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waayoutofline · 24 days ago

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Avoiding every mistletoe (Until I know It’s true love)

Marvel Masterlist

PROMPTS: Shy Natasha Romanoff and Lab Assitant!Reader

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Tags: Fluff, awkward and clumsy Nat, Tony's lab asistant reader, christmas fun! ( posting this during actual christmas), meddeling avengers, a sprinkle of hurt/comfort.

Summary —> Ever since Natasha met you, Tony's new brilliant assistant, she has been down bad. But her sudden lack of confidence around you banishes every hope for her to make a move. Christmas is around the corner, and the team knows about your superstitious nature. There seems to be a clear answer: Mistletoes.

WC: 5473

Warnings: Descriptions of making out, but not explicit sexual content.

***

November was in full swing at the Avengers Tower, which meant sophisticated red, green, and gold decorations adorned every surface, Christmas songs played on an endless loop through the speakers, and the unmistakable aroma of gingerbread wafted (somehow) through the air.

As was classic Tony Stark fashion, a lineup of extravagant holiday parties had already been scheduled and meticulously planned for execution. Natasha Romanoff though was already dreading it.

Hoping to avoid any unnecessary interaction, she quietly sneaked into the communal kitchen, intent on grabbing a couple of waffles Wanda had made earlier. But as soon as she stepped in, she felt the weight of several pairs of eyes on her back.

“Ah, Miss Romanoff, there you are!” Tony’s voice rang out, cheerful and full of purpose. He was already decked out in one of his newest suits—sharp, festive, and annoyingly ostentatious.

Sighing, Natasha turned around, realizing it was too late to make a run for it. She was greeted by the sight of her team sprawled across the couches and armchairs in the lounge, each of them absorbed in their own activity, but now casually watching Tony’s sudden commotion with mild interest.

“Morning,” Natasha grunted, reluctantly moving to join them, plate in hand.

“Just the person I was looking for!” Tony said, flashing a shit-eating grin as he patted the empty space beside him on the couch.

Instead of humoring him, Natasha settled herself on the fluffy rug in front of the coffee table, placing her plate down without a word.

“You are officially invited to the pre-Christmas party hosted by moi,” Tony declared dramatically.

“Tony, you literally held us hostage at one last week. I still have a hangover,” she deadpanned, recalling flashes of the chaos where even she had gone overboard with the alcohol, thanks to Sam Wilson’s stupid drinking games.

“Oh, come on! This one’s different. It’s intimate—just for us heroes and co,” Tony countered, undeterred. Then, leaning back smugly, he added, “I even got the space lady to come. How awesome is that?”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

“Oh don’t be boring. Where’s the wild Natasha Romanoff we all love?” Tony teased, grinning as if to provoke her.

“Easy. She doesn’t exist,” Natasha replied flatly, cutting into her first waffle. She let out a satisfied hum at the sweet taste.

“These are amazing, Wanda,” she said, looking over at the young witch.

Wanda, sitting comfortably on a loveseat, smiled warmly at the compliment. “Thanks, Nat.”

“Is it a new recipe?” Natasha asked, curious.

“Yes, actually. I added a bit of cinnamon and—”

“Okay, okay!” Tony interrupted, baffled by the lack of attention he was receiving, looking bewildered between them two. “Let’s get back to the main thing here. Are you coming?”

At Natasha’s reluctant silence, Steve stepped in with a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, Natasha. I’ll make sure he’s on his best behavior.”

“Ugh, boring—” Tony groaned, dragging the word out in sing-song. But under Steve’s hardened stare, he sighed in defeat. “Fine. It’ll be a cozy hangout. No traces of fun or whatever,” he relented, raising his hands in mock surrender.

Taking another bite of her waffles, she carfulkly took a sip of her coffe, trying to hide her smirk as she sees Tony waiting in anticipation fo her response. “Fine.”

Tony threw a punch onto the air, clapping in victory. “Carol is coming you said?”

He nodded proudly. “Yeah I managed to rope her and her little sidekick in. There is also the kid, Clint and his family…”

”Dont forget Strange.” Bruce, who just entered the living room reminded. Tony grumbled a bit at that.

“Yeah, Houdini too. Scary lady and Patch eye…god were those hard to convince— Oh and my lab assistant too.” Nathasa choked at that.

”Assistant? She practically takes over your lab.” Bruce chuckled.

Tony rolled his eyes, but there was no hint of malice. If anything, a spark of pride made his eyes a bit brighter. “Yeah well, I taught her well. Did you knowl that last week she-“

Nathan’s brain disconnected at a scary speed after those words. Images of you hit her hard, and she could already start to feel her heart race a bit.

Y/N Y/L/N was Tony Stark’s most recent lab and tech assistant, and to say he was impressed would be an understatement. After reviewing your résumé, Tony had practically declared you a godsend. You were one of the rare people who could keep up with his eccentricities, effortlessly managing the stream of tasks he threw your way. It didn’t take long for you to earn a permanent spot at the Avengers Tower.

Natasha remembered the first time she saw you as if it were yesterday. She had been on her way to ask Tony for a replacement for her gauntlets after a particularly rough mission. When she stepped into the lab, though, she was surprised to find someone else hunched over the workbench.

Frowning, Natasha set her hand on the fingerprint scanner, the door sliding open with a soft whoosh. At the sound, the stranger turned around, and Natasha froze in place.

For her, the world seemed to stop spinning, settling into an almost unnatural silence. You were… ethereal.

In her life, Natasha had faced aliens, wizards, and even sentient robots. So how far-fetched was it to assume she was now standing face to face with an angel?

Even though you didn’t know her, a gentle smile settled on your lips, your gorgeous eyes peering at her with almost childlike curiosity. Natasha stood there, frozen in place, unable to move. It wasn’t until something shifted in the silence that she remembered to breathe again.

Startled, she realized she hadn’t moved from the doorway. The door had automatically closed where she stood, trapping her. Embarrassed, she quickly stepped forward, pushing herself to snap out of it.

And, of course, she had to stumble. The gauntlets she was holding slipped from her grip and fell to the floor with an unforgivable thud. Cringing, she immediately knelt down to retrieve them. What she didn't expect was for you to do the same, even if your movement were more calm.

She flustered when she dared to look up, finding your own awaiting gaze. “Well, if they weren't broken before, they sure are now.” You joked with a smile, tone teasing but not judging.

Blinking, Natasha started sputtering, not really knowing what to say. Or how. “Yes.”

“Yes” is what her stupid brain decided to go for. Even thinking about it even now, her face scrunch with self embarrassment. What was even happening? Taking a breath, she redirected her eyes to the ground. Right, the gauntlets. They are broken. Need them fixed.

Finally standing up, she forced her body not to fidget. As if sensing this, you offered a hand to her. “Y/N Y/L/N, Mr.Starks new hire here in the lab.”

Tentatively, she accepted the shake. Her mind hanging on how your hand seemed to fit into hers. “Natasha Romanoff. Um, avenger.”

God what’s wrong with her? You giggle at that, and the sound is enough to get her out of her head. Of course that the sound is also beautiful. Was there anything about you that wasn’t? Why is she even think that?

“I know. Pleasure to meet you, Ms.Romanoff. So…may I help you with those?” You ask, your hand still being held by hers. Noticing this, Natasha removed her grip as if you were burning.

“Please.” She ended up saying, utterly embarrassed by her behaviour. Still, you gave no sense of judgment, only nodding and taking her over the workbench.

She stayed with you all that evening. And most of the next ones after that.

***

Her infatuation with you only seemed to grow since that first meeting, and the others quickly picked up on it. They saw it in the way Natasha—the most grounded person they knew—started sputtering and flustering whenever she talked to you. The unshakable confidence she was known for seemed to melt under the warmth of your sunshine smile and the twinkle of mischief in your eyes.

And as much as they insisted for her to make an actual move, Natasha refused.

“Uh-oh, I know that look.” Wanda sang, like a high school girl teasing her friend in high school when they listened the name of their crush. Rolling her eyes, Natasha scoffed.

”There is no look.”

”Oh, but there is.” Clint, who was watching Sam and a struggling Bucky play Mortal Combat added, not even looking away from the screen. “Your pupils practically shape into hearts— likes a lovesick puppy. It’s almost painful to watch.

”Shut it Barton.”

You were too good for her, Natasha decided on her own. You were like the sun, kind and warm, gentle in a way that it was entirely selfless. Natasha's life was one of dangers and precautions, she didn’t want to expose you to any of the threats that surrounded her lifestyle.

Even if she ached to be close to you, call you her own.

“Now it’s the time to make a move. Who knows? Maybe you will find each other under the mistletoe.” He adds with a wink.

Tony hummed. “Hm, that’s actually a good idea.”

Her head whipped toward him. “Don’t even think about it, Stark. Besides, that’s a stupid tradition. How do you even know that Y/N would willingly kiss someone just because a stupid parasitic plant is above her?”

They all laughed at that.

“Our Y/N? Please. She practically had a mental breakdown when I broke a mirror in the lab the other day,” Tony quipped, grinning.

Wanda nodded in agreement, casually flipping through the pages of her book. “Yeah, once she made me search the entire tower for something made of wood to touch, just so I wouldn’t jinx the next mission after I mentioned a hypothetical worst-case scenario. Still don’t get that one.”

Natasha’s face went pale at that, remembering a conversation she’d once had with you. You had mentioned that, while you didn’t fully believe in superstitions yourself, your family did, and it had resulted in some strange and unshakable habits for you. “Better safe than sorry,” you had said with a shrug.

A cold sweat made her tremble slightly, worsening by all of a sudden interested and sneaky grins on her friends faces.

Whatever, she still can not go.

***

She still had to go.

When you confirmed your attendance, you clapped excitedly, rambling about how fun it would be to spend your first Christmas together. You even brought it up when she bought you lunch—a frequent occurrence, since you often got so engrossed in your work that you forgot to eat. Natasha would be lying if she said your words didn’t tug relentlessly at her heart.

And so, there she was, surrounded by the thrumming chaos of an all-together gathering, overwhelming decorations, and overly festive arrangements at every turn. Anxiety prickled at her as she glanced toward the newly decorated attic. They couldn’t possibly have infested the entire place with mistletoe, right?

Wrong.

They were everywhere.

On every doorway, on the stairs, in the high columns and ceilings, even on top of the Christmas tree, scattered around—everywhere she looked, there it was. Mistletoe.

Trying to shake it off, Natasha focused her attention on the ground, her sharp gaze scanning for the culprit behind this festive ambush.

“Tony!” she half-yelled, her steps quick and deliberate as she marched toward the eccentric billionaire, who was in the middle of a conversation with Pepper.

His head whipped toward her, a flicker of fear flashing across his face before his usual smug smirk returned.

“Care to explain?” she demanded.

“Explain what, exactly? My fantastical abilities to host, or…?” he drawled, his tone dripping with amusement.

She glared furiously. “Aw, c’mon, don’t look so grumpy, Grinch! This is a time of tradition, joy—”

“And manipulation?” she interrupted through gritted teeth. “This is way too much.”

Despite her glare and the unmistakable edge in her voice, Tony remained unfazed. If anything, his amusement only grew. He glanced over her shoulder, his expression brightening as he perked up.

“Well, complaints are non-refundable. Sorry, it’s the new policy. If you’ll excuse me, Pepper needs me to sign some super high-confidence document, right, dear?”

Pepper frowned. “What are you talking ab—”

Before she could finish, Tony gently grabbed her hand and began steering her away, the two trailing off into the crowd.

Natasha was about to follow and press him further, but a voice behind her made her freeze.

“Nat, hey!”

She turned around, and suddenly, everything seemed to slow down for her. There you were, wearing a comfy red sweater, black jeans, and a pair of Mary Janes. Your hair, usually tied back for work, was flowing freely, framing your face. It was a simple, casual look, but Natasha felt her face heat up at the sight of you.

As you got closer, alarm bells blared in her mind. Her eyes darted upward, and her stomach dropped. One of those dreaded mistletoe clusters hung right above where you were heading.

Panicking, she practically sprinted toward you, desperate to avoid both of you standing under it. But she miscalculated her speed, and before she knew it, she was barrelling straight into you.

You let out a startled huff as her momentum almost knocked you over, but her quick reflexes kicked in, and she steadied you before you could stumble.

“Geez, Romanoff,” you joked, brushing yourself off as you smiled up at her. “We just saw each other this morning. Did you miss me that much?”

Your teasing tone and warm voice snapped her out of her panic, but the damage was done. Natasha’s heart was hammering in her chest, her senses overloaded as she became acutely aware of how close you were. The soft warmth of your body pressed lightly against hers, the delicate scent of cocoa beans, coconut, and something distinctly you filling the air around her.

Her cheeks burned as her mind scrambled for something—anything—to say as she looked down at you, mortified. Luckily for her, your attention diverged when someone from the staff (who even brings staff in closed up parties?) bough a chocolate fountain in a rolling chair. “No. Way.— I thought he was kidding!”

And just like that you went off excitedly, a silhouette of dust being the only trace of you left. Sighing, Natasha brought her hand to her racing heart, trying to figure out a way to survive this evening.

Her eyes opened again in determination, she was going to take off these damned things, starting with the one right on top of her.

***

This task, however, grew increasingly difficult as the evening wore on. Between being roped into endless conversations, you constantly looking out for her (and her desperately trying to avoid you), and the absurd number of mistletoes everywhere, Natasha felt like she was fighting a losing battle. It was as if they were multiplying before her very eyes.

Her frustration peaked during a particularly embarrassing moment—one where, of course, you were the witness.

After listening to Peter and Kamala endlessly gossip about high school drama, Natasha had collapsed onto the sofa, her patience hanging by a thread. As her gaze wandered across the room, her eyes landed on the ceiling—and there it was. Another mistletoe. This one was perched slightly higher than the others, hanging right above the beanbag chair where you often sat. Of course.

Those strategic bastards.

Taking advantage of everyone being distracted in the kitchen, she sprang into action. With no ladder in sight, she grabbed a nearby chair and carefully climbed onto it. Still too short to reach, she braced herself against the shelves, stretching precariously as she balanced. Every slight wobble of the chair made her heart lurch, but she pressed on, determined to remove the offending decoration before anyone noticed.

But of course, that was the moment you walked in, calling for her.

“Nat? Aren’t you hungry? I saved you some of those little pies you like so much—”

Your voice startled her, and she immediately looks down at you. Her grip slipped briefly, the chair wobbling dangerously beneath her.

“Y/N! Shit—” she hissed, her heart leaping into her throat. Scrambling to steady herself, she clung to the edge of the shelf and managed to avoid completely losing her balance. She froze, her cheeks heating as she realized you were staring at her, bewildered.

“What… are you doing?” you asked, the corners of your lips quirking up in confusion and slight amusement.

Blushing furiously, Natasha’s mind scrambled for a reasonable explanation. “Um… I was just… looking for Clint? You know how much he loves to hide up here.” she said with a nervous laugh, trying to sound nonchalant.

Before you could respond, someone brushed past you, momentarily breaking the tension.

It was Clint, holding a bottle of rosé wine, with the kids trailing behind him. “No alcohol until you’re 21,” he announced, his tone firm but playful.

“But I am 22!” Kate argued.

Clint snorted. “Sure you are.”

As they disappeared into the kitchen, you turned your attention back to Natasha. Arching an eyebrow, you crossed your arms, your curiosity clearly not satisfied.

“Oh, great! There he is!” Natasha blurted, clinging to her flimsy excuse. She waved awkwardly in Clint’s general direction, desperate to change the subject. “Let me just—”

But as she began stepping down, her foot slipped on the edge of the chair. She let out a startled gasp as she lost her footing entirely.

”Oh my- Natasha!”

***

She even tried to gain support in enemy territory.

“Steve!” she called out. The man looked over at her and clearly tried to sneak off, but it was too late. “Just how many are there?” she asked, her desperation evident. So far, she’d removed eight mistletoes and had endured three risky situations where she’d practically had to run away from you.

“Of what?” Steve replied, taking a sip of his drink, feigning ignorance.

Natasha huffed, crossing her arms. “Please, let’s skip the act. I know you also took part in this.”

Steve remained silent, his expression unreadable but gullible. Natasha sighed in exasperation. “Come on, Steve, you’re the most reasonable one out of all of them. Just tell me where the rest of the mistletoes are!”

She could see the guilt on his face—he was clearly uncomfortable. Steve Rogers wasn’t a man who lied easily. As he opened his mouth, clearly about to crack, Sam and Wanda swooped in.

“What are we talking about?” Sam asked with a goofy smile, casually draping his arm around Steve’s shoulders as if shielding him from her interrogation.

Natasha’s left eye twitched. “You know exactly what, Wilson.”

“Hmm, do I?” Sam teased, his grin widening.

Natasha ignored him, focusing on her second-best shot, since it was clear Steve wouldn’t be of much use now.

“Wanda,” she said, turning to the witch, “how many mistletoes are there?”

Wanda shrugged, playing innocent.

“If you tell me…,” Natasha added, her voice turning sly, “I’ll lend you those boots of mine you like so much.”

Wanda hesitated at that, her composure faltering slightly. “… The ones with the metal buckles?”

“The ones with the metal buckles.”

Wanda’s eyes glinted with temptation as she weighed her options. But after a brief internal debate, she furrowed her brow and firmly shook her head and crossed her arms. “No. We’re doing this for your own good, Natasha.”

Natasha laughed forcefully, her expression taut with frustration. “For my own good? I’m losing my sanity over here, Wands.” Her tone was sharp, but her forced smile remained plastered on her face.

Just then, a voice cut through the air, making Natasha freeze.

“Have you guys seen Natasha? I swear I just keep losing track of her today,” you said, your voice light-hearted as you spoke to Bruce and Tony.

The group perked up at your words, and Natasha’s head snapped toward the sound of your voice. There you were, standing across the room, looking as radiant as ever as you chatted with the two men.

As Tony and Bruce were about to point in her direction, Natasha didn’t waste another second—she quickly ducked behind the rolling chocolate fountain cart, slipping out of sight just in the nick of time.

***

It all came down to the climax of the party. Most of the children were asleep by now, and only the closest circle remained. Natasha was exhausted but relieved. She had finally managed to get rid of all the mistletoes, even if, in doing so, she had humiliated herself in ways she hadn’t thought possible.

Now, she could finally relax and hang out with you. Or at least, that’s what she thought. A wolf whistle and cheers erupted from her friends, who had formed a circle outside on the terrace. Curious, she approached, only to regret it immediately as she was squashed between Steve and Bucky.

Her face went pale as she saw the final mistletoe, hanging right above you and a smug Carol Danvers. In her frantic pursuit of avoiding standing under a mistletoe with you, someone else had managed to get there before her. This outcome was far worse, and dread filled her as she watched the scene unfold.

She couldn’t stand it. The way Carol got closer with bravado and you, with a smile (it was more polite and friendly than anything, but at that moment she didn’t see it like that), made her heart drop.

The world once again slowed down, but this time it was for her and you. And she just couldn’t stand it. Shattering the slow-motion moment, her mouth and body moved faster than her mind.

“Wait! You’re supposed to kiss under the mistletoe, not near it! I mean—look at that angle, it’s tilted and all wrong. Besides, is it me or are the leaves…wait, let me just scoot over here—” she muttered, pushing her way through the onlookers to get to the mistletoe. Everyone went quiet in surprise as she reached it and caressed the leaves. You just stared at her, but she seemed to pay no mind. “Ah, as I thought! These leaves are all dried. How about we replace it? Here, I know where we can find a suitable one. Will you come with me, Y/N?”

Without thinking, she took your hand and practically dragged you away, turning back toward the group. “We’ll be right back.”

Everyone remained quiet as they watched the two of you disappear.

***

“Here, let me just…” Natasha started, trying to find her card in her pockets. “Where did I—ah, here.”

With quick motions, she attempted to swipe the card to unlock her room. You stood behind her, watching her increasingly desperate attempts to open the door.

“Nat…” you started softly.

Chuckling awkwardly, she waited for the green light, but it still wasn’t processing for some reason. “These are so annoying. I keep insisting to Tony that he should just put in a code, but he doesn’t listen—”

“Nat.”

“Typical of him, I know. Let’s try again.” Waiting for the red light to turn off, she swiped again, and this time the light turned green. “There, finally.”

You tried calling her again, but she interrupted. “Sorry for the wait. There are some left in my room, let’s just pick one and…” She said, turning the handle and opening the door, knowing that all the stolen mistletoes were in the corner.

“Natasha!” You finally yelled, making her turn around with wild eyes. Uh oh, you almost called her Natasha.

Your face held no negative feelings, only the patience you were known for. “Nat.” Slowly, you grabbed her trembling hand and got a bit closer. Your worry made her squirm.

“What’s going on?” you started softly, as if trying not to scare her. The consideration and gentleness in your voice made her almost burst into tears. “You’ve been behaving… strange this entire party. Running around all over the place… avoiding me.” You whispered the last words, clearly pained, and her heart shattered.

The last thing she wanted was to make you feel bad. “Did I do something wrong?”

Your question was so raw, your expression vulnerable, and Natasha wanted nothing more than to wrap you in her arms, kiss you gently, and reassure you that you didn’t—couldn’t—do anything to upset her. But she couldn’t, and the knowledge of it broke a little bit more.

“No, no, of course not. It’s just—” She started, her words getting stuck in her throat, unsure of how to put them together. “The others decided to put the place swarming with mistletoes.”

You looked at her in confusion. “Okay…why?”

Refusing eye contact, Natasha took a deep breath, her heart pounding so loudly that she thought you could hear it. Without dropping your hand, she stepped a little closer, her legs slightly trembling. She figured the best thing to do was to just say it and get it over with. She had already been making a fool of herself the entire day. But saying it was harder than she thought it would be. The fear of rejection was suffocating her.

“Because…” Finally daring to look at you, her neck reddening all up to the point of her ears, being suddenly conscious of the warmth radiating. “Because they know how serious you are about superstitions. And that if we got caught under one, then I… then I would finally dare to kiss you.”

The admission came as a whisper, shame and embarrassment hitting her like never before. It was as if she was going to combust from the inside. A pause hung between the two of you, each second of it feeling like a stab straight to her chest.

She couldn’t even begin to imagine losing you. You had become so close this year, and to think that just a couple of silly words could ruin everything was killing her. Her eyes closed tightly, waiting for the worst—a rejection, disgust, or just pity. Any of these would shatter her.

But it never came. Instead, she felt warmth—a gentle caress on her cheek, you softly urging her to open her eyes and look at you. Your face was far from the rejecting one that Natasha’s brain had conjured. Instead, it was a reassuring one, with a bright smile like the one you first gave her the day you met, your eyes soft and bright under the lights.

She blinked, as if the soft touch had pulled her back from her darkest places. Her heart seemed to stop, no longer beating out of fear but for hope. Because as she studied you, she saw nothing but kindness and happiness.

“You… you’re not upset?” she asked, as if it were too good to be true.

Your smile widened, laughing softly under your breath at her surprise. “Nat, how could I ever be upset? I—” This time it was you who searched for the right words, your cheeks flushed with a lovely rosy color that Natasha couldn’t help but find fascinating. “How could I, when I’ve been waiting for you to do this for quite some time?”

Your admission hung in the air, like a symphony. Natasha could feel the weight of the world lift from her shoulders. “You have?”

“Of course I have.” You confessed, as if the question were ridiculous to even ask. “You’ve been everything my heart has been yearning for, Natasha.”

Natasha sure wasn’t a poet, but right now she was seeing the world as one. The way in which your words embraced her, your slightly dilated eyes looking at her as if she was the only one on your mind.

Was this what the others saw? The look she has been too oblivious to see?

She wanted to hit her head in frustration, all the time wasted because of her doubts. But she was free of them now, having you as her savior.

Getting closer, she dared to pull you closer by your waist, marveling at how it felt in tandem with her movements, as if you two had done this a thousand times before, in different lives, before this one.

“So… you’re telling me I made that champagne pyramid fall all over Fury for nothing?” she asked, as if it were a secret.

You laughed loudly at that, remembering the moment when Natasha stumbled all over the table later on in the evening. Everything seemed to make sense now.

“You know…” you started, the laughter dying down as you softly tucked a piece of Natasha’s hair behind her ear, your touch lingering on her jaw. “For someone so intelligent and charismatic, you sure are clumsy at times.”

Natasha huffed, rolling her eyes with an affectionate smile. “Only because you…” she started, but caught herself, her eyes slightly widening.

You arched an eyebrow. “Oh? Only because of that? Do I make you nervous, Romanoff?” You grinned, adoring the way she seemed lost for words.

Sputtering, she tried to defend herself, but someone beat her to it.

“Very much so!” Tony yelled.

Your eyes snapped toward him, only to see the team huddled up behind the corner.

You snickered, Natasha flustered. “What are you…? Go away!” She hesitated.

Tony smirked. “Not so fast, Romanoff! You have to kiss.”

Confused, she followed his hand motion, only to see a mistletoe floating with surrounding red magic.

“Damn it, Wanda…” she muttered, but you just laughed at your friend’s antics, hiding your face in her shoulder.

Natasha’s attention shifted back to you, her smile filled with adoration. Finally, you peered up at her.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to…” she started shyly, not wanting to pressure you into doing anything. But you only got closer to her.

“I don’t know, I think you do owe me a kiss,” you replied with a grin. “You know, to balance the universe.”

“Yeah…” she muttered, eyes lowering. “To balance the universe.” She reaffirmed, leaning down. But before her lips touched yours, she gripped you and dragged you both into her room, slamming the door shut. She ignored the muffled complaints heard from the hallway as she pinned you against it, wanting to have you all to herself.

Connecting her eyes with yours, she searched for any trace of doubt, but found nothing but darkened irises. Hesitation left her once and for all as she leaned in, her lips meeting yours. She sighed, and everything else seemed to fade into the distance.

The kiss was slow at first, gentle and tentative, giving you both time to discover each other. But the passion, held back for so long by insecurities and “what ifs,” broke free like a dam, intensifying everything tenfold. Her hand gripped your waist slightly harder, while one of your hands trailed up to her hair, tugging it just enough to make her shudder. Urgently, she pulled you even closer, as if afraid you might disappear.

Her breath quickened as she felt your body pressed against hers. The kiss deepened, turning frantic with all the pent-up desire. Suddenly, you tugged at her bottom lip, almost provocatively, as you looked up at her through your eyelashes. Natasha groaned, her heart racing. It was like seeing a whole new side of you, and she just couldn’t get enough.

Licking into your mouth, she hummed as your knees seemed to buckle, holding your hips to make sure you didn't fall. No, you weren’t going anywhere. Not when she finally had you in her arms.

You could feel the tension in her body as you traced her shoulders and back, her muscles tensing with every movement. It was as if she couldn’t get enough of you, kissing you—consuming you with everything she had.

It left you breathless. If anything, air became the only obstacle, the only force capable of separating you. Both gasping for breath, you didn’t dare to say anything for a moment, just taking in the overwhelming sensation of being so close, so lost in each other.

“You know, technically…” you started slowly, a playful smirk on your lips. “Technically, you interrupted my kiss with Carol before.”

As soon as the words left your mouth, her grip on you tightened, a small growl escaping her at the thought of anyone else getting the chance to do what you had just done. But you quickly calmed her, softly cupping the side of her face. “So, you owe me another kiss.”

She looked at you with darkened eyes, a mix of desire and challenge in her gaze. “I guess you’re right… We wouldn’t want to have bad luck.”

“Of course not,” you repeated, your lips brushing against hers as you gently guided her closer. “You know how superstitious I am.”

“Yes, I do,” she whispered, a teasing smile crossing her face as she closed the distance.

#mcu #natasha romanoff #fanfic #nat x reader #natasha x reader #fluff #oneshot #short prompt #christmas #reader insert #avengers #marvel blurb #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x reader

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cailinsblog · 2 months ago

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A Sweet Christmas | Lando Norris

Lando Norris x reader

Summary: Lando Norris and his girlfriend, Y/N, spend a cozy Christmas evening baking cookies together. Despite Lando’s playful messes, they laugh and enjoy decorating the cookies. The night is filled with warmth, love, and holiday magic as they relax by the tree and savor their homemade treats.

Masterlist

The snow had started to fall softly outside the windows of Lando Norris' cozy apartment. It was the kind of quiet, peaceful evening that you could only find around Christmas, when everything felt a little bit more magical. Inside, the soft glow of fairy lights twinkled around the living room, and the warm scent of cinnamon and gingerbread had begun to fill the air.

Y/N was standing in front of the kitchen counter, her apron tied around her waist, carefully measuring out flour. She was excited for their Christmas tradition, even if it was something simple—making cookies together. It had become something of a special ritual for the two of them. Lando might spend most of his time on the racetrack, but when it came to Christmas, he was more than happy to trade in fast cars for flour-covered countertops.

Lando, for his part, was currently attempting to "help" by sifting the powdered sugar... a task he had apparently decided was too easy and, therefore, not nearly as fun. Instead, he was playing around, tossing little clouds of sugar up in the air and watching them drift down like snowflakes. Y/N chuckled as one of them landed in his hair.

“Lando!” she laughed, reaching for a paper towel to wipe some sugar off his shoulder. “You’re making a mess!”

He grinned sheepishly, but there was something incredibly endearing about his childlike energy. “Hey, I’m helping! You just don’t understand the art of creating the perfect snowfall effect with powdered sugar,” he teased, flicking a bit more in her direction.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, holding up the flour and gesturing with a teasing smile. “I think you’re just making a bigger mess than we need to clean up later.”

“You can’t rush art,” Lando replied with mock seriousness, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief.

Y/N shook her head but couldn’t suppress the smile spreading across her face. “Well, while you’re busy perfecting your snowstorm, I’m actually going to start making the dough,” she said, grabbing a bowl and starting to mix the ingredients.

Lando watched her for a moment, a mischievous glint in his eye as he leaned against the counter. “I can do that too, you know. I’m good with my hands. Maybe I’ll make the best dough ever.”

“Oh really?” Y/N raised an eyebrow. “You can barely bake a cookie without burning it, let alone make the dough.”

“That was one time!” he protested, holding up a finger. “It was a *very* complicated recipe.”

She smirked, already knowing he was about to get defensive. “Sure, Lando. You’re probably right,” she said dryly, handing him the rolling pin. “But for now, you can roll out the dough, okay?”

Lando nodded like he’d just been given the most important job in the world. He immediately took the rolling pin and started to roll out the dough with exaggerated concentration, as though the fate of the Christmas cookies rested entirely on his shoulders. Y/N could hardly contain her laughter at his antics.

After a few minutes of him dramatically rolling out the dough, he grinned triumphantly. “All done! Now, what’s next?”

Y/N moved in to take a look, inspecting his work. The dough was unevenly rolled, with some parts much thinner than others, but she didn’t mind. It would all taste the same in the end. “Okay, now we can cut out the shapes,” she said, pulling out a set of cookie cutters in the shape of stars, snowflakes, and Christmas trees. “Are you ready to make some Christmas magic?”

“Born ready,” Lando said, positioning himself beside her. “But I’m going to warn you, I’m excellent at decorating cookies. Like, top-tier.”

Y/N laughed. “We’ll see about that. I have a feeling you’re going to end up eating most of the decorations instead of using them.”

They spent the next hour rolling, cutting, and laughing. Y/N couldn’t help but love the way Lando’s enthusiasm was so contagious. Even when he accidentally made a dough explosion or ended up with flour on his face, he just laughed it off, turning every mishap into an inside joke.

When the cookies were finally ready to go into the oven, Y/N turned to him, her smile softening. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever had this much fun baking before.”

Lando shrugged, his expression warm. “It’s the company, not the cookies, that makes it fun.”

As the cookies baked, they moved into the living room, where the Christmas tree twinkled with lights and the soft hum of holiday music filled the background. Y/N curled up on the couch, and Lando joined her, draping an arm over her shoulders.

They sat in content silence, only the sound of the occasional pop from the fireplace breaking the quiet. The world outside seemed far away as they simply enjoyed the moment—together, cozy, and happy. It wasn’t the holiday shopping or the big celebrations that made Christmas special; it was these simple, quiet moments.

Eventually, the timer went off, and they both jumped up, rushing back to the kitchen to check on their cookies. The smell was heavenly—spiced with cinnamon, ginger, and sugar. Lando opened the oven door and pulled out the tray with exaggerated care, pretending like he was handling fragile treasure.

After a few minutes of cooling, it was time for the best part: decorating. Y/N set out icing, sprinkles, and little edible pearls, and Lando was immediately at it, piping colorful swirls of icing onto the cookies with absolute concentration.

“You really are good at this,” Y/N said, genuinely impressed as he carefully outlined the snowflakes.

“I told you,” Lando grinned. “I’m a natural.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop smiling as she began decorating her own cookies. They worked together in harmony, sometimes making faces at each other over their icing, sometimes getting into little “cookie decorating contests” to see who could make the prettiest designs. Of course, most of the cookies ended up a little lopsided, but that was part of the charm. Every one was unique and full of love.

When they were finally finished, they stepped back to admire their work. The plate of cookies before them was a sweet, colorful mess of imperfect but delicious-looking treats.

“Well, we definitely won’t be winning any decorating contests,” Y/N said with a laugh, “but I think we’ve created some Christmas magic.”

“Agreed,” Lando said, looking at the plate with a satisfied grin. “They look like something straight out of a holiday movie… except maybe with a little more personality.”

They shared a laugh before grabbing the first cookie from the plate and taking a bite. The warm, sugary taste was perfect, and they both sighed contentedly.

“I think we’ve made some of the best Christmas cookies ever,” Y/N said, looking at him with soft eyes.

Lando smiled, his expression tender. “Yeah, I think we have too.”

They shared a quiet moment, just enjoying each other's company and the happiness of the season. In that moment, surrounded by laughter, cookies, and the warmth of Christmas, Lando and Y/N knew that this was what the holidays were really all about.

And as they settled in with a plate of cookies and a cup of hot cocoa, the world outside continued to drift by, but inside, everything was perfect.

💕💕Remember reblog helps a lot guy💕💕

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judeslove · 2 months ago

Text

caught

pairing - jude bellingham x reader genre- pure fluff warnings - swearing, intended lowercase summary - christmas at jude’s house turns into a confession

you and jude had been close ever since your had your first blinks, as both your moms were best friends and happened to give birth the same day, at the same time and at the same hospital. so obviously you guys grew to be the power duo, the recipe for disaster and chaos.

you could never admit the crush you had on jude. i mean, everyone would have a crush on him. his smile so charming, always so caring and making sure your ok, appreciating his family and finding time for his loved ones in the middle of his career. he was the perfect partner really.

it was only a couple months ago when you decided to tell about your feelings. you were scared, as you didn’t want to ruin your dynamic. you were surprised when jude said that he was more than happy to introduce you as his girlfriend to everyone, admitting that he had a crush on you ever since you guys were 8.

now, you had to be careful and not make it obvious that you‘re together, and the fact that you were spending christmas at his house partly didn’t make it any better, since you had to hide all the loving looks and winks, plus no cuddling.

you arrived at judes house. the house was covered by different christmas lights, and it even had an inflatable snowman in the front yard.

immediately after the door opened you were crushed by denise‘s hug.

“oh darling, it’s nice to see you, merry christmas” denise mumbled agaisnt your hair while tighly keeping you in her warm embrace before pulling you away and getting you inside.

“merry christmas d” you smiled back at her. the inside of the house was warm, the scent of burnt gingerbread entering your nose, which made a lot of sense when an exhausted looking jobe marched out of the kitchen.

“oh hey, nice to see you” he said, making his way over to you and pulling you in a hug. from the corner of your eye you could see jude sitting on the sofa with his eyes locked onto jobe hugging you.

“well hello to you too, j” you chuckled at his excitement.

then, you made a bee-line toward jude and pulled him into your embrace. you smiled against his neck, inhaling his scent.

“i see you’ve got a new perfume, mr. bellingham” you smirked and pulled away from him.

“how did you know” jude gasped, mouth open.

“i just know” you laughed while getting up from the couch to greet mark.

after all the greeting was done you all sat around the dinner table, grabbing every food except the gingerbread that jobe had burnt.

“hey, they can’t be that bad, try them” jobe tried to convince, while his face was all scrunched up when chewing the gingerbread in his mouth before finally swallowing it.

“yeah, no way” you laughed.

“i had another pile of the gingerbread in the kitchen, do you mind getting it?” denise asked you.

“no i don’t mind, i’ll go get it” you smiled, getting up from your seat and walking to the kitchen.

“i’ll go help her” jude got up and followed your steps.

while picking up the tray you felt judes arms snake around your waist, and you smelt his new scent intoxicating you. you leaned into his chest, seeking for more warmth. he turned you around and picked you up, placing you on the kitchen island.

jude began to leave kisses on your face, before finally placing a kiss against your lips. you deepened the kiss by exploring his mouth with your tongue. jude leant in closer and placed his hands around your waist.

“oh my goodness, get a fucking room y’all are disgusting, not on the table” jobe gagged while walking out of the kitchen immediately.

you buried your face into jude’s chest, showing your embarrasment.

“baby it’s ok, it’s just jobe” jude giggled, looking down at you.

“no but he doesn’t know were dating, then he’s going to tell them” you whined.

you both walked back into the dining room and you placed the gingerbread on to the table.

by the smirk denise and mark gave you, you could already tell that jobe told them what he saw in the kitchen.

“well, do you have something to confess?” denise asked, wiggling her eyebrows. you sent jude a nervous look, pleading that he would tell them.

“we’re dating” jude blurted and his family started cheering.

“we knew it” they cheered in unison.

“dad, you owe me 50 bucks” jobe said, while giggling.

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onlyhereforthestories · 26 days ago

Text

Football Cookie! (Alexia Putellas x Reader)

Day 13 wooooo. I actually think the titles are becoming the hardest part. This one suckssssss. But enjoy the story again was a fun one to write.

The kitchen was alive with the scents of vanilla and cinnamon, the hum of soft holiday music playing in the background and the main kitchen lights were bright overhead. Alexia stood across from you, her gaze fixed on the recipe card perched precariously against a jar of sugar. A recipe she had printed out because last time you had baked together her phone had ended up in the batter and she had to get a new one.

She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her brows furrowed in concentration. “Alright, so we need flour, sugar, eggs…” she murmured, tapping the card lightly as she spoke.

“Relax, chef,” you teased, nudging her elbow as you poured flour into a mixing bowl. “We’re baking cookies, not preparing for the Great British Bake Off.”

She grinned, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yes, but these are cookies for the team,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “They’ve got to be perfect.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused by her determination. “Alexia, we’re literally handing out sugar-loaded, frosting-covered holiday treats. If they’re anything short of perfect, I’m sure they’ll forgive us.”

Alexia chuckled, shaking her head. “Okay that might be true. But if any of these cookies come out burnt or misshapen, I’m blaming you.”

With a mock gasp, you placed a hand over your heart. “I see how it is. Throw me under the bus for a few crooked gingerbread arms, huh?”

Laughing, she leaned over to press a quick kiss to your lips. “Alright, alright, team effort. Let’s make these cookies the best Barca’s ever seen.”

Together, you began mixing up the dough, following the recipe step-by-step. It seemed simple enough, but with Alexia’s competitive spirit, each time you slowed down or tried to shake your aching hand out she was on you. Like in a game if you jogged too slowly back to position, she gave you a look or said your name with that tone, making you speed back up or carry on despite the soreness taking over your palm.

When the dough had been mixed and kneaded, it was set in the fridge to chill. You were about to take a seat at the island when you heard the clearing of a throat. “Don’t even think about it. We need to clean this mess before the dough is ready to roll. And if I’m cleaning then you are too.” You knew she was joking with you slightly, and if you needed to sit, she wouldn’t actually make you get up to clean. But you also knew she would clean now, and you would never let her do that alone.

After cleaning the mixing mess, the dough was chilled. You both began rolling it out on the counter, dusting the surface with flour to keep it from sticking. Before long, flour was everywhere once again, on the counter, on your clothes, and even in your hair.

“This is why we should have left the cleaning till after we were done making. Now we are just going to have to clean up the mess we just have again.”

Alexia held up a handful of flour, a mischievous look on her face.

“You wouldn’t dare,” you said, narrowing your eyes.

With a smirk, she tossed it in your direction, leaving you dusted in a cloud of flour. You sputtered, reaching out to grab a handful of flour in retaliation, but she quickly ducked out of range, laughing.

“Alexia Putellas, you’re asking for it,” you said, also laughing as you tossed a little flour back at her. Before long, you were both covered in it, giggling like kids as the kitchen transformed into a powdered winter wonderland.

Once you’d both called a truce and brushed as much flour off as possible ready to sweep and hoover up later, you returned to the task at hand. Alexia grabbed a variety of cookie cutters, stars, trees, snowflakes, even one shaped like a football. She handed you the football cutter with a grin.

“Thought it’d be fitting,” she said, winking.

You smiled, pressing the cookie cutter into the dough. “And here I thought you’d want them all to look like trophies.”

She rolled her eyes, though you could see the amusement dancing in her gaze. “Trophies are great, but it’s much more about being part of the team and playing the sport we love, right?”

She was very right, and you nodded along to what she said sending her a smile at the sentiment.

With the cookies cut out and spread onto baking sheets, you slid them into the oven and set a timer, giving yourselves a well-deserved break. As you waited, you leaned against the counter with Alexia, both of you sipping on mugs of mulled wine you’d set up to heat earlier. With the sweet smell of the cookies baking filling the air, the comfort of Alexias presence next to you and your fingers wrapped around the warm mug, you couldn’t dream of a better place to be.

“So,” you said, nudging her slightly, “any predictions on which of the team is going to be most impressed with our masterpiece cookies?”

Alexia grinned. “Oh, I can already see Patri’s face lighting up. She’s got a serious sweet tooth. And Clàudia? She’ll love anything we give her, but I think the football cookies might be a hit with her.”

“Good point,” you said, picturing the reactions of your teammates. “Ingrid will probably love the fact that we’re even doing this at all. Though she’ll probably tease you if they’re not perfect.”

Alexia laughed, rolling her eyes. “Let her. I’ll just make sure to give her one of the best-looking ones.”

When the timer chimed, you and Alexia excitedly pulled the trays of cookies from the oven, marvelling at how they’d turned out. For the most part, they were solid, a little uneven here and there, but golden brown and delicious looking. Some had spread into oddly shaped blobs, though, making both of you burst into laughter.

“I think this one was supposed to be a snowflake,” you said, holding up a misshapen cookie that looked like a lopsided star.

Alexia snorted, taking it from you and giving it a look of mock admiration. “A work of art.”

As you let the cookies cool, you both began preparing the frosting and decorations. Alexia was surprisingly meticulous, carefully spreading an even layer of white frosting on each cookie before adding red and green sprinkles.

You, on the other hand, went for creativity over precision, drawing little designs on the cookies with the icing, though some of them were less successful than others.

After a while, you noticed Alexia had gotten quiet, focused intently on one cookie. She was decorating a soccer ball-shaped one, adding a tiny Barca logo in the middle with red and blue icing. Her tongue poked out slightly as she concentrated, and you couldn’t help but smile at how serious she looked.

“Taking cookie decorating to a whole new level, are we?” you teased, leaning over to get a closer look.

She grinned, holding up her creation. “Look at this! Barca’s newest mascot. Cookie edition.”

You chuckled, admiring her work. “I love it, I think we should keep this one for us. You’re really putting your heart into this, aren’t you?”

Alexia shrugged, a faint blush creeping onto her cheeks. “Well, it’s just nice to do something special for everyone, you know? I want them to know I appreciate them. I thought maybe this would be a fun way to show it. It been a long season so far and I haven’t been able to help on the pitch recently.”

You felt a warmth spread through you at her words, touched by how much she cared, not that you didn’t already know this but still hearing her say it out load to you warmed you. “They’re lucky to have you. I’m lucky to have you. And for what it’s worth, I think they’ll definitely feel the love.”

Alexia smiled, a soft, contented look in her eyes. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

When all the cookies were finally decorated, you surveyed the results. Stars with sparkly sugar, Christmas trees with green frosting, footballs, and even a few gingerbread players. Some of the cookies were a bit unique, but they were unmistakably festive, and you could feel the holiday spirit.

Alexia stepped back, admiring the table full of treats. “Okay, I think we did pretty well,” she said, pride in her voice. “Ready to deliver these?”

Later that evening, you both arrived at the training facility for the Christmas meet up, carefully carrying trays of cookies wrapped in cellophane and tied with red and green ribbons. The team was in for a surprise, and you couldn’t wait to see their reactions.

As you walked in, Patri spotted you both and immediately called out, “Are those cookies?”

Alexia grinned, holding up the trays. “Homemade, just for you guys.”

The team gathered around, curious and excited as Alexia began handing out cookies. Patri’s eyes lit up as she picked one of the brightly frosted stars, immediately taking a bite.

“This is amazing!” she exclaimed, mouth full. “Who knew you were a baker, Alexia?”

Clàudia grabbed a football cookie as you had predicted. “Look, it’s a Barca cookie!”

Everyone laughed, the festive mood spreading as they admired the various shapes and designs. Even Mapi, who usually had a playful, teasing side, looked genuinely touched as she picked out a perfectly decorated snowflake cookie.

“Not bad, chef,” she said to Alexia with a wink, taking a bite. “I’m impressed.”

Alexia cowered a little under the praise, rubbing the back of her neck. “It was a team effort,” she said, nodding in your direction.

The team continued to snack and laugh, breaking into conversations about holiday plans and favourite Christmas movies. In the midst of the busy season, this small gesture brought everyone together, giving you all a moment to relax, laugh, and enjoy the holiday spirit.

As the evening wound down, Alexia slipped her hand into yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Thank you for helping me do this. I think it turned out even better than I’d imagined.”

You smiled, leaning into her. “I’d bake cookies with you any day.”

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

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supernovafics · 1 year ago

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requesting for the ill be there for you universe! the kids are coming over so steve and r plan a lil dinner party… well they make the dinner together… and its just a little too domestic…. bonus if they end up dancing to some silly song on the radio because arent we all a sucker for dancing in the kitchen 😭😭😭😭😭 the kids walk in on them and are like 🤨🤨 those two need to get together now so baddddddddddd

𝐌𝐀𝐘𝐁𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 1.6k words

warnings: explicit language

summary: in which a new year’s dinner at the apartment sparks a bet— that you and steve are completely unaware of— among the friend group

author's note: thank u for the request !! happy new year<33

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Winter 1986

Steve heard the knock on the door first; you were way too engrossed in singing along to the song that was loudly playing to notice the sound.

He maneuvered around you in the kitchen to go answer the door as you took a quick peek in the oven to check on the lasagnas.

It was your idea to have this “New Year’s dinner” at the apartment— since you and Steve had been sick during the holidays and couldn’t see anyone, this was to make up for that— and Steve agreed. Of course, Robin and Eddie said that they would come, and then the kids were an immediate yes as well.

Even though your and Steve’s collective cooking skills were not the best, you both still wanted to attempt and cook something for everyone, instead of simply ordering a couple of pizzas or takeout from some place. So, you got a lasagna recipe from Miss Johnson that she promised was very basic and couldn’t really be messed up; and so far, she’d been right. Although you did initially have to remake the sauce because of a mess up that you fully blamed on Steve and he fully blamed on you. But, after that, everything else luckily went fine.

When Steve opened the door and you looked over to see everyone bounding into the apartment, it was then that you remembered just how big the friend group was— you could only imagine what that elevator ride up to the apartment had been like.

“Is this The Breakfast Club soundtrack?” Robin asked, laughing as she slipped off her coat.

“Yes,” Steve answered. “This is what I’ve been subjected to for the past week.”

You immediately rolled your eyes at his words, which you somehow managed to hear over the loud music. “Oh, shut up, you were just singing along to the last song with me.”

“There’s only some truth to that,” He said as he walked over to the record player to turn the music down a bit.

Everyone settled at the dining table that Steve’s mom bought for you two for the Thanksgiving dinner that you’d been forced to have here with your parents— that was still somehow a memory that lingered harshly in the back of your mind, like most interactions with your parents did. The table was only meant to fit six people, so the desk chairs that normally sat in your bedrooms were pulled out and placed at the table, and then two foldable chairs were borrowed from your other next door neighbor; this guy in his mid-sixties who would have weekly poker nights with his friends. You would continuously joke around with Steve and tell him that he should join in on the poker nights. In response, he’d always simply roll his eyes at you because you knew that he was bad at poker and he’d also rather not spend his Tuesday nights with random old men.

Mike walked over to you and handed you a tupperware full of what you could tell were gingerbread cookies. “Since you missed the Christmas party, my mom wanted me to give these to you.”

You immediately smiled. “Holy shit, God bless that woman. Please tell her I said thank you.”

He nodded at that and then went over to the table, sitting down next to El.

Steve went back over to where you were in the kitchen and started reaching for the tupperware, but you immediately shooed his hand away. When he simply pouted at you, you rolled your eyes and then opened it so that he could grab a cookie, which he did and then broke it in half so that he could give a piece of it to you.

“Is it just me or have they been acting extra old married couple lately?” Dustin asked, looking away from the interaction that just happened.

“Oh, yeah, definitely,” Max answered almost immediately and pretty much everyone else simply nodded in agreement.

Neither you nor Steve were paying any attention to the conversation that was currently taking place barely ten feet away from you; instead you both were focused on finishing up the food. You were pulling one of the lasagnas out of the oven and Steve was grabbing the other before putting the store bought garlic bread in the oven— you both had figured that if the lasagna did end up turning out bad, there would at least be bread that neither of you had a hand in making to somewhat save the day.

“I fully believe that this will be the year that they finally get together,” Lucas said, sounding very certain.

Robin shook her head at that. “No way. If they were gonna date, it would’ve happened already. Years ago, probably.”

She thought back to this past Halloween where you and Steve were dressed up in your Batman and Robin costume, and at some point during the night he ended up giving you a piggyback ride while you all were walking to some party, and she and Vickie were trailing a bit behind the two of you. She thought about how certain she had felt when answering Vickie’s question about if you two had ever dated. “They seem like they’d be perfect together, but I also think the world would implode if they ever tried something.” For the most part, that still felt entirely true. Even though it would’ve made complete sense if something happened, it still didn’t seem necessarily “possible” at this point— it felt like such a far-fetched idea.

“I’m gonna have to agree with Rob on this one. I don’t think they’ll ever actually get together,” Eddie said and then started laughing a bit as he said his next words. “Or it’ll happen twenty years down the road after they’ve both been married to other people and then divorced, and then they’ll finally realize that all they needed and wanted was each other.”

“Wow, that sounds like the most depressing movie ever,” Will told him.

“I guess it wouldn’t be that sad since they would end up together in the end,” El said with a small shrug.

Eddie nodded. “Exactly.”

“Okay, yeah, maybe that could happen, but I don’t think it would take that long anymore because things are so different now,” Dustin said. “They’re living together, they have a child together.” He gestured to Harold the Hamster’s cage that sat on the coffee table in the living room. “They’re practically already a couple. It’s inevitable now. Soon they’ll be married and there will be actual children involved, not just Harold.”

Robin rolled her eyes at his final statement. “They’re best friends. They’ve known each for like ten years.”

“Yeah, which is just another reason why they’re definitely gonna end up together,” Lucas said. “Also, I can’t even remember the last time either of them went on a date, and Steve usually always talks about his dates.”

“Actually, he was just going out with that girl last month,” Will chimed in. “Vanessa or something?”

“And that ultimately led nowhere,” Max reminded him.

Mike took a brief look over at you and Steve to make sure that you two still weren’t listening to the current conversation. “Okay, I have an idea. We should make this a bet. We each say when we think they’ll get together, and if it does end up happening we all give whoever got it right or was the closest five bucks.”

Eddie laughed before nodding. “I actually kind of like that idea.”

“It’s a great idea,” Dustin said with a nod, and it didn’t necessarily surprise anyone when he pulled out a small notebook and pen out of his pocket because it somehow made sense that he would be the one to bring a notebook and pen to a dinner party; he was probably prepared for anything.

He started off by saying February– because even though it was only a month away, it was in fact, the month of love— and then everyone started going around the table saying their guesses. Lucas said April, Max and El both said March, Mike said July, Will said August, Robin said a very certain “Never,” and Eddie finished by saying a playful and only slightly serious, “Twenty years.”

It was almost comical how oblivious you and Steve were to what was happening not that far away from you both. Instead, your attention was on grabbing enough silverware for everyone since the plates were already set on the table and Steve was pulling out some cups.

“I think both of our moms would scold us for not setting everything out before they came,” You told Steve, laughing a bit.

“Very true. I guess our years of being forced to eat at fancy restaurants with them have truly taught us nothing,” He joked back and you smiled at that as you both walked over to the dining table. “We’re gonna bring over the lasagna in a second. What are you guys talking about?”

“Nothing,” Eddie said casually as Dustin slipped his notebook back into his pocket, which was a subtle action that neither of you noticed. “Just some movie.”

Once everything was set on the table, you two went back to the kitchen to grab the lasagnas.

“The bread will be done in a couple minutes, so if the lasagna sucks we’ll eat that,” You said as you sat down in one of the two empty chairs left, which just so happened to be your desk chair. “Also, if it sucks, blame Steve, not me.”

He shook his head as he rolled his eyes at you and playfully poked your side before taking a seat in the other empty chair on the opposite side of the table. “If it sucks, blame both of us because this was a very mutual effort.”

Robin nodded. “Okay, got it. If this turns out to be the worst meal all of us have ever eaten we’ll make sure to hate both of you equally and not talk to either of you for at least a week.”

Luckily, the lasagna actually turned out pretty great.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fluff #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington series #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things fic #stranger things series #stranger things imagine #stranger things smut

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paceprompting · 19 days ago

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the gingerbread incident

@steddieholidaydrabbles & @steddiemas

Eddie was a disaster. He knew this.

His brain fired on all cylinders constantly and his mouth was hardly able to keep up, the residual energy coming out in gesturing with everything that he said. He bumped into everything, even in the trailer where he’d lived most of his life.

And, even with the best intentions, most areas he spent an extended amount of time in were usually left in chaos.

Especially with flour involved.

It’s not his fault he was left alone in Steve’s kitchen. There was supposed to be at least two gremlin children in there with him—he was only supposed to be supervising since it was their bake sale they were making gingerbread what-ever-the-hells for.

But the kids were still rough and tumbling outside in the first snow of the season, annihilating the older not-so-kids-anymore in a snowball fight.

Steve had already picked out a recipe from Joyce’s and Claudia’s cookbooks, opened and ready on the counter. He’d presumably bought anything he didn’t have, because gingerbread was apparently slightly more complex than Eddie would have expected.

So, Eddie took his best shot.

And now, everything was…everywhere.

But there was something that resembled dough, as far as Eddie could tell, in the mixer. It smelled like ginger, or maybe that was the molasses (and who knew there was fucking molasses in gingerbread). And there was supposed to be flour on the counter anyway when he “rolled the dough out,” so really he’s just ahead of the game.

Take that, Directions.

Eddie clapped his hands together, and a cloud of flour into the air, readying to lift his doughy child from the bowl with both hands.

“Holy shit.”

Steve had stopped just short of coming into the kitchen, his discarded gloves held in one hand. His nose and cheeks were still pink from being outside in the cold, but the warmth of his brown eyes were fixed directly on Eddie, standing half-covered in flour in the middle of his kitchen.

“Hey, Stevie,” Eddie said pleasantly, standing up straight. He brushed a stray one of his curls away from his face, definitely getting flour where his fingers grazed his cheek and temple. “I, uh, decided to make the kids’ gingerbread.”

“And there was enough flour left over after you dumped it on the floor?” Steve said, tentatively stepping onto the tile floor, leaving bootprints in places where, sure, there was a considerable amount of flour where Eddie had knocked a full measuring cup off the counter with his hand.

But that would have happened to anyone.

“I was left unsupervised,” he defended. “While you were all gallivanting outside.”

Steve had the decency to look somewhat chastized, as he set his gloves on a miraculously saved counter near the fridge and joined Eddie on his side of chaos.

“Sorry we left you alone, babe,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to Eddie’s cheek. He wiped flour off his lips, eyeing the dough in the mixer. “Can I try?”

“I suppose an integral part of the baking process is taste testing as you go.” Eddie gestured to his masterpiece. “Knock yourself out.”

Steve chuckled, stepping close into Eddie’s space to reach past him into the silver mixing bowl. He pinched off some of the raw dough between two fingers and his thumb, raising his brows as he popped it into his mouth.

“Yeah,” Steve said, poorly holding back a puckered expression as he forced down the piece of Eddie’s dough. “You need to start over. Immediately.”

Eddie’s mouth dropped open. “But I followed the recipe! I read it three times.”

Steve sucked on his teeth, trying to work whatever the taste was of Eddie’s cookie dough out of his mouth. “My best guess, you switched something with salt.”

“What are you talking about?”

Steve pointed his chin toward the mixing bowl, an unspoken, See for yourself.

And Eddie did. Just to prove Steve’ tastebuds, as much as he adored the rest of the man, irrevocably broken, Eddie tore off an even larger piece of his dough. And, purposefully holding Steve’s eyeline, put the dough into his mouth.

And…oh boy.

Barely two chews into it, the main flavor Eddie was getting was indeed what some people might call…salty.

“You might have a point,” he said, words muffled.

He couldn’t bring himself to swallow. He had to turn sharply toward the trash can and spit out the horrible, horrible crime against baking that he had created.

Good fucking Lord, what had he done?

He went next to the sink, sinking his head under the running faucet to wash the rest of the taste out of his mouth. He heard the thump of the rest of the dough following its comrade into the trash, courtesy of Steve.

Satisfied enough that he’d gotten the salt taste out, Eddie shut off the water and turned to face Steve, holding a hand over his mouth as though he could actually hide his smile at his own boyfriend’s suffering.

He should have just waited. Then he could have laughed at Henderson for inevitably making the same, or an even worse, mistake than Eddie had.

Eddie sighed.

“Will you help me with the second batch? So I don’t poison all the kids?” he asked, glancing mournfully at the mess that was going to get a whole lot worse now that Eddie had to start all over.

“Tell you what,” Steve said, opening a nearby drawer and pulling out a blue plaid apron. Eddie watched with widened eyes as he tied it on—looking way too fantasy-like for how many people were around to walk in on them. Steve bumped him out of it with his hip. “You can be my handsome helper. I’ll tell you exactly what I need, and all you have to do is hand it to me. Sound good?”

A front-row seat to Steve Harrington baking in an too-sexy apron? And he wasn’t in charge of the end result?

Sign. Him. Up.

#steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie microfic #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie drabble #steddie fanfiction #established relationship #cute fluff

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lisascorner · 1 month ago

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IN THE SPIRIT OF CHRISTMAS here are some ninjago CHRISTMAS DELEGATION HEADCANONS 🗣️🗣️ and i mean delegation as in who does what in preparing for the season itself.

WITHOUT FURTHER ADO LETS DO IT

lloyd

this boy is just the designated boy that gets to put the star on top of the tree. his other tasks consist of but are not limited to: eating gingerbread cookies, eating gingerbread houses, eating mint candy canes, and hanging up the stockings.

cole

it’s stereotypical, but he’s the one who sets up the tree. he tries to help out with the cooking, but zane refuses to let him into the kitchen LMAOOOO

jay

jay goes ALL OUT to decorate. having grown up in such a healthy and happy home, he definitely knows the best places to buy decorations and the way they’re placed. master wu gives him a budget and he’s just set free in the department store. he buys everyone stupid christmas sweaters and the crazy big inflatables and sets them up in front of the monastery.

nya

helps jay out with the more technical stuff, since jay is too busy in his own world making a little miniature town on the coffee table. christmas lights, fixtures, and the like.

kai

the lighter. jay puts multiple candles around the monastery and kai just lights them up. he helps zane heat up the cookies they make for everyone to share.

zane

the BAKER and cooker and the drinks maker. his hot chocolate recipes are perfection, his baked goods are top notch, and his cooked food gives all the ninja a sense of warmth in their chest when they eat it. additionally, he helps create ice sculptures!

i like to think they help out with the tree in general, but they only let lloyd put the star on the tree because:

he’s the youngest

he never really celebrated christmas with his family before so the ninja just let him have the best job

OKAY THANKS IM GONNA GO EAT MY DIMSUM NOW HAPPY HOLIDAYS

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lupinsweater · 24 days ago

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Through the Years We All Will Be Together

part two →

Remus Lupin x Fem!Reader 🎁 1.9k words

⋆꙳•❅*‧ ‧*❆ ₊⋆ ꙳•❅*‧ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

The snow was falling gently on the Lupins’ small cottage, covering the garden in a soft quilt of white. Ten-year-old Remus sat by the window, his breath fogging up the glass as he watched the flurries dance in the glow of the streetlamp. He wasn’t expecting company—not on Christmas Eve, when most families were tucked away with their own traditions.

He hugged his knees to his chest, trying not to think about how Christmas felt different this year. His parents had done their best—there was a tree, strung with hand-me-down ornaments, and the scent of pine needles mixed with the faint aroma of his Mum’s cooking. But the lingering silence was heavy. It was the first Christmas since it happened—the full moon that had changed his life forever.

Remus jumped at the knock on the door. It was sharp and clear, echoing through the stillness. His parents exchanged a glance from the kitchen, but before either could move, Remus was already on his feet.

The cold air bit at his face as he swung the door open excitedly, sending a breeze into the house that made the fireplace flicker. You stood there on the porch, bundled in a too-big scarf and a wool coat that was so large that it reached your ankles, the hem covered in slushy snow. Snow clung to your hair and shoulders, and your cheeks were pink from the cold.

“You came,” Remus said, his voice soft but tinged with surprise.

“Of course I came,” you replied, rolling your eyes with a grin. “What else was I going to do, sit around while my mum and dad have their boring Christmas party?” You lifted a tin wrapped in a bow. “She sent these for you. Said you need fattening up.”

Remus laughed—a real laugh, not the polite one he’d been using all day. He stepped aside to let you in, and you stomped your boots on the welcome mat before slipping them off, followed by your coat, scarf, and mittens.

Inside, the warmth hit you instantly, and you rubbed your hands together. “Smells good in here,” you said, peeking toward the kitchen. “Merry Christmas, Mr. and Mrs. Lupin!”

His Mum poked her head out, her face lighting up at the sight of you. “Merry Christmas, dear! Oh, those must be your mum’s famous shortbread.” She glanced at Remus, her smile softening. “Why don’t you two come sit down at the table? I’m almost done in here, and then you two can start on the gingerbread.”

“Okay,” you said cheerfully, grabbing Remus’ hand with your free one and tugging him into the kitchen with you.

The Lupin kitchen smelled like cinnamon, nutmeg, and a little bit of something lemony. You sat down at the table while Remus walked up to one of the cabinets, squeezing around his Mum to get to the drawer where they kept the cookie cutters.

“I don’t think we need the snowman one,” he said, pulling out a bent star-shaped cutter.

“But the snowman’s a classic!” you argued, shooting him a glare. “You can’t have Christmas cookies without snowmen!”

Remus rolled his eyes but placed the star cutter on the table. “Fine, but you’re decorating it. And you’re the one who has to explain why it looks like a blob.”

“It’s not a blob!” you protested.

“Last year, it was definitely a blob,” he said with a laugh.

“Well, this year it won’t be,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest defiantly.

Remus’ Mum finished mixing her bowl, and she poured the batter inside into a cake pan that got covered with cling film. She set the pan into the fridge and grabbed out the ingredients the two of you would need, as well as the recipe card.

“Alright, you two, the kitchen’s all yours,” she said, ruffling Remus’ hair with a smile despite his protests.

Remus pulled out two aprons that seemed about the right size, tossing one over to you as he tied his own. He looked at the recipe card on the counter, beginning to grab the measuring cups and spoons until he heard your protests.

Your back was facing him, your small fingers fumbling to reach the apron ties. “A little help, maybe?” you said with annoyance.

Remus laughed, coming over to tie the apron for you as you huffed at him. When he finished, you turned around to look at him, seeing the smug grin on his face.

“You’re too smug for someone who almost burned the cookies last year,” you said, crossing your arms.

“That wasn’t my fault!” he protested. “You’re the one who distracted me with your ridiculous reindeer story.”

“It wasn’t ridiculous,” you said defensively. “It’s festive.”

He shook his head, still grinning, and slid the mixing bowl over to you as he measured the flour. “Alright, then. What’s next, master baker?”

You squinted at the recipe card propped up on the counter. It was written in the neat, looping handwriting that you knew was Remus’s mum’s.

“Okay,” you said, reading aloud. “We’ve got to add in the spices and the baking soda, and then we’ve got to get another bowl to mix the other stuff.”

“Why don’t you do the ‘other stuff’,” Remus said, raising an eyebrow at you as he grabbed the spices and began to measure them out. He watched out of the corner of his eye as you added the brown sugar and butter into the other, mixing it with a whisk until your arms grew tired and you were satisfied with the way it looked.

“Help me with this part, will you?” You called over to him. “My arms are just so tired.” He shook his head at you with mock exasperation as he came over to look at the recipe card.

“It’s just adding in the eggs, molasses, and vanilla,” he said with a laugh, measuring the syrup and vanilla out. You cracked the eggs into the mixture; and he began to stir it in as you washed your hands of the slimy eggs.

“Now what?” You said, walking back over to him and peering over his shoulder to see the instructions.

“We’re supposed to cut the cookies into shapes, bake them, and then—”

“Decorate them with our amazing artistic abilities?” you finished, smirking at him.

“Or with lots of icing,” he said, grinning back at you.

Half an hour later, the two of you were elbow-deep in cookie dough. The table was covered in flour, and there were far more “blobs” than actual shapes in your pile of cut-outs.

“Why does this star look like it’s been through a snowstorm?” Remus asked, holding up one of the cookies.

“Maybe it’s just sleepy,” you said, snatching it from his hand and placing it on the baking tray.

He shook his head but didn’t argue, instead grabbing another chunk of dough to roll out. “Do you think Santa likes stars, or is he more of a gingerbread man kind of guy?”

“Santa likes everything,” you said confidently. “Except raisins. No one likes raisins.”

Remus laughed, and you couldn’t help but smile. His laugh was your favorite sound, especially when it came so easily, like now. He had been laughing less and less, these days.

“What do you think Santa does when Christmas is over?” you asked as you carefully placed another snowman on the tray.

Remus shrugged. “Probably sleeps for a year. That’s what I’d do if I were him.”

“You already do sleep for a year,” you teased.

“Not true!” he exclaimed, tossing a small handful of flour at you.

You gasped, staring at the white streak on your sleeve. “You did not just—”

Before you could finish, you grabbed your own handful of flour and flung it back at him.

“Hey!” he yelped, ducking.

Within seconds, the kitchen was a battleground, both of you laughing as clouds of flour filled the air. By the time you called a truce, you were both covered from head to toe in white powder, and the counter was even more of a disaster than before.

“You look like a ghost,” you said, giggling as you brushed flour off his hair.

“You’re one to talk,” he shot back, but there was a softness in his eyes as he reached out and wiped a streak of icing from your cheek.

Once the cookies were finally in the oven, the two of you flopped down at the kitchen table, exhausted but victorious.

“Do you think we’ll get in trouble for the mess?” you asked nervously, glancing at the flour-covered counters.

Remus shrugged. “Maybe. But it was worth it.”

You grinned, grabbing one of the bowls of icing and dipping your finger into it. “Want some?”

He made a face. “That’s raw icing! You’re going to get sick.”

“Oh, please,” you said, rolling your eyes. “It’s just sugar. Live a little.”

With a sigh, he grabbed a spoon and dipped it into the icing, taking a small bite. His eyes widened in surprise. “Okay, fine. That’s actually pretty good.”

“Told you,” you said smugly.

As the two of you sat there, licking icing off your fingers and waiting for the cookies to bake, he felt a warmth settle in his chest. It wasn’t just the heat from the oven or the sugar rush from the icing—it was the simple, unshakable feeling that he was exactly where he was meant to be.

When the cookies were finally done, the two of you set to work decorating them. There were stars with crooked lines of icing, snowmen with lopsided scarves, and one particularly ambitious attempt at a Christmas tree that looked more like a green blob.

“This,” Remus said, holding up a star with way too many sprinkles, “is a masterpiece.”

“It’s a mess,” you said, laughing.

“Yeah, but we did them,” Remus said, his smile bright.

Neither of you could disagree, there.

“Hey, Remus?” you asked after a moment, your voice uncharacteristically soft.

“Yeah?” he replied.

“Do you think things will be like this forever?”

He frowned slightly, turning his head to look at you. “Like what?”

“You know. Us. Hanging out, telling stories, making gingerbread. Christmas.”

Remus paused, looking down at the cookie in his hand. For a moment, he wasn’t sure how to respond, but then he looked up at you with a small, genuine smile.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I think it will.”

You smiled at that, the kind of smile that made him feel like maybe things could be okay. Like maybe there were pieces of his life that hadn’t been taken away, that were still his to keep.

The clock chimed, and the sound startled you upright. “Midnight already?” you said, scrambling to your feet. “Mum’s going to kill me!”

You grabbed your coat, tugging it on in a flurry, and Remus helped you step into your boots before tying your scarf around your neck. You darted toward the door, but just before you stepped outside, you turned back, pausing in the soft glow of the tree lights.

“Merry Christmas, Remus,” you said, your voice warm and sincere.

“Merry Christmas,” he replied, his chest tightening in a way he didn’t fully understand.

He watched as you disappeared into the snow, your figure fading into the swirling white. For a long time after, he stood at the door, staring at the footprints you’d left behind.

Years later, when he was older and the world felt heavier, he would think back to this day. To the flour fight, the crooked snowmen, and the way you had smiled at him, like nothing else in the world mattered.

#lupinsweater #lupinsweater’s 12 days of ficmas #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin oneshot #marauders fluff #marauders fanfiction #marauders era #christmas fanfic #christmas fic

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thesamoanqueen · 1 year ago

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Christmas cookies

Raiting: 18+

Warnings: smut, fluff.

A/N: I wanted to try writing a one-shot for christmas since I did it last year and @mindofasagittaruis request came at the right time. Enjoy and happy holidays yall~

One boxe at a time he had managed to arrange everything, filling the huge tree base that him and Y/N had decorated together a week before. He knew she would complain, scolding him because it was too much, but Roman liked to spoil her and for that occasion he had really wanted everything.

It was their first Christmas together as a couple and he wanted it to be special. Y/N liked Christmas, was her favorite holiday, she got more excited than a little girl every time and he had promised himself and her, to do everything possible to make sure nothing was missing. They had decorated the house inside and out, planned dinners with family, started watching christmas movies, booked a weekend out fitting it between both of their schedules and Roman had tried not to plan something more to finally give voice to that impulse that was now becoming an urgency.

Admiring his work one last time, he went to the kitchen, where Y/N had decided to spend her afternoon with the most classic Christmas songs, wearing yet another hoodie stolen not too discreetly from his closet. When he crossed the door, there was no corner where she hadn't scattered a little bit of sugar, flour and sprinkles. It was a battlefield strewn with bowls, trays, and baking ingredients that smelled of vanilla, cinnamon and chocolate, the kind of chaos that warms heart and tastes like home.

- What's going on here? – he inquired with a smile and she turned to look at him, hands dirty with who knows what raised in the air, while Roman twisted his arms around her hips to swing her playfully.

- I should ask to you, what was all that chaos back there? – she asked suspiciously, giving him one of knowing looks, but he pretended not to notice, giving her a quick kiss on her cheek and peeking what she was backing.

- Don't know, Santa probably.

- I don't remember I have written a letter to him.

- So these ones are for me? – he asked, pointing the Christmas cookies placed on the marble counter.

It wasn't the kind of food she usually prepared if she decided to get into the kitchen, she was more into salty and spicy recipes, and yet there they were, lots of gingerbread men, trees and cinnamon houses waiting to be decorated.

- It's just an experiment, I wanted to make something special but then I remembered you already have me in your life so I tried with simple things… guess they're not so simple – she reflected pouting, moving a couple of those who she had already tried to decorate.

The shapes were flawless, but icings had mixed together, dripping around and ruining the designs she'd tried to make. Not the kind of result expected from her being a perfectionist and Roman found himself smiling as he watched her look them one by one with her still dirty fingers, until he reached out to take a snowman. It was supposed to be white with a carrot-nose and a scarf he knew it, but the little one didn't have a very happy expression, a bit like her, at least until he swallowed it.

-They taste good – he approved, feeling the aftertaste of spices warming his mouth and he reached out to take another one.

Amazed, Y/N watched him chew the second too, face lighting up, smile emerging again on her soft lips, as she cleaned him from a crumb ended on his beard.

- Really? I should bake them for Santa so. To thanks him for all those gifts no one asked for I guess, what do you say? – she joked, tilting her head.

-I say he can have them, if I can have the chef – he left a kiss on her lips this time, mixing the flavor of Christmas cookies with her own.

He felt her soften without a single thought into his arms, flattening herself almost completely against his chest, clinging to his neck as best she could while avoiding dirtying him with icing and chocolate.

-You taste like cookies – he heard her soft laughing, between one kiss and another, making him groan.

- Yes?

- … uh-huh

He couldn't resist those whispers, even if they were playing, to see her hopelessly happy if they were together. Stealing kiss after kiss, he pulled her onto his body, forcing her legs to wrap around his hips as he placed her on the only empty corner of the kitchen counter. With her warm laughter in his ears, he slid his hands up her soft thighs, climbing higher, until he felt the full texture of that glorious ass, as he stopped kissing her to taste then her neck. By heart, he sucked that point just beyond her collarbone that caused her to shiver, immediately feeling her cling better, squeeze with her laughter which slowly became moans, forgetting about her hands dirty to hug him.

- I hadn’t finished though – she complained, her body seeming to melt like icing from his attentions and Roman slid his hands past her sweatshirt, touching that soft good smelling skin.

- I want my dessert – he demanded seriously and felt her scratching the back of his neck with red nails, drawing a dangerous growl from him that vibrated through the whole kitchen.

Without taking his lips away from her, savoring the inside of her mouth and the soft skin above her breasts, he stripped her of those extra clothes, her hands doing the same to his pants, leaving traces everywhere and making both of them as dirty as the rest. Slowly, Roman took his time to mark her, enjoy everything of that moment, ignoring his already awake boner demanding attention, to dedicate himself to something better, hidden between those infinite legs that refused to leave him. When his long fingers found her, Roman couldn't resist the temptation, dipping a finger into the heat of her perfectly wet pussy to explore the soft, welcoming walls where he wanted to sink until he completely lost himself. Y/N in front of him tightened his grip on his neck, gasping into his arms, gaze fascinated and full of lust as she watched him bring the hand up to lick clean his fingers.

- This one is just for me – he reminded her, feeling her cling to his wrist to place a kiss on the bottom lip, tasting herself too before sliding down with the back to give him all the room he demanded.

Satisfied, Roman helped her lift her thighs, making his way between them, to finally dip himself in that perfect sweet meal, nose sliding between her folds tracing the path before his fat tongue. He took a taste, slow, just with the tip, feeling Y/N's body tremble for attentions and stopped to suck high on that adorable button that made her tremble. Breaths soon became brazen moans and more volume increased, more insistent, hungry Roman became. It was so sweet down there, a bit like that icing with which she had covered cookies but not cloying, it was a flavor that he could no longer live without and that he always tried to milk away, until it dripped down onto his beard, making his mouth salivating. First her button, then that hot entrance and soft walls, puffy, full skin of the lips he loved to kiss as much as the ones up there, running his tongue flat between her, fucking that cave without mercy. Insistently he kept her pressed against his face, choking himself, maneuvering her for more, slow but commanding until Y/N began to delight him with her adorable cries, her back arched and hands trying to grab him for support.

Something next to them fell due to her jerky movements, one of the trays and Roman saw her turn her with a blank look, ending up stretching out his arm, putting the tray and bowl of icing into their place. Y/N smiled, thanking him with a glance and he placed a kiss with devotion on her pussy, his pussy, Roman’s eyes getting darker as he saw Y/N biting her lip as eager as he was at the sight of him now dirty with icing.

- Did you find something for your dessert? – he heard her ask with lust, legs pulling him closer and he grinned.

- I like it with cream on top – he reflected thoughtfully, letting some of the icing on his hand drip between her folds.

He saw her entrance tighten around nothing at the feeling, bewitching and nasty as only Y/N could be with him, only when they were together. Her, who always tried to leave nothing to chance, who controlled every little detail, perfect, impeccable, became something else with him in those moments, stooping to try anything without complaints. She was a dangerous gift, a challenge he had never found in anyone else and that would have brought him to his knees if only she had asked, a power game in which they both had the same hand but used it with complicity.

He ran his fingers between her folds, listening to her mewl, seeing Y/N hold her breath when one of his long fingers slipped some icing inside, mixing it with her juices and the saliva he had already left.

- Ahn… feels so cold mmh – she begged with those eyes that had bewitched him, pushing him to turn his hand, sink a little more to find that welcoming spot that made her cry in absolute bliss.

-Im gonna fill you up – he announced and Y/N squirmed on the counter, between spilled icing and broken cookies, without stopping being finger fucked, because she knew it wasn't with any of those ingredients that Roman wanted to do keep his promise.

Pumping into her opening, he reached down to taste her again, this time licking away the frosting he had spilled, tongue running slowly and hungrily over every inch of her soft, sensitive caramel skin. He sucked on her swollen button, the taste of her body mixing with vanilla, the sweetness of her honey hitting Roman’s mouth along with icing. A beautiful, soggy mess echoing inside his ears, a primal call that made him hungrier and hungrier as his wide mouth tried to devour her alive, kissing and licking her clean.

He loved the choking noise that came from her throat every time his lips sucked one or both of hers down there, the pop wet flesh, nose that ran through her pussy like a credit card ready to be emptied. It was the kind of pussy that had any man tied around a finger, one he would do anything for and it led to devotion, Roman was obsessed with her and looking back he really didn't know how to managed to live without, but it wasn't just that. It was all of her, it was Y/N. She had dangerously become his world even before sharing a house or Christmas together, and it was in unexpected moments like this one that reminded him of it, waking up in the depths of his stomach, inside his head, an impulse that didn't exist even in a ring, with adrenaline running into his veins, cheered by thousands of people. The need with which he had chased her for an entire year, in hotels, arenas and offices, around the country and even beyond the borders, day and night, that grip on lungs of a drowning man.

He kissed her legs, feeling her hands pulling a few locks, knees trembling as she felt him bury himself between those folds, widening that glistening opening with fingers, inserting his tongue to clean her like a mad man until he elicited a scream. Her walls tried to close, to squeeze him, as they would have done with his hard cock and Roman found himself moving his hips aimlessly, seeking relief and refusing to abandon his meal before having reduced her to tears.

He fucked her with his fat tongue, flat and strong, pounding deep into her softness, feeding on that true addicting sweetness, widening his mouth to take in as much as possible, dirtying his beard.

- Plea-aase! R-Ro, Ro! Ah! - he felt her tremble, body struggling on the marble counter, held in his arms in that unnatural pose which Y/N did not refuse to submit to anyway, just to keep her legs on his shoulders to give him everything he wanted.

He knew she was at her limit, but he refused to slow down, craving more, that impulse in his chest that was growing until he felt like was going to explode and pushed him to be savage. He ran his fingers over her button, squeezing it between his fingers to help her and as he licked her again, his tongue flat against the hot opening, Y/N exploded with a silent cry, eyes closed, breath broken. The taste of her was intoxicating, addictive and Roman stood there, as close as possible, accompanying her as she reached her peak, cleansing with dedication. With his eyes fixed on her face, he held her back until her muscles regained some strength, trailing kisses down her flat belly, up her legs, massaging Y/N with his fingers where she still throbbed and only when her shaking hands found him, along with those beautiful eyes, he stood up again.

- I could spend all my life between your legs, babygirl – he admitted menacingly, getting rid of his track that she had already undone and with her breathing still rapid, Y/N invited him, tightening her legs around his hips at the sight of his erection slapping her already swollen center.

- Do what you want, ain't complainin'ahn!-

Sinking until he lost himself, he pulled her to the edge of the counter, fitting into her and giving a long, deep stroke, savoring her warmth and that feeling of constriction, in which she stuck him every time, without giving her time to think again. Oh, he meant to. He really meant it and the thought of her indulging him went to his head enough to push him to speed up without restraint, the slimy sound of their bodies colliding now audible even among the Christmas songs. Head down, holding her open thighs, he watched her honey stain him a little more each time he thrust in, her caramel-colored mountain swelling as his flesh went deeper.

-Mmh… you're so hard – Y/N cried in a soft moan, one hand clinging to his forearm and the other to the counter edge now sticky from the icing and her pleasure.

- I can feel you squeeze around me babe, grab that dick, thats right, let daddy enjoy his pussy, y-yes – he spoke dirty, feeling and seeing her walls sucking him in, abs tense.

- Ooh shit Ro-

More her moans became louder more his hips accelerated, in Roman mind the full intention of wreck her just for himself, drilling in that spot that made her mouth open wide, taking the breath out of her lungs, making eyes close, her belly full. There was just her begging, that gorgeous luscious body of her tense and sweaty, his breath heavy, that fire running up to his mind clouded by the vision of Y/N suffering with pleasure his assault, the hammering of his hard cock. It was an asphyxiating pleasure, a hot and inexorable vice that pulsated around Roman meat, squeezing his flesh and inviting him to go deeper, until he slammed as far as possible to reach complete collapse.

- F-fu-ah! Ah! – he felt her tremble, writhe in spasms and pinned her down, fingers digging into her hips, anchoring her to that place.

- That's it, ah, beg sweetheart, yes, gimme your mess

- pl-leeah! Please!

Groaning, hyping her and himself, Roman pulled one of her legs up higher, slapping a hand into her thigh and Y/N screamed, her head sprawling from side to side, eyes closed and back arching for that new inclination. From there, he could see her moist pearl, the whitish excitement leaking out, dripping onto the marble and down, that wonderful ring that ignited the worst thoughts in him. He felt her walls tighten with more and more insistence, nails digging into his flesh and his belly on fire, while without any warning, already tormented by his attacks, Y/N once again fell apart with a strangled moan.

And so, Roman began to fuck her without mercy, growling, giving vent to every ounce of need in his body and mind, cock sliding deeper and deeper, his hot head pounding inside that sweet cave, taking advantage of her climax and streached walls. Losing all composure, losing himself in a sensation that only Y/N could give him, Roman felt shivers run down his sweaty neck and pumped until muscles burned from the physical effort, once again exceeding the limit, hitting the kitchen counter with his knees.

- Feels so good babygirl, mmmh, so good… - he moaned, while she was still panting and throbbing under him, holding on where she could, letting him go – I'm 'bout to come, lemme fill you up, I need it, I… need… it-ah!

Everything around him seemed to go silent for long minutes, only Y/N and her whispers were still there, her soft eyes that never lost sight of him, full of what he wished was love, that tired smile that widened into a perfect "o", while Roman pressed her against him, letting the fire that had burned him slide into her canal, making his nuts dry and cock throbbing. In an animalistic growl he froze inside her, emptying himself with mind suddenly white, feeling her hands pull him down, making his head rest against her breast. Silently, he gave two final, drunken thrusts to make sure there was nothing left with Y/N trying to push his hair back and leaving heated kisses on his temples. Clinging to her, he waited in that position to catch breath, music slowly starting to make sense again.

- I guess I'll have to start from the beginning... - Y/N complained with an amused breath after a while and Roman looked up, observing the mess they had created and then her, who was distractedly tasting some of the icing that had fallen on the counter.

- Need help? – he asked seriously, very seriously and Y/N stopped with a finger still on her lips, a smile growing like something else in him, once again.

A year earlier he had done everything possible to convince her to stay during holidays. Now that she was finally here, now that they were together and with no one and nothing chasing them, he was going to make the most of every second. Santa had his North Pole and later he would have his cookies, but on the Island of Relevancy was him who dictated times.

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