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leclerc-hs · 6 months

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snowballs - cl16

pairing: charles leclerc x nanny!reader (fem) summary: in which you bake cookies with charles and his daughter but still end up on your knees warnings: some cute fluff?, 18+, slight smut, oral (m-receiving), bad french (please correct me!!! i don't speak french), not proofread word count: 1,342 author's note: merry christmas eve (ya filthy animals) lmaooo. also loling at the title. leaving this here for y'all. single dad Charles has me in a complete chokehold. this is not a part 2, just a little Christmas themed drabble if you wanna call it that. if you didn’t read THIS yet, then go do it.

french edits made by @dannyramirezwife !!! (my angel)

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

THE AIR WAS filled with the sweet scent of pine and cinnamon, instantly putting you in a festive mood as soon as you arrived today. Soft, twinkling lights adorn the walls and windows, casting a warm and inviting glow throughout the space. Throughout the apartment, the sound of classic Christmas tunes plays softly in the background.

The kitchen, where all three of you stood, was pure chaos. Bowls varying sizes are strewn across the countertops, each bearing the remnants of different stages of the baking process. A mixing bowl, its sides smeared with sticky remnants of cookie dough, sits next to a flour-dusted measuring cup. Multiple trays of already baked cookies, sat cooling atop the stove. It truly was a mess.

“Papa! Vous ne pouvez pas manger ça!” You can’t eat those! She exclaimed in fits of laughter. Her face was absolutely covered in ingredients. No doubt from sneaking licks of cookie dough and frosting when she thought that nobody was looking. Flour coated her hands and arms, and some had found its way to her rosy cheeks.

“Ils sont pour le Père Noël!” They’re for Santa! You agreed with her. Swatting him with one of the Christmas themed hand towels that was nearby, before returning to decorating the cookies that lay in front of you.

Charles emitted a resounding gasp, skillfully weaving of feigned anguish. His reaction unfolded with a theatrical flair; a symphony of emotion portrayed through a dramatic hand gesture that traversed the journey of his fist to his chest. It mimicked the palpable sensation of being struck, an artful display of simulated injury. “Un autre homme reçoit tout cela?” Another man gets all of these?

With an indulgent smile, you playfully orchestrate a slow, deliberate roll of your eyes in response to his theatrics. Unfazed by the charming display, you redirect your attention solely to the task at hand – meticulously adorning the remaining cookies with festive embellishments. The ambiance in the room becomes a delightful blend of shared amusement as you all work hard finishing them all.

Charles soon excused himself to his bedroom to gather a call regarding some car testing that happened earlier this week.

As you were on the verge of releasing a hearty sigh, ready to vocalize your exhaustion, your attention diverted to the drowsy four-year-old near you. Her delicate features were gently pressed against the countertop, closed in the embrace of slumber. A wave of endearment washed over you. Suppressing a giggle, you marveled at the sheer adorableness of the scene, momentarily setting aside your fatigue to savor the precious sight before you.

Tenderly, you gathered her into your arms, cradling her like a precious bundle. With each careful step echoed through the familiar path leading to her room, where the soft glow of ambient light revealed the traces of a day well spent.

Arriving at her bed, you marveled at the cherubic expression on her face. Softly, you attempted to wipe away the remnants of flour that adorned her tiny arms and face, a silent acknowledgment of the shared joy in the day’s baking escapade. Deciding that it was best to let her sleep than to wake her to bathe her now. The sheets could always be washed later. In that quiet moment, you sat on the floor beside her bed, just smiling at her. The room became a sanctuary, where the gentle act of care echoed the love woven into the fabric of the night.

Unbeknownst to you, Charles stood silently in the doorway, quietly observing the intimate scene before him. A swell of emotion gripped his heart as he beheld the tender scene – there you were, alongside his daughter, the warmth of familial connection radiating from your shared moments. In that unspoken exchange, a poignant desire filled his heart, longing for the sense of family that seemed to effortlessly bloom in your presence. His heart was full of want for you.

“Sugar crash?” His voice, soft and unexpected, caught you off guard, prompting an instinctive flinch. As you turned your head, you found Charles slowly approaching, his tall figure standing gracefully behind where you were seated. His captivating green eyes remained fixed on you, their beauty holding a silent intensity, never once wavering from your presence.

“Oui,” you softly smiled. “Je devrais aller nettoyer,” I should go clean up. You stood to your feet as Charles pressed a soft kiss to his sleeping girl and brushed her hair out of her face.

Back in the kitchen, it truly looked like a tornado had hit the room. Standing amidst the culinary chaos, you contemplated where to even begin when, suddenly, a pair of hands playfully seized your waist, diverting your attention.

“Tu me rends fou,” You drive me crazy.

His lips pressed softly into the swell of your neck, his tongue pressing against your cookie batter covered skin. “Tellement doux,” So sweet.

Your stomach clenched with butterflies as he spun you around, holding you close to him. Slowly, he brings his index finger to the corner of your mouth, wiping a speck of dough off you and bringing it to your lips.

He doesn’t even need to tell you before your opening your mouth, wrapping your tongue around his finger to lick it off. You stare up at him in the process, witnessing the color of his eyes darken as you release his finger with a ‘pop’.

“Je te rends toujours folle?” Still drive you crazy?

You observed the Adam’s apple in his neck bobbing with a pronounced gulp. The veins in his neck stood out prominently, evidence of his teeth being clenched.

You slowly made your way to your knees, trailing your hands down his body, feeling his taut muscles through the confines of his sweatpants. You skillfully looped your fingers into his waistband, pulling them down to free his hard length. Not too far away, was some spare cookie dough on the island of the kitchen. To which, you reached one arm up and grabbed, spreading some of it onto him, a smirk graced your lips as you heard him groan.

“Mon dieu,” My God. He physically had to lean forward, hunching over you, in order to grip the kitchen counter top as soon as your tongue met him.

You moaned at the taste of him and the cookie dough.

He half-chuckled as his hips bucked further into your mouth, chasing after his pleasure. He inhaled sharply, trying to relax, but you were eager and adamant on getting him there. You were so so so eager to please him.

Your hand gripped him, collecting the spit on your fingers, spreading it all over his hot skin, while you suckled gently at his sensitive tip.

“Mmm, fuck,” He couldn’t get full words out as you sunk him deeper into your mouth, his tip scraping the walls of your throat. The burning in his stomach was rising as he watched you eagerly take every inch of him. You moaned at the taste of him, the vibrations pushing him even closer to the edge.

His face was completely flushed now as you bobbed up and down, essentially choking on him. Keeping your voice down, you pulled off of him again.

“Je te veux partout sur ma langue,” Want you all over my tongue. Your whimpery tone sent him over the edge almost instantly.

“Fuck, fuck,” he repeated. The muscles of his arms bulging as he gripped the edge of the countertop tightly. Your eyes were wet with tears, but you were satisfied as he filled your mouth. Your tongue ran over the tip once more, licking up every drop, before he took a step back from you.

You grinned lazily at him as you stood to your feet. His chest was rising and down deeply as he tried to catch his breath.

“Complètement fou,” Fucking crazy. He murmurs, pulling you in for a sweet kiss.

“Il est temps de nettoyer!” Time to clean! You clap your hands together, devious to escape his touch.

But you both know, that he won’t let you off the hook that easily.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc #f1 x reader #f1 imagines #f1 imagine #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fanfic #don’t wake the kids cl16 #drabble #f1 drabble

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bussyslayer333 · 2 years

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All I want for Christmas (is you)

summary: some fortunately placed mistletoe forces bob to tell you how he truly feels.

pairing: robert floyd x best friend!reader

word count: 2.6k

warnings: smut, swearing, mentions of alcohol, slutshaming jake LOL, bob is a pussyeater™️ bc i said so

MDNI this is an 18+ fic

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Robert Floyd has been your closest friend for the past 2 years. You had been worried when you first moved to San Diego for a fresh start that it had been a horrible mistake, in fact you were sat in homesick tears at the beach when he stumbled upon you. Since that day he hadn’t really left your side, which is where he could be found currently.

You were both nursing an interesting mulled wine that Rooster had tried to brew for the team Christmas party. You weren’t quite sure why you were here since you didn’t work with said group of aviators who had become your closest friends but they had absolutely insisted.

The night had just started really, Penny was graciously hosting the gathering at the festively decorated Hard Deck which she had closed just for the team. You had begged her to let you help in some way since you were leaching on to their party so she had allowed you to help her decorate along with Mav and Rooster. The perimeter was surrounded in sparkly tinsel and fairy lights, there was a large tree in the corner of the room covered in mismatched baubles and a large piece of mistletoe hanging down in the other corner. You were still wary of Rooster’s mischievous giggles as he taped it up.

When the rest of the aviators had arrived along with the few higher ups Mav had invited they had all commended your decorating skills, especially Bob. He had told you very early on that Christmas was one of his favourite holidays, evident now by his gaudy (and most definitely itchy) Christmas sweater he was wearing.

“Baby on board, you’re gonna have to turn that shit off I’m pretty sure your interfering with some type of space station signal right now.”

Jake laughed, referring to the Christmas lights which actually lit up on Bob’s sweater. You jumped to his defence immediately,

“What are you even supposed to be? Slutty Santa? Tasteful.”

Phoenix snorted into her wine, though you weren’t sure if it was because she had accidentally swallowed a cinnamon stick again.

Jake smirked, “you want to come sit on my lap and find out?”

He gestured down to the tight black slacks he was wearing, it was paired with a very lowly buttoned up red silk shirt and a tiny Santa hat that had been placed on his head by Maverick upon his entrance.

You roll your eyes and don’t dignify him a response whilst everyone slowly resumes their previous conversation.

“Thanks darlin’.” Bob smiled down at you somewhat bashfully.

You giggle at him and flick the button on his sweater which changes the setting on the lights to fade in and out of their colours slowly.

“I love this sweater.”

“I know you do, that’s why I wore it.”

You look up to meet his eyes and he’s looking at you earnestly. You flush slightly but blame it on the drinks you’ve been consuming.

You’re snapped from his gaze when Fanboy announces loudly that he and Payback will be starting off karaoke.

Their rendition of ‘Baby it’s cold outside’ isn’t the worst thing you’ve ever heard, and Fanboy has a surprisingly high vocal range. Bob is snickering into your hair behind you, trying to appear encouraging for his fellow WSO but failing slightly.

“Bet you 50 that bagman is gonna sing Mariah.”

You turn, shocked at Bob’s admission, “no way! He’s gonna sing some Frank Sinatra classic in hopes that I’ll start swooning.”

Bob raises his eyebrows and sticks his hand out for you to shake. You hum, considering your options then finally give in, placing your hand in his. Bob notes how soft your hand is compared to his, he strokes your thumb slightly before letting go. The contact brings heat to your cheeks that you hope isn’t too visible.

“You’re on Robby.”

Bob’s lips quirk up at the nickname but he doesn’t mention it, and he stalks off to get himself another drink. You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding as Phoenix approaches.

She has a sly smile on her face but still looks gorgeous nonetheless, she’s wearing an emerald satin top and black jeans. You go to complement her but she cuts in,

“You look gorgeous, I love this dress, when are you and Bob going to fuck?”

You’re still comprehending her comment about your dress before her full statement registers in your brain. You gawk at her for a second whilst she chuckles evilly.

“I- we’re not- Look me and Bob are just friends.”

She rolls her eyes, Phoenix has been your second closest friend since moving to San Diego. Her presence was always welcome and you usually adored her but you weren’t enjoying what she was currently insisting upon. And that wasn’t because it isn’t true, but more because you’re worried what will happen if you finally say it aloud.

“You are thinking so loudly right now.”

You shove her shoulder lightly, “He’s not interested in me.”

You look over to where Bob is stood at the bar, talking to a tall redhead. You think her name is Isla, she works in the control tower and to your knowledge was invited by Halo.

Phoenix laughs at your admission and wistful expression, “I cannot believe you’re this down bad for a man in a light up Christmas sweater. Also, he is head over heels for you.”

“I like his sweater!”

“You are the only one in here who thinks that.”

You hmph at Phoenix’s comment, “I bet she does as well.”

You gesture to the redhead who is now laughing heartily as Bob shows her the different settings on his sweater.

“Who? Halo’s girlfriend?”

You splutter slightly on your drink.“I thought she had a thing with that girl at work- ohhhhhhh.”

Phoenix scoffs slightly, “Glad to know you pay attention to the rest of us babe.”

“Shush, should I go talk to him?”

“You don’t need to.”

You look confusedly at Phoenix until you feel a familiar strong hand on your waist.

“I’m not interrupting am I?”

Phoenix answers for you, “Of course not, she’s all yours.”

With that, she winks and is off. You turn to face Bob, he’s significantly taller than you and it feels evident now even with your heels on. You’re craning your neck up slightly to make eye contact with him. You take a second to study how he looks, his cheeks are tinted slightly pink and his lips look incredibly soft, his blue eyes are dilated behind his glasses where his hair flops slightly down onto. He forwent the gel because he knows you like his hair in its natural state, even if it impairs his vision even more. He speaks up first,

“You look really beautiful tonight.”

You avert your eyes from his, aware of the rising colour in your cheeks.

“You think?”

You’re fiddling girlishly with the hem of your dress, it’s a babydoll style dress that always got you many compliments.

“I know.”

You can sense that Bob has something else he wants to say but he’s interrupted by Rooster announcing the next person to come and sing.

“Bagman, please take the stage.”

Jake grabs the mic off Bradley and you hear him mumble something about getting his callsign right. Bob’s hand is in yours and he’s pulling you over to the corner of the room furthest from the stage. You look at him questioningly and he’s explaining himself with a smirk on his face,

“I wanted to give you some privacy whilst you lose this bet.”

You smack his arm playfully,

“Shut up, you’re just embarrassed you’re wrong.”

“Sureee.”

Jake has finally finished his rambling and selects a song. You’re certain he’s gonna pick a Sinatra classic and wait for the opening notes to Have yourself a merry little Christmas. It’s safe to say you’re surprised when the familiar jingle of Mariah Carey starts up and Jake is already belting out the first notes. You look at Bob, accusatory,

“You’ve rigged this!”

Bob is doubled over laughing, you finally take your eyes off of him to turn around and huff. Which is when you notice your fortunate position. You and Bob are stood directly under Rooster’s mistletoe. You freeze slightly which catches Bob’s attention, he follows your eye line.

“Gosh, I promise I didn’t drag you over here just to kiss you!”

“Just?” You tease.

“No! I mean obviously I would love to kiss you but that’s not what i meant! I wouldn’t ever trick you into-”

You shut up his rambling my planting a kiss on his lips, they’re as soft as you imagined and he tastes sweet like the cinnamon in the wine. He kisses you back almost immediately and your lips mould together perfectly. You pull away first, noticing some of your lipgloss had transferred onto his slightly swollen lips.

“Woah.”

Bob’s exclamation makes you giggle, he’s gazing down at you in awe and you feel enclosed in a fuzzy bubble where it’s just the two of you. Hangman’s awful singing sounds light years away as well as the rest of the crowds cheers for him. Bob places one of his hands on your waist and the other he uses to lift up and brush a stray hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear.

“Can I kiss you again?” Bob whispers, ever the gentleman.

“I’d love you to.” You smile, leaning in.

You lips crash against each other again, with more vigour this time. Your hands rake through the hair at the back of his neck and he moans quietly into your mouth, giving you the initiative to slip your tongue into his mouth. He reciprocates your action, making you weak in the knees, unsteady in your heels. In the distance you hear Jake finishing up the last notes of Mariah Carey whilst everyone joins in at various different volumes. Bob pulls away and whispers into your ear,

“Do you think we could sneak out now?”

You go to protest, seeing as you haven’t been here long but see the lust blown look in his eyes and decide against it, instead nodding your head and slipping your hand into his. Bob drags you around the crowds to the exit of the Hard Deck. Before you can peacefully slip through the door you look back and catch Phoenix’s eye. She winks with a knowing smile and you giggle slightly. She was never wrong.

Finally leaving the Hard Deck you notice Bob is dragging you to his car,

“I’m only five mins away.” You smirk into his shoulder.

“Yours it is.”

The short drive to your house is tense, neither of you sure whether this was truly happening. Bob speaks up,

“As much as I want to fuck you, I can’t if it’s just gonna be a one time thing. I’ve been in love with you since the day we met. ”

You look to him and see how honest he looks, gnawing at his lower lip nervously, your heart races at his admission. You smack his arm in annoyance.

“Ow!”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner!” You urge him, “I’ve been yours this whole time. All you had to do was tell me you’re mine.”

Bob looks down at you with such love in his eyes it’s hard to imagine that you just smacked the shit out of him. You’re pulling up to the outside of your cottage when he finally speaks up.

“I’m yours.”

You smash your lips again his for the third time this night with even more urgency, but you pull away even quicker, wary of your nosy middle aged neighbours.

Once your front door is closed, Bob’s hands are all over you. He’s lifting the hem of your dress to your waist and grabbing at the exposed skin. You let out slightly pathetic whimpers as his kisses make their way down your neck, chest and stomach.

“Never stop making those sounds for me darlin’.”

You whimper at the pet name, satiating him. His kisses reach your lower stomach where he finally stops to admire your panties. They’re cherry red, lacy, and don’t leave much to the imagination. He groans at the sight, making you flush even further whilst he toys with the little bow at the top.

“Can I?” He gestures downwards.

“Please.” You whine.

Bob’s nimble fingers are hooking under the sides of your panties and he pulls them down to your ankles swiftly. He helps you step out of them, removing your heels along the way. You watch as he pockets the panties with a smile on his face and he quirks an eyebrow. Bob’s staring at your bare pussy like a man starved but you can’t help but giggle.

“Are you seriously about to eat me out wearing a light up Christmas sweater?”

Instead of dignifying you with an answer, Bob licks a fat stripe in between your folds, hoisting one of your legs over his shoulder and forcing you to lean back against your entry way wall.

“Fuck, yeah okay then.” You whimper breathlessly.

Bob seems pleased with your reaction as he continues his ministrations, now kitten licking at your clit. You can feel the cool edges of his glasses hitting your lower stomach and your whole body feels alight with need for the man in front of you. He moves his tongue down to your entrance and dips it in slightly, his nose nudging at your clit. You moan out at the contact, spurring him on further. Bob’s tongue is fucking in and out of you, each time his nose brushes against your clit making you even weaker beneath his touch. Your hands are curled tight in his hair as you feel yourself getting closer and closer.

“Fuck don’t stop, please Robby.”

Bob looks up at you from his position on his knees making you whine much louder than you should have. His hand moves down from its solid grip on your thigh to circle at you clit in tight circles. You’re moaning freely now, hips bucking up erratically. Bob can feel you’re close and he quickens his actions just enough to make you become even more high pitched as you reach you peak. Pleasure washes over you and Bob pulls his tongue away from you to watch you spasm.

“You taste so good darlin,” Bob whines, almost as breathless as you.

You can see your wetness around his mouth and his hard cock straining against his jeans.

“You’re incredible.” You simper, pulling Bob to his feet.

He pulls your lips together, making you moan at the taste of you on his tongue. Pulling away to look up at him, you finally rid yourself of your dress, pulling it up and over your head and dropping it to the floor beside you. You had forgone a bra whilst getting ready, so you stood bare in front of the still fully clothed Bob.

“God,” Bob groans, “You’re fucking amazing.”

“Robert! Your language is dreadful.” You giggle playfully.

He reaches for your hand and brings it down to his aching cock. It twitches beneath your palm which is significantly smaller than his,

“It’s just what you do to me.” He breathes into the side of your neck.

You pull away from him and turn around, making your way to the stairs that lead to your bedroom. Bob watches your figure retreat, focusing his eyes in on the way your hips sway and your ass moves as you walk. You turn your head to the side and beckon for him,

“You coming, Robby?”

Bob is hurriedly ridding himself of his sweater and jeans as he replies,

“Hopefully.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

a/n: CHRISTMAS BOB MY LOVE!!!! there will be more christmas fics for sure bc i am a festive gal tbh. lew lew loml

this is low-key self indulgent af sorry HEHEH

pls comment and reblog or send me an ask and tell me what u think !!

ty for readinggggg :)

- honey <333

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proxima-writes · 6 months

Text

title: a very furby christmas

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x female reader

rating: t

word count: 3.6k

joel miller masterlist | all masterlists

summary:

it’s christmas eve 1998 and joel miller thinks everything is perfect.

well, until his brother admits he didn’t get sarah the one present she wanted - the furby. now, joel has to go out on christmas eve to find the year’s hottest toy that’s been sold out for months.

turns out, you’re on the same mission. and you’ve both found the last furby in town.

author’s note:

this is just a silly lil feel good holiday fic that’s been plaguing my brain. if you are too young to have experience the furby craze, i implore you to look it up. however, if you do remember, i hope this gives you a happy dose of nostalgia. gingerbread dividers by @saradika-graphics

tags/warnings:

pre-outbreak, no use of y/n, holiday/christmas fic, the last toy trope, no smut, age gap - not explicitly specified but joel is 31 and reader is mid-20s, the great miller gingerbread construction competition, operation get sarah miller a furby, some kissing.

“Dad! Wake up!” Sarah shouts, bursting into Joel’s room. She leaps onto the bed, bouncing on her knees and jostling him around on the mattress as he groans.

“Sarah, baby, it’s too damn early,” he says, pulling the quilt over his head. “Go back to sleep.”

“But it’s Christmas Eve!” The bouncing stops as she lays beside him, tugging the quilt down. “It’s time to make cinnamon rolls. And we gotta make cookies for Santa.”

Joel blinks, his daughter’s face coming into focus, bright brown eyes and a gap toothed smile filling his vision. Her hair is a wild mess from sleep and her unicorn pajama shirt is stained with toothpaste. At eight years old, she’s starting to lean out, her cheeks no longer as round and her limbs at that stage of awkward adolescent lankiness. He wants to sleep, wants a few more hours of rest after a jam packed holiday season of repairs and deadlines and supply issues, but looking at her smiling face and remembering that she’s getting older…

Well, that gets him moving.

“Alright. Let’s get downstairs and make Santa the best cookies he’s ever had.”

She squeals, scrambling off the bed and racing out of the room, light footsteps descending the stairs as he rubs the sleep from his eyes and gets up to find a t-shirt in the pile of laundry he’s neglected to put away, opting to dig through its wrinkled contents for what he needs each day instead.

He makes his way downstairs and to find his daughter rummaging through the fridge and pulling out eggs and milk for their customary Christmas Eve cinnamon rolls and the jangle of keys in the doorknob lets him know that Tommy has arrived.

“Ho, ho, ho! Merry Christmas, Millers!” His younger brother announces. “Sarah! It don’t smell like cinnamon in here!”

“Dad woke up late,” she shouts back. Tommy grins at Joel as he passes, slapping a hand on his shoulder.

“‘Course he did,” he says with a wink. Joel rolls his eyes as he gets the electric mixer from the top cabinet for Sarah and preheats the oven for her.

“Y’know, Santa can take all those presents he’s got ready for you and leave them at other houses for nicer kids,” he says. Sarah’s eyes go wide.

“He wouldn’t!” She yelps. “I’ve been good all year!”

“Don’t listen to your daddy, sweetheart. He’s just bein’ a sensitive Sally,” Tommy says. She breathes a sigh of relief, her attention returning to her task of cracking eggs.

“I just really hope Santa brings me a Furby,” she says wistfully. “I want one of ‘em so bad. Chrissy got one when they came out in October and they’re so cool!”

“I’m sure Santa will come through,” Joel says, catching Tommy’s eye and winking. Tommy’s brows pinch together as he mouths, “What?”

Joel widens his eyes at him, a look that screams, “What do you mean, what?!”

Tommy continues to look confused and Joel squeezes his eyes shut, turning back to his daughter to help her with rolling out the dough she’s mixed up. She continues to chat about her excitement for tomorrow, especially because her big sister has agreed to stop by in the morning.

“You didn’t forget that she’s coming, right?” Sarah asks.

“‘Course not, sweetie,” Joel replies distractedly. The hours Joel works aren’t always conducive to a prompt after school pick up, so most days Sarah spends time with a volunteer from the Empowered Girls program that she calls her “big sister”. He always forgets her name, but he knows she’s a student working on her master’s degree in elementary education at University of Texas. Did he forget she was coming? Yeah, maybe, but he’s got bigger problems right now.

Like the fact that Tommy is acting like he has no clue he was supposed to get Sarah that damn Furby for Christmas.

Once the cinnamon rolls are in the oven and Sarah returns to her room to get dressed for the day, Joel smacks Tommy on the back of the head.

“Ow! The fuck?” He asks, rubbing the sore spot. “What was that for?”

“Tell me you didn’t forget that perfect little girl’s goddamn talkin’ demon toy or I’ll do it again,” Joel warns, already raising his hand. Tommy scrambles from his seat, hands held up defensively as he backs himself up against the counter to get away from his brother’s assault.

“You didn’t tell me to get one!” He insists. Joel stares at him incredulously.

“I sure as hell did! I gave you fifty bucks three weeks ago and asked you to get one because I’d be workin’ OT until Christmas Eve and it would be too late by then!”

“I thought the fifty was for me. Like an early gift or somethin’.”

Joel closes his eyes and attempts to take a deep breath. When he opens his eyes, he feels no more calm as he looks at his brother.

“Great. Now I’m gonna have to go to the goddamn toy store on Christmas Eve to find one of these things.”

“I’ll go for you,” Tommy offers. Joel hits him with a look.

“No. I ain’t makin’ that mistake again. You’re stayin’ here with Sarah and I’ll go get the Furball.”

“It’s Furby,” Tommy corrects. Joel reaches out and smacks his head again before he can protect himself.

Sarah returns to the kitchen, dressed in her Rudolph t-shirt and jeans and smiling brightly as she says, “I’m ready to make cookies!”

Joel smiles apologetically. “Bad news, sweetheart. I gotta run down to a job site and check in on somethin’. Looks like a plumbin’ emergency.”

“On Christmas Eve?” She asks, smile dropping from her face. “But we have to make the cookies!”

“I know, I know, but Uncle Tommy will stay and help you. Ain’t that right, Tommy?”

“Yep. And we’ll make cookies better than any your daddy has ever made, too.”

Joel’s teeth grind together at the dig but he keeps smiling at his daughter. “Right. See? I shouldn’t be gone too long.”

“I guess,” she says forlornly. Her arms wrap around Joel’s legs and squeeze tightly. Joel smooths a hand over her wild hair, glaring at Tommy.

“Sorry, sweetie. But the sooner I head out, the sooner I can get back, okay?”

“Okay,” she mumbles against his thigh. “I’ll make sure Uncle Tommy doesn’t eat all the dough before we bake it.

“That’s my girl,” Joel says.

________

You knew you shouldn’t have waited this long to go shopping for your little sister’s Christmas gift, but you’d picked up extra shifts at your part time job since you weren’t flying home for the holiday break and time just slipped away from you. Now you’re entering your fourth store on a desperate hunt for the one toy she hasn’t stopped talking about since it came out in October.

“It’s called a Furby and the more you talk to it, the more it learns,” she told you, showing you the fluffy toy in a catalog one day. “Isn’t it so cute?!”

“It’s…something,” you replied, staring at its dead eyes. “And that’s what you want for Christmas?”

“Yeah, I don’t know if Santa will bring it for me. I told dad about it, but he’s been really busy with work and I don’t know if he remembered to tell Santa.”

You wander around the store, looking for the garish pink and blue sign that lorded over the toy display. You finally spot it, crossing your fingers as you quickly approach what looks like a mostly barren shelf. There’s something on the bottom row, but your experience in other stores has showed you that often people abandon their unwanted items in the Furby display, leading to false hope.

“Please, please, please,” You mumble, moving quickly now. You’re trying not to break into a run in the middle of the store but after so many disappointments, you can’t be blamed for your steps turning into a light jog.

A pair of unseeing mechanical blue eyes stare back at you from the bottom shelf as you get closer. Pristine white fur, pointed ears, and a little yellow beak encased in plastic.

The last Furby.

You’re so close to success you can taste it.

You reach for the toy, ready to scoop it into your arms and take a victory march to the lone cashier left working, when a tan hand emerges from your left, landing on the box just as you touch it.

“‘Scuse me,” a deep voice says, southern drawl blanketing the words. You look up, gaze meeting the warm brown eyes of a handsome man, tall and broad with messy dark curls. He smiles, all smooth charm as he says, “I’m goin’ to need this toy.”

You stand firm. “I think I was here first, sir.”

The charming smile drops. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Look, I need this toy for my daughter. I’ve been lookin’ for one all over town.”

You place your free hand on your hip. “I need it for my little sister and I’ve also been all over town today. If you needed it so bad, why didn’t you get it sooner?”

“Pot, meet kettle,” he replies. You roll your eyes. “Come on, please? Ain’t there somethin’ else your little sister is dyin’ to have?”

“She’s talked about this toy for months,” you tell him. “And she’s worried Santa isn’t going to bring it, so I wanted to make sure I got her one.”

He smiles softly. “Sounds like my daughter. She handed me no less than five letters to Santa to mail off askin’ for one.”

“So why didn’t you get one before tonight?” You ask curiously.

“My dumbass brother,” he says. “I‘ve been workin’ overtime for the last few months, so I told him to go out and get one. He didn’t listen.”

“That sucks.”

“What about you? What made you wait so long?”

It should probably feel weird, having a full conversation with a stranger while you’re in a stand off over a Furby, but the man’s smile has your stomach twisting, wanting to know more about him and oddly thrilled that he wants to know more about you, too.

“I picked up a lot of extra shifts since I’m on break. I go to UT,” you tell him. “Time just got away from me.”

“Yeah, I’m familiar with the feelin’.”

A crackle sounds over the store speakers, a bored voice announcing, “Attention Toys R’ Us shoppers. The store will be closing in five minutes. Please make your way to the front of the store to complete your purchases.”

The man’s expression grows panicked. You sigh, taking your hand from the box.

“Get it for your daughter,” you tell him. “Keep that Santa magic going for a bit longer.”

“Are you sure?” He asks. “What’ll you get for your sister?”

You look around the store, spotting a sporting gear display. You take off in its direction.

“I’ll figure something out!”

________

“It’s a Furby!” Sarah shouts, shaking the box in her excitement. “Look, dad! Santa got me a Furby!”

“Is that so?” Joel says, sipping from his mug of coffee with a splash of Bailey’s, his own personal Christmas tradition. “See? I told ya I sent out all those letters you wrote.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She chants, running around the family room in her red plaid pajamas. Tommy, still barely awake, nods as Sarah shows him the list of features on the back.

It’s close to 9 a.m. but the Miller brothers had a late night of wrapping presents and drinking whiskey in order to have the tidy pile of brightly colored boxes ready beneath the tree for Sarah in the morning. Joel had also gotten her a new journal and a pack of Jelly pens, a few bottles of nail polish, and two new Beanie Babies for her collection. Tommy had sprung for a set of shin guards for when she starts soccer in March, something she was excited for ever since the girl she’d been paired with in her big sister after school program had played with her a few times.

It’s not much, but it’s what he could manage. Sarah is happy, her eyes lighting up with each gift she unwraps, and that’s all that matters to Joel.

A knock sounds at the door and Sarah races down the hall, Joel trailing after her trying to remind her not to open the door to strangers. The young girl doesn’t listen, instead throwing open the door and launching herself into the arms of someone surprisingly familiar.

You look up, eyes going wide in surprise he’s sure mirrors his own. Sarah drags you in by the hand, excitedly introducing you, giving Joel a name for the pretty face he’d been thinking about all last night.

“Hi, I’m Joel,” he says, holding a hand out to you. You slip your palm against his, warm and smooth, shaking his hand. The smile on your face is mischievous, the secret the two of you share dancing in your eyes.

“Nice to meet you, Joel,” you tell him. “Hope I’m not too early, Sarah said you open presents around eight and to come after that.”

“No, no, ‘course it ain’t too early,” he assures you. He realizes he’s still holding your hand, even as silence settles between you. With a laugh, he draws back, running his hand through his hair nervously. “You want coffee?”

“Sure.”

Joel leads you to the kitchen where Tommy is pulling a fresh tray of cinnamon rolls from the oven under Sarah’s careful supervision. He whacks her hand with a dish towel when she tries to reach for the steaming hot dessert and she pouts pitifully. She spots the gift bag in your hand and her eyes light up.

“Is that a present for me?” She asks.

“Sarah Elizabeth Miller,” Joel chastises. You laugh, handing the bag over to her. She rips the tissue paper from the top, reaching in for her gift with a wide smile.

“A soccer ball!” She exclaims. “Dad, you can help me practice in the backyard now!”

You share a look with Joel, one where his gaze is filled with gratitude and yours reflects understanding. The moment is made brief by Sarah trying to bounce the ball on her knee, knocking it onto a counter and subsequently being told to go put it away for now.

You introduce yourself to Tommy while Joel pulls you a mug of coffee. Sarah brings her now unboxed Furby into the kitchen, setting it in a place of honor on the dining table.

“Dad, can you put batteries in Snowball?” Sarah asks. She turns to you. “That’s his name.”

“Oh. Hello, Snowball,” you say, voice serious as you regard the toy. Joel laughs while he digs around the junk drawer for the rogue batteries that hide beneath bills and takeout menus.

As breakfast is served and toys are turned on, conversation flows between everyone easily. It’s a wonder, Joel thinks. You fit right in with his little family, like you were meant to be there all along. Maybe it’s the Bailey’s in his coffee, or maybe it’s the spirit of Christmas, but he can’t help the warmth in his chest as he watches you help Sarah with the Furby that started it all.

________

You’ve been at the Miller house since early that morning, through all three meals of the day, many rounds of coffee, a screening of Home Alone and A Christmas Story, and painting your nails with Sarah. Not once does anyone make you feel like you’ve overstayed your welcome. In fact, as the day wears on, you can’t help but think that Joel, like you, doesn’t want the day to end. You keep catching his eye and the crooked smile he gives you leaves you feeling giddy.

After dinner, Joel and Tommy start gathering what looks like cookie decorating supplies. Sarah sighs and you turn to her with concern.

“It’s time for the gingerbread competition,” she says, more solemn than an eight year old ought to be. Joel leaves the room and returns with a caulking gun.

“Why does he have that?” You ask, watching as he loads a saran wrapped bag of icing into the chamber.

“They take this…very seriously.”

Tommy and Joel set up decorating stations on either end of the dining table, shooing you out of your seat. Sarah grabs a cookie from a platter on the counter and settles onto a barstool while you stand by, confused and maybe a little scared.

“Are you ready?” Sarah asks. Both men nod. “Start your construction!”

Joel and Tommy rip into the cardboard gingerbread house kits, determination in every move. Joel uses the caulking gun to lay a foundation for the floor of his house, followed by the sides and the roof in quick succession. While Joel is going for a well built structure, Tommy takes a more avant garde approach, using a combination of licorice and frosting to hold his house together.

“Are they always like this?” You ask, fascinated as you watch them.

“Sometimes they’re worse.”

Tommy chucks a peppermint at Joel’s head, the candy bouncing off his forehead and landing on his gingerbread shingles. He counters with a gumdrop that manages to hit Tommy square in the eye, angry curses falling from the younger Miller brother’s lips as he tries to recover and continue the construction of his mid-century cookie home.

“Quit fightin’ dirty,” Joel says when Tommy whines about him being unfair. “I‘ll only fight dirtier.”

You know that the words aren’t meant to be suggestive but you can feel your cheeks go warm nonetheless. The Furby in Sarah’s arms coos, a string of indecipherable words coming from its little yellow beak.

“What did it say?” You ask.

“I’m not sure. It’s still speaking Furbish,” she says.

“It said,” Joel chimes in, setting down his frosting gun, “that I’m the gingerbread construction champ.”

Joel’s little gingerbread house looks like it’s straight from a magazine. Perfectly built, structurally sound, and classically decorated with candy and sugar. You and Sarah both applaud as Tommy groans. His little house lists to the side and a glob of icing drips to the table.

“Don’t worry, Uncle Tommy,” Sarah says to her dejected uncle, patting him on the shoulder. “There’s always next year.”

“Alright, it’s time to start closin’ up shop. To bed with you,” Joel announces, steering Sarah for the stairs.

“Can’t I stay up later?” She complains. The Furby echoes her tone convincingly.

“I already fell for that last night. You’re not gettin’ away with it twice. Bed, and brush your teeth,” he replies, kissing her on the head. “Tell everyone goodnight.”

She hugs you and Tommy before heading upstairs, the Furby chirping as she goes. Tommy punches Joel lightly on the shoulder.

“You know I let you win, right?” He asks. Joel scoffs.

“The proof is in the cookie,” he says.

Tommy rolls his eyes. “Whatever, man. I’m headin’ home,” he says, hugging his brother. To your surprise, his arms wrap around you in a quick squeeze as well. “It was nice to meet you. Don’t be a stranger,” he tells you with a wink.

When the front door clicks shut, it’s just you and Joel in the kitchen. You’re inexplicably nervous now, despite spending the whole day with the man, and you busy yourself by loading the dishwasher with mugs stained by hot chocolate and coffee.

“You don’t have to do that,” Joel says, gently grasping your wrist. He removes the mug from your hand and sets it on the counter. He pulls you close, your chest brushing his as you take in a surprised breath. “This okay?”

“Yeah,” you murmur. Up close, you can see the stubble that’s grown along his jaw, the slight creases in the corners of his eyes, and that his nose is just the slightest bit crooked. A heavy palm rests on your lower back, the heat of him palpable even through your t-shirt.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, voice dropped low in the quiet room.

You nod, unable to form words, but that’s okay. His hand cups your cheek and his lips press to yours and your eyes flutter shut, a sigh escaping you as you lean into him. It’s soft at first, experimental. A tentative exploration of a broken boundary.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, holding tight as he parts your lips and his tongue tangles with yours. He tastes like sugar - peppermints and hot chocolate and cookies that he’s eaten throughout the day sweetening his kiss. When he pulls back for a breath, he dips his forehead against yours, smoothing his thumb across your cheek.

“Been wantin’ to do that all day,” he tells you. He kisses you once, twice, and is about to go in for a third when a voice from upstairs interrupts him.

“Dad?” Sarah calls. Joel steps back from you, leaning past the kitchen doorway to yell back a, “Yeah?”

“Snowball won’t stop talking,” she replies. Footsteps sound on the stairs and Joel breaks away from you as Sarah enters the kitchen, Furby in hand.

“Take the batteries out,” Joel suggests.

“I did.”

She turns the toy over, showing the empty battery compartment. Joel rubs the back of his neck as he thinks.

“Tell you what,” he says, holding his hands out for the toy, “Why don’t we stick it in the hall closet for the night?”

“Won’t he be scared?”

“It’s…it’s a toy, baby.” You stifle a laugh as he shoves the talking Furby beneath some towels in the linen closet and shuts the door. “There, now you can both get some sleep. You can play with Snowball again in the mornin’.”

Sarah yawns, nodding. Joel kisses her head before urging her back to bed. When he returns, his shoulders shake with silent laughter.

“What a weird toy,” you tell him, eyeing the closet suspiciously.

“Yeah, but it’s what got us here,” he says, pulling you into his arms once more.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel tlou #no use of y/n #joel x reader #no smut #joel miller fanfic #joel miller tlou #joel miller the last of us #joel fic #joel the last of us #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character

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yuujispinkhair · 1 year

Text

From Sukuna, made with love

Christmas is your favorite time of the year. You love the coziness, the warmth, the love. But unfortunately, all this feels less magical when you know you will spend Christmas Eve alone. And so you desperately try to find someone to keep you company via your dating app. But maybe the real magic of Christmas is already right in front of you, brewing your favorite coffee and baking your favorite cupcakes while wearing a far too smug smirk and complaining too loudly about the stupid Santa hat he has to wear at work.

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: fluff, Christmas AU, Coffee Shop AU Word Count: 6.5k Warnings: none, just lots of fluff, flirting and kissing. This is a non-curses AU. Sukuna is the barista from hell to some of his customers but not to you :) All characters are of age. My blog contains 18+ content. Minors don't interact.

There is now art for this story!! Thank you so much to the lovely @irideste for drawing barista!Sukuna!!

This is my contribution to my sweet friend @shirohyorin's Ficmas Calendar! Thank you so much for hosting this cute collab, Loni! I hope my story can add to the coziness you are spreading over our dash. I wish everyone a sweet December and merry Christmas if you celeberate it!

December 1

The doorbell jingles softly as you enter your favorite coffee shop. It makes you smile because the sound reminds you of Christmas. Like Santa's sleigh with the reindeer. The smell that drifts towards you adds even more to the Christmassy feeling. The rich taste of coffee and hot chocolate laced with cinnamon and gingerbread spice.

You sigh happily. This is your little safe place, your sanctuary every morning before you start your hectic work day. And especially now, when the countdown to Christmas has begun, and the pretty Christmas decorations and lights are up, this little coffeeshop all in white is the coziest place you know.

You smile to yourself, already looking forward to a little treat before work, a gingerbread latte, and maybe a cinnamon roll. You look over at the counter, expecting to see the owner or one of the usual baristas. But you blink in surprise when your gaze lands on someone else.

A new guy.

He stands out in the white interior like a black sheep amidst its white herd. He is dressed all in black and is tall and muscular with an athletic build. His hair is pink and styled in a fashionable-looking undercut. His ears are pierced several times, and his face is adorned with filigree black tattoed lines.

He looks intimidating. Strikingly attractive but scary. And definitely very out of place in the middle of all the sparkly white and silver Christmas decorations.

The woman before you grabs her bag of cookies and leaves, giving you space to step up to the counter.

Your breath catches when a pair of pretty maroon eyes meets yours. They are framed by long black lashes and a second pair of eyes, tattoed ones, black and red. But what strikes you the most is the intensity with which those eyes look at you. As if the owner of those eyes can see right into your soul.

The corners of his eyes crinkle, and you realize that the new guy is smirking at you, looking almost infuriatingly smug, as if he knows how flustered you are by his gaze.

Even his voice is mocking you. A sexy lazy drawl that should rather be used in the bedroom than in a cozy little coffee shop at 7:00 in the morning!

"Good morning, princess. What can I get you?"

"Sukuna, you shouldn't call customers pet names!"

"Oh, shut up, Yuuta! Get back into the kitchen or something and stop getting on my nerves. I'm just being nice. Isn't that what is expected of me here?"

You watch the little quarrel with wide eyes until those maroon eyes snap back to you. The new guy, Sukuna apparently, laughs softly, revealing two rows of straight white teeth. And a pink tongue that curls upwards to press its tip to his front teeth, letting you catch a glimpse of something sparkly in his mouth. You realize only a split second later that Sukuna has a tongue piercing. You don't know why this fact makes your pulse flutter.

Sukuna cocks his head, fixing you with his intense gaze and a lifted eyebrow, like a cat checking you out, deciding whether you are worthy of its presence,

"So, let's try this again, huh? What do you want to order?"

"Um...I...a ... a large gingerbread latte, please...but can I get extra cinnamon, please?"

"Sure, anything you want, princess."

He smirks at you again before walking over to the coffeemaker. He is really tall. And his skinny black jeans are snug on his thighs and firm butt, making you silently curse yourself for checking out your new barista's ass. Sukuna is looking at you over his broad shoulder and asking in that velvety voice,

"What's your name?"

You tell him, and he nods, grabbing the pen next to the coffeemaker and scribbling your name on a paper cup before he starts preparing your order.

A few moments later, Sukuna puts the cup in front of you with another big grin on his handsome face.

"Here, enjoy!"

His long fingers are still wrapped around the cup. He's wearing black nail polish. Of course, he is! You almost snort. But his handwriting is surprisingly elegant.

You take the cup from him and give him a polite smile,

"Thank you. Have a nice day."

"Have a nice day too, sweetheart. Make sure to come back tomorrow."

His voice is filled with amusement, and the cheeky wink he gives you is absolutely not the way the other baristas treat the customers.

You quickly leave, wondering why your face feels so warm. It must be the heating in the coffee shop.

December 2

"Good morning, princess. I'll get your order."

You are greeted by a smirking Sukuna, who is leaning casually against the shiny white counter, bracing himself on his elegant hands. The sleeves of his black sweater are pushed up to his elbows, exposing a pair of tattoed forearms. Tattooed and toned.

You stare at them for a moment too long before you lift your face to blink still a bit sleepily at Sukuna. His words register in your mind, and you frown in confusion.

"But...I didn't order anything yet."

"Oh, you don't have to. I know what you want."

His maroon eyes sparkle teasingly. You hate the way you get so flustered by a stupid comment like that. But something about the way Sukuna looks at you with so much confidence and smugness makes it hard not to get nervous.

Sukuna chuckles and turns around to walk over to the coffeemaker. When he comes back to place the paper cup in front of you, you see your name written on it correctly with a smiling face next to it, and Sukuna announces in a triumphant tone,

"Large gingerbread latte with extra cinnamon."

He really remembered your name and your coffee order. You can't help but be impressed. It took his coworkers weeks to remember those things.

You leave the coffee shop with a smile, sighing happily as you take the first sip of your gingerbread latte with extra cinnamon. Perfect! Exactly like you want it.

December 6

You are in a bad mood this morning as you wait in line in the little coffee shop. Your thoughts are occupied with what your workday holds in store for you today. So you barely manage a weak smile when it's your turn to place your order.

Sukuna raises an eyebrow,

"Rough morning ahead, princess?"

You nod, oddly touched that he noticed something is amiss.

"Yeah, I have a meeting with my boss today, and he will probably give me even more work."

Sukuna srunches his nose,

"In that case, you need something sweet to get you through the day. Take one of the red velvet cupcakes! They are the best. Trust me on that."

Before you can reply, he is already leaning down to grab a plate with a delicious-looking cupcake out of the glass display. He puts it on the counter in front of you with a boyish grin.

"Something sweet for a sweet girl."

You feel like an idiot when you drop the money you want to give him and have to pick it up from the floor with your ears ringing from the blood rushing into your head. Sukuna's laughter still carries through the coffee shop when you have already reached the door.

December 7

"There she is! Hey, how did you like the cupcake? I didn't promise too much, did I?"

You can't help but laugh as Sukuna greets you with those words.

"It was one of the best cupcakes I ever ate! Thank you for recommending it."

He pouts, huffing in mock exasperation as he crosses his toned arms in front of his defined chest.

"Only one of the best? Then I'll make it even more delicious next time, so it will become the best cupcake you ever had. I'm not ok with only being second best!"

That makes you stop and raise your eyebrows,

"Wait, did you bake them?"

Sukuna laughs and nods smugly. There's a proud twinkle in his eyes.

"Yeah, I did. Tell me what you want me to change about the recipe, and the next batch will be the custom-made cupcake of your dreams."

Somehow you have no doubt that he is ambitious enough to really do that. And so you put a finger to your lips and lift your eyes in a playful thinking gesture,

"Hmmm, in that case, I really would love dark chocolate frosting instead of the vanilla one."

"Ok! My favorite customer wants dark chocolate. She'll get dark chocolate!"

You can't help but laugh at Sukuna's words, and hours later, when you are already sitting at your desk at work, his low playful voice still plays in your head. "My favorite customer," he said.

His favorite, huh?

A smile lifts the corners of your lips. Sukuna is definitely well on the way to becoming your favorite barista too.

As rude as he is, he is also pretty charming. You have to admit that. He definitely manages to lift your mood before a long workday. And maybe you are looking forward to his teasing comments and smug smirk every morning. Just a tiny bit.

December 8

The first thing you see when entering the coffee shop is Sukuna's smirk, and he lifts a tattoed hand to wave at you and give you one of his teasing winks.

You chuckle softly and wave back at him as you get in line behind the other customers.

When you are only one customer away from the counter, the man in front of you steps to the side, allowing you to get a good look at the display stand. Behind the glass is a delicious-looking tray of red velvet cupcakes. This time with a dark chocolate topping, exactly as you wished for.

Your lips lift in a smile. And then your gaze lands on the little chalkboard in front of the cupcake tray. There is written in Sukuna's elegant handwriting, "(Y/N)'s dream cupcakes".

December 10

When you enter the coffee shop this morning, you are greeted by the sight of red amongst the otherwise white interior. The two employees you see both wear bright red Santa hats.

Not Sukuna, though. He chooses that moment to stride out of the kitchen, carrying a baking sheet with Christmas cookies, looking as un-Christmassy as usual.

"Hey, Sukuna, put the hat back on! You know we have to wear them! Same rules for everyone!"

Sukuna rolls his eyes at his coworker as he places the cookies in the glass display.

"Tsk, I won't do that shit. It looks ridiculous."

His maroon gaze meets yours, and he grins.

"Let's ask a customer! Hey, princess, I'll let you be the judge."

And before you can say anything, Sukuna already grabs his discarded Santa hat and puts it on his pink hair. His eyes sparkle challengingly as he raises an eyebrow at you and points one long tattoed finger to his head,

"What do you think? This looks stupid, doesn't it?"

You stare at him wide-eyed, feeling like a deer caught in the headlights with all eyes on you. Especially that pair of maroon eyes that fixes you with an intense gaze and a smirk so attractive it should be illegal.

Your mind isn't functioning properly with all this attention on you before you even had your first fix of caffeine. And so you just blurt out what comes to your mind,

"I think it looks really good on you!"

It does. Everything looks good on Sukuna! He is gorgeous. He could even wear some reindeer antlers and a glowing red nose and pose as Rudolph, and he would still look hot!

Maybe your answer was a bit too enthusiastic, though, judging by the smug look on Sukuna's face. You feel embarrassed, averting your gaze quickly and feeling much too hot suddenly. But Sukuna just laughs.

"Well, in that case, I'll leave it on. Just for you, sweetheart."

The loud "Ooooooh!!" coming from the people in the waiting line behind you makes you wish the ground would swallow you whole, but at the same time, you cannot help but snicker softly and grin as you take your coffee from Sukuna.

The grin won't leave your face even when you are already on your train to work.

December 12

Today you chose to pay the little coffee shop a visit after work. It's already pretty late, but you can't bring yourself to get up from your comfy seat at your favorite table that lets you watch the wintery street. People rush past the coffee shop on their way back home from work. Some carry big bags filled with Christmas presents, probably. You see small children on their parents' hands, pointing excitedly at the Christmas lights installed on the street lamps and the buildings.

It started to snow an hour ago, and now the trees lining the street are covered in fluffy-looking powdery snow. You watch, mesmerized, as big snowflakes slowly soar down from the sky.

It's so comfortable here in the coffee shop. Warm and cozy. You take a sip from your coffee before closing the e-mail you have been responding to. And now your finger lands on another app.

Tokyo Hearts – The dating app for lonely city hearts.

You open the app and get greeted by their current seasonal welcome message. You don't want to be alone on the merriest day of the year? Find a date for Christmas Eve here and discover true love.

You sigh. If only it was so easy! As much as you love Christmas time, it also gives you a little pang this year because you know you will be lonely on Christmas Eve.

Or maybe not! A notification pops up, telling you there is a new message for you.

The guy who sent it looks cute. And he works in an animal shelter, which makes him sound like the type of guy you could like.

Your finger hovers over the reply button, thinking hard about what you could message him back when a low voice next to your ear makes you jump,

"Are you looking for a boyfriend online, princess?"

You squeal loudly and almost drop your phone, struggling to catch it before it falls into your coffee.

Your gaze snaps up to Sukuna's tall figure, seeing him grin that insufferable grin at you.

You hurriedly lock your phone screen while trying to fight the embarrassment washing over you. As if Sukuna caught you doing something dirty.

"W...what are you doing over here, Sukuna?"

Sukuna graces you with a shit-eating teasing grin as he replies,

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe I work here. Maybe I am being a good employee for once and checking on my customers to see if they are happy in our wonderful coffee shop or if they have another wish. Crazy, I know!"

His maroon eyes are full of mischief as he leans casually against your table.

You huff and roll your eyes,

"Wow, I guess I am talking to the employee of the month. But I don't need anything at the moment, thank you."

Sukuna laughs at your reply, but he doesn't leave. Instead, he shoves his hands into the pocket of the apron he is wearing over his black jeans and sweater and eyes you with a strange look on his handsome face.

"Be careful if you want to meet up with one of those guys from your little dating app. You never know what kind of idiots hide behind that screen."

That makes you blink up at him, surprised at the uncharacteristically serious tone of his usually so playful and teasing voice. Sukuna is towering over you with his tall height, but the bright red Santa hat atop his pink hair makes him look cute instead of intimidating today.

And his concern is touching. You find yourself nodding slowly and smiling gratefully at him.

"I'll be careful. Thank you, Sukuna."

December 13

Your date with the animal shelter guy is a disaster.

You asked him to meet you in the coffee shop, and at first glance animal shelter guy is cute. But it only takes about ten minutes to realize that a cute face doesn't make a cute personality.

He is annoying. A know-it-all who keeps talking over you, making fun of your taste in movies and music, scrunching his nose at your job, and even looking down on the gingerbread latte with the extra cinnamon you love so much.

Not even half an hour into the date, you already know you never want to see him again. But he refuses to get the hint even when you start responding with only one-worded answers. You have a feeling he even prefers that you don't talk anymore because, most of all, he likes to listen to himself. And so he keeps on talking, sharing his opinions with you about this and that.

You zone out and let your gaze wander across the coffee shop and over to the counter, where Sukuna's tall figure is leaning against the wall with his arms crossed in front of his broad chest. His maroon eyes meet yours. He has been watching your table, you realize.

He raises one eyebrow curiously, and then his gaze slips to your date and then back to you with a knowing grin. He lifts his right hand and makes a throat-slitting gesture.

You have to bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing out loud, but your eyes sparkle amusedly at him as you nod softly.

Sukuna pushes himself off the wall and grabs a tray with a large coffee cup that his coworker just put on the counter, making said coworker complain loudly. But Sukuna ignores him and, to your astonishment, starts walking toward your table.

Your eyes widen in foreboding as Sukuna stops next to your table, smiling down at animal shelter guy. It's a dangerous smile. And his low voice is sugary sweet, dripping with fake politeness,

"Here is your order, sir."

Your date lifts his head to snap at Sukuna,

"What do you mean!? I didn't order anything."

Sukuna's smirk grows wider as he stands there in all his glory, tall and gorgeous, looking intimidating with all his tattoos and piercings and the toned muscles of his biceps flexed from balancing the tray.

He cocks his head, eyeing your date with an amused expression on his handsome face that reminds you of a cat playing with a mouse,

"Aww, you didn't? Well, I guess this is on the house, then. Enjoy."

And with that, Sukuna flicks his long fingers against the large coffee cup, making it tip over.

You watch in fascinated horror as the coffee spills out of the cup and gushes over animal shelter guy's shirt.

"What the fuck!!?? Can't you be more careful!??"

Your date jumps up from his seat, hands twisted in his soaking wet shirt while he glares daggers at Sukuna, who just watches him with a satisfied grin.

You can't help but laugh but try to hide it by coughing into your hand while you watch the scene before you.

Animal shelter guy is now gesturing wildly with his hands, spitting insults at Sukuna.

But Sukuna just smiles devilishly at him and informs him in a dangerously soft voice,

"I want you to walk out that door now and never come back."

"I will NOT do that! Who do you think you are? I want to talk to your boss!"

That makes Sukuna laugh,

"Oh, I can do anything I want. My shift, my rules. And you are banned for a lifetime. Bye bye loverboy."

Sukuna jerks his chin towards the door and adds,

"You better not make me drag you out."

His gaze is stern now. The smile is gone. And apparently, your date finally gets the hint that he shouldn't get on Sukuna's wrong side. He scrambles to grab his jacket and hurries towards the door without a glance back,

Sukuna calls after him,

"And don't ever contact her again! I will find out about it if you do!"

You spend the next hour chatting with your favorite barista and eating a red velvet cupcake which he brings to your table with the words:

"On the house because you deserve that after having to listen to that loser for longer than a minute."

When you leave, you smile and call out softly,

"Thank you, Sukuna."

His answering smile is so genuine and pretty that it makes your breath catch in your throat.

December 14

You have a dream where you are at a speed-dating event in the coffee shop, and Sukuna walks from table to table and pours various drinks over every potential date partner.

December 15

You can already spot Sukuna from outside the coffee shop. He stands out, as usual, dressed all in black, tall and athletic, with pastel-colored pink hair and black tattoos.

But you realize immediately that there's an important detail missing. Where is the Santa hat he is supposed to wear?

You scrunch your nose. Maybe he decided to fuck the rules after all. It would suit him. You shake your head in amusement and push the door open.

The little bell jingles, and the comforting smell of coffee and Christmas wraps you in its cozy embrace.

And a pair of maroon eyes instantly meets yours.

Your heart does a weird thing. It throbs.

And Sukuna strides over to the counter and grabs something off it. His Santa hat, you realize a moment later, when he puts it on his head while grinning broadly at you.

The gesture makes you laugh, and when it's your turn to place your order, you can't help but comment teasingly,

"I see you are following your boss' wishes. Good boy."

At the beginning of the month, you wouldn't have dared talk like that to Sukuna. But by now, the two of you have established quite the playful banter, so teasing him back a little won't hurt, you assume.

Sukuna throws his head back, laughing loudly, revealing his slightly pointy canines and the silver tongue piercing that glitters in the light of the coffee shop. His voice is a low, seductive purr when he answers,

"Oh, I'm not wearing that stupid hat for my boss. I'm only wearing it for you."

And once again, you leave the coffee shop with a big grin and a fluttery feeling in your stomach.

December 16

There's a small heart doodled onto your coffee-to-go cup.

You spot it in the middle of a meeting when you play with the cup in your hand and turn it to look at your name in Sukuna's elegant handwriting.

A heart.

It's red.

You didn't even know they have a red pen in the coffee shop.

When your boss asks you a question, you stutter because you have no idea what he is talking about.

The paper cup stays on your desk even after it is empty.

December 17

The 17th day of December is the day when the "red velvet incident" happens.

You're standing in the waiting line, smiling to yourself as you already look forward to your gingerbread latte and a yummy red velvet cupcake. Of course, the ones with the dark chocolate frosting. The ones Sukuna always bakes for you now.

But your smile wavers when you catch a glimpse of the display and see that only one cupcake is left. And, of course, the guy in front of you orders a red velvet cupcake right now.

You silently curse and already try to come up with a replacement when Sukuna looks the guy dead in the eye and informs him,

"We are out of red velvet."

You blink. The other customer is just as surprised as you are because his head snaps from Sukuna to the cupcake and back again.

"Um, no, there is still one left."

Sukuna shakes his head,

"No."

"What do you mean? It's right there."

"It's not available."

"B...but.."

Sukuna lets out an irritated breath and straightens up, crossing his toned arms in front of his chest. His maroon eyes glitter dangerously as he glares at the customer,

"Do you want to be a problem? When I tell you there is no red velvet cupcake available, then there is none available. Now order something else or leave!"

Your eyes widen, and you watch in stunned amusement as the man stares at Sukuna for a long moment before he takes the hint and nervously asks for a cinnamon cupcake instead before hurriedly leaving the coffee shop, probably never to return again.

You step up to the counter. The same maroon eyes that were so unrelenting only a moment ago twinkle amusedly at you now, and the face that was so stern and threatening, is now lighting up in such a genuine and dazzling smile that it makes you feel a bit lightheaded.

"Hey, princess. Fancy a red velvet cupcake?"

December 19

It's hard to focus on work today.

The paper cup standing in the middle of your desk is just too distracting. Maybe not the paper cup itself, but definitely the message that is written under your name.

From Sukuna, made with love.

A stick-figure is doodled next to it, with a grin on its tattoed face and a Santa hat on its head.

And somehow, your heart beats a bit too fast.

December 20

You roam through your dating app just like every night before you sleep. But you skip all the guys it suggests to you. They are all lacking something. Even though you can't tell what it is you don't like about them. They all seem nice and good-looking. So what is it that you are missing?

But in your dream that night, you see yourself sending a message to a very familiar guy with pink hair and tattoos on his handsome face.

December 22

"So, did you meet anyone new on your little dating app, princess?"

Sukuna's gaze burns into yours, making you gulp hard before you manage to answer.

"Um, yeah, I have been exchanging some messages with someone. He asked me to be his Christmas Eve date."

Yesterday morning you woke up to a message from a good-looking businessman who rather straightforwardly asked you to be his date for Christmas Eve since he didn't like spending the evening alone.

As unromantic as the message was, you replied to him and agreed. After all, everything was better than being alone on that day. And this way, two lonely hearts wouldn't have to be so alone on that special day.

You thought you would feel relief upon finding someone to keep you company on Christmas Eve. After all, this was the sole reason why you downloaded that dating app. You were scared to spend this special evening alone. So you should be glad you found someone who wants to take you on a date. Right?

But why do you feel so unsure about it all of a sudden now that you are standing here in front of Sukuna? Why does it feel so wrong?

There's a strange twinkle in Sukuna's pretty eyes, and his smug expression wavers for a split second, but then he huffs softly, and his arrogant smirk is back in place. His soft, teasing laughter fills the air,

"Good for you. But I hope this isn't another loser like the last guy. Bring him here, ok? So I can have an eye on him. You know I'm excellent at getting rid of your failed dates."

Your fingers touch Sukuna's when you reach out to take the paper cup from him. His fingers are warm, and only the silver of the rings he's wearing feels slightly cool to the touch.

His eyes still look deeply into yours. They are an enticing shade of brown you have never seen on anyone else before. Maroon, like rich red wine, dangerous and warm at the same time. Framed by pretty black lashes and the filigree tattoos on his face.

Sukuna still hasn't pulled his hand away. And your fingers are still lightly wrapped around his, not making a move either to take the cup from him.

Only when Sukuna's coworker yells from the kitchen that a fresh tray of Christmas cookies is ready, do the two of you pull away.

When you leave the coffee shop to run towards the train station, you can't help but let a treacherous thought slip into your mind.

What if your date for Christmas Eve had pink hair and a smug smirk and made the best red velvet cupcakes you ever tasted? Would you feel happier about your date then?

You know the answer but forbid yourself to think about it.

December 23

"Do you have any plans for Christmas Eve, Sukuna?"

You curse yourself for asking. You didn't want to give in to the urge, but you couldn't stop obsessing over it. What is your favorite barista doing on that day? Does he have a date himself? Will he leave the coffee shop behind to meet some beautiful girl or boy and take them on a date, making them laugh and flirt with them until they are so flustered they can only stutter? Will he kiss someone under a mistletoe? Will he take someone home and keep them warm in his strong arms while the snow falls down over the city?

The thought makes an uncomfortable knot form in your stomach.

Please don't say you are going on a date! Please don't say you are meeting someone else!

"No, I don't. I took the evening shift. I'll be here, blessing the love-drunk couples with my presence. The best Christmas gift, I dare say."

He winks at you, sounding smug and teasing like ever, but you feel like there is a little edge to the comment.

You are already at work when it hits you: Sukuna took the evening shift. He will be here tomorrow when you meet your date.

December 24

Christmas Eve.

The time for couples. The time for love and romantic dates.

And yet you are sitting alone at your favorite table in the coffee shop.

Your date is already twenty minutes late.

The truth is you aren't even sure you still want him to show up. Or that you ever wanted him to show up at all. Because isn't all of this just a farce anyway?

You aren't interested in that guy. You don't know him and don't want to get to know him. Your heart doesn't beat faster when you think of him. There aren't any butterflies in your tummy when you see his pictures. You have no warm feeling in your chest when you hear his voice. He doesn't make you laugh. He doesn't make you look forward to talking to him. He doesn't know your favorite coffee order or that you like dark chocolate frosting on your red velvet cupcakes.

So what are you even doing here? It's an uncomfortable truth but one you have to face. You only wanted to meet him because you didn't want to be alone on Christmas Eve.

But is this the right way to do it? Fight loneliness with a meaningless date?

It was stupid to do this. And now you are sitting here amidst all those happy couples, clutching your coffee cup tightly in your hands, feeling the sadness wash over you.

So stupid.

How could you think that you could force yourself to have a romantic Christmas Eve?

You get startled out of your misery when Sukuna suddenly plops down on the bench on the other side of your table.

"He's not coming, is he?"

His beautiful maroon eyes are watching you carefully.

You bite your lip and shake your head, feeling tears gather in your eyes. You feel so small and pathetic, sitting here all alone while around you all the couples have their romantic dates. And all you managed was to get stood up by some random guy you weren't even interested in. It's so embarrassing. Surly Sukuna thinks the same.

But his eyes narrow at your words, and he reaches out to put his large hand on top of yours, giving it a short but reassuring squeeze.

"What an asshole! He doesn't know what he's missing."

"It's... it's ok, I guess. I didn't really like him anyway. I don't even know him. I just...I didn't want to be alone on Christmas Eve. That's why I wanted to meet someone on that stupid dating app."

"You aren't alone, princess. I'm right here! I'll be your Christmas Eve date!"

The smirk is back on Sukuna's face, looking so handsome and charming that it makes your heart skip a beat. And his words...

You blink at him, feeling heat spread through your body. Is he serious?

You eye him shyly, not sure if this is just part of your usual banter or something else. But there is a softness on Sukuna's tattoed features you have never seen there before. As if sensing your insecurities, Sukuna adds with a smile,

"I mean it, princess. I would have asked you anyways if you didn't tell me you already had a date. And come on, I am much better than any of those guys in your dating app! With me, you'll experience the ultimate Christmas magic! So, say yes, and I'm all yours."

Laughter bubbles out of your mouth. The gloominess from a moment ago is already forgotten as you smile at your favorite barista and nod softly,

"Ok, how could I say no to an offer like that?"

Sukuna's answering laugh is warm and genuine.

"Good girl. You won't regret it. Give me five minutes, and I'll make this the best Christmas Eve of your life!"

And with that being said, he gets up and walks over to the counter. You watch him across the coffee shop, feeling your pulse race and smiling from ear to ear at the fluttery feeling you have in your stomach when Sukuna's gaze meets yours across the room, and he winks at you.

He comes back after a few minutes carrying a tray that's overflowing with red velvet cupcakes, Christmas cookies, and two slices of Christmas cake as well as your gingerbread latte with extra cinnamon. He sets it down on the table and sits down across from you with a big cheeky grin.

"Merry Christmas, princess."

He looks so pretty with his glittering maroon eyes and boyish smirk. And his low voice is gentle and playful, making it impossible not to smile brightly at him.

"You are actually really nice. Do you know that, Sukuna?"

"Oh, I can be nice if I want. But don't tell anyone. I prefer it if they are scared of me. It's more fun."

Both of you laugh at that, and after that, you fall into a comfortable conversation while sharing the delicious Christmas treats and sipping coffee. It feels so natural to be here with Sukuna. He makes you laugh and roll your eyes in mock exasperation at his arrogant comments, but your heart feels so full at everything he says, at the familiarity of it.

And you realize at that moment that this is what you have been looking forward to every morning for the last few weeks. These flirty comments, that smug smirk, those warm maroon eyes that always sparkle so mischievously.

And all the nice little things Sukuna did for you. And finally, you let yourself think those thoughts you used to consider treacherous. You let yourself feel those things you thought would lead nowhere. You let yourself admit that you like him.

You enjoy Sukuna's company. You like the way he talks and smirks and is so insufferable in the most attractive and irresistible way. You think he is the most charming person you have ever met. And as tough as he appears at first glance, he is actually caring and sweet when you don't let yourself get tricked by his rough attitude.

Another customer chooses that moment to clear his throat loudly before he addresses Sukuna,

"Hey, um, can I order?"

Sukuna musters him with a cold look, his face a stony mask.

"No, you can't. Don't you see I'm on a date too? If you want more cake, just go behind the counter and get some. Put the money on the table."

The corners of his lips lift in a grin when his gaze meets yours again, and you laugh softly, shaking your head,

"Aren't you going to get into trouble with your boss?"

Sukuna shrugs,

"I don't care. And the owner is actually my cousin. So as much as I have tried, he hasn't fired me yet. I think you'll be stuck with me as your barista."

"Oh, that's good to hear! You're my favorite, after all!"

"I know. Who else would prepare your coffee so perfectly and bake your dream cupcakes? I'm the only one who gets it right, don't I?"

And yes, it's true, you realize at that moment. Sukuna is the only one who gets it right. Not just your coffee order and your favorite cupcakes. He also gets it right when it comes to making you feel happy. He is the only one who gives you this magical Christmas feeling that you crave. He has been doing it the whole month.

And suddenly, you are filled with so much affection for your gorgeous barista. You catch yourself wishing there was a mistletoe above your table so you could seal this Christmas Eve date with a kiss.

You look around the coffee shop for one, thinking you are sneaky. But then your gaze meets Sukuna's, and you see the sly grin on his face.

"You know, you don't need a mistletoe to kiss me, princess. I'm your official date now, so you can get a kiss anytime you want."

Before you even have a chance to get embarrassed, one of Sukuna's large hands lands on yours again, and this time he interlaces his fingers with yours. He leans over the table, smiling that boyish grin at you that makes your stomach fill with butterflies.

You see his gaze wander to your lips, and you instinctively lean closer to him too.

Is this really happening?

Maroon eyes gaze deeply into yours as Sukuna places a long finger under your chin, tilting your face up and smirking that sexy smirk at you.

And then his lips are on yours. Warm and soft and surprisingly gentle, making you melt into the kiss with a happy sigh.

Soon your mouth opens against Sukuna's, and he deepens the kiss, making your heart race when his tongue strokes tenderly against yours. Letting you feel his tongue piercing and making you gasp at the sensation of the metal stud gliding over your tongue.

You smile when your fingers land on the back of Sukuna's neck and caress the soft stubble of his undercut, which makes Sukuna groan softly into your kiss. Before long, the Santa hat on his head falls to the ground, but neither of you cares.

Not when Sukuna's kiss is so sweet and enticing. Not when his kiss is your personal Christmas miracle.

Sukuna's fingers caress your jaw, a firm but tender touch. Just like his kiss is passionate and gentle at the same time. A deep, slow French kiss that makes your head spin.

When the two of you pull apart, you are both grinning broadly at each other, eyes filled with wonder.

Your voice is a bit hoarse when you confess softly,

"This is really the best Christmas Eve date I ever had."

Sukuna's grin grows even wider at your words,

"I am the best choice for a date all year."

"In that case, I think we should go on many more dates."

"Anything you wish, princess. I told you, my favorite customer gets anything she wants from me."

You roll your eyes, but you can't hide how pleased you are, brimming with happiness, lips lifted in a smile and eyes shining brightly. Before Sukuna can go on even more about how perfect he is, you quickly lean over the table again and shut him up with another kiss.

The other customers are forgotten. The only thing you know are warm maroon eyes and soft lips and a smug smirk that turns into a beautiful smile when you caress the tattoos on Sukuna's cheek.

It's getting late, and gradually all the couples around you leave the coffee shop to head home or to go see the Christmas lights.

And then there are only you and Sukuna left. He joins you on your side of the table. And soon after, you find yourself sitting on his lap, with Sukuna's strong arms wrapped tightly around you, his warm solid body pressed against yours, and his lips moving on yours in slow sensual kisses that taste like gingerbread spice and cinnamon.

You send a silent thank you to your original date, who decided to ditch you. Because, after all, Sukuna was right. He really is the better date. The best one you could have ever wished for.

Your perfect Christmas gift.

Thank you so much for reading my Christmas story!! I hope you enjoyed barista Sukuna :) He definitely baked his way into my heart! I didn't plan for this story to get so long, but I couldn't stop writing. All the Christmas fluff with Kuna made me feel so happy and warm! I hope he can make your December sweeter too! If you are lonely on Christmas, you can count on barista Sukuna to make you feel better.

A big thank you again to Loni for hosting this amazing collab! It's such a sweet idea!!

Please let me know how you like barista Sukuna! Comments and reblogs make me happy :)

#sukuna x reader #sukuna fluff #sukuna #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #ryomen sukuna

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the-offside-rule · 7 months

Text

Lando Norris (McLaren) - Santa's Helper

Requested: yes

Warnigs: cute Christmas stuff

Lando dropped his bags on the floor to his childhood home. Once the season was over, he would always do the same; pack his bags, enough clothes for the month of December to stay with his family until the New Year when he'd have to go back to the factory. "Lando? Is that you?" his mother called from the kitchen. "Yeah mum, I'm here." Lando began walking towards the kitchen when a heavenly smell hit him. The scent of freshly baked goods and cinnamon lingered in his nostrils. "What are you cooking?" Lando asked, walking into the kitchen but stopped dead in his tracks as he saw her sitting at the table, a mug of tea in hand and a cast on her foot. "Mum? What happened?" Lando asked, worried as anything. "I had an accident the day before your race and I didn't want you to worry." she smiled. "Well I'm worrying now, mum!"

"Cisca? Are you alright?" Lando and his mum turned to the door and saw a girl walk in. "I heard the front door open-" She met eyes with Lando and smiled. "You must be Lando. Cisca talks a lot about you." Lando was too stunned to speak (had to add a tik tok reference I'm sorry) She chuckled. "Well, I should take these biscuits out then. Can't let them burn." The girl smiled, turning towards the oven. Lando couldn't take his eyes off her and his mum could tell. "Lando? Can you help me into the living room please?" his mother asked. Lando snapped out of his thoughts and came back to reality. "Oh, yeah. Sure." He helped her up and began walking out with her slowly, not saying anything until they were out of the kitchen.

"You need to stop staring at the poor girl." she joked. "I wasn't staring. I just didn't know we had a visitor for Christmas." Cisca chuckled to herself. "She's quite pretty, isn't she?" Lando felt himself nodding but stopping himself immediately. "Who is she?" he asked. "Y/n. Our neighbour down the avenue. She's been helping me with gardening and cooking since I hurt myself." Lando's eyebrows knotted in confusion. "What? What about the old woman done the road? I though she was our neighbour." He said. "She passed away in June, remember?" Lando nodded. "That's her grand daughter." Lando looked back at her, quickly moving the hot biscuits to a plate to cool. "So she's staying down at the house?" Cisca nodded. "She is. Will I see you bringing the dog for a walk down by her house every morning then?" Lando shook his head. "Absolutely not." Cisca wasn't buying it. Lando obviously liked Y/n quite a lot from the few seconds they had briefly seen eachother. "Then maybe riding the horses. She does it every evening with Flo." Lando wasn't big into horse riding or doing show jumping or anything but for a hot minute, he was considering doing some horse riding in the mornings he was there. "Nah, I'm here to relax, not run around doing horse riding." Cisca raised her eyebrow. "You say that but I know for a fact you will ask Flo once you don't see me."

Over the few weeks that Lando was at the Norris household, Y/n would always come in at the crack of dawn to bring the horses for a walk and help Flo and then, after lunch, she would return with some food she picked up from the town's Christmas market. After that, she would help around for a while and leave before coming back after dinner just to check up on them. He loved when she came around and even more so when they'd share little conversations.

When Christmas Day had rolled around, Lando woke up bright and early, expecting Y/n to come on up to the house. He waited and waited. 6am. She wasn't coming. 7am. Wasn't coming either. It had gotten to about 8 in the morning and Y/n hadn't walked up the avenue. "Lando! Come on down!" he heard his father call up. He walked down the stairs to see Flo putting on her layers of jackets so she wouldn't get cold on her morning ride and Lando decided to go. "Flo? Would I be able to go on a horse ride today?" Flo looked at him, visibly confused. "You never go horse riding. What's the catch?" Lando shrugged his shoulders. "A change of heart maybe. It's Christmas, I wanna spend some time with you."

"Looking for Y/n?" Flo grinned. "Oh shut up. I'm not looking for her, just wondering where she is. Isn't she the one who usually does this with you?" Lando asked, trying to steer the conversation in another way. "Well yes, but she's staying with her boyfriend for Christmas." Lando felt a tug at his heartstrings. "Huh, didn't know she had one." In an attempt to try and make himself sound u bothered, he ended up sounding immensely hurt. "Are you alright Lando?" Flo asked him. "Yeah, of course. Why wouldn't I be?" Flo knew Lando well enough to know he was in fact feeling down and she could figure out why too. "How about we go back and get some tea? It's getting way too cold out here." Lando nodded in agreement and followed her back, not a word being shared.

That day went so slowly. Without anything for Lando to anticipate on, or look forward to, it was far too slow of a day. Later in the evening, the whole family were sat around the table for Christmas Dinner. They pulled at the Christmas crackers, put on the hats and overall had a good time but Lando still felt something not quite right. He'd spent every Christmas with his family, always with the same people but this year it was as if a family member was missing or something. Everyone was grabbing whichever delicacies they wanted, ready to eat when the doorbell went. Lando stood up. "I'll get it, go on eating." Lando set his cutlery to the side and walked out to the front door, undoing the locks and then opening the door. He froze. Not because of the temperature outside but because of the person standing at the door. "Y/n? What are you doing here?"

"Hi Lando. Mind if I come in? It's freezing out here." Lando moved aside and let her walk on in. He looked at her, subconsciously smiling but then his face dropped. Outside, it was dark so he couldn't see her very well but enough to make out who she was. Now she was inside, full of light, he noticed her red, puffy eyes. More than likely from crying. "Are you alright?" Her bright smile, slowly faded into a frown and then, the tears came back. "Aw, what's wrong?" he pulled her into a hug as her tears stained his jumper. "I- I don't know why he decid-ded to- I didn't- do anything." she sobbed. "What happened?" he asked her. Y/n looked up to her. "He dumped me." Lando pulled her in for a hug again. "I'm so sorry.

"Here, how about you come in for Christmas Dinner?" Y/n's jaw dropped. "Oh my god, I forgot it was Christmas." Lando laughed. "It's alright, just come in and eat something." Lando began taking her coat off and then hanging it up. "Lando, I'll just go back to mine until tomorrow, really-"

"No, come on." Lando took her hand in his and tried bringing her into the dining room but she stopped him. "Let me wash my face. I don't want to go in looking like I cried." Lando nodded and walked to the bathroom with her. He stood outside, waiting for her to finish up and when she came back out, she looked fresh as a daisy. "You feeling alright now?" she nodded. "Yeah, let's go then."

After dinner, Lando sat at the porch his family jumped around, dancing in the garden. He could only smile and watch it all happen. "Not goin to join your family?" Lando heard a soft voice from behind him. He turned his head to see Y/n walking out the door, shivering as she met the cold air. "Nah, not one for dancing." He explained. She nodded. "Would you like to dance?" Lando locked eyes with her. Y/n smiled softly at him. "Of course. Only if you teach me though." She grinned and took his hand into hers, before starting a swaying movement. "That's all there is to dancing? I Should've done this ages ago." Y/n shook her head, laughing away to herself. "No, you muppet. I'm starting slowly."

"Can we keep it like this? I like dancing like this." She let out a sigh and greed and so they continued on swaying. They were joking, laughing, dancing. It was pure bliss and then her head rested on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. He liked this feeling of belonging. He liked being around the people he loved and with someone whom he hoped to love. "Lando?" He hummed in response. "Thank you for earlier." Lando smiled to himself. "Don't mention it. Friends have to look out for eachother, don't we?" She grinned and looked up to him. "Hopefully I see a bit more of you when I'm helping around at the house." Lando laughed. "You're like Santa's helper. Like a little elf."

"I like being an elf. It means I get to meet some great people." She paused. "People like yourself." Lando felt his cheeks heating up. "I'm gonna say likewise." He chuckled. Y/n's phone buzzed. She looked at it and sighed. "I have to go. I forgot I have to drive to my mum's tomorrow so I'm gonna get an early night." She walked back inside and grabbed her coat, returning a minute later, all wrapped up like she was a matter of hours ago. "Call me when you get there." Lando said, walking along with her. "I don't have your number so I'll ring the house phone." She said. "Yeah, you can ask for my number then." She stopped and blinked at him. "What?"

"Merry Christmas Lando." Lando embraced her. "Merry Christmas." He whispered back. "Just drive safely." She scoffed. "I wouldn't tell me to drive safely. I've seen you drive." Lando chucked at her light hearted joke. "I get paid to, there's a difference." She smiled. "I'll talk to you soon, Lando." She said. "I look forward to it." and with that, Y/n walked away in the snow, her figure becoming more faded and faded until she couldn't be seen at all.

#f1 blurb #f1 imagine #f1 oneshot #f1 oneshots #lando norris one shot #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris imagines #lando norris #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x oc

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strangersmunsons · 6 months

Text

christmas wrapping

“When what to my wondering eyes should appear in the line is that guy I’ve been chasing all year!” eddie munson x reader, ~1500 words

“I love the holidays, I love Christmas,” you mutter to yourself through gritted teeth as you wrestle with the roll of icy-blue paper. Cartoon snowmen and polar bears stare back at you with their unmoving little eyes, mocking your frustration.

Gift wrapping isn’t your strong suit. It’s like as soon as you pick up the scissors, you lose all motor function in your hands. The presents you hand out end up covered in more Scotch tape than they are actual paper.

Armed with a pair of big kitchen shears, you glide the blade as carefully as possible through the paper. The rectangle you’re trying to cut is almost free from the roll when the paper snags, and instead of following the clean line you were aiming for, it wrinkles and veers to the side, leaving you with a huge shred in the corner.

An angry squeal escapes from your lips and you set the scissors down on the plush living room rug. You close your eyes and count to five, taking deep breaths in an effort to calm yourself down.

You swear you’re not usually this grumpy during the holidays. But it seems like everything that you normally love doing in the buildup to Christmas has just been so terribly exhausting.

First, there was a new promotion at work. While the better pay was wonderful, you were slightly unprepared for the extra stress that came with your new position. Every day it felt like you were scrambling to stay on top of everything, putting in extra hours just to make sure nothing slipped through the cracks. It left you with hardly any time to get your shopping done, so you ended up having to take multiple trips to the department store — always just before it closed, God bless retail employees for having the restraint not to kill you right where you stood — wandering around to try and pick out suitable gifts for everyone. Not to mention that there are a few you ordered from a catalogue, which are still nowhere to be seen, despite the fact that it’s Christmas Eve and you needed them like, yesterday.

As if all this wasn’t hectic enough, you had been positively bombarded with invitations. Three separate work parties — office, departmental, and company-wide. Then dinner and drinks with the coworkers you actually like. White elephant with your buddies from college. Ornament exchange with the cousins from your Mom’s side, Secret Santa with the cousins from your Dad’s side. A Christmas movie night with your childhood friends.

The list went on.

Finally, you’d put your foot down. No more parties, no more “fun holiday activities” that were starting to give you more anxiety than joy — you needed a fucking break.

That’s how you ended up alone on Christmas Eve, finishing up the last of your gift-wrapping. Soon you would tuck the final present under your tree, then stick the world’s smallest turkey into the oven, and lay on the couch waiting for it to be done, all in beautiful solitude. You even took the phone off the hook, just in case.

After another brief struggle, you finally manage to cut a substantial amount of paper to cover this last gift. You fumble with the box and clumsily wrap it up, sealing it with copious amounts of tape. There’s a flood of relief that washes through you when it's finally under the tree; it’s as though a weight has been lifted off of your shoulders.

When that’s finished, you bustle about in the kitchen to make your dinner for one. Bing Crosby croons in the background as you make small portions of your favorite holiday foods, and the sweet fragrance of a cinnamon-scented candle helps boost your mood even further. Gentle snow flurries whirl outside the window.

The afternoon passes by in peace, until you hit one little roadblock: you forgot the cranberries. You lean with your hip against the kitchen counter, tapping a rhythm on the tile with your nails while you debate your next move. Dinner without them isn’t a huge deal, really, you suppose you could do without them, but…there does happen to be a 24-hour grocery store that should still be open. And it’s only a few minutes drive…

Hey, what the hell. You’re rather partial to cranberries.

So you grudgingly slip your feet into your boots, and get bundled up in your winter coat. You jam a woolly hat on your head, sling your purse over your shoulder, and head out the door.

In less than ten you’re at the store. It’s swamped with other last-minute shoppers like yourself, all looking to buy that last ingredient they forgot, eager to return home to their families and friends. There’s a pang in your heart as you watch them mill about; maybe you were being too rash when you decided to spend Christmas Eve alone. Maybe you shouldn’t have let the stress of the season get to you.

God, you feel like the Grinch. Or worse — Ebenezer Scrooge.

You sigh as you pluck a can of cranberries from the shelf, and then unenthusiastically make your way to the checkout aisle. The line is long, clogged up as the overworked cashiers try their best to deal with the onslaught of antsy customers as best they can.

You’re so busy internally sympathizing with the employees (and also feeling guilty for adding to their burden by being there yourself), you almost don’t feel the light tap on your shoulder.

You turn on your heel in surprise, and experience a squirm of pleasure when you see who it is: Eddie Munson.

Eddie Munson, who you met about a year ago and liked immensely, but still somehow…failed to make something happen with.

It wasn’t for lack of trying! The two of you had met at a bar where his band had been playing a show; when it was over, he bought you a drink and you talked through the rest of the night, until the bartender all but kicked you out. He left you with his phone number and a kiss on the cheek. You wanted to find time for him, you really did, but it had been a busy year.

You played phone tag for months, always trying to set something up, but never managed to follow through. Life had a funny habit of getting in the way. Even when you two bumped into each other in person again — and it happened more than once — there never seemed to be a time when you were both free. The exception of course being last Halloween, when he was supposed to pick you up for a party, which you're sure would have been a blast...if his car hadn't broken down and derailed you yet again.

And then, when you got your promotion, your love life went on the back burner. Any prospects of going on a date with Eddie pretty much flew out the window.

But now here he is, in the flesh. And God, is he cute.

His hair is damp and a little disheveled, probably the result of snowflakes catching in the curls and melting. He’s not wearing a hat, but there’s a red knit scarf knotted around his neck, trailing down his big black overcoat.

“Hey, you,” he says, rosy cheeks dimpling as he gives you a huge smile.

“Hi,” you reply brightly, overwhelmed with sudden happiness. “Merry Christmas.”

“And you as well, sweetheart. Forgot the cranberries, I see,” he says, pointing at the lone can clutched in your gloved fingers.

“Guilty,” you shrug, unable to keep the silly grin off your face.

He laughs, and his chocolate-brown eyes crinkle at the corners. “Well, I can hardly tease you for that, now can I?” He fishes around in the plastic shopping basket hanging from the crook of his arm, and comes up with an identical can.

“Would you look at that? Great minds think alike. Or don’t think alike, I guess.”

“Truer words were never spoken.”

The two of you inch forward in the line.

“So, you got big plans this Christmas or what?” he asks, eyes twinkling.

“Actually, no,” you admit. “I’ll visit my family tomorrow, but for tonight it’s just me. I love the holidays, I do, but I just didn’t have it in me to go all-out this year.”

Eddie stops midstep. “You’re spending Christmas Eve alone?”

You shrug uncertainly, once again doubting your plans. “Yeah.”

He cocks his head to the side, playful smirk on his lips. “What a coincidence. So am I.” He shakes the grocery basket, contents rattling around inside. “S’why I came to get the goods. I’m fending for myself tonight.”

You’re a little taken aback by that. “Really? What about your uncle?”

“Wayne? Well, his, ah, lady friend invited him to her family dinner up near Indianapolis. They invited me to tag along, but I said no. Didn’t wanna impose.”

“Oh. I see.”

In a moment’s pause, some understanding passes between the two of you. Eddie busts out laughing again, and you don’t have to ask him what’s funny.

Giggling yourself now, you straighten up and look him square in the face. “Eddie,” you say, trying and failing to keep your tone serious, “Would you like to join me for dinner?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

Eddie abandons his shopping basket. (You’ve no idea what he’d been planning on making, exactly; you glimpsed a package of hamburger helper and a jar of pickles, amongst other things.)

But he does insist on paying for your cranberries.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson reader insert #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x gender neutral reader #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson christmas fic #eddie munson holiday fic

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a-random-weeb · 7 months

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Mha general relationship headcannons

idk, I don't normally write for MHA, but I wanna start, so here are some headcannons for the men

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚ ༘`✦ ˑ ִָ 𓂃⊹✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚ ༘`✦ ˑ ִָ 𓂃⊹✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚

Todoroki:

•I just know his left side is incredibly warm and cozy to cuddle into

•But his right side is awesome in the summer

•Hes so awkward to date 😭

•He doesn't know how to act most of the time, and probably does and says a lot of dumb stuff

•He has a cute blushing face after though

•He takes you on mall/restaurant dates a lot and maxes out Endeavors credit card

•Hes constantly giving you gifts

•I just know he loves arts and crafts, he probably buys a lot of them and you guys do them in the living room

•I swear to god this man still believes in Santa and shit like that, it's probably just best to play along at that point 😭💀

•I feel like he's really, really similar to Akutagawa to date, they're most awkward emo cinnamon rolls

°•｡♡˚ ༘`+.′°•｡♡˚ ༘`+.′°•｡♡˚ ༘`+.′°•｡♡˚ ༘`+.′°•｡♡˚ ༘

Bakugou:

•He won't even let you hold his hand at first, and will get really mad when you try

•Is this because he dislikes you? No, he loves you, he's just so insecure about his sweaty hands

•Eventually, when you find out about this and comfort him, saying it's fine and you don't care, he's constantly touching you

•Holding hands, hugging you, holding you by your waist, ect.

•He absolutely loves bathing together (When you're adults ofc)

•Cuddles with Bakugou>>>

•He loves to hold you on top of him with your face in his chest/neck

•Bakugou is the epitome of jealous

•He gets jealous over everyone

•If you ever even look at broccoli boy Deku, he will be furious

•If you're cold or some shit, he's the type to give you his jacket, not in the cute kind of way, in the "PUT THIS ON AND KEEP IT ON OR I BLOW YOUR FACE OFF" kind of way

‧*•˚ ❀ °☆ ˚+.‧*•˚ ❀ °☆ ˚+.‧*•˚ ❀ °☆ ˚+.‧‧*•˚ ❀

Idk what else to write, it's kind of hard to write for other characters. Sorry I didn't post yesterday, I'm currently experiencing slight writer's block, as well as uni is hectic so...

213 notes · View notes

always-andromeda · 6 months

Text

⋆⁺. ❅ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 ❅ .⁺⋆

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⟡ Joel Miller x F!Reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ⟡ 3.6k

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ⟡ With Sarah away for the holidays for the first time ever, Joel is stuck without a single clue as to what to do for Christmas. That is when you decide to show him the most wonderful time of all. ♡

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ⟡ Hey, Jana (@janaispunk)!! I'm your Secret Santa!! I really liked your prompts, so I ended up going with a little bit of almost all of them. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to write some absolute tooth rotting fluff and hopefully you enjoy some of the creative liberties I took!! I am a massive fan of your writing so I hope from the bottom of my heart that you enjoy this little piece!! Happy Holidays!! (divider credits go to @saradika-graphics)

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ⟡ absolute fluff, bits of angst (Joel misses his daughter and has a hard time adjusting ;-;), no actual smut but there are a few suggestive moments (regardless, minors, please do not interact), no outbreak universe, mentions of Sarah sprinkled throughout but no mentions of Ellie whatsoever, mentions of alcohol consumption, non-religious celebration of Christmas, overall it's a decent helping of fluff with Joel learning to enjoy the holidays in a new way.

Sarah wasn’t coming home for Christmas.

When she had first called to deliver the news, Joel hadn’t known how to reply. He gave a curt affirmation and listened to go on about Christopher and everything pertaining to him. Christopher’s sister was going to take her shopping. Christopher’s parents owned horses. Christopher was going to take her to see a production of A Christmas Carol after having dinner at one of the nicest restaurants in town. Christopher, Christopher, Christopher.

The protective father in him was glad. Hell, he was overjoyed that she’d managed to find a guy who was so good to her. But the lonely, single father in him was…deflated.

For two decades she’d been home for the holidays. Year by year, no matter what changed, she was the one constant. There she was, dragging him off the couch to make cookies – because no matter how old she got, Sarah always insisted upon leaving some out for Santa. They’d watch Christmas movies and drink hot chocolate and for that moment in time…everything was wonderful. It didn’t matter how the business was doing or what kind of trouble Tommy had gotten himself into. Joel had his little girl. And for the longest time, he told himself that that was all he needed.

He tried not to let it bother him too much. Work kept him busy enough. He took pride in being one of the few contractors in town who’d take work with the holidays looming so closely. But he knew he wouldn’t be able to avoid the celebration forever. Especially when you started questioning, “What are we doing this year?”

For the last two years you’d joined him and Sarah on their yearly tradition: takeout and Christmas movies. It had been the time of his life, spending Christmas Eve with his favorite girls and waking up to you beside him on Christmas morning while Sarah made cinnamon rolls. And before Christopher came into the picture, he could’ve replayed that Christmas over and over again and he never would’ve gotten sick of it.

The first time you asked about plans, he evaded it, giving some vague excuse about not knowing what his schedule was going to look like.

The days flew by and your tone grew more impatient until one day, while you sat in the passenger seat of his truck, your question turned into, “Joel, what’s going on?”

He’d just pulled into his driveway. If he wanted, he could dodge the question again. He could get out of the truck and slam the door behind him, putting an end to the conflict before it even had the chance to begin.

Then he risked a glance at you. Already, your brow was furrowing in frustration. A solid pang of guilt thumped heavily in his chest. He really couldn’t afford to avoid this one.

“I just–” he hesitated, not knowing how to word it; not wanting to embarrass himself. “Usually Sarah would be home and–”

“Oh…” you trailed off, obviously detected.

Joel quickly added, “I’m sorry. I’m just used to her bein’ here.” You still wouldn’t meet his eye. He softened his tone before carefully taking your hand in his. “Listen, darlin’, it’s not that I don’t wanna spend the holidays with you. Believe me, I do. It’s just that I haven’t had a holiday without that girl in so long. I ain’t even sure what I’m supposta’ do.”

You nodded solemnly, voice quiet but rigid as you replied, “I get that.”

Joel sighed. “I raised that girl for her entire life. Every year I had to figure out what a girl her age might want for Christmas. An’ every single year she’d get all excited waitin’’ for Christmas mornin’. Gettin’ to see that girl smile as she opened up her presents…I don’t think I’ll ever forget that.”

Finally, you spared him a look as he stared off into space, his eyes getting a tad misty from the memories.

He met your gaze, smiled wistfully, and swallowed the lump in his throat, “I just miss my little girl. I don’t know what else to do.”

“I’m sorry, Joel.” You squeezed his hand reassuringly and managed to put on a smile with pursed lips. Even if you didn’t understand exactly how he felt, he was grateful for the compassion. If he had told Tommy or one of the guys on his crew…hell, he didn’t think he’d have been able to express it in the first place.

But they wouldn’t have accepted those emotions like that. Tommy especially probably would’ve offered to take him out for a few drinks later to forget about it all. And sometimes Joel didn’t mind that. But something told him that this wasn’t something Joel could just drink to forget about.

You continued suddenly, “How would you feel if I came up with some activities for just the two of us? Every day this week leading up to Christmas, we’ll do one thing. And you can opt out on whatever days you want if you have something else in mind. Let’s just have a quiet, gentle Christmas, okay?”

Sarah was only going to get older. And if things with Christopher went well enough…there were going to plenty of Christmases without her to come. Joel had to accept that sooner rather than later.

And that was how the so-called Wonderful Week began.

Day one was simple enough, or so it seemed.

In all of his grief, Joel hadn’t really thought to put up the Christmas tree. After all, that was something he usually did with Sarah. And he’d done a pretty damn good job at avoiding anything relating to her for the first half of December. But if there was any hallmark of the season, a tree was most definitely the big one.

So he wasn’t incredibly surprised when he came home from work to see a massive box sitting in his living room.

“Hey, what’s this box for?” he called out in the house as he set his keys down in the dish beside the front door.

You emerged from the kitchen, smiling ear to ear, two whiskey glasses filled with a milky substance in your hands.

“Hey, you!”

“Hey?” Joel cocked an eyebrow, noticing the bright red Santa hat on your head. “What the hell do we have here?”

That only seemed to make you smile wider. Your eyes lit up as you walked across the living room and handed him one of the whiskey glasses. “What we have…is a brand new Christmas tree,” you answered proudly, pausing and waiting for his reaction.

Joel only squinted before stating, “I still got a perfectly good tree in the garage that you coulda’ dragged out.”

“Perfectly good?”

“Perfectly good,” he affirmed.

“Joel, remember when we put that thing up last year? Almost all of the lights were completely burnt out. Remember how we had to go buy a separate string of lights? And remember how much you hated putting them on and taking them off? You’ve had that old thing since–”

“Since Sarah was little,” he answered curtly.

“Yeah…” you trailed off. Your smile turned sheepish and Joel could practically see the gears turning in your mind, wondering if you’d stepped over the line.

Joel shot another hard glance at the box that sat smack dab in the middle of his living room. It seemed to challenge him. Was he really going to get this hung up over an old tree? Or was he going to take this opportunity in stride?

He looked back at you. You and your little Santa hat with the white puff ball at the end resting elegantly on your shoulder. Then there were your hands, nervously fiddling with the smooth edges of your whiskey glass. His gaze swept up to your hope-filled eyes that were awkwardly searching him for some sign of tension. He couldn’t be upset at any of that. You were only trying to cheer him up. What kind of Grinch would he be to get upset with a creature as gorgeous and lovely as you?

With a deep breath, Joel spoke, “Well. If we’re gonna put this thing together tonight…might as well get started, I suppose.”

At that, your whole being seemed to practically glow. You set your drink down on the coffee table before making your way to the box to cut at the tape holding it closed.

Joel took a swig of his drink. Egg-nog spiked with something. Another sip made him realize it was Kahlúa. He snickered and shook his head.

That was another little thing you’d gotten him into. Joe was firmly a hard liquor sort of guy until you insisted that if he liked plain coffee, he should at least try coffee liqueur. Sure enough, he liked it. Most of the time you were right about stuff like this. And here you were doing it all over again with this silly tree.

Before too long, you’d both lifted each section of the tree from its cardboard confines and nestled them on top of each other before locking them into place. Joel normally hated fluffing out the tree, and it certainly wasn’t made any better considering it was fresh out of the box. But the liqueur and the Christmas music you’d turned on and had softly playing in the background added a little ease to the task.

The best part was definitely adding the ornaments. Thankfully, you’d stuck with the old box of ornaments that he’d kept beside the old tree in the garage. For a moment he was grateful you hadn’t gone as far as getting brand new ornaments too.

He liked the old ones ten times more than he liked the old tree.

Of course there were random filler baubles in various shades of red, green, silver, and gold. But the ones that got to him were the handmade ones. Some of those went back thirty or even forty years. He pulled out a flat clay sculpture of a dog painted in blue that had faded significantly over the decades. Joel ran his finger over the words on the back.

Thomas Miller, 1980

Tommy had only been seven years old. His art teacher had just fired all of the ceramic ornaments the kids made before going off for winter break. Joel only vaguely remembered the day his little brother came home with that ornament in hand. But he remembered all too well how every year since he’d hit adulthood his brother would take a little glance at the little sculpture and proclaim that it was the best goddamn thing he’d ever made with his own two hands.

“Because I made it for my big brother,” he’d say in a faux sentimental tone. But underneath the machismo and the teasing, Joel knew that it really did mean a great deal to Tommy. Which was why he was still hanging it up thirty years later.

However, the next one made him stop in his tracks. Joel carefully pulled the ornament out from under a layer of bubble wrap. Though it was also made by Tommy,

Sarah’s first Christmas hadn’t been the easiest. Her mother had just left and money was tight. Joel had been taking every job he possibly could to scrape together money for rent and the necessities. Tommy was still in high school and had his own life to live, yet he always offered to babysit Sarah after he got out of class.

That year, Joel hadn’t had the time to worry about the holidays. Little did he know that Tommy had been saving up since Halloween to get a little tree and some cheap plastic ornaments. But the cherry on top of it all was the one other ornament that Tommy made.

It was a small circle of clay, just big enough to fit in the palm of his hand. Right in the center was a little footprint. Words carved into the clay underneath it said: Sarah’s First Christmas, 1988.

Joel could picture it then, fifteen year old Tommy carefully pressing his niece’s foot into the clay before rewarding her with Cheerios. That period of time forged them into something greater than brothers, Joel thinks. It made them Sarah’s protectors. The ones who would always make sure she was taken care of. And no matter how old she got, that would always be true.

Right as tears started welling in his eyes from the memory, he felt your hand brush his shoulder. “You alright, Joel?” you spoke softly.

“Look at this one,” he answered hoarsely before showing you the ornament.

To his delight, you smiled tenderly and asked, “Where did that come from?”

Much of the night went that way with Joel telling stories about the various ornaments that were in his box and you telling stories about the ones that were in yours. After another drink, he found himself loosening up even more.

The two years prior hadn’t exactly been like this. Both of those Christmases happened before you’d moved in. Back then you were merely observing his and Sarah’s celebrations. This year was different though. This time…you and him were making up your own celebrations.

In the days following, Joel found himself looking forward to whatever you had planned. It was a relief to know at the end of a long day, he’d get to come home to you waiting with some new trick up your sleeve.

Day two immediately presented a challenge in the form of two gingerbread house kits. Because, you argued, who better to construct a gingerbread house than a contractor? Joel couldn’t help but snicker and roll his eyes when you pulled out a level and the tape measure from his tool kit.

“Think you got this wall straight, Miller?” you joked, holding the level up to the solid cookie wall.

“You’re funny.”

“Just making sure everything is all even,” you shrugged. “One would hope that the big fancy contractor would care that his gingerbread house was up to code.”

Day three was a bit of an unexpected one. You finally got him to load up the boxes of old clothing and other odds and ends that had been gathering dust in his garage for far too long. Joel kept telling himself he’d donate them some weekend but continually forgot. So of course you were the one to remind him by remarking how important it was to give a little for the holidays.

It was a little bittersweet, especially since a good chunk of it was stuff Sarah had gotten rid of before moving out for college. Joel was all too aware that there was a small part of him that feared that the second he gave it all away, his daughter would definitely be calling him up just begging to have that butterfly tank top she wore in fifth grade back. But he also knew that that probably wasn’t going to happen.

So bye-bye went the dusty boxes of hand-me-downs, off to homes that could appreciate them again.

Day four brought popcorn garlands. He opted out of spiked drink for that one, knowing that he needed a steady hand if he was going to be able to thread delicate little pieces of popcorn onto some string. However, with his thick fingers, he still managed to poke himself with the crafting needle.

And really, making the garland was soon forgotten by the dozenth time you grabbed his injured hand to kiss it better. Joel really didn’t need any sort of alcohol in his system to start feeling lightheaded before pulling you into his lap for a bruising kiss.

By the end of the night, both of your garlands were only long enough to hang in a single doorway. But that was just fine with Joel.

Day five was Christmas Eve. Another night where he was sure you had something big planned – he later learned that you originally wanted to make Christmas cookies. But Joel was never any good with the whole cooking and baking thing. And tonight seemed as good of a night as any to take a load off.

“What will Santa eat when he comes down the chimney?” you protested in a teasing tone.

Joel scoffed, “Santa can starve for all I care. Tonight, I want to settle down and relax with my lady.”

“Lady,” you rolled your eyes. “Who are you calling lady?”

“You, Little Miss Christmas. Now go put your pajamas on. We’re gonna have a nice night in and you’re gonna like it.”

You laughed one deep laugh from your belly and replied, “Yes, sir.”

The next time you showed your face downstairs, Joel had planted himself firmly on the carpet with a box of old photos.

“Whatcha’ got there?” you asked as you folded your legs and settled beside him, resting your head on his shoulder.

Joel glanced over, catching the tail end of a wide eyed expression on your face as you peeked over his shoulder.

“What’s that look for?” he chuckled.

Joel tilted the photo in your direction. It was a picture of you and him from the year prior; the second Christmas you spent with him. You were ice skating, Joel standing firmly behind you, one hand placed firmly on your hip and the other wrapped around you, keeping you from completely falling over.

“I didn’t know you got a picture from that night,” you mumbled.

“Oh,” Joel set the photo down and picked up a small, leather bound album from the box in front of him. “Sarah took a whole buncha’ pictures that night. They’re some of my favorites.”

“Really?”

Joel didn’t miss the sentimentality in your tone. He himself had almost forgotten that Sarah had brought her camera along that year. She’d taken a photography class during her freshman year of college; so it was practically attached to her almost every time she came home that semester.

She’d surprised him with the album a few months afterwards, raving about how adorable you and him had looked the entire night. I’ve never seen you get so sappy about a woman before, she’d teased him before adding, but it’s kinda cute, ya know?

Joel had brushed it off then, putting it with the rest of his old family photos. But over time it quickly began to mean something more.

He’d lost count of how many times he’d pulled that little book out and flipped through the photos. And now, for the first time you were looking at them with him.

“Really,” he asserted. “You look real pretty in all of ‘em.”

And God, did he mean it. On the next page was one of you wearing this red, satin number at a dinner party. He could easily remember the way that the material practically flowed down your curves like water. And he remembers the way his attraction for you pooled heavily in his belly and the way he had to make himself stay cool until he could get you home and get that outfit off of you himself.

The shot right next to that one was from the same dinner party. Joel had a can of whipped cream in one hand and a dollop of the stuff in the other. And there you were, attempting to lick at the smear of whipped cream on your nose.

He showed you the album and you grimaced before smiling sheepishly, “God, I can’t believe Sarah got that moment.”

God, that smile, Joel thought to himself. He could never get tired of that smile.

“Yeah,” Joel nodded. “I’m glad she did. I tell ya’, that girl can really capture the beauty in a moment.”

You started to speak, “You say beauty…I say–”

“Beauty,” Joel repeated. “You’re beautiful. And that’s that.”

You were quiet for a few seconds as Joel continued to flip through the album. The more little moments he remembered from the year before, the more gratitude welled up in his chest. And before he could really control it, his mouth was moving.

“You know I’m glad I get to spend time with you, right?”

“Oh, that’s good. After last night I was sure that you were just sick of me,” you quipped.

“I mean it,” Joel said with a playful nudge at your side. “I know I’m not the easiest guy to get along with. I’m old and I’m ornery and I’m probably a real pain in the neck sometimes. And the fact that you’re willin’ to put up with a pain in the neck like me…especially around this time a’ year…it means a lot. Everything you’ve done this week…all for me? I’m grateful, darlin’.”

Your expression faltered and you batted your eyelashes, gaze fixed on your hands in your lap.

“I just like taking care of you. I like making you happy,” you murmured.

Joel turned his head and leaned in, closing the distance between your faces.

“Good thing you always make me happy, darlin’,” he mumbled against your lips.

As he pressed a kiss against your lips, his hand settled on the small of your back, pulling you into his arms. The little photo album dropped between his legs and was soon forgotten, the same way a lot of his worries for the holidays had as soon as you came in.

At that moment…he didn’t think about Sarah. Didn’t think about her never spending another holiday in his home again. She'd come back home at some point, just like his worries probably would; he’d always worry about his little girl. Though he wouldn’t forget the years of memories he’d had before you, he wouldn’t let himself dwell on them for so long that he forgot about you. Your presence was more than enough of a present for him.

#˚ʚ meda writes ɞ˚#space sisters secret santa 2023 #pedro pascal #the last of us hbo #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic

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pimosworld · 6 months

Text

Santa’s a home wrecker

Pairing-Triple Frontier boys x f!reader

Summary- A little kiss leads to a Christmas morning misunderstanding.

CW-18+, Fluff, so much fluff, Kissing Santa, Pregnancy hormones, tf boys being great parents, polyamorous relationship, navigating a mixed family.

WK-1.6K

A/N- Set in the story of us universe but obviously in the future. We jumped way ahead here folks but I hope you love this fluffy snippet into their future lives.

Not beta read

[Series Masterlist][Main Masterlist]

It’s a little easier now since they let you sleep on the end, but it’s still a chore to roll out of bed with your heavily pregnant belly in tow. You sit on the edge for a moment trying to soothe yourself as the kicks come in quick succession.

You try as quietly as you can to make your way out of the bedroom, stealing a glance at Ben’s large form sprawled across Frankie in the most uncomfortable way.

You're wrapped up in your fluffy red robe, an early Christmas gift from the boys that you’ve been living in for the last month or so while you grow out of everything else you own.

The house is quiet and warm as you shuffle down the hallway and smells like cinnamon apples from the pies you made for Christmas Day.

A peek into the spare bedroom shows you a glimpse into most of your nights when it's Santiago’s turn to put the kids down for bed.

He’s snoring in the chair that sits between Camila and little Santiago’s beds. Both children slumbering away as they dream about the most exciting day of the year.

Some rustling is coming from the living room and you round the corner to a site that will never cease to make you smile. The boys take turns being Santa every year and they never do anything halfway. Your arms are crossed as you lean against the wall staring at the rich, dark red velvet material bent over in front of the tree. Deliberately placing gifts from the giant red bag in various spots.

You let out a low whistle as you make your way towards the bearded man. “Santa has a nice ass.”

He chuckles and stands gesturing with his arms for you to come to him. It’s a bit of a struggle now to be held but he still makes you feel all warm and fuzzy as you sway in the living room in front of the lowlights of the tree. You humm as he rubs your belly, somehow the kicking stops as if the baby taking up home inside knows whose hands are caressing you.

“How’s mama doing?” He asks as he kisses your neck, the fluff from his beard tickling you slightly.

“I’m tired…someone keeps kicking me.” You sigh into his touch as he drops to his knees, his fingers kneading that spot in your back that he knows pains you throughout the day.

“Hey little guy.” He speaks so softly in some adorable voice he’s made up.

“He’s a big guy, Will…a very big guy.” You know well enough having been told ad nauseum Miller babies are big.

“Hey big guy…I need you to give your momma a rest so she can enjoy tomorrow okay?” He holds his ear to your belly and nods. When he looks up at you all you can make out is those piercing blue eyes nestled between the red hat and white beard. “He said okay.”

A small tear escapes as he kisses your belly and stands again. You can’t even blame it on the hormones.

“Go lay down, I’ll bring you some tea when I finish here.” One last kiss to your lips and he’s shooing you away so he can complete his Santa duties and enjoy his peanut butter cookies special request.

****

Frankie stacks the pancakes high on the plate next to the stove, as he moves on to the eggs and bacon.

Ben hasn’t said a word just eyeing the food as you enjoy your morning tea, surprised the kids haven’t graced you with their presence yet.

Santi’s creaking bones enter the kitchen before he’s seen as he cracks his back in the hallway. Frankie laughs from the stove as he flips the bacon perfectly somehow never burning it.

“Laugh it up hermano.” He leans down and kisses your forehead before heading over to the fresh coffee pot.

“I’m not the one that keeps falling asleep in the chair.”

You hear the sound of hurried footsteps down the hallway as Camila quickly emerges into the kitchen beaming from ear to ear. She barrels into Frankie hugging him from behind as he reaches around and ruffles her long black curls. “Buenos Días papá.”

“Buenos Días mi amor.”

Frankie kisses her forehead and she makes her way over to you and Santi to say her good mornings and receive hugs and kisses.

She climbs into Ben’s lap forgoing an open seat as she waits for breakfast to finish. The way the two of them could eat you were worried about welcoming another Miller into the household for lack of food resources.

“Good Morning daddy.” She wraps her little arms around him and it’s a feeling he’ll never get used to.

“Good morning honey.” She stole your nickname early on when she could look so sweet at them and instantly get her way.

There was a rule from the beginning that there would be no distinction unless medically necessary between the fathers. They were all fathers and that’s all that mattered.

“Sweetie, where's Santiago?” She looks slightly uncomfortable as she leans in and whispers something in Ben’s ear.

“He’s not coming?” Ben looks over to you as Santi looks to Frankie now done cooking breakfast.

She leans in again whispering something as Ben’s eyes widen. He has to bite his cheek to keep from laughing at the situation that he knows will need to be handled swiftly.

“He doesn’t want to open presents from a home wrecker.”

You’re grateful you hadn’t taken a sip of your tea or it would’ve been all over your new robe.

Frankie flicks off the stove and heads over to the table. “How do you even know that word, young lady?”

Ben leans in whispering something in her ear and she relaxes slightly.

“Well…ugh.” She’s in the hot seat by way of Santi much like her father often does to other people. You lay your hand on hers and wince slightly cursing this baby for picking the most opportune moments to make himself known.

“Camila it’s okay, you can tell me…you’re not in trouble.”

“Tia Marí said Tio John kissed a homewrecker and that’s why they’re not together anymore.” It comes out all rushed and flustered and you're trying not to giggle at her panicked confession.

Frankie points at Santi while he still looks on confused. “Your sister is off babysitting duty for a while.”

Santi scrubs his hand down his face. “I'm still not following.”

Ben places his hands over her ears so she can’t hear. “Will was Santa last night.” He grits out as she giggles.

Santiago must have woken up and seen you kissing “Santa”.

“Daddy I can’t hear anything.” He starts tickling her as she squeals in delight.

“Good because if you did, you wouldn’t get any presents.” They continue their giggles as you let out a long sigh.

“We’re gonna eat breakfast while you two go handle that.” Frankie starts serving up plates as Ben and Camila clap in excitement.

****

Santiago is face down in the blankets when you enter his room. He was a deep sleeper so it was pretty obvious when he was pretending. His little breaths are coming in shallow like he just ran here and plopped himself down.

You have a seat on the edge as Santi sits in the chair beside him.

Santi rubs his back hoping to calm him a little before he speaks. “Hey bud, you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

Inaudible mumbles come from the pillow and you bite down on your tongue at the mirror image. Payback for all the time Santi made someone chase him for a simple misunderstanding coming back ten fold.

“I didn’t hear you mijo, que pasó.” He slowly rolls him over as Santiago rubs his red eyes.

“I…don’t want…I don’t want.” He’s sniffling and Santi tries to calm him so he can catch his breath.

“Deep breaths bud.”

He shakily inhales and wipes his little hands on the blanket. “I don’t want Santa to break up our home.”

You could kill Maria for almost ruining Christmas morning, but you know one day you’ll get to tell this hilarious story to your children when they’re all grown up. You let Santiago take the reins even though you did kiss Santa. This was not your mess to clean up.

“Santiago, no one is breaking up our home. I love your mama very much.” Santiago crawls over to you as you wrap him up in your arms, kissing his unruly brown locks.

“You promise?” Your heart breaks a little as those little puppy dog eyes look up at you.

“Yes we promise.” He exhales as he relaxes in your arms and you look up at Santi incredulously.

“Santa is my friend…he’s allowed to kiss your mama.” Santiago looks up at his dad with pure shock written all over his face.

“WHAT!” He balks at him as you burst into a fit of laughter.

“HO, HO,HO…” The boisterous sound echoes down the hallway from the living room.

Santiago scrambles off your lap as you fall back with an oomph. Your belly won’t allow anymore movements like that so you succumb to the comfort of his tiny car bed, as his father chases after him.

****

Camila is standing in front of the tree as Santa hands her the first gift.

“Well hello little boy, would you like a gift from Santa?”

He runs up to him with his hands on his hips as he pokes him in the surprisingly hard belly. “Next time just drop off the gifts and go.”

Will looks up confused by his son's words as Frankie and Benny are losing it in the kitchen.

Santi stands there in the same stance.

“Don’t worry I’ll explain later.”

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