#currently keeping an eye on my christmas tree
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At this rate the deadliest villain in doctor who is gonna be christmas trees
#doctor who#dw spoilers#bbc doctor who#dw#doctor who spoilers#dr who#ncuti gatwa#fifteen#davina mccall#jackie tyler#currently keeping an eye on my christmas tree
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MAKING ORNAMENTS | (l.norris)
summary: you and your kids make ornaments, lando is a supportive dad
wordcount: 1.2k words
pairing: dad!landonorris x fem!reader
warnings: kids
notes: I want Lando to take care of my kids 🥺
advent calendar
You sat with Lando and your two kids, Louis and Sofia around the table, craft items in front of you. Louis was three years and little Sofia was just half a year old, she currently lay in Lando’s arms, while he was feeding her. She latched just fine at the beginning, but two weeks ago she started to refuse your breasts and only wanted to be fed by the bottle, it wasn’t your ideal breastfeeding ending, but if she felt more comfortable with the bottle, you weren’t one to deny her that.
Lando stared down at her with a big smile, still in a dream that she was here and he was able to protect her, his little princess. Not that he wasn’t protective over Louis, but he was a little boy, he was headstrong and already stood up for himself. Sofias' hand was wrapped around Lando’s thumb and he left kisses every now and then on her forehead, smelling that baby smell each time, she smiled up at him, clearly happy that he was feeding her.
But back why you were sitting around the table with the family, you wanted to make Christmas ornaments and presents. You found some cute stuff online and wanted to try it out with your kids.
The one you liked the most was an ornament diy, you needed to take a bit of clay and form it into a flat round shape and press the kids‘ hand in the clay, afterwards, you needed to make a little hole at the top, where you could later put a thread through and hang it on the Christmas tree. So you got to work, rolling around the clay with your hand to warm it up a little. You pressed it on the table, that you covered with cling film, so it wouldn’t get dirty, and tried to flatten it, while keeping the round shape.
Louis wasn’t as happy with the idea of having to do crafts, he liked to play with his toy cars or stack his Lego Duplo on top of each other, the only crafty thing he liked was Play-Doh, it was rare that he wanted to draw.
When the clay was flattened enough and you made two of them, you ushered Louis to come to you, he climbed down his kiddy chair and you lifted him on your lap, ”Louis, do you want to press your hand in the clay? We then have your handprint on it.“
He looked at you with big eyes, ”Mama, why?“
Lando chuckled while Sofia was almost finished with her bottle.
”We then can hang it on our tree, as an ornament.“
”Why?“
By now Lando was laughing, Louis had his questioning phase at the moment, everything was questioned and he had to know the answer.
”Because it’s pretty and a good memory.“
He nodded and held out his hand to you, you gently grabbed his arm and pressed his hand into the clay, with your other hand you pressed his fingers more into the clay, making sure his handprint was fully on there.
Lifting his hand, you gasped at the handprint, it was perfect, ”Look, Louis! Your handprint, what do you think?“
”It’s pretty mummy, daddy, look!“
Lando got up with the empty bottle and Sofia and came around, so he was able to look at the handprint.
”Louis, you did so good! It’s beautiful.“
He brought the bottle to the kitchen and turned Sofia around so he could burp her, he came back and caressed Louis‘ head.
”Louis, do we want to do that again? It’s for Nana and Papa, so they have one as well for their tree.“
He nodded and held his already dirty hand to you again. You repeated the step you did a few seconds ago, and when he lifted his hand, the three of you gasped.
”Mummy! My hand.“
”Pretty, isn’t it? Should we go and wash your hands?“
Louis nodded and you lifted him off your lap and sat him on the floor where he started to run to the bathroom. Quickly you left a kiss on your daughter's cheek and went after your son, to help him wash his hands. Once his hands were clean and you returned to the table with Louis, Lando, and Sofia waiting for you two, Sofia was burped and ready for her turn, not that she knew what was happening soon.
”Look, Louis, I will make a hole in the clay and once it’s dry, we can hang it on our Christmas tree. Do you want to watch your sister do the same?“
He excitedly nodded and sat on his kiddy chair again, playing with a few cars while you made the holes in the clay. Sofia was getting fuzzy, Lando tried to calm her by bouncing her up and down, but she was not having it.
”Daddy, do you want me to talk to Sof?“
He was so mature for his age and already the best big brother ever, he knew when Sofia was fuzzy, not a lot helped, she mostly wanted to be held and played with. Lando nodded and lowered Sofia, so Louis was able to look at her while standing up.
”Sof, you can stop crying, it’s not scary, and when it’s finished we have a pretty-looking ornament, you don’t need to cry.“
You teared up at what Louis was saying, he was truly the best big brother ever, protecting his sister at all costs and trying to cheer her up. He kissed her cheek and Lando gave Sofia to you, so you could get over with the clay part pretty quickly. While Louis was calming her down, you already made two round shapes, the only thing that was missing was her handprint.
You positioned her so that you could press her hand in the clay, Lando helped you with gently adding pressure on her hand to get her handprint on there. When you lifted her hand, and the print was beautiful, you immediately pressed her hand against the other clay, Lando repeating the same as he did with the other one.
Louis squealed when he saw her handprints and Lando took her to the bathroom, where he cleaned Sofia's hands.
You moved the clays to a safe spot where they could dry, and Louis couldn’t reach them.
”Mummy, when’s daddy coming back? I want to play with him.“
”Soon baby, he’s putting Sof down for a nap, did you like crafting? We can do it every year and see your hands grow!“
”Yes, mummy, but I can go play now?“
You chuckled and nodded, when Lando came back and kissed your cheek, you told him that Louis was waiting for him in the living room.
”I love you, and our kids so much.“
#lando norris#lando norris imagine#formula 1#lando norris x you#lando norris x reader#lando norris fluff#lando norris x y/n#lando x reader#lando norris one shot#lando imagine#christmas tree#dad!lando norris
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jjk men x christmas morning
prompt: christmas morning with the jjk men
mentioned: geto, gojo, nanami, choso, and toji
christmas fluff hehe ❄🎄🎅🏻🎄❄
authors note: for toji's one shot, megumi is 5-6 years old
suguru geto: Suguru tends to seep into seasonal depression during the holidays, so Christmas morning isn't as magical as it was when you were a child. He keeps to himself, making sure his mental health stays afloat while also being present for you.
This holiday season has been especially tough for him and your relationship, but you will do anything to make it work.
After tossing and turning for almost an hour, you finally meek up the courage to wake Suguru up.
"Sugu." You whisper, watching his chest move with his breaths. His eyes fluttered open, revealing his chocolate eyes.
"Good morning my love." Suguru half smiled, kissing your forehead.
"Merry Christmas Suguru." You bury yourself in his chest, while his arms wrap around your body.
"Merry Christmas. Do you want to go downstairs?"
"Why? I haven't brought the presents down yet." You tilt your head curiously.
Suguru was silent as he grabbed your hand and led you out of the bedroom. The apartment you shared with Suguru was so cozy and warm, making it hard to ever leave.
You walk down the stairs and see the Christmas tree lit up with piles of presents underneath it, along with a tray of cookies with a bite taken out of one.
"You did this? For me?" You grab Suguru, hugging him tightly.
"This is your favorite holiday, I wasn't gonna let you wake up and not feel the magic." He pressed his lips to yours gently, pulling his body into yours.
"You're gonna be such a great father." You look up into the pools of chocolate in his eyes.
Suguru did a double take when you said that.
"Are you...?"
You grab the small present on top of the table with a red bow, handing it to Suguru. "Merry Christmas, Suguru."
As Suguru neatly opened the present, his eyes lit up when he saw what was inside the box. A pregnancy test with the word "positive" as well and a + sign.
"Baby," Suguru paused and twists the test hin his hands. "Are you sure?"
"Yes. I wouldn't want to start a family with anyone else." You rubbed your stomach lightly.
⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆
satoru gojo: Satoru adores Christmas. Since you moved in with him, he has hyped up the holidays and how much he decorates his home.
The place you share with Satoru is currently covered in green, red, elves, and Santa Claus. Every single room looks like a scene from a Christmas movie.
"Sweetness." Satoru said in a sing-song way from the kitchen. "Come here."
You listen, Satoru hearing the your feet pad through the hallway.
"Yes, Satoru?"
"Look what I got!" He held up a mistletoe, his glasses on the bridge of his nose. His eyebrows looked almost cartoon like as they moved.
"Very cute." You watch as he lifts the mistletoe over his head and purses his lips. You push yourself onto your tip-toes and kiss his lips softly before he pulled you back in to snake his tongue into your mouth.
"Satoru," You giggle, gently pushing his chest. "Let's open gifts now. We have to head to my parents house soon."
"Well, they love me so we can be as late as we want."
"We're not going to be late to my parents Christmas dinner because you cannot keep it in your pants."
Satoru rolled his eyes, sticking his tongue out. "Not like you weren't thinking about it too."
You turn around to go to the Christmas tree, noticing all of the mistletoes hanging from several spaces in your home. "Satoru...."
"It's gonna take us awhile to get to the tree." He picked you up and wrapped your legs around his waist, stealing a kiss. "Merry Christmas, sweetness."
��꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆
kento nanami: Kento Nanami finds the holiday season exhausting - working long hours so he can afford to get you anything and everything you want for Christmas. At the end of the day, however, he loves the smile that appears on your face when you see Christmas lights and decorations. Christmas mornings with you consist of a eating Christmas cookies and baking other treats - something you and Nanami enjoy doing together.
"Kento, what shape should I make this batch?" You hold up two different cookie cutters. "Snowman or Santa?"
"Hm..." Kento tapped his chin, glancing at each of the cutters. "Santa. It's Christmas morning."
"Good choice." You smile as you pressed the Santa shape to the cookie dough. "Can you pass me the chocolate chip cookie dough?"
"Of course, beautiful." He grabbed the bowl and brought it to you, moving a piece of hair out of your face. "God, how did I get so lucky?"
"You are so sweet." You look into Kento's eyes, watching him study every detail of your face. "Thank you for making this Christmas morning my best yet." You mix the dough, bringing the spoon to Kento's mouth. "Taste."
Kento opened his mouth to let the spoon in and nodded in approval. "Amazing. I almost can't wait for them to be done already."
"It's my grandma's top secret recipe." You wiggle your hips with excitement, scooping the dough onto the baking sheet.
"I can't wait to meet her today." Kento wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. "You speak to highly of her."
"Christmas is her favorite holiday, like me." You lean back onto Kento's chest. "She's the best."
"I don't doubt it." Kento planted a kiss on your cheek before walking to the living room. "Let's watch a Christmas movie while we bake. Love Actually?" He held up the remote in your line of vision.
"It's like you were made for me."
⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆
choso kamo: Choso is a family man. He adores his brothers so much that he wants you to get along with them just as much as he does. Specifically, his little brother Yuji Itadori. You spent Christmas Eve with his family at their cabin, fully immersing yourself in Choso's family.
Christmas morning was full of wrapping paper and Christmas songs – the picture perfect Christmas.
"Baby, are you enjoying yourself?" Choso sat next to you on the couch. "You're quiet."
"I'm just... taking everything in, Choso. I've never had a Christmas morning like this. Laughs, smiles, music, all of it."
You never had a big family like this and adore how much Choso loves his family.
"I'm so glad you're here." He kissed your temple, glancing at Yuji. "He loves your gift the most I think."
You gifted Yuji a polaroid camera – he mentioned a couple of times that he loves having photos from moments that he wants to remember forever.
"I hope he loves it."
"He will never love it as much as I love you." Choso closed the space between you, pressing his lips to yours gently. His hand caressed your face, causing you to smile against his lips.
"Choso!! Get a room!" Yuji whined.
⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆
toji fushiguro: As a single dad, Toji has a hard time with Christmas. His son, Megumi, is his world but he has never been great at the whole Santa thing. This year, you helped him bring the magic.
"Daddy!" Megumi ran out of his room, gasping as he saw the decorations. Toji helped you set up the cookies, while taking (several) bites out of them, a gulp of milk, and shoe prints (Toji had to put on his work boots, walking through the house as quietly as he could so he didn't wake Megumi up) to make it look like Santa was there.
"Santa was here! Look at all the presents!!" Megumi hugged Toji's legs, earning a head pat from Toji.
You're leaning against the doorway in your bedroom that you share with Toji, smiling at your boyfriend being a dad. Toji turned around and flashed a smile at you, waving his hand for you to come over to them. He handed you a cup of freshly made coffee, briefly kissing your lips before Megumi interrupted.
"Look!!" Megumi called your name. "Santa came!"
"Oh wow!" You kneel down to Megumi's level, gasping at the piles of presents. "You must've been at the top of the nice list this year."
Megumi began opening his presents, showing both of you every one he got from Santa.
"You did good." Toji kissed the top of your head, wrapping his muscular arm around your waist.
"We did good." You emphasized the we, leaning into Toji's side. You sipped your coffee and watched Megumi open all of his gifts, then there was one left in the tree.
"Megumi, are you gonna open that one?" You look at the small box in the tree, not remembering setting that up last night.
"That's yours from Daddy."
"What?" You look at Toji as he walked to the tree and grabbed the box. Next thing you know, he's on one knee.
"Will you marry me?" Toji smiled as he opened the small box, your dream ring shining in the morning sun.
⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆
authors note: merry christmas everyone!! i had fun writing these, i've had these one shots on my list of to dos for awhile and i loveeeeee me some jjk men!!
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jujutsu kaisen fanfiction#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#jjk fanfic#jjk fanfiction#suguru geto#satoru gojo#kento nanami#choso kamo#toji fushiguro#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk one shot#christmas
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A Fortunate Mistake: Christmas Special
Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader (+18)
Word count: 14,000
Fluff + Smut + Angst
Smut Content: Dry humping, oral (reader recieving), marking bites, voyeruism, possessive language during sex, rough vaginal sex, multiple orgasms, breeding kink, creampie
You are a maintenance worker for the Spider Society, one who's been keeping your relationship with Miguel a secret for some time.
The holidays are now just around the corner, and while everyone else is excited, Miguel seems to be struggling. You decide to try and help him out.
Note: this is based on my other fic, A Fortunate Mistake, and takes place between chap 8 - 9, but can be read as its own one-shot! There's just an established relationship here. Anyway enjoy hehe
‘Okay, hold- hold- HEY, hold it—!’
You strained your arms as your fellow maintenance workers called back, all straining in the exact same way.
You were currently hanging almost entirely vertically from a standard beam in the HQ lobby, a position that came very unnaturally to you as a human. However, you weren’t at liberty to think about that right now, as you were right in the middle of helping put up Christmas decorations.
This would usually be a relaxing activity, or at the very least a mildly inconvenient one, but for a society run by spiders the decorations had to be a little unorthodox. So instead of getting tangled in tinsel or vacuuming up pine needles, you were hoisting an entire tree up the side of the HQ wall to be stuck down at an angle.
You wiped your brow and tensed the rope one more time. ‘Alright! Pull up, up- that’s it!’
With a final grunt the tree slipped into the pre-bolted stand, and your co-worker rushed to solder it in. You loosened the rope at first just to be sure it was secure, and when the rope went slack but the tree stayed firm you threw it down entirely. Job done.
You dropped to the floor with a huff, leaning on your knees for support. The most you could manage in response to your co-workers’ cheers was a thumbs up.
‘Oh- god, fuck- okay! We did it! Good job guys, you—’
‘Hey! What are you lot up to?’
You glanced up to see Peter B. eagerly jogging towards your location, his eyes fixed on the tree. You offered him an awkward wave.
‘Hey! Peter, hi. We urgh- we’re just putting the decorations up. We’ve got like ten more trees to do but we’re halfway there, so, you know! Baby steps. Keep a- keep a positive spirit and all that.’
You expected to see Peter get excited over the decorations, but instead his smile faltered.
‘Oh! I, uh- I thought, you guys would have got the memo!’
Your eye twitched as your own smile faltered. ‘The mem—the what? The memo about what?’
Peter physically winced. He knew already that he was going to be the bearer of bad news. ‘Aha, well… Sorry let me urgh, find it, just a- second- OH, HEY! How about you hold May while I get it out?’
As a last-ditch effort to keep you calm he grabbed his baby daughter from her carrier and thrust her body into your arms. You stumbled as May squealed and patted your cheeks.
‘Oof- Peter, uh- she’s lovely but—’
‘AH! Here it is!’
As you finally found your balance again Peter shoved a holographic message right into your face.
‘See? Uh- last minute change, elites said it was safer to do holographic decorations this year! So they’re just doing that. In fact, they should be about to—’
In the middle of speaking a low hum began to fill the HQ, drawing you both to glance upward. Just as he’d predicted the entire building was suddenly filled with bright, shining holographic Christmas decorations, ones that totally eclipsed the meager work you’d done.
Peter and May cooed with glee as the other spiders let out rapturous applause. You, however, looked utterly sour.
‘Oh my god… Well! Alright then. Guess I’m on lunch break early.’
You awkwardly handed Mayday back over to Peter and brushed down your clothes. He didn’t even seem to notice. You bid him goodbye and waved off the other workers, all of whom looked just as sour as you, before turning and heading for the cafeteria instead.
If you were off work early, you could at least make the most of the extra time. You could at least hope he was here.
You swung by the cafeteria and grabbed your usual to-go bag of empanadas. The girl you knew there tried to sell you on something new they were trying but you waved her off; you knew he didn’t like surprises, all he wanted was the same comfortable treat.
With lunch in hand you scaled the beams up towards the highest corridor accessible to the spiders. You ran down the corridor filled with anomaly cages, passed the go-home machine and down to the left. All the way through the eerie, empty space, back to the person you wanted to see the most.
Back to him. Back to Miguel.
You shoved his office door aside with dramatic flair.
‘Miguel?’
You called out into the empty space and listened to the words echo upward into nothing. You noted that his desk was hovering about halfway up, but you couldn’t see him on it. Drat, was he busy again?
You turned a full circle in his room, awkwardly bouncing the empanada box on your hip. Where was he? Surely your luck couldn’t be that bad, right?
‘Mig—’
‘Up here.’
You jumped and glanced upward again. Ah, wait, there he was: one of his hands was draped unceremoniously over the edge of the floating desk, hanging limply with his claws extended. It seemed that your boss was lying flat on his back on the office floor.
As you went to put the empanada box in your bag for safekeeping a long string of neon red webbing cascaded down to the floor. You rolled your eyes at his dramatics, but secretly you were glad. This was as open as he would be that he wanted to see you.
With your bag tight around your waist you grappled onto the web and began to crawl your way up.
‘Hey there beautiful man’ you whispered as you crawled over the edge. Miguel did not respond.
He was, as you’d expected, lying flat on his back on the cold metal of his office platform. His arms were spread out and his legs slightly parted, with his eyes closed and his brow knotted.
You scooted along the rim of the office until you were sat by his head. Gingerly, you brushed a lock of his hair aside.
‘Hey Mig’ you whispered.
His eyes opened slowly, filling your gaze with red light. You tried to offer him a smile.
‘Nena.’ It was all he said, and while it was said affectionately you could feel the strain in his voice. He sounded exhausted.
‘Yep, that’s me. I uh- I brought you lunch. Your favorite.’
You pulled out the empanada box and shook it, hoping it would cheer him up. Miguel slowly closed his eyes.
‘Mmm.’
His grunt didn’t sound impressed. You put the box down beside his hand and leaned in closer. ‘You okay bud? You seem even more dry than usual.’
Once again he opened one eye, though this time he wrinkled his nose and brows. ‘Did… did you just call me, bud?’
‘Uh… yeah. Sorry. Am I, not supposed to do that?’
The two of you stared at each other for a good minute, lingering in that painfully awkward silence. You worried for a second he might get legitimately mad.
But, instead, the corners of Miguel’s mouth slowly began to twitch upward. His confusion turned to mild amusement, and a short huff of a laugh escaped his lips.
‘Ay, nena. I’ve missed you.’
You felt relieved. You glanced once at the edge of the office to make sure you were alone before pressing a tentative kiss to his forehead. ‘Sorry. I just feel bad, only calling you by your name all the time. I don’t have a cool nickname for you like you do for me’ you whispered.
You tried to pull away then, but Miguel caught you first. He used his claws to tilt your head down, pulling all the way until his lips hit yours. Your whole body went warm as he took one sweet and lingering kiss.
‘I missed you’ he repeated after pulling away. Your eyelids drooped.
‘I missed you too, Miguel.’
With a grunt your beloved pseudo-partner finally forced himself to sit up. He stretched a little as he struggled upward, and as always you were awe-struck by the sight of him. It never failed to surprise you just how large he was.
‘Mierda… Ah, you uh- did you say, you brought lunch?’ Miguel asked between rubbing his temple. You eagerly nodded.
‘Of course! Got your favorite this time.’
‘Really?’
Miguel tilted his head to glance inside the bag you’d brought, noting the labelling on the side. You had, indeed, managed to get his favorite flavor for once.
‘Good girl, nena’ he praised, sounding genuinely surprised. ‘Thank you.’
You loosened up at his stoic praise, your grin widened until your cheeks hurt. Without another word you handed over his half of the food.
You settled into your familiar routine, swinging your legs over the edge of the platform as you divided up your share of empanadas in the box. You tore the container in half to make two little plates you could eat off of to save him the cleaning, and with your plate on your lap you sat shoulder to shoulder in that empty abyss.
Miguel grunted as he checked his.
‘You didn’t get these ones as well?’ he asked, gesturing to your plate. You’d stuck with the beef empanadas, the most common ones they had, over the cheese ones you both preferred. You just shrugged.
‘Ah, yeah, but it’s fine! I’m all good.’
‘You changed your appetite?’ he asked, probing further as he took a tentative bite of his own to check the temperature. You shrugged again.
‘Um- no, just, they only had two of the cheese ones left. That’s all.’
Miguel paused mid-bite, his eyes rolling over to stare you down. You gave him a lopsided smile.
‘You—’ Miguel stammered and swallowed hard to finish speaking. ‘You gave up your lunch for me?’
‘What? no! I mean I’m still eating, so… I didn’t, give anything up’ you replied in an oddly defensive tone. Miguel didn’t buy it though. He let out a soft sigh, his claws coming up to gently scratch at your scalp.
‘You soft thing’ he murmured. ‘At least someone cares about what I want today.’
You glanced up from relishing the intoxicating sensation of his thick, calloused fingers scratching your head, and noted the dour, bitter look in his eyes.
‘Ohhh, oh okay. What’s happened? Is it the elites again?’ you asked, whispering the last part as if one of them would hear. Miguel pinched the spot between his brows.
‘Ay por Dios- ah, yes. Yes, of course, it’s them. They’re insisting that they host a workplace, festive holiday party, even though I keep insisting we are NOT a workplace, we are an organization who need to be on the offensive at all times, and THEN they want to- do this, thing, where we all exchange gifts in secret—’
‘Oh! Secret santa?'
‘Yes, that. Have you done it?'
‘Mhm!’ You hurriedly swallowed in order to explain properly, all while Miguel stared you down. ‘Yeah you uh- you get given a random colleague and you buy them a gift, so its fair, everyone gets one.’
‘Yes, it is- a fine tradition, for literally anywhere else’ Miguel scoffed. ‘If I’m too busy for you I’m definitely too busy for anyone else. And I don’t know what they want! How do I find out?’
‘Don’t you have access to like, everything and everyone on those monitors?’ you noted, waving a piece of empanada at his desk. Miguel shot you a disapproving look.
‘I use that to keep the multiverse safe. Not to- spy on my fellow spiders so I can find them an appropriate gift.’
‘Yeah, but… you’re not saying you CAN’T use it for that’ you insisted. Miguel’s eye twitched at your playful naivety.
‘You’re a menace’ he grunted.
‘A HELPFUL menace, with good ideas!’ you cheered.
He couldn’t help it; a small half-smile broke onto his face at the sight of your gormless joy, but it didn’t last long. The anxiety of his situation crept up on him mere moments later.
Miguel pushed his now empty box aside and sighed. While you were mid-way through your final bite he shuffled backward until he was slumped against his desk, his eyes once again closed to hide from the world.
‘I don’t want to go’ he said bluntly.
Oh boy, you thought. He was in a really bad mood this time. You hurriedly swallowed the last of your lunch, manically licking flakes of pastry from your fingers so they didn’t get grease on his suit, before crawling over the floor to his side.
He didn’t open his eyes for you but his hands did reach out to grope for your body. You squeaked as he dragged you in against his side, squeezing your upper torso against his. You were smooshed directly into his pec.
‘I don’t, want, to go’ he repeated with a hiss. You patted his chest.
‘I know big guy.’
For a while you just lay in his arms, taking in the brief respite of each other’s touch while you could. You didn’t exactly get a lot of time together. The occasional outing or the occasional night visit to his apartment was the best you could get, along with these lunch breaks whenever he wasn’t on a mission, so the chance to just touch him was one you couldn’t pass up.
He was so warm. You squished into his pec and felt his chest move as he breathed, his heartbeat thudding on your cheek. Your fingers idly fiddled with his suit while his claws scratched at your work pants.
That brief, fleeting moment of domestic bliss was intoxicating. You squeezed him lightly, and he squeezed you back.
‘Nena?’
‘Yes?’
‘Will you come with me?’
Miguel’s interruption caught you very much off guard. You gabbed a little as his eyes rolled open once more, now peering at you in earnest. He was pleading with them.
‘Please’ he said softly.
‘Ah… I mean, won’t it look suspicious? I’m not a spider.’
‘You’re my friend aren’t you?’
Your face went warm. ‘I… am technically your friend, yes. I suppose.’
‘So it’s not suspicious. You had time off work, I passed you in the hall and offered for you to come. As a friend.’
You smiled, your fingers now tracing down his chest. You thought about how good he felt under the suit. That rough skin, scarred and warm, covered in thick hair you loved to run your fingers through when it was late and you were cuddling.
You knew from his sad expression he was thinking of the same. The way his hand squeezed you over your clothes, it was clear he was fantasizing about the soft, thick flesh beneath, and how warm it was when he gripped it.
‘Friend’ he repeated, his voice a little husky. You felt him bury his nose into your hair, breathing in deep.
‘Y-Yeah. Friend’ you repeated back. In that moment you both felt the same familiar spark: that unquenchable, physical magnetism, that carnal yearning you couldn’t seem to stop. Miguel squeezed you tight.
‘You’re- such, a good friend’ he whispered. Oh boy, his voice was definitely husky now. You felt him moving, bending, slowly forcing you down to the floor. His lips went from your hair to your neck.
‘M-Mig, we’re at wor- a-ah—’
You squeaked as he began to suck on your neck.
‘Mm… Mm...’
His moans were muffled against your skin. You knew he was fantasizing about biting you. You were deeply flushed, torn between your physical desire and your anxiety over being caught, but as his hands began to fumble your shirt aside you felt desire take over.
You helped him open your shirt at the top, allowing his hand to slip beneath the thin fabric. He began eagerly squeezing your breasts as he sucked and kissed your neck.
‘Ah- Mig.’ You whispered his name intensely, only barely managing to bite down a much louder moan. His fingers were so rough on your chest, and he couldn’t stop himself gently teasing your nipples to try and get another whimper out of you. You had to bite your lip to keep them down.
‘Mig- please, careful—’
‘Mm.’
He groaned into your skin and shuffled, his enormous body shifting until he was directly on top of you. You had to breathe in deep as his chest crushed your ribs.
‘Mig- M-Mig—’
‘Mmm…’
With a soft, satisfied moan Miguel began to dry-hump you over your work clothes. You could feel his clothed bulge desperately kneading between your thighs, eagerly pushing your legs apart so he could grind on your clothed cunt.
‘Mmm...’
You lay back and struggled to keep quiet as he rubbed himself out. You could hear the distant laughs and shouts of spiders somewhere beyond his office, and there was a real fear in you that they could come in at any time.
But, you didn’t tell him to stop. Why would you? After all, you were a filthy pervert for the man, and part of you kind of wanted to get caught. Part of you wanted to be his.
You moaned softly as he ground his hefty bulge just close enough to stimulate your clit. You could feel your slick soaking your panties, and you knew he was probably staining the inside of his suit with pre-cum. You clung tight to his back as his weight crushed you into the cold floor.
You were only drawn apart by one particularly loud shout. It wasn’t calling for Miguel, but it was enough to make him release you and jerk his head up. ‘Fuck… fuck.’
You could see the disappointment in his eyes as he cursed. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and gingerly wiped his spit from your neck.
‘Sorry, nena.’
‘I-It’s okay, it’s fine.’
With a soft moan Miguel buried his face into your hair once more. You felt his claws squeezing your waist.
‘I’d love to bite you’ he whined.
‘I know’ you panted.
‘I’d love… to bite you, and suck, and have you walk around so everyone knows you’re mine.’
You felt him give one final, needy grind between your legs before sighing and withdrawing, giving you the chance to shuffle onto your elbows.
‘What have you done to me?’ he whispered with a slight chuckle. You hurried to smooth out your clothes. ‘What have I done- why is this on me? I just brought you lunch!’
Miguel bashfully brushed his hair back as you sat up. He couldn’t help himself from looking, especially at where your pants had come down in your frantic dry humping to reveal just a little part of your panties. He was disappointed when you pulled them back up.
‘Mhm. Exactly.’ He reached out and took your chin in his hand, pausing your manic attempt to dress. ‘No one else who brings me lunch makes me want to act like this. So, clearly, there’s something about you.’
‘Ahuh. Very poetic, sir’ you teased. His eyes were so soft in contrast to his otherwise stern expression.
‘Come with me. Please.’
You finally finished sorting your clothes and shuffled into a cross legged position, facing Miguel head on. He leant his head on his upturned fist.
‘What do I get out of it?’
He snorted a laugh at your answer. ‘Ay, nena… How about, best friend status?’ he replied. He was trying to be sarcastic but you jumped at the idea.
‘Oh- oh shit, really? For real? Alright. Done. I’ll see you there, bestie!’
Miguel scowled as he watched you jump to your feet. ‘Do not call me bestie.’
You looked over your shoulder as you scavenged your things, clearly displeased by his curtness. ‘What, not even in private?’
Miguel sighed, his hand flying to his face. ‘Ay por Dios- ah, fine. In private is fine, but not in public.’
‘Aww, Mig, are you embarrassed of me?’
Miguel’s teasing seemed to fall off almost immediately at that. He looked distraught. ‘I- no, nena, of course not. No. I just- look if you start calling me that, Peter will think it’s okay! I can’t have that happening!’
You couldn’t help but giggle at Miguel’s genuine horror. You had to force yourself to stop as you gave him a sympathetic kiss on the chest.
‘Okay. I will come to your work thing. I’ll uh- distract Peter by asking about his thoughts on baby car seats, or Jess on motorcycle maintenance. You can sulk in the corner until it’s over.’
Miguel’s smile was genuine as he gazed down at you. For just a moment, things seemed like they might be alright.
‘Thank you, nena. You’re an angel.’
….
It was roughly 1pm, and you were anxiously pacing about two corridors down from where you knew the Christmas get together was happening. You were here waiting for Miguel to show up and make your appearance seem organic.
You were still in your work clothes, which felt a little odd, but you knew it would look even more odd if you weren’t in them in the middle of the day. You also couldn’t be too close to the party or it’d look stranger still.
You sighed to yourself as your back hit the nearest wall. Here, alone, beneath the cold fluorescents, you pondered this weird situationship you’d gotten into.
You loved Miguel dearly, you really did, both genuinely as a friend and as something more complicated. You just wished you could be more open about it. It was hard to lie, hard to constantly be on the lookout for ways to be inconspicuous. It was exhausting.
You didn’t even entirely know why you couldn’t be open about it. All you knew is you trusted him, or at least, you wanted to, so what he said went.
Your mind drifted to his lips on your neck, and you absently brushed where he’d kissed you. You thought about his words, about how he’d whined over not being able to mark you with a bite. Your cheeks glowed in the cold light.
You wished it too, you thought. You wished for nothing more.
‘Nena?’
You turned to find Miguel watching you from the corner of the hall. He was in full suit, even wearing his mask, which you found a little odd. You smiled as he approached.
‘Hey, big guy.’
Miguel glanced about the hall twice to ensure you were alone before placing a single, cautious kiss to your forehead.
‘You ready?’
You could hear the annoyance in his voice. He was already in a foul mood. With both hands you reached up and gently tapped his cheeks, urging him to remove his mask. He reluctantly obeyed.
‘There he is. Beautiful man.’ You cooed softly as you stroked his jaw, and you watched as he closed his eyes in response. You clung to that moment together, that sweet single moment alone, until you were forced apart by the sound of another spider’s footsteps.
Together you walked into the open lobby.
It was packed with spiders from ceiling to floor, with people standing or sitting at every angle possible. Those holographic decorations were extra bright here, filling the white room with a bright arrangement of rainbow lights. It was excessively cheery.
The moment you walked in you were hit with the low buzz of spiders chatting and calling over each other. Someone somewhere was singing, a gaggle of Peter’s were trying to get the radio to play music, but someone seemed to have already dropped eggnog on the thing and now all you could hear was the occasional static.
You also noticed very quickly that everyone else was wearing some horrible Christmas sweater. That is, everyone but Miguel.
‘Miguel! Hey! There you are!’
You jumped as Peter B. dropped from the ceiling in front of you, his arms flying to Miguel’s waist before the man could even respond. Miguel opted to just stand stock still in his usual, stoic posture, while Peter squeezed his ribs to dust.
‘Oh, I’m so glad! Hey, I told you it was festive sweater attire—’
‘I don’t- own one of those.’
Peter huffed at Miguel’s curtness. While Peter tried to put on his most disapproving, disappointed dad face, Miguel just curled his lip.
‘I brought you one! For this EXACT event!’
‘I lost it.’
‘You lo- how?! You live and work in the HQ!’
‘I lost it’ Miguel repeated. You could tell he was speaking through gritted teeth.
‘I swear you are unbelievable sometim—oh! Hey, you! It’s you!’
Peter finally noticed you standing awkwardly at Miguel’s back. You were easy to miss, as your body barely came up to his pecs and his shadow was currently hiding much of your body, but Peter’s senses were keen. He turned his accusatory finger from Miguel to you instead.
‘Hey! Oh, it’s good to see you, how are you doing?’
‘Hey, Peter. I’m- good, I’m good.’ You forced a smile to hide your anxiety over being here. You knew you weren’t doing anything wrong but you felt so out of place in these big gatherings. You weren’t a spider, you barely knew most of these people, and of course you were harboring the guilt of your secret affair with their boss.
As if sensing the strain in your voice Miguel allowed his hand to brush your elbow. It was a small, barely discernible action, but it meant the world to you. It was all the comfort you needed.
‘I didn’t know you were invited though’ Peter mused aloud. ‘I thought it was just a spider thing.’
‘Oh, I was—’
‘I saw her walking by and she mentioned she was on break, I thought- she might enjoy this’ Miguel said, quickly dropping your alibi in the most monotone way possible. You just nodded along with his explanation.
‘Oh’ Peter noted, his finger slowly retracting. ‘So, you two do know each other?’
Miguel grunted, his brows knotting into that familiar look of mild annoyance. ‘Do we know- yes, of course we know each other. She cleans my office three times a week. I told you before, we’re friends.’
Peter nodded along slowly. He wasn’t saying anything, but of course his senses had peaked. He was curious in a way that was making Miguel squirm.
‘So you—’
The three of you turned in unison as a sharp cry filled the lobby. It was a baby’s cry, a sharp squeak of joy, one that all three of you instantly recognized.
‘May! May, no, you can’t be up there!’
The red-headed baby had found her way onto one of the beams and was eagerly crawling towards the fake holographic tinsel, trying to grasp it with her little baby hand.
‘NO! NO, honey, you can’t- you can’t touch that- I’m so sorry, I gotta go!’
Thankfully Peter abandoned your conversation to climb the wall in pursuit of his baby daughter. You sighed with relief, your hand brushing Miguel’s arm, but when you touched him you found he was unbelievably tense. You glanced up to find his eyes glued to the ceiling.
‘Mig?’ you whispered. He was grinding his jaw with his lips pursed, his eyes unmoving.
‘This is why I didn’t want to come’ he hissed. Before you could speak he’d pulled away to the craft table.
‘Ah- Mig, hey!’ You hurried after him, awkwardly sidestepping the other spiders to reach him. ‘Mig? Miguel? What’s up?’
You finally caught him as he tried to hide at the end of the craft table, shoving himself into the corner. You bit down any jokes you instinctively wanted to make about this enormous, gorgeous man trying to hide anywhere.
‘Mig, it’s okay. Talk to me.’
You sidled up beside him and glanced about the room, making sure no one else was coming over. You could physically hear Miguel grinding his teeth at this point.
‘I knew this is what it would be’ Miguel murmured. ‘I get invited out of pity. Everyone’s here with their friends, and their family, because that’s what its about, and they know—’
Miguel choked on the last word. You noticed his eyes were swimming ever so slightly.
In the corner Peter was bouncing May in his arms while trying to coax Mary to go beneath the holographic mistletoe. Jess was laughing as she held up a hologram, on which you could see the laughing face of her husband as he admired her stomach.
You suddenly noticed how many Peters, how many Marys, how many Gwens were spread out here. Everyone seemed so comfortable with each other, and many more were talking about visiting their aunts or parents.
When you looked up at Miguel again, he looked strained.
‘I- I’m gonna take a break’ Miguel grumbled.
‘Oh, already? Hey that’s okay. Do you want me to come?’
He shook his head. ‘No, I just- I need a minute. Alone.’
Without another word he turned and fled, rushing immediately to the nearest bathroom stall. He locked it hard.
Suddenly, you were alone too. You immediately felt your heart speed up.
Oh god, did you know anyone else here? You sort of knew Peter B. but he was busy with his family, and you sort of knew Jess but not well enough to just chat. Everyone else here was a passing acquaintance. You began to wander aimlessly from spot to spot as if to imply you knew what you were doing.
You stared at the food but didn’t partake in anything but a half-filled cup of eggnog which you sipped on for support. You passed by the secret santa board listing everyone intending to participate, just so you looked like you were pondering it with purpose. You noticed Miguel’s picture had been pinned up there, his sullen face lost amide a sea of smiles. You spotted at the top a big sign declaring that Peter B. was this year’s organizer. Ah, of course, it was Peter orchestrating all of this. You quickly walked away.
Eventually you just found a corner to skulk in while you waited for Miguel to return.
It was quiet at least. Peaceful. Calm. You could watch everyone else stand around and sing and watch May admire all the Christmas lights.
You smiled too as you watched her. It was hard not to. It was inevitable, though, that your mind would drift back to Miguel again.
You knew about Miguel’s past at this point. You knew about Gabi, about his loss, about his isolation. You knew it was hard for him seeing every other spider suffer but still ultimately have a family to go home to.
Had he ever experienced a Christmas with Gabi? Did he even get enough time for that?
You knew, deep down, the real reason he didn’t want to be here. It wasn’t the casual socializing or the fact they weren’t technically a workplace. Maybe those things played a small part in his disdain, but really it was clear that he couldn’t bear to be reminded of what he didn’t have.
You glanced to where Miguel had gone to hide, praying for the door to open. It didn’t. You sadly sank back into yourself.
‘Hey, what uh- what an interesting spot you picked.’
You jumped as an unfamiliar voice called to you from the right. It was one of the nebulous Peter Parker’s, a slightly older one it seemed, who’d come to stand beside you on the edge of the lobby. You forced a smile.
‘Hi! Ah… what- Can I help you?’
This new Peter grinned in a way that made you extremely uncomfortable.
‘Well, I mean if you’re asking. This is the right spot for that after all.’
Now you were sweating. Your eyes darting as he started to chuckle. Why was he laughing at you? Who was this?
You realized his friends, a group of other Peter’s, were in the corner giving him a thumbs up. Immediately your stomach dropped, and with bulging eyes you slowly looked upward.
There it was. Mistletoe. Your idiot self had wandered right under it without thinking.
‘Oh! Oh, oh my god, I am- I’m so sorry, no, I didn’t—’
‘God you’re adorably shy, especially for someone waiting underneath it’ this new Peter chortled. You felt your heart hammering. Oh god, where was Miguel? Where was he? You tried to lean and look for him in the crowd, but the new Peter suddenly leaned in front of you.
‘So, you were standing here for no reason?’ he teased. You stammered on your words.
‘No, I’m- I didn’t know it was there, I swear, I didn’t mean to be here—’
He reached up to grab the holographic sprig, taunting you with it as he waved it back and forth.
‘Hey, come on, you gotta follow the rules’ he chuckled. He must have thought he was being playful, just indulging in some banter, but you were horrified. You tried to step away.
‘No, no I’m not- playing around I’m serious—’
‘HEY!’
Your whole body jolted as you were suddenly thrust away from the older Peter. A giant, muscular, red and blue clad arm had swung itself between the two of you and embedded itself into the wall.
Miguel stared down at the man before him, his eyes burning red. His face had contorted with rage, and his claws had turned the concrete wall into dust where he’d struck it.
‘W-Woah, woah, you—’ The man tried to speak but Miguel snapped at him before he could give any kind of excuse. ‘What do you think you’re doing? She said no!’ he barked.
‘I thought- I mean she was under the—’
‘She said. No.’ Miguel was hissing so hard that spittle flew from between his clenched fangs. The man took a step back.
‘Boss, hey, come on—’
‘No. I won’t, come on. There is nothing else to say. She said no. I do not allow people, in my organization, who don’t listen to NO. Especially when it’s her—’
‘Hey, man I was just joking—’
‘Is anyone laughing?!’
Miguel’s sneer had turned into a disdainful smile at this point, a deeply sarcastic grin which bore no joy. Peter had raised his hands into a defensive stance at this point. He knew he’d messed up.
‘I do everything for you ungrateful people’ he seethed. ‘Everything. I give up- everything. And you’re trying to take the ONE THING I HAVE—’
Miguel paused his onslaught abruptly when a hand hit his shoulder, gently drawing him back from his rage. He turned, following the hand to its owner’s face, only to find Peter B. staring back at him with mortified eyes.
‘Mig’ he whispered. Miguel slowly darted his eyes towards the rest of the room.
Everyone had frozen in place to stare at the little mess you’d made. You cowered against the wall with your hands clutched to your chest, while Miguel just stared with his mouth agape. He was panting, his chest heaving as his anger began to slowly dissipate.
‘Buddy?’ Peter B. whispered. At this point the other Peter had used the distraction to flee back to his friends.
‘You okay, buddy?’
Miguel’s face began to warp. It went from rage, to embarrassment, to guilt, right back to rage again. He cast you a quick glance that you couldn’t discern before shoving his way through the crowd.
‘Hey! Hey, Miguel!’
Peter B. gave chase, and after a moment of being frozen you also followed suit. You both managed to follow him to the lobby door before losing track, as he used his claws to drag his body up into the endless sea of beams going up through the HQ.
You panted and stumbled to a stop beside Peter. You were both alone, standing in the corridor just outside the main lobby. You could still hear the gossipy whispers drifting out.
‘Shit… Shit, oh god- Mig’ you panted. ‘I’m so- sorry, shit—’
‘Hey, hey, don’t apologize’ Peter stammered. He was also out of breath. ‘Argh, god- I knew this would be a bad idea. I knew he’d get wound up.’
You panted once, twice, recouping your breath, before rounding on Peter yourself. ‘Then why did you do it?! Why’d you make Miguel get involved if you know he hates it?’ you hissed.
Peter held up both hands in defense. ‘Hey! I just- oh, god, I’m so out of shape- look, I’m not oblivious! I’m not tryna be mean, or rude, I don't even celebrate this stuff, but—I just don’t want him to be alone again.’
You paused your intended onslaught when you saw the sincerity in Peter’s eyes.
‘Alone, again?’ you repeated back. Peter nodded.
‘Yes! He doesn’t—he doesn’t have any family. Not here, not even in another universe, he’s… It’s a hard time of year when you’re alone, even for regular people, but, he’s—’
‘Anything but regular’ you murmured. Peter gave another grim nod.
You sighed, hard.
‘Look, Peter, we’re worried about the same thing’ you insisted. ‘But just- forcing him to spend time around other people who have what he doesn’t have, how does that help?’
Peter held up his hands in surrender. ‘Yeah, I- I know. I know. I just thought- Sometimes, when he looks at May or holds her, I catch him smiling to himself. I catch him making those soft little dad noises at her and, I just thought, maybe he wanted more of it?’
The mental image Peter was painting made your stomach knot. You could see it so clearly, Miguel’s old worn face lifting into a smile as May cooed at him, as she reminded him of those long dormant instincts. It made your heart hurt.
‘But then other times he- he looks so defeated, and I… Well, my good intentions don’t really matter, do they? Either way I screwed up. I should have just, locked you two in a room or something, eh?’
You blanched at his sudden curtness. ‘You- what? What, what are you- aha, what are you implying, Peter? There’s no—’
‘Shh, shh.’
You stiffened as Peter put one finger to your lips. ‘Don’t wear yourself out, little lady, I know what you and my dear friend Miguel are up to.’
You could feel your face getting warm, and you were sure he could tell. Peter’s stupid puppy dog smile crept back onto his face as he watched you squirm internally.
‘What I meant was, I should have just done what he wanted, not what I wanted. And I’m fairly sure all he wants is to sit in a dark room on a couch watching some stupid old soap opera film while you sit next to him and, I don’t know, gaze at him adoringly.’
Slowly your body began to loosen up. Peter was right, there was no point lying. You reached up to remove his finger from your mouth.
‘I’d have liked that too’ you murmured.
In that moment it didn’t feel like there was anywhere else to go. You’d hit a wall, and the two of you were forced to just pace in the corridor in thought. That was, until something Peter had said stuck out to you in retrospect.
‘Hey, um—’
You held up a hand, awkwardly gesturing for Peter to come closer. He obliged, his adorable puppy face tilting as you mulled over what you were about to do.
‘This secret santa thing, could… could you do me a favor?’
Peter’s eyes lit up. You hadn’t stated your intentions but he already knew where this was going. Yes, you and Miguel were meant to be a secret. Yes, Jess had stated very clearly that it wasn’t a good idea to indulge it. But god, Peter couldn’t help himself. He was a romantic at heart.
‘What kind of favor?’ he whispered.
You leaned in closer and whispered back. ‘You’re in charge of handing them out, right? I want you to shift the names around. I want you to give Miguel to me. Nobody has to know, cos... yanno, it’s secret, but… could you do that for me?’
Peter beamed. ‘I can do that one hundred percent, ma’am, without a single issue.’
You beamed back. ‘Perfect! Thanks Peter, ah- sorry for snapping at you earlier.’
‘Hey, it’s all water under the bridge.’
As Peter flapped his hands dismissively you gazed up at the beams above. You sighed again.
You were supposed to spend Christmas with your family this year like always. It’d been a while since you’d seen them after all, and it was always something you looked forward to when you got the chance.
But, you felt like there was someone who maybe needed you a little more this year.
…
It was Christmas eve and almost all of the spiders at the HQ had gone home. The place was eerily empty without the usual crowds. With heavy snow falling outside the place felt liminal, like a building outside of space and time.
It was in this sea of nothing that Miguel appeared. He was walking alone through the lobby at a speedy pace, dressed in just slacks and a t-shirt. He was trying his best not to linger. He didn’t like to think about how alone he was, nor did he like to dwell on the echo of his footsteps. The only man left, the only footsteps in the whole HQ.
The echo felt cruel to him. It was like laughter, reflecting back to him his own isolation. He felt so small.
He found his way to the elevator and rode it up to the tippy top of the HQ, and all the way up he mourned his situation.
He missed you. You hadn’t had time to speak properly after the party incident, and he missed you dearly. He was left to think about what you might be doing, somewhere far from here, relishing the holiday with family. What was your family like, he wondered? Mum, dad, both, neither? Did you have siblings to bond with, or nieces or nephews to gift presents too?
You were always so kind. So soft. He was sure you’d planned their gifts well in advance. He smiled at the thought of you panicking over gifts, or getting excited over whatever they’d gotten for you. He daydreamed about your gleeful, shining face beneath the glinting lights.
What a sweet, domestic image. He wanted more than anything to just cling to it for a little while longer, but fate was cruel. The elevator came to a stop and jolted him back to reality, as its doors peeled aside to reveal the empty corridor to his apartment.
His smile faded. He looked exhausted. With heavy steps he trudged his way to his front door.
‘I’m home’ he muttered as he pushed the door aside. It was a cruel routine he did every time he got back to his apartment, calling out to a family that didn’t exist. As expected, nobody replied. With a soft grunt he kicked off his shoes and began to fumble for the light.
‘Welcome back.’
Miguel jumped in his skin, his claws bursting out as his suit automatically covered his body. In a defensive position he slammed the light back on.
‘WHO’S THERE?!’
His narrowed eyes darted about the now lit apartment before falling on a single figure in the center of the room, a figure sitting perfectly cross legged on his messy couch.
His eyes widened. It was you.
‘You… nena?’
Miguel lowered his mask to reveal his utterly stupefied expression. You couldn’t help but smile.
‘Hey, aha- sorry for the uh, theatrics, but… I mean that was kind of the point, right?’
Your awkward laugh filled the apartment as Miguel tilted his head.
‘Why- why are you here? How did you get IN?’ he asked. As he phased away the rest of his suit you swung your legs over the edge of the couch, hands clasped in your lap. You were trying your best to look like you knew what you were doing.
‘Ah- you don’t lock your door, so- I just walked in.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘You never lock your door’ you repeated gently. ‘You always forget, or you stay at work so late you never come back to lock it. You told me, last time I was here, remember?’
‘I… did, didn’t I’ he grunted. After a brief silent stare off Miguel turned and began silently taking off his shoes, leaving you sitting in the stillness.
You smiled to hide your anxiety. You couldn’t tell from his expression yet how he felt about your little jape, and you hadn’t even fully revealed your plan yet.
‘Nena, I am happy to see you, obviously, but…’
‘Obviously?’ you teased. He bashfully held up a hand.
‘Hey, come on, don’t start. You hid in my apartment without telling me, of course I’m going to be surprised, I would have jumped regardless of who it was.’
‘I know, I know, I’m kidding.’
Miguel shook his head. He looked exasperated but still mildly amused. ‘I am happy to see you, nena, really, but… as I was saying, why ARE you here?’
‘Well duh. I’m your secret santa.’
Miguel blinked. Now he looked even more confused.
‘You… Nena, you weren’t—’
‘On the ballot? No! I wasn’t. But SOMEHOW, I got on there! Call it uh- divine intervention, maybe—’
‘I’d call it Peter meddling’ Miguel grunted.
‘Ah, same thing! Don’t think about it!’
Miguel paused before properly responding to your shenanigans, opting instead to drop his stuff and slump onto the empty couch spot at your side. Your whole body bounced as he sat down.
‘Alright. I got it. So- Peter probably bribed you into spending Christmas with me, huh? Or did he blackmail you? Wait- nena, did he blackmail you?! I swear I will—’
‘What? No!’ You waved your hands and scoffed, quickly patting him back down from his brewing rage. ‘God you’re bad at this. I had a go at Peter for making you do holiday stuff when you were clearly unhappy, he said he only did it ‘cos he was trying to make you feel less lonely. So, I asked him myself to put me as your secret santa, and I planned this whole charade. Because I- also, want you to be happy, just, not by way of enforced socialization. I know you hate it.’
Miguel stared at you with his hand halfway down his jaw. He looked utterly stupefied.
‘You… I, will never understand you’ he said softly, the words barely a breath. You just kept your smile as wide as you could.
‘So- you’re—’
‘Happy secret santa!’
You interrupted Miguel’s attempted speech by dumping a huge wrapped present box on his lap. Miguel froze, his eyes locked on the box like it was a venomous snake, a perfect contrast to you as you eagerly slapped your thighs with excitement.
‘Go on! Open it!’
‘This- what is it?’ Miguel hissed. You reached out and incessantly patted his bicep.
‘It’s your- present! So open it! NOW!’
‘Okay! Okay! Ay Dios—’
With a soft grunt Miguel hurried to unwrap the box, shyly lifting the top flaps aside. He peered down into it while you clapped your hands beside him.
‘It’s…’
Miguel reached in and pulled out a handful of items.
‘It’s- so that’s that chocolate you mentioned months ago that you loved as a kid. The chilli one. I had to get it imported, I was SO worried it wouldn’t arrive but it did! Yay!’
Miguel slowly turned the wrapped candy over in his hand. ‘Nena, you—’
‘And that’s some new boxers. I hope you don’t mind, but I remember you said it’s the one thing you always run out of because you don’t wear anything else under the suit usually so you needed more— I made sure they were in your colors though!’
Miguel glanced down at the pack of boxers you’d brought him. They were, indeed, custom printed in red and blue. He just kept mumbling to himself, unable to form a real response.
‘And- I got you that copy of your favorite film, because I know you have everything digitized but you’re a sucker for just having things, it means Lyla can’t see ‘em, and… Oh, what’s that- OH! Yes, and I got you a voucher, for the canteen, I paid for like, a MONTHS worth of empanadas in advance so you or I can use those there for, like, maybe a week, knowing us.’
‘Nena, this is… really, thoughtful’ he murmured. You beamed.
‘At-at-at, it’s not over yet. And, finally, well… I thought, I could stay over, maybe. Keep you company. Spend Christmas here.’
Miguel’s mouth was agape.
‘Not like- I don’t want to um, make this more serious than it needs to be, like, this can be just a… friends with benefits, Christmas? I don’t know, what I’m saying is I just want to, you know, be here. With you. As a… whatever we are. For Christmas.’
Miguel, still stunned, slowly shook his head.
‘But, nena, your family—’
‘Ah, they’ll be fine! They’ve had me for every Christmas since I was BORN! That is like, an unfathomable amount of me to deal with’ you teased. Miguel’s solemn expression slowly tilted, his lips sliding into a half-smile.
‘Ah, so you’re offsetting their burden to me this year, huh?’
‘Mhm! You’re stuck with me.’
Bit by bit, Miguel’s heart melted. That cold exterior turned soft under your earnest smile. He slowly pushed the box of gifts aside so he could face you properly.
‘I- couldn’t think of a better gift, than being stuck with you’ he said. You felt a rush of warmth through your whole body, and instinctively tried to bat it away.
‘Aha, no, come on. Even the chocolate?’
‘It is, much, much better than that’ he said. His voice had gone unnervingly quiet, unnervingly gentle. You felt your heart flutter.
‘Well, I’m… glad. I’m, glad you’re happy I’m here. Now- do you wanna help me cook, maybe? I’m not sure what you’ve got but, we can make something work, right?’
Miguel nodded slowly. His eyes were utterly fixated on your face, on your little joyful dimples and wide eyes.
‘Sure. Sure, mi nena. I’d love that.’
You smiled so wide it hurt. ‘Mm. Good! Good. I’ll uh- get started then.’
Miguel watched as you scrambled to your feet and rushed to his tiny kitchenette. For just a moment, he decided to hang back. He was trying to hide his instinctual fear from you. He was happy, yes, deliriously so, but that scared him down to his core. He wasn’t supposed to be happy.
Had he let this go too far? He still wasn’t sure if any of this could get you hurt, if this somehow upset his canon. He was supposed to be alone after all, and yet, here you were.
With dilated eyes he glanced at the enormous glass wall overlooking the city. It was still snowing outside, heavy and hard, and Nueva was coated in a soft, dreamy blanket of white which glittered in the rainbow city lights.
It was beautiful. Serene. He bent and whispered into his watch.
‘Lyla?’
‘Yes?’
‘Ah- are there, any anomalies?’
‘No sir, none.’
Miguel’s eyes softened a little. Huh, he thought, no anomalies at all?
‘Are you sure?’ he whispered again. Lyla flashed a small red X at him over the watch.
‘None! None at all! I already said that!’
Part of him wanted to ask her a third time but he stopped himself. No, Lyla was trained to know this stuff, she had to be right. That meant this, at the very least, wasn’t breaking his canon. For now.
He stole a glance at you in the kitchen as you rummaged through his fridge. Even that small, mundane activity, watching you forage around and tut to yourself, made his heart a little less heavy. In fact, it made it light. The sight of your face smiling, the way you bit your tongue to concentrate as you separated food on the counter, it felt like bird wings fluttering in his chest.
‘Ay por Dios- I’m too old to be doing this’ Miguel mumbled to himself, but despite his gripes he was just too intoxicated to stop. It felt too good to be this content, this flushed and flighty and nervous. If this was safe, well, perhaps he could just stay here. Perhaps he could just stay with you, just the two of you, in this sweet heavenly limbo.
‘Okay. Ah- thank you, Lyla. That’s all’ he mumbled. Miguel went to close the receiver, but he paused at the last second. He decided to whisper one more thing.
‘Ah- merry Christmas, Lyla.’
‘You- what?’
Miguel grunted, already embarrassed, but he repeated it again. ‘I- I said, you know—’
‘Yeah I heard you, I’m just surprised’ Lyla crowed. ‘What’s got you all soft and mushy? Finally feeling the spirit of the season?’
Miguel refused to make eye contact as Lyla appeared in holographic form, her eyes roaming his dumpy apartment. It didn’t take long for her to notice you in the kitchen.
‘You- ooohhh. Oh. I got it.’
Lyla shot him a smug grin as she tilted her glasses. ‘Maybe not the spirit of the season, but you’re sure feelin’ something, huh boss?’
‘Get- out of here’ he hissed.
‘Merry Christmas boss. You two be safe now.’
Before Miguel could snap anything back Lyla phased herself away. She even made a point of switching his watch off for him, a subtle indicator that she knew he ought to be alone with you right now.
Miguel took her advice and gently slipped his watch off. It would be fine on the counter. Now fully certain that the two of you were alone, he rose to his feet and joined you in the kitchen. He had only one thing left on his mind.
You were busy sorting out leftovers when you felt his shadow at your back. The weight of his pecs pushed in against your head as his hips brushed your rear, very lightly pressing you against the counter.
‘Oof- oh, hey! There you are, you okay?’
You tilted your head back, a goofy smile spread across your face, only to have it immediately wiped.
Miguel wasn’t offering his same slightly stilted smile. He had an expression that you were now very familiar with, but it wasn’t one you were expecting to see right now. Those half-lidded eyes, that open smile, the way his breath condensed slightly as it huffed between his bared fangs. You felt the red light of his gaze gawking at you, admiring just how small you looked against his chest.
He pushed a little closer and you oomphed again.
‘Ah- h-hey, Miguel, you—’
‘I didn’t get you a present’ he said slowly. You watched as each of his clawed hands came down on the counter, trapping you in. Your body trembled with excitement.
‘You- you didn’t’ you stammered back. He seemed to be enjoying your little quivers.
‘I feel bad’ he murmured. ‘Mi nena went to, such lengths for me. So I want to give you something too.’
You tensed up with anticipation. Your whole body was on fire, and you couldn’t wait to—
Right in the middle of your fantasizing, Miguel pulled away. You watched as he withdrew and hurried off to the edge of his bed.
‘Ah… Mi- ahem, uh- Miguel?’
He didn’t reply. He was busy pulling out a draw and rummaging through its contents. You watched in a daze.
After a minute or so Miguel finally hurried back to your side, his hand now held behind his back. You tried to put on a grateful smile.
‘Aha, hey, so uh- what, what did you—’
Halfway through speaking he interrupted you again, this time by forcing some unseen object into your palm. It felt cold, whatever it was. Hard and cold. He closed your fist around it with both his hands.
‘For you, mi nena. Okay, now… look.’
Miguel slowly withdrew his hands, allowing you to unfurl your fist.
It was a key. Or, more specifically, a keycard, used to swipe open doors in the HQ. You had one yourself for cleaning people’s private offices, but you’d never seen one like this. You couldn’t help but frown.
‘What- wait, wait is this your— is, this your apartment key?’
Miguel’s affectionate smile was answer enough. You couldn’t hide the flood of excitement and surprise that overcame you.
‘OH! Oh, I- are you sure? Like, really- you’re sure, Mig? I don’t wanna pressure you, like—’
‘I’m sure, nena. I’m very sure.’
‘Oh my god- but, again I just- are you ABSOLUTELY sure?’
Miguel rolled his eyes a little. ‘Yes. Nena, I am sure.’
‘But you’re SURE you’re—MMF!’
In a spontaneous move Miguel bent down and roughly drew you up into a kiss. He was ravenous enough that you dropped his key to the floor, and passionate enough that all your thoughts turned to mush.
You melted into his grip as he pushed you against the counter, uttering the weakest moan you could as he parted your lips and began exploring your mouth with his tongue. The little nips of his fangs, the way his tongue bullied yours until you were drooling down the side of your mouth, it made your legs weak. Luckily his claws were there to hold you up.
‘Mmm- mm!’
Without words he hoisted you into his arms, letting your legs struggle to wrap around his waist. He was too big for you to fit but he was strong enough to hold you regardless, and indeed he relished in the chance to sneak a squeeze at your rear as he did so. Your hands gripped his muscular neck for dear life.
‘Nena—' he hissed between kisses, ‘mi nena- mi nena.’
Your back hit the wall as he pushed you up. He was getting rougher. His teeth kept hitting yours as the make-out grew messy, and his claws were digging small holes into your clothes. You gingerly bit his lip and he returned the favor.
When he pulled back you were panting for air.
‘Mig—f-fuck, Miguel—’
‘No talking’ he barked, pressing a firm kiss to your neck. You arched it back so he could access it more easily, and with an approving grunt he ran his tongue from collarbone to jaw.
‘Unless you’re screaming for me, no words’ he hissed in your ear. ‘I want to show mi nena, why you’re the best gift I could get.’
‘F-Fuck—’
As you tried to catch your breath he pressed his lips to your neck once more, gently kissing from spot to spot as if searching for something.
‘I want- to do something for you, nena. Something you said you wanted.’
‘You—what do you mean—’
He gave you no time to even respond before sinking his heavy fangs into your neck. All you could do was squeak.
It always surprised you just how big he was, how powerful. You felt his teeth moving beneath the skin as his lips sucked, a strange miasma of warmth, stinging pain and pleasure that lulled you into submission.
‘A-Ah- Mig—’
Your mouth fell open into a brainless gasp as he clamped his jaw on your frail skin.
‘Mm- mmm-‘
He let out a muffled moan as he started to slowly seep venom into your blood. The pleasure seemed to be too much for him as well, as he’d started to impatiently dry hump your body into the wall. Now penetrated on his teeth and crushed by his torso, you could do nothing but moan.
After god knows how long he retracted his teeth, carefully licking the wounds he’d left. You whined. You were lightheaded but not paralyzed this time, as it seemed he’d controlled the flow of venom. The rest was drooling down his chin and staining his shirt. He grunted and wiped it on the back of his hand, all while easily maintaining your weight with just one palm.
‘Good girl’ he groaned. ‘You okay?’
You gave a dreamy nod. ‘Y-Yeah… fuck yeah, just- you said, we couldn’t do that. I-It’s too noticeable.’
His self-satisfied grin made you even dizzier. ‘That’s my present to myself’ he purred, carefully admiring his work. Your neck was bruised and red from the hickey, with four clean marks showing his distinctive marking. He kissed each mark. ‘It’ll heal by the time everyone gets back, but, for tonight—’
You tensed as he leaned in, his breath brushing your ear. ‘You’re mine. And I will mark you as such.’
You whimpered at those words, something which stroked his ego to unimaginable degrees. He couldn’t contain his throbbing need any longer.
‘Now- let me give you your second gift’ he purred.
With your body suspended in his hands he began to teasingly rip each piece of clothing aside. He started slow, just using his fangs to gingerly unclasp each button of your blouse, but his cock was throbbing painfully in his pants at this point and the teasing was too much.
He resorted to just ripping it all to shreds, all while whispering that he’d buy you a new outfit.
Once you were fully naked in his palms he allowed his organic webs to stick you to the wall, with legs spread and arms pinned at your sides. He manipulated it to look like a shibari rope, perfectly highlighting each little part of you he loved. He whistled.
‘Gorgeous, nena. Mi nena hermosa.’
You were panting now, flushed and just a little shy to be no more than a display on his wall. You felt his clawed hands sink into your thighs as he patted them, enjoying the way the fat and muscle squeezed between his fingers.
‘Mine’ he whispered.
‘Ah- Mig—’
He crept closer and gently pressed his lips to your spread slit. His arm was hooked around your right leg, holding you close as he breathed you in. The feel of hot air hitting your clit made you squirm.
‘Mine.’
He repeated that word, once, with such vigor it scared you, before finally allowing himself to lick at your cunt. Your breathy moan filled his apartment.
‘Mig, f-fuck—!’
Your whole body shuddered as he began to messily make out with your spread sex, his lips and tongue ravenously moving between starving licks and hard sucking. You watched his head gently arch and bob back and forth with each movement.
Your clit was swollen at this point, with a desperate need to be touched, and each warm, wet, rough flick of his tongue was sending the most gratifying jolts of pleasure through your body.
‘Please, please, more’ you whined.
Miguel had tried to offset his own need by palming at his hard cock over his slacks, but he was just too aroused at this point. With a grunt he pulled back and manically ripped his pants down.
‘Fuck- you’re delicious.’
He jerked at his boxers until his cock sprung forth. You could see the little strings of precum already coating his lower belly and shirt, and internally whined that you didn’t get to lick them off yourself.
You watched as he started to stroke himself, his cock straining in his fist as he returned his tongue to your clit. You knew he was trying to make you jealous.
‘Eyes on me, nena’ he murmured, deliberately speaking close enough that you could feel his full lips moving over your spread sex. You squirmed in the bindings.
‘F-Fuck- you can’t show me that and- tell me not to look.’
He chuckled a little at your insistence. He couldn’t help but indulge. He was so used to despising his amalgamated body that seeing the way you foamed at the mouth for him was both arousing and comforting. He wanted to see you whine and strain, begging for his cock. He wanted to see you eye his muscled body like a starving animal.
‘My poor nena’ he cooed. ‘You want to look that badly?’
You nodded furiously. ‘Please- please, please—’
‘Okay. As you wish.’
With a smug final kiss to your inner thighs Miguel drew back from your body, instead bracing himself before you as he continued to stroke his cock.
You got a perfect view of his body like this, just like you wanted, but as punishment you were left wet and shaking with no stimulation.
‘M-Miguel, come on’ you whined. He shook his head.
‘No, nena, you get what you asked for.’
God, he did look good though. It was all you had to distract yourself from the aching throb of your clit as it begged for release.
You started by honing in on his face. That chiseled jaw, those full lips and narrowed, almond eyes, burning red in the dim light, it was a look that haunted your most perverse dreams nearly every night.
You swallowed hard and allowed your eyes to roam down. His body was just as enticing, after all.
His huge, sloped shoulders rippled as he rolled them, perfectly framing his fat, rounded pecs beneath his shirt. Your eyes drifted to the mounds of his abs, the way his waist and hips dipped in before sloping out to form his heavily muscled thighs.
You wanted to touch him so bad. You wanted your face in those pecs, you wanted your hands stroking the firm, sharp V cut of his pelvis leading down to what you wanted the most. His cock, now straining in his hand, thick and almost alarmingly girthy, its tip already glistening with pre-cum.
You strained in your web a second time.
‘Miggy- please, please, I’ll do anything!’
‘Muy preciosa’ he groaned. His own eyes were roaming now, eagerly gawking at your spread and naked body. You spied his cock throbbing as he looked at you and flushed, your skin glowing beneath the sweat now beading on your temples.
‘F-Fuck… this is so cruel—’
‘It’s what you wanted.’
‘I need you, please—’
‘Be patient, nena.’
He bit his lower lip as he started to peak, his own eyes glued to your spread legs, spying the little drips of slick sliding down from your desperate hole.
It was getting hard for him to hold back. He liked teasing you, yes, but it was almost painful to look and not touch like this. He wanted to bury himself in your hair as he rutted inside you, he wanted to bite your neck as he thrust your body into a mewling mess.
He wanted it. He wanted to penetrate you.
For just a second, in the heat and the passion and the peaking desperation, his mind lapsed. He indulged in that one perverse fantasy he tried his best to hide. He thought about cumming in you, and he thought about it sticking. He thought about cumming in you and knowing it would get you pregnant.
A low shudder ran up from his toes to his head, and he was forced to slow his fist to avoid coating the floor in his seed.
‘Fuck… fuck, okay. Okay. Teasing over.’
With a snap of his teeth he stormed back over and practically buried his face in your cunt. You jolted at the sudden intrusion.
‘M-Miguel—’
Your pleading turned to mewling whines as his full, flat tongue began bullying your clit, eagerly rubbing and stroking that sensitive nub while his hands got busy. With one hand still fisting his cock he allowed the other to slide up and inside you, filling you with two of his fingers.
‘F-Fuck--!’
‘Be good, nena.’
You bit your lip hard as he started to move his calloused fingers in and out. His skin was rough as it stroked your cunt, and he made sure that you felt it. He wanted to feel you, wanted to feel every tensing muscle and throbbing nerve, every wet little inch of that cunt he craved so badly to possess. He wanted to imprint himself on your insides.
As he began to fuck you with his fingers his lips buried themselves back into your folds, sucking ravenously at your clit. The double pressure was too much for you to take.
‘Miggy—fuck, ‘s so good—’
You could see Miguel’s eyes glazing over. It was his favorite thing, to put your pussy on his lips and taste you, to feel your wetness on your tongue. The taste, the sensation, it all made him feel drunk, but it was also so vulnerable of you to let this monster put you inside his mouth.
His soft nena, his sweet nena, letting him eat you out. Letting him coat you in his bodily fluids.
‘Cum for me’ he grunted. His fingers began to speed up. ‘Cum- for- me’ he begged, aggressively licking you between each word.
You had no escape; you obeyed. You climaxed on his mouth almost violently, straining and spasming with each throb of pleasure.
‘Miguel- f-fuck--!’
Miguel groaned as he felt you gush over his fingers. His eyes were hazy, his fangs bared. It was too much.
In a blur he used his claws to crawl up the wall, positioning himself so that his pelvis fell between your legs. He pushed down and began furiously grinding his bare cock against your clit, ridding out your orgasm with you.
‘F-Fuck, careful- c-careful, its- sensitive- m-mm—’
Your pleading went unheard over his panic panting and grunting. You lay back and let him grind out his frustration, his need, and allowed yourself instead to lull in the pleasure of his overstimulation.
‘So… fucking, good… soft little nena, fuck- you’re delicious.’
With a soft whine Miguel dropped back down, idly cutting you free as he went. He caught your body bridal style.
‘Ah- well, I-I think your present beat mine’ you panted. You were still lightheaded from cumming and had a dumb little dreamy smile on your face, and all you could think to do was tease him.
Miguel didn’t laugh. Without a word he carried your body across the apartment.
‘Ah- Miggy?’
Miguel gently put your body on the ground, allowing you to steady yourself before moving away.
‘Put this on.’
You jumped as he began manically pulling one of his shirts over your head, one so large on you that it looked like a dress. The moment your arms were through the holes he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder again.
‘M-Mig? What- what are we doing?’
You oomphed as he lowered you back to the floor and spun you around. Your eyes widened; you were pressed right against the open window wall of his apartment. He pressed you into it, hard enough that your breasts and belly were squished against the cool glass. Even with the t-shirt on it was cold.
‘I’m showing off my soft little thing’ Miguel purred. You realized, then, that he was stripping the last of his clothes off behind you.
‘Mig—’
‘Not completely, of course’ he whispered in your ear. ‘Only I get to look at you naked. But… I will happily demonstrate that you’re mine.’
With another low grunt he lifted you back up. He kept one arm braced around your waist and the other on your inner right thigh, spreading your legs apart as he lifted you to the exact right height. The perfect height, where his hips could slot in against your rear and his cock could brush up against your slit.
You let out a soft pant. You were horrified about being seen like this, but, were you? Was it not causing your post-orgasm body to throb with absolute delight? Was it not causing our insides to tense with desire?
After all, you wanted to be his, didn’t you? You wanted that mark on your neck. You liked the idea, secretly, of everyone knowing what he’d done to you. You started to tremble with excitement.
His breath stirred your hair as he adjusted his stance. You could feel his bulbous member nudging at your pussy, begging it to take him.
‘Miggy- fuck, please, please do it.’ Your hole was clenching around nothing, desperate to be filled. Miguel chuckled.
‘What do you want?’
‘I want- I want you to fuck me.’
‘Who do you want to fuck you?’
‘F-Fuck- ah, M-Miguel, I want you to fuck me, please—’
The breath was knocked from your lungs as he forced his cock inside you. He had to push a few times to get deeper, gently but urgently coaxing your muscles to loosen up, but with a final sigh he pushed in and bottomed out. You winced, your fingers scraping on the glass.
‘Mm- good girl nena, that’s it. Just- stay still for me. You’ll adjust. Good girl. Good girl.’ He was already panting, his chest heaving like a drowning man taking that lifesaving breath.
You bit your lip until it bled. God, you could feel him sliding around inside you. His little explorative slips were creating the most toe-curling sounds; soft, wet squishing noises, mixed with the soft slap where he’d bottomed out and was hitting his pelvis against your rear.
‘You like that, nena?’
You manically nodded your head. ‘M-Mhm, mhm.’
Your legs were shaking. He was deep enough to hurt, deep enough that whenever you moved even an inch you could feel his cock pressing into those soft walls. He was stretching you hard; he’d filled all the space available and then forced you to make more. How did you keep forgetting how large he was?
‘Good, good.’ Miguel stretched his neck and settled himself into a more comfortable position. With both hands bracing your waist and hips, he angled himself to start thrusting. ‘Now, stay like that, and let’s give them a good show, eh?’
Before you could respond he’d started to fuck you, his hips bucking to get deeper. You moaned aloud.
He was rough from the start, eagerly rutting against your rear in a way that made the most erotic smacking sound. The glass was cold on your bare chest and belly as he pushed you up against it.
‘M-Miguel—’
‘Shh, you’re doing good nena. You- feel so, so good.’
His breath condensed against the glass with each hard pump he took. Each rhythmic thrust was perfectly timed with his hot, heavy panting.
‘Fuck… fuck, you’re- so big—’ Your attempt at praise was jolting into fragments, as each hard slip of his cock was enough to wind you completely. Miguel’s grip tightened as he pushed you harder against the glass.
‘You’re so small, nena’ he purred. ‘How do you take it so well?’
You mewled as he angled himself to kiss your cervix, a sensation that ached while still being unbearably pleasurable. Your body was like a limp doll in his hands, stretched and fitted to his massive girth.
‘You’re mine’ he groaned.
‘You’re mine. Mine- mine—’
He gave three hard thrusts to match each utterance of his claim over you, each once drawing another loud moan from you. The city lights blazed around your body as he held you up and rutted between your legs.
‘Mine—mine—’
Through the snow it was hard to tell if anyone could have seen you. Someone in one of the skyscrapers across the road could certainly get a view of your silhouette’s manically fucking against the window, and that was enough to make you clench.
You wanted to be his. You were his.
But then, right on the cusp of some utterly gratifying peak, Miguel pulled out of you. His cock sent a pool of slick dribbling down your thighs to the floor where it formed a small puddle, an embarrassing display of how much you’d been squirting.
Usually Miguel would have teased you for it, but he was manic right now.
‘Fuck it- I need to look at you.’
He pulled your body up bridal style and carried you back over to his unmade mattress, throwing you onto it with little delicacy or thought. He was too horny for that.
Now on your back he ripped his own shirt from your body and threw it aside. You didn’t even get a chance to speak. All you could do was moan as he split your legs apart and pushed in between them, easily slipping his girthy shaft back inside you with a guttural groan.
‘Fuck- fuck, you look so good.’
His eyes were fixed on you as he started to rut again, his hips bucking and smacking your pelvis until it was numb. Your hands flew up to his neck where you held on as hard as you could.
He wanted it all. He watched each part of you that bounced when he thrust into you. He watched your eyes roll and your coy little lip bites when your cunt squelched for him. He watched the way you winced and mewled when he kissed your cervix with his cock. His hands suddenly grabbed your wrists and pinned them down, forcing you to face him.
‘You like that, nena?’
‘Ye- f-fuck- yes, y-yes—’
You’d been fucked dumb at this point. You could barely get a word out. Miguel smirked.
‘Are you mine?’ he barked.
‘Yes.’
‘Say it.’
‘I-I’m yours, Miguel.’
His fangs flexed as he started to thrust harder. He pulled out all the way and then snapped his hips, penetrating your sopping pussy as deep as he could, until the overstimulation became too much for you and he resorted to just roughly humping with short, fast thrusts while halfway inside.
You were pathetic at this point. You’d drooled on his pillow and your slick was pooling on the unmade sheets. You’d cum a second time during his erratic thrusting, but you hadn’t even had the strength to tell him. All you could do was worship, meekly moaning his name with each thrust.
‘Miguel—Miguel—Miguel—’
Once again, on the verge of climax, Miguel indulged. He just couldn’t stop that intrusive fantasy.
He pictured himself somewhere else, anywhere but here, holding you down in his hands as he fucked to completion. You were his, all his, and he didn’t have to hide you or fear you. Perhaps you were his wife, or fiancé at the least. He could be your husband. He was yours, and you were all his, and now he was going to finish in you. He was going to breed your perfect little body. He was going to get you pregnant, because you wanted him, and you wanted to carry his babies.
He bent back to watch his cock as it penetrated. He was thrusting hard and thrusting fast, desperately pumping back and forth.
‘Mi nena’ he whined. ‘I’m going to cum in you now, okay?’
You felt every curve, every inch, every throb as he got closer to his own climax. You could tell he was close because he was getting erratic. His rhythmic pumps were becoming animalistic.
‘A-Ah- please, Miggy, fuck- please cum in me.’
Your hands scrabbled to hold onto anything as his groans got louder. Those words from you were too much for him to handle.
‘Gonna- cum in you- so hard—’
‘Miguel!’
With one extra loud groan he ejaculated, thrusting hard with each spurt to ensure it got as deep as possible. He wanted you to take it all, and you did. You were frozen in place, trapped, taking every inch of the larger man’s load. Those thick, white ropes filled every inch, all warm and wet and heavy.
Miguel whined as his thrusts slowed, until at last he rocked to a halt.
He’d done it again. He’d slipped back into the fantasy, imagining just briefly as his orgasm took over that he was breeding you. Now as he struggled to catch his breath, he felt that lingering guilt and shame.
Luckily, he had you here to wash away that guilt. He looked down and watched you pant beneath him, your lips parted and eyes utterly glazed over. Your muffled moans of satisfaction filled him with pride.
‘Good girl’ he whispered. He bent and pressed a kiss to your sweaty forehead. ‘I didn’t hurt you, did I?’
‘N-No, no, it… mm…’
You tried to speak but quickly collapsed again into a mushy pile of pleasure and exhaustion, something Miguel found very privately amusing.
‘Alright, just- stay still, I’ll, get you a towel.’
Miguel slid out of you carefully. He watched his seed drip out as he pulled away, clinging to his shaft and pooling from your hole. He heard you give another muffled moan as he released you from the heavy weight of his cock.
God it made him dizzy. Even knowing that it couldn’t do what he wanted it to do, it still made him rabid. As he pulled out fully he couldn’t help himself; he used two fingers to sneakily push some of his cum back inside you. It felt wrong, yes, but it felt too good to not do. It sent shivers up his spine, and even post-orgasm his cock twitched as he watched himself stuffing you with it.
With that guilty indulgence out of the way he did then do what he’d promised, pulling on his boxers and rushing to find you a towel while you lay face down in his bed. When he returned after a few minutes of looking for a clean one, you were still in the same position.
‘Nena?’
You awkwardly waved your hand to show you were alive. Miguel chuckled again. He gently bent at the knee and helped clean the mess he’d made of your thighs, all while you moaned and shifted in the sheets. He quickly tossed the used towel onto the pile already filling his hamper before crawling back into bed with you.
‘Mi nena.’ He immediately shoved his face into your hair, breathing in your scent. You squirmed until you were pressed right against him.
‘Hey there, bestie.’
Miguel snorted a laugh. ‘Alright. Fine. I did say you could do it in private.’
‘Mhm.’
With a sigh Miguel rolled onto his back and puffed up the pillows at his back, allowing him to lie slightly propped up while you clung to his side. You nestled your cheek into his pec as your arm explored his belly.
You weren’t sure how long you dozed beside him. There was something especially comforting about lying side by side, completely naked and alone beneath a thin sheet, slowly warming yourselves off of each other’s body heat.
You were so cozy, for lack of a better word. You were safe, warm, wanted. And so was he.
As the sky turned dark and the snow gained a ghostly glow against the windowpane, Miguel gently shook you awake.
‘Hey, nena?’
You rolled your eyes up to his face.
‘Yeah?’
‘You awake?’
‘Well I am now.’
Miguel’s half-smile betrayed just how uncommon it was for him to smile anymore, but as he watched your grumpy little face nestle into his chest it became a little easier to do.
‘I… ah, okay. How do I say this…’
He smooshed his cheek as he gazed into the distance, his foot nervously tapping on the mattress edge. You tilted your head.
‘You okay?’
He shot you a glance as his hand came down to his jaw. There was a strange intensity to his eyes that took you off guard.
‘Mig?’
Slowly, bit by bit, that smile returned. It was strained, yes, but soft as well.
‘I like you’ he said. You blinked.
‘You… what?’
‘I like you’ Miguel repeated. He sounded a little more confident this time. ‘I… I like you a lot.’
You blinked again, unsure of how to respond. You defaulted to that same awkward, lopsided smile he’d given you earlier. ‘Aha, oh boy. Uh- I mean I like you too, but that’s a bit—’
‘No, no.’
Your eyes widened as he put a claw to your lips, smooshing them shut. As he smiled at you again he tilted his head, a move so adorable it made you squeak. It was so oddly vulnerable to see such a huge, chiseled man beaming with his head tilted like a curious dog.
‘No. I know what you’re thinking. That’s what someone says when they don’t want to admit they love someone. It’s a cop out, right?’
You shyly nodded and shrugged, trying to downplay how you’d felt, but he didn’t seem offput. His smile widened.
‘I don’t mean it like that, and I can prove it, but- first, just hear me out, okay?’
You nodded again, and watched as Miguel withdrew his claws from your mouth. He slid them down your lips to your chin, carefully resting that hooked, curved point on the soft fat beneath, and with the slightest of ease he tilted you to meet his gaze.
‘I like you’ he said softly. ‘I like you, just- as a person. And I don’t know the last time I’ve admitted that. I’ve met… thousands, millions of people, across a thousand universes, and in maybe 0.001% of cases I realize, I like this person.’
You felt your cheeks glowing under the intensity of his stare.
‘But I like you, and worse, I like you so much more than any of them. You’re so, kind, and carefree, and interesting and funny and... I used to think you were naïve, but you’re not. You’re worried, all the time, like me, but you try so hard to still be kind. I don’t get how you do it. Maybe I never will, but- I admire it. I adore it. And, I adore you. You’re just, so… so, ah- what’s the word…’
‘Soft?’ you mumbled. He actually let out a soft chuckle at that, and this one wasn’t sarcastic.
‘Yeah. You’re soft. My… soft, thing.’
You felt the heat growing in your face, and with it the glow increased. You pouted to try and offset how obvious it was that you were fawning over him.
‘I- I like you too, beautiful man’ you replied.
Miguel’s smile widened until you could see his fangs. For just a brief moment, you watched those soft smile lines erase all the hard, angry wrinkles in his face, revealing a strange vulnerability beneath.
‘I love you, nena’ he whispered.
You were mortified. Not from the words, but from your reaction. A high-pitched whine escaped your throat as your whole body tensed, your heart thundering in your chest, and as you tried to bite it all down at once you nearly made yourself sick. It must have shown because Miguel’s smile immediately dropped.
‘Ah, nena, are you—’
‘YEAH I’M GOOD! I’M—FUCK—I LOVE YOU TOO!’ you stammered in a manic cry.
Miguel looked a little offput at first, clearly confused, but it quickly dawned in him that you were panicking. He snorted back a laugh as you buried your face in your hands.
‘Oh my god I’m so sorry—’
‘No, nena, you didn’t do anything wrong’ Miguel soothed. He put a hand on your back and began to rub, all while you continued to make muffled apologies into your palms. ‘You’re all good.’
‘I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry—’
‘Why are you sorry, nena?’ he asked. You felt him put a sympathetic cheek against the crown of your head. ‘Do you have any idea how happy that made me?’
When you continued to whine Miguel opted to just grab you, pulling your whole body into a tight embrace. He forced your head between his pecs and your arms to his chest, while his muscular legs came around to encapsulate your own.
As the snow swirled outside he cradled you against him, warm and safe, totally cut off from the rest of the world. You felt your eyelids drooping.
‘I love you’ you whispered. Miguel fought the urge to cry.
‘I love you too.’
Somewhere a clock chimed, beeping to indicate that midnight had passed.
‘Merry Christmas, Mig’ you whispered into his chest. He squeezed you a little tighter.
‘Merry Christmas, nena.’
#miguel o'hara#miguel x reader#spider man 2099#long read#a fortunate mistake#fem reader#x reader#miguel o'hara x you#miguel o'hara x reader#smut with plot#smut and fluff#christmas fluff fic
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Cold weather: Aaron Hotchner x reader
Christmas bingo day 14 : cold weather
~Oh, the weather outside is frightful…~
“Turn it down.”
“Well, it’s not like the song has nothing to do with reality-“ Y/N retorted not really listening to Hotch’s command “it is particularly cold weather today.”
The words she used were quite an understatement. When the BAU team (strengthen by the fellow DA in the person of Y/N) left for yet another field action, there was no premonition of the upcoming blizzard and the temperature drop. Currently, it was hard to drive due to the heavy snowfall, but neither Y/N nor Derek seemed to be bothered by it. Maybe it was because they were both the passengers, but seemingly nothing could destroy their Christmas spirit, not even an unhinged killer on the loose. Obviously they were professional, as always, but their humour and attitude were something the chief of the unit were struggling to put up with, leaving him wondering why did he even choose those two to come with in the first place.
“Turn it down.” This time it was far more stern, even for Aaron.
“Are you a Grinch now, Hotch?” Morgan grinned from the back seat, earning nothing more than a single grunt from his boss and turning the radio off. “Come on!”
“We’re at work.”
“So what?” Derek whined “working as the profiler does not come along with being gloomy during Christmas time-“
“Morgan!” Y/N felt the need to intervene upon noticing slight, almost untraceable frown on Hotch’s face “enough.”
“Oh, so you’re siding with the boss now, Y/N?” the fellow agent leaned forward from behind the seat “Just so you know, sunshine, that’s treason.”
“He’s not my boss. I’m independent of FBI And what you just said is a slander. Pretty sure is punishable.”
“don’t give me the DA talk, Y/N. Besides-” her friend’s smile only grew wider as he moved to whisper in her ear “are you sure you are not biased because of someone’s presence?”
“Enough. Both of you.” Hotch silenced them way more effectively by pulling off the car, showing his discomfort with the subject of the conversation. Of course he knew, he was a profiler for god’s sake. “We’re here.”
Three other cars were already parked nearby and the rest of the team were waiting Obviously, the crime scene was the open area and they were going to investigate and look for clues during a snowstorm, in the cold, and almost in the dark.
“Tell me again, whose idea was it to come here right away? There is no chance we are going to find anything.” Morgan almost rolled his eyes at the nonsense of the action.
“Not with that attitude, Morgan.” Hotch muttered growlingly, turning up the collar of his coat “You could have stayed at the precinct if you’re just going to complain.”
“Can I still get back there?”
“Guys! Come and see this!” the only excited person present, Spencer, called from the side of the trees, already invested in the searching, standing knee-deep in the snow inspecting something that might have been a trace as well as some irrelevant dust brought by the wind.
“What you got there, kiddo?” Morgan almost instantly moved toward the direction from with Spencer’s voice was coming. He was surprisingly protective of the young doctor. Added value, that he finally left Y/N and the BAU boss alone.
“Cold?” Hotch asked
“What? Cold? Me? No. Not really. Not at all.” She shivered from an icy gust of wind.
“You’re shaking.”
“Am I? Really? Didn’t notice.” sticking hands in her pockets did not bring the intended effect at all.
“Maybe you should be the one heading back instead of Morgan?”
“No way! It’s my job to-“
“You’re the DA. There’s no body here. You’re useless here.”
Oh. Oh damn, that hurt.
“Useless?” she frowned feeling her cheeks flustering from the sudden rush of emotions, unable to hide it “Well I;m pretty sure if you keep dragging your team through the frozen lake in search for clues we will have a corpse in no time.”
Hotch raised an eyebrow.
“Wonder who will be useless then.” She scoffed and walked past him to join the rest of the BAU. However, she didn’t get far when a sudden grip on her hand made her stop in her tracks.
“You’re wasting time.” Hotch pointed out roughly, pulling her along, sticking her gloveless hand in the pocket of his coat, entwining their fingers, effectively hiding the fact from the view.
***
“What got into your head?” he was fuming an hour later, his fiery gaze focused on her shaking silhouette covered by the thickest blanket they could find at the provincial precinct, sitting next to the radiator with the steaming cup of chamomile tea in her hands. “If you were my subordinate-“
“Good thing I am not then, agent Hotchner.” She cut him off with a mocking, teasing look.“Proved my point. Both of them, actually.” Yes, jumping to save Spencer, who turned out to be an unfortunate person under whom the ice broke, may not have been rational, but it was certainly heroic. “we almost had another body. And hey, guess I am not useless after all.”
“We’ll see. But I might see some potential to keep you around.” Maybe it was an optic illusion but it seemed like the left corner of his mouth lifted slightly.
“For work?” she smirked
“Yes.”
That piercing gaze were getting a little bit uncomfortable so just to cover for the additional shaking of her hands (not from the cold) she took a sip of her drink.
“L/N?”
“Hm?”
“You should use more hand cream. Your skin is scabrous.”
What the hell was he hinting at?!
@somest1
#aaron hotchner x reader#hotch x reader#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner fluff#aaron hotchner fanfiction#criminal minds x reader#christmas bingo
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Time
Jensen x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Language, Sadness, Heartache, injuries, Blood, Sweet Caring Jensen
{I know, doesn't seem really Christmasy haha, sorry, not sorry.}
Words: 2,252
Main Masterlist - Patreon
She spent the day putting up her tree and decorating her apartment, keeping busy and trying to keep her mind off other things. She desperately wanted to feel the spirit of Christmas, feel excited and cheerful, but those moments didn’t last long unfortunately. Even with lights hanging throughout the space, her tree bright green and sparkling with twinkling white bulbs, she just wasn’t feeling it.
She was sucked in by the lights on the tree as they took turns lighting up, a few knocks going unnoticed as she was spacing out, lost in her thoughts. It takes a few more attempts from her visitor before she finally gets pulled out of her trance and hears the thuds against her door.
Glancing down at the glass in her hand, the melted ice tells her that she’s been spacing out for a lot longer than she thought, but that doesn’t surprise her honestly. Setting her holiday drink on the table, she moves towards her door where a few more knocks come through. Peeking through the peephole, she grows a bit confused when she sees who it is and quickly pulls on the locks to reveal her friend on the other side. He gets startled after the long dragged out silence but smiles when they lock eyes nonetheless.
“Hey! I was beginning to think you weren’t home.”
“No, I just um…” she pauses, looking back into her apartment to where she was glued just seconds ago. “I’m sorry.” she apologizes in a quiet breath, hesitating to look her visitor in the eye before changing the subject. “What are you doing here? I thought that you were in New Mexico working on…” When she can’t continue her sentence he raises his brow, a smartass smirk growing on his face.
“Big Sky?”
“Yes! That.” She looked embarrassed as she couldn’t remember the name of the show he was currently involved with.
“Well, it’s nice to know that you’re so into it.” he tells her, the sarcasm not going unnoticed.
“Hey, I’ve been busy.” she counters, letting him in the apartment. “And I’m halfway through season two now, so…”
“So…you haven’t even made it to my episode. Good to know.”
“Did you just come here to give me a hard time? Because I’ve had enough of that this year.” Her tone changes as she closes the door. “Best friend or not, I’m just not in the mood.” As she roughly rubs at her eyes, his heart sinks. The relationship he has with her has always been playful. It was his job to mess with her and it always made her smile, but sadly he has underestimated the pain she has taken on in the last year and hasn’t adjusted his teasing accordingly.
Her body flinches just a tad when he slides his arms around her, but she quickly melts into him, dropping her arms into his chest and letting him squeeze her tight.
“I’m sorry.” he whispers faintly, kissing her temple sweetly but never loosens his grip. He feels her relax more in his arms, the tension he could feel in her entire body slowly slipping away the longer he holds her. Minutes pass and he doesn’t know how many, but honestly doesn’t care. But what she says next fills his heart with pride.
“I needed one of your hugs today.” He can hear the emotion in her voice but knowing that he was able to bring something good to her keeps his happiness up. “How do you do it?”
“Do what?”
“You always seem to know when I need you the most and I don’t get it.” Jensen smirks, his pride only being fueled more.
“Magic.” he tells her as he pulls away, locking eyes with her. “If I told you my secret, I’d have to kill you.”
“Please, do.” She comes back with a not so sarcastic response and Jensen just has to remind himself that pain and anger makes people say that kind of stuff. It wasn’t long ago that he felt the same way.
“Can’t do that. Sorry.”
“Why?” she whines, dropping her head to his chest.
“Because you mean too much to me.” he says simply, but the feelings behind it are anything but. Which in turn makes the next few moments painful even for him.
She scoffs and pulls away from him, moving towards the table where her drink waits, the ice practically gone now.
“With the group of friends you have? Trust me, you won’t be missing me long.” He swallows back his initial reaction, pushing the sting his heart took way down and attempts to forget about it.
“You’re wrong.” There’s no joking in his gaze now, not that she expected it. But she doesn’t see that look often and it was definitely one that hit her hard. “Listen,” he starts before taking a few steps closer to her. “I know what you’re going through is hard and I know you’re hurting, but I promise that it will get better.” Honestly, he expected an eye roll or something, but it seemed that she understood he was being serious. “He may not know what he lost but we do, and we won’t make that same mistake.” Her eyes dropped to her drink, emotions coming to the surface again. He’s not sure what to say now because he’s finally let go of some of the things he’s been holding in. At least the more appropriate things. But as he scans the apartment and sees the tree all dressed up in the corner, he smiles, grateful that you were able to at least decorate for the holiday.
“It looks great.” he points out, stepping around her to get closer to the holiday staple. “I was afraid you weren’t going to decorate at all.” he admits, not taking his eyes off the twinkling lights.
“I almost didn’t.” she confesses, not moving from her spot. “But, I was hoping that it would help pull me out of this a little bit.”
“I think it will.” he nods softly as he turns back to face her.
“I don’t know about that.” she tells him, emotion heavy in her voice. “It hasn’t done anything so far.”
“Just give it time.”
“Ugh.” she grunts heavily, spinning around to make her way into the kitchen. “Time. It’s always about time, right!?” She raises her voice a bit as she makes it to the counter and pours more alcohol into her glass. “After being torn away from your family as a kid, give it time. You lose someone you love, give it time. Your husband cheats on you and throws away sixteen years of your life, give it time!” she cries, tears slipping from her eyes as Jensen makes his way towards her. Her body trembles from anger but she tosses back the liquid she just added to the glass, not really bothered by the strength of the drink. “You know what they all have in common, Jay!? No matter how much time you give them, they never go away! Ever!” she screams, slamming her glass down onto the counter as the anger she was feeling made her lose all control over her actions. Seeing this, Jensen surges forward but it all happens way too fast.
The second the glass touches the counter top, it shatters. Chunks of the glistening pieces fly across the counter in all directions, falling to the floor and sliding with their momentum. But it was the painful cry that Jensen was focused on. Glass crunched under his boots as he rushed to her side, blood dripping onto the counter and the fallen shards of glass as she raised her hand to see what she just did to herself.
“Let me see.” Fully concerned, he reaches for her hand, gentle so as not to hurt her more than she already was. She quietly huffs and moans in pain as he inspects it. It takes him a moment to see how bad it is and he becomes grateful when it doesn’t look like she needs stitches, but he does see a piece of glass sticking out from her wound. He glances up briefly, seeing that she’s only focusing on the cut. “Hold still.” he tells her before carefully removing the shard from her hand. She hisses in pain but it needed to be done. “Here, come here.” Keeping her hand elevated, he swipes the towel from the counter and then escorts her into the living room, helping her onto the couch. “Keep it up, I’ll be right back.”
Careful not to slip on the glass near the kitchen, Jensen rushes down the hall and into her room. He’s gone maybe thirty seconds, if that. He’s been in her house before, he knows where everything is. Especially the first aid kit. This wasn’t the first time he had to patch her up after hurting herself, but this definitely was the worst injury he’s had to help her with.
“Alright, let me see.” he says as he re-enters the room. Grabbing onto your coffee table, he pulls it closer to the couch and then takes a seat, situating himself so that he could fix you up without having you stretch your arm out too far.
“I’m sorry.” you whimper softly and he glances up through his lashes before focusing back on your hand.
“You don’t have to be sorry.” It falls silent after that for a bit. She flinches a few times as he cleans up the wound and checks to see if any more glass was hiding inside, but otherwise he gets it as clean as he can and then starts to bandage it up.
“You’re right.” he finally breaks the silence, not looking up from his task as he continues. “It never does go away.” he admits and then falls quiet again. But only for a minute or two. “But, eventually you will get to a place where you won’t think about it as much. And if you do, it won’t hurt as bad as it does now.” Silent sobs shake her body a bit as she listens to him, the pain of what she’s been through tearing through her more than that glass did to her hand. “Listen,” he says as he tapes off the bandage, making sure it’s secure and then he looks up at her. “Your scumbag husband lost his fucking mind.” The anger is visible in his gaze, but she knows it’s not meant for her. “To have one of the most amazing women on this planet choose him and love him and do anything for him just to turn around and…” his jaw locks as he reminds himself to keep calm. But that’s just something he can’t do fully.
“Fuck him. Okay? You deserve a million times better than him. You deserve someone who cares about you and takes care of you just as much as you do for them. No more of this eighty, twenty shit, you hear me?” Tears continue to slip from her eyes and though he knows they won’t stop, he reaches up and wipes a few away anyway. “So, yeah, it’s going to take time and it’s going to hurt like hell, but I swear to you, somewhere down the road you are going to look back at this and see how much of a blessing this was. You’re going to be able to wake up every morning and not feel like death when you roll out of bed. You’ll be able to drive home, take showers and fall asleep without crying every time. Right now, it doesn’t seem possible, I know, but it will happen. I promise you.”
Silence fills the apartment after that. The two of them soaking in the speech and just letting the moment be for a minute. Then Jensen reaches up and wipes away her tears again, this time clearing her face as no more were falling at the moment.
“Ready to get some sleep?” Unable to speak, she just nods softly. “Alright.” pushing himself up from the table, he helps her up and escorts her to the edge of the kitchen. “Why don’t you go and climb in bed, I’m gonna…” he pauses, looking over all the glass everywhere. “I’m gonna clean this up.” When he looks back at her, he gives her his best grin. She takes it and slowly turns and starts walking down the hall, but she stops a few feet away, looking back at the man in the kitchen, setting the dustpan on the counter and beginning to sweep the floor.
“Jensen?” Hearing his name, he stops. “Thank you.” A smile grows on his face and he sends her a nod. But when she doesn’t move, he pushes her a bit.
“Go on. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” This time, he watches her walk down the hall and disappear into her room.
The feelings he’s harbored for her for so long now have a chance to come out, but he has to hold them back for a while longer. Yes, she may be single now, but with the healing that she has to go through, he can’t be jumping in the deep end right away. The last thing he wants is to become the rebound or end up hurting her even more because he gave into his desires too soon.
He loves that woman, more than he realizes to be honest. So the only way to keep her is to wait. To give it time.
#Time#Christmas#jensen ackles#jensen fanfic#jensen fanfiction#jensen x reader#jensen x female reader#jensen ackles x reader#jensen ackles x female reader#jensen fic#jensen ackles fic#jensen ackles fanfic#jensen ackles fanfiction#supernatural#supernatural fanfiction#supernatural fic#supernatural fanfic#supernatural rpf
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i. incandescent glow
summary: have you ever been so alone you spend the day confusing a man in a coma?
pairing: assumed e.m x reader, eventual s.h x reader
warnings: my blog is 18+ MDNI; mutual pining, yearning, miscommunication, poorly-wired idiot signals, vague nineties vibes, asshole-ish rockstar eddie, best friend & store manager steve, drug abuse, comas and hospitals, found family, hop and wayne knocking sense into people, eventual smut, schmaltzy rom-com goodness, mention of thanksgiving, christmas, and new year's holidays
w.c.: 8.2k
a/n: when I say that writing this kicked my ass, I'm tellin' you I had a rough time. @bettyfrommars this flannel-wearing Steve is for you especially! Please enjoy & I hope y'all like it 🥹
series m.list | playlist | currently spinning:
Steve hadn’t planned for his life to amount to this, he’d simply blinked and found himself in a new decade, still rewinding tapes at Family Video. Granted, he’s district manager now and has several stores in the area he’s responsible for.
Meanwhile, Eddie got the hell outta dodge and Corroded Coffin actually made something of themselves. Two albums under their belt and a forth-coming world tour after the holidays, and, more recently, a cover on the Rolling Stone. Ed had called him up once it was all finalized, “Can you fuckin’ believe it man?!”
And, Steve loves Eddie, so he could actually believe it. He tries and fails to keep his jealousy at bay, Ed is one of his best friends for christ sakes. Steve is happy for him, he really is, despite the revolving doors at rehab centers dotting the west coast, late night calls from strangers because Munson passed out in someone’s bathroom again.
He is, after all, Eddie’s emergency contact. Gareth approached him after the second stint at rehab and suggested it, thought it would be the best all things considered. Steve readily agreed and signed the forms, kept his pager on him, and dutifully smoothed things over when Eddie’s benders got a bit too much.
So, he’s rewinding tapes when his pager goes off. He glances at the number and drags the phone across the counter. Nestling the handset between his shoulder and cheek, he punches in the numbers and shoves the tape in a plastic case to be shelved later.
“Hello, this is Hawkins Memorial Hospital. How may I direct your call?” a kind, if perfunctory voice recites. He can hear the hustle and bustle of the hospital waiting room, muted conversations and the ringing of phones.
“Hi, this is Steve Harrington. I received a page from this number regarding Eddie Munson.” Steve eyes the clock, he’s on closing shift by himself already having sent he employees home to celebrate with their families.
“Yes, one moment please.” The receptionist places him on hold, allowing Steve to rewind a couple more tapes and sort them for shelving. “Mr. Harrington?” the line roars back to life, no longer the receptionist, but the doctor in charge of Eddie’s care instead. “Mr. Munson came into the hospital unresponsive but breathing, he was revived by a…” He rattles off a name that Steve has never heard before. “His, fiancée, as I understand it.”
Steve feels the floor sway under his feet.
Eddie.
With a fiancée?
“She’s here now and in a bit of shock, as you can expect. Since you’re his emergency contact, we wanted to alert you of his current state as well as get any contact information for family and friends that need to be made aware.”
“Oh, uh, sure.”
The doctor continues to relay that they’ve elected to place Eddie under a medically induced coma for the time being, to allow his body to flush the drugs from his system before assessing for any further damage.
Steve is transferred to a medical assistant who takes down Wayne and Hopper’s information. He figures between the two men the job will get done, but let’s be real, it’ll be Joyce that activates the phone tree and calls the kids, and he plans to swing by the hospital later that evening once he’s closed up.
Grabbing the stack of tapes and begins to shelve them with a shake of his head. It would be just like Eddie to get engaged and not be fucked to tell anyone. Returning to the counter, he fiddles with the cuffs of his flannel shirt— Robin got it for him the last time she swung through town, insisted that Steve’s wardrobe needed some serious upgrading and all but thrust it upon him.
“It brings out your eyes,” She said, leaning against the wall outside the dressing room. Her worn boots kicked against one another, half of her reflected in the mirror while Steve assessed.
“It’s brown.”
“And gold!” She turns him around to press down the collar and pop the first two buttons of the shirt open. “It’s color theory man, just trust me on this, okay?”
Which is how Steve found himself the new owner of several flannel shirts of varying hues. And boots. When he complained it was all too lumberjack-like, Robin shushed him and continued to flirt with the cute check-out girl.
But that had been months ago. It was coming on Thanksgiving now and his two best friends had been too busy traveling or showing art pieces to even call. He doesn’t mind, not really— well, he tries not to. Steve gets it, people are busy, things to do and people to see.
The remainder of his shift goes by slowly. Kids home from school, families coming in by the dozen. Steve manages to complete a few menial tasks in between customers, throws on Planes, Trains and Automobiles just to have something on in the background.
He’s helping a regular when his pager beeps again, this time flashing Robin’s number. The door dings as they leave and Steve’s already wedged the phone to balance against his shoulder once more as he leans and elbow on the counter.
“Eddie has a fiancée?!” is the thing she screeches down the line. “When the fuck did that happen? Harrington, you’re supposed to keep me aware of these things!”
He signs and scrubs a hand down his face, “I’m his emergency contact, not his guardian.”
“Have you met her? What’s she like?”
“I don’t—”
“I got the first flight out of the city. Which means I had to go to LaGuardia blech,” She makes a gagging sound down the line. “Jonathan’s picking me up now from Indy. Oh my god, is she pretty?” Robin pings between her travel plans and hypothesizing about Eddie’s girl, “I bet she’s a total knock-out, knowing him. How did they meet? D’ya think she’d pose for me?”
“Slow down there, killer.” Steve laughs, “Might want to meet the girl first before propositioning her.”
She huffs a laugh, “You’re right, of course. She’d probably think I’m insane or something. What would I do without you Stevie?”
“Probably scare off more chicks than you already do.”
“Oh, go fuck yourself Harrington.” Robin’s laugh is loud and warm, soothing something in his gut. “I’ll see you tonight, dingus.”
“Sure, stay safe. Call me later, bye.” He places the phone back in its cradle and has half a mind to check the room behind the curtain, just in case some teenagers slipped past without him noticing, but then the phone rings.
“Thank you for calling Family Video, this is Steve. How may I help you?”
“Uh, hi.” A voice says down the line, small and tight. You introduce yourself, quickly followed by, “I’m at the hospital, with, uh Eddie?”
“Oh! Hi, how’s he doing?”
“Good, still in the coma.”
Steve can hear some voices filtering through the mic, loud and familiar.
“So, Hop and Wayne made it? That’s good.”
“Yeah, yeah, Joyce too. The kids are here too, I guess? It’s all a bit overwhelming.”
He huffs a laugh, “Yeah, I can only imagine.” He occupies himself with the slinky on the counter, much preferring to hear your voice than deal with the families that just walked in, ten minutes to close. “You holding up okay?”
An intake of breath, “Mmhm.”
It’s a feeling he knows well.
You’re overwhelmed by all these people you’d never met, on top of the fact that your fiancee is in a coma. Steve feels like shit, having you handle all of that by yourself. If he hadn’t stupidly sent the mid-shift employees home early, he would have been there to help you navigate it all.
“Joyce wants to know if you’re coming by after work. If we should wait for you,” You say after a beat or two of silence, “Or if you’ll just meet us at the house for Thanksgiving tomorrow?”
Steve rolls his neck in an effort to relieve the built-up tension there, bones popping, he rubs a hand at the nape of his neck. “Could you put her on real quick?”
He listens as the phone changes hands and Joyce’s comforting voice intones, “Steve?”
“She’s freaking out.”
“What?”
He sighs, “The fiancée, she sounds like she’s in a bad way.” He checks out the straggling customers, “Don’t wait on my account. I’ll see Ed after I’m done here.”
“Okay, Steve.”
“Does she have a place to stay? I know Rob is crashing with you and Hop—”
Joyce laughs, “We’ll have a full house I suppose. I can put Jonathan on the couch or something, don’t worry about it Steve.”
“Right. Okay.” He gives the final customer a smile and wave as they wish him a happy holiday. “I’ll see you later.”
Hanging up the phone, Steve walks to the door to turn the lock and flip the sign to ‘closed.’ He lingers against the door, resting his forearms against the bar, watching as the snow falls against the dark sky. Wonders how it is that just from the sound of your voice, he felt himself falling not unlike snowflakes outside.
Earlier that day
Turns out, landing the Corroded Coffin interview was not the boon to your career you thought it would be.
Maybe you’d set yourself up for failure. And it didn’t help that you had one big, fat embarrassing crush on a member of the band. Generally, being a fan of the artist coupled with the tendency to romanticize things in your mind only led to disaster.
Or, in your case, attempting to revive the frontman of the aforementioned band on the bathroom floor.
Eddie Munson was unresponsive at your feet, a panoply of pills and baggies scattered across the floor. Having no time to think, you launch into action— checked for breathing and finding none began CPR followed by chest compressions, all while yelling for help.
Gareth is the one to find you, compressing Eddie’s chest with your two hands in between administering two breaths after every 30 counts.
“Call an ambulance!”
You can’t even bring yourself to feel sorry about your tone, harried and frantic, as he stumbles out to call 911. Thankfully, the paramedics are quick. One paramedic asks, “You’re his fiancée?”
Dumbly, you nod, too in shock to register what’s been said. Someone guides you down the steps and into the front of the ambulance strapping you in with a seatbelt. He can’t just die, you reason, not when Corroded is just taking off— a world tour in the new year and a cover story with Rolling Stone.
Your editor would have your head if something were to go wrong. Munson was notoriously picky with interviews and reporters, it was a miracle they’d approved you for the job. Rumor has it that he’d have much preferred Nancy Wheeler, but the board wasn’t keen to bring in a free-lance reporter for the job.
Somehow, this would be your fault.
Arriving at the hospital isn’t any better. Gareth and the other band members stayed behind to call management and see what was to be done about Eddie, and made you promise to call them once you’d arrived at Hawkins Memorial.
Nevermind that you’re alone in a town you’d never stepped foot in before today. And all at Eddie Munson’s behest.
They rushed him off past the swinging double-doors, out of your reach. Stepping to the front desk, you ask the receptionist where the nearest pay-phone is, and she offers you one of the hospital phones instead.
Dialing the number hastily scribbled onto your hand, your fingers brush along the plastic keys listening for the trill of the ring down the line.
“Hi, Gareth? We made it to the hospital, they took him back with a team of doctors and nurses.”
“You didn’t go back with him?”
“It’s family only, I think?” You scratch the back of your neck nervously. “It’s not a big deal, I can stay in the lobby until you get here.”
“Yeah, that’s gonna be a while…”
He goes on to explain that their team has to meet and discuss next steps. The band can’t leave until they’ve done so and their manager asked them to stay put.
“That’s shitty.”
He hums his agreement.
“And I’m just supposed to stay here by myself? I don’t—”
“That’d be great, that is, if you don’t mind,” Gareth interrupts. “They’ll call his emergency contact soon enough. But we’d really appreciate having someone we know there until then.”
“Oh, okay.”
He thanks you for being so cool with all of this and says his goodbyes. With a short smile, you hand the phone back to the receptionist. Heaving a sigh, you drop your head into your hands and lament, “I was gonna marry him.”
Unbeknownst to you, Eddie’s attending nurse overhears you and recalls how the paramedic who brought him in said something about a fiancee. Turning toward you, she places a delicate hand on your back. You jump with a start and look up.
“You’re the fiancée, right?”
“Wh–”
“It’s okay honey, he’s doing fine. I’ll take you back there now.”
Allowing yourself to be guided by the kind nurse as she prattles on about something or other, you wonder how to get yourself out of this. No one was going to buy that Eddie Munson has a secret fiancee. If he was awake, he’d probably laugh you out of the room himself.
But, as it was, they’d placed him in a medically induced coma to let the drugs work their way out of his system. A small miracle, that. The doctor briefs you on his status, all of which flies directly out of your brain, too focused on how small he looks in the bed. Tubes dripping fluids and machines whirring or beeping every so often. Tattoos a stark contrast to the pallor of his skin, a sharp relief against a marble canvas.
A medical assistant approaches you and asks about an emergency contact or the contact information of family and friends.
“I don’t–”
The dazed look in your eye must give something away because the assistant attempts to pat your back comfortingly before saying they’ll check his personal effects.
The nurse, impossibly kind, rests a hand on your shoulder, “Let him hear your voice, honey.”
Her shoes squeak along the tile floor as she leaves. There’s a brief reprieve where you’re left alone with Eddie in the hospital room. The nurse and medical assistant flit in and out occasionally, making notes in his chart here and there. But you’re transfixed by the man in front of you— beautiful and impossibly out of reach. He was even before the interview, you rationalize, but now he’s even more so. It’s bittersweet, almost, makes you want to reach out and hold the hand at his side, silver rings glinting in the fluorescent lights.
“Hi,” You greet. “I bet you’re wondering what I’m doing here, huh?” You take the seat closest to him. “Well, I didn’t really get a chance to introduce myself, so here it goes.” Taking a sip from the coffee the nurse left to fortify you, you recite your full name. “And I think you should know your family thinks we’re engaged. Never been engaged before, so this is all very sudden for me.” You huff a laugh and roll your eyes, “Um, what I really came here to tell you was, I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“I don’t know what to do,” You continue, a quasi-one sided conversation and therapy session all in one neat package. “I’m just a reporter for the Rolling Stone. And if you were awake, or hell, even if Gareth were here, I wouldn’t be in this mess. Oh, god not that I’m blaming you.” Your hand finds his arm briefly before you jerk back as if stung, “Shit, sorry.”
“This is not how I pictured my life going, to be honest with you. I thought when I did get engaged, I’d at least have the luxury of knowing my fiancé, or y’know them being conscious at least.” You sigh and take another sip of shitty coffee, “Don’t get me wrong, I love my life— I’ve got a great job and apartment, I get to travel and write for a living. It’s definitely not a bad gig.”
“It’s just, I never met anyone I could truly be myself with, y’know? Laugh with, and I mean ugly laugh with a snort and witch cackle. D’ya ever believe in love at first sight? No, probably not, you’re too rock and roll for that. Or have you even seen someone, and you knew that if only that person really knew you, they would…”
Thinking back to your Corroded Coffin research and tabloid perusals, you sigh. “Of course, they would dump the perfect model that they were with and realize that you were the one they wanted to grow old with.” You shake your head, realizing how ridiculous you sound, talking to a man in a coma who probably can’t even hear you. Your voice falls to a hush, “You ever fall in love with someone you’ve never even talked to? Have you ever been so alone you spend the day confusing a man in a coma?”
“No? Me neither.”
There’s the sound of shuffling of feet echoing from the hallway, followed by a relived: “Oh, there he is.”
A voice startles you from the doorway, deep and masculine, albeit out of breath. A tall, broad man steps into the room quickly followed by a shorter woman and a lankier man. The first addresses you, “You must be the fiancée, I’m Jim Hopper.” He holds out his hand in greeting.
You shake his hand, palm engulfed in his larger one.
“This is my wife, Joyce, and that there is Eddie’s uncle Wayne.”
“He’s so pale,” She laments, crossing the room to his bedside. “Oh, my god.”
You nod to each of them, dropping your hand from Hopper’s. He studies you and you feel like squirming under his gaze, he’s still in uniform but sets his hat on a nearby chair. Great, just what you needed, a police chief to sniff you out.
Grabbing your things, you ready yourself to leave. “There’s been a misunderstanding. I should—”
“Nonsense,” Joyce says from opposite of you, she brushes a few strands of hair away from Eddie’s face. “The kids’ll be here soon and they’ll want to meet you.”
Wayne claps a hand to your shoulder, warmly giving it a squeeze.
“The doctor said you found him and gave him CPR until the paramedics arrived?”
“Oh, um, yeah.”
“They say the only reason he was breathing when they brought him in was because of you.” His voice is hoarse, he coughs into his fist and clears his throat. “Thank you, for that.”
“It’s what anyone would’ve done.”
He squeezes your shoulder once more, “Not necessarily,” and moves off to sit in one of the chairs.
“The doctor should be back soon,” You say, sitting beside Wayne. “He said the vital signs and brainwaves were looking good.”
Joyce nods and shoots you a smile, making idle chit-chat while the rest of you wait for the kids to arrive. There was some concern over Wayne and his heart condition, doesn’t take to shocking news too well, as you understand it. But who are these kids, Eddie’s kids? You didn’t recall coming across any mention of a previous wife or children in your research, but there are stranger things for rockstars to get up to than having a secret family you suppose.
It’s only when Wayne nudges you with his foot that you realize Joyce has been calling your name, “Where are you staying?”
“Oh, a hotel for the night.” You say softly, “I have to get back to New York soon.”
“Well, I won’t hear of it.” Joyce says looking to Hopper, “She’ll stay with us, won’t she Jim?”
He looks back at his wife and seeing her steely resolve, he knows better than to argue with her. “Sure, you’ll spend the holiday with us.”
Damn.
“Oh, we should see if we need to wait for Steve,” Joyce notes, just as a gaggle of people walk in. “Hi kids!” She stands quickly to greet them, their names coming too fast for you to keep up. A man and woman about your age bring up the rear, Joyce hugging them in turn.
Quietly, you step out to collect yourself. After taking a few breaths, you spot the medical assistant from earlier and flag him down for the emergency contact information. He scribbles a name and several phone numbers on a scrap of paper, “I would try this one first,” He points to the middle number, “It’s the work line, I think.”
“Great, thank you!”
Entering the room again, Wayne introduces you as Eddie’s fiancee and rescuer, to whoops and hollers. The younger woman lets out a wolf-whistle and drops you a wink, causing the heat to skitter underneath your skin. Making toward the phone, you dial the number and read the name on the paper.
Steve Harrington.
“Thank you for calling Family Video, this is Steve. How may I help you?”
The rich baritone of his voice, strong and deep, brings a quiver to your knees. Stumbling your way through an introduction, you make disastrous small-talk and wave Joyce over. She takes the phone with a smile, pushing you lightly toward the assembled group where the young woman, Robin, takes you under her wing.
“Fiancée, huh?” She asks with a quirked brow, to your noncommittal shrug. “Hmm.” Her eyes sweep toward Eddie, “I think you can do better,” She jokes with a wink.
Wayne drives you from the hospital to the house, graciously stopping by a grocery store along the way because you didn’t want to show up empty-handed. You make quick work of the deserted aisles, grabbing the necessary ingredients for pumpkin and pecan pie. He helps you to load the bags in the back of the truck and softly croons along to Woody Guthrie as he drives along the icy streets.
A comfortable silence sits between you. Wayne Munson is a man of few words, which is fine by you. The less opportunity for talking yourself into a hole, the better. He comes to a stop in front of a two-storey house festooned with Christmas lights. He carries your bags from the truck into the house, promising Joyce that he’ll be back tomorrow for Thanksgiving. Joyce rolls her eyes fondly and turns back toward the kitchen, leaving the pair of you in the entryway.
You rock back on your heels uncomfortably. Before you can make your escape, Wayne’s hand falls to your shoulder again kneading gently. You glance up to find his watery eyes and quiet smile; he pulls you in for a brief hug. “Thank you sweetheart,” He sighs, followed by a sniff, “I don’t know where he’d be without you, or where we’d be for that matter.” Giving you a final squeeze, he releases you and calls out a goodbye to Hopper and Joyce, shutting the front door behind him.
“Hey kid,” Hopper says, leaning against the bannister. “Join me outside for a minute?” He shrugs into his coat and nods toward the front porch. “Lemme grab my smokes, I’ll meet you out there.”
Well, shit.
It takes everything in you to not give in and pace along the icy boards of the porch as you wait. He’s figured you out, you know he has, and now he’s going to kick you out and you’ll have to call a cab and get back to the hotel before booking it to the airport first thing tomorrow.
“I know you and Munson aren’t involved, kid.” Hopper shuts the front door with a soft click, “Heard you back at the hospital talking to him.”
Your blood goes cold and you know there’s no way you can spin yourself out of this one. “I know, I know and I’m so sorry. It just all happened so fast and Wayne has that heart thing—” Your voice is choked and tight as you try to explain.
“Hey, slow down, take a breath. This isn’t the end of the world.”
“I’ll tell them, I just—”
He shakes his head and lets out a sigh, “Let me level with you,” He brushes off the snow and ice from the top step and invites you to sit down beside him. “God knows what that boy did to earn your attention, cause I certainly can’t make heads or tails of it.” He lights up a cigarette and offers one to you, “No? Can’t say I blame you, it’s a bad habit.” He takes a long drag in thought, leaving you to stew in your guilt. “What I’m trying to say is this: whatever you did, it brought him back. Eddie’s here and breathing because of you, so, in a way, we have him back because of you.”
You stay silent, knowing that whatever Hopper just shared with you is important. The guilt doesn’t leave you, not entirely, but this gruff lawman confiding in you does lodge something loose from the knot in your chest. And when he throws his arm over your shoulders to draw you to his side, you can’t help the watery smile that makes its way across your face.
He smells like your dad, the same blend of tobacco, leather, and spice. It’s been far too long since you’ve indulged in the memory of him, so you allow yourself the weakness, just this once.
And you let Hopper lead you back inside his loud and warmly lit home where Joyce greets you with a plate for dinner and promises to help you bake the pies for tomorrow.
Steve is dead on his feet when he arrives at Hop and Joyce’s house. He’d swung by the hospital to check on Eddie and talked with the doctor and nurses. It was all pretty standard— let him dry out and then assess for further damage. His vitals were good and there didn’t appear to be a need for concern at this point. The doctor, of course, recommended a stay in rehab after being discharged from the hospital, which was already suggested by Corroded’s management team.
“You fucking idiot.”
That’s the first thing Steve says to Eddie, quickly followed by:
“When you wake up, I’m gonna kill you myself.”
He doesn’t linger, knowing he’ll be back tomorrow, and the next day until Eddie wakes up. But it’s gone midnight by the time he turns the key at Hop’s place, kicking his boots at the door to rid them of the snow and ice, before toeing them off at the door. They thunk across the hardwood as he carelessly kicks them off, shrugging out of his coat and hanging it on the hooks by the door.
“Sshh, dingus, you’re gonna wake her up!” Robin hisses as her socked feet light down the stairs.
Steve smiles, relieved to see her, before asking, “Wake up who?”
Robin rolls her eyes and gestures to your sleeping form on the sofa. Steve studies you from a few steps up, one hand resting on the wooden bannister while the other pauses mid-air as he unravels his scarf. “Eddie’s fiancée, of course.”
“So, that’s her?”
You’ve turned your back to them, and you’ve curled in ever so slightly on the sofa. One of Joyce’s many blankets covers you, but your socked feet stick out from underneath one corner— dancing penguins.
At least, that’s what Steve thinks are on your socks. But, he may need to get his eyes checked again.
“What, you haven’t met her?” Robin takes in Steve’s shocked expression, before it softens into something akin to how he goes all moon-eyed at the babes who frequented Scoops Ahoy or Family Video when they were teens as his eyes fall to you once more. “She’s great, you’ll love her. Now c’mon, let’s get you some food.”
“Cereal?”
She snorts at that, “Not my cereal. You took the toy surprise last time!”
Safely ensconced in the kitchen, Robin and Steve catch up in between bites of sugary cereal. She regales him with how valiantly Jonathan tried to get you to take his room upstairs for your stay and how stubbornly you’d refused, insisting you’d be fine on the couch.
“I was right,” Robin says, some milk dribbling from her mouth as she chews. “Total knock-out and smart. Dunno how Munson managed it.”
“Oh y’know, the Munson charm probably.”
She hums in thought, setting her empty bowl in the sink. “Why d’you think he didn’t tell us?”
“Maybe he wanted it to be a surprise?”
“Fuck, what if he knocked her up?!”
Steve’s eyes blow wide at that thought. “Uh,” He says, astutely, “I don’t think that’s the case.”
“Yeah,” Robin hops down from her perch on the counter. “But how do we know?”
“You could ask her.”
She punches him in the arm, “You don’t just ask women if they’re pregnant Steve, geeze.”
He shrugs and slurps the sugary milk from the bowl before setting it alongside Robin’s. He licks his lips and crosses his arms in thought. Steve hadn’t considered the rather obvious conclusion that his rockstar best friend had inadvertently knocked someone up. Considering the groupies and types that flocked to Eddie, it was a long time coming.
If that’s what the case may be.
As it stands, it’s nearly two in the morning and Steve is exhausted. Thankfully, Family Video is closed for the holiday tomorrow, but he knows that in a few hours everyone is going to tramping around the house and generally being a nuisance. And he really doesn’t wanna drive clear across town to his place.
Steve pauses on the stairs, watching the steady rise and fall of your chest. Robin clears the landing and calls to him from the guest room, “C’mon dingus, I haven’t got all night.”
With a shake of his head, he climbs the stairs mindful not to linger too long on the creaky boards. He settles in sharing a bed with Robin, her icicle feet darting under his calves as he fusses with the blankets. His head hits the pillow, and he’s out like a light.
All you can think as you blearily blink yourself awake, is how everything is so loud. Even when they try to be quiet, scampering across the hall past the living room where you clung to the last vestiges of sleep - it was loud. Strained whispers about breakfast and hospital visits, the opening and closing of doors, Hopper hissing at the kids to “Keep your mouths shut,” and to “Stop chasing each other across the house!”
A man, whom you can only assume is Steve, stumbles down the stairs, sweats swung low on his hips sporting a threadbare t-shirt and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. You’ve never seen a human being with bedhead like that - strands sticking up every which way and the sheer volume it had, my god. Hand falling from his eye, his glasses slot back into place, a pair of simple round frames decked in silver. He stops short at the landing, one hand grasping the wood of the bannister, watching as you set the phone back in its cradle.
“Leaving so soon?”
And that voice - all husky and low from sleep, with a slight rasp to it. It’s amazing you’re not reduced to a puddle on the floor at this point. He stretches slowly, like an animal would, a hushed groan falling from his lips. You swallow the lump in your throat and drag your eyes from the sliver of skin exposed at his hip.
“No, just talking to Wayne.” You offer meekly, voice rusty from disuse, “He’s on his way over for an early morning hospital run.”
“Mmm,” Steve nods, “That’s not a bad idea.” He turns the corner from the stairs and stands beside you in the entryway. “I don’t think we’ve officially met,” He says, offering his hand to shake. “I’m Steve.”
“Nice to meet you.” You shake hands and introduce yourself. His hand is large and warm, the contact of your skin against his sending a shiver down your spine.
“That’s a pretty name,” He smiles at you, beginning to wake up a bit more. “So, you’re the fiancée.”
“Yup.”
“Huh.” He looks you up and down, clucks his tongue and departs, making his way toward the kitchen.
Once there, all hell breaks loose. Joyce and Hop are manning the stove and counter, flipping pancakes and shovelling eggs onto plates and all but throwing them at the kids. Wedged into the breakfast nook are Dustin, Lucas, and Mike while El, Max, Robin, and Jonathan commandeer the table in the kitchen.
“Mornin’ family.” Steve greets, bee-lining for the coffeemaker. Blessedly, there’s a fresh pot brewing in the percolator while he scavenges for a mug.
Mumbled versions of “Morning Steve,” sound out from the peanut gallery between bites of food and sips of coffee or orange juice. Joyce sets a plate in front of him on the counter and ruffles his hair, “Morning kiddo.”
Hop sighs from the stove, turning the dial of the burner to ‘Off’ before intoning, “The kitchen is officially closed, you gremlins.”
Steve chuckles as he removes the coffeepot and gives a generous pour into the ‘World’s Best Dad’ mug El made many moons ago. He’s not sure of your preferred cream-to-sugar ratio, so he decides to go without and trots out of the kitchen.
He sees the front door close at the end of the hall and quickens his step not wanting to miss you. Spying a pair of slides from god knows who, he slips them on and pulls the door open. Wayne’s old pickup is idling in the driveway as you step into the cab, feet unsteady and the newly formed ice of the drive. Wayne nods to Steve in greeting as he walks toward the house, while Steve waves in return.
“Careful,” He says as a hand comes to rest at your back.
Tossing a ‘thanks’ over your shoulder, you settle into the seat with a click of the seatbelt. “Did you need something?” You ask, breath forming puffs of vapor in the morning light.
“Well, uh,” Steve begins, ducking his head and gesturing to the mug in his hand. “The coffee’s not too great over there at the hospital.” He hands you the mug through the open door.
“Oh, thank you.”
He leans against the car, face level with yours. One fist at the roof of the cab while his opposite arm braces against the open door. A lock of hair falls into his face, and he’s so attractive that it’s stupid. “So, uh, y-you’re comin’ back, right? You’ll come back?”
You glance to him, unsure of why he’s so concerned with your whereabouts. “Yeah, we’re just checking in. We’ll be back soon.”
Steve nods at your confirmation, pushing off of the truck to stand at his full height. His hands slide to his hips, fingers just beneath the band of the sweatpants as he slowly arches his back, hips bobbing toward you. And you don’t know whether to maintain eye contact with him or focus on the looming proximity of his crotch.
“Oh boy,” He exhales, looking off into the distance. “What a day.”
Your eyes dart away when he looks to you once more, uncomfortable under his scrutiny. “Well, thank you.” You hold the mug up and take a tentative sip, “Good goddamn,” You whisper in disbelief.
“It’s good, right?” You nod and take another sip as he smiles, “I had a dream about you last night.” He tugs at the band of his sweats while your eyes cut to his.
“What?”
“Yeah,” He leans against the truck again, face closer to yours and arms resting against the roof of the cab. “I ended up havin’ a dream about you.”
“W-what was I doing?” You stammer out, as the sound of crushed snow and ice underfoot signals Wayne’s return.
“Well–” Steve starts to say before he’s cut off by Wayne’s, “Y’ready, sweetheart?”
You nod and clear your throat uncomfortably.
“You comin’?” Wayne asks Steve before he closes the passenger door.
“Later.” He turns to leave as Wayne settles into the driver’s seat but before you can pull out of the driveway, “Oh, y’know, you gotta make sure to bring back the mug because it’s Hop’s favorite.”
You stare back at him blankly.
“Or he’ll kill ya.”
“Okay,” You breathe watching as he makes his way back to the house, Adidas slides flopping through the snow.
Returning from the hospital an hour or so later, with plans to bring a few plates over for Eddie’s attending doctor and nurses, you nearly breeze past Steve sitting on the staircase with a mug of coffee and paper in hand.
“Hey,” You greet, toeing off your boots and shrugging out of your coat. “Wayne’s coming back for later, just had to grab some things from his place.”
He’s changed out of his sweats and done something to tame his hair. You can hear Joyce frantically corralling the kids in the kitchen, something about Mass and how she refuses to be late again. Steve shakes his head and drinks his coffee, ready and waiting to cart Robin, Dustin, and Max over to Our Lady of Perpetual Mercy for the Thanksgiving Mass.
But it would seem that no one warned you about Mass last night, which would explain the deer in headlights look you’re sporting now. Steve stands from his perch on the stairs, turning to yell at Robin, “Our Lady may have perpetual mercy, but I don’t and you’re really pushing it today Rob!”
When he turns back, you’re no longer in the entryway. The kitchen door swings as if someone just passed through, and he can hear your voice over the chatter from the kids. Joyce is rattling off instructions and times for food to be cooked and you’re diligently taking notes on the whiteboard attached to the fridge. Your handwriting is neat, and a bit slanted, giving it an effortless look. Capping the marker, you let it swing from the string on the fridge.
“Think that about does it,” You assure Joyce, gesturing to the lone velcro roller in her hair. “I’ll have everything ready by the time you get back.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to come with?” She asks, unraveling the roller and setting it on the windowsill above the sink. “I’m sure Robin has something you could borrow.”
Steve catches your eye roll and snorts into his mug. Your eyes cut to him, silently admonishing his outburst. He shakes his head and sets the mug on the counter, seeing Hop’s mug he loaned you earlier already on the drying rack.
“I don’t want to be a bother,” You kindly brush her off, “Besides, you’ll want to get going soon and I would just hold you up.”
“And the hotel is dropping off your luggage later?”
You nod, tying on an apron and moving to wash your hands. “Yeah, I spoke with the concierge this morning.”
“I wish you’d just sleep in Jonathan’s old room,” Joyce tuts, “He can go on the couch, he’s used to it.”
“Mom, I already offered—”
You laugh and raise your hand, “It’s fine Joyce, I’m already an imposition as it is. The last thing I’d want to do is put him out.”
Steve watches as you blend in with the family, how easily you soothe Joyce and her worries, banter with the kids, and crack jokes with Hop. It’s easy to see why Eddie could fall for someone like you. He just wishes he could find someone like that— easy going and kind, someone who fits in like a missing puzzle piece.
But maybe it’s too perfect.
Now there’s some food for thought.
A loud honk from Hop’s Bronco jars him from his musings. Steve claps his hands together, rallying the troops, “Okay, who’s with me?” Dustin, Lucas, and Max jump up from the table and gather their coats, scurrying out to the beemer. Robin takes the stairs two at a time, struggling to shrug into her coat. “Look alive, sunshine!”
Goodbyes ring out as you follow them to the porch, watching as they clamber into their cars. You wave as they pull out of the drive, Joyce rolling down the window for a final reminder about the dinner rolls. With good humor, you nod and give her a thumbs up as the Bronco drives onto the street.
The church parking lot is packed by the time they arrive. Steve drops off Robin and the kids before peeling out to find a parking spot, while Hop leaves the Bronco in the drop-off lane in front. Mass has already begun when Steve enters the chapel, quickly he slips in alongside Hop and Joyce at the family pew.
“We pray that the Lord’s healing presence will be felt by those who are sick and by their families. Especially Robert Newby, Barbara Holland, and Edward Munson. We pray to the Lord,” The priest intones from the lectern.
“Lord hear our prayer.”
Steve stands in between Hopper and Robin, waiting for the priest to move it along.
“O, God, you call us to live as one family. Save us from…”
Finally, they sit. Half-paying attention to the priest, Steve turns to Hop and asks, “So, who’s this fiancée?”
“She’s Eddie’s girl, she’s family now.”
“You’d think if Eddie were getting married, he would have announced it in the Times.”
Hop turns to him, “We read the Indianapolis Star.”
And the congregants say, “Amen.”
“If she’s family, why isn’t she at Mass with us?”
Hop snorts, “That’s rich, comin’ from you, kid.”
“I like Mass better in Latin,” Wayne pipes up from his seat next to Joyce, “It’s nicer when you don’t know what they’re sayin’.”
“D’ya think about what I said the other night?”
“Nope.”
“Steve, come on.” Hop stands with the rest of the congregation, “You’ve got the instinct for it, and gettin’ through the Academy is a breeze.”
“I told you,” Steve says following suit, “I don’t wanna be a cop for chrissakes.”
“Stop swearing,” Joyce hisses, “We’re in Mass.”
“But there is something I’d like to talk to you about.”
“Well, you can talk about it later,” Joyce reminds them.
“Talk about it now,” Robin says leaning toward Steve conspiratorially, “He can’t kill you in church.”
“Will you please pipe down?” An exasperated parishioner asks from the pew behind them.
Hop scoffs and slowly turns around, “Hey, be nice, pal. We’re in church.”
“You’re disrupting the Mass!” He hisses back.
“Yeah? And who made you the Pope?”
“Jim!” Joyce hisses, nudging with an elbow.
“Now how did Argyle get to be a lector?” Wayne asks, “He took over Ed’s gig with Reefer Rick after he moved to LA with the band.”
Steve and Hopper snort, Robin tries and fails to repress her laughter. Down past Wayne, Dustin and Mike are a few seconds from a slap fight while Max and El whisper in between fits of giggles. Joyce sighs deeply.
And the congregation says, “Amen.”
Cooking Thanksgiving lunch goes off without a hitch. Everything was ready, as you promised, by the time they’d returned from Mass and you’d caught the tail end of Joyce’s scolding: “We will try to behave as a civilized family might—”
The kitchen door swung open to reveal Hopper and Joyce both stopping short at the sight of you washing dishes.
“H-how did you—” Joyce’s mouth opens and closes, struck dumb at the sight of gleaming dishes in the drying rack and the dishwasher already running.
“Oh, hi,” You toss over your shoulder, “The dining room table is set, I was just cleaning up in here.”
Steve and Robin file in soon after, bickering about something or other. They’re talking fast and cutting each other off, but it doesn’t deter their conversation.
“Why do you keep singling me out?” Steve balks, throwing his coat on the back of a nearby chair.
“Well, if you hadn’t been pestering Hop throughout Mass we might’ve—”
“And I can’t even defend myself?”
“Forget it,” Hop cuts in with a warning tone, “And I know you gave her my mug, Harrington.”
“Oh, did you need it?” Your hand flies to the cabinet above the coffeemaker, a fresh pot already brewed. “It’s all washed and ready to go.”
Dustin enters shortly after, “Let’s just vote Steve off the island,” and thumps him on the chest in passing.
“Yeah,” Hop agrees.
Steve sighs and runs a hand through his hair, “Well, I’m ashamed of all of you.”
“Oh, there’s some news,” Max mutters sarcastically, leaning against the fridge.
Steve’s eyes fall to Lucas, “Even you Sinclair.”
Lucas throws up his hands in exasperation, “I didn’t even do anything!”
“Okay, enough.” Joyce says cutting through the nonsense. “It’s Thanksgiving, we’re going to eat lunch without any of this bickering. And then, with any luck, you lot will pass out watching the game and I can finally get some goddamn peace.”
Everyone has the decency to look mildly embarrassed, that is until:
“No swearing.”
Steve punches Robin in the arm, “Can it.”
The room descends into guffaws and fits of laughter shortly thereafter. Joyce eventually herds everyone into the dining room, Robin pours the drinks while Hop carves the turkey. Everyone helps themselves to the various sides— dinner rolls, green bean casserole, mashed potatoes, gravy, cranberry sauce, stuffing, and roasted veggies. Wayne arrives with cornbread fresh from the oven and some vanilla ice cream to go with the pies for dessert.
The candles are lit casting a warm glow around the room, illuminating smiling faces. And it’s nice. Nice to belong, if only temporarily, to a big family that loves hard. Growing up, it had been only you and your dad. And after his death, that left only you. You had missed it, all of it— the inside jokes, sibling taunts, half-assed scolding followed by a cheeky wink, and that effortless touch.
It was second nature, how freely they expressed their affection for one another. Steve roping Dustin into a half-nelson for a noogie, Jonathan and Will kicking eachother under the table, El and Max communicating in half-formed sentences and wild gesticulations, Joyce, Hop, and Wayne sharing long-suffering sighs.
“Hey,” Robin says, nudging you with her elbow after refilling your wine glass. “I’m thankful for you.” Her voice is soft, like she’s sharing a secret. Cheeks tinged with a flush from the wine, she smiles at you and raises her glass. “I’d like to propose a toast,” She announced to the group, “To our newest addition and guardian angel, cheers!”
The sentiment is echoed across the table, calls of your name and ‘here, here.’ And it’s so kind that your heart could burst. You sip your wine and swallow around the lump in your throat. Going back to your meal, you can’t help but feel like you’re being watched, observed. Glancing up, you catch Steve looking at you from across the table.
The flicker of golden light against his face does little to ease the knot in your chest. His hair is slightly disheveled, a lock falling across his face wrought loose from his fingers combing through it. His eyes appear more green than hazel in the light, studying you from behind wire frames. Your pulse kicks up under his scrutiny, and he looks at you as if you’ll unravel right then and there.
Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe it was the years of tropical vacations instead of celebrating holidays with friends and family that made you forget that, actually, families are complicated and any recollection of pleasant holiday celebrations spent with your dad were a figment of your own nostalgia-tinted imagination and the promise of skiing the next day.
For a moment, shame creeps upon you like a thief in the night. You tear yourself from Steve's gaze, not noticing the concerned furrow of his brows as you hastily stand and offer to clear some plates from the table. Sweeping out of the room and nudging the kitchen door open with your hip. He absentmindedly swirls the remaining wine in his glass and blows out a puff of air.
Ever the detective, it takes Hopper all of two seconds to ascertain that Steve did something to hasten your departure from the table. Seeing as the punk is pointedly not looking his way, Hopper lobs a dinner role at Steve, grazing his cheek only to land on his plate sending the cutlery clattering. He jerks upright, setting the glass on the table, “What the–”
“That’s enough,” Hop warns with cool detachment and a knowing look in his eye. He nods toward the kitchen, “Now, go make nice.”
Everything is still mostly out of your control in the kitchen, precisely because you don’t know where anything should go and having a knot in your chest as hard as a rock does little to help matters. But Steve silently rescues you by beginning to unload the dishwasher and Robin starts a thirty minute tale of increasing ridiculousness and by the time the attention turns back to you, you are slightly less hysteric and better able to answer El’s kind questions.
You swallow a twist of guilt and a bigger twist of gratitude. You feel some anxiety brimming in your stomach and nod, giving El a strained smile.
Something knocks against your shoulder. The warm scent of cedar and musk invading your senses— Steve.
“Your shoulders are up near your ears,” he observes.
You sigh at that, trying to roll out the tension, but not quite managing to. Par for the course, with your indeterminate stay in Hawkins looming in the air and stretching far across the foreseeable future.
#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington angst#fic: tbsg#Spotify
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pairing: jj x fem!reader
warnings: swearing, alcohol & drugs, drunk reader, drunk jj, drunk everyone, sum floof, lots of suggestive content.. 😁, groping, PDA, CHAOSSs
Its was John B’s birthday.
Amazing, right? That’s what JJ Maybank had thought anyway—he’d been planning the birthday party of his best friend, with the help of his girlfriend, for a few days now and today was finally the day where everything came together. All the Pogues had done up the Chateau—cheap silver Christmas tinsel hung loosely from the wooden ceilings, wrapped (messily or otherwise) presents stacked in pyramid form on the coffee table. Blue, silver and purple balloons were scattered around, a tacky blue ‘happy birthday’ banner slapped against one of the walls. And alcohol, upon alcohol upon alcohol was lined up neatly in the small open plan kitchen.
The party had long since started up—the birthday boy himself having arrived about an hour and half ago with a giddy Sarah in tow (she had the initial task of keeping him distracted) and with a brief emotional moment for John, sop, the party had begun.
Chaos.
You’d all migrated outdoors now—taking some things from inside with you on your way; Pope had climbed up the tree, all on his own (you had a proud mom moment) and with the ukulele he’d nicked from Kie, he was playing shitty tunes while randomly shouting at the air.
John B lay in his hammock, a shitfaced grin at his lips and a purple cowboy hat hanging from his head, a day of the dead dead design etched onto his face with Sarah’s eyeliner. A bottle of half done Vodka encased in one of his hands. JJ was sat down on the long grass, back against the tree, he was wearing the Christmas tinsel from indoors around his neck and had tied another in a bow around his waist—he’d taken to crafting (or attempting to craft) little grass rings and bracelets from the grass he plucked off the ground and two beers rested in between his parted legs, the front of his lengthy blonde hair tugged into a tiny ponytail with a clear rubber band.
You girls, on the other hand, were all dancing your drunken hearts away—Rude boy by Rihanna was currently blaring from the speaker Kie had smartly brought with her and the free of you were living your absolute best life’s.
“I like the way you touch me there—“
All three of you sang out loudly, and Kiara grinned suddenly with beautiful mischief before she put soft hands to your bare waist and tugged you back fully against her body, hands caressing you up and down to empathise the point of the song—you giggled along with her actions, throwing your head back into her shoulder with feigned euphoria and gliding her hands across you body as you grinded back on her.
“I like the way you pull my hair—“
Sarah didn’t seem to plan on missing out of the fun, eagerly strutting you both and sliding in behind Kiara, leaving said girl sandwiched between you two. You were all giggling and to do as the song said—Kie parted you hair into quick pigtails before tugging on them jokingly: you titled you head back to look at her with a dopey grin, pressing back on her and sensually swaying your hips.
“Babe, if I don't feel it I ain't faking, no, no I like when you tell me kiss you here—“
Simultaneously, with the sung lyrics, you and Sarah turned your heads to face Kie and smacked loud kisses to her soft skin, leaving lip stains on both of her cheeks—you caught the blondes eyes over her shoulder as she bit onto her bottom lip with a mockingly lustful expression which made you cackle.
“I like when you tell me, ‘move it there’—“
With the lyrics, you turned yourself around so you were chest to chest with Kiara and you slid yourself down her body, moving your hips sensually to the music and running your hands down her body as she leant her head back on Sarah, grinding against the blonde while messing with your hair.
“So giddy up, time to giddy up You say you're a rude boy—“
As you shimmied back up gracefully, you winked at your best friend and toyed with a pretty curl for turning so your back was against her again—the three of you drunkenly singing along to the song.
When you all finally stopped dancing shortly after that, out of breath as you all laughed over seemingly nothing, your eyes finally landed back on the three boys—finding them all staring at you three already. John B was half hidden by the hammock, looking ready to hide his gaze at anytime, Pope was gaping with an evidently loose grip on the instrument in hand and your boyfriend simply stared at you, enamoured.
“I think we broke them.” Sarah loudly whispered.
The three of you launched into laughter but Kiara’s laughing paused as she took note of Pope’s grip on her ukulele.
“Pope you break that damn ukulele, I swear.” Kie immediately exclaimed with intoxicated obnoxiousness as she took into a weak sprint towards the tree, startling the boy so bad he did drop the ukulele and Kiara exclaimed in pure terror, barely managing to catch it in time.
“My baby.” She whispered, terrified, as she cradled her instrument.
You and Sarah happily entangled hands, skipping around in a circle briefly with soft giggles before towards your boyfriends, hands swinging back and forth as she muttered something about capybaras you didn’t catch.
“Hi.” JJ whispered, looking up at you like you were some goddess.
“Hi my beautiful boy.” You popped your lips together—lipgloss smacking sensually, drunk off your fucking tits, you were.
The glazed shine of love in his eyes immediately doubled, a sheepish heat to his sun kissed as yiu plopped yourself down next to him happily on the grass.
“Hey.” He whispered, again, dumbly.
You grinned at him in return, looking every bit of angel that he thought you were and as he continued to watch you with sprinkles of nothing but deviation in clear blue eyes, you positioned yourself away from the tree to lie down in the soft, green grass.
JJ allowed a drunken gasp to slip from his lips at your beauty in that moment—skin glowing magically under the shining moonlight, eyes crinkled in the corners from your wide toothed grin, hair like a makeshift halo amongst the long grass, shirt riding up slightly and revealing even more of your heavenly soft skin.
He didn’t waste a second, moving the beer away from him (save the alcohol, always) before literally leaping on top of you. Legs either side of your body, arms either side of your head and shark tooth necklace dangling just above your perfect face.
“M’ pretty girl.” JJ breathed out, smearing kisses all over your cheeks, forehead, nose and you erupted into little giggles of infectious laughter underneath him. “The prettiest girl. ‘Love you so much, baby. Never gonna stop, promise. Ever.”
“Woah.” You gasped, intoxicated and giddy. “You like my dancing that much?”
JJ pouted, a disappointed grumbled moving from his frowning lips and he pinched the plush skin of your thigh gently—soothing it over immediately as you yelped out.
“Relax, Jesus, people these days.” You pouted. “I love you—J, never gon’ stop either. You’re mine now, no backing out.”
“I would never.” He frowned sternly.
You gazed up at him wordlessly, love glinting in your colourful irises and he practically melted from his place above you, smushing himself so close to you his shark tooth necklace fell softly in your cleavage—a feeling that made you giggle.
When JJ caught your wandering gaze saunter over to his beer, he grinned knowingly. The blonde took his bottle of beer with a fond sigh and you smiled up at him innocently—rolling his eyes, he pulled down your bottom lip expectantly and you made an obedient ‘o’ shape which had him humming in approval before he put his beer to your lips, soothing his hands through your hair as you drunk.
“Alcoholic.” He named, narrowing his eyes teasingly as he moved the drink away from you again.
“Pothead.”
The both of you giggled, heads cloudy and lost in thoughts of only each other as the night air cooled sun kissed skin and sounds of Work Out by J.Cole played absently in the background.
“It’s my birthday!” John B suddenly jolted up from his place in the hammock and shouted out.
“Go shawty it’s your birthday—“
“We gon’ party like it’s your birthday—“
“We gon’ sip Bacardi like it’s your birthday—“
“And you know we don’t give a fuck it’s not your birthday!”
“It is my birthday though.” You barely heard John B softly mutter as JJ suddenly captured your lips with his own in a searing kiss, his hands wrapped around your thighs and dug into the meaty flesh, the kiss tasted of beer, weed and your strawberry lipgloss and it was beyond perfect. You hummed into it, fingers tangling into her blond floppy hair, quietly whining in disappointment as he pulled away—your bottom lip between his teeth before he let go.
He squeezed onto your thighs again, moving to slot one of his legs in between them—the cold of his rings made you gasp slightly, a sound that had him grinning.
“You know. .when it’s your birthday, imma throw you your own little party,” JJ whispered it like a scared secret, his scent, eager yet loving touches and rough voice swallowing you whole. “But—but it’s not gonna be a shitty little bash, nah, baby, it’s gonna be all you could want. Birthday of your dreams, for you, my dream girl.”
“Dream girl, huh?”
“Dreamiest.” He hummed drunkenly, peppering sloppy kisses to your cheek before digging his face in the crook of your neck and softly inhaling your scent. “Got an early present for you, dream girl.”
You giggled softly, full of drunk aloofness, as he learned over you and his hair (scented with your coconut shampoo) fell partly into your face.
“Here.” The beautiful face of your boyfriend was once again inches apart from your own and you smiled in content. At your grin, his own appeared and suddenly small grass rings were being thrusted into your face—they were done kinda tackily, small specks of white flowers from the warm green grass poking through uneven strands carefully wrapped together without any true skill. To you they were perfection, and what made them even more perfect was your boyfriends grinning face, sun kissed skin slightly flushed.
“For me?”
As you attempted to reach for one, he caught your wrist softly, pressing a kiss to the back of your palm—humming at the smell of you and the softness to your skin. He carefully put one of the rings (the one with the most flowers) onto your ring finger, shyly peeking up at you for your reaction but you were beaming so heard small dimples erupted and he quickly continued on, now grinning himself.
“I—I know it’s not like, the best, but eventually imma get a pretty, dream ring for my prettiest, dreamiest girl.”
“J.” You called, softly, and he looked up through his lashes, heart pumping aggressively in his chest. “Love you, so much.”
A grin spread across his cheeks in an instant as he leaned down to connect your lips, feeling the slightly itchy feel of the grass ring brushing against his skin as your fingers combed from his hair, his smile stretched wider. His dream girl was truly the dream.
#jj maybank#jj maybank fanfiction#jj maybank fluff#jj maybank imagine#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank smut#jj x reader#outerbanks smut#outerbanks#obx#outerbanks imagine#outerbanks x reader#jj x you#jj maybank x you#jj maybank x y/n
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“The little owl family” (Part 1)
(RZ!Michael Myers x GNReader)
Summary: your and your little sister’s life had an 180° turn when your parents got into a severe car crash, dying on the spot. You, being already past 18 had to figure out how to keep things afloat and give yourself, specially your sister, a good future.
And you did! It was hard but you did it and became the absolute hero in the little girl’s eyes. People would often involuntary smile at the dynamic of your two, so wholesome and supportive, the perfect family bond.
Bond that a certain Boogeyman noticed as well…
Warnings: none, maybe mentions of murder(?).
Word Count: 2.7k
Additional info: Gender Neutral reader. (S/N) = sister’s name.
Also apologies for any mistakes, English is not my first language ;u;
Well, with all that said, enjoy the fic! ^^
(Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6)
—“(Y/N)! (Y/N) look!”—
The voice of a little girl resonated behind the mentioned person, who was finishing putting on their shoes.
—“Mmh? What is it songbird?”— you curiously say as you walk towards your sister.
The little 6 y/o was enthusiastically pointing at the window.
—“Look! The owl family! They actually made a nest in the backyard!”— she exclaims excitedly, giving little jumps in her place as she speaks and points.
The older sibling looks through the window, focusing on the large tree they had in the backyard. And it’s true! Inside of a tree hollow was a barely noticiable owl head curiously peaking out, staring at the duo with it’s dark, almost pitch black, eyes.
—“It’s not just an owl, it’s a barn owl!”— you comment, glancing at your sister. —“Not sure if they’re going to find much food around here though… Maybe we could buy some meat later?”—
—“Oh, yes! We need to help the birdies!”—
—“Aight’ I’ll write it down in our 'to do' list. But now we gotta go or you’ll be late for school.”— you gently remind her.
—“Oww, but will I see the birdies later?”— she looks at you with a little frown.
—“Of corse! Maybe we could even stay up at night a bit longer since they are nocturnal animals.”—
—“Past bedtime?!”— she gasps a bit.
—“Yup, past bedtime.”— you nod with a chuckle. —“But only this time for tonight, and maybe ones in Halloween… And Christmas… And new year…”—
(S/N) lets out a childish laugh as she swings her arms around her sibling’s waist.
—“You are the best (Y/N)!”—
The mentioned person laughs a bit and crouches down to hug their sister properly.
—“I learned from the greatest. Now come on or your teacher is going to reprimand both of us.”—
The little girl pouts a bit but does as told, clearly not wanting to get scolded again by the old witch Rosemary.
. . .
After a couple of hours, (Y/N) had picked up their sibling from their school and were currently on their ride to the store, when suddenly…
—“(Y/N), who is ‘Michael Myers’?”— (S/N) innocently asks.
They almost choke whit their own saliva when they heard that name leaving their sister’s mouth, their body going a bit stiff.
—“Uh…”— you think about what to reply. —“Where did you hear that name?…”—
—“A classmate told me! She said the friend of their older brother was killed by Michael Myers!”— she replies, saying the last part in a more dramatic tone.
—“Uhuh…”— you hum thoughtfully.
—“So… Who is he?”—
—“Well…”— you pause for a moment. —“He was ones a boy that lived in Haddonfield, around 16 years ago, and then at Halloween he… He killed some people; his stepfather, his own sister and her boyfriend.”—
(S/N)’s eyes wide and her mouth slightly gapes.
—“Own sister?! How dared he?!”—
—“Yeah, but can’t blame him. His sister wasn’t a good person, in fact no one was really kind to him except his mother.”—
—“Oh…”— she pauses, trying to process the fact that not all siblings are as amazing as the one she has.
—“So yeah, that’s the story of Michael Myers, and his old house is now a source of spooky stories, claimed to be the ‘house of the Boogeyman’.”—
(Y/N) replied honestly, they rarely kept secrets from their sister and would often do their best to explain certain things, she will learn them anyways at some point so they rather to be the ones who explain it.
The little girl nods a bit, her gaze thoughtful.
—“Is his house like… Haunted?”—
—“Mmm… Nah, it’s just an old abandoned house. Sure, some teens may come in for kicks and giggles but that’s it”—
(S/N) nods again and then silently looks through the car window. Through the rear mirror (Y/N) could see the girl's expression, it was clear that she still has things to ask and wonder but chooses not to.
Eventually though, whatever was bugging the girl's mind becomes too much and she's forced to ask...
—"Can we go and see the house?..."—
(Y/N)'s grip on the steering wheel tightened, their body stiff again.
—"...Why?"— you simply ask.
The girl shrinks in her sit a bit, her expression a bit sheepish.
—"I... W-Well... While exiting the shcool I heard Terry say that his dad is going to demolish the Myers house in a few days, I got curious and... I just really want to see a real haunted house at least ones!"— she exclaims at the last part.
—"I just said it's not-"—
—"It looks haunted! Please! Pretty please (Y/N)!"— she begs. —"I promise I will look quick! Just a little peak and I won't ask you anything ever again!"—
—"Didn't you say the same yesterday when you wanted pizza for dinner?"— you ask in a teasing tone, subtly trying to change topic.
—"But now I'm super-duper serious! Please."—
The older sibling remains quiet, eyes gluet to the road yet their mind going completely coconuts. Part of them wanted their sister to know the truth, to know that just last year all grown up Michael Myers had escaped from the asylum he's been locked for so long, to know the people he killed, to know he kidnapped and nearly murdered his own young sister, to know that... His body is still to be found, despite originally being claimed as dead.
On the other hand, a more permisive part of them saw nothing wrong in making a quick visit. The old house is several blocks away from their neighborhood and police cars still patrolling the streets quite regulary, specially now durning October.
NO, their gut screams as they slouch on their sit a bit. This is probably a terrible idea! Did they forget all the horror movies and the ridiculously avoidable threats the main characters go through? Do they really want to get themselves in such mess?
But again, it's just a house... Some stupid old building that is barely standing.
And even though (Y/N) doesn't want to admit it... They too are kinda curious to see how the house looks after the last year events.
It's just a little peak.
Just a tiny glance that will last no longer that a minute or two.
Plus, they're god damn aware that if they don't accept (S/N) is going to give them a one hell of a time, and their nerves deserve some mercy.
With a sigh, (Y/N) corrects their position.
—"Just a small glance, okay?"—
At that, (S/N)'s face lights like a firework, her smile wide and bright.
—"Yes! Yes thank you so much (Y/N)! I promise I'll be super good from now on!"—
They simply hum with a smile, this is going to be a quick visit, just a minute and they'll be over it, going to the store to buy some groceries and maybe some new Halloween decorations, the holiday was still three weeks away but in Haddonfield, even after the Boogeyman's horrors, Halloween is still welcomed.
. . .
The car pulls and stops, at the opposite street from the old house.
Just like they imagined, neither time or the people of this town had mercy on the structure. The poor building looked even more vandalized and broken than before, still miraculously standing.
(Y/N) frowned, they’ve expected to feel the classic thrill, the unexplainable sense of danger that our primal instincts send to alert about any sketchy situation, yet… They’re feeling non of it, instead of irrational fear and dread they feel sadness, a melancholy so deep it consumes all other emotions, leaving a huge void in their chest.
The little girl stares at the house, frowning too, as if feeling the same deep sadness.
(Y/N) eventually stops the engine, making everything go silent.
It’s uncertain how long the duo was sitting like this, staring at the building and barely breathing. Eventually, a tiny voice breaks it.
—“Can we…”— she hesitates.
—“Want to look closer?”— you ask, unimpressed.
—“Y-Yeah…”— she shyly admits.
(Y/N) hesitates, not wanting to abandon the safety of the car. But again, what threats are out there?
With a sigh and a small nod, they unbuckle their belt as a silent 'okay'.
When out of the vehicle, the duo got a spine chill almost at the same time. The house looked even bigger, the old structure menacingly hovering over them, reminding how little they are.
But even then, even despite the house's menacing look...
The atmosphere remained melancholic, lonely.
—"The house looks so sad..."— your sister comments with a frown.
—"Indeed it does songbird... Indeed it does..."— you reply, having a frown as well.
—"Do you think the ghost of Michael Myers is looking at us?"— she asks innocently.
(Y/N) gives their sister a look.
—"(S/N), I said he was locked up, not that he died- "— you try to correct her.
—"He may have super powers! What if he can turn secretly into a ghost?!"— she exclaims, though more that scared she sounded excited about such possibility.
(Y/N) simply chucles at the girl's innocence and how quickly she could get out of track with her theories and imagination.
—"Yeah, maybe you're right. It's a cool super power though."— you comment, a bit more casually. —"But I think it's time for us to go sweetheart, remember we still have groceries to buy, as well some stuff for Halloween."—
(S/N) lets out a little gasp.
—"Oh my god you're right! Let's go let's go!- "—she grabs your hand ready to leave but abruptly stops. —"Wait!..."—
She suddenly starts to rummage in her school backpack, gaining a confused yet curious look from (Y/N). With a little 'aha!' she pulls out a drawing.
—"Okaaaay...? What are you planning young lady?"— you arch a brow.
—"It's a gift, I want to gift it to the house!"— she exclaims with a big smile.
—"...What?"— you look at her with confusion. —"You want to gift one of your drawings to an old house?"— your eyes narrow a bit when she nods.
—"Yeah! I mean... I don't like how sad the house looks, so gloomy and... Lonely. You always smile when I gift you a drawing, so I want to try it here!"—
(Y/N) remains silent, though a bit of warmth tickled in their chest at how innocent and sweet (S/N) is acting. They look towards the house, the path to the front door completely overgrown, the dry grass being as unwelcoming as possible, threatning to stick and pinch whoever is dumb enough to enter.
—"I will be fast! Just slide it through the mail slot and then we run back into the car!"—
Their eyes narrow even more.
—"You want to slide it inside?!"—
—"Yes! So the ghost can see and see what a cool artist I am, I even made it spooky!"—
(Y/N) finally takes a moment to glance at the drawing; it was an orange dinosaur, a spinosaurus to be more specific, that had an agry expression. What's the spooky part? The dinosaur is wearing a black witch hat with a red magic wand and a scarf. The drawing also had some things written, all of them spelled wrong of course, insead of saying 'Dinosaur! Happy Halloween!' it said 'Dienosore! Happee Hallowin!'.
(Y/N) couldn't help but to let out a small chuckle at the spelling, they definetely must start teaching their sister some grammar.
—"Alright... But we go together, okay? You slide that in there real quick and we're out."— you say, a bit more strictly.
—"Okay!... Well, maybe also this."— she takes out a little chocolate bar out of her pocket.
—"You want to also leave a treat for the ghost?"— you arch your brow again.
(S/N) simply giggles.
—"No silly, it's for the Boogeyman! So he eats this instead of my ankles."—
—"Didn't we agree that a ghost lives- "—
—"The Boogeyman is the ghost's dog!"—
(Y/N) let out a tired sigh as they roll their eyes, whatever lore (S/N) is having in her mind is getting progressively worse.
—"Okay okay, as you say. Let's hurry up, we don't want the store to get flooded and have all the best decorations sold."—
The little girl nods enthusiastically and takes their hand before they start walking.
(Y/N) is careful with their steps, making sure to not step on any thorn or stick that could potentially hurt their sister, (S/N) meanwhile was loyally following her sibling's footsteps, trusting them completely.
Ones they made their way to the front door, the odd sense of alarm starts to finally creep through (Y/N)'s back, like a bunch of bugs running under their skin in sheer panic, trying to escape and hide from whatever threat is looming in the air.
The older sibling takes a more protective pose, griping their sister's shoulder firmply and eyeing at every possible direction, looking for the sourse of that alarming feeling (S/N) was totally oblivious of.
The little girl, with a happy-go-lucky attitude slides the drawing and the candy through the mail slot like she said, and ones done turns toward (Y/N).
—"Done!"—
As soon as (S/N) said that, her small frame is yanked towards the fence, away from the sketchy building.
—"Good... Now let's go."— you say, your tone a bit more urgent.
(S/N) glances at them with a little frown, noticing the change in their attitude.
—"Are you scared, (Y/N)?"— she innocently asks.
The question made them stop in their tracks, they pause for a moment but eventually sigh.
—"A bit, maybe..."— you reply honestly.
The girl frowns more, but then her expression brightens as she wraps her arms around her sibling's waist.
—"Don't worry (Y/N)! If the Boogeyman dares to come for you I'm going to protect you!"—
Such statemant made them release a scoff.
—"You? A little garden gnome is going to safe the day?"— you tease.
—"Yes! If a monster tries to do something to you then I'll uh... I'll step on their big toe and slap their elbows! Yeah!"— she exclaims, determination shining in her eyes.
Though the childrish threat didn't soothe (Y/N)'s mind, it did lightened their mood a bit.
—"Step on toes, huh? Watch out sis, that's some very serious threats right there."—
—"I know! Bet I'll make the monster cry."— she grins mischievously.
—"You sure? You won't back away at the last second? Just like you did this summer when you tried to catch a gekko in our backyard."— you chuckle at her angry face.
—"The lizard was scary! I didn't know it could climb on walls!"— she childishly whines as she gives you a little punch in the arm. —"And stop laughing! It wasn't funny!"—
—"Didn't you hysterically laugh when you spooked me with that hideous horse mask on?"—
—"Thas was fuuny! The gekko running up walls wasn't!"—
The both siblings started to go back and forth with their little argument of what was or not funny, the argument at some point turned into a small playful fight that was anything but serious. At some point the duo lean against the car, loudly cackling and hugging each other for additional support.
Their roudy interaction didn't go unnoticed, appart from some disapproving glares from the local neighbors, a pair of dark eyes oberved them as well.
The icy blue eyes of the monster hiding in the darkest part of the house watched the duo since their arrival. At first, he was indifferent, just a pair of dummies coming to retell the same story over and over... But eventually, his opinion changed, their dynamic and behavoir was something unique to him.
The way that little girl wasn't afraid of the 'Boogeyman' living inside and how calm her sibling was towards her request to come closer was something he never seen before. Sure some teens would drag their young brothers and sisters towards his old house to give them a scare, terrify them with stories and how he is going to supposedly come and take them, but these two...
Something awakened inside of him, not just curiousity but also something bittersweet... If things had turned the way he wanted he may had the same relationship with boo... The same strong bond he always craved since childhood.
When the car eventually left the neighborhood, that odd awakened feeling vanished as well, making his chest feel empty and cold again...
He has no idea why or what is going on with him. Why some strangers affected him in a such personal level. All he knows is that now the emptiness is being slowly replaced with an unhinged desire...
Desire to find these two and observe them again...
#nothomegal fic#michael myers#rz michael myers#michael myers x reader#slasher x reader#gn reader#rz michael myers x reader#halloween
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secret santa 🎅
Isaac Lahey who works at a Christmas tree farm 👀
I was kicking my feet with excitement as soon as you sent this.
It had been a long shift, and there were only so many Christmas songs that could be played on repeat before it began to drive a person mad. Isaac was cold through, his leather jacket not quite enough to keep him comfortable as he showed people around the farm, helping them pick out the perfect tree for their home.
He wasn't in a bad mood exactly, but as the day dragged on he wasn't exactly joyful. His feet hurt, and so did his cheeks as he forced a smile to everyone that walked by him. Every "happy holidays!" spoken in his direction was met with the same grin and a gentle wave, and at first it had felt honest, but now it was more like an act. He wanted to be at home, in the warmth of his bed, not surrounded by people.
That was of course, until you showed up. He didn't know why you made him nervous, or if the zoo bustling about in his stomach was rather a bad meal from earlier instead of the so called butterflies, but he felt something when he saw you. Something good.
"Hey!" you waved cheerily as you approached him. You were approaching him. oh god. "I want the best Christmas tree on this farm, where would I find that?"
Isaac was stuck for a minute, staring, until he saw a familiar face by your side. Lydia Martin, the redhead sending him a knowing look.
"Well, how big is your living room?" Isaac asks, trying not to sound as though he's scrambling for words.
"Average living room size I believe." there is a laugh with the words and Isaac grins at the sound of it. It's better than any of the Christmas music he's heard over the past month. Sweet sounding and hopeful.
"Right this way." Isaac leads you and Lydia off to some of the tallest trees, and watches as you look up at each one, inspecting them as though the decision is of the greatest importance. It is important to you that you find the perfect tree for your home. One's Christmas tree can make or break the Christmas spirit of those invited over, you believe.
"What'd you think of this one Lydia?" You ask your redheaded friend, who already has her own tree at home and isn't much interested in the outing. What she is interested in however, is the current presence of Isaac Lahey, in particular the way he is looking at you.
"It's a nice tree, a little the small side though." She glances to Isaac, "What are your thoughts?"
"My thoughts?" Isaac startles, eyes flickering between the two girls before him and the tree beside you all. "I think it's a tree—a good tree. Tall." He doesn't know exactly why you're having this effect on him, but he can tell Lydia is enjoying the show. She always did like to watch people squirm.
You're smiling, now not at the tree, but at him. "It is tall," you agree, "But is it tall enough?"
"Well you've gotta make sure you can still decorate the top of it, you don't want it to be too tall." He's slowly sliding back into normality, back into doing his job. He's watching you, and you're watching the tree. The slow nod of your head and the squint of your eyes tells you're deep in thought about this and when you finally turn back to him you seem uncertain.
"Are you sure it's tall enough?" you ask, knowing Lydia's opinion is different to your Christmas tree guide's. You have a step ladder for the tall parts of the tree to make decorating easier but you think if you go any taller it won't be of much use. Still, a tall tree is a good tree.
"Trust me," Isaac smiles, "it's tall enough."
And the crazy thing was you did trust him, and soon enough you were transporting the tree to the car. Lydia was only a little upset that you hadn't taken her opinion on board, but she was more so intrigued by the way Isaac stopped you before you could get into the car. He called your name, of which he had recently learnt from hearing Lydia speak to you, and jogged up to your side.
"Hey, I wanted to ask you something." His breath comes out in a fog from the cold, his cheeks tinted a light pink, and the look on confusion on your face is masked by the sweet smile you'd shown him before.
"Yeah?" you seem to know where this is going, courtesy of a glance from Lydia on the other side of the car.
"I was wondering if I could get your number? Maybe we could get a coffee sometime, if you're interested?" He's nervous, but trying not to be. Playing it cool is his specialty, or at least he thought it was. Now he's not so sure.
A gentle laugh leaves your lips, but not in a mocking way. You're glowing, sunlight covering you, though that could just be his imagination. "Sure, I'd love to." You pull out your phone and Isaac does the same with his own, and the exchange of digits is fast.
"I'm Isaac by the way." Isaac extends a hand to you after you've put your phone away, and you take it, giving his hand a firm shake.
"Pleasure doing business with you, Isaac. I'll see you soon." You let go of his hand and send him a wink before opening the passenger side door to the car.
"Yeah, see you soon." Isaac parrots back as you slide inside, the car starting as you go to leave the farm. It had been a long shift, but Isaac felt hopeful now, and as another Christmas song began to play over the speaker, he decided to sing along.
I hope you like it Gillian, Merry (late) Christmas!
#isaac lahey fanfiction#isaac lahey#isaac lahey x reader#isaac lahey x y/n#isaac lahey fanfic#isaac lahey fluff#isaac lahey fic#isaac lahey angst#isaac lahey teen wolf#Isaac lahey series#Isaac lahey imagine#isaac lahey imagines#isaac lahey one shot#isaac lahey one-shot#isaac lahey oneshots#isaac lahey one-shots#isaac lahey x femreader#isaac lahey x reader insert#isaac lahey x female reader#teen wolf fanfiction#teen wolf x reader#teen wolf isaac lahey#isaac lahey story#teen wolf fanfic#teen wolf fic#teen wolf imagine#teen wolf imagines#isaac lahey drabble#isaac lahey headcannons#holiday celebration 🍾
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Spencer Reid x Aaron Hotchner Holiday Headcanons
for @coastalchutoy as part of my New Year's Celebration
After Spencer finished knitting the scarf for his Doctor Who cosplay he starts working on a Christmas sweater for Aaron. It takes him a long time since they spend a lot of time with each other and he wants to keep it a secret, but he finishes it right before the holidays.
Aaron is genuinely happy about the surprise and wears the sweater every chance he gets.
To everyone's surprise, Aaron actually wears the sweater to the holiday party at the BAU (even though it is hideous).
Aaron knows that Spencer didn't really celebrate Christmas as a child due to his mother's illness, so he really wants him to feel loved around the holidays. They spend as much quality time as possible.
The first time Aaron and Spencer go on a walk to look at all the decorated houses in the neighborhood, it warms both of their hearts to be able to spend this time of year together.
Spencer quickly becomes part of every holiday tradition Aaron has with his son. Spencer is there to decorate the tree with them, to go visit Santa in the mall and to bake cookies.
Even though Spencer helped packing all the present, he still displays a similar child-like wonder in his eyes as Jack when the whole family enters the living room on Christmas morning.
On New Year's Eve Spencer confesses to Aaron that he had never had a New Year's kiss before. Of course that would change that night.
Author's Note: I made this post for my current celebration. Please note that I don't usually take requests for mlm ships!
#aaron hotchner#hotchreid#hotchreid headcanon#hotchreid fanfic#hotchreid fanfiction#spencer reid x aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner x spencer reid
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heyyy i was wanting to request! where reader and ellie has a kid and its christmas night, yall are putting the presents up and yall can hear your kid moving around in their bed and yall run to yalls room to not get caught, just a silly fanfic really! 😊
Christmas Shenanigans
Ellie williams x fem reader!
A/n: yes my anon ! At your service ! I don't particularly like this but I hope you guys do :)
My masterlist!
Warnings: none, just pure fluffyness, maybe some language but not much, just slightly flirtatious Ellie.
The warmth from the fireplace is one of the things keeping you happy and content. You were currently sipping some hot cocoa, sitting on the couch as Ellie approaches you. "She's finally out, we can start whenever." It was currently Christmas eve and Ellie had just put your daughter down for bed. "Little mites incredibly excited." She says with a smile etched onto her face, plopping down on the couch, next to you. You smile also leaning into her touch. "When should we get the presents out here?" You look over at the tree, you guys were waiting for Autumn to fall asleep. "We could do it now, speedily." You nod, going to get up. "What time are we going to see Joel in the morning?" You inquire. She also gets up. "Well we would probably be there at around mid day, he's putting on a lunch for the fam."
She goes to your guys room which was thankfully on the other end of your daughter's bedroom. You follow after her. "Sounds like a plan." You go into the closet getting the already wrapped presents. You grab a few and so does Ellie. Quietly making your way down. "This kid is spoiled." You laugh out. "Dont talk like thatt. Only the best for my little princess." You laugh at her. "What am I then? Chopped liver." She let's out her own laugh. "Dont worry, you'll get the best present later on in the evening." She winks at you, and you just roll your eyes. Always gotta be joking about something.
You had finished not too long ago the room was dark as you were ready to go up, but you suddenly hear the floorboards in your daughters room creak. You and Ellie both look at one another, quietly but at a fast pace, going into your guys shared bedroom. Ellie plops on the bed with you hugging your form and smiling like crazy. "Well Mrs claws I think thats a job well done." Ellie says with a small smirk. "Oh, so you're Santa?" She nods, proudly. "Why ofcourse, and you're my little hoe." That cocky grin on her face says it all. "You're trouble williams." You push her off getting onto your side of the bed. "Uh uh, that's Santa. To you." She smirks going to her side of the bed. "Night you." She smiles. "Night my lil helper."
"Mama, mommy!" You've been awoken. Watching as Ellie fully awakens. "Hey lil munchkin." She helps Autumn up onto the bed. "Its Christmas!" She beams with excitement. "I know! I think someone's paid you a lil visit down stairs. Why don't you go check it out and me and mommy will be down soon yeah?" She nods her lil head, letting Ellie set her down. You then roll over to look at her. "Merry Christmas baby." She leans down to kiss you when you reply. "Merry Christmas Els." You smile at her. "Better get up huh." You say, beginning to sit up. "Yes, or else the little monkey will bother us more." You laugh gently. "But she is very adorable."
Ellie nods heading down there with you. "When are we seeing grandpa, mama?" She looks up at Ellie. "Soon, but first! Let's open some presents." "Yeahhhh." Your daughter jumps with excitement. You go into the kitchen to prepare some hot cocoa for the three of you, bringing it out once you're done. "Thank you mommy." Autumn smiles at you. "That's alright love. Right let's get to opening presents."
You all had a fun filled morning opening presents, spending time with one another. You arrived at Joel's not too long ago. "Grandpa!" Your daughter squeals going to hug him. He picks her up. "Hiya kiddo!" He smiles, hugging back. He smiles at you and Ellie. "She wake ya up early?" You laugh at how he just knew. "Did she what." He looks at her gently setting her down but going to bend down to her level. "I got you a lil somethin princess." He smiles at her gently poking her tummy. She giggles. "Yayyy." You shake your head with a big smile. "Aren't you lucky!" She nods. "Thanks grandpa!" He stands back up going upstairs.
"Good manners." Ellie smiles at the small girl. Joel soon after comes back down with a pretty pink wrapped box. "Here you are." He hands it to her, her face lit up as she opens it. It was a cute little t-shirt saying 'grandad's girl' It was adorable and it was obvious she loved it. "Can I put it on now?" She smiles wide. "Can't say no to that." He then smiles. She goes into the bathroom to do so, coming down. "Tadaaa." She twirls. "That shirt is very true." He winks at her as she giggles. "Actually she's mama's princess." Ellie punches Joel's arm lightly. "I think I've won her heart more." He ruffles Ellies hair, walking away. "I'm her parent!" She huffs, you rub her arm. "You're crazy." She laughs putting her arm around your shoulder. "Yeah but you love me." "That i do."
#elliewilliams#ellie the last of us#ellie tlou#ellie williams#ellie williams smut#ellie williams the last of us smut#ellie x fem reader#ellie x reader
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Will you ever make these Street Kid Spider fic or art? I still have your AU somewhere in the back of my mind
(Street kid!Spider AU introduction post)
I’m honestly amazed ppl still want it 😭 🫶 I’m currently a bit busy but here’s a little drabble to quench your hunger;
.
Kiri couldn’t help but aww at the cats curling around her, meowing in curiosity. Their old neighborhood had little to none strays but those who survived there had been very agressive. It was a surprise to see such a big pack of animals practically welcome her in.
Then again, she always had a way with fauna.
Traversing the abandoned mall, so overgrown it long turned into a jungle, she eyes the rusted metal and fading plaques. The sight was almost apocalyptic, if not for the blooming greenery in every crevice.
And then a loud clang erupted through h the corridor. Strays jumped in surprise, hiding behind their new friend, but the noise was made by a falling metal pipe. Nothing to be afraid of.
However, the featherlight steps that followed were a more valid reason for alarm. They sounded human. Kiri wasn’t alone.
The girl was taught better than this, she told herself as she followed the noise. She was taught better than to wander the abandoned shopping district after school and follow mysterious sounds.
She knew better, she thought, carefully climbing a tree into a dark attic.
The room seemed completely empty at first, safe for the napping cats on the old mattress, but the more Kiri looked, the more evidence she gathered that the old storage space was clearly lived in. There were personal items scattered about, like stacks of old, worn comic journals and then a smaller stack of equally worn sketchbooks. There was a tattered skateboard placed against the wall, and graffiti on the other side of the room, with spray-paint bottles resting on the floor. Above the mattress hung taped Christmas lights, and under them, a number of sketch pages detailing environments, stray animals, plants, people, and even some mythical creatures from the Na’vi religion, like the strong angstik or the gentle atokirina.
A Na’vi artist? Kiri thought, smiling. The stranger she’d heard not long ago suddenly seemed much less threatening.
“Have your mama never taught you how to knock?” Then came a raspy voice from behind her, sending an immediate chill down the girl’s spine. It felt cold, but youthful. Its owner couldn’t be much older than her. Slowly she turned, her blue eyes meeting a pair of deep brown ones, staring directly into her soul.
It was a teenage boy, but quite the bulky one for his age, if his scratched and bruised biceps were anything to go by. He wore a pair of camo pants, decorated with beads and trinkets, tucked into miss-matched boots. There was some hand-crafted jewelry on his wrists, and a necklace tied around his neck two times over. Some small wooden trinket hung off of it, together with a small crystal, but the clothing was by far not what grabbed Kiri’s attention most.
This stranger had what she could only describe as a lion’s mane. His hair, pale at the ends and dark at the roots, curled and coiled around his face, then shoulders, like a pack of vipers and she could see braids, big and small, hang in no particular pattern, as if the kid braided them out of boredom and just left them there.
“Uh, sorry? I got curious. Your pets are cute…”
“They’re not pets. I don’t keep them here, and they don’t rely on me for food.” He responded, deadpan. “You can’t own a cat, or any animal really, only be part of their pack.”
Kiri’s eyes widened, surprised at the respect he payed these creatures, then proceeded to smile once more. His manner of speaking about living beings very much sounded like something her grandma Mo’at would say.
“Of course. Never thought otherwise.” She responded gently, and the stranger relaxed his stance, carefully approaching. Kiri could now see that the "print" on his old shirt was actually a painted image of a viperwolf, another mythical creature spoken of in Na’vi legends.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Kiri. Kiri te Suli Kìreysì'ite.” She reached her hand to her forehead and gestured forward, gauging if he’d know what it means. Na’vi culture often fell victim to people who liked it only for the visual appeal, but the greeting was a lesser known sign, only something the people did towards their own. “My family moved into town couple days ago.”
The blonde tilted his head akin to a feline, eyeing her face, before his brows relaxed and he repeated the gesture, proceeding to switch into fluent Na’vi, which was another pleasant surprise. “Spider. This is kind of my house.”
“I’m really sorry.”
“Eh, you haven’t stolen anything yet so I’ll let it slide.” He shrugged, smirking. “Welcome to Awa’atlu. How’s the city treating you?”
#atwow#atwow au#atwow fanfiction#atwow sully family#atwow spider#spider atwow#spider socorro#avatar spider#digital art#avatar 2#avatar the way of water#spider avatar#avatar way of water#Kiri sully#atwow kiri#Kiri atwow#avatar kiri#street kid!Spider
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The Simple Things In Life (Rhett Abbott x Reader)
Summary: A small act of kindness on your family's part can make a huge difference for someone else
Tagging: @floydsmuse
Christmas, though one of yours and Rhett's favorite holidays, was sometimes a tough one seeing as the big warehouse behind the church had become a shelter for the homeless. You and Rhett had several friends currently living there and Pastor Jim had been having trouble getting volunteers to come and help with day-to-day activities, but it surprised you how close the community actually was and how devoted many of the farmers and ranchers were to helping out.
"Alright Doodlebug, c'mon over and help," Rhett said as he unbuckled Amy from her carseat and let her out of the truck.
He gave Amy the lightest grocery bag and into the building the three of you went. Getting out of the farm store across the street from her school, had been hell enough with last minute grocery shoppers, but thank God you had some of the leftovers from the stock at Royal and Cecelia's own farm store to bring down with you.
You and Rhett were surprised to see how festive and cheerful the place had become overnight with a tall Christmas tree in one corner of the huge room and the rows and rows of cafeteria tables each decorated with a little centerpiece or miniature tree.
You and Rhett went up to the second floor which had been converted into dormitory rooms for the residents until you reached Room 222, belonging to a friend of the Abbotts.
"Go ahead and knock sweetie pie," you told her.
Amy knocked three times on the door until it was answered by a familiar face, a heavy set man with a pleasantly round face, short curling grey hair and a laughing look in his eyes.
"Hey! There's my favorite kiddo!" he greeted happily.
"Hi Mister Herbie!!!" Amy chirped as she ran up and hugged him.
Herbie Dickenson laughed as he returned the hug and took the grocery bag from her. "The hell are you doin here Rhett?" he laughed.
"Wise men come bearing Christmas gifts, Herbie," Rhett chuckled.
"C'mon get in here," Herbie told you. "The hallways are always a shitshow this time of year."
You, Amy and Rhett entered the bare looking room and set the groceries down in one corner of the room. "You doin ok Herbie?" Rhett asked him.
"Aw much better than the other day," Herbie told him, sitting on the worn out ottoman he used frequently for a chair. "Gettin around's alot easier but the asthma's a different story. How 'bout you? How's the farm?"
"I'd say everything's good," Rhett told him. "Is uh.....are the Pavlachenkos still your roommates?"
"Still roomin," Herbie said with a nod. "Tania says they still haven't found her brother though. Ya know, I keep hopin they do but....I dunno."
Rhett felt a deep, burn beginning to well in his chest and springing into his eyes but it never came forth. "If you see Tania and her family," you said. "We made some kolach at the store. We thought she might want some."
"Aw honey, you guys are too good to us," Herbie told you. "We don't deserve ya."
"Herbie, ya'll have been through enough," Rhett told him. "We've got some canned goods and some other stuff in there from the farm store. It ain't much but, (y/n) and I hope you and the missus will appreciate it."
Herbie dug into his bag, laughing a little as he found jars of huckleberry and apricot preserves, a few wedges of cheese, a loaf or two of bread, smoked sausages, fresh cans of soup and bundles of vegetables, all of which had been surplus from the Abbott's own farm store.
"You're too good to us ya know that?" Herbie said, sniffing back the tears of gratitude as he hugged you, Rhett and Amy.
"It's the least we can do Herbie," you told him.
"Mister Herbie, can you open mine next?" Amy chirped again.
"Of course honey, c'mere, come and sit," Herbie told her.
Amy sat on the ottoman beside him and eagerly watched as Herbie opened the gift that all of you had helped her make. There were hats, mittens, scarves, wool socks and even a pair of knitted Christmas stockings that had the names of Herbie and his wife on them.
"Aw Nancy's gonna love these," he said giving Amy the biggest hug he could give.
You spent most of the evening with Herbie and visiting with some of the other residents, exchanging a few gifts here and there. You went to Mrs. Brodsky's room where Amy gave her a rather belated Hannukah gift, a little knitted square with a blue, white and gold menorah on it along with something Elie and Sarah had meant to send the week before. Even still, the elderly Ukrainian woman was more than happy to see all of you most of all.
Brian O'Dowd, who lived down the hall from Mrs. Brodsky, couldn't thank you enough for the maple syrup Royal had bottled for him. Being fresh out of prison had been tough on him, having done a three year stint for assisting in a car burglary, yet where others hadn't given him a chance, your family would and it was Rhett who had delivered the good news to Brian that Royal had agreed to take him on as a ranch hand so long as he stayed out of trouble.
Fanny King, the lead singer in the church choir, was surprised beyond all reasoning when she had received a new pair of boots from the both of you and a new coat for her husband. You and Rhett had always felt bad for Fanny and her family, her husband having been a Wabang police officer for years but his pension never having been enough to pay the nasty landlord that had run their old place. Despite the hardships they had faced, you and Rhett had stayed close with Fanny and Teddy, helping where you could and Rhett helping Teddy scout out a location to try and start his own barbershop.
You and Rhett were happier than a pair of clams in the sea, knowing that even if it was just a small little bit you could bring to your friends, it would make all the difference. You shared a quick meal with them in the cafeteria before heading home and hoped that their holidays were made just a little bit brighter.
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snow | m. schumacher
pairing: mick schumacher x reader
word count: 870 words (thank god)
request: nope
prompt: snowball fights ⎯ “i’m going to get you back for that, [name]!” from this prompt list. not my prompts, credits to the person who created it!warnings: language, snowball war, both mick and reader have golden retriever energy in this. not proofread
a/n: this is really short but i hope you like it anyway! REMINDER THAT MY REQUESTS ARE CLOSED, EVEN IF IT’S FOR THE SPECIAL. pls, i don’t want to close my askbox but if i keep getting i’ll have to turn it off.
my masterlist / 25 days of christmas masterlist
christmas in switzerland was something she’d never experienced before. everywhere she looked was covered in white show, the houses and cabins seemed like ones she saw only in movies, everything was too perfect.
the first day of snow was one of the best days of her life. it didn’t matter that she woke up sick the next day, she wouldn’t change the previous day for anything.
it started with mick waking her up sweetly, leaving a trail of soft kisses all over her face, her jaw, and her neck.
“wake up,” he said, feeling her breathing pattern change. “i know you’re awake, open your eyes,” he continued, nuzzling his face in her neck.
“no,” she grunted, wrapping her arms around his neck still with her eyes closed, she curled her fingers in his hair. “why are you waking me up at this ungodly hour?” she asked, peeking one eye open and seeing everything bright.
“it’s like 9am,” mick laughed, grabbing her waist and turning them over so she was on top of him.
“exactly,” she said.
“have you looked outside?” he asked.
“no, i’m cold,” she hid her face in his chest, her hand throwing the covers over her head.
“come on, look out the window,” he chuckled, his fingers playing with her hair.
she moved, placing her chin in his chest and looking up at him, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.
“why?”
“just do it,” he laughed.
she did, she turned her head to the side and saw the sky.
“it’s morning, yeah, i see that,”
“you don’t see it?” he asked.
“see what?”
“come on,” he said, moving her to the side so he could stand up, he grabbed her hands and pulled.
“nooo,” she groaned dramatically, but let him drag her to the edge of the bed, “why are you so keen on getting me to watch out your window, i-” she said as they walked to the window, she expected to see his backyard looking like it did yesterday. but instead it was covered in white, fresh snow.
“it snowed last night.” he smiled.
“aaah!” she yelled, grabbing his hand and walking down the stairs, catching the attention of his dog. “angie, come on, we’re playing in the snow!”
“wait, hold on, wait, babe!” he called to her, only stopping her when he wrapped both arms around her to hold her back, “you can’t go out like that. you’ll get sick.”
“oh.” she said, “right, yeah,” mick let her down, going to get at least a jacket and boots for her, since she was currently without shoes or socks on. when he returned she was nowhere to be found, and the backdoor was open.
angie’s loud, excited barking and her joyful laugh was all the indication he needed.
“baby, you’ll get sick!” mick said, already wearing his own snow jacket and shoes, he walked to her, handing her the jacket.
“i’m sorry, but look!” she pouted, “it’s snow! we’ll get to have a white christmas after all. and look at angie, look at her little footprints,”
“yes, it’s all really pretty. now please put on these socks and shoes,” he crouched down, his back towards her. “jump,” he said. a few seconds later she was hanging from his back, he could feel her shivering against him. he walked her to a bench he had outside in the patio, he wiped away the snow and sat her there to help her put on her socks and shoes. “come on, cinderella,” he joked, but she was too enthralled watching the trees, the small fountain, everything covered in snow. he put on her shoes, and just when he was tying her shoe he felt something so incredibly cold hit his back.
he looked up, a shocked look on his face as she stared at him with happiness written all over her face.
“oh, you don’t know what you’ve just started,” he warned her, she continued giggling. “snowball war? i’m going to get you back for that.” he declared.
“i’ve been waiting for this moment for so long.” she smiled.
“i’ll give you a head start,” he announced, “you have ten seconds to run away and make as many snow balls as you can, after that, it’s game on.”
she didn’t waste a single moment, she pushed herself up, letting out a mix of shriek and laugh as he tried to hold her back, but she freed herself and pushed him back. she found refuge on the side of the house, angie ran to her as she was making as many snow balls as she could. after mick finished counting she held her breath counting in her head, once she reached fifteen and didn’t hear him, she dared one peek to where he was. but he wasn’t there, and she couldn’t see him anywhere else.
angie’s bark alerted her, she turned just in time to see a snowball flying her way, hitting her shoulder.
“it’s war!” she laughed, throwing more of the white snow at him.
they felt like two kids at that moment, unaware of everything else going on in the world, the only thing that mattered was them and their fun. they’d worry about hot chocolate and medicine later.
#mick schumacher imagine#mick schumacher one shot#mick schumacher x reader#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#mick schumacher fanfic#mick schumacher#mick schumacher fanfiction#mick schumacher oneshot#mick schumacher drabble#mick schumacher fic#mick schumacher fan fiction#mick schumacher fluff#mick schumacher x y/n#mick schumacher x you#f1 fandom#f1 fiction#f1 fanfiction#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 drivers one shot#f1 drivers x reader#f1 drivers#f1 drabble#formula 1#formula one x reader#formula 1 imagine#formula one imagine
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The Bird And The Man
Chapter Two
Rated: Explicit | Warnings: none (for now)
Ao3
Chapter One | Chapter Three
You learned that the garden is also where Orpheus goes to exchange books with Mister Joseph. The hunter and survivor sides of the manor have two different libraries.
Every other week, he will either return a book or exchange a book for one from the hunters’ library.
Mister Joseph, the Photographer, is a very respectful man. Old for sure and has certain expectations for those who interact with him. You bow, call him ‘sir’, and he, in turn, treats you with respect. He is quite charming too! The sort of charming you study to write for a character in your story.
Currently, Nightmare is doing multiple matches this week so you won't be seeing him in the garden.
The spot in the manor you enjoy being in but are sharing the space with another usually is the living room. Frederick Kreiburg practices his pieces here. The man keeps to himself and you are too busy in your own world to bother him.
Like two cats in the same room.
Currently, the Composer is in a match leaving you in the living room full of silence save for the crackling of the fireplace. The door creaks open but you are too lost in this particular scene to notice.
“Hypnos.” Familiar rich baritone voice.
To say you have a crush on the person you admire does not seem odd to you, however, you do not expect him to like you back. Being realistic you both are on two different levels and social status.
He is well renowned while you are nobody…
Lifting your head and turning it to see Orpheus not far from you, “Good evening.” The door closed behind him, “Need something?” Curious as he crosses the room to sit beside you, his body turning towards you.
“I have an inquiry for you if you are inclined to answer.”
You place the pen inside of your notebook before closing it, “Okay.”
He smiles, a polite one that does not reach his eyes, “Seems you and my counterpart seem to be close.” The Novelist begins, “Going by the setting and his behavior, this has been going on for quite some time.”
“A few days! I think. We met by chance.” You add.
“Ah, I see.” He adjusts his monocle, “Interesting.”
“What about you and Mister Joseph? Don't you both enjoy each other's company? Talk about books and such?”
“No, we keep our interactions limited. Best to not establish bonds.”
“That sounds rather sad,” Not realizing the hint in his last sentence, ��What if you read a really good book and he read it too? Wouldn't you want to share the joy?”
Twice he blinks before frowning, “This is not a social party, Hypnos.” Stern, “Such familiarity can cloud judgments and clouded judgments can cost us.”
You stare then finally it dawns on you the implications of his words, “He… You…” Trying to find the words.
“He is a hunter. There will come a time when you will face him. Then what will you do?” He takes your hand gently, “It will be painful to see someone you befriend attempting to harm you.”
This is true… Many of the survivors keep to themselves and if they seek out comfort it is momentarily. No one uses the hunter/survivor neutral areas because… Would anyone want to befriend a hunter?
Yet… It is lonely here. Even though all the survivors work together, party together, and gather together to meet a new survivor; they all have their own goals.
Orpheus included.
“I appreciate the worry but it is hard to think you are being sincere when I can't tell what your true intention is.” It is no secret that Orpheus hides his emotions well. His charm and demeanor are well practiced, like an actor built for a role. You pull your hand away uneasily, “Sorry.” And you truly are.
“Take it as advice. Whether you adhere to it is your choice.” He does not stay on the topic as you expected and his body language adjusts from formal to informal, relaxed. “Might I ask what you are writing of late?”
Maybe he is curious, or maybe he is trying to ease the tension he created, you do not think about it before you light up like a Christmas tree.
“It's a science fiction story!”
Orpheus listens to you ramble, naturally charmed as a fellow author, but it irks him. Or maybe it hurts him to see you are one of the survivors that are trusting. You so freely speak about your book without considering he could steal the idea. He has more pull than you and none would suspect him to be a thief unlike you who has not one book released.
Or rather, those that have been released are ghostwriting.
How does he know? Easy, one of the authors he had assisted with a promotion for had you ghostwriting for them. Little secrets spilled between many glasses of champagne.
“I asked Mister Balsa about the logistics. Tesla’s inventions are fascinating.”
Orpheus nods as you hold his attention.
“Mr. Orpheus, what inspired you?”
“Hm,” Pretending to think about it, “I could ask the same of you, Hypnos. Though you have said it is your name, its meaning is interesting.”
“Hypnos, god of sleep.” Was there something symbolic about it? There were strange symbols at times on the walls, Alice points out at times mysteries of the manor with no answers and mounting questions. “If you think I'm part of this game—!”
“Not all. It is an observation. All these people selected and promised, which leads to the question: what was promised to you?”
Everyone has secrets, a past, a reason to fight. Each has an agenda, and most have already spilled blood on their hands. Terrifying honestly.
“Nothing exciting…” Going quiet, “Sorry, I am not as exciting as the others.”
Orpheus does not push, things like this take time, and well, this manor gives plenty of it.
There are a few more idle conversations you have before heading off to lunch. Orpheus asks to accompany you if you would have him.
Time flows, like water pouring out of a basin into a river. Poetic. You like poetry, it always says so much in a few words. As you stare off into the distance, your warm breath is seen in the cold as you stand outside waiting for someone.
The manor will be celebrating the usual winter solstice soon, with plenty of games and gifts. A joyous time from what Emma told you— Almost. The horrors are still there, they are part of this new life. A life you want to make the most of.
The snow has made your spot a winter paradise, though not ideal to stay and write at, but it has a different use. Here you stand in the snow all bundled up, silent at first then the sound of crushing snow as your friend approaches you. Nightmare looks rather silly in the Christmas outfit he is made to wear this year.
“You made it!” The Hunter finds himself hugged immediately by you, one that lingers. “I got you a gift!” Pull out the gift from the inside of your coat.
The birdman tilts his head and then gingerly opens the gift, the neat wrap torn by pale gold claws, his body once slouching now stands at its full height as he holds a book in his deformed hand.
“It's the first print,” What is in his hand is your book. “Edger made the cover.” Pointing at the painted cover, “Thank you, Orpheus.”
The first print is always the most important, it is the start of the journey for an author. It is proof that years of hard work have gotten you here, and if the book fails then so be it! No one can take away the joy of the poof of achievement. The fact you are sharing this with him both hurts and warms him. Hurts because he is not the man you see every day, he is no longer the novelist searching for answers to a past he has no answers to; he is a monster now who hurts those like yourself every match with a sadist glee he knows is not himself. Yet, it warms his heart to see you look upon him as if nothing has changed, that he is still the novelist you admire, and thank him for the guidance.
Nightmare's head nudges against your forehead, twice he does this before lifting his free hand towards your face, the heat of your breath (it smells of the cinnamon apple from a treat you had) against the beak of his mask. His thumb outlined your painted lips smudging it in the process while making you suddenly aware of what he is trying to do.
You kiss the bird creature's thumb softly and lean your head to the side as you close your eyes, your hand grips his bicep, and he makes a sound similar to a chirp.
“Orpheus.” In the voice he never heard, the sort that is slightly above a whisper to be heard by one person within your personal space and shy enough to be unsure how to go forward.
#orpheus x you#idv orpheus x you#orpheus x reader#nightmare x reader#idv nightmare#nightmare x you#identity v x you#identity v x reader#identity v#idv reader insert#idv orpheus#idv novelist#idv x reader#reader insert
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