#festive fluff

[uncertainwallflower]

CHRISTMAS KISSES (one-shot) Rating: T

James chuckled as he spun her into the middle of the room. His hands found their way to the small of her back while hers worked their way up to his neck. They swayed to the music, slightly offbeat, occasionally trodding on one another's toes. 

AO3 WATTPAD 

[silverhallow]

🎄Christmas at Aubrey Hall 🎄

pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Sophie Beckett

summary: Christmas 1824 at Aubrey Hall. A follow on from Reflections and In Sickness and In Health. A little drabble of the start of the first Christmas as a 6, with the rest of the Bridgerton’s around

Word count: 1915

Written for @missbridgerton20

It had only been 6 weeks since Benedict’s world had nearly been ripped apart, that his wife had gone into labour early that Sophie had declared she was determined she was going to Aubrey Hall for Christmas, as had been their family tradition for the last 7 years.

“But we weren’t going to go this year!” Benedict had tried to argue after Sophie had informed him of this after the Doctor had seen her and once again had said that she was recovering very well, remarkably well and that she was now allowed back up on her feet.

“Yes because everyone was coming here since I was supposed to due next week, but everyone, including Fran, who has some sort of surprise for everyone, are now going to Aubrey Hall, and there is no way that i’m letting the boys miss out of a christmas with all their cousins, Eloise and Phillip are going with the twins, so they’d be the only ones left out” Sophie had replied stubbornly.

It had been the ongoing argument for three weeks and Benedict had only acquiesced after he’d made her seen 5 different doctors over the next few weeks and even up to the morning of their departure, he had made her seen different medical examiners and when each and every single one had proclaimed that provided they took it carefully, allowed for extra time to travel, she was fine to travel.

They took an extra day to travel with their new born daughter but by the time Sophie and her family had arrived at Aubrey Hall, she was at her wits end. Charlie and Alex had not stopped talking, Will who’d barely left her side for the last few weeks had kicked her several times in his sleep before then squirming on her lap because he was excited to see Lottie.

Violet had been the only person in the carriage not to give Sophie a headache, other than when she wanted feeding she’d slept on her father and had wanted to be with him more than her mother.

But Benedict had driven her up the wall on their journey, he’d tried to get two more doctors to check her out in each of the inn’s that they had stopped at and she was beyond angry at him.

She wouldn’t put herself in harm's way if she hadn’t felt up to it, she felt fine, she knew her body, yes some of it was sore still and William kicking her didn’t help but she felt fine, she knew a few weeks with their family would be the medicine they all needed.

When they’d pulled up outside of Aubrey Hall it had been carnage with small children everywhere, William trying to swan dive out of the carriage to see Lottie who was screeching excitedly for him and then the older boys all just chattering excitedly over the top of one another.

It had not been the calm entrance she’d been hoping for and her patience was wearing thing and Anthony’s coddling whilst she was being hugged by her niece and nephew’s had done nothing to calm her down.

She’d snapped at everyone, taken Violet from Kate and proceeded straight into the house, walking in there like she was the Viscountess rather than Kate, her head held high determined that she was not showing any sign of the exhaustion she felt as she heard the excited chattering of the children behind her as she made her way to the nursery to feed Violet.

It had taken Kate reminding her how close she’d come to dying, not once but twice giving birth to Violet and how terrified Benedict had been and that he was just being concerned out of love rather than annoyance that Sophie had decided to forgive him, on the condition that he backed off with the mollycoddling, and included Anthony in it because she knew that Benedict would just get Anthony involved and as the head of the family and the closest thing Sophie had to an older brother he would have taken up the mantle as well as Benedict would have.

It had been agreed in Anthony’s study that as long as she didn’t over exert herself and say if she was feeling unwell, that they would both keep their coddling to a minimum.

Sophie had been subject to a fair bit of coddling from the rest of the Bridgerton’s as they arrived in turn, the news of Sophie’s traumatic birth had clearly made it’s way through the family, not that Sophie was surprised, and even Hyacinth had been making sure Sophie was wrapped up, given the seat closest to the fire and Gregory and Colin had made sure Sophie was at least offered the last piece of Shortbread or whatever treat they were having at that time.

It was only when Francesca arrived that the attention seemed to be diverted away from Sophie, and lord was she pleased for it.

When Francesca had stepped out of the carriage with a sly smirk on her family as she looked around and said “I’ve got a surprise for you all…” before moving out of the way “let me introduce you to my husband…”

And Michael Stirling stepped out of the carriage, it had turned into bedlam, Colin had let out a cheer of joy, having hoped that his sending Michael up to Scotland after his sister would result in this, confusion from Anthony and Benedict who’d had no inclination as to an attachment between them, to him then proceeding to charm their mother, then their sister’s then their wives who giggled like school girls… it had been a major shock to the system.

The only thing that made it worse was baby Violet seemed to be rather taken with the Merry Rake as she’d been introduced to the last of her aunts and her last uncle. She’d screamed whenever she’d been passed around the Bridgerton’s, fussed and not been happy til she was back in either her mother or preferably her father’s arms but the moment she had been handed to Michael, he’d put a thumb on her cheek and with a soothing shhhh, she’d settled, almost instantly, grabbing onto the thumb and refusing to let go for nearly two hours.

Benedict had been most put out.

Sophie had chuckled “now you see how I feel” she’d whispered to him when they’d sat down for their luncheon and Violet had refused to let go of her uncle’s finger.

After all the initial drama’s and shocks, it settled into routine and by Christmas eve, Sophie was feeling more refreshed than she could have hoped for.

William had stopped clinging to her skirts and was running around with the rest of his cousins and could happily go all day without seeing his Mama. Alex was surprisingly behaving himself, or at least behaving himself to his standards, there had been a few pranks with Oliver and Neddy being the joint perpetrators, and Amanda, Amelia and Belinda being on the receiving end of it but it had been quite harmless.

The morning snowball fight had seen the boys thoroughly trounced by their female cousins and sister and it had taken sweets from their grandmama to calm them down and stop it turning into a full out war.

By the time Sophie was dressing for bed that evening, she felt at complete peace with the world.

Benedict had managed to get some painting in thanks to the free time he found he was able to have with Violet being more than happy to be attached to her Uncle and whilst he was fuming with it, he was pleased to have the time to paint.

“I honestly don’t get it, why she’s so obsessed with him” Benedict had said after Michael had been the one to take Violet to the nursery that evening.

“He’s different and new is all, and he isn’t a Bridgerton” Sophie said from behind her changing screen

“So is Simon and she’s not obsessed with him” Benedict argued

“No but Simon’s been around the Bridgerton’s a lot more, he’s practically a Bridgerton save for the surname, and lets be honest, if he could change it he would… but I don’t know, perhaps he just smells comforting. She will still always be your little Princess darling, it’s not like Mike and Fran are going to steal her and run off to Scotland with her” Sophie argued

“I know but i’m her papa!”

“And you’ll always be her Papa, nothing is going to change that. It is still you that comforts her, it’s you that is going to teach her to paint and all the other wonderful things you’ve taught our boys… but are you going to spend the entire of this evening complaining about Michael, or can I give you an early Christmas Present?” Sophie asked, peering at him from behind the changing screen.

“Well… I guess it would be rather rude of me to continue to waste our child-free time…” he said, putting down the piece of paper he’d been sketching on.

Sophie giggled “well, part of the reason I refused to let you in the room with the doctor before we came up here was because I wanted him to see how I'd healed, you… know… erm… down there… it’s been 12 weeks and i’d been hoping that i’d be… well healed… and well he said I was nearly there and to give it a few more weeks so…” she said stammering a little, she felt a bit self-conscious but she knew Benedict didn’t care about how she looked, he loved her no matter what and she’d missed her husband.

She’d seen the way his eyes lingered on her, she knew he had been waiting and like with the boys he’d never push her into anything, never make her do anything that she wasn’t ready for but tonight she was ready.

She could see Benedict sitting up straighter in bed, his eyes going darker in the light of their candles and she saw the hope on his face, the way his breathing hitched as he held his breath waiting for the words to come out of her mouth.

She stepped out from around the screen, the silver of her new night robe shimmering, clinging to her body and curves in a way that made Benedict squirm in the bed giving her more confidence.

“I’m ready…” she said shyly, almost feeling like it was their first time all over again.

“Are… are you sure?” he stammered, not wanting to push her, not wanting to rush it.

“Positive” she said as she walked towards the bottom of the bed and Benedict couldn’t help but be lured in, he was powerless to resist his wife at the best of times but after coming so close to losing her, he’d wondered if he’d ever get to enjoy her again, to be with her like this, so to have her there in front of him, like the apple offered to Eve… temptation in silver… his favourite colour on her. He was weak to resist.

Sophie smiled as she reached out a hand and took Benedict’s hand in hers and slid to her waist and she leaned in, “Merry Christmas my love” she whispered, letting her lips trail seductively over his

“Merry Christmas to me indeed…” he whispered, pulling her into him and capturing her lips with his, revelling in their time together once more.

[hal-1500]

Merry Calendiles-mas! This is my contribution for @calendiles-secret-santa 2022, for @tilltheworldblowsup. Hope you enjoy it!

And lots of thanks to @dreadfulcalendarwoman for organising!

[ethereal-night-fairy]

Mistletoe Kisses

Poly!141 x GN reader

It's Christmas day and the boys are acting even weirder than usual. And coincidentally all the mistletoe you placed has been moved. Your in for an eventful day.

This is part 3 of this drabble part 2 is here. Sleepy - pre poly ask

Words: 3.6k

Masterlist

Warnings: Kissing, suggestive language, flirting, pining, stealing kisses, slight hint of BDSM. Sorry if I missed any

You wake up at 5:30am a little later than usual since it was everyone's day off. You dress in your gym gear, ready to get some cardio and weights in for the day. You'll have so many calories to burn after the Christmas dinner your going to have.

You walk into the gym to find it empty. No surprise there. It was Christmas who wanted to exercise on Christmas. Majority of people were probably in the common room opening and exchanging presents. Or calling their loved ones. Saying sweet words to spouses and children. You might do the same, give a few friends a call later on to wish them well.

You settle in your usual gym spot and begin your stretching routine. You only get about halfway through when you hear the gym door bang and clatter like it was being pushed and pulled with aggression. You watch through the glass door as Gaz and Soap fight each to get through first. You laugh at the absurdity as you call out to them.

“Didn't know the gym was in such high demand on Christmas day!”, you laugh at them, finally squeezing through together. What you failed to notice was that Price and Ghost had used the other entrance to sneak up behind you as you laughed. It was too late by the time you noticed.

“Not the gym luvie, just you”, you felt a shiver run down your spine as a hand snaked its way around your waist preventing you from escaping. You twist your body to find Ghost right behind you with his arm on your hips now. It's when you look up that you notice the mistletoe right above your workout place. The dots click in your head but not soon enough. You feel the kiss on your forehead before you can move away. The second kiss comes from Price on your cheek as you move away from the mistletoe a second later.

“You sneaky bastards”, you laugh with mirth. They finally caught you. You look up again at the mistletoe a few feet away as Gaz and Soap approach clearly vexed by the situation. Price gives them both a smug look as he goes about getting ready for his workout. Ghost was already on the weights.

“That's so unfair!”, Gaz exclaims.

“You think it's unfair, it was my idea to put the mistletoe there”, Soap grumbles as they all go to their respective places.

“You guys are so silly, all this effort for a kiss?”, you look at the high ceiling where the mistletoe was taped. It must have taken a while to figure out how to get up there. You shake your head as you get back to your work out. If you think this was a one time occurrence you were sorely mistaken.

You enter the mess hall to find it full and go over to your usual sitting place once you had gotten your plate of food waiting for the guys to show up after their showers. You watch them enter and Gaz immediately makes a beeline for you with Soap closely behind. Your confused until you look above your head to find a string and mistletoe hanging about a metre above. You quickly try to change seats but Gaz was right in front of you when you stood up. He gives you his best disarming full canine smile before placing a kiss on your nose and hauling you in his arms away from the mistletoe so Soap couldn't get a kiss. Causing him to curse in frustration.

“What's gotten into you all..”, you eye them suspiciously. “You guys have another bet going on don't you?.....you do, don't you?”, you give Soap a questioning look as he looks away sheepishly. Gaz puts you down not before snuggling into the side of your neck saying he'll be back in a sec. You watch them both leave to get in line for breakfast, not answering your question. You pick another seat away from the mistletoe as you watch Price and Ghost approach with their plates. You all eat normally as if the events of the morning hadn't happened. You really were going to let it all slide since you thought this was the end of it but that was far from the truth. You'd find that out soon later.

Though today was everyone's day off, you still preferred being organized. You did dip into the common room to wish everyone a Happy Christmas before going about doing little tasks. You spent the rest of the morning being preyed upon by your teammates. Whether you were going into the Price office to collect something or grabbing something from your locker you were always met with someone stealing kisses from you. You had gotten too comfortable with the placement of the mistletoe that you hadn't realised they had moved them. You've lost count with how many kisses they've stolen from you. Except for Soap that is. He was always interrupted in his early attempts with the others sabotaging his chances. And by then you had caught on to their little game and started surveying your surroundings. A cute little game of cat and mouse. The only fragment of peace you got was when you went into your room to call a few friends or went into the bathroom. But you couldn't hide there all day; you had things to do. Your friends laughed at your predicament and told you ridiculous theories they had about your teammates. You ended up laughing off their jokes. There's no way….right? Right? Why would they be interested in you?

You shake your head as you grab the festive apron you had just bought not long ago. It was mid day and Price had said he'll help you with the dinner prep. You still needed to make dessert as well so you scurried off to the kitchen while keeping an eye out for mistletoe. You arrived to find the kitchen empty. The dinner for the rest of the troops was going to be delivered by a restaurant this year around. But you wanted to do something special for your boys. You walk to the fridge while trying to put your apron on. As you're doing so, you feel warm calloused hands engulf your own taking the ties of your apron from you. You let go startled, feeling a very familiar beard brush up against the shell of your ear.

“Captain..?”, you let out breathlessly.

“Aren't you a pretty little thing working so hard to make your boys dinner.” His hot breath fans the side of your face causing goosebumps to raise on the skin of your neck as he ties your apron behind you with careful and precise movements. His touch leaving behind a burning trail of heat. Air gets stuck in your throat as you go to turn around. You're trapped between the counter and Price's toned body. His eyes look hungry and it doesn't seem like the hunger is for food. His blue orbs roam your body up and down as you stand there frozen. You watch his hand reach up above your head to open the cabinet behind you. As he does so your eyes look up to find mistletoe taped to the inside of the wood. Directly above your head. How convenient. You let out a laugh. You wondered why they were trying so hard to win this bet you knew nothing about.

You brace yourself for another kiss to the forehead or possibly a cheek or even your nose. But he has a mischievous glint in his eyes as his gaze dips down to your lips making your heart pound knocking against your ribcage. It felt like it was going to burst out of your chest at this rate. His eyes flicker to your eyes before dipping back down to your lips. He's never looked at you with so much want and desire before. You don't know where to run or hide but it felt like he was stripping you with his gaze alone. Ever so slowly you watch him lean down to bring his lips closer as if he wasn't sure if you'd allow his advances. When he doesn't get a rejection response from you his mouth comes closer as you stand there questioning every lingering touch and flirty joke you've been on the receiving end of.

Your eyes flutter shut as his nose brushes against yours. His warm minty breath fanning your face. You hold the air within your lungs awaiting the prickle of his beard and the soft touch of his tender lips….

“Oi!!”, your eyes fly open your head immediately turning to the door of the kitchen like you've been caught red handed. Even though it wasn't you that did anything.

You find Soap standing in the doorframe with his arms crossed.

“The rules were no kissing on the lips Captain”, Soap walks in clearly annoyed. As the captain grumbles something you take the chance to slip past Price to go towards the fridge again fanning your face.

OMG YOU WERE ABOUT TO LET YOUR CAPTAIN…YOUR CAPTAIN KISS YOU ON THE LIPS. There must be something seriously wrong with you. You don't engage with the bickering that was happening as you got the meat out to sear. Trying desperately to get that almost kiss out of your mind.

You don't get that luxury though as Ghost and Gaz walk in to find their captain and sergeant getting into a heated argument. Which ended with Johnny snitching on Price. Both Simon and Kyle started arguing too, saying ‘its against the rules’ and ‘its unfair to everyone else who's waiting’. You had no idea what they were going on about and you didn't have the mental capacity to try to figure it out. You just wanted to cook dinner in peace.

“Can you all please go argue somewhere else, I have dinner to make”, you raise your voice to get their attention. They all look down to floor or somewhere on the walls acting like they were schoolboys being scolded by a teacher.

“Sorry luv…didn't come all the way here to disturb you.” Simon is the first to move to take the ingredients off your hands as he sets them on the counter. He gets you settled on a stool beside the counter telling you to rest, that they'll take care of the dinner from here.

“What am I supposed to do then?” You watch as they put aside their feelings and get working together to prep whatever is needed for dinner.

“Just relax you've already done so much”, Gaz pats your head as he passes you by to gather something from the pantry.

“If ye really want tae do somethin’ ye can help me decorate these Christmas cookies”, Soap brings out a tray cookies from their hiding spot. You wonder when he made them considering how busy everyone was yesterday. He grabs a cookie decorating kit from a cupboard dropping the icing tubs on the large counter opposite to the stove where Simon is searing the roast. Soap gently grabs your stool pulling your weight with ease to his side.

The cookies are slightly burnt and lopsided but you could tell Soap had tried his best. You begin piping the icing on the odd shapes while sneakily eating bits that break off with Soap swatting at you from time to time. It was a nice atmosphere where everyone worked together. You catch your eyes drifting to your captain every time he brushes past you. Watching him roll up his sleeves had your mouth going dry. He definitely caught you ogling because he had a smug look on his face every time you two made eye contact. You could tell the others weren't happy about your reaction to Price after he had almost kissed you on the lips. By the looks of it. Price may be winning the bet they had created. Surprisingly no one tried sneaking a kiss from you again.

The next few hours go by without a hitch and by the evening the table was set and you all were enjoying dinner. You crack Christmas crackers between eachother. You laugh as Gaz grabs all the paper hats refusing to share any with Soap. You watch as he struggles to keep them all on his head while eating his dinner. And Price sneaking a few off when he wasn't looking. You didn't end up winning any of the little prizes but Ghost gifts you all the items he wins placing them in a pile beside your dinner plate. It was very lovely dinner. It had your heart feeling all warm and fuzzy. Like you had a family here away from home.

You could see Soap grumbling toward the end when everyone was having dessert. He still hadn't got a kiss from you yet and you could tell it was bothering him. So as you all make your way to Price's office to open presents and have a glass of some well deserved expensive alcohol you keep your eyes peeled for some mistletoe. For different reasons this time.

You spot one hidden in the corner of the hallway, not thinking you slow down your steps to match Soap as everyone walks ahead. He gives you a questioning look as you stop and so does he. You gently push him towards the corner. He's so confused you end up laughing at his odd expressions. He goes to open his mouth but before he could say anything you place the first kiss on his forehead, the next on his two cheeks, then his nose. By this point everyone else has turned to face you two. You place another kiss on his nose. As he gives you his broadest smile. You watch Soap fistbump the air, as you laugh at his reaction to you kissing him.

“One more for the win, please! One more for the win!”, he practically begs you. You think about it for a moment as you eye everyone else. You see the playful jealousy in their eyes. Gaz and Ghost make a run for it to get you away from the mistletoe to stop Soap from winning the bet between them.

“Don’t!”, Both Gaz and Ghost shout at you. But it's too late. Your lips are already grazing Soaps' jawline with a smile on your face.

“Fuck yeah!! That means I win the bet!”, Soap practically crushes you in a hug as he hauls you away from the mistletoe so neither Gaz or Ghost could steal a final kiss from you. He places you beside the captain as he runs away from Gaz and Ghost who are chasing him to the office.

Your laughter is cut short as you feel very familiar lips on your ear.

“Such a naughty sergeant, you'll be punished for taking my win away from me”, you gasp as Price growls low in your ear. You don't get much time to think because as quick as he came he also left you standing there as he followed the boys.

Every nerve endings was set alight as you entered the office to find things relatively calm. Apart from Soap brandishing a very triumphant look and boasting about his win.

Your eyes meet Prices, he has such a devilish smirk on his face. Like he's about to pounce on you any second now. He probably would have if he wasn't interrupted in the kitchen. You turn away immediately not being able to hold his heated gaze. Preferring to look at the decorated office instead. Price sat on his plush chair as everyone else found a place to settle in his office. You decide to walk over to where Gaz is seated to squeeze in beside him. He places an arm around you immediately bringing you closer to his side complaining as to why you had to go make Soap win. Ghost goes around handing everyone their respective gifts. Before settling beside Soap.

You watch everyone open their gifts with excitement. There were thank you and kisses exchanged between them. You're a little more aware than usual. A little more alert after Price's last comment. You still couldn't get that almost kiss out of your head. You watch as they hug and kiss each. It didn't seem so friendly to you anymore. It didn't seem like friends having a laugh. They were like kisses exchanged between lovers. You watch them more closely as everything clicks into place.

They were…. together…like… all four of them. They were in a relationship. But now that had you questioning every encounter with the four men. On when and how they would flirt with you. How their hands always found themselves on your body somehow. How they would find any excuse to get rid of people hitting on you. Were they flirty like that with everyone? No…you knew they weren't. So why you?

Your brought out of you deep thoughts as Gaz crushes you with a embrace so tight you think he might be trying to crack your bones but he lets go just as quickly to get up and remove his shirt. You look at him shocked only to realise he was putting on the jumper you had made him. You cringe at your awful knitting but Gaz doesn't seem to notice at all. Showing it off to everyone in the room that you had gifted him a handmade jumper. You glance around the room to see slight jealousy at the handmade gift but that's quickly replaced by thank you as they open their own presents. Soap particularly happy with his Scottish flag scotch glass.

You don't realise until everyone is looking at you that you haven't open the nicely wrapped box sitting in your lap. You make eye contact with Price to find his eyes to have softened compared to before. You work your hand on the wrapping paper making sure to open it with care. The small black leather box sits in your palm. You glance at them one last time before opening the box to find a ring…well not a ring exactly…it was on a necklace so a pendant. You smile thanking them for their gift as you remove the chain from the box…

Price gives Soap a knowing look. As Gaz hugs Ghost's shoulders from behind his chair. You're about to put the necklace on but Soaps hand stops you midway placing the necklace back in its box. You look at him confused before silently asking for an explanation for his actions as he kneels before you.

“Since ah won the bet, the honour was given tae me tae ask ye this question. Would...ye consider…being ours?”, he looks at you with so much adoration.

“Being yours…?”, you look at all of them and they all held the same look in their eyes. “But you have each other…you don't need…you shouldn't..want…me”, you watch his face fall slightly at your words before recovering.

“But I do…we all do…we can't help thinking about ye when ye're away. Can't help getting jealous when someone flirts with ye. Can't help want tae be close tae ye all the time…We can take things slow…”, he looks at you for your reaction. But you're deep in thought fidgeting with the ring on the chain.

“It doesn't have tae be all at once. Ye can get used tae the idea”, he looks at you hopefully as you glance at everyone else. Your eyes lock on Price who also looks at you longingly.

“So I'll be…dating? All of you?”, you watch them all nod in eagerness. “And you're all dating each other too..??”, they all nod again confirming their relationship status. You watch them hold their breaths as you decide on your answer.

“That explains all the touchiness”, you laugh as you play with the ring on the chain. On closer inspection you see engravings on the inner band. You bring it closer to your eyes to see the initials of the four men neatly engraved on the inside. It made your heart melt. They seemed serious in wanting to be with you. It explains all the flirting and tender touches. Soap watches you carefully, still kneeling at your feet waiting for an answer.

“It's a bit overwhelming….to be with four men... all at once…but I-I....really like you all…I'd like to see..where this goes…”, you feel heat rise to your neck and cheeks when the words leave your mouth.

Not a second later Soap has you in his arms peppering your lips and face in small kisses and thank yous. Gaz and Ghost come up to you immediately as well taking the chance to hold you close to their chests. You return their warm embraces with eagerness of your own. Ghost helps you place the necklace around your neck as they all take chances to kiss you gently trying their best not to overwhelm you as you laugh from joy.

Price stays in his chair watching everything unfold. He has adoration written all over his face but there's also the underlying lust and desire you felt in the kitchen and then again in the hallway.

“Well now that's settled…come here love. Over my knee…A naughty sergeant like you needs to be punished for taking sides.”

Copyright © by ethereal-night-fairy. 2023. All Rights Reserved. Writing not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or use with AI technologies.

[maeby-cursed]

thinking about new year’s eve with toji fushiguro.

the year ends on his birthday, so he’s not accustomed to being celebrated at all. he spends the day sleeping in and paying no mind to the festivities that are taking place outside. he wakes up as he always does and works as he always does and maybe watches some tv before the clock strikes twelve.

except this year ends on a different note. because you’re there. 

it’s eleven forty five and he’s lounging on a sofa, staring at the tv with dazed eyes, when you come in, humming a song he’s not familiar with – one that wishes him a happy birthday. you’re holding a small pastry in your hands with a lit candle on top and the fire of it makes you look like a haloed angel. 

he sits up on the sofa, and you sit in front of him.

“make a wish,” you whisper. and he knows what to answer. 

this. this, forever.

he blows out the candle and you clap a little with a soft smile, and for a split second he forgets about all those shit birthdays and tattered hopes; for a split second he celebrates it all at once: turning five and eleven and twenty-three and thirty-one. all in one blow.

he takes the dessert and splits it in two brusquely – the only way he knows how to do things – before offering you half. you take it with a smile.

soon, it’s eleven fifty-nine and the world looks a little brighter than it did last year at this time. there’s hope. there’s a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach akin to a small child’s illusion. there’s a happiness he never thought he’d get back.

the clock goes

three . . . 

two . . . 

one .

and with a kiss, the new year starts.

tagging ! @yunymphs + @sugusat0us (biggest maeji supporters ♡)

[thebearer]

“are sugar plums real?”

carmen frowns, looking over at you in the bed. you lying next to him, scrolling through tiktok, brows creased in question.

“what?”

“sugar plums. like from the nutcracker. are they a real thing?” you repeat your question.

carmen’s lips curls in a grin. “yeah. they’re not very good.”

“but they’re real?”

“yeah. you want me to make you some tomorrow?” carmen’s brow lifts.

“maybe.” you match his smile. “could you make me something cool with it?”

“sure, baby.” carmen rolls over on his side, hand brushing over your hip. “a sugar plum and brie bake?”

“sounds good to me, chef.” you giggle.

[greykolla-art]

I love your art so so so much! For an OFMD suggestion, how about Ed waking up beside Stede after they've reconciled and not believing Stede is real?

Oh your MIND! I wanna kiss it!🌹

I was watching Please Like Me (s2 e9) and a character said something similar to this, it just felt very cute and real. ❤️

[ponderingmoonlight]

hi! first i love your writing. it’s so amazing

since it’s getting into the christmas season, i was wondering if you’d want to do something with choso experiencing christmas season things with a partner for the first time. like decorating a tree, kissing under mistletoe and all that kinda stuff?

thank you so much for all your insanely amazing writing!

Aww this was absolutely fun and cute to write, I really hope you like it! Thank you for your request and kind words love 🤍

Teaching Choso about Christmas and kissing underneath the mistletoe

Pairing: Choso x reader

Word Count: 1,1k

Synopsis: Even though Choso thinks he's seen it all by now, the idea of Christmas just doesn't reach him until you show him the tradition of kissing underneath a mistletoe...

Warnings: Christmas fluff coming your way! This was such a fun request and I really hope it gets you into Christmas mood! Would you like to read more Christmas special content? Let me know in the comments or get in my inbox <3

„And…why exactly are you putting those strange balls onto that tree?” Choso questions while eyeing you up and down critically.

Within the last few months, you were able to teach your precious boyfriend a lot of things he missed as a cursed womb. Everything was new to him: having feelings, getting close to each other, ordering ice cream. But somehow, you actually managed to make a decent human being out of him.

Well, at least until now.

“That is called a Christmas tree and those ‘strange balls’ are called ornaments. We do that every year around that time. Look at how stunning it is”, you explain with excitement glowing in your eyes.

Choso truly loves seeing you like that, wearing that strange sweater and a gorgeous smile on your face. But somehow, this whole concept of Christmas doesn’t make any sense to him. Why would you celebrate the birth of a single child for more than 2000 years? And why do you have to decorate a tree to do so?

He watches as you carefully place another ornament on the tree, clapping your hands in joy. Oh, you look so lovely in the dim candle light with your slightly redden cheeks. His heart begins to jump up and down his chest all over again, eyes not able to tear away from your beautiful sight. If it makes you happy, he’ll celebrate Christmas every day.

“Stop looking at me like that”, you mutter all of the sudden, hiding your face behind your hands.

“Why would I ever stop looking at you?” he remarks along with tilting his head.

He crosses the room in an instant, his hands gently removing yours from your delicate face.

“You told me to tell you about my feelings. And right now, I feel captivated by your sight.”

Your heart skips a beat, shy eyes staring up at the man you learned to love after Shibuya, the man who stood out to you the second you met him. Choso Kamo is way more than a reincarnated curse, way more than a puppet of someone random. No, he is your boyfriend, the love of your life. Never in a million years you would have thought that you’ll stand here like this, him staring deeply into the ocean of your eyes while you can’t help but hold onto his strong arms for support.

God, how much you love that man. And how much you adore to teach him every little thing about Christmas.

“You know what that is?”, you question innocently.

Your fingers hold onto what looks like a branch.

“I now know what a branch looks like”, he remarks dryly.

“This isn’t just any branch.”

Carefully, you tie it to a hook above the both of you, your hands wrapping themselves around his. You smell so lovely, like vanilla and dough from the cookies you baked earlier. The room suddenly feels so warm and welcoming, making his heart feel as light as a feather. Seeing you like this truly makes him melt away in an instant.

“This is called a mistletoe. It’s not entirely clear why, but this branch is a symbol of love. It is tradition to kiss underneath a mistletoe whenever you have the chance to do so. Especially men should steal a kiss from a woman when standing under it. Otherwise it brings you bad luck”, you explain gently.

“I am allowed to kiss you wherever and whenever I want. But since I wanted to do it anyway, I’m more than glad to follow this tradition.”

You hold your breath, his lips pressing themselves onto yours. Sparks fly, it seems like the world around you fades away. It’s only you and him underneath the mistletoe. You, him and his mouth brushing against yours. Instinctively you wrap your arms around his neck, caress his back gently, get lost in the feeling of his body against yours. God, his smell is so intoxicating, the way he holds you by your waist sends shivers down your spine. Never in your life would you have imagined to love anyone as dearly as you love Choso Kamo. It’s almost a miracle, you and him standing here together. An incarnated cursed womb and a jujutsu sorcerer. But somehow, you made it. And oh does it feel right.

“Is there anything else you want to show me? Maybe another tradition that includes stealing a kiss from you?” he mumbles against your lips.

“Actually…There’s something I want to show you. Just stay here, okay?”

He stares at you in confusion as you run up the stairs into the bedroom, your giggling filling the air with nothing but happiness. What are you up do? Choso shakes his head to himself with a small smile forcing itself onto his otherwise cold features. It doesn’t matter what makes you this happy. The only thing that counts for him is your breath-taking smile.

“Turn off the lights!”, you shout towards him, only your head sticking out of the door.

“Turning of the lights…But why?”, he replies with a frown.

Even though it makes you this light-hearted, Christmas seems to be a mystery for him still. What is up with all those lights, the different smells, all the things you hung up in the entirety of the house before? And why would he turn of the lights now?

“You’ll see, just do it!”

He signs to himself before doing as told. Maybe one tradition includes you getting naked after all…

You storm out of the room, holding what looks like a blinking sweater over your head in pure delight. Oh no, what is this about again? He still has to get used to the knitted sweater you’re wearing right now, but this thing? It literally glows in the dark, blinking so hard that he has to squint his eyes in order to see it clearly. Please, let it be another decoration, a strange tradition maybe-

“This one’s for you”, you announce proudly.

Choso isn’t even able to protest since you’re already pushing his head into the tiny hole, pressing his dark hair roughly into his face.

There he stands, blinking like the Christmas tree in front of him in this scratchy thing.

“The mistletoe was definitely more my taste”, he comments dryly.

“Oh, you’ll get used to it! Are you in the mood for learning some more about Christmas?”

He takes a step back while scratching his back.

“No, I think that’s enough for today…”, he mutters.  

Tags:  @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez

[pupkashi]

This might be a little self-indulgent prompt because I’m currently in my Christmas jammies but imagine Satoru seeing you for the first time in your Christmas elf pajamas that you wear every year

ANON THIS IS O CUTE 😭😭😭😭 no because i got my first matching pj set this year and I’m SO excited to wear them 😭😭😭

i can imagine him already unpacking the ornaments to decorate the tree and you’re like “hold on i have to get in uniform,” with the most serious look on your face.

he’s just standing them dumbfounded, shiny ornament in his hand as you walk into your shared bedroom, energizing minutes later clad in your matching christmas jammies, fuzzy socks with polar bears in Santa hats on your feet.

“alright I’m ready,” you smile, satoru’s mouth is open a bit, a smile on his face and eyes sparkling as he takes you in.

he didn’t think it was possible, but he loved you more now than he did before. “you look so-” he begins, “silly?” you cut him off, he shakes his head immediately.

“adorable!” he exclaims, setting the ornament down and taking two king strides before swooping you into his arms. “god i love you so much,” he giggles, pressing kisses all over your face, “Santa’s little helper,” he laughs, setting you down, “you know what it’s fitting! considering how short you are.”

you gasp at him, smacking his arm playfully, “you’re just tall! anyone to you is short,” you huff. satoru pressing a kiss to your pouty lips, smiling when throw your arms over his shoulders, fingers playing with the tuft of snowy hair at the nape of his neck (he’s glad his hair was overgrown if meant you’d play with it like this).

“we’ll now i just feel left out,” he sighs dramatically, “just ‘cause I’m tall i cant have christmas jammies? i cant be an elf with my lover?” satoru could’ve been an actor, an Oscar nominee at that.

there’s already tears pricking his eyes when you laugh at him, pulling away from his embrace and grabbing the ornament he had set down. “I got you a matching set, in already on the bed.”

he would absolutely light up, giddy as he ran into the bedroom, changing faster than he ever had and emerging in a matching set, “now I’m ready to decorate!”

he never went another Christmas without a matching pj set, always making sure the two of you matched during the tree decoration.

[mrsjellymunson]

S.A.N.T.A. BABY

[A.KA. Stupid And Nasty Tinsel-Related Activities]

A Festive 5+1 Eddie Munson Fic

Summary: 5+1. Five times reader embarrasses herself in front of Eddie, and one time she doesn’t.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

WC: ~10.5k (oops)

CW: 🔞 18+ MDNI!, SMUT, NSFW. Strangers to sort-of-enemies to lovers. Drinking, smoking, Eddie and reader call each other nicknames, loads of embarrassing situations, swearing, suggestive language, implied birth control, description of and discussion about a sex toy, flagrant and unnecessary use of the number 69, reader has a tattoo but it’s not essential to the story so you can ignore it if you want, bondage fantasy involving fairy lights, lap riding/dry humping, Eddie has tattoos and intimate piercings, fingering, unprotected p-in-v (always wrap it irl!), aftercare, fluff, the Upside Down hasn’t happened. I imagine reader & Eddie to be mid-late 20s and it might be the 90s, but hopefully I left it ambiguous enough that you can choose. I tried to keep reader’s appearance neutral, though I’m still new at this and I may have missed things - let me know if you spot anything (likewise typos or missed tags, etc). The elf outfit in the pic is for costume illustration only and does not indicate reader’s ethnicity or appearance.

A/N: Written for @bettyfrommars’ & @allthingsjoeq’s festive prompt party (thank you, guys!); I decided to smoosh five prompts 6, 8, 12, 14 & 15 together to create… whateverthehellthismutantthingis 😆 It’s my first 5+1, and my first festive fic, please let me know how I did! 🎄 I’ve taken artistic license with the format - if I’ve understood it, it’s way too long for a standard 5+1, and I don’t think they usually have 4+k of unnecessary smut at the end (‘What do you mean, Kittie? Smut is always necessary!’). I couldn’t bring myself to cut it because I’m a deviant and to paraphrase the song, it’s my fic and I’ll add what I want to 😂 Enjoy! 🥂🍷🎁

Christmas was never your favourite time of year. You suppose that your early Christmasses were probably happy, but once your parents split and family politics came into play, the season just became less enjoyable all round. These days your mom and stepdad tended to use the extended break to visit your brother in California, and this year will be the third in a row that you’ve been left to your own devices. Not that you couldn’t go with them, but you just felt a little out of place and in the way, him with his scrapbook-perfect family and kids, you with your alternative interests and a dress sense that your stepdad once described as, “Far too much black for a family dinner. We’re not the Addams Family, you know”.

This year, though, you were optimistic. It’s your first year away at college in Indianapolis, and your roommate, Robin, who you get on outrageously well with, has invited you to spend the holidays not too far away in her home town, Hawkins.

Plus, Robin has taken it upon herself to, in her words, ‘“Christmas Carol the shit out of you”, after you’d told her about your disdain for the holiday season and that Santa stood for ‘Stupid And Nasty Tinsel-related Activities’. She’d declared that this year you’d have the “Best. Christmas. EVERRR!”, and she’s making good on it, despite the promise being made months ago when you were both soaked in tequila at the end of orientation week.

It’s going fairly well so far. You’ve met a couple of Robin’s friends, a nice girl called Nancy and Robin’s ex Vickie, and together you’ve had a shopping trip, a lunch out and a girls’ night in. You’re optimistic that the rest of her friends will be just as friendly and welcoming. Next on the ‘Best Christmas Ever’ agenda? Seeing a local band at a local bar…

“Honestly, they’re, like, really, really good!”

“Really, Robs? This band that your friends started in high school are so good that they’re still playing dive bars in their home town?”

The bar is dingy and grubby, but it’s packed, Robin insisting it’s because the band is great, but you suspect it has more to do with the cheap beer prices.

You’re not averse to live entertainment, you just prefer places with a bit more space. More ambience, less… sweat? Ambiguous stickiness??

Half a beer in, you make the excuse that you need some air, not admitting you’re actually hoping to find someone to bum a cigarette off outside, feeling your most recent attempt at quitting is already on seriously shaky ground.

There’s already a couple of guys around the side of the building when you exit the front door, one in a torn flannel and another, his back to you, in a heavier-looking jacket.

You recognise Flannel as the bartender, a lanky, but not unattractive, somewhat worried-looking guy with a grungy haircut and ripped Clash t-shirt, who’s just finishing his cigarette and flicking it to the floor. As he leaves to go back inside he offers a cheery half-salute to his smoking partner and a, “See you inside, dude.” You assume the other guy must be a regular, and from the subtle glimpses you get as he flicks his ash, he’s about halfway through his cigarette.

Whilst he’s not looking you sneakily take in the view (your excuse being that you are a tourist here, after all). He’s tall, dressed all in black, with broad shoulders draped in worn-in black leather, long dark curls falling about them. You can’t determine the exact colour in the poor lighting of the bar’s neon sign, but they look shiny and well cared for, rather than lank and grimy like so many of your college buddies seem to think is the fashionable way to do it these days (ugh).

Trailing your eyes down his back, you see the hem of his jacket half-obscures a black leather belt that’s just visible sitting on his slim hips. It’s studded with silver rivets and adorned with a variety of draping silver chains that jingle at the slightest movement.

Well-fitting, dark black jeans cover his legs, and a scruffy pair of heavy black combat boots complete the look. They're unlaced at the top and casually flare out, his jeans crumpling, effortlessly stylishly, in the tops.

The belt chains catch your attention again as he shifts from one foot to the other, making them swing, drawing your eyes to the seat of his jeans and showcasing a cute, tight, rounded pair of butto-oh! He’s turning around! Shit, shit, okay, be cool, and definitely don’t look like you were just checking out his ass…

He looks at you with surprise, he obviously hadn’t heard you come out. He’s taken slightly aback, but manages to greet you with a quick, “Hey.”

You reply, eloquently, “Hey.”

Smooth.

Leather Jacket gets out his lighter.

“You, uh, smokin’?”

“I was kinda hoping to bum one, actually. I’m supposed to be quitting, but you know how it is when you get around bars and booze.”

You shrug a little, suddenly feeling sheepish, and more than a little selfish when you realise your presumption.

“Oh yeah, I sure do. Think I’ve tried quitting about, what, five times now?”

He chuckles a little, shaking a stick out of the packet he retrieves from inside his jacket, offering it to you.

“You need a light?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, thanks.”

He leans in to spark his lighter, and you’re briefly engulfed by the scent of him. Old leather, hints of a musky, spicy cologne, whiskey, clean sweat, and, of course, cigarette smoke. It feels like a warm hug, but something else too, something more primal, enticing.

You notice his hands as he holds his lighter close to your face. They’re big, strong-looking and veined, his fingers adorned with chunky silver rings that glint and twinkle in the faint neon glow.

It all catches you off guard. You pull back quickly once your cigarette is lit, not ready to explore that kind of sensation right now.

He’s turned sideways to you again, leaning his back against the side wall of the bar. He smirks in your direction, a dimple popping in the cheek nearest to you, and you feel a little heat rise up your neck.

His gaze flows over your form, taking you in from top to bottom. Is he checking you out?

“I, uh, I like your boots.” He nods down towards your feet, flicking a little ash from his cigarette off to the side furthest from you.

You automatically glance down, like some kind of idiot who didn’t dress themselves less than an hour ago.

Sheesh, way to make an impression on the locals…

“Oh, thanks!”

You smile, genuinely pleased. You’re wearing your favourite pair, laced and buckled black leather New Rocks with a chunky, steel-coloured metal heel. You know the style doesn’t have universal appeal, which is of course part of the reason you love them, but it’s nice to have your taste appreciated by someone as cu- erm, as friendly as he is.

“I haven’t seen you around here before. You new in town or sumthin’?”

“Yeah, kinda passing through, I guess. I’m just here for the holidays, hookin’ up with a friend.”

He nods in acknowledgment, curls bouncing softly around his face.

You continue, “Apparently I’ve been promised the ‘best Christmas ever’, and they think they’re going to achieve that by bringing me to this divey bar to see some schoolfriend in a lame-ass metal cover band. I mean, god, no offence, but this town is hardly Seattle. I can’t imagine they’re gonna be Nirvana-quality, right?”

The guy snorts through his nose and then genuinely laughs. “Yeah, they probably are shit. Towns like this are full of wannabe rockstars straight outta high school, y’know?” You don’t notice how his lips purse as he suppresses a grin, as he continues, “Singers are the worst, always such assholes. Second only to guitarists, of course.”

You answer with an enthusiastic, “I know, right?!”, thinking back to the musicians you’ve dated since high school and how they were all convinced they were destined to be the next Eddie Van Halen or Steven Tyler. Thinking of a couple of guys in particular as you take a drag of your cigarette, as you exhale you mutter, “Christ, guitarists really are the pits.”

He snorts, smiling again, then drops his finished cigarette to the ground, crushing it out with the sole of his heavy boot. “At least with all their equipment and shit it makes them easy to spot.”

You gift him a smile and a small nod. “Yeah, I guess it does.”

“I’m heading back inside. Maybe I’ll see you later?” He quirks an eyebrow at his last comment.

“Yeah, maybe.” As he moves to open the door you add, ”Hey, thanks for the smoke!”

He turns back to you, his distractingly broad grin now fully on display, half-shouting back as he moves through the doorway into the bustling interior, “No problem, all you have to do is ask. I’ll see you later, Boots!”

You finish your smoke and get inside just in time to get to your seat, a tall stool opposite Robin around a high table, your back to the stage, as the band start up.

There’s a few complicated beats from the drums as the guy behind them warms up, and the bass and rhythm guitars thrum a few notes, garnering whistles and cheers from the crowd.

You wait for the cliché of the singer coming up to the mic and introducing the band, but what you actually hear is a low, self-assured, somewhat recognisable voice, that’s both commanding and sultry, that drawls, “You know who we are.”

Suddenly there’s a burst of impressive guitar work and drums, and the crowd erupts as the room is saturated with the opening chords to Black Sabbath’s ‘War Pigs’.

You’re impressed, and intrigued. This isn’t the ‘dodgy 80’s covers schoolkid band’ you were expecting. These guys sound… accomplished.

You turn on your stool, and notice a subtly familiar form at the mic. Less bulky as he’s no longer wearing the leather jacket, a ripped band tee now showing off his pale arms and clavicles, and black ink that you can’t make out adorning solid biceps and veined forearms. Guitar in hand, confident, brash, cute. Chains dangling from a studded belt, silver rings glinting, hair flying as he flicks his head, commanding the stage, readying himself to sing the first lines…

Oh shit…

The band’s cover of ‘War Pigs’ is faster than the original, and they give it their own twist, making it heavier and grittier. After the (irritatingly brilliant) guitar solo Leather Jacket Band Guy even throws in a few lines from Deck The Halls, the audience going wild, and joining in enthusiastically when the ‘Oh Lord yeah’ is replaced with a ‘Fa-la-la’.

The rest of their set is a mix of covers and originals, all in a similar, heavy style, and as they finish to a rapturous throng you realise, flustered, that you couldn’t tear your eyes from the stage the whole time. Robin totally notices. You even let her get in a cheery, “Told ya so!”, as you reluctantly admit they weren’t completely terrible.

You spot the frontman (singer and guitarist, cue internal facepalm) jump down off the low stage, and you feel a little uneasy as you see him start heading in your direction.

You’re at peak embarrassment and can’t bear the thought of having to face him after what you said outside. You hadn’t even heard them play and you dissed the fuck out of them, him specifically. What makes it worse is that they were actually really good. The last thing you need is to have that thrown back in your face, in front of Robin, by their cocky lead guy.

Suddenly you want Spontaneous Human Combustion to be a real thing, turn you to ash so your only presence would be scuffed up on those heavy, unlaced combat boots, going unnoticed and carried out on everyone’s soles into the chilly night. But science and physics are apparently not willing to defy themselves for you this evening. Bastards.

Quickly, you get off your stool, mumbling something about needing the bathroom, and head off in a random direction, in your haste to escape not even asking where it is.

You chance a glance over one shoulder. Oh god, he’s heading straight for you…

As you stumble about in the crowd, you notice a free seat next to a guy at the bar. You hardly register that his coiffed hair and polo shirt don’t quite fit the vibe of the place, so desperate are you to build an alternative narrative that doesn’t involve the guy whose band you just dissed coming to talk to you. You’d said you were visiting a friend, he’s not to know it wasn’t a boyfriend, right? If he sees you with someone he’ll back off and leave you alone, right?? Surely he wouldn’t confront you with a potential Defending Your Honour™️ fight on the table. Right???

So, that’s the plan.

A really good, foolproof one? Um, no. But Band Guy is moving through the crowd, and you’ve gotta do something, fast.

You reach the bar.

“Hey, could you do me a favour real quick? A creepy guy’s been hitting on me, and I need to give him the message that I’m not interested. If I buy you a drink, will you act like you’re my boyfriend for, like, the next 30 seconds?”

He turns to you, and you notice his features. Golden skin, chiselled jaw, stunning hazel eyes, hair to rival the hottest supermodels’, a scattering of moles that look like constellations. Goddamn, he’s pretty. What is it with this bar? Is everyone inside it cute? Why have you never been to Hawkins before??

You give him a pleading look, and tentatively hold out one hand towards where his is resting on his thigh, hoping he’ll take it.

“Well, for a sweet thing like you, how could I say no to that tempting double offer?”

He smiles then, full and beaming, and you almost slip off your stool. A warm palm comes to cup over yours, and you manage to blurt out an order to the barman, saying, “Two of whatever he’s having.”

Just then, Band Guy reaches you. You do your best to swoon at Polo Shirt as your drinks get delivered, lifting yours and clinking it against his with a, “Hey, sweetheart, thanks for bringing me here”.

“Oh, I didn’t realise you were here with someone tonight.”

“Yeah, this is the friend I was telling you about. We’re spending the holidays together. Isn’t that right, sweets?”

Band Guy purses his lips, you hope in consternation, but it’s whatever, you just want him to leave you alone to stew in your mortification.

He backs up half a step, saying, “Well, I guess I’ll leave you to it then.”

Success!

Just as you think your devious plan has worked, Band Guy turns to Polo Shirt, slaps his open palm against his shoulder a couple of times, and saunters off, with a, “Nice to see you, Steve-o. Just checkin’ you're wanting a lift back in the van with the guys, like usual?”

Oh. Oh god. They know each other?!

He turns away, smirking back briefly in your direction to fling a casual, “I’ll see you around, Boots”, before continuing his path to the other end of the bar. You see him greet Flannel with a high five followed by a bro handshake, the latter making exaggerated air guitar movements and clearly congratulating him on a great performance.

If cringing caused bodily trauma you’d be in the ER by now, most likely on life support. What are the chances of embarrassing yourself all to hell in front of a cute guy you’ve only just met, twice in one night?

Also, wait, you totally didn’t just admit that you find him cute. Nope. No siree. Nah. Niet. Definitely not.

Stupid Robin convinced you to take this stupid job in the stupid mall and now you’re stuck here smiling this stupid smile at all the stupid local kids in this stupid elf costume.

Stupid striped tights, stupid short skirt, stupid tight green tunic, stupid fluffy collar.

And yeah, okay, stupid self-induced hangover from stupid drinks last night thanks to stupid Robin’s stupid friends. Actually, they were all really nice, especially ‘Steve-o’ and the barman, Jonathon, neither of whom mentioned your embarrassing faux pas with Band Guy, which makes them total heroes in your book. Plus, Band Guy mercifully gave you a wide berth for the rest of the night by doing Band Stuff™️, so that was a win too.

At least the dress code for this gig stated ‘black footwear’, so you could wear your own boots. You’d never admit it out loud, but you think the combination of the red and white striped tights with your chunky, alternative boots actually looks kinda cute. It’s just as well, because you’d packed light (you and Robin joking that so long as you had your ”Pills and panties” you were good to go), and hadn’t brought any alternatives.

You’ve been at this for a couple of days already, beaming artificially at the kids as you try to corral them into some semblance of an organised line, and handing out stickers and treat bags for the ones who’ve seen Santa, putting your best singsong voice on as you ask for what feels like the millionth time, “So, what did you ask Santa for?”, and, “Have you been good this year?”

Your face has begun to ache with the effort of all the smiling, although the cheery mall Santa (a big, friendly guy called John? Jack?) takes up most of the slack, with a voice deep and gravelly enough to control even the worst-behaved little shits. You hope his day job uses it, it would be a shame for a voice like that to go to waste. He should probably be in sports, or acting, or law enforcement or something.

You can’t deny the money is coming in handy though. It’s reliably supporting your holiday booze habit, and you’ve even treated yourself to a couple of Christmas treats, some silver skull jewellery from a surprisingly well-stocked accessory shop, and something more, um, personal from the ‘specialist interest’ shop you’d found hidden away at the back of the mall’s upper level. The nice lady who worked there, Karen, even kindly offered to drop off your purchase at your staff locker later today.

You’re on the later shift, so Santa’s already here, and as you make your way out to the grotto area (which is essentially just a few old stage props surrounded by a few giant polystyrene candy canes; you surmise this might be one of the first years they’ve done this) you’re greeted by a predictable, “Ho ho ho!”. But today it’s a different voice than usual. Still deep, still booming, but not the one you’re used to.

As you round the glittery candy cane on the corner, the deep baritone gives way to a much higher, cheekier pitch.

“Ho, ho- hoooooly shiiit, I’d recognise those boots anywhere!”

Oh no… It can’t be…

“Heeey, Boots! I didn’t know you’d be one of my little helpers today!”

Even behind the fake beard you can see the smugness spread across his face.

You stop in your tracks, hands coming up to your face in a vain attempt to shield your embarrassed self from the impending, and, you’ll admit, completely justified, teasing.

Realising you can’t hide from it, you huff out a breath and amble over to him. He looks way too comfortable sitting on that ornate throne, like he’s used to such a position, somehow…

As you move closer you see that even beneath the tacky acrylic costuming, he still looks cute (damn him). He’s foregone the white wig and opted to display his own locks, chestnut curls cascading over his shoulders, and the white faux fur of his hat and beard create a subtle frame around his eyes. You observe their colour properly for the first time, and even in the harsh fluorescent lights of the mall they look like swirling pools of liquid cacao, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen anything quite like them before. They’re fixed on you as you walk to him.

You plonk down on a fabric-covered hay bale next to the throne. There’s no line of kids waiting as yet, and you’re relieved you can get this next part done without too much of an audience. Deep breath, pull off the bandaid, or whatever that stupid phrase is.

“Listen, about last night. I’m really sorry. I not only stole your smokes but also dissed your band before I’d even heard you, and that wasn’t cool. And that thing with Steve at the bar? God, you must think I’m such a loser. And, I know you probably couldn’t give two pebbly shits about what I think right now, but you guys are actually really good.”

He turns to you, looking down his nose and through his lashes at you.

“Hey, don’t sweat it, sweets. I did kinda bait you into that first part. And at the bar? That was… creative. I actually thought it was pretty funny.” Smirking, nodding and turning his face to the front again, he continues, “And for the record, we do play other places, not just this so-not-Seattle town.”

You risk a glance at him. The Santa suit is obviously too big for him, the collar wide enough to show off his pale throat for a moment before he turns back to you and the comically-fluffy beard obscures it again. You can see the outline of his taut, muscular thighs under the loose faux velvet of his pants, and his boots (those boots) are worn just like they were last night, unlaced at the top, casually stylish, the red fabric pooling around the calf and ankle. And to finish it off, there’s what appears to be a large throw cushion stuffed down his front.

It turns out he’s covering for (Jim!) Hopper, who’s apparently the local police chief (nailed it) and has been called out to check on some weird occurrences at an old research facility on the other side of town.

Band Guy Santa continues, sarcastically, “Pfft. Providing the town of Hawkins with security and safety instead of performing the frankly, essential, public service of dicking about in a Santa suit. Inconsiderate, right?”

“Yeah, totally”, you giggle.

“The organisers heard from Hop that I was somewhat… theatrical, so they asked me to fill in.”

You remember how theatrical he looked whilst on stage, and you feel your throat heat up, hoping he won’t notice you subtly pulling at your collar with a finger, or see the perspiration appearing on your décolletage.

“So, you may wreak your revenge now, sweetheart. I’m not exactly in a position to defend my sartorial choices right now, am I?”, he says as he gestures to himself, sweeping a palm up and down his garb. “Gimme your worst.”

You’d feel pretty bad if you laid into him now, not only considering your own current garb but especially with what you’d said last night outside the bar. However, he is giving you an opportunity to even the score for his manipulation, and it would be a shame not to take it. You decide upon a combination of cheekiness and diplomacy. (And not flirty. Definitely not flirty.)

“I dunno, that beard covers most of your face, which obviously does you some favours. But don’t do yourself down, you look… good in red.”

He swallows as you stand to move away from him, and you hardly realise that you’ve rendered him speechless, as you joke, poking at the obvious cushion by his middle,

“Although, I’m totally not buying this padding, you know,”

Suddenly a party of schoolchildren appears from nowhere, and before they get between you and you get too far away to hear, he stammers out, “Uh, I’m Eddie, by the way.”

You half-yell your own name back, adding with a smile,

“It’s nice to meet you. Have fun today, Santa.”

It’s late afternoon and Santa Eddie is on his regulation break. You’re doing your best to herd the over-sugared, post-school crowd into some kind of order, when Mrs Santa (a lovely lady called Claudia) calls your name and says you can go on your break now too, if you want, and to please tell Santa that he needs to get back here and start doling out Christmas wishes.

You jump at the chance for even just a few minutes away from the diminutive hoards (though you could listen to Erica, one kid you do like, diss commercialism and the ethics of lying to kids en masse all afternoon), and make your way to the locker room.

Eddie’s still there, sitting on the central bench, beard pulled down under his chin, and he appears to be holding a package in his hands, though from the look on his face you don’t think it was one he was expecting. As you move closer and peer into the box, you spy the contents, and a bright red, glittery shape becomes visible.

Oh god, no. No-no-noooo…

It’s the order you placed from the shop at the back of the mall, but Karen’s obviously dropped it off next to the wrong locker - Eddie’s is number 69 and yours is 96.

It’s a dildo (of course it is). A Christmas-themed, flexible, long, thick, glittery, red dildo, with a gold lamé ribbon tied artfully around the base.

Eddie’s face is a picture of surprise as he turns to look up at you, eyes and mouth wide and eyebrows practically disappearing into his hairline. He’s holding the packaging, your name visible on the wrapping, nixing any hope you’d had of feigning innocence and pretending you knew nothing about it.

“Uh, I think this is yours. I’m so sorry. I-it was left by my locker and I opened it assuming it was for me, and then I saw your name on it, but by then it was too late…”

He sees you slump down into the bench a few feet away from him, face in your hands. You don’t know him well, but you decide to let him get whatever he wants to say out of his system rather than potentially make everything worse by trying to get him to shut the hell up.

His tone is mocking, but not exactly mean, as he continues,

“It’s a pretty one, really. Y’know, festive. I admire your choice of aesthetics and commitment to the season.

But you know, Boots, if you wanted to feel special inside this Christmas, all you had to do was ask.

Wait, do you also have an Easter-themed one? Is it a rabbit?”

He’s turned to face you now, far too pleased with himself for that final quip. Arrogant bastard.

The tears come in a wave, and you fold in on yourself, trying to hide your face even more. The heat in your cheeks feels about the same temperature as the colour of that fucking dildo.

“Hey, hey. I was only kidding.” He scootches closer to you on the bench. ”Look, there’s nothing wrong with it. Everyone deserves pleasure, it’s healthy. And I get it, Boots, it can be hard for girls to find a guy who actually knows what the fuck they’re doing. And, maybe you don’t even want or need a guy, you just want some special time by yourself, right?”

There’s a short pause, like he could be considering his next choice of words.

“And anyway, I actually think it’s kinda hot…”

This surprises you. You’ve never met any guy who didn’t take the presence of your toy collection as a personal insult.

You risk a glance in his direction, hoping your wet and stinging eyes don’t look as red as they feel. “You really think so?”

“Oh yeah”, he responds, crossing his legs as subtly as he can, shielding his lap. “The one you chose? It’s… sophisticated. The glitter gives it a real nice touch. And,” he drops his voice a little, continuing in an almost-whisper, “I’d love to see what you do with it.” He clears his throat and looks away, finding a convenient patch of plain wall to focus his gaze upon.

Confused, upset, and unable to fathom exactly what’s going on (is this just banter? Or is he flirting? Wait, does he like you??) you grab the box from him and move to stuff it in your locker. Trying to hide the crack in your voice, you call over your shoulder, “Claudia says your break’s over and to get your jolly ass back out there, pronto.”

Oh shit… shitshitSHIT…

Stupid collar, stupid faux fur, stupid cheap zips! Goddammit!

You’re at your locker - the one that should’ve secretly contained your special Xmas gift to yourself - trying to get out of your stupid elf costume, but the zip won’t budge. The top of it is enmeshed amongst the stupid faux fur of your collar, and your frustrated, unsighted and fumbling ministrations appear to be making it worse.

You need help. An empathic soul to come to your aid and diligently untangle you from this costuming hell. But there’s only one other person here, and, even though your last encounter ended better than it could have, he’s still the last person you want to see right now.

Why tonight? Of all nights? How could this happen on the one night where the literal only person left in the entire fucking building is him??

You can only assume you’re on the real Santa’s shit list. Were you really that naughty this year?

Your brain rewards you with a brief, but telling, synopsis of your year so far: smoking blunts behind the library with Robin during study breaks, skinny dipping in a freezing lake on a dare, all that tequila, that brief foray in the back of a Camaro with that guy (Bobby? Billy?). Okay, you were no saint, but this? Come on…

Dejectedly, you drop your chin to your chest and let out a frustrated huff.

Looking miserable, and literally dragging your heels, you shuffle back out to the grotto, steeling yourself for whatever mocking banter Eddie will subject you to this time.

He’s leisurely rearranging the grotto area, and fiddling with the fairy lights behind.

“Hey, Boots. What’re you still doing here?”

Still not looking up, and flicking your eyes everywhere but in his direction, you mumble,

“I, uh, I need your help.”

“What is it? C’mon, you can tell me. We’re quite intimately acquainted now, wouldn’t you say?“

You can hear the smirk in his voice and you want to slap it right off his face. Your response comes out in a rush.

“MyzipisstuckandIcan’tgetoutofthisfuckingcostume, okay?”

“Well, honestly, if you want me to undress you, all you have to do is ask…”

There’s annoyance in your voice as you spit out, “For fuck’s sake Eddie, are you gonna help me or not?”

“Of course, Boots, I’m just messin’ with ya.” His voice drops to an almost-rumble as he instructs, “Turn around for me, yeah?”

His voice is commanding, yet soft and velvety. Parts of your brain turn to marshmallow, and you consider that you’d do almost anything he asked, if he asked you like that.

You do as he requests, your back facing him. You tilt your head down slightly, allowing him better access to the top of the zip, inadvertently also exposing the back of your neck.

He exhales (is it a bit shaky?), and you feel the heat of his breath on your nape, the sensation raising goosebumps along your spine and worrying your legs a little. It’s all you can do to not drop to your knees right there and then. You let out a tiny gasp and try to cover it with a deep swallow.

Eddie works gently on the collar of your garment, fiddling with the fur and disentangling what he can. As he works you continue to feel his breath on your neck, and you wonder if he has any idea what it’s doing to you.

Seemingly satisfied he won’t make it any worse than it already is, Eddie grasps the tag with his fingertips and places the palm of his other hand on your shoulder blade, the heat of it radiating through you so intensely that you have to scrunch your eyes closed and try to ground yourself.

With a quiet, “You ready?”, Eddie begins to slowly lower the zip.

It dislodges under his delicate touch, and although the zip is now completely free-moving he continues to pull it downwards ever so slowly. You feel another frisson of excitement, and even though you could at this stage probably quite easily take over and get out of the garment yourself, you don’t move away.

As the opening reaches your shoulder blades, you feel something else. It’s featherlight, barely there, but you think you can feel the knuckle of one of Eddie’s bent fingers brushing the skin of your back as he pulls the zipper slowly downwards.

Part of you thinks you should be freaked, after all an almost-complete stranger is touching you without your consent, but somehow it doesn’t feel weird. It feels… nice. Safe. Right.

The lower the zip goes the more of Eddie’s breath you feel on your back, and as the sides separate the edges of the colourful tattoo on your shoulder blade become visible.

Eddie's breath stutters at the sight, and as his knuckle passes over your bra strap and connects again with your lower spine you abruptly shake yourself out of your reverie.

Clutching the front of your tunic to your body, you move quickly away from him, stumbling back towards the locker room and mumbling, “I’ll take it from here. Thanks Eddie, you’re a lifesaver.”

Plonking yourself down on the bench in front of your open locker, you take a few deep breaths, trying to centre yourself before you get changed and wondering how on earth you’re going to be able to face him again tomorrow, the (yes, you’ll admit it now) hottest Santa you’ve ever seen...

Back in your own clothes (black, wide-gauge fishnets, an old tee from a punk band that no longer exists, and a flared black skirt - much better) you’re about to scurry out with your head down when you hear muffled grunts and groans from the main floor. What on earth is going on out there?

You amble back out to the grotto area, trying to appear nonchalant and like this is your usual route out of the building.

You see Eddie’s combat boots sticking out from behind a pile of fake snowballs. They seem to be twitching.

You move closer until you can see his entire form. He’s lying on his back, immobile, completely tangled in fairy lights. You can’t help but start to giggle, not least because for the first time since meeting him it’s he who’s the one in a compromising position.

He’s struggling, likely making it worse, and he starts as he sees you, barking out, “Oh god, Boots, you scared me! Well, laugh it up, fuzzball, I guess it’s your turn to rag on me now.”

“What on earth happened? Are you hurt?”

“I said I’d help rearrange these lights, so I was up that ladder, moving them around, when the rung gave way. The lights were the only thing I could grab for when I span, fell, and, well, here we are!”

He gives you a broad but sarcastic grin, realising the absurdity of his predicament, trying to spread out his palms in a jazz hands kind of illustration but only managing to do it with one, the other trapped at his belt line by a string of dazzling pink lights.

“Um, you need a hand?”

“Uh, yes please.”

You take a moment to appraise the situation. You see the broken ladder, the tangled piles of lights, scuffed-up fake grass and unruly piles of snowballs.

As for Eddie, he seems unharmed, if a little bruised in the ego (and, perhaps, the elbows). He’s still wearing the Santa suit. Well, most of it. He still has on the hat for some reason, and the trousers, but he’s discarded the beard and jacket, presumably for reasons of temperature regulation or ease of movement, and his ‘belly’ cushion is nowhere to be seen.

And his top half? Well, his top half is now adorned only in a tight, white tank top.

You swallow as you take in his torso. He looked good on stage that night at the bar, but you never really got to see him this close up. Or this well lit.

His skin is almost as pale as the fake snow that litters the area, but there’s a creaminess to it that just makes him look, well, edible is the only word you can think of. Apart from ’lickable’. Yep, that would work too…

He’s solid, well defined, but he’s not stocky. You imagine that years of carrying amps and band equipment around has toned his muscles rather than bulked them.

And the tattoos… Oh. God.

You’ve always had a thing for people with alternative tastes, but this guy takes the cake. Swirling black ink in a variety of designs and styles covers his pecs and biceps, with smaller but no less elaborate designs adorning his forearms.

You notice a subtle glint under the colourful strings of lights that enwrap him, and spot that one of his nipples is pierced, the ring of metal just barely visible through the taut fabric.

Your eyes drift to his hands (those same hands that entranced you that first night), and although there’s no rings tonight (you guess ‘Badass Santa’ wasn’t the version on the mall’s wish list) his hands are no less attractive, still strong-looking and veiny, and you spot a number of small finger tats that you hadn’t been aware of before.

His position and the fact that he’s still struggling mean his abs are tensed, with his forearms are in front of him, making them, and his shoulders, really pop.

Jeezus.

Your thighs clench and you feel a heat bloom in your core.

He notices you staring, and for a moment seems to revel in it, but eventually breaks you out of your trance, asking, “You gonna help me get out of this, or what?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course, um, lemme just…”

You decide to start at his feet, reasoning that’s where the tangles are the least bad, and at least if his feet are free he’ll be able to sit up.

That decision has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that you’d like to see him sitting, bound, tied up for you, naked…

Shit. Fuck. Concentrate…

Eventually you free him from the majority of his confines, your fingertips and the backs of your hands brushing his skin and the fabric of his clothes occasionally. As he’s able to sit up, his hair tickles you as you work, his scent invades you all over again, and the two of you share glances and timid little chuckles as you move around him, both aware that you’re closer than you’ve been before.

Eventually he’s completely freed, and as he stands and steps out of the final loop of lights he flops exhaustedly backwards into his golden throne, eyeing the pile of entangled lights and running a hand over his face, mumbling, “Shit, there’s no hope for them tonight. I’ll deal with it all in the morning.”

You stand to the side of the throne, wanting to check he’s ok, and in a bold move that you weren’t expecting he lifts one arm and takes the tips of your first two fingers in his, gently raising your hand in a silent instruction to come closer.

Mirroring your earlier comment, he says, “Thanks, Boots. You’re a real lifesaver”, adding, with a hand against his forehead, “I would’ve been here all night, could’ve starved to death. They'd've found my mummified remains in the morning.”

You find yourself stepping towards him, and with your free hand try to give his pec a playful slap, murmuring, “You’re so dramatic. No, wait, theatrical!”

The slap fails though, as he rapidly brings his other hand up to the back of yours, trapping your palm against his chest. You can feel the heat of his skin, the slight sheen of sweat just noticeable as your fingertips breach the low neckline of his top, the heavy thud of his heartbeat.

You don’t realise how close you’ve become, and you gasp as your knees touch the side of his. He gently grabs the hand that’s on his chest and pulls it to his side, and to stop yourself from toppling forwards you have to step around him, ending up standing astride his legs.

Your eyes lock, and something changes. For a long moment neither of you move, and you feel your breathing rate speed up.

Not breaking eye contact, Eddie slowly moves your arm up to his shoulder, and you find yourself climbing onto the throne with him, straddling his thighs.

He breaks out that low, rumbling voice again, as he murmurs,

“That’s it, Boots, come sit on Santa’s lap.”

As you lower down onto him, you feel the heat of his thighs through your thin tights, and then the contrast of the chill of your metal-coated heels against the backs of yours.

You also feel something bloom in the pit of your stomach. And further down. A warmth, heat, need.

Eddie moves one hand to hold the back of your waist, pulling you gently, moving you further up his lap towards him.

You feel the unmistakable bulge of his arousal between your thighs, and as he moves you closer you gasp as you feel it nudge your mound.

You look at each other for another long moment, aware that this is very new territory. His eyes flick between your eyes and your lips, as he asks, quietly, “Is- is this okay?”

It’s all too much and simultaneously not enough. You definitely weren’t expecting any of this, but at the same time you find yourself desperately nodding, needing more of him, of Eddie.

You answer by slowly rolling your hips lightly against him, your lips parting slightly.

The few layers of fabric between you aren’t enough to dull the sensation of his cock pushing against your centre, and you feel it gradually pressing between your folds, your growing slick making the movements easier.

Suddenly, his bulge nudges your sensitive bud.

You gasp again at the sensation, making Eddie exhale a long low, warm breath over your torso, before he speaks again.

“Boots, can I kiss you?”

You take a breath, considering how this could all go. You could walk away now (albeit with shaky legs and damp thighs) and leave any possible awkwardness or complicated entanglement in favour of a simple, uncomplicated holiday with your friend.

But then you look into his eyes again, as his hips gently buck and nudge you once more, and your decision is made.

Breathing out, you reply,

“Fuck yeah, Santa.”

Wearing a soft, sly smile, he gently brings one hand to the back of your head, bringing you to him as he moves forwards, chocolate eyes roaming your face, scanning your eyes and lips.

Noses bumping and lips millimetres apart, he pauses for a moment before closing the gap, pressing his soft, plush lips to yours. They feel divine, soft and velvety, and this close you can smell everything him now, with the subtle addition of something faintly minty.

You kiss him back, and then you both press forward harder, parting your lips at the same moment, the tips of your tongues touching and dancing before sliding past each other and deepening the kiss, your teeth bumping gently and hot breaths mingling.

It’s wet, hot and needy, your hands grasping his shoulders, and his arms pulling you closer to him.

The rolling of your hips gradually becomes stronger and more forceful, and he bucks harder up into you. You need more. Breaking the kiss for air, you take a couple of lungfuls, toying with the drawstring on his red pants before asking, bold and more than a little cheeky,

“How are you feeling? Still entangled? Do you need a hand getting out of these, too?”

“Yeah, fuck, I’m feeling very… entrapped, kinda claustrophobic. Might be in shock from such a traumatic experience. I might need to loosen my clothing a bit, y’know, for medical reasons.”

You give him a smirk, and untie the cords. Raising up on your knees slightly, you slide your thumbs hands into the waistband of those and his fitted, black boxers (fuck, is there anything about this guy that isn’t sexy?). He quickly takes the hint, lifting his hips off of the throne and allowing you to move his garments down to his thighs.

As you work his member gets caught on the elastic of his boxers, and as it releases from the fabric it springs back onto his abdomen with an audible slap. You can’t help but look, and you’re not disappointed. It’s pleasantly, but not overly, big, thick and veiny, curved slightly and with a large flared head. The tip is shiny and pinky-red, and as you stare it twitches away from his body and a tiny bead of precum leaks from the tip. You’re surprised, but also delighted, to spot a shining pair of steel balls decorating a frenum piercing, and that there’s a few pretty dot and line work tattoos near the base.

It’s beautiful. You want to tell him so, but he grabs you and pulls you in for another deep, passionate kiss, his length trapped between your bodies, hot and pulsing.

You melt into the kiss, tongues slipping and sliding, lips rubbing, noses smooshed against each other and enjoying it for as long as you can both do without air.

Needing another deep inhale, and also wanting to get your hands on his delightful cock, you sit up again, slipping one hand between you and grasping at his length. Eddie hisses, then moans,

“Oh, Boots, you’re gonna fucking kill me.”

You enjoy the feeling of him in your hand for a few moments, relishing the heat and hardness, before you position the palm of your hand behind his cock and push your centre towards him again, trapping his length between your hand and belly.

More thrusts of his hips moves him between you, your slightly adjusted position now pressing him firmly between your clothed folds, his cock dragging the fabric across your clit. You can’t help but let out a high whine, and you feel his cock twitch again.

“Too much fabric. Wanna feel you.”

His voice is gruff, desperate, wanting.

You lean back a little, resting one hand on the arm of the throne, keeping your other hand wrapped around his cock. You’re not sure you ever want to let it go.

His hands move from your ass to your thighs, running over them and squeezing. When he reaches the part exposed by your lifted skirt he growls, feeling the skin of your hips and belly through the mesh of your tights.

Suddenly, his chin dips and he gives you an almost evil grin. His eyes remain connected with yours as the tip of his tongue peeks out of the corner of his mouth as he pushes some of his fingertips through the holes, grabs tightly and pulls.

You freeze as the sound of snapping fabric echoes around the grotto, cool air now gracing your belly and inner thighs. You gasp, not only at his actions but because you packed light and don’t have any other tights with you. But as Eddie’s thumbs trace up to the crease of your thighs, dangerously close to your heated core, all thoughts of packing and capsule wardrobes are erased. You want, no, need him to touch you.

With a smirk, you say, “Please touch me, Santa. I promise I’ve been such a good girl this year.”

His jaw goes slack and he looks at you in awe. You notice how black his eyes have become, the beautiful chocolate hues all but obscured.

He flicks his gaze to your core, black satin panties with lace edging fully on display. He runs one thumb pad up your very centre, feeling the smooth, silky fabric, your heat, the dampness that’s already apparent.

“Christ, baby, is this all for me?”

“All for you, Santa. I’m pretty sure you’ve been a bad boy this year, but you deserve a treat anyway.”

His eyes flick to yours again briefly, his lips curling into a lascivious smirk, before returning to the beautiful display between your legs. He hooks his thumb around one lace edge and, much more gently than he handled your tights, moves the soaked satin to one side.

With a tenderness and reverence that you’ve never experienced before, Eddie parts your folds with his thumb and runs it delicately from your wet lips all the way up to your clit. His eyes are fixed there, jaw slack, and you genuinely think he might drool.

As he connects with your sensitive bud you keen above him, eyes closing and head rolling back.

“That’s the spot, huh?”

You come back to look at him, and manage to breathe out, with a lilting giggle, “Fuck, yes.”

He moves his thumb in a small circle, and your mouth falls open in an O, your brows furrowing slightly.

“You want me to keep going, Boots? All you have to do is ask…”

You’re lost, gone, away in space, and you don’t have the capacity to chide him for his cheek. All you can manage is a breathy, “Please Eddie, please keep going.”

His thumb speeds up slightly and he gradually and gently increases the pressure, and you can feel the coil in your belly tightening already. Fuck, he’s good at this.

Your hand remains clamped around his dick, squeezing it occasionally, his hips rutting up into your fist at a leisurely pace as he watches you fall apart on his lap.

He moves his other hand from where it’s been resting on your hip, and, widening his thighs slightly to create space beneath you, brings the tips of his index and middle fingers to your hole. You’re sopping wet and swollen, lips almost sucking him in just from the slightest touch.

He looks to your face again as he asks, “Is this okay?”

You manage a rapid, shallow head nod and a, “M-hm”, and he slowly plunges two fingers into you, scissoring them and generating a low groan from you, which in turn causes a harsher snap from his hips.

“Jeezus, Boots, you make the most delicious sounds, wish I could record them, listen to them on a loop. Fucking hell.”

“Maybe you can, you’re a musician after a-all…”

That’s the last thing you can say for a while, the combination of Eddie’s smirk, his talented fingers pumping in and out of you, his glorious thumb movements, the feel of his cock in your hand and his hips bucking beneath you all conspire to bring you to your peak.

You grip the arm of the throne hard, nails denting the pile on the velvety fabric. Your eyes close and your vision goes black before becoming a thousand tiny fairy lights, a firework igniting in your core and spreading throughout your body in the most delicious waves as you spasm around Eddie’s fingers.

You don’t notice you’ve been groaning until your senses return, and you feel a slight roughness in your throat. Eddie continues his movements, though slower, and helps you ride out your aftershocks as you pant on his lap.

Only when you start to twitch in discomfort does he remove his thumb from your clit. He slowly pulls his fingers from inside you, and to your surprise brings them up to his lips, pushing them fully inside his mouth and sucking greedily, closing his eyes and humming at your taste. Popping them out with a wet smack, he says,

“My god, Boots. You taste better than sugar cookies and cotton candy combined.”

Your arms feel suddenly weak, and you flop forwards, forehead on Eddie’s collarbone. You feel his warm, broad palm on your back, rubbing gently, soothing you.

“Y’okay there, sweetheart?”

You manage a little squeak, and mumble a tiny, “Mmph, yeaaah…”, as he chuckles lightly.

After a few moments you sit up a little, gazing into Eddie’s blown chocolate eyes through an endorphin haze, and you notice your cheeks are tense, in what must be, given Eddie’s somewhat lovesick expression, a goofy smile.

You realise you’re still holding on to his dick, and give it an experimental squeeze, to test whether your muscles are responding to signals from your brain (yeah, that’s definitely the only reason…). Eddie’s hips buck up, and you sneak a look down to see more precum leaking from the tip. You gather some with your thumb, circling it gently over his slit.

Eddie inhales with a hiss. His strong arm around your back goes to pull you in for another kiss, as his other hand reaches up to the hat atop his head, pulling it off and discarding it amongst the tangled fairy lights.

You move towards him for a deep kiss, releasing the grip on his member and running your hands around his (surprisingly muscular and delicious) neck and into the hair at the base of his skull, tangling your fingers into the curls and tugging gently, earning you another moan.

Shifting your hips along his thighs, you press your soaking folds against Eddie’s turgid cock, and the combination of sensations causes Eddie to break the kiss and emit a loud, low groan. His arms tighten around your torso and he moves his warm mouth down your jaw and neck with wet kisses, then lightly bites the top of your shoulder.

You sigh, knowing what you want.

“You ever fuck an elf, Santa?”

Eddies still mouthing at your collarbone as he mutters into your warm skin,

“Goddammit, you’re incredible.”

You move backwards slightly and Eddie takes the opportunity to reach behind him, grabbing the back of his tank top and dragging it off, dropping it carelessly to the side of the throne to join the lights and his hat.

Fuck, his chest is glorious too.

Bringing a little of your lower lip between your teeth, you run your palms down his solid torso. You want the opportunity to play with that nipple ring and examine each and every one of his tattoos, but right now there are more pressing desires on your mind.

He lets out a shaky breath as you brush his abs with your fingertips, shift your position and line up his swollen head with your eagerly awaiting hole.

“You sure about this, Boots?”

You look up at him, at his blown dark eyes and pink, kiss-bitten, shiny lips, and quirk an eyebrow as you run your fingers into his hair and murmur, “Oh yeah, Eddie. I want you to make me feel… special inside.”

He gasps as you angle your hips and sink down, pushing the head of his cock inside of you, gradually taking his thick length.

He kisses your lips once more, humming, as you acclimatise to his girth, then grins lasciviously as he thrusts his hips upwards, filling you completely. You’re close enough that the moans you let out mingle together and your breaths become shared, eyes locked and mouths agape.

You roll your hips, sliding Eddie’s length in and out of you at a gentle pace. You can feel every ridge and vein as he enters and pulls out, and you’re sure you can feel his frenum piercing dragging against your walls.

You can tell he’s holding back, consciously stilling his own hips and allowing you to set the pace. But this doesn’t last long.

Voice gravelly and ragged with lust, Eddie mumbles,

“Shit, baby, I gotta move. I wanna fuck you so bad, Boots. You gonna let me fuck you?”

Mouth close to his ear, you breathe out a small, “Please”.

It’s all he needs.

Grabbing your ass and squeezing hard but not harshly, Eddie pulls you down onto him as he thrusts up from below. His pace is ruthless as he lifts and drops you, matching his rhythm as he grunts and mumbles incoherent curses. You can’t make out much, but you do hear,

“Fuck, baby, you feel so divine, taking me so well, Jeezus Christ.”

Fuck, he feels amazing.

You remember his cock tattoos, and imagine how they might look, shiny and covered with your slick, disappearing in and out of your glossy lips.

This image, combined with a particularly hard snap of Eddie’s hips causing him to angle slightly differently and start to nudge that special place inside of you, causes you to let out a loud gasp, and your mouth drops open as you try to form a sentence.

“Oh fuck Eddie, I’m- I’m…”

“You gonna cum all over Santa, pretty girl?”

He continues thrusting at that delicious angle and you feel your legs start to tremble.

“Fuck! Y-yes, ye-ess!”

Heat building in your core, you just about hear Eddie mumbling,

“Shit, you’re squeezin’ me so tight, I’m not gonna last much longer. Where do you want…?”

Before he can even finish you’re blurting out,

“Inside me Eddie, please.”

You bounce on Eddie’s lap as his thrusts become deeper, faster, and then harsher and less rhythmic. You grind down onto his pelvis, your clit rubbing against his pubic bone and his thick, dark pubic hair, as his cock continues to bully your most sensitive spot.

Suddenly your muscles tense, thighs clamping around him, your forehead pressing hard into his, as his hips slam up into you. You let out a low whine as you peak again, vision blackening, all your muscles tensing as your walls clench around him.

Eddie follows almost immediately, thrusting harshly upwards and pulling your hips down onto him, and you feel rushes of warmth as he groans and empties himself inside your fluttering cunt.

There’s quiet for a moment, and all you can hear is your panting breaths and the sound of your own heartbeat in your ears.

You sit in silence for a few minutes, foreheads feasting against each other, heartbeats slowing and breathing becoming more regular.

Breathlessly, and without full clarity, you sit up slightly and mumble “Fuck, Eddie, that was…”

Eddie chews a little on the inside of his lower lip, and with the widest, sexiest smile you’ve ever seen, replies softly,

“Merry Christmas, Boots.”

After a few moments spent pecking kisses on various parts of your face, making you giggle, Eddie eventually helps you to lift off his slowly softening cock. He leans over to retrieve his discarded tank top and uses it to help clean the mess you both made between your legs.

You unpeel yourselves from the golden throne, feeling sure the heels of your boots have left marks in your ass, and he aids your passage back to the locker room on wobbly legs, helping you wash and making sure you’re ok.

As you gather your things he changes into his street clothes. They’re not dissimilar to last night, though he’s foregone the chain belt and has chosen a somewhat more fully intact shirt, and he watches you as he slings on his leather jacket.

Almost ready, you look down forlornly at your gaping tights, the hole barely covered by the hem of your skirt. Eddie chuckles, and tries to lighten your hosiery-related mood.

“Perhaps I could buy you a new pair? Maybe at lunch tomorrow we could go visit your favourite shop, and you could pick out something nice?”

The image of Santa and one of his elves nonchalantly browsing the displays in a sex shop amuses you greatly, and you tell him so, but he insists he would totally do it, if you wanted to.

There’s a pause as you retrieve your coat and go to put it on, and as you do he adds,

“Well, I’d call it a Christmas gift, but… I’d actually prefer to get you something a little nicer. If you’re around. And you’d let me, of course.”

You’re surprised by Eddie’s unexpected tenderness, and the implication that he might want to continue… whateverthisis. You don’t want to presume anything, but there’s certainly a little tingle in your belly at the thought.

You reply, sardonically, “Sure, I guess. So long as it’s not red and glittery, I think I've had enough things like that to last me for a little while.”

You both snort-laugh at this.

As you start to walk together to the staff exit at the back of the mall, Eddie offers to take your bag so you can fasten your coat and put on your hat and gloves.

Trying to sound casual, he asks, “Sooo, how’re you gettin’ back to Robin’s?”

“I was gonna take the bus, like usual.”

Eddie looks at you sideways, slightly bashful.

“Could I, maybe, give you a ride? We can stop at Benny’s on the way, if you’re hungry. It's a diner”, he clarifies, remembering that you’re not from around here.

Your tummy flips, and not just from the thought of a milkshake and fries.

“Yeah, sure, I’d like that.”

Eddie smiles that wide smile again, and you see his cheeks turn a little pink. It’s odd, him being all shy and self-conscious after what you two have just done, but somehow it’s also incredibly endearing.

As he walks you through the parking lot, still carrying your bag and toying with a stray piece of tinsel that he found in his pocket, he says,

“Y’know, I’d still really like to see what you do with that Christmas dildo.”

Thinking back to how he looked all tangled up, you smirk back at him as you think of how you’d quite like a redo of him tied up for you.

As you reach his van, you lean against the passenger door and coyly look at him.

“Well, maybe I could show you. Could we, maybe, do something after work tomorrow?”

With the sweetest dimpled smile you think you’ve ever seen, Eddie cocks his head to one side and lifts a hand to run the tip of one forefinger along your jawline, as he replies in that low rumble,

“Oh, Boots, you should know by now. All you have to do is ask.”

🎄You may not yet be completely sold on the whole idea of The Holidays™️, but you’ll have to admit to Robin that this might well be the start of your Best. Christmas. Ever.🎄

Thanks so much for reading! ILY 🥰

Please support your content creators by not only liking but also commenting and reblogging - it’s so important. If you liked this there’s a good chance others will too, and comments and reblogs are the only way posts get seen. Consider it a Christmas gift to your writers and followers 😍🎅🏼 Thank you, and Happy Holidays, however you celebrate!

Resources: Proof that Deck The Halls can be sung to the tune of War Pigs (and vice versa), plus the ‘Fa la la’ 😊🎄

[i23kazu]

THE MOON REPRESENTS MY HEART

characters. xiao zhongli baizhu x gn!reader ; chongyun xingqiu xiangling hutao & gn!reader genre. romantic fluff / platonic fluff an. 大家，中秋节快乐！ happy midautumn festival! here's the liyue men celebrating with you. | please reblog!! im getting back into writing and reblogs with tags and comments will make me want to write more :D

xiao

after much persuading and convincing from you, a reluctant xiao makes his reappearance in wangshu inn's balcony – where the two of you are greeted with verr goldet, huai'an, and smiley yanxiao – with a plethora of traditional foods spread on the table. there are elaborately designed mooncakes and sweet slices of pomelo, freshly peeled, because smiley yanxiao is still making them easier to eat for you all. xiao wants to hide himself away from the crowd, his blush evident on his face. it will be alright. let's enjoy ourselves tonight, but if you want to leave at any point in time, i'll accompany you, you whisper into his ear. it seems to alleviate the crimson hue that has invited itself onto his cheeks.

zhongli

celebrating mid autumn festival was tradition for you and zhongli. he performs a simple tea ceremony when both of you arrived at the adepti's abode, with the company of moon carver, mountain shaper, cloud retainer, as well as madame ping. just for old times sake, the youthful arrive as well – xiao, shenhe, ganyu, and yanfei. the air is sweet with the sounds of embarrassed protests as the old-timers laugh and share stories, lightly teasing the younger ones of their misdeeds. shenhe bears a particularly disgruntled look on her face, before cloud retainer laughs and pours her more tea. it's like family, and you're blessed to have been accepted by them as well.

baizhu

mid autumn festival in baizhu's home was always celebrated in a group of five: qiqi, yaoyao, herbalist gui, him, and yourself. gui often acted like an uncle to the younger ones, bringing them piglet biscuits and non-traditional mooncakes that were often catered towards children. yaoyao and qiqi each select a lantern that gui had stuffed into his bag – a rabbit for yaoyao, and a lotus for qiqi. you and baizhu share a kiss as you watch the fireworks blossom into the sky, hoping, and hoping, that chang'e would see it.

bonus

"(y/n), let's go! let's hurry!" xiangling grabs your hand as you finish adjusting the candle on your lantern. hu tao whizzes past the two of you, laughing and dragging chongyun along with the help of xingqiu. the five of you had planned to gather for the festival, and now, your lanterns cast a warm glow onto your faces.

after a gratifying meal made by xiangling (with chef mao's assistance – in cooking and eating), the group had decided to gather at the docks, to see the fireworks and lanterns lift off into the sky.

"they're starting!" hu tao cries, eyes fixated on the first lantern that drifts it's way up. chongyun hurriedly finishes writing a prayer of longevity on your shared sky lantern, whispering please, chang'e, make it come true one last time before lifting it up to the sky to take hold.

the lights dance across liyue's horizon. there are lanterns coming from all over liyue – you see some from wangshu inn, qingce village, guili, nantianmen – a sweet reminder that liyue exists beyond the busy harbour.

"happy mid autumn festival! 中秋节快乐！" the five of you cheer, lifting your lanterns up to the sky. the first of the fireworks start to beautify the night sky, the pretty colours igniting the childlike wonder that your friends still held dear to.

happy mid-autumn festival, liyue!

taglist: @tiredsleep @loptido @raincxtter @chichikoi @ladyadii @soulsanta @sheiiths @genshinparty @eowinthetraveler @moonbyunniee @legitnoi @lemontum @manager-of-the-pudding-bank @starz222 @ilyuu @cherry-colored-petals @mondaymelon @tartaglia-apologist @soleillunne @m1shapanda @aimynx @smokipoki @adeptuscharm @diorlumx @vennnnn-diagram @ryuryuryuyurboat @yuminako @st0pthatsgay @aqualesha @sixtynintharchon @supernova25 @kunikuda-simp (send ask/comment to be added to taglist)

reblogs w/ tags & comments help me lots !!! if you liked this, consider dropping me a follow as well :-) they all go a long way!

[ghostlyfleur]

♡ winter wonderland with boyfriend!eddie

[made by request]

[opultea]

Timaeus Isn’t the Only One

Windbloom with Genshin men ft. Cyno, Albedo

Drabbles - GN Reader (No Pronouns) - Fluff (slightest angst in Albedo’s but ends with fluff) - Romantic - SFW

Part 2 for Cyno

It seems that Timaeus isn’t the only one who's gained a love interest this Windbloom festival…

Cyno

Cyno had several agendas for his trip to Mondstadt. Of course his principal reason was Collei’s protection and accompaniment, though another not so secret motivation added to his decision. How could this reason be anything other than Genius Invokation TCG?

Not only did he have the opportunity to commission a custom card back from the famous Calx, but Cyno would also be able to spend his precious vacation hours playing against folks in Mondstadt’s heart of TCG; the Cat’s Tail.

As soon as Collei had gone off with her local friends to catch up and see the sights, Cyno set off to the Cat’s Tail, his deck in hand, hoping to find some worthy challengers in the renowned tavern. Upon entering, Cyno took no time to tarry, immediately challenging the first person he saw with a deck to a duel. The Mondstadtian man in question was naturally a little shocked to be issued such a sudden challenge, but accepted none the less.

It took all of three minutes for Cyno to beat him. After accumulating three more consecutive wins in the next ten minutes or so, Cyno’s table had gathered quite the crowd. The tavern was ablaze with excitement, many players afraid and in awe of the evident master before them.

It was around this time that you entered the Cat’s Tail, planning to catch up with Margret and maybe stretch your card game muscles with a few rounds of Genius Invokation. What you didn’t expect was a crowd of people surrounding one table, holding their breaths and intently watching a game as if it was a chess tournament.

“Hey Prince, Shuyun, what’s going on? Was there a special event today that I wasn’t aware of?”

Prince meowed in response, Shuyun translating,

“Not exactly, but it seems we have a new house champion. And an outlander, at that.”

“A house champion? Is he really that good?”

“He’s beaten some of our best players in mere minutes. I’d say he has earned such a title.”

You’re gaze swept over the crowd again, hoping to see the illustrious card player between the audience members. The crowd cheered, jumping around and indicating that another game had been won by the champion. As the audience parted slightly for the small celebration, you caught a glimpse of the winner, a man dressed in Sumerian clothing, with a stern face that presently held a small prideful smile.

You turned back to Prince when he nudged your arm with his soft head, watching as he pointed his paw and nudged his head toward the man.

“You know what? Maybe I will Prince,” you took a moment to pat his head, being mindful not to topple his tiny hat, before making your way to the crowded table.

“Would anyone else like a game?” The champion asked the crowd, face still flat, though his eyes shone with a subtle sense of fun.

“I’d love to,” you said, sitting down opposite.

“Excellent, let’s begin.”

The game was long and gruelling, with both sides losing two characters and using almost all their cards before the final round. The audience was impatiently watching, eyeing off each player's determined expression and holding their breaths as you played a final card, allowing you to destroy your opponent's last character with your own on only two health points.

The crowd cheered loudly surprised and excited to see someone beat the incredible stranger.

"You play with great precision and thought in your actions, I willingly accept my defeat."

"Thank you, but it was super close, I would believe that if I my deck had been shuffled a little differently I wouldn't have won,"

"Do not underestimate your own skill. But we can test your theory in another game. I am Cyno, the adventurer."

You introduce yourself accordingly and shake hands to initiate another game. The two of you go back and forth in several more rounds of TCG, each losing and winning in equal ratios. You continue on for so long that the crowd eventually dissipates, you and Cyno the only ones left in the tavern.

Cyno used a final elemental skill, destroying your last character card and ending what was likely the hundredth round. You sighed in satisfaction, it had been a long time since you'd had this much fun playing cards with anyone before. Cyno seemed to share your sentiment, sitting still at the table and not bothering to pack away his deck.

"I would suggest playing another game, but I think the staff want us to leave so they can close," You laugh, slowly packing your dice into a little bag.

"Yes, it seems we are inconveniencing the staff. Although I will be back tomorrow. I hope you will come as well,"

"For sure, I've had so much fun playing against you Cyno. You're really amazing at this game, although I think I might be able to one-up you next time," You tease.

"Well, we will T-see-G." Cyno's usual stoicism did not shift with the uttering of the pun, though it did cause your own head to jerk in a chuckle.

"Pfft. I didn't take you as the kind to make jokes Cyno, but it seems to be a CARDinal part of your personality." You laugh, holding up a random card from your deck.

Cyno felt his subtle smile widen and his heart grow in kind. You laughed at his joke. You even returned it.

"Come have dinner with me."

Your head shot up at the sudden request, mind racing and mouth agape. Did... did this guy just ask you out?! Surely he was just making a request to spend time together platonically, right? You hardly knew each other after all, even though you had great chemistry and shared a lot of interests. Not to mention he was attractive, and his hair looked so silky. Okay now you were just complimenting him.

You know what? Whether Cyno was asking you on a date or just as a friend, you wouldn't mind.

"Sure, that sounds great," You smile.

Tighnari and Collei were beyond surprised when Cyno told them he went on a date the next day.

Albedo

You walked through the main square of Mondstadt, admiring the festive decor and lively atmosphere of the Windbloom season. Strolling past the fountain, you spotted Sucrose and Albedo conversing at the alchemy station. A smile lit up across your features, it has been a while since you’d spoken to the alchemists, especially with how busy the seemed to be recently. Your hopefully secret crush on Albedo also meant that you were always looking for a chance to talk, especially during the festival of love. Deciding to take the opportunity, you walked over to say hello.

“Sucrose, Albedo!” You called, turning the two toward you. “How are you?”

“Y/n, we’ve been well. I hope you can say the same?” Albedo smiled politely.

“Yes, I’ve been well enough. I feel like I’ve barely seen you guys though, have you been busy?”

“Yes, my position as Windbloom ambassador this year has certainly kept me very busy, not to mention this strange prophecy we’ve come across.” Sucrose explained, sounding a little out of breath, but satisfied with her work. “How has your Windbloom been? Is there anything I can do to help make it better?”

“My Windbloom has been just fine, thank you Sucrose. A little too regular, if anything. I hope that with all your work you’re still finding time to enjoy yourself. I would believe that as Windbloom ambassador, it’s most important that you are enjoying yourself. Otherwise, how can you bring joy to others?”

“An excellent postulate, I too believe that Sucrose’s own happiness will affect her ability to help others with theirs. After all, a gloomy person would not do much to sooth your own worries.” Albedo reasons.

“Th-thank you, both of you,” Blushing at both of your concern, Sucrose adjusts her glasses bashfully. “When you said your Windbloom has been ‘regular’, what do you think would make it more impactful? Perhaps there is something I can help you with after all?”

“It’s nothing you’d be able to change Sucrose, but thank you,” you sigh, glancing wistfully across the square at the smiling, bustling citizens. “I suppose a festival of love and friendship just makes the lonely feel a little more alone. But it’s nothing big. I’ve got my own work and things I need to do, as I know you both have, so I’ll leave you to it. It was nice to see you both!”

“Yes, and you as well,” Albedo responded, although both he and Sucrose had a crinkle of worry in their brow.

“Um, we’ll see you later Y/n, I promise!”

You bid the duo goodbye, smiling and slightly regretting saying anything about yourself. You didn’t mean to turn the conversation so somber, hopefully Sucrose and Albedo still kept their lively attitudes despite your sudden sob story.

Although you did truely feel the effect of the events surrounding you everywhere you went. Although the festive air was fun, the novelty ran out quickly for you when you didn’t have anyone to celebrate with. Your friends were busy with their romantic pursuits, and only chatted with you shortly to update you on their success. Of course you were happy for them, but it stung a little to know you didn’t have the same.

Seeing Albedo today hadn’t helped your hurt. Despite the friendly conversation, speaking to him so casually only served as a reminder of what you knew deep down would never be. Albedo was a serious and studious, he would never have time for something so trivial as romance.

You sighed as you entered your home, deciding not to keep throwing the hapless pity party and get some work done instead. You would just have to get over it, you huffed. It’s not like anything was changing anytime soon.

You sat down across the couch, slouching after completing your work, staring into space and trying not to let the sensation of loneliness creep back now that you weren’t up and about. A knock at the door brought you from your stupor, pushing the doubting thoughts back for a moment as you curiously approached the door. You certainly weren’t expecting any guests, but what you saw when you opened to door couldn’t have been expected.

Albedo stood outside your home with a gentle smile and a full bouquet of winding, snow-white flowers the likes of which you had never seen. Your mouth gaped open as you blinked, your chest light as you tried to hold back your imagination. Surely this couldn’t be what your heart desperately hoped it would be?

“Albedo, what are you doing here?”

“Why, I simply wanted to visit you. As well as take the opportunity to present you with my Windbloom. I hope you will accept it,”

Albedo carefully handed the vine-like flowers over to you, your arms cradling them as you admired the otherworldly blooms.

“Did- did you create these?” You asked, wonderment filling your voice and reflecting in your eyes.

“Yes, I believed it was only reasonable to present you with something unique. Something to reflect how I feel... for you.” Albedo's calm features never faltered, his eyes only dropping for a second in what you could only guess was a rare shyness.

“What- I mean why-,” you tried to breathe, not quite sure how to ask the question burning in your mind. You settled with a whisper, “Why are you giving these to me?”

“Is that not obvious? I apologise if I have not been as upfront as I would have preferred, but I did not want to cause you any grief in the case you didn’t reciprocate my feelings.” Albedo explained, voice softer than ever. “I find myself infatuated with you, Y/n. You occupy more of my thoughts than any other, and I feel myself drawn to you at all times. It was only earlier today when you commented on your lonesomeness that I realised it was worth my taking a chance to make both of us happier for it. So if you’ll allow me, would you accompany me to dinner tonight?”

You smiled wide, bashfully taking Albedo’s hand in your own as you stepped closer to him.

“I would love nothing more. Thank you, Albedo. You’ve no idea how much this means, how much I like you,”

“If it is anything like how I feel for you, I’d imagine you are quite spellbound at the moment,” the alchemist chuckled, taking your cheek in his palm and caressing the skin.

It was only that morning that you found yourself tired of the Windbloom festival. Yet now, you wished it would never end.

[ethereal-night-fairy]

Mistletoe Kisses

Poly!141 x GN reader

Let's see which one of the boys can get the most kisses from you during this Christmas season.

This a continuation of the little drabble I did about Poly!141. Comment below if you want a second part to this. Enjoy! 💗

Part 3 Sleepy - pre poly ask

Words: 1.1k

Masterlist

Warning: None just fluff and kissing.

The base has been weird for the last couple of weeks. It's unfortunate that not many people were given permission to leave and spend time with their families this holiday season. You and taskfore 141 had an upcoming mission to leave for right after New Year's day so everyone was stuck on base preparing. You've tried your best to liven everyone's spirits by decorating the common room and mess hall with lights and a Christmas tree. You had even managed to jokingly put some mistletoe in strategic places to get some of the recruits laughing. It was a little joy and laughter in an otherwise shitty situation. Gaz and Soap seemed to be having a great old time utilising the mistletoe every chance they get. It was endearing to see that they had such a close friendship.

Your friends back home were like that too. Kissing and hugging each other for laughs. It was quite nostalgic to witness it on base. You've seen The Captain and your lieutenant having fun with the mistletoe too. Giving each other kisses on the cheek or forehead. They did the same when they caught anyone else from the taskforce underneath it. You've been extra careful not to loiter around it. Though Soap and Gaz have tried but you just ended up scurring off before they could pull you underneath it. The base seemed a lot more festive and full of joy and were glad the effort you put into everything was paying off.

You had managed to also get small gifts for everyone, even the new additions to the base. It wasn't anything special, just small little gifts of sweets and chocolates. Though you did splurge a little with your teammates getting Price his favourite cigars and Ghost his favourite bottle of bourbon. With Soap and Gaz you were more playful with your gifts. Soap was going to receive some scotch and a scotch glass with the Scottish flag on in. You know since he's so patriotic. Gaz was a little harder to shop for but you ended up settling on hand knitted jumper. He had mentioned to you that his nan used to gift him one every Christmas. So an idea popped into your head to knit him the most god awful jumper anyone has ever seen. It was a poor looking jumper but you had tried your best. You wanted it to look tacky but in a cute way. Though you severely overestimated your knitting skills. It did look tacky but also poorly made. Who knew knitting would be so hard? You also got him his favourite alcohol. Hopefully by the time he opened your gift the alcohol would make it look a lot nicer than it was. Everything was prettily packaged and put under the captain's tree in his office.

You place the last of the dinner prep in the fridge. Everything was seasoned and marinated. All you had to do tomorrow was put everything in the oven and make the gravy and sides. You were glad the guys were warming up to you. For the longest time it felt like you were intruding on the tight knit group of theirs. They were very affectionate to each other more so than any other group you've seen. It made sense that they were cautious about you in the beginning. But recently you feel much closer to them. They were beginning to show you the same affection they reserved for each other. It was a surprise the first time Gaz had engulfed you in a bear hug after a mission had gone wrong. You both had barely made it out alive. Since that scare you felt they paid more attention to you. They always seemed to be on high alert when on missions with you. The casual hugs and pats were received more frequently now. They even started flirting with you like they did with each other.

You'd brush it off as military humour. A lot of the recruits did that too, it was nothing new. So you didn't really mind when their hands would linger jokingly while moving you to get something. Or when someone tried flirting with you at a bar one of them always had their arms wrapped around you. They also liked pinning you down during sparring sessions. They would laugh at you when you couldn't escape their hold. It was really frustrating sometimes. Then again, hand to hand combat wasn't your strong suit. But it was all fun and games between teammates so no harm done. The only thing that was getting a bit much was them trying to kiss you under the mistletoe. They were treating it as a competition. One you didn't want part in considering they probably made a bet on it. They did these stupid bets quite often since getting closer to you. You shake your head as you go to get ready for bed. You had an early start tomorrow.

You slide into your warm covers happy and content looking forward to the next day.

-

“How have none of us managed to get at least one kiss from them?”, Gaz huffs as he sits on the captain's desk. Price caresses his hips and thighs as he goes over the plan of the upcoming mission.

“You muppets probably scared them off”, He blows out a puff of smoke from his cigar as Gaz moves away from him annoyed.

“It doesn't help that they know where all the mistletoe is placed”, Ghost comments as walks behind Price's chair as he discusses his formation and position for the stakeout.

“Aye we only have till tomorrow. We should move the mistletoe”, Soap offers as he inspected the wrapped presents under Price's tree. Gaz comes up behind him smacking his head when he catches him trying to open his. “Come on then let's go move the mistletoe while they're asleep”, Gaz drags Soap by the arm who's rubbing his head. They leave to change the locations of the mistletoe you had placed at the start of the month.

“Sometimes I wonder how they managed to pass selection”, Ghost murmeres under his breath, managing to get chuckle from his Captain.

“Did you wrap the present we all got them?”, Price inquiries while writing something down on the file.

“It's under the tree with the rest of them….Do you think they'll like it?”, Ghost asks eyeing his Captain and lover. Price looks up from his file with a twinkle in his sapphire eyes.

“we'll find out won't we?”, He gives Simon his warmest smile, before giving him a tender kiss when he bends down.

Copyright © by ethereal-night-fairy. 2023. All Rights Reserved. Writing not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or use with AI technologies.

[lovecanyon]

Curious Gazes: The 79th Venice International Film Festival featuring Dad!Harry

venice looks!

harry_lambert wants to message you!

A gasp left Chiara’s mouth as she stared down at her phone. The notification must have been a glitch, apps glitch all the time…right? Why would one of the most important stylists message her? All her worrying had her nibbling on her lip nervously.

She had to find out what he wanted. Swiftly her thumb swiped to accept the DM to reveal Harry Lambert’s message to her. Her heart leaped out of her chest once she saw three long paragraphs on her screen.

Dropping out of college to become a freelance makeup artist wasn’t something she planned on doing. Being in debt over school had her worrying about every little thing so she ended up quitting her third year at NYU.

Her parents did not take it well at first but over the years they’ve learned to support her makeup artist job, thankfully.

“Holy…sh—“

The blonde slaps her hand over her mouth as she continues to read the messages over and over to check if her eyes are deceiving her. Why would someone this important want to work with her? Even his client wanted to work with her…wait who was his client anyway?

In a hurry she taps to get onto Harry Lambert's Instagram page but her shitty Wi-Fi stops her.

With a groan Chiara stands up frustratedly and starts to walk in circles. Before giving up on her Wi-Fi she stubs her toe, stuffs her face with marshmallows and even makes crappy popcorn on her stove.

When her internet goes out she either falls asleep and prays it will be back on when she wakes up or she uses her neighbor's Wi-Fi. She would’ve used her neighbors connection but they’ve already yelled at her countless times for slowing down their internet.

So the most sane thing to do was go to a cafe and use up all their free Wi-Fi.

Harry Styles, Florence Pugh, Emma Louise Corrin, Alexander Skarsgård and even Y/N L/N. She almost let out screams at each picture of the celebrities and had to remember she was in a cafe full of people. Swiping back to her direct messages she clicks on the most recent one that had her in shambles.

Hii Chiara I’m Harry Lambert and I was wondering if you are free the first week of September? Me and my client would love to work with you…

Too jittery to read everything the hundredth time, her shaky hands type out a response. It took her about 20 tries to type a decent message without making it seem like she’s freaking out—which she still was doing.

Once she hit send, she shoved her phone in her back pocket apprehensively and rushed out of the cafe nervously. It felt like she was in highschool and just sent a risky text.

Instead on waiting on a message, Chiara does a bunch of things to distract her but nothing could take her mind off of Harry fucking Lambert messaging her.

While her hands were covered in clay and thinking about the business opportunity she may have, she felt a buzz in her back pocket. Almost instantly she shoots up from her seat and turns off the pottery machine. Everyone else in the room was too busy to notice a blonde rushing out of the building with a towel wrapped around her hands.

“Yes!”

She couldn’t believe this was actually happening. Harry Lambert just gave her his and Alessandro Michele’s phone numbers for confirmation. The amount of excitement she felt was insane, never in her 22 years of life has she felt this giddy. Everything was finally turning good for her.

-

If you would’ve told her she would be getting on a private jet with Harry Styles and Y/N L/N, Chiara would’ve laughed in your face. But watching Y/N L/N and Harry Styles help their children out of their Range Rover through the jet window had her mouth hanging open in shock.

First of all she would’ve been fine with a regular plane ticket, yet Harry Lambert told her Y/N and Harry insisted on having her join their plane ride to Venice.

Oh yeah…she was going to Venice precisely to do Y/N’s makeup for The Venice Film Festival. She absolutely lost her shit of course. She never imagined doing someone’s makeup for one of the most prominent film festival’s yet here she was sitting on a jet seat.

While people were still boarding—none of them being the acclaimed couple—Chiara recognized some as the people that were on Y/N’s social media feed, she knew one of the guys sporting a backpack was Harry’s manager and the other being his photographer, Anthony.

She didn’t know how she was going to handle this for two whole days, hopefully she wouldn’t weird anyone out with her talkative persona.

“Excuse me Ms?”

The makeup artist looks up to find a flight attendant beaming down at her. As the blonde was going to give the air hostess a smile, she stopped herself.

Her eyes widened recognizing the person standing in front of her. Out of all people, why did her high school tormenter have to be Harry Styles’ stewardess. The girl that tortured her every single day when she was a teenager was stood right in front of her face.

The only thing she wished to do at this moment was disappear but she couldn’t, her body stayed put in the jet seat.

“Julie?” Chiara furrows her brows trying to sport the nicest smile ever. She didn’t know why her mind was telling her to play nice, she just hoped that ‘Julie’ or ‘Julia Calloway’ changed for the better. Yet she knew that wasn’t true once she saw a sour look crawl onto Julie’s face, the same sour look she saw everyday in school.

As the stewardess was about to respond to the makeup artist a bunch of people started to talk. Both of their attention swiftly diverted to the couple making their way inside the jet with their children.

It was like their prayers had been answered.

“Uh I got to go!” Julie says rushing away, not waiting for the blonde's response.

Chiara lets out a sigh of relief as she watches the air hostess greet Harry’s manager Jeffrey and Harry Lambert. The amount of industry people getting on the jet made her palms sweat. She had to hold her breath at Alessandro Michele revealing himself behind Tommy. The creative director of Gucci was here—she was in the presence of the creative director of Gucci.

But the next individuals made her freeze in her chair.

One Direction was big in her childhood. She always regretted not going to their concerts before they broke up and went solo. Though she knew going to their shows didn’t compare to being in the same vicinity as Harry Styles. This felt very unreal to her.

Harry had his arm wrapped around Y/N’s waist while his other arm held up a carrier—who Chiara assumed held their daughter Inez. A little boy stood in front of the couple and quickly darted to one of the jet seats followed by his backpack dragging behind him.

He must’ve been Beau since he looked exactly like Harry, he truly was his twin like everyone said. It felt illegal looking at his son without a strawberry emoji covering his face.

The makeup artist didn’t expect to get greeted by the mother but she did and it made her shoot up from her chair. She didn’t want to be rude to the person that offered to take her on their private jet with them.

“Chiara right?” Y/N smiles as she glances at Harry placing down the carrier on a seat next to Beau.

“U-uh yes! That is me.” Chaira says enthusiastically and quickly regrets her peppy tone but the woman standing in front of her just smiled brightly. “Sorry for being this excited at six thirty in the morning—“

“Hey, no it’s fine!” Y/N reassures the blonde which makes her grin. “Harry is a morning person so I’m used to it.”

Just as Chiara was going to speak, a loud cry came from the carrier. Harry, who looked stressed out—and definitely not like a morning person—swiftly picked up his daughter. Looking at Chiara, Y/N nods politely and excuses herself to the row across from her. Almost instantly she swoops up Inez in her arms which quiets her cries. Just the way her daughter stopped crying when she picked her up showed how she was such a good mother.

If Chiara even held a baby or got near one they would cry. Y/N had amazing mother abilities.

With people still getting situated on the jet, the blonde tries not to stare at the couple keeping their children entertained with a few stuffed animals and coloring books. She knew both Inez and Beau were going to grow up beautifully, they had great parents that would do anything for them.

Even though she hasn't greeted Harry yet, she was aware of him being one of the nicest celebrities ever.

Watching Harry and Y/N’s team get everything into place before takeoff was interesting. Jeff looked excited as he kept talking to Lambert about the couples outfits, Tommy was typing away on his phone most likely making sure everything was together when they arrived to Venice, Alessandro moved to sit with the beloved couple and their kids—which almost made Chiara scream—and Anthony was taking pictures of the morning sunset through the plane’s window.

This team went together perfectly.

As everyone was in their own conversations, Chiara noticed Julie looking at her with squinted eyes. Though before anything happens, the pilot announces takeoff and requests everyone to shut off their devices. Once she turns off her phone she looks up to find the stewardess gone. Letting out a sigh of relief, she lays her head back on the seat and decides to take a nap to avoid her tormentor.

It was just her luck.

-

The jet jolting made Chiara curse under her breath. She didn’t know why she was tired for some reason. Hopefully she could sleep more before—

“And we have arrived in Venice. Enjoy your stay folks.”

Shit.

Looking around, Chiara finds everybody grabbing ahold of their items, most likely getting ready to leave the plane. In the corner of her eye she sees Jeff and Tommy move forward to help Harry and Y/N with their luggage.

Right as she was going to pull out her suitcase, she sees a bunch of security making their way out of the airport and to the jet. About seven or eight men stood by the stairs of the plane, patiently waiting for the next celebrities they needed to guard.

Just the way Harry, Y/N and their kids needed that much security made her suck in a breath. Tomorrow was definitely going to be hectic.

Now with her suitcase in hand, the makeup artist stands up and waits for everyone to make their way out of the plane. As she stands by waiting, she makes eye contact with the person who she was dreading the most. She didn’t know what the red head was up to—hopefully she wasn’t up to anything.

Quickly looking away from her, Chiara makes her way to the woman that gave her this job and offers Y/N if she needs any help with anything. But before she could respond, Harry butts in with a shake of his head.

“It’s fine I got it. Thank you though.” Harry tells her, smiling. As he was about to walk down the aisle, he quickly rushed back and grabbed Y/N’s tote bag that was clearly holding a lot of things. That action made her kiss his cheek before he rushed off with Jeffrey and Lambert.

“Sorry that Harry hasn’t formally introduced himself. He’s really jittery and worried about the whole red carpet situation.” Y/N softly smiles at her hired makeup artist.

Red carpet situation?

“Sorry to ask but…red carpet situation?”

She could tell Y/N was hesitant to answer and that made her nervous, yet the woman walking up behind the mother of two made her heart beat—even more faster than it already was. Not wanting to talk to the flight attendant, she quickly dismisses herself to Y/N and tells her she will see her when they get off the jet. Once she receives a smile and a nod she races down the aisle.

She’s not going to put herself through hell, again.

With the help of another flight attendant, Chiara makes it on concrete with her suitcase. Moving to stand next to Lambert, she watches Harry race back inside the jet.

“Amazing, huh?”

Turning her head, she finds Alessandro Michele staring down at her. Being under his stare made her want to cry and run away but she stayed put and nodded. How does one talk to the creative director of Gucci?

“Yes. I can’t believe this is still happening.” She says with a smile. “I’m so honored to be apart of this team.”

“Well get used to it. Y/N seriously adores you which means you might be permanently apart of her and Harry’s team.” Alessandro playfully nudges her, making her smile grow.

For about fifteen minutes she stands there with the biggest grin ever, Harry however now appears at the top of the stairs with Beau in his hold and a small backpack—most likely Beau’s—slung over his shoulder. Before making his way down the jet stairs, he glances back at someone who turns out to be Y/N holding their daughter. She gives him a smile which makes him begin to walk down the airstairs with his son in his grasp.

As they make it to the last step, Chiara realizes the couple changed their outfits including Beau and Inez.

Harry now had a deep purple blazer over the green/pink Gucci cardigan he already was wearing beforehand and blue jeans instead of the grey sweats he previously had on. Rather than the Love on Tour hoodie and biker shorts, Y/N now was dressed in a purple sundress that had an open back and switched up her Adidas for a pair of white sandals.

What Inez and Beau had on almost made the makeup artist awe out loud. Both were in purple like their parents but Inez had on this ruffle dress that had her fingers playing with the fabric and Beau wore these white trousers paired with a shirt that had a flower printed on it.

“Cutest family ever!”

“Bellissima!”

-

“Please come, I really want you there.”

“I really don’t want to sit in a room full of reporters and paparazzi.” Y/N pouts playfully making Harry breathe out a laugh. “I will be here once you get back. I promise.”

Harry sits on his knees for a couple more seconds before nodding slowly. Standing up, he slightly bends down and places a kiss on Y/N’s forehead.

“Alright darling. I’ll see you when I get back.” Harry smiles nodding at his fiancé. Once Lambert opens the door, Jeffrey walks out of the hotel room followed by Tommy, Anthony and of course Harry. Yet he stops himself in the doorway, blowing Y/N and his children a kiss before getting pushed out by his stylist.

Chiara smiled at the couple's interaction. They both were so cute together that it made her wish she had a relationship like theirs. She had read about the two being each other’s soulmates and thought it was all bullshit—since every celebrity couple broke up within 10 years. But there was something about Harry and Y/N that just proved they were going to be together forever.

As Y/N moves to the bed where her children were watching a Disney movie on her iPad, Chiara decides to start unpacking her makeup supplies. Being in a room alone with Y/N soon to be Styles and her kids made her anxious—though after Alessandro words from yesterday repeated in her head, she realized she had nothing really to worry about.

The amount of products the makeup artist brought was insane but she wanted to be prepared for any look that Y/N wanted. Doing an A List celebrity’s makeup for one of the most prestigious movie festivals made her bite her lip trying to hide her excitement.

“I’m almost done setting up the station, I just need to go grab your clothes from Alessandro’s room.” Chiara turns to the mother looking down at her children with a smile.

“No need getting the clothes from his room, I’ll have Harry pick them up on the way back.” Y/N softly shakes her head which makes Chiara’s tense shoulders drop. This Y/N woman was amazing. The majority of the people she worked with were just plain rude to her. Yet here Y/N was giving her fiancé the tasks that were given to the makeup artist.

“Thank you, seriously. I don’t even know where the room is.” She smiles making Y/N laugh.

-

Right when the tv lights up with the press conference, both Y/N and Chiara get situated on the couch while Beau and Inez stay seated on the bed, playing with their stuffed animals. The blonde was still surprised when Y/N asked if she wanted to watch the conference with her.

The cast one by one gets introduced as they walk in. Chiara notices a small grin on Y/N's face when Harry nods and waves. She yearned for a relationship like theirs.

“Look at daddy guys!” Y/N points to the screen which makes Beau smile. He whispers something quickly to his sister making her look up to the tv. The amount of features they got from Harry was baffling. Green eyes, dimpled smile and curly haired all reminded the makeup artist of their father. You could immediately tell they were apart of the Styles family.

It was cute the way the two siblings interacted. Most famous children acted like brats which she hated to admit, but it was the truth. Beau had even greeted her and the team the first minute he walked in with his parents and sister. He had way better manners than most adults and that said a lot.

As the press conference continues on, Y/N and Chiara’s stay seated on the couch watching the cast answer questions. The blonde sat beside the mother of two could tell she was growing annoyed at the questions being asked—specifically to Harry.

Where is your fiancé?

How does Y/N feel about the sexual scenes in the movie?

Is your fiancé pregnant again?

When are you both getting married, have you set an official date?

Now Chiara understood why Y/N didn’t want to attend the press conference with Jeffrey. The press was truly invasive.

“Shit. I don’t know how we’re gonna bring Bee and Nez.” Y/N mumbles to herself standing up. With furrowed brows the makeup artist stops herself from asking anything. Maybe that was the red carpet circumstance she tried to bring up earlier. “I don’t think you know about the whole situation for the red carpet…Do you?”

“I think you were trying to tell me yesterday but we both got interrupted.” She shakes her head making Y/N nod.

“Well, H and I decided to take Inez and Beau to the premiere with us. But I’m afraid of how paparazzi and fans will react.” Y/N sighs leaning back onto the couch arm. Chiara widened her eyes at that news. The Styles children had their identities hidden ever since they were born and them making a debut at the premiere sounded surprising—very surprising.

The blonde felt for the mother. She must’ve been so stressed about bringing them to the film festival with her and Harry. The amount of press, fans and paparazzi probably had her nervous about the whole situation.

“I think it’s going to be fine.” Chiara reassures Y/N. “Harry is really protective over you three.”

“That he definitely is.” Y/N smiles glancing at Beau bonding with Inez. She just needed to be reassured by Harry that it was all going to go well. Bringing their children to a red carpet event had her palms sweating. But attending the premiere with Harry calmed her nerves because she knew he would protect her and the kids, like he always has done.

Nobody really knew about Beau and Inez attending since Harry called it top secret. Not even the makeup artist on the team knew until Y/N told her just a few minutes ago. This was definitely going to be a surprise to everyone.

Once the conference ends, Y/N decides to start getting ready since the premiere was happening in less than two hours.

With Inez in her lap and Beau distracted by a Disney movie playing on the television, Y/N discusses a bunch of makeup looks with Chiara. Going through the makeup artist’s camera roll had the mother wanting to do about ten different makeup looks all at once. Finally, after about changing their mind multiple times, they both settle on a 60s inspired look

Sharon Tate’s iconic eyeliner was the inspiration for the look and Chiara couldn’t be more excited.

-

Watching Y/N swipe pink and blue glittery eyeshadow on Beau’s eyelids was the most adorable thing ever. When the little voice interrupted Chiara doing Y/N’s makeup and asked if he could wear makeup too, it made her heart melt. So of course Y/N traded her seat for the floor and let her son take her seat with his sister.

Now with a giggly Inez leaning against her brother’s chest, their mother hovers over them with an eyeshadow brush while Chiara stands next to her holding about five different eye shadow palettes.

The makeup artist loved the way Y/N let Beau express himself especially as a child. She was just an overall amazing mother.

“Hmmm…more pink.” Beau lisps looking at the mirror Y/N was holding up for him. She smiles nodding, dipping the eyeshadow brush in the pallet Chiara was holding up for her. Adding more pink color to Beau’s eyelids had Y/N grinning like a proud mother.

“You look so handsome, my love!” The mother says making Beau beam.

Just as Y/N stood up, the hotel room door opens revealing Harry dragging a rack of clothes followed by his team. The sight made Chiara’s eyes widen. Y/N actually told him to get the clothes she was supposed to get. Y/N truly was a godsend.

With the help of their mother, Beau and Inez quickly jump down from the chair and rush to their father. Almost instantly Harry drops down to his knees and holds open his arms. Once the two children were in his hold, a huge smile grew on Harry’s face. You could tell he loved and adored his children. Just the way he dropped everything to hug them was so cute.

“Oh! I love your makeup Bee.” Harry smiles lovingly which makes Beau grin ear to ear.

“Mama did it!” The Styles child says making Harry look up and make eye contact with his fiancé. Y/N bites her lip suppressing a smile.

“Mama is just the best right?!” Harry giggles ruffling his son's blonde hair. Beau nods agreeing with his father. The makeup artist almost let out an awe at the moment. Both boys were so appreciative of Y/N, it was the sweetest thing ever. “And look at this little cutie in her pink robe.”

“Gucci!” Inez’s high pitched voice shouts. Y/N laughs shaking her head, Harry just had to teach their daughter how to say Gucci.

“Yes, darling!” Lambert cheers as he unwraps the plastic that protected the clothes hanging on the rack. Chiara loved this environment. It was the most positive space ever.

As everyone begins to get ready for the premiere—Y/N continues to get ready. Clothes are starting to be laid out, Anthony is rearranging all the cameras he was going to take and Jeff makes sure everything is in order before the time arrives for the event. Everything seemed amazing in Chiara’s opinion.

While Y/N finishes getting her makeup done, Harry is sitting right by her legs playing with their children. The amount of stuffed animals the two brought overseas was insanely cute. Watching the family interact genuinely made a smile appear on the makeup artist’s face. Their type of bond was the strongest ever, not like those types of celebrity families that just acted like a fake family in front of cameras.

Just as Chiara is finishing up the makeup look she notices Harry’s hand laid on Y/N’s thigh as she messes around with his rings—including his extravagant engagement ring. The couple’s sweet little gestures made the blonde believe in the word love again.

-

“Baby could you help me put my gloves on?”

Chirara widened her eyes at Y/N walking in the room with both children perched on her hip. She looked stunning in her blue gown, so stunning that it made Harry stand there with his mouth slightly ajar. The makeup artist couldn’t blame him though. Y/N took her breath away too.

“Yes, darling.” Harry smiles helping her place their two already dressed kids on the couch. Once the parents made sure Beau and Inez had nothing around them that could dirty their pretty outfits, Harry grabbed the gloves hanging from the rack. Chiara quickly recognized the blue suit Harry had on was the same suit Beau was wearing and the gown Y/N wore was the same as Inez’s gown.

They were all matching—the father and son were matching and the mother and daughter were matching. That was just so fucking cute.

Watching Harry help Y/N put her gloves on was the sweetest thing ever. He would look up at her to make sure he wasn’t hurting her and when she would nod, encouraging him to continue he just smiled. It was just the little things that had Chiara wishing she had a relationship like theirs.

After Y/N has the blue fabric on her arms, she and Harry then switch to put Inez’s gloves on. The smiley baby showcasing her gums had no clue what her parents were rolling on her arms and she did not seem to care. Once the blue gloves are on Nez’s chubby arms, Harry slobbers a kiss on her cheek which makes her giggle.

Right as Jeff announced the boat was waiting for the couple and their children, Harry bends down onto his knees—which makes Lambert suck in a breath—grabbing Y/N’s blue heels and slips them on her feet.

That action had Chiara’s mouth drop. Y/N didn’t even ask him to put her heels on. Nobody was a gentleman like Harry was. He treated his fiancé and kids so well.

Beau jumping around in the same shoes Harry had on—white boots with a red heart printed on the side of them—looked adorable. The little boy definitely was a clone of his father’s. The curly hair, green eyes and dimpled smile was all from Harry.

“Let’s take a quick shot of you guys!”

Anthony holds out his camera as Y/N and Harry pose for the photo with Beau and Inez in their grasp. When Anthony gets about a dozen pictures of the family, everyone begins to get ready to leave. Before he makes his way out of the hotel room, Harry whispers to his photographer to send him all the photos he took.

Now walking out of the hotel room and into the elevator with everyone had Chiara’s nerves growing. She couldn’t imagine how Harry and Y/N were feeling.

It takes a few seconds to get to the lobby and once those lift doors open, the couple holding their children walk out followed by the team. Ironically the hotel had a distance to The Venice Film Festival which meant they had to take a boat and then a car to get to the prominent event.

And it didn’t help the fact that they were about twenty minutes late.

-

“They said he’s not coming.”

Ludo widens her eyes as she slips her phone in her back pocket. Leaning on the barricade railing she replies to her friend. Harry Styles was not coming to his own premiere?

“I hope he does.” Ludo says glancing back at the red carpet that has the cast of Don’t Worry Darling circling it. The amount of people that were behind the barricade were waiting for the familiar musician. Yet there have been rumors of him not going to attend.

Just as she was hearing whispers about Harry not showing, a car pulled up to the red carpet. Even though it could be literally anyone, people began to scream their heads off. Right as the car doors open revealing the person everyone waiting for, the screams multiply and grow louder. This was the moment Ludo was here for.

Though, watching Harry round the car and opening the opposite vehicle door made her confused as well as everyone else. People in the crowd began to murmur about what he could be doing.

But once the crowd saw a child in his arms, they all began screaming more than they did before. Yet nothing could’ve prepared Ludo for this next moment. A hand grabs onto Harry’s as he helps them get out of the car, when the teenage girl saw who was wearing the blue gown and platform heels, she gasps covering her mouth with her hand.

Y/N L/N was holding her daughter Inez who was wearing the same gown she was. Seeing the mother and daughter duo matching made Ludo let out an awe. Even Harry and his son were matching!

With an arm wrapped around her waist, Harry and Y/N began to walk down the red carpet with their children. It was insane seeing the Styles children faces without a fruit emoji covering their identity. Ludo was in shock at the way Beau looked exactly like Harry. The little boy had the same green eyes and smile—they even had the same dimples. It was the most adorable thing ever.

Inez too! Even though she was still a baby, she carried a lot of Harry’s features like her big brother did.

“Is Beau wearing eyeshadow?” Someone cries from the crowd. That sentence made everyone began to scream all over again. Looking at the Styles' child with squinted eyes made her realize he was actually wearing pink and blue eyeshadow—sparkly eyeshadow. He looked so cute wearing the bright colors on his eyelids.

As Harry puts down Beau, Y/N puts Inez in his arms after she was making grabby hands towards him. Now holding her son's hand, Y/N follows Harry further down the red carpet where the cast was hanging out.

The amount of camera flashes going off was crazy. Paparazzi were trying to get every angle of the Styles family as well as fans.

Everyone begins to smile and laugh at Inez grabbing Harry’s sunglasses off his face and attempting to put them on herself with her chubby little hands. The musician grins helping his daughter slip on his pair of Gucci sunglasses. Watching the two interact was literally the sweetest thing ever. Even though they had cameras on them, the Styles family seemed to be in their own little world.

Now with sunglasses covering up the majority of her face, Inez gives a gummy grin to Harry which makes the cameras go off wanting to catch the father and daughter moment.

As Harry and Y/N finish taking photos with their children, the four of them begin to get interviewed. Even though Ludo couldn’t hear anything, she could just tell Harry was so happy, giggling over something Y/N was saying. They looked so content with each other.

She had read online about the two being such an amazing couple and seeing them in person just supported that statement. Watching the Styles family interact was literally the most wholesome thing ever.

After their quick interview, Ludo notices Harry’s manager guiding them to the cast ready to take photos.

Y/N tries to walk away with the children but Harry’s arm wrapping around her waist stops her. He whispers something in her ear and points at the cast. Even though the couple and two children already walked down the red carpet, they were going to be in the cast photos—even when they weren’t apart of the Don't Worry Darling cast.

Looking at Y/N greet Florence was the best thing ever. Both of the women looked so excited when they saw each other. The gleam in their eyes as they complemented each other was seriously the cutest thing ever. And when the blonde saw the Styles children her smile widened.

Ludo could see Florence shout oh my god before picking up a giggly Beau. The boy smiles, wrapping his arms around Flo’s shoulders. They both laugh about something together which makes the cameras go off, once again.

The cast now began to get situated to take the final photos of the day. Florence had Beau in her arms as she stood next to Y/N who had Inez in her arms also. Harry went to rewrap his arm around his fiancés waist as he swiftly kissed her cheek which made a smile grow on her face.

The Styles family was truly admirable, everyone loved them.

-

Luna didn’t know why she decided to work for a partying catering service. It was always the rich assholes throwing parties and treating their servers like crap. But if you wanted to get paid on time and earn tips, you just had to smile and nod at whatever people said.

Nonetheless she didn’t expect Y/N L/N to throw her fiancé, Harry goddamn Styles a party to celebrate his new movie that’s coming out quite soon.

She had known Y/N was the most beautiful woman ever and seeing her in person made her mouth go dry. The black dress she was in hugged her body perfectly—and her heels, her heels were to die for. Everything about her just seemed perfect.

Watching Harry and Y/N walk in with friends had Luna’s palms sweating. She literally just went to his shows a few months ago and owned a bunch of his merch. Is she a fan? Of fucking course she is. That’s why she had to go into the kitchen to quietly freak out.

Once she’s calm and collected, she grabs her server plate and heads to the bar. Passing by celebrities seemed insane to Luna. Alessandro Michele, Gemma Chan, Chris Pine and even Florence Pugh had her sucking in her breath. This wasn’t like the old money parties rich men usually threw, this was a celebrity party and it made her more nervous than anything.

A loud childish scream makes her glance up from the drinks that were getting poured. Seeing a little boy with curly hair sitting on top of Harry’s shoulder was the cutest thing ever. She didn’t realize the little boy was Beau until she noticed his dimpled smile. Her smile dropped as she took in what he looked like.

He was literally a miniature Harry Styles. The Me Myself & I + Gucci sweater he had on just proved he was Harry’s son.

“Hey Lu.” Ricky, a server greets his coworker. “Do you know if that woman is single over there? She dropped this cloth on the way—“

“This is a baby’s bib which means she’s not single.” Luna shakes her head looking down at the bib. “And who are you even pointing at?”

“Well not anymore—“

“Who? So I can return this for you.” She cuts him off, making him point his hand at Harry’s direction. Following where he was pointing she widens her eyes.

“That lady in the black dress.” Ricky mumbles, walking off before Luna could scold him for not knowing about Y/N L/N being engaged to Harry Styles. He was the type of guy that had birds for brains.

Walking over to the Styles family hanging out with their friends made her palms sweat and knees weak. Not wanting to interrupt their conversation she tries to slide the fabric onto the table but a man with a familiar cross tattoo on his hand looks at her.

What does one do when Harry Styles looks at them?

“S-sorry my coworker said your fiancé dropped this.” Luna stutters, making Harry smile gratefully. She glances at Y/N sitting in his lap engaging in a conversation with Florence. The blonde actress had a baby in her lap—who was most likely Inez—wearing a blue strawberry dress that reminded her of Harry’s Harryween costume. She’s soon come to the conclusion that it was his costume, just a mini version of it.

“Thank you for returning this. My fiancé was looking for it.” Harry smiles, grabbing the bib off the table.

After nodding and smiling politely, Luna turns around and thinks about the interaction she just had with her favorite singer ever. She will be forever thinking about today.

-

tag list: @harrysmatcha @harryspinkpillow @helen-with-an-a @florencepughily @peterparkerbae @toji-dabi-wife @fallonx @drphilssoulmate @cherriesrae @alienorknight @valluvsu @ivegotparticulartaste @ayeshathestyles @hazgoldenstyles @eiffelmezarry @tsukishimawhore @renatavieira @michellekstyles @eleanordaisy @shawnsblue @academiaghosts @japanchrry @agustdpeach @hannahnikohl @hrryscherrys @whoscamila @ch3rryrry @msolbesg @newyorker14 @futuristicpalacegardenpsychic @youusunshineyoutemptress @eunoiamaa @kaitieskidmore1 @gublerscherry @cherryfragrancx @ssuziess @milkiane @golden-hoax @flwrmuse @sunshinemendes8 @your--sweetest--downfall @melllinaa @iluvjj @tenaciousperfectionunknown @cashtons-wife @stellarossii @scenesofobx @manifestrry

[ax-y10]

Step Aside

In which- Wilburs excited to see the Front Bottoms play, but you aren't so thrilled to be crowded in.

A/n: I'm pretty sure I recall the front bottoms playing at shaky knees and I got a real quick idea.

Chapter info: slight panic attack, crowded place, swearing, unnoticed anxiety (brief)

Pronouns: None (You/Yours)

Masterlist:

---

Wilbur didn't notice your increasing nervousness of being in a crowded area, to excited to see the Front Bottoms playing live, jumping around with his bandmates. You were previously squished up against his side, but now you had your phone out ready to text him telling him you were going to the bathroom.

He didn't realise you were starting to walk off until Joe tapped on his shoulder and pointed towards your distancing figure.

"Will? Bud? Y/n is over there. Go see what's happening for us, yeah?" Joe pointed out.

He looked over and saw you turning a corner, and that's when he started to rush towards you.

"Excuse me, sorry. Please move-" he trailed off, finally reaching your form, stopped when you heard his all-too-familiar short breaths, noted from when he gets scared of worried.

"Darling?" He whispered loud enough to not scare you, but also to not alert other people attending the festival.

You held out your arms on either side so he could wrap his arms around you, and that he did. He held you tight but not too tight, and kissed the back of your head to calm you, feeling your rushing breaths.

"Sweet? Match my breathing for me, please?" He spoke frantically, your breathing becoming more sparse and stuttered.

In, one. Hold, two. Out, three. Hold, four.

Ultimately calming down, you twist in his loose hold and bury your face in his neck, your slow tears falling down his shoulder.

You've never been good with crowded spaces your entire life. People think it's irrational: "How stupid? How are you going to do normal things?" One person stated. "Fucking pussy. Get over yourself," A kid in your school stated. The bullying got worse as you kept speaking about it to your close friends, your so-called trustworthy friends shared the secret. Your family also didn't help. They put you in Summer camps, made you do the shopping each week, made you do many activities that required you to be social, supposedly trying to cure your fear. You somewhat got over your fear, but this festival just broke down that barrier.

You broke away from the hug and went to sit down against a border near the edge of the festival, a few people scattered around but not too many to overwhelm you, him following you like a lost puppy to sit with you.

"Wil, you can go back over to the band. I don't mind. I'll stay here." Bu the denied everything.

"I've let them know I'm over here so I'll stay with you just to make sure you're okay."

You smiled and looked over to Wilbur to watch him jump along and sing along. He doesn't like festivals that much, much like you, but you loved how he was enjoying it so much, and it made you fall harder with each song that passed.

Your favourite song started playing but it didn't register in your head as you were too busy looking at your boyfriend jamming to one of his favourite bands. Once he looked at you and smiled, bobbing his head to the music, a large smile plastered on his face, did you realise it was your favourite song.

You soon got over the almost panic attack, and started enjoying yourself a bit more, however you were still at Wilbur's side listening to the various songs playing.

But everything came to an end eventually and once everyone was collected (after being hunted down by Ash) and back in the van, did you finally sit down and fully relax. You'd changed into warm, over-sized clothes from your boyfriend and laid down next to him in his small bunk, scrolling through your messages, winding down for the night. Little did you know, he was watching your smile appear on your face everytime you read the words "I love you" in a message.

"Are you having a happy session at the moment, Love?" He snapped you out of your thoughts.

"...no" You said mischievously, being incredibly obvious as it was a lie.

He threw his arm across your waist, taking your phone and pushing it under his pillow along with his, and snuggled his face into your shoulder.

"Wil, you can't fall asleep before me," You joked, but he grumbled and pushed his face harder against your shoulder.

"Don't get all pouty, I'm sorry. you can go to sleep."

And you watched him fall asleep, listened to his sleepy noises, and felt him relax into your touch as he got increasingly tired, leading you into a deep sleep.