#christmas in the old man’s hat
Text
Those Christmas Lights (light up the street)
Dean Winchester x child!reader
Summary: It’s Jack’s first Christmas, you want to get Dean a special present, and Cas makes terrible eggnog
Warnings: 13+, slight kidnapping, slight throwing up, not edited yet
Word Count: 8,5k
A/N: this is my way of wishing you all a very merry Christmas! whether you’re celebrating today, tomorrow, or in January (or any other day) - merry christmas and also a happy new year!
It was on a Sunday when you decided that you wanted to celebrate Christmas this year. You were looking through some old boxes, when you came across an ornament you made with Ellen and Jo back when you lived at the Roadhouse.
It was a colorful star folded out of red and yellow colored paper. It spun back and forth on a golden thread as you held it up.
When you were still celebrating, before you moved into the bunker with Sam and Dean, and all the holidays kind of faded into the background. You looked at the slightly crumpled star. Maybe it was time to revive some traditions.
As you entered the kitchen, you were greeted by the smell of fried bacon and eggs and the sight of the Winchester brothers, who seemed to have been awake a little longer. Or hadn't slept at all.
As you entered the kitchen, you were greeted by the smell of fried bacon and eggs and the sight of the Winchester brothers, who seemed to have been awake a little longer. Or hadn't slept at all.
The equivalent of blooming life as Dean, seated on the table, stared into his half-filled cup as if the black coffee in it would give him back his lost sleep. Sam was standing by the sink, scrubbing a clean plate in circular motions - and had been for several minutes.
It seemed like yesterday's hunt had demanded a lot from both of them. You cautiously entered the kitchen and waited for them to notice you. But both seemed caught up in their own tired thoughts, which is why you cleared your throat to draw attention to yourself. Sam's head shot up while Dean only slowly turned his in the bare minimum to signal that he knew you were here.
"I was thinking," you began, and Dean snorted into his cup as he lifted it to his lips. "That doesn't sound good."
You ignored him and continued talking undeterred. "I think we should celebrate Christmas this year."
Sam stopped in his bid to wash the plate and eyed you. "Christmas?" he asked and you nodded. "Yes, exactly."
"What makes you think of that now?" Dean's sleepy-sluggish voice came from the kitchen table.
"First of all, I think we need a break," you explained as you sat down across from Dean at the kitchen table. "And second, that would be Jack's first Christmas. He would experience something other than the torment that the world has to bring, but more - joy and warmth. I think we owe him that.”
Dean frowned. "First of all," he said, sort of mocking you, and raising his index finger, "we don't need a break. We're fine.”
You shot him a look. "If Sam keeps scrubbing that plate over there, it's going to have a hole in it eventually."
The dishes rattled as Sam put his plate on the pile next to the sink.
"And second, Jack has it great with us," Dean continued, ignoring your comment.
"Mm-hm, sure," you said in a sarcastic tone. "I'm sure the end of the world and the inheritance of Lucifer was nothing short of a dream from a first year of life."
Dean just shrugged and took another sip from his cup.
"I'm not even talking about a big Christmas," you tried to argue further, "It doesn't have to involve gifts, or Elf on the Shelf, or anything like that. Just some decorations, and a tree, and maybe some nice food. That's it."
You gave both of them pleading looks, but a little more to Sam because he was always a bit easier to convince for such things than your father.
Sam cleared his throat and reached for the next plate to clean it. "I mean, the idea doesn't sound that bad," he said, and a smile spread across your lips.
But Dean's head was spinning so fast you thought he was going to snap his neck.
“That’s coming from you?”, he asked incredulously, "what happened to your whole 'I hate holidays of any kind' attitude?"
Sam shrugged and looked down at his dishes like it was the most interesting thing in the world. "Y/N is right. We could probably use a break. And treat Jack to something that doesn't put him in danger or involve hunting something? Doesn't sound so bad."
Dean looked at his brother like he just told him he fucked an archangel. He narrowed his eyes hard once, then slowly turned back to you and took another sip of his coffee. "Then the verdict was well passed," he murmured dramatically.
You smiled and banged your flat hands on the table in excitement. "Thank you!" you said happily and jumped up. "I'll tell Jack." And with that you were out of the kitchen again.
Dean waited until he was sure you were out of earshot, then turned to Sam. "Not a bad idea? What happened to you?”
Sam ignored his brother and began to put the plates back in the shelves. In the process, he had to move some misplaced cups and bowls out of the way. Apparently Castiel had cleared out the dishwasher again.
"We've got two kids here now, Dean," Sam said. "Although one of them looks more like a twenty-two year-old, but still." He closed the cabinet doors and made his way out of the kitchen.
"Don't ruin the Christmas spirit, Dean!" he called out.
"The Christmas spi- Since when are you interested in Christmas?" Dean was outraged, but Sam couldn't - or didn't want to - hear him anymore.
—
Dean Winchester was a complicated man about a lot of things. Feelings, interpersonal relationships, trust, feelings. But he was definitely simple in one thing: his interests.
In your opinion, Dean Winchester could be described as a nerd, even if you would never tell him that to his face. That was a realization you made to yourself at one point and one that you would keep to yourself.
But this realization made it easy for you to choose a gift for him. Yes, you said no presents this Christmas, but that wasn't a rule, more a persuasion tactic to get Sam and Dean to celebrate it with you.
But secretly you knew exactly what you would get Dean. And you knew where to get it, too, but you'd have to sneak away from the watchful eyes of your family first. Under a good pretext, of course. And you actually already had it.
With a small cloth bag on your shoulder, for money and later the gift you would come back with, you entered the Crows Nest, where Dean and Cas sat bent over a piece of paper - actually, Cas stood - and were discussing something.
Dean looked up when he saw you coming and eyed the bag with suspicion. "Where are you going?"
You stopped just short of the stairs up. "Buy a Christmas tree," you lied, "I figured better late than never."
A few days had passed since you had had the conversation with Sam and Dean in the kitchen, and the subject of Christmas hadn't been explicitly brought up since.
The bunker still had its old, undecorated glory (if you could call it that) and from the looks of it, Dean was already keeping his eyes out for a new hunt.
You could tell from the brief, confused look that flitted across his face when you said the words "Christmas" and "tree" to him, but he skilfully covered it up with a clearing of his throat.
"That's right, there was something," he said and you raised your eyebrows. Just as you were about to go up the stairs, you heard Dean's voice say, "Take Jack with you."
You stopped abruptly and slowly turned in the direction of your father, who was looking up at you together with the angel.
"Jack?" you repeated questioningly. "Why that?"
Not that you had a problem with that, no, no. But the thing is, you wanted to buy a secret gift for Dean, and Jack, well. He wasn't very good with secrets. Not even on purpose. But the ability to distinguish relevant information to be released from information that should be kept private was sometimes difficult for him.
Dean leaned back in his chair. "Well, you said that one of the reasons that you suddenly went all Whoville was because you wanted to show Jack the good side of life. So take him with you. Buy a Christmas tree.”
Cas next to him nodded. "I think that sounds like a very good idea too."
Dean pointed to Cas behind him and made a face that clearly said ‘See?’.
You resisted the urge to roll your eyes and protest as you reluctantly tramped back down the stairs and set off in search of the Nephilim.
When the heavy door of the bunker closed again a few minutes later behind the two of you, Cas turned a little critically to Dean and asked: "What did you mean when you talked about Christmas?"
"Huh?" Dean only looked up briefly from the spell they had been eyeing before he understood Cas' question and gave his attention back to the piece of paper.
“Ah yes, Y/N got it in their head that we really need to celebrate Christmas this year. Something about we need a break and Jack needs to get to know the good things in life. That whole crap.” He waved it off and read an ingredient out loud. "Lamprocapnos spectabilis. What's that supposed to mean? If witches write stuff like that, then please do it in a way that I don't need a doctor's degree to understand all of it!"
"But if today is Christmas Eve," Cas continued, without paying much attention to Dean's tantrum, "Why do you not see that anywhere here?" He looked around. "Excuse my bluntness, but I think it looks as barren as ever."
Dean put his head in his hands and stifled a groan. "That's because nobody has hung anything up yet, Cas," he growled to the angel.
Ca's frown deepened. "But why? If Y/N wishes-"
"I don't know if you've noticed, Cas, but we've been a little busy kicking the devil's ass back to hell lately, so sorry if I don't put myself in white and red dress-up and hop around shouting Ho-Ho-Ho!”
Castiel rolled his shoulders back and cocked his chin. His eyes sparkled angrily. "Dean,” he said, “Your child has never asked for anything before. Only ever did what you wanted to keep you satisfied. I think you can grant them this one wish.”
Dean wanted to say something, but Cas had already turned away and headed for the library. "Now if you'll excuse me, I will go find Sam and look for something to decorate with him. So we can celebrate Christmas.”
And with that he was gone, leaving Dean alone in the Crows Nest, parchment still on the table and head thrown back in annoyance.
—
While the adults stayed back in the bunker, you and Jack had taken it upon yourselves to pick a fitting Christmas tree. You had taken the Impala to a nearby village, which’s advertisement told you that you would find some here.
Now you were following the written signs, Jack trailing slightly behind you.
“What are we even looking for in a Christmas tree?” Jack suddenly asked and you shrugged.
“Well, nothing specific, really. Just a tall pine tree, which we will put in the bunker and then we’ll decorate it with some ornaments, tinsel, and maybe candy canes.”
“What are those?”
“What are what?”
“Candy canes. What are those?”
You stopped dead in your tracks and turned to Jack with a look of disbelief on your face. “You don’t- you don’t know what candy canes are?” You asked.
Jack frowned. “No,” he said.
“But you know about punch, right?” You asked. “And candied apples? And roasted almonds?”
Jack’s frown deepened and turned into a thinking pout. “No, I don’t.”
You couldn’t believe it. Jack Kline, the nephilim, the most powerful being in this universe, was standing in front of you and telling you he didn’t know the most important elements of a successful Christmas time.
Then again, his multi-dimensional knowledge maybe didn’t apply to the nostalgic beings of life.
Curtly, you took Jack’s hand and began pulling him after you. “Well then it’s about time I introduce you.”
“And what about the Christmas tree?” Jack asked. “I think they’ll survive if it reaches the bunker a few hours later,” you calmed him down. And with that, you took course towards a constellation of small huts, with crowds of people standing around and chattering, an excited Jack Kline in tow.
—
Annoyed and yet willing - as you know him - Dean Winchester stood on a long ladder and tied a few loose fir branches to the banister with some wool, which Sam hung with small bells.
It had taken a few hours, and yet they had made it.
“Wow Sam, the decoration we found in your room was indeed enough,” Castiel praised as he admired a wreath hanging from the archway.
Sam smiled and tied one last bell in a pine branch. Then he handed it to Dean.
"I still think we should hang up mistletoe," Sam said conspiratorially and Dean almost fell off the ladder.
"No," the older one decided firmly when he'd recovered. "Absolutely not."
When he wasn't looking, Sam mocked him with grimaces. "Alright, Grinch," he murmured under his breath and got an "I heard that!" thrown at him by his older brother.
Sam shook his head nonchalantly, preferring to step back to survey the work they'd done. Glittering garlands with bows hung over the individual exits from the crows nest, and small wreaths could be seen here and there on the doors. The dancing branches that Dean was hanging up were made from found branches and some loose decorations that they had found in Sam's box.
All in all it didn't look too bad. Dean himself was surprised what his little brother had hidden in his room.
“So” The older one finally climbed down from the ladder and looked at his work on the banister. "Not too bad," he stated, and Sam also knew that this would be the highest level of enthusiasm for the decoration that Dean would show them.
"When we're done here," Castiel said, a slight smile curling his lips, "then I would retire to the kitchen for a little while. I still have work to do there." Before either brother could react, he was gone again.
"Hate it when he does that," Dean gruntled, but proceeded to quietly put the ladder away.
—
Some time and many market stalls later, Jack and you were standing around a small, round table, steaming cups of punch set on the wooden surface in front of you.
Children's punch, of course - non-alcoholic. After all, 50% of those present here were not even two years old.
You cautiously took a sip from your mug, Jack was still eyeing his drink suspiciously after burning his tongue from the hot liquid just a moment earlier.
Seeing how effortlessly you drank, he finally dared to take a small sip, and noticing that the punch had cooled further, he took a larger one. You smiled at him as he put the cup down again and licked his lips with relish. His had a little angel printed on it - which you personally thought was very fitting.
"So," you asked, "Did you enjoy the little Christmas tour?" Jack grinned and nodded enthusiastically.
"And these are all Christmas traditions?" he asked and you nodded. "Yep. That and Santa Claus putting presents under the tree for the good kids on Christmas Eve.” you sighed. “But that's just a tale parents tell their little kids. And as you get older, you realize that it was the adults all along and a bit of the magic is gone."
Jack frowned. "So you know that Santa Claus doesn't exist?"
You nodded "Yes."
“Then, why do you want to celebrate Christmas so badly?” Jack asked, curious.
You lowered your gaze and ran your finger along the side of the mug. Suddenly the little reindeer drawn on it seemed incredibly interesting.
“I don’t know,” you said. But that was a lie. And Jack wasn’t stupid, he knew that. But he didn’t say anything, he just tilted his head slightly.
There was a moment of silence between you two.
“It’s just,” you said, “when I was still living at the Roadhouse, Dean would always visit somewhere around Christmas.” You smiled at the memory.
“When Jo first taught me how to fold stars out of paper, I did it all the time, for everyone. And a second time. And when Dad came by, I made him the most stars out of all. I knew he was always on the road, so I wanted to give him as many things as possible to remember me by. So he wouldn’t forget about me.”
You did your best to swallow the lump that had formed in your throat. “I made him the stars every year. Even if he stopped to come by at some point."
There was that silence again, only this time Jack clearly noticed your dejection and did what he had always seen Cas do when Dean wasn't feeling well.
He reached forward and gently placed his hand on yours. You gave him a grateful smile and he returned it.
Then suddenly, you sniffled once and brushed some loose hair away from your face. "But whatever. Christmas is just my favorite holiday in general.” You took a deep breath, making your shoulders rise and fall, and closed your eyes. “Just the warmth of a nicely decorated house or a nice punch when it's cold outside. There’s something about it."
Jack simply agreed with you on that. He couldn't confirm it himself, so he just trusted you on that point.
You quickly downed the last of your punch and encouraged Jack to do the same. "Come on, drink up. We still have to go somewhere."
Jack did as ordered and you brought back the two cups and received the deposit.
"Let's get a Christmas tree now?" Jack asked excitedly, but you shook your head. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I have to get something else first."
"What then?" He asked.
"My present for my Dad."
"But you said no gifts?"
"It wasn't a rule, it was a necessary evil. But-” You pulled out your phone to double-check the exact address of the store. "I found something really great for him."
"What is it?" Jack sounded almost as excited as you felt, and that excitement was the reason you told him. "You know how much Dean loves Batman, right? And cars?" Jack nodded.
"Well, I scoured my friend, the good old internet, and found someone selling a miniature Batmobile!" You told him giddily.
Jack looked confused and it only struck you now that he probably didn't even know what the Batmobile was.
"It’s the car Batman drives." You explained. "Aaah," Jack went, and you could practically see the realization forming on his face as his eyes widened and his mouth opened in amazement.
“And why only a mini version?” he asked further. "Is that a toy car?"
Ouch. Would Dean have heard that now. "No Jack, it's not a toy car" you told him clearly. "It's a collector's item."
“Why would you want to collect small cars?”
You sighed loudly. "I don't know Jack, ask any man over thirty-five."
Jack was about to ask something else, but to your rescue, the small alarm sounded on your cell phone, signaling that you had reached your destination. You stopped and eyed the shop.
It was relatively small, and surrounded by other bright shops, decorated all around with Christmas decorations, it also looked a bit deserted. Miller's Antiques was written in large letters on a sign above the front door. You exchanged a look with Jack. He seemed just as skeptical.
"Well, it won't be that bad," you said, not sure if you were trying to encourage Jack or yourself.
A small bell rang as you opened the door inward.
Jack always stayed behind you, as you entered the small building. It was actually a bit gloomy in here, the shelves, some filled to the ceiling with objects, seemed to keep all the sunlight from falling in. The only source of unnatural light was a shadeless lightbulb suspended in the middle of the room.
"Hello?" You asked into the silence, but there was no answer.
That's how every horror movie starts, you thought, and an uneasy feeling crept in. But no, now you had come so far, you would still manage these last few meters. Just give him the money, take the car, done. And then get out of here as soon as possible.
At the other end of the room was a counter. You and Jack approached it and you tentatively rang the little bell that stood there.
A moment passed, then another, until a slightly older man appeared from behind a curtain that apparently led to the warehouse, and stood at the counter.
"Can I help?" he asked, in a high yet raspy voice. Maybe a smoker, you thought. Or a Broadway singer with severely strained vocal cords.
"My name is Winchester, Y/N," you replied. "We emailed?" He seemed to think for a moment. "Ah yes, of course, Winchester," he finally recalled. "About the car, right?"
"Yes, exactly."
The lanky man leaned to the side a little and eyed Jack up and down with suspicion. "And who is this?"
Before you could reply, Jack had taken a step forward and raised his hand in greeting. "Hello," he said, "my name is Jack Kline. It's nice to meet you."
"He's a family friend," you added as the shop owner raised his eyebrow. "I see," he then murmured, turning back to you.
"You have the money with you?" You rummaged in your bag and held the wallet in front of his eyes.
"Good, good," he said, taking the curtain in his hand. "Then come with me. I put that somewhere back here."
Absolutely not. "Actually that's okay, we'll just wait here until you come back."
The man grinned. “Don't worry. I do not bite." You couldn't see Jack smiling behind you, and just as you were about to protest further, the boy squeezed past you with a "You're right" and followed the man behind the curtain.
You clenched your jaw. You really needed to give this guy some kidnapping avoidance tutoring. Nevertheless, especially because you no longer had a choice, you also stepped forward into the darkened room.
"Jack?" you asked. "Mr Miller?"
But no answer came.
Worried, you went to search the room when you felt something hurt terribly on the back of your head, and at the same moment everything went black.
—
In the meantime in the Bunker, there was a festive Christmas smell coming from the kitchen. Dean dismissed the smell somewhat suspiciously, because "After all, it's Cas," he had told Sam. "He doesn’t eat, how is he supposed to cook something?"
Also, the fact that he had been in there for a while made Dean a little uncomfortable. Not that he broke anything. Or would char. Not in his kitchen.
Hopefully he didn't misclassify the knives. As much as Dean loved him, he wouldn't forgive that.
When Cas then finally entered the library, he carried a wooden tray in front of him. On it were several glasses with a yellow-creamy liquid in them.
Sam and Dean raised their gazes and looked surprised first to the drinks, and then to Cas. "What do you have there, Cas?" Sam asked, trying to peer into the glasses.
"Glad you asked," Castiel said. "This is Egg Nog. I've heard it's a Christmas tradition among humans, so I thought I'd up the ante on the Christmas cheer."
He held out the tray to the two of them. "Try it."
The brothers each grabbed a glass from the tray and took a long gulp of the Christmas drink. Dean's eyes clenched and widened again and Sam's eyebrows shot up. As they put the glasses back down, Castiel asked, "How is it?"
"Mm-hm," Dean said, mouth still full, thumbs up. Sam did the same.
Castiel smiled contentedly. "Well then. I'll put the rest aside so we have enough supplies. And also for Y/N and Jack when they come back.” With that, he turned around and disappeared from the library again towards the kitchen with his tray in hand.
The moment he was out of sight, Dean pulled the closest plant to him and spat the contents out of his mouth into the pot, Sam did the same with his glass.
Dean wiped his mouth. "I have the feeling that Cas read a bottle and a half instead of a cup and a half of rum," he said in disgust.
Sam looked over at him. "Isn't that like a normal dose for you?"
Dean looked at the glass as if it had just bitten his finger. "Not all at once, no," he replied. "But we don't have to tell Cas that." With that, he poured the remaining contents of the glass into the plant pot and turned back to his laptop and the show he was watching.
Zoe was about to break up with Wade and Cas' performance had interrupted the dramatic moment. That was also something he wouldn't tell him.
He had just resumed the series, when Sam felt like he had to interrupt him.
"Tell me, did you get Y/N's gift yet?" he asked. Annoyed, Dean pressed the pause button again and pulled his headphones out of his ears.
"What now?"
"Y/N's present," Sam repeated. "You know, wrapped in colored paper, with a bow-"
"I know what a present is," Dean interrupted abruptly. "But why should I have gotten one for Y/N? They specifically said no gifts.”
Sam sighed. "Dean," he began. Sometimes he thought his brother was a lost cause in this area. "Y/N is your child. And regardless of whether they have a no-gift rule or not, it would be right to give them something anyway. Especially after what has happened the last few years.”
"What's happened in the last few years," Dean grumbled lowly. "I don't even know what to get them!" he followed behind, already a little desperate. Sam had made him nervous.
But the younger one just shrugged. "Neither do I. You probably know them best of all of us.”
That ended the conversation for Sam. And he left behind, sitting opposite him, a thinking Dean Winchester, who still had to find a Christmas present from somewhere. And at best, before you came back, which, unfortunately for him, wouldn't be a very long time. After all, how much time would buying a Christmas tree take?
—
When you woke up, at first you thought you were still unconscious. It took your eyes a while to adjust to the darkness around you and to work with what little light came through a dirty little window.
Slowly but surely, individual silhouettes stood out from the darkness and you recognized furniture, walls, pillars. Now that you thought about it, this looked like a basement. The pillars to support a house and all the junk that was just dumped here because it wasn't needed anymore.
With the realization, a throbbing pain in the back of your head set in. You wanted to raise your hand to grab the spot, but you couldn't. With a groan of frustration, you realized that your hands were tied with ropes around one of the pillars, and it felt pretty tight. Great. At least you were tied so you could sit down.
"Jack?" you asked into the silence, having an odd déjà-vu. Then it popped into your head. The antique shop. Your dad's gift. And the shady man that Jack had so willingly followed behind the curtain.
"Y/N?" came a hesitant voice, and your heart lifted. "Thank the gods you're fine," you sighed.
You still didn't know who this man was or what he wanted exactly. But if he tied you and Jack here together, then maybe he didn't even know he was a Nephilim.
Was it your last name? Did he have a grudge against the Winchesters? Or thought he could lure Sam and Dean out by capturing you? Or Cas with Jack?
Wouldn't be the first time.
The pounding in the back of your head slowly diminished. The blow didn't seem to have been too hard. Which meant you probably hadn't been unconscious for very long either. And yet you thought about it.
"Well, hello!" suddenly sounded a voice. A high, yet scratchy one. Either a smoker or a former Broadway star. The voice of the man who locked you in here.
"Miller," you spat. He stopped in front of you and grinned down at you. Only now did you notice that he held a pistol in his right hand. Swell.
"Good morning sunshine!" he chirped. "Sleep well?" He didn't wait for an answer from you, just kept talking. "I apologize for the inconvenience, please understand, we are not a star hotel here, but I made the best of it."
You clenched your jaw and gave him murderous looks.
"Who are you? Why are you doing all this?” Jack called from behind you and you tried to put your hand on his to signal 'shut up'. But it was too late. Miller's attention shifted to Jack until he was standing in front of him as well.
"Why am I doing this?" he repeated, still grinning. "Why, for the money of course!" That's when he licked his lips and looked back at you angrily.
“And most people are so totally fine with getting their pieces delivered. By post. You tell them you have something that they want, one of Britney Spears’ gel nails, the scarf that Niki Lauda wore at his first race …” He trailed off. You made a face. “And the bottom line is: I get the money, but these people never get their product. That's the way it works."
He lazily pointed his gun towards you.
"But no, not you," he continued scornfully. "You wanted to come by personally. Get a Batmobile collectible.” He cracked a dirty laugh. “So I had to improvise! That is why, both of you, are sitting here, tied up." He shrugged his shoulders. "It wasn't my first option, but I had to think fast."
You were confused. What the guy said made some sense, but only if one piece of the puzzle in your story was wrong.
"The money? internet fraud? What-" you cut yourself off as you came to a realization. “Wait, are you- human?”
Now it was Miller's turn to be confused. "Uh yeah? And newsflash, you are too?”
"So, you're no demon?" You continued to ask. "Shapeshifter, vampire, anything?"
"No, I- what the hell are you even talking about?" He looked at Jack as if he had all the answers ready for him.
"Ugh," you groaned, banging your head against the pillar behind you. Which in hindsight probably wasn't such a smart idea, because now it was hurting again.
"You're telling me we got overrun by some common white guy?" Embarrassing. If your dad found out! Holy hell.
But Miller seemed duly indignant at your report. "Well, I beg you pardon," he said. "I think I did pretty well for a beginner." He shrugged.
"Now that I think about it, it's actually kind of a shame. I've grown fond of you two. Especially you, cowboy.” He pointed the pistol at Jack.
"You seem so easy."
"And now?" Jack asked, with as much contempt in his voice as he could muster. "Are you going to kill us?"
Miller's eyes widened in mock horror. "Kill you?" he asked. "Oh no, no, no. I'm not a murderer. And it's Christmas.” He smiled, and you didn't like it at all.
"No, you just stay here. For a while. A couple of days. Nobody ever comes down into this cellar. And if you starve to death, well.” He sighed in faked wistfulness. "Then I call that a very tragic end to two young lives."
"That's a lot worse than just shooting us," you pointed out and the man rolled his eyes. "Teens and their smartasses," he murmured.
"Well then," he said, stamping his foot briefly. "I'm getting back to work. You two, have a good time down here. And don't even try yelling, the doors are pretty thick.” He waved goodbye before turning and heading up the stairs. "Until then!"
You wriggled indignantly in your bonds. "Good, then leave us here!" You yelled after him. "But if the ghosts of Christmas past, present, and future come to take you, I will not save you, Mr Scrooge!"
The thunder of the heavy steel door signaled his absence and you slumped back into your still position.
"Mr Scrooge?" You grimaced. "That was the best I could do?"
"Y/N," Jack's voice came from across the pillar. "How do we get out of here?"
You thought.The adults didn't have a clue where you were, and due to the defensive sigils on your ribs and Jack's powers, Castiel couldn't track you.
Jack's Powers!
"Jack, you have to break these bonds!" you begged him.
It was quiet for a moment. "I- I don't know how." Jack's voice sounded small and scared from the other side, and you felt almost bad for pressuring him like that.
"I know it scares you, Jack," you coaxed him. “But we won't get out of here otherwise. I didn't take any of my knives, I wasn't prepared for that. Our dads don't know where we are. You're the only one who can save us and get us home, Jack. Please."
He still hesitated. "I believe in you," you continued to encourage him. “You can do this. Call it a Christmas miracle. It will work and you won't hurt me."
You felt your hands getting warmer. But it wasn't warmth, like from a flame or a fireplace, no, it was pure energy. Pure and pulsating, it emanated from Jack's hands and in the next instant, the bonds were loose.
You jumped up to help Jack up too, only to feel the consequences as your head started pounding again.
"See?" you smiled at him. "Christmas Miracle." A small, proud smile played on Jack's lips as well as he looked at his hands.
A loud bang sounded moments later as the heavy door was thrown off its hinges. You clambered over it, and followed a few more spiraling stairs up to the back room where Miller knocked you down earlier.
Carefully, you and Jack crept between the stuffed shelves until you reached the black curtain again and slowly pushed it a bit aside.
Almost immediately in front of you, Miller was standing, with his back to you, engrossed in his laptop. Jack took a quick step forward and placed his palm on the back of the man's head, and the next moment he fell unconscious to the ground.
"He's just-" "Unconscious," Jack assured you, taking your hand. "Come on, we have to get out of here."
"One moment." You bent down and grabbed Miller's ankles. "We have to do something first. Help me."
Jack grabbed the man under his arms and you both carried him out of the small shop. The bell jingled as the door opened and closed again.
—
In the meantime. several hours had passed. Which was more hours than Dean would have liked. The sun was already low in the sky, and even if they couldn't see it from the bunker, Dean could guess it. He was about a vanishing ray of sunshine away from jerking open the door and personally looking for Jack and Y/N.
"They’ve been gone too long," he said, for what must have been the thirteenth time, as he paced around the Crows Nest. Sam looked up from his book and to his brother.
"Dean, they're both almost adults. And Jack is the most powerful entity in this universe. I think they’ll manage.”
"Mm-hm," Dean went, and Sam knew he hadn't convinced him. Just like the other twelve times.
Then, as if called upon, they heard the squeak of the heavy front door and a slightly disheveled Jack Kline entered, with an exhausted Y/N Winchester in tow.
Dean was already waiting for you both at the foot of the stairs. "What the hell took you so long? And why didn't either of you answer your phone? We didn't know where you were, something could have happened to you!"
You and Jack ducked your heads and Jack was about to say something when you cut him off. "I'm sorry, Dad," you apologized. "Will not happen again."
Dean's anger seemed to subside a little because his voice sounded calmer and softer when he said it. "I hope so. I was worried."
And even if it was probably a little inappropriate in this situation, you felt a bit warm at his words.
"Uhm guys", Sam asked. "Where is the Christmas tree?"
You and Jack looked at each other in alarm and then back at the adults. Now Dean's eyebrows were raised expectantly, too.
“The Christmas tree?”, you asked, slowly. Sam nodded.
"We got kidnapped," Jack blurted out.
"Excuse me what now?" Dean's eyebrows shot up.
"Yes, Jack," you slowly dragged, turning to the Nephilim. "What?"
"But we took care of it," he added and in his eyes shone pride. “I used my powers. Without hurting anyone."
Cas nodded in appreciation. “That is a very success. I'm proud of you."
Jack's smile almost went in circles if his ears weren't between them, he smiled so hard.
Dean, however, still seemed a little worried. "Are you alright? Did they hurt you?” He reached for your head, but you dodged him. "It's fine, Dad, I promise. Like Jack said. We took care of it."
—
One by one, the lights went out in the sheriff's department. Sheriff Dowers, a slightly stocky woman, was turning off the last of the lights as she prepared to leave her office.
Christmas Eve with the whole family, well that would be something - again. With her mother-in-law, who always complained about how seldom she was at home, or her great-aunt, who had something to criticize about her appearance every time they saw each other.
She shuddered just at the thought. It would take her nerves of steel again to get through this. And lots of mulled wine.
Dowers rubbed her eyes tiredly and was about to lock the door, when she suddenly saw a crouched figure in the darkness. As she got closer, she realized it was a man, probably in his forties, hands tied behind his back on the lantern that stood in front of the police station.
Through the dim light she saw a folded Christmas card tied to the man's bonds. It featured a decorated Christmas tree with gifts and the words "Merry Christmas to you!".
The sheriff opened the card in surprise and hesitated, as she read it: My name is Aaron Miller, owner of Miller's Antiques. I have scammed countless people out of their money online. You can find all of this on my laptop. Best wishes and a Merry Christmas! was written in it.
Sheriff Dowers looked at the man tied up. She had never experienced such a strange arrest. But that was just fine with her. Maybe her Christmas Eve wasn't going to be as torturous as expected after all.
—
After another lecture on safety and self-defense from Dean, you'd retreated to the warmth of your room to get out of your wet, cold, dirty clothes.
You were now dressed in an oversized hoodie and red plaid pajama bottoms. While you were stuffing the dirty things into the laundry basket, there was a soft knock on the door. "Yes?" you answered, and your Dad walked in through the open door.
"Hey," he said. "Hey," you said back.
For a moment neither of you said anything, you just stood there and looked at each other. Then Dean broke the silence.
"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked. Again.
"Yes I'm fine," you assured him. Again. "I fight monsters on a weekly basis, I think I'll be able to deal with a human kidnapping."
Dean's facial expression changed. "Wait. Are you saying - that was no monster?” he asked.
You shook your head. "Nope."
"You got jumped by a regular guy?"
You threw your arms in the air and Dean chuckled.
"Oh, now all of a sudden you're not worried anymore?"
He put an arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer to him. "I know there's nothing to worry about because I know you kicked ass."
You grinned up at him. "Indeed we did."
Dean cleared his throat and let go of you. Then he sat on the edge of your bed and patted the seat next to him.
"So," he began when you sat down next to him, "I know you said we don't need any presents this Christmas. But, I figured, after all you've accomplished since you've been with us-' He pulled out a small package, wrapped in brown parchment paper and sealed neatly, and for a moment it occurred to you that probably Sam was the one who had wrapped it.
"Well, I figured you deserved it," Dean finished, handing you the present.
Incredulous, you opened the taped ends to avoid tearing the paper and pulled out what was in it.
"Stockings?" You gave your dad a questioning look.
Dean shrugged. "Yes, so you can hang them over the fireplace next year," he explained. "You know, how you do it at Christmas. I think."
"Next year?" you asked hopefully.
Now he avoided your gaze. "Well, I mean yeah, Christmas is stressful and pretty much unnecessary when you think about it, and we don't have time for-" He stopped himself and took a deep breath. "But maybe if we prepare a little better next time, it could be quite nice. And maybe then with official gifts.”
He smiled at you. You couldn't believe it. and without further ado you threw the stockings on the bed and pulled your dad into a tight hug.
"Thank you," you mumbled in his ear.
“You earned it, kiddo,” he said back. “I’m proud of you.”
You smiled into his flannel shirt. "Your heart has tripled in size. Like the Grinch.”
"Okay, thanks, Merry Christmas to you too," Dean replied in a sarcastic tone and broke the hug.
You were looking at the stockings next to you when you suddenly remembered what had become of your gift, and felt slightly depressed.
"I, um-" You lowered your gaze and fumbled with your fingers. “I actually had the plan to give you something, too. But then there was this thing with-"
At that moment the door was yanked open and both Dean's and your head shot in that direction. But only Jack stood in the doorway, hand raised in greeting. "Hello," he said, taking a step further into your room. The door that had opened so loud rested quietly against the wall. He must have used his powers to open it.
"Y/N, I am bringing you the gift for Dean," he continued, and only now did you register the small package in his hands.
"Wh-" You gaped at Jack in confusion.
He just smiled his innocent smile at you and nodded his head.
"Yes, you almost forgot it in the kitchen."
He placed the object in your hands. 'Thank you', you mouthed in his direction. Jack simply smiled and then courtly left the room again, but not before raising his hand to say goodbye, of course.
You turned to Dean again and, a little awkwardly, put the present in his hands.
You wondered what it could be. It definitely wasn't the car, the package wasn't the right shape for that. It was circular, yet a little flat. It was wrapped with colorful Christmas wrapping paper, and sealed with much, much tape. You smiled to yourself at the thought of Jack, highly focused, doing his best to cover up whatever was in there.
On top of it was a white bow, that Dean sort of brutally ripped off, just as he did the rest of the paper – a total opposite to your careful hand.
As he pulled the item out of the paper, you could almost see his eyes light up as he read the label.
"Howard Coleman's limited-edition Christmas pie—with cinnamon and apples straight from the North Pole!" And now you got it, too. It was the pie that Dean had been eyeing in stores for the past few days, whenever they passed it. All you knew about it was that it seemed to only come out once a year — around Christmas time — and it was supposed to taste like Santa baked it himself with his elves.
You smiled to yourself. How pure Jack was that he remembered it and allowed you to pass it off as your gift.
Dean was still grinning from ear to ear. "Ha-ha! I gotta show this to Sam, we gotta cut him straight!”
With that, he jumped up and planted a loving kiss on your hairline. "Thank you," he said and then he was already out the door.
—
Everyone was gathered in the crows nest. The garlands glittered and the whole building was filled with the smell of cinnamon. Little conversations ensued and everyone held a mug full of hot chocolate that Sam had specially conjured up.
A better option than Cas' failed egg-nog.
When the angel had gone around, offering you and Jack one of the glasses, all you could see was Sam hastily making a ‘Don’t do it’-gesture, and that was enough for you to politely say No.
"Have a good Christmas," you said, sprinkling sprinkles onto the whipped cream in your cocoa.
But Jack just looked at the empty space under the stairs.
"Now we don't even have a Christmas tree," he remarked, disappointment evident in his voice. Sam and you gave the young boy pitying looks.
Suddenly the signature woosh of Cas' wings could be heard and the angel was gone. Dean looked puzzled next to himself, where he had just been standing, and whirled around when he heard the wings again - accompanied by a rustling and clanking.
There, under the stairs, stood Castiel, with a huge green fir tree beside him, adorned with blue, white, and silver decorations. Jack's eyes almost popped out of his head and your mouth dropped open.
"Cas, where- where did you get that tree?" Sam asked incredulously. Cas looked at him with an almost reproachful look. "I'm an angel, remember?" he said, and that settled the matter.
Then Dean re-entered the room, having only recently left it unnoticed by anyone, holding an old CD-player in his hand.
He placed it on the big table and pushed a few buttons, and a slow Christmas carol started playing out of the speakers.
Everyone raised their mugs of hot chocolate and Dean poured some cherry liqueur into everyone's cups. You pressed yours close to Sam's, but Dean, always the psychic, noticed and pushed it away with his pinky finger.
You gave him a grim look, but he ignored you.
"Merry Christmas," Cas wished, and the rest joined in the chorus. "Merry Christmas!"
Mugs were clattering against each other, and Jack could be heard silently humming along to the music’s tune.
While everyone was busy chatting and laughing with one another, nobody noticed how Dean and Cas stole away. Together they stood a little apart, under the archway that led to the library. Dean leaned casually against the stonewall and looked at the scene that was playing out in front of them.
A slight smile graced his lips, and he didn't notice how Cas looked at him from the side, wearing just the same fond smile on his face.
"Considering that a few years ago I wouldn't have even dreamed of this happening - Christmas, hot chocolate, decorations-" Dean stopped himself. "A child. That doesn't come from murderous female warriors and wants to kill me.” He laughed lightly and took a sip of the hot chocolate.
"It's fascinating to see how despite all the suffering we've been through, good moments like this can still happen," Castiel agreed.
Dean turned his attention back to his angel and pushed himself slightly off the wall. "It's even better when everyone you care about is there."
Cas avoided Dean's look in flushed embarrassment. Suddenly the angel felt something trickling down onto his shoulder. It was an oblong shaped, small leaf with smooth edges.
He looked up in surprise. There by the archway above them, hung a bush full of those leaves, and round white berries within.
Dean groaned softly as he followed Cas' gaze and also discovered the plant. "I told Sam not to," he murmured.
Castiel looked at him questioningly. "What is it?"
Dean suddenly got very flustered and started stuttering. "It's, um- it's mistletoe. A Christmas tradition where you—”
"I do, in fact, know this tradition," Cas interrupted him in a low voice.
Dean only now noticed how close the angel actually was to him. And unperturbed, his heart began to beat faster until it pounded in his throat.
He was afraid that Cas could hear it.
But like the conversations around them, this fear faded into the background when Dean leaned forward the last centimeter to Castiel and put his own lips on those of the black-haired angel.
It wasn't a long kiss if measured in time, minutes, seconds. But for Dean it felt infinite. And not the infinity that stretches forever, no. The infinity in which you let yourself fall into a sky full of happiness and love. He let himself fall into the feel of Cas' warm lips on his, which still tasted a little of the hot chocolate and cherry liqueur.
When they broke apart, Dean felt the need to kiss him again at the same moment.
Cas' blue eyes looked deep into his green ones.
"Merry Christmas, Dean," he whispered.
"Merry Christmas, Cas."
And for that one moment, everything was perfect. And everything was warm.
Maybe Y/N was right. Maybe his heart had tripled in size.
Then, Sam's voice rang from the the table. “Cas, is that the Walmart Logo on our Christmas tree?”
#Spotify#winchester!daughter#winchester!reader#dean winchester x child!reader#dean winchester fic#dean winchester fluff#dean winchester imagine#dean winchester x castiel#dean winchester x reader#sam winchester x reader#sam winchester imagine#sam winchester#dean winchester#supernatural destiel#jack kline#jack kline x reader#christmas in the old man’s hat#yourmomxx#cw supernatural#supernatural imagine#destiel#dean x castiel#destiel fic
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Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays! Evan Stanley inspired piece of my OC Dr. Gregor in a Christmas themed outfit.
#Gregor likes to back off the top half of new boots or shoes so his feet have more room#character design especially character fashion isn’t my strongest ability#but I think it came out pretty alright#an old man trying to pull off fashion#though he still insists wearing his worn and torn hat#sth#sonic oc#oc art#my art#gregor the star nosed mole#Christmas
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i don't go here but i support your old man desire wholeheartedly...................... Raymond in a silly hat perhaps? raymond as a worm does sound very funny tho jgoahsgoauhg
Ohhhhhh my goddddddd adsjkfhaljsfdkjh
tysm for your ask and your support ToT!!! it means the world to me when I get to scream and draw abt this mfer with others xDDD
#he kinda looks like the nefarious anglerfish in this one it might just be the hat though#the mortuary assistant#Raymond Delver#i need a yumi tag#yappa art#yappa answers#merry christmas old man get in the hat#i love when ppl dont go here but drop by for a quick visit that is just wonderful imo
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I refuse to believe the fine gentleman in the newest Christmas Carol movie is Ebenezer Scrooge.
Ebenezer Scrooge is a rickety raggedy crooked old coot twisted by his own selfishness whose understanding of kindness returns his grampa-like humanity back into him
The man in Christmas Carol (2022) is a somber and brooding lord of a vast estate, widowed for years and refuses to remarry out of attachment of the only person that genuinely loved him, troubled by both his estranged adult children and the shadows of his own father's harsh upbringing, and considered as this cold intimidating heartless man by the populace despite his own desire to connect with others.
The people behind Christmas Carol 2022 designed a GILF love interest for a dramatic and somber Gothic Victorian drama, not Ebenezer fuckin Scrooge.
#vivien talks#GOD IM SO CONFLICTED#I WANNA PIN THAT OLD MAN TO A WALL BUT HE'S MOTHERFUCKING SCROOGE AUGHHHHHHHHHHH#christmas carol 2022#christmas carol#not meant as hate i am just trying to thirst over him without feeling conflicted#scrooge fuckers i see you and i am tipping my hat at yall
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Thank you’s all around~
@skeletoninthemelonland
@levshany
@yarnican
@erigold13261
@evilady
@homiecid3
@weirdagnes
@m0nsterjuice-art
youtube
#all i want for christmas is you#fnaf 3 springtrap#behind the codes#security alert#strange behavior#Scp#Scp 049#scp 035#scp containment breach#phantom freddy#a hat in time#a glitch in time#Monty#djmm#old man consequences#glitchtrap#happy New Years everyone~#team fortress 2#Youtube
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What obscure fictional straight person inspired your sense of gay fashion? I'll go first.
R J mf Macready
#just give me an oversized hat some old man leather and cargo pants#its also my favorite christmas movie no i will not be explaining#the thing#queerfashion#lgbtq#pansexual#gay#gayfashion
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#[ nnoitra writers on twitter using my art as their pvp ]#[ ; - ; my heart ]#[ this christmas one of them used a SUPER old artwork i did of nnoitra with a santa hat ]#[ MY HEART CANT HANDLE ]#[ and they credited me as well which is always super nice! ]#[ - i usually ask people to credit me if they haven't already ; but i don't mind them using my art without asking ]#[ spreading the nnoitra propaganda every day 8) ]#[ ANYWAYS! i'm only 3k behind on my writing ]#[ --- tho i am miles behind on my book fjjfjf ]#[ just been ?? more or less only inspired for nnoitra these days ]#[ - looks at him - ]#[ nnoitra doing the peace sign ]#[ man oh man i wish everything was as easy as writing nnoitra ]#[ i have chores i need to do today but.. writing is the priority 8) ]#[ hope you're all doing good! :D ]#toby post. ╱ out of character.
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Better Watch Out
Danny had just started to feel like he was settling in with the Waynes. It had been... not ideal circumstances that brought him to the family in the first place, so getting used to not having to deal with all that mess was the first hurdle. The second being getting used to dealing with an entirely new- if more pleasant, mess. The Waynes, and Gotham by extension, were- to put it lightly- fucking crazy. He wasn't in Amity anymore and however much he'd thought it was the weirdest place on the planet before- he was absolutely rethinking that now. Where he had been one hero against a handful of villains, Gotham had a whole brigade of vigilantes against an army of villains. And they were... Bat-themed. For the most part. He'd yet to meet any of them, so he hadn't gotten the chance to ask what all that was about.
None of that was the point though. The point was that Danny had only recently stopped feeling like a fish out of water around his new foster family, and now the Holidays were coming. The Holidays that always served to put him in a sour mood. The Holidays that made him more prone to lash out and snap at those that didn't deserve it. The Holidays that, despite being Jewish by heritage, Bruce seemed oddly enthusiastic about celebrating.
(It reminded him, painfully, of Sam. He'd yet to be able to see here since everything went down and he missed her and Tucker something fierce. Which was maybe also putting him in a bad mood.)
So you really couldn't blame him for feeling a little tense about the whole situation. Not only were the Christmas decorations that smothered the Manor making him grouchy, but his grouchiness was also making a guilty pit form in his stomach. He was a moody teenager and adding trauma on top of that didn't help how caustic he could be- and adding fear on top of that made it all the worse. What if he saw Dick in his Santa hat, grinning and innocent, and he snapped? What if he saw Damian, stoic but loving, give Titus a shiny red bow-tie collar for the season and he made a caustic comment that went too far? What if he saw Bruce so much as smile at him while standing near the giant tree in the foyer and he saw green?
What if he ruined Christmas? Again? For people that didn't deserve it? Again? What if he hurt the people he cared about that had only ever shown him care and consideration? Again?
So Danny was just a bit tense. A bit on edge. And he was trying. Oh Ancients was he trying. To not be such a little bitch about all the Christmas stuff. But he had a limit. Bruce, being the rich socialite that seemed far too enthusiastic about family-centered holidays, did not have a limit. Every inch of the manor was covered in tinsel and holly and blinking lights and fake snow. Every spare moment was filled with different siblings being coerced into doing cheesy holiday activities, with Danny being the only one to attend every single one of them. (Cutting down a Christmas tree with Jason. Buying presents at the mall with Tim. Decorating while hanging from the chandelier with Dick. Caroling very badly with Stephanie. Making snow angels with Cass. Watching Christmas movies with Duke.) And he attended them all with a barely restrained snarl and a badly bitten tongue. The one time, one time, he'd told Bruce no- the guilt had eaten him alive (and dead) at seeing the man melt into the most pathetic kicked-puppy look he'd ever seen.
No grown man should ever be able to do that with his face. Danny never wanted to see that again.
In return, though, he had to face the Horrors.
The latest Horror being the worst he'd ever faced to date. A Horror that he thought he'd never have to face. He thought he'd slipped past this particular one by aging out. He was too old for this. He shouldn't be there. Damian, scowling and eyes filled with murderous intent, shouldn't be there. Dick and Bruce seemed to both be having the time of their lives. It was far too disturbing- and the continuous blasting of Christmas music and the overheated crush of a restless crowd only made it worse.
They were in line to see Santa at the mall.
It made his skin crawl. He was fifteen! Damian, the poor bastard, was also fifteen!
He could practically feel Ghostwriter laughing his ass off at his predicament. This was worse than getting stuck in a rhyming Christmas cautionary tale. He would 100% rather be stuck in one of Ghostwriter's cheesy poems than be stuck in the stupidly long line to see the fake mall Santa that probably didn't want to be there just as much as Danny.
But Bruce looked so fucking happy. Genuinely happy.
It was something he'd noticed early on about his foster dad. He smiled a lot and smiled big, but he rarely ever meant it. Now, Danny wasn't usually one to notice things like that. He got pretty wrapped up in his own problems and just- didn't have the skill to notice these things. Usually. But, well, being ghostly gave him a bit of an advantage. He could get a pretty good read on a person's emotions, regardless of what expression they wore. If he felt close enough to them. Frostbite had compared it to, like, family pack bonding. And he really, really didn't want to think about that further (why had it never worked for his parents? why did he feel so close to Bruce so quickly? why?) But, more importantly, he could tell that while Bruce smiled a lot, he rarely meant it.
But whenever Danny or his foster sibling begrudgingly participated in "family holiday activities" he smiled and he meant it. Bruce, fundamentally, was a sad man. Always grieving something. But here and now? In line to see his teenage children visit fucking Santa in the mall? He was smiling from ear to ear and his emotions, for once, matched. Yeah, there was a hint of mischief there, but it was overwhelmed by the giddy joy and excitement.
A suspicious amount of excitement... Like he was expecting something.
And then Bruce was leaning down between him and Damian and with a bright grin, he muttered, "I have a surprise for the both of you."
And even Dick, who had not stopped taking a stupid amount of pictures the entire time, paused to look at Bruce curiously.
"As I've told you both before," he said, looking over at Dick and back to Damian, "I know the real Santa. Met him a few times, saved Christmas with him a few others, and he owed me a favor for the last misadventure we had. So, I asked him to be here, for this one afternoon, for you guys."
Danny barely caught a glimpse of Dick rolling his eyes in the background. Oh, okay, so this was bullshit that has long been established. Nothing new on his account. That was something at least.
"Father," Damian interrupted with scorn and a promise of violence in his voice, "you are aware that this- Santa Claus creature- is fictitious, are you not?"
"Damian, chum," Bruce responded carefully, sincerely saddened, "why would you say that about an old family friend?"
And, poor Damian, looked two parts baffled and three parts murderous. Nonplussed and unable to even fathom a response to his father. He just stared the man down.
Dick huffed in exasperation behind them. "C'mon, B. Will you let that go already?"
Bruce furrowed his brows, eyes already taking on that faint sheen of kicked-puppiness, and looked back up at his eldest. "You don't believe me, Dickie? After all these years?"
Dick responded with a flat stare. Danny kind of wished he had popcorn for this moment. It was like witnessing a mild car crash. Nobody got hurt and it was still wicked to see parts flying everywhere. There was even a chance of things catching fire. Man was he glad he could just watch.
"Danny?" Bruce pleaded, turning to him with those sad, sad eyes. "Do you believe me, chum?"
And fuck how was he supposed to respond to that?
"I have it on good authority," he said, thinking of yearly fight, after fight, after fight, "that his existence is very hotly debated in the scientific community."
He could feel the questioning stares from Damian and Dick but he refused to look away from the innocently tilted head of his unfortunate foster father.
"Is that a yes?" and he sounded so sincerely hopeful. He couldn't crush the man's spirit. He couldn't.
But he also refused to lie and say he believed in Santa. At fifteen.
He clenched his jaw and gritted his teeth, but eventually replied. "It's a hotly debated topic."
And Bruce just smiled that empty smile and patted his shoulder. "Thanks, chum."
He, again, ignored Damian and Dick's stares. If he looked at them, he'd break. If he so much as made partial eye-contact, he was gonna fucking lose it.
"Oh look! We're almost at the front!"
Danny was living his worst life. Officially. This was the bad time-line. Dan's future didn't even come close. He was going to go mega evil any second now and kill everyone in the vicinity and then himself. This wasn't happening and it wasn't real and Santa Claus can't hurt him because he isn't real.
But Bruce, the saddest man in history, utterly and sincerely believed that he was.
So Danny was going to sit on some random old dude's lap and pretend to care about what he wanted for Christmas and whether or not he'd been a good boy this year and he was going to force a smile the entire time and his soul might shrivel up and die all the way inside, but at least Bruce would be happy.
What the fuck kind of afterlife was he living.
And then it was their turn and Danny was forced to go up first because the alternative was Damian committing homicide in the middle of the mall while Dick and Bruce cheerily took pictures.
Okay. Just sit down. Spit out answers to any inane questions. Pose for picture. And leave. Simple and easy and completely unbearable. But- for Bruce- he would bear it.
But, damn it all, a chill went down his spine as he approached.
No. Absolutely not.
There was no way. But he examined the man sitting in the chair and the more he saw the more the sinking pit in his stomach grew. Full thick beard of snow white hair. Brown eyes filled with smug mischief and magnanimity. Thick red velvet jacket made for trapping in heat in extreme cold weather, lined with white fur that looked suspiciously close to trim on cloaks he'd seen in the Far Frozen. A not-quite-ghostly-not-quite-magic-but-something-in-between aura he often got around Gods and Ancients.
Fuck, but Bruce actually knew the real bonafide Santa Fucking Claus.
What, and he means this with a great amount of emotion, the fuck.
He sat down in a stupor and the man just placidly smiled at him, a twinkle in his eye letting him know that he knew Danny was currently experiencing new stages of grief not yet known to man and was just gonna let him ride it out. How nice of him. Because of course he was being nice. He was Santa.
Fuck.
He looked up at the man. Ghost. God. Whatever. And for a good moment that's all either of them did. Just. Stared.
Sorry, Santa, Danny's brain has suddenly gone on vacation. 404 not found. Please leave a message after the tone. Error. Sorry, there's nothing there. Please try again.
After a few agonizing moments he asked, "how? Do you know Bruce?"
And Santa laughed at him, the sound working its way into his bones and filling him with a warmth he hadn't felt in a long time. It tasted just a bit like egg nog. Gross.
"Well," the man started, voice deep and rich like a good cup of hot chocolate, (whatthefuckwhathtefuck). "Why wouldn't I know a man like Bruce? Honorable, righteous, and very skilled. One of the best the Justice League has, if I'm being honest."
And then Danny's brain stopped completely. Because there was no fucking way Santa (FUCK) was implying what he thought he was implying.
But it all made so much sense now. His ears were ringing suddenly and the world was greying out but he was Seeing the Light.
"-nny?" Santa (FUCK!!) was saying. "Are you alright? Want to tell me what you want for Christmas now?"
"Hm," he said airily, still not all the way there, "I'm good, thanks."
And then he slid off the man's lap and walked back to his foster family in a daze. And he looked at Bruce (BATMAN!! FUCK!!!) and he slid a slow hand down his face, attempting to take the skin off it in the process.
"You alright, Danny man?" Dick asked, only half paying attention while he gleefully snapped pictures of a sullen Damian barely restraining himself from committing violence while stubbornly standing next to Santa instead of sitting on his lap.
"That's the real Santa, Bruce is Batman, and I'm half-dead," he replied bluntly.
Dick fumbled his phone in response and Bruce merely raised his eyebrows.
"That's an odd start to a 'three guys walk into a bar' joke there, chum," he said amiably. And Danny wouldn't have noticed the tension in his voice if he weren't ghostly. But he was and unfortunately for them all, it was now everyone's problem.
"Not a joke," he said. "I'll explain the dead part later but Santa outed you on accident."
"Okay, no," Dick interrupted, "we are not leaving the dead part for later, Danny, what the fuck."
"Listen," he said flatly, slapping his hands on either side of Dick's face and smooshing it to convey his seriousness while he spoke. "Santa is real, he's a God, and he's sitting right there." He emphasized with a sweeping wave of his arm in the direction Damian was stomping back towards them from. "We're leaving the dead part for later."
"What is all this about? Dead part? What is going on?" Damian demanded in rapid succession, growing more aggressive and persistent with each question.
Danny, already on his last fucking nerve, was gonna lose it. For real.
"Apparently," Dick drawled, disbelief and an unfair amount of derision in his tone, "that's the real Santa, he told Danny B was Batman, and Danny's now saying he's dead."
"What-"
Damian did not get to finish his sentence because that was the exact moment Danny finally snapped. Every bit of pent up tension and hostility, every bit of restrained Holiday fueled fury he'd been bottling up. Unleashed all at once because Dick decided to be an asshole about not believing him.
Danny snatched one of the giant plastic candy canes that lined the aisle of the queue to see Mall (but actually Real) Santa and gave a good swing in Dick's direction. Dick who had unfairly good reflexes and was able to dodge by jumping over the swing and landing back neatly on his feat.
"Danny?!" he cried, incredulous.
But Danny was no longer listening. Only reveling in the wild swinging of the candy cane and attempting to land a hit on Dick for being an absolute dick and finally unleashing hell upon the world and specifically his asshole foster brother. And maybe he put a little bit more ghostly strength in his last swing than he meant to, because when he finally made contact- he heard a pained off as Dick went down hard.
"Danny, please," he wheezed from the soft bank of fake snow he'd fallen into, "it's Christmas."
He screeched and continued his assault. "It's December 10th!"
And then, promptly; Bruce wrangled the candy cane from Danny's grasp, Damian pulled Dick from the floor, and they were all calmly escorted from the mall and asked politely to never return.
Danny really, truly, hated Christmas. And it looked like that wasn't going to change any time soon.
#naps fics#nap shitposts in the afterlife#danny phantom#dp x dc#dpxdc#dp x dc fanfic#sorry we need to make use of bruce knowing actual fucking santa more often#and pair it lovingly with dannys hatred for christmas#its SO funny#this was supposed to be a funny little shitpost and then evolved sorry#trying to get back in the habit of writing before working on OEG again#anyway hiiii
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pairing: toji fushiguro x f!reader
summary: toji being a grinch lmao, grumpy x sunshine again, fluff, bickering
rheya’s note: man i bet toji pretends to hate decorating for christmas but does it anyway bc he can’t say no to you! UGH he makes me !! i couldn’t stop thinking about bf!toji so here’s this silly little drabble. merry christmas everyone <33
“you serious?”
“yup.”
toji crosses his arms with a scowl, and you mirror his stance with narrowed eyes.
“it’s stupid,” he grunts, reaching out to gently push his palm against your forehead—which earns him a dramatic groan.
“it is not.” you grab his bicep and he lets you drag him over to the tree you’ve set up in the living room. “don’t be an ass.”
he sighs as you place a floppy santa hat on his head and beam at his disgruntled expression. there’s an identical one on you—sliding off your head in all your excitement, and toji has to stop himself from fixing it for you.
you crouch down and throw open a few storage boxes before gesturing somewhat emphatically. “get to work!”
he grumbles, shaking his head even as he goes to pick up a few ornaments. “you’re ridiculous.”
“not very christmas-y of you, toji,” you comment, standing on your toes to hook an ornament. he snorts, eyeing the glitter sticking to his fingertips.
“oh no—i’m the spitting image of joy, can’t you tell?” he replies sarcastically, though his shoulders relax a little as he hears your unfiltered laughter.
toji glances at you, watching as you quietly hum some old christmas song under your breath while filling up the tree with colorful orbs. he’s not sure why you’re so intent on having him be a part of your yearly holiday traditions—he’s never been big on celebrating anyway.
but then he remembers what you had said last year.
“i don’t wanna celebrate anything if you’re not celebrating it with me.”
you’ve always been too good to him.
you scoot a little closer, decorating without a care in the world and toji lets out a quiet breath—decides to be a little annoying because it’s a surefire way to make you smile.
“you mind?” he frowns, huffing with a dramatic sneer. he pins you with a pointed glare before motioning to the tree. “you’re getting in my territory.”
you throw him an appalled look before moving your arm in his face childishly. “what are you gonna do about it?”
an evil smirk makes its way onto his face, and your expression immediately drops. “wait no—“
toji’s bicep curls around your throat, pulling you into a headlock as you squeal and slap at his arm. he spends the next few minutes playfully wrestling with you before finally letting you win and step into his space—stands behind you and watches your fingers gently place ornaments while his hand absentmindedly rubs over your hipbone.
“what do you want for christmas anyway?” you ask offhandedly. toji raises a brow, looking down at you—expressionless.
“thought it was obvious—“ he shrugs, reaching up to hang ornaments on the higher parts of the tree. “all you gotta do is sit under the tree for me and i’ll be happy. bonus points if there’s unwrapping involved.”
you make an expression that has no business looking that scandalized and toji smirks in amusement.
“psycho,” you mutter, shaking your head in mock disapproval—earning a muted chuckle in return. you go back to hanging up ornaments, once again humming to yourself, and toji takes it as a cue to continue decorating. the two of you work in relative silence—an occasional quip or jab the only disturbance. after a while, he crosses his arms.
“are we done yet?” he groans, eyeing the nearly full tree. “i’m tired as fuck.”
“weak,” you grin, though you reach out and pat his chest thankfully. “but you did participate and that’s all i wanted so, yeah, you can be done.”
toji almost laughs in relief, but then he sees you rummage through the boxes and pull out more decorations for the rest of the house, and he sighs.
“alright hand it over,” he grumbles, holding his palm out expectantly. you look at him—half confused and half surprised.
“i thought you were done?”
“yeah right,” he huffs, taking the tinsel from your hands and walking over to the staircase. “you’d end up tangled in this crap if i left you alone with it.”
“you’re so dramatic. and whiny,” you giggle and he rolls his eyes.
“am not.”
despite saying so he quietly huffs as he continues to help you decorate the house with stockings and tinsel and all that other festive stuff.
by the time the house is fully decorated, toji is close to banning the holiday season—grumpy, tired, and ready to move onto something else.
but then, the tiniest part of him is uncharacteristically giddy when you look up at him, holding the star in your hands. toji shakes his head, trying to bite back the amused grin tickling his scarred lips, before sighing and crossing his arms.
“can i help you?” he asks—teasing, though his expression betrays nothing.
you pout, holding the star up dramatically. “the star needs to be put up.”
a smirk graces his face and his tone becomes taunting, yet the affection is not lost on you. “yeah? need a boost, kid?”
even before you nod, toji is crouching in front of you, palms reaching out to guide your legs over his shoulders. you laugh as he stands back up, taking a few steps towards the tree.
he can’t help but chuckle as he watches you lean forward, palm smoothing over your thigh in attempts to stabilize you. “you got it?”
“almost.” he can hear the strain in your voice, can feel the way your fingers twitch against his jaw—but he waits patiently.
“okay got it!” your voice is triumphant, and toji grins to himself.
“attagirl.” his lips brush against your inner thigh—a sweet reward for a job well done. he hears your quiet giggle from above him as you gently push away his dark bangs.
“alright, put me down now,” you huff, and toji bites back a scoff.
“tsk.” he clicks his tongue, though he still lowers himself to let you hop off his shoulders before rising to his full height. “so ungrateful.”
“what do you want, a medal?”
you yelp as toji’s fingers pinch at your side in retaliation. “watch your mouth, kid.”
you flash him a grin full of mischief, though you don’t say anything else. instead you look up at the finished tree, marveling at your handiwork with pride.
“see—” you say with a pointed grin. “—isn’t it pretty?”
toji chuckles, wrapping a heavy bicep around your shoulders and pulling you into his chest. “yeah,” he agrees, green eyes trained on your happy little smile. “it is.”
#toji x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#toji fushiguro x reader#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen#fushiguro toji x reader#toji x you#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk fluff#toji fluff#toji x y/n#toji zenin x reader#zenin toji x reader#toji zenin x you#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jujutsu kaisen headcanons#toji drabbles#toji headcanons#toji fushiguro#jjk drabbles#jjk#jjk headcanons
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Shoot Your Shot, Cupid
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader
Word Count: 3,770
Warnings: mature language, unbeata'd, soft Bucky, lets assume Sam set him up for this one, female coded reader, happy ending because we all deserve it, TIME SKIIIIIP, best friend with good intentions that shows up for one job and then disappears, speed dating, one obnoxious man, all the soft feelings.
Hello Kittens, and Happy Valentine's Day. It's been a while since I wrote... well anything and I was working on this for a couple of months but I think it's come all together now. Hope you enjoy it!
This couldn’t get much worse.
Tricked by your best friend.
Nay, betrayed.
By someone you implicitly trusted.
There would be no forgiving this.
Never, not ever.
The dinner and drinks invitation a few days before the start of February was met with trepidation on your part. All Christmas season you’d feigned interest as Mellony, your best friend, thrust every single co-worker, neighbor, and wait staff at you to find you someone to share the holiday with.
You couldn’t blame her. After all, Mellony was blissfully happy with her fiancée and only wanted the same for you.
All that you could forgive.
But this?
This was a complete and utter betrayal.
A deep and unimpressed frown marred your face as Mellony took the sticky name tag off the table with her perfectly manicured nails. Peeling the back with an ear-to-ear grin and pressed it against your chest. “There,” she exclaimed with joy, lacing her fingers together. “Now you’re all set.”
Looking down at the beautifully scrawled letters framed by little hearts you couldn’t help but curl your lip and whine, “Mel, you promised.”
The blond snorted and rolled her enormous puppy dog eyes, “I never promised anything.” Looping her arm through yours she practically began to drag you through the convention center doors and past the sign that sealed your fate.
Cupids Bow Speed Dating Event.
“Yes, you did,” you reaffirmed. Glancing around the room packed full of men and women in a combination of sweaters, suits, and cocktail dresses. “You promised not to try and set me up with anyone again.”
“This is my speed dating event. It doesn’t count.”
“I can assure you it does.”
“Nooooo,” she practically sang, turning around on her heel with that adorable mischievous smile of hers. “I promised that I wouldn’t set you up with anyone I knew. Everyone here was vetted by my team. I don't know any of these people.”
Grumbling she began tugging you towards the stage as intro music began to play softly from the DJ booth. Mellony paused, gripping your hand tight and looking down at you as the DJ introduced her, “Please, stay? I just want you to find someone.”
“Mel,” you hissed with disapproval. “I don’t need to find someone.”
Whether or not she heard you was unclear as the music swelled and Mellony put on her famous razzle dazzle smile and waved at everyone as she took the microphone and the presentation began. Your eyes swung to the crowd of people, more than three dozen people silhouetted against the stage lights and it made you shiver.
This was going to be a disaster.
Twenty minutes later your mind was glazed over with the audacity of men.
With every new ding of the bell, you found yourself becoming more annoyed. The match-making event progressed easily. People were divided into groups based on results from a questionnaire, something you distinctly remember Mel presenting to you as a fun Cosmo quiz, while one group remained seated the others rotated around the room.
By some stroke of luck, you were one of the people destined to sit. But that also meant that total strangers would be coming to your table to chat with you.
In all your years of singledom, you’d thought you’d heard it all. Too fat. Too loud. Too smart. Too opinionated. Those were old hat by now, and you weren’t immune to the bitter words from unimportant people.
“I suppose you’re an attractive woman,” the suit across from you said thoughtfully. His eyes never met yours, instead looking around the room likely for the next victim of his charm. “But I’m not really into your hair color. How would you feel about dying it?”
The question hung in the air as you waited for the man to look back at you. When his beady eyes returned to your face you couldn’t hide the disbelief, waving your hand in the air with an icy finality, “Absolutely not. You can go.”
He didn’t wait. Standing so quickly the chair scraped against the floor as he haughtily walked towards the bar. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you pulled out your phone and began to scroll social media waiting for the next bell in fifteen minutes.
Not the wildest thing you’d ever heard, but the gall of some people astounded even you sometimes. This also wasn’t the first event you’d been to that Mel had put on, you’d come to one or two as she’d begun her match-making service so you knew the ins and outs pretty well. But getting the same questions over and over was getting old fast.
What do you do for a living?
Where are you from?
What’s your family like?
What’s your perfect date idea?
BOR-ING!
Just once you’d like someone to ask you a real question, something thoughtful instead of the surface questions you’d find on social media.
You couldn’t believe you wore your favorite dress for this nonsense.
The bell dinged once again and the shadow of a new man sat in front of you.
“Hi.”
“Hello,” you said not looking up from the device in your hand.
“Come here often?”
“To a dating event? No,” the words were flowing out of your mouth easily. Canned responses for canned questions.
There was a heavy pause, “You seem bored.”
“That’s because I am.”
A muted scoff came from the other side of the table, “What would make it more interesting then?”
A long sigh escaped you as you continued scrolling on your phone, “If someone would ask me a question of substance, maybe I would give them a chance for conversation.”
Again a long stretching silence from the other side and you had to resist rolling your eyes.
“Alright,” he rumbled, leaning back against his chair. “Then what’s one gift you always wish you’d gotten, but never did?”
That had your thumb pausing on the endless scrolling you were doing. Finally, your gaze flicked up and your brain stopped working for a brief moment as you took in the disgustingly attractive man sitting your opposite.
Coffee color hair, and a chiseled jaw dotted with a five o’clock shadow would be enough to make even the most choosy of a woman’s breath catch. He was wearing a bulky leather jacket in a building that was pushing 80 degrees, which was odd but not overly strange.
But oddly enough you felt yourself getting drawn in. Not by his cheekbones, the cut of his jaw, the dimple in his chin, or even the semi-scowl he wore.
No, it was his eyes. Bright blue soulful eyes, that sparkled a little as he sat across the table from you. Eyes that told a story all their own and drew you out of your scrolling for the first time that night.
Pursing your lips slightly you thought, “Hmm, I’d have to say it’s a puppy.”
His eyebrow arched slightly, clearly surprised by your answer, “A puppy?”
“Sure,” you said with a slight shrug. “A puppy is something I’ve always wanted but never gotten as a gift from anyone other than myself.”
“What kind of puppy?”
“Oh I don’t have a preferred breed,” you informed, tilting your head a little at the odd conversation. “But as a child, it was what I asked for every year as a present. But I never got one.”
His lips turned up in a half smile and you thought you were going to melt in your seat, “Asking for one every year and not getting one, sounds a little disappointing. Was that just a Christmas thing?”
“Nah,” you laughed a little, fingers picking at a little piece of lint on the edge of your dress. “Christmas, birthdays, Easter didn’t matter. If gifts were being given, it was at the top of my list. Every year I’d be running to the tree and picking up presents, looking for one big enough. It’s a running joke with my friends that I’d marry the first man to give me a puppy for Christmas.”
A brisk laugh escaped him, his lips pulled into a charming smile that had nervous butterflies leap up in your chest. “A puppy for Christmas,” he rumbled thoughtfully. “I’ll have to remember that.”
The response made goosebumps prickle along your skin and you held back a shiver, wetting your suddenly dry lips, “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“What’s a gift you always wanted but didn’t get,” you paused briefly a coy smile stretching your lips.
His smile turned into a smirk as he once again leaned back in his chair, blue eyes darting back and forth over your face as he thought about it. It was going well, your impish smile growing along with his own. That is until his smile began to fall, bright blue gaze darting a little more frantically over your face before he licked his lips and an unexpected tremor sounded in his voice, “I think, I think it was a sled.”
“A sled,” you asked, leaning forward a little in intrigue. “Like a big plastic one with the handles? Oh no, I got it you’re definitely an inflatable snow tube kind of guy.”
A balk of laughter sounded from him, making hidden laugh lines appear at the corner of his eyes as they brightened with your playful banter. “Nah,” he exclaimed, waving a hand. “More like a wood and metal one. It had bright red skis and a wooden seat top. That sled was all I wanted as a kid.”
An amused giggle slipped from you, “I had a wagon kind of like that as a kid, it was a radio flyer.”
His fingers snapped as he pointed at you with a little bit of excitement, “That’s it! A Radio Flyer sled, with a rope handle and foot steering bar. Though I don’t think I’d ever get one now. I’m a little too old to go sledding down a hill.”
“Age is all about perspective.”
He snorted, “Tell that to my driver's license.”
Genuine laughter bubbled up from inside of you as you leaned forward in your seat, a teasing retort on your lips. Before you could speak, Mellony rang her little handbell and people began to switch places again. But your blue-eyed stranger lingered at your table.
“Talk to you again?”
He sounded, hopeful. “Yeah,” you croaked out pathetically. “Talk to you again.”
You watched as he stood from your table and made his way across the room to his next table while another man took his place at your own. A feeling of disappointment swelled as you lost sight of him in the crowd of people, the feeling intensifying as this new man briefly introduced themselves before launching into a long Tinder-level introduction.
Two more men sat at your table, barely holding your interest outside of normal pleasantries before Mel rang her handbell in rapid succession. “Alright everyone that’s the first round,” she called from her place at the podium. “We’re going to break for thirty minutes. There are hors d'oeuvres and refreshments at the bar. Please feel free to mingle!”
The room of people began to stand and mill around as an uproar of chatter began. Your eyes picked out a couple of men from your group, pairing up with others and heading to the bar. Cordial smiles turned into pleasant touches and sweetheart eyes as they went.
The Cupids Bow Dating Event was a success and you couldn’t help but feel the swell of pride for your friend.
“Hey, Sourpuss,” Melody greeted, looping her arm through yours. “You having fun yet?”
Your mind drifted back to your blue-eyed stranger, “A little.”
“Well, I don’t know if you know this. But the point of speed dating is to, you know, find a date. I was watching you, and you gotta talk to more than one person,” she sassed.
Your mouth turned down to a frown for a brief moment, “I talked to someone.”
“Oh yeah? What was his name.”
Your mouth opened and closed a couple of times as you realized quickly you’d never even got Mr. Blue-Eyes name, “Shit.”
“What?”
“I didn’t even get Mr. Blue-Eyes name!”
“It’s Bucky.”
Turning around there stood Mr. Blue-Eyes himself, err… you meant Bucky. There was no doubt your embarrassment showed on your face, but the little nervous laugh that slipped out sealed the deal.
Bucky smiled at you, “That is if it’s me you were talking about?”
Wetting your lips you shifted, suddenly nervous before meeting friendly blue eyes, “Yeah,” you squeaked before clearing your throat. “I mean, yes. I’m sorry I missed your name when we talked.”
He was nodding for a brief moment, his eyes darting over towards the bar before taking a few steps closer to you and leaning down. “There’s a restaurant down the street. They’ve got pretty good sushi. You want to get the hell out of here?”
“Oh, my god yes!” The tips of your ears felt hot as you wished the ground would open up and swallow you whole but Bucky didn’t seem to notice your embarrassment. Instead, he offered up his right arm and you looped yours into it without hesitation.
Melody’s brow shot up out of surprise, “B-but that was only the first round! There are still two more.”
“I don’t think we need a round two,” Bucky said, the same charming smile pulling at the corner of his mouth and making his eyes crinkle.
“Yeah,” you laughed, in a teasing tone. “This round just might go to Cupid after all.”
Three years later.
Lights twinkled in the living room of your apartment, it was god awful early and you’d carefully planned today. Christmas day and you’d been waiting for this moment for two years now. Quickly and quietly you snuck out of the bedroom where Bucky lay wrapped up in the blankets and made your way to the front closet.
It was hard being sneaky when your boyfriend was a super spy. But after a lot of careful planning, misdirections, and a lot of help from Sam, you’d managed to do it and Bucky was none the wiser.
Tiptoeing towards the hall closet that Bucky never used you opened the squeaky hinged door in just the way so it made no noise. Reaching blindly into the black of the closet you felt around, past the dozen unused coats, jackets, scarves, and hats your hand met the back of the closet wall. Sliding quietly until your fingers brushed the cold metal you were looking for.
Jackpot.
Fingers wrapped around your prize as you gave a firm but gentle tug. A pristine, adult-sized, bright red and creamy wood seat Flex Flyer sled emerged complete with an enormous red bow.
Stifling a giggle you set it down.
“What are you doing?”
A shriek tore out of your throat as you jumped what felt like twenty feet in the air.
“James Barnes,” you scolded, heart beating a million miles an hour. “What have I said about sneaking up on me?”
“You were being sneaky first,” he said, brows drawn together as he tried to look around you. “What you hiding doll face?”
“Nothing!” You lied, spreading your arms and legs to hide your surprise gift.
It was at that moment you heard the vibration from Bucky’s phone clutched in his hand, the man tried to not look sheepish as he not so covertly pressed the silence button.
Suspicion immediately filled you, “Bucky? What are you doing?”
“What are you doing?” He shot back, his brow knits in suspicion.
It was a standoff.
The two of you staring each other down in the dark of the hallway in your matching Christmas pajamas. Someone knocking on the front door startled you both before Bucky cursed under his breath, pointing at you, “Don’t follow me.”
His instruction surprised you as he brushed past you in the small hallway. You scoffed under your breath, “You’re in your PJ’s Buck, how far are you going?”
Bucky paused before going around the corner, “I mean it.” There was another soft but hurried knock and he cursed before disappearing.
A tisk of disapproval escaped you, but urgency filled your movements the second he was out of sight. Hands shaking slightly you hurried, pulling the sled out from the closet with as much silence as you could muster before dashing the Christmas tree. Stuffing the sled behind the tree, a few bulbs swinging back and forth as you fumbled to fluff the crumpled bow on Bucky’s surprise.
A cacophony of hushed grumbles and whispers came from the front door, you could have sworn you heard Sam as the door closed with a thunk and the lock turned. In a matter of seconds Bucky was coming around the corner again, an enormous gold box gripped in his hands affixed with a brilliant glittering green bow.
It was clear that Bucky didn’t see you immediately as he juggled the wobbly box and tried to remain quiet as he did so.
“Whatcha, got there?”
Bucky startled, socked feet skidding to a halt just at the corner of the couch as the box wobbled in his hands again. Frustrated and accusatory blue eyes narrowed, “What are you doing in here?” He asked in a hushed whisper.
“What are you doing in here?”
“You better not be shaking presents.”
“Please,” you scoffed. “I’ll have you know I haven’t shaken a present since I was ten. What’s in the box, Jamie?”
Bucky flinched a little, his one weakness was when you called him Jamie. His shoulders sagged a little as his grip on the box tightened, “This was supposed to be a surprise.”
“Oh I’m surprised,” you said with a laugh. The mantle clock began to ding for the early morning hour. Five AM came so early now. “Do you want to open our gifts now?”
Bucky pursed his lips, body jerking as the box tried to throw itself from his hands. “I think now is best.”
Butterflies fluttered in your stomach at the prospect of what the box could contain. But your eyes flitted over to the space behind the tree where you’d stuffed Bucky’s surprise and the anxious feeling grew tenfold as you thought about the question you were going to ask him once he’d seen it.
Clearing his throat Bucky nodded towards the Christmas tree and the traditional present opening space. Dutifully you sat down in the chair, eyes darting over behind the tree to where your gift sat. “Um, mine's not wrapped.”
“That’s alright,” he said, setting the box at your feet as it rattled all on its own now that it was on the floor. “Where is mine and we’ll do them on the count of three.”
“Alright,” you agreed, fingers tapping the edges of your box. “Yours is behind the tree.”
You saw his eyes dart over to the tree and then back down to you, “On three.”
“Alright,” you agreed, fingers poised to rip at the bow on top of the gift. “One.”
“Two,” Bucky echoed, taking a step closer to the tree.
“Three!”
Your fingers began tearing at the bow on top of the gift box as it rattled against the floor. Pushing back the loose gold paper and terrible tape job before, POP!
Two of the most adorable brown eyes you’d ever seen stared up at you. You were stunned for a moment, staring down at the cutest little paws and wet nose you’d ever laid your eyes on.
“OHMYGODAPUPPY!!”
The shrieking sob spilled past your lips as you pulled the squirming pup into your arms, its tiny tongue licking and sniffing all over your face and mouth. Tears spilled from your eyes as the little bundle in your arms wiggled, squirmed, and kissed your face everywhere; its bottom wiggling so much they tumbled out of your arms and into your lap.
“Oh my god,” you blubbered, holding the precious little one to you. “Bucky! He’s so cute. Oh, it’s a she. She’s so cute, James. Oh god! Oh my god, I love her so much. I can't—I can’t believe this! This is real right? Do I get to keep her? Bucky?”
Looking up Bucky was angled away from you, the lights of the Christmas tree gleaming off of his arm as he held onto his new sled. His fingers found the tag as he stared at it in the dim lighting.
He sniffled briefly before he began to read, “Roses are red, violets are blue, do me the—the honor—the honor of spending my life with you?”
Teary blue eyes turned towards you as you held the squirming puppy in your arms. “Doll,” he squeaked out with a sniffle as a few tears began to slip. “You…”
Looking up at him from your seat you reached into the side table drawer pulled out a distinctive black ring box and opened it. Inside, a single simple gold band that had Bucky’s breath catching.
“Will you,” you croaked out, clearing your throat a little more and juggling your new bundle of joy in your arms. “Will you marry me, James Buchanan Barns?”
A laugh escaped Bucky as he lowered the sled to the floor, and then himself. Bucky knelt before you, down on one knee, and reached forward towards the little puppy squirming in your arms. His fingers brushed against a tiny piece of string attached to the bow, you’d missed it but he lifted the dangling object for your inspection. A beautiful golden ring with what had to be the most enormous diamond you’d ever seen.
Your shocked watery gaze met Bucky’s impossibly blue eyes, “Only if you say yes too.”
The puppy leaped down from your lap, content to explore their new apartment as you slid down and onto Bucky’s lap. Arms wrapping around his shoulders and kissing him harder than you ever had before. Warmth blossomed in your chest as Bucky’s lips parted briefly with a light moan, kissing one another with dizzying urgency.
Gasping for air the two of you parted briefly, planting pecking kisses against one another lips.
“Is that a yes,” he husked, his hands sliding up and down your back.
“Yes, it’s a yes, Jamie.”
Grinning up at you, Bucky cradled you against him, “I didn’t know if you’d say yes.”
“Of course I’d say yes,” you whispered, holding onto him tightly. “After all, you did get me that puppy I’ve always wanted.”
A laugh escaped Bucky as he held you tightly and buried his face against your chest, his shoulders shaking in what could only be a relief, “Fuck, I love you so much.”
“I love you too, Blue-Eyes.”
END
#bucky barnes x you#bucky x reader#bucky x you#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barns x reader#bucky barns x y/n#bucky barns fanfiction#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x y/n#mcu#TFWS#winter soldier#avengers#bucky barnes#marvel
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Not his type
Javier Peña x f!reader
summary: you are helping at Chucho’s ranch and Javier thinks you are still definitely not his type
warnings: as usually SMUT ( vaginal fingering, oral -m!receiving, male masturbation, protected p in v, biting, hair pulling), cursing, soft!Javi - cuz that’s my favorite genre of Javi -, just a smudge of angst, mentions of bullying, mentions of food, fluff
word count: 10.5 k (I like them big I guess *wink wink*)
A/N: I planned to start my Marcus Pike fic but then this idea popped into my head and I just had to write it. This is basically just a long friends to lovers fic.
Javier Peña is not a simple man – far from it. He is bitter and hot-headed, and he feels small no matter what he does – he should have done better, he should have been smarter, quicker. He shouldn't have been such an idiot. Maybe then he wouldn’t be now standing in front of his childhood home. Maybe then...
But no matter what Javier thinks of himself he is a good man. He is caring and always wants to do the right thing – even if the consequences of his actions make him look like a bad guy. He doesn’t care – or he does but doesn’t let it show. Doesn’t want people to know that perhaps he is not as strong as he seems. Doesn’t want them to know that he cares – sometimes too deeply. Doesn’t want them to know he might feel – it's better if he seems unapproachable and looks like if you'd touch him, he'd burn you too greatly - so much that you would want to do nothing with him ever again.
So Javier feels the weight of all of his sins drop into his stomach when he keeps standing on the porch of Chucho’s house with a suitcase that he had packed with himself from Bogotá. He wanted to leave all of his old life behind but some memories stay with things that are bound to them.
He feels like a little boy again when he came home crying because lads – older and bigger than him – were picking on him. He feels like the little boy who hid behind the skirts of his dear mama when guests came to visit. That’s why he wants to look so tough, that’s why he is so hard around the edges – he changed, Bogotá changed him so he wouldn’t have to feel that small ever again. But even that didn’t help. Deep inside he is still that little boy. He can hide behind his bravado - his stern scowl and cold gaze- but that fact will never change.
He doesn’t know how long he has been standing there until the door swings open – almost hitting him in the face – and he sees Chucho standing in the doorway. His signature cowboy hat on his head and that old red flannel shirt he bought him on Christmas ages ago seems a little tighter around his middle than he'd last seen him in it. He is older – slower, the age showing on his face. But when he smiles as he sees Javier in front of him he looks 30 years younger.
Javier looks a lot like his pops – he has the same nose that he hated when he was younger – and pops had the same colored dark hair once that curls if it gets too long. They have the same dimple on the left side of their face if they smile too hard and like his pops, Javier could never really grow a proper beard.
Pops hugs him as if he hadn't seen him in ages – and to be honest, that is true. Work and life always got in the way and he regrets all the time he missed with him. He also didn’t want to come home – his mother’s things were still everywhere in the house. Her pictures, the warms blankets - that Javier loved to wrap around himself on the colder nights in Laredo - scattered on the armchairs and couch. He didn’t want to see Pops sad and so he stayed behind in Bogotá drowning in work, booze and women. The Peña men had different ways of grieving. Chucho never said anything to Javi though – he didn’t blame him for not coming, didn’t yell at him for letting him be alone on holidays – and he should have. He should do all those things because maybe then Javier wouldn’t feel like such a bad son.
When they part Chucho smiles – he didn’t smile a whole lot after Javi's mom died. “It's good to see you, Javier.” He pats him on the back – a little clumsily, Javier notices but he puts a tight smile on his face. He missed a whole lot.
“You too, pops. How have you been?” It’s a question he knows the answer to. He always answers the same – busy. After the death of his wife Pops seemed to spend most of his day outside working on a ranch. Barely coming home to eat or drink. Wanted to occupy his mind. “Seems like you started actually eating as I said.” Pops waves his hand back at him.
“You calling me fat, mijo?” Javier opens his mouth to answer but Pops beat him to it, his belly shaking a little with laughter. “Someone has been helping me out for a while now. Cooking and cleaning the house once in a while.” Javier quirks an eyebrow at this and he pushes the small suitcase as he enters – now his home, too. It didn’t change here in the slightest. Pops throws him a look above his shoulder as he looks him up and down quickly. “Seems like you have been skipping out on meals, my boy. Come, Bee is here and the lunch should be already done. She made Pozole de Pollo o Guajolote. Your mother's recipe.” Javi stands straighter at the nickname. Surely he didn’t mean...
The delicious smell coming from the kitchen makes his stomach rumble and he doesn’t remember the last time he had a proper meal. He abandons the suitcase in the hallway after he takes off his boots and jacket that he puts on the old wooden hanger for coats he made with Pops when he was around 12 –its asymmetrical and weird-looking seeming like it was made by a child – which it was but it’s a memory Javier is very fond of.
The floors creak under Javier's quick footsteps and he stops in the doorway as he watches you fuss around his dad. His entire body softens, the crease in his forehead disappearing as he sees you in the Peña kitchen. The past coming into the present. Prepping the silverware on the table that lays in the middle of the smaller kitchen. He sees that Pops kept everything in place like it was even before the death of Javi's mother. He missed this place. Even though bittersweet memories crawl out on the surface of his mind and his heart aches like it hadn’t in a really long time.
“Seems like you are a busy bee, Bee.” Javier smirks when you look up at him. You didn’t really change after the last time he had seen you. Sure, you aged – as has he – but you still kept your spark from all those years ago. You smile fondly – and a little unsure – at him as you quickly wipe your hands on the apron wrapped around your middle. And Javier notices - of course, he does. The hesitation in your step when you walk to him. The little twitch of your lips you make when you are nervous.
He is an observant man. He watches and analyzes. And he is good at it too - you squirm under his intense gaze. As if he could see every little part of your soul, even the deepest secrets you kept hidden somewhere back down inside of you. That’s why he is such a good agent. Was, at least. His dark eyes shift to your cleavage just for a second. You don’t notice - his eyes quickly scanning you up and down.
He looks good. Even better than the last time you saw him. The mustache he grew suits him. His hair is longer than he had when he went to high school with you. He is broader and seems even taller. He is a man now, not the little boy you played hide and seek with. He still wears the same smirk on his lips though - that kind of smirk that meant trouble when you two were younger. His jeans hug him in just all the right places and the black shirt he is wearing makes him somehow look even hotter. All man.
“You know me. Never could keep still.”
And he does. He does know you. Or at least he did - when you two were just young kids, then stupid teenagers and suddenly - strangers too. You grew up at the Peña dinner table as much as your own. Your mothers were great friends, your fathers old buddies. You had a farm right next to them which you eventually sold when your folks passed away and it was just too much work for only you alone. You bought a small house with the money you received.
Javier still remembers when he first saw you – all toothy grin and two braids sitting on top of your head. You wore that stupid flowy dress in an ugly mustard color. You were more of the outgoing type and Javier – to everyone's surprise – was more of the lonely kid. He was smaller than his peers – smaller than you even, when you first met him. And he doesn’t remember why you started talking to him and wanted to become his friend but he didn’t complain at that time. You visited him almost every single day – looking for mischief all around. Broken glasses and bones were nothing new to both of you. The two of you were inseparable – until high school. Javier – for once in his life, thanks to you - didn’t feel so small anymore. He grew up to be a handsome and smart, confident and funny, pretty charming and self-assured young man. Girls started noticing him and he loved the attention – when their heads turned around to look. They thought he never noticed. But alas, Javier was an observant boy even back then and he noticed – his cockiness getting on your nerves sometimes. He never wanted to feel small again.
And like almost every girl – you developed a huge crush on him. But it wasn’t because he was tall and cocky, no. It was simply because you knew the real Javier – your Javi. Who hated being alone and who hated going to the church every Sunday – hiding in the dusty, covered in spider webs attic. He never noticed you – like he noticed the other girls. He never gave you that loop-sided grin or the puppy heart-filled eyes. You were just great friends - even when you wished for more. And one day you weren't even that.
You should have seen it coming, really. With Javier becoming popular, he started hanging out with you less and less. When you came to Peña's household he was already out with his new friends. And you always came running to him like a pathetic little puppy who comes to his owner no matter how many times they kick him. His friends laughed at you. And later on, he started laughing with them. He got a girlfriend – Lorraine, the sweet and perfect Lorraine – before you two stopped talking. The old memory still stings when you think about it.
It happened on one of those super warm summer nights in Laredo. You wore one of your favorite dresses. It hugged your curves and you thought you look absolutely beautiful in it – your mother said so too. You asked Javi if you could meet up at your spot – the old scrap yard just a couple minutes' walk from both of your houses. When you arrived there your stomach dropped to your feet – his friends sitting with him on your favorite car that was reserved for only you and Javi. Laughing and drinking booze, the atmosphere lose. But you didn’t feel lose – your muscles taunt and all you wanted to do was just turn on your heels and leave. Cry about this stupid little crush you had on this stupid Texas boy. But Javier spotted you before you could do so – somehow he could always spotted you even in the biggest of crowds.
“Bee! Come and join us!” He yelled, one of his hands shooting into the air as he held an unopened can of beer. And with his other hand...he was holding Lorraine. They were close to each other – her almost sitting on his lap as she placed kisses on the column of his throat. You swallowed the ball of anxiety that was building in your throat as you heard them whisper: “Why did you call her, man?” He didn’t answer as he smiled at you. Lorraine's eyes squinting at you in annoyance.
Clearing your throat you asked: “Javi, can we talk?” He just shrugged his shoulders as he hopped off from the roof of the car mumbling a quick “sure”. He wasn’t wearing a t-shirt – you noticed just then. The sun was slowly setting and his golden skin shined. The butterflies in your belly made you want to go home and squeal into your pillow. You gulped and a few of his friends whistled – noticing the once-over you gave him.
“Someone has an admirer here, Peña. Too bad she is so fat and ugly! Like a pig – oink oink!” All of them bursted into laughter and to your surprise – so did Javier. He laughed straight into your face and you fought the tears in your eyes to not spill as you finally turned on your heel – as you should have done much sooner – and left. You didn’t see the remorseful look in his eyes and the way his muscle twitched, his mind screaming at him to go after you. He never wanted to feel small ever again and his friends said you were a loser – people like him shouldn’t talk to people like you. He didn´t want to be loser again.
Lorraine pulls him by the shoulder back to her – her tongue plunging into his mouth and when they pull apart she grins, the long nails of hers scraping across his golden-tanned chest.
“Forget about her, Javi. You don’t need her.” He nodded – unsure – but he didn’t have time to think about it too much as her tongue fought with his once more – the heavy taste of beer on her tongue filling all of his senses.
After that, you stop talking to Javier. You still came to his house - with your mama - but you didn’t greet him anymore and he was pretty sure you told your and his mother as well, as they always threw him a dirty look whenever he was in the same room as you. You didn’t look at him and you didn’t acknowledge his presence anymore. He hated that he felt so small again even though he didn’t have a reason to. He had friends and a girlfriend, and all the girls threw themselves at him. So why does his stomach pull tight anytime he is near you, why does he feel like he lost peace of himself?
One day he decides he has had enough. Both of your mothers went outside to catch the last rays of the sun and you are alone in the kitchen – baking your famous apple pie. He sneaks behind you and cages you in. You feel his breath on your neck, the slow raise and fall of his chest. You turn around – your noses almost touching – and he sees the hot fury in your eyes. You are covered in flour and Javier thinks – just for a split second - he had never seen you look so fucking beautiful. His gaze lingers on your mouth maybe a little too long because he sees you are talking – your mouth opening and closing.
“What do you want, Javier?” You ask and he had never heard you so annoyed, so drained. You didn’t look like yourself anymore and didn’t sound like it too.
“Us to start talking again, Bee.” Because Javier is selfish and he takes and takes. Sometimes forgetting to give something back in return. He widens his eyes when he feels the sting on one of his cheeks – his head moving to one side with the force of it. You slapped him. He looks at you – you are all wide eyes and snarling teeth.
“Fuck you, Peña.” You quickly try to scramble away from him because you feel like crying again. No because of sadness – no. That sadness turned into raw fury after the incident at the scrap yard. Because of how idiotic and stupid he is. And because – no matter what he had done and told you – you can’t seem to shake off the crush you have on him. He grits his teeth and his hand grabs your wrist. Both of your breathing erratic.
“It's not my fault you are not my type, Bee.” He didn’t mean to say that - the words coming from his mouth sound foreign to him. Not right. But his hot temper gets the best of him and the way he said and what he said should not hurt that much. But it does. It feels like he had just stabbed you in the heart and then twisted the knife – deeper and deeper.
You yank away from his grip and you point a finger at him – your hand shaking with the hurt, anger, sadness, Everything coming at you in waves - it feels so fucking overwhelming. You want to scream at him, kick him, hurt him as much as he had hurt you. But what good would it do? None.
You exhale shakily and Javier waits for the fight but it doesn’t come. You shrink into yourself and turn to leave. You look at him above your shoulder as you whisper. “I hate you so fucking much, Javier Peña.” And you are gone.
The heavy weight of your words lingers in the air and he feels the hot tears running down the apple of his cheeks. He quickly wipes them away. His ears are ringing and he doesn’t hear your mother yelling at you about what happened. He doesn’t smell your apple pie burning in the oven. He fucked up. Because he will never get to talk to you again or feel your touch. He will never hear you laugh and he will never get to comfort you again when you cry. Because the only source of your sorrow is him – the stupid Texas boy you now despised.
Javier comes to present and you give him a quick side hug telling him to sit down. Chucho watches both of you and he prays that you are both wise enough now to sort out this little grudge you have. But you are also both too stubborn and the dinner passes in silence. The only sound is the clinking of silverware cutting through the thick air and sometimes Chucho quips in to ask Javier about Colombia - Javier doesn’t want to talk about that, though. So he stays quiet as he chews - the food tastes exactly like his mother’s.
When Javier sneaks a quick look at you he thinks that maybe he wasn’t such an idiot. The bitterness from your last talk makes his face twist. He hates how - even after all these years - you seem to not acknowledge him even though you try to stay as polite towards him as possible. As if you just look through him and not at him. He watches as you pass his pops a salt and you grin at something he says.
And yeah, you are still definitely not his type.
Javier sees you almost every day. It drives him fucking crazy. The way you just nod at him when he passes by or is in the same room as you – which is mostly kitchen -, the way you don’t answer his questions about you. How have you been, what did you do after high school? He only knows your folks passed away shortly after he left for Colombia – Chucho told him over the phone. Your parents felt like second ones to him. He wanted to call you after Chucho told him, he really did. But he didn’t know your number – that was just an excuse, he knows that and he also knows Chucho would have given it to him if he asked. He feared that you would hang up on him, that if he heard your broken voice he would book the closest flight to come to you. After all – you were best friends a long time ago.
Javier wants to know everything about you – but you give him nothing. You are just a big complicated riddle to him and he has no hints to figure you out. He notices you though and the things you still do. You still enjoy watching sunsets as you did when you were younger. And that you talk to plants when you water them or that you still secretly go and feed horses a few sugar cubes even though you really shouldn’t. That you still hum when you cook and squint your eyes on either him or Chucho when they enter the kitchen because you don’t like when somebody disturbs you while you are in you’re your element. You always liked to bake and cook – often sneaking into the kitchen with him late at night because he wanted cookies and you gave in and baked them. Because he asked you to and said please – Javier never said please often and that habit he kept.
So because you don’t seem happy when he wants to talk to you or occupies the same room – you actually don’t seem happy with his presence in general and that makes his heart tighten even if he doesn’t understand why – he spends most of his day tending to the ranch. Feeding the animals and fixing the old barn. Today he started fixing the old fence that didn’t even look like a fence at all anymore. He grunts as he stands up – he is getting old and his back is fucking killing him. The Texas sun makes him sweat, he smells and he feels thirsty – has felt thirsty for a while now. But he knows it's afternoon and you are probably in the house cooking. He contemplates it – he doesn’t want to see you uncomfortable around his sheer presence but fuck. He feels like he could drink a whole gallon of water. Fuck it, he thinks as his steps lead him to the Pena house. You knew he was coming back home – if you didn’t want to stick with him, you wouldn’t.
When he is finally inside and the sun doesn’t burn his face, he takes off his yellow aviators and the thick working gloves. He is covered in sweat and dirt and as he enters the kitchen you think he never looked better. But he always does in your eyes and you hate yourself for it. You gulp and turn your back to him as you try to quickly scribble the things you need to get at the farmers market today. Your body stiffens when he walks behind you – his shirt brushes against your shoulders - and grabs one of those old funny-looking glasses you painted together when you were probably around 9. The air thickens and the atmosphere is awkward – you both want to say something but nothing comes out of your mouths. Finally, Chucho enters and he looks at Javi and then back at you.
“Go shower, mijo. You are going with Bee today.” It's an order and Javi doesn’t want to argue. His house, his rules. Quite the opposite – maybe the change of setting will finally let you loosen up and you will talk to him. He wants to say to you so much. He looks at you and you gape at Chucho as he throws you a pointed look. You swiftly shut your mouth – Javier taking the steps by two as he wants to scrub himself squeaky clean as soon as possible. He feels positively giddy – it reminds him of the times when he got his first car and drove around Laredo with you.
When he comes down the hushed conversation between you and Chucho comes to a halt and he looks between you two before Chucho almost pushes you out of the house. You drag your feet behind you and the giddiness he felt leaves him as he sees your “enthusiasm”. He wants to go and hide in the nearest hole, lick the wounds he pretends he doesn’t have but you are already sitting in the passenger seat by the time he gets his head out of the gutter.
The ride is awkward, filled with silence and you squirm every once in a while in your seat. You glance at Javier's profile a few times – his strong jawline and his aquiline nose. You stare at his hands and how come they are so big? The veins are prominent on the back of them - leading to the thick fingers, nails trimmed neatly. His hair is longer now after a few weeks already spend at home. He looks better than when he arrived. Now he didn’t look as...tired. And as skinny – he always devours the meals you cook and you can see him filling up around the middle. His arms were much stronger and more muscular than before because of all the work he did on the ranch. Domesticity looks good on him. You watch as he grips the wheel and see his jaw tick before he sighs.
“I am sorry, Bee.” You raise your brows at him when he glances to see your reaction to his words. He never was good with them “actions speak louder than words” he always said. “I am sorry for what I said and how I treated you during high school. I was a fucking idiot and if I could take it all back-”
“You were.” It's a simple phrase, your words coming out fast and he grips the steering wheel tighter when your hand lands on his thigh. “But that’s all I ever wanted to hear, Javier. Yes, your words and actions hurt me in the past. And they still hurt me now when I think about them. But there's nothing we can do about it now. We were kids and if it didn’t happen I don’t think I would become the person I am now so I accept your apology even if it could have been a better one. You should really work on your people skills.” You shrug your shoulders as you tease him and the hand that was resting on his thigh moves into your lap once again. He wants to tell you you could have kept it there – it felt too fucking good even if it was such a simple and innocent touch. It grounded him and Javier is touch deprived.
“So, that’s it?” He asks, his tongue poking out to lick his lower lip as he raises his eyebrows while he watches the road.
“Yes, that’s it.”
The conversation flows smoothly after that and Javier can't believe it was that easy. If he apologized much sooner he could have been talking to you for weeks now. He missed this – your talks. You talked with your hands a lot and he enjoys how expressive you are when you are telling something. He learns a lot about you. You own a little bakery here - that’s why you are so flexible and can come almost anytime to the ranch. He feels proud of you – your dream was always to open a small bakery somewhere. At least one of us could make their dream come true.
You laugh and talk, and tell stupid jokes or occurrences that happened in your life. He missed a whole lot and so have you. Your favorite story of his is when he told about the time his neighbor – an old lady – saw him butt naked because the woman he slept with locked him out of his own apartment after he told her he wanted nothing serious. His neighbor called him over to have some fun which he politely declined. You double over laughing and Javi grins, his cheeks hurting. He missed your laugh – he didn’t feel this comfortable ever since...well ever since you stopped talking.
The ride passes quickly and when you step out of the car you come around – grabbing Javis's hand as you mumble something about “want to show you around here, Javi, so much changed after you left” as you throw him a quick grin. He can only concentrate on your nimble fingers between his and how it feels so fucking right before you are dragging him behind you.
You are not his type he has to remind himself as he squeezes your hand tightly.
Javier comes into the house all muddy once again. It has been raining in Laredo for the past few days - the land all soaked soil and dirt. He takes of his boots before he enters. His nose drags him into the kitchen as he catches the smell of pie. Sweet and delicious - or was it just you, standing here all soft and pretty? He can't tell anymore. These past few weeks were filled with nothing but joy – almost. You played cards with him and Chucho late at night, drinking beer and listening to Chucho's stories. Sometimes you went riding with him on the ranch. Your love for horses didn’t die out and you always were natural with them. You have your favorite one too – the small chestnut-colored mare with a fiery temperament that seems to tolerate only you. Chuho wanted to sell her a long time ago but you begged him on your knees – literally – not to. His eyes softened and he agreed reluctantly – he could never say no to you. Something both Peña men had in common.
Anytime Javier looks at you he feels his stomach tighten with something – sometimes arousal but he blames that on the lack of sex, sometimes on something entirely else. He tries to push it deep inside him but whenever he catches your smell his head gets all dizzy and he has the need to find you and talk to you, be near you He hates it. He hates it so fucking much. He doesn’t know what you did to him. He can't seem to shake you out of his mind. He thinks of you anytime he sees the sun setting down or the last time he picked violets for you as he saw them growing a few miles away from the ranch. Because you love violets. He gave them to you with a darker shade of red covering his ears as he scratched his neck. You thanked him and kissed him on the cheek then – his heart hammering in his chest, his pulse quickening and his lower half seemed all too interested in the skin-to-skin contact. As your lips lingered on his cheek as he thought about against what other parts of him would they feel so soft.
Javi leans against the doorframe as he watches you knead the dough – one of the pies already in the oven. You look so nice in your overalls. He could just bend you over the kitchen counter and -
Shut the fuck up, Peña. Don’t even think about getting hard.
You startle when you turn around and see him, your dough-covered hand flying to your chest as you yelp. “Javier Peña, don’t scare me like that!” You scowl at him, your lip pursed and he grins – his hands shooting into the air in a silent apology.
“Didn't mean to, Bee.” The corner of his lips pulls up as you murmur “sure you didn’t" and turn back around to put more flour in the dough. He quickly washes his hands in the sink and comes behind you – he inhales your scent and closes his eyes. The hair on your neck stands up. “You smell so fucking good.” It's a quiet statement. You look at him wide-eyed and he gives you a confused look in return.
“What did you say?” Your throat pulls tighter. Shit, shit, shit.
“Uh-um, that if you'd show me how you knead the dough.” He closes his eyes – idiot, idiot. You breathe out a small “oh” and shake the shock off of you as you nod and come behind him as you grab his hands in yours.
And fuck, Javier thinks his pulse went from zero to a hundred in this second. His heart feels like it will jump out of his chest any second. Your small hands on his makes him think back to a few weeks ago.
You stayed at Peñas that night. You always drove back home but that night it was raining a lot and it was too late anyways. You agreed as Chucho asked you if you wanted to stay – they had a smaller spare room right next to Javis. You bid them both good night and fell asleep quickly after that. You were exhausted but a scream woke you up and you swiftly stood up on your feet and scrambled into Javier's room. He sat on the bed – all sweaty, his breath quick as his head rested in his palms. He looked up at you when the old wooden floor creaked under your footsteps. He cleared his throat and tried to hide from you. You crouched in front of him and offered him a little smile.
“You don’t have to hide from me, Javi.” And then he was pulling you into him, breathing you in, his hands pulled around you tightly as he sobbed into your shoulder. He was exhausted of pretending everything was fine. The weight of all the things that he did in Colombia came crashing down on him. You just shushed him as he listened to your heartbeat – his head on your chest, your hand in his as you stroked the back of it. When he finally calmed down he told you everything – the things he did, the things he should have done and the things he shouldn’t have. He told you about Los Pepes and Carilo, and the nightmares that still haunted him.
“I am just a shell of a man I once was, Bee.” He whispered into the night and you grabbed both sides of his face as you frowned at him.
“You are far more than that, Javi.” He wanted to kiss you right there and then but you pulled him on your chest again and he breathed you in once more. The slow rise and fall of your chest lulls him to sleep. He never slept that well in his life.
When he woke up the other side of the bed was cold but the smell of you – like an apple pie – lingered on the other pillow and he wanted to drown in it. He stroked himself at the thought of you as he smelled the pillow. Your soft hands and the feel of your breasts against his face, the small brush of your lips against his forehead. He came embarrassingly quickly and couldn’t look you straight in the eyes for a few days after that. Neither of you talked about that night. As if it never happened.
So now he curses himself as he feels how he twitches in his pants – the soft swell of your breasts pressed up against his back. The collar of his shirt is a bit too tight as well as his pants. For fucks sake, Peña. He hasn’t slept with anyone since he came back home and it showed. You don’t seem to notice though.
“You are pretty clumsy with your hands, Javier.” He chokes on seemingly nothing and almost pushes you onto the ground as he stumbles a few steps back. Let me show you how good with my hands I can be -
“Gotta take a shower.” He says and he takes the steps by two - almost falling over. He closes the door of the bathroom with little more force than necessary. He scrambles with his closes almost ripping them from him and he grabs his aching cock – tugging on it firmly as a spurt of precum shoots out of the head. He steps into the shower – the spray of cold water not helping him calm down his hammering heart or the way his skin seems to be on fire. He strokes himself quickly – the strokes measured as he thinks of your pretty lips around him or that pretty pussy you sure have. He thinks of the swell of your breast on his back, your breath on the back of his neck, your hand in his, your pretty smile and kind eyes. He thinks about how you would feel around him if he pounded into you from behind or what sounds would you make when he would go down on you. How wet would you be? Are you the quiet type or would he have to put his fingers – or something else – in your mouth to shut you up?
He grunts and his forehead bumps onto the cold tiles of the shower as he cums. He watches how the water downs his spend and he tries to wash the guilt he feels off of him too.
You are not his type, he thinks as he tugs on his cock for the final time.
You are going on a date. Javier watches with a frown on his face as you fumble around to finish the dinner. You are wearing a pretty dress – a light green one with a flowy skirt that exposes the whole expanse of your back. The strings on your shoulder are the only thing keeping it in place. You look absolutely incredible. He didn’t want you to go. Fuck, what if the guy was some kind of psycho? Or worse, what if he was actually a decent guy and you'd stop helping Chucho because you would be too occupied with your new little boy toy? What would Chucho do without you – yes, Chucho of course, not Javier. Javier wasn’t jealous and he definitely wasn’t praying that your date would end up in disaster...Okay, he felt jealous. Like “I will rip that guy in shreds” type of jealous.
And Javier would be alone tonight – Chucho left in the morning to visit his “friend” - he knows he went to Mária living across from the barber's shop. He didn’t say anythimg – the lie falling out of Chucho’s lips easily. And he felt happy for him – him moving on meant he was healing. Slowly but healing. Javi wanted to do something nice for you two tonight– the store-bought cheesecake lying in the fridge. He thought that you could watch TV today – watch anything you wanted. Maybe then he would slip his hand under the hem of your dress and he would -
“Javi!” You wave your hand in front of his face and he blinks a few times. You even put on makeup – the red lipstick making your lips look downright edible and he licks his own lips. He could pull you in and make you forget about your silly little date. But for once in his life Javier didn’t want to be greedy when it came down to you – you seemed so excited when you told him you had a date and he planted on the best fake smile on his face he could muster. Even though he felt sick to his stomach when you told him, his fingers twitching to catch your wrist and pull you close – to tell you you should fuck that guy and stay with him tonight. “You listening?”
“Sorry, what did you say?” You groan in annoyance – already running late – and you grab him by the collar – oh, he likes this a lot. You are so fucking close he feels your breath fan across his face.
“Listen, Javi. I don’t have time for this. The Chiles Rellenos are in the oven so they won't get cold as quickly. If it gets cold just put it in the microwave.” he nods – he knows this, of course – but wants to keep you busy because maybe then your date would cancel – no, he can't.
“Okay.” He says slowly and you let go of the collar of his shirt – just now noticing you grabbed him by it. You pull away from him. “If anything-”
“I call you. You already told me. Don’t worry, dad. I'll be fine.” You grin and turn on your heel waving a quick goodbye before the doors shut behind you. Javier gulps the growing ball in his throat and curses at himself. Idiota. But you know - of course you are not his type.
Javier watches the starry sky tonight. The cheesecake forgotten in the fridge alongside your dinner – he felt so sick to his stomach he was pretty sure he'd throw up if he ate anything. The warm blanket his mother knitted lays heavy on his shoulder as he looks at the sky – millions of stars showing tonight. You'd love to see it – maybe you already are. Star-watching sounds like the kind of date you would have loved. He fiddles with the handle of his mug filled with hot cocoa in his lap and thinks. About how he got here, about his fuck ups – and the biggest fuck up he has ever done was to let you go on that stupid date, he concludes. Okay, maybe not the biggest fuck up but close enough. He straightens up when he spots a car pulling into the driveway – your car. A small grin makes its way onto his lips until he sees your sagged shoulders and the slow way you drag your heels behind you.
“You have room for another in there?” You ask – your voice small compared to when you left. Pointing a finger at the spot next to him. He nods quickly and when you sit he immediately wraps the blanket around your shoulders – your head resting on his shoulder. It's quiet for a while as he offers you his mug and you drink from it leisurely. He knows you will tell him what happened if you want to. The silence is not awkward – it’s a comfortable one. He always feels comfortable with you. You pull away from him and put the mug on the ground – pulling your knees close to your chin.
“Can I ask you something?” You look at him from the corner of your eye, your words muffled by your knees.
“Anything, Bee.” And he means that. You could ask him anything in the world and he would answer you no matter what question.
“Why am I not your type? You know, cuz it seems I am no one's type.” He knows you are referring to the time when he was angry at you after you slapped him. But he didn’t mean to say it. He doesn’t know how to answer – his tongue heavy all of the sudden and fuck, why is so hard to just tell you.
Rather than answering you he twists his torso so he can look at you – really look at you. The moonlight shines on half of your face and how did he never notice how pretty your eyes were? Or your plush lips, your soft hair? He gulps as he reaches forward tentatively – his palm resting on the side of your face now. And he expects you to pull away – to tell him to fuck off. But you don’t. His throat is dry and he feels like his lungs can't seem to have enough oxygen in them because his brain seems to stop functioning too. He brushes his fingertips across your cheek and you would have never expected that Javier Peña could be so gentle with his touch. He looks at your lips – your mouth open just a tiny bit and he sees your Adam's apple bob. Do you want this as much as he does? Or is he imagining things and projecting his own fucked up desires and feelings onto you at this very moment? He doesn’t have much time to think about it before your fingers tangle into his hair at the back of his head, his breath picks up and your mouth surges forward – your lips meeting his.
He feels like fireworks just exploded in his stomach. His skin tingles and his hands brush against the front of your dress. Your hand on his nape makes him groan into you and he brushes your collarbone with his calloused hand. He wanted this for so long and he didn’t even know about it. The other grabs you by the neck and pulls you even closer – the blanket falling off of you two when you swing your legs on either side of his narrow hips. He presses his lips against yours with more force and he is confident and greedy with it. He curls his hand around your waist and his fingertips dig into your hip while the other hand presses into your shoulder blades. He can feel the blood rushing through his veins and he is warm and fuzzy all over – his body humming with something he never felt before.
You were never kissed this way before – Javier takes, and takes but gives back even more in return. The kiss is impatient and hungry – like he waited for this all of his life. His hands on your skin make you hum out in pleasure and you trail your hand to his jaw – you can feel the stumble he has under your fingertips. You open your mouth to him and the hand on your hip squeezes you tighter, and he wants you closer, closer – this is not enough. Not close enough. And you feel the same as you pull him closer by the collar and he groans into your mouth. You can taste the warm cocoa on his tongue and his smell invades all your senses – cigarettes, his cologne and something entirely him. Musky and sweet. Your cheeks burn and your palms are sweaty when he pulls away from the kiss – his hands brushing along the exposed skin on your back, his thumb circling your hip. His forehead rests on yours as he tries to calm down and your nails scrape across his exposed chest – he always has a few buttons unbuttoned on his shirt and it drives you insane. He moans when he feels the sensation of your nails on his skin – his hips bucking up to meet yours and you mewl as you feel the bulge press up against your core.
“Fuck, Bee. I want to fuck you so badly. Do you want that too? Tell me. Tell me, please.” Javier Peña said please. He never says please. Yoou nod furiously as you peck him on the lips – his mouth surges to meet yours once again and you lap at his lower lip, your hands fisting into the material of his shirt.
“Wanted this since I was 16 and crazy in love with you, Javi.” You whisper against his lips and your confession makes his heart beat with joy. You loved him. He grips the flesh on your hips and mumbles a breathy “okay” before he stands up and carries you with him – your legs wrap around his middle. He stumbles a few times and almost trips on the stairs as he keeps kissing you – his tongue nibbling at your collarbones, his hands supporting your weight as he holds you by the back of your thighs.
When you arrive in his room he throws you on the bed and starts to quickly undress. His fingers shake and he can't seem to unbutton the fucking shirt. Fuck. He stands in front of the edge of the bed and you lean back on your elbows – your gaze heavy with lust. As you see him struggling you crawl onto the edge of the bed and loop your fingers between his belt. He stops and looks at you – you eye the heavy bulge between his thighs and he gulps when your fingers trail his jean-clad cock which jumps with interest under your touch. He has never been this fucking hard before and he knows it's not because for the past few months, the only thing he has been fucking was his fist – it's because of you. “Let me.” You murmur and he nods, he watches your nimble fingers working on his buttons and when he shackles the piece of clothing off him your hands map out his chest, coming down to his belly button and you lick your lips when you see the trail of hairs leading down into the waistband of his jeans. You kiss him right there – on the soft swell of his tummy – and he jumps forward, his hands gripping your head to keep you there. You grin against his skin and your tongue pokes out of your mouth to lick him there – he shudders, and the grip on your head loosens. You pull away from him and your hands start working on his belt – it falls to the ground with a quiet cling of the metal.
You cup him in your hand through the fabric of his jeans – even now you can feel how heavy he is and that he will feel fucking big inside of you. “You are a big boy aren't you, Javi?” He whimpers at your question and nods furiously as he looks down at you – your gaze immediately locking with his as you are already peering up at him through your eyelashes and you pout at his state. You never expected Javier to be so...needy. He closes his eyes when you squeeze him again and then he hears the sound of a zipper, he feels your breath ghosting over his tip. “No underwear?” He shakes his head and chokes when you lick the salty precum.
“No-no. Fuck. Too uncomfortable.” His eyes close as if he's in pain and his nostril flare when he feels the first velvety slide of your tongue against his cock. Your pulse quickens and you feel too fucking powerful right now as you feel him swell even more in your mouth. You hold his gaze as you pull off of him and flatten your tongue – licking your way to the underside of his cock. His hands cradle the back of your head, his pupils completely blown as he watches you put open-mouth kisses onto the hard warm flesh that jumps under your attention.
And he is fucking big – his size obvious by sight and by the way he feels around your hand – heavy and warm. But you really feel it when you take him deeper into your throat the girth of his cock opens your mouth wider. The broken sound between a whimper and a groan makes you clench around nothing and he tastes exactly how you imagined him – clean and delicious – exactly like Javier looks. You can't fit all of him in your mouth but you try – focusing on your breathing and relaxing your throat – the squelching sounds of your mouth bobbing up and down his length filling the room. You try to take him deeper and deeper – until you gag around him and pull away. Javis's mouth is wide open when you pull off of him – spit trailing from your lips and connecting you to the swollen tip of his cock. His chest heaves and he swipes his thumb across your bottom lip – collecting the saliva – and puts it in his mouth – he groans with approval and it makes you want to give him more. You sink your awaiting mouth back onto his cock once more and moan when another spurt of precum lands on your tongue. Your hand is securely wrapped around the base of his cock as you stroke him slowly and you look back up at him.
He looks absolutely and positively wrecked – his hair falling in front of his eyes and sticking to his forehead as he grits his teeth struggling to not make you take him deeper – to not fuck your throat. His grip on your hair tightens as he starts panting harshly and you feel him twitch in your mouth – you can feel he is almost there – but then he pulls back from you.
He almost lifts you into the air as his tongue delves into your mouth – wanting to taste himself on you. The bitterness of himself on your tongue makes him groan into your mouth and you never expected him to be this vocal. He steps out of his jeans and then he is back on you – his fingers working on the straps of your dress while he plants butterfly kisses on the column of your throat. He discards the piece of clothing as if it has offended him somehow and he pulls back to look at you – you can see the muscle on his thigh flex as he tries to keep his balance on his heels. His hands reach back for you – grabbing you under your knees before he is pulling you closer to him. His fingers dip into the waistband of your panties before they are too thrown somewhere behind him.
His thick fingers work their way inside you without a warning – two of them plunging deep. You are soft, and pliant under him. Your walls squeeze him tight when he moves his finger up, up – until you sob and grab his wrist - to stop him or to plea for him to keep doing that you aren't sure. It never felt like this and he grins against the flesh of your cheek – kissing you there softly. His other hand grabs one of your tits and he pinches the nipple – it hardens under his hard touch. He bends down to suck it into his mouth and your hand shoots out to the back of his head – keeping him there. One of your thighs is firmly planted on his shoulder and his fingernails dig into your ankle, the blunt nails creating crescent shapes. Your heel digs into his shoulder with a particular shove into your cunt – the tips of his fingers brushing against something that makes you hold your breath.
The way you keep repeating his name makes him want to never leave your perfect cunt. His name and the wet sounds of your pussy sucking him in make him light-headed. He wishes no one would call him Javi again after he hears it from your mouth – whiny and high-pitched, filled with the need to let go.
“Come on, Bee. I can feel you squeezing me. Fucking give it to me. I want you to soak my fingers.” You nod vigorously and sob when his thumb starts drawing harsh circles against your clit. He hits nerves inside of you you didn’t even knew you had before. You take everything he gives – the flick of his wrist, his fingers petting your walls, his mouth on yours. You cum when he bites you into the juncture between your shoulder and neck – his tongue smoothing the bite. You feel him smile against your mouth when you cry out into him – his fingers still working inside of you until you wheeze and tell him to stop. He pulls them out and maps your body with your juices – the slick trail shining under the moonlight that falls onto the both of you.
He reaches into his nightstand and pulls out a condom – ripping the foil packet between his teeth before he puts it onto his length. He sits up on his heels – his cock bobbing with the movement and you gulp as he pats his thigh – telling you to come to him and you do – all jelly legged and sedated after your first orgasm. He pulls you close by the small of your back and his cock nudges against your entrance when you swing your legs around his waist. His hairy legs stick to the back of your thighs and you can feel the sweat rolling off him – his hands supporting you as you sink down on him. Your mouth forming into an “o” and you let out a breathless moan. You knew he was big – as his girth opened up your mouth more and the weight of him heavy on your tongue. But this feels entirely different. You squirm on his lap and he grunts – his other hand coming down onto the flesh of your ass. The pinch you feel as he fills you completely is uncomfortable and you grip his bicep – your nails digging into the flesh there. He hisses and kisses you – the kiss languid and slow. His tongue traces your mouth and your grip loosens – your muscles start to relax.
“Javi, you are so big.” You don’t say him to make him feel better or feed his ego – it's just a fact. Clear and simple. His nose bumps against yours and he looks into your eyes – he is so close he is breathing the oxygen you exhale.
“I know, hermosa. But you can take it. Can’t you?” The new term of endearment falling out of his mouth is surprising but welcome nevertheless. He waits for your answer as he fights himself not to move – your walls squeezing around him and he counts to five so he doesn’t cum right now like some kind of fucking teenager.
Javier slept with a lot of women. One night stands, prostitutes, his fiancé. But he never felt like this with anyone. His heart never hammered in his chest so quickly and the blood in his veins didn’t boil. His skin never felt like it was on fire by a simple touch. It's new and he welcomes it with open arms. He is tired of fighting and running. This is his new life and it's not too bad – it's better than it ever was. He never feels small with you and he chases that feeling.
“Yes, I can. I can take it. Please move, Javi.” He listens to your command – the first drag of his cock through your walls feels intoxicating. His hot breath fans against your chest as his forehead rests on it and his hand that was gripping your ass moves to your hip – dragging you up and down his cock as you meet his every perfectly measured thrust. He maps your body and listens to your reactions – he figures out what you like or what you really don’t after a few minutes as he pounds into you.
You don’t know which one of you is louder but it makes him even sexier – the guys you’ve been with before weren't so enthusiastic about it and you felt like they didn’t even wanted to be there – the only hint of them enjoying it was when they came with a quiet grunt and fall onto the bed next to you. Javier is different – he always was – and you live for all the sounds he makes. How he gropes you and maps out your body – his fingers dipping into every crease and curve of your body. And you can feel that in each thrust there is this hidden emotion that he doesn’t want to show. But you grew up with him and can read him pretty well – and your heart swells with the unspoken words. You don’t need to hear them. He will figure it out himself eventually.
He feels that you are close after he gives you a particularly hardh thrust and you squeal – your nails scratching his muscular back that you’ve been ogling anytime he came out of the shower without a t-shirt or when it was too hot outside and decided the piece of clothing wasn’t necessary in that kind of weather. His mustache scrapes along the flesh on your breasts and you feel his hips shift – the change of position making him feel even bigger. He puts his thumb into your mouth as he looks at you and you suck it – it tastes of you and sweat but you don’t care – as he pulls it out and starts rubbing your clit with it.
It only takes a few drags of his cock before you are cumming – your clit throbbing as he keeps pressure on it. Your walls squeeze him and he feels like he can't move any further. Your fingers curl into his hair and tug him so he is looking at you. He is all lust-blown eyes and his baring teeth turned into a snarl. You can feel every vein and bump in his cock with every thrust and he twitches inside of you – his hand coming to hold the hinge of your jaw as his tongue tangles with yours once again. It's frantic as are his deep thrusts and you are pretty sure he will break the bed soon – the headboard hitting the wall with every pass of his hips. You admire how fucking lost in you he looks – slack-jawed and dazed. You tug on his hair once more and the reaction is almost instant – his hips faltering for a moment seemingly losing his rhythm.
“Come on, Javi. I want you to look at me when you cum.” Your requests makes him shut his eyes before he shudders and opens them – your name a broken record when he spills into the condom. You scratch him on the back of his head – your movements slow and languid. He pulls out of you after a moment – when he catches his breath and his heartbeat evens out – even though when he is with you it seems impossible.
The aftercare is soft and sweet as he lays on his back and pulls you close to him – stroking your spine and kissing the top of your head.
“Do you want me to leave?” He pulls you tighter against him after you ask him that and he grips your chin so you look at him.
“Never again, Bee. I want you right here with me.” You sigh in contentment and give him a sweet kiss.
You are definitely his type, Javier thinks as he feels your breath even out and slowly, he falls asleep too – you in his arms – and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
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The Devil And An Angel
Wanda X Natasha X Reader 18+
Summary: During one of Tony's parties, both of your girlfriends tease you and try to tempt you into giving into your sinful desires.
Warnings/Tags: Smut 18+ MDNI, Threesome, Strap-ons, Fingering, Oral sex, Double Penetration, Dirty talk, Praise, Squirting, Dom Natasha/Switch Wanda/Switch Reader, Brief Aftercare.
General Masterlist
“Are you really not going to tell me?” you complain, looking between both your girlfriends with a small pout.
“You’ll find out soon enough Kotenok,” Natasha coos, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. You smiled at the action before remembering how you were supposed to be acting grumpy.
“But why can’t I know now?” they laugh at how eager you are to find out what they are going to wear. Tony had decided to throw a party tonight, every couple/relationship must dress up as something together to change it up a bit and have some fun. The problem was, your two girlfriends were reluctant to tell you what they were dressing up as and assured you that anything you wore would be fine.
“Because it’s a surprise,” Wanda says while wrapping her arms around your middle and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Now go and get ready and we’ll meet you at the party.” Grumbling, you left to go and get ready, imagining what they could have installed for you.
When you arrived at the party you had to give Tony his dues, the party looked amazing and it was a brilliant idea to have people dress up. You looked around trying to figure out what people were meant to be, smiling at how much effort everyone had put in. Steve and Bucky had dressed up as people from the 1940s, their old fashioned clothing probably from their youth. Peter and MJ were dressed as mad scientists, Peter fluffing his hair up to look crazy and constantly checking to see if it was alright, much to MJ’s amusement. Clint looked so done with the whole party despite it just starting, dressed up in a Santa costume that was from when he pretended to be the jolly man at Christmas for his children. Laura wore an elf hat and a simple dress that suited her, but she was too busy trying not to laugh at her husband. Tony and Pepper just looked incredible, their theme most likely meant to scream money and wealth.
Suddenly, you felt two people lean on your shoulders, their different perfumes invading your senses as you turned to look at them. On your left was Natasha who was dressed in a tight red dress that left little to the imagination, devil horns sticking out of her fiery red hair, black, smokey eyeshadow making her eyes pop and a sinister smirk on her face. Wanda was on your right, dressed in a white, flowy dress with a gold halo in her hair, a soft look on her face compared to Natasha. You chuckled at them, dressed as a Devil and an Angel on each of your shoulders.
“You both look beautiful,” the compliment causes them both to smile at you, the two of them having a turn to compliment your choice of clothing as well. You leaned in to give Wanda a kiss, innocent and sweet, and then turned to Natasha who had no shame in sliding her tongue into your mouth, a small moan escaping you at the action.
“Don’t be tempted by her,” Wanda whispered in your ear, her voice soft while her arm interlocked with yours. “Or there will be no reward later.” You stifled the noise that wanted to come out and just watched as Natasha winked at you before walking off.
Wanda and yourself followed behind and you had to try your hardest to not drift your gaze lower on Natasha’s back. The three of you ended up on a sofa talking with Steve and Bucky, them rambling on about a story from their past while you three nodded along. You were paying attention until Natasha moved closer, her mouth on your ear as her breath tickled the side of your face.
“Do you know how hard I want to fuck you right now?” she purred quietly, “Have you trembling with pleasure as I thrust my fingers deep inside you? Or even better, my cock.” You groan at her words, low enough that no one other than Natasha could hear, making her smirk in victory as she works you up. Her hand grips your thigh, squeezing the skin and moving up higher teasingly before drifting down to rest on your knee. “I could have you coming in my mouth right now in that bathroom,” her gaze travels to the ladies room on the other side of the room, your eyes following as they darken with lust. “Come on, let's have some fun,” she bites down on your ear while no one looks before pulling away and giving you a predatory look that sends another wave of arousal through you, your panties definitely soaked as you clench your thighs together.
After a few moments, Natasha excuses herself to the toilets, her eyes staying trained on you as she gets up and starts to walk away. You remember Wanda’s earlier words and reluctantly stay still in your seat. You know this is a test, Natasha staying true to her outfit and trying to get you to sin with her, give into her temptation and end up with a punishment equivalent to hell. That however doesn’t make it any easier as you suffer with the results of her dirty words and teasing.
You don’t realise that Steve and Bucky had left, leaving you alone with Wanda as Natasha waits out in the bathroom to see if you crack. Her touches are far more innocent that Natasha’s, her hands interlocking with yours, her thumb running over the back of your hand.
“You’re being such a good girl,” she whispers, the praise making you whine slightly. “I bet you’re so wet for us both right now,” your eyes widen at her words, not expecting her to be in on the teasing.
“I thought angels were supposed to be innocent and pure,” you say, hoping she’d stop the torment. She just lets out a low chuckle and smiles at you, making you nervous for what else was to come.
“The devil was an angel once,” she comments, her voice raspy and sultry, “Who says we can’t be tempted as well.” Her hand goes to your thigh, scratching through your clothing and even going as far as your inner thigh near your core to draw invisible patterns. Your breathing hitches and you bite your lip to stop yourself from saying anything.
Soon Natasha returns, having given up waiting for you, and takes her seat to your left again. She notices the prominent blush on your cheeks and how your hand is gripping the cushion of the sofa, knuckles almost turning white.
“So Y/n,” Natasha starts, drawing your attention away from Wanda’s hand on your leg, “Are you enjoying the party?” you go to answer her question but your breathing stops when your thoughts change.
You’re tied to the bed while Natasha roughly kisses your lips, pulling out moan after moan as her tongue explores the roof of your mouth. Her hands grope at your chest, pinching and pulling at your nipples causing sighs to leave your lips. Wanda was in between your thighs, looking up at you with an innocent look, and licked a stripe up your core, her tongue gathering the wetness that was dripping out of you.
“It’s rude to ignore people,” the spy moves closer to you, her chest pressed up against your shoulder as she talks into your ear. “I’ll ask you one more time,” You look over to Wanda who has a sly grin on her face before Natasha grabs your attention again by sucking on your neck, “Are you enjoying the party?”
“Yes,” is all you could manage out in a breathless whisper, mind clouded with arousal and desire as both women relentlessly tease you.
“Are you sure?” Wanda whispers in your other ear, the hand that was teasing your inner thighs moving to drag her fingers over your clothed pussy under your dress, the fabric soaked with your arousal. “Because I'm sure there are more exciting things we could be doing,” you stifle a moan when she starts to circle your clit through your panties and move your hand to sit on top of hers.
“I just want to be good,” your whine has them both grinning, “I’ll do anything you want me to, just please let me be good for you.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, Natasha drags you away towards the elevator to get to your shared apartment, Wanda quickly on your tail.
Once you reach the bedroom, Natasha immediately straddles you on the bed, her mouth descending onto yours as she roughly kisses you and slips her tongue into your mouth. The whole thing is hot, her hands tugging your hair to pull moans out of you, her tongue tracing the roof of your mouth while her hips grind down harshly onto yours as she uses you for her own pleasure for the moment. Instinctively, your hands go to her waist, guiding her movements as she ruts against you.
“Fuck,” she rasps out as you both pull away breathless, Wanda unzipping the spy’s dress as she climbs off your lap and passionately kisses the witch. You watch in awe as their tongues fight for dominance, hands roaming freely across each other's body as they undress each other. You can’t move, frozen on the spot as bare skin is exposed to you, Natasha’s red dress dropping to the floor while Wanda’s is pulled over her head and discarded carelessly somewhere. They wear lingerie matching their outfits, Natasha wearing a black and red lace set while Wanda has a gold and white one on.
“Enjoying the show?” Wanda teases, swaying her hips as they both crawl onto the bed to join you. Her lips crash to yours, nothing innocent about her now as her hands rid you of your clothes. Natasha is now behind you, her chest pressing into your back while she bites at your neck, littering you with purple and red marks and sighing wantonly against your ear to make you shudder. Wanda’s hands cup your breasts unceremoniously as you revel in the pleasure, her running her fingers over your hardened nipples and tugging playfully. You lean your head back onto Natasha who moves to nibble on your ear, her hand coming up to rest on your throat, a pitiful moan escaping you.
“Don’t worry Kotenok,” She purrs, “You’ll get what you want soon.” You can feel her smirking into your skin as your hips buck at the contact of her knee slotting between your legs. “But first Wanda has a question, Don’t you Wands?” Her green eyes snap over to the witch who pulls back from the sloppy kiss with you, her cheeks flushed and eyes darkening.
“How do you feel about you and Nat fucking me at the same time?” she whispers against your lips and your eyes widen at the question.
“Fuck that would be hot,” you sigh out, imagining Wanda in between you and the spy as you pound into her from both sides. “Are you sure you want that?” She bites her lip at you sultrily and nods her head before moving forwards to press her lips back to yours.
“On your back baby,” she husks out between kisses and you move away from them both to lay on your back near the top of the bed. Wanda kisses down your body, licking over the marks Natasha made soothingly before ghosting her hot breath over your nipples and then kissing your inner thighs that were slick with your desire for them. “I’m going to give you your reward for being so good for us,” Her breath fans over your core, your hips bucking at the feeling which causes her to place a strong hand on your hip to keep you still. She licks through your folds, her tongue swirling around your clit while her free hand moves to be near your entrance. Her fingers gather your wetness before she thrusts two fingers straight into you, your back arching off the bed as you let out a guttural moan. Her mouth sucks at your clit while she pumps her fingers into you, your hands fisting in her hair as she eats you out
Moans pour out of your mouth when she curls her fingers and you almost scream when you feel her moan into you loudly. Your eyes wander away from the brunette between your thighs and to the redhead behind her. You hear a click of a bottle and assume she’s used some lube to ease one of her fingers into Wanda’s tight hole and let her get used to the feeling and stretch. Wanda’s face moves to kiss at your thigh for a moment, trying to get used to the feeling of something in her ass before continuing to reward you. You softly stroke her hair and let her take her time and watch as Natasha moves to have Wanda sit on her face, her finger slowly stretching her tight hole out.
The room then fills with your moans and Wanda’s muffled ones as Natasha brings her close to coming and manages to work her up to having three fingers pumping in and out of her ass. Your legs tighten around Wanda’s face as you come with a scream, body spasming with pleasure as you ride out your high grinding against the witches mouth. She follows soon after, clenching around Natasha’s fingers and tongue as she screams into you, biting down on your inner thigh to muffle the scream. The feeling was painful but also pleasurable and you’re certain you're going to have a dark mark there later on.
Natasha moves from under her, not wanting to overstimulate her, and carefully pulls her fingers out. You pull Wanda up your body, peppering kisses over her face as she tries to steady her breathing.
“You did so well for us,” you praise, still breathless from your own mind blowing orgasm as you talk to her. She hums in response and slowly kisses you, the taste of yourself on her tongue making you moan into her mouth. “Are you still up for us both?” you whisper against her lips, your hands stroking her back as she presses her body weight onto you.
“Yeah,” she murmurs back and you see Natasha move to get the strap ons before lubing them both up so it doesn't hurt her.
“Remember your safewords?” Natasha asks while Wanda gets off you so you can put the harness on.
“Green for ok, Yellow for slow down and Red for Stop,” Natasha smiles at Wanda softly then pecks her lips and helps guide her to hover above your plastic cock. Your hands move the tip of the toy to rub against her clit teasing before letting her sink down onto it. She moans lewdly as her hips meet yours and slowly starts to rock back and forth. She braces her arms next to your head and moans into a kiss as you thrust up into her gently, her hips starting a rhythm with yours.
Natasha soon has her harness on and moves to kneel behind Wanda while her hands slow her movements down. You whisper comforting words to the brunette, checking if she’s still ok by asking her for a colour, as Natasha slowly pushes the head of the toy into her ass, a loud gasp leaving the witch as she screws her eyes shut. You’re both patient as you let Wanda adjust to the toy, Natasha soon having the whole toy inside her and letting the pain fade to pleasure.
Experimentally, Wanda moves forwards slightly then pushes back, a low groan escaping her as she enjoys the feeling of Natasha and yourself deep inside her. Natasha starts a gentle pace of thrusting in and out of her while you swallow her moans with your mouth and thrust your hips up into her. Soon Wanda starts to move in time with you both, as soon as you pull out, Natasha pushes in and vice versa and her moans become louder.
“Fuck,” she moves to lean backwards against Natasha, who wraps a firm hand around her middle to keep her upright, while your hand moves to circle her clit. “Harder,” She sighs out, the two of you listening and increasing the force at which you pump your hips into her. “Faster,” the sound of skin slapping echoes around the room as you pound into her from underneath and Natasha snaps her hips against her. Wanda’s breasts bounce with each thrust and her legs start to shake as she nears her orgasm. “Please, I’m so close, don't stop,” begs tumble out her mouth as her hips move frantically between the two of you.
With a loud scream, liquid gushes out of her around your cock as she comes, her hips stuttering as her hands grip behind her onto Natasha to stop her body from collapsing forwards. You both slow down your thrusts as she rides out her high, her legs spasming around you while her hands fall off the spy to rest on your chest while she pants for breath. Natasha kisses along her neck and back while she calms down and when you see her wince at the feeling of being so full, you motion for Natasha to slowly pull out. She whines at the motion and soon moves off your lap to lay on the bed next to you.
You quickly discard the harness while Natasha moves to the bathroom to start a bath for you three and pull the witch close to you to murmur praise to her. Her body naturally moves towards you, her face tucked into your neck as she tries to fall asleep, her body exhausted from coming so hard. When Natasha returns, you carry her to the bath and gently lower her in and climb in behind her so she can lean back into your embrace. Natasha also climbs in, helping clean Wanda off and start her aftercare before quickly washing herself from any sweat.
“Are you ready for bed milaya?” Natasha murmurs into the witch’s hair after placing a soft kiss. She nodded back sleepily and the spy helped her dry off before taking her to bed. You quickly drain the tub and dry off yourself before joining them in bed. Wanda curls her body into Natasha but when she feels your presence next to her, she moves her hand back in search of yours and she places it around her middle. You smile at her drowsy actions and kiss them both goodnight before drifting off to sleep.
#wanda maximoff#wanda x reader#wanda fanfic#wanda x you#marvel fanfiction#eventual smut#mommy wanda#wanda maximoff x female reader#wanda maximoff fanfiction#smut#natasha#natasha romanoff#natasha romanov#natasha x reader#wanda x natasha#wandanat#scarlet witch#natasha romanoff x reader#wandanat x reader#wanda maximoff x reader#threes0me#gxg smut#soft smut#rough smut#marvel smut
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“Something you wanted.”
Eddie Munson x female reader
Summary: you show up to Eddie and Wayne’s with gifts.
Warnings: language, very soft eddie, eddie doesn’t know how to react to presents, some insecurities on his behalf, new relationship with him and the reader. i hope everyone had a great christmas!!<3 okay and also i’m not going to do my taglist anymore because that’s a pain in the ass so sorry for my laziness!!
“Merry Christmas!” You beamed, lugging in bags of christmas presents in your arms, huffing a breath as you tried to cram yourself in the door.
“Uh- babe,” Eddie helped usher you through the door, eyeing your skeptically. “Why do you look like Santa Clause?”
You chuckled as you dropped your gifts to the floor, face red from the cold. “I look like mrs. clause, thank you very much. You like my skirt?” You twirled your red and white skirt, matched with a red sweater and a santa hat on your head.
“What are you doing here?” He started patting the snow off your shoulders, closing the door to his home. “Thought you’d weren’t coming over till tomorrow.”
“Well tomorrow won’t be christmas anymore!” You smiled, looking around the trailer. “Is Wayne here?”
Eddie gave you another weird look before turning. “Old man! Y/n’s here!” When he looked back you were on the ground shuffling through your gift backs.
“What are those for?”
You paused, looking up at him to give a funny look. “What do you think they’re for? They’re for you guys, dummy! Christmas presents!”
“All of these?!” His eyes widened. “Y/n- no way, you shouldn’t have.”
“I know that.” You chuckled, taking them out one by one at his feet. “But I wanted too.”
“Why is Santa in our living room?” Wayne announced himself, standing in the kitchen with a raised brow.
“Merry Christmas, Wayne!” You waved, sparking off your pearly teeth. “You guys go sit down so I can pass these out!”
Eddie looked to his guardian with confused eyes, not sure what to do. Wayne muttered under his breath as he made his way to the couch, nodding for Eddie to sit down.
“Okay, so I have these labeled.” You crawled over to their feet with two gifts in hand. “Read what it says.” You sat them in their lap.
Eddie was looking at it like it was a ticking time bomb, while Wayne fished out his reading glasses. “Something you need.” His voice came out in a deep hum.
“Are we supposed to open it?” Eddie said confused.
Wayne rolled his eyes as you laughed. “Yeah, Eddie, open it!”
He nodded before both of them started to tear open the paper, and you noticed how Eddie kept looking at you, then to the other gifts you had behind you.
“Underwear?” Eddie raised a brow, holding up a five back of boxers.
“Oh, thank god,” Wayne exhaled. “You’ve been living in those blue checkered ones for three years now.”
“I have not!” Eddie burned red, straightening. “Quit talking, old man, and open you’re shit.”
“Hey, I’m the one who does your laundry, boy, I outta know.”
You giggled behind your teeth, watching as Eddie felt the fabric at the opening, giving you an awkward smile.
“Batteries?” Wayne said skeptically.
“Uh-huh!” You nodded. “Because the last time I was over you were bitching about your flashlight dying with those old batteries, so know you don’t have to bitch!”
“Thank god.” Eddie praised. “Say, thank you, old man.”
Wayne gave his nephew a glare before giving you a grateful nod. “Thanks, kid.”
“You’re welcome.” You nodded back. “Okay, next!” You reached behind you to grab two other gifts, making their jaw drop.
“Y/n, you didn’t have to do all of this.” Eddie furrowed his brows as you placed another gift in his lap. “We don’t need-”
“Something to read.” Wayne read the label on the red paper before tearing it open.
Eddie hurried to catch up.
“Hey, nice,” Wayne chuckled. “Peanuts comics.” He showed to Eddie. Wayne liked to read the comics in the paper before work, especially peanuts and Garfield. “Thanks, doll.”
“No fucking way.” Eddie cursed, revealing a thick, brown book. “You did not.” His eyes were wide as saucers. “Y/n, this is-”
“Not as expensive as you think.” You finished for him, grabbing his calf. “Just look inside, it’s actually pretty cool!”
It was a collectors edition version of The Fellowship of the Ring, maps on the inside, facts of lore and inspiration from the author. Eddie had seen it once in a bookstore in Indianapolis. That was four months ago.
“Pretty cool?” Eddie’s voice rose an octave. “Babe, this is amazing.” He looked over at Wayne, holding up his book as the man smiled at him. “Look away, old man.” Eddie flung his hand toward Wayne as he leaned down to give you a peck on the lips. “Thank you so much.” Eddie allowed himself to smile. “Really, thanks a lot. This is epic.”
You blushed, your heart warming at his own happiness. “Okay last one.” You placed two other gifts in their lap as wrapping paper laid down at their feet.
“Something you wanted.” Eddie read this time, giving you a smile.
Wayne tore into his quickly, making you laugh as he revealed his present. “Now, just how and the hell did you know I wanted this?” Wayne chuckled, holding out his new leather wallet. It was expensive, but they didn’t need to know that.
“I specifically heard you say damn wallet one day when the zipper was stuck.” You smirked, patting his knee.
“New chains!” Eddie squealed that time, nearly jumping in his seat. “Holy shit, thank you!”
You smiled widely, then over to Wayne who looked very proud. “You’re welcome, Ed’s.”
“These will look perfect on my black jeans, don’t you think?” He asked, taking them out of the package.
“Without a doubt.” You tossed off your santa hat, getting hot. “Look right sexy.”
And then Eddie got quiet. Very quiet. Both you and Wayne noticed it, but he was the first to say something. “You okay, bud?”
He nodded, but didn’t say anything, keeping his head down. You tried to find his eyes but couldn’t, chewing on your lip nervously. He had seemed to like everything.
Wayne mentioned something about going out for a smoke, stepping over the wrapping paper and thanking you once more for the gifts.
“Eddie, what’s wrong?” You grabbed his ankle. “You’re quiet all of a sudden.”
Your heart sank when you saw he was crying. “Hey,” you said gently, moving to sit beside him on the couch. “Eddie, what’s wrong? I saved the receipts if you want to exchange them.”
“Exchange them?” Eddie looked at you, eyes tearful and red. “No, y/n, it isn’t that. It’s just…”
This wasn’t normal for him. Wayne and him would give each other something small sure, but someone coming into their home with gifts wasn’t normal. Someone thinking of them for a change wasn’t normal. You should of realized, but it wasn’t your fault. This was your first christmas with him.
“Hey,” You grabbed his red cheeks. “You deserve every little bit of this and more, you hear me?” You wiped his tears with your thumbs. “You’re my boyfriend and I love you. I wanted to do this.”
“I’m sorry,” He shook his head shamefully. “I just..well, I’m not very good at this stuff. I have something for you too, but it’s not near as good as all of this.”
“You have nothing to apologize for, baby.” You shook your head. “That’s not what this is about. I just want you to know how much I care about you, is all. That’s what this time of year is for. Both you and Wayne deserve it.”
Eddie allowed himself to shed one more tear before he buried his face under your chin, pressing his nose against your collar bone. “I love you so much. I don’t deserve you.”
“Yes, you do.” You wrapped your arms around him, kissing his ear. “Both of you deserve this.”
You could feel his tears slide down your skin, and you held him tightly close, knowing Wayne was outside probably close to freezing to death. When you heard his sniffled stop, you peaked down at him with a smile. “Should we go check on your uncle? He’s probably an ice block by now.”
Eddie chuckled and sniffled, using his sleeve to wipe his tears. “Yeah, let’s go check on the old man.”
#eddie munson#eddie munson fluff#soft eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson imagines#eddie stranger things#eddie blurb#eddie munson oneshot#eddie munson x you#christmas eddie munson#stranger things#stranger things season four#joseph quinn#eddie munson one shot#eddie munson headcanons
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Imperfections
Leon Kennedy x female reader
Fluffy festive nonsense
Leon squints at the small piece of paper, trying to decipher the name upon it. It’s not the handwriting he’s struggling with, more the fact he probably does need reading glasses and he hates to admit it. He looks around, making sure no-one is looking in his direction and holds it aloft, trying to find the perfect spot where the blurry squiggles will finally transform into a name.
A name he knows all too well, it turns out.
Yours.
You’ve been working for the department just shy of a year – a new recruit in February – and had been partnered with him on a fair few missions. He’d underestimated you at first, mistakeably deemed you too sweet a thing to be wrapped up in this sort of business, but you’d shown him your mettle from the off and especially when things had got dicey – held your own, got the job done, saved his ass a couple of times and all usually with that beautiful smile on your face.
God, Kennedy, he chides himself, smitten or what?
He folds up the slip of paper, sticks it in his wallet for safe-keeping and his mind begins to whirl - what in the hell is he going to get you?
Secret Santa at the DSO – a bit of holiday nonsense put forward as a suggestion to ‘boost morale’ and apparently the President had loved it, has thrown together a whole Holiday Mixer around having the exchange. Everyone working here isn’t depressed due to a lack of Christmas spirit, more the state of the world itself and the dark depths they’re forced to confront…
But, hey, Leon S Kennedy will do as he’s told as far as the President’s concerned, and so he’d stuck his hand in the Santa hat when it had been thrust in his direction, full of his colleagues’ names.
There’s rules – has to be in government-officiated fun – gifts to be exchanged at the Holiday Mixer in a week’s time and, to try and avoid an influx of gift cards and novelty socks, it must include a handmade element, with a $25 limit.
“So,” you plonk yourself down on his desk - right on a pile of manilla folders that were left there earlier for his upcoming briefing and he’d yet to tackle - and lean in, “who’d you get?”
He sweeps his hair out of his eyes and sits back a little in his chair to take you all in. “Uh-uh, that’s against the rules.”
You roll your eyes at that. “And since when has Leon Kennedy been a stickler for the rules?”
“I just don’t wanna be on Santa’s naughty list.”
“Fine.” You pout, crossing your arms in fake annoyance. “I won’t tell you who I got either.”
“Good, cos I don’t remember asking... And don't make an old man joke."
“Wasn't gonna." He gives you a look and you can't help but smile. "Okay, but seriously - I get the handmade rule, I do,” you shuffle back a little more on his desk, making yourself comfortable as you get to your point, “but what I don’t get is why it’s mandatory to participate in the whole thing.”
“It’s not really mandatory. We’re a small operation – you don’t participate, you’ll show up on the President’s radar for not being a team player. You know he’s all about that.”
“Well, make us do a team building exercise - build a bridge out of newspaper, do trust falls or something besides try and be crafty.”
Leon scoffs. “I’m not doing a trust fall with you – not after last time.”
You open your mouth to reply – that was most definitely not meant to be a trust fall, Leon had just straight up fell - when Hunnigan pops her head around the cubicle, not even surprised to see you sitting on his desk, and gives the two of you a polite smile.
“Kennedy – intel briefing set for 1200. You prepped?”
“Sure am.”
Hunnigan eyes the pile of folders she clearly remembered placing on his desk first thing this morning, the exact ones which are nestled underneath your thighs.
“Uh-huh… Conference room seven. See you there.” She turns on her heels and departs, and you feel Leon’s hand ghost your thigh.
You look down, a little startled – sure there’s been flirtatious touches here and there, a time where you would’ve bet that month’s pay check that he was gonna kiss you after a particularly close call but swerved for your cheek at the last moment – and realise he’s tugging at the corner of a folder.
“Whilst I won’t deny that you’re an awful pretty paperweight, mind if I get back to work now?”
You slide off – managing not to take the folders down with you - and mock a salute. “Yes, sir.”
--
The briefing is dull, which should be a good thing, really. No current BOW threats on the radar, though the threat level remains at orange. Leon can’t remember the last time they lowered it to yellow, so it seems a pointless system to him but he still throws in his two cents when called upon. He’s got another few weeks of desk duty to get through after Alcatraz after his medical - knows he’s not getting any younger and that’s why it’s taking him a little longer to recover after quite the beating.
Dismissed from the briefing, Leon swings by your desk on the way back to his, only to feel a little silly when he’s disappointed at the lack of you at it. There’s a shoebox sat on your desk though, lid taped on with a few rounds of parcel tape, but overall it looks a more than just a little worse for wear - crumpled corners and scuff marks all over the cardboard.
“Snooping, Kennedy?”
He can’t help the smile when you come to his side, your laptop tucked under your arm – must’ve had a meeting of your own. He holds up his mug, waving it from side to side in demonstration.
“Was gonna see if you wanted a coffee, actually. That package looks a little suspect to get through the security check, right?”
You place your laptop down beside it and frown, before reading the return address. “Oh, no. It’s just some things that I asked my ex to send on. I forgot them in the move, only realized when I went to put my tree up last week…”
You trail off as you move the box towards you ever so slightly and there’s a horrible clinking sound that makes your stomach sink.
You grab a biro, jamming it through the tape lined around the edge as a make-shift knife and tentatively pull off the lid, bracing yourself for what you might discover within. Whilst you had safely stored them away in layers of bubble wrap, each in its own bo, he seems to have dumped them all out into the shoe box, one layer of bubble wrap on the bottom, another on top and they’ve obviously cracked together in transit, resulting in the shattered mess before you.
“Shit.” He comments, softly, watching as you pick up shards. “What are they?”
“My grandmother’s baubles.” Your voice goes flat as you pick up pieces of what once were precious memories and his heart aches. “She was a really talented artist before the arthritis got bad… Used to paint these and sell them at Christmas fairs.”
He’s silent as you continue picking through the pieces. There’s one that seems mostly intact, a smaller one but after further investigation there’s a big chunk missing from the side and you drop it back down in the box in defeat.
Leon lays his hand on your shoulder then, seeing how you almost deflate in front of his very eyes, and he hopes to give you a reassuring squeeze – to let you know he’s here, he's always here for you, even if he’s not going to say it aloud.
“I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine.” But he knows it’s not by how tight your voice is. You’ve never got emotional in front of him before, not even when you’d been injured had you let that stupid, gorgeous smile falter. “I… I have to head out. I’ll see you later.”
You place the lid back on the shoebox and shove it off the desk. It lands in the waste basket with another awful sound of broken ceramic.
“Whoa, wait, don’t you wan-?” He begins to protest but you shrug his hand off your shoulder, shaking your head and now keeping your eyes downcast.
“Sorry, I really have to go.” He swears you just about jog out of his sight, no real destination in mind.
Leon doesn’t see you the rest of the day, though he swings by your desk a few more times when he gets up to stretch his legs. The maintenance team will be in later – dispose of the shredded paperwork, wipe down surfaces empty the waste baskets… so he doesn’t think twice when he picks up the shoebox as he leaves, holding it tightly in the crook of his arm as if it were the broken pieces of your heart.
--
Later that evening after dinner, he sits on his sofa, changed into his sweats rather than stuffy shirt and suit trousers, a soda on the table in a heavy-bottomed glass – doesn’t drink anymore, isn’t worth it, but he still likes the weight of a good glass in his hand – with his laptop perched on his knees.
The cursor blinks in place before he slowly types in the search bar.
How to fix a broken ceramic bauble.
He’s good with his hands from weapons maintenance, can handle delicate stuff, so why couldn’t he glue some bits of ceramic back together into a sphere?
He scrolls down the search results – various how-to articles and videos. He reads through a few, learns that it can depend on such factors of where the break occurred, if it’s clean break or not, how thick the ceramic is and, after all that, there’s the danger it could look like a kid put it together for their mom at kindergarten with a pot of PVA glue and got bored halfway through.
He’s not put off, though, as he continues his scroll until something bright and gold catches his eye…
Kintsugi?
Huh.
Sounds… promising.
--
He does a test first. Practice makes perfect, and he’s determined he will make them as close to perfect again as he can… once he’s sure he’s got the hang of it. He buys a box of six ceramic baubles from a nearby department store, whacks one off the table edge gently until it shatters into reasonable-sized pieces, then sets about setting it back together with the kit he’d bought online – paid for express next-day delivery as well, no time to sit and wait around for 3-5 working days, longer in the Christmas build-up.
You’d not mentioned the baubles the next day in the office or how you’d rushed off, just came and sat on his desk with a coffee, had the usual back and forth banter but he can tell you’re a little flat, the light isn’t quite reaching your eyes as it once was and he hates it. You’d been excited for Christmas – even brought in a Christmas mug on the 1st of December – but it’s all been extinguished, now a DSO-logo stamped black mug in your hands.
It takes him the entire box over the next few evenings until he’s confident enough to tackle one of your prized possessions. Each bauble is unique – swirling patterns of pastel colours on all-white ceramic, but he treats the pieces like a puzzle as he slowly divides the piles into category of each bauble – four in total – and gently works out which piece belongs to which. There are bits that aren’t going to be a clean seam but he’s prepared for this in his practice rounds, still a little shake in his hand as he finally puts two and two together.
He likes the meaning behind the practice - embracing imperfections, not trying to hide the cracks or broken bits, but instead highlighting it, making it a feature with bright and beautiful gold. Lord knows he isn’t perfect, far from it, and he will never be the man he was before Raccoon City. A few years ago, when he was at his darkest, he would’ve described himself as beyond repair – too smashed up to ever be whole again.
Slowly but surely, he’s began to piece himself back together, embracing the fact that whilst he’s not quite whole and might never be, held together by his friends, his will and some glue and now your presence in his life giving him a little bit of sparkle.
He shakes his head, leans forward and switches off the made-for-TV Christmas movie.
--
Friday evening is here before he knows it and, frustratingly, an intel mission he’s on runs a little long – gets caught up in traffic. He needs to swing by his apartment to pick up your gift and needs to get changed while he’s at it – the dress code quite clear.
He enters the hotel ball room in a shirt, suit jacket and trousers, sans tie, an over an hour and a bit late, carrying the gift bag as carefully as he would a baby or a bomb. The mixer already seems to be in full swing - there’s half a dozen round tables, discarded wrapping paper scattered across the tops of them as well as empty champagne glasses and he realizes he must’ve missed the gift exchange.
“There you are! I thought you were a no-show.” You tease, appearing at his side a little too quick to not have been waiting for him. You’re looking beautiful in your black cocktail dress, the one that hugs all the right places and your hair half up and half down, held in place with a red bow.
“Duty called. Did I miss the exchange?”
“Eh, kinda. It wasn’t a whole big thing. The President’s not coming – double booked himself, so everyone’s just been awkwardly exchanging gifts and downing more and more free drink.”
He tugs at the ribbon hanging down off your shoulder ever so gently.
“Well, you certainly look as pretty as a present. Please tell me you didn’t panic and gift yourself…”
You ignore him, loop your arm through his instead and guide him over to an empty table – there’s a large queue at the open bar and hopefully a few more minutes of privacy before making endless small talk – and encourage him to take a seat. As he does, you crouch besides another chair and fish for something underneath, pulling out a red and gold gift bag, an embarrassed smile as you hold it out to him.
“Merry Christmas, from your Secret Santa.”
He raises an eyebrow but still accepts the bag, placing it on the table. “You’re kidding.”
“No. Why?”
“You’re my Secret Santa?”
“Can you at least hold in the disappointment until after you open it?” You pout.
“No, I mean… I got you. We got each other.”
“What? That’s… weird.” You sit down heavily in the chair, looking a bit bemused. “What’s the statistics on that even happening?”
“Don’t tell me you’re going to demand a re-count.” He rolls his eyes and holds out his own gift bag. “Ladies first.”
You smile, brushing your fingers with his as you take it, before placing the gift bag down on the table and see four small cardboard boxes nestled within. You take out the first one and unfold the tabs, carefully, before removing the piece of red tissue paper he’d nestled on top.
What lies below it makes your heart stop.
It’s your grandmother’s baubles, or one of them, now held back in one piece and held together with threads of beautiful gold.
You look at him and then back down at the bauble.
“Is this…?”
“Yeah.”
“Leon, I…”
He sees the tears in your eyes as you take out the remaining boxes with a shaking hand, lining them up on the table and revealing each one in turn.
“I hope they aren’t an insult to your grandmother’s memory.” He blurts out after sitting in silence, unsure of what to make of yours. “They were just about to be tossed and so I took them, did some research on repair techniques and, well…”
“Did you do this?” There it is – the smile, the real smile that lights up your eyes.
“What, you think this old dog can’t learn new tricks? Everything’s on the internet these days.” He shrugs off – he won’t tell you the hours he spent, the headaches he got from squinting as he pieced parts together. Hell, he’d do it all again if he had to.
“Thank you. They’re beautiful. I… I can’t believe you did this for me. I… I just, I mean…”
He places a hand on your knee, gives you a soft smile.
“There’s a lot I’d do for you, you know, if you’d let me.”
There’s a moment as your eyes meet that you feel perhaps your cheeks have gone as red as the bow on top of your head and quickly try to deflect, nodding your head at his unopened gift bag.
“You should’ve let me go first - this is going to be such a disappointment in comparison.”
Leon gives your knee a squeeze before he peers into this gift bag, digging out a small gift box. He places it down on the table and tugs off the lid to find there’s a beautiful ridged glass nestled in red tissue paper, heavy-bottomed – you know his preference all right - but there’s something within the glass too. A mass of what appears to be red and green yarn, a little loop of black string at the top… He picks it up between two fingers.
“It’s…” He trails off, looking at the colours. “It’s certainly festive.”
“Okay, I can’t knit but I tried and that’s the important thing here, right?”
“No, no, it’s… cute.” He smiles. “And the glass – I love it. Just my style.”
You bite your lip, looking a little flustered and unsure, but he assumes you’re still feeling a little emotional over his present… until you try and yank the yarn from his hands.
“Hey!” He gets to his feet out of instinct of being attacked and clutches whatever it is closely to his chest.
“Look, if you just give me it, I can try some other craft thing. Just I was in a pity party all week and I stayed up all night doing that and it shows.” You get to your feet then, trying to weasel through fingers into his to retrieve it. “I can’t leave you with that, it’s not fair.”
“No, it’s mine.”
You don’t give up your attempt to wrestle it back, though Leon’s grip never falters. “You don’t even know what it’s meant to be!”
“Sure I do. It’s…” He retaliates, whipping it quickly above his head and yours – too high for you to snatch out of his hands despite your heels – and squints once more, comparing it against some of the festive décor in the hall.
“Oh.”
“It’s so dumb.” You begin your protest again, now trying to grab it from above your heads. “I just tho-”
Leon wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you forward firmly against his chest, before he finally drops his other arm and cups your cheek, knitted mistletoe still in his fingers and kisses you firmly on the lips, swallowing down the rest of your sentence. He can’t help but grin as he feels you relax into his embrace, pressing your palm now flat against his chest. He runs his tongue along your bottom lip, poking ever so gently to seek permission and-
“About goddamn time, Kennedy!” The shout of an inebriated agent causes the two of you to pull apart and you feel flustered by both the overdue kiss and what feels like the eyes of the entire DSO on the two of you.
Leon takes it all in his stride though, keeps a warm palm right on your lower back as he smiles and nods at whoever the hell it was that had interrupted, before pressing a sweet, solitary kiss to your cheek.
“Now, seeing as I’ve got this mistletoe, how about we go back to my place and try it out a little more, beautiful?”
---
Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi
Comments, follows, likes and reblogs make my day!
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[Task force 141 + others with Gen z!reader] [pt3]
A/N: Some of these you /may/ have seen on tiktok, that is me who posted them on tiktok. I am green haired bitch so no I didn't steal anything LMAO. I hope these live up to yalls expectations.
The last two of these my lovely friend gave me inspiration for <3 @frogchiro
Warnings: She/her pronouns swearing, age gaps, tiktok memes (like always lmk if I miss something!)
~
You steal Prices hat on numerous occasions bc its a fashion abomination and you refuse to let this man wear it around you. You hide around base as frequently as you can.
Jokes on you though bc he will literally wait til it's your birthday and buy you a matching one and will laugh at your scream of disgust.
Gaz one ups him by gifting you a matching hat as well, putting it on your head as he flicks the brim.
"Thanks Gaz! I love it!
"And not mine?"
"You're on thin ice, old man."
Price gets gifted a set from manscaped by the guys as a gag gift. He uses it for his beard bc he never bothered to look into why everyone was laughing around him.
Price takes your phone when you try and show him memes, squinting hard as fuck like a dad 💀
Soap, if yall have the time off takes you to scottish football games and it's a whole thing. You sitting there while he gets drunk out of his fucking mind, hollering and whooping and you're there trying to sink into your seat.
Chances are someone's gonna shove you and you're gonna trip and fall bc everyone's so amped up and Soap threatens to beat the shit out of them. It's a miracle y'all don't get kicked out 💀
If you have tattoos, Soap is the first one to take a marker set and color them in and adding his own additions. If you were ever to get them actually tattooed, he would tear up and pretend he isn't emotional about it.
"You like me that much Bonnie?"
He would get something of you too, so it evens out. This also makes Ghost in turn get a tattoo for you bc he refuses to be out done and he's just as attached
Neither of them get your call sign or your name, but they get something personal to what each of them associate you with.
The first time you meet Alex, you're across the room doing something that has your focus and didn't realize this is actually your first time meeting him. You ask him for a hand only to look up and see him extend his prosthetic at you with a smile and you scream.
"You asked for a hand but best I can do is a Leg." Price comes running and he sees the scene and rolls his eyes.
Everyone single one of them are the definition of "my girl can wear whatever she wants bc I'll break your jaw." meme btw. You can take care of yourself but you never need to bc they will beat a bitch up.
Laswell invites you constantly to come over and meet with her wife, esp if you don't have a mother figure. She always always tries to come on base to see you and always has a birthday and Christmas present on it's way to you wherever you may be. Her wife loves you to death and they've pretty much adopted you and you cannot escape it, oh well.
Gaz buys you whatever your little heart desires, especially if he's deployed away in a country where they sell exclusives of whatever you enjoy. It's a pain in the fucking ass to try and ship a anime figure to your place from Japan but he's gonna try his best.
Ghost doesn't share his food, or at least it was before you came along. He groans and grumbles about having to feed you but he wouldn't do it if he truly didn't want to. Soap asks and Ghost tells him to fuck off.
If you watch anime, please imagine trying to get everyone in the room and trying to explain who Dabi is. They're all so fucking old they keep thinking you're referring to the elf from Harry Potter and it infuriates you to no end.
Soap and Gaz know better but it's funnier to see you mad.
Being the youngest, they absolutely force you to do the jobs they don't want to. Whether it be cleaning the barracks, to cooking dinner when able, it doesn't matter bc they'll all pull rank on you.
"You're the new kid, get to it then."
"Ghosttttt-"
"Don't Ghost me."
Soap is the kind of motherfucker to play the fifa games and doesn't understand that he's stupid for buying it every single year bc there are no changes oncesoever. He will not listen to you about it and you've given up.
Ghost will see you talk about your etsy list and will ask for your phone, you trust him so of course you hand it over. He hands it back to you and it's just, all purchased. He says nothing while he sips on his tea while you scream at him asking why he did it. He won't tell you but it's because he knows it makes you happy and it'll keep your mood up, giving you a reason to be motivated to get through missions. It's also because he knows that retail therapy is a thing for your generation.
Soap, if you do any, is actually really good at doing your makeup! He knows how to do everything and he refuses to elaborate. (As a kid he'd do his mom's makeup when she went out for dates) he's the one who helps you doll up if you're going undercover.
Ghost, Gaz and Price find you unfunny whenever you make a "wow I wish British people were real." You say it so often and it gets annoying but they also just accept it's a part of life.
Soap personally enjoys the "SCOTLAND FOREVERRRRRRR" meme and will scream it with you. Ghost threatens to cut yalls tongue out.
Other parts can be found under #Kayla writes <3
Taglist:
@devilsfoodcake22 @simon-rileys-princess
@stupid-ninja @milkmily
@lune-la-chanson @tamayakii
@teacupcollector @sweet-as-an-angel
@perilous-pasta @ihatethisappsomuchitpains
@marsbar127xx @baddump
@xncasi @king-cookiex
@palomaxaxaxa @amatchasky @wolfyland07 @diejager
@hailstrum18 @pretty-little-bunny382728 @mzfandom
If you'd like to be tagged, go to my pinned post and comment there :)
#ghost <3#soap <3#price <3#gaz <3#call of duty#call of duty x reader#ghost x reader#soap x reader#gaz x reader#price x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#john soap mactavish x reader#john price x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#gen z! headcanons#kayla writes <3#laswell <3#fem reader
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santa claus is comin' (to town)
summary: the children of Jackson aren't the only ones excited about Santa visiting.
pairing: joel miller x f!reader
word count: 2.5k
warnings: 18+ content; no use of y/n; established relationship; santa kink; unprotected p in v; creampie, lap sex
a/n: banners by @/saradika-graphics
follow @palioomfics & turn on notifs for future updates
Christmas in Jackson was a cheerful time. Allowing its residents some rest and peace in between the daily reminders of survival in a world overgrown by fungus.
There was a tree – a beautiful, tall fir – which they had felled in the surrounding woods and placed in the small town square, lit up with bright, colourful lights and hundreds of handmade decorations from the residents. Mostly made by children, as they learned to work with wood, just small figures like hearts and stars.
The houses and shops were decorated with just as much colour, lighting up everything around them.
And, Jackson even had its very own Santa.
Clad in all red, slightly yellowed fur trims on the sleeves of the shirt, the brim of the hat and on the hems of the pants. A nice, gray beard, and even a hint of Santa’s iconic, large belly.
Joel hadn’t really wanted to do it at first, eyeing the costume they had found on one of their runs with slight concern before he eventually relented. But only after Tommy had nagged at him a bit and Joel’s girl had sweet talked him into it.
The kids went wild for him, screaming and laughing when he walked down the streets, waving at them and laughing back. That really was when he had started to like it, seeing their eyes shine, prodding at the heavy sack slung over his shoulder – as well as his tummy.
To be honest, he had missed this a little, and it reminded him of how much Sarah loved to go down to the mall to tell Santa her Christmas wishes. Back when she was younger. He could still see her perched on Santa’s knee, the widest smile on her face as someone took their photo.
Now, it was him who had the kids whispering their wishes into his ear, just to squeal in delight when he pulled the requested toy or book from the brown sack next to him. A genuine smile on his face when one kid hopped off so the next could hop on.
It made her happy, too. Seeing the old man happy and laughing like this after he had grumbled about not really wanting to do it.
And to be honest, he looked good like this. It had been a fight to keep her hands off of him when he first tried on the costume. The longer beard he had grown out just for this suited him well, too, her mind wandering to how it would feel on the inside of her thighs.
And that belly.
She had teased him about it, asked if he had grown it just for this as well, something he answered with a grumpy look, the corners of his mouth lifting just slightly.
But she loved it, loved him a little bigger and so soft and warm.
All in all, Joel was just unbelievably hot. Even when dressed as Santa.
Especially when dressed as Santa.
So when she had to leave the event early to get dinner going while he stayed behind, she really couldn’t stop thinking about him. About him and that stupid but hot costume, wanting to sit on his lap and having him give her a very special gift as well.
One that only he could give her.
So when he finally came home over an hour later, she quickly made her way out of the kitchen and to the front door, catching him as he wanted to take off his hat.
“Leave it on.” She mumbled against his lips as her arms wrapped around his neck. His beard scratched against her skin and she could feel his arms encircle her waist. “There’s someone else who wants to sit on Santa’s lap.”
The low hum he let out quickly turned into a groan, his broad hands squeezing at her sides and hungrily kissing her back. He still found her love for this costume ridiculous, but Joel couldn’t deny that this whole thing was really hot.
“Wanna lay over Santa’s knee instead?” Joel asked, pushing her back into the living room, towards his favourite armchair.
She laughed, shaking her head when she parted from him for a moment.
“Mhmmm, no. I want to tell Santa my wish, too.”
His eyebrows shot up, a wide grin on his face that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. Now that certainly was something.
Sitting down on the chair, he pulled her down onto his leg by her waist, spreading his legs wide. His cock was already pressing uncomfortably against the fabric of these stupid pants, excited about what she wanted to do.
Right back in his role, his gloved hands dipping beneath the hem of her turtleneck and grabbing her waist. All while she looked at him as innocently as she could, biting her bottom lip.
“Now, tell Santa,” Joel said, his voice dropping a few octaves, “have you been a good girl this year?”
She giggled, nodding her head. Oh, this was already better than what she could have imagined.
“Of course, Santa.” Her voice was sugary sweet when she replied. “I’m always a good girl.”
Joel chuckled, his grip tightening on her waist. His head flooded with images of her being anything but a good girl.
How dare she lie to Santa himself?
“Well, somebody told me that that’s a lie, angel.” He replied, his hands skirting higher over her sides, feeling the warmth of her through the gloves. “You’ve been a naughty girl, and naughty girls don’t get presents from Santa.”
Blood was already rushing in her ears, her eyes dropping down to the tent in his pants. She rubbed her thighs together, needing any kind of friction on her throbbing clit.
One of Joel’s large hands came out from beneath her top and smoothed over her thigh instead, dipping towards the inside before getting dangerously close to where she needed him the most. Hearing her breath hitch at the touch.
“But Santa, please.” She whined, putting on her best puppy eyes in an attempt to sway and convince him that she indee did deserve a present.
“Naughty girls get a very special something from Santa instead.” He whispered, his fingers finally pressing against her clothed pussy, making her moan. “‘Specially ones as naughty as you have been.”
Just rubbing back and forth, unable to feel if he found her clit through the thick gloves, but he was quite sure that he did with how she reacted to it.
“Do you want to know what that is?” He asked, growing impatient with how she whined and ground back into his fingers.
She nodded, biting her bottom lip. She desperately needed to know and she hoped they both were on the same page here.
“Yes, Santa. Please.”
A small growl escaped Joel when he made her stand up, with her back to him, then hooked his fingers into the waistband of the sweatpants she wore before pulling them down. Exposing her ass clad in a lacy thong to him.
When he pulled her back into his lap, his dick ground against her ass, her legs spreading over his own. Joel held her by the hips, his own rutting up into her and making him moan, too.
There was no way he could handle this for long, lifting his hips to shimmy down his pants so his cock was free, hard and rubbing through the wetness that seeped through her underwear. Sliding it back and forth, hearing her soft moans whenever he nudged against her clit through the lace.
“You like what Santa got you?”
She hummed with a frenzied nod, her body so hot compared to the icy coldness outside. Her eyes were glued to his cock, watching the head become shinier with every rock of his hips - fat and angry and just waiting to be swallowed up by her greedy pussy.
“I love it, Santa, oh-” Biting her lip, she watched Joel take off his dark gloves, revealing his tanned, broad hands, the veins on the backs of them protruding. They moved to her panties, his fingers hooking into the lace and pulling them to the side.
Allowing his cock to slide against her bare pussy without any barriers.
This was an even better image, the head vanishing and coming back into view, nudging against her clit and making her squirm in his lap.
“All special, only for the naughtiest girls.” Joel chuckled, his breath hitching in his throat. She felt so nice and wet and he wasn’t even inside of that dripping pussy yet. He could come just like this, sliding through her folds, the image of it so lewd.
But the way she stared at it was almost lewder – wide, dark eyes, looking like she was about to jump off his lap and drop to her knees instead. He swore he could see a trickle of drool on one corner of those pretty lips, glistening in the light.
She couldn’t wait to have it inside of her, to feel the thick length of him spread her pussy open. As much as she liked the view of him like this, she reached for his cock with one hand, raising her hips as much as she could. Prodding against her entrance but not pushing in, she just felt the thick head resting there.
Joel’s chuckle vibrated against her back before she could hear it fall from his mouth, almost sounding like Santa himself – causing a new gush of wetness to release on him.
Fucking Santa on his lap hadn’t been something she thought to turn her on.
“You really are a naughty girl.” He said, close to her ear and shifting his hips. Just lightly feeding her the swollen tip, relishing in the sweet mewls she let out. “Looks like Santa has to punish you, hm?”
She barely listened, so focused on the feeling of him splitting her open as she slowly sank down on his hard cock. Feeling inch by inch enter her, until she was back in his lap again, one of his broad hands holding her hip while the other went to find her nipple beneath her shirt.
“So big, so big, fuck-” Her voice was small, her eyes still focused on where his cock was vanishing inside of her. Feeling impatient as he just kept her there and whining when he pinched her nipple. “Santa, please.”
His hips rocked up into her at the name. It was lewd, naughty, to have her call him Santa. But Joel couldn’t deny that it was fucking hot, too.
“You like Santa’s very special gift for naughty girls?” He asked, thrusting up into her again, his hand on her hip aiding her as she carefully began to move in his lap. Still teasing her nipple, pinching and twisting the little nub in between his thumb and pointer finger.
“Mhmm, yes, I love Santa’s gift.” She moaned, feeling the unbearable need to strip out of her clothes entirely, feeling the heat of his body against hers while her veins were on fire. “‘M gonna be a naughty girl every year, Santa.”
Joel chuckled, the sound strangled by the moan that creeped up his throat when her pussy gripped him tight. Obviously she was enjoying this whole game as much as he did, if not more.
Slowly he rocked up into her faster, watching her face contort in pleasure. But she never took her eyes off of his cock, watching her juices run down the length, frothing with each thrust.
“You already are the naughtiest.” Joel rasped, feeling his balls twitch as her pussy contracted around his cock again. Her moans and mewls became higher in pitch and she seemed to have trouble keeping up the rhythm she had set to match his. “Bouncing on Santa’s lap, creamin’ all over him.”
He accentuated his words with another pinch of her nipple, her back arching deliciously into his touch.
But soon he took away his hand from her breasts to rest on her other hip, helping to lift and slam her down onto his cock over and over as her movements became more erratic.
“Santa has even more gifts for you.” He teased, dancing dangerously close on the edge of his orgasm.
“Yes, yes yes.” She breathed out, whining. The slap of skin on skin echoed through the room, only spurring her on more as she watched him bury himself inside of her aching pussy again and again. “Please, Santa- Give it to me, give it all to me!”
Joel chuckled, his mouth attaching to the skin below her ear and biting down. His hands pushed her down hard just as his hips rocked up – pushing her over the edge she had been dancing on as well.
“Santa- Fuck!”
She gripped him like a vice, her hands finding his as her orgasm seared through her and Joel fucked her through it, his voice becoming darker.
“Like that, like that-” He mumbled, needing just a few more thrusts with how madly she was still pulsing around him. “Fucking naughty girl, strangling Santa’s cock- Oh, shit-”
Joel kept thrusting up as he spilled himself inside of her greedy pussy, filling her up as she writhed in his grip, her hips still erratic on top of him.
He couldn’t stop his cock from slipping out, a noise of protest leaving her which was quickly replaced with a moan as she watched the last few ropes of cum splash over her mound and the bottom of her shirt, the white in stark contrast to the dark fabric.
The view of his still swollen head gliding through her cum-covered pussy sent shivers through her as she came down from her high, hearing Joel’s heavy pants in her ear.
“Ain’t that better than coals in your stocking, darlin’?” He asked in between breaths, chuckling slightly. Watching the mess in between her legs, he couldn’t stop the small groan that creeped up his throat. “Gonna behave for next year?”
She giggled, finally tearing her gaze away from where his cock still rested in between her pussy lips to look at him instead.
“Mhm, I don’t know.” She said, a grin spreading on her face. This whole thing was exactly what she’d needed, and she would fight for him to keep that stupid costume. And for him to put it on again. “Is my present gonna be better than this?”
His warm hands smoothed over her thighs, the fingers slipping under the hem of her shirt as he moved up. Her eyes sparkled with mischief and he knew this wouldn’t be the only time this happened.
“We’ll see.” Joel said before leaning in and kissing her, hearing the soft hum vibrating in her chest. “But before next year… Maybe I have just a little something left in my sack for you.”
A laugh broke out of her, feeling herself clench around nothing as she thought of what else his sack contained for her.
And she would enjoy every second of it.
#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x you#joel miller fic#tlou fanfiction#the last of us fanfiction#tlou fic#the last of us#tlou#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal fandom#pedrostories#my writing
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