#christmas fic exchange
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Tis the Season
Here is my gift 🎁 for @raincoffeeandfandoms Christmas Event!
Warnings: None! Just watch me try my hardest at something fluffy!
Word Count: 1929, which is a fun little Easter egg because that’s the year I pictured this taking place in (based on the fact I mention Charlie being 7, it doesn’t exactly fit canon but 🤷🏼♀️) (also, this is what had me googling the invention of tape 😂)
Two small taps on the frosted glass of Tommy’s office made his eyes shift from the papers in front of him, illuminated by the glowing light of only the desk lamp, to your face now peeking through the gap in the cracked door. Silence filled the entire building, the work day was over, and for all Tommy was aware, you had gone home.
However, he stood corrected as you stared back at him, arms concealing a surprise behind your back as you waited silently for permission to cross the threshold.
He sighed, nodding that you could enter, the creak of the floor accentuating the presence of another person in the room as he relinquished the cigarette to the ash tray and polished off what certainly wouldn’t be the last glass of whiskey he would drink at that desk.
“(Y/N), what are you hiding?” Leaning back in the leather chair he observed you carefully, with speculation that he often did. The pair of you being friends was surprising to many people, but you knew you were frequently the ray of sun forcing away the stormy clouds that riddled Tommy’s thoughts.
You smiled, the same smile that had been present in your friendship since they had settled in Small Heath, familiar from times of skipping stones across the cut and playing jacks on cobblestones.
He took note of the mischievous glint in your eye as one hand, holding the scissors, fell to your side, while the other presented a carefully folded and manicured piece of paper.
“Do you remember?”
You were all but dancing on your tip toes as you tried to contain your excitement at the surprise hidden in the main part of the office, waiting for an affirmative response, but Tommy only quirked a brow and raised his hands in the air with a shake of his head.
A small huff escaped your lips as you shook out the once discarded piece of paper, and now stood pridefully holding what appeared to be a snowflake with a look of triumph.
Tommy only let on a small smile before standing from the desk and circling it to take the object from between your fingers.
“Yes, I remember. Polly would have us all gather ‘round the table and help with the decorating. You had come home with Ada, and you was showing us how your Mom taught you to make snowflakes.”
He inspected the intricacies of the cuts you had made carefully, impressed after all this time that you could still achieve something so delicate. It was something like riding a bike, you could be a bit rusty at the beginning, but if you were patient it got easier once again with practice.
“Come look, Tommy.” You quickly exited back through the door, the snowflake taking residence on the desk with other now abandoned papers as Tommy trailed you in to the main part of the office.
Hanging from the ceiling must have been over a hundred snowflakes of varying sizes, each suspended carefully from its own red ribbon. They were held in place across the ceiling at varying heights, with the aid of what looked to be possibly every push pin that Shelby Company Limited owned.
True to their water based inspiration, Tommy guessed that truly no two were alike.
His brows knitted together as he watched you discard the extra scraps of ribbon from your desk into the bin.
One of the only people outside of his family he could trust with the truth of their business, Tommy had hired you to balance the books for everything they owned. It was your job to run the numbers, to work the money from the illegal portions of the operation in to the legal parts and help keep everything running smoothly.
And out of all the things you could do to surprise him, he was suddenly in awe of your paper snowflake making skills, of all things.
“You know,” you prompted, returning the scissors to their spot in the center drawer of your desk, donning your coat as you spoke, “we’ve less than a fortnight until Christmas, Thomas. Have you gotten gifts sorted for your family yet?”
“When did you find the time to do all this?” He wasn’t purposefully deflecting your question, but you saw through the maneuver, accompanied by a gesture at it all, as he continued to let his eyes wander the ceiling, trying his hardest to find two of the same snowflake, just so he could point them out.
Tommy pretended he wasn’t sentimental, last year you recalled him sending Lizzie Stark to sort the gifts so that he didn’t have to waste time on it, but deep down you knew he cared about the holiday, if only a little bit.
And if you had your way, he wouldn’t be getting away with it again this year.
“I started making them at the beginning of October. I kept them in my desk until I couldn’t fit anymore in there. I’ve just brought the ribbon to hang them all up today,” you sighed, fastening the buttons of the brown coat before continuing the sisterly prodding, “Tommy, if you’d like, I’d go with you, to get the gifts.”
Lighting a new cigarette, he sighed, the smoke leaving his lips before speaking, “If I give you a list—“
“No, Thomas, I won’t run around like your gopher and do your bidding.” He opened his mouth to protest, but you continued, “Now, I can’t imagine there’s one more paper on your desk that can’t wait until tomorrow morning for you to look at.”
“We could wait until Saturday and go to Selfridges, eh?”
“All the way to London? Lewis’s is still open for the day. If you put it off any longer you’ll make it someone else’s responsibility, Tommy. How can you give a gift not knowing what’s in the box?”
He cleared his throat, glancing down at the shine of his shoes before peeking to see you still waiting for an answer to the question.
“I know what’s in ‘em.” The part of the statement he didn’t speak was implied, because I pay for them, and you quirked a brow, maybe something that had rubbed off on you after being around the Shelby family so long (between Tommy and Polly it seemed as if it were a hereditary reaction), as you waited for a more appropriate answer.
He sighed, knowing the look you wore from discrepancies in the rules of your childhood games, and that if he didn’t give in and agree soon you would just as easily drag Aunt Pol in to the matter now, just as you did then.
Some things never change.
“Fine, I’ll get me coat.”
***
The turning of the key in the lock, with the pair of you bundled in your coats and protected from the delicate snowfall that decorated the air, meant that at least half of the task had been accomplished. You had assumed that getting Tommy to actually leave the office would be the most difficult part.
The drive wasn’t long, however with the impending holiday approaching, the department store was fairly busy. The counters and floors and every pillar in sight were all decorated with some form of ornament or garland or pine swag bundle.
The display of bicycles upon entering the store caught Tommy’s attention, if only for a moment, the painted sign amongst them declaring “Get The Boy Something He Wants!”, as you came to stand beside him.
“I don’t think with all the horses, Tommy, that a bike would be something your boy would want,” you smiled, as he shook the snow from the flat cap, stuffing it in the pocket of the black wool coat, and nodding in agreement.
However, it didn’t take long to come across something that Tommy thought his boy would want. Charlie seemed to be more and more curious every day, and now at 7 years old he was well outgrown of the building blocks and wooden painted triangles and rhombuses, now finding ways to build with books from his fathers office amongst other things.
Tommy carried the Meccano No. 7 Outfit precariously. In his childhood it was the kind of gift he never would have dreamed of receiving, far out of bounds of the knitted sweaters that their mother carefully fashioned as they slept to keep them still a surprise, on the years when they received anything at all.
“Tom, look!” You called, holding in you hand a miniature version of the car you departed from in the lot, a tiny silver Bentley, plucked from the surrounding rows of die-cast cars, tiny Rolls Royce’s and Ford’s amongst them, with their maroons and blacks for paint carefully coating the exteriors.
“The doors even open! And the wheels are really rubber!” It wasn’t the first time you had seen something like it, however it was the first time you had seen such a small car modeled after something you had ridden in.
Tommy smiled, a real one, rarely seen lately, “I think he’ll drive it ‘round ‘til the wheels fall off.”
Once a gift or two (Charlie being the spoiled exception) had been carefully selected for each of the Shelby’s, Tommy paid without a concern of the cost, and the two of you departed, the quiet of the car a welcome comfort from the hustle and bustle of the now closing department store.
“I can wrap them,” you offered, removing your gloves and placing them in your lap, to push a piece of snow dampened hair behind your ear, “I already have ribbon and sealing wax, and some paper I used last year. There’s a print Charlie would probably like.”
Tommy nodded as the engine of the car roared to life, “Would be best to get it done now, Wednesday will be here soon, eh?”
***
“It’s not truly Christmas present wrapping if there’s not hot chocolate, Tommy.”
He chuckled, shaking his head as you handed him the mug. He knew you wouldn’t take no for an answer, however he sat it aside, hoping he could avoid the beverage and it’s undying sweetness, as he took up cutting the wrapping paper covered with a pattern of a child on a rocking horse, surrounded by the likes of a drum, a stuffed bear, a toy train, all atop a white a red striped background, to wrap Charlie’s Meccano Outfit.
The candle in the middle of the table did it’s job well of warming the sealing wax, and once every gift was secured with an appropriate amount of ribbon, although in your opinion there would never be enough ribbon on the gifts, you beamed triumphantly, curling up on the Chesterfield in front of the fire with the remnants of your hot chocolate, now a drinkable temperature in the mug.
“Thank you, (Y/N).” Tommy smiled, extinguishing the candle as you placed your empty mug on the side table, and he took up residence in the chair across from you, lighting a cigarette before leaning back in the chair.
“For what?” Your brow furrowed as a chuckle escaped you, unsure of what the thanks were for.
He shrugged, “For making it feel like it’s actually Christmas this year.”
You tossed the closest decorative cushion at him, it making a soft thud as it hit him in the shoulder, “That’s what happens when you participate in the festivities, Tom! That’s what makes it feel like Christmas, it’s not just the day, it’s the whole season!”
He nodded, tucking the words in the back corner of his mind to remember for when the time came next year.
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I just finished posting the story for @forabeatofadrum <3
It's 2am here in Italy but I couldn't resist! I had to get it to you! I hope with all my heart you like it. We don't know each other, so I admit it was hard to write something not knowing your taste…although I know your stories, I love them, and I may have hit the nail on the head?! I hope so!
You can read it ✨️here✨️
#klainesecretsanta2023#klaine fanfic#klaine fanfiction#klaine#glee fanfiction#poetry fic#kurt and blaine#christmas gift exchange fanfiction#christmas
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Bearer is entitled to…
My discord server did a holiday fic exchange and everything is live now! If you’re in the mood for smut and fluff in a collection by some awesome, kickass, talented folks, go check it out!
My fic is a gift for the lovely @lexirosewrites and features established relationship steddie, with a whole lot of fluff and smut, along with some of my own personal demons about having a birthday close to Christmas, and giving Steve my love of Jack Black in The Holiday.
#steddie#omegaverse#fanfiction#mpreg#omega steve harrington#alpha eddie munson#SHOM exchange#steve harrington#eddie munson#established steddie#christmas fic#birthday fic#gift fic
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my biggest problem with deadlines is that months feel like entirely discrete entities. i don't even use wall calendars anymore but as a concept it really stuck with me. april 1st is on an entirely different page than march 31st. might as well be next year. next century. the countdown toward any particular date next month doesn't begin until 12:01 on the 1st and somehow despite a lifetime of evidence to the contrary i refuse to believe otherwise.
#anyway my exchange fics are going bad#but it's fine because they're not due until april#i used to have like 5 wall calendars at all times when i was a kid and so did most other kids i knew#because there was a mall kiosk that sold them and there were themed calendars for like every popular tv show#so that was a go-to christmas gift
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Your Taste, Forever on My Tongue
Pairing: Elain/Lucien
Rating: M
Summary: Elain's office is running a Secret Santa event that coincides with the launch of the new website which she's leading on. She happens to get allocated the last person she could ever think of getting a gift for.
Merry Christmas, @makememakesense ! It's me, your Secret Santa!
Thank you so much being so lovely and giving me so many ideas for this AU, I really hope I got it (somewhat) right!
Thank you also to the @acotargiftexchange organisers for giving me this opportunity. This is my first ever fic and I've been so nervous about it, but I'm so glad to have done it for such a joyful community. Special thanks goes to my wife @mmiscbutterflies for helping me brainstorm and bring my 'Love, Actually' vision to life, and generally talk me down from the proverbial ledge when I became anxious/was not in the right headspace to write. Love you always.
Read on AO3 here
Snippet below:
Elain was late.
Not her usual, sorry I’m late-I couldn’t resist-there was a new cafe I just had to try on the way- late, but a fuck me-I slept through five alarms-maybe I spent too long watching reruns of Bake Off-or was it the bottle of Sauvignon?- tardiness, which left her cursing profusely while she tripped over her tights, slapped on eye cream and was out the door.
#acotar gift exchange#Elucien#ACOTAR#ACOTAR fanfiction#i don't know how to tag this is my first fic i'm sorry#Background Nesta/Cassian if you squint#POC ACOTAR cast just because i can#it's canon to ME#Vassa may be my new favourite#Jurian is queer coded sorry i don't make the rules#they're all queer coded in fact#it's criminal to not include Eris in a fic sorry#Lucien is obsessed with Elain and she's none the wiser what's new#shoutout to my sister for being my beta#and shoutout to food for being my love language#cosy christmas fic#office romance#FLUFF#tooth rottingly sweet#inspired by Love Actually#if you see a typo no you didn't#i really tried to make them rivals to lovers but my poor little heart just couldn't#please bear with me i'm so shit at this formatting stuff
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its secret santa time!! woo!! @hearts4ggy BOO CAROUSEL JUMPSCARE 💥💥💥💥
originally i planned to make a fic AND draw a scene from the fic. but my dreams slowly crumbled as i realized i would have so much homework this month AND i also really just wanted to get this fic out before christmas bc i know many people are with family at this time
so heres the fic instead!! maybe i can finish up the art part of the gift this week.. :3
the full fic is also below the cut incase u wanna read it this way ^_^
Carol of the Bells
3,347 words
3:56. 3:57. 3:58.
Every time Michael glanced at the clock, it stared right back. Almost like it's taunting me, he thought.
Out of all of the days in the year, why did William Afton have to work on Christmas Eve and leave Michael to look after his siblings?
To be fair, it was a lose-lose situation either way. He could either spend the day stuck with his stupid siblings, or ditto but with his stupid father.
So here he was, baking cookies with Elizabeth and Evan in the afternoon.
"I.. I think we used too much sugar," a small voice piped up. It was Evan, who had just grabbed the egg carton out of the fridge and peered into the bowl the siblings were using. Sure enough, sugar was littered all over the kitchen counter. Evan guessed that was Elizabeth's handiwork.
"Good! Maybe you'll get some cavities from it, and you'll talk even less, then," Elizabeth jeered at her brother.
"Liz, these cookies are for all of us. if anything, you're getting cavities too." Michael sighed as he pushed her aside to swipe the eggs out of Evan's hands. she let out a small yelp of annoyance, which Michael had ignored. He turned to his phone propped up on the counter with the recipe on his screen.
"Ok, eggs and vanilla extract." he said aloud to himself. Michael looked to the counter, but the vanilla extract was nowhere in sight. What? That couldn't be right.
"We got vanilla extract, right? who has it?" Michael instantly turned to Evan, who jumped a little and showed Michael his hands. Empty.
Next, he turned to Liz, getting more agitated at the second. Once he looked in her direction, he noticed three red cups set on the counter, as Elizabeth wore a suspicious smile and eyed the cups.
Michael simply wasn't having it, and knocked all 3 cups off the counter as if he were a cat. He deadpanned towards Elizabeth as she watched the vanilla extract fall out of the middle cup
and onto the floor.
"Hey! What's your problem today?!" she cried, as Michael went to pick up the extract.
"My problem," he growled, "is that I'm stuck with you two today, because our father can't even manage to take the day off of work for CHRISTMAS EVE."
"Well, maybe he's getting some last minute gifts.. or something!" she said, trying to excuse her father.
"Bullshit, theres nothing open today! It's a holiday, he shouldn't even be at work in the first place!"
"Don't swear at me!"
"I'll do whatever I want! Dad isn't here, I'm in charge."
"Y'know, i bet you the reason you don't wanna spend Christmas Eve with us is because you'd rathe-"
The house phone started ringing, and the two stopped fighting. Michael sent a cold glare to Elizabeth, as if he was telling her this wasn't over, and he walked over to pick up.
"Hey, is mike here?" a voice rang through the speaker. it was Charlie!
"Uh- yeah, what happened?"
"What do you mean what happened, its Christmas Eve! we're coming over for a bit, so we can keep you guys company.. since your dad isn't here, y'know." there was a slight laugh in her voice, but it settled once she mentioned that William wasn't home. Right, how could Michael ever forget.
"Oh, well.. sweet. See you guys in a bit, I guess. bye." Michael put the phone down. He hoped Charlie couldn't tell that there was still hints of anger in his voice, despite their call being so short. He let out a sigh, which somewhat turned into a growl, and turned around to look back at his siblings. Evan had started to pick the extract up and clean it with some paper towels. Good. At least he was managing to be helpful.
hearing the news that Charlie and Henry (and hopefully Sammy) were coming over eased Michael's thoughts. maybe Henry could be the one to deal with his siblings, and Michael could get a break from these brats. Evan offered the extract to Mike, and he picked it up, turning his phone back on and reading over the recipe once again. Liz had left to go sit on the couch and cool off from her and Mike's previous squabbling. Hey, I'm not complaining, Mike thought to himself.
"Cass, you wanna grab the mixer for me?" he asked. Evan nodded, and went to search the cupboards until he pulled the machine out, with the cord dangling and nearly tripping him.
Evan hauled the machine up onto the counter. He brushed his hands off on his pants, and stood idly waiting for Michael to do the next step. He fidgeted with his sweater sleeves, and peeked
around the corner of the fridge to look at Elizabeth. she had a pillow in her hand as she hit it repeatedly against the floor.
Evan had a hunch that pillow was supposed to be michael.
He turned back to face Michael. the boy jumped as the mixer started and the ingredients splashed onto his face. He grumbled, but held the bowl steady and let the mixer do its job.
Evan took advantage of the loud whirring from the mixer, and snuck off into the living room to stay with Elizabeth. Her eyes narrowed as he walked into the room, and put the pillow down.
The mixer slowed down and Michael went to wash his hands. He looked around for evan, only to find that the boy wasn't there.
"Hey, I still need help here!" he shouted.
"…"
"Fine."
-------------
Michael cringed with each bite he took of the cookie. Something had definitely went wrong once he was left alone to bake. Was it too sweet? Or too bitter? Were the ingredients expired?
"Ok, these… these cookies taste like shit." Michael put the cookie (could it even be called that?) back down on his plate and took a sip of water. he heard Elizabeth and Evan laugh, as they had already rejected their cookies.
"When will Charlie and Henry get here?" Evan asked, blankly staring out into the window. There were slight flurries outside- the thought of a white Christmas made Michael subconsciously smile. It had reminded him of better days - days where all he would do in school was make crafts and bring them home to his mom and dad. He remember the way his mother's nose would crinkle as she
smiled and put the poor excuse for an ornament up on their Christmas tree.
"…"
"I'm gonna go get my sketchbook. Just… do whatever." Mike nearly bolted up as he dodged the question and tossed the tv remote to Elizabeth, heading for the stairs. She turned on the tv and started to flip through channels. There was nothing that interested the two. News channels, baby channels, reruns of old movies, the shopping channel; and a few kids channels, but none of them were playing anything good. Elizabeth decided on one that was about these weird CGI Christmas dogs.. it wasn't like she would actually pay attention to it.
"All of these shows suck!" she huffed in frustration. "Why aren't they playing, like, My Little Pony or something?" she went to lay back on the floor and stare up at the ceiling.
Evan had wanted to answer, because its Christmas and the only thing that's on right now are Christmas movies. But he was too lost in his own thoughts to interject. He remembered the look
in Michael's eyes as he went up to grab his sketchbook. The teen looked like he was on the verge of tears. Evan felt as if he had seen a cryptid.
"Liz, um.. do you ever think about why Mike gets angry at us?" he turned to his sister.
"..Well, I don't think about it on a daily basis, but I know the answer. You should too." she sighed, crossing her arms.
"I mean, obviously I know why, but… why does he get angry? We only fight with him because he fights with us. Why does he get to be the angry one? Why does he see us as brats and then get to act like that?"
Elizabeth stayed silent. They both did for a minute.
"Maybe he never moved on. I don't know." she sighed, now giving more thought to the conversation. "I don't remember much of her. Maybe the problem is that he remembers too much."
Maybe the problem is that he remembers too much. The words repeated in Evan's mind. what did that even mean? It got louder and louder, and-
"Charlie!" Elizabeth cried as she shot up to run towards the window. She was careful to not scratch herself on the Christmas tree right beside the window, and peered through the snow, which had begun to fall faster than a few minutes ago. The headlights of Henry's car disoriented Liz, but she tried her best to get a good look.
Evan stared at the ground for a few more seconds, before getting up and opening the door for them. Henry and Charlie stepped out of the car, gift bags in each of their hands. Elizabeth nearly pushed Evan out of the way as they came in the door.
"Merry Christmas, you two!" Henry said, imitating the voice of Santa Claus. He definitely has the beard for the role, Evan thought.
Elizabeth jumped into Charlie arms, giving her a hug.
"Hey Liz!" the teen said, ruffling her hair. "Guess who these are for?" she said as she held up the bags in her arms. Elizabeth gasped and reached for them, but Charlie swiped them away.
"Hey, not until tomorrow." she laughed. Her and Henry walked towards the tree to put their gifts down and take off their coats. Henry paused as Charlie set down her bags.
"You kids only got 5 presents?" Henry asked, concerned. "Now I don't want to shame your dad, but I know he has more than enough money for you guys. There's no way he's putting all that into the mall..."
the man trailed off as he answered his own question.
"Well, good thing we delivered, huh?" Charlie said, trying to keep the mood up. "C'mon Liz, let's go find a Christmas movie to watch." the 2 girls walked to the couch as Charlie flipped through
their DVD collection.
Henry and Evan sat in silence as Henry looked around and rubbed his hands.
"So, where's your brother?" Henry asked, looking around the house.
"He ran upstairs." Evan answered, looking up at them as if Michael would appear there in seconds. But Evan knew better. He was probably locking himself in his room for the rest of the night.
He turned back to look at Henry, but couldn't quite read his expression as the man grumbled something to himself.
"..Well, I see you made cookies! Mind if I take a bite?" Henry grinned as he walked over to the plate on the kitchen counter. He had moved too fast, as Evan was just about to respond until Henry took a bite out of the poorly iced mess. His face went sour, and Evan couldn't help but snicker.
"We- we didn't do the best, I'm sure you can tell." Evan said as he watched Henry put the cookie back down on its plate.
"No worries, kid. I guess it's Santa's problem, not ours." Henry sighed and walked off into the living room. But Evan stayed put as his gaze wandered to the stairs.
He wasn't actually going to stay upstairs, was he?
-------------
Evan walked down the hall, peering in each room. Every step he took made the floorboards creak, making Evan walk lighter than usually. He passed by his room, and the door was closed. He looked at all the drawings scattered on his door, some drawn by Michael and some drawn by himself.
Elizabeth's door was decorated with stickers and one of those "no boys allowed" signs -- a gift that she put up as a joke. Evan continued walking. The bathroom doors were both open, and Michael's door was locked shut. his door held no drawings, or no stickers. Just
a door handle and peeling paint. Evan held his ear close to the door, but couldn't hear any signs of Michael. He was most likely in there, but Evan had to be sure.
..That left only 2 rooms to check.
If Evan wasn't stepping lightly before, he was definitely floating by now. Even just standing by the door of William's office was enough to make him remind himself to breathe. The door stood tall and foreboding, somewhat like his dad. The light was off, so Michael couldn't be in there. Evan turned to the room at the end of the hall.
William's room.
Of course, it had never been just William's room. It used to belong to their mother too, once upon a time. Or more like a few years ago. but it seemed like Evan's instincts were right, as the lamp on the bedside drawer was on. Michael was right beside that drawer leaning against the bed and burying his head in his arms. There was a book by his feet, sitting upside down with pictures falling out of it.
Something told Evan that the book wasn't Michael's sketchbook.
Evan walked closer to Michael, and the boy lifted his head up.
"Screw off Cass, get out." his throat was raspy; Michael sounded like he was tired. His voice was the quietest it had been in years.
Evan stayed silent. He moved closer.
"..Are you deaf, I said--"
"I heard you, and I'm not going to let you yell at me anymore!" Evan's voice wavered as he spoke.
"Oh, what, did you--"
"All day you've been rude to me AND Elizabeth, and you're always just rude in general! Why do you get to just- why do you not realize that when mom died, it.. it hurt us too. But you don't get
that, because you're mad at our father, and.."
Evan felt tears welling up already. Why was he such a crybaby?
Evan and Michael both fell silent as the two thought of what to say.
"..You really suck at yelling." Michael grumbled as he picked the book up. Evan wiped his tears and tried to compose himself so he could continue his rant, but he finally noticed what the book was.
It was a photo album.
Evan took a breath as he moved closer to sit beside Michael.
"In a way, you aren't wrong. I am mad at our father. Because he doesn't give a shit about us or about mom's death-"
"Liar! Dad talks about her all the time! You wouldn't know that because you barely try to talk to him."
Michael ignored him as he flipped through the pages. Their parents didn't take many pictures of themselves, but there were lots of family photos. A picture of Michael on a high chair as he eats baby food. His hair sticks out in every direction. Carol is cleaning his face, smiling for the camera as she tries her best not to laugh. A beach day photo where she's putting sunscreen on a younger Elizabeth as Michael and
Evan splash around in the water. Michael and Carol at a school dance.
Slowly but surely, Michael and Evan's mom started to appear less and less, until the last picture was of William and Henry at the opening of the Pizzaplex.
"It's like she's.. slowly disappearing. From the book, from us-- And somewhere deep down, I WANT her to. So I don't have to think about her everyday. So the pain is easier." Michael sobbed. Evan's eyes widened as Michael was crying real, live tears. Was this a prank?
"I can't remember anything else from our childhood except her."
As awkward as it was, Evan shifted closer to rest his head on Michael's shoulder. Michael didn't push him off. He didn't yell at him. It just happened. And that was enough.
They sat in silence for a good while.
"..It feels weird to see you cry. It's like our personalities were swapped or something. Like 'Freaky Friday'." Evan muttered in a soft voice. Michael sniffed and wiped his eyes as he let out a genuine snicker. It wasn't in a mocking or sarcastic tone, for the first time in a while. Evan still wasn't used to this.
"Maybe it should happen more. For the both of us. I can... cry more, and you can stand up to me more." Michael admitted. He sighed and rested his head on Evan's, like they were 2 brothers who actually liked each other.
Someday, maybe that could happen.
-------------
The rest of the night flew by. Evan and Michael finally went back downstairs to join everyone else and have a movie marathon, along with some TV dinner. They talked, and danced, but eventually Henry and Charlie had to drive back home. Henry allowed them to open at least one Christmas present before they left, and Elizabeth made sure to pick a big enough gift. Because of course, Henry wouldn't allow her to pick the box that DEFINITELY wasn't a new toy playset.
Michael got a set of watercolors, Evan got a set of pajamas, and Elizabeth got a 16" Glamrock Chica plushie. The Emilys went back to their house, and the Aftons got ready for bed.
William Afton was still nowhere in sight.
Falling in and out of sleep, Michael lay in his bed, snuggled up in a pile of 3 blankets with the fan running. It was peaceful.
That was, until Elizabeth creaked the door open and poked at Michael. And when he didn't respond to pokes, she rocked him back and forth.
"... What, Liz? It's.. I don't even know what time it is, why are you still awake?" he mumbled.
"Me and Ev can't sleep," she whispered, Glamrock Chica plushie in her hands.
"Well, that's not my problem, is it? If you're awake, Santa won't give you any presents. He knows when you're sleeping," Michael told her.
"Exactly! We need you so we can fall asleep, and then Santa can come! Get up already!" she dragged the boy out of his blanket nest as he protested. Evan had been waiting by the stairs, with a nightlight in one hand and a Fredbear plushie in the other. The 3 siblings walked down the stairs as the Christmas tree shined as bright as a fire.
"Why are we going in the living room?" Michael nearly tripped on his feet as Elizabeth led him around the house. He looked down at Evan, who was just as confused.
"Aw, wait... Michael, I'm gonna go take your blankets. Help Evan move the chair closer to the tree, okay?" she said in a hurry as the girl ran back up the stairs. Evan set his nightlight down, and Michael finally understood what Elizabeth was planning.
"I'll get some chairs," Michael muttered to himself.
Soon enough, Elizabeth had hurried back down with blankets in hand. Evan had knocked over a few things while he pushed the chair, but they'd fix it in the morning. Michael spaced out the chairs, and Elizabeth draped them all on top of each other.
It wasn't the best, but it was a feasible blanket fort. Michael took the pillows off of the couch and threw them into the fort, as the 3 settled in and got comfy. Michael propped up one more pillow for his head, and closed his eyes.
"Now go to sleep," he told his siblings. In twin movements, Elizabeth and Evan rested their heads on Michael's shoulders. He could have pushed them off, but he was getting more tired at the second. He listened to their breathing get slower, and Michael laughed at the thought that 'visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.'
Michael started to feel himself drifting away, and just before he fell asleep, he swore he heard the jingling of bells and something on the roof.
Maybe he made that part up in a sleepless haze. Maybe it was really his father's car engine.
#vanny shenanigans#my writing#< oughhh my first time using that tag...#afton kids#michael afton#elizabeth afton#crying child#evan afton#henry emily#charlie emily#christmas fic#christmas#fnaf#fnaf fic#radioroxx gift exchange
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Just Another Steddie Christmas Fic
The roads are shit and when Eddie finally decides to pull over and find somewhere to stay for the night, him and Steve find themselves shivering in a shared bed of a janky ass motel.
I can't imagine what that scenario might bring.
@steddieobsessed I hope this fic finds you well ✨️ Happy Holidays
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It's chaos, but it always is in the moments coming up to a road trip. And the fact that it's also Christmas break doesn't help.
Steve's ready, he has been since last week. Bags packed, gifts wrapped and assignments submitted. The only thing he has to do now is get dressed and head out the door.
But Eddie on the other hand…
Well, Eddie's the embodiment of chaos.
Eddie for the last month has been raving about Christmas but hasn't bothered to take a minute and think about what all it entails. He's called Dustin and the rest of the gang to make sure they're ready for the one shot he's taken the time to prepare, but otherwise?
Otherwise his gifts aren't wrapped, his clothes aren't packed and he's all but forgotten about his assignments. Now he's anxious and flitting around the apartment like a twitchy cat trying to gather his bearings before they leave for Hawkins. He's muttering to himself as he tries to do all three tasks at once and while Steve's enjoying the last few bites of his late day snack, sat at the kitchen table in nothing but his pyjamas, he can't help but feel obligated to help.
“Ed,” Steve starts, abandoning his Cheerios and pushing his chair out with a quiet scrape against the floor, trying to gain his friend's attention while he watches the man pace and struggle between what needs to be done next. Eddie's in the living room now, an empty duffle bag in front of him, a pile of unwrapped gifts next to him and a textbook clutched so tightly in his hand his knuckles have paled.
“Eddie,” Steve repeats as he ventures closer, floor creaking below his feet before grabbing the metalhead by the shoulder and squeezing until he turns to look him in the eyes, “Tell me what you need me to do.”
He can feel Eddie tense under his grasp, but only for a moment, his breathing slowing as he allows their eyes to linger. After a few short seconds and one deeply inhaled and grounding breath, Steve watches as the tension leaves Eddie's shoulders, and he leans into the touch while asking, “Gifts?”
Gifts. He can do that.
Offering a gentle smile and giving Eddie's shoulder a reassuring squeeze, Steve nods, “Gifts.”
—
After wrapping six presents and helping the man pack his bag too, Steve eventually finds himself in the passenger seat of Eddie's van. Soon enough it's nothing but Metallica, grey skies and shitty roads from there on in.
It's a route they've regularly travelled but come winter time, it never seems to be any easier. They've lived in Chicago for what feels like ages, having moved together to attend college in 87’ and yet every year they never seem to leave enough time. Every year it's either shitty roads, poor timing or a combination of the both and well, this year….
—-
“You're sure the roads are fine?” Steve asks Eddie for the twelfth time in the last two hours, worrying the inside of his cheek as he glances between a far too confident friend and the obviously not great roads ahead of them.
The pair are on their way to the Hopper- Byer’s home for Christmas, The Party and all other family members having planned on staying at the couple's large, government funded ranch house for a couple days. But that's if they arrive at all. Sitting in the passenger seat of Eddie's beat up van, Steve watches as a winter storm swirls outside casting the already fading light of the now evening sky a gloomier shade of grey. It's obvious there's ice on the roads, it rained just last night and they haven't seen a single plough truck along their journey. And if that's not enough evidence, the way the van sways uncontrollably every several miles is.
But Eddie's confident. Apparently.
If it was Steve driving he would have called it quits no more than a few miles out of Chicago, but no, his car’s in the shop and if they had to take Eddie's van back to Hawkins, Eddie would drive. He insisted upon the matter in fact, stating rather dramatically, ‘I am the only man this van will ever know behind her wheel and no one else.’
So here they are. And Steve's nervous… and maybe a little bitchy.
He's even more nervous as Eddie doesn't answer and only clutches the wheel tighter as the van starts to drift sideways, edging them closer and closer to the ditch.
Instinctually Steve reaches for Eddie, clasping a hand over his thigh and holding on for dear life. He's sure he'll leave bruises, fingerprints branded into skin that he'll think about at a later hour, but at the moment he doesn't really care, he just hopes they'll make it back for Christmas in one piece.
Soon enough though the vehicle's righted and moving down the highway as it should be. Though that doesn't mean Steve's grip loosens on Eddie's leg.
“Steve…” Eddie says quietly, voice comforting but lingering with something like a question.
It isn't until Eddie moves a hand from the wheel to lay over Steve's and give a gentle squeeze that he clues into his still iron grip on Eddie's leg.
“Shit,” Steve pulls back with a quiet, embarrassed huff, “Sorry.”
“You're alright,” Eddie grins, shooting Steve a dimpled smile before he reaches for the map to hand to Steve, “Roads are quiet shit though, you wanna try to find a place for the night and see how roads look in the morning?”
Yes. God, yes.
Steve's already unfolding the map before he can even get it entirely out of Eddie's hand. He'd do nearly anything to get off of these roads.
“We have time?” Steve asks, truthfully not caring if they're late for Christmas if that means they'll survive the trek back home. Joyce won't mind, the kids might be livid but they'll understand. He just has to remember to call them when they find a place to stay.
“Quit your worrying.” Eddie reminds him for what feels like the hundredth time, “We'll be fine. Plus, we left a day early anyways, didn't we?”
—
Twenty minutes and one more scary slide down the highway later, the boys find themselves standing at the reception desk of a questionable looking motel. Eddie claimed the place had ‘character,’ while Steve was adamant it was just generally creepy. But if by ‘character,’ he meant, ‘looks like a place you go to get syphilis, drugs and die of a gunshot all in one night,’ well then sure, Eddie's right on the money.
Standing in the lobby, lights flickering above head and pipes groaning in the walls, Steve tries his hardest to look anywhere but the poorly done taxidermy that litters the panelled expanse of the room. He's already called Joyce and has been reprimanded by Eddie for getting snippy with the lady at the front desk, so now he has no choice but to hang back or wander.
A variety of stuffed woodland creatures all seem dead set on staring at him while he does so, but one particular deer in the corner somehow seemingly maintaining eye contact wherever he is in the space, doesn't help the creepy factor one bit. If anything the unwanted attention and the flickering lights seem to set his nerves on fire for all the wrong reasons, but with a clench in his jaw and a want to reach out for Eddie, Steve has to remind himself that the Upside Down is long gone and Vecna is dead. Things can be creepy and lights can flicker without any ulterior motive.
The old gal working the desk isn't much better. Teeth few and far between, Mary-Sue, according to her name tag, somehow manages to keep an eye on them both at the same time. One milky and wandering, seems to follow Steve while the other remains locked onto Eddie as they continue to visit and she hands over the single room key, the nub of a rabbit's foot hanging from its small silver chain.
After they give their thanks and Mary-Sue nearly dies of a coughing fit, they find their way out of the lobby. The rickety door and Mary-Sue’s parting words cracking through the blustery air behind them, “Don't enjoy the room too much boys! I'll be bringing by fresh sheets in the morning!”
—
“Of course she thought we were together ” Eddie grumbles under his breath while he tries the key in the door. This particular topic has been an ongoing conversation since the old gals parting remark as they left the lobby. The insinuation of them messing the sheets together had Steve blushing for reasons he's not willing to admit aloud, while Eddie did nothing but cackle his way to the van to get their bags. “Steve, we’re two dudes looking for a room late at night. What do you think she thought?”
“I don't know,” Steve huffs back, breath coming out frosty in the night air while he tries to go through the interaction in his mind. They hadn't been overly close, sure maybe Eddie pinched his hip when he was getting bitchy over all of Mary-Sue's questions, but they weren't hanging off of each other. They're just two guys who needed somewhere to sleep out the storm. Sure, maybe the idea isn't far off from Steve's own late night fantasies but it's not like it's going to happen. Just because Eddie's interested in men doesn't mean he's interested in him. He huffs again, adjusting his freezing grip on his duffle bag before he continues, “That we needed a room for the night.”
Shouldering the door open Eddie barks out a laugh, “Hah! Yeah, sure, Big Boy.”
When they're in the room, door shut, shitty weather behind them and bags dropped to the floor, Eddie turns on the light to reveal the room and what Steve would describe as its horror. The carpet’s a yellowed beaten down shag that shows every commonly followed route in the room, a definite trail from the door to the bed and the bed to what he assumes to be the bathroom. The walls are wood panelling that's in surprisingly decent condition, not unlike the lobby, though the ceiling is anything but perfect, off white and stained with cigarette smoke, water damage and a browning splatter that Steve refuses to think any deeper about… He just hopes if someone was murdered in the room, they at least changed the sheets.
Eddie only takes a moment of pause before plopping down onto the single double bed in the middle of the room, falling backwards onto the comforter and letting out a loud groan as he stretches out, not unlike a cat.
Steve, albeit hesitantly, settles down next to him, leaning back on his elbows, trying adamantly to ignore the way Eddie's shirt has ridden up and the sharp edges of his hips jut out above his belt line. It's become a problem in the last few years, his eyes finding every intriguing part of Eddie's body to ogle, and sometimes he does just that, but for right now he pulls his eyes away and forces them to focus on the ceiling.
It's quiet only for a moment.
“You know,” Eddie starts, rolling onto his side to face Steve, propping himself up on an elbow as the bed creaks under his movements, “at the very least she probably thought you were a hooker.”
“Me?” Steve laughs, disbelieving, giving Eddie a shove to the centre of his chest until he's flat on his back again, “a hooker? Why me?”
Covering his face with his hands Eddie lets out a breathy laugh, mumbling a hardly audible, “Jesus H. Christ,” before he turns his head to give Steve a flat look, resting his hands across his partly exposed stomach. “Really? Why would the pretty boy in the too-tight jeans be the hooker?”
Steve can't help but feel a heat spread through his cheeks as he nods, it's not uncommon for Eddie to call him pretty, but still, it gets him every time. Makes him feel warm and fuzzy and maybe wish Eddie were calling him sweet nicknames in a different setting. One maybe a little more intimate. At that thought and the images it brings to his mind, Steve bites his lip to smother the smile that wants to break free and waits for Eddie to continue with another nod.
“Steve,” Eddie starts, cheeks pinkening and eyes searing as his gaze never breaks, “let's just say, I'd easily drop this month's rent and more for a night in bed with you.”
Jesus H. Christ is right. Fuck. At Eddie's words Steve can't help but to feel the spread of heat that floods through his veins, spreading from his cheeks to his chest and further south. He coughs into his fist and pulls his eyes away, telling himself Eddie's just joking. He has to be joking.
“Sure,” Steve eventually settles with, voice a touch shakey, now refusing to meet Eddie's eye as he counts the dots of the very possible blood splatter on the ceiling and decides to play along with whatever this game is that Eddie's got going. "You're better looking than I am, first of all.” Steve smirks, seeing Eddie's attention turn to him from the corner of his eye, “You have that whole hot bad boy thing going on. Plus, you took charge of that entire situation when we checked in. I hardly got a word in, then you pinched me when I got bitchy like it was a punishment. No, Eddie,” Steve shrugs, refusing to stop but also already beginning to regret what all he plans to say next, “you're some hot Dom, that rich assholes pay a shit ton of money to, to just step on their balls.”
At least he makes the effort to say rich assholes instead of I.
That has to count for something, right?
God, what's he doing? What the fuck did he just say?
Aside from Eddie's sharply sucked in breath, the room's eerily quiet after that. Both of them unmoving, refusing to look at one another. He sees Eddie open and close his mouth like he's trying to say something but nothing ever comes. Steve's sure he can feel the heat coming off of Eddie's body from the few inches away that he is. Maybe he caught on, maybe Steve wasn't subtle enough. Maybe Eddie's laying there regretting the idea of getting a room for the night. A room where Steve's just now clueing into the fact that they'll have to share a bed, because lord knows what they'd catch from the carpet if one of them slept on the floor. God, they're going to have to share a bed.
Nothing ever comes. Eddie says nothing and Steve stays silent. The tension is thick and awkward, heavy in the stale air as they both refuse to speak any further.
That is until a loud moan nearly rattles the walls, the creaking of a bed frame following, along with the smacking of a headboard meeting the wall adjacent to theirs. They can't help but burst into laughter as Larry, according to the screams from next door, blows out someone's back.
They're snorting and crying by the time it subsides. Steve having sat up, chest hurting from raucous laughter and Eddie having moved so his head’s hidden in Steve's thigh, the light wash denim now wet with tears as Eddie continues to shake and wheeze, eventually huffing between giggles and hiccups, “W-who d-do you think the h-hooker is over there?”
Steve snorts again, giving Eddie another shove that nearly sends him to the disease riddled floor.
—
An hour later they find themselves sitting in bed, backs against a headboard that's thankfully silent on the other side, shoulders brushing as they get comfortable. It'd taken a while to fully calm down after their giggle fit and still, after such a break in tension Steve felt a heat lingering in his core. So much so that he had to brave the rusty shower to deal with his problem. The smoke stained mirror, yellowed walls and piss poor water pressure did nothing to quell his need. He'd jerked off in record time and couldn't even be bothered to feel bad about it when he's sure Eddie did the same not more than five minutes later; if the choked off moan he heard from the bathroom was anything to go by.
There's still tension between them, but at least it's dissipated since their mutual, not so mutual, relief. Plus, the chill in the room doesn't really help to set a mood. Now that they're still and not all hot and bothered, the room's actually pretty damn cold. Eddie took a look at the radiator and when nothing worked he resorted to kicking it several times, only being granted a hiss from it in return. Now they're bundled up in sweaters and sweatpants, shuffling closer and closer together to steal one another's warmth. They, against Steve's better judgement, even got under the covers, pulling the comforter up to their chins as they searched the TV for a functional channel. So far the only one that seemed to be clear enough was a porno and well, after the earlier events of the evening, there's no way they were going to watch that. Which means they settled on a staticy Christmas episode of Golden Girls instead. If anything it really just provides a sound buffer to the room, it's not like they can see enough between the snowballing to understand what's going on anyways.
Eventually, even through the cold, the fear of bed bugs and the hiss of static from the TV, Steve begins to doze off. Eyes heavy and consciousness fading, he hardly registers when Eddie gets up to shut off the lights and TV, crawling back into bed to settle onto his back next to Steve. At some point apparently Steve had slumped down to the pillow from the headboard, its fabric rough and scratchy against his cheek.
He's been fighting to keep his eyes open, lashes fluttering open every few minutes to catch Eddie's profile illuminated by the lights in the parking lot that shine through the cracked window. He can't help but smile when Eddie rolls onto his side and lets their eyes meet as he whispers, “Go to sleep, Stevie.”
“M’ not tired,” Steve mumbles back, blinking slowly as he looks over Eddie's features. The darkness of his eyes, the fullness of his lips and the way his mouth curves as he sleepily smiles. He looks so soft in the light breaking into the room, the warm light like sunshine across his face. He looks so soft and warm. Pulling Steve's attention away from the man across from him, there's a loud gust of wind from outside that seems to send a breeze through the room forcing him to shiver again from the chill in the air. Pulling the blankets up high and burrowing deeper, he complains, “Too cold to sleep.”
Eddie offers nothing more than a hum in response before he's reaching for Steve and pulling him into his chest. It's almost instant relief and the complaint on the tip of Steve's tongue dies the moment he feels Eddie's arm tighten around him.
He can allow himself this right? If not for the fact that he's closer to Eddie than he ever has been, than for the sake of warmth and a moderate night's sleep. Steve hums in agreement with himself and presses closer to Eddie's chest, feeling the man's heartbeat on his cheek and the wrap of legs around his own as they become impossibly closer.
Sleep finds Steve easily soon after, the feeling of Eddie's body pressed against his own following him into his dreams.
—
***
With nothing but heat and hands and pressure wrapping around him, Steve lets the timber of Eddie's voice penetrate his skin. Words like honey in their sweetness, “Look at you Stevie, being such a Good Boy for me.”
He feels nothing and everything all at once, though it's never enough, but the touch is what he believes Eddie's hands to feel like against his skin. Warm, rough and smooth in all the right places, grabbing and pulling everywhere that it's needed.
“Such a Pretty Boy. So full.”
Steve can feel himself whine, his sleeping body pushing against the solid pressure at his backside.
He wants. He needs so bad.
“Eddie,” he feels himself gasp into the air, voice naught but desperately begging.
All he can see is light, all he can feel is love and warmth and a pressure building inside of his core that's nearing unbearable.
He wishes he could taste. The dream version of himself wanting very little more than to sink his teeth into the pale flesh he's dreamt about for years.
Into the man he's dreamt about for years.
…
***
—
Steve never does reach the end of his dream, the chill of the night and the hands tight on his body, pulling him just close enough to the cusp of consciousness that the images fade and refuse to return.
He's left with nothing but need and desire remaining in his bones as he wiggles around in bed. At some point he'd rolled over only to have Eddie pull him back against his chest, hot breath against his back and a tight grip around his waist.
Until morning he remains dead to the world and his (aside from Eddie) less than ideal surroundings.
—
Waking the next morning Steve first notices two things.
1. He's in a bed in a horribly disgusting hotel room that looks like the set of some horror film.
2. He's in a bed in a horribly disgusting hotel room that looks like the set of some horror film… and he's not alone.
And then all at once he becomes aware of a few more things.
The weight at his back and the arm around his waist, the warm heat of breath at the nape of his neck and the solid line of what he's rapidly realising is Eddie's hard dick pressed firmly against his ass.
With a sharp breath so many visions appear in Steve's mind. So many questions and a few concerns. He thinks back to his dreams of last night, of their conversation from yesterday and how he wishes it would have gone differently. He thinks about how Dream Steve had the courage to push past the tension and awkwardness and how he ended the night nude, sweaty and nearly sated. He wonders if Eddie even realises he's cuddling him, a strong arm around his waist with a nose buried in his neck. He wonders if Eddie's awake and knows he's hard and pressed so close. He wonders if when Eddie does wake if he'll go rigid and shy away or if he'll grab Steve tighter and pull him all the more closer.
He wonders what any of that could mean for them and this thing that for months, maybe even years, has been toeing the line of something.
Mind going in a million different directions, Steve's too preoccupied to even notice the way he subtly rocks his hips back. As if driven entirely by animal instinct, he bites his lip and does it again, letting a soft gasp escape his lips.
He only clues into the fact when Eddie grumbles from behind him, shifting his hand from Steve's waist to the naked edge of his hip where his sweater has ridden up and pulls Steve closer, rocking his own hips forward to meet Steve's motions. His hard cock shielded by thin layers of cotton sliding against Steve's ass.
Into the cold air of the room, Steve breathes a hardly audible, “Fuck,” and presses back once again. Maybe Eddie just stirred in his sleep, maybe he's dreaming and Steve's in the right place at the right time or maybe….
Eddie's grip on his hip tightens and Steve has to swallow the groan that tries to escape as Eddie's pulls him against his cock again, pressing his hips forward as he lets a heavy, jagged breath fall to the nape of Steve's neck, hot and damp where it falls as he says Steve's name like it's a question and a prayer.
At the confirmation that Eddie's awake, Steve can't help but push back further, feeling the grind of Eddie's dick against his ass as he bends his arm back to pull Eddie's lips closer to his neck, a hand tight in messy curls, desperate to keep him close.
That, along with the breathy, begging, “Don't you dare stop,” that leaves Steve's lips seems to be confirmation enough for Eddie as well. Steve's hardly able to finish his sentence before Eddie's mouthing at what he can reach of his neck, cutting off Steve's words with a strangled gasp.
They rock back and forth meeting each other's movements, Eddie's grip punishing on Steve's hip as Steve's is in his hair. The air of the room is quickly growing hot and polluted with the sounds of gasping breaths.
The only friction Steve's dick is granted is the wet drag of his precome dampened sweatpants and it's quickly coming to be not enough. He needs more. So much more. A hand, a mouth, whatever Eddie's willing to offer. It's after Eddie pulls him back again and whines into his neck that Steve finally asks.
“Touch me. Touch me, please.”
He can feel Eddie's smile against his skin as he answers, voice low and raspy from sleep, “Such good manners, Sweetheart.”
The bruising grip on his hip disappears only for Steve to feel the motion of Eddie's hand sliding beneath the waistband of his sweatpants. It's tight and warm when Eddie takes him in hand, his hips still rocking against Steve's ass as he squeezes and slowly drags his thumb over Steve's leaking tip.
And that's when Eddie starts talking.
“Never thought we'd get this far. Thought I'd just have to jack off to the thought of you beneath me for the rest of my life.”
Steve whines at the words, the thought of Eddie getting off to the idea of fucking him and the all encompassing everything that surrounds him.
“But look at you, Sweetheart, being such a Good Boy, using your manners, grinding that beautiful ass against me until I wake up.”
Eddie picks up his motions, rolling his wrist and smearing the slick leaking from Steve's dick down the rest of his length, not stopping until he's able to reach Steve's balls and squeeze until Steve keens and arches his back against Eddie as he continues to whisper against his neck.
“Let me guess Stevie… you're the rich asshole that'd pay for me to step on your balls? Hm?”
Emphasising his question with a mind numbing squeeze, Eddie rolls his hips again, rhythm stuttering as he bites Steve's neck and groans.
“Y-yes.” Steve stammers out, the edge of bliss quickly approaching when he decides to twist his neck and crash his lips into Eddie's.
“Yes,” he repeats again into the hardly there embrace that they're both messily clinging to. It's hardly a kiss and his neck already hurts but Steve can't get enough. They share breath and bond, spit messy between them, lips hardly meeting properly as they continue to rock against one another.
“Yes,” Steve repeats again, but for an entirely different reason, voice wrecked and letters swallowed by Eddie's tongue. He's so close to his release that when Eddie surges forward and bites his lip he can't help but topple for the edge. Hips stuttering as Eddie's hand finds his cock again and strokes him until it's edging on just too much.
Then not a moment later, no rhythm to be found and hand back to laying a brand on Steve's hip, Eddie grinds against him one last time before he shudders and breathes profanities over his tongue.
As the seconds after pass, breathes heavy and air thick, they never part and their grip hardly eases, though Steve does turn just a touch more so it's easier to reach Eddie's lips with his own. This time though as their breathing slows and their heartbeats settle, it's not as ravenous or as animalistic. It's slow, gentle, unhurried as if they have all the time in the world. Steve doesn't even have the mind to worry about what's next because this part feels easiest. The way they stay, the way they linger and tease and smile and kiss like it's something they've done a million times before.
Eventually after an unfathomable amount of time has passed and they've shared kisses and cuddles and softly spoken words, they make their way to the shower, Eddie slapping Steve's bare ass along the way.
It's awful in so many ways, the floor has rust spots and the space is hardly large enough for one man, let alone two, but they make do. It's cramped and the only way they manage to stand is in each other's arms. Eddie's around Steve's waist as he rinses him clean and Steve's around Eddie's when he does the same.
The water pressure is pathetic, and the temperature’s anything but warm, but still they stay. They let their lips press together as the water falls around them and they feel the warmth of one another's body against their own.
They tease and let lips and mouths and fingers wander. Even in the small space Eddie manages to get Steve gasping again, this time with two fingers in his mouth and one in his ass as Eddie ruts against him promising all of the vile things he'll do to him when they're somewhere safer, somewhere cleaner, somewhere that feels more like home.
When they're rinsing off for the second time, water cold as it falls to their flushed skin they can't help but giggle over the ridiculousness of it all. Sure they finally got together, pulled their heads out of their asses, but you'd think it'd have happened somewhere like their home, the apartment they've shared for years and not some horrific motel.
They dress and gather their things, hands roaming freely as they pass one another and lips meeting in soft presses when the time allows. They laugh and they giggle and they call each other idiots, because duh, how could they not have caught onto one another's flirting over the years.
When they decide to brave the cold they're greeted with blue skies and the promise of a safer drive back to Hawkins.
Eddie's hardly out of the door when he trips, finding himself caught in Steve's grasp as he notices the folded sheets sitting on the ground in front of their door with a note pinned to the top that reads, ‘You sounded a little busy. Figured I'd leave you to your fun. ♡ Mary-Sue’
Eddie snorts a laugh, pockets the note and picks up the sheets while Steve flushes red and hides his face in the back of Eddie's neck.
—
They check out, leaving the fresh sheets on the countertop with parting a wink from Mary-Sue and a coupon for the diner down the road.
It's noon before they manage to leave town, but when they do their bellies are full and their hearts are happy.
—
Over the next few hours they make their way to Hawkins, stopping occasionally for gas, snacks or if Steve has anything to do with it, a very impromptu make out session.
Like right now.
Sure the tension had finally snapped between them, but now that Steve was allowed to touch, allowed to do all of the things his dirty little mind had conjured in the last few years, he wasn't going to waste any time.
They'd pulled over a few times already for Steve to climb into Eddie's lap and kiss him stupid, but now he had a little more on his mind.
It'd started with an innocent hand on Eddie's thigh that climbed higher and higher as time went on until Steve could brush a knuckle against the inseam of Eddie's jeans.
And from there, aside from the skidding stop Eddie made into a gas station parking lot, they made their way to the back of the van. Eddie had thrown the vehicle into park only to grab Steve by the hand and pull him with the force of a man starved into the back, crashing their lips together and unbuttoning their jeans with a blur of haste.
Duffle bags and Christmas gifts at their feet, they share breath and shuddered words, as their hands fly with intensity over one another's hardness. It takes no time at all for the spit they'd used as lube to be accompanied by a mess of white, their knuckles covered in a combination of their desperation until Steve licks Eddie's hand clean, along with his own.
Turns out, when they're as clean as they can manage and stumble out of the back of the van, they're in Hawkins. Or more specifically, the parking lot of the ratty gas station just across the town's limits.
Eddie snorts when they catch a familiar face wave at them from across the parking lot. Someone from high school, a jock Steve remembers from the basketball team and Eddie had probably known from his previous career as a drug dealer, surly visiting family of his own for the holidays. A man hopefully clueless to the events that just transpired in the back of the van.
Steve waves and reaches for Eddie's hand to drag him away before he can begin a conversation with the man. He knows if Eddie had the chance he'd happily shake the previous jock's hand with remnants of Steve's come dried to his palm, the sick fucker.
—
They wash their hands and straighten themselves out from the dishevelled messes they were in the restroom mirrors. Graffiti and odd memories from their past surround them in the oddly familiar space. Eddie having done many of drug deals between the four cinder block walls and Steve participating in other nefarious activities. Activities of which Steve can't help but giggle at while he watches Eddie sputter at the admittance.
Eddie snorts again, a trait Steve seems to love more and more every time he does it, while he looks back at Steve through the mirror, disbelief colouring his face, “You did not hook up with some chick in here. The poor girl. Steve. There's no way.”
Steve shrugs, fingers tracing over the colourful walls, while he wanders and nonchalantly admits, “Never said it was with a girl.”
He can hear Eddie pause, breath caught in his lungs before he lets out a shuddering breath and turns to Steve while leaning against the countertop, arms crossed over his chest before he whispers, more to himself than Steve, “Why's that so hot?”
Steve shrugs again but pauses his meaningless wandering to step closer to Eddie, their toes nearly touching as he invades the other man's space. Confidence he hadn't had a day ago flows through his veins like lava when he reaches out to take a chunk of Eddie's hair and twirls it between his fingers, pulling the man closer until their breaths are shared.
“Tell me,” Eddie whispers, words catching on Steve's lips as they lean closer together and his hands find Steve's hips, calloused fingers skimming beneath his shirt to press against warm skin.
It's so stupid, anyone could walk in, they're in a public space for God's sake. In Hawkins of all places. Not to mention that whoever walks through that door they'd probably know. But knowing that information only makes Steve press closer, the growing need in his pants pressed against Eddie's own as he answers back, voice so sultry it even makes him shiver.
“Gave my first blow job in that stall,” he says while nodding his head back to the stall in the corner, “Got my first from a guy in there too.”
Eddie swallows, already looking ravenous when Steve chances a glance, pupils blown so wide his eyes nearly look black.
“Let a guy fuck me too,” Steve adds, hips rolling forward while he nips at Eddie's bottom lip and ventures southward, licking at the man's pulse, continuing, “right against this counter.”
Steve's hands find the sharp edges of Eddie's hips and pull him impossibly closer, burying his face in the warmth of flushed skin just beneath Eddie's ear, when he adds, “Kinda wished it was you, even back then.”
Eddie groans and lets his head fall back further, exposing his neck all the more for Steve to bite at and rocking his hips forward to press into Steve's.
“Tell me more,” Eddie breathes into the air with the gentle command, one hand finding the back of Steve's head where ringed fingers weave into chestnut locks and grip tight, “Tell me what a slut you were, Sweetheart.”
Steve shudders and tries to not melt at Eddie's tone and the grip in his hair, he'd felt like he'd had the upper hand, but as he licks and laves at Eddie's skin and the grip in his hair grows tighter he can feel himself slipping.
“Liked the way he pulled my hair and made me watch in the mirror,” he shudders at the thought, picturing Eddie doing the same, “m’ and the way the countertop left bruises on my hips.”
Feeling like he's floating from the taste of Eddie's skin alone, Steve gasps when Eddie spins them around, turning Steve to face the mirror as he presses against his back, one hand tight in his hair, forcing him to look at their reflection just like Steve had imagined. Eddie's other hand reaches down, cupping Steve over his jeans and squeezing as he speaks against Steve's ear, maintaining eye contact through the mirror. “You want me to do that for you?” Eddie asks, his grip tightening at every point of contact as he continues, “Want me to bruise you up, Baby? Treat you like a whore and let you walk into Christmas all marked up?”
Steve tries to nod, vision blurring at the edges as it pulls at his hair more and his knees feel even weaker. “Yes,” he barely manages to breathe out, picturing the bruises on his hips, the marks from Eddie's teeth, forgetting entirely why they're in this restroom in the first place.
Feeling as though if Eddie were to let go he'd slide to the floor, Steve tries to lean back further, letting Eddie take more of his weight as he feels the rise and fall of the man's chest against his back.
God, he'd want nothing more.
He can feel Eddie emit something of a growl against his neck as he begins to pull at the tongue of Steve's belt, leather snapping and metal clanking in the emptiness of the room they occupy.
Eddie's hand is down Steve's underwear, grip nearly punishing when he feels the man speak against his ear again, “I'm gonna be-”
*BANG*
“WHAT THE FUCK?!” comes the sharp shriek of Robin's voice and for a minute Steve thinks he's in the middle of a nightmare. He and Eddie freeze as though if they don't move she can't see them, Eddie's one hand in Steve's underwear, fingers still holding him tight in hand and the other only barely loosening the grip in his hair.
“Oh my god,” they hear whispered from the doorway Robin's still standing in, the door she had aggressively flung open now sitting wide open for the world to see. “Like… woo, you got together after years of being idiots,” she coughs as the pair continue to remain still, “but um… Eddie, is your hand still in Steve's pants?”
All romance and heat sucked from the room, Steve can't help but snicker as Eddie pulls his hand free to rest on his stomach, his other hand soon following, both now only holding Steve close to his chest as he whispers sheepishly, “Not anymore.”
There's the unmistakable chime of Nancy's voice calling for Robin, soon followed by a giggle from the door that they can only assume now means Nancy's there too.
“Nice to see you two finally got together.” The young woman confirms her presence by adding to the conversation.
Eddie groans from behind him, letting his head fall to hide against Steve's shoulder, while he himself finally gains the energy to turn and look at the girls who appear far too giddy for what they just witnessed, “What are you even doing here? This is the men's room.”
Robin levels him with a look that says ‘you think I care, Dingus?’ as she carelessly strides into the restroom and lets a stall door fall shut behind her as Nancy remains at the entrance, shrugging as if she's gotten used to her girlfriends antics.
“I needed to pee and the ladies restroom was closed.” Robin says matter-of-factly, from behind the metal door as she does her business. “Wanna explain what you're doing in here?” Nancy raises a manicured brow to accompany the other woman's question and Steve can only imagine Robin's accusing expression.
“We-” he starts, only to be pulled closer by Eddie and feel a kiss to his shoulder before he's interrupted by the man, “Well, the plan was Steve, I'd have you know. But, thanks to your barging in, I'd say my chances of that are now less than zero, Buckley.”
Robin lets out a loud cackle as she flushes and re-emerges to wash her hands at the sink next to them, looking with a pointed brow from Steve to his still clearly undone pants. “Clean yourself up, Babe,” she tuts, “we're supposed to be at the Hopper-Byer’s in an hour.”
And with that she flicks her hands dry, finishing the job by flapping them as she walks to the door, spraying both men with water, until she yells, “Love you!” and leaves the door to slam shut behind her, Nancy most likely by her side giggling on their way back to the car.
Steve and Eddie stand there for a minute, Eddie's arms still around Steve's waist as he props his head on Steve's shoulder to look at him in the mirror.
Steve can't help but smile at the site, sure his pants are undone and they almost fucked in the Hawkins gas station restroom, but still, it's kinda sweet, kinda laughable, and all kinds ridiculous.
Eddie kisses his cheek and smiles back, whispering with mischief in his tone, “So, a bit of an exhibitionist are we, Sweetheart?”
“Shut up,” Steve huffs, lightly bunting Eddie's head with the side of his own.
“Makes sense,” Eddie says with a shrug, dark eyes glittering in their reflection, lips pulling into a bright smile as he kisses Steve's cheek again, “I'd presume most hookers are.”
—
Thirty minutes later they find themselves ambushed by hugs and wails of ‘Why weren't you here yesterday?!’ the kids being just as upset with their late arrival as Steve had guessed. But it's nice to be surrounded by family again otherwise, Joyce pulling both him and Eddie into a crushing hug, Hopper slapping them both on the shoulders and handing them a beer the moment they walk through the door and Wayne pulling Eddie into a hug only to whisper something in his ear that forces the man into a serious blush.
Across the room Robin sits in Nancy's lap where she, the moment no one's looking, makes the gesture of giving a blow job, forcing Nancy into a fit of giggles while she tries to pull Robin's hand away from her mouth.
Once the kids have finally bored themselves with giving both Steve and Eddie shit, Steve makes his way over to Robin, flicking her in the forehead when he reaches her, hissing, “You're a pain in my ass, you know that right?”
Robin stares at him for a moment, Nancy's arms snug around her waist again as her blue eyes dart to Steve's side where Eddie's appeared. The metalhead's ringed hand is warm where it gently settles at the small of Steve's back, only for him to notice the smirk Robin gives him as she hisses back, “No. But I bet Eddie is.”
It's Eddie's turn to flick Robin then, joining the conversation, “You know for a fact you interrupted that opportunity, Buckley.”
“So you weren't just standing in the mirror with your hand in Steve's pants?” Nancy decides to butt in, much to Robin's delight if the grin that spreads across her face is anything to go by.
Both boys refuse to answer knowing that if anything they can't win an argument against Nancy Wheeler.
But Robin looks like she hasn't even started, a menacing look on her face as she glances between the three around her, mouth opening to say lord knows what before Hopper's yelling over the chaos of the house, “Suppers ready shit birds!” Joyce's immediate scolding of her husband follows.
“You know,” Robin says, extracting herself from Nancy's lap, eyes still focused on Steve as she rises, “this doesn't mean you're off the hook. I want details, Dingus. All of them.”
“I don't think you do, Birdie,” Eddie chimes, singing his way out of the room, hand outstretched to pull Steve behind him.
“All. Of. Them.” Robin repeats with a concerning look, pinching Steve's side as she passes him into the kitchen.
—
Steve doesn't share the dirty details of his now…relationship? with Eddie, with Robin just yet, but he knows he will have to in the near future. He knows the girl won't give up.
But for now, he enjoys Christmas with his friends and family, Robin to his left and Eddie to his right and everyone else he loves surrounding him.
He doesn't know what he and Eddie are, they never really had that conversation, but really, Steve doesn't feel like they have to. It feels special, permanent, it feels easy.
Easy like knowing their lives will hardly change when they head back to Chicago. That, yeah, maybe they'll share a bed and be closer in all the ways that matter most, but Steve will still wake up every morning with Eddie being at the forefront of his mind and go to sleep every night happy that the man is a part of his life at all. Just now, maybe Eddie will be laying by his side when those thoughts cross his mind.
As a hand lays on his thigh and he turns to look at the man he's pretty sure he loves, Steve can't help but smile. Eddie's grin matching his own.
Maybe Eddie was thinking the same thing.
“Merry Christmas, Sweetheart,” Eddie whispers, grip tight on Steve's thigh as he leans over and presses a kiss to Steve's cheek.
“Merry Ch-”
“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!”
“DUSTIN!”
“EDDIE JUST KISSED STEVE, DID NO ONE ELSE SEE THAT?!”
The chaos further erupts as questions soar and Eddie only makes things worse by grabbing Steve by the cheeks and pulling him in for a searing, sloppy, life long kiss.
#steddiewinteroneshotexchange#stranger things#stranger things fanfiction#strangerthings#Steddie Winter One Shot Exchange#stranger things christmas#stranger things smut#steddie#steddie fanfiction#steddie fandom#steddie christmas#eddie munson#steve harrington#steve x eddie#eddie x steve#steddie fic#steddie smut#roommates#road trip#christmas#christmas fic#crack fic#no beta we die like men
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Everything at Hillerska seemed bigger than it was in Bjärstad, though not always for the best. Since his first day of school, Simon had realized that every action, every person, and every word spoken at Hillerska was larger than life. Everything was extravagant, luxurious. If it wasn’t dramatic, it wasn’t worth doing.
Rich people were weird like that.
Eight Minutes on AO3
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Hi friends! I wrote a lil thing for my dearest @stretchoutfics for Christmas. I was incredibly nervous because I admire her so so much. I'm glad she liked it and I hope y'all do too💜
#zee writes shit#young royals fic#yr christmas fics#fic exchange#wilmon fic#young royals fanfic#wilmon fanfic#wilmon#young royals
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Let Me Be the Fire That Keeps You Warm
For: @lorifragolina
Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson
Rating: General Audiences
Wordcount: 3,755
Warnings: No Warnings
Tags: Everybody Lives, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, Cuddling, Winter fic, Traditions, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Movies, I think I name drop a few specials, Fluff, Steve Harrington Has Good Parents, Good Uncle Wayne Munson, (but he's not there), Platonic Soulmates Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington, (she is also not there)
Summary: In December 1986, Steve and Eddie are getting ready to celebrate their first Christmas together, in their new apartment, and in a new city. Change isn't easy though, and Steve's been hit with a bad case of homesickness. Good thing Eddie knows just how to make him feel better.
This fic is a part of the @steddieholidayexchange
#ohstars fic#steddie fic#steddie#stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson#christmas fic#steddie holiday exchange#fluff
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a thief and a liar
S7 | Alex x MC | 7,000+ words | @0shewrites0
for @ellegreenwxy 🎄
synopsis | When Melissa Cartwright comes home for Christmas for the first time in five years, she doesn’t expect to have her whole life suddenly hanging by a loose thread. She especially doesn’t expect to have her ex boyfriend, the one that got away (kinda?), be the reason for it.
Loosely inspired by Confetti And Roses by James Blunt.
genre | angst with a happy ending. fluff. the one that got away-ish. second chance romance. christmas themed. hallmark type of fic.
rating | M (mature)
Read on ao3.
#litg#litg fanfic#litg ff#litg fanfiction#litg alex#litg s7#litg stick or twist#litg gift exchange#christmas fic
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It's Officially Christmas
Merry Christmas @toomanybandstocare!!!! I'm your secret santa for @ghostofskywalker's Life Day Exchange for the @cloneficgiftexchange! Ironically, it also works out for the @clonexreaderbingo because Cody was on my card as well as one you requested :D I really hope you like it. It wasn't quite how I wanted it, because I love love love expanding stories so they go one forever but I ran out of time. This is just a bit of fluff and happiness for the Christmas season!!! Hope you're having a good one!
Cody sighed with an exhale, rubbing circles on his forehead, just tracing the scar around his eye he had gotten during his active military duty. Highly decorated, Colonel “Commander” Cody of the Armed Forces was currently struggling to complete his college semester still holding onto his sanity intact. Christmas was close, which meant fun and freedom were just in sight.
And to be honest, he could use some. It had been quite some time since he’d felt either of those things.
Just the previous year, he’d been discharged early from the military due to family hardships. His adoptive father, Ninety-Nine, had fallen seriously ill which resulted in much limited mobility and flagging health, though he was stubbornly holding on. Ninety-Nine was tough in his own way and not easily knocked down and never let his disabilities limit him. He honestly was one of Cody’s biggest heroes for just that fact alone. No one was more inspiring than Ninety-Nine.
To top off the struggle, his half-brother, Fives, was killed in action, while his other half-brother, Echo, was seriously wounded. This had dampened (but not destroyed) Ninety-nine’s spirits which slowed his healing. Cody had come back to take care of the family broken by loss.
The family.
And what a family it was: a mix-matched group of boys and a sickly older man but they belonged together.
Ninety-nine had taken care of all the Fett boys in some way or another after they’d been abandoned by their father Jango. He’d been the one to find Plo Koon who fostered and eventually adopted Wolffe, Sinker and Boost—but he’d raised under his own roof a rowdy bunch which included himself, Rex, Fives, Echo, and the Quadruplets (Cody didn’t know if technically Se or Fett was more accurate for them) soon nicknamed ‘the bad batch’.
And it was these that Cody called family. Home. It wouldn’t be complete totally again, but they could heal — and he’d do whatever he could, nay, he wouldn’t rest, until they did.
More than anything Cody wanted to take care of Ninety-nine, especially in the beginning. And that he did, but because Cody was an overachiever—he’d signed up for college classes as well. Then he added a job on the side to match; a small part of him regretted it. It was getting to be a lot, but joining the military right out of high school wasn’t easy either, so if he could make it then, he could do this now, he reasoned.
That was a year ago now, and Ninety-Nine was finally on the mend.
This year would be special, since everyone—well almost everyone—was going to be home. The first year since they’d all left, that they’d be back.
They’d be back. Home, and together again.
Like they should be.
Echo was finally released from the hospital, healing from his extensive injuries and adjusting to his prothstetics, and the quadruplets’ tour was finally over. Though none of them were injured, it wasn’t without repercussions either.
“Hurry up, Cody, or we’ll be late!” a shout broke him from his musings. “And don’t forget the basket!”
The Fetts were on their way to a dance—a Christmas dance—hosted by their longtime family friends the Jetti’s, and there was going to be an auction for charity, sleigh rides, and everything, as they did every year. Ninety-Nine insisted on bringing something to join the auction every year and this was no exception. Even when they couldn’t make it to the dances, Ninety-Nine was giving something.
Cody wasn’t much of a dancer. He never cared to go to them much. But for some reason he was really looking forward to it this year. Perhaps because it was Christmas, and magic had a way of creeping into people’s ordinary lives, transforming into something beautiful and new.
And it was this Christmas hope that kindled something warm inside his heart, and excitement.
— — — — —
The room was alive with flashes of color and the sound of music, laughing and cheering. The pitter pattering of feet was just as loud as the happiness of those in the room excitedly making known to each other through various conversations and well wishes. Quick steps made their own rhythm and stories which echoed off the dance floor.
It was at this moment you felt beautiful, standing under the Christmas lights and bathing in the general glee and spirit of the room. Your throat squeezed as if holding in a laugh and a smile pulled at your lips so much your mouth hurt, but in a good way. The Christmas magic worked its way through your veins. The tingling of invincible tinsel tickled your fingertips, an energy flowing through you which was contagious. Smiles you sent to others were easily returned and frowns turned upside down.
It was at this particular moment, the Fett family walked in.
The name wouldn’t have meant much to you in normal circumstances. Why would that name stick out among so many others who were there?
But you had a reason for knowing it, and his name was Cody.
You saw him leading his train of brothers in through the door, guiding the old man by the arm. He flashed his charming smile to the host and exchanged hands.
The music started up again and your sister grabbed your hand, dragging you into the ring or people forming a group dance with interchanging partners. You had to focus, otherwise you’d lose your step.
It was only two seconds, but in those two, the entire Fett family was dispersed throughout the room and you lost all track of where Cody had gone.
— — —
Moving lithley, you kept up with the music and the people twirling and leaping around you. The dance went in a circular motion and patterns were interchanged. You clapped and danced and laughed along with everyone else, pushing yourself to go faster and faster as the song was ending.
Twirling and twirling you finished with a bang.
You looked up and saw you were in Cody’s arms, who looked just as shocked as you did to see you there.
Then he froze there, mouth slightly agape. His eyes danced across your face and his slight panting may have been more than just catching his breath from the dance. He swallowed nervously.
“Um, hello.” He stuttered nervously.
“Hello yourself,” you smiled back reassuringly, “nice to run into you.”
Cody chuckled a little at that, then a silence fell between the two of you.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare! It’s just...you look so beautiful underneath the holiday lights.”
You chuckled at his embarrassed realization. Cody turned pink and looked like he wanted to cave in on himself, which you had to say was really adorable and made you laugh harder. The thought of the brave warrior being startled into a stuttering school boy because of you.
The sound of your laughter filled the air with a contagious glint of mirth. Soon, Cody found himself laughing too.
The music started up again and people took their places all around the two of you.
“Would you, um, care to go again?” he asked, holding out his hand.
“Gladly!”
Not just one song but two that soon turned into three. When you were tired, you headed off to the corner to drink hot cocoa and watch the others. You were so caught up in talking to each other that you hadn’t realized that the time ran late into the night. It was near midnight when you sighed and looked at your watch.
“Well, I’ll see you around.” You finally said a little sadly. Just because Christmas was around the corner didn’t mean all the work was done. You had one more paper to write before you were free.
“I hope so!” He responded genuinely which just made you laugh again.
“Oh you definitely will. I sit two rows behind you and three seats to your left in class.”
Cody gawked.
You couldn’t have?! He’d surely have noticed you?!
“I even asked you for notes once. And, you also asked me for notes once too.”
His mind was racing, trying to think back to those times to verify the claims with his memory.
You chuckled lightly.
“I don’t expect you to remember though. You were always very preoccupied, with good reason. Your cousin, Waxer, told me the whole story.”
Big mouth Waxer. Could have counted on him to blab the whole story to everyone (though in this case Cody was grateful he did, not that he would admit that.)
“I have to say, I would have done anything for you. You had to just give me a chance.”
“Oh, you don’t have to be so drastic, darling,” he smirked, “I’m here now, and I’m all yours. After class tomorrow, would you want to go skating?”
"It's a date!"
Now, it was officially Christmas.
#LDE23#clone fic gift exchange#clone and reader bingo#commander cody#Modern AU#cody x reader#think Kingdom Dance from Tangled only it's Christmas and Star Wars#name inspired by Dan and Shay's song--really don't have much to do with the story :D#meet cute
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babe wake up it’s lynthia fic exchange week
#i’m full of so much glee#like a kid on christmas i stg#guys which one do you think is mine 🤭#bonk thoughts#grease rise of the pink ladies#rotpl#lynthia#lynthia fic exchange
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Read on Ao3
Henrik x MC enemies/rivals to lovers
A gift for the amazing @chroniccomicobsession
Summary:
When Junie's parents gave her the family's dying Christmas tree farm, she was full of optimism and ideas to turn things around - but the very same year, the Bergström brothers arrived to the village, opening a bigger and better one.
And, well, things went from sort of okay to pretty fucking dire.
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Hunter and Vee have history together, so the situation is a little awkward when Hunter and his friends arrive on the Nocedas' doorstep after the Day of Unity.
This is my gift for @zyrafowe-sny! I'm your Secret Santa, and I hope you like your gift.
This fic is my contribution for @ficexchangecoven2023!
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You're the home my heart searched for so long [NSFW]
You're the home my heart searched for so long
For: helix_stomper
Beta reader: @readerofportrait
Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington, previous Steve Harrington/Original Character
Rating: Explicit
Wordcount: 15k
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Tags: Modern AU, Alternative Universe No Upside Down, Shrek References, Anal Sex, Rimming, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Misunderstandings, Spa Owner Eddie Munson, Famous Influencer Steve Harrington, Dad Steve Harrington, Smut, Massage, Masseur Eddie Munson, Bisexual Steve Harrington
Summary: Eddie and Steve used to be friends until high school, when Steve became the school sweetheart and Eddie the local freak.
Years later, Steve is a famous influencer and he is back in Hawkins to help promote the local shops including Eddie's Spa; but many things have changed during the years, the biggest one? Steve has a daughter.
This fic is a part of the @steddieholidayexchange
A brief snippet under the cut!
If there is someone that Eddie can’t really stand is fucking Steve Harrington. They used to be friends once, but that was ages ago, before the hormones transformed Steve into an alpha guy with all his stupid minions. The Steve he loved was a little dork who used to go to school with a lovely green raincoat and green rain boots with some cute little frogs, he wore glasses so thick that his eyes looked super small behind the glass making him look even more dorky. He was a good guy, the one that used to sit with him at recess, the one that he used to tell stories to. Not this one. Not the super famous Influencer that is getting on the stage of the little town fair. “He is super famous Eddie! He will help us get more visibility!” Dustin has tried to convince him, but Eddie is still pissed, the only good thing is that Chrissy volunteers not only to organize the little fair but also to work at the little stand dedicated to Eddie’s Spa, so he is not supposed to see Steve for more than five seconds. The boy will make a live on his social media, trying to promote his hometown and his friends' activity, and then he will go back with some super fancy car to his mansion in Los Angeles, or was it San Francisco? Not that Eddie really cares anyway, Steve can go to fuck himself where the hell he wants to. “Look! He is here! He is really here!” Dustin is too fucking excited and Eddie is so tired to be dragged everywhere. “I see him Dustin.” “Go talk to him! You used to be friends, right?” Dustin asks him, trembling with excitement. Eddie shrugs “That was ages ago, I’m sure he doesn’t even remember me anymore.” Chrissy sighs from the stand, she knows something about Eddie’s past, she knows that Eddie was a dealer and that he had the biggest crush ever on the boy that is smiling at the crowd, greeting them and signing autographs like a movie star.
READ MORE ON AO3
#steddie holiday exchange#steddie#steddie fic#stranger things fanfic#my fanfic#famous influencer steve harrington#spa owner Eddie Munson#steve harrington#eddie munson#merry xmas#Christmas presents 2023#medusapelagia#medusapelagia fanfic
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