#they are both just giant softies

[ultravioletbrit]

“taste” - Jegulus microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - 688 words

“holiday movies” - 25 Days of Jegumas - Day 9 - @noblehouseofgay

“I’m not saying they’re cinematic master pieces, I’m saying they can be annoyingly captivating.” James flops down on the couch.

“I think what you’re saying is that you have terrible taste in holiday movies.” Regulus sits down beside him.  

“It’s not like I purposefully watch them.” Regulus gives James a skeptical look. “Oh, come on. You’ve never been flicking through channels and stayed on one of those movies just a little too long?” James holds his hand up indicating ‘a little’ with his thumb and forefinger.   

“No…” Regulus bats his hand away but he’s also avoiding eye contact.

“See!” James calls him out. “There’s something about them that draws you in, just for a minute.”

“Maybe I stay on the channel just to see how ridiculous it is?” Regulus poorly defends himself.

“Sure…”  

“They’re always so over-the-top predictable.” Regulus rolls his eyes. “The jaded guy that hates Christmas happens to be the only one that can ‘save Christmas’. Spoiler alert, he saves Christmas.” Regulus mocks.    

James chuckles. “Or the over-worked city girl who comes back to her hometown and remembers the ‘true meaning of Christmas.’”

Regulus is quiet for a moment, then in a much softer voice he says, “Or the childhood best friends who realize they actually have feelings for each other.”  

James turns to look at Regulus and he’s looking down at his lap, fidgeting with his fingers. “Yeah, that one’s the worst.” He whispers and turns to fully face Regulus. “It’s so unrealistic. How could they not know?”

Regulus hums and he’s so quiet that James wouldn’t hear him if they weren’t sitting so close. “How could they know each other for so long and never see what’s right in front of them?” Regulus keeps looking down for a moment before his lifts his head and makes eye contact with James.  

James smiles softly and holds eye contact for a minute. “And there’s always that moment where they make eye contact, and everything clicks.” James slightly leans towards Regulus.  

Regulus nervously bites his bottom lip for an excruciatingly long moment but never breaks eye contact. “And they think… maybe this is what they’ve been missing all along.” He whispers weakly, hesitantly.   

James’ smile grows just a little but he’s also cautious as he lifts his hand. “Then one of them does something that might be a little too affectionate.” He tucks a curl behind Regulus’s ear and his hand lingers on his cheek. “Just to test the waters, nervous the other character might not feel the same way.” He lets his fingers settle on Regulus’ neck as he brushes his thumb over his cheekbone.  

Regulus leans into his hand and James can see so many different emotions flash in his eyes. He closes them and takes a deep breath and when he opens his eyes, they’re fierce and vulnerable at the same time. “And the moment gets really intense, because you know they feel the same, but they’re also sort of terrified. Because if they cross that line, everything could change.”   

James nods in understanding, but his smile is still growing, and he moves even closer to Regulus. “But what if they realize everything’s supposed to change.” He whispers and it’s barely a breath, a secret just for them. “What if everything starts to make sense and they realize… they realize they’ve actually been in love this whole time… or at least one of them has.”

Regulus’ finally lets his smile grow as he leans closer to James when he whispers. “I think they probably both have.”

James beams and Regulus bites his bottom lip trying to hide his own growing smile. They gaze into each other’s eyes for several moments, letting years of emotions pass between them.  

Eventually, James breathes the smallest chuckle. “Then they stare at each other for a really long time, and you want scream, ‘just kiss already’, because you know it’s going to happen.”  

“But it’s just so cliché.” Regulus rolls his eyes fondly as he leans in.

“Yeah, things like that never happen in real life.” James' lips brush against Regulus’

“Never.” Regulus closes the last sliver of space and finally presses his lips to James’.   

[merakiui]

there is a knock at your door.

yandere!jade leech x (gender neutral) reader x yandere!floyd leech cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, stalking, fear/paranoia, kidnapping note - will you open it? // a birthday gift for the lovely and amazing @fish-brain-go-brrrr!!!!!!! may your special day be filled with eels, tako, and boundless happiness. (´▽`ʃƪ)♡ thank you for being a wonderful friend!! have the best birthday and enjoy this little gift hehe!!!! 🎉

Knock, knock. 

The door opens to reveal your friend since forever: Azul Ashengrotto.

And, more importantly, his Alaskan Malamute, who bounds over in quick clicks to greet you. You laugh as she all but pushes past Azul’s legs in an effort to reach your outstretched arms.

“Well, excuse you!” Azul laughs. She slobbers all over your face in her form of affectionate greeting before pulling away to sniff curiously at your suitcase. “Someone’s excited to see you.”

“I haven’t even gotten through the door,” you remark in between giggles.

“Okay, Pepper, that’s enough.” Azul clicks his tongue and she parts from you (not before delivering one final lick to your cheek. He smiles and pats her affectionately. “Good girl.”

Despite Pepper’s impressive size, she’s nothing but a softie. A gentle giant, some would describe her. You remember when she was just a puppy, small enough to be cradled in Azul’s arms like a human baby. How she’s grown!

“If you’d come this way, you can put your stuff down.” Azul shuffles aside to allow you to step fully into the foyer of his smartly-furnished home. “I’m sure you’re already familiar with everything, but it won’t hurt to reiterate.”

“Please do. It’s been a while since I’ve been at your place. Doesn’t seem like anything’s changed, though.”

He hums and shuts the door behind you. It locks smoothly. You trail after Azul, wheeling your suitcase down the hall and into the sitting room. Pepper bounds after the both of you and makes herself comfortable on a fluffy dog bed.

“Pepper’s feeding schedule hasn’t changed. Although I did switch to a different brand of dry food. This one is much better. Vet’s orders and all that. And every month I have a chef come in to prepare her a special, nutritionally balanced meal with only the freshest ingredients.”

“Wow! Isn’t she spoiled?” you tease in an exaggerated baby voice.

“I take care of my things,” he replies simply, shrugging your playful remark off, “and Pepper deserves only the finest.”

“I’m sure she appreciates it.”

As if having realized she’s the subject of conversation, Pepper barks.

Azul leads you through the house into the kitchen. It looks different from the last time you saw it and you realize he must have had it redone. Every appliance is brand-new, winking back at you when you peek into each gleaming surface.

Sleek, you think, admiring the wall oven. 

“Pepper gets one cup of dry food twice every day. Once in the morning and once at night. On Fridays, I give her a can of wet food as a treat. She can have that whenever you think is best. I usually do it around late morning, early afternoon.”

“Dry food twice each day. Wet food Friday. Got it.”

He opens a small door to a cupboard packed neatly with cans and containers. “This is where I keep her food. This bigger door is for human food. The wonderful pantry.” He knocks on it playfully.

Knock, knock.

You attempt a poor joke. “So it’s not just all dog food?”

“I have to feed myself,” he says, dramatically aghast. “I’m not a dog.”

“You sure about that?”

Azul barks out a chuckle. His mouth quirks up in an amused half-grin. “I’m sorry to disappoint. If it makes you feel any better, I’ve stocked this one full of everything indicated in the preferences you sent me.”

“So that’s why you asked me for that list! I just thought you wanted food recs.”

“That, too. You have unique tastes.”

“Microwave and canned meals are always there for me in my darkest hours.”

He hums. “Well, I’ve made sure to get each of your human favorites, so you needn’t feen for those too much.”

There’s a razored edge to his remark that makes you shrivel inside. As if your appetite is cheap in some way, more like a dog’s than a person’s.

But this is his house and it’s his money. You wouldn’t put it past him to factor in the pay cut for unnecessary sass. So you simply bare your teeth in a smile and take the punch, whether it was intended for you or not. Sometimes you forget he’s supposed to be your friend. 

“You’re welcome to use the kitchen. The whole house is your oyster, really,” he continues, guiding you towards the back door. It’s then when you notice the little black camera positioned in the corner of the room, its red eye peering soundlessly back at you. You wonder if that’s a new addition—the dog cameras. You can’t remember if they were there the last summer you were here. “Pepper has a tendency to stay out longer than she needs to after she’s done her business. She’ll come to the door once she’s had her fill, so there’s no need to fret. Although I’m sure she’ll listen to you. She’s quite obvious in her favoritism…”

You laugh but not because it’s funny. Because it’ll hopefully land you within his good graces, which is patently absurd if he’s meant to be your friend. You’re not even sure you can call these favors friendship when they’re transactional. If anything, you’re friendlier with Pepper than you are with Azul.

Am I really closer with a dog than a human? you think as he opens the door for you to view the fenced-in yard. You watch Azul gesture, his lips moving with his words. Actually, maybe Azul’s the dog.

Doubtful, but that doesn’t make the imagery any less comedic.

“I’ll be back next Monday. If you need anything or have any questions, you have my number. Oh, but just in case I’ve written the schedule for you and pasted it on the fridge should you forget.”

“I’ll be fine. It’s nothing I haven’t done before.”

At that, he smiles sincerely. “Thank you. I really do appreciate this, considering everything was such short notice.”

“Nah, don’t worry. We’re friends. Plus, Pepper loves me.”

He chuckles. “I suppose that’s more than enough of a bonus. Speaking of which, how much would you like to be paid?”

“However much you’d like to give me,” you blurt and immediately regret it.

“I researched the average pay for dog-sitters, but there were just so many conflicting opinions and variables. So what do you think would be best? Please don’t sell yourself short on account of my asking. I’m always willing to give you more for your services.”

Taking a pause, you contemplate his words. If you factor in the grocery trip he made on your behalf and his letting you stay for the week alongside the tasks you’ll be completing for Pepper…

You open your mouth to suggest four-hundred madol, but he beats you to it—and with a completely different amount.

“Does three-hundred suffice?”

“Sure. No, yes. Yeah, that works.” You smile, but you aren’t very pleased.

“Wonderful! If you ever find yourself thinking you might need more, please do tell me. I want to make sure you’re paid accordingly. Good work deserves equally good acknowledgement, wouldn’t you agree?”

You nod. If you know anything about Azul, it’s that he’s always willing to work with you when it comes to finances. He’s a businessman, so of course he’d know how to flawlessly navigate these types of situations. And having built himself a career and life on hard work, he has the confidence to throw numbers around and see which one sticks.

Briefly, as you follow him to the front door, you try to imagine yourself in his shoes—a businessperson who dresses smart every day, who never has to worry about money, who doesn’t have to be silently amazed by shiny appliances and refurbished kitchens.

And then you wonder if Azul is in the market for a spouse, but that idea is swiftly stamped out when you realize how silly it sounds.

He props his suitcase against the wall and bends down to welcome Pepper, who can easily match his height, into his arms. She licks at his face, sniffing the cologne spritzed on his suit, and he doesn’t seem to fuss over the hair.

“I’ll see you in a week. Be good to (Name) while I’m gone.”

Upon hearing your name, she whips her head up to look at you.

“She’s always good no matter what,” you vouch, reaching to scratch behind her ears. Her tail wags wildly. “The best girl.”

“I’m glad.” Azul pulls away. He plucks a lint roller from the side pouch in his backpack and casually brushes down his front. “I trust you’ll be fine in my absence? Do feel free to sleep wherever—whether on the sofa or in the guest bedroom upstairs. The sheets were just washed and the room is clean. Mine is as well, but I suppose it may be awkward to offer it.” He coughs into his fist. “Regardless, whichever space you find most comfortable, consider it yours for the duration of your stay.”

“Thank you for everything, Azul.” You hold the door for him as he drags his suitcase over the threshold, his backpack hanging from one shoulder. “Have a safe flight.”

Pepper joins you at the door to watch. You wave to him while he lifts his belongings into the trunk of his car, and then within mere minutes he’s pulling away and driving out of sight.

“And that’s that,” you announce, ducking back inside with Pepper. You shut the door and lock it. Surveying the sitting room, your hands situated on your hips, you wonder what you should do now. She peers up at you, just as expectant. 

The first thing you decide to do is peruse the pantry and the fridge. All of your favorites are arranged within. It’s actually too much, you realize, now unable to settle on a single option for dinner.

So instead you swipe the money Azul’s left for you on the counter—in case of emergencies, the note reads—and decide that this predicament is dire enough for pizza.

Knock, knock.

You pop up from the sofa and trot over to open the front door. Pepper gets there before you, barking loudly at the person on the other side. Gently, you shush her and peek out through the small crack to greet the driver. They smile and hand over your food. Rushing through the process, you give them the amount owed.

The door shuts and locks with a click.

“You’re babysitting for the same rich guy? You’d think he’d give you a raise or something since you do it so often,” Ace mutters into the phone.

“Yeah, well, it’s only a week.”

“Still a week’s worth of work. Why do you even feel bad? Ask for more. He said he’d give it to you, didn’t he?”

“I dunno… I mean, we already agreed on an amount and I don’t wanna seem like a greedy asshole—”

“(Name), he’s rich. They’re all greedy assholes. If he has the money to spoil his dog with monthly fancy feasts,” he says, putting on a posh accent, “then he has the money to pay you what you deserve. If you want, I could always say something. J-Just because you’re too chicken and all, I mean! Sometimes you need superstar Ace to step in. No need to thank me. I know I’m great.”

Propping your feet on the armrest at the end of the loveseat, you roll your eyes at the ceiling. “Whatever would I do without you?”

“Case in point! So you should totally ask him for more. Wring him out like a money rag.”

“We’ll see… He did buy a bunch of food for me and he’s letting me stay. He even left money for emergencies.”

“You used it, right?”

“Of course I did! I’m not stupid.”

Ace laughs. “So you’re alone then?”

“The dog’s here, too. You wanna say hi?” You tap your phone. “Okay, you’re on speaker. Pepper, you wanna meet my friend?”

“What’s up, Pepper!”

She lifts her head from where she’s resting on her cushion, her ears raised curiously. Her only response is a soft huff.

“She says hi.”

“You sure you’re not putting words in her mouth?”

“Surprised you couldn’t understand her, you dog.”

“Hey!”

Grinning, you pick at a loose string on your sweater. Azul’s house is always so cold. “But, yes, it’s just the dog and me. Why?”

Ace is quiet for an uncharacteristic beat. Eventually, he clears his throat. “Dunno. Just figured you might want some company. I could come over.”

You understand the implication coyly woven into his words. “I’d say yeah—”

“Really?!”

“But he’s got cameras. For the dog, I think.”

“So just cover them up?”

“Wow, great suggestion. How long did it take you to think of that one, brainiac?”

“I’m just saying… He’s away on a business thing, right? How much time is he gonna have to watch the cameras?”

“If he’s neurotic enough, he’ll find time.”

“He shouldn’t be if he trusts you to look after the house.”

“He also trusts how easy it’ll be to connect the dots if something goes missing from his house.”

“It’s not criminal to have a guest over! Geez. You make it sound so illegal…”

“Tough luck. If you really wanna hang out, we can just get lunch next time I’m—”

Knock, knock.

You sit up slightly on the sofa, brows furrowed. Is someone at the door? At this hour? You’re certain Azul isn’t expecting anyone, and the mail isn’t due to come until tomorrow morning. You glance at Pepper. Her eyes are closed, but her ears are raised, listening.

“Hey, Ace?”

“Yeah? What’s up?”

“Hold that thought. I think someone’s at the door.”

You manage to catch the very end of Ace’s don’t-get-murdered warning just before you set your phone down. Azul’s door has a panel of frosted glass, so even if you wanted to discern the person’s features on the other end you’d have to open it for confirmation. All you can go off of are shadows.

Unlocking the door, you pull it open and poke your head outside. The crisp air hits you like a slap.

No one’s there.

You check around in case someone dropped something off, but there’s nothing in sight. Nothing on the stoop. No mail to collect.

Did someone have the wrong house? you think, trying to picture the scenario in your mind. Or maybe some dumb kids are pranking me. 

Now irritated, you shut the door in a huff.

It’s summer. Don’t they have anything better to do?

Maybe it’s precisely because it’s summer that they don’t.

You choose to brush this annoyance aside in favor of picking up your phone to return to the conversation.

“Sorry about that. I’m back.”

“Everything good?”

“Yeah. No, yeah. All good here. Just some kids thinking they’re funny.”

“Yeaaah, no surprises there.”

“You’d think they’d stay away. Azul’s probably got enough money to sue them for disturbing the peace or some other stuffy nonsense and win.”

“They’re kids. They’re not gonna know any better.”

“Says the public menace.”

“I’m not that bad! Cut me some slack. I’ll have you know, I’ve matured significantly since my school days and I am very much a changed man.”

“Yeah, oookay.”

“I’m serious!”

“Sure, Mr. Mature. Anyway, it’s late. I should let Pepper out and get to bed.”

“You sure you don’t want me to sing you to sleep?” he teases.

“I actually value my sense of hearing, so no. Thanks, though.”

Before he can retort, you bid him sweet dreams and hang up. Gazing at the camera positioned in the corner, you rise to your feet.

The cameras are definitely new.

“Pepper, sweetheart, you wanna go outside?”

She seems to have understood that last part, for she scrambles out of her bed and pads over to the back door with a swaying tail. You open the door for her, and she rushes past you in a blur of fur.

Good. She’ll get one last run and bathroom break in before bed and hopefully we’ll be fine until morning.

Like a wine stain on a white shirt, your eyes are drawn to the camera once more. You can understand having cameras outside the property, but inside the house feels…unusual. But then you’ve never had a dog of your own and you’ve always lived in apartments on the highest floor, so maybe this is what most dog owners do when they need to monitor an overactive animal.

Maybe they’re those cameras that you can speak through! If that’s the case, then I can totally see him talking to Pepper or scolding her if she’s up to no good. Okay, that makes a little more sense now.

Another reason hits you, and you feel foolish for not realizing it first: For safety and security’s sake, too. Of course.

Your phone buzzes then and you pull it from your pocket to read the message. Ace has sent you something stupid on Magicam, no doubt. You’re about to open it and confirm when—

Knock, knock.

An admonishment on the tip of your tongue, you storm through the hall towards the front door. You throw it open this time, and like before you find empty space.

“Not funny,” you seethe, stepping out into the cold night to peer through the neat hedges and flower bushes. Surely those kids are hiding somewhere… “It’s late. Go home already!”

You don’t receive a reply. For a moment, you wait in anticipation. Wherever they’re hiding, they’ll have to get up and retreat eventually. It’s oddly quiet. You strain to listen for any giggles or whispers.

Nothing but suffocating silence.

And then Pepper barks, and you nearly jump out of your skin. You shut the door slowly, watching the outside slim down until eventually all you see is your warped reflection in the frosted glass.

Weird…

Again, Pepper barks.

“I’m coming! Wait just a moment, Pepper!”

You lock the door and scurry to let her in. 

Come tomorrow, those kids won’t be able to hide in the daylight, you tell yourself as you brush your teeth. And when I catch them, I’ll make sure to give them a talk on why it’s not nice to bother other people, especially at night when it’s dark out. It’s just unsafe for kids to be out late anyway!

When you settle into bed, you realize the house is perfectly still and silent. Pepper is snoozing comfortably on Azul’s bed. You never realized it, but Azul’s house seems bigger at night. More rooms. More space. Lots of shadows. A creak every now and then as everything settles. It’s in between sleep that you begin to wonder if you locked the door.

It’s fine. I’ve got Pepper to keep me safe.

Comforted with this knowledge, you fall asleep.

Knock, knock.

There is a knock at your door.

You jerk awake and, rather clumsily, feel around in the bed for your phone. It flashes the time back at you. The rest of the world comes trickling in through dull, still-sleepy senses. You finally register Pepper’s bark, which is beginning to sound more like an alarm with how relentless it is.

“Shit. It’s already afternoon?” And then you sit up. “Shit! It’s already afternoon!”

You rush down the stairs, apologizing profusely to Pepper with each step. She’s waiting for you at the very bottom, pacing in circles and barking at you.

“I know, I know! I’m sorry. I completely slept in. You must have to go really bad.”

She races you to the door and you yank it open in your haste, heaving a relieved breath when she bursts outside. You lean against the doorframe for support and bask in the sunshine that spills in.

The weather’s beautiful today. I can’t believe they were saying it might rain.

While Pepper runs laps outside, you busy yourself with filling Pepper’s bowls with the recommended amount of dry food and then fresh water. Her shadow appears against the door a few minutes later and so you let her in.

“Just in time,” you praise, watching as she trots eagerly over to her bowl.

With that out of the way, you begin preparing a very late breakfast for yourself. You can’t remember when the dishes from before were cleaned. Did you do them last night before bed?

“Doesn’t really matter,” you murmur, slicing fruit for a salad. “One less thing I have to do. Thank you, (Name) from the past.”

You skim through the notes Azul’s pasted to the bulletin board. Instructions for Pepper’s feeding schedule, reminders, times and dates. But then there are also things he’s left for himself. A calendar with important events marked. Various notes for miscellaneous things: Bring suit in for cleaning. Meet with dietician at the end of the month. Celebrate colleague’s birthday. These tiny slivers of his life remind you that Azul is a busy person like you. When you look at the stars he’s doodled around dates of particular importance, you feel yourself smiling. He’s not such an intimidating figure when you look at him through his calendar.

A text from Ace coaxes you out of your thoughts: u still on for tonight?

Tonight? But then you remember. Oh, fuck! Deuce’s birthday! I forgot we planned the surprise for today.

hell yeah!!! is your enthusiastic reply.

Later, while you’re getting ready for the evening, you think you hear someone knocking. But the running water drowns out all sounds from downstairs. If Pepper isn’t barking, it’s likely nothing.

You leave the house somewhat frazzled, hoping to shake off the strange suspicion that something isn’t right.

The biggest surprise, aside from jumping out to shock Deuce when he walked into the restaurant on account of thinking it a date—yes, you and Ace catfished him for this very cruel, irreverent birthday joke—is perhaps the text you receive from Azul.

Is it raining? Did Pepper track mud in the house?

You read it three more times and then you peek outside the window. It’s been raining ever since you arrived. So much for perfect weather… But Pepper couldn’t have gotten into any mud because the ground was dry earlier today.

No?? you write back, confusion bubbling in your chest. I haven’t sent her out since this morning when it was sunny. It’s raining now, but she hasn’t been out at all.

Horrified, you begin to wonder if you somehow spilled something during breakfast. Or did Pepper have an accident in the house? Did she get into something? A million questions headline your thoughts, overwhelming in their intensity. Thankfully, it’s Ace and Deuce who bring you back to the present.

“Ace told me you’re doing that house-sitting gig for that guy again.”

“Oh, yeah! I am. Dog-sitting, too.” You stuff your phone away.

Best not to think about it.

“Didja catch those kids?”

Deuce looks between you and Ace, a brow raised. “What kids?”

“You totally missed it! I guess some kids were knocking on (Name)’s door all night long.”

“They’re still doing it. I think…”

“No way!”

“Sooner or later, it becomes less annoying and more like harassment.” Deuce cringes. “And you haven’t caught them yet?”

“No. Or… Well, I thought I heard some knocking this morning. But I was still asleep and the dog was barking.”

“This guy has cameras, doesn’t he?” Ace looks to you for confirmation.

“Yeah, but it’s not like I have access to them.”

“Maybe that’ll drive whoever’s bothering you away. If they see the cameras, they’ll realize they’re being recorded and hopefully leave you alone.”

“Hopefully.”

“I offered to come over.”

“It’s not that serious.”

Ace and Deuce share a look of doubt.

“Really! It’s not, guys. All they’re doing is knocking on the door. Irritating as hell? Yes. But it’s all harmless. They’re outside. I’m inside. Plus, I’ve got Azul’s dog. She’s huge.”

“Just…keep yourself safe. Call one of us if you need to. We’ll come over,” Deuce says, poking around at the food on his plate.

“I will. Thank you. But let’s not worry about any of that. It’s your birthday! It’s supposed to be all about you.”

Somehow the unsettling atmosphere ebbs away, replaced with the joyous delusions of short-lived celebration.

You return to Azul’s house to find muddy pawprints on the floor. It takes you thirty minutes to scrub the floors clean, and for the entire time you’re racking your brain trying to understand how this happened. Was there mud in the backyard that you just weren’t aware of? Or did Pepper truly go outside when it was raining? Did you leave the door unlocked?

Surely Azul must have seen what happened on the cameras.

Something isn’t adding up. You spend your entire shower constructing the scene and its many possibilities, but none of them make a lick of sense.

It’s just you and Pepper, right?

As you toss and turn in bed, struggling to relax under a duvet that feels too itchy and hot, you think you hear someone knocking on the door.

Or maybe it’s the window. Maybe it’s right below you, tapping at the ceiling, pacing around in the kitchen, reaching to pet Pepper.

Maybe you’re just dreaming.

Azul calls you on the seventh day to check in. You consider telling him about the knocking, the dishes, that rainy day when Pepper tracked in mud, but you can’t seem to form the words without sounding utterly insane. So you smile and lie.

“No issues here. Pepper’s been wonderful.”

Azul hums, pleased. “Aah, I miss her something fierce. Oh, can you tell her I said that?”

You repeat his words to Pepper. “I dunno… I think she’s starting to like me more than you.”

“Well, isn’t that a problem? How else will she get her fix of you once you’re gone?”

“I’ll be back next time you need me.” And then you hesitate. “You…will need me again, right?”

“Of course. I always need you, (Name).”

There’s an awkward pause on his end. He clears his throat, but you don’t add anything to break the tension.

“Um, right. Yeah… Enjoy the rest of your business trip. I hope all is well with…that.”

“It is, yes. Thank you.”

“Then I won’t keep you.”

You end the call before he can say anything else. Pepper, who had been resting beside you on the sofa, tilts her head at you.

“Don’t tell him I said this,” you whisper, “but your owner is really bad at words sometimes.”

She leans in and licks your cheek.

Someone knocks on the door and lies in wait. You watch with bated breath, repeating the same phrase over and over: “Don’t open the door. Don’t open the door. Don’t open the door.”

Knock, knock.

She reaches for the knob.

“No… Come on. Don’t do it. It’s so clearly a trap!” You almost don’t want to watch. You know she’s as good as dead as soon as she opens the door, for the killer will descend and drag her back inside her own house.

Knock, knock.

She’s already opened the door. As expected, the killer pounces like the Grim Reaper and she shrieks like a banshee.

Knock, knock.

Knock, knock.

Knock, knock, knock.

Remote in hand, you lower the volume and focus on the silence that creeps in shortly after. You wait for a creak or another knock—a disturbance of some sort.

Slowly, you turn to glance at the door and then at the windows nearby with the curtains drawn. As quietly as you can manage, you set the remote down and slither off of the sofa. Pepper doesn’t seem bothered by the sounds, but you can tell she’s listening, her body tense.

No one’s out there. It’s nothing. 

You peel the curtains back ever so slightly and peek out at the darkness. There’s no one on the stoop. No one at the window. No one.

So then where was the knocking coming from? Was it really just the movie?

Or… No, certainly not. You refuse to entertain that thought.

But, if not the movie and not from outside, where else could the sound be coming from? Where else if not from within these very walls?

You shut the curtains and return to the sofa. Horror is swapped for a cheesy rom-com. You need the laughter and the cringe and every fluffy thing in between to calm the electricity in your nerves.

And it works. You fall asleep by the third rom-com, listening to cheesy one-liners and bad jokes with terribly written punchlines.

Knock, knock.

And then a noisy clatter.

You’re shaken from your slumber in a daze. You’re not sure what time it is or where you even are, and it takes a moment for clarity to filter in through the grogginess. You’re wrapped up in blankets on the bed in the guest room in Azul’s house and there’s someone standing at the foot of the bed, watching you in the gloom, and—

Wait.

How did you get to bed? Most importantly, what’s that blinking back at you? It can’t be Pepper. Pepper doesn’t have two-toned eyes. Pepper can’t stand on two legs. You squint through the shadows to pick out the shape of them, and your blood freezes when you realize it’s a person.  

A person. A person.

Someone’s inside the house and they’re looking right at you.

Do they know I’m awake? you think, your thoughts racing wildly. You lie there, rigid as a board and stiff as a corpse, and hope that they can’t tell. Calm down. Relax. Pepper will scare them off.

But then you notice she hasn’t barked a single time since you opened your eyes. Is she sleeping?

Terror pierces your heart. Did this person hurt her? Is she—

Don’t think about that.

Your eyes slide over towards the doorway, and you just about scream when you see another figure. The breath sticks in your throat. You know it’s another person because the way they lean so casually against the doorframe suggests a certain nonchalance with this situation. A nonchalance that can only belong to a person.

“Knock, knock. Aww. Did we wake you up?” It’s a man’s whispery drawl that combs through the room, raking through your scalp with sharp fingers, prodding at your ears like a hornet. “You looked so peaceful, too. Sorry about that.”

You’re not sure what you should do. Should you even try to run or escape when you’re already so cornered? Is there enough time to call for help? Will Pepper hear you if you shout? Should you play dead or feign sleep? What should you do?

What can you do?

You glance at the other figure. Unlike the other one, who sways and fidgets like he’s caught in a perpetual, invisible breeze, this person is perfectly, eerily still. Almost like a doll.

But then the man in the doorway laughs. “Layin’ it on thick there, ain’tcha? They’re already shakin’ like a leaf. No need to overdo it.”

A razored smile cuts through the gloom. Your eyesight adjusts enough to catch sight of a J-shaped strand of hair and the glint of an earring.

“No need to look so scared,” he continues, but you can’t pry your eyes from the other’s smile. It’s a smile of grotesque pleasure—one that feasts on fear so palpable it might as well be a three-course meal for him. “We’re not gonna hurt you.”

Then will you do something much worse? you want to ask, but all you can do is blink.

“Just gonna take you somewhere nice and cozy. Nothin’ scary about that. Ain’t that right, Jade?”

“Indeed, Floyd.” A voice as smooth and soft as melted caramel. Maybe it would’ve been soothing in a different situation. 

Before you can scream or lunge out of bed, arms are reaching out to restrain you. A hand slaps over your mouth. Fingers curl into your arms. A sickly sweet rag is stuffed against your nose.

Your feet kick against the wall, a steady knock-knock-knocking like a heartbeat, until your muscles still and the fight is drained from you. Unconsciousness blankets your body and mind within minutes.

There is nothing more unnerving than returning to an empty house, especially when it was once filled with human presence. No one knows anything, but they could’ve if there was evidence. Incriminating footage is no good.

Azul certainly thinks so while he dons his finest suit and practices a few expressions in the mirror. Pepper watches him from where she lays curled on his bed.

“A hero must look exceptional when he rescues his dearest one. Most of all, he must be innocent and trustworthy. Wouldn’t you say so, Pepper?”

At that, she can only offer a halfhearted whimper. He smiles.

“Let’s go visit my (Name).”

[eclips-moon]

Batboy's dating younger Reader headcanon

Hey y'all ! So this is my first time writing, please feel free to give your thoughts on the headcanon and if you want I would really appreciate some tips and advice :)

Tim Drake (Robin/Red Robin)

Protective AF: Tim would be a bit obsessed with keeping you safe, like... he already has a big brother vibe, so dating someone younger turns that into overdrive. He’s always checking on you, making sure you’ve eaten, got home safe, etc. Dude’s basically your life manager.

Super Respectful: He would NEVER cross any boundaries, especially knowing that you’re younger. He’s all about giving you space to grow at your own pace, while quietly supporting you from the sidelines.

Overachiever mode: Expect random gifts like "I did your homework for you" or "I hacked into the school system, and you’re now top of the class." He’d be lowkey smug about it but also super sweet, blushing when you thank him.

Jason Todd (Red Hood)

The Rebel with a soft spot: Jason? He’ll tease you about being younger, throwing around nicknames like "kid" or "baby" just to rile you up, but deep down, he’s got this protective instinct that runs DEEP. Anyone messes with you? They're about to meet Red Hood.

Conflicted feelings: Jason’s probably the most worried about the age gap. He’s already got a lot of self-doubt, so he’s constantly overthinking whether he's bad for you or if you deserve better. You’d have to reassure him that you’re all in, age difference and all.

Gentle Giant moments: Under all that sarcasm and tough exterior, Jason’s a softie. When you’re alone, he’s way more affectionate than you’d expect—always making sure you’re okay, wrapping you up in his leather jacket when you’re cold, stuff like that. He has this big-brother energy but romantic vibes creep in, making it all the more intense.

Dick Grayson (Nightwing)

Mr. Charming: You think the age difference bothers him? Nah. Dick’s the smooth talker of the Batfam, and he’ll joke about being your "wise older boyfriend," but he takes the relationship seriously.

Casual PDA King: He’s super affectionate. Always sneaking in little kisses on your forehead, holding your hand, or pulling you into his lap when you’re both chilling. He’d lowkey treat you like you’re the most precious person in his world.

Big Brother Mode Activated: Being the oldest of the Batboys, he’s super used to looking after younger siblings. This means he’ll also be extra watchful of you, even when you don’t realize it. He won’t overstep, but his protective side would slip through when he thinks you’re not noticing.

Damian Wayne (Robin)

Denial City: Damian hates admitting he cares for you at first because you’re younger. He’s probably the most resistant to the idea of romance. He’d tell himself (and you) that you’re too immature or inexperienced for a relationship... but his actions say otherwise.

Tsundere Vibes: He’ll brush off anything romantic at first. Compliments? "Tt, don’t be ridiculous." But then he’ll turn around and make sure no one else gets too close to you. If anyone flirts with you, they're getting the classic Damian death glare.

Secret Softie: Eventually, he’d accept his feelings, and when he does, he’s surprisingly thoughtful. Damian may not say "I love you" often, but he shows it through his actions—whether it's training with you, sharing his books, or letting you sit in on his quiet moments with his pets.

[amerricanartwork]

I got so freaking excited seeing the trailer for "The Wild Robot", so naturally some fanart was in order! I didn't expect the painting to look so oily and have so many softer edges, but I still think it came out really nice and was good practice! Colored pencil really has helped me figure out a personal painting process, as here I actually used a similar layering technique as when I work in colored pencil.

Aside from that though, I haven't read the books yet (though I plan to after I see the film) but this movie looks like it's gonna hit so many of my favorite tropes and features when it comes to fiction and animated stories, including: non-human protagonists (and both of my favorite kinds, animals and robots!), stylized visuals, robot learning to be more than just their programming yet still maintaining their original robot skills and behavior to a degree, robot with emotions and unique ways of showing it, character in the wilds adapting by studying the animals, post-industrial-level technology existing in harmony with nature and the wilds rather than being portrayed as inherently harmful to nature and therefore inherently wrong to make (this is a big one for me), the odd duo, the gentle giant, a character finding belonging in an unexpected environment, just general wonder for the beauty of the wilds, and probably other things that'll come to me as I understand this story more.

But even beyond that, I just had to draw Roz because she's so freaking cute! Like, even excluding the adorable way she mimics the animals or glows when happy or how her "eyelids" give her more facial variation, in design alone she's so round and sweet looking! And somehow her being big and bulky to juxtapose her kindness with an strong and imposing stature just makes it even better! I love characters who are large and intimidating at first glance but total softies on the inside. Brightbill's definitely in good hands!

If the film holds up and Roz also has a clear and entertaining personality beyond just being curious and caring, there's a 60% chance that come September she'll become my new robot blorbo (roblorbo?), up there with C-3PO, Wall-E, and Five Pebbles!

Also, another version of the sketches from when they were just the lines for comparison!

[hana-no-seiiki]

Good news. Did some decent progress on What’s Up Danger so you guys will finally get fed this Wednesday! Bad news, the quality might not be the best since I’m fasting while writing it oTL

Anyways, here are some Batfam w/ Cat Villain! Reader moments/snippets.

TW YANDERE AND MENTION OF NONCON/SOMNO

Both Jason and Reader’s first words to each other were, “What the fuck.”

Reader referring to Jason being a giant, and violent asf esp in comparison to Dick. While Jason was confused at his heart beating so fast and mildly crushing on you while you were fighting.

Bonus points: You guys did the spiderman point meme.

You have the biggest age gap with Dick. I headcannon the boys to be close in age so there wouldn’t be any not so good implications when it comes to relationships, but it’s almost unavoidable unless Batman switches sidekicks every year or so. (You are younger than Jason but older than Tim)

But that is also another reason why you two didn’t click as well as you did with Jason

You’d often make jokes or use slang and Dick would just be “???” He tried his best though.

On the reverse side of things, and like I mention before Tim and you got along too well as friends. He’s one of the few people you could gush to about literally any fandom and he somehow (through stalking your searches and literally every gadget/appliance you owned) knew everything about it already.

You two have written several theses on fellow vigilantes and villains (mostly ‘dumb’ ones like who has the best cake based on so and so criteria)

Damian is the best when it comes to bantering with you mid-fight. It’s the combined years of sass and assassin training. Went from plain insults to whole ass (not so) subtly being horny when you beat each other down.

He’s also the worst (best?) when it comes to your nicknames. He insists that you two use it on each other. Some exclusive while others he’s usually fine hearing from other mouths.

There was one point in time where you were called Kitten while the boys forced/bribed you to call them Daddy

Tim and Jason have tattoos of you/related to you.

For Jason it’s your name with a few paw prints, and for Tim it’s when he first fought you (and got his ass whooped)

After Jason came back and revealed himself to you, he tattooed the scratch marks you left him on his back after doing the deed.

Damian secretly practices doing henna so he can draw on you during your “wedding” since he doesn’t want anyone touching you. Sort of defeats the purpose, but go off king.

Being the thorough guy he is, he uses lab equipment to make his own blends.

Bruce? Bruce hates your ass. Sometimes it’s in a hatefuckey way but most of the time he blames you for corrupting his kids.

So he corrupted you in turn.

I feel like he gets off to cucking them honestly (blame that one comic) but if Reader is AFAB I wouldn’t be surprised if he impregnated them.

He’s a softie at heart when it comes to you though, courtesy of your similarities with Selina.

Speaking of, Talia adores you.

Like if there was anyone she would want with her son it was you.

She thinks the fact that you haven’t been put behind bars is a testament to your skill, and after getting over your similarity to her “rival in love” she would actively get you to be with her son.

Eventually she realizes she loves you more than Bruce and well, that’s a story for another fic.

You have at least a dozen trackers on you at all times.

Most of them you’ve ingested and pooped out.

It’s mostly Tim of course. But the duty of actually feeding you that stuff usually goes to Dick.

Dick has uh- somnophillia’ed you a fair bit after the break up.

He really, and I mean really likes to watch you sleep.

It reminds him of those ‘catnaps’ you’d take while watching over the Titans.

There would be times where he’d just be in a daze/in autopilot for hours reminiscing about your past together

His favorite memories to go back to were your first fight together, first kiss, and times under the sheets, and a date you guys had before in a festival/circus.

He never takes the antidote for Poison Ivy’s sex pollen and always comes to you for it, regardless of his or your relationship status.

Tim has at least a million typewritten chats with AI you, and around a few hundred hours of voice chats.

You did eventually take his virginity.

He came as soon as he was inside you/you were inside him.

You have been offered to be a part of the bat crew or a vigilante. But,

you massacred many after Jason’s supposed death and feel too guilty to call yourself anything other than a villain.

Chokers with bells. It’s a popular gift to give you. Especially ones that are custom made with expensive ass materials and engraving.

Sometimes Tim just gives you weapons.

Alfred is your best source of blackmail material.

You’ve actively tried cursing him (with immortality). You love the man.

He’s secretly the president of your official fanclub/fansite but you didn’t hear that from me.

You fight a lot with Damian’s pets. Like in a way that you turn into a literal cat and hiss at them.

And last but not least, you’re vv close with every member of the Teen Titans (besties with Rachel and Garfield)

NOT PROOFREAD!!!

@sophiethewitch1

[isaacswhy]

CAMPING WITH... ISAACWHY

isaacwhy x gn!reader headcanons (sfw + nsfw) heavily inspired by the group camping video series: nick tanner yumi larry MINORS DNI

More than likely, Isaac was the one to come to you with the idea of going camping. If it ever involved his friends, he would plan a secondary trip with just the two of you.

Isaac is an over-planner. He will buy a bunch of shit off Amazon to make sure you have your every need covered, to excess. Secretly a survivalist?

If you want to keep it 'realistic', he will be there with you on that 100%. No phones? He's down.

But, if you want to do a campsite but not take it too seriously, he thrives. He will have a mini cooler with sodas, food, campfire ready, et cetera. Isaac is happy to adapt.

Unsurprisingly, one of Isaac's first requests is to go swimming. He loves to stay active, and in the Texas heat swimming is the best way to do it and stay cool.

He's petty while swimming. He won't splash first, but if you splash him get ready for hell. If you're able to handle it, he won't hesitate to dunk you.

When you finally get out of the water, get ready for him to complain about his hair being wet. With his curls, it takes forever to dry. If you suggest cutting it, prepare for a death glare.

Isaac is happy to make the tent by himself, although he might ask for a helping hand every once in a while. He prioritizes you being happy and not stressing, so he tries to do everything.

He will also try to start the fire all by himself, but you might want to be on standby just in case he burns his tank top. He's not bad at lighting fires, it just takes a little more kindling than it should.

Speaking of doing things for you, prepare to sit back and let him cook, literally. He wants to make the meals. He may allow you to help, but let the chef do his work!

After the fire's going and the food's cooking, Isaac finds a giant fire log and bench presses it. Just to impress you, but he says it's because he needs to get his work out in.

He feasts. He will demolish any sort of food you give him. But, if you're still hungry after you've eaten yours, consider his food your own. He will offer it all.

Since he's not one to be on camera, he uses his phone (if you allow it) to take pictures and videos of you the whole time.

He also takes a lot of sunset photos and posts his favorite on his twitter.

When you finally turn in for the night, you get nice and cozy. Since Isaac's big and tall, you hardly need a blanket. Plus, he's clingy.

Being smushed together in a tent really only turns out one way. At first, it's harmless kisses to the back of your neck, and the next he's slowly rutting against you.

You don't have a hard time staying warm that night. Isaac's too rough and loves to hold you as close as he can.

To fit in the cramped space of the tent, he has no real problem practically folding you in half when he fucks you.

It's a bit uncomfortable, but the closeness really makes the experience much more intimate. You just hope no animals are drawn to all the noise you can't hold back.

Once you're both finished, and he makes sure you do, he's extra cuddly. Wraps his entire body around you to the point you have to lose the blanket. He's a big, warm softie.

You can't help but sleep well after all the action from the day. You wake up unsurprisingly sore and he gives you lots of apology kisses.

The next morning he makes breakfast for you while you're still getting up and makes sure you're well-fed.

He convinces you into one more trip down for a swim. As it turns out, there's nobody around.

Yeah, he fucks you on the shoreline. What a romantic!

After, you go back to the campsite and pack up your things. When you complain about being tired, he knows it's his fault and takes twice the amount of stuff you do.

The drive back, you can't help but take a fat nap. Dick too big.

He posts the highlights from your trip on his Instagram and twitter, and you take a day in the air-conditioned house as a prize. Mostly spent in bed cuddled up with your boyfriend.

And a shower together. You already know what happens.

[trueebeauty]

Hii i dont know if requests are open or not

If not then ignore! If open then can i request a fic or hcs about dating gitae? Thankk youu :)♡

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ notes ; hello! I take requests, and I would be happy enough to do yours! I did both a short fic and dating hc's! <33

𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐂'𝐒 : 𝐆𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐌

𝖦𝖤𝖭𝖤𝖱𝖠𝖫 - regular, daily

» Gitae has absolutely no clue what it takes to be a decent boyfriend. Arguments are practically your national anthem, and he solves problems by ignoring tf out of you.

» Boyfriend Skills? Nonexistent. He's more like a grumpy roommate who occasionally throws money at you. (Hey, at least he pays the bills?)

» He may not communicate like a normal human, but he sure knows how to shower you with gifts.

» Physical affection? Never heard of it. If you try to snuggle up, prepare to be launched across the room like a ragdoll. (No judgment on how you interpret that.)

» Love Bites (Literally). Be prepared for black and blue marks – a badge of honor (or a cry for help, depending on your perspective).

» One minute he's a raging inferno, the next he's eerily silent. You never know what to expect, which is both terrifying and weirdly exhilarating.

» You're the brain, he's the brawn.

𝖲𝖥𝖶 - his soft side (?)

» Despite the chaos, Gitae somehow guarantees you a good night's sleep. 

» Hand-Holding Enthusiast. Okay, so he might grunt disapprovingly, but deep down, he kinda likes holding hands. It's the little things, right?

» Hair Play (on His Terms). Consider it a major victory if he lets you graze his hair. Don't get too grabby, though – he might just cut your fingers off.

» Your Personal ATM. This man's bank account is practically yours. 

» Gentle Giant (Ish)---not really. Believe it or not, he can be surprisingly sweet… around you, at least. (He won’t kill you, so that’s kind of sweet. Just don't test your luck.)

» He needs you.

𝖭𝖲𝖥𝖶 - not really nsfw ; only a little

» A whore. Let's Just Say He Earns His Nickname. AHEM. Moving on.

» Chivalry is definitely dead in the bedroom. 

» Makeouts? Those lips come with a price – be prepared for some serious bleeding (blood kink???)

» PDA? Not Exactly. He might sneak a grab here and there during meetings. Just channel your inner calmness (or give him a good whack – he secretly digs it).

» IS DEFINITELY A BIG BOY.

» Surprisingly Gentle (the First Time). Who knew the big, bad KOS could be such a softie… at least initially?

So, is he your dream man? Probably not. But hey, at least life with him is never boring! 

You could only breathe in deeply as you forced yourself not to break out into a scream. Under the polished mahogany table, a very familiar set of hands were grazing you – none other than Gitae's. They moved with practiced ease, sending shivers down your spine in a way that had nothing to do with the seriousness of the situation.

One of your members, was in mid-rant, laying out the latest intel on a rival gang. His voice boomed across the conference room, punctuated by the occasional slam of his fist on the table.  Every fiber of your being should have been focused on the intel, formulating your own response. But all you could manage was a glazed stare, your mind fixated on the subtle dance unfolding beneath the table.

Gitae's touch was infuriating. It was a blatant disregard for the seriousness of the meeting, a silent taunt that only you could understand. The barely noticeable smug smirk you knew played on his lips only fueled the fire. You yearned to reach over the table and slap it right off his face. The urge to retaliate, to prove you weren't some pushover, warred with the delicious tension building within you. Taking a steadying breath, you tried to refocus. "...ambush our shipment at the docks," he finished, glaring around the table for confirmation.

A chorus of gruff agreements filled the room, but you remained silent. You needed a distraction, something to break Gitae's hold on your attention.  Feigning deep consideration, you cleared your throat.  "-random name-," you started, your voice carefully measured.  "What about the informant we have planted in their operation?" The room quieted. You felt Gitae's touch falter for a moment, a flicker of surprise crossing your peripheral vision—a small victory.  You continued, detailing a plan that utilized the informant, successfully steering the conversation away from your current predicament. As he elaborated on your idea, a spark of approval glinted in his eyes.  Behind you, you felt a slight pressure under the table.  Was it a lingering caress or a silent apology?  

You couldn't be sure, but a small smile played on your lips.  Later, after the meeting, you'd have your chance to settle the score with Gitae.  And who knows, maybe you'd even give him a taste of his own medicine.

[headkiss]

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

[samuelsdean]

Boyfriend!Sam Winchester Headcanons

warning(s): NONE, this is just purely tooth-rotting fluff!

author’s notes: i literally wrote these at 3 am and had to pause every now & then bc i had to scream into my pillow with how cute sam is (look at him!!) i know he’ll do these things (i know him personally) because he’s the biggest softie. anyway, i’m done rambling! i hope you can see the vision, my vision! also tell me if you want me to write more of these because i will <3 just send me an ask!

- study dates !! he’s a giant nerd but you love him for it

- not a big fan of pda :( BUT whenever you’re out studying he sits beside you! why? so he could hold your hand underneath the table (he’s clingy like that)

- his puppy dog eyes… your #1 weakness especially when he’s super duper tired :( and is feeling needy for you he just shoots you THAT look and asks you to scratch his hair with matching eskimo kisses until he falls asleep with his face tucked in your neck (and before i forget he likes to smell your neck because you find it ticklish & it flusters you he likes seeing you blush)

- gives the best ! hugs ! he’s a giant so whenever he hugs you it’s like you’re being tucked into the most comfortable bed ever and when he hugs you likes putting his head on top of yours and kissing it too & THE BACK HUGS ARE PHENOMENAL even though he has to bend significantly to reach your shoulder (what can i say? the man’s huge) he does so :( and he places his head on top of your shoulder and kisses it or your neck

- he likes kissing your cheeks bc you turn beet red every single time and he thinks it’s cute and when he’s running late or something but you’re busy doing god knows what he just randomly pops in and kisses your cheek before saying bye and smirk with a matching squish of your reddened face

- KNOWS THE SIDEWALK RULE (duh) !!!! whenever you both are out & about and you’re busy rambling abt whatever to him he listens intently but is also very observant about where you are so when you both reach the street especially a busy one he just holds you by the shoulders moves you to the side and then wraps an arm around you then continues nodding at whatever you say it’s become second nature to you both that when you’re in the streets he’s next to the cars and you’re on the safe side of the sidewalk

[redhood414]

okay so I have a idea for a Damian Wayne x reader if you are up for it (don’t worry it’s tooth rotting fluff)

say Damian is introducing yn to all of his pets and accidentally mentions Goliath his giant dragon bat pet and after hearing he has one more pet they have never met they beg him to introduce them to Goliath and he hesitantly does worrying they will freak out but instead fall’s absolutely in love with goliath and even cuddles him treating him like a puppy making Damian fall more in love with yn

or

maybe like a one shot or something where Damian and yn are trying to introduce their pets to each like Titus and yns pet meeting for the first time since their relationship is becoming more serious but the thing is yns dog is like my pet poodle, dottie, that is more calm, quiet, sweet, and gives everyone a warm and welcoming energy when meeting her, and thinks Titus is scary but then Titus does something sweet like giving yns dog a bone, a Ty of his he likes, or even saving them surprising Damian from the sweet gesture since Titus isn’t usually friendly to other dogs and yn loves Titus even more now and it ends with both dogs becoming friends and yn and Damian more in love then ever

I love this idea so much! Thanks for sharing your idea with me!

Warnings: non. Just fluff and Damian being a cutie.

Pets and love.

You and Damian have been dating for a while now. He's changed over the years as well, became a big softie towards you and very protective. Damian was the kind of lover who was only soft for you, like come on, you're not going to expect him to be soft for other people? People. Not pets. For pets he's always soft, but somehow you haven't had the chance to meet his pets.

Damian was laying with you in his bed while your head was on his chest, listening peacefully to his heartbeat while one off his hands were going through your hair and the other was on your waist. Suddenly you noticed a picture, two dogs were on it. "Hey babe?" You asked, turning your head to look up at him. Damian looked down on you and raised an eyebrow. "Yes, beloved? What is it?" He asked, not stopping with stroking your hair. "You never told me you had pets." You said, going to sit up and pointing at the picture on his desk with the dogs. "Oh, haven't I? My apologies, beloved." He sits up as well, hugging you from behind. "On the picture, those are Ace and Titus." You smiled excitedly. "Can I meet them?? Pretty, please?" You looked at him with your oh so beautiful eyes he can't say no to. He can say no to a lot off things and he's normally easy to say no to someone or something but to those eyes? No way.

So here you two were, now downstairs. "Alfred, where are Titus and Ace?" Damian asked Alfred. Alfred looked in surprise at you. "Ah, miss y/n. I didn't know you were over to visit." He smiled politely and gave a nod. You smiled back. "Damian invited me since he knows I'm in holiday for a while. To spend some quality time with him." In the corner of your eyes you could see Damian getting a pit pinky on his cheeks and you couldn't help but chuckle, kissing his cheeks. Damian cleared his throat and focused on Alfred. "So, as I was asking, do you know where they are?" "I believe master Dick and master Tim are outside, playing with them. Master Dick forced master Tim to take a break so he took Ace and Titus as an excuse." Alfred said, nodding to outside. You grinned when you heard his brothers' names. Dick and Tim were great guys. Before Damian could say anything you grabbed his hand and dragged him. "Come on!!"

When arrived outside, you could see two dogs chasing a ball and a stick. Dick encouraged one off the dogs. "Come on Ace, go fetch!!" Damian and you joined them. Tim looked at you and smiled. "Y/n, good to see you again. How are you?" Dick looked over as well with surprise and then hugged you and gave a teasing smirk at Damian who rolled his eyes. "I'm good!" You said with a smile. "Soo what's up?" Dick asked, looking at Damian. "Y/n wanted to meet my pets." At hearing Damian's name Ace rushed towards him, jumping up on Damian to give him a big lick on his cheek. Your heart melted at the sight. Damian may not be fond of people, but animals? He's the softest. Titus came also, greeting Damian as well. When they saw you, they started sniffing you and licking your hand, Titus jumped up first to try and lick your face. Damian frowned. "Titus, down." You shook your head. "It's fine!" You laughed, petting them both. "By the way, Alfred knocked something off you over today, you should really watch him." Tim said to Damian. You raised an eyebrow in confusion, the butler, knocking something over?? Dick saw your confused expression and laughed. "He means Alfred the cat." "You have a cat??" Your eyes sparkled as you looked at Damian. "Yes, I do. He's probably with the Bat-cow." Your eyes sparkled. And a cow too?! Does he have every animal alive??

In the stable when you saw the cat and the cow you couldn't keep your hands off them both. The cat purred against your leg and the cow nudged it's head against your hand to per her. "Were those all your pets, baby?" You ask Damian ask you continue patting the two animals. Damian shook his head and started too say something. "No, I have Goli-...no that's all I mean.." He cleared his throat. You can't know he has a pet dragon. It'll scare you away and of all the things in his life, you're the one thing he can't loose. "Goli...?" You encourage. Having heard a half name. But not fully yet. Damian was hesitating to tell you. "So, beloved, if I tell you this, you can't tell anyone or be scared okay?" You nod, frowning as you listen to him. "His name is Goliath. He's my dragon." Your eyes widen and you stare in surprise at him. "Your...what now?" You weren't screaming so that was good. "Yes...uh..it's a long story on how I met him. I can show you a picture though. Of him" you nod your head with excitement and lean over his shoulder to look with him at his phone. "Aw he's so cute!!" Damian tried to surpress a grin when you said that, but failed. He gave you a kiss on your cheek. Did he tell you already he loved you? Oh yes probably, why not say it anyways?

"I love you more then anything, beloved."

[kishibe-kisser]

Car Sex (Aoi Todo, Sukuna, Toji Fushiguro) pt 2

pt. 1 (Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Nanami Kento, Mahito)

Tags: Todo x gn!neutral, neck kisses, riding, scratching, Sukuna x gn!reader, choking, fingering, public, slight voyerism, Toji x gn!reader, road head (dont do that tho stay safe), handjob

Aoi Todo: Todo was big, intimidating, scary to some even, especially at first glance. However anyone that got to know him longer than 2 minutes could see that he was a giant softy. Though he liked to reserve that side of himself for you, always going out of his way to put together amazing dates, dates that would most definitely surprise his peers.

The back of his car was decked out in blankets and pillows, making a small cozy bed area for you both to lay down and watch a movie. You were in total disbelief, even as you laid there in his arms, watching a movie. "You're so sweet." You mumbled, placing a kiss at the base of his neck as you wrapped yourself around him further. Todo tensed up, feeling his cheeks heat up at your kiss. You just wanted to thank him, for always treating you so well.

Kissing his neck again, your lips lingered sucking the skin softly to leave a mark. "Keep doing that and I won't be able to stay sweet." He grumbled and you smiled against his skin. He tilted your chin up, capturing your lips for an intense kiss. His tongue slipping into your mouth as he pulled you into his lap with one arm.

The movie continued to play as he ridded you of your clothes, leaning back in the car so that you could straddle his waist and sink down onto him. Todo was just so big, in every way that he took up most of the space in car, this was the most comfortable way for you both to get off.

His hand gripping your ass as you bounced on his cock, his groans being slightly muffled by the way he had his face burried into your neck. Your nails scratched at his shoulders to hold onto something, your thighs burning from the cramped position and riding him but it all hurt so good. You were absolutely overwhelmed.

"This is why I treat you well baby, you're always so greatfull."

Sukuna: You weren't entirely sure what he had planned when he asked you to drive to the parking garage. Undoubtedly something sinister, but you didn't have the heart to ask. So you simply listened to his command, parking on the 2nd floor looking out over the city.

"You'll do anything I say, won't you?" Sukuna asked, reaching over from the passenger seat to hold your chin. While you hated to admit, he wasn't wrong and it was harder to tell him that when he was looking at you like that. "Yes." You sighed, feeling his thumb run over your lip and dip into your mouth. "Good, push the seat back." You did as you were told and looked at him. "Now let me slide behind you." He added on, and you lifted your ass off the seat to let him sit behind you.

He had you in his lap, undoing your pants with one hand while the other crept under your shirt. His tongue traced over the side of your neck and you couldn't help fidgeting. "Stay still." He grumbled, hand finding your throat as the other ghosted over your core.

"Why'd we come here?" You choked out, moaning as his fingers teased you. Sukuna chuckled, tightening the grip on your throat as he plunged his fingers into you. "Just because." He started, pace picking up as you gasped for air. You looked at him through the rear view mirror, taking note of your own expression and how pleased he looked with the situation.

"Just because?" You moaned out, your voice getting louder the closer you got. Sukuna laughed again, feeling you tighten around his fingers and hearing your voice get louder.

"Just because I like thinking anyone can walk past and see you all fucked out because of me."

Toji Fushiguro: God damn traffic jams, Toji absolutely hated them. They costed money, drained gas and wasted time, time he might've had, but they were annoying none the less. Especially when you were sitting there looking as good as you did, Toji was gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were turning white.

"What's got you so stressed?" You asked, stroking his forearm gently. It felt like all of his sense were heightened and the touches lit a fire in his lower stomach. "Because I keep thinking about your pretty lips wrapped around my cock." He barked, anger jumping out of the situation. "And this fucking traffic jam is keeping that from happening." He added on and you had to stifle a laugh.

"Bold of you to assume I was going to do it anyways." You teased and he shot you a look that made goosebumps coat your body. "Anyways, who says that the traffic jam is stopping me?" You added on, reaching over to undo his pants.

He was painfully hard already, just thinking about it and gripping the wheel even harder. "You're gonna suck me dick like this?" He asked and you smiled, pulling his cock out of his pants and jerking him off slowly. Toji's head fell back for a moment, not noticing the cars in front of him starting to drive again causing the car behind you to honk.

He groaned again, starting to drive as you leaned over and took him into your mouth, your tongue swirling over his head as the car stopped again. "Fuck that feels good." He praised, reaching down to grab your hair. You stopped him, smiling while you placed his hand back on the wheel.

"Nuh uh mister. You keep your eyes on the road and hands on the wheel."

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Out of curiosity, how would (insert character of tour choice here!) react to being asked to kill a giant bug because reader is WAY too scared to do it themself?

Heehee, ahh this is so fun! (I'm sorry, I chose everyone basically. Also I'm a big softie for insects, and pretty much everyone is just taking them outside.)

oscar isaac charcters x GN!Reader • Rating: PG •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• ko-fi •

Warnings: bugs, bug death

Word Count: 681

_____________________________________

Steven: Will NOT be killing the bug, he will be putting a cup/glass/bowl over it and putting it safely outside.

Marc: Literally just grabs it with his hands and puts it outside, usually via the window if he can't be bothered to put his shoes on.

Jake: Will very seriously pretend to get out his gun to shoot the offending insect until you laugh. 

Nathan: Rolls his eyes and says "bugs are important for the ecosystem” and “the only bugs I deal with are computer ones." He has a robot to sort out real-life insects that get in the house for him. (He will never admit it but he doesn't want to touch the bug, even through the barrier of a glass.)

Anselm: His third cousin twice removed has the job title of 'insect remover'.

Cecil: Tries to get the bug in a glass, accidentally puts the cup down too quickly and cuts it in half with the rim. Has a complete breakdown over it that you will need to console him for for the next three hours. 

Club!Blue: He'll make you do it yourself, and watch you while you do it.

Orderly!Blue: Please do not ask him because not only is he gonna catch the bug, but he's gonna put it on you in some kind of twisted aversion therapy. 

Jack: He's... he's eaten the bug.

Santiago: Will carry you out of the room before he removes the offending insect for your well-being (it doesn't matter how much you weigh). Will ignore when you say carrying you isn't good for his knees, will kiss your cheeks and forehead repeatedly.

Shimmer!Kane: Will just look at you a little confused for a minute or two. Then he'll look at the bug, somehow the bug just walks out of the house straight away seemingly of its own volition. 

King John: He's not gonna do fuck all about the bug. But he will kiss you and pull you into his lap until you've completely forgotten about the bug. 

Rydal: He's gonna tease the hell out of you, 'why can't you deal with the bug?' Then he sees the insect himself and is like, 'oh no, no no.' You both have to sort out this problem together, basically attached to the hip the whole time. 

Laurent: He's going to shoo the bug away and out this a large paintbrush. And then grin like a little shit when he's done it. Will expect kisses as a reward.

Poe: Does it without thinking, just gets the bug and takes it outside if it's not gonna be a threat to either of you. Doesn't even realise it's a big deal until after you hug him as a thank you. 

William: There is never a bug for you to ask him to get rid of, he's made sure the place is insect free already. 

Miguel: Miguel-what have you got against bugs?-O'Hara. Will stay completely deadpan until you get flustered and then will crack a cheeky smile. 

Bud: He's already swatted it with his newspaper before you even have to ask.

Richard: Doesn't want to hurt the bug if it's not dangerous and will take it outside for you. Will also get his dog to 'patrol' around the house for you to keep you safe and protected from any other insects that try to encroach. 

Robbie: Is so happy to be helpful, and just wants to make sure you're content and feeling safe.

Jonathan: Is so used to taking bugs out of his daughter's room that he'll do it without a second thought.

Leto: Will chuckle and tease you a little about it, but he likes that you asked him and he also likes that he can do this for you.

Basil: You're gonna have to save him from the bug, I'm afraid.

Abel: Thoroughly amused that you ask him to, won't make a big deal out of it but likes that he can sort this out of you. Makes him feel wanted. 

_________________

Thank you for reading!

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[daisykihannie]

can i request yunho for #97 and jongho for #8 pls? 🫶🏻

97.) They want cuddles but you hate skinship

Pairing: Yunho x Reader

Warnings: Fluff

“Jagi~” you could hear your boyfriend whining as he walked down the hallway from his office to where you were currently, sprawled out on the couch in your living room. “Jagiiyyyaaaaa!” he whined again when you didn’t respond. You hummed in acknowledgment but continued scrolling on tiktok, not moving or looking away from the screen. “Baby?” he called out softly while standing by the foot of the couch now. You could only see where he was from the corner of your eye.

“Yes my love?” you asked and finally looked away from your phone to make eye contact with him. He had a huge pout on his lips and he was giving you wet puppy dog eyes. He stuck both his arms out straight in front of his body, towards you, and made grabby hands. “Can we pleeeaaassseeee cuddle? Just for a little bit?” he whined again, not dropping the kicked puppy act.

He was well aware that you weren’t a fan of skin ship, otherwise he probably would’ve already flopped onto the couch and caged your body under his full weight. “Is something wrong baby?” you asked and turned off your phone, placing it on the coffee table so that you could give Yunho your full attention.

He nodded, still pouting, but didn’t offer up more of an explanation than that. He’s a softy with an affinity for physical affection. Odd how someone with a love language of physical touch ended up with someone who’d rather chop their foot off with a rusty butter knife than cuddle. It’s not that you necessarily HATED skinship but you could easily list a million other ways you’d rather show your affection and love than that.

You let out a sigh when your giant puppy of a boyfriend didn’t continue further with what had him so upset and opened your arms, inviting him to cling to you. The pout and puppy dog eyes were instantly replaced with the biggest smile you’d ever seen, so big it turned his eyes into tiny crescent shapes. He wasted no time in flopping his body onto your smaller one and letting himself become dead weight on top of you.

You let out a huff when the wind was punched from your lungs but recovered quickly, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. He slid his hands under your shoulders and used his hands to grab the top of them, clinging to you contently. He pushed his cheek into your chest and let out a sigh of relief, at this angle you were able to plant a soft peck to the top of his head and take a moment to enjoy his scent.

“How does your hair always smell so good even after working all day?” you mumble into his hair, slightly tickling his scalp and he erupted into soft giggles at the feeling. “I guess I just have some really good shampoo and conditioner.” he beamed in response, allowing himself to relax and get lost in your hold. You two stayed like this for a while, just enjoying each others company. You may hate skinship but it’s worth it to see your boyfriend so at peace and happy.

To him, your touch was healing and is the only thing able to wash away all the stress and frustration he feels on a daily basis, especially with tours and comebacks. It all tends to get overwhelming to him and being held by you is like pushing a reset button, wiping his mind and filling his chest with that warm feeling of love and adoration he gets knowing that you’re doing this for him. That even with you not enjoying cuddles and skinship like he does, you push your distaste aside for him because you love him that much.

“So, now that you’re more relaxed, can you tell me what’s wrong?” you ask softly, your hold loosing ever so slightly. You hear him whine and feel his grip on your shoulders tighten before he speaks. “Only if we can stay like this while I talk. Just a little longer, please?” his voice is muffled by where he’d pushed his face into your chest in his own way to keep you from letting go.

“Okay, we can stay like this. I won’t let go until you’re ready for me to. I promise.” your tone was reassuring and comforting. Yunho could feel his heart skip a beat and tears began to sting the corners of his eyes. These are the moments that truly cement Yunho’s desire to marry you one day.

[kamotecue]

grumpy and her sunshine ❃ f. rolfö

pairing: fridolina rolfö x reader

summary: you were known as the stone-cold midfielder, but to your national teammates, they knew how much of a softie you are, especially for a certain forward. danish!reader ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

to others, you weren’t seen as a soft-hearted person. you weren’t one for smiling in public, you’ve only shown your smile to frido, the love of your life.

you met through a certain captain, pernille was the one to introduce you to her. it happened during an international friendly, the danish captain had learned of your crush after kathrine had let it slip in the locker room.

since then the two of you would go on dates, you would surprise her with gifts, as it was your love language. however, hers was words of affirmation and quality time.

it was off-season for the club, hence you spent a few days in barcelona. you were sitting on a bean bag chair that you persuaded frido to buy.

“love, what are you doing?” frido asked, as you snickered at her look. she wore a pair of your glasses (it didn’t have any grade, so it didn’t affect her eye sight), her hair was in a lovely but in a messy bun.

“i’m just reading a book.” you said, waving up a book you brought, it was something you would do. every night, you’d read a chapter to frido before you’d both go to bed.

“should we order take out?” frido asked, as you gave her a chuckle.

“love, between the two of us, you’re the better cook.” frido commented, as you gave her an innocent look.

“go ahead and order.” you said, giving her a soft look as she got her phone and ended up ordering pizza. when she was done, you gave her a hum.

“if you told me a few years ago that i was dating you, i wouldn’t have believed it.” frido teased, as you jokingly looked at her offended.

“i must have you know, i’m quite charming that’s why you fell for me.” you laughed at her look, but she shook her head with a small smile.

“you really are, n/n.” you gave her a small smirk, before patting your thigh. she gave you a small look, but ended up sitting on your thighs, while you both engaged in a small talk.

“i used to be a little intimidated by you, did you know? everyone was so surprised when they found out” as you gave her a small laugh, it was amusing when she would tell stories.

“were they that surprised when they found out? besides, it’s not like i care what they say about us, they probably have sad love lives anyway.” you joked as frido slapped your arm that was around her waist.

“n/n.” she said, as you gave her a lopsided grin.

“alright, maybe i do care. i want to prove that i’m worth it, you’re the only one i have a soft spot for.” you commented as she smiled brightly.

“you’re such a little giant, but i love you n/n.” she gave you a little kiss on the crown of your head.

“i love you too, my sunshine.” you said, a lot of fans said that you both fitted the sunshine and grumpy trope. it made you laugh in amusement, but you didn’t deny it.

[sweetercalypso]

Candlelight || Joel Miller

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: When a power outage interrupts your Christmas preparations, neighbor!Joel Miller appears on your doorstep to make sure you’re alright

Notes: no warnings! enemies to lovers, swearing, one kiss, Hallmark level fluff, grumpy neighbor Joel turned into a big softie by the power of Christmas

The holiday season is a time to celebrate the values that bring people together – generosity, friendship, gratitude. It provides an opportunity to reflect on the things you’re thankful for, the things that matter most.  

It seems ironic that your Christmas will be spent in the dark.

Just as you’re leaning over your dining table to light the collection of candles meant to bring light into your home, the sound of knocking interrupts your focus. You grumble under your breath and stumble towards the entryway, hoping to greet the electrician you’d called some time ago, or a neighbor coming to keep you updated on the problem.

When you throw the door open, however, you’re faced with the last person you’d expect to see standing on the other side.

“Joel? What’re you doing here?”

This time of year, it seems like every house on the block has adorned their lawn with as many dazzling, ornate decorations as possible. Giant flashing Christmas trees, snowmen that move and sing carols through the night, blinking life-sized reindeer lining every driveway – your street must look like a landing strip to planes passing overhead.

It was a tradition that your entire neighborhood partook in, always competing to have the biggest, the brightest, display on the street. The only house that wasn’t decorated for the holidays was the one across from yours, belonging to the infamous grump of the neighborhood – Joel Miller.

He’s lived on this street longer than you have, so you’re not sure if he’d always been this much of a scrooge, but you’d like to think he was born with the heart of an ill-tempered Grinch. You’d never seen so much as a single Christmas tree lighting up his windows.

Maybe he just doesn’t celebrate, you’d told yourself. There are plenty of reasons not to enjoy the holidays.

You were fine to leave it at that until Joel Miller himself showed up on your doorstep, huffing about how much energy your lights were using up. You wonder if he took the time to chastise your other neighbors for their decorations, too.

It turned out that he was right, because the night before Christmas, every light in the neighborhood sputtered a weak final flicker and then gave out entirely, leaving the entire street shrouded in an empty, quiet darkness.

You’d been putting the finishing touches on your Christmas tree when it happened, tinsel clinging to your sweater in tiny strands of silver and gold. You swore under your breath and searched the house for enough candles and matches to light your home until the power came back on, hopefully sometime before the night was over.

This was not the Christmas surprise you were hoping for.

You’d just gotten your candles set up when Joel Miller appeared on your porch, a tightlipped frown pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“I told you,” he says as soon as you open the door. “All these damn lights – it’s just too much.”

“You came over here just to tell me that you were right?”

He rubs a hand over his brow and sighs. “No, I just- I warned you that this would happen, y’know.”

A bitter chill sweeps through the doorway, causing you both to shiver from the sudden cold. Without any power, you doubt your house will stay warm very long, and you made a mental note to grab a jacket as soon as Joel leaves.

“I know you think I’m just here to nag but… really, I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“Oh.”

You’d butted heads with your neighbor more times than you could count, so his sudden interest in your wellbeing comes as a surprise. A warmth creeps up your neck when you picture him trekking across the street in this weather just to check that you were okay.

“M’fine,” you shrug and flex your fingers where they rest on the doorknob. “Just a bit spooked, I guess.”

Maybe it’s some unseen force of festive generosity, or maybe you’re moved by his unexpected kindness, but a little voice in your head calls you to speak before you fully understand what you’re asking. “Would you wanna come in for a little while? Just until the power comes back on.”

Joel furrows his brow in question but eventually nods, another unexpected twist in your evening.

“Sure, I’d like that.”

You’re not sure who’s more surprised by his answer, but you move to let him inside and he offers a half-hearted smile as he passes through the doorway.

“Are you sure this is alright? I don’t want to intrude.”

He brushes the fallen snow from his messy curls and leans down to unlace his boots, already making himself comfortable before you can respond.

“Of course. I’ll light some candles so it’s not so dark in here.”

You flit past him in the direction of the living room and Joel pauses in the foyer to remove his heavy winter coat. Your own jacket hangs on a hook by the door, and as Joel sheds his own outer layers, he thinks about how complete the scene looks with his coat and flannel hanging in the empty spot next to yours.

He shakes the thought from his head and shuffles blindly in the direction you’d disappeared in, rounding the corner to find a handful of lit candles flickering idly in every corner of your living room. A blend of vanilla and cinnamon and something he can’t name fills his chest with a distinctly nostalgic warmth, a feeling he’s been searching for longer than he can remember.

“I guess the whole neighborhood’s gone dark, huh?”

He nods once before he remembers that you can’t see him, responding with a clipped ‘yeah’ that feels too harsh for this intimate setting.

“I- uh,” he clears his throat, rocking on the soles of his feet to ease his stiff posture. “I wanted to check with you first, but I assume it’s the same problem all the way down the block.”

You tilt your head in thought, replaying his words to make sure you’d heard him right. “You came here first?”

“Well, yeah” he says, as if you should’ve been expecting his answer. “I wanted to see that you were okay.”

A stretch of silence follows his admission, and he wonders if you’d somehow left the room without him knowing. Instead, he’s shocked to find you suddenly in front of him, placing a hand on his arm with a gentle touch that makes him shudder. “Joel, that’s so sweet.”

He shrugs indifferently, though he’s grateful that the low light of the burning candles hides the reddening of his cheeks. “Just knew you were alone, that’s all.”

You’re almost fooled by his impassive response, but there’s an unfamiliar waver in his voice, a telltale sign that there was more to be said. You’d ignore it for now, but you hoped to revisit his sentiment again some other time.

“So you came to celebrate with me, then?” you tease, enjoying this new tender side of the man you’d once thought to be incapable of softness.

He scoffs and shakes his head, though he doesn’t pull away when you sidle up against him. ‘Course not. Just being a good neighbor.”

You’re about to respond when Joel leans down and presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth before turning away to disguise his sheepish grin. He’s happy that you could see past his high walls, even if he’s not ready to admit it.

“Whatever the reason, I’m glad you came over,” you tell him, content expression warmed by the weak orange flicker of the candlelight. Maybe he’s not such a Grinch after all.

[pianocat939]

hearing you out on the yan pavitr

YES PLEASE- ok I'm gonna start out this new thing where I separate things for romantic + platonic so people can scroll to different sections. (I'm such a good business person- /j)

I will copy and paste some of the headcanons because they apply both ways. So don't bother reading both unless if you want to because for the most part they're the same (with some light editing)

Tw: hardly any tbh-, delusional softie, uh- and breaking in

Yandere Pavitr Prabhakar

Type: Delusional + Clingy (This is really fucking obv ngl)

Romantic

Listen- He literally gives off so much delusional that I can't even tell you why he's delusional because it's literally written all over him omg. Now, the thing he is delusional about is you love him back. It's not in a malicious way; he genuinely thinks you love him.

He's not in any sort of way problematic or concerning with his actions/intentions. He'll be all caring and constantly giving you support. He's the type of guy who wakes up at five in the morning to go buy you a bouquet of flowers to greet you with when you get up.

If you try to push him away or express that you don't love him he just believes you're a troubled person and need more support in your life. Which means more affection from him. He is your therapist. He will be whether you like it or not because he is a softie and will continue to be a softie.

The only time I can see him getting the slightest bit aggressive is if he gets jealous. I'm not entirely sure yet because we haven't seen too much of any trauma or negative backstory to him (Uncle Ben's death canon event doesn't fucking count). I think he's about a medium level when it comes to how easily he gets jealous. Even then I don't think he would outwardly hurt anyone unless they've overstepped a boundary of his. He'll give them a slight threat or tie them up in webs for a while.

Now if anyone hurts you? Bro is going crazy- he will do everything to make the person surrender or maybe even die (if they've caused him enough anger) He'll worry so much if you get hurt. I wouldn't say he would overreact, but he definitely worries.

He is physically affectionate 100%. He will sneak in your window at night for snuggles. Imagine yourself standing at your window one night, knowing he'll come. He arrives and is about to slip inside when you frown and tell him no. He is going to give you the most heartbreaking face known to mankind.

He WILL call you embarrassing/cringe affectionate names. You can't convince me he doesn't.

"Jasmine flower! Look at the stuffie I got you!" *proceeds to hold up giant elephant stuffie*

Platonic

He literally gives off so much delusional that I can't even tell you why he's delusional because it's literally written all over him omg. Now, the thing he is delusional about is he thinks you wanna be friends with him. It's not in a malicious way; he genuinely thinks you guys are besties and constantly hang out. (tbh I feel anyone would be friends with him???)

He's not in any sort of way problematic or concerning with his actions/intentions. He'll be all caring and constantly giving you support. He's the type of guy who wakes up at five in the morning to go buy you your favourite drink or line up for a limited edition product.

If you try to push him away or express that you don't wanna be friends with him, he just believes you're a troubled person and need more support in your life. Which means more affection and suggesting hangouts or giving gifts from him. He is your therapist. He will be whether you like it or not, because he is a softie and will continue to be a softie.

The only time I can see him getting the slightest bit aggressive is if he gets jealous. I'm not entirely sure yet because we haven't seen too much of any trauma or negative backstory to him (Uncle Ben's death canon event doesn't fucking count). I think he's about a medium level when it comes to how easily he gets jealous. Even then I don't think he would outwardly hurt anyone unless they've overstepped a boundary of his. He'll give them a slight threat or tie them up in webs for a while.

Now if anyone hurts you? Bro is going crazy- he will do everything to make the person surrender or maybe even die (if they've caused him enough anger) He'll worry so much if you get hurt. I wouldn't say he would overreact, but he definitely worries.

He is a clinger 100%. He will sneak in your window at night for a hug and to talk about random things (he giggles a lot). Imagine yourself standing at your window one night, knowing he'll come. He arrives and is about to slip inside when you frown and tell him no. He is going to give you the most heartbreaking face known to mankind.

He WILL call you embarrassing/cringe affectionate names. You can't convince me he doesn't. Like Pookie Bear or just cringe names to call your best friend platonically cuz it's funny.

"My rat! Look! I have- WEBS!" *proceeds to shoot webs like it's a discovery even though he's known for six months*

——————————————————

That's all I got for now-

I still don't like Gwen.

- Celina