#they are buying christmas presents for friends and family

[its-ezraaa]

*kicks in the door* Guess who is still alive??? Literally 2 months late but..

day 29: 10 or 20-year time skip!

[redrobin-detective]

I hate the commercialization of Christmas centered around present giving, that I am socially forced to buy things for both people I love and people I want to choke on a starburst. I hate the forced, fake cheer around as people pretend they’re being good and charitable by buying overly priced junk just to tick off a box on their to do list. I hate that most of the time, people are too stressed by having to buy so many people gifts that often they just buy whatever just to have something to wrap which the receiver doesn’t even want resulting in a circle jerk of stress for everyone involved with no net gain.

[nightmarecity]

i missed 3 weeks of work bc i was sick so im thinking of opening up a few $20usd commissions. ill make a post later!

[felinecorpse]

Homophobic that I'm low as fuck on money during holidays when all the pretty stuff is on sale

[deyassification]

picking out a good fanfiction to read after i finish this essay like a snobby frenchman picking a wine out of his cellar

[writingsbychlo]

BUY ME PRESENTS | draco malfoy

summary; draco loves you, and you love him. he just needs a little push to make things official. OR, draco malfoy fighting for his life when he realises just how much everyone wants his girl.

word count; 8928

notes; this is based on christmas eve, but I'm posted a couple days later! this fic puts us half way through our slytherin boy holidays! I'm not sure how the one I expected to be the shortest became the longest one so far. like, seriously, I know I keep saying this but wtf? why can't I write a short fic?

Dinner had already been served by the time you made it to the Grand Hall, the smells of roasted meats and seasoned potatoes filling the air, your mouth watering as you navigated between the throngs of people. Your seat had been saved, of course. A spot on the bench between Draco and Daphne, and as you neared, your friends noticed, smiles rising and waves in your direction. 

Sinking into your seat, you pressed a kiss to the cheek of the blond boy beside you, his face tipping up to receive it and lips twisting into a smile, attention moving to you as you sat. 

“Good day?”

“Better now that it’s over.” You smiled, a chuckle falling from him, and his hand came to rest upon your thigh, squeezing comfortingly while you helped yourself to a plate of whatever food was left. “What are we talking about, what did I miss?”

“Not much. Just Theo telling us all about Christmas in Italy.” Mattheo rolled his eyes, as though you all hadn't heard this exact same speech since that very first Christmas you’d become friends. Most of the group seemed to have simply tuned it out, laughing and nodding at the correct times as they whispered their own conversations. 

A swipe of a thumb over your thigh as you finished filling your plate with food, and you shifted your attention to Draco. “So, what are your Christmas plans, Dray?”

Shuffling a little bit closer now that your plate was full, his arm moved to lay across your shoulders instead, letting you snuggle up into his side. “Oh, you know, the usual.” 

He smiled, and your world seemed to get a little bit brighter, his lips brushing your hairline as he left a barely-present kiss there. 

“Typical Malfoy-family Christmas. I get to do the tour with my parents, visiting every other rich-arsehole couple they know. Christmas Eve party. The pleasure of my father’s annual ‘you’re growing up now, son, it’s time to get serious about the world’ over the dinner table on Christmas Day. Open some presents I don’t want, on a schedule I don’t like.” He sighed, clearly used to it by now, but it didn’t make it sound any less awful.

“Well,” You smile, nudging him playfully with your elbow. “Maybe we could write to one another, or even get a little visit in?” 

The hope in your voice was evident, and Pansy gave you an encouraging smile across the table. You’d been meaning to ask Draco this question for weeks now, and your last chance had been fast approaching. Since the summer, you and Draco had been hooking up. It was no secret among your friends, or even the students; your affections for one another were hardly contained, but it wasn't official. 

You wanted the labels, the security, and the safety of knowing that he was yours and you were his, and nobody else could come between you. You wanted to be introduced to his parents, be his date at events, to have him be proud to call you his girl. But Draco had been hesitant, avoiding every conversation that might inch into the ‘so, what are we?’ territory, keeping a safe distance from any kind of real commitment. 

It wasn’t enough for you anymore, not by a long shot, but trying to talk to Draco about it only ended up with him shutting it down, or skilfully diverting the conversation and you were growing tired of his games. 

Draco only made a vague noise, neither an agreement nor disagreement, and looked away from you as he picked up his drink to take a sip. “I don’t know… maybe. I can get pretty busy over the holidays, I’d hate to let you down.”

Another skill of his, making it seem like cancelling or delaying or not doing something at all was your idea. He was clearly hoping you’d brush it off, and tell him not to worry about it, but instead, you kept quiet. Not giving him the satisfaction of any easy win, this time. 

Pansy caught your eye across the table, shaking her head disapprovingly, and shooting a glare at an oblivious Draco. She had been your confidant these last few months, every update and development in your situationship, she’d been informed of. Every decision, she’d been a part of. She was practically as invested as you were, at this point, and she certainly did not approve of his nonchalant behaviour either. 

“Speaking of parties,” Mattheo cut Theo off, clearly having had enough of the annual rehashing of ‘that one Christmas when Theo was eight’ for today, and changing the subject, “Who’s got their dates sorted for the Malfoy Christmas Eve Ball, and who’s daring to go solo and have Narcissa set them up like a matchmaker all night long?”

Chuckles rang out among the group, and Pansy smiled, leaning into Blaise’s side with a love-struck grin. “I think we’re safe this year.”

“I’m going solo, but, I did tell Aunty Cissa that I have my eye on a girl in one of my classes, and I’m seeing how it plays out. So, she’s not setting me up anytime soon, since she believes I’m already onto someone.” Enzo smirked, and Blaise congratulated him for his clever tactics. 

You smirked through your mouthful of food, listening to Mattheo explain his complex excuse, to Reggie mournfully spill the story of how he’s already been set up by his parents witha ‘potential bride to meet’, and how he hopes she doesn’t show up. You laugh with the others as Tom simply raises an eyebrow, knowing that even Narcissa doesn’t attempt to set him up anymore, lest he scare away any more of her friends’ daughters. Theo, ever the player he is, is looking forward to dancing with every single lady he can find, and taking his pick at the end of the night.

“I suppose nobody needs to ask Draco who his date will be.” Mattheo grins, wiggling his brows at the pair of you as you smile, leaning a little further into the man at your side. 

“Hey, who knows?” He chortles, and your eyes narrow a little, “I’ve had plenty of offers. I haven’t made up my mind yet.”

“Oooh.” Enzo’s eyes went wide, the other boys joining in, and Pansy fixed him with a glare. Daphne leaned around you with her jaw dropped at his statement, and you sat up from his embrace, lips pressed flat and a brow raised. 

The boys snickered, ‘he’s in shit’ and ‘someone’s in the doghouse’, but he lived for the spotlight, a drama queen at heart, and he smirked down at you. 

“Oh, c’mon. Don’t look at me like that, babe.” The playful nickname was one he only ever used when joking around. When he was sincere, he was much more romantic; darling, sweetheart, beautiful. “What am I supposed to say? ‘Hi mum, hello father, meet the girl I’m skipping class to shag! Thanks for paying my tuition!’, I don’t think so.”

The boys all laughed, Daphne scoffed in sync with her sister behind you, and Pansy looked like she’d lunge across the table at any moment, if it wasn’t for her chastising Blaise for laughing, instead. ‘You and Draco can share that couch you’ll both be sleeping on tonight’, she’d said. ‘See how funny you think it is then’.

The words stung as he spoke them, dismantling your relationship down to the bare minimum; to sex and physical connection and nothing else. Like the nights spent talking until the sun came up were nothing, the times you’d held him while he cried, or washed him in the bath when he was so exhausted he could barely keep his eyes open. Like he didn’t rub your stomach for hours every month when you got cramps, or had a stash of your favourite snacks in his bedside table for whenever you came over. 

You knew that Draco Malfoy lived you, just as much as you loved him. It was evident in everything he did, every kiss and every word. But, he needed a little push.

“I suppose you’re right,” You sigh lightly, giggling along with the laughing boys around the table. “I’m not so sure Lucius wouldn't burst a blood vessel then and there.”

“Exactly.” Draco hummed, and you glanced back to Pansy. She was shocked, only for a second, before taking in the subtle signs of mischief on your face. Her own smirk stretched out in return, and her gaze flickered once to Draco, before back to you. 

A new game was afoot, and Draco wasn’t going to stand a chance.

Slipping your coat from your shoulders, the annual Malfoy Christmas Eve Ball was well underway. Your parents had disappeared into the crowds before you’d even stepped out of the carriage, uncaring of where you were as long as you weren’t causing trouble. They were here to mingle with the other importants, and you were just here to learn the ropes of proper socialising.

The garment was taken from you, your small bag clutched in hand as a ticket was given to you for it, and you brushed down the front of your dress delicately. Pearls moved under your touch, beading along the bodice flat and perfected, and you felt your confidence rise as you looked at yourself once more in the reflection of a dark window. Adjusting the small lace gloves on each hand, you took a step towards the dining room. 

Elegant music was playing from a live band up on a stage, the room was decorated this year to look like a winter escape. Pale and frosty, like a palace of ice, twinkling lights and glittering decor, crisp white tablecloths and ice sculptures. A layer of goosebumps travelled along your skin at the sight of it all, despite the warming charms that took place for the guests. 

Scanning the room, you quickly found your table. The designated kids table, despite you all being legal adults and far beyond such status. You’d all be the babies of the ball until the new generation emerged, no doubt. Moving through the bodies and crowds of people politely, Theo was the first to glance up and spot you, his mouth falling open, and a rush of confidence took over as he raised two fingers to his lips and whistled. 

The sound caught the attention of the others’ chatter fading to quiet as they all turned to look for the object of his cat-calling, Enzo’s eyes widened, Pansy cheered loudly, and even Mattheo looked momentarily speechless. You’d had the same reaction when you’d seen yourself in the dress too, your stylist had truly outdone herself for this one. 

You looked flawless, and you looked expensive, and utterly elegant. Doing a little spin as you approached, a smile broke free on your lips as you stopped before the chair with your name card before it. 

“Merlin, babe,” Pansy started, drawing your attention straight her her, “You’ve got every eye on you tonight. If I was single, I’d be all over you.” 

She winked when you laughed, and Blaise rolled his eyes but smiled, leaning in to kiss her cheek affectionately. 

“Pretty necklace,” She commented, and your fingers rose to the pretty string of pearls and diamonds that you had. 

“It was a gift,” You simply hummed, tugging at your gloves. Glancing at the others, you gave each a polite smile, eyes lingering on Draco as he stared. In any other style, this dress would be scandalous for an event like this. A low neckline, spaghetti straps, no sleeves. Tight and fitted to every curve of your body, and yet the classic designs and vintage nature elevated it to the kind of class Audrey Hepburn would be proud of. 

He looked just as good, a dark suit, a fresh white shirt, a champagne-coloured tie that made the colour of his eyes and his hair stand out and your mouth dried out a little. Silver rings adorned his fingers, the Malfoy signet standing out, clenched so tightly around his whiskey glass that his knuckles were almost white. 

You’d worn soft, golden makeup effects today, a dusting of glitter along your cheekbones and eyelids, a shade of pink on your cheeks and lips that you knew was his weakness. 

“Someone really wanted your attention with that, huh?” Your best friend teased, and your eyes snapped away from Draco, back to her. 

“I suppose so,” You muse, hand coming up to touch one of the beads on your ear, “Since they also got me this lovely pair of matching earrings.”

Pansy made a dramatic show of admiring them, and Blaise gave a funny look, glancing at the jewellery, and then back at Draco, who was frowning. Before you could reach for your chair after placing your clutch down, Enzo was shooting to his feet from beside you, tugging out the chair for you. 

Draco scoffed as you gave him a thank you, settling into your seat, and he glared at the man beside you. Enzo didn’t flinch, however, smirking at Draco as he spoke;

“What? It’s called being a gentleman, cousin.”

Crossing your leg delicately, you’d hardly even removed your gloves, before a tray was coming down by your side, and a young waiter with a dazzling smile was looking right at you. 

“Champagne, ma’am?” Not a planned pawn in your game, but a welcome addition, you smiled sweetly in return. 

“Oh, I’d love some. Thank you.” Taking the single glass by the stem, you lifted it from the tray and the man’s smile stretched wider as you sipped the bubbly, holding his eye. 

“Of course, miss. If you need anything, anything at all, I’ll be at the bar, happy to serve.” His flirting was heavy enough that normally you’d want to roll your eyes, but tonight, you suppressed that urge, playing into it as you bat your lashes. 

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind. Thank you.”

He took the dismissal, staring appreciatively as he walked away, another look over his shoulder to you as you watched him go. 

“Stop eye-fucking the help.” Draco snapped, and your focus moved to him slowly, just to find his icy glare on you. He didn’t scare you, though, all that mean bravado, but you knew what was underneath. 

“I was doing no such thing.” You tut, placing down your drink. “Don’t be jealous, Dray. You look even better in that suit. If you want compliments, just ask. No need to be mean.”

He seemed rather placated by this, his ego settling down, even if the others did laugh at him.

The conversation seemed to continue around you as you settled in, avoiding Draco’s heated stare and sipping at your champagne. The rush of warming alcohol through your veins settled every dancing nerve, and gave you the calm confidence to do what you had planned. Sitting forwards, just enough, you angled your body so that Draco might have the perfect view over your cleavage as you feigned interest in the chatter around you. 

He took the bait, his gaze falling right where you wanted it, the gems of your necklace dangling just over the swell of your breasts, and he licked his lower lip, pulling it between his teeth.

Raising your hands and catching the swinging gem, you toyed with it carefully, letting it run over your fingers. Time melted away as Draco’s gaze flicked between your nimble touch, your lips, and your chest, shuffling in his seat every so often, and gulping at the bubbly in his glass. 

He was on his third refill by the time food started to be taken around, and you took pity on him momentarily, sitting back in your chair and angling away from him, ready to receive your first course. 

As the starters came around, you turned to thank your waiter, surprised to see it was the same man from the bar who had brought you your champagne. You’d given him little thought since he’d walked away, and you’d never spotted him again, but perhaps that was exactly why he was delivering your food now, as he beamed at you and set down the plate. 

Men did love a little attention, after all. 

Reaching for the bottle of champagne cooling in the centre of the table, the waiter never looked away from you as he refilled your glass without being asked. Draco finally seemed to notice as he finished adjusting his napkin, gaze narrowing on the man serving you. “You’ve got to be kidding me…” He muttered.

You pretended to take no notice, smiling at the man and waving your fingers flirtily as he walked away.

“I’m going to get another drink at the bar,” He announced, leaving without his glass and without asking if anyone else wanted one. You knew where he was truly going, if the lock of his jaw and the stamp in his step were any indication. You doubted you’d be seeing that waiter again.

As you poked at your food, Pansy excused herself too, only a few bites into her meal before she disappeared with a wicked grin and no explanation to anyone. Enzo just chuckled beside you, glancing around the room like he was watching all the cogs of a machine in motion, before turning his gaze on you. “You do look lovely tonight, do you know that?”

“Of course I do. I spent days on end trying on dress after dress to find this.” You sighed, admiring the gorgeous piece of art on your body as you set your cutlery down. 

“And is it serving the purpose you need it to?” He teased, voice knowing, and you nodded. Flicking your gaze over the patrons and guests in the room, you searched for Draco, finding him talking politely to one of his mother’s friends at the bar. 

“It is, I think.”

“Let’s hope it stays that way.” He whispered, your focus still on the man who truly held your heart, who was making his polite excuse and walking way, back towards you all. His gaze locked on yours, only for a second, before Pansy was calling your name and drawing your focus elsewhere. 

When you looked up to her, she was grinning, a man by her side. “This is Elliot, he’s been wanting to meet you for some time. I promised him I’d introduce you both tonight.”

You offered the best smile you could as his cheeks reddened, and Pansy merely patted him on the shoulder, slinking away as you offered your hand to him. “Lovely to meet you, Elliot.”

“You too. As embarrassing as that introduction was, it’s true. I have wanted to meet you for some time.” He had a kind smile and pretty eyes, and he seemed far too nice to be dragged into your game tonight, but he seemed almost like a willing participant, and you weren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. As Draco took his seat, Elliot continued, “Pansy has told me so much about you. You know, if you’re free one day before you go back to that fancy boarding school of yours, I’d love to take you out.”

“Yeah? What have you got in mind?” You smile, twisting a little more to face him, and your encouragement only brightens his expression as Draco’s darkens in your peripheral.

“A night in London, perhaps. We could get dinner, and see the opera?”

“She doesn’t like the opera.” Draco sneered, openly staring at Elliot with enough contempt to scare away lesser men. Elliot tugged at his collar, glancing at Draco, and then back to you as you tried to hide your shock at his behaviour.

“The theatre, then?”

Draco looked ready to snap again, and before he could, you nodded, sparing your unwilling partner. “That sounds wonderful, I’ll see what my schedule says. I’ll get in touch with you through Pansy if I can find the time, is that okay?”

“Perfect.” He smiled, sneaking another wary glance at Draco who was not backing down from glaring at him unflinchingly, but Elliot shook it off, bravely. “It was a pleasure to meet you, truly.”

“And you, Elliot.”

Soon after he left, the plates were being cleared. You tried not to smirk as a different waiter, and one who very pointedly did not so much as even catch your gaze, cleared your dishes away at record speed. 

You knew that Draco had something, everything, to do with that. He was jealous by nature, a spoilt single child who did not like to share his favourite toys, and that is exactly what you were betting on tonight.

You stood, taking a lap around the room with Pansy to settle your food before the next course, and to get another drink. She took the opportunity to fill you in on how her first Christmas event with Blaise’s family had gone, and when you returned, you made sure to surreptitiously place yourself behind Draco’s chair. 

You placed a hand on his shoulder, a friendly gesture, squeezing and rubbing enough that your thumb swept over his collar and across his neck. His pulse jumped under your touch, and he tipped his head closer, into your touch. 

As he did so, your heart leapt in your chest. To others, it might look like a friendly gesture but to you, it meant so much more. You were tempted to cave then and there, to live with this being enough, to settle, but you couldn't. You didn’t want this to be it, you wanted to follow this by leaning down to kiss him, to have him smile against your lips in public the way he did when you were alone. 

To arrive at these events together, arms linked, and to stumble out tiredly together too. To sit by him, his hand on your thigh, to rest your head on his shoulder, to kiss him on the dance floor. The thought was enough to push you through. 

He twisted his head, to kiss your hand like he often did when you did this. Carefully, you slipped your hand away just in time, knuckles brushing across the nape of his neck as you stepped away, and back to your seat. 

His sights moved to you, but like a saving grace, the servers began to appear with more dishes, and dinner soon distracted you all. A delicious serving of salmon and potatoes, and the hall fell quiet enough for you to hear the beautiful music playing when chatter fell low. 

Low conversation, drinks refilled, and that perfect mood set across the room, as people took to the tables and quieted down. Your favourite part of the night, usually. Good food, your friends, and a chance to catch up without the usual weight of it all sitting on you. Regulus was talking, telling the rare story that had him caught up in a long conversation where he usually just observed quietly, but your attention was fixed on your lover. 

Until, Theo spoke up. 

“Oh, merda,” He muttered across Reggie’s’ story, his gaze cutting to you alarmingly quickly. “I forgot to tell you.”

“Tell me what?” Your heart skipped a beat, a flash of panic.

“My cousin flew in last minute for the party, and he wants to speak to you.” Theo’s words soothed your panic, and you offered him a flat look for the dramatic way he’d put it. Taking a sip from your glass, you raised a brow.

“When?”

“Now.” He confirmed, sights lifting to sit just behind you, and before you could even turn, a chair was being pulled up beside your own from another table. Turning your head to the owner, a smile burst across your face at the man sitting before you. 

“Dario!” Your arms were around his neck before you could stop yourself, and he was chuckling as he bundled you into an equally enthusiastic hug. He chuckled lightly, pulling back only far enough to press a friendly kiss to your cheek, and you cupped his face as you parted from him. “You’re growing a beard!”

“My mother hates it.” He chuckled, rubbing a hand over it. As you twisted a little more towards him, he reached down, practically manhandling you as he reached for the edge of your seat by your legs, tugging it sideways to face him. You squealed as the chair jolted, screeching on the floor, tugging you closer as he leaned in. “Sei incantevole.”

“Are you charming me in Italian?” You smirk, a boyish smile on his face as he lounged back in his seat. “What are you doing here, anyway? Theo said none of you were flying in this year! I thought you couldn't make it.”

“I couldn't,” He sighed, shrugging, “But, then I heard that you would be here, without a date, and I knew I just had to make it. So, here I am, la mia bella donna. You think a short flight from Italy would stop me rushing over here to you?”

Your giggle was against your control. Even if he was more like family than a romantic interest, the way his accent twisted around coyly spoken words, was enough to bring a blush to even the most unreceptive woman’s face. “Cut it out, you flirt.”

“You’ll save me a dance later, right?”

“We’ll see.” He rose his brow, and you lifted your glass, taking a sip of bubbly to hide your smile, leaving him hanging. “Depends on how much more of your cheesy flirting I can endure.”

“You mean my wonderful Italian charm?” He teased, pinching one of your cheeks, and deepening the flush he had already created. “Don’t think I don’t see the way I make you blush.

You could only scoff, mouth dry as you tried to think of a retort, and you didn’t miss Theo muttering in Italian behind you, curse words you’d picked up on tumbling from his mouth. 

“Perhaps this can convince you,” Dario reaches for his inner pocket, producing a small, slim box. An excited squeak breaks from you as he hands it over, your fingers brushing the elegant leather, an Italian name embossed across the front. “Open it later, alright?”

You could only nod, admiring it happily, before slipping the box safely inside of your clutch. He took your hand, kissing your knuckles as he stood. A final wink as he offered you hid charming goodbyes, and a farewell to the rest of the table, before returning his borrowed chair to where he had taken it from. 

You watched as your friend left, disappearing into the crowd, no doubt to mingle and socialise as he had always been so good at, before you swung back around in your chair. 

“He taught you everything you know, huh, Nott?”

Theo only shrugged, a cheeky grin on his face. “What can I say, tesoro? We Nott men just have charm. We’ll woo your panties right off.” He winked, the cockiness not lasting long as Draco swung at him, a fist landing roughly on his arm as the Malfoy heir scowled, glaring at his best friend. 

“Cut it out.” He growled the words through gritted teeth, and your hand shot up, rubbing at your lip to hide your grin as Draco made no effort to hide his own emotions. Theo only laughed, rubbing at the patch on his arm he’d taken the hit.

Dessert was served, a beautiful display of ice cream and winter berries that almost looked too good to eat. The key word being almost. You hadn't been able to resist, however, and the first small groan you’d let out as the sugar hit your tongue had Draco’s gaze snapping straight to you. I did not leave, once, after. 

Instead, he watched, through a dark gaze, every curl of your lips around the spoon, every swipe of your tongue to catch the juice of burst berries. If you’d put on a little extra show, just for him, nobody else had to know. 

It was like he was staring right into your soul, so intense, even after the meal was long since finished. Finally, you indulged him once again, turning to look at him and raising a brow. “Yes, Draco?”

“You look beautiful tonight, I am simply admiring.” He let his gaze move across you slowly, making his admiration apparent, and his gaze lingered a fraction of a second longer on your neck. He stared at you with open adoration, the kind of look that told you exactly how he felt, even if he was fighting it, but he was close to breaking. He was close to losing this game he didn’t know he was playing. Then, his gaze flickered over your shoulder, sweet observation morphing. His brows drew together, his open hand slamming down on the table hard enough to make the glass rattle. “Oh, fucking hell…”

Mattheo erupted with sudden laughter, loud and brash, and there was a tap on your shoulder before you could even ask him what had him in such hysterics. A young man you did not know, perhaps a few years younger than you, and glanced around the table to see which of your friends had put this one together. Each seemed to have caught on in their own time, and had a hand in adding to the fun, to watch Draco suffer more, but none of them were laying any claim to this one. 

“I’ve been watching you all evening, and you are beautiful.” He smiled, stuttering over his words slightly, and Draco made no shy show of his disdain, rolling his eyes and making a disapproving sound. “I was wondering if you might grant me the pleasure of a dance?”

“She would dance with you,” Enzo interrupted, before you could speak at all, leaning forward toward the edge of your chair from his own, and you could have kissed him in gratitude for saving you. “But, she promised me her first dance. Isn’t that right, love? And I think now is the perfect time. Let’s go.”

Offering you his hand, you took it, letting him sweep you away without a second’s delay, navigating you both to the dance floor and twirling you expertly into his arms. One hand clasped your own, the other sitting at a respectable place on your waist, your own on his shoulder, and he fell into the well-rehearsed steps of a classical ballroom dance he’d been doing since he could walk. 

You let out a shaky sigh, relief flooding your veins as you looked back to your seat, noticing that the boy had taken Enzo’s rejection well and disappeared, not hanging around and waiting for your return. 

“You’re killing him slowly, like a predator playing with its prey,” Enzo smirked, neither of you needing to clarify who you were talking about, as he brought up his cousin. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really?” He chuckled, spinning you out before pulling you back in, sharp actions that made you dizzy with their accuracy, and you grinned as he brought you tumbling right back into his arms, perfectly. If he’d been trying to win you over, his dancing alone would’ve had you swooning. “You just show up to a fancy event like this, dripping in diamonds and pearls and looking like a million bucks, supposedly single. You mean to tell me you didn’t know that all these rich London boys wouldn't descend on you like vultures?”

“Not my fault I’m single and hot, Enz.”

He just laughed, dipping you a little. “We do struggle, don’t we.” You wove between people, a happy silence falling between you both once again as he guided you over the floor, back and forth, “Are you, though? Single, I mean.”

“That is up to your cousin.”

“Touché.”

You continued to move, until your feet were sore from all the twirling, clinging to Enzo in fits of giggles as he spun and twirled and dipped you more, hands on your waist as he lifted you through the air, making a show of his dancing. 

He may have seemed altruistic in his gestures, sweeping in to save you and Draco from your dance with the boy, but he was using you too. Enzo was taking every opportunity to show off his moves to every lady around the room watching, a flirty smile on his face between conversations and he glanced around, and you wouldn't be surprised if he received more offers than Theo or Dario by the end of the night. 

As the third song came to an end, and the music fell for just a second, you panted slightly, arm around his neck now, looking up at him with flushed cheeks and a bright smile. “Can we take a break?”

“Tired, already? You only gave me three so far.” He smirked at the way your jaw dropped, your face going hot and you knew your cheeks were red. You untangled yourself from his body, barely making it a step away from his laughter before he wrapped an arm around your waist, tugging you into his side. “Oh, c’mon. I thought the aim was to flirt and make him mad?”

“He’s not even here to listen!”

“I’m practising,” Enzo murmured, steering you towards the bar, and leaning on the wood as he flagged down the bartender. You were quickly served, by a woman who fawned over Enzo as she passed by, and you had to snap your fingers in front of his face to snap his gaze away from her retreating form. “So, how long are you going to make him—”

A tap on Enzo’s shoulder cut him off, and he turned to look, straightening up instantly from his slumped position. As soon as he moved so you could see, your relaxation melted away too, as you found yourself face to face with Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy. 

“Lorenzo, I’ve hardly had a chance to talk to you all evening. I want to ask you about your schoolwork.” The impressively formal and deep voice of Lucius Malfoy settled over your skin like fresh snow, cold but smooth, and you shuddered. 

Narcissa only chuckled lightly at her husband’s words, her eyes on you. “You’ve been busy, though. Who is your lovely lady?”

“Uncle Lucius, Aunt Cissa. This is my friend, (Y/n).”

It wasn’t exactly the circumstances you’d wanted to meet them under, but you smiled nonetheless, nerves running wild as you offered your hand to them both, shaking politely just as your parents had taught you. 

“Ah, (Y/n). Yes. I make a point of knowing all of Draco’s school friends, but I’m in business with your father, aren’t I?” Something like a small kernel of sweetness was buried in that statement, his interest in his son’s life, even if he tried to hide it behind formalities, but it wasn’t your place to comment. 

“Yes, sir. That is correct.”

“They’re very proud of your schoolwork. They were telling me about your latest project. You synthesised a new potion to grow murkweed faster, is that true?”

You were surprised he knew so much, your small project submitted for Herbology was the last thing you’d expected Lucius Malfoy to know of, or take an interest in, and your mouth felt like sandpaper as you tried to form words. “Yes. Yes, sir. That’s right.”

“Interesting.” That calculating gaze scanned over you, analysing you from head to toe, like he could see right through you with a single glance. “That is impressive, for someone of your age. I’d be open to learning more. Are you considering making a future out of your alchemy talents? I have connections that I could contact for you.” 

You were speechless, your stomach going wild with butterflies born of both excitement and anxiety. He smirked, a look that would set you on edge if you weren’t sure deep down that this was in your interests, not against them. 

“Perhaps we can discuss it more soon, when we next see you. With Enzo?”

Enzo’s arm around your waist shifted, a reassuring weight that you were sure had been your only grounding presence for this surreal conversation. He patted your hip encouragingly. “Oh, no, we aren’t…” 

Motioning between you both, Lucius’ brows furrowed, and Narcissa tried to hide her sigh.

“Sorry to disappoint you, Aunt Cissa. (Y/n) isn’t mine, though it is wonderful that you approve.” Before either could question him, or expand on their confusion, Enzo gave your waist a final rub, before removing his touch from you entirely, and stepping towards his family. “Shall we go and discuss schoolwork then, Uncle? You have questions, and I have answers. I hope the ones you want.”

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss (Y/l/n).” Lucius politely offered you his hand again, shaking it firmly, and that was about as friendly a dismissal as you’d ever get from him, you’d heard. This was only supported by the surprised look on Narcissa’s face, and the beam Enz gave you as he guided his uncle away. 

“I hope to see you again soon, (Y/n). You look wonderful this evening, thank you for coming.” Narcissa murmured, before following her husband and nephew, glancing back at you only once over her shoulder. She knew. The woman was far more cunning than she let on, the true embodiment of a sneaky Slytherin, observing quietly and taking everything in. Her eyes glinted. She knew you knew she knew, too.

Your heart was pounding, cheeks warm as you lifted your fingers to them cautiously. The disappointed waitress placed down two drinks before you, Enzo long gone without his, but you smiled at her with appreciation, fingers shaking a little as you lifted the glass to your lips to take a sip. 

You’d spoken to Draco’s parents. 

They’d liked you. Lucius had offered to put you onto the career path, and Narcissa had complimented your dress. A soft laugh of disbelief slipped free, your eyes sliding closed for just a second as you revelled in the moment. 

It hasn’t been what you’d set out for tonight, but it was far more than what you’d hoped for. Opening your eyes again, to head back to the table and find Draco, you were met by the sight of a stranger leaning before you on the bar, grinning down at you in amusement. “Hello.”

“Hi.” You gave a terse smile, and a single nod. “If you’ll excuse me—”

“I didn’t even get to ask you to dance yet. Saw you out on the floor with the Berkshire boy, earlier, and I thought—”

“I’m dancing with her next, mate. Piss off.” 

Draco rarely sounded that mad, a chill went down your spine as you felt an arm slide around your waist, tugging you back into his chest. “Dray…”

The stranger only scoffed, glaring at Draco as he wandered away, and your hand reached for his forearm on your body. He snatched it away too soon, however, tugging on your hip to turn you around. His jaw was clenched tight, eyes more frozen than the coldest glacier. “Dance with me.”

Not a request, and he didn’t wait for an answer, before plucking your drink from your hand and slamming it down onto the bar, guiding you back to the swaying bodies. Standing before you, you offered him your hand, your hand sitting lightly on his shoulder. He didn’t take the respectable route, instead, his arm wrapped tight around your waist, sweeping you close to his body, and beginning to move you both in simple steps. 

It was several minutes before he relaxed, your arm sliding further around his neck in a more intimate hold, bringing the two of you much closer, swaying slowly. The tension in his body gave way with every step, and with a resigned sigh, he finally spoke, “You met my parents.”

“I did. They were lovely. Very curious about Enzo and I’s relationship.”

His hand clenched on your waist, and you tipped your head at him as his piercing gaze drilled into you. One more move…

“Oh, don’t be so mad, Dray. We’re only shagging, after all. You’ll find a new girl if I get swept away by someone else.”

His eyes narrowed, jaw clenching, and a fire burned in those silver eyes now, melting the ice away with rage. Checkmate.

“You win, alright? I’m not playing this stupid game any longer.” He took a deep breath, and another, fingers twitching on your back as jealousy bubbled under the surface. “For fucks sake, how many pieces of jewellery from other guys are you wearing? Who bought you those earrings, that necklace? I should be the only one buying you gifts. I should be the one spoiling you. You want the Malfoy family ring? I’ll go yank it off my mother’s engagement ring from her finger right now, just take all this off.”

He studied you for a second, confusion growing at the smirk that grew on your lips. Victory was yours, and you leaned in, pressing a delicate kiss to his cheek. Letting the hand from his neck smooth down his chest, his gaze stayed locked on the jewels around your neck, glaring angrily. “No.”

“No?”

“No. It’s pretty. I’m going to keep wearing it all, let it remind you what you have. Next time you piss me off, forget a date, or use the last of my shampoo, I’m going to put it all back on so you can remember how many guys would jump at the chance.” His nostrils flared, but he stayed silent, wisely knowing when to keep his mouth shut. “I don’t want your family ring, Malfoy. Not yet. I just want a proper title, and the respect that comes with it. I’m not your booty call, or your side piece. You don’t want to play games anymore? Then don’t.”

“You already won.” He whispers, his head dropping down to let his forehead rest on your own. “You know how much you mean to me.”

“Yes, I do. But I want the whole world to know it, too, Dray.”

He didn’t respond verbally. Instead, he twisted his head, enough to press his mouth to your own, silencing any more arguments between you both as he kissed you. His lips claimed yours, a tender and loving kiss, showing everyone just how much you meant to him. There was no mistaking the emotions within it, not as his arms wrapped around your body, holding you to him as the pretence of dancing was given up, your hand on the back of his head, fingers in his hair, meeting every push and pull.

When he pulled away, your smile took over, bashful now under his openly adoring gaze, and he stole several more pecks from your lips. A happy sound escaped you as he tugged you in, tucking his face into your neck, and swaying you both to the music. 

“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”

“You have, but I’d be open to hearing it again.” Your hand smoothed over his hair, and he chuckled against your skin, leaving a kiss on the crook of your neck before raising to meet your eye. 

“You are breathtaking, darling. I’m in awe. This colour is my favourite, you know.”

“Why do you think I wore it?”

His fingers trailed down your spine, eyes sparkling even more at that revelation. “How about we get out of here? We’ll make our goodbyes to my parents, and head out.”

“Our goodbyes?” You repeated as he took your hand, lacing your fingers together. 

“Yes. From their son and his girlfriend. I think you deserve a proper introduction, after all.”

Tugging you across the floor, he gave you no time to prepare, and certainly, none to disagree, as you smoothed your hair and attempted to control the blush he’d brought to your cheeks. Through the crowds he wove, until he was pulling to a stop just shy of his parents, and Enzo looked as though he could have cried with relief when Lucius’ intense focus was taken away from him. The boy quickly slipped away as both of Draco’s parents turned to face you. 

“Miss (Y/l/n), when we said we hoped to see you again soon, I didn’t realise you’d take it quite this literally.” He murmured, voice as low and calm as always, and your lips parted, a different kind of heat flooding your features. 

“Oh, behave now, Lucius,” Narcissa grinned, her gaze dropping to your clasped hands, before she reached up to her son’s face, pinching his cheek with a smile. “Draco, darling, I’ve hardly seen you all evening.”

“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you Mother, but we’ll be leaving early.” She only gave him a knowing look, ignoring Lucius’ displeased huff, as if she wasn’t surprised at all. 

“‘We’?”

“My girlfriend and I.” He said, proud and strong, before tugging you forward a little more to stand in front of him. His hand left your own, circling your waist instead, and she offered him a smile at the news. 

“I see.” She smiled, patting her son’s cheek affectionately, before turning that knowing gaze on you. “Now Lorenzo’s evasiveness whenever I asked him about you makes sense.”

“You asked about me?” Your words were a rushed squeak, which only seemed to amuse Narcissa more. 

“Of course, dear. I wanted to know more about you. I’d ask you to sit and chat with me for a spell, but I believe my son might combust if I did.”

“Mother!” He gasped, and Lucius only tutted. 

“Draco.” His father growled softly, shaking his head, and the red on his son’s cheeks only grew.

“You both may go, for now. But I hope you’ll visit me soon, and we might talk?”

“You mean… just us?” Your words tapered off to a near whisper, and Lucius smirked to himself as Draco rolled his eyes. 

“Yes, dear. We’ll have tea.”

You could only nod, bidding your final farewells to them both in a state of awe, before Draco was hurrying you along. Tight hands gripping your waist, lips on your neck as he loved you through the crowds, swiping up your bag and giving you barely a moment to say goodbye to your friends before sweeping you away again. It was only due to the snow falling outside, you were sure, that he allowed you to stop long enough to get your coats. 

Helping you, he lifted the garment onto you from behind, kissing your cheek as he reached around your body to fasten it. His elegant coat was already on, and leather gloves were on his hands as he offered you one. Lacing your fingers through his own, he smiled, tugging you out into the freezing night, and ushering you around the side of the Manor, away from the stream of cars lined up for guests as they left. 

“Where are we going, Dray?” 

“To one of the gardens near the path.” He never turned back, leading you carefully around patches of ice and slippery snow as you moved, the light from the house fading. It was almost pitch black, before he mumbled a small spell, and the garden lights glowed to light, glittering on the fresh blanket of ice. 

Sitting on the grass was an old-fashioned sleigh, enchanted to keep dry, even in the snow, and two reindeer sat happily in the snow snuffling at the grass and scattered food. 

The landscape stretched out far before you both, trees and grass and walls all covered in snow like something from a Christmas card, and the sigh that left your lips clouded in the air before your face. 

“Oh, Draco…” Taking a few steps closer, snow-tipped over the tops of your heels as you stepped off the pathway onto the grass, chilling your feet for only a second, before Draco was following. Scooping you up into his arms, you kicked the ice from your feet with a giggle, your arms looping around his neck. “What’s all this?”

“This is your Christmas present. I didn’t realise that was the kind of ice you wanted instead.” He muttered, eyes flicking down to your neck, as he carried you carefully through the snow and towards the ornate sleigh. As you leaned in to kiss his cheek, he smiled shyly, avoiding your gaze as he became embarrassed, “I wanted to do something romantic for you. We can take the sleigh back to the town, get a cab, and take the jet anywhere you want to go. Pansy already packed a bag for you.”

He placed you down on the edge of the sleigh, letting you shuffle across onto the warmed leather. With another kiss to your lips, he scoffed at your smile. 

“Merry Christmas, my wicked little girlfriend.”

“I can’t believe you arranged all this.” You were practically bouncing in your seat, watching as Draco nervously tugged on the reins, prompting the lazy animals to stand back up, before settling into the sleigh himself. Like they knew just what to do, they took off in a slow trot, tugging the pair of you along through the snow. 

“Maybe if you’d have waited, instead of making me fight for my life tonight, you’d have been surprised.”

His arm was splayed along the back of the seat, and you snuggled in a little closer to him. Curling his arm around you, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, shaking his head and burying his nose in your hair. “If I didn’t make you fight for me, Dray, you’d probably have introduced me to your mother as your study partner. I gave you a little push, that’s all.”

“Is that so?” He muttered, guiding your face up so he could peck your lips. “Who do you think helped me arrange all of this for my ‘lovely lady friend’, hm? I’ve been writing to my mother about having an interest in someone for months now. You underestimate me.”

“You never gave me any other indication!” 

“Oh, please. You walk me like a damn dog, you knew how I felt.” His mouth closed over your own, stealing a kiss, and you couldn't help but smile into it. “I think tonight just proves it.”

The sleigh trotted on as Draco kissed you in the back, beyond thought and reason, your hands tucked into his coat for warmth as he kept you cuddled in close to his side. 

Minutes melted away, the two of you lost in your own world as you jostled and trotted through the fields, back toward the town. Whatever he had planned, it had been in motion for days, and the thought only made you fall a little more in love with him. Perhaps you had underestimated him, but none of it mattered now, not when he was kissing you like you were his only way to breathe, and you had him in your arms, properly, at last.

“So, Pansy knew about your little plan?”

“Yes. I told her days ago.” 

“Hm…” You loved her, and it was perhaps her knowledge of Draco’s actions that made this all the funnier. “So, she knew about your plan, and mine. And still, she made sure to introduce guys to me all night. She played us both just for her own amusement.”

As you thought of her, your fingers lifted to your neck, sitting on the delicate jewellery there, and Draco huffed. Looping his finger underneath it, he tugged lightly. “Can you take this off now, please?”

“Why would I do that?” His pout deepened, glaring at the offending item, and you gave in with an airy laugh. “Pansy, Daph and Tori picked it out personally.”

“What?” His head snapped up, pout gone as his jaw dropped, and he was not laughing like you were. “You let me believe another guy decked you out in diamonds all night! What about the matching earrings?”

“Blaise.”

“The bracelet?”

“Theo and the Notts.” 

At that mention, his eyes narrowed again, searching for your clutch and finding it resting in your lap. “But Theo’s cousin Mario gave you a separate gift.”

“Dario.” You corrected, and he mimicked it childishly, scoffing afterwards. “Well, that part was real. He truly was flirting, and I have no idea what it is, I haven’t opened it yet.”

“Give it to me.” He reached for your bag, a second too slow as you swiped it away from him with a gasp. He didn’t give up, still trying to snatch it as he leaned over you, pressing you back into the seat through fits of laughter, the two of you fighting over the bag until it was pressed to your chest, your eyes wide as you stared up at him, shaking your head. “Give it to me! I’m chucking it, hand it over!”

“No, it’s mine!” He slumped back into his seat, panting for breath and smoothing his hair back down. He was pointedly staring away in the opposite direction, and when you leaned in closer with a chuckle, he leaned away. Grabbing his shoulder, you planted yourself firmly in his lap, kissing the underside of his jaw. “I’m keeping it, but your present is better, I just know it. Whatever it is, could never beat this.”

“Promise?”

“I promise, Dray.” 

He gave in, wrapping his arms around your waist, tugging you in closer to his body and pressing a happy kiss to your cheek. “Fine, but I’m buying you a new necklace when we get off the damn plane. I don’t care who bought that one.”

[skeltnwrites]

The Shape of Family ‧₊˚❀༉

As a single dad, Steve’s world revolves around school drop-offs, bedtime rituals, and tee-ball practices—and he's struggling to keep up. But you're always there, happily lending a hand when he needs it most. / part one masterlist

part two - at the rec center's fall festival, you and steve finally make plans to hang out 11k

a/n - how did this end up twice as long as the first chapter this was supposed to be a short one!! general warnings/tags here

── .✦

Utah’s pretty this time of year. Fall is in full swing. The maple and cottonwood mellow into rich shades of orange, there is a constant crush of leaves underfoot, and the crisp scent of pine needles mingle with the breeze. Your neighbors go all out to decorate. Pumpkins are for sale on every corner and the apple orchards buzz with families for the harvest. This kind of weather has every brush of sunlight feeling like a hug you didn’t know you needed. 

The rec center hosts an annual fall festival, bringing hayrides, corn mazes, and costume contests. And though you wouldn’t normally volunteer on a Sunday, Steve’s hard to say no to. It’s not like he begged you or anything, a half-shrug and simple “If you want to” was enough convincing. 

You’d volunteer with or without Steve. You have the time and the goodwill and thus it’s a cork on the end of your monotonous work-week. But there’s no denying that Steve makes it a hell of a lot more enjoyable. He’s the sunrise after a long night, guiding you into the days ahead. And yeah, maybe you’re romanticizing too much. Too caught up in the way his tongue sticks out when he’s concentrating or how he mumbles to himself when he forgets you’re near. But working with him is delightful, nonetheless. 

You and Steve are friends now. Well, work friends. You’ve never actually hung out outside of the rec center but there isn’t a Friday that one of you doesn’t mention it while you eat lunch in his office. You’ve learned trivial little things about him, like his favorite brand of pen, the store he buys his groceries from, and how he likes his coffee– hot enough to burn, with as much sugar as he can get away with without attracting strange looks. You ask about Penelope often and he’s very open; eager to rant and rave about the latest details of their lives. She visits every now and then, usually too sick or naughty to be at school. So you’ve come to know her just as much. That she loves Barbies and Salt-N-Pepa and insects but not the furry ones. 

Being in each other’s lives is routine at this point– parking beside his car, leaving sticky notes on his desk, setting your bag in his office. It would be crazy to say you love him, you don’t, obviously, but you feel like you could. And you know you’d be devastated if he left the center. Your shift assignments are arranged so they almost always thread with his.

He’s always hated asking for help, but then you came, puttering into his office with a lovely smile and open arms and suddenly it’s not so bad. He’ll ask for your assistance on more projects than not: your advice, your creative eye, your hands to hang something that he most certainly could do alone. 

Like now, you trail only a few paces behind Steve, cradling a wicker basket full of decorations. He billows a tablecloth over the nearest picnic table, considering your dispute over the best holiday. 

“I dunno, I’m more of a Christmas guy,” Steve shrugs, smoothing out a ripple in the fabric. “The music is just inarguably better. You get to open presents and eat delicious food. Not really a contest in my book.” 

You hum, centering a plastic pumpkin. 

“Penelope is like the queen of Halloween, though.” The corners of his eyes crinkle with mirth. “This morning, she told me she wished she was born on Halloween so she could go trick-or-treating on her birthday.” 

You wear a similar expression, gaze flicking over to Penelope. She’s not far, crouched in a strip of dirt, parting a pile of leaves to search for ladybugs and other creatures. “I bet she’s excited for all that candy.” 

“That’s all she’d eat if I let her. I’ve already scheduled a dentist appointment for her in November– But, I’m just as bad, she gets her sweet tooth from me,” he admits. 

“Figured. The amount of Reese's wrappers I find in your trash.” 

He squeezes your shoulder playfully, not hard enough that you should need to squirm away but you do. “Whatever. Why are you going through my trash anyway, weirdo.” 

You click your tongue, “I wasn’t going through your trash! They are on the top where anyone could see.” 

“Mhmm, whatever you say… dumpster diver.” 

Joan, the youth counselor, whisks over to interrupt with arms full of mason jars before you can retort. Steve smothers his smirk with an answer to her question. Your tongue prods the inside of your cheek to prevent your own. 

It’s like this with Steve, now. Teasing and taunting each other like schoolchildren. A game of tug-of-war, where every knowing glance and light-hearted jab pulls the rope just a little tighter between you. It’s as thrilling as it is nerve-wracking. 

It’s not much later when guests filter into the festival. The earliest glow of sunset mists the courtyard in gold. There’s cider stations and pumpkin carving and a whole bunch of apple bobbers fighting to win a pumpkin pie. Monster Mash bleeds from several speakers lining the trail to the tented area you find yourself in. People dance and laugh and drink. It’s a very successful event for the rec center. 

Steve plops down on the bench across from you, Penelope at his hip. A silent, self-invitation he knows you won’t decline— you enjoy their company more than people-watching. He seems to find you no matter which way you drift, even through a sea of townsfolk. 

A big scoop of chili is spooned from his paper bowl into a second. “Blow on it,” Steve reminds, planting it in front of Penelope. 

She does blow on it, a spray of more spit than air that merits her a shoulder nudge to knock it off. 

Penelope simpers over her steaming food as Steve offers you an apologetic look. Last you saw her, she was waving her way up the stairs to the costume contest. She’s since been bundled up– a tiara traded for a knit beanie and the gown from her dress-up bin crammed underneath a thick sweater and spilling out the hem. 

The string lights bathe their faces in a white glow. It highlights the beauty mark on the slope of Penelope’s cheek, like a half of Steve’s pair in the same spot. It’s not often you get to just enjoy their company. No scrambling about deadlines or standards. It’s a calm you could get used to. But Steve’s always ten steps ahead, already plotting which crew needs the most tending to when he’s finished eating. He’s selfless like that. Your feet ache from running around, but Steve’s probably worse. 

“Penelope, is that what you’re wearing on Halloween?” You ask.

Her chin presses into the neckline of her sweater. “No,” she recalls, mouth full of sauce. “I’m being Dorothy.” 

Steve swipes a napkin across her lips before anything drips. 

“From The Wizard of Oz?” 

“Mhmm,” she grins, popping the spoon out of her mouth. 

“Very cool. Did you get your costume yet?” 

She nods, glancing at Steve, “Daddy made it.” 

Steve’s in his own little world, slurping his belly full of warm food and basking in the second of peace he‘s been given. But he blinks back into reality at your questioning stare, leaning in to hear you over the boisterous laughs of nearby people. 

You try to reel in your surprise, soften your features. “You made her costume?”

“Oh,” he waves a dismissive hand, “I just sewed a shirt to a dress. Nothing fancy.” 

“Still– that’s really cool, Steve.” 

He stirs his food, voice torn with guilt. “I dunno. It’s cheap.” 

“Costumes are better homemade. The ones in the stores are tacky. I bet it looks amazing.” 

Fragments of a smile find his lips, more a peace offering than a true one. 

“I painted my shoes red and I put so much glitter on them so they sparkle,” Penelope adds cheerfully.  

“You did?” 

She nods, shining with pride. 

“It’s been two weeks and I’m still finding glitter everywhere,” Steve comments, more amused than he lets on. He can’t be that mad when they’re little reminders of his favorite person in the world. 

“Are you dressing up?” You ask him. 

He huffs, side-eyeing Penelope. “Yes.” 

A glint forms in her eyes, a sly little smirk beneath. “Daddy is going to be the lion because he’s hairy.”

You laugh and Penelope joins you because Steve has a funny pouty face. 

He rolls his eyes. “Tell ‘em who’s your Toto?” 

“Cinderella!”

“No way!” You match her level of excitement. “Does she have a costume?” 

“No, but I have a basket for her to sit in.” 

You coo, “I bet Cinderella will love that.” 

Steve snorts because he knows you know Cinderella will in fact not love that. 

Cinderella is supposedly the grumpiest animal he’s ever met. She was a quick, unfortunately painful, lesson on boundaries for Penelope– not to pet certain areas or animals as a whole. Steve described her as an old, scraggly thing with a temper flaring unpredictably from one moment to the next. He wasn’t a cat person to begin with, growing up in a house with no animals probably started his revulsion to having fur on his clothes; but at two and a half, Penelope begged to feed the stray on their porch and she just kept coming back. 

Steve wanted a dog when he moved out, if anything at all; but in four years he’s learned more about sacrifice than any speech his parents tried to drill into his head. And Cinderella is practically Penelope’s best friend now. She sets aside birthday money for new cat toys– the crinkly ones are her favorite– and sneaks the cat through her bedroom window from time to time. She even cradles her like a baby, not without protest and the occasional scratch, of course, but Penelope knows the risk. 

“I told her Cinderella probably won’t want to come trick or treating but she can still take a picture with her at home.” 

“I told you she will want to go because there’s candy.” 

“Yes, but I told you cats can’t have candy,” Steve jabs her side lightly. 

Penelope only pouts. “That’s sad. I think she would like candy.” 

“It is,” he agrees, slotting a rogue strand of hair behind her ear. “But it makes them sick, remember? So we can’t share with Cinderella.” 

Her cheek melds with his sleeve, begrudgingly agreeing with a sigh. “Can I get my face painted?” 

Steve traces her line of sight to the ring of kids swarming the face painter. It’s not far. He can see well enough to recognize most of the children. Many are younger than Penelope too. 

But Steve hesitates, “Can you wait until I’m done eating? I’ll go with you.”

“Daddy,” she whines, pinching his arm hair. “You take forever.”

Penelope’s got magical little eyes. You don’t know how Steve ever says no. 

“I can take her,” you offer, stacking trash on your plate. “I’m done anyway.” 

“No, it’s okay.” He deflates with a sigh, curling into his ribs so he can see her face. “You can go by yourself–”

Her frown washes away just as fast as she peels herself off of his arm. 

“But! You have to come straight back when you’re done and you have to stay where I can see you. ‘Kay?” 

“‘Kay!” She beams, nearly tripping on her dress as she swings her legs over the bench and breaks into a run. 

Steve can’t hide the wobble in his smile as hard as he tries to be strong. Most of the hardships he’s faced as a parent are foreign to you, but clearly, this isn’t easy for him. 

“She’ll be fine,” you reassure with a ginger squeeze to his wrist. “We aren’t far if she needs something.” 

He nods, still locked in on Penelope. “I know, I know. I’m trying really hard not to be a helicopter parent as she gets older. It sucks though, feeling like she doesn’t need me anymore.” 

“Steve,” you deadpan, prying his attention back. “That’s… silly. You’re her dad, of course she still needs you. Maybe not all the time or as much but she’ll always need you.” 

“I dunno. I feel like she grows an inch every time I turn around. I never thought I’d say this, but I actually miss when she was in diapers. She’s cute now, but God was she cute then.” He chuckles to himself, eyes swinging from Penelope to you and then back. 

“I believe it,” you grin, admiring his girl. Her cheeks are red from the cold, like two tomatoes framing her lips. She might like to wear your jacket, you consider, but she’s so small, perhaps she’ll overheat from too many layers.

Penelope scrambles into the chair when it’s her turn, talking a mile a minute to the face painter. A funny wave of emotion roves over you. There’s affection and joy and and then something heavier and harder to describe. 

“I’ll have to show you her baby pictures sometime.” You hear the parting of a true smile. “There’s this one– it was her first birthday– I gave her a whole cake and she just demolished it. Had it in her hair and her eyelashes and in between her toes. She was so damn happy.” 

You exhale a happy hum, turning back to Steve. He’s propped on his elbows now, close enough to discern each eyelash from the next. It doesn’t startle you as much as it just scrapes the words right off your tongue. 

He’s reading you, churning, and chasing the right words all in between the blink of an eye. “We should hang out, you know? Like actually– We always talk about it but…” He shakes his head, trailing off. 

He’d let the words be carried with the wind if you wanted. It’s hard to imagine you’d say no, but people have surprised him in worse ways. Just when he thinks he knows someone, truly knows them, they cut him off like he’s no more than a dying branch. The ghosts of past someones and somethings still haunt him. It makes being so forward with you all the more difficult. 

You wear a whimsical sort of grin that you hide behind the brush of your hand, fighting your own flood of emotions. “Yeah– I mean, yeah. When?” 

Excitement flares across his features. “What are you doing on Halloween? You could come trick-or-treating with us?”

“Probably just home handing out candy– but Steve, I don’t want to intrude on Halloween. It sounds really special to Penelope.”

“You wouldn’t! No way, Penelope would be thrilled if you came. She talks about you a lot, you know?” 

“No she doesn’t,” you grin madly into your palm, peering over to her. Her face is dressed in a bright shade of orange now. With her pudgy cheeks, she reminds you of a little pumpkin. 

“She does! Swear it– on my life.” He’s not lying. He can’t hold your eyes when he lies, even about silly things. 

You huff, feeling foolishly giddy. “I don’t have time to get a costume, Steve.” 

“Nonsense. We can find you one. I’ll make it if I have to. The Tin Man and The Scarecrow are still up for grabs.” 

You swallow, washing the sudden dryness from your throat. Why does Steve have to be so damn cute and sweet all at once? “I dunno. Would it be fine if I didn’t dress up?” 

He chuckles dryly. “Penelope won’t have that, I can tell you that much. Plus if I’m going to be tortured into some itchy lion onesie I expect you’ll do the same.” He’s teasing, which is typical for you both, but it’s like you’ve forgotten how. 

“Steve.”

“Come on. If not for me, for Penelope. She’ll love it.” 

“Okay,” you settle. But you aren’t really settling. He could ask you to dress up on any other day of the year and you’d do it. 

Penelope races over– a tabby cat with long whiskers and a pastel pink nose– yelling, “Daddy, look!”

Steve beams at her like he stuck a lightbulb in his mouth, somehow brighter than before. “I see! You look so pretty, princess.” 

“I’m like Cinderella.”

“You are!” He pats her former seat beside him until she sits. 

Her long lashes flutter questioningly. 

“Nell, don’t you think we need, I dunno, like a Tinman or a Scarecrow to go with our costumes on Halloween?” 

She tracks his gaze over to you, adopting your smirk. “Are you coming trick-or-treating with us?” Her voice is uneven and bubbly with anticipation. 

“Do you want me to?” You ask genuinely. 

Penelope’s tongue wriggles in her mouth like she can’t find the proper words to express what she feels. But she nods in this bashful way against Steve’s shoulder that surprises you. 

“Are we being shy now?” Steve remarks, pulling her into his arms effortlessly to peck her hairline. 

“No,” she whines against his sweater, overjoyed to be smothered in love. Dry paint creases with her scrunched face. It’s an adorable sight. You keep wishing you had a camera on you because this is the kind of thing Steve probably puts in his photo albums. 

The moon climbs the sky quickly, draping the party in a silver veil. Many stay for the campfire and the promise of smores. But the later it gets, the crankier kids become for their parents. Penelope’s no exception, whining and clinging to Steve until he agrees to hold her. And he tries to work still, but his arms are starting to burn and stamping hayride tickets isn’t easy one-handed so he makes the hard choice to leave before cleanup. 

He feels awful, apologizing to several of his coworkers on the way out but most are too drunk on cider or too high on festive cheer to care. Besides, he’s paid a salary, doing this out of the kindness of his heart. He has no obligation to be here– you’d reminded him of that multiple times. But the festival does feel empty when they leave, even with half the town still around. 

ᯓ★

Steve lives in a quiet pocket outside of town on a curvy, secluded stretch of road. The directions he’d scrawled out on a receipt weren’t as useful as you’d hoped as one of the street names you were intended to turn on was smudged beyond legibility. But you made it, parked in front of a white house with a similarly white picket fence. Steve’s beamer is idled to your right. It’s strange seeing it somewhere that’s not the rec center. But it’s a familiar comfort between so much new. 

There’s a tire swing knotted to the oak tree in the yard, a collection of painted rocks in the pebble-lined path up to the house, and two carved pumpkins set outside the door, caving in on themselves but not yet rotting. A lot of love is shared here.  

Penelope answers the door when you knock. She’s half dressed– stockings hugging a pair of fleece leggings and a flowy pajama tank top. Her eyes outline your costume and light up with approval. 

You sport a flannel and denim overalls stuffed with prickly straw straight from the local farm, courtesy of Steve. But Penelope ogles your face paint more than anything– a stitched grin and two circles for blush. You hope it’s not scary looking. 

She doesn’t know how to let you inside– she’s not supposed to answer the door after all– so she hangs clumsily off the door handle until you ask, “Can I come in?” 

“Yes,” she teeters out of the way, closing the door behind you with a sweeping grin— the mischievous kind that makes you wonder what she’s up to.

The foyer is situated between the living room and kitchen, both of which are missing Steve. 

“Where’s your dad?” 

“Umm. Cleaning?” 

“Oh. Are you getting ready to go?”

“Yes, but I can’t find my shoes,” she makes a strangled face and shrugs with her entire wingspan.

“Do you want me to help you look?” 

She nods, “I think they’re in my closet.”

Penelope sprints up the stairs easily, leaning over the railing at the top until you hesitantly follow. You hope he won’t mind. You were technically let in. 

It reeks of chemicals upstairs. You stifle a cough and hope it’s Steve, not some science experiment in Penelope’s room. But you don’t worry long. The culprit swings around the corner, juggling several bottles of solutions and sprays. Steve would’ve barreled straight into you had you not thrust your arms out in defense, but still, all his things scatter across the floor. 

“Christ, you scared me.” He kneels, tucking a roll of paper towels against his chest. “Nell, you can’t answer the door without me.” 

“I looked in the window.”

You hand him a sanitizer and shimmy your hat back into place. It’s too big and far too floppy, sagging over your brows no matter how you situate it. Amusement draws his cheeks up as he realizes. You look ready to plop yourself in the middle of someone’s crops and he’s in a tee and jeans you might find him in any other day. His smiley-staring only makes you feel sillier. 

“The straw’s really a nice touch, huh?” Steve teases, picking a sandy stem from your collar with his free hand. He’s got that smirk you so often find on Penelope’s lips. 

You yank the strand from his grasp and poke the column of his throat with it. “I’m definitely more itchy than you’ll be.” 

His fingers encase the entirety of your fist like a shell. They’re knobby and mannish, stout against your own. But there’s a tenderness to his hold as he eases your fist away. You don’t push back, though you contemplate it. He’s never touched you for so long; he’s basically holding your hand. 

“Could’ve been the Tinman,” he says, releasing your fingers at your thigh. 

You suck in, like fuel for a reply, and exhale a breathy, nervous laugh. “And paint my entire body gray? No thanks.” 

He chuckles, eyes darting behind you. “Well, you look great. You like it, Nell?” 

You’d almost forgotten she was there. She’s quiet as a mouse when she wants to be. 

Penelope bobs her head behind you, patiently watching from the doorway to her room. “I have oh-ralls like that.” 

“You do,” Steve confirms, fidgeting with the nozzle on the disinfectant bottle. It reminds you of the smell. 

“You kill someone?” 

He stiffens. “What?” 

You flick the bottle of Windex, serious facade fading. “Smells like you’re trying to cover it up.” 

“Oh! No,” his shoulders soften, “Just a little spring cleaning… in fall.” 

You hum gaily. “I like your house.” 

“You do?” His voice is light, buoyant with relief. “I can give you a tour. A proper one.” 

“I would but I’ve promised a patient little lady I’d help her find her shoes first.”

Penelope beams when you glimpse at her. “I think they’re in my closet,” she shares with Steve. 

“I think so too,” he says, eyeing past her. “What happened to cleaning?” 

“I was but I had to find my costume first.” 

“It’ll be easier to find when your room’s clean.” He sends you a look, “Don’t let her trick you into cleaning for her. She’s sneaky.” Steve whispers the last part, loud and teasing. 

“I’m not sneaky!” 

“Mhmm. I’ll go get ready and then come help you, Nell.” 

“Then trick-or-treat?” 

“Yes,” he starts down the stairs, “Yell if you need me.” 

Penelope tows you into her room by the arm, unphased by the clinking of toys crammed behind the door. Anything in her way gets kicked or shoved aside without a second thought. It’s like her toy chest exploded, a kaleidoscope of pink and purple across the carpet. And no wonder it’s a mess; she starts chucking things out of her closet, adding to the pile spilling out like an avalanche—books, stuffed animals, barbie dolls, baby dolls, and so so many clothes. 

You squeeze by a play tent, scanning the floor. 

“They’re red and sparkly, ‘member?” Penelope calls from behind her closet doors. 

You tip a beanbag over with your foot, “I remember.” 

She babbles to herself as she looks, just like Steve does– little hums and scraps of thought that are hard to catch. It’s a funny thing, to see it translated from one human to another. 

It doesn’t take long to find the shoes, wedged underneath her bed with numerous other things. You go prone against the floor to dig them out and hold them up by the straps. “These it, Pen?” 

She gasps vibrantly. You wish you got up in time to see her face. 

“How did you know they were under there!” She shrieks, snatching them from you. 

“Just had a feeling,” you sit up properly, happily watching her slip the flats on. 

She practically twinkles, clicking her heels together like Dorothy. 

“They look stunning! You painted these?” 

“Yes,” she skips over to her dresser, shuffling through drawer after drawer. Anything folded surely isn’t anymore. 

“You’re a talented artist.” 

“I know. Daddy says.” Penelope yanks out a blue line of fabric. “My dress is so pretty. I’m going to be the prettiest Dorothy for Halloween.” 

“I know you will! You should give your dad a big hug for making such a pretty dress.” 

She buckles into the costume as fast as she can, patting the skirt down with a satisfied grin when it’s on. 

After several compliments and much debate, you’re able to convince her Dorothy would have a clean room. Penelope puts a few things away, but she’s easily distracted. And it’s hard to blame her with so many toys about. So you do most of the cleaning, but you’re happy to. It’ll make Steve happy– lest he finds out it was you– which makes you happy. 

The floor’s mostly cleared when Penelope decides Steve’s taking too long; it’s time for your house tour, with or without him. And when he doesn’t answer her shout it’s decidedly without him. She shows you downstairs first– the living room, the kitchen, the half bath, her favorite hiding spot underneath the stairs. All the while she explains her very detailed and strategic trick-or-treating plan. Staying out until midnight is the priority, she doesn’t seem to care if it’s past her bedtime, and filling several bags with candy is also high on the list. 

“And this is Daddy’s room.” She jerks the door knob several times before yelling, “Daddy!” 

“What?” Steve calls, muffled. 

“Let us in!”

“I can’t hear you– hold on!” 

Steve unlocks the door donning the promised lion onesie and a pair of sneakers. It’s ridiculous how handsome he looks even with a stupid fur collar and tail. 

“Cute,” is all you manage to say. He takes it as teasing, rolling his eyes, though you really mean it. 

“Can you help me? I can’t get my whiskers right.” He taps the cap of an eyeliner pen against his cheek where he’s drawn two lines. 

“Sure.” You take the stick and follow him through his room to the master ensuite. 

“Wait!” Penelope shouts and waves vaguely at the room. “This is Daddy’s room.”

You pause to look it over, jovially commenting, “Wow! Very nice.” 

And it is nice. There’s a rustic set of furniture striped in blue and green accents; paired well with the framed floral prints above his dresser. And the bed’s made, only slightly surprising, topped with a Care Bear’s quilt you assume is Penelope’s. 

In the bathroom, Steve leans against the counter, arms braced behind him on the sink rim. You shuffle in front of his legs, skimming knees accidentally. He has no abhorrence for physical touch, you know that for certain. He’s touchy with not just you, but everyone in the office. An arm around the shoulder, a pat on the back, a gentle squeeze to the arm– he gives these out like candy on Halloween. But even so, touching him isn’t always easy. It’s vulnerable, runs the risk of rejection. 

Steve smiles at you, ever-patient and encouraging when you stall awkwardly. 

“Sorry,” you whisper. Talking any louder feels illegal when he’s so close. You cup his jaw and steady your opposite hand against his cheek, picturing the line how you want it. 

But just when you press into his skin and flick the pen, Penelope slams a drawer shut, startling you enough to flinch. The ink slants all the way behind his ear like a jagged nail. 

You gasp and recoil, “Shit.” 

Penelope gasps twice as loud and Steve crumples into laughter, even more so when he turns to view the damage in the mirror. 

“Oops,” you chuckle nervously, thumbing at the black streak. “This washes off right?” 

“Yeah, don’t worry. I’ve redone it like four times.” 

You douse your finger in water and work the pad across his happy cheek gently. 

He’s watching you. You don’t see, just feel it in the fringe of your peripherals. It’s not like he has many places to look when you’re a hair’s breadth from his nose. But he might as well press a magnifying glass against your face, point out every pore and blemish and hair you're insecure about. 

Your cheeks burn and the beginning prickles of sweat coat your upper lip. You brushed your teeth before you arrived, but how could you forget a mint? And what about an extra layer of deodorant? That wouldn’t have hurt. You glance at Steve anxiously and his eyes jump to Penelope. For once you’re grateful not to keep his attention. 

Penelope digs through his cabinet on a quest to find nothing in particular. 

You pull away to judge your first line as Steve opens his mouth. “Nell, go get your brush and hair ties.” 

The top half of her face pops up over the cupboard door like a puppet. “But I want my hair down.” 

“I still have to brush it. And I thought you wanted the bows?” 

She considers his words– her prior words– brows pinching before she shrugs, “Okay.” The cabinet door thuds against its hinges as it claps shut, and not a second later, Steve’s bedroom door slams as Penelope charges out. 

“You would not believe how often I tell this kid not to slam the doors,” he scoffs, though it’s devoid of any real anger. 

You take his chin again, packing away a grin. You have to focus. “Don’t move,” you prompt. 

He’s relaxed in your hold. Still as a stone, maybe apart from the slight tug of his lips when you resume drawing. 

“Tickles,” he murmurs when you lift the nib. 

You print another three to match the trio on his right. It’s not bad, but you wouldn’t say it’s good. The angles are skewed weird and one’s shorter than the rest. But if he wants them any better, you might not be the best person to ask. 

“How’s that?” You draw back, searching for any smudges. 

He spins, briefly inspecting his reflection before facing you again. “Perfect! Thank you!”

Perfect is definitely a stretch. 

Steve’s a perfectionist. You’ve seen it innumerably in the office. How he’ll spend hours revising something only to ruminate on an insignificant detail after. And with Penelope, every parenting decision is subject to endless second-guessing, as if her health and happiness hinges on the smallest nuances. 

But as much as he’s a perfectionist, Steve would never judge you in the same way he might himself. Your whiskers truly are perfect in his eyes, not for the shape or size, but because you drew them– wonky and all. 

The ink warps around his smile. You study his face under the guise of checking your work. Steve’s a handsome guy. An inviting kind of handsome, with shallow laugh lines and the start of stubble stippled across his jaw.  

“Wait,” you square his shoulders, brushing the nape of his neck to reach for his hood. The lion’s mane is laid gently over the top of his hair. 

“Now it’s perfect.” 

He smirks. “Sexy, huh?”

“Should leave this unzipped a little. The cougars will love that.” 

Steve laughs, harder than you think you’ve ever heard him. It’s so contagious even Penelope joins your hysterics when she returns, though she hasn’t a clue what you’re laughing about. 

“What’s so funny?” Penelope lurches into his legs with a handful of hair things. 

“We just think my costume’s kinda silly. Here, baby.” Steve heaves her onto the counter and props her right in between the sinks. 

Her dress pours over her crossed legs like a layered cake, baby blue and white gingham. Steve really did a great job with the stitching; you can’t even tell it was done by hand. And Penelope hasn’t complained about the fit once so it must be comfortable too. 

“Face forward please,” Steve reminds gently for a third time when Penelope twists her neck to speak. 

Penelope frowns at his reflection. “You’re pulling too tight.”

“Sorry. You have to stop moving though.” 

There’s a mild curve to his lips. He’s not aggravated with her fidgeting, in fact, quite the opposite. Maybe because you’re around, he’s in too good of a mood to spoil with something as trivial as his daughter's hair. But regardless, it’s endearing as it is entertaining to care for Penelope. He loves being a dad, even when it’s frustrating. And you can see the love as he braids her hair– how he cards through knots from the ends up and slowly sections off pieces to tackle one at a time. 

“I’m not moving.” Her chin droops as she scratches the polish from her nails. 

Steve cups her jaw, steering it back up. “You are, monkey.” 

“Monkey?” She chortles, seeking your gaze in the mirror to see if you also find the nickname funny. 

“Yeah,” Steve murmurs, seizing the rubber band from between his teeth. “Monkeys move a lot.” 

“Do they have tails?”

“Mhmm.”

“You have a tail 'cause you’re a lion.” 

Steve hums and bends back, evaluating his performance. “There. You look so gorgeous, Penelope.” 

And he really has done a great job, especially with all her wiggles. Steve takes a lot of pride in styling his hair– much of his confidence derives from it. And he tries to extend that care to Penelope; to teach her how gorgeous she is and that she deserves to be nurtured. 

Penelope shakes her head disapprovingly. “I’m Dorothy now, Dad.” 

“Oh, sorry.” Steve turns toward you instinctually, happy to catch your smile. 

“You look very very pretty, Miss Dorothy,” you correct. 

She slides off the counter, aided by Steve’s hand. “Can we go now?” 

Penelope waits patiently in the foyer for Steve to gather everything needed to leave. This lasts for all of about ten minutes before Penelope is halfway out the front door, too excited to wait any longer. 

“Wait, Nell!” Steve shouts from beside you in the kitchen. 

You’re choosing snacks and filling water bottles. Steve doesn’t really need to pack a bag for Penelope anymore, she’s a year and a half past diapers, but he likes to feel prepared. 

When Penelope doesn’t answer, he meets her on the porch to explain, “I’m almost done. And we still have to take pictures.” 

“I don’t wanna. I’m ready to leave.” 

“Well, we aren’t leaving until I get a picture of Dorothy.” 

She sighs, lugging herself back inside like she’s got bricks for shoes. “What about Cinderella?” 

“Go and look– get the treats.” 

She scrambles into the kitchen, snagging a jar of cat treats from the counter quickly. You shoulder the backpack and follow her out. Steve joins you not long after, two flashlights and several glowsticks in hand. 

“No Cinderella?” Steve asks, unzipping the bag pressed to your back to stock with more things. 

“No,” Penelope pouts, vigorously shaking the jar in the air. “How can I be Dorothy without Toto.” 

He yanks the zipper back up, then pats her head, “Keep calling. Where’s your jacket?”

“I don’t need it.”

“You will. It’s gonna get cold later. When it’s dark.” 

“It’ll mess up my costume. Dorothy doesn’t wear one.” 

“Let's bring it, just in case. I’ll carry it.” 

Steve jogs back inside, coming out this time with a camera around his neck, a jacket over his shoulder, and a plushie in hand. 

“Here,” he sets a blue stuffed dog on Penelope’s lap. “Backup Toto.” 

Penelope glares up at him, insulted. “This isn’t Toto.” 

“I know. But if we wait for Cinderella we might not have time for trick-or-treating. Why don’t we bring the treats? See if she’s started without us?” 

Penelope deflates, stuffing the dog in her wicker basket. 

“Can I take your picture now?”

“Why, Daddy?” 

“So I can remember how beautiful you look tonight.” 

A petulant bow creases her lips as she peers up. Round, sullen eyes connect with his. 

Steve squats in front of her, taking her much smaller free hand in his. “I know you’re sad about Cinderella but she’d still want you to have fun, right? And she might show up later. I just want to get a picture now so I don’t forget.” 

Penelope nods and Steve kisses her forehead, standing and backing up a few paces. 

“Smile, baby. Please?” He blinks at her through the viewfinder. 

She offers a strangled face– more of a toothy open mouth than a smile; not even close to wide enough to round her cheeks or crescent her eyes like the real deal. But it’s funny and just as cute. Steve snaps a photo and the expression drains from her face as fast as the camera’s flash.

You wander behind Steve and her eyes flick to you. You try funny faces first, frowning so deep your jaw aches, pulling the tip of your nose up like a pigs, winking terribly, but none of it works. Your fingers arch into bunny ears behind Steve’s hair and you stick your tongue out at the back of his head, but still, no dice. 

You have a really awful idea. You’re pretty sure you might die of embarrassment. But it’s worth it to get Penelope to smile. 

“Hey, Penelope? Remember when you told me dinosaurs are silly?” 

She nods. 

“Well, I have a really good dinosaur impression. Can I show you?” 

She nods again, equally jaded. 

You take a deep breath and shake your head, mentally preparing yourself and simultaneously erasing Steve from existence for the moment. A feral screech erupts from the back of your throat, the kind of sound you didn’t know for sure you could make. 

Steve buckles in his crouch, barely catching himself on the pavement with his free hand. A chorus of emotions ripple his features. He’s shocked and then amused and finally focused on capturing the picture, but what resonates the most is a fondness for you. 

You cup a hand over your mouth, rendering a string of different noises, inspired by several animals because what the hell does a dinosaur sound like anyway? You haven’t the faintest clue at the moment.   

Penelope fuses her lips together, unbreaking. 

“Come on Nell, I see that smile,” Steve rallies. 

But she doesn’t give up easy. She’s like Steve in that way. 

As a last resort, you press your lips to your mouth, blowing a raspberry and screwing your face in disgust. “Oh my God, Steve! Did you just fart?” 

He gapes at you, then Penelope, tickled and tongue-tied for comebacks. He can’t think straight, not when you’re making a delightful fool out of yourself, on his behalf, especially. As far as he’s concerned, Penelope’s smiling now or at least failing awfully at hiding it. So he takes several photos of her as she unravels into a giggly heap on the driveway. 

Certainly one of them is photo-album-worthy, but you continue your stunts anyway. “Goodness, what did you eat today?” You backpedal a few steps, fanning the surrounding air, partially to hide your own laugh. “Penelope do you smell that?” 

“Ew! Daddy!” 

You aren’t sure if Penelope actually believes you or if she just wants to join the fun but either way, she’s convincing. 

“I didn’t do it!” Steve defends, dropping the camera on its sling and raising his hands in surrender. “I think it was Penelope this whole time.” 

You gasp. “Penelope!” 

“I didn’t!” She cries, shaking her head aggressively. “I promise, I didn’t!” 

“I dunno. The closer I get the more stinky it smells.” Steve slinks up to her with outstretched hands that threaten tickles. 

She screams when he snatches her up, swearing up and down, “I didn’t, Daddy!” 

He’s well-practiced at being the tickle monster; knows every sensitive strip of skin to target. She was doomed from the start. Giggles spill out in jagged layers punctuated with gasps of air. Steve tickles her all the way down the driveway to the car, out of breath himself by the time he sets her on the trunk. 

Penelope deliriously eyes his hands where they rest on the beamer. 

“You ready to go trick-or-treating, Little Miss Dorothy?” You ask. 

She nods, dimples deepening with mirth.

“Here. Will you start it?” Steve fishes his keys out of his pocket and tosses them to you. “Come on, pretty girl.” 

She slides into her car seat happily, bouncing with excitement as he buckles her in. Steve’s told you before it’s not always so easy. 

“I really didn’t fart,” Penelope says. 

He chuckles, sewing a kiss to her cheek, “I know, baby. We’re just kidding.” 

Steve settles into the driver’s seat, depositing the stack of developed polaroids in your lap. You shuffle through as he backs out, flashing him your favorites; the best is one where she’s planted a hand on her hip and is rolling her eyes. You adore this little drama queen more and more every day. 

The drive’s only a few minutes, just to a denser part of the neighborhood to avoid long stretches with no houses. Steve parks against an empty grass lot behind another car. This area’s already bustling with kids which adds to Penelope’s anticipation. 

“Daddy, look– it’s Minnie Mouse!” 

Steve inspects the crowd through the window. “Yeah, you remember when you were Minnie Mouse?” 

“I was?” 

“Mhmm. You had ears and I painted your face. You were little.” He unbuckles, grabbing the backpack stashed at your feet. 

“Oh. Am I still little?” 

He pauses to melt, just to himself and only a bit. It’s too early to be sentimental– a long night of fun awaits. Steve cranes over his seat to see her face. “Yes, you’re still little. But you’re growing a lot. I think you might be as tall as me, one day.” 

“Nooo,” she giggles, waving her foot at him. 

“I dunno,” he sing-songs back, squeezing her shoe before turning back around. 

Steve distributes a handful of glowsticks, shoving a few extra in Penelope’s basket. You guys start down the block as the sun sinks below the treeline, more than enough time to complete Penelope’s plan which she reminds you of. She takes Steve’s hand, then yours, and it strikes you suddenly how much you appear as a family to outsiders. It’s not an unwelcome feeling, just a strange one. 

At the first house, Penelope knocks hard and declares to the elderly woman who answers, “Trick or treat!” She repeats it, insisting with wide eyes that she deserves two pieces of candy for her double effort. And the woman can’t resist her charm, obliging with a handful of pieces. Steve jokes it off, calls her a bargainer, but you gawk at the interaction. 

At the second house, she points to you and Steve, arguing you deserve candy too since you’re both in costume. And it works, scoring you each a piece that ends up in her tote anyway. By the third, you can’t keep a straight face, her antics are hilariously cute and you compliment Steve for raising such a little mastermind. 

You fall into a routine steadily, loafing along the road with Steve while Penelope trots up to each house. 

“Last year she was Snow White and the year before a cat,” Steve explains when you ask. 

“She likes princesses’.” 

“Less so now but yeah. She used to say she wanted to be a princess when she grew up.” 

“Can’t blame her.” You watch her fondly from afar. She picks a piece of candy off the ground and debates before tossing it in with the others. “What does she wanna be now?” 

“Changes all the time. Last it was a detective.” He beckons Penelope over. “Nell, what do you want to be when you grow up?” 

She fiddles with her basket handle. You’ve done two streets and it’s almost full. You're starting to think you’ll have to buy a pillowcase off of someone.

“Umm… Can I be a trick-or-treater?” 

“What!” Steve flips her braid over her shoulder, “That’s just for one day, goofball.” 

“Well… then,” she hums, squinting at the surrounding swarm of characters and creatures. “Maybe a pirate?” 

You and Steve share a look of amusement. You do that a lot now. It’s instinctual. Finding each other's eyes, even in a room full of people it’s easy. Sometimes there’s just too much joy not to share. 

“Daddy, how many houses are left?” 

“There’s quite a few on this street. You tired?” 

“No. Can I see? I want to count.” 

She doesn’t seem tired to you but Steve’s able to read her with the tiniest details. It’s like he’s got superpowers sometimes– dad superpowers. But maybe he’s just guessing, it’s getting closer to bedtime.

Steve boosts her onto his shoulders with a hefty groan about “getting old” which you bicker over because he’s only twenty-six. 

Penelope counts eleven houses, eight with lights on, but buzzes about a particular home illuminated with rainbow LEDs and a giant spider. And it’s even cooler than she described up close, mansion-like, decked out with spotlights and decorations taller than you and Steve combined.

A motionless clown holds a bloody bucket of candy outside. Their decorations are so extravagant, it’s hard to tell what’s real and what’s fake. But you’re pretty sure the clown just blinked and you make sure Steve’s aware of that, not that he was letting Penelope go alone anyway. 

Steve scoops Penelope up before she gets very far up the driveway despite her complaints. 

“I’m not scared, Daddy,” she assures. And there’s nothing that tells you she is– she’s just as cheery and bright-eyed as before. 

“I know, princess.” He rubs her arm, scanning for other statues with the potential to come alive. “I’m kinda scared, though.” 

She tips her head at him, puzzled because it’s always the other way around. But her arms coil around his neck, a loving press of affection that she learned from him. 

And whether he’s actually afraid to be jumpscared or just subconsciously ingraining in her that it’s okay if she is, you aren’t really sure. Probably both, and either way, it warms your insides. 

The clown cocks its head slowly when Penelope reaches in the bowl. 

She cocks her head back, innocently amused. “Trick-or-treat?” 

The clown nods, pushing the bowl toward her. 

Steve sags just a hair but remains very much on high alert. 

You mouth your appreciation— “Thanks.” Thanks for not scaring my coworker-friends-child who I’ve grown really fond of and would hate to see cry. 

“Daddy, can we go in there?” Penelope points to a tunnel opening, fringed with black streamers and flashing lights– some sort of haunted house walk-through that wraps around the home. 

“No, baby. That’s for big kids.” 

She spots a group of teenagers exit the other side, screaming, laughing, and doubling over each other into the grass. 

“I really wanna go– please, I’ll be so brave. I’m not even scared,” she pleads, flashing him a wobbly frown. 

But there’s no expression she could pull right now that would change his mind, not when he hears a chainsaw buzzing inside. She could throw herself on the ground and kick and cry and he’d still refuse. He knows enough kids that have been traumatized by horror-movie-type creatures and characters; he’ll be damned if his daughter becomes one of them. 

Penelope sulks for a few houses but she has loads more candy to collect and decides not to waste her time for too long. 

“Can you hold this?” She thrusts her basket toward Steve. It’s overflowing at this point; you’ve all started cramming candy in your pockets, hoping it’s cold enough outside that nothing melts. Steve’s been beating himself up for three blocks for forgetting the backpack in the car. 

“Sure,” he says, retracting his hand from his pocket.

But before he takes it, you joke, “Better keep an eye on him. He might eat some when you’re not lookin’.”

Penelope studies him for a long moment before shifting the bag toward you. 

“Penelope! You don’t really believe that do you?” He scoffs, breathily laughing.

You cackle as she shrugs and sprints to the next house. 

Steve bumps your shoulder, snaking a hand in the basket to steal a pack of M&Ms off the top. “Blowin’ my whole operation.” 

“Steve,” you scold and bump him back. “Don’t get me in trouble.” 

“She won’t notice.” He waves you off, tearing the wrapper with his teeth. “But if she does I’m saying it was you.” 

You whack his arm, glowing bright as the moon, “Asshole.” 

Penelope doesn’t complain about her feet aching once the whole night and you know they probably do because yours started hurting forever ago. Surely she gets some kid-sized Oscar for that. And Steve being the great dad he is offers to carry her on the way back to the car anyway. 

“Daddy?” 

Steve hums, hoisting her up where she slips. 

“Can we go trick or treating tomorrow?”

He glances at you, confirming you also hear this cuteness. “No, baby. Tomorrow’s not Halloween.”

“I know, but we should still go. I bet lots of people still have candy. Like, leftovers.” She yawns into his shoulder where his fur hood has been tugged down to warm his neck and double as a makeshift pillow. 

“Don’t you have enough candy?”

“No. I need more Reese’s for you.”

“You’re gonna give them to me?”

“Only some. I like them too.” 

“That’s kind of you.” 

Her eyes are half-lidded and struggling, but she’s still awake as Steve stows her into her car seat. She chatters sluggishly to keep herself up and you and Steve entertain it; it’ll make bedtime easier if she doesn’t fall asleep in the car. Perhaps handing her a pack of Smarties was overkill because apparently, it has enough sugar to wire her longer than the five-minute drive home. 

No slower than Steve can lock the front door, Penelope dumps the contents of her bag on the floor. A bouquet of candy wrappers, big and small, enough to last her months if she’s patient. 

“You can have five more pieces tonight.” 

Penelope smirks at Steve before he’s even finished. “Ten?” 

“Six. But you have to brush your teeth for twice as long.” Before she can rebuttal he shakes his head. “Final offer.” 

“Fine,” she huffs, combing through her pile. She sorts them into categories while Steve prepares her bath. It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown is already on– Steve has a bad habit of forgetting to turn the TV off when he leaves– but you find the remote when Penelope asks you to turn the volume up. 

“You can have these,” she announces, pushing a chunk of her goodies toward you. It’s mostly things she doesn’t like: twizzlers and dark chocolate and anything with peanuts. But she did sneak in one of your favorites you’d mentioned earlier that night. She really is a sweetheart. 

“Thank you, Penelope. That’s very nice of you.” 

“These are for Daddy,” she points to a second pile, smacking loudly on the gummy bear she just decapitated. “He loves chocolate but he got a cavity once because he ate too much.” 

“Are you talking about me?” Steve hollers, clambering down the stairs two at a time. 

“No?” Penelope giggles. 

His hands snap to his hips once he treks into the living room. “Alright, it’s bath time then bedtime Miss Dorothy.”

Penelope looks utterly betrayed. She’s only eaten three things and– “It’s not even late yet,” she whines. 

He pretends to check his watch, “It is.” 

It’s not but she can’t tell time yet. 

“Can we watch Oz, Daddy, please? There’s no school tomorrow, ‘member?”

“We watched it last night, peanut. Why don’t we watch a Halloween movie?” 

Peanut, pumpkin, princess, he calls her all sorts of cute things. Is it wrong to wish he called you cute things too? 

“I wanna watch Oz. I’m Dorothy so we have to.” She drags out the last syllable until she runs out of breath. 

Penelope’s over-tired. Delirious and whiny and easily hysterical when she doesn’t get her way. And it’s not that Steve thinks he should give in when she’s like this, he’s just tired too. And you’re here and it’s the weekend so what will one movie really do? He can guarantee she’ll fall asleep during it anyway. 

“Okay. Only if you’re super-duper fast in the bath.”

She shouts and whizzes upstairs. 

Steve diverts his attention to you, “You wanna stay? I can make popcorn.” 

Of course, you’d love to stay, and not just for the promise of popcorn, but you’re afraid if you do, you’ll never want to leave. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He makes a face– a ridiculously lovely one. “Go sit. We’ll be quick.” 

They aren’t quick but there are photo albums on the coffee table that you’re happy to look through in the meantime. You flick through beats of their life like stills of a movie. There are baby photos, school pictures, movie stubs, plane tickets, and several people you don’t know the names of. It’s weird– getting snippets of things about them you had no idea of. You’re filling the gaps as you go. 

Penelope returns first, frolicking her way to the entertainment center in fresh pajamas. She’s on a mission by the looks of it, making a mess of the VHS collection in the cabinet. By the time Steve arrives, most of the films are splayed across the carpet. 

“Oz is already in, silly goose. We watched it yesterday remember?” 

Penelope drops the tape in her hands, “Oh.” 

Steve hunches over her, slotting the films away one by one. She doesn’t help much, but he doesn’t seem to mind. 

Penelope clambers onto the couch beside you and Steve beside her. It’s a long sectional, enough room for several others. But Penelope scoots in right beside you so you're hip to hip. And Steve makes himself comfortable more in the middle cushion than the farthest. 

His onesie has been traded for sweats and his whiskers scrubbed away– though a faded, gray smear crosses his jawline. You consider telling him, or licking your thumb and scratching it away yourself, but it makes you feel less weird to be the only one still in costume so you let it stay. 

“I like these,” you tug the cotton pant leg of Penelope’s outfit. It’s a matching set, frilly and plaid with a black cat stamped to the torso.

She tucks her lower lip away sheepishly and pushes her crown into your shoulder. Her hair's damp, soaking your sleeve cold, but you fawn at the affection more than anything. 

“Did you find that picture? From her first birthday? I think it’s in there.” Steve gestures toward the closed album in your lap with the remote but remains glued to the TV. 

“No, I didn’t finish looking.”

“I wanna see,” Penelope arches over your legs, prying the book open. 

Steve rewinds the film to the start and pauses it so he can look too. 

You thumb the plastic sheet over a recent image of Penelope scrunching her nose at the camera, a riot of stickers across her face. 

“RoRo!” She taps the photo beside it. It’s a haphazard blur, most likely captured by Penelope; you make out the shape of Steve first, then the less angular, slightly shorter person– a woman, RoRo. You think Penelope’s mentioned her before but nothing about the picture rings any bells. 

“Mhmm. That’s Robin. Remember this was at the airport?” 

“Is that when we got pizza?” 

“Yeah!” Steve rubs her arm. “You have a good memory.”  

You turn the page, revealing a set of grainy, blue-tinted photos from the same roll of film. Steve looks young for his age now, but he looked like a baby then. Strangely though when there’s an actual infant in his arms. He was thinner then but even softer in the face. Not unhappy, per se, but maybe missing a lightness he has now.  

“This was on my twenty-third birthday,” he explains. “Look how little you were!”

“Did I eat cake?” 

“No, you were too young, baby.” He chuckles, pointing to another photo. “You tried a banana for the first time in this one.”

“I like bananas.”

“You didn’t used to.” 

Steve and Penelope share slices of their pasts fondly. You study the photos, compare these reflections to the people you find yourself next to. There’s an unexpected pinch in your chest– not getting the chance to know these versions of them, it makes you sad. But it’s a happy sort of sad. You’re grateful to know them now. 

Penelope begs to flip through another album but Steve decides it’ll be too late to finish The Wizard of Oz if they do. His true reluctance stems from how emotional the first one made him– though you’ll pretend not to notice for his sake. 

Steve bets Penelope an extra Reeses that she’ll fall asleep by the time Dorothy meets the scarecrow. It’s unfair, really. You tell Penelope not to pinky promise it but she does. And she loses awfully, yawning within five minutes and startling herself awake within ten. You scoff when Steve starts carding through her hair– her guaranteed snooze switch. It’s evil and you tell him so. So of course, that finishes her off long before Scarecrow makes an appearance; she curls into Steve’s side and digs a heel into yours. Poor girl never stood a chance. 

“She had a lot of fun tonight,” Steve utters. It’s alarming at first, how his voice eclipses the TV like there isn’t a child snoring against his stomach. But she doesn’t stir. He knows she won’t. 

“Did you?” You ask, skating between a whisper and not. 

“Very much. You?” 

“Mhmm. Loads,” you answer without hesitation. It’s possibly the easiest question anyone’s ever asked you. “I think Penelope’s right.”

He quirks an eyebrow against the front of the couch. His cheek is sinking further into the cotton like he might fall asleep. 

“We should go trick-or-treating tomorrow too.” 

His lips wane into a soft smile. If he wasn’t so drained he might laugh too. “What should we be? Penelope has a strict no-repeat costume rule.” 

You hum, scraping your memory for the best costumes you’d seen. There were Power Rangers and Ghostbusters and several Batmen with their Catwomen. But the image of one young family sticks out the most in your mind. A young pair of parents with their son and daughter decked in moody black and white. 

“Addams family?” 

“Who’s who?” 

“She’s Wednesday. Obviously.”

Steve chuckles, accidentally too loud and Penelope twitches against his thigh. He draws her against his chest readily and strokes her spine with the back of his hand. “Obviously,” he whispers. 

“You’re Morticia and I’m Gomez, though.” 

“Oh?”

“Yeah. She’s tall and pretty. Strong jawline, kinda sassy. I think you’ll make it work.” 

You’re flirting. You know you are as soon as you say it. And you don’t mean to, it just happens; the words come intuitively as blinking. Your brain does all sorts of crazy things around Steve. 

“You think I’m pretty?” He’s smiling hard. You can’t tell if he’s serious or not. 

“Pretty sassy, yeah,” you deflect. It’s a safer truth than admitting you do think he’s pretty. 

He rolls his eyes. “My mom says Nell gets her attitude from me. Says it’s payback for how I was as a child.” 

You gawk emphatically. “Were you a bad kid Steve Harrington?”

“I wasn’t bad– just needed attention I think.” 

You hum. It’s a little surprising since you know Steve’s an only child to wealthier parents. You’d pegged him to be spoiled in both money and attention.

“Are you close with your parents?”

He shakes his head, “Not really. Talk every now and then.”

“Sorry.” 

“Don’t be. I came to terms with it a while ago. Even more after she was born.” He skims his lips against Penelope’s head. “I can’t imagine not being in her life. You know, not really knowing her? Not knowing her favorite things or when she’s hurting or what she’s up to every second of the day. I don’t think that’ll ever change.”  

“She’ll be so grateful to have that kind of relationship when she’s older.” 

“Yeah, maybe. Like way older.” His shoulders droop as he sighs, “She already thinks I’m smothering her. Wouldn’t hold my hand yesterday because she’s ‘too big’ she said.” 

“Already?” You laugh.

“I know!” He groans. “I almost cried.” 

“She loves you. Kids just show it in strange ways.” 

“Yeah… She forced me to hold a slug last week.” 

“You held it?” 

“I had to! She was so excited to give it to me.”

“Aww. You’re a good dad.” 

Steve's eyes caper down and his cheeks pinken. “I’m trying to be.” 

Apart from the movie and an occasional sleep sigh from Penelope, silence swallows the room. It’s a comfortable silence; the kind you only get around people you’ve known forever; It feels like you’ve known Steve your entire life. You have to remind yourself it’s only been a few months. Remind yourself this is the first time you’ve ever even hung out. 

You find yourself drifting to the future. A future, with Steve and Penelope. Vacations and school events and hiking trips and movie nights and so much more. It’s silly. It makes your heart want to rip itself from your chest. 

Steve clears his throat. Your fantasy is only partially dissolved. “I’m gonna take her upstairs. Put her to bed.” 

You lean forward and press into your knees, gearing to stand. “Okay. I should get going. It’s late.” 

“Stay for a minute. I’ll walk you out.”

You have no reason to decline but even if you did, you aren’t sure you would be able to. Saying no to Steve is as hard as saying no to Penelope. They have the same puppy-dog eyes– brown and soft as sun-baked clay. That must be it. 

Steve strains to stand with the added weight. He’s strong but Penelope’s four now and having growth spurts like there’s a race to be the tallest kid in school. She clings to him instinctually, slotting her face into his neck like it was sculpted specifically to be her pillow. Her gangly legs sway against his thighs as he slowly climbs the stairs and disappears onto the landing.  

You don’t notice Steve’s return. He’s much quieter than before, taking softer steps and more calculated movements. He doesn’t have the buffer of his body heat to soothe Penelope back to sleep if she wakes. The palm on your shoulder startles you. 

He whispers an apology from behind the couch, voice sweet and buttery as caramel. You let him guide you the short distance to the front door– expecting it to end there– but he presses into a pair of laced sneakers thrown beside the entry table. 

The night’s chill is jolting, even in your coat. It’s easy to forget the months are slipping into winter when Steve’s around. He radiates warmth, not just in sun-kissed skin and honeyed eyes, but in his tone and his touches and every aspect of his spirit. And it bleeds like a fire. Brushes your cheeks like flames and stirs perpetually in your belly like magma. 

He walks you the entire length of his driveway to your car. Probably would’ve opened the door for you if you didn’t beat him to it. 

“Thank you for inviting me Steve,” you say, lingering in the threshold of your open door. 

“Thank you for coming. I’m really happy you came. So is Penelope.” 

“As much as I am looking forward to The Addams Family next year, we should plan something… maybe a little sooner?” 

“Mmm. Let me check my schedule first,” he teases, rapping his fingers against the roof of your car. 

“Whatever, boss-man.”

You still don’t get in. There’s a stretch of silence, not awkward, just a placeholder for when the right words come. And they don’t. Not tonight anyway. You could hug him? Peck his cheek? Pat his back as he might yours? 

You settle for a safe and simple tight-lipped smile. He appreciates it just the same. 

“See you Friday?” He asks. 

“See you then.” 

Steve guides the door closed after you settle in. He waits until your taillights have completely fizzled out in the shadows of his street to stroll back up to his house. 

He thinks of you as he locks the front door and again as he finds your hat on the sectional and a third time as he slips under his sheets. Steve isn’t sure what to do. He feels sick. His heart is hammering and his gut twists itself in knots like it does when he’s afraid. He hasn’t quite figured out what about you is so scary but how can he possibly wait until Friday to find out? 

[alovelymoonbeam]

K but like. Why does christmas have to be such a big Thing?

[whorekneecentral]

Only The Best For You

Kimi Raikkonen x Fem!Reader

Warnings: dad's best friend!kimi, reader is 20/21 - reader is old enough to make her own decisions, your dad isn't pleased with the gift, one mention of alcohol and one mention of death, sexual tension, kinda power imbalance, kimi gives into the intrusive thoughts, nipple play, fingering for like 0.2 seconds, one use of the word 'daddy' in a sexual way, penetrative sex (p in v), gagging, finger sucking, 'whore' used in a sexual/degrading term.

Word Count: 2,400

Author's Note: for all my dad best friend freaks and the kimi whores, this one's for you <3 -- also ignore that it's gucci in the pic but it's something different in the fic loool I couldn't find a different pic I liked.

merry smutmas series

--

Kimi spends the holidays with his old friends. He doesn’t forget you; bringing you exactly what you had been wishing for and you make sure to thank him.. properly.

An old L/N family tradition.

Since you were a child, your parents and grandparents allowed you to open one gift from them on Christmas eve, letting you enjoy the magic of Christmas a few hours early.

You were grown up now, in college and your grandparents had sadly passed on but your parents kept the tradition going. You had come home for Christmas break and it was Christmas Eve. Your parents have just finished dinner and you have moved to the living room.

It was yourself, your parents and your dad's best friend, Kimi. You had known Kimi your whole life practically but he was always away racing so you never saw much of him until lately, now that he's officially retired - for good this time.

"Shall we open gifts?" Your father asks, walking into the living room. He passed a glass of what looks like whiskey to Kimi, who was next to you, before sitting beside your mother.

She looks over at her husband. "Honey, isn't she too grown for that?"

Your father rolls his eyes, shaking his head. "It's a family tradition, now hush. Go pick a present."

Your mum picks first, picking one from your father that just so happened to be the new perfume she wanted. Your father was next and he picked out one from you. It's a story book he used to read to you as a kid, you had written all of your favourite memories of the two of you inside of it. You made him cry, both you and Kimi laughing about that.

"Go ahead, sweetheart." Your father nods towards the tree, you move from the couch to the floor, kneeling in front of the tree to pick out a gift.

A gift sticks out to you; red wrapping paper with little elves of it and your name written in cursive across the front of it. You pick it up, shaking it a bit to see what was in it.

It felt hard, as if it was a box. You looked towards your parents, "is it from you guys?"

Your dad looks towards your mom; she took care of all of the holiday shopping. The woman shakes her head, "it's not from us, sweetie."

The gift on your lap when you glance over your shoulder at Kimi. He gives you a small smile, so small you almost miss it.

He nods towards the gift, waiting for you to open it. You rip the wrapping paper very carefully, revealing the red box underneath; the gold lettering was cursive - Cartier.

Your jaw was already dropping, looking back at the man. "You didn't," you say and he nods again, waiting for you to open the box to see what was inside.

"Kimi, what did you do?" Your mother asks, looking over at your father. He was never one for brands or jewellery, he didn't realize that buying something there automatically was an expensive purchase.

Lifting the cover carefully, the velvet black fabric inside the box held a white gold chain, blue sapphires set along the entire thing.

If your jaw wasn't already on the floor, it would be now. "Kimi!" You turned to face the man, setting the box on the couch carefully. "You did not!"

"I did," he nods. He's always been a man of very few words; more of an action rather than words type of guy.

"What is it?" Your father asks and you hand the red box over to him for him to see.

He shows your mother as he holds the box, he doesn't realize that he's holding a little over €40,000 in his hands at the moment. "Oh Kimi, it's beautiful." Your mother gushes, handing it back over to you.

You were still on the floor, admiring the necklace in the box. "Well, turn around." Kimi says and you do, sitting just between his legs.

He reaches over to take the box from you and carefully takes the chain out of its box before you lift your hair. Kimi leans forwards and you can feel his fingers brush against your skin and his breath on your shoulders when he loops it around your neck and hooks the clasp.

"It looks gorgeous on you, darling." Your mom says, smiling at you.

Your phone's in one hand and your other hand gently touches the chain, straightening it as you admired how it looked on you. "Kimi, this is too much. It's so expensive." You whisper to him and he shrugs.

"How expensive are we talking?" Your father finally speaks, looking over at his friend.

Kimi answers nonchalantly; "Like.. €40,000."

Your father instantly sits up, his jaw hanging open. "What?! Kimi, are you out of your mind?"

"Please," he looks over at his friend in disapproval. His hand rests on your shoulder, his thumb passing over your soft skin. "She's a good girl, she deserves it."

You can't help but shift a bit when he calls you a good girl, the words hitting you right where you shouldn't. It was wrong, he was your father's friend and you were.. well, you were attracted to him. You couldn't deny it; Kimi was an attractive man and despite his lack of words, he was very charming.

"Y/n, say thank you. You can't not say it when he's spent so much." Your father tells you, and you turn around to face Kimi.

"Thank you, Kimi," you smiled at him, sitting on your knees when you reached up to give the man a hug. His arms wrapped around you, his warm hand pressed to your back. "You're welcome, angel."

Another nickname that hits you in all the wrong places.

--

As the night goes on, your parents head up for bed as do you. Kimi was the last one to bed from your understanding and as the house grew quiet, you tossed and turned, unable to sleep.

You find yourself sat on your bed, pjs on - a tank top and a pair of shorts with a €40,000 chain around your neck.

It was nearing 3am, the witching hours as your mum says. You find yourself getting up and heading downstairs. The initial thought was to go to the kitchen and get a glass of water but you got side tracked when you see a light coming from Kimi's room.

You knock, peeking around the space left between the door frame and the actual door. "Come in," he waves to you and you step in, shutting the doors behind you. The TV was on, a rerun of some show you couldn't quite place was on.

"What are you doing up?" He asks, glancing at his phone to check the time. "Do you know how late it is?"

"I couldn't sleep," you tell him, looking over at the TV. "Can I join you?"

He shrugs, nodding towards the empty space next to him. You quietly make your way over, sitting next to him on the bed. Kimi don't miss the way your shorts hike up when you crawl over to the empty spot; it's so wrong for him to be looking at you like that but can you blame the man? You were gorgeous and you were in his bed after all.

The two of you sit quietly, watching as the show rolls on into another episode. You unconsciously play with the chain, shifting it back and forth slowly.

Kimi looks over at you, smiling to himself; you were the picture of beauty.

"You're staring," you mumble, glancing at him. He smiles, like actually smiles. "You're beautiful."

Your cheeks are red, you hope that the light coming from the tv isn't bright enough for him to realize that just yet.

"It looks good on you," he says, "like it was made for you."

"Blue has always been my favourite colour." You smiled, glancing down at the chain. "Did you pick it yourself?"

He nods, "I saw it and thought of you, I figured you'd like it."

"I do, very much." You look over at him, Kimi smiles at you and your hand shifts from your thigh to his, rubbing along it softly. Kimi's brows furrow ever so slightly. He doesn't say anything, hoping that you'd stop if he ignores it.

You were persistent.

Your hand travels higher, about to rub over the ever so evident bulge in his shorts but Kimi catches your hand, holding your wrist. "We can't, y/n."

"Why not?"

"It's wrong," he whispers, glancing at the door - you weren't sure if he wanted you to leave or if he was catching to see if it was locked. You wiggle your hand from his grasp, Kimi lets out a small breath of relief; see, the man was stupid enough to think you were stopping.

You didn't stop. Instead, you got on his lap, straddling him with your hands on his shoulders. Kimi's hand rests on your lower back as he looks at you.

"Let me thank you properly," you whisper, lips ghosting over his.

Kimi reaches up, his lips pressed to yours but he's yet to kiss you. "You don't have too."

"I want to.. I want you," you mumbled, finally kissing the man. Your hand cupping his jaw, Kimi's hand slips under the tank top you had on and slides up your back to undo your bra but finds you don't have one on.

Kimi pushes the straps of your tank top down off your shoulders. You sat comfortably on his lap, letting him have his way with you and the man wanted one thing. He leans forward, arms wrapped around you as his lips wrap around your nipple.

“Kimi, fuck- please.” You mumble, your hand tangled in his blonde hair, tugging on it. As such as you loved the attention, you needed him.

He glances up at you, watching as your eyes fluttered shut. He groans when you pull on his hair a little harder but what's a little pain when he's making you feel good?

It was heavy, heated.

His hands on your body, pulling you over and onto him. You were perched on his lap, Kimi's hands on your ass when he kissed you again.

Not a word is spoken between the two of you and what little clothes you had on was gathered in a pile on the floor when he rolls you two over. You were flat on your back with Kimi settled between your legs.

“Please,” your hand rested on his jaw, “daddy, please.”

The pet name makes his cock twitch; it's sinful, so sinful in so many ways but he couldn't care less. You drove him mad.

His hand slips between the two of you, his fingers rubbing slow circles on your clit. Your hips lift, wanting more from him.

Kimi’s hand wandered a little lower, a finger pushed in slowly. He can feel how wet you are, wrapped around his finger and he smiles.

He moves his finger slowly, curling it. He takes pleasure in watching you, seeing how your face twists and how your body reacts to his touch.

"Please," you whimpered, "don't make me wait."

Kimi can't bring himself to say no to you.

He sits, pushing his shorts down and you get the hint, getting on top of him. Your hands grip on his shoulders, balancing yourself. Your knees on either side of his lap, Kimi's hand reaches under you to help you, the tip of his cock brushing against your clit, making your hip shift forward a bit. His free hand on your hip as you sink down onto him, his name tumbling from your lips.

You take a moment to get used to the feeling, your eyes fluttering shut as he rubs along your lower back, leaning into you to kiss down your neck.

You rock your hips forward and Kimi's head drops back, his eyes now closed. “Fuck, you’re perfect.” His hand pats your hip, “made just for me.” He tells you, your lips now on his neck - a trail of marks and sloppy kisses being left along his neck.

He pulls one of your legs up forward, pulling you down further. “Fuck,” you breathe, his thrusts faster and harder. How you wished you could scream his name right now. Kimi's hand drops between the two of you, rubbing your clit.

Your head falls back, manicured nails digging into his pale skin when he hits the spot he was looking for. He watches as you bounce on his lap, the sapphires around your neck bouncing in rhythm with you. His fingers that were previous on your clit now shoved into your mouth to muffle the sounds tumbling from your lips.

Your brows furrowed, an excited look on your face despite it all. You can feel his cock twitch in you, his lips next to your ear when he leans in.

"You've got to be quiet, angel. Wouldn't want them to catch you being a whore for me, hm?

You mumble something along an okay, your hips bucking, telling him you want more. Your tongue laps around his fingers, Kimi watches as you suck on them. There's a wicked smile on his face, his hips lifting to meet you halfway.

He lets you take over, setting the pace and using him for your own pleasure. Kimi leans forward as his lips wrap around your nipple. His tongue lapped over your nipple, biting on it softy; just enough to get you to arch your back, pushing into him.

“Come on darling,” he mumbles against your skin, now kissing up to your collarbone. Kimi's hand behind your neck to pull you down for a kiss. “Want you to cum for me.”

His arms wrap around you when you drop against him, your face buried against his shoulder, biting down to muffle the sounds. “Good girl,” he hums, rubbing your back.

Your heart beats out of your chest as you catch your breath. Kimi smiles, kissing along your shoulder. "Feel good?" He asks and you mumble something, your head resting on his shoulder.

"I take it I should spoil you more often, hm?" He chuckles, making you smile when you sit up. Kimi straightens your necklace, kissing your chin.

You shake your head and smile. "Don't have to spoil me for me to do that."

Kimi smiles at you, giving you a kiss. "Merry Christmas, y/n."

"Merry Christmas, Kimi."

--

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[onlyjaeyun]

𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 – 𝟑𝟖

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

⤥ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

⤥ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬!𝐀𝐔

⤥ 𝐰𝐜: 𝟕𝐤

⤥ 𝐜𝐰: 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐞𝐬, 𝐝𝐲𝐬𝐟𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬, 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐥, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐛𝐯𝐬𝐞, 𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐱 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Up until you were four years old, christmas used to be your favorite holiday. You still remember your late mother’s tradition of hanging stockings with your names right next to the tree she had spent hours decorating and each year you’d watch your father get more and more excited about coming home to his girls to finally spend some time with the ones he loved the most.

In the year your mother had passed away, your father hadn’t even bothered to set up a tree, decorate the house or even buy you a little something. To your luck, your maternal aunt had made it her mission to carry on her sister’s tradition, so that was how you had found yourself at a dinner table with your dearest people, eating and laughing, forgetting about the pain in your chest for just a little while.

In the following years, your stepmother had never tried to recreate any of your old traditions and after a while you had stopped asking for it. By the time you had reached your pre-teen years, you were the older sister and maternal figure to two little boys, trying your best to give them memorable christmas memories and even going as far as saving up every cent you had received to buy them presents. You still remember the way Riki’s little face had lit up the second you had handed him that tiny little box with an action figure he had been asking for for months at that time.

As you two had grown older, your friend circle expanding and the concept of a found family becoming more and more right, you had started your annual friendsmas dinners, a tradition Jaeyun introduced you to all the way back in middle school and ever since that, every one of you had always made sure to find at least one day during the holiday season, which was exclusively reserved for your real family.

Maybe the comfort of your favorite people sitting at the dinner table, laughing and enjoying each other’s presence and knowing they’re the ones you feel the safest with is what makes it so much easier to spend so much time in such close proximity to the young man who’s been involuntarily spending a lot of time in your thoughts.

You hate Park Sunghoon. You hate him for looking as good as he does, for his soothing voice, his pretty smile and his dry humor. You hate how much you have to hold yourself back from laughing along to his silly little jokes and puns, and you can’t stand how badly you want to be even closer to him.

When he arrived with the beverages and a shit ton of snacks a few hours earlier, you physically couldn’t keep your eyes off of him. The dress shirt he’s wearing hugging his muscular torso in just the right places and his sweet scent – a combin of his aftershave and cologne – driving you into absolute insanity and if it wasn’t for the other boys being extra attentive, you would have pulled him into your room just to get another taste of him.

Yet every single time you catch yourself staring at him, your chest tightens and your little self is yelling and screaming at you for betraying her like that.

Because, no matter how much you deny it, you don’t actually hate Sunghoon as much as you want to. There’s no way you could ever feel as comfortable and at ease around someone you hate.

You two had managed to get along with each other for your friends’ sake, especially your younger brother’s, so why have things suddenly taken such a big turn? Was it the sex? Was it the kisses you’ve been daydreaming about? Was it the feeling of the way he’s shown you a side of yourself you’ve always been too afraid to look into? Or was it the way your tummy did this very special kind of flip whenever he buried his face in your neck, telling you how good you make him feel and how he’s gonna make sure to ruin you for every other man on this planet?

After all these years filled with hatred and wrath, anger and disappointment, the deep feeling of betrayal and not knowing why he never talked to you again after you had spent so much time and tears trying to understand where you had gone wrong, you just don’t know what to do with yourself.

Your younger self is losing her mind over your current thoughts about your biggest enemy but you…don’t actually mind them. There’s a weird sense of peace and comfort which comes with the thought of allowing yourself to feel something else beside the darkness of hate and wrath, something you’ve never actually felt with anyone before.

And as those thoughts fill your head, you can’t help but feel your chest tightening at the fact that there’s never been anyone like Park Sunghoon to you. You still remember the times you’d come running to his door, tears streaming down your chubby cheeks as you tried to understand why your father had suddenly started to hate you, only for Sunghoon to be the one to comfort you and make sure you know your worth regardless of others perception of you.

Riki and Tsuki as well as all the other boys have always been there for you, yet during those times where you didn’t have anyone, it was Park Sunghoon who held you in his arms.

All these years you had tried your best to push aside all those memories of all the times he had brought a smile onto your lips right before wiping your tears away and distracting you; the fact he didn’t know any better because of just how young you two were breaking your heart into millions of pieces.

You still remember the day you had decided to do what you thought was best and quit the one thing that had never failed to comfort your young soul during the darkest times, the fear of losing your best friend consuming your brain in ways you have yet to process and thinking about it now, almost a decade later, you still can’t help but feel tears welling up in your eyes as pain and sadness fill your chest.

In no universe could anything have prepared you for the actual outcome of a decision you had made for nobody but the person you loved the most, the sacrifice bigger than your young mind could have comprehended and the more you think about it, the angrier you get.

Of course Sunghoon had the right to be angry at you, but even now you can’t understand why he just never talked to you again. You had already accepted the possibility of losing him over your big decision, this wasn’t about you only, yet no matter how much time passes, you just can’t get yourself to forgive him for putting you through the heartbreak of abandoning you when you had needed him the most.

“It’s time for secret santa, bitches!”

The loud yelling of your best friend right beside your ear brutally pulls you out of your sad ride down memory lane and with your brows furrowed in confusion you stare at Jaeyun, leaving him just as perplexed.

“It’s time for secret santa…ladies?”

As those words leave his lips, you physically can’t stop the hideous chuckle from bubbling up your throat, throwing your head back and punching your best friend's arm with your fist.

It’s in moments like this where you realize just how much you appreciate the people you’ve been calling your family for longer than you can remember, knowing they’d never fail to pull you back to reality without even trying.

It doesn’t take much for everyone to get even louder as a discussion about the present order stirs up and before anyone can get a little too worked up about it, you decide to opt for your usual routine.

“I fucking hate being the oldest”, Heeseung pouts and doens the rest of his wine in one sip, his eyes rolling back as he lifts his middle finger up in the direction of your three youngest who have never let the opportunity pass to tease him for his age.

As the presents are being opened one by one, you attentively look at the little box in your hand, the name tag printed out to avoid anyone giving away their identity through their handwriting, a rule Jongseong had come up years ago and the longer you eye your neatly wrapped present, the more you wonder what it could be.

The fact you have absolutely no idea who your secret santa is, something you’ve always been bad at when it came to this part of your friend group’s tradition, Park Sunghoon can’t help but feel his heart thrumming in his throat at the thought of your reaction.

In all those years, you two had actually managed to never pick each other – until this year. Sunghoon still remembers the way his heart had dropped when he had read your name on the little note, a ton of ideas instantly popping up in his head only for his younger self to take them all and stomp them to the ground.

However, after a whole decade of letting his angry pre-teen self win those fights, Sunghoon has decided to finally put an end to the feud between the two of you and for once in his life the stars were on his side.

It took him exactly a month to come up with the perfect secret santa present for you, one that’d not only show you how over the ongoing war between you two he is, but also one he could use as a way to maybe win you over again.

If someone had told him about the thoughts he’d have about you only four months prior to this friendsmas dinner, Sunghoon would have told them to stop wasting his time because in no way could he have imagined things to turn out like this. But now? Now he’s genuinely excited and actually nervous about your reaction to the present he had gotten you and the most important part about it all is the fact he’s not even mad about feeling the way he does.

He still hates you.

But after all these years, he’s grown tired, mentally and physically exhausted of denying how much he actually wants you and how he’s always longed for your actual presence in his life.

It took quite a few conversations with Jaeyun to finally admit this to himself but at the end of the day Sunghoon knew there wasn’t a point in his denial so he’s just decided to accept things.

At the end of the day the day will come where he has to let you go completely and after years and years of emotional distance, Sunghoon has now come to the point where it just doesn’t make sense anymore.

He still hates you, with the entirety of his cold heart and yet he’s never, ever craved anybody’s touch and presence as much as yours. To admit to himself that all of this wasn’t just about the way you’ve mad ehim feel in a sexual manner was definitely one of the hardest pills he’s ever had to swallow but now that it’s gone and done, Hoon actually feels relieved.

Maybe that’s why he decided to opt for a present which carries a lot more sentimental value than any other gift he’s ever given but if life is on his side just this once, you probably won’t ever know who your secret santa is.

With his heart brutally hammering against his rib cage, Sunghoon carefully watches the way you clap your hands in excitement when your turn finally arrives.

For some reason, unusual silence fills your comforting living room as you gently rip apart the perfectly themed gift wrapper and reveal a tiny little jewelry box to everyone’s curious eyes.

“Oh?” You can’t help but mumble, a weird yet comfortable feeling settling into your muscles when you pull out the little car underneath the box, the boys quickly urging you to read it out loud, to your surprise however, it’s written in your mother tongue.

As it takes you a good second to translate the words on the little note, you gasp for air once your brain finally realizes what you’ve just read.

“Oh, come on! Don’t fuck with us!” Jungwon pouts and reaches for the card, only for his brows to furrow once he notices the foreign language.

“What? What is it?” This time it’s your brother’s voice and it’s then that you quickly get up and reach for the little card, the message too deep, too close to your heart to blurt out, even into your closest circle of friends.

“Open the box then!” Sunoo reminds you and it’s then that you find yourself holding onto your present like your life depends on it as your chest continues to tighten.

Just as the note had stated, you’re met with the sight of a beautiful ring, with your mother’s birthstone as the center of attention.

“Can I read it out loud?” Riki asks calmly, his voice slightly hoarse and strained, letting you and everyone else know just how emotional it’s gotten him as well. Unable to form another word, you nod.

“Dear Y/N”, your brother begins as the room falls silent once again, “if there’s one thing in this world that I’m actually sure about, it’s about how proud your late mother is of you and the woman you’re growing into every single day. Take this as a way to carry her by your side, as her birthstone reminds you of the great impact she’s had on your life and the ones of the people she was surrounded by. Sincerely, your secret santa.”

As you listen to the translation of the sweetest letter you’ve ever received you can’t help but actually let out a soft sob, the holidays being some of toughest times in your life since the passing of your mother and the fact you have people as caring and attentive as this in your life will probably remain one of the few things to break down those walls you had worked so hard to built.

“Oh wow”, Jongseong suddenly whispers and breaks the silence, his reaction finally making you look up from the ring just to be met with a bunch of teary eyes as they all take in a moment filled with such love and happiness.

“This is the sweetest and most thoughtful gift we’ve ever had in our secret santa round”, Wonie chuckles and quickly wipes away his tears, his usually so excited eyes filled with a pain that’s dedicated to you and the deep wound in your chest, this kind of compassion something you’ve only ever received from your closest friends.

“Thank you so much”, you whisper into the round and take the ring out of the box to gently put it onto your ring finger, the fit almost too perfect and with curious eyes you try your best to study the reactions of your friends to see if you can actually read their facial expressions for once during this part of your traditional dinner.

And just when you’re about to get confused because of the genuine surprise in everyone’s face, your gaze finally shifts to the one guy you’ve tried so hard not to fall for in these past few weeks, maybe even years but that’s something for another time.

Sunghoon almost looks like he’s been caught once your eyes meet and it’s that exact moment where you realise the identity of your secret santa.

However, the sudden and very urgent ringing of your doorbell comes to save the both of you from a confrontation neither is quite ready for just yet.

You might be naive or too deep in your denial, but for now you’re going to allow yourself to enjoy this present and the sentiment it comes with, rather than worry about whatever this heavy tension between you and your archenemy has suddenly turned to.

“I’ll go get it”, you quickly say and avert your gaze from Sunghoon’s dark eyes, too emotionally vulnerable to give yourself another minute of staring at him with everyone around, “Seungie open your present, I’ll be right back. It's probably just a neighbor!”

You basically jump out of your seat in hopes of escaping the thick tension between you and the only man you’ve ever been openly vulnerable with, something you just can’t seem to forget and as your shaky legs carry you to your front door, you wonder which one of your sweet neighbors is in such a rush to the point where breaking your doorbell was deemed necessary.

Now, there are quite a few faces and voices you expected, but definitely not the ones belonging to none other than your biggest walking nightmare.

With wide eyes and your heart instantly dropping into your stomach, you feel a wave of fear and anxiety overwhelm your senses as you stare right into the hateful, angry eyes of your stepmother.

“What the–”, “You ungrateful, spoiled, selfish whore of a girl”, she screams, intentionally raising the volume of her voice as her hurtful words start echoing in the hallway of your apartment building.

The sudden urge to just slam the door shut again to keep yourself safe and protected from the pain and heartbreak you know she’s gonna put yoj through becomes overwhelming but before your body can even react to the sheer amount of stress and anxiety rushing through your veins, she’s already pushed you to the side, letting herself inside of your home the same way she did almost two decades ago.

“What are you doing here?” Your voice is quiet, much calmer than hers and to your surprise you don’t seem to let her and her words get to you the way you normally would. It’s rather confusion you’re dealing with, since nothing or nobody could have prepared you for her presence. You haven’t seen her in almost five years after all, not after she had convinced your own, biological father to finally disown you after years and years of neglect and torture.

“I’m here to get what rightfully belongs to me and my daughter, the sister you abandoned!”

Her voice, its volume and her precise choice of words have always been something that never failed to trigger the weirdest reactions deep inside of your chest and before you can even think about anything else, you furrow your brows and finally get yourself to look into her eyes.

“Watch the way you talk to me in my own fucking home, you witch”, you spit right back at her, anger, wrath and frustration mixing in your veins the longer you look into her dark eyes, the resemblance to your brother’s so inhense, you can’t help but hate life for making him her carbon copy.

Riki has never looked at you with anything but love, compassion, empathy and kindness. His eyes have never failed to make you feel at ease and not once were they filled with disappointment and hatred, building the absolute contrast to the ones you’re currently staring into.

Just as expected, it doesn’t take much time for your friends to be alarmed by the sound of the rather unfamiliar voice.

“What’s going on? Mom, why the fuck are you here?”

Your stepmother seems appalled, shocked and utterly shocked at her son’s choice of words and as you watch the way her face drop only for her eyes to darken even further, you find yourself taking a step back to somehow protect yourself, only for a familiar scent to fill your nose.

However, in that moment you can’t get yourself to worry about how your lack of reaction to Sunghoon’s presence in your back might come across to the others in the room.

“You’re both a disgrace to our family name and I’m ashamed you’re both somehow related to me”, she snaps and quickly averts her gaze to fall on you again, her eyes filled with an even deeper hatred than before.

“Mom, what the fuck do you want from us? Weren’t we clear enough about our decisions? You can’t fucking force us to give you money we don’t even have!”

It’s in moments like these where you watch your younger brother turn back into the tiny little kid you had raised, the one who always tried to have your back and never let anyone hurt you even more. He seems so lost, so confused and overwhelmed and every time you’re met with the sight of his usually so kind eyes filled with nothing but pain and agony, you remember all the times he had cried in your arms asking why your parents never loved the two of you the way parents are supposed to.

“Money you don’t have?”, the sudden switch in language feels overwhelming, yet your brain quickly adapts to the change and for a moment you’re actually grateful, “why do you two live in an apartment like this then? You have a fucking internship and I know this loser has more than enough saved on the side.”

“We’re not gonna finance another one of your spoiled kids just because she thinks she’s entitled to go to a fucking boarding school”, Riki is quick to reply and internally you thank him for his speed, knowing she would have chewed you out by now if it wasn’t for him.

You can feel everyone’s eyes in your back, a wave of shame and guilt, anger and embarrassment spreading in your chest as you find yourself in another screaming match right in front of all of your friends just the way you used to back then.

Because, no matter what, your father and his wife had always made sure to humiliate and embarrass you in front of the only people you care about.

For a moment, your mind goes blank.

It feels like you’re ten years old all over again and your brain simply doesn’t know how to handle all the emotions washing over you. The urge to run away and hide in the darkest corner of your room the way you used to do it back when you were a little girl suddenly becomes overwhelming and yet, the strong presence in your back calms you down in a way you’ve never experienced it before. There’s just something so familiar and comforting about the knowledge that of all people, it’s Sunghoon who’s ready to step in if he needs to.

With your heart hammering against your rib cage you notice that a thin veil of tears has blurred your vision and as soon as your eyes meet your stepmother’s, you feel yourself snap back into reality.

She can’t hurt you anymore.

Your father isn’t there to defend and support her, nor are you alone with her.

It’s you and the only people who have ever cared about your wellbeing against her and you’d be damned if you didn’t use this to your advantage.

“She’s turned you into an even bigger hypocrite than herself!”

Those words, however, leave you speechless once again.

Agonizing silence erupts in the tiny space of your hallway and with big eyes you try your best to stay composed.

If there’s one thing you’ve always tend to forget about your stepmother is just how unhinged and reckless she can be. Everything she says and throws into your face is a weapon, something to hurt and break your soul with.

“What the fuck does that even mean? If there are any hypocrites in this fucked up family it’s you and your lousy excuse of a husband!”, Riki screams back at her, the volume of his voice so loud and unfamiliar, you can’t remember the last time you’ve heard him like this.

“Oh, really? So, she still hasn’t told you about it, hm?”

There’s only everbeen two times in your life where your elt your heart drop as hard and painful as right now and the longer you stare at the oman who was supposed to be your maternal figure, only to fail miserably, the tighter your chest becomes.

She hates you; there’s probably not an ounce of empathy or love for you in her cold heart, but she wouldn’t actually do this, not when it was the last thing you had begged her and your father for before you left your childhood home five years ago.

“Hasn’t told me what? What are you talking about? Stop fucking with me, Mom”, your brother presses through gritted teeth, his hands balled into tight fists, so tight his knuckles have turned white already and if it wasn’t for his two best friends holding his arms, you’re pretty sure he would have lost his composure already.

“Don’t”, you whisper and subconsciously reach for her, only for Sunghoon to quickly pull your arm back because he knows you’d never forgive yourself if you actually gave in to her manipulative tactics, “please, don’t. Not here. Not now.”

“Oh, now you know how to be polite? Fuck you”, your stepmother scoffs and rolls her eyes at you, stomping every tiny bit of hope you’ve had left into the ground just like that and as your brother’s head turns to look into your face, you realize there’s no way out but to accept your fate.

“She’s the biggest fucking hypocrite because every time you both accused us of favoritism, she turned around and did the same with you and her other siblings”, she suddenly begins and with your head hanging low, you know she’s going to expose you to the only people who have ever deemed you worthy of their love and trust, especially your brother.

“What?” Riki mumbles confused, his eyes nervously roaming your face as he looks for answers in your body language only to notice how defeated and exhausted you seem.

“If your father and I favored your to siblings over you two, then she made sure to do the same with you, too”, your stepmother repeated herself, her voice filled burning in your eardrum like venom, “because she went and gave up on her so called ‘biggest dream’ for you, yet can’t even get herself to contribute a single cent to her other siblings’ education.”

Silence.

Heartbreaking, soul shattering silence is the only thing to follow the hateful words of your brother’s mother.

For a moment, you’re pretty sure nobody in the room dares to take a single breather as they all take in Riki’s reaction to the one secret you’ve been keeping to yourself for so long, knowing he would have never forgiven himself if you had told him all those years ago.

“What?”

Sunghoon’s voice is the one to rip your heart into shreds and yet a huge wave of confusion hits you right afterwards, not quite understanding how in the world he could have understood when your stepmother had been talking in her mother tongue the whole time.

“Is that true?” This time your brother manages to form a coherent sentence, his voice so mall you’re afraid he’ll break if he spoke too loudly and for some reason, the only thing you can manage to respond with is a nod. Too ashamed of your secret, too afraid of his reaction.

Who could have blamed you for keeping this to yourself when Riki has been he first in your life to support you regardless of other people’s perception of you. No matter what, where or who it was about, your little brother has always been the one to have your back, so abandoning your dream in order to give him the opportunities you’ve never had seemed the only choice to make.

“What…the fuck?”, Riki breathes and stares at you through a thick veil of tears, his heart breaking into thousands of pieces as he realizes that he’s the reason behind the biggest sacrifice you’ve ever made in your life.

All this time he’d wonder why you had decided to abandon your dream to the point where even the sight of an ice rink broke your heart, only for his existence to be the answer.

“Say something”, your brother begs, his voice a mere whisper, “please, Y/N. Please, tell me you didn’t choose my future over your biggest passion.”

You can’t even get yourself to lift your head, the thought of looking into your brother’s eyes pushing you deeper into the darkness of your pain, only for Sunghoon to forcefully pull you out of it.

“That’s why you stopped skating?”

The question seems so random and out of place, not something you should be talking about in that moment and yet nothing has made more sense to him as this.

After almost a decade of wondering why you had decided to abandon not only your passion but him, your partner of four years, all your hard work and effort, Sunghoon has finally gotten his response, only for his heart to break all over again.

All of a sudden, he’s back at the ice rink, impatiently waiting for you to show up next to him as the host of the national competition announces your name for the third time. All of a sudden the same anger, disappointment and confusion fills his chest all over again and before he can even realize, he’s gasping for air.

“Hold the fuck up”, Riki suddenly intervenes, “why the fuck are you so fluent in Japanese?”

“You – understood what she said?”, is the only question you manage to form as you slowly turn around to face him, yet not bothering to step away from him because no matter what, if there’s one person whose anger has never, ever scared you, it’s Park Sunghoon’s.

In the deepest bits of your coldened heart, you always knew he’d keep you safe and sound, regardless of the hatred you two had built up for each other over the years.

He’s always been your safe place and as you look up to meet his gaze, you’re met with a look filled with nothing but genuine confusion and pain.

A pain so deep, so intense, you chest tightens with each breath you manage to take.

“Why – Why didn’t you just…tell me?” Sunghoon is now the one to whisper, his thick brows furrowed and when your brain finally processes his words, you can’t help but let the rage take over your pain for a minute.

“I fucking did”, you suddenly hiss and stare at him with tears streaming down your cheeks, the situation turning you both into your younger selves as you finally allied yourself to feel the anger and disappoint of being abandoned by one o the two people who your life had revolved around for so long.

“You were the only person I ever told about this in my letter”, the words leave your mouth before your brain can even overthink them, too much pent up frustration filling your veins for your body to handle, “and yet you chose to abandon and ignore me. You left me when I needed you the most, Park Sunghoon. You were the only hope I had left and what the fuck did you do instead? You left and never looked back, not once.”

For the first time in his life, Sunghoon feels absolutely speechless.

Your words, the anger and pain in your voice, your tears and little sobs make their way through his skull and yet, the entirety of his vocabulary seems to have vanished. Maybe it’s the sudden switch into his mother tongue or maybe, just maybe it’s the fact he has absolutely no idea what letter you’re actually referring to.

Tsuki is quick to be by your side, your brother still too overwhelmed by his mother’s words and her being the only one besides him and apparently your biggest enemy to understand the entire situation, you can’t help but bury your face in her shoulder and sob uncontrollably.

You’ve never said these words out loud. Years and years of built up pain you’ve had to lock away because the one person responsible for it had made it his life mission to let you know just how bad of a person you are to him.

All this time you tried to understand why Sunghoon had turned his back on you during the most difficult time in your life, when the only reason you had accepted your parents’ ultimatum was because you were so, so sure your best friend would find a solution.

But at the end of the day you were left with no dream and no best friend to rely on.

“What letter?”

For a moment, you’re more than just sure your brain has finally reached the state where you’re making up voices and words, only for Sunghoon to repeat his question, this time a lot firmer and even more confused than the first time.

“What the fuck do you mean? The letter I wrote for you the week before the competition”, you reply and look at him with furrowed brows and a heavy chest.

“Y/N”, Hoon whispers and for the first time in your life, you watch your former ice skating partner tear up, the sight of his pain filled eyes and the fact he had actually called you by your name to your face ripping you heart to shreds, yet not being enough to prepare you for the pain his following words would push you into.

“I never received a letter”, he whispers and looks at you, and only you.

“Wh-What? No, that’s not possible”, you stammer and try to make sense of what he had just told you, the aching of your heart spreading into your whole body to the point where every breath you inhale pushes you deeper into the comfort of your suffering.

“I have no idea what letter you’re talking about”, Sunghoon repeats himself and gulps harshly, swallowing his tears as his expression hardens, yet the agony remains lingering underneath the surface, “all I got was embarrassment and betrayal when I got to the ice rink and realized you weren’t show up. No explanation, no fucking excuse. Not a single fucking answer as to why my best friend, the person I’ve poured my heart to for years would leave me hanging in front of hundreds of people.”

Sunghoon has never been a talkative person, not with too many people around, but he’s always known his way around words, something you found yourself admiring and actually falling for in the past.

But in this very moment, every single word falling past his lips turns into another knife slashing its way into the bleeding muscle in your chest, leaving you confused and overwhelmed.

“I didn’t – No – My letter – I would never do that to you”, you stumble over your words like a toddler, unable to find the right ones to explain your innocence.

“Where is that fucking letter then, Y/N? What the fuck is going on?”

Maybe it’s the fact that Sunghoon has never been as emotionally overwhelmed as this before or maybe it's because the sight of your tear stained cheeks and confused eyes as you shake your head and deny his accusations but the longer he looks at you, the worse his soul bleeds.

After so many years of verbal and emotional abuse from his parents, you were the very first person in his life who had shown that there was more to life than just the validation of people who never wanted him. Of all people in this world, it was your hands he had put his tiny heart into because he knew you’d always keep it safe and protected, only for your absence to scar him forever.

For a single second, Sunghoon’s brain is filled with flashbacks about one of the most humiliating days in his life and as he shakes his head to get rid of all the bad memories, his gaze meets your stepmother’s, bringing back a conversation he had tried so hard to suppress as the mee thought of it was enough to deepen his young torture.

“You”, he suddenly spits, his blood boiling in his veins as he remembers exactly how your stepmother had validated all of his thoughts and concerns.

“Oh, come on”, she scoffs and shrugs her shoulders, not an ounce of guilt or shame found anywhere, leaving the both of you completely shocked, “I just wanted to make sure he doesn’t try to convince you to keep going. We knew you wouldn’t back off so this was for the best. Riki’s potential was too much to be wasted and we couldn’t risk it for that little hobby of yours.”

You desperately try to process the things your stepmother is saying, yet you’ve never struggled to understand your mother tongue as much as in this particular moment.

Yes, she hates you, always has and forever will, but…was she really capable of something so cruel?

“You never…gave him the letter?”

“She didn’t”, Sunghoon presses through gritted teeth, his ears covered in the deepest shade of red as anger and weather come together in his blood, “all she did was tell me that you had decided to quit skating. After watching me get humiliated in front of all those people. For fuck’s sake, she told me you never actually wanted to be my skating partner and did it out of pity before he convinced my father to make me go solo and show you what you’re missing out on.”

“What…the actual fuck”, after what feels like an eternity, your brother’s voice makes its way through the mess in your brain and before you can actually register all the emotions in his tired eyes, you watch Riki, one of the calmest and most understanding people you’ve ever met, lose every bit of composure he had left.

“Riki–”, “Don’t”, he’s quick to cut off his mother, Jungwon and Sunoo having to physically hold him back as the tears start streaming down his cheeks and despite everything you had just found out, it’s the sight of your brother’s pain which breaks you.

“Don’t ever say my name again. Don’t call me or my sister ever again. You’re the most disgusting and vile human being I’ve ever met. She was twelve!”, he screams and rips his arms out of his best friends’ grips, approaching his mother with soft sobs escaping his throat.

“How can someone – a mother do this to a little girl? You took her dream away from her, for what? To send me to a fucking boarding school I never even wanted to attend? And after all of the mental, emotional and verbal abuse you and your fucking loser of a husband have put us through, you still have the fucking audacity to show up at our door and demand money for children who don’t give a flying fuck about us.”

Riki’s words are harsh, his voice is loud and there’s nothing positive about any of the things he says; everything he’s ever wanted to say is finally being heard and all you can do is watch and listen.

Just like his miserable excuse of a mother.

“Riki, I–”, “Shut the fuck up. I don’t care anymore. Fuck you, fuck that husband you’re so proud of and fuck those stupid brats. You all deserve to rot in hell for the things you’ve put us through”, your brother’s chest is rising and falling at such speed, you’re genuinely worried for his physical health and even if it takes you a minute, you’re rather quick to notice the signs of an oncoming panic attack. Just like Sunghoon.

Before you can even think about intervening, you watch your former best friend make his way to your brother with just a few large steps, grabbing the younger one’s biceps and almost forcefully pulling him down to his room.

“Fuck off and don’t ever come back”, Riki suddenly yells as he watches his mother take a few steps back with genuine fear grazing her rather unattractive features, “you’re dead to us. Every single one of you is.”

“This is not done here”, your stepmother’s words of protest definitely surprise you and as your eyes roam her face, you feel your brain shutting down, finally losing yourself in the sweet relief of disassociation the second your body can’t handle any of it anymore.

“It is”, this time it’s Tsuki, her voice so strict and cold, you actually aren’t sure if it’s her, “get the fuck out of here before we call the police.”

You don’t actually hear the rest of the argument between your best friend and stepmother, too exhausted and tired, drained and worn out to think another thought, something your best friends are quick to notice and before you can even understand what’s happening, you find yourself in the comfort of your bedroom.

“Come on, Y/N”, Jungwon whispers, his pretty eyes filled with deep concern and pain as he pulls the blanket over your slightly shaking body, “we’re here. You’re safe.”

Those are the last words to make it through the fog in your head as you finally let go of every single thought and slowly drift into a deep, dreamless sleep.

And maybe it’s the pain of knowing he won’t ever get the past decade with you back or maybe it’s the fact someone else had decided to not only take away the biggest joy in his life but also the first and only person he’s ever felt safe with, but as Sunghoon gently caresses your hair, silently watching your expressions soften the deeper your sleep becomes, he simply can’t stop the tears from streaming down his cheeks. his soft sobs and cries the only thing to fill the space of your bedroom.

← 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 — 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 →

(A/N: i don't even know what to say except thank you guys so, so much. i really hope the waiting was worth it and that i could meet yours and my own expectations. ot's definitely not the end but i can't believe we've actually made it to this point. i love and appreciate you all so, so much. 🩷☀️🌷💐)

TAGLIST: @soonigiri @en-happiness @lhsvibez @dammit-jjk @heerinnie @primroselover @jungwon-xo @szkstay @lostwonderwall @hoonieluv @certifiedmoa @doodlelibrary @ikeuizm @kpoprhia @sleeping-demons @imtoanonymousforyou @lalalovejay @ineedsomezzz @xrr-s4sha @viagumi @electrobutterfly @mimikittysblog @blurryriki @heelcvr @wonkifangirl @joonzseoulmate @kwiwin @hoondiors @seuomo @zerasari @love-you-twice @aloverga @marz-mars @velvtcherie @niniissus @abrazosolorcereza @ddazed-lhs @acphengene @skz-streamer @kshoshi @tya0 @yizhoutv @jebetwo @myheelody @seokgyuu @blockbusterhee @luvkpopp @heeslut4life

[loveisanimaginarydagger3000]

Kinkmas (1) Tis The Season For...Love?

Natasha X Reader 18+

Summary- After stressing out over a gift you were giving to your long term crush, it seems that it really is the season for miracles to happen.

Word Count- 5.5K

Warnings/Tags: Friends to lovers, Fluff, Secret Santa, Mistletoe, 18+ Smut, Soft Smut, Fingering (R receiving), Multiple Orgasms, Tribbing, Confessions, Implied Dom Natasha/Sub Reader

Kinkmas Masterlist

---

Christmas music softly spilled from the speakers placed around the living area in the compound, the festive spirit wrapping around the room like a warm, cosy blanket, a joyful and carefree atmosphere taking over everyone despite celebrating the event ridiculously early. It was only December fifth yet it was Christmas in the Avenger's household to accommodate everyone at once; Thor having to leave earth soon, Clint wanting to spend the festive season with his family along with Tony who was planning an extravagant Christmas for Morgan, resulting in everyone to revel in the season of joy earlier than usual. Well, almost everyone.

Your body practically buzzed with nerves and anxiety as your body refused to melt against the impossibly soft cushion behind you, Wanda's body relaxed next to your tense one as she sent you a soft, reassuring smile, able to feel the sheer worry inside your mind.

"Relax," she whispers teasingly, your best friend knowing of your current predicament. "I'm sure she's going to love it, don't worry about it," she adds with a softer tone, her arm wrapping around your tense shoulders, pulling you against her body and under the the festive blanket she managed to find, the fluffy and welcoming fabric helping you attempt to try and get snug on the sofa, but how could you possibly relax with what was about to happen?

Secret Santa was officially your least favourite thing about Christmas.

It all started when you pulled out the small slip of paper out of Tony's helmet, your eyes widening at the name you pulled out.

Natasha Romanoff

You just had to get the woman who was notorious for being impossible to buy gifts for, not a single person in the team able to get her a present that she was amazed at. It wasn't that she was rude about what others got her, no, she was always polite and accepting of the gift but you always saw that glint in her eye of wanting a present that was truly heartfelt, something that screamed, 'I got this because it reminded me of you', not something bought off the shelf that she might like.

You also just had to get the woman who you may or not have had the smallest, most miniscule, microscopic crush on. It wasn't like your entire body yearned to feel her arms wrapped around your torso in a gentle, caring embrace, hear the angelic sound of her laughter, body shaking against yours as she tried to stifle the noise, to see her eyes light up in a way that shows she knows she's loved by someone, by you.

Seemingly able to feel your gaze on her, Natasha's head turned to look at you, a soft, carefree smile playing on her lips as she met your brief gaze, your eyes naturally flickering away, cheeks tinting pink in embarrassment and nerves. You could feel your heart beating wildly in your chest at the fleeting look, butterflies swarming in your stomach so much you thought that you would just combust in the festive blanket next to Wanda, the witch next to you shaking her head playfully at your awkward and shy manner.

"She's about to open it," Wanda murmurs, your head instantly raising from away the blanket, watching attentively as Steve carefully handed the neatly wrapped present to the redhead, her fingers wrapping around the item and pulling it towards her, that gentle but teasing smirk written across her face. Her eyes looked at the shape of the present, a small warmth filling her chest at the handwriting on the label, the spy already able to figure out who it was from as she looked up at the rest of the room, eyes meeting yours.

"This better not be another box of chocolates," Natasha teases, a slight rasp to her voice as her gaze reluctantly leaves you, searching for Tony who's slumped over a seat, a smile taking over his lips as he chuckles.

"It was gourmet chocolate," he argues in defence, "And it was in the shape of us all, what wasn't there to love?" His usual sarcasm comes out, Natasha rolling her eyes at him, remembering the Avenger chocolate box he somehow managed to find somewhere for her present last year, the redhead not even that big a fan of chocolate.

She merely hums in response, her fingers deftly unwrapping the gift, your eyes trained on her as she peeled away the festive paper, the action seemingly lasting forever. The thirty seconds felt like thirty minutes, your fingers anxiously playing with one another as you gauged her reaction, wanting to impress her and get her something she loved. She deserved it.

Emerald green softened as she revealed the present underneath, her smile stretching that little bit wider as she recognised what the gift was, eyes flickering up to meet yours. It was as if time stopped when she held your gaze, a glint of appreciation and gratefulness swirling in the pools of enchanting green, a hidden glint of love in them unknown to you along with a flood of warmth consuming the redhead's chest at the care and effort you put into the gift.

"It's beautiful," she murmurs in response, looking back down at the framed piece of artwork you had drawn for her, your cheeks tinting a darker shade at her praise.

The piece was of Russian scenery the two of you had encountered on a mission together, your mind replaying the moment with the redhead as you paused in your journey to gaze over the picturesque setting, Natasha confessing to you that she loved little areas like this: little spectacles hidden away for people to stumble across.

"It's just so... so peaceful," she whispered in awe as the two of you admired the endless stretch of mountain terrain, various plants and animals thriving in the distance, the nature lower down contrastingly vibrant to the snow-capped mountains, the gentle rays of the sun illuminating the view perfectly while the moment brought the two of you closer together.

You were snapped out of the brief memory by Wanda nudging your shoulder, smile wide and teasing as Natasha thanked you once again before Tony interrupted, making another sarcastic comment about how a miniature Black widow chocolate would have been a far better gift, a soft laugh leaving you as Clint threw a candy cane at the billionaire to shut him up, wanting to open his present next.

Unbeknown to you, as you focussed on Clint, Natasha kept her gaze on you, smile tender and soft, fingers tracing over the frame that had 'peaceful' engraved on it, her heart fluttering a little in her chest as she couldn't deny her feelings anymore.

She'd fallen for you.

***

After the secret Santa event had finished, you found yourself alone in the kitchen, attempting to steal one of Wanda's freshly baked cookies without her noticing as they were just so delicious, a soft chuckle making you freeze, cookie half in your mouth.

Sheepishly, you turned around to see who had caught you in the act, cheeks tinting pink once again at the sight of Natasha smiling endearingly at you, slowly strolling towards you as you bit into the cookie, hoping she wouldn't tell on you to Wanda.

"So you're the cookie thief," she whispers in a playful tone, smile widening at the shy laugh that left you as you shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly, trying to play it off.

"I don't know what you mean," you faux innocence in your voice as you watch how she moves to lean against the countertop opposite you, her arms bracing her body upright, your eyes naturally going towards her arms as they flexed slightly, a brief wave of arousal flowing through you at the sight before you flicker your gaze back to the humoured green.

"Mhmm, sure you don't," she murmurs sarcastically, pushing herself off the countertop and stopping right in front of you, her arm brushing yours as she reaches past you for a cookie, the proximity of you both making your breath hitch, her sweet perfume invading your senses, mind trying to process what was happening as all you could currently focus on was her.

"I won't tell if you don't either," her tone amused as she noticed how you smiled at her action, chuckling at her words and nodding in agreement, not wanting Wanda to threaten you with no more sweet treats, her baking skills just far too superior to give up.

"I won't tell," you whisper back, a comfortable and peaceful atmosphere filling the kitchen as you both finish off the heavenly snack before the witch could catch you in the act, Natasha then speaking up, gaining all of your attention as usual.

"Thank you for the present," her tone is nothing but soft and gentle, your smile widening at her expression, "I love it."

"I'm glad you like it. You deserved something special," you confess shyly, the gaze lingering as you both seemingly get lost in each other's eyes, the enticing green naturally drawing you in, the various shades luring you to keep gazing softly at her.

"I-" she pauses in her words when the both of you notice an object wrapped in red tendrils floating towards you, your cheeks a similar colour to Wanda's magic as you notice the piece of mistletoe that was now hanging above the two of you.

Panic and excitement seemed to fill you while relief flooded through the redhead as it was the perfect time to show how she felt towards you, already confident on how you'd react based on your not so subtle crush on her.

"You don't have to, I'm sure Wanda's just-" you ramble in case she was uncomfortable but the feeling of her hands softly cupping your cheeks makes you stop, her teeth biting down on her lower lip subtly at how adorable she found you.

"Is this ok?" she murmurs, her lips mere inches from yours as she looks into your eyes for an answer, thumbs brushing your cheeks softly.

"Yes," you sigh out, having dreamed of this moment, before tilting your head up slightly to meet her lips for the soft kiss, eyes fluttering shut as you savoured the moment. Her lips slotted perfectly against yours, her body moving closer as her hands remained cupping your cheeks, the brief kiss nothing but soft and intimate as you both pulled back from it, her lips tugging up into a smile as you eventually opened your eyes to meet hers.

Your whole body yearned to experience that again, a buzz of excitement flowing through you while joy consumed your entire body, lips stretching into a wide smile as Natasha remained close to your body, not having moved away completely.

The mistletoe above your head seems to explode into a small bundle of red tendrils in celebration, sparks of Wanda's magic gently floating around the two of you as you shake your head at your best friend's antics, thanking her in your head for her playing cupid.

"I've been wanting to do that for a while," Natasha murmurs, her fingers delicately brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear, amused at how flustered the action made you as your eyes flicker between her lips and eyes.

"Really?" you ask, almost surprised by her confession as the redhead nods in response, unable to stop the smile that creeps back onto her face.

"Really," she reassures you, your hands hesitantly going to her waist, holding her close.

"Me too," you whisper back, her arms leaving your face and mirroring your action, holding onto your waist as her face lowered once again.

"Yeah? I think we should have another one then," you softly chuckled at her words, obliging and giving into them, claiming her lips once again in a tender manner, a smile engraved on your lips as you lost yourself in the feeling of her body pressed up against yours.

"Good idea," you murmur after the two of you reluctantly pull back from the intimate kiss, her eyes gazing softly into yours before flickering back down to your lips, already addicted to you.

"Would you like to go to dinner with me tomorrow night?" Her voice a soft whisper with how close you were, not wanting to speak any louder and disrupt the tranquil and peaceful atmosphere wrapped around the two of you. You didn't think it was possible to smile any wider, breaking out into a toothy grin as the butterflies in your stomach returned, excitement coursing through your body at what was actually happening, mind slowly catching up. Natasha Romanoff, the woman you'd been crushing on forever for just kissed you and asked you out for dinner, emotions and thoughts swarming through your mind.

"I'd love to," you say, not hiding how excited you were, her lips pressing a soft kiss to your cheek as relief floods through her at your response, her mind imagining various different plans on where to take you and how to make the night special before the sound of the rest of the team caught your attention, your moment being interrupted.

"I'll meet you outside your room at six?" she asks, stealing one more cookie and breaking it in half for you, your heart melting at the action, her already able to seemingly read your mind and what you wanted.

"Six," you confirm, reaching out for her hand tentatively, the redhead squeezing it back in response before walking back into the main room with you, smiles plastered on your faces.

***

Sticking true to her words, Natasha made your night perfect, in fact, she made the next couple of weeks perfect. The redhead planned the date to the last detail, even in the short amount of time she had to prepare, taking you to a small local Italian restaurant that was nice and quiet, the food one of your favourites and the place extremely cosy and welcoming which you absolutely adored. After the delicious meal that was followed by a rich desert shared between the two of you, she took you for a casual stroll through the snow that started to fall gracefully from the darkening sky, offering you her scarf in the bitter wind and helping you wrap it around your neck, cheeks the same colour as her hair as she smirked at you all wrapped up and flustered. The smell of her sweet perfume adorned the scarf, your nose buried in the fabric to fight off the cold that didn't affect her as she was 'Russian and could handle it', despite the tip of her nose tinting red, the smell of her resulting in a sense of safety and joy to bubble in your chest as she continued to walk you till you reached a small local park already decorated for Christmas.

The two of you strolled like a couple in a romantic film through the beautifully light park, various Christmas lights wrapped around tree trunks and branches, illuminating the park in a gentle glow, the snowflakes glistening in the light, your eyes amazed by the beautiful scenery. You smiled a little under her scarf as you glanced at her by your side, arms brushing as you walked, a little surprised at how romantic the woman seemed to be, the thought of her thinking carefully about the date making your heart beat wildly in your chest at how perfect she was. To make your chest fill with more warmth and affection, her hand eventually took a hold of yours, almost shyly as she made sure you were ok with it before interlocking your fingers, squeezing gently and continuing to walk with you through the park, hand in hand.

To top it all off, she stopped in an empty area of the park and whispered sweet words to you, eyes softening at the caring expression written across your face as she asked you if she could kiss you, your head nodding instantly, her hands moving to unwrap your scarf momentarily so she could press her lips to yours, cold fingertips resting against your cheeks, both of your eyes fluttering close to savour the moment, love bubbling within both of you. This was the start of something special.

After that night, the two of you seemed to be inseparable most of the time, you especially wanting to be clingy with the redhead as the array of emotions you felt in her presence were just so addictive, your body constantly craving for her. The two of you easily slipped into a natural relationship, small acts meaning a lot to the both of you.

Natasha loved it when you simply just accompanied her while she finished off mission reports, her back against the headboard, laptop in her lap as your body leaned slightly against her, occupied with something else but still with her. Your favourite thing with her was when you'd show her your favourite films, dragging her into bed with you and cuddling into her body, teasing her about how soft she secretly was as she grumbled she wasn't 'soft', despite it being abundantly clear she was with you, your body eventually falling asleep snuggled against her with the film still playing.

However, a joint favourite were the moments you'd spend together in bed, lips moving against one another's in a sensual manner, the two of you going slow with this aspect of your relationship until now.

It was Christmas Eve and after having persuaded the redhead to leave her work alone for a bit, enticing her with the promise of kisses, she joined you on the bed, effortlessly straddling your waist, fingers threading through your hair and playing with the loose strands at the back of your neck, eyes gradually flickering over all of your features, admiring them before lowering her face marginally.

It feels like you're waiting an eternity until she lowers her face even more, her lips barely putting any pressure on yours as they briefly brush over them. Your eyes flutter close when you feel her hands cup your jaw, waiting for her to kiss you, to crash her lips to yours, to do anything at this point as you just wait, wait and wait.

When she feels like she's savoured the moment enough, she kisses you. She kisses you like she's been starved of your lips forever; it's hot, it's desperate, it's passionate. It's everything you wanted it to be. You can't do anything but melt into her touch, hand clutching at her waist to ground yourself as all you can think of is her lips moving against yours, her body pressed up against yours, her soft fingers threading through your hair, just her.

A soft moan leaves you at the intensity of the kiss, heat immediately taking over your body, her touch burning into your skin as arousal pools between your legs at the feeling of her lips moving against yours, a sensual sigh escaping her as you pull back from the kiss, eyes darkening with desire as you peer up into the green.

Your lips peck hers in between laboured breaths, her hands moving to your shoulders, gliding them down your back, her mouth taking control of the kiss as she slides her tongue into yours, earning another sinful noise out of you.

You're lost for words as her hands gently push your body down, hers pressing into yours as you lay flat on the soft mattress, her mouth persistent against yours while her hands venture across your body, driving you delirious with desire.

"Nat," you pant out when she lets her kisses move to your jaw, making her way along your jawline and down your neck, smirking against the skin at your affected tone, teeth scraping the column of your throat making your hips buck against her knee that's moved in between your legs. "Fuck, please," you groan out, fingers threading through her hair, ruffling her red locks slightly by pulling her head back up for another intimate but desperate kiss, passion and love being poured into it from both of you, mouths moving slower against each other to savour the intimacy of it.

While your mouths move together in a perfect rhythm, her hands slide down your body, reaching the hoodie you've stolen from her and slip under it, her mouth parting from yours briefly.

"Is this ok Detka?" she murmurs affectionately, eyes gazing into yours tenderly as she waits for your permission, your lips stretching into a smile as you loved how caring she was, your head tilting up to reach her lips, pressing them against hers with a smile which she reciprocates.

"Yes," you sigh out, her hands deftly sliding her item of clothing off you, eyes raking over the exposed skin, your hands going to her shirt, pulling on the bottom of it and asking the same question.

Her body moves so she's back to straddling you briefly, her hands reaching down to the hem of her shirt, pulling the shirt off teasingly slow, amused by how entranced you were, hands reaching out for her soft, smooth skin.

"You're so..." you trail off, her body lowering to be pressed against yours, her eyebrow raising in expectation as she waits for you to finish your sentence, too busy focussing on the feeling of her warm body touching yours.

"So?" she pushes, one of her fingers trailing down your neck and lower, just hovering above your breasts, the action causing you to lose track of your thoughts as lust swirls in your eyes.

"Perfect. Beautiful. Mesmerising-" she cuts you off when you finally figure out the words to describe her sheer beauty, her cheeks slightly tinted red at your adoring tone, the compliments making her smile into the kiss as she lets her hands roam around your body, reaching the clasp of your bra and waiting for you to nod once again.

"Flirt," she chuckles out, unclasping your bra and tossing it onto the floor, your hands sliding up her body and mirroring the action, unclasping her bra and gaze instantly flickering down to her breasts that press into you as her body moves against yours. "You're divine Detka," she purrs, mouth at the shell of your ear, voice low and raspy sending a wave of arousal straight to your core, the heat intolerable.

"Nat, I need you, please," you whisper out, the redhead pulling back slightly so she could see your eyes, searching them to see if you truly meant it. Your hands interlock with hers, guiding one of them down your body to where the waistband of your joggers were to emphasise your point.

"Are you sure?" she asks softly, fingers sliding under the fabric briefly, not venturing any further as she wants you to be sure. She wants this moment to be special and intimate.

"I'm sure," you murmur back, face softening at her caring manner. "Now kiss me," you sigh out playfully, the redhead obliging in your demand and kissing you sensually, hands sliding your joggers off before returning to your clothed core, groaning at how wet you already were.

"You've been waiting so long for this, haven't you?" she whispers against your lips, the pad of her index finger slowly circling your clit through your drenched panties, a soft moan escaping you at the pleasure that slowly builds at her actions.

"So long," you reply honestly, her eyes gazing into your lust-filled ones, memorising your face as your mouth parts slightly as she trails a finger along your core, your hips bucking against her hand softly, "Please, I need you to touch me."

"I'll take care of you Detka, don't worry" her tone loving as she slides her fingers under the waistband of the lace you were wearing, pulling it down your legs at a torturous pace, mouth placing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw as your head lolls back. "Tell me to stop and I will," she softly mumbles against your skin, one of her fingers sliding through your folds, gathering some of the abundance of arousal pooled between your legs, a soft, desperate noise leaving you at the feeling of finally being touched. Her free hand interlocks with one of yours, pinning it above your head gently as her lips mould against yours, stealing your breath away.

When her finger moves to circle your clit, pleasure sparks through your body, the intimacy of the moment adding to the arousal clouding your mind as a broken moan escapes you, the noise being swallowed by her mouth, Natasha smirking into the messy kiss.

"Does that feel good, Detka?" she teases in a soft murmur, repeating the action and earning another sinful sound, a gasp leaving you as another finger ghosts your entrance, the redhead leaning back in for another kiss, wanting more of you, needing more of you.

"Yes, Fuck, Nat," you groan when she slowly thrusts her finger into you, purposely taking her time with you as she intends to drive you mad with her touch, your eyes fluttering open, meeting enamoured green as she curls her digit inside you, mouth parting at the feeling. "Shit, just like that, please do that again," you practically beg her as she thrusts her finger back in, hitting your sweet spot perfectly while her thumb moves to circle your clit, lips moving to the shell of your ear.

"Do you need more, Detka?" her tone still teasing, wanting to hear how desperate you were, her finger persisting with her deliberately slow pace, gradually building the pleasure within you as your hips gently rock against her hands, your free hand moving to tangle in her red locks, wanting to keep her close.

"Please," is all you moan back in response, her hand parting from yours and moving down your body to cup one of your breasts, fingers ghosting over your sensitive nipple, sending more heat to build between your thighs.

"Tell me what you what," she murmurs, still at the shell of your ear, her tone making your mind fog with the thought of her.

"Faster, please move your fingers faster," you whimper out, her slow pace having your body beg for more, her smirking against your skin once again.

"Good girl for telling me," she praises and you can't help the groan that leaves you at the praise, her obeying your command and thrusting her finger into you a little faster, allowing more waves of pleasure to flood through you, fingers grasping the sheets as she reads your body perfectly, giving you exactly what you want.

"I'm so close," you pant against her, hips moving a little more frantically against her hand as she slides in another finger, stretching you beautifully. Another lewd noise is ripped out of the back of your throat as she curls both of them against your sweet spot, your hips bucking against her, hands moving to her face, guiding her back to your lips and moaning into her mouth when her fingers at your breast softly pinch your nipple, more pleasure shooting through you as you feel your orgasm about to crash through you.

"Come for me," she murmurs ever so softly into your mouth, a broken moan leaving you at her words, body obeying and crashing straight into your release, pleasure and euphoria crashing through your entire body. You clench around her fingers, hands tightening their grip momentarily on her red locks as she swallows the string of moans that spill gracefully from your lips, your hips grinding against her hand as you ride out the aftershocks of your orgasm.

Soft kisses around your face encourage you to gradually flutter your eyes open, meeting the gentle green you were falling so deeply in love with, her smile widening at your blissed out state, her fingers slowly pulling out of you.

You tilt your head to meet her plump, kiss swollen lips, hands delicately brushing against the skin of her hips, gradually building in pressure until you are gripping them softly, intent in your actions that doesn't go unnoticed by the redhead.

"You don't have to," she whispers in between lazy kisses, eyes meeting yours before she lets her gaze flicker across your features, admiring the slope of your nose, tinted cheeks and lips pulling into a tender smile.

"I want to, if that's ok?" you murmur back, searching her eyes as one of your fingers slips under the waistband of her joggers, softly caressing the skin there while you wait for her response.

"You wanna make me come, Detka?" she purrs out, a small gasp leaving you at her words as she ghosts her lips against yours, her tone making your head spin as arousal swarms through your body once again. When you nod back in response, heart beating wildly in your chest at the way she was looking at you, she chuckles at your submissive form, claiming your lips softly. "I've got a better idea," she whispers back, your brows furrowing in confusion until she effortlessly and swiftly pulls her remaining clothes off, your eyes widening in shock at how beautiful she was, devouring the soft, creamy skin that was on display before she manoeuvres your bodies so that your cores are pressed against one another.

A broken moan leaves your lips while a low sigh escapes her, emerald eyes fluttering close in pleasure as you peer up at her face, admiring how her mouth parted slightly at the feeling of her body pressing into yours.

"Fuck," she curses, voice low and raspy as she gives a small grind of her hips against yours, a soft moan escaping you at her voice. God that was the hottest thing you've ever heard.

"You feel so good, so good," she murmurs, leaning down to press her lips to yours, swallowing another sinful sound from you before sliding her tongue into your mouth, the kiss turning messy as your hips roll against each other.

"Nat," you whimper out and it's pathetic how desperate you sound, her hands finding yours and interlocking your fingers, pinning them above your head and grinding her hips down harder against you, your back arching and pushing your body closer to hers.

"Y/n," she sighs back, tone almost as affected as she moves her mouth to the shell of your ear, a groan leaving you as you hear all the soft, sensual sighs that escape her, the small pants of breath as your clits brush perfectly, pleasure consuming you both.

Your fingers tighten their grip on her hand, hips bucking up a little frantically against hers as your second orgasm swiftly builds, her body on top of yours restricting your movement and denying you the friction you so desperately needed to send you over the edge. Upon sensing how close you were, her hips grind down harder, mouth letting out a soft moan by your ear to make arousal spike through your body along with pleasure.

"Please," you beg, voice laced with desperation as your body teeters on the edge of your release, Natasha losing her own composure at your tone, thrusting her hips against you with less rhythm as they start to stutter against yours.

"Come with me," she groans against your lips, kissing you with passion as you both fall over the edge, pleasure, euphoria and love consuming your bodies as you rock against one another, hands holding onto each other as you ride out your orgasms.

The room fills with the sound of soft sighs and laboured breaths, your body trembling a little under hers, hands releasing one another prompting you to hold onto her waist, face hiding at the crook of your neck as you seek comfort against her warm skin, your breath tickling her slightly. A few moments later, the feeling of soft fingers brushing along your jawline and pushing your hair back coaxes you out of the safety of her neck, Natasha wanting to look at you.

The redhead smiles at you affectionately, pressing one last gentle kiss against your lips, both of you practically grinning into it at the overwhelming feeling of joy taking over you, her body sliding off yours and pulling you into her arms to cuddle, her warm skin and soft body perfect for you to melt against.

You keep her gaze for a moment, the soft, tender look lingering as you build up the courage to confess to her, Natasha waiting patiently as she senses you're about to say something.

"Natasha I... I love you," you murmur, the quietness of the room making you hear your own pounding heart as you wait for her reaction, her lips pulling into a genuine, wide smile, arms snaking further around your body and pulling you closer.

"I love you too," she whispers back in a loving tone, pressing a kiss to your temple and letting her forehead rest against yours, her eyes flickering over to the clock on the nightstand briefly, noting the time. "Merry Christmas Detka," her tone affectionate as your leg slides between hers, tangling your limbs together as you cuddle into each other, her words eliciting a smile from you.

"Merry Christmas Nat," you say back in a similar tone, eyes meeting hers, love and joy engraved onto your faces as you kiss once more before eventually drifting off to sleep in each other's arms, locked in a lovers embrace. 

[realtalkswithfinn]

Christmas at the Compound

Avengers x reader

Summary: Avengers x reader Christmas head cannons because I am a sucker for the found family trope.

a/n: I tried to get this up before christmas but totally spaced it, so… tale it as a christmas morning gift! I tried to make it as age neutral as possible, so it could totally be teen!reader or not.

The holidays are a tough time for the Avengers.

Most of them have lost family members or friends, and the idea of celebrating anything is extremely difficult.

Tony especially - he always gets gloomy around the Holidays.

He always says something along the lines of, "I don't actually care about this, but its social convention."

But secretly he cares a lot.

He overcompensates for his lack of affection throughout the year by buying everyone the expensive gifts he knows they want but could never justify spending on themselves.

At surface level, it just seems like “oh rich guy is spending rich guy money”

But they’re actually really thoughtful gifts

Like last year, he got Peter a new laptop for school.

He bought Bucky new and thick clothes since all of his were old and worn.

He upgraded Clints cellular data so he could talk to his family anywhere.

Things like that.

Sam and Rhodey take one for the team and string the christmas lights on the tower

“It’s too cold for this.” Sam would complain, the sharp wind nipping at his cheeks as he flew from one end of the building to the other, lights in tow.

“Come one man, where’s your christmas spirit?” Rhodey would laugh

“I’m just doing this so stark’s power bill goes up.”

it really was worth it seeing the tower lit up top to bottom though

Wanda LIVES for commercialized American Christmas

"We have to make gingerbread houses and go to Rockefeller to see the Christmas tree and we have to go out to the snow and go sledding-"

She demands family Christmas photos be taken, even though you don't really have anyone to send them to.

This years theme was christmas pjs

Which lead to a few very interesting viral videos of the avengers in an Old Navy

“Tony come on the reindeer ones are cute!”

“Bruce. A man can not hold onto his masculinity while wearing pjs with dancing reindeer.”

Natasha gets tired of the bellyaching and bickering and makes the final decision

She grabs everyone’s size in the Reindeer pjs and marches to the front of the store

After snagging Tony’s credit card, of course.

Actually taking the picture is a whole other ball game, but that’s a story for another day

Thor has a hard time with the idea of Santa

You try to explain it to him, but it doesn’t seem to help

“So a fat man breaks into the safety of your home late into the night… and you let it happen because he comes baring gifts?”

“Well… yeah.”

“But only to nice children. That he stalks throughout the year.”

“He doesn’t stalk the children he just…”

“Hm.” He squints. “what about the naughty children?”

“They don’t get any presents.”

“OR,” Wanda interjects, “Krampus comes to get them.”

“Is that another fat man in a red disguise?”

“No. He’s a demon sent from hell to eat them.”

Thor nods in approval. “Ah. That’s much more asgardian. A fair reward system for the youth!”

You stare at him. “So… you’re okay with Krampus but not Santa?”

“Well I think they work together well, like a team. Like us!”

“I… I guess…”

Decorating the tree was an all night event

You would help happy bring up what felt like hundreds of boxes of christmas decorations

The tree itself was about 15 feet tall, because it wouldn’t be a holiday at the compound if you guys weren’t extra

It was placed in the living space, right next to a huge wall of windows so all of New York could see your festivity

it had to be decorated to the nines to pass Wanda’s inspection

Not a bare branch

Theres tinsel, ribbons, colorful lights, and hundreds of ornaments

But of course, ladders were a no go

You guys liked a challenge

To reach the higher branches, you and Natasha would stand on Steve and Buckys shoulders

And I mean stand

Not sit

It was a thrilling balancing game

You trusted them to catch you if you fell, but you still had to try to avoid it at all costs to save the tree from certain destruction

Peter would dangle from the ceiling, crawling around to hang ornaments toward the very top

Both of these acts nearly gave Bruce and Vision a heart attack

“CAP, you’re moving to fast shes gunna lose balance-“

“Bruce, please take a breath.”

Meanwhile Thor is getting distracted by all the ornaments and forgetting to actually hang them up

“This one’s a little man of snow! How silly!”

Speaking of ornaments

You all have an ornament of yourself on the tree

Or, your super hero alias at least

There’s a tiny black widow, a little iron man, a bity baby hulk, so on and so forth

Tony always demands his be the highest up on the tree to fuel his god complex

Drawing names out of a hat to see who got to put the star on top of the tree

(except you guys would always rig it behind Wanda’s back, only putting her name in the hat)

She would always protest, insisting to let someone else do it this year, but you guys never relented

So with a big cheesy grin on her face, she would use her magic to delicately place the star on the tippy top

You would think Natasha wouldn’t want to see the Nutcracker Ballet after her time in the red room

But it makes her so happy to see dancing as an art form instead of a way to brainwash young girls

She drags you, Clint, Wanda, and whoever else wants to tag along every year

She even splurges on front row seats

You look over and see her eyes glittering while she watches every turn, leap, and stunt intently

Leaving the theater, she’ll walk on her toes and do a few turns, encouraging you to try as well.

She ends up cackling watching you trip and stumble

“We’ll work on it.”

Can you IMAGINE the ginger bread making contest???

You’re all huddled around the long dining room table with christmas music playing

Theres Clint and Natasha, who just make the classic gingerbread house, no fancy bells or whistles.

Then there’s Bruce,Tony, and Peter who are going absolutely wild building gingerbread sky scrapers and gingerbread hotels.

“Mr. Stark look, I made a working elevator!”

Bruce puts an electric system (fairy lights) through his

Steve and Bucky rebuild their childhood homes

Wanda is going all out, delicately hand placing every candy and covering the whole thing in edible glitter

Visions is pretty similar, but more sleek and modern than Wanda’s

And then there’s Thor, who’s totally missing the point and just DUMPING everything on top

“Hey Peter, I think yours is missing something.”

You string a long thread of white rope candy from his structure to yours.

“Webs!”

“You know… we can probably make a web-like consistency with some starch and frosting…”

That becomes a whole sticky project, but you eventually get it to work, connecting everyone’s gingerbread houses with icing webs

Steve and Bucky are TOTALLY participating in the classic christmas traditions they grew up on.

They sit quietly together in the living room, making paper chains and stringing popcorn

“Do you mind if I join you guys?”

they smile gently. “Of course not.”

You sit crisscross in front of the couch while they teach you

They tell you stories of christmases long, long ago, which feels kinda silly considering they’re talking like grandpas while not appearing much older than you

On Christmas eve, you’re all there except for Clint, who went home to his family

Youre all dressed in your pajamas from the christmas card

You make hot coco and cider

Wanda pops in some old vhs tapes and you watch the classics late into the night

“Alright you nutcrackers,” tony would say around midnight. “I know you want to stay up and catch Santa, but he’s not coming if you all stay awake.”

he really just wanted to go to bed

He sauntered off, calling for lights out.

Most of the boys wandered away to their rooms, leaving you, Wanda, Nat and Thor not quite ready for sleep.

“So,” you ask, taking a sip of coco, “Do you guys think we’re on the naughty list?”

Natasha Chuckled. “I’m not sure. Does beating people up count as naughty if you’re taking down the bad guys?”

Thor set his mug down on the coffee table, the bells on his sweater jingling. “Do not fear ladies, I will catch that nasty Krampus if he comes in to devour your soul. I believe you were doing the right thing.”

You all laughed, thinking he was joking. But he just stared at you.

“Thor… you realize Krampus and Santa aren’t… real?” Wanda asked.

He had a hard time swallowing that.

He ended up sleeping on the couch “just in case”

you woke up at 3 am to a loud clattering coming from the living room

You decided to check it out against your better judgement

There was Thor. Hammer in one hand, cookie in another.

Down the hall toward the elevator was a completely destroyed life-size nutcracker.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“I thought I heard something by the elevator.”

“Congratulations. You murdered the Nutcracker.”

“I feared he was an accomplice of the holiday demon.”

“He’s been there for weeks!”

“He could have been a spy. Or possessed.”

“Goodnight Thor.”

Christmas Morning finally arrived

Everyone was sleeping soundly in their beds

Until Sam decided to be a little shit and wake everyone up at 7 am

He pounded on every. single. bedroom door.

“Y/NNNN. SANTA CAME TO TOWNNNNN.” he sing-songed

“No he didn’t.” You grumbled. “Thor killed him.”

“… I don’t know what that means.”

You all stumble out into the living room

Natasha took the time to actually run a brush through her hair and do her morning skincare

You and wanda were far too excited and skipped over that completely, barely remembering to brush your teeth

Tony looked the roughest - he had a silk robe draped over his pjs and looked like he was just awakened from a coma

Essentially, everyone was a little disheveled

Vision made everyone coffee before you started the gift exchange

You all sat around the coffee table in a circle so everyone could see each other

Bruce and Steve passed out the gifts from under the tree

it took a solid few minutes, there was a MOUNTAIN of presents

You went one at a time opening gifts

Some people think this is awkward, but you felt it was more genuine

this way, everyone can see the gift and the joy on the receivers face

as well as a million “thank you”s

It also gave time for the giver to explain why they chose the gift they did, whether it be something they remembered you said you wanted, something they knew you needed, or even just a simple “this made me think of you”

In the end, you loved all your gifts

And everyone loved what you got for them

But mostly, you were just happy to spend the holiday with your family

[itaipava]

— christmas with f1 boys.

˒ ⌕ LANDO NORRIS

snow fight: he would take you to make angels in the snow but, when you least expected it, you would be attacked by a snowball and when you looked at him, he would act confused as if nothing had happened, so you take advantage of this moment and play more snow on him, which causes a snow fight. you lose track of time because you’re too busy throwing snow at each other while trying to hide: you laugh so much and have fun like children. after a while, he comes to you: he hugs you and kisses you several times, which makes you laugh even more because his lips are cold. later you go home to watch christmas movies while drinking hot chocolate.

˒ ⌕ DANIEL RICCIARDO

building a snowman: he would be very excited to build a snowman with you and he wouldn’t even try to hide it because honestly he probably waited all year for it to snow so he could build one with you. he would try to make it look like one of his friends but it wouldn’t work anyway. the snowman is a little jagged and deformed, but you two worked so hard on it, you love it anyway. he would let you add the finishing touches like; the scarf, the nose, and any hat you could find in the dorm that would fit your crazy snowman. his name would be from your shipp and he would take so many pictures to always remember this special and funny moment.

˒ ⌕ CARLOS SAINZ

making cookies together: he promises to help you, but he spends all the time with his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder as he watches you do all the work by yourself. but after you complain, he helps you cut the cookie dough in the shape of stars and christmas trees, complaining about how cliché it is but still enjoying spending time with you: this moment is so precious and genuine to him, spending this day with you it’s truly a blessing. and when the cookie is done, he smiles and brags about being an amazing cook

˒ ⌕ CHARLES LECLERC

ice skating; he would pick you up on a date, not telling you where you were going; so you would be very surprised when he pulls into the parking lot of an outdoor ice skating rink. it would be all decorated for the holiday with christmas lights everywhere and it’s so beautiful you can’t stop smiling and admiring the place around you. you’d probably need to wear those things kids use and hold so they don’t fall on the ice and he’d quickly grab it for you, trying to hide the smile on his face. he just circles around you while you barely move and try not to fall. when you start to get a little more used to it, he grabs your hands and holds you to keep you steady, looking sweetly at you. asking strangers to take a picture of you two for him to send to his family as a keepsake. then he’d buy you hot chocolate later and walk around town with you until it’s time to go home <3

˒ ⌕ OSCAR PIASTRI

going to shop together: walking through the crowded mall hand in hand as christmas music plays softly on the intercoms. after buying some presents for your friends (with you having to help him because he has no idea what to buy) you decide to split up to buy presents for each other; at the end of the day he takes you to dinner in a beautiful and comforting place. he lightly pats your hand on the table as you wait for your food to arrive, enjoying the snow falling outside.

˒ ⌕ LEWIS HAMILTON

decorating the christmas tree: he would have all the trinkets and decorations ready when you get there and he would smile a little embarrassed at how excited he is; he would take it so seriously; it would be so cute and precious. he probably has a color scheme for all the embellishments and decorations, so everything matches and that makes you even more enchanted. he helps you to place all the ornaments that are too high on the tree for you to reach; smiling without you noticing because he doesn’t want this moment so unique and pure to end ever. he also loves taking photos of you distracted while you decorate the tree or when you pet roscoe who watches the two of you with curiosity. he also likes to take several photos of the three of you together, to save this precious and genuine moment and to post everywhere — and brag about having a beautiful family.

˒ ⌕ MAX VERSTAPPEN

making a gingerbread house: he’s the one who came up with the idea and honestly he’s really good at it! he is very focused and silent as he puts the frosting on the walls of the house, but he also gets even more intense and focused as he glues the walls together, whispering something like “no sudden moves, babe.” as if it were the most important thing of all. but of course, he would still have fun with it and mess with you a bit; he probably smears frosting on your cheek or nose and kisses you with the excuse to ‘clean up’ but you two would also discuss how to decorate the outside of the house; he wants to use chewing gum as a doorknob and you want to make one with glace; it takes hours to finish, but once done it looks amazing; it’s a mix of both of your design ideas and you both love it <3

[calummss]

having a baby with marshall mathers/eminem

masterlist

headcanon includes timeline, pregnancy and after birth bullet points

for the purpose of this headcanon the baby is called romy

timeline

i imagine marshall to also be young in this universe — 24 years old, can barely keep a job down. you work multiple jobs to pull through college. becoming parents was the last thing on your mind

finding out you were pregnant was a shock; as much sex as you two had, you always made sure to be protected, so when you suddenly realised your period was late and took a pregnancy test your heart literally dopped

you literally dropped everything, crammed the test into your pockets and marched through the frosty detroit morning to the restaurant marshall was currently employed under and asked to see him

marshall assured you that whatever conclusion you came to would be right and would support you no matter what

that definitely was the biggest weight lifted off your shoulders—the reassurance that marshall would stick with you if you decided to keep the baby

it was definitely a tough decision and took you almost two weeks to completely make up your mind

you ofc decided to keep the baby (otherwise whats the point of this headcanon?)

marshall promised to that he would be by your side and support his new family

literally 5 seconds after you told him you wanted to keep the baby, he pulled out a ring and said ‘thank god cause this is just a good excuse to marry you’

and we all know that having a child in marriage is far easier (but marshall also loved you and would’ve married you anyways)

baby mathers would be born on december 25th aka christmas because it would just be the best christmas present

what it would include (during pregnancy)

i feel like marshall is the type to be extra careful with you; offering his arm or hand when walking down steps, not letting you carry heavy things, making sure you cannot be hurt in whatever it is you are doing. and if any of his friends did something harmless but he saw it as a danger, he would be so pissed off

i also think it’s very possible for him to call your unborn baby ‘baby mathers; little slim’ something sweet that builds a connection

i imagine marshall to be very helpful with things around the house or other things that need to be done but he’ll definitely be pissed a few times because even though he understands that you’re supposed to relax and take care of yourself and the baby, he feels an extra burden so maybe he snaps once or twice? he immediately apologises but it’s a lot for a man who constantly takes new jobs and tries to be the best husband and father

i 100% see him talking to your stomach. he’ll talk to his daughter, catch her up on life and what he’s doing

‘hello baby, it’s daddy. mommy only has a few months left before we finally get to meet you. don’t take too long though because mama is startin’ to get very tired. the doctor said that you’re due for christmas. now daddy isn’t one who belives in destiny but you my little lady are goin’ to be our little christmas present. daddy has no money right now and that makes him feel like a bum but he’ll work extra hard to give you everything you ever want… if you ever want a unicorn you just come and let daddy know, okay?’

i have this gut feeling that he tries to hide his feelings. during this time marshall is so overwhelmed. he’s happy to welcome his daughter, stressed because he doesn’t know how long his job will last and how much money he can put down. you’ll find him crying in the kitchen one night after you wake up and couldn’t feel him beside you. you let him cry alone knowing he needed alone time

marshall will try to honour your cravings and buy you anything you want. if he’s short on money or can’t leave he will ask deshaun to swing by (and shaun cannot say no to you)

the d12 group will 100% pledge allegiance to baby mathers!! like you just now that as soon as you hang out together they’re gonna talk about how baby mathers will be protected at all costs, no one’s gonna f*ck with her etc. it’s like they’re her bodyguards ready to get at anyone’s neck who would even dare take a wrong glance at her

marshall’s arm would drape over your stomach when you two sleep at night. his arm would go from lying on a flat surface to a montain but he didn’t seem to mind. it was a habit he picked up

when you get closer to your due date this man would be stressed!! i mean stressed! any call out (shit, fuck, no, yes, what, literally the list goes on and on) would have a panting marshall by your side in less than a few seconds. he’s just waiting for your water to break. he’s extra careful during the last weeks because at this point you’re also stressed and just want the pregnancy to be done with

so when your water does finally break you know the bag is packed and in less than 5 minutes you’re on your way to the hospital, i just know it

extra: during labour he’s so supportive: holding your hand, motivating you, but deep inside he’s so much more stressed than you are lmao

what it would include (after birth)

he would not be able to let go of her. any time you turn away and look back he’d have little romy in his arms, literally hearts in his eyes as he stares down at her

you both decided on breastfeeding but you bought formula so that he could feed her and seeing him holding her in his arms feeding her the bottle makes your heart skip a beat. it allowed him to be as close to her as you were during feedings

he is absolutely obsessed with her hands. he loves how her baby hand wraps around his finger, and when she’s older the feeling of her small hand in his as it engulfs hers

plus he loves carrying her. he just loves the closeness. he will carry his baby girl anywhere and everywhere

marshall would be so proud to show her off to his friends. and if she wasn’t with him he’d find any reason to talk about her. they could be talking about the best ways to make a drink and he’d just start rambling about baby romy. some of them playfully roll their eyes but understand where he’s coming from

he’ll definitely be overwhelmed the first months when she wakes up crying in the middle of the night because it just adds to the stress but will never openly complain about it. he toughens up and goes to her room to calm her down

he’d have an addiction with baby clothes and browsing around stores literally fighting himself wether or not he actually needs to buy certain things

he’ll only address his daughter as ‘baby’ to the point you tell him to start calling her romy because she’d probably start to believe that baby was her name

marshall would definitely beat himself up trying to live up to his own expectations as a father. having no father to look up to, he tries to do his daughter justice but feels like he fails her in certain moments. those moments similar to those during pregnancy, he would sit alone in the kitchen just thinking about how to make things right

he’d insist on bringing baby romy EVERYWHERE. this man cannot stay away from her for longer than a few hours. she’s his serotonin, his lifeline

he’d have a piggy bank for her where he would put a 1/4 of his pay into so that she would be able to buy things she wanted

romy (and you) would serve as his main inspiration for music and also motivate him to work hard to make it out of greensbriar

after his rise to fame, despite his busy work schedule, marshall tries to spend as much time with her as possible

he tries to do few shows so that he’s not away from her and you for too long

with the rise of fame, his income flooded in. marshall buys her almost everything she wants. not stuff she doesn’t need but a lot. he’s not spoiling her in the way you think. he just wants her to have everything he didn’t have and make her happy. and if buying her a fourth barbie doll makes his baby smile then he will buy her that fourth barbie doll!!

though romy serves as his drive and motivation and inspiration for many of his songs, he tries to keep her out of the spotlight and out of hollywood. as soon as he’s done recording, attending award shows etc. he’s back on a plane to detroit to see his baby the only lady he adores (see what i did? ofc you did.)

he’d just be such an amazing father which you remind him of every day. he still doubts a lot but he’s starting to know his impact on her life

also romy comes before anything else!! daddy-daughter-day at kindergarten? sorry dre but this recording will be postponed. tour dates fall onto romy’s first day of school? yeah that tour night ain’t happening—i think you get what i’m trying to say. nothing will stop him from experiencing milestones and important memories in her life and in his life as a father (learned what not to do from his father)

the older she gets the more sentimental he becomes. seeing his baby grow up makes him sad and proud at the same time. she’s not only his whole world but she is the reason for him breathing and continuing in life even if it seems that life doesn’t want him to win

you made romy a cd with all the songs dedicated or about her from her daddy so when she’s in her room playing with dolls whatever, his songs are on repeat and the sight of it could make him fall to his knees (metaphorically speaking)

when romy turns 4 and older she’ll randomly make him watch her self choreographed dances or sing along to his songs and you best believe he is smiling and clapping after EVERY performance his baby girl gives!! he’s her number 1 fan. he even encourages her to show his friends and you already now they’re hyping up their little lady

and when romy is 15, oh she’s gonna rap him some of his songs and he’ll have the same reaction. maybe even share the stage for one song? who knows?

marshall is known for his rap and not for his cooking for a reason but he has few recipes like pancakes or foods he grew up with that are staples and enjoys cooking them for romy (she has her dad’s tastebuds 100%)

when romy has nightmares he’ll let her sleep in your bed for as long as she needs to feel safe again (deep down he never wants his baby to leave)

[henrycangelbaby]

In which: Joel wanted to say so many things—to apologize for the time he had lost together, to say sorry for losing her—but he couldn't. He pulled back slightly, encompassing her face with his hands. She leaned into him, nuzzling her cheek into his palm.

Or

Joel is reunited with his babygirl.

The house is quiet when Joel gets home; it's rather surprising to him; he expects to hear giggles coming from the kitchen or the living room, but the only thing that he can hear is the low chatter of the TV in the next room over. He wonders if maybe Sarah has decided to be responsible and send herself and Y/N off to bed at a reasonable time, but he doubts it; the two of them never really seemed to put responsibility over having a good time together.

 Joel doesn't even remember when Y/N and Sarah had become best friends. It felt like it had just been this way forever; he remembers when a very young Sarah had come home practically begging to have her new best friend to sleep over one night, and suddenly Y/N was sleeping over every other night. He should have been annoyed about it. Joel already had enough on his plate, raising Sarah by himself, but she had been such a sweet kid, so kind and lovely to Sarah. They seemed so inseparable, spending all day at school together to only to come home together giggling over things he didn't understand at the dinner table before crashing together in Sarah's bed for the night.

 He simply couldn't say no to yet another sleepover, so when Sarah called him after getting home from school, asking if Y/N could stay the night, he mockingly sighed before agreeing wholeheartedly. 

Joel found them in the living room together. The question of the silence was quickly answered when he saw Sarah laying on the couch; a peaceful sleep overtaken her. He then spots her best friend next to her. Y/N isn't asleep; instead, she sits awake, her head propped up dangerously on her palm. The sight of it makes Joel smile a little bit; despite everything, Y/N was a good kid. 

The older that she had gotten, the more he had gotten insight into why she spent so much time at his house. She spoke occasionally of her father's temper, her mother's ignorance, and how it had scared her and how sometimes she couldn't sleep from the fear. It had made his heart ache, as well as quelling any annoyance that he had felt feeding four people instead of three. Y/N had been a part of their family for years now; she spent all the holidays with them, buying everyone Christmas presents as well as doing chores around the house when Sarah did.

Her presence made Sarah very happy, and it eased Joel's worry for her. As long as she was under his roof, she was safe and happy, and that's what matters. 

Y/N's head snapped up at the sound of Joel's boots walking into the living room; she smiled up at him before, pointing to Sarah and miming for him to be quiet. He smirked as he sat down next to her. She launched into hugging him the moment he was sat, her eyes bright with enthusiasm.

 “Happy birthday, Joel!” 

He chuckled, his heart warmed by the action. “Thanks, baby girl,” he spoke before she continued, “I'm sorry I could be here this morning to make breakfast for you.” She pouted lightly. He just shook his head, patting her on the head gently. 

“That's ok, you're here now,” he assured her. “How've you been, honey?” 

He tried to be subtle about the way he worried for her wellbeing; he knew it had only been one day since he'd seen her, but both him and Sarah had been a little taken aback when she hadn't shown up at school the previous day. 

“Everything ok?” He asked, 

she hummed, “Yeah, I missed you and Sarah yesterday." 

As if awakened by her name, Sarah slowly sat up while Joel responded, “We missed you too." 

Joel turned his attention to Sarah as she sat up. “What are you girls doing up so late?" 

“Crud, what’s the time?” Sarah asked, looking up at the clock,

 “Way past your bedtime." Joel said

"But it’s still today,” she spoke.

Joel watched suspiciously as Y/N reached down to grab something while Sarah was talking, handing it to Sarah behind her back. Joel fought the urge to roll his eyes at their antics: 

“Listen girls, please not right now; I don’t have the energy for this." 

Before he could continue to complain, Sarah passed a box into his hands. “Here,” 

his curiosity peaked. “What’s this?” 

“Your birthday, silly." Y/N answered. 

He opened the box slowly, smirking slightly at the sight of a watch-shaped gift inside.

“You kept complaining about your broken watch,” Sarah explained,

“so we figured well.” Y/N continued,

“You like it?” They asked together, young eyes peering up at him; 

He couldn't help himself from pulling a small joke on them. "Girls, this is...” 

They cocked their heads in confusion together.

 “It's nice, but i… I think it's stuck; it's not." 

They leaned over in concern, looking at each other confused. 

“No.” Y/N was quick to state.

“What?” Sarah added.

He smirked. Y/N was the first to realize he was messing with them. “Ha ha, very funny Joel." 

Sarah slapped his arm away lightly.

“Where'd you guys get the money for this anyway?” he questioned. 

“Drugs,” Sarah answered without missing a beat. 

Y/N nodded alongside her. “Yeah, we sell drugs, only the hardcore stuff,” she added on. 

“This is great news; you two can start helping me out with the mortgage,”.

They shook their heads. “You wish." 

He knew it wouldn't be long until they both knocked out with the TV on in the background. Soon enough, they were passed out laying on top of each other in the way they usually did. He took them up to Sarah's bed one by one; he could remember a time when they had fit on one arm each, carrying them both effortlessly to bed.

Oh, how times had changed. 

It was the phone ringing that woke Y/N up; she had ended up on the side closest to it, likely (definitely) courtesy of Joel. The ringing wouldn't stop; she picked up the phone hesitantly, 

“Hello?” “Y/N? Sweetie, is that you?” 

She recognized his voice the moment he spoke, 

“Yeah, Tommy, what's up?” 

“I need you to put Joel on the phone now; can you do that for me, honey?” 

“Um,” she tried to think her brain was too sleepy to process what he was saying. 

“I need to speak to him now there's som-” 

The phone cut off before he could finish speaking. What was happening? 

Y/N gently shook Sarah awake, worried about Tommy's odd phone call. Sarah awoke to the pleas of her name. She pushed herself up gently. 

“What's going on? Y/N, what time is it?” 

Y/N ignored the question, explaining panickedly about the phone call. Sarah only looked at her worried.

“Let's go find dad.” She offered her hand out. 

The young girls walked around hand in hand, calling for Joel in the quiet, abandoned house. They stopped together inside Joel's room; the TV was playing a news report being shown despite the late time. They both turned around at a loud sound of something in the distance. 

“Uh.. What was that?” Sarah questioned

Y/N shrugged beside her, “Something weird is happening, Sarah." 

The empty kitchen was lit up by Joels phone screen, the ringing the only sound in the otherwise deserted kitchen. 

“8 missed calls,” Sarah stated after peering at the busted lock screen, “where the hell are you?” 

Y/N hummed; this was all so weird. The attention of the two girls was suddenly pulled to the sound of a door being yanked open. Joel stepped through it, slamming it shut behind him. Sarah let out a breath in relief.

“There you are, we whe-” 

“Girls.” Joel interrupted, his tone suddenly serious. “Are you both okay?” He continued; 

They both nodded confused. He spoke again, his back to them, busying himself with something. 

“Has anyone come in here?” Sarah and Y/N shared a glance 

“No” Sarah answered, 

“Why would anyone be in here?” Y/N added on. 

He shook his head, muttering to himself, “Stay back, okay? Away from the door.”

 Sarah spoke again, “Dad, you're freaking us out a little." 

“Joel, what's going on?” Y/N asked

“It's the Coopers.” He responded quickly and seriously, “Something ain't right with 'em."

"Are they sick?” Y/N asked worriedly

 “Yeah.” He let out a breath, "Yeah, they are."  

A sudden thud scared them, both jumping back in fright. Joel cursed under his breath, 

“C'mere.” 

He motioned for the two girls to stand behind him, pushing them away from the door. Suddenly the glass on the door was smashed, warnings flew out of Joel's mouth, none of them heard as the gunshot rang through the house, the material of his shirt quickly fisted in fear.He pushed them backwards, ignoring their pleas for an explanation.

"Listen, my girls,” he spoke seriously. “There is something bad going on." 

"We have to get out of here; you understand me.” The young girls shared a scared look before agreeing. 

They were quickly ushered to a waiting Tommy, he spoke angrily towards an unfocused Joel, who was ensuring both girls got into the car. Perhaps he had underestimated the chaos of the apocalypse, but nothing was going well; the roads were cut off and traffic piled up. The closer they got into the city, the worse it got.

He swore they were doing fine, until suddenly the only thing he could hear and see was the impact. 

Fuck. They had been hit.

His head felt fuzzy; he couldn't think straight. He pulled himself up; his heart dropped slightly when he saw his girls. Y/N was peering over at something– someone.

 “Joel!” she shouted quickly at him. She sounded so scared. "Joel, please, Sarah,” she insisted. 

Joel was rather horrified to find that Sarah had an injured leg. He helped her up into his arms. He turned to Y/N quickly. 

“Are you okay, honey? Hurt?” 

She shook her head. “I think I'm fine,”

He nodded. “Okay, listen, stay close by; don't go anywhere.” 

She turned around to find Tommy offering out his hand, insisting that she shouldn't let go. The streets were chaos; Joel could hardly think straight; adrenaline was coursing through his veins, anxiety forming a pit in his stomach; they ran far, dodging the people, avoiding the fire. The world had really turned in an instant.

Despite that, things were okay for a second.

They were suddenly being chased; the things, the creatures were on their trail. Tommy quickly slammed the door behind them, trapping the infected on the other side.

“Get to the highway!” he yelled, ignoring Joel and Sarah's questions as he pushed an upset Y/N towards them.

“Go!” he yelled, “hurry!”. 

Joel took his girls and ran. He didn't make it very far; before he was stopped by a soldier, Joel tried desperately to get his message across, insisting they needed help for his daughters.  

"Joel,” he heard a whimper from behind him, the soldier pointing the gun towards them. 

Suddenly they were down, he lost eyes on his girls only hearing the bullet, before he could think, beg for his life from the unrelenting soldier, another gunshot rang out, this time taking the soldier down. 

“Oh no…” Joel's heart felt like it might tear out of his chest.

 He runs over to Sarah; he feels sick. The blood in the way she cries—nothing can fix the ache he feels. She dies; Sarah dies in his arms; he holds her close, pretending that he can feel her heartbeat against him, but he can’t; her blood seeps through onto his clothes and his hands; it stains his heart forever in a way that is indescribable. He can't think, he can't feel nothing moves around them as he holds her close; eventually he's brought out of his haze. 

Tommy speaks carefully at him, “Joel?” 

He shakes his head in response, unwilling to address him. Tommy persists, 

“Joel, where is she?” 

It angers Joel. “What?” he snaps, turning towards Tommy, who stands quickly. Suddenly,  his heart drops. Tommy looks frantically around; he disappears out of Joel's eyeline. Joel knows exactly what he is looking for and who he is looking for. He can’t even get an explanation out, his mouth unwilling to move, to stutter around the excuse that he had just seen her; he swore Y/N had just been behind him a second ago. 

But she wasn't. 

Tommy searches frantically and messily, screaming himself hoarse, yelling her name over and over again as if she might magically appear from around the corner, but she's nowhere to be found. Tommy's knees collapse from under him when he sees it; the bloody flannel lies abandoned on the ground. Tommy recognizes it instantly; he had brought it. He remembers exactly the intent behind his purchase; he had laughed to himself when he saw the opposing color flannels, the light purple and blue reminding him so badly of his two nieces he had purchased them on the spot. 

The light blue that had reminded so much of Y/N was now sitting a few feet away from him, stained dark red. He picks it up, his hands suddenly stained red by the fresh blood. He feels sick; he is sick. He throws up when he lifts the blanket close to him, unable to stomach the warmth it still holds. 

Tommy walks back towards Joel in a haze, both of them gone. In minutes— how had they let this happen? 

Joel flinches instinctively when he hears Tommy walking back towards him; he hasn't let up on Sarah, unable to move away as her skin grows cold under his touch. Tommy doesn't say anything; he doesn't step aside to reveal a scared but alive Y/N holding his hand. Instead, he drops down beside Joel, keeping his eyes downcast, unable to look at Sarah as he hands over the flannel silently. 

“Tommy what?” Joel asks in disbelief, “Where is she?” 

Tommy could only shake his head in response, 

"Tommy, what the fuck where is sh-” 

“Christ Joel, she's gone.” Tommy interrupted him angrily. He gestured to the flannel, “probably already fucking dead.” He finished his chest, heaving with anger. 

There is nothing to explain the feeling that rips through Joel's chest; his heart feels shredded and ripped up into so many pieces he may never be able to put them back together. 

“My girls, my babygirls,” Joel mutters under his breath, tears leaking down his cheeks. 

Tommy takes the Flannel back, placing it gently over Sarah. This is how she would've wanted it, he thinks; she would have wanted to be close to Y/N in some capacity. The lone flannel was the only thing they had left of her, and Sarah needed it more than they did.

Jackson had been good to Joel, or at least that’s what the people around him think. He sees it in Ellie. She seems happier and more free. They've been here long enough for her to start settling down and making friends; she has three hearty meals a day and is receiving some form of education. The people around him say that they see it in him as well. Maria comments lowly to them that he seems more relaxed, a benefit that he now gets along better with her (and all the other residents of Jackson). 

Tommy had teased that he had filled out slightly with all the food Jackson had to provide. He had tried to care, that he had put on weight, that he was getting older, but after everything he had suffered through, his brother's teasing had rolled right off his shoulders. It felt like a good thing anyway, being able to be happy, healthy, and safe. 

But something didn't feel right. There was an anxiety that had settled deep in Joel's chest; he was unable to shake the feeling that something bad was coming. He knew that it was just in his head, his life since the outbreak had been on the run; the new peacefulness that had come with Jackson was almost unnerving to him. Perhaps it was the domesticity of it all that had really gotten to him. Although he was happy, he had Ellie and his brother and everyone else that came along with that; his heart ached in a way he felt he could tell anyone about. 

All of this, the community, the events, and the seasons. It had been years since he had celebrated Christmas; in fact, he had been unable to celebrate it since he had lost his girls. Even in Jackson, when the opportunity opened up for decorations and presents, he had to turn it down. The thought of putting up a tree without Y/N or Sarah made him ill. They had both loved Christmas; Texas winters were unforgivingly cold, but they had always seemed warmer alongside his small family.

He's sick of thinking about her. Jackson had allowed Joel time to reflect; perhaps time really does heal all wounds. Time and being surrounded by people that care about him has allowed him to reflect; the once gaping wound that had been Sarah was now patched over. For the first time since her death, he felt he was able to celebrate what her life had been instead of beating himself up for the fact that it had ended. He started to see past his loss, slowly letting Ellie in; he had even been able to tell Ellie briefly about Sarah; they would have been friends. good friends, at least Joel thought so. 

Joel felt that he could finally love Sarah's memory in the way he had loved her. Fully and without guilt. He couldn't do the same with Y/N. Her memory was a gaping infected wound that nothing could seem to heal. He refused to talk about her. Of course Tommy knew; Maria had some sort of idea through Tommy, but he couldn't even stand for either of them to mention her name. He was sure Ellie knew; there was a photo of Y/N in his bedroom. She was younger than Ellie in the photo, and it was very clearly not Sarah, but she had never asked about it. The wound still felt so fresh; it felt like it was poked every time he thought of her. 

He knew it was the guilt; she would be by his side, a fully grown woman if he had been paying attention. Maybe she would have already been in Jackson when they arrived, having stayed by Tommy's side through the outbreak. But she wasn’t. They had turned their backs for a minute, and she was just gone. Probably killed, with no one to care for her or mourn her. She had probably been so scared, and no one was around to be there for her. Joel would give anything to have been able to hold her close and tell her everything would be okay, but it wasn't; nothing was okay.

“Joel?” 

He hums in response to Ellie; they're sitting eating dinner together. Dinners together have become fewer, and after between the longer they stay in Jackson. Ellie is busier than him; friends, love interests, and hobbies take up more and more of her time. Although he sometimes misses seeing her 24/7 as long as she is happy, he is. 

“What's up?” he asks as she darts her eyes around nervously. Almost as if she is hiding something from him. 

“Can I ask you something?” She sounds scared. 

“Of course, kiddo,” he answers, confused. Ellie has no reason to be scared of him anymore. 

“You promise you won’t get angry?” she insists again. 

He nodded, agreeing with her, “Yeah, I promise."

Ellie takes a deep breath before asking, “Did you, um, did you have another daughter?” She stutters out. 

Joel feels locked in place for a second; the question takes him so off guard his heart stops beating in his chest for a second. Ellie opens her mouth quickly to apologize, fearing that she has overstepped, but he shakes his head at her in response. He allows them to sit in silence for a moment, considering his next option before he speaks. 

“It's complicated,” he says; truthfully, he doesn't even know where to start.

Ellie is quick to try and smooth over any problems: “It's just something Tommy said—probably misheard him or something; it's silly, real-." Ellie spoke, but she was cut off by Joel, who unintentionally interrupted her. 

“She wasn't technically mine,” he said quietly, unable to look up from his dinner. 

"Huh?" ellie asked in confusion, 

“She was Sarah's best friend.” He clarified quickly, “They were inseparable, had been best friends for years; she spent every other night and all holidays at my house." He choked out; for the first time in 20 years he was talking about Y/N, and it was making his head spin.

“Is she the one in the photo?” Ellie asked, referring to the photo of the unnamed girl that had sat on Joel's dresser ever since they had settled in Jackson. 

He nodded in response, 

“Her name was Y/N.” He spoke her name for the first time in years; it felt heavy on his tongue. 

“Was?” Ellie asked, “Is she, um, well gone?” She was unwilling to say dead, worried that it might provoke a sensitive Joel. 

He remains quiet for a second before answering her lowly "probably." 

Ellie goes to ask more, confused by his vague answer, but he shakes his head, stopping her. “I think that's enough questions for tonight, kiddo,” he states firmly. She nods in response before turning back to her food. Ellie doesn't approach Joel about it again; she can tell that she has received all the information that he is willing to give and doesn't want to make him angry. 

She redirects her curiosity to Tommy; not straight after she waits to get him alone, they end up on patrol together. Technically, he isn't not actually patrolling; Joel is still very much unwilling to let Ellie do anything even slightly dangerous, but she scopes out the landscapes with Tommy occasionally shooting when he allows her. It gives her a sense of freedom, even if Joel is sitting back at the patrol tower waiting for them. 

“Tommy?” he looks up at her, quickly distracted from the gun in his lap. 

“What's up?” he asks with a small smile on his face. He doesn't often get to spend time with Ellie; she's a good patrol partner despite Joel's resistance. 

“Can I ask you about something?” She says carefully, and he stops walking for a second, eyeing her up suspiciously. She doesn't usually ask him things; he wonders if she is doing the same thing Sarah used to do when Joel told her no: turn to the next responsible adult in her life (him) and ask for the same thing until she got a yes.

"Listen, if Joels already said no, I'm not gonna say yes, ok?” He is quick to lay down the law. She cringes at that quickly recovering her face to look at him. 

“It's not that ok, I just want to ask you about someone,” she tells him. 

“Yeah, sure.” Tommy says his curiosity piqued. 

“Is Y/N alive?” Tommy's breath hitched, his heart speeding up at the name. 

“How do you know her?” He asks

“Joel told me.” She responds quickly, and he lets out a breath. If Joel had already spoken about it, it was fine. He tries to find the words before he speaks them, but he comes up short. 

“Alive? Well probably not,” he speaks, the truth that has been simmering in the back of his mind for years. 

“Did you see her die?” Ellie asks

“No.” Tommy shakes his head. “She went missing when Sarah was killed, disappeared into thin air, and only left behind some bloody clothes.” He explains, 

“You haven't seen her since?” Ellie asked, 

“No, probably fuckin’ dead anyway." Tommy dismisses in a way that is so reminiscent of his brother. Ellie doesn't pry anymore; she knows enough to satisfy her curiosity. She feels strangely closer to Joel with the new information, her heart a little softer for the old man. 

Things in Jackson remain uneventful; people come in seeking the warmth and comfort that Jackson provides; patrols come and go; people begin to prepare for Christmas. The decorations going up make Joel's heart ache like it does every year, but he survives. Things are fine. Ellie doesn't press anymore about his past, which he is grateful for. She opts to spend more time with him than she used to, which is strange, but he would always value her company. 

Maria spends less and less time going out on patrol these days; she has bigger problems in the community, and with the rate that Jackson is growing, she feels like she spends every other waking moment greeting people and assigning houses. It's nice to get out sometimes; technically she should be protecting Jackson, but the path she's on seems harmless. The logbook remained clear of any disturbances for months now; it's just Maria and the heavy snow that had fallen as a consequence of Jackson's cold winters. Everything is peaceful and calm, even until she hears a gunshot ring out. 

It comes from close by—a lodge that had been abandoned forever ago. It was useless to the people of Jackson and had long sat by itself rotting away into the mountain. She has to go investigate the sound. Who could be there? Perhaps it was another patrol in need of help. She arrives quickly. The building looks to be empty; there is no light coming from it, no obvious signs of life. Maria knows better than to let her guard down, holding her rifle close to her chest as she yells out, urging anyone to come forward, yell for help. No one responds; she hears feet move quickly from a room somewhere; following the sound, she turns into a room; she walks in slowly; the person is backed into a corner, unable to escape. 

Maria steps closer, her view of the person's face skewed by a cloth wrapped around their lower face.

“Drop your weapon,” Maria orders quickly; they don't drop their weapon, instead bring it closer to them with a shaking hand. 

“Please,” they plead quickly. 

Maria falters for a second, the woman's voice taking her by surprise. 

“Please, I'm sorry for running; just leave me alone.” The woman all but begs; she doesn't sound dangerous; she sounds scared. Maria slowly lowers her gun, walking closer carefully.

“I won't hurt you,” she quickly promises to the younger woman. “Are you infected?” 

The woman shakes her head in response.

 “I’m not, I swear,” the woman says. 

“Are you alone?” Maria asks cautiously; she hadn't heard or seen anyone else in the desolate building, but she couldn't be too sure; she only receives a nod in response. 

“I’m Maria,” she offers quickly. She raises her eyebrows as an indication for the other woman to give her name. 

Maria watches as the younger woman pulls the fabric of her lower face; she speaks clearer without the fabric blocking her. 

“Y/N.” 

Oh, Maria pauses; she hadn't heard that name in a while, not since Tommy had retold Ellie’s prodding of his lost pseudo niece. The thought flashes through her mind quickly; there was no way. Tommy had swore she had died. What were the chances? Probably very little. She doesn't let the thought linger, moving to be face-to-face with the woman. 

"Listen, I'm from a commune; come back with me,” Maria offers.

Y/N stares back at her almost as if she was insulted by Maria's suggestion, 

“Why?” Y/N asks,

“Well, you're all alone out here." Maria states honestly, it wasn't exactly like this Y/N girl had anything else going for her. 

“Are you going to kill me?” Y/N asks, and Maria laughs gently. 

“If I had wanted you dead, I would've done it five minutes ago,” she says humorously. 

Y/N smiles gently at her, picking up her bag from beside her walking out after Maria. Maria helps Y/N up first onto the horse; she seems awkward getting up there. Maria watches curiously as she places a hand under her stomach, using the other arm and Maria's help to haul herself onto the horse.

Was she? Maria had found her alone, but maybe she hadn’t always been; maybe that's why she had been so scared that Maria was going to kill her. Her suspicions are all but confirmed when she instructs Y/N to hold on tight to her as they ride. Maria can feel it poking into her back. 

A baby bump. 

“Are you p-” Maria goes to ask, but she is interrupted quickly. 

“Yeah,” Y/N responds. 

Maria isn't quite sure what to make of her tone of voice; she sounds upset, almost. 

“How far along are you?” Maria asks gently.

she feels a shrug from behind her.

“A few months, hard to say really.” Y/N responds; 

Maria nods, “I’ll have you checked out with the doctor later.” She offers,

“That would be nice." Y/N responds, pulling her arms a bit tighter around Maria. 

They get into Jackson after dark; the town deserted as everyone stays home, keeping out the cold. There are a few people around doing odd jobs. Maria helps Y/N down off the horse she turns to one of them men who had been standing guard right inside the wall, “she's safe” she starts. Bringing strangers into Jackson wasn't exactly a normal thing; they were usually brought to Maria after being found. 

"Listen, I need you to get Tommy; tell him to meet me outside of the hall in ten,” the man moves off with a 'yes, ma’am,' while Maria turns towards Y/N.

"You wanna eat something?” She asks Y/N and nods, “Yeah, me too." Maria exhales.

They eat together in silence. Y/N sheds her winter coat to reveal a medium-sized baby bump. Maria isn't an expert, but she would estimate around the 5-month mark. Their eating is interrupted when the doors to the other empty hall are opened. Maria quickly gets out of her chair, promising to be back soon. 

Tommy looks confused as Maria pushed him away from the main hall; he had seen she was eating with someone, but Maria had quickly ushered him away. She exhaled before speaking,

"Tommy.” He nodded. “You have to listen to me, ok?”

He nodded again, confused by her tone of voice. Had he done something wrong? Was she angry with him? 

“Is everything okay?” he asked curiously. She nodded at him. 

“Listen,” she started. “I need you to help me identify the girl in there.” She spoke seriously. 

Tommy was confused. No one had ever asked him to identify anyone before. Who was this girl? Why did he have to identify her? 

“Who is she?” he asked. Maria gently placed her hands on his shoulders. 

“You need to be calm about this, okay?” she asked. 

He felt his heart rate pick up at the insinuation. 

“What?” He asked, confused again. 

Maria started hesitantly, “I think.” 

He encouraged her to keep speaking with a nod, 

“I think she’s Joel's daughter.” 

His breath hitched; he knew exactly who she was talking about; there was no way. Y/N was here? 

“I can't be sure, ok, same name, similar ages, but I didn't know her; you did,” 

He stared at Maria for a moment, unsure what to say. Suddenly an surge of energy overtook him; she had lived, Y/N was alive and well, and she had been sitting eating dinner with his wife. 

“Okay!” he said a little louder than he had intended, adrenaline in his veins making him energetic. 

Maria grabbed his arm before he could walk into the hall.

“Tommy, you can't just go in there guns ablazing okay?” Maria warned him, 

“What? I want to see her!” he insisted  Maria sighed,

“I know you do; it's just that." She started but didn't finish her sentence, 

“What, what is it?” He asked urgently, 

"Tommy, she's pregnant.”

He felt his heart stop; she was pregnant. She couldn't be. His heart ached with the fact of her age. How could she be old enough to be a mother herself? He choked on the revelation for a second. 

“She's a little fragile, okay. She's been on her own for a while. I don't want to scare her.” 

He let a breath out slowly before nodding.

“Just identify her, and we can go from there,” she promised him.

He followed behind her closely. She was the only one in the hall, and due to the late hour, Y/N picked at her food slowly, almost as if she was savoring every bite, scared that it might be the last meal she ate. The thought made his heart clench. They approached slowly; he trailed behind Maria, and as soon as he got close enough to see her face, he knew it was her. It felt like there was a shift in the air; he could feel it in the pit of his stomach. 

Being so close to Y/N made him feel weak. He had sworn for so long that she was dead, mourned the loss of one of the most precious people in his life, and here she was sitting in front of him, oblivious to his inner turmoil, oblivious to him standing behind Maria. Maria cleared her throat. 

“Y/N?” she asked, catching the woman's full attention. 

She looked up from her food, nodding at Maria in lieu of a response. 

“There's someone you need to meet, ok?” She looked hesitantly at Maria, suddenly aware that they weren't alone in the room. 

Before he could even comprehend the worry on her face, he stepped out fully into Y/N's view. The room stood still for a second; he panicked in turn at Y/N's silence; had she forgotten him? The thought made his heart clench. 

“Tommy?” A voice broke him through his haze; it sounded so small, almost like she was 13 again. 

He stepped closer to Y/N 

"Tommy, is it really you?” she asked hesitantly, almost like she didn't want to know the answer. 

He nodded as Y/N stood up. He could barely open his arms quick enough before she was hugging him. His arms were tightly around her shoulders. It was all suddenly so real. Y/N had lived. She was here right now in his arms. He pulled back slightly, placing his hands on her shoulders. His eyes brimmed with tears as he surveyed her face; she was so grown up. 

"Christ, honey,” he breathed, “so gorgeous and grown up.” 

Y/N smiled at him bashfully, re-lopping her hands around his neck to pull him close once again. 

“I missed you, Tommy,” she admitted quietly, 

"yeah, I missed you too, more than you know."

He watched as she finished her food, raising an eyebrow at her when she left some of it on her plate, insisting she was full; she wasn't. 

“Tommy?” she asked in between mouthfuls. 

“What's up?” he responded. 

He was willing to tell her just about anything to hear her voice again. 

“Is um-?” She started sounding unsure. “Is Joel alive?” she asked barely above a whisper. 

Tommy smiled again, even wider than he had been; Joel was alive; in fact, he was here, in Jackson, to stay. He moved his chair next to hers, putting an arm around her shoulder. 

“Yeah, he is alive,” he said, smirking lightly. She seemed to exhale at this. 

“In fact, honey, he's here.” Her eyes met his for a second, almost as if she thought he might be lying to her. 

“He's here?” She asked, “In this place?” 

"Jackson,” he supplied for her quickly. 

“In Jackson?” she asked again. 

“Yes, he is. I promise you.” Tommy said seriously. 

Y/N looked at him hopefully. 

“Can I see him?” she asked. 

Tommy glanced at the clock in the big hall before shaking his head.

“It's late; the old man will already be sleeping,” Tommy joked. 

It brought a small smile to her face. 

“How about this?” Tommy started, “You can sleep in my spare bedroom tonight; I'll take you to see him first thing in the morning.” he offered.  

She smiled widely at him, pushing up and out of her chair, a hand delicately under her belly. 

“Maria mentioned something about warm water?” Y/N asked, 

“Yeah, we got that. Take a warm shower before bed if you want.” Tommy spoke. 

Y/N seemed to light up at the prospect of that, gladly placing her hand in the crook of his elbow as they walked together towards his house. 

Tommy wakes up early the next morning. He gently peeks in through the door of his guest bedroom, a breath of relief coming from him as he sees a sleeping Y/N. He had woken up panting lightly pulled from his sleep by fear that it had all been a dream, but it wasn't. Y/N was here sleeping peacefully in the room next to his and Maria's bedroom. 

Tommy was not typically an early riser—not that he had much choice since the world had ended, but it wasn't exactly his calling. He was more like Sarah in that respect; he can recall getting up several hours into Saturday mornings to find that she was still sleeping. Y/N had been the opposite of Sarah, a naturally early riser, who Tommy would often find talking to Joel over a hot chocolate (or in Joel's case, a coffee) on said mornings. They would tease him gently about how they “had been up for hours” before everyone argued about who had the chore of waking Sarah up (they almost always sent Y/N; she was definitely Sarah's favourite amongst the three of them; they always came downstairs together giggling about something a far departure from her usual morning attitude). 

He knows that Joel will be up already; Jackson is waking up slowly; people making their way out of their warm houses, and Joel is no exception. He had always been the early riser out of the brothers; Joel had spent every morning she was there chatting to Y/N in the kitchen as they prepared for the day before anyone else is up. 

Tommy takes a deep breath before knocking; he had tried to plan out what he was going to say. Trying to tell your older brother that his (not technically) daughter that he spent years mourning was actually alive—in fact, she was asleep right now in Tommy's spare bedroom—was far harder than he had anticipated. 

He knocks lightly, unwilling to disturb the otherwise peaceful neighbourhood. It doesn't take long for Joel to answer; he looks unsurprised to see Tommy standing there, inviting him in quickly to sit at the dining table. Tommy isn't sure where to start when Joel asks him what's up, 

"Joel.” He starts seriously, “There is something I need to tell you." 

Joel lets a look of confusion wash over his face. 

“What?” he asks Tommy bluntly. 

Tommy suddenly understood why Maria had been acting so strange yesterday; this was a hard conversation. 

"Joel,” he tried again. "Y/N,” Tommy started, but his sentence was interrupted quickly by Joel. 

“Don’t even start Tommy,” he stated angrily. 

Joel didn't want to ever have to tell anyone about his failing towards the once-young girl; after telling Ellie, it had been too much. Tommy shook his head, effectively silencing an angry-looking Joel. 

“Y/N is alive,” Tommy said firmly. 

Joel quickly turned to disbelief, blinking at Tommy as if this were some cruel joke. 

“Look, Maria found her yesterday a while out; brought her back last night." Tommy continued on, 

"Is it  really her?” Joel asked in disbelief, 

“Yeah, I saw her last night. God, Joel, she was so grown up, I couldn't believe it.” Tommy rambled, 

“Can I see her? Now?” Joel asked quickly. 

Tommy frowned at Joel, not wanting to break his bubble the way Maria had to him last night. 

“Not yet ok?” Tommy spoke carefully. “Maria is taking her to see the doctor, then you can,” he explained. 

Tommy watched the flash on panic crossover Joel's face answering Joel's question before he could even ask it.

“She's fine, not hurt or anything, I mean." Tommy assured me he hesitated before speaking again. “But there is one thing." 

"What?” Joel asked snappily,

“She's pregnant.” Tommy offered. 

Joel couldn't think for a moment, his heart clenching in his chest. 

“Really?” 

Tommy only nodded in response.

 “My baby girl, having a baby?” he spoke aloud. 

The words rang in his ears, when had she gotten so old? Joel swore that she was still the young teenage girl he could remember her being. 

“I'll bring her over to yours when she's done, okay?” Tommy told Joel, gently patting his older brother's shoulders as he stood to leave.

Joel nodded in response, unsure of what to say; he had had too many revelations for one day, and it was making his head spin. 

He couldn't think after that and sat at his dining table staring at the abandoned cold cup of coffee; if he stared at it for long enough, he could see her face; perhaps he was really losing it seeing a thirteen-year-old Y/N in his cold cup of coffee.

A knock at the door pulls him violently out of his own head. He knocks over the cold cup of coffee, swearing as it begins to drip off the side of the table. 

“One sec!” he yells out, continuing to swear under his breath as he quickly cleans it up.

His hands shake lightly as he throws the dirty cloth into the sink. He takes a deep breath, unaffectedly trying to steady himself. He opens the door slowly and is greeted with the sight of Tommy smiling at him as he steps closer to Joel.

“I'm gonna leave y’all to it, okay?” 

Joel nods before Tommy steps back, revealing a nervous-looking Y/N behind him. 

Joel can't even process it unmoving as he takes her in fully; she had grown. Of course she had, but it still made his heart ache. Before he can even think about the wetness occurring on his eyeline as he pulls her close, he grips her so tight, gripping the back of her head against his chest.

“Joel” Y/N whimpers, looking up at him with wet eyes. 

Joel wanted to say so many things—to apologize for the time he had lost together, to say sorry for losing her—but he couldn't. He pulled back slightly, encompassing her face with his hands. She leaned into him, nuzzling her cheek into his palm.

 “I know, baby, I know,” he promised. 

“I missed you, Joel, so much." Y/N said quietly, resting her head on Joel's chest. 

He wondered if she could feel it clench beneath his skin at her words. 

“I missed you more than you'll ever know, sweetie,” he spoke gently to her, “and I promise, I swear that you'll never be alone again, baby girl; I'll always be here for you." Joel spoke softly; 

He felt Y/N pull him impossibly closer at his words. 

“I love you, babygirl,” he whispered to her, “my baby girl.”.

[togrowoldinv]

Meet Me At Midnight

College!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

You invite Wanda to spend the holidays with you. Will your true feelings for each other be revealed?

Note: I can’t believe it’s almost new years. Enjoy this Wanda fic!

Wanda Maximoff Masterlist, Main Masterlist

You’ve casually known Wanda Maximoff for a few months now. You met her in your literature lecture. The girl seemed mysterious, but not in an off-putting way.

Wanda was assigned to be your project partner for the semester. Like typical college students, you two exchanged numbers that first day but didn’t think about working on the project until late in the semester.

She sent you a text a few weeks ago and the two of you began working on the final project. Upon working with her, you realized just how amazing she is. Her and her brother moved to America for college, that explains her enchanting accent.

By the end of the semester, you completed the project and presented it to your class. Wanda suggested celebrating your successful work with dinner. You agreed, and the two of you went out for dinner and drinks that night.

Somehow, the holidays were brought up, and Wanda told you she was not able to go home to celebrate. You asked her to come with you to your family Christmas. She was so excited to see a true American Christmas, and to not be alone.

It went by quickly. Your family took Wanda in and made her feel at home. The girl loved it so much that she decided to stay for the New Year’s celebrations as well. You take her to the grocery store with you to get last minute needs for the holiday.

“Wanda, do you want red or white wine for tonight?” You ask her.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Wanda says. She leans over you and places her chin on your shoulder. You like how affectionate she is with you. “Whatever you like best.”

“Come on, Max, you gotta pick some food and drinks out too, or my mom will be mad at me,” you tell her.

“Fineee,” she says cutely. “White. And can we get some of those chips I liked the other day?”

“Doritos?” You clarify.

“Yes, them!” Wanda says.

“We can get every flavor.”

Wanda smiles and you put the white wine in the cart before moving to the chip aisle. You stay true to your word and get every flavor of Doritos, even the taco ones. Wanda also picks out some candy and other snacks.

You buy decorations for New Years so that you can go all out for Wanda. You don’t typically go this big, but you want her first real celebration to be a special one. Streamers, hats, glasses with the year on them, and all of your dishware needs are in your cart by the time you leave the store.

Wanda is buzzing with excitement when you arrive home and begin to decorate. Your family helps make the food while you decorate with the girl. You stand on a chair and hang streamers from the ceiling.

“Wouldn’t this have been easier if I got up there?” Wanda asks. “I am taller.”

“No, I got this,” you say, but just as you do you lose your balance on the chair from standing on your tippy toes.

You begin to fall backwards but Wanda’s hands on your hips stop you. She helps you stand upright again.

“Are you okay?” She asks.

“Yeah, thank you,” you reply. Her hands remain on your hips, and she pats them softly, a silent gesture for you to get down from the chair.

“Let me finish for you,” Wanda says. She steps up in the chair.

You can’t help but watch as her sweater rises up as she hangs the decorations. Her perfect frame is distracting. You almost don’t hear her when she asks for a hand to help her down. Her soft hand rests in yours even after she is back on the ground.

“This looks amazing,” Wanda says.

“It really does,” you agree.

The two of you get swept away by your mother to help prepare food for the party. Time flies by and soon the guests begin to arrive. It’s mostly family friends, but a few of your friends from college are here too.

Wanda enjoys meeting everyone and hearing stories about you. You try to keep her away from your gossiping mother’s friends but it’s no use. They reel her in and tell her all about your child and teenage years.

“She seems great,” a voice interrupts your gaze on Wanda.

“Natasha, so good to see you!” You tell the woman.

“You too, y/n,” Nat says. She hugs you. “Is she your girlfriend?”

“Oh no,” you reply. “Just a friend from college.”

“Sure,” Nat says. “That’s why she’s staring daggers through me.”

“What?” You turn to see Wanda is staring at you and Natasha. There’s a look on her face that isn’t quite readable, but you can tell she’s unhappy.

You decide to walk to Wanda and steal her away from the gossipers.

“Hey, there’s some more people I’d like for you to meet,” you tell her. She nods and follows you back to where Nat is standing. “This is Natasha.”

“Nice to meet you,” Natasha speaks to Wanda.

“You too,” Wanda replies a bit grumpily.

Another woman walks up behind Nat and wraps her arms around her. Wanda looks at you confusedly.

“And just in time Maria shows up,” you joke.

“I’ve been here,” she replies. “Just got a little distracted by the fondue.”

“Why does that not surprise me?” Nat asks.

“Maria, this is Wanda,” you say.

“Great to meet you, Wanda,” Maria says. “You’ve got a good one here.”

“Oh, it’s not-” you begin but Wanda interrupts you.

“Thank you,” she says, placing her hand in yours.

Nat and Maria get pulled away, leaving you and Wanda standing there together. She still has her hand in yours.

“Are you alright?” You ask Wanda.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She drops your hand.

“Okay. Let’s just go get a drink,” you suggest.

For the rest of the night, Wanda seems to have shaken off her weird jealousy of you and Natasha. Or really you and anyone that’s not her. But when it’s five minutes until midnight you can’t find her anywhere.

“Wanda?” You call up the stairs, thinking maybe she went to your room. You get no response but go upstairs anyways.

She is sitting on your bed when you arrive. Four minutes until midnight.

“Hey, what are you doing up here? The ball is about to drop,” you say.

“I just needed a minute,” she says.

“Right, okay. I’m sorry. I know that my family and friends can be a lot.”

“It’s not that,” she says. “Well it is, but it’s not.”

You close the door behind you and sit next to Wanda on your bed.

“You’re missing home?” You ask.

“I always miss home,” Wanda replies. “But being with you here has felt kind of like home.”

“I’m so glad,” you say. You glance at your watch. Three minutes until midnight. “What’s bothering you then?”

“Do you like me?” Wanda blurts out unexpectedly.

“What? Of course I like you, Wanda,” you say.

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “Do you like me like me?”

“Oh.”

“Because well, I like you,” Wanda says. “And what’s bothering me is that everyone else seems to really like you too.”

“What like Nat?” You ask. She nods. “That never happened, Wanda. We’re friends.”

“But you’re attracted to her.”

“Well, you have eyes,” you try to joke, but Wanda doesn’t smile. “She is a friend.”

“And so am I,” Wanda says with a frown on her perfect lips.

“Yeah, but if you want to be more than friends then we could try?”

“Really?” Wanda asks.

“Really,” you say. “You’re so beautiful, Wanda. And so smart, cool, funny, and passionate.”

Wanda smiles the most perfect smile you’ve ever seen. You hold her cheek in your hand and brush her hair back with the other. She leans in closer.

“Wait,” you whisper. You hold up your watch. “Count with me. Ten, nine, eight…”

You count all the way down to one and Wanda kisses you as soon as she can. She practically straddles your lap as she deepens the kiss. It’s everything.

“Wanda,” you say softly, pulling away to breathe. “We need to go celebrate with everyone.”

“But I want to kiss you,” Wanda pouts.

You kiss her pouty lips and almost lose your will to stop.

“We can do this all we want later,” you tell her. “Right now it’s time to celebrate the new year with everyone. What do you say?”

“You promise we’ll do this again?” She asks.

“And again. And again. And again,” you reply, leaving a kiss to each of her cheeks and her forehead with your words.

Wanda smiles and lets you take her hand. You two walk downstairs together and spend the rest of the night celebrating New Years. It’s the best beginning to a year either of you have ever had.

You hope for many many more with Wanda by your side.