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cptn-stvngrntrgrs · 4 years

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this idea has been bugging me for a while and it's totally okay if you don't want to write it!: "i saw mommy kissing santa claus au + Sarah kicking steve in the groin because she thought a stranger was trying to kiss her mommy + "Mommy, don't you love daddy anymore?" while crying + while in pain steve goes, "it's me, daddy"

hey anon! i had fun writing this!!! i hope you’ll like it :)

Title: Kissin’ Around the Christmas Tree

Relationship: Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanoff

Summary:

“W-why is mommy kissing Santa Claus?”

Also on AO3!

“Pssst”

Silence.

“Pssst, James”

A grunt, and then silence.

Sarah Rogers huffed out a breath, and, without warning, jabbed a finger right into her brother’s side to effectively wake him up.

“Sarah!!!” he hissed, sitting up abruptly and rubbing his side, where he can still feel the sting of her finger. Sarah giggled and James glared at her through his hazy, sleepy eyes.

“James, come on! It’s Christmas!!! Let’s go down before mommy and daddy wakes up!” she excitedly rushes out, her hand already tugging his. Despite being woken up harshly, James flashes his sister a smile. What can he say? He absolutely adores his sister. With their two year age gap - James being 7 and Sarah just turning 5 - the two are very close, and the little girl has her brother (and her father) wrapped around her little finger.

“Okay, okay, just be quiet and step lightly. We don’t want to wake them up,” James instructed her as he climbed out of his bed, putting a finger over his lips for the dramatics of it. Sarah giggled softly and mirrored his action.

Sarah definitely is her mother’s daughter. She loves “secret missions” or sneaking up on people, and takes this job very seriously. She glanced out of his door to look out into the hallway before yanking James out to the direction of the stairs. They pause at the top and both slowly, quietly make their way down.

“Is that mom and dad?” James whispers, hearing voices coming from the end of the hallway, where the living room is at.

Sarah scrunched up her nose, annoyed that she didn’t wake up before her parents. She and James continued their silent trek to the living room, where they paused before entering because in front of them is their mom and Santa Claus, holding hands and facing the tree with their back to them.

“You have got to stop spoiling her,” came out their mom’s stern voice. This made Sarah and James jolt, both rushing to stick by the wall to hide themselves. Their heads, however, would occasionally peak into the room.

Santa Claus laughs, and it sounds familiar, but it shouldn’t be, because it’s Santa Claus. They haven’t exactly met before. Sarah frowns as she watches Santa put both of his hands on her mommy’s shoulders.

“Nat, it’s not me you should be scolding! You know full well that at least half of her gifts came from Tony,” Santa tells her mom, his voice muffled by the white beard hanging from his face.

Their mother says something back but it was so soft that the two missed it, looking at each other questioningly to see if they heard what their mother said. James shrugged and looked back at the scene happening in front of them, eyes narrowed.

“Besides, she’s hardly the most spoiled girl in this house,” they heard Santa say as he moved his hands from her shoulders, to her sides, then settling on her hips.

“Oh?” was their mother’s response, her hands wrapping around Santa’s waist. Sarah and James exchanged a look of confusion. Why would their mother be hugging Santa ?

“Mhm. Her mother has been very naughty last night yet she still got her gift. I’m certain her mother is more spoiled than her,” Santa replies, making their mom laugh.

The meaning of the two’s words went completely over Sarah and James’ heads but what they understand, though, is the scene currently unfolding in front of them.

Their mommy is kissing Santa! Her hand went under his beard to pull him down and now she’s kissing his lips! Sarah felt her lower lip tremble and looked at James as if to ask what to do. James just looked back at her in horror, also not fully grasping what’s going on.

“W-why is mommy kissing Santa Clause?” she quietly asked him.

James only shook his head. “I’m… I’m gonna go upstairs to tell daddy.” And with that, he was off, running up to his parents’ room. Sarah felt a tear fall and decided on what she has to do.

Attack Santa Claus.

Sarah ran into the living room and right between her mom and Santa. She heard her mom gasp behind her, and with all her forty-pound might, pushed Santa away and kicked him in the “no-touch zone” a couple of times, promptly sending him whimpering to the ground.

“Sarah!” her mother called out her name, kneeling down to grab a hold of her before she can do any more damage to Santa.

More tears fell as Sarah turned to her mom. “M-mommy…”

Natasha, despite being confused as to why Sarah lashed out at Steve while crying, crushed her daughter to her chest, softly asking her what’s wrong while running rubbing her back soothingly.

“I saw-” hiccup “you kiss-” hiccup “Santa! Mommy… do you… do you not love daddy anymore?”

Before Natasha got the chance to answer, James burst into the room, panting. “I CAN’T FIND DADDY ANYWHERE!!!!”

Groaning, Santa – well, Steve – propped himself up. “What are you guys talking about? I’m right here,” he coughed out, slowly pushing himself off the floor, clutching his groin in pain.

Sarah calmed herself down enough to take a look at Santa, erm, at her dad, as James yelled out, “No… you’re Santa!”

Natasha laughed and Steve rolled his eyes, taking the beard, spectacles, and hat off. The kids watched on in surprise as Santa transforms himself back to their dad right in front of their eyes. Steve looks at them back-and-forth before opening his arms and grinning at them.

“DADDY!!!!” The two of them scream, running into his arms and hugging him. “It is you!”

Natasha doesn’t move for a bit, watching the kids hug their father with a smile on her face. She took off the scrunchie holding her long, red hair up and stood up to approach Sarah, tying the little girl’s strawberry blonde hair up in a messy bun. Sarah turned to beam at her and raised her arms up, asking to be carried.

She obliges and the little girl wraps her arms around her neck. “Hey kids, mommy loves daddy very much and would not kiss anyone else but daddy, alright?” Natasha reassured.

The two children giggled and nodded, Sarah looking at her father bashfully. “I’m sorry for kicking you, daddy,” she said, pout and puppy eyes already in place.

Again, not having the power to even stay upset at his little girl, Steve breaks out into a full dashing smile (despite the throbbing pain still present in his groin, if he’s being honest), and moves over to pick her up from Natasha’s arms. Sarah laughs and hides her face in her dad’s neck.

Natasha pulls James close and places her hands on his shoulders as he looks around thoughtfully. “So,” he drawls out, “if Santa is actually dad, then does that mean Santa isn’t real?”

#romanogers #anon ask #prompts #fanfic #fic #stevenat #stevetasha #marvel #mcu #natasha romanoff #steve rogers #sarah rogers #james rogers #fluff

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mysmesomefluff · 6 years

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Merry Christmas! I'm so excited for your choi-mas collab :D Would you mind writing Saeran with MC who doesn't feel happy during Christmas or doesn't like to celebrate it, maybe due to bad memories of them in the past? (Maybe this is asking too much, but please don't make the reason like she's always been alone on Christmas :')) afrfhikfegifvfvhtf I'm sorry if I'm too specific or too demanding;;;; feel free to ignore the details;;;

A long wisp of white mist escapes you as you heave a long sigh while walking aimlessly down the pavement of the quiet park. You’re grateful for the fact that there aren’t that many people around. With your hands stuffed in the pockets of your coat, you take slow steps down the path, listening to the sound of your boots crunching on snow when you stray closer to the edge of the pavement.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, but you ignore it. It’s probably more funny pictures being sent to the messenger. There’s a Christmas party being held at Jumin’s villa for the RFA members at the moment, and from what MC has told you, the party games had been planned by Saeyoung, and the result of that has been quite disastrous for Zen in particular. Saeyoung took a lot of pictures of the handsome actor wearing cat ears and sneezing so hard he looks like his nose might fly off soon. The host wasn’t spared either – Jumin got a beard of whipped cream and was forced to wear a santa hat and costume, though he kept his necktie on. It made for a rather strange-looking santa get-up, but you suppose it does suit him somewhat.

There were a couple of pictures of Saeran sent to the messenger as well, mainly of him holding plate after plate stacked with a mountain of Christmas cookies and treats.

A tiny smile lifts your lips briefly at the pictures of your silly boyfriend that are still fresh in your mind. At least he’s having fun. You’re glad that he’s finally getting the chance to make up for all the years he lost and all the Christmases he had spent alone. The happy gleam in his eyes that you spotted in the photos surfaces in your mind, stirring a pleasant warmth in your chest.

A strong, cold gust of wind that hits you in the face then brings you back to reality.

The dull ache that has been there the past three days returns, settling like a heavy weight on your heart. The small smile on your face vanishes just like that, and you close your eyes, biting down on your lip as your feet shuffle to a stop.

Christmas – it’s the happiest time of the year, a time for laughter and joy, the most wonderful time of the year.

Not for you, it isn’t. Not since two years ago, at least.

Your hand comes up to touch the heart-shaped locket resting over your collarbone. Memories of silver hair fluttering in the warm summer breeze, of her wrinkly eyes shrinking as she smiled happily at you, and of the skin on her forehead creasing in worry whenever you looked tired and weary flood your mind like a gushing river. The ache inside you worsens to the point that it’s suffocating, and you have to swallow the painful lump forming in your throat before moisture starts building in your eyes again.

You continue down the lonely road, eyes downcast and trying to take your thoughts elsewhere, but that doesn’t work. This place is filled with so many sweet, warm memories of her. The children’s playground to your right that you just walked past? You used to play in that sandbox, and she used to chide you for rubbing sand on your face with your dirty hands. The swing just next to it? You would plead with her to keep pushing you while you were on the swing, and she would comply, too soft when it came to your cute round eyes. And this path. She would take your hand in hers as you walked home together, and she would remind you to be careful whenever you skipped and jumped about, and would squeeze your hand in hers more tightly to keep you from falling.

Maybe coming here wasn’t the best idea. You just didn’t want to stay cooped up in your apartment, but out here, it’s hard when you have to hold back your tears and when you’re too drained to dig through your bag for a pack of tissues you’re not sure you even brought.

You come to a stop, figuring you should probably just head home for the night. You just want to go back to your bed, to crawl under your comforter and cry yourself to sleep. Sleep means not thinking, and you want to stop thinking and remembering for a while.

You turn around to walk in the direction of your home, but the moment you do, you hear someone call your name. Someone all too familiar.

Your head snaps up towards the source of the voice, and you’re surprised to see him there, standing a distance away from you beneath the fairy lights strung around the trees by the side of the path, his unruly red hair and scarf flying in the winter breeze.

You feel your heart sink. He shouldn’t be here. He should be at the party, not here, and not now, when you’re in this sort of state, lips quivering and vision blurring with hot tears as each second drags on. You look away and start walking away from him, ignoring the concern in his voice when he calls your name again.

Your pace quickens when you hear his footsteps becoming faster. “What are you doing?” he demands, chasing after you. “Are you running away from me?”

“Leave me alone, Saeran. You shouldn’t even be here. You should be at the party,” you reply over your shoulder, loud enough that he won’t hear the shaking of your voice.

“I got tired and left early.” His footsteps are louder now, and before you can hasten your walking pace you feel his hand latch onto your wrist, stopping you and spinning you around to face him. Resolutely, you keep your face down. “You said you weren’t feeling well so I went to check up on you,” he explains, grip on your wrist tightening. “But you weren’t in your apartment so I panicked and started looking for you. What are you doing out here while you’re running a fever?”

“I’m not,” you reply in a vexed tone, wrenching your wrist from his hold. “I feel fine.”

There’s a beat of silence, before he places a hand on your forehead, and another on his own to check. You don’t even have the energy to protest. Once he’s done ascertaining that you’re physically well, you expect him to let it go and you’re about to ask him to go home and get some rest when he states, “You don’t have a fever, but you are definitely not okay.”

He doesn’t ask why, but the unspoken question lingers in the air and space between you two. Nevertheless, you’re grateful that he doesn’t ask. You can only manage a meek, slight nod at his statement, since there’s no point trying to argue otherwise. Saeran knows you, his eyes never missing a detail when it comes to you. At times like these, you find a small of yourself rather resenting that observant quality of his.

“I’ll walk you home.” He settles for that, taking your hand in his and walking by your side.

A comfortable silence hangs in the air, and you relish in the comforting squeeze that he offers your hand, the warmth of his body next to yours, and the sound of another pair of footsteps apart from yours. You wanted to be alone, but he’ll always be an exception to that. His presence alone is like a thick, warm blanket draped over your shoulders, and you find yourself absently sticking closer to him.

“Thanks,” you whisper, your free hand coming up to brush the tips of your fingers against your locket. Holding his hand and walking like this… It reminds you a lot of the walks you used to take with her, your beloved grandmother. You’ve missed that so much, but more than anything else, you miss her. You miss being able to throw your arms around her and cry into her shoulder when you’re having the worst day, you miss being able to hold her hand and walk down the long stretch of road while talking about anything and everything under the sun.

You miss being able to spend Christmas with her, picking out presents for her, eating her famous roast turkey with the rest of the family and sitting with her by the fireplace when she’s too tired to play games with the younger ones.

Christmas. It’ll never be the same without her.

You sense his questioning gaze on you when your shoulders start to shake, but he doesn’t utter a word. It’s only when you begin to sob that he comes to a stop so he can pull you into his arms and rest your head against his shoulder so you can cry freely into his coat without having to worry about others seeing your face.

He runs his fingers down your hair, gently stroking your head and holding you close to his chest. It only reminds you even more of how she would hold you and stroke your head when you cried.

“I miss her so much,” you sob, fingers digging into the material of his winter coat. “It hurts so bad, Saeran.”

His arms wrap tighter around you, squeezing you tightly. “I know. It was your grandmother’s death anniversary a week ago, right? I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you.”

You pause, still choking on sobs but you manage to pull away to look at his grim expression and ask, “H-How did you know?”

“You started being distant since last week, but I was afraid to ask so I went to check it up, and I just… found out.”

You’re not sure what to think about him digging into your personal information, but it’s not exactly the first time Saeran has done this and it wasn’t as if you were going out of your way to hide it from him – you didn’t want to ruin Christmas for him, that was all. Right now, you can’t find it in yourself to care about that, and you wrap your arms around him, nestling your head in the crook of his neck.

“Are you mad?” he asks hesitantly.

“Not really,” you reply, still sniffling but feeling a little better already. “You could have just asked though.”

“You didn’t seem like you would tell me even if I asked.” Fair enough.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he questions softly.

“I didn’t want to ruin Christmas for you. You deserve a happy Christmas, for the first time in your life since coming back to Saeyoung and MC.”

“It’s not a happy Christmas without you,” he mutters. “Especially not when you’re alone. I know how much it sucks to be alone during Christmas, especially when you’re hurting, and I never want you to feel that way.”

“Saeran…”

“We’ll go to your house, watch some shows if you’re feeling up to it and then we’ll sleep this off. I’ll make you hot chocolate too. Okay?”

That brings a genuine smile to your lips. You nod and hum. “Sounds good.”

“Good. Let’s go, then.” He carefully brushes your tears away when you pull away from him, and then takes your hand in his once more before heading down the path back home.

A/N: This ended up dragging on and on… T_T Hopefully this was okay. Merry Christmas to you anon :)

#saeran choi #saeran #saeran fanfiction #mystic messenger #mystic messenger fanfiction #mystic messenger fanfic #saeran choi fanfiction #saeran choi fanfic #saeran fanfic #mysme #mysme fanfiction #mm christmas fic

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