#i couldn’t have wished for a better santa

[toji-bunny-girl]

𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐓✩’𝐒 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓

CHARACTERS— Santa!Gojo Satoru x pretty sexy gorgeous fem!reader SUMMARY— Supposedly another Christmas night being lonely and horny, you’re suddenly woken up by Santa coming to claim you your Christmas gift. WORD COUNT— 3k+ CONTENT WARNING— slight angst, swearing, smut, porn with plot, virginity lost, fingering, clit sucking, oral sex, no protection A/N— Merry Christmas, my fellow bitchless angels 😔 Ya’ll better not let this shit flop or else I’m going insane. btw guys God literally told me face-to-face that my dog is cuter than your pet 😨 it’s true tho

“So,” your co-worker, Mina started as she haled the roll-up gate down, flipping her long extensions behind her shoulder before grabbing the lock from your extended hand, “got any plans this Christmas?”

“I don’t know…I’ll probably go out with my friends to the new cat cafe. You?” you watched as her fingers worked deftly to lock the gate before trying to pull it open in an attempt to make sure she got it locked.

“Kai wants to visit Ginzan Onsen, said it’ll be the best place to ‘make love’ or something. I mean, long story short he thinks it’s a cute place to fuck,” Mina apprised, always a little bit too forward with her wordings—her bold personality and style amolous from yours.

Albeit she’s amiable and kind, you still couldn’t quite get used to her blatant forwardness despite working with her for the past 5 months. And Mina loved teasing you about how sensitive you are; already blushing from the mere word ‘fuck’.

“Look at how cute you are, (Y/N). Your face is starting to get red!” she giggled, pointing as you hit her arm, feeling your cheeks warming against the cold winter air. “You know, they say the shy-est are usually the kinkiest…”

“Just leave me alone, Mina!” you embarrassingly whined, slapping a palm over her glossed lips before pushing her away. She lets out a few satisfied laughs before raising her hands up in capitulation, already knowing when to stop before you get irritated at her.

“Alright, I’m sorry, ‘kay baby?” she cooed, plump lower lips jutting out into a pout as she wrapped her arms around your waist.

“You keep teasing me,” you frowned and pushed her stubborn hands off of you before you began walking towards the train station.

“Cuz’ you’re so cute. You’re always acting like such a virgin,” her arm hung over your shoulders and your body sunk forward at the sudden weight.

“Now, is there a problem with that…” you spoke lowly, flickering your sight towards her, wary of her reaction.

“You cannot be shitting me?!” Mina widened her eyes, two elder couples turning their attention on her egregious tone, “I mean like, look at you! You’re so pretty and such a good girl. Who wouldn’t want you?! I want you!”

“I don’t know…I just haven’t met the one.”

“There’s tons of guys who want you, (Y/N)! You gotta be a little bold, get out of your shell if you wanna meet ‘your one’.”

“Man…I just wish someone perfect for me who isn’t a creep would come to me,” you sighed, your hand holding onto Mina’s dangling one over your neck. Nearing the station, you could see Kai, her boyfriend already waiting by the entrance for her—probably heading to dinner together later on.

“You’ll find one for sure,” she glanced at you, a bright reassuring smile on her face, and you returned her one before feeling the weight on your shoulders lifted when she pulled her arm away, then waved at Kai.

“So, how was work today?” the male strode over, his two hands reaching out to hold Mina’s from the pockets of his coat before turning to greet you.

“It’s fine, lots of couples today,” she replied, following as you passed the ticket gate and rode the escalator up to the platform. “And as usual, we got a few single lads asking for our pretty girl’s Line today.”

“Yeah, and you forgot to add that they’re either delinquents or high school boys,” the two couples chortled as you sighed, tired of how you’re always attracting guys who are definitely not your type.

“We’re gonna have to get security for our candy shop because of our (Y/N), huh?” Mina joked, nudging Kai’s side with her shoulder as you rolled your eyes.

Within seconds, the bells signaling the coming arrival of the train started, the train announcer apprising the next destination as Shinjuku-sanchōme—20 minutes until you reach your home station.

“Sorry, (Y/N). Kai and I are gonna ride another train to Shinbashi so we can’t go in with you,” the train had arrived and the doors slid open as workmen and women surged in like sea waves.

“No, no! It’s fine. Happy holidays, guys,” you smiled as you began to follow the crowd into the half-packed train.

“Merry Christmas, (Y/N)!” the two bid, Mina waving all the while.

“Enjoy your trip to Ginzan, you two!” you giggled, slightly waving back before jumping onto the train just as its doors began to slide close. The smell of heater and sweat filled your nose and as you swiftly scanned your sight around, you saw most smiling at their phones, probably texting their loved ones, and a few couples giggling in their seats.

Another lonely Christmas, you thought.

Your stomach was growling as you prowled the streets for the nearest convenience store. The sky was already blanketed with darkness and you thought visiting any restaurant would only mount your forlornness, so you figured a quick meal from the store would do for your hunger.

The luminously salient sign of your local convenience store caught your eyes from a distance away, and you hurriedly scorched towards the store. Entering, the cashier greeted you when the automated door slid open with a ding to announce your presence, and you nodded your head with a smile before trodding your way to the back where packed bentos were.

Your eyes raked over the bentos, looking for your favourite Katsudon to find it absent from the display. A surge of annoyance rose in you as your brow knitted into a frown, ‘Can’t even have my Katsudon, huh?’. Grabbing the nearest bento instead, you made your way to the cashier while rummaging through your bag for your wallet.

“Do you want your bento heated up, miss?” the male mooted, a serviceable smile on his face. He caught your affirmative hum before setting the food in the microwave, and silence then transpired between the two of you.

The smell of the heating fried rice pervaded through the air in the wake of the anticipated ‘ding’. The cashier took out the bento and wrapped it in a plastic bag before handing you both the plastic and a card, “Thank you for your purchase, and Merry Christmas!”

You thanked the male and claimed your things before heading out of the store with another ‘ding’, throwing the card into the plastic bag and burying your hands deep in the warmth of your pockets.

What seemed to be your wontedly peaceful route back home suddenly became a path of silent lonesomeness. At that moment, you must be colder than anyone else in Japan. While they have the love and heat of a lover to warm them up—you had no one but yourself.

The walk home was longer than usual and you immediately turned on the heater when you entered your apartment, feeling your limbs beginning to numb. Taking out a few beer cans from the fridge, you set them on the small chabudai along with your cooling packed dinner—ready to scarf down your meal.

It took you an empty bento box and two beer cans to notice the Christmas card the cashier gave you on the wooden floor, probably dropped when you took the packaged meal out of the plastic bag. You could feel yourself getting tipsy as the alcohol set in your veins, rushing to your brain and making it all light and woozy.

“Christmas…Wish?” you read the bold, cursive title aloud, eyes absorbing the contents on the card.

Write a wish on this card and Santa shall grant what you seek!

Aren’t these for kids or something? Why would the cashier give you something like this? It’s obviously fake, but for you to think of a wish…you would love to be a millionaire. Or a billionaire. Or have a pet cat. Or…

Heading to your bedroom to get your pen, you trodded back to the chabudai where the card was, taking your time to ruminate on what to write just for the fun of it. Perhaps it was the alcohol thumping in your pulse, absorbing whatever sense you have in your head as it passed your bloodstream—you found yourself injudiciously scribbling something you normally wouldn’t.

Lose my virginity. 

Fire popped beneath the skin of your cheeks as you stared at the piece of card with your writing on it. “I must have gotten insane…” you sighed, rubbing your eyebrows.

Maybe a wash would clear your head, you thought. The beer was making you drowsy and you’d better have an early night. You don’t take long with your shower and you were quick to set your things aside and take out the trash.

It was only 10 but you’ve already settled yourself in your bed, sleepiness blanketing over your head. Your eyelids began to shut, sending you to an abyss of peace and dream.

Then, there was shuffling. And mumbles.

Your consciousness drew back to reality and through your dazed state—you tried to make sense of the noises. Until you began to sober up, there was no one but you in your apartment. No pets nor roommates to be making up all these sounds.

“Who’s there?” you panicked, straining your eyes through the dark, to find a tall silhouette in your room. A sense of aghast rumbled through your being and a shriek ripped itself out of your throat.

You fumbled for something from your bedside table to act as a weapon, and the most threatening object there was was your lamp. At least you could smash it against the intruder and bolt out of your apartment for help.

And as you tried to rip the lamp’s cord out of the socket, its light turned on—revealing the stranger to be…Santa?

“(Y/N), is it?” the male chuckled, rubbing his nape.

“Who are you?!” you screamed, pointing the lamp at him. “Get out of my house, please!”

“Just relax, man. I’m Santa, here to grant you your Christmas wish!”

“Look, I’m just a broke college student! I-I don’t have anything with me. Just leave and I won’t call the cops,” you tried to reason, already starting to break down into hiccups and tears

“Well, I'm sorry. It’s my policy to not leave a house unless I’ve successfully fulfilled one’s desires. So, I won’t be leaving anytime soon!”

“W-What…?” you were beyond dumbfounded, trying to make sense of the random lunatic standing in your room.

“This,” he pointed at the card from the convenience store. “Here, your wish says…to lose your virginity,” the male cladded in his Santa suit bemusedly read aloud.

“No…! I wrote that as a joke!”

“Well, I don’t take Christmas wishes as a joke,” he lifted an eyebrow, resting his hands on his hips.

“Just cut it out, Santa isn’t real,” you retorted, tightening your grip on the handle of the lamp.

“But I am real,” his voice suddenly became closer, and more lucid, his frame had disappeared from your sight—as if he was suddenly gone and had dissipated into space. Whipping your head behind, you found him just there and a scream cracked out of your lungs as you tumbled out of your bed.

“H-How…Wha—“

“I can teleport, y’know?” he smiled, reaching out a hand to pull you up from the floor. “And I can make anything out of thin air,” his other hand rose to have a random Dior bag in his grasp as you stared, shocked and finding it hard to register the scene in front of you.

“So, you’re really…Santa Claus?”

“Yes, and my real name’s Gojo Satoru—at your service,” he slurred, and you found his voice smooth like freshly woven silk. You were silent and still, eyes widening at the white-haired male in front of you. “Speaking of your Christmas wish…”

Your face burst into florid red as you awkwardly laughed, “Could you please just forget about that?”

“Now, if you’ve read carefully; no changing or refusing of wishes once you’ve written ‘em down,” he pointed at the small text at the bottom of the card, “You must’ve missed it just now.”

Thinking over the situation, something in you cracked as you realised—you were going to lose your virginity to Santa Claus. Your eyelids twitched as you nervously chuckled. This gotta be a heck of a joke. 

“Hey, don’t underestimate me!” Gojo had caught your expression, and as if he was reading your thoughts, his eyebrows knitted into a frown.

“T-Then what are we supposed to do now?” you asked, switching your gaze away and feeling hot embarrassment tickling your skin.

“No need to worry,” Gojo gave a reassuring smirk, “just trust me.”

Alright, trust.

You felt the bed shift with his weight, and he was hovering over you—face mere inches away. His eyes seemed to sparkle like those of a diamond; blue stars orbiting in his orbs, and you note the plump shape of his lips, so visually kissable.

For the second time, as if he had caught your thoughts, he let his lips mould into yours. He felt soft and plump like peach, and he smelled like a merge of snow and warmth.

Your lips danced in the dark, and your body leaned forward towards him as he fell back, something about the kiss was unbreakable. It felt so soft, it felt so good.

You let his hands wander around your curves from underneath your pyjamas, meet the shape of your hips and dips of your waist, then the roundness of your breasts. You let him study your body with the cold tips of his fingers and slip your clothes off when he wanted to.

A soft moan slipped out of your tongue when the cold December air hit your nipples, and Gojo took no time to let his tongue play with your buds. His hands continued to roam around your body, pressing a finger against the wet spot through your pants.

“You fine with this?” he pointed at the way his fingers slid over your clothed core. You wordlessly nodded, drifting your sight away before you felt yourself benignly pushed onto your back, your pants slowly slipping off of your legs along with your panties.

You were bare, in front of a man you’ve met tonight. But at the same time, you felt oddly safe with him. This was only a wish come true and nothing more, you affirmed.

His long fingers began to reach deep inside, and your nerves tingled at where they caressed your walls. His pace switched after a few pumps and his fingers were dextrously pistoning in and out of your cunt. You could hear your erotic slick coating his digits as it follows his rhythm, and your cheeks burn hot in shyness.

His face lowered to your pussy, and his tongue began playing with your clit. A sharp mewl escaped from your lips as his cheeks hallowed from sucking on your nub and his fingers paced up over the gummy spot deep inside.

Pleasure began amassing in your nerves and you could feel yourself brimming over the edge of lucidity. Gojo didn’t stop and instead, fastened his digits in and out of you, the sound of sex was loud through your state of delirium and he was coaxing all the pleasure there was in you.

Then, you spilled. Your thighs tightened around his head, fingers gripping onto his white locks as you’re sent to a world of blank bliss. Gojo peeks up at you as you pause with your lips parted, edges of eyebrows sewn to the stars, and half a wail stayed choked in your throat.

“You alright?” he chuckled, raising his upper body to your blushed face. You didn't say a word and drove your tongue into his mouth, arms locking him closer to you. The shared heat between your two bodies warmed the air around you, and you thought maybe that’s what it feels like to have a lover.

“Yeah,” you breathed, still ever so shy yet for once, a daring timbre crawled through your tone. “I think I’m ready…”

“If princess wants it,” his lips crack into a smile against yours, pants pulled down and hand pumping his length, fat tip lined against your entrance. Peeking down, regret almost settled into your being when you saw his size. Would it fit?

Then, he saw you and reassured you that he would go slow. No need to worry and to trust. So, you did. Bashfully spreading your thighs open for him.

Your muscles squeezed when he first entered, and he let out a long groan with a pause to his hips. It took a few seconds until he began to move, this time with a thumb rolling your clit to loosen your grip. Every inch of his cock stretched into your cunt made you go almost insane—the pain that first came was soon replaced with a delicate buzz of pleasure.

His hips were slow to thrust at first, gentle and soft until your walls had adjusted to his girth. Your little moans began to fill the chilly air when he slowly started to quicken up, and the bed began to squeak along with his rhythm.

“You look so pretty, y’know?” like silk, slinking through the hot air and into your ears. Every time his curved tip kisses your G-spot, you feel blank—blank of pleasure and stimulation. He could see it in your face, always able to read your features so well.

“Mmhp—” you let out a moan when he pulled your hips closer to him, fucking deep into your squelching cunt. Your back arched from the way his cock rubbed against your walls, hands over your mouth to muffle your whines.

“I wanna hear your pretty moans, (Y/N),” Gojo teased, softly leading your hands into his before fucking himself harder, deeper inside of you.

“Nngh! Feels s-so good—haa!” your hips began to move with his, legs hugging him closer to you and the world seemed to be on vertigo. Pleasure pervaded through every single cell in your body and your blood was pumping loud in your ears. “Please, I wanna cum!”

“Whatever princess says,” you could hear the smirk in his quivering tone, and with a few deep thrusts, the coil inside of your womb snapped—and your essence wet his thighs; your shaky moans high-pitched and sharp. “Yeah, pretty girl. Just like that.”

Static shot through your nerves, and your clit throbs against the hot air. Gojo let a thumb circle your nub, rubbing it through your climax as your nails sink into the skin of his arm. You could feel the warm mix of cum slipping out of your lips, running down your skin and into the bedsheet.

Once again, you felt the bed shift, and the warmth that held you lifted away. Through your hazy sight, you saw his figure rising, “Merry Christmas, pretty.”

@coolpizzazonkplaid @byhuenii @idkmanimreallysleepy @stainednailpolishremover @jxnyi @peachtreexoxo @yaygurist @lalaloverss @aexlime @naruucore @sathavious @guillermowhatwedointheshadows @mistygrovesarchive @glittercums @altmoo @lollixgoddess @victoriak01 @kimminjulvr @ghostlyluminarycloud @satorminniett @someonewhotendstowrite @buhdussy @ichirasblog @kokomisworld @magiouu @bobbicore @xxshiino @urmommyzhot @jjkwhor3 @erostaeyong @tojisprincesa @edgyficuselastica @clemianna @fromthechaoticmind @idkcoolise @fallinlovewithbeelzebub @sirshitsalot12 @kuraa01 @awyunh @lxvegojo

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #anime #jjk #gojou satoru x reader #gojou x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #gojo smut #gojou smut #gojou satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #BUNN—nsfw

[rileyslibrary]

Ghost is forced to dress up as Santa for the day and talk to kids.

You’re ordered to tag along as his Elf and do some damage control if necessary.

———————————————————————

You lean against his armchair, watching the chaos in front of you. Children are crying, tugging at their parents’ clothes, shouting both in excitement and fear, all while looking at you. A young boy keeps waving at your lieutenant, desperate to get his attention, but Ghost is too preoccupied with coming to terms with his new reality to notice.

You return his wave with a smile.

“Try to stay still, Santa,” you remind Ghost as you nod towards the boy. “Kids are watching.”

He snaps back into focus and redirects his attention to the queue. He stretches one last time, pushing on the armrests, before settling into the chair.

“Try not to tell me what to do,” he murmurs and waves back at the child.

You straighten up and tweak your green hat, triggering the bell at its tip to jiggle in your ear. You feel for him; you really do. He’s not supposed to be here; he’s not built for this. Unfortunately—for him or the kids, you haven’t decided yet—the “real” Santa broke his hip at the last minute, and your military base stepped in to provide a new Santa for the local community.

And what better replacement than Ghost, you may ask? Well, literally anybody else.

Dressed in a red costume with white faux fur trim, the lieutenant looks nothing like the man you experienced on the battlefield. His shoulders threaten to rip through the rented outfit, and the seams at the back hold onto each other for dear life. Since his belly wasn’t big enough to simulate Santa’s, you asked him to stuff a pillow under his uniform. Surprisingly, Ghost complied almost instantly, leaving you to wonder if he was using the pillow as Kevlar, a barrier between him and the kids or if he was secretly enjoying this.

You also convinced him to ditch the balaclava for the time being since he would now have plenty of props to conceal his face—a wig, a long beard, glasses, and a red hat with a white pom-pom, to be exact. Additionally, you attempted to trick him into applying some blush on his cheeks, but he side-eyed you and told you to ‘be careful now’—ironic for a man who paints his face daily.

You rub your temples, trying to keep calm amid the chaos of the mall as you prepare for what’s about to happen during the next few hours. You have no idea why Price chose him to be Santa, but you didn’t question it either. Ghost seems to be the least qualified for the job out of everyone in the base. It feels like a last resort, so to speak—a ‘that’s all we have left in the store’ solution.

On the other hand, you know precisely why the captain chose you to accompany him. “To monitor the situation,” he said—“To make sure we don’t get sued,” you heard. And, under normal circumstances, you’d be happy to tag along with Ghost—be it on patrol, on missions, or even transporting confidential documents. But in this situation? Acting as a troubleshooter rather than a teammate? You’d rather be anywhere else than here, with anybody else than him.

You take another look at him while he sits on the chair. He’s tugging at the uniform, scratching his head, and instinctively pulling the beard to his nose.

“Stop doing that,” you whisper. “It’s a beard, not a balaclava.”

“Price would have been perfect for the job, for fucks sake,” he spits. “He has the fucking moustache for starters.”

“Stop with the ‘fucks’ and the ‘fucking’ Ghost; you’re about to talk to kids! And, as for the captain, he said he couldn’t do it.”

“Oh yeah?” He asks, lifting his hands from the armrests. “And what makes him think that I can?”

“I wish I knew, to be honest, but we don’t have time to go through this again,” you murmur, looking at your watch one last time. You approach the barrier, unclip the rope from the stanchion, and turn over your shoulder.

“Operation ‘Santa’ begins now,” you declare. “Ready?”

“Do I have a choice?” He replies, shrugging, and gestures for you to proceed.

And so it begins. Your first ‘customer’ arrives, and many more follow. You guide one family at a time into the enclosure and escort them to Ghost, who handles the rest. Some children are hesitant, peeking out from behind their parents’ legs, while others are much more direct with their intentions as they scream in horror at the sight of him.

On the other hand, Ghost is neither your typical jolly Santa nor the irritated lieutenant you’d expect. He appears to be... understanding. He reassures parents that it’s okay and there’s no need to force their children onto his lap if they feel uncomfortable. He initiates conversations with the kids from a respectful distance. He smiles with his eyes and hunches his shoulders to appear less imposing. Sometimes, he lures the shy ones into a handshake, a fist pump, or a high five by lowering his gloved hand to their level.

And then there are those other types of kids: the curious ones, the social butterflies. The ones who look forward to sitting on Ghost’s lap, diving into full-blown conversations with him. That’s when you stiffen up and switch into damage-control mode to ensure he won’t lash out at them. You begin hovering above them, listening, jumping into their conversations and sometimes interrupting Ghost and replying to the kids instead of him.

You would have thought he’d be grateful to have you managing the situation. Ghost, however, seems more irritated by you than by the little girl who’s currently playing with the pom-pom on his hat.

“Oi, Elf!” he says calmly, yet visibly annoyed. “Emma and I are chatting about how she spilt tomato juice on her Elsa costume and wants a new one for Christmas. Could you please falala off and go wrap some presents?”

“B-but I need to know because I’ll be sewing it for her,” you reply, smiling at the little girl. “Isn’t that right, Emma?”

And, although Emma nods her head, more out of necessity than agreement, you get his point. He’s doing surprisingly well with those kids, even without you. Actually, he’s doing remarkably well, especially without you.

More kids come and go, and Ghost slowly adapts to his new persona. He starts making bets with you, predicting which kids in the queue might ask for a PlayStation or an iPad and even speculating who might wipe snot on his costume. You, in response, adopt a more laid-back approach and let him do his thing. After each child’s visit, Ghost turns towards you, whispering in your ear about their Christmas wishes, as if he’s indeed Santa, and keeps logs.

“My man wants a full-sized car wheel,” Ghost murmurs as the young boy leaps off his lap, “can you believe him?”

“What did you say to him?” You ask, stifling a laugh.

“I told him I’ll get it for him,” he shrugs. “What else should I do?”

“Alright, but what did you really want to tell him?”

“That his dad already has four of them screwed in his car.”

As the day winds down, and the final announcement for the day echoes through the speakers, parents and children walk past you and towards the exit. They wave at Ghost and occasionally at you. The parking lot empties, the stores shut their doors until tomorrow, and the holiday lights that decorate the inside of the mall switch off one by one.

You stretch your back and tap on his shoulder, signalling that both of you should pack up and return to the base.

“Nuh-uh,” he says, grasping your wrist with one hand and tapping his thigh with the other. “You didn’t tell me what you want for Christmas.”

You’re exhausted but still manage to smile as you comply with his request. You sit on his lap, and he leans back to take a better look at you.

“Let’s think about it another way,” you say. “What would you, as Santa, give me for Christmas?”

“Coal,” he replies. “And a muzzle, so you don’t interrupt me while I’m talking. What was that all about?”

“Was afraid you’d say something bad,” you explain. “But you were pretty good with those kids.”

He shakes his head and plays with the fur trim on his sleeve. “Nah,” he murmurs. “I’d never say something bad to a kid.”

“Speaking of bad and coal,” you say, combing his fake beard, “you never asked the typical ‘have you been a good kid’ to any of them.”

“There’s no bad kid in the world, love,” he whispers. “All kids are good, even the naughty ones.”

You smile at him, but he doesn’t look back at you. He’s examining his uniform as if trying to find something else to discuss. He finds some crumbs a kid left on his suit and brushes them off.

“Ready to head back to the base, Lieutenant?” You ask, tapping his thigh before standing up. You extend your hand to him, and he gladly accepts it, helping him rise from the chair he’s been sitting in all day. You begin walking towards the exit, and he wraps his arm around your shoulder. You reciprocate by hugging his waist.

You walk up to the parked military vehicle that brought you here earlier, still discussing the day. He opens the door but pauses and turns to look at you.

“Resilience,” he declares. “That’s what I would gift you for Christmas.”

“Why?” You ask, turning to look at him. “You think I need it?”

“We all do,” he replies softly, just like when he used to talk to those kids. “Since I can’t protect you from every obstacle life throws your way, I might as well give you the ability to recover from them.”

“That would make me very happy, Lieutenant.” You say, smiling.

He smiles back at you and reaches for your hat to fix it better on your head. His hand moves to your forehead, and he tucks a stray hair behind your ear.

“It’s Santa to you.” He replies.

———————————————————————

A/N: Bruh, I was so tempted to make the reader pull off a Mariah Carey and say, “All I want for Christmas is you,” when Ghost asked what they wanted, but my gag reflexes kicked in every time, and I was cringing galore.

So, there you go: resilience. That’s what I would like to gift you as well. I wish I could shield you from whatever has troubled you in the past or is currently doing so. To protect you from future worries and make everything ‘falala off’. Unfortunately, I can’t do that, neither for you nor for myself.

But this is why comfort characters and stories exist—so we can imagine, when no one is there for us, that someone actually is.

Just like Santa. Just like Ghost.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x gn!reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x y/n #simon ghost riley #simon riley x gn!reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #simon riley #cod ghost #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost riley fic #cod mw ghost

[harrysfolklore]

holidays with tom would include - headcanon

Christmas is one of your favorite holidays, mostly because you get to be at home with Tom and enjoy your time together

Tom and you love spending evenings baking gingerbread cookies and trying out new festive recipes together in the kitchen, him annoying you by putting frosting on your nose and making a mess with the ingredients on purpose.

During the lead-up to Christmas, you both embark on a mission to find the perfect tree. Tom insists on cutting it down himself, claiming that he’s strong enough to handle all the hassle. You end up getting one from the store like every year but you couldn’t love it more once you decorate it.

Cocoa by the fireplace is a must. Almost every evening, you would curl up in the living room wrapped in soft blankets and snuggle while you sip on your hot cocoa cups and snuggle as close as possible.

Holiday nights are dedicated to watching your favorite Christmas films, Tom complaining about how cheesy they are but watching them with you every single time because he loves when you get excited about your favorite parts.

Tom definitely tries to impress you with what he calls his “talent for crafting homemade decorations” by making ornaments for your tree, however, his clumsy side comes out and he ends up messing his own crafts.

You usually have to beg him to take you to the local ice skating rink but he ends up giving it every time, mostly because he gets to catch you when you trip and then tease you about your skating skills (or lack thereof)

You hold a friendly competition to see who can wrap the better gifts, Tom pretending he's not that good at it but secretly taking extra care to make yours look perfect.

Every year, you participate in charity drive, whether it’s volunteering at a shelter or donating toys to children in need. It’s something you’ve always been passionate about and it makes Tom’s heart absolutely melt.

You both create your own holiday playlists and take turns playing them during your baking sessions, cozy evenings, or while decorating the house. Tom insists his selection is much better and yours is cheesy (you might or might not added ‘Santa tell me’ by Ariana Grande more than four times) but secretly, he loves some of the tracks from your list.

On New Year's Eve, you have your own tradition of writing down wishes for the upcoming year and saving them on a small jar that you open the following year to see which ones you accomplished.

It’s no secrets that Tom writes “I wish to have my girl by my side for another 365 days” every year, and it never fails to make your heart jump on your chest over how much love you have for him.

short but sweet 🥹 happy holidays to everyone ! i hope you like this

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

#tom blyth x reader #tom blyth fanfiction #tom blyth imagine #tom blyth blurb #tom blyth x you #tom blyth fake instagram #tom blyth social media au #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #tom blyth fic #harrysfolklore #tom blyth fluff #tom blyth smut #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow smut #social media au #tom blyth au #tom blyth story #tom blyth masterlist

[totaly-obsessed]

Revelations

Katie McCabe x reader request

-> Katie and you watch Aine play football for the first time

-> 2 requests in one - I hope you like it!

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

‘I want another one’ somehow happened quite fast and not even a year later – Aine was getting ready to be a big sister. Telling her didn’t quite go as Katie or you had planned…

“Baby in Mummy’s tummy!”

A deadly silence had fallen over the kitchen as your wife and you just exchanged glances, trying to figure out who had snitched, both convinced that it was not you.

“What do ya mean lovie?” Katie tried to act unknowingly but apparently forgot that Aine had gotten the sass from her.

“You need to listen better!” You could barely hold yourself up with how much you were shaking with laughter and the Irishwoman’s shocked face. “Watch ya tone, Missy!”

By now the young girl had attached herself to your leg, clawing at you for ‘uppies’ as she had once called it. When you finally caved and sat her on the kitchen counter, she was quickly joined by Cooper who nuzzled his head into her side.

“You’re right doll. There is a baby in Mummy’s tummy – you will be a big sister.” Both of you were curious about how the seven-year-old would react to the news, not even caring at this point how she had figured it out.

“Like Mama and Auntie Lauryn!” Cooper by now had enough of the excited bouncing, opting to leave and look for a pretty spot in the sun where he could nap until his small human companion would inevitably find him and smother him in pets.

“That’s right bub! What do you think of that?” Back was the tense silence, as Katie grabbed your hand, giving it a loving squeeze – this was much more terrifying than you had thought. At least you didn’t need to actually tell Aine the news, she had taken that upon herself.

The small brunette looked around the open kitchen and living space, her pigtails swishing through the air as she scooted closer to the edge of the countertop, getting her face right next to yours. Katie’s hands were ready in case she fell, which she wouldn’t but Katie would always worry. “Pssshh! Don’t tell - this was my biggest wish for Santa! And it came true!”

Your wife couldn’t help but laugh, kissing her daughter's forehead before hiding her face in the very familiar brown hair. “Well, Santa came early then, huh?” It was in the middle of November, but ever since last Christmas, the seven-year-old had started a wish list. “He did! Cause I wanted it so badly – and Mummy did too!”

This had gone over much better than you could have imagined, and for now, you were just fine with her thinking that Santa was the way her little sibling would find its way to her. “You’re right Lovie. Mummy and Mama wished for it really badly too.”

---

---

It was no secret that Aine wanted to be just like her Mama, so her playing football should really not come as a surprise to either of you but it turns out that seeing her little girl get accepted into the Arsenal U8s team was something entirely different.

The little brunette had tried out for them, just like any other kid (no matter what haters would say), and got accepted with no problem. At their age group, it wasn’t considered as ‘Academy’ training, but rather ‘Pre academy’, with two training sessions a week and ten games across the whole season. They also weren’t separated into a girls' and boys' team just yet, so the Arsenal U8’s was a mixed team that would compete against other fixed games and also just boys teams.

With spring break coming up, Aine’s first match was also coming closer and closer. Katie had never felt so many emotions. Seeing you at six months pregnant and now well rounded while her little girl went to training after training, each time coming home with a bigger smile.

“Look at this! You’ll look just like Mama!”

Katie really couldn’t hold her tears anymore – with you holding her hand Aine admired herself in the mirror, wearing her game-day kit for the very first time.

But instead of Katie's 15 on her back, she had a 10 – for Kim Little, the best Midfielder there was and your daughter's biggest idol, much to her mama's disappointment.

“You look so grown up, Doll.” Seeing your wife this emotional, and Aine so happy gave you the rest. Now both of you were bawling your eyes out while the little brunette hopped around the house, before running back with Katie’s phone in her little hands.

“Take a picture, Mummy! For Auntie Kim!”

In the picture you were holding the grinning girl in your arms, as she proudly kissed your tummy, refusing to properly pose as she wanted to show Kim her little sibling as well.

This was the best day yet for the young gunner. After all, she was going to be a big sister, so she had to be a good example and play good football – just like the grown-ups.

“Do me a favor, my love?” Aine stood in between her mother's legs when she finally composed herself a little. “Hmmm?”

“Grow up a little slower, will ya?”

---

---

Turns out preparing for gameday, and actually experiencing one, were completely different experiences – especially when it was a double game day.

Aine was already hopping through the house like an excited bunny when Katie made her way down the stairs to make breakfast.

The Irishwoman had kissed your forehead, gently waking you up with a mumbled “Mornin Love. Thirty minutes.” Before going downstairs. God was her morning voice attractive.

It was seven in the morning. On a Sunday. Entirely too early for a six-month pregnant you who had put a giddy child to bed, that didn’t want to sleep. But your wife was gracious, giving you thirty more minutes to wake up fully before helping her daughter bring breakfast in.

You could get used to this – a delicious meal in bed with your wife and daughter, although a little later would have been nice.

“Mummy, when do we have to go?” This was the third time Aine had asked in the last ten minutes, and every time either Katie or you had given her the answer but the small brunette couldn’t help herself – she was just too excited.

This was the fastest you had ever seen the seven-year-old get washed and dressed after breakfast. She was so fast, that she had gotten impatient with your much slower speed. Aine took it upon herself to get you dressed while you brushed your teeth while sat on the closed toilet.

“Foot please Mama!” You did as asked, picking up your legs off the floor so that your daughter could slip socks over your feet.

And with a quick zoom, she was in your bedroom again, just to return with wide, comfortable pants that you just knew that your wife chose. Instead of giving them to you, she threw them on the floor. “Step in please!” Good thing you were already wearing underwear, huh? As good as she could, Aine helped you get them up and over your bump, but not before giving it a kiss and whispering a small “Hi!”

It went like that until you were fully dressed and she pulled you to the hallway, where your wife helped you into shoes as you could barely see the ground anymore.

“Is this okay? I thought maybe I should have given her longer socks because it will be cold – but then we have a blanket so maybe you will get too hot an-“ Katie’s rambling was cut short with a passionate kiss. “It’s perfect – Thank you, my Love.”

“Let go, let go, let's go!”

---

---

“Now you know how it feels to watch you play!” Katie was tense as she leaned against one of the beams that surrounded the football pitch.

The drive here had gone by fairly quickly as Aine made sure to tell your wife all about her teammates. You had met most of them already during practice or while picking her back up again – the small brunette would always chat with anybody who would listen until you walked over to take her home. Her chattiness definitely came from your wife – but right now there was nothing in the world that could make the Irishwoman relax.

“She’s tougher than she looks, my Love.” By now you had taken the footballer's hand, rubbing calming circles on it in a desperate attempt to calm her down.

Aine was one of four girls on the pitch – two on her team and two on the other. The rest were all boys. And while you knew that she was feistier than she looked, much more like her mother than you, the size difference between her and some of the boys was terrifying.

“Oi Ref!” Your wife’s hand shot up when an opposing boy had clumsily taken your daughter down with him in an attempt to stop her from getting even closer to their goal. “That’s a free kick! Ref!” The guy refereeing the game didn’t see the incident at first, angering Katie even further – but when he did look over the first thing that he saw, was a tiny brunette shoving a boy at least a head taller off of her.

The shrill sound of a whistle agreed with Katie, and the Arsenal U8s were indeed allowed a freekick in a very good position for them, as your daughter had been very central on the field and closing in on goal.

Katie’s grip on your hand tightened with stress – she knew what she would do in this situation. But did her seven-year-old know it as well? They spent countless dinner conversations talking about football and plenty of different techniques, with impressive input from Aine, so she had to know what she was doing, right?

 And she did.

The brunette passed to one of her free strikers and started running through the masses. She was small, fast, and agile – and before the opposing team could blink, her striker passed back to her when she was standing directly in front of the goal.

“Yes! That’s my daughter!”

Katie couldn’t contain herself any longer – the ball had hit the back of the net with a surprising amount of force, their keeper jumping in the other direction, making this a perfect goal. Her first goal.

After high-fiving every player on her team your daughter sprinted over to where you stood and gave a quick kiss to your belly just like she had done earlier in the morning. “For you, baby!”

The match ended shortly after Arsenal's third goal, assisted by your daughter who once again looked at you and Katie, to see if you watched her – which you did.

One of the trainers had brought a box of mixed ice-creams and even though the young brunette wasn’t supposed to, she took three of them and quickly made her way to you and your wife.

“Don’t you wanna eat with your friends baby?”

“Nuh-uh. You are my best friends.”

Well, there go your hormones again as you couldn’t hold your tears at bay any longer. “I love you so much Aine. And you played so well.” The seven-year-old kissed your forehead much like Katie did, before ensuring that someone had recorded the game so that she could show Auntie Kim her goal.

“That was my first win for baby sister, Mommy! Now Mama needs to win tonight so it’s a perfect day!”

“Geez no pressure huh?” Everything was packed up now and the pitch was getting emptier by the minute as multiple parents made their way to their cars at the same time you did.

“Aine I have a question.”

“Yeah?”

“What if it’s a baby brother instead?”

She was now buckled into her car seat, with Katie still at her door trying to work out something that has been bothering her ever since your daughter had announced that you were pregnant again. Neither you nor Katie have been told the gender of the baby, yet the youngest family member seemed sure that it would be a girl again.

“It’s not. It’s a baby sister.”

“How do you know that?”

You tried to watch their interaction as well as you could from your passenger seat. Your Wife’s eyes were wide with curiosity, something that you saw in Aine nearly every day.

“I just do.”

“You terrify me, Kid.”

#woso x reader #woso imagine #woso #woso imagines #arsenal wfc x reader #katie mc cabe x reader #katie mccabe #katie mccabe x reader

[fluentmoviequoter]

A Family at Your Side

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x shy!paramedic!fem!Buckley!reader

Summary: You, Evan Buckley's sister, are a paramedic with the 118. When you're called to a fire, it quickly becomes a crime scene when someone opens fire on you. Your boyfriend Tim Bradford and your fire station family have to work together to save you.

Warnings: angst, fluff, injuries (r is shot), depiction of arson/shooting, lots of teasing. [While r is Evan's sister, I don't put anything specific in here past some teasing, so it could be viewed as adoptive or some other relationship dynamic!]

Word Count: 2.6k+ words

A/N: I've only seen a few episodes of 911 (season 1), so I hope my characterization of them isn't completely terrible. I really like this dynamic though; it's so fun and complex!!

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Picture from Pinterest

“There’s no escape,” you whisper under your breath, desperately wishing for some relief.

“Oh, c’mon, we’re not that bad,” Buck replies, knocking his fist against your shoulder. “We’re better than the cop.”

“In every way!” Hen adds, smiling at you. “Why you started dating him is one of the two things I will never understand about you.”

“What’s the other?” you ask.

“How you-“ she turns to point to Buck as she continues, “and him are related. He can’t shut up and you can’t make eye contact.”

“I got all the good genes,” Buck explains, smiling.

“Yet none of the smarts,” Hen argues, pressing her lips together as she tilts her head.

“Or looks,” Nash calls from his place in the kitchen. “Now if you’re done bothering her, can someone set the table?”

You stand to help, and Nash points a spatula at you as he says, “Not you. You do it all the time. Make your brother do something for once.”

“She has no power over me!” Buck yells dramatically. “I have leverage. Like that time she-“

Chimney hits the back of his head, telling him to stop, as your chin drops to your chest. The alarm goes off before you can wonder which embarrassing story he was planning to use, and as you rush to the ambulance with Hen, you’re glad Chimney stopped him. Their attention was bad enough without him divulging your personal information.

✯✯✯✯✯

“This is a suspected arson, meets the MO of a few previous fires. We need that fire out before the police get here so they can get in,” Nash announces.

“Anyone inside?” Hen asks.

As Nash answers, someone screams in pain, and you look at Nash. He hesitates before nodding, and you grab your bag before running into the clear side of the duplex.

“Los Angeles Fire and Rescue,” you call. “Is anyone in here?”

“Yes! I need help!” a man yells from the back of the dwelling.

Rushing through, you radio to the rest of the 118 that you’re looking for an injured resident.

“We can’t get the fire under control,” Buck answers, his voice tight. “You need to get out of there.”

“I see him. Keep trying, Buck. Sir, are you injured?”

“No, I don’t think so,” he answers shakily. “I smelled the smoke and- and I have asthma, but I couldn’t tell where it was coming from, and I was scared to leave.”

“Okay, take a deep breath, sir. I’m a paramedic, so I’m going to get you out of here and then we’ll make sure your airways are clear. Do you understand?”

He nods but refuses when you gesture for him to stand.

“It’s on fire!” he argues.

“Sir, we have a clear track to the front door, but the fire will spread with the Santa Anas blowing outside, so we need to go now,” you explain.

Something crashes outside, and you pull the man to his feet.

“Get out of there! If I don’t see you in ten seconds, I’m coming in after you,” Buck radios.

“We’re coming, Buck,” you answer, pulling the man along.

More sirens become audible as you reach the door, the fire much closer to the front of the building. Several police cars approach, and you breathe a sigh of relief. The man stops, and you turn toward him quickly.

“Sir, we’re almost there,” you remind him, pointing to the ambulance.

“He’s still out here!”

“Who?” you ask, your voice quieting again as the adrenaline wears off.

“The man who set the fire!”

You freeze, a sudden cold rush contrasting the heat from the fire.

“Where is he?”

“I- I don’t know.”

A shot rings through the air, and you drop to the small porch, pulling the man behind the railing beside you. The fire is moving toward you, but with no idea of where that shot came from, you can’t move and risk your life and this man’s.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Everybody down!” Nash yells, ducking behind the truck.

“7-Adam-19, shots fired at my location. LAFD 118 and LAPD in need of backup, dispatch air support for possible sniper,” Tim calls, kneeling behind his shop before rushing to the fire truck.

“She’s still up there,” Buck calls, squatting behind the ambulance with Hen.

“Who?”

Buck and Nash look at each other and then Tim, and he immediately knows they’re talking about you.

“Backup is on the way, but we can’t do anything yet,” Tim explains.

“Bradford, the fire is spreading, we can’t stop it with this wind!” Nash adds.

“Or a sniper taking shots at us!” Buck yells. He drops his head to his radio to ask, “Sis, you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. What’s going on?”

“Bradford and Thorsen are here, they called for backup but we can’t do anything until-“

Another shot cuts him off, and you move back against the railing.

“Talk to me!” Buck yells into his receiver.

“I’m okay, Buck,” you reply quietly. “Our- uh- our guy passed out after working himself up, so…”

“He’s not our primary concern right now,” Buck responds.

“Careful,” you warn, your voice nearly inaudible.

“No, I happen to agree,” Nash adds to the conversation.

Tim pulls Chimney’s radio from his chest to say, “I do too. You take care of you, and we’ll worry about him when we can get up there.”

The radio stays quiet, and Tim looks around the end of the truck. He can’t see you, but knowing you’re out of sight and safe makes him feel better.

“Uh, Tim?” Aaron asks. “Eyes on our shooter.”

Tim turns quickly, looking up. He sees the end of the rifle, and when it lowers suddenly, he doesn’t think before yelling at you.

“Stay down!” he screams.

You drop lower, your face to the concrete as the shooter releases several rounds, making a line of bullet holes across the front of the duplex. The fire is moving slowly, but it’s still closing in on your hiding place.

The cold feeling hasn’t gone away, and as you look at the unconscious man at your side, you can only hope to make it out alive.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Where is your backup?” Buck asks Tim, leaning forward to look past Hen.

“Still a minute out. Aaron and I are going to go through that building, find a way to the roof,” Tim answers.

“Be careful. We all care about the woman stuck back there,” Nash reminds him.

Aaron and Tim nod before moving between the shop and the fire truck, rushing to the main entrance and entering quietly.

“Go left, I’ll go right,” Tim whispers.

As they move up the stairs, Tim hears their backup and the airship approaching. He hopes that the shooter doesn’t do anything stupid when he sees the police and gestures for Aaron to go faster.

“LAPD, put the weapon down!” an officer demands over the speaker of the airship.

“Thorsen, go!” Tim yells, kicking the door open to walk onto the roof.

The man turns the rifle up, shooting toward the helicopter before it moves. Aaron and Tim approach from different sides, and when the gun suddenly drops and the man begins emptying his ammunition toward you, Tim doesn’t hesitate to shoot.

“7-Adam-19, suspect is down,” Aaron radios. “Tim, go get her.”

Nodding, Tim stands, rushing down the stairs and out into the road. The fire has worsened, and the 118 is still in place.

Evan sees Tim and clenches his jaw, stepping toward Tim to yell, “This is your fault! It’s all on you!”

 Tim’s brows furrow, looking to Nash for more information.

“She’s, uh- she’s not responding to the radio calls, and we can’t get up there until we get part of the fire out, enough to get through with our gear,” Nash explains.

“You should have brought enough backup to begin with or gone up there sooner!” Buck continues.

“You think I don’t know that?” Tim snaps. “But she was already stuck when I got here, so work on getting to her and getting her safe, and then you can get mad at me!”

“And if it’s too late?” Buck demands, his chest heaving in anger.

Tim looks away, and Buck moves forward quickly, causing Nash and Chimney to lunge forward and hold him back.

“I’ll kill you if we’re too late!”

“Buck!” Tim yells, walking to him. “I know this is my fault and if she doesn’t make it, her blood is on my hands. I’m sorry, I really am, but there is nothing I can do now except keep people back so you can get this fire out and find out if- and make sure she is okay.”

Buck relaxes slightly, pushing Chimney and Nash off of him.

“Let’s get her out!” Nash calls, directing everyone to their positions.

✯✯✯✯✯

The man beside you groans as you tug him further against the wall. You’re caged in against the fire, and you dropped your radio, watching it burn as you kept your head down.

When water sprays onto your face, a steady stream coming from the street, you force a smile, hoping to get out, get warm, and hug your brother and Tim for as long as you can before they make you shy away from them. You love them for it, you remember, reminding yourself to think happy thoughts.

“Where’s the ambulance?” the man slurs before coughing.

“Just a minute, sir, keep your head down and breathe.”

The fire is driven back by two hoses, and when several feet are clear on the side of the railing, people begin yelling.

“Sis! Can you hear me?” Buck asks loudly, appearing in his turnout gear a moment later.

“Get him to the ambulance,” you reply, standing shakily as he pulls the man over his shoulder.

You walk into the small yard, looking for Tim. The persistent cold feeling is just beginning to concern you, and when you grow dizzy and stop in the yard, you realize that something is wrong. Raising your hands to press against your stomach, you begin to run through a mental list of potential injuries.

“Hey, hey, gorgeous, c’mon, we got to get back,” Tim calls as he jogs to your side. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you murmur, ducking away from his hands on your face.

“Good,” Tim replies, laying his hand on your upper back and directing you to the curb.

“You got lucky,” Buck grumbles, joining your other side across from Tim.

“We all did our jobs, Buck, she’s safe, just leave it,” Tim says lowly.

“No thanks to you!” Buck responds, stepping forward.

You recognize the look in his eyes, an anger he seems to reserve for you. Without thinking, you move a hand from your navel and push it against Buck’s chest to stop him. He and Tim look at your bloody hand before yelling your name as you tip back.

Buck catches you, lowering you onto the grass as he rips your shirt open.

“Hen!” he screams, a pained, guttural sound that draws the attention of the entire 118.

Hen sees you on the ground, unconscious between Buck and Tim, and rushes to you, her bag thrown over her shoulder.

“GSW,” she decides quickly, looking at your stomach, a mess of tattered fabric and blood. “Roll her over, carefully.”

Tim keeps his hands on your side, helping Buck tip you onto one side as Hen runs her hand down your spine.

“No exit wound, we need to go. Now.”

Leaning back, Tim gives Buck room to lift you, running to the ambulance as fast as possible.

“Are you coming?” he yells, raising his arms as he looks at Tim.

“Go!” Nash, Chimney, Aaron, and newly arrived Nolan yell.

Tim nods, rushing into the ambulance and sitting as it lurches into motion.

“I didn’t mean it,” Buck says, looking at you while he speaks to Tim. “It’s not your fault, but I can’t- I can’t lose her.”

“You won’t. We won’t,” Tim promises.

Hen works quickly, muttering under her breath about needing your help.

✯✯✯✯✯

When you open your eyes, you first notice the unmistakable feeling of someone looking at you and touching your side, a gentle touch as fingers drag up and down your skin.

“Is he okay?” you ask, blinking against the harsh light above you.

“The man from the duplex?” Buck asks. “Yeah, he’s fine. Had an asthma attack and then a few panic attacks, but he’s good. You- you got shot and didn’t tell anyone.”

Tipping your head down, you’re surprised he’s standing at the end of your bed. This means the fingers on your exposed side belong to…

“Tim,” you whisper, glancing at him.

“You scared us, baby,” he replies softly, spreading his warm hand over your skin.

He smiles when your muscles tense beneath him, but it quickly disappears when you groan in pain.

“I didn’t mean not to tell you,” you say quietly, pinching the blanket between your fingers. “I didn’t know I got shot.”

“That’s kinda- that’s pretty epic, really,” Buck says, laying his hand on your foot. “Makes a good party story.”

“I don’t go to parties,” you grumble.

“I mean for me,” he replies happily.

“Are you two fighting?” you ask, looking between them.

“No,” they answer together, both squeezing you reassuringly.

“We were scared and upset, didn’t have anywhere else to take it out,” Buck explains with a shrug. “He’s just lucky you stopped me from hitting him. I would’ve removed him from active duty for six weeks minimum.”

“You wish,” Tim scoffs.

“Stop,” you say, chuckling when they look shocked at your bold demand. “Please.”

“You were in surgery for a long time,” Tim tells you. “How’s your pain?”

“It’s fine, manageable. I mean, I can feel it now, but it’s not too bad.”

You glance down, your brows furrowing as you realize why you could feel Tim’s skin directly on yours.

“Wondering where your hospital gown is?” Tim asks, a smile you know all too well on his face. “I put in a special request.”

“Gross. That’s my sister,” Buck interjects. When you look at him with wide eyes, he sighs and fills you in: “They couldn’t get to your stomach well enough with one on. If you want to cover up, we’ll make sure you’re comfortable.”

“It’s okay,” you reply, gently tugging the band of your sports bra down.

“More than okay,” Tim says, quiet enough that Buck can’t hear.

You look away quickly, and Buck makes a ‘tsk’ sound.

“The shooter is in custody,” Tim says, giving you a break from his ‘abuse.’

“Will I have to testify or anything?” you whisper.

“No,” Tim and Buck answer together.

Buck pulls his phone from his pocket, nodding before shaking your ankle, his hand still resting on you.

“I have to go, we’ve got a call, but when we’re done, everyone wants to come by,” he says.

You nod. “Be careful. I love you.”

“Love you, sis!”

Looking at Tim’s chest rather than his face, he takes the chance to tease you. “Maybe you should get a shirt before your team gets here.”

“Get out,” you mumble. “Or give me yours.”

“Whoa! You get shot once and become a whole new person.”

“Wasn’t worth it.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Tim replies, taking your hand. “And I’m sorry that I couldn’t do anything to keep it from happening.”

“’S not your fault.”

Turning your attention back to the blanket, Tim asks, “You get this shy with your patients?”

“No. But they’re not as pushy.”

“Hey,” Tim calls, using his hand to gently turn your chin toward him. “I love you. I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“I love you, too. Thanks for being here through all of it.”

“Try to get rid of me.”

“I do. You never listen.”

Tim laughs, loud and happy, and you smile, turning your face into his arm where it holds your hand, glad he’s at your side, and you have a whole team, a family, to be with you through everything.

#tim bradford x reader #shy!reader #tim bradford fluff #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford #evan buckley #the rookie #911 abc #team shy! #fem!reader #requests

[cevansbrat0007]

Cross-Country Christmas (Teaser)

Summary: After Ari is left stranded by a surprise winter storm, you find yourself wishing for a little Christmas miracle...

Warnings: Mature Themes, Angst, Ari Being A Menace, Holiday Themes, Smut, Arguments, Spanking (mentioned), Pet Names, Cursing, More Warnings to Come Minors DNI

A/N: This is only a TEASER, the longer fic is coming soon. Part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

8:30am on Christmas Day - Bell’s Creek, Texas

“I promise I’ll be fine, Beast.” Drying your tears, you crumble up your tissues in your fist before discarding them in favor of taking a sip of your coffee. “Like you just said, there’ll be other holidays. And certainly other Christmases.”

Ari was still stuck in Omaha. And while you had suspected this call was coming, you hadn’t been prepared for how much the disappointment would affect you.

By all accounts, your Bounty Hunter appeared to be in good spirits, albeit a little tired. He was still on standby, even though all flights were still grounded indefinitely. But you’d at least been happy to hear that he’d somehow managed to catch a few hours of sleep. 

Not only that, but he’d also made a new friend in some guy named Clint. They apparently had a number of things in common, with the most important being that they’d both served overseas. Ari had also alluded to his new buddy being in law enforcement as well. 

But if you were being honest, you’d been so focused on trying to sound positive that you hadn’t quite been able to focus on his words as much as you would’ve liked. Thankfully, Ari seemed keen on having a conversation – even if it felt a bit one-sided.

“The airline keeps offering to put us up for the night. Anyone who accepts will be guaranteed a spot on one of the first flights out.” Ari coughs softly before continuing. “However, if you’re willing to wait a little bit there’s talk about them sweetening the deal with some sort of voucher or somethin’, plus miles and all that shit.” 

“Oh?” Is all you can manage, forcing yourself to take another pull of your now lukewarm coffee.

“Yeah. So, Clint and I were thinking…” He trails off, briefly leaning away from the receiver to comment on something you couldn’t see.

“You two were thinking…what?” Your next sip of coffee tastes surprisingly bitter on your tongue. Maybe you would dump out the pot and brew a fresh one. 

“That we should take ‘em up on their offer and just ride this storm out. We take the points, get the voucher, and then maybe in a month or two, we go on a vacation together somewhere nice.” 

“You and Clint?!” You screech, accidentally knocking over your mug in the process. “Shit!” You scramble out of your chair to grab a dish towel and hurriedly mop up the mess. 

“Hate to break it to ya, baby, but Clint’s not really my type.” The Bounty Hunter chuckles into the phone. “I was talking about me and you, Bird. We can pick a destination and have ourselves a holiday do-over.”

A beat goes by before you respond the only way that makes any real, logical sense. Even though it seems to take every last bit of your resolve.  

“Okay.” Your voice comes out small and resigned. 

“Aw now, don’t fret. I’ll be home soon.” Ari does his best to reassure you. “And once I’m back, we will spend every waking minute making up for lost time. You have my word.”

Well, when he put it like that…

“I guess we can hold off for a little while longer.” You sniff, wishing you could just go back to bed and sleep until tomorrow. “But you had better keep your promise, Beast. Otherwise I’m gonna have to track down Santa and ask him for a new man.” 

Your half-hearted attempt at humor elicits a short bark of laughter from Ari which, in turn, makes you smile as well. It would be hard, but you could make it 

“Try it, sweet Bird, and I’m telling you right now that I’ll have you in my truck and over my knee before you make it outta the next county.” Comes his gruff response, clearly not enjoying the image of you hanging off another fella’s arm. 

You know without asking that he’s probably not kidding – so you decide to leave it alone. If he wanted to thump his chest a little, then you’d let him. 

“It was a joke.” You tell him when the line falls silent. Standing, you pad towards the fridge on bare feet, stopping once you reach the doors. Yanking one open, you survey the contents, silently wondering if you should even be bothered enough to cook today. Granted, you’d already brined the turkey so –

“Joking about my replacement isn’t funny, Bird.” Ari growls, the sound rumbling from somewhere deep in his chest. “Especially when I can’t be there in person to plead my case.”

You blow out a harsh breath at the same time as your eyes roll heavenwards. Why couldn't he understand that you needed to crack wise here and there in order to keep from crying?

END TEASER

#cevansbrat0007 Sweet Renegade Series #chris evans imagines #ari levinson imagines #chris evans fanfiction #ari levinson fanfiction #chris evans x you #ari levinson x you #chris evans x black!reader #ari levinson x black!reader #chris evans x woc!reader #ari levinson x woc!reader #chris evans x black reader #ari levinson x black reader #chris evans smut #ari levinson smut #chris evans x reader #chris evans x female!reader #chris evans x girlfriend!reader #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x female!reader #ari levinson x girlfriend!reader #chris evans x poc!reader #ari levinson x yn #chris evans x yn #ari levinson x y/n #chris evans x y/n #ari levinson girlfriend!reader #chris evans x fem!reader #ari levinson x fem!reader #ari levinson x poc!reader

[hazelsmirrorball]

Santa’s Little Helper | Hazel Callahan

summary: Y/n is in desperate need of a job when her friends from her fight club find out where she works. They come up with a plan to make her have fun. pairings: Hazel Callahan  x Fem! reader warnings: none.

Y/n desperately needed a job, with money being tight this year and Christmas being around the corner searching for a job on Christmas break was her top priority. So she applied to every single job in the mall near your home. Bookstores, cafes, fast food and clothing stores, yet the job that was on the bottom of the list was the first and only one to call her back, so she desperately agreed. No one was willing to hire an inexperienced young adult so might at well suffer a little bit for the money,

Y/n didn’t intend on telling none of her friends about her new job, one of the reasons being that for them having a job was something they didn’t have to worry about right now, at least for Hazel and Brittney since their parents were loaded. The other reason was how absurd and dumb the job made her feel. She knew if her friends found out she was working here she wouldn’t hear the end of it.

Her main duties were attempting to clean vomit, tears and other bodily fluids, while also pretending to be entertained by the client's wishes and smiling. But all of the above was nothing compared to the hideous work uniform she had to wear. She remembers PJ's first job and she couldn’t even comprehend how she could have such a fine uniform while Y/n had this outrageous outfit.

Her thoughts were snapped by her boss telling her it was time for her break. She thanked God and quickly went to open the small gate in front of her when she heard the familiar laughs in front of her. She slowly looked up, finding several pairs of eyes staring straight at her.

“Sometimes getting up early has its perks, Sylvie. Because if you would’ve told me if I went Christmas shopping to find Y/n dressed like this I would’ve come here sooner” PJ said with laughter filling her voice leaning against Hazel in an attempt to hold her laughter and posture. Sylvie mickmed his actions attempting to catch her breath.

When Y/n looked around looking for help with the other’s she only saw all of them in the same condition as PJ and Sylvie .

“Come on guys! It’s not that funny” Y/n responded rolling her eyes with a huff. Which made the group laugh even harder. ‘

“Oh, It’s not funny L/n. It’s hilarious” Isabel responded hitting Y/n’s shoulder laughing

“Come on Isabel! Don’t hit her, she’ll tell Santa and he’ll put you on the naughty list” Josie responded giggling softly.

“I hate you guys so much,” she muttered through gritted teeth. Taking her elf hat off angrily. 

“When I told you, you could pass as an elf I didn’t mean literally sweetheart” PJ said out of breath, cleaning the tears spilling from her eyes.

“I for one think you look very adorable, Y/n. It suits you really well” Hazel exclaimed smiling which made Y/n blushed softly.

“Elfie! Your break is over. Santa is waiting for you” Y/n could hear her boss yell from a few feet away. She rolled her eyes while the laughter of the group intensified.

“Elfie? Please this keeps getting better and better” PJ and Josie hugged each other while screaming in laughter causing the people in the line to take pictures to look at the group and with that Y/n scurried away towards her place, settling down next to Santa and helping little kids on his lap. When she looked at the camera smiling for the picture she noticed her group of friends entering one of the stores in  front of her booth  but she brushed it off.

An hour passed by and she started hearing a ruckus coming from the line but she ignored it thinking it was a kid possibly fighting with his mom because he didn’t want to take a picture with Santa or that he didn’t want that toy, whatever it was they didn’t pay her enough to find out.

“Last picture before Santa goes on his break to fix up some toys, next please” Y/n in the sweetest voice possible. When she turned around noticing her group of friends wearing matching pajamas and standing in line to take their pictures she almost died.

“Yes! We are really excited to take pics with Santa!” PJ exclaimed while running towards him with Josie close behind. Both of them surprisingly ended up sitting on Santa’s lap. While Isabel,Stella-Rebecca and Brittney sat on the floor in front of them A criss crossed. Sylvie laid on the floor near the trio, taking Hazel  and Annie to each of Y/n’s sides.

“Have you kids been good this year?” Santa asked Josie and PJ.

“Oh, we’ve been the best santa” PJ grinned making Y/n roll her eyes.

“Well that’s amazing dear girl. What do you kids want for christmas?”

“My friend really wants to get lai-”

“PJ!” Hazel exclaimed while blushing

“Let’s take a picture with Santa!” Y/n said attempting to shut PJ up. The cameraman counted with his fingers.

“I wrote a little letter to Santa and asked him to leave a certain little helper under my tree this year” Hazel whispered in her ear after her face turned completely red.

“Say, Mistletoe,” Isabel exclaimed while smiling at the camera.

“one, two, three, mistletoe” the group minus Y/n said at the same time. The girl looked up to see Annie holding up a small mistletoe between Hazel and herself. Her face turned completely red when she felt Hazel’s  lips against her.

She lost her job that day but at least they had the best christmas card to send to everyone they knew.

Happy holidays!

#hazel callahan bottoms #hazel bottoms #hazel x reader #hazel callahan #hazel callahan x reader #imagines #ruby cruz #bottoms movie #kit tanthalos x reader #kit tanthalos #ruby cruz x reader #josie bottoms #pj bottoms

[separatist-apologist]

My Whole Life Is Ruined

Summary: When you hold me, it holds me together, and you kiss me in a way that's gonna screw me up forever

Surprise @talons-and-teeth! I'm sorry for the wait- I was not your original secret santa. I pulled this together based on what I know about you and I hope you like it! @acotargiftexchange

Big thanks to @octobers-veryown for making a moodboard with practically no instructions other than one Taylor Swift lyric and the description "Azriel has been hiding the fact he's Gwyn's mate and they have sex about it."

--

Insomnia was nothing new. 

Gwyn couldn’t remember the last time she’d fully slept through the night. The past chased the present, running in circles as she ran after her tail, almost grasping it before she woke covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Sometimes, bathed in nothing but moonlight, Gwyn wondered if there would ever come a time when she didn’t dream of her sister, of a life long gone.

It didn’t rattle her as badly as it used to. Sitting in the bed Nesta had so graciously offered up, Gwyn pushed the blankets from her legs to let the cool, winter air caress her overheated skin. Leaving the library still felt like a picked over wound. She didn’t want to go back, cloistered away from her friends and the life she’d begun to enjoy living. That didn’t mean she wasn’t scared.

Anxiety seemed to thrum beside her heartbeat, a constant presence she could only just shake if she was otherwise occupied. Right then, in the dead of night, Gwyn felt it snake around her until it was wrapped tight around her throat, choking a scream that always seemed so close to escaping.

She didn’t bother changing out of her thin nightdress, certain neither Cassian or Nesta would be up this late. If they were even back—they’d gone to Hewn City that evening for some meeting with a Day Court prince, giving Gwyn full run of the House of Wind. Not that she did anything terribly interesting with all that power—Gwyn got a book and some hot chocolate and spent the night curled in a chair reading until she finally dragged herself into bed.

Maybe she should have trained on the roof first. Really worn herself down so her brain was too exhausted to conjure up memories of the past, all the while whispering of how she might have prevented it, if she’d only been stronger, smarter, cleverer. Forcing her to relive it, to pick it apart to see what could have been different.

That was exhausting, too.

Cold air hit her the moment she pushed open the door, howling a greeting that might have scared someone else off. Gwyn liked the biting cold, the raucous yelling, the silhouette of the mountains looming like shadows in the distance. A half moon poured light over the rooftop, causing sleeping weapons to glint beneath. Maybe, she thought ruefully, she should have put on socks. Hair caught against her lips, and as Gwyn worked to push it out of her face, wishing for a hair tie, too. 

It wasn’t too late and yet she was already here, wasn’t she? Might as well just power through, ignoring her discomfort like she was so accustomed to. The bite of cold was a reminder she’d survived—she was alive. So what if it burned a little? Sometimes Gwyn thought she fought better when she was in pain.

And more often than not, she suspected she deserved to feel it. That the curling peace was a mistake and everyone was going to realize what an imposter she was. They’d tell her she didn’t belong with them and cast her back out. Gwyn was always just waiting for it, a hammer that might fall at any given moment. 

A blade just against her neck, never quite striking.

Gwyn pulled out a dagger, her favored weapon, and held it for a moment in her hand. Nesta was all brute strength, and Emerie terrifying yet easy grace, but Gwyn liked to be the shadow in the dark. The knife at someone's side rather than a screaming sword coming for a person's throat. While Nesta and Emeries radiated the kind of beauty that made men cower, Gwyn liked to think she was sweeter, more unassuming. People looked at Nesta, at Emerie, and were taken by their perfection.

They looked at Gwyn and wondered why she was with them. So Gwyn trained harder, made herself someone that couldn’t be ignored. Not forever, anyway. She was good at hiding, besides, taking to trees, blending into the background so often that on more than one occasion, Cassian and Nesta didn’t realize Gwyn was in the room until she cleared her throat. 

Unbalanced, Gwyn took a second dagger and for a moment, was the wind itself. Recalling the movements Azriel had been teaching her, Gwyn stepped like a dance, twisting her body and slashing her blades against invisible foes.

A real ones, too. A shadow moved from the edge of the ring, catching her by surprise. Gwyn darted, and just as Azriel had taught her, grabbed them, slamming their body to the ground. It was thunder the way that massive, familiar form crashed against the world, a mighty god dragged from the heavens themselves.

Azriel groaned, eyes closed even as his hands grabbed her waist, holding her knee painfully against his ribs. “That was good,” he gasped, fingers curling into her skin. 

“I’m so sorry,” she replied, dropping the blade she’d pressed to his throat. A thin line of blood snaked over golden, tattooed skin, staining the rather lovely black jacket he was wearing. Why was he up here, she wondered? Shouldn’t he be enjoying himself with his friends and family? 

Azriel swallowed hard, opening hazel eyes that cut through the otherwise oppressive dark to look at her.

“I’m not.”

And then he released her, letting her scramble backwards, heart thumping in her chest. Azriel didn’t move, wings spread wide around against the ground. He looked like a fallen angel and Gwyn was awed at the sight, the realization that it had been her who’d felled him. He was looking right back at her, his expression clouded by shadow. Was he angry? He said he wasn’t, but surely he didn’t appreciate being assaulted in his own home. 

Not that she saw much of him since she’d moved in. Azriel, who maintained a bedroom in the House of Wind, was suddenly gone and when Gwyn was really down, she sometimes thought it was because he didn’t like being around her. Here he was, though, clambering to his feet, his eyes sliding down her body. She could feel the heat of them like he was touching her skin and was grateful for a sudden burst of wind hitting her like a bucket of ice water.

Careful, she warned herself. 

It was hard, though. Anyone with eyes could see how beautiful Azriel was. She wasn’t stupid. It didn’t hurt that in her worst moment, Azriel’s had been the very first she’d seen. A savior—a dark angel, come to wreak bloody vengeance on her sister's behalf. It had been Morrigan who’d taken her away to safety, but when Gwyn thought about how she’d escaped, she always remembered Azriel’s curved, lethal blade, sliding cleanly through the bodies of the same males who had killed her sister.

She’d always been grateful to him for it, even if she’d never tell him. He’d never once looked at her like he remembered, had never betrayed an ounce of pity. She’d expected him to say something back when he’d first joined their training, wary and distant. And maybe he knew, because he kept his distance until it was safe, had held himself at an arm's length and let her decide how much or little of him she wanted. 

The problem was Azriel himself. Outside of being the most beautiful man he’d ever seen, he was just nice. Not in the way Cassian was, with big smiles and silly jokes, but with serious eyes and a dagger in hand, forcing her to move again and again and again. Your steps are off, Gwyn—you’ll get yourself killed that way. Eyes on your opponent, don’t look away. Hold your breath, don’t let them know you’re there.

Because he knew it mattered to her. That she wouldn’t be caught off guard ever again, that Gwyn would never let someone hurt her. Often, she wondered if he didn’t understand that pain, if it didn’t mirror some tragedy of his own. They didn’t talk about it—they didn’t need to. It was an understanding between them, something so intimate she would never share it with another living soul.

She kept waiting for Azriel to step back, to tell her she’d done enough, that she should finish with Cassian. He never did. Even when he was gone, Gwyn practiced knowing he’d want to see the progress she’d made while he was gone. And when he returned, he’d wait on the roof even when she’d flippantly told him it would be easier to just send word via letter.

I don’t mind waiting.

Those words still felt so charged to her. Like he was trying to say something else, eyes glittering and bright like the stars overheard. Gwyn pulled herself from her thoughts to look up at Azriel looming overhead, his wings flared around him as if he was trying to make himself seem larger. It was working—he was massive, muscular and tall and just like before, half fallen angel, half terrifying god come to earth so he might reign. 

“You look cold,” Azriel commented, caught looking at her. 

Gwyn put her hands on her hips. So what if he was? “I’m not.”

“Bullshit.”

Smothering a smile, Gwyn asked with faux outrage, “Are you calling me a liar?”

She swore the corners of his lips twitched. “To your face, even.”

“The cold doesn’t bother me,” Gwyn said, shifting from one leg to another, a gesture he seemed to register with sharp-eyed interest. Proof, she realized as his fingers began making quick work of his jacket. “No, that’s not—”

“Suck it up,” was Azriel’s dark voiced response, draping the warm jacket against her shoulders, leaving himself only in a black shirt stretched over his muscular torso. His eyes slid back down to her legs, lips flattening as he realized she was without shoes, too. “You’ll catch your death out here.”

Gwyn could smell the heady, masculine scent of him coming from the fabric, her arms far too small for the large holes. Still, she didn’t protest, turning to look toward the outline of the mountains instead.

“Maybe. But what a way to go.”

“It’s hardly heroic to die from the cold,” Azriel murmured, turning to follow her gaze. Did he know what she was thinking? How they had nearly died in the blood rite, thrown in wearing only a thin night dress against well-armed warriors? She wondered if Azriel would have found that heroic, even if it had been the cold that had gotten them.

Gwyn blew out a breath, the steam of air curling between them as one of his shadows darted out, illuminated by starlight. It wasn’t the first time and she wondered if they thought she, too, had a shadow for them to interact with.

Or if it meant something else.

Something more.

“Inside,” Azriel finally said, a gust of wind ruffling his night dark hair.

“You’re fussy tonight,” she grumbled, not protesting when his fingers pressed against the small of her back, pushing her toward the door. Heat pulsated from the touch, settling low in her stomach. “Did something happen?”

Azriel pulled open the door with his free hand, his touch never quite leaving. “No. Hewn City is unchanging.”

She glanced up at him, the light softening the harsh lines of his face. “Is that a good thing?”

“It’s predictable.”

“I want to see it,” Gwyn declared, though in truth she wasn’t entirely sure that was true. Still, the corners of Azriel’s mouth twitched a bit, as if the whole thing amused him. 

“You would devour them,” was his easy, good-natured response. “To their endless delight.”

“And yet I’ve been snubbed yet again,” she teased, elbowing him gently in the ribs. “Do I file my complaint with you…or…?”

“You were spared the grating presence of Vanserra,” Azriel said, cocking his head with a half smile. “But I will pass along your discontent to the High Lord.”

“Be sure that you do,” Gwyn replied, grinning by the time Azriel deposited her into a chair in the study. He didn’t go far, sitting on the arm, his wings draped behind them. She could see the flexing muscle of his thigh beneath his well-tailored pants. If she’d wanted, she could have touched him.

It was obscene how badly she wanted to. How she had to clench her fingers to fists to keep from reaching out, well aware that Azriel would withdraw entirely and, perhaps, never speak to her again. He’d been nothing if not unfailingly polite, besides…though…he had been looking at her in the clingy, short nightdress, hadn’t he? 

Just because you were cold, her mind reminded her. After all, she was still wearing his jacket. Gwyn shrugged out of it, heat blooming over her cheeks as she shoved it into his lap. There. She’d gotten to touch him without him knowing and give him back his jacket before she convinced herself to keep it.

And possibly sleep in it.

Azriel arched a dark brow, hazel eyes staring at the rumpled fabric now balled in his lap. “What did the jacket do to offend you?” he asked, taking it in broad, callused hands. He’d removed his siphons, leaving the scarred skin wholly on display. She wondered what had happened to him—and why. 

If he’d ever gotten his revenge for it.

“It’s yours—that’s enough,” she replied flippantly. Holding her gaze, Azriel picked up the jacket and brought it to his nose. Time seemed to stop, frozen entirely as she watched him do this.

And he watched her, daring her to say something. She opened her mouth, gaping, only to close it.

And Azriel smiled. Broad and unrestrained, as if he were so delighted he couldn’t help himself. Tilting his head toward the roof, he murmured, “House—some tea, if you don’t mind.”

Of course the house didn’t mind. Two cups of steaming tea rattled on the coffee table before them, complete with sugar and honey, if either of them wanted it.

Gwyn didn’t think she could pick up a cup without betraying the rattle of her hands. Why? Azriel had discarded the jacket casually, tossing it to another chair like it was uninteresting to him. And was he closer, now? His thigh was, she was certain, but had his arm always been behind her. If she moved a few inches, he could have slid into the seat to join her.

He could pull you into his lap if he wanted. 

Which, of course, he didn’t

Didn’t he?

“Why are you here?” she asked, hating that breathless quality of her voice. Azriel heard it, too, head snapping to the side, nose flared as though searching for something she couldn’t place. 

“I like to be near you,” he replied. He could have thrown her across the room and surprised her less. Once again, Gwyn opened her mouth only for no sound to leave her throat. 

“You—you’re never here,” she finally managed. Azriel leaned forward, the faelights gilding the dark ink of his tattoos scrawled over his biceps. He took one of the cups and handed it to her, fingers brushing her own.

“I can’t stand being around you,” was his maddening, level response. 

Gwyn’s stomach sank. “What?”

She couldn’t drink—not when such a strange admission hung between them. Azriel, so unused to verbosity, was now forced to explain himself. It occurred to her just as he turned fully to look at her, some of the color drained from his otherwise beautiful face, that perhaps he wanted this confrontation. She didn’t, though, and wished she could have told him so. Things were fine between them—distant, maybe, and filled with a lopsided yearning on her end, but that was better than whatever he was about to do.

Gwyn had the distinct feeling Azriel was about to crush her. Emotionally ruin her. Destroy her so recklessly there would be no coming back.

“You still don’t feel it?” he asked instead, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “After all this time?”

A new fear speared through her gut. There was only one thing Azriel could possibly feel—and one thing she could possibly not. Gwyn had to set the shaking cup of tea down before bolting from her chair, arms wrapped around her chest. 

“You don’t feel anything,” she declared, deciding if she felt nothing, neither did Azriel. 

Pain lanced across his expression, replaced by grim determination. As he stood, Gwyn knew Azriel wasn’t going to let it go until they both felt exactly as he did—until she felt the mating bond. 

Gwyn shook her head, backing away as he advanced. “Don’t do this, Azriel—”

“Is it that terrible, then?” he asked her, his low words filled with a familiar emotion. One she recognized all too well—the loathing, the self-hatred, the expectation that of course she would reject him. 

“It’s—” Gwyn couldn’t breathe for the closeness of him, for the wanting to touch him. And maybe she did feel it, in her way. Had felt it the moment he’d strode into that cursed, wrecked room looking like the god of vengeance. She’d merely been too hurt to know it, too broken, too emotionally devastated. He should have frightened her and he never had.

Even then, towering over her with his muscular frame, Gwyn didn’t flinch away. She merely met his gaze with blazing defiance.

“You’re wrong,” she told him, keeping her voice light as she pushed at his chest so she could slip around him. “Or mistaken. There is no bond and I’m certain if you saw a healer, they’d—” Azriel grabbed her wrist, spinning her so her back was pressed to the floral papered wall behind her. Dipping his head, Azriel ran his nose the length of her neck.

“You’re no mistake, Gwyn.”

“I am,” she whispered without meaning to. Azriel could do so much better. Surely…surely he wanted better. What had that been like for him, she wondered, and before she could stop herself, she added, “When did you feel it?”

Something primal flared in those bright eyes of his. “Dinner with Nesta and Cassian. You touched my hand and I…” Holding up the offending hand, Azriel flexed his fingers in memory. “I felt the snap.”

That had been almost a year. It had been the last time Azriel had dinner with all of them, and right after she’d formally moved into the House of Wind. Gwyn still remembered that night—Azriel had bolted before dessert, murmuring something about needed to talk to Rhys. Gwyn had thought nothing of it—might never have thought about it again had he not pinned her against a wall to declare that had been the moment he’d felt a mating bond snap. 

“We’ve been training together for months,” she replied with no small amount of outrage. He’d been keeping this secret for that long? 

“I thought you’d feel it,” Azriel all but growled, eyes bouncing over her face. “And when you didn’t…”

“Rhys knows?”

“And Cassian—”

“So Nesta, too?!”

Gwyn shoved him again, harder this time. Azriel let her, she suspected, stepping back so she could have some breathing space. “They all know but I don’t.”

“And you’re taking the knowledge so well,” Azriel replied with a bite of sarcasm.

She whirled, wishing she had a dagger in hand even has the dried blood from his healed wound still taunted her. “I think I deserved to know before Cassian.”

“I needed his help,” Azriel admitted, running a hand over his mouth. “I needed to know how he managed it.”

“How difficult could it be,” she asked flippantly, intending to leave him there so she could think. Foolish to turn her back on a predator. Azriel had her again, wrapped in one strong arm, the other holding her jaw so she had to look at him.

“Hell,” he rasped, his anguish plain. “Every minute of it has been hell.” 

In Gwyn’s defense, she managed one, final, protest. “It’s just—”

His mouth covered hers before she could finish that statement, could say what they both knew she’d been thinking. As if he found the words so abhorrent he wouldn’t hear them, would swallow them until he’d snuffed them from their very existence.

Gwyn forgot what she’d been about to say at all. She’d thought about what it might be like to kiss him. If his mouth would be soft or rough, if he kissed like he fought or if there was passion bubbling beneath his icy exterior. She hadn’t been prepared for what it would feel like or how desire would overtake her so thoroughly she didn’t care about anything else. Were those her hands cupping his neck? Her lips hungrily kissing him back like a crazed, desperate creature?

Her tongue meeting his own, her legs moving until he had her back against the wall so he could press the length of his body against hers? 

There was only one thought in her name, an echo repeated over and over. Mate. Mate. Mate. 

Maybe he should have just kissed her at that dinner. Skipped the yearning, the anguish, the uncertainty. At least they would have been kissing, anyway. Gwyn forgot herself entirely, nails digging against his shoulder until Azriel helpfully hoisted her into the air so she could wrap her legs around his waist.

“Don’t talk about my mate like that,” he panted, dragging his teeth against her neck. “I love her.”

Gwyn whimpered. What did she say to that? As it turned out—nothing. Azriel kissed her again, sparing them both whatever incoherent nonsense might have tumbled from her lips. She might have sworn she loved him too, if only to convince him to keep kissing her like he was.

Gwyn was certain Azriel’s kiss had ruined her life. How was she supposed to go back to things as they were before? It wasn't knowing that he was her mate, but knowing the way his hands felt cupped against her face and the way wildfire sparked in her blood when his tongue slid into her mouth? 

The worst of it was when his hands left her ass, letting her slide down the hard slab of his body before she was ready. He pulled away, lips swollen and eyes wild, to take a healthy step away from her, though it seemed to take an immense amount of effort. For her part, she kept herself pressed to the wall, unsure what was happening.

“You know now,” Azriel managed, his voice hoarse, “and that’s…that’s all I wanted. I ah…I should go before—”

“You’re leaving?” she asked, strangely hurt by this new rejection. Gwyn knew all about mating bonds. What fae didn’t? Before she’d come here, she’d once dreamt of her own mate, giggling with her sister in their bunks as they imagined what that person might be like. If they existed at all, given the rarity of such a thing. It was almost funny that he’d been right here all along, close enough she could literally touch. 

And he was going to leave? He didn’t want to accept it? Did she? It was all happening so fast but of course you didn’t reject a mate. She could see the wariness on his face, could watch in real time as he pulled up his defenses as she realized that yes. That was exactly his expectation.

Why? She knew from Nesta’s stories that Azriel was well sought after. And she wasn’t blind. What female didn’t dream of a male with his bone structure? He was powerful and close to the High Lord, and beyond all that, Azriel was kind. A genuinely good person, the sort of male one could spend centuries with if they wanted.

What could she even offer him? Gwyn’s thoughts raced, listing all the reasons he ought to have stopped, why keeping this a secret made so much sense. She didn’t notice Azriel creeping closer and closer until his fingers were under her chin, lifting her face so she had to look at him. 

“You’re doing it again,” he murmured, his voice dark and dangerous. “Thinking unkind thoughts about my mate.”

“You can’t tell me what to think,” she shot back, her own voice trembling a little. He was so certain, so unbothered and in her entire life, had anyone ever immediately felt that way about her?

Nesta and Emerie. Catrin. 

Azriel.

“You have it all wrong,” Azriel murmured and she wondered if perhaps he could read her mind. “It is you who could do so much better.”

His words drew a gust of laughter from her lips. The mother had certainly chosen well, putting the two of them together. What a pair—she wondered who would relent first? Her, or Azriel? Who would believe they deserved a mating bond first? It occurred to Gwyn, as she reached for his arm to pull him closer, that she was a shade too competitive—she wanted it to be him who broke first. Who relented first, who believed he was worthy, was deserving. 

And she could see, from that golden glint burning in his own gaze, that he was thinking the exact same thing. 

“You’re stupid,” she whispered, surging up on her tiptoes to kiss him again. She could taste the smile spreading over his face, sweet against the warm heat of his mouth. It took her an embarrassing amount of time to realize he wasn’t smiling because she’d told him to stop talking, but because she was kissing him. Gwyn hadn’t even considered not kissing.

He was her mate, after all. He was hers. She felt that the way she felt her own heart, the possession, the desire, the heat. She didn’t feel the cord the way everyone spoke of, but perhaps that was mere metaphor. After all, Gwyn believed Azriel wouldn’t lie to her about something so life altering.

Besides. She liked kissing him, new as it was. Azriel was unhurried and thorough, just like every other task she’d ever seen him undertake. And for the first time in a long time, she wondered what it would be like if he paid her that sort of attention in the bedroom. They stood there like that, his arm keeping her on her toes, steady against his warm, solid body. Momentarily, Gwyn wondered what might happen if Nesta and Cassian were to come in and decided she didn’t care.

How many times had she walked in on them in far more compromising positions, besides? 

Tiny steps had Gwyn flush against the wood wall, pressed against Azriel’s hard body and oh. He wanted her. Wanted her in a way that emptied her mind of all other thought beyond the desire to touch him.

And she was allowed, she realized with giddiness. He belonged to her. It was a possessive thought that overrode everything else, including all her good sense. He was hers.

“Mine,” she whispered into his mouth, not meaning to. Azriel groaned, tangling a hand in her hair to tilt back her head, his tongue delving back between her teeth to really taste her. Without the leathers he usually wore, it was surprisingly easy to find the golden buttons on his jacket, undoing them before Azriel’s own brain seemed to catch up with what was happening.

His wings flared, enveloping around them for a moment as he pulled back, his breathing heavy.

“Cassian will be home soon,” he whispered, holding her close against him as if he expected his friend to take her away. “Nesta too.” “You have a bedroom here, right?” Gwyn said with more daring than she felt. Azriel’s once half-lidded eyes flew open, those hazel eyes searching her own. 

“I do,” he whispered, swallowing audibly. “There’s no rush—”

“Please?”

One moment she’d been standing there, her hand flat against the white, linen shirt Azriel wore beneath his jacket and the next her feet were in the air, her body cradled against him as he walked.

“I can’t think when you’re around,” Azriel was saying, his steps echoing against the wood. “Can’t think just looking at you. Sometimes I think I’ll wake up and this will have all been a dream.”

“It’s real,” she replied, pressing her lips to his neck. “I’m real. We’re real.”

He shuddered, all but running up a flight of stairs. There was no reaction when his wing clipped a door frame nor did he say a word when he had to use his nice shoe to slam his bedroom door shut. Gwyn wasn’t given the opportunity to really look around his space, either—though it seemed sparse and filled with dark, moody colors. 

Azriel had her on the bed, his own body over top her own before she could exhale the breath she’d just taken. 

“Tell me to stop,” he said, the maddening male. She would have told him she didn’t want him to, but he was kissing her again, his burning lips all but bruising her own. Drawing a leg up, Gwyn could line up their otherwise mismatched bodies so he was pressed exactly where she wanted him. 

They were going to do this. She wanted to do this. When she managed to take a breath, the taste of blood faint against her tongue, she rasped, “Take this off.”

Azriel was on his knees in a moment, shucking off his jacket before all but ripping off his shirt, too. There in the dark with nothing but silvery moonlight to illuminate him, Gwyn was allowed to really look at him. 

He didn’t move, a lock of dark hair half obscuring the intensity of his gaze. “All of it,” she decided before she lost her nerve. 

Azriel cocked his head, his lips pursed as though he’d tell her no.

“Please,” she added.

Azriel groaned again, softer this time. Somewhere in the house, a door slammed closed and a mingling of male and female voices rose like music, a soothing hum in the background as Azriel slid off the bed entirely.

Wings tucked tightly against his toned back, he quietly locked his door before turning back to her. “We don’t have to,” he said, his fingers hovering over the laces of his pants. Gwyn had a suspicion Azriel would spend the next century saying this and she’d spend the next century  reassuring him that she wanted all of it. All of him.

Maybe he’d realize in the morning when she snuck into the kitchen and begged the house for his favorite meal. She had no idea what it was, but surely the magic that governed this place did? Would he eat it from her hands? Or would he balk, certain this was just another dream?

“I know,” she said, leaning up on her elbows. “Take it all off, anyway.”

Gwyn knew what Azriel was wondering but her past was murky—forgotten in the dark, the ugly replaced with his easy, unassuming beauty. Still, she held her breath as he undressed entirely, drinking in the sight of him. This was the male she’d knocked to the ground, the very same that could kill another person without a second thought.

Underneath the thick, armored leathers and weapons lay just a male made of skin and bone. Gwyn’s eyes traced the tattoos adorning his shoulders and chest, the intricate swirls snaking up his neck and vanishing behind his back. Every inch of him was muscled, softer now that he was relaxed and still present just below the warm brown of his flesh.

And between his legs…

Gwyn giggled. She couldn’t help herself. It was so big—surely they weren’t supposed to be that large? That thick? There was an air of male pride shimmering around him, his legs spread a little wider as if to say, drink it all in. 

“Are you laughing at me?” he asked, his voice a dark, teasing growl. Prowling forward, Gwyn’s heart spiked loud enough he must have heard.

“I wasn’t prepared for…” For what? For him? Azriel was so quiet, so unassuming…she just assumed if he had all that going on he’d brag a little more? Swagger about the way Cassian always was? 

“I’d be a poor mate if I left you wanting,” he replied, his eyes glazed over once his knees hit the edge of the bed. Perhaps it was the sight of her, still dressed, scrambling on her hands and knees so she could crawl toward him. She just wanted to touch, to feel if his cock was as hard as it looked. 

Azriel sucked in a breath when her fingers curled around the base of his shaft, just barely touching. Looking up, she murmured, “Is this what you like?”

“I like you,” he replied, scooping up her hair in his hands as Gwyn stroked him experimentally. He choked out a sound, his heartbeat thudding in her ears. She supposed that was her answer—he liked the way she touched him.

Pride filled her chest knowing she could please her mate, even with something as simple as touching him. Gwyn stroked again, letting her wrist twist at the end as her eyes refused to leave his face.

“Gods,” he whispered, his wings tightening against his back. “I’ve imagined…Gwyn…”

She was allowed a third pass before he pushed her back, her clothes pulled off her body so quickly all she managed was to lift her hips and raise her arms. 

“Do you know how many nights I’ve laid in this exact bed and imagined you just like this?” Azriel began, his voice a dark, sultry whisper. “Splayed out…naked…undone?”

“No,” she squeaked out in response, half embarrassed to be undressed before him. Azriel’s gaze burned against her skin, warming a path from her collarbone to her thighs. 

“Would you like to know what I dream about at night?” he questioned, sinking to his knees so he was eye level with the edge of the bed. 

Arousal ribboned through her, making a fool out of her. “Yes,” she replied, strangely excited to be the object of this man’s fantasies. 

Strong, scarred fingers curled around her thighs, pushing them wider before hooking them over his shoulders. He was staring at her cunt, now, studying her like she was some priceless piece of art. 

“I dream of tasting you,” Azriel breathed, the warmth of his breath fanning against her. Gwyn squirmed when he kissed her inner thigh—the left, and then the right—before using his tongue to lightly take that first taste he’d been dreaming of. Gwyn might have asked him how he liked it had it not felt so good. 

Besides, she knew he liked it—Azriel groaned loudly, spreading her apart wider with his fingers so he could taste her everywhere. Gone was his slow exploration, his desire to take his time. All of it had been replaced with the animal kneeling between her legs, licking and touching her cunt like his life depended on it. 

All traces of her embarrassment evaporated, leaving only instinct behind. Gwyn surrendered to the urge, letting desire wash over her until it was all she knew. “Don’t stop,” she breathed, well aware he probably couldn’t. 

Azriel pushed a finger into her gently, moaning at whatever he felt. Gwyn hadn’t considered what it would feel like to share space with him—to feel him inside her own body but now…

“Az,” she panted, her hips rolling against his mouth and hand. She wanted him to stop licking, to replace his fingers with his cock. Heat was building in her chest beyond simple arousal, heavy like a chain. 

Unbreakable.

A bond. A real thread she could follow straight to the male between her legs. It reverberated and then snapped just as Azriel sucked her clit into his mouth, eliciting a scream that was half his name. Could he feel it too? No—his had snapped months ago and he’d just been living with it.

Gwyn couldn’t see how. If she didn’t have him right that second she might go insane. Reaching for his powerful biceps, Gwyn tried to pull him off her but the waves of pleasure made her hands shake. 

“Az,” she tried again, his name a breathy moan against her lips. Her hips moved of their own accord, grinding against him in what must have seemed like encouragement to keep going. Maybe it was—she didn’t try very hard to get him off her.

Azriel managed a third finger, a whine slipping from his throat at the effort. Gwyn just barely registered any of it, her body jerking a second time from pleasure so bright and heady she could have died from it. It was too much—Gwyn was burning, was in free-fall with no one to catch her.

Digging her nails into his skin, she yanked at him. Azriel emerged, lips wet and eyes wild. “Please,” she heard herself saying, the magic words that, apparently, could convince him to do anything she wanted. “I need you.”

His fingers were wet as they skimmed the side of her body, palm grasping her breast before his lips found hers. He tasted sweet and she supposed it was herself, truly, she was tasting on his tongue. He was hurried, his desperation making him sloppy. When his teeth clashed with her own, nipping the sensitive skin of her bottom lip, Gwyn had enough.

“Az—”

“Don’t beg me,” he breathed, pressing his forehead against her own. Caressing her cheek, Azriel added, “I’ll do whatever you want. You don’t have to beg.”

“I feel it,” she replied, running her hand up and down his spine. “It’s a real thread.”

Azriel exhaled with relief, a smile ghosting his pretty face. Whispering something that sounded like gratitude toward the gods, he adjusted his body until she felt the blunt head of his cock pressed against her. How had he stood it? The waiting, the wanting, the utter need that Gwyn was all but drowning in. If they didn’t do this, she thought she might die from it. 

“You’ll tell me if I hurt you.” It wasn’t a request, though Gwyn had no intention of telling him anything. She expected a little pain, expected little pleasure. Why else had he used his mouth first? 

Gwyn had read enough books to know that there was blood and pain and so when Azriel slid himself an inch into her, she braced herself against him, her nails digging into his biceps. She could feel his eyes on her, searching for even a hint of discomfort. There was something reassuring about knowing he’d stop if she wanted. That he cared if she enjoyed herself. 

Gwyn didn’t need a book to know not all males cared about such things.

Azriel took his time—like he knew he had eons of it, that he didn’t have to rush. Gwyn loved him for it, eyes burning with unshed tears at the thought. She’d tell him all this later, when they’d had a chance to breathe and eat and really talk about everything that had otherwise been left unsaid. Instead she dragged her lips down his neck and focused on the feeling of his cock in her body, pushing further and further without any of the accompanying pain she’d expected.

She was slick enough that he felt less like an intrusion and more like a welcomed guest, and once he’d seated himself entirely, it seemed as though they’d been made like two puzzle pieces destined to fit. 

It took a moment to get used to the stretch, to breathe despite the feeling of fullness. Azriel gave it to her instinctively, as if he knew exactly what she both wanted and needed. There was that same sense of I have all the time in the world, despite her knowing he was desperate. A bead of sweat slid from his temple, rolling down his neck and his arms shook from restraint.

He didn’t move. 

Not until her mouth made its way to his collarbone and she whispered, “Give me more.” He groaned loud enough to shatter the silence, pulling himself out with a slowness that bordered on madness. 

“You’re so wet,” he whispered, burying his face into her neck. “I’m losing my mind.”

She couldn’t help the exhaled smile, raking her fingers through his hair. “Did you dream of this, too?”

“No,” he admitted with a grunt, sliding his cock back into her body. “I didn’t dare.”

“Why?”

“Couldn’t,” he managed, thrusting again with a little more intensity. “Would have gone crazy from wanting you. Surprised you couldn’t smell it on me.”

As if she would have known what she was smelling. There was no point in telling him so—not as Azriel confessed the depths of his devotion, the lengths he’d gone to give her time, space, and whatever else she’d wanted. Would he have continued to do so forever? 

Gwyn kissed his cheek. “I want you. I want this.”

He groaned again, sliding his hand between their otherwise flushed bodies to rub at her still swollen clit. She’d been half distracted by his words to pay attention to her body but right then, when his thumb began making tight circles, Gwyn was pulled back under the depths of shadowed darkness, half consumed by the male laying on top of her. 

Their mouths met, messy and unrestrained. Strange how kissing merely heightened the pleasure coiling through her—Gwyn wouldn’t have guessed that. In her books, everything was so neat and clinical. They kissed, they touched, they fucked with nothing in between. In real life, sex was messier, more fluid. Or maybe she and Azriel merely had more passion than the people in her stories.

Those love stories had once brought her such joy. Now they seemed dimmed in comparison to what was happening to her and her own feelings. 

“I need to feel you come,” he whispered, betraying how close he must have been. Gwyn felt the same way. She needed to feel him, needed to see him wholly unraveled. All because of her—no one else was allowed to know what he sounded like, what he looked like. They got control, they got the ice but she got the heat, the impulsivity—everything he was, everything he’d ever been. 

Gwyn came to the thought of that future, tightening around him as her back arched her into his chest, offering very little give. Azriel kissed her, swallowing the sound of her moans greedily. They belonged to him, anyway. 

He came mere seconds later, his own noise of pleasure delightfully loud for a male that was so often silent. Gwyn kept herself wrapped tight around him, arms winding against his neck, her teeth sinking into his shoulder. His pumping was erratic, uncontrolled and a little desperate. Gwyn was obsessed with this side of him—wanted more of it.

Azriel didn’t withdraw when he was done, his heart thudding against her breast. “It’s not enough, is it?” she whispered, thinking they both ought to feel sated. She didn’t. In her books, the heroine was always spent, the hero falling asleep not long after. The pair would wake in each other's arms, content and glowing from the night before.

Gwyn wanted to shove him to the floor and climb atop him. Wanted to hear him beg, too—wanted more of the whimpering, the groaning and everything in between.

“It was never going to be,” he panted, kissing her softly. 

“How long will it last?” she wondered, brushing a damp lock of hair from his face.

“Eternity, I imagine,” he replied, his eyes burning with that same unflinching intensity. “For me, at least.”

Gwyn’s heart exploded, racing in her throat. “Are you hungry?” she whispered, deciding she couldn’t wait for the morning. She wanted to do this right now. Wanted him to know that this meant something to her, even if she was scared, too. 

Azriel went still. “There’s no rush—”

“That’s yes or no, Azriel.”

A smile broke over his face. “Starving,” he admitted in that dark, sultry voice. 

“You have to get up,” she reminded him, pushing half-heartedly at his shoulder. Azriel lowered his mouth for another kiss.

“In a minute.”

Strange how a minute could stretch.

Into lifetimes, even.

#gwynriel #I DID IT

[mrsriddlenott]

The Fourth Day Of Smutmas

[smutmas masterlist] [main masterlist]

~ Santa Clause Is Coming To Town ~

Klaus Mikaelson x fem!Vampire Reader

Summary: When Klaus mysteriously returns from New Orleans, the Mystic Falls gang worries about what he’s planning, though his only plan is to convince you to join him for Christmas in The Big Easy, by any means necessary. Starting with lavish gifts, attention, and affections, and ending with his mouth wherever you wish it.

- Klaus is obsessed but not in a creepy way, vampire reader, platonic Damon x Reader & Stefan x Reader -

Warnings: 18+ Content!!Spoiling(gift giving, promises etc),ig kinda manipulation if you squint,f!Receiving Oral.

It was no secret that when Klaus first came to Mystic Falls he had only one thing on his mind, breaking his curse. But when he first saw you from behind the eyes of Alaric, he knew there was….something….so he of course ignored it. By the second time he came around you knew all about him and he you, something about you lingered with him, leading him to look into your past which only hooked him on further.

He was a forward man, anything he wants he goes for, so naturally he was hounding you left and right for the better part of year while him and his siblings ran rampant in your town. Though you were mysteriously never hurt, mentally or physically, something that didn’t go unnoticed by you. By the time Klaus was told of a plot against him in New Orleans, you were ready to accept him, his faults and all, and before he reluctantly left, you shared a heated kiss that stuck with the hybrid even all this time later.

Despite trying to disconnect himself and keep you safe from the enemies after his family and city, he couldn’t stop himself from calling you every once in a while, only feeding his desires to see you, feel you, smell you, for you. By the time Hope’s second Christmas started approaching, he realized she’d be starting to remember them soon, and decided you just had to be there so began planning to get you to enjoy the Holidays with him.

“Uh guys, you might….well you are gonna be upset but I need to tell you something,” Your voice was small and weak as you entered the main room of the Salvatore Boarding House where Stefan and Damon sat drinking bourbon. Damon, rude as usual, ushered you to speak faster as you tried to sputter out the words to tell them Klaus had left you a voicemail in the early hours of the morning to announce his eminent arrival.

“Well you see…” You were cut off by the sound of the large wooden door opening behind you allowing Klaus to saunter in with his usual air of confidence, swinging an arm over your shoulder with a smile that didn’t show his teeth, eyeing the brothers in front of him as though daring them to question his entry into their home.

“Oh come on….why the hell has Santa Klaus come to town,” Damon mocked, scoffing out a laugh as he chugged down the rest of his bourbon, standing from his seat, eyeing you with disappointment before returning his attention to the much stronger man, “We’re having one peaceful, happy, bullshit free Christmas this year and nowhere in that is the Original Hybrid needed,” Damon swayed his hands in a mocking manner as he spoke, he was coaxing him, he wanted to anger him and wanted to prove to you Klaus would rip his head off in a matter of seconds if it weren’t for you.

“Oh Damon,” Klaus sighed condescendingly with a shake of his head, “I’ve only come for y/n, she’s needed for my family’s….what’d you call it…” He feigned a questioning look as his eyes shifted around the room, “ah yes peaceful, happy, bullshit free Christmas, so if you don’t mind….”

“Woah woah woah, what do you mean? You can’t just swoop in and take y/n like she’s your property,” Stefan piped up, scoffing slightly as he crossed his arms over his chest despite Klaus’ eyebrows shot up his forehead to eye the much younger vampire.

“You are so dramatic,” Klaus laughed with a smile that didn’t meet his eyes, clearing his throat before continuing, “I haven’t come to kidnap her, I’ve come to ask her you idiot, and even if I had planned to walk in here and take her….neither of you could stop me.” Klaus was never fond of you living with the Salvatores, especially Damon, but he also recognized their close bond to you and their obvious love for you. He wouldn’t hurt them unless they hurt you, he knew you would never forgive him for that and he just would not stand for that.

With a roll of your eyes you tugged Klaus’ hand, pulling him down the hall away from the brewing argument and toward your large bedroom. “Why’s this room so close to Damon’s?” Klaus’ narrowed, distrusting eyes seemed to search the room and hallway before shutting the wood against the frame and turning back to you.

“He likes to be closer so he can hear if somethings happening faster….he’ll deny that though,” you chuckle awkwardly, you hadn’t been alone with Klaus in almost two full years. Your eyes fell to his hands as he dig into his coat, tugging out a long, silver wrapped box with a golden bow on top, so neatly done that you were sure he had compelled someone to do it perfectly.

“I got you something, come here” He ushered you towards him with two of his fingers. His gravely, authoritative voice you loved so much sending shivers down your spine as you approached, unable to deny him of anything he asked of you in that tone. “There’s more waiting for you under my tree in New Orleans.” Klaus calmly stated, making you cringe slightly as you approached him, stopping only a foot in front of him before speaking.

“Look Nik, I’m sure that whatever that is is lovely and I’m sure all the others are too but if you’re only giving me that to get me to come back with you than I can’t accept it.” You sighed, meeting his eyes for only a second before watching your feet. Klaus stepped forward, almost pressing against you as the air grew warmer, gripping your chin and forcing you to meet his eyes again, genuinely smiling down to you once you did.

“No Love….this is yours whether you come with or stay and if you don’t accept my invite I’ll bring the rest to you. Whatever happens to them after is up to you, leave them, open them, donate them, whatever you want,” His warm hand moved to yours, shoving his gift box into your palm as he watched you expectantly, your brows scrunched together as you narrowed your eyes at him before realizing he was being honest.

You tore through the paper cautiously with a smile, revealing the long black velvet box that opened to reveal a simple golden necklace with a simple wolf charm in the middle, “I usually go for diamonds but I know my girl well enough to know you’d prefer both,” he stated simply before pulling out another perfectly wrapped silver package, this time much smaller. You wasted no time in ripping through and opening the small box to reveal a ring with a thin silver band adorned with a large diamond.

Your eyes shot up to his as you removed the ring from it’s confines with a shocked expression, “Now I know what you’re probably thinking, but when I propose to you that rock will me much larger and,” As he waved a hand around your room with slight grimace on his face, “we’ll be in be a much more extravagant setting….Paris perhaps?”

“Nik….this is too much I….” You couldn’t form words as you looked between the pieces of jewelry, “I can’t accept these not when Hope is so young and Hayley she deser-“ Klaus laughs at your response, eyeing you as though to ask you a question simply with his eyes, before chuckling again with a soft apology.

“Do you really think I can’t get all my favorite girls their gifts? Trust me Hope and Hayley will have plenty of presents, in fact they’re next to yours right now, if you want to get going I’m sure you’ll see them.” Klaus waved his hand towards your door, looking to you expectantly as though waiting for you to walk out before him.

“I can’t just leave with you out of nowhere Klaus,” You sighed, setting your gifts down on your bedside table before rubbing at your eyes as the man stood in front of you again, waiting for a different response, “It- it’s not that I don’t want to okay….I just can’t.”

“Why not?” He asked, his eyebrows scrunched in confusion, his voice exasperated as he turned his hands up dramatically, “Come on what’s keeping you from leaving with me? I’ll keep you safe.” His voice was growing strained, he was beginning to plead with you now, grabbing at your sides as if to remind you of his ability to shield you from harm.

“My friends are here Klaus, the only real friends I’ve had for over a century, I’m not just leaving them” You spoke, narrowing your eyes to him as though asking him to reveal a hidden meaning before turning away from his touch and avoiding his pleading eyes by tiding your bed covers, adding in a small voice, “My friends who do not trust you with me by the way.”

“It’s not like you’ll never see them again, I’m not trying to hold you captive I’m trying to give you a nice Christmas.” You could hear in his voice that he was upset, he was losing patience and wanted, no needed, a flat out response, “Love, please I’m practically begging on my knees here”

“Maybe you should be on your knees,” you joked under your breath without thinking about the mans enhanced hearing well beyond yours or the vampires you’re usually around, only realizing your mistake when you turned to find his eyebrows that had shot up his forehead in surprise. His eyes trailed down your body and back up again, reading you to make sure he heard you correctly before speaking, “Sit.”

“Wha-“ His deep, dark eyes locked into yours in a silent order, halting your question before it was formed as you immediately flopped down on the bed behind you. Your wide eyes followed his actions as he slowly grew closer to the bed with purposeful steps, “You’ll be a Good Girl and tell me to stop when you don’t like what I’m doing won’t you?”

You nodded your head in understanding, putting a halt to his agonizingly slow steps as his head tilted to the side in a questioning and demanding stare, “Yes I will,” You stuttered, your throat beginning to dry, your head falling back to maintain eye contact as Klaus stopped in front of you, just to drop to his knees. His warm, rough hands surrounded your ankles, tugging them apart lightly to settle himself between your legs, his eyes never leaving yours. He smelled intoxicating, his scent wrapping you in a blanket of comfort as his hands slowly rubbed up and down your legs, stopping just before the hem of your dress each time. “Please y/n. Will you please come to New Orleans for Christmas, it’ll make my year.”

“I don’t kneel for just anyone and I think you know that,” as he spoke it felt as though his power he prided above anything for 1,000 years began to seep out of him and into you, “You’re the only woman on this planet that I can’t get out of my head, I’ve had women on every continent drooling at my feet for the better part of a millennium but you, my Darling, are the only one I will ever drool over.” Your resolve was beginning to crumble, the feeling of his soft kisses to the top of your legs between words had you sighing in contempt, your confidence growing with each second.

“What can I do to get you to join me hm?” He punctuated himself with a kiss to the center of your thigh, moving his lips higher before he spoke again, “I’ll buy you anything, I’ll do anything.”

Your hand melted into his stawberry curls, watching his lips form a smile as he realized he’d won, “You seem to love using your mouth….so maybe start there.” His eyes shot to yours, chuckling to himself at your false dominance, he loved being in control and whether you realized it yet or not, he was.

Your back slammed against your mattress in less than a second, Klaus’ firm hand held against your stomach, using his hybrid strength to keep you down. He vibrated against you with pure energy, growling against the flesh of your thigh while kissing a trail to your core, eyes going a golden yellow as the scent of your arousal filled his senses. You leant up on your elbows to watch him, the feel of his prominent fangs that would scare almost anyone else scraping your skin with each featherlight kiss building an ache in your lower abdomen, the sense of danger was overwhelming, knowing that at any moment he could dig into you, infecting you with his venom just so he could taste you. The thought of him losing control and having to cure you from the toxin with his blood had you subconsciously tugging your lip between your own fangs that surfaced from your gums at the sight of him shoving your dress upward once his lips met it.

His fingers effortlessly slipped into your lace underwear, filling the room with the sound of ripping fabric before delving into you with his expert tongue, forcing your hips to jolt up against his hold on you, “Holy fucking shit,” Klaus immediately began drawing figure eights on your desperate clit, sighing in pleasure at just your taste and immediately needing more.

You were dripping for him, filling the room with the sound of your pleasure as he lapped against you, focusing on the strokes of his tongue against your center the same way he would a brush against art. Your high was fast approaching, faster than ever before, you wigged against his grip desperately trying to ease the growing tension in your body but he didn’t let up. Fingernails digging into your flesh as you legs shook, your eyes screwed shut, falling back onto the bed with a sigh of a moan attempting to will yourself to last longer, to prolong your pleasure as though you would never feel it again.

His strokes danced between your entrance and your puffy, needy clit he was beginning to adore, wishing to give you a teaser of what awaited you in his bed in his city. His lips sucked around you, egging on your moans of pleasure from above him until they turned into small whimpers and whines of need. Your mind was hazy, it’s only focus being the tickle of his beautiful hair against your thighs, the scratch of his stubble marking your flesh as his perfect, silver tongue pulled out the first of many shaking orgasms he would give you as his Queen.

“You taste absolutely amazing,” He pushed himself forward, weighing down the bed beside you as you tried to regain focus, “If you pack quickly you may get another gift before we leave.” He chuckled, smacking at your still exposed thigh before pulling you into a desperate kiss he’d waited far too long for.

~~~~

Not proud of this one smut wise but I think it’s super cute 🥰

Event Taglist (lmk if u want on, off, or changed ur user)

@timmytime17 @talia-scar123 @spencer-reids-wife @ttsbaby01 @animorose @whydoireadanymore @thievin-stealing @spiderman-stilinski @evycloudberry @shady-the-simp @ashisabitgay @porterport @callsignwidow @cicicicicisstuff @mattheoriddleswifee @junebugin-july @moonlightreader649 @devotedlyshadowytheorist @rubyliquor @perverteddsdreams @mildly-delulu @fairydimples07 @shadowmoonlight0604 @80scinemvasworld @nevillescomslut @annaisabookworm @abaker74 @athenalikethegoddess @limeren @h-------n @kezibear @mattheoriddlemarcuslopez @lovemelikecrazyiloveyoucrazy @curiousshifter101 @tobyr68 @spididerman @hedwigprewett12 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @kiwi475 @stellasdelusions

#klaus mikaelson fluff #klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson smut #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson x y/n #klaus mikaelson imagine #klaus mikaelson fanfiction #klaus mikaelson fic #klaus mikaelson oneshot #niklaus mikaelson x reader #niklaus mikaelson #smut #smutmas #smutmas 2023 #12 days of smutmas #x reader #tvd smut #tvd #the vampire diaries #damon salvatore #stefan salvatore #mystic falls #fluff #tvdu #tvd fluff #tvd fandom #tvd fanfiction #vampire reader

[forever-rogue]

I fell in love with the previous holiday request 🥹 can you do another part, maybe Christmas morning and presents? Dad Eddie is so cuteeeee

AN | I love dad Eddie too, so have some more! 🥺🥰

Warnings | None

Pairing | Dad!Eddie x Mom!Reader

Word Count | 2.7k

Masterlist | Main, Eddie 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Daddy,” Eddie heard the small voice calling out to him, but he kept his eyes tightly shut. Maybe if she thought he was still sleeping, she’d give him a break. Wishful thinking. This was his daughter after all. A little hand patted his cheek, “Daddy! Wake up!”

Eddie opened one eye to find Ollie looking at him with big eyes and a shy smile. How on earth was he ever supposed to be mad at her? He reached up and gently poked her cheek, causing her to giggle, “what are you doing up, Ollie Pop?”

“It’s Christmas,” her eyes went wide as she reached for his hand to drag him out of bed, as if she’d accomplish that through sheer force, “you gotta get up! Santa was here!”

“Can I have five more minutes?” he pleaded with her, not ready to leave the comfort of the warm bed and your soft body next to his. She put her hands on his cheeks and made sure he was looking at her, “please?”

“You say that sometimes and then it ends up being forever,” she huffed; she was really calling him out on his little white lies. The kid was too smart for her own good.

“I’m old, Ollie,” he sighed dramatically, “I need my sleep and rest…just like you do. So why don’t go back to bed for a little while?”

“Nope,” she looked so pleased with herself, displaying her big gap-toothed smile as she shook her head, a few dark curls bouncing roguishly, “Daddy, you can’t sleep in on Christmas!”

“Alright, alright,” part of him wanted to say no, but he couldn’t find it in his heart to do, “five minutes then?”

“Five minutes,” she agreed, “I’ll wait in the living room.”

“No peeking at what Santa left! And no touching either,” she scoffed as she walked, giving him a stern look and finger waggle before closing the door behind her, “I mean it, Olivia!”

He heard her yell something inaudible back and chuckled to himself. She was a lot, but he wouldn’t have changed a thing about her.

“Five minutes only, Daddy,” you teased, turning over to face him. He playfully rolled his eyes before leaning to press a soft kiss to your lips. You were just waking up, bleary eyed and soft-smiled with wild hair. You were the most gorgeous being he had ever seen, “hi.”

“Hi,” he grinned back, brushing a few stray hairs out of your face before settling his hand on the slight swell of your belly. It turned out that you had gotten him an early Christmas present that year, “do you think I can get away with making fifteen?”

“Not a chance.”

“Ten?”

“If it’s even a moment over five, she’ll be right back in here to drag you out,” you laughed softly as he leaned back against the pillow, letting out a heavy sigh, “you should know that by now. It’s your kid after all.”

“She’s half yours,” he snorted as you shook your head, “oh? Are you telling me you swapped babies at the hospital and traded our baby for a different one?”

“Oh no,” you giggled in amusement, “there’s no denying that’s our kid. But…right now, early on Christmas morning, she’s all yours. You’re basically a single dad until at least ten this morning.”

“I’d argue with you on that,” he rolled over so you were under him, caged between his arms as he dipped his hand down to kiss you. He made sure to keep his weight off you so he wouldn’t hurt the baby…yeah, he was that kind of father - overprotective and always worried, but you loved it, “but I think you deserve some more rest. You’re doing all the hard work right now, growing our son.”

“Bold of you to assume it’ll be a boy!”

“I just have a feeling,” he smirked, “you’ll realize I was right in about five months.”

“I-”

“Daddy!” you couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up as he hung his head and sighed softly.

“Better go,” you whispered, reaching up and putting your hand on his face, brushing your thumb over the apple of his cheek, “I’ll be there soon, I promise. I just want to close my eyes for a few more minutes. Your son is really taking it out of me right now.”

“I’ll allow it,” he turned his face and pressed a kiss to your palm, “just rest. We’ll see you soon.”

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Alright, Ollie Pop,” Eddie rubbed the rest of the sleep from his eyes as he walked down the hall and into the living room. But his daughter was nowhere in sight, which immediately caused his anxiety to spike, “kiddo?”

“In the kitchen,” she called back and he relaxed before wondering what she was up to. He padded into the kitchen and froze at the sight in front of him. Ollie was standing on a chair, chocolate powder all over her and the kitchen counter. As soon as she noticed his expression, she turned oh so innocent and sheepish, “sorry Daddy. I was gonna make chocolate milk for us.”

Part of him wanted to be mad and blame her for the mess, but he knew there was no point. She was just a kid, and she was trying her best; the most important thing was that she was okay. Messes were annoying but they could always be cleaned up, “that’s very sweet of you, little miss. Maybe next time wait for me or Mommy, okay?”

“Okay,” she held her arms to him, silently asking for him to pick her up, “I wanted to surprise you!”

“Consider me surprised,” he picked her up and perched her on his hip as he grabbed a rag to start cleaning, “you’re something else, kid.”

“Is that good or bad?’ she looked at him curiously and he couldn’t help but press a kiss to her cheek.

“Very good,” he promised, “the absolutely best. Now - let’s get this cleaned up and then I’ll help you make some chocolate milk and maybe we can open a few presents. Sound like a plan?”

“Yes!”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

After Eddie cleaned up the kitchen and the kid, he let her drag him into the living room. He started a fire as she excitedly sat down in front of the tree, but her attention was quickly pulled to the window. 

“Wow,” she jumped and ran over to the sliding glass patio door, putting her little hands on it as she looked into the backyard. It was snowing softly outside, everything outside was already covered in a soft layer of the glittering white flakes, “Daddy, its snowing! Can we go play outside later?”

“Sure thing, Ollie Pop,” he cast her a fond little look; he’d never had moments like this as a child and he was happy (and proud) to be able to give this to her. He’d vowed to capture every special moment with her, “but we gotta open presents and eat breakfast first, okay?”

“Okay,” she turned back to him with a serious look on her little face, “can we build a snowman and an igloo? Like the ones in my cartoon!”

“I mean, we can try,” he promised, “but we’re not penguins like the ones in the Pingu, so I don’t know how good ours will be. But we can definitely try.”

“We’ll do great,” she promised, padding back over to the tree and sitting down cross legged, “penguins don’t have hands or fingers so it must be harder for them. It’ll be easy for us ‘cause we have both!”

“You’re so smart,” he beamed at her before grabbing a blanket off the couch, and putting it over the two of them as he sat down next to her, “you definitely take after your mom.”

“Nuh uh,” she shook her head and waved her hand at him. Where did she get all this sass? You, he could practically hear you saying, “Mommy says I’m just like you.”

“Yeah? Not surprising at all,” he crooked his finger at her, and she leaned in close to him as he bent to reach her ear, “Mommy’s sometimes really sassy too. She’s just as goofy and silly as you are. But you didn’t hear that from me.”

“Hear what?” she feigned and shrugged her little shoulder as he just nodded. He’d taught his little mini-me so well. Ollie fell silent for a moment before looking at him seriously, “can I ask you a question?”

“Anything kiddo.”

“Do you and Mommy know Santa Clause?” she whispered causing Eddie to almost choke on his chocolate milk. He started coughing to clear his throat and she was closely scrutinizing.

“Whaddaya mean?”

“Last year Santa got me exactly what I wanted,” she mused, casting a suspicious look at all the presents under the tree, “how would he know that?”

“That’s because you left him a letter along with the milk and cookies, remember?” he was internally panicking, wondering what the heck he was supposed to tell her. The two of you hadn’t discussed what you’d say if she asked about Santa. He couldn’t do this alone, he needed you for back up. He cast a forlorn glance down the hall and the bedroom.

“Yeah, but it still doesn’t make sense,” she huffed, “how can he know exactly what I want and all the other kids in the world? How could he get me presents and everyone else? It makes no sense!”

“Sure it does,” he lied. Damn. This kid really was way too smart, “he’s got all his elves to help and then his reindeer to help. They all work really hard and fast.”

“Hmm,” she pondered over his words and he hoped that she would just accept his word for it. He didn’t want the full magic of Christmas to disappear for her just yet…and he definitely didn’t want to have to tell her that Santa wasn’t real without you, “I guess. Next year I wanna stay up all night so we can catch him! Can we, Daddy?”

“Totally,” he agreed, a wave of relief washing over him, “we’ll catch him.”

Crisis averted for now. 

“Can I open a present?’ she asked sweetly and he nodded, reaching under the tree and grabbing a box for her. She took it gently, but eagerly and went to shake it but Eddie shook his head and stopped her.

“You have to be gentle with it.”

“Okay,” she slowly started to rip off the wrapping paper as you made your way into the living room, all wrapped up in your fluffy robe and looking cozy, “Mommy!”

“Good morning, my little love,” you crouched down and pressed a big kiss to her cheek, “merry Christmas.”

She wrapped her little arms around your neck as she gave you a tight hug, “merry Christmas!”

“Go on,” you nudged her back towards her present and turned your attention to your husband, “and good morning to you, my love.”

“Hi baby,” he pulled you towards him, settling you on his lap as he wrapped his arms around your middle and rested his chin on your shoulder. He ran a hand over your belly, causing you to sigh softly, “and hello baby.”

“Dork,” you turned your head and pressed a kiss to his cheek before the two of you watched Ollie finish ripping off the wrapping. You watched in eager anticipation as she studied what she had just unwrapped. It took her a few moments, but when she realized what it was, she squealed in delight, jumping up and down with a burst of energy, “well? What do you think, Ollie?”

“It’s a guitar!” she exclaimed as if the two of you didn’t know exactly what it was, “now I can be just like Daddy!”

“You’re going to be even cooler than me,” he insisted as she ran over and hugged him, almost knocking him over in the process, “do you like it?”

“It’s what I asked Santa for!” she was almost yelling with all the excitement in her little body, “will you teach me how to play?”

“Absolutely,” he promised; she’d been fascinated with him playing the guitar since she was a baby. Once she’d gotten older and really understood what it was, she’d begged for own little guitar. You’d both agreed that now was as good a time as any to get her started, “you’re going to be a natural. I can’t wait to teach you.”

“Me too,” she started to open the box, being as careful as she could. If Eddie had passed on his love of music to her, he also passed on the knowledge of care and respect for the instruments.

You shifted slightly so you could turn to Eddie and leaned in towards him, lowering your voice, “do you think we should tell her? That way she’ll have plenty of time to process beforehand…”

“I think now is an excellent time to tell her,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your cheek before looking back at Ollie, “hey kiddo, your mother and I have something to tell you.”

“What is it?” she plopped onto the floor and looked at the two of you with curious eyes. She tapped her chin thoughtfully for a moment, surprisingly introspective for such a small thing. Before either of you could say anything she made a small sound, “oh. Is it about the new baby?”

Your mouth dropped open as you and Eddie exchanged surprised looks. Both of you pointed at each other in surprise, trying to figure out if either of you had spilled the beans. You shook your head and Eddie did the same. He looked at daughter in amusement as she continued to try and unwrap the box, “Olivia May Munson, how did you know that?”

She shrugged, playing it off for a moment as the two of you waited for her to go on, “Mommy’s been sick in the mornings, and I heard her tell you about going to the doctor. Lilly said that her mom was sick a lot in the mornings and they told her she was getting a sister.”

You leaned into Eddie and whispered in his ear, “she’s way too smart and perceptive for her own good.”

“She’s your daughter after all,” he beamed, “guess the cat’s out of the bag.”

“Is it true?” she paused and looked at both of you, her brows knitting together, “is there a new baby?”

“It’s true,” you promised, reaching out for her to come over. She clambered over and sat down in your lap, “you’re going to be a big sister soon. You’re going to have a brother or a sister!”

“Wow,” her eyes lit up and you could tell that she was genuinely excited, “that’s cool! I hope it’s a brother…wait no - a sister! Well, either one really.”

“You’re such a good girl,” Eddie stroked her chubby little cheek, nothing but fondness coloring his voice, “we love you so much, Ollie. And that is never going to change. You’re always going to be our baby girl. We’ll always love you.”

“I know,” she put a chubby little hand on both of your cheeks, “I love you too.”

“Good,” you grinned, “glad to know we’re all on the same page.”

“Yes,” she promised, nodding and causing her unruly curls to bounce wildly, “now can we finish opening presents?”

“Never change, kid,” Eddie laughed as he wrapped an arm around you, “I love you both so much, my girls -  my boy!”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson imagine #dad!eddie x mom!reader #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn x you #st

[andreafmn]

12 Days of Ficmas ❅ Day 1

Word Count: 4.8K Paring:  Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader Prompt @alloftheprompts: Character A and Character B broke up but now they meet at a Christmas party.

Summary: In unpredictable Beacon Hills, Stiles and (Y/N) being together was one of the only things that made sense. But sometimes the smallest of changes can create the biggest of chaos. And a simple college admission letter can do just that. Maybe all it takes is the right Christmas gift to make things better.

A/N: yup, that's right, I'm doing 12 Days of Ficmas again (even if I haven't finished Kinktober 🫣🫣 but I am nothing if not a masochist (and a slight procrastinator) But enjoy!! This story actually made me tear up, honestly. But it wouldn't be one of my stories if there wasn't an insane amount of angst 😅 Also, disclaimer, I have not seen the last two seasons of Teen Wolf or the movie so, sorry for any inconsistencies.

Next ->

“Let’s just get this over with,” (Y/N) sighed as she fixed the Santa hat on top of her head. “They don’t have to know yet.”

“Yeah,” Stiles grimaced. “It’s better to wait until after the holidays, I guess.”

It was the first time Stiles and (Y/N) had ever been terrified to enter Scott’s house and face all of their friends. Even worse, they had to pretend everything was fine between them. 

Since they were little, the pair had been inseparable. Being next-door neighbors allowed them to grow close at a rapid pace. It was in her that he found solace on the nights his mother’s illness would take the best of her mind. He would run over to her house and climb the lattice that ran all the way up to her room. 

And she wouldn’t ask questions. (Y/N) would simply let him in through her window and distract him until he eventually drifted off to sleep. She did not need any explanations or reasons to comfort Stiles. She simply knew he needed her, and so she was there for him. Because if there was anything she knew of, it was the pain of slowly losing a parent.

They shared a bond that no one could break. Even as Scott entered their duo and they became the perfect trio, Stiles and (Y/N) shared a connection like no other. So, it came as no surprise to anyone when they got together. Even after Stiles had continuously professed his love for Lydia. Even after (Y/N) and Boyd had a quick fling. Everyone knew that it would be the two of them at the end of the day. 

What no one expected was that one day, they wouldn’t be Stiles and (Y/N) anymore. Hell, not even they had seen it coming. 

Their downfall had begun the second week of December. For some reason, the couple had not spoken about what happened after high school. In their senior year, they were focusing on the present, leaving the future where it was. Because what they didn’t know couldn’t hurt them. 

(Y/N) had applied under early action to various colleges, thinking nothing of it. But there was one college that had been her dream since her father had passed, and that was her only early decision application. She had worked every day since to make sure she was at least close to being accepted. But it was never a sure thing. 

She had promised herself to put it in the back of her mind. Stressing over that envelope would only drive her into madness. As much as she wanted it to be true, she knew the reality of the situation. The chances she could ever get in, much less with a full ride, were slim to none. And hoping only made things worse.

Still, that hadn’t stopped her from applying; it hadn’t stopped her from wishing. 

“Honey,” her mother had said one afternoon after she got home from school. “Look what came in the mail.” 

In her hands, there was a white manila envelope with blue lettering that clearly read: University of Oxford. 

(Y/N) could have sworn she could feel her heart in her throat, beating at an unnatural pace and threatening to leap out of her body. She crossed the distance between her front door to the kitchen faster than she had ever done before, needing to feel the paper in her hands. Only seeing it was not proof enough that it was real. 

“I don’t think I can open it,” the girl worried. “What if it’s bad, mom?”

“You won’t know unless you see, my darling,” she smiled softly. “But no matter what, you will still be the most impressive young lady I have known. And any college would be lucky to have you.”

With trembling hands, she broke open the envelope and pulled out a beautiful and crisp piece of white paper. “Dear (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” she read before taking a steadying breath. “It is with greatest pleasure that we inform you that the Admissions Comittee has decided to offer you admission to Oxford University through our binding Early Decision (ED) option on a full scholarship.”

As (Y/N) read those words, tears spilled from her eyes, and the papers fell from her hands. Her mother wrapped her arms tightly around her, showering her with words of love and encouragement. It had been everything she had worked for. Something not even the supernaturals of the world could take from her. 

“You’re going to Oxford, baby girl,” her mother cooed. “I knew you could. Your dad would have been just as proud as I am.” 

That moment should have been the happiest in her life so far. But there was a dark cloud that lingered over her as she celebrated. She had not told anyone she was applying to a college so far away, much less the reason she would be doing so. Mostly because she was terrified she wouldn’t get in. But part of her knew it was because she was leaving all her friends behind, leaving Stiles behind. And that was the hardest part. 

For the rest of the week, as she celebrated internally, she hid the biggest news of her life from all of her friends and the boy she had deemed the love of her life. Anyone would have thought she was the one harboring a secret supernatural life with the way she was guarding her secret. And, maybe it shouldn’t have been something she kept to herself. Maybe they would have all been excited for her and understood the reason for the distance. But something deep in her stopped her every single time. 

If her friends had noticed there was anything different from her demeanor, they didn’t say a thing. In the midst of final exams and the Christmas holidays soon approaching, everyone seemed to be stuck in their own heads. So, if they were in their heads, they couldn’t know there was something happening in hers.  

But that Friday night, at the same hour Stiles would always sneak in, (Y/N) knew there was no way she could continue to hide her secret any longer. 

“Come on,” he chuckled as he jumped onto her bed, holding his arms open. “Tell me what’s going on with you.” 

“What do you mean?” she said, forcing a smile. “Why do you say that?”

“You know you can’t lie to me. I may not have super hearing, but I can tell, (Y/N).” 

“Yeah,” she chuckled softly. “You know me too well.” 

“Of course I do,” he smiled as he crossed the distance between them and caressed the softness of her cheek. “Now, please, tell me what’s wrong?” 

That was it. That was the moment that had changed them, the moment that had broken them. 

(Y/N) took a steadying breath and took his hands in hers, focusing on the veins on his hands rather than his worried eyes. “I got a letter last week,” she started with a sigh. “I told you about all the colleges I had applied to as early action.” 

“Of course, you bright mind, you,” he said. “Did you already start getting the acceptance letters?” 

“Uh, there’s another college I actually applied to. Early decision.”

“Like binding early decision?”

“Yeah, exactly,” she said, her voice trembling as she spoke. “I, uh, I applied to the University of Oxford. And I got in.”

Instead of embracing her, Stiles dropped her hands, taking a step away from her. “In England?” he asked as though he was offended. “Why would you wanna go that far?”

“It’s not about the distance,” she grimaced, finally meeting his hurt eyes. “It’s about what that school means. That’s where my dad went to school. That’s the place my parents met. That was the school that started my entire life, Stiles.” 

“So, why didn’t you tell me about it? If it was so damn important, why did you never mention it?” Stiles seethed, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. “You wanna start a new life, is that it? Follow in your parents’ footsteps and meet the love of your life there? Great, (Y/N). And you made sure you did it in a way you couldn’t back out.”

“Stiles, that’s not…”

“So, what? Were you gonna wait until graduation to tell me that you were moving halfway across the world to get away from us? From me?” the boy cried. “Or were you simply going to disappear and start a new life without telling anyone? But I guess that’s your thing now, huh? Keeping big shit like this until you can’t anymore.”

“That’s not fair, Stiles,” she frowned, hugging her arms tightly across her torso. “I didn’t want to get my hopes up, so I didn’t say anything. That doesn’t mean that I would have never told you about it. I’m not looking to escape. I’m looking to start my future.” 

“And it looks like you were starting it without me then,” he croaked. “What does that mean for us, (Y/N)? We ride it out until graduation, and then you leave for the rest of your life?” 

“I don’t… you wanna b-break up?” 

“It’s inevitable now, isn’t it?” Stiles said in a tone that broke her more than the words he was speaking. “You’re gonna be in England, and I’m gonna be god knows where. It’s better just to do it now.” 

That night was nothing like she had imagined it would be. She had hoped Stiles would have been excited for her and promised her everything would be alright. That somehow he would have the answers to how they could withstand so much distance because they had to make it. Out of everyone in their friend group, those two had to make it. 

Instead, it had taken a turn for the worse. One second, Stiles was standing before her with a smile on his face, and the next, he was leaving through her window with tears streaming down his face. What she had most been dreading was that scenario to play out, and a week before their friend’s holiday party, it had. They had gone through life-threatening and mind-boggling situations, but it was a college acceptance letter that broke them apart. 

The coming days (Y/N) spent buried in bed. Although she should have been celebrating one of her biggest achievements –other than saving lives and defeating many, many creatures– she had wasted more tears during that time than she had done the past years of her life. She was distraught and defeated, and she had no idea how she would make it through the last semester of high school, much less how she would have made it through a Christmas party. 

Somehow, they had arrived at Scott’s house at the same time, even after she had made sure she left twenty minutes after Stiles. The universe liked to play its mean tricks, but that one was almost unforgivable. 

“Let’s just try to stay out of each other’s way,” he grimaced. “The less we are near each other, the harder it’ll be for them to find out.” 

“Harder to find out what?” Scott asked as he swung the front door open, his signature goofy grin stretched across his mouth. Instinctively, Stiles draped his arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders and smiled brightly. “Ooh, did you bring your brownies, (Y/N)?” 

“Yeah,” she smiled. “Still warm from the oven.” 

“Wouldn’t be a party without them,” Stiles commented. “Now, let us in. It’s kinda cold out tonight.” 

The second they were inside, Stiles broke for the living room while (Y/N) moved to the kitchen with Scott. She set the tray on the overfilled kitchen island, noticing to the side that the dinner table was perfectly set up. “Oh, the table looks nice,” she commented. “But I thought we’d be doing something more low-key.” 

“Yeah,” he chuckled awkwardly. “Lydia thought it’d be fun to do a more grown-up dinner party.” 

“Yeah. Place settings and everything.” 

“We were waiting for you guys to start eating,” he said. “We’re doing gifts after.” 

“Sounds like a plan.” 

Slowly, the rest of the group trickled into the kitchen, greeting and hugging (Y/N) as they looked over all the food and served themselves their plates. And, of course, her seat was right next to Stiles’. Even if she had wanted to sit anywhere else, the rest had already taken their assigned seats, and the only open spot was the one that had her name. 

She gave her ex-boyfriend a small smile, looking anywhere but into the brown of his eyes. Her heart beat against her chest, threatening to jump out of her body. It made her fidgety as everyone ate, thinking any of the wereanimals around her would be able to tell how she was feeling. 

But Scott was laughing with Stiles, Malia was talking to Lydia, and Hayden, Liam, and Mason had their own conversation running. (Y/N) was all by herself. She was surrounded by all the people she loved, but it was the loneliest she had felt in a long time. Without the usual comforting words from Stiles, she couldn’t help but feel so out of place. It was the happiest time of the year, but the girl was miserable, and it hurt that it didn’t seem like the boy she loved was sad as well. 

“Alright,” Lydia spoke up as everyone ignored their mostly empty plates. “Now that our bellies are full, I think it’s time for Secret Santa! And I truly hope you all kept it a secret this time.” 

“Not that it’d matter anyway,” Liam chuckled. “We all know we ask for help every time.” 

“Anyways,” she said, ignoring the soft laughter that erupted from the group. “Let’s go to the living room, and (Y/N) you’ll go first.”

“Oh, uh, sure,” she smiled as she followed the group into the living room. She crouched under the decorated Christmas tree, pulling out the gift that had been there for almost two weeks. “I got Lydia.” 

“How wonderful!” the redhead mused, quick to hug her friend and rip away the wrapping paper. Inside the gift box was a mosaic picture of Lydia, Allison, and (Y/N), the first time they had finally considered each other friends. “Oh, it’s beautiful! I wish I could take it with me everywhere.” 

“It was hard to get it just right, but I loved how it turned out.” 

“It’s perfect, (Y/N),” she beamed. “Thank you.” 

“Of course. I love you, Lids.” 

“Love you too,” the girl said as she wrapped her friend in a tighter hug. “My turn!”

Lydia had gifted Liam nine books out of his TBR list —nine because of his lacrosse number. Then, Liam gifted Scott a new leather jacket so he could “actually look cool when riding his motorcycle,” Liam snickered. Scott then gifted Malia a light blue hoodie to add to her ever-growing collection, while Malia gifted Hayden a journal and pen set, saying it was for when her mind felt too busy. After a warm smile and a hug, she announced her gift was for Mason, laughing as he pulled out an ugly cat sweater. Once the loud laughter subsided, Mason gifted Stiles a massage mat for his Jeep. 

“For when you’re taking really long drives,” the boy smiled, clearly proud of himself. “There’s quite some distance between here and D.C. It’ll come in handy.” 

“Yeah,” he chuckled as he hugged Mason. “Thanks, man. It’s great.” 

“Don’t mention it.”

As Mason sat back down, Stiles cleared his throat as he pulled the last gift. Everyone knew by then who it was for. There was no one else left. “Well, I guess you all know who this is for,” he said. “I hope you like it, (Y/N).” 

The girl received the bag with a soft smile, trying her best to swallow the tears that were threatening to spill. She had forgotten for a second how cruel the universe could be. She pulled out the white tissue paper first before finding a beautiful brown bear dressed in a blue knit sweater. Around its neck, there was a necklace with something she could only assume was a soundwave. With curiosity washing over her, she looked to Stiles for an explanation. 

“Uh, so, it’ll make a lot more sense if you press the bear’s hand,” he stammered. Once she died as told, the sound broke her. From deep in the belly of the teddy bear, her father’s voice rang out, singing the words of “You Are My Sunshine.” There was not a single night when she was little that her father didn’t sing that to her, and even as she grew old for the lullaby, he would call her sunshine. “I got a recording from your mom of your dad singing the song when you were a baby,” Stiles spoke over the music. “And the necklace is the image of the soundwave of your dad calling you sunshine.” 

Tears had long since fallen down her cheeks, clutching the bear in her arms as though it was her own father. With her eyes closed, it was almost as though he was right there, singing to her. But it was what came after the song that shattered her. “You’re gonna do great things, (Y/N),” her father said through the bear. “I love you forever, my little sunshine.” 

At that moment, all she wanted to do was hug Stiles and kiss him like she had done a million times before. That was the boy she had fallen in love with. The one that cared and listened. The one that had made her heart race and her stomach turn into butterflies. She wanted to tell him she loved him and never let him go, but she couldn’t. Just like she could never do with her father. 

“I, uh,” she said as she stood from the couch, feeling as though she would faint in the crowded room. “I need some air.” 

(Y/N) stammered her way out of the living room and through the front door, only allowing herself to break down when she was at the end of the driveway. She fell to her knees and hugged the bear to her chest as she cried, letting the hurt that had accumulated over the years spill onto the pavement. In less than six months, she was going to walk into a new life halfway across the globe without the support of her father and now, without the support of Stiles. All alone. 

She should have been celebrating. She knew that. She should have been crying tears of joy and jumping into her love’s arms. Instead, it was the bear’s arms that she could feel. The softness of its fur, the sound of her father’s voice. 

Without even realizing it, she had begun singing along to the lullaby, sniffling between words as the tears didn’t relent. “You’re gonna do great things, (Y/N),” her father said once more through the bear. “I love you forever, my little sunshine.” 

“I love you too, dad,” she cried. 

“Hey,” his voice startled her. Through teary eyes, she looked up to find Stiles draping a jacket over her shoulders. He slid to the ground next to her, facing the house before them as she was now. “I’m sorry. I bought the gift weeks ago, and I wasn’t sure if I was still allowed to give it to you.” 

“No, it was… i-it was perfect,” she stammered, running her hand over the bear’s fur. “It’s just everything rushed over me. Like the breakup, the fact that I won’t be here next year, the fact that my dad won’t even see me gradua…”

Another string of sobs ransacked (Y/N)’s body, but that time it wasn’t the bear she was hugging. Stiles had wrapped his arms around her, pressing her into his chest. She could smell his cologne and feel his warmth, a feeling she had missed for the past seven days. All she wanted was to melt into his touch and profess to him all that she felt. But she couldn’t. Not anymore. Because he didn’t want it. 

“I didn’t want things to be this way,” she cried into his chest. “I didn’t want everything to fall apart.” 

Stiles remained quiet as she cried, a hard feat for someone like him. But he let her cry and cry until only quiet sniffles filled the air. Because he hadn’t wanted things to be that way either. 

He knew he had overreacted. When he had told (Y/N) his plans of enrolling in George Washington University all the way across the county, she had told him they could make it work. Especially if she got into any of the ivy leagues she had applied to on the East Coast. It had been fine. Hell, it had been perfect. 

But when she told him that she wouldn’t just be a couple of states away but that she would be on another continent, he couldn’t help but let his abandonment issues take control. 

He knew she was brilliant. He knew she deserved to do and be all that she had dreamed. But he feared that once she achieved all of her goals, he would just not fit into her life anymore. 

“You’re gonna go on to do great things, (Y/N),” he sighed sadly as her tears stopped. “You’re gonna go to Oxford, just like your parents, and you’re gonna probably graduate at the top of your class on your way. And I’ll be here —well, in Washington, technically—cheering you on.”

“But why couldn’t we be great together, Stiles? We couldn’t we both go on to do great things, together?”

“Come on, (Y/N). Once you’re there, you’re gonna meet so many people, and you’ll have guys falling on their knees for you,” he chuckled dryly. “I won’t fit into your new world. I mean, you said it yourself: that’s where your parents met and your life began. And now, maybe you’ll have a new beginning. And years from today, we’ll run into each other, and you’ll tell me about your job and your husband and your kids, and I’ll be so happy for you. Because you serve all the love and happiness in the world, even if it’s without me.”

“Have you even asked yourself if that’s what I want?” (Y/N) asked as she left his warm embrace, her red eyes boring into his. “I’m not leaving because I’m searching for a new life. I want to go to Oxford because it’s one of the last things I can share with my dad. I can walk down the same halls he did, I can take classes in the same classrooms, and eat at the same places he did. But I was always going to come back, Stiles. Because my friends are here, my mom is here, because you are here. I don’t want to run into you and talk about another man or the kids I would have with him. I don’t want to run into you at all. I want to walk beside you, Stiles. If I ever have kids, it’s only if they’re a part of you too,” she cried, fresh tears falling down her already-stained cheeks. “If you don’t love me anymore, then fine. I can understand that, and I can walk away. But don’t you dare say that you wouldn’t fit into my life because you’ve been there longer than anyone I know, and I need you to be there until the end. Because I already lost someone important to me and I can’t lose you too. Not you.” 

“(Y/N), I don’t want to lose you either,” he sobbed. “But how can we fight with the distance? How could we ever withstand the fact that we’ll be an ocean away?”

“We have gone through worse battles than a plane ride, Stiles. We have been on the brink of death more times this past year than any person would in their lifetime. Do you really think being in a different time zone is the limit to our relationship? I know the future isn’t promised but you were the one person I always knew would be there.”

“I’m scared, okay?! I’m scared that you’ll meet someone better than me, (Y/N). I’m terrified that you’ll realize that maybe I’m not the guy that can give you your happy ever after,” he finally confessed. His voice croaked, and his chest heaved as the words fell out of his mouth faster than he could ever stop them. “This week has been torture without you. But it’s made me realize that Beacon Hills has always been too small for you. After May, you’re gonna go out there and find your place. And this town will be nothing but a memory you’ll come back to.”

“There is no one better for me than you, Stiles, and Beacon Hills will always be my home,” she replied softly. Her cold hand found his cheek, and she wiped away his tears with her thumb. “I don’t want to know a life where you’re not there. You can’t give up on us without even trying, Stiles. You just can’t.” 

Without thinking twice, (Y/N) crashed her lips onto his, sinking into the warmth of his mouth. After a week, kissing him felt like the very first time. It was desperate and filled with need —the need for closeness and passion, the need for love. Instinctively, Stiles’ hands found her waist and pulled her closer to him, wondering how he ever thought he could live without her touch. 

“I love you, Stiles, and I don’t even want to think about ever having to love someone else,” she whispered as she parted from him. “My heart belongs to you. And if this is the end, it’ll still remain in your hands.” 

“I couldn’t love anyone else like I love you, (Y/N),” he replied with a soft smile. “But I just can’t help the thoughts that flood my brain sometimes.” 

“Then don’t listen to them and listen to me when I say that since the moment I met you, I’ve known you were it for me. There is no other man waiting for me in Oxford. It’s you, and it will always be you,” (Y/N) said before kissing him softly once more. “You’re the best thing that has happened to me, Stiles Stilinski, and you’re the only thing that I want to keep happening to me.”

“I can’t believe I ever broke up with you. Especially during Christmas,” Stiles chuckled as he rested his forehead against hers, flicking the tip of her nose with his own. “It was honestly the worst week of my life.” 

“Including being possessed?” Scott’s voice startled them as he came into view. “Although, I get it because this was completely avoidable.”

(Y/N) chuckled as she took Scott’s extended hand and got on her feet, wiping away any tears that still remained. “Did you hear that whole thing?”

“More or less,” he chuckled. “It’s a bit hard not to when I was coming to see if you guys were okay.” 

“We’re good now, Scotty,” Stiles grinned. “Just had some unresolved feelings to work, though.” 

“Can you not mention the whole thing about the breakup? I don’t wanna make it a whole thing.”

“That’s a bit hard, (Y/N),” Malia called from the open front door. “We all kind of already know.”

“Oh, cool, great,” she said as she hid in Stile’s embrace. “That’s not embarrassing at all.”

“Eh, at least our parents are back together,” Liam commented. “Best Christmas present.” 

“It really is, huh?” Stiles whispered as he kissed the top of her head. 

“Yes. Very cute and adorable,” Lydia added in a desperate tone. “Now, can we go back inside before Hayden and Mason finish all the brownies?”

As the group walked back into the house, Stiles and (Y/N) shared one more moment together on the front porch. “Hey, look up,” Stiles said with a smile. “Mistletoe.”

“Funny that they’d hang that at a werewolf's home,” she chuckled. “Although, I’m pretty sure that one’s plastic.”

“And I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to kiss me.”

“Maybe I’m waiting for another guy to kiss under the plant.” Stiles frowned at her words, and all she could do was laugh. “Too soon?”

“Much,” he said. “Now, come here.”

He snaked his hands on either side of her face and kissed her passionately. He kissed her for every day they had spent apart. He kissed her for every hurtful word he had spewed. He kissed her as a promise of his love for her. Stiles kissed her like she was his future. 

Next ->

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[be-my-ally]

Snowballs and Kisses

Hello darlings!! Merry Christmas! I hope everyone celebrating has a wonderful day, and everyone for whom it is a usual monday has a better than usual start to the week!! 

I have been MIA the last few weeks on here, but never fear I have been busy behind the scenes and hopefully more things and fics will be finished very soon!! I cannot wait for my little new year break, and *finally* catching up on all the stuff I've missed!! In the meantime as a ittle teeny tiny Christmas gift please enjoy this timeskip for my Splashing Around ‘verse to Christmas Eve 1960 and my shameless OC self insert of what I’d like to gift Elvis. 

a/n not totally accurate weather references: it didn’t actually snow in memphis in the latter half of 1959 but, this is fanfiction after all and it *was* very cold november 18th 1959. (I also cut a whole 4k of angst that will come out at some point as a separate chapter, Anita getting a poodle, and the colonel dressed as santa because honestly i just wanted to write and read fluff, but here's a warning that there may end up being more festive fics posted…a little late). 

warnings: 18+, smut lite; gentle fingering and references to cumming in pants. UNEDITED

Graceland - December 1960 

The excitement of having Elvis back at home for the festive season was only slightly tempered by the knowledge that it was his first Christmas at home without his mother. He’d not really tried to celebrate properly in Germany; sure they’d done the best they could, and he raved about the gift of a fully dressed tree for weeks,  but it hadn’t been the same as it would have been at home. 

This year though, Elvis seemed determined to restore the festive spirit. Perhaps even further than just restoration - an attempt to make it as bright and jolly as possible in response to both his mother’s passing, and missing the last two. He’d bragged to anyone who would listen about how excited he was to give out presents, his plans for even more lights than ever before; signs and lawn decorations.

While Louise was excited, it had left her in an almost constant state of anxiety, Christmas wasn’t just about the gift-giving… but it was a large enough part of it that it’s where her mind immediately went. From the moment he suggested they hang at Graceland that first year, from the first time they’d all pored over the letter to Frances, and his promises to “have a ball next Christmas”, giggling and whispering about what fun they were going to have the following year. From all of those times Louise had been preoccupied with what to get him and whether her secret plan was good enough for Elvis of all people. 

That first year he had reiterated to them all and was absolutely adamant no-one needed to gift him anything and wouldn’t hear of anything being sent over to him. But his frequent calls and mentions of the upcoming holiday belied his actual feelings and besides, Louise wanted him to feel special. Wanted him to know they’d been thinking of him as much as he must have missed being home. It wasn’t until the 27th of November and the slightest of snowfalls had occurred, tiny little snowflakes, delicately falling down when the temperature had dropped just enough for the rain to crystallise when a flash of inspiration hit her. She couldn’t send it, so instead she’d waited patiently, adding to her bundle throughout the months. Now that it was almost time to give it though she was second-guessing that two year decision. Was it too juvenile? It’s just so tricky to buy for the man who literally has anything he could ever wish for. As the festive period hurtles on she resigns herself to having to hunt for a back-up gift…maybe a nice sweater. Maybe that will do.  Or maybe it’s best to have options. 

Elvis’ melancholia about the holiday doesn’t seem to stretch into Christmas Eve, and he encourages them with all the enthusiasm he’s ever had. The party starts from mid-afternoon and stretches long into the evening and night with all the makings of an excellent time from the music to the food until eventually they all find themselves around the extravagant tree to exchange presents. It’s a little chaotic, so many people about and frequently someone’s having to dive from room to room to fetch people or hidden gifts. Louise finds it almost dizzying when she finally manages to take a seat on the long sofa, catching her breath from being sent to find someone. She was already finding herself struggling to think whenever she glanced over at Elvis - he looked outrageously good in a white shirt, black trousers - well, he looked outrageously good all the time at the moment - but there was something about the feeling in the air of the day that made it all the harder to act natural around him. Elvis had been quiet for a moment, but now he was sat on his armchair across the room, looking for all the world like a king on a throne ready to bestow his generosity on the peasants. Except, that’s not the feeling in the room at all; it’s jolly and wonderful, picture perfect - all of them slightly tipsy on champagne and vodka cocktails and finding the evening all the more entertaining for it. He announces he wants to give the presents that he’s bought everyone before he opens his own, and Louise dips her eyes when he hands her a little bow-tied box. No-one else’s comes with a ribbon and she strokes it, feeling a glow emanating from her stomach and chest as she imagines his nimble fingers tying it on, totally ignoring the fact that she knows someone else probably wrapped it for him. Still, she tugs it off to hide from the others - not wanting to be teased about how such a little gesture has made her blush so strongly - and tucks it into her palm, fully intending on slipping it into her shoe or around her wrist in a moment, knowing she’ll keep it forever - wear it in her hair like a declaration.

When she looks back up everyone has a similar box and she opens it quickly in case they’re all the same - she doesn’t want to ruin her surprise. There, nestled in a little velvet box is a ring, a huge, gaudy red stone in the centre, almost too big for her finger.  Louise is transfixed, staring at it, barely a thought in her head as she tries to wrap her head around the way it sparkles in the light. Despite the size of the gem, the band was more than a little small when she tries to slip it on, and she quietly puts it back into the box, not wanting to draw attention to her apparently larger than expected fingers. She glances around, suddenly coming out of her shocked obliviousness. Her face falling when she realises that everyone around her is unboxing similarly precious jewellery. She’s resigning herself to having to sneak it off to get it resized and hating herself a little for it, wondering if there are exercises she could do or maybe a special diet to shrink her fingers to size, when she suddenly realises all the other girls are turning each-other around, kissing Elvis on the cheek in thanks, or asking him to clasp their new necklaces. Louise looks back down at her box and the others. What does a ring mean? It’s been gifted with such casualness that it can’t possibly mean anything can it? When she looks back up Elvis is staring right at her, and she makes eye contact with him - her wide eyes meeting his laughing ones. He winks, and turns back to Red. She tries her best to distract herself from it, ooh and aahing over everyone else’s and keeping quiet about the little box clutched tight in her hand. 

Half hour later Elvis is admiring his own little haul, when he catches her eye again, 

“You forget about me Lou?” Louise cringes at being called out so publicly, 

“Of course not!” She looks around the room, at the large group gathered there, “No, uh, why don’t you, well I’ve gotten you something else….It’s a sweater. It’s not great really, but I… your real gift I’ve made you, but,” She swallows building her courage, unsure why she’s so nervous suddenly when she’d been so excited for so long; the whole idea just seemed juvenile and silly now. “… you’ve gotta follow me for it.” He stares into her eyes for a second, before nodding and standing up, gesturing at her as if to say ‘lead the way’. 

He grins at the boys when they walk out, making a salacious movement as if to suggest her gift may not be all too family-friendly to accompanying guffaws of laughter. She ignores it, even as her tummy churns; should she be offering that? Is that what he wants these days?

“Don’t laugh.” She asks nervously as they walk into the little pantry. Elvis looks bemused to find himself there, leaning against the wall of the tiny space 

“I won’t” Louise nods, shutting the door, only to hear Elvis giggle, “You tryin’ to get me alone, doll?” 

“You said you wouldn’t laugh!”

“One hell of a christmas present! to be locked in a cupboard with a pretty little gal.” 

She rolls her eyes, wiggling past him to get to the freezer, 

“Close your eyes.” He obediently does so, and she reaches into an old box of ice-cream to pull out a Tupperware, “Hold your hands out.” And she puts it in his cupped fingers, “Ok…open.” He blinks down at the Tupperware.

“Um. Well, thanks, I’m uh, sure this will be useful.” Louise rolls her eyes, impatiently tugging off the lid herself, “Oh.” Elvis goes silent, staring at the three perfect, teeny snowballs balanced in the tub. Each resting upon a little piece of paper with Louise’s very best cursive handwriting spelling out the date; December 12th 1958, 18th November 1959, and 20th December 1960.  

The silence stretches as Elvis stares at the box, and Louise starts to ramble nervously,  “I was starting to panic this year, but at least I’d thought to pick some up back in January — it snowed so heavy on the 5th.  I think it was, or maybe the 15th? I’ll have to check my diary… so I mean it isn’t entirely accurate that it’s all from the 20th - but I mean, I had to have something and well I know how much you loved it when, when your mother… and I wanted you to know I’ve been thinkin’ of you non-stop while you were away. So, here, the first snow from the garden from every year you missed.” Elvis is still staring at the box, one finger poking each little round ball. 

“This really snow from two years ago?” 

“Uh-huh… I mean I don’t know what you’re gonna do with it now, but it really is… been in that box in the freezer this whole time…I hid it from everyone. Every time someone said they wanted some ice cream I panicked.”  

“Lou.” 

“‘M sorry this is really stupid, god - what are you gonna do with some snowballs, I should’ve gone in with the other girls, got you something really good… I just - well, I thought you’d like it and I know you misse-”

“Baby, I don’t, I don’t know what to say. I… I didn’t think anyone would think of me like this, like mama did, ever again. I - well, thank you, Lou darling, this is, well, its the best damn gift I’ve ever gotten.” He grabs her arm, tugging her to him - pressing a hard kiss to her forehead, the force of it surprising her.  “I’m gonna show everyone - c’mon - quick before they melt.” He runs out of the kitchen, leaving Louise to follow meekly behind. 

He shows them off like he’s a new father, proudly holding them up in the box, delicately picking one of them up and sighing at it, holding it up at the light for everyone to marvel at. It’s a little ridiculous in some ways - everyone in the room had been gifted something hugely lavish, and yet the thing  everyone was talking and gossiping at was a snowball. 

Hours later the party finally winds down enough that Louise realises she’s one of the last few stragglers of a night so late it’s turned into Christmas morning. How she’d ended up in this position she’ll never know, and she questions it herself as she stands quietly in the doorway, watching Elvis fumble on the piano. Just his fiddling is beautiful, little snippets of remembered carols, before he hammers onto the keys, singing along to Santa Claus is Back in Town. Louise can’t help the breathy gasp that escapes her and he looks up at her, smiling almost teasingly, perfect glint in his eye as he pauses for a second to run a hand through his hair before he continues for another verse and a half. He stops almost abruptly, standing up to stretch before turning to her. She’s trying to find the words to explain how beautiful it was, how perfect he sounds - how she can feel it throughout her whole being, but before she can express those sentiments he’s in front of her and grasping her hand. 

“C’mon,” He tugs her over to the armchair he’d been sat in earlier in the evening, “Over here hon, that’s it - you’re the last.” Elvis throws himself onto the chair, holding onto her, pulling her stumbling body against his. “You’re the last of my girls left…” He sighs melodramatically and Louise giggles uncontrollably back at him. She’d had an illicit two glasses and a half of champagne earlier in the evening; Elvis had playfully wagged his finger at her as she’d accepted it from Red although she’d seen him have more than a few drinks himself. She can feel the bubbles still settling into her tummy and head, fuzzing her thoughts a little and making her giggly and affectionate. Still, she wasn’t so tipsy she couldn’t call out his overdramatic behaviour. 

“They’ve just gone home for the night. They’ll be back tomorrow I’m sure.”  She shakes her head. He ignores her, crying out, 

“I’m all alone!” He tugs her by her elbow, catching her as she stumbles into his lap, pulling her onto him, flattening her wide skirt. It wasn’t really the fashion anymore but while she’d been momentarily hesitant about her holiday dress she wasn’t self-conscious, and she liked how it made her shape look. Some might suggest the bow and petticoats were juvenile, but it made her feel more adult than the tighter styles that were starting to become popular with her peers, more herself than playing dress-up. 

She snuggles under his arm, head pillowed on his chest, cheeks pressed against the little buttons of his shirt. He pretends to choke at her hair brushing his nose, using his free hand to flatten it under his chin and she grins, shivering against him as his breath tickles her skin. They stay cuddled for a few moments, sinking into the kind of happy exhaustion that seems to only occur on holidays. It feels different than before, although Elvis is more similarly carefree than she’d seen him in a long time. He’d grown up a lot over the years she hadn’t seen him, or so it felt, and his adultness didn’t match the image of him playing and fooling around that she had in her head. It’s an awful feeling, she thinks, that even with him right there, surrounding her, she still longs for a little more of the playfulness of the past.

Suddenly though Elvis shifts, interrupting her thoughts and murmuring against the top of her head, 

“Y’hear that?” Louise stops breathing, and all she can hear is the solid thump-thump of his heart against her ear, he waits a second but she can’t work out what he’s referring to and doesn’t respond, he gasps “There it is again! Do you hear it?” 

Louise shakes her head against him, frowning a little, “No?” She tries really hard to listen out, but other than the faintest hint of the music from the boys in the other room she can’t hear a thing. “The music?”  

“No! No, listen.” He puts his finger to his lips, shushing her,

“I really don’t hear anything Elvis.” He wraps his arm around her waist a little tighter, tugging her up so she was sat more upright on his knee, her face close to his. He whispers into her ear, 

“I think I hear hooves…” Louise frowns, 

“Hooves!?” God, it would be just her luck that he’d gone and bought her a horse or something, and she’d have to act grateful even though she was terrified of them.  

“Mmhmm, that’s right.” His hand rises up to brush across her back gently, fingertips dancing around her side, “Hooves. Hooves and bells.” He pauses for dramatic effect, jabbing his finger into her side in a tickling poke. His voice dips lower, as his arm squeezes around her, “Someone must have been a good girl this year.” 

Louise grins when she realises what he’s implying and couldn’t bring herself not to play along. 

“…You think it’s Santa Claus?!” 

“Hmm, definitely…who else would it be, on the roof with hooves and bells on Christmas eve?” She giggles, both in response to his kind-natured teasing and his fingers poking her side with an exaggerated motion.

“Oh, I wonder what he’ll leave in my stocking…” Elvis hums against her hair, 

“Mmm. Coal.” 

“Nooo!” She giggles back to him, “You just said I’ve been a good girl!”

“You’ve been a very good little girl.” His voice has hit that low pitch that immediately sends a jolt down her spine, right into the pit of her stomach and she swallows, trying to keep up with the joke. 

“Well, I’m, uh, I’m sure I’ll like whatever it is.” 

“Mmhmm….” His hand brushes up her leg, “Bet ya I’ll like what’s in your stockings more…” 

“Elvis!” She shrieks, playfully batting his hand away, he pulls it off of her, smoothing down her skirt, and resting it onto her lap for a moment. Louise feels her breath catching as he presses a kiss to the side of her head, brushing her hair out of the way and shifting her on his thigh so that she’s facing him. It’s almost a struggle for her to meet his eyes, she felt so desperate for his attention - but there was nowhere else to look that made her feel any less heated. His hair, god even his eyebrows were Elvis-enough to make her squirm. It’s only a second of him kissing her jaw, before she’s gasping for him, and before she knows what she’s doing she’s grabbing his hand and shoving it back on her thigh. 

She’d kept herself for him, even as it felt that she’d been playing before, doing it for someone who would never notice or care - ostensibly in general, but really if she was truthful - for him. She’d touched herself, hadn’t been able to resist the temptation, especially after his deep voice came through the phone - but the other boys, the boys in school, the ones with blue collar jobs and careers, had all lost their appeal whenever she imagined kissing them, and her imagination interposed the image and feeling of him, his slippery body in the pool, the feel of him in front of her on the bike. He was thinner now, even still, than he was before, puppy fat replaced with lean muscles. His face shape changed just the tiniest bit, perhaps unnoticeable to some, but so very obvious to her, cheekbones and chin more angular than before. But his lips feel the same as they did before he left, and since his return home - she’d expected they’d have lost their eager nature, but still she can feel the hint of desperation as he presses them against her jaw.

She gasps, rocking against him as he roves down her neck - a place no one else has ever touched, tiny points of pressure feeling like a heat was expanding across her neck and chest, matching the clench of her thighs. His hand gently strokes up her stockings before he hitches her up, capturing his mouth with hers and shoving her underlayers up to her waist in the abrupt movement. Louise moves with him, desperate to stay in contact with his lips and she moans in upset when he starts to pull away. 

“C’mon baby,” He whispers, “C’mon, Lou-Lou let me - let me say thank you,” He’s barely audible as he speaks against her lips between pressing bruising kisses onto them, “I just - wanna, wanna make you feel good, Lou doll.” She gasps out her agreement, eyes falling closed and her head falling into his shoulder as his fingers find their way to rub against the silk of her underwear. He shifts her again, balancing her so she can rock against his thigh and his hand, whilst also rubbing her leg against his covered crotch. Louise is almost surprised at the heat of him against her thigh, but her curiosity has no chance to be satisfied when he hooks a finger under the leg band of her panties, totally distracting her from anything but the feel of him under her and attempting to stay somewhat upright. His finger feels softer than she’d imagined, and yet, in comparison to her own the pads feel foreign, rougher and surer than hers ever were sliding into the wetness they find there.

“God, you’re so soft baby, so fucking soft in here, perfect for me, you been waiting on me, honey?” 

“Uh-huh, waited, waited so long for you Elvis - didn’t, I didn’t want anyone but you.” He groans in response, his fingers moving faster. Until he’s forced to stop, tangled in the fabric and he growls in frustration. Louise feels it go straight down her body, and her thighs clench, trapping his hand even more. He pauses for barely a second to manhandle her up, just enough to roughly tug her panties down enough that it’s now entirely her bare skin rubbing against his hand and clothed thigh, the fibres of his trousers almost giving her a friction burn with her rapid movements. He continues as he was a second earlier, but now with far easier access he’s able to swipe his fingers across her clit, taking her to the edge almost immediately. She has no idea if this was something he’s always done well, or if this is a trick he’d picked up while he was away, but whatever the reason she was grateful. She doesn’t even consider how they were still, essentially, in public, too distracted by his slender fingers to be concerned about her now partial nudity. The only noise to break up their combined breathy moans is the layers of of taffeta rustling between them, as she continues to rock against his thigh, but this all changes when he delves his thumb into her wetness, bringing it back up to stroke circles on her clit, gently but repeatedly running it over her. 

“Oh, Elvis?” She cries out,  

“What baby? You’re so - I can feel you’re close,” His own breathing is getting heavier, and he holds her steady with his other hand grasping her thigh while his thumb continues to stroke her, 

“I don’t - I don’t…” She doesn’t even know what she’s trying to say, and before she manages to turn it into a complete sentence she’s shaking on him as she rides out her orgasm. He sees her through it, continuing to stroke her with the same pressure before rapidly shoving his hand down his own pants, roughly rubbing himself off to quick completion. She watches him closely, unable to do anything but stare as his own eyes slide closed, head falling back against the couch and mouth opening as he gasps out a high-pitched moan. It was about enough to make her shudder again against his thigh, the look on his face, his mussed hair, open collar and the noises of sheer pleasure. Louise finds herself bouncing on his chest as he breathes rapidly from the effort, and he holds her tight for a few moments while they both regain use of their limbs. Louise feels almost a little shell-shocked and she only really comes to her senses when Elvis shifts, wiping his hand on his trousers with a grimace and patting her thigh, 

“Gosh that was, I, um, thank you El,” He grins at her, clearly pleased with his success, and he pats her leg again, 

“Thank you, honey, for just about the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me earlier baby, it was just - I’m gonna treasure them snowballs forever, you’ll see.” She grins back at him before an unstoppable yawn takes over her face, “C’mon lil girl, time for bed.” She gulps, thinking about all the people on the house - worrying what will happen next, 

“D’you…where am I gonna sleep?” Elvis frowns, little furrowed line marring his previously relaxed face, 

“With me?” 

“Oh,” Louise swallows, “Um, I think my parents will be expecting me - you know, Christmas morning’s all about -“ 

“Don’t worry honey, I’ll drop you home at the crack of dawn,” He winks, “-gotta make sure the house is all in order in any case anyway.” Elvis pauses, “Or, or you could invite your mama and pops over. They’d be more than welcome…nothing my mama liked more than a full house - especially at Christmas.” He’s looking at her with that earnest little boy expression again and it takes everything in her not to just suggest she should stay forever, it was so absurd that he’d want her to stay, instead of the other way around. 

“Well…maybe I could stay. And, well, I mean, I could come over in the evening? If you swear you’ll make sure I get home in time -“ He’s quick to interject, 

“Cross my heart darling,” She hums at him, and he motions the crossing of his heart across his chest, solemnly holding eye contact, “I swear.”

“Ok then, I’d love to stay.” 

Somehow, and (despite his promises) to Louise’s surprise, she’s dutifully shaken awake and dropped off home, albeit not by Elvis himself, only a few very short hours later. Coming up the driveway of her childhood home it feels almost inconceivable that she should have spent the day and night how she has, and she wonders for a brief moment if she hadn’t knocked her head or something and just hallucinated the whole affair. She’s so in her thoughts that she doesn’t yet notice, as she traipses past the lounge and kitchen where she can hear her mother singing to quickly change, a new set of boxes under the Christmas tree. Elvis’ script on the gift tags declaring “To Louise, a very good girl, from Santa.” 

taglist: (it's been so long that I've lost the list for this verse - lmk if you want to be added, or taken off!)

@lialocklear @ellie-24 @vintageshanny @thatbanditquee @lookingforrainbows @whositmcwhatsit @from-memphis-with-love @missmaywemeetagain @peskybedtime @powerofelvis @dkayfixates @shakerattlescroll

#elvis presley fanfiction #elvis smut #elvis fanfic #elvis x oc #be-my-ally #splashing around #elvis x louise

[j0kers-light]

Innocent!reader , wearing a summer dress (I know it’s December 😭) , and not being aware of its effect on joker . Please bring back innocent!reader , need more of her 😭🩷🩷

His Lighthouse: Summatime Fine (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

Summatime Fine - Oneshot

Image Credit

It’s the long awaited return of innocent!reader! Joker's sweet girl is finally back in this long awaited part two!

Its not December anymore anon and I am terribly sorry for filling this ask so late. I come bearing a lil something something as a thank you for your patience! I encourage you to listen to the song that inspired me to write this oneshot! Enjoy! 💖✨

taglist:

@blackreaderatrisk @twinkledinkle @clemdango04 @l3ejm @tears-of-amber @what-an-angel @darthjokerisyourfather @thatsnoteii @dollster @cheetahspy @kaidennnnn @urdariingdoll @motivation-idontknowher @ins0mniac-whack @spaghettificationandpretzels @reneisance @alittlesmartcookie @ninacutebee16 @carydorse @jaysmentalspace

Let me know if you wish to be added to the official His Lighthouse taglist! Be alerted with any oneshots and the main story updates! 🖤✨

You are a f__king tease and the worst part? You were completely unaware of the effect you had on Joker.

He thought he purged that blissfully ignorant demeanor of yours, but alas you were still a virgin at heart. A part of him loved it— another wanted to fully corrupt you until nothing innocent remained. Yet you were still his sweet little doll he so desperately wanted to defile.

Your childlike view of the world was so painstakingly cute, it made him want to vomit. Your natural kindness practically begged him to destroy it. Would it be wrong if he spoiled the secrets of your youth? Santa wasn’t real, neither was the Easter bunny and gasp! Okay, he’d let you keep the tooth fairy. That one was too cute to ruin.

He loved exchanging your baby teeth for jewelry and other pretty things. Granted that it fit under your pillow.

Joker found it his mission to protect your naivety from the gruesome world. The extremely sheltered childhood you endured molded you into the person you were today. Joker could live out the rest of his days in your pink little bubble, but he knew that was impossible with his lifestyle.

You were still shy and bashful, uncertain of your own body, but the worst of them all—you were unaware of the control you held over Joker.

If you batted your lashes, he was a goner—forever doomed to follow behind you like a lovesick puppy, wagging his tail. He could come to terms better if you were intentionally trying to seduce him. He could fight back if you were in on this game of cat and mouse but that wasn’t the case.

Your body was still a prize to be had and poor naïve you did not know that the situations you put yourself in were utter torture to Joker.

Getting stuck in the dryer with just your butt sticking out? Stretching on the couch and practically pushing your breasts in his face? Or when you knelt on the floor with your mouth wide open begging for cock?

Okay, maybe that last one was a fap dream, but still!

How did you not know what you were doing to him? You still went about the apartment cooking and cleaning in those skimpy clothes, and he loved how you still bit your lip and looked away whenever he gave you a compliment.

You adored his silly jokes and that smile of yours would always make him a simp. He took your virginity, yet nothing really changed about you.

Your stupid parents protected you from anything remotely sexual and it was now Joker’s job to educate you. And boy did he have his work cut out.

He would try and instigate things, whether smacking your behind as you walked past or palming your breasts mid make out sessions, all to no avail. One night Joker dry humped you right to the edge of bliss only for you to fall asleep, leaving him raging hard and dumbfounded.

He couldn’t believe you fell asleep during foreplay. It was a blow to his ego and he had no other choice but to jerk off and fall sleep, questioning if he could put up with this for much longer.

He had to take a step back and remember your lack of experience. You didn’t know that you were horny and even after a trip to the clinic, you were still clueless.

You were a child compared to his extensive knowledge of sex. If Joker didn’t tell you his intentions outright, then his dirty comments and attempts at flirting would go through one ear and out the other.

Despite all of this, his little Bunny was smart. You craved knowledge on this secret world of sex—your subconscious actions proved that much; and what better teacher than himself?

Your first night was all about you but Joker wanted to change that. He wanted to test your skills giving pleasure. He remembered the promise he made, ‘I’ll let ya have a uhh, taste, another day Bunny.’

He was a man of his word and let you explore.

Joker was amazed to discover that you lacked a gag reflex and loved the taste of his cum. It was only natural that he teased you about it. “My sweet girl don’tcha re-mem-ber? You gave me such an attitude about how you taste. What was it? Uhh tangy and salty?”

You reminisced back to the night that you lost your virginity. Joker kissed you after eating you out (much to your disgust) and now you felt embarrassed for subconsciously craving his cum.

“I wonder.... what do I taste like, sweet girl?” Joker purred.

His words always made you feel funny.

It happened to be a kink of yours Joker explained. An idea, thing, or act that made you aroused. Every night it seemed you added more and more to your growing list.

And Joker’s influence didn’t stop there. He took educating you very seriously and found informative sex-ed material for you to read in your downtime. He wanted you to know about your anatomy and how to take care of it.

Your parents should’ve been the ones teaching you this stuff but alas.. They were absolute morons.

It was embarrassing to learn about your own body another person (even worse from a man), but you were grateful that Joker took the time and cared enough to do it.

You didn’t want to imagine the alternative of being taken advantage of due to your lack of experience. Joker was a bit rough but what else did you expect from him? It could have been a lot worse.

It was a miracle that he took the time to talk you through every step of sex and then exposed you to the wonders of aftercare.

You couldn’t ask for a better partner. It was why you did well to study hard and learn everything that you could. You actually looked forward to ‘pop quiz’ days. For obvious reasons.

Joker made you lie back on his chest in front of your giant floor length mirror. When you were in position with your legs spread wide open, the test would begin. “Mmm, whaT is this?”

You squirmed as his fingers stroked your outer lips in a v shape, making them slick with your juices. “It’s ah! That’s my labia!”

You felt, more than heard Joker’s approving hum and he didn’t waste any time finding the next body part to quiz you on.

Joker forced you to keep your eyes open and pay attention despite the overwhelming pleasure. He would bite your neck if it took you too long to remember. The sharp pain did little to jog your brain nor did his fingertips rubbing fast circles on your bundle of nerves.

“I think you know what this is.” He laughed as you jerked wantonly in his hold.

Try as you might, you couldn’t answer, especially not when Joker plunged two fingers deep into your pussy and started thrusting them. “What is this, hey shushhhh... hush now doll. Focus. What is this spongy... sensitive... ooey gooey spot that’s melt~ting under my touch?”

So what if you failed that night’s pop quiz? You disqualified yourself by cumming but you still felt like a winner.

Slowly but surely Joker was introducing you to the ways of sex with new and exciting lessons. Soon you would be the insatiable vixen he secretly desired.

If only you would cooperate. It seemed like after sex was over, you were back to your shy, timid self—hiding underneath the covers and asking J, “Did I do okay?”

All he could do was chuckle under his breath ‘It's always the shy ones,’ before tackling you with kisses.

His Princess was a handful yet no one else would have the honor of knowing you so intimately. Joker would kill anyone who dared try. Over time he coped with the fact that you would always be his sweet girl, as innocent as spring.

Which is why he dedicated himself to protecting you. Somehow you convinced J to visit a farmer’s market with you in the Cauldron.

It was a beautiful day out and the people milling around the market brought a lively festive atmosphere to the area.

The crowd was tolerable, but Joker was being a grumpy stick in the mud, preferring to be holed up in an underground hideout or better yet, in your apartment, far away from others. The things he did to make you happy. However, it wasn’t all terrible.

The crowd was an insignificant backdrop when his sweet girl dressed up to the nines stole the show. It took you almost an hour to doll yourself up, but he very much appreciated the final product. You were the focal point in all your beauty.

Your colored skin was fitted with your signature hue of bubblegum pink. Today’s summer dress had detailing that followed the curve of your back right down the bodice. He loved the puffy sleeves and the swooped neckline on you.

You had stopped to quite literally smell the roses, while Joker counted the buttons down your back. Twelve, thirteen, fourteen...

“J? Did you hear me?” Your sweet voice danced on the wind right into his ear. There was never a time that Joker wasn’t laser focused on you. As if he’d miss a single word you said.

“Uhhhh, yeah.” He fished out a dub for you, “Here, pretty girl.”

Ugh you loved the numerous pet names he held for you. Of course, he valued you as a person and knew your real name, but sweet girl, princess, and bunny just sparked something in you. It made you feel special.

You smiled wide and turned back around to exchange the twenty dollar bill with the vendor. It didn’t dawn on you that Joker gave you real money—the both of you were too distracted to make it into a big deal.

Little did you know, Joker was analyzing in the bun you styled your hair in. It was so perfect, not a single strand out of place. You even wore a cute pearl bow as a functional hair clip. Everything matched to create a timeless look.

He stole gifted you a pair of pearl earrings and they glistened each time you moved your head. The cutout of your dress made it impossible to wear a bra, but Joker was taller than you and could see straight down your front. Your tits looked good from any angle.

Random people in the crowd admired the living doll walking amongst them and if not for your scary guard dog (ahem Joker) anyone brave enough could’ve walked up and hit on you.

That would never happen on his watch. Only he could have you.

Joker invested so much into you; it would be a shame for some lesser man to enjoy the fruits of his labor. Joker didn’t care how he looked glued to your side; he wasn’t leaving.

You were all dressed up in pink and ballerina heels with your tall, imposing boyfriend cloaked in black and metal. A grunge king with his ethereal princess. You and Joker were opposites in so many ways, yet the relationship just worked.

He loved seeing the innocent wonder shine through your e/c eyes as he explained different kinds of knives and torture methods, and you enjoyed helping him stir cake batter after the horrific lesson. Nothing he did scared you away. J could do no wrong in your sheltered eyes.

Speaking of your innocence, it was tangible in the afternoon air. It must’ve been the way the sun beamed down on you like a spotlight or perhaps it was the dress you were wearing. Either way, Joker couldn’t stop staring.

How could he ignore the way you wore your hair? You carried yourself with a regal splendor, even if you were self-conscious almost all of the time. You were quite the sight to be seen in his opinion.

You thanked the stall owner and lifted your new bouquet of flowers to your nose.

You took in the delicate scent; Joker drank in the sight of you. Times like this he wished he carried that Polaroid camera with him more often. He could take a thousand pictures of you and still fail to capture your beauty properly.

It was the little things you did that made him want to stay with you. If he lost you? No. He didn’t want to consider the possibility. He was already insane; you were the only thing keeping him from turning into a killing machine. You and your infinite beauty, he could barely breathe right while in your presence.

You were caught in a ray of sunlight and Joker’s eyes widened in awe. Those sunlit eyes of yours… they could rival the world’s finest gems.

And somehow you were blissfully ignorant of the destruction that one single look from you could inflict. Hence the state Joker found himself in.

“Is there something wrong, J? Your eyes look really spacey.” You lowered your flowers and devoted your full attention on Joker.

And that seemed to make the situation worse. Undiscovered shades of green swirled within Joker’s eyes. He was most definitely spaced out and you were to blame. He couldn’t take it anymore.

He swore under breath and grabbed your hand. You yelped and tried your best to keep up with Joker’s long strides in your dainty heels. A few people looked on in concern, but none dared to speak up against Joker.

He was a man on a mission.

There weren’t that many options at this dumb farmer’s market, but he’d make do. He had to.

“J-J.. where are you taking us?” You gasped as he shoved the nearby park’s restroom door open and flung you inside.

The lock dial turned to occupied and his mask was ripped off. Then it was just you and Joker in the cramped public bathroom.

It wasn’t what he had in mind and definitely not the best locale, judging by your adorable pout. Both of you knew that you deserved better accommodations than this.

You didn’t have a chance to argue since Joker backed you into the door to cup your face. Your flowers fell from your grasp in order to hold onto Joker’s hair.

His kisses had a way of erasing your thoughts. Your only brain function was breathing and moving your lips to match Joker’s urgent pace.

He devoured you whole and only pulled back to catch his breath. “I need ya. Right. Now.”

He was already lifting your dress up when you replied, “H-Here?” You glanced around the stall in open disgust. Surely, he was joking. His devilish smile said otherwise.

“Are you wet for me, baby doll? Lemme check.” Joker dropped to his knees and grinned, finding a wet spot already ruining your panties.

Your mouth might deny, deny, deny but your body craved J without a doubt.

Joker peeled your panties to the side and lapped at your juices. Your instincts cautioned you to be quiet, (this was a public place after all) but Joker reached up and pulled your hand away from your mouth.

“None of that, doll. I wanna hear ya. Cry out if it uh, feels good. I know it doesss.” He resumed his focus back on your pussy and indulged himself like a starved man.

Joker’s loud slurps and eager swallows filled the hollowed room and forced you to hold onto his hair for balance. You refused to touch anything inside this place for support.

The back of your head banged against the door, “J, it feels weird.. please I can’t..”

He pulled away to lock eyes with you. “Aht ahttt. You know better, Princess. If you’re gonna cum, then... use your uhh, big girl words, ‘n tell me. None of that shy girl s__t.”

You totally forgot about Joker’s rules in the throes of passion. You were educated now, so he expected you to speak accordingly.

You mentally corrected yourself. Your pussy felt weird because Joker was eating you out with every intention of making you climax on his face. Now if only you could articulate that out loud..

He flicked his tongue against your clit, causing you to lose your train of thought. It only took a moment, but you cried out and came over Joker's tongue. He was upset that you didn’t express yourself more, but he still growled in delight before cleaning up his treat.

He stood up and bent down towards you, but you turned your head away, “Eww no kisses!!”

Now that got a laugh from your clown. You still thought your own cum was yucky. He was still chuckling to himself as he undid his belt. The sharp chime it made always got your attention.

You raised an eyebrow when he began grinding his hard on into your thigh. “J-Joker?” Did he not get what he wanted?

“I saidddddd. I need ya, Y/n. It’ll be quick, I p-prom— oh f__k!” Joker moaned mid-sentence, feeling your wet pussy welcoming his dick inside. It felt like coming home after a long day, you were amazing.

You knew how big Joker was, you held his girth in your hands before. He was a big boy and yet he respected the size difference every time the two of you joined. Slow and steady was the game until he was flush with your hips.

He would remain there until you nodded that it was okay to move.

Just because you were no longer a virgin didn’t mean your pussy could accommodate him so quickly. There would always be a stretch to fight through and overcome. But after a while, you gave him the green light to start.

It felt criminal to depart from your warmth, but that delicious friction was sought after by the both of you. The first few thrusts were always the most intense and your toes curled in your heels as Joker pistoled back inside you with a guttural groan. He readjusted his grip on you right before he pulled out again—only to bottom out at a snail’s pace. The heavy drag of him brushing against your walls was just too good to rush.

Now that Joker pinned you to the door, you could cling onto his shoulders and relax.

You trusted him to hold you steady, like he’d ever let you fall. He loved how you buried your face into his shoulder when it became too much. It gave him the perfect opportunity to kiss along your neck and coo in your ear.

“M’sorry, Princess. I just need to.. I just need. Agh, I can’T.. get enough of ya.” Joker groaned into your ear.

His pace suddenly picked up and rattled the door against your back with each powerful thrust. Should anyone walk by the park restroom, it was obvious what was happening inside. That thought made you gush even more on Joker who immediately took notice.

“Look at yoooooooou my pretty. Little. Slut. Taking cock in some uh, public stall. You that needy doll?” His grip tightened on your waist as he sped up even more. You swore you could feel him hitting your brain, he was so deep.

The wet slap of his balls repeatedly hitting your thighs rang out in the empty stall. There was no way you were walking out of here and Joker knew it.

But how dare he blame this on you? You were minding your own business at the market before he dragged you in here! You had to put your foot down. “No! Ah, y-you’re the needy one, J!”

He was too far gone in your pussy to hear your weak cries but you finally got his attention by clenching down on his dick. He shuddered to a standstill before regaining his momentum. There was no way you were becoming self-aware of your charms and using them against him. Joker glanced your way, only to find that you were already staring at him.

He couldn’t take your fluttering walls and your smoldering eyes.

Both were just too much so he buried his face in your neck. “I know, sweet girl! J-Just uh.. f__k, meeee. Why are you soooo tight?” Joker had to catch his breath and get your permission. “I need ya to cum, Princess. Ya got one more?”

Two orgasms seemed to be your limit and it was sweet enough of Joker to ask if you could cum again instead of expecting it from you. He made sure you stayed hydrated to get the most out of your big O’s.

At this point you were cock drunk, so he took your subby uh huh’s as a yes and smiled wide. “Atta girl, go on... don’t be... nghh, shy bunny. Let me have itttt.”

The audible slaps, Joker’s praise in your ear, and the eye rolling thrusts he pounded into your pussy, it was all too much to handle.

Your whole body shook in Joker’s hold as your orgasm hit you like a freight train. Your nails punctured holes in his jacket, not that he minded, and you crossed your ankles over his back—locking him right where you wanted him to be.

It was a nonverbal signal for him to let go and cum inside.

Joker chanted your name as each rope of cum shot into your cunt. He never came this much; it was making him dizzy, however his grip on your never faltered. The last thing he would ever do was drop his Princess regardless of his physical state. He just sagged his weight onto the door, squishing you further into the hard surface.

The room was quiet save for the collective pants of air you and Joker took. You breathed in his exhale and vice versa until he leaned back to gaze into your eyes.

He wasn’t surprised to find they were heart shaped and hazy. He had no doubt that his were similar. “You feelin’ alright, doll?”

Was he kidding? You felt amazing! At least, the parts that you could feel. There was a numb, tingling buzz spreading throughout your body after such a powerful orgasm. You were in the arms of your lover riding your afterglow; there was no doubt you were satisfied.

You caressed Joker’s scars with a big smile. It slipped your mind that he was the one that instigated this interaction. But almost like clockwork, the sex was over, and you were reverting back to your naïve ways.

“I want strawberries, J.”

Joker almost dropped you after hearing that.

Only his sweet girl would blurtout something so random after sex. He wheezed out a laugh and with great care, carried you over to the sink area.

You made a noise upon contact and Joker rolled his eyes at your inner germaphobe having a conniption. It was too little, too late to be acting out. You did just have sex with him in a public bathroom after all.

“Calm down, Bunny. We’ll uhh, clean you up, later. Lemme fix ya back pretty. Mkay?” He waited until you pouted and eventually nodded before starting.

Joker wetted a wad of paper towels and wiped your pussy and inner thighs as best he could. The soap was abysmal, so he went without. Your panties were soiled with his cum, but it wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last occurrence. Joker secretly liked you walking around with a reminder of what he did to you.

Joker was fixing you back presentable when you batted your lashes at him. “Okay.... I still want strawberries. Can I get some, J?”

He was still confused. How could your mind quickly bounce from sex to fruit? “Huh?”

“J.... listen! I saw some fresh strawberries at the farmer’s market like a few stalls down. Can you buy me a pint? Ooh and replace my flowers? You.... you um stepped on them when you...”

The tips of your ears turned red and Joker knew why. It was far too easy to tease you.

He tipped your chin up, “When I whaT, Bunny?” A quick glance over at the floor revealed the trampled flowers underfoot.

You didn’t need to explain. They were no doubt a victim of his efforts to pound into you without abandon. The flowers were replaceable and judging by your watery eyes, he’d better buy you new ones and fresh strawberries or he wouldn’t hear the end of it. Whatever his sweet girl wants, she gets. That was his motto from the very beginning, and he considered himself a man of his word.

Joker sighed to himself, nodding. “Yeah, yeah. Let's go get my gooo~oood girl a reward then we’ll errr head on home, ‘kay? I might get ya dirty again before I get ya all cleaned up.”

“How does that sound, Princess?” Joker bopped you on the nose. Your bashful nod was your only response. Now that wouldn’t do!

He bent down to kiss your cheek, making sure that the exaggerated mwah got a response out of you. Just his luck, it did. He smiled wide at the peal of laughter you let out. “Okay!”

His sweet girl laughing was the best sound in the world.  

#ledger joker x reader #ledger!joker x reader #ledger joker #heath joker #black!fem!reader #joker x y/n #joker x reader #reader insert #thanks anon! #thanks for the ask! #romance #cross posted on ao3 #pink aesthetic #cross posted on wattpad #innocent!reader #dark knight joker #the joker #J had too much fun corrupting poor Y/n #his lighthouse

[st6rly]

gods no longer.

SYNOPSIS: love, as in the feeling, is fate. love, as in the choice, is conscious (or in other words, 4 times where zhongli gets close enough to the truth of the matter and the 1 time he does) | word count: 1.8k

characters: god!office worker!zhongli x deity!barista!gn!reader

categories: apocalypse au, modern au, angst, hurt / comfort, fluff, 4+1 fic

warnings: mentions of typical apocalypse stuff ( blood, injury, death, etc.), mentions of food & drinks, ooc zhongli sorry TwT

notes: i went a little too silly and related falling in love to the cycle and formation of a rock. ok the au sounds confusing but i promise it makes sense- also i ended up using parallels as a writing device way too much in this my bad :’D

surprise surprise @lychniis / @ainescribe !! im your astro twerk secret santa :DD im sorry if this fic is messy in structure and probably doesn’t make sense in the long run but i hope you enjoy some parts of it at least TwT happy holidays !!

I. WEATHERING & EROSION.

The world was crumbling to its knees and yet, all Zhongli could think about was how his morning tea was bitter. 

Gravel crunched under his foot, topsoil turned over to reveal the small bits of life that had yet to fall through the cracks. The pavement had split, rumbles having left long and jagged fractures in the ground and buildings tilted. Sun bore down on skin battered with small cuts and contusions, a layer of dirt covering both his forearms and the formerly white dress shirt he wore. His shoes scuffed along the deserted road, steps deliberately languid. He screamed, thrashed around in his mind, prayed that others had survived. In the back corners of his mind, he hoped none did. 

Selfish; maybe that’s all he’d ever be to the people. Gold ran down his arm, trickled from the punctures left from stone and debris. The ichor in his veins served as a shackle of what he could not have and Zhongli stared down at it in disdain, fist clenched. For the better, he assured, pulled free a steel pipe from the framing of a store, and continued on. Gods couldn’t die by a knife to the throat. They could if forgotten. 

Zhongli knew he tore a seam in the dress shirt he wore when range of motion wasn’t such a struggle, able to lunge himself up over fallen street lamps and what once used to be apartments with ease. There was no destination and he was sure that if he had one, it wouldn’t be standing. 

He walked because if he didn’t, then nobody else would. Zhongli does not die easily; not in this way at least.

II. TRANSPORTATION.

The world was at an end; you wished it had come sooner or not at all. 

You pulled yourself from beneath the rumble and broken frames of the shop you had so dearly loved, clawed a hand through sharp edges and chipped paint, to come face to face with the remains of flattened machines and shattered glass panes. The first thing you noticed was the front entrance that withstood the initial fracture. The next was the blood and dusty limbs that laid on the floor. 

The grief was worn like sticky sunscreen on a beach day, a protective and mocking cover over your skin as you ran, scuffed sneakers thundering along ridges and bumps in the uneven lane. In hindsight, it was stupid of you to exert so much force when there wasn’t a place you could run to; you just needed out, to scrub the dirt and grime and blots of red and gold until the only thing that was leftover was whatever shred of dignity you still kept. Flee and leave it all behind, there was nothing for you anyways.

Until him.

“It’s you,” the man stated, finger poised accusingly, “you gave me the wrong order of tea.” 

You blinked back owlishly, lost for words as he pointed at you with a scowl. Hesitation in your actions, you slowly lowered the plank of wood with one nail stuck through it in your hands and squinted your eyes. The sleeves of his shirt were ripped and rolled to his biceps, hair tied back loosely, and posture high on alert as he clutched onto a metal rod with a death grip. 

“And you are…” you trailed off, voice cracked and lips dried as your throat protested the strain of letting the words out. It had been months since the dirt beneath your feet started to split; weeks since you’d seen another share the means of language. 

“An unsatisfied customer.” The reply was blunt and left no room for argument. It was not a final answer. 

If he hadn’t just been locked in a stare down with you mere minutes ago or held himself in such a manner, you would’ve snorted and laughed it off. 

“Listen, I really don’t think now is a good time to be talking about tea.” you groaned, a heavy sigh falling from your lips. “It’s not like I can fix it either.” 

The stranger responded with silence. His eyes darted quickly over your figure and you shifted your weight from foot to foot.  

“Travel with me.” 

You blinked once, twice, stared at him until your eyes burned and forced you to close them again. Words died out on the tip of your tongue, the embers and syllables smothered out in the muddled mess of your own thoughts.

“What?” you croaked out. He looked back as if it were common sense. 

“You’re one of them.” It was only after those words that you realized he had fixed his gaze to your arm. A shaky breath left your lips, the sting of the cut underneath a flimsy wrapping of torn cloth grounding. You could feel it now, the way the liquid gleamed when caught under the light, its brilliance shown as it started to trickle down your skin again. 

One of them. 

“There’s nothing left here,” he muttered, the ghost of a smile on his lips. Your jaw went tight and nails dug into the soft flesh of your palms. 

“You think I don’t know that?” The words were bitter as they left your throat. “Do you think I’m that detached?” 

He ignored you. 

“Come with me,” he took a step closer and held out a hand. “You won’t be forgotten.” 

It was neither warm or inviting, but enticing nonetheless. He knows, you calmed yourself, he knows he can’t kill me. 

“If not for that, then for the company?” 

Blindly, stupidly, you took it.

III. DEPOSITION.

Tin cans rattled softly, the noise muffled by the worn fabric of what you called a backpack, as you rummaged through food and water supplies. The box you pulled out was supposed to be white, the plastic smooth and red cross marked in the centre bright and bold. Somewhere underneath the dirt, it still was. 

He’s all too familiar with the furrow of a brow and the soft brush of fingers against his shoulder. He suppressed a shiver when your breath tickled his neck, held in a sigh when you blew gently on the cut after cleaning. With careful movements, you wound the bandage around his arm, the occasional ghost of your skin against his startling. Zhongli found it wasn’t unwelcome. 

It was you who broke the silence. 

“You aren’t who you say you are,” you stated, words hushed and still rough around the edges. He locked eyes with yours, searched them only to come up empty; not a single bit of malice or spite was present in the look you gave him. That was either a good thing, or an equally bad one. The ground was stained with tinges of gold, bits that clumped up dirt, left shimmer in its wake. The small pads of cotton used to wipe the bleeding were stained vibrant yellow. 

He barked out a laugh; the sound was foreign to his ears. 

“You’re one of them. One like me,” you whispered when his voice died down. 

“And we’re different in every way,” he said, hand clutched to his ribcage at the cramp that began to form. “Why do you insist on fighting so hard?” 

“What?” 

“We’ve lost what makes us like this. Why do you continue to try?” 

“We were, I was, never a proper god to start with,” you spoke carefully, considerate. “It was never up to me what went on.” 

“In the blink of an eye,” Zhongli matched your tone, “you could wish this all better.” 

“Just as you could make it all the worse.” You hummed and leaned your head back, eyes averted away from him. “I guess I just found something worth trying for.”

Zhongli’s heart pounded.

IV. METAMORPHISM.

“Grab my hand!” 

The Earth groaned and rumbled, opened its mouth, swallowed up buildings and wires without much thought. You braced yourself against the broken chain fence, glancing up at where Zhongli stood up on the roof opposite from you, having made it before the cracks had begun again and the distance grew. 

Grave desperation set his nerves alight, every fibre alert, and arm reached out to where the joint could’ve pulled loose had he gone farther. His face pulled into a cruel grimace as the concrete ledge of the other building dug into his stomach below the ribs and something in him burned, shouted and throbbed beneath layers of flesh and bones, in an intelligible mess of tightness and ache. 

“Please, Y/n!” he shouted. Begged. He’d bare his throat to you in a heartbeat if it meant you believed in this, believed in him.  

You jumped. His heart dropped to his stomach, legs weak, when your hand grasped his wrist and met his eyes. Feet dug into the cracks of the barrier, he pulled you to him, the quiet gasp of relief he let out once you touched down on solid ground lost to the wind. 

God can’t die. Gods cannot die, he repeated to himself, a mantra of painful reassurance. Zhongli’s hands melded with the fabric of your shirt, cloth twisted in a similar way that could only mock the feeling in his chest. 

You tugged on his hand, laced your fingers slowly with his before the rumbles started again. Down the both of ran, across unsteady roofs and rusted fire escapes, until the sky turned dark and the shakes stopped, 

Adrenaline, nerves, the worry he’d lose you again, whatever it was, he fell for it. It was winter when he first kissed you under the moonless sky; it felt more like early spring with the warmth that still laid heavy in the air and the dry crust of dirt that coated everything. 

“You should have just let me,” you had mumbled against his lips the same night. 

“I made a promise and I intend to keep it,” he replied back, the words sitting just right as he spoke. “I wish it were more. You deserve more.”

“This,” you hummed, a hand cupping his cheek, “is more than enough.”

V. ROCK MELTING.

It was summer when the ground beneath his feet first began to give out and the streets ran rampant with silence; it’s summer again when he found a new life with you.  

This was all laughable, really. Hands intertwined, the sun that peaked over the horizon and set alight to the dust in the air, the domestic nature, it all was a joke. You’d, turned and brushed stray hairs from his face with light touch and features set into a grim, yet foolishly hopeful, face. 

He gazed at you like you could craft the universe anew, match his destruction blow for blow and reverse everything. In some sense, you could. Not this one though. 

“You could find them again, you know,” you mumbled, not so he couldn’t hear but it felt right. “What would you do if you did?”

Zhongli paused, licked his lips as he stared out into the open expanse of the wasteland. 

“My love is a choice,” he smiled as he spoke, a delicate thing, “and that choice is you.” 

“Took you long enough,” you chuckled with a soft nudge to his shoulder. 

“Yeah,” Zhongli released a long sigh, squeezed your hand and traced an outline around the joints of your thumb, before letting out a small ghost of a chuckle when you squeezed back. How low he had fallen, mad at something as simple as the grime that separated the true touch of your palm in his. “It did.” 

#zhongli x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗ #astronetwrk #zhongli x gender neutral reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin impact x gender neutral reader #genshin x gn reader #genshin impact x gn reader #zhongli fluff #zhongli angst #genshin fluff #genshin angst #! notepad.txt #zhongli x you #genshin x you #genshin impact x you

[oatmilk-vampire]

Once Bitten, Twice Shy || Steddie (A/B/O)

Omega!Steve Harrington x Alpha!Eddie Munson

Summary: It's been a year since Steve and Eddie last saw one another. It's been a year since Steve broke Eddie's heart. Now they have to pretend like everything was fine at Christmas with all of their friends.

Based off of the best Christmas song EVER Last Christmas by Wham! Mostly because I've always been stuck on that one particular line I used for my title.

Word count: 4.4k of whump and happy ending.

TW: infertility

A/n: More subtle a/b/o dynamics, can almost be read as a slightly different human au.

Christmas was never special for Steve.

Not in the way it was for the rest of America’s children. One might think Steve had a fantastic holiday with how rich the Harringtons were. That he was spoiled rotten. Maybe he was. He wouldn’t deny having grown up with a literal silver spoon in his mouth, but his Christmases were filled with white lights and fancy dinner parties. Sure he got toys occasionally but not the kind he wanted. Toys his parents insisted would shape him up into a big, strong, proper alpha rather than the play kitchens and baby dolls he so wished for. He also wasn’t allowed to believe in Santa, he was well aware “Santa” was really just the kids’ own parents. He had no reason to be on the nice list because it didn’t exist. He’d get his presents no matter what. Plus why be good if he didn’t get what he actually wanted?

He also got preppy, snobbish clothes that he only just recently started getting away from and breaking into his own style.

His first real Christmas was when he dated Nancy, and each subsequent year only seemed to get better even after they broke up.

Until last Christmas.

After Steve’s parents disowned him for presenting as an omega, he feared his life was over. All his life he was raised to be an alpha, but no matter the rigorous conditioning he underwent you can’t control who you are. He was born this way. He couldn’t change who he was. He hated himself for a while there, thinking he really was as worthless as his parents had led him to believe but that all changed when he got to know Eddie.

Whereas Steve still acted as a fierce protector to the kids (even if it bordered on maternal), he didn’t ever have to be the de facto leader with Eddie. Eddie took it on naturally. Maybe that has to do with him being an alpha.

Unlike all the knothead alphas Steve associated himself with before he presented, Eddie was nothing like them. He was a gentle giant. He took his role as alpha very seriously, yes, but he would never dominate. He would never try to take advantage of any omega, especially Steve.

When everyone thought Steve was going to be an alpha, they all wanted a piece of him. Then when he was outed as an omega by none other than Tommy and Carol, all the alphas wanted a piece of him. They wanted to control the once king of Hawkins High. To mate him. To claim him.

It made Steve sick to think about what would have happened had Eddie not stepped in and effectively repelled all other alphas with his own cinnamon and pine scent that he constantly left all over Steve even if they were just together as friends.

Until they weren’t. After they both finally graduated high school Eddie asked to court Steve, and Steve wholeheartedly agreed. He knew he trusted Eddie with his life. He knew he could trust him with his heart. He loved him.

Loved.

What a strong word. It could mean everything, or nothing all the same depending on who uttered it.

Steve always meant it, and he’s pretty sure Eddie did too… Steve’s not sure when Eddie might have stopped, but he’s pretty sure it probably happened some time last Christmas.

They had been through three separate, unprotected, synced heats and ruts.

After the claiming bite is exchanged heats and cycles sync, after that the success rate of getting an omega pregnant during their heat is nearly unavoidable even with protections and birth control present. If it was unprotected then the omega was sure to fall pregnant.

At least that’s what the brochures taught Steve when he presented. That’s what the brochures taught Steve when he returned to the reproductive specialist. That’s what society taught him.

They all taught him he was, as he always feared, broken.

Because no matter how often Steve and Eddie mated, on their heats and ruts or off, Steve could not get pregnant.

It was virtually unheard of for an omega to face infertility. Infertility only really ran in betas, and even then it only ever affected one in six.

There’s no reason why Steve wasn’t able to give Eddie pups.

The doctors couldn’t even give him a reason or treatment plan to fix his unexplained infertility. He just had to cope with it.

Eddie tried to comfort Steve through it but Steve knew how hard it was on Eddie too. Steve knew Eddie deserved to have a big family of his own one day, little pups running around with messes of dark curls upon their heads.

Steve had hoped he’d be a part of that fantasy. He hoped his six little nuggets would have his eyes and Eddie’s hair, a combination of Steve’s athletic abilities and Eddie’s musical talent.

His dream turned into a never-ending nightmare in the blink of an eye.

As much as Eddie said all he needed was Steve, Steve knew better. He’s seen how Eddie was with Dustin and the rest of the Party. Eddie needed a big family, he deserved to be the good father he never got to have.

Which is why Steve did the unimaginable last Christmas.

It was Steve and Eddie’s first Christmas since learning they couldn’t mate, and Eddie was trying to make it memorable and good for them, a break from all the anguish they had been dealing with for the past few months.

Steve on the other hand gave Eddie the greatest gift of all: Freedom.

Eddie cried, begged, bargained, but Steve wouldn’t have any of it.

If Eddie was any other alpha, Steve knows he wouldn’t have been able to get away with walking out on them after they’d already each exchanged claiming bites. He might even end up dead for messing with an alpha like that, and the sheriffs wouldn’t even bat an eye. Except for maybe Hopper, but still.

But Eddie wasn’t any other alpha. Instead he let Steve go, knowing he wouldn’t force him to stay.

Eddie moved out, his decision, Steve was already leaving him. He wouldn’t make him physically leave their– his home too. Eddie returned to live with Uncle Wayne, the only one who learned of their separation.

They agreed to keep this secret, there was no reason to upset everyone or make them feel like they had to take sides. An alpha and omega separating after exchanging claiming marks was almost as unheard of as omega infertility anyway. They took turns going to events or games or parties, in some sick fashion it’s almost like they had joint custody or something.

When their heats and ruts approached they agreed to spend it with one another since they were still synced and it’s always safer to have a mate than not. Plus it was considerably more disastrous for them to be mated and not spend it with one another. They worked out a system, Eddie would let himself in the night before it was due to start for them and in the morning when it hit they’d sniff each other out and do what biology instructed them to. They could hardly remember the visits anyway. After it was over Eddie would slip back away undetected until the next time.

This Christmas would be the first time they see each other. This Christmas would be the first time they speak face to face. This Christmas would be the first time they had to pretend to be a couple in front of everyone.

Steve hadn’t used suppressants in a very long time but he did today. Eddie’s scent would forever be mingled with his, but that wouldn’t stop everyone from being able to sniff out the soured notes he’d take on due to his discomfort. Only the betas wouldn’t be able to smell his scent, but the young alphas and omegas they cared so much for were loud mouths and would be sure to ask what his problem is.

He wondered if Eddie would do the same.

He guesses he’ll find out soon enough.

He pulls into the Munson trailer driveway, leaving his car running so it’d be warm for Eddie as he approached the door.

Almost immediately after knocking on it it opened. He expects to see Eddie, but instead it’s Uncle Wayne.

Steve instantly feels embarrassed but he doesn’t know why. Maybe it’s because he broke his nephew’s heart and forced him to move back in with his uncle at the age of twenty-four.

“Steve, Merry Christmas!” He's just as happy to see him as he was the last time Steve saw him back when he and Eddie were still a happy couple and he hadn’t ruined everything.

“Merry Christmas, Un– Uh, um.” He clears his throat. “Merry Christmas, Mr. Munson.”

The older man shakes his head.

“Please, still call me Wayne. You’re family kid, even if you two are taking a break.”

It’s more than just a break. Steve thinks but nods and puts on a small smile.

“Thank you, Wayne.”

“Please, come in. He should be just a moment longer. You know how he is with his hair.” He rolls his eyes goodnaturedly and Steve can’t help but laugh, Wayne’s friendliness doing wonders at ebbing away at his nerves.

“Well, I’m the same way so I can’t really speak on that.” He touches his perfectly done hair. It’s not as big as he used to wear it, but he still used Faberge Organics and Farrah Fawcett spray.

“You boys, I swear.” He redirects his attention to the kitchen they just entered. “Would you like some eggnog?”

“Oh, is it spiked? I’m driving tonight so I better not…”

“Nonsense. I have both options for you. I’ll get you the regular kind.” He waved off his protests and brought down a glass and retrieved the carton from the fridge.

“Oh, thank you! I appreciate it.” For me? Surely he didn’t mean he actually got both options for me specifically…

“Of course. It’s the least I can do since you’re apparently going to be waiting here ‘til the new year.” He says a little louder so his nephew could hear.

“I’m coming! Jeez. Give a guy a break.” Eddie skids to a stop right in front of Steve and he has to rush to drink his eggnog so his mouth doesn’t do anything stupid like gape or drool or confess his darkest secrets like how he’s still very much in lo-

“Hi.” Eddie addresses him, “Merry Christmas, Stevie. You look handsome as ever.”

Steve suddenly wishes he had taken Wayne up on his original alcoholic ‘nog offer.

“Hi. Thanks, you too. Merry Christmas.” Steve says and definitely does not stutter, nope, not at all.

Eddie was wearing all black, his clothes looked new. Nothing he’d ever seen before and it didn’t even show the faded look black clothes get after just a few washes. Eddie dressed up for this.

He tries to ignore the thought but it comes anyway.

Eddie dressed up for me.

It hasn’t ever really happened before, but Steve feels underdressed in his classic Christmas sweater and Levi’s.

Steve breaths in and realizes he can’t smell Eddie’s scent either.

They stand in silence, lost in each other’s eyes until Uncle Wayne reminds them they had a party to attend to.

“Oh, right. Yeah, of course. We’re just… Running fashionably late.” Steve supplies as he suddenly remembers he left his engine running. “Oh shit. Yeah, we gotta go otherwise I may be out of gas or the battery will be dead or something.”

Eddie cocks his head to the side, “You having car troubles or something? You know I can fix them for you.”

Of course Steve knew Eddie could fix his car, but he wouldn’t have gone to him even if he was having car troubles.

“No, I just left it running so it’d be warm for you.”

Wayne laughs at his confession before pushing them both closer to the door.

“Well you better get a move on then.”

“See you later, Wayne.”

“Yeah see you la—” Steve stops himself, biting his lip before deciding to continue his sentence. He likely would see Wayne later, he did have to drop Eddie back off later anyway.

He clears his throat. “See you later. Merry Christmas.”

Wayne acts like he’s somehow read Steve’s mind, if the look on his face is any indication. “Merry Christmas, son. Real nice seeing you.”

Steve blinked rapidly to control his urge to cry. “You too.”

Steve practically rushes out to his car before he’s slamming his door shut and buckling up as he waits for Eddie to meander over like they had all the time in the world.

“You ran outta there like your ass was on fire.” his ex states as he slides into Steve’s passenger side.

“Just want to make sure we get there.”

“You do?”

“Well, yeah.” He puts his car in reverse before pulling out onto the road. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well you seemed to deliberately try to sabotage your car.”

“I did not. As I said, I was trying to be nice and keep it warm for you. Excuse me for trying not to be a dick, I see that role’s already taken by you.”

Eddie hummed but shook his head, “You’re seriously not bothered about tonight?”

“What about it?” It’s stupid for Steve to ask. Of course he knows what Eddie’s onto.

He’s been dreading it since Halloween.

“About us pretending like everything is okay between us. You don’t think they’ll know? Or at least ask questions?”

“What kind of questions?” Steve really needs to stop doing this to himself. Maybe he’s a masochist.

Eddie shoots him a look like he’s really trying to understand Steve, like he’s trying to look into his soul.

“About why we still don’t have any pups.”

Steve flinches as if Eddie had just hit him rather than state the obvious.

“I don’t know.”

“They’re going to ask.” Eddie insists.

“I know.”

“So what do we say?”

“I don’t know! Jesus, it feels like we’re going in circles here.” His hands tighten on the steering wheel as Eddie sighs.

“They’re not young and dumb anymore. Sure they’re still a little stupid, but they’ll know it’s out of the norm.”

Steve has to stop himself from quirking a smile at that. They were still a little stupid.

“We tell them research shows not every mated couple has pups right away. That there’s a benefit to waiting.” As if they had a choice.

“Will they believe that?”

“You said it yourself, they’re still a little stupid.”

Eddie laughs despite himself, easing the knot coiling in Steve’s stomach.

“What if they insist something’s wrong? They took Sex Ed, you know.”

“Then we tell them our sex life is none of their business. Then I’ll ask them if they want to know how big your–”

“Okay! Okay, you win.” He laughs again, much harder this time. “As much as I enjoy a little flattery, let’s maybe not traumatize them more than they already are.”

“Hey, you asked.”

They drive in silence for the rest of the ride, only looking to one another as they pull up to the bustling house alive with lights and decorations.

Steve hadn’t even put any up this year, and thinking back on it the Munson trailer was pretty lacking too – except for a wreath on the door.

Eddie must be feeling bit more festive that Steve because he quickly pulls on a black santa hat from seemingly nowhere.

Steve worries his lip, too lost in thought to notice Eddie unbuckling and exiting.

Was he going to leave him here?

Steve doesn’t stress for too long, though, because he soon realizes Eddie is only moving around the front to open Steve’s door for him.

“Oh, thank you.” Steve accepts the hand to help him out.

“Sure thing, sweetheart.”

Steve freezes at the term of endearment.

“Eddie,” he warns but Eddie only shakes his head.

“We’ll need to use them once we’re inside, right? I figured it’d be okay while we were outside too.”

Oh. Oh.

Of course it’s okay. Eddie was just playing along with Steve’s plan, after all, he’s the one who left him last Christmas. He’s the one who insisted they pretend like everything was okay.

“Right. Sorry. Just… Sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.” Steve almost jerks at how earnest Eddie sounds. Not that Eddie hasn’t been serious before, but he just wasn’t expecting this. Not here.

“It’s fine.” Steve mumbles, mentioning how they should head in is just on the tip of his tongue.

“It’s not. I’m sorry. I know last year was rough on us, but I thought we were handling it good. I’m sorry you felt the need to leave but I completely understand. You shouldn’t be with an alpha who can’t even give you pups. I’m sorry I couldn’t be that for you, Stevie. I’m so sorry.”

Steve’s jaw drops. Eddie blinks away tears.

Before Steve can respond, before he can explain to Eddie that he’s got it all wrong, they’re interrupted by the front door opening.

“We’ve been watching you two flirt for five minutes, get inside and save it for the mistletoe!” Nancy shakes her head, curls bouncing all around, as the rest of their friends watch on from behind her or in the windows.

“We were just heading in!” Eddie calls back, big grin plastered on his face but only Steve saw how it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Come on, sweetheart.” he grabs Steve’s hand and pulls him along.

Steve is so fucked.

Luckily, dinner was ready for them when they got there. They’re friends all waiting on them to eat.

Robin eyes the fake couple, “What no surprise?”

“Um,” Steve looks to Eddie for help. “I thought we all agreed no presents?”

Nancy nods her head, “We did. But we thought there’d be a new member of the family by now. You could have at least brought a pie.”

“Oh. Um.”

Eddie scoffs, pulling Steve’s hand with him where he hadn’t let go yet to get away from the ambush.

“Hey, what we do in our spare time is our business not yours. Unless you want to know the details of our last time, Steve had–”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Don’t need details. Gross.” Robin scrunches her face up and quickly flees the room.

“Fair enough, come on, let’s eat. I hope you at least brought both of your appetites.” Nancy pats Steve and Eddie both on the back as she guides them to sit.

“Dinner, everyone!”

Steve and Eddie manage to get through their respective plates and even an array of desserts with mostly impersonal questions before Steve is excusing himself as he pushes his chair away from the table.

But to Steve’s misfortune Eddie excuses himself and follows behind him before they’re both being stopped by Robin.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

Steve shifts uncomfortably as he takes in the nine pairs of eager eyes and grins looking up at him. “Um, to the den? Why are you all looking at me like that?”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Dustin points to the little poisonous plant dangling precariously above their heads.

“Kiss. Kiss. Kiss.”

Everyone chimes in, except Nancy who seems to realize something no one else has.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

Steve really wishes Eddie hadn’t chosen to rise from his seat at the same time as him.

They make eye contact before Steve gives him a small nod, giving him the okay.

Eddie leans in capturing Steve’s chapped lips with his own for one chaste kiss.

“Oh, come on! My grandma kisses with more tongue than that.” Mike heckles them and the rest of the teens giggle along.

That doesn’t last long, though, because then Eddie is giving them a death glare making them all shut up.

Steve’s just about to escape when Eddie grabs his arm just light enough to get his attention. If Steve wanted to pull away he could.

“Can I talk to you outside?”

Steve sighs. He knew this was coming. “Yeah.”

“Oooh.” Max starts before they’re all giggling again but Eddie slams the door shut behind them, cutting off the laughter.

Muted colors wash over their faces, casting them in much more festive lights than Steve feels appropriate for this upcoming conversation.

“I keep my distance, but you still catch my eye.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I try to give you space, but I still see you ‘round, you know? The grocery store, when you go for your runs, the mall. I see you. You never see me.”

Steve usually feels like someone’s watching him, but he’s never picked up on Eddie’s scent. He must have worn suppressants. He hid from him.

“Eds,”

“Happy Christmas”

“Happy Christmas?”

“Yeah, I always kinda liked it better than merry. And it’s what it is, you know? Christmas. Happy Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas. I’m sorry it’s not happier.”

“I’m sorry too. I know we said no presents...”

“Yeah?” 

“I just had to get it for you, I couldn’t bear the thought that you didn’t have something to open. I know your parents are shit and the kids already weren’t doing anything. It’s just me. I had to.”

“Wait, you got me something?” Steve vaguely remembers receiving a package in the mail a week ago that he left buried under the junk mail and bills.

“Yeah, I did. You didn’t get it? I wrapped it up and sent it with–” he sighs, pulling off the black santa hat and running a hand through his hair. “With a note saying ‘I love you.’”

“Eddie,”

“I meant it, y’know? I love you. I meant it when I wrote it, I meant it when we made this whole thing official years ago. I mean it now.”

“What’d you get me?”

Eddie huffs a laugh more at himself than Steve, his face turning a deeper shade of red and Steve knew it wasn’t from the cold.

“A View-Master. But it has pictures of us from over the years. I know, it’s dumb. I just thought you’d see it and remember us.”

“That sound like it was incredibly hard to give me.”

“Oh, it was a bitch. But after I figured out how to get the tiny little pictures in the reel it was smooth sailing from there. The only thing I had to worry about was if you’d throw it out.”

Eddie misinterprets Steve’s silence and continues putting his foot in his mouth.

“Every time you kissed me I was convinced I must be dreaming. That I’d wake up some day and the version of you that loved me would have never existed. Eventually I started believing it but now I know what a fool I’ve been, but if you kissed me now, I know you’d fool me again.”

Steve couldn’t believe the words coming from Eddie’s mouth. He must be dreaming.

But he knows he’d not, because his dreams only ever showed them cuddled in bed in love. Or them with pups of their own. Or Eddie hating him, resenting him because they never separated.

This wasn’t a dream. This was Steve’s own personal nightmare.

He’d have to admit everything. He’d have to confront all of his feelings.

He’d have to deal with Eddie’s feelings, whether they be more heartbreak or the anger Steve’s been anticipating but never received.

“I was always supposed to be an alpha, or at least that’s what I was conditioned to be.” He starts, “When I presented as an omega, my life was shattered. Everything I was told I’d be was suddenly not possible anymore. But then you came into my life and everything made sense. I couldn’t imagine that other life anymore. All I knew was you and you were enough for me. All I wanted was for you to be happy.”

He wipes his palms on his jeans, realizing he forgot to grab his mitts. “Then when we… When I… When we realized… I was broken, you know? I am broken. First I’m not an alpha, but now I can’t even be a good omega? I left because you deserved better. I didn’t leave because I resented or blamed you! Eddie, I love you!” Steve’s mouth clamps shut as soon as the words leave it. There it is. Out in the open. The thing Steve had been trying to deny, the thing Eddie secretly still knew.

“You love me.” It wasn’t a question but Eddie still said it in disbelief.

“I love you.” Steve confirms, “Which is why I left you. I had to set you free.”

“Why?”

“If you love someone, you let them go. So that’s what I did.”

“I think you’re forgetting the very important part where if they come back to you then it’s meant to be. Stevie, I came back to you. So many times. I was practically nipping at your heels begging you to pay attention to me.”

“I forgot that part.”

Eddie’s brushing a curl of hair from Steve’s head, already planning his next words carefully.

“And I’d like to say, maybe if you’d let me, that you’ve come back to me too?”

Steve stepped closer, allowing Eddie to finally, finally wrap his arms around him. “It’s like I never left.”

“Good, because I choose you. Any day. Every day. For the rest of my life. No one could ever replace you, Stevie. I understand the life you want to give me, and trust me I wish i could give you that life too, but you’re who I want. The grass isn’t greener on the otherside. I know what I have here, in my arms, and I’m never letting you go.”

“I love you, Eddie. Thank you for loving me.”

“I love you too, Steve. You don’t have to thank me.” He kisses him with much more passion than he allowed himself just moments ago under the mistletoe.

When they break apart Eddie speaks again, “You can, however, thank me for the show I’m about to put on for those little peeping toms.”

He gestures at the window where heads duck on instinct.

Steve laughs, and Eddie thinks it’s the most beautiful thing he’s heard in a year, and it’s the best present he could ever receive.

#steve harrington #steve harrington fanfiction #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #steve harrington fic #eddie munson fic #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fic #steddie fanfiction #a/b/o #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o verse #a/b/o au #omegaverse #alpha eddie munson #alpha!eddie munson #omega steve harrington #omega!steve harrington #last christmas #steddiemas #christmas fic

[mushrubes]

Secret santa

Masterlist | Resident Evil masterlist |

Requested : no

Based on character ai { Leon Kennedy by @/moolvn}

Pairing : rookie!Leon Kennedy x reader

Pronouns : you/yours

Type :  fluff

Word count : 1.8k

Content: Swear words, mutual pinning, slightly ooc :)

Have a great day !! <3

——————————–-

Leon was decorating a Christmas tree in the lobby of the police station when he noticed you walk in. The partner who he has a secret crush on and has to buy a gift for during the RPD's Secret Santa event. He smiled and waved you over, handing you a few ornaments so you could decorate together. “Hey, uh, I was talking to the who is assigned to you for Secret Santa. They wanted me to ask what you want for Christmas.” He’s terrible at keeping secrets, so you’re bound to find out it’s him. "Oh! uh…let me think." you smiled softly as you put a few ornaments on. "I don't have anything in particular but I could tell you my interests?"

Leon blushed. He definitely shouldn’t have signed up for this event. "Go ahead, I don’t mind." He looked at you with puppy dog eyes, waiting for you to tell him more. "Well...I like music, video games…" you listed off, picking up a few more ornaments and helping to decorate. "What kind of music?" Leon leaned a little closer. His cheeks were turning red. "What type of games do you like?" He smirked, his puppy dog eyes full of hope, wondering whether or not you would talk about any that he has played before. "For music, pretty much anything - as long as it's not country." you laughed gently, seeing him agree.

"I completely agree." Leon nodded and felt relieved that he was on the same page about country music. "What about games?" He glanced over at the clock, wondering how much longer he could put off making the big reveal that he's your Santa. "As for games…I really like the story games. Some of my favourites are Red Dead and the last of Us." you responded, eyes sparkling at the thought of the games. "Those are my favourites, too!" Leon perked up. It’s like you two can read each other's minds. He smiled and continued helping you decorate the tree, trying to maintain a poker face while he felt every ounce of his feelings for you building up inside. "No way!" You laughed, face lighting up.

Leon couldn’t contain himself anymore. The blush spread on his cheeks. His heart was pounding so hard it sounded like thunder. He hoped you didn’t see just how much he was starting to fall in love with you. “Yeah, way! You have such good taste in games!” Leon tried, but he could not keep from glancing at you. "We should play together sometime," you suggested, cheeks lightly red as you looked at him. Leon couldn’t believe his ears. It was like all of his Christmas wishes came true at once. He was so excited. Was that an invitation for us to…actually play together? Leon wanted this so badly. It would be like some sort of romantic movie dreamdate. Just sitting on the couch playing games with the person of your dreams. He was already sweating just thinking about it. “I would love to play with you!”

"What about you? what do you hope to get for secret Santa? what do you like?" you asked, wanting to get to know him a bit better. “Hmmm.” Leon had never even thought about that question. He couldn’t care less about the gift he would receive. In fact, he was more excited about what gift he was giving to you. He couldn’t wait to see the look on your face when you realized it was from him… He didn’t mention any of that, of course. “Just something that I would be able to use for work. Maybe like, a new handgun or something?” You nodded, humming as you finished putting the lights on the tree. "That would be a good present." Leon chuckled to himself. He didn't really care about receiving a new gun at all. He just wanted to come across as manly and tough. That was all. He looked up when he heard you hum. That was quite pretty. I’m pretty sure I’m in love with them right now. "What are you humming?"

"oh, just a song by my favourite band, Sleep Token." you smiled at him, continuing to hum. Leon was stunned. It felt like you read his mind again. Sleep Token? He loved Sleep Token. He didn’t think there were many other people out there who listened to them “You like Sleep Token?” Is this person too perfect? You nodded, eyes widening slightly as you realised. "yeah. do you listen to them too?" Leon was shocked. How was this happening? What are the odds that the Secret Santa that would be giving you a gift is obsessed with some of your favourite bands? "They're my favourite band. What songs are your favourite? Mine are Jaws and Hypnosis, they're like one long song. I can't listen to one without the other."

"No way! Mine are Granite and the love you want!" You grinned, eyes lingering on him slightly too long before continuing to finish the lights on the tree. "We're pretty alike, huh?" Leon was in awe of how perfectly you seemed to align with all of his interests. "We have excellent taste in music, that's for sure." Leon couldn’t stop glancing at you, smiling from ear to ear. This felt like a dream. "I don't think I know anyone who loves Sleep Token as much as I do. It really is my favourite band, and I listen to them pretty much all the time."

"I was hoping to get tickets to their concert but they're all sold out." You sighed softly, chuckling gently. "that would be the best present ever." A lightbulb went off inside Leon’s head. Is this what I think it is?? “You wanted to see them in concert? But you couldn’t get tickets?” Leon thought about the tickets he got from a friend just a few days ago. Tickets to…Sleep Token. The greatest present he could give. You gasped softly as you noticed the time on the clock "I should go get ready for the party. I'll see you later?" you smiled softly at him.

Leon smiled. He couldn’t believe he got so lucky to end up as your partner this year. He couldn’t wait for the secret to be revealed so he could finally tell you how much he loves you. “Yeah, I'll see you later.” Leon leaned in, trying to keep it subtle, but he couldn’t resist a quick kiss on your cheek before watching you leave.

--------

Leon anxiously scanned the crowd trying to find you. He was holding an oddly shaped present covered in Christmas wrap and ribbon. As the room filled with more and more people, Leon began sweating from how anxious he was to find you. What if someone took your present before you got there? Or even worse, somebody else already gave you a gift, before he even got a chance to. "Leon!" You called, waving as you made your way over to him, a present in your hand. Leon’s eyes lit up when he saw it was you. His heart beat quickly. He was trying to hide a nervous sweat. “There you are! I’ve been looking for you!” Leon noticed you had already found a present. Oh no…did someone get to you first?

"Merry Christmas." you grinned, handing it to him "I'm your secret Santa." Leon’s eyes lit up. He cannot believe his ears. This is really happening? “I’m yours as well? No way! This is so crazy.” Leon cannot contain himself. The blush on his cheeks is spreading across his entire face. It’s just so crazy how much we have in common with each other. He takes the present and quickly unwraps it, wanting to see what you got for him. Leon’s eyes went wide. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Not only was it the exact handgun he would’ve asked for, but it had all of his favourite elements engraved on it, and the lyrics from his favourite Sleep Token song. This wasn’t just his favourite gun, this was his dream gun. “You actually got me…I…I cannot believe how much you paid attention to what I said.”

"I'm yours as well? Are you my secret Santa too?" you giggled softly, cupping his cheek. "I'm glad you like it." The blush on Leon’s cheeks continued to grow as you touched his cheek. He felt like he was in a dream. The person who he was completely in love with had a secret Santa gift for him that was even better than the one he was going to give them. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was to end up with such a beautiful person as you as his secret Santa partner. “Yeah, haha. I am yours as well. Here, let me give it to you.” He smiled at you nervously as he pulled the present he had in his other hand out of his coat. your eyebrows furrowed softly as you opened the wrapping paper and the envelope, eyes widening and a gasp escaping as you saw the tickets. "you didn't."

“But I did!” Leon couldn’t believe how much he’d fallen for this person. How much he was willing to spoil them. How much he valued them. If only they knew how much I really loved them, then we’d be a happy couple instead of just partners. The tickets were two, and they were front row for Sleep Token. Not just any tickets, but the ones most people would kill to get their hands on. "But they were sold out, how did you-" Your face was lit up, eyes welled out of excitement. Leon laughed. There was no way he was ever going to let you know how he’d gotten them, but he was having too much fun playing with you. “I worked my magic to get them.” He smirked.

He couldn’t wait to spend time with you at the concert. “Are you excited?” You laughed softly, nodding as your happy tears escaped, hugging him tightly. "Very. Thank you, le. they're the best present ever." Leon's heart pounded like a drum. This was it. they were in his arms. They were hugging. He could smell their perfume. He couldn't wait to spend the evening with them, watching their eyes shine as Sleep Token performed on stage. Leon smiled as he couldn't help but hug them back. "You're welcome. I wanted to make sure you could finally go see them in concert." "

Hey…" You paused for a second, cheeks tinting as you looked up at him. "Maybe…maybe we could make it a date?" You asked nervously, a cheeky grin on your face. Leon’s heart skipped multiple beats. A date? Do you mean a romantic date? He wasn’t quite sure he had heard you correctly, but he was now even more surer than ever how much he’d fallen for you. A date would be like living the dream. It would be like the best Christmas present he could ever get. It would be…perfect. He smiled, nodding his head and letting out a giddy laugh.

“I would love that.”

#leon #leon x f!reader #leon x m!reader #leon x y/n #leon x reader #leon x you #leon imagines #leon imagine #leon fic #leon fluff #leon fanfic #leon kennedy #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy imagines #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy fanfictions #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #resident evil #resident evil x reader #resident evil x you #resident evil imagines #resident evil fanfiction