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prettyinsophie · 15 days ago

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Cum with me…to the gym

3k words

Your visit to the gym with Abby escalates quickly when you find out that a certain area can also be worked on by the adductor machine.

warnings: fingering (reader receiving), oh and the fingering is in public so yeah…

I lowkey hate this but it’s the only thing I’ve managed to finish writing throughout the whole year…sigh. I recently watched Arcane so…maybe I’ll start publishing about Vi or Sevika or both.

“Oh, c’mon! We still have two more exercises to go before finishing with some cardio!” Abby exclaims with a devilish smile across her lips, enjoying seeing you sweating and panting after doing three sets of Bulgarians.

After weeks of your best friend begging you to pay a visit to the gym, you obliged with the condition of getting to see Wicked afterward since Abby’s not a big fan of long movies, let alone musicals, so here you were; hair-sticking to your face, red cheeks, and skin glowing with sweat because Abby’s routine is no joke.

“Two more?! Can we just do one more? Pleaseee?” You beg in a whiny pout, giving her puppy eyes because you feel like you’ll pass out any moment now if you keep going. Of course, you’re being dramatic, but that’s just your zodiac sign being true to itself.

Abby playfully rolls her eyes, suppressing a smirk because she thinks you look adorable like that. She won’t tell you that, though, at least not in a non-mocking tone. “The machines are easier, and you can hit whatever weight you want. Sounds fair?”

You purse your lips, looking at her while she chugs some water down. It’s so unfair how godly she looks right now while you feel like a sticky mess. You nod, defeated more than anything because you might as well complete the routine properly. “Fine…”

The gym is fairly empty, but that doesn’t surprise you since it was one of your conditions to agree to come. And so you walk to the bench press, which was as hard as any other machine even with the lowest weight. You were more of a workout-at-home type of gal, after all, and Abby always mocked you because she’s a gym rat and this is her second home. To each their own, you don’t like being around strangers that much.

“What’s this one for?” You ask with your head tilting to the side, confused but willing to learn all about the stupid machine, eager because it’s the last one you’ll use today and for a while.

“This is the leg adductor, great for toning your legs and inner thighs. I’ll show you how to use it and then you can give it a go, yeah?”

“‘Kay…”

You can’t deny that it’s fun to see her in a trainer-like role, and you decide that it’s not that bad and that the reward will come later when you watch the 190-minute-long film. You watch Abby setting the machine and its weight intently, trying to make mental notes of everything so you won’t need her help for each little thing. And here goes…your eyes definitely find her hands gripping the handles more interesting than the exercise itself, or the way her thunder thighs push the weight inwards almost effortlessly. Phew. She finishes her set and stands from the machine so you can give it a go.

“See? Easy.” She smiles before adjusting the weight so it’s lighter for you.

You hesitate to get on it because it looks silly, and you definitely feel exposed with your legs spread open in your yoga pants.

“Oh wow, didn’t know you could open up this much,” She teases with a quizzical grin and her head cocking to the side, which makes you scoff and roll your eyes.

“Shut up, I do pilates after all, don’t I?” You excuse your almost obscene spreading, and to only make it worse, you’re wearing a thong and you plead that Abby won’t look down because you’re certain she’ll be able to catch a detailed glimpse of your pussy.

“Chill, I’m just fucking with ya. Let me help you…” Abby snorts, amused at how you respond to her mindless teasing. She bends down in your direction to adapt the position so you won’t be opened up like a christmas present, “…and there! Now hold onto these and try to push the weight inwards slowly, if you do it fast you’ll hurt yourself.”

Abby instructs and you do as you’re told. Slowly, you push your legs together, gripping the handles because the weight is definitely challenging, and after the bench press, Bulgarians, and squats, your legs are not the strongest, but you manage to do it.

“How’s the weight? Do you want me to lower it?” Abby asks, leaning on the machine’s weight rack, “Y-Yeah…it’s too heavy.” Your voice quakes tiredly, and the blonde wants to poke fun at you for it but decides to save it because she knows you’re doing your best. So she lowers the weight so it’s more comfortable.

It’s definitely difficult to do it with your wobbly legs, but it’s also fun in its own way. You close and open your legs at a slow pace, breathing deeply as you do each one, and with Abby watching is only making it harder to pretend you’re not struggling as much. Although it hurts, you’re not sure if you’re targeting the right area since you keep clenching your core unconsciously, and it only causes you to breathe heavier and heavier for some reason. Abby’s on her phone since you got the hang of it, and yes, you can do the exercise, but with each push from your legs, your body gets hotter and your breathing gets sharper. The last rep comes, and the pressure is overwhelming even after taking small breaks between each set. The muscles in your lower stomach tighten, and that’s when you feel your pussy clenching around nothing, and you realize…

This fucking exercise is fun because it’s stimulating you, and your friend in front of you probably has no idea of what’s happening since she’s watching instagram reels.

Your back arches ever so slightly from the seat, a familiar reaction from when you pleasure yourself, and the pooling between your thighs only worsens as you get closer to the end of the rep, clenching every muscle because it feels so good. A loud, raspy gasp escapes your lips, and your eyes immediately seek Abby, checking if she’s seeing what’s engaging between you and the machine, but she remains still so you keep going. Your thighs are shaking, begging you to end the exercise but you keep going despite already hitting the fifteenth one.

‘Almost…’ Even the voice in your head is ragged. Your cunt is throbbing, your abs are inhumanly clenching and the band in your stomach’s about to snap. The sweat is running down your face and your neck, but all you can focus on is that aching pooling in the pit of your stomach.

With your chest heaving and your lip caught between your teeth, you close your legs one more time and groan softly at your release, the chemicals in your brain plastering colorful dots in your vision, and you finally let go since your body’s all weak and shaky. You can barely ride out the bliss when it hits you.

You just had an orgasm. At the gym. With Abby two steps away from you.

“Fuck…” A throaty breath catches Abby’s attention, and thank god your yoga pants are black and not pink today.

“You finally done? I know you’re a newbie but it took you long enough.” Abby puts her phone in her pocket and looks down at you with that kind and charming grin of hers, and then there you are, a panting mess.

“I…need to go to the bathroom,” You announce breathily, quickly getting off the machine because you need to take care of the situation in your pants. The blonde frowns and you know she wants to ask if something’s wrong, but she sees you in a rush and simply points at the ladies' room. You almost run, cursing in your head again and again because what the fuck is wrong with you? The bathroom stalls are empty so you enter the last one, immediately banging your head against the door.

“You’re a fucking pervert. You’re pathetic!” You whisper, and your legs threaten to give up once again, which only upsets you further.

You rest your head against the door and look up, battling the tears brewing in your eyes. This is it; the lowest you’ve reached so far. Who knows if one of the few people out there saw you? Shit, shit, shit. You haven’t had time to play with yourself but this definitely wasn’t the solution to that!

Deep breath in and out, but no matter how calm you are now, the wet spot in your pants remains.

“Hey…you in here?” Abby’s voice makes you jump startled, and you curse again in your head.

“Y-Yeah, last stall.” Your voice is weak and raspy, but you manage to get the right tone to not let her know you’re about to cry.

“You okay? You looked…I dunno, weird.”

Abby’s worry makes your heart clench, and guilt showers you like a bucket of cold water. She’s your best friend though; you know every small quirk, have seen each other’s awkward phases, and most importantly, have kept secrets you know aren’t for anyone else to know. So you’ll be fine, you’re adults now so this isn’t a big deal, right?

You open the door and pull her arm so she’ll join you. Rapidly, you close the door again as if the entire bathroom isn’t empty. Abby chuckles, amused by the sudden move from you, but the smirk fades as soon as she sees the sulky look on your face with your lips almost pouting and your eyes glossy. “Hey…what happened?” Her brows meet in a concerned frown, and she reaches for your hand.

The embarrassment is strong enough to block your throat and tighten your chest. You bite your lip, looking up when Abby’s thumb gently rubs the back of your hand.

“I…” How could you even put it into words? No fancy vocabulary would make this any better, “...the pressure of the exercise was really strong, and I…don’t know how but I think I came.”

Abby’s heart dropped to her stomach, and for your sake, she contained as much shock as she could inside her, but the truth is…she found that adorably amusing and even kind of hot…? You look defeated, just like a puppy who knows did something wrong, and she wants to pet your head and cuddle you.

On your side though, you’re certain she’s thinking you’re a freak that should be locked away from society. You look away from her. Your heart thuds in nothing but shame, pumping the blood to your cheeks, painting them a bright red color.

“How bad is the situation?” Her voice is lower than usual, and you assume that is in case someone enters the bathroom.

“My pants are soaked…” You nearly sob, sniffing but holding it in.

Abby hums, taking a step close to your position against the door, and she hesitantly brings her hand to your clothed crotch as if to make sure you’re telling the truth. Your body reacts to that, naturally, and you jump a little, looking at her with your eyes widening because that’s unknown territory.

“Okay…listen, it’s completely normal, yeah? Tons of girls have gone through the same thing so it’s not like you’re the first one.” She soothes you, her voice low and smooth, almost like a lullaby, and her hand moves to your hip, squeezing it lightly to comfort you.

You huff in relief, still embarrassed but that statement definitely took some weight off your back. “Thank god, I feel like a pervert.”

“You probably are, but that’s okay too.” Of course, she pokes fun at you at the first chance, but she manages to make you laugh a little.

The scenario is a little weird. You’ve been in the most insane and random situations together, but this could top any of those other ones. Your back’s against the door, and Abby’s just centimeters away from you; her hand gripping your hipbone rather firmly, causing your hips to jerk unconsciously. Your eyes meet hers, and she has such an indistinct look on her face that you can’t say you’ve seen before.

“You’re still sensitive,” She states huskily, and you catch her licking her lips.

“Well, yeah. I just had an orgasm.” You also state, almost sarcastically because it’s more than obvious why your body is reacting to her grip.

“You know…having multiple orgasms will help you relax your tensed muscles.”

…okay?

She takes the one step that kept you away from each other, and now both hands are on your hips as she glances down at you with her usual crystal-clear blue eyes gone several tones down to navy. You gulp nervously, your arms on your sides as you stand awkwardly.

“What exactly are you suggesting?”

“Lemme help you.” She answers on the spot, with no hesitance or stuttering. And -shockingly- no hint of it being a joke.

You want to say no for the sake of your friendship more than anything, but your body’s been craving release for months, and if your best friend is willing to help you with such devotion then who are you to reject the thoughtful offer?

“Okay…”

Your answer takes Abby by surprise, but she doesn’t press on it because she doesn’t want you to change your mind, not when she’s getting worked up herself.

“Try to keep it down, though.” She winks a snarky smile at you, and before you can tell her to fuck off, she slips her hand down your pants, cupping your aching core.

“Fuck, you are soaked,” Abby whispers surprised, her voice coming out ragged at the realization, and she begins to move her fingers over your folds, spreading them and feeling the slickness of your previous orgasm.

You wanted to be cocky, but one of your hands goes straight to your mouth to muffle the whimper you almost let escape. You know your friend’s anatomy almost as perfectly as her personal traits and her thick fingers were always secretly acknowledged by you, and now they’re spreading your pussy, teasing you better than you’ve ever done it yourself.

“I didn’t know you were a thong girl,” Abby mutters sultrily, obviously noticing the lack of clothing for your cunt. Her fingers find your clit and she starts tracing slow circles, mostly to see your reaction.

Your eyes are fluttering, and your whimpers come out as hums with your hand blocking your lips. Her touch is gentle but firm, and god is it heavenly. It’s definitely better than your own, and you can’t believe you’re doing this in the bathroom of the gym Abby’s attended for the past years. Still, your hips roll in the direction of where she’s touching you, pathetically writhing under her to feel her calloused fingers even more against your throbbing clit.

“You like that?” Oh her voice…is as sweet as honey right now and it sends a shiver down your spine. You nod your head, too scared of being caught, but Abby -being the jerk she is- yanks your hand off your face, letting it rest on your side and very clearly hinting at you that she wants an answer vocalized.

“Y…Yeah,” You manage to gasp under your breath, your head hitting the door when her fingertips rub a little faster, right in that magnificent spot with the right amount of pressure to turn your legs into jelly.

Abby’s having the time of her life. You look angelically sexy, as if you were trying to seduce her with those red lips of yours; parted open and inviting hers to get a taste. She can’t, though, and she won’t…for now. She wants to see every twitch of your brows, every flutter of your lashes when you blink repeatedly, and every bead of sweat that rolls down your forehead and causes your flushed cheeks to glow under the dim light of the bathroom.

“Abs…” It kills her to hear that beloved nickname of hers coming out of your lips in a needy gasp. She purses her full lips, pitying the situation because she wishes you could just whimper her name out loud. Later…she thinks to herself.

Abby calls out your name as well, matching your discreet and low tone, “...yeah? Feels good?”

You nod again, not risking a moan coming out. Your chest heaves, feeling tight because you can barely breathe. It’s almost like a fever dream…or a wet one, in this case. The blood is pumping hot and fast, adrenaline rushing all over you as she sends you to the fucking moon in steady circles. A loud gulp jumps on the walls of the stall, your best attempt at trying to keep quiet.

You feel that familiar pressure in your belly, but Abby whispers your name again. Her eyes are darker, with a loose strand of her blonde hair falling over her face, and she leans down. “I really wanna finger you, ‘s that alright?” She almost begs you, her pretty brows arching in eagerness for what your answer will be.

Your heart’s about to leap out of your chest at this point, feeling like you’re close to suffocating, but you lick your puffy lips and whisper a very needy ‘yes’. And Abby does not waste a single second before guiding one of your legs around her hips and immediately lowering her two digits to your entrance, spreading your arousal so her fingers won’t come in dry. You close your eyes at the weird sensation, but your hips jerk in her direction more aggressively than before.

“So wet for me…I wish I could taste that sweet pussy,” Abby hoarsely mutters in your ear, and before you can react, her middle and ring finger slip inside you oh so smoothly, stretching you open with her thick and long digits.

“Fuck…!” You hiss agitatedly, unconsciously clenching around her from how overwhelming everything is at this point. Abby slips them out and thrusts them until her knuckles become an obstacle, groaning under her breath as well, which only makes it harder for you to keep quiet. Why were you doing this again? Whatever the fuck was the reason, you wish she would’ve brought it up long before today.

Heat’s consuming your body, colored in a passionate red from your cheeks to your chest, probably from holding your breath, or the force Abby’s fingering you with. Either way, it’s all stimulating you in a way you know you shouldn’t be enjoying. Your heavy sighs are getting progressively louder, but the loud beating of your heart in your ears silences them.

Abby’s fingers thrust forcefully, almost abusing your soaking cunt, and squelching sounds filter out, causing the blonde to groan once again in your ear. Seemingly, the pornographic sound of her fingers pumping in and out only encourages her to seek deeper, finding a spongy spot at the very top when she curls both fingers expertly.

“There!” A normal whimper escapes, and as if to punish you, the door of the ladies’ room opens with two voices following as they chat about gains and what to have for lunch in terms of protein goals. Eyes wide as plates, you look at Abby, silently asking her what to do, unsure if it scares you more to keep going or stop.

Abby has her priority clear; you. So the solution is to cover your mouth with her hand and angle her fingers higher and deeper inside you, hitting the spongy wall repeatedly with the two girls chatting in the background, making enough noise to quiet the squelching of her fingering. Abby cages you between her body and the door, and her groans soon become growls, like a hungry animal salivating over its prey.

Tears brimmed in your wide eyes, beginning to tear up as you breathed raggedly through your nose and winced against Abby’s hand. You should’ve stopped, but the adrenaline rush of possibly -hopefully not- getting caught only caused your muscles to clench tighter, and the pooling in the pit of your stomach to swoop like a crashing wave. You’re close, so fucking close that you’re seeing stars this time. Abby’s eyes even shine before your eyes roll back and your body spasms like you’re being electrocuted. Creaming and cumming all over Abby’s fingers and in your yoga pants for the second time today. A loud ringing in your ears almost concerns you and makes you think you passed out, but it only lasts a minute or two before opening your eyes again and seeing your blonde friend looking at you like she just saw a UFO or something.

She keeps her fingers inside until the two girls leave the bathroom, and you can’t say it isn’t awfully awkward to feel the emptiness when she pulls them out and retrieves her hand from your lips as well, letting you pant loudly while you ride out the thunderous orgasm.

Your eyes meet, and Abby’s cheeks seem to get pink, which would’ve been funny in any other situation. “You, uh, you good?”

It’s so awkward that it makes your stomach cringe uncomfortably. “Yeah, just…recovering.”

Abby nods, letting you know that she understands, but you can tell she’s also embarrassed, probably regretting talking to you the way she did…publicly.

“Are we still watching Wicked?” You ask out of the blue, trying to lighten up the mood, and when Abby snorts everything returns to normal.

“Not only are we watching it, you’re getting eaten out afterward,” She taunts you sweetly, licking her dripping fingers clean.

#abby tlou #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby smut #abby anderson x you #abby the last of us #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson smut #abby anderson tlou2 #abby anderson x y/n

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girlatmirror · 21 days ago

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couple’s getaway | jjk

you and jungkook spend the weekend before christmas with taehyung and his girlfriend at his cabin in the mountains, and you start it off with a bet.

rich! jungkook x reader

warnings: anal (minors you know what to do), kookie is rich asf, pda, tae and sasha are v cute, yn showing a hint of her crazy side, jk’s in loooove, christmas, mentions of marriage, pretty short imo, idk what else.

an extension to bend my rules 🫶🏼

It was the week before Christmas, and Taehyung had the amazing idea to invite you and Jungkook to his and Sasha’s now-yearly Christmas weekend getaway to his parents’ cabin in the mountains—a way to celebrate Christmas together while still being able to see family on actual Christmas Day.

Of course, you immediately agreed.

Your relationship with Jungkook was still new—almost two months—and it took the entire student body by surprise; finally, Jungkook could proudly say he proved everybody wrong.

The drive to the cabin was a nice bonding experience with the other couple—Taehyung driving, Jungkook sitting in the passenger seat, and you and Sasha in the back, already giddy about the two-day trip.

You very much loved the view of Jungkook’s broad shoulders, keeping your hands on them at all times.

“Sooo, what did you get Jungkook?” Sasha asked in a whisper tone, curiously.

You giggled, remembering the stupid thoughts that went into getting him a present. Your relationship with Jungkook wasn’t transactional at all; he paid for everything, bought you everything you ever wanted, and didn’t expect a thing in return. It was hard to think of a gift to give your rich boyfriend, who could snap his fingers and get whatever it was he wanted.

“I got him a massage gun for after his workouts and a card he can use whenever he wants anything, like a blowie or a home-cooked meal, and I’m not allowed to object to anything,” you explained in an equally quiet voice, excited to reveal your present. “Oh, and I also put in my used panties.”

There was no such thing as TMI in your friendship with Sasha—you knew everything about each other, down to the smallest details.

Sasha giggled mischievously in response. “Oh my god, Yn, that’s niiice. I got Tae a new camera; you know how much he loves photography.”

You let out a loud “awww,” which made Jungkook turn his head to you. The heated argument between Taehyung and Jungkook about who was the greatest NBA player of all time suddenly died down.

“What are you girls whispering about?” he smirked at you, which you reciprocated.

“Nothing, just how excited we are for the weekend,” you leaned in playfully, giving him a chance to capture your lips with his own.

The kiss quickly deepened as Jungkook turned his body entirely to you, both of you moaning softly into the kiss.

“You guys realize we’re here too, right?” Taehyung asked with a chuckle.

You ended the kiss slowly to lean into your seat again, only to be met with a smirking Sasha playfully pushing your leg with her hands.

“It’s alright, Tae; they’re still in that stage of the relationship,” she held onto his shoulders as she talked. “You remember how we were.”

“Were?” Jungkook asked, dumbfounded. “You guys are way worse than us!”

Taehyung and Sasha gasped dramatically in unison as if rehearsed. “Okay, bet. We’re gonna keep score of every PDA action between you and Yn and between Tae and me, and the couple that has the most loses. The losers have to clean the cabin before we leave.”

Taehyung, responsibly focused on driving, let out an agreeing sound to show Sasha he liked her idea.

“Deal!” Jungkook immediately replied, to which you giggled.

Finally arriving at the cabin, it was already 7. You all decided to only watch a movie tonight and start the real activities tomorrow.

Jungkook and Taehyung carried all the bags inside, and you took in the surroundings of the cabin; it was beyond beautiful. It was very secluded, no neighbors—only nature around.

“The bedrooms are upstairs; there are only two bathrooms—one downstairs and one upstairs,” Taehyung revealed, leading all of you into the house. “We’re gonna let the guests choose what bedroom they’d like to stay in, right, baby?”

Sasha nodded and smiled at the two of you.

“How very generous of you,” you thanked them as Jungkook took your hand, guiding you upstairs, your bags in the other.

You explored the upstairs rooms and decided to stay in the one that had the best view of the mountains—something you’d like to wake up to every day. The bed was big and comfortable, and the closet was, thankfully, big enough for the unnecessarily huge amount of clothes you brought with you.

“This is just wonderful,” you expressed to Jungkook, who immediately unpacked and undressed while you picked out the pajamas you were going to wear.

Jungkook opted for grey sweatpants and a white wifebeater (yummy), and you chose a baby blue satin pant set that you recently purchased while on a shopping spree with Jungkook. It did wonders for your figure.

“I’m glad you like it here,” he smiled lovingly. “Just want you to enjoy yourself this weekend—no college stress or nothing, okay?”

His strong arms engulfed you in a strong embrace; you immediately melted into him.

“Okay,” you quickly kissed his neck, your arms still firmly holding onto his bigger ones. “But we have to beat them at the PDA game. If you even think about touching me in front of them, I will break your fingers, got it?”

“Hey!” Jungkook called out while you exited the room, following behind you. “What if you can’t keep your hands off me? That’s also a possibility!”

“Pfff,” you mocked, walking down the stairs. “Likely story.”

Downstairs, you were met with the smell of warm apple cider. The warmth of the house in contrast to the freezing cold weather outside solidified the Christmas experience.

“We should watch Love Actually!” Sasha enthusiastically suggested.

“Oh my god, yes!” you immediately agreed with her, reciprocating the enthusiasm.

The two men looked at each other with unimpressed glances, both knowing the girls were going to end up getting what they wanted anyway, so there was no need to protest.

“Why do you look like that?” you challenged Jungkook when you noticed the exchanged glances. “You love a good rom-com; we always watch rom-coms when I come over!”

“Yeah, but it’s not like we’re actually watching them,” Jungkook implied with a sly smile, slowly groping your waist and kissing you.

Taehyung and Sasha watched the scene with amusement.

“Aaand,” Sasha suddenly moved to the fridge with a pen in her hand, where she had hung a piece of paper that said “Tae&Sasha vs. JK&YN.” “That goes on the list.”

You feigned anger at Jungkook, scolding him. “What did I just tell you about touching me?”

“Sorry, baby; you’re just so grabbable,” he cooed.

You all sat down on the spacious couch facing the TV as Taehyung put on Love Actually.

“Not a real word,” you grumpily replied.

“It is now.”

After the movie was finished, Taehyung had the idea to open presents, so everybody went and got their presents.

You got a present for Jungkook and one for Sasha; Sasha got one for you and one for Taehyung; Taehyung got one for Sasha and one for Jungkook; and Jungkook got one for Taehyung and one for you.

“Okay, during gift exchanges, we are allowed to kiss as much as we want without it getting put on the list, alright?” Sasha put out the rule, which everybody agreed with.

“Okay,” Taehyung took a sip of his wine. “Who wants to start?”

“Ladies first,” you replied, eating popcorn. “I think Sasha and I should give each other our presents first.”

“I’ll go first,” Sasha couldn’t contain her excitement as she handed you the stylish pink gift bag.

You took it with a cute “thank youuu” and started unwrapping the gifts; there were three wrapped gifts of different sizes. You decided to open the smallest one first and go from there.

All three of them watched with curiosity as you carefully unwrapped it, revealing a Fenty Beauty contour stick. “Oh my god! I was just about to buy that for myself, S; thank you so much.”

“I know! You ran out of yours,” she grinned like a baby, wiggling with joy. “Go on, go on.”

The second gift was a gua sha, something you had mentioned you wanted to buy before but never did. You felt absolutely loved, knowing you had a friend who remembered those things about you.

The big present was a Vogue journal, which you took the time to admire; it was the most beautiful thing ever. “Oh my god, Sasha! I love you; come here.”

You hugged for a while, really expressing your gratitude.

“Is that going on the list?” Tae asked humorously when you finally pulled away from the hug.

“Okay, now it’s time for your present,” you pulled out the box of presents.

Sasha was all about clothes and fashion, so it was always easy to buy her presents. You got her sunglasses, a chic Ralph Lauren sweater, a personalized gold necklace that said “Sasha Fierce,” and a scented candle. She flipped out and went in for another hug.

“I have the best best friend ever!” she yelled out. “Now, Jungkook and Yn, you give each other your gifts. I’m very curious.”

Jungkook clapped his hands together as if he were waiting for this very moment a long time, and you sheepishly handed your present to him.

With each gift he opened, his smirk grew bigger in appreciation. He held the massage gun with a grin. “We can use that for other stuff too, you know?”

You giggled like a schoolgirl in love, forgetting that your other friends were there for a moment, cuddling up to his side comfortably. “Read the card.”

“Jungkook’s wish card,” he started reading. “Yn Ln has to do whatever Jungkook Jeon wishes as soon as he pulls out this card; she is not allowed to object. Valid until next Christmas. It’s even laminated; wow.”

Everybody started laughing, admiring your creativity. Jungkook kissed you passionately with a “thank you, my baby; you know me so well,” whispered in your ear, followed by a “I’ll put those panties to good use,” that sent shivers down your spine as you leaned in for another kiss.

“Okay, Yn, now you open Jungkook’s gift!” Sasha ordered, so you did.

Jungkook’s present was a huge box that you carefully put in your lap and opened. In it lay a big diamond-encrusted Birkin bag.

You and Sasha gasped in disbelief, lost for words.

“Hope you like it, baby,” Jungkook stated with a brush on your arm when you sat in silence for a few seconds.

“I love it!” you shouted, jumping on him and kissing him all over his face and simultaneously banging at his chest with your small hands. “How could you do this?! I hate you so much!”

Taehyung was beyond confused, not knowing what the fuss was about but still able to appreciate the beauty of the bag.

Jungkook just laughed at your changing moods that he got used to by now and kissed you back, his hands on your waist. “Just wanna make you happy.”

After the chaos that Jungkook’s present brought died down a little, Taehyung and Sasha exchanged their gifts; for Sasha, a Dyson Airwrap that she went crazy for, and for Taehyung, a vintage camera he adored.

The rest of the evening was filled with storytelling, snacks, and stolen kisses until you all decided to go upstairs and call it a night.

“I can’t believe you got me a Birkin bag,” you whispered into his chest as you just stood in the middle of the bedroom, hugging.

You were both very physical people; it was something that Jungkook made you realize about yourself.

“What did you think I was gonna get you?” he asked, amusement lacing his voice as he rocked you back and forth.

You thought about it for a moment and quickly came to the conclusion that it wasn’t at all out of character for Jungkook to get you an extravagant gift. “Okay, it actually totally makes sense that you got me a Birkin bag. But it’s not even my birthday; it’s Jesus’ birthday.”

Jungkook laughed heartily and kissed the top of your head. “I’ll get him one next year. Now, let’s go; I wanna take a shower.”

After taking everything you need with you, you entered the bathroom together and locked the door behind you before you both started undressing.

Jungkook’s eyes roamed over your bare body hungrily as you entered the shower just behind him and let your hair down carefully.

“I haven’t washed my hair in three days; it’s time to do that now,” you stated, grabbing the shampoo bottle, but before you could open it, Jungkook grabbed you by the hips and leaned in to kiss you.

The warm water streamed down your bodies as you deepened the kiss, and his wandering hands were now on your ass. You looked up and down his sculpted body, getting aroused by the sight of him all hard and muscular.

“Remember the first time I had you in the shower?” he breathed against your full lips, kneading your ass. You simply nodded. “Let’s recreate that.”

You would have lied if you had said that your pussy wasn’t wet since the morning and that you hadn’t been waiting desperately to have sex with him the entire day, but you had to wash your hair now. “Jungkook, I gotta wash my hair; sorry.”

“Give me that,” he nodded to the shampoo bottle, which you handed to him. “Now, turn around.”

Once you turned around, he moved your hair to the side to reveal your entire back and grabbed you by the hips. He fisted his huge dick before slowly entering your ass. He squeezed some shampoo into his hand and started massaging your hair with it.

You gasped, “Jungkook!” before leaning into him closer until your ass hit his hips. He first started thrusting slowly, letting out low grunts that sent shivers down your spine before his thrusts began to hasten.

You arched your back, and your moans became louder; the clapping of his hips against your ass sounded like fireworks. You were sure if there were any neighbors, they would’ve heard you.

“You like that, huh?” Jungkook growled, head tilted back in pure pleasure. “You like when I’m fucking this fat ass, yeah? This ass was made for me to drill.”

“Yes, I love it, Kookie,” your desperation was palpable. “Please, don’t stop; don’t ever stop.”

His hands massaged your hair again, as if to not abandon it, before he suddenly lifted you up with ease and started fucking into you like you were a toy. He was hitting all the spots, your chest bouncing up and down, and your combined moans had never been louder.

“You feel so fucking good,” Jungkook grunted, his hands finding the opportunity to spank you harshly. “Just a little more, baby. I’m 'bout to cum; fuck, I’m 'bout to cum.”

Your own orgasm was nearing too, but you were too lost in your pleasure to say anything. A few thrusts later, you felt a warm flood of cum enter your ass and a breathless Jungkook kissing your neck.

You collapsed against Jungkook, whose strong hands held you upright. “You exhausted, baby?”

You nodded, with a pout on your lips. “Can’t feel my legs right now.”

Jungkook chuckled, cleaning your body with your coconut body wash. “It’s okay, baby; I’ll clean us up, and then we’ll go to bed.”

The next morning was surprisingly sunny, yet still freezing. You went downstairs to find everybody already awake; you blamed the sex you had last night for the fact that you woke up so late.

“Morning, princess,” Jungkook called out with a big grin. “You sleep well?”

Sasha chimed in, sarcastically, “Yeah, Yn, did you sleep well?”

You simply nodded and said, “Yeah, what about you guys?” before going up to the fridge to get something to drink when you saw something.

There was another line added to yours and Jungkook’s side of the sheet.

“Hey, why is there another strike on here?” you asked in disbelief. “The only PDA that happened was yesterday before opening presents!”

Sasha and you were truly the only ones invested in this competition; the guys just looked at each other in amusement, finding their girlfriends absolutely adorable.

“Are you serious?” Sasha snapped. “That show you two put on last night was very much PDA; we heard everything! Right, baby?”

Taehyung vigorously nodded his head as if not to give her a reason to be mad.

“Well, I’m sorry, but that’s not PDA if you didn’t see anything!” you argued. “It’s called a display of affection for a reason!”

“You disrupted our sleep! It deserves to be on here,” she declared with conviction.

“I’ll tell you where you deserve to be—” you started until Jungkook cut you off.

“It’s okay, baby; we’ll get them back soon enough,” he assured you with a cute smile. “Just eat breakfast before you say things you might regret.”

You simply abided by his wishes and sat down next to them at the kitchen table and started eating.

After spending two hours hiking and exploring the little town, you and Sasha were exhausted, but the guys weren’t; they actually decided to go to the gym, which was about a 20-minute drive from the cabin.

While they were at the gym, you and Sasha cozied up on the living room couch, her legs over yours.

“This is so much fun,” Sasha dreamily said. “We are best friends dating best friends; I love that for us.”

“Hmmm,” you agreed. “I feel like I can’t imagine it any other way, you know? Like Jungkook and I have been dating for two months—not even—and I already can’t imagine a life where I’m not with him.”

Sasha smiled softly. “And to think this is the guy that you rejected for two years…”

“I know! This is what’s kind of scaring me,” you started ranting. “Jungkook has been into me this whole time, and now, now he has me. I’m scared that there was a version of me inside his head that I can’t live up to, you know?”

Taking a sip from her orange juice, Sasha pulled a confused face. “I think that’s you overthinking because why would that even be the case? He has you now, but the effort he puts into making you happy didn’t go away; actually, on the contrary, he’s putting in more effort because the guy loves you, Yn.”

Your heart warmed at the mere thought of Jungkook, a man who made every other man look less than.

“Yeah, you’re right,” you stated. “You know how I get when something is so good that it doesn’t feel real; I’m just really paranoid. It doesn’t matter; tell me what’s up with you and Mr. Taehyung.”

Sasha suddenly started to smile like a child in a candy store. “He’s so amazing, Yn! But I gotta tell you something…”

Your eyes widened in curiosity. “What? What is it?”

She took a deep breath before saying, “Okay, so… you know how Tae and Jungkook are graduating this year and Tae already got an offer to work again at this firm after? Well, he’s been hinting at… marriage a lot lately, and I… I found a ring while I was sleeping over at his place last week.”

You jumped up with your hand over your mouth. “SHUT UP! This is sooo exciting; oh my god, this is just… this is so amazing!”

“Yeah,” she formed a small smile. “But I don’t know… I feel like I don’t know if I’m ready for marriage yet; it’s so huge.”

You put her head on your chest and soothingly ran your hand over her shoulder. “Sasha, you think about this as much as you need, but if you want to hear my opinion on it, I think if he does propose, you should at least consider it. I mean, you don’t have to get married right away! You can take your time; it will be exactly like now, but you’ll just have a ring on your finger.”

Sasha started to grin like an idiot. “I mean, it is a very impressive ring; I can’t deny that.”

“Oooh, well don’t leave me hanging; I want the deets!”

Meanwhile, the guys finished their gym session and made their way to the nearest store to get everything you needed for the Christmas dinner you were going to cook.

Jungkook held the list in his hand, smiling down at it as his eyes scanned over your handwriting, which he adored.

“What are you smiling about?” Taehyung inquired.

“Nothing, just Yn’s pretty handwriting,” Jungkook shook his head and smiled cutely.

Taehyung chuckled. “Finally got your girl, huh?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook shined with pride. “Finally.”

Suddenly, in the middle of the snacks aisle, Taehyung stopped, holding a bag of chips.

“I need to tell you something, man,” Taehyung began, as if deep in thought, to which Jungkook simply nodded at him. “So, I’ve been bringing up the idea of… marriage a lot with Sasha, but she’s kinda—how do I say this—she gets dismissive whenever I mention it, changing the topic, looking kinda uncomfortable, and I’m scared that when I propose, she won’t say yes.”

Jungkook searched for the right words to say, wanting to comfort his friend. “Well, I think you should communicate it with her. When girls do that, it doesn’t necessarily mean they aren’t into you; they just overthink everything, see every possible outcome first, you know? And hey, just take me as an example; I hopelessly chased Yn for two years; now she’s my girlfriend. The important thing is you don’t give up.”

“I know she loves me, but she acts so weird whenever I say anything—even the most subtle thing about getting married—and you know I’m really good at being subtle!” Taehyung’s frustration was evident. “I already got the ring; I’m just waiting for the right moment, just waiting for her to give me the feeling that she wants this.”

“Maybe this subtlety is what isn’t working,” Jungkook suggested. “Sometimes, you just need to be honest, direct; say what’s on your mind.”

Taehyung looked at him, dumbfounded. “Ey, just ‘cause there isn’t a subtle bone in your body doesn’t mean everybody’s like that, okay?!”

Jungkook chuckled, recognizing the conflict within his best friend. “Alright, you do you, but if it were me, I’d listen to the master.”

“The master of what exactly? Making a fool of himself?” Taehyung jested. “You waited two years for that girl to say yes to a date; man, you’re no master of anything.”

“Ey, man, don’t piss me off!”

After lazily sitting on the couch, you both decided to bake Christmas cookies to kill some time until the guys came back.

Following the sound of Taehyung’s car pull up in the driveway, Jungkook entered the house with two bags filled with groceries and snacks, Taehyung following behind him with equally filled bags.

“Hey, you two!” you welcomed them. “How was the gym?”

“It was good, baby. We went to the store, got you everything you wanted,” Jungkook stepped into the kitchen, where you and Sasha just finished baking the cookies, and was about to kiss your lips, but you threateningly shook your head, the competition still on your mind.

To make up for the lost kiss, though, you grabbed a cookie and held it up to his mouth.

“A cookie for my Kookie,” you leaned towards him over the kitchen counter, accentuating your breasts, feeding him the cookie playfully.

His knowing smirk spoke volumes as he ate the cookie, already mentally preparing for the things he was going to do to you once you’re in your room.

Taehyung brought up the last bag of groceries and greeted his girlfriend with a big smile and an even bigger kiss, which she immediately reciprocated passionately.

“Ha-ha!!” you yelled, gloating. “Finally, I can put you down on the list!”

You danced happily, without noticing Jungkook watching you with heart eyes.

After cleaning the counter and organizing the groceries, you got started on your huge Christmas meal: a roast turkey with stuffing, mashed potatoes, yams, roasted vegetables, and cornbread.

After four hours of you slaving away in the kitchen and all three of them asking if you wanted help— to which you always replied “No! I hate it when I’m cooking and someone’s in my space!”—you finished your feast, and Taehyung went on to prepare the pumpkin pie for dessert.

After stuffing yourself with food and brushing your teeth, everybody went to their respective bedrooms.

You opted for stretchy, tight shorts and Jungkook’s sweater (that you stole), and Jungkook was in his boxers. Comfortable in each other’s arms, you two laid on the spacious bed in serene silence.

Deciding to break the silence, you leaned into him and asked, “How was it with Taehyung today?”

Jungkook sighed softly, touching your head with his lips gently and replied, “It was nice; he’s got a lot on his mind though.”

Curiosity took over you for a second, and your mind raced with the possibility of it being the same thing Sasha talked to you about. “What about?”

His hands were now rubbing your back under the thick covers, adding warmth to your skin.

“I feel like there’d be a conflict of interest if I told you,” he admitted hesitantly. “It’s about Sasha.”

Your heartbeat quickened for a second until you decided to play a game. “I think I know what it’s about…”

“Yeah?” Jungkook smirked at you, challenging. “What is it about?”

“You go first,” you provoked, a finger poking his chest. “Unless you don’t wanna have sex for a week.”

“Okay, so,” he gave in immediately, sitting up straight, symbolizing his readiness to have a conversation about your friends. “Taehyung wants to propose to Sasha, but he thinks she doesn’t wanna marry him.”

“Yeaaah,” you said, unimpressed. “She already knows all of that.”

Jungkook expressed his shock, raising his eyebrows in a questioning manner, which he quickly changed back to normal. “No, you don’t understand; he even bought her a ring.”

You nodded, still unimpressed. “And he’s apparently really bad at hiding it.”

“No!” Jungkook exclaimed in disbelief. “Haha, bastard thinks he’s so subtle too…”

After his short gloating session, he suddenly turned to you face to face, curiosity written all over his face. “So?? What does she think? Is she into the idea, or completely against it, or what?”

“It’s complicated,” you explained. “She loves him, but she has so much to think about. On one hand, she feels like she’s not ready for such a commitment, and on the other, she wants nothing more than to spend her life with him.”

“Oof… well that’s better than what Tae thinks; he’s kinda convinced she doesn’t want it at all,” Jungkook let out a relieved sigh. “I mean, he’s not gonna propose tomorrow; he’s just thinking more like… next couple of months, you know?”

“Yeah, I told Sasha that she should take it into consideration; I mean, they have been together for almost two years now,” you observed, your head now on his chest. “And he has a stable future ahead of him. I understand why he wants to propose now; doesn’t mean they have to get married immediately.”

Your conversation made Jungkook ponder what your reaction would be if you found an engagement ring at his place; if you would panic, if you would cry tears of joy or sadness. He hoped you knew all the comments and “jokes” he made about making you his wife weren’t jokes.

“You’re right,” he agreed with you in a soft tone. “But promise me something.”

“What?” you asked.

“If there was ever a similar problem in our life, the only people we talk about it with is us,” he asserted. “I don’t ever wanna make you feel you can’t come to me and tell me everything, okay?”

“I promise,” was your answer.

On the last day of that weekend getaway, all of you—Jungkook—thought it was a nice idea to go paragliding as an exciting farewell to the mountains. Despite you thinking you were going to die, you ended up agreeing that it was a great experience to make.

Eventually, you had to say goodbye to the little cabin that would forever hold a special place in your heart.

The departure would’ve been much more emotional if it weren’t for Taehyung’s and Sasha’s triumphant expressions as they watched you and Jungkook clean and scrub the entire house while they sat comfortably on the couch, making out.

thank you sm for the support on my first post on here 🥹 if you have any requests pls pls send them to me!! also i’m sorry, i don’t really know what a tag list is. tell me your opinion on this one!! thanks ❄️

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cosmicalily · 16 days ago

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"santa baby" - a jisung oneshot by @cosmicalily

author's note: san-ta, ba-by !! (i'm such a lauver and have such bad baby fever rn, that's all the context you get!)

warnings: pregnancy, mentions of sickness

“I can’t believe you’re still sick on Christmas Eve,” Jisung pouted, gently running a hand through your hair. He stroked your warm cheek, eyes sad, and you offered him a weak smile.

“I’m sorry Ji, I know we had so many plans,” you sighed, snuggling into him. “Don’t let me stop you. You should still go ice skating with the boys; I’m happy to stay at home, I promise.”

“I don’t wanna,” he whined, sliding down the headboard and further under the covers. Anyone else would keep their distance from someone who’d been nauseous for the past week, but you being under the weather only made Jisung clingier. He wanted to take care of you and stay by your side, making sure you were okay every single second of the day, even when you assured him you just needed a glass of water and a good nap.

Despite your slightly more fragile state, the past few weeks in preparation for Christmas had been oh so cosy and domestic, filled with shopping for gifts (although the two of you ended up with more for each other than your friends and family), comfort food at home in front of the tv, watching Elf approximately 12 times (it was Jisung’s ride-or-die Christmas movie, there was no talking him out of it). Something about the colder season meant the two of you were even more inseparable than usual, always needing an arm or a leg thrust over the other to share a little body heat. Although, right now, with Jisung’s face nestled into your neck and his arms around your waist, you were scorching.

“Baby, I’m really hot right now,” you groaned, trying to push him away. Being the clingy menace he was, he simply held you closer, and you sighed.

“Ji, if you don’t let go, I’m probably gonna throw up,” you said, opting for a more direct approach. That got his brain working, knocking him out of his loved-up mind fog. He snapped up, sitting up straight and looking at you intently, brows furrowed with concern.

“Actually?” he asked worriedly.

“Maybe,” you replied, feeling a little bad for scaring him. But you were feeling nauseous, and it had only been getting worse the past few days. You hoped that by tomorrow you’d feel a little better.

Even if it wasn’t physically, you hoped that Jisung’s excitement, something you anticipated in response to the surprise you had for him, would perk you up.

“I’m gonna get you some chamomile,” he declared, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead and scrambling out of the bedroom, leaving you feeling a little dazed. You felt warm, probably from the slight fever, but also because of him.

He was gonna be the best dad.

“I have something for you,” you said suddenly, grabbing the remote and pressing pause on the movie you hadn’t really been paying attention to. The two of you were sprawled on the sofa, Jisung’s head in your lap as you played with his hair. The room was dim and warm, fairy lights sparkling, and it felt magical, yet familiar.

He raised his head curiously. “But it’s not Christmas morning yet,” he replied, looking confused, and you laughed at him.

“I know. It’s not a proper present; it’s more the promise of one,” you explained vaguely, leaning over the armrest of the sofa and handing him a small box.

Jisung raised an eyebrow, then undid the plaid ribbon, opening the box and retrieving a note. “Unfortunately, these things tend to take a while to arrive, but I promise you’ll have it by August! Love you, sweet boy.” Jisung read aloud, then gave you a strange look, thinking it was some weird prank and expecting you to giggle. However, to his surprise, your eyes were a little glassy, and you reached to hold his hand.

Giving it a gentle squeeze as he unfolded the tissue paper one handed, he found a small stick buried at the bottom. A white plastic one.

With two lines on it.

“Oh my god,” Jisung breathed, holding it closer and then dropping it in shock. “Oh my god, is this real?”

“Why do you think I’ve been feeling so crap the past few days?” you giggled in response, but tears were now rolling down your cheeks. “I wanted to tell you earlier, but I thought it would make the perfect surprise.”

“Oh my god,” Jisung repeated, for once lost for words. He suddenly reached forward, cupping your cheeks with his hands and pressing your foreheads together. “I can’t believe it. I’m so happy, baby, you don’t even know. I’ve been wanting this for so long for us.” Then he paused, scrunching up his nose and dropping the test. "Ew. I can't believe I just touched a stick that you peed on."

“Shut up, that's the only way to find out, dumbass. And I know you have, you’re not subtle,” you chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “I’m so glad I get to do this with you, Ji. You’re going to be the best dad.”

He beamed, eyes shiny, then yanked up your tank top. You squealed in shock, but was placated when he pressed a soft kiss to your belly, looking up at you wistfully.

“Are you gonna call the boys and tell them your news?” you asked, running a hand through his hair as he rested his cheek against your stomach.

“Later,” he said, closing his eyes. “Just wanna be with you right now. And our baby.”

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joeyfranchise · 19 days ago

Text

𝟙𝟚 𝕕𝕒𝕪𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕗𝕚𝕔-𝕞𝕒𝕤: 𝕕𝕒𝕪 𝕥𝕨𝕠

cindy lou who…

ex!joe x fem!reader

summary: the boy that you love is with someone new…

warnings: none, it’s just sad. sfw, but minors please do not interact with my page.

word count: 1.2k.

note: based on the song cindy lou who by sabrina carpenter. i also drew inspo from harry styles’ cover of girl crush, and heather by conan gray.

it was christmas eve again, and you were all alone in your apartment, deciding against traveling to be with your family.

with a glass of wine in hand and your coziest robe on, you sat on the couch ready to get comfortable and watch a christmas movie. for most of the day you moped around, sad you’d be spending christmas alone… but it was up to you to change that.

you scrolled through the endless amount of movies before settling on a favorite, love actually.

you sipped at your wine as the movie began to play, trying to immerse yourself in it. you thought about getting up and making a snack, but your phone buzzed, and that took all your attention. it was a text from your sister, nothing that really required your attention, but you opened it nonetheless.

attached was a picture of herself and her boyfriend in front of a gigantic beautifully lit christmas tree. she was smiling from ear to ear, and her boyfriend was looking at her so sweetly. the message along with it read “we miss you! wish you were home!”

you love reacted the message and responded back with a simple “miss you!” but all it really did was remind you how lonely you were. you exited out of your messages and turned your attention back to the movie briefly before opening up instagram, ready to doomscroll. movies could never really keep your attention, but you needed the background noise.

when you looked back at your phone screen, the breath was almost knocked from your lungs. the first post was from your ex… you weren’t sure why you still followed him.

in the photo, joe was standing in a grandeur hallway, poised in front of a beautiful archway that was decorated with beautiful lights and red and green holly. next to him was a beautiful girl, the one who you could only assume replaced you.

she had long, silky, perfectly curled hair. her hand was on his chest, her beautifully manicured nails painted with tiny candy cane designs. her makeup was gorgeous as she smiled up at joe, the wing of her eyeliner was perfect, her lips the most beautiful glossy red you’ve ever seen.

he looked so happy as he stared into the camera, and it broke your heart for a moment knowing that you weren’t the one creating that happiness. you swiped to the next photo. it hurt even worse than the first.

in this photo, joe’s hand was pressed to the small of her back and he was pulling her into him. he smiled down at her, and you could almost feel the love and adoration beaming from his eyes onto her.

you knew how it felt. he used to look at you that way.

you wondered how they met, what she did to pull him in. you wondered what it took for her to break down that hard exterior he had, how she was able to melt him down, how she got him to smile like this... to post photos like this. you felt physically sick looking at it.

you swiped to the last photo. she stood there between joe and robin, with joe’s dad on his other side. they all looked so happy, smiling in the christmas lights. you could feel the bile rising in your throat.

there he was, the man you loved, smiling so happy and in love with someone else. you wanted to hate her, but how could you? sure, she was doing things you used to do, but it seemed like she brought the light back to joe. you hadn’t seen him that happy in a while, especially not the last few months of your relationship.

you reminisced on christmases you’d spent with him, how it used to be you taking photos with his parents. how it was you who woke up with him in his old bed, underneath his star wars themed sheets and bedspread.

how you’d help his mom cook breakfast, you’d spend time with his brothers’ families, you’d open gifts with him. you giggled at how you’d sneak upstairs late after everyone was asleep to have a christmas treat, trying not to laugh too loud and wake everyone up.

you tried not to throw up as you imagined them kissing under the mistletoe that’d be hung above the hearth, just like you used to. you thought about how beautiful a ring would look on her finger, about how elated joe would be to give it to her.

you remembered everything you felt for him, when he won the natty, the heisman, when he was drafted.. you were there, you were in love, but the fire began to die. joe was becoming more and more unhappy, and you had to let each other go. and now, as you sat lonely, without even your family, here was joe. happy and in love with a beautiful girl, someone who wasn’t you.

you wondered if it was snowing in ohio, you were almost sure of it. would he take her outside and spin her around in the snow, just like he did with you?

it stung, but all you could do was force yourself to be glad for him. he deserved love, you knew that. you wanted that for him, even if it was with someone else. you wondered everything about her. what did she smell like? was her skin soft? what does her voice sound like?

she was everything for joe that you couldn’t be, but that was okay. you had to be okay with it. you noticed joe tagged her in the photo, but you wouldn’t bother scrolling her page, or if it was private, you wouldn’t send her a request. her life with joe was none of your business, even if it hurt.

you didn’t know if it’d be messy, but against your better judgment, you liked joe’s post. you were going to be happy for him, no matter what. you locked your phone, placing it face down on the couch as you stood to go make yourself some popcorn.

once you returned, you focused your attention back to the movie which left you bawling by the end. you finished your wine as well, and you gathered your dishes to take them to the sink before pulling the curtains closed. you stopped for a moment to admire all the lights outside before you had them fully closed.

you picked up your phone as you got ready to head to bed, your heart sinking as you noticed an instagram notification on your lockscreen. when you opened it, your hand instinctively flew to cover your mouth, your legs feeling shaky, almost like jello.

joeyb_9: merry christmas, y/n.

that was all it read, but it nearly ripped your heart from your chest. what made him message you, you weren’t sure. you started to sob, the cries wracking through your body. it took everything in you to respond, but you did, you had to tell him one last thing.

y/n: merry christmas, joe. i’m so happy for you.

and with that you were off to bed, dreaming of joe and his cindy lou who… the girl who wasn’t you.

all photos and dividers used are not mine. credit to original owners.

taglist: @slimshiesty @starsinthesky5 @kykysinlovewithafairytale @burrowdarling @joeyb1989 @loveyatopluto @toterry @unhingedfangirl @superheroprincess22 @burreauxsworld @definitelynotdomanique @samanthamark5 @superstarshitblog @fa1ry03 @wickedfun9 @xbriexx @venic-bxtch @burrowdarling @angels555 @idbe-theman @yelenasbraid @ladyluvduv @joeburrowshaircurl @joeybisbootiful @livinobx @blairsworld22 @jarring-behavior @joeyburrrow

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talesfromawannabewriter · 24 days ago

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Leathery Love

@things-arent-what-they-seem66 here's part one, hope you enjoy

and @lilacwriter07 enjoy your early Christmas present

Lilith: I'm leaving you Lucifer

After twenty years of marriage never did Lucifer ever imagine those words ever being uttered from the love of his life's lips. Especially not on the day of their wedding anniversary.

Lucifer: What?

Was all he could say to Lilith who looked both tired and disappointed with him as she sat at the table with her arms crossed. They were supposed to be eating a meal together, drinking some wine, then watching a movie. They were at home at Lilith's insistence from a few days ago. She said she wanted to spend the evening with just him. No one else was to see what she wished to do.

He just thought she wanted to try something new. Not break his fucking heart in private so no one can see him cry.

Lilith: I said I'm leaving you Lucifer, I want a divorce.

Lucifer felt his heart start to pace as his breathing slowly turned erratic.

Lucifer: But, but, but I, I don't...why Lily

Lilith bristled at the nickname for a moment before answering.

Lilith: Because I no longer wish to be in a relationship where I fell out of love with you years ago. I swore that when Charlie moved out, I would finally bring myself to get out of a place that has only brought me misery.

With that she stood up and headed upstairs. Lucifer was still reeling when about five minutes later she was coming back down with two bags full of her stuff. Her stuff. Lucifer's eyes widened at the sight of them. It meant,

Lucifer: Lilith please, I beg of you don't go! Please! Lilith

He ran to her when she got to the doors. She stared him down as he stood in front of her exit; however, Lucifer could only stare up with tears starting to stream out onto his pale cheeks.

Lucifer: Lilith...please my darling I'm sorry for whatever I did wrong.

Lucifer then proceeded to do something he'd never thought he'd do in his lifetime due to the man's humungous pride and ego.

Beg

He fell on his knees, clasped his hands together, and begged for her to change her mind. Never did Lucifer ever felt so pathetic in his entire existence. He thought that it would get Lilith to at least think about doing something other than divorce. However, the thirty-eight-year-old singer had already made up her mind a long time ago.

Lilith: I'm sorry Lucifer, but I don't think you were ever meant to be mine.

With that she stepped aside, threw open the doors of their large, grand home and walked out. Never to step inside her former home again. All while Lucifer kneeled on the ground in total despair. It was only when he heard a car engine turning on did, he turn around and saw Lilith pull out of the driveway with her purple convertible and proceed to drive away did he close the door behind him to let out the anguish sob that had built up in his throat.

(Two months later)

Lucifer felt like his life was slowly falling apart. Ever since Lilith left, she had been sending him papers and been talking through her lawyer to him. Lilith had been one the most shining aspects of his life. In the entirety of their marriage, he devoted to making her happy. Including to working hard to provide for the both of them. So that way she could work on her music career. He bought her anything she wished for; heck he'd buy her the greatest diamond in all the world to make her happy.

In the end he guessed it just wasn't enough. When she sent him the final paperwork to sign off on their divorce completely shut the once proud, strong man down. Lucifer hadn't been out of the house in weeks and had mostly been taking to moping around the house. Or just laying all day in his bed, not sleeping, just staring up the ceiling, wall, or even occasionally the tv in his room that he put on for white noise. He didn't even go to the office.

Which would have been worse if Lucifer wasn't the boss of his toy company. Even if lately, he's been having his brother/partner Mammon and his assistant Moxxine take care of his work for him. Speaking of family, his brothers, sisters, and even daughter had seen how bad his depression had been and wanted to help him. Especially his daughter Charlie, who went to her Uncle Ozzie and begged for her to find a way to make him feel better. Since him and Ozzie have been the closest out of all seven siblings. Oz had an idea, but he didn't know if it would work

Lucifer: A sex dungeon?!

Lucifer sat across from his brother in his living room while in his robe. Oz noticed he also had deep, dark bags underneath his eyes. His hair looked a bit oily, and he appeared to be growing some hair around his muzzle. However, despite his shaggy appearance his body was rigid, his stark blue eyes wide awake as he took in what his brother just suggested.

Ozzie: Hun, please I know this might seem a lot and too soon after...

Lucifer: I don't care about ugh her. Look Oz even if I wasn't hung up over losing my wife, I don't think it would be right to go to fucking prostitutes!

Ozzie: But that's the thing though I really think these girls or boys can help you, Luci!

Lucifer: How!? How in the hell can they help me!?

Ozzie: By helping you get over Lilith. If you're with one those bad guys down, there soon Lilith will be nothing more than a distant memory. Plus, I distinctly remembering you telling me about this one domniatrix porno you kept watching. You kept telling me how you wish you could be Lilith's naughty boy. Well now you can do that! Just you know not with her.

Lucifer: I told you about that. Since when?

Ozzie: Since that time at that barbeque back in July where you got drunk and confessed to me.

Lucifer must've been hard hammered drunk to have told his brother about that. Since usually Lucifer was extremely private when it came to what happened in his bedroom. The blond man opened his mouth to once again reject his brother's offer but then stopped to think about it. It had been so long since he'd been in the warmth of someone's arms in the bed. Even before Lilith left, she had been distant from him for quite some time.

It actually was the reason for Lucifer looking up on those sites in the first place. He knew no love would be with the person he'd be with; he still wanted to forget about his heartbreak. Even if it was for only one night. Taking a breath, he looked straight at his expecting brother and said,

Lucifer: Alright, I'll go.

#adamsapple #modern au #female adam #leathery love au #angst

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bluebeary-jay · 1 year ago

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Hold me close and hold me fast

Hi, my darling @always-andromeda!! I'm your secret santa from the space sisters server 🥰 I hope you're having a fantastic day and will enjoy what I wrote for you 💕 I tried to mix fluff and angst into your Joel prompt and it was tricker than I thought it'd be but hopefully I did it justice 😌 I wish you all that's best and happy holidays!!

Summary: It's been a long time since Joel was in any relationship and because of that he has absolutely no clue how to react to your affections. It culminates into an angsty conversation which he wanted to avoid at all costs.

Tags: tooth-rotting fluff, fluff and angst, soft and shy Joel, hurt/comfort, established relationship 💕

Word count: 3.3K

A/N: dividers by @saradika, beta read by @reddedmiller ❤️

Twenty years ago, when the apocalypse started and Joel Miller lost his only daughter, he was certain that he’d never feel happy again. Time didn’t heal his wounds – he still thought like that when he was fighting for survival with Tommy, then when he was doing side jobs with Tess in the QZ… It was never going to get better.

But somehow, as he looked up at the massive tree he just helped the others set up in the middle of the square in Jackson, he realized that it could. It did. Now Joel had a home here. He had his brother back, he had Ellie whom he cared for like his own kid and he had a community that welcomed him into Jackson, people who didn’t know about the horrible things he’d done and therefore didn’t hate him.

“Hi, handsome,” he heard from behind his back and turned around to the most beautiful face in the world – the main source of his newfound happiness. You. His girl. “Are you done with work?”

He nodded with a small smile gracing his lips. You were the newest addition to Joel’s life, but the most precious one in his eyes. Unlike everyone else in Jackson (excluding his brother), you knew all about the sins he’s committed. And yet, you still chose him. Every day you continued to choose him, to envelop him with the warmth of your love which Joel wasn’t sure he deserved.

He’d never tell you, though. Not as long as you kept him in your heart.

“Yeah, no, we’re done. M’pretty sure my back will blow if I have to pick up or carry one more damn thing.”

Right at that moment Tommy walked by with another box full of tree ornaments in his arms, and huffed a laugh when he heard his brother complaining.

“Jesus, Joel, you really are gettin’ old.” He put down the heavy box on the snow and sighed, propping his hands on his hips and nodding at you. “You sure you’ll be able to put up with this grump?”

“Positive.” You climbed onto your tip-toes to press a kiss to Joel’s cheek, and he felt his skin growing hot under your lips. He turned his head to hide the embarrassment evident on his face, missing the slight furrow of your brows, but not missing a hearty laugh his brother let out.

“Aww, is the big, scary man gettin’ all shy from a little kiss on the cheek?”

“Get lost, Tommy.”

Tommy chuckled and bent down to pick up the box again. “By the way, you two have any plans for today? We’re makin’ a screening of some Christmas movies for the kids, and after that the adults will head to the bar. You should come.”

“Well, if you want to?” you directed the careful question to Joel, but he shook his head just slightly, causing you to smile. “But we actually have other plans for tonight.”

That was true, and there was no way Joel would trade those precious hours spent in your company for having to sit – or worse, dance – in a loud room full of half-drunk people.

“Sounds like somethin’ I don’t wanna know about.”

“We’re just gonna bake some cookies for Ellie,” Joel murmured when you bumped his arm lightly with a giggle. The irritation at his brother lessened slightly when he heard the sound of your laughter. “But don’t tell ‘er.”

“My lips are sealed.” Tommy winked at Joel, then shifted his eyes to you. “Enjoy your evening, lovebirds.”

“That’s the plan.” You took Joel’s hand in both of yours, beaming up at him with excitement. “You’re ready?”

“Yeah.” He inconspicuously let go of your hands to brush the arm of your jacket lightly, and then nodded in the direction of his house. “C’mon, darlin’.”

He hoped he wasn’t coming off as too harsh as he hid his gloved hands in the pockets, intending to blame it on the cold in case you asked. But instead of saying anything, you just matched his step and slipped your hands around his arm. Joel went rigid when you leaned your head on his shoulder, the side of your body almost hugging his.

Joel loved you like no one before and until he met you, he hadn’t been this happy in years. But there was a problem, a major one, in your relationship that he didn’t at all know how to address.

Because Joel didn’t have any clue how to react to all your touches.

No matter if they were tender or needy, brief or lasting, he always felt out of his depth. It’s been so long since he actually wanted to be intimate with someone that when the chance arose… he was at loss. You were such an affectionate person and he loved that part of you, he cherished all touches and gestures you graced him with – craved them even – but…

He stole a glance at you, wondering if you could feel the stiffness of his body when you were so close, but it seemed that you were none the wiser. He tried to will his muscles to relax, but it didn’t work and he still felt an uncomfortable feeling crawling up his arm.

The problem wasn’t that he didn’t know what he was supposed to do as your partner, but ever since Sarah died, he hadn’t had an opportunity to show affection to someone. Everything he thought about seemed awkward and incongruous, but he really didn’t want you to think that he was an inexperienced old man who didn’t know how to please – and in your case, love – a woman.

He did. In theory.

So he tried his hardest to show you in other ways how much he cares about you. He brought you gifts, whether they were knickknacks scavenged during his patrols or wooden figurines he made for you. He did what he could to relieve you of your duties, helped around the house and out in the town. He found time during the day to spend with you or at least just talk in passing if you both were busy.

But that still wasn’t enough. He knew that wasn’t enough.

Every damn time you cuddled, every time you kissed him or did something as simple as lay your head on his shoulder, Joel never felt better. He never wanted those moments to end, but at the same time he just couldn’t reciprocate, and it was tearing him apart, because he could see how hurtful it was to you.

“You’re quiet.”

Joel snapped out of his thoughts and looked down at you, noting that you’re almost at his place. He breathed a little lighter when he realized that he managed to go all this way without the need of pulling his arm out of your grasp.

“Is everything alright?” you asked with concern in your beautiful eyes and squeezed his bicep slightly, causing Joel to clench his teeth. “Listen, if you’d prefer to go with Tommy, just tell me…”

“Hey, I’m okay, sweetheart,” he assured you quickly and even managed to smile as if the guilt of not being able to even kiss your forehead wasn’t eating him alive. “There’s no one else I’d rather be with right now.”

“Just right now?” you asked teasingly, and Joel couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him.

“Listen here, you little tease…”

A bright smile returned to your face and you tugged his arm down so your lips could reach his stubbly cheek – and (only a little) reluctantly, he let you kiss him with a huff.

But the guilt of not telling you the true reason of his worries was still swirling in his stomach, making him feel sick for the rest of the way.

An hour and a half later the cookies were already done, and somehow the attempt to clean each other off the flour and the colorful frosting you used to decorate them ended up with you sitting in Joel’s lap, kissing him softly.

Not that he minded.

There was nothing as wonderful as the feeling of your lips on his skin, Joel was sure of it. It’s been an embarrassingly long time since he was with someone that made him feel like a young boy in love again, but your every gesture, every sound coming out of your mouth and every day he got to spend with you was just a confirmation of how lucky he was to have you.

Even now, as you were kissing him slowly and without any rush, he felt butterflies fluttering in his stomach. But while they initially appeared from the happiness and giddiness you were causing in him, the longer your hands wandered – and the longer his stayed uselessly at his sides – the worse and more stressed he felt.

“You know you can touch me, right?” you asked playfully at last, and the pit in Joel’s stomach grew almost tenfold in size. “It’s highly encouraged, actually.”

There was an actual question in your voice, which made him feel even worse. He should’ve known you’d address it eventually – after all, nothing went past you – but it still felt so awfully embarrassing to admit it to you. He was an old man, but felt like an inexperienced teenager who didn’t know how to make a woman feel good.

You moved to kiss him again when he didn’t answer, too lost in his own thoughts, but on instinct Joel pulled back – actually ducked – out of your reach. Immediately regret painted his face at the rejected look in your eyes, and he started to rake his mind in search for something he could do to fix it, but nothing came to him. He knew what you’d want from him – you’d forgive him if he took your face in his hands, kissed you with all his strength, let you know that you did nothing wrong… but it made him nervous just thinking about it, let alone do it.

“Sorry,” he quickly muttered. “I didn’t– didn’t mean to… I’m sorry.”

“Hey, look at me… What’s wrong?” You brushed some hair out of his forehead and Joel exhaled shakily, feeling weak in the knees at your touch. “Talk to me, baby. Did I do something?” Joel shook his head and you pressed your lips together. “Did something happen, then?”

“No.” He shook his head quickly, but he avoided your eyes. “No. Nothin’.”

“Joel…”

The room got too stuffy all of the sudden, the shirt on his back too tight and your body too heavy on his lap. Joel knew he was panicking over nothing, but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t want you to see him like this, so unsure and embarrassed over his own insecurity and behavior… So he gently removed you from his lap and stood up from the couch.

“Sorry, I gotta… I need some air. I’ll be right back, alrigh’?”

“Joel.”

No ‘baby’. No ‘handsome’. The tone of your voice made him stop dead in his tracks, and he turned around to meet your sad, solemn eyes.

“Just tell me if you don’t want me anymore.”

Your voice, so small and weak, took him off-guard and for a couple of seconds Joel wasn’t sure if you really said that, or if it was just his imagination playing cruel tricks on him. He blinked several times, but you were still in front of him, sad and… oh, god, you were on the verge of tears.

“What?” He couldn’t help a curt, disbelieving chuckle that escaped him – which was a terrible reaction, he realized when you turned your head away from him. “I– I don’t understand.”

“You don’t ever want to touch me first.” You let out a shuddering breath and lifted your arm to wipe your eyes, and Joel realized with mortification that he fucking made you cry. “And when you do it’s only when I initiate it, but sometimes you just pull back and it… it makes me feel so unwanted. And I know I might come off as too clingy…”

“Hey, none of that.” Joel quickly made his way to you and sat back down, gazing at you with his brows furrowed in worry. Your face was tearstained already and you avoided looking at him, but didn’t pull back when he took your hand gently in his. “Darlin’...”

“Just tell me if it doesn’t work for you,” you breathed, your voice thick with tears which also welled up in your pretty eyes again. “I hate not knowing if I… if our relationship makes you happy.”

“Of course I’m happy, babygirl.” Joel lifted your hand as if to kiss it, but hesitated. He had half a mind to draw back, but you needed him now, and he needed to prove that he really loved you. So, tentatively, he pressed his inexperienced lips to your fingers, making you look up with suspicion dancing in your irises. “You make me the happiest I’ve ever felt.”

“You’re pretending.” The quiet accusation combined with you withdrawing your hand caused Joel’s heart to break and he opened his mouth to explain, but you didn’t give him a chance to. “I don’t want you to pretend now that I’m upset, I want– Joel, I need you to be honest and tell me if it isn’t working for you. You always move away when I try to hug you and during all this time we’ve been together I can count on one hand the number of times you kissed me first. I don’t…” you choked down a sob and a new wave of tears flew down your cheeks. “I don’t want to waste either of our time if that isn’t what you want. If I’m not what you want–”

“Sweetheart, you’re the only one I want,” Joel whispered with pain in his voice, moving so he could sit closer to you. “M’so very sorry that I wasn’t…” He searched for the right words, but everything felt flat on his tongue. “I’m sorry. For everythin’ I did that made you feel this way.”

“But why?” you asked pathetically, staring at him with defeat and sadness. “You never said anything and I wouldn’t try to touch you so much if you just told me you didn’t like it!”

“I do like it,” he cut you off with a firm tone, which caused you to stop abruptly. “I fuckin’– I love it when you touch me, darlin’. I’m dyin’ for you to keep doin’ it, but I…”

“You what?” you asked, softer this time, and Joel swallowed hard, nervous how you’ll react. But you had the right to know, so ultimately he pushed through his discomfort.

“I just don’t know what to do,” he finally settled on that. “I really, really love when you touch me, babygirl, no matter in what way.” He took another deep breath, bowing his head to look at his hands so that he didn’t have to face you. “But it’s been so long, damn decades, since I… since anyone touched me in the way you do. I never loved someone the way I love you. I’m very sorry, I just don’t know what I’m s’pposed to do… when someone…”

He trailed off, worried that he might break down and cry in front of you if he says another word, and he’d prefer to avoid it at all cost. The world outside was so harsh and cruel already, and you needed someone strong – a safe haven, a pillar you could lean on. He was that someone for everyone around him for the last twenty years, and even longer before the outbreak.

But it was so much different now. You made him feel safe and loved no matter what he could provide to you and it was almost scary how vulnerable he was becoming in your presence.

“...when someone cares for you?” you asked quietly. Joel nodded, and tears gathered in your eyes again, though now for a very different reason. “Oh, Joel…”

“M’sorry,” he whispered, his own vision also going misty. “I want to give you everythin’ you desire, darlin’. If you give me another chance, I promise I’ll try to…” He shook his head, defeated. “I don’t know. I’ll try to get past it.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” You scooted just a little closer and put your hand on his knee lightly. He looked up with anguish swimming in his brown eyes, not believing that you were still here and not already out of the door. You worried your lip between your teeth for a couple of seconds before inhaling deeply. “How about… I show you what to do? We can go as slow as you want.”

Joel slowly shook his head, not understanding. “...show me what?”

“You said you don’t really know what to do, right? So how about I show you exactly how… you know.” You smiled almost shyly, but it only caused Joel’s heart to beat even faster. “Where to put your hands.”

Joel was nodding before you even finished speaking.

It was embarrassing, really, how excited he got at this idea, but just the thought of your hands guiding his, demonstrating where and how to touch you, had him feeling weak in the knees and hot under his clothes. You smiled, almost with relief, and moved even closer until your thighs were touching.

“Here, just relax. We can stop at any time, just say a word,” you said soothingly, placing his palms on your hips and sending him a small smile. Joel wondered if you could see how red his face surely was, feel how sweaty his palms got. “Is this okay?”

“S’better than okay,” he breathed in something akin to wonder. “It’s easier… Everythin’ seems easier with you.” His chest was tight when he looked up at you. “Thank you.”

It wasn’t a lie. You did make it seem effortless, and though Joel could still feel the rigidness of his muscles and tendons, the tension was slowly melting away, replaced by a tingling warmth on his skin.

You gave him a reassuring smile and his eyes flickered to your lips almost involuntary. You noticed it, of course – Joel didn’t think he was exactly subtle with his staring – and cupped his jaw in your hands. His arm, practically instinctively, encircled your waist and pulled you closer before he could stop himself, but you didn’t berate him – in fact, you seemed delighted by his action.

“Now, are you going to kiss me or not?” you whispered coyly, brushing his cheekbones with the pads of your thumbs. Joel chuckled at your attempt to put him more at ease, but it worked and he leaned in to press – very, very carefully – his lips to yours. He felt you smiling against them and his eyes filled with tears from the overwhelming relief.

“I love you so much,” he murmured with his mouth only millimeters from yours. “So much, babygirl.”

You hummed a quiet love you, too, and moved your lips up to softly kiss his eyelids, then temple, then cheeks and nose. Joel almost wanted to cry when you started running your fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp gently. It felt so good, your touch so nice and tender… He couldn’t remember when was the last time someone treated him with such care. Maybe never. “Next time it becomes too much, you tell me, got it? And I promise I’ll make you feel better.”

Your touch didn’t bother him now that he admitted what was weighing heavily on his chest for so long. Now, it felt soothing. Grounding.

So, so loving.

Joel held you closer, melting into your embrace, and claimed your lips in a soft – if not a bit shy – kiss.

There was nothing else he’d rather be doing tonight.

#space sisters secret santa 2023 #joel miller x reader #joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fluff #joel miller x you

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headkiss · 1 year ago

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maybe this christmas time

pairing: steve harrington x sunshine!reader

summary: working as an elf during the holidays (which he isn’t a fan of) is not how steve would choose to spend his time, neither is doing a bucket list of your creation. you end up changing his mind.

word count: 9.5k

warnings: use of she/her pronouns for r, some grumpy steve (he’s still a softie underneath it, i can’t help it!), some family issues (a phone call from steve’s mom), a rude customer, christmas activities/themes, fluff, and a first kiss!

a/n: merry christmas and happy holidays from me to you!!! i hope u guys enjoy this one, i had a lot of fun writing it!! big big thank you to @bcyhoods for sending the request that inspired me to write this fic and to @bruisedboys who helped me out when i was unsure about things <333 ily guys i hope u all have the happiest of holidays!

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

Starcourt Mall is decorated to the brim. Fake snow and garlands, giant ornaments hanging from the ceiling, a Christmas tree that stays lit all day long.

And, in the middle of it all, Santa’s Workshop.

That’s where you are, where you’ve been for a couple of Decembers now. Every other month of the year, you work at the movie theater, scooping popcorn and scanning tickets. But, for December, you trade in your cinema t-shirt for an elf outfit, striped tights and all.

“It’s really not so bad once you get past the itching,” you tell Steve.

“Great,” he says, the sarcasm clear in his tone.

“Great,” you repeat, cheery enough for the both of you.

He wasn’t sure how it could get any worse than the sailor uniform. That is, until he saw what he had to wear for this gig.

It’s Steve Harrington’s first year at Santa’s Workshop, and you’ve been tasked with training him, though the job is mostly self-explanatory.

But unlike you, Steve didn’t volunteer for this.

“I can’t believe they picked me to do this,” he sighs. “Don’t even like elves.”

“Well they had to pick someone, Steve.” You shrug, “who knows, you might end up having fun!”

“Not likely.”

“At the very least, you’re getting paid, right?” You nudge him once with your elbow, “plus, if you’re extra nice, some moms give pretty good tips.”

You and Steve went to school together, but he never really spoke to you then. It was only after graduation that you had any sort of conversation with him. They mostly consisted of him bribing you with free ice cream to let Dustin and the gang into the movies for free.

That was after you caught him letting them into the back rooms to sneak in.

Now, Steve’s wearing a pair of slippers that jingle with every step just like yours, and in the only two shifts you’ve had together so far, you’ve spoken more than ever. Even if it’s mostly been instructions from you and an unenthusiastic comment in response from Steve.

“Do I really have to wear these fucking shoes?” He asks, following you out of the staff room.

“Yes. It’s part of the uniform.” You turn around to face him, walking backwards while he walks forwards. “Don’t worry, you’ll tune out the jingling soon enough.”

“I’ll hear these jingles in my nightmares.”

“At least you look cute!”

You spin back around, and Steve only rolls his eyes as he trudges on behind you.

Steve’s not quite sure how he feels about you, whether he finds you a little annoying or endearing. At the moment, with an elf hat squishing his hair, he’s leaning a little more towards the first.

He didn’t know you during school. Admittedly, he was an asshole for most of his time at Hawkins High, so that explains that. Even still, he doesn’t know much about you, only that you’re kind enough not to snitch on him for sneaking the kids into the movies and that you seem to seep sunshine all the fucking time.

And your sunshine seems to be dialed up during the holidays. Like you really believe in ‘holiday cheer.’

Steve knows, deep down and buried somewhere he’s not quite ready to face yet, that he’s mostly just jealous. Because if you like the holidays so much, if you’re smiling the way you do so often, you must have it pretty good at home.

To him, nothing else makes sense. Not when Christmas at the Harrington household has been absolute shit for years. First, it was the gifts he never wanted, things his parents didn’t care enough to know he didn’t like. Then, they dwindled until, eventually, Christmas did, too.

There’s a travel discount during the holidays, sweetie. We’re visiting dad’s boss’ cabin. Next year, we promise. Excuse, excuse, excuse.

So yeah, Steve’s never really understood the appeal. Walking behind you in a pair of jingling shoes and a scratchy outfit, he’s not sure he ever will.

You lead him towards the area where Santa’s Workshop has been set up, right by the fountain. There’s bright red carpet rolled out over the usual tiled floors, an area set up for the cue of families, and of course, a bench where some guy playing Santa will sit.

“Since we’re opening today I’ll show you the whole set-up routine.” You step over the rope with the sign that says ‘Gone to feed the reindeer!’ with Steve in tow. “Easy peasy.”

Steve steps over the rope behind you, shaking his head at the sound his shoes make when he lands. He chooses to listen to your voice instead.

“First, we count the props,” you nod over at the bin that’s tucked away behind a small tree, “there should be four sets of antlers, two santa hats, a red nose, and some extra elf hats.”

He stares at you—because why on earth would you have that memorized—and raises his eyebrows. For a moment, as he watches you grab the clipboard that sits atop the prob bin and start counting, Steve wonders if maybe he should be more like you. The kind of person who seems to see the good in everything.

Then, he remembers what the outfit he’s got on looks like and shakes the thought away.

“Why would anyone want to be a clown in these pictures?” He says.

“The red nose is for Rudolph, dummy.”

You say dummy with a smile, like it’s something to admire. Steve huffs.

“Rudolph’s a loser.”

“Aw, come on, he’s got his own song and everything! I’d say that makes him the opposite of a loser.”

“Of course you would,” he mutters, cursing the tiniest twitch of a smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth. “What’s next?”

“Right,” you grab the bag that you brought from the staff room and set it on the ground by the tripod that’s already set up. “Next is the camera. Here, I’ll show you.”

The only knowledge Steve’s got of cameras comes from whatever Jonathan has told him, which hasn’t been very much, considering the pair’s history on the topic despite them being friends now.

So, he steps closer to you, watches as you pull the camera out of the bag.

“You just have to switch it on and make sure the battery’s full, right there,” you say, pointing at the small symbol that lets you know if the camera’s charged or not. “And don’t forget to take the lens cap off. I did it once and this dad yelled at me, so...”

You pop the lens cap off, putting it in the bag. Steve’s standing close to you, right behind you, his chin hovering over your shoulder, the warmth of his chest just shy of brushing against your back.

“Finally,” you continue, ignoring the little skip in your heartbeat, the way you breathe just a tiny bit quicker. “Set it up on the tripod, and you’re good to go.”

He watches your fingertips move easily, securing the camera to the tripod. When you’re done, you turn around to face him, and it’s only then that Steve realizes how close he’s gotten.

Close enough that you stumble and land against his chest, his hands on your upper arms to steady you as you pull back quickly, like you’d been burned. Steve, however, doesn’t let go just yet and he’s got no idea why.

He doesn’t let go until the music in the mall is switched on, the opening notes of some Christmas song startling you both. Steve steps back and releases you, dropping his hands by his sides and ignoring the twitch of his fingers.

“Alright,” you say, trying to brush the moment off. “That sound means we’re open. You ready?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Nope!”

Your lunch breaks at Santa’s Workshop feel like a luxury, because no matter how much you enjoy the job, it’s nice to get away from the rowdy children it forces you to deal with.

Unlike your job at the theater, where your breaks are staggered, the workshop closes for an hour every day, meaning that even during lunch, Steve’s stuck with you.

The sign by the line for Santa is flipped, and parents groan whenever they see the festive font saying you’ll be back in an hour.

You take the hour spent in the staff room as a time to ask him questions, what his hobbies are (“does driving a pack of 13-year-olds around count?”), if he likes his job at Scoops (“I’m starting to appreciate it more. The lesser of two evils, or something”), if he’d introduce you to Robin someday (“I’m afraid of what that might do to my sanity.”)

Today, you’re trying to tackle the subject of his Grinch-like tendencies.

“What’s your favorite Christmas movie?” You ask.

Steve doesn’t know why he continues to answer your questions whenever you throw them at him—which is often—but he does. He thinks it might be like being mean to a puppy, ignoring you. Unnecessarily cruel.

“Don’t have one.”

“Ugh. Come on, Steve! Everyone has a favorite.” You slump in your seat across from him at the small table in the break room. Steve stares at you blankly as he takes another bite of his lunch. “You can tell me.”

“I’m serious,” he says, nudging your foot with his when it comes close. “They’re cheesy.”

“Aren’t you secretly a rom-com fan?”

“How did you-”

“So, you actually enjoy cheesy movies!”

“Okay, well you don’t have to say it to the entire mall. Gosh.”

Steve wonders how you know that about him, how you’ve been able to guess a lot of things without him telling you. Briefly, just for a second, he wonders if that might mean something.

Like, if maybe you’re in his life now for a reason.

“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me, Steve.” You smile what you hope is an honest, reassuring smile. “So, the cheesiness isn’t the root of the issue.”

“No, I guess not.”

“I’m gonna take a guess here,” you start, “and say that you’re not a fan of Christmas.”

“You’re not gonna let this go, are you?”

“Steve, I’ve never heard someone complain about jingle bells so much in my life.”

“We can’t all behave like we’ve been injected with sunshine.”

You don’t think he means it as a compliment, but you decide to take it as one nonetheless. But you suppose he’s right, there’s always gotta be a balance. Dark and light, happy and sad.

“Thank you,” you give him a quick grin. “And you’re avoiding the question.”

He’s silent for a moment, twisting his fork around between his fingers. “My parents never really did Christmas.”

Your heart squeezes a little in your chest at his words, at the way his tone goes quieter, at the way he looks at the table to avoid catching your eye.

Immediately, you feel guilty for prying, because the last thing you’d ever wanted to do was force him to tell you something he didn’t want to. It’s not your place, no matter how curious you are, no matter how much you’d like to give him a hug or something right about now.

It’s not your place, but you find yourself wishing it could be.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Steve.” You reach for his hand that sits on the table and give it a quick squeeze before pulling back. “You don’t have to talk about it. I shouldn’t have bugged you.”

“It’s okay. I’ve had a lot of time to accept it.” He shrugs, like it doesn’t affect him. But from the scrunch in his brows, you can tell it does, at least a little bit. “The Harringtons have better things to do than sit around cleaning up wrapping paper.”

Steve feels embarrassed, his cheeks warm and his head bent. He doesn’t like scraping this wound open, doesn’t like to think about what he was missing out on while everyone thought his life was perfect.

He especially doesn’t want you looking at him like he’s injured or something after this.

Surprisingly to Steve, you don’t. You actually do quite the opposite. You smile brightly at him, like you’ve just had an excellent idea, like you can inject a bit of your sunshine into him with it.

“How about this: I’ll teach you how great Christmas can be.”

“I think it might be a little late for that.” Steve tries to shake his admission away, to clear the room. He points at the elf hat on his head, “this outfit has ruined any last shred of hope I had.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that you make a cute elf? You pull it off better than I do.”

“You don’t have to lie to me.”

“I’m not!” Steve raises his eyebrows at you. You ignore that look. “Whatever. I cannot in good conscience, let you keep disliking Christmas. Think of how fun it could be. Plus, you owe me for all of those movies I let your children into.”

Steve already finds it difficult to say no to you, because of how kind you remain even when he’s snarky with you, because of the same kindness you seem to offer to everyone you meet.

So, even though he’s not sure what your plan entails, he sighs and says: “okay. Fine.”

“Wait, really?”

“Don’t make me change my mind.”

You cheer, clapping a little in your seat. “Oh my gosh, we can go skating, and go to one of those Christmas light festivals, and make cookies-”

“What did I get myself into?” Steve mutters, while you’re still rambling off ideas.

“-I’m gonna need to make a list.”

Even after your break ends, you seem to have an extra pep in your step, if that’s even possible. Your smile is a bit wider, your eyes brighter, and Steve can’t help but feel a little special for being somewhat responsible for that.

Really, what did I get myself into, he wonders.

In the time between him agreeing to your Christmas plans a couple of days ago and now, at yet another shift, Steve has realized that he actually likes you quite a bit. Even though your seemingly constant optimism drives him a little bit crazy.

You treat everyone with an attitude that’s so rare, he finds that his previous annoyance for you is slowly becoming overtaken by the endearment.

He won’t admit it, not when bantering with you seems to be the highlight of his days lately, but Steve is starting to be sort of grateful that he got selected for this job.

And that has absolutely nothing to do with the outfit he wears. He still fucking hates that.

“It’s alright, cutie,” he hears your voice say, all soft and understanding. He finds you, crouched down to talk to a little girl who seems to be wary of Santa. “I bet Santa will give you something extra from your list if you smile for the picture.”

The girl nods, like she’s determined. But, when you stand back up, she grabs onto your hand by your side.

“What is it?” You ask her.

“Can you do it with me?”

You look over to the girl’s mother where she stands to the side, and she nods, eager to get the picture done. So, with that, you say, “okay, then.”

Steve’s standing behind the camera as he watches you help the girl onto the bench beside Santa. Then you’re sitting beside her and telling her to look at the nice boy behind the camera.

It takes him a second to realize you’re talking about him, but when he does, he forces himself into action, bending to look through the viewfinder.

“Say cheese,” he says.

The click of the camera sounds, and then it’s done. You help the girl down, who goes over to her mom quickly and they head over to grab their picture.

Once they’re gone, the line dies down, giving you and Steve a rare pause from the pictures and overenthusiastic welcomes to ‘the North Pole.’

“I hope that family’s okay with my face in their picture,” you say, coming to stand beside Steve by the camera. “I mean, I know the mom nodded, but maybe they’ll cut me out of it.”

You’ve become more comfortable with Steve the more you’ve worked with him, getting to know him in how his grumpiness is more related to the holidays and early mornings than anything else, in how he turns the same grumpiness down when he talks to the kids.

You think he’s grown more comfortable with you, too, because he’s started bringing you a coffee in a festive cup in the morning, leaving it in your cubby without a word.

From Steve, you think that says a lot. His actions have always spoken louder than his words, you think. Like the free ice cream he gives you from Scoops, or the small nod he’d give you whenever he’d pick up the kids from a movie.

And now, there’s the small tug of his lips, the hint of a smile that has you saying, “Steve Harrington are you smiling right now?”

“Shut up,” he shakes his head at you. “That was sweet. What you did for that girl.”

Steve lets himself say what he thinks for once, because there’s nobody else around, because he wants you to hear it.

You hide your shy smile by looking down at your feet. You know that underneath everything, Steve is probably one of the best boys you’ve ever met, because even with his attitude, he’ll never say anything to truly hurt you, and with how little you know about his family, you also know that it’s rare for someone in his situation to remain so good.

Any resemblance of a compliment from Steve feels extra special, like its own gift in itself.

“Ruining her picture, you mean?” You ask, trying to cover up how you feel about him calling you sweet.

“You didn’t ruin that picture, sunshine.”

Sunshine. That’s new.

“Well I’m glad someone thinks so.”

Before Steve has the chance to respond, the line picks up again, and it’s back to business as usual. The routine click of the camera, the sound of parents telling their kids to smile nice and big.

You and Steve catching each other’s eye when a particularly entertaining family rolls around, laughing at the way he does an impression of a mom after she leaves. With work being sort of like this every day, you wish it could be Christmas all year round. You much prefer this to the theater, you think.

Steve can't say that he likes this job more than Scoops—Robin might call him traitorous—but he finds that you’d been at least a little right when you said that it would get better when he got used to things, when he hears the sound of your laugh rather than those stupid bells on his shoes.

He finds that he sometimes has to remind himself that he doesn’t like the holidays, that they aren’t like this all the time.

At the end of your shift, as you and Steve grab your stuff from the staff room, you turn to him, leaning against the wall as he shrugs on his coat.

“So, I made a list,” you say. “We are going to have the best Christmas ever, Harrington.”

“My standards are very low, so it wouldn’t take much.”

“Don’t care. I have plans. We can make gingerbread houses and get Christmas pajamas-”

“Absolutely not.”

While Steve already agreed to letting you show him Christmas your way, he thinks he can only take so much at a time. Small doses of your jolly spirit are plenty.

“Steeeve.”

“I am drawing the line. No Christmas pajamas. Not happening.”

“But the gingerbread houses are a yes?” You ask, hopeful and smiling like it’ll persuade him.

“I’ll get back to you on that one.”

That’s what Steve decides to say, instead of simply agreeing because he finds that he’d like to spend time with you outside of work, to see if you’re really so bright all the time, to see if he can soak it up a little better when he’s not dressed as a damn elf.

That’s what he decides to say because it’s easier than spilling the rest of it out there. Much, much easier.

“But you already agreed!” You pout at him a little, exaggerated dramatics on your part. “You can’t just tell me I can teach you Christmas and then back out, I mean, I made an actual bucket list. With glitter and shit.”

“Oh no, not the glitter,” Steve places a hand on his chest, sarcastically scandalized. “That makes it serious.”

You blink at him, giving him a blank look. “Don’t diss the list. By the end of it, you’re gonna be jolly as fuck, trust me.”

“Jolly as fuck,” he repeats, shaking his head on a laugh. “You’ve got a way with words, sunshine.”

“Thank you.” You push your tote bag onto your shoulder, fishing out your keys, they clink in your palm when you find them. “I’m not letting you back out of this, by the way. The list is binding.”

“Well in that case…”

You give Steve a little smile, the flash of a sunbeam, before heading out, and he’s left standing in the break room wondering what you’ve got on that list, why you seem to care so much about it.

Huffing, he supposes he’ll find out soon enough.

Steve definitely should not have told you that he’d never been ice skating before.

It all started when you’d been talking about that damn list at your most recent shift, a couple of days after he’d accepted the fact that he couldn’t back out of it (did he really want to?).

“Hey, you have a change of clothes in your bag, right?” You’d asked him in between families.

“Um… yeah. Why?”

“Because, Steve, our festivities begin today after work!” You clapped your hands together softly, excited and encouraging, yet delicate. “I haven’t quite decided what we’re starting with yet.”

“I thought you had a list.”

“I do! But it’s not in order,” you shrugged, “I’m more of a mood-based decision maker, anyways.”

“Of course you are,” he’d said, his usual sarcasm lighter, laced with something you couldn’t quite place.

“So I’m thinking we go skating-”

“Nope.”

“You can't say no to every idea I have. Then how will you get the Christmas experience?”

“I won’t say no to everything.” You looked at him like you didn’t believe him, so, quietly, he added, “it’s just, I’ve never been skating before.”

“Steve, that’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” you reassured him easily, your voice honest in a sort of natural way, like you couldn't lie even if you tried. “All the more reason to give it a try. The point is to have fun, not to be good at it. I’m really not that great, myself.”

“If I hate it, we’re leaving.”

“Deal.”

And that’s how he’d ended up here, standing next to you at the rental counter at the ice rink, telling some teenager his shoe size so he could get a pair of skates.

Steve looks at you as you talk to the teenager, paying before he even gets the chance. He looks at the hat you’ve got on your head, the way your jeans are cuffed just enough to let your snowman patterned socks peek out of your boots.

He realizes that he’s only ever really seen you in uniform, at the theater and as an elf, and he thinks, quickly, like a car driving by, that you look really pretty like this. With snowflakes stuck in your eyelashes and all.

Though he’s never said it, barely let himself think it, he’s always found you pretty in a sort of undeniable way, like it was just a fact. Now, he finds you pretty in a way that makes him feel it.

His heart beats like it feels it, too. The traitor.

“Thank you,” you say, grabbing both your and Steve’s pairs of skates. You turn to him, smiling like always, Christmas lights reflected in your eyes, “ready to go?”

“As I'll ever be,” he says, letting you lead the way to the benches by the rink.

He watches the way you tie your skates, copying your movements on his own pair, double knotting the bow at the end. When you stand, he stays seated for a moment, suddenly more nervous than before, because the last thing he wants to do is embarrass himself in front of you, in front of everyone around.

Like you can read his mind, you say, “it’s okay, the first step is only standing. It looks harder than it is, promise.”

“I feel like you’re lying to make me feel better.”

“Why don’t you just stand up and find out, then?”

He rolls his eyes, more at himself than you, and pushes himself up from the bench. It takes him a second to get used to the feeling of the skates, of balancing on them, but eventually, he nods at you, eager to get it over with.

“‘Kay, so it’s gonna feel weird when you step on the ice, but you can just hold onto the side until you get the hang of it.” You start walking ahead of him, turning back to say, “I have a feeling you’ll be a natural.”

“Sure you do,” he mutters, shaking his head.

The rink is outdoors, the walls surrounded with string lights of all kinds, twinkling and colorful. In the middle, there’s a big tree, a shining gold star sat on top. There’s a hot chocolate stand to the side, the smell mingling with the freshness of the cold.

There are Christmas songs playing over the speakers (of course), and Steve thinks that if he hears one more rendition of “Jingle Bell Rock,” he’ll have to invest in a pair of ear plugs. On top of that, there’s the sound of laughter, kids with their parents, friends, couples, everyone seems to be having fun.

Everyone seems to be at ease except for him.

You step onto the rink first, skating a couple of steps forward to give Steve room to get on. He holds onto the side like you told him to, lifting a foot and stepping forward slowly, his foot slipping a little when it hits the ice.

You don’t say anything, don’t pressure him, only stand there with a kindness in your eyes that tells him you won’t be anything but patient.

Still, he doesn’t take too long to get the other foot on the ice, too, his feet carrying him forward a little bit, his hand gripping the side tighter.

“See? It’s not so bad,” you skate to his side, leaving space between you as Steve holds out his arm for balance. “Now all you gotta do is push yourself forward.”

“You make it sound like it’s easy.”

“It’s called being encouraging, Steve. Let me be encouraging!”

“Fine,” he stares down at his feet, his hair falling over his forehead. “So what do I do?”

“Use one foot to push, and then let yourself glide, switch feet, and repeat. You can do it.”

He gives it a go, and finds that it isn’t awful, but he moves slowly, and looking around at the other people skating, he’s not an impressive skater at all.

Steve has always felt the urge to be good at everything he does, basketball, driving, even fucking babysitting. He’s always tried so hard to do things well, like maybe, if he was talented enough, his parents would care more, would finally be proud of him for something.

He swallows that thought down and pushes forward again.

You follow his speed, gliding easily beside him, “look at you go!”

“I look like an idiot,” he says, his arm outstretched beside him, the other gripping the side, his knees bent.

When you look at him, though, all you see is the pink of his cheeks and nose from the cold, the way his hair brushes against his forehead, the focus in his eyes, the determination. No, you don’t think he looks like an idiot at all.

“You look like you’re trying, and that’s a great look on you, Steve.”

This time, it isn’t only the cold that pinkens his cheeks.

He doesn’t have time to muster up a reply, because the next time Steve skates ahead, he stumbles, his balance wavering until he feels your hand grabbing onto his arm to help steady him.

Then, your hand moves to hold his, and even through the layers of both of your gloves, he feels the warmth in his fingertips, some sort of tingling.

“This way, if you fall, so do I,” you say, squeezing his hand once, winking at him like the thought of falling doesn’t scare you one bit.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Super sure.”

You hadn’t been lying on that one, because eventually Steve does fall, and you fall right along with him, landing on the ice with a little, “oop!”

On his back, Steve turns his head to look at you, your hair a mess around you, some on your cheeks. He reaches out and brushes it away.

“You okay, sunshine?”

The response he gets is the sound of your laughter, a single loud cackle that has your eyes widening and a hand smacking over your mouth.

Your laughter fades into a fit of giggles, one so infectious that Steve—surrounded by all kinds of Christmas-themed things he swore he hated—laughs along with you.

And for the first time, maybe in his entire life, Steve thinks that the holidays might not be the worst thing ever.

Steve’s in a bad mood today, that scrunch in his brows you'd thought had been easing away back in full force.

It’s your first shift back together since you’d been skating only a couple of days ago, and you can’t help but worry that maybe it was too much, that you’d pushed him too far.

Even though, at the time, he’d been smiling more than you’ve seen him smile maybe ever, and you really thought that you had a shot at making Christmas better for him. You worry that he wasn’t as happy as he seemed, that he was pretending to have fun for your sake.

Steve, on the other hand, is actually glad to be at work for once, glad for the distraction it gives him. He’s unaware that his emotions are so visible on his face, that you think an ounce of his annoyance and anger is aimed at you.

All he knows is that after the morning he had, he needs this distraction.

This morning, it wasn’t the beep of his alarm that had woken him up, but the shrill ring of the phone on his bedside table. Groggy, with his eyes still half shut, Steve picked up the phone.

He wishes he didn’t.

“Hello?” His voice was almost a groan, scratchy from sleep, irritated at being woken up earlier than his alarm.

“Steve, sweetie!” His mother’s voice made him squint his eyes shut further. “Why do you sound so tired?”

“‘Cause it’s six in the morning, mom.”

“Oh, silly me. I forgot about time zones,” she said, though she didn’t sound the least bit apologetic. She didn’t even care enough to know what time it was for her son. “Anyways, I’m calling to let you know your father and I won’t make it home for Christmas this year. There’s this banquet we just can’t miss. You understand, don’t you?”

Steve doesn’t know why he’d been surprised, doesn’t know why her words, completely devoid of any kind of empathy towards the situation, made his stomach hurt.

“Yeah, okay,” he’d said, because it was no use to do anything but agree.

This was his normal: an almost monthly phone call from one of his parents from wherever they are in the world, no matter the time, always telling him that they’re missing this holiday, his birthday (which, at this point, he was shocked they even remembered), anything.

“That’s my boy,” she’d said, as if she knew him at all. She didn’t. Hasn’t known him—or cared to—for a long time. “I knew you’d understand.”

“Right.”

“Oh, there’s your father. Gotta go.”

And just like that, she hung up.

Steve almost wishes that they’d never call at all, because maybe then it would be easier to swallow their neglect. If they’d just forget him completely, he could get rid of that stupid, tiny sprout of hope he feels whenever they call, hoping things will be different.

At least it was his mother this time, he thinks. His father is a hundred times worse, only ever disappointed in Steve, asking about his job or when he plans on ‘getting a real life,’ never about him.

So yeah, Steve’s in a bad mood today.

The two of you don’t talk for the majority of your shift, you, afraid that Steve’s angry with you, opting to give him space, and Steve, stewing in every negative emotion that comes along with a phone call from his parents.

You don’t talk until one of the last families in line for the day comes up.

Once the kids are in place, you lean down to look through the viewfinder, counting them down and snapping the picture when they say ‘cheese.’ To the side, the children’s mom looks at you with so much judgment, Steve, even brewing in his thoughts, notices.

With the picture taken, you take the camera over to the mom, letting her see the picture the way you do with all the parents, making sure they approve.

Instead of approval, what you get is, “what the hell is that?”

You’ve dealt with your fair share of rude customers, at every job you’ve had, but this woman all but screams at you, and that’s rare. “Sorry,” you say, “I can take a new one, no problem.”

“I better be getting the new one for free with how these pictures are looking,” she practically hisses at you.

Usually, you can handle stuff like this, can smack on a smile and politely agree to get things taken care of, but today, the mixture of all your self-doubt and worrying about messing things up with Steve and this mother shouting at you, things pile up, and you feel your happy mask slipping.

“Um,” you start, voice small.

“You elves get worse every year,” she says to you. “I can’t believe people this incompetent even exist.”

Steve, hearing the whole thing, is quick to step in front of you, any thoughts about his shitty parents quickly fading in favor of helping you.

“Excuse me, ma’am, but she already offered to take another picture, and if that isn’t good for you, you’re free to leave,” Steve’s voice doesn’t slip one bit, standing his ground with every word.

You’re overwhelmed with everything going on, and when Steve turns around to look at you, nodding his head towards the staff room, you take the escape he offers you quickly, eyes blurry with tears you won’t let fall until you’re alone.

“You can’t speak to me like that!” The woman stomps her foot.

“I can, actually. She,” he points in the direction you’d gone, “is the kindest person I know, and you shouldn’t speak to her that way. I understand the holidays are a stressful time for everyone, but we spend all day helping people like you take these pictures, and the least you could do is say ‘thank you.’”

Rather than respond, the woman takes her children’s hands and stomps off.

Steve turns to find that the few families that had been in line before have decided to leave, and he takes the emptiness of Santa’s Workshop as an opportunity to follow after you.

He finds you sitting on the bench beneath your cubby in the break room, head buried in your hands, sniffling a little like you’re trying to be as quiet as possible. Steve can’t think about anything other than how much he hates seeing you upset, like a cloud covering the sun.

“Hey,” he says gently, sitting beside you on the bench. “Don’t listen to any of that. She was a bitch.”

You’re both grateful and unhappy that Steve came after you. Grateful because he’s kind, because he’s showing you that he cares. Unhappy because you’re embarrassed of him seeing you like this, because he calls you sunshine and you don’t feel like that right now.

It takes a second before you move your hands, wiping at your cheeks before turning to look at Steve, his brown eyes already on your face, unbelievably soft.

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I don’t know why I’m crying. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not,” he assures you. “She was awful to you after a long enough day. You have every right to be upset.”

“You’re being really nice,” your voice breaks a little bit, fighting any more tears that threaten to spill.

“I can be nice. I should be nicer to you.” He knows he should, but with Christmas and everything, it’s easy for him to be grouchy. “You sound surprised.”

“It’s just,” you shrug, almost defeated. “I thought you were mad at me today.”

Steve’s heart fucking aches at the sound of your voice, all small and lacking of the light he’s somehow come to like so much. And when another tear slips down your cheek, he can’t stop himself from reaching out and holding your face in his hands, thumbing the tear away lightly.

“I don’t think I could ever really be mad at you, sunshine.”

“Oh.”

His hands are warm where they hold your cheeks, a thumb still tracing back and forth over your skin. Not mad, then.

“I, uh,” Steve looks at where his thumb brushes against you, like he can’t believe it’s there, like he doesn’t want to look into your eyes for the next part. “I got a call from my mom this morning. They’re not coming home this year. Again. I shouldn’t be surprised but… anyways. That’s why I’ve been so quiet and shit today. Not because of you.”

One of your hands comes up to lay over his where it sits on your cheek, tangling your fingers with his and moving your hands down to your lap.

“I’m sorry, Steve.”

“I’m the one who should be sorry. I shouldn’t take this stuff out on you just because you like Christmas and I don’t.”

You smile a little bit, a twitch of your lips, but Steve takes it as a win all the same.

“I’m gonna change that,” you say.

“Sure you will,” he replies, the sarcasm in his voice still there the way it usually is when he teases you, but this time, he’s smiling, too.

Steve told you to go home after that, assuring you that he’d take care of the few families left, and when you’d opened your mouth to tell him you were fine, you could stay, he’d pinned you with a look and told you again to let him do it.

So, you did.

You’d thought it would be a day at least until you’d see Steve again, but it’s only a couple of hours after your shift ends.

There’s a knock at your door, your apartment one of the ones built above a shop on Main Street, and even though you have no idea who it could be, you get up, sock-covered feet padding against the floor as you go over to answer it.

You’re surprised to find Steve on the other side—one, because you don’t think you’ve ever told him where you live, and two, because you didn’t think he’d want to see you more today than he already had—a bag in his hand and a shy sort of question on his face.

“Steve? What are you doing here?”

He scratches at the back of his neck with his free hand before responding, a nervous gesture that he hasn’t been able to get rid of. “I thought that maybe, after the day you’ve had, you could use some cheering up. I could, too.”

You remember him telling you about the phone call from his parents, and something in your stomach flutters a little when you realize that his plans to cheer up involve you of all people.

“Okay.” You smile, you can’t really help it, “come in, then.”

He does, closing the door behind him and toeing off his shoes before stepping inside any further. Steve spots your kitchen table easily, and moves to set the bag he’s holding down.

“I thought we could do another thing that might be on your list,” he says. Steve tugs things out of the bag, gingerbread house kits, to be exact. “Gingerbread houses are Christmas bucket list worthy, right?”

“Absolutely,” you search his face, a little confused because last you heard, Steve was not into your whole bucket list thing, but here he is. “And you’re doing this… voluntarily?”

“I have the receipt. I can return them, if you prefer.”

“No! Don’t do that. I just mean- I thought you didn’t like Christmas or my list and that you were just playing along to be nice.”

“I might not be the biggest fan of Christmas, but,” he shrugs, opening one of the boxes of gingerbread, “you’re a good teacher, sunshine.”

You resist the urge to pinch yourself, like you might be dreaming because Steve, who you’ve grown to like an embarrassing amount, is here, offering to do this with you and giving you a compliment like it’s nothing.

When you respond, you hope your voice doesn’t give away how you really feel. Excited, happy, your heart jumping. “Can I get that in writing?”

“Shut up.” He shakes his head, pointing to the unopened box, “now will you come build this gingerbread house or what?”

“Mine’s gonna be way prettier than yours.”

Steve simply rolls his eyes, but there’s the hint of a smile there, too. He’s happy to see that your light is back, that you didn’t let what happened at work get to you too much.

You sit down beside each other at your table, gingerbread kits laid out in front of you. Icing and sprinkles, a cookie roof and chimney. You’re sure it’ll leave a mess, but right now you don’t mind.

There’s a sort of lightness in the air, the knowledge that this thing—friendship, more, whatever it is—between the two of you is something that you’re both happy to bask in. It’s unspoken, and that doesn’t bother you.

You and Steve start by unpacking all of the pieces, yours laid out neatly, his in a leaning pile that makes you bite back a laugh.

“The fucking roof won’t stay on,” Steve says once you’ve both started to put the houses together, and he sounds genuinely annoyed about it.

“Just put some more icing on it,” you say, “there’s no such thing as too much.”

“I don’t think icing will save me now, sunshine.”

You look away from your own gingerbread house over to Steve’s. His hands are holding the roof up, pushing them together so they meet at the top, and he’s staring at the thing with so much determination that you can’t help but giggle.

“You laughing at me?” Steve quirks a brow at you, but there’s a shine in his eyes. They smile even when his mouth doesn’t.

“I can’t believe you’re taking this so seriously,” you laugh, and that smile of his spreads slowly on Steve’s face, blooming like a flower. “It’s alright to admit defeat, Steve. My house is already better than yours.”

“Woah, this isn’t over yet, alright? Mine just needs time, don’t you worry.”

“Whatever you say, Steve.”

“Someone’s feeling brave tonight,” he teases, nudging you with his elbow without letting go of the roof of his house. “Don’t speak too soon, sunshine. I could be the underdog here.”

You lean over with your icing bag in hand, piping some more into the gap in Steve’s roof. “Here, let me help.”

Steve—always reluctant to accept help of any kind, even the smallest things—lets you. While he watches your face as you pipe the icing, the focus, the way your tongue pokes out from between your lips, you take his distraction as an opportunity to move, letting your icing fall onto his hand instead of the house.

“Oops,” you shrug, your tone suggesting that it wasn’t a mistake at all.

Steve gasps overdramatically, then leans closer to you, “Oh, looks like you’ve got something right there.” His hand reaches for your face, and he spreads the icing from it onto your cheek.

“You’re done for, Harrington.”

He only laughs, bright and quick.

Before you know it, you’re having some sort of food fight, putting a dot of icing on Steve’s nose, him tossing sprinkles at you. It’s a mess, but all you can hear is Steve’s laughter, all you can see is his smile. Unguarded for once, free and genuine.

By the time it dies down, there’s stripes of icing on your cheeks, red and green sprinkles scattered about the floor and on the table, and Steve’s got his own patches of icing to deal with.

“You better help me clean this, Harrington,” you say, your giggles still spilling, fizzling out softly. “What are we gonna decorate these houses with now?”

“Mine’s a lost cause,” he admits, the pieces now in a pile the way they’d started.

“So I won, is what I’m hearing.”

Steve looks at you, at the sparkle in your eyes that had been dimmed earlier at work, at the smile that spreads across your face when his eyes meet yours. Fuck. He thinks you’re completely beautiful, icing across your face and all.

His gaze snags on a piece of green in your hair, and before he can think about it, he reaches up and tugs it out for you.

“Sprinkle,” he says.

You look at his hands, messy from the gingerbread houses but never any less strong, and you remember how they felt in yours when you’d been skating. And when you flick your eyes back to his face, he’s already looking at you, gaze dipping to your mouth quickly, like he can’t help it.

And shit, you think. You really, really like this boy.

Before either of you can say anything more, you’re leaning towards each other, meeting in the middle and you’re not sure if you kiss him or he kisses you, but you end up with your mouths pressed together.

It’s featherlight at first, testing the waters. Then, Steve’s hands cup your jaw gently and pull you back to him, and you wouldn’t dream of doing anything but follow.

He kisses you again, still soft somehow, but more certain, his lips dancing with yours like you’ve done this a hundred times before.

You reach up and grasp his wrists in your hands, feeling his pulse under your thumbs. His heart is racing just as much as yours, you notice. Like your heartbeats have synced to a twin pattern, like this kiss was enough to do that.

And while you’re not sure what will happen after this, you know that something has shifted, that both of you are saying things you’re too afraid to say out loud.

When he pulls back, Steve presses one, two more pecks to your mouth, his thumbs tracing over your skin so lightly you might’ve dreamt it.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever think about kissing the same way after you. Steve feels warm the way he does when the sun beams on him in summer, and quickly, he thinks, I could get used to this feeling.

Then, he gets up and finds a small towel in one of the drawers by your sink, wetting it with warm water before coming back to sit with you.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he says, using a finger to tilt your chin up, swiping the towel over your cheeks to get rid of the icing there as lightly as he can.

And that’s that.

December twenty-fourth is your last day at Santa’s Workshop. Christmas Eve snuck up quick, and tomorrow, the twenty-fifth, the mall will be closed.

You’ve always enjoyed the job, but this year’s been your favorite by far. Usually, you and your coworkers would get along just fine, talking during shifts and laughing but never expanding outside of work, but it’s completely different with Steve.

He knocked on your door with gingerbread houses in hand and kissed you like it meant something. You like him so much that it’s in your bones, this feeling he brings out of you, how special you feel when you think about the trust he’s shown you.

But looking back, you think you were screwed from the start. From his scrunched brows asking you if the bells on the elf shoes were really necessary, to confiding in you about his parents, that list you made that seemed to be the beginning of what things have grown into now.

Green elf hat lopsided on his head, Steve smiles at you from where he stands by the camera. You smile back without thinking, like it’s natural, an instinct.

“Alright,” he says, talking to the kids sitting on the bench with Santa. “Everyone say ‘cheese’ on three. One, two-”

“Cheese!”

The camera clicks, and then it’s onto the next, the system you and Steve have created moving along smoothly, family after family.

If someone told Steve when he’d started this job, grouchy and prepared to pout about it every day, that he’d grow to like it, that he’s realized he’ll miss it when it’s gone, he would’ve laughed in their faces.

Never in a million years did Steve think he’d come remotely close to enjoying being an elf, but he has (he still fucking hates the outfit, though). You have everything to do with his surprising not-so-hatred of the job, of his careful fondness growing towards the holidays.

It’s all because of you.

Christmas Eve is a busy day at Starcourt mall, parents rushing about for last minute presents, teenagers taking advantage of holiday sales, and families lined up for their Santa pictures they’d forgotten about until now.

You don’t get breaks between families often today, but once you do, you and Steve are next to each other, making imaginary backstories for random people that pass by, dramatically reading lips of conversations.

The next time there’s an opening, you walk over to Steve, holding up your fist as if there’s a microphone in it. “So, Steve, tell me, how does it feel to have survived December as a Christmas elf?”

“I feel like I should get an award, maybe,” he says into your fake microphone. “I’ve gotten two rashes from this scratchy outfit. Two! And I’ll never hear jingle bells the same again.”

You laugh before clearing your throat and getting back into your news anchor character, “wow. You heard it here folks, North Pole outfits are not luxurious.”

“No, they are not.”

Steve can’t help but grin as he looks at you, as he jokes around with you so easily it feels like he’s known you for years instead of a month. He supposes he has known you longer, but never the way he does now.

“Now, will you be returning to Santa’s Workshop in future Decembers, mister Harrington?”

“Well, that depends,” he says. “I think I’ll require a certain presence to be with me if I come back. Can’t survive it without my doses of sunshine.”

My doses of sunshine.

You’ve never reacted to words the way you do with Steve, but when he says things like that, how can you not react? He compliments you in these indirect ways that only you could understand, and this secret language of yours has your heart skipping, your world tinted-pink.

That one makes you break character, “really?”

“Really.”

Looking up at him, at those soft, melting brown eyes that have always told you more than anything else about him, at the fondness in them, you think about that kiss.

You haven’t spoken about it, but you haven’t felt the need to. It meant something, you know that much, and by the way Steve sneaks touches—a squeeze of your hand, a palm on your back—he does, too.

“You make Christmas better,” he tells you.

He leaves you with that as the next family walks up for their picture, but you don’t miss the way his eyes linger on you, his gaze spreading sparkles over your skin.

It’s hard to focus when all you can think about is him calling you sunshine in that soft voice of his he’s only used when you’re alone, but you have to, so it’s back to work you go.

You don’t get to speak much again until your shift is over, the Christmas Eve evening rush swooping in and keeping you both busy.

It’s bittersweet, walking to the back room for the last time from Santa’s Workshop. You’re excited for tomorrow, because it’s Christmas and it’s one of your favorite days of the year, but it’s hitting you now how much you’ll miss seeing Steve nearly every day.

You’ll still see him, of course you will. Whether it’s him getting you to help sneak kids into a movie or maybe something more, something for just the two of you. Either way, you’re at least sure of one thing: Steve Harrington is one of the best people you know.

He’s the first to speak as you step into the staff room. “I have something for you,” he says.

Steve scratches the back of his neck, the smallest hint of pink on his cheeks. He’s nervous, and it’s the sweetest thing. He reaches into his bag, pulling out a small box, a white ribbon tied in a bow around it, a little lopsided, like he’d tied it himself.

You take it from him, smiling down at the box, because no matter what’s in it, he cared enough to get you a gift and that’s what matters, that’s what you’ll hold onto.

“Really?”

“Open it, please.”

You listen, tugging the ribbon loose and opening up the small box. Inside, you find a delicate chain, the pendant in the shape of the sun.

“Steve.” It comes out in a breath, your eyes welling the tiniest bit because this is the best gift you’ve ever received. He’s a gift himself, looking at you shyly, searching your face for a reaction.

“Do you like it?” He asks, his voice soft. “If it’s too much I can-”

“It’s perfect,” you say, and you mean it. “Put it on for me?”

He flashes you a grin, the corners of his mouth tugging up as he nods and takes the necklace from you, undoing the clasp as you turn around and move your hair out of the way.

You can feel his warmth against your back as he drapes the necklace over your collar, his fingers brushing the back of your neck as he fiddles with the clasp.

“There you go,” he says, taking a small step back to give you room to spin back around to face him.

You look down at the sun pendant sitting against your skin, touching it lightly. Steve’s actions speak volumes, and this one makes you feel so many things. But above it all, you feel like his.

He watches your face as you look at the necklace, the slope of your nose and the softness of your cheeks. The flutter of your lashes and the smile you don’t even try to hide. He’s been resisting the urge to kiss you since he’d done it the first time, but it’s stronger than ever now, with his present around your neck.

Your eyes meet when you look back up at him, his brown ones never failing to show how he feels, and your heart skips with how he looks at you. Like he cares, like he doesn’t intend on stopping.

He brushes your hair over your shoulder, fingertips gentle as ever when they brush against the side of your neck.

“I love it, Steve, really. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sunshine.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything, I didn’t expect-”

“Hey,” he cuts you off, his hand shifting to hold yours, fingers lacing with yours easily, “you’ve given me so much.”

Steve doesn’t know how he got lucky enough to get paired with you for this job, how he got lucky enough to have someone look past his slight grumpiness and really see him. You’ve given him Christmas as a whole, erasing bad memories, replacing them with new ones, and he doesn’t think any present could repay you for that.

“Oh wait!” You squeeze his hand before letting go and heading towards your bag, digging until you find what you’d been looking for. You hand Steve a folded piece of paper, “you should have this.”

As he unfolds it, he realizes it’s the bucket list you’d made for him what feels like forever ago, glitter and all. There are activities with check marks beside them, the ones you’d completed, and he shakes his head with the smile he seems to only wear when you’re around.

Very last on the list, your handwriting spells out words that make his chest feel light, his heart full.

‘Make next Christmas just as good.’

Steve finally stops holding himself back and kisses you for the second time, and you’re both certain it won’t be the last.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

thank you for reading!! if you enjoyed, please please consider leaving a reblog or comment and let me know what you think! it would mean a bunch <3

1K notes · View notes

wangxianficfinder · 20 days ago

Text

Fic Finder

Dec 3rd

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1. I’m looking for a specific fic. It’s was on ao3. It’s book cannon compliant but from LWJ perspective. It’s less than 15 chapters (I think 11 is the number but I’m only 60% sure on that) (unless they’ve added more for the special chapters).

Thank you for the work you do ❤️💙 @smnthncl

FOUND? 🔒 The Price of Old Wishes by SoManyJacks (E, 67k, WangXian, Minor canon divergence, Angst, POV LWJ, Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, semi-verbal!LWJ, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Suicide) might be this one, although it has more chapters than mentioned

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2. Hi! I recently noticed one of the fics I had bookmarked has been deleted and I, foolishly, had not downloaded it! I suppose i was hopeful someone might have a copy, if the author is okay with it. (Though if I recall, it was either an orphaned work or by Anonymous, so not sure how that would work!)

It was a fic where wwx is an artist and lwj is a famous musician. He commissions art from wwx for his album and then hires wwx to give his son, lan yuan, art lessons at his home on this huge CR compound kind of thing. They cook for each other and lwj writes a song for him and they fall in love! (I think there was a small sequel about food too.)

The name of the fic is escaping me entirely! If anyone has copies they are willing to share, I would much appreciate it. @annerbhp

FOUND? I believe #2 might be 'light travels faster than sound' (Anonymous). It's been deleted but it's on the wayback machine (https://archiveofourown.org/works/27328495?view_full_work=true&view_adult=true) The sequel about food's also there too (https://archiveofourown.org/works/29110269?view_adult=true&view_full_work=true)

Number 2 is definitely “light travels faster than sound” by Fruitys (now deleted) - I dl’d it when I read it but if you would like options that have the same vibes I can recommend: “paint smears on sunny days” tho lwj is not a musician, and “Sonata, Acrylic on Canvas” in which LWJ is a music student & WWX is an art student

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3. looking for a fic i read a while ago where wei wuxian is a voice actor/barista living in a little new england town and lan wangji is an author looking for inspiration who moves to the town with his little son lan yuan, and wei wuxian is disabled after an accident on a movie set when he was 16/17

FOUND? Ornaments Under the Stars by trippednfell (M, 62k, wangxian, Modern, Inspired by Hallmark Christmas Movies, the wangxian Hallmark Movie AU no one asked for, plot and title were randomly generated, Kidfic, Disabled Character, debilitating injury as substitute for missing golden core, Additional Warnings In Author’s Note, Angst with a Happy Ending, Guest starring Lan Zhan’s sky blue coat, The Coat deserves its own tag, disordered eating habits - not a major plot point, WIP)

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4. Hi! This is fic finder. A little warning, this fic is R-18. There was a war between the wen and lan (i dont remember if its with lan only or with other clan too). WWX is the wen general. Because of him, LXC's golden core gets crushed by WZL. That makes LWJ hates WWX. And then WRH died and WC (I dont remember if its WX or WC) send WWX and others as a "bed warmer" (Sex slave) to lan. But only WWX that are treated worse because he was suspected as WRH killer. LXC tells LWJ to be kind to WWX, but LWJ is consumed by his hatred did not kind to WWX. WWX is sent to the lan, bounded with talisman and some object insertion locked with talisman. I dont remember how, but the jin sent someone to lan to "teach" WWX to became a good bed warmer. It was cruel. At first LWJ ignored the cruelness because of his ignorance but after he knows, he put stop of that. I think the wen invite the lans ro attend something to qishan. Thats all i think. I honestly dont remember what tag i used to find this fic in the past. Thanks @idontknowwhattowriteforusername

FOUND!🔒Captive Prince by Aquadrazi (E, 19k, WangXian, LXC/JGY, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Angst, Slow Burn, Implied Sexual Content, Explicit Sexual Content, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Torture, Accidental Voyeurism, Voyeurism, Public Sex, Sexual Slavery, Bondage, Dom/sub, Top JGY, Top LWJ, Bottom LXC, Bottom WWX, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Crack, Not Canon Compliant, Alternate Universe, Smut, Shameless Smut, Sex Magic, Orgasm Denial, Forced Orgasm, WangXian Endgame, Hurt/Comfort)

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5. Hi! Can you help find this fic for me? All i remember is a scene, lan zhan is wandering the world and when he arrives back home, lan xichen is waiting at the gates and lz thinking something like ' my brother has aged' he has white hairs etc. But lan zhan didn't change, didn't age a day, may be immortal?

Thank you so much💙

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6. Hey if you really don't mind, I have a favor to ask! Some trying ro fina a banger fic tht I cannot remember the name of foe the life of me. O read a lot of fics so it's a struggle. It's about Wei Wuxian being disowned by the Jiangs in the modern day bc he started dating lwj on a bet (jc bet that lwj would say yes if he asked him out and wwx was like "no way" And so he did and lwj said yes ofc) they then turn into boyfriends and jin zixun reveals to lwj that wwx only started dating him on a bet. This severely hurts lwj and angers everyone around him, to the point that madame yu just disowned wwx, leaving him no contact with anyone anymore. He becomes homeless and struggles a lot (including a traumatic dick sucking for money) and ends up being adopted by the Wens at a cafe. He stays there for 13 years, (while also attending classes I think) until lwj (who is now a famous musician) comes in for a tea 13 years later. They meet up, fall back in love, and clear up a lot of things and jc and jyl reconnect with wwx via lwj. It was a really sweet fic with feels and I need it in my veins.

FOUND? 💖 love wakes me by dea_liberty (E, 46k, WangXian, Happy Ending, Angst, Childhood Sweethearts, Misunderstandings, Famous LWJ, Coffee Shop Owner WWX, Finding each other again, Found Families, lots and lots of feelings, so many feelings, Stupid Grand Romantic Gestures)

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7. Hi! This is for the fic finder.

I'm looking for a modern au. It started in lxc's pov. Lxc & lwj were having dinner with lqr and they are supposed to not use their phone but lwj is getting constant calls which he doesn't receive and then lxc gets a call and it turns out to be wwx. He receives it and it turns out that wwx is at some sort of club where he was drugged and and he's stuck in the washroom while some man is banging at the door to try assault him. Lxc and lwj go to the club and I think lwj punches the the dude. Lxc also makes wwx puke up the drug by inducing vomiting with his fingers. Hope it helps @aristocraticteacup

FOUND! Please Let Me Take Care of You by incidentallyWangxian (G, 9k, WangXian, LXC & LWJ, LXC & WWX, Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Sexual Assault, ish, kinda assault, drugged WWX, big brother LXC, Nightmares, the horrifying ordeal of being known, Modern, Additional Warnings In Author’s Note, Hurt WWX, crying WWX)

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8. looking for help finding a fic!

wangxian based on a tumblr post (a witch offers a challenge to retrieve a key from her cat's neck, only one person tries to make friends with the cat, the cat is the witch)

the yiling laozu has offered a challenge to retrieve a bell from a pet crow and become his partner/husband(?). lwj is in the area to look for something and makes friends with this crow. eventually the crow offers the bell, and lwj must decline because he's in love with wwx. eventually he takes the bell and the crow is revealed to be wwx.

FOUND? ❤️ chasing you by jaws_3 (T, 10k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, WWX isn't found au, Shapeshifting, Pining, Identity Porn)

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9. This is so helpful! I'm looking for a long modern AU oneshot where Wei Wuxian is a doctor, and he's just gotten off shift when he witnesses a car accident. Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi were in the car (LSZ's arm is broken, but they're both okay). WWX has been away for 10(?) years and has recently moved back to the area to work at the local hospital. I'm not sure if I've forgotten to bookmark it, or if it has been disappeared. Thank you!

FOUND? plant a little happiness (let the roots run deep) by fleurdeliser (E, 47k, WangXian, Modern AU, Car Accidents, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Non-Explicit References to Injuries and Death, References to Addiction, Doctors & Physicians, Falling In Love, soft romance, background 3zun, [Podfic of] plant a little happiness (let the roots run deep) by knight_tracer, [Podfic of] plant a little happiness (let the roots run deep) by exmanhater)

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10. Hello, hope you're all having a good day and thank you for your time and this iniciative.

For the fic finder: I lost sight of a fic a long time ago, set during the study arc.

In the morning the disciples wake up to find their swords have been stolen and they blame Wei Wuxian for it since he is missing. Later, though, they find Wei Wuxian in the forest where he has been badly hurt by someone (YLLZ Wei Wuxian, I believe?).

FOUND? For the Dust and the Dirt by Nyxelestia (M, 63k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Time travel Fix-It, Cloud recesses study Arc, It gets worse before it gets better, WWX Whump, Hurt/comfort, Angst, Eventual Happy Ending)

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11. i am looking for a fic that i can’t find. it’s been a while since i read it but basically i remember wwx sends jiang chang on his way against his will so he can kill wen chao. the whole murder is very graphic and brutal but it was written very beautifully and it takes a lot out of wwx @sunshinepkjm-blog

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12. Hi I've been looking for two fics that should be on ao3

A) First has deity wangxian but they got seperated, WWX get captured by the Wens which maybe starts the Sunshot Campaign? and Jin Ling is like a spirit demigod thing that picked Jin Zixuan to be his father. I think Wen Popo and Wen Ning were also deities or some kind of nonhuman being and Wen Ning had something about eyes

B) Second one I only remember had a scene where WWX rides on his sword broomstick witch style and gets teased about it?

Thanks if you can find them <3 @nyankokoko

Hi hi I'm #12 from the Dec 3rd fic finder

Just letting you know that someone has found A)!! It was Black Jadeite by Tysis

I'm still looking for B) but I've realised that it have been a twitter/X thread fic so who knows where someone will stumble upon it but my search shall continue on!

Thank you mods and community members for all the help! <3

12A)

FOUND! Black Jadeite by Tysis (G, 27k, WangXian, JYL/WQ, 3zun, JC/NHS, Immortality, Fix-It of Sorts, LWJ Will Cause Problems On Purpose, Qishan Wen Catches a God, Patron God AU, LWJ Will Also Solve Problems On Accident, Non-Chronological, Everyone Lives, If it looks like character death, just wait a few hundred word and they’ll get better)

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13. Hiya! I have a ask for a finder! I'll try my best but I switched hyperfixations for a year so it is lost to my mind palace and before I was able to make a account on AO3. It's a fic that gives Firefly feels. Wwx is a consultant for looking at Resenment in ships and meets Lwj while he's supposed to go around in hiding.

The main thing I remember the most, stupidly enough, is the fact that the chapters open up with verses from songs. The song, as I started to listen to it religiously, was Follow Me by Written By Wolves in one of the chapters. "You've spent your whole life living by every rule they gave you. Don't you think it's time that you cut out all the lies, boy" <- That was the lyrics. I know that the first part is complete, but it was going to be a series, and now I can't find it. I humbly ask for help!. @skylar-lei1634

FOUND! Follow Me by unbirthdaydance (T, 37k, WangXian, Science Fiction & Fantasy, magic cats, Ghost Hunters, Supernatural Elements, Secret Identity, Emperor LWJ, Royalty, Necromancy, Magic, YLLZ WWX, BAMF WWX, Spaceships, Flirting, Awkward Flirting, Familiars, Worst Fanboy XY)

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14. Love this blog! Usually my bookmarks don't fail me, but it has this time. Help! I'm trying to find a (very well known, I'm certain) Yilling Wei fic where wangxian build traditions and rituals of their own, and Yuan comes up with spinning as a symbol of turning a new leaf. The scene wangxian get married has everyone invited, including Zewu-jun and other sect leaders, spinning and all find it adorable. I know this is a really well-loved one but my search-fu is failing. Thank you in advance!!!

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15. Hello! I'm looking for a fic, it came out a while ago(over 2 years).

In it, the lans the nies and the jin (well, lxc nmj and jgy)are all united and LWJ is the emperor. They r at war with the jiang and WWX is one of the generals for the jiangs. He's really smart and clever and LWJ fell in love with him across the battle field bc of how he kept outsmarting his generals (the polycule). LWJ and WWX only met one time on the battle field and LWJ had his face hidden even though he was present as The Emperor.

Sometime down the line LWJ sends over a peace treaty saying they'd cease hostilities(or something like that) with the Jiang in exchange for wwx to come to the capital. Everyone assumes including wwx that this means hed be like a political prisoner and wwx decided he's just gonna go bc even though he's a super awesome general with several victories , the situation at lotus pier is still shitty with madam yu still hating his guts. So he accepts the proposal and heads out in the dead of night only there's factions(?) Of people that keep trying to kill him to prevent him from meeting up where he's supposed to(the letter said to be by a specific bridge by a certain date).

Little does he know that LWJ actually wants to marry him and make wwx his empress, so bc he's a simp he left to go wait at the bridge in disguise(reg lwj not emperor lwj) and he brought a lot of stuff that could be used to make wwx s trip to the capital easier(like a tea pot etc). Lwj sees fire in the distance and rightly assumes somethings gone wrong and goes to investigate.

Its people who r using wwxs battle strategies against him(I think it was called the gauntlet or something) but in the fic it was really funny bc the ambushers set the forest on fire and wwx and some of his troops who followed him in secret to help him bc loyalty keep being like "but its raining?!?!"

I think wwx gets shot at one point and his troops hand him off to lwj to get him outta there bc they r all exhausted from running around trying to avoid dying.

Lwj is all mushy on the inside bc he gets to hold wwx, but wwx doesn't know who he is(I think he thinks lwj is like, the emperors personal guard sent to retrieve wwx?) and they r trying to get back over to lan territory to avoid getting killed and wwx is like "I doubt it'll stop once we cross the border, it's probably people on both sides who want to keep the war going and to do that they will want to sabotage me getting to the emperor who's just gonna hold me hostage." And lwj is like "the emperor wouldn't do that" and wwx is like "well ofcourse you'd say that u swore loyalty to him."

I remember early in the fic nmj was talking about how awesome wwx was bc nmj had these elephants he set onto the field and wwx just ordered his troops to spread out so they'd go in between the space between the war elephants. And nmj was like "that was some cool shit no lie"

Any and all help is appreciated with finding this fic, thank u so much!! @hilariousseagoat

FOUND! Veil by a_single_step (Not Rated, 96k, WangXian, WIP, Royalty, Arranged Marriage, War, General WWX, Emperor LWJ, Romance, Angst, Falling In Love, Pining LWJ, Misunderstandings, WWX doing his best, Sweet, Fluff and Humor) sounds like this fic especially the elephant part. It hasn’t updated in four year tho (´；ω；`)

~*~

16. Hi! I am looking for two stories:

A) The first is a modern AU, no magic. WWX is in the process of adopting A-Yuan and never mentions this to any coworkers, so come time for the summer company picnic, he decides (maybe prompted by NHS??) that the only thing to do is gas light all his coworkers that he has absolutely had a child all along. LWJ then returns the favor by speed running ‘pining from a distance’ to ‘in a committed relationship, next Tuesday is our wedding anniversary.’

B) The second is much less clearly remembered. AU of canon. LWJ meets WWX on a night hunt (I think on a farm??). LWJ was too young to have participated in the war and therefore doesn’t know WWX is the Yiling Patriarch, since LXC was the Lan who fought the war. The Burial Mounds Settlement is more established when the fic starts.

Thanks for all your hard work!!! @agedsolarwhisk

16A)

FOUND! Let’s Play Pretend and Live Our Lives by Tassos (E, 50k, WangXian, Modern, On Purpose Baby Aquisition, Accidental Husband Aquisition, Idiots in Love, WWX Has Self Esteem Issues, Domestic Fluff, Kid Fic, Light Angst, the Lans and Jiangs make an appearance, NHS Gives Great Advice, Pining, Getting Together)

16B)

NOT FOUND! Awaiting Your Return by Karmiya (E, 126k, WangXian, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, the opposite of slow burn, Found Family, Canon Divergence, Age Difference, discussions of wwx's canonical abusive childhood)

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17. Hiii. Thank you so much for your time. So i definitely have this fic downloaded but I’ve lost it amidst hundreds of downloaded books. So all I remember is that LWJ is an omega, he has to look for a mate. WWX is the demon? If yiling Patriarch and the two are close as in he came in for tea lan Zhan pours him tea etc think WWX is dark in this fic, all i remember is him pushing lan Zhan against a tree and taking a bit if advantage and lan Zhan obviously liked it. He says marry me somewhere as well @ruyipavillion

FOUND? Sanctuary by lunarvelle (E, 153k, WangXian, WIP, A/B/O, Bottom LWJ, Alpha WWX, Omega LWJ, YLLZ WWX, Demon WWX, Intersex LWJ, Rape/Non-con Elements, Dubious Consent, Feminization, Pack Dynamics, Genderfluid Character, Genderqueer Character, Breastfeeding, Male Lactation, Lactation Kink) maybe? it's been a while since i've read it, so i'm not sure, but it sounds similar

~*~

18. Hi! This is for fic finder. Its omega wwx. Set in burual settlement days. WQ is omega too. There are pregnant wen remnant. She, WWX, and WQ bonding together. She asked wwx that if she didnt survive he will raised the child. There are childbirth but the woman not survived. That baby is a-yuan. WQ and WWX takes turn taking care a yuan. Between the two, WWX produced milk that WQ says an omega sympathy if i remember correctly. Thats all i can remember. Thanks! @idontknowwhattowriteforusername

FOUND! The Unrestrained Love by orphan_account (T, 60k, WangXian, LXC/JGY, WIP, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death, A/B/O, Omega WWX, Alpha LXC, Omega JGY, Alpha LXC)

~*~

19. Hi! My gosh I've never done this before so I hope I'm doing it right but I am desperate?? I'm searching for a very specific wangxian fic that had Wangxian as established couple, married even I think, and Wwx was contemplating what to wear to some sort of event (i think it was a conference of some sort) and because he wasn't happy with his own robes he chose to wear lwjs robes and when he went in lwj had heart eyes and it was all really cute and incredibly well written (also it wasn't the one where lwj gave him his own gusu robes, I know that one!!) Pls pls help?

Much thanks for being a lifesaver anyway! @yes-i-guess-nevertheless

FOUND! Lord of Joyous Flowers by stiltonbasket (G, 2k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Married WangXian, Wardrobe malfunctions, or the one where WWX has a closet full of clothes but nothing to wear, Smitten LWJ, Fluff, Parenthood, Introspection, Happy Ending)

~*~

20. im looking for a modern fic where wwx and a-yuan move in next ro lwj. wwx is running from the wens and goes by mo xuanyu. pretty sure that jiang cheng/wen qing is a side pairing, wq is working at a hispital and jc is looking for wwx?

FOUND? Stop and Stay by Fantazy_Eyeland7 (M, 98k, wangxian, LXC/NMJ, JC/WQ, JYL/JZX, LXC/JGY, SL/XXC, WIP, Blood and Violence, Hurt WWX, Kidnapping, Torture, WWX discovering weighted blankets, Pining LWJ, Modern, FBI Agent NMJ, Protective LWJ, Emotional Manipulation, Toxic JGY, not JGY friendly, LWJ learning how to communicate, WangXian have competence kinks, adopting children, Bad Parent YZY, Protective JYL, Protective JC, Protective NMJ, Past Child Abuse, Precious LSZ, Baby LJY, Warning: XY, Blind Character, slaps top of WWX: This bad boy can fit so much trauma inside, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Everyone is ending up in well-needed therapy, Child Abandonment, Genius WWX, Obsessive XY, Yunmeng Siblings Feels, Eventual Smut, Bad Parent JFM, Junior Quartet Dynamics, (As Babies!), Implied/Referenced Suicide, sort of a slow burn, but not really, because they KNOW, they just can’t, Good Uncle LQR, eventually)

~*~

#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic finder #wangxian fic search #the untamed #wangxianficfinder #long post

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galvanizedfriend · 10 months ago

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Klaroline Fanfiction Masterlist

It's been a minute since I last updated my masterlist so I decided to go ahead and start a new one. Yokan // ▪ Multi-chapters

. The Wolf Series [I, II, III and Outtakes - Incomplete] When Caroline wakes up shackled, powerless and very far away from Mystic Falls, she knows she's in serious trouble. But when a woman named Sophie Deveraux reveals the reason why she's been kidnapped and taken to New Orleans, she realizes things are far worse than she could've ever imagined.

[The Originals rewriting where Caroline is a witch and gets pregnant with Klaus' child. Seasons 1, 2 and 3 complete, season 4 coming.]

. Vice and Virtue [6/6 - Complete] As the second son of a Duke, Klaus Mikaelson has the means and all the time in the world to indulge in every manner of wild activity with very little respect for the regiment of polite society. That is until his brother decides he's had enough of his vulgar ways and gives him an ultimatum. Caroline Forbes is a young debutante in search of true love and adventure. Except her aunt wishes for her to marry a somber Viscount who's already buried three wives. When their paths cross, they realize they might yet strike a deal that could satisfy their relatives and benefit them both.

[AH Regency!AU inspired by Bridgerton and a dozen other period novels I have been reading lately.]

. Pedulum [2/2 - Complete] This is what Klaus Mikaelson knows: death isn't the end for him. From the moment he is brought into the world to his final shuddering breath, Klaus' life is pretty much the same as everyone else's. The difference lies in what happens after he dies: he goes right back to the beginning, a child in London with the memory of dozens of lives lived before. Nothing ever really changes, including the fact that no matter how hard he tries, he can never save Caroline Forbes' life for too long.

[AH/soulmates!AU with a slight magical twist. Technically a one-shot, chapter 2 is just an alternate ending.]

. We'll Always Have New Orleans [3/15 - Incomplete] Caroline wakes up in a world where everything looks exactly the same, only nothing really is. For starters, she's no longer a vampire, and no one else in Mystic Falls has ever heard of witches, vampires or werewolves - no one except for Klaus, who woke up just as human and twice as angry about it. Their search for answers and a way out takes them all the way to New Orleans, and Caroline could never anticipate how much this crazy fake world was about to alter her reality forever.

[Canon-divergence!AU. Set right after TVD 4x18.]

. Speed Dating [3/4 - Incomplete] Klaus is having a bad month, so Caroline decides it's a great idea to drag him along to a round of Speed Dating. Other men in the room do not approve.

AH/AU fluff that was inspired by an episode of House (yes, it is fluff, I promise).

. Gasoline [2/2 - Complete] "He doesn't apologize, of course he doesn't. He doesn't care. He calls everyone love. It's not meant to mean anything. Except it did, once, and it makes Caroline's stomach churn away inside, as she feels Klaus crawling underneath her skin like he never left at all. I've still got you."

AH/Band!AU. Two years after Klaus walked out on his band - on her -, Caroline finds herself in her least favorite place on earth - New Orleans. She really did try to stay away from him, escaping an event just to keep off his radar. He finds her anyway.

. Like It's Christmas Again [2/2 - Complete] As Christmas approaches, Caroline Forbes, a New York-based event planner, is sent to a quaint small town in Virginia to organize their holiday festival. But her plans are momentarily hindered by the presence of Klaus Mikaelson, the Mayor's brother and a grumpy billionaire lacking in any holiday spirit, who's in town to close the sale of his family's manor - the charming estate she was hoping to use as a venue.

[AKA that time when I committed Christmas fic. AU/AH inspired by a Hallmark movie, I kid you not.]

. Spin [5/5 - Complete] Since she was seven years old, Caroline Forbes has been preparing herself to become President of the United States. But before she gets to the Oval Office, she needs to win the election for senior student president at the prestigious Saint Sebastian High - which would be in the bag if only goddamn Klaus Mikaelson hadn't decided to run against her.

[AH/AU lovers-to rivals-to-lovers The Politician!AU where everyone takes school elections way more seriously than they should.]

. How Far I'd Go [2/2 - Complete for now] Set in TVD S6/TO S2. Unable to control Caroline after she turns her humanity off, Stefan reaches out to the only person he can think of for help.

[Slices of moments of Klaus in Mystic Falls while Caroline has her humanity off.] ▪ One-shots

. The Sound of Settling Klaus hates his job at Mikaelson & Sons. He hates wearing a suit. He also hates his brothers constantly butting into his life. Everything will be better once he gets his much desired transfer to the New York branch. Caroline Forbes is the owner of Mystic Café, and when Klaus accidentally wanders into her coffee shop, his whole perspective changes. [AH/Coffee Shop!AU where Klaus is a lawyer. Fluffity Fluff. Lots of Mikaelsons and some Carenzo friendship.] . The Witch Queen Caroline always knew she was different. She was keyed into her own otherness very early on. Strange things happened around the Forbes women. Her mother never really had to spell it out to her, give it a name. Caroline could always sort of feel it, and then at some point the feeling blossomed into comprehension, and comprehension hardened into fact. And with that came an altogether different kind of certainty: this was not a secret she'd be able to keep forever. One day, no matter how hard she tried to hide it, everyone would find out. And when they did, they would come for her.

. Worst Things Have Happened Klaus Mikaelson is a prince with a very dark secret that threatens to destroy his family's legacy. Caroline Forbes is a sorceress whose job is to make sure his secret remains buried. But would it hurt him to put some clothes on? [Royal!AU, with a magical twist.] . The Unexpected Grace of Falling Apart The whole incident was bound to go down as a funny anecdote to be shared among friends, a Oh, you think you've had the worst hook-up ever? Hold my beer kind of story. Provided, of course, that she never had to see him ever and could just wipe him out of her life and memory for good. Given that they live in different time zones, it shouldn't be too much of a hassle.

That is precisely why Caroline is livid when she emerges from the arrivals area at Richmond airport to find Douchebag, in the flesh - sunglasses indoors and all, like the proper jerk that he is - holding up a sign that readsClarisse.

[AH/AU. It's Tyler's wedding weekend and Caroline is back in Mystic Falls for the first time after the most traumatic and depressing year of her life. And it's about to get even worse as she's made to share breathing space with Klaus, The Worst Guy Ever. Except they might have to join forces to save the wedding, and to the discovery that things might not be what the seem. As Caroline teeters on the edge of a breakdown she'd been trying very hard to conceal, an unexpected savior appears to help her through the haze.]

. love, the monster's got me now [Canon compliant. Set in TVD S03E09 Homecoming.]

"Don't run," he says calmly, sounding almost bored, but with a clear warning. "I'm in the mood for a chase. Little spoiler: you can't outrun me." His eyebrows twitch up when he finally turns around to face her, lips curling into an amused grin. "Tyler's girl," he states, gesturing towards the now empty yard. "You missed out on the celebrations, I’m afraid."

[Or: the missing Klaroline scene between "There's your pretty little girlfriend, Caroline" and "There's a whole world out there waiting for you." Klaus and Caroline meet after Homecoming.]

. When It's Gone Suddenly, Caroline hates how nice the bed feels. How soft the pillows are. How smooth and cool and expensive those goddamn sheets are against her skin. She hates the giddiness in her belly, like she's a stupid schoolgirl when she's not allowed to be one anymore. She hates how right the space between Klaus' arms felt, how easily she molded against him. His lips were as full and as soft as they looked, but his hands were gentler and more reverent than they had any right to be, and Caroline hates it. Hates it, hates it, hates it. She hates that it suits her, hates that she wants it, hates that none of it is hers to keep.

[Set after TVD S04E19 Pictures of You. Caroline hears about Klaus' impending departure after a mysterious letter and decides to have some words.] . Wishing Each Sigh Might Be the Last The first time she sees him, Caroline thinks he's an angel.

[Set in 1800s New Orleans. As Caroline lies dying, she prays for God to send help or end her torment and save her soul. She thinks an angel has come for her. But he's no angel at all.] . Feel the Madness Closing In Set in TO S3. Caroline is in New Orleans when Lucien and the Ancestors make a move against the Mikaelson family - and they know exactly who to target in order to get to Klaus. Paranoia sets in, sending him to a very dark place, and Caroline finally learns the price of being loved so profoundly by a monster. . Issues When Klaus' Hollywood career takes a down turn after a nasty divorce and a viral mug shot, his manager decides his life is not yet miserable enough, bringing in a PR company famous for its high-profile damage control cases.

[AH!AU where Klaus is a problematic movie star and Caroline is a PR agent with no time for his BS.] . Urban Legend "I hate myself for saying this, but I have to agree with Little Miss Sunshine," Caroline cuts in. "This is Whitmore. Nothing ever happens here. Least of all a possession that leads to a massacre of slasher movie proportions."

"Thank you, love," Klaus returns brightly. "Very flattering to be validated by you."

"Bite me, Klaus."

"Find me later, after my shift, and we can see to it," comes the shameless rejoinder.

[Or: Caroline tries to navigate life in college having the worst roommate ever, a douchebag who cannot take a hint and a nosy journalist whom she's definitely not attracted to. Never in a million years.]

#klaroline #klaroline fanfiction #klaus x caroline #klaroline fic #kc fanfiction #kcfic #kc fandom #klaus mikaelson #caroline forbes #the originals rewriting #the vampire diaries fanfiction #yokan writes #masterlist

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writeyouin · 1 year ago

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Hello, for holiday fics, can i request MTMTE Bots X Reader Headcanons where its Christmas time and there's a gift exchange? Thank you!

MTMTE Bots X Reader - Gift Exchange

A/N - A-All of them?! There's… That's a lot of bots. Imma just pick a few, then if anyone wants more you can just ask me for them.

Warnings - None

Rating - T

Swerve

Swerve is far too nervous for this.

It's your first Christmas aboard the ship, and he is determined to confess his love for you. Like, he has spent every last second planning this for months.

Now that it's time though, he thinks he might purge his tanks.

What if you don't like his gift? Worse, what if you reject him? He knows you won't be mean about it, but... he doesn't want to spend his life without you. He really loves you, and nothing terrifies him more than his own feelings.

Still, here is the moment. You've given him your gift.

It was a crocheted blanket, so he'll be comfy on movie nights. When did you have time to make this? Oh wow. He presses the material to his face. It's so soft, and if he takes in some air, it smells like you. Of course it does... You've clearly spent ages making it.

Swerve hugs you and he holds on for a few seconds too long. You laugh amiably, and make a joke about being Christmas crushed.

Finally, he lets you go and bashfully presents you with his gift. It isn't wrapped very well. It must have been difficult for him, since it's relatively small. You can see where the tape has come up a few times, stripping the paper of some of its colour. All this just makes you smile more.

You tear open the gift, and it's a datapad, specially made to be human-sized. You flick on the screen and find that it's filled with music, in a specially arranged playlist.

Admittedly, Swerve doesn't know a whole lot about Earth music. He's more into TV and movies, but he knows how much you love music, so he really tried with this.

Moreover, the first word of each song creates a message, and it is a long message. It's a confession. You might have missed it, had the first word of each song not been highlighted.

You take a while to read what's written. Meanwhile, Swerve is stuck in limbo, feeling entirely sick. Part of him wants to snatch the datapad back and laugh it off like it was all a mistake or a stupid joke. Instead, he waits, trying to stop his servos from shaking by resting them on his thighs.

When you've finished reading his confession, you let your thumb glide over the first song, hitting play.

You smile, get to your feet, and approach Swerve.

"I love it," You say quietly.

Then, you kiss him.

At first, Swerve is completely taken aback. Then, his hands find their way around your back and he's holding you close, your first kiss to Nat King Cole's 'The Very Thought of You.'

Rung

Rung didn't actually want gifts. The only thing he asked for was an evening alone with you.

Normally, he's so busy with his patients, and everyone always wants time with the ship's only human, usually so they can ask you questions and place bets on what the answer will be - Rodimus is still pissed that he lost 100 shanix when you were asked what a colander was (Sufficed to say, his answer wasn't kitchen utensil for draining water).

So, that's exactly how you spend Christmas Eve with Rung. You're sat in his lap, laid back on the sofa while he reads to you from a book you chose.

His fingers gently glide over your head - You feel safe with Rung - loved - and you know that he feels the same when he's with you.

Despite that, you did get him a gift, and little do you know, he's got you one too. They will both wait for tomorrow however, as you relax into one another, with no obligation to anyone else.

The next day, you wake up atop the berth, and realise that you must have fallen asleep when Rung was reading and that he has carried you to bed.

Yet, he isn't there with you. You're just getting up when you hear him humming. Your shared hab-suite isn't like the others on the ship - it's the only one wherein the rooms are separate as if to recreate a normal Earth apartment.

So, upon getting up to explore, you find Rung in the kitchen - He's never been in here before, except when he's looking for you.

This is his gift and his surprise. He knows how much time you always put into cooking, and unfortunately, there's nobody else who could ever cook for you, which he has been led to believe is a normal part of human relationships and something most humans are grateful for.

It took a while to research the recipes, and even more time to find out what ingredients could be substituted. Moreover, Rung has spent months practising this, between meetings, and now, he's rather good at it - he always was good at following instructions and handling delicate objects.

So, your Christmas brunch is courtesy of Rung, and you make sure to tell him how delicious everything is, kissing him afterwards so he might get a taste of the wonderful meal he's made as his arms wrap around you and he presses you against the dining table.

Later, after a long, and frankly heated make-out session, you present him with his gift. It's a model ship of the only one missing from his collection - the Lost Light itself. His eyes light up when he sees it, all ready to be put together.

That afternoon, the two of you sit together and start building the miniature, all while listening to Christmas music which plays serenely in the background.

Megatron

Megatron is staring at you quite intensely. If you weren't used to him, you might think he was glaring at you.

Still, you feel like you might have done something wrong or that he hates your gift to him. It was after all, rather personal, and Megatron isn't a huge fan of PDA.

The gift in question was a song. As it turned out, Nautica was something of a musical prodigy, so with her help, you had written a song about Megatron - She had composed the tune, while you wrote the lyrics.

You assumed that by involving another bot, Megatron felt exposed; it was entirely possible that he didn't like the idea of someone else singing about him or your relationship with him.

You couldn't be further from the truth.

The truth of the matter was that Megatron loved the song. You had poured your very soul into it, and it was so much more than he could have asked for.

... And in return, he had gotten you a gift basket. Soaps, shampoos, lotions - His research had led him to believe this was the social norm on Earth. He couldn't give you that now!

How would that look? You had given him a piece of your soul, and he got you L'oriel "because you're worth it."

No. It wasn't good enough.

"Excuse me a moment, I need to retrieve something from my hab-suite," Megatron said coolly, before leaving you.

You deflated, feeling that all was lost, especially since Megatron took a good thirty minutes to return.

Yet, when he came back, he held out a datapad for you, mumbling an apology that it wasn't wrapped.

You swallowed nervously when he wouldn't meet your eye, and then you took the present reverently.

You flicked on the screen and found it open in a folder - "(Y/N)'s Poetry."

There were well over a hundred entries, all of them dedicated to you.

'The Radiance of a Smile', 'Promises of Forever', and 'Forgiveness of the Past', were just a few at the top of the list. Even more surprising was the fact that a great many of them were written before the two of you began dating. When you looked at the earlier entries, you saw how Megatron's feelings towards you had come about and evolved into something more.

You were speechless, yet on your face, Megatron was pleased to see that you knew how he felt for you, and that your love for him was just as much of a weight, though it was one you were glad to bear.

#fanfiction #fanfic #reader insert #reader #maccadam #transformers #mtmte #more than meets the eye #ll #lost light #the lost light #transformers idw #swerve #swerve x reader #rung #rung x reader #megatron #megatron x reader #gift exchange

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covenofthearticulate · 5 days ago

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@vamptember's 12 Nights of Christmas | Night 4

It is too easy, these nights, for Louis to pass the entire evening in his library. Armand has so thoroughly spoiled him with every comfort he could ever want; collections of the rarest manuscripts, translations that lend new meaning to his beloved favorites, delightful little surprises of new titles which appear every now and then as unspoken tokens of love, just to let Louis know that Armand is thinking about him.

It was no accident that the library was tucked into the heart of the sprawling complex; away from any windows through which the sunlight might cut his reading short, and sequestered far enough from the street that Louis needn’t worry about the noise and chaos of the outside world. No, he could spend his every evening and every day in this library, just as he finds himself doing on this very evening, tucked quietly in his favorite armchair with only the company of the roaring fire and his beloved Rimbaud on the page, and—

“Jesus CHRIST—”

A flash of bright white light sears across his line of vision, and there is Daniel, fumbling with his phone in an all-too-mortal fashion as he clicks to turn off the flashlight.

“Merde alors—Daniel!” Louis yells right back.

His book hits the ground with a thud as Louis’ hands fly up to cover his eyes from the sudden onslaught.

“Sorry, sorry!” Daniel apologizes with a huff. “I thought you went out with everyone else.”

Even after Daniel turns the light off, Louis cannot help but squint in his direction, his raisined expression clearly reflective of the resentment now brewing in the wake of his disturbed peace.

“...and you were expecting to come into my library while I was away?” Louis raises a brow in suspicion.

“Well I didn’t want to go all the way downstairs for a candle. You’ve got spares in here, right?”

Stepping fully into the room, Daniel looks around for a moment. He’s rarely ever in this room; there are other libraries in the house, and it had always been made clear from the instant Louis moved in, that he requires a space of his own.

“A candle?”

“Yeah…for the outage.”

Louis blinks, cocks his head to the side for just a moment, but before he can even voice his question—

“For the outage, Louis. The power’s out!” Daniel raises his arms, motions up and out as if to say look around, you idiot!

“There’s a massive snowstorm. It’s been coming down hard for hours. Christ, you really didn’t know, did you?”

“I’ve been reading,” Louis replies with the stunning simplicity which never fails to get a breathy laugh of disbelief out of Daniel.

“I swear to god, between your library and Armand’s movie room, you two could wait out the whole end of the world in this place.”

“But the world hasn’t ended, Daniel.” Bending down with a sigh, Louis retrieves his book from the floor and flips through the now-bent pages in an attempt to find his place once more. “It’s only a few hours of darkness. We’ve both survived worse.”

Daniel gives a small scoff at that last remark which, admittedly, was slightly less kind than Louis would be on any other ordinary night, had his reading not been so rudely interrupted by a blinding light.

“You really don’t use any electricity? Like, at all?” Daniel fixes him with a skeptical, narrow-eyed look. In the shadows, the pinch of his brow looks ghastly.

“Why would I need it? I could read in complete darkness if I so wished; the fire is mostly for warmth and, I suppose, a bit of ambiance.”

With a roll of his eyes, Louis catches a glimpse of all the things Daniel wishes to point out: it’s not just the lights— it’s the alarm system, the wifi, the refrigerator, hell, the heated tiles in your bathroom that you keep pretending to hate! Stop acting as if you’re above it all when you benefit from it just as much as I do!

“Great, well…I’ll let you get back to your reading, then,” is what Daniel finally does say.

He grabs a candlestick from the mantle, sticks it into the open mouth of the fireplace to let the flames catch the wick, and…and then he holds it for a moment, once a small flame is caught, and realizes he doesn’t know exactly what to do with it. Maybe he’ll be fine holding it with his bare hands, it’s not like the wax will burn him, and he only needs it long enough to find the stupid flashlight from the cupboard and—

“Here,” Louis says with a tsk as he crosses over to his grand desk, grabs a beautiful brass candlestick holder from the corner. “Allow me.”

With his usual gentlemanly grace, Louis snatches the candle from Daniel’s hand, tips the flaming end toward the top of the holder and waits patiently for the first few drops of wax to land.

“It isn’t that I refuse to use electricity,” Louis finds himself explaining. “It’s simply that…well, it’s similar to the way you prefer listening to your music on vinyl instead of…what was it that you yelled at Benji for the other day? Spot?”

“Spotify?”

“Spotify. Overhead lighting is my spotify, Daniel. It’s helpful, but it doesn’t put me at ease, and it doesn’t feel natural.”

Turning the candlestick rightside up once more, he presses the bottom into the shallow pool of melted wax until the seal has cooled and the candle is cemented in place.

When he hands it back to Daniel, there is a familiar look of realization on his face. It never fails to amuse Louis, this expression of Daniel’s. It’s the same gentle crease between his brows and soft curl of his lips that appeared that very first night, the instant he began to realize that he was, in fact, speaking to a vampire. It returns to Daniel every now and again, whenever Louis says something in particular that strikes at that sentimental cord and reminds him that Louis is still the same creature he always was, with the very same tragic wisdom about him.

“...is it really snowing outside?” Louis asks, to break him from his thoughts, if nothing else.

“More than snowing,” Daniel scoffs. “It’s a blizzard.”

“Hmm. I’d like to see it,” Louis decides.

“Yeah?”

“Oh yes. If the world is ending, what use is it to stay holed up in my library?”

Louis stands, takes a step towards the doorway but pauses before heading all the way out. Turning back, he stares at Daniel, then back to the door, a silent yet glaringly obvious gesture to please get out so that Louis may follow behind.

The halls of Trinity Gate look different in the near darkness. Only now does Louis realize how truly rare it is, to walk the halls without pollution from the billboards and neighbors, without the odd glow of yellow light leaking from under the doorway leading to Sybelle’s room or one of the various guest suites, without the blitzkreig of colors from the televisions, or even the strange blinking lights from the smoke detectors and alarms.

Blessed darkness. True darkness.

The faint flicker of the candle’s flame dances across the crown moulding, the beloved paintings adorning the hallway, the statues that seem now to breathe and loosen their stiff limbs. Little details too small for the human eye, delivered only by the virtue of the Dark Gift.

This is a liminal space, he realizes, as the shadows warp the halls around them only to give way to the beautiful, insidious wonderland of silver moonlight reflecting from the snow and spilling in transcendent ripples across the hardwood floors.

Louis can hear the wind long before they arrive at the little window seat in the east wing sitting room. It’s low and fierce like a rumbling tide, and yet there’s something comforting in the patter of fresh white snow against the window pane.

They sit in silence, one on each end, ankles knocking together as they settle against the cushioned alcove.

“I’ve never seen this city so dark,” Louis breathes in amazement.

“Yeah…thank god the moon is out tonight.”

Louis has nothing to say, but he offers a soft hum in reply as he allows himself to become transfixed with the rush of snow coming down, the way each icy flake catches the silver moonlight, the way the wind makes them dance across the window pane as it howls and rages against the glass.

“This is the perfect weather for a ghost story,” Daniel says eventually in a voice so unsure, so soft, it nearly blends with the groan of the wind outside. “Know any good ones?”

He stops breathing for a moment, as the request hangs in the air. Louis notices the way his chest stops moving, just as he notices the rattle of the wrought iron gate around the perimeter of the building, and the whole world seems too quiet and too loud all at once.

It’s less of a question and more of a bait. They both know that.

Louis hasn’t spoken of it, of her, to anyone. Not even David, with all his well-meaning endeavors to chronicle the whole thing and somehow make sense of it for himself.

But Daniel is different. There is a softness there, an earnestness. And Louis has always been able to speak to Daniel, hasn't he? Suddenly Louis finds himself staring at him, drenched in silver-blue moonlight and the gentle lick of yellow from the candle flame, and behind the violet eyes and porcelain glow of his skin, he finds that very same reporter boy looking back at him with the very same hunger and curiosity.

“What would you like to know?” Louis asks, with a gentle tilt of his head.

“No, sorry,” Daniel immediately backtracks. “Nevermind.”

“It’s alright.” Louis says, and for perhaps the first time, actually means it. “Really, it’s alright.”

But Daniel continues to look out the window despite Louis’ eyes on him, and there’s a flurry of thoughts racing through his mind, just as quick and harsh and chaotic as the whipping wind outside.

I miss you. I love you. I want to hear you talk again, I want to listen to your stories, really listen. I miss you, I miss you, I miss you—

“Daniel—”

The instant his voice is imbued with that soft knowing, he can feel Daniel close off his mind, turn off the spout with a hurried sort of embarrassment that lets Louis know any sort of leakage just now was not intentional. He makes a sound in the back of his throat, something whining and self-chastising, and for a moment he seems so utterly, charmingly human. It makes Louis’ heart ache, and for some reason he can’t seem to help himself as he reaches out and lays one hand on Daniel’s knee.

A simple gesture, and yet they both seem to feel something; something overwhelming and indescribable and familiar and strange all at once. Daniel stares at the hand, then stares right at Louis, and it looks as if he has something to say but his mind is closed now, and Louis cannot seem to see anything past the restless thud of his pulse.

Leaning forward, Daniel places the candlestick on the narrow window ledge, presses his hand over Louis', and for just one flicker of a second, the wind dies outside, and the world is still and quiet and full of possibility.

“There’s a backup generator,” Louis admits, before either one of them does something they cannot take back. “In the boiler room, next to the breaker box.”

“Maybe we can leave it off for now. The darkness isn’t so bad, I guess.” Daniel shrugs.

“Very well,” Louis nods, and allows his eyes to soften just a bit. “Perhaps I can think of a story or two, after all.”

#sorrynotsorry this is late. had to let it marinate.#[banging pots and pans] I LOVE LOUIS AND DANIEL! I LOVE LOUIS AND DANIEL! I LOVE LOUIS AND DANEILLLLLLLL!#mine #my writing #;my writing #louis de pointe du lac #daniel molloy #vampetemberxmas

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aziraphales-library · 1 year ago

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The requests for Christmas fics have started to come in... far, far too late. Remember folks, it takes us months to answer asks and then they're in the queue for a while before publishing.

Luckily this blog is a resource, not simply an ask blog. We already have a #christmas tag you can check for fics we've recommended before!

As a little bonus, here are a few new fics from this year...

City Of Blinding Lights by ShadesOfDeviant (G)

“Well, I sometimes—that is to say—I often considered an early evening walk round the area to see the lights quite the romantic endeavour. Arm in arm under the glow of the fairy lights, I even have a route planned out for should I ever get the chance to go.” “Should you ever get the chance?” Crowley snorts in a way that would be unattractive to almost anyone other than Aziraphale before he folds his newspaper in half and then half again, and casually tosses it onto the coffee table beside him. “You need to be a bit more subtle when you’re aiming for a temptation angel.” He adds with a quick wink before he rolls up onto his feet. AKA: Aziraphale has always wanted to go on a romantic evening walk round London to see all the Christmas lights. Now free of Heaven & Hell and able to openly express his feelings for Crowley, Aziraphale can't think of a better time to implement a plan nearly 40 years in the making.

A Dream Is A Soft Place To Land (may we all be so lucky) by randomramblingsofme (T)

Crowley feels as if the universe won't let him get his feet back under him. He has no plan, is juggling two jobs, coping with chronic pain from an old injury, expertly (so he thinks) hiding a raging crush on the bookseller across the street, and he is currently covered in tree sap. But things could be worse. For example, he could forget all about the Whickber Street Christmas party being hosted by said crush until five minutes beforehand. Oh shit. --- Modern AU, Barista Crowley/Bookseller Aziraphale

Eggnog and Effervescence by RepQueen15 (T)

Crowley turned so as to be able to watch the rest of the movie, and his ear pressed against Aziraphale’s thigh. He felt the angel tremble a little, as though this weren’t just some small service to him either, though that was nothing short of ridicule. Or perhaps…? No. This was just Aziraphale being his perfect, soft self. Though maybe, just maybe, Crowley wasn’t the only one who needed a little more physical contact in his life. *** Crowley and Aziraphale spend a quiet Christmas Eve putting up fairy lights, getting tipsy on eggnog, watching ridiculous Christmas movies and... cuddling.

Here’s a Hand (My Dearest Friend) by perilit (T)

Wherein Crowley allows himself to be comforted in the days leading up to the Christmas holiday, and repays with some comforting of his own.

I’m Dreaming of a Light (and Dark) Christmas by cheeseplants (T)

Aziraphale had begun plotting his revenge a few days after the encounter with the man he had begun to refer to as the demon in his head. Not that he was a vengeful person. He was a good and righteous person who believed it was important to bring light into people's lives. Lights, in fact. Several of them. _______ Two shopkeepers with very different ideas about Christmas battle it out on Whickber Street to create the most extravagant Christmas lights in London. But when the lights go out, they start to find they may have more in common than they first thought. An enemies to lovers human-AU Christmas decorations feud!

If the Fates Allow by catherineland (T)

Crowley makes a shocking discovery: Aziraphale claims to hate Christmas. Crowley’s new mission is to show his angel what he’s been missing.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #christmas #fluff #domestic fluff #human au #mod d

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covetyou · 1 year ago

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freeze-thaw

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: no outbreak, fluff, smut, fingering, playing in the snow, temperature play, Joel probs has super bad circulation, established relationship but it's their first Christmas together and reader has some relationship insecurites word count: 2.7k summary: With your holiday plans ruined when a freak snow storm blows through town, you spend the fesitve period holed up with your partner, Joel Miller, learning exactly how warm you can keep each other in the snow.

A/N: happy holidays and merry sunday @oogaboogasphincter, from your Pedrostories Secret Santa! I went mostly for a snow, with a sprinkling of established relationship, and a dash of doing cozy things. I don't think I've written any of these things before, so it was a learning experience! I used just about every synonym I know for the word cold too.

snowy dividers by @saradika-graphics follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future fics

Your holiday plans had gone to shit the moment that first flurry fell from the sky. Icy roads, cancelled flights, and downed power lines - Texas infrastructure at its finest - had put a halt to your plans to head back north for the holiday. Joel's holiday plans didn't fair much better, and instead of your first Christmas together being spent apart, you were spending your first Christmas together, well, together.

Then, to make a bad thing worse, the power went out, leaving you stuck in the dark and the cold in your apartment, and together suddenly became very together.

It hadn't been the plan - you still felt so very shiny and new at this, at being with him, and the idea of spending such a significant holiday holed up with him terrified you more than the dark ever did. But still, Joel drove on treacherous roads to come pick you up at 3am, dragging you and the perishable food from your refrigerator back to his place for the holidays. He had a generator, and fuel, and enough space for both of you to be comfortable, he said.

You spent the first day keeping to yourself, tiptoeing around, not wanting to disturb him any more than you were. Then he'd caught you circling around the back of the sofa, so as to not disturb his view of the TV, and his deep laughter stopped you dead in your tracks.

A "the fuck are you doin'" later and your insecurities came tumbling out, quickly quashed by Joel as he made it very well known just how much he wanted you there. That night, it didn't take you long to learn how warm you could keep each other.

The second day was spent bundled together on the sofa, him between your legs or you between his.

On the third, you worked up such a sweat together that you'd walked around his house naked, never more grateful for the generator chugging away in the garage.

Eventually, domesticity took over, and you spent a day wrapped up in each other in different ways. Watching a movie, drinking hot coffee, cooking a meal.

You'd trailed behind Joel into the yard on his way to check the generator that same day, Joel wanting to check it was well fueled, and you wanting an excuse to be out of the house for five minutes.

You kick at the snow, enjoying it for a few moments before it inevitably seeps through your shoes and chills your toes. Reaching down, you fluff it through your fingers, throwing a little into the air just to watch it fall again - as if you hadn't seen enough falling snow this last week. Joel is watches you, his eyes burning into your back and a smile tugging at his lips.

"You get inside, I'll deal with all this."

You stick your tongue out at him, trudging further over the snow to spin in the middle of the yard with your arms flung wide. He's laughing along with you when you stop, disorientated and unsteady on your feet. Looking back to him you stop in your tracks, finally seeing the deep gouges that mar the otherwise pristine white crust covering the ground. Yours and Joel's boots, footprints in the snow. Something about it, your foot steps mingling there together for all to see, wretches open your chest and captivates you.

And so, drawn in as you were by the footprints, you write your initials in the snow. Yours first, and then his, joined together and underlined as fact. You hesitate to carve out a frozen heart - too fearful to freeze something so warm and new and growing in something as rigid and fragile as ice - and turn to Joel again, a smile spreading across your face as you gesture to the letters in the snow -

"Oof."

- and a snowball, aimed perfectly at the back of your head a moment ago collides directly with your face. You cough and splutter, briefly blinded by ice as you swipe your freezing fingers over your face, hearing the creak of Joel's boots on the snow as he approaches you with apologies and laughter spilling from his lips in equal measure.

You glower at him, snow undoubtedly caught in your eyebrows, hiding a laugh of your own.

"Get," he says, turning you by the shoulders and pushing lightly to get you back inside. "I'll handle out here, check on the generator. Get warmed up."

Inside, the warmth almost burns as you peel off your layers and check on the food still baking away in the oven. Holding your hands in front of it like it was an open flame, you warm your fingers and wait for Joel, who comes back a few minutes later, chilled to the bone, stomping the snow from his boots and shaking his head as he shudders with the cold.

"Generator's still lookin' good," he says, slapping his gloves down on the counter. He rubs his hands together, blowing on them in an attempt to warm them up faster. Four days now, and the power was still out thanks to a new downfall of snow overnight.

"Your turn to get warm then," you smile, bending down to peer into the oven. "Dinner won't be long now."

"Sounds great, darlin'."

The bitter bubble of air he brought in with him surrounds you as he pulls you into his arms, nuzzling his frosty nose into your hair, laughing with you as you twitch away from the cold.

You expect him to move to the stove, to warm his hands on the heat of the oven just as you did, but instead he draws his fingertips up your belly, pushing your sweater up. Cold fingers meet the soft warmth of your bare skin and you gasp, gripping his arm.

"Joel! Don't you dare."

It was karmic justice really, given the number of times you'd warmed your feet on him in the night recently. You couldn't help it if the man was like a radiator.

"Got old fingers, baby, cold gets to my bones quick. Lemme warm 'em up, I know just the place."

"Fine," you say, tensing and preparing for the incoming press of his icy hand to your belly.

It doesn't come. Instead he tucks his hand down the front of your leggings, dragging the cold with him and holding you tight with his other arm.

"Joel..."

"What? Friction gets 'em warmer quicker. You don't want me to lose 'em to frostbite, do you?" You can feel him smiling into your hair as you gasp at the cold press of his fingertips to the white heat between your legs.

"No. Wouldn't want you gettin' frostbite."

Joel hums into your hair, breathing you in, just as he starts to rub softly over your clit. The sensation makes your skin prickle, first with warmth, then with cold, then something deliciously inbetween.

A moment later he's already slipping them from you and you twist, raising your eyebrow at him and preparing to call him a tease, only to watch as he slides his fingers into his mouth, slicking his cool digits up with his saliva. He's tucking them back into your leggings with a mocking raised eyebrow of his own, kissing the gasp from your lips as his fingers make cold, wet trails down your warm stomach again. They slip against your clit with ease now, but the wetness only exacerbates the chill of his fingers.

The layers of your panties and leggings can't warm up his hand fast enough, and even as he starts to rub gently at you, doing much more than just warming his fingers, you feel a shiver of cold run through you.

"Friction is b-bullshit," you stutter. "Your fingers are still cold as hell."

"Just think how I feel, they're my fingers."

"My heart bleeds for you, Joel," you retort, leaning your head back onto him.

"If it don't feel good, I can stop."

"... I never said anything about stopping," you sigh, closing your eyes and widening your stance a little so he can reach further down.

Joel doesn't need further prompting, his spit slicked fingers slipping through your folds to dip lower between your legs to swipe at your entrance. It seemed counterintuitive, putting something so cold somewhere so warm, but Joel's fingers sliding with ease through the wetness pooled between your legs was proof enough that it did something.

Small strokes become broader, his cold fingers swiping up and down the seam of you as if to prove friction was all he was after. The heat from your core soon begins to warm his fingers, pulling warmth back into his bones and easing the ache in them with each passing moment. Still, it's slow going, and your arousal seems to grow exponentially quicker than the warmth in his fingers.

When they finally feel warmer, and your soft sighs turn to deeper moans, you arch your back, winding your hips along with the movement of his fingers. The cold was no match for how hot you were starting to feel. You would burn the cold right out of him before he was through.

"Joel-"

You gasp again when he slides a single cool finger down and presses it slowly inside of you. His fingertips may have been warmed by friction, but the length of his digits had not, and they still felt icy cold, making you clench and grip around him. Still, no amount of clenching can hide the wetness dripping out of you as he slides in with ease, slicking his finger up before pushing in with a second. He fucks you with them slowly, restricted by the fabric of your leggings, before pulling your arching back flush to his body. A second later his fingers still inside you, anchoring you down just as his palm presses flat against your mound. Warming you up and then cooling you down again over and over was making your head spin, and while you shudder and shiver in his arms, you know it's not the cold that does it this time.

"How are your hands still so cold," you pant.

"Bad circulation, darlin'," he whispers, and you feel yourself grow wetter still at the low gravelly sound of his voice.

"Should get that seen to."

"Good job I got you in the meantime."

The slow curl of his fingers isn't enough, and you find yourself rocking into his frigid palm, eager for the friction to return to your clit now that his fingers are buried deep inside you.

"Grind on it, darlin', that's it. Warm me up."

He rubs the heel of his palm against your clit in sync with your movements, and before you know it you're holding back twitches and biting your lips to stop moans from spilling too loudly out of you.

"You're gonna make me come, Joel."

"Just warmin' my hands, nothin' else."

You can hear the smile in his voice and feel it against your neck as he nuzzles his cold nose into your cheek.

"I know your game, Miller," you say, before groaning once again, pressing back against him with each rock of your hips, feeling the rapid swelling of his cock against your lower back. It seemed you were warming him in more ways than one as his fingers curled inside you, pushing and dragging against that spongy spot on your front wall that he never failed to find.

"Pussy's like a damn furnace. Who needs the generator, when we got this."

His palm is still cold, but you're starting to sweat, feeling the prickle of it across your scalp as you move, panting into the warm air of Joel's home. He could hold you like this forever, be buried in you like this forever as the world outside turned to ice, and you wouldn't mind.

But you're made painfully aware that this can't last forever as you feel yourself getting closer, pressure building inside you with each buck of your hips.

"Joel."

It's dizzying - his slowly warming palm and fingers, now red hot inside of you as they press and press and press at you in a way that would normally have you boneless if you were lying on his bed. But, standing here in the kitchen, you lock out your knees and hold on, white knuckle gripping the counter with your own still cold hands.

A shudder hits you when his cold face nudges yours again, and you turn your head to meet his lips in a kiss. He pulls the warmth from you there too, his cold nose nudging at yours. Even through your panties and the restricted movement of his hand, you can hear how wet you are, sloshing beneath his palm as you let out a keening moan straight into his mouth.

"S'okay. I got you."

He coaxes it out of you, you can feel it coming, his fingers picking up the pace, making the nudge of his palm just right, for just long enough, to send you skyrocketing in his arms.

It's white hot, sending a shiver down your spine as an orgasm ripples through you, twinkling behind your eyelids before exploding in your core, a muted breathy scream pulling from you with each gasping breath that leaves your mouth. You're falling apart as he holds you together, coming on his fingers and beneath his palm as he grinds it into every rock of your hips. Well practiced hands stop just as you're hitting a point of oversensitivity, cupping and holding onto you gently as you go as limp as you can in his arms, knees locked to keep you upright.

He swallows down each of your moans greedily, until you're left breathing heavy, forehead pressed to his. You feel half asleep, even standing on two feet.

"S'your turn," you mumble, only to be dissmissed by Joel with a promise of "later". You're grateful for it, feeling too sleepy to function all of a sudden, until Joel's voice rumbles through you once more.

"I'd say you make a great handwarmer, darlin'."

Laughter spills out of you, warm and bright, the heat in your cheeks warming his nose as he nuzzles against you once again.

"Only one problem," he murmurs, the cottonwool slowly clearing from your head.

"Mm?"

"Got two hands."

His other hand is still cold, he knows it is, but that doesn't stop him from snaking it up your waist, under your sweater and tickling at your bare stomach. You crumple in on yourself, legs that had held you through orgasm buckling as you twitch and laugh into him, smacking your fists into his sturdy chest.

"Stop, stop! You ass- asshole! J-Joel! Stop it!"

He lets you taste the laugh on his lips, kissing you once more as his cold hand rests against your bare skin.

"C'mon, let's eat."

You end that day as it started, wrapped up together, oblivious to the world outside and warmer than you had any right to be in a snow storm.

By the fifth day, the storm has passed, and by the sixth the power is back on, just in time for the big day. You both barely notice, staying wrapped up and warm together over the holiday.

You return to your apartment in the New Year and, even though the power has been back on for days and the heat has been pumping steadily, the place has never felt so cold.

In the years to come, you'd ask Joel about that week - the first of a New Year, and the first without you after having you around for so long. He'd tell you how cold it felt, how empty his house was without you in it. And when you turn up on his doorstep at the end of that first week, sniffling and crying and telling him you missed him, he'll crumple, telling you he felt exactly the same before drawing you into his arms and pulling you inside.

And then, eventually, in a home that was his and is now yours, you'll be sat in warmth and sunshine - as unexpected to the you of back then as a snowball to the face - watching your combined families meet for a Christmas not turned on its head by a Texan snow storm.

taglist: @jupiter-soups @wannab-urs @bean-is-reading @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @youandmeand5bucks-blog @bbyanarchist @vickywallace @kamcrazy123 @valkyreally @ashhlsstuff @a-literal-goblin @ariundercovers @iluvurfather @stevie75 @toxicanonymity @thesevi0lentdelights @sp00kymulderr

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future fics

#pedrostoriesgift23 #pedrostories #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #coveted fics

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