#ITS CHRISTMAS EVE HERES A LITTLE PRESENT
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Fashion designer Steve, who accepts a contract to have Rockstar Eddie Munson wear his designs in the latest addition of vogue, but the thing is, he hates Eddie. Hates his cocky smile, his music, the way he called Steve 'doll' the first time they met at some celebrity's birthday party made his skin crawl. But Steve isn't stupid. Eddie's hot, popular and Steve's latest line would look amazing on him. This is the only reason he accepts the deal. If people saw Eddie wearing his designs, they would buy them. Plain and simple.
Steve spends all morning before the shoot dreading having to deal with loud, obnoxious Eddie Munson. He chain smokes on the roof of his studio and tries to remind himself of all the pros of this shoot, of how influential Eddie is. The cons are way longer than the pros.
It's barely past 8am when the studio doors open and in walks the cause of his current headache, but there's something different about this man nervously walking into his studio to the one he's so used to seeing and avoiding at parties. There's no dramatic entrance, no tight leather pants and way too much eye-liner. There's just this... guy. He's in fucking sweatpants and what looks like a pyjama shirt that's been worn way too much, and his hair is tied up in a loose bun that shows off all the earrings he isn't wearing.
"Hi, I'm Eddie." He sticks out his hand politely for a hand shake and Steve is so shocked. He may have squeezed his hand a bit too tightly. "I'm super excited for the shoot! I love your designs." He's smiling at Steve but it's soft, genuine, gentle. It lacks the severity, the cockiness of the smiles he's seen before.
"Uh, thanks." Steve says dumbly and just walks away to the rack of clothes he has picked out for Eddie. "It's just me and you today. Is that okay with you? I work better when it's just me and the model." Steve takes all of his own photos, makes all his designs, does all the make-up and set design. In this industry, he's learned that if you want something done right, you need to do it yourself.
When Steve turns back around, Eddie is standing in the middle of the studio, awkwardly twisting the fabric of his shirt while rocking back onto the balls of his feet. "Yep, that's cool. It's totally cool. Cool as." His cheeks are bright red and he keeps looking around the empty studio, looking anywhere but at Steve.
"Are you nervous?" Steve asks. Nervous and Eddie Munson don't seem like two things that go together in Steve's mind. He's seen Eddie walk out onto a stage in front of thousands of people and thrust against a microphone while singing about sex. But doing a shoot alone with Steve makes him nervous?
"Yeah, you could say I'm a little nervous." He chuckles awkwardly and twirls a loose strand of hair that has fallen from the bun. "I've kind of always wanted to do a shoot with you and I'm terrified I'm going to fuck it up."
That's.. not what Steve was expecting.
"Oh." He says simply, not quite sure what to say to something like that.
"Did I just fuck it up?" Eddie drops the piece of hair and the absolute horror on his face causes Steve to smile.
He shakes his head and hands Eddie an armful of clothes. "Go get changed, pretty boy. You haven't fucked up, if anything you've just secured a permanent spot on my roster." He looks Eddie up and down once. "I like this version of you."
Eddie laughs. "You like my pyjamas?"
"No, you. You seem more real, less, no offence, douchey."
Eddie shrugs and nods in agreement, a few more strands of brown curls fall free. Steve will have to fix that. He wants Eddie's hair up for the shoot. He wants to be able to see every facial expression when Steve tells him how good he is. At posing, that is.
"Being a regular dude isn't what sells albums, unfortunately. So, I've gotta play the part. I've gotta sell sex and make myself seem otherworldly, untouchable, so that people will want me, want my music." He says this with a shrug, acts like it's just a casual thing to say. Steve can see that it's more than that though, can see how much Eddie dislikes having to play pretend to get people to like him.
He nods over to the small dressing room. "You don't have to be anyone else today. I just want Eddie. Only wear what you're comfortable in. I'll order us some breakfast, yeah?" He tries to make Eddie feel comfortable, tries to release some of the tension that had settled in the air by being friendly, a lot friendlier than he normally is with celebrity models. He usually tries to keep a distance from them.
"Pizza?" Eddie asks hopefully.
Steve scrunches up his nose and raises an eyebrow in question. "For breakfast? Really?" That didn't surprise him at all. Eddie's a rockstar. He's probably never had a balanced meal in his life.
Steve ignores the little voice in his head that whispers I could cook for him, make sure he's eating well and looking after himself.
"Yes, really. Extra anchovies, please."
"I've changed my mind. You've fucked it up. Go home."
Steve hears Eddie cackle as he slams the dressing room door shut and it's a surprisingly nice sound. Not as grating and obnoxious as the fake laugh he'd been subjected to at a party last year, it's a warm, almost melodic sound and it makes Steve's lips twitch into a smile.
Maybe this shoot won't be as torturous as he'd thought it would be.
#ITS CHRISTMAS EVE HERES A LITTLE PRESENT#steddie#eddie munson#stranger things#stranger things s4#steve harrington#silly goofy rockstar eddie#steveddie
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listening to some christmas songs trying not to think of the fact that this will be my first Christmas not w my family
#personal shizz#i dont even really miss my family that much#if im being real honest#prob cause w the pandemic i was around them for .. so long#n i talk to them around once a week via phone call anyway#but its the nostalgia .. the little christmas traditions we do christmas eve n stuff#the comfort of sitting in the dark living room right before bed#the tv playing the ending of a christmas story#sitting in the new pjs my mom always gets me as a christmas eve present#honestly its mostly the comfort of christmas eve that im missing rather than christmas itself#now that i think about it 😅#anyway just feeling a little off i guess#at least i wont be alone christmas eve / christmas#thankfully my friend invited me to join her n others in a sleepover at her house :')#but for tonight .. ill be sitting here
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A Christmas Special
summary: after Christmas Eve at Remus' flat, thick snowfall prevents you from going home. He's more than happy to host you
cw: mentions of alcohol, smut mdni, p in v, oral (fem receiving), praise, inexperienced reader, shy little idiots in love
Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 11k words
Remus isn’t sure entirely how he’d gotten strongarmed into hosting Christmas Eve at his flat. James and Lily usually host, but James claimed that this year their house was in too much a state of “baby mayhem” to have any hope of being tidied enough for a gathering. He’s said it in such a lovesick voice Remus couldn’t push back for long, his friend’s happiness so potent it was like looking into the sun. Sirius had begged off quickly, saying that his “bachelor pad” was too small to have a group over. As usual, when Remus spoke last, the matter was settled before he’d gotten the chance to have much of a say.
He’s made an effort to live up to the hosting legacy passed onto him by the Potters, but it’s a flimsy attempt at best. Thankfully, the snowfall outside is doing a fair amount of the work for him. Remus’ street is coated in fresh, gleaming powder, enough that the trees look weighted down with it and his neighbor had put her little dog in a knit sweater to go into the yard and do its business. It’s still coming down, the snowflakes visible in crisp contrast against the darkening sky as they drift lazily to the earth.
Inside Remus’ home, the Christmas tree is nearly covered in tinsel to make up for his scant supply of ornaments, he’s run out of stockings to put up above the fireplace and has had to use one large sock (that one will have to be for Sirius), and he’s still stringing up popcorn when a knock sounds on the door.
Remus is surprised (he’d told everyone to come at six, but that was only because he didn’t think anyone would actually show up until a couple hours after), but that dies away when he unbolts the door and opens it to find you on the other side.
“Hi,” you say, teeth nearly chattering as Remus ushers you inside. “Sorry I’m late, traffic was worse than I expected.”
“It’s hardly fifteen after six.” Remus takes your coat, tsking. “People do seem to become worse drivers around the holidays, don’t they?”
“Well, I suppose not everyone on the road tonight might be used to driving in the snow,” you allow, ever forgiving.
Remus smiles. “Merry Christmas, love.”
Your face is already flushed from the chill outside, but he could swear it goes pinker as you unwrap your scarf, smiling back at him. “Merry Christmas.” You’re merry as can be, cheeks dimpling and eyes sparkling under the twinkling lights Remus is suddenly very glad he decided to purchase for the occasion. “Where is everyone?”
“Well,” Remus says, heading back for the couch, “Sirius is hitching a ride with James and Lily, so if I had to guess I’d wager that James is just putting the finishing touches whatever food he’s decided to bring while Lily tries to rush him out the door. And then they’ll go to Sirius’ place and have to wait for him to finish wrapping the presents he undoubtedly just remembered today.”
You sit beside him with a half-exasperated laugh. “I was thinking I’d be the last one here,” you admit, “but I’d forgotten how they can be when it comes to events.”
Remus shrugs. “Easy to forget.” Lily is usually able to marshal James and Sirius most places on time these days, but the frenzy when they actually have things to prepare is inevitable; Remus has learnt to account for it. He reclaims his half-finished string of popcorn, clumsily stabbing the needle into another kernel and wincing when it goes through easier than expected, pricking his finger.
“Oh no, did you hurt yourself?” you lean over, trying to see his hand.
“No, just a scratch.” Remus has about a billion of them by now. He’s far from coordinated on a good day, but the unwise decision to have coffee earlier has resulted in shaky hands that make working with a needle somewhat hazardous.
You watch him try again, and it’s really the distraction of your cute frown more than anything else that messes him up. His needle goes through the fluffy edge of the popcorn, stabbing him and giving the string hardly anything to hold onto in the process. The flake falls to his lap for his efforts.
“Remus, your hand’s not a pincushion,” you say, and you weren’t yourself he’d almost think you were chiding him. You reach over, taking the needle and thread from him. “Here, let me do that.”
“I didn’t mean for you to come here early so I could put you to work,” Remus protests, watching as you string up the next piece of popcorn with nimble fingers. Jealousy wars with admiration, but his esteem for you wins out. “You’ll never come back for New Year’s if this is what you have to look forward to.”
You smile down at your hands. “Sure I will. You’ll still be there, won’t you? And I really don’t mind helping, it gives me something to do.”
Remus smiles back even though you’re not looking. “Alright, well I guess that means I can start rolling out the gingerbread dough. Thanks, love.” He touches his hand lightly to the crown of your head as he stands, letting the urge to press a kiss there pass as quickly as it arises. He goes into the kitchen and a second later you decide to follow. Popcorn swishes against the floor behind you as you make your way over to the bar counter, sitting on a stool with the string trailing all the way back to the couch.
“You’re making gingerbread cookies?” you ask, watching with eager eyes as he plops the dough onto the floured counter, rolling it flat.
“Mhm. You like them?”
“Never had one.”
Remus feels his eyebrows inch upwards. “Seriously?”
You look almost sheepish, as though this is a crime which you expect to be held against you. Honestly, you’re not far off; had James been here, you would have been questioned and scolded to hell and back, and then he would’ve made Remus give you some dough to try, salmonella be damned.
“No,” you answer him. “We made ornaments of them in school, once, but we weren’t allowed to eat them. I always thought they were so cute, though, with the little people cutouts.”
“They’re the best,” Remus agrees, pressing out the shapes and laying them on the baking sheet. “If you finish that quickly enough, I might even let you help me cut out a few.”
“Yes!” you cheer, and he laughs as you start working quicker with the needle.
“Don’t hurt yourself. The privilege of cookie cutting is not actually contingent on your labor.”
“I know,” you say, but your hands don’t slow. Remus has barely finished filling his second baking sheet before you’re done, having made more progress in the last twenty minutes than he had over nearly an hour.
Remus’ hip touches yours as he shows you how to give the cookie cutters a little shake in the dough, freeing the shape before lifting it and placing it on the sheet. It’s not a painfully difficult task, and still he’s impressed by how quickly you catch on. You’re a machine of efficiency. You seem to enjoy rolling out the dough almost as much as pressing out the shapes, falling into a quick, happy rhythm. Before long you’ve pushed Remus out of the way (Lily would be proud, he thinks), urging him to go and hang up the popcorn garland before everyone else arrives.
You haven’t seen each other in over a month, both of you caught up in the hustle and bustle of the season, and you catch up as you work on your separate tasks. Remus talks to you about his job, the students who plague him and the ones he wishes he could take home after work each day, and how none of them had liked the film he’d put on the day before break. (“Mister Magoo’s is a classic!” you protest as Remus shakes his head. “They’re too young to get it,” he says. “Our classics are just old to them.”) You tell him about your new cat, and the sweater you’d crocheted her for the holiday which she despises above all else, and he promises to come over sometime soon to meet her.
You’ve poured yourselves spiked eggnog and sampled a few ginger cookies (“They’re twice as good when they’re fresh,” Remus says. “Don’t let the others’ tardiness rob you of the experience.”) by the time the door bursts open again, Sirius of course not bothering to knock.
“Hello!” he calls from somewhere behind a tower of presents. “Merry holiday to you, Moony!”
You get up to help, and so Remus is compelled to do so as well, taking a couple sloppily-wrapped boxes from Sirius’ arms.
“Merlin, it smells good in here,” James declares as he comes through the door, Lily carrying a beaming baby Harry on her hip behind him. James’ eyes fall on you. “Aw, you beat us here?”
Remus scoffs, setting down the gifts by the tree and leaving you to arrange them as you see fit. “Not a very difficult task, when you’re over an hour late,” he says. “You’re lucky Y/N’s good company, or I’d be more cross with you.”
“Sorry,” Lily says as Sirius makes a dismissive sound, flopping onto the couch. “We had some trouble fitting everything in the car with Harry’s seat, and then Sirius—” she shoots him a glare, and he grins like she’s sweetly cooed his name “—wouldn’t leave without his hat, even though he’d lost it.”
“One only gets to wear one’s elf hat every so often,” Sirius justifies, unperturbed. “I wasn’t going to miss the occasion even if it took me all night to find it.”
“It nearly did,” Lily shoots back, but then James is at her side, having discarded his load of food and presents and now vying to hold Harry.
“Come here, my handsome little guy.”
“Used to call me that,” Sirius quips with his mouth full of gingerbread cookies, a heaping plate seeming to have found its way into his lap.
Remus isn’t going to smile at that poor attempt at a joke, but once you laugh he can’t help it.
“Only on special occasions,” James replies, taking Harry under the arms and hoisting him into the air. Harry laughs, and it’s probably the most contagious thing Remus has ever heard. Everyone smiles; James most of all, grinning ear to ear as he does it again.
“He never lets me hold him,” Lily complains fondly.
“Because I know how much you like seeing me with him,” James says breezily, making a face at Harry above him. “You’re mad with lust right now, Evans, don’t try to deny it.”
“Sleaze,” Sirius says to him, the bell on his hat jingling when he tilts his head.
“I know you are, but what am I?”
“I,” Remus says, “am hungry. And I’ll bet Y/N is too, since she’s very politely refrained from snacking much while we waited for you lot.”
James' attention actually leaves his son for half a second to look at you and see if what Remus says is true, and you go instantly bashful. It doesn’t seem to matter how long you’re friends with them; having attention drawn to you will always bring some color to your cheeks. Lily comes to your rescue, ushering you into the kitchen like she needs somewhere to channel her mother hen urges while James is monopolizing Harry.
“I hope you really are hungry,” she says, “because James has made enough bhaji to feed us all for a month.”
❆ ❆ ❆
Soon even James is stuffed and you’re all a bit tipsy on eggnog. Some of your natural anxiety fades as everything starts to feel slower and more fluid, your insides warm and soft as wax.
“No, because it was so obvious,” Sirius says. He’s telling a story of a girl he’d seen at a coffee shop that he’s sure was enamored with him. James, naturally, agrees completely, but Lily and Remus aren’t so sure. “She did the—the thing. Y/N, back me up. When a girl makes eye contact with you and then looks off to the side, it means she’s not interested, but when she looks down, it’s because she’s nervous, right?”
You raise your eyebrows. “I think you made that up,” you tell him, tiny bits of laughter running in between your words. “Anyway, is her being nervous necessarily a good thing?”
“She was nervous because she’s obsessed with me,” Sirius insists.
“Or,” Remus says, “she was nervous because you were staring at her, and she thought you were going to follow her outside.”
“And probably kill her,” Lily agrees.
James’ eyebrows shoot up. “Merlin, you two are dark. Our Padfoot’s not putting out murderous vibes. He’s got too much boyish charm.”
Sirius nods appreciatively, but Lily only shrugs, careful not to jostle Harry where he’s sleeping on her lap. “Girls have to think of those things.”
“Gross,” James says, looking slightly troubled as he kisses the side of his wife’s head. “Well, I think she was in love with you, Pads.”
“Yeah,” Remus rolls his eyes, “he should show up at her house and find out. It’d be romantic.”
“And on that note,” James goes on, ignoring him, “shall we do presents?”
You all agree, and Sirius looks at James with an older brother’s entitlement. “Go ahead and distribute them, Prongsie.”
James, well used to this, doesn’t even question it, scampering back and forth between the tree (which you can’t help but notice is somewhat lacking in the ornament department but quite sparkly) to deliver your presents at your feet. After a few rounds of this, you can’t stand it anymore and get up to help, laughing through the protests of your remaining three friends. (“He’s got it, love,” Remus says, and Sirius adds, “He’s got energy he needs to run off anyway.”) Between the two of you, the bottom of the Christmas tree is bare within a couple of minutes, small piles of presents next to each of your friends. You go to sit back by the pile meant for you, touched at the fact that you have a box from every person there.
“S’not fair that James and Lily get to do couple’s presents now,” Sirius complains. “I’m going to start buying gifts for you like you’re one person, see how you like it.”
The biggest pile is obviously for Harry, and you all start there, no small amount of eagerness in James’ expression as he tears open the first box. “The Velveteen Rabbit,” he reads aloud. “Wow, this is kinda hefty for a children’s book.”
“Who’s it from?” Lily prompts, as if you don’t all already know.
“Shit, I forgot to check.”
“And that’s why we read the box,” Lily says slowly, and you get the sense this is a conversation that’s happened more than once, “before we start ripping, honey.”
“It was me,” Remus volunteers, lips pulling into a half-smile.
“Course it was,” James says, taking a break from sticking his tongue out at his wife to smile at Remus. “Thanks, Moony.”
“You had the opportunity to get him Goodnight Moon,” Sirius tsks, “and you just let it pass you by.”
Remus rolls his eyes, but then Lily says, “He already has that one,” and you watch as he tries and fails to suppress the shy smile that takes him. It shifts the scars on his cheek and lights his eyes with a warm tenderness.
He looks especially pretty under the Christmas lights, you think. The warm glow suits him, bringing out the amber in his eyes and richening the various brown shades of his hair. It makes his skin look softer too, smooth even where you know he has stubble around his jawline. You want suddenly to reach out and touch it, and you’re glad you’re sitting too far from him to act on the urge.
You’ve noticed Remus over the years, of course. It’d be impossible not to. You’ve always harbored a tiny crush on him, but you keep it shoved deep down in your gut where it can’t hurt anyone. You think the world of him, but you love your little group of friends more than anything else. You’re not unaware of the fact that Remus is a more crucial fixture in it than you are; if anything happened between you and it made things awkward for everyone, you’d be the one to go.
“Aw, is this a hat?” Lily pulls something tawny brown from a box, and you realize they’ve gotten to your gift. “Oh my god, it has little antlers!”
You try not to smile too hard as she shows it to James and he coos, taking it from her hands. “No way, he’ll be like our little Prongsie! I’m going to put it on him.”
“Don’t wake him,” Lily warns, but James waves her off.
“He can sleep through anything,” he says, settling the baby beanie on Harry’s head. Sure enough, he doesn’t stir.
“Oh, that’s so darling.” Lily presses a hand to her chest. “Y/N, where’d you get this?”
You feel your face heat and hope the lighting is covering your blush. “I made it,” you admit. “I know we’re already well into winter, but I hope he can still use it a little.”
“Um, he’s never taking it off. Like, ever.” James leans around Lily to press a smacking kiss to your cheek. You laugh, trying not to shrink in on yourself from all the attention. “Thanks, love.”
Once all the cooing over Harry’s presents is done, the rest of the gift opening proceeds with decidedly less fanfare, though no shortage of gratitude. You get a bunch of purple eyeliners from Sirius (you’d complained to him a few weeks ago that they’d stopped selling your old one, and he’d been thoughtful enough to find you options to help decide upon new one), a cookbook from James and Lily (“Now you can stop eating all those frozen meals,” James tells you with a meaningful look), and a set of mittens from Remus (“They’re alpaca,” he explains. “Supposed to be extra warm, and your hands are always freezing.”). The rest of your gifts are received happily too, and then Remus’ living room is covered with the wrapping paper Lily had tried but eventually given up on getting everyone to put in piles as they went and you’re all starting to yawn.
“Alright,” Lily says after a while, “it’s well past Harry’s bedtime, and ours, and I’m sure Remus would like his flat back.”
“Booo.” Sirius lays back on the couch, letting his head loll over the edge of the armrest. “Domestic life has made you lame, Evans-Potter.”
“Yeah, yeah,” James drawls, gathering Harry against his chest, “I saw you yawning, Pads. Let’s go.”
You stand with the rest of them, going to find your shoes by the door. “Thanks for everything, Remus,” you say. “It was great.”
“For a first time hosting,” James allows, jokingly prideful, “I suppose you did a pretty decent job. Big shoes to fill, and all that.”
Remus smiles as he rolls his eyes, but it falters when his gaze settles on something behind you. “Are you all going to be alright getting home? It looks like it’s really picked up.”
You follow his stare out the window. He’s not wrong. The unusually thick snowfall you’d arrived in has morphed into something that looks more like a blizzard, the wind whipping white across the black backdrop of sky outside Remus’ flat.
James looks between the scene outside and his family once before seeming to make a decision. “Yeah, we’ll be alright,” he says, watching Lily as he talks. She nods her approval, and James’ voice becomes more solid. “We don’t have far to drive.”
Remus nods, still looking worried. His brows furrow as he turns to you. “What about you? Are you gonna be okay?”
“Yeah.” It’s the only answer in these situations, though you’re sure Remus would be alright with the alternative if you felt very strongly. “It doesn’t look too bad out there.”
Remus casts another dubious glance out the window, and a particularly loud gust of wind whooshes past as if to spite you. “Are you sure? It looks pretty bad to me.”
“Yeah,” James says, “don’t you live a bit far?”
“It’s not that far,” you fib, at the same time as Remus says, “She does.”
You laugh awkwardly, pulling on your coat “It’s not. Anyway, I’ve driven in a lot worse than this.”
Lily gives you a small smile. “That’s hardly reassuring, babe.”
“You can stay here,” Remus offers, but you’re shaking your head before he’s even gotten the words out.
“That’s sweet of you, but I can make it home.” You give him your most competent smile. “If I end up driving off the road and have to camp in my car, at least I’ll have fantastic mittens to keep the frostbite from my hands.”
He gives you a deadpan look. “While I’m glad you’re excited to use my gift, I’d prefer to keep it from coming to that.”
“You can’t get in a crash and die on Christmas,” Sirius says. “It’d be, like, a super huge downer for us every year.”
“I’ll be fine,” you insist.
“Shortcake, I don’t care if we have to lock you in here,” James says, frowning in a way that doesn’t look particularly tough when he’s swaying back and forth to rock Harry on his chest. “There’s no way you can drive all the way to your place in this.”
You roll your eyes good-naturedly, wrapping your scarf.
“Okay, you know I would never usually say this,” Lily says, gnawing on her lip as she watches the snow blow past outside, “but I think you should listen to the boys. It looks too scary out there to drive that far.”
“It’s…” You look between them, your argument dying of futility on your tongue. James seems prepared to blockade you in Remus’ flat, and even Lily’s giving you a stern look. Your gaze lands on Remus, and the last of your resistance melts away.
“You really should stay here,” he says kindly. “Actually, I’d feel a lot better if you did. Okay?”
You sigh, slipping your scarf back over your head. “Okay.”
“Phew!” Sirius says, pulling you into a one-armed hug. “Glad that’s settled. See you all soon, thanks for Christmas Moony!”
“He’s so tired,” Lily says after Sirius is out the door.
“Wiped,” James agrees, adjusting his grip on Harry so that he can wrap one arm around Remus’ neck. Remus leans down into the awkward hug, begrudgingly fond as he pats his friend on the back, then kisses Lily on the cheek when James moves to you.
“Thanks for the gifts,” James says, grinning down at Harry’s knit antlers after he releases you. “He’s never taking this off.”
“He means it.” Lily sends her husband a look as fond as it is weary as she hugs you. “I’ll probably have to bathe Harry when James is asleep so he doesn’t catch him without it.”
Your face is feeling hot again. “I’m glad you like it,” you say with a little shrug, but your friends are used to your shyness and only smile and wave on their way out.
And then the door shuts, and you and Remus are left alone in the quiet.
“Are you tired?” he asks you, moving back into the living room. Lily had sneakily taken care of a good deal of the cleanup, but there’s still a few half-empty glasses of eggnog strewn about which Remus begins gathering.
“Not really,” you answer honestly, beating him to the sink and forcing him to hand you the glasses to wash. “Are you?”
“No,” he agrees, and the look he shoots you has to be the gentlest form malice has ever taken as he takes up the dish towel and stations himself beside you. “Fancy a film?”
“Mmm, a Christmas film?”
“Obviously.”
The dishes are finished quickly thanks to Lily’s interference, and Remus makes you some hot cocoa while you scroll through movies, calling out possibilities. The only conflict between you is your equal complaisance to whatever the other prefers, and you eventually settle on the first one you’d seen just to put an end to it. You take your cocoa gladly when Remus passes it to you, blowing gently while he settles a blanket over the both of you, your knees curled towards him and his one leg crossed over the other angling him towards you.
The first few minutes of the film are spent in that contented quietude that the two of you so often fall into when you’re alone together, but then Remus asks you, “What is it?”
You look over at him. “Hm?”
“You’re frowning.”
“Oh.” You laugh. “I’m just thinking about snow.”
His lips quirk. “It is kind of the bane of your existence tonight, isn’t it?”
“No.” You smile down at your hands, hoping it's not obvious how not unpleasant you find your circumstances at the moment. “That’s not it. I was thinking, I kind of hate how it always has to snow in these movies. It makes any Christmas where it doesn’t snow feel like it’s not up to par. Or not quintessential enough, or something.”
“Mmm, I see.” Remus looks back to the screen, considering. “Does that make this your quintessential Christmas, then? Are we living up to the movie standard?”
You watch him while he watches the TV, blue light cast over his handsome features. “I guess so,” you say.
The longer you sit there, the closer you get. You blame it on the late hour, your bodies relaxing towards each other on the couch. Remus’ arm brushes yours when he lifts his mug for a sip, and your knees dig into his thigh under the blanket. Soon you’ve drooped enough that you’re leaning nearly entirely against him. You don’t notice until Remus puts an arm around you to encourage your head to his shoulder. You tense but don’t sit up, and eventually his head comes to rest atop yours.
“Are you crying?” he murmurs during one scene near the end.
Your reply is equally soft, not wanting to jostle either Remus’ head or his shoulder with your speech movements. “I really like this part.”
“You know how it ends. It’s going to be okay.”
“I know.” You sniffle, bringing a hand up to wipe your face now that you’ve been caught. “I know it is. It’s just really profound.”
“Sure it is.”
“It’s the spirit of Christmas, Remus. Goodwill to man.”
“Okay.” He rubs your shoulder, and you pretend not to feel his shaking with quiet laughter. “Okay, I agree with you.”
And awhile later: “You’re tired,” he accuses.
You hum a denial.
“Sweetheart” —your stomach flutters, and there’s a jolt somewhere behind your ribcage; you ignore it— “you’re practically falling asleep right here.”
“Are you tired?”
He shifts slightly, stubble tickling your forehead. “No. But you are.”
“I want to finish the movie.”
He seems to debate this for a moment, then his shoulder relaxes beneath you. “Alright.”
The credits start, and neither of you move.
You let your head slump more heavily onto his shoulder. “Your place really does look lovely. Thanks for having me.”
“Of course, love.” You can feel his smile squish up against the top of your head. “Would you go so far as to say my hosting measures up to James’?”
You chuckle, gesturing to yourself. “I’d say you’ve gone above and beyond, for sure.”
Remus laughs too. “Perfect. Tell him so, would you?”
You’re going to agree when a great yawn takes you. You keep it quiet, but there’s no avoiding the way your chin digs into Remus’ shoulder, your shoulders rising with the prolonged inhale. He moves away from you.
“Ready for bed?” He smiles down at you as you run a knuckle under your eyes, collecting tears from your lashes.
You shrug an admittance. “Sort of. But I don’t want to kick you out of your own living room if you’re not tired yet.”
“No, I’m pretty wiped too,” he says. “Anyway, I’m the one kicking you out. You’re staying in my room.”
You had a feeling he would say something like that. You grab a throw pillow, getting situated with your head near the armrest. “No, I’m not.”
His laugh is disbelieving. “Yeah, you are. Come on, you’re my guest. I’m not letting you sleep on the couch.”
You tug the blanket off his lap, curling up with your pillow stubbornly. “I’m not going to steal your bed. You’ve already done so much. You’ve helped me try gingerbread cookies and given me nice mittens and hosted an amazing Christmas. Let me sleep on your couch, please.”
“While I appreciate all that,” he says, “no.”
“Remus.” You’re near pleading at this point. “Your back will hurt.”
“Your back will hurt.”
“Not as badly as yours.” You give him a hard look. “I’m not taking your bed.”
There’s a brief silence, terser than your usual ones but no more awkward for it. You stare each other down.
“Right,” Remus says, reclaiming the remote from where he’d set it on the coffee table. “I suppose we’d better start another movie, then.”
“Remus, come on.” You sit up, giving his shoulder a gentle nudge. “You’ve just said you’re tired. Go to bed, please.”
The TV flickers back on. “I’m not leaving this couch.”
“Well, neither am I,” you laugh, completely serious.
He rolls his eyes, then snuggles up to you under the blanket. You take this as a sign that he’s not really very cross with you. “You’re much more argumentative than usual tonight, you know that?”
You huff, laying your head back on his shoulder. “I could say the same about you.”
“True, but I know I’ll win out in the end.”
“You can think that if you like.”
“Want to watch this one next?”
“Sure.”
❆ ❆ ❆
Remus watches as your eyes drift closed, then twitch back open, over and over again. He thinks his bony shoulder is the only thing keeping you from falling over the precipice of sleep. If he were James Potter, he’d simply pick you up with ease and carry you to his bed, but Remus can’t say he’s entirely sorry for this extra time with you, even if neither of you are awake enough to make much conversation.
Silly as it sounds, he enjoys just sitting here with you nearly as much as talking. Your cheek squished into his shoulder, your legs curled up atop his, you’re warm and weighty against him.
He should have known it would be a hopeless endeavor trying to get you to agree to take the bed. You’re a gentle thing by nature, but stubborn in your selflessness. Even if you had gone, Remus knows he wouldn’t have slept all night anyway, too preoccupied with thoughts of you all wrapped up in his sheets, your face pressed to his pillow, getting your shampoo-smell on the pillowcase. He doesn’t know if it smells like him (does he have a smell?), but he would have wondered all night if it does, if you were noticing.
Your head nearly rolls off his shoulder, and a pitying sound escapes Remus when you jerk awake to set it right. He lets his head rest on yours so it doesn’t happen again. Your eyelids droop closed almost immediately, and Remus begins dragging his thumb over your shoulder blade, a nice, slow back-and-forth. You’re quiet for a long while.
“Are you trying to put me to sleep?” you murmur, words all sloshed together.
It’s a conscious effort not to let his thumb slow. “No,” he says.
You hum.
“Unless you mean it’s working.”
Another long silence. “It’s not,” you reply, head growing heavier on his shoulder.
He chuckles. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you to bed, hm?”
“You go to bed,” you mumble, and if he thought you were capable of it he’d say there was some bitterness lining your words.
He sighs. “You’re too nice for your own good,” he tells you.
“No,” you reply, softly, plainly, like it’s a fact, “that’s you.”
He picks his head up off of yours to see your face. “Yeah?”
“Mhm.” Your eyes are closed. You don’t know he’s looking. Your face is wholly relaxed, no hint of pretense about you. “You’re the best I know.”
Something warm and wheedling works its way through Remus’ ribs to the soft gooey core of him. “Well,” he tells you honestly, “you’re the best I know.”
You seem unconcerned. “Another impasse for us.”
He actually laughs at that, instantly guilty when it jostles you on his shoulder and your eyelids peel apart. He can’t regret it, though, when you look at him the way you do. You’re glowing in the light coming off the tree, soft and warm and lovely, and yet you’re looking at him like he’s the only place your eyes want to go. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
You come gradually more awake, eyebrows twitching towards each other just slightly. “Remus,” you murmur, and he finally does what he’s been wanting to since you’d shown up at his door hours ago. He kisses you.
Your lips are pliable, parting for his almost instantly, like you’d been waiting. His hand coasts from your shoulder to cup the back of your head, keeping you close as your nose slides against his. You both all but fall back onto the bed you’d made yourself on the couch. He’s careful not to put too much of his weight on you, but when his tongue brushes across the inside of your lip and you inhale, he draws back.
“I...” He pants into the space between you. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t—”
You make a sound that’s half hum, half whine, and bump your chin up into his.
Remus loses himself again with frightening quickness. It’s even better now that you seem more sure, your mouth asking, coaxing against his. You taste like gingerbread. An low, embarrassing sound pries free from the back of his throat when you wind your fingers into the hair at his nape, and he slips his free hand beneath your back, getting as close to you as he can. Your legs make room for him automatically, knees tipping open so he can slot between them.
“Do you—” you breathe when his attentions move downward, tilting your head to the side to offer access as he mouths at the skin just under your jaw. “Do you want this?”
The word leaves him in a soft exhale, muffled against your skin. “Yes.”
You swallow. He feels the movement in your throat. “Are you sure?”
His eyelashes brush your jaw as his kisses slow, become more tender, more intentional. “Lovely girl,” he murmurs. “You’re silly, you know that?” His mouth meanders it’s way over to your pulse, getting stuck there and sucking at your skin lazily. “I mean, you’re smart.” The words are all mushed up against you. Noticeably amused. Remus quit the eggnog hours ago, yet he feels half drunk. “You’re really smart, honey, but you can be so oblivious sometimes.”
You don’t respond, and as much as he loves the sound of your voice, he’s hoping your silence is in his favor right now. He wants you wrapped up in him, wants to engross you so completely you forget how to form your lips around speech.
“Do you want to move to my room?”
You take a breath. Fuck, even the sound of you breathing is nearly enough to undo him. He moves back to your mouth as if to intercept it, nipping at your lower lip.
“Is this a ploy to get me off the couch?”
“You’re relentless.”
Your lips curve against his, and he mirrors them without thinking. You stay quiet.
“Fine. I promise it’s not, okay?”
Your laugh is fizzy like champagne, and it warms Remus’ chest like it too. “Okay,” you say in that lovely voice. “Okay, let’s go.”
❆ ❆ ❆
You’d always thought Remus was all softness. He’s made up of soft looks, soft colors, and hair that you can now confirm is soft as dandelion fluff. But this night has defied your expectations in a thousand ways. And your Remus, soft, gentle, kindhearted Remus, is scraping at your throat with his teeth.
You have to suck your lip between your teeth to keep from making a humiliatingly desperate sound when he passes his tongue over his work, another crescent moon that’s sure to be purple by morning. Your hands are beseeching in his dandelion fluff hair, keeping him close while his hands are busy lower, one gripping the fat of your hip while the other drags tantalizingly slow up and down your side. He’s kissing you like you have all the time in the world, sometimes rough but no more urgent for it, and you’re breathy and molten and useless beneath him.
You’re brimming with adoration and something else too. Something that you think you could almost identify—you’ve felt it before, but never like this.
“What do you want to do?” There’s a raspy quality to his voice that would send you to your knees if he hadn’t already taken them out from under you. He dots leisurely, open-mouthed kisses up the column of your throat, soothing over spots he’s already nipped and sucked into oblivion. Your head feels fuzzy. “Sweetheart?”
Christ, is he trying to send you into cardiac arrest? Remus doesn’t stop kissing you even at your silence, finding your lip still held between your teeth and encouraging it free with his own. You try to remember what he’d ask you. What do you want to do? You have no idea. Where would you even start? You want him to keep talking to you in that raspy voice, that’s for sure. You want…you want to keep kissing him, to know what his hands would do if you let them beneath your clothes. You want to keep investigating that warm feeling in your gut. See where it takes you.
Remus’ kisses slow, then stop. He pulls back to look at you. In the dim street light coming in through the window, you wonder what he sees. “You alright?” His voice is soft, gentle, saying it’s okay if you’re not without saying it.
You take a breath. It shakes a little on the way out, but you don’t think he can tell. “Yeah, I’m good. Just nervous. But not in a bad way.” Nervous-happy.
“Don’t be,” he implores, lips brushing your cheek. “It’s only me.”
Exactly, you think. It’s you.
“What do you want to do?” You turn his own question back on him.
His smile is tinged with bashfulness. “I mean, whatever you’re alright with.” There’s a tentative quietness to his voice. “Have you…”
If it were possible for you to get any warmer, embarrassment would do it. “No,” you say, shrinking away from him though there’s nowhere to go. Whatever the end to that question might be, the answer is no.
“That’s okay,” he says quickly, dropping another kiss on the corner of your mouth like a cure-all remedy. “That’s okay, you just tell me if you want to stop, yeah? If you don’t like something, or you want to slow down—anything at all, you let me know.” He kisses you again, further up on your burning cheek. “Okay?”
You swallow. “Okay.”
“Don’t be nervous.” He says it like a promise, hand stroking your side again as if to soothe you. His lips find your shoulder, nosing the fabric of your sleeve. “Can I take this off, lovely?”
You nod, words all stoppered up in your throat, then realize he can’t see you and do it yourself. He has to pause as it comes off, taking the opportunity to do away with his own sweater, tossing it on the floor beside the bed. You do the same, and your bra quickly follows. You’d always thought (largely influenced, admittedly, by trashy novels) that this was the part where the guy stops what he’s doing and openly oggles the shirtless woman in front of him, but Remus has seen tits before and wastes no time in getting his mouth back on yours, pressing you into the mattress. His skin is as heated as yours, the areas where you touch deliciously warm despite the cold still whipping past his bedroom window. You allow yourself one sweeping, appreciative pass over the muscles on Remus’ back before your hands go down to your bottoms, shimmying them down your legs. A long-fingered hand finds the exposed skin of your thigh and kneads reverently. You swallow Remus’ groan, and he kisses you more deeply, long, savoring passes of his tongue along the inside of your mouth until his lips move downward.
One hand stays at your hip while the other strokes up and down your thigh, spit cooling in a path down your stomach. You try to relax as he passes your navel, but the anticipation is hard to shake. You’re nearly trembling when he kneels between your legs, kissing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.
“Is this okay?” he murmurs.
It’s all you can do to nod, gasping when his teeth drag over one of the stretch marks there. You clutch at the sheets above your head like a lifeline.
“We can stop anytime you want.”
You inhale raggedly. “No,” you manage. Your breathlessness is obvious in the quiet room. “I want—I want to keep going.” You pause. “Do you?”
You can hear the smile in his voice. “Yeah, love, that sounds good to me.”
Good, you’re about to say, but Remus’ next kiss lands on your slit, and your voice withers and dies in your throat. He uses a hand to push one of your legs open further while bringing the other over his shoulder, spreading you open. His breath fans hot over your cunt.
You’re writhing at the first broad stroke of his tongue, and he wraps his fingers around the outside of your thigh, keeping you still while placating you at the same time.
Remus takes his time, lapping experimentally at your entrance before making his way upwards. You gasp as his tongue skims over your clit, burrowing your hand in his hair before hesitating.
“Is this okay?” you ask.
His hummed assent has you tightening your grasp. He brushes over your clit one more time, and when this gets a similar reaction from you, begins sucking on it gently. You’re panting, and Remus has to move his grip to your hip to hold you in place, squeezing indulgently at the fat there while he narrows in on what you like. Before long you’re trembling all over, grasping feebly at his hair as you squeeze your eyes shut against the odd sort of bliss that’s taking you under.
“Remus,” you breathe, and it’s a miracle that he hears you but he does, raising his head with a lewd suctioning sound.
He looks at you questioningly with eyes almost all pupil.
“Come here,” you plead.
He obeys, crawling back up you to peck at your bitten lips. “Doing alright?” he asks you.
“Yeah,” you promise, cupping his head in one hand and wrapping your leg over the back of his as if to prevent him from leaving. “Just wanted to kiss you.”
You feel him smile against your lips. He slots his mouth over yours, and you dedicate yourself to his top lip. He tastes like sex, braver now as he explores your mouth. He drags your bottom lip between his teeth, and you make a high, breathy sound. His grip on you tightens.
“Do you think—can we—”
He hesitates, kissing softly at the corner of your lips. “Are you sure?”
“I want to. Do you?”
Remus actually laughs, muffling the sound against your cheek. “Yeah, I fucking want to. I’ve wanted to forever.”
You can’t think about that. Think about that and you’ll fall to pieces.
He noses affectionately at the underside of your jaw, slipping down you once again to stand at the end of the bed. He steps out of his pants and grabs a condom from the drawer of his nightstand. “You’ll tell me if I do anything you don’t like, yeah?”
“Mhm,” you promise, anticipation coiling up snugly with that other thing in your stomach. They don’t feel all that distinct from one another.
“Alright,” he says, palm slipping under your thigh. “Can I lift this up, love?”
You nod, and he grasps the soft underside of your knee, bringing your leg up to your stomach as he lines up. You gasp as he pushes in slowly, watching your face to make sure you’re doing okay. You’re already slick and worked open from his ministrations, and it’s still a bit shocking. His thumb strokes beside your knee as your walls adjust to the size of him. “How’s that feel?”
“Good,” you say honestly. There’s a note of desperation to your voice. “I can—more, please.”
He’s quick to accommodate you, pushing deeper as he folds himself over you to recapture your lips. Your breaths shallow. His free hand moves to your breast, kneading gently at the soft flesh. He gives it a firm squeeze at the same time as he moves inside you, and you nearly bite Remus’ lip off, a half-suppressed keening sound escaping you.
“So good,” he mumbles. “You’re doing so good, sweetheart. Taking it so well.” He lifts his head, kissing your temple. “Think you can handle a bit more?”
Your response is barely more than breath, but he catches the affirmation, pressing another firm kiss to your forehead before he bottoms out inside you. Your head lolls back, fuzzy with the strange pain and even stranger pleasure. Remus tightens his grip on your leg to keep it up, dotting kisses down the side of your face.
“Good girl,” he says hoarsely. “Still doing okay, lovely?”
“Yeah,” you say, somewhat dizzy. “Remus, it feels so good.”
“Good,” he croons. “It should feel good, love. Ready for me to move?”
“Mhm.”
He pulls out slowly, dragging against your sensitive walls. He starts mouthing at your neck again before he pushes back inside you, filling you up all over again. A slew of expletives roll out of your mouth, unbidden and entirely unlike you, as Remus begins pumping your breast again, the rhythm matching that of his thrusts. He sucks the flesh of your neck between his teeth, and you bite down hard on your lower lip to repress what promises to be a high-pitched and deeply mortifying sound.
Remus praises you amply, soft kisses and reverent touches and a raspy “Fuck, sweetheart, just like that.” Your head floats or swims or both, your body tensed all over and yet completely plaint beneath Remus’ hands. He moves back to your mouth, discovering your bottom lip held captive between your teeth.
“Come on, don’t do that,” he chides, easing it free with gentle kisses. “Let me hear you, bet you sound so pretty.”
The Welsh accent that’s grown faint after years of living away from home is emerging now, as is the crude vocabulary it's tied to in memory, a host of barely comprehensible profanities spewing from Remus’ lips when you clench on him again. His grip tightens on your tit, and a moan tears from the back of your throat.
“That’s it,” he praises, head dipping to kiss the soft spot he’s found under your ear. “There you are, lovely girl.”
The coil in your core grows impossibly tighter, your thighs quivering as you approach a peak you’ve never known before. Remus feels it, cooing softly even as he drives into you harder.
“You gonna cum, sweetheart?” You nod dazedly. “Good, good, just let it happen, I’ve got you.”
“Come here,” you demand again, and he wastes no time in obliging you. He kisses your lips sore as you dig your nails into his shoulders, pulling his body flush against yours, the feeling inside you growing so great you don’t know where to put it, don’t know if you can contain it. You can’t remember ever feeling this close to someone, Remus’ touch the only thing keeping you from hurtling off some unknown precipice.
“Let go,” he urges, and you do. You trust him to catch you.
It’s bliss like you’ve never known. You cry out, and Remus’ hand slides down from your breast to spread wide and flat against your ribs. Steadying. He kisses soothingly at your jaw as you gasp and pant your way back to him, grip slackening on his shoulders.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, though you really haven’t done much at all.
“Are you—” You swallow, choking on the emotion that’s risen unbidden in your throat. “Are you close?”
Remus smiles, coming back to your lips like he can’t help himself. He pecks you once, twice. “Sweetheart, I’m more than close. I’ve barely been holding myself together since you kissed me.”
Well, he’d actually kissed you, but you’ll take the compliment anyway.
“Do you think you’ll be alright if I move again?” he asks. “It’s okay if not.”
“You can,” you say certainly, leaning up on your elbows to see him better. “Is there…anything I can do to help?”
The smile fades from his face, leaving something far more tender in its wake. “Just, keep looking at me like that?” He says it almost like he’s embarrassed, voice quiet with supplication.
You want to tell him you’d never needed asking to look at him, but you don’t, keeping your eyes on his obediently as he pumps into you. He really must have been close, because he’s cursing again not long after, accent twisting his syllables with a gruff pleasure. Your walls contract at the movement, still sensitive, and that’s all it takes. Remus digs his fingers into your waist and makes sounds you’re sure you’ll dream about, panting, breathy moans you sit up to smother against your lips. He follows you back down onto the mattress, mouth slotted against your own. You hold him to you until his breaths even and his grip on you loosens.
“Was that alright?” he asks, some of the rasp still lingering in his voice.
You can’t help the laugh that escapes you, dizzy with affection. “Yeah, it was good,” you promise him. Understatement of the year. “Really good, Rem.”
“Good,” he echoes, lips brushing the skin under your eye. You don’t know how you know, but you can feel the amusement building in him just before he asks, “Tired yet?”
You guffaw. The force of it jostles him on top of you, and his lips curve against your cheek. “A little bit, yeah.” Actually, you hadn’t realized how exhausting sex would be. If it didn’t mean having to take your eyes off Remus, you’d have closed them and passed out by now.
“Good,” he says again, hands sliding down your waist as he moves to stand again. You make a small sound as he shifts, and Remus shushes you, slipping out from inside you. You watch fascinatedly as he removes the condom, sticky with cum. He tosses it in the wastebasket under his desk and walks away from you.
“Hey,” you protest. “You’d better not be sneaking off to sleep on the couch.”
His chuckle echoes in the bathroom, followed by the sound of a cabinet opening. “So mistrustful,” he says when he comes back in with a damp towel. “What’ve I done to arouse such suspicion?”
Your fuzzy brain gets stuck on the word arouse in his teasing tone, and it takes you a second to answer. “Well, I’m here and a blink away from falling asleep, so you tell me.”
“Fair enough.” He rolls his eyes good-naturedly, taking your thigh in his grasp to move it aside. “Alright if I clean you up, love?”
You startle, coming up on your elbows to see where Remus is holding the towel between your legs. “I didn’t realize it’d be so messy,” you admit. “You don’t have to, though, I can do it myself.”
“I don’t mind,” he says, thumb soothing over your knee. “S’my mess anyway.” He seems to have not quite agreed with himself to say that last part aloud, a blush spreading over his cheeks.
“Sure,” you say, mostly to alleviate his embarrassment. You let your weight lean more heavily on your elbows, trying your best to look relaxed. “Sure, if you’re alright with it.”
“Might be a bit sensitive,” he warns. You’d guessed as much, but it's worth it for all the praises he rains down upon you as he works, finishing with a kiss to the side of your knee.
You miss him humiliatingly when he goes to the bathroom again to discard the towel. It’s all you can do not to reach for him when he comes back, but luckily Remus reads your mind anyway, slipping under the covers and tugging you to him until his lips rest against your forehead.
“That was really great,” you tell him.
“I thought so too.”
“You’ll stay here, right?”
A low laugh. “Yeah, sweetheart. I’m staying here.”
❆ ❆ ❆
Remus hasn’t known anyone to sleep in longer than Sirius, but you seem to be vying for his title. The sun has long since passed above his windows when Remus wakes, and still he has time to spend idle hours marveling at the closeness of you. His nose is cold above the covers, but everywhere your bodies are pressed together is warm, your palm flat against his chest and one of your legs wormed between his own. Your fingers twitch as you dream.
It has to be early afternoon by the time he rises, slipping his hand carefully from beneath you and plodding into the kitchen. The blanket is still on the couch where you left it, throw pillow creased with your indentation. Your mugs are discarded on the coffee table with globs of once-hot cocoa stuck to the bottom. Bright light refracts off the snow outside and into his kitchen, making everything look shiny new.
Remus starts the kettle first, letting that warm up while he rifles through the cabinets for his big mixing bowl and starts whisking together ingredients. A bird chirps outside as the kettle gurgles, and somehow the peace of Remus’ kitchen feels more complete knowing that you’re sleeping just down the hall.
Until, apparently, you’re not. Your footsteps are so silent he startles when you appear, still blinking yourself awake as you cross your arms over the sweater you’ve thrown on with your bottoms from the night before. Remus’ sweater. And Remus had thought he’d come to terms with the idea of you here, in his apartment like the best Christmas gift of all time, but apparently not, because his heart stutters and stops at the sight of you.
He’d thought you’d looked adorable in the soft glow of the Christmas lights the night before, and again tucked into his sheets this morning, but you’re almost ethereal now. Sunlight bathes the planes of your face and gleams off your hair, making you appear almost like you’re emanating the bright light rather than standing in it. You smile at him, seraphim.
“Morning. Sorry I didn’t ask,” you say, fingering the hem of Remus’ sweater. “I was cold and you were gone, I hope you don’t mind.”
Mind? Remus can’t even think.
“Course not,” he manages, but just barely. It’s more an exhale than a statement. “Did you sleep alright?”
“Really well,” you say. His sleeves cover your fingers as you rest your elbows on the counter, and your gaze has gone a bit shy again, but Remus can hardly blame you. You both seemed to have experienced unusual nerve the night before. He only hopes you aren’t regretting your part in it. And now that he’s had some time to think, he hopes even more that you’d truly wanted it in the first place. “Did you?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
You lean a bit closer in a way that he doubts either of you are even slightly unaware of, peering into the mixing bowl. “What’re you making?”
“I’m experimenting,” he says, though he wishes now he weren’t. He wanted to make you something good, but his confidence in his adaptation is waning now that you’re in the room. He should have gone with something basic, tried-and-true. “Or, I’m attempting. Gingerbread pancakes?”
His voice crawls up into a question, as if he really has no idea what it is he’s trying to make (maybe that’s closer to the truth), but Remus’ regrets vanish instantly at the genuine elation that lights your expression.
“Really?”
A laugh startles out of him, giddy. “Yeah, does that sound alright?”
“More than alright,” you declare with full seriousness, seating yourself at the bar counter. “That sounds amazing, Rem, thank you. Merlin, I owe you so big for all of this.”
“I think you’ve more than made it up to me.” It slips out without permission, Remus too high on the flow of your conversation to filter the words through his brain before they reach his mouth. His loathsome, traitorous mouth. “I mean, I’m sorry—fuck, that sounds awful—I only meant that I’ve had a really good time with you here. I’m glad you stayed.”
You flush horribly, and Remus doesn’t expect he’s faring much better.
“Not that I’m only glad because of—or, I’m always glad to have you. As a friend, too.”
There’s a tiny pinch in your features, gone before he can diagnose it. Somehow, you seem even more uncomfortable. “Right.” You give him a thin smile. It’s a hearty attempt, but you’re too genuine a soul to fake it. Remus hates himself for it. “As a friend.”
They’re his own words, put hearing them from your mouth and with that piss-poor smile feels like having a fire poker jammed between his ribs.
With his track record this morning, he really should be taking a vow of silence, but he can’t seem to stop himself. “Just friends, then?” Hesitance makes his voice sound quiet even in the silent kitchen. He looks down, stirring the batter to avoid watching the answer take form on your face.
“I mean,” your tone is a match to his, “is that what you want?”
A short, soft laugh escapes him. “I think I made what I want fairly clear last night.”
There’s a short silence. “I thought I did too.”
It’s a conscious effort to keep stirring. Had you? Remus had kissed you, he’d brought you to his room, he’d been the one to ask if you wanted to do more. And you’d been game for it all, sure, but he can’t help but wonder if you were just going along with it. If maybe you’d thought it was just a fuck, something he’d come up with to pass the time while you were both snowed in, no strings attached. Remus could understand that. He could disentangle the strings from last night if it’s what you want. But he’s liked you for years. He could love you oh so easily. He’s practically teetering on the edge of it already, though you’ve only been friends all this time.
Remus spoons some batter into a waiting pan on the stove. He’s debating asking what exactly it is that you thought you’d made clear when you speak again.
“I understand if it’s too much for you.” Your voice is shy. He looks up, and your shoulders are hunched as if you’re trying to hide yourself. You shrink further under his gaze. “We can stay just friends if it’s…if that’s what you want. I want whatever’s easier for you.” Your next words are so impossibly soft, Remus has to strain to hear them over the low sizzling of the pancake batter. “I really want you to stay in my life.”
“What?” It’s a staccato, loud enough that it surprises you both, Remus stepping toward you while you nearly flinch back. “Sorry.” His hand goes up, reaching into the space between you as if he can soothe you from feet away. He lowers his volume. “Sorry, sweetheart, I just—I didn’t realize that was even on the table. I would never want to not be in your life.”
“I just mean that I don’t want to make things weird for you, or for everyone else—”
“Hey.” He manages to cross the distance this time, his hand landing on your wrist atop the counter. Remus isn’t sure why he needs it there so desperately, but he suddenly feels much better. “There is nothing that could make any of us not want to be friends with you. I can speak for everyone in that regard. Okay?”
You look at him consideringly for a moment. Remus holds your stare, letting you see his certainty. “Okay,” you echo, sounding unsure. He’ll deal with that later, he decides.
“Okay,” he says once more, and it’d almost be firm if it weren’t so gentled by the tenderness he can never seem to get rid of around you. Even so, what he says next doesn’t sound particularly tender. It’s not very kind to you, he knows, but Remus is selfish, and he feels (selfishly) like he’s done his part already. He tries to phrase it as nicely as he can. “Can you tell me what it is that you want, please?”
You try to shrink again, and Remus’ grip tightens on your wrist instinctually as if to keep you from running off. He swipes his thumb over your skin apologetically. “Remus, come on.” You sound almost upset, but it’s hard to tell with your voice so quiet. “I know I’m not that good at—at covering myself up. I must have hearts in my eyes half the time I look at you.”
Remus would give a month’s rent to know what you can see in his eyes right now. Even if he’d been hoping for an answer something like that, he hadn’t expected it. And for you to act like it’s been obvious…he does his best to think back.
You’ve always been a shy thing. It had taken James months to get you to be remotely yourself around them, and though you’d seemed to warm to Remus first, you’d always retained some of your bashfulness when you were alone together. He’d chalked it up to the result of two people, quiet by nature, with no wildly extroverted James or Sirius or Lily to run interference.
You’ve always been kind to him, but you’re kind to everyone. How is anyone supposed to suspect favoritism from a soul as indiscriminately sweet as yours?
He recalls your voice last night, thin and reedy and fragile as the cattails that had bordered the river behind his house as a kid. Wary of getting swept along by the current, but willing to go if Remus would take you. Do you want this?
He’d called you oblivious for asking. How could you wonder, when he’d been the one to kiss you and has probably been looking like he wanted to for years? He’s certainly been thinking about it for as long. But perhaps your obliviousness is another congruity between the two of you.
So much for opposites attract.
“I think I’m an idiot,” he says, and mercifully, a smile far more real than the last sneaks onto your face.
“You are not,” you reply, ever forgiving.
“Don’t tell Sirius,” he warns, “but I really think I am.” His voice drops into a more earnest register. “I had no idea, love, I’m sorry. Maybe you’re a better actress than you thought. But if you don’t want to be friends, I don’t want to either.” Remus hesitates. “Or, I always want to be your friend, just—”
“Remus?”
Finally. Someone needs to stop him. “Yeah?”
“Your pancake…”
He turns to find a thin spire of smoke rising from the pan. “Oh, fuck.” He grabs a spatula and quickly flips the pancake, but there’s no saving it. The bottom side is completely blackened. It’s inedible. “Sorry, I…I’m not sure I have enough batter for much more.”
“It’s fine.” There’s laughter in your tone, and that’s more than enough to make up for it. “It was a really sweet thought, that’s what matters anyway.”
Remus turns to find you’ve slipped out of your seat and are standing uncertainly on the threshold of the kitchen. His heart warms with incandescent, aching fondness.
“Would you come here?” he asks.
You comply with an eagerness he wonders he’s never noticed before, stepping forward to let him fold you into his arms. Your wrists cross over his mid back and the tip of his nose mushes into your hair as he touches his lips to the top of your head. He can’t believe he could have been holding you like this all along if only he hadn’t been so thick. He supposes he’ll have to make the most of it now.
“Let’s do away with asking about want, does that sound alright?” He rubs lightly between your shoulder blades, wonders if you like the feel of his breath on your scalp. “How about you tell me if anything comes up that you don’t want, and I’ll do the same.”
“Yeah.” Remus knows he likes the feel of your voice on his skin, chin moving against his chest. “Yeah, that sounds good.”
“Good.” He smiles, pressing another kiss to your head. “Okay, should we venture out to find something for breakfast? Or lunch, I suppose it is by now.”
You ease out of his arms. “I really should go home.” There’s an apology already embedded in your tone, but you add one anyway. “Sorry, but my cat’s been there all night by herself, so…”
“Right.” Remus ignores the dull throb behind his sternum, which is really a bit dramatic. He’ll see you soon, surely. “Yeah, that makes sense. Think you’ll be able to drive?”
“I mean, I looked outside.” You shrug, backing towards where you’d hung your coat the night before. “The roads here are cleared, which I hope means they’ve gotten to most of them already.”
“That’s good,” he says, though he feels the opposite. Your poor cat, he’s pitted completely against her now. She’s done nothing to deserve the resentment he’s directing at her, almost petulant in his malcontent. “Good, good.”
You’re both silent as you put on your shoes, your scarf. It’s not unusual for the two of you, but it lacks its usual easy contentedness. Your eyes flit up as you pull on your new gloves, a silent thanks in them that you know Remus won’t let you voice aloud again. Despite the upset in his chest, he smiles.
“I…listen, I have to go home,” you tell him, looking down as you wriggle your fingers more snugly into the gloves. “I have to feed my cat. But that doesn’t necessarily mean I want to…leave.”
Remus can’t see how that changes anything, but he recognizes it for the olive branch it is. You’re both so uncertain, and you’re trying to alleviate his worries about what you leaving right now means. He can return the favor.
“I don’t want you to leave either,” he says, “but I get it. She seems important to you, best to keep her well.”
“Exactly.” You smile, relieved. “But I mean, if you’re not doing anything, you could come meet her? We could pick up breakfast on the way. Or I could make you something there.”
Remus can’t believe his luck. And, once again, his stupidity in not getting there himself. Why is it that all of a sudden, everything that has to do with you seems so absurdly difficult? At least one of you is thinking clearly.
“Yeah, that would be fantastic.” He’s grinning hugely, totally unlike him but liking it very much. “Let me grab my coat.”
“Wait.” There’s a newly familiar breathless quality to your voice, and when Remus turns you’re already coming forward to meet him. Your palm slides against the stubble along his jaw as you stretch your neck, kissing him sweetly on the lips. “There,” you say, timidity shrouded beneath a good layer of happiness, “now we’re even.”
Remus laughs, loud and startled. He wants to be generous with you, he really does, but he still thinks you’re far from even. “I’m not sure about that, sweetheart,” he says warmly, pressing a brief kiss to the corner of your eyebrow, “but we'll get there.”
#remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin x you#remus lupin x y/n#remus lupin x fem!reader#remus lupin x self insert#remus lupin fanfiction#remus lupin fanfic#remus lupin fic#remus lupin fluff#remus lupin smut#remus lupin drabble#remus lupin oneshot#remus lupin one shot#remus lupin scenario#remus lupin imagine#james potter#sirius black#lily evans#marauders#the marauders#marauders era#marauders fanfiction#marauders fandom
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Imagine wearing Christmas lingerie for Abby & Ellie…
Abby the more serious of the two would be confused as to why you called her into your bedroom, that is until she sees you sitting on your shared bed wearing a red lace babydoll set with fuzzy white trim. She can’t help but let out a small laugh at your look surprised to see you make such a bold move. As she saunters over to you she questions “where’d you come up with this number baby?” Letting a smirk make its way across her face “wanted to give you an early Christmas present abs” you reply with mischief in your eyes. While she can surely see the humor in this situation to Abby there’s nothing funny about her pretty girl looking so ready to be taken and she wastes no time in doing just that. Let’s just say you slept plenty good that night having no trouble falling asleep even with your bubbling excitement of Christmas morning arriving soon.
Ellie is much less stoic and often up to her own antics so you knew dressing up in skimpy red satin (complete with a little bow for her to untie) would be the perfect Christmas Eve surprise. When Ellie comes home from a long day of last minute gift shopping to find the fireplace lit and you on the couch in your pretty little set she swears her heart stops. She doesn’t even bother with a greeting before she’s rushing to kick her shoes off by the door and practically sprint over to you. Before you can even blink her lips are on yours in a kiss even hotter than the blazing fire. When Ellie finally finds the restraint to pull back she takes a moment to admire you, analyzing every last feature as if she’s committing this to memory. “els you know you can untie this little bow here” you whisper meeting her gaze as it lands back at your face and then down to your bust where said bow awaits. Soon enough that little bow and the rest of your clothes are long forgotten as Ellie spends the night indulging in you and enjoying her present.
a/n: Merry Christmas to those who celebrate and happy holidays! I hope you enjoyed this Christmas Eve treat ;)
#ellie williams#abby anderson#abby anderson x reader#ellie williams x reader#abby anderson smut#ellie williams smut
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Jingle of The Bells
jake "hangman" seresin x reader
Summary: Your little girl is worried her father won’t make it home for Christmas.
Notes/warnings: this is the same family from the Oh, Baby universe, but it stands alone as well :) Mostly Fluff, a dash of angst.
This is for @sailor-aviator's Christmas Writing Challenge (my word is Bells)
Words: 2386
Your daughter was so much like your husband. You’d say too much if not for the fact that you loved them deeply. But there came a lot with their similarities. Double doses of determination, wit, and control. So, not unlike your husband, your little girl wanted to be the one to call the shots. However, circumstances didn’t always allow for that, and in those cases, Eve struggled the most.
---
“Mama, he’s supposed to be home!”
Eve’s arms were wrapped tight around your neck as her wails echoed in your ear. You held on to her snuggly, her little legs tucked into the open space between your criss-crossed seated position on the floor.
Until you’d joined her, she’d sat in the same spot all night, the teddy bear from her father settled in her lap as she stared at the front door. Despite the colored lights strung around your home, the pile of presents for her and her baby brother from Jake’s mother, grandmother, and team, and the cookies waiting to be decorated, Eve hadn’t moved.
Every five minutes she would ask you the time, and each answer you gave her broke your heart right along with hers. She was too young to remember that Jake’s return schedule wasn’t always a guarantee. You were used to not making plans on the day you were originally told your husband would be coming home to you because promises in his line of work didn’t exist. There were no promises he would be gone only as long as he initially believed, no promises he would return on time, no promises he would return at all. But for so long Eve was spared all of that. The one time she remembered her father leaving, he did manage to come back when expected. She had never faced that disappointment. Until now.
“Sweetie, it’s not Daddy’s fault,” you whispered. “I promise you he wants to be with us and that he’ll be home as soon as he can.”
“But it’s Christmas!”
Christmas Eve, actually, but to your daughter it was all the same. She had expectations. Cookie decorating, and milk pouring—a skill she’d asked Jake to help her perfect, not wanting to spill a drop for the reindeer. There was a letter she wanted to write to Santa, thanking him for bringing her Daddy home, which he had not, only adding to Eve’s bitterness. And it didn’t do her any good that before Jake left, she had also begged for a Christmas Eve pajama party where you all dressed in matching flannels, her baby brother included, and read a story before bed.
Jake had done his best to promise those things to Eve, and in the same moment, with a single look at you, had silently communicated the very real possibility that none of it might happen. You knew it, expected it, and didn’t blame him for it, but it didn’t change that your little girl was in pain and her father wasn’t by her side to make it go away.
“I know. I know, Sweetie,” you said, gently rocking her back and forth. But your soothing could only be so effective, and for the night, she wouldn’t be able to take much more. “I think it’s time for bed now.”
“Why?” came out nasally, her crying having stuffed up her nose.
“Because you’ve been up for too long. You woke up hours earlier than you usually do and you didn’t take your nap today.”
She pulled her head back from the crook of your neck to look at you, and you wiped away the salty liquid from under her lashes. “But what about Daddy?”
“Daddy will be home soon. He’s just a little late, but that’s ok.”
“It is not.”
“It is, Sweetie,” you said, your own tears forming and beginning to blur your daughter’s face. “He’s trying so hard to be here, and that’s what matters.” When one of them fell, Eve’s finger rose to meet the droplet as it slowed its descent down your cheek. You grabbed her hand and rubbed the tear off her fingertip. “Come on, let’s go lay down.”
This time, with exhaustion setting in, she didn’t fight you, but she did wiggle from your hold to stand up on her own. Then she used the last of her energy to rush over to the coffee table where the small set of jingle bells she’d been dangling in front of her brother’s face to elicit his giggles was lying. Jake had bought her those bells last Christmas and immediately regretted bringing such incessant jingling into his home.
Swallowing back your remaining tears, you watched as Eve wrapped her fingers around the velvet cord that kept the bells in a bunch before making her way into the hall and draping the cord over the knob of the front door.
You nodded and stood. Her tears were not quite dried, and you knew she was desperate to keep her eyes on that door, but she still took your hand when you reached out for her.
“I’ll tell you if I hear them,” you said before lifting her in your arms to carry her up to her room.
---
In her weakened fight against sleep, Eve failed. When you finally had her tucked in her bed, passed out and releasing soft snores, you returned to the living room where you wrapped yourself up in a blanket and stared at the flames dancing in the fireplace.
You did your best not to fall apart in front of your daughter, but Jake being gone ripped you to pieces as much as it did her. It didn’t help that his return was no less anxiety-inducing than his departure. The occasional unpredictability allowed your mind to wander to undesirable scenarios that, at this point, you knew weren’t likely, but the thought of them still terrified you.
Jake was fine, though. You believed it, knew it. He was safe. The next person to open that door would be him, it was just a matter of when, and hoping it would be before the holiday was over.
---
The clock had reached midnight only a handful of minutes before your eyelids grew heavy and begged to close. You fought sleep but, much like your daughter, reached your limit and succumbed. The consistent crackling of the fire combined with the warmth of the blanket lulled you slowly but effectively. It was too quiet and peaceful to resist, until a jingle clanged against another jingle which together thumped against something thick and solid.
Your body jolted as you heard a muttered “Why so damn loud?”
“Jake?” you called, tossing the blanket aside and running toward the door. He barely had his duffle on the floor and his key out of the lock when you slammed into him.
His arms were around you in an instant, slightly lifting you off the ground as his nose tucked into the crook of your neck. “God, you feel good,” was muffled in his deep voice, vibrating against your skin. His arms tightened. “So good.”
Your feet met the floor again, and with your hands on his cheeks, you guided his head back so you could press your lips to his. Your moan greeted his. Then you sighed into the kiss and melted further into his hold. No matter how many times you said goodbye, you were always relieved to find him the same as when he left. The feel of him, the taste of him, the chills you got when his hands wove into your hair—he never returned as anyone other than your Jake.
He gave you two more pecks, then one final long kiss before he broke it to breathe, allowing his forehead to rest against yours while his chest expanded and deflated and expanded again to take in the air you’d stolen. “I missed you, Honey.”
A tear forged a cold trail down the flush of your cheek and slipped into the seam of your lips. “I missed you, too.”
Jake pressed a kiss to your forehead before meeting your eyes. “How are the kids?”
“Needing you,” you said as he wiped away the wet river from your skin. “Eve thought you weren’t going to make it home in time.”
Knowing your husband, it took only the barest of shifts in his stance, his brow, his eyes, for you to see his heart was breaking right along with Eve’s. He turned his head toward the staircase that led to the bedrooms of your home, his daughter’s in particular.
Inching up on your toes, you softly kissed the line of his jaw and, somehow, for the first time, noticed he had a little bit of stubble. His last day or two must have been exhausting if he hadn’t gotten a chance to shave. Likely, everyone was in such a rush to get home to their families that some basic rules went out the window. Your kiss traveled up to his cheek.
“It’s ok, baby,” you whispered. “You’re with us now.”
“Did she cry?”
“She’ll forget all about it when she sees your face.”
Jake lightly hummed, unsatisfied with the state he’d forced upon his daughter. Without letting another beat pass, he took your hand, led you to your daughter's room, and eased her door open.
The glow emitting from Eve’s new plane nightlight—an early Christmas gift the Daggers had sent from overseas—highlighted her sleeping face, and her delicate features were so peaceful you’d never have known she was devastated a few hours prior.
When you had let her open the gift from the team, you of course told her who it was from right away with a huge smile splitting your face. She was so excited as she pulled at the bow and shredded the paper that she laughed louder than you had heard in quite some time. Her eyes went wide and she hopped up on her feet to fly the plane around the room. She giddily showed her infant brother—who received his own nightlight in the form of a train so the gifts would be unique to each child—before she plopped down on the carpet in your living room to examine every detail of the elaborately designed light.
And then she began to sob.
She sobbed for missing her daddy and aunts and uncles; for missing the many times Jake had taken his family to see the planes he flew, which closely matched the shape of Eve’s gift. She sobbed until you took her upstairs for bed, helped her plug in the light, and told her a story of her daddy seeing that plane and that train and immediately thinking of his baby girl and little boy.
That was only three weeks ago, and Eve’s angst had grown with the passing days. But the little light helped her rest at night as long as she completed her ritual of crouching down in front of the radiating glow and whispering a soft “goodnight Daddy” before settling into bed.
It did help for a while, but it didn’t cease the daily return of her tears. And this night, fairly so, was by far the worst. Her disappointment made the light its least effective since she’d received it.
Jake stepped into the room and took a seat at the edge of her bed. “I shouldn’t wake her,” he said as he brushed a blonde curl out of her face. From that light touch, Eve stirred, but then she stilled again, releasing a soft breath.
Your husband sighed right along with her. You knew how badly he wanted to wrap her up in his arms and hold her tight. He needed that. He could see her in front of him, and from those inhales and exhales, could hear her, and he could feel the soft curls of her hair, but nothing compared to feeling her little heartbeat beating against his, or hearing her sweet voice, or seeing her bright smile. That he’d have to wait for morning to truly greet his daughter after months away was an ache you would never know. Yes, you ached for him when he was gone, and you knew he did for you, but it just wasn’t the same. This was his child, a piece of him that he’d gone without for so long. It was a powerless feeling. She was right there, but being the father he was, Jake wouldn’t disturb her for his own sake.
Carefully, Jake leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Merry Christmas, baby girl.”
Your lips curved into a smile. “Would you like to go see our son?” Another one of his children that he’d undoubtedly refuse to disturb, no matter how much he wanted to see the little pair of eyes that matched yours staring up at him.
Jake nodded, gently squeezing Eve’s tiny hand. He was about to stand when you both heard a soft, “Daddy?”
Your heads whipped in Eve’s direction to find her fists rubbing at her eyes. Her eyelids fluttered as her vision adjusted to the darkness, but when she saw the darkened figure sitting by her side, Eve didn’t second guess herself. She kicked at her covers and leapt across the bed with the speed and agility of a bunny rabbit.
“Daddy!”
Jake chuckled as he caught her. “Hi, baby girl.”
Little hands reached up to his face to verify his realness. They ran up and down the scruff she’d rarely ever seen, making Jake’s cheeks contort in funny shapes, and then she grinned. “You came home.”
You couldn’t see all of Jake’s face, but you heard his sniffle as he tugged your daughter closer to his chest. “Of course, I did.”
“Mama said you would.”
“Well, Mama’s usually right, isn’t she?” he said, turning to look at you and confirming the redness that was brightening the green of his irises. He winked before returning his attention to his daughter.
Eve nodded vigorously then threw her arms around his neck, squeezing with all of her might. “I like Santa again.”
“When didn’t you like Santa?” Jake asked as he rubbed his hand up and down her back.
Eve pulled back. Her smile was still in place as she patted the tops of his shoulders with both hands. “Today," she said. "But you are home so he’s ok.”
---
A/N: so i have another christmas challenge fic coming that is Rooster x reader, which is my very first Rooster fic so hopefully I do alright. Then my focus will be on The One I Want and some Thorn (Expendables 3) fics :)
tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @ssa-sadboi @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @sailor-aviator @penguin876 @rogersbarnesxx @nani-kenobi @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @emilyoflanternhill @wretchedmo @shanimallina87 @crowsreadsarahjmaas @mamachasesmayhem @sky2nd @eloquentdreamer @jessicab91 @rosedurin @novagreen04 @memeorydotcom @purplevortexx @sgt-barnesveins @books-are-escapes
#jake seresin#jake seresin x reader#top gun maverick#jake hangman seresin#jake hangman seresin x reader#top gun hangman#jake seresin fic#jake hangman seresin fic#top gun#jake hangman seresin x y/n#jake seresin fluff#jake seresin angst#tgm#tgm fic#christmas fic
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blue christmas |older!dilf!eddie munson x reader|
prompt: a look at two very different christmases in eddie's life.
apart of munny's merriest masterlist which you can read here!
contains: sad!eddie. parent guilt. divorce. gina. mainly just very lonely christmas angst but some fluff at then end.
Fourteen Years Before
“Hey, have a good one, Munson!” Phil waved a gloved hand, locking the body shop for the night. “Have a Merry Christmas!” Even Christmas Eve held its fair share of wrecks, cars breaking down in the snow, plenty of business even on the holiday.
“Yeah, you too!” Eddie waved back, hands shoved deep in his utility jacket, heavy and warm for the colder months. His hands fiddled around with the cigarette carton in his coat pocket, pulling out his keys with the cigarette, letting it hang from his lips as he slid into the truck.
The roads were empty, cleared of any traffic on his way to his apartment. The twinkling lights in the yards, strung merrily and proudly for all to see mocked him, a dull reminder of what wasn’t waiting for him at home.
Home. He used that term loosely.
The apartments were cheap for a two bedroom, close to Brielle’s school and Eddie’s work. Gina had got the house in the divorce. Eddie didn’t want it, couldn’t afford it on his own after she’d cleared out what little he had. His thumb rubbed over his ring finger out of habit, meeting the calloused skin there instead of the gold band he wore for eight years.
Eight years. Eight Christmases spent with Gina, with Brielle. They were far from perfect. He and Gina usually fought from Thanksgiving to New Years Eve, but at least he had a tree. At least it was decorated, and there were presents under the tree.
At least he wasn’t alone.
Eddie’s heart ached, a jabbing pain that spread through his chest, leaving his throat stinging with an uncomfortable burn. He knew the divorce was the right thing to do, when your seven year old asks Santa for her parents to stop fighting, it’s time. Still, he didn’t think it would hurt so badly, that it’d be this lonely.
That he’d miss it this badly.
Maybe he should have toughed it out, should have ignored Gina so he wouldn’t be sitting here, in a pitifully empty apartment, in a deafening silence, nursing a beer on Christmas Eve.
Eddie had put up a ‘tree’, a lighted spiral cone shape he found at a second hand store, after Brielle commented on his lack of decor. “You don’t like Christmas anymore?”
She’d made him an ornament in art class, which he couldn’t hang on the spiraled lights of the tree, so he taped it on. She was happy with it regardless, grinning and telling him about how her art teacher let her make two. “Since you and mom are divorced.” Eddie’s stomach turned. There was something so sickening about hearing his little girl say those words in such a cheery tone. Made him feel like a complete sack of shit.
Eddie looked at the clock on the stove, flashing bright, green numbers back at him. He worked later than expected, it was nearly eight, but knowing Brielle she was far from ready for bed- Santa's coming tonight. Eddie’s chest tightened at the thought- he was missing that.
He grabbed the phone, punching in the numbers carefully, he knew them by heart. The phone rang, and rang.
“Hello?” Gina’s huffy voice came over the other line.
“Hey, Gina.” Eddie said awkwardly. “I, uh, I just got home. I was gonna talk to Brielle if she’s still up.”
“Yeah, she’s still up.” Gina huffed, and he could practically see her eye roll, snarled lips. “You were supposed to call at seven.”
“I know, I know. I just- I got busy at work. Had to stay overtime.” Eddie ran a hand down his face, knee bouncing.
“Great. She’s gonna be even more wild now. She’s already losing her damn mind- Brielle, get out of your stocking or I’m throwing it away!” Gina pulled the phone away, shrilling. Eddie’s lips curled, hearing the cackle in the background, she was his daughter.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-” Eddie started.
“-Just, whatever. Don’t get her fucking wild, Eddie, I swear to God.” Gina snapped. The phone rustled. “Here.” Gina’s voice was muffled, before the phone settled.
“Hello?” The little chirp on the other end had Eddie’s heart swelling.
“Hi, Munchkin.” Eddie grinned softly, voice lilting higher. “Merry Christmas.”
“It’s Daddy!” Brielle shrilled. “Hi, Daddy. Merry Christmas.”
“Are you still up?” Eddie sighed softly. “You’re supposed to be asleep. Santa’s coming soon, Brie.”
“I’ll sleep in a little bit.” Brielle huffed lightly, she sounded like her mother. “When are you comin’ home? I saved you one of the Snowman cookies before Santa eats them, and I have reindeer food to put on the roof. It has glitter in it this time so they can see better.”
Eddie paused, words choked around the lump in his throat, heart sinking low into the pit of his stomach.
“Daddy?” Brielle asked, pulling the phone back. “I think it got undone-”
“-No, no, I’m here, Brielle.” Eddie’s voice was tight, hand pressed into his eyes. “Um, I-I’m not coming home tonight, remember?” A ragged breath shook out of his chest, and he hoped she didn’t hear it. “I’m coming to get you tomorrow afternoon, and we’re going to Grandpa’s.”
“Oh,” Brielle’s tiny voice was filled with disappointment, it tore Eddie’s heart right out of his chest. “Even on Christmas?”
“Yeah, baby. Even on Christmas. Remember me and mom told you, you’d get two Christmases. One with each of us.” Eddie tried to keep his voice steady.
“But not together?” Brielle muttered, a complete turn around from her previous excited tone.
“No, not together. I’m sorry, Brie.” Eddie pulled the phone away, taking a deep breath in to keep his emotions in.
“That’s ok.” Her tone told him otherwise.
“But I’ll see you tomorrow, ok? And you can tell me all about what Santa brought you, and then we’ll go to Grandpa’s and you’ll have even more gifts to open.” Eddie hoped his tone was convincing.
“Ok.” Brielle muttered sadly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Daddy.”
“Yeah, you will, I promise.” Eddie swallowed the lump in his throat, nose burning with tears. “Good night, Brie. Dream of those sugar plums, alright? Love you.”
“G'night. Love you.” Brielle repeated solemnly.
The phone rattled for a moment, Eddie clearing his throat lightly. The line settled for a moment and he waited for Gina’s voice. A harsh dial tone came instead.
Eddie tried to ignore the hurt that pounded in his chest. He felt grimy, gross, and disappointed in himself. He felt alone, most of all.
Shaky fingers punched the buttons on the phone, knee bouncing as he lit a cigarette, pulling the ashtray closer to him on the kitchen table. “Hello?” Steve Harrington’s accommodating tone came through the line, a loud screech of children’s laughter in the background.
“Hey, Steve.” Eddie cringed at the shake in his tone, swallowing. “Sorry to bother you, I, uh, I just wanted to-”
“-Daddy! One present, please?”
“Yeah! Just one! One!”
“Hang on,” Steve huffed. “No, ok? Mom said no, and you know she’s the boss. You better stop, alright? It’s not too late to get on Santa’s bad list. I’ll call him right now and tell him to skip the Harrington residence-”
“No!” A chorus of cries in the background made Eddie smile, his chest aching even more with an unfamiliar feeling.
Tiny stampedes of feet cleared in the background. “Sorry, it’s a zoo over here, Ed.” Steve snorted lightly.
“Yeah, no, I get it.” Eddie laughed lightly, stopping himself gently. “Well, actually, I don’t. That’s, uh, that’s actually why I was calling.” Eddie exhaled deeply, rubbing his forehead. “I, uh, I just called Brielle, and she’s-”
“-Steven! I need help in here!” Nancy’s voice pierced through the phone, sharp even in the background.
“Fuck. Hey, Ed, can I call you back? We’re trying to make cookies, and they’re decorating the baby.” Steve sighed. “I’m telling you, these kids are insane. I’m about to rip my hair out, and I still gotta make a fuckin’ dollhouse.” Steve’s voice dropped to a low whisper.
“Yeah, no, I get it. Don’t worry about it, man.” Eddie felt his waterline flood. “Go be with your family.”
“Alright, I gotta go. Merry Christmas, Munson.” Steve hummed over the line.
“Merry Christmas.” Eddie muttered, the dial tone cutting him off again.
He leaned back in the dining room chair, cigarette burning between his fingers. Alone.
Present
“Eddie!” You called, wrangling the squirming one year old in your arms, Delilah was determined to get to the shiny presents, squealing and cackling. She was just crawling, thankfully, toddling but not as sure, but she was fast.
“Ed, get the phone!” You yelled, the trill of the landline Eddie still had around filled the house. Brielle in front of you, in pajamas that matched her little sisters, phone dangling from her grasps.
“She’s gonna open a present tonight.” Brielle giggled, recording her sister happily.
“Yeah, or tear the tree down.” You grumbled, rolling your eyes. “I told you a candy cane was too much.” You glared at Eddie playfully. He’d snuck her tastes of a candy cane earlier at your parent’s house, laughing at how her eyes lit up.
Eddie grinned, snagging the phone off the hook. “Hello?”
There was a silence, the tiniest hitch of a breath on the other line. Eddie frowned, looking down at the caller id. “Hello?”
“Is Brielle there?” The huffy, snide of a tone that he’d know anywhere. Gina. Why she was calling him on Christmas Eve, he wasn’t exactly sure, but he had an idea that it was due to Brielle’s silent treatment towards her after Gina’s rage filled rant about Lilah’s birth.
“Hello, Gina. Merry Christmas to you.” Eddie clipped, eyes rolling. “Yeah, she’s here.”
Gina paused, and Eddie could picture her even now, nails tapping against the table furiously, anxiously. “Well, can you- can I talk to her?”
Eddie’s head turned, his gaze meeting Brielle’s. She shook her head, brows raised nearly in offense at the suggestion. “Uh, Gina, she-she’s kinda busy right now-”
“-Right.” Gina scoffed, tone harsh but Eddie could hear it, the traces of hurt lingering in the defensiveness. “Guess she likes the child bride more than her actual mother-”
“-Alright, Gina.” Eddie huffed. “You have a good one. Merry Christmas.”
“Wait!” The shrill in her tone, desperate and alarming.
Eddie waited, holding the phone back to his ear. Gina huffed, taking in a deep breath. “Can you… Can you talk to her?” Her voice was small, quiet. “Just-Just tell her I want to see her, and I have gifts for her, and-and,” There was a pause, a shaky breath. “Tell her I miss her and I love her?”
Eddie’s chest ached for her sympathetically. He knew she deserved it, that Brielle was probably in the right with her cruelty. Still, Eddie sympathized with her. The bitter loneliness of being alone during the holidays.
“Yeah, Gina. I can do that.” Eddie nodded slowly, his voice dropping. “I’ll, uh, I’ll tell her.”
“Thanks.” The word was clipped, drowned in disdain and followed with a sniffle.
“Have a Merry Christmas, Gina.” Eddie sighed softly, hanging up the phone with a final click.
He turned back to the living room. You and Brielle were still desperately trying to distract Lilah from the shining ornaments with her toys, rattling and shaking them in front of her so she squealed, only to turn back to the tree.
Eddie smiled, scooping up the baby, tossing her in the air gently so she screeched in laughter. “She’s never going to sleep.” You grinned warmly, starry eyed watching Eddie cuddle your baby.
“Nah, she’ll sleep in a little bit.” Eddie shrugged, snuggling her close to his chest. Delilah turned into his touch, face pressing into his chest, rubbing her face sleepily into the soft cotton of his Christmas pajama shirt that matched with his girls.
His brows shot up, grinning triumphantly. You snorted, rolling your eyes lightly. “Alright, Santa. What kind of cookies do you want?”
“Whatever kind you wanna make me, bunny. ‘M not picky.” Eddie hummed, rocking Delilah against his chest gently.
“I bought the Snowman sugar cookie ones.” Brielle smiled brightly. “I can make them.”
Eddie’s chest filled with warmth, looking down at the tiny girl in his arms, heavy lids pulling shut with sleep, knuckling at them. The lights on the tree seemed brighter and brighter as the years passed. A real tree this time, filled with ornaments and memories hanging on the branches, room for more as the years went on.
#oneforthemunny#munny’s merriest#munnysmerriest#older!dilf!eddie munson#older!eddie munson x reader#older!dilf!eddie#older!eddie munson#older!eddie#dilf!eddie munson x reader#dilf!eddie munson#dad!eddie x mom!reader#dad!eddie munson#eddie munson x reader angst#eddie munson x fem!reader angst#eddie munson angst#eddie munson x fem!reader fluff#eddie munson fluff#older!dilf!eddie munson angst#tw gina#eddie munson au#eddie munson au#steve harrington#nancy wheeler#eddie munson christmas#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x reader#eddie x reader#eddie munson x fem!reader#oneforthemunny blurbs#eddie munson blurb
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the shakespeare exhibit - part 9
pairing: tara carpenter x reader
summary: in which it's time to celebrate the holidays
warnings: implied smut
word count: 2900+
author's note: long awaited but finally here
previous part | next part
"Seriously?" Tara asked as she stepped into the living room, a mug of hot chocolate in each hand. Her eyes were trained on the television, which was displaying the Elf title screen in all its fluorescent-glory. "We watch this every Christmas Eve!"
"Exactly!" Chad said, twisting around to grab one of the mugs from her hand. His face was alight with joy, his eyes wide and sparkling. "It's a tradition now!"
Tara glanced at Mindy, who shrugged. "Don't look at me. I wanted to watch Krampus," the girl said.
Chad huffed. "And I told you I'm done with horror movies. We already lived through one." He took a sip from his drink, and his eyebrows raised the moment the hot chocolate touched his tongue. "Tara! This is actually pretty good."
Tara frowned. "'Actually'?"
The boy glanced away sheepishly. "Well, you know, you have the tendency to--"
"Burn things," Sam deadpanned from behind as she exited the kitchen, mugs in her own hands. She handed one to Mindy, who immediately started gulping it down, and then turned to Tara. "The last three times you tried to make anything, our fire alarm went off."
Well maybe we shouldn't have such a sensitive alarm, Tara thought, furrowing her eyebrows. "Whatever," she scoffed, rounding the couch to sit between the twins. She pulled the blanket off Chad and covered herself, ignoring his whines. "Let's just watch Elf."
Mindy reached for the remote, and just as she was about to hit play, there was a knock on the front door. Every tensed slightly--an involuntary reaction none of them seemed to be able to shake--and Sam stood, edging toward the door slowly. She looked out through the peephole, and Tara watched as she sighed with relief, her shoulders relaxing. She undid the locks, opened the door, and Danny popped his head into the living room.
"Am I late?" the man asked as he shuffled inside.
"Perfect timing, man," Chad answered, holding his hand out. Danny dapped him up quickly before settling on the armchair, leaving room for Sam to squeeze beside him. "Okay," Chad started, lifting his legs to put his feet on the coffee table, "Elf time."
Almost as soon as Mindy pressed the play button, there was a thud against the front door. Again, everyone sat up a little straighter. Tara swallowed, her eyes trained on the doorknob as it twisted slightly.
This is it, she thought. Ghostface is going to attack us on Christmas Eve, because why the fuck not?
There was another thud, softer this time, and Danny glanced around the room, resolving to open the door. Everyone's attention was on him as he crept up, looked through the peephole, and then chuckled.
"You've got a present outside, Tara," he said, undoing the locks that Sam had redone and opening the door.
A present? she wondered. It's too late for UPS to be here.
There, in the hallway, beneath the flickering yellow light, stood you, your arms weighed down by bags and a small red spot forming on your forehead. You grinned at the group sitting inside.
"Hi!" you greeted, lifting your hands to show off what you had brought. "I have presents!"
Tara scrambled to stand, hastily placing her hot chocolate on the coffee table, and launched herself into you. You stumbled back a few steps before setting the bags on the floor and wrapping your arms around her waist.
"Hey, pretty girl," you muttered into her hair.
She pulled back, staring up at you with a gleaming smile. "What're you doing here? I thought you were stuck in Zoom calls with overseas family members." She had invited you to the Christmas Eve excursions, but you had declined for the aforementioned reason.
You giggled. "I was, but we ended a bit earlier than normal, so I thought I'd come over." You glanced over the top of your head at the others in the living room. "I hope I'm not intruding."
"The more the merrier, buddy!" Chad exclaimed, holding his hand out as Tara twisted around to stand beside you. You simply stared at him for a moment before taking his hand in your own and shaking it.
Tara couldn't help the laugh that escaped her. Stupid, she thought. Chad seemed to be thinking the same thing as he tilted his head yet accepted the handshake.
As you pulled away from Chad, Tara glanced up at you. "Why did you knock so menacingly?" she asked, and then she looked up a little higher at the red mark on your forehead. "Did you use your head?"
You smiled shyly and nodded. "My hands were too full," you admitted. You perked up, whipping around and grabbing the bags you had left by the door. "That reminds me: I have gifts for you guys."
Tara watched you, sighing dreamily. She's so perfect. She'd be such a good mom. She shook her head. No baby thoughts, Tara. Now's not the time.
"This one's for you, Mindy," you said as you handed the girl one of the paper bags. "This is for you, Chad." He greedily accepted the package you held out to him. "Sam, for you." The bag was small and thin, and Tara didn't have to watch to know that it was another bottle of wine. "Uh, Danny, I didn't know you'd be here."
The man shook his head and waved you off. "Don't worry about it."
"Oh!" You reached for your wallet and drew out a few hundred-dollar bills. Tara's eyes widened. Who the hell carries that much cash on them? she thought, before shrugging and thinking, I guess when your parents have as much money as hers do, it doesn't even matter. You held them out to him. "Here! Merry Christmas!"
He simply stared at you, unblinking, for so long that it started to unnerve Tara. Hesitantly, like you would lean down and bite him if he moved too fast, he reached out and took the money from your hands.
"...Thanks," he said. Sam rolled her eyes and leaned toward him, whispering something in his ear. Tara heard the tail-end of the statement: "....family's rich." Danny nodded his head and smiled. "Yeah, thanks. Merry Christmas, kid."
You grinned happily and then turned back to the twins, waiting for them to open their presents. Mindy glanced at Chad, who shrugged and started ripping into the package you had handed him. He pulled out a pristine, red football jersey that had 'Bosa' on the back. Beneath the numbers was a large scribble.
"Holy shit," Chad said, his eyes practically bulging out of his head as he stared at the jersey. "You got this signed by Bosa?! The Bosa?!"
You nodded, giggling. "Yup. Or, well, my dad got him to sign it, but same thing."
Chad leaned back and sighed happily. "Man, you are such a great addition to his family."
Your smile widened at his words, and Tara thought you might start bouncing up and down as she looked at you, a soft smile on her own face. God, I agree with Chad for once, she thought. It's a fucking Christmas miracle.
"Okay," Mindy began, hesitantly opening her own bag. "I don't think you can top that, but let's see what's in here." With careful hands, she pulled out a framed poster, and her jaw dropped so wide that Tara briefly thought it had broken. "No fucking way! Absolutely no fucking way!" She spun it around so that everyone else could see, and even Tara was shocked to see a Stab poster signed by all of the original cast members.
"It was a little difficult tracking everyone down, but we got there eventually," you said, beaming. "I hope you like it."
"Like it? Y/N, this is the best gift I've ever gotten in my entire life!" Mindy practically shouted. Her face fell quickly. "No one tell Anika that. I promised her that the necklace she bought was the best thing ever."
A chorus of laughter erupted throughout the room, and while everyone was distracted, you turned to Tara. "I have something for you," you said, tilting your head in the direction of her bedroom. "Can we...?"
She caught on quickly, nodding fervently, and grabbed your hand, shouting out a, "Watch the movie without me!" to which Sam responded, "Door open, Tara!" Yeah, right, she thought.
Tara pulled you inside and, much to the muttering complaints of her sister, shut the door behind you. She led you to her bed, where you sat on the edge of it and pulled something from your pocket.
"It's just something small," you started, glancing away shyly, "because your real gift is coming tomorrow, but I just...I wanted to give it to you today." She smiled at your nerves, thinking, She's just too cute. Too fucking cute.
She sat beside you. "Okay," she said. "But, just so you know, I only got you one gift."
You giggled and held the gift out. It was a small envelope, tiny enough to have fit in the pocket of your sweatpants, with your scrawl on the front. Tara furrowed her eyebrows as she looked at it and then took it from your hand. With slow and steady fingers, she opened the envelope, shivers running up her back as she realized what it was.
"It's your museum ticket," you said, watching her carefully, "from the day we met. Or, well, it's a copy of your ticket, since, you know, you have--or, had--the original." You shrugged and bit your lip. "I thought it would be a cute memento, but if it's dumb, you can just--"
She leaned in and shut you up with a soft kiss, trying to put all of the love she felt for you into it. When she pulled away, you were a blushing mess, and your words had died on your tongue.
"How did you get this?" she asked, looking back at the ticket.
You scratched at the back of your neck. "After I realized this was something"--you gestured between the two of you--"I scoured through the computer one day after work looking for your last name. There aren't very many Carpenters, so it wasn't too difficult."
That does it. Official. She's the very best thing that's ever happened to me.
"I love you, you know that?" Tara murmured softly.
You grinned. "Yeah, I do." You kissed her. "And I love you, too."
She grinned at you. "Since my door's shut, let me give you part of your Christmas gift," she said, and you blushed at the implication. She kissed you again and pushed you onto your back, easily hovering over you. "Merry Christmas, baby."
* * *
The sun shining in Tara's eyes woke her up. She turned over groggily, pressing her head into your neck, and you grumbled a little, shifting as you were woken up by her movements. Before even saying a word, you leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
"Morning, pretty," you said, your voice low and scratchy and filled with sleep. Tara melted at the sound, just like she did every time the two of you had a sleepover.
"Merry Christmas, baby," she offered, and your eyes shot open.
"Holy fuck." You sat up quickly, leaving Tara scrambling and confused as you reached for your phone. "Fuck, Tara!" You slipped out of her bed and immediately started getting dressed, stumbling around her room.
She sat up, the sheet pooling around her waist. "What?"
"We're gonna be late!" You pulled your shirt over your head. "Shit, the boys are gonna be so mad that they have to wait to open their presents."
Tara fell onto her back, groaning. This is gonna be a long day, she thought.
* * *
You bursted through the front door of your house, gifts nearly falling from your arms, and were immediately greeted by your brothers.
"Merry Christmas!" you shouted, and the boys swerved around you and headed straight for Tara.
"Tara! Tara!" Eddie cheered. "What'd you get me?"
"Please tell me you didn't get him any cologne. He's been spraying that stuff like mad recently," Nate said, elbowing his brother.
How did I forget how...energetic...they are? Tara wondered. "I'm not telling you," she said to Eddie, and then turned to Nate and said, "But no, it's not cologne."
Eddie frowned. "Darn."
"Oh, thank goodness!" Nate cheered. "Come. Mom and Dad are waiting by the tree. We've been up for hours waiting for you two."
"Hours and hours and hours," Eddie added, grabbing Tara's wrist and tugging her toward the family room.
Hours and hours and hours, she mocked in her head, and then she felt a little bad for mocking a child.
"Why've you guys been up for so long?" you asked as you followed close behind, the gifts blocking your sight slightly. Tara had offered to take some from you, but you had refused.
"Lia woke up early," Nate started.
"So we all woke up early," Eddie finished.
"Plus, grandpa was making pancakes," Nate said.
"And you know how his pancakes are," Eddie added.
When the four of you finally reached the living room, your parents stood.
"The prodigal daughter returns!" your father exclaimed, just as he had when he saw you at Lia's birthday party.
You set the presents down and rushed forward, pulling both of them into a hug. "Hi, guys!" You pulled back and they stepped up, taking Tara into their arms one by one. Even your grandmother offered Tara a hug. "So, presents?"
"Yes!" Nate shouted.
"Finally!" Eddie cheered.
Needless to say, the process of opening presents was chaotic—so much so that, just for a split second, Tara regretted saying yes to coming. You and the adults were calm, carefully unwrapping your presents and ooh-ing and ahh-ing at each one. The boys, on the other hand, left a trail of little pieces of wrapping paper and gift bags and bows, and Lia ended up spitting up everywhere at one point.
This is it, Tara thought at one point as she watched your family. This is every Christmas for the rest of my life. And when the boys opened their presents from her--an edition of an Emily Dickinson book for Nate and a game of COD for Eddie--and basically tackled her as their thank-you's, she thought, Maybe it's not so bad. Yeah, she decided as they cheered and yelled and started bursting out into random Christmas songs, this isn't so bad.
Finally, after everything had finally finished, and there were just two more presents left to give, the rest of the family excused themselves to make lunch in the kitchen. It was you and Tara sitting by the tree alone, neither of you having exchanged your own gifts yet.
"Do you want to go first?" you asked, shifting where you sat, your eyes flickering around.
She's nervous, Tara realized quickly. Awe, she's nervous!
To try to quell your worries, she nodded. "Sure." She grabbed her gift for you, which was neatly wrapped with a little bow on top. Unfortunately for her, she had Chad to thank for the wrapping, but she'd never admit it as you complimented her on how crisp the paper was.
With careful hands, you unwrapped your present, revealing a small ring box. You furrowed your eyebrows as you opened it, and Tara gulped as she watched your eyes widen and your jaw drop.
"Oh my god," you muttered. "Oh. My. God." You pulled the ring from its box. "It's a signet ring! It's Shakspeare's signet ring! I've been looking for one of these for forever!" You slipped it onto your pinky, and Tara sighed with relief when it fit. You brought your hand closer to your face, inspecting the ring. "It even has the heart loop!"
"So, you like it?" Tara asked.
You looked up, a huge grin pulling at your lips and your eyes sparkling with pure joy. "I don't even have the words to describe how much I love it, Tar. Thank you."
She smiled. "Merry Christmas."
You glanced back down at the ring. "Where did you find this?" you asked.
Oh, shit. Should I be honest? God, I should. Damn it. "Uh, I drove up here a few days ago and your brothers and I went shopping. Nate saw it in that antique shop downtown."
You chuckled. "You asked my brothers to help you?" Your voice was light, teasing, and Tara blushed up to her ears.
"...Yes."
You cooed, reaching out to run your thumb along her cheek. 'That's adorable, baby."
"Shut up," she mumbled. "Your turn."
"Okay. Right. My turn." You picked up the little box left beneath the tree and handed it to Tara, breathing out shakily as you did. "I hope you like it."
She was a lot less gentle than you were, eager to know what you had gifted her. She tore through the wrapping paper and tilted her head as a tiny cardboard box revealed itself. When she opened it, she found a gold necklace inside, an emerald pendant dangling from its chain.
"This is beautiful," she said, looking up at you. "Like, seriously beautiful. I don't even know what to say." She lifted it from the box carefully, letting the pendant dangle in the air.
"It was my great grandmother's," you rushed out, and Tara's eyes shot toward you. "It's passed down to each first born in the family on my mom's side, and we're meant to give it to...to the person we want to spend forever with."
Forever. Tara grinned. I like the sound of that.
"I know it's still early in our relationship," you continued, glancing away, "but I'm confident in this." You looked at her, a soft smile playing on your lips. "I'm confident in you."
She shot forward, wrapping her arms around your neck and engulfing you in the tightest hug she could manage. "I'm confident in this, too," she admitted. She pulled back, holding the necklace out to you. "Help me put it on?"
With ease you clasped it around her neck, and when she turned back around, she swore your eyes were sparkling.
"It looks perfect," you said breathlessly. "It's perfect."
You're perfect, she thought. This is perfect. Everything's perfect.
"Hey," she said, calling your attention. "I love you."
You smiled. "I love you, too, Tara. Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas, Y/N."
#museum tara#tara carpenter x reader#tara x reader#tara carpenter#jenna ortega x reader#jenna ortega#jenna x reader#scream 5#scream 6
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*ੈ🌩️‧₊˚— through the storm, there’s always you + katsuki bakugou.
૮˶ᵕ ༝ᵕ˶ა synopsis — the one in which katsuki bakugou hates the winter, until you bring him a gift that changes his mind for the better.
⭑ warnings — please read + mdni ! characters aged up, fluff, strangers to lovers, mentions of injury, mentions of hospitals, pregnancy & birth ( non - descriptive ), winter babies, wholesome family content, not beta read ! - fem!reader, pro-hero!bakugou.
⭑ words — 1.8K.
⭑ notes — hi !!! merry christmas if you celebrate and happy holidays to those who don’t !! i hope you’re all keeping well and safe. here’s a little drabble for your troubles since i’m working on something longer that’ll hopefully be out in the new year !! so this isn’t beta read and i hope you enjoy !! mwah - m.list ✩
katsuki had always hated the weather around christmas time.
as a kid it meant being stuffed into itchy, scratchy sweaters that matched with stupid deku’s and being forced into what seemed like hours of pointless christmas card photo shoots tucked in next to the green haired, green eyed wimp. it meant mitsuki dragging him out of the comfort of his all night sheets early on December 25th to swap presents— her loud, irritating voice booming out Christmas carols with the words sung wrong as his pops set up a hearty breakfast and plucked wrapping paper from between the spikes of a young bakugou’s blonde hair.
back then, mitsuki would pull the cruel joke of putting coal in the younger’s stocking for a laugh and in response katsuki would hide all of her hurts to make it look like she had none.
in middle school, katsuki spent most of his winter break running over school choices— learning the curriculum inside and out so that he could get into U.A. friends, family gatherings, festive…none of them mattered to him as much as his aspirations did, but he still helped masaru decorate the house and put up the tree— lit the fire because he didn’t run as hot as other people during the colder season. he hardly saw his friends, his posse, his entourage, whatever they were. they didn’t understand what it was like to work for something, to want to succeed…to make sacrifices. these were people katsuki didn’t need.
when christmas roll around at UA, katsuki felt like he was really part of something for the first time. his friends, kirishima and kaminari especially, begged him to cook the dinner— getting permission from aizawa after school to buy the ingredients, clinging onto his arms to keep him warm while asking him what went in what, affectionately pissing him off.
there’d been a gift exchange too, and he’d tried to brush it off when his group of little misfits had presented him with a few exclusive allmight merchandise that hadn’t been collectible since he was a kid. ‘thanks,’ he’d mumbled, brushing an arm over his eyes in away that covered up the tears brewing in them. ‘idiots.’ aside from the celebrations and the small twinkle of happiness being surrounded by his classmates brought him— winter still sucked for bakugou. he’d discovered his quirk didn’t quite work the same, that he’d need to train a hundred times harder to be just as efficient as his peers during the flu season if he were to succeed and become a top hero like he’d promised himself as a kid. his hero costume required form fitting sleeves and a collar up to his neck that made him think back to that time where that villain had almost ended his life and he wasn’t quite strong enough to escape its reach.
bakugou fucking hated the winter because of it.
the Christmas season starts to become even more intolerable once katsuki breaks onto the scene as rookie pro hero dynamight. he gets stuck with all the bullshit patrols like the Black Friday sales and Christmas eve last minute rushes for gifts because he’s not quite high enough on the ranks for the ‘real’ work yet. it’s fine, the blonde tells himself, anythin’ to get higher up in the ranks. spreading the holiday spirit isn’t exactly his forte but the singles without families to go home to for the festives seemingly love spotting the desirable and explosive hero stalking the city streets, and it does wonders for his reputation too.
after bakugou’s first year as a rookie, do things pick up. he gets his first villain attack on december 24th, a simple robbery that he gets to handle all on his own— the prick’s quirk is fast moving, strong and nearly wipes the blonde out in one clear shot, sending him flying into the nearest building while other rookies evacuate the scene.
“m-mister…uh, dynamight? a-are you okay?”
your voice had been soft, your face the first thing he had scene when his vision realigned. blood trickled down the roundness if your cheeks, features aglow from the fires his quirk had set to your building— your humble little tailoring shop that he’d noticed was usually buzzing with customers on patrol. “i uh— you hit your head pretty hard sir a-and there’s a villain outside— i don’t think you can fight it like this—“ you’d tried to explain in a hurry, the situation now obvious as bakugou’s head lay in your lap.
groaning, he’d wanted to pull away from you get back up and take the damn villain down but before he could even move it’s quirk had sent another blast in the direction of your precious shop. one minute, bakugou’s life is flashing before his eyes and the next an invisible shield flies up in front of you both, protecting you from whatever impact had been coming. “‘m goin’ back out there,” bakugou told you sternly, gathering himself back up. there was no way a civilian should be doing his job, he should be protecting you, not the other way around. “stay fuckin’ put, till i get back. then we’re goin’ to a hospital.”
turns out, you were great at following orders, by the time bakugou had taken out the perpetrator— you were more than willing to go with him to the hospital to get your injuries checked out. he stayed with you the entire time, he owed it to you at least. you’d saved his life, and sacrificed your shop but uttered not a word of complaint in response. and in the winter days that followed the incident, he visited and brought flowers and sat with you— learning about you, learning to love you right into the new year.
bakugou’s spirits towards winter and Christmas had certainly changed since then. well into his thirties with achy joints, silvering hair and a stomach that’s a little less toned than it used to be— dynamight sits perched on the highest of buildings, a com mic pressed into his slightly muted ear. “ai’ght fuckers, let’s get this over with. the wife’s given me only a couple hours b’fore she can’t hold on any longer.” he grunts to his fellow heroes, ready to take down their annual Christmas robbery.
it couldn’t have come at a worse time, katsuki promising you that he wouldn’t be working on the holiday for the sake of your kids— who needed their father just one day out of the year. you’d wrapped him up extra tight, a homemade scarf you’d worked on in the last few months slipped softly around his neck as you scolded him for taking up over time when he should have been with you, with his family.
“you got it kacchan,” izuku chuckles from his end of the line— positioned some ways away, his eyes also on the target. “operation kacchan’s home for Christmas is a go.”
“agreed. i do not like it when mrs.bakugou is angry.” todoroki chimes in plainly, also accompanying the childhood duo on their mission.
“then keep yer eyes on the fuckin’ target— the sooner we can get my ass home t’what really matters this Christmas!” the blonde scolds his long time friends, rolling eyes eyes fondly as he sets his eyes on the target who‘d ripped him away from his family.
“daddy! you’re late!”
katsuki’s oldest just barely looks up from her phone— a gift from last year— as he rushes into the hospital waiting room still decked out in his ashy hero gear. kayako bakugou still accepts the kiss to her forehead from her father and the ruffle to her blonde curls once he’s close enough. she has his hair, the colour of his eyes but the shape of her features are undoubtedly yours— the perfect blend of two people completely and utterly in love.
his vermilion gaze shoots to his son, kuzki— a quiet little boy who’s not quite like the rest of the bakugou bunch but equally as loving and as precious to dynamight himself. “sorry ya guys have to be here on Christmas Day, s’late too,” the man pinches his kid’s cheek, kazuki squirming happily, albeit a bit sleepy. “we can open presents later, after i see momma.”
“s’okay papa! nana mitsuki got us candy!” he squeals, the eldest bakugou hiding her nose in her magazine at her mention.
“ma!”
“what?” she huffs back, nodding her head towards the door. “you don’t have time to have a go at me, katsuki. your wife is waiting for you.”
both of the bakugou kids get a smooch on their foreheads, and mitsuki the middle finger ( discreetly and in his head because he won’t risk getting his ass kicked by his own mother in front of his offspring ). he stalks his way into your private hospital room, keeping his clunky steps unusually quiet as he spots you resting in your bed.
“you’re lucky, she just fed and was about to go down for a nap, but it seems like she was waiting for a certain someone.” you coo but you’re not looking at your husband, instead at the tiny bundle of joy wriggling about in her swaddle, laying in your arms.
the elder blonde approaches the two of you, curling an arm immediately— soothed by your warmth which sends the chill of winter straight out of him. “she?” bakugou questions, too tentatively for a man with such a misshapen and rough exterior. you pass the little baby girl off to him, letting him take in the scent of baby powder and fresh linen. “god, she’s pretty. just like her momma, huh?”
“think that’s all you, kats, you know these bakugou genes wait for no one,” you breathe your words out in exhaustion, but a smile stays strong in your face like the blistering winds outside. “thirteen hours of labour and she still couldn’t wait for daddy.”
“‘m sorry i couldn’t be there, stupid fuckin’—“ the baby stirs in his hold, growing fussy as if she already knows the signature forbidden word of the bakugou household. “stupid freakin’ deku held us up at the mission ‘n i tried my best t’get here..” bakugou loses his words, staring at his his newborn princess with so much love in the world— she’s tiny in his arms, gargling sleepily as he bounces her, standing to walk the room with his new little girl and showing her the snowfall.
the three of you are entranced by the first glimmer of the crystalline weather— the room swimming with a contrasting warmth that katsuki can bear to stand because it’s not a frosted winter. it’s a perfect love. his own oasis away from the cold. “s’okay kats, she just wanted to be the best christmas gift you could have asked for,” you murmur. “our perfect little christmas gift.”
katsuki bakugou hums in agreement, watching eyes the colour of your own but the shape of his flutter with tiredness for the first time being out in the new world. and now with his little treasure, his darling daughter and absolute labour of love— katsuki bakugou is able to state his reason for finally finding appreciation for winter after all this time.
“merry christmas, princess.” he says to her wistfully. “and to you too, m’love.”
“merry christmas, kats.” you whisper back, your voice to him like a call through the storm.
#bakugou x reader#bakugou x you#bakugou fluff#bakugou imagines#bakugou fanfic#bakugou fic#bakugou drabbles#bakugo x reader#katsuki bakugou x you#bakugo x you#katsuki bakugou x reader#bnha fluff#bnha x reader#bnha imagines#katsuki bakugou imagine#bakugo fluff#bakugo imagines#mha x reader#tteokdoroki#✧ ₊˚੭ — writing#mha fluff
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LAST CHRISTMAS !!
a/n: this was sitting in my brain and I dont know if i like it but HERE ANYWAYS its also so short SRRY-
pairing: Leon kennedy x Gn!reader
cw: just sad reader ?? with angst
-
It had been a year since you last saw Leon.
A tragic ending when he decided that he didn’t want to spend Christmas with you, but instead wanted to chase after Ada.
You spent months picking out the perfect present for him, carefully listening to everything he said to ensure you picked the best possible present.
He always whined about not liking Christmas, that he hated decorations, parties, and overall just everything about it.
(He changed his mind after he saw how happy it made you)
You had your own traditions, baking special desserts, adding your family’s topper for your tree, and decorating the inside and outside of your house.
It may have been small things, but it was nice to do regardless.
You wanted Christmas to be special for Leon.
It didn’t matter this year though.
He didn’t even have the decency to explain why he left, just a stupid excuse about another important mission.
He slipped up and mentioned her, saying they had the location and were close to catching her.
That’s all it took for him to immediately leave, rushing out the door and not looking back, not even uttering a pathetic goodbye.
You didn’t cry for him to come back, no loud tantrum about him leaving, nothing.
You figured this would happen.
He was antsy recently, couldn’t sit down properly without bouncing his knee up and down, not able to look you in the eye.
Classic Leon behavior.
You rolled your eyes at that, you hadn’t even given him a second thought and here he was popping back up in your brain again.
It was the anniversary of him leaving.
-
Christmas Eve.
-
You had the bright idea to go out today, go to the mall and get yourself a gift, walk around town for a little bit, and just try to enjoy this time of year on your own.
It was annoying seeing those couples together.
Holding onto each other and laughing, playing in the snow with their kids, watching the same lights as you.
You couldn’t blame them for being happy. It wasn’t exactly your fault that you were slightly bitter.
Well, maybe it was.
But your bitterness was internal, hurting no one but yourself.
You audibly sigh at that.
“..when did Christmas get so boring…” you thought to yourself, turning the corner and bumping into someone who felt like they were in quite a hurry.
“Watch it-“
You say, having to look up at the stranger that almost knocked you over.
“Oh, sorry!” They say, giving you a nervous look.
“I didn’t mean to bump into you, are you alright?”
You pause for a moment, you didn’t know if it was your brain just linking things together or you were secretly hoping it would happen?
But a small part of you hoped that stranger would be Leon.
You say you’re alright and keep on your way, nodding to the person before stepping out of their way.
You didn’t miss him.
Not one bit.
But you missed the memories you had together.
You wonder if he feels the same way, walking around whatever place he’s in, thinking of you?
Not being able to celebrate Christmas without you.
You find some comfort in those thoughts, only temporarily.
-
You could do things without him, always have. It wasn’t any different with him being gone, you still live your life like normal.
You did stay in the same place, opening the door to your two bedroom apartment.
One is your bedroom, the other now a storage place.
You decorated it like normal, your tree in the corner with all your favorite ornaments and lights, a stocking hung above the fireplace, a mistletoe hanging on the doorway to your kitchen.
You weren’t gonna let sadness win this Christmas.
Not this time.
You prayed he wouldn’t come back, because you knew you would let him back in.
Those sad puppy dog eyes he does, begging to come back.
You hated that you couldn’t tell him no.
Maybe wouldn’t fits better.
You could say no.
But you wouldn’t.
You’d invite him in with open arms, completely ignoring everything he did to you last year.
Who’s Ada? He’s in my house now! :)
But that didn’t happen.
You stare at the Christmas tree for maybe hours, burning those beautiful bright lights into your eyes.
Nothing in your brain but thoughts.
You blink, finally coming to your senses.
Your eyes drift to the bottom of the tree, a perfectly wrapped present.
The gift tag reading Leon.
You could never bring yourself to throw it away.
You just placed it in the spare room, cleaning it off before placing it back under the tree.
It was almost sad to see.
-
But you didn’t care.
-
Merry Christmas, Leon.
.
..
…
I miss you.
-
word count: 0.8k
#cybunii#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy#leon s kennedy#ada wong#leon scott kennedy#leon x reader#leon kennedy fanfic#leon s kennedy x you#leon kennedy x you#leon kennedy angst#i hate this#too short
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kissing santa claus (kth)
summary: Taehyung may think you're a little bit of a Christmas Grinch, but maybe helping him start some Christmas Eve traditions will convince you of its magic.
pairing: Taehyung x Reader
rating: generally sfw, but there are some suggestive bits of dialogue (that being said, minors dni)
genre: established relationship au, pure fluff
word count: 1.6k
a/n: a couple days late, but i wanted to get this one out (it's therefore unbeta'd and minimally edited)! i hope everyone had a wonderful holiday! <3
MASTERLIST
“Tae. Babe. This is insane.”
“How can you say that?”
“Because she’s barely even two. She won’t remember this.”
“Maybe with that attitude she won’t.”
You roll your eyes at him, biting your lip in exasperation. “I get that you want to start with the Christmas traditions early, but don’t you think that maybe this,” you gesture up and down at his elaborate Santa Claus costume, complete with boots, belly, and a large, white beard, “might be a little too much?”
He tilts his gaze down, assessing his current look. “No.”
“She’s asleep, babe. She won’t even see you.”
“I need to get into character.” His eyes narrow, lower lip jutting out in a pout. “I didn’t realize I married the Grinch.”
You grant him another endeared roll of your eyes, giggling on the inside at how adorable he looks, and wave a hand in concession. “Fine, fine. What's on the agenda, Mr. Claus?”
“That's more like it,” he says, rubbing his hands together before beginning to tick off items on his fingers. “Cookies, footprints, presents. Ooh, and hot chocolate!”
“Again, she's asleep–”
“That last bit is for us.” He adjusts his beard, which keeps shifting askew as he speaks. “Okay, to the kitchen!”
He leads you downstairs, past the rows of family pictures in the hall and the banisters wrapped in garland. The house only gets more festive as you go, bows and snowmen, tiny Santas and elves adorning nearly every surface. And in the living room, barely fitting under the ceiling, is one of the tallest Christmas trees you've ever seen, every inch of it covered in lights.
It’s been mostly Taehyung's doing, the smaller decorations finding their way into your home as early as September. When you teased him, noted that it wasn't even Halloween yet, he'd claimed innocence, saying that it must've been the elves sneaking in at night. You'd decided to roll with it, especially seeing how happy your daughter was the day after–Taehyung holding her in his arms and pointing out the snowmen one by one as she clapped her little hands together.
A daddy's girl through and through.
Taehyung beelines for the plate of cookies and milk that he'd set out with her before bedtime, taking one of the lopsided-looking reindeer that they'd baked yesterday and popping it into his mouth with a flourish. His cheeks puff out like a hamster, and you have to resist pinching one.
“How is it?” you ask.
“Is tasty,” he garbles, picking another one up to offer it to you. “Here.”
You bite into the sugar cookie, savoring the way it almost melts in your mouth. “Wow, they came out great!”
“Our girl is quite the baker,” he says, and even through the beard, you can see his boxy smile.
“She contributed a ton, I'm sure.”
An idea strikes you as you're left with only a tiny piece of cookie, and you press it between your fingers, scattering the crumbs across the plate like constellations. Taehyung gazes at you quizzically, an eyebrow quirked in question.
“For dramatic effect,” you say, and he immediately brightens, leaning forward conspiratorially.
“You're getting the hang of this, Mrs. Claus.”
You giggle at him as he moves to the fridge, pulling out a carrot and crunching the vegetable between his teeth.
“Can't forget the reindeer,” he explains. “They're an integral part of this operation.”
“An operation? What is this, the mob?”
“Y/N, Y/N.” He shakes his head like he’s disappointed in you–a teacher about to impart wisdom. “Santa visits millions, nay, billions of households all in a single night.” A glove-clad finger waggles in front of your face. “You think that happens without the highest caliber of logistics planning?”
You purse your lips, trying to hold in the laugh that so desperately wants to escape–you don’t want him to think you’re laughing at him. He’s just so…endearing. “Why do I feel like you’ve done the math on how fast his sleigh must travel?”
“Over four-million-seven-hundred-thousand kilometers per hour,” he says without missing a beat, placing the half-eaten carrot on the plate and leaning over to grab a baking pan from a nearby cabinet. “Now grab the flour and meet me in the living room.”
The overhead lights in the living room are off, but the tree is more than enough, glowing in the corner like a beacon. And while the rest of the decorations throughout the house are fancy and neatly curated, the ornaments littered around the tree are a hodgepodge of poorly-crafted at-home projects. A few weeks ago, Taehyung found a DIY kit of dozens on the internet and spent an entire weekend putting them together with your daughter, their giggles echoing off the walls for hours as they made them at the kitchen table.
The result was the most beautiful tree you’ve ever seen.
Taehyung places the baking pan on the floor and snatches the bag of flour out of your hands, sprinkling a generous amount of the white powder into the pan below. Positioning himself by the fireplace, he gently presses his boots into the cooking vessel before creating a pattern of footprints leading towards the tree.
You tilt your head to the side, regarding his work. “Okay, that’s actually pretty cute.”
“Right?” His smile might be brighter than the tree.
“And you’re gonna–”
“I will take care of vacuuming it up, yes.”
“Cool, cool.”
He loses the boots after that, depositing them in the adjacent bathroom and disposing of the flour and pan in the kitchen; you spot bright green socks dotted with round Santas poking out from under his too-large pants. When he returns to the living room, he gives you a quick, “Wait here,” before skipping up the stairs.
Only to come back with an absolutely monstrous sack of presents.
It barely squeezes down the staircase, and you jump in to help him maneuver, turning the bag this way and that until he’s managed to drag it into the living room, both of you out of breath. The thing must weigh two tons.
“Did you buy more stuff?”
“Couldn’t resist,” he wheezes, hands perched on his knees. “And one of them is a gift for you that’s really a gift for me.”
“It’s Christmas lingerie, isn’t it.”
He winks. “The gift that keeps on giving.”
The two of you work together to unload the boxes until there’s a tiny mountain of presents under the tree just waiting to be unwrapped. You’ve always loved this part–the promise of tomorrow morning’s excitement finding its way into the air at the sight of wrapping paper and bows. And with Taehyung dressed up as the Big Man next to you, you have to admit that it does feel a little more magical.
“Ready for our grand finale?” he says with a glint in his eye once the stockings over the fireplace have been filled.
“Lead the way, Mr. Claus.”
Back to the kitchen you go, where Taehyung whips up mugs of hot chocolate for both of you, the aroma making the whole house smell as sweet as he is.
“I learned this at the North Pole,” he jokes, twirling a candy cane in each mug before handing you yours. The ceramic warms your hands in the most wonderful way.
“To the magic of Christmas?” you ask, and he grins, seemingly about to clink his cup with yours, when a cry sounds from upstairs.
In sync, you set your mugs down on the countertop and hurry to your daughter’s room where she’s standing up in her crib, rubbing at her eyes and whining.
“Shhh, it’s okay,” you coo, gathering her into your arms and swaying back and forth. “You can go back to sleep.”
But she’s already caught sight of the other figure lingering in the doorway, and she raises her arm sleepily to point a tiny finger at him. “San-tah.”
Taehyung’s eyes widen to the size of saucers, and suddenly he’s shuffling forward. When your daughter’s arms reach out for him, you pass her off, and she immediately snuggles into the fur on his coat, instantly soothed.
“San-tah,” she mumbles again, and it’s only a few moments in Taehyung’s arms until she’s back to sleep, a bit of drool slipping onto his shoulder.
He sets her down in her crib, murmuring a soft, “Merry Christmas, sweetie,” as she turns over, and the two of you exit the room as quietly as possible, closing the door with a muted click.
With the hush that’s fallen over the house, the dim lights in the hallway, and the smell of chocolate still drifting its way from downstairs, a complete sense of peace washes over you–the world outside frozen for a moment.
Taehyung pauses in the hallway, pulling you in close. “So, have I shown you the magic of Christmas?”
“Mmm, I might need a bit more convincing,” you tease. “Anything else on your list?”
“Just one thing,” he says, and points upwards.
Pinned to the ceiling above your heads is a sprig of mistletoe, tied off with a bright red ribbon.
He kisses you deeply, his lips soft against yours, and it makes you feel even warmer than the mug of hot chocolate did. But when you get a mouthful of synthetic beard, you pull back with a frustrated growl.
Taehyung, however, misunderstands the sound. “Oh, does the Santa thing do it for you?” he asks. “Because you can open that one present early if you want. You’re on the nice list–I checked.”
You lean in close, playfully tugging his beard down so you can give him one more chaste kiss. He can have this, you think. After all, it’s Christmas.
“Go get the present, lose the beard, and meet me in bed, Mr. Claus.”
a/n: pls consider liking/reblogging/commenting if you enjoyed! :)
#taehyung x reader#taehyung x you#taehyung fluff#bts x reader#bts x you#bts imagines#taehyung imagines#taehyung fic#taehyung fanfic#bts fluff#taehyung#bts fic#bts fanfic
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In Another Life
Masterlist
Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x Alternate Universe!Reader
Summary: When the making at the heart of the world steals you from your own universe and drops you into the fictional country of Ravka you’re thoroughly bewildered. But this is an opportunity for you to right every wrong - and hopefully save one life in particular.
Word Count: 60.5K - COMPLETED
My Masterlist • Series Playlist
Read on AO3 HERE
Part One
One moment you’re going about your usual day, the next you’re in Ravka - the fictional country in a fictional universe. When you realise that the story you know by heart hasn’t even begun, there’s only one person you can think of going to.
Part Two
After a restless night of sleep, you wake with too many thoughts in your mind. The contents of the General’s war table provide an ample distraction, and soon the man himself joins you.
Part Three
You and Aleksander journey to Kribirsk, where everything starts to become real for you, as your plan is finally set in motion.
Part Four
Accompanied by your new recruits, you and Aleksander return to the Little Palace, and soon settle into a comfortable routine. But nothing ever stays the same for long.
Part Five
Alina is presented to the king as the sun summoner, and from that point onwards you and Aleksander become increasing busy - and apart.
Part Six
An unexpected visitor arrives with some good news, and Aleksander makes a earth-shattering discovery.
Bonus Scene
As your first interaction with Baghra occurs, a wounded Aleksander returns from a mission, and you have no chance to ponder over her opinion of you.
Part Seven
The search for the stag takes your group north into Fjerda, but it’s after you return to Os Alta that a surprising event occurs.
Part Eight
The Winter Fete goes smoothly, a perfect evening followed by a foiled assassination. A few days later, you and Aleksander journey into the Fold.
Part Nine
After a dramatic arrival into West Ravka, your group travels to Os Kervo, and you recruit a pirate privateer to join you in the search for the sea whip.
Part Ten
The hunt for the sea whip has begun, but a number of obstacles stand in your way, demanding more from you than you ever thought possible.
Part Eleven
Your near death experience has taken a toll on you, which forces Aleksander to come to a realisation.
Part Twelve
A successful return to Ravka prompts you to share warnings of the future with Aleksander, and a new (but not unfamiliar) character invites himself into your schemes.
Part Thirteen
Slowly the pieces of your plan for the Fold come into place, but thoughts and fears of the future continue to haunt you.
Part Fourteen
Ravka’s seat of power changes, and Aleksander makes a discovery that sends you both north in search of his sister.
Part Fifteen
As Alina is about to bring down the Fold, Aleksander suggests a theory that lifts your hopes.
Part Sixteen
Together, you and Aleksander journey to the monastery of Sankt Feliks. To mend the tear at the making, a sacrifice from one of you is required.
Part Seventeen
With the remains of the Fold vanquished, the people celebrate. Together, you and Aleksander work to establish peace in Ravka and a safe haven for your Grisha.
Bonus Scene
Alternate Ending
Until I Found You - IAL (Aleksander’s Version)
Aleksander isn’t expecting to find love in this lifetime, that is until you arrive. - A collection of scenes from In Another Life from Aleksander’s perspective, as well as a bonus scene.
-
Post-In Another Life
Future Uncertainty
Lingering insecurities rear their head now that everything has been resolved, and Aleksander encourages you to share your fears. (set mid-part seventeen)
The General’s Crown
In an attempt to escape the attention of being a living saint, you retreat into the fields and create flowers for the local children. It isn’t long before your husband finds you.
Christmas Eve
Its your second Christmas in Ravka, your first with the country at peace and Aleksander as your husband. Together, you have the perfect Christmas Eve.
The New Year
It’s New Years Eve, and the first time you’re celebrating with Aleksander as your husband.
What the Future Holds
Immortality suits you well, and your new life with Aleksander is better than you ever could have imagined.
#in another life au#aleksander morozova#aleksander morozova x reader#the darkling#the darkling x reader#the darkling au#shadow and bone au#shadow and bone x reader#shadow and bone
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Christmas
Pairing: Ot8 stray kids × Gn!Reader (individual)
Genre: fluff scenarios
Description: activities Stray Kids would like to have with you on Christmas day
Warnings: I repeat the word "Christmas" way too much, mention of food at Chan and Felix's
A/n: I don't like this but I really wanted to write something for Christmas so here it is. Next year will be better
Bang Chan - dinner
Just sitting with you in a table full of the most delicious foods he could ever think of feels like a dream. He also gets to talk to you about everything and anything all at once, reminding each other about the whole year. He realises this year was particularly good, especially with you in it. So he soon starts to talk about his plans for the future, the one he hopes he can share with you too. He has a guess that the next year will be pretty good
Lee Know - snow
It doesn't matter if it snows a lot of other days besides Christmas, you both will be out in the streets when it's 25th of December. And if it snows right at its night, you can bet that he'll be running to get out of the house asap. For a second it feels like you both are the only ones in the world and the sky had decided to snow exclusively to create this moment. Just making a snowman, creating a snow fight or even just seeing the snowflakes fall from above might be one of the prettiest moments in Minho's life. But he doesn't think it's all because of the weather.
Changbin - gift giving
He knows Christmas is way more than just gifts, but he'd be lying if he said that he didn't like to gift people. Especially gifting you. He loves your reaction the most. He likes how excited you get, how you try to guess what the present is and your smile when you open the box. The happiness and gratitude in your eyes is the biggest gift he could ever receive.
Hyunjin - exploring the city
He'd take you to the best places in town, the prettiest ones, so the magic of this date could feel more visible. Having Christmas lights all over the place, those huge Christmas trees and perhaps even fireworks seems like a day he'd remember. But hopefully you remember the places you visited more than him so you can tell him how it was later, because he was too focused at looking at how your eyes shone to pay attention to any firework in the sky
Han - Movies
Watching movies in your shared bed with matching pajamas from the Christmas eve till the actual Christmas. It seems perfect to him. Some might think it's basic or not memorable at all, especially for a first time spending the holiday together, but he disagrees. He loves how simple it is. Just the two of you loving each other in silence and enjoying each others company seems great. You might even fall asleep hugging one another, but that just makes it more magical in his opinion.
Felix - baking
Not cliche if it's true. This man just LOVES baking with you. Cinnamon biscuits, pies, brownies or whatever to be honest. What exactly you are baking doesn't matter so much. He just loves to be there in the kitchen with you: flour all over the place and a smile in both of your lips. The fact that it's Christmas, such an important holiday, and you chose to spend it with him just makes it more cheerful.
Seungmin - Christmas tree
Decorating the tree would be so fun next to Seungmin. You both together would have the smartest of ideas on how to design the tree this year. It would look genuinely pretty. And just trying to figure where to put each decoration and the beautiful result would be so domestic but also exclusive to him. He thinks he doesn't ever want to decorate another Christmas tree if you are not by his side
I.N - karaoke
You both would be singing Mariah Carey till 2 AM, I just know it. Jokes aside I think he would genuinely like to have a small karaoke night, Christmas themed. And even before/after that night he would probably be hugging you from behind and singing a sweet melody in your ear, which you'd later realise to be a Christmas song. It feels a little bit like a movie, one that he likes very much.
Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!
Dividers by @cafekitsune
#celi headcanon#stray kids#skz fluff#skz#stray kids fluff#stray kids soft hours#stray kids soft thoughts#skz x reader#skz x you#stray kids x reader#bang chan#bang chan fluff#lee know#lee know fluff#changbin#changbin fluff#hyunjin#hyunjin fluff#seungmin#seungmin fluff#i.n#i.n fluff#jeongin#jeongin fluff#felix#felix fluff#han#han fluff#Christmas special#Christmas
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Hello, for holiday fics, can i request MTMTE Bots X Reader Headcanons where its Christmas time and there's a gift exchange? Thank you!
MTMTE Bots X Reader - Gift Exchange
A/N - A-All of them?! There's… That's a lot of bots. Imma just pick a few, then if anyone wants more you can just ask me for them.
Warnings - None
Rating - T
Swerve
Swerve is far too nervous for this.
It's your first Christmas aboard the ship, and he is determined to confess his love for you. Like, he has spent every last second planning this for months.
Now that it's time though, he thinks he might purge his tanks.
What if you don't like his gift? Worse, what if you reject him? He knows you won't be mean about it, but... he doesn't want to spend his life without you. He really loves you, and nothing terrifies him more than his own feelings.
Still, here is the moment. You've given him your gift.
It was a crocheted blanket, so he'll be comfy on movie nights. When did you have time to make this? Oh wow. He presses the material to his face. It's so soft, and if he takes in some air, it smells like you. Of course it does... You've clearly spent ages making it.
Swerve hugs you and he holds on for a few seconds too long. You laugh amiably, and make a joke about being Christmas crushed.
Finally, he lets you go and bashfully presents you with his gift. It isn't wrapped very well. It must have been difficult for him, since it's relatively small. You can see where the tape has come up a few times, stripping the paper of some of its colour. All this just makes you smile more.
You tear open the gift, and it's a datapad, specially made to be human-sized. You flick on the screen and find that it's filled with music, in a specially arranged playlist.
Admittedly, Swerve doesn't know a whole lot about Earth music. He's more into TV and movies, but he knows how much you love music, so he really tried with this.
Moreover, the first word of each song creates a message, and it is a long message. It's a confession. You might have missed it, had the first word of each song not been highlighted.
You take a while to read what's written. Meanwhile, Swerve is stuck in limbo, feeling entirely sick. Part of him wants to snatch the datapad back and laugh it off like it was all a mistake or a stupid joke. Instead, he waits, trying to stop his servos from shaking by resting them on his thighs.
When you've finished reading his confession, you let your thumb glide over the first song, hitting play.
You smile, get to your feet, and approach Swerve.
"I love it," You say quietly.
Then, you kiss him.
At first, Swerve is completely taken aback. Then, his hands find their way around your back and he's holding you close, your first kiss to Nat King Cole's 'The Very Thought of You.'
Rung
Rung didn't actually want gifts. The only thing he asked for was an evening alone with you.
Normally, he's so busy with his patients, and everyone always wants time with the ship's only human, usually so they can ask you questions and place bets on what the answer will be - Rodimus is still pissed that he lost 100 shanix when you were asked what a colander was (Sufficed to say, his answer wasn't kitchen utensil for draining water).
So, that's exactly how you spend Christmas Eve with Rung. You're sat in his lap, laid back on the sofa while he reads to you from a book you chose.
His fingers gently glide over your head - You feel safe with Rung - loved - and you know that he feels the same when he's with you.
Despite that, you did get him a gift, and little do you know, he's got you one too. They will both wait for tomorrow however, as you relax into one another, with no obligation to anyone else.
The next day, you wake up atop the berth, and realise that you must have fallen asleep when Rung was reading and that he has carried you to bed.
Yet, he isn't there with you. You're just getting up when you hear him humming. Your shared hab-suite isn't like the others on the ship - it's the only one wherein the rooms are separate as if to recreate a normal Earth apartment.
So, upon getting up to explore, you find Rung in the kitchen - He's never been in here before, except when he's looking for you.
This is his gift and his surprise. He knows how much time you always put into cooking, and unfortunately, there's nobody else who could ever cook for you, which he has been led to believe is a normal part of human relationships and something most humans are grateful for.
It took a while to research the recipes, and even more time to find out what ingredients could be substituted. Moreover, Rung has spent months practising this, between meetings, and now, he's rather good at it - he always was good at following instructions and handling delicate objects.
So, your Christmas brunch is courtesy of Rung, and you make sure to tell him how delicious everything is, kissing him afterwards so he might get a taste of the wonderful meal he's made as his arms wrap around you and he presses you against the dining table.
Later, after a long, and frankly heated make-out session, you present him with his gift. It's a model ship of the only one missing from his collection - the Lost Light itself. His eyes light up when he sees it, all ready to be put together.
That afternoon, the two of you sit together and start building the miniature, all while listening to Christmas music which plays serenely in the background.
Megatron
Megatron is staring at you quite intensely. If you weren't used to him, you might think he was glaring at you.
Still, you feel like you might have done something wrong or that he hates your gift to him. It was after all, rather personal, and Megatron isn't a huge fan of PDA.
The gift in question was a song. As it turned out, Nautica was something of a musical prodigy, so with her help, you had written a song about Megatron - She had composed the tune, while you wrote the lyrics.
You assumed that by involving another bot, Megatron felt exposed; it was entirely possible that he didn't like the idea of someone else singing about him or your relationship with him.
You couldn't be further from the truth.
The truth of the matter was that Megatron loved the song. You had poured your very soul into it, and it was so much more than he could have asked for.
... And in return, he had gotten you a gift basket. Soaps, shampoos, lotions - His research had led him to believe this was the social norm on Earth. He couldn't give you that now!
How would that look? You had given him a piece of your soul, and he got you L'oriel "because you're worth it."
No. It wasn't good enough.
"Excuse me a moment, I need to retrieve something from my hab-suite," Megatron said coolly, before leaving you.
You deflated, feeling that all was lost, especially since Megatron took a good thirty minutes to return.
Yet, when he came back, he held out a datapad for you, mumbling an apology that it wasn't wrapped.
You swallowed nervously when he wouldn't meet your eye, and then you took the present reverently.
You flicked on the screen and found it open in a folder - "(Y/N)'s Poetry."
There were well over a hundred entries, all of them dedicated to you.
'The Radiance of a Smile', 'Promises of Forever', and 'Forgiveness of the Past', were just a few at the top of the list. Even more surprising was the fact that a great many of them were written before the two of you began dating. When you looked at the earlier entries, you saw how Megatron's feelings towards you had come about and evolved into something more.
You were speechless, yet on your face, Megatron was pleased to see that you knew how he felt for you, and that your love for him was just as much of a weight, though it was one you were glad to bear.
#fanfiction#fanfic#reader insert#reader#maccadam#transformers#mtmte#more than meets the eye#ll#lost light#the lost light#transformers idw#swerve#swerve x reader#rung#rung x reader#megatron#megatron x reader#gift exchange
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Having fun this Christmas? Need a break from all the running around and stuff to prepare or family to meet? Or maybe you need a little pick-me-up because we all know how tough this time of the year can be as well. Then dig right in.
And Even In The Quiet Night by KelpietheThundergod [General audiences, 7k words]
He couldn't answer with the truth when Jody had asked him, concern bleeding through her typical gruffness, “You okay, kiddo? Since when do you care about Christmas?”
He doesn't, of course, not really. It's just that Christmas is a widely accepted excuse to cook enough food for an entire baseball team, then eat too much and lounge on the couch surrounded by family and argue about which movie to watch. Or so Dean thinks. Really, it was just a stupid – it's not like Dean is lonely. Sam is here, Cas is here, and the others are – well, mostly not here. But really, it should be enough. Dean is a grown-ass man, he can deal with being alone on Christmas.
(Or, the one in which no one cares about Christmas but Dean)
Dance Real Close by Maleyah (Katherine_Kat) [Explicit, 5k words]
For the umpteenth time tonight, Castiel swallows and clenches his teeth, hard enough that he might just need a dentist appointment once this horrendous evening comes to its inevitable end and he has what he came for. Good thing the company has excellent health care. He forces his gaze into a faux-thousand yard stare, a wilful attempt to get lost among the many twinkling lights and ornaments. Just off of the shoulder of the man who is his current, last and most annoying obstacle.
Dean Winchester.
Dressed to the nines in a suit of snowflake white, he fits in at this high-end Yule Ball as if he hasn’t done anything else in his life.
Top of his class and generation, ten years Castiel’s junior, much too skilled for his own good at nigh anything from close combat to subterfuge to extraction, his competition, who is, for some unfathomable reason, flirting with Castiel on the mission.
From Your Secret Santa by ILoveLucey [Teen and up, 26k words]
Dean and Sam have had a tough year. Their dad died, leaving them parentless, and Dean has had to pick up the slack to make sure his little brother is fed, clothed, and has a roof over his head. To say that Dean is not in the Christmas spirit this year is an understatement.
That is, until Dean gets a secret Santa who wants nothing more than to make the brothers' Christmas a cheerful one. The mysterious gift-giver apparently plans to do that with twelve days of cheesy poems, dorky activities, and, okay, some actually really nice presents.
Dean hates to admit it but before the twelve days of Christmas are over his mood is effectively turned around. The only thing is, he's pretty sure his secret Santa is actually more of a secret admirer. It could be anyone from the Roadhouse trivia teams but there is only one person he wants it to be - his brown-haired, blue-eyed, oh-so-sexy best friend who has been there for him through everything and who he has a major, secret crush on.
Here's to Many More by wincechesters [Explicit, 15k words]
After a blowout at his parents' house on Christmas Eve, Castiel resigns himself to a lonely, miserable holiday. On his way home he finds himself at a dive bar, spilling his life story to the handsome, charming bartender he's just met. It's an unlikely set of circumstances, but when the bartender invites him to come home with him, Castiel says yes—and it looks like he might not be spending his Christmas alone and miserable after all.
I Love New York by followyourenergy [Explicit, 44k words]
When Dean’s brother can’t go on their planned trip to New York City, Dean goes alone. He meets Cas, a man who’s there to “do things differently” and invites Dean to do the same. Through their adventures, Dean expands not only his palate, but his idea of who he is, who he can be…and who he can be with.
Orna-meant to Be by MalMuses [Teen and Up, 5k words]
It's been a long year, but Castiel and his vampire boyfriend Dean have finally reached their first Christmas together.
The first of many, if Dean has his way.
A fluffy holiday timestamp in the Bat Dean 'Verse.
Snowy Blue by Kitmistry [Teen and Up, 3k words]
On the brink of a new year, Dean runs into an old friend.
The Prince Switch by teacass (Fushigi) [Teen and up, 12k words]
Castiel couldn’t see much in the dark, but there was a silhouette of a tall person standing in the room opposite of his. Judging from the depth of the voice, it must have been Dean Winchester, Jimmy’s best friend, sous chef, and co-owner of the bakery.
“Hello, Dean,” Castiel whispered. Even he heard it sounded way too official and too much like his princely self, so he quickly corrected. “I mean, hi. It’s just me. Go back to sleep.”
“What are you doing up?” Dean asked.
Oh, it’s nothing. I just snuck out of the palace in the middle of the night to switch places with your best friend, Castiel thought.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Castiel said out loud. “Too excited about the whole competition thing.”
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First Christmas
Pairing: Syzoth X Fem!Reader
Description: You and Syzoth celebrate your first Christmas together...
Warnings: Fluff! 💚
Word Count: 1k
A/N: I have been saving this for a little while now. In fact, it has been sitting in my queue for quite some time. 😅 I do plan on doing more lovely holiday fics after this as well, and not just for Syzoth. I hope you all enjoy this and Merry Christmas, everybody! ❤️💚❤️💚
Main MasterList: 🖤
Kassie's Angels: @mornandil , @bihansthot , @katiralovely , @queenkhepri , @blackbunnymayw , @simpforhotmaskedmen , @theleftkittycollection , @kiashines .
(If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know in the comments! 🖤)
𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐
"Wake up, my little pickle." I chuckled to myself as I shook my boyfriend's shoulder, eager to see him wake and stare up at me with those breathtaking green eyes once again.
But I only got an agitated groan in response. Syzoth was always quite difficult to pull out of bed. Once he was warm, he would stay in the same spot for hours upon hours, just soaking up as much heat as he could. The blanket nest he made for himself the night prior was no different.
But after a few more nudges, his eyes reluctantly opened to peer up at me with disappointment.
"A few more minutes..." He whined like a young child who wasn't getting his way.
I merely laughed at his behavior and shook my head. "Nope! It's Christmas morning! Time for presents!"
"You Earthrealmers never fail to confuse me with your traditions. This early just for for gifts?" He grumbled while getting out of bed.
His body visibly shivered when he crawled out of the covers. Despite the heat being on, two space heaters, and the thickest sweater I could find for him, Syzoth still could barely cope with Earthrealm's winters. The very thought of him leaving his nest of heated blankets made his skin chill.
Giggling to myself, I took his hand and pulled him to the living room, where our 7ft tree stood tall in the corner of the room with presents nestled safely beneath it.
We decorated it last night. He was scheduled to arrive in Earthrealm on Christmas Eve, so I decided to wait so we could do it together. I didn't mind. But I'll never forget all the confused questions that the Zaterran laid on me as we got it ready for Christmas.
"Why do you humans bring a tree into your home and hang all this shiny stuff off of its branches?"
"Do you at least make sure there are no creatures living inside first?"
"Why does a star go on top?"
Luckily, I did not need a ladder to reach the top of the tree this year, since Syzoth's 8ft Zaterran form towered over it. Though he acted confused as he carefully placed the star on the top branch, I could see a small hint of pride as he did it. It was like he was proud that he was completing the look.
When we both stepped back to admire our creation, I couldn't help but notice the child-like wonder in his eyes as the twinkling lights reflected in his irises. Much like they did now, as he slowly creeped into the living room to investigate all of the new differences that had changed overnight.
"So that man really was here?" He asked as he kneeled down by the tree to pick up a small gift in his big hands. He shook it lightly before asking with uncertainty, "What's his name? Ummmm... Sandie Claws?"
I burst out laughing at his assumption and then corrected him nicely, to not make him feel dumb, "Santa Clause. And... Yes... He did..."
After seeing the fascination grow in his eyes as I told him about the all-famous St. Nick, I couldn't bring myself to tell him that he wasn't even real. And since he had never experienced this holiday as a child, I just decided to go with it to humor the inner child that hid within the man.
A large smile spread across his lips as he looked up at me, almost as if he was waiting for the go-ahead to tear into the gifts before him. Chuckling, I nodded and got my camera ready.
After that, he placed the items on the coffee table and wrapped his arms around me in a tight embrace. It was the sweetest gift of all. The biggest grin was displayed proudly on my face as I snuggled into his touch.
The sounds of claws shredding paper and gasps of excitement filled the room as he revealed each surprise one-by-one. He held up the worms from the local reptile shop in my town, a scrub brush for exfoliating dead skin away while he was shedding, and a spray bottle to keep his skin moist when he didn't have the time to soak as I snapped the final picture for the Christmas of 2023 album.
"I hope you enjoyed it, pickle." I breathed as my heart beamed with happiness that I was lucky enough to be present for this milestone in his life—his first Christmas.
"We are not done, my sunshine." He then whispered in my ear before pulling away from me and reaching into his pocket.
My eyes widened in astonishment as I watched him pull a beautiful homemade necklace out. A gorgeous green gem pendant—that looked to be one from only Outworld—hung delicately on a thin silver chain. He placed it around my neck and planted a tender kiss on my cheek before whispering, "Thank you for making my first Christmas a special one."
My eyes teared up with joy as I felt the weight of the necklace on my neck and his cold skin brushing against mine. Though my emotions weren't from the gift, they were from the thought behind it.
He always knew just how to show how much he cared for me, and that was one of the many reasons why I was so grateful to know him, let alone be his partner. I knew for sure that Syzoth loved me, and I loved him just as much.
"Thank you." I murmured after turning around and hugging him one more time.
I held him so close and tight like if I were to let go and open my eyes, he would be gone, and I would realize that it was all fiction. But it was real. He was my destiny—my star.
He encased me in his arms again, completing the embrace. Later on, we would leave my house to go to Johnny's for Christmas dinner and his famous holiday party. But until then, it was just us in this beautiful moment that I would cherish forever.
𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐
#mortal kombat 1#mk1#mortal kombat reptile#mk reptile#reptile#reptile x reader#mortal kombat syzoth#mk syzoth#syzoth#syzoth x reader#KassieMortalKombatFanFics
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heyyy i was wanting to request! where reader and ellie has a kid and its christmas night, yall are putting the presents up and yall can hear your kid moving around in their bed and yall run to yalls room to not get caught, just a silly fanfic really! 😊
Christmas Shenanigans
Ellie williams x fem reader!
A/n: yes my anon ! At your service ! I don't particularly like this but I hope you guys do :)
My masterlist!
Warnings: none, just pure fluffyness, maybe some language but not much, just slightly flirtatious Ellie.
The warmth from the fireplace is one of the things keeping you happy and content. You were currently sipping some hot cocoa, sitting on the couch as Ellie approaches you. "She's finally out, we can start whenever." It was currently Christmas eve and Ellie had just put your daughter down for bed. "Little mites incredibly excited." She says with a smile etched onto her face, plopping down on the couch, next to you. You smile also leaning into her touch. "When should we get the presents out here?" You look over at the tree, you guys were waiting for Autumn to fall asleep. "We could do it now, speedily." You nod, going to get up. "What time are we going to see Joel in the morning?" You inquire. She also gets up. "Well we would probably be there at around mid day, he's putting on a lunch for the fam."
She goes to your guys room which was thankfully on the other end of your daughter's bedroom. You follow after her. "Sounds like a plan." You go into the closet getting the already wrapped presents. You grab a few and so does Ellie. Quietly making your way down. "This kid is spoiled." You laugh out. "Dont talk like thatt. Only the best for my little princess." You laugh at her. "What am I then? Chopped liver." She let's out her own laugh. "Dont worry, you'll get the best present later on in the evening." She winks at you, and you just roll your eyes. Always gotta be joking about something.
You had finished not too long ago the room was dark as you were ready to go up, but you suddenly hear the floorboards in your daughters room creak. You and Ellie both look at one another, quietly but at a fast pace, going into your guys shared bedroom. Ellie plops on the bed with you hugging your form and smiling like crazy. "Well Mrs claws I think thats a job well done." Ellie says with a small smirk. "Oh, so you're Santa?" She nods, proudly. "Why ofcourse, and you're my little hoe." That cocky grin on her face says it all. "You're trouble williams." You push her off getting onto your side of the bed. "Uh uh, that's Santa. To you." She smirks going to her side of the bed. "Night you." She smiles. "Night my lil helper."
"Mama, mommy!" You've been awoken. Watching as Ellie fully awakens. "Hey lil munchkin." She helps Autumn up onto the bed. "Its Christmas!" She beams with excitement. "I know! I think someone's paid you a lil visit down stairs. Why don't you go check it out and me and mommy will be down soon yeah?" She nods her lil head, letting Ellie set her down. You then roll over to look at her. "Merry Christmas baby." She leans down to kiss you when you reply. "Merry Christmas Els." You smile at her. "Better get up huh." You say, beginning to sit up. "Yes, or else the little monkey will bother us more." You laugh gently. "But she is very adorable."
Ellie nods heading down there with you. "When are we seeing grandpa, mama?" She looks up at Ellie. "Soon, but first! Let's open some presents." "Yeahhhh." Your daughter jumps with excitement. You go into the kitchen to prepare some hot cocoa for the three of you, bringing it out once you're done. "Thank you mommy." Autumn smiles at you. "That's alright love. Right let's get to opening presents."
You all had a fun filled morning opening presents, spending time with one another. You arrived at Joel's not too long ago. "Grandpa!" Your daughter squeals going to hug him. He picks her up. "Hiya kiddo!" He smiles, hugging back. He smiles at you and Ellie. "She wake ya up early?" You laugh at how he just knew. "Did she what." He looks at her gently setting her down but going to bend down to her level. "I got you a lil somethin princess." He smiles at her gently poking her tummy. She giggles. "Yayyy." You shake your head with a big smile. "Aren't you lucky!" She nods. "Thanks grandpa!" He stands back up going upstairs.
"Good manners." Ellie smiles at the small girl. Joel soon after comes back down with a pretty pink wrapped box. "Here you are." He hands it to her, her face lit up as she opens it. It was a cute little t-shirt saying 'grandad's girl' It was adorable and it was obvious she loved it. "Can I put it on now?" She smiles wide. "Can't say no to that." He then smiles. She goes into the bathroom to do so, coming down. "Tadaaa." She twirls. "That shirt is very true." He winks at her as she giggles. "Actually she's mama's princess." Ellie punches Joel's arm lightly. "I think I've won her heart more." He ruffles Ellies hair, walking away. "I'm her parent!" She huffs, you rub her arm. "You're crazy." She laughs putting her arm around your shoulder. "Yeah but you love me." "That i do."
#elliewilliams#ellie the last of us#ellie tlou#ellie williams#ellie williams smut#ellie williams the last of us smut#ellie x fem reader#ellie x reader
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