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[gdlavzo]

[yearningforsolitude]

jackson!joel being your neighbor and offering to come and fix things around your house for you because that’s the only way he knows how to engage in conversation with you at first.

you’d be walking home from work one day and see him on your porch, changing the light bulb on your porch light. “what’re you doin’, joel?” you’d ask him, pausing beside the step ladder he was standing on as you peered up at him.

“i noticed you hadn’t had your porch light on for a couple nights. figured it blew or somethin’, so i changed it for you.” he’d respond, screwing the lightbulb in tightly and stepping down off the ladder beside you.

“my night in shining armor,” you’d smile, mentally noting that he had paid attention to your porch light being off. “it did blow a few days ago, just hadn’t got around to fixin’ it yet. thank you, joel.”

“it’s no big deal,” he’d shake his head, awkwardly swaying a little as he stood there. “so, you got anything else inside that needs fixin’?” he’d ask, hoping that you’d say yes and extend the time he could be there with you.

“actually, i do. my faucets been leaking recently — here, come on in.” you’d invite him, unlocking your door and letting him follow you in. he’d trail behind you, taking in the coziness of your small house and how you had decorated. how fitting, he would think, faintly smiling to himself.

he’d get to work immediately, and you would offer him dinner as a thank you which he would decline at first, but would eventually agree to because you would insist on it. he would inspect the rest of the house as you made dinner, finding small jobs that he would assign to himself to do at a later date.

you’d eat dinner with him, open a few bottles of wine, then bring out the cookies you made for him for dessert — telling him that you only bake them for “special occasions”. you both would laugh together over pointless things, you would ask him about ellie, and of course he would let you know that he had to come back over soon and fix the list of other problems he had found in your house.

you’d end the night, following him to your front door. “thanks again, joel. for fixin’ stuff for me, and just for tonight. it was nice.” you’d grin, standing on your tippy toes and placing a soft kiss on his cheek. it definitely was the wine making you bold, but you weren’t complaining — and neither was he.

he would give you one of his rare joel miller smiles. “it’s no problem. i’ll see you next week to start the rest of my to-do list.” and then he’d turn, and slowly make his way over to his house. you’d shut your door after seeing him make it to his driveway, then flick on your porch light.

[spicybunni]

GENTLE (Xenomorph x reader)

A/N : It makes me happy a lot people matched my freak with my alien fanart!! i wrote a little Romulus drabble if Y/N was the one who was caught instead of Rain. I hope you enjoy!

⚠️ WARNINGS: ALIEN ROMULUS SPOILERS / SFW / VIOLENCE / FALLING / ALIEN

You were so close. Rain's finger were nearly within reach, the zero gravity almost putting you in the perfect position. Andy was holding onto her with one hand while the other gripped the ladder. You didn't want to think about how many floors up you were, just focusing on your hand reaching as far as you could to your remaining friends.

"Come on Y/N, almost there...reach!!" She pleaded with you, as if you could control the situation any better than she could.

But alas, the sudden alarm of gravity came back to you. You could see Rain's eyes widen in horror as your fingers finally brush hers, only to descend downwards with the rest of your body. Andy grips her shirt tighter as she falls against him, using his strength to hold himself and Rain against wall ladder.

"Y/N!!!" She screams as she watches you fall. The balance of having no gravity to having all the pressures of falling to your death make you scream down the elevator shaft. Of course it was all happening too quickly, but you know at this point you should accept death. At least Rain and Andy would make it. At least someone was going to make it to the sanctuary planet away from Jackson's dangerous mines. You watch as the floor levels pass you by, making you dizzy with thoughts of impact on the final floor.

Unfortunately, you would meet no quick fate.

A sudden blur of black passes your vision, the creature, holding onto the walls. Lacking any breath to gasp or scream at the sight, the remaining is knocked out of you as a slithering tail curves around your back, breaking you fall, and wrapping around your torso. It's sharp end makes a careful move to wrap around and not poke you. The ridges of it's tail feel uncomfortable against your back and stomach, making you arch as it holds you mid air.

You peer up to see the xenomorph looking down at you, as if to see that you're alright. You let out a whimper as it hisses at you. And before you could process anything else, it lifts you. Without any effort it brings you to the opposite side of the wall, gently settling you near an emergency ladder. You grab hold, but it's tail tightens around you, keeping you in place as it adjusts itself to come to you. Quick breaths are all you can produce, knowing it can't speak your language, knowing it just wants to kill you or use your body for some sick incubation. You start to cry and it's head leans down, almost as a horse would. It lets out a few hisses as it regards you. A spider like hand reaches for you, grabbing your jaw as gentle as it could for a space alien. Turning your head from side to side. Your form was shaking uncontrollably, helpless at the creatures mercy and too scared to do anything in fear of angering it.

The xenomorph was more than pissed at this point. It's hosts it's produced so far have not been suitable for the parasites to incubate offspring into. It's failed too many times to let even one of the remaining healthy hosts to just fall to their death. It would have impaled you with it's tail. But it needed you unbroken, alive. The creature inspected you for any injuries it might've caused or that you had done to yourself. Again, it needs you to be healthy. It was going to reserve you for a queen parasite. That way this pack had a hive leader, a queen Xenomorph.

It's tail drops from your waist as it's hands reach out you, grabbing and lifting you over it's shoulder. You passed out from sheer terror and exhaustion. It seemed pleased that your body went limp, you were making it all the more easier to take you to the hive....

[criminalyapping]

due for trouble | baby shower

the pitt masterlist main masterlist

pairing: jack abbot x f!reader

a/n: listen yet again idk who is working at the hospital rn because they’re all here but suspension of disbelief please!! i want them all here 😤 also timelines? continuity? who’s that? how many weeks pregnant? idk

also yes i did make an entire pinterest board with inspo and now my pinterest thinks I’m pregnant probably but take a look if you want some visuals!!

warnings: unplanned pregnancy, age gap, language

< part 13 | part 15 coming soon!

“Robby!” you greet, opening the door of Jack’s house after a few quick knocks on the door. “Come in, thank you so much for coming early!”

“Of course,” he agrees, stepping in.

“I am so glad you’re here, Jack is not being helpful right now,” you laugh, “he’s dusting the baseboards and there’s still decorations to put up! I was about to get out the step ladder and do it myself.”

“Well, let’s keep you off the step ladder,” he jokes. “What’s first, boss?” he asks, clapping his hands together, ready to work.

“Okay,” you agree, leading Robby to the kitchen. “These are all in piles,” you explain, gesturing to the decor littering the kitchen counters and dining table, “these are for the living room, the front door, the table, and the kitchen. Um, the food will be here at 12:30, I still need to get ready, make the drinks, and-“ Robby cuts you off with a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Well, it’s 12:15, why don’t you go get ready and I’ll figure out the decorations.” he smiles.

“12:15!?” you stress, “oh, I lost track of time! Thank you, thank you Robby.”

“Any time, go.” he urges.

You quickly turn, walking down the hall towards the bedroom, where your outfit sits and the bathroom awaits.

“Jack!” you call to him, still hiding somewhere with a duster. “Go help Robby!”

“Yes ma’am!” he calls back, seemingly from the office.

Jack appears next to Robby, who’s picked up the first pile of decor to inspect it.

“Hey brother,” he greets.

“Hey man,” Robby smiles, “you know the vision?”

“Yes I sure do,” Jack laughs, “this is about all she’s talked about for a week.”

“Well, let’s get to work.” he smiles.

The two work quickly, setting up table clothes, plates, napkins, cups, banners, and seemingly a million other items of decor.

They hang garland over the windows, put a sign on Jack’s porch so people know they’re at the right place, and help set up the food when it arrives a few minutes later.

Every couple of minutes, you pop your head out of the bedroom, looking around and shouting a “how’s it going?” before being ushered back into the bathroom to finish.

“Stop worrying, it’s going fine,” Jack assures, pointing back down the hallway.

“You know that’s not going that happen,” you laugh, jokingly digging your heels into the floor.

Jack pokes you in the side, laughing as you help and jerk away from the ticklish motion and glaring with mirth as you walk back to the bathroom to finish your makeup.

Jack returns to Robby’s side, the smile remaining.

“You know,” Robby starts, “I really like seeing you like this.” he notes.

“Yeah?” Jack murmurs.

“Yeah,” Robby agrees, “you’re different, man. I don’t know,” he ponders, “you seem happy.”

“I am happy.” Jack agrees.

Robby smiles, squeezing Jack’s shoulder.

“Alright,” Robby changes the subject, “What’s left?” he asks.

“Uhh,” Jack thinks, looking around his home and mentally ticking off boxes.

“I think drinks is all,” he says.

You come out a few minutes later, hair and makeup done and the dress you had picked out, tight and stretchy enough to show off your steadily growing bump.

“Gorgeous,” Jack tells you, one hand going to your bump as he gives you a sweet kiss.

“You’ve got some lip gloss,” you joke as he pulls away.

“The color working for me?” he asks, striking a pose.

“Looks great,” you laugh. You turn, taking a look around the rooms and checking that everything is where you imagined.

“It looks perfect out here,” you smile, “thank you both so much.” you say to the men in the kitchen.

“Pink!” Robby notes, gesturing to your dress, “does that mean what I think it means?” he asks giddily.

“Sure does,” Jack confirms with a smile. Robby grins even bigger, pulling him into a hug.

“Wow,” he marvels, “Jack Abbot, girl dad.”

“I’m getting a head start with this lip gloss,” he jokes, still not having wiped it off.

“Congratulations,” Robby says to you, also pulling you into a hug.

The doorbell rings, and a small snap of anxiety peels through you.

“Ah!” you yell, pulling back from Robby, “people are here.” you say to Jack, pulling him towards the door.

Jack opens the door to your best friends; Emily, Jiya, and Jada, all seeing you and immediately screaming in joy, rushing at you and pulling you into a group hug.

“Oh my god, look at you!” Emily shouts.

After releasing you, the quickly turn to Jack and pull him into a hug as well.

“Hi ladies,” he greets.

“Oh my god, it is so cute in here!” Jada gushes, looking around.

“Well come on, look around, um, there’s food and drinks and snacks, and help yourself!” you tell them, having to return to the door as the bell rings again.

All at once, it seems, Jacks modest townhome is bursting at the seams with people. You meet more of Jack’s coworkers, he meets some of yours along with some friends from college you’ve kept in touch with.

People continue to filter in for about 20 minutes, each greeting the two of you and then entering to mingle.

“Oh, look at you,” a blonde woman introduced to you as Dana marvels, taking you in. “Jack, how did you manage this?” she says with a laugh, gripping your arms after she gave you a hug.

“I ask myself that every day, Dana.” he chuckles.

She finds Robby in the fray and beelines to him, undoubtedly digging up all the information she can.

You meet his night-shift coworkers, Drs Ellis and Shen, who you’ve heard much about but have never met.

Jack had told you about the dramatic way he had invited them, giving you quite a laugh.

“Congratulations,” Dr. Shen tells you after introductions, then immediately turns toward the kitchen.

“Thank you!” you call after him.

Dr. Ellis is now in front of you and Jack alone, and she’s looking at you like she’s trying to figure you out.

“Yeah, congratulations!” she says with a smile.

“Thank you so much! And thank you for coming, I know 1pm is prime night shift sleeping hours.” you thank.

“Oh of course,” she agrees, “you find out your coworker is having a baby, you want to come and learn more.” she laughs.

“Well, due in December, completely healthy, all that fun stuff!” you tell her. “Gave me quite a run for my money the first couple of weeks, I thought I would never enjoy a meal again!” you laugh.

“Girl or boy?” she asks.

“Well, we have little prediction cards so we’ll tell everyone later and see who was right!” you say, pointing at a stack of papers on the coffee table.

You’ve greeted and chatted with everyone, and are finally able to take a breath.

“You hungry?” Jack asks. You nod with a smile.

“Let me get you some stuff,” he offers, “stay put.”

He leaves your side with a kiss.

You’re caught up with your friends, laughing at a story Jada is telling when he returns, holding out a plate piled with food.

“Thank you,” you smile, tilting your head up for another kiss, which he drops on your lips happily.

He leaves yet again, off to gossip with his coworkers as you get to work on your food.

“Ugh, he is so perfect.” Emily sighs.

You nod around a mouthful.

“I kind of won the jackpot with him.” you smile, “pun not intended.”

Your friends laugh loudly, filling your chest with warmth.

“Where do I find one?” Emily asks.

“A bar, I guess,” you laugh.

“Is that where you guys met?” someone asks from beside you. You turn, finding a group of Dana and some day shift doctors. If your memory works, you think their names are Heather and Samira.

They move over slightly, joining the four of you where you’re standing.

“Mm-hmm,” you agree, quickly swallowing your mouthful of food.

“He was sitting at a bar playing games on his phone,” you tell them. “And I just had to say something. Who goes to a bar to stare at their phone?” you joke.

“What did he say?” Heather asks.

“Something about it being peaceful for him,” you joke. “We chatted for a second, then I went back to my friends,” you explain, gesturing to the three in front of you. “But I caught him before he left.”

They smile at the happy tone of your voice.

“How long have you been dating?” Samira asks.

You laugh, “How many weeks pregnant am I?” you joke.

You see as the information settles into their brains, making the connection before they start laughing.

You join in, not embarrassed and able to see the humor in the situation.

“Oh my god, Jack Abbot,” Dana says, almost doubled over from laughing so hard.

“You would think a doctor knows that condoms expire,” you add with a chuckle.

The group dissolves into laughs one more time.

“Oh, I like you,” Dana says through her laughs.

Jack appears at your side then, called over by the loud laughter from the group.

“How’s it going over here?” he asks.

“I’m just airing out your dirty laundry.” you tell him.

“Of course,” he agrees, wrapping an arm around you waist. “Like what?”

“Just make sure to buy a new box of condoms after the baby makes their arrival.” Heather laughs.

A blush slides over Jack’s face as he chuckles with the group.

“Wouldn’t change a thing,” he mumbles, loud enough for everyone to hear, as he presses his face into the side of yours, giving you a kiss on the cheek as he pulls back.

Jacks coworkers smile indulgently at the sight.

The party continues, with cake and desserts being eaten, gifts being opened, and laughter being shared.

You truly do feel showered with love and well-wishes from everyone in attendance. Having your baby has turned from an abstract idea into something much more tangible. As you hold baby clothes, diapers, and all the gifts that were generously given, it seeps into you. In just a few months, you’ll hold a little baby that you made, with the responsibility of loving and caring for them.

Everyone is delighted to learn that you’re having a baby girl, and as the hours slip by, the guests start to slowly filter out the door.

“You have a good time?” Jack asks as the last few people left, leaving Emily, Jada, and Jiya who volunteered for clean-up duty.

“The best,” you gush with a wide smile. “Oh, Jack it was perfect.”

“I’m glad, honey.” he smiles. “Now let’s get this stuff down and cleaned up.”

“Alright, let’s go.” you agree.

tagging: @michasia24 @veggieburgerwrites @bruher @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @catmomstyles3 @qardasngan @fuckalrighty @rae4725 @beebeechaos @thatssomebadhat89 @cari87 @livingdeadblondequeen @wowitsafemale @neonpurplestars89-blog @starswin @celiacallsitcausal @vinceelser @glamorizethechaos @nerdgirljen @namgification @li22ie2017 @misshoneypaper @gardeniarose13 @peachjellyy @babybatreads @spooky-librarian-ghost @foolishseven @cannonindeez @wisps-writes-fic

if you want a tag too, let me know!!

[realtalkswithfinn]

Christmas at the Compound

Avengers x reader

Summary: Avengers x reader Christmas head cannons because I am a sucker for the found family trope.

a/n: I tried to get this up before christmas but totally spaced it, so… tale it as a christmas morning gift! I tried to make it as age neutral as possible, so it could totally be teen!reader or not.

The holidays are a tough time for the Avengers.

Most of them have lost family members or friends, and the idea of celebrating anything is extremely difficult.

Tony especially - he always gets gloomy around the Holidays.

He always says something along the lines of, "I don't actually care about this, but its social convention."

But secretly he cares a lot.

He overcompensates for his lack of affection throughout the year by buying everyone the expensive gifts he knows they want but could never justify spending on themselves.

At surface level, it just seems like “oh rich guy is spending rich guy money”

But they’re actually really thoughtful gifts

Like last year, he got Peter a new laptop for school.

He bought Bucky new and thick clothes since all of his were old and worn.

He upgraded Clints cellular data so he could talk to his family anywhere.

Things like that.

Sam and Rhodey take one for the team and string the christmas lights on the tower

“It’s too cold for this.” Sam would complain, the sharp wind nipping at his cheeks as he flew from one end of the building to the other, lights in tow.

“Come one man, where’s your christmas spirit?” Rhodey would laugh

“I’m just doing this so stark’s power bill goes up.”

it really was worth it seeing the tower lit up top to bottom though

Wanda LIVES for commercialized American Christmas

"We have to make gingerbread houses and go to Rockefeller to see the Christmas tree and we have to go out to the snow and go sledding-"

She demands family Christmas photos be taken, even though you don't really have anyone to send them to.

This years theme was christmas pjs

Which lead to a few very interesting viral videos of the avengers in an Old Navy

“Tony come on the reindeer ones are cute!”

“Bruce. A man can not hold onto his masculinity while wearing pjs with dancing reindeer.”

Natasha gets tired of the bellyaching and bickering and makes the final decision

She grabs everyone’s size in the Reindeer pjs and marches to the front of the store

After snagging Tony’s credit card, of course.

Actually taking the picture is a whole other ball game, but that’s a story for another day

Thor has a hard time with the idea of Santa

You try to explain it to him, but it doesn’t seem to help

“So a fat man breaks into the safety of your home late into the night… and you let it happen because he comes baring gifts?”

“Well… yeah.”

“But only to nice children. That he stalks throughout the year.”

“He doesn’t stalk the children he just…”

“Hm.” He squints. “what about the naughty children?”

“They don’t get any presents.”

“OR,” Wanda interjects, “Krampus comes to get them.”

“Is that another fat man in a red disguise?”

“No. He’s a demon sent from hell to eat them.”

Thor nods in approval. “Ah. That’s much more asgardian. A fair reward system for the youth!”

You stare at him. “So… you’re okay with Krampus but not Santa?”

“Well I think they work together well, like a team. Like us!”

“I… I guess…”

Decorating the tree was an all night event

You would help happy bring up what felt like hundreds of boxes of christmas decorations

The tree itself was about 15 feet tall, because it wouldn’t be a holiday at the compound if you guys weren’t extra

It was placed in the living space, right next to a huge wall of windows so all of New York could see your festivity

it had to be decorated to the nines to pass Wanda’s inspection

Not a bare branch

Theres tinsel, ribbons, colorful lights, and hundreds of ornaments

But of course, ladders were a no go

You guys liked a challenge

To reach the higher branches, you and Natasha would stand on Steve and Buckys shoulders

And I mean stand

Not sit

It was a thrilling balancing game

You trusted them to catch you if you fell, but you still had to try to avoid it at all costs to save the tree from certain destruction

Peter would dangle from the ceiling, crawling around to hang ornaments toward the very top

Both of these acts nearly gave Bruce and Vision a heart attack

“CAP, you’re moving to fast shes gunna lose balance-“

“Bruce, please take a breath.”

Meanwhile Thor is getting distracted by all the ornaments and forgetting to actually hang them up

“This one’s a little man of snow! How silly!”

Speaking of ornaments

You all have an ornament of yourself on the tree

Or, your super hero alias at least

There’s a tiny black widow, a little iron man, a bity baby hulk, so on and so forth

Tony always demands his be the highest up on the tree to fuel his god complex

Drawing names out of a hat to see who got to put the star on top of the tree

(except you guys would always rig it behind Wanda’s back, only putting her name in the hat)

She would always protest, insisting to let someone else do it this year, but you guys never relented

So with a big cheesy grin on her face, she would use her magic to delicately place the star on the tippy top

You would think Natasha wouldn’t want to see the Nutcracker Ballet after her time in the red room

But it makes her so happy to see dancing as an art form instead of a way to brainwash young girls

She drags you, Clint, Wanda, and whoever else wants to tag along every year

She even splurges on front row seats

You look over and see her eyes glittering while she watches every turn, leap, and stunt intently

Leaving the theater, she’ll walk on her toes and do a few turns, encouraging you to try as well.

She ends up cackling watching you trip and stumble

“We’ll work on it.”

Can you IMAGINE the ginger bread making contest???

You’re all huddled around the long dining room table with christmas music playing

Theres Clint and Natasha, who just make the classic gingerbread house, no fancy bells or whistles.

Then there’s Bruce,Tony, and Peter who are going absolutely wild building gingerbread sky scrapers and gingerbread hotels.

“Mr. Stark look, I made a working elevator!”

Bruce puts an electric system (fairy lights) through his

Steve and Bucky rebuild their childhood homes

Wanda is going all out, delicately hand placing every candy and covering the whole thing in edible glitter

Visions is pretty similar, but more sleek and modern than Wanda’s

And then there’s Thor, who’s totally missing the point and just DUMPING everything on top

“Hey Peter, I think yours is missing something.”

You string a long thread of white rope candy from his structure to yours.

“Webs!”

“You know… we can probably make a web-like consistency with some starch and frosting…”

That becomes a whole sticky project, but you eventually get it to work, connecting everyone’s gingerbread houses with icing webs

Steve and Bucky are TOTALLY participating in the classic christmas traditions they grew up on.

They sit quietly together in the living room, making paper chains and stringing popcorn

“Do you mind if I join you guys?”

they smile gently. “Of course not.”

You sit crisscross in front of the couch while they teach you

They tell you stories of christmases long, long ago, which feels kinda silly considering they’re talking like grandpas while not appearing much older than you

On Christmas eve, you’re all there except for Clint, who went home to his family

Youre all dressed in your pajamas from the christmas card

You make hot coco and cider

Wanda pops in some old vhs tapes and you watch the classics late into the night

“Alright you nutcrackers,” tony would say around midnight. “I know you want to stay up and catch Santa, but he’s not coming if you all stay awake.”

he really just wanted to go to bed

He sauntered off, calling for lights out.

Most of the boys wandered away to their rooms, leaving you, Wanda, Nat and Thor not quite ready for sleep.

“So,” you ask, taking a sip of coco, “Do you guys think we’re on the naughty list?”

Natasha Chuckled. “I’m not sure. Does beating people up count as naughty if you’re taking down the bad guys?”

Thor set his mug down on the coffee table, the bells on his sweater jingling. “Do not fear ladies, I will catch that nasty Krampus if he comes in to devour your soul. I believe you were doing the right thing.”

You all laughed, thinking he was joking. But he just stared at you.

“Thor… you realize Krampus and Santa aren’t… real?” Wanda asked.

He had a hard time swallowing that.

He ended up sleeping on the couch “just in case”

you woke up at 3 am to a loud clattering coming from the living room

You decided to check it out against your better judgement

There was Thor. Hammer in one hand, cookie in another.

Down the hall toward the elevator was a completely destroyed life-size nutcracker.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“I thought I heard something by the elevator.”

“Congratulations. You murdered the Nutcracker.”

“I feared he was an accomplice of the holiday demon.”

“He’s been there for weeks!”

“He could have been a spy. Or possessed.”

“Goodnight Thor.”

Christmas Morning finally arrived

Everyone was sleeping soundly in their beds

Until Sam decided to be a little shit and wake everyone up at 7 am

He pounded on every. single. bedroom door.

“Y/NNNN. SANTA CAME TO TOWNNNNN.” he sing-songed

“No he didn’t.” You grumbled. “Thor killed him.”

“… I don’t know what that means.”

You all stumble out into the living room

Natasha took the time to actually run a brush through her hair and do her morning skincare

You and wanda were far too excited and skipped over that completely, barely remembering to brush your teeth

Tony looked the roughest - he had a silk robe draped over his pjs and looked like he was just awakened from a coma

Essentially, everyone was a little disheveled

Vision made everyone coffee before you started the gift exchange

You all sat around the coffee table in a circle so everyone could see each other

Bruce and Steve passed out the gifts from under the tree

it took a solid few minutes, there was a MOUNTAIN of presents

You went one at a time opening gifts

Some people think this is awkward, but you felt it was more genuine

this way, everyone can see the gift and the joy on the receivers face

as well as a million “thank you”s

It also gave time for the giver to explain why they chose the gift they did, whether it be something they remembered you said you wanted, something they knew you needed, or even just a simple “this made me think of you”

In the end, you loved all your gifts

And everyone loved what you got for them

But mostly, you were just happy to spend the holiday with your family

[pimosworld]

Stranger in my house

Pairing-Moon boys x F!reader ( Secretly Jake x f!reader) Marc Spector x f!reader/ Steven grant x f!reader

CW-18+,MDNI,Angst,Fluff,Insecurities, inaccurate depiction of DID, reader is semi aware of Jake. Protective Marc, Steven being sweet as always. Established relationship with Marc and Steven.

WK-1.6k

Summary-Snippets of a life where Jake struggles to stay in the shadows.

A/N- Dedicated to my moonknight babes. I have not forsaken you.

[Main Masterlist]

Not beta read

You notice him one day.

  A year into your relationship and Marc is fed up with Steven and yours overflowing books on the floor of the flat. “We need another bookshelf.” He grumbles at your suggestion because he would just get rid of some if he had the choice. 

  That’s how you find yourself curled up on the couch with some tea and ironically a book while you watch Marc put together the new shelf you and Steven picked out. 

  It was ornate with cherry wood accents and came with a miniature ladder to help you reach the top shelf. You didn’t think it would be too complicated but it seems as Marc stares at the pages like they are ancient hieroglyphics, you may have caused a bit more of a headache than you intended. 

  He mutters something incoherent under his breath ‘déjeme ver’. You don’t bother to ask if he needs help when the scowl on his face deepens even further into an almost unrecognizable version of your boyfriend. 

  You glance up occasionally to watch the way his back strains against the tight black t-shirt, or the way his ass looks in his jeans when he bends over. Marc and Stevens movements are so unalike and yet even now the way he stands up and straightens as he rolls his neck is so unlike Marc. 

  You stop ogling to resume your book and find yourself several chapters in when you look up to see it finished. “Oh honey, it looks so good.” 

  The look he gives you when he turns around is more of a smirk of amusement. You glance down briefly to mark your page before standing from the couch to inspect his handy work. You don’t notice the way he’s watching you as you slide your hands along the smooth wood shelves. You grab a few of your favorite books that were piled on the floor and strategically place them in some specific secret order that no one but you is privy to. 

  You turn to him and wrap your arms around his neck, waiting for him to scoop you up as he usually does. His hands hover hesitantly at your waist and then he pulls you flush against him. You almost have no room to breathe as you chuckle lightly into his neck. You swear he smells your hair before he abruptly lets you go. 

  “Hi love, do you like the bookcase?” Your sweet Steven has a slightly wild look in his eyes as waits for your response. 

  “Of course I do, we picked it out together silly.” You lean in and kiss him on the cheek and he relaxes at your touch. “If you’re listening Marc, I love it, since you disappeared on me.” 

  “Right ya…Marc. He says you're welcome.” 

  ****

  You notice one day

  You had spent all afternoon preparing a special dinner and dessert for Marc. The flat is adorned with candles and smells of fresh pasta and apple pie. 

  When Marc walks through the door you can see it written all over his face. He doesn’t say anything about you making his favorites because technically it’s not his birthday. It’s the day after. 

  You enjoy each other's company in comfortable silence as you wait for him to finish. He raises an eyebrow at you as you hand him a small box, unwrapped because then it’s not a birthday gift. 

  He opens it slowly to reveal his watch that broke months ago, the small hand ticking away right in front of his eyes. 

  You should thank her mate

  She didn’t need to do all this for my birthday 

  Well it’s technically not anymore is it? 

  He doesn’t say anything but you decide to press on with your plan. Even if it’s not exactly the reaction you were expecting at the very least he’s not protesting it. 

  “I have one more thing.” You stand from the table and head to the kitchen to retrieve the apple pie on warm in the oven. To you it’s just a dessert, a non cake related dessert that just so happened to be his favorite. Steven helped you with the vegan crust because he was not about to let Marc have all the fun. 

  You return to the table with a slice and a fork to share. He stares at it for a moment and your heart sinks a little. 

  “I know what you’re going to say…”

  He cuts you off before you can finish, he stands so suddenly it startles you. He kisses you slowly at first, savoring the way you moan into his mouth. His hand is on the back of your head and the other around your waist and it feels so different. It’s like you’re sending him off to war and this is the last kiss you’ll ever share. Your lungs burn from lack of air but you don’t want to be the first one to break. 

  He pulls away as you look up at him. His eyes are squeezed so tightly shut as he tries to catch his breath. 

  “Honey,look at me.” 

  His brow softens as he opens his eyes revealing that deep chocolate brown, with a look that could only adorn your sweet Stevens face. 

  “Thank you, love.” 

  ****

  It goes like this for a while. You noticing him…him noticing you. 

  You notice as You quirk your eyebrow at him in the kitchen when he picks out the tomato on his sandwich and drops it in the trash like it personally wronged him.  

  “I thought you liked those?” 

  He notices After a long day at work in shoes you know we’re too uncomfortable he picks up your feet and places them in his lap. He rubs them at first bordering on painful that settles into something soothing. His fingers brush the bottom of your feet and you flinch at the ticklish feeling. He tsks at you under his breath and you still your movements when you meet his unfamiliar eyes. 

  You notice When he doesn’t hear you enter the flat. He’s at the kitchen sink washing dishes, shirtless in those gray sweatpants you love. He’s humming some tune you’ve never heard as you place your things down and toe off your shoes. You didn’t mean to startle him as your cold hands met his side and he turned quickly knocking a glass off the counter. 

  “Mierda quédate ahí!” You don’t speak Spanish but you’re too stunned to move anyway. He grabs you with one arm around your waist and carries you like a duffel bag over to the couch away from the glass. 

  “Sorry love, clumsy me. I’ll get this cleaned up.” Steven doesn’t look at you as he grabs the broom from the closet. 

  ****

He notices when he slinks in through the window in the early hours. It’s still dark outside as he strips himself of his moon knight clothes, the blood only distinguishable on his hands. As he slips past you to the shower he can see your shallow breaths while you lay out flat on the bed. 

  After a while you feel the bed dip beside you as you try to calm your breathing. He wraps his arm around you as he pulls your back flush to his chest. His breath is hot on your neck and you can feel his heart beating rapidly against you. 

  “You’re a terrible faker mi amor.” Your breath hitches in your throat as he speaks the words into your ear. 

  “You have to slow down your breathing if you want to pretend to be asleep.” His voice a low growl as he places his hand on your chest. You can feel him take slow deliberate breaths as you try to match the rise and fall of his chest. ‘así’

  “This isn’t how you lay when you're asleep.” His hand leaves your body momentarily and you miss the heat of his touch. He grabs your thigh behind the knee and pushes it gently until it’s bent. His hand slowly guides you to your stomach while his other arm supports the weight of your head.‘es mejor’

  He envelopes you under the blankets and it takes all your willpower not to roll him over and straddle him. You don’t even know him. He buries his face in your neck and sniffs again inhaling your scent. You’re practically skin to skin in your satin slip dress and his bare chest and boxers. 

  “Is this okay?” His voice barely above a whisper as you nod your head. His lips ghost over your back before he kisses your shoulder. It’s those soft sleepy kisses adorning your body until the real sleep claims you both. 

  ****

  You awake to the feel of cold sheets beside you as you feel around for him. A sliver of light hits the room from the bathroom door slightly ajar. 

  “I swear to god Jake, if you fuck this up.”

Jake -he has a name

  It’s mostly Marc speaking idle threats as you listen in to a one sided conversation. Whatever his reservations may be, it's none of your business. You do know that he would never do anything intentionally to fuck this up. 

  Your boyfriend exits the bathroom still dressed only in his black boxers. “Love…we need to talk to you about something.” 

  He sits on the edge of the bed as he rubs circles on your legs under the sheets. 

  “I know.” 

  They knew…it’s why they can’t be mad when you finally talk about the stranger. You fell in love with him a long time ago. The one they tried to keep a secret. He no longer wanted to be kept in the dark. He loves you too much. This stranger in your house. 

@chichimisaki @simpforbritgents @casa-boiardi @missdictatorme @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @melodygatesauthor @missbeverlyhills

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated

Dejeme ver-Let me see

Mierda quedate ahi-Shit stay there

Asi- just like that

Es mejor- that’s better

[dazzlingjaeyun]

xᴍᴀꜱ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟ – ᴊᴜɴɢᴡᴏɴ ⊹˚꙳⁺⋆₊･*❅

coworker!jungwon x fem!reader

୨୧ genre: fluff, coworkers to lovers (?) | words: 1.5k | cw: a little angst but trust the process!! ୨୧

₊☃️‧₊˚❄️˚₊‧🌨️˚ ⋅

of course you'd be the one to organize your company's christmas celebration. and of course, out of all the people who could have teamed up with you, it just had to be jungwon.

the sweet, bubbly coworker, the sunshine of the team, who got along with everyone but you. you'd thought about it again and again but you couldn't pinpoint a specific moment when things might have gone wrong between you.

from the beginning, you'd been nothing but kind to him, and at first he had been the same. but somewhere along the way, something must have happened that made his responses shorter, his tone sharper and his presence around you rare.

it honestly made you sad. you hadn't just admired his work, you'd genuinely liked him as a person. he was someone you'd looked forward to seeing around in the office, until one day, he wasn't. he seemed to be the kind of person everyone felt comfortable to be around. just not you.

maybe that was why you hesitated as you stood in front of his office, telling yourself you would knock after mentally counting to three – except you had already counted to three at least five times and still hadn’t moved.

just as you raised your hand to finally knock, the door swung open, revealing the man in question who almost ran into you before he could stop himself.

"um... you need anything?" he asked, the cool tone of his voice contrasting his otherwise soft appearance.

he was wearing a loose sweater instead of his usual button-up shirt, his bangs softly falling over his eyes as he blinked at you in confusion.

you snapped out of it only when he awkwardly cleared his throat and took another step back to create a bigger distance between you.

"no, i was gonna," you started, only to hesitate again, not quite sure anymore what you had even come for. he raised an eyebrow, his expectant gaze making you feel like your silence was nothing but a big waste of his time.

"about the christmas event," you finally continued, "i was thinking we could, like, start to plan? or maybe decorate, i already bought everything. only if you have time of course! if not, i can totally do it alone and–"

"now is perfect," he interrupted, a little softer but still firm.

"yeah, no worries, i'll just let you know when–" you started, not having expected him to actually agree until his words finally settled in. "wait, what?"

the corners of jungwon's lip twitched slightly, almost as if he'd start to smile, but he didn't.

"i said now is perfect," he repeated. this time, it wasn't only his words that surprised you, but the sudden softness in his voice, almost the way he'd used to talk to you before whatever had happened.

you blinked at him, your expression blank, as he just wordlessly pushed past you and lead the way to the conference room.

by the time you caught up with his fast steps, he was already inspecting the boxes of decorations you'd hauled in earlier.

"do we really need all this?" jungwon asked without looking at you, as he carefully pulled out a garland and eyed it.

"absolutely!" you said defensively

absolutely not. you'd bought way too much stuff, a lot that you knew you wouldn't necessarily need but your childish side had told you otherwise.

as jungwon stepped on the small ladder and started putting up the garlands, you rummaged around in one of the boxes untily your eyes landed on the bottle of glitter that you'd (unnecessarily) bought to decorate pinecones with.

jungwon glanced at you from the corner of his eye once he stepped off the small ladder to grab another garland.

"careful with that," he said causually before turning around again to attach the next garland.

"duh," you replied as you kept on struggling to open the bottle, "careful is my middle name."

with one final tug, the lid popped off abruptly, the sudden pull causing at least half of the glitter to land in your lap and all over your blouse.

jungwon turned around as he heard the 'plop' and let out the tiniest chuckle at the sight of you half covered in glitter.

"and i was gonna say you might ruin your shirt with it," he said with amusement.

"too late," you murmured back, putting the now half-empty bottle on the floor and trying to rub the glitter off your shirt with a tissue – only to smear it even more.

jungwon hopped off the small ladder with a sigh, quickly pulled his sweater over his head to reveal the black tshirt he was wearing underneath, and handed you the sweater.

"you can wear that, or you can walk around like a shiny ornament for the rest of the day," he said when you hesitated to take it.

you took it, waiting for him to give you a reassuring nod and quickly went to the restroom to get rid of your glittery blouse and pull on his sweater instead.

when you went back to the conference room, jungwon shot you a quick look, his expression softening a little at the sight of you in his clothes.

the two of you continued to decorate and plan and you started to feel more comfortable as time passed and your conversation flowed more easily.

you didn't even realize how much time had passed until a sudden loud whistle of wind drew your attention to the windows. outside, the snowfall was so heavy that you could barely see beyond the endless flurry of white flakes.

you exchanged a quick glance with jungwon and grabbed your phone to check the time, only for it to ring with an emergency weather alert.

"guess we're stuck here for now?" jungwon asked after reading the message on his own phone.

you shrugged with a sigh, "i guess."

"i'll go make tea, you want some?" he asked, waiting at the door and heading to the kitchen after you nodded.

when he came back just moments later, his fingertips softly brushed against yours as he handed you the cup. you were both sipping in silence, the only sound the whistle of the wind and the steady hum of the heater, until your thoughts slipped out.

"what did i do that made you hate me?" the words rolled off your tongue before you could stop them.

jungwon looked up from his mug in surprise. he blinked at you for what felt like an eternity, until he finally replied, "i don't hate you? never did."

your eyebrows creased. "well, certainly something went wrong. else you wouldn't be like, i don't know. like this."

jungwon sighed, taking a long sip of his tea and staring at the half-empty mug in his hand.

"it's not that i don't like you," he began, adding an almost inaudible, "it's the opposite, actually.

"i guess, i felt–" a loud click interrupted him, followed by sudden silence as the heater in the corner stopped humming.

"great," you mumbled, instinctively tightening your grip around the warm mug.

"we can go back to my office, it should be warm there," he said, standing up and walking toward his office without another word.

he sat down on the small sofa in the corner and motioned you to sit next to him.

"y/n, you're great... at what you're doing," he added the last part awkwardly. "you didn't know they started comparing us? saying you're more efficient, more likeable. that you're the better version of me, basically."

your eyes widened slightly at his words. "who says that?"

"doesn't matter," jungwon replied quickly, "but i guess... it made me feel insecure. i know it's childish to let it out on you, but..."

he stayed silent for a while, before continuing, "no, actually i don't have any excuses. i never meant to make you feel uncomfortable or like i hate you. i like you, really. like, a lot."

you looked at him in surprise, and for a moment, you didn't speak. the snow outside was relentless, the chill creeping into the room despite the warmth of his office and the sweater he'd lent you.

“you’re cold,” he said suddenly, noticing the way you’d pulled down the sleeves to cover your hands fully.

you shook your head, but he frowned, standing up and pulling a blanket out of one of his drawers. "i keep this here for when i stay late. here," without giving you a chance to argue, he shifted closer to you and pulled the blanket over both of you, his arm naturally settling around your shoulders.

only the gesture and his closeness – so close you noticed the soft scent of his shampoo – was enough to send a rush of warmth through you.

“better?” he asked, his voice tender.

you nodded, leaning into him just slightly.

the two of you sat like that for a while, and you just let him hold you close, his fingers tracing soft circles on your shoulder

“jungwon?” you asked, breaking the silence.

“hm?”

“i like you, too."

his arm tightened around you, just slightly, but enough for you to notice. he tilted his head down to look at you, his eyes searching yours.

“yeah?” he asked softly, the corners of his lips curlig up into the faintest smile.

“yeah."

part five of my xmas special. tap here to get to the other members!

© dazzlingjaeyun, 2024. please do not copy.

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❥ perm. taglist: @sudi109 @woniesun @leov3rse @simpjay @beebrightness @jayparked @simjaexy

[suzukiblu]

Day eight of “Kon meets pink kryptonite and decides to fuck Tim and his boyfriend about it” behind the cut. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Pet,” Tim says, idle and easy, and Kon immediately stops caring about anything any more complicated than whatever he’s gonna say next. “Hands behind your back. Show off those pretty tits of yours for me.” 

It’s not actually an active decision, listening to that order; Kon just does it. Or–his body just does it, maybe. His hands go behind his back and one latches around the other’s wrist to hold them there and–and he doesn’t exactly push his chest out a little more than that gesture already did on purpose, but . . . 

Tim told him to “show off” for him. So like–so he maybe does do just a little of that, yeah. 

“They are very, very pretty tits,” Bernard muses, inspecting Kon’s chest with shameless admiration in a gut-heating way. Kon’s dick is definitely not gonna get any softer under these circumstances. “I mean, we're not talking full-on Starfire levels here but we're in that weight class, seriously. My sole criticism is that you didn't see fit to pierce your nips when you got all that metal put in your face and ears. Or your dick, come to think of it. You'd look fucking sweet with a Prince Albert or a Jacob's ladder. Maybe both, I’m a greedy man.” 

Kon feels–flustered, a little, and maybe a little flattered too, even though it’s obviously just another jokey little fantasy Bernard wants to run his mouth about. Just, well . . . this jokey little fantasy . . . 

“I, ah–thought about it, but . . .” he trails off with another flash of embarrassment, trying to figure out how to say but I didn't know anybody who I thought would like it without sounding like a total fucking freak and a half. 

But Tim’s Tim, of course, so he zeroes right in on that and asks, “But what, pet?” 

Kon turns red, and is positive he sounds like a freak and a half when he says, “But I didn’t know anybody who I thought would like it.” 

“. . . ngh,” Tim says. 

“Man, I could get you an online petition going right now and bet your aesthetically-perfect ass it'd go viral inside an hour,” Bernard says very feelingly and while even more shamelessly ogling Kon's chest. Kon–flushes, for some reason, and doesn't really know how to . . . respond, he guesses. 

“Sure,” he tries, not really sure why he feels so fucking flustered about the idea. About the idea of–of maybe changing something about himself like that for . . . for, like . . . or at least because of . . . 

By Tuesday it literally won't even matter if Bernard thinks he'd look good with those piercings, but he can't help thinking–he can't help thinking–well, he could still do it anyway, right? It won't matter anyway, so . . . 

“I mean it,” Bernard says, reaching up to very pointedly pinch one of Kon's nipples and flashing him a crooked grin as he does, and Kon suddenly feels like he's in this position for more reason than Tim just wanting to see it. Like he's–like they actually wanna just–just get out a needle and–tell him to make it invulnerable, tell him to let it through his TTK, tell him to–to let them–

Kon–he thinks he actually might let them, if they actually wanted to.

[a-major-love]

The Time Will Pass

Pairing - Darryl x Neutral!Reader

Summary - The future was coming faster than Darryl would have liked...

Word Count - 742

Warnings - no use of y/n, angst, comfort, established friendship, reader and darryl are 18

A/N - remember how I said this was going to be a fluff piece, well I'm a liar apparently.

1988

Clutter was strewn about all over your bedroom floor, narrowly missing the box with the word DONATE scribbled in thick, black marker on the front. From well loved books with their pages bent, to miscellaneous items of clothing that were hiding in the back of your closet for a year. A pile of notebooks sat on your desk, along with the game Isolation that had somehow lost its two pawns. The board game was now useless, and had a thin layer of dust settled over it. Darryl sat, on a worn out bean bag shoved in the corner of your room, soaking up the sliver of sun that was peaking through your curtains. 

Then there was you, lounging on your bed, lazily flipping through an old Fangoria issue that had been haphazardly shoved in the back of your dresser for three months. 

“I thought you were cleaning your room.”

“I am cleaning,” you said, not bothering to glance at him. “I’m inspecting this magazine, to see if it needs to be thrown away.” 

Darryl scoffed, amused. “Your room looks like a tornado hit it.” 

“Now you’re just being dramatic.” 

He sighed, shaking his head. Yet affection swelled in his chest, quiet and overwhelming. Darryl stretched, reaching his arms toward the ceiling that was littered with blue prismatic star shaped stickers. He remembered one afternoon, walking in to find you balancing on a ladder. When he asked what you were doing, you glared over at him. “I can’t even see the stars from my window, Darryl,” you had complained. “It’s just nothingness, how sad is that?” 

He then spent two hours that day helping you, dragging that ladder across your dull, carpeted floor. Darryl found that the longer he stared up at the stars now, the more he noticed the edges were beginning to peel and curl inwards.  

Nothing gold can stay, right? 

He stood up, and slowly approached your bed, feeling your gaze burn through him. The bed dipped beneath his weight as he sat by your outstretched legs. You peeked up at him, from behind the magazine, expectantly. 

“You’re leaving this weekend,” he stated, fiddling with his thumbs. 

You sighed, setting the magazine on your stomach. “Yeah, on Saturday.” 

Darryl felt along the words in his mouth, how they sat heavy on his tongue, and contemplated swallowing them. “Are you excited for University?” 

“Of course,” you said, “it’s my one chance to get out of Brooklyn, you know that.” 

“Right,” he mumbled, staring at the floor. A long, stuffy silence hung in the air, as every unasked question between you two began to swell up. 

“You’re headed for Princeton next week, Darryl,” you mentioned, leaning forward to catch his line of sight. “It’s all you talked about growing up, like it was the only University in the entire world. You can’t tell me you’re not excited either.” 

In truth, Darryl was looking forward to attending Princeton. Years of late afternoons and nights spent hunched over textbooks, with notes and pencil shavings cluttering the surface of his desk had paid off. You were there for so many of those nights, a warm presence against his back, with your own nose stuffed in a book. The sound of your pen scratching against your notepad, as you would absentmindedly hum to Jody Watley playing from your headphones. All the while, he would be curled over his desk, muttering equations to himself like a madman. 

He didn’t want to think about you not being there anymore, lounging on his bed as if it were your own, the mattress hugging your already imprinted shape. 

“It’ll be different without you,” he admitted, shrugging as if he could somehow shake off years of your friendship. 

“We’ll still talk, and see each other Darryl,” you said, approaching him. The bed dipped as you curled up beside him, placing your head on his shoulder. Blush rose to his cheeks as your familiar warmth rolled over him, quelling his thoughts. “Long distance isn’t the end of the world,” you assured, intertwining your fingers with his, the curve of your palm fitting perfectly over his own. 

He faintly smiled, and pressed his cheek against the top of your head. Acutely aware of the familiarity coiling around in his stomach at the floral scent of your hairspray. Darryl bathed in the prolonged silence between you two, ignoring the sheer weight of memories pressing down on his hunched shoulders. 

The world spun on. 

[cindersnows]

all devils break down

(green<qpr>purple)

You beam into the mirror, inspecting your hair one last time. It never seems to stay fully flat, but at least your bedhead is gone!

Your outfit is good too. A nice sweater jacket fitting for the spring breeze, as well as your usual black top and some blue jeans. Nothing that screams "trying too hard". This is supposed to be casual, after all. You did think very hard on the colors, though— you considered a pink sweater due to the comfort the color gave you and how cherry blossom forests are super pink, but then remembered that one experiment the humans had done about pink as a color slowly stressing inmates out. Maybe blue, but then you'd blend in with the sky too much, and you don't really have any good blues that don't clash with your jeans. Orange doesn't really look good on you, as much as you love the color, and yellow makes you look weird and desaturated. Not that being desaturated is bad, of course, but something cooler brings out your complexion more. Ultimately, you went with a pale green, something that would still stand out while also blending with the grass. Plus, Green really likes the color green. Self absorbed much?

So. Yeah. Not overthinking it at all!

You double-check your inventory, and then climb down the ladder, heading for the nearby portal. This is going to be great! With the picture Green sent, it looks like he put a lot of effort into the picnic too, so there's no way the feeling isn't mutual. You just have to trust him!

You should've noticed with when you arrived and found no picnic basket. Honestly, you should've noticed when he invited you for a picnic. It's clearly revenge for the prank you played on him with Red— how did he find out you planned it? Did she tell him? Did it piss him off? You thought the two of you were on good terms, but you suppose he was just keeping up a ruse so that it'd hurt more when he "pranked" you back.

Smart.

The word is bitter on your tongue. It's also hot on your tongue, as well as the flecks of lava that entered your mouth when you screamed. Rookie mistake, honestly. You automatically pull out a bucket of water, one that you usually keep around to stop yourself from getting hurt when you crash-land, and you splash it over the lava, trying to get the source. Nothing; Obsidian forms and the lava quickly drowns out all the water.

The liquid burns at your legs. It's not a slow sort of deterioration as one would expect, but jabs of sharp pain every few seconds, as if you're just being stabbed over and over, and you're not sure whether that's better or worse.

Your health's down to two hearts now. Green's holding up his phone and recording, his back turned to you. Still, you know he can see you.

You hope the camera captures your watery glare. You're sure that's what he wants.

You feel your stomach drop, and for a second there's confusion, before your vision goes black and you're back in your bed. His laughs still echo in your ears.

You've been watching his videos, of course. Eagerly liking each one, although you share your comments with him over text. He's responded with enthusiasm to each one. He'll probably post this shit as a video too, and his stupid mindless fans will flock to compliment him without even thinking.

You don't think you'll send him a message for this next one though.

You want to take some sort of revenge, go to his PC and knock his lights out in front of his friends, or maybe destroy his instruments to spite him. You try to recall that hatred you felt back after you'd first met him and gotten kicked out of the village, the anger that propelled you for months to beat him up in League.

There's nothing, though. Instead of fire, you just feel some cold disappointment. There's a numbness in your chest.

You remain where you respawn. For some reason, it's hard to move. It's hard to do anything other than think, and even then, your thoughts feel a little muffled. Like someone else is thinking them for you. 

But hey. At least it makes it easier for you to think logically? Mango would commend you for this, honestly. You're keeping your temper!

You take a look at the facts.

Number one: You helped Red plan a prank on Green. You thought this was normal for friends, but you guess not. It's not like you're very good and figuring out when your friends will be upset anymore.

Number two: Green got upset about this.

Number three: What if it wasn't about the prank, though? Maybe he was just waiting for an excuse to hurt you?

Number four: Even if he wanted to hurt you, it's okay, because you deserve it. You hurt him first, and then again, and then again. He's allowed to hate you. He's allowed to hurt you. It's not like you're not used to it.

Number five: But didn't he forgive you for that? You told him why you did it. You said sorry. You said you were bad. You wear your horns, a reminder that you messed up. He knows that.

Number six: But did he really forgive you? He never said the words "I forgive you." He said to fight back against King.

Number seven: He never said the words "I forgive you."

Number eight: He just needed you on his side so he could win. He didn't care about how you actually felt.

Number nine: None of your friends actually care about you. They only tolerate you because Green told them to. Green only told them to because he wants you on his side in case he needs anything.

Number ten: Mango doesn't care about you either. They just keep you around because you remind them of their daughter. And even then you fuck that up, running off whenever instead of just staying with them so they can cope with their empty nest syndrome.

Number eleven: But that's King's problem, not yours.

Number twelve: They only keep you around because you're useful.

Number thirteen: You'd be better off without them.

Your hand moves of its own accord, removing your phone from your inventory and clicking it on.

You'd be better off without them.

You block all their contacts. You don't even hesitate. It's laughably easy, honestly, like you've been waiting to do it this whole time.

You'd be better off without them.

You axe down your house without even realising. You take your essentials. You grab a rocket and set it off, barely feeling the heat as you launch into the sky.

You'd be better off without them, and this is going to prove it.

[hotheadedhero]

In Unrequited Love - Part 2

AN: When I say that writing this part had me feral, I don't mean it lightly. This part ended up being over 2000 words, blimmin heck. It had me losing sleep, losing sanity, and my grasp on reality and going insane. All in good ways of course! It got angstier than I originally intended but, man, I'm a sucker for it. I think you guys are too ;)

Part 1 - Part 3

Warning: angst for reader's lacking self-preservation, silly dummy, but Donnie is also a dumb-dumb, so you're as bad as each other really.

Donatello x Reader

Every explanation you can come up with to try and disregard your feelings for the tallest of the turtle brothers has only been met with more anguish. First, you theorised it to be some kind of miscommunication with your emotions, that you had merely misread a deep level of friendship as a new crush. Then, you tried to reason with yourself that it was a rebound - a re-focussing of such feelings onto someone else who likes spending time with you. Neither holds enough weight to get out of this funk, however. You’re chain-bound. 

Then begged the question: what are you to do about it? Realistically, what can you do about it? Not once have you had the courage to even try and say something to Casey, so what makes you think this is any different? If anything, it’s worse. Not only because Donatello is so helplessly in love with April, but because you are so much more hopelessly in love with him. Even the way you used to feel about Jones wasn’t this overwhelming. 

You hate it. You hate it so damn much and, yet, you can’t stop yourself from spending most of your free time in that forsaken laboratory. There’s a saying that keeps coming to mind whenever you find yourself aiding him with inventions and experiments: fool me once, shame on you - fool me twice, shame on me. You certainly feel the fool and more so after a particular incident. A word used candidly but it felt like an incident at the time. The details are foggy but you believe it had something to do with the daughter of The Foot - Karai - and a new robotic toy of hers. Donnie had come in and saved the day, earning a kiss on the cheek from his crush by the end of it. To say that it stung is an understatement.

Nothing appeared to change after that day other than the joy your new infatuation must have been riding on since. You hadn’t even taken note of how it’s affected you. You don’t take notice of it at all. Yes, you still regularly visit the lab but less so to help out. As of late, it is you who is being helped. A habit which has become the norm where the purple-clad turtle finds himself patching you up. Almost every time you see him, there’s a new bump, bruise, or scratch that needs tending to and every time he does what he can to make it better.

Today is no different. If anything, it has to be the worst of your afflictions that he’s seen to date. The first few times were viewed in mild hilarity but he’s not finding these frequenting successions of being your first aider funny anymore. He currently has you sat in his desk chair, knelt down and worriedly looking over your ankle. The pigment of your skin is only slightly discoloured but it’s clear from the way you hobbled in a few moments ago that it can’t handle much weight right now. Carefully, he holds a cold compress against the affected area, earning a jolted hiss from your person. He winces himself and mutters a quiet apology. Some silence follows until he decides he needs to know exactly what you did to warrant such a bad injury. 

“What happened this time?” he asks as he continues to inspect the contusion, making sure nothing is broken beneath. 

“I just slipped whilst I was coming down the ladder,” you admit casually. “Think there’s been some rain recently, so it’s my own fault for not wearing grippier shoes.”

Your answer is marginally concerning for two reasons: it hasn’t rained for at least a few days now and he’s seen the way you work - how careful you are when you’re helping him with mechanics or measuring various chemicals. This isn’t like you. Retrospectively, he hasn’t known you long but he likes to think you’ve hung out enough for him to discern that you aren’t typically this clumsy. He’s even detected a drop in your mood. You don’t crack out as many jokes with him, nor have you spoken much about Casey. The band of his mask creases over his furrowing brows and he slowly looks up at you.

“Is everything okay?” he inquires carefully, mindful of the potentially sensitive question. “You seem… out of sorts lately. If it’s something to do with Casey-”

“It’s not Casey,” you interrupt, rather abruptly he notices. Sighing, you quickly attempt to correct yourself and slump into the seat. “I dunno. It might be. I think I’m just done with all the love stuff at this point.” 

You end on a bitter cadence, one that has Donatello sinking. His heart breaks knowing that yours has been taken away and trampled on by this mess. It well and truly hurts him to see you this way, to hear that you’re energy has been depleted because of this. Then, like a jab to the gut, it all comes to fruition. The ugly canvas decorated with the hard, cold facts paints this horrifying image before his mind: your physical pain is a manifestation of that from within. Whether it’s intentional or not, it’s still an alarming prospect. Swallowing past the nausea permeating and rising into his throat, he takes a moment to reflect on how best to help you. He doesn’t want to be the one to tell you that you should keep pursuing that ragged hockey puck-lover but he also doesn’t want to see you in such disarray. He can’t bear the thought that you might get hurt worse than this.

With a steadying breath, he takes your hands in his own and smiles up at you sympathetically. “Don’t say that. You never know. There’s still time for things to change in your favour.”

If only he knew how much that gaze of his torments you; how his hands make yours burn cold. You silently beg of him to not look at you with such warmhearted affection, that the very thing he believes to have ruptured your heart is not Casey but is him. Part of you wishes that you could get angry and blame this on him for being so sweet, funny, and an overall joy to be around but that wouldn’t be fair. The reality is that you can’t blame anyone, not even yourself. Feelings can’t be forced nor can they be changed. Your eyes drop to the two sets of hands that rest on your lap, knowing you can’t stand to stare into those puppy-dog maroons much longer. 

Unenthused, you hum, “Guess so. Seems like you’re a little more on the hopeful side after that kiss on the cheek, huh?”

He glances away with an awkward smile. Everyone may assume that his head must have exploded when that happened and it would have done were it not for a certain change of circumstance. April kissing his cheek was ironically what led to him realising he loves you. At first, he was entirely confused. Why didn’t he get that round of butterflies? The heart palpitations? There wasn’t even a wild glee that he would have expected with something that monumental happening. Maybe there wasn’t supposed to be. He would have to look into it, he thought, and test it to figure out what was going on. An experiment that didn’t even make it to the drawing board. 

No more than an hour later, Donnie’s tending to a burn on your arm after you spilt boiling coffee on yourself; the first domino to fall in this onset of injuries he would serve medical attention to. Seeing you hurt struck something fierce within him. He had this sudden urgency to protect you, care for you, and look after you. Then, followed a quick daydream of holding you in his arms, close to his body and safe from any and all extraneous variables that could threaten you. It flashed before his eyes with such volatile ammunition he almost stumbled over the dressing work he had been so carefully wrapping around your forearm. That’s when he realised and, boy, he couldn’t look you straight in the eye for the remainder of that day. 

Perhaps, in a way then, your words ring true. He likes to believe he’s more hopeful. He likes to think he stands a better chance with you with how often you hang out and how well you get along. That’s why he doesn’t want you to give up on love. Regardless of where your sights are set, if you’re done with love, that’s his chance gone completely. He wants to keep that hope alive in you as well. Even if it’s for someone else, he doesn’t want you to be devoid of that sensation. It can hurt but it’s still a beautiful experience in his eyes. 

Realising your smaller fingers are still overlapped in his, he blushes - a blush you assume to be the result of your conversation. He finally withdraws his grasp lest he risks you experiencing the backlash of his suddenly clammy palms. It’s about time that he secures your ankle in a bandage, anyway. 

Ignoring your question altogether, he laughs nervously and clears his throat. “Well, the good news is that nothing is broken. Most of the fall was taken by your ligaments, though, so you won’t be able to walk properly for a few days. My recommendation is you rest at home in the meantime.”

You toss your head back into the chair and groan out lethargically, “If only I could replace it with a robotic one, hm?” Along with your overly attached, love-sick heart. “Would make things easier.”

“As long as you know to come here for repairs. Robotic limbs need just as much care and attention as organic ones.”

Glancing away, your lips turn up at the sides bashfully. There’s a smile. A genuine smile. He’s been waiting all day - a few days - to see one of those. What a dork. You can only hope your ankle does a fast job of getting better. At least that means no school for a few days but it’s still a bother. Simultaneously, that means no visits to the lair until you’re healed up. The thought is upsetting but you can’t help thinking it might do you some good; a bit of distance to calm the erratic, painful ache of the suffering muscle that sits behind your ribcage. Distance and distraction. On the topic of distractions, a particular object of interest has caught your eye from across the room: a small, rectangular mound hidden beneath a thin layer of cloth.

“Hey, what’ve you got under this?” 

You don’t even wait for an answer, opting to propel yourself over to his desk with your good foot. The office chair glides along the floor and, before he can stop you, you’re already pulling the tarp from this mystery item. For someone who’s just injured their ankle, you’re annoyingly quick to feed curiosity’s temptation. Your snoopiness would reveal a narrow box, that which you open too, further revealing a slim sliver of chain with a charm sitting comfortably in the centre of it. Said charm is a purple turtle and you don’t have to think hard to figure out that this is a gift for a certain red-head. It’s magnificently crafted if not a little corny but you can commend his boldness.

“I’m sure April will like it,” you say sweetly enough that it masks the disdain bubbling in your throat. With a quiet sigh, you return the necklace to its resting place, fingertips brushing over the top of the box. “If she doesn’t, though, I… think it’s beautiful.”

Truthfully, that’s the only appraisal he’s looking for, especially seeing as he’s made it for you. He should take the opportunity whilst he’s riding on that high. You like it. He should just say that it’s for you. Get it out there and proclaim his feelings if not at least allude to them but the melancholy behind your eyes chokes him out of trying. It’s not the right time. Your heart is fragile - far too fragile to be here any longer, you’ve decided. 

“Thanks again for helping out,” you mumble, swallowing past a lump whilst you attempt to stand. “Better make a start on resting, huh?”

Quickly, he holds an arm out in case you need to grab onto it, face scrunched and brows raised from the middle. “H-Hey, wait! Can I at least walk you back home? That manhole cover is gonna be a struggle let alone the ladder to get to it.”

Cursing the kindness of this tall terrapin would be cruel but he just makes it so darn difficult to not fall more victim to your feelings. You would love nothing more than to take his offer. Wholehandedly, you would within a quarter of a second. There’s just one teeny tiny problem, however. 

“I appreciate the offer, Donnie, but it’s still daytime,” you remind him. 

In his overzealousness, he had missed that fact. A seemingly obvious detail that he wouldn’t typically forget were he not so worried about you. He is not letting you go back to the surface alone in your current condition - both the physical and mental. Wishing to be human isn’t a naturally occurring thought but it’s currently a prevalent desire. How is he meant to ensure a safe trip home if he can’t go topside? Just as begins formulating a plan, a certain dark-apparelled miscreant passes the lab. Donnie can’t believe he’s actually going to do this but it seems like the only option. 

“Casey.” He raises a hand dilatorily to catch the teenager’s attention. “Any chance you could escort (Y/n) home?”

Casey takes one look at your wrapped ankle and throws out two finger guns with a wink. “Jones is on the case.”

He understood the assignment quickly enough at least. Hooray for him. Donatello is prompt to smile when you cast him an estranged glance. You reckon he’s trying to wingman you, which is almost hilarious. If only he knew. Your “escort” temporarily donates you his hockey stick as a makeshift crutch and places a hand between your shoulder blades as extra leverage whilst walking you out. Donnie may have been lying to himself before. He doesn’t want you to be devoid of love but he doesn’t want your love to be directed elsewhere like he had initially tried to come to terms with. It should be him. He wants it so badly to be him. Pitifully, he watches you leave, hearing Casey remark something along the lines of “you’re in safe hands” before the two of you are out of earshot. Such friendly, flirtatious comments from your prior crush would have had you in a tizzy but, weirdly, you find comfort in them. It’s a short moment of silence for your incessant pining. 

Now, all there is to do is hope that your forced rest isn’t met with bedridden wallowing for the oncoming days.

I know the first kiss on the cheek moment doesn't really fit with how it goes in the show but that's the point of fanfiction, is it not? :P Hope you enjoyed! I'm gonna lie down now, holy jeebus

[planetkiimchi]

close proximity | l.t

featuring: best friend!ten x gn!reader

word count: 925 words

author's note: happy holidays everyone!! this drabble was written for my beloved zanna <3 it's also a part of the @k-films advent calendar event for the day 7 prompt, kissing under the mistletoe.

“Y/n?”

“Yeah?” You craned your neck to look over at Ten, the mistletoe plant hanging lopsidedly from the ceiling while you kept your hand pressed against the ceiling to maintain your balance. Your other hand rested on the ladder to keep yourself steady.

Ten emerged from the bedroom with a blush stick and contour in his hand. “Could you help me put on some makeup before the party later?”

“Of course.” You set the mistletoe down on the top of the ladder before slowly climbing down. 

You led Ten to sit on the couch, allowing him to place the makeup he was holding on the coffee table. “Have you washed your face?”

He nodded. Your eyes widened in pleasant surprise.

“Wait here.” You disappeared into the room for a few moments before you emerged again with a packet of blotting paper and a couple of new makeup brushes you had bought recently. Sitting on the couch next to Ten, you drew a piece of blotting paper out and demonstrated how to use it.

Ten watched you attentively, lips caught between his teeth as he nodded thoughtfully. Then, under your careful eye, he mimicked your actions, discreetly letting out a sigh of relief when you nodded in approval.

When his face was clean, you raised the contour stick to his face, bracing your palm against his cheek as you drew a line on his nose. You gently blended it out with a makeup brush before highlighting the tip of his nose and letting out a giggle.

“What?” Ten raised his eyebrows, searching for his phone. “Do I look funny?”

You shook your head, swallowing your laughter. “You look really cute.”

Ten shrugged. “Okay then.”

You added some blush before blending it out, then attempted to contour his jaw—but not without some amount of struggling. When that was done, you tilted his chin this way and that, smiling proudly when you saw how the end result looked. You brought him to the bathroom mirror, arms crossed as you leaned against the doorway and waited for him to take a look at himself.

“You look good,” you stated matter-of-factly while Ten admired himself in the mirror.

“Can I do yours?”

You raised a sceptical eyebrow at the suggestion, then shrugged. “Sure. The same things that I did for you?”

Ten nodded.

You went back out into the living room, sitting on the couch while Ten sat next to you, blush in hand as he inspected your cheeks.

“Where do I put the blush?”

You traced your cheekbones with your finger as you explained, “You can feel my cheekbones here. That’s where you should put the blush.”

“O-kay.” Ten leaned in closer, eyes slightly wide, biting his lip in concentration as he drew a line across your cheekbone with the blush stick. You drew in a ragged breath, trying not to make eye contact with him, feeling your heart beat quicker.

Once he had drawn on a line on both cheeks, he pulled away, and you breathed out shakily. Reaching for your phone, you turned the camera on and looked at yourself, turning your head to the side and staring at your cheeks.

“That’s too much,” you laughed, half in disbelief at how red your cheeks were, half in relief that his face was no longer so close to yours.

“No, wait, lemme fix it–” Ten held your face firmly in one hand as he used his other thumb to smudge the blush, rubbing your skin until he was satisfied. “There. Much better.”

You reached for your phone again, but he grabbed your wrist and shook his head. “Nuh uh. You can see it when I'm done. Now, contour.”

He showed the contour stick to you, flipping it both ways before saying, “Yep, this side’s contour.”

“Let me check?” Upon confirming that the side he was using was, in fact, contour and not highlighter, you allowed him to experiment with it on your face, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he tried to find your jawline, soft hands cautious each time he touched your skin.

The contour stick glided smoothly against your nose as he drew on your face, each line accompanied by some amount of blending using his thumb. 

You averted your eyes, tilting your chin to the side so he could see your jawline more clearly. Your gaze caught on the mistletoe lying on the couch next to his thigh, and you reached for it, holding it above your head to show Ten.

As you turned around, coming face-to-face with Ten, your breath hitched in your throat at the close proximity to him.

His fingers lingered on your chin, and you found your question dying on your lips as he gently pulled you in for a kiss.

As you pulled away, his eyes flitted up to the mistletoe above your heads, shrugging, “I had to do it. It’s tradition.”

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. “What?”

“Kissing under the mistletoe,” he said simply, reaching for your jaw to smudge the contour a little.

You jerked back as if scalded. “Just tradition?”

Ten stopped, leaning backwards slightly to get a batter look at your expression. “Do you want it to be anything more?”

You huffed a sigh. “Do you?”

“I mean, I’d like that, yes, that’s why I kissed you in the first pla–” You cut him off swiftly with a kiss, then, blushing furiously, turned your face away.

Ten leaned in teasingly, shoving his face all up in yours. “Glad to know you want it too.”

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[cutiibee]

An Armoured Ghost

Chapter Three

MDNI!

Note: changing up the way I do these so they're easier for me haha, much luv and hope u guys enjoy! +A tag for the series

Cw: nothing? Maybe?? I forget? Pretty sure nothing though guys

You wake up to the ship's sudden stillness. The movement of it, steadily drifting through hyperspace, lulled you to sleep. That and the post-orgasm tiredness that had sunken over you like a blanket.

You stop in the fresher to look at yourself. The same as the last time you looked. You relieve yourself and then it's up the ladder, into the seat beside him.

“Do you sleep?” The words come unbridled, curious. You simply want to know more about him, even if that's all useless information. It's not like you're going to write him birthday notes.

“When I'm tired.” He answers, and you frown. You think he's just like that, doesn't really answer questions because he doesn't want people to know him how he knows himself.

And in a way you understand. It's a terrifying notion, somebody knowing you as well as you know yourself. Every filthy thought, wretched secrets, all known by somebody other than you. It makes you shudder, metaphorically.

You look at the side of his helmet for a long moment. He doesn't make any move to usher you into the cryo tank. You play with your hands, inspect your nail beds, which suck.

“I'm not turning you in.” It's sudden, his voice monotone and gritty cutting through the still air of the cockpit.

“Ghost-” you try his name and it feels familiar on your tongue.

“Gonna pay off the debt for ya, yeah?” He says it so calmly, like it's an obvious thing to do, a simple favor for a friend.

“You can't do that. Really, there isn't any need for you to do that.”

“I want to, birdie. Wanna keep you around. Simple as that.”

For the next two nights you sleep in his bed. Eventually you tire of sitting next to him quietly and trying your arm at cleaning the ship. He's got a couple of books but two are in a language you don't know.

One of them is about the mechanics of a ship. It even comes with practice tests, a few pages in the back. You tank the first one you try entirely.

The ship lands on the third day. It's a far away planet, misplaced from everything else.

“Don't leave the ship, yeah? Dangerous creatures lurk about ‘round here. They like the shadows.” He tells you, standing by the open hatch. He looks you up and down once before turning and walking down the ramp, his heavy boots clunking with each step, though you know he can be quiet when he wants to be.

He's gone for a week. You nearly go stir-crazy waiting around for him. The entire ship is sparkling and you've taken three practice tests and passed them all.

In the dead of night you hear the hatch open and close, footsteps and the sound of something heavy being dragged. A brief moment of silence before the whirring of what’s probably the cryo freezing the body.

The door slides open a few seconds later, and there he is in his armoured glory. He comes over to the bed and sinks down beside it.

“Move over.” He says, nudging your shoulder with a strong hand. You oblige, wriggling to the other side of the bed. And then he's climbing in beside you even though there's barely enough room for the two of you.

His arms settle around your waist.

“Place looks fuckin’ shiny. Y’miss me, birdie?” He sounds weary, that much you can discern from the slight drag of his words, the way his head is resting against the pillow even as he talks to the back of your own head.

“Course. Was boring without you.” You mumble back and he makes a sound that might be a grunt if acknowledgement.

You're not quite sure what's growing between the two of you. He's so scary, so quiet. And yet he's paying off your debt and keeping you on board. You have no idea why.

Maybe you won't ever. At least you aren't dying any time soon.

“Need me to entertain you?” He asks, one of his large palms gliding up your stomach to fondle your tit, plucking at your nipple through your top.

“You sound like you need sleep.” You retort, and his hand stills. As if that subdued him, he tucks his helmet against your shoulder and falls asleep.

It's an odd sort of intimacy. Something you aren't familiar with. The warmth you get when his hands touch you. The ache that forms subtly between your thighs.

You feel close to him, but emotionally separated. You know close to nothing about this man, who shrouds himself in secrecy thicker than his mandalorian armor.

Perhaps you'll get to learn about him more as things go on, as time passes with you always there, always following him around the ship.

It isn't too long until you're pulled back to sleep by the press of his chest plate against your back. You didn't think armor could be comfortable, but somehow it is.

When you wake up it's because he's moving. It's dark, at some point he shut all the lights off. So dark you can't see a foot in front of your face.

“Ghost?” You sit up and reach through the darkness. Your hand connects with warmth, bare skin. You jolt it back, breathing in a sharp hiss. He laughs into the dark between the two of you, and the sound is clear as day.

“You took it off.” You whisper dumbly, because you aren't sure what more to say. He's taken his chest plate and helmet off.

“You were shivering.” He replied, and a hand smooths up the side of your neck to cup your jaw. He leans in, and you can tell because his breath puffs against your face. “Y’looked so pretty sleepin’.” He murmurs, his thumb dragging over your bottom lip.

“Ghost,” it's a whimper that frees itself from your mouth because you're practically pulsing now, his bare touch and raw voice combined doing sinful things to you.

“I'll leave you be, pet. If tha's what you want.” You can almost hear the cheeky grin in his voice, because he knows that's just the opposite of what you want.

It's a leap of faith, and a struggle in the dark, but you gingerly tilt your head forward until your lips brush against the sturdiness of his jawline.

“Don't leave me be, Ghost. Touch me.”

He groans, really groans, and then his mouth is crashing down against yours, his tongue invading the cavern of your mouth, and you think that you'd gladly go blind if it meant he could kiss you like this all the time.

It's messy, your teeth knock against his multiple times. But it's so hot, literally and figuratively. He knows just what to do and it leaves you sighing into his mouth, pressing yourself closer against the hard plane of his chest.

He gets your shirt over your head at one point so he can grope at your chest while he kisses you, your back pressed against the mattress.

It ends when he pulls away for more than normal, and then his weight leaves the bed altogether. At some point the ship had stopped moving.

“We're here. I'll be back soon, dovie.” You wince at the sound of his voice coming through the modulator again, but relent.

“Alright. Where are we?”

“Where I get my bounties. And where I'm paying off your debt.”

[sweetrululu]

“The Chime of a Forgotten Bell”(Helsa Au)

The air in the great hall of Arendelle Castle was thick with a peculiar blend: the fresh scent of pine, carried in from the nearby forests, and a faint trace of human frustration that no festive air freshener could mask. That grand hall, imposing in its architecture, was currently under the obsessive scrutiny and detailed instructions of Princess Anna, whose mood, as radiant as a midsummer’s noon, drove the Christmas decorations with the fervor of a general commanding their army.

Unfortunately for Hans, the role of foot soldier fell entirely to him.

At that moment, the unlucky knight found himself perched atop a wobbly ladder, attempting to hang a decorative garland on one of the grand wooden arches. His boots slid precariously on the top rung while Anna, standing firmly at the base with her hands on her hips and eyes alight with enthusiasm, issued commands with the precision of a metronome.

“A little more to the left, Hans! No, wait… a bit higher! Actually, bring it down a touch. Yes, yes… just there!” Anna said, her voice cheerful but beginning to spark an involuntary twitch in Hans’s left eye.

“Up, down, left, right?” Hans thought as he adjusted the garland. “Why not just ask me to dangle from the ceiling like some kind of human decoration? I’m sure the hall would shine brighter with my physical suffering.”

Though his mind swirled with biting, sarcastic retorts, Hans kept a perfectly neutral expression. He had learned, after endless days enduring Anna’s directives, that his sarcasm was utterly lost on the princess’s unyielding optimism.

“Ah, perfect!” Anna exclaimed at last, clapping her hands with a triumphant smile. “Although, now that I look at it, maybe you should move it a little more toward the center…”

Hans gritted his teeth—and the garland—simultaneously. If his patience were a velvet ribbon, Anna was about to unravel it entirely.

“Is this good, Your Excellency?” Hans asked, his polite tone dripping with sarcasm.

Anna narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing his work critically.

“No. It’s crooked. Can’t you manage something so simple? Maybe I should do it myself.”

Hans glanced down at her, his tight smile baring his teeth.

“Please, go ahead. Climb up and demonstrate your unparalleled talent for hanging garlands. I promise to hold the ladder with absolute devotion.”

“And leave you on the ground? No, thank you,” Anna shot back, crossing her arms. “You’d probably make me fall.”

Hans swallowed the retort that was poised on his tongue, though the spark of irritation remained alive in his chest. He descended the ladder with an exaggerated sigh, setting the garland on a nearby table.

“Perhaps what you need isn’t help but a miracle,” he said, shrugging as he shook off a pine branch stuck to his coat.

Anna ignored the jab and spun on her heel toward another table, where an army of golden bells was neatly arranged.

“Don’t forget to place these on every table and chandelier,” she ordered, her voice tinged with impatience.

Hans picked up one of the bells between his thumb and forefinger, inspecting it with disdain. “Of course, how could I forget the precious little bells? Wouldn’t want the kingdom’s Christmas to be ruined.”

“Don’t just stand there,” Anna snapped, as though reading his thoughts. “Quick; people will be arriving in an hour.”

Hans let out a dramatic sigh as he grabbed another bell.

“It’s good to know my existence has such a noble purpose as hanging bells on chandeliers,” he muttered under his breath.

Anna shot him a sharp glare.

“If your existence had any purpose at all, trust me, we’d know.”

The tension between them filled the hall like a brewing storm. Yet, despite their bickering, the decorations were coming together, and almost miraculously, the hall was beginning to look like a space fit for a royal Christmas.

Hans glanced around, and though he’d never admit it aloud, there was something undeniably beautiful about the room. Not enough to justify the torment he was enduring, of course, but maybe—just maybe—it wasn’t as bad as he’d imagined.

“Are you done yet?” Anna asked, interrupting his thoughts.

“Unless the little bells need their own little bells, I believe so, Your Highness,” he replied, with a mocking tilt of his head.

Just then, a murmur of admiration rippled through the hall. The heavy oak doors opened softly, letting in a breath of icy air that heralded Elsa’s arrival. Her velvet blue dress flowed with the grace of a crystal-clear stream, brushing the steps as she descended slowly. The candlelight danced across the delicate silver embroidery, making her shimmer as though she were an extension of winter itself. Anna looked up, and even Olaf, who had been bouncing around near a pile of boxes, froze in pure and contagious awe, his mouth hanging open.

“Wow!” was the first thing anyone said. Anna, with the enthusiasm of someone seeing her expectations fulfilled, ran to her sister with open arms.

“Elsa, you look amazing!”

“Yes!” Olaf agreed excitedly. “You look like a giant snowflake!”

Elsa let out a laugh.

“Thank you. I wanted everything to be perfect—after all, it’s our first Christmas together,” she said, allowing her sister’s hug to envelop her. Her gaze, however, wandered briefly around the hall, as if searching for something—or someone. And then she saw him.

The smile that had started to form on her lips vanished instantly.

He, on the other hand, stood completely still. His eyes, usually so full of irony and cynicism, reflected something different—something deeper, something that couldn’t and shouldn’t be put into words.

It had been weeks since they last saw each other. Weeks since that night neither of them seemed able to forget. That furtive encounter, wrapped in winter’s complicit silence, had been as brief as it was intense—a stolen moment that had left its mark on both of them in ways neither was willing to admit. Elsa had avoided him ever since, overwhelmed by the confusion of her own feelings and the certainty that whatever it was could not happen. He, on the other hand, had found excuses to see her—excuses that always collided with the distance she kept between them.

Now, face to face, neither dared hold the other’s gaze for too long. Elsa turned back to Anna, who was watching her with a mix of admiration and curiosity.

“The hall looks beautiful. You’ve outdone yourself, sister. Is it ready for the celebration?” Elsa asked, trying to maintain her composure.

Anna, with her seemingly endless energy, replied, “Yes, everything’s ready! Except someone needs to pick up all the stuff lying around,” and her eyes flicked toward a flustered Hans, then to the ladder and empty boxes scattered around the hall.

Hans glared at her with exasperation but said nothing. With an exaggerated sigh, he dragged the items toward the exit. Just before crossing the threshold, he turned slightly—just enough for his eyes to meet Elsa’s. It was only a moment, but the intensity of it seemed to make the air heavier. Neither of them spoke; they didn’t need to. Everything they couldn’t say hung there, suspended between them.

When Hans disappeared through the door, Elsa looked away, fiddling absently with her braid. Anna, oblivious to it all, bounced back to her usual overflowing energy.

Before anyone could speak, a royal guard entered the hall and bowed before Elsa.

“Your Majesty, the bell is in position. The citizens are gathering in the square, waiting for the bell ring”

“Oh, I can’t wait another minute!” Olaf interrupted, spinning around with his arms outstretched. “This is going to be the best moment of my life! … Or until something even more amazing happens.”

Anna laughed and gave him a playful shove.

“Come on, Olaf! Elsa, are you ready?”

Elsa nodded, though a shadow of nervousness lingered on her face.

“Yes, let’s go.”

As they exited the hall, they were greeted by cheers and applause. The air in the square buzzed with anticipation. Elsa, her expression calm but filled with excitement, walked to the rope attached to the great golden bell installed in the bell tower, its surface gleaming under the soft glow of lanterns. The crowd quieted to an expectant hush, and Anna, standing beside her, gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, reminding her she wasn’t alone.

Elsa took a deep breath and began to speak, her voice clear but tinged with an undeniable emotion.

“Citizens of Arendelle,” she began, letting her words carry across the square, “tonight, as we ring the bell that holds so much meaning for our people, I can’t help but remember my father’s words: ‘The true strength of a kingdom lies in the unity of its people.’ Seeing all of you here tonight, I know those words remain true.”

A murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd as Elsa continued.

“Christmas gives us the chance to celebrate the bonds that make us strong: family, friendship, and the love we share. Though this year has brought challenges, I am grateful for your strength and the spirit that keeps Arendelle alive.”

Beside her, Anna smiled warmly, though her eyes glimmered faintly with nostalgia.

“We wish you all a Christmas full of joy and a prosperous New Year,” Elsa concluded. “Let this night be just the beginning of many more celebrations together.”

With those words, Anna and Elsa turned to the bell. Together, they pulled the rope, setting the heavy bell into motion. The sound that followed was deep and resonant, filling not only the air but the hearts of all who heard it.

As the bell rang, a faint hint of nostalgia crossed the sisters’ faces. It had been so long since they’d heard that sound, since they’d felt that feeling. It was impossible not to think back to those days when, as little girls, they’d rung the bell alongside their parents. Elsa let out a barely audible sigh and glanced at Anna. How much things have changed, she thought, though her gaze was filled with gratitude for the moment they were now sharing.

As the echo faded, Elsa’s magic unfurled across the sky. Shimmering snowflakes began to fall, forming fleeting shapes that danced among the plaza’s lights. The crowd erupted in applause and cheers, the spectacle speaking of hope and new beginnings.

Elsa turned to Anna and whispered, “I think it’s time to invite them to the banquet.”

Anna nodded enthusiastically, but as the two of them prepared to speak, they noticed the square beginning to empty. Families, smiling and grateful, were leaving the plaza, carrying the warmth of the moment with them. Elsa frowned, and Anna, a mix of confusion and concern on her face, tried to stop a few people.

“Mr. and Mrs. Olsen!” Elsa called, catching up to an elderly couple slowly making their way out. “Wouldn’t you like to join us in the royal hall for the banquet? It’s prepared especially for all of you.”

Mrs. Olsen gave her a kind smile.

“Oh, Your Majesty, it’s a wonderful gesture, but we have a family tradition: every Christmas Eve, we sew stockings for our grandchildren. It’s a moment we wouldn’t miss for anything.”

Mr. Olsen nodded warmly.

“Besides, we wouldn’t want to intrude on your family traditions. This night is special for you as well.”

Elsa tried to insist, but the couple was already leaving, leaving behind a quiet emptiness that not even the magical snowfall could fill.

When Anna and Elsa returned to the royal hall, they found it completely deserted. The meticulously decorated tables, the gleaming candelabras, the perfectly arranged plates—all of it remained untouched, like a beautiful but forgotten stage.

Anna let out an exasperated huff.

Hans, who had just entered the hall, raised an eyebrow as one of the maids gave him a pat on the arm.

“Well, young Westergard, it seems you’d better start cleaning up.”

Hans closed his eyes and let out a theatrical sigh.

“What? Cleaning up?”

The tragic prince’s energy finally gave out. It seemed a cruel joke of fate, after enduring Anna’s relentless and frantic orders all afternoon.

As Hans began to clear the ornaments from the tables with heavy, deliberate movements, the sisters looked at the hall with sadness.

“Oh, I can’t wait to know what your Christmas tradition is!” Olaf exclaimed, oblivious to the heavy atmosphere. “Tell me, tell me, tell me!”

“Elsa, did we have any family traditions?” Anna asked curiously.

Elsa hesitated, her hands clenching slightly in the folds of her dress.

“Well… we used to ring the Great Christmas Bell.”

“That was for the kingdom, though, wasn’t it? Isn’t there anything else? Something just for us?”

The answer hung in the air, unspoken, because they both knew the truth. They had no personal traditions. The distance created by Elsa’s powers had prevented them from sharing anything beyond fragmented memories.

“When the doors were closed, we were never together.” Elsa averted her gaze, her eyes glistening with tears. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault we don’t have traditions.”

Without another word, she left the hall. Anna tried to stop her, visibly distressed, but Elsa closed the door behind her.

Hans, who had witnessed the exchange, remained silent. Burdened by the weight of the moment, he simply continued his work.

A little later, carrying a stack of boxes in his arms, he headed to the attic. The echo of his footsteps was the only sound accompanying him. But as he turned a corner, he tripped over a decorative tree. The ornaments crashed to the floor with a clatter that reverberated like an echo of his foul mood.

“For heaven’s sake…” he growled, kneeling to gather the fallen items.

“Do you need help?” a soft voice asked from behind him.

Hans looked up, his scowl relaxing instantly. There stood Elsa, her face slightly flushed and her eyes swollen from crying. There was a fragility about her, as if the weight of the night had worn her down.

For a moment, Hans felt his heart soften. Unsure how to respond, he simply nodded.

She knelt beside him, carefully picking up the ornaments with slow, deliberate movements. Neither of them spoke, but the tension in the air was almost tangible. Elsa avoided looking at him directly, while Hans struggled to ignore the trembling in his own hands.

There were so many things they wanted to say, yet the silence between them spoke more than any words could.

Together, they made their way to the attic. The space was cloaked in heavy shadows, barely softened by the dim light of a lamp Hans had awkwardly placed on an old, dusty table. Around them loomed piles of boxes, trunks, and forgotten objects, silent witnesses to Arendelle’s past. Hans dropped the last box with an exasperated sigh.

“Well, at least that’s done,” he muttered wryly, stacking the Christmas decorations in a corner like a chaotic mess. “Don’t worry; it’ll be someone else’s problem next year.”

Elsa let out a faint laugh, though her expression held a trace of melancholy.

“I’m so sorry, Hans. After all the work you did, no one stayed to enjoy it.”

Hans looked up, meeting Elsa’s blue eyes, which gleamed faintly in the lamp’s soft glow.

“It’s not the first time I’ve done something in vain, Elsa.” His tone was light, but there was an undertone of bitterness he couldn’t quite hide.

Elsa lowered her gaze, fiddling with a ribbon dangling from one of the boxes.

“Still… the intention was good. That’s what matters, right?”

Elsa gave a brief, mirthless laugh.

“Of course.”

Hans, still sensing the wall of ice between them, crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. “And you? Are you okay? That argument with Anna… it didn’t seem easy.”

Elsa averted her gaze, pretending to examine a nearby box, but her voice betrayed the tension she felt. “I always ruin everything. We didn’t have traditions together because I never allowed it. It was all my fault.”

Hans took a step closer, his green eyes softening with an expression Elsa hadn’t seen in a long time.

“You can’t carry that guilt, Elsa. It’s not fair.”

Elsa let out a brief, bitter laugh.

“It’s easy to say.”

“Elsa…” Hans began, his voice heavy with something she couldn’t quite identify.

“No, Hans, it’s the truth.” She looked up, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “If it weren’t for me, Anna would have had a normal childhood. A normal life. And my parents…”

Hans fell silent for a moment, his thoughts turning as he kept his gaze locked on her. Finally, he straightened with a sigh that seemed to fill the space between them.

“You know what’s ironic?” he said in a quieter tone. “I didn’t have a normal Christmas either.”

Elsa looked at him, surprised by his confession.

“What do you mean?”

“When my mother died, everything changed.” Hans paused, as if the words were difficult to form. “We used to have simple traditions. Baking cookies together, sitting by the fire… normal things, I guess. But after her… my older brothers started leaving the palace, and Richard—” he laughed humorlessly— “well, let’s just say he wasn’t the kind of person to keep traditions alive.”

Elsa looked at him, moved by the vulnerability in his words.

“That sounds… so lonely.”

Hans held her gaze, his voice soft when he replied.

“It was.”

“Hans, I don’t know your brother like you do, but… he cares about you. He wants you to be a good man and to be okay. Did you even send him a letter for Christmas?”

Hans laughed bitterly.

“I guess you’re not the only one who feels guilty about some things.”

For a moment, silence filled the attic, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was a silence heavy with understanding, as if they both recognized a reflection of their own pain in the other.

Finally, Hans straightened, his gaze fixed on her.

“Elsa…” he said, his tone firmer now, his voice laden with something he seemed to have held back for weeks. “Can we talk about what happened?”

Elsa felt the air grow heavier around her.

“Hans, I don’t think—”

“Please.” He interrupted her, taking a step closer. “You’ve been avoiding me this whole time. You pulled me from your service and reassigned me to… what? Cleaning libraries, cutting grass? But what we did that night… what I told you… hasn’t changed.”

Elsa felt a lump in her throat, but Hans didn’t give her time to respond.

“I still feel the same way about you, Elsa. And I know you feel it too. Because that night, even if just for a moment… you reciprocated me”

Hans took another step toward her, until only a few inches separated them. She could feel his warmth, his overwhelming presence.

“It’s not right,” Elsa began to say, but the words caught in her throat. She wanted to tell him it was impossible, that there was a chasm between them that couldn’t be crossed, but her gaze betrayed her resolve.

Hans raised a hand, barely brushing her arm, and the touch made Elsa close her eyes for a moment. She suddenly felt a familiar warmth coursing through her body, the same she had felt that night weeks ago. The impulse to lean into him, to let go, overwhelmed her with an intensity that almost frightened her.

She looked at him, her eyes shining with a mixture of desire and fear. Slowly, as if afraid to break a spell, she lifted her hands and placed them on Hans’s face. Her fingers were soft, trembling slightly but steady in their purpose. She caressed him with an almost reverent delicacy, as if she were trying to memorize every detail of his skin, every contour that felt so familiar yet so forbidden.

Hans held his breath, frozen under her touch. His eyes searched hers, and in them, he found a vulnerability that disarmed him completely.

Elsa tilted her head slightly toward him, her lips just a whisper away. Her heart pounded fiercely, and for an instant that felt eternal, she allowed herself to forget everything: the responsibilities, the fears, the consequences. All that existed was Hans, and the chasm between them seemed to be closing.

The heat of their closeness was intoxicating, and Hans raised a hand to brush the edge of her face, his fingers barely touching her, as if he still couldn’t believe what was about to happen.

But just as Elsa leaned in a little more, a loud crash shattered the moment.

The stacked boxes in the corner toppled over with a dull thud, scattering ornaments across the floor and revealing an old trunk. Both of them instinctively stepped back, as if reality had suddenly hit them. Elsa dropped her hands, quickly clasping them in her lap, while Hans ran a hand through his hair, trying to regain his composure.

“Well, that was convenient,” he said, his voice laced with soft sarcasm, though his gaze lingered on Elsa, still caught in the glow of what had almost happened between them.

“I nearly had a heart attack,” Elsa muttered, trying to catch her breath.

Hans could swear the temperature dropped a few degrees in that instant.

She cleared her throat, attempting to dispel the heat rising to her face. She stepped toward the trunk, as if moving would break the spell still lingering in the air.

“It’s… my childhood trunk,” she said in a tone that tried to sound casual but betrayed the swirl of emotions inside her.

Hans tilted his head slightly, observing her with curiosity. “What’s in it?”

“Probably… a lot of gloves.”

He raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a smile that mixed disbelief and amusement. “I don’t believe you.”

With deliberate ease, Hans crouched down and opened the trunk. Immediately, a cascade of gloves spilled onto the floor, spreading out like a carpet of forgotten memories.

Hans let out a brief, surprising laugh as he picked up one of the gloves. He held it between his thumb and forefinger, inspecting it as if it were an artifact in a museum.

“This is ridiculous.”

Elsa managed a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Welcome to my world.”

Hans glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, intrigued by the shadow of melancholy that crossed her expression. Her tone had been light, almost humorous, but there was something deeper beneath it—a sadness she couldn’t entirely mask.

As he continued sifting through the gloves, something different caught his eye. Among the pile of fabric, a small, worn stuffed animal emerged. He lifted it carefully, as if afraid it might fall apart, examining it with curiosity.

“And who’s this little guy?”

Elsa froze, hesitating for a moment. Then, in a voice so soft it was barely a whisper, she said, “Sir Jorgenbjorgen.”

Hans looked up at her, surprised by the change in her tone. Without thinking, he clutched the tiny penguin against his chest. There was something about the way she said it—a mix of tenderness and pain—that left him speechless.

“He was great listener” she continued, her eyes fixed on the small penguin. Her fingers moved slowly, almost trembling, as she reached out to take it from Hans.

Hans watched her in silence, feeling a pang of sadness pierce his chest.

Elsa lowered her gaze to the penguin, as if recalling something long buried. Hans wanted to say something, to offer a word that might ease her sorrow, but before he could find the right words, she gently placed the penguin on the edge of the trunk and began rummaging through its contents.

Suddenly, she pulled out a small chest adorned with Christmas motifs. Her eyes lit up with a spark of hope that transformed her face.

“This could fix things with Anna!” she exclaimed.

Hans couldn’t help but smile at how radiant she looked. It was as if a ray of sunlight had pierced the gloom of the attic.

“What is it?” he asked, but Elsa didn’t respond.

Instead, she turned to him and, without thinking, leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. The gesture was brief, impulsive, but brimming with gratitude.

“Thank you, Hans,” she whispered, her sincerity leaving him breathless.

Before he could react, Elsa had already turned on her heel and was heading for the door. The light of her smile still lingered, and the echo of her footsteps resonated in the silence of the attic.

Hans remained where he was, holding a forgotten glove in one hand and staring at the door through which she had just exited. He felt as though the air around him was still filled with her presence, with the warmth of her words and the touch of her hands on his face. But he also felt the weight of what remained unsaid, of everything she still wasn’t ready to admit.

He sighed, letting the glove fall back into the trunk. At that moment, Sir Jorgenbjorgen seemed to gaze at him from his spot among the gloves, as if sharing in the knowledge of something deeper and more complicated.

“I guess not even a Christmas miracle can fix this,” he muttered, shaking his head with a bitter smile.

[munsonhoneybaby]

Beginning Traditions | Eddie Munson X F!Reader

Summary: It’s your first Christmas in your new home with Eddie and the two of you are ready to explore the next steps you’ll take together as you form your own Christmas traditions.

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: 18+ mdni, just some heavy making out honestly nothing bad in this one

A/N: takes place in december of ‘94. bit more of a blurb/drabble. this was originally gonna be some super sweet extensive thing with a lil breeding kink and some sex by the fireplace but uh- the month really got away from me. i’ll try and make it up to y’all with whatever i post next <3

The bluesy cadence of Elvis’s voice floated quietly through the main rooms of your home, the old holiday records your family had passed down having been dusted off in the name of the season. It was certainly a change of pace from the rock and metal cassettes you typically had playing. The golden twinkle of the Christmas lights worked hand in hand with the flickering fireplace to fill the room with a warm glow.

Four inches of snow blanketed the ground outside and, according to the weather report, the elements wouldn’t be letting up anytime soon. Inside, however, Eddie had turned up the heat and started the fire while you had made two mugs of hot chocolate ‘with all the fixins’. The Christmas tree was fully decorated, including multiple ornaments the two of you had made together. The only thing missing was the star on top, which was what led you to balance precariously at the top of your step stool, stretching to reach the top of the eight-foot tree.

Warm palms met your exposed skin as your boyfriend of eight years grasped your hips to steady you. “You gotta be more careful, pretty girl. Gonna gimme a heart attack.”

“Eds, babe, the ladder’s like two feet tall. If anything, I’m worried about takin’ the tree down with me.” You fidgeted with the fake branches, “Is the star sitting straight?”

“Looks perfect, honey.” He held a hand out to help you step down, tugging you a few steps back to take a look.

You hummed in agreement as he kissed your temple, your back pressing into his chest. “It’s pretty. You did a good job on the lights.”

He smiled at you before glancing out the window where the wind howled and the tree branches shook. “Thank God I put up the lights outside yesterday. Who knows when this storm’s gonna let up.”

Hip bumping his, you gave him a suppressed smirk. “Oh, I’m sure we’ll find ways to keep busy. I just hope we don’t lose power, even with the heat going I’m still freezing.”

“If we can find ways to keep busy, we can definitely find a way to keep warm. Don’t you worry, honey baby.”

A ding from the oven drew you to the kitchen as Eddie put away the step stool. Grabbing the bag he’d stowed away in the guest room, he met you in the kitchen where you were swapping out the freshly baked sugar cookies for unbaked cookie dough. “Hey, I’ve got somethin’ for us to do tonight.”

“When did you go to Family Video?” You frowned in confusion at the bag in his hands.

Ignoring your question, he asked, “Remember that one kids’ Christmas movie you liked that came out last year? The Tim Burton one?”

“The Nightmare Before Christmas?” The smile spreading on your face had him pulling the brand-new VHS from the bag. With a little squeal, you took it from him to inspect it. He’d even gotten one with a plastic hardcover instead of a paper one. Your arms wound around his neck with a tight squeeze, “Thank you, Eddie!”

Squeezing your waist right back, he chuckled. “‘Course, pretty girl. Why don’t you go turn the movie on and I’ll make us some popcorn, hm?”

Less than a year until he’d turn thirty, and even after so many years with you he still stood in the doorway to watch you bend over and put the VHS in– only then did your boyfriend attend to his task of making popcorn. The hot bag burned his fingers as he dumped the microwaved popcorn into a big bowl. He joined you on the couch after pressing play for you, the festive pattern of your matching pajama pants blending together as your legs curled against his.

Eddie eyed your content expression as you watched the movie with a small smile. It had been a philosophy of yours to try and maintain the spirit of the holiday season for as long as Eddie had known you. Even when he’d still lived with Wayne, you’d insist on coming over to help decorate the trailer. He still remembers asking you about it on your first Christmas together as a couple. My family doesn’t really get along, you’d explained with an expression of shame that made his chest hurt. Not a lot of people show up to celebrate, and there’s always a fight when they do. I guess I just wanna try and enjoy what I have around times like this, y’know? Bring people together. He looked over at the two stockings hanging from the mantle of the fireplace and imagined more hanging beside them. “So, are you gonna leave cookies and milk out for Santa this year?”

Meeting his eyes out of the corner of yours, you smiled and popped a piece of popcorn in your mouth. “I s’pose I could if Santa actually wants to sneak in the living room at midnight to put the presents under the tree.”

“Well, I think he’s going to. He’s gonna need the practice if he’s gonna have a little one or two to deliver presents to in the Christmases to come.” He tried to keep a lightheartedly teasing expression on his face, but part of him tried to gauge how you would react to that.

“Little ones, huh?”

“Doesn’t have to be by next Christmas,” He reassured with a little smile. “All this’s just makin’ me think about it.”

“Yeah?” Your hand soothed over his clothed chest before slipping beneath his shirt to do the same to his skin. “Eddie Munson’s really thinkin’ about kids?”

His face flushed, head tilting down as his eyes darted around. “I don’t know, it’s just…we’re in such a good place– and I wanna stay like this for a while longer, I do, ‘cause this is perfect, y’know? I just think we’re getting there, I guess. Like maybe it’s time to start talking about parenting stuff a little more and preparing together?”

Cupping his cheek, you met his gaze with a small smile. You couldn’t help but kiss him, fingers winding into the loose messy bun that was falling out at the base of his neck. “We’ll talk about it, Eds. I promise.” You could feel his smile against your lips as they molded to his again, his arms surrounding you to draw you into his lap. “Eddie, the movie,” You pouted half-heartedly into the kiss.

“We’ve got it on VHS now, babe. We can watch it anytime,” He argued as his mouth found its way to your neck. Head rolling back to give him more room, you pulled your borrowed scrunchie from his hair. His hands wandered from your hips over your waist and up your back, mapping out each curve as though he didn’t already have them all memorized.

Pulling back slightly, your thumb stroked over his jaw. “You’re gonna be such a good dad.”

“You really think so?” He asked, a little nervousness seeping into his tone.

“I know so, baby. You’re gonna be amazing.”

He pulled you down into another ravenous kiss, mumbling against your lips. “I love you.”

On Christmas that year, he got down on one knee and gave you a ring.

The next year, you bit your nail as you watched Eddie unwrap his final Christmas gift from you– the first of several positive pregnancy tests.

<3

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