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eiightysixbaby · 6 months

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i’ll be home for christmas

PART ONE: Last Christmas

series masterlist || next part

word count: 5.8k

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: you feel like you’ve been floating through life since eddie left town last christmas. what are you supposed to do when everything reminds you of him, and christmas doesn’t feel the same anymore?

cw: switches between past and present tense, angst angst angst, reader’s nickname is ‘sunny’.

author’s note: i cannot express how excited i am to finally be sharing the first part to this story! i have truly poured every possible ounce of my energy into this and i really hope it shows. thank you in advance for reading, i hope you all enjoy it as much as i’ve enjoyed writing it.

Present Day: December 17th, 1989.

Snowflakes swirl around your face, dancing in front of your nose before being whisked away in a flurry of cold air. It’s not snowing hard — just enough to make Hawkins feel more magical. You stuff your hands into your coat pockets, eagerly awaiting the steaming cup of coffee you’re headed for. Behind you, Nancy pleads with Mike to put a hat on because his ears are bright red from the cold, and of course he doesn’t listen. Stubborn as usual. Steve calls him a little shit, and you roll your eyes to yourself as they bicker. You can’t quite bring yourself to laugh, though, and you don’t turn around to join in on the teasing like you usually would. Your eyes are angled down, watching as your boots press imprints into the dusting of snow that coats the pavement beneath you.

“I always thought Hawkins looked its prettiest when it’s snowing,” Robin’s voice says from behind you, getting clearer as she jogs to catch up to you.

Your shoes scuff against the frosty sidewalk, a little hum leaving you as you glance around at the town center. The storefronts are all decorated for the upcoming holiday, strings of garland and pretty green wreaths with red ribbon hanging on every door. Cheery window displays with Santa Claus and artificial Christmas trees liven up the shops. Shiny red and gold baubles hang from bare trees, string lights wrap around ornate light poles and coil up until they kiss the big red bows that are tied around the tops.

Robin’s right. It is pretty. The snow makes everything even more picturesque, like you’re living in a town inside of a snow globe. This could be the setting of a holiday movie, as far as you’re concerned. You’ve always loved Christmas, it’s always been the happiest time of the year for you. This year, though, is different. The warmth and joy you usually feel every December is gone, left behind on a snowy night last year. Robin senses your sadness, of course she does, because she’s sensed it just about every single time it’s crept up on you over the course of the last 12 months. Ever the empath, that one.

“Hey, I know it’s hard for you this year, kid,” she says, softer now, resting a gentle hand on your shoulder as you walk side-by-side. Her vibrant blue eyes catch yours, studying you carefully. “You know we’re feeling it too. And we’re all here for you,” she adds, nodding in the direction of the rest of your friends.

Steve, Nancy, Jonathan, and the kids all trail behind you, spread out on the sidewalk. You know they’re all feeling the difference of this holiday, too. In their own ways, they’re hurting too. You know you’re not the only one. You almost feel selfish, but you know that’s not what your friends would want, so you try your best to shove it down.

“I know, Rob. Thank you. I promise I’m not trying to be a downer,” you say, taking a shaky inhale. Crisp, cold air fills your lungs, the icy chill almost burning.

“No, hey, don’t do that. You’re not being a downer. We’re gonna have you all merry and bright in no time,” she says with her signature pretty smile, but you feel like she’s trying to reassure both you and herself as she says it.

You hope she’s right. You long to break free from the shackles of the numbness that’s clung to you this entire year. A certain someone’s absence that’s left you feeling hollow.

You reach the coffee shop, holding out a gloved hand to open the door for your friends. You trail in behind everyone, warm air hitting you in a comforting wave, like a blanket wrapping around your frame. The entire place smells like fresh coffee grounds and hints of vanilla, and you inhale deeply, letting it envelope you.

You vaguely hear Dustin and Max arguing about whether hot chocolate or coffee is the better hot beverage, before your ears tune in to the Christmas music playing over the speaker. “I’ll Be Home For Christmas” rings out in the small space, and you feel as though you’ve been punched in the gut as the soothing voice croons through the sound system. What should be a happy, comforting song only adds salt to your wounds, and if you had any say here you’d turn it right off. It reminds you of all of the things you wish you could forget, reminds you that you won’t be spending this Christmas with the person you should be. Longing coils its way around your heart, squeezing tight enough you feel it could shatter.

“What’re you gonna get?” Jonathan asks from beside you, bringing you out of your head as you realize you’d been staring aimlessly at the menu.

“Huh? Oh, um, probably a vanilla latte. Boring, I know,” you give him a little smile, the best you can muster, which he returns.

“Nah, it’s a classic. Can’t go wrong,” he says, walking towards the waiting cashier to go and order.

He orders his drink and yours, paying for both before you can get a word in edgewise. “Jonathan—” you start as you both move to the side to wait for your items.

“Don’t offer to pay me back. It’s my treat, okay?” he insists, giving you a knowing look. It’s his way of trying to cheer you up, to bring that holiday spirit back to life inside of you.

You and Jonathan had been friends for years now, he’d been a part of the group since the beginning, but only in this past year did you become especially close. He’d been such a big support system for you, letting you vent when you needed to and only offering advice when you explicitly asked for it. He’s an exceptional listener, the perfect confidant, and you’re grateful for his friendship. You’re grateful for the whole gang — their warmth and consistent companionship making everything easier for you.

Jonathan tells you to go sit with the others, assuring you that he’ll collect the drinks and bring them over to the table. Coats and scarves and gloves are discarded, hung on the coat rack that’s nestled in the corner right behind the two tables Nancy chose for you all. She sits next to Robin, the taller girl draping an arm over the back of Nancy’s chair, fingertips brushing her shoulder affectionately through her fluffy sweater. You sit across from Steve, opting for the seat closest to the window so you can look out. Max, Dustin, Lucas, Will, and Mike all sit at their own table, animatedly chatting about the Secret Santa gift exchange they’re doing. You giggle lightly when Dustin accidentally reveals that he’d drawn El’s name, the table immediately grilling into him and roaring with laughter.

Jonathan sits down beside you with the drinks and you immediately grab your cup, the warmth from it soothing your hands. You slip into easy conversation; talking about what Christmas gifts you all still have to buy and coming up with a plan for the group Christmas party, discussing your jobs and all of the usual things.

“And so I’m banging on the bathroom door, right? Yelling at Steve to come help me with this customer,” Robin rambles animatedly, her hands flying as she tells a story from work. “He comes out of the bathroom, and the fucking button on his pants pops off. His pants literally fall down around his ankles in the middle of the bakery. I’m peeing myself laughing at this point, the customer is still angrily waving his fist at me—” she keeps talking, you know she does, but your attention is diverted elsewhere in the midst of her anecdote.

A car horn honks outside, making you turn your head towards the commotion just in time to see a van pull up at a stop light outside of the coffee shop. A van that makes your heart feel like it’s plummeted to the bottom of your stomach. A Chevy, a deep burgundy in color with a cream stripe running along the side. You feel your mouth go dry as you’re plagued with a flood of memories. You vaguely register Jonathan and Nancy’s laughter towards Robin, you know you should be laughing too, but your mind is already far away from this moment — transported somewhere else. Back to a year ago. Back to Eddie.

Christmas Eve, 1988.

You hoist yourself up into the van, a smile on your face as you sit down, instantly pressing your hands to the air vents to try and warm them up. You’re buzzing from the party at Steve’s, waving enthusiastically to the host in question as he closes the front door to his house. Eddie had insisted on warming the vehicle up for you while you said your goodbyes to everyone, and he watches you from the driver’s seat as you buckle your seatbelt.

“So, where are you taking me, handsome?” you ask, barely able to contain your joy.

“You’ll see,” he says, giving your hand a squeeze. He shoots you a smile that doesn’t quite meet his eyes, but you shake it off easily, assuming he’s just getting tired. You know you were.

Snow flies sideways in the beams of the headlights, those big, fluffy flakes that have always been your favorite. You drive past houses decorated like something out of a scene from a movie; rainbow lights coiled around bushes and pine trees, white bulbs lining rooftops and candles glowing in windows. Every door seems to don a wreath with a big red bow, and even some snowmen wave at you with their stick arms, mittens held high in the air.

It’s magical, that’s the only word you could use. Your heart feels like it could burst out of your chest, giddy like a child again. Christmas music plays on the radio and Eddie hums along to it beside you, making you want to grab him and kiss him and just never let go. What you two had going on was unlabeled, at the moment, but the tension between you was tangible. Your seemingly upcoming relationship had become the butt of the affectionate jokes in your friend group, the gang being less than subtle about what they expected from you and Eddie. And they didn’t even know about the kiss yet…

Being with him felt like everything good in the world, wrapped in a tiny package and sealed with a bow. Sometimes he would look at you like he loved you, and sometimes you felt like you loved him. There was no rush, no hurry, no deadline with Eddie. You let things flow naturally, progress gradually as you enjoyed getting closer and closer with one another. You’re feeling like tonight might be the night, like he might finally ask you to be his.

The van drives across snowy backroads, a dense layer of trees on either side. You know exactly where you’re headed now, hands rubbing on your thighs in an absentminded fidget. It’s not long until you pull up beside Lover’s Lake; your usual spot, your special spot. There’s a lonely dock leading out to the water, a dock that you’ve spent many a night sitting at while you gazed at the stars with the curly haired boy. It, too, is decorated for the holiday now, strands of lights twisted around the railings, illuminating the surrounding frozen water.

Eddie puts the van in park, killing the engine before his door swings open with a reluctant creak. You open your own door, only to be met with him extending a hand for you to take, helping you down onto the icy ground. You tug your hat further down over your ears, slipping your gloves out of your coat pocket and onto your hands. Eddie’s grabbed a blanket from the back of the van, tucking it under his arm. You can see your breath with every exhale as your boots crunch through the dirt and grass, walking to the dock with Eddie right in front of you.

The blanket is laid out on the old wooden planks, serving as a buffer between you and the cold, frozen surface of the dock. You gaze out at the vast expanse of the lake, a few lights twinkling on the opposite shore. You reach for Eddie’s hand, giving his fingers a squeeze before just holding them, your gloves providing him with some extra warmth.

“I have something for you,” he says then, taking you by surprise.

“Eddie, I thought we were exchanging gifts tomorrow—” you start, but he doesn’t let you finish.

“This couldn’t wait,” he insists, and his eyes hold an emotion you can’t place.

Is this it? Is he going to ask you to be his girlfriend?

His hand fumbles around in his coat pocket before he finds what he’s looking for, retrieving a tiny velvet box. A dainty ribbon is wrapped around it, tied with a bow on the top, and you gasp a little when you see it. He hands it off to you, watching as you delicately pull the knot loose, setting the shiny ribbon in your lap. You open the box with so much care, a hand flying to cover your mouth when you see what waits for you.

A beautiful gold necklace with a heart pendant rests on the silky bunch of fabric inside the box. You lift the pendant with a finger, noticing an engraved ‘E’ in the center of the heart. The whole thing is dainty, not flashy, not too much, but yet more than enough.

“Eddie—” you breathe, tears pricking in your eyes as you meet his stare.

He looks nervous. He’s not smiling.

“I want you to have that so you never forget me, and how much you mean to me,” he says, scooting closer to you.

He pulls you to him, pressing his forehead to yours.

“I could never forget you, what do you mean?” you ask, clutching the box close to your body.

“Sweetheart, there’s something I need to tell you. And I need you to try and understand,” he says, and the words immediately make your stomach flip. You feel ill, and he hasn’t even told you what he needs to tell you yet.

You close the box, holding it even tighter, as if it could freeze this moment in time.

He pulls back just slightly, enough so he can look you directly in the eye. One hand rests on your cheek, the shockwaves of his touch reaching the deepest parts of your soul.

“I’m leaving Hawkins. Tomorrow,” he says finally, a shuddering breath leaving him.

And that was the moment your whole world shattered.

Present Day: December 17th, 1989.

You’re torn from your memories at the feeling of Jonathan’s hand on your arm, his voice calling to you through the fog you feel floating in your brain.

“Sunny, hey, you okay?” he prods, concern evident on his face when you turn to look at him.

Nancy, Steve, and Robin look expectantly at you from the other side of the table, worried about where you’d drifted off to.

“Yeah, I— I’m fine,” you say, giving a smile that’s less than believable. “Sorry, just… thinking. Lots going on for the holidays, y’know?”

“Yeah,” Jonathan says, squeezing your shoulder as if to let you know he’s here for you.

He gives you that look he always gives you when he knows there’s something you aren’t telling him, he knows you too well. You feel bad lying to him, but you don’t want to bring up Eddie in front of the whole group right now. Robin was telling a funny story. Your friends deserve to laugh, to be happy. They don’t need your anguish. Saving face is the easiest option.

To your appreciation, they simply ease back into the conversation at hand. Your hand reflexively reaches up to your chest, grabbing at the small pendant that rests there. Your thumb runs over the engraving that you know is the letter E, your breath leaving you shakily. You take one final look out the window, the van from before now gone — much like the man it reminded you of.

You end up making an excuse to leave your friends early that day, no longer feeling able to force a positive attitude. You know they must be worried, know that they see through your facade, and guilt gnaws at your insides. All they’ve done is try and try to keep your spirits up, to help you move past everything, and you’re just stuck in the past. You haven’t exactly been easy to help, either. You miss Eddie, but every time he’s called you decline speaking to him. You can’t — certain that you wouldn’t even know what to say and that you’d just cry helplessly into the phone. And nevertheless your friends persist, always there when you need them and always willing to cheer you up. Plans are made with Nancy and Robin to bake Christmas cookies sometime soon — an offer you couldn’t possibly refuse at the way they so excitedly ask you to join them — before you bid everyone goodbye and part ways.

You stomp your snow-covered boots on the doormat just inside of your apartment, kicking them off haphazardly as the icy sludge begins to melt on the ground. You float around the space as you hang up your coat and remove your gloves, hat, and scarf, your body physically completing the actions but your brain residing somewhere else entirely. You curl up on your couch, wrapping yourself in your favorite blanket as you stare blankly at the black screen of your tiny television. The glow of your Christmas tree does nothing to soothe you — where it used to be a comfort, it now feels like a headache. You have half a mind to tear down all of your decorations, but you know it wouldn’t truly make you feel any better.

As if you weren’t sad enough already, as if the past eleven months haven’t been torturous enough, you really can’t get Eddie out of your head now. Seeing a lookalike van to his shouldn’t bother you, nearly a year later. Something so commonplace shouldn’t phase you. You press the heels of your palms to your closed eyes, willing your tears not to fall, willing yourself to forget him and forget it all and leave him in your past. You know it’s hopeless, you know you can’t possibly forget him, and it only makes you more frustrated.

One hand grips the pendant of your necklace, pulling roughly on the chain and making it snap. You toss it onto your coffee table, sobs wracking through your entire body now. Your fingers rest where the necklace once was, feeling the loss of him, something tangible. Laying down on the worn cushions, tears blur your vision as you cry, left alone to remember. And you remember everything.

Christmas Eve, 1988.

Your brows furrow, your brain not comprehending what he’s saying. “I don’t.. I don’t understand. What do you mean you’re leaving?”

“I found a place in Chicago. I can’t be in Hawkins anymore, Sunny, I’m sorry. I don’t… I don’t belong here. I need to go out on my own and make something of myself,” he says, wincing as if it pains him to speak about. You don’t have the grace in this moment to see that it does pain him. More than he can say.

“No…” you say, tears welling up in your eyes as you shake your head furiously. “No, this is a joke. This has to be a joke,” you try to convince yourself, moving to stand. Your chest feels tight, like all the air has been stolen from your lungs.

“Sweetheart—” Eddie says, standing with you, reaching an arm out to steady you when your boot slips on the icy dock.

“Don’t touch me!” you shout, louder than you’d ever wanted to be with him. “You can’t—” your voice breaks, your lip wobbling. “You can’t leave me.”

“I have to. You’ll be better off without me, okay? You have Nance and Robin, and Jonathan and Steve.”

“What about them?” you ask, voice quiet.

“What?”

“What about them? Did you tell them that you’re leaving? Did you tell the kids?”

“I… no. I need you to explain everything, okay? I didn’t want to ruin the Christmas party,” Eddie says, his eyes averting your gaze, shifting on his feet.

“Oh, but it’s okay to ruin my night? It’s okay to ruin my life?” you hiss. Eddie’s visibly taken aback by this, his eyes impossibly sad. You know the last part may have been too much, but you don’t care.

“You’re going to be fine without me,” he says, puffs of fog leaving his mouth with each word against the cold wind.

“What about us, Eddie!?” you cry, your throat raw with the way you scream it. “You’re going to act like this is nothing? Like we have nothing!?”

He doesn’t know what to say. He stands maybe two feet away from you, silent, his figure illuminated only by the string lights wound around the railings to the dock. His silence rings in your ears.

“So that’s it. You’re just going to go away, leave me here and forget about me,” your voice trembles, your feet stepping backwards as you start to distance yourself from him.

“I could never forget about you, I don’t want to forget about you!” he emphasizes, moving towards you. “You’re the only person I’ve told this to besides Wayne! Because I care about you far too much to just go,” he says, his voice breaking as he steps closer still.

“Oh, my hero,” you scoff, shaking your head as you wipe tears from your cheeks.

You turn on your heel and start running towards the van, your heart feeling like it’s being wrung out in your chest. The wind hurts your face, every snowflake that hits your skin pricking you like a needle.

“Sunny. Sunny!” he shouts after you, his shoes crunching on the frozen ground as he tracks you down. Hearing the nickname he’d so fondly given you ages ago — because you’re always ‘a ray of sunshine’ in his words — simply feels like he’s driving a knife through your heart now. “Please, I need you to understand—”

“How could I? How could you ask this of me!?” you sob, your defenses raised high. “I could’ve gone with you!”

“No! You need to be here, you’re happy here! You have friends and family and a job that you love — here.”

“You have friends here. You have Wayne, and you have me,” you say through gritted teeth, sniffling hard.

“I need to go. I need to get away from this town,” he says softly, mournfully. “Please…”

“Take me home, Eddie.”

“Baby—”

“Take me home! I don’t want to be near you any more, take me the fuck home!” you grit, pushing him away when he tries to hold you.

“Okay,” he sighs, defeated. “I’ll take you home.”

The ride to your place is alarmingly silent, your mind hazy as you stare blankly out the window. The happy hugging families and Christmas lights and snowmen mock you as you drive past, every joyful scrap of the holiday feeling like a sick joke now. Your stomach is in knots, your heart breaking inside of your chest with every passing second. You feel like you’re in a daze, like you aren’t even real.

His van finally pulls into the parking lot to your apartment, the snow swirling harder now in the glow of his headlights. It doesn’t look light and delicate as it had before, it doesn’t shimmer the way it used to. It looks foreboding, plummeting to the ground in fast, aggressive streaks.

“Sweetheart—” Eddie starts, and you scoff before he can keep going. Tears slide down your face as you shake your head, your lip wobbling.

“Don’t call me that. Don’t you dare call me that if you’re really about to leave me,” you say, voice thick with the bile that rises to your throat.

“I have to go. I’m so sorry. You’ll be better without me, I’m so sorry.”

“Goodbye, Eddie,” you say, so quiet he almost doesn’t hear it.

You open the passenger door, hopping out of his van for the last time. You’d climbed into this van a mere hour ago so hopeful that tonight he’d make you his, and instead he’s ripping it all away. You chance one final glance at his face, the defeated and empty expression that sits on it. It makes you want to crumble, fall to your knees right there on the snowy concrete and wail until your throat is raw. But you don’t give him the satisfaction, and you slam the door shut instead. The sound of it reverberates in your ears, making your head throb. The little velvet box sits in your coat pocket, your hand clutching it as you walk quickly to your building.

You barely process the fact that you reach your door, that you unlock it and step inside. You only process the hard floor beneath you as you sink down onto it on your knees. Sobs wrack through your body as you hunch over, gasping breaths making your chest shudder. Taking the little necklace box out of your pocket, you stare at it for a moment. Chest heaving, tears streaming down your face, you open the box. You take the necklace out, fumbling with it through your blurred vision. It somehow feels right to put it on, it feels like you need to put it on. It’s the only piece of Eddie that you have.

The pendant rests above your heart, your hand grasping it and clutching it tight. Through all of your anger and your hurt, there’s an unspoken love for Eddie, and there’s a part of you that clings to his gift like it’s a lifeline. Like maybe wearing the necklace could make him change his mind, like you could summon him. And so you sit, still in your coat and your scarf and your hat, curled in on yourself on the floor of your apartment as you cry. Letting yourself feel every ounce of emotion, cursing Eddie’s name for how alive he made you feel and how he’s taking it away in the blink of an eye.

Present Day: December 18th, 1989.

The next morning comes with a blanket of heavy snow, the sun rising over the sleepy streets of Hawkins and making the white powder sparkle. You’d hoped, nearly taken up some faith and prayed that after some sleep you’d feel better. That your problems could be washed away with the morning’s light.

Naïve? Maybe. Probably.

Because as soon as your alarm clock blared in your ears and you opened your tired eyes, you felt honestly worse than you had the night before. You feel as though someone has scooped up your insides, tossing them out and leaving you hollow as you lie in bed and stare at the ceiling.

The promise of coffee and the obligation of work is what gets you out of bed, your head instantly pounding when you stand up. Your feet slide into your cozy slippers as you trudge down the hallway to your kitchen, getting a pot of coffee started before moving to your living room. You go to pick up the television remote when something shiny catches your eye. The light reflects off of a gold pendant, making it sparkle.

Eddie’s necklace. Your necklace.

At least in your sleep you’d been able to forget that you had taken the necklace off. And in your post-sleep still-tired haze you’d been able to remain unaware, if even for a short while. You stare at it for a moment, tempted to put it back on. But then your puffy, sore eyes from last night’s sob-fest and the snot-covered tissues that litter the floor encourage you to leave it off.

All Eddie’s done in the last year is make you cry, so why should you wear his necklace every day? He doesn’t deserve it.

Or that’s what you try to convince yourself, at least, as you stomp into your room and hide the necklace away in your jewelry box. You can’t stomach looking at it for too long, desperately trying not to cry again. You’re not even sure if you have any tears left, or if the reservoirs have run completely dry. Shaking it off, you return to your living area, clicking the TV on and turning it to the news station.

“We sure got quite a bit of snow last night, and we’re definitely not the only ones!” the weatherman says, too perky for this early in the morning. “I was just recently in Chicago and, let me just say, be thankful that’s not us. Talk about a lot of snow!”

Chicago. Your eye twitches at the mention, and then the TV is promptly clicked off. Way to start your day strong.

You were hoping things would improve when you got to work, as your current job could barely even be called a job. Your front-desk position at the school was on hold for the winter break, but this year Hawkins Middle was sponsoring an ice skating event. A temporary ice rink was installed in downtown Hawkins, and you had offered to help run it. You’d mainly been in charge of skate rentals and serving up hot chocolate or coffee, and it was actually really fun most days. Chief Hopper had even been convinced to dress up as Santa, showing up on Fridays and Saturdays to greet the eager children.

Today, though, of course the world has to test you. You can hear kids shrieking and throwing tantrums before you can even fully see them, and as you walk in to the worker’s trailer you hear Vickie, one of the teachers at the middle school, getting royally bitched at by an impatient mother. Wincing, you put a hand on her shoulder when the woman leaves, signaling that you’re here to take over and rid her of misery.

“I’m warning you,” she says. “It’s crazy out there today.”

To make matters worse, on your drive here the first song you found on the radio was one of Eddie’s favorites. You had changed the station only to find another one of his favorites before turning the damn thing off entirely. Then, on the short walk from your car to the ice rink, you’d been walking behind someone who looked exactly like Eddie. The curly hair, leather jacket, white sneakers… it made your stomach turn. You were more disappointed than you wanted to admit when you saw his face and it, of course, wasn’t actually him.

It’s like Eddie was everywhere you went, an inescapable constant.

You just wanted to not be sad anymore. Your heart was tired of hurting, and you truly felt as though Christmas couldn’t be over and done with fast enough.

You try to put on a chipper attitude as you greet families, politely helping them get their skates and giving the kiddos your best tips and tricks for the ice. There’s a larger crowd than you’d expected today, everyone in town seemingly flocking over to grab some hot cocoa and go skating. You expertly maneuver between skate rentals and drink-making, insisting your other helper keeps an eye on the ice rink itself. It keeps you busy, at least, your brain pleasantly distracted by the chaos. In brief moments of downtime, you watch as wobbly children try to stay upright on the slippery rink, parents following close behind with outstretched hands, ready to steady them.

You’re putting skates back in their respective places when the door to the little trailer opens and shuts, a strawberry blonde head of hair lingering in your peripheral vision.

“Hey, Chrissy!” you greet her, setting out cups for the next round of cocoa orders. “How’s break been going for you?” you ask, smiling at her as she pulls off her earmuffs.

Chrissy was one of the cheer coaches for both the middle and high school, and you’d become friendly with her through school events and the like.

“Oh, you know, it’s going fine I guess….” she says, biting back a smirk as she stretches her arms out, hands splayed flat where she holds them in front of her.

You glance down, instantly clocking the sparkly diamond ring on her left ring finger. Eyes widening, you gasp, taking her perfectly-manicured hand in yours.

“No way. Jason proposed!?” you ask, watching as a pink lipgloss smile breaks out on her face and she nods.

Her and Jason had been the it couple for the majority of your high school career, and they’d still been going strong since graduation a few years back.

“Yes!! Can you believe it!? I had no. idea. he had this planned!” she squeals, her ponytail bobbing as she bounces slightly on her feet.

For some reason, it makes your heart feel like it’s about to crack beneath your rib cage. It shouldn’t, this isn’t about you, but the air is whisked from your lungs regardless.

“I— I’m so happy for you,” you say, stammering a little as you try to feign happiness. “Congratulations.”

“You okay?” she worries, her brows furrowing as she tilts her head at you. Her perky demeanor is gone, concern taking over her features.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine, sorry, I just feel a little weird. Haven’t eaten much today,” you lie, forcing a smile on your face. “Seriously, congratulations,” you say again, sighing in relief when she thanks you and walks back out of the trailer, going to check on everyone skating.

You slump against the counter, a lump forming in your throat. As much as you wish it didn’t, this only makes you think of Eddie. Again.

You can’t help but let your mind wander to what could’ve been if Eddie had stayed, if maybe in a couple short years he could be proposing to you. Last December you’d been so hopeful that the two of you would make things official soon, and when Eddie gave you that necklace you were nearly certain of it — for a moment, at least. What if he had been here, in Hawkins, this entire year? Surely you’d be spending Christmas together, decorating together and baking together and simply existing together. It feels like you’ve been robbed. All of your feelings for him have had no place to go, the adoration you boxed away clawing at your heartstrings desperately.

There’s a part of you that’s so envious of what Chrissy has, and there’s another part of you that feels guilty for that. It’s not her fault you’re broken, not her fault you’ve been a shell of your former self for months now. You’re too in your head, and before you know it you’re turning away from the service window, furiously wiping at the tears that have started to fall down your cheeks.

The rest of your day is spent the same way it started — the same way all of your previous days had been spent; thinking about Eddie Munson, and what could have been. If only you could change what happened last Christmas.

taglist: @hellfirenacht @writethrough @littledemondani @prettyboyeddiemunson @trashmouth-richie @succubusmunson @likedovesinthewnd @tlclick73 @mrsjellymunson @idkitsem

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson angst #support banner by cafekitsune #i’ll be home for christmas

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bangaveragewhitewine · 6 months

Text

all is calm, all is bright

dad!Eddie Munson x mom!Reader

Your baby’s first Christmas, a silent moment in the festive glow.

Word count: 1.2k

Content/Warnings: Pure fluff. Short and sweet. Eddie and Reader are parents. Childbirth mention. Reader referred to as 'Mama'. No physical description of Reader - insert yourself, my loves!

Author’s note: Something small and seasonal as I try to get back into some sort of creative flow again. Much grá to you all, my lovelies ❤️

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Cherry Lane glowed in the dusky winter light that fell over Hawkins. The entire town dazzled with a warm holiday glow from Christmas lights and the bright excitement of the littlest townsfolk all riled up for a visit from the Big Man later that night.

Your little home was no different - in fact, it might have been the cosiest home in the whole county. Coloured lights twinkled around the window frames, a handmade wreath hung on the door, and plastic candy canes diligently lined the snow-dusted path to guide Santa’s sleigh. It was a picture-perfect holiday card, inside and out.

Maeve Munson was too young to comprehend the very concept of Christmas, or Santa Claus for that matter. Too shiny and new to recognise the stocking with her name on it hanging above the small fireplace, or the presents wrapped in glossy printed paper beneath the tree.

Just a few weeks old, she arrived as an early gift for you and Eddie. The best one you had ever received. In true Munson fashion, her entrance to the world had been a little dramatic, but Eddie had held your hand and let you squeeze as hard as you needed until Maeve made her debut with a head of dark hair and a loud set of lungs.

From your cosy nesting place on the sofa, you watch her big brown eyes gazing at the twinkling coloured lights and baubles on the tree. With her cheek resting against her father’s shoulder, Maeve blinks, slow and sleepy, as she listens to his voice.

“I know you’re really into the boob right now, kid, but you’re going to love Christmas dinner once you’re big enough.” Eddie’s voice is a low murmur as he rocks slowly from side to side, chest to chest with his daughter.

His hand looks huge on her back, patting a slow and gentle rhythm that just exists for the two of them.

You can’t take your eyes off of them, despite how tired you feel. It would be so easy to just close them, a quick few minutes rest, but you would miss them too much.

You wish that your camera was closer so you could snap and savour this moment as one you can hold in your hands.

It is peaceful bliss bathed in colourful light; you soak it in, savour it.

There have been no tears for an hour, though you feel like you are right on the precipice of breaking that streak with how much love and joy you feel, swelling like pride in your chest.

The house is warm, the old window frames are fixed with double-glazed glass that keeps the chilly winter air out. It’s rough around the edges, but there is food in the fridge and the cupboards are full. There’s a tree and lights, a few presents beneath it.

It’s not much but it’s enough. All you need is right in front of you.

Eddie catches you watching them, smiles as he nuzzles against chestnut brown hair that will curl and coil like his own in time.

He pauses his murmured monologue, his waxing lyrical about everything he will pile on his plate tomorrow. Everyone’s bringing something to family Christmas at Harrington’s - you managed to make two desserts while Eddie introduced Maeve to A Charlie Brown Christmas, one eye on you the whole time to make sure you weren’t doing too much. Bringing the Littlest Party Member is the real treat for your friends and family, who will take turns holding her and squabble when one of them hogs the baby for too long.

“Hi Mama,” he says, his voice so soft as he crosses the room slowly on socked feet.

“Hi,” you whisper back, the thick feeling in your throat stalling you from speaking any louder. Part of it is fear, fear that you will undo Eddie’s magic touch at lulling Maeve to sleep. Her eyes are almost closed, almost.

Slowly, so slowly, he lowers down to sit by you. His gentle sway keeps up, like a lazy metronome, as he takes a load off. His sigh is carried from the tips of his toes, feeling like an almost burnt-out bulb.

“You’re really good at that,” you murmur, smiling through the tiredness.

“Hmm? Don’t count on it, she’s going to be wide awake again in a sec when she realises we’re not standing up.”

“Mm, maybe. This whole Dad thing suits you, Munson.”

When he smiles, you can still see the shadows beneath his eyes - you have a set to match, his and hers. There’s spit-up on his sleeve and his hair needs a wash. But he is beautiful.

Being parents wasn’t easy, you didn’t think it would be but some days you didn’t think it would be so hard either. You think that maybe if Eddie let his eyes slip closed, he would fall asleep too from his own gentle rocking rhythm.

“I can take a turn,” you say, bringing your hand to rub his back in wide smooth circles, mirroring him and Maeve.

You know his scowl is coming, and still, it makes you smile.

“Mm-mm, my turn,” he said, brows pulled in as his mouth pouts prettily. Much like your friends, it was easy to fall into a parental squabble of taking turns for the shitty nappies and the baby cuddles.

“Baby hogger,” you whisper without malice, pushing yourself closer to kiss his stubbly cheek.

“Yep, my baby now. You get to cuddle her all day when m’workin’.”

Eddie turns his head, lets his nose bump yours. His chin juts forward just a little to beg a kiss. You don’t even need to think about it, loving him is as easy as breathing.

There’s a pause, like bracing for impact, when Maeve makes a noise against his shoulder. The pause in his swaying did not go unnoticed.

“Can’t get anything past her, huh?” you murmur, leaving one last smiley kiss to his full lower lip.

“Nah, m’done for with you two.” His face cracks into a smile, he wouldn’t want it any other way.

You watch as he sits back a little, resting his head against the back of the second-hand sofa. You peel yourself up just enough to drag the coffee table close enough so he can put his feet up.

“Only ‘coz it’s Christmas,” you murmur, seeing his grin.

“You spoil me, baby.”

You spoil him more by dragging your blanket over his lap, sharing its fleecy warmth as Maeve slowly, so slowly, drifts off.

There are still gifts to wrap for Wayne and for your friends, laundry to be tossed in the dryer, but for now, you sit together as your baby sleeps, basking in the glow of Christmas.

Maeve’s breath is deep and steady; she makes these tiny noises that have brought tears to your eyes and Eddie’s on more than one occasion. Partly because she is finally asleep, but mostly because they are the sweetest thing you have ever heard.

Scooting closer, you press another kiss to Eddie’s cheek and close your eyes for just a moment, breathing in his warm spice, a hint of tobacco from his one cigarette - he wants to be around for Maeve, for you.

“Merry Christmas, Eddie.”

Your voice is just above a whisper, just loud enough for Eddie to hear. Your words warm him, settle deep in his bones and set his heart aglow.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

His lips press yours in a single kiss, sweeter than any hot cocoa, any candy cane.

Thank you for reading! Reblogs, likes and comments are absolutely adored and cherished ❤️

#dad!eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #dad!eddie munson x mom!reader #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #bangaveragefics

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bettyfrommars · 6 months

Text

Santa Comes Once a Year

biker!eddie x fem!reader

I had a request from the amazing @idkidknemore for "biker Eddie dressed up as Santa, railing reader on his motorcycle sleigh" and I also wanted some Eddie as Santa action for the Holiday Prompt Party I am doing with @allthingsjoeq he is not a mall Santa in this, but still.

wc: 2.7k

18+ONLY, smut, unprotected p in v, dirty talk, talk of cheating (on Mrs. Claus), roleplay, creampie, fingering, bit of spanking, ton of cliche phrases, sexualizing Santa, secret sex I guess? but it's just pretend, semi-public sex if you squint.

summary: you go to the Lighted Farm Implement show for the first time with Robin and Oliver to see what Eddie and Steve have cooked up for the parade. Afterwards, Santa takes you back to his place in his towtruck sleigh and wants to give you some cream with your cookies.

author's note: This can absolutely be enjoyed as a smutty standalone, but some elements of I'm on Fire are mentioned, including Robin raising Steve's son Oliver with him since he was a baby, and the fact that biker Eddie runs his own towing/mechanic business.

This was your first time attending the night time Lighted Farm Implement parade in Hawkins, and you weren’t sure what that even meant until Robin explained it to you.

“You know, Farm Implements. They decorate them with Christmas lights and throw candy for the kids.”

For some reason, all you could picture were shovels and snippers dancing through the street like some magical Beauty and the Beast scene.

Robin’s cheeks were rosy and she had Oliver in her arms, a navy Columbia fleece zipped up to her chin. Mother and son each had matching, fuzzy blue ear muffs on. She noticed your confused expression as the three of you walked up the street from where you parked.

“Tractors, backhoes, dumptrucks, cement mixers,” she gave a few examples and your face lit up in recognition. “There will also be buses, a few 18-wheelers, and a tractor bed with the Mayor on it.”

The big, shiny black tow truck from Munson’s Garage was in the parade too, and you were curious to see what Eddie and the guys had done to it. Your boyfriend had been asked to dress as one of the Santa’s that year, and you’d switched evenings at the Velvet Hammer with Jackie just so you could witness this miracle of the season, being that Eddie wasn’t a huge fan of Christmas.

He mostly did it for Oliver, to see the wonder on his face when Santa knew his name, and that year specifically, he was doing it for you. He wanted to impress you by being the star of the show.

Everyone from town lined the streets and cheered as the Hawkins high school band trumpeted down the lane to officially begin the parade with cheerleaders punching pompoms in the air at the front. Robin put Oliver down and you all moved through the crowd to get closer to the action. .

Behind the band was a green John Deere bulldozer all decked out in colorful bulbs and an arc of gingerbread people up the back. The owner of the local grocer drove a 1945 Chevy truck with Christmas trees in the back and a person dressed like an elf in the passenger seat tossing out chocolate bars. A few skidded close to Oliver and he lurched to grab them with an excited scream.

Each vehicle had its own music playing, and the next yellow backhoe with a santa in the bucket and adorned with snowflake lights was blaring Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree by Brenda Lee. They threw some lollipops out, and this time you rushed to snatch a few for Ollie so that he wouldn’t have to go too far out into the street.

You were distracted watching the mammoth equipment vehicle pass when you heard Oliver screech and point, “Daddy!”

Your head snapped and there was Eddie’s tow truck, blinking with what seemed like a billion white twinkle lights with a pine wreath on the grill, and a person hanging off the side of the truck dressed as…a goat? Or was it Father Time?

Oliver recognized Steve immediately, and when he spotted his son, he jumped down from the step up to the cab with a sack of candy in his hand and came jogging over. As he got closer, you tried to make out his costume, but came up with nothing. He was wearing his typical biker attire with his Coffin Kings leather cut on over a hooded sweatshirt and black jeans, but the faux beard he had on was long and thin down to his belly button, and it was gray, not white. He wore sunglasses and a black fedora.

He ran to give Ollie the bag of candy while the tow truck rolled by at a snail pace.

“Are you Biker Santa?” You asked, sneaking a look at the sexy Santa in a red hat behind the steering wheel of the tow who was waving to get your attention. You blew Eddie a kiss and he made the gesture of catching it in the air.

Steve held his arms out as he trotted backwards to get back on his ride. “I’m one of the guys from ZZ Top!” He shouted, as if it should’ve been obvious.

You shared a look with Robin. “Don’t ask,” she mumbled.

They were towing a wrecked car behind them with what appeared to be four reindeer holding cans of beer, each hanging out a window. The song Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer played cheekily from speakers that were mounted on the lift.

All three of you cheered and screamed for the rest of the show, and by the time two clowns in tiny toy trucks brought up the rear, you felt a warm body press up against your backside and you tilted your head back into the squish of a white, fluffy beard.

“Ho ho ho,” Eddie whispered against the shell of your ear making your body tingle from the warmth of his breath. “I hear you’re the naughtiest girl in town.”

He stepped away and tapped Ollie on the shoulder, taking on a deep, jolly voice. “And who is this good little boy?”

Oliver had the white stem of a sucker sticking out of his mouth when he turned. “Oh hi Uncle Eddie,” he managed, sucking back purple saliva.

Eddie straightened to full height, his eyes falling on Robin with a blink of sadness, but she only shrugged. “He’s getting wise to the world, what can I say?”

You turned to melt into your boyfriend’s chest, feeling the bit of padding he had on his belly under the soft faux fur accents of his red velvet coat. There was a little jingle bell on the end of his Santa hat, and you flicked it with your finger. You pushed him back through the crowd, off to the sidewalk and into the shadows, making him back up as you went.

“So,” you made sure no one was around before you slid your hand between his legs. “Is this the official Yule Log, or are you just happy to see me?”

You could barely find his mouth under the synthetic mustache, and then you giggled and sputtered on a stiff Santa hair.

He yanked the beard down with a tug of his fist, stretching the elastic band that held it in place, so that it was under his chin and pulled you in again, returning your kiss so deep that a small groan escaped you.

“You wanna get out of here?” he said in a rush, and then he nudged your nose with his. “Come sit in my sleigh with me?”

Steve was reunited with his family by then, with Oliver up on his shoulders, and you checked to see the three of them head off in the opposite direction, possibly to Robin’s car. You were all planning to meet back up at their place to make cookies in an hour, so you had a window of time.

Back in the cab of the tow truck that was parked down the street, Eddie pulled the pillow stuffing out from under his coat and flipped the heat on high, but it almost wasn’t needed because the makeout session that ensued made the windows fog up. You took his hat and beard off and tossed them on the dash so that you could finally have your hands around that face that you loved so much, squirming to get closer to him. He had his hair tied up in the back and you released the band so that his locks fell around his shoulders.

“If I’d known this would get you going baby, I would’ve put the beard on earlier,” he huffed.

You flicked your tongue out to tease him a few times. “I need you inside of me, Santa. No one will know, it will be our secret,” and you were just about to kick your leg over to straddle his lap when you both realized that there were people walking right next to the vehicle on the sidewalk.

“Let’s get out of here, Mistress,” Eddie kissed your cheek. “Take this back to the garage, finish what we started.”

You sat back, giving him a raised brow as he shifted the monster vehicle into gear. “Oh, you think I’m just going to give it up when and wherever you want?”

“I think you’ll do whatever I tell you to do,” he said over his shoulder, watching for traffic before pulling into the street. “I’m Santa.”

—-----

You sat right next to him the whole way there, like lovers do, with his hand on your thigh. He still had the wrecked car with the beer-guzzling reindeer statues inside, so he was careful on the turns, while festive bystanders honked and waved.

At the Munson Garage compound, Eddie thought he would unhook the wrecked car from the crane, but there wasn’t time for that—he could feel your arousal dampening your jeans. Parking in the furthest garage would have to do.

“Get over here, naughty girl,” he licked his lips and opened his Santa jacket to reveal two black suspenders over a white t-shirt, and then he undid the suspenders to move his hand down to fist himself.

Your boots were off and your jeans at your knees when the sight of the tip of his glistening pink tip freed from his wholesome attire made you pause to touch yourself, putting your back against the opposite door with your legs spread so he could watch.

It was dim in the roomy cab of the truck, but Eddie could still see the wet spot on your red underwear where you worked your fingers and he bit out a curse.

“You heard me,” his tone was stern. “I said get that beautiful ass over here and sit on Santa’s cock.”

You didn’t bother taking your underwear off as you kicked your jeans away and scrambled over, giggling when he pushed his red pants down a bit more to show the mistletoe print on his boxers. Your head hit the roof of the cab, but then you were finally squatting in his lap, teeth hitting as you fumbled into position.

He was quick to reach down between the two of you and move your panties to the side so that he could rub his knuckle up and down your slippery clit.

He puffed out a chest full of air. “Goddamn was it the beard or the whole thing?”

“Just you,” you lifted up, pushing his hair back to cup your hands on either side of his throat. “I’ve been aching for you all night, Santa. Waiting for you to come down my chimney.”

Eddie shivered, reaching to line his tip up with you. “Why is this so hot, holy shit,” he chuckled softly.

But then he was inside of you, and you sank down an inch with a cry, arousal dripping down his length.

His mouth pressed into the side of yours. “Did you miss me all year? You want to be a bad girl for me now?”

“That’s why you come to my house, isn’t it Santa?” You gasped. “Because you want to fuck me? I’m your favorite.”

Eddie hissed and threw his head back as you bottomed out. You could feel the faux fur from the top of his pants ticking your taint. “You know I always come back for you, because you take me so good, fuck—-”

You rocked your hips, squeezing that important muscle as you went. “Better than Mrs. Claus?”

Eddie gripped your ass and pulled your cheeks apart with his strong, calloused fingers, thrusting up to meet you, smacking against your wetness. “Better than anyone, fuck. I dream about this all year. Landing my sleigh in Hawkins so I can bury myself in your tight, wet cunt.”

You were both breathing heavy, sweat trickling down your necks, while a few snow flurries danced into the garage.

You reached a hand down to work two fingers at your clit. Every word you said was against his lips: “I want some cream with my cookies, please Santa.”

“Yeah?” Eddie huffed, rolling his hips in his seat so that you could feel every inch of his cock, making you whine a string of obscenities. “What else do you want, huh? You want me to fill you up all night, so my cream drips out of you on Christmas day?”

He spanked your asscheek with a thwack and you arched back. “Yes Santa, please, ruin me so I only fuck myself to thoughts of you.”

“I’m about to cum,” Eddie breathed, and your mouths met in a frenzy of tongues and moans. He could feel you throb around him.

“So soon, Santa?” You teased.

“Shhhhh,” he took hold of your throat and planted his booted feet to thrust up into, taking you for a ride.

You put your forehead to his and bounced a few more times, and then you froze, mouth open in a silent scream as the wave began to crash.

“That’s my baby,” he held you in that position and continued to buck up to bury himself inside over and over. “Cum for Santa, let me feel it.”

Your eyes rolled back in your head as you exploded around him, whimpering and twitching.

The back of your heel kicked up and accidentally flipped a switch on the dash, making all of the Christmas lights on the truck blaze on, and Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer blared from the speakers.

You clung to Eddie while he came, shuddering at how good it felt but also

In a few seconds, you were both grinning, shoulders bobbing with laughter as the song seemed to herald in your mutual releases.

The windows of the cab were completely fogged up, and between that and the music, neither of you heard anyone enter the garage until there was a bang on the driver’s side door.

“What the—?” Eddie scowled, and you were already scampering off of him, snatching clothing from the floorboard to cover yourself.

Eddie tucked himself back into the huge wet spot on his pants and wiped condensation off of the glass so that he could see who it was. He was about to be angry, thinking it was one of the other mechanics about to give him shit or try to get a peek at you

but it was Steve.

The truck was lifted and the windows up too high for him to see in, but still Eddie checked to make sure you were decent before he rolled the window down. He leaned over to switch off the lights and the music. You gave a nod as you wrapped your coat around your waist.

“Hey,” Eddie wiped some hair out of his face, trying to act casual. “What up? Everything okay?”

Steve had his long beard in his hand, hugging himself, shivering against the cold, with the fedora pulled snug to his ears. “Did you forget you were going to give me a ride? I just walked halfway across town. Slipped and fell on the fucking ice twice.”

Eddie dropped his forehead to his fist. “Shit sorry man I—-why didn’t you go with Robin?”

“Because I told her I was riding back with you to unhook the rig,” Steve sounded annoyed, teeth chattering, and you didn’t blame him, but still you stifled a giggle into your arm.

“Tried to call Astrid from a payphone, and she’s not answering, so now I’ve got blisters from these stupid elf boots that Robbie made me buy.”

Eddie pulled his lips in over his teeth to contain his amusement.

“It’s not funny, dude,” Steve said, but then he caught a glimpse of you in the cab and you gave an apologetic grimace. “Oh okay, I get it. Forgiven. But can we get this shit over with so we can get out of here? Robin doesn’t know how to work an oven and she’ll probably burn the place down before we get there.”

Eddie stretched across the cab to kiss you. “Stay in here, keep warm. I’ll put the Chevelle around when we’re done.”

“Go help your ZZ Top elf, Kris Kringle,” you shoved him playfully, but then he held his face there and hummed until you kissed him again.

You pulled your jeans up, eager to keep Santa’s gift from spilling out.

---------

I'm on Fire taglist:

@notsobubblybaby @unfocused81 @aysheashea @etherealglimmer@manicmagicmayhem @dream-a-little-nightmare@chaoticgood-munson @emxcast @rhirojo @bexreadstoomuch @micheledawn1975 @falling-solar-system@secretdryrose

@whatwedontdointheshadows @miarosso @seventhlevelofhell @corrodedcoffincumslut @lofaewrites @goldyghoul @chloe-6123 @kelsiegrin @chelebelletx @stylesxmunson @kurdtbean@dandelionnfluff @clincallyonline17 @tlclick73 @eddiemunson95 @sidthedollface2 @hideoutside @truffleshuffle12 @tenthmoon @texasblues@emilyslutface@mmunson86@onegirlmanytales@laylaloves-ed@dashingdeb16@eddiiiieeee @ick90 @dashingdeb16 @polyestermonster @trixyvixx @atomickaratel8dy @kiyastrf94 @allthingsjoeq @eddiesxangel @razzieth @corrodeddeadlydoll @erinekc @angietherose @sllooney @writinginthetwilight @moonbeamsandmayhem @brianamunson92 @joannamuns9n @bellalillyrose @alba8688 @chevelle724 @chaoticgood-munson

#Eddie Munson #biker Eddie Munson #biker!eddie #towtruck!eddie #I'm on Fire #Santa Comes Once a Year #biker!steve #holiday fic #Eddie munson smut #santa smut

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meimi-haneoka · 3 months

Text

Cardcaptor Sakura Clear Card Special Chapter: Comments and Analysis

WELCOME BACK, CCS FAAAAAAAAAAAANSSS!!!!!

Oh my god 3 months went already by from that December 1st and chapter 80, didn't they?? Feels like yesterday 🙈But we're finally here, finally ready for the release of the definitive, last SPECIAL CHAPTER of Cardcaptor Sakura Clear Card!!!! After this, no more CCS for at least a while!!

Why do you see me so euphoric?? WELL, THERE IS MORE THAN ONE VERY GOOD REASON 😂 But let's not jump the gun and let's introduce this post properly: this time around, I won't be posting pictures to "illustrate" the analysis/commentary, because this special chapter was treated differently from the other ones. It didn't get, in fact, a free release on CLAMP's Youtube channel, in any language, and wasn't even uploaded for digital purchase on Comic Days like all the rest of the chapters. The only way to obtain it was via the April issue of Nakayoshi, either with the physical or digital version. Since it is clear to me their intention to keep this gem of a special chapter away from the internet jungle, and since lately I used only the screenshots from Youtube to illustrate my analysis, this time around I won't be posting anything (aside from the color page, which was released by the official account themselves).

AND! I won't be mixing analysis and summary, because I have already conveniently prepared some screenshots with a detailed summary of the chapter for the people who were curious to know, but didn't get to see the chapter yet or did see it but couldn't read Japanese. I have already posted these screenshots on my Twitter account, and I'll put them here too under the cut (please don't repost them around or in other social media), so you can immediately get a broad view on the content of the chapter (I don't have to point out translation mistakes, haha 😅), and then, afterwards, I'll write my commentary. And there is SO MUCH to say!!

But before starting, we can't break the tradition right at the LAST ROUND of our chapter commentaries, right?? So off we go, with the GIF OF THE MONTH!!

Yes, I think this is the GIF that can represent this chapter the most. 😂

The Color Page

This special chapter is composed of 33 pages, and of course I can't avoid starting my commentary precisely from the color page!!

I admit it, I hoped for a color spread with the four main characters of Clear Card (hence, including Kaito and Akiho too), but since the other two appeared with their own color page just in chapter 79, we'll gladly take this single color page with SyaoSaku too!! ❤️ The JP text reads "We've been together till now, and we will always be! Featuring a long-awaited special chapter!!" Syaosaku look absolutely adorable....and so, so happy!! Looking at us, from a wreath made of cherry blossoms, of course dressed in their image colors pink and green, in a "pair look"...I think their shiny smiles conquered the hearts of the entire fandom (saw many comments about it) and it is certainly a perfect introduction to a chapter that is, indeed, completely made of this happy, leisurely, warm atmosphere. I feel like it tastes even better, after all the anxiety they made us go through, right? I'm pretty sure that was CLAMP's goal all along, giving us this little reward after all the hard situations they've put their characters through. This color page looks like Sakura and Syaoran are saying "goodbye" to us, holding their hands in a lover's hold, but seeing them so cute and happy definitely soothes the sad feeling 🥲 Until we meet again...hopefully!

Letters From Around The World

But it's when the chapter starts that we get our first surprise: the time skip is of one entire year!!! We left our little heroes at the end of the first year of Tomoeda Middle school, ready to go in spring break and then start the second year...here, Sakura says she's in her spring break of the next year, ready to become a 9th grader!!! I almost couldn't believe they actually went that far, I knew from CLAMP's podcast that there was a timeskip, but I expected just some months! Although....I have to say the characters don't look that different, Mokona said she made them a tiny bit older and she kept true to that, because it's barely visible! 🤭 But if you compare them with how they looked at the middle of the story, of course the difference is visible.

I was so happy to see that the chapter started right away with a letter from Akiho: a letter or a videocall was definitely among the type of content I wanted to see in this chapter, because of course I still was quite preoccupied about the difficult journey Akiho and Kaito embarked on, so I wanted to see how they were faring. The amount of letters Sakura accumulated over the span of this year tells me that they moved around quite a lot, and she had always something to share with her "long-distance sister" 🤭 Kero praising Akiho's skills and even feeling some sort of "reverence" for her insane talent to find all the crazy and rare books was so funny and nice!! 😂Sakura is adorable, feeling all proud about the talent of her "sister" 🤭 Loved that they actually mentioned the place where Akiho and Kaito are currently at!! (cause they didn't reveal where they'd go first, in chapter 80, and I guess we'll never know). I appreciated SO SO much that they let us see that Akiho didn't drop, but actually continued to practice her sewing skills like she was doing before everything went down the drain with the Alice in Clockland play: moreover, finding out later that this skill is also helping her greatly with the true ambition of her life made me incredibly satisfied. How cute of her to send outfits for Kero and Suppy, even from far away??

I was quite surprised to find out that Akiho sends all the rare books to Eriol, and then laughed my as* off at Kero saying he's selling them off (the way Kero phrases it in JP makes it look a QUITE shady activity 😂). This shows there's a continued collaboration between the "group" in England and YunaAki, and it's very nice. They're not only "taking" support from Eriol, Akiho also does return the favor, providing Eriol with the books he needs.

And then....got really emotional to know that Kaito wrote a letter to Sakura, back when they left one year ago 🥲 I DID feel like some kind of acknowledgement or apology from Kaito to Sakura was missing from chapter 80 (but honestly, with everything they had to explain, where they could fit that?) and so this little mention completely fixed that sense of "he made a mess and barely managed to apologize to Akiho before leaving". Kaito isn't an ass*ole so of course he would've done something like that, and a letter seems perfect for an introvert boy of few words like him. I imagine the letter wasn't really long either. The little moon on the sealing wax...❤️The fact that Sakura is storing that single letter together with Akiho's letters in a specific box makes me almost cry. She cares for those two so, so much! 😭 Sakura wishes to receive more letters from Kaito and I really hope he will open up to her along the way, because he could benefit ENORMOUSLY from her advices and perspective! Also THANK YOU CLAMP for giving us a little "still" of those two next to eachother from the moment when they were leaving Tomoeda, with the suitcases and all 🥲that last faraway shot of all four of them together in chapter 80 was so great, but I wanted to see them like this too!

The SyaoSaku Date

Aaaaaand then we get to the long awaited, craved, coveted SYAOSAKU DATE!!! 🤣 I can't count how many people I've seen wishing for this....to be honest I was going to be ok with any kind of sweet moment between the two, but gotta admit that a carefree afternoon watching a stage play and then taking refreshment at a café gives this sense of normal, complete fun that was missing a bit for them. They are dressed in a very fancy way (loved that Sakura isn't wearing her usual long one-pieces but something different, with puff shorts! A sign of her growing up?) and even though they're not exactly wearing a "pair look" (too corny, maybe?), they are well matching eachother's outfits. And of course we find out that Tomoyo made Sakura's cute outfit and even the decorations on Syaoran's collar! The fact she was the one asking Syaoran to wear them at the date is kinda funny, like some sort of guidance into looking like a couple, thanks to the matching decorations! Tomoyo really takes care of everything....yes....everything. 🥲 The mention of Sakura's wedding dress of course made me go "OH MY GOD" and made me realize that if Tomoyo is already mentioning that.......we aren't *that* far away from that day (I always imagined SyaoSaku marrying early, since they're soulmates and got together so young!! 😆). Truly an emotional, sweet moment that was reinforced by Tomoyo's tender expression in the flashback. Her resolution to devote herself to learn to design even normal everyday outfits, or date outfits, everything that could accompany her dear Sakura everyday, reminded me that Tomoyo found her very own way to be with Sakura, and she's perfectly content with that. Tomoyo's happiness is seeing Sakura happy, and she will do anything to achieve that. ✨

Syaoran and Kaito's Friendship

And then my blushy blushy Sakura changes topic and suddenly throws me on the floor in a fit of laughter, because seeing Syaoran's confused look while he was trying to make sense of the pictures Kaito sent him on his phone WAS HONESTLY PRICELESS. 😆 My god, how long have I wished to see them like this? Moving their timid steps into a friendship (since their girlfriends are like sisters and Sakura literally saved Kaito's derriere), being their awkward dorky selves...they surprisingly get along so well and Syaoran doesn't seem to hold resentment towards him, which is GREAT for me!! He's learning from Sakura to just let go of hard feelings, when you've found out the person who acted in an oppositive way was just in a very desperate situation and had actually no ill intentions. And that makes me incredibly happy. Kaito needs all the support he can get, to make the right decisions in his life, and I can totally see him finding a particular connection with Syaoran, due to how they're both moon boys, who would give their life for the person they love. I think precisely for this, precisely because Syaoran can understand to a degree Kaito's situation and behavior, he wouldn't feel judged and would feel more free to establish a connection with him. I was k*lled with laughter and endearment when I saw that Syaoran felt confused, but still tried to understand Kaito's peculiar way of communicating with him 😂 And guess what? I think he doesn't realize it, but he's totally starting to get it! 😂The way our wolfie boy snaps that picture IMMEDIATELY as the cat passes by, and how he only framed the ear, really shows how in the end he's speaking "the same language" as Kaito 😂 Seeing Sakura so excitedly think to herself that the two became such good friends made me scream "SAME SAKURA-CHAN, SAME!!!" 😂 All in all, seeing these two having such a relaxed, comfortable date talking about their friends and stuff that happened lately made me completely feel that one year that elapsed, and now they act totally like a couple that's been dating for quite some time. 😊 Ooooh thank you sensei, really. Thank you so much for this scene. 🙏

The Moon Is Really Beautiful, Right?

BUT! The real reason why CLAMP will always have my heart and my gratitude is hidden in the next scene. 😂

Oh my god, the screams I've belted out when I saw them. And when I've read THAT. But let's go in order, let's go in order and not jump the gun! We're in Germany, Akiho and Kaito now seem to be living in an apartment in a nice building! They're still talking in keigo, and still calling eachother "Akiho-san" and "Kaito-san". 😊

Kaito SMILES genuinely at the picture Syaoran sent him!! And answers, to an observant Akiho, that he's having fun!! 😭HIM! The one who couldn't understand what was fun in interacting with others!!! He looks honestly so radiant and happy, a sign that his mental recovery is going strong. And that he's slowly expanding his "trusted people" network. 🥲🙏Also, he looks younger than ever!!! 😂

It made me INCREDIBLY HAPPY to see that Akiho didn't drop the "hobby" she had started in chapter 26 (ages ago!!), remember this scene?

I remember how much I loved to know she had started learning how to do this, because together with my friends, at the time, we all thought this could easily become her aspiration in life......and guess what?? CLAMP confirmed she wants to take on a job revolving around books and book repairing!! This is all canon!! T___T oh my happy tears.... There's a sense of pride in seeing that this journey for Akiho isn't only revolving around finding the cure for Kaito's shortened lifespan (which hurt his body terribly) and restarting his "stopped time", or finding Momo and the Alice in Clockland book, but she's also got the mental resolution to do something for herself, for what she wants to do in life, something that is completely disconnected from Kaito. Again, I cannot reiterate enough how this girl doesn't have an unhealthy codependent relationship with Kaito, and she's completely capable of thinking about her own future, aspirations and wishes. She wants him with her, and she could never live happily without him, but the love of her life isn't the only thing that exists for her. It is incredibly satisfying to see her working hard for her own future, where she'll be able to contribute (especially financially) to their livelihood. I can see Kaito helping her and assisting her with that. The other day I was dreaming away with my friends about Kaito and Akiho managing a "book cafè" together somewhere, how impossibly sweet that would be?

Seeing this volitive, ambitious, strong-willed Akiho once again filled my heart immensely. And I wasn't the only one, apparently.....

Oh god, you have no idea of the SHRIEKS I belted out when I saw Kaito saying "the moon is really beautiful, right?" in full daylight. Like. It is absolutely unmistakable at this point what kind of love he feels for her, and while I always knew, I'm sure the character took his own sweet time and personal introspection to reach that conclusion. If you remember, I've always said it and reiterated it at the end of chapter 80: Kaito won't understand things overnight, it will take a long time. And one year, at that age, is enough of a long time to come to terms with one's feelings and understanding what exactly they mean. They lived all that time together as two "equals", no more butler/boss bullsh*t, so they had even more opportunities to see eachother's true colors. And Kaito couldn't help but fall even more in love with Akiho, to the point that seeing her working so excitedly for her future made him gently overflow with that feeling....and said that sweet quote of Natsume Soseki that we all know, by now, what it means. I think the mere fact that what made his heart explode was seeing her so independent and strong, is a good sign that Kaito's love for her is the healthy and supportive kind, too. He doesn't love her and feels attracted to her soul because she's a weaker, younger, malleable being that he can dominate (as a toxic relationship would portray), but at the contrary, because she's free and strong and wonderful on her own. The more he sees her shining, the more that feeling grows. Throughout this scene, he looks at her and talks to her in such an intensely sweet way, you can totally see he's smitten with her.

The most popular reply to someone who confesses with "the moon is beautiful" is the equivalent of "I could die for you/I can die happy now", in Japanese. And Kaito had been unconsciously replying that way, with his actions, the whole damn time during the serialization of Clear Card. But since he took it way too literally, things were really heading to tragedy. Nobody wanted him to die for real, and yet, subconsciously, that was the only way he had found to give outlet to an enormous amount of feels that he couldn't express (because it wasn't appropriate, and nobody would ever love him, and he only caused her pain, and he had to let go of Akiho anyway at the end of it).

So considering all of THAT, this "I love you very much" he said now (he added とても, "very", like Akiho did ❤️) in this way, makes me think even more "yes, you finally understood what was the best way to convey it!" and therefore, it represents another character development for our moon boy. 🥲

There's debate over whether he had already understood what Akiho had meant, in chapter 48. I stand firmly by my convinction that, even if he was informed of the Japanese folklore tale around it, he quickly dismissed it as "no, she's meaning it literally for the moon", since he couldn't really believe that anyone would ever take interest in him, and was sure he would've always been alone. Otherwise, if he really understood and believed that Akiho was in love with him, I don't think he could've ever said that "I thought you didn't need me to be happy". It doesn't make sense. But everything that happened at the fake moon, and all her angry tears, and all her resolution to find a way to cure him, made him finally see that she really meant it in that way. ❤️So his own acceptance and introspection could finally start, and....it brought to this. ❤️ If you want to know more about the popular phrase "the moon is beautiful, right?", I invite you to check my first Clear Card Trivia post, focused on the literary and musical references portrayed throughout this story!

And LOL, I couldn't help but noticing several things in how this scene played out: first, he immediately "runs away" blabbering about the breakfast being ready, a very similar way to how he "ran away" in chapter 52 when Akiho could see right through him and was trying to express her support and feelings to him. This is definitely an indication (taking into consideration also how he acted when he was little) that the reason why Kaito walked away back then, slamming the door, had a sprinkle of embarrassment embedded in it, too. Yeah. I mean, look at the face he's making here, just before he notices, puzzled, that his hand is shaking:

He's smiling so tenderly, among the pain he's feeling because of his poor health. He even laughs! He's happy he heard that! But he just couldn't stay hearing any longer, back then. Now, in this scene of the special chapter, he literally throws "the bomb" and runs away without hearing her answer or reaction 😂😂😂this is definitely embarrassment, and I'd like to think there's even a hint of teasing streak that I've always seen between the lines in his personality. It came out particularly with Syaoran and Momo, but Akiho isn't excluded from this dynamic! 😂

And excuse me, but Akiho's reaction literally made me roll on the floor laughing!! 😂The poor girl is probably so used to live abroad, and Japanese folklore isn't probably coming up immediately in her mind anymore, despite it's a phrase SHE used HERSELF back then! 😂Or maybe it's because she didn't really expect it from him, and so she took a moment to connect the dots. Either way, it was extremely funny! And I can't absolutely avoid pointing out how our girl isn't blushing like mad anymore, but just slightly.... I mean. It must have been quite clear to her too, by now, that her feelings were in some kind "reciprocated", be it for what Sakura said back at the fake moon, his decision to go back to her, and his decision to reveal his true name, hence giving her his most vulnerable part of himself... This isn't a shock for her, and she probably waited patiently, patiently, for him to finally say something like this. So maybe, more than embarrassed, she's surprised that the day finally came! 🥲 Goodness. This really puts all my worries to rest, Akiho will truly be happy. And it makes total sense that CLAMP made him say this now, and not at the end of chapter 80. As I said, more time was needed. This entire scene leaves me with a sweet, soft, comfortable feeling, and it's totally how I've always imagined their relationship to be. Also....no more of that "he loves her as a daughter/sister" crap, not canon-wise at least. 😊

One last thing I have to point out about this scene, which curiously reconnects everything together, is that recently CLAMP have announced the themes to which their upcoming exhibition will revolve around: among them, there's LOVE (of course!), and among the decorations surrounding the featured character on the key visual (Sakura, for now, but there's at least another one coming!) there are a couple of birds too. Birds are, in this sense, a symbol of love in CLAMP's language. I couldn't really help but noticing all the birds flying outside the window next to Akiho, the moment Kaito says that "the moon is really beautiful, right?". Basically, CLAMP were trying to scream it all over the place, however they could. 😂

"Momo-san?!"

It was so nice to see Yukito and Kero-chan gossiping about Touya right in his face, with the complete intention to tease him 😂in that sense, Yukito really seems like a sweet and harmless character, but don't be fooled! His teasing power is over 9000!! 😂Touya's killing glare made me crack up! He's so done for, now that both Kero and Yukito can tease him in the open! 😂😂😂

But please, please, let me scream about MOMO!!! Oh my god I would've never accepted a special chapter that didn't feature her!! Aaaaahhh I'm so glad to see that she's fine 🥲 The conversation between her and Sakura made clear to me that she isn't that free to move how I imagined her to be. Certainly, she decides where to go and who the book stays with (and when to leave), but the impartiality imposed on her role doesn't allow her to act freely like she wants, unless she pays a price. And she decided to pay a price, not to see Akiho and Kaito, but to go and thank Sakura herself first. Because, as her "those kids" suggests, she of course still feels some kind of maternal instinct towards them, and as any mother would do, she wants to thank Sakura from the bottom of her heart for having helped and saved those two. Even her body language (the position of her hands) portrays that. And excuse me, but I A B S O L U T E L Y loved how CLAMP clarified once and for all, addressing directly the complaints of their own fandom, that Sakura wasn't forcingly dragged into a matter that wasn't related to her. Everything she did, she decided to do it because she felt it touched her personally. From the moment she became Akiho's friend and came to care for her, everything that happened and everything that she was involved with was related to her too. This wasn't "somebody else's business" anymore. Because Akiho is one of her most beloved friends, no matter how "fast" that happened. Some relationships bloom almost immediately, because the connection is just that strong. And so, this turned into just another expression of "your happiness is my happiness", with Sakura acting according to what her heart suggested. As Kaito is Akiho's most beloved person, Sakura couldn't help but care for him too, because doing so would've made her friend happy, in a wonderful "circulation of love".

Special mention for the scene with pregnant Lilie, oh my god I didn't really expect this either. How long ago I wrote that Tumblr post about cosmos flowers and the origin of Akiho's name? A couple of weeks ago? It's like CLAMP answered my curiosity, with this scene. I still keep my interpretation in my heart, but I also love the logic "it is a flower that keeps the same name in many countries". Of course. "Wherever you'll go, you'll always be your unique self". (And now I want to cry, mama's heart is so big😭) The way Lilie keeps her hands over her womb made me tear up. The ring isn't there anymore, a sign that she probably already gave it to Momo (understandably, since once Akiho would be born, she wouldn't really have much time left). The baby bump isn't that noticeable, probably because she's at the beginning of her pregnancy. Who knows if she kept seeing little Kaito while she was pregnant. 🥲Who knows if in the scene where she's telling him about how wonderful it is to have something you love, especially a person, she was already pregnant with Akiho. 🥲

Momo and Sakura's final words made me understand that Momo cannot go back to Akiho and Kaito till the circumstances and the moment is right. Whether it depends on Akiho's wish, or the right cosmic arrangement, it's surely not in the short term. Especially considering the limited scope of Momo's agency. It cannot come from Momo (unless she pays a huge price), it needs to come from them, strongly enough. I also want to think that, again as an acquired mother figure, Momo wants those two to find their own way, identity and figure out their relationship on their own, without her interference. I'm sure she's keeping an eye on them from faraway, though. 🥲Even though this still feels bittersweet because I wanted to see them reuniting in canon so badly, it gave me lots of hope for the future. Momo is just waiting for the right moment, and she'll be ready to embrace them when the time is right. Maybe, who knows, we'll see that reunion in another series or in a special publication in the future?

The End

And then....the final scene 🥲NOW it is finally clear what Ohkawa meant in that one Twitter Space, when she mentioned that there was a reason why they never featured Sakura's birthday!!! THEY NEEDED TO KEEP THE EXCLUSIVITY FOR THIS!! 😂 I'm so glad they did, really...it's so sweet to see her reaching 14 years old (the "standard age" of many shoujo heroines! 😂) and seeing Syaoran giving her a present, with that strikingly sweet smile full of love...but most importantly....the breathtaking final double spread 🥲🥲🥲🥲 The way she pulls his hand close to her chest, to her heart, while saying that Syaoran will be forever and ever her most important and special person.....really, this chapter is meant to k*ll us all with feels!🥲and I love how CLAMP keep finding ways to portray their physical displays of affection without resorting to the classic, most wanted (but also probably considered not appropriate yet) "kiss". The very final page is a direct parallel of a page from chapter one, where Sakura was going to school alone and looked back down the street to admire the cherry blossoms in full bloom.

Now, she's not alone anymore, but actually hugging the love of her life on her special day! Really, what a wonderful and fulfilling way to give the final touch to this amazing story! 🥲 Her very last line also contributed to this. Sakura leaves us again, 24 years after the first ending, with words of positivity for the future, and love for her important people. This wraps everything up nicely, but it still keeps things quite "open-ended", hopefully in the eventuality to return to this wonderful series in the future. Sakura is growing up, as CLAMP wished, and it might be possible to see her dealing with more "grown-up" situations, magic and non-magic wise. But one thing is for sure, her relationship with her loved ones will always take top priority. ❤️

Well well well, we came to the end of this looooooong commentary for this special chapter too. I can't help but thank once again all of you who followed my posts all these years, and commented with your POVs on the story.

As I've said multiple times, Cardcaptor Sakura gave me so much ever since I was a kid, and this sequel was no exception. This special chapter, in particular, overflowed with things I wanted to see, and I'm sure I'm not the only one thinking so. I once again want to congratulate CLAMP for wrapping everything up nicely, and thank them from the bottom of my heart for these almost 8 years of emotional journey. 🙏

See you around with my other tumblr posts, and let's look forward to the release of volume 16 on April 1st, and hopefully, news about the anime sequel of Clear Card!!

#cardcaptor sakura #card captor sakura #clear card arc #ccsakura #ccs spoilers #sakura kinomoto #syaoran li #akiho shinomoto #yuna d. kaito #syaosaku #yunaaki #special chapter #translation differences #how come this post is so freaking long even without translation differences?#well dammit I had A LOT TO SAY #and even some itches to scratch #aaaah the satisfaction #😊so happy

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bucky-barnes-diaries · 6 months

Text

Day 4 — Christmas Decorations

Pairing || TFATWS!Bucky x Female!Reader

Word Count || Around 600

Contents & Warnings || Fluff, mild Smut — mild explicit content, light spanking.

Disclaimer || English is not my first language so I apologise for any mistakes or misunderstandings!

Advent Calendar 2023

Snow fell gently outside, creating a serene winter wonderland. The outside world embraced the quiet of the night, while inside, your shared home with Bucky was a scene of Christmas chaos filled with smiles and laughter.

After proudly setting up your freshly cut Christmas tree in your living room, you and Bucky embarked on a mission to decorate it with festive magic, creating remarkable and funny memories along the way.

While you were debating the color scheme for this year’s ornaments, your Super Soldier was in an intense wrestling match with the fairy lights.

“So I’m thinking red and green this year, babe. Keep it classic, you know,” you suggested.

“Yeah, that sounds great, doll. Can you… uh… help me, please?” He sounded from the other side of the tree.

Amused, you couldn’t help but burst out laughing at the sight of Bucky tangled up in the lights, resembling your very own Christmas tree.

“I’m not even gonna ask how,” you chuckled while Bucky scowled.

Before helping him untangle, you snapped a quick pic on your phone.

“You’re never gonna let me live this down, are you?” He questioned with a sigh.

“Never.”

With determined laughter, the two of you freed him from the lights, bringing order to the Christmas chaos. Together, you got all the lights untangled and wrapped around the tree where it belonged.

As the twinkling lights adorned the tree, you went to work strategically placing red and green spheres, spacing them evenly, along with personal ornaments and unique details.

“And the last piece.” Bucky held the shiny star in his hands. “Will you do the honor, doll?”

Cradling the delicate star, it glittered with memories of past Christmases with your loved one.

As you stood on a chair with Bucky’s steadying hands on your hips, you situated the star on the tree’s crown, completing it. The room seemed to hold its breath, acknowledging the significance of the moment.

“It’s perfect,” you declared, and Bucky, wrapping his arms around you, whispered, “It was already perfect to begin with because you’re here, doll.”

Turning in his arms, a tender smile on your lips, you reached up to cup his cheeks. Bucky closed the distance with a soft, lingering kiss.

Breaking the kiss with a smile, Bucky’s eyes reflected the glow of the lights. “I think that added another perfect touch to this place,” he murmured, melting you inside out. His fingers traced a gentle patch along your cheek.

“You need to stop wooing me, mister, or else we’ll never finish decorating this house,” you laughed, playfully pushing him away.

After stealing another searing kiss, a taste and promise of what’s to come later, you continued decorating your home with gusto—bells, reindeer, candles, candy canes, garlands, wreaths, stockings, and figurines. Amidst the decorating, there were sweet kisses and soft touches stolen.

As you positioned the standing Mr. and Mrs. Claus in the foyer, Bucky couldn’t resist a playful swat on your ass. “This house isn’t the only thing getting decorated tonight,” he teased with a wink, lightly tapping your ass again.

Giving him a playful glare, you smirked. “Behave, Santa,” you purred, bumping him away with your hip.

By the time you finished, the house was a festive haven. Collapsing on the couch, surrounded by the warm glow of the tree, you cuddled into Bucky with a content sigh, savoring the afterglow of your decorating adventure.

“This is our masterpiece,” you declared, snuggling further into him.

“This is perfect, doll,” Bucky murmured against your skin, kissing your temple.

“And now,” Bucky laid you down, getting on top, “onto another type of decorating,” he groaned before showering you with hungry and determined kisses.

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flowerandblood · 1 year

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Take me with you (Oneshot)

[ Hades • Aemond x Persephone • female ]

[warnings: sex content, smut, sexual tension, fluff]

[description: The god of the underworld watches his chosen one from afar, unable to get close to her. One night, he spots her alone, bathing in the lake, and decides to join her.]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

______

She knew he was watching her. She could feel it in the sudden chill breeze. Hear in the rustle of terrified leaves and flowers. See in the flickering shadow in the distance. He couldn't stop himself.

He couldn't approach her. His steps would destroy all her efforts. Any flowers under his feet, born from the touch of her hand, would wither.

He watched her from a distance, from the darkness of the forest, never going out to meet her. When he appeared, he saw from a distance how she turned her gaze quickly to him, her beautiful eyebrows furrowed with concern.

Her nymphs laughed around her, dressing her in her robes every day, combing her shiny, long hair, did not even turn around, not noticing the threat. They were weaving a wreath of field flowers, which they then crowned her head with.

At night, he watched from a distance as they bathed in the lake. As night fell, his movements were no longer bound by anything, but not wanting to scare them, he did not approach them. He watched their dancing silhouettes, shimmering against the surface of the water from afar.

One night he saw her alone. He stared at her, amazed, for she never went anywhere without her trusted confidantes. He pressed his lips painfully tight, as he saw her slender hands undoing her white, embroidered, delicate robes. Their fabric fell lightly on the grass, as her feet seared her toward the edge of the lake.

In the light of the moon and stars, her body shone with divine radiance even more than usual. She sank down to her shoulders, washing her delicate hands, her long fingers running softly over her body.

He stood up, his slow steps rustling softly in the thicket of grass. He was heading towards the wrist, his hand, with a light movement, unraveled the binding of his black, matte robe. He saw her look at him, her full, swollen lips parted slightly. In her eyes, shining like precious crystals, he saw fear and something else, that made his exposed body shiver.

She turned her back on him when he was completely naked, covered herself with her arms, as she heard the splash of water. He heard her inhale deeply, as his hands wrapped around her from behind gently, solemnly, devotedly. She shivered, as his cold chest pressed against her back, his hard manhood pressing against her hot skin, pulsing steadily.

She closed her eyes and flinched, as his fingers gently pushed back strands of her hair, exposing her neck to him. His cold, corpselike mouth bent over, placing subtle, soft, wet kisses on her. She sighed softly, her head leaning back against his shoulder.

He exhaled loudly as her warm, soft hand brushed over his scarred cheek, a reminder of his skirmish with his brother in the heavens, before pushing him into the Abyss. His large, rough hand cupped her soft, full breast carefully, caressing her nipple with his thumb, teasing her steadily. He smirked to himself as he heard her soft moan.

"I will give you pleasure, if you only desire." He whispered in her ear, and she shivered all over, her mouth parting wider in a ragged breath.

She looked at him, her eyes hazy, dreamy, uncertain. Her fingers continued to trace his face, his skin millimeters apart. She brushed her nose against his cheek. He parted his lips slightly, leaning over her. He traced them over her face, leaving wet marks, her lips parted lustfully, hot and full of anticipation.

His lips finally brushed hers, and they both sighed. They kissed slowly, with a wet, loud sound each time they broke apart. His hand teased her nipple steadily, hard and jutting with desire. His free hand moved lower, between her thighs. She shuddered, taking his hand in hers, stopping him gently. He broke the kiss by leaning over to her ear.

"Do not be afraid. I will not cause you pain." He whispered, brushing his lips against her cheek. Her chest heaved uneasily, her hand slowly loosening its grip.

His hand slid lower, his fingers meeting her warm, wet, throbbing womanhood. He began to massage her gently, in circular, slow motions, his lips finding hers again as she moaned so sweetly. Her hips began to move to the rhythm of his hand, their quiet panting and the sound of the water around them.

He felt her slender, pale body arch in pleasure as he slid his finger inside her. She was incredibly tight, wet and hot, her walls clenching against him hungrily. She kissed him chaotically, moaning softly, her lips moist from their kisses, her whole body trembling under his touch, feeling the impending fulfillment.

He pulled away from her abruptly, sliding his finger out of her, meeting her surprised, elderly gaze. He turned her to face him and grabbed her hips, lifting her up with a splash of water. He moved towards the shore, kissing her reassuringly, feeling her whole body tremble. She touched his face, looking at him with her warm, misty eyes from desire.

He laid her down on the grass beneath him, leaning over her, drops of water from his hair falling on her body like tiny diamonds. She stared at him, her hands spread at the sides of her head, her mouth deliciously parted in ragged breaths. He gently took her thighs in his hands and spread them out in front of him as if tearing a ripe fruit in two.

She looked at him pleadingly as he began to wipe his thick, engorged manhood in her juices. She sobbed as the tip of it pressed against her entrance, his fingers gently parting her skin sideways.

"Shh. We'll take it slow." He whispered, teasing her with gentle movements of his hips, Her walls clenched against him, he was barely able to put it inside her.

"It's too big." She wept, throwing her head to the side, her body arching as he pushed it deeper, closing his eyes with a loud gasp, feeling her fleshy, moist core.

"Just a little more, sweetest flower." He whispered tenderly, as he slid out again and thrust deep into her, all the way to the end, both of them leaning back with a groan. He looked at her with his lips parted in uneven breath, her whole body trembling under him, her walls clenching against him in panic.

"Look at you. How wonderfully you take me." He purred, looking at her, not moving for a moment, letting her calm down.

Until he saw her for the first time, he had never desired anyone. He could barely contain himself now, hearing her soft sigh.

He began to move slowly inside her with a quiet clicks of her moisture, a wave of heat went through them both, and they began to pant. His hands gripped hers, intertwining their fingers, his hips rocked inside her in a slow, steady rhythm, rubbing her where his finger had touched her before.

He sped up as she moaned sweetly beneath him, he was delighted to feel her hips begin to meet his movements, their naked bodies glistening in the moonlight slamming into each other with a loud, wet slaps. Both of them gasped loudly, as they stared at each other with their mouths parted wide, their bodies heaving under each other, her hot, moist, tight insides giving him a pleasure he had never experienced before.

"Do you want me to stop? Do you want me to take it out of you?" He asked in a trembling voice, looking at her wonderful, soft body glistening with sweat, his cock thrusting into her loudly, spreading her wide again and again. Her lips parted, her cheeks flushed red in embarrassment, she tightened her fingers on their intertwined hands.

"No, I beg you, harder." She whimpered. He took his hands away, grabbed her hips and began to root into her with all his strenght, panting loudly in response to her moans, he covered her mouth, muffling those wonderful sounds.

"We wouldn't want anyone to hear us, would we? We wouldn't want to interrupt this pleasure." He hissed, his thighs hitting against her buttocks with loud slaps, thrusting his aching erection into her, throbbing with arousal. His lover moaned loudly beneath him, his hand muffling everything that came out of her mouth.

He came hard inside her, throwing his head back, panting heavily, feeling the waves of her orgasm coursing through her body. Her insides clenched against him with tremendous force, squeezing his seed from his manhood into her hot core.

He removed his hand from her face, looking at her, both of them gasping loudly, as he rocked his hips inside her for a moment longer, unable to deny himself this pleasure. She looked at him dreamily, her lips parted in indescribable, sweet delight.

"Take me with you."

______

I got the idea for this story when my husband and I were in one of the museums and we saw a lot of beautiful paintings with nymphs and goddesses. The two photos at the top of the post are from that museum. We are both artists and we were impressed with how delicately they were painted! As always, leave a comment if you liked it! 💖

@zenka69 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff

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candycandy00 · 7 months

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The Scarecrow Walks at Night - A Shigaraki x Reader Halloween Fanfic

You spend Halloween night alone at your grandparents’ farm, but there’s something strange about the scarecrow you’ve always felt a connection to.

Part of the League of Villains Halloween Horror Anthology! Featuring Shigaraki as a scarecrow!

Smut. 18+. Horror (the creepy kind not the gory kind). Mild blood. Fem Reader.

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

On your way back from a concert you just attended several states away, you decide to stop and spend the night at your grandparents’ farm. You thought it would be fun to drive to the concert instead of flying, make a solo road trip of it and stop here and there along the way, seeing the sights.

Turns out there aren’t that many sights to see in rural farm country. So you decided to just drive straight home after the concert, but you’ve been getting drowsy and decide you need to stop somewhere today and rest. That’s when you remember the farm your grandparents live on, just a thirty minute drive out of your way, sitting at just about the halfway point between the concert venue and home. It’s the perfect place to rest, and you just know your grandparents will be thrilled to see you.

As a child, you visited the farm often, spending many summers there. But when you were around nine years old, your parents stopped taking you to the farm. Something about your grandparents buying an RV and looking for any excuse to travel, so they came to visit you and your parents instead of the other way around. You missed playing on the farm, feeding the animals, running through the massive cornfield. But over the years your memories of the farm faded, until your time there was more like half forgotten dreams.

Still, you had GPS, and when the signal cut out on your phone due to the unreliable rural cell service, you had your hazy memories to guide you to the farm.

It was hard to miss actually, being large and having a beautiful big white farm house, a bright red barn, and various other structures like tool sheds, storage buildings, and things of that nature. All things you suddenly remember playing around or in as you pull into the driveway.

You immediately notice that there are no vehicles in sight. You know they still own an SUV and an old pickup truck aside from the RV, but none of them are parked nearby. You tried to call them a couple of times before you lost service, but couldn’t get through to them. They were old fashioned though, and disliked cell phones. If they were not home, chances are you’d never get ahold of them.

After getting out of your car, you walk to the front door and knock. No answer comes. The whole house is silent. In the distance you hear chickens clucking, but no other noise. With a disappointed sigh, you walk over to a free standing garage your grandpa had built way before you were born. There’s a crack between the heavy wooden doors big enough for you to peek inside. You can see the SUV and the pickup, but no RV. They must be out traveling somewhere.

You’re about to give up and go find a motel in town when an idea strikes you. When you were a child, you remember your grandparents leaving a house key under some stones in the front yard. You jog over and search, easily finding a shiny metal key. It was amazing how many memories were coming back to you now that you were here.

You step back onto the front porch and use the key on the door. You know your sweet, easy going grandparents wouldn’t mind you staying at their house even if they aren’t home.

As you open the door, you notice a homemade wreath decorated in orange and black colors, a plastic pumpkin glued to it. You’d almost forgotten that today is Halloween!

After carrying in your overnight bag and looking around the house a bit, you walk back outside. There’s something you need to see before it gets dark out.

You walk through the cornfield, the path feeling familiar to you, almost like second nature. Yes, you remember now. How could you have ever forgotten? You walked this same path so many times as a child, walking it now is like muscle memory.

Finally, toward the end of the cornfield, close to the edge of the property, you find it.

“I’m back, Tomura,” you say, looking up. “Did you miss me?”

High above you, affixed to a wooden stake, is a scarecrow. He’s dressed in faded denim pants and a red and black flannel shirt that is in surprisingly good shape. On his head sits an old hat, long scraggly corn silks hanging out from under it serving as his hair. Two red-colored stones function as his eyes. As always, he seems to be looking right at you.

While there are many scarecrows on the property, this one is special to you. Even as a child, you were drawn to it. You came out here to play every day, and you pretended he was your “boyfriend”. Which meant you had tea parties with him and imagined him dancing with you at Cinderella-style balls. Most of all, you just talked to him. You told him everything, every mundane detail of your day, every secret, every fear. And somehow, it felt like he was listening.

Some local kids who came over to play with you occasionally told you his name was Tomura, and you never forgot it. You almost forgot the scarecrow himself, but not that name. It was burned into your mind.

They told you other things about him too. Things that made you cry. What was it again? Something about Tomura once being a real young man. Ah, the memories were coming back more clearly now.

It was the kind of silly story kids make up to scare each other. They told you that long ago, way before your grandparents owned the farm, Tomura lived there with his family. When he became an adult, he wanted to leave the farm and move to the city. But his abusive father wouldn’t accept that, and as punishment, Tomura was tied to the stake like a living scarecrow and left in the cornfield. It was just supposed to be an unpleasant afternoon, but something went wrong, and Tomura died out there.

For some reason, his corpse was left tied to the stake, and exactly one year later, on Halloween night, Tomura came back to life and slaughtered his entire family in his madness.

But that’s not the part that bothered you. No, you were crying over the cruelty of his father, the sadness Tomura must have felt. As a child, you ran to the scarecrow and hugged his feet, sobbing out apologies for what had been done to him. Around that time your grandparents told you to stop playing with the scarecrow, apparently worried that you were growing too attached to the thing. Come to think of it, that was the last summer you spent with them.

There was another part to the story the kids told you, a part that did actually frighten you, but you can’t remember what it was. As you gaze up at the scarecrow, you wonder if that memory will return while you’re here.

When you were here last, you could barely reach his feet, but now you’re tall enough to reach his waist. You step closer to him, feeling oddly shy before giggling to yourself. He’s just a scarecrow. It was just a dumb story. You find yourself wrapping your arms around him, giving him the hug you couldn’t quite manage before.

Looking up into those red “eyes”, you smile at him. “I don’t know if you remember me,” you say, feeling a little foolish for talking to him but also feeling the need to say this, “but I came here a lot when I was little. I played here, talking to you and pretending we were friends. I know you couldn’t talk back, but I always felt like you heard me. Thanks for that. You made my childhood a little less lonely.”

You release his straw body and back away. “I’m sorry it’s been so long since I came to see you. I’ll be here tonight and a little while tomorrow. I’ll come say goodbye before I leave.”

Blushing slightly at your own silliness, you walk back into the cornfield, toward the house. You feel a little better now that you’ve gotten that off your chest. You knew he couldn’t actually hear you. He was an inanimate object after all. But you said those words for yourself, not him.

You feel your phone vibrate in your pocket just a few feet into the corn. You check it to see that you have two bars of signal out here. You make sure there are no important messages or missed calls, no contact from your grandparents, before going back to the house.

The sun is setting as you step onto the porch, and you take a moment to appreciate the view of the lovely pink sky over the farm before going inside.

Over the next hour, you make yourself comfortable. You shower and change into comfy little knit shorts and tank top, what you use as pajamas, and help yourself to some snacks in the kitchen before curling up in front of their surprisingly impressive tv to watch a movie. Being Halloween night, most channels are having horror movie marathons, so you settle on part eight of a random horror franchise. It’s a movie you saw when you were a teenager, but you’ve forgotten most of the “plot” by now.

Only twenty minutes into the film, you hear a knocking at the front door. Your first thought is that it’s your grandparents, but then you quickly remind yourself that they wouldn’t knock on their own door. So who could it be? Trick or treaters? Possible, but this house is practically in the middle of nowhere. Maybe your grandparents are known for giving out great candy? If so, these kids are going to be disappointed.

You grab the Little Debbie cake and small bag of chips you’d laid out for yourself and head to the door. When you open it, no one is there. You sit the snacks on a nearby table and step out onto the porch.

“Hello?” you ask, rubbing your bare arms with your hands. You didn’t realize the nights were so chilly here in the fall. The porch light is glowing bright yellow above your head, and you get the distinct impression that someone is looking at you, watching you. It suddenly feels like you’re under a spotlight as you gaze out over the inky black darkness of the farm, only broken up by a couple of lights situated near the tool shed and the garage.

Mildly creeped out, you hurry back inside, making sure to lock the door.

You return to the movie, having apparently not missed much. As the minutes pass by, you begin to relax again, figuring you were probably just mistaken when you thought you heard the knocking. This is an old house that you’re not overly familiar with. Of course it’s going to make creepy sounds occasionally.

Just as your eyes begin to slide closed, drowsiness overtaking you, the knocking comes again. This time louder, more frantic. You practically jump off the couch in alarm. You stand there for a moment, listening, your heart beating wildly. This is not your imagination. This is definitely not just the sounds of an old house settling. This is literal banging! And it won’t stop.

You mind races. Could this be trick or treaters? Doubtful. The banging certainly doesn’t sound like it’s coming from children. A Halloween prank then? Perhaps some local teens spotted your car in the driveway and decided to have a little fun with you?

As the banging intensifies, you can’t help considering the darker possibilities. Maybe someone had planned to break into your grandparents’ house while they were away and now you’re just an unexpected obstacle they would have to deal with. Or maybe it’s a serial killer on the prowl? Or hell, maybe the house is fucking haunted.

You slowly step closer to the door, and when you’re just a few feet away, you scream out, “What do you want?”

The banging immediately stops. You stare at the door, disappointed that it’s an old wooden type that has no peephole or windows. You don’t hear a response. You don’t hear anything. No voices, no footsteps walking off the creaky wooden porch. So are they still there? Just waiting on the other side of the door?

“I have a gun!” you shout. “If you try to come inside, I’ll blow your fucking brains out! I don’t care who you are!”

You listen for any sort of reaction, but hear nothing. You creep closer to the door, trying to hear footsteps, hoping to hear them leaving. Just as you get close enough to press your ear to the door, something on the other side bangs against it loudly, making the wood tremble on the hinges. You scream and leap back.

That’s it. You’re not putting up with this any longer! You run over to the landline phone in the kitchen and pick it up to call the police, but to your horror, there’s no dial tone. You check two more phones in the house, but get the same results. Did the person outside cut the phone line? Or had your grandparents been off traveling for so long that they didn’t bother paying their phone bill? Either way, you’re fucked.

You check your cell phone just in case, hoping for a miracle, but there’s no service.

Suddenly you remember something, more of that story the kids told you all those years ago. Something happens every year on Halloween night, that’s what they said. But what was it? You try to force yourself to remember the rest, but you just can’t. Anyway, it was just a dumb kids’ story. You have more important things to deal with, like the banging on the front door that just won’t stop.

All you want to do is run to your car and drive away from here, but you’re too scared to go outside. Also, you’re parked close to the front porch, which is exactly where the threat is.

“Go away!” you scream through the door. “I called the police! They’ll be here any minute!”

The banging suddenly stops again. Did your bluff work? You creep closer to the door again, cautiously. Then you hear it, the sound of footsteps! The porch floorboards creak and groan as someone makes their way across it, slowly and steadily. Then it sounds like they’re going down the steps.

You run to the living room and try to peep out the window without being seen, but you only catch a quick glimpse of a shadow going around the corner of the house, toward the back.

Is the back door locked? You never checked it after you got here, but surely your grandparents left it locked. Then again, this was exactly the sort of place where people would feel safe leaving their doors unlocked.

You make a mad dash for the back door, running through the living room, kitchen, and laundry room to find the brown wooden door.

It’s unlocked!

Just as you reach for it, there’s a sudden banging on the wood, making you jump back in terror. You’re too late! You back away from the door, waiting for it to open and reveal some dangerous figure ready to kill you.

But it doesn’t open. The knob never even turns. Are they not even going to check to see if it’s locked? The banging stops then, and is replaced by another sound. Scraping. Like metal on wood. Like a blade scratching the door.

What the hell is going on?! If they’re not coming in, are they actually just trying to terrify you? Is it a Halloween prank after all? Or is it a killer who just wants to toy with you for a while first? The fact that they’re still here after your bluffs about the gun and the police suggests they aren’t just pranksters.

But… something else occurs to you. If they’re back here, then they’re not on the front porch. Which means you could possibly make it to your car! There’s a risk involved. If there’s more than one person out there, one of them could be waiting to ambush you. Or the person could run around to the front before you make it to your car. But the risk of staying put is even greater. Whoever is out there could come in at any moment. Even if the back door was locked, there were several windows that could easily be broken and climbed through.

With no time to give it any more thought, you make a split decision. You dash through the kitchen, grabbing a knife from the wooden knife block on the counter as you go, then to the living room where you grab your keys and your phone. You cram the phone into your bra, having no pockets in the tiny, thin pajama shorts you’re wearing, then you unlock the front door and fling it open.

Thankfully, there’s no one on the other side, and no one on the porch when you step outside. With the coast clear, you run straight for your car and throw yourself into the driver’s seat. You stick the keys in the ignition, still clutching the knife in one trembling hand. You turn the key, and you hear the engine begin to start, and then… nothing. It dies. You turn the key again, but the car still won’t start. You try several more times, growing more panicked and frantic with each attempt. Screaming in frustration and slapping the steering wheel, you accidentally cut your own hand with the knife.

“Shit!” You wipe the blood off on your white tank top and jump out of the car, popping the hood at the same time. You know nothing about cars, but you feel like you should check anyway. When you look under the hood, you feel your stomach drop to your feet.

The engine is completely demolished. It looks like someone took a large blunt object and just… wrecked it. Destroyed it. You close the hood and look toward the house. Do you have time to make it back inside and lock the front door? What if the person outside the back door finally tried to open it and is now hiding in the house?

While you’re still debating with yourself on what to do, you see movement coming from the side of the house. Someone is coming! You want to see who it is, but you don’t want to be discovered out here. You had the good sense to shut the front door, so it might take them a while to realize you’re no longer in there.

You dart into the cornfield, using it as cover. You try to look through the stalks, but you can’t see the person clearly. You can only make out what looks like a red shirt, and some sort of long, shiny weapon.

Suddenly you remember that your phone got a couple bars of service earlier today when you were close to the end of the field, near Tomura. Deciding this is your best shot at getting help, you run through the corn as fast as you can.

It takes several minutes for you to reach the end of the field, and you’ve already got your phone out, checking for bars, staring at the brightly lit screen in the darkness. When you reach Tomura, you’re focused on your phone, but there’s still no service. When you finally glance up, you realize something is wrong. You step back and tilt your phone up, using its light to see.

The stake is empty. Tomura, the scarecrow, is gone.

The confusion is so strong that it briefly overrides your fear. Did someone steal him? For what purpose?

And then, like puzzle pieces fitting together, you remember the rest of the story those kids told you so long ago.

“Every year, on Halloween night, Tomura comes back to life. He climbs down from his stake and stalks the farm, killing everyone he finds!”

You stare at the empty stake, trying to convince yourself that it was just a story, that someone is pulling a very elaborate prank on you. But somehow, in that moment, you know the truth. You sense it. Tomura had been outside those doors. Tomura had destroyed your car. And Tomura was going to kill you.

The vibration of your phone startles you, causing you to yelp in fear. You look at the screen one bar! Praying it’s enough, you quickly begin dialing 911, but the bar disappears before you can finish.

“No!” you hiss at your phone, trying to walk around to different spots to get more service.

You’re so focused on the phone again that you bump into something in the darkness. You freeze, swallowing and slowly turning the phone’s screen around to illuminate what your body is currently pressed against.

A red and black flannel shirt. You scream and jump back, realizing that Tomura is right in front of you, narrowly avoiding the blade of an enormous reef hook that he’s swinging at you. In the chaos and the dark, you don’t see his face clearly, but you know it’s him. He swings the reef hook again, then a third time, each time barely missing you as you shriek and dodge.

“Please stop, Tomura!” you cry, still holding the knife in your hand but unable to get close enough to use it.

He freezes mid swing, the weapon held high above his head. The shiny metal blade seems to quiver for a moment as you scramble to back away, but then he swings it down. You try to jerk out of the way, but it swipes your shoulder, severing the strap of your tank top and leaving a thin, bloody slice in your skin. You cry out in pain and clutch the wound. It’s not very deep, but it hurts, and blood is leaking out around your fingers.

Again, Tomura seems to freeze in place. This time you manage to run back into the cornfield, turning off your phone so the light doesn’t give you away. You run and run, not even sure which direction you’re going in. Are you going back to the house? Or somewhere else? Where even is the nearest neighbor?

When you finally break free of the corn, you find yourself in front of the old barn. It hadn’t been used in years even when you used to visit as a child, so you’d often played in it. You remember being scolded for climbing into the hayloft. With precious few options, you decide to try hiding inside it.

The barn smells a bit musty, but not too bad otherwise. Your grandparents were sticklers for maintenance, even on old buildings they no longer used. You find a corner, behind some hay stacks, and hide there, trying to be as silent as possible.

If the story those kids told you is true, and it’s certainly looking that way at this point, then Tomura only has Halloween night to roam about. So when morning comes, he’ll have to return to the stake. You look at your phone. It’s not quite ten yet! You don’t know if you’ll be able to evade Tomura until sunrise.

Sitting here hiding, you finally have a moment to think about what’s happening. Tomura is alive. He’s a scarecrow, but he’s alive! But his body didn’t feel like straw when you bumped into him in the cornfield just now. It felt more solid than that. Almost like a real human body.

Regardless, he is trying to kill you, and that thought pains you even more than it scares you. Why is he doing this? You’ve always felt a connection to him, an affection for him. Did he hate you all along? Or does he simply kill whoever he sees on Halloween night, no matter who they are? Maybe he doesn’t even recognize you. Maybe he doesn’t even have an actual consciousness, but is just a killing machine. Every possibility seems sadder than the last.

Your thoughts are interrupted when you hear the door to the barn swing open. You clamp your hand over your mouth to muffle your breathing, and try to sink closer to the ground, to blend in with the darkness and the hay.

You hear footsteps walking through the barn, stacks of hay being tossed aside. He’s searching for you! This is a bad idea. You need to get out of the barn, try to get to another house, maybe even flag someone down on the road. Before he gets any closer, you jump out of your hiding spot and run toward the back door of the barn. He sees you, of course, and you hear the footsteps running behind you. But you’re close to the door. You can make it! You can disappear into the cornfield again and-

It’s locked. Just as you reach the back door of the barn, you realize it’s locked up with a chain and padlock. You let out a frustrated whine and turn around just as the reef hook swings toward you. Ducking to avoid it, you run to the side, where you find a ladder to the hayloft. You know climbing up there is a terrible idea, that you’ll just be trapped up there, but at the moment, it’s the only path open to you. Maybe you’ll get lucky and be able to push him off the edge.

So you climb, and you feel a strangely warm hand grab at your bare thigh. That’s definitely not straw! You jerk away, shaking off his grip as you climb further up, finally reaching the hayloft and then backing away from the ladder, watching him climb up after you, his weapon’s handle stuck in the waistband of his jeans.

Once he’s up here with you, he walks slowly toward you, and when he steps into a beam of moonlight shining in through a small window in the barn, you finally see his face.

Oh. He’s not a scarecrow at all. Not anymore. Standing before you is a totally alive human man. Young, early twenties you’d guess, with long silver hair that looks almost blue in the moonlight. He’s pale, with a few small but noticeable scars on his face, and striking red eyes that are staring at you as he gets closer.

He’s beautiful. He’s everything you imagined all those years ago, when you dreamed of him being a “real boy”.

You back away, almost in a daze, and end up tripping on some hay and falling to the floor. You manage to get to your knees, but by this point he’s reached you, looming over you with his weapon gripped in both hands. You’re a mess at this point. There’s blood all over your tank top, cuts on your hand and your shoulder that are still bleeding, one strap of your top sliced through and hanging low, almost exposing your breast, your shorts ripped.

You look up at him, knowing there’s no escape, deciding to at least die seeing your precious Tomura alive and real. He lifts the reef hook over his head, still staring down at you, and all you can say is one word.

“Tomura…”

He falters. The reef hook trembles in his grip. “Why are you here?!” he screams, his voice strained, his face twisting in pain. “Why would you come here, tonight of all nights?! Any other day… any other night… and I would have been so happy to see you…”

“What are you talking about?” you ask, totally confused.

He growls in frustration, the weapon still shaking in his hands. You get to your feet. The knife from the kitchen is still in your hand. Right now, you could stab him. You’re close enough. But that’s not what you want to do. Instead, you do the one thing you’ve always wanted to do, since you were a little girl.

You hug him.

The weapon slips from his hands and lands with a dull thud on the hay strewn floor as you hear him make a faint gasping sound.

“Please talk to me, Tomura,” you say. “I can finally hear your voice. So please just tell me what’s going on.”

“It’s Halloween night!” he yells, his arms dropping to his sides, not touching you. “Don’t you know? It’s the one night a year my body is restored! And I… I can’t control myself… all I can feel is rage and hate and… I just want to kill, to destroy… that’s the only way I can feel alive!”

He stops for a moment, and you can hear him breathing, feel his heart beating in his chest. He truly is alive!

“Every year, your grandparents leave the farm on Halloween,” he says, his voice a bit calmer now. “I haven’t killed anyone in years, and all this bloodlust I feel has been building and building… and then you show up. You! The one person I never wanted to hurt!”

You look up at him. “You recognize me?”

“Of course I do! For years you were the only person who talked to me! I knew you the moment you came to see me today in the field, even if you’re grown up now.”

His red eyes seem to sweep down over your figure, and you feel heat in your face. “Wait… does that mean you’re conscious when you’re a scarecrow?”

“Yeah. I’m aware of everything that goes on around me.”

Now you’re really embarrassed. All that time you were talking to him, he really was listening! But you can’t dwell on it for long. He pushes you away from him suddenly.

“You need to run. Get off the property. Or get inside the main house. I’m not allowed to go inside it.”

You shake your head. “No, Tomura, I don’t want to leave you out here. I dreamed of you being real, being alive, all my life. I want to stay with you!”

His beautiful face looks anguished. “I don’t know how long I can keep myself from attacking you! Every inch of my body is screaming to hurt you, to do anything to feel alive!”

You step closer to him again. You thought you felt something when you hugged him before, but you want to be sure. You press yourself against him, and sure enough, you can feel that he’s hard, his erection straining against his pants. You reach down one hand and lightly rub over it. His breath hitches as his eyes widen.

“Maybe there’s another way you can feel alive,” you tell him.

A faint blush spreads over his face. “Is that… something you want?”

You nod. “Do you want it too?”

Without a word, he suddenly kisses you, finally wrapping his arms around you for the first time as his lips press to yours. You breathe out a sigh against his mouth, content to be held by him.

Then his hands are moving over you, a bit clumsily, tugging at your tank top, trying to pull it up. You laugh as you pull back from him. “Have you ever done this before? I mean, before you…”

“Before I died?” he asks, looking a little shy. “Yeah, a few times. It’s been about a hundred years though.”

You slip your tank top off and unhook your bra, letting it fall to the floor while he stares with wide eyes. “It’s okay,” you say as you wrap your arms around his neck, “I’m sure it’ll all come back to you.”

He smiles then, his warm hands sliding down your bare back, stopping to squeeze your ass through your shorts. You kiss him again, this time more deeply, your tongue in his mouth, and then your hands fly to the buttons of his flannel shirt, undoing them as quickly as you can. When he lets you pull his shirt off his shoulders, your eyes rake over his toned body appreciatively. In life, he was a farm boy, and it shows.

His fingers hook into the waistband of your shorts and panties, pulling them both down in one go. You step out of them, then unbutton his jeans. Before you can slide them down his hips, he’s pushing you gently down into the hay, on your back, and climbing on top of you.

You’d been chilly before, but now your whole body feels hot as his half-clothed body grinds against yours, his mouth warm on your neck. One of his hands is gripping your thigh, pulling it up beside him and making it easier for him to position himself between your legs.

His mouth moves down from your neck to your chest, his lips enclosing over one nipple, his tongue darting out to flick it. You moan, your hands in his soft hair. When he slides one hand down to stroke the wet, hot flesh between your thighs, your back arches automatically, your body smashing against his.

You can’t wait any longer. You shove his pants down to his knees, not entirely surprised that he’s not wearing underwear. He was a scarecrow until a few hours ago after all. Even though you know he’s a living breathing human right now, you’re still relieved to see that he has all his parts and they’re in working order.

He begins kissing you again, and when his hand brushes over your shoulder, it grazes your wound, making you wince. He draws back, looking at the cut. “I’m sorry,” he says, sounding hurt, “I was so confused. I wanted to kill you, but at the same time I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you. So I held back, and I hesitated.”

“I’m glad you did,” you say, raising up to kiss him again. “You could’ve taken my head off if you hadn’t held back.”

“I could never…” he murmurs, moving himself against you, rubbing his warm body across your form. You open your legs, giving him easy access, closing your eyes with a moan.

“Tomura… I want you inside me…”

His breathing gets faster, more ragged, as he gets into position, then he gently pushes inside you, slowly filling you up. His mouth finds yours as he slides all the way in, and then begins thrusting into you, carefully at first before picking up speed. When you respond with moans and cries of his name, your arms tight around his neck, he begins thrusting more deeply, more roughly, using your reactions to judge how you want him to move.

He fucks you so well, his body must have remembered exactly how it was done. He’s good, good enough to make you tremble in his arms, clutching him with all your strength as you cum on his cock.

You wrap your legs around him just to steady yourself as he fucks you through your orgasm, and he kisses you, groaning into your mouth as he cums deeply inside you.

The next few hours are precious to you, because you know he’ll go back to being a scarecrow when morning comes. You feel like Cinderella enjoying her last few minutes at the ball.

The two of you sit in the hayloft together, you snuggled up in his flannel shirt, and talk. He tells you about his life before, what really happened to him and his family. His father really had strung him up in the field as punishment, and Tomura really had returned to life one year later and killed his whole family. Aside from his older sister, who had married and moved away from the farm before his death. He seems happy that she was spared, and regretful about killing his mother and grandparents, even though the rage was at its strongest that year.

He doesn’t know why he comes back to life every year, what sort of magic or curse restores his body and drives him to kill. But the biggest surprise is that your grandparents know about him.

“They’re nice. I like them,” he says. “They’re a little scared of me, I think. They tend to stay away from me even when it’s not Halloween. But they put new clothes on me when mine get worn out and they even throw a tarp on me when it’s raining real hard.”

The fact that your grandparents take care of a cursed scarecrow makes you smile. But then a thought occurs to you. “Has anyone tried to destroy you?”

He laughs. It’s the first time you’ve heard it but you like the sound of it. “Some have tried over the years,” he says, “but even when someone burned me up in a fire, a few hours later I was back on my stake like nothing happened.”

Happy to know he’s indestructible, you lean your head on his shoulder as the last bit of time you have together slips by. When the sky begins to lighten outside, the two of you walk into the cornfield and to his stake, hand in hand. When you reach it, you pull off his shirt and help him put it back on before he climbs onto the stake and holds his arms up to the wooden frame.

For a moment, you just watch, but then you climb up onto the stake with him and give him one more kiss. “I’ll come back to see you, I promise,” you tell him.

“I’ll be waiting,” he says back, and then his head droops as rays of sunshine spread across the farm. In an instant, he’s no longer flesh and blood but made of straw. You hug his now thin body before climbing down from the stake.

****************

It’s Halloween night, one year later, when you park your new car close to your grandparents’ farm house. They’re gone, of course, and despite their misgivings about you being there on Halloween night, they ultimately agreed to let you stay there.

You’ve been back to the farm several times over this past year just to visit Tomura and talk to him. But today is special. In just a couple of hours, he would come to life and be able to speak to you, touch you, hold you.

You walk through the field until you reach Tomura. Knowing now that he can hear and see you, a smile spreads over your lips.

“I’m back, Tomura. I’m really excited about tonight. You are too, right?” you ask, standing at a perfect distance for him to see the cute outfit you wore just for him. You reach down and take hold of the hem of your flowy skirt, then slide the fabric up your thighs, revealing your black lace panties.

You know it must be your imagination, but you could swear his red stone “eyes” are shining. You laugh and drop your skirt back down. “Just a little preview of what’s waiting for you in the barn tonight,” you say, giving him a sensuous smile before walking back into the field. As you disappear into the corn, you call out, “Happy Halloween, Tomura!”

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki smut #shigaraki #lovhalloweenhorror #shigaraki x you

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cherrycola27 · 1 year

Text

Red, White, and Rooster

Series Warnings: Language, alcohol consumption. Frenemies to lovers, relationship of convenience. Political situations. Allegations of affairs, military and political inaccuracies. Smut. 18+ Minors DNI. Banner Credit: @thedroneranger Masterlist Previous Part Next Part

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Chapter 12: mirrorball

Tinsel, lights, bows, fake snow, wreaths, ornaments, and trees as far as the eye could see filled the White House and its grounds. You'd gone over holiday decorating plans until you were blue in the face. You never knew decking the halls of the White House could be so stressful. You'd chosen a traditional Christmas decor style with lots of reds and greens and golds. It was classic, with a touch of modern thanks to some LED lights and some sustainably sourced pines and firs.

Everything looked beautiful. It was perfect—it had to be. Because if it wasn't, you were sure that would be the first thing your parents would say.

You always had a love-hate relationship with the holidays. You'd hoped that you and Bradley would be able to spend a quiet Christmas Eve together in pjs, but he insisted that your parents come for a Christmas dinner along with his godfather Maverick and his wife Penny. Jake and Jaycee were also joining you because neither of their families could get a flight out in time.

You paced nervously as you went over your mental checklist one more time. Everything had to be perfect.

You took extra care with getting ready for dinner. It was semi-formal, and your parents wouldn't expect anything less.

You were wearinging a maroon dress with cap sleeves and lace detailed bodice. The dress was tea length with an a-line skirt that slightly flared. You paired it with a classic black pump and your signature low bun. The diamonds Rooster and given you this year accented the dress. You also opted to layer the pearl necklace your parents had given you as a wedding present with your pendant. You weren't fond of pearls, but you knew if you didn't wear it, you'd never hear the end of it.

Bradley could tell you were nervous. When he really thinks about it, he's never seen you like this. Your parents were always a touchy subject. The handful of times he'd met them, they seemed to be focused on your flaws rather than your accomplishments. He's pretty sure the only time he's ever heard them say they were proud of you was at the wedding.

You were touching your makeup up in the mirror when he came behind you to give you a reassuring hug. "It's going to be fine. It won't be just them there." He tried to remind you as he pressed a kiss to your temple.

"Everything has to be perfect." You tell him. "It's okay if it isn't." He says. "No, it isn't. Not all of us had the supportive parental figure growing up Bradley. My parents only really cared when I started getting into debate and politics. And even then, they were only interested if I was winning. Because a win was the only thing they could show off. A shiny, perfect, victorious daughter, that's what they wanted, so that's what I became. That's what I still have to be. That's the only way they'll notice me. That's the only way they'll love me." You whispered the last part before wiping away a stray tear.

"Please make sure Maverick doesn't say anything deeply offensive to my father tonight about Admiral Cain's drone program. My father is on the committee for it. I've already warned him about it as well." You say, changing from doom and gloom to perky at the drop of a hat. It gives Bradley whiplash sometimes when he sees just how fast you can turn your emotions on and off.

"I've already told him, but you know Maverick. He's five foot seven inches of unpredictable rage. I'm sure Penny will keep him under control." Bradley laughs. You roll your eyes before lacing your hands with his. "Let's get this show on the road."

You stood neverously in the foyer, waiting for everyone to arrive. Maverick and Penny got there first, both greeting you with warm hugs and a smile. Jake and Jaycee tumbled in not long after them. Jaycee whispered some words of encouragement as she hugged you. Last to arrive where your parents. Senator and Congressman Wiseman. They weren't late per say, but they made sure to arrive late enough so that their entrance would be noticed.

"Mother, Father, Merry Christmas." You greeted them. "Hello, darling." Your mother greeted you with a quick hug. Your father was bit warmer, but still cold. "Mr. President! So good to see you. How's my favorite son in law!" Your mother beamed as she went to hug Bradley. Bradley responded that both of you were doing well as he shook your father's hand.

Before dinner, you decided to give your guests a private tour of the decorations. "They're a bit dated, dear, don't you think?" Your mother critiqued you. Your shoulders slumped at her comment. "I think they look wonderful, Y/N. They're traditional and elegant." Maverick quickly commented. You whispered a thank you to him.

By the time the tour was over, your parents had picked apart the decor you had chosen, commented on the fact that you hadn't offered to let them stay the night, and criticized the last event you'd hosted for your social cause. Your father also kept trying to talk shop with Bradley, even though you kept reminding him that this wasn't a business dinner but a family celebration.

Thankfully, dinner was served quickly after, and soon everyone was eating and having pleasant conversations. You silently picked at your chicken while listening to what was being said, quickly butting in if something was about to get too heated.

You really thought you were home free by the time dessert was being served—boy were you wrong.

Somehow, the topic of your marriage came up, and your mother asked that faithful question, "When are the two of you going to have children? I've read several articles about how people would love to see a White House filled with babies again, like back in the Kennedy era."

"Mother, Bradley, and I have barely been married a year. We'll have kids when the time is right." You tell her. "Well, honey, you're thirty-one. You aren't getting any younger." She tells you as she spears a berry from her cake.

"We still have plenty of time to have children. We don't want to rush into anything that we aren't ready for." You tell her politely. Bradley can feel you tense up beside him. He places his hand on your thigh and rubs circles with his thumb to try and calm you down.

"I know you think you have time, dear, but it's your job as the First Lady, especially a young First Lady, to give the world some presidential babies." She states. "I know you think you have a career to focus on, but your time in the campaigning and staffer world is over. You're never going to be able to work, if that's what you want to call what you were doing before, in politics again after Bradley's second term is up. No one is going to take a former First Lady seriously."

Anger thrums through your body. Your leg is shaking, you have a death grip on your fork, and tears prick your eyes. Bradley turns to you to speak, but you cut him off.

"That's enough, Mother." You say. You take a deep breath and meet her eyes across the table. She narrows hers at you, as if she's daring you to say something else. "I'm never going to be good enough for you, am I?" You ask her. "What?" She looks at you with feigned confusion.

"No matter what I do, what I wear, what I say, what I accomplish, it's still not going to be enough." You tell her. "I win first place in the school debate. You tell me that if I worked harder, I could have won the state one. I graduate at the top of my class in high school? You told me that I should have had a perfect GPA. I land a killer internship in college, and you say that I shouldn't be working for a representative from such a small state. I get a no-name independent elected to the presidency, and you think the best thing I've done with that is marry him! And then even that isn't good enough now, either! I've spent my entire life being a mirrorball, trying to keep your attention for even a fraction of a second because you and dad always put everything else before me! I've tried my whole life to be good enough for you, and it still isn't enough! So, like I said, no matter what I do, you'll never be satisfied. You'll never be proud of me. You'll never really love me." With that last comment, your nerve breaks, and the tears fall. You quickly excuse yourself from dinner and run out of the room. Bradley moves to follow you, but Jaycee beats him.

He turns back to the remaining people at the table who are looking at him with wide eyes.

"I can't believe she just said that! Ted, can you believe how your daughter just spoke to me?!" Your mother gasps.

Bradley takes a deep breath and collects himself.

"Congressman and Senator Wiseman, I think you should leave. He tells them.

"Excuse me?" Your father says.

"I said I think the two of you should leave. You've both overstayed your welcome." Bradley says calmly. "You're kicking us out because Y/N is so sensitive? How rude of you." Your mother tells him.

"The only person who has been rude this evening is you, Senator." Bradley states. Your mother scoffs at him and then darts her eyes across the room to the other patrons still seated at the table. None of them speak up to defend her.

"I was only telling her the truth. Y/N has never been good at handling it." She doubles down on her comments.

"The truth? You think that was the truth?" Bradley begins to raise his voice. "No, let me tell you what the truth is." He states through gritted teeth.

"Y/N has worked harder than any other campaign manager or Chief of Staff that I have ever known. She put her whole heart into my campaign because she believed in me. She quite literally almost lost her life for my presidency. Speaking of? Where were you when someone tried to murder her? Did you even call her to see if she was okay? The night of the election, you sent her a text congratulating her, a text message! You didn't even have the decency to call her and tell her how proud you were of her accomplishment. Are you even proud of her for what she did? Because I am! And all evening, you've sat on your high horse and picked her apart bit by bit, and I'm sick of it! So you can get your things and leave. Dante will show you to the door." Bradley tells them as he exhales deeply.

"Mr. President, you can't talk to us like that. Ted, are you going to let him speak to us like that?!" Your mother asks him.

"Right now, I'm not the president, Cynthia. I'm simply a husband who is furious about how his wife has been treated this evening." Bradley states as he stands up to lean over the table.

"But as the president, I'm telling you right now that if you ever speak to her like that again, or treat her like she is some prized show pony, I guarantee that you will never see another bill that you propose get passed, I will cut off your committee funding, and I will personally endorse and campaign for whom ever runs against you in your next election. Do you understand?" Bradley says with venom in his voice.

Your parents shake their heads before being escorted out. He sits back down and shakes his head before looking at the three people who are still at the table.

"I'm sorry. I—" He waves his hands, not sure what to say. "It's fine, Bradley. You said what needed to be said. Now go check on your girl. Jake can help us from here." Maverick says as he parts Bradley on the shoulder before he leaves the dining room.

Bradley knocked on the door before entering. You were lying on the bed whimpering as Jaycee stroked your shoulder to try and soothe you. "Babe, Bradley is here, I'm going to give you two some space." Jaycee quietly whispered to you before getting up to leave.

You sat up when Bradley joined you on the bed.

"I'm sorry." You sniffled as you tried to wipe your mascara stained cheeks. "I'm sorry that I ruined the evening, I shouldn't have said those things. I know I probably embarrassed you and everyone else. My parents are going to hate me now. Everyone else out there probably hates me." You rambled tearfully as Bradley pulled you to his chest to hug you.

"It's just my mom—she kept on picking and poking and it my anxiety just kept building and building, and—" Your body starts to tremble as your breathing becomes labored. "The weight of it—its just so much to bear, and I—I can't breathe." You pant out. Your hand flies to your throat as you desperately attempt to unclasp the strand of pearls from your neck. They're a physical reminder of the grip your parents have on you.

"Bradley—I can't breathe—I —I" He sees the panic written all over your face. He's trying to help you, but you're shaking and fighting the necklace, and he can't get a grip on the clasp. Before he can do anything else, you pull at the strand and rip it off. Dozens of white orbs fly off the string and clatter unceremoniously to the floor. You let out a long exhale before slouching onto him. You grab the oval pendant you're still wearing and run your thumb and index finger over it as you calm down. Bradley sits there silently with you.

"You have nothing to be sorry for." He tells you after a few minutes. You look up at him. Your eyes are still bleary from the tears you've shed. "I mean it. They were awful to you, and I should have said something sooner. If anyone should apologize, it's me." He tells you.

You open your mouth to speak, but he cuts you off. "Right after you left, I kicked them out and told them how horrible they were to you. I also made sure that they know if they even treat you like that again, at least while I'm president, it will be the end of both of their careers." He tells you proudly.

Fresh tears spring to your eyes. "Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you." You sob over and over again as you bury your head into his chest.

"I love you, Y/N. I'd do anything in this world for you. I mean it." Bradley tells you as he kisses the top of your hair. "Love you too." You tell him. Your words come out muffled from how hard you face is pressed up against him.

"If you're feeling up to it, we still have presents to open with Mav and Penny and Jake and Jaycee." He says. You smile. "I'd like that." You tell him. "Good, but first, we need to change." He states with a twinkle in his eye. He hands you a box to unwrap, and you smile when you see what's inside.

Twenty minutes later, the six of you are curled up on couches with mugs of coca and piles of wrapping paper. You can't remember the last time you smiled at Christmas or smiled this much in general, but you know, as long as Bradley is around, you were going to be happy.

Loves, I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

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