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ruggiezz · 5 months

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— CHRISTMAS SPIRIT : twisted wonderland

[synopsis] they couldn’t go back home for the holidays, so how do they spend them with you?

[characters] ace, riddle, kalim, vil, malleus

[content warnings] food is mentioned

★﹕ACE TRAPPOLA — building a snowman

The streets were decorated with colorful lights, lamp posts had ribbons wrapped around them, and kids were running around playing with the snow. You could tell it was Christmas season from a mile away just by looking at the huge Christmas tree that decorated the park.

Even if it was around 7 pm, the streets were full of people shopping at the last hour. The windows of the stores were all advertising discounts to get more sales, from expensive items to affordable ones.

Ace had already bought your gift weeks ago. It was something you mentioned you wanted once, you probably had forgotten about it, but he had saved for months just to see the smile on your face when you opened it.

While walking to a cafe Cater recommended, you saw some kids making a snowman together in a nearby park while their parents chatted while sitting on a bench. Grabbing Ace's hand, you rushed to a spot in the park and rolled some snow to make the body. He protested at first but he got to work almost immediately.

Helping you decorate it was the fun part. He collected some pebbles while you continued molding it. As he decorated the face so it would look like it was frowning, he laughed at you for protesting about the facial expression. Ace said it was ‘the best snowman in the park’ and that you both ‘won against those kids’. You grabbed your scarf and wrapped it around the snowman, claiming it was so it wouldn't 'feel cold'.

Sadly, you forgot the weather was below 0°; but before you could even say something or complain, you felt Ace wrapping his red scarf carefully around your neck.

“Sheesh, I’m your boyfriend, and you’re favoring a snowman over me. I'm going to freeze now, you know? …I'm just teasing, let's go or we won't find any tables available.”

★﹕RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS — decorating a gingerbread house

Usually, Sam makes Christmas sales in the Mystery shop around December, but this year it made a huge fuss because of the new items he added. The students that stayed in school grounds were buying almost everything, so you thought you could check it out.

All the items were eye-catching, but a particular gingerbread house set stood out the most. It was selling fast, and you wanted one, so why wouldn't you buy one to decorate with your boyfriend?

Riddle couldn't say he was surprised when you showed up in his room with a box of frosting sleeves and gingerbread walls. A few Heartslabyul students who stayed too bought some sets and decorated them in the common areas (and that got them collared, which made them have to go to their own rooms or the cafeteria tables). He thought about it and decided to give it a try, since he wanted to spend time with you and he already finished his book of crosswords.

His side of the gingerbread house looks neat, exactly like a model a company would use in an advertisement, following the instructions carefully paid off. Your side looks slightly messy, with the frosting dripping on the sides and some of the candy falling off. The best way to describe it would be like an earthquake happened, and it only affected half the house. But Riddle still liked it; he could see the effort you put into it; you could even say he felt fond of it.

Riddle had a lot of fun decorating and spending time with you. You handed him the colorful chocolate candy package as he gave the final touches on the ceiling.

It wasn't the perfect house, but it was one made by the both of you.

“It isn’t tidy or neat, yet it has a certain charm to it... Don't put frosting on my face!”

★﹕KALIM AL-ASIM — singing christmas carols

He really likes spoiling you, and you could tell that he was planning something big due to how big his grin had been since December started.

Kalim promised to walk you to Ramshackle after the end of your classes, promising to spend the rest of the day with you. He even finished his homework for the end of the break early so Jamil couldn't object!

The second the bell that indicated the start of winter break rings, Kalim rushes out of the classroom, going straight to the stairs so he could go meet you on another floor. Jamil had to yell at him from a distance to not walk too quickly or he would slip and fall off the stairs. Kalim looks like an excited puppy waiting for you in the hallway, wanting to receive that kiss you always give him as s greeting, it's the best part of his day.

He grabs your hand and starts walking to Ramshackle, excitedly telling you about his plans for the both of you for the winter break, talking about the gifts he will send to his siblings, and about the meal you can both have on the 25th. When the both of you run out of conversation topics, Kalim just hums the melody of a carol, swinging the arm, holding your hand back and forth, and walking as quick as he could.

Kalim looks back at you, giving you the brightest smile he can physically make, and asks you to sing along with him. He'll teach you the lyrics. Or maybe, if you want to, you can both sing carols from your world.

He's just a big fan of carols; he even tells you about how Jamil and he sang them together every Christmas when they were kids. He would love the idea of being able to sing with you together; he wants to know more about you and the traditions in your world.

“Come on, let’s sing together! We can be like a duo; it’ll be so much fun!”

★﹕VIL SCHOENHEIT — watching christmas movies

As soon as he found out you were staying at the school grounds during the holidays, he invited you to stay in Pomefiore. Vil can't have you getting sick or getting your skin dry; the coldness of the environment wasn't good for anyone's skin.

Vil arranged a room for you with all the necessary things you could need, even preparing a set of expensive pajamas he bought for you as an early gift, yet you still sneaked at night to sleep in his bed. It's not like he was complaining; it helped him sleep better at night. You are made to go to sleep early anyway, sleeping is important to maintain your natural beauty.

The second day you opened in your laptop the huge catalog of the (expensive) streaming service you bought especially for the holidays. You asked Vil to watch some Christmas movies with you and he agreed. He knew you weren't familiar with this world's iconic movies, so he would act as your guide.

The both of you made it a habit to sit in his bed a few hours before bedtime and watch some Christmas movies. You played a movie he recommended or that caught your eye, got comfortable, laid your head on his shoulder, and he got to speak about his thoughts on the actor's performance. This was the routine you both followed every day. But one particular movie caught your eye—one he starred in months before entering NRC.

It was good; it was a rom-com where he starred as a side character. You found yourself watching it multiple times, even in his absence. It was a movie with a good plot, your boyfriend starred in it, and he got to talk about the behind the scenes. It was a win-win.

“Did you enjoy my performance, hm? My acting is always on point; expect nothing but the best from me.”

★﹕MALLEUS DRACONIA — sharing hot chocolate

Since Malleus stayed behind because he wanted to spend the holidays with you, that meant the rest of the Diasomnia family did too, so they were all invited to a Christmas sleepover at Ramshackle. And he could never decline an invitation, especially from you.

Sebek was delighted to drink something sweet, just like Grim, who was happy to be able to eat whatever he wanted. Lilia was reminiscing over old memories of when they were younger, like a proud father would, and Silver was listening and adding more to what Lilia was saying.

There was something comforting about the heat coming from the mug he was holding and the sweater you bought specially for him. Malleus has never been sensitive to the cold weather, but the warmth he felt in his heart seeing how well you got along with important people in his life was more than welcomed. It was simple—nothing like the fancy celebrations at his castle back home—just the six of you spending time together while chatting about anything.

It wasn't a foreign feeling; he often felt this way around you, but he could never get enough of it. He smiled at you as you refilled Sebek's mug, who was discussing with Silver about their childhood memories, while you listened intently, clearly interested. Lilia noticed Malleus staring at you and teased him about it, but Malleus only smiled proudly at him and kept drinking from his mug; some of the marshmallows you added to his cup sinking to the bottom.

If any other student witnessed it, they would be speechless over how Malleus Draconia, the scary prince nobody wants to anger, was so content drinking hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows in a snowman mug. But they would be even more speechless if they saw the tender way he looked at you.

“This night has been nothing but delightful; you surprise me more and more every day. I want nothing more than to make more memories like this with you.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #ace trappola x reader #ace x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle x reader #kalim al asim x reader #kalim x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #vil x reader #malleus draconia x reader #malleus x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader

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simp4konig · 7 months

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Halloweens with König headcannons 🎃🍂

Gender-neutral Reader

*Slow burn

Word Count: ~3246

*FLUFFFFFFF😿😿💖✨🩷🩷💘

*Soft König☺️ (but also König is a smug bastard + asshole 🙄), Established relationship, Single mention of (ambiguous) age gap 😮‍💨

🧡Happy Halloween guys!!🧡 I don't celebrate Halloween myself , but im feeling 😈in the mood😈 so i hopw this can suffice for this ooky kooky spooky season 😰😰

Gos i wanna kms ive veen so uninspirws AAAHAHAHAHDHDHDDH this is literslly. Me rn--->💥💥💥💥💥🙂🔫 fuckijg FINALLT GOT sometjing OUT 🥳🥳 rest asusred iwont kms i need to finish my rqs first ☺️💖💖✨ i will feel SO euphoric when all the WIPS will become Completed Works !! 😍😍Im just gonna not post until i gdt smth donw bci hate giving false promises its the same as lyijg,🗿🗿

Tag List ♡ @simpforkonig ♡ @abysslovesyou ♡ @puff0o0 ☆ @rustic-guitar-notes ☆ @happy-mushrooms ♡ @reyner-lee ☆ @lotionlamp ♡ @trepaika ☆ @luci4theminorannoyance

...

König wasn't really one for Halloween.

Hadn't ever been, really, as he hadn't been raised to celebrate it.

In his household, he hadn't had much exposure to the Western "Hallow's Eve".

Besides, even if he was familiar with the tradition, his parents didn't bother celebrating those kinds of trivialities; after all, they certainly weren't going to bother wasting hard-earned money on trifles like pumpkins, just so they'd rot on the front porch, or candy that would rot your teeth, or on vulgar masks that depicted serial killers and monsters, too blasphemous to bear.

Plus, his neighbourhood didn't partake in "Trick-or-treat'ing" at all, and wouldn't leave any candy for any children — wouldn't do anything, really.

Nobody decorated their house with ghouls and ghosts, nobody dressed up as vampires or murderers, nobody jumped from behind corners to shout "Boo!".

None of that, as these ideas were childish. Infantile. Juvenile, even.

Thus, October 31st, König's Austrian villiage was quiet. So eerily quiet you'd had thought it was a ghost town had it not been for hundreds of cloaked figures in the cemetary — as, for König, "Halloween" tended to be a more sombre occasion in comparison to the American/English versions.

Instead of running around and knocking on people's doors with a broad, lopsided smile like other children ought, he was brought along to visit the graves of his family members: graves of his ancestors, which he'd be told about in detail, details of the person buried six feet under the stone slab; information and stories passed down from generations.

He would be taught to honour those deceased in his family and respect their memory, to remember those in the afterlife and what they sacrificed to get there.

Carrying a lamp, he'd light candles on those decrepit gravestones, text faded and illegible, while his parents left boquets of flowers, and pulled up their long black cloaks. Silently paying their respects.

While it wasn't necessarily a day of mourning — König never needed tissues to wipe any tears or blow his nose, and neither did anyone else in the family — it was far graver when compared to the Halloween holidays elsewhere.

However, König's memories of Halloween were few, far, and in-between.

Whenever he'd hear of other people's experiences, he was never nostalgic, as, the times that he did attend those familial ceremonies he was either too young to understand what was happening, or knew too little of the deceased[s] in question to be moved by the heavy atmosphere.

Not only that, but the time period was overwhelmingly solemn, with people flooding the burial grounds, some murmuring prayers, others with tears in their eyes.

There was no laughter, no treats, no fun costumes. Not even tricks. Just suffocating depression all around.

So, he didn't really associate the celebration with something to celebrate: what, celebrating the deaths of your family? That was quite morbid, when he thought about it, and he wasn't going to dedicate an entire month every year to remind himself of death with so many other operators around him falling on the battlefield, and having had faced the grim reaper himself several times already.

Hence, every 31st of October, he did nothing. Didn't acknowledge it at all.

But all that changed one fateful day in September. When he finally acknowledged it, all right (with a little of your help of course)!

You had asked König in passing if he had considered dressing up as something for Halloween. Maybe what he had considered doing on the evening. Or if he had plans to attend the autumn fair sometime soon.

His response? A blank look. Distant recognition.

For a quiet moment, you thought he was scowling at you, silently ridiculing your childish suggestion.

Then: "Halloween? Ah!" An amused chuckle, endeared by the child-like curiosity in your eyes, and a silent sigh of relief from you.

"I don't celebrate it, myself, meine liebe. But you're welcome to tell me what your costume is. I'd love to hear all about it, maus."

Mortified by this revelation, you couldn't let this go.

"What do you mean you "don't celebrate it"? You have got to be joking!"

Wide eyes, and jaw agape, you were in disbelief.

He simply shook his head with a strained smile. "I've just never seen it as something to celebrate, you know? No reason to."

Taking it upon yourself to prove him wrong, you wasted no time converting this skeptic into a believer. "Oh no, there is. I mean, it's Halloween! Everyone is crazy for it!"

Suddenly, your eyes lit up. A wave of adrenaline crashing into you, you tugged König's arm in direction of the couch.

"That's where we'll start! We're gonna watch Halloween! That'll surely get you in the spirit."

You winked at him, satisfied. Then, a sudden snort and a suppressed chortle, hand cupped over your mouth as you laughed at your pathetic attempt at a joke.

König cocked his head to the side in confusion, but let you hastily scramble for blankets, pillows, and to microwave bowls of popcorn, as he made himself comfortable on the couch cushions that sank in protest under his weight.

Initially, he was reluctant. Not necessarily looking forward to being forced to watch movies from the 80s–00s, over-the-top movies with subpar acting, to say that he was looking forward to it would have been a stretch.

However, seeing how passionate you were about the holiday, your interests, König didn't want your sweetness sour.

Yes, he was a little older than you, and perhaps didn't grasp what there was to fuss over, but he wasn't about to spoil your good mood, or dampen that excitement just because he didn't personally understand or was interested personally. He wanted to make an effort, for you.

Vowing to take part in your silly shenanigans, he swore to become involved in the festivities in order to see you smile. To keep seeing you smiling.

After that, every October evening you'd watch a movie — a (usually) corny horror classic, though spending most nights binging all the Screams, Halloweens, Chuckys, The Shinings, Saws, and Evil Deads, — huddled under moutains of blankets and stuffing your faces with toffee-flavoured popcorn.

Watching horror films with him was like being lectured on common-sense and taught self-defence lessons in real time, though. Not like you minded, but it really got rid of the edge and the tension in its entirety.

Instead of paying attention to the storyline, it's more likely König would catch on to the stupid decisions the characters and the shitty attempts to fight back, and he wouldn't be able to help commenting:

"Why did she leave the knife in him? In his abdomen, of all places? Now the murderer has a weapon! Should have taken it out and left him to bleed out. But noooo, nein, leave the knife there."

"Going into the forest on his own? In the night? With a killer on the loose? Mein Gott, he is such a dummkopf! Bring a friend, why don't you?"

"Liebling, why is there so much gore? Isn't this rated "15"? Wait, and why is there a lady with no shirt? This is supposed to be scary, ja? I'm very scared. Scared you'll slap me, actually, if I don't keep looking at my lap."

Angrily ranting at the television, you'd gently reassure him, that, "Sweetie, this is fiction. Sometimes, the scenes are unrealistic." "But it said "based on real events"! I swear, liebling, if I watch another ten minutes of this I'll have a headache. I can't comprehend the stupidness."

Tough crowd, that couldn't really immerse himself in the plot, but you took a note or two for the sorts of horror movies König wouldn't dislike.

Although he insulted all the characters for being stupid and ridiculed all the characters for being so brainless, he would begrudgingly admit that he enjoyed the movie, pointing out some of his favourite scenes.

Self-aware comedic slashers meant he could suspend disbelief and laugh out loud a little, while, movies with an omnipotent monster meant he couldn't criticise any inaccuracies. He didn't winge at those as much in comparison to major blockbuster films. In fact, he even preferred low budget movies, ones that were pure comedic relief and so self-aware that he wouldn't be able to help but laugh along, unable to hide his amusement.

Afterwards, at exactly midnight, you'd be huddled together in the dark under a thick blanket, gorging your mouth with sugary sweets and bite-size chocolates (also indulging in chocolates that were far from bite-size), giggling like lunatics (well, that was mostly you, but König joined in to keep you company).

Later, face serious, with a torch under your chin, you'd be whispering hushedly with a tone of foreboding, voice low, and words ominous:

"Drip. Drip. Dripping water. She had checked the bathroom taps, the kitchen taps, and they were twisted tightly closed. A leakage, perhaps? Or, perhaps, something else. As she roamed the corridor, the drip-drip-drip of liquid grew louder. And louder—"

"Ah, she should call her plumber, then, shouldn't she?" A sure shit-eating smirk that was obscured by his mask, but the way his eyes were squinting you knew he was taking the piss.

Of course, storytelling was not as haunting as you would have had liked it to be: König would interject, interrupting the aura of mystery and the medatitive atmosphere, with sarcastic remarks. It made the narrations really melodramatic in the end, and frustrated you to no end.

Still, you would groan, and, undaunted by his immature antics — as, mind you, this was a grown-ass man, a 6'10 wall of muscle messing around like this, teasing you not like the cocky Colonel he was but a snarky teenage boy — continue:

"—she walked on — despite having been rudely interrupted moments prior — and her heart sank. Blood. A puddle of it, on the floor, looking like gallons upon gallons of it had—"

"Maybe she was — ah, what's the word?" A thoughtful pause, hand where his chin was under the fabric "— menustrating? Was she wearing white pants, maybe?"

"—Menstruating, König — and stop ruining my horror narration! Now I've lost the plot! Okay — against her will, her eyes moved up the wall, following the dripping blood. To her horror, it was coming from the attic. Swallowing the heavy lump in her throat, she pulled open the hatch with jittering fingers, grip slackened by the warm sweat on her palms, knees threatening to buckle. And, when the trap door released, she gasped. Blood draining her face, she saw—"

An exaggerated gasp from König, as he clasped his hands over his mouth in mock shock. "She— she saw— your mother! Mein Gott, the horror!"

"Shut up, König!" An annoyed huff, and shuffling away. "Honestly, you're such a killjoy..."

König, scooping you into his arms when you turned around with crossed arms, pouting lips, and furrowed brows, nuzzed his masked face into your neck, chuckling heartily. You squirmed under his hold, fabric tickling your sensitive neck, and you'd desperately hold back your giggles, trying hard to keep a straight face.

"Ja, ja, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Es tut mir leid, meine Liebe. Please keep going. What did she find in the attic?"

"No! You made me forget the grand reveal, now! I forgot what was up there, anyways..."

Walking around the house, you'd have the fright of your life when a huge shadow would jump in front of you at odd hours of the day.

"Boo!" König's voice resounded, loud and reverberating.

And you screamed, damn near verging on a heart attack.

"Shoving" him in frustration — you became actually even more frustrated when the man was like a solid wall and did not even budge a millimetre — König was quick to console you.

Doting over you, a wide smile on his face that the mask couldn't hide, he would be so overly lovey-dovey with you in an attempt to win back your affection that you'd roll yours eyes so far they'd end up in the back of your head.

"Meine liebe, I'm sorry for scaring you. I couldn't resist. You'll forgive me, won't you? You will, right? Please say yes."

You insisted you would, seemingly unassuming, then schemed to startle him at odd hours of the night as payback for losing your dignity in that moment.

At one point, you had even waited half an hour in the wardrobe while he was showering, only to jump out and see König in only a towel.

Yeah, you were the one that got jumpscared instead, face erupting in red despite you two being together for months at that point. You gave up trying to spook him then, bitterly accepting defeat.

Though, going along with your silly little activities, like going shopping for Halloween decorations, made König's heart swell seeing you bounce around excitedly and point out all the ornaments.

He didn't quite consent to you buying a life-size skeleton to call him Greg and place him in your shared bedroom. That was one step too far.

Still, seeing the wonder on your face, in awe of all the masks, costumes, decorations, and animated mannequins that'd cackle after triggering their mechanisms made his steel-blue eyes soften, melting into pure love and devotion for you.

So, to humour you one day, and to lift your mood after scaring you that one morning, König made two eye-holes in a white blanket, running after you around the house, almost tripping over it in his haste.

"Ooooo-ooo!" he moaned in over-dramatised agony, voice low yet playful. "This is not König, but his ghooost! Run, liebling, or you'll be neeext!"

Hearing him say that in his Austrian accent was so hilarious that were tears running down your cheeks from how hard you'd be laughing, and your sides splitting with the laughter, struggling scramble away, giggling.

Those moans of agony would become genuine cries in pain when he'd accidently hit his head on the doorframe when he forgot to duck in his excitement. The one time that bulky helmet of his could have come to use.

Despite all that, you'd be cornered against the wall, with nowhere to run, and König would pounce, tickling your sides viciously.

That broad smile on your face and the expression was worth fooling around and making a fool of himself.

He even didn't mind having you coo over his "injury" just like how he had when he was doting over you, because he loved you so much.

And, he loved you so much, that he even allowed you to "decorate" his gear. "To make it appropriate for the spooky season!" you had insisted, and he'd comply, not wanting to dull that sparkle in your eyes.

So contented with painting an intricate monster on his mask with fluorescent orange paint, you didn't notice König watching you hunched over the desk from behind, leaning against the doorframe with a loving smile on his face.

You hadn't expected that he'd wear that gear on base — veil, knee pads, helmet, and all — strutting his stuff. Just to remind everyone that their Colonel had a lovely spouse back home.

What you hadn't anticipated was how quickly König would start enjoying the season. Unexpectedly, he became obsessed with Halloween — his favourite tradition, second only to Christmas.

Carveling hollowed-out pumpkins of all shapes and sizes was one of his favourite past-times.

You'd think that with his size he'd struggle to cut through the orange crust without crushing it into pumpkin-coloured mush in his fists, but you'd be forgetting that he was skilled with a knife.

That said, König wasn't artistic. At all. The best he could produce would be a lopsided smiling caricature of... something. A nondescript creature, which you had complimented him on being so cute, only for him to angrily insist that it was an evil monster, and not cute at all.

Still, you would snap a picture before he could object, and give this pumpkin the spotlight on your front porch, soon many more following suit. Jack'o'lanterns illuminating your front step, glowing gold.

The sweet scent of cinnamon, ginger, and vanilla extract filled your house, new freshly-baked treats from the oven laid out on the kitchen island daily.

Delicious aroma of sugary pastry, homemade banana bread with small hints of vanilla and sprinkled with icing sugar, candied oranges and sour, sherbet lemon cakes, crunchy cinnamon sugar pumpkin seeds ("Made from the pumpkin guts!" you exclaimed with a smile of pride, König's eyes smiling in delight of your enthusiasm).

Crumbly shortbread in the shape skulls and bats, round cookies with orange and black icing resembling pumpkins, sponge cakes that oozed thick raspberry and strawberry jam when you bit into them ("Because they were bleeding blood," you proclaimed, a devilish smirk on your face — or, something like it, as to König you were the cutest angel he'd had ever been blessed to be around), and so, so, so much more.

So much that your weekly trips to the supermarket became biweekly, until you two found yourselves stocking up on sugar, flour, eggs, and butter far too often to keep track of.

The house was so inviting, especially to little ones from the neighbourd, that their mouths were agape and their eyes sparkled as they passed your "haunted house", holding the hands of their parent(s).

Mentioned in an earlier post that König has a soft spot for children, he'd stock up on Halloween candy and treats, and lug bucketfuls of sweets on the doorstep for any little ones that'd knock on your door to cheerfully cry out in unison, full of glee: "Trick or treat!"

He'd welcome them with open arms, but, with most of them being so little, they'd point with bulging eyes the giant on the doorstep, to be harshly reprimanded by their mothers and fathers for their ignorance and rudeness.

Few would say much after seeing König the giant, and after daring to scoop a handful of confectionary, bowing their heads and avoiding his eyes would mumble a shaky "...Th-thank you, s-sir—!"

One of them, however — a little girl with rosy cheeks donning white stockings and a gold tinsel halo — beamed brightly, albeit shyly, at König, thanking him for the treat and his generosity. An innocent, toothy smile that made her squint from how high it reached her eyes, her front baby teeth missing.

When she had her back turned to you two, she ran as fast as her chubby little legs could take her, and exclaimed, "Mommy! Mommy! That giant is a big and friendly one! A big, friendly giant. Can we go again, please? Please?"

It was only when you nudged König with your elbow, grinning, when she had skipped happily away, that he had realised he had tears in his eyes.

Moreover, maybe the memories König had of Halloween weren't so cheerful, or ones even worth remembering in the first place; after all, his childhood wasn't so cheerful. Joyless, and with little life.

But, with the way that Halloween was shaping up to be, he was already looking forward to the special celebration.

So full of life the you two were, you would laugh at the irony — animated and living the dream, while celebrating the day of the day. It brought you two to more laughter.

And, with you, König could make new ones, ones that you'd look back on fondly years from now, and those grueling months on deployment.

...

Note: Went off experience here for the beginning, guys🫡🫡 for the mowt part i have never celebrated Halloween😰 only a couple times in Poland, and once in England when i drank tomato juice and prwtended it was blood and i was a vampire🤪,

, but I Googled "Halloween in Austria" /Germany" to clarify whether I wasn't just speaking outta my ass and König here would have celebrated it differently to how I had in Poland 💀cuz, yknow, im not egocentric ajd the world doesnt celebrate things the same way Poles do 😘...

...And, no, I wasn't !☺️✨✨(... sort of😅... As far as I know, Germany has adopted the West's Halloween, ans theres pumpkin carving competitiomsn stuff, while Austria does indeed celebrate it slightly differently) .

Because I have no fuckijg idea of König's nationaloty anymore as it KEEOS CHANGING, I got the vest of both worlds 🥲🥲

Also been really busy guys😰😰😰by busy i mean stressing out ovee not writing then proceeding to NOT write bc im stressed❤️❤️🥰 you know jow it is!! 🤗(🔫) its ok tjo❤️(no it isnt) ill work tjis oit somejow🥹(no i wont im gonna kms) 🥰🥰

Have a very spooky halloween guys<3Feel bad foe those that are buying candy bc not onky is it smallwe than last uear but its more expensive 💔😟

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gretavanlace · 5 months

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Sugar II (part 7)

Jake Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, language, angst, cheating, choking (barely, and only if you squint) fingering, etc

Hello lovelies! I hope everyone has had a wonderful holiday season and a very merry Christmas (if you celebrate). So sorry for the wait, but I trust you’ll understand…things get so crazy this time of year! Please excuse any mistakes you find, I did some under the weather editing. Xoxo love you all ❤️

True to his word, he was knocking at your metaphorical door the second their brief intermission allowed, and now you find yourself trudging along beside him through a nearly deserted parking lot outside the town cinema that is conveniently attached to the mall.

The mall sees little action these days as it is - throw in the fact that it’s early afternoon smack dab in the middle of the week and you’ve got yourself a recipe for isolation.

Which was exactly the plan all along. It’s a small town, and questions are the last thing you need.

When he’d pulled up in his rental, some luxury sedan with sleek black paint and deeply tinted windows, you couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled out of you. How out of place he looked…he would’ve seemed more at home on a tricycle.

Now, after a hug that felt too intimate in the unforgiving glare of the sun, he holds the door open for you, ushering you inside, ever the gentleman, when his phone begins to hum in his pocket.

“Here,” a credit card, black and heavier than standard plastic, slips into your palm as he nods towards the popcorn and candy, “Go wear it out.”

“Trying to get rid of me, Kiszka?” You tease, leaning in conspiratorially, “Am I your dirty little secret?”

With a roll of his eyes, he shuts you down. “Dirty? Yes. Secret? Not so much.”

He tilts his phone to display Josh’s name trilling across the screen. “You’re welcome to say hello, if you’d like. But I honestly detest the thought of sharing you right now. Sounds torturous.”

Your eyes travel over him like he’s a fucking meal. Linen pants cuffed lazily at the ankles to display scuffed and worn boots. Light blue button up, barely buttoned and hardly hiding the softness of his stomach, which you long to gnash your teeth into. Coins and medallions clink about against his chest, locks curling like ribbons along the shoulders of his midnight onyx blazer…no, on this you two can agree, you’d rather not share him either.

“Don’t let him talk so long that I have to miss you.” You smile with a wink that sizzles the blood in his veins as he watches you make your way over to the concession stand.

In keeping with yet another promise, he stands beside you before the popcorn has even been buttered, ready to follow you into whichever darkened room you’ll be inhabiting together for the next couple of hours.

When you fold into your seats, you find yourselves utterly alone.

A half an hour in, and you’re deeply regretting your choice. Something more PG would have been a lifesaver. You should have opted for something animated, for christ’s sake.

Watching them twist through the sheets, his hands dipped into her waist as she rocks above him in the gorgeous, cinematic lighting would normally have no more than a minute effect on you…especially given how little you’ve paid attention to the actual plot.

But he’s so near. You can feel the warmth of his body heat. You can smell that woodsy hint that lilts through his aura, paired with the ghostly remnants of a cigarette he’d swear he never smoked. If you leaned in just a fraction of an inch, your lips could play against the corner of his jaw. And again, you’re alone, so alone, in the cool darkness of this deserted theater.

Watching them this way with him so close has your heart banging about in the cage of your chest like a bird, stunned and frightened. Intense. Inescapable.

It’s the middle of the afternoon. The sun is beating down upon smoldering asphalt just outside these walls, bathing this town, in which you’ve built a life, in blinding light. Outside, it’s just another Wednesday…but here, with him next to you, quiet and concentrating on the two strangers making love on screen, you could be a thousand miles away. An alternate reality where in which only you walk the earth - Jake’s hand in yours as he strolls along beside you.

“Care to share what you’re thinking so hard about?” His question hushes out, though there is no one else around to hear it, but his eyes remain fixed ahead.

“I’m not thinking about anything.” You bristle gently…he knows you far too well for it to ever feel fair.

“I am.” His head tilts towards yours, but still he watches on. “Would you like it if I shared, instead?”

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you that it’s rude to talk at the movies?” You tease, simply to avoid whatever you know to be coming, “You really are spending too much time with Josh.”

A thought seems to suddenly occur to him, flickering a nearly visible lightbulb above his head. “Do you ever miss the way it used to be? With Josh? Before I came along and fucked everything up?”

His hand, which has been linked loosely with yours since the lights went down, offers a tiny squeeze. A reassurance that whatever the truth is, it will be alright to say it.

“Never.” And that really is the honesty of it all. “I miss the way things were when it was the three of us sometimes…but I think that’s really only because I miss you. I miss him too. But so differently. And I miss Sam and Danny. I miss…” you fall silent, searching for words that won’t come, and finally settle upon, “everything.”

“You don’t have to.” He is still refusing to look at you, though your eyes are heating his cheek with the intensity of your gaze in the dark. “You don’t have to miss anything, anymore. You can come home, baby. You should come home. I want you to come home. I need you to—” his throat catches, and you watch his lips fold in against the vulnerability.

“I am home.” You argue, wishing you could take it back the second you’ve whispered it into existence.

“Why?” Finally, finally, he turns to catch your eye. “Because of him? I’m so sick of hearing about him it isn’t even funny. And not just because I’m jealous - which I most certainly fucking am - but because it’s such bullshit.”

Trying your hardest, you muster a bit of astonished annoyance, though you feel none of it “My life is bullshit?”

His response is matter of fact as he turns his attention back to the couple still feigning ecstasy before you “Yes, it is.”

“That’s real nice, Jake.” Now your irritation feels a bit more concrete. How dare he so nonchalantly sit here in the dark and try to poke holes in what you’ve cultivated in his absence? “What isn’t bullshit, then? Our pretend life that you choose to live inside? Or the one from years ago that you can’t let go of?”

Another squeeze of your hand comes tender and comforting, “I’ll let that slide because I know you don’t mean to be hurtful…and because I know you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared,” you pull away and begin to miss his touch instantly. “I just…I have a fucking life, Jacob. And you seem hell bent on ruining it.”

“Okay,” he nods, turning in to nudge your nose with his own. “Take me home then, Sugar. Parade me through your life. Introduce me to Mr. Wonderful. Show me where you sleep. Where you watch TV with him at night. Where you take your baths, floating in the bubbles until you’re pruny and half-drunk on wine. Show me your backyard. Show me the walls he fucks you up against while you don’t think of me. Show me where you hide away from him at night to whisper sweet things to me…and not so sweet things. Let me meet your cat.”

His mouth is so close to yours you can faintly taste his minty toothpaste, “I don’t have a cat.”

“Alright,” he grins, sly as a snake, cheeks sweeping against yours as they perk with his smile, warm and soft “then just take me home and show me your pussy.”

It’s crass and ridiculous, and you know he’s said it simply to make you laugh…it works.

“So this is it, huh?” He leans forward, peering at your house through the windshield as you coast into the driveway. “No porch. No garden. But I’m going to wager there’s a welcome mat.”

His eyes cut over to you, a wickedly adorable gleam dancing about in them, “There is, isn’t there? How fucking quaint.”

How does he remember that you hate welcome mats? That you find them to be untruthful somehow, because certainly not everyone is welcome…some who find themselves at your doorstep should just go away. And how has he guessed that you do, in fact, have one? That he brought one home not long after you moved in and you hadn’t had the heart to tell him to throw it out?

Once more, you’re reminded of Jake’s uncanny ability to peer inside your head, but you refuse to stoke the fires of his ego. “You promised to behave, Jacob.”

He pops his door open and climbs out with a lazy stretch, “Oh, c’mon pretty girl, don’t tell me you believed that.”

Hand slipping from the steering wheel, you steel yourself with a steadying breath. This was a bad idea. A horrible choice. A disaster gearing up to wreak havoc…but here you are, leading the way with Jake strolling along behind you, taking in the suburban elements of your neighborhood with his hands buried casually in his pockets.

He always looks as though he has nowhere to be and all day to get there. It’s calming. Soothing. Like the invisible hand of a beloved caretaker reminding you that there is time enough to breathe. No reason to rush, it says…that gentle air about him. I don’t mind waiting. Take your time.

As you fit your key into the deadbolt, he resumes his antics, “When will Mr. Wonderful return from sea? Is there a widow’s walk where we might watch for him together on this dreadful day of pining?”

Voice warbling and pitched low, he reaches up and tugs a lock of your hair, goading you like a drunken, English pirate.

“Shut up, Oliver, or I’ll go inside and lock the door behind me.” The hinges squeak open…no turning back now.

“No, you won’t.” He scoffs, laughing lightly at his own nonsense. “Seriously, do I get to size up the competition today?”

You welcome him in, slightly dizzy at the sight of him sauntering inside…you’ve imagined him here so many times. Longed for his penchant for filling up space, fat and full, with his greater than life presence.

He makes you feel small in the most wonderful way; you are bird cupped safe and sound in his palms as he holds you close to his chest, protecting you from the world.

And maybe you should tell him these things…the way he makes you feel. His eyes would turn soft, he might touch your face with his tender fingertips and sigh your name into the room like a wisp of a breeze.

But a glance at the mantel, and the framed picture perched there, sends a tiny rush of guilt surging through your veins and you shake the moment off and instead opt for a stern…

“No, you won’t be sizing anything up today, Jake,” you move about the room to keep his eyes on you rather than in the direction of the mantel. “I’m not sadistic enough to subject him to your gleeful nastiness.”

He laughs like he’s never loved anything more, tipping his head back to expose his gorgeous throat…you yearn to bite it. “Gleeful nastiness? Sugar, you wound me.”

Rather than stride across the room to sink your teeth into him, you cross your arms, disgruntled and annoyed. “You’d have way too much fun being an asshole, and he’d be far too nice to put you in your place.”

That darkens his eyes, and you almost regret it. Almost. “Put me in my place? Are you choosing sides, sweetheart? Because it sounds an awful lot like you are.”

“Maybe I am.”

He’s moving toward you now, and you should back away, you know you should. Instead, your feet shuffle forward.

“Pretend your heart lies with him all you want,” he sweeps his lips over the apple of your cheek, “but I know better, and so do you.”

“Kiss me.” You bite your lip against the plea a second too late.

Those warm eyes of his, like coffee stirred with a splash of cream, flick down at your mouth and back to meet your gaze, and then his answer comes simply and with finality, “No.”

“No?” You’re incredulous, and admittedly stung by his rejection.

“No.” He reiterates, stepping away from you as your hands drop uselessly from his shoulders to your sides. “Take me on the tour, pretty girl. Show me this wonderful life of yours. I simply cannot wait.”

The “tour” he was so eager for is winding down as you steer him down the hall hurriedly, hoping he’ll ignore the door that is cracked and streaming light into the hallway.

Of course, he doesn’t. “What’s the rush, baby?” He smiles, feigning confusion, “What prize hides behind this one? Is this your bedroom?”

Suddenly, there is no space left between your bodies, and his is radiating a possessive heat as he backs you up into the room, guiding you along with a sure and steady arm wrapped around your waist.

“Is this where Mr. Wonderful fucks my girl?”

“Jake,” you’re protesting, but your fingers have curled into his shirt, thumb toying with one of the buttons that has likely never known what it’s like to be fastened. “Stop talking about it.”

He tilts his head in mock confusion, “Why? You like sex, I like sex, let’s talk about it, yeah? Oh, this is it right here, isn’t it? Look at this great big beautiful bed. Did you make it yourself this morning? Are the sheets clean?”

His mouth is at your throat now, licking and sucking between his terrible taunting questions. “If I laid you down right now, would I smell you on them? Would I smell him?”

“Jake, shut up,” you snap, but you’re pulling his lips in closer, hands fisting loosely in his hair.

You expect him to toss you down on the bed. To crawl on top of you. To grab you. To fuck you. To own you on the bed in some misguided show of territorial dominance.

And you expect to let him.

You expect to fight to be on top so that his hair will rest upon your pillow…so tonight you might drift away into a peaceful slumber gifted by the scent of him blurring your senses.

Instead, you find yourself pressed up against the wall, “I won’t have you in that fucking bed, even though I could, if I felt so inclined. I can tell you want it.” He sizes you up while grinding his cock into you with a delicious rhythm that’s got your breath panting out in tiny puffs already. “You do, don’t you, baby? You want me to fuck you in that bed. You want me all over the sheets he sleeps in.”

You’re ashamed, so fucking ashamed…but it’s true.

He’ll go, and you’ll miss him so terribly, and in some sick and horrifically twisted way you want him to spill on to the sheets, to leave his fingerprints on every surface. To lick across the bathroom mirror. To use your hairbrush so that there might be a strand or two of his silken waves left behind. You want him to drink from the milk carton and lounge about on the furniture. To lose the remote between the couch cushions. To tilt all the pictures uneven with his careless touch. You want him everywhere…to leave behind tiny remnants of himself once he’s gone, little pieces to ease your aching heart.

“Tell me, sugar.” He fucks himself against you with quick rolls of his hips until you’re praying his name. “Tell me the truth, baby. Tell me where you want me to give you my cock. I’m so hard for you, sweetheart.”

“In our bed,” it’s a rush of desperation as you clutch at him, dragging him closer to you…but it still isn’t enough, you wish you could crawl inside him. “Fuck me in our bed. Make me cum in our bad. Make me say your name in our bed. Please, jakey, please,”

Ignoring your disgraceful display, he continues to rock into you, gasping into the crook of your neck while his breathless moans tickle their way into your ear, “Does he make you cum in that bed? Does he take care of your pretty cunt the way I do? Does he make you shake and beg for terrible things? Hmm? Are you a good girl for him in that bed? Look at it.”

You shake your head back and forth against the wall, thrusting wildly to meet him. He’s right, he’s so fucking hard.

His palm wraps around your throat, squeezing at the sides, directing your line of sight. “I said fucking look at it. I want your eyes on that bed when I make you cum. I’m gonna make it mine without laying a goddamn finger on it. My bed, and my girl with her pretty wet pussy that belongs to me.”

“Inside,” it’s a rasping, shaking plea, and it should embarrass you and cast your eyes downward in shame…but it doesn’t. You’ve always wanted him this badly, and he knows it as inherently as he remembers the walls of his childhood home. “I need you inside, need your cock.”

“That’s it, fuck doll…” there is a filthy smirk evident in his tone, though his face is once again buried against your neck, “Beg for my cock. Tell me how badly you need it. Ask real sweet, sugar…be my very good girl.”

Your bodies writhe together feverishly until you feel like you might catch fire and burn away into ashes that will singe against his tongue like scorching want “Please, Jakey…please. I think about you all the time. I can’t clear my head, it’s always so full of you. Fuck me, fuck me, please please please…”

A painfully ragged groan rumbles out of him as his mouth, eager and starved, sucks against your throat, “Not gonna fuck you here. Not in this room where you let him touch you, not in this house where you let him love you.”

“Outside,” your teeth clench around the word until your jaw is screaming as loudly as the ache between your legs. “Take me out back, fuck me there…”

At last, his face, so beautifully flushed and dew-kissed, emerges from the crook of your neck, “You want me to take you outside and slide you onto my cock all wet and pretty? Want to let your neighbors hear what a whore you are for me? Let them hear how wet I make your gorgeous cunt? Hmm? Let them hear you whine my fucking name?”

“I don’t care what they hear…” you’re nearly mewling with need, clawing at his shoulders, clutching at his shirt, nearing your end, but so desperate to run from it because you want so much more. You don’t want this to be over without him slipped inside you, hard and hot.

“Look at me.” The insistence in his tone leaves no room for argument and your eyes flutter open to lock in on his.

A breathy, “You’re so beautiful,” trips off your tongue - a reflex that couldn’t be helped if you tried. He’s an evil, diabolical doctor banging a tiny hammer just below your knee cap.

A slow, languid blink is the only indication he gives that he’s even heard you. “You know my face, sugar?”

It’s the most absurd question that has ever been asked of you. Of course you know his face. Sometimes, it seems like you know nothing but his face.

Those sleepy eyes, that seem to see more than anyone has ever seen, down the deep and winding halls within you. His plush lips, full and pink, cruelly perfect, with a Cupid’s bow to rival the angel’s even if you stacked them all together. Rounded tip of his nose, different now, but still constantly luring your kiss. His jaw, so strong at times, so soft at others, but always begging for your tongue to trail along its path…his brow, his eyelashes, the way locks of hair display it all like a gilded edged frame adorning a wall in some ancient, European museum.

Yes, you know his face. You will always know his face. He is true north on your compass. He is the only direction in which your heart will ever willingly travel.

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak even as your hips rock against him.

“Good girl,” he presses the softest kiss to your mouth, “I want your eyes on that bed when you cum, but I want my face in your heart, and my name on your pretty pink tongue. We’re gonna fucking erase him, aren’t we?”

Suddenly, you wonder who he means? Does he mean this new rival, who really isn’t his rival at all? Or does he mean Josh, even after all this time? Does he even know which? Do you?

“No, baby…” your voice is but a whimper, and it tugs a growl out of his lungs that makes you weaker still, “I don’t want to cum like this. I need you inside of me. Make me feel good, Jakey…make me whole.”

“Not here,” he shakes his head sternly and you shrink away from his scolding, head resting against the cool wall. “Never here. Not in this house. I hate this fucking house. I want to burn it down and salt the goddamn earth.”

“Give me more,” your fingers are tearing and pulling at him frantically. You need so much from him always, you need his everything.

“I’ll give you more,” his voice sounds feral, grinding and growling like sandpaper…like he is lost and stumbling along far away from himself, as he jerks you away from the wall and slams you up onto your vanity.

Tiny bottles and tubes tumble and spill to the floor, but rather than care, you reach back and blindly sweep the rest away to make room for whatever is about to happen.

“I’ll give you fucking more,” he bites into your throat as though he wants to swallow you down and carry you around inside him. “I’ll give you fucking anything if you’ll just let me. Let me, sugar…fuck, please baby.”

“Just…” you can’t finish your thought…can’t find your mental footing while vibrating with such desperation, so you don’t even try. Instead, you begin fumbling with his belt, but he shoves your hands away.

“I told you,” he grabs hold of your face, a firm yet shaking hand tight around your chin, “Not here. Stop.”

On your fingers march, fighting with leather and metal until his voice, soft and mournful now, guides you out of the haze, “Not here, sugar. Not here.”

Everything slows in a blink, as if fate has adjusted the playback speed, and you find yourself watching with bated, yet quieting breaths as he pops the button on your jeans and lowers the zipper, eyes on your face all the while.

He slips his fingers in slowly, carefully…you are precious and deserving of his care, and he wants you to have it.

“Lean back,” he soothes, the heel of his palm grinding softly against your clit, “Let me take care of my girl.”

You’re prepared to whine and barter, but he shakes his head the moment your lips part.

“Shh, settle down, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” free hand now petting at your face, he offers you the gentlest smile. “You’re so wet, sugar. So warm.”

“Jake,” you’re rocking up to meet him now, slipping into the breathtaking haze of bliss he saves just for you.

“What, pretty girl?” God, the way he’s speaking to you…each word dripping with adoration and awe. Drenched in lust. Positively soaked in love. “Does it feel good?”

“So good,” your eyes are drifting closed now as you wade deeper into the tepid pool of your Jakey. You want to stay forever, to sink into his swirling blue waters until you’re forced to suck him into your lungs and drown.

“Eyes open.” The demand is soft and delicate, like lace drawn across your flushed skin.

You recall his earlier instruction and cast your heated stare at the bed you share with a man you could never exist for the way you live and breathe for Jake, but he shakes his head, “I was wrong…I don’t want that. Look at me, sugar. Right here, look at me.”

How could you ever want to look at anything else? Your gaze locks with his, and in reward, he curls his searching fingers and drags a high pitched moan off the tip of your tongue.

“Good girl, baby…” he nods, dropping his forehead to meet yours “So pretty. Silky little pussy wrapped up snug and tight around me like she never wants me to leave.”

“Don’t,” you’re writhing and grabbing at him now, crawling closer and closer to the edge, “Don’t leave me, Jake.”

His hand trails down from your face to cover your heart, “Is that coming from here, too?”

Watching him like this, your chest feels like it could easily cave in…like it could crumple in on itself - a balled up scrap of cheap aluminum foil crushed inside a fist. He is a sonnet come to life. A haunting song, living and breathing, watching you like you are love incarnate.

Of course it’s coming from your heart. It’s coming from your soul…or perhaps from the soul the two of you sometimes seem to share.

“I don’t know why I keep fighting this,” strangely, tears are burning in your eyes as the white hot band of pleasure stretches tighter still in your belly, “You’re all I want. You’re all I’ve ever fucking wanted,”

Satisfied, the air sighs out of his lungs as his fingers crook just perfectly and unravel you with a jolt. It is such a lazy, undulating ribbon of pleasure, unwinding through your veins like slow heat as you gasp and hush his name.

“Just like that, baby,” he coaxes, sounding far away. “Nice and slow…just like that. Shh, I’m right here. I’ve got you, sugar, I’ve got you.”

Your eyes never stray from his, even when the intensity you find in them threatens to crack your chest wide open, and when you finally come down, that’s how you both stay for so long you can almost believe the rest of the world has fallen away.

When his fingers twitch and you shiver with overstimulation, it breaks the spell and he pulls back… reluctantly sliding slowly from the cashmere grip of your cunt, only to suck those two fingers into his mouth with a muted groan of content.

“Pack a bag, sugar…” his hands cup your cheeks, fingers slick against your face as his nose tips up to meet yours, “Or don’t. We’ll go shopping and I’ll buy you anything and everything you’ve ever needed. Whatever you want, pretty girl…it’s yours.”

“I—“ you can’t seem to think straight.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he’s teasing now, with a barely there smirk taunting his lips, “Let me steal you away and take you home where you belong. I’ll write pretty songs for you, and make love to you every morning until the sun is so envious of us it resents having to rise. Let me build you a house. Let me till a garden for my girl.”

At last, you find your voice, “I have to do this the right way, Jake. His heart deserves care. I don’t want to hurt him any more than I have to. I’m the bad guy, here.”

“No,” that soft, hidden away smile of his clutches at your heart. “I think I’m the bad guy here. I just can’t find a shit to give.”

You’ve righted your disheveled selves and are now attempting to right all the other wrongs, with you stretched out on the rug watching as Jake picks up the tiny bottles and jars that litter the floor, asking after each one…

“Highlighter? What the hell does this do? Are you a book report?” And “How many lip glosses do you even need, sugar? You only have two lips.”

…before carefully placing said product back on the vanity - when, way ahead of schedule, the garage door rumbles to life.

Your heart lurches painfully in your chest, but on his end, Jake’s eyes light up with menacing delight, “Well, what do you know, babe? It seems our dear captain has returned.”

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bisexual-thoughtss · 5 months

Note

I have a Bernard request 👉👈 maybe Bernard, right before the holiday season, works himself so much into a stress-induced anxious lather in front of you that he literally has a small panic attack and struggles to breathe, and you have to de-escalate him w/ kindness (and possibly cuddles)???

I combined this one with 🍀 anon’s ask, I hope you like it!

Bernard x Reader

You stick your head into the stuffing room, excited greetings ringing out when you’re spotted. You look around, spying piles of fluff, half stuffed animals, and hardworking elves.

“Hello, hi. Hey, you!” you greet a few of the elves, “Has anyone seen Bernard?”

“Last I saw he was headed toward the kitchen,” one elf pipes up.

“On a war path, I heard,” another mentions with a raised eyebrow.

“Uh oh,” you wince, “I better go talk him down.”

As you make your way through the hall, you don’t spot Bernard anywhere so you continue your hike toward the kitchens. Finally approaching the candy themed doors, you pull them open and head inside.

“How’s it going, everyone?” You ask cheerily as you pop in. Your smile falters a bit as you see the baking elves and their drained faces as they mumble replies to your question.

“Why the long faces?” You frown, looking around at them for answers. They avoid your gaze, halfheartedly rolling out cookie dough.

“Bernard yelled at us,” one of the elves finally admits and you grimace.

“Oh no, I’m sorry. You all know how he gets this close to Christmas,” you apologize.

“Do you know where he went?” You ask the elf nearest you.

“The toy floor,” she murmurs and your heart breaks at how downtrodden she seems.

“I’m gonna go find him, why don’t you guys take a break, huh? Have some cocoa,” you tell them and their faces light up. You grab a bagged cookie, tucking it in your pocket to use to talk Bernard down when you find him, and laughing as a chorus of ‘thank you!’ follows you out the door as you leave.

When you round the corner to the toy floor you spot Bernard right away. He’s gesturing and pointing while he talks to the painters, and you can see how tense his shoulders are from across the room.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re here,” You hear someone behind you exclaim. You sidle up to Bernard just before it seems like he’s really going to snap.

“Hey, I’ve been looking for you all over,” you smile, rubbing the velvet of his shirt over his bicep. He softens as soon as he hears your voice.

“Hi, sugar,” he smiles dopily for a second before his eyebrows furrow again. He looks like he’s about to turn and start again but you cut in as he opens his mouth.

“I’ve got something for you, c’mon,” you tell him, tugging lightly on his sleeve so he’ll follow you. He frowns, clearly wanting to stay and finish whatever lecture he’d started but he trails after you. When you finally make it off the toy floor he can’t stand it anymore.

“What do you have for me?” He finally asks.

“A break and a cookie,” you tell him as you reach the door to his office.

“I don’t have time for a break!” he insists.

“Yes, you do. You need one, you’re starting to take out your frustrations on the elves,” you argue.

“I can’t take a break, it’s almost Christmas!” His voice cracks.

“Santa has only checked his list once! The painters painted all the dump trucks green, the bakers aren’t meeting their cookie quota! The- the-“ he rants until his breath is coming out in short quick puffs and his hands are shaking.

“Whoa, hey, hey,” you reach out to hold onto his shirt as he sways slightly on his feet. You pull him into his office, and towards the plush couch against the wall. You sit the both of you down, scooting back to give him some space.

“Can you breathe with me?” You ask and he nods with wide eyes, breath rabbit quick.

“In, two, three…” you count a couple of breaths for him to follow, but it doesn’t seem to help calm him as much as you’d like.

“Can I touch you?” You ask and he croaks out a yes. You bring his hand up to press flat against your sternum, breathing deeply and encourage him to match your pace. The steady thudding of your heartbeat helps calm him down as he matches your breaths.

“Feel a little better?” You ask once you feel like his breathing is normal again and his hands have stopped shaking. You get a tiny ‘yeah’ and you can’t help but coo at how pitiful he sounds.

“Oh, honey,” you pull him to you, rubbing his back soothingly.

“C’mon, take some of this stuff off,” you murmur, taking his hat and necklace off, gently dropping them to the floor. He takes his bag off and deposits it in the pile as well.

“Lay down with me,” you suggest and he gives in easily. His head rests on your chest once you get settled, your fingers scratching against the nape of his neck. You hum an apology when he shivers at the touch, moving to pop open the button on the back of his collar to give him more room to breathe. By now you know better than to run your fingers through his hair and risk messing up his curls, so you move down to scratch his back lightly.

“Santa always gets the list done, he knows what he’s doing. The kitchen elves are doing their best. They seem to be on track to make enough, but you can always delegate a few more elves to help in the kitchen if you feel like they need it. And there’s nothing wrong with green dump trucks,” you talk him through his worries.

“I know it’s your job to take care of everything, but you have to take care of yourself too,” you remind him.

“What did I do to deserve you, sugarplum?” he wonders, voice muffled into your sweater.

“You must’ve been on the nice list,” you joke, poking him softly in the side to watch him squirm. You’re sure this must’ve taken a lot out of him, he seems ready to fall asleep any second and you’re more than willing to lay here as long as it takes for him to get a little rest.

“I love you, sugarplum,” he mumbles sleepily, arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

“Love you too,” you press a kiss to his unruly curls as his breathing starts to even out.

“Did you say something about a cookie?” He looks up suddenly and asks, and you can’t help but let out a startled laugh.

#bernard the elf x reader #bernard x reader #bernard the head elf #bernard the santa clause #🍀

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hwasdvlly · 7 months

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Kitty | s.mingi

✮ summary: a vampire and his mortal lover get into the spooky spirit.

✮ pairing: mingi x fem!reader

✮ genres: romance, slice of life, and fluff

✮ word count: 0.8k words

✮ warnings/tags: none. established relationship, vampire!mingi, tsundere bf!mingi, mortal!reader, halloween fun

✮ a/n: mingi has finally joined my library! it took a while but i am happy that i got the time and energy to continue writing. in the making of vampire/tsundere mingi i couldn't contain my squeals

The season of autumn comes in like the warmest hug. Chattering autumn leaves of gold and scarlet, and the soft wind echoes. But most of all, a spooky yet fun holiday is around the corner.

Inside an apartment, a handsome vampire with ash blonde hair, snow-white skin, smokey eyes, and a tall physique dressed in comfy clothes is resting on the couch, scrolling through his phone.

Mingi notices on his social media that people are preparing for Halloween. The vampire honestly doesn’t know if it’s a mockery for mortals to imitate supernatural creatures or something to celebrate fear as an enjoyment. Suddenly, he hears the beautiful voice of his girlfriend, more like ordering him.

“Let’s go, Mingi! I want to see if the store has what I want!” You frowned at your slouching boyfriend.

He sighs and puts his phone on his chest. The vampire raises an eyebrow at your change in appearance. You are in a cozy outfit because it has gotten colder nowadays. Mingi puts his phone in his pocket and stands up from the couch while talking. “I don’t get the whole hype about this holiday. Is it to make fun of the ones in my realm?” After living in the mortal world for quite a long time, Mingi has been learning and adjusting to a new lifestyle. Of course, he did it for you because you are the light of his life.

“No, it’s not that.” You shook your head and watched him go to the door to grab his sneakers off the rack. You walk up to him to put on your boots. Like a gentleman, Mingi holds your hand so you don’t lose balance. “It’s a holiday to get free candy, dress up however you want, and being scary is fun.” You tried to reason and made him understand that it’s not supposed to be an insult. Mingi responds, “Whatever you say.” He sounds so blunt, yet he’ll do it for you.

His seven friends, and you call him a tsundere. Mingi may act and look intimidating, but he goes all softie boy whenever he is around you.

Walking down the streets, hand-in-hand, you are more excited while your boyfriend looks soulless. You turn your head to notice how unenthusiastic he is. “Come on, Mingi! Show some happiness on your face.” You encouraged him because you want to make his days joyful. Indeed, he is proud to be part of your life and is grateful that his kind doesn’t have a feud with humans. You truthfully don’t know how you made his stone, cold heart flutter constantly, but it’s adorable.

Mingi lets out a breath. He shifts his neck to look down at his lover. Your petite self is so cute that he wants to protect you at all costs, which he does. Then a grin etches onto his stunning face. If you weren’t outside, you would’ve fainted on the spot. “T-There you go.” You sheepishly spoke as your face began to crimson.

His grin turns into a charming smirk. He loves seeing you get flustered.

As the lovers arrived at the Halloween store, you immediately dragged your vampire boyfriend into the costume section. “We should get costumes as a couple! Maybe this one.” You found a cute witch costume with a hat, a black corset dress, and striped stockings. Mingi observes it and would be lying if he said it wouldn’t look pretty on you. Anything that his love wears is gorgeous.

“If we do that, then what am I supposed to be?” Mingi asked you. He sees his mortal love skim through the aisle, looking for the right costume.

Shortly, your eyes brighten. “A-ha! Perfect!” You grabbed whatever it was and put it on Mingi. His curious expression quickly becomes discontented. “Are you for real?” He hopes his seven annoying but lovely friends aren’t watching him in the other world. Mingi also hopes the undead aren’t laughing at him.

“I am not going to be your cat, Y/N.” He groans with sparkly cat ears on his ash-blonde head.

You ignored his complaint and hugged him tightly. “Yes! You are!” You opposed Mingi’s disapproval of your idea. You can blatantly admit that he would be the cutest kitty.

“Are we done now?” Mingi questions because you haven’t let go of him. You shook your head while rubbing your face on his broad chest. “Nope. We still need to get decorations, and after that, we need fall snacks.” You informed him.

Mingi allows it because he can’t escape from you.

Once purchasing the items, the vampire has the bags in his hand and the phone in the other. You wrap your arms around his and lay your head on his bicep. Mingi texts his friends in a group chat. He explains to them he will be a cat for Halloween. As expected, they all were shocked and made teasing remarks.

wooyo: kitty mingi! im dead!

sannie: that’s a SIGHT to see

jjong: not for me because it’ll be a nightmare

yuyu: y/n is a genius hehe

hwa: it’s nice that you agreed with her

joongie: tell y/n to send us pics

yeo: have a wonderful halloween mangi!

#ateez #atiny #ateez imagines #ateez fluff #ateez x reader #ateez mingi #mingi ateez #mingi #song mingi #mingi x reader #mingi x y/n #mingi x you #song mingi x reader #song mingi x you #song mingi x y/n #mingi fluff #mingi imagines #song mingi fluff #song mingi imagine

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headfullofpresley · 7 months

Text

𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐧' 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬

Pairing: Elvis Presley x reader

Word count: 4,5K

Summary: You and Elvis are always playing pranks on each other. This Halloween, you come up with a prank that goes horribly wrong as Elvis doesn't think it's so funny and gets genuinely upset. But like always, your partner eventually comes around and gets his revenge.

Warnings: strong language, playing with a ouija board, fake demonic possession, mentions of the devil, elvis being upset, elvis calling reader a bitch, pranks that you probs shouldn't use on other people, tiny bit of angst, reader and larry gellar disliking each other. guess that's it?

A/N: hello, hi! i guess this isn't really spooky but felt like it fit the season! there's pranks in this that i don't advise you to use on anyone unless that's you're kind of humor. wrote this in an hour or so because it randomly popped into my mind and well... i thought it was funny 👀. just want to make clear that this is in no way me making fun of elvis' spirituality in any way, nor is reader, if some people might think thatttt or if it comes across as that. just wanted to write something else rather than a vamp!elvis fic like my brain already was thinking about for halloween, AAAAH. also, this doesn't include all members of the mm or any of the other guys because i didn't know where to place them. okay, bye. p.s: be a smart cookie and don't use a ouija board.

Elvis didn’t care for Halloween.

Never did when he was young and never did as he was growing into an adult. Sure, when he was a little boy and his friends would drag him along to go trick or treating he could appreciate the free candy, but that was about it. After complaining about the people in scary costumes on the street when he was around 7, his mother stopped him from going out on All Hallow’s Eve and he appreciated her doing so.

As he got older, he’d usually be working on the last day of October and whenever he wasn’t, he would rent out the Memphian and watch horror movies with the guys, other friends and some of his fans. He enjoyed playing pranks and scaring the shit out of the people around him, but that’s where celebrating Halloween ended for Elvis.

His Christianity or beliefs didn’t have anything to do with it. He simply preferred holidays that involved lots of homecooked foods, spreading joy, giving gifts and being surrounded by his loved ones. Like Thanksgiving and especially, Christmas.

You on the other hand are obsessed with Halloween. You always put a lot of effort in your costumes and Elvis allowed you to put carved pumpkins by the front door with a lit candle inside of it, but he wouldn’t celebrate with you in any other way than watching movies. You were too old to go trick or treating, so you were happy when Lisa Marie was over at Graceland on some Halloween evenings to do so with her, but this year she unfortunately was in California with her mother.

This Halloween you put little effort into your costume, opting for a black cat suit with a tail, some drawn on whiskers that complimented the dark eye make-up you were sporting, and a pair of black cat ears. Elvis wasn’t complaining because you looked smoking hot in it, but he wasn’t aware that you chose this simple outfit because you had bigger plans for tonight that involved… well, let’s say, a lot of action.

After watching a few movies at the Memphian with Elvis, some fans and the guys, you all made it back to Graceland. It was only around 1 in the morning which was early for the bunch you were living with, so nobody was tired yet. Which was good, because you and Charlie Hodge had come up with the perfect prank to play on Elvis and the two of you managed to convince everyone to get involved in it.

The only one who wasn’t up for it was Larry Gellar and you were slightly worried that he’d out your little plan and ruin the whole thing. You were praying that he’d just go home already, but much to your chagrin, he was sitting on the couch and conversing with Elvis, not looking as if he’d leave any time soon. You were just going to have to risk it.

“Let’s play a game!” You chirped happily as you held up a plastic bag, pulling off your cat tail and throwing it by the side of the couch. “I found this today at the store. The sales girl told me it’s the perfect game to play during Halloween, because then you know it really works,”

Elvis watches with curiosity as you pull a large box out of the bag, turning it around and showing him the front. As he realises you were holding up a ouija board, he was immediately intrigued. Ever the curious person, especially when it came to things about spirituality, Elvis slides to the edge of the couch and takes the box out of your hands, opening the lid to take the board out and inspect it.

“Hell no, I ain’t playin’ that,” Lamar immediately says as he glances at the board and you try to suppress a grin. His reaction was the one you told him to give. If Lamar would play, Elvis was going to take the chance to tease the hell out of him for a week straight because Lamar scared easily when it came to these things.

“Ah c’mon, Fike. It’ll be fun,” Elvis grins as he places the board in the middle of the coffee table. You give Charlie a quick thumbs up and he grins, agreeing to play the game. Sonny and Red agree as well, but Larry decides to sit this one out. You were happy about that and as you go around the living room to dim the lights and light some candles, you feel instantly annoyed when you hear Larry’s voice.

“Elvis, I don’t think this is a good idea. Playing with an object like that can be dangerous, you know?” Larry chimes in, looking at Elvis with worried eyes. Never really having liked Larry, you roll your eyes. Elvis doesn’t see it but Red does and he sticks his finger in his mouth, feigning a gag. The two of you silently laugh and you sit down on the floor by the table, Elvis sliding onto the floor next to you.

“It’s not dangerous, baby. It’s just a game,” you quickly tell Elvis as Larry once more expresses his concern. Elvis looks at Larry once more before he turns to you and grins, kissing the corner of your mouth as he grabs the planchet and puts it on the board. Larry gives you an annoyed glare and you ignore it, happy that he decides to retreat back into the kitchen. Joe sits back on the couch along with Billy to watch the game unfold, simply because there wasn’t enough space for more fingers on the planchet.

“You sneaky sonofabitch. You’re the one movin’ that thing!” Elvis exclaims in slight annoyance as he glares at Sonny who sat on the opposite side of the table. Sonny widens his eyes, trying his best to hold back a laugh as he shakes his head.

“I swear to God, I ain’t doin’ it!”

You and Charlie exchange a knowing look. It was the two of you taking turns sneakily moving the planchet with the tips of your fingers, but Elvis didn’t notice a thing. He was too intrigued and focused on the words “it”, or in this case you, were spelling out. You hadn’t propeely opened communication or whatsoever, so the board wasn’t working at all. You believed that a ouija board could truly work if you wanted it to and you could communicate with… well, someone or something, but that wasn’t the intention for tonight.

You just wanted to play the prank of the century on your man like he has done to you so many times before.

All of you ask random questions at first that require simple answers. Then you decide to take matters further into your own hands and add up the dramatics a notch. You needed it to be spooky. Elvis doesn’t scare easily, the morgue trips he often makes with you were proof of that, and you want him to be terrified tonight.

“Someone dies tonight.”

All of you exchange uncomfortable glances, though only that of Elvis was real. He shifts a little on the floor and takes his finger off the planchet, accusing Charlie instead of Sonny now.

“Hodge, stop pullin’ my leg with this bullshit!” He huffs and Charlie widens his eyes, scared that you and him got caught, and just as he opens his mouth to defend his case, you speak up.

“Elvis! You’re not allowed to take your hands off of it without saying goodbye!” You grab his hand and bring it back to the board, putting his finger back on the planchet. He looks at you and scoffs, squinting his eyes.

“Oooh, I see. It’s you, ain’t it?”

You mentally curse yourself. Was your acting that bad? Shaking your head as you give him your most serious face, you tell him that it’s truly not you who is moving the planchet and before he can question you further, Charlie sneakily spells out something else.

“The girl.”

“That’s it. I ain’t playin’ no more. Say goodbye, goddamnit,” Elvis barks in annoyance. He wasn’t going to admit it out loud but he truly believed the planchet was moving by itself and spelling out these things. He was having fun when they started and asked random and silly questions, but now it was getting a little too serious for him.

A little too scary.

This thing was threatening your life and he felt a sense of paranoia fill his chest. What if you’d really die because of this stupid game?

No. No, you weren’t going to die. It’s just a game. It’s not real- he refuses to believe it’s real.

You quickly say goodbye along with everyone else, moving the planchet over the word before taking your hands off. You bite your lip to hold back a laugh and wrap your arms around Elvis’ neck as he leans back against the couch, crossing his arms after he shoved the board across the table. You giggle softly and hug him, planting kisses on his cheek.

“Stop that worryin’. It’s just a game, El, nothing is going to happen.”

Although he doesn’t believe you and is still worried, he slides his arms around your waist and pulls you onto his lap, hugging you back.

You spent the rest of the late evening playing some music and Elvis doing a spontaneous jam session, which got his mind off of that damned ouija board. After all, it was just a game. Nothing was going to happen and tomorrow afternoon, he’d wake up with you in his arms.

Alive and well.

But as you two got upstairs to his bedroom and got ready for bed, he wasn’t going to take no risks. There was a baseball bat leaning against the wall by the door and a hand gun laying atop of his Bible on the bedside table. You look at it as you got into bed where Elvis already was, sitting against the headboard with the TV on.

“What are you gonna do? Shoot a ghost?” You joke with a soft snort and he looks at you, simply nodding his head.

“Hell. I will if I have to,”

“My protector,” You swoon playfully as you run your fingers through his hair, laughing. He chuckles softly and sighs, kissing your lips before he allows you to settle in the bed. You pretend to watch some TV with him but couldn’t contain your excitement, curious to know what his reaction was going to be when the best part of the prank would play out.

Since you fell asleep pretty quick most of the time, Elvis didn’t think anything of it when he heard you lightly snoring as you had turned your back to him. He had his arm leaning across your hip, needing to touch you in one way or another, always. Unbeknown to him, you were wide awake and looking at the alarm clock on your side of the bed. You had told Charlie to give you twenty minutes before you’d set things into motion and as that amount of time had passed, you started off your little prank slow.

Ease Elvis into it, so to speak.

Pretending you were having a nightmare, you twitch lightly while mumbling some soft incoherent sentences, moaning uncomfortably. Elvis who was still wide awake moves his hand from your hip to your hair, caressing it soothingly as he sits up a little to look over at you. Figuring you’re still sleeping, he leans back against the headboard of the bed but only a split second later, you suddenly shoot up to sit in the bed. Startled, his heart skips a beat and he quickly sits up again too, moving some of your hair over your shoulder. He’s familiar with sleepwalking, but he has never seen you do it before. He knows not to wake someone when they’re in a state like this nor call out their name, but his worries grow by tenfold as your body slumps against him.

And then starts twitching and goddamn near convulsing as you throw your head back. He widens his eyes in shock as your eyes roll in the back of your head, your arms hanging limp by your side. Holding your frame, he tries to keep you still as he cups your face.

“Y/N! Y/N!” He slaps your cheek softly, unsure of what to do in a situation like this. He curses loudly as he reaches over to the phone on the bedside table, putting it to his ear as he calls downstairs and yells to whoever is on the other end of the line to come upstairs.

Like clockwork, Charlie comes running in not much later and feignes a gasp at the sight of your state. Elvis looks over at him, desperate for help.

“Goddamnit, Charlie, do somethin’!” Elvis yells as your body seems to be twisting and turning into uncomfortable positions, arching your back as you let out deep groans and grunts. You didn’t even know your voice could get that low, but you were impressed by yourself.

An eerie feeling washes over Elvis and he slowly lets go of you as you push yourself out of arms, standing on top of the bed. And then you just start… laughing.

Like an absolute maniac.

The sound sent shivers down Elvis’ spine and he quickly got off the bed, standing next to Charlie as they both look at you, unsure of what was happening. Well, at least one of them. Charlie was completely sucked up into his role though and he took a step back, fear in his eyes.

He was a damn good actor.

Something clicked inside of Elvis’ brain as you look at him with a menacing look in your eyes, smirking like the Devil himself just walked into the room.

That goddamned board.

“Get my Bible,” Elvis orders Charlie, never taking his eyes off of you. Charlie does as he’s told and grasps the Bible from the bedside table, handing it to Elvis. The singer takes off the necklace he was wearing with a cross pendant hanging on the silver chain and hands it to Charlie, looking at the smaller male.

“Put this on her forehead,”

“Elvis...” Charlie widens his eyes, holding onto the necklace and pretending to be terrified of going near you. “Can’t we.. can’t we just call an ambulance?!”

Charlie was going to do whatever Elvis told him to do anyways because it makes the situation seem more natural but even if he wouldn’t be acting, the glare that Elvis gives him is enough to have him sprint into action. He runs over to the bed and pulls you down, keeping you down on the mattress as he presses the cross against your forehead. As you look at Charlie, you have to try your damnest not to ruin things and laugh, but luckily you manage to stay in your role.

Writhing on the bed and trying to get out of Charlie’s grip with what truly is little effort but looks like a lot, you let out a bloodcurdling scream. Elvis comes closer to the bed while he is quickly reciting any kind of prayer he thinks might work, reading psalm after psalm. He’s taken back for a second when you did what Charlie and you rehearsed- kicking the brunette off of you and making him land on the floor. You swear you could hear Charlie chuckling, but Elvis is only focused on you.

Now you are the one that is taken back as he gets on top of you and grabs your wrists, holding them above your head as he’s still reciting prayers. He’s yelling at the non existent demon inside of you to get the hell out and Charlie has to muffle a laugh in the palm of his hand, curious about what you were going to do because neither of you expected this.

You felt a laugh bubbling in the back of your throat, so before it could come out, you stop writhing on the bed and drop your head to the side, pretending that the prayers worked and it has all come to an end. Elvis sat on top of you for a few more minutes until he releases your hands and gets up, closing his Bible. He watches you, ready to once more go into action as he sees you casually sit up and get up from the bed. He frowns a little as you walk over to Charlie and hook your arm through his, clearing your throat.

“The end.” You and Charlie gracefully bow, bursting out into uncontrollable laughter.

Until you notice one person in the room isn’t laughing.

Feeling the mood shifting in the room and as if a thunderstorm just passed over Graceland, you stop laughing as you see Elvis glaring at the both of you. You walk over to him as he throws his Bible on the bed and cup his face, but he’s quick to swat your hands away and get back into his bed.

“Elvis, c’mon. Don’t be mad, baby. We were just having a little fun,” you laugh softly, sitting on the edge of his side of the bed. He turns his head to look at you, his blue eyes icy cold. You weren’t unfamiliar with that look but usually it was something more serious that brought it on and you never liked it.

But what you weren’t realising is that this was serious to Elvis. He thought he was going to lose you to some freaky demonic entity.

“Get out.” He simply states in a low voice, turning his head back to the TV that was still on. You look at Charlie and he gives you a little nod, taking you out of the room with him.

You succeeded in pranking the prank master, but you’re afraid you pushed him too far and that simply wasn’t worth it.

You figured Elvis would be over it by the day after Halloween and things would go back to normal. But then again, you know Elvis like the back of your hand and although you were not surprised by him ignoring you for a week straight, you were still hurt.

When he learned that all of the guys were involved in your little prank, he let them have a piece of his mind and that was that. But you were walking on eggshells. He even made you sleep in Lisa Marie’s bedroom for that entire week.

By Sunday night, you were fed up with it. Maybe you had taken things too far, but it was just idiotic that he wouldn’t even let you sleep in the same bed as him.

“What do you think you’re doin’?” He snaps as he watches you burst into the bedroom and get into the bed next to him, fluffing your pillow.

“What does it look like?” Maybe you don’t have the right to be annoyed with him, but you are. He knows how much you hate to be ignored and you’ve been worrying yourself all week with all sorts of doom scenarios, like him ending the relationship.

He grabs your arm to pull you out of bed but you sit up and pull your arm out of his grasp, the words flying rapidly off your tongue. “Good God, Elvis. I’ve told you I’m sorry about a thousand times, but you don’t wanna hear it! You haven’t spoken a word to me in a week. At least yell at me, be angry with me, do something!”

His nostrils flare as his jaw clenches and he sits up more straight, turning his body into your direction.

“You want me to yell? Be angry? Fine!” He barks harshly, his loud rich voice booming off the walls. “I thought I was gon’ fuckin’ lose you that damn night! I thought you really were gon’ die, Y/N. That there was some sonofabitch inside of ya who was takin’ ya away from me. If you think that’s so hilarious, well hell, then you really are an evil bitch,”

You weren’t hurt by him calling you a bitch. You and Elvis fought enough times in the past that involved ugly name calling but you always made up minutes later. It never lasted for days. But learning that he was truly afraid of losing you in that moment causes your heart to clench uncomfortably in your chest. You feel a pang of guilt in your gut and your shoulders slump, tears burning in your eyes as you could see a tear rolling down Elvis’ cheek. He quickly wipes it away and looks at the TV set, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Elvis, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” You exclaim breathlessly as you crawl closer to him and hide your face in his neck, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. His body tenses up but then he quickly relaxes under your touch and wraps his arms around your frame, placing one hand on the back of your head to press you firmer against him. “i didn’t mean to scare you like that, I really didn’t. I just thought it would be a fun prank for Halloween. I never thought it’d turn out like this.”

It was never your intention to truly hurt Elvis or emotionally scare him. Deep down inside, Elvis knows this and he feels a little guilty about giving you the cold shoulder for a week, but he doesn’t feel the need to apologize to you for that. Instead, he accepts your apology with a long tender kiss and then cups your cheeks as he looks into your eyes.

“You can prank me, baby, jus’… no more pranks like that, okay?” He whispers as he brushes some hair out of your face, thumbing a tear away from the corner of your eye. You nod, promising him that you’ll never do something like this again and keep it at small pranks only.

That same night, you and Elvis stand outside at the back of Graceland, watching the ouija board melt into mush in the firepit.

He wasn’t going to take any chances and forbids you to play with a board like that for the rest of your life. You have no problem promising him that you will never touch another ouija board again and content with your answer, he wraps his arm around your shoulder and looks at the flames.

“Don’t ever do that to me again, Little,” he whispers as he presses his nose into your hair, inhaling the scent of your shampoo before he kisses your head. You wrap your arm around his waist and hold him close as you nod, resting your head against his chest. “I can’t lose ya. Ever.”

“I promise, Elvis,” you say as you raise your head and look up at him, kissing his chin. “You’ll never lose me. Even the Devil can’t take me away from you.”

He grins at your words and pecks your lips, but then he pulls his head back and looks past you, frowning. Curious, you look over your shoulder and a hot feeling of fear immediately spreads throughout your chest, widening your eyes as you see two man wearing scary wolf masks stalking toward you and Elvis.

It was only you and your boyfriend at the house tonight, but still when one of the men grabs you and a few others that came from the other side of the premises grab Elvis, you scream at the top of your lungs for help. It doesn’t do much and your vision is taken from you as you’re being blindfolded, a hand being placed firmly over your mouth.

You were thrown in the back of a car and after driving for what felt like hours, you were being lifted out of the car. You couldn’t speak as one of the men had shoved what you guessed was a tie in your mouth because you wouldn’t stop cussing at them in the back of the car. You were surprised they hadn’t knocked you unconscious yet.

You were terrified of what was to come, but more so you were worried sick about Elvis. The last thing you had seen were a couple of masked maniacs overpowering him and dragging him away. Having no idea where he was or if he was even still alive, you were determined to break free and get out of where ever you were.

You needed to get to Elvis. The thought of never seeing him again made your head spin, feeling like you were about to either faint or be ill.

Despite your inner turmoil, you didn’t stop fighting your kidnappers. Not even as you were being placed on a chair, your hands tied behind your back and your ankles tied together. As the fabric was pulled out of your mouth, you were about to scream again until your blindfold was taken off. As your eyes adjust to your surroundings, you widen your eyes when you see Elvis and the Memphis Mafia standing in front of you, all wearing shit eating grins.

You realise you’re sitting in the pool room.

The guys all burst out into rumbling laughter, Elvis included, and he bends down to be at your eye level, his hands placed on his knees as he grins.

“Honey, I’m gon’ say this once and for all,” he bites his lip as he laughs, that mischievous little boy gleam in his eyes. “Don’t prank the master.”

You sarcastically laugh along with him as he unties you, glaring at Lamar who was having an uncontrollable fit of giggles when he tells you you should’ve seen yourself when him and Sonny were driving you around the block to make you think you were being taken somewhere else.

You stand up from the chair as Elvis has let you free and grab a poolstick from the wall. Red snickers.

“We should probably start runnin’ now, huh?”

“Yup.” Elvis smirks, popping the ‘P’ as he shoves the guys out of the way and starts making a run for it. You were immediately hot on all of their heels, your main suspect being Elvis, as you yell profanities at them while trying not to laugh.

Both you and Elvis know that this was only the start of what would become a very, very long prank war and you’re determined to take his title away from him, although you doubted you’d succeed at that.

As long as it didn’t involve ouija boards and any kind of demonic possession, Elvis was ready for whatever you had planned for him. But just to be absolutely sure, he made a mental reminder to have Lisa Marie stay at Graceland for Halloween next year so he could benefit of the free candy and admire your matching costumes with his daughter rather than thinking he was going to have to give you up to the Devil.

Because one way or another, he would shoot the sonofabitch.

taglist: @notstefaniepresley @powerofelvis @breadsquash @generoustreemystic @ab4eva @marriedtopresley @steph-speaks @notstefaniepresley @ellie-24 @dollksj @re3kin @wivette @eliseinmemphis @18lkpeters @rosepresley @ccab @whatstruthgottodowithit @dkayfixates @lettersfromvenus @elvisalltheway101 @that-hotdog @robinismywife @jaqueline19997 @raginginkedslut @joshuntildawn13 @claire-elvisgirl

#elvis #elvis presley #elvis x reader #elvis presley x reader #elvis prompt #elvis presley prompt #elvis headcanons #elvis presley headcanons #elvis smut #elvis presley smut #elvis x y/n #elvis presley x y/n #elvis halloween #elvis fans #tamwrites

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cornfields-and-bad-dreams · 3 months

Text

Applin of my Eye

Rating: General

Ship: Leon/Reader

Warnings: None

Tags: Applin Confession, Oblivious Leon, Misunderstanding.

Summary: Since coming to terms with your feelings for Leon, you've tried to confess, but it hasn't gone so well. Now that Valentine's Day is just around the corner a second wave of motivation has hit you, and you think you have the perfect, FOOLPROOF, way of getting the point across. If only it were that simple.

Valentine's Day always made you feel a little bad, at least since you were thirteen or so. Before that, it was just a fun day where you shared cards with your classmates, had a little class party, and got gifts from your parents. Usually consisting of candy, a card, and some sorta stuffie. Now it was just a brutal reminder that you were alone.

Usually, you wouldn’t really care, and if you did you’d try not to let it sting too badly. But recently things had changed, for about a year and a half now you’d slowly been falling in love with one of your best friends, none other than Galar’s reigning champion Leon. Your feelings had come to a head back in October, up until then you’d done well to ignore and suppress them, but throughout the month it just kept getting harder and harder. Then, the party happened. It was a costume party held by Nessa on Halloween night, Leon was going to be there, but you didn’t know what he was going to be. When you finally saw his costume it left you unable to deny your feelings for him any longer. The costume itself did a lot for you, but the fact it was on Leon? The way it hugged his form, and sparked your imagination with fantasies and scenarios? Well, that was just the icing on the cake.

You agonized over your feelings for a bit, having finally admitted to yourself that you were absolutely head over heels for the man, unsure of how to proceed. At first, you were convinced that he wouldn’t return your affection, how could he? In your eyes, he was a god amongst men, and you were a lowly mortal. But, after a short bout of self-deprecation, you were finally able to come to the conclusion that you just needed to tell him how you felt, no matter the cost.

Easier said than done.

You’d tired, really you had. But something always got in the way, whether it be your nerves winning out in the end, someone interrupting you just as you were about to confess, or something happening to pull either of your attention away from the conversation. Eventually, the holiday season rolled around as well, leaving both you and Leon busy. By the time things calmed down you’d honestly lost all the courage you’d once had, and once again your mind raced with negative what-ifs. Your main concern being that if you did confess and he didn’t reciprocate, then your friendship would be ruined. All though, it had also occurred to you that if he didn’t feel the same then you weren’t sure if you would even want to be friends anymore.

Your feelings were all over the place, the thought of not having Leon in your life, whether romantically or platonically, physically pained you. But so did the idea of all the embarrassment and awkwardness that would come in the aftermath of professing your love for Leon just for him to hit you with “I think we should just be friends.” Despite it being unideal, you found a sort of sad comfort in the sort of Schrodinger's Delcatty situation you were in. If you didn’t tell him how you felt, Leon couldn’t reject you nor could he reciprocate, either way, you kept him in your life and things didn’t change. Even if that change could be for the better.

Except, as Valentine’s Day drew nearer, you grew more restless. TV ads, shop displays, and the general talk of the holiday you heard wherever you went were starting to get to you. The thought of happy couples spending the day together hugging and kissing and just being in love? It made you jealous, but more so, self-conscious. So, for the first time in a while, you’d started thinking about confessing again.

And goddamnit, you almost did it. You had gotten so close to just spitting it out, but that Arceus-forsaken lump in your throat reared its ugly fucking head again. And when you were alone in the comfort of your own home, you cried, and it was ugly.

That was yesterday, the 12th, this morning you woke up to a text from Leon asking if you’d want to spend Valentine's Day with him and some others who were without dates this year. Truth be told the idea of spending Valentine’s Day with him platonically hurt a lot more than the idea of spending it alone, but you could never turn down an offer to hang out with him.

‘Sure, what are we doing?’

He responded a moment later saying that you were all going to be hanging at Gordie’s for the day, watching TV/Movies, playing games, and whatever else might be suggested. It sounded nice, and you quite enjoyed hanging out at Gordie’s, he had a bunch of cool stuff. Sometimes the thought had crossed your mind that if you weren’t madly in love with Leon, you could just seduce Gordie to have permanent access to his things. But that was just a joke, mostly.

After confirming a few more details with Leon you readied yourself for the day and headed out. You tried not to think about your love problems too much, desperately attempting to distract yourself with battling and various other tasks. Yet the thought nagged at you in the back of your mind. By three o’clock your stomach started to growl rather prominently and you realized you hadn’t eaten anything in a while. Making your way to one of your favorite restaurants you took a seat at one of the patio tables and waited for the waiter to take your order. As you waited, you happened to tune into the conversation from the next table over. A pair of boys, who you’d assume were somewhere in their late teens, were discussing Valentine’s Day.

“So, you’re planning on asking out Derrick?”

“Yeah, I figure doing it tomorrow would be romantic, right?”

“Definitely, but how are you gonna do it? Any big plans?”

“I’m gonna give him an Applin, you know what they say about giving someone an Applin, right?”

“OH! That’s a great idea man. He’ll say yes for sure.”

You froze for a moment. An Applin, why hadn’t you thought of that? It would be easier to give Leon an Applin than it would to sputter out some nervous confession. You smiled, plan in mind, as soon as you were done eating you’d head straight over to route 5 to catch the perfect little declaration of love. Love, Loveballs? LOVEBALLS! You nearly jumped out of your seat as the thought raced to mind, you had a whole mess of Loveballs back home. Honestly, you had a whole box full of random Pokeballs shoved in your closet, ones you had acquired through various means over time that you saw no real need for, until now. Course, to use a Loveball you’d need to battle with your own Applin, but that was no problem for you and your precious little À la mode. A Loveball would be perfect for this, maybe a bit extra, but it would certainly get the point across. Something that could come in handy with Leon, you loved the man to bits, but he could be kinda dense at times.

Finishing up at the restaurant you hurried home to retrieve your Loveballs, stopped at the nearest Pokecenter to add À la mode to your team, and finally made your way to route 5. Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you stepped into the tall grass and began your hunt for an Applin.

It took a bit to find one, and even longer to find a female one. Yes, you knew that you could still catch a male one with the Loveball, hell you didn’t even technically need À la mode himself for the task, it just made the catch rate higher. And seeing as Applin on route 5 were usually between Lvl. 16 and 18 it wouldn’t be too hard to catch with the regular catch rate of a Pokeball. But if it hadn’t already been proven to both yourself and countless others, then this whole situation would be proof enough that your natural instinct in life is to make things way more complicated than they have to be, even if it was just for show or better yet, pride.

After about 2 hours you finally had a brand new Applin in a Loveball, you grinned ear to ear as you made your way home, excitement building in your chest. Yet, by the time you passed through your front door, that excitement had turned to anxiety. Sitting at your dining table you stared at the Loveball in front of you, your heart beat a bit faster than usual and your stomach was tied in knots. Were you really gonna do this? Were you actually gonna confess your feelings to Leon on Valentine’s Day? This could end badly, just oh so badly, there was still time to back out. You could release the Applin and pretend the whole dramatic idea had never crossed your mind.

No.

You were gonna stand your ground, you wouldn’t let your nerves get the better of you again. Not this time. Nodding to yourself you placed the Loveball on the small table next to your front door, ready for you when you left the next day. The rest of the night consisted of you deciding on an outfit for tomorrow, cooking dinner, and relaxing the best you could until you went to bed.

Surprisingly you slept well, at least in the sense that you actually slept, normally your nerves would have kept you up all night. But they did manifest in your dreams, one after another depicting various ways your love confession could go sour. Finally rousing from your own mental torture you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and set to work getting ready. When the time finally rolled around to head off for Gordies you halted a moment at the door, staring down at the Loveball you’d nestled amongst the fake decorative fruit you kept in a bowl. Why you kept decorative fruit was a mystery even to yourself. Groaning faintly you grabbed the Loveball and stuffed it in your bag, finally heading out for the day.

Hanging out with everyone at Gordie's was a blast, though throughout the day you kept trying to figure out when would be a good time to give Leon the Applin, you wanted it to be just the two of you, but couldn’t devise a good enough excuse to get him alone. As the day was winding down, and talk of ending the “party” was brought up Leon commented that he needed to be heading out soon anyway, apparently, he was gonna be spending time with his family tomorrow and had planned on staying the night back home in Postwick. You had a wonderful idea.

“Leon?”

You approached him near the door, where he was getting his shoes and jacket on.

“Yeah?”

He smiled at you, straightening up from slipping on his sneakers.

“I was wondering if you would be willing to join me on the train ride home, it’s on the way to Postwick and I’d love to spend some time together, just you and I.” You flashed him a grin.

“Of course, anything for my biggest fan.”

Leon laughed as he slung his arm around your shoulders, you just groaned. He’d started calling you that a while back as a joke, it had since grown a bit old for your tastes, but it made him smile, and you liked it when he smiled.

Gathering your things you headed out with Leon to the train station. It was a relaxing ride, and for a moment you’d forgotten about the Loveball Applin rolling around in your bag. That is until you’d reached your stop. It was a little after 11:30, and you still had a bit of a walk to your place, as Leon strolled alongside you, your deadline of confessing on Valentine's Day was soon to pass. It was now or never. Fortuitously, the quickest way to your place was a shortcut through a rather beautiful park, the perfect place for a love confession. In the middle of the park was a gazebo, and the city had lit it up with pretty pink and red lights, as well as decorating it with fresh arrangements of roses. Stepping into the gazebo you turned to look at Leon.

“Beautiful isn’t it?”

“Gorgeous.” The lights reflected in his eyes as he looked up at the ones hanging from the beams.

“It looks like it could be the setting for a confession scene in some cheesy romance movie.” You gripped your bag tightly.

“Haha, yeah. I can just imagine it.” Leon smiled, Arceus, that smile could make your heart flutter every time.

Checking your phone it read 11:56, four minutes, it was REALLY now or never. Swallowing the infamous lump in your throat you opened your bag.

“I actually have something for you. I didn’t want to make a big deal back at Gordie’s but now that it’s just us, I want to give it to you.”

“Oh?”

Finding the Loveball you quickly grabbed it and presented it to Leon, holding your breath.

“A Loveball?” Leon blinked a few times before taking it from your hand.

“T-there’s a Pokemon inside. You should, um, let it out.”

11:58

“Oh! Of course.”

The Loveball opened and a small burst of light shot out, fading away to reveal the Applin. Time seemed to freeze as you waited for Leon’s response. He grinned, an excited laugh escaping his lips.

“Ah sweet, you caught me an Applin? I’ve wanted one for a while now.” Reaching down he scooped the Pokemon into his arms. “How’d you know?”

Dense, the man was fucking dense.

“Lucky guess I suppose.”

“Haha, well it paid off, I love her. Now I just got to decide what to evolve her into. You have an Applin too right? Any suggestion?”

“Uh, I’m partial to Appletun, but it’s up to you.”

“True, maybe I should talk to Raihan about it. He is a dragon trainer of course, or maybe Milo? He’d have input on the grass typing.” Leon started to ramble a bit.

Looking down at your phone it now read 12:02.

“Fucking hell.” You mumbled.

“Did you say something?”

Leon cocked his head, shaking your own you stuffed your phone in your pocket.

“Just talking to myself, it’s past midnight though, so we should probably get going. You still need to head for Postwick.”

“Oh right, I nearly forgot.”

Leon returned the Applin to its ball and motioned for you to lead the way. The rest of the walk home was filled with Leon telling you about the plans he had with Hop and the rest of his family later that day. Despite the failure of a confession, it still warmed your heart to hear him talk so lovingly about them.

Making it to your place you stopped out front.

“Thanks for walking me home Leon.”

“It’s no problem, I love spending time with you. Thanks for the Applin again, I’ll make sure to take great care of her.”

“I know you will Lee.”

Smiling, Leon placed his hand on your shoulder.

“You’re an amazing friend, I’m really lucky to have you in my life.”

Schrodingers fucking Delcatty.

“Back at ya.”

Waving goodbye Leon headed off for the train station, in the completely wrong direction. After you quickly reminded him where it was he set off on his second attempt, fading away in the dark of the night.

“Back at ya?” You groaned, heading inside. “Fucking stupid.”

Hop woke up to the smell of coffee wafting upstairs from the kitchen, seeing as his parents were more avid tea drinkers it could only mean one thing.

“Leon!” Hop jumped out of bed, not bothering to change out of his sleepwear.

Hurrying downstairs Hop practically drifted into the kitchen, Leon stood at the counter fixing himself a cup of coffee.

“When did you get home? I waited a long time for you, but you never showed.” Hop mildly scolded as he made his way over to Leon.

Leon chuckled apologetically, giving Hop a wave.

“Morning, I got back kinda late, well past midnight. I was hanging out with friends yesterday, then I ended up accompanying [Y/N] home last night.”

Hop sighed, rolling his eyes and shaking his head.

“Well, you’re here now, I guess that’s what really matters.”

“Of course, glad you understand.” Leon patted Hop on the shoulder

“I’d understand a lot more if you made me pancakes.” He grinned mischievously.

“Why didn’t I see that coming?” Leon sighed turning around to gather the needed ingredients and such.

Hop laughed, heading for the kitchen table, huffing as he saw Leon’s backpack lying on it.

“How many times do you need to be told to hang your bag up in the entryway?”

Hop reached for the bag, pulling it from the table, as he did so the pink Loveball rolled out from the open top.

“What the?”

Hop was certain he’d seen all of Leon’s Pokemon, and he was even more certain that none of them were in Loveballs.

“What’s the matter?”

Leon turned to him, a bowl cradled in his arm as he whisked a batch of batter.

“Since when do you use Loveballs?” Hop asked, holding up the pink ball.

“Oh, [Y/N] gave it to me last night, it’s an Applin. I guess they noticed I’d wanted one and got it for me.”

Hop blinked.

“What?” Leon stopped whisking.

“[Y/N] gave you an Applin in a Loveball, on Valentine’s Day?”

“Yeah, why?”

Hop knew his brother could be a little oblivious at times, but this was a level of stupidity that he’d never seen Leon reach before, and he prayed to Arceus he’d never reach again.

“Lee, I’m gonna need you to think about that statement very carefully, and focus on what all those aspects could mean together.”

Leon scrunched his face up in confusion, setting the bowl of batter down he crossed his arms in thought. Hop could almost see the wheels turning in Leon’s head as he thought hard. And as if he were the human lead in that silly little kids show from both their childhoods, with that funny little shiny Rockruff, and her perfectly placed blue pawprint clues, Leon connected the pieces of the mystery together masterfully. A look of realization, and a bit of horror, took over his face as he finally came to the conclusion.

“Was [Y/N] trying to confess their feelings to me!?” He hollered.

“Keep your voice down, Mom and Dad are still asleep.” Hop hushed. “And I don’t know for sure, but I’d assume they were.”

“That would make so much sense, especially with the Gazebo.” Leon gripped the edge of the counter tightly, staring down into the bowl of batter without actually looking at it.

“Gazebo?” Hop questioned lightly.

“Doesn’t matter.” Leon shook his head lightly, pushing himself back from the counter. “I gotta go talk to [Y/N]”

Leon rushed for the entryway, grabbing his jacket and starting to put his shoes on.

“Woah there, slow down Lee. What are you doing?”

Hop followed behind, placing himself between Leon and the front door.

“I have to clear things up with [Y/N].”

Hop sighed, shaking his head.

“Lee, we have plans today, besides, you’re still in your pajamas.”

Leon looked down, noting that he was, in fact, still wearing his ratty old tank top and loose sleep pants.

“You have a point there, but I feel terrible, they did something so romantic and I went and ruined it by letting it all soar right over my head.”

Leon rubbed at his face, hiding behind his hands.

“Lee, it’s gonna be fine.” Hop placed a hand on his brother's shoulder. “You’ll clear things up with them later, after you’ve gotten dressed and we spend the day together, besides, it’ll give you time to think about what exactly you’ll say right?”

Leon lowered his hands, giving Hop a tired smile.

“Yeah, you’re right. Maybe I can ask Mom and Dad for some advice.”

“That’s the spirit. Now, can you finish making my pancakes?”

Leon huffed, breaking out into a grin, ruffling Hop’s hair he slung his arm around his shoulder and dragged him back into the kitchen.

“Is that all you care about?”

It had been about two days since ‘The Incident’, you hadn’t tried talking to Leon yet and he hadn’t messaged you either, which had you feeling conflicted. On the one hand, you weren’t particularly ready to talk to him, on the other, the thought kept running through you’re mind that he’d finally realized what the loveball Applin meant and was now actively ignoring/avoiding you. It was definitely paranoia, you understood that, but understanding it didn’t make it go away. Regardless, you laid back on the couch, looking through the videos YouTube suggested for you, you desperately scanned over the thumbnails looking for something to distract yourself with, unfortunately, nothing caught your eye. Suddenly your phone buzzed.

‘Are you home?’

It was from Leon, your blood ran cold.

‘Yeah, why?’

You felt you knew why but needed some confirmation.

‘Can I come over? I need to talk to you, it’s important.’

You felt your stomach tie into knots. You, REALLY, didn’t want to see Leon right now. You weren’t mad of course, but after the other night's failed confession? You were feeling less than stellar. You hadn’t even left your apartment since then.

‘Are you sure? It’s getting kinda late, isn’t it?’

It wasn't that terribly late, but it was worth a shot.

‘That doesn’t matter, we need to talk, and it can’t be done over text. Please?’

You wanted to say no, Arceus you wanted to say no, yet despite everything that had happened Leon was still your number one weakness.

‘Okay, you can come over.’

Leon thanked you, saying he’d be over in a few. Taking a deep breath, you calmed your growing nerves and waited.

Leon must have been nearby already, seeing as it only took about ten minutes for him to knock on your door.

"Hey, Leon."

Opening the door you greeted him with the happiest and calmest tone you could muster.

"Hey, thanks for letting me come over." He smiled nervously as he stepped inside.

“Well, you did say it was important.”

You gave a forced chuckle, your heart pounding in your chest as you shut the door. Leon nodded without a word, though his eyes spoke plenty enough for him. You could tell he was just as anxious as you, yet it didn’t make you feel any better. You stood in silence a moment, the two of you just staring, you’d expected him to say something.

“Sooo, what did you want to talk about?” You finally decided to break the silence.

Leon swallowed heavily, blinking a few times before seemingly mustering up the nerve to speak.

“It, uh, has to do with the Applin you gave me.” Slinging his bag off from his shoulders Leon rummaged in it a moment before pulling out a loveball. “I’m a little embarrassed to admit it, but it took Hop pointing out the significance of everything for me to realize what you were trying to say. Or, at least, what I think you were trying to say.”

Leon stared down at the ball in his hand, running his thumb back and forth across it.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get it at first, I certainly feel like an idiot, it’s so obvious in hindsight.” He gave a soft nervous laugh.

Clearing his throat he looked up at you.

“Regardless, I um, I keep finding it hard to, uh, find my words. So, here.” He held out the loveball.

Your heart skipped a beat and your breath caught in your throat, was he returning the Applin? Tears welled in your eyes, threatening to spill over as you slowly reached out to take the loveball from him. You felt weak and shaky, half expecting your legs to give out on you at any moment. Holding the loveball in your hand just made it worse, quickly, you moved past Leon to set it on the counter separating your kitchen from your living room.

“T-thanks.”

Wiping the tears from your eyes you wondered why thanking him was your immediate response, though to be honest, you weren’t sure how one would normally respond to a situation like this.

“Oh, uh.” Leon seemed confused, looking back and forth between you and the loveball. “Aren’t you gonna let it out?”

Oh, that felt like adding an insult to injury.

“No.” The word came out a bit angrier than you’d intended, you adjusted your tone going forward. “I get it, Leon, you don’t feel the same way about me as I do you so you’re returning the Applin. I don’t need to see it.”

You’d taken to squeezing your hands, your gaze drifting away from Leon. If you were looking at him though, you would have seen his eyes widen and his complexion pale a bit. Suddenly he was waving his hands.

“NO! No no no, you misunderstand, that’s my fault, I’m sorry. I should have been clearer.”

You looked back in time to see Leon grab the ball off the counter and place it in your hand, his one hand holding your wrist his other keeping the Loveball in your palm.

“Just open it, I promise. Trust me.”

You blinked a few times in shock, but seeing Leon's soft hopeful smile filled you with comfort. You nodded your head and went to send out whatever was in the ball.

“Wait, wait.” Leon stopped you suddenly.

Looking around, Leon proceeded to move your dining table and chairs over to the side, as well as push some other furniture and stuff around. Once he seemed pleased with the space he’d made he came back over to your side.

“Okay, you can continue now.”

Giving a small laugh you smiled and called out the Pokemon.

A flash of light shot out from the loveball, and even before the Pokemon had fully appeared you could tell it was bigger than an Applin. Once it was fully present it took you a second to register what you were looking at, but once you had, you gasped.

“A Ponyta?”

You grinned and squealed in joy as you approached the adorable little pastel Pokemon. It whinnied and danced around a moment before coming over to where you’d settled on your knees near it. You ran your hands through its mane and over its coat of fur.

“I know how much you’ve wanted one, and how unlucky you’ve been with finding one for yourself. So, I spent the majority of today and last evening looking for this little guy. I actually got lost in Glimwood Tangle for a bit, Madame Opal had to help me find my way back to the main path. I’m not sure how she knew I was lost but thank Arceus she did.”

You laughed along with Leon, combing your fingers through the Ponyta’s mane some more. Giving it a final scratch behind its ear you returned it to the loveball and stood up. Holding the ball with both hands you smiled looking down at the heart on the front of it.

“You didn’t have to do all that.” You said softly.

Leon stepped closer, gently taking hold of your wrists.

“I wanted to.”

Looking up at him you smiled, moving your right hand up to cup his cheek.

“Oh, Lee.”

Moving your hand to the back of his head you pulled him towards you as you leaned in closer, connecting your lips. Leon wrapped an arm around your waist, the other coming up to cradle the back of your head as well. The two of you stayed like that for a moment, enjoying your first kiss, after breaking away Leon spoke.

“I’m sorry I caused you so much stress.”

“Well, if I’d been able to gather enough courage to confess properly in the first place there wouldn’t have been any confusion.”

Leon laughed a bit.

“Why don’t we say we’re both at fault and call it even?”

“Deal.”

#pokemon leon x reader #leon pokemon x reader #leon pokemon #leon swsh #pokemon reader insert #my writing

62 notes · View notes

sycamorelibrary754 · 6 months

Text

Guardian Angel

Chapter 4: Fly Me to the Moon

Summary: In your worst moment, Wanda is there for you.

Warnings: Trigger Warning—car accident, blood, injuries, hospital, surgery.

Word Count: 3k

A/N: This was an intense chapter. 😭 Shoutout to @arlana-likes-to-write for helping me with some dialogue at the end.

Guardian Angel Masterlist

On this gloomy Friday morning, you came to the decision that if you had a superpower, it would be the ability to fly. You could effortlessly soar above the annoying traffic and get to work on time. However, the sad reality is that you are no superhero. You can barely work the defroster in your car.

This morning, you woke up to the realization that your alarm had failed to go off. You had overslept and were now rushing to get ready for work. You had to forego your usual morning routine of sipping on coffee and listening to relaxing music, which usually helped you start your day on a positive note. Instead, you took a hurried shower and got dressed as quickly as you could. You had to get out of the door as soon as possible to avoid getting stuck in the morning traffic. The rain outside only added to your sense of urgency. As you drove across town, you couldn't help but worry about getting to work on time. The Candy Bar had recently become increasingly busy, especially with the start of the holiday season. You were hesitant to leave Harper to handle the rush all by herself.

Rain lashed against your windshield. The windshield wipers whipped back and forth over the window of your black Honda Acura, attempting to clear away the large droplets clinging to the glass. Wary of the number of cars around, you gripped the steering wheel a bit tighter. As you approached the intersection of Second Avenue and Crosby Street, your traffic light turned green. You began to cross the threshold of the intersection when suddenly, a green car to your right rushed through the intersection at full speed, presumably trying to beat the red light. It happened so fast that you barely saw it coming out of the corner of your eye. You quickly slammed on the brakes and tried to turn the car to avoid a direct collision. The sound of your car's screeching brakes and tires skidding on the wet pavement shattered the silence of the street. In that split second, images of your life flashed across your mind like a slideshow. You saw yourself as a child, your high school graduation, your first day of college, and the day you opened The Candy Bar. All these moments seemed to flash before your eyes as you struggled to regain control of your car. But it was too late. Your car was struck with a tremendous force, causing it to flip once, then twice before landing upside down in the middle of the street. The last thing you remembered before the airbag deployed was the sound of shattering glass and the distant sound of cars piling up. Everything went black after that.

*^~^*

Natasha was undeterred by bad weather. She ran like clockwork every morning, converting her emotional pain into miles covered. She had a warrior spirit that never quit and knew that training was the key to success. Even off the clock, her training stayed with her, making her more alert, confident, and always on the lookout for vulnerabilities.

Maria was better at compartmentalization. Outside of work, a run was a run. That’s why when they both awoke this morning to the relaxing sound of rain, she was keen to skip the run and cuddle in bed with Nat just a bit longer. Unfortunately, she did not win that argument. Which is how she found herself running down the street next to her better half in the rain; hoodie pulled tight over her head. The soundtrack of their morning was the splish splash of their running shoes as they pounded through the puddles that had formed along their usual route.

"Let's go one more block, and then we'll head back," Natasha shouted over the sound of the rain.

"Thank God," Maria whispered.

“What was that, malyshka?”

"Sure thing, sweetheart!" Maria replied, giving a thumbs up.

As you approached the intersection of Second Avenue and Crosby Street, your traffic light turned green. You began to cross the threshold of the intersection when suddenly, a green car to your right rushed through the intersection at full speed, presumably trying to beat the red light. It happened so fast that you barely saw it coming out of the corner of your eye. You quickly slammed on the brakes and tried to turn the car to avoid a direct collision. The sound of your car's screeching brakes and tires skidding on the wet pavement shattered the silence of the street.

In the midst of a peaceful moment, a sudden, piercing screech shattered the tranquility. The two women turned their attention to the source of the noise and were met with the terrifying sight of a black car hydroplaning wildly out of control through the intersection nearby. Their breaths caught in their throats as they watched in horror as a green car, careening recklessly from the opposite direction, slammed into the driver's side door of the spinning vehicle. The black car was sent flying, rolling twice before coming to a rest upside down in the center of the street. The sickening sound of metal bending and glass shattering echoed eerily through the rain-slicked air as multiple cars piled up behind it, as if they had all hit an invisible brick wall.

"Call it in!" yelled Maria.

*^~^*

After dropping her boys off at school, Wanda pulled into her driveway when a call came through on her Bluetooth. She quickly answered the call from FRIDAY's interface, displaying the compound's number.

“Ms. Maximoff, there has been a multi-vehicle accident approximately 2.3 miles from your current location. There are possible fatalities and multiple injuries. The team is on the way and requires your assistance.”

“On my way.”

As soon as Wanda landed on the scene, she could see chaos all around her. Bruce, who had already arrived, was frantically setting up triage to tend to the injured while Maria was busy establishing a secure perimeter to keep the bystanders at a safe distance. The sound of distant sirens could be heard in the background, growing louder with each passing moment, as emergency services rushed to the scene. Onlookers had gathered, their faces etched with worry and fear, as they watched the unfolding events with a mix of shock and disbelief.

“Where do you need me?”

That car took the worst of it,” Natasha interjected, pointing to the overturned black car in the intersection. “See if you can help Stark with the driver!”

Wanda sprinted to the scene and arrived at the car just as Tony touched down, quickly scanning for a heat signature.

“One occupant. Female, early 30s, multiple injuries, vital signs thready,” FRIDAY read.

Wanda crouched down to ground level and tried to peer through the broken window. Droplets of water ran down her skin making it difficult to see. Her breath left her body as she finally took in the sight in front of her. You were still strapped into the driver's seat, the airbag deflated in front of you like an old balloon. Blood was trickling slowly down the side of your bruised and battered face. Wanda stood up and frantically tried to pull open the upside-down door, but the frame was bent badly out of alignment.

"Whoa, Red! What are you doing? There's a safer way," Tony shouted.

“I know her!”

A repulsor ray from Iron Man’s hand quickly cut through the hinge of the car door. Wanda reached inside and unbuckled you from the seat. A trail of blood followed you across the pavement as she carefully slid your unconscious body from the car.

“Don’t do this to me, y/n. I can still feel you.”

Sam rushed over and applied pressure to your stomach wound, his military training kicking in.

“I got this Wanda. Cap and Bucky need your help.”

The redhead looked over to see two super soldiers working to pry twisted metal apart in order to free other drivers from their cars. She then glanced back down at you, her breathing uneven as she hesitated, not wanting to leave your side.

"Friday, please contact the nearest Level One Trauma Center and inform them of the situation," Tony instructed.

“Go!” Sam exclaimed.

Wanda's powers sprang into action, swiftly clearing the debris from the center of the pile-up and creating a path for Steve and Bucky to reach the other victims. The relentless rain showed no signs of letting up, and it was causing water to collect around the wreckage. After what felt like an eternity, Wanda finally made her way back to you, deftly navigating through the maze of broken and battered cars. As she approached, she could see that you were still lying motionless on the ground, a few feet from your vehicle. Meanwhile, Sam and Yelena were working frantically to save you. Sam was applying pressure to your abdominal wound, while Yelena was administering CPR. However, they were so focused on keeping you alive that they failed to notice the fuel leaking from your gas tank. Wanda, on the other hand, could see the puddle forming near them on the ground, and she knew that they needed to move quickly to avoid a potential disaster.

“Sam, Yelena!” she screamed.

Your car ignited in a flash of fire just as Wanda reached you again. The bright flash hit her eyes just before the force of the explosion knocked the three of them back. She acted purely on instinct, containing the explosion in a sphere of glowing red energy. Dropping to the ground in exhaustion as the blast was diffused.

"Well done," Steve praised as he helped Wanda to her feet.

"Where are the first responders, Hill?" asked Bruce.

“The rain and the pile-up are making it difficult to get through. I’m working on it.”

“She can’t wait. We need to get her out of here now,” Sam cautioned, removing his undershirt and packing your wound.

“I’ve got a pulse,” Yelena announced.

"St. Peter’s is the closest hospital," Kate said.

“I’ll clear a path,” Clint offered.

"No," Tony interrupted. "Take her to the compound. Get her to the MedBay. I'll notify Helen." He locked eyes with Wanda.

She looked into Tony's eyes, searching for insincerity, but found none.

“FRIDAY, run an X-ray and CT scan to assess spinal stability,” he ordered.

“The spine is stable, boss,” FRIDAY replied.

“Take her,” Tony ordered.

Wanda picked you up tenderly and vanished into the weeping grey sky. If she hastened, she could reach the compound within five minutes. Wanda prayed silently that you would hold on for that long, while tears streamed down her cheeks.

A sharp intake of breath brought you around as searing pain surged through your broken body. A mixture of blood and water hit your tastebuds. Your vision was blurry and your hair was falling wetly in front of your eyes, but you could just make out Wanda’s face staring down at you. Her eyes began to glow red, and you felt the same sense of calm wash over you as the day you met her.

“Stay with me, y/n. We’re almost there.”

Your eyes grew heavy as you succumbed to unconsciousness once more.

*^~^*

“Concussion, ruptured spleen, two cracked ribs, shattered collarbone, collapsed lung, fractured ankle.”

As Wanda stood there, her hands instinctively flew to her mouth, trying to suppress the gasp that threatened to escape her lips. The tears in her eyes were a clear indication of the emotions that were bubbling inside her. She couldn't bring herself to accept what she was hearing, but as Dr. Cho went on reciting the list of injuries you sustained, the harsh reality of the situation hit her like a ton of bricks.

“She’s in surgery right now. We can try to regenerate the damaged tissue with the cradle once she is stable. The nano-molecular functionality is instantaneous, but with the severity and number of injuries, it’s going to take some time. Y/N will have a long road to recovery ahead of her.”

Wanda simply nodded her head, too afraid to say anything that might cause her to break down.

“Do you know if she has any family we should notify?”

“No, I don’t. I’m sorry,” barely above a whisper.

“It’s going to be a long day. You look exhausted, why don’t you try and get some rest? I’ll have FRIDAY notify you when there is an update.”

“No, no, I’ll stay. I just need to call Darcy to see if she can pick up the boys from school, but I’ll stay. I want to be here when she wakes up,” Wanda said somberly.

Helen placed a comforting hand on Wanda’s shoulder before turning and walking back into the Operating Room. The redhead sat down on the sofa in the corner of the Med Bay, unable to process everything that had happened in the last hour. Her mind replays the image of your broken figure lying upside down and motionless in your car. She glanced down at the drops of your blood staining her shirt, the shock prevented her from feeling anything.

The sound of the rain outside continued to fill the room, as Wanda sat in the compound waiting room. Nurses and doctors walked in and out, their faces unfamiliar to her. She sat there, anxiously watching the clock, as one hour turned into two, and then three. Suddenly, a text message from Darcy lit up her phone, offering to help with the boys for as long as she needed. Wanda felt grateful for the offer, and quickly sent a reply thanking her. She took off her coat and balled it up to create a makeshift pillow. She curled up on one end of the sofa and let her gaze linger on the door of the operating room. The redhead felt her eyelids grow heavy, and soon she fell asleep within minutes, her body relaxed and at ease.

A gentle nudge on her shoulder woke Wanda after half an hour. She looked up to see Sam and Yelena standing nearby.

“Mhmm, what are you guys doing here?” She murmured.

“We wanted to see how she was doing,” Sam said.

“Y/N”

“Y/N,” Sam repeated.

“How is she?” Yelena asked, taking a seat beside her.

I don't know," she said as she dragged her hands down her tired face. "I spoke to Helen when they first brought her into the OR, but I haven't heard anything since. She's in pretty bad shape," tears threatening to fall again. "What happened after I left the scene? Were there any casualties?

“No, thankfully.” Sam shared. There were a few other serious injuries; broken back, internal bleeding, severe whiplash. The first responders were able to get through a couple of minutes after you left. Hill wants to have a meeting with law enforcement to discuss how we can work together to improve response times.”

Wanda struggled to speak, her words catching in her throat. "Thank you for what you both did for her," she finally managed to say.

Sam placed his hand on Wanda's thigh and said, "I'll be back with a change of clothes for you."

"Can I ask how you know y/n?" Yelena asked softly once they were alone.

“… She was… is the woman I helped in the café, and I bought the candy for Billy and Tommy’s birthday from her sweet shop.”

“Does she know you have feelings for her?”

“What are you talking about?”

"Oh, little witch. Don’t tell me you are that deep in denial?" she says, her voice laced with a mix of disbelief and concern. "We risk our lives every day to help people survive the worst moment of their lives. We are trained to do so with composure and presence of mind because otherwise, we risk letting our emotions affect our actions in the field," she continues. “You can't argue with that - it's the truth. I’ve fought alongside you for almost three years, and in all that time I’ve never seen you react the way you did today. You care for her," she says, her tone softening.

Wanda averted her gaze from Yelena, fixing it instead on an imaginary point on the dull white wall right in front of her.

“I barely know her,” Wanda sighed. “She doesn’t know me at all. Honestly, I’m not sure she should,” a single tear rolling down her cheek that she quickly wiped away.

“That is what you think, not what she thinks. Let her in. Sooner rather than later,” placing a loving hand on her arm.

"Wanda?" Helen interjected softly as she walked out of the operating room.

The redhead stood up anxiously. “Y/N is out of surgery and stable. It was touch and go at times, but she pulled through. She’s still under, but you can go sit with her if you’d like. Room 4”

“Thank you, Helen. Thank you,” hugging Helen before looking back at Yelena.

“Go on, I’ll wait here.”

*^~^*

Wanda took a deep breath before opening the door to your room. The sight that greeted her was heartbreaking. Your face had bruises, and your hair was unkempt. You had a nasal cannula on your face, and there were several butterfly stitches. Your left arm was in a sling, and your right leg was in a cast below the knee, propped up gently on a pillow.

Despite your physical appearance, you looked peaceful. If it weren't for the steady beep of the heart rate monitor, she might've thought you were only sleeping. The redhead took a seat at your bedside, unable to take her eyes off you. Wanda could hardly believe she was sitting here. Three weeks ago, she didn't even know you existed. Now she was sitting in your dreary grey hospital room, praying you would wake up soon.

A young nurse walked into the room with a tablet in her hand. She recorded your vital signs and acknowledged Wanda's presence with a nod and a sympathetic smile. After leaving the room, Wanda was left alone with her anxious thoughts. She replayed your two brief encounters in her head and began to worry about your recovery. She couldn't recall you mentioning any family or significant other, which made her concerned about what your recovery would look like if it was true that you were all alone.

As you slowly started to stir, a barely audible groan broke Wanda from her trance. Hearing the sound, her head snapped in your direction. You felt heavy and broken all over your body, and when you tried to shift slightly, everything hurt. Gradually, the blinding light subsided, and you began to take in your surroundings, but you had no idea where you were or how you got there. Panic started to set in before a soft, sweet voice met your ears.

“Y/N, hey, hey… it’s okay. You’re okay. I’m right here.” grasping your hand.

You turned your head and saw Wanda's beautiful green eyes.

“Wanda?” Tears form in your eyes. “What happened? Where am I? What are you—?” Your raspy voice cracked and set you into a coughing fit. Wanda reached across your body and grabbed a cup of water sitting on the bedside table. Helping you to sit up slowly, she held the cup to your lips as you took small sips. She rubbed gentle circles on your back as the coughing subsided and your lungs relaxed.

“Easy, easy.. that’s it,” helping you lay back down. “You were in a car accident, y/n, but you’re going to be okay, I promise. You’re in the MedBay. It’s the hospital wing of the Avengers compound.” You stared at her for a few moments. Your brain was fuzzy, and you were having trouble understanding everything she was saying to you, “Avengers comp—what?” your voice hoarse and tired.

“I’ll get Dr. Cho,” reaching for your call button.

"No, no wait just wait," she did. She said you were in the Avengers compound but that means-no that's impossible. You couldn’t believe you hadn’t recognized her before. "You're an Avenger," you said slowly, her green eyes cast downwards to avoid looking at you. "Right?" You questioned when her silence wasn't a good enough answer. "That's the only way they would allow me in here."

"I am," she finally spoke but her eyes remained trained on the ground. "But I didn't want you to find out." You were a little taken aback by her confession. The stories that surrounded the Avengers were nothing short of heroic.

"Why wouldn't you want me to find out?" You questioned, voice barely above a whisper. "Being an Avenger is amazing. You are a hero. You-" you trailed off as you watched the woman sink into herself. "Wanda, why didn't you want me to know?" Sighing, she bit her lip and looked up at you.

"Does the town of Westview, New Jersey mean anything to you?"

*Chapter 5 coming soon*

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ruggiethethuggie · 8 months

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R U G T O B E R

wc: 781 a/n: i'm telling you now, I may fall short on this but we will do our best lmao and idk what happened to my cute banner. forgive me.

“♪♪ Spooky Scary Skeletons, Send shivers down your spine~”

You had been cleaning around the Ramshackle dorm all day because to be honest, it just needed more TLC than what you had been able to give it lately. It was the last day of September, but this was just the beginning of your real spooky season.

Every year you’d do a deep clean and then decorate your home in festive decorations. Bright green and purple witches’ hats and cauldrons, a bucket on every table with Halloween candies, and your favorite ghosts and pumpkins placed in just the right spots.

Decorating Ramshackle felt different than when you’d do your house back home, but you were trying to make the best of it since this was your favorite holiday. So you woke up this morning and immediately got to work and turned on your spooky music playlist after breakfast.

DING DONG !

You stopped in your tracks, trying to figure out why on earth someone would be here this early- and on the weekend nonetheless. You tossed your cleaning rag onto the couch and opened the front door.

“Hi, I have some pumpkin spice drinks for-,” they acted like they were reading a nonexistent label on the two drinks in their hands. “For a Y/N? Do you know them? They’re still supposed to tip me for these~”

The hyena beastman standing in your doorway gave a fangy grin as he handed you one of the drinks. “Rug, what are you doing here? Do you realize how early it is?” You stepped aside so he could come inside the dorm.

“Mmph,” he said with a nod as he drank his drink and plopped down on the couch, scooting the dirty cleaning rag away from him with his hand. He placed his drink on the coffee table, making sure he was using the coasters sitting out.

“I mean, yeah, I know what time it is. It’s spooky time.” You rolled your eyes at him and chuckled. “Okay, sure, but why not come over later? It’s like the crack ass of dawn right now,” you said as you leaned over the back of the couch next to him. “What? You don’t want my help? Aren’t you putting up your decorations today? Sure looks like you could use me. Y’know I used to work for a Spirit Halloween one time. It was a seasonal gig, but this guy was the one in charge of putting up all the displays.”

He looked so proud of himself as he spoke; he was so happy to share his Halloween decoration accomplishments with you. “Oh, wow~” you said sarcastically. “You mean I’m here with a world renowned Halloween decorating connoisseur? And to think I go to the same school as them! Amazing…”

“Alright, butthead. I guess I’ll just leave then.” He got up from the couch and grabbed his drink. “Ahhh, guess all those… fun… fall ideas I had can go down the drain…,” he said in a sulking tone as he took a few steps towards the door before turning back to look at you.

“Don’t give me those eyes, you heathen.” You playfully glared at him, racking your brain to figure out his silly little schemes. “What kind of ‘fun fall ideas’ are you talking about?”

“Oh… it’s nothing. Nothing you wanna go do with me anyways. Guess I’ll have to find another to enjoy this Rugtober with.” He had his hand on the doorknob and a wide grin on his face as he looked at you. He knew what he was doing.

“Rugtober? What the hell is that?” you chuckled as you put your drink down and grabbed your cleaning rag once again.

“Uhh?! Only the best time of the year- and if you wanna join, you have to get a ticket from yours truly.”

You narrowed your eyes at him again and crossed your arms over your chest. “What’s the ticket gonna cost me?”

Ruggie opened the door and took another big sip of his drink. “Where’s the fun in me telling you? I’ll see you tomorrow, at the crack ass of dawn again, shyeheehee~”

“HEY?!” you shouted to him, his head popping back in before the door shut completely. “You’re just gonna leave? I thought you came to help decorate?!”

Ruggie looked around and snickered. “You look like you got it taken care of, Y/N. Seee youuu tomorrroowwwww~,” he sang as the door shut. You stood there and wondered what plans this “Rugtober” season would bring to you. At least this stupid pumpkin drink he brought you was going to fuel you through your cleaning, but you couldn’t help but wonder what he was scheming.

#~.writing #~.twst #~.rugtober #twisted wonderland #disney twst #ruggie bucchi #ruggie twst #ruggie x reader #twst x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #ruggie bucchi fluff #twst fluff #ruggie imagines #ruggie bucchi imagines #twst imagines #twst headcanons

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f10werfae · 2 years

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A Halloween For Three

pairing: Husb!Dad!Chris x Short!Wife!Mom!reader

Summary: Can you do a short on Chris and short reader and the triplets Halloween like taking them trick or treating and their costumes please! (request by anon)

requests are open/likes, comments and re-blogs are appreciated♥️

Chris Evans Masterlist, Full Masterlist, Taglist Form

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

- For Halloween the Evans family decided to dress up like Toy Story. The three triplets being the three aliens, Y/n was little Bo Peep and Chris was Woody

- With it being the first time the triplets are going trick or treating, each of them had their own customised baskets for their candy. Isabella chose a sparkly pink pumpkin basket, with the boys choosing green and blue.

- At one of the houses they got to, unfortunately there wasn’t enough candy left for little Isabella, the younger of the three. Noah and Jacob took it upon themselves to actually take some of their own candy and put it in her basket; a wide toothy grin plastered onto her tiny cute face

- Chris on the other hand along with protectively watching over his three buggers, also kept an eye on his wife, who was now heavily pregnant with their fourth baby. Despite Chris' pleas, Y/n was adamant on walking around their suburban neighbourhood to support their kids on their first proper venture of the outside world.

- With one hand wrapped around her waist at all times, Chris found himself smiling to himself at the sight of his family at one of his favourite holiday seasons. After carving pumpkins the night before, Chris couldn’t help but feel a sense of fulfilment at the sight of his three kids jumping up and down each time they got a piece of candy.

- “Dada look, got jellybeans” Noah smiled holding up the packet of colourful sweets to his dad, he knew Chris' favourite candy, something that always warmed Chris’ heart.

- “Dada Uppies” Jacob whimpered holding his arms up for his father, “alright c’mere my little green alien” Chris cooed. Jacob nuzzling himself into his father’s arms, Noah and Isabella holding hands as they skipped down the sidewalk, Y/n and Chris following closely behind them.

- “Alright kids, let’s get home. Your momma needs some rest, and I know you little stinkers need bathed” Chris called after Noah and Isabella, watching his exact doubles turn and run back towards them laughing loudly at their father’s name for them

- Once arriving back home, Y/n relaxed onto their comfortable velvet sofa after having showered and removed het costume. Chris took it upon himself to take on bath duty that night, watching his three babies play with their toys in the tub, with them only being three he still couldn’t help but feel they were growing up too fast

- Heck the three pumpkins they each had tried to carve was placed on their front porch, stickers even being placed all over them

- Once the kids had each been read their own respective bed time stories, Chris slipped into bed beside his wife who was readily waiting for her nightly cuddles. During this pregnancy, Y/n found herself wanting more and more affection, both with her babies and her husband. An overload of family love overall

———

Taglist Tags (Form is up there^^): @s-void @oliviah-25 @mischiefsemimanaged @nikkitc0703 @chrisevansangel @chrisevansdaughter @cevansgurl @marvelgurl @evanstanwhore @taramaria @mirikusashes @evanstanwhore @patzammit @pandaxnienke @bxdbxtxh15 @dumb-fawkin-bitch @seren-a-ity @thereisa8ella @sairsei @jackslover12 @hallecarey1 @misshale21 @meetmeatyourworst @imboredat2am @adoreyouusugar @fdl305 @stormcloudss @vrittivsanghavi @uwiuwi @caps-shield1918 @xoxokiaraaxoxo @mysticfalls01 @royalwriteroftheuniverse @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @madebylilly @kimhtoo17 @itsaylayay1213 @mrspeacem1nusone

#romance #chris evans imagine #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans #chris evans one shot

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gaybananabread · 7 months

Note

hii! for the tickletober prompts, how about lee dipper with day 12? like the ler (they can be whoever you see fit!) knows/discovers he is really weak to them so they get him. hope you're doing well!

TickleTober Day 12 - Nibbles/Bites

Thank you! I had a helluva time picking a ler for this, but I think Stan fits best. I need to write for him more anyways. This idea ironically happened less than 10 minutes after I finally chose Stan. My brain is weird like that (TvT). I hope you have a fun spooky season, Enjoy!

Lee: Dipper

Ler: Stan

Summary: Dipper is stressing out over the summer spooky season. Stan decides he needs a visit from a special kind of monster.

Warnings: none! This is a tickle fic, so if you don't like that, scroll away!!

Once again, the Gravity Falls Summerween store opened its doors. The odd tradition began again for the year, residents joyful as they picked out candies and decided on costumes. Well, every resident but one.

A certain brown-haired, blue-hatted tween was sitting in the Mystery Shack gift shop, biting at his fingers. Ever since the whole "Summerween Trickster" fiasco, Dipper had been wary of the town's strange holiday. He would never forget the scene of Soos eating that thing…ugh.

Stan was taking inventory, making sure nobody had nicked any of his moderately overpriced merchandise. His eyes eventually drifted over to his worrisome great-nephew. That kid would worry himself into the ground if Stan let him…

"Hey picks-a-lot, those cuticles taste good?" He walked over to the teen, flicking the bill of his hat. The older man didn't mean anything malicious by it. He's just unapologetically mean sometimes. Dipper was used to his Grunkle's antics, brushing the comment off.

Dipper tucked his hands in his jacket, looking down at the register. "Sorry Stan. Just thinking about…stuff." He hadn't realized he'd been biting his fingers again. It was an old habit, one he wasn't keen on picking back up. Yet there it was.

The uneasy expression on his face was barely hidden. Stan didn't really know what to do about the kid's nerves. Normally, he'd sick Mabel on him. The tween was out with Candy and Grenda, so that wasn't an option. What to do, what to do…

"Uh…look kid. You want the rest of your shift off? I've got the shop covered, and you look pretty dead." He gave it to the kid straight. Dipper looked like he was one loud noise away from snapping, his fraying nerves and general high-strung mindset on overdrive. Stan could handle the almost empty gift shop, Tuesdays were always slow.

Dipper nodded, hopping off the creaky cashier stool stool. "Yeah, please. Thanks, Grunkle Stan." He lumbered up the steps to the attic, gently closing the door to his shared room behind him.

What was Stan gonna do with that kid?

The next few days weren't any better. With the rapidly approaching local holiday, Dipper's nerves only grew. Mabel didn't really notice, too enamored by costume ideas and trying to figure out Waddles's measurements.

He didn't really know the absolute cause of his worry. Was it the chance of Mabel getting hurt? The possibility of another garbage candy monster? The fact that he still can't unsee Soos eating his way out of the monster? All are good guesses. He just wished he could pinpoint which one it was.

His antsy demeanor hadn't gone unnoticed by the other Mystery Shack residents. Soos had tried to get him to play some arcade games at the mall, but he just wasn't up for it. Wendy had little to no luck, her attempts to get him to loosen up going nowhere. It was up to Stan…and he had no idea what to do.

He had tried things that worked before, offering him an extra break and listening to his rants about the Journals. Dipper just wasn't up for infodumping at the moment, and he just got lost in thought on his breaks. On the morning of SummerWeen, Stan finally threw in the towel. He did the only thing he had left; asking Mabel what to do.

When he opened the door, Stan was met with Mabel trying to put a superhero suit on Waddles. She was dressed in similar attire, her cape dragging behind her. "Oh, hey Grunkle Stan! You come to see the best heros this side of the Falls kick some butt?"

Stan chuckled, shaking his head. He felt a bit bad for the pig, he doubted those tights were comfortable. Better Waddles than him, though. "Nah, I'll be quick. What should I do to get your brother to loosen up? Kid's been freakin' all week."

Mabel's eyes widened as he said this, her brain quickly piecing together the signs she hadn't noticed. "Crud…he has been anxious." She fidgeted with her hair, giving the pig a moment to nibble on his cape. "I normally talk him down, but if that hasn't worked…maybe make him laugh?"

Stan sighed as she said this. He considered himself a pretty funny guy, but his humor normally made Dipper groan or question his existence. Not the best for making Dipper laugh, though it always gets a chuckle out of himself

His thoughts wandered to the times he had made the kid snicker, landing on a few well-timed zings and one-liners. The last was when he had been messing around with Dipper in the gift shop. He poked his great-nephew's side, and he squealed. He hadn't done anything then, but now? Oh, it's perfect.

"Hey Mabel…your dorky brother is stupid ticklish, right?" She nodded, a smile slowly forming on her face as she figured out her Grunkle's intentions. Waddles nudged her arm, showing off the lovely slobber stain in his cape fabric. "Silly guy, now I gotta redo your cape! Grunkle Stan, do you think you can get Dipper to be less Dipper-ish by 6:30? Our costumes this year are super, heheh"

Stan rolled his eyes, his mischievous mind racing with ideas of how to get Dipper back to normal. Well, as normal as the tween gets. "Yeah, alright. If you hear girlish screaming, cheer me on." He shut the door behind him, leaving his grand-niece to her silliness. That kid never fails to make him smile.

Dipper was in the living room, a costume hung on the chair in front of him. Mabel's costume idea that summer was super heros, with him being the villain. It was actually kinda cool, with the utility belt of fake gadgets he and Mabel had put together. The only problem was him.

He was worried about putting the costume on. First off, it would mean going out and trick-or-treating with Mabel. Nothing's wrong with it, his brain was just telling him it's childish. There's also the fact that he's worried the Trickster might come back. Black licorice was bad enough before, but now he can't look at a stick without getting shivers. They very easily could've died.

Stan was creeping in the doorway, watching the tween's inner dilemma. If he wanted to be mean, he could've scared the crap out of him. But, showing a shocking amount of restraint, he knocked on the doorway. Stan walked over to him, ruffling the boy's hair. "Anybody home up there?"

Dipper, successfully snapped out of his daze, swatted at his Grunkle's hand. "Stan! Knock it off!" The older man chuckled, pulling his hand away and smirking down at the tween. That look…he knew that look. The look that meant Grunkle Stan was up to absolutely no good. "Stan…?"

He barely gave Dipper time to think before he snatched his great-nephew in his arms. It killed Stan's back, but it was worth it to hear the shocked yelp and protests from the kid. "Put me down! Stan- get off! Mabel!"

Stan flopped down in his recliner, holding Dipper in his lap. No help was coming for the boy. Mabel was in on it, as he quickly learned, and nobody else was at the Shack. It was just him, Stan, and the evil look on the older man's face as he wiggled his fingers. Crud.

"You worry too much, kid. You're gonna have more grays than me, and I put up with all'a you!" Those wiggling fingers were getting a bit too close to his stomach for comfort. Dipper squirmed, but with the way Stan held him, he was trapped. "Always thinkin' about these monsters and crazy creature things. You're so stuck in yer head, you didn't even notice the monster right in front of ya…"

He tazed Dipper's side, making him squeak at the unexpected touch. "Stahan, wait, plehehease-" He was so unbelievably screwed. "The TICKLE MONSTER!" Stan finally put his wiggling fingers on the boy's stomach, clawing and digging into the ticklish area.

Dipper squealed, shoving at his Grunkle's hands and writhing in his lap. His negative and anxious thoughts quickly faded to fuzzy, ticklish surprise. He hadn't expected this from Stan of all people. Mabel, absolutely, but Stan? He didn't really know how to react. "STAHAHAN! WHAHAHAT ARE YOUHU DOHOIHING?!"

"What's it feel like I'm doing, ya goofus? I'm tickling the snot outta ya. Now hold still." He spidered his fingers across his belly, making sure to get a few scratches in his belly button. "GEHEHET OFF! GRUHUNKLE STAHAHAN!"

Dipper kicked his legs, wishing the recliner was bigger. He barely had any room on Stan's lap, his legs nearly hanging off the armrest. Stan had him positioned so that his midsection was almost unprotectable, his arms practically pinned to his sides.

The tickling, as unexpected as it was, wasn't awful. He'd never tell the old man, but he was having a bit of fun. It was nice to let loose, to let his worrisome thoughts melt into giggles and squeaks.

The boy's laughter was, in Stan's eyes, adorable. It was nice to see the nervous kid laugh like that. Thinking of the night to come, he imagined the kids' costumes and candy-grab ideas. Candy...an evil idea bloomed in his mind. An evil, ticklish, awful idea. "I'm getting pretty hungry, Dipper. Might just have a quick snack…" He pulled up Dipper's shirt, waiting for the teen to catch on.

And catch on he did.

"Stahahan- Stan don't! Nonononoho!" Dipper's eyes went wide when he figured out Stan's plan. There's no way he could handle those. The tween desperately tried to get away, kicking out and trying to grab his Grunkle's hands.

His Grunkle easily pinned Dipper's hands, smirking down at him. It was almost too easy. Stan lowered his head, nibbling on his great-nephew's poor belly.

Dipper shrieked.

"NAHAHAHA! GRUHUNKLE STAHAHA- STAHAHAP!" He tossed his head back, kicking and thrashing under the ticklish nibbles. Stan's old man stubble wasn't helping. The scratchy texture made it so much worse.

Stan was enjoying himself. Hearing the kid's laughter reminded him of the stupid things he and his brother would do as kids, the fun they'd have. Before it all went south, they'd do this all the time. The best part was that he knew Dipper didn't mind it.

Just to be a jerk, he started making little "nom" noises as he nibbled the boy's stomach. Dipper twisted and shoved at his head, but Stan wouldn't budge. The tween resisted the urge to hit at Stan's head, instead gripping his silver hair. He didn't tug, but just grabbed on, needing something to do with his hands.

The nibbles traveled across his midsection, going from his stomach to his ribs, then back down to his belly button. Dipper was in stitches, the simple action reducing him to a cackling mess. He could barely think, his mind reeling at the assault on his nervous system. It wasn't bad, but it was mean.

Dipper managed to last for another two minutes before reaching his limit. The boy's laughter had taken on a breathy edge, his thrashing slowed with exhaustion. He patted the top of his Grunkle's head, tapping out.

Just like that, the torturous sensations stopped. Stan chuckled, raising his head and rubbing his great-nephew's midsection to try and ease the phantom tickles. Dipper curled into himself as he giggled out the leftover buzz. "Youhuhu…you suhuck…"

That got him a poke to the side. "Watch it, giggles." And Dipper, not having much of a choice, giggled. Stan let him go with a knowing smirk. The tween quickly slid off his lap, rubbing his sides. The clock read 5:30, just in time for him to get ready. "Your sister wants you dressed in an hour. Don't be late."

He left the room, leaving Dipper alone with his costume. Stan knew it wasn't a permanent fix. The boy was always stressing about something. He just hoped that the playful moment eased his worries for the night. Those kids deserve a good night.

The tween looked over at the suit, a small smile still on his face. The negative thoughts from before were gone, replaced with a light and happy feeling. He picked up the dark fabric, sliding the mask on over his red face. Maybe the night wouldn't be so bad after all…

#day 12 #gf tickle #lee!dipper #ticklish!dipper #ler!stan #ler!stanley #augtickletober2022 #sfw tickling community #tickle fic #tickle #gravity falls tickle #gravity falls #gf dipper #gf stanley #stanley pines #gravity falls fic

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ficthots · 2 years

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4 Times Peter Said I Love You + 1 Time You Said It Back

A/N: Warnings will be added to this one due to smut and violence. However, I’ve been working on this one for awhile and I love it and I hope you guys do. As always let me know what you guys think and enjoy!

Warnings: Smut, 18+ content, DNI if you are under 18! Depictions of violence.

Word Count: 7.4k+

one

The -ber months were the best of the year and no one can argue with that. September meant the crisp air was starting to make its return, October was spooky season, November was stuffing your face with Aunt May’s delectable spread, and December was Christmas. Nothing beat the -ber months.

You sat on the porch steps of Aunt May’s house, a bowl of candy sitting on your lap as you handed out candy to the neighborhood kids. You had picked your costume out specifically for your best friend this year. May had about fallen over in laughter when she saw you walk out of Peter’s old bedroom.

He was supposed to be here over an hour ago, but you and May had been having a blast as you watched the streets become more flooded with kids and parents, begging for candy. The house was decked out with decorations, the lawn filled with an ominous fog and a strobe light, plus faux spider webs along the porch railing that Peter insisted on having. The entire neighborhood had gone in together this year and it looked amazing.

You knew why Peter was late, it had been on the news. Some massive robbery was happening downtown and who else would be there to take care of it other than Spider-Man? You just hoped he would be okay. Whenever his responsibilities came up, it made your heart clench.

Love is a strong word. One that you aren’t entirely comfortable with using. Did you say you loved things? Sure, all the time. You loved when a towel was still warm after being in the dryer. You loved when it rained so hard it looked like mist in the air. You loved the sound of Christmas music playing in department stores during the holidays. But using it towards people was an awkward experience for you.

You said it to May, the woman who had been a second mother to you since middle school, every time you saw her. You said it to Ben occasionally growing up. You said it to your mom whenever you hung up the phone. But it never came out naturally like how you hoped it would. Especially to Peter.

Feelings and Peter went hand in hand in your world. You had been in love with the dorky boy since you had first met him in sixth grade when he stood up to a bully for you when they took your puppy dog notebook that you had begged your mom for and threw it in the garbage, spilling rotten food all over it.

He had been your hero that day and every day since. You were the first person he told about Spider-Man because he had no idea what to do and was in a full blown panic in your room. Your mom had come up the stairs after hearing talking and your eyes just about bugged out of your head when he jumped onto the ceiling and stayed there until she left.

Years later you were still as close as ever and your feelings had only grown, but Peter didn’t see you that way. No, in his eyes you were the shadow he had been stuck with since sixth grade. He would never put it that way to you, unless you pissed him off, but he loved you as a friend. His best friend, as he always liked to remind you, no matter how much it twisted the knife in your gut whenever he said it.

He knew how to handle every problem you threw his way, even when it was something new. He was the smartest person you knew and you felt comfortable going to him with your issues. Peter wouldn’t have it any other way for his best friend.

You could handle being the best friend. It meant that you got to spend time with him whenever you wanted, that you would be a constant in his life no matter what. You had made your peace with that your freshman year of college as you watched Peter blossom. He had come out of his shell, becoming a much more confident figure and you loved that for him.

“We’re almost out of candy. I’m gonna go grab another bag,” you stood from your spot on the porch, handing the bowl to May and heard the costume's plastic rub together as you walked. May’s voice called out your name as you grabbed another bag from the stash in the living room and as you walked out, you peeked out the curtain and saw him there.

His hair was slicked back, some black spray on dye in his hair. His face was painted white and had fake blood around the corners of his mouth or what you hoped was fake blood. His long black cloak popped up at the neck, and the frilly shirt with the puffiest sleeves suited him more than you would like to admit.

You quickly grabbed the mask that was by the front door and slipped it on, trying to hold in your laughter as you did. You opened the door and Peter’s arm went up, covering half his face with the cloak, but before he could start his spiel as Dracula his eyes went wide, the black eye makeup hiding his honey-wheat eyes.

He doubled over, grabbing the porch banister as his laughter boomed, May wiping tears from her eyes at the sight before her. “Your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, here to help,” you tried your best to mimic his voice, but failed as the giggles weaved into your words.

“I need a picture of this. Please, do the pose, please!” Peter grabbed his phone and snapped a picture of you as you crouched down into his signature pose, the mask askew, the fake muscle making it difficult to move and squeaking as you attempted to mimic him. May continued handing out candy to the kids as you and Peter laughed about each other's costumes, him more than you.

Peter had taken over helping you hand out candy, letting May head to bed after a long shift at the hospital that day. You took the mask off, gasping for air afterwards, hair standing in a million different directions. “How can you breathe in this thing?” He took the mask from you and put it on over his head and looked around and laughed as he did.

“I can’t see fucking shit out of this thing,” you snorted, handing out a handful of candy to a Winnie the Pooh that walked by. He ripped the mask off, tossing it onto the porch behind you both and took the real one out of his backpack, pulling it onto your head.

It was far too big, hanging loosely around the jaw and neck as you looked at the boy next to you who was fighting another fit of laughter at the sight. “God damn, Peter. Your head is massive,” he clutched at his stomach as you jumped up, doing what could only be described as shitty parkour, trying to mime the moves you had seen him do more than once.

You were out of breath at the end as you hopped off the porch railing. Plopping down next to him, Peter pulled the mask off from your head and wrapped his arm around your neck, pulling you towards him. His lips landed on your temple as he handed out more candy to kids. “God, I love you.”

Butterflies erupted in your stomach as your face burned. The spot where Peter’s lips had landed tingled and you had to fight every urge to touch it. He meant as a friend. Of course he did. Peter loved you as a friend.

You pushed the thoughts to the back of your mind as the pizza delivery guy stood in front of you and you ran to grab your bag to tip him. Peter took the pizza and handed you a slice as he bit into his, throwing his head back and demolishing it in three bites before going in for another slice.

Instinctively, your thumb came to his cheek and wiped the stray sauce away as you smirked at him. “Happy Halloween, Dracula.”

two

You were sloshed. It was a Friday night and that week at work had been hell. Peter stood in your kitchen, dancing around in his socks as he grabbed another beer. You had been drinking Jack and Monsters and two of them had you drunk.

“Okay and get this. That promotion I was up for? You-ya remember that right? I told you ‘bout it like, I dunno three weeks ago. They got rid of the position! Bye-bye promotion. It’s like why the hell do I even try?” Peter stood at the island, eyes gleaming as he watched you, head upside down over the arm of the couch, telling him about your week.

It took a lot to get Peter drunk and while he was most definitely buzzed, he was nowhere near as gone as you were. He had a smirk taking over his plump lips as he watched you try to form actual sentences, your words slurring together.

He knew you were warm from the drinks, but you sat up and pulled your sweater off, leaving you only in the slip you had worn under your dress that day and he felt like he needed to look away, but he couldn’t bring himself to. You stood up and walked into the kitchen, going to make yourself another drink and he shook his head as you attempted to.

“How about water instead?” you pouted and it took every bit of self restraint he had not to kiss the pout away from your lips. “You’re no fun,” your self inhibitions had all but diminished and you didn’t realize how close you were standing to Peter. All you had to do was look up just a tiny bit and your lips would have connected.

His eyes moved between yours and your lips, wanting to make the move so bad, letting the buzz cloud over his rational thoughts. Maybe he was more drunk than he thought. You knew he was, his skin was tinted pink which it always did when he had a bit too much to drink.

Peter rested his forehead against yours and you tilted your head back a bit, letting your lips brush against his for a split second, just wanting to see how it would feel. Your eyes had fluttered shut, Peter took in a shaky breath as he watched you. Your lips slightly parted and your eyelashes touched your cheekbones. It felt like you had been electrocuted, your lips ached to do it again.

His hand landed on your jaw, kissing you again with more force. You wrapped your arms around his neck, lacing your fingers in his chestnut locks, pulling him even closer. His tongue swept across your bottom lip, begging for entry. When your lips parted, his taste flooded your senses.

The cinnamon gun he had been chewing earlier had some remnants, the beer and its nutty aftertaste poured onto your tastebuds, and a flavor that was distinctly Peter had a small whimper leave your throat. His hands had a firm grip on your hips, the silk felt cool under his fingertips as he slowly inched the fabric up.

His hands went to the undersides of your thighs, lifting you with absolute ease. Your legs locked around his waist instinctively. He started moving you both towards your room, gently laying you down on the unmade, messy comforter and sheets, lips never parting until he quickly pulled back, almost ripping his sweater off as you worked on his sweats.

Those damn gray sweats that left nothing to the imagination, even with his boxer briefs acting as the barrier. His finger tilted your chin up, locking eyes as he spoke. “Are you sure you wanna do this, baby?” You nodded eagerly, not wanting to let on how badly you wanted this. How often you thought about this exact scenario happening. That you had touched yourself more than once to the thought of Peter, imagining it was his hands, not yours.

His lips captured yours again, his hands bunching up the dress, removing it from your body. He faltered momentarily, eyes glancing at your bare chest, a strangled moan erupting from his throat at the sight. Light butterfly kisses littered your skin as he moved down your neck, across the tops of your breasts, in the valley between them before his hands cupped them.

Your breathing was ragged as you watched him, his lips wrapped around a nipple as your head fell back against the pillows. Your breathing all but stopped at the feeling. His fingers pinched and rolled the other before switching.

Your fingers pulled at his hair, forcing him to come back to you, tongues fighting for dominance. You pushed Peter onto his back, his eyes widening as you crouched between his legs.

His chest rose and fell rapidly as you moved the briefs down, his cock coming free. His head was weeping with precum as you took him in your hand for the first time. Your thumb swept at the slit, using it as lube as you gently brought your hand down his length.

His eyes slipped shut as you reached the base, a small groan falling from his swollen lips. You watched him in awe, taking him in in a way you hadn’t before.

His jaw was straining, adam's apple bobbing, eyes clenched shut, veins in his neck popping, and a flush color painted his skin. You were curious to see what would happen if you made a sudden move.

You moved the tip of your tongue towards him, tracing the slit on him. His taste exploded in your mouth, instantly watering in response. A shaky breath that faded to an embarrassed chuckle before turning into a moan left him as his eyes watched you.

Your hand slowly pumped him, your tongue flattening on the underside of his shaft. His lips were parted, his tongue darting out to moisten them. Your eyes never left him, wanting to memorize this. Him.

When you reached his head again you pulled back only a couple inches, hearing a whimper leave the flustered boy below you. His knuckles were stark white as he gripped the comforter underneath him.

You spit on him, not that he needed the aid, but out of eagerness at his response. His eyes widened, jaw clicking as he tried to hold in whatever noise threatened to spill out.

You shook your head at him, moving back towards his cock, hand still moving achingly slow, grip never changing or loosening. “I wanna hear you, Peter,” the tension in his jaw released as you took him in your mouth.

You took him to the hilt on the first bob, relaxing your jaw and breathing through your nose, letting him hit the back of your throat. “Oh my god. Holy fuck,” you smirked to yourself at his moan, continuing the motion. His moans filled the room as did the lewd noises of you sucking him until his hands went to your hair.

Quickly releasing him from your mouth, you slapped his hands away. “No touching. I don’t need a guide and if you try again I won’t let you cum,” he swallowed nervously, his dick twitching at your words, nodding his head in response.

You pumped him again and kissed him chastly. “Good boy,” the praise had him moaning, his hands going back to the blanket, gripping like his life depended on it.

Taking him back in your mouth, you felt like you had become an addict. You knew you would never get enough of Peter Parker again. He was going to become an insatiable habit that you didn’t want to kick.

You pulled off, moving up to straddle him, feeling his achingly hard cock rub against your soaking core. You saw his eyes lock on your cunt, waiting to see himself sink into you.

Your clit was swollen after being neglected, but you didn’t want to touch yourself, only wanting to feel him enter you for the first time. You took him in your hand, gliding him into your heat. You could’ve cum from that feeling alone, your lids fluttering shut at the pleasure coursing through you.

Peter’s cries echoed against the walls, hips snapping up into yours. Your hands braced themselves on his chest, shaking your head at him.

“I didn’t tell you to move. Wait until I tell you,” the words were breathless as they escaped your lips. You grabbed his hands and gently guided one to your hip.

You took the other, moving it to your opening where he sat inside you. You let his fingers brush against where you joined together. His thumb moved towards your swollen nub, eliciting a gasp from you. Your head rolled back, exposing the expanse of your bare neck.

Peter committed every one of your movements to his memory. In complete wonderment at how you moved, taking control of this exchange. You leisurely moved your hips, shifting him inside you.

He almost came at the act, over sensitivity wracking him as you used him. You made the motion again, a whine leaving you. You continued the passive operation and Peter could feel himself coming apart as you whispered praises for him into the space between you both.

Peter didn’t move once, letting you drag your hips in the way you wanted, your velvet walls throbbing around him. He had never felt like this before and it was taking every ounce of self restraint to not finish.

Your moans caused goosebumps to erupt over his skin, never having heard a prettier sound before. If he could, he would listen to it all day.

It was what tipped him over, spilling into you, arms enclosing around you and crushing you to his chest as he rode his high.

You tsked at him, looking down at the boy whose skin was incredibly warm to the touch. “Did I say you could cum?” He opened his eyes, seeing your lust heavy lids cover most of your gaze.

Apologies tumbled from him as you sighed, pulling off of his length and moving further up him, your knees landing on either side of his head.

Your fingers tangled in his locks and his gaze fell to your leaking pussy, his seed dripping from your hole, mixing with your own arousal as it fell out.

“Make me cum. Be a good boy and make me cum,” Peter’s hands pulled you down before you finished talking. His eyes rolled back as he ran a stripe up your folds, gently sucking on your clit. “Holy shit, fuck. Petey,” your praises spurred him on as you began writhing on top of him.

You thrust your hips back and forth, feeling Peter’s bruising grip on your thighs, pulling you even closer to him. It took no time at all before you came undone on his face. Your grip loosened on his hair, Peter’s mouth continuing to work you through the aftermath of the best orgasm you’d ever had.

Slowly moving from your best friend's face, he had a shit eating grin plastered on his features. His chin and lips were glistening with your juice. You fell on the mattress next to him as he grabbed you, wrapping you up into him, a lazy kiss shared between you two.

He got up, leaving the space next to you empty, taking his warmth and comfort with him. Your eyes slipped shut, but reopened when you felt a warm washcloth press against you.

Peter had slipped back into his sweats, but he peppered kisses against your bare thighs, hips, and one quick peck to your over sensitive nub. He chuckled as you flinched at his kisses, handing you your discarded clothes.

His arms wrapped around you, securing you to his chest as your breathing evened out. His fingers played with your hair, a breathless laugh leaving him as he spoke while you began to fall asleep.

“You’re literally perfect. I love you, babe,” his lips landed on your hairline, but you were fast asleep by the time he finished.

three

You had seen Peter almost every night since your drunken rendezvous. Every night had ended up with you two sleeping together. He had come in as Spider-Man one night and didn’t even finish taking the suit off before he was in you.

Yet the relationship hadn’t shifted in the slightest. You just felt like you knew him better. The feelings that you had been grappling with for years were becoming almost unmanageable.

Peter was the person who you’d had feelings for since sixth grade and you hadn’t acted on them for a reason. What you had with him was fragile. A new aspect, a new branch, had been added to the complicated web, no pun intended, intricacies of your relationship. You didn’t want to rock the boat because with your luck you would capsize it and drown on the way down and you couldn’t lose Peter like that. He was the stability in your life and had been for about as long as you could remember.

Your thoughts ran through your mind as you checked your texts and saw a message from Peter, an image of your apartment and a text following with a quite lascivious description of what was waiting for you at home.

You giggled, starting to type a response when a hand clamped over your mouth, an arm enclosing around your torso and throwing you into an alley onto the filthy ground. The pain from the fall was nothing compared to the broken glass you landed in, feeling it slice your hands and cheek clean open.

“Give us your purse and you won’t get hurt,” you tossed your bag at the pair of guys, just praying they’d leave you alone if you gave them what they wanted.

The two rifled through your bag, but couldn’t find your wallet. A steel toed boot made impact with your stomach, a scream falling from you. “Where the fuck is your wallet, bitch?” Your eyes watered as a fist connected with your jaw, blood splattering from your mouth onto the grime below you.

You realized you had left it at home on your counter this morning. You and Peter had ordered takeout last night and you had removed it from your purse to tip the delivery boy and forgot to put it back in your bag. You were in a rush this morning, trying to not be late.

Another blinding blow landed on your left eye, it immediately swelled and dwindled your vision. You felt the two continue the assault, but let your mind wander to other thoughts, trying to take away from the reality of what was happening, and the pain that you had never imagined feeling that took you in its grips, not releasing, but only getting worse.

You weren’t sure how long they had been attacking you, but by the time they had finished you were unrecognizable. Blood poured down onto the murky ground below you. Each breath was agonizing as you forced yourself to move to grab your phone.

It was shattered, but the half typed message sat on your screen. “Hey siri, call Spidey and put it on speaker,” you choked out, cries flowing from you mixed with painful grunts and noises you weren’t sure were coming from you. You spit blood out of your mouth as his sweet, excited voice rang through the speaker into the alley.

“You know I don’t mind you working late, but it is just rude to leave-” you cut off his joking tone, a strangled and windless gasp leaving you as a new pain shot through you. “Peter. Help. I need help,” he had frozen as he heard your voice, his spidey-senses going haywire.

“Baby, where are you? How bad are you hurt? Where are you?” It felt like the wind continuously knocked out of you with every excruciating breath you took. “Work. Alley by work,” was all you could manage as you sobbed, the pain taking over every thought that riddled you.

He was talking, but no words were registering as mangled cries and sobs wracked you. Hands landed on you and you screamed, trying to move away from them.

“It’s me, it’s me, baby! It’s me,” your gaze went to him, one eye looking over the features that you knew by heart. Peter thought he would pass out from the rage that coursed through him at the sight of you.

The wail that came from you, crushed Peter. His arms wrapped around you, tugging you into his comforting embrace. You clutched at his shirt, terrified to let go. He whispered soothing words as your tears and blood stained his clothing.

May was working that night and when she heard she was asked for, she ran to the emergency room. You looked worse under the fluorescent lights. Every scratch, bruise, and gash visible.

She gasped, hand covering her mouth as she took in the sight before her. Your hand gripped Peter’s as he sat next to the bed, the nurse working to stitch the last cut on your cheek.

Your chin wobbled as May approached you, Peter fighting the urge to leave and hunt down whoever had done this to you. “Oh, sweetheart,” you whimpered at her words, Peter’s eyes squeezing shut at the pained cry, anger taking over his every thought.

You recanted your story to her as her eyes watered, Peter standing and leaving the room, not able to hear it again. He had been in the room as you told the police, giving vivid descriptions of the two men who had done this and you could tell he was burning it into his memory. She patted your bruised hand and went out to the hallway where he stood, hunched over, tears threatening to spill.

“Peter,” he looked at his aunt, eyes wild and breathing hard and short. “I’m gonna kill them, May. I’m gonna hunt them down and kill ‘em,” she stopped his pacing, hands going to his shoulders, forcing him to look at her.

“Listen to me. I know you’re angry. I know that. I’m angry too, but right now she is hurt and she is scared. You need to go in there, hold her hand, and show her she is safe. We will deal with the rest later,” as she talked, her tone firm to reach him, your shaky voice called out his name.

His head snapped to the door and nodded at his aunt's words. “Go on. Go. I need to talk to her doctor,” he hurried into the room, seeing your worried glance directed towards him.

He took your hand in both of his as he sat down, bringing your hand to his lips. “I’m here, bug. I’m here,” his hand pushed the hair off your forehead, offering a pained smile.

The doctor released you that night and Peter took you home, helping you get into bed. You both laid there in silence for a bit before he kissed the crown of your head. The pills helped you fall asleep, Peter’s tight grip comforting as you drifted off into a painful sleep.

All you wanted to do was say thank you and how much you loved him, but you grappled with your thoughts and couldn’t bring yourself to say them, knowing the repercussions could be too much to deal with.

When you woke up the next morning, Peter was still with you. You went through your morning routine together, turning the tv on in the living room as you sat down, Peter going to make you a smoothie so it would be easier to eat, not having to move your jaw.

“It seems as though Spider-Man had his mind set on vengeance last night. These two, originally unidentified men, were found early this morning, hanging from the Queensborough bridge, strung up by their hands. They were only hanging from the famous webs, their mouths webbed shut as well. They both had notes taped to their chests listing a string of crimes that these men had been tied to, including a vicious mugging that took place just last night resulting in the victim to be hospitalized, but was released in stable condition. Spider-Man saves the day, yet again, but now people are beginning to question his seemingly dark ways,” you stared at the news playing in front of you, muting it as she continued, critiquing the hero who had saved more lives than could be counted.

The two men who had robbed you and brutally beaten you were both strung up on the bridge, hanging only by their hands webbed to the underside of the bridge. Peter stood behind you as your eyes watered, his voice whispering into your ear.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I should’ve been there and I wasn’t. I knew something was wrong when you didn’t respond. I should’ve gone,” you shook your head, turning around on the couch, wrapping your arms around his neck and hugging him, pushing your head into his neck as his arms wrapped around you.

“Stop. You’ve done more than enough, Peter. You wouldn’t have known where I was. You had no idea,” he kissed your forehead, dodging a bruise and cut at your response. “I love you. I will always take care of you. Your smoothies ready, c’mon,” your heart soared and fluttered at his words, not able to respond as he grabbed your hand, taking you into the kitchen.

You sipped the smoothie, letting it easily come into your mouth, not having to do as much work. “Peter, this is just ice cream and milk. You made me a milkshake for breakfast.”

four

It had been weeks since the attack and your bruises had almost completely faded, your stitches had come out the second week. You felt almost completely back to normal, still a tad bit sore, but otherwise okay.

You checked the clock and saw it said just past five in the afternoon. You hadn’t seen Peter in two days and you were having withdrawals from him. Despite your injuries, you didn’t let it slow you both down. Peter was scared shitless to touch you the first time after the attack, but you assured him you were fine. That you needed him and trusted him.

His worries quickly faded as you domineered that night. You stopped at his favorite pizza place on the way to his apartment, opting to surprise your favorite boy with food and drink. His favorite things, despite you. Your love language was acts of service and you knew he would be over the moon with this delivery.

When you arrived at his apartment with your hands full, you kicked at the door. “Peter!” You heard shuffling and the door peeled open, Peter stood with his eyes rimmed red and deep bags under them, still adorning his Spider-Man suit.

“What the hell happened? Are you alright?” You pushed past him, setting the pizza box and beer on the counter as you dropped your bag to the floor, turning around and letting your hands go to his cheeks, observing him to see if he was injured.

He pulled you to him, capturing your lips and moaning at your taste. “God, I’ve missed you. I’m sorry, bug. I haven’t slept in two days. Between work and Spidey I haven’t been around,” you hushed him by taking his bottom lip between yours.

“Go shower, we’ll eat, and then you’re going to bed,” he groaned as you moved from him, hands pawing at you. “Shower with me,” you narrowed your eyes at him and hummed as his lips moved to your neck. “Please? Pretty please? I’ve missed you so much. I’ve been without you for forty-eight hours. I feel like I’m gonna die, baby. Please?” you giggled as his lips moved across your throat as he spoke, a whiny tone lacing through his words.

You sighed and pulled his head up, gazes locking. “Fine. Only cause you asked so nicely,” a victorious smile took over his face as he pulled you to the bathroom with him. You helped him get the suit off, having him enter the shower first as you removed your clothes, stepping into the warm spray of water.

His arms wrapped around you from behind, his fingers dancing over your ribs, lips moving on your shoulder and neck. A content sigh left you, feeling happier than ever when you were with your boy. He smirked as you stepped just a tiny bit backwards, feeling his hard-on press into your ass.

Peter wasted no time, lifting your leg with one hand and setting your foot on the shower built-ins, his dick running between your folds. “Pete, wait. I can’t get my hair wet,” he groaned, pulling it back with a free hand as your breathless response irritated him.

“I have shampoo here that you can use,” he slowly slipped into you as he talked, feeling your gummy walls accept him without restriction. “Ah-Peter, that’s-that’s not what I, fuck, meant,” you could feel how deep he sat in you, having your leg up allowed him to get an entirely new section of you.

Your toes sat pointed on the shower wall built-in as he pulled back and thrusted into you with an earth shattering force. The wind knocked out of you and you were seeing stars. The steam from the shower filled the bathroom as he pounded into you, one of his hands having a death grip on your hip and the other resting on your shoulder.

Your hair was long forgotten, being positively drenched and you would yell at him after, but when his fingers wrapped around your thigh, dipping in between your legs and began rubbing small circles on your clit, you came quickly.

His arms held you up, your back straight against his chest as he continued fucking into you, harder than before as he chased his own high, murmuring sweet praises to you about how good you were doing for him. Your walls fluttered around him as he rode you through your orgasm, his hips crashed into yours once more as he came in you.

He was out of breath, but he turned you around to face him and he looked at the inside of your thigh, seeing his cum drip in a steady stream. He kissed your collarbones and grabbed your hair with his hand and laughed. “I’m sorry about your hair,” you rolled your eyes as you grabbed his shampoo and squeezed it into your palm.

“Are you really, though?” He shook his head, arms wrapping around you again as you began lathering it into your hair. “Hmm, no. Not at all,” his lips kissed along your shoulder blades, you could feel his smirk as he did and you sighed, letting him do whatever he wanted.

Your feet sat in Peter’s lap, your hair wrapped in a towel, sitting in one of Peter’s old shirts as you ate pizza. The shirt hardly covered anything which Peter loved, but you had slipped your panties back on once exiting the shower, much to his dismay.

His head rested on the back of the couch, his hairs wet droplets dripping onto the material as his eyes slipped closed as he ate almost the entire pizza. Your fingers danced through his hair, lightly massaging his scalp. He sighed, hand rubbing on your bare thigh.

You stood up, shutting the apartment down for the night as he watched you move around the space expertly. He smiled to himself, seeing how well you fit in here with him. How much he loved seeing you in his space like it was yours. Because to him it was yours. It had been yours since sixth grade when you first met. He had been yours since you were twelve.

Sure, he had dated around a bit, but not because he really wanted to. You had dated around and he didn’t want you to think he was waiting around for you. In reality, he was. He would always wait for you because he was yours. He just wanted you to figure it out. My god, he had said he loved you and you just hadn’t caught on. He chuckled at how utterly clueless you could be and how much he loved it. Peter knew about your difficulties with love and what it meant and he could wait. He would continue to wait until you were ready.

You heard him laugh and you eyed him, letting the towel fall to the floor, your hair coming loose from its grasp. “What’s so funny?” He grabbed your hand, pulling you onto his lap and shrugged. “Nothin’. You’re pretty that’s all,” your face burned at that, taking his jaw in your hand, connecting your lips together in a sleepy kiss.

He stood you both up, carrying you to his room bridal style. It would never fail to amaze you at how easy he was able to carry you. The man did lift cars and bridges and the occasional building from collapsing, but you weren’t used to it. At all. And he loved seeing how happy it made you and he swore to himself he would do it until the day he died as long as he got to see that dopey smile take over your face.

You took your side of the bed, wiggling under the covers as Peter took the space next to you, a loud sigh leaving him as he quickly felt sleep taking him over. You snuggled into his side, letting his arm wrap around you, his hand tucking your head into his neck.

He mumbled out before he fell asleep, pulling you from sleep's grasp as he did. “Thank you for taking care of me. Love you,” you kissed his neck and went to whisper, but he shushed you loudly. “I’m trying to sleep, ma’am. Please let me,” you smacked his chest, rolling away from him, but he groaned.

“No, no, no. Come back,” his arms wrapped around you from behind, spooning you until you both fell asleep.

You had told Peter you weren’t able to get together tonight because you had a work project that you absolutely had to get done tonight. You had developed the problem of anxiety induced insomnia your junior year of high school. When your anxiety got to be too much, you wouldn’t be able to sleep.

Your record had been three and a half days without sleep and when you told Peter he vowed to help you figure it out. You two had tested the waters for years, trying multiple different combinations of things that would eventually help you sleep. It had only been two years since the perfect concoction had been found.

Luckily, you hardly ever had to use it. Maybe once or twice a year tops and now that you knew the signs, you were able to stop it before it got too bad. However, this was the worst case you had had in years.

You were beginning to run for three days and you were still trying to push through work. You submitted the assignment, happiness and relief coursing through you as you finished. Your eyes roamed to the top of your screen and saw it was past one in the morning.

Dragging yourself to bed, you thought sleep was going to take you easy. It didn’t. You were on the verge of tears, over tired not even beginning to explain how you were feeling. When you checked your phone it read 2:52 am.

You knocked on the door in front of you multiple times until it finally opened, revealing a sleep riddled Peter. His eyes took you in, seeing the angry tears forming in your eyes. Your hair was a mess, you were in pajamas with a large coat over you, and you wrapped your arms around his shirtless torso.

He closed the door behind you, hands tilting your head up to look at you. His hair was an absolute mess, his eyes sleep heavy as he tried to blink to see you clearly in the dark room, the only light from above the stove.

“How long have you been up, bug?” You sniffled and put your head back against his chest. “Three days,” he nodded his head and brought you to his room, taking your coat off and having you lay down. The light streamed in from his bedroom window and you groaned, growing more angry and upset as the minutes passed by.

He came back into the room, a small cup of water and a bottle of pills in his hand. “Bug, I need you to take this for me. Can you do that?” You nodded your head as you held the vile tasting pill in between your teeth, forcing it down with the entire glass of water.

Peter came back to the room with a clip in his hand and two push pins. He clipped the curtains shut, pinning the sides to the wall so no excess light could get into the room. He pulled an extra fan out of the closet, plugging it in and facing it at the bed. Peter grabbed his phone and turned his small speaker on in his room.

The sounds of “Frosty the Snowman” from the Christmas Piano! record lightly played in the background. He shut the door and pulled the covers off of you, removing your sweats and sweatshirt, knowing that if you kept them on you would feel like you were trapped in bed, your mind playing tricks on you after being awake for so long.

Your overtired, frustrated tears all but stopped as he took his spot next to you. He sighed, rubbing lightly circles on your back and arm. He hated when you got like this. When your brain wouldn’t let you rest, it wouldn't shut off on its own. It couldn’t shut off on its own.

But he felt a sense of pride that you went to him for this. That you knew he could get you to sleep. He remembered all of the different trials that had failed as he tried to figure out what was going to get you to stop and rest. When you were exhausted you grew mad with yourself for not being able to get yourself down, but Peter knew he could and he did.

The night when he had figured out the code he wanted to jump for joy. Okay, maybe he did a little. Each time he did it after, it went quicker. The fastest you had ever fallen asleep after he worked his magic was eleven minutes and he was elated as you fell asleep.

You whispered out into the room as you laid with him. “Peter?” He hummed and let his hand go to your hair, scratching your scalp. “Yeah, bug?” You sighed and he felt tears on his neck, worry filling his senses as he pulled your head back to look at you.

His thumbs swept at the tears. “What’s wrong, baby?” You leaned up and kissed him, hearing the relief flow from him at your motion. “I love you so much. You take such good care of me. I love you, Peter,” he wanted to cry from the sheer happiness he felt in that moment. It was the first time in the years since he had known you that those words had come from you.

He kissed you deeper, laughing as he left kisses all over your face. “God, I’ve been waiting since we were twelve to hear those words!” You felt an immense tidal wave of guilt crash over you as you looked at him, his free hand rubbing over his face.

“I’m so sorry, Peter. I don’t know why I can’t say it more. It just doesn’t come easy to me, but I love you and I have for a very long time. I’m sorry,” he shushed you as he pushed your head back down, seeing your eyes getting heavy.

“We’ll talk about it more in the morning, bug. You need to go to sleep. I love you,” you pecked his lips as he finished talking. “I love you, too, Petey,” your words were slurring together as you let your eyes close, listening to Frosty the Snowman play in the background, happier than ever with Peter by your side.

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pink-bandana-writes · 1 year

Text

Candy Cane Stripes

Raphael x Reader

Summary: On a chilly day in New York, you head to the lair to show off your sparkly red holiday nails…

Note: Well, here we go, first fic on the new blog. I’ve been cleaning out my room, going through my stuff and this just…felt right. I think I needed a fresh start here. Consider this my new era. The turtles are in their 20s in this.

Warnings: None?

Word Count: 1.5k

Reader Is: Female

It was a chilly, New York winter day and you were down in the lair, desperate to warm up after having walked through the snow and ice to get there. Donnie had set up the heating system down there pretty well, managing to keep heat in their living space despite the obvious draftiness of the sewers.

You had brought some winter supplies for the boys, namely, hot cocoa ingredients, some wintry mugs, and all of your favorite holiday movies on DVD. You were wrapped up in one of the scarves Raph had knitted for you, red and white candy cane stripes. It matched the nails you’d just gotten done a few days before, to commemorate the beginning of the holiday season.

Leo and Mikey greeted you when you entered, Mikey playing his video games on the TV and Leo reading something in his spot on the couch. Donnie was in the lab, as usual, and Raph was working out. You could tell by the steady clinking of his weights in the distance. You couldn’t help but blush a little, thinking of the big, strong turtle.

You’d been friends with the turtles since you were in high school and they were teens. Now, you were all in your early twenties, you’d finished college and were working basically full time at a game store downtown, which meant you were always able to get gaming equipment and games for them with your generous employee discount. Lately, you were trying to figure out the rest of your life, and if you were being honest…you wanted Raph, and the rest of his brothers, for that matter, to be a part of it.

Once you got comfortable, you pulled out your cocoa ingredients, pouring a mug of milk and cocoa mix, squirting in lots of chocolate syrup before giving it a good stir and sticking it into the microwave. You readied a can of whipped cream, squirting some in your mouth, only to come face to face with the turtle in the red bandana himself.

“Oop.” You mumbled, eating the whipped cream. “Hello.”

“What’cha up to, shorty?” He asked, giving your head a playful shove.

“Hot cocoa. You want some?” You held up an empty mug, wiggling it around temptingly.

He grinned. “I could be convinced.”

You mixed together another mug full of cocoa and swapped it for yours in the microwave. You turned to grab the whipped cream, but Raphael had it, doing the exact same thing you had just been doing. You giggled. “Hey!”

“One sec.” He said, holding up a large finger and taking another hit of whipped cream before handing it back to you.

You shook your head, chuckling as you sprayed a spiral of whipped cream on top of your drink, nursing it in your hands as you took your first tentative sip. It was then that Raph finally noticed the sparkling red color of your nails, accompanied your candy cane accent nails. He stared for a long moment before you looked up, catching him.

“What’s that look for, big guy?”

“Huh?” He met your eyes. “Oh, nothin’, nothin’.”

You took a sip of cocoa and set it on the counter, holding out your hands so he could get a closer look at them, taking each of your human hands in his much, much bigger ones. Raph admired your little fingers, the way the red polish glittered in the light as he moved them ever so slightly.

“When’d ya get these done?”

“This week. Thought they would be nice for the holidays and all that.” You shrugged. “Plus, red happens to be one of my favorite colors.”

He smirked, thumb rubbing over the back of your hand. “Oh it does, does it?”

“Mmhmm.” You nodded, eyes meeting his.

Raph’s voice got all soft. “It’s a good color for ya.”

Heat rose to your cheeks at the implications. “I think so, too.”

The microwave beeping caused you to part, grabbing the mug for Raph, careful not to burn yourself on its hot exterior. You handed it to him and he sprayed some whipped cream on it before going through the basket of things you’d brought down to the lair. He shuffled through your DVDs before holding up a copy of the Grinch.

“It’s you!” You said, laughing mischievously.

He deadpanned. “Ha. Very funny.” He continued to look through them, pulling out Barbie in the Nutcracker. “What’s this one for?”

“I brought that specifically at Mikey’s request.” You defended. “But it is a cinematic masterpiece nonetheless.”

Raph chuckled. “I’m sure it is.”

The two of you moved to the living room, Raph carrying your basket for you. Leo greeted you as you sat down, barely looking up from his book to do so. You pulled out your Switch and booted up Stardew, Mikey sitting upright at the sound.

“You playing Stardew?”

You grinned. “Maybe.”

“Can I get on?”

“Absolutely.” You laughed, booting up the Co-Op farm you’d started with the boys. Well, you mostly played with Mikey, but Donnie hopped on every so often.

Raph picked one of your movies from the basket and pulled it out, opening the case and staring at the DVD. Looking at it, his thumb might be too big to pop it out in one piece, so he handed it to you.

“Hmm?” You asked, looking up. “Oh.” This wasn’t the first time he’d asked you to do so. Borrowing your little hands, as he liked to say. You popped out the disk and handed it to him so he could put it in the PlayStation.

With Home Alone playing in the background, he sat beside you on the couch, his arm settled on the back cushions, brushing against your back. He watched your screen every once in a while, fascinated as your little pixelated character ran around, planting parsnips and fighting little green blobs.

Your phone buzzed, a notification from Tinder blinking on its screen before going black again. It was one of their promotional messages, begging you to try their premium service, but why would you when it was already so rough out there?

Raph was quiet for a long moment before saying, “You tryin’ to date again?”

“I was. I don’t know.” You shrugged. “The dating pool up there is rough.”

“Hmm.”

“What?” You looked over at him.

“Nothin’, I just…I think ya should delete it.”

“I probably should.” You shrugged and leaned on him, hoping he’d finally take the hint.

“Yeah, her crush isn’t on there anyway.” Mikey chuckled.

Raph narrowed his eyes. “You got a crush?”

“I do and you’re gonna be down a brother if he doesn’t shut up about it.” You glared at him over your Switch, causing the youngest turtle to laugh mischievously.

“Huh. Didn’t know that.” Raph crossed his arms, withdrawing them from around you, jealousy bubbling just beneath his surface. It was almost hilarious how oblivious he was, if not utterly infuriating.

You stayed for the rest of the movie before starting to pack up your stuff to go home. “Hey Raph, would you walk me back?”

“Sure.” He replied, a little shorter with you than usual. “Got everything?”

“Mmhmm.” You nodded, looking up at him.

“Great. Let’s go.”

The city was quiet, snowflakes falling. You loved New York in winter. There was so much to do and it was beautiful. Well, until the snow turned to slush, that was, then it wasn’t so fun. But right now, the way it looked, it was like your own personal snow globe.

Raph got you to your apartment in one piece, and he was about to turn to leave, but you put a hand on his arm.

“Hey, do you wanna come up? Hang out for a bit?”

“Uh, sure.” He nodded, motioning up to your fire escape. “Race ya.”

“Ha. For your sake and mine I hope the elevator’s working today.” You chuckled, walking into the building and taking the elevator up to the fifth floor. Once you were inside, Raph’s hulking silhouette was looming in the window. You crossed the room, unlocking the window and opening it for him.

“Thanks.”

“Mmhmm.” You hummed, watching as he entered the room, standing somewhat awkwardly as he waited for you to say something.

“So…this crush ah yours…I know ‘em?” Raph asked tentatively, shifting from one foot to the other.

You chuckled. “You…do, actually. Pretty well, I would think.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh.”

“Oh.” You repeated, taking a few steps closer, looking up at him. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same, though. I get it.”

“Wait, you mean me?” His eyes widened, staring at you. “Holy shit.”

You burst into laughter. “Yes I mean you! Who did you think I meant?”

“I dunno, like Leo or…Casey or somethin’ not…” His expression softened. “Me?”

“You.” You confirmed, taking that final step and taking one of his gigantic hands with your own.

“Are ya sure?” he asked, fingers tentatively curling around yours.

“Positive.”

He grinned. He looked around your apartment. “Aw, shorty, where’s your mistletoe when I need it?”

“You don’t need it.” You assured him, standing on your toes as he met you in the middle, finally, finally pressing his lips to yours.

Tags: @thelaundrybitch

#tmntagedup #tmnt #bayverse #raphael #raphael x reader #raph #raph x reader #tmnt imagine

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