#again Merry Christmas to anyone that celebrates it and happy holidays

[ravidrws]

Merry belated Christmas and happy holidays everyone!

[toournextadventure]

a novel life pt.2

Summary: You're trying to make nice with Sam's little sister, for everyone's sake. Maybe it leads to an interrogation. Maybe it leads to more. And maybe you end up sucked into the unusual events that follow Legacies

Word Count: 4.3k Warnings: swearing, distrust, mentions of past trauma, mentions of blood, mentions of Scream typical violence Pairing: Samantha Carpenter x GN!Reader A/N: Merry Christmas, Happy Hannukah, Happy Yule, and whatever holidays y'all all celebrate 🫶 (pt.1) (pt.2) (pt.3) (pt.4) (pt.5)

“Are you sure this is okay?” You asked as you nearly tripped over your feet.

Sam gave you a look that was both sweet and condescending. “Yes, because I said so.”

“That doesn’t seem like solid reasoning,” you mumbled, but nonetheless continued following her up the steps to her apartment.

It was nearing Halloween, with the cooling air finally allowing for the use of jackets. Which you had few of, since Sam had decided to keep them for herself. Not that there was anyone to blame but yourself; it was what you deserved for offering her jackets every time she forgot one. She had simply decided it was rather nice to have an unlimited selection of jackets, both too-large and just right.

In all her wisdom, Sam had suggested the two of you, and Tara and her partner have a movie night. Tara got to choose the movie, and no one could object. All in all it should have been a win for the younger Carpenter; she could make you suffer if she truly wanted, and you couldn’t say a word about it. Which was going to cause the night to be very, very long.

Oh, the things you would do for her.

“Is she going to pick something scary?” You asked before you both approached the door. “Because I don’t like scary.”

“I have no doubt it will be scary,” Sam said with a barely-concealed smile. “I’ll hold your hand to keep you safe.”

“You’re my hero,” you said as you leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to her lips. She tasted strongly of the cigarette she had smoked on the way from your apartment to hers.

You tried to pull away, but she quickly followed, keeping her lips pressed against yours. Every sense was enveloped by her. Her smell, her taste, the feel of her body pressed against yours so tightly it was as if you would float away without her. There was nothing you could have ever wanted more than your Sam.

“We shouldn’t give Tara something to be upset about,” you mumbled against Sam’s lips when she finally pulled back just the slightest distance.

“Tara’s always upset,” she answered before sighing, “but you’re right.”

“Baby steps,” you said with a smile.

“For the big baby.”

“Samantha.”

“I’m kidding,��� she tried to argue as she grabbed your hand and started finally moving into the apartment.

You both knew she wasn’t kidding.

“My dude!”

You had barely walked through the door when Tara’s partner called out to you, a genuine, toothy grin visible on their face. They had asked you to call them J, which you had happily agreed to. Sam teased that it was short for Joker - you assumed because of the scars - but the look on Tara’s face told you not to ever bring it up. Ever.

It was a rule you could oblige by.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again,” you said as you hung your coat on the back of one of the chairs at the dining table. It had only taken you dropping your coat once before you realised the Carpenters saw no need for a coat rack.

How utterly uncivilised.

“They think it’s a pleasure to see me,” J said to Tara, who rolled her eyes almost instantly. 

You would never say it aloud, but you noticed the small smile she sent their way. So, she wasn’t as heartless as she wanted you to believe. Exactly like her older sister. It would be simple enough to chalk it down to their past experiences with the world; it had taught them nothing but hardness. But maybe they both just needed a safe space to let those walls come down.

“What did you choose?” Sam asked. She very quickly made her way to the couch opposite Tara and J.

“Depends,” they said.

“On?” Sam asked.

J turned to look at you and held something up to their mouth. “What’s your favourite scary movie?” The voice came out almost robotic, sounding similar to… something you possibly recognised? Vaguely?

“That’s not funny,” Sam said quickly.

“Lighten up, Sam,” Tara said even though she pushed J’s hand - and the voice changer - into their lap. “We’re watching Hellraiser.”

“Thought you didn’t like that one,” Sam said. She reached over and grabbed your hand the moment you sat down beside her on the couch.

Tara’s eyes darted to where your hands were joined and lingered. “I don’t.” She looked back up at you with a hard gaze. “I picked it out just for you.”

“Oh,” you said, perking up instantly. “Thank you.”

You turned to look at Sam with a stupid smile on your face, missing the look J sent Tara. Well, this was turning into a lovely evening! Tara had picked out a movie just for you! Surely that was progress to the finest degree, was it not? If all it took was watching a movie with them every month, you were more than happy to do so. This was turning out to be a rather lovely evening.

At least you thought so until the movie started and you realised just exactly why Tara had picked the movie out just for you.

It was… well, it was a movie. Filled with hooks and needles and… blood. Oh gosh, so much blood. There was a singular blessing amongst it all; you hadn’t eaten before coming over. Thankfully the popcorn sat untouched between you and Sam as your stomach twisted and turned and tried its best to embarrass you.

Sam squeezed your hand as you did your best to keep your cool. Not that it was such an easy thing with all the… you couldn’t even think the word without feeling queasy. Surely there was no way they all enjoyed this kind of thing, right? It was grotesque! The creatures on the screen, the inhumanity of it all, how was it an enjoyable movie?

The room started to shrink around you. Oh, that wasn’t good, you didn’t want to feel claustrophobic, you were trying to be tough. You couldn’t let anyone know that you had an, um, aversion to blood. What would they say? They were all horror fans, how could you ever possibly mention that you just… didn’t enjoy it? Quite frankly, it made you sick to your stomach, like all those science experiments you had to do back in grade school.

The credits couldn’t have rolled a moment too soon. If anyone were to ask you what you thought, you wouldn’t have been able to answer. The only thing you were aware of was your heart beating loudly in your ear and the saliva that continued to fill your mouth. Maybe it would actually be better if you didn’t try to answer anyone for a few more moments.

“So, Professor,” Tara asked all too soon. “What did you think?”

“I-”

-You cut yourself short. There was a part, a rather significant part of your mind that said you should lie. Tell Tara it was a wonderful movie, and you would love to see more if it existed. But lying had never gotten you anywhere in the past, had it? It certainly wasn’t going to assist you in winning over Tara, not when she was already sceptical of you. How was a lie going to assist you?

It wasn’t. 

“It’s not my cup of tea,” you finally said before swallowing the remaining saliva in your mouth. “I don’t really enjoy scary movies.” You nodded to yourself. “Or blood.”

“Oh my god,” Tara huffed, “why can’t you just lose your shit about something?”

“Tara,” Sam warned.

“No, this is ridiculous,” she continued as she stood up from the couch, ignoring J reaching for her hand. “Why can’t you lose your shit?” She pointed at you. “Nobody is this level-headed about everything.”

“That’s enough,” Sam said as she followed suit, standing up from the couch. Similarly, you reached out for her hand but she moved just far enough away.

“Get out,” Tara said before promptly looking Sam dead in the eyes.

“Excuse me?” Sam asked.

“Get out,” she repeated.

“Hey, T-”

“-You too,” Tara interrupted J, who froze with a comically shocked expression on their face. “Both of you get out so I can talk to them-” she pointed at you “-alone.”

“Absolutely not-”

“-Sounds reasonable,” you interrupted Sam. She looked at you like you had grown a second head. “I would love to talk.”

“Come on, Baby Ghost,” J said as they stood up. You were starting to feel left out by being the only one still sitting. “I’ll buy you a new pack of cigs.”

Sam looked like she wanted to argue, but both you and Tara gave her a look. Differing looks, of course, but still. While Tara seemed to get her a death stare that was almost permanently etched onto her face, you tried to go the more convincing route. If Tara wanted to talk, who were you to tell her no? Talking was key, that’s what your family had always done and it had never ended poorly.

“Fine,” Sam finally said. She seemed resigned. “But you have 15 minutes and that’s it.”

“Deal,” Tara said. “Now get out.”

You stayed as still as a statue when Sam leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips. A little more forceful than usual, but you wouldn’t complain. Any kiss from her was perfect. A sigh came from behind her, and you both knew who it was from, but she took her time before pulling away and standing back up.

“Don’t let her bully you,” she said.

“Sam,” Tara said forcefully. “Get out.”

“Fine,” Sam said, throwing her hands up. “But I mean it,” she said as she and J walked to the door together. “15 minutes.”

You and Tara both watched your partners leave the apartment, practically abandoning you to the force of nature that was the youngest Carpenter sister. It shamed you to admit you were a little afraid of her. You knew there was something going on deep down that she either wouldn’t or couldn’t accept, and you wouldn’t dare fault her for it. But she let her internal frustrations out in a very external way.

“What’s wrong with you?” Tara asked the moment the door shut behind the two. You stayed silent. “You don’t yell, you don’t scream, you don’t even freak out when I put on a movie I knew you would hate.”

You waited a moment to make sure she was finished. “I was raised by two very… pacifistic parents,” you said, gesturing for her to sit on the couch opposite you. “We talked through our issues, we didn’t yell about them.”

Tara opened her mouth as if she was about to argue, or complain, or something. Slowly, her mouth closed and she pursed her lips. She kept looking at you, but slowly took a seat opposite you. There was something going on behind her eyes, you could see it, but you knew better than to question her just yet. Just like your mom had taught you; let them lead the conversation.

“I don’t trust you,” she said slowly. Her eyes stayed locked with yours. “You’re too understanding and too kind.” You stayed silent. “Sam only ever falls for freaks.”

“Didn’t she date an FBI agent?” You asked. You could vaguely remember what Sam had said about her, but she had seemed nice enough.

“Kirby is cool, I’ve always liked her,” Tara said with a dismissive shake of her head. “But she was attacked by Ghostface twice,” she said, “so she’s a freak by proxy.” She looked back at you. “So what’s your deal?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know,” you said, “ask your questions and maybe you can find out.”

It had initially been your idea, but before Tara could even open her mouth you started to second guess yourself. Perhaps allowing her to ask whatever questions she wanted without any repercussions was… not the smartest idea on your part. You had nothing to hide, but what if she really started to ask unusual questions? What if your answers weren’t what she wanted to hear?

But when you thought of Sam, and being with her, you felt that, without question, it was worth the gamble.

“Have you ever used a knife?” Tara asked quickly. It seemed she wasn’t going to wait.

“Not outside of cooking,” you answered just as quickly.

“How about a gun?” So, it would be a rapid fire interrogation. Game on.

“Never.”

“Ever hurt anybody before?” A tilt of her head.

“Not on purpose.”

“What about animals?”

“No.”

“Not even in science class?”

“I-” you attempted to clear your throat to buy a bit of time “-I fell ill that day.”

Tara paused and narrowed her eyes. “Because of blood.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes,” you said anyway. “It makes me sick to my stomach.”

“You’re pretty pathetic,” Tara said as she leaned back on the couch. For the first time in… well, ever, you thought you almost saw her smile at you. “That’s exactly Sam’s type.”

“I thought you said it was freaks,” you pointed out.

“Pathetic freaks,” she corrected quickly. That quirk near the corner of her mouth rapidly disappeared. “Why did you choose Sam?”

You paused. It was uncertain what exactly Sam had told Tara about you both meeting. Surely she wouldn’t have overdramatised it, but had she told her the truth? The truth was… well, it was pathetic as well, but you weren’t entirely convinced Tara would approve. Not that it was entirely her place, but the two were the only family each other had. They both had a right to be cautious of anyone new coming into their lives.

But perhaps you could answer the question a little differently.

“She’s kind,” you said with a subconscious nod of your head. “And bold, and intelligent - god she’s intelligent - and brave.” You averted Tara’s eyes. “And she’s really pretty too.”

Tara nodded once. “What are your intentions with her?”

Another question that you believed was potentially a trick. You couldn’t very well say you loved Sam just yet; you hadn’t even told Sam that little piece of information. But there were other intentions with her even if you didn’t necessarily use the word “love.” There were other things that were just as important.

“I don’t want to sound overly self-important,” you started off, looking back up to meet Tara’s eyes. “But I would very much like to be the one by Sam’s side as she continues on this path she’s created for herself.”

Tara looked at you; really looked at you. She was so very difficult for you to read. Unlike Sam, Tara did a better job at hiding her emotions. While Sam would give it away with her facial expressions, Tara did not. No, her feelings came out differently, whether in the slight twitch of her fingers or the impatient tapping of her foot on the rug. You hadn’t been around her long enough to know what exactly those feelings were, you simply acknowledged they were feelings.

“I’ll give you a chance,” Tara finally said, her voice far softer than you had ever heard. At least when it was directed at you. “But if you do anything to hurt her, or upset her, or lie to her, I won’t hesitate to kill you.” You gulped. “I’m not afraid to kill again.”

“I forgot you’ve both killed someone before,” you mumbled to yourself before speaking up louder. “Those are acceptable terms.”

“Good,” she said with a single nod of her head. “But don’t think this means I’ll go easy on you.”

You could both hear the other two finally approaching the door, bickering in a way that mimicked biological siblings.

“I would expect nothing less,” you told Tara as the door opened and the moment ended.

—---

The rest of the semester went by without incident. Tara had stayed true to her word and gave you a fair chance to prove that you could be trusted with her sister’s heart, and it wasn’t something you had taken lightly. You knew how important the both of them were to each other, and you had done your best to prove that not only did you care for Sam, but you cared for Tara too.

She had finally eased up during classes, allowing you to properly teach without an ounce of disdain for you personally. In fact, she had even dared to come to office hours on more than one occasion to discuss certain pieces you had offered as optional readings. The Carpenters were immensely intelligent, no matter what the subject matter was.

You and Sam had fallen into a rather comfortable routine, always going for a date night on Thursdays to whatever new place your colleagues had recommended, and movies with Tara and J on Saturdays. You would spend the night at her place Thursday through Monday morning, and she would stay at yours Monday through Thursday morning. It was comfortable, and you were more than content.

But with school finally over for the semester, you could focus on the real gem; Christmas.

Both Carpenters - and J, for that matter - had been nonchalant with their decorations. A minimal Charlie Brown tree that had, at most, four ornaments on it. It was awfully quaint, and if they hadn’t been so blase about it you would have been content to leave it standing. Nevertheless, they had made it clear they didn’t care if there were any decorations, and you had taken that as a cry for help.

Your own apartment had, of course, been decorated since the day after Thanksgiving. It was a wonderful gift from your mother, learning how to decorate for the holidays, and you weren’t keen on squandering the skills and letting them fall off the wagon, so to speak. Sam had made a few comments, though you hadn’t taken her for a non-believer.

“It’s okay, really,” Sam tried to say when you and J finished bringing in what had to have been the seventh box of decorations from your apartment.

“Oh no, I insist,” you said with a smile. “Besides, my mother would be downright dismayed if she knew the decorations were sitting in my apartment unused.”

“Great,” Tara mumbled as she walked by without even offering to help, “we get to live at the North Pole.”

“Isn’t it exciting?” You said with a smile. “These are more neutral, so you shouldn’t feel too out of place, but they still embody the holiday spirit.”

“Well I think it’ll be fun,” J said with their own smile. “Do I get to hang the ornaments?”

“Why-”

“-the ornaments won’t be the only thing hanging this Christmas,” Tara said, tossing a mini marshmallow into the air and catching it in her mouth. “Especially with those blinding lights.”

You looked down at the ones in your hand and frowned. “I thought they were rather tame.”

“And they’re lovely,” Sam tried to cover, even though you could see the fake smile she had on her face. “You’re doing great,” she continued as she left a simple kiss on your cheek.

The decorating ended up being a one person job, you quickly realised when you discovered J could not, for the life of them, listen to instructions. More than once, the lights had been blown and you had to find the faulty one to fix it. Normally you would chalk it down to bad luck, but when it was only the ones that they were installing? You became a little suspicious.

At least they were all eager to help with the snacks and desserts, and that was something you could live with. Surprisingly, Tara was the one who had the most ideas. You knew you weren’t the best cook; you could follow instructions but that didn’t necessarily mean they would turn out nice. But with Tara at the helm? They were almost as good as your mother’s! Though obviously you would never dare to tell her that.

You also rather quickly discovered that they were not gift giving people. Understandable, you supposed, they had much more important things to worry about in life. It was still unacceptable. The moment you had found out, you had called your parents and told them the tragic news.

Gifts for all three of them - plus a gift each for Mindy, Chad, and Anika - had been delivered to your house within the week. Express shipping to be certain they would arrive before Christmas.

Which led to yet another tragedy; they had no stockings.

“It’s really not worth buying,” Sam attempted to persuade you over the phone on one of the rare nights you two weren’t spending together. “Just stay home tonight.”

“It’s no trouble, Sam,” you argued. “I’m heading out for a bit anyway.”

You didn’t admit you were already at the store, trying to decide which one would fit each person best.

“Just stay safe,” she said. You could hear car horns in the background but thought nothing of it. “I mean it.”

“I’ll be safe,” you insisted, “I always am.”

“Call me when you’re back home,” she said.

“Yes ma’am,” you said with a smile that she couldn’t see.

She hung up first, and you continued your search without any second thoughts. In the end, you had decided on a Santa stocking for J, a reindeer for Tara, and a snowman for Sam. They would look lovely hanging underneath the mounted television in their living room. But with the stockings, you needed things to fill them with.

Santa’s work was never finished.

It was dark by the time you finished buying everything you believed you needed. Stockings, fillers, and some snacks to make for a lovely evening. That should surely be enough to give the three of them a very merry Christmas, would it not? Your mother had already sent their Santa presents, and their other presents were underneath the tree, so as far as you were aware of at the moment, everything was taken care of.

You were still going over your mental checklist when you heard a commotion down one of the alleys on the way home. Every cell in your body told you not to bother looking; people got desperate around the holidays and it would do you no good to go poking your head where it didn’t belong. But if someone was getting hurt, then you needed to attempt to help.

Or at least make enough of a scene that someone else would come help.

“Excuse me?” You called out foolishly as you started down the dark alleyway. “Is everyone alright out there?”

You pulled your coat tighter around you as you continued walking. It hadn’t been raining or snowing recently, and yet something started to soak through your shoes and socks. The shocking cold that normally came from liquids in December wasn’t present; it was warm.

There was another noise. It almost sounded like something solid, but it was overshadowed by something metallic. You did your best to see something in the dark, even as your body continued to tell you to move along. But something didn’t feel right; you were feeling queasy again.

Something hissed in front of you, but it wasn’t a snake. No, you knew what those sounded like and this wasn’t even close. This sounded much more human, though that sound would only ever really happen in dire circumstances like if-

-a large white mask faced you. It was the only thing you could see in the dark, thanks to the lights behind you causing just enough radiance to make the mask almost seem luminescent. You weren’t a movie buff, especially not scary movies, but you weren’t stupid. Everyone knew what that mask was.

Ghostface.

All those cells that had been telling you to run? They were silent. Frozen in fear, just like your mind. The killer wasn’t moving toward you, simply facing you, almost as if it was the very reason you were stationary. Which, it was, but not in the typical way that most would be privy to. You felt like a deer in headlights, and if you moved then you died.

You supposed that was how all the movies went.

“Aren’t you going to run?” Ghostface asked, in that same voicebox that J had had during the movie night.

You swallowed the saliva filling your mouth. “No,” you said in a trembling voice.

“Why not?” He continued. “I like when they run.”

“I’m not very fast,” you said. “You’ll catch me before I get to the street.”

He still didn’t move, and your eyes finally adjusted enough to see the silhouette of a body slumped at his feet. Your throat constricted at the sight; you were going to be sick. The very image started to worm its way into your brain; there was a very simple explanation for what was still soaking through your socks. It wasn’t snow.

“You should get home, Professor,” Ghostface said.

You nodded, even though you weren’t sure if he could see you. “Yes I should.”

“Stay on the sidewalk next time,” he said.

“I- I believe that’s sound advice,” you said with more frantic nods of your head. Your palms were starting to get clammy.

Ghostface lifted up a hand - holding a knife - and waved. “Good night, Professor.”

“Good night,” you said with your own shaky wave.

You walked backwards out of the alley, keeping an eye on the figure until it was completely out of sight. Your feet were frozen on the ground once you were under a street light. There were no more sounds coming from the alley, not even the sound of someone leaving. Wherever Ghostface had gone, he hadn’t followed you.

In an incredibly brave moment, you leaned over and vomited directly into a storm grate before going back home. You called Sam the moment you got back into your apartment.

You couldn’t find the courage to inform her of the night’s mystery encounter.

[thriftedtchotchkes]

you're a mean one, mr. miller

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: you and ellie decide the solution to joel's grinch-like approach to the holidays lies in finding him the perfect gift

warnings: jackson era, grumpy old man!joel, significant other!reader, fluff, mild angst, gift giving, christmas at the miller's, so many polaroids

word count: 3.8k

12 days of pedro masterlist - ty to @hellishjoel for organizing this project <3

The Miller household always gets a little tense around the holidays. When the days shorten and snow begins to fall, Joel throws himself into patrols and plans for winter-proofing Jackson, and it's all he'll talk about for months. It's obvious he does it on purpose. 

Christmas is basically an unspoken no-no under his roof, and there might as well be a swear jar for the word if his reaction is any indication. He refuses to acknowledge it and only tolerates the day itself because he knows it makes you and Ellie happy. 

You just wish it made him happy, too. You know it used to. Every year, Tommy regales stories about their Christmases in Austin as kids, and later with Sarah. Joel loved Christmas. 

They used to visit the tree farm, pick the tallest, fullest tree they could fit in their living room, and decorate it the very same day. Their attic and even parts of their garage were home to lights and tinsel in every color you could think of, and ornaments Sarah brought home from art classes and the yearly holiday fair at school.

All of that changed after the outbreak. It wasn't just her passing that did it. It wasn't even the threat of death or worse lurking around every corner. It was time. 

Joel just got used to life without it. After 22 years of missed holidays, he decided he didn't actually miss them at all. He couldn't afford to spare precious resources or energy on anything that wasn't necessary for survival. But that isn't the point of Christmas, is it? 

You celebrate your loved ones and their joy. You celebrate life. Here in Jackson, he finally has all of that, but if Joel is anything, he's a stubborn man set in his ways. You can tell he's still resistant to the idea because he genuinely believes there are better uses for his time.

You can also tell he's afraid to let his guard down. You just haven't figured out a way to show him he doesn't have to be. No one's safety is guaranteed in the world you live in, but you're protected now. And that responsibility isn't solely on him anymore.

If you could give him anything for Christmas this year, it would be peace. One day, even just a few hours of tensionless shoulders and a wrinkle-free brow would be a gift for all of you. He deserves to enjoy something merry and cheerful again, just for the sake of it.  

So, you ask the person who knows him best in the world for help.

"What do we think about getting Joel a Christmas gift this year?"

Ellie glances up from her guitar with the most incredulous look you've ever seen on her face. 

"Depends. Do you have a death wish?" she jokes, draping her arm over her instrument so she's sitting more comfortably. She's settling in—you both know this is about to be a painful conversation.

"No, but—," you sigh, leaning against the door behind you. It's still chilled, even through your coat, from when you barged into the shed and interrupted her practice. "I don't know. He wouldn't make that big of a deal, would he? It doesn't have to be anything flashy, just something small. Something nice."

"So, you wanna get Joel something nice for a holiday he hates? That makes total sense," she says, rolling her eyes.

You don't appreciate the sarcasm, but you expected it. She knows as well as you do that Joel won't be thrilled by the gesture, if he even accepts it.

"El, come on. I could really use your help here," you try to appeal to the part of her that usually can't say no to you, and thankfully she's starting to cave. "If there's anyone who can come up with a present Joel will actually like, it's you."

She sighs. Her fingers drum an arrhythmic beat on the wood grain while she thinks, a habit she must've picked up from Joel.

"Look, Joel's not really a 'thing' kinda guy," she replies, and she's probably right. He's never been the kind of guy who has physical attachments. "When's the last time he actually gave a shit when something broke or got lost? Even his watch is broken."

"Yeah, but that's different. You know it's different," you counter softly. But you can see the point she's trying to make. "Okay, so we don't get him a 'thing'."

She nods, waiting for you to offer another idea, but you're even more stumped than you were when you got here. 

"Maybe you can draw him something?" you grimace, grasping at straws now.

"His house is full of shit I've drawn," she deadpans. "Plus, I thought this was an us gift. That sounds like a 'me doing all the work' gift."

You let out a frustrated groan, and your head thunks dully against the door. You knew this wasn't going to be an easy task, but you thought it would at least be possible. Joel's a complicated man—it's one of the things you love most about him—but his wants and needs are surprisingly simple. 

He loves a home-cooked meal, especially meat and potatoes. He enjoys cold beers with Tommy on the porch during the summer and walking Ellie through complicated picking patterns when she's stuck on a song. He likes relaxing on the couch and watching old Westerns or cheesy action movies, and craves your body, soft and pliant, under his after a frustrating day on patrol.

But you want this to mean more than any of that. A special something that goes beyond the norm to loosen some of the springs that keep him wound up tight and constantly in motion. 

You glance around Ellie's space as your hope begins to dwindle, and the corkboard above her bed catches your eye. It's always been there, covered in doodled-on scrap paper and photos of her family and friends, and you're positive you've seen it hundreds of times since you've been in Jackson. But this time, it gives you an idea. The idea.

"That Polaroid camera you found in Eugene's basement—the one in the library. Does it work?"

Ellie's brows furrow at your sudden question. She clearly didn't expect it, but you're hoping she'll be on board once she finally catches on.

"Uhh, yeah, Cat and I were messing around with it the other day. Worked pretty well for us," she replies hesitantly, pointing at the entertainment console next to you. "It's next to the PlayStation."

Humming in response, you squat in front of the shelf to inspect it. It's in great condition, even better than you expected. Even the flash button lights up and whirs just like you remember. 

Before she can protest, you whip around and snap an extremely candid, brightly lit photo of her. If the look on her face is the same one you just caught on film, then you're already off to a great start.

"Dude, what the fuck? What was that for?" she groans in annoyance, blinking the bright spots out of her vision.  

"A scrapbook," you grin. "For Joel."

She's still glaring at you as she rubs her eyes, but she bites back whatever retort she was about to say. You watch her expectantly as she chews on the idea, relief blooming in your chest when she finally nods.

"I guess that could work," she says slowly, still thinking over the logistics in her head. But then she frowns. "When exactly did you plan on taking all those photos? Not to be a downer, but Christmas is in like, a week."

Damn, she's right again. It'll be hell in a handbasket to fill an entire scrapbook in that amount of time, and even if you manage it, it'll be a half-assed attempt at best.

No, if you're going to do this, then you're going to do it right. No rushed or slapstick presents for the man who already hates Christmas—Joel deserves better than that.

"What if we let Joel do his bah-humbug thing one last time? That's probably his idea of a perfect gift, anyway. Then next year, it'll be this," you hand her the fully-developed Polaroid.

It shows Ellie hugging the guitar Joel made for her, but there's no sign of the shocked annoyance that followed the camera flash. Instead, she's smiling. She has that rare, unguarded expression on her face, the one reserved only for people she trusts. It's a tender moment of peace, forever frozen in time.

She looks up at you, and you can see it in her eyes. She gets it, now.

"You do realize it's still a 'thing' present though, right?" she interjects playfully, and you have to resist the urge to grab the wood polishing cloth on the table next to you and swat her with it.

"Yeah, but it's a sappy thing. Admit it, Joel's a huge sap and you know it. You said it yourself, his house is basically a glorified fridge with your art magnetized to the walls."

She rolls her eyes again, but you can see the smile tugging at her lips. She knows it's true.

"So, you'll help me?" you ask, daring to hope that she'll agree.

"As long as you don't pull this shit again, I'll do whatever you want," she lifts the Polaroid, shooting you a dirty, but affectionate look before handing it back to you.

A grin breaks out across your face, and you bolt across the room to hug her awkwardly around the instrument still sitting in her lap. She places it down so she can wrap her arms around you properly. 

Physical affection has never really been Ellie's thing but if you catch her at the right moment on the right day, you might get lucky. Today, you do.

"So, when do we get started?" she asks, pulling away.

"Right now," you reply, unable to contain your excitement. For the first time in over two decades, Joel Miller might actually have a merry Christmas, and that's something to celebrate. 

"Now?" she gapes at you, looking over her shoulder longingly at her guitar as you drag her out of the shed. She barely has enough time to grab a coat before you're out in the cold with nothing but each other, a camera, and a plan.

"Now." 

ONE YEAR LATER

Jackson in the spring is one of the most beautiful things you've ever seen, even among your memories of the world pre-outbreak. Snow remains on the mountain peaks in the distance, but the foliage below blooms with the promise of warmer weather. Somehow, you managed to capture it all—fresh flowers in the shop windows, friends and neighbors shedding their coats and congregating in the streets, and the post-winter excitement that spreads more and more with each sunny day. 

You hid the stack of photographs in an empty jumbo box of tampons in the hall closet, positive they’d be safe from Joel’s prying eyes while you and Ellie continued your mission.

In the summer, two new foals were born, and Ellie and Maria spent almost every day at the stables to help out where they could. They even named them—Shimmer was Maria’s choice, and Ellie named the other Callus just to piss off Joel. Not only did it work, but it resulted in some of the cutest pictures of the season. 

Joel and Tommy built a porch swing for Maria and their rambunctious toddler and spent countless balmy nights drinking Tommy's extra-strength whiskey and shooting the shit. They even broke out their guitars every so often and managed to bully Ellie into playing with them once or twice. You caught that on camera, too. 

Slowly but surely, the memory box filled up, and the photos were transferred to a scrapbook you and Ellie made yourselves—with a little local help. One of the school teachers happened to be a former librarian with a bookbinding hobby, and graciously gave you a treasure trove of old, tattered books that were perfect for your project. 

By autumn, everything was falling into place. Ellie adorned those pages with painted leaves in shades of red, orange, and yellow to complement the photos you took at the town’s annual Harvest Festival and Thanksgiving potluck. You hopped around from booth to booth, table to table, and thanked your lucky stars that Eugene was a hoarder and held onto every pack of film he found over the years.

Now, it's the night before Christmas and you have a single shot left. One last photo intended for the final page, but you can’t think of anything you haven’t already documented. Looking around Tommy’s living room, there are plenty of moments you’d love to capture, and yet none of them feel like the moment. 

How the Grinch Stole Christmas plays in the background while you sit on their couch, curled into Joel’s side with Ellie’s head on your lap, but you’re barely paying attention, still lost in your thoughts. Joel isn’t paying attention, either—he was unsurprisingly averse to the movie to begin with—so when you don’t laugh along with everyone else at the Grinch’s antics, he immediately knows something’s up. He kisses your temple, careful not to jostle Ellie.

“What’s got you so in your head you’re not even laughin’ at Jim Carrey? I thought you loved this movie,” he murmurs against the shell of your ear. His familiar Southern twang somehow warms you up more than the fireplace crackling next to the television. 

“I do. I think I’m just getting a little sleepy, is all,” you reply softly, sagging into him. “Winter dance prep sucked this week. It’s like everyone conveniently forgot they volunteered to help.”

He nods, mumbling an apology into your hair.

“Guess that makes sense. All that runnin’ around you’ve been doing with that camera of yours probably ain’t helpin’ either,” he says offhandedly, and your brows furrow in response.

It’s not the first time he’s mentioned your sudden interest in photography, but with his gift sitting less than 10 feet away under Tommy and Maria’s Christmas tree, it seems more than a little suspicious. You catch Ellie glancing up at you in your peripheral, and you meet her gaze as discreetly as you can.

“Yeah, maybe,” you laugh it off, hoping it doesn’t sound as tense to Joel’s ears as it does to yours.

“What are you doin’ with all of those photos anyway? I swear, you take ‘em and then they disappear into thin air,” he presses on, none the wiser.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you joke, shaking your head as if that’ll shake off all of his incoming questions. But it doesn’t work nearly as well as you hoped.

“Y’know, I was wonderin’ that myself,” Tommy interjects from the recliner to your right. “You’ve been takin’ photo after photo for almost a year, and I don’t think I’ve seen a single one.”

Maria scoffs next to him, coming to the rescue before you’re forced to come up with a believable explanation. 

“Mind your own damn business,” she smacks him in the chest, then shoots you a sympathetic look. 

You asked for her help not long after you and Ellie started planning Joel’s gift, so she knows how important this is. The last thing she’s going to do is let her husband’s need to stir the pot ruin it. But Tommy’s not the type of guy to give in that easily.

“I’m just sayin’, might be nice take a look at ‘em. You probably got some good ones of the kids in there, ‘specially from birthdays and holidays—,” he manages to get out before Ellie cuts him off.

“Can you guys have this conversation somewhere else? Some of us are actually trying to watch the movie,” she sits up from her spot on your lap to glare in his direction. 

Then, Tommy abruptly stands like something just occurred to him and strides across the room to the mantle above the fireplace—right where you set the camera down earlier. Your heart leaps into your throat. 

“Hold up. This thing’s still got one shot left, don’t it?” he asks excitedly, and you’re not sure how to shut him down without drawing too much attention to yourself or sounding mildly hysterical.

“Well, yeah, but—“

“Oh shit, s’got a timer and everythin’,” he continues, fiddling with its limited settings. He turns back towards the rest of the group and holds up the camera with a grin. “C’mon, everybody get together. We’re takin’ our first official Christmas card photo.”

“But, Tommy—,” you try again, but you’re drowned out by Joel’s sad attempt to leave the room.

“Look, I said I’d watch the movie, but I sure as hell didn’t agree to take a damn Christmas photo,” he grumbles, moving to stand, but you latch onto his flannel before he gets too far. He softens at your downtrodden expression and settles back in.

“Just to be clear, m’doin this for her, not for you,” he amends his previous statement gruffly, throwing an arm around your shoulder. You kiss his cheek gratefully, and Ellie pretends to gag as she shuffles to sit between your legs.

“Whatever you say, big brother. All you gotta do is sit there and look pretty. Think you can handle that?” Tommy teases him, making one final adjustment to the camera's placement. “Alright y’all, here we go.”

He sets the timer, then runs to the couch, squishing into the only available spot between Maria and an armrest. Everyone huddles together with varying levels of smiles and grimaces on their faces while you wait for the camera to go off. Except, it doesn't.

“Wait, how long did you set the timer for?” you peer around Maria to see Tommy looking genuinely dumbfounded.

“…Does it not just go 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, shoot?” he asks sheepishly.

"Oh my god, are you kidding me?" Ellie groans, leaning back against you, and the entire couch bursts out laughing. 

And in that moment, the flash goes off.

Yeah, this is the one.

The photo in your hands feels like the culmination of every memory you made and preserved in the past year. Five faces—and one tiny sleeping one—look up at you, fully developed and as happy as you've ever seen them.

Tommy and Maria sit side by side with their son in her lap, their heads thrown back in laughter. Next to them, Ellie sits between your legs, mid-knee slap, as you cackle with your chin resting on top of her head.

And then there's Joel, grinning from ear to ear as he looks on at the family he's fought so hard to protect. The family that's safe and sound, and enjoying an ordinarily special day, just for the sake of it. You can only hope that a book full of photos and everything it represents will be enough to convince him once and for all that it's the truth.

As you slide the final Polaroid into place, Joel sidles up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist.

"What's all this?" he watches curiously as you close the book and swipe your hand lovingly across the cover. Then, you pick it up and turn in his embrace, leaning back against the kitchen counter. 

"A gift," you reply carefully, hugging it to your chest. 

You glance over to where Ellie's still sitting in the living room, but she shakes her head and offers you a small smile, her delicate way of telling you that you're on your own. You take a deep breath before continuing.

"It's a Christmas present from me and Ellie," you explain, hoping to convey even a fraction of what this means to you. "Look, we know this isn’t necessarily your favorite day, but...we still wanted to do something nice for you."

He nods, his expression frustratingly unreadable. But then he does something unexpected.

"Y'gonna keep huggin' it or are you gonna show it to me?" he drawls jokingly, and your brows shoot up in shock.

"You wanna see it?" 

His face falls, and you immediately feel terrible at the brief wave of hurt that crosses his features. You didn't mean to sound so surprised, but you didn't anticipate this easy acceptance.

"'Course I do. The two of you spent a whole year workin' on this thing, why wouldn't I?"

That grin you know he loves lights up your entire face, and you turn to place his gift back on the counter. Flipping to the first page, you step aside and let him explore it for himself.

He takes in each moment of each season slowly, running his fingers across Ellie's doodles between photos and in the margins. Spring is framed by butterflies that you're somehow just realizing are painted in all of Sarah's favorite colors. 

Ellie added so many painstaking details you'd never talked about. You're not even sure how she knew something like that, but you're grateful it's there. Joel notices it too, and reaches down to take your hand, gripping it tightly for the rest of the book. 

He's silent as flips through summer and fall, and when he finally reaches winter, you feel him begin to tremble beside you. 

The last page sits open in front of you, the photo from earlier flanked on either side by notes from you and Ellie. As he reads, then rereads them, you can see the cogs turning. He's starting to understand why you did this—and how something as simple as a photograph isn't just a look back on a life well-lived. It's a reminder to keep living.

“This is…,” his brows furrow as he tries to find the words to express the conflicting thoughts racing through his head.

“I—I’m sorry, I didn’t get you anything," is what he ultimately settles on, but when he looks up at you, his eyes are wet. You immediately drop his hand to cup his cheeks.

"You didn't need to. I have everything I've ever wanted right here," you tell him gently, brushing away the tears threatening to fall. 

You glance over at the familiar faces in the living room, the same ones looking up at you from the page below, and he follows your gaze. The tension in his body begins to bleed away the longer he watches them, and you learn the wrinkle in his brow isn't actually the permanent fixture it always seemed to be.

He reaches up to cover one of your hands with his own, and you can feel his heart racing through his fingertips. In the back of your mind, you wonder if this is the moment it happens. If his heart grew three sizes bigger today, and if he's finally ready to give himself the gift of peace.

“Merry Christmas, Joel Miller," you whisper, kissing him deeply as the sweet voice of Cindy Lou Who brings the movie credits rolling in the distance to a close.

thanks for reading and happy holidays!

dividers by @saradika-graphics

[sapphosclosefriend]

- Money, Power, Glory pt 5 -

Pairing: CEO! Silverfox! Natasha Romanoff x Escort! Fem! Reader

Genre: smut, fluff, a little pining??

Summary: your Christmas vacation with Natasha couldn't start off in a better way… Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: top! Natasha x bottom! R, Natasha has a penis, big age gap (N=56, R=24), very brief drinking (N), SMUT, anal play (R receiving), butt plugs (R), anal sex (R receiving)

A/N: this story contains smut so anyone who isn’t 18+ DNI. I already have something in mind for the next part, but after that I still don't know how it will go…anyway, Merry Christmas to those who celebrate and happy holidays!!! As usual, likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciated! Enjoy ♡

Masterlist

To say it was cold was an understatement and soon a part of you regretted getting out of bed, despite the turmoil of emotions that plagued your mind any time you stopped for more than one second and got the chance to let your thoughts run free.

It had been weeks since that one beautiful weekend in Cuba and Natasha’s words still echoed clearly in your head.

“You make me wanna be perfect.”

You didn't care about her being “perfect”, she already was, but the thought of Natasha caring about what you thought of her made you feel special, deep down. You made sure not to bring up the topic if not prompted by her, though. You remembered very clearly the uncertainty in her beautiful eyes as she had said those words and, despite the reassurance you had tried your best to give her once she tried to apologize for her confession, you knew she still wasn't completely confident with the things she felt with you.

After her confession, for some time, asking you to spend more than a couple hours with her, something you had done almost as soon as you got to know each other, had started to feel almost overbearing to Natasha. It was her instinct immediately screaming at her to run away, just like usual, but the deal she had made with herself pushed her to try her best this time around. So she ended up doing what had plagued her mind for hours to no end, she asked you to spend Christmas with her. She knew it wasn't a holiday you particularly liked to spend with anybody, so she hoped there could've been a remote chance of you possibly agreeing to spend it with her.

She honestly didn't like how, deep down, she was starting to feel something extremely close to desperation at the prospect of, by chance, spending the day alone, yet again. It usually wouldn't have upset her too much, but this year she felt herself being more emotional than usual, thanks to the tumult of emotions you had been making her feel, which is why she knew that doing her usual trip to that place would've been so much harder than usual…

But luckily enough for her, you said yes and spared her heart an ache she really wasn't looking forward to feeling.

You didn't know what you were expecting when she said she'd bring you to a special place she liked, but a gigantic, wooden mansion in the woods wasn't exactly what you anticipated. At first it didn't really feel like something that would fit Natasha’s character, but when you thought about it a bit more, it was actually the perfect place for someone like her. Yes, it was still incredibly luxurious and slightly over the top, like the strong, stone cold CEO everyone knew her to be, but the quiet nature surrounding it, completely void of the chaos of the city and any people, felt like the real Natasha, the quiet, almost slightly shy one you had gotten to know in private.

You knew she had worked nonstop right until you had left, so you were pretty sure she would've appreciated what you had planned for your first day of vacation.

As soon as you got to your destination and she had given you a brief tour of the beautiful place, you were in her bed, not to do anything scandalous for once. You had barely given her the time to get in the bedroom before you were pushing her on the soft mattress and getting to work to give her the best massage you could, trying your best to relax her tense muscles at least a little bit. Thankfully, it had definitely worked because not only was she moaning the whole time in a way that you could barely ignore by the end of your little session, but she was out for a good three hours as soon as you finished your job.

You wanted nothing more than to bask in her relaxed beauty as she soundly slept next to you, but her calmness almost immediately lulled you into a delicious slumber as well.

You had unfortunately woken up from your nap all alone but you thankfully found her quite easily, despite the extremely large building you were still unfamiliar with.

You immediately missed the warmth coming from the cracking wood in the fireplace as soon as you stepped foot outside. Despite someone having taken care of the previously fully white hangout area right outside of the living room, there were still traces of snow over the large terrace as you shakily crossed it to reach Natasha. Maybe you underestimated the weather a bit too much and you definitely shouldn't have gone out only in sweatpants, uggs and a sweater but it was too late to change now, you needed to be with her.

She was leaning over the railing, facing the frozen lake a couple of feet away from the house while she lazily smoked a cigarette by herself. You had strangely never seen her smoke, but the lighter always sitting on the coffee table in the terrace back at her home suggested she sometimes indulged herself in it. She heard you way before you were able to reach her and, by the time you were by her side, she was already welcoming you with open arms, waiting for you to sneak in front of her to close her coat over the both of you.

"You're gonna freeze to death, detka."

Her murmured words and her voice, still slightly raspy from sleep, warmed you up just a little as you sneaked a hand out of its warm spot to snatch her cigarette and take a drag, appreciating even the small traces of warmth on your fingers from the end burning. Your breath, mixing with the smoke in the cold air, created a thick cloud in front of the two of you as you gave her back her cigarette.

"You should stop."

A sense of déjàvu seemed to suddenly hit Natasha as you repeated the words she'd heard from every single one of her wives. But the usual hints of annoyance she expected to feel at the thought of someone trying to tell her what to do surprisingly never came, leaving her only with the faint need to grant your wish and prevent you from worrying for her.

“If it'll make my sweet girl happy, maybe I will.”

“My”, that word hit you so deep and kept echoing in your mind over and over. How good did it sound, the idea of being Natasha's girl, of being the one next to her in life. It must've been even colder than you thought for your brain to get lost in such thoughts once again. You promised yourself you wouldn't give them air, yet there you were, melting in her arms at such simple words she probably didn't mean in such a deep way. Ok, maybe she did mean them in the exact way you were hoping…

You admittedly couldn't stop thinking about her, the deeper and deeper feelings you had for her plagued your mind all. the. time. And the only thing that reigned in your head every second of every hour was pure, emotional chaos. You knew you had to decide whether you wanted to try to pursue her in a less…professional way, but you hated to admit that you didn't know if you were brave enough to do so. You were still technically working when you spent time with her and hiding behind your job admittedly gave you a small sense of reassurance while you tried to get a grip on your spiraling thoughts.

You hated the fact that you were making her wait, you still hadn't given her a sign as clear as hers that you reciprocated the way she felt for you, and you knew that, if you waited for too long, your chance would've slipped away.

You didn't even really know what caused your stupid hesitation and you hated yourself for it. You could only do what felt the most fitting lately and tried not to think about it for too long. And the beautiful woman pressed right against your back, despite being the cause of your dilemma, at the same time easily gave you the perfect distraction any time you needed.

“It would…tho, I've got to admit, you're so hot when you smoke, jesus christ!”

You used the pretense of the icy weather to hide most of your face behind her warm coat, but she immediately noticed your genuine shyness behind the action at your spontaneous admittance. It warmed her heart every time you left some appreciations slip and got embarrassed for it. She only chuckled at your words and finished the rest of her cigarette in silence, soaking in the calmness from simply being in each other's presence.

As soon as she was done smoking you couldn't help but turn around in her arms, hugging her under her coat and breathing in her intoxicating scent from your warm spot in her hold. Your not so sneaky kiss on her neck as you hugged her could only make her need to feel your lips on hers and, lifting your chin with her index finger, she finally lost herself in a soft kiss. For once, you managed to lazily make out without your clothes immediately ending up scattered everywhere and you had to admit that you loved the tender, yet still passionate, moment just so much more than you expected. You gladly would've spent the rest of the day frozen in that moment, but you knew that, if you didn't stop yourself, you were the one who would've ended up frozen to death. And you wanted to live long enough to at least show her what you had ready for her…

“I have a surprise for you”

You barely managed to break the kiss to murmur the words against her lips and the small glint in her eyes made your stomach flutter like crazy.

“Another one? You're spoiling me, pretty girl.”

She seriously had to stop calling you all those names or else you were sure you wouldn't have been able to handle being called anything else ever again.

“I'm barely repaying you. You do so much for me.”

You felt your cheeks slightly warm up at your own words and the way she sweetly kissed your lips as a response certainly didn't help. You felt some of your confidence come back, though, once your mind went back, once again, at what the rest of the day would've been.

“Now, how about you go get comfortable on the couch, relax a little and wait for me? I'll be quick, I promise.”

“Yes ma'am.”

She smirked as she muttered her words, knowing that was the most you could manage to boss her around. She was more than happy to comply, though. Not only was she actually curious of what was to come, but she knew she would've done basically anything in her comfort zone to make you happy.

So she did just what you said. She made herself a drink, sat on the couch in front of the fireplace and patiently waited for you to finally come back to her. She barely had the time to get herself lost in thought, before the sound of your footsteps got closer and closer to her. The white fur trims were the first things she saw once you rounded the corner and, as soon as your full figure graced her eyes, a playful, yet genuine, smile broke out on her face.

You had decided to do something a little more playful, and got yourself a red velvet mini dress with white fur trims at the bottom of the skirt and the top of the cleavage. If you had to be honest, you didn't even mind it, the dress itself definitely wasn't on the cheap side and you actually felt quite pretty in it. You also knew that Natasha liked something a bit different from time to time, so the thought of making her happy was most definitely a big plus.

“God, detka! You only get prettier, don't you? “

Despite your innocent facade you had purposely put on, your big smile and brief giggle were the most genuine thanks to her words. You couldn't help but lean over, giving her a perfect view of your cleavage in the meantime, to give her a quick kiss on the lips as a way to thank her.

As you turned around to move towards an armchair near the couch she was sitting on, she noticed the small pouch bag you'd been holding behind your back the whole time and couldn't help but grow curious as you got something from it. Leaning over to get the object you were looking for, the short skirt rode up your thighs deliciously, barely covering your center. Natasha knew she would've ended up leaning her head down to get a peak of what was hidden from her if you didn't straighten your back once again. And the initial, very brief, disappointment, immediately got replaced, once again, by anticipation as she intently observed your every movement. Gosh, you were driving her crazy while barely doing anything…

You held the mystery item behind your back the same way you were doing before with the bag and made your way back towards her, stopping in front of her. Natasha could immediately notice the mischievous nature behind the tiny smile you were trying to hide. She was starting to grow restless and she would've almost jumped on you if you didn't start talking.

“You've been very very good this year and I think you deserve a nice reward!”

She didn't utter a word as she waited for you to finish. Curiosity was eating her up, though, and sitting still on the couch, with you standing in front of her, your beautiful body perfectly on display for her, was getting harder by the second.

Thankfully, you easily got her attention as you showed her what you had behind your back.

“But first, you need to help me out with something.”

Your innocent voice and the glass candy cane that was hanging from your index finger, something most definitely void of any innocence, created a contrast that Natasha immediately felt in her pants. She had long given up by then, knowing that even the smallest thing you did or said could've easily gotten her riled up in a matter of seconds.

Her full attention was soon back on you once you'd gotten a secure hold of the candy cane and licked its tip before slowly pushing it into your mouth, stopping only once you had gotten down to its curve. Natasha couldn't stop a low groan of hers at the sight and unconsciously gripped her own thighs as to control herself once you leaned down. Your raised eyebrow and your eyes moving from hers to the toy made her understand what you wanted her to do. Your hollowed cheeks as she slowly pulled the candy cane out of your mouth, helped her pants feel even tighter and your pop once she fully pulled it out made it even worse.

Before she could make sure to calm herself down a bit, though, you turned around and leaned down a little, resting your hands on your own knees. Your new position made the skirt of your dress ride up dangerously and, soon enough, Natasha was finally able to fully see your surprisingly exposed center. She could only hum from the beautiful view of your already glistening core.

“Go on, put it in.”

Your words finally pulled her attention back to your face, as you now tried your best to look back at her. Happy to comply with your playfulness, she immediately went to push the end of the glass toy, now wet from your spit, into your pussy, but your giggle made her stop her movements as her smirk fell.

“Not in there, silly!”

She was at a loss for words and, thinking it was all a dream, she had to make sure she understood you correctly.

“Are you sure?”

You just smiled and nodded as a response and, seeing her still stuck in place, you wiggled your ass a little to get her attention back to her task in hand. Natasha took a deep breath to try to get a grip on herself. She knew that the tent in her pants was only destined to get worse in a matter of seconds.

Once she finally pushed the glass toy into the tight hole of your ass, she couldn't help but loudly curse. Your soft moans as she very slowly pushed more and more of it inside of you were already driving her crazy. Not wanting to go too fast she stopped herself once the straight end of the candy cane was around halfway inside and admired the amazing view in front of her. She could see how you unconsciously tried to squeeze your legs together as you softly whimpered from the different, yet extremely good, feeling.

As soon as she noticed her free hand getting closer to her own pants almost as if on its own, her attention was back on you. You slowly started to move back and forth over the glass toy Natasha held still in her hand and, the thought of possibly feeling her cock inside of you instead, surprised you with a loud moan of your own. Despite the toy's girth being quite alright, you soon found yourself needing more. You wanted her, you needed her. You could also hear Natasha's breathing getting a bit quicker partly thanks to her own hand now massaging herself through her pants.

So you pushed down one last time and, once you reached the curve of the candy cane, making the older woman groan at the lewd sight, you fully lifted yourself off of it with a breathy moan. The toy left a small opening once it left your hole and Natasha couldn't stop herself from imagining what it would’ve looked like if it was her cock you had fucked, instead. In that moment, the need to manhandle you on all fours to fuck you until you couldn't remember your own name hit her stronger than ever since you had known each other. But she did her best to hold herself back to find out what you were planning to do next.

The older woman was partly thankful once you moved away to rummage through your pouch bag, giving her some time to catch her breath and quickly finish her drink in one go. Once you got back, she knew it was all in vain, though.

Of course, the first thing she noticed was the butt plug you were holding that you had covered with lube. How could it not be? She had to admit it took her a couple of seconds to snap out of her trance as she admired you once again standing in front of her, this time offering the new toy to her. Once she was finally able to move a muscle and grab it, you turned around and leaned down like before, waiting for Natasha to do what you silently asked her to. The cold metal on your skin slightly made you jump in surprise as she moved the tip over your hole to get some lube over it too. Feeling her applying a bit more pressure, you tried to relax as much as you could, but couldn't hold back a whine as she gradually pushed more and more. Natasha's low cursing kept gracing your ears and only made you more eager to please her. You held your breath as the widest part pushed past your ring and, just like that, the rest slipped in almost as if on its own, making you yelp in surprise.

You giggled at your own reaction and, looking back at her, you found her eyes still on your center as her hands gently moved over your cheeks. Natasha couldn't believe how much she was being affected by everything you were doing and the sight of the red stone on your tight hole and your pussy now most definitely wet, were starting to make her twitch in her own pants. You still hadn't explicitly said if you wanted her to fuck you, so she made sure

to make the most out of the beautiful view in front of her, definitely more than enough for now.

You unfortunately put a stop to it to stand back up, taking a deep breath and turning around to face her once again.

“Much better!”

Your smile was filled with fake innocence as you leaned down to kiss her on the lips and whisper to her as if you were telling her a secret.

“I'll wait for you in the bedroom”

You barely had the time to leave the living room before she was catching up on you and following you towards the bedroom, shamelessly admiring your exposed thighs. She couldn't stop thinking about what was hidden under your skirt and her anticipation kept growing bigger and bigger with every step you took and every gentle sway of your hips.

You wanted to treat her to a night all about her, and you also selfishly wanted to do it because you liked it too, but she apparently was more needy than you made her out to be.

As soon as you got into the bedroom and you tried to make her lie down to properly worship her body, she was pushing you to stay under her instead. The way she had manhandled you and her slightly flushed cheeks as she hovered over you, made your center spasm around the plug still inside of you, drawing a moan out of you. She couldn't waste one more second, her cock was almost painfully hard and the sight of you lying down under her, with your skimpy dress and your legs open, were making her, if possible, even more eager to have you.

Seeing her frantically taking her pants and underwear off all while looking at your core made you pathetically whimper and you couldn't hold yourself from moving your own hand downwards to gently rub your clit in the meantime. You both knew you wouldn't have been able to indulge yourselves in any foreplay today, so you let her climb on the bed, between your legs, as you made yourself comfortable, ready to let her do whatever she wanted to you. But, before you could lay your head on the pillows, she made you turn around and pulled your ass up, making you kneel on all fours before her. You could barely breathe, she was always the one in charge during your sessions, but this was a slightly different side of Natasha you still hadn't met, unfortunately.

She ran her hands over your ass cheeks once again, lifting your skirt while doing so, before gliding her palms over the small of your back and upwards. Once she got to your shoulder blades she gently, yet purposefully, pushed until the side of your face was pressed against the mattress and your ass was in the air. You could see her admiring you from the corner of your eye and after a few seconds she leaned down a little to get closer to your face.

“Can I take it out, detka?”

Her soft voice was so much different than her actions and it made your heart flutter. You could only eagerly nod and whisper a small “yes, please”, after which she immediately straightened her back up, kneeling behind you, and took a deep breath before taking a hold of the end of the plug. She gently pulled on it, making you gasp at the incredible feeling, and gradually pulled it out. Natasha couldn't help but moan at the sight of your ass stretching over the largest part of the toy and the need to feel you got almost unbearable.

She made sure to get a hold on herself, though, wanting to make the experience as comfortable as possible for you, and thoroughly lubed her cock.

“You ready?”

As soon as you answered positively, she positioned her cock against your ass, trying to calm down her breathing in the meantime.

Your mouth opened in a silent moan as she slowly pushed the head of her cock inside. It felt overwhelming yet not nearly enough at the same time and you didn't know whether you wanted her to stop or give you more. She wasn't even halfway inside when she stopped moving for a little bit to let you get used to it and, in the meantime, admire once again the way your ass tightened around her.

She couldn't believe how good you felt around her even without moving at all and she ended up having to focus on your beautiful face to distract herself while you got more comfortable. Your eyes were closed while you grasped one of the pillows for dear life and your lips looked even more tempting than usual as you shakily breathed through them. She would've gladly leaned down to kiss you with all the lo-care she had, but she wanted to wait for you to be more at ease.

“Please, move”

Your small, trembling voice that finally graced her ears after a bit, sounded heavenly to Natasha, who, taking a hold on your hips, slowly pulled out a little, before pushing back in, gradually going just a little deeper each time. She basked in the blissful sounds you were making and, once she settled on a regular pace, she finally left herself get lost in the pleasure. You finally got to hear her guttural moans as she fucked you still at a quite slow pace. You were sure there couldn't have been a more beautiful sound in the world and you would've gladly done anything to listen to it all the time.

Natasha's hold on your hips kept getting tighter and tighter, almost to the point of it being painful. You knew she was holding back and while at first you were thankful for it, you were once again feeling the gnawing need to feel more of her.

“Oh shit”

Natasha couldn't help but curse under her breath once she started feeling you pushing back against her every thrust, and your loud moan as you tightened around her once again did nothing but drive her wild. You tried to look back at her to admire her beautiful face of pure bliss and, once her eyes met yours, you couldn’t help but moan and move a little bit faster, making her movements quicken as well.

You settled on a steady pace and, while it satisfied you for a bit, you soon found yourselves needing more and more and more. It seemed like it was never enough.

You were desperate to feel each other cum as soon as possible, but, at the same time, you didn't want the blissful moment to end.

After a bit, sensing both of your orgasms approaching, Natasha pushed as much of herself she could inside of you, staying still for a couple of seconds and admiring you as you tried to hold yourself upright. You could barely breathe, if you thought she felt big while fucking you, you were wrong.

Once she finally pulled out, she graced you with a loud groan as you collapsed on the bed. Your and Natasha's heaving was the only sound in the room as you tried to recover as much as you possibly could.

You only noticed the tear that had escaped your eye once she gently wiped it with her thumb, before leaning down and kissing your cheek so softly you barely felt it.

“Are you ok?”

She barely pulled away to whisper her words, lowly speaking as if to make sure no one else could hear her. You only nodded while looking at her beautiful face and basked in the feeling of her hand gently running up and down your back.

“Do you wanna keep going?”

This time your nod was more eager, despite your energy starting to run low, and before she could ask you again, you made sure to confirm your desire with a firm “yes”.

As soon as you complied, she once again kissed your cheek and helped you turn around, letting you lie on your back to face her. She looked so beautiful, even more beautiful than usual, if that was even possible, and you suddenly felt an overwhelming feeling tugging at your heart at the sight of Natasha softly smiling down at you. You almost wanted to cry, but before you could get even more emotional than you apparently already were, you caressed her cheek and leaned up to deeply kiss her on the lips.

As you kept languidly making out, she ran her hands over your thighs as she settled between them and made you open them as much as you could. Once she broke the kiss, she leaned her forehead against yours and pushed her cock back inside of your ass, making you whimper at the even more intense feeling thanks to her closeness this time.

Thanks to the orgasm you both were about to reach just minutes before, you soon found yourselves settling back into a regular pace, gradually growing quicker by the minute.

You couldn't hold back another whine when Natasha straightened her back to stand on her knees, putting some distance between the two of you you admittedly hated deep down. But her hold on your waist as she resumed with a fast pace and her other hand moving to your clit, easily clouded your mind once again.

She was making you once again get closer to your peak incredibly fast and as much as you tried to hold it back for as long as you could, knowing that she was equally close to cumming, made you get even more lost in the highest pleasure you'd ever felt. She looked like a straight up goddess as she breathed hard through her mouth with her eyebrows furrowed, and her eyes roaming every snippet of your figure she could, made you feel like you couldn't be blessed by anything holier in your life.

You never wanted her to stop gracing your eyes and ears and skin. You wanted, no, needed her at all times and the moans that you couldn't hold back were unfortunately the only thing you could offer her back.

You could feel it coming, oh how sweet was your peak going to be, like no other in your entire life.

There it was! It was coming to the surface! No no no no, it wasn't a moan! Why couldn't you stop it!

“I love you!”

.

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Part 6

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Tags: @fxckmiup @natashasilverfox @dmenby3100 @marvels--slut @dvrkhcld @elenimoris @mrsrushman @mrsromanoff @thalia-is-not-ok @alianovnasposts @clintsupremacy @taliiiaasteria @meowymari @lissaaaa145 @natashaswife4125 @olsenmyolsen @angrywhisperslove @aemilia19 @setsuna1415 @letsboandy @mrsromanovaa @wizardofstories @karsonromanoff @scarlettbitchx

[joelscurls]

a heart for melting

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

words: 2.7k

warnings: post-outbreak, implied age gap, themes surrounding child loss and grief, some angst but mostly festive fluff, grumpy x sunshine dynamics (Joel is a grinch & reader loves the holidays), reader is described as having long-ish hair

summary: Jackson's first annual Holiday Market brings about more than just cheer.

a/n: Merry Christmas @thetriumphantpanda; I'm your pedrostories secret santa! I hope you enjoy this lil festive take on grumpy!joel x sunshine!reader — I had lots of fun writing it 🤍🎄 🥧 🪵 🦌

Joel doesn’t want to be here — surrounded by garland and ribbons and so much unadulterated joy, it’s nauseating. No, he was forced to be here. 

Please, Ellie had begged, it’ll be good for you to do something other than patrol or drinking with Tommy. Plus, they’re too good to keep to yourself.

They, being wood carvings — the tiny sculptures of deer and bears and birds, tufts of hair and bunches of feathers drawn out of driftwood with the tip of his blade. It was only ever meant to be a hobby, a way to busy his hands after they’d been wrapped around the cold metal of his rifle all day. Something lighter, creative rather than destructive, an act of giving rather than taking. 

But sharing them with other people? He hadn’t been interested. Maybe he’d make one for Ellie or Tommy. Wrap it up in a piece of cloth and offer it as a gift for their birthday.

Not that he thought they were any good, really.

With the announcement of Jackson’s first annual Holiday Market, though, came Ellie’s pleading. “I’ll help you,” she’d bargained. “You don’t even have to give me anything!”

“Who said I would anyway?” he’d grumbled, digging his spoon into the bottom of his bowl of stew and sifting out a chunk of meat.

Joel despises the Holiday Season. He’d welcomed its disappearance with the end of the world. Because he had no reason to celebrate, with Sarah gone. Her absence stung like salt in an open wound on any normal day. But on Christmas, memories of her hanging her favorite ornaments on the tree and sneaking one of the cookies baked for Santa burned behind his eyelids. Left him heaving through hot tears.

The holidays had no place in his world, but they certainly had a place in Jackson. The first time he and Ellie had strode through those gates, they’d been met with that damned Christmas Tree, towering over the settlement like a beacon. And he hated it, hated the way it brought about that pounding in his chest and that spinning in his head. 

How could anyone find any good in such a poignant reminder of loss? 

Tommy says it’s about new beginnings, finding ways to be happy again. And what’s happier ‘n Christmas? God damn Santa Clause, hot chocolate, children singin’ carols?

Still, Joel isn’t convinced — not yet.

Standing across the mess hall, at your table piled high with baked goods, you are far too cheerful. You’re humming some song with a jovial beat, absentmindedly swaying as you rearrange rows of gingerbread and muffins and scones — all of which are draped in white icing, like flocking on Christmas trees. You pause to wish a happy holiday to everyone who passes through. 

Joel knows he’s seen you before, flitting in and out of the community’s kitchen, always with that signature smile scrawled across your face.

And god, you’re so bubbly, taking to everyone you meet like a bee to honey, letting them in without a care in the world. Popping from table to table, making sure they have enough to eat. That they’re doing well.

It shouldn’t surprise him that you’re so…spirited, too. You seem to find the good in everyone and everything, after all.

It infuriates him, nonetheless.

Joel groans to himself. Stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jeans as an elderly couple rounds on him. 

He grumbles a hello to them when they approach. They offer him half-smiles in return, beginning to pick up some of the carvings laid out on the table — turning them, inspecting them.

“This one’s nice,” the man says to his wife. She hums in agreement. 

“You got any tigers?” the man asks.

“Tigers?”

“Yeah — I used to love ‘em as a kid.”

“Got what’s on the table,” Joel grumbles. 

“You make ‘em custom? I can offer some homemade jam in return — elderberry.”

Joel sighs in annoyance. 

“Don’t make ‘em custom. Got what I got.”

The man seems defeated, nodding and walking off without another word. The woman follows closely behind.

Just as they leave, Ellie appears. She sidles up to Joel and shrugs her jacket off. Pulls a chair up next to him.

“There’s so much cool shit here!” she exclaims, too loud. A judgemental set of eyes flit her direction. She glares right back at them.

“Do you mind?” Joel huffs, jaw ticking.

“Jesus, who pissed in your Cheerios?” 

“How do you even know what Cheerios are?”

“Don’t,” she admits. “I read it in a book.” 

“Of course you did.”

Ellie leans back in her chair, pulling an apple out of her backpack and biting into it. She shuffles some of the carvings around on the table. “Gotta fill in these gaps, man,” she says, juice dribbling down her chin.

Joel ignores her. He sneaks a glance at you; finds that you’re already looking. Your expression is unreadable, gaze unmoving as he studies you.

Despite your upbeat disposition bothering him, he can’t deny that you’re gorgeous: bright, beckoning eyes, siren-like smile — it’s like you’re peering into his soul. 

He didn’t think he still had one of those.

“Dude.” Ellie nudges him. He peels his eyes from you reluctantly. “I asked how many takers you’ve had.”

“Uh.” He pretends to think. 

“You have no fucking idea, do you? Too busy staring at that girl.”

“Wasn’t starin’,” he clips defensively.

“No? Well she’s coming over here, man.”

Sure enough, you’re striding right toward him, abandoning your post. Joel barely has time to prepare for impact.

He unconsciously straightens up and pulls his hands out of his pockets. He brushes them on his jeans just as you stop in front of his table.

“Hi there,” you say.

“Hi!” Ellie chimes.

You pick up a carving of a two-headed deer. His favorite.

“This is beautiful,” you coo. “The craftsmanship is lovely.” You’re running a finger along the grooves in the wood, holding the piece delicately in the palm of your hand — as if it’s made of glass, not wood. “You have a real gift…”

“Joel.”

“Joel,” you repeat. He ignores how sweet his name sounds coming out of your mouth. You tell him your name, and it fits you, he thinks. It’s pretty.

“How long have you been making them?”

“Just since I got to Jackson. ‘ts somethin’ to pass the time.”

You nod. Continue scanning over the intricacies of the deer. “I was never much of a baker before I got here, either,” you joke, gesturing back toward your table.

“Good one,” Ellie laughs. “You’re funny — isn’t she funny, Joel?”

In his head, he’s glowering at her. Outwardly, he feigns amusement.

“Real funny.”

“I’d love to see how you make these sometime,” you say, then, placing the deer back on the table gingerly. “Do you have a workshop?”

“In our shed,” Ellie pipes in before he can say anything. “You should come by tomorrow! Joel’s off patrol.”

He shoots her daggers. She pretends not to notice.

“I’d love that! I have to work in the kitchen, though. I could come by after?”

Joel starts to shake his head no. Ellie’s hand wraps around his arm like a vice grip. He stills.

“Sure,” he grits.

“I can bring some pastries, if you’d like.”

“Don’t like sweets.” 

“Oh,” you say, a little thwarted, but you’re undeterred. You shift on your feet. Chew your bottom lip. “Well, how about something not sweet, then?”

Your brows lift, narrowed eyes on him as you await a response. Joel still isn’t thrilled about the prospect of a visitor. Really, he doesn’t like anyone on his property that isn’t Ellie, or Tommy and Maria if he’s invited them. But you don’t seem so bad, offering to bring him food. 

He can probably deal with your sunny disposition in exchange for a full belly. Lord knows he went too long without that luxury, and he’d be a fool to deny himself of it ever again.

So, he agrees, the garbled sure less than enthusiastic leaving his mouth. Still, you don’t seem too offended. In fact, you smirk at him, wordlessly sauntering back to your table, sneaking glances at him every so often for the remainder of the afternoon.

Sure enough, the next evening, while Joel is whittling in the shed, you show up.

You’re wielding a basket of savory hand pies, as promised, and Joel has to stop himself from drooling. They smell incredible. And they’re still warm, somehow, steam wafting off of them even after your walk here.

“Come in,” he gruffs, his nose following the scent like a dog’s as he trails behind you inside.

His set up is minimal: a rocking chair next to a bench, a couple stools he made for when Tommy comes by to play poker. But his works are scattered throughout, every surface in the small room cluttered with little carvings.

He settles atop one of the stools as you begin to wander around the room, plucking sculptures off shelves and awing at them with such genuine admiration, it causes something to pull in his chest.

Every so often, you make a remark about the details in a piece, how the fur on the deer looks real, how you can practically smell the replica evergreen in your grasp.

And something shifts — carried by your kind words through the stuffy shed.

Taken by the slight lilt in your voice when you speak to him, the almost-shy smile that pulls at the corners of your lips — Joel is attracted to you.

He’s following the line of your neck down to your collarbone, ogling at the exposed skin there when you pick another carving up off the shelf. And he feels guilty — he shouldn’t be looking at you like this. You’re just being nice, being neighborly, and he’s gawking at you like you’d have any interest in him.

No; you’re young, beautiful, could do a lot better than an old grump like him. 

He averts his gaze quickly when you suddenly set down the tiny, carved bird that had been in your palm, round the workbench and perch yourself atop the stool next to his. You retrieve a handpie out of the basket and pass it over to him. 

“It has braised rabbit and carmelized onions in it,” you explain, taking a bite and letting the steam roll out. 

He follows suit and — it tastes just as good as it smells, if not better. He’s salivating again, letting the dough melt in his mouth before swallowing. 

The two of you eat in comfortable silence, getting through the entire basket in mere minutes.

When you’re finished, you ask him where he’s from. 

The question shouldn’t feel like such a shock to the system. But after a year of being in Jackson, successfully avoiding conversation about his life before the outbreak, it sets off a panging between his eyes, a dull ache in his viscera. 

“Texas,” he tells you plainly. “From Austin, originally.”

You nod. And you must be able to tell that he’s not used to talking about himself — by the tick of his jaw or the lack of eye contact — he’s not sure. Because you don’t pry. Instead, you say, “you can ask me something.”

He nods. Thinks on it for a moment.

“When did you arrive here? To Jackson?” 

Unlike him, you do not grimace at the intrusion. Instead, you tell him: about your parents, their untimely deaths, the harrowing road that led you here. You do not cry, but Joel can see the pain in your shiny eyes. 

It’s inevitable; there isn’t a single person here who hasn’t been dealt a bad hand. But you wear your past like a badge of honor, like you’re still grateful, after it all, to be alive.

Joel envies your tenacity.

So when you ask him about Ellie, if she is his daughter, he lets the walls around him down — just an inch. He doesn’t get upset when he stumbles over his words while telling you about Sarah. He finds comfort in confiding in you, in the way you so attentively listen, quietly nodding along as he recalls his version of the end of the world.

“Thank you,” you say when he’s done, burying his hands back in his pockets.

“For what?”

“For sharing that with me. I know it can be difficult to relive it.”

“I relive it everyday,” he admits. “Everything reminds me of her in one way or another.”

“I understand,” you nod. He believes you do.

So sweet, gaze like honey, you are an enigma to him. He hasn’t met many people who are kind just for the sake of it — not in a long while. Maybe that’s why he’d been so bothered by it at the market. It had felt almost unnatural to him, bound to be laced with an ulterior motive. 

He’s still learning how to trust people again. It doesn’t come easily after twenty-odd years of rationing it like the pills he’d stowed. Still, there is something innate about baring his soul to you. Letting you in through the cracks in his battered being. You are safe, he’s sure of it; benevolence radiating from you like warmth.

It drips off your tongue when you ask him to show you how he does his craft — slips down your fluttering lashes. No longer can he deny you of anything — he’s accepted this swiftly — and so he obliges.

A half-whittled fox materializes from his coat pocket, along with his blade. He passes both to you and pulls his stool closer to yours.

He guides you, taking your hand in his, encouraging the press of the blade into the wood. Shows you how to round out a corner with a subtle twist of the knife. You’re a fast learner, Joel notes, attentive, taking every instruction like gospel.

The slow drag of steel, your fingers wrapped tightly around the handle; you’re so focused that you jump slightly when he places a reassuring hand on your knee.

“Doin’ great, darlin’,” he says, and your lips pull around pearlescent teeth. Joel feels as enraptured by you as you do the carving — the loose tendrils of hair that drape over your shoulder, the clinging of cotton to your soft curves. Though he hardened into stone a long time ago, he feels smelted in your presence. So he cannot help it when his fingers begin to drift up your leg, settling at your side as he turns his body toward yours.

The blade stalls, tip still stuck into the wood, puncturing the fox’s non-existent spine, and your face lifts. 

“Is this okay?” he whispers. You nod, gaze flickering between his eyes and his lips.

You’re so close like this; Joel can smell the floral perfume dappled along your neck, can feel your warm breath fanning his face. He has half a mind to stop himself from sealing the sliver of distance left between you. But then you’re sighing, placing the blade and the wooden fox on the tabletop. And it’s your turn to guide him — winding your delicate fingers around his wrist and settling his hand at the small of your back.

The air in the tiny workshop grows heavy with unspoken desire, a longing to disrupt; to create. Your body forms to his languidly, arms interlocking behind his neck, fingers weaving in his hair to pull him closer to you. And then your lips press to his — hesitant at first, then not. You drink from each other until you are drunk, breathless and giddy when you separate. 

“That was nice,” you whisper, and Joel chuckles. 

“Just nice?”

“Great,” you amend. “It was great. Better than I imagined, even.”

“You imagined this?”

“Yes,” you smirk. “On a loop since I first saw you at the market.”

He pulls you back in. Gives you another chaste kiss. “For good measure.”

“Joel,” you say then, “will you and Ellie come by mine on Christmas? I could even cook — it’s just-”

“Yes,” he’s accepting before you can finish. “I’d love that. As long as you make more of those,” he gestures toward the empty basket on the workbench. 

“That can be arranged,” you grin.

As soon as you leave that evening — sent off with a goodbye muttered between slotted mouths — Joel starts on your Christmas present. 

end notes: thank you for reading! Please consider reblogging or leaving a comment if you enjoyed <3

[ad0rechuu]

FROM STORM TO SUNRISE. ━━ JYH & SMG

prompts / plot. ━━━━━ you and your boyfriend yunho wake up to find your other boyfriend mingi no where to be found

part of the secret santa event. ━━━━━ fem! foreigner!reader x boyfriends! jeong yunho & song mingi , two shot : domestic fluff / slight angst (?) / an attempt at humor / soulmate au , staring: yn, yunho, mingi, mrs yang (oc) & an unnamed baker + cashier , rating: pg-13 , tw: mentions of food, metaphorical storms and tornadoes and yn is basically panicking most of the time , wc: 1421 , notes: no pronouns used but fem reader + foreigner part not mentioned and yunho & mingi aren’t soulmates but this is all because of the prequel, also i imagined the town from hometown cha cha cha for this fic !

[ to @justhere4kpop aka nadia . . . ] happy holidays (and merry christmas if you celebrate) nadia! i was your secret santa, did you have any idea? either way i have to start by apologizing i was planning a much larger fic but than a bunch of things in my personal life came crashing down so i decided to continue writing the other fic (the prequel to this one) later which means you will get two gifts ! i know the writing is terrible with this one but if you liked this someone how it’s a nice surprise for both of us! i hope you have a wonderful day and i love you mwah <3

[ listening to . . . ] Dreamy Day by Ateez

masterlist | credits to @ari-shipping-stuff for being my beta reader / writer <33

WARM RAYS OF SUNSHINE SHONE GENTLY THROUGH THE LARGE WINDOW, ALLOWING YOU TO WAKE UP IN PEACE.

You slowly opened your eyes while you stretched your arms up from underneath the blankets, a smile making its way onto your face as you felt the arm draped over your stomach move you closer in his tight grip.

Turning, you met your boyfriend’s squinting eyes. Clearly, he'd just woken up too. He dropped his head in the crook of your neck and placed a kiss underneath your shirt on your bare shoulder— a silent good morning.

You'd just woken up and you already felt giddy. You moved your hand to the mattress next to you, searching for your other boyfriend’s warm body.

Your eyes opened fully, head snapping to his usual side of the bed when you realize he wasn't there. A small storm of worry brewed in your chest as you nudged your present partner, who seemed close to going back to dreamland.

He whined a bit and it took every bone in your body not to coo at him. You managed to get over your cuteness aggression enough to ask.

“Yunho, honey, where is Mingi?”

He was the early bird in your relationship after all. If anyone would know, it would be Yunho.

To your surprise, he didn't.

“I don’t know? Maybe in the kitchen? Bathroom?” He slurred, clearly not feeling the same sense of urgency as you yet.

“M’kay. I’m gonna look for Mingi. I’ll be right back.” You ruffled his already messy hair before removing yourself from his comfortable grip. The movement only caused more whining from the sleepy giant.

Yunho heard you make your way through the apartment. Your bare feet making a rhythm of soft steps on the linoleum floor, and your groggy but comforting morning voice called out Mingi’s name over and over again.

Your voice got more and more nervous with each call of his name ringing out with no response.

When you walked back into the bedroom, Yunho was sitting cross-legged on the bed with his phone in his hands. He gave you a worried look, the gravity of the situation finally catching up with him.

“Nothing?” He asked.

You fell back on the bed with a sigh as you shook your head no, racking your brain for where your boyfriend could possibly be at nine in the morning on the weekend. You felt Yunho reach over and gently push some hair out your face in an attempt to calm you down.

“I tried texting him but I got no answer either.”

Just as you were about to respond, a sharp feeling washed over you, knocking the wind out of your lungs.

You knew what that feeling meant. It only happened when your soulmate was experiencing a strong emotion. It could range from heartbreaking sadness to mind boggling happiness to excruciating pain.

You jumped up, clutching the arm that has Mingi’s soulmate mark on it. Your eyes met Yunho's.

“I think Mingi is in trouble!”

SADLY, A SOULMATE BOND did not include a GPS. At least, that was not the kind you were blessed with. That would have saved you the trouble of walking aimlessly through the town in your pajamas and winter coats.

Due to Yunho not being Mingi’s soulmate and your soulmate mark being basically sharing skin with Mingi, you were no further than when you left the house half an hour ago.

Yunho wrapped his arm around your shoulders, rubbing it in an attempt to shield you from the cold morning weather on the island. It was a sweet gesture. The growing panic heated your cheeks more then enough, but you appreciated the comfort of it nonetheless.

He stopped his brisk pace for a second and looked at you like a lightbulb went off in his head.

“Have you tried writing to him?” He asked.

You responded immediately by looking through your pockets for a pen or a marker, or anything that could stain your skin, but to no avail.

Yunho had the same luck. But he pointed you to the closest store, and without any words needed, the two of you rushed into the building, probably giving the poor cashier a heart attack.

“Excuse me, do you have a pen or something I could borrow? It’s an emergency!” You panted as her face contorted in confusion. She reached over next to her and handed you a pen anyway.

Before you could, Yunho quickly but gently raised your sleeve up, baring your arm for you. Despite the pressure, it made you want to giggle like a school girl. You kept your lovey-dovey feelings to yourself and began to write.

‘Song Mingi, where the hell are you?’

Normally, whenever you’d write something on your body and vice versa (left side for Mingi, and right for Yunho), the receiving party could felt a tingling sensation even before reading the message. You hoped with all your being that Mingi received that sensation right then too.

After staring at your arm for five minutes, you began to feel your heart speed up even more when you heard Yunho gasp from next to you as the letters you previously wrote where erased.

Finally, you felt the storm that had turned into a tornado in your heart calm down a bit, and the letters you wrote were replaced by messy yet familiar handwriting revealing Mingi’s location.

THERE HE WAS.

Through the display window of the bakery, you and Yunho saw him.

Mingi clutched a colorful box while one of the village elders, Mrs. Yang, pulled on the other side. Both seemed to be in an intense battle as the baker behind the counter watched the two awkwardly.

The closer you got, the more it hit you; the sharp feeling you felt wasn’t sadness, anger, or pain— it was his sheer competitiveness.

Yunho held the door open and both of you stepped through with the sound of the bell signaling your arrival. The baker gave you a friendly nod, but neither Mingi nor Mrs. Yang seemed to notice you, still too fixated on arguing over what you now saw was a beautifully decorated cake.

“Song Mingi!” Your voice resounded through the store as you crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow at him.

The man in question immediately forgot about the cake and trailed towards you like a puppy. He looked at you and Yunho with big eyes full of confusion.

“Baby, what're you doing here? Gosh, both of you are wearing pajamas, aren’t you way too cold?” He asked, cradling your face in his hands.

He tossed Yunho a judgmental look as if suspecting he was the reason you guys were here.

The older man flicked Mingi’s forehead before shaking his head. “Don’t look at me like that. None of this would’ve happened if you knew how to answer your phone or leave a note.”

“Yeah, we were so worried something happened.” You grabbed his attention along with one of the hands that was still on your cheek.

Mingi looked down sheepishly, his cheeks slightly reddening.

“Ah, I’m sorry. You said you were craving cake yesterday so I wanted to surprise you and Yunho with cake as breakfast in bed.” He pointed behind him, doing a double take as the cake he was just ready to risk his life for was long gone.

A heartbroken expression made its way onto his face. He looked at the baker, who only chuckled.

“I’m sorry, man. You snooze you lose.”

The baker pointed outside, where Mrs. Yang was gleefully walking away from the bakery with the precious cake in her hands.

Yunho let out a boisterous laugh, clutching his stomach as you patted the pouting boy’s cheek. Though that wasn't to say you weren't trying to reign your own laughter in as well.

“It’s okay, Ming! It’s the thought that counts.”

After a couple more minutes of comforting Mingi about his lost battle, he finally agreed to get another sweet pastry (which Yunho demanded to choose as compensation for everything).

As you three walked out of the store, you didn’t feel a storm or a tornado brewing in your chest. You felt a lovely calm wash over you as both of your boyfriends linked hands with you, one carrying the box with a well-deserved red velvet cake in it on the way home.

All the worry was replaced in no time with a warm domestic sunrise growing in your heart, and you knew exactly who were to blame for that.

networks. @cromernet @wonderlandnet

notes. again i did the gen tag list on hopes and prayers so i hope i have it right, please tell me if u want to be removed or added

taglist. @yuyusuyu @seonghwaddict @tocupid @leo-seonghwa @aestheticsluut @mrowwww @i-luvsang @cybrsan @kodzumo @gyumibear @nyukyujs @a1sh1teruu | send me an ask to be added to the general obey me or kpop taglist (or both ofc)

[koolades-world]

Christmas in the Devildom

Christmas wasn’t something the Devildom celebrated before your arrival. It felt inherently wrong, and to the brothers, strange to celebrate the birth of what could only be considered an estranged brother to them. Jesus always was the favorite anyways, considering he got a whole holiday. But once you arrived, and they saw how important things like this were to you, they began to grow accustomed more human traditions.

Diavolo wholeheartedly threw himself, and his kingdom, into the festivities. If there wasn’t already snow, he arranged for magical fake snow. Christmas tree tents and Christmas shops appeared everywhere. He even went as far as to dress up as Santa on a few occasions. The Little D’s were made into elves which Dia thought was hilarious.

Lucifer needed to stop Mammon from stealing gifts, both his and others, and Asmo from peaking, so he went as far as curse the gifts. Anyone who’s touched them and taken them further than the tree had the word “naughty” written across their forehead. Diavolo thought this was very festive and funny, so he took a present on purpose so he could have it too. Lucifer was not amused. Satan tried and failed to trick Lucifer into getting it written on his forehead too. He ended up with on his own forehead and had to cover it with a Santa hat he deemed ugly.

After learning Christmas wasn’t really a thing in the Devildom, you took the place by storm and showed them all your favorite traditions. Christmas baking, gingerbread houses, white elephant, tree and house decorating, and so much more. You couldn’t believe on how much they were missing out on. You recruited the Purgatory Hall residents for help, but Solomon was “promoted” to supervisor when it came to anything cooking or baking. Both Luke and Simeon were already acquainted with the idea of Christmas and were more than happy to help. According to Solomon, it has been at least 100 years since he last celebrates Christmas, so he was rusty but willing to learn again.

You, Simeon, Luke, and Barbatos had a gingerbread house building competition. To be honest, all you had going for you was your Christmas spirit, but at least the others offered to make it a 2v2. Barbatos offered to be on your team and together you made a replica of the Demon Lord's Castle. Despite being there and actively helping for the full creation, you still don't know how it happened. Luke and Simeon ended up making a replica of Purgatory Hall. The judges (Diavolo, Lucifer, and Solomon) could not come to a consensus and it ended in a draw. The brothers, minus Lucifer, attempted and failed to make a replica of the House of Lamentation. It's safe to say they would not have won.

The brothers and a few other demons became enamored with the ideas of mistletoe and they all tried to catch you under it on many occasions. You made sure to distribute the kisses evenly to make sure one wasn’t getting more than they were owed and you yourself went out after those who you thought weren’t being proactive. Surprisingly, Belphie got in the most. You stopped counting after Christmas Day but he kept on using the mistletoe until New Years. You originally thought he carried it in his pockets with him, but you checked yourself while he was asleep and found nothing. Honorable mentions went to Levi, who tried his hardest but only actually got about two kisses in since he kept backing out.

You also made sure Christmas Eve and Christmas Day were special, with help of course. Beel and Lucifer were perfect for setting up the tree and other decorations that needed to be up high. Mammon was great help on Christmas morning since he tended to follow you around like a lost puppy, and Asmo was very helpful for Christmas dinner. Levi helped you cover all your bases with presents since he was surprisingly good at wrapping ang selecting gifts to give. In conjunction with Barbatos, they coordinated the secret Santa. Everyone was happy with their presents!

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays everyone!! Dealing with slight writers block right now so apologies for the lack of content but please enjoy what I do manage to put out <3

[ladyescapism]

Rendezvous- Azriel Smut

summary: Azriel has a illicit rendezvous with a red-headed princess.

a/n: happy winter holidays everyone! I hope everyone who celebrates had a merry Christmas! enjoy some no plot, just smut with Azriel and an unnamed Vanserra sister.

warnings: smut

wc: 1,300

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Azriel stopped kissing her neck. She whined in protest. 

Pathetic, he crooned. 

She whimpered again, lost in the pleasure that not only his praise brought her, but also his degradation. 

Everything about her pissed him off. The way her fire-red hair was wound into his hand. The way her honey-colored eyes passed over him for centuries, letting him know, without a word, she thought him beneath her. 

Nevertheless, she was going to be begging for his cock soon enough. 

He continued what he had done to dozens of females before her. He teased and sucked and made them beg for hours before he gave them the fucking they wanted. 

Azriel had known for a very long time that there was something wrong with him. There was something wrong with how he wanted to degrade females. With how he got off on having the complete control over how, when, and how often they came. There was always a tinge of guilt of how he treated the females he bedded, no matter how they claimed that they wanted the treatment, provided he was kind to them after. 

He didn’t feel that guilt as Eris’ little sister ground her sopping cunt onto his leg and moaned at the friction he was failing to give her. 

She was sitting astride his lap, her knees on either side of his hips where he sat on a cushioned sofa. Her hand had found its way into his hair and her lips were on his neck. This was starting to border on getting out of his control. 

With one had still tangled in her hair, he gripped her hip with just enough force that he wouldn’t leave a bruise. In one movement, he tipped her head back to the celling and ground her lower body onto his leg again. 

Ah…ah… like that, she moaned out. Her neck was bared to him. If he wanted to give her everything he could offer, he would attack her neck and leave marks on her for everyone to see in the morning. 

Her breasts were heaving out of the dress she was wearing. It had been pulled down from the place where it so primly sat on her chest just minutes ago. He resisted the temptation of pulling the neckline down and taste her there. 

He did not. Azriel instead reached his hand under her skirt. The modest layers of various shades of pink, ranging from a daybreak blush to a deep rose that flounced and flowed when she danced earlier were bunched around her waist, exposing her pale legs. 

Her strong thigh flexed and trembled as his hand slid towards her center. Azriel dipped his fingers into her wet heat and allowed her to hear him chuckle at what he found. He used the wetness he found there to lubricate his fingers as they found and circled her clit. 

She kept moaning. If she kept it up, he would find a better use for her mouth. 

It had occurred to him that it would not be very hard to discover them. She had pulled him into a powder room attached to the gallery in the expansive house. It was not in use for Eris’ coronation gala. He did not see anyone on their way in, and he did not sense anyone entering the massive hall. He would keep a shadow on watch in case someone got too curious as to where the princess went. More for keeping the headache that would follow his family finding out than to protect her reputation. 

She was riding his hand now. His fingers had slipped back inside her and he could feel the muscles in her hips and ass flexing with the movement. She let out another lewd moan. He eased his hand out from the tangle of her dress. 

She snapped her head back level and her eyes flared with frustration at his lack of intrusion. Before she could speak, he shoved her soaked fingers into her mouth, gagging her a bit.

Taste it, he commanded. 

She did. She moved her tongue over and on the sides of his fingers, licking her wetness from him. It seemed she was enjoying the sweet taste of herself mixed with the saltiness of Azriel’s skin. 

He used a shadow to unfasten his pants. His cock was hot and hard and already seeping with precome. She noticed that he had freed himself. She pulled her head back, sucking the tips of his fingers as she did, and peered down at him. Her tongue darted out and licked her bottom lip. Azriel tracked the movement with hungry detail. 

The hand that she had left in his hair tightened just enough to get his attention. 

Tonic, she breathed. I am on it. You? 

He confirmed that he, too, took the contraceptive tonic. 

He shifted his hid forward enough that she would be able to sit on his cock. When she reached to touch him, he let out a hiss at how cold her hand was on him. She quickly slotted him to her slit. She looked him dead in the eyes as she slid down on him. 

He halted her by gripping her hips. 

Beg for it, he seethed, air pushed between his gritted teeth. She felt so warm and wet that his instincts were screaming at him to drive up into her, to let her ride him till he pumped her full. 

She squirmed. 

If you don’t start, he threatened. I will leave you very unsatisfied. 

His pride would never let him do that. However, she did not need to know that. 

Please, Azriel, she conceded. Please fuck me. 

Why should I? Mother above he was an ass. 

Because I need it. Before he could prompt her more, she added, Because I can make you feel good, too. 

He pulled her down so that she was fully seated on his length. Her mouth opened in what looked like a silent scream. 

We’ll see about that, was the last thing he said before he began pounding into her. 

She tried to control the pace but gave up quickly as Azriel found his rhythm of pushing his hips up just as he pulled her body down. She accepted that right now, she was simply a vessel for his pleasure. 

Azriel almost lost his focus as the barest edge of a pink nipple escaped from her dress. He gave up on keeping her chest from himself and with half a thought to his shadows, the top of her dress was pulled down. 

She let out a gasp as the cool air met her flushed skin. Her nipples were already hard from arousal. Her tits were bouncing with the movement, so close to his face that mere inches separated him from tasting her sensitive skin. Instead of breaking his pace, he had his shadows come and tweak her nipples, making her begin to moan even louder. 

Azriel had the good sense to throw up a shield to keep her sounds to himself. The muscles of her inner walls were clenching him even harder and from the noises her was making she was about to come. 

Az…Azr-ahhhh, she cut herself off as her climax took over. He kept pounding her through every wave, letting her ring her pleasure form him. 

After it seemed she was riding the aftershocks, Azriel let loose the climax that had been building. His trusts became wild and uneven as he filled her with wave after wave of hot come. The groan he let out as the pleasure danced through every fiber of his being shook the shield he had thrown up. 

She moved herself some, trying to extend his pleasure, but it didn’t seem she could find the strength.

When both caught their breath, she looked at Azriel and lust had dilatated her pupils till the honey brown was taken over by the depthless black. She gave him and small as she sat on his cock. The way his heart fluttered at receiving that smile had him rapidly coming to the conclusion that he was completely fucked in more ways than one. 

tag list:

@feysandzoyalailover @fanfictioniseverything @humanpersonlasttimeichecked @singhillada @marina468 @acourtofbooksandshadows

ps: my tag list is as updated as I have seen. if you want to be added let me know in the comments or in a private message. thanks!

[lilacliquors]

pairing: billy butcher x reader

word count: 1166

notes: on the twelfth day of ficmas, lilacliquors gave to me ... billy butcher learning the true meaning of christmas!

and this is the final day of ficmas!! i said it the other day, but thank you so much for participating in our very successful 12 days of ficmas, and for enjoying the little one shots.

the full masterlist will be queued up for christmas day as a little gift to you, and then i'll go back to posting the stuff in my inbox / some other things in the coming days! have a happy holiday if you celebrate, and a very happy new year <3

if anyone was a pre-roast beast carving grinch, it was billy butcher. he was never one to get into the holiday spirit, claiming he had nothing to celebrate. nothing you did could help change his mind, he was so set in his ways. you, on the other hand, loved the holidays. they filled you with a kind of joy that only came around once a year. it had always been a big holiday with your family, and you carried on a lot of the traditions you all had. 

you had your three types of cookies to bake: almond crescent, peppermint pinwheels, and gingerbread men. you started playing christmas music on black friday, queueing up your favorites right away and changing the radio station on the weekends to the one you knew would be playing nonstop holiday tunes. you had your whole apartment decorated just days after thanksgiving, and it looked perfect every time. so perfect, in fact, that billy couldn’t help but be in awe when he came by to visit you.

he knew you loved the holidays, he just couldn’t understand why. to him, it was just any other time of year, just much colder and far more annoying when you had random people ringing bells and collecting for sham charities. it was a load of bullshit to him, but rather than dim your light, he kept his mouth shut when he was with you. today was going to be a little harder, though, because he was joining you on a little shopping trip.

“why are we doing this again?” he asked, watching as you wrapped your scarf around your neck.

“because i picked a few names from an angel tree, and we’re going to give those kids a merry christmas. come on, this is the fun part,” you said.

“angel tree? the fuck is that?” he held the door open for you, and you both ventured out into the cold.

“okay, so, it’s a tree that has the names, ages, and christmas wishes of children from families that might not have the means to celebrate christmas. so, you pick a name, or a few, from the tree, and you fulfill their christmas wish! i think it’s a really great cause, i do it every year,” you explained, walking beside him down the sidewalk. billy said nothing, but just simply shrugged his shoulders. sounded like a load of shit to him, but you were excited for it, so what was the harm in humoring you?

you made it to the department store, and once inside, you pulled out the tags of the children whose names you picked. to billy’s surprise, you had around five tags in your hands, and he guided you to the side as you read them out.

“okay, i picked ones who asked for clothes, but not as many toys. they’ve got the sizes listed, so this will be a piece of cake. come on!” you tucked the tags away, took billy’s hand, and started making your way to the children’s section of the floor. 

“i thought kids wanted all them fuckin’ noisy pieces of junk. why’d you pick clothes?” he asked, watching as you thumbed through the wracks of clothes.

“clothes tend to be more expensive, and not as many people feel inclined to pick them. they think toys are easier, and that all kids want toys, no matter what. but sometimes, all these boys and girls want is a new winter coat, since theirs is two sizes two small. or warm pajamas, or new sneakers because their feet are too big. they don’t ask for much, they know they can’t. so why deny them this in favor of some plastic?”

billy fell silent as he watched you hold up a coat. it was purple with a soft lavender lining, a hood on the back, and pockets that zipped shut. it looked warm, cozy, perfect for a little girl. you set it over your arm and went back to looking, and billy held out his hand.

“here, let me hold the tags. i’ll read them out to you,” he said, and you smiled.

“thanks. here you go.” you handed him the tags, and he read them over himself. just like you had described, four out of the five asked for winter jackets. one asked for a sweater, another for new winter boots. he glanced up at you, and you now had a few more coats in your arms, and you looked over to confirm you had the right sizes.

“all right, you think these will do?” you asked, holding up your haul.

“i think they’re perfect. let’s go find that sweater, and those boots.”

you walked along together, and with him beside you this time, you looked through the children’s sweaters. this one was for a little girl, age six, and nothing was really speaking to you. but then, to your surprise, billy held up a light blue sweater with beautifully knitted snowflakes on it.

“what do you think of this one?” he asked, angling it so you could see better.

“i think it’s perfect, but check the size.”

“already did. it’ll fit her, promise.”

you smiled, then gave him a thumbs up. he smiled a bit, then draped it over his arm before you went on to find the rest of the items on the tags. soon, both his and your arms were full of other clothes, the coats, and one teddy bear that billy picked out for a little boy. you made it to the register, and together, you split the cost of everything. once it was bagged and you were on your way, billy wrapped his arm around your shoulders and tucked you close to his side.

“you’re a good one, you know that?” he asked as you walked.

“so are you,” you replied.

“nah, not me. always been a heartless bastard.”

“a heartless bastard wouldn’t have found that teddy bear. or that sweater. give yourself some credit here, butcher. you’re gonna help make this christmas the best one some of these kids have ever had. it’s the most wonderful time of the year, after all. season of giving and all that,” you said, nudging him gently. he glanced down at the bags between you, then shrugged again and offered a small smile.

“yeah, maybe it is. but that one woman in the toy aisle was a right cunt. did you see the look she was givin’ me?” he asked, and you laughed.

“oh my god, of course i did! it was like she’d never seen a grown man with a teddy bear before. he was a cutie, by the way.”

“mh, cute little fucker. guess that’s what this is all about, eh? making other people happy?” 

“that’s how i’ve always seen it.”

“then … as long as i get to make you happy, i can give this holiday shit a try. starting next year.”

a whole 365 days away? you smiled. after all, it was a start.

[skyethewolfwizard]

If you are seeing this, it is Christmas in the eastern half of the world. Merry Christmas to those who celebrate, and let's have a happy holiday to those who don't.

@f4y3w00d5 @good-wizard @ash-the-tiefling @aroace-wizard @be-gentle-with-littluns @viscerawizard @exispencer-crisis @gobo-dos-goblin @mayhem-moth @mothman-minus-the-man @bisexualchemistry @anne-androgynous-android @kaylasartwork @ruby-angel-wizard @helpfulapprentice @cannibalcanid @im-a-wizard-who-dont-crime @verylegalwizard @detectivewizzard @dude-the-ancient-dragon @dragoneatingpaladin @slymewitch @finleyforevermore @viscerawizard @ladyofspoons @latikon @the-adhd-sorcerer @yourlocalbreadenthusiast @drewpdrop @expletive-wizard @mtfjohnscp @mtf-agent-robin @the-discerning-skull @monsterfucker-research-wizard @vexum-the-diviner @l1terally-justawizard @goblinofthelaboratory @gobodegoblin @rohza-is-a-bit-gay

@pie-tra (Who I miss very much)

@aileaxthevoidien (Who I hope will get to see this)

And anyone and everyone else. Tag your moots aswell, as I am sure I have missed many.

And I would just want to thank you for all of your presences, even being around, popping up on my dash, or even interacting with me has always made me happy.

I hope that each of you get to live your dreams, and that whether we see each other again, or our paths are doomed to be parallel and never meet, know that you have had some positive impact on this world full of blight and evil.

I hope you have a wonderful holidays, and that maybe, even though it's unlikely. We may meet again. Whether it's physically or online, seeing you just one more time will always bring light to my day.

Now, since it's the end of the year, and this is somewhat like a meet up, let's sing a song to celebrate what might be (although unlikely) our last meetup all together.

And also of course an appropriate Christmas song from the one and only,

I hope to see you next year, I love each and every one of you. Stranger, mutual, friend, or anyone inbetween. :3

And maybe in a distant future, we will see each other and our true selves all together in one room. The dream many have, and I hope we will be amongst the ones to achieve it.

[elegantmusicdragon]

Adventures in Bravo-Sitting

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x Babysitter!Reader (f!Reader probably? Can be gn!Reader for now)

Rating/Warning: Just some language! Words that rhyme with certain swears. Me being a menace. You know how it goes.

A/N: Okay so this is for @blueeyesatnight who just went a on a Dieter/Babysitter journey with me and inspired me to crank this fic out in two days. Haven't written a fucking thing except a fic I won't post and THIS. Blue, you're the best and Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas (if you celebrate) and thank you so much for the inspo! Our Dieter/Babysitter thread is my favorite thing and also if you wanna write some of these two or your own version PLEASE DO IT. I encourage it! Much love to you.

To anyone else who may read this: thanks for sticking around and checking this not beta'd dumpster fire. I have no clue what this is. It came out of my brain and onto the page in a frenzy. But it's fine. I'm fine. Everything's fine. Enjoy! And Happy Holidays!

You are terribly confused. 

"We know this is highly unconventional." 

Well, that's putting it mildly. 

"In all honesty, I've seen weirder." A nightmare child smearing his feces all over the baking appliances and a cake his mother had made takes the trophy as of now. Though this situation is a close second. 

The woman, Amanda, smiles at you - relief flooding her features. She readjusts herself on the ridiculously fancy chair she's sitting on. Behind her, a small cluster of people in suits and business skirts gather. And between Amanda and the group? A man. Well, not man. Celebrity. A celebrity who seems to be grumbling something close to the words “ducking shooshes”.  

You never thought you'd end up babysitting Dieter Bravo but, you guess, things could be weirder. 

"Can I just...ask...um...why does a grown man need a babysitter?"

Dieter rolls his eyes and cuts in, "I don't." 

Amanda talks over him, "I'm sure you've seen the...incidents...on the Cliff Beasts set." 

You nod. "Absolutely, who hasn't? A drug overdose, quickie marriage, annulment - all within the span of a year. And the giant bender in Vegas with the showgirl last month? It's been all over the news." 

Amanda nods, tension lining her face. Behind her, Dieter rolls his eyes again. 

"It wasn't that bad." 

Amanda finally graces Dieter with an irritated glance. Her voice raises slightly, “Not that bad, Dee?? You almost destroyed the MGM Grand’s lobby, casino, and the penthouse suite you were staying in! That showgirl almost lost an eye!” 

Dieter rolls his neck back to face the ceiling, “Yeah, but she didn’t. She was fun,” he chuckles. “Liked to party. We still got her number?”

You see a vein throb in Amanda’s forehead. You’re not quite sure if you should butt into their conversation. Amanda grips the planner she holds so tightly, her knuckles begin to turn white. 

“No, Dee. We don’t have her number. You know, since she ALMOST LOST AN EYE??” 

Dieter sighs. “Oh my god, she was fine. It was safe. I was totally able to handle that machete. That lobby guy was just scared.” 

You raise an eyebrow. 

Amanda fires back, “He was the manager!!! And you were swinging a machete at one of his showgirls!” 

“I wasn’t gonna hurt her, god it’s like you think I’m irresponsible or something.” 

Oh god what have you gotten yourself into???

You reach down and attempt to subtly get your belongings. You’ve decided you want no part in…whatever this is. To your utter disappointment, you’re apparently not subtle enough. Amanda’s eyes dart to where your hand is resting on the strap of your bag. Her eyes widen just a fraction in desperation. 

“I know we’re not giving the best impression here. But I promise, this is going to be a very rewarding experience. Dieter is special!” 

She had said that on the phone too, but it was your fault you had misinterpreted it. Dieter clearly is special just…not in the way you were expecting. He’s special in a super-fuckin-entitled-wealthy way. 

You swallow and your eyes dart to Dieter, who hasn’t looked at you once since this whole meet and greet started. 

“Listen, Amanda, I’m really flattered that you and your…” You peter off, realizing the entire group of people behind her are now listening to you basically say no to this insane job. Are they really surprised you’re not interested in this? 

You clear your throat and continue, “team…want me to do this. I just don’t quite think I’m what you’re looking for.” 

Amanda looks behind her at a gentleman in a neatly pressed suit. He leans forward and whispers something in her ear. She nods, and turns back to you. Dieter remains absorbed in the ceiling. 

“Alright,” Amanda starts, “how about I show you what your pay would look like and we’ll take it from there? Maybe we could do a trial run if the amount is to your liking?” 

Dieter snorts. “It’ll be to her liking, I’m loaded.” 

Amanda rolls her eyes. Despite that, she keeps her focus on you. “Well?” She asks. 

You sigh. You know you’re caught between a rock and hard place. Money? Or no money? Well, even if this job isn’t what you necessarily thought it would be, it couldn’t hurt to look at the amount. Why the hell not? 

You shrug. “Sure,” you reply back to Amanda. “I guess looking at the number can’t hurt.” 

She smiles and nods, turning to confer with the gentleman behind her again. They whisper to each other for a few minutes before Amanda turns back to you. 

“Okay! I just want to clarify that we’ll be starting with a trial run of a week. If just you, or both you and Dieter-” 

He snorts at his name. Amanda studiously ignores him and continues on. 

“Are interested in keeping this arrangement going, we’ll re-discuss and go from there. Is that amenable to you?”

You nod. “Sounds good to me.” 

Amanda smiles widely, looking truly relieved for the first time since you stepped into the room. 

“Great!” She replies. She reaches behind her to grab a small piece of paper from the suited gentleman (who is he???) and hands it over to you. You surreptitiously glance over at Dieter. For the first time, you find his eyes on you. You shiver slightly. His eyes sparkle with…something. 

You look back down at the folded piece of paper in your hands. You’re more nervous than you thought you’d be. You open it slightly and see the number written down.

WOW that’s a LOT of zeroes! Holy crap. 

You look at Amanda.

“Trial run it is.” 

P.S. Banners by @firefly-graphics

Tags:

@grampsgirl14

@apsiringghostmusicians

Anyone else want a tag? Lemme know!

[necroromantics]

🧺 — Laundry And Taxes

chapter 11. // christmas special // (masterlist)

AN: Helloo to all the readers of L&T, happy holidays to everyone and Merry Christmas for anyone who celebrates :] Heres my present to you 🔥

Standing on the station platform, tickets to Alabama in their hands, Natalie looked out at the approaching train. She leaned over to the boy waiting patiently next to her, and told him that she had never been on one before.

“Seems like we experience a lot of firsts together,” Toby grinned as Natalie punched his arm.

The girl sat on the window seat, resting her head in the palm of her hand as she looked out at the passing scenery. Toby laid back in his seat and closed his eyes, everything was in motion. The white winter landscape was complemented by tall, passing evergreen trees. Natalie watched the unspoiled morning skies mingle with the fluffs of clouds, and listened closely to the pleasant chatter of the two passengers seated behind her. By the sounds of it, they had only just met on that train, and were both headed south to see family. She glanced over at the boy resting quietly beside her and thought to herself how strange it is to meet someone you must’ve known lifetimes before.

The pair held fire in their eyes and their bags over their shoulders as they hurried down the streets sprawled with snow. Once they approached their destination of a tiny house decorated with an abundance of Christmas lights, Toby knocked heavily onto the front door. After waiting for a minute, the door creaked open, a familiar tall, blonde man wearing a Santa hat stood with a toothy grin on his face, welcoming the two inside. Brian gave Toby a hearty pat on the back as he led the boy to the living room, Natalie following silently close behind.

“Good to see you’re not in handcuffs yet, man.” Brian said

“Yeah, good to see you’re still growing out that awful mustache,” Toby teased back. In the living room, Tim sat in his recliner chair with an afternoon beer in his hand. He was sporting a red Christmas sweater that presented the words “Merry Christmas Ya Filthy Animal”. Beside him, there was a small Christmas tree perched atop the coffee table. Toby snickered to himself at the sight as he walked over and played with the plastic pine needles.

“Damn Tim, you really went all out this year huh.”

“Cut the shit,” Tim said, swatting the boy away.

Brian sat himself down onto the couch and grabbed the remote, turning on the television to whatever sports channel was on, letting it play quietly in the background. Taking a seat beside Brian, Toby looked over to Natalie who had been awkwardly lingering in the entrance, her arms crossed over her chest, her body pressed to the wall. The girl glanced over the room of men and furrowed her brow. She never liked proxies. Toby stared at the disinterested girl for a moment, watching her quietly reside in her own little world, before Brian spoke, catching the boy's attention.

“So you’re living in North Dakota now? How’s the weather up there treating you?”

“Uh, yeah, it’s alright. I’m used to all the snow from back home in Colorado, so it’s not too bad.”

As the two men continued to exchange their small talk, filling in the silence that hung over the room, Tim took another sip of his beer.

“You still hellbent on getting back to the old world?” Tim chimed in, causing Toby to look over with an irritated glare.

“So what if I am? Whats it matter to you?”

“Just wondering,” Tim lifted his bottle to his lips once again as he turned his head to look over at the football game. There was a long pause of tense silence for a moment, Toby’s gaze still directed at the man in a trained glare.

“Better to just leave all that shit behind anyways, right?” Brian said, leaning over to Toby to recenter the boy's attention over to their friendly conversation.

“Sure,” Toby muttered, looking down towards his feet for a moment, “What’re you up to now anyways?”

“Just working, trying to save enough up to get back to school, you know?” Brian groaned as he threw his hands back, stretching the tension out of his tired body.

“Yeah? Where do you work?”

“If I tell you that, I’m gonna have to kill you,” The man teased with a grin, to which Toby rolled his eyes in playful annoyance. Natalie watched from a distance as the men caught up with each other's lives, as if there had been no brutality between them. She watched as Toby joked with his colleagues; ones who had beaten him bloody many times before. She watched as Toby’s hands reached for the remote to switch on a channel that played Christmas music; hands that have killed countless people. She watched as Tim eased himself into the casual chatter, throwing in a sarcastic comment or two, bickering with the boy sitting across from him. They were a lively bunch, and as Natalie leaned back against the wall, her indifferent expression subtly hinting disdain, she wondered what gave them the right to act as if nothing had happened. The girl was no saint, and she knew this to be true, she was cruel and vicious, a killer, but she would never find herself sitting amongst men like these, pretending as if blood didn’t drip from her mouth from all the throats she had ripped out. They were rotten and vile, and it seemed her best friend was the worst of the worst.

A soft knock to the front door put a quick stop to the conversation, and Brian walked over to the entrance, past the girl who hadn’t said a word since she arrived. Toby’s head peered up, listening closely to the sound of Brian inviting somebody in. He wasn’t told of anyone else joining them that Christmas evening. As the stranger entered the living room, both Natalie and Toby’s eyes widened. The familiar man held his hands in the pockets of his dark gray sweater, his dark eyes glancing around at the three lounging around the room. Jack smiled awkwardly at Natalie as she shamelessly stared at his newly human appearance, her gaze meeting his. Toby, on the other hand, had been staring out of discomfort. The last conversation he had with Jack had been a fight months ago back in Mississippi. He knew Jack was never one to hold a grudge, yet the boy couldn’t help but feel a weird sense of unease when the man sat down next to him.

“Good to see you again.” Jack smiled.

“Yeah.”

Brian entered back into the room with a case of beer, breaking through the stiff atmosphere, and sitting on the couch next to the two others. He pulled out a bottle and handed it over to Tim, who had already drunk through his previous one, and then handed another to Jack, who shook his head.

“I’m not drinking tonight,” he declined.

“Suit yourself,” Brian exclaimed, popping off the cap and taking a sip. The four men talked amongst themselves as Natalie listened in, drumming her fingers along to the beat of the holiday tunes quietly playing from the TV. She couldn’t help but glance over at the clock, counting down the minutes until she could be free from that dreadful place. When she initially agreed to come to Alabama with Toby, she hadn’t considered how out of place she would feel. Tim never liked her much, Brian and her never really talked. They had both deemed her a weak point for Toby back in the old world — something in the way. There was always the expectation that she would turn on him, sell him out, be his downfall. And in a way, it was true. Whenever Brian snuck a glance over at the lingering girl, he noticed she would always be looking at Toby.

Once the clock had struck 5pm, Tim pulled himself out of his seat, tapping Jack to follow him into the kitchen.

“You too, Toby. I ain’t preparing dinner all by myself.” Toby groaned as he stood up, shuffling irritatedly behind the two men. As he passed by Natalie, he nudged into her with a sore smile, to which she playfully hit him back. The two would laugh at nonsense together as though it made perfect sense, bumped into each other as though it was an embrace. There was an awkward tenderness between the youths who had never been loved, and had to figure something out. Natalie had the tendency to lie through her gritted teeth. Not intentionally by any means, but she deluded herself for so long, so desperately, she was nearly a master at the art of self-deception. Brian had noticed this feat, and on that lively Christmas evening, begun to pester the girl.

“There’s plenty of seats, you don’t need to keep standing around you know,” he called out to the girl who only raised an eyebrow at him. He nodded his head towards the empty chair across from him, and Natalie huffed with annoyance at the bothersome man as she strolled over to take her seat. Brian sat with his bottle in his hands, the sound of bickering coming from the kitchen filled the open air.

“You and Toby live together now, huh?”

“I guess,” Natalie said with a stern look, crossing her arms as she leaned back into her chair, staring at Brian as if she were in an interrogation. The man only smiled back at her, his Santa hat draped over his head.

“Good to hear he’s found someone who tolerates his bullshit,” Brian said as he reached into his case of booze, “Want a beer?”

Natalie shrugged her shoulders in agreement as the man pulled out a bottle.

“Just remember, you can’t save that kid.”

“Great. I never wanted to. I wouldn’t know how to anyways.”

“So, do you love him?”

“What’s it matter to you?” she glared at the man.

“You got a fire between you two,” Brian continued to tease as he handed the drink over to the girl, who snatched it from his hand.

“Then I guess I should ask Santa for an extinguisher this Christmas.”

The man grinned at the witty reply, chuckling to himself as he glanced over towards the boy angrily storming into the living room, ranting to himself. Toby huffed as he collapsed into the couch beside Brian, sinking into himself.

“Toby, get your ass back in here,” Tim shouted out from the kitchen.

“Go fuck yourself,” the boy shouted back. Brian grimaced awkwardly as he took his leave, taking one last look at the girl who had once again been staring at Toby, before making his way into the kitchen to help with dinner.

Once Brian was out of the room, Natalie switched over to sit herself down beside Toby. She nudged her shoulder into him as the boy looked back at her.

“Stop being so cranky Toby, it’s Christmas.” The girl spoke as her eyes met with the boys who stared back at her. Toby let out a deep sigh and leaned into the girls side. He was warm, she was cold. The smell of the turkey and stuffing breezed past the two as Brian waltzed into the room once again, this time to alert them that dinner was ready, and to come get their plates.

The group, with food piled onto their plates, sat together as they made up for all of the lost time. On that drunken Christmas night, with loud chatter and laughter filling the fireplace warmed air, everything was fine. Bloodshed was past, sickness had wilted away. As five human beings sat victorious in that livingroom, ridden with battle of another world, their festive cheer only confirmed the triumph of man. The war was over, and they had earned their evening.

Toby sipped his booze as he watched Tim stumble over to his seat, sharing a tale of a time he had lied his way out of a speeding ticket.

“You’re a great actor, you should star in a film,” Brian teased with a grin.

“I will strangle you,” Tim threatened.

Natalie felt a hand shift over onto her own, and glanced down to see Toby’s fingers interlocking with hers mindlessly. She thought well of him. Even when he drank, she thought he was a good boy. The girl squeezed his hand back, and drifted away from the jokes and festivities to lose herself in her thoughts. He had already made plans to head back to Colorado to spend Christmas morning with his family, leaving Natalie to catch the midnight train back up north.

Once the late night tiredness had washed over the group, Toby found himself arguing with Tim, who alongside Brian, had too many drinks to drive the boy to his destination.

“How am I supposed to wait until morning? You agreed you’d drive me tonight.”

“I could drive, I haven’t been drinking.” Jack spoke out, stepping between the argument. Toby looked over at the man with his offer, and scrunched his brow with reluctance, before ultimately giving in and agreeing to the new arraignment.

Toby stood at the door with his backpack over his shoulder, saying his goodbyes to the drunken Brian and Tim as he waited for Jack to gather his things. Natalie hung around by the boy's side without a word as she waited for him to finish chatting with his colleagues. As Jack slipped on his shoes, and opened the door to head for the car, Natalie threw in a quick goodbye to her friend, and snuck away back into the livingroom as she waited for her train back home, which was going to arrive in two hours.

Tim and Brian chatted with each other as they sobered up, and cleaned the dishes in the kitchen, leaving Natalie alone in the other room after Toby and Jack had left. She leaned back into her chair as she stared mindlessly at the fireplace, watching the flames dance and flicker. In her dreams, her house is always on fire. She couldn’t bring herself to let go of the violence, even as it burnt holes into her. The dead girl with nothing to lose, the horrible girl who can’t escape. A loud ringing from her cellphone snapped the girl out of her daze, bringing her attention to the number presenting itself onto the screen as she flipped it open. It wasn’t one she recognized, but as she hesitantly answered the call, she knew the voice on the other end well.

“Merry Christmas, Natalie.” The woman spoke roughly. She sounded tired, a bit irritated.

“Mom?”

“Just thought I’d call and wish you a good Christmas. But if you don’t want to talk to me, just say so,” The woman snapped. Natalie’s heart began to beat like a snare drum in her chest. She hadn’t heard her mothers voice in years, it made her sick to her stomach.

“Why would you bother calling me?” The girl asked quietly, and harshly.

“I guess it’s a crime now to want to talk to you since you left home. You know damn well you’re all I have left, so show some respect to your mother.”

Natalie scoffed. It seemed she hadn’t changed one bit.

“Sure, whatever, Merry fuckin’ Christmas.” She slammed her flipphone shut as she ended the call abruptly, squeezing her eyes shut as she felt a flurry of rage and shock. The walls felt like they were closing in on her, suffocating, choking her. Natalie quickly stood to her feet as she rushed out the front door to get some fresh air.

The outside was quiet as she sat herself on the front door step. It was late into the night, and everything was still. Natalie blinked back the sting of tears rising to her eyes as she took a deep breath in of the frost and mildew. She knew something bad had happened, she tried her best not to think about it. The Christmas lights hanging off of the edge of the rooftop reflected off of the white ground, sparkling. Suddenly, it began to snow. The girl watched as the snowflakes danced gently down through the night sky, landing on the streets and in her hair. Natalie felt warmth fall down her icy cheeks as she surrendered to her tears, quietly sobbing to herself as she looked out into the dark. Despite everything, the world was still so beautiful.

Toby stared quietly out from the passenger seat window, watching the snow as it fell. Jack remained silent as he drove down the highways of Alabama, keeping his eyes straight and his hands firm on the steering wheel. The boy sniffled to himself once in a while, coming down off of his evening buzz. He had always hoped for a mother, a father, something bigger than himself to tell him who to become. But as he stared out of the window into the dark abyss of the night, wartorn and battered, the world seemed so empty.

A few miles into the drive, Jack pulled the truck into a gas station parking lot, announcing that he was grabbing himself a cup of coffee, and that Toby should take a bathroom break before they continued with their long drive to Colorado. The bell jingled throughout the store which was nearly completely empty as the two men entered, Jack heading towards the coffee machine, and Toby to the toilets. The boy pushed past the door and quickly noticed all of the vandalism scribbled onto the walls, like a page from a book had been torn apart and plastered everywhere. His hand ran across some printing on a bathroom stall and read over a confession of sorts a passerby had left in a place they must’ve known they’d never return to. He read the admissions of guilt spread across the room, as if God had been listening. Memories of the old world rushed into his mind like the Great Flood, and he thought about all of the times he would wake up in places like these, thrashed and wrecked, with no recollection of what had happened, or the times he’d find himself leaning over the dirty sinks coughing up blood. His lungs must’ve been rotting. He never knew of anything that didn’t hurt.

Toby spent no more time in that bathroom as he rinsed his hands and quickly left back outside to the truck. Jack quietly placed his coffee into the cup holder next to him and continued to drive down the dark highway, into the night. The silence remained still between the two men, only the occasional car passed by them. Toby tapped his fingers against his knee as he thought to himself.

“You’re living in Alabama now?” He awkwardly asked, avoiding eye contact as Jack glanced over to the boy.

“Yeah, I am. I moved there mid-November. I thought it’d be easier for me if I was around people I knew. Like dipping my toe in the water,” Jack explained. He had turned away from his college room with his head down, running to Latin texts in the depths of an isolated forest. Jack started to find himself seeing the dead through the midst of the maple and oak trees which dangled hanged men from its branches. It seemed that he had no choice but to face what he had done, and find himself in the bustling streets of humanity once again. He wrote letters to his mother explaining a false reasoning for why he had left his education. He wrote them praying. Every letter he received back he collected as punishment for the sins he had committed. Jack kept them in a box under his bed.

“And you? Has North Dakota been keeping you busy?”

“Oh yeah, definitely,” Toby replied, fiddling with his thumbs as he kept his gaze down to his feet, “I actually started a small lumbering business for myself. Chopping wood and stuff.”

“That’s great to hear. Good for you,” Jack smiled.

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Of course.”

“I mean, thanks for helping me out. Always putting up with my bullshit,” Toby eyed his shoes, he didn’t want to see the satisfied look on Jack’s face. He didn’t want to think about how smug he must’ve been after hearing those words fall from the troubled boy's mouth.

“You’re not as difficult as you think you are, Toby. I’m not the only one who puts up with you.”

Toby looked over at the man driving, and shook his head. He remained untended to, like an overgrown tombstone, sick with decay. It was as if, from the moment he was born, that boy had never needed anybody else. He never asked for help, or reached out for support.

“I’m on my own. Always have been.”

“What about Natalie?”

“What about her?”

“She’s always been by your side, hasn’t she?”

The boy stayed silent for a moment. Toby didn’t know how to tell Jack that she, too, had left him to dig his own grave many times. She, too, loathed him. It didn’t matter, he thought, he didn’t need her, or anyone, anyways.

“Everyone who tries to stomach me eventually chokes me back up, Jack. Nat isn’t an exception.” There was a childlike loneliness in Toby’s voice as he spoke. One that made Jack quickly come to the unfortunate understanding that Toby wasn’t a soldier, or a war hero, he was just a boy. And the burden of always being the one who grits his teeth and fights an old man's battle must be far too heavy for a boy to carry.

“Does that bother you?” Jack asked. Toby shrugged his tired shoulders.

“After you’ve done and seen all the shit I have, nothing really bothers you anymore.”

Jack looked over at the other once more, a golden boy made to conquer, his eyes were desensitized and dark. Toby was entirely indifferent to himself and the world around him. He knew nothing of the time that had passed him, only that somewhere, at some point, there was a war being fought, and he was now far from the battlefield. That boy had long since lost his innocence, and his homesickness lasted forever.

“Do you actually feel bad for the things you’ve done?” Toby spoke again.

“You know, Toby, my guilt doesn’t mean anything. Apologizing while I killed someone doesn’t make me any different than someone who didn’t. I still took somebody’s life, I still sinned.”

“When I killed my dad…” Toby’s voice trailed off for a moment, “It was the happiest I had ever been, like all of those years of fear finally amounted to something. And I would do it again in a heartbeat. I'd rather have all of that suffering make me into a monster than for it to be for nothing at all."

“You don’t think you had any other choice?”

“It had to be done. Sometimes things just have to be done.”

“I understand,” Jack replied softly as he continued to drive.

“Hopefully God understands,” Toby said quietly to himself, turning his head to look out of the window once again. He tried to describe something unfathomable. Fate, the God neither of them believed in, whatever explained it.

"I guess just knowing that somewhere, my dad is still out there... I can't help but miss him. And I don't know why." The boy confessed, staring up at the stars in the night sky as they shined down brightly on the two men. There was a sense of knowing that he would be carrying that rage with him until he died.

“Do you love your father?”

“No, I hate him more than anything. If you met him you’d understand. Why else do you think I do the things I do?” Toby sat up straight in his seat, chuckling sorrowfully to himself, “I became the exact thing I was so fucking scared of growing up. And nothings going to fuck with me ever again.”

“You’ve suffered enough, Toby. I know you have a lot to carry, you did what you had to do to survive, I get it, but you can put it all down and still be safe.”

“I know that, I’m not stupid. I know I’ll have to listen to everyone someday and just let all of this anger go. But it’s like it clings to me like some scared little kid and begs me not to. And I’m not going to betray myself like that.”

“It takes some time, but there’s always the option to make peace with the past whenever you’re ready. You just need to stop looking in the wrong places for redemption,” Jack said.

“Yeah you’re right, time for me to become Mr. Goody Good,” Toby joked back.

“It really is that simple, you know. One day, wake up and decide to be kinder to yourself, and maybe others. You have been through too much to treat yourself so badly.”

The boy stayed silent, the quiet ambience of the drive filled the air. Toby hadn’t realized that he had been doing nothing but torturing himself the entire time. He didn’t know how to treat himself with anything but violence.

“I’m proud of you, Toby.”

The words Jack spoke drilled holes into the boy's burning chest. Toby looked over at the man who was staring ahead, keeping his eyes on the road, before turning his gaze back down to his hands. He had to do the impossible when he left it all behind, but he was alive, and that was his start. The boy was given no other choice, he needed to make his way in that world, it was just another thing that had to be done. He had always assumed that everybody around him looked at him through his fathers eyes, full of hatred and disgust. Toby assumed that his bitterness had left him intolerable, and it had never occurred to him that there would ever be people in his life who would tolerate him anyways. The praise of his violence in the past was replaced with a soft ‘I love you regardless’ when Toby bared his teeth. He then thought to himself how awful it was that his happiness hurt too.

Soon, the sun began to rise over the western landscape and Jack pulled up to Toby’s mothers house. They sat silently for a moment in the truck before Toby spoke.

“Thanks for everything, Jack. You’re a good guy.”

“You too, Toby.”

The boy dragged his tired body to the front step of his childhood home and waved as Jack drove off back to Alabama. It was late into the day, and Toby hadn’t told his mother he was coming over for Christmas. He thought for a moment about all of the time he had spent fighting against the world, and he had slowly come to the understanding that soldiers either die, or they return home from the war. As his luck would have it, on that snowy Christmas afternoon, it seemed he had made it out of the combat zone alive, regardless of what he had done. And now, it was his job to find peace for himself despite it all.

When he entered through the front door with a spare key his mother had given him, he glanced over the empty house, a tall Christmas tree standing in the livingroom. Toby called out for his mom, and sister, only to find that nobody was home. He turned around to look at the driveway, and noticed both of their cars were still there. Closing the door behind him, a sense of dread building, the boy quietly made his way through the house, cautiously examining every room. In his mothers room, he noticed a suitcase on the floor which had been half-packed. Toby bent down to look through the items packed away, before jerking his head up as he heard the sound of the front door opening.

Toby slowly, and silently, walked towards the entrance of the house, lifting his hands up as he prepared himself for a fight. A loud scream filled the house as Lyra jumped at the sight of the intruding boy, putting her hand over her chest as she realized who it was.

“Jesus, Toby! What's wrong with you!” She yelled as Connie quickly rushed in after her screaming daughter, only to relax as she saw her son awkwardly apologizing.

Connie rushed up to Toby, hugging him tightly and laying a kiss on his cheek. Lyra rolled her eyes and shook off the lingering adrenaline, walking up to give her little brother a hug as well. His mother explained that they had planned a surprise trip to North Dakota to visit him, but he had gotten to them first.

“We were down the street visiting Mr. Mulner and his wife. You remember Caroline. She had a fall a couple of weeks ago. Everyone in the neighborhood has been bringing them giftsfor Christmas," Connie explained to the boy the exciting happenings in her life as Lyra rinsed off an empty cookie tray in the kitchen sink.

“Wow, spreading Christmas cheer. How’d you get Grinch over there to come with you?” Toby teased, nodding his head over to his sister who only rolled her eyes.

“So, are you going to be leaving again?” Connie asked with concern in her eyes. She could never keep tabs on him anymore.

“Yeah, eventually. I’ve been living up North with that girl I was telling you about and-”

“You’re living with a girl?” Lyra interrupted with shock, having been listening from the kitchen.

“Shut up Lyra, don’t act surprised,” Toby argued back.

“Don’t fight on Christmas you two,” their mother scolded with a sigh as she rubbed the bridge of her nose.

Toby spent the day with his family, helping his mother cook dinner, and listening to Lyra’s latest gossip. The sun seemed to set as quickly as it rose, and the evening draped its darkness over the sky once more. After dinner, Connie went to bed early, and Toby sat in the livingroom with Lyra as they bickered over which Christmas movie to watch.

“Die Hard isn’t a Christmas movie you dork,” she said.

“Fuck you, Die Hard is absolutely a Christmas movie.”

The warm glow of the lights that wrapped around the Christmas tree illuminated the livingroom as Lyra groaned and turned on Die Hard. Toby thought about all of the things he had talked about with Jack, and wondered if Natalie had gotten home safely yet. He thought about how strange that the place he thought of to be his home was no longer the place he sat in, but instead a small, old farmhouse in North Dakota. So many things had changed in such a short amount of time, and for once, as he sat by his sister under the roof he grew up in, he felt as if he could make something more for himself. For once, he felt a sort of happiness that didn’t hurt.

“Merry Christmas Toby,” Lyra whispered over to her brother, reeling him back in from his thoughts as he looked at her with a smile.

“Merry Christmas.”

[sycamorelibrary754]

A Christmas Carol

Summary: You are visited by the spirits of three of your loved ones on Christmas Eve. 

Genre: Family dynamic, Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending.

Pairings: Reader x Tony Stark, Reader x Natasha Romanoff, Reader x Vision, Reader x The Avengers (all platonic) 

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: Mentions of past trauma, grief, and death.

A/N: This fic is based on the plot of A Christmas Carol and takes place yesterday and today in the MCU canon! Flashbacks are in italics. I really enjoyed writing this and I hope you enjoy it as well. Merry Christmas! 

Every night was a futile tussle of conflicting thoughts. If you sleep, you can forget. If you forget, you feel the pain of losing them all over again in the morning. It was a tragic loop of grief that you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy.

The Battle for Earth had sent you into a spiral of despair and darkness. How could it not? You lost your father, the woman who had become a second mother to you, and one of your best friends. It had only been two months, but those closest to you were doing their best to try and keep you afloat. 

As autumn turned into winter, you receded even more into yourself. The holiday season only served as a reminder of all that you had lost. Before you knew it, Christmas Eve was upon you and a knock on your door broke you out of your grief-stricken thoughts.

“Y/N?” 

You grunted in response, as Pepper slowly opened the door. A stream of morning light breaks through your dark room.

“I’m taking Morgan ice skating, I know she would love it if you came with us.” 

“No, thanks.”

Pepper sighed as she took a seat next to you on the edge of your bed. 

“Oh sweetheart,” her voice cracking. “Your dad wouldn’t want to see you like this.”

“That’s just it,” staring at the same spot on the wall across from your bed that you had been looking at for the better part of two months. “He’s not here to see it. Dad is gone, and he’s never coming back.”

“No, he’s not, and nothing I can say is going to bring him back. I know nothing will ever fill that hole in our hearts, but life doesn’t end for us,” emotion creeping up on her. “All we can do is keep his memory alive. Live life with the same curiosity and love that he did. 

You remembered the day you walked into Stark Tower for the first time. You were six, and your mother had passed away unexpectedly. She rarely ever spoke of your father, only to say that he was very smart. You were frightened, to say the least when your mother’s attorney picked you up from Child Protective Services. It had always just been you and your mom.

What felt like an endless car ride ended with you standing in front of the most intimidating building you had ever seen in your little life. You walked into a large office with full-length windows at the opposite end that overlooked New York City. A blonde woman in a skirt and matching suit sat behind the desk, while a dark-haired man with a goatee in a t-shirt and jeans stood beside her looking very nervous. 

The CPO officer greeted the two, and then there was some brief legal jargon your six-year-old mind didn’t understand. 

The officer leaned down to your level, “Y/N, this is Tony. Your dad.”

Tony just stared at you wide-eyed until Pepper smacked him on the arm. 

“Hi kid,” snapping out of his trance and smiling at you. 

“Hi,” you said shyly.

Your dad never stopped calling you kid, even when you grew up and started fighting alongside him as an Avenger. Tony was so proud of you after your first mission. He celebrated for 24 hours straight, recounting every move you made to anyone who would listen. 

But now there were no more celebrations. No more, “hey kid”, and no more late-night talks with your dad in his lab eating pizza. It all ended the moment your father snapped his fingers. Saving your life, but sacrificing his own. He was your hero, and you would miss him forever. 

You threw yourself into Pepper’s arms. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to come ice skating? Get out for a little bit,” rubbing her hand up and down on your back. 

“No, you two go have fun,” you sighed.

“Okay, we’ll be back in a bit, please try and eat something,” rising from the bed and walking towards the door. She looked back at you one last time.

You pulled the covers back over your head and prayed for unconsciousness.

*^~^*

Your phone rang an hour later. You reached your hand out from under your blanket feeling around for the rectangle. You pulled it back into your cocoon and your eyes adjusted to the light emanating from your phone. It was Yelena. You slid your finger across the screen.

“Hello?”

“Why are you not ice skating with Pepper and the little Stark?”

“Because Christmas activities are for happy people, and I don’t even know what happy is anymore,” you admitted candidly. 

“I see.”

You heard shuffling on the other end of the line before a knock on your door broke through your blanket barrier. You ignored it. 

“What are you doing?”

“Well, I’m trying to get a friend to have a drink with me, but she won’t answer the damn door.”

“FRIDAY, open the door,” you grumbled as you lifted the blanket off of your head.

Yelena stood in the doorway holding a bottle of Vodka. 

“I’m not in the mood, Lena.”

“I don’t care, my sister is gone and we’re having a drink,” throwing the blankets off of you. 

You shivered as the air hit your body. Yelena sat down on the floor with her back up against your bed. You slid out of bed and onto the floor. The blonde took in the dark circles under your eyes and the thinness of your face. She knew you barely slept or ate these days. Her room was across from yours. Truthfully, she hadn’t been sleeping or eating well either, but she was better at hiding it. Yelena poured you both a shot of vodka. You took the shot in one fluid motion. It burned all the way down. 

You could almost hear Natasha’s raspy voice. 

“What happened dorogoy?” Running toward you as you stumbled off the Quinjet. 

You had just come home from a solo mission. A week alone in the field, limited contact. Natasha spotted the blood on your suit but relaxed when she realized it wasn’t yours. 

“I couldn’t save them all, Nat,” tears welling up in your eyes. “I wasn’t fast enough.” 

You started to sway as you grew weak with exhaustion. Natasha embraced you and didn’t let go. Public displays of affection were not her thing, but when it came to you normal rules never applied. She led you inside and straight to her room. She cleaned you up and poured you a shot of vodka. You weren’t much for hard liquor, but you needed it today.

“One fluid motion,” handing it to you.

You drank the shot and slammed the glass down on the floor. It burned all the way down.

From the moment you came to live with Tony, the Black Widow had a soft spot for you. You reminded her of herself a bit. A young girl who was thrown into a new and frightening reality after the only life you had ever known was tragically torn from you. 

Truthfully, there wasn’t anything Natasha wouldn’t do for you. Of course, no one could replace your mom, but Nat had become like a second mother to you. helping you with your homework, staying up late when you came home from your first date, teaching you to defend yourself when you told her you wanted to join the team. 

When it was decided that the Time Heist was your only chance of beating Thanos, your father forbade you from going. 

“No, Y/N! No way. I’m already going out of my mind at the thought of losing Pepper and your sister. I won’t lose you too,” Tony argued.

“I should be there, Dad! I’m a part of this team too. You need me,” you yelled. 

“No,” he said firmly. “I need you to survive,” looking you in the eyes before turning and leaving your room. 

You turned away in anger before picking up a pillow and throwing it toward the doorway. Natasha caught it without a flinch. 

“I know how you feel, Y/N.”

“No, you don’t, you’re going to Vormir!”

“You feel like you’re being sidelined because your dad thinks he can do this without you, but that’s just it, honey,” walking toward you, “He can’t do THIS without you,” holding her arms open wide. “This life. He would never forgive himself if something happened to you… and neither would I,” tears in the redhead’s eyes.

You embraced Natasha as your tears started to fall. “I love you, Nat.” You didn’t want to let her go, but you knew it was time.

“I love you, dorogoy. See you in a minute.”

Yelena’s shot glass hitting the floor snapped you out of your flashback. 

“How long are you going to stay in this room?”

“It doesn’t matter,” your eyes trained downward. 

“She wouldn’t want that for you,” tilting her head to try and meet your gaze, receiving only silence in return. 

“How are you doing it? How are you living?” barely above a whisper. “You had so little time with her,” finally looking up at Yelena.

She sighed deeply. “One day at a time.”

“I feel like I’ve lost another mom,” you cried.

“I know,” Yelena hugged you as her tears began to fall too. 

“You want to go for a walk with me? We can throw snowballs at the LARPers,” trying to regain her composure. 

“No thanks, Yelena.”

“I understand,” the blonde nodded, as she grabbed the bottle of vodka and walked toward your door. “My sister loved you, Y/N. Don’t let the way she died change the way you live.”

*^~^*

After Yelena left, you climbed back in bed. Content to spend the rest of Christmas Eve in the darkness of your grief. You dozed off again and when you awoke this time it was to the faint sound of Christmas music playing down the hall. You couldn’t understand how anyone could celebrate Christmas this year. Not without all of them.

A soft knock on the door preceded a voice you knew and loved.

“Y/N, it’s Wanda. Can I come in?” 

 You made something of a squeaking noise which Wanda took as a yes. The door opened slowly and the redhead poked her head inside. Her eyes wandered the room before spotting the lump in the middle of your bed. Clothes scattered across the floor and your uneaten food on the side table. She couldn’t stand to see you in this squalor. A simple wave of her hand vanished the clutter from your room. 

“Your thoughts are so loud, sweetheart.” 

“Sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry. Truthfully everyone’s thoughts are pretty loud tonight.” 

“Everyone?” 

“We’re having a little Christmas Eve gathering in the common area. No one’s in the mood, but Pepper and I agreed it was important for the kids to have some semblance of a normal Christmas. As best as we could give them, anyway… Please come watch the kids open a Christmas Eve gift. Billy and Tommy have been asking for you,” Wanda implored. 

“I can’t go out there, Wanda. I can’t look at the kids without crying,” your words muffled by the pillow. 

“Welcome to my world,” Wanda muttered. 

You lowered the blankets and were met with Wanda’s green eyes. Emeralds that cut through you with ease. The same bags that graced your under eyes had found a home under hers as well.

“What is grief, if not love persevering?" Wanda said softly. 

“Get that from a Hallmark card did you?” Rolling your eyes.

“No,” her eyes dropped to her lap. “Vis said that to me.”

“Oh, Wanda. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s okay,” caressing your cheek. “I know you’re hurting too.”

“He was my best friend.” 

You sat quietly in the compound library as the sun warmed your face. You came up here now and again for some much-needed alone time. Your eyes chasing the words across the pages of Little Women, your favorite book. 

The door opened, interrupting Jo’s conversation with Laurie. 

“Oh, excuse me, Ms. Stark. I didn’t realize anyone was in here.”

“No, Vis. That’s okay, come on in.”

“Why, thank you. You’re too kind,” shutting the door behind him. 

“What brings you to the only quiet corner of the compound?”

“I’ve come to read my daily book,” Vis stated matter-of-factly.

“You read a book every day?” Surprised by the admission. 

“Yes, it only takes me a few moments, but I’ve made it a goal to read every book in this library.” 

“The Mind Stone is in your forehead, aren’t you already omnipotent?” you giggled.

Yes, but I’ve found humans equal parts fascinating and odd. They think order and chaos are somehow opposites and try to control what won't be. But there is grace in their failings and elegance in their knowledge. Better still, they have taken to writing it all down,” holding up a book in excitement. “What better way to understand them than to read the words they have left behind.”

“You have a beautiful soul, Vision.” 

He smirked. “I’m a synthezoid, Ms. Stark. I was not blessed with a soul.” 

“Not to my eyes.”

“I remember that day,” Wanda smiled, wiping a tear from her eye as she left your thoughts. “Vis floated through my wall rambling on about how you were going to introduce him to your favorite writers, and trade books.”

You nodded silently, afraid if you said anything else that you would break down. 

“I can’t imagine how you feel Wanda. You’ve lost so much already,” unable to look at the witch.

“I should know enough about loss to realize that you never really stop missing someone – you just learn to live around the huge gaping hole of their absence,” staring at the same spot in the wall that you were. 

“I’ll tell the boys you aren’t feeling well,” snapping out of it. 

The guilt wracking your mind as Wanda walked away. 

“I love you, Y/N. Vision did too,” gently closing her door behind you. 

*^~^*

It wasn’t long before the distant melody of Christmas music faded away and silence greeted you once more. You prayed for a restful sleep. One that would carry you through the next twenty-four hours so that you could forget Christmas and all that you were grieving. 

Darkness fell upon your mind slowly but surely. As your clock struck 1 am, a breeze broke through the crack in your window. Small and cold, yet strong enough to bring your curtains to life. Golden light followed, illuminating your bed in a strong glow. Your eyes opened just as the light hit your cheeks. You stirred slightly as a voice emanated from the light.

“Kid… Come on, Y/N. Time to wake up.” 

You sat up in a blaze of confusion and fear. The glow softened, revealing the familiar figure standing before you. 

“Dad?” Your eyes were wide. 

No, Santa Claus,” he scoffed. “Who else would it be?” Smiling at you like he had never left.

“This—this can’t be happening. I’m still asleep. You’re not here,” frantically trying to wake yourself up from this nightmare.

Come on, kid. After everything you’ve seen in your life, you’re going to tell me that ghosts are where your suspension of disbelief rests. I don’t buy it for a second.”

“Why are you here?” Gripping your blanket tightly.

“I’ve been watching you, Y/N. I have to admit I’m worried,” arms crossed over his chest. “My daughter doesn’t just give up when the world gets cold, that’s not how I raised you.”

“I’m not who I used to be… not without you,” bringing your knees up to your chin. 

He held out his hand in front of you. “Come with me, Y/N.” 

“No, Dad. I can’t,” choking up at the sight of your father reaching out for you. 

“Rise, and walk with me.”

You hesitantly stood and took his hand. A surge of adrenaline coursed through your body at the feeling of his hand in yours again.

“Close your eyes, kid.” 

You felt his hand resting over your heart as a warmth surrounded you. 

When you opened your eyes, your bedroom was gone. You were standing on a snowbank. The fragile snowflakes were swirling around you and crunching under your feet. 

 “I know this place, you used to bring me here to go snowboarding when I was little,” taking in the winter scenery.

Hmm, until your broken wrist convinced Pepper that snowboarding wasn’t an appropriate activity for my little girl.”

“Hey, you were a great teacher. I felt like I could do anything,” looking around at the snow that blanketed every inch of your surroundings. “That’s how it always felt with you.”

A moment later, a child giggling broke through the muffleness of the snow. 

“Come on, daddy! Faster!” You turned to see a much younger Tony Stark sliding down the small hillside on his snowboard with you in his arms. 

He slowly came to a stop at the bottom of the slope and placed you down in front of him.

“Oh my God,” you whispered under your breath.

“This was our first Christmas vacation together. Right after you came to live with me, you remember? It was when you got your first—“

“My very own snowboard!!” Your younger self squealed as Tony pulled it out of a bag at the bottom of the hill. It was purple with pink polka dots. “Thank you, Daddy!”

You giggled at your innocent excitement. You watched as your dad helped you with your helmet and strapped your little feet onto the binding. “Now the key to snowboarding is bending your knees and keeping your shoulders square.”

“Woah!” Slipping slightly as you tried to gain your balance.

Tony then walked across the snow, leaving about a twenty-foot gap between father and daughter. “Okay, kid. Now bend your knees and turn your shoulders towards me.”

You looked up at your father. It may have only been twenty feet but to your six-year-old eyes, it looked like two hundred feet.

“I can’t do it,” you shouted. “It’s too far!” 

“Yes, you can. Your dad is here to catch you.” Opening his arms out wide. “Every chance you take in life isn't going to be easy. But it will be worth it, I promise. You’re a Stark, Y/N, and we never give up when things get tough,” smiling at you with love in his eyes.

You hesitate slightly before bending your knees and turning your little shoulders towards Tony. Before you knew it, you were sliding down the little slope and into your dad’s loving arms.

“I did it, daddy! I did it!” You giggled with joy.

You sure did, Y/N,” lifting you over his head. “Her very first time on a snowboard ladies and gentlemen, we have a true natural here!” Your father exclaimed. Earning strange looks from the people around you. 

You were overwhelmed by the cherished memory unfold before your eyes. Your father put a hand on your shoulder. 

“You’re a Stark, Y/N. You don’t give up when things get tough. Pepper and Morgan need you, kid. They need you to remember who you are.” 

You threw your hands around your father and sobbed. Even if this was only a dream, you thanked God for the opportunity to hug your dad again. 

“I’ll always be with you, kid.”

You woke up with a shiver in your bed. Your eyes searched the room for Tony, but the room was empty. Of course, your dad wasn’t here. You rolled back over onto your side regaining your bearings.

*^~^*

As you finally began to doze off once more, you could just barely make out the blurry outline of your clock. 2 am. The light illuminating the crack below your door knocked the sleep from your eyes and the cobwebs from your brain. The door creaked opened slowly as yet another glow greeted you. This one was not as harsh, but softer and warmer. As the light gently dimmed, you recognized the silhouette immediately. Natasha.

“Nat?” Your voice cracked as your throat started to close. 

“It’s okay, Y/N. I’m here,” the redhead reassured you. 

“No, no you’re still on Vormir,” squeezing your eyes shut tight hoping that when you opened them again she would be gone. 

“My body, yes. My soul, no,” sitting down beside you on the bed.

“I miss you so much, Nat, I don’t know how to do life without you,” words broken apart by tears as you hid your face in your hands.

“I miss you too, malyshka. Please look at me.” 

You wiped your eyes and looked up at the ghost staring back at you. 

“You’re more capable than you know, Y/N. From the moment that little girl walked into the tower, I knew you had something inside you that wasn’t so easily distinguished. Even if it feels dimmed now by all that you have lost, it will never truly go out. I hope it brings you some comfort to know that you’re not the only one who feels this way,” reaching for your hand. 

As you felt her calloused hand wrap around yours, darkness overtook your senses, and the bed disappeared beneath you. When the darkness faded, you were no longer in your room, but in the hallway. Afternoon light still casts shadows on the walls.

“What are we doing out here?”

Natasha gestured toward your bedroom door just as it opened. Yelena emerged holding a bottle of Vodka, just as she had done a few hours prior. You watched as she closed your door behind her and walked back across the hall to her room. You followed Nat into her sister’s room. Yelena tossed the almost-empty bottle of Vodka on her bed before sitting down on the floor. Her lip trembled as tears began to slide down her cheeks. She reached inside her pocket and pulled out a strip of old photos from a Photo Booth. You recognized it immediately, both Yelena and Natasha had told you of their brief time together in Ohio. The mission that made them sisters.

“She seemed to be handling it so well,” you said to yourself.

“Oh, detka. You must know by now that Yelena buries everything until she self-destructs.”

I’ve been watching her. She has become more and more reckless on missions lately, Natasha explained. “It’s almost as if she doesn’t care whether she lives or dies…” 

“That’s not true, that can’t be true is it?” You pleaded with Natasha. 

“I fear if someone doesn’t notice the pain she is in soon, it may be too late.”

You called out for Yelena, but she couldn’t hear you. 

“She needs you, Y/N. Don’t let what happened to me take your heart.”

“My heart left when Clint came back without you,” your eyes welling up again. “I should have been there, I should have stopped you!”

“I made a choice, detka. It wasn’t your responsibility,” wiping the tears that rolled down your face with the pad of her thumb.

“I love you, Natasha,” wrapping your arms around her.

“I love you too, Y/N. I’m always watching,” squeezing you tight. 

All at once, the scene around you faded away. Your eyes shot open as you sat up in bed. She was gone. 

*^~^*

You sat there in shock, unable to cope with what you had just seen. You had already lost so many, you couldn’t lose Yelena too. It was unbareable to ponder. All at once a soft whooshing sound suddenly hit your ear. You slowly backed up onto your bed until you bumped into the headboard. A hooded figure slowly floated through the wall and stopped in front of your bed. 

“Who are you? What do you want?” Your voice trembling.

The hooded figure reached up and carefully removed its hood.

“Vision?” The name softly escapes your lips.

“Hello, Ms. Stark.”

“What is going on? Why is this happening to me?” Shouting in frustration. 

We’re worried about you Y/N. You can’t continue down this path, you have so much more to do. So much more love to give.”

“I can’t do it, Vis. I’m so tired.” A mix of exhaustion and desperation poured out of you.

“Yes, you can, Y/N. Do you think we would have made the trip if we didn’t think you could?”

“I feel so lost,” your voice barely above a whisper.

“The ones you love are lost without you, Y/N. Every day that you spend in this room, the ties that bind this family together wither away. And once they are gone, they are gone forever.”

“What do you mean?”

“Come with me,” the synthezoid ordered. 

You stood as Vision grabbed your hand. Your room melted away once more and you found yourself floating down onto an empty street.

“Where are we Vis?”

He pointed toward an entrance gate that you recognized instantly. You were on the street in front of the entrance to the compound. Snow falling softly all around you. As you walked towards the gate, a sign plastered across the metal came into view. 

Avengers Compound closed indefinitely. Property sold by order of Pepper Stark, Stark Industries CEO. 

“What is this Vision? Where is everyone?”

They’re gone, Ms. Stark. The Avengers are no more.“

“But, but…,” you stuttered. “I don’t understand?” Starting to panic. 

A wave of his hand produced a newspaper that he somberly handed to you. The color drained from your face as you read the headline. 

Avengers Are No More: The loss of the late Tony Stark’s eldest daughter proves to be the final straw for Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. 

“What is this Vis?” You could barely get the words out. 

Fury begged you to go back out into the field. Despite Mrs. Stark’s protests, you are your father’s daughter; stubborn to a fault. You insisted on going alone, but you weren’t ready. Your focus was tattered and your reflexes were dulled. They couldn’t cope with losing you, Y/N. They blamed one another for what happened. It tore them apart.”

You reached for the gate in front of you, your knees going weak. 

“Why are you showing me this, Vision,” tears streaming down your face as you sunk into the snow. 

“Because there is still time, Y/N. Time for you to save your family and to save yourself, but you need to let your loved ones in. Find comfort in their embrace, and let them find comfort in yours.

“I will, Vis.” You sobbed “I won’t let it wither away. Please, just let me go back!”

Vision took your hands in his. You’re going to be okay, Y/N. You’re never alone. We’re always with you.”

Everything slowly faded away into nothing. You woke with a cry. You struggled to catch your breath as you touched your face and pinched your arms.

“I’m alive!” Sitting up in bed. “There’s still time.” You reassured yourself. “FRIDAY, what day is it?”

“It’s Christmas Day 2023, Ms. Stark.”

“Thank God!”

You jumped out of bed and ran out of your room.

“It’s Christmas! Wake up, you guys!” You shouted happily as you banged on Yelena and Wanda’s doors. 

Pepper appeared at the end of the hall. Still in her pajamas with Morgan in her arms.

“Y/N? Are you okay? What’s going on?”

“I'm more than okay. It's Christmas and we're together! Hey, little sis! Come here,” grabbing Morgan from Pepper’s arms and kissing her cheek. “Should we go see what Santa brought you?”

“Yeah!”

You ran towards the living room with Morgan in your arms.

“What is going on?” Yelena mumbled emerging from her room with an impressive bed head. 

“I was just about to ask the same question,” Wanda added. She wiped her eyes as Billy and Tommy ran past her towards the Christmas tree.

“A Christmas miracle,” Pepper whispered.

[spacecadet-ticklesinspace]

Trying Out Tickles

Summary: When Merlin chooses to sass him, Arthur decides to test some interesting information he learned about his manservant.

(Merry Christmas @cantsaythetword ! ❤️ :) I was your squealing Santa this year! ❤️ :) I loved the TV show the first time I saw it and instantly knew Merlin had to be ticklish ❤️ :) I hope you have a Happy Holiday however you celebrate, and a great New Year ❤️ :))

"Merlin, you idiot! You'll dent it!"

The dark haired boy cringed as he pulled himself up from the floor. "It's armor Arthur."

"Still. A future king shouldn't appear before his people with dented armor."

"Stop having battles and you'll have nothing to worry about your royal pratness."

As Merlin picked up the dropped armor pieces, Arthur scowled. "I'd advise you not to speak to me like that."

"Yeah well when have I ever listened to your advice."

While Merlin muttered insults and picked up the pieces, a small smile pulled at the corner of the future king's mouth. He knew Merlin never meant any harm. He just did it to get under Arthur's skin. Then, as Merlin gathered the last of the pieces, Arthur took a step toward him. "I want to be able to see myself in the reflection before practice tomorrow."

"Thought you didn't want to dent it?"

"Huh?"

"One look at your face and the whole piece will bend."

Arthur reached to smack the back of Merlin's head. However, the younger boy managed to duck and gave Arthur a playful bump with his hip.

"Oi!"

Merlin smirked. "What about those reflexes your majesty?"

"You know, you're getting on my nerves."

The younger boy dodged another attack from Arthur. "Just have that affect on people."

"Idiot."

"Clotpole!"

"Moron!"

As the last insult left his mouth, Arthur reached forward to poke the younger boy's chest. However, at the sight of Arthur's hand moving, Merlin had reactively turned. So instead of poking his chest, Arthur's finger poked his ribs.

A surprised squeak left Merlin's mouth as he jumped away.

"What is wrong with you?"

"Y-your finger hit a bruise."

Arthur tried to cover up his concern with sarcasm. "Don't be such a girl Merlin."

The younger boy glared at the future king of Camelot. "Then don't be such a dunce!"

Arthur reached forward and poked Merlin's ribs again.

And once again, Merlin squeaked and jumped, but he couldn't quite hide the nervous giggles that followed. "Aharthur!"

Arthur's brow furrowed as he studied the thinner boy. The response did not equal a bruise on the ribs. "Are you sure it's a bruise?"

Merlin immediately backed away. "Yes, and don't gehet any ideheas!"

"Any ideas about what?"

"N-nothing!"

"What's gotten into you Merlin?"

"Nothing!"

Arthur watched with a slight twinge in his heart as the younger man scurried away. How had he gone from cocky to cowering in the blink of an eye? Had he really been that injured? Had someone done something to his ribs? Had Arthur done something? He had seemed fine all day today.

For another moment, the future king mulled over the clues. A memory from an interaction he had accidentally seen between Merlin and his mother Hunith had caused a similar response. He had completely forgotten about it until now. And, if memory served correct, Hunith had used a certain technique that had her son squealing and squirming as he apologized.

What was it she had called it? Something with a T? Arthur thought to himself.

Finally, a light clicked on. It was tickling.

Growing up in the castle, Arthur had never really been tickled before. He had occasionally been tazered on the side or ribs by Morgana, and he had a few memories from his younger days of Gaius spidering some fingers under his chin or behind his ears to distract him from things. However, he had never been properly tickled before and he for sure had never tickled anyone else.

Guess that's about to change.

With a smirk on his face, Arthur followed Merlin. The stables were quiet at this hour and Merlin had been rude to him. So it seemed like the perfect opportunity for Arthur to practice.

Inside the small room, the younger man was busy distracting himself by cleaning the armor pieces he had brought with him. With a grin, Arthur quietly locked the door before stepping closer to his manservant.

Once he was close, he clapped Merlin's shoulders. "Merlin!"

The younger man jumped, sending the pieces clattering to the floor once again. Merlin immediately punched Arthur's arm. "Do you normally annoy people this much or am I just the exception?"

"What has gotten into you Merlin?" The future king firmly grabbed his manservant's wrist. "You've dropped my armor twice, talked to me in a manner not fit to address a future king, and now you're attacking me?"

Merlin growled and tried to free his wrist from the hold. It didn't hurt, but he didn't like the fact that Arthur clearly had more strength than him.

As if to prove that thought, Arthur gently tugged Merlin toward him before quickly turning him around. Two arms then held him in place as he tried to squirm away.

"Arthur!"

"Maybe it's time someone taught you a lesson."

"Go for it! I'm used to the stocks."

"Who said I was putting you in the stocks?"

"What then?" Merlin stiffened. "Are you going to hit me instead?"

"Of course not. That's reserved for people who have done something horrid." The future king lowered them both to the floor. "Not for sassy manservants who are rude to their king."

Merlin raised an eyebrow at the change.

"Just to make sure you don't hurt yourself."

"What are you doing?"

"Something new." Arthur wrapped him in a hug and placed his hands around Merlin's thin sides. "Hunith gave me the idea."

Something about the situation clicked, making the younger man's eyes widen. "Dohon't you dare!"

"Don't do what Merlin?"

Merlin's mouth clamped his mouth shut.

"What Merlin?"

A head shake was his only response.

Arthur tried to bite back a smile as his manservant's squirming picked up again. "I can't stop if you don't tell me what it is I need to stop."

A squeak slipped out when Arthur's hands lightly squeezed. "Arthur!"

"Again, what's wrong Merlin?" The future king squeezed again with a little more force. "Ticklish?"

"Ah! Noho!"

Arthur couldn't hold back the grin on his face as he added in more and more squeezes.

"No! Ah! Clohotpohole!"

"You insulting me does not make me want to stop."

"Jerk!"

The future king's hands slowly squeezed upwards. "What was that?"

Merlin's laughter suddenly broke out when Arthur's hands made contact with his ribs. It didn't help that his thinner frame made it easier to grab and squeeze.

However, for all his squirming and insulting, Merlin never told Arthur to stop, nor did he try to pull away. He stayed squirming in the same place in Arthur's arms.

The future king smirked as he latched on to the spaces between Merlin's ribs. He was going slow and cautiously so he wouldn't hurt his manservant. But it was fun to make him laugh and squirm like a girl.

Why hadn't he done this sooner?

Suddenly a random idea popped in to his mind. "Merlin? How many ribs does the human body have?"

"IHI DOHONT KNOHOW!"

"Well why don't we see?"

"WHAT!"

After placing his hands on Merlin's bottom most ribs, Arthur squeezed. "One."

"AH!"

Then his hands moved to the next two. "Two."

"NO!"

The next rib was squeezed. "Three."

"ARTHUR!"

"Quiet Merlin. Now look what you've done. I've lost count and have to start all over again."

"No yohou dOHONT!"

Over and over went Arthur's hands, turning Merlin into a cackling, snorting mess.

"Ugh, I'm bored now." The future kings hands dug into Merlin's stomach. "What's hiding down here?"

The younger man squeaked as he curled into a ball.

"Ah, so it's a curling spot I see."

"Shut uhup!"

"Interesting, but not very entertaining." Arthur experimentally squeezed Merlin's hip. "What about here?"

Merlin jumped! His laughter shot up in volume and he let out a wheeze.

"Oo, that's more like it."

The younger man shoved Arthur's chest and tried to worm away but he was quickly pulled back.

"Let's see if we can find another one."

"Lehet's nohot!"

"Come now Merlin." This time Arthur's hand wormed its way into the younger man's armpit. "Didn't Hunith teach you to share?"

While not as ticklish as his hips, Merlin's armpits still produced a ton of laughter and squirms. Arthur would be lying if he said he wasn't enjoying this atleast a little bit. Merlin looked absolutely adorable and his contagious smile brought one to the future king's face too.

He decided to try one more thing before releasing the breathless younger man. Arthur leaned forward and pressed his lips against Merlin's neck before blowing hard. In response, Merlin squealed and kicked his legs just as he had for Hunith.

Once he was through, Arthur held Merlin close a little longer. "Now, if you get sassy again, I'll be forced to use same technique again."

The younger man kicked the future king's leg. "Dohont you dahare!"

"Ticklish idiot."

"Thihich headed Prahat!"

Arthur squeezed his knee. "Try that again?"

"AH! Yohou're royal prahatness!"

"That's more like it." The future king teased before playfully shoving him away. "Now come on, my armor still needs cleaning."

Merlin muttered, "Clean it yourself."

Arthur raised one eyebrow.

Merlin scurried to his feet and re-prepped the armor pieces for cleaning.

Arthur chuckled before heading out of the room. He trusted Merlin's work, but if he pushed the future king again, he may just have to use Hunith's tickle tactics all over again.

[birdy-bat-writes]

Can I Have This Dance?

Merry belated Chrysler and a very happy New Year to everyone! As a special little gift to @quillsareswords for our Christmas Fic Exchange. I was your secret Santa :D May I present to you, a jolly little holiday fluff! Hope you like it.

also, feel free to check out the other amazing writers posting for this fic exchange :) @glorified-red @quillsareswords @zombybird @citrinesparkles

Pairing: Damian Wayne (aged up) x Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Nothing really, I suppose bad grammar might be one:,D

Please like, reblog and comment, I literally love hearing from you! :) And if I make a mistake (which I probably did because yo girl is sleep deprived yeet) please drop it in the comments and I'll fix it asap. Live y'all!

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It was the week after Christmas and The Wayne family were all scattered around the country for their post-holiday-pre-new year’s tasks. Bruce was out on a business trip, Dick, Jason, Duke, and Tim were on vacation with their significant others, Alfred was making use of his spa resort gift card, and Barbara, Cass and Stephanie took a girl’s trip in Star City. That left you and your boyfriend, Damian, alone in Gotham. Don’t get me wrong, you were more than happy to be there. In fact, the two of you volunteered to stay back and take some time to recover from your semester finals. You were looking forward to staying with the Waynes and getting to see your family friends again.

Everyone was expected back by the 29th. One small problem: this was Gotham city; the land of unforeseen setbacks and a blizzard had snowed in all the runways at the airport.

Each member of the family was panicking at a different airport and it might have even been a little funny to watch it go down if you didn’t need everyone back for the New Year’s Party in 2 days. If they couldn’t get here before the 31st, which they couldn’t, you and Damian were going to have to decorate alone.

After getting off the phone with everyone you broke it down. You could spend today finding a catering service that could make it in this weather and fishing through the storerooms for decorations. And in Wayne Manor, that was a task. The storeroom was easily the size of a basketball court. Bless Alfred and his color-coded shelves.

On the 31st morning, the last of the preparations were being sorted. The food was tucked away in the industrial freezers and navy-blue carpet was laid out at every entrance, adorned with gold confetti-filled balloons. As you and Damian sat alone on the ballroom floor, untangling the last sets of string lights, you fully realized just how exhausted you were. After your finals, your days were a blur of packing, traveling, and trying to stay awake through every Christmas celebration you agreed (and regretted agreeing) to going to. You never truly had moment to enjoy your time with the family or even the one person you really wanted to be with: Damian. He must have seen you getting into your thoughts and pulled you out with some song suggestions.

“Okay, then, what’s your favorite slow song?”, he asked.

“I don’t even think I have one.”, you replied.

“There’s no way.”

“Of course, there is!”

“You don’t even have one slow song you love? Like a song you thought you’d play at your wedding or dance to with your prom date.” You silently nodded.

“I guess I never thought about it, and I didn’t really dance with anyone like that at prom.”

“You’ve…never slow danced?”

“Nope.” Damian almost seemed like he wanted to say something but decided against it at the last second. “What?”

“Nothing. I’ll be right back.” While waiting on him, you hung the set of lights and looked around the room proudly. Twinkling stars strung with lights from pillar to pillar, reflecting light off the marble floors and satin tablecloths. Not bad. Not bad at all.

You began turning on your heel to go find your boyfriend when you stopped in place, heart melting at what you saw. Damian was kneeling in the doorway with a handful of roses, wearing cheeky grin. “Y/N L/N, would you do me the honor of accompanying me to tonight’s ball?”

“Damian, what are you doing?” There was no one around and no reason to be embarrassed, but you still felt your face heat up.

“At the moment, I’m hoping you’ll say yes so I can show you a magical evening, and slow dance with me.”

As shy as you felt, you couldn’t hold back a smile at what he said. Here was your boyfriend of 5 months, in a relationship well past the stage for formalities, down on one knee with flowers, asking you to a dance like a couple of high school sweethearts.

“Of course, I would love to.” You said softly. With that, you headed upstairs your get ready.

You chose a silky green gown that flared at the waist and paired it with a few simple pieces of golden jewelry. After styling your hair into some soft waves, you reached for your shoes and the tv remote. There was still time until guests would start arriving but if you flipped to some entertainment channel you were sure you would find some station covering the press and for the Wayne Gala. You were barely paying attention to the channels when you heard it.

“…the winds are only getting stronger, and roads are iced over, folks. Gotham city is now on snowstorm watch. We advise all citizens to stay home and stay warm.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. That’s when the landline started to ring back-to-back. The guests were sending their apologies and regrets for not being able to attend. You obviously understood, but you felt your heart sink a little. You had put in so much work for it all to go down the drain. Just then, you heard a knock on the door.

“Come in.” Damian walked in looking just as disappointed as you. He must have heard the news too.

“I’m so sorry, Sweetie.”

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault. As far as I know, you can’t control the weather….or is that another secret you’re hiding from me?”, you joked.

“Yeah, I can control the weather and I choose to swing around the Gotham skies in -30 degrees at night. Great use of my secret superpower, don’t you think?” You two shared a laugh before getting Barbara’s call.

“Hey, you two. I’m so sorry, we just heard about the city shutting down.”, she said.

“Hey, Babs. It’s alright, are you still in the airport?”

“Well, we’re at an airport…”

“Who’s we?”, Damian asked. Barbara flipped the camera to face the whole Wayne family bundled up in scarves, huddled around their suitcases on the floor of some airport gate.

“All our flights got grounded in Metropolis. I’m sorry guy I don’t think we’re making it home tonight either.”

“Aww, well that’s okay. Just please stay warm and safe, okay?”

“You too. Bye.”

“Bye.” Damian turned to you with a look of sympathy.

“Well, I guess it all off then.” You whispered, kicking of the heels you barely finished putting on. “We should just go change into pj’s I guess.”

“We don’t have to.”

“Dami, no one else will be there. What’s the point of having a party alone?”

“We don’t need anyone else, the only person I really wanted to dance with will be there. That is, if she still agrees to accompany me tonight.” You looked at him, his eyes pleading with you. “We can play Axel F.”, he added, drawing a giggle from you. If nothing else, the two of you should get to enjoy the work you put into the place.

On the dance floor, Damian plugged his phone into the stereo system. He offered you his hand to Ed Sheeran’s Perfect.

The first few steps you took were slower than usual. He took you through an almost-waltz, twirling you around and sauntering across the room one step at a time. His hand never leaving yours. You wondered why you had never done this before. It was so much fun. Then again, maybe that had more to with your dancing partner than the dance itself.

You air-guitared and headbanged like rockstars, goofed around through a playlist on shuffle, and then box-stepped again to a Backstreet Boys song you would not stop making fun of him for.

“It’s a good song!”

“Whatever, babe, just remember you can never make fun of me for listening to Nickelback ever again.” Pulling in you in close enough to feel his breath on your skin, he said,

“The backstreet boys are infinitely better than Nickelback.”

“You wish.”

“I’m right and you know it.” That’s when the next song played, and it took you both pleasantly by surprise. Can I Have this Dance from High School Musical 3.

“I haven’t heard this song in ages.”

“Me neither. Wasn’t this one of your favorite movies?”

“Yeah, it was. I so wanted to be the main character in this. She was teaching Zac Efron how to waltz. That was probably the epitome of romance to me when I was younger.”

“Well, I’m no Zac Efron, but like the song says, can I have dance this dance?” taking his hand one more time, you took to the floor holding him even closer as if you didn’t want be away from him for even second. A little before the song came to close, you spotted the grandfather clock at the top of the staircase striking 11:59.

“Damian?”

“Yes, love?”

“Happy new year.” He turned towards the clock, seeing the seconds hand only a fourth of a rotation away from the new year. Smiling, he places his hand on your cheek.

“Happy, New year, Y/N.” and as the bell rang for midnight, he placed his lips on your and everything felt like heaven. Pulling him further into your embrace, you deepened the kiss. When you pulled away you said what he was thinking.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Not even a minute later, the doors to ballroom swung open and roughly 10 people scampered in, tracking snow. It was every member of the family and…Superman?

“It’s nice to finally see you, Happy New Year!” Duke exclaimed. When Damian wordlessly motioned to Superman in the corner, Dick answered,

“If anyone asks, we did not have superman fly us all to Gotham city in a broken-down school bus and there is not a school bus in our backyard. Don’t check.”

“Okay….” You wish you were surprised.

“Nice to have the family back together again.” Damian said squeezing your hand.

“Yeah, it really is.”

[notmanagingmymischief]

𝐿.𝒲. || 𝒮𝒶𝓃𝓉𝒶 𝒯𝑒𝓁𝓁 𝑀𝑒

it has been SO LONG but I couldn’t let Christmas pass without feeding you people. so here. have some soft-ish Larissa. You’re welcome, Merry Christmas to all that celebrate. 🎄🥰

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Warnings: none

Word Count: 3.4K

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@president-teddy @holly-fire @consciouschunkofmoss @mxbeezkneez @fxoehy @inlovewithbilliedean @sythaerin @winters-witch-bitch @takemercyonme @when-i-miss-you @jojalie @ahoy-gays @marvelgeek09 @pachipachitot @smthaboutyou

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enjoy xx

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Santa, tell me if you’re really there, don’t make me fall in love again if she won’t be here next year.

The first time you spent Christmas at Nevermore wasn’t anything too eventful. It might have been, if it weren’t for the fact that you were stuck watching students clinging to each other’s arms, couples laughing and smiling as the snow fell around them. Meanwhile, you stayed in the background, refusing to let yourself open up enough to even BEGIN to form a relationship with anyone. Did you not want to get your heart broken, or was it something else?

Feeling Christmas all around, and I’m tryin’ to play it cool

The whole school had been decked out with Christmas decorations; garlands on the fireplaces, wreaths hung on dorm-room doors, and lights twinkling in almost every window. You walked slowly through the snow, wrapped in a fluffy coat and gloves, the hood pulled up over your head to try and warm your chill-reddened ears. The atmosphere was wonderful, snow falling lightly around you, and when you walked inside, the coziness was nearly enough to warm you up all on its own. Yet you could feel a certain unease in your bones that refused to go away no matter how long you stood in front of the fireplace.

Let It Snow is blasting now, but I won’t get in the mood

Enid had dragged you back to Ophelia Hall the next time you saw her to hang out, and you saw her girlfriend as well, still decked in black and pigtails ever-present. She acknowledged you with a nod of her head but nothing more. As Enid grabbed your hands and grinned at you, chattering about the cold and whatever she’d been up to that week, you heard a familiar tune start playing out of her wireless speaker. “I love this song!” she squealed, turning the volume up as ‘Let It Snow’ blasted through the large device. Still, as much as you enjoyed the time with them, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to be as happy as Enid was, denying her offer to dance when the next song came on with a polite smile and instead choosing to sit by Wednesday to ask softly how her novel was going. Her responses were curt and cold, but you didn’t take it personally; she talked like that to everyone except Enid.

I’m avoiding every mistletoe until I know it’s true love

It was no secret that the students of Nevermore were a sneaky bunch. Very few hadn’t pulled a prank or two on the faculty–or each other–and that was a normal occurrence. So why were you thinking that maybe you would get through a single holiday without getting messed with. It was another day of arguing with your boss, Principal Weems, as per usual. The two of you were walking side by side, ironically enough, bickering loudly and animatedly as neither of you refused to give in even though both had work to do. And so you’d resolved to argue as you kept walking, something about your friendship with Wednesday. Larissa didn’t like her, that much was obvious. You supposed she had a good reason for her dislike of Wednesday–unlike her uncalled-for dislike of you–after all the shit she’d pulled since her enrollment. But you didn’t agree with her taking that anger out on others, not even on you. “That’s bullshit, Larissa! She’s just a kid, you can’t–” The silver-haired woman cut you off with a raise of her hand and snapped, “I can and shall do whatever I want, Miss L/N.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes and taking a firm step down as you spun on your heel to face her in the doorway you’d just arrived at.

“Why do you hate her so much?! I’m not saying she’s perfect, but I don’t think you should be considering expulsion!” You snapped back, glaring at the (much) taller woman in front of you, also stopped and now with her hands on her hips and an unimpressed glare on her face. With a tut she stated “Might I remind you that this is the third time Miss Addams has done something like this? Not only could she have hurt herself, but she could have endangered her classmates, as well!” With this statement she too stepped forward, poking you rudely in the sternum with a perfectly manicured nail and getting much too close for your poor hammering heart. She was so close that you could practically feel the heat radiating from her body, though you were probably imagining it.

However, it was only when you made to take your leave, finally getting sick of this pointless argument, did you realize that you couldn’t move. It was as if you were tethered to the floor by some unseen force, looking up to Larissa to see if she was experiencing the same effect. It was obvious that she was by the way her wide eyes glanced wildly around the area, looking for any sign of escape. It was then that she looked up (though she didn’t need to look very far given that she was only about six inches below the top of the door frame) and made eye contact with what, at the moment, was the most repulsive object she’d ever seen.

Mistletoe.

And apparently, not JUST mistletoe, but cursed mistletoe. It was the only explanation, at least in this place, and since the woman just kept staring you also eventually looked up and saw the small plant hanging there, bright red berries practically taunting you from above. You released a shaky sigh and lowered your gaze slightly to Larissa’s, already glaring down at you as if it was your fault the two of you had ended up in this position. In return, you gave her a scandalized look and exclaimed, “Oi! Don’t give me that look, I’m as shocked as you are!” The Principal groaned under her breath, cursed quietly, and finally let out a heavy sigh before muttering, “Can I please go one day without being the victim of some childish joke?” You knew she was stalling; neither of you were stupid, or ignorant enough, to believe that this was some sort of fluke or odd chance. There was one way you were getting out of this and it was not favorable to either of you. “In light of recent events, I’d say the answer is no…” you muttered, crossing your arms and refusing to meet Larissa’s eyes.

The principal didn’t look away, staring at you even as you continued burning holes into the lacquered floorboards beneath your feet. Every few seconds you tried to step away again, just hoping that somehow, by sheer force of will, you could break the curse and escape this torment. Alas, you couldn’t move an inch and finally, Larissa scoffed and hissed something under her breath. Now, you were quite a bit shorter than this woman, obviously. Just to look her in the eye, you had to strain your neck upwards and you weren’t even that short. She was just fucking huge. Given this height difference, it’s not like it could be a quick one-and-done thing because Larissa would have to make a big deal with getting down to your height. So with no choice but to (in her mind) embarrass herself–the woman silently thanked the gods no one else was around to see this unfortunate series of events–she bent at the waist, tipped your chin up with her right hand, and pressed her lips to yours. It barely lasted a moment, over faster than you could even blink, before she stood up straight again with an expectant air about her.

But nothing happened. You tried to move away, but that force still kept your feet planted in place. Horrorstruck, Larissa’s gaze snapped down to your equally alarmed one as you breathed “Oh gods…” The older woman snapped “What? What is going on, y/n?!” It was not often that Larissa used your first name, insistent that she must maintain professionalism by continuing to use your surname. It was only when she was worried, tired, or upset that she pulled out the first name, so you scrambled to reply; “I think I know what this is. It’s cursed-” “Oh, figure that one out yourself, did you?” “Shut up, Larissa! If you would let me finish, I was going to say that it isn’t going to let us go without…” you groaned, covering your face with your hands as heat crept up your neck and cheeks. Thankfully Larissa got the message and if you’d have looked up you would have seen a gentle flush dust her cheeks as well. “I have things to do today,” she muttered, clearly getting more upset the longer you two stayed there.

With an indignant huff, you thought about all the things you had to do today and how much it would suck to have to do them tomorrow because you refused to grow a pair and kiss Larissa Weems under the goddamn cursed mistletoe. Fingers twitched at your sides for a moment, you ground your teeth together in focus, before finally reaching out, grasping the lapels of Larissa’s blazer, and yanking her down to meet you. To her credit, the only indication of her surprise was an almost imperceptible ‘oh!’ before your lips met. You held her there, squeezing your eyes closed until the pressure began to get painful. Larissa’s own hands hung in the air on either side of you, her muscles straining uncomfortably with the angle at which her body had to bend to reach you. This had to be the most awkward and uncomfortable kiss you’d ever initiated as Larissa still did not move until finally, after what felt like actual millennia , she hesitantly placed her hands on your shoulders, the muscles unconsciously relaxing under her warm touch.

Faintly you could feel the tackiness of her candy red lipstick on your mouth as she–whether knowingly or not–gradually began to respond, both of you allowing yourselves to at least kind of enjoy the sensation. The taller woman’s fingers tentatively lifted to your jaw, grazing the bone almost reverently. Still, the moment Larissa felt the uncomfortable weight lift off her shoulders she didn’t hesitate to jerk away from you. While you took a moment to recover from whatever that was, Larissa took one glance down at you, at your flushed cheeks and out-of-it expression, and with little more than a soft blush, the woman marched away, not looking back once with some sort of subconscious fear that, should she do such a thing, she wouldn’t be able to look away. Oh, how she hated you.

Santa tell me if she really cares

After your less than lucky run-in with mistletoe and a certain Principal, you’d had even more trouble ignoring the woman. She, however, had no problem with this task. Any time you made eye contact, no matter what the situation, she without fail managed to bail, leaving you to stare after her in bemusement. Unless it was the weekly staff meeting, at which time you had no choice but to sit in the same room together for almost an hour. Still, Larissa resolutely avoided your gaze, expertly appearing to pay attention to you when you spoke while also never actually making any sort of eye contact. At least before, she would interact with you long enough to get into an argument with you. Now, you just felt quite…lonely.

It had always been obvious, to you at least. You’d had a crush on Weems since practically day one. That’s why you missed even the constant fights you’d have with the woman, once she seemed to stop caring about your existence entirely. ‘Distance makes the heart grow fonder’ must be true, for the longer you went without any contact, the more you yearned to apologize. To explain. To do anything as long as it meant being able to smell her perfume and see the stupid little smirk she gave when she won an argument.

I’ve been down this road before, fell in love on Christmas Day

Another bleak and cold December afternoon, and you sat perched on the windowsill in your room, looking outside to the snowy Nevermore campus. It was a day like this, you realized, when you said those three fateful, terrible, damning words to them. These days it was little but a fleeting memory, but you could remember the soar in your chest when you realized your true feelings, the adrenaline rush that came with confessing to them, and the following admittance of mutual emotion. The snow fell around you as you embraced, not caring about the cold or the way your bodies trembled, only caring about the warmth each other’s lips brought the other.

But on New Years Day, I woke up and they weren’t by my side

All of those feelings came crumbling down only weeks later when they told you they were wrong. When they said that they had only wanted to feel like that about you, because truly they loved seeing you happy, but they didn’t love you. It was holding back tears that you smiled and bade them farewell; from your home, your life, your universe. It was the first day of the New Year, and you had planned on celebrating your new life that you had thought was ahead of you. Instead, you lay in a crumpled heap on your apartment floor, sobbing and cold at the lack of their presence. Since that day you refused to let anyone influence you in such a way, refused to allow your heart to get shattered like that all over again. It hurt too much, was too painful to relive. So instead you moved here, to Jericho. Started a new life, a new job, started over. What you hadn’t expected was to fall in love with the Headmistress.

Now I need someone to hold, be my fire in the cold

Another day of loneliness accompanied by a scathing sense of disdain towards anything “nice”. Even more couples had been flaunting themselves around the school, not afraid to show their affection and adoration for all to see. And it didn’t feel fair that the only person you wanted to share those moments with was STILL avoiding you like the plague. Not to mention that even if she wasn’t, she still hated your guts. The chill of midwinter air was felt down to the bone, no matter how many layers you wrapped about your shoulders, or how hot your mug was in your woolen-clad hands. It was blistering and biting in a way that only loneliness could be, in a way only the feeling of another’s embrace could relieve.

But if it’s hard to tell if this is just a fling or if it’s true love

At this point, your mind was completely in tatters. One day Larissa was avoiding you, and now she was stuck to you like a bug to fly paper. Every corner you turned she seemed to be there, trying to strike up a conversation–any conversation for that matter–and it confused and distressed you greatly. Because you were finally starting to take the time away from the woman to get over her, but with her having flung herself back into your life at such a breakneck intensity there wasn’t anything you could do except let it happen, really. It caught you off guard how friendly Larissa was being, to the point where you were the one who had to begin to distance yourself. And once again the silver-haired bipolar flipped like whiplash, noting your sudden apprehension and pulling away all over again. Oh, how you despised her.

I wanna have her beside me on the 25th by the fireplace

Here it was. Christmas day. Well, evening technically. The Christmas party that had been, remarkably, kept quite hush-hush until the day of. It was a blast but the happiness dissolved as soon as you began the long walk to your room. Dazed, slightly out of it, and just a tad bit tipsy, you didn’t realize that you’d ended up in front of what was not your room until you looked up and found a door that was, decidedly, not yours. In fact, it was the very person you’d had on your mind for the past month, and with alcohol raising your confidence, you brought your hand up and knocked on the heavy mahogany wood thrice. A few moments later a melodic voice sounded out an “Enter!” to which you did just that, slipping inside and closing the door behind you.

Larissa hadn’t yet looked up, just muttering “What do you want?” while she languidly twirled her fingers around the stem of a crystal wine glass. She sat in front of a large fireplace, curled up on a settee that looked far too expensive. “Do you want the truth or some sugar-coated lie?” At the sound of your voice, the woman’s head whipped to face you, firelight glancing over her features and shrouding her icy eyes in shadows. That gaze raked over your form before her broad shoulder drooped with a heavy sigh and long fingers gestured you forward. The woman’s body returned to its previous position, angled towards the still blazing flames.

But I don’t want a broken heart, this year I’ve got to be smart

“You never answered my question,” you stated as you sat down beside her, giving yourself enough room to not touch her, but staying close enough as to not remain a stranger. “Do you want the truth, or not?” Larissa huffed out a strained laugh, taking another sip of wine and never once looking toward you. “Personally, I want some peace and quiet, but you can’t even give me that, can you Miss l/n?” she replied, but for once it wasn’t biting. Instead, it held a tone of indifference and, if you squinted, playfulness. God forbid. In response you shrugged and also looked to the fire, twisting your fingers together as you said, “I suppose not, Principal Weems.” The two of you stayed silent for a long while, as you fought the urge to scoot closer to the woman and she considered whether she should offer you some wine.

Eventually, though, you got sick of the silence and sighed before muttering, “Perhaps I should go. It’s gotten late,” and going to stand up with a nod towards the Principal. “Happy Christmas, Larissa.” “Miss l/n.” You did not respond, not in the mood anymore to banter. Only when you were halfway to the door and you heard a sharp “Y/n!” did you freeze in place. When it was followed by a softer, sweeter “Please come back,” you could do nothing more than obey, returning to your spot on the couch–this time closer as Larissa motioned for you to do so. A long arm came to gingerly lay over your shoulders and you, just as timidly, leant your head against the woman’s shoulder, sighing contentedly at the warmth she emanated and the scent of that oh-so-familiar perfume you had missed so badly.

This time when the room fell silent, it wasn’t for long, and it wasn’t tense. Larissa broke it then, murmuring no more than a breathy apology. An apology. From Larissa Weems? To you? You must be dreaming. But no, she really was apologizing, and instead of teasing her for it, you just nodded and repeated the sentiment. It didn’t need to be said, what was being apologized for. It just was in the air. You knew what it was for, without having to speak it into existence. And there, the two of you stayed, for quite some time, just enjoying the peace with no sound except your soft breaths and crackling wood embers in the hearth. When you did finally bid goodnight, well past midnight, Larissa hesitated to let you go at the door. There was a shared look between the two of you that sparked something in her chest, and the woman bent down to place a chaste kiss on your lips. It lasted no more than a moment, but the intention was clear enough. It was loud enough, even with no words spoken. And once you did leave, her door closing silently behind you, the two of you unknowingly both leant against the thing, and but a single thought flitted through your heads.

“Oh, how I love her.”