#….would you believe I was looking forward to Christmas this year? that feels like a while ago now

[samwisefamgee]

lmaooo the high is 7 degrees today and people keep messaging me like “omg I hope you’re ok don’t get too cold 😭🥺 uwu” yeah I’m not ok and it is extremely cold and also everything else is bad but thanks anyway

[morningmightbekinder]

realizing my s/o might be a covert narcissist 🙃

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Dead Man Walking || LN4 {2}

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader Summary: Christmas with the Norris’ is a long standing tradition but will that still be the case after this years? Warnings: 18+ only, angst and fluff WC: 3.5k F1 Masterlist || one || two

Flo’s old bedroom in her parent’s house hadn’t changed since she moved out. There were still glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling that you had helped her to stick up when you were fifteen. Lando had made fun of them and called them lame as walked past the doorway, but he had still come and held your chair stable when you were precariously close to tipping over.

“What are you staring at?” Flo asked as she walked in to find you lying on her bed, eyes on the roof. 

“Nothing, have you picked a dress yet?” She huffed at your question and opened her closet with a shake of her head. “You do realise the party has already started.”

There was no way to miss it with the christmas music drifting up the staircase and echoing along the hall. Every year was the same, it didn’t matter that all their children had left home - Adam and Cisca still held the annual event and attendance was non-negotiable, even for you. 

The bedroom door opposite Flo’s opened and Lando froze from tugging at the black tie as he caught sight of you. A slow smile grew on his face and he started to take a step forward until Flo appeared with a dress in hand. She held the floor length gown up to her body and swayed the metallic-finish material side to side. “What do you think?” 

“Didn’t disco balls go out of fashion in the 80’s?” Lando teased, drawing her attention to the doorway.

“Didn’t ask your opinion, noob,” she shot back as she grabbed the door and shut it in his face. “I can’t believe he’s staying all week too. Doesn’t he have anything better to do?”

“You should be thinking about your dress right now,” you reminded her as you got up and searched the rack for another option. “Here, this is perfect.”

You could hardly explain to her that you were the real reason Lando was staying local all week. For six months you had stolen nights together, not only avoiding the paparazzi and fans always trying to snap photos of him, but more importantly, Flo. The guilt was a constant fist squeezing your stomach but every time you thought about telling her the truth, the fear of her response kept your lips sealed. Then months had passed by and you thought it would be even worse to admit how long the secret had been kept.

“Babe! This is why you are my best friend,” Flo exclaimed as she dropped what she held to take the emerald green chiffon dress from your hands. “What would I do without you?”

Your smile was forced as you wondered the very same thing. Your mothers had joined the same playgroup before you could walk but you had crawled to Flo and face planted, accidentally headbutting her and making you both cry, but you had been inseparable ever since. Whenever you made a promise to each other it was sealed with the mantra from cradle to grave - ensuring the promise would be as strong and long lasting as your friendship.

You caught the empty hanger she tossed back and hooked it back onto the rack. “End up looking like a disco ball, apparently.”

“Not even,” she said with a roll of her eyes as she shimmied into the dress. “I refuse to take fashion advice from a man who has a hoodie for every occasion.”

You laughed at the completely true statement and pointed at the door. “Not tonight though.”

“That’s not by choice. Mum said he had to smarten up or he would be on dish duty after dinner.” She scoffed as she turned around for you to tie the lace back together. “I told her, wearing a suit won’t make him any smarter.“

You shook your head with a laugh. “If I could get away with wearing a hoodie tonight, I absolutely would too. It feels weird dressing up one day a year. I spent the whole morning here in sweatpants.”

“It’s tradition, and you look gorgeous.”

“I should for the effort I put in,” you giggled, offering your elbow as you opened the bedroom door. “Shall we?”

She looped her arm in yours with a nod as the music downstairs grew with each step. “Let’s do this.”

If you had to listen to another Christmas song you were going to scream, so you escaped the warmth of the Norris’ home and took a breath of wintery air on the balcony where it was less audible. Though there was a chill in the air the eggnog and brandy kept you from feeling the full brunt of the night and you could hardly believe there was snow forecast to fall. 

The only light that reached you was what slipped through the joins of the curtains but it was enough to see the paddocks beyond the grassy lawn. This late in the year the horses that usually grazed the paddocks would be holding up in the stables, away from the morning frosts that occurred daily, but you could still hear their neighs in the distance. 

“Still not a fan of Bublé?”

You smiled to the sky as a pair of cold hands settled on your waist and warm lips found the delicate spot behind your ear. 

“If he hasn’t grown on me by now, I don’t think he ever will.” You turned to face Lando and linked your arms around his neck. “Merry Christmas, my love.”

“Merry Christmas, baby.” His body started to sway, taking you with him as he hummed the stupid song in your ear, laughing when you narrowed your eyes at him. “What? All I want for Christmas is you.”

Your gaze softened and you smiled again as you tucked your head into his chest and buried your hands in his jacket to try steal some warmth. “Are you cold, love?” he asked, looking back at the warm house where all the log fires were lit.

“No, I’m not ready to go back yet,” you admitted as you cradled his cheek in your hand and guided his attention back to you. “Just a few more minutes together.”

He nodded before giving you a soft kiss and pulling away to shrug his wool suit jacket off and drape it over your shoulders. “Can’t have my girl getting sick for Christmas.”

One Year Earlier “I don’t buy it,” Flo muttered over her flute of champagne as she sat to your left at the dining table, waiting for dinner to be served. 

“Buy what?” you asked as your attention was pulled away from Max on your right, and the pictures of the new simulator he had just finished setting up in his room. 

“Them.” You followed her nod across the room to find Lando on the couch in front of the roaring log fire, his girlfriend sat on his lap as if there weren’t two other cushions available beside him. “There’s no chemistry.”

“Eh,” you shrugged as you grabbed your glass that Max had refilled for you, “since when do you need chemistry if you’re a model or whatever?” 

“You almost sound jealous,” he teased quietly, wary of Flo on the other side. 

“Am not,” you bit back a little too harshly, only making him chuckle more and take a sip of his beer before he said anything else. 

“Dinner will be a little late, I’m afraid,” Cisca announced with a sigh, muttering about the gravy catastrophe. “Adam, honey, turn the music up for a bit.”

“If you aren’t hung up on him, then come have a dance with me,” Max dared as Oliver and his pregnant wife joined Flo’s aunt and uncle dancing in front of the hearth, beneath the twinkling fairy lights. He wiggled his fingers as he waited for you and with a sigh you placed your hand in his and rose from your place setting. 

Flo grinned as you passed by, poking you in the ribs with a laugh and giving you the thumbs up - but Max was only a friend. He could only be a friend because the person you actually pined for was his best friend.

“I know,” he whispered in your ear as one hand rested on your waist and your feet followed his lead.

“Know what?” you asked innocently, but he had caught your eyes drifting to the couch as you circled your way around the room.

“I won’t say anything, I just thought you might want to talk to someone. God knows you can’t talk to Flo about it, she would smother him while he slept,” Max joked. “And I kind of like having my best friend.” His eyes looked at the couple before he sighed. “Most of the time at least.”

You weren’t the only one vying for his attention anymore since he got a girlfriend. “You’ve been drinking too much, Fewtrell. You’re seeing things with your beer goggles on, I have no interest in Lando.”

“Is that why he hasn’t stopped staring at you?” Your head snapped around but Lando’s attention was firmly on Luisa and the very deep kiss they were openly sharing. “Totally not interested in him, huh,” he chuckled as he tightened his hold on you when you tried to pull away. “I’m sorry, it sucks, wanting what you can’t have.”

“There are worse things,” you muttered under your breath but he heard and curled an eyebrow in question. “Wanting what you can’t have right in front of you.”

He had no response but a sad smile as the song changed and Michael Bublé’s Cold December Night crooned over the speakers. 

“The twinkling of the lights, The sound of carols fill the household, Old saint Nick has taken flight, With a heart on board so please be careful, Each year I ask for many different things, But now I know what my heart wants you to bring.”

“I fucking hate Bublé,” you sniffed as you pulled away from Max’s arms. “I’m just going to get some fresh air.”

“It’s bloody snowing out there,” he objected as he followed you to the backdoor. “You’re going to be sick for Christmas.”

The dinner bell rang out and you sighed as it shattered the bubble you had found yourself in and knew you would have to release Lando from your arms.

“Come to my room tonight,” you whispered against his lips before they shared one last kiss. ‘Your room’ was actually one of the guest rooms down the hall but you had spent so much time in it over the years that it was only ever referred to as yours now. It was so much yours that Cisca had even asked you for your opinion in the wallpaper when she renovated the house.

“Don’t have to tell me twice, baby,” he said with a smirk as he opened the backdoor for you. You reluctantly removed his jacket and missed the scent more than the warmth as you passed it back. Lando pulled it back on and dipped his head to steal one final kiss before stepping inside with a warning over his shoulder, “No dancing with Max this year.”

“It’s your turn to be jealous this year,” you said as you blew a kiss to him along the narrow corridor.

He paused and cast his arm out, planting his palm on the wall and blocking you from rejoining the party. “What makes you think I wasn’t jealous last year?”

“Maybe it was the tongue down Luisa’s throat, or the hand up her skirt?”

You tried to duck under his arm but he caught you around the waist and used his body to cage you against the wall. “I had to do something to distract myself,” he admitted lowly in your ear, hiding his face from your disbelieving eyes. “You were all I could think about, you and that sexy little dress.” You tilted your head back as you felt his lips on your neck as he continued his confession. “If I didn’t do something I would have gone crazy watching him hold you when I couldn’t.”

His kiss set your body on fire and you combed your fingers through his hair tugging the strands so you could capture his lips.

“What the fuck!”

Both of your heads snapped towards the outburst and your stomach dropped as you saw Flo standing at the end of the hall. Her arms were limp at her side, the blank look of shock bleeding into betrayal as her head started to shake before she turned away.

Your body reacted before your brain could, pushing Lando away as you chased after her despite his call to let her go. You couldn’t let that happen, she had always been a worrier and the longer she stewed on something the worse it got in her mind. You had to talk to her.

You raced up the stairs, apologising to Adam as you passed him in the hurry, the confusion of catching his daughter’s rush to escape clear on his face. Her door was shut and you tested the handle to find it was locked and your head thumped against the wood with defeat.

“Please, Flo, let me in,” you begged her. A quick no resounding from inside. Turning around, you took a seat on the floor and rested your back to the door. “I’m going to stay right here until you open the door.”

“You’re going to be there a very long time.”

You sat there in silence for a few minutes wondering where to begin, how to explain what happened, why, how long. Finally you decided on a simple apology. “I’m sorry, Flo. We didn’t intend to fall in love, didn’t intend on anything happening. I fought the feelings for years, because I knew what it meant to you.”

“Still didn’t stop you though, did it?” She spat, her voice closer than you expected. “I had one rule. One!”

Your make up was certainly ruined as tears spilled forth, eyeliner and mascara stealing down your cheeks. “I know.”

“They say they don’t have favourites but mum and dad have always put him first. They missed my events to go to his races,” she sobbed, a sense of déjà vu filling you as she retold the history you had consoled her through years ago. She had always felt second place to Lando. “I thought you would always be my best friend.”

Your gut wrenched as you realised what she was feeling. She thought you were choosing him over her - like there had to be an ultimatum. “I still am,” you promised, shaking the door handle again. “Please, unlock the door.” She made no move to turn the key.

“Do you remember when you got Summer and I thought you were going to forget all about me?” you asked, remembering the day the pony arrived at the house and Flo had been so excited she had run off to the stables without you. “You told me I was always going to be your best friend, from cradle to grave. She was your horse, and you could love us both, right?”

The door tugged open and you fell back, sprawled on the floor as she stood with her arms crossed. “Are you calling my brother a horse?”

“Depends, would it make you feel better?”

She rolled her eyes and offered a hand to pull you to your feet. “I don’t know yet, I’m too pissed off at you.”

“Fair enough.”

“Hey, you guys okay?” Lando asked as he jogged to the top of the stairs, his tie and jacket missing.

You screwed your eyes shut at the timing and pinched the bridge off your nose as you asked, “Can we just have a few minutes?”

He turned twice first to head back down the stairs before he changed his mind and went to his room. “You said I had changed,” he muttered to Flo as he stood in his doorway and held the door knob. “You said I looked happier than ever.”

“I’m going to vomit if you tell me she’s the reason.”

“Sorry.”

“For what? Stealing my best friend?”

You stepped into her line of vision and waved a hand behind your back hoping Lando would get the hint. “He hasn’t stolen me, Flo. Cradle to grave.” You held up your pinky and held your breath as she stared at the age old promise you had made. “I should have told you how I felt about him, but you can be really scary and I was a coward. It was still a shitty thing to do.”

“Really shitty.”

“I know.”

“I can’t believe it was you,” she said with a shake of her head. “I knew there had to be a girl. This is annoying, more than anything, because he’s not such a muppet anymore, but knowing it’s from you - I don’t know if that’s better or worse.”

“Surely being happy is what matters most, not the who or why.”

She fell silent and her eyes fell to the door that he had quietly shut. “What happens if he breaks your heart?”

You hoped it never came to that but you couldn’t see the future so you shrugged. “Then I will cry on my best friend’s shoulder like I always have.”

Her shoulders bounced once with a laugh before she caught herself and tried to appear nonchalant. “I suppose I would offer to key their car.”

“And I would say it isn’t worth it.” You reached for her hand and she let you hold it as you gave it a squeeze. “But…if he doesn’t then I might not just be your best friend, might be your sister in law too someday.”

“Too soon,” she said with a scrunch of her nose as she pulled her hand away and went to Lando’s door. “Hurt her and I’ll key your new car, noob.”

The door swung open and Lando leaned against the jamb. “You don’t have to worry, sis.”

“I love her more than you.”

Lando snorted, a sound so similar to Flo’s, and he shook his head. “It’s not a competition, you muppet.”

She appeared almost pleased, though also surprised as she nodded and stepped away, “good answer.”

“But,” Lando smirked and you sighed inwardly, “if it was I would win.”

Flo oddly didn’t respond as she started to make her way back to dinner, pausing only as she reached the stairs before looking back. “By the way, I’m dating Max.”

“What? No fucking way, I gonna kill him,” Lando growled as he took a step towards her before her head fell back with laughter.

“Of course I'm not, Lando, but now you know how it feels.”

Her laugh echoed down the hall as she descended the staircase and left the two of you alone. Facing Lando, you stared at him wondering if anything had changed but the moment of uncertainty was gone when he pulled you into his arms and kissed you without fear of being caught.

“I’m taking you to dinner tomorrow, it’s all I’ve wanted to do for so long,” he laughed as he pressed his forehead to yours and recovered from the almost blessing you had received from Flo. “We don’t have to hide anymore.”

“Tomorrow's Christmas,” you said with a smile.

“Shit, okay then, the next day. Hey!” He grinned as he pointed downstairs, his head bobbing along to the song that was playing again on the playlist. “Christmas came early for me,” he said as he dragged you to his bedroom and closed the door, silencing Bublé as he sang, ‘All I want for Christmas is you’.

“We are going to miss dinner,” you warned as he sat on his bed and pulled you onto his lap.

“There’s always plenty of leftovers, plus, what I want isn’t on the menu downstairs,” he teased as his hands brushed beneath your dress.

“Bob, what are you up to-oh!” Max covered his eyes as he busted into the room. “Bro, everyone is waiting for you two. Time and place, people.”

You stood up and pulled the dress back into place, sending Lando a look that said ‘I told you so’ before tapping Max on the shoulder as you passed him. “You can look now.”

“I think the damage is already done, the image is seared on my retina,” he said with a dramatic shake. “So you two finally…”

“Got caught,” Lando said with a chuckle, slipping his hand in yours as the three of you headed to the dining room. “No more hiding.”

Max grinned and clapped Lando on the shoulder. “About time!”

“Wait, you knew?”

“Uh…I have been in the middle of this situation for like five years. Of course I knew. I think I knew before the two of you knew.”

You frowned at the news and came to a stop halfway to the landing. “So last year?”

“Was my trying to get you two to see what was clearly right in front of you the whole bloody time. You’re welcome for that, you know. And I expect to be thanked as the best friend and wingman one can ask for in our next stream. Now can we please go and eat, I’m starving!”

Lando looked at you with a different look of hunger in his eyes as he kissed your hand. “Me too.”

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[beggars-opera]

Hey, so we don't talk enough about A Christmas Carol as being at least a little bit about not continuing a cycle of abuse and neglect, both against others and yourself.

In the book little Scrooge is left languishing over the holidays in a boarding school for some never-explained reason, but it is made very clear that this is miserable and unfair, and that his father is doing this on purpose. His sister specifically comes to tell him that "father is so much kinder now than he used to be, that home's like heaven." This also reflects a bit of Dickens's own childhood when his father went into debtor's prison and little Charlie was forced to support his family working full time in a shoe-blacking factory at the age of 12 (which is also why so many of his books seem to have a moral of "hey, kids are people too and maybe we shouldn't make them work in the mines.")

Whatever family reunion happened after didn't work out, because Scrooge continues believing that no one is coming to save him and pulling himself up by his bootstraps at the detriment of all other social relationships is the only way forward. And the more he lives by that philosophy, the more miserable he gets, because obviously he pushes away anyone who has that hope that he lost. They threaten to break down the walls he's built and teach him that a big pile of money doesn't have to be the only thing that he can rely on, if he'd just let himself be vulnerable and have a relationship with people who care about him, because they're out there even if he's ignoring them.

There is a certain type of person still very much out there who thinks this way. "I've never been happy in my life, so no one else has a right to be either. I was abused in my childhood so it's only fair that everyone else suffer as well." We see this in parents who still try to use corporal punishment, and in wealthy people who ignore the social factors keeping others down and scream that everyone else is just entitled, that only those who suffer and scrape deserve happiness. And they especially hate the people like Fred who represent the past that could have been, who have maintained hope for the future, and seem to be rubbing their optimism in your face, when in reality they're just maintaining hope because it's the only way you can survive.

It's so important for Scrooge to actually see the impact this thinking has on both himself and multiple generations. Rich people have this weird hangup about this story because they think Scrooge is bad because he's rich. He's not, he's bad because he's a horrible person and a miser - he doesn't use his money to better anything, including himself. Salting the earth, everyone suffers here, including him. And he learns that he's going to die old and alone without ever having spent or enjoyed his money, and that his family feels sorry for him, and that the nameless masses of poor people out there that he decries so much are in fact living, breathing people, including tiny disabled kids who don't deserve to suffer just because you decided life isn't fair.

In the end he takes responsibility for actually uplifting the people in the next generation who are trying to make the world a better place and no longer punching down, because it doesn't have to be this way. So many people out there just give up hope because things are hard and they think trying to improve things is a pointless exercise that makes them look dumb. How dare you grow a year older and not an hour richer! How dare you marry for love! That's the only thing more ridiculous than a Merry Christmas! When in reality, there are plenty of people who would love to see them happy if they just had a chance.

It's really sad that, while the language used to describe it has changed, these problems still persist. That people feel so wronged and isolated that they spend their days ensuring everyone else will be as well. That they fail to see their fellow humans as fellow humans who are just as deserving of love and kindness and a roof over their heads. I don't care what time of year it is, we should all be lifting each other up rather than tearing each other down.

[tojisbbg]

𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙚

❝and i know that i've been the worst, but i love you better.❞  

♡ toji fushiguro ♡

a/n: need him to fill all of my holes asap! 🥰 also, two posts in one day?!

reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated <3

content: ex!toji fushiguro x fem!reader, age gap!! (reader is 23 and toji is 31), smutty smut (lolol), not edited.

---

it's the middle of december, the air was crispy cold outside and despite begging your landlord to put the heater on blast in your apartment; your king-sized bed always felt like an ice plate.

of course, the size of the bed was intended to be shared with another human being. your boyfriend— well, now ex-boyfriend; toji. however, the breakup between you both was sudden, ending a little bit before thanksgiving.

this was the first time in three years that you've gone back to your parent's house for the holidays without toji. it was dreadful, having to distance yourself from nosy relatives who were bombarding you with questions about where your boyfriend was.

not having the energy or heart within you to explain the whole story, you gave them the excuse that he was working on thanksgiving. it was the most believable excuse you could come up with, as your boyfriend was quite much older than you, by eight years to be precise.

of course, your parents were strictly against your relationship at first, but, just as how toji was able to charm himself into your heart, it didn't take much longer until your parents would give in and melt. toji was mature, charming and he knew how to handle you.

you both loved to spend the holidays together, not to mention that his birthday overlapped during new years. now, you're only looking forward to forgetting the vast memories of him, which continue to haunt you this rough winter season.

you were trying to find the perfect position to fall asleep in, but, your room was so cold that it made it hard for you to concentrate on sleep. it was snowing outside, and the landlord clearly didn't give a single flying fuck about your comfort.

after a few minutes of fighting with yourself, you finally could feel your eyes grow heavy with sleep. it wouldn't be long until you could hear your bedroom door crack open, eyebrows pinching in confusion.

you couldn't tell if you were hallucinating or almost about to get kidnapped or murdered in the comforts of your own house.

your heart began to thump in your chest, feeling scared minute by minute as you could hear the heavy footsteps of the figure approach your bed. you regretted everything, you wanted toji by your side to protect you from whatever monster stood in front of your body, to hold you tight in his arms to keep you warm like every year because he knew that you get cold easily.

you missed toji.

suddenly, the blanket tucked under your back and butt got lifted before there was a dip in the bed behind you. a strong pair of arms wrapped around your waist, followed by the familiar scent of the cologne and body wash that is engraved into your brain.

"toji?" you mustered up the courage to call out the name you prayed to god for. he shoved his face in the crook of your neck, and just by feeling the rough skin of his lip scar on your flesh, you knew that it was him.

"it's just me, i'm here." he mumbled into your skin before pressing a tender kiss on your shoulder.

"why are you here?" you sighed, not even bothering to tell him to stop his ministrations of kissing your nape and rubbing his hands on your hips.

"had a feeling that you were cold." toji answered in a gruff voice before yawning.

"you know we can't-"

"go to sleep, y/n. we'll talk about it tomorrow." he cut you off before scooping your body closer to his. if it weren't for the fact that this was by far the warmest you've felt in your own bed within these past two weeks, maybe you would've screamed at him before kicking him out.

---

you were grateful to whoever proposed the idea that college student should get long breaks for christmas. it was still pretty early in the morning, maybe around six in the morning? you were warm and tucked away into toji's chest the entire night as you both peacefully slumbered.

you stirred awake when you felt disconnected from his touch, forcing an eye open to see that toji turned to face the other way; leaving you could and abandoned. you whined in annoyance, scooting over to him as you tugged on his shirt. toji, who was snoring in deep sleep, groaned from the gentle shakes.

"hm?" he hummed, eyes still closed, but he was half-awake now.

"cold." you briefly said, making him let out a deep sigh.

"come here." toji replied with a groggy voice as he opened his arms to invite you into his embrace once again. you snuggled closer to him as he hugged you tight.

yet, it seemed like that wasn't enough.

you kept fidgeting in his arms, continuing to either tighten your hold on his large and beefy figure and rolling more into him until you finally rolled on top of him. you were literally holding onto him like a koala.

"jesus, i'm not going anywhere, you brat." toji groaned, feeling your weight on his body. you sat up, now straddling his waist, letting out an annoyed huff. toji decided to watch you pout through his half-lidded eyes.

suddenly, you began to take off your shirt and the hello kitty printed pajama pants you wore, roughly throwing them on them floor. toji's eyes widened as you were now sitting on top of him, half-naked.

you gave him a small glare before pointing at his t-shirt and sweats.

"off. now." you demanded, getting off of toji as you watched him sit up with his bed messy hair. he obliged to your command, not finding the energy to argue back with you or ask any questions this early in the morning.

the man just wanted to go back to sleep.

so, toji did as you said, taking off all his clothes until he was left only in his boxers. you took a minute to soak in the sight of his godly sculpted body as he slipped back into the covers.

without any hesitation, you threw yourself on top of him, wrapping your arms and legs around him. it took everything in you to not moan out in bliss as the skin to skin touch between you two immediately transmitted his body warmth to you.

toji's body was perfect for hugging during any season, especially winter time. he was like a giant and beefy teddy bear to cuddle with, his body being a natural furnace.

without thinking, you rubbed your body onto his, unknowingly grinding on his crotch. toji's breath hitched, feeling his cock harden even more than before when he saw your half-naked glory after two weeks.

"feels so warm, toji." you mumbled, pressing yourself into him as your face was buried into the crook of his neck. toji ran his fingers on the back of your thighs, while his other hand rested on top of your ass.

"yeah? i could make you feel even warmer." he smirked, bucking his hips a little up to make you feel his erection. you gasped, feeling his cock throb below your pussy, the thin fabric of your panties and his boxers not providing much of a barrier.

"t-toji.." you stammered, cheeks growing warmer against the flesh of his chest. his skin smelled like bare vanilla with a mix of cologne, it was almost intoxicating.

"shh... let me please you, sweetheart." toji softly whispered, a strong arm curling against your waist while he turned to his side, gently laying you on the bed. you were now facing the wall with toji behind you, his hands sneaking up back before unclasping your bra.

with one swift motion, your bra joined the rest of the heap of clothes scattered on the floor. toji's hand found its way to your tits, groping them as you let out a whimper.

"haven't seen these pretty tits in so long. can i give them a little kiss, darling?" he sweetly asked, your mind fogged up with nothing but the thought of toji. nonetheless, you nodded your head as you leaned a little back.

toji lifted his head before leaning forwards to give each of your nipples a kiss. the contact of his soft lips and your sensitive hard buds was enough to drive you off the edge. but, knowing toji, he's one playful man.

without a warning, he latched his mouth onto your tits. his warm tongue swirled around your swollen bud as he suckled on your nipple.

"mhmm... toji." you moaned, your hands stroking his hair as he sucked and kissed the flesh of your tits until it left purplish hickeys on your skin.

with one final kiss on the valley between your tits, he went back to his original position. toji relaxed behind you, his arm wrapping around your waist. he noticed how you were trying to discretely rub your thighs together to create some kind of friction that would grant you the relief your aching pussy needed.

"need something, y/n?" toji teased, but you were too stubborn to give in. toji's fingers were freely roaming all over your body, from dancing on your spine to rubbing your hips and ass.

"n-no." you stammered, desperately wishing for him to plunge his fingers or cock inside your cunt right now. toji's fingers played with the waistband of your panties.

"hm? you sure? seems like you need something... or rather, this sweet little pussy of yours need something from me, no?" he spoke in a husky voice, the tips of his fingers gently rubbing your pussy on top of your panties. your breath hitched, feeling him press on your clothed clit before tracing the outline of your slit. there was a visible wet patch created from your slick, making toji smirk.

"so wet for me. you missed me, didn't you?" toji asked, but you were too focused on his movements. the lack of response made him a little upset, so he gently pinched the plush flesh of your thigh to get your attention.

"oww!" you winced in pain, looking over your shoulder to throw him a glare.

"i asked you a question, baby. don't ya know it's rude to not answer your boyfriend?" he snickered, making you roll your eyes at his justification.

"ex-boyfriend." you corrected him, making him scoff.

"oh, is that so? so you'd let your ex-boyfriend play with this pretty pussy of yours, hm? slut yourself out for him? talk to me, sweetheart." toji's hand slipped inside your panties, his middle finger sinking into your wet folds. your eyes rolled back as he rubbed your sopping wet pussy at a pleasurable pace, the words in your throat getting stuck.

"f-fuck." you moaned out, feeling toji draw circles on your throbbing clit. you swallowed harshly, as toji began to rub your clit at a pretty fast pace before slowing down and sliding his fingers down to your pulsating hole.

toji shoved two of his fingers inside without a warning, making a whimper escape your lips. he was unforgiving, scissoring his long and thick digits in and out of your hole at a cruel rhythm; stretching your hole.

"nghh~ feels so good!" you panted like a bitch in heat, feeling the familiar knot forming in your lower stomach. toji felt your walls clamping on his fingers, a small smirk etching on his lips as he added onto your pleasure by rubbing your clit with his thumb.

your eyes rolled back, shutting your thighs around his wrists as a shaky hand came down to halt his movements.

"t-too much." you squealed, vision becoming blurry as you couldn't even form coherent sentences.

"you could take it, baby." toji encouraged, prying your legs open with his free hand as he gave you the most jaw dropping orgasm just from simple foreplay.

you saw white, creaming on his fingers as you let out a guttural moan.

"that's it, there you go, pretty." he cooed, helping your calm down from your orgasm as you tried to snap back into reality.

"holy shit." you breathed out, now laying on your back as you turned your head to face toji and look at him through half-lidded eyes.

you took note of the details that were already carved inside your brain of the man who owned your heart and soul. his beautiful ebony locks that always seemed dishevealed yet so soft to your touch; smelling like your shampoo because he's too lazy to get his own. his sharp grey eyes that always tease you. the supple fat of his cheek that he swore he'd get rid off but always rethinks his decision every time you pinch or bite them. his plump lips that kiss you stupid even if they're a little chapped sometimes because he's a little forgetful.

and of course, your favorite feature, the scar on the corner of his lip that you love to kiss because it's unique to him.

this was the man that you were so madly in love with, toji fushiguro. you fought wars to be with him, to get approval from your strict family, because he was an older man. but, not once have you ever regretted your decision.

to which, you were now thinking, was the reason that caused you both to break up even worth it?

"missed you." a shy glimmer graced your eyes as you mumbled those two words, catching toji's attention. he gave you a boyish smile, grazing his thumb along your bottom lip.

"yeah?" toji huskily chuckled, making you nod as you lifted yourself up before climbing on top of him. your disheaveled hair curtained his face as you leaned down to finally press your lips on him. the kiss was needy and messy, feeling toji push your head further towards him, his tongue sucking and biting your bottom lip.

you let out a whimper, opening your mouth to grant the wet muscle permission to explore the caverns of your mouth. you unintentionally began to grind your hips on his hard bulge, the wet patch on your cotton panties now dampening the front of his boxers.

toji let out a gruff groan, his hand going down to caress the supple fatty flesh of your ass before giving it a small spank, making you jolt.

you gave a tender kiss on the side of his mouth where his scar was before kissing along the outline of his sharp jaw. your wet kisses moved down to his neck as you sucked purplish bruises on his skin, all while he was groping your ass and thighs.

your mouth was practically drooling at the thought of having your boyfri— ex-boyfriend's cock inside your mouth again. you eagerly tugged down his boxers, his hard dick springing out and slapping his lower stomach.

toji was so incredibly manly, his body was gorgeous; as if the greek gods themselves scultped him. it was no use of denying the fact that you loved beefy men who could crush you in seconds with their body weight. toji was fit, his pecs were defined yet so soft; his toned abs and muscular biceps— don't forget those killer thighs and back muscles as well.

the cute happy trail leading down to the monsterous rod in his pants, which you clearly missed so dearly. you watched how his cock throbbed, the two twin veins that ran on the side of his shaft were a little swollen and his tip was red and angry from neglect; drooling with his sticky precum.

you wrapped your fingers around his cock, stroking it slowly before thumbing his tip, spreading the bead of his precum as toji groaned.

his thumb came down to brush against your lips before intruding to part them. he bit his lips, the pads of his finger feeling the wet muscle in your mouth. you licked a stripe up his shaft, starting from the base until the tip.

"fuck you're so pretty, sweetheart." a grunt left his lips, and before you knew it, the mushroom head of his cock was right in front of your lips. he rubbed the tip on your lips, the wet feeling of his precum smearing on them. you slightly opening your mouth, slowly licking the tip as you got a taste of him.

you wrapped your lips around his tip, sucking on it like candy before deepthroating as much of his cock as your mouth could take. it was almost impossible to suck and fuck the entire length of toji's dick because he was a good eight inches at least.

but, nonetheless, you tried your best to take as much in and let your hands do what was left out.

not giving you much time, toji grabbed the sides of your head before slamming his hips up into your mouth as his patience was running thin, making you gag. it seemed that all the self-control that he maintained so well all this time has completely vanished by now.

his moves were animalistic, starved and desparate.

toji began to thrust into your mouth, feeling the flesh of your cheek welcome his cock. your tongue dragged up and down his shaft, sucking in the shear length of his cock whenever he was forcing it down your throat. the twin veins grazing against the walls of your throat and against the surface of your tongue.

"you're gonna feel me exactly here." he commented with a smirk, his hand coming to your neck to slightly squeeze the area he was speaking about. he grabbed your hand before placing it on that place, then he took a hold of both sides of your cheeks.

with one long and deep thrust, he kept his word and you felt the bulge on your throat where his cock was lodged in. tears welled in your eyes, your throat burned both from the friction of his dick and the lack of oxygen.

but toji just wanted to see how long you'd last before tapping out. of course, he has no intention in killing you, but he wants to test your limits.

he continued to rut his hips, drool trickling down his cock as you choked and gagged, trying so hard to control those reflexes. but to toji, it felt like heaven because every time the muscles in your mouth and throat contracted, it hugged his cock in such a welcoming way.

"so close." he moaned out, eyes rolling back as his dick twitched inside the wet hole of your mouth that he ruthlessly fucked. you tried to breath through your nose, but it was getting a little difficult.

you felt the rush of warm liquid fill your mouth before sliding down your throat, opening your screwed shut eyes to glance up at toji. on the other hand, his eyes were closed tightly, breathing becoming erratic as he groaned in pleasure.

you tapped his thighs aggresively, wanting him to pull out before you lose your senses. he listened, taking his cock out of your mouth as you sat on your knees completely breathless. you coughed a couple of times, holding your throat as you rubbed it from the aching pain you felt.

your eyes were red and cheeks were stained with the tears that stained your rosy cheeks, eyelashes wet from it as well. you lifted your head to face him, seeing how flushed his face was as sweat coated his forehead. your eyes trailed south, seeing his cock dripping with your saliva and his cum.

"fucking asshole, you almost killed me." you said in between your breaths, glaring at him and he chuckled. leaning closer to your trembling body as he sat up, toji gently kissed your earlobe, making you shudder.

"had to make sure my little princess wasn't going around sucking other people's dick. i trained your throat pretty well, huh? but now i gotta check if this little cunt of yours has been loyal too." toji snickered, turning your body around in the position of reverse cowgirl.

you yelped once you felt him hook his forearms on the back of your knees, before pushing it up until it was besides your chest. your legs were now spread wide open as toji put you in a full nelson, his cock rubbing between your wet folds, nudging your clit as some points.

"put it in, baby." toji encouraged, pressing soft kisses to your temple. your hand went down to grab the shaft of his cock, giving it a few pumps before rubbing it on your sopping wet pussy to lubricate it. as his tip got caught in your hole, you gently and slowly began to enter the inches of his monster cock.

"ngh~ fuck, it's so big." you winced in pain, forgetting how painful the stretch of toji's cock was. it didn't matter how many times he fucked you dumb on his dick, your pussy would always be too tight for his thick meat.

"but you took it like a good girl, didn't you?" he praised, planting his feet on the bed before thrusting up into you. you moaned loudly, feeling his cock rubbing your wet walls so deliciously. the squealching sound of your pussy was pornographic.

"this pussy is mine— fuck, none of those stupid college boys could ever fuck you like i could. you're mine and only mine." toji moaned, his thrusts getting faster as his balls smacked against your ass, your hand coming down to rub your clit.

"hnghh, only yours. please! ahh~ feels so good." you were delirious, eyes rolling back from pleasure as you began to see white. your thighs were shaking as toji's thrusts began to get sloppy.

his cock twitched inside your hole, a ring of white cream already forming at the base of his dick from how much your pussy leaked on him, coating his balls in a shear white gloss.

the sticky shlick shlick sound echoed through the four walls of your shared room. tears pricked your eyes as you could feel the huge wave of your orgasm coming at you as your stomach began to tighten.

toji could sense that you're getting close, your walls clamping down on him as the tip of his dick kissed your cervix with each thrust. you turned your head to side, catching his lips in a messy and saliva filled kiss.

you both moaned into each other's mouth, cries of pleasure leaving your lips as you gushed on his cock.

"f-fuck, it's too much!" you mewled, feeling overstimulated as toji fucked you thrugh your orgasm.

"you could take it, gonna breed this pussy. maybe i'll fuck a baby into you, yeah?" toji panted and you were so cock drunk that you mindlessly nodded your head.

"yes, yes, please— fuck, give me a baby." you whimpered, and your voice was so sultry that toji came so hard inside your cunt. the thick and sticky ropes of his cum coated your walls as you shuddered from the warm feeling of being filled up with his cum.

his cock slid out, your hole being creampied to the brim as both of your cum began to gush out of your cunt. you rolled off of him, now laying besides toji as you both tried to catch your breath.

"i love you, y/n." toji confessed, turning his head to the side to look at you. that soft and lovesick expression painted on his flushed face made your heart jump.

you gave him a gentle smile, scooting closer to him before wrapping your arms and legs around him, pressing a tender kiss on his lips.

"i love you too, toji. i'm sorry for everything, i was just so angry and frustrated because it felt like forever that we've spent time together. i-i.... i got insecure and thought that you found someone better than me." your face dropped in sadness, a lump forming in your throat as you tried your best to not break into tears. toji frowned upon hearing your words before stroking your cheek.

"and why the hell would you ever think that?" he questioned and you shrugged.

"i know i'm a little immature sometimes, but i really do love you. i just don't want you to get tired of me and find a woman your age who's more mature. you know how badly people talked about us before and still do." you sighed, making toji scoff.

"fuck those people, you're mine and i'm yours. no one could ever change that, got that princess? those few weeks i got a little busy because i was working long hours to book a flight to venice for us to spend christmas together." toji smiled, making your eyes widen in shock.

"no way." you gasped, but he grinned and nodded his head, making you squeal in excitement.

"we leave next week." he informed, pressing a soft kiss on the tip of your nose. you hummed in response and hugged him tight.

"ugh, i missed my teddy bear so much... spent so many lonely nights sleeping alone." you complained, and toji rubbed your back in a comforting manner.

"my poor baby, how could i make it up to you?" he cooed.

"let me put my hello kitty stickers on your dick." you gave him a cheeky smile, making him narrow his eyes.

"naughty girl." toji snickered, his hand going down in a sly manner to grab his cock and without warning, he entered it inside your already swollen hole once again.

your breath hitched, feeling your boyfriend latch his mouth onto your nipple.

"my pretty princess." he mumbled, giving you a small wink before licking your nipple playfully.

toji couldn't wait to give you your surprise in venice, the small box resting nicely in his coat pocket.

---

BONUS:

"tojiiiii~ toji! look!!" you ran from the hotel bathroom to the bed where your fiance laid down. his sharp grey eyes peered up at you in curiosity as you showed him your phone, the diamond on your ring finger shimmering under the hotel lighting.

"what am i looking at?" toji cocked an eyebrow, watching a girl having her face squished by a guy's bicep.

"i want you to do that to me." you gave him an innocent look, and toji smirked at your request. he laid his arm flat on the bed and ushered you to rest your face.

you did so and as toji flexed his arm, your cheeks got squished and forced your lips into a pout. toji chuckled at the adorable sight of you and leaned his head down to press a tender kiss on your pouted lips.

"gonna marry you and make you mine forever."

[tasteleeknow]

strawberries

pairing: minho + jisung x fem!reader genre: smut. established relationship [boyfriend!minho]. boyfriend’s best friend [jisung]. content: 18+ minors dni. warnings below cut. word count: 5k

summary: your boyfriend catches his best friend moaning your name.

Minho and Jisung were practically a package deal. Your boyfriend had even brought his best friend along on your third date. “He’s feeling down,” he’d said, the only explanation he’d offered. Luckily, you liked him. He was a little reserved at first, only opening up when you’d been dating Minho a few months. You ended up spending a lot of time with him without Minho, waking up to find your boyfriend had left for work and spending the day with his roommate instead. He was sweet, made you laugh, and you shared a love of Ghibli. It wasn’t until a year into your relationship that Minho had brought his friend’s little crush to your attention. 

Minho drapes his arm over you now, pulling you back into his chest. His lips brush against the skin behind your ear as he speaks. “Caught him again,” he mutters. “Got home late and heard him gasping your name.”

warnings: afab!reader. profanity. pet names. possessive behaviour. perv behaviour. food play. unprotected intercourse [dirty talk, breast play/sucking, cum kink, breeding kink, sharing].

“I still don’t believe you,” you whisper, feeling your cheeks warm. He’d been trying to convince you of his friend’s crush for months, informing you of multiple occasions he’d caught him touching himself to the thought of you. Jisung wouldn’t do that, you’d argue. Minho would always laugh, squeezing your cheeks between his fingers and making cooing noises. You’d slap him off, quickly changing the subject. 

He wraps his leg around you. “Do you need me to prove it to you? Hm?” he says sweetly, one hand moving up to cup your breast. 

You should say no. “How…would you do that?” you ask instead. 

He chuckles. “Tease him. He’s incredibly obvious if you pay a little attention.” 

You wiggle in his hold, rolling until you're facing him—his limbs still wrapped around you. “You want me to flirt with your best friend?” 

“As long as you remember you’re mine,” he says, smiling. He leans forward pressing a firm kiss to your forehead. 

“Isn’t it a little…mean?” 

“Hm? Not if we reward him.” 

“Reward?” 

He brushes your hair from your face. “Don’t you think he’s pretty? I’ve noticed you looking.” 

You frown. “I don’t look.” Of course you’d noticed he was pretty. How could anyone not. 

“It’s okay, baby. You think I'm prettiest, right?” 

You wrap your arms around his neck, fingers brushing through his hair. “Fishing for compliments, again?”

“I’m asking you to try and seduce another man, I need a little reassurance.” 

“Yes, you’re the prettiest and I love you.” 

He nods, humming in approval. “Alright, then you can fuck him.” You huff you a startled laugh, face falling into his chest. When you look at him again the corner of his mouth is turned up, like it always did just before he caused chaos. “I’ll watch,” he adds. 

“You’re serious?” 

He hums, rolling onto his back and pulling you on top of him. “You’ve never heard him. He chants your name as he cums, so desperate. He wants you so bad, baby. It can be a Christmas present, hm?” 

You’d never considered it before. You never considered anyone else, completely fucking obsessed with the man under you. Now that you are picturing it, you can’t help taking him seriously. You imagine him sitting back against the headboard, stroking his cock to the sight of his friend friend fucking you. How could you not consider it seriously? You hum, pressing your lips to his. “Let me think about it,” you murmur. 

The next time you see Jisung you can’t get the conversation out of your head. He asks if you want to watch Howl’s Moving Castle with him, offering you one of the peperos he’s snacking on. You nod silently, taking the little stick from him and taking way too long to finish it, nibbling at it as you pay zero attention to the movie. He’s wearing one of his many sleeveless tanks, his black hair flopping down over his eyes. He was very pretty. He turns to look at you suddenly, catching you ogling him. 

“What?” he questions. 

“Do you want some nutella?” you ask. “For the pepero.” 

“Sure,” he says, returning his attention to the movie. 

You suck in a few deep breaths as you retrieve the jar, preparing yourself. When you settle yourself back on the couch again you’re close enough for your thighs to brush together. It wasn’t unusual, you’d grown close enough to him that you were a little touchy sometimes. You wrap your hand around the lid, feigning a small groan as you subtly tighten instead of loosening it. You eventually nudge him, holding the jar out to him. “I think Minho screwed it on too tight again,” you say as he takes it from you. 

A half eaten pepero hangs from his lips as he wraps his hand around it, biceps flexing as he pops it off easily—handing it back to you casually. “Thank you, Sungie,” you say, wrapping your fingers around his bicep and squeezing gently. His eyes drop to his arm for a moment and you feel his muscles flex just as you release him. 

Minho was right. He wasn’t subtle at all. His eyes are on you more than the film from then on, watching as you dip pepero into the jar then sucking the nutella off each one—pushing them in and out of your mouth a few times before nibbling. It convinces you to carry out Minho’s plan, whispering your agreement in his ear later that night as he buries his cock in you. He cums seconds later. 

When Minho buys you a new red bikini, you can predict what torture method he has planned for his friend today. He invites Jisung to the beach and reminds you to bring your sunscreen as he presses a kiss to your shoulder. When you arrive, you aren’t surprised at all when he shoves the bottle into Jisung's hands, asking him to help you while he sets up. Jisung stands there awkwardly, looking between you both until you feel sorry for him and beckon him over. “I can do it,” you say, taking the bottle from him and attempting to reach back over your shoulder to lather your upper back. 

“Help her!” Minho shouts after a moment, struggling with the beach umbrella. 

“Shut up!” you shout back, watching as your boyfriend smiles cheekily at you while his friend's back is turned. You roll your eyes. “Ignore him,” you say to Jisung, continuing to reach over your shoulder. 

“I can…I mean I can help,” he offers. “If you want.” 

“Yeah?”

He nods, his palm spread over his abs. “Thanks, Sungie.” You offer him a small smile and spread your towel down over the sand, laying yourself down onto your stomach. You close your eyes. It takes him a while to start. You imagine him kneeling beside you, looking back and forth between you and your boyfriend. Then his warm palms smooth over your shoulder blades, massaging the cream into your skin. You keep completely still, not wanting to spook him. He’s thorough, very thorough. You can’t help smiling into your elbow when he pauses, his fingers twitching a little at your lower back. Then he continues, his pinky finger nudging the hem of your bikini bottoms. 

“Think you got it all,” Minho says, startling the boy next to you. His hands are off you so quick you have to disguise your laugh as a cough, face still buried in your arms. You lift yourself onto your knees and after giving your boyfriend a quick glance, you wrap your arms around Jisung—pressing your chests together. 

“Thank you,” you say before sitting back, watching as his eyes flick down to your cleavage. 

“Swim?” Minho asks, helping you up. Jisung doesn’t stand. 

“I’ll come in a bit,” he says instead, hand positioned over his crotch. Minho nudges you as you make your way to the water. 

“He had a hard on,” he says once you're out of earshot. “In case you missed it.” 

“You’re evil.” 

He scoops you up in his arms. “And you’re hot.” 

You’re lounging on the couch, your fluffy socks resting in Jisung’s lap when the doorbell rings. He lifts your legs from his lap to get it, returning with a small package. You pull your knees to your chest so he can settle back into the lounge. “I don’t remember ordering anything,” he says, pulling his car keys from his pocket to slice the tape from the edges. When he digs into the box and his eyebrows shoot up, you know instantly this was Minho’s dirty work. He lifts something green and lacy, his fingertips holding it like it could explode on him at any moment. You drop your head back. Oh god. 

“Um, I think…maybe this is yours,” he says. You lift your head. He’s not looking at you, eyes in his lap as he holds the small package out to you. You take it from him, lifting the lingerie from the box to inspect it. It’s a one piece, kind of. A few pieces of lace connect the bra to the panties. A large emerald green bow made of ribbon sits at the back, just above where your ass would be. It’s pretty and you can imagine Minho asking you to keep it on as he fucks you, slipping the panties to the side so he can enter you. 

“I must have… used your account to order accidentally,” you offer in explanation. “I’m sorry.” 

He shakes his head. “It’s fine,” he says. “It’s pretty.” He snaps his eyes to yours suddenly, like he’s startled by his own words. His cheeks are red. “I mean…it’s a nice colour.” 

“You think so?” 

“I…uh…yeah.” 

You turn it around, showing him the big bow at the back. “Do you think the colour suits my skintone?” you ask. “It’s a little different to how it looked online.” 

He’s quiet and when you look up at him, his eyes are fixed on the fabric. “Jisung?” you prompt. 

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Yeah, it’ll suit you,” he says quickly. You offer him a small smile and he jumps off the couch, backing away from you slowly. “I should shower,” he says before turning and disappearing. Just like that. 

You wear it that night. Your boyfriend turns you over, his hands smoothing over your ass as he mutters to himself. “Bet he imagined you like this, wrapped up for him like a fucking gift, mm?” 

When he pulls the panties aside and pulls you down onto his cock he asks you to explain how his friend had looked when he’d opened it. Tell him again how red he’d gotten. How quickly he’d escaped. He groans into your neck. “He fucked himself to the thought of you like this, didn’t he baby? Imagined your hot cunt around him. Do you think he muttered your name again? Hm?” You cum with a whine, biting into his forearm as he mutters in your ear. 

Today is the day Minho announces, tugging you into a sitting position as you rub the sleep from your eyes. “Hm?” you question, hardly awake as he bounces around you. 

“I went to the market,” he says, lifting a bag up in front of your face. “Strawberries. Remember our second date when we went to that place that did chocolate fondue? First time we had sex,” he smiles. 

You drop back against the pillows, pulling the blankets up over your shoulders. “It’s too early for chocolate,” you mumble. 

He places the bag on the ground and climbs over you, pressing you into the mattress. “Tonight?” 

You wrap your arms around his neck, keep your eyes closed. “Yeah, sure.” 

“You still want to? Fuck him?” 

You hum, nodding. “He’s pretty.” 

“Not as pretty as me though.” 

“Mm, the prettiest,” you mumble. 

He presses his lips to your cheek then climbs off you, leaving you to drift back to sleep. 

You get home that night to find both men in the kitchen, a complete mess of ingredients and dirty dishes covering every inch of bench space. Jisung is the first to approach you, a big bowl of melted chocolate in his arms. “Look what we made, “ he says, proudly. You reach up to wipe some chocolate from the corner of his mouth, keeping eye contact as you push your thumb between your lips to suck it off. 

“It’s yum,” you say before casually walking past him to embrace your boyfriend. “You gonna clean this up?” 

“Later,” he says, pulling you tight against him. 

“Mm, now. Jisung and I will wait in the living room,” you say, smiling sweetly and kissing him on the cheek. “Where are the strawberries?” His eyes flick between yours, then over your shoulder. Then he releases you, turning to grab a bowl of strawberries and passing it to you. 

“Don’t…start without me,” he says. 

“We’ll save you some,” you say, huffing out a small laugh at his true meaning. When you turn, Jisung is still standing where you left him—eyes fixed on the chocolate in his arms. You brush his shoulder as you pass. “C’mon, Minho will clean.” 

He makes an effort to keep his eyes on the tv as you both take turns dipping the fresh strawberries into the chocolate, even when you lick the mess from your fingers. You’re starting to doubt tonight will be the night Minho had planned and then your boyfriend enters—shirtless. 

“You lose your shirt down the kitchen sink?” you ask. 

“Got hot,” he says, lifting you onto his lap as he takes your spot on the couch. Jisung shuffles a little away from you both, practically crushing himself against the armrest. Minho reaches for a strawberry from the bowl in his friend's lap then dips it in the chocolate and holds it to your lips. You take a bite, keeping eye contact with your boyfriend as you wrap your lips around it. His eyes drop to your lips then he tugs you a little closer to his torso. When you’re finished chewing he offers you his fingers, letting you suck the chocolate from them. He presses them in and out of your mouth slowly, the noise of the television white noise behind you. 

When you finish you turn to the man next to you, his eyes fixed on you. You take a strawberry, dip it in chocolate, then hold it up to him. “You want one, Sungie?” you offer. His eyes drop to the chocolate covered berry between your fingers, then to your boyfriend. Whatever he sees in Minho’s eyes gives him the courage to lean towards you and wrap his lips around the strawberry, his eyes on yours as he bites down. 

“Nice?” you ask. 

He nods and when he swallows you offer him your fingers. He looks at your boyfriend again then leans forward eagerly, wrapping his lips around you. A small noise escapes his throat. Minho adjusts you in his lap, making his hard cock apparent beneath you. You take turns feeding each other, giving up cleaning the chocolate from your mouths. You eventually lean forward and lick it from your boyfriend's lips, not bothering to hold back your small moans as you taste him. 

He stands up, lifting you with him and taking a few steps towards his bedroom. Then he turns, eyes fixing on his best friend on the couch. “You coming?” he asks. 

Jisung looks between you both, mouth opening and closing a few times. “What?” he eventually gets out.

“Do you wanna fuck my girlfriend?” Minho asks, tone confident and steady as always—like it was a completely normal thing to ask. You watch Jisung place the bowl next to him, then pick it up again. He stands, rocking back and forth on his feet. You tap Minho’s shoulder, prompting him to let you down. Then you approach the nervous looking, very pretty boy. 

You take the empty bowl from him, setting it down on the small table by your legs. “Would you like to have sex with us, Sungie?” you ask, trailing your finger down his arm. His wide eyes flick between yours, his tongue flicking out to lick his plush upper lip. 

“You…you want me to…” he trails off. 

“Only if you want,” you whisper. “Do you want to?” 

He nods quickly, then looks over your shoulder. “Yes,” he says. 

“Come on, then,” your boyfriend says. You take Jisung’s hand in yours, offering him a small smile before following your boyfriend to your shared bedroom. 

Your boyfriend settles himself against the headboard as you sit Jisung at the edge of the bed. “Should I wear that thing I bought the other day?” you ask him. He swallows, bouncing against the bed as he readjusts his position. 

“I, uh… if you want.” 

“Tell me what you want,” you say. “Do you want me to wear it?” 

“Y-Yeah,” he breathes. You turn and dig through your drawers. 

“Good choice,” Minho says from his position on the bed. “She looks like a little gift in that thing. You’ll love it.” 

“You’re really… okay with this?” Jisung asks as you find the lingerie. 

“You know I hear you, right?” your boyfriend says in response. “Heard you jerking your cock to the thought of her.” 

“I… didn’t…I mean I—” 

“I want you to fuck her,” Minho interupts. 

“Sungie?” you call, pulling his attention back to you just as you pull your sweatshirt over your head. You aren’t wearing anything underneath and he’s quiet as he takes in the sight of you half naked in front of him. You look over his shoulder as your boyfriend pulls the rest of his clothes off, revealing his hard cock. He begins stroking himself, his eyes fixed on you. “Should take your clothes off,” you mutter to Jisung as you pull your shorts down your legs. His eyes snap from your chest as he stands, clumsily pulling the fabric from his body as you step into the lacy, green one piece. 

“Come here,” Minho says. “You wanna watch her crawl towards you.” 

Jisung does what he says, crawling up the bed to settle beside his best friend. You stand at the end of the bed, taking in the sight of them both waiting for you.

“Pretty,” Jisung mutters. Minho smiles, looking you up and down like he’s proud of you—like you’ve just won an award and he’s watching you perform your acceptance speech. 

“Mm,” he hums, stroking himself. “She is, isn’t she?” 

You wonder if that’s what this is for him, an extension of his own praise kink—stretched out to include you. It makes you feel warm, the idea that he thought you so much a part of him that compliments towards you had the same effect as ones directed at him. He pats his lap, prompting you to crawl up the bed towards him and climbing into his arms. You moan into his mouth, aware of Jisung’s eyes on you both. 

When Minho pulls back, he turns you—lying you back against the pillows and settling himself between your legs. “Come here,” he says to Jisung, pushing your thighs apart. “Tell me what you think about.” 

Jisung looks up at you then his eyes drop between your legs, lips parting at the sight of Minho tracing his fingers lightly over you. “What do you think about when you’re fucking yourself to the thought of her?” Minho prompts, eyes fixed on yours. His eyes say: See? Told you I could prove it. You want to reach down and kiss the smug look off his face. 

“I-I don’t think I can…I mean…” 

“I want to hear, Sungie. It’s okay,” you offer. It’s clear he still hasn’t processed the situation he’s found himself in, not confident enough to answer Minho’s question plainly. 

“Do you think about her tits?” Minho asks. 

His friend’s eyes trail up your body, pausing on your chest. He nods. “What do you think about?” Minho asks, fingers slipping under the panties to press directly to your cunt. Your hips jump off the bed. You’d been distracted by Jisung, taken off guard by your boyfriend’s movement. 

“I think about…about sucking them as I fuck her,” he whispers, just loud enough for you to make out. 

Minho strokes you gently, his lips curving up. You’re prepared for what he says next. “You can suck them while I fuck her,” he says. “I’m gonna feel her first, then you can have a go, yeah?” Minho says. 

Jisung looks to his friend, nodding eagerly in agreement. 

“Come see her pretty little cunt first,” Minho says, slipping the panties to the side fully and shuffling aside so his friend can take his place between your legs. “Touch her,” he encourages. 

Your breathing is uneven now, squirming halted by your boyfriend's hands as Jisung inspects you. He’s quiet as he hesitantly lifts his finger to your folds then very gently brushes over you. Minho’s hand pushes you down a little harder when you attempt to roll into him, seeking friction. “Pretty, isn’t she?” he asks, keeping his eyes between your legs. “Look at her puffy little lips. Pretty hole fluttering for cock.”

“So pretty,” Jisung breathes as the tip of his finger prods gently against your entrance. He toys with you for a bit before you reach down and grab his wrist, holding him against you. 

“You like Sungie touching you, baby?” Minho asks sweetly. You nod, grinding against the hand you hold to your cunt. “You want him to suck your pretty tits?” You nod again, a small whine slipping from your lips. “Then you have to let him go, hm?” 

You drop Jisung’s wrist reluctantly, gripping the sheets beside you instead. 

“My good girl,” he says, resuming his place between your legs.

 Jisung shuffles up beside you. When he hesitantly reaches towards you, you guide him to your breast—waiting until he takes a firm grasp before letting go. “S’okay,” you encourage, eyes squeezing shut as the tip of your boyfriend's cock kisses your entrance. 

“You heard her,” Minho says to his friend, pushing his tip just past your entrance and retreating again. “Take it out,” he instructs.

Jisung pulls the fabric down, letting one of your breasts free from the lace. He doesn’t hesitate this time, leaning down and wrapping his plush lips around your nipple. Minho pushes inside you as your back arches off the bed, hands grasping your waist to hold you against him. His thick cock pushes through your walls as Jisung’s wet tongue laps at your breast. You want to suck your boyfriend dry for suggesting this to you all those weeks ago. He pauses when he bottoms out, eyes fixed on where his friend moans around your nipple. You lift your hand to tangle in his soft hair, holding him to your chest. His other hand moves to your stomach, smoothing up your skin to blindly pull the lace from your other breast so he can cover it with his palm. He groans a little when you tug his hair lightly. 

Minho begins rolling his hips after a moment. “Feel nice?” he asks, brows furrowed. You recognise this look. He was holding back. He wanted to fuck you hard and fast until he filled you, but he was resisting. 

“Mm. Thank you, baby,” you manage to get out, reaching down to cover his hand where he holds your hip and squeezing him gently. He closes his eyes, a low groan slipping from his throat as he drops his head back. You want to sit up and latch onto his neck, bared prettily for you. You tug Jisung's hair a little harder until he releases you. His lips are wet, eyes glassy as he looks to you for instruction. 

“Sit behind me?” 

He’s quick to obey, lifting you gently and settling you back against his chest. Minho falls over you, sandwiching you between both their bodies as he begins moving. You can kiss his neck like this, the taste of him on your lips as Jisung plays with your hair. “She feels so fucking good,” he mutters, clearly speaking to his friend. “Did you imagine her? How tight she is?” 

“Yeah,” Jisung breathes behind you. “She’s…she’s tight?” 

“Fucking gripping me…sucking me back in every time I try and pull out.” 

“Fuck,” Jisung groans, his hard cock pressed against you. You imagine him leaking with precum, his hips rolling a little as he attempts to get a little friction. You feel bad for him suddenly. 

“You gonna… let him…let him fuck me?” you mutter into your boyfriend’s neck. 

“Mm, baby. He can fuck my cum into you, yeah?” Jisung makes a choked noise behind you. “Gonna fill you up first,” your boyfriend finishes. You whine, nodding as you wrap your arms around his neck. “Sound good?” he asks his friend, lifting his head to look at the man pressed to your back. 

You don’t hear any response but when your boyfriend drops his face into your neck, laughing softly—you imagine he must have made a non-verbal agreement. That was another thing your boyfriend liked: cum. The first time he’d taken you raw you’d seen a whole new side of him, practically feral as he’d rutted into you and then sat back to watch his cum leak from your swollen cunt. It doesn’t surprise you at all that the idea of watching someone else fuck it back into you excited him. 

He pushes you into his friend harder as his pace increases, grunting into your neck with each thrust. You’re completely surrounded by warmth, above, behind and inside. It only adds to it when Minho releases, warm cum flooding you as he whines into your neck. You clench around him, helping him draw out his high as he opens his mouth and bites gently into your shoulder. 

Jisung plays with your hair clumsily as your boyfriend catches his breath, cock twitching against you. “Did he fill you?” he whispers, as if speaking any louder will disturb your fucked out boyfriend. 

“Mm,” you hum, “So well. Got me all sloppy for you,” you breathe. 

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he says, voice a little louder now. “So hot…you make me so hard.”

“Yeah?” 

“Sometimes I—” he cuts himself off, somehow still shy after your boyfriend fucked you against his chest. 

“Tell me,” you breathe. 

“I listen to you. I listen to him fuck you and imagine it’s me.” 

“Then you act all sweet to my face?” you huff out a tired laugh. 

“Sweet?” he questions.

You hum. “You’re always so sweet to me, Sungie.” His fingers brush over your scalp, pulling a soft moan from your throat. “So sweet.” 

Your boyfriend lifts his head from your neck, clearly recovered enough to rejoin the conversation. “You want him to fuck you sweetly?” he asks, one corner of his mouth pulled up into a small smirk. 

“He can fuck me however he wants.” 

“Hear that?” he says, lifting off you and then pulling you off his friend’s chest. He switches positions with him, settling himself back against the pillows and pulling you against him before spreading your legs for his friend. His finger traces through your folds as Jisung watches, prodding his cum back into you. “Fuck it back into her,” he mutters. “Tear the lace off her first.”

“Like… break it? Tear it?” 

“Mm, I bought it, don't worry.” 

Jisung looks at you for a moment, clearly remembering when you’d told him the green lingerie was your purchase. You have a feeling he’s going to make you pay for that as he reaches between your legs and tears the fabric apart with both hands. His biceps flex with the movement and you drop your head back into your boyfriend, closing your eyes. 

Minho presses small kisses to your neck as his friend pushes into you. “Talk to me,” he says, lips fixed to your skin. “Tell me how she feels.” 

“P-Perfect.” 

“Mm, perfect little pussy,” he mumbles into your neck. 

You’re struggling to keep a grip on everything happening around you, officially overwhelmed. Then, Jisung starts moving. He doesn’t hold back like your boyfriend had at first and the while Minho continues muttering into your neck, all you can hear is the sound of his best friend fucking a load of Minho’s cum into you. It’s wet and messy and it pushes you over the edge, squeezing Jisung’s cock as your walls contract around him. 

You’re vaguely aware of your boyfriend speaking. To his friend, you assume. Then Minho’s hand moves to your jaw, tilting your head so he can kiss you. You’re too fucked out to help him, letting him move his plush lips over yours as his friend fucks into you. “Min,” you whisper eventually. 

“Mm, my love?” 

“You’re so smart.” 

He laughs, pressing a kiss to your forehead then lowering your head to his chest—letting you go completely limp against him. “You gonna fill her up?” he says, hands stroking up and down your arms slowly. “I know that’s what you want most. I’ve heard you. “Always her name when you come all over yourself…right?” 

Jisung says nothing, eyes fluttering closed as his grip tightens on your hips. He pulls you down a little with the intensity of his movements, a physical reaction to Minho’s words. “Maybe I’ll let you have her again,” he continues. “Let you milk your cock with her instead of just jerking off to the thought of it.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, and you think he’s relenting—giving his friend a chance to catch his breath. Then he goes for the kill. “We’ve been talking about going off birth control…getting pregnant.” 

Jisung snaps his eyes to Minho, then to you—his hips stuttering into you. “Would you like to suck on her again? Once I’ve bred her.” That’s the end, one last pump deep inside and then he’s groaning. His cum joins your boyfriend’s, spilling out around his cock. You don’t have to see your boyfriend’s face to know how he looks, fucked out and cocky. He’ll take this as a win, wave it around in both of your faces for the foreseeable future. You couldn’t care less. 

please reblog and share your thoughts. caption, tags, replies, or ask box, i read it all. feedback is what motivates me to write more!

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[headkiss]

maybe this christmas time

pairing: steve harrington x sunshine!reader

summary: working as an elf during the holidays (which he isn’t a fan of) is not how steve would choose to spend his time, neither is doing a bucket list of your creation. you end up changing his mind.

word count: 9.5k

warnings: use of she/her pronouns for r, some grumpy steve (he’s still a softie underneath it, i can’t help it!), some family issues (a phone call from steve’s mom), a rude customer, christmas activities/themes, fluff, and a first kiss!

a/n: merry christmas and happy holidays from me to you!!! i hope u guys enjoy this one, i had a lot of fun writing it!! big big thank you to @bcyhoods for sending the request that inspired me to write this fic and to @bruisedboys who helped me out when i was unsure about things <333 ily guys i hope u all have the happiest of holidays!

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

Starcourt Mall is decorated to the brim. Fake snow and garlands, giant ornaments hanging from the ceiling, a Christmas tree that stays lit all day long.

And, in the middle of it all, Santa’s Workshop.

That’s where you are, where you’ve been for a couple of Decembers now. Every other month of the year, you work at the movie theater, scooping popcorn and scanning tickets. But, for December, you trade in your cinema t-shirt for an elf outfit, striped tights and all.

“It’s really not so bad once you get past the itching,” you tell Steve.

“Great,” he says, the sarcasm clear in his tone.

“Great,” you repeat, cheery enough for the both of you.

He wasn’t sure how it could get any worse than the sailor uniform. That is, until he saw what he had to wear for this gig.

It’s Steve Harrington’s first year at Santa’s Workshop, and you’ve been tasked with training him, though the job is mostly self-explanatory.

But unlike you, Steve didn’t volunteer for this.

“I can’t believe they picked me to do this,” he sighs. “Don’t even like elves.”

“Well they had to pick someone, Steve.” You shrug, “who knows, you might end up having fun!”

“Not likely.”

“At the very least, you’re getting paid, right?” You nudge him once with your elbow, “plus, if you’re extra nice, some moms give pretty good tips.”

You and Steve went to school together, but he never really spoke to you then. It was only after graduation that you had any sort of conversation with him. They mostly consisted of him bribing you with free ice cream to let Dustin and the gang into the movies for free.

That was after you caught him letting them into the back rooms to sneak in.

Now, Steve’s wearing a pair of slippers that jingle with every step just like yours, and in the only two shifts you’ve had together so far, you’ve spoken more than ever. Even if it’s mostly been instructions from you and an unenthusiastic comment in response from Steve.

“Do I really have to wear these fucking shoes?” He asks, following you out of the staff room.

“Yes. It’s part of the uniform.” You turn around to face him, walking backwards while he walks forwards. “Don’t worry, you’ll tune out the jingling soon enough.”

“I’ll hear these jingles in my nightmares.”

“At least you look cute!”

You spin back around, and Steve only rolls his eyes as he trudges on behind you.

Steve’s not quite sure how he feels about you, whether he finds you a little annoying or endearing. At the moment, with an elf hat squishing his hair, he’s leaning a little more towards the first.

He didn’t know you during school. Admittedly, he was an asshole for most of his time at Hawkins High, so that explains that. Even still, he doesn’t know much about you, only that you’re kind enough not to snitch on him for sneaking the kids into the movies and that you seem to seep sunshine all the fucking time.

And your sunshine seems to be dialed up during the holidays. Like you really believe in ‘holiday cheer.’

Steve knows, deep down and buried somewhere he’s not quite ready to face yet, that he’s mostly just jealous. Because if you like the holidays so much, if you’re smiling the way you do so often, you must have it pretty good at home.

To him, nothing else makes sense. Not when Christmas at the Harrington household has been absolute shit for years. First, it was the gifts he never wanted, things his parents didn’t care enough to know he didn’t like. Then, they dwindled until, eventually, Christmas did, too.

There’s a travel discount during the holidays, sweetie. We’re visiting dad’s boss’ cabin. Next year, we promise. Excuse, excuse, excuse.

So yeah, Steve’s never really understood the appeal. Walking behind you in a pair of jingling shoes and a scratchy outfit, he’s not sure he ever will.

You lead him towards the area where Santa’s Workshop has been set up, right by the fountain. There’s bright red carpet rolled out over the usual tiled floors, an area set up for the cue of families, and of course, a bench where some guy playing Santa will sit.

“Since we’re opening today I’ll show you the whole set-up routine.” You step over the rope with the sign that says ‘Gone to feed the reindeer!’ with Steve in tow. “Easy peasy.”

Steve steps over the rope behind you, shaking his head at the sound his shoes make when he lands. He chooses to listen to your voice instead.

“First, we count the props,” you nod over at the bin that’s tucked away behind a small tree, “there should be four sets of antlers, two santa hats, a red nose, and some extra elf hats.”

He stares at you—because why on earth would you have that memorized—and raises his eyebrows. For a moment, as he watches you grab the clipboard that sits atop the prob bin and start counting, Steve wonders if maybe he should be more like you. The kind of person who seems to see the good in everything.

Then, he remembers what the outfit he’s got on looks like and shakes the thought away.

“Why would anyone want to be a clown in these pictures?” He says.

“The red nose is for Rudolph, dummy.”

You say dummy with a smile, like it’s something to admire. Steve huffs.

“Rudolph’s a loser.”

“Aw, come on, he’s got his own song and everything! I’d say that makes him the opposite of a loser.”

“Of course you would,” he mutters, cursing the tiniest twitch of a smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth. “What’s next?”

“Right,” you grab the bag that you brought from the staff room and set it on the ground by the tripod that’s already set up. “Next is the camera. Here, I’ll show you.”

The only knowledge Steve’s got of cameras comes from whatever Jonathan has told him, which hasn’t been very much, considering the pair’s history on the topic despite them being friends now.

So, he steps closer to you, watches as you pull the camera out of the bag.

“You just have to switch it on and make sure the battery’s full, right there,” you say, pointing at the small symbol that lets you know if the camera’s charged or not. “And don’t forget to take the lens cap off. I did it once and this dad yelled at me, so...”

You pop the lens cap off, putting it in the bag. Steve’s standing close to you, right behind you, his chin hovering over your shoulder, the warmth of his chest just shy of brushing against your back.

“Finally,” you continue, ignoring the little skip in your heartbeat, the way you breathe just a tiny bit quicker. “Set it up on the tripod, and you’re good to go.”

He watches your fingertips move easily, securing the camera to the tripod. When you’re done, you turn around to face him, and it’s only then that Steve realizes how close he’s gotten.

Close enough that you stumble and land against his chest, his hands on your upper arms to steady you as you pull back quickly, like you’d been burned. Steve, however, doesn’t let go just yet and he’s got no idea why.

He doesn’t let go until the music in the mall is switched on, the opening notes of some Christmas song startling you both. Steve steps back and releases you, dropping his hands by his sides and ignoring the twitch of his fingers.

“Alright,” you say, trying to brush the moment off. “That sound means we’re open. You ready?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Nope!”

-

Your lunch breaks at Santa’s Workshop feel like a luxury, because no matter how much you enjoy the job, it’s nice to get away from the rowdy children it forces you to deal with.

Unlike your job at the theater, where your breaks are staggered, the workshop closes for an hour every day, meaning that even during lunch, Steve’s stuck with you.

The sign by the line for Santa is flipped, and parents groan whenever they see the festive font saying you’ll be back in an hour.

You take the hour spent in the staff room as a time to ask him questions, what his hobbies are (“does driving a pack of 13-year-olds around count?”), if he likes his job at Scoops (“I’m starting to appreciate it more. The lesser of two evils, or something”), if he’d introduce you to Robin someday (“I’m afraid of what that might do to my sanity.”)

Today, you’re trying to tackle the subject of his Grinch-like tendencies.

“What’s your favorite Christmas movie?” You ask.

Steve doesn’t know why he continues to answer your questions whenever you throw them at him—which is often—but he does. He thinks it might be like being mean to a puppy, ignoring you. Unnecessarily cruel.

“Don’t have one.”

“Ugh. Come on, Steve! Everyone has a favorite.” You slump in your seat across from him at the small table in the break room. Steve stares at you blankly as he takes another bite of his lunch. “You can tell me.”

“I’m serious,” he says, nudging your foot with his when it comes close. “They’re cheesy.”

“Aren’t you secretly a rom-com fan?”

“How did you-”

“So, you actually enjoy cheesy movies!”

“Okay, well you don’t have to say it to the entire mall. Gosh.”

Steve wonders how you know that about him, how you’ve been able to guess a lot of things without him telling you. Briefly, just for a second, he wonders if that might mean something.

Like, if maybe you’re in his life now for a reason.

“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me, Steve.” You smile what you hope is an honest, reassuring smile. “So, the cheesiness isn’t the root of the issue.”

“No, I guess not.”

“I’m gonna take a guess here,” you start, “and say that you’re not a fan of Christmas.”

“You’re not gonna let this go, are you?”

“Steve, I’ve never heard someone complain about jingle bells so much in my life.”

“We can’t all behave like we’ve been injected with sunshine.”

You don’t think he means it as a compliment, but you decide to take it as one nonetheless. But you suppose he’s right, there’s always gotta be a balance. Dark and light, happy and sad.

“Thank you,” you give him a quick grin. “And you’re avoiding the question.”

He’s silent for a moment, twisting his fork around between his fingers. “My parents never really did Christmas.”

Your heart squeezes a little in your chest at his words, at the way his tone goes quieter, at the way he looks at the table to avoid catching your eye.

Immediately, you feel guilty for prying, because the last thing you’d ever wanted to do was force him to tell you something he didn’t want to. It’s not your place, no matter how curious you are, no matter how much you’d like to give him a hug or something right about now.

It’s not your place, but you find yourself wishing it could be.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Steve.” You reach for his hand that sits on the table and give it a quick squeeze before pulling back. “You don’t have to talk about it. I shouldn’t have bugged you.”

“It’s okay. I’ve had a lot of time to accept it.” He shrugs, like it doesn’t affect him. But from the scrunch in his brows, you can tell it does, at least a little bit. “The Harringtons have better things to do than sit around cleaning up wrapping paper.”

Steve feels embarrassed, his cheeks warm and his head bent. He doesn’t like scraping this wound open, doesn’t like to think about what he was missing out on while everyone thought his life was perfect.

He especially doesn’t want you looking at him like he’s injured or something after this.

Surprisingly to Steve, you don’t. You actually do quite the opposite. You smile brightly at him, like you’ve just had an excellent idea, like you can inject a bit of your sunshine into him with it.

“How about this: I’ll teach you how great Christmas can be.”

“I think it might be a little late for that.” Steve tries to shake his admission away, to clear the room. He points at the elf hat on his head, “this outfit has ruined any last shred of hope I had.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that you make a cute elf? You pull it off better than I do.”

“You don’t have to lie to me.”

“I’m not!” Steve raises his eyebrows at you. You ignore that look. “Whatever. I cannot in good conscience, let you keep disliking Christmas. Think of how fun it could be. Plus, you owe me for all of those movies I let your children into.”

Steve already finds it difficult to say no to you, because of how kind you remain even when he’s snarky with you, because of the same kindness you seem to offer to everyone you meet.

So, even though he’s not sure what your plan entails, he sighs and says: “okay. Fine.”

“Wait, really?”

“Don’t make me change my mind.”

You cheer, clapping a little in your seat. “Oh my gosh, we can go skating, and go to one of those Christmas light festivals, and make cookies-”

“What did I get myself into?” Steve mutters, while you’re still rambling off ideas.

“-I’m gonna need to make a list.”

Even after your break ends, you seem to have an extra pep in your step, if that’s even possible. Your smile is a bit wider, your eyes brighter, and Steve can’t help but feel a little special for being somewhat responsible for that.

Really, what did I get myself into, he wonders.

-

In the time between him agreeing to your Christmas plans a couple of days ago and now, at yet another shift, Steve has realized that he actually likes you quite a bit. Even though your seemingly constant optimism drives him a little bit crazy.

You treat everyone with an attitude that’s so rare, he finds that his previous annoyance for you is slowly becoming overtaken by the endearment.

He won’t admit it, not when bantering with you seems to be the highlight of his days lately, but Steve is starting to be sort of grateful that he got selected for this job.

And that has absolutely nothing to do with the outfit he wears. He still fucking hates that.

“It’s alright, cutie,” he hears your voice say, all soft and understanding. He finds you, crouched down to talk to a little girl who seems to be wary of Santa. “I bet Santa will give you something extra from your list if you smile for the picture.”

The girl nods, like she’s determined. But, when you stand back up, she grabs onto your hand by your side.

“What is it?” You ask her.

“Can you do it with me?”

You look over to the girl’s mother where she stands to the side, and she nods, eager to get the picture done. So, with that, you say, “okay, then.”

Steve’s standing behind the camera as he watches you help the girl onto the bench beside Santa. Then you’re sitting beside her and telling her to look at the nice boy behind the camera.

It takes him a second to realize you’re talking about him, but when he does, he forces himself into action, bending to look through the viewfinder.

“Say cheese,” he says.

The click of the camera sounds, and then it’s done. You help the girl down, who goes over to her mom quickly and they head over to grab their picture.

Once they’re gone, the line dies down, giving you and Steve a rare pause from the pictures and overenthusiastic welcomes to ‘the North Pole.’

“I hope that family’s okay with my face in their picture,” you say, coming to stand beside Steve by the camera. “I mean, I know the mom nodded, but maybe they’ll cut me out of it.”

You’ve become more comfortable with Steve the more you’ve worked with him, getting to know him in how his grumpiness is more related to the holidays and early mornings than anything else, in how he turns the same grumpiness down when he talks to the kids.

You think he’s grown more comfortable with you, too, because he’s started bringing you a coffee in a festive cup in the morning, leaving it in your cubby without a word.

From Steve, you think that says a lot. His actions have always spoken louder than his words, you think. Like the free ice cream he gives you from Scoops, or the small nod he’d give you whenever he’d pick up the kids from a movie.

And now, there’s the small tug of his lips, the hint of a smile that has you saying, “Steve Harrington are you smiling right now?”

“Shut up,” he shakes his head at you. “That was sweet. What you did for that girl.”

Steve lets himself say what he thinks for once, because there’s nobody else around, because he wants you to hear it.

You hide your shy smile by looking down at your feet. You know that underneath everything, Steve is probably one of the best boys you’ve ever met, because even with his attitude, he’ll never say anything to truly hurt you, and with how little you know about his family, you also know that it’s rare for someone in his situation to remain so good.

Any resemblance of a compliment from Steve feels extra special, like its own gift in itself.

“Ruining her picture, you mean?” You ask, trying to cover up how you feel about him calling you sweet.

“You didn’t ruin that picture, sunshine.”

Sunshine. That’s new.

“Well I’m glad someone thinks so.”

Before Steve has the chance to respond, the line picks up again, and it’s back to business as usual. The routine click of the camera, the sound of parents telling their kids to smile nice and big.

You and Steve catching each other’s eye when a particularly entertaining family rolls around, laughing at the way he does an impression of a mom after she leaves. With work being sort of like this every day, you wish it could be Christmas all year round. You much prefer this to the theater, you think.

Steve can't say that he likes this job more than Scoops—Robin might call him traitorous—but he finds that you’d been at least a little right when you said that it would get better when he got used to things, when he hears the sound of your laugh rather than those stupid bells on his shoes.

He finds that he sometimes has to remind himself that he doesn’t like the holidays, that they aren’t like this all the time.

At the end of your shift, as you and Steve grab your stuff from the staff room, you turn to him, leaning against the wall as he shrugs on his coat.

“So, I made a list,” you say. “We are going to have the best Christmas ever, Harrington.”

“My standards are very low, so it wouldn’t take much.”

“Don’t care. I have plans. We can make gingerbread houses and get Christmas pajamas-”

“Absolutely not.”

While Steve already agreed to letting you show him Christmas your way, he thinks he can only take so much at a time. Small doses of your jolly spirit are plenty.

“Steeeve.”

“I am drawing the line. No Christmas pajamas. Not happening.”

“But the gingerbread houses are a yes?” You ask, hopeful and smiling like it’ll persuade him.

“I’ll get back to you on that one.”

That’s what Steve decides to say, instead of simply agreeing because he finds that he’d like to spend time with you outside of work, to see if you’re really so bright all the time, to see if he can soak it up a little better when he’s not dressed as a damn elf.

That’s what he decides to say because it’s easier than spilling the rest of it out there. Much, much easier.

“But you already agreed!” You pout at him a little, exaggerated dramatics on your part. “You can’t just tell me I can teach you Christmas and then back out, I mean, I made an actual bucket list. With glitter and shit.”

“Oh no, not the glitter,” Steve places a hand on his chest, sarcastically scandalized. “That makes it serious.”

You blink at him, giving him a blank look. “Don’t diss the list. By the end of it, you’re gonna be jolly as fuck, trust me.”

“Jolly as fuck,” he repeats, shaking his head on a laugh. “You’ve got a way with words, sunshine.”

“Thank you.” You push your tote bag onto your shoulder, fishing out your keys, they clink in your palm when you find them. “I’m not letting you back out of this, by the way. The list is binding.”

“Well in that case…”

You give Steve a little smile, the flash of a sunbeam, before heading out, and he’s left standing in the break room wondering what you’ve got on that list, why you seem to care so much about it.

Huffing, he supposes he’ll find out soon enough.

-

Steve definitely should not have told you that he’d never been ice skating before.

It all started when you’d been talking about that damn list at your most recent shift, a couple of days after he’d accepted the fact that he couldn’t back out of it (did he really want to?).

“Hey, you have a change of clothes in your bag, right?” You’d asked him in between families.

“Um… yeah. Why?”

“Because, Steve, our festivities begin today after work!” You clapped your hands together softly, excited and encouraging, yet delicate. “I haven’t quite decided what we’re starting with yet.”

“I thought you had a list.”

“I do! But it’s not in order,” you shrugged, “I’m more of a mood-based decision maker, anyways.”

“Of course you are,” he’d said, his usual sarcasm lighter, laced with something you couldn’t quite place.

“So I’m thinking we go skating-”

“Nope.”

“You can't say no to every idea I have. Then how will you get the Christmas experience?”

“I won’t say no to everything.” You looked at him like you didn’t believe him, so, quietly, he added, “it’s just, I’ve never been skating before.”

“Steve, that’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” you reassured him easily, your voice honest in a sort of natural way, like you couldn't lie even if you tried. “All the more reason to give it a try. The point is to have fun, not to be good at it. I’m really not that great, myself.”

“If I hate it, we’re leaving.”

“Deal.”

And that’s how he’d ended up here, standing next to you at the rental counter at the ice rink, telling some teenager his shoe size so he could get a pair of skates.

Steve looks at you as you talk to the teenager, paying before he even gets the chance. He looks at the hat you’ve got on your head, the way your jeans are cuffed just enough to let your snowman patterned socks peek out of your boots.

He realizes that he’s only ever really seen you in uniform, at the theater and as an elf, and he thinks, quickly, like a car driving by, that you look really pretty like this. With snowflakes stuck in your eyelashes and all.

Though he’s never said it, barely let himself think it, he’s always found you pretty in a sort of undeniable way, like it was just a fact. Now, he finds you pretty in a way that makes him feel it.

His heart beats like it feels it, too. The traitor.

“Thank you,” you say, grabbing both your and Steve’s pairs of skates. You turn to him, smiling like always, Christmas lights reflected in your eyes, “ready to go?”

“As I'll ever be,” he says, letting you lead the way to the benches by the rink.

He watches the way you tie your skates, copying your movements on his own pair, double knotting the bow at the end. When you stand, he stays seated for a moment, suddenly more nervous than before, because the last thing he wants to do is embarrass himself in front of you, in front of everyone around.

Like you can read his mind, you say, “it’s okay, the first step is only standing. It looks harder than it is, promise.”

“I feel like you’re lying to make me feel better.”

“Why don’t you just stand up and find out, then?”

He rolls his eyes, more at himself than you, and pushes himself up from the bench. It takes him a second to get used to the feeling of the skates, of balancing on them, but eventually, he nods at you, eager to get it over with.

“‘Kay, so it’s gonna feel weird when you step on the ice, but you can just hold onto the side until you get the hang of it.” You start walking ahead of him, turning back to say, “I have a feeling you’ll be a natural.”

“Sure you do,” he mutters, shaking his head.

The rink is outdoors, the walls surrounded with string lights of all kinds, twinkling and colorful. In the middle, there’s a big tree, a shining gold star sat on top. There’s a hot chocolate stand to the side, the smell mingling with the freshness of the cold.

There are Christmas songs playing over the speakers (of course), and Steve thinks that if he hears one more rendition of “Jingle Bell Rock,” he’ll have to invest in a pair of ear plugs. On top of that, there’s the sound of laughter, kids with their parents, friends, couples, everyone seems to be having fun.

Everyone seems to be at ease except for him.

You step onto the rink first, skating a couple of steps forward to give Steve room to get on. He holds onto the side like you told him to, lifting a foot and stepping forward slowly, his foot slipping a little when it hits the ice.

You don’t say anything, don’t pressure him, only stand there with a kindness in your eyes that tells him you won’t be anything but patient.

Still, he doesn’t take too long to get the other foot on the ice, too, his feet carrying him forward a little bit, his hand gripping the side tighter.

“See? It’s not so bad,” you skate to his side, leaving space between you as Steve holds out his arm for balance. “Now all you gotta do is push yourself forward.”

“You make it sound like it’s easy.”

“It’s called being encouraging, Steve. Let me be encouraging!”

“Fine,” he stares down at his feet, his hair falling over his forehead. “So what do I do?”

“Use one foot to push, and then let yourself glide, switch feet, and repeat. You can do it.”

He gives it a go, and finds that it isn’t awful, but he moves slowly, and looking around at the other people skating, he’s not an impressive skater at all.

Steve has always felt the urge to be good at everything he does, basketball, driving, even fucking babysitting. He’s always tried so hard to do things well, like maybe, if he was talented enough, his parents would care more, would finally be proud of him for something.

He swallows that thought down and pushes forward again.

You follow his speed, gliding easily beside him, “look at you go!”

“I look like an idiot,” he says, his arm outstretched beside him, the other gripping the side, his knees bent.

When you look at him, though, all you see is the pink of his cheeks and nose from the cold, the way his hair brushes against his forehead, the focus in his eyes, the determination. No, you don’t think he looks like an idiot at all.

“You look like you’re trying, and that’s a great look on you, Steve.”

This time, it isn’t only the cold that pinkens his cheeks.

He doesn’t have time to muster up a reply, because the next time Steve skates ahead, he stumbles, his balance wavering until he feels your hand grabbing onto his arm to help steady him.

Then, your hand moves to hold his, and even through the layers of both of your gloves, he feels the warmth in his fingertips, some sort of tingling.

“This way, if you fall, so do I,” you say, squeezing his hand once, winking at him like the thought of falling doesn’t scare you one bit.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Super sure.”

You hadn’t been lying on that one, because eventually Steve does fall, and you fall right along with him, landing on the ice with a little, “oop!”

On his back, Steve turns his head to look at you, your hair a mess around you, some on your cheeks. He reaches out and brushes it away.

“You okay, sunshine?”

The response he gets is the sound of your laughter, a single loud cackle that has your eyes widening and a hand smacking over your mouth.

Your laughter fades into a fit of giggles, one so infectious that Steve—surrounded by all kinds of Christmas-themed things he swore he hated—laughs along with you.

And for the first time, maybe in his entire life, Steve thinks that the holidays might not be the worst thing ever.

-

Steve’s in a bad mood today, that scrunch in his brows you'd thought had been easing away back in full force.

It’s your first shift back together since you’d been skating only a couple of days ago, and you can’t help but worry that maybe it was too much, that you’d pushed him too far.

Even though, at the time, he’d been smiling more than you’ve seen him smile maybe ever, and you really thought that you had a shot at making Christmas better for him. You worry that he wasn’t as happy as he seemed, that he was pretending to have fun for your sake.

Steve, on the other hand, is actually glad to be at work for once, glad for the distraction it gives him. He’s unaware that his emotions are so visible on his face, that you think an ounce of his annoyance and anger is aimed at you.

All he knows is that after the morning he had, he needs this distraction.

This morning, it wasn’t the beep of his alarm that had woken him up, but the shrill ring of the phone on his bedside table. Groggy, with his eyes still half shut, Steve picked up the phone.

He wishes he didn’t.

“Hello?” His voice was almost a groan, scratchy from sleep, irritated at being woken up earlier than his alarm.

“Steve, sweetie!” His mother’s voice made him squint his eyes shut further. “Why do you sound so tired?”

“‘Cause it’s six in the morning, mom.”

“Oh, silly me. I forgot about time zones,” she said, though she didn’t sound the least bit apologetic. She didn’t even care enough to know what time it was for her son. “Anyways, I’m calling to let you know your father and I won’t make it home for Christmas this year. There’s this banquet we just can’t miss. You understand, don’t you?”

Steve doesn’t know why he’d been surprised, doesn’t know why her words, completely devoid of any kind of empathy towards the situation, made his stomach hurt.

“Yeah, okay,” he’d said, because it was no use to do anything but agree.

This was his normal: an almost monthly phone call from one of his parents from wherever they are in the world, no matter the time, always telling him that they’re missing this holiday, his birthday (which, at this point, he was shocked they even remembered), anything.

“That’s my boy,” she’d said, as if she knew him at all. She didn’t. Hasn’t known him—or cared to—for a long time. “I knew you’d understand.”

“Right.”

“Oh, there’s your father. Gotta go.”

And just like that, she hung up.

Steve almost wishes that they’d never call at all, because maybe then it would be easier to swallow their neglect. If they’d just forget him completely, he could get rid of that stupid, tiny sprout of hope he feels whenever they call, hoping things will be different.

At least it was his mother this time, he thinks. His father is a hundred times worse, only ever disappointed in Steve, asking about his job or when he plans on ‘getting a real life,’ never about him.

So yeah, Steve’s in a bad mood today.

The two of you don’t talk for the majority of your shift, you, afraid that Steve’s angry with you, opting to give him space, and Steve, stewing in every negative emotion that comes along with a phone call from his parents.

You don’t talk until one of the last families in line for the day comes up.

Once the kids are in place, you lean down to look through the viewfinder, counting them down and snapping the picture when they say ‘cheese.’ To the side, the children’s mom looks at you with so much judgment, Steve, even brewing in his thoughts, notices.

With the picture taken, you take the camera over to the mom, letting her see the picture the way you do with all the parents, making sure they approve.

Instead of approval, what you get is, “what the hell is that?”

You’ve dealt with your fair share of rude customers, at every job you’ve had, but this woman all but screams at you, and that’s rare. “Sorry,” you say, “I can take a new one, no problem.”

“I better be getting the new one for free with how these pictures are looking,” she practically hisses at you.

Usually, you can handle stuff like this, can smack on a smile and politely agree to get things taken care of, but today, the mixture of all your self-doubt and worrying about messing things up with Steve and this mother shouting at you, things pile up, and you feel your happy mask slipping.

“Um,” you start, voice small.

“You elves get worse every year,” she says to you. “I can’t believe people this incompetent even exist.”

Steve, hearing the whole thing, is quick to step in front of you, any thoughts about his shitty parents quickly fading in favor of helping you.

“Excuse me, ma’am, but she already offered to take another picture, and if that isn’t good for you, you’re free to leave,” Steve’s voice doesn’t slip one bit, standing his ground with every word.

You’re overwhelmed with everything going on, and when Steve turns around to look at you, nodding his head towards the staff room, you take the escape he offers you quickly, eyes blurry with tears you won’t let fall until you’re alone.

“You can’t speak to me like that!” The woman stomps her foot.

“I can, actually. She,” he points in the direction you’d gone, “is the kindest person I know, and you shouldn’t speak to her that way. I understand the holidays are a stressful time for everyone, but we spend all day helping people like you take these pictures, and the least you could do is say ‘thank you.’”

Rather than respond, the woman takes her children’s hands and stomps off.

Steve turns to find that the few families that had been in line before have decided to leave, and he takes the emptiness of Santa’s Workshop as an opportunity to follow after you.

He finds you sitting on the bench beneath your cubby in the break room, head buried in your hands, sniffling a little like you’re trying to be as quiet as possible. Steve can’t think about anything other than how much he hates seeing you upset, like a cloud covering the sun.

“Hey,” he says gently, sitting beside you on the bench. “Don’t listen to any of that. She was a bitch.”

You’re both grateful and unhappy that Steve came after you. Grateful because he’s kind, because he’s showing you that he cares. Unhappy because you’re embarrassed of him seeing you like this, because he calls you sunshine and you don’t feel like that right now.

It takes a second before you move your hands, wiping at your cheeks before turning to look at Steve, his brown eyes already on your face, unbelievably soft.

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I don’t know why I’m crying. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not,” he assures you. “She was awful to you after a long enough day. You have every right to be upset.”

“You’re being really nice,” your voice breaks a little bit, fighting any more tears that threaten to spill.

“I can be nice. I should be nicer to you.” He knows he should, but with Christmas and everything, it’s easy for him to be grouchy. “You sound surprised.”

“It’s just,” you shrug, almost defeated. “I thought you were mad at me today.”

Steve’s heart fucking aches at the sound of your voice, all small and lacking of the light he’s somehow come to like so much. And when another tear slips down your cheek, he can’t stop himself from reaching out and holding your face in his hands, thumbing the tear away lightly.

“I don’t think I could ever really be mad at you, sunshine.”

“Oh.”

His hands are warm where they hold your cheeks, a thumb still tracing back and forth over your skin. Not mad, then.

“I, uh,” Steve looks at where his thumb brushes against you, like he can’t believe it’s there, like he doesn’t want to look into your eyes for the next part. “I got a call from my mom this morning. They’re not coming home this year. Again. I shouldn’t be surprised but… anyways. That’s why I’ve been so quiet and shit today. Not because of you.”

One of your hands comes up to lay over his where it sits on your cheek, tangling your fingers with his and moving your hands down to your lap.

“I’m sorry, Steve.”

“I’m the one who should be sorry. I shouldn’t take this stuff out on you just because you like Christmas and I don’t.”

You smile a little bit, a twitch of your lips, but Steve takes it as a win all the same.

“I’m gonna change that,” you say.

“Sure you will,” he replies, the sarcasm in his voice still there the way it usually is when he teases you, but this time, he’s smiling, too.

-

Steve told you to go home after that, assuring you that he’d take care of the few families left, and when you’d opened your mouth to tell him you were fine, you could stay, he’d pinned you with a look and told you again to let him do it.

So, you did.

You’d thought it would be a day at least until you’d see Steve again, but it’s only a couple of hours after your shift ends.

There’s a knock at your door, your apartment one of the ones built above a shop on Main Street, and even though you have no idea who it could be, you get up, sock-covered feet padding against the floor as you go over to answer it.

You’re surprised to find Steve on the other side—one, because you don’t think you’ve ever told him where you live, and two, because you didn’t think he’d want to see you more today than he already had—a bag in his hand and a shy sort of question on his face.

“Steve? What are you doing here?”

He scratches at the back of his neck with his free hand before responding, a nervous gesture that he hasn’t been able to get rid of. “I thought that maybe, after the day you’ve had, you could use some cheering up. I could, too.”

You remember him telling you about the phone call from his parents, and something in your stomach flutters a little when you realize that his plans to cheer up involve you of all people.

“Okay.” You smile, you can’t really help it, “come in, then.”

He does, closing the door behind him and toeing off his shoes before stepping inside any further. Steve spots your kitchen table easily, and moves to set the bag he’s holding down.

“I thought we could do another thing that might be on your list,” he says. Steve tugs things out of the bag, gingerbread house kits, to be exact. “Gingerbread houses are Christmas bucket list worthy, right?”

“Absolutely,” you search his face, a little confused because last you heard, Steve was not into your whole bucket list thing, but here he is. “And you’re doing this… voluntarily?”

“I have the receipt. I can return them, if you prefer.”

“No! Don’t do that. I just mean- I thought you didn’t like Christmas or my list and that you were just playing along to be nice.”

“I might not be the biggest fan of Christmas, but,” he shrugs, opening one of the boxes of gingerbread, “you’re a good teacher, sunshine.”

You resist the urge to pinch yourself, like you might be dreaming because Steve, who you’ve grown to like an embarrassing amount, is here, offering to do this with you and giving you a compliment like it’s nothing.

When you respond, you hope your voice doesn’t give away how you really feel. Excited, happy, your heart jumping. “Can I get that in writing?”

“Shut up.” He shakes his head, pointing to the unopened box, “now will you come build this gingerbread house or what?”

“Mine’s gonna be way prettier than yours.”

Steve simply rolls his eyes, but there’s the hint of a smile there, too. He’s happy to see that your light is back, that you didn’t let what happened at work get to you too much.

You sit down beside each other at your table, gingerbread kits laid out in front of you. Icing and sprinkles, a cookie roof and chimney. You’re sure it’ll leave a mess, but right now you don’t mind.

There’s a sort of lightness in the air, the knowledge that this thing—friendship, more, whatever it is—between the two of you is something that you’re both happy to bask in. It’s unspoken, and that doesn’t bother you.

You and Steve start by unpacking all of the pieces, yours laid out neatly, his in a leaning pile that makes you bite back a laugh.

“The fucking roof won’t stay on,” Steve says once you’ve both started to put the houses together, and he sounds genuinely annoyed about it.

“Just put some more icing on it,” you say, “there’s no such thing as too much.”

“I don’t think icing will save me now, sunshine.”

You look away from your own gingerbread house over to Steve’s. His hands are holding the roof up, pushing them together so they meet at the top, and he’s staring at the thing with so much determination that you can’t help but giggle.

“You laughing at me?” Steve quirks a brow at you, but there’s a shine in his eyes. They smile even when his mouth doesn’t.

“I can’t believe you’re taking this so seriously,” you laugh, and that smile of his spreads slowly on Steve’s face, blooming like a flower. “It’s alright to admit defeat, Steve. My house is already better than yours.”

“Woah, this isn’t over yet, alright? Mine just needs time, don’t you worry.”

“Whatever you say, Steve.”

“Someone’s feeling brave tonight,” he teases, nudging you with his elbow without letting go of the roof of his house. “Don’t speak too soon, sunshine. I could be the underdog here.”

You lean over with your icing bag in hand, piping some more into the gap in Steve’s roof. “Here, let me help.”

Steve—always reluctant to accept help of any kind, even the smallest things—lets you. While he watches your face as you pipe the icing, the focus, the way your tongue pokes out from between your lips, you take his distraction as an opportunity to move, letting your icing fall onto his hand instead of the house.

“Oops,” you shrug, your tone suggesting that it wasn’t a mistake at all.

Steve gasps overdramatically, then leans closer to you, “Oh, looks like you’ve got something right there.” His hand reaches for your face, and he spreads the icing from it onto your cheek.

“You’re done for, Harrington.”

He only laughs, bright and quick.

Before you know it, you’re having some sort of food fight, putting a dot of icing on Steve’s nose, him tossing sprinkles at you. It’s a mess, but all you can hear is Steve’s laughter, all you can see is his smile. Unguarded for once, free and genuine.

By the time it dies down, there’s stripes of icing on your cheeks, red and green sprinkles scattered about the floor and on the table, and Steve’s got his own patches of icing to deal with.

“You better help me clean this, Harrington,” you say, your giggles still spilling, fizzling out softly. “What are we gonna decorate these houses with now?”

“Mine’s a lost cause,” he admits, the pieces now in a pile the way they’d started.

“So I won, is what I’m hearing.”

Steve looks at you, at the sparkle in your eyes that had been dimmed earlier at work, at the smile that spreads across your face when his eyes meet yours. Fuck. He thinks you’re completely beautiful, icing across your face and all.

His gaze snags on a piece of green in your hair, and before he can think about it, he reaches up and tugs it out for you.

“Sprinkle,” he says.

You look at his hands, messy from the gingerbread houses but never any less strong, and you remember how they felt in yours when you’d been skating. And when you flick your eyes back to his face, he’s already looking at you, gaze dipping to your mouth quickly, like he can’t help it.

And shit, you think. You really, really like this boy.

Before either of you can say anything more, you’re leaning towards each other, meeting in the middle and you’re not sure if you kiss him or he kisses you, but you end up with your mouths pressed together.

It’s featherlight at first, testing the waters. Then, Steve’s hands cup your jaw gently and pull you back to him, and you wouldn’t dream of doing anything but follow.

He kisses you again, still soft somehow, but more certain, his lips dancing with yours like you’ve done this a hundred times before.

You reach up and grasp his wrists in your hands, feeling his pulse under your thumbs. His heart is racing just as much as yours, you notice. Like your heartbeats have synced to a twin pattern, like this kiss was enough to do that.

And while you’re not sure what will happen after this, you know that something has shifted, that both of you are saying things you’re too afraid to say out loud.

When he pulls back, Steve presses one, two more pecks to your mouth, his thumbs tracing over your skin so lightly you might’ve dreamt it.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever think about kissing the same way after you. Steve feels warm the way he does when the sun beams on him in summer, and quickly, he thinks, I could get used to this feeling.

Then, he gets up and finds a small towel in one of the drawers by your sink, wetting it with warm water before coming back to sit with you.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he says, using a finger to tilt your chin up, swiping the towel over your cheeks to get rid of the icing there as lightly as he can.

And that’s that.

-

December twenty-fourth is your last day at Santa’s Workshop. Christmas Eve snuck up quick, and tomorrow, the twenty-fifth, the mall will be closed.

You’ve always enjoyed the job, but this year’s been your favorite by far. Usually, you and your coworkers would get along just fine, talking during shifts and laughing but never expanding outside of work, but it’s completely different with Steve.

He knocked on your door with gingerbread houses in hand and kissed you like it meant something. You like him so much that it’s in your bones, this feeling he brings out of you, how special you feel when you think about the trust he’s shown you.

But looking back, you think you were screwed from the start. From his scrunched brows asking you if the bells on the elf shoes were really necessary, to confiding in you about his parents, that list you made that seemed to be the beginning of what things have grown into now.

Green elf hat lopsided on his head, Steve smiles at you from where he stands by the camera. You smile back without thinking, like it’s natural, an instinct.

“Alright,” he says, talking to the kids sitting on the bench with Santa. “Everyone say ‘cheese’ on three. One, two-”

“Cheese!”

The camera clicks, and then it’s onto the next, the system you and Steve have created moving along smoothly, family after family.

If someone told Steve when he’d started this job, grouchy and prepared to pout about it every day, that he’d grow to like it, that he’s realized he’ll miss it when it’s gone, he would’ve laughed in their faces.

Never in a million years did Steve think he’d come remotely close to enjoying being an elf, but he has (he still fucking hates the outfit, though). You have everything to do with his surprising not-so-hatred of the job, of his careful fondness growing towards the holidays.

It’s all because of you.

Christmas Eve is a busy day at Starcourt mall, parents rushing about for last minute presents, teenagers taking advantage of holiday sales, and families lined up for their Santa pictures they’d forgotten about until now.

You don’t get breaks between families often today, but once you do, you and Steve are next to each other, making imaginary backstories for random people that pass by, dramatically reading lips of conversations.

The next time there’s an opening, you walk over to Steve, holding up your fist as if there’s a microphone in it. “So, Steve, tell me, how does it feel to have survived December as a Christmas elf?”

“I feel like I should get an award, maybe,” he says into your fake microphone. “I’ve gotten two rashes from this scratchy outfit. Two! And I’ll never hear jingle bells the same again.”

You laugh before clearing your throat and getting back into your news anchor character, “wow. You heard it here folks, North Pole outfits are not luxurious.”

“No, they are not.”

Steve can’t help but grin as he looks at you, as he jokes around with you so easily it feels like he’s known you for years instead of a month. He supposes he has known you longer, but never the way he does now.

“Now, will you be returning to Santa’s Workshop in future Decembers, mister Harrington?”

“Well, that depends,” he says. “I think I’ll require a certain presence to be with me if I come back. Can’t survive it without my doses of sunshine.”

My doses of sunshine.

You’ve never reacted to words the way you do with Steve, but when he says things like that, how can you not react? He compliments you in these indirect ways that only you could understand, and this secret language of yours has your heart skipping, your world tinted-pink.

That one makes you break character, “really?”

“Really.”

Looking up at him, at those soft, melting brown eyes that have always told you more than anything else about him, at the fondness in them, you think about that kiss.

You haven’t spoken about it, but you haven’t felt the need to. It meant something, you know that much, and by the way Steve sneaks touches—a squeeze of your hand, a palm on your back—he does, too.

“You make Christmas better,” he tells you.

He leaves you with that as the next family walks up for their picture, but you don’t miss the way his eyes linger on you, his gaze spreading sparkles over your skin.

It’s hard to focus when all you can think about is him calling you sunshine in that soft voice of his he’s only used when you’re alone, but you have to, so it’s back to work you go.

You don’t get to speak much again until your shift is over, the Christmas Eve evening rush swooping in and keeping you both busy.

It’s bittersweet, walking to the back room for the last time from Santa’s Workshop. You’re excited for tomorrow, because it’s Christmas and it’s one of your favorite days of the year, but it’s hitting you now how much you’ll miss seeing Steve nearly every day.

You’ll still see him, of course you will. Whether it’s him getting you to help sneak kids into a movie or maybe something more, something for just the two of you. Either way, you’re at least sure of one thing: Steve Harrington is one of the best people you know.

He’s the first to speak as you step into the staff room. “I have something for you,” he says.

Steve scratches the back of his neck, the smallest hint of pink on his cheeks. He’s nervous, and it’s the sweetest thing. He reaches into his bag, pulling out a small box, a white ribbon tied in a bow around it, a little lopsided, like he’d tied it himself.

You take it from him, smiling down at the box, because no matter what’s in it, he cared enough to get you a gift and that’s what matters, that’s what you’ll hold onto.

“Really?”

“Open it, please.”

You listen, tugging the ribbon loose and opening up the small box. Inside, you find a delicate chain, the pendant in the shape of the sun.

“Steve.” It comes out in a breath, your eyes welling the tiniest bit because this is the best gift you’ve ever received. He’s a gift himself, looking at you shyly, searching your face for a reaction.

“Do you like it?” He asks, his voice soft. “If it’s too much I can-”

“It’s perfect,” you say, and you mean it. “Put it on for me?”

He flashes you a grin, the corners of his mouth tugging up as he nods and takes the necklace from you, undoing the clasp as you turn around and move your hair out of the way.

You can feel his warmth against your back as he drapes the necklace over your collar, his fingers brushing the back of your neck as he fiddles with the clasp.

“There you go,” he says, taking a small step back to give you room to spin back around to face him.

You look down at the sun pendant sitting against your skin, touching it lightly. Steve’s actions speak volumes, and this one makes you feel so many things. But above it all, you feel like his.

He watches your face as you look at the necklace, the slope of your nose and the softness of your cheeks. The flutter of your lashes and the smile you don’t even try to hide. He’s been resisting the urge to kiss you since he’d done it the first time, but it’s stronger than ever now, with his present around your neck.

Your eyes meet when you look back up at him, his brown ones never failing to show how he feels, and your heart skips with how he looks at you. Like he cares, like he doesn’t intend on stopping.

He brushes your hair over your shoulder, fingertips gentle as ever when they brush against the side of your neck.

“I love it, Steve, really. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sunshine.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything, I didn’t expect-”

“Hey,” he cuts you off, his hand shifting to hold yours, fingers lacing with yours easily, “you’ve given me so much.”

Steve doesn’t know how he got lucky enough to get paired with you for this job, how he got lucky enough to have someone look past his slight grumpiness and really see him. You’ve given him Christmas as a whole, erasing bad memories, replacing them with new ones, and he doesn’t think any present could repay you for that.

“Oh wait!” You squeeze his hand before letting go and heading towards your bag, digging until you find what you’d been looking for. You hand Steve a folded piece of paper, “you should have this.”

As he unfolds it, he realizes it’s the bucket list you’d made for him what feels like forever ago, glitter and all. There are activities with check marks beside them, the ones you’d completed, and he shakes his head with the smile he seems to only wear when you’re around.

Very last on the list, your handwriting spells out words that make his chest feel light, his heart full.

‘Make next Christmas just as good.’

Steve finally stops holding himself back and kisses you for the second time, and you’re both certain it won’t be the last.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

thank you for reading!! if you enjoyed, please please consider leaving a reblog or comment and let me know what you think! it would mean a bunch <3

[astonmartingf]

SLOWLY ; LH44

— after all the years you’ve been together with lewis as friends, you realize what lewis means to you

amgf mentions of break downs and panic attacks, crying, realizing feelings are overwhelming and it's just too much for reader but don't worry it's fluff 🫶 enjoy because wow i loved writing this, also tried my hardest not to make this like my other lewis smau and i hope i did that. anyways, enjoy!!! the next part we're going somewhere special 😉👍

masterlist

“Nico! You’re here at Lewis' party? I missed you so much, I have no one to talk to— Lewis is busy yet he’s always around. What if… what if I start seeing him in some type of way? Or am I drunk? I’m not drunk aren’t I? Maybe I am… a true friend wouldn’t have feelings for a friend right? OH MY GOSH! What if it was Lewis all along? I mean, I don’t mind, look at him? But… ARRGGGHHH! I have so much to say, but I can’t say it. Not to his face… I really think I’m starting to like—”

Do you have an unhealthy attachment to the voicemail Nico sent you four years ago of your drunken confession to admitting to having some type of feeling for your friend, Lewis Hamilton?

Yes.

Does Nico constantly remind you of the said confession four years after?

Yes.

Is it haunting your mind? It’s haunting your mind, soul, and heart— because as much as you hate to admit it, the feelings are starting to follow you, four years later. All your drunken word vomit to Nico was slowly following you throughout the years and it’s only then that you realize the culmination of all your deepest and darkest thoughts about Lewis.

That after all those years of friendship and platonic love… it might be him.

As time passes by you’ve fully integrated into yourself that Lewis would be an integral part of your life, in your formative years you stuck by each other up until the occurring present, and soon you figured out you’d still be friends with him in the future. He was always there, it was understandable.

But it wasn’t until you fully grasped that he was always there, and he might never go away.

“So have you thought about it?” Nico breaks your train of thought, sitting on the carpeted floor of his daughter’s playroom wearing tiaras and tutu skirts, playing tea party with the teddy bears Lewis gifted them last Christmas.

“I’m not thinking about Lewis.”

“That was an awfully quick answer, didn’t even mention him in the slightest.” You blink, dropping the “cup of tea” handed to you. “What did I say?” 

Nico sighs in front of you, picking up the plastic tea cup, placing it back on the table, whispering something to his daughter before removing the wand from your left hand and whisking you out of the room.

“Is everything okay?” Nico asks, pulling one of the throw pillows into your lap, eagerly waiting for your response.

“It’s scary— these feelings I’m bearing. I don’t think I can handle it, I want them gone.” Your words are void of emotion, but your eyes tell a different story as tears start pooling your eyes, heavy and slowly out of breath, shaking your head in disbelief.

You shudder as Nico pulls your arms together to your side, forcing you to face him— you stare at his eyes, slowly blurring at the tears blocking your view. “I don’t know what to do, I don’t want it. It’s all too much for me, this— this feeling, it’s uncomfortable, I don’t like it.”

“It’s new, but it’s still the same. It’s still the same Lewis and he won’t ever change.” Nico tries to comfort you, but you’re spiraling way too quickly to make sense of it all.

“No it won’t! I like him, things will be different from then on, can’t you see? I’m ruining it all, and once Lewis realizes that he’ll leave me for being a bad friend. It’s all my fault, I like him and I hate myself for it. I can’t believe it, all those years will end up with me being alone all because I like him. And now, I can’t even— I don’t want to look at him. I’m disgusted and disappointed at myself for even thinking that I have a chance, every moment I’m with him I look forward to the next, and it’s all new to me, I don’t like it Nico!” 

You catch his daughters peeking from the playroom, fully unaware of the volume of your voice. They probably didn’t expect their aunt to break down in their house on a random weekday, yet here we are. You laugh bitterly, wiping the tears in your face. “I’m scared Nico, I don’t know what to do.”

Nico holds his breath out nodding slowly, comforting you, “Yes, I understand… it all seems scary, these big feelings— it’s new. But, remember it’s still Lewis. I don’t think he would want you to be all alone as well.”

It was the last straw, the cumulation of all your feelings summed up to one— after Nico left and Lewis being avoidant about the situation, it left scars around you. You realize not to bring it up, and thinking of your own feelings and over analyzing down the “what could have beens” in your head, you went ahead of your own thoughts, slowly pulling you in a never ending spiral of destruction.

“I’m home! And guess who I met on the way?” Watching you bursting into tears on the couch in front of Nico, still adorning the tutu skirt and plastic tiara on top of your head was not the sight Lewis and Vivian were expecting when they came in.

Nico put his hands out defensively, “It’s not my fault— okay maybe I was part but I promise you I was just helping her. Not helping her cry, I just said some things that made her emotional— okay no. It wasn’t my fault I promise you, YN was just saying something and I said it wasn’t true, I just assured her. I promise I didn’t make her cry, she did that to herself.”

You burst into laughter all whilst rubbing your eyes dry, “Hi Vivian… Lewis— I swear it wasn’t him. It’s all just me being silly.” Nico gave you a pointed look, assuring you your feelings are very much valid and not silly, but you just shake your head in dismissal.

Lewis approached you, slowly wiping the tears of your face and pulling onto the strings of your heart. If you had any more tears left to cry you would’ve bursted then and there again, but you wouldn’t do that in front of Lewis. “Are you sure? Or are you just saying that because we’re here? I’m sure Vivian doesn’t mind if you tell us the truth, did Nico make you cry?”

You laugh resting your face onto the palm of his hands, “He did make me cry, but I assure you it was out of the goodness of his heart. It was either me crying or possibly passing out, I’d rather cry my heart out.” The mention of almost passing out leaves Lewis more worried than Nico being the reason for your tears.

“Darling why? Are you tired? Do you want to go home?” Go home. Home being Lewis’ apartment just a floor above Nico's. As much as you want to rest, close your eyes, and forget about all of this, you couldn’t bear being alone with Lewis yet.

You shake your head, “No… I want to play with the kids, Nico pulled us out to talk for a moment and then I had this breakdown, I want to stay I promise. It might help distract me from my own thoughts.”

Lewis, still wary, lets you off to play with the kids as he helps Vivian and Nico in the kitchen. “So… care to tell us what happened?” Nico presses his lips into a thin line before shaking his head.

“Sorry but this is about YN, if you want to know you ask her yourself, I doubt she wants to talk about it yet but don’t worry. It’s nothing alarming, I promise you— she just needs time to think about it more.” 

Not convinced, Lewis presses on the issue, “She’s okay though?”

Nico laughs, “She’s more than okay! I think it’s only going to get better from here on. It was just an enlightening time for both of us, more for her, but don’t worry Lew, things are looking up from here on.”

Sitting with the kids as you continue your interrupted tea party, they shower you with hugs and comforting words before instructing you how to play tea party with them. Peeking from the door of the playroom, you catch a glimpse of Lewis in the kitchen with Nico, not before sending a small smile and waving in your direction.

You smile back at him, and to yourself. Nico was right.

It’s still Lewis— things may be looking fast for your feelings, but one thing’s for sure. You’ve been slowly falling for Lewis since then.

[www-jungwon]

in which roommate!heeseung insists on decorating, and you're sure he's up to something (why has he got so much mistletoe?) ୨୧

tw. yellinggg, kissing, idk what rlly went through my head when writing this its kinda cringe bro wc. 887

“ok, i give up.” heeseung looks over in confusion, holding a box of christmas decorations in his hand.

“just tell me! i give up.”

“what are you talking about?” he squints, shifting the box in his arm.

you shift on the couch agitatedly, pausing your tv show. “why are you hanging all these up? like, do you want my room, or you feel bad because you broke something that’s mine, or you’re trying to hint you want-”

“it’s for christmas spirit!”

you roll your eyes. you’ve been trying to figure out your roommate’s obsession with decorating the apartment for the last week, but every time he’s answered with the same response. ‘christmas spirit.’ christmas spirit your ass. you’ll figure it out, you just need a couple more days.

“sure.”

he raises his eyebrows innocently. “i don’t know why you don’t believe me.”

“maybe because in the 3 years we’ve lived together you haven’t ever even lifted a finger to help me put decorations up?”

he shrugs. “change of heart.”

definitely up to something.

–

heeseung is being weird. he keeps trying to hide his decorations when you walk in on him, like he’s scared of you seeing them. even though you’ll see them anyway, because it’s your apartment.

after seeing him drop his box for the third time in two days, it clicks. a party. that explains his controlling of the decorations to look his way, and the secret phone calls he’s been making. you absolutely hate crowds, and your one rule the only time you’ve lived here has been no parties. he’s never complained before, but you suppose he’s finally gotten tired.

you’ve never felt more betrayed. heeseung, the most considerate roommate you’ve ever had, heeseung who keeps track of the amount of chocolate in your storage, heeseung who buys you things just because they reminded him of you, heeseung who is in charge of all the groceries, no discussion. heeseung, who you think you might be in love with, that heeseung, trying to throw a holiday party in your apartment without your permission when you leave tomorrow.

and as you see him emerge from the doorway, his head brushing the mistletoe he hung, fiery anger builds up inside you. how dare he hum, act all normal like you didn’t just watch him try to hide his decorations, how dare he do this secretly, how dare he make you love him while he’s betraying you like this?

so when he asks what you want him to make for dinner, you want to hit him in the face.

“you what?” he asks, and the way his nose scrunches in confusion only makes you angrier, and you snap.

“lee heeseung, i hate you!”

his doe eyes widen in surprise.

“what? i-”

“you’re so stupid! i can’t believe you would do all this just for a stupid holiday party! over me!”

you’ve stepped up to him, him backing up slightly as you walk forward.

“i don't know what-”

“and i wouldn’t have cared if you just asked! i’m not even gonna be here! but i thought that you at least cared about me enough to ask instead of sneaking around.”

“y/n, i-”

“and you find it so amusing when i ask you why, and this whole time it’s been for a party? you’ve been lying to me, sneaking around, just so you can throw a party without my permission? do i mean that little to you,” your words are choked by a sob, “that little, that-”

“y/n, i promise i-”

“that little, that a party is more important to you than me.” tears cross down your cheeks, tracing over the edges of your face.

heeseung’s brows are furrowed now, a concerned frown pushed onto his face. “y/n, i swear-”

how dare he act concerned, when it’s his fault. 

a yell rips out of you, “you don’t get to care about me now! not after, not after this, not after i’ve spent three years loving you and you’ve just thrown all my trust away for a party.”

he’s broken now, you can see it on his face in the way his brows are drawn in and you know you’ve hurt him, and you feel awful. he watches you carefully, taking a deep breath before he moves almost imperceptibly closer.

“y/n.”

you sniff weakly, “yeah?”

his voice is soft with hurt. “i love you, too. and i’d never throw a party without your permission, and it wasn’t that, and i’m sorry i was being so secretive but i promise it wasn’t because of that and i think- i think you should look up.”

you hadn’t realized how close you were to him now, your hands brushing his. you turn your head up slowly, your lips almost pressing against his, and you see it.

the mistletoe.

“i love you, y/n. and i thought- i wanted to tell you, before you left and i didn’t know how, but since you were always decorating instead of me doing anything i wanted to do something nice for you, and then i realized maybe if i could put mistletoe up then you would get the hint and i wouldn’t have to say anything.”

his arms slide around your waist tentatively, pulling you into him, and you look down, falling into him as your lips push into his.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

part of winters of us, an advent calendar : day 009 prev

extremely late sry

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general @bucketofhiros @addictedtohobi @ariadores enhypen @cutesiepatootsie @sammm5225 @eupherbia

[moremaybank]

HOME THIS CHRISTMAS — j.m

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader prompt: "i thought you were going home for christmas?" - "well, i couldn't leave you all alone." requested: here (ty @drewstarkeyslut) warnings: none naughty or nice ! ౨ৎ

When you first told JJ that you had to fly back home to visit your parents for the holidays, you could see the sorrow in his eyes. He tried his hardest not to let it show, throwing on the best smile he could and saying “That’s great, baby. I know you miss ‘em. I bet they’re thrilled.” 

What he really wanted to do was get on his knees, loop his arms around your legs like a child and beg and plead for you not to leave him. He couldn’t help it. Most of the time growing up, he’d duck out of his house, not too eager to spend quality time with Luke. Quality time in which Luke would spend being wasted out of his mind and souring the mood. John B always had Big John to celebrate with, and now he has Sarah. Kie would stay with her parents and possibly do something at The Wreck to give back during the festive season, and Pope would spend it with his parents as well. 

It’s not like they tried to leave JJ out. That’s just what ended up happening every year. 

But now that the two of you were together, he hoped that he’d finally get to experience Christmas with someone he loved.

Too bad the odds just weren’t in his favour. 

He moped, albeit internally (though you knew him far too well to believe that he was happy, or even simply okay). With the date of your departure rapidly approaching, he grew even more defeated. When you asked him about it, he knew he couldn’t lie to you. But he would just say that he was going to miss you. That he’d been excited to start new holiday traditions with you, but you won’t have the opportunity to do so. And while you argued that you could still do everything he’d planned out before and after you returned, you understood where he was coming from. 

It wouldn’t be the same. 

“It’s okay, baby. I don’t want you to worry about me. I get you all to myself for the majority of the year, you should be able to go visit your family without feeling guilty.” 

Your hands rub a path up and down his brawny arms. “You know, no matter how many times you say not to worry, I still will.” 

He smiles, leaning in to kiss the tip of your nose. “‘N I love you for that, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna let your guilt hold you back. You’re goin’.” 

And that was that. 

Or, at least, that’s what JJ thought. 

When JJ woke up on the twenty-third of December, the bed was cold and empty. There was no one scratching his back, kissing up the length of his spine and playing with his hair. No one whispered how pretty he looked as he slept, how tan he was in contrast with the white cotton sheets embracing him. 

His shower was even lonelier than the wake-up had been. Still, he forced himself to continue with his morning routine before begrudgingly getting himself to work. JJ never enjoyed work, but now that he couldn’t look forward to your daily visit…let’s just say he was no longer the ray of sunshine he always was in your company. 

The day dragged on, possibly the slowest he’d ever experienced. He waited for a text or call from you to ensure that you’d reached your destination with all your precious limbs intact. But hours went by, and he hadn’t heard from you. Worry bubbled in his chest, but he just told himself that you were reuniting with everyone, and you couldn’t find a second to pull yourself away from them. 

Meanwhile, you were running around ordering all of JJ’s favourite foods, buying matching pyjama sets and decorating your apartment. You hadn’t bothered to do so earlier since you were planning on being away, and truthfully, you didn’t want JJ to be surrounded by all the reminders of why you weren’t there. 

In hindsight, maybe it would’ve been better to make it homey for him. Especially now that you were on a massive time crunch. 

When you were done, you shot JJ a quick message. 

Hi, baby. Miss you. There’s a surprise waiting for you when you get home. I hope you like it ♡︎

Though he would’ve loved to hear your voice, joy washed over him once he read your message. You were so good to him. You had a habit of acting like a madman every time you had to travel, and in between freaking out the way he knew you were, you took the time out of your busy schedule to brighten up his day.

The drive home felt far too long. He wished for nothing more than to shower, crack open a few beers and chill. Smoke so he could fall asleep without you. 

On another note, his curiosity also ate away at him. He wondered what his crazy girl had left behind for him. 

He stepped inside your shared place, noticing a cast of light coming from the next room. Shit, he thought, she’s gonna kill me if I left the lights on again. But when he reached the room, there you were, wearing red plaid pyjamas and fuzzy socks, standing next to a large pile of presents in front of your brand-new pine tree. 

“What…What are you doin’ here? I thought you were goin’ home for Christmas?” 

You crossed the room, looping your arms around his back and looking up at him. You watched his blue eyes sparkle in the light. 

He’d never looked so delighted. Relieved. 

“Well, I couldn’t leave you all alone.”

“But, what about your family? They’re expectin’ you,” he spoke, though he pulled you into him further. “What if they hate me for making you stay here?”

Your head tilted, and your heart melted. He was so disappointed by the thought of having to spend Christmas by himself again, but the first thing that popped into his mind at the sight of you was the idea of your family being upset with him. 

He was too sweet for his own good. 

“You didn’t make me do anything. I wanted to stay. It wouldn’t have been Christmas without you. As for my family — who do not hate you, by the way — they’re coming down in a few days. And they can’t wait to meet the boy who makes me happy.” 

He didn’t even respond. Not verbally, anyway. He simply gave you a shining grin, cupped your face and kissed the life out of you. 

Oh, yeah. Best decision ever. 

[pacifymebby]

Christmas Morning

Congrats on 2k follows 🫶🏻

For the Christmas asks what do you think each of the Peaky Blinders men would get for their partners? How would Christmas morning look for them when they’re opening their gifts?

Tommy

🌿 I think for Tommy he's torn between feeling like Christmas should be a totally sacred day for family and family only...

🌿 the football match in the trenches on Christmas is probably something he holds dear and so he believes that Christmas is a day of peace and goodwill to all men... After many Christmases alone, Christmases of loss and sorrow

🌿 But he's also all too aware that not everyone else honours the day in the same way as he does, especially his enemies... so Christmas is a half and half kind of day to him, he wants to spend it with his family relaxing and being in the arms of everyone he loves, but he also knows he can't afford to put his schemes on hold, can't afford to drop his guard...

🌿 so he still sleeps with a gun beneath the bed on Christmas Eve and he still lies awake listening for the sounds of intruders, paranoid as he is... You tease him, "who's that for? Father Christmas?" And he lets you get away with your teasing because it's Christmas...

🌿 Tommy doesn't sleep well, but he knows half of the fun of Christmas morning for the kids, is that it's the only day of the year they're allowed to wake mummy and daddy up as early as they like...

🌿 so even though Tommy would usually be up at the crack of dawn, on Christmas morning he forces himself to go back to sleep, or at least to pretend to be sleeping until the little ones come bursting in jumping on the bed to wake him up..

🌿 he's usually so relieved to hear their little footsteps down the hall, and most of the time he wakes you when he hears them so that their jumping on you doesn't come as a sudden scare... Sometimes though he can think of nothing better than to let them make you jump... Because when they do and you squeal and get that little fright, it's the perfect excuse for him to wrap his arms around you and play your protector as he gathers the little ones up for cuddles too.

🌿 He probably pretends to have some order on Christmas morning, pretends he's going to make the kids wait until after breakfast to open their presents, but really he likes to see them be wild and excited...

🌿 he didn't get so many of these childish gleeful Christmases as a boy and he wants to give you and his children the loveliest Christmas mornings...

🌿 Tommy gives the servants the morning off on Christmas, he makes breakfast and tries his hand at remembering where he came from... Plus he enjoys the two of you getting to spend time together in a domestic way like that, with the kids sitting waiting impatiently for their breakfast.

🌿 he definitely thinks he's being low-key with his gifts, "oh that's just a little something from me angel..." as you unwrap a little box which rattled when you shook it.. and of course it's something beautiful and divine, something you can't believe was crafted on earth and not in heaven...

🌿 Tommy kissing the back of your neck as he scoops your hair up and helps you put the necklace on you...

🌿 he spoils you with so many pretty things, dresses, a silk kimono style dressing gown, glamorous and pretty things, pearls, jewellery but also does like to get you more low-key things, the thing he'd be most looking forward to giving you is an old first edition of your favourite book, your favourite poets latest work, a record, music he's seen you swaying with yourself to as you hum the melody.

🌿 and when you tell him he shouldn't have he just smiles, cups your cheek and leans in, whispers the words over your lips "prettiest girl in the world deserves the prettiest gifts doesn't she?" And with his nose nudging yours you're not about to argue with him. Him lacing his fingers with yours as the children interrupt jumping up onto daddy's knee to show him what father Christmas bought them...

🌿 After Christmas Lunch Tommy suggests a little stroll through the snowy gardens down to the stables where another gift is waiting for you... A beautiful horse which you adore... Her sleek black mane, her calm eyes... Tommy promises that this year he'll take more time away from work and teach you to ride.

🌿 I reckon Tommy's more devoted to the "father Christmas" thing than you'd expect him to be, I feel like he'd think it was really important, that's kids need that kind of magic in their little worlds...

Arthur

🍂 Arthur definitely gets quite flustered around Christmas, he worries that he can't think of the perfect gift, he begs and begs you to just tell him what you want, "really darlin please, don't care it it's expensive or if I have to go fuckin Timbuktu for it it'll be easier than this bloody guessing game!" "Arthur if I knew what I wanted I'd tell you but I don't..." "Please love!* You'd be giggling at his despair as he starts reeling off guesses and you keep telling him they all sound lovely, that he should just get you whatever he thinks of...

🍂 "but y/n what if I get it wrong!" "Arthur Shelby for the last fuckin time you won't get it wrong! You've never been wrong before..."

🍂 and the reason he's never been wrong before is that he really does just buy you everything he can think of that he thinks you might like, and sometimes things he's heard your friends ask their husbands for... he buys so much in the hopes that you'll like at least something...

🍂 But really all you want for Christmas is to be with him, that anything he gets you is perfect to you because it will be a sign from him that he cares about you and that he put thought into your gift.

🍂 he's always a little worried he's going to ruin Christmas in some way, he worries that he'll get too drunk or that he'll end up fighting with one of the reletives it guests... and when he's anxious and stressed out he'll have a drink... so he gets pretty merry on Christmas...

🍂 but most of those things he worries about are irrational worries... Arthur cares so much about the whole family getting together for Christmas because he sees himself as the head of the family, and he because he cares he tries really hard...

🍂 he's everyone's favourite flustered uncle and poor Arthur is unfortunately the kids favourite uncle to fuss around... they find it so funny seeing him a little red in the face going slightly crazy trying to make sure everything's going well... always asking you if you think the days going well, if the kids are happy... "look at em Arth, they're having the best time you dafty..."

🍂 He's so nervous watching you open your presents and you're kind of conscious of that so you're always making sure you're extra grateful and that you smile and say thank you for every single gift, and that you tell him he definitely isn't to buy you so much next year...

🍂 because apart from anything else you'd be self conscious about giving your gifts for him, because there's no way you've bought him as much as he's given you...

🍂 and so many of his gifts are so thoughtful too, there'll be a bottle of wine you'd tried to describe to him when you'd come back from a little weekend away with Ada, you'd been telling him how divine it was and how you'd love to drink it again (you were drunk when you were telling him about this) but you couldn't remember it... Arthur had gone to an unhinged extreme and visited the hotel to find out and then buy you a crate of the stuff...

🍂 You'll be really surprised by the levels of thought Arthur's put into your gift and when you stop beneath the mistletoe to thank him for all your gifts he'd cup your face in his hands and tell you that he wanted to make your Christmas perfect... "Was always gonna be if I got to spend it with you Arth..."

🍂 and then he'd get emotional, Arthur definitely gets a bit misty eyed after all the fuss of Christmas, because it's so important to him to see the whole family together, as a family... It wasn't like that when he was a kid and he's always wanted to give the family the kinds of warm happy Christmases they all wished for as youngens.

🍂 he definitely dresses up as Father Christmas for the little ones and brings in their sack of toys... Lets them clamber all over him and doesn't complain once even when in their excitement they're a little rough...

🍂 exhausts himself and falls asleep on the sofa after lunch, cuddled up with you of course...

Alfie

🐻 grumpy when you wake him up early... "You youngens spare no thought for us old men do ya? Wakin us up at the first sign of light over that godforsaken horizon just because its bloody Christmas Day..." you pouting, telling him you're sorry, trying to be convincing but he sees your smile and mirrors it

🐻 "No you're not..." he chuckled pinching your cheek, pulling you up into his lap and trapping you there, demanding compensation for the inconvenience of being woken up at such an ungodly hour in the form of s good morning kiss...

🐻 "This ain't what jesus woulda wanted darlin... Reckon Jesus yeah much like myself right, was probably quite fond of a little shut eye, yeah I reckon he was you know..."

🐻 but of course its mostly just an exaggerated act he's pulling, and mostly he's only grumbling so much because he loves the sound of your giggling, loves the way your laughter leaves you wriggling in his lap trying to escape him when he starts grumbling again...

🐻 he will force you to lie back down, your head on his chest whilst he gets a little extra sleep. He kisses your forehead and tells you to go back to sleep too... "Got a big day ahead of us my little ziskeit, an I wouldn't want my pretty poppet wearing herself out before she's even had her breakfast right... So me and you yeah, we're gonna lie here just a little bit longer right... And I know you can manage waiting right because I happen to know you're a very good, very patient girl... Ain't you ziskeit?"

🐻 Alfie drags Christmas morning cuddles out for as long as possible and insists that all presents are opening in bed... If you've got little ones they drag their stockings into the bedroom and climb up into bed with mum and dad to open their presents too.

🐻 Alfie would have quite a low-key chilled out Christmas I think, you'd have lots of cute little personal family traditions (like the aforementioned opening presents in bed). He'd want there to be as little fuss as possible and a quiet but cosy Christmas by the fire would suit him best ...

🐻 that being said he always tries so hard to be charming and polite when your parents come over for christmas lunch...

🐻 he can't get down on the floor to play with the children so instead he sits in his arm chair and invites them up to play in his lap, letting them make their toy horses and soldiers climb up his left arm, conquer his right shoulder in battle and then claim victory over all on top of his head.

🐻 has a deadly sweet tooth and eats more dessert than Christmas dinner...

🐻 you mix Christian and Jewish traditions on Christmas day and Alfie spends a lot of time in the kitchen with you on Christmas Eve preparing babka and other treats from his own cultural background to share with the family...

🐻 modern Alfie would absolutely threaten deal or death on anyone who even considered reading a christmas cracker joke to him...

🐻 he spent the run up to Christmas being a big mard arse, threatening you with the naughty list every time you said no to him or didn't do as he'd asked. Whenever you were cheeky or sarcastic with him he'd told you you he wasn't bothering with gifts this year, telling you not to bother getting him anything...

🐻 But of course Alfie would never neglect his little ziskeit and come Christmas morning you're unwrapping the loveliest gifts from him... mostly music... the best gift Alfie has bought for you however can't be unwrapped and certainly can't be given to you in bed... it's waiting downstairs in the lounge... a new piano with the most gorgeous intricate design engraved in the body.

🐻 Alfie is terrible for spoiling the kids far too much too... Every year you end up getting them more and more between the two of you, but that's because for as cynical as Alfie is about the whole Christmas ordeal as he calls it, he does know the joy it brings to children and he does believe wholeheartedly that children should be able to have perfect happy childhoods.

John

🌼 Christmas with John is chaotic from the second the sun rises to long after it has set...

🌼feral children everywhere, and one adult man who isn't much better.... John loves to see the children excited and so he'll do anything to feed the fire, ramping up the excitement at any opportunity...

🌼 definitely a chocolate for breakfast household...

🌼 but before the sun rises, before the kids wake up and start shaking the house down... You're woken up by John, his arms wrapped around you, nuzzling into your hair, kissing your neck from behind you...

🌼 because it might be Christmas but he isn't sacrificing cosy, sleepy morning sex for anything and this his own special way of wishing you a merry Christmas...

🌼 so when the kids come bursting into the bedroom you're already awake, cuddled up with John making the most of the last few moments peace before the big day really starts.

🌼 And once the children are up that it, you're both being dragged down the stair to the living room where the children's stockings are full of treats and toys galore... And John's gifts to you are much the same

🌼 John buys you gifts which bring out your inner child, your favourite sweets, dancing frocks and feather hair bands to match... Chocolates too.

🌼 the best gift of all however arrives in an excited bundle of fluff and fur... A bright eyed puppy John had been keeping hidden in the kitchen, a gift not just for you but all the family... The children are over the moon, all shouting names to call her, and you're overjoyed too.

🌼 There's music on the gramophone and John's been mixing you Christmas cocktails since breakfast time, he dances you around your living room and picks your daughter up to dance with you too. Letting the kids dance with their feet on his feet, playing all sorts of silly Christmas games with them too. John is the life and soul of Christmas and there isn't a second goes by without laughter and general merriment on Christmas when John is around.

🌼 trying to gather the children (including John tbh) up to visit his brother's at Arrow House is a nightmare and you definitely all arrive late to Christmas lunch... Not that anyone was expecting you all to be on time... John and the children put the feral in festive?

🌼 He drives Tommy insane all day and you finally get a little peace and relief sipping gin by the fire with Ada and Polly.

🌼 And John definitely still makes time for you, stealing you away when the children are worn out from playing all day. Everyone's a little sleepy in the afternoon, even the puppy is dozing by the fire. John catches your hand and steals you away to a shadowy corner of the house to steal a Christmas kiss from his very own Christmas miracle.

Bonnie

🍀Going to bed on Christmas Eve, the smell of smoke from the fire, cinnamon and citrus from the little garlands of oranges and holly sprigs that you made and hung up around the vardo... In the morning when you wake there's fresh frost on the window and you can feel the chill in the air...

🍀so you snuggle in closer to Bonnie and he wraps his arms around you a little tighter than before. Youre cuddled up together beneath layers of blankets, listening to the birds outside, the hush of Christmas morning before the children wake up... with your eyes closed you're just enjoying being wrapped up together in the arms of your love...

🍀his scratchy morning voice and lilted accent as he kisses your cheek, nuzzles in closer and says "merry Christmas little dove..." "merry chrismas Bon." You whisper against his neck, your breath tickling him as you press a kiss to his skin.

🍀Christmas day is always busy and a little chaotic at the camp, many families all gather together for a huge celebration, which means brothers, sisters, cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents and old friends all gathered together with a fire and feast... Children running round with their new toys, snowball fights, all the little girls making snow angels and getting little ice crystals in the tangles of their long wild hair.

🍀And one day Bonnie can't wait to watch his own children running around all rosy cheeked on Christmas morning, scoffing chocolates and treats from father Christmas...

🍀but for now it's just you and him wrapped up snug and warm inside, sharing a little peace and tranquility before the chaos of Christmas

🍀Your stockings would be quite small, humble little things, but you'd have filled them with sweet little gifts, many of them handmade, for one another.

🍀You have carved bonnie a gorgeous new knife, it's engraved beautifully with little woodland vines along the handle. He's really pleased with it. And Bonnie has carved you something just as beautiful, a hair slide adorned with dried white flowers... It takes your breath away. Bonnie's gifts would be a mixture of practical and pretty....

🍀And because he has big dreams of wealth and riches Bonnie would have saved all the money from his boxing winnings to buy you something stunning and expensive... Something he definitely shouldn't have bought you! A necklace or a set of earrings made with your birthstone.

🍀 Bonnie would definitely get very broody and sentimental at Christmas, especially after a drink and having spent a lot of the day looking after some of the youngens. You'd be feeling the same too after watching him teach the younger lads to box, watching him dance with your younger sister around the fire and give her piggy backs when she's tired.

🍀And he'll want to dance with you too, there'll he no escaping him and you won't be able to keep the smile off your face when he's swaying you slowly to a softer Christmas song. He'd be singing it softly to you as you danced.

Isaiah

🐀 After a wild Christmas Eve you'd both be very tired and perhaps a little hungover... So you'd wake up tangled between the sheets together, sore heads and sleepy eyes... And that's where you'd stay for as long as possible.

🐀 you wouldn't have any Christmas commitments until it was time for Christmas dinner with Isaiah's father so you would drag the morning out in bed with a cup of tea, both of you feeling lazy...

🐀 When you finally wander downstairs you'd both be wearing Isaiah's pyjamas, him wearing the bottoms and you wearing the top. You'd sit together under a blanket to exchange gifts by the tree...

🐀 Deciding to cure your hangovers with another drink

🐀 luckily for you Isaiah has gifted you a cocktail shaker and set so you can mix up a cure for your Christmas morning hangover.

🐀 he's also bought you some truly gorgeous lingerie, red and lacy and he can't wait to see you in it later...

🐀 It would be quite a relaxed Christmas, you'd probably just about manage to be on time to Christmas Lunch, just about manage to look presentable and hide your hangovers from your parents.

🐀 Cheeky kisses under the mistletoe at every opportunity, you having to remind Isaiah to behave himself in front of your parents... He gets amusingly shy about having to wear a party hat on his head and take his turn in charades... He's actually blushing!!

🐀 You'd end up reengerised by the evening and you'd be back down the garrison come the night to meet with Finn and some of the other Peaky lads, music turned up loud, dancing and getting up to no good. Isaiah knows him and Finn will get a bollocking from Tommy when he comes back to the city but he doesn't care, anything to impress his girl.

Michael

☘️ With Michael Christmas morning is luxurious, it's slow and relaxing but it isn't low-key by any stretch of the imagination...

☘️ Tea and breakfast brought up to your room by the house keeper. The two of you eat breakfast in bed, sharing a peaceful good morning cuddle beneath fresh white sheets...

☘️ You go downstairs wrapped in your silk house coat and you exchange gifts beneath the tree, the fire burning in the place, the peaceful crackling of smouldering wood a tranquil soundtrack to your morning.

☘️ Michael has spoiled you, he's bought you a dress which is truly divine, a beautiful shade of jade green, you know he wants you to wear it today... He wants to show off his riches and also his girl... It's probably an attempt at making Tommy jealous... And you're determined to aid your man in whatever he desires so you make a note to do your make up perfectly, a little extra smoulder to your eyes shadow, a little extra rouge on your lips...

☘️ He's also tries to spoil you with the most modern, trend setting gifts... A state of the art gramophone, a home video camera which you're excited to use later to record the Shelby family Christmas.

☘️ Then you and Michael take a hot, steamy bath together, relaxing in eachothers arms, washing one anothers hair, closing your eyes and enjoying the peace, making the most of it before you have to visit the rest of the family at Arrow House...

☘️ Michaels a little begrudging about having to spend the day in Tommy's shadow so you do your best on Christmas morning to stroke his ego and give him the self esteem boost he needs to face his older cousin...

☘️ He's also paid for a trip to New York, he's been many time on business but he wants to take you with him and spoil you, show you Broadway and the skyscrapers which have stolen his heart.

☘️ Aunt Polly meets you at the door to arrow house and takes you under her wing, introducing you to everyone else and stealing you away with the women to drink whiskeys in the kitchen whilst the men play with the little ones who are running riot in the snow covered garden.

☘️ Michael has to rescue you from them because he catches them giving you the third degree, trying to work out if he's going to propose, trying to work out if you're pregnant.

☘️ if he was planning on proposing I think Michael is most likely to propose at Christmas.

Luca

🪽 Christmas starts at midnight when you're attending mass together, recieving communion, you resting your head on his shoulder as your lips move sleepily to the melody of another hymn.

🪽 Luca is never particularly impressed by mass in England, he always scowls and shakes his head, give you an earful on the way home about how the English are all uncultured heathens...

🪽 you just shake your head and smile, stroke his cheek as he's driving, place a cigarette between his lips and light it for him, you plant a kiss to his cheek to calm him and he settles down, remembering that it's Christmas... a happy day, a day of peace...

🪽 Luca has always found Christmas time to make him a little more romantic than usual and when he pulls up the car in the driveway he lifts you out of the car like a bride and carries you over the threshold as if it were the very first time. Smothers you in kisses as you make your way up to bed.

🪽In the morning when you wake it is to his low husky singing, an old hymn from his homeland which sounds all the more lovely for his lethargic tone. He strokes your hair from your face and brushes a kiss over your lips wishing his darling a merry christmas...

🪽 He lights your cigarette for you and you lie back against your plush set of pillows feeling like a princess, and you look radiant with the Christmas morning light streaming through the windows.

🪽 Luca can't resist you in the mornings and finds it impossible to keep his hands off you, slipping beneath the covers to wish you a merry Christmas in his own special way.

🪽 When the children wake they're full of excitement, bubbling over with Christmas spirit as they drag you and their Papà from your bed to go downstairs and open their gifts...

🪽 Now of course the children have been spoiled rotten as always, new toys and enough sweets to rot their teeth in under ten seconds... But you... You're Luca's Angelo, every gift he's given you is addressed to "cuore mio" (my heart) and every present is more beautiful than the last.

🪽 he spoils you with classy gifts, a string of pearls, a new gramophone and a collection of your most treasured records...

🪽 but his main gift to you plays towards Luca's dramatic tendencies, his need to show off and shower you in all the adoration his wallet can give... In the driveway with a red ribbon tied around the body is a flash sports car just for you.

🪽 "But... I can't... Drive..." "Not yet cuore mio, but don't worry, you'll have the best teacher..."

🪽 tickets to the opera and the most gorgeous black velvet dress for you to wear when he takes you into the city for an evening of luxury and music.

🪽 Luca dotes on you throughout the whole of the festive period, he dotes on you normally but in December and early January he really layers it on thick, all day Luca makes sure your every need is attended to... He is always the one to top up your wine glass, always planting little kisses to your hands and fingers, using any excuse to touch you...

🪽 Helps you get ready in your finery to greet your guests before dinner, Luca combs your hair and helps you into your dress, fastens the clasp of your necklace and can't resist peppering your neck in teasing kisses...

🪽 He doesn't mind playing host to his huge family, it's an excuse to show off after all, but he tires of social interaction quickly and you can see him growing impatient as the day draws on, you stop to massage his shoulders beneath the mistletoe and then you let your kiss linger on his lips, "not long now tesoro," you remind him, "then it'll be just me and you and the children, you'll have us all to yourself..." "Trust me cuore mio that moment can't come soon enough..."

🪽 When you try to pull away and return to the dining room Luca drags you back for one last kiss and really makes the most of the little moment of peace he gets to have with you.

Aberama

🥀 There was a time when Christmas was a particularly lonely time for Aberama, a time when he remembered all that he lost when he lost Bonnie's mother.. he used to find the winter season to be a harsh, cold, long and lonely winter...

🥀 but with you in his life things are finally beginning to thaw out, he has hope again for the first time in a long time. Your sweetness makes him feel warm despite the winter frost on the ground...

🥀 So now Christmas is a time when Aberama finds himself feeling grateful, more than anything else. He finds himself reflecting on his life and how much his family means to him, finds himself reflecting on you and all the joy and peace you've brought to his conflicted world.

🥀 His favourite part of winter is going on long walks through the frosty countryside with you tucked up in one of his big coats, seeing your little head poking out of a scarf he's wrapped tight around your neck to keep the chill at bay, your little rosy cheeks, is one of the prettiest sights he's blessed with amid the grey of December...

🥀 On Christmas morning he wakes up before you to prepare the fire and to start brewing tea and preparing breakfast... You're a little younger than him and he has a tendency to dote on you at the best of times, but on Christmas morning in particular you look so adorable, so at peace tucked away beneath the blankets that he can't bare to disturb you...

🥀 so you awake to a slight breeze tickling your cheeks, the sound of fire crackling, the hiss of the kettle coming to boil... And when you join Aberama by the fire you're still hazy with sleep. He opens his arms to welcome you into his embrace and lets you sit between his legs on the floor as he carries on attending to the fire.

🥀 As the camp slowly comes to life and everything gets busier he keeps you tucked away nice and close to him... With his own children grown up there's a little less chaos around his vardo and so you are both able to watch the festivities from a slight distance... You know it won't be long before you're swept up in it all however, you know it won't belong before one of the little ones comes running to show you their new toys...

🥀 and so you make the most of the peace whilst the children are distracted by their stockings to exchange your own gifts by the fire...

🥀Aberama is a practical and sentimental gift giver, he gives you a huge cosy woolen jumper, one to keep you snug and wrapped up in the cold months ahead, new boots for riding and accompanying him on those long rambles through the woodlands, he's also bought you a new pony, shes gorgeous and your heart swells with pride at the knowledge he'd have needed to pull a mean trick to get you a creature so beautiful, the thought you're worth that much to him almost brings you to tears.

🥀 Definitely takes a lot of pride in preparing the perfect Christmas feast and he keeps himself plenty busy in the morning with some of the other men and women preparing a fine spread for everyone to share... Definitely saves you the best carving of meat and the best looking potatoes.

🥀 Honestly despite the fact his children have grown and that even his youngest is an adult now, I thinn Christmas time makes Aberama a little broody, a little nostalgic for the days when his own little ones were running riot playing with their new toys... You might find he starts talking a little sentimentally when he's had too much wine, that when he's dancing with you by the fire in the evening he pulls you a little closer than usual...

Merry Christmas to all of my lovely lovely followers I hope you've had a lovely day <3

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[danaewrites]

you with the dark curls (you with the watercolor eyes)

part i: and while you were asleep, i was surely awake

james potter x reader // read it on AO3

word count: 2.8k

summary: “Falling in love with your best friend was never a good idea, but you’d managed to do the idiot thing anyway, carrying a torch for a boy who would never look past Lily’s emerald eyes to see the watercolor ones that had always been by his side.”

tags: best friends to lovers, angst with a happy ending, based on the song "dear arkansas daughter" by lady lamb, fem!reader

author's notes: hii y'all, sorry for not posting in a year :P my only excuse is that i didn't feel like taking the energy to actually write out my story ideas. also perfectionism. anyway i somehow wrote this in two hours while procrastinating my college app essays and have plans to make this a multi-chapter fic despite intending to write an angsty oneshot request for a completely different fandom (i see you, beloved anons, and i raise you this completely unrelated fic <3)… the brain of a writer works in mysterious ways.

read it all here: part i, part ii, part iii (coming soon!)

You were in love with James Potter.

It was a fact of life, just like how the sky was blue, or that his favorite dessert was treacle tart, or that you were the only person he’d ever let see him cry besides his mother. You’d loved him from the moment you met him on the train to Hogwarts as a shy, anxious muggleborn unsure of the new world of magic and prejudice you’d been thrown into without so much as a warning. He hadn’t cared at all about your blood status- didn’t even think to ask about it. He had launched himself into your compartment and began talking at you a mile a minute, beaming with every tooth showing once he found out you were hoping to get into Gryffindor, his hazel eyes alight with the joy of making a new friend. And friends indeed you had become; you were proud to remember that you’d known him before Sirius or Remus or Peter did, though it took only an instant after the Sorting for him to become best mates with the rest of them, too.

You and James were inseparable from that moment on, giggling at Professor Binns’ failure to notice Sirius’ antics in the back of class and reassuring each other when home seemed too far away for comfort. He stole sweets from the Slytherin table for you at meals, and you covered for him when the teachers almost caught him pranking Snape– after all, who would believe that sweet, innocent Y/n would ever be involved in such shenanigans? The soft-spoken demeanor and love of everything pastel you’d thought would eventually oust you from the close-knit Gryffindor boys’ group proved to be quite the useful asset when affirming their ‘innocence’.

Not that they only wanted you around because you were helpful, of course. You had quite the talent for exaggerating stories until even Sirius fell off his seat laughing in disbelief, and your creative mind made for some glorious pranks and entertaining mistakes. Peter would blush for an hour straight if anyone mentioned The Great Plum Pudding Incident of Christmas 1974, all thanks to your clever meddling. And Remus– well, he was eternally grateful for your mother-henning during the worst of his moon cycles. You’d been the first to figure out his “furry little problem”, and upon learning that enjoying chocolate was his favorite method of escapism, showed up every month without fail with an armful of Honeydukes sweets. The little ways in which you loved each Marauder meant the world to them. They would do anything to protect you and make sure you were okay, James most of all. You often teased James that he was more bodyguard than friend, with his deep glares at too-forward Hufflepuff boys masking the big softie you knew he was underneath. You remembered fondly the summer days he spent chasing you around your house, scaring your mother half to death with his colander-and-pot ‘armor’ as he declared that as a chivalrous knight, he was meant to save Princess Y/n from the terrible Acromantula King. Privately, you thought James had a few too many Arthurian legends for bedtime stories as a child, but what could you do?

Even now, as sixth years, the bond between you and James never changed, your love for him ever-growing. Your heart melted every time you glanced over your shoulder in the hallway, only to find him chatting softly with a sniffling first-year and guiding them to Professor Sprout’s office for a hot cuppa and a biscuit. You cheered at his Quidditch victories and were euphorically lifted up onto his broad shoulders afterward, whooping as he galavanted through the common room in celebration. You were there when he needed a shoulder to cry on when his grandfather died, softly stroking his hair as he fell asleep in your lap with tear tracks still running down his face. And he adored you in return– braiding your hair while you worked on Herbology essays, racing you on his beloved broom when you stayed with him during the summer, distracting you from your rants about Slughorn’s unfair grading with a trip to the kitchens and a blissfully soft blanket.

James was your lifeline and you his– and nothing in the world could change that.

Except, perhaps, one tiny little complication. A complication with vibrant red hair, sparkling green eyes, and a natural affinity for Potions. A complication that had sparked your jealousy since the first time you noticed James glancing dreamily at Lily Evans in second year Transfiguration, jealousy that had only gotten worse with his grand declarations of love every week. He’d begun to announce his affection for the muggleborn to anyone who would listen in third year, and it didn’t stop there. No, when James Potter loved someone, he loved hard, and that meant that you had to watch as beautiful bouquets appeared on Lily’s nightstand nightly while the rest of the girls in your dorm whispered and swooned. You were a wallflower when he sighed about how lovely her skin was and how bloody talented she was at everything she did during one of your late-night chats in the common room, curling in on yourself with every word he spoke. When he asked her to Hogsmeade the first time (and the second, and the third, and the fiftieth), you observed as she rolled her eyes and shoved past him, despite the small smile on her face.

It wasn’t that Lily wasn’t smart or pretty or talented– far from it. She deserved every good Potions grade she got, and even the pureblood Slytherins begrudgingly noted how she was the darling of Hogwarts society. But you thought that the way she treated your best friend, refusing his advances quite harshly but sending him flirtatious glances and making a show of wearing his flowers in her hair, was rather unkind and misleading. She had James wrapped around her little finger and didn’t seem to want to let go of his attention anytime soon, despite Snape’s protests about how much time he was spending with her. You disliked Severus, but didn’t think he deserved Lily’s bad treatment either. Sometimes you’d see him staring at James and Lily deep in conversation, and shoot him a glance of communal disappointment– before realizing who you were sharing the moment with and resuming an expression of disgust, at least.

At first, you ignored your growing angst about his new obsession, chalking it up to sleep deprivation, stress over your upcoming exams, and even your monthly. But when you started to run out of excuses for the despair slowly overtaking your heart and flashes of his dark curls began to appear in your sweetest dreams, you were forced to admit that your feelings for James ran much deeper than a platonic friendship. From the way he spun you around in the snow to the way he snorted at Remus’ awful puns, you were head-over-heels smitten with your best friend.

The way he’d filled out since the end of fourth year hadn’t escaped your notice, either; you were pretty sure that his pecs should be considered a traffic hazard, with the way you’d fallen flat on your face after seeing him shirtless after a match. He’d rushed over to clean up every one of your injuries, of course, with a touch so gentle it released a whole menagerie of butterflies in your stomach. You’d barely managed to mumble a coherent thank-you before sprinting to take a very cold shower and scream into your pillow with embarrassment. How on earth did Lily Evans even think around him?!

Alas, you’d read your fair share of romance novels, and you knew how this story would end. Falling in love with your best friend was never a good idea, but you’d managed to do the idiot thing anyway, carrying a torch for a boy who would never look past Lily’s emerald eyes to see the watercolor ones that had always been by his side.

That was the state Sirius found you in, broody and lost in thought in a quiet corner of the library. He grinned rakishly, planting a well-polished boot on a nearby chair and leaning over to tap your forehead. “Lots going on in there today, huh?”

You snapped out of your daze and smiled sheepishly up at him. “Sorry, Siri, didn’t mean to ignore you. Just, er, thinking about my Potions essay, do you know how many uses there are for mandelwort? Quite fascinating plants, hones–”

Sirius winced and slid back far across the table. “Oh, no, you are not discussing horrid Potions work with me today when there are so many other wonderful topics.” He gestured to a table of swooning fifth-years gazing dreamily at his backside. “For example, those lovely ladies,” he crooned, sending an exaggerated wink towards them and smirking when they sighed.

You wrinkled your nose and scoffed. “Oh, please, as if I haven’t heard enough about your conquests already. I’m already scarred for life from your stories about that Belgium Veela, let alone the muggle sailor you nearly broke the Statute of Secrecy for.”

He waved a hand, dismissing your allegations of the mental injury caused by his excruciating attention to sordid detail when slightly tipsy in the common room. You made a mental note to charm his shampoo to turn his hair bright lavender for the next week for that little snub. Although, being Sirius, he’d probably just use it as an excuse to sway the rest of the Hogwarts population into going to Hogsmeade with him. “Ah, but darling Y/n, that’s what I’m here for!” He furrowed his brow and stroked his chin in mock consideration. “However, I can’t seem to recall a time when you–” here he poked you in the cheek for emphasis– “confessed to a little tete-a-tete in the hallway. Ever. Which means we have a problem,” he grinned.

You felt rather like prey being hunted for sport. “That would be because I’m not interested in anyone, you dolt!” Crossing your arms, you turned your face back towards your homework. Maybe if you denied romantic interest for long enough, Sirius would leave you alone and go flounce off to flirt with the noisy table of fourth years. “Anyway, I heard Marlene’s been circling Dorcas like a lovesick pigeon lately, so perhaps you should be putting your matchmaking efforts to her benefit instead.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “C’mon doll, I know you weren’t actually thinking about Potions when I arrived. Who’s the lead actor in those fantasies, mm?” He snatched up your favorite pink gel pen, twirling around his fingers as he looked at you expectantly.

Drat. He wouldn’t be so easily distracted with the latest gossip. You opened your mouth to protest yet again when you caught a flash of red over Sirius’ artfully tousled locks. You watched as James strode up to the alcove where Lily and her friends were studying, transfigured a sheet of parchment into a butterfly clip and held it out to her with a grin. Her laughter pealed out through the library as she let him lean over her shoulder to place it in her hair. He seemed oblivious to the titters of the girls around him while he gazed at Lily adoringly. You felt your heart clench as you recognized the expression on his face; you’d seen it on your own in the mirror after spending time with James, after all. And it seemed like maybe Lily was finally starting to be swayed into accepting his starry-eyed proposals, if the pretty blush on her cheeks was anything to go by.

Sirius tracked your despairing gaze to the couple and immediately paled in realization. “Oh, shit.”

Shit, indeed. Your face turned bright red as you scrambled to pack your bag and leave the area as fast as you possibly could, not sure how you could face Sirius knowing your deepest secret now. The boy had no self-control, fueling the Hogwarts gossip mill with the wild stories he overheard, and he had even less discretion when confessing things to his friends around the common room fire. It’s no wonder he wound up in Gryffindor, you thought miserably. There’s no way he’d be able to keep a secret like the rest of the Slytherins, and definitely not from James. It would only be a matter of time before he let it slip about your feelings to the rest of the Marauders, and— well, you’d just have to face losing your best friend for good once he heard.

Sirius broke your train of thought by wrapping his hands around yours, looking up at you with concern. “Hey, doll, wait— I didn’t know—“

You sniffed and wiped the tears threatening to fall from your eyes away fiercely. “That’s exactly it, Sirius, you didn’t know because you won’t be able to keep it from James.”

He looked guiltily down at the table. “I’m sorry. I’ve been a bit of a git with keeping things private lately, yeah?”

You nodded, covering your face with your hands. Sirius reached out, placing them back down on the table, and softly said, “Listen, I shouldn’t have pried so hard. You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.” He broke off, pausing to scramble for a handkerchief from his bag to wipe off your rapidly disintegrating mascara. “And I promise not to breathe a word of this to James,” he finished.

You looked up at him, startled. “Are you serious?” At his answering grin, you groaned. “Don’t answer that. But really, are you sure that you’ll be able to resist telling him everything?” You fiddled with the now-soiled handkerchief and whispered, “You two are so close, I don’t want to drive you apart. If James thought you were hiding something important from him, it would destroy him,” you sniffed.

He frowned. “Doll, you know you’re just as important as James is to me, right?” At your answering slump, his jaw clenched and he continued on with more intensity. “You’re like my sister, Y/n, there’s nothing you could do to make me care for you less. Especially not asking for your privacy. Clearly, I haven’t been treating you as well as you deserve if you doubt that.”

He walked around and took a seat in the armchair next to you, pulling you in to lean on his shoulder. “And I can be discreet, you know. I might not show it often, but growing up in a family of the most intensely secretive purebloods ever to exist taught me a few things.” You glanced at him doubtfully, the tiny quirk of your mouth the only sign that you were joking. “Hey, I’m being serious!” He laughed, then quieted suddenly. “This thing with James— you really love him, don’t you?”

You gave him an exasperated look out of the corner of your eye. Sirius released a breath and gazed deeply into the space in front of him. “Hey, we’ll figure this out together, okay?” He poked you in the side. “If he’s too focused on the smell of Evans’ hair or whatever to see that he already has the perfect girl in front of him, he’s not as smart as you think he is.” You giggled slightly, his words warming you. Sirius smiled, happy to see you cheering up a bit.

“Why don’t we go raid the kitchens? The coolest person I know once told me that elf-crafted mint chocolate chip ice cream is the best way to heal a broken heart,” he teased. You groaned, remembering how you’d told him that as a last resort to get him to stop complaining about how he missed his sailor ex-boyfriend every time you two went to Hogsmeade. At least your random advice wound up benefiting you now, you thought as you collected the last of your stationery and exited the library.

Neither you nor Sirius saw how James watched you smile up at Sirius as you walked away, holding his arm and laughing loudly at something he muttered. Anna Dumotier, a Hufflepuff fifth-year and one of Lily’s friends, would remember later that night how he seemed to tune out Lily’s voice for a moment and stared at the doors to the library with a strange expression on his face. His brows were furrowed like he was trying to decipher the answer to an unfamiliar puzzle, his eyes widened with confusion and a glint of something she could only identify as jealousy before Lily brought him back to the conversation with a graceful flip of her hair. But no— she shook her head— that couldn’t be right. What could James possibly be jealous of when he finally had the girl of his dreams in his arms?

taglist: @magpiencrow @that-kid143 @lilly-aliyah @itmustbegreattobecalledtheitgirl

comment if you'd like to be tagged for any of my works/fandoms in the future! :)

read on: part ii

[justjams2003]

Time heals all wounds

Okay guys so...my PC broke🫨 it's um, done for. 2008 model so...yeah no there's not saving it... So if the formatting of this is weird, that would be the reason, I'm doing this on my phone.

Pairing: 70s!Elvis Presley x fem!reader

Summary: Elvis accidentally runs into a time traveler and doesn't even know it. All he knows is that she somehow just knows everything about him. Especially how badly he needs a good cuddle

Warnings: Topless reader, topless Elvis. Fluff. Angst (Elvis cries)(his ouchie body🙁) Mommy kink?? Idk this one might be a little weird guys... But he's so bbg really. Submissive Elvis. Coddling Elvis. Mentions if skin-to-skin contact. Mentions of Gladys Presley and how much Elvis missed her :(.

Word count: 2k+ unedited

Dividers by: @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Just another groupie, he would have thought if it wasn’t for the way that he looked at her. Like she sees right through him. As if she knows everything about him. Past, present and future. Across the room, where the people mingle after his show. The VIP’s so excited to have the honour and the money to meet him. All too scared to touch him, for he is the king and they are but onlookers.

Long meaningful strides to the face that calls to him in the crowd. Eyes so warm and so clear of mind. Set on him and him alone. No other thought behind those eyes except the ones reflecting his own blue eyes. The light hits her and makes the frizz of her hair look like a halo and not an imperfection. Is her breathing matching his? He could swear he saw her chest rise and fall in rhythm as he takes a sharp inhale.

His hands fall on her upper arms, just below her shoulder. Wrapping all the way around and holding her like a Christmas present. Careful not to tear at the wrapping, wanting to appreciate the effort that has gone into the sharp folds of the corners and delicate little bow on top. Bound together by tape. Christmas lights, red, then green, then red again shining down on the present, begging to be opened.

“Hi.”

His tone of voice like one he’s known all his life. Like he would greet an old friend, one which you share such a bond with that even after years it’s still the same. The ruffles of her shirt conceal the soft skin that he so desperately wants to feel under his palms. His thumbs moves the finespun sleeve up, Elvis has to hold back a groan when he feels just how silky her pale skin is.

“Hi.”

She replies in the same manner as his. The lights reflect in the wet of her eyes, making it look like diamonds under sunlight. Long lashes blink, to truly take him in. His tan skin, from his Hawaii vacation she knows, his straight nose and soft pillow lips. Just how warm his hands are around her arms. Just how many hours she spent dreaming about this.

“Do I know you?”

A moment where they both seem to take in this bizarre moment. Anon, as if it was meant to be, they both just sort of break out in giggles. His wide smile that she’s seen so many pictures of. And a real laugh that the home tapes haven’t captured exactly. Simply because they can’t copy the echo. Or the way his eyes scrunch up and he leans forward against her. Or this crazy farm feeling that usually gets covered with shame.

But there is no shame now. Because this is real. Can you believe it? He’s actually here, in front of you. Holding you even. For him, it feels even crazier. Who are you? What is happening? Why do you seem to look right into his soul? You two must know each other. She looks so familiar, like those people you meet in your dreams and then suddenly see them walking past you on the street.

“No.” She says in between laughs and again he struggles to believe that. “Come on. I must’ve met you somewhere. Even just, on the road or- I don’t know in a bathroom line.” The girl just shakes her head again. “Do you even use public toilets?” He quickly eats his words. “No, I guess not really.” She can’t help but smile at the foolishness of this all. Of the craziness of this, really.

He slings his arm over her shoulder, like the photos, tucking her into his side. She can hear her heart beating louder than ever before. She’s scared she might even pass out from excitement. He’s so close, she can smell the Brut perfum against his neck, just like Priscilla said. She’s living every girl’s dream right now. Every crazy fangirl’s dream.

“Well then, I think we ought tah get tah know each other then, huh? Honey?” She practiced her soft smile in the mirror and she can only hope that it’s being reflected right now. She just barely moves her head in a nod. “I think so too.” Her eyes drink in every single behind road he takes, in hopes she can follow the path when this is all over.

He shrugs off his jacket, hanging it against the nearest chair’s back. “Darlin’... I jus’ can’t seem to place yer accent. Where did you say you’re from?” She has to make an active effort not to bite her lip, she doesn’t want to be that girl. She shakes her head. “I didn’t.” That crooked smile overcomes him. “Oh, right. Well, please do tell me.”

Crap. Now she has to think incredibly quickly. Her geography isn’t exactly the best and she’s never really cared to put in much interest in the timeline of America. “Up North.” His brows raise, “No spot spicific?” She’s quick to shake her head. “No...we travelled a lot.” His eyes go sympathetic, “Ah get that. Ah haven’t stopped traveling since this whole lot started.” She gets this look in her eyes, like she knows.

No one has ever before reached the level of fame he has. How could she know? How could she so convincingly act like she knows? But it feels so real, so much so that his heart and body feel all warm inside. “Yeah?” She replies, a one common word and yet it feels like it’s the perfect response. Not forcing him to go on, but rather inviting him to. Still, though, not at the same time. Leaving it open for him to decide if he says more or doesn’t.

“Yah mind if I go change into something more comfortable?” She’s quick to shake her head no. “Not at all.” It’s only warm smiles from him and to her and then back again. He seems reluctant to be away from her for even a bit. But when he does eventually pry his eyes from her, he speaks again. “Make yerself comfortable, little one.”

You have to stop yourself from gasping. The nickname reserved for Priscilla. And something you’ve done has made him deem you worthy for it. No one else has taken any notice of you. All brushing you off, that is what you wanted, you will admit. But you bought the VIP ticket with the intention of only catching a glimpse of him. Maybe even if you were somehow possibly lucky enough, a peck. Like he gives the front row girls.

Now, you’re in the famous International Hotel’s very own Elvis Presley’s residence and you’re damn sure you’re going to explode with joy. Or maybe even cry. Or hell, both! You know you shouldn’t snoop, having earned his trust, somehow. But you need to see this all, while you still have the chance. The universe could play some cruel joke and take this away from you any minute now.

Trinkets, of a price you can only imagine, scattered all over the place. A real, now not vintage, plate player. You gasp, quickly searching through the stack for your favourite song. You’re not really entirely sure how it works, you never could afford one of your own. Your fingers stumble, trying to get the needle to pick up the song.

Not that you have to put it on, large hands take the needle from you. Practiced, this is all he’s known, first try gets the needle to take. His voice plays from the record, his brow raises. “Yah like this one, darlin’?” The girl smiles, “I do, it’s my favourite.” He chuckles, “I jus’ sang this on stage, yah wanna listen tah it again?” Her lashes flutter like she can’t believe he’d ask such a question.

“I could listen to you reading the bible and still wouldn’t get bored.” You choose each word so specifically. And you knew he’d grin at that. “Is that so?” The girl smiles, her head tilts to the side. Again she seems to look deep into his soul. Into his true desires for gospel and the Word. Her brows furrow, her eyes get filled with this sort of hurt. She seems to be searching his face, inspecting every bit. He feels insecure, does she notice the way his cheeks are rounder? Or just how much she makes him sweat?

“Sit down, sweetheart.” Her voice takes this nurturing tone that he yearns for since his mama... When she takes his wrist and guides him over to the couch, he doesn’t protest. It’s the way she does it with so much love in each action. Even holding her hand out for him as he sits down, take the pressure off his soar knees.

She bends over, he can’t help but take a peak under her shirt. But his intentions seem so wrong when she places a tender kiss on his forehead. “You’re done performing. It’s just you and me now. I won’t judge, I wouldn’t dare even think of it. You can relax.” She mumbles, then presses another kiss against his forehead.

The girl, who’s name he has yet to ask, takes this huge pressure off his shoulders. He even lets out a sigh and sinks further into the plush cushions. His head leans back against the back of the sofa. He looks up at the pattern of the popcorn ceiling. A relaxed sigh comes from deep in his soul. Then, the lights turn off with a click.

It’s likes she just knows him. The stress just sort of falls away. “We’re caught in a trap...I can’t walk out...” she hums the lyrics of the song, she cups his cheek. She slightly tilts his head up to look up in the eyes. “Because I love you too much baby~” His breathing hitches at the sincerity of her words. His lip quivers and she frowns, her thumbs grazing over his cheeks to wipe away the tears pouring down.

She sits down next to him, he’s quick to hide his face in the crook of her neck, in shame that he’s crying. “That’s okay, Elvis. It’s okay, baby.” She coos, rubbing circles against his back. His large hands grab at her shirt. The material feels so rough and in all reality he wants to feel her bare skin. She coos again, cradling his head in her arms.

“C’mere, baby. C’mere my Satnin.” His head snaps up, his brows pull together. Now you’re panicking. Too far? Did you give yourself away? His large hands wrap completely around your waist. He cuddles his head in the valley of your breast. Holding you like one would a teddy bear. Especially when it’s thundering outside and it’s all you have to keep you safe.

And then...he just sobs.

Your one hand holds his shirt, so tightly your knuckles turn white. The other rakes your nails against his scalp. Whispering sweet nothings in his ear. “You’re safe, baby. Nobody’s gonna hurt you, sweetheart. Cry all you need, booby.” And when she uses that nickname he just cries even harder. How? How does she know? All the sweet names his mama used to call him.

And how does she hold him, like he’s been craving to be held. Grasping onto him, with all her might. As if he might run away any moment. Taking all that he gives to her with gratefulness. God, he missed when people used to be grateful. When people used to ask for him and not just expect all of him all the time. When people were happy with whatever he gave and not expecting for him to die for their entertainment.

“You don’t need all those pills, baby. You don’t any of it. You’re just a darling boy who needs to be held. Ain’t that right, honey?” She coos as he rubs his tears off on her blouse. She doesn’t care. His hands slide under the shirt, gently tugging it off. He places wet open mouth sloppy kisses against her collarbone.

When he’s satisfied with her taste, he rubs his cheek against her neck. Down, down until he rests once again between your breasts. The soft feeling of your skin and the steady beat of your heart rhythm pulls him closer to sleep. He looked about settled, until he huffs, sitting up right again. She’s about to ask what’s wrong, before he shrugs off his silk pajama shirt.

She chuckles when he wraps himself like a vine around her again. “It’s okay, baby. I know you’re tired, sweetheart. So, so tired, hmm? Putting on such a good show, your mama would be so proud. I’m sure of it.” Again, you chose your words so carefully. Between exposing your position and cradling Elvis to sleep.

You cradle his head in your arms. Gently feathering your nails across his bare back. The other tucked under his hair, holding his face so close to her. Like they’re glued together in this skin-to-skin contact. “Sleep my darling Elvis. Your mama and Jesse is watching down. Looking over you. Protecting you. They’re so proud of you, Satnin. You can sleep easy now, it’ll all be okay.”

And you stayed in his arms, even as your arms and legs fell asleep and your back groaned from his weight. You didn’t dare move an inch. Besides the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest as you tried to keep your breathing steady.

All to keep him sleeping. He needs it so...he needs his rest...

So, here is the sitch. I usually really hate like time travel fics. Because they feel so poorly done and like such an easy cop out to me. But with the 16th recently I just couldn't stop thinking about he just needed to be held:( And then I discovered Elvis ASMR and that like made this thought even worse.

I thought about making a part 2 where it like shows the readers POV of like accidently time traveling and finding him but then I realised like, what's the point?? That doesn't add anything to this narrative. And like the whole chapter would just be the reader scheming to see him?? And like how they feel?? And like, what's the point, you guys already know how you feel??

But, this Elvis ASMR has like a whole bunch of scenarios and I thought about like writing something like this to futher the scenario. All of them usually end up in Elvis sleeping though, so maybe I'd just be more of the same thing? But I think it'd be nice to have something to read while you listen to it?? And I could call it the Sleepy Elvis series...

Um yeah, tell me what y'all think 🥰

[rinkkuma]

୨୧ WINTER WITH THE HAIKYUU BOYS

ft. atsumu miya, hinata shoyo, & kageyama tobio

tags. includes a mix of christmas and winter activities, gn!reader, a bit of cussing, all fluff ! / author's note. happy holidays and i hope everyone has a great new year's! i wished it snowed where i live </3

ATSUMU MIYA

when your hands are cold he tries warming them up by blowing into them, but eventually gives up and just pouts and shoves your hands into his pockets.

as mentioned before, he loves decorating the christmas tree with you. has a large collection of ornaments as well, it's kinda scary.

christmas music is the only thing atsumu is listening to during decemeber. while he gets ready in the morning, doing homework, as he works out, you name it. he absolutely refuses to listen to anything else the whole 31 days.

atsumu bakes and decorates cookies with you!! you buy already pre-made cookie dough to save you and atsumu the hassle, but it always ends up chaotic anyways. atsumu tries to make various shaped cookies without using a cookie cutter since he feels he has more freedom without it and well, the cookies always end up spreading too much that you can't tell what it is. honestly not that bad at decorating with icing though, but they still sometimes come out questionable.

buys a fake mistletoe and hangs it on the front door so that you have to kiss him every time you leave the house. it's also an excuse to kiss you countless times everyday. atsumu believes he's an absolute mastermind for thinking this one up.

HINATA SHOYO

shoyo loves going out in the snow to build snowmen with you!! a majority of the time it just ends in you two having a snowball fight. he is absolutely heartbroken if someone destroys the snowman or whenever it melts.

ice skating!! since he has a great balance, he's a natural. he is actually a great teacher if you don't already know how to skate. goes slow and holds your hand the whole way. if you already know how to skate though, he playfully challenges you to a game of tag and immediately skates off before you get the chance to process what he said.

as much as he loves the outdoors and could honestly spend the whole day outside, it is quite the opposite during winter. shoyo enjoys staying inside during the rain/snow under the covers while watching christmas movies with you! his favorite christmas movie is definitely the polar express.

building forts!! a professional fort builder since his childhood. he makes them super cozy with a ton of blankets, pillows, and stuffed animals. shoyo also hangs christmas lights inside to make it all the more festive. the fort is also paired with a christmas movie marathon, hot chocolate, and other christmas snacks.

buys chocolate advent calendars for you guys!! he looks forward to seeing all the fun shaped chocolates everyday. gets a little sad at the end of the month, and wishes all holidays had advent calendars.

KAGEYAMA TOBIO

actually really good at decorating gingerbread houses. since his hands are so steady, the details are neat and precise. it honestly looks better than the one shown on the box.

simply going on walks in the snow and going to a cafe is one of tobio's favorite winter activities. holding each other's hands while stepping into the soft snow, and getting a nice, warm drink paired a pastry.

tobio gives you a shit ton of gifts, it's concerning. plans these gifts by listening to what you rant about wanting in previous weeks, asking your family/friends, and sneakily talk about stuff you would like. asks his sister for help on how to wrap the gifts, but they ultimately come out a little messy but he tried his best!

snow tubing is a must for tobio. he loves bundling up in warm clothes before, and makes sure you 100% are. you will not get sick on his watch!! he loves going tubing at night though since they have pretty colored lights on. tobio also attaches his tube to yours every time, because he likes seeing you smile and laugh throughout the ride.

buys multiple matching pajamas for you and him. varying from the abominable red flannel pajama pants, reindeer onesies, to grinch pajamas, tobio has it all.

[luvistqrzzz]

TRIVIA : LOVE — enhypen hyung line oneshot series

Finding love is not easy they say but what happens when you fall for someone at the most unexpected time in an unexpected way? — whisper a small oops and continue to fall further into the loophole of love.

aka the chronicles of a hopeless romantic soul

PAIRING && GENRE — hyung line x f!reader, can be read as stand alone oneshots, crack, ansgt, fluff, happy ending, more tba in individual fics

TAGLIST — open send an ask or comment to be added (you will be tagged for all the 4 fics) — @flwrshee @aosbie @rsmura @enhastolemyheart @yannew @sophiko22 @www-jungwon @nwjws @in-somnias-world @zzinyl @mrchweeee @ghostiiess @ilovecheese09

PERMANENT TAGLIST — @rikizm @str0l0gy @yenqa @heetoldme @crxzs @s00buwu @nhularin @bunreis @hysgf @mochamvgz @myonos — will be added in all parts

STATUS — to be released !!

AN — TYSM FLO @dollikis FOR THE MAIN BANNER ISTG SHE'S SUCH A GENIUS 🫶🏼🥹 I CANNOT GET ENOUGH OF IT ILYSM FLO my banners for the rest of the fic look like shit 😻🤞🏼 i feel the general summary is so cringe ( if someone comes up w a better one then pls help 😭) ALSO the fics in the series are based on rom com books tbh ive been planning and editing the masterlist for the past two weeks ahaha so idk how to feel about it... technically im still on my writing hiatus but ill try to start working on the fics after exams,,, hope yall look forward to it hehe ^_^ !!

"It was like I was trying to memorize him — in case this was the last time I would ever see him." — (failed) STEPS TO NOT MISS YOUR EX

There were a lot of ways your sister's wedding could have gone wrong but none of them included you crossing paths with your ex who happened to be the assistant wedding planner.  Alternatively, where you were apparently "over" Lee Heeseung but an (almost) disastrous wedding made you think otherwise.

a luvistqrzzz rendition of save the date by morgan matson — [ read here ]

“Here's the thing about writing Happily Ever Afters: it helps if you believe in them.” — LETTERS TO YOU, ME AND THE BEACH

When a crippling writer’s block and an almost broke bank account forces you to move to an old family home, you didn’t expect to cross paths with your arch nemesis from high school, the ever obnoxious, Park Jay. But maybe the series of events that unfold during the summer could help you with a romantic book or two.

a luvistqrzzz rendition of beach read by emily henry — [ read here ]

“Note to self: Do not under any circumstances fall in love again.” — A 1000 WAYS BACK TO YOU

When Jake realizes he doesn't want to be (only) friends with you anymore, you are already moving halfway around the world and he's left alone on the other side of the line. Will it take two oblivious idiots 10 years and more than a hundred missed chances to see the feelings they've been hiding for long?

a luvistqrzzz rendition of where rainbows end by cecelia ahern — [ read here ]

"Well sure, who doesn't need a boyfriend? But realistically, those exotic creatures are hard to come by. At least a quality one.” — A STRANGER'S GUIDE TO LOVE AND CHRISTMAS

For Sunghoon, Christmas is like any other day, only a hundred times more crowded. But then he stumbles across a notebook at the local bookstore. A notebook full of... dares. As he and the anonymous author spend the entire Christmas eve swapping stories and dreams around the city of Seoul, where will it lead Sunghoon to?

a luvistqrzzz rendition of dash and lily's book of dares by rachel cohn and david levithan — [ read here ]

works belongs to @luvistqrzzz do not copy repost or translate my work

reblogs and feedback are heavily appreciated

networks- @hyfenet @enhanet @en-web @k-films

[batneko]

I'm forced to listen to Christmas music all day at work, so here's a Last Christmas bowuigi idea for your enjoyment featuring everyone's favorite* trope: misunderstandings!

*(lol nope)

Bowser has unintentionally achieved "friendly rival" status, and is invited to a big lodge to go skiing and snowboarding for a week. He still feels awkward around everyone, but they're all pretty welcoming, and he's not even the only former antagonist invited. Still, he's not quite willing to mingle with the whole crowd, and finds himself spending more and more time with fellow wallflower Luigi.

Luigi is a good listener. So good, in fact, that Bowser finds himself opening up a lot more than he meant to. So good that even Bowser realizes he's been dominating all their conversations. By the end of the week he thinks they're getting along well enough that he might actually call Luigi a friend.

Then, on the last day, he gets a note from Luigi asking him to meet in private. He's happy to do it. Looking forward to it, even. Maybe he can make things more balanced between them by listening to whatever it is that's so important. It had to be preceded with a note.

Then Luigi confesses that he has feelings for him. And Bowser doesn't believe it.

He's certain that this is a prank, and furious that Luigi would toy around with him like that. So he tears into him, breaking down all the reasons he would never even consider a relationship with him. He gets mean. He gets personal.

By the end both of them are heartbroken and convinced they were wrong about each other.

A year passes. Bowser is still sort of kind of friends with the others, and still gets invited to things, but he doesn't talk to Luigi at all. Bowser doesn't know who else was in on the "prank," so he's back to being cautious about who to trust.

Luigi and Mario are close, but they don't tell each other everything about their dating lives, so Mario doesn't press when a depressed Luigi says he got rejected and he'll get over it eventually.

He does, mostly, but seeing Bowser doesn't help, especially since the crush never quite goes away. There's a part of him that knows - even if he thinks it'll never happen - that if Bowser changed his mind Luigi would jump at the chance.

Next winter there's another trip to the ski lodge, and Bowser is invited, and Luigi resolves to put it all behind him and move on. Ask someone else out. Someone... safe.

But Bowser sees that Luigi has his eye on somebody else, and all the anger he thought he'd gotten over rises up again. How dare he act like nothing happened? How dare he think he can just have a normal holiday fling, as if he didn't use that exact premise to shatter Bowser's heart last year?

So Bowser starts blatantly flirting with Luigi whenever they're in a group. Compliments, playful teasing, one or two double-entendres. Whenever Luigi tries to talk to Bowser alone, Bowser walks away and refuses to say a word, but the rest of the gang think that Bowser is Staking His Claim.

The plan works, and Luigi's hopes of a new relationship are dashed before they can really start. The worst part is that the first time it happened Luigi had almost fallen for it. If he hadn't seen the glare Bowser shot him when nobody was looking, he might have done something foolish. Like flirt back.

It's a week of torture, but finally on the last day Luigi manages to corner Bowser and confront him. Ask him why he's doing this, why he feels like he needs to ruin Luigi's chances.

"Are you kidding? After what you did to me last year? You think I'd just forget?" "What I did to you?" "You didn't think I fell for that, did you? I don't know if you were recording it or if someone was waiting to jump out and laugh at me, but-" "You thought it was a prank?" "Yes! ...wasn't it?"

It takes some time (and some more yelling) but eventually Bowser accepts that Luigi wasn't lying, and they both have to re-think the entire last year... as well as what they know about each other. Bowser realizing that he was right the first time about how nice Luigi is, and that he could have had something great if he hadn't jumped to conclusions. And Luigi realizing that if Bowser thought a genuine confession was a cruel joke he's probably not nearly as confident as he acts.

"Give me a second chance," Bowser blurts out. "You're interested? After everything you said about me last year?" "I was mad, I was ranting, I don't even remember what I said." "I do." "Give me... a third chance."

Luigi says he needs time, Bowser (reluctantly) says okay, but also says he will do anything to make it up to Luigi. Favors, public humiliation, anything.

"If you still think I'm the kind of person who wants you to publicly humiliate yourself, you really don't understand me at all."

Neither of them sleeps well. In the morning while everyone is packing up, Bowser sees Luigi step into a quiet corner with the person he'd been planning to confess to this year. He's practically steaming from jealousy, but Bowser forces himself to stay away. He's not going to get a fourth chance.

But as he's about to leave, Bowser is stopped by Luigi. He hands him a scrap of paper with his phone number, and beckons him closer.

"Kiss me." "You sure?" "My brother is watching. So is the princess. You know what it'll mean if you do it, so..."

Bowser doesn't have to be asked twice.

He does get punched thirty seconds in as soon as Mario puts everything together, but it's worth it.