#(i want to watch everything i love it all so much!!!! and then i picked baccano!)

[pboogerswbb]

LET IT SNOW

Paige Bueckers x reader In which Paige and reader spend a snowy day babysitting reader's niece and nephew (loosely based on a request i got weeks ago) Warnings: fluff, suggestiveish? very very very sweet, will make you sick (fluff is very hard for me to write ok be nice) Wordcount: 2.9K A/C: happy christmas eve everyone <3 this is my christmas present to y'all so enjoy this while i take some time to rest and spend time with my family :) unfortunately that means you gotta wait for chapter 2 of so it goes for a little longer but i want to take a break for a few days from writing over christmas! i hope you understand. everyone who celebrates christmas pls spend it eating, drinking (if you're of age), and don't kill your family pls (i know that's much to ask over the holidays let's be real). i'll return to writing so it goes post christmas! MERRY CHRISTMAS GUYS <3

-

“There’s a list of allergies on the fridge, if Mia throws a fit just put her in the stroller and walk her around for a bit, if she won’t calm down call me. Whatever you see in the fridge you can eat, and call me whenever! I’ll have my ringer up and-”

“Chloe-”

“and really call me whenever you need to! And have your ringer up too!”

“Chloe!”

Your aunt’s husband is pulling on her arm, trying to get her further than the front door but 10 minutes have already been spent going through everything for the day.

“Auntie Chlo we’ve babysat before. They’re in good hands,” you reassure, smiling brightly at her. She inhales deeply and chuckles when she realises how long she’s been rambling for.

“You’re right, the kids love you. Especially you Paige, they’ve missed you. Been showing them clips of your games!” Your aunt says, head tilting upwards to look at the blonde girl standing behind you, hands wrapped around your waist. 

You and Paige had been dating for over a year now, celebrating your first of what would be many anniversaries. In that short amount of time the blonde had made her way into the depths of your closest circle, becoming a part of your family. It happened effortlessly, the way she fit into your life, the way she clicked with your relatives. You swore they loved her more than you at this point. This was about to be the first Christmas she ever spent with your family, and just the idea of her with all your loved ones made your chest fill with warmth.

So when your aunt Chloe called you in a crisis on Christmas Eve, her babysitter getting sick at the last minute, you and Paige were quick to agree to look after your nearly 2-year-old niece Mia and 7-year-old nephew Leo. 

“Go! We got this aight,” Paige reassures, resting her chin on the top of your head as she does.

Pulled away by her husband, your auntie waves goodbye and closes the door, leaving you and Paige alone with the kids standing behind you. Before you can even react, Mia’s lower lip begins to quiver, the sight of her mother gone upsetting the small child. 

“Uh oh,” you mumble, Paige swiftly making her way to the little girl and picking her up, pouting her own lower lip to mirror the child.

“Are you sad because you miss mama? She’ll be back later, I promise,” Paige coos to Mia, rocking her in her arms. She’s wearing a white t-shirt despite the snow outside, for some reason she was always warm, and her biceps were growing more prominent as she held the child by her hip. The sight of Paige comforting your niece made your heart flutter, making it hard to tear your eyes away. watching Mia bury her face into the crook of Paige’s neck.

“We’ve got a really fun day planned for you!” You gleam at both of the children, ruffling Leo’s hair. He laughs but pushes your hand off, running to the kitchen.

“Can I have a cookie?” The boy asks, clearly taking advantage of the moment that his parents’ watchful eyes weren’t around.

“No-” you start but Paige is already following him to the kitchen. She was such a pushover, always had been with the kids. Just some pouting, eyes batting and she was ready to bend every which way for them.

“Paige!” You complain as the blonde easily reaches to the top shelf, grabbing a jar of chocolate chip cookies.

“What?” She asks unbothered by your scolding, handing a cookie to Leo, and taking a bite of one herself. “Wanted a cookie,” she mumbles, her mouth full.

“Cookie! Gimme!” Mia babbles, short hands reaching for the cookie your girlfriend is holding between her teeth.

“Oh good God…” you groan, rubbing your forehead, already knowing this was going to be a long day if the kids had the blonde wrapped around their finger this much already. But when Mia giggles as Paige feeds her a part of the cookie, you decide not to care. If there was a time to spoil the kids it was on Christmas Eve.

“C’mere,” Paige nods you over, grabbing another cookie. You scurry into the kitchen, grabbing Mia from her and kissing the little girl’s forehead. She giggles brightly, clearly in a much better mood. You nuzzle your nose into her soft cheek, eliciting more laughs from the baby. The whole time Paige can’t look away even for a second, her heart fluttering with affection. Paige was completely in love with you, and seeing you like this only made her feel it more.

“What are we gonna dooo all day?” Leo interrupts the moment, yanking on Paige’s shirt. She grins and ruffles his hair affectionately. Leo and Paige had bonded quickly the first time they met, and now they’re best friends. In fact Leo facetimes Paige weekly on your aunt’s phone.

“We’ve got some ideas.” The blonde says smirking.

-

The weather is perfect, the gentle winter sun not warming but making everything brighter as the rays reflect off the snow. Snowflakes fall softly from the sky, adding to the already covered ground as you walk behind Leo and Paige, holding Mia in your arms, trying to catch your breath as you climb on top of a hill.

“Isn’t this high enough?” You ask, glancing down, worrying that Leo would be too scared to get on the sled. Predictably so, the two in front of you look over their shoulders, immediately uttering the word “no” in unison

“Auntie Paigey and your big brother have gone cray cray,” you murmur to the babbling Mia, wrapped in her warmest winter gear. 

“Okay, here’s good!” Paige says, finally putting the sled she was carrying down, looking around the group.

“You wanna go first Leo?”

Suddenly the boy looks down, hesitating. It’s pretty steep, especially at first. You could tell he felt unsure, but Paige noticed it too.

“I’m actually lowkey scared, can we ride down together?” She asks, covering for the boy. For a moment your eyes meet with hers, wanting nothing more but to kiss her right now. Paige always had you weak in the knees, but the way she skillfully handled kids only made you love her more.

“Okay we can go together I guess,” Leo complains, deep down relieved. They sit down on the sled, Paige behind the boy, ready to steer.

“Wait!” She yelps, turning to you, blinking fast. “Kiss for good luck.”

Apparently she’d been feeling the same about the kiss.

Humming, you place Mia down on the ground to play with the snow, leaning close to Paige. Her warm lips press into yours, in a loving, gentle peck that let you know she wanted to do so much more, if it wasn’t for the company.

“Yuck!” Leo whines, making both of you giggle.

“Hey, have some respect for your auntie,” Paige grins and pushes the sled forward. Suddenly they’re riding down at such speed you can barely watch. Someone was bound to get hurt.

Both of them scream as the speed accelerates, the sounds echoing in the air. To your surprise they both make it all the way down safe and sound, Paige stopping the sled and jumping off.

“That was so fast!” Leo chuckles hysterically, making your girlfriend laugh too. You could hear them laughing all the way up where you were standing. 

“Ball,” Mia babbles, pointing at a pile of snow. Giggling, you sit down on the ground next to her, beginning to roll one snowball after the other and handing them to the girl. 

“Look Mia!” You gasp to get her attention. Her wide eyes turn to you, long eyelashes fluttering as she watches. You throw a snowball into the air, Mia’s eyes following as it crashes to the ground. Immediately she claps, a wide smile on her face to reward your efforts.

“Babe it’s your turn,” Paige’s voice says as she’s climbing up, trying to catch her breath.

You scoff, continuing to play with the snow for Mia. “Not happening P,”

“Oh you’re scared huh?” The blonde teases, a smug smirk spreading across her face.

Leo gasps. “It’s not scary at all! I was scared at first too!”

You roll your eyes, not falling for their games. 

“I’m playing with my girl here, you boys leave us alone,” you say, poking your tongue out at your girlfriend. She scoffs loud, walking over to you and wrapping her arms around your waist, lifting you up and throwing you over her shoulder with ease.

Leo laughs loud, pointing at the two of you. “Paige is not a boy!”

“Let me down!” You yelp, kicking your legs and arms but it’s no use. She’s much too strong, carrying you towards the sled. Your squeals make Mia laugh loudly, a wide smile spread on her face.

“Look after your sis for a bit, aight?” Paige tells Leo, placing you down on the sled. You’re still giggling, shaking your head.

“I’m not gonna! It’s scary!” You laugh, the blonde sitting snug behind you on the sled, wrapping her legs around you.

“Don’t be such a wuss,” she teases, her arms wrapping over your waist. Leaning in, you feel her hot air tickling against your ear as she whispers. “I gotchu ma, don’t worry.”

With that, Paige pushes off the snowy ground, holding onto you tight. Quickly the speed picks up, fluttering in the pit of your stomach. The freezing cold air tingles against your skin and your eyes water from the cold as you laugh.

“Ahhh P-“ you scream, turning your gaze backwards and finding that, to your shock, the blonde behind you is pushing on the ground to make you go even faster. “STOP!”

Paige giggles into your ear, her arms wrapping around you tight to hold you close. Soon it’s over as you reach the base of the hill, the speed finally slowing down and flutters in your abdomen disappearing.

“Told you it wasn’t so scary,” the blonde grins, helping you up.

“Uh yes it was,” you laugh, grabbing a handful of snow and throwing it at the girl in front of you. Some of it gets onto her face, making Paige pause.

Her mouth turns into a tight smile and her blue eyes widen. Immediately you know you’re in trouble.

“Oh it’s like that huh?” She says and you squeal, already beginning to run when she starts to throw the powdery snow all over you.

“No no no no please!” You can barely breathe, gasping for air and trying to run, the snowy ground making your steps heavy. Paige, being a D1 athlete, easily reaches you. 

“Oh so now you regret it!” She laughs, snow falling into your coat, down your neck, making you scream louder as the girl chasing you wraps her arms around your waist, spinning you in the air. 

“Stop! Paige!”

“Say please,” she orders, her tone lighthearted.

You roll your eyes, hating having to admit defeat, but knowing it must be done.

“Fine! Please, please stop Paige please,” you whine, batting your wide eyes at the girl. She looks at you, finally putting you down and kissing your forehead.

“Wanna hear you just like that later,” she whispers the dirty words into your ear, lips brushing against your skin, tingling. Before you can scoff or tell her off, Mia’s loud cry disrupts the moment.

Both you and Paige hurry up the hill, towards Leo who’s holding his sister, bouncing him gently to soothe the little girl.

“What happened?” You ask, swiftly scooping Mia from the boy and trying her cheeks to see if she was cold. Nope, perfectly toasty from all the layers.

“Nothing! She just started crying!”

But then, studying her face, you notice the redness of her eyes, her mittened hands trying to rub them desperately.

“Aw, she’s sleepy,” Paige says, like reading your mind, grabbing the sled. 

“We should probably head back, she needs to take a nap,” you murmur, trying to soothe the girl in your arms, ear-piercing screams and cries spilling from her mouth.

All four of you hurry to the car, but no attempts to calm Mia down help. She’s exhausted, plump bottom lip quivering as she keeps crying the whole drive home. You could feel yourself getting exhausted, the loud noise becoming overwhelming and stressful. Paige could see it too, the way you were sighing and taking deep breaths. So when you return to the house, she grabs your hand and kisses it before getting up from the car.

“I’ll take her to bed okay? You rest ma,” she murmurs. Relief spreads all over your chest and you smile affectionately.

“How’d I get so lucky?” You ask.

“Nah, I’m lucky. Got the best girl in the entire world.

-

After an hour of the faint sounds of Paige’s lullabies (off-key but she would never admit that) and trying to reason with the 2-year-old like that might help, the cries eventually quiet down. Leo is resting too, playing in his room. You’ve been in the kitchen, making spaghetti for all of you. Checking the clock you realise it’s been about 30 minutes since you last heard any sound from Mia, yet Paige still hadn’t returned downstairs.

Quietly, you sneak your way up the stairs, ever so carefully opening the door into the bedroom to not wake up Mia. But what you find makes your heart flutter - in the dimmed out room, Paige and Mia are both asleep, your girlfriend holding the little girl close. The blonde’s mouth is slightly ajar, soft snores escaping through. For a moment you just watch, allowing the love you felt for them both to spread. You walk over, make sure they’re both covered up by the blanket before sneaking back out, leaving them in bed.

“Leo, come eat dinner soon, ok?” You whisper to him in the other room. His eyes lighting up, the little boy gets up holding a toy dinosaur and follows you downstairs.

“Can I watch The Grinch while I eat? Please please please!” He begs, giving you puppy eyes.

“Mmkay, just this once,” you bend to his will, setting it all up for him. You can’t help but watch Leo getting snuggled up on the couch, a blanket around him, eyes wide staring at the TV. Leaning against the arch into the living room, you feel your body tired from the day, muscles aching and mind exhausted. But your insides are fluttering with warmth, no other word for the specific feeling but pure joy. Walking back into the kitchen you begin to make your own plate of food.

You let your mind wonder, and maybe it’s risky. It’s much too soon to be thinking anything close to it. But since it’s Christmas, you let yourself. Your mind comes up with vivid images of you and Paige, in a house of your own, decorating the tree - Paige the only one tall enough to place the star on top. You can see you two baking cookies and watching Christmas movies, hot chocolate in bed. 

And maybe, just maybe eventually, two children of your own. There are flutters in your heart thinking about building snowmen with your little family, roasting marshmallows in the fireplace, dressing them up in tiny costumes and sending family postcards to your relatives and friends. It felt so far away, yet you could see it so vividly. 

As if she had heard your thoughts, suddenly warm hands land on your waist, Paige’s reflection appearing in the window in front of you. Humming, her front presses flush to your back, fitting against you just right.

“I fell asleep,” she murmurs, burying her nose into your hair and inhaling. It’s like heaven, after a long day, to feel her like this again.

“I noticed,” you reply, beginning to make a plate for the girl as well. She watches closely, following every movement from behind you until her lips find your neck, beginning to press soft, loving kisses along the nape of it. 

Eyes fluttering shut, you hum, turning your head to face the blonde behind you. Hand reaching for your jaw, she pulls you into a gentle kiss, lips sliding against yours slowly. “Can’t wait to see you be a mom,” Paige whispers against your mouth, chest heaving.

A deep blush sets on your cheeks hearing the words, taking them in. The blonde watches your reaction, clearly trying to read you.

“I’m sorry if that’s too much to say this early but I-”

“No,” you shake your head with a smile. “I can’t wait for that either.”

Relief washes over your girlfriend, as she pecks your lips once more. 

“We’re gonna be so good ma, best parents in the world.”

Beaming with joy, both you and Paige walk into the living room where Leo is sitting, eyes glued to the movie.

“Yo! Scooch!” Paige tells the boy, who shuffles to the corner of the couch. Both you and your girlfriend sit in the opposite corner, holding your bowls of spaghetti and getting settled. The blonde quickly wraps an arm around you, pulling you to lean against her side. You’re snuggled up, feeding bites of food to each other and stealing kisses whenever the boy isn't watching.

“I love you,” Paige whispers into your ear, blue eyes sparkling with adoration.

“I love you too Paige,” you whisper back, cheeks rosy and heart fluttering from the perfect snowy day.

-

taglist: @xxloveralways14 @bueckersfive @sierrale8ne @thaatdigitaldiary @lovegalor333 @lupinqs @rosemariiaa @janaelalfysblunt @d3arapril @vamptizm

[sweetdispatch]

We need to talk - Q. Hughes

part 1

pairing: Quinn Hughes x girlfriend!reader

summary: Quinn and his girlfriend have a heart to heart conversation about what happened in the past two days

warning: mentions of sex (nothing graphic), swear words

words: 1.2k

note: continuation to the "The card", thank you for request and pushing me to make second part!

---

When you woke up, Quinn wasn’t by your side, which was unusual because he loved to cuddle you in the morning, especially when he had a free day and didn't have to rush on training. You were laying in bed thinking about the past two days. You and Quinn had an argument. He used the card. You said a safeword. You two promised to talk about it in the morning.

You groaned at the thought of having a confrontation with Quinn. The last thing you wanted was to talk with him about it. You felt embarrassed that this stupid argument had a domino effect and now, you had to explain yourself. You started to wonder if there was even a point of giving him a cold shoulder. It was, you had full right to do it. 

After 30 minutes, you decided to start the day and have the conversation behind you. You couldn’t be mad at Quinn forever. He deserved to hear your point of view and why it hurt you that much. You went into a closet to pick clothes for today and went into a bathroom. You stood in the shower longer than always, trying to collect all your thoughts of what you were planning to say to him. 

You stepped out from the bathroom and took a deep breath before you left the bedroom. There was no turning back now. Immediately you went into the kitchen to make yourself a cup of mint tea. You tried to cut the coffee and you were drinking tea every morning. To your surprise, you saw an already prepared drink on the kitchen island in your favorite mug.

“I heard you going into the bathroom so I made you a tea so you don’t have to wait until it’s ready” You heard Quinn’ words and turned to see him sitting on the couch and reading a book.

“Thank you” You grabbed the cup and took a first sip.

“Also, I bought your favorite donuts. You have them on a plate next to the sink” You looked there and saw three chocolate donuts.

“You didn’t have to go to the bakery and buy them. I would eat something from the fridge” 

“But I wanted” He shrugged. 

You took the plate and mug and sat next to him on the couch. You started scrolling your phone while eating to occupy your mind. You wanted to turn on the tv and watch your tv show but you were too scared. The atmosphere in the living room was tense and the last thing you needed was another argument.

“You can turn on the tv. I don’t mind and you know it” Quinn said, not even bothering to look at you from the book he was reading. 

“It’s fine. I’m almost done” You replied.

After 5 minutes, you finished your breakfast and went to wash your plate and mug. You were doing this longer than always. Everything not to start the conversation about what happened between you in these past two days. You turned off the water and took a deep breath. Quinn finished a chapter and put his book back on the coffee table. 

“I think we need to talk about what happened” He started.

“Yeah, we need to” You replied and sat again on the couch trying to keep your distance. 

There was a silence between you two. None of you wanted to start this unpleasant conversation. 

“I think we should start from the beginning” Quinn took a deep breath. “Why were you so mad after the argument?” 

“Are you serious?” You looked at him and you saw that he didn’t have a single clue. “You said that I’m not doing anything. I get it, you might not see it but I’m cleaning the whole apartment. I’m cooking for you. I’m always washing your suits. I’m doing everything for you to make your life easier so you don’t have to do it and focus on hockey” 

“I never asked you for that” He replied.

“I know, but I’m your girlfriend and I want you to have everything done so you can rest after games” You fought back.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I understand why you got mad but I never asked you for that. Although I really appreciate it. I never saw you doing this and I took everything for granted. It was wrong from my side and I’m truly sorry” Quinn grabbed your hand. “I’m really sorry, I just… I don’t even know what I was thinking when I said it. As I’m thinking now, you’re doing everything here. Sorry for saying that”

“Thanks for saying this but it would be nice if you would start noticing it. It really hurt me when you accused me of not doing anything” You squeezed his hand. 

“I will. I promise to be a better boyfriend and be grateful for the things you are doing. I guess… No, no excuses. What I said was wrong and I need to be better for you. You deserve the world” He brought your hand and placed a kiss on top of it.

“Okay, we sorted things out, it’s time to do something different” You tried to stand up but Quinn stopped you.

“We have to talk about what happened yesterday when we had sex. I know you don’t want to but I need to know for the future” 

“Quinn, drop it. It’s embarrassing” You covered your face in your hands.

“It’s not. We have the word to use it. I just want to know what I did wrong to push you to say it” He gently grabbed your wrists to look at your face. “Please”

“It was too much. I felt overstimulated and overwhelmed by your actions. I needed to cum really badly but at the same time I was too fucked and I said it so you could stop. I’m sorry for this” You said and looked at your legs. Quinn placed his fingers under your chin and you were forced to look at him. 

“Don’t apologise. You had full right to say it. I should be the one to apologise for pushing you too much” 

“I like when you’re rough and dominant but I guess orgasm denial is not my thing” You joked and heard him laughing.

“I’ll remember for the next time. I’m really sorry for the past two days. I was terrible for you” He admitted. 

“Stop it. It was just a misunderstanding between us and things like this happened. Glad we could sort things out” You smiled. 

“Are we alright?” Quinn asked you.

“We are alright” You leaned and pecked his lips. “How about staying on the couch all day and just enjoying the moment of peace?” You proposed.

“I’m up for it” He kissed you again. 

Quinn laid on the couch and pulled you closer to him so could place your head on his chest. You were listening to his heartbeat while he was scrolling through Netflix to find a movie to watch. You two laid in comfortable silence while a movie was played in the background. From time to time, Quinn was placing kisses on top of your head. You were glad that you two were back on the right track. 

[heylittleriotact]

I've never heard this banter and I'm going to go the fuck off.

Firstly: Everything @emmg said. The whole "I want to become a lich" arc is actually incredibly contentious for my death-positive, mortality embracing Rook. Like to the point where she basically tells him at one point: "I really like you, and I really like us, and it's important to me that you're happy, so I won't try to change your mind or interfere with your plans, but I think it's only right to be transparent now about the fact that I can't see a future for us should you successfully pursue lichdom." She's very up-front about it, because she isn't at all comfortable with the radical change of the entire power dynamic of their relationship: they would no longer be equals, and she's not interested in ultimately becoming one more rag that he's dragging behind him (to quote the absolutely beautiful song by Josh Ritter called 'The Curse' which is about an Egyptologist who discovers a mummy who comes back to life and they fall in love but since he is undead and she is mortal, it ends tragically and it reminds me SO MUCH OF a Emm!Lich/Rook romance, or honestly any future romances he might find himself in as a Lich.) Here - listen to it: go. Right now. Cute af music video too:

Secondly: BULLSHIT, EMMRICH. That's such absolute fucking bullshit. "There's always something to discover in the world" and "I think I should never grow tired of that" are both such insanely pompous, self-aggrandizing statements that he flings out there in an effort to frame himself in the light he wants to be perceived in: the Quintessential Academic - forever curious and eternally learning: an inspiration to curious and inquisitive minds everywhere to be celebrated and lauded for his immeasurable services to society.

The truth is, he knows it's bullshit, and is painfully aware that lichdom - even without a partner or someone like Rook is bound to be soul-crushingly lonely. Dude is lonely af and he's still got a fucking PULSE. But he's made it this far in life shouldering the burden of feeling like he'll never find someone. Loneliness isn't new to him, and it's really easy to suggest that after a few thousand years of existence under one's belt that picking up new friends will be as easy as popping down to the pub and saying "hi" to a stranger. Pffft! Trifles!

Emmrich is smarter than that. He knows better than that, but he's trying to convince himself just as much as he's trying to convince Lucanis that having to embrace the fleeting, transitory nature of relationships as he watches the ebb and flow of life and death cycle repeatedly before his eyes is not only what he wants, but it's what will make him happy and it's such a brazen contradiction of himself that if my Rook overheard this she would be unable to keep herself from snorting and going, "... really?"

This man is trying to put himself above love and friendships and relationships in a way that makes them seem like specimens to be studied and written about, when we know that he's probably written no less than a dozen poems about how Rook's hair looks in the sunlight, and is annoying the shit out of Vorgoth and Myrna because all of his letters home since he and Rook got together are less about their progress against the gods, and more about how absolutely wonderful Rook is and how pleased he is that he decided to accompany her on this journey blah blah blah...

He's collected a little family with the Veilguard, and he makes no secret of how much he cares for all of them.

Delusional, pookie: you're fucking delusional.

Lucanis and Emmrich about immortality

[hismercytomyjustice]

Ngl I really enjoyed Via’s arc in Sinsmas. She is just SO MUCH like her father that it both delights and hurts me lol.

Their relationship is an interesting take on struggling to try to break the cycle of abuse/neglect.

Stolas grew up with his father not even knowing his name or showing him a shred of affection. He was a means to an end, a tool. The only way he’s ever received any kind of acknowledgement from his father is by doing his duty. Mastering his powers, entering into an arranged marriage, and producing an heir.

You can just so clearly see how he is trying SO HARD to give Via a different life. He wants them to be a family. For her to never doubt her parents love her. To be the father he never had.

To the point he shoves his own wants and needs so far down that he is barely holding on.

Via going from accusing him of not loving her to realizing that he loves her so much that he forced himself to play the role of a good father and husband. To the point he destroyed himself for her…

And that realization just devastates her.

Stolas getting involved with Blitz was the culmination of decades of forcing himself to be the person everyone else expected him to be. He feels he can’t be loved, but he can be useful. And maybe if he’s useful enough, people will care about him.

The reason his connection with Blitz is so strong is because both of them feel that way. The difference is that Blitz was able to create his own found family (tho it took him ages to realize it lol) while Stolas has always been alone. They’re two sides of the same coin. And while Blitz has spent the past few years healing, Stolas has been descending further into darkness because he doesn’t have that same support.

Via has absorbed so many of his insecurities. Especially the fear of not being loved or wanted despite Stolas trying SO HARD to be the perfect father to her. But he’s not. He can never be because he forgot the old adage of “put your oxygen mask on first before helping anyone else.”

I think that definitely can come across as him being neglectful of her. But to me it speaks to his desperation to be such a good father to her that he tries to hold himself to IMPOSSIBLE standards.

He doesn’t fail Via because he doesn’t care. He fails her because he keeps setting up these unrealistic expectations for their relationship. He massively overextends himself and puts his own wants and desires on the back burner so often that his life is imploding around him out of his control.

He doesn’t miss the stars with her because he doesn’t care. He misses them because he’s struggling to put his life back together after finally taking some initiative for himself. He’s trying to deal with the fallout of wanting a divorce from Stella, but he’s waited so long and he’s so overwhelmed by it all that the date slips his mind. And the instant he realizes what’s happened, he drops everything and goes looking for her.

Via keeps watching him make these promises he struggles with or fails to keep and doesn’t realize until she finds all of the happy pills how much he’s overextended himself for her sake. And because she’s her father’s daughter, she immediately thinks she’s at fault. She thinks he would be happier if he hadn’t forced himself to play house all these years for her sake.

She’s not wrong. If he’d separated from Stella years before, they’d probably all be better off. But he didn’t because of his sense of duty. Stolas’s problem is that he never advocates for himself until he reaches his literal breaking point. By then, the damage is more of a tsunami than a ripple because now his meticulously crafted house of cards is falling down around him faster than he can pick up the pieces.

Via is right that he would have been happier, but not for the reasons she thinks. He did it because he loved her, not out of obligation for her. And also because he is deeply broken and flawed.

Via’s dealing with a lot of complicated emotions too. Her father was willing to sacrifice himself for his affair partner, which she initially believes means he’s picking Blitz over her. But really it’s just Stolas trying to save the only other person in his life who understands him and who maybe cares about him.

How could he live with himself if he let Blitz die?

And it’s not like Stolas has time to sit down and think of a rational plan. He rushes to the trial because Blitz is literally about to be decapitated. And then he saves him the only way he knows how. I think part of him was also convinced that, as much as he loves Via, she might actually be better off without him because he is a wreck. He’s convinced he’s ruined his life and the lives of everyone around him.

I think this is why he doesn’t fight Stella much for custody of Via. Not because he doesn’t care, but because he genuinely thinks Stella is a more stable parent than he is and that Via will be better off with her as a result. The man also lacks a backbone too tho because his self worth is -9000.

But then Stolas doesn’t get executed. And the consequences of his actions hit him like a ton of bricks once the adrenaline and panic wears off. He saved Blitz, but at what cost? And, based on his statement in Sinsmas, it sounds like he would’ve done it all over again if given the chance. Because he’s the one who let Blitz use his grimoire even though he knew it was wrong. Because Blitz was in danger of dying because of him. And because he has a very strong sense of morality and justice too.

Dying in Blitzo’s place was a spur of the moment decision and once the dust cleared, Stolas realized how everything he’s tried to do to keep his shit together has fallen apart at the seams and now everyone knows it.

All Via can see when she looks at him now is that he’s hit rock bottom because of her. Again, not true. But Stolas has tried so hard to give her this idyllic family life, thinking that was the best thing he could do for her. Not realizing that she could see the cracks forming. She just didn’t understand why there were cracks until now.

I don’t think Via actually hates him. I think she hates herself. Convinced she’s the reason he’s hit rock bottom. Why couldn’t she see how much he was suffering? Why would he suffer so much for her? So she’s taking herself out of the equation, just like he tried to with Blitz. If she’s not in his life anymore, maybe he’ll stop killing himself to try to make her happy. Maybe he’ll stop being so miserable.

I think a big part of their arc together has been her going from thinking of Stolas as this perfect and larger than life figure to seeing him start to crumble and now getting a peek behind the curtain and realizing how much of that wasn’t real. And it scares and upsets her that her dad isn’t the perfect person he’s tried to be for her. He’s broken and hurting and she doesn’t know what to do to help because he’s spent her whole life focusing on her.

Not to say that he’s done that well. He genuinely hasn’t. He’s overcorrected so hard that he’s fucked her up in a completely different way because he’s overextended himself. He pushed himself until the illusion of a perfect happy family cracked along with him. He’s also made it difficult for her to know how to help him because he’s sheltered her so much.

I think this sometimes makes Stolas come across as selfish. He seemingly “ruined” his marriage and his relationship with his daughter for Blitz. But really it was just the pendulum swinging wildly in the opposite direction. He was so starved for happiness and connection that now he’s trying to live two separate lives and it’s just not possible and he’s falling apart even faster.

Stolas was so desperate for affection and to be of use that he lets Blitz have his grimoire, under the impression Blitz is attracted to him because Blitz literally tried to seduce him to get it. He also does all of the dirty talk because he thinks Blitz likes it.

I think he initially sets the terms for the grimoire usage because he thinks it’s a price Blitz is more than willing to pay because he showed up trying to seduce him. I think he l also just really wants an excuse to see/spend time with Blitz too. It doesn’t even cross his mind that Blitz might want anything other than sex from him. He’s once again playing a role based on what he thinks is expected of him.

It’s not until Stolas discovers he’s starting to develop feelings for Blitz that he realizes their arrangement is wrong. And the moment he realizes it, he immediately tries to make amends. He hopes Blitz will admit he has feelings for him too, but is willing to step away if not. But he also cares about him so much, he makes sure to give him the Asmodean Crystal so he can freely make the choice.

Meanwhile he has no idea Blitz will just view this as another person trying to abandon him or look down on him. Because Blitz struggles with self worth too and believes the only way people will care about him is if he can be useful. Blitz has a deep seated fear of abandonment while Stolas fears no one could ever love him just for himself. He offers Blitz the crystal to let him know his feelings are genuine and to gauge Blitz’s too.

All of this is to say that I think Via and Stolas will reconcile, hopefully sooner rather than later. I think Via needs some time to process who her father actually is vs who she thought he was. And both of them need to be able to forgive themselves/grant themselves some grace so they can finally meet each other in the middle like Stolas has finally managed with Blitz. Stolas needs to accept Via is grown up now and he can’t shield her from the negatives of the world forever. Meanwhile Via needs to understand everything doesn’t have to be so black and white.

[demonic0angel]

Christmas + Gotham City Spirits

Bruce sipped at his coffee, reading through the recent reports of a case a few days ago. The coffee blend was faintly peppermint-flavored because due to the holiday season, Stephanie had replaced everything in the coffee making station with Christmas themed items.

It tasted good, so no one complained too much.

The chatter in the cave was calming, a distant lull with the sound of his loved ones’ voices. None of them had gone on patrol yet, although they were all dressed in their vigilante suits. Dick and Jason were arguing over the movie they wanted to watch on their semi-weekly Movie Nights, and Cass and Steph were egging them on. Tim and Damian were gone, having left using the Batmobile to pick up something.

They would be back any minute now—

Tim and Damian drove into the Batcave in that moment, and although their parking was gentle, they both flew out of the car like it was on fire. Damian was holding an ice cream cup, despite it being the only a day from Christmas, while Tim was holding a milkshake.

Bruce looked back down at the reports, unconcerned after seeing no blood, limping, or drugs.

“The Batmobile is haunted!” screamed Tim, and Bruce paused in reading his papers. He looked up again and watched as the others approached, confused murmurs and questions filling the air.

“Huh?? What happened?!”

Tim and Damian were trying to explain the events that led up to this moment. Damian was standing next to Tim, who was ranting up and down about what happened.

“Okay, so I was taking Damian for ice cream,” cue some coos from Dick and Steph, with Bruce mentally joining in, “when we were arguing in the car. I hadn’t realized that I had taken my eyes off of the steering wheel until Damian pointed it out. The car was driving on its own! And the autopilot wasn’t turned on!”

Bruce resisted the urge to smack his forehead.

Of course this was how they were discovered. He could almost sense the awkward guilt coming off of the Batmobile from the distance where it was parked in the cave.

“So… you think it’s ghosts?” Steph asked, raising an eyebrow.

Tim and Damian shared a look and then nodded.

“Ghosts?” Jason snorted. “Are you kidding? I bet you’re seeing things.”

“It was real, Todd! Just because you’re brain damaged doesn’t mean the rest of us are—“

Dick interrupted him, “Well, I mean Deadman and Gentleman Ghost exist. Who’s to say that the Batmobile isn’t haunted?”

Jason opened his mouth to argue some more, but Tim spoke up then. “Bruce? You don’t seem surprised.”

Bruce paused on taking a sip of his coffee. All of his children turned to stare at him.

It was Cass who said, “He knows something.”

More than just knew.

Bruce had met and befriended the ghost that haunted the Batmobile. And the Batcomputer. And the gargoyles in Gotham. And the parks. And Arkham Asylum. And Crime Alley. And Blüdhaven. And Gotham City itself.

The point was… Bruce had more than just knowledge on the ghosts haunting the things around him.

————

It had first begun when Batman had started appearing within the city. He had just started working as a vigilante for a few months when one day, he had noticed odd circumstances happening around him.

It happened sporadically, almost randomly enough that he hadn’t gotten suspicious for awhile, but when a pattern was beginning to form, he began to notice.

Whenever he could’ve sworn his hook wouldn’t attach properly to the building, it seemed as though something moved and made it fit perfectly, allowing him to swing to his destination. Whenever he thought that he had lost a criminal, a new alleyway that he wouldn’t be able to recognize would pop up and allow him to block the runaway’s path. Whenever he felt like his computer wouldn’t be able to calculate something or find new information, it would miraculously give him data that he knew for sure that a mere computer could not find.

The most prominent evidence was with the Batmobile. At times, it would speed up on its own, even when he was extremely controlled in how he used the brakes and gas. At others, it would have minuscule but noticeable changes such as adjustments to seating and temperature inside of the car. At one point, Bruce distinctly remembered the car turning and sliding unnaturally past danger, which helped him avoid crashing into a narrow street’s wall when he was dodging gunfire. It had been strange because he was sure that he was going to scrape the car against the wall, but it never happened.

Bruce had personally worked on it with Alfred’s help, so any signs of tampering were impossible. There was no explanation for it, no matter how much Bruce dismantled the car and remade it over and over again.

Even Alfred had that strange look in his eyes now, as if wondering if Bruce had delusions from one too many concussions.

Bruce scoured his library for information, looked up anything on the internet, and even asked informants and help from the few contacts that he knew.

They had a few answers, but none of them made a lot of sense.

In the end, Bruce decided to just confront the problem head-on.

On a lonely summer night, Bruce entered his car and sat in the driving seat, breathing out slowly. Usually, the car did not act out everyday, but today, Bruce had been driving in order to dodge the police that wanted to capture him, and he had seen how the car moved without his turning of the wheel to drive past sharp corners. This had earned him a few precious minutes necessary to throw the police off his trail and allow him to get away.

All this told him was that the car was of help to him, but nothing else.

He started the car, allowing the familiar rumble of his car warm him up. He allowed the Batmobile to run as he thought of what to say.

When he formalized his speech, Bruce cleared his throat and stared at the inside of his car, sleek and polished all over.

“I-I’ve been noticing a few things lately. Strange things happening. I think that you’ve been helping me. I’m… thankful. Thank you for helping me away from the cops today. I appreciate it.”

His voice reverberated inside of the empty car.

“However, I want to meet you. If you’re there. Are you… sentient?” He asked.

The car did not speak.

Well, of course, it couldn’t speak.

He flushed with humiliation as he mentally berated himself. Was he so paranoid, so tired that he was now believing that a car could respond back to him? No wonder Alfred was thinking he was insane.

But in the next moment, he ate his thoughts as the car gave an answering rumble without him revving the car or doing anything.

Bruce stared. Then he said, “Make something move if that was real.”

Another moment of silence. Then there was a click and the windshield wipers began to turn on, swiping across the glass.

Bruce’s breath caught.

“You’re sentient!” He cried, unable to believe it. The air around him began to chill and he watched as the temperature of the air conditioner dropped rapidly until it was low, making his breath come out in vapor. He shivered and looked around frantically.

“Yes,” a soft voice said, “I am.”

Bruce turned to the side, where the voice appeared. A small girl, who looked barely even five, stared at him with wide eyes through a domino mask and a suit that wasn't unlike his. She was tiny, with a black ponytail behind her head and a cape attached to her neck.

He stared and watched as the fabric on her body sparkled with a metallic sheen and her hair flowed in a nonexistent breeze within the enclosed car.

"Are you... a ghost or something?"

The girl smiled. "Kinda." She kicked her feet and giggled. "I'm the spirit that haunts this car. But if you had a plane or a boat, I could haunt those too." She paused and then eagerly asked, "Could you get one? I think it'd be really cool!"

Bruce couldn’t help but smile. “I… I’ll try. What are you, exactly? Can you tell me more about yourself? What are you here for?”

Perhaps he could’ve asked more questions. Maybe he should’ve asked whether or not she was good. She was an unknown variable in his long-term plans, but he couldn’t muster up the animosity needed to interrogate her, not while she looked at him and like him in similar clothes and a smaller form.

“I’m a ghost, and my haunt is your vehicle,” she replied blithely. “I was brought here because my family is also here. They’re also ghosts, and there’s a lot of them around. I think all of my siblings are awake, and so are our friends. A few are still asleep, I think… but I promise we mean no harm. We’re supposed to protect life, as beings who have already crossed to the other side and made a deal with Lady Gotham and Lady Blüdhaven.”

Bruce stared at the ghost in his passenger seat.

“Pardon?”

She explained in more detail. Several centuries ago, Gotham City and Blüdhaven were the haunts of two powerful sister spirits who protected the city and powered it via the emotions of their citizens and their own strength. However, something had befallen them, and they had asked for help from the Ghost King. He had agreed to take over for them, and in one final sacrifice, both city spirits had died and then tied their cities to the Ghost King and his family, who he had asked to assist him.

They all separated and formed their own haunts via some time shenanigans that she would not elaborate on. And thus, several ghosts haunted both cities. There was supposedly one city spirit in Blüdhaven, since it was a much smaller city, and over six in Gotham.

She, ‘Dani’ as she called herself, was one of them.

“We’re usually asleep and we don’t really have awareness or sentience like a normal person most of the time. So it’s difficult for us to age too.” She yawned at this moment. “I’m a weaker spirit, so I have a really small haunt. My big brothers all have a city to themselves, but the rest of us get smaller stuff.”

Bruce asked, “Are you tired?”

She rubbed at the mask that covered her eyes irritably before nodding with another yawn. “I’ll try to come back,” she said, “but I’m usually not “out” like this, so it’s tiring. But the more you take care of me and Gotham, the stronger I’ll get, like my siblings.”

A hand seemed to clench at Bruce’s heart.

More people to depend on him. Another cause to be stronger, faster, and smarter. Further reasons for him to be better, so he could help his city.

“Oh.”

She smiled at him, and it brought a little warmth back into the chill surrounding him. “But I’ll help you. No matter what, we spirits are on your side, Batman.”

Bruce returned the smile. “Thank you.”

It was almost unbelievable, but the amount of details in her explanation proved her right and the way she explained things made sense. No wonder he had so much success as Batman. No wonder it felt like he could run forever on Gotham’s streets and catch criminals all night. No wonder it felt like the city called for him like a beacon, even without the Bat-Signal.

She nodded and in the next blink, she was gone. The temperature increased back to normal. The car was silent and so was Bruce, as he sat in the plush, leather seats and thought to himself. In the end, there was nothing else to do but harden his resolve to do better and help Gotham City.

He met her a few more times, and they officially formed a team, where she would help accelerate the speed of whatever vehicle he was using to get to fight crime and help victims quicker. In return, he would care of the vehicles and allowed her to do what she needed to do without interference.

As time passed, Bruce met the rest of the city spirits.

There was one in Crime Alley, sweet and tall for the age that she looked and laden with bloody pearls that made him avoid looking at her, who was kind and clever. She told him that she had awakened when his parents died, but her gentle condolences did not infuriate him like others did. ‘Jazz’ was her name, and she told him that she would watch over the children in her domain.

He traveled through Gotham City knowing that she would take care of Crime Alley whenever he couldn’t muster up the strength to enter.

There was one in the parks of Gotham, thin and oddly goth, who was stubborn and cool and extremely opinionated. She was even younger than the spirit in Crime Alley, and had a lot of opinions on garden care and vegetarianism. ‘Sam’, she wanted to be called, and she told him not to call her Samantha or she’d make him trip over roots.

He spent money on maintaining the parks in Gotham, and Alfred noted how his own personal gardens in Wayne Manor never seemed to die or wilt.

There was a growing spirit in the computers of the Batcave, gangly and quick-witted and mischievous, who was the same age as the park spirit and grew slowly with advancing technology and only appeared when Bruce was in a rush or desperate. He was named ‘Tucker’, and he liked helping, but only when it was interesting or when he was really needed.

Bruce carefully developed new software and installed better tech every opportunity he could, and the Batcomputer never failed him.

There was another in Arkham Asylum, stern and strong-looking, who was confident and hot-tempered and the same age as the Batcave spirit. She was brave and strong-willed, hating the more murderous patients of the asylum, but had all of the forgiveness and patience needed for the more misguided ones. Her name was ‘Valerie’, and she promised to hold back as many escapees as she could.

He captured runaway patients for her and visited her personally to thank her every time he heard of a failed escape attempt.

There was also a spirit that haunted the gargoyles of Gotham, wily and observant, who traveled from each stone statue for information. He liked investigating things, but hated injustice and lies, and he promised to help Bruce whenever he could find the strength to manifest. ‘Call me Wes’, he had said, before launching into a rant about how annoying the Gotham City spirit was.

They would occasionally exchange information every now and then, with Wes offering blackmail and details for every case he needed.

Bruce had only met the spirit of Blüdhaven once. He was aggressive and murderous, but when Batman had visited the second time for a case, he recognized all of the signs of a spirit’s protection, even though he also attempted to throw him off a few buildings. The Blüdhaven City spirit was hateful but not unreasonable, and although Bruce was encouraged by the other siblings, he decided to just leave the city alone because this ‘Dan’ did not like leaving his domain.

Bruce largely did not bother him. In the future, he would make more frequent trips and bring news of the spirits in Gotham. At least falling beams didn’t drop on him anymore.

He had already met Dani, who haunted the vehicles inside of the Batcave. She loved driving and flying and racing through any part of Gotham. When needed, she could transport herself into any and all vehicles owned by Bruce and his associates, and then power it to be even faster through the strength given to her by Gotham City and the determination of the driver. She was small in size but big in personality, and her carefree, fun-loving personality gave him much relief whenever he needed her as he traveled to wherever needed him most.

He took care of all of his vehicles and crafts, and she pushed him to help quicker.

And lastly, the most impressive and unimpressive spirit of all was the spirit of Gotham. He was a small thing, slender and unassuming, dressed in ragged clothes in his human form with the sharp, haunted eyes of a child from Crime Alley. His name was ‘Danny’, and although he seemed unnoticeable at first, he was noble and kind. When he wasn’t dressed in the starry veil of his spirit form, he was out and about on the streets, helping others as a homeless kid. He helped the forgotten, the downtrodden, the poor, and sick as best as he could.

Unlike his siblings and friends, who were weak and could not be out as a human for long, Danny was not the same. Looking like a small pre-teen, he helped his citizens as much as he could by offering shelter, an extra hand, some random change, and a careful warning.

He supported Bruce in any way that he could, and Bruce wanted nothing more than to make him proud by helping the city.

Time passed.

The spirits, having now awakened with Batman’s debut, began to grow up.

Bruce did not allow himself to be left behind. He grew and learned and trained and did better for his city. The spirits did not appear often, but whenever they were truly needed, they never let him down.

Only a few years into being Batman, he adopted Dick Grayson.

When Dick became Robin, he had been worried about the reaction of the spirits, but they had not appeared angry and even seemed approving, with the way they protected Dick more than Bruce.

He could’ve felt jealous, but really, it was just cute. With how old Dick was and how some of the spirits looked, they could’ve been the same age.

Barbara Gordon soon joined their crew as Batgirl, and the trio helped Gotham by running through its streets for a few more years.

When Bruce had fired Dick in hopes of him retiring and living a peaceful life without harm, Dick had changed his identity of Robin to Nightwing and moved to Blüdhaven.

Bruce nearly had a heart attack from the thought of it, but Danny had laughed and reassured him that Dan had readily accepted him and chosen him as a champion.

“A champion?” Bruce had asked. “What’s that?”

“A champion is a specific hero that a spirit can support and defend. You’re my champion,” Danny smiled, tapping the little batarang-shaped brooch near his heart. “That means I support you. Dan will support Nightwing. He’s possessive, so rest assured that Nightwing will be very, very protected by him.”

And so Bruce breathed a sigh of relief, let him go, and tried not to worry.

Not that long after, Bruce met Jason Todd, who was also quickly adopted.

Jazz had seemed particularly happy, always at the edge of Bruce’s vision whenever she could as he and Jason soared over Gotham roofs.

“Is he her champion?” Bruce had asked Danny. “Since he’s born and raised in Crime Alley?”

Danny chuckled, but he seemed tired. “You’ll see.”

Bruce did not see, because Jason had presumably thrown someone off of a building and then ran off to find his mother, getting killed in the process. By the time Batman had arrived in a plane with its engines nearly combusting from going so fast, it had been too late.

Jason, his son, was dead.

He would no longer smile and make quippy remarks. He would no longer help Alfred in the kitchen. He would no longer fall asleep on the manor’s library, an open book on his lap. He would no longer fly over Gotham and be his partner.

Red, yellow, and green would no longer be by Batman’s side.

Because Robin was dead.

The grief nearly consumed him. He blamed himself. He blamed the Joker. He blamed Jason. He blamed Dick.

He blamed the spirits.

Anything and everything was a target of his sorrow and rage.

He couldn’t help it.

He had already lost family once and became a vigilante to fight crime.

He didn’t know what to do now that he had lost family again, when the cause of death was vigilantism.

Gotham City wasted away as the spirits and Batman mourned for the little Robin who would never fly again, buried in Gotham soil.

Bruce mourned and hated everything in equal measure.

"It's your fault!" He screamed, as Danny stared at him blankly. He was dressed in his extravagant and otherworldly spirit form, his face and eyes covered by a long veil train covered in stars. His clean, neat form only seemed even more infuriating as Bruce felt like he was dissolving from his own madness. "If-If Jason hadn't been— if he had— if only—!"

Danny responded to none of his words until he insulted Jazz, the Crime Alley spirit, for Jason's death. It had been an irrational statement from grief, but they cared not one whit. All hell broke loose as Bruce was kicked off of the roof. He narrowly got away by using his grappling hook, but after that, things began to go badly.

Computer malfunctions, never ending pop music in the Batcave, engine failure, vehicles that refused to open or work properly, tree branches that deliberately slapped him or roots that tripped him on every step, sirens of the Arkham Asylum wailing every day and night, gorgoyles that would move and bat away his grappling hooks— the spirits began to turn against him in petty revenge and pranks.

It had not resulted in deaths of innocents, as even they knew limits, but they never failed to make his life even more miserable or inconvenient than ever.

It wasn't until Batman, in his exhaustion, nearly fell off of a roof and became a splatter on the ground in Crime Alley, and was picked up by the neck like a scruffed kitten by a disgruntled Crime Alley spirit, did it all stop.

"I see you haven't been having a good time," Jazz said. She looked like a teenager now, with her hair in ironed curls and a blindfold around her eyes as she frowned at him.

"... yes," Batman said, because he almost never apologized in his life and in his depression, felt like it was unfair that she got to act out while he could not.

"Batman," she said, her voice stern. "We mourn with you. After all, Jason is one of our own too. He came from my domain and I allowed you to meet him. Danny accepted him as a protector of Gotham and he flew alongside you for years. It was Dani that tried to get you to him faster. It is Danny's soil that he is buried in. His brother lives in Dan's domain as his champion. We all mourn for him, Batman. That does not give you the right to unnecessarily take your anger out on us or any of Gotham's citizens."

"I am meant to protect Gotham," he spat. "I was chosen as his champion!"

"And yet you're breaking limbs for petty crimes. You're terrorizing the streets like a madman. You're making the citizens scared. You are a symbol of redemption and change in this city, Batman. You are not a sign of fear or hatred. Get your act together. Batman is still needed."

Then she dropped him on the roof and left.

Bruce went back into mourning, licking his emotional wounds, but none of the spirits pranked him anymore.

They seemed... pitying.

Bruce apologized to Jazz and blamed it on grief. She forgave him easily, and his world was nothing but gray again.

He tried, but it was hard. Dick did not care enough to come help, lost in Dan's city and his own mourning for his little brother while Barbara had been forced onto the sidelines from her paralysis, which left Bruce on his own, adrift and untethered, unable to blame anyone and unable to unleash his anger. Alfred was there, but like always, he was only a stony pillar in his life. The spirits refused to handle his rage, so all that was left was just an ache for a lost son and a mindless need to run himself to the ground to perhaps quicken his journey to join his family again.

It was the spirits who helped him once more.

Danny subtly nudged Timothy Drake in his direction, and he soon became another Robin with Stephanie Brown and Cassandra Cain joining his team.

Bruce got better, but he was not perfect. He was still angry and hurt and ever-so-slightly lost. But he continued on.

After all, if he quit now, then what was all of this suffering for?

The spirits continued to assist him, along with his family. They were powerful, not omniscient, but no matter what, everything they did was for the betterment of Gotham City.

Time passed with Tim as his Robin, when Jason came back.

With a hunger for revenge and to test Bruce's love for him.

Bruce was so, so, so tired.

He loved his sons. His daughter(s). He loved his family and his duty and he loved Gotham City, but sometimes, it felt as though it was pulling him apart.

Danny and the other spirits (especially Jazz and Valerie) had always lectured him on taking breaks and knowing when to rest, of knowing his limits and being willing to quit when necessary, but Bruce always found it difficult.

As he watched Jason almost self-destruct in his rage and hatred, Bruce wondered if they would blame him if he quit here and now.

But he didn’t.

Things changed. Jason had changed from that sweet, intelligent, charming boy into a young man with a short fuse and an even quicker urge to kill. He beat up Tim, killed dozens of people, and took over the underworld, all to spite Bruce.

In a way, he was proud and so disappointed.

It was Jazz who approached him on the nights that Danny usually spent with him.

Bruce looked up at her, lovely and beautiful and so hauntingly tall that she looked like a monster, just like the domain she haunted, both dangerous and amazing all in one.

She bent down and shifted into her civilian form, one with black and white formal wear, her hair straightened into its natural state as she smiled with bright, turquoise eyes. This way, she looked soft and gentle, a little different from her cold and strict persona as a city spirit of the most violent part of Gotham.

“I can help you with Jason,” she said, when he turned to look at her. When his eyes widened, she continued, “I was going to do it anyways, but I want you to know what you need to do as well.”

“… what do I need to do?”

Jazz smiled. “Just try to welcome him back? It will all work out.”

“Both Jazz and I will help you,” Danny then spoke, from Bruce’s other side. When he turned, he saw Danny, dressed in a ratty hoodie and scuffed up sneakers. Danny smiled teasingly. “I can’t let my champion go without his family, right? Jason has been chosen as Jazz’s champion. You don’t have to agree with his methods, but that is a problem of Jazz and Jason.”

“And I don’t care,” Jazz said tonelessly. “I don’t like it, but it has proven effective. Do not try to stop him too much, Batman. He needs to learn for himself.”

Bruce scowled, hating the fact that both spirits condoned murders, even if they were the deaths of criminals and drug dealers, but Gotham City and Crime Alley had spoken and he had learned his lesson before in rejecting their advice and going against them.

They were not his enemies.

They did not have to agree with him, and he was not beholden to their beliefs either.

They trusted him, and they were his closest and longest allies.

He sighed. “I understand.”

Jazz smiled, patted his arm, and then disappeared back to her domain. Danny stayed behind and they chatted for a long while before he too, had to leave before coming back for the next meeting.

It was frustrating at times, how the spirits could not always be there, but Bruce knew that they could not help it. They still had not gained enough strength to appear constantly, and they tried their hardest to help him even in their passive states.

Bruce sighed and moved on to try and coax Jason into a healthier, less murderous lifestyle with a lot less lecturing and judging, which seemed to shock Dick and Jason. (He pretended not to be offended by this.)

When Bruce saw Jazz next time in her spirit form, he felt a little emotional and sentimental when she appeared with a symbol of Jason's Red Hood on her chest, tying her fur coat together as a brooch, not unlike the brooch on Danny’s chest that looked like Batman’s signal.

Jason got the help he needed from Jazz (Bruce wasn’t entirely sure how this was done since neither of them nor Danny said a word about it to him and Bruce knew that Jason had never met any of the spirits), and soon, he began to integrate himself back into the family. Tim was a little resistant at first, but things were looking up.

But this was life, where the chaos never ended.

Soon, Damian joined the team and tried to kill Tim. Bruce barely held himself back from shipping him straight back to the League, but Danny and Dani knocked some sense into him, and even Jazz came to scold him heavily. Bruce was lectured day and night by disappointed city spirits and eventually, he taught himself to be patient and kind to his youngest son, who had been torn away from a life he knew into one that was very, very different.

Damian was insufferable at times, but Bruce found that he truly did love his son. He grew up kind and honorable, and in the end, it felt worth it.

Bruce wished that life would become sunshine and rainbows, but this was Gotham City, covered in smog and clouds and haunted by a teenage ghost who was friends with a tech geek spirit and a goth spirit. Things happened one after another and although the spirits prevented some things from happening, it was inevitable that they could not help him when he was not on Gotham or Blüdhaven soil.

Bruce got knocked into the timestream. Danny traveled with him and throughout the different timelines, several other city spirits appeared, even Dan, and they helped him survive and get back to his family.

And finally, when Bruce was reunited with his family, with his sons and daughter and mentally adopted daughter and butler, he could finally breathe a sigh of relief.

————

Things had been relatively peaceful now, with no major fights or violent disagreements between any of his children or family. Even the city had been calm for awhile, most like in preparation for the holidays.

Bruce snapped out of his memories when his children all turned to him, staring intensely for answers. He blinked as they all stared at him with wide eyes.

"B?" Dick asked, raising an eyebrow, "what do you think?"

Bruce was quiet.

He hadn't meant to keep the secret for so long, but he just could never find an opportunity to bring it up.

Eventually, as his children all stared at him with growing concern, doubt, and confusion, he said, “No, it’s true. Both Gotham City and Blüdhaven are haunted.”

There were gasps and then cries of confusion and demands for answers. Tim looked at him for clarification, as Damian gloated over the fact that he and Tim already knew. Bruce’s lips twitched in a smile before Jason suddenly asked, “Wait a minute! If it really is haunted, then how do you know and not us? Did you meet them before?”

Bruce tilted his head as his children turned to look at him again. Then he said, “I knew them in my first year of being Batman.”

“That was before I adopted,” Dick muttered to himself, but everyone only looked even more interested.

“So you met them? The ghosts or whatever? Can we see them right now? Are they in the car?” Stephanie rambled.

Bruce thought about it. The spirits did not mind being outed (in fact, they had protested to being kept a secret and Bruce was constantly nagged about his poor habit of doing so), so they wouldn’t be angry if he brought the entire family to meet them now.

It was high time his children met the spirits of the city.

Bruce nodded. “I can take you to meet them. I have to give them their Christmas presents anyways.”

They all cheered again and burst with more questions. Bruce ignored them, even Dick who was climbing him like a tree and whining to know more, as he collected the presents that he had gotten for the spirits. He went to the Batcomputer, still ignoring Dick and Cass who were now hanging off of him, and typed a short message into a document.

‘Meet up at Amusement Mile in 10 minutes.’

He left it open, as Tim then asked, “You can communicate with the ghost through the Batcomputer? Are they actually ghosts?”

“You’ll see,” Bruce said, as Dick and Cass were now attempting to choke him for answers. He collected a few more presents and a laptop. He tossed his kids off of him and dodged another attempt by Steph to catch him before he whistled.

He threw a pair of keys to Jason, who looked at it, confused.

“Take that bike, will you?” Bruce asked, pointing to the shiny new black adventure bike. “You can follow after the car.”

Jason whistled as he finally recognized the new bike. “Damn! When the hell did you get this beauty?”

Stephanie raised a hand enthusiastically. “Can I come with?!”

“Hop on, blondie. Can we go now?”

Bruce resisted the urge to sigh.

For a moment, he was unsure of himself.

For so long, the existence of the spirits were solely his. No one around him knew that they were there.

And now, both sides, his family and the spirits, would be officially meeting for the first time.

He shook off the thoughts and got into the Batmobile, where the rest of his team followed. He made sure that all of them were wearing the appropriate gear and uniform, since it was already winter and only growing colder. Damian complained but Dick was able to wrap a scarf around his neck.

Bruce didn’t fully close the door again when Alfred walked into the cave and asked, “When will all of you expect to be back, Master Bruce?”

He paused. Then he said, “Do you want to come with, Alfred?”

“Oh dear. Whatever for?”

“To meet the ghosts!” Damian spoke up for Bruce. “Come with us, Pennyworth. It’ll surely be interesting.”

Alfred sighed, though there was a touch of fondness before he also entered the Batmobile. Cass easily surrendered the passenger seat to him, slipping into the back.

Jason, from the new bike, laughed and crowed, “Hell yeah! Now it’s a full party!”

Bruce couldn’t resist a smile as he patted the steering wheel. The Batmobile began to purr and soon enough, they all sped out of the cave and through the streets of Gotham. The sun was starting to set, casting the world in orange hues. His children were all in the backseat, chattering and making theories as Jason and Stephanie joined in on their own comms. Both he and Alfred sat together in companionable silence as Bruce idly drove.

Then, as they reached a good spot, he let go of the wheel and said, “Dani, your turn.”

The car swerved out of control and just as Tim and Dick yelped loudly, the car steadied itself, straightening, and then immediately went into overdrive, zipping through the streets. The view outside of the windows passed into a colorful blur too fast to see as the engine rumbled like thunder.

“Holy Batman!” Dick screamed with a laugh as they swerved and turned crazily, narrowly dodging a sharp corner.

Everyone in the car tilted dramatically before Dani righted the car again and they all dropped back into their seats.

“Good heavens!” Alfred cried, hanging onto his chair tightly with wide eyes as the car continued accelerating into impossible speeds.

Bruce just smiled, sitting still while his kids were all squealing from the rapid maneuvers of Dani. They all looked like they were having fun though, and Bruce just held tightly onto the presents as Dani approached Amusement Mile.

After nearly jumping over the gates, she immediately slowed down to a smooth halt in front of an empty food court in the abandoned theme park.

“Oh my god, I think I’m dizzy,” Tim complained.

“You’re so weak,” Damian snipped back, although he looked a little dazed himself. Meanwhile, Cass and Dick were beaming wide smiles, looking as though they wanted to do that again.

“The autopilot wasn’t on, so was that one of the ghosts who controlled the car?” Dick asked cheerfully.

Bruce nodded, avoiding Alfred’s sharp glares. “You’ll meet them all today.” He left the car, helping out Cass and Tim. Jason and Stephanie arrived moments later.

“B! What the hell?! Why were you going so fast?!”

“It was the ghost!” Tim said. “He was controlling the car.”

“‘She’,” Bruce corrected. “It’s a she that’s controlling the car.”

When everyone turned to look at him critically for more answers, he turned his face away and opened up the laptop that he took from the Batcave. He opened it and placed it on a table placed in the outside food court. It turned on with a blink and Bruce put in the password.

“… did you just type 696969?” Stephanie asked, sounding extremely amused.

Bruce sighed as his kids all snickered like preteen boys.

The place around them was empty and dusty. His children, after observing him for a moment as he typed away on the laptop, silently found seats around him at the tables of the food court, all seated close to each other. Alfred remained standing, looking around in a slightly confused fashion but unwilling to say a word. Bruce looked down at his feet, where grass and weeds were growing in the cracks of the neglected cement.

Then he focused on the laptop again and pressed a few buttons on the laptop before taking a step back.

His kids all perked up. Even Alfred straightened the tiniest bit.

There was a crackle.

And then—

“Batman!” A voice called.

Everyone turned to look at the car, where Dani was sitting on top. She was dressed in her civilian clothes, a pair of jeans and a regular sweater. She waved happily, lovely and warm like sunshine. Her hair was tied up in a ponytail and when she hopped off of the roof of the Batmobile, it bounced around her face in wild waves.

She approached and everyone but Bruce stared in confusion and fascination.

“I thought I’d finally come out since you didn’t say anything,” Dani explained to Bruce. She turned to his kids and waved. A few waved back.

A new voice appeared. “Ugh, what took you so long to bring me here?”

Tucker stretched. He was also in his civilian form and he wiggled his fingers playfully when the others whipped their heads around to gape at him. He sat down at a table and said, “You took forever to bring me out. When is everyone else coming?”

“Already here,” Sam said, bored and in full goth, stepping out of a patch of grass to sit next to Tucker. “Wassup, Bruce.”

Bruce acknowledged her with a nod.

“We’re here,” Wes said, coming out of the walls with Valerie by his side. Both were also dressed casually. “Sorry, are we late?”

“We still have the other three,” Sam said. “B is introducing us to his kids.”

“Finally!” Valerie snapped, sitting down with a huff. “We’ve been telling you to tell them for so long!”

Bruce said, “I know, but none of them figured it out until now.”

“Hey,” Dick complained, “How are we supposed to know? They’re ghosts!”

Bruce gave him a level look. “Through observation and careful inspection. You should’ve—“

“Lay off of them, Bruce,” Sam interrupted with a small smile. “We kept ourselves hidden from them because it seemed like you didn’t want them to know.”

At this, everyone glared at Bruce, while he just sighed. Dani spoke up and said, “It was because I was careless today that they noticed. Don’t blame it on them.”

Another figure stepped out of the shadows and Jason startled, standing up. “Wolf?” He blurted, and Bruce looked over to see Jazz walking to them, a black helmet over her head and wearing a bodysuit. She paused when she saw Jason, gave a small wave, and then sat down next to Dani, who cheered when she saw her.

“Jazz!” She said, tackling her in a hug. “I haven’t seen you in forever!”

Jazz laughed. “What are you talking about? We saw each other the other day, remember?”

The five spirits burst into excited chatter, since it was rare that they ever met up like this, all together at once. Usually, it was only a few one-on-one meetups and Bruce knew this, so he stayed silent as did his family, giving the spirits the space needed to chat while also allowing his family to observe. Jason looked moody, but didn’t say a word.

Out of nowhere, Dan dropped in from the air, dressed in a stained bartender’s uniform. He scowled at Bruce.

“Couldn’t you have chosen somewhere closer to Blüdhaven? I had to travel over the entirety of Gotham City just to get here!”

Bruce bowed his head in apology. “I’m sorry. Next time, I’ll make sure it’s closer.”

Dan scoffed. “You better,” he snapped, before he made a complete 180 and beamed at his sisters. “Jazz! Dani! You’re looking lovely today!”

Bruce’s family stared between him and the Blüdhaven city spirit.

“Are there… more?” Stephanie asked, after sneaking over to him while the tables of spirits chatted.

Bruce nodded and raised a finger for one.

Tim also slid over and said, “They don’t look like ghosts.”

Damian, having crept alongside Tim, muttered, “They don’t look important or powerful either. Father, what is going on?”

Alfred sighed. “Young masters, please sit down and stop standing around and whispering.”

They sat down. Tim and Steph shared a seat, both hanging on via a buttcheek as Damian had pushed Tim off of his. Bruce didn’t say a word, though he was inwardly exasperated and already regretting this entire meeting.

Dick was staring at Dan critically, while Jason was staring at Jazz with a frown. They obviously knew each other, but Bruce still didn’t know how. Cass was just looking between all of the spirits, looking slightly confused.

Finally, the last guest arrived. Footsteps sounded from nearby and Danny jogged over to them with an easy smile.

“Sorry, am I late?”

“Yes!” All of the spirits shouted, glaring at him.

Danny just grinned and then looked over at Bruce. “Hello. Finally showing us off?”

Bruce nodded. Then he stood up and said, “Everyone. Meet the city spirits of Gotham City and Blüdhaven.” He began to gesture to them as he gave introductions. “This is Dani, the spirit of the Batvehicles. She controls all of the Batvehicles in the cave. This is Tucker, the Batcomputer spirit. This is Sam, spirit of all plant life in Gotham City. This is Wes, spirit of Gotham City gargoyles. This is Valerie, the Arkham Asylum spirit.”

This earned several shocked looks and gasps. Valerie gave a polite nod with a hint of pride. Bruce moved on.

“And this is Jazz, the Crime Alley spirit.” Jason’s expression twitched. “This is Dan, the city spirit of Blüdhaven, and this is Danny, the city spirit of Gotham City.��

Danny smiled at them.

When he finished, there was a burst of noise and confusion. Bruce endured it all for a moment before he raised a hand, quieting everyone, and then said, “Let me explain.”

Bruce talked about how he noticed them in his first year of being Batman (he got a very strong glare from Alfred for keeping this from him), then how he met Dani and befriended all of the other spirits. He talked about how they helped him, how they accepted the Robins as protectors of the city alongside Batman, how they taught him and assisted him in vigilantism, and how they were fundamental in protecting him and the city.

He went on to explain what and who they were in more detail, and when he described Jazz and Danny, everyone stared in a mixture of disbelief and awe. When it was done, everyone just stared at him with bafflement on their faces.

Bruce shifted uncomfortably. Alfred’s gaze was especially cutting.

“Wait… so… you’re saying that these all-powerful spirits look like… this?” Stephanie asked, clearly trying not to be rude as she gestured to them all.

Tucker snorted. “This isn’t our real form. It’s just our civilian one, so we can interact with you guys.”

Tim asked, “Could we see it? Your real forms?” He turned to look at Bruce questioningly, who just looked at Danny.

Danny shrugged with a smile and waved a hand in front of his face. In an instant, a veil slid over his head and back, inky black with twinkling stars lighting up the inside. He wore a formal vest and cape tie, with his coat shoulder robing him. His brooch shone brightly over his heart.

The air began to chill even further than the winter night.

Jazz took off her helmet and her red hair fell down in curly waves, her bodysuit exchanging for a dark fur coat and a long, blue dress with black gloves. Pearls circled her throat and wrists, dripping with blood. Her brooch flashed and Jason straightened his back at the sight of it.

Dan sighed and his bartender uniform melted away into a dark blue policeman uniform, formal and distinct. His skin turned translucently green and his hair bled white. His hat covered his eyes as he leaned back in his chair slowly. His brooch, cut in the shape of Nightwing’s symbol, was bright against his dark clothes.

Tucker waved his hands and his casual ware was exchanged for a high-tech suit that wasn’t dissimilar to Batman’s own appearance. However, there was no cape and the color was more gold and brown than black and gray. The white eyes were exchanged for a visor that flashed.

Sam brushed a hand against her skirt and her outfit turned into green and purple, something like what Poison Ivy would wear stretching and growing over her skin. Leafy clothes and flowery details covered her body until she could’ve blended into a garden perfectly. Flowers began to pop into existence beneath them all.

Wes shook his head and everything about him turned into granite. His clothes became formal, like a suit from the 1800s, and horns and wings began to grow from his head and back stiffly. He sat in his chair, unmoving and still.

Valerie flicked her hair behind her head and her yellow clothes began to bleed into white with red stains. She wore a uniform that looked like the combined versions of both a nurse and a doctor, with a cloth covering her mouth and red goggles over her eyes. Her curly hair seemed to have grown even messier.

Dani was the last to show off her form, and she spread her arms and her clothes transformed into that unique style she had developed not too long ago, something that looked like a cross between Batman and Robin. It was all black and gray, with yellow, green, and red accents. She had a bright yellow belt and a long cape that glimmered with holographic shapes.

“Ta da!” She cheered. “What do you all think?”

The air had become bone-freezing cold, frost appearing on Bruce’s eyelashes and his breath turning into white clouds. It was cold before, but now it was blood curdling. There was a pause where the spirits all looked at each other before they switched back in an instant, and the temperature flew up, warming them immediately.

Everyone sighed from the relief, and Bruce handed Alfred his cape, who sighed before taking it begrudgingly. Then in that moment, his kids stood up and approached the spirits as they immediately went to chat with one another, completely ignoring Bruce.

Dick ambushed Dan, who didn’t seem unhappy with him as he was immediately pulled into an animated conversation with him. Bruce recalled how Jazz and Dani talked about how much Dan liked his eldest son, so it was no surprise.

Dani was chatting with Stephanie and Cass, waving her arms exaggeratedly as she talked. Steph looked at her like she was the cutest thing on the planet, while Cass stared at her like she was an interesting, but endearing bug underneath a magnifying glass.

Damian and Tim were chatting with Valerie, Sam, and Wes in a serious conversation. They seemed to be debating something, with Damian and Valerie mostly doing the talking with Tim and Sam interjecting every once in awhile. Wes looked as though he was trying to instigate an argument, however, as everyone glared at him whenever he talked.

Jason had already pulled Jazz into a corner of the building, and they leaned against the wall and talked quietly, shoulders pressed together.

It looked… intimate.

Bruce almost wanted to march over there and pull them apart, but he barely held back when Danny and Tucker approached their table. Tucker immediately pulled Alfred into a conversation about the maintenance of the Batcomputer, mostly with the both of them complaining about how the kids were so messy around the keyboard.

Danny sat next to Bruce and said, “So why did you call us here?”

Bruce blinked, pulling his gaze away from his son and the spirit of Crime Alley. “What?”

“Why’d you call us here? You usually don’t summon us all at once.”

Bruce said, “Dani accidentally revealed herself to Tim and Dami. I thought it was high time that I introduced all of you.” Danny looked back at his siblings, all who were deep into their conversations.

Bruce followed his gaze, watching his kids have fun and make friends with the spirits.

He felt satisfied, looking at them. He wanted nothing more than for his children to be happy, safe, and protected. The spirits had helped him many times when he was still starting out as Batman, giving his advice and narrowly saving his life multiple times.

Now, hopefully, they would help his children too.

Bruce continued, “And it’s Christmas.”

Danny didn’t turn to look at him, only humming, “That’s true. It is the holiday season.”

“I got you and the rest of the spirits presents,” Bruce said, and Danny perked up.

“What?! Are you for real?!” Danny cried excitedly. “Can I see? Please? Now?”

Bruce laughed. He presented the gift to him, and when the other spirits took notice, they also approached, pulling away from their conversations. Jason and Jazz were the last to come over.

“Ooh, what is it?”

“Open it!”

“Do we also get one?”

Bruce passed out their gifts as his kids also crowded around and heckled them into opening it.

One by one, they all opened their gifts.

Dani received a bucket full of (human) treats and snacks, with a bottle of motor oil at the bottom. She cheered when she saw it and immediately opened a bag of gummies to share with everyone else.

Sam received several packs of the seeds of poisonous flowers and plants. She happily took it as the people around her took a wary step back away from her.

Tucker received a Bluetooth speaker. He declared that he would use it to annoy Bruce and Tim into sleeping whenever they stayed up too late, and everyone but Bruce and Tim cheered.

Wes received a high quality camera. Tim offered to help him use it efficiently, and he accepted, with both of them leaving the table to chat about it.

Valerie received a tube full of anesthesia. Like Sam, everyone took a step away from her as she hugged the capsule to herself.

Jazz received the bike that Bruce had asked Jason to bring. She jumped up and down and thanked him profusely and for some reason, Jason glared at him for it.

Dan received a photo album. He took a peek and then closed it tight, smiling to himself as he refused any questions asked. Bruce knew it was a photo album of the few times he was able to take pictures of the spirits, as well as an entire horde of Dick’s photos.

Danny received the deed to a new building built in Gotham City, an observatory tower for the stars. When he saw it, his face split into a beaming smile like a miniature sun and when the other spirits saw it, they also congratulated him, especially Dani who wanted to see it as well.

“It’s still being built,” Bruce explained, but Danny didn’t seem to care.

“Thank you so much!” He said happily, admiring the deed to the building in his hands.

Bruce felt various eyes from both spirits and humans on him. He didn’t mind. He smiled and enjoyed how much they all loved the gifts they got from him, gifts that they deserved. As all of the spirits admired their presents and chatted with his children, Alfred turned to him.

“If I recall correctly, I believe that you have mentioned them before. They must have been the friends you mentioned a long time ago, hm?”

Bruce nodded. “They’ve been with me since I first started.”

Alfred hummed. “They seem like good children.”

Bruce smiled and nodded again.

The hours passed and eventually, Sam and Valerie couldn’t handle the strain anymore. They disappeared back into their domains, signaling the end of the reunion. More and more spirits began to leave, with waning enthusiasm as their strength was being drained from being out too much. The car and laptop were left behind by Dani and Tucker when they disappeared. Only Jazz and Danny seemed relatively fine, as the rest began to leave back to their haunts. They still looked tired though, and Jazz politely excused herself.

“You’re leaving already?” Jason asked, as Jazz straddled her bike.

She nodded, her helmet covering her face once more.

“We’ll talk more later?” Jazz said, and Jason gave a firm nod.

“At 2. At the usual place.”

She nodded and left, fading into shadows.

Danny was the only one left. He held the deed in his hands and smiled sweetly. “Thank you, Bruce. You should go home now. Spend some time with your family. We appreciate the gifts you’ve given to us, champion, and do not worry, we will watch over the city and your family.”

Bruce gave a nod.

Danny reached over and put a hand on his shoulder. The weight of it was heavy and significant, but it also spread a warmth through Bruce’s body.

It was an extra blessing for the night.

Bruce gave him a minuscule dip of his head. Danny just smiled and like a cloud, dissipated.

Bruce released a small sigh of relief.

Truthfully, he wasn’t sure what he had felt about his kids and the spirits meeting. He wanted the spirits to protect them. He wanted his kids to accept them. He was just… scared. For some reason.

But everything had gone well.

The spirits had always loved his children, and his kids were never probably not able to offend them. After all, they were also vigilantes of Gotham, and all of them risked their lives on the daily to help the city.

It was no shock that they got along like a house on fire.

The blessings of the spirits meant a lot.

His children would now have extra help by their side to keep them safe if he wasn’t able to.

It was Cass that spoke up and brought him out of his thoughts.

“B? Home now?”

Bruce nodded.

He felt… strangely full. Like eating a full meal. He felt satisfied and content.

He smiled, then. “Shall we go do some last minute Christmas shopping?”

Alfred sighed, as the kids cheered, enthusiastically agreeing since they now wanted to open their own gifts after watching the spirits. Bruce couldn’t help but laugh as Cass stuck by his side and Damian insisted on picking another fight with Tim with Jason instigating as always.

Bruce blinked and looked up as he felt something cold fall over his face.

Snowflakes drifted down, bright against the dark sky.

Alfred hummed. “It’s snowing. Master Bruce, shall we go back into the Batmobile?”

Bruce smiled.

“Yes. Let’s go.”

It was Christmas Eve. And with his family by his side and the blessings of the spirits, Bruce had nothing else to worry about for awhile.

“Wait, B! We’re not patrolling today?”

Bruce shook his head. The spirits had agreed to patrol for him, so he could spend the entire day with his family. They all looked surprisingly hopeful at him, even Jason.

Yes, it was a good day today.

Tomorrow would be even better.

“Nope. Today and tomorrow are days all to ourselves!”

|||||||||||||||||||||||||||

Merry Christmas (Eve)! I hope you guys enjoyed this fic. It’s scary how the year is already starting to end. Ty to @meditating-cat for betaing my fic for me!

Me: *writing a Bruce-sympathetic fic*

Me: Is this character development (for me)?

This fic is meant to be comical and fun, so I tried to breeze past the sad parts as best as I could.

At one point, Danny was acting too mature and this fic was starting to look like a Spirit Halloween ship fic, so I had to quickly change things up :,/

This fic is inspired by this idea specifically, but also about the Gotham City spirit Danny AU on my blog here. (Look at the tags for more).

Wolf is Jazz’s vigilante name and she is part of my assistant!Jazz AU.

[monstersflashlight]

Advent calendar: Day 20. Misfortunes and Sexullus Phallicus

A/N: This one is about Miss Santa, and let’s say she’s a holiday witch, to make it easier. Also this is very ridiculous and I love it, if it makes you cringe… I’m sorry (but not really). Enjoy! And happy Christmas Eve to those who celebrate!

Miss Santa x fem!reader || magic, sex pollen, dub-con, pegging, sex toys, dirty talk (kinda)

When you started dating Miss Santa, you weren’t expecting to be as many problems as there were. You expected it to be hard, because not everyday you started dating a magical being that could teleport and conjure shit out of thin air, but dang if it wasn’t even worse than you expected.

First week dating, you accidentally activated a magic spell that made all elves lose the holiday spirit for a whole day. Which didn’t seem too bad, but then you had to watch how mad they were when they had to work extra hard to recover that lost day of work. You apologized so many times the word lost its meaning.

When you were dating for a bit over a month, you accidentally sent the big dude (aka Klaus himself) a picture of you wearing only a red hat and two pom-poms… (Yeah, strategically placed.) You had to apologize to him, too, much to his amusement and your girlfriend’s dismay.

But the misfortunes didn’t end there.

You were visiting her in the office, looking around as she finished the paperwork for the day, when you saw a weird looking plant. “What kind of plant is this?” You asked, leaning in and inhaling deeply.

She looked up instantly. “Don’t smell tha-” She warned, but it was too late. “You smelled it.” She sighed, face palming as she stared at you. “What am I going to do with you?” She asked rhetorically.

“What?” You looked at her, confused and blinking slowly. Your brain felt a bit fuzzy. “What did I do now?”

“You inhaled the pollen of the Sexullus Phallicus,” she said as if that explained everything. You looked at her puzzled, expecting more information. “Sex pollen, my love, you inhaled sex pollen,” she said, sighing again and looking completely done with you. But the tiny smile at the corner of her lips reassured you a little.

“What’s going to happen to me now?” You asked, a bit confused, but most of all, a bit scared.

“You are going to get incredibly horny, and you’d be insatiable for a few days.” That didn’t sound too bad. Don’t look at me like that. It is bad. You are going to be needing to be filled constantly.” You smirked, liking the sound of that. “Sometimes I don’t know why I put up with you,” she added, all dramatic.

“Because you love me,” you sing-song-ed at her, smiling big. She tried to hide a mirroring smile, but she failed.

“We are in so much trouble,” she lamented a second later, picking up all the papers she was working on and stacking them in a neat pile. “We need to prepare, we need to move. We might not have enough time to get home…” She was panicking.

“Relaaaax, I’m all fine,” you told her, your hands fanning your suddenly too hot face. And then the pain started. “FUCK.”

She looked up instantly, staring at you and teleporting to your side in less than a blink. “What? What happened?”

“It hurts. It hurts,” you repeated over and over, falling to the ground and adopting a fetal position.

She looked anxious, her face turning a light shade of green. “What hurts, my love? Tell me so I can help.” She kept fussing over you, her hands hovering over your body because she wasn’t sure where to touch you.

“My pussy. I need you to touch my pussy,” you said between pants, your thighs rubbing together but providing no relief at all.

She choked on a breath, and you caught her almost laughing, but the frown on her beautiful face never left. “I gotcha, I gotcha… Don’t worry my love, we’ll get thru this. I’ll fuck you until you are so drained you can’t even blink without thinking about my cock.” Her words made you whimper. You want that. You want her cock.

“Please, Santa, please… I need your cock,” you begged, squirming on the floor, reaching for her and pulling her head down until you could kiss her lips softly.

The moment she snapped her fingers, she was naked and had a harness appeared around her narrow hips. Your heart was beating a thousand miles per minute. “Now, now… Who has been a naughty girl this year?” She asked, teasingly. You almost wanted to laugh at the silly pun, but your pussy was so wet and your clit so needy, that you could only whimper. “Sorry, sorry, my love. You know I joke when I’m nervous,” she apologized. “Are you ready?” She questioned either way, always worried about you.

“Yes. Yes. Yes,” you chanted. She snapped her fingers again and your clothes disappeared. You sighed in relief as she moved over you and positioned her purple dick over your clenching pussy. “Please, Santaaa…” You begged again.

“Whatever you desire, my love,” she whispered. She leaned down to kiss you deeply as her hips thrust forward until she was buried as deep as possible.

“Is not enough, not enough, not enough…” You shook your head from side to side, your body tensing under hers.

“Shit, okay. Okay.” She snapped her fingers again, and you felt your pussy filled to the brim, making you scream her name as you tried to wriggle your hips to get it deeper. “This size better?” You nodded vehemently, grabbing her by the hair and pulling strongly until she whined and started to fuck you with intent.

“More, more, more… Santa, more!” You kept telling her, as she puffed and huffed as she tried to go as deep and fast as possible. She was thrusting so hard your body was moving across the floor of her office, your hands scratching her back until you smelled blood.

It was glorious.

Your first orgasm was earth shattering, and you screamed her name so loud you were sure the big man heard you all across the north pole. But you didn’t care. All the world could be listening and you’d be chanting your love and adoration for her cock for them to hear.

But she didn’t stop. And you didn’t ask her to. You needed more. You needed all. So she kept pounding into you until you came, and came, and came again.

Her strength was starting to flatter after your fifth orgasm, but you still hadn’t had enough. So you flipped her over and started riding her with desperation. She was flushed and sweaty, her hair stuck to her face and her eyes glassy after such an effort. She’d never looked so hot.

At some point, she teleported you to your house, her dick never leaving your hungry pussy. It lasted three days, and she had to make you eat and drink as she kept you full of cock, using special enchanted dildos that kept fucking you even when she left for the bathroom.

By the time it ended, you’d never felt so well fucked in your life. She would never know that you did it on purpose, and you were the one who sent the plant to her…

A/N: Thank y’all for joining me for this Advent Calendar, it’s been so fun to write: I explored some kinks, wrote weird monsters, and overall I think it was a very fun experience, let me know what y’all thought.

[lucyrose191]

CALM IN THE STORM| H.SPECTER

Pairing: Harvey Specter x Wife!reader

Summary: The entire firm knew how temperamental Harvey Specter was and whenever he was in one of those moods, they knew it was going to be a painful day, until they found the only thing that could calm him down.

Warnings: none.

Suits Master List

Harvey Specter could be described as many things; arrogant, rude, uptight, stone-faced and most certainly hot headed. It wasn’t hard to piss him off but it was certainly difficult to calm him down and once his mood was ruined the entire day was doomed.

It was quite frankly anyone’s worst day whenever Harvey wasn’t in a good mood because they always took the brunt of it and there was no way to fix it.

Or so they thought.

If there was one thing anyone would say about Donna Paulsen, it was that she knew everything, which meant she knew exactly what would calm Harvey Specter down.

His wife.

Y/N Specter wasn’t a lawyer, she was an aerospace engineer which was just as, if not more impressive than being a lawyer and Harvey Specter worshipped the ground she walked on.

After watching Mike Ross leave Harvey’s office with near tears streaming down his face, Donna had enough and picked up the phone.

Y/N’s attention was momentarily drawn away from her computer at the sound of her office phone ringing but continued looking through data as she answered "Y/N Specter speaking."

A sigh of relief was heard through the line before Donna’s voice filtered through. "Y/N! Thank god! I don’t know what the hell is up Harvey’s arse today but he’s nearly made Mike cry three times and it’s only 10 o’clock, can you please come and save us," her husband’s secretary practically begged.

Y/N smiled, leaning back in her chair, work forgotten. This wasn’t the first time she had received a phone call like this and she found it hilarious just how much her husband built within people, he was a real softy around her.

Luckily for her, she had a lot of freedom in her role, she had proven herself for many years before that she was now able to come and go from work as she pleased, being fully trusted that no matter how often she was hear her work was always done.

"I won’t be long," she said before hanging up, not wasting time in grabbing her things to make her way to her husband’s workplace.

As she walked towards her husbands office, Y/N bit down her laughter as she saw the obvious signs of relief on everyone’s faces as she walked by.

"Y/N you have no idea how happy I am to see you," Donna greeted her as she approached her desk, "He’s miserable in there."

Y/N looked through the glass into her husbands office and found that the redhead was telling the truth, the heavy frustration on her husband’s face was hard to miss.

She gave Donna a smile before making her way into Harvey’s office.

The man sighed heavily hearing his office door open, not looking up from the case file open in front of him. “I thought I said I didn’t want to be disturbed.”

Y/N smiled, “and does that include me?”

Harvey’s head snapped up at the sweet, smooth tone of his wife’s voice, feeling the tension in his shoulders deflate just from her presence. "Y/N?”

“Hey handsome." She smirked slightly, walking around his desk, he turned in his chair just as she stood in front of him.

He looked up at her in the same way he always did, there was nothing but pure love in those eyes, “What are you doing here?"

Y/N smiled lovingly at him, stepping forward to stand between his legs, wrapping her arms around the back of his head. “You’re scaring your colleagues.”

Harvey rolled his eyes, sitting up to rest his hands on her waist. “They’re ridiculous.”

Y/N hummed, “maybe, but how could I deny the chance to come and see you?”

“Fair point, I can understand the struggle of not seeing my handsome face for a couple hours,” Harvey replied, dead serious, smiling as his wife rolled her eyes and gave him a gentle slap to the shoulder.

“What’s got you all worked up, darling?” She asked.

Harvey released a deep breath, sparing a glance to the case sitting open on his desk. “I didn’t even want to represent the guy but Jessica knows him, I know him to be a complete prick."

Y/N thought for a moment before inviting herself further into his space, forcing her way into his lap, not that he was complaining, he just tightened his grip around her, leaning back into his chair. “Well, how about I treat you to lunch?” She proposed.

Harvey smiled tiredly. “I’d love that, baby." He replied, earning a bright smile from his wife who leaned forward to press a loving kiss to his lips before standing back up, pulling him up with her,

“Come on then, we’ve kept Ray waiting long enough.”

The smile on Harvey’s face was a stark contrast to the frustration he had been hounding earlier and it was all down the angel in front of him who wouldn’t even allow him to grab his coat, too persistent in dragging him through his office door.

As they made their way out of the building, they paid no attention to the uncomfortable weight that seemed to lift from everyone’s shoulders.

One thing for sure is that the entire firm were relieved for the existence of Y/N Specter.

[writerwhowritesao3]

Mildly obsessed with the idea that angels (and nephilim) see more colors than humans do.

Jack doesn't realize that sometimes he sees things that Sam and Dean don't. It just never comes up.

But then one day, he and Sam are poking around one of the storage rooms in the bunker, and Sam discovers a big box of prisms in various shapes and sizes.

"Oh man, I used to love playing with these when I was a kid!" he says with a huge smile.

"Are they game pieces?" Jack asks, picking a pyramid-shaped one.

"They're called prisms," Sam says. "Come on, I'll show you."

Sam takes Jack up to the roof, the latter carefully carrying the box. On the way up, he explains about light refractions. Jack listens with rapt attention, as he always does whenever Sam teaches him things. He's pretty sure that Sam is the smartest human in the world. Or, at least, the smartest human that Jack has ever met.

When they get to the roof, Sam shows him how to angle the prisms just right so that a rainbow appears on the floor.

"It's like magic!" Jack exclaims.

"Nah, it's just science," Sam laughs.

Science was so freakin' cool.

They spend the next few minutes holding up multiple prisms, trying to get the perfect angles to combine the rainbows together into one big super-rainbow.

"Okay, I got these four to merge," Jack says, holding two prisms between the fingers of each hand.

"Almost." Sam nods. "I think if you maybe lift them higher, you can get the colors to touch."

"They are touching," Jack says. "See?"

Sam looks at the ground again. There's about an inch and a half of space between each rainbow.

"The color right next to the violet on this one is overlapping with the color next to the red on that one, and then also the color next to that color," Jack continues.

Sam moves his gaze from the ground to Jack. He tries to spot the kid's usual tells—the ones he has whenever he tries to pull a prank on him, Dean, or Cas.

"What are the names of those colors, by the way?" Jack asks, and then clarifies: "The English names. I only know them in Enochian."

Sam realizes that Jack isn't joking around.

"It's so weird. These colors are everywhere, but I've never been able to find crayons that match them," Jack continues.

"Um...I don't know, buddy," Sam says. He tries to keep his tone casual. "I bet Cas knows, though."

"Probably," Jack agrees. "Cas pretty much knows everything."

Sam chuckles and shoots a quick text to Dean:

something weird on roof. bring cas

Dean and Cas materialize on the roof a few seconds later. Castiel almost never flies in the bunker; he's learned that most humans find it unsettling and rude to suddenly appear before them, and he doesn't want to make his human family uncomfortable in their own home—and he wants to set a good example for Jack.

Cas looks worried. He wouldn't fly if he didn't think it was absolutely necessary. Sam feels mildly guilty for how he phrased his text.

"What's wrong?" Dean immediately asks, already scanning the roof for potential threats.

"Nothing's wrong," Sam says. "Can both of you come over here real quick?"

When they do, Sam points at the colors on the ground.

"Are these rainbows touching?" he asks.

"No," Dean says, at the same time that Cas says, "Yes."

"You and Dean can't see these colors?" Jack asks, bewildered.

"They can't," Cas answers. "Humans can only see a certain spectrum of color. Other species, like mantis shrimp, can see more. But still not as many as angelic beings."

"So you and Jack just see a bunch of crazy colors all the time?" Dean says. "That's trippy as hell."

"How are we just learning about this now?" Sam says.

"It's never come up," Cas shrugs. He goes over to Jack and picks a couple more prisms out of the box to inspect and angle in the sunlight.

They stay on the roof to watch the sunset. Sam and Dean ask Cas and Jack if they see any extra colors. They do.

Later that night, Jack tries to describe the colors that he and Cas can see. He's unsuccessful, but the effort is appreciated.

One of the ways Jack tries to describe the colors is in terms of taste, physical sensation, and sound. Which is how Sam and Dean learn that angels and nephilim experience varying degrees of synesthesia.

[valkyrieromanoff]

WRAP ME UP: Dilf! Anakin x f!reader

synopsis: caught up in the Christmas rush, you took charge of buying all the presents to give your boyfriend a well-deserved break. But as the day winds down, you realize you’ve forgotten the most important gift—his. Determined not to let him down, you scramble to come up with a surprise that’s sure to make this Christmas unforgettable.

warning: MDNI, 18+, unprotected sex, pussy eating, dirty talk, implied age difference.

words: 4.1k

a/n: Hello there, hope you’re all having the best Christmas ever! 🥰💖 I whipped up this lil oneshot as a gift just for you, filled with all my love and holiday vibes 🎁✨ Sending hugs, kisses, and festive cheer your way~ mwah! 💕🎄

So why don't we just wrap me up? A little bow and ribbon, best thing you've been given Baby, come and wrap me up I'll be under your tree, hurry up and find me

Christmas always seemed to come with a whirlwind of chaos—the kind that swept through the house like a winter storm. There were decorations to hang, meals to prep, and endless checklists to tick off. Putting the kids to bed at just the right time so you could sneak the already-wrapped presents under the tree was practically an Olympic sport. Not to mention the milk and cookies the little ones had spent the day making; someone had to nibble on those and leave a convincing crumb trail.

Whew. Just listing it all was exhausting.

This year felt even more complicated, though. Add a divorce to the equation, and you had the perfect recipe for a holiday headache. Coordinating a peaceful gathering between your boyfriend’s ex-wife’s family and your own was no small feat. For Anakin, this was the first Christmas since his split from Padmé that would take place at his

He wanted everything to be perfect. Not for himself, but for his 10-year-old twins, Leia and Luke. He had insisted on getting a live pine tree—a massive, fragrant beauty that now stood proudly in the living room. He’d spent hours stringing lights and hanging ornaments, meticulously ensuring no branch was left bare. But let’s be honest, the finer, more delicate touches weren’t exactly Anakin’s forte. That’s where you came in, adding cute little details like hand-painted pinecones and glittery snowflakes.

Despite all his efforts, there was still so much to do. Anakin even took it upon himself to clean out the attic so Padmé and her new partner would have a place to stay—a task you eventually had to step in and stop. Watching your older boyfriend juggling it all—exhausted and overwhelmed—was enough to make your heart ache.

“Babe,” you’d said, placing a hand on his arm as he tried to untangle yet another strand of lights. “Why don’t you let me take care of the gifts? You’ve got enough on your plate.”

Anakin had protested at first, brushing it off like it wasn’t a big deal. “I don’t want you running around and tiring yourself out,” he’d said, his furrowed brow softening slightly at your concern.

But you’d been ready for that. “We already made a list,” you’d assured him with a grin. “Half the stuff is online—I can knock it out without even leaving the couch.”

That had earned a laugh, the kind that made his shoulders relax and his blue eyes light up, even just for a moment. “Sometimes I forget that,” he’d teased, shaking his head.

“You forget a lot of things, old man,” you’d shot back, your tone playful as you nudged him gently.

And so, the task had fallen to you. You’d tackled it with determination, checking off each name on the list like Santa himself. Leia’s little scientist kit, the one she hadn’t stopped talking about after a trip to the mall. Luke’s robotics kit, perfect for building his dream spaceship. For Padmé, you’d chosen an elegant set of rose-scented moisturizers, oils, and bath salts—practical but thoughtful. Even her date wasn’t forgotten; you’d picked out a bottle of wine that struck the perfect balance between classy and casual.

Each gift was wrapped meticulously in festive paper—greens, reds, stripes, and prints of reindeer prancing through snowy fields. Big, shiny bows crowned them all, turning the pile beneath the tree into a picture-perfect scene.

But as you stood back, surveying the neatly wrapped packages, a realization hit you like a snowball to the face. You’d forgotten the most important gift of all. The one for him.

Your heart sank, and the cheerful glow of the tree suddenly felt a little dimmer. How could you have missed it? After everything Anakin had done to make this Christmas special, after the hours he’d poured into creating a magical holiday for everyone, you’d forgotten him.

You spent most of dinner lost in thought, your mind racing to come up with a way to fix your mistake. Buying something online was out of the question—it wouldn’t arrive in time. The stores had surely closed by now, and even if they were miraculously open, you doubted you’d find anything meaningful enough to give him. You could still picture the chaos that had unfolded in stores that morning, people scrambling to grab last-minute gifts. No, it had to be something special, something that mattered.

“Hey, you outdid yourself, baby.”

Anakin’s voice pulled you from your thoughts as his arms wrapped around you from behind. His touch was warm, steady, and so familiar that it sent a wave of comfort through you despite your swirling anxiety.

You sighed, startled by his sudden presence. You hadn’t even heard him approach. “I could barely get Leia to sleep,” he murmured, his breath warm against your neck. “She wouldn’t stop talking about the scientist kit Santa brought her. And Luke?” He chuckled softly, the sound deep and content. “He’s passed out upstairs, hugging his present like it’s a long-lost friend.”

His satisfaction was evident, a proud smile curling his lips as he nuzzled into your neck. The light tickle of his growing stubble sent a shiver down your spine.

“That’s… that’s great,” you murmured, trying to match his warmth, but the weight of your forgotten gift tugged at you like an anchor.

“Baby?” Anakin’s voice softened, his concern breaking through the comfortable silence. He turned you in his arms, his large hands settling on your waist as he studied your face. His blue eyes, stormy yet full of affection, locked onto yours. “What’s going on? You’ve been quiet all evening.”

You hesitated for a moment, the words catching in your throat. Finally, you whispered, “I didn’t get you a present.” You bit your lower lip, the admission laced with guilt and shyness. “I—I forgot.”

Anakin’s reaction wasn’t what you expected. His smile widened, his features softening as he tilted his head. The corners of his eyes crinkled in that way that always made your heart flutter. “Baby,” he said, his voice low and full of warmth, “you’re my present.”

His words caught you off guard, the simplicity of them sending a rush of warmth through you. You stared at him for a moment, your chest tightening with love—and then, suddenly, inspiration struck.

“Oh,” you breathed, a smile spreading across your face as an idea took root. “Just give me a minute. I’ll be right back—I need to take care of something.”

Anakin raised an eyebrow, bemused but curious as he watched your sudden burst of energy. “What are you up to now?”

“You’ll see,” you said with a mischievous grin, your excitement bubbling over as you slipped out of his grasp and hurried toward the stairs. You moved quickly, your steps light yet deliberate as you tried not to wake the children. Whatever guilt you’d been feeling was now replaced by an eagerness to give Anakin a gift he’d never forget.

A few minutes later, with a few fewer clothes, you were ready. Calling out to him softly, you hoped he would like your surprise gift. The door opened, and Anakin's mouth dropped open in awe as he took in the sight before him. You were draped in red lace lingerie that caressed your curves like a lover's touch, hugging you in all the right places. A crimson bow adorned your curls, and satin ribbons were artfully wrapped around your body - a bow around your slender neck, another cinched around your tiny waist, and delicate strands encircling your hips and thighs. You looked like a tantalizing holiday treat, a gift just for him.

Anakin stood there, speechless, his blue eyes drinking you in like a man dying of thirst. A wolfish grin slowly spread across his face as he closed the door behind him with a gentle kick of his foot. "Merry Christmas, baby," he purred, his voice low and husky with desire. "And what a very naughty, very sexy gift you are."

You smiled coyly, tilting your head up to meet his heated gauze. "Merry Christmas," you murmured, your breath hitting as he closed the distance between you. His lips captured yours in a feverish kiss, the taste of rum-spiked eggnog mingling with the intoxicating flavor that was uniquely him. It made your head spin and your knees go weak.

"Fuck, I love you so much," Anakin groaned against your skin as he trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat. His teeth grazed your pulse point, making you shiver and arch into him. You could feel the evidence of his arousal pressing insistently against your belly, and it made you ache with want.

His hands roamed your body, mapping out every curve, every dip, every secret place that made you gasp and moan. He palmed your breast through the delicate lace, rolling the hardened nip. Anakin's hands continued their sensual exploration, his fingers dancing across your skin like a symphony of sensation. He cupped your face gently, tilting your head back to claim your lips in another kiss. His tongue delved into your mouth, stroking against yours in a tantalizing rhythm that left you breathless and wanting more.

"You're mine," he growled possessively as he broke the kiss, his blue eyes burning into yours with an intensity that made your heart race. "All mine, my beautiful Christmas present."

His hands moved lower, skimming over your ribs, your hips, the soft globes of your ass. He gripped your rear, pulling you flush against him, letting you feel how hard he was, how much he wanted you.

"I'm going to unwrap you slowly," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "I'm going to savor every inch of you, like the rare and precious gift you are."

His fingers found the bow at your neck, and with a gentle tug, the ribbon slipped free, fluttering to the floor. He kissed your collarbone, your shoulder, the swell of your breast as he worked his way down, untying each ribbon, baring more and more of your skin to his hungry gauze.

You trembled under his touch, your body singing with desire, wanting to be touched, claimed, loved by him. Each brush of his lips, each nip of his teeth, each caress of his hands sent sparks of pleasure racing through you, building the heat simmering in your core to a fever pitch.

"Please, Anakin," you whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulders. "I need you. I need to feel you inside me."

He groaned at his pleading words, his control hanging by a thread. "Patience, baby," he murmured, even as his hands made quick work of your lingerie, tugging it down your legs and leaving you bare, save for the ribbon cinched around your waist and the bow adorning your golden curls. "I thought you were my gift, not the other way around," he teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Anakin guided you to sit on the edge of the bed, his large, warm hands on your hips steadying you. He knelt before you, his eyes dark with desire as he drank in the sight of your naked body. Slowly, reverently, he leaned forward and took your breast in his mouth, his tongue swirling around your hardened nipple.

You gasped at the sensation, your back arching to press more of yourself against his eager mouth. He sucked and nibbled, his teeth grazing the sensitive bud, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. He lavish attention on your breasts, his hands kneading the soft flesh, his mouth hot and wet against your skin.

Time seemed to blur as he devoted himself to worshiping your breasts, licking and sucking until your chest was flushed and damp with his saliva. Your nipples throbbed with need, craving for more of his touch, more of his attention. Soft, needy moans spilled from your lips, growing louder with each passing moment.

"Shhh, baby," Anakin whispered, his voice a low, soothing rumble. "You don't want to wake the kids, do you?" There was a note of genuine concern in his tone, even as his lips curved into a playful smile. "Can you be quiet for me?"

Nodding eagerly, you bit your lip, determined to stifle your cries of pleasure. Anakin smiled proudly, his eyes shining with adoration. "That's my good girl," he praised, pressing a tender kiss to your belly before trailing his lips lower, down, down, until he reached the ribbon tied around your waist, he undid it with his teeth, letting it gather the pile of clothes on the floor.

Anakin gently spread your legs, his hands firm but gentle on your thighs as he positioned himself between them. He looked up at you with a mischievous grin, his blue eyes dark with desire, before lowering his head and burying his face in your pussy.

His hot breath ghosted over your sensitive folds, sending a shivering through your body. Then, with a low groan of appreciation, he dragged his tongue along your slit, savoring you as if you were a banquet, his first meal in decades.

"Fuck, you taste so good," he murmured against your skin, the vibrations of his voice sending sparks of pleasure racing through you. "I could eat you all day, baby."

He lapped at you hungrily, his tongue delving deep into your wetness, seeking out every hidden crevice. He circled your clit with the tip of his tongue, teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves until you were squirming beneath him, your hips bucking against his questing mouth.

Anakin moaned in approval, the sound muffled against your flesh. He seemed to be enjoying this as much as you were, his enthusiasm evident in every lick, every suck, every nibble of his lips. He alternated between long, slow licks and quick, darting flicks of his tongue, keeping you on the edge of ecstasy.

His hands gripped your thighs, holding you open for his oral assault, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking with yours as he held your gaze while he licked you, the intensity of his stare sending your arousal soaring.

"You like that, baby?" he asked, his voice rough with lust. "You like how I eat this pretty pussy?"

You could only whimper in response, your eyes fluttering shut as the pleasure built inside you, coiling tighter and tighter. Anakin grew in approval, his tongue redoubling his efforts, fucking you with it as he sucked hard on your clit.

"That's it," he encouraged, his voice a low, soothing rum.

"Fuck, baby, I'm, I'm gonna cum" You mumbled, the words getting mixed up and tangled in your mouth, the pleasure he was bringing you making everything else blurry and confused.

Anakin's eyes darkened with hunger as he looked up at you, your words spurring him on. He doubled his efforts, his tongue delving deep into your entrance, fucking you with long, languid strokes. He alternated between plunging his tongue inside you and circling your clit, keeping you teetering on the edge of ecstasy.

"That's it, baby," he murmured against your skin, his voice muffled but still filled with encouragement. "Cum for me. Let me taste you, feel you coming undone on my tongue."

He sealed his lips around your clit, sucking hard as he thrust two fingers inside you, curling them just right to hit that spot that made you see stars. Your legs began to shake, your thighs trembling against his head as the pleasure built to a crescendo.

"Fuck, Anakin," you cried out, your voice breaking on a sob of pure bliss. "I'm gonna- I'm cumming!"

Anakin groaned in approval, the sound vibrating against your sensitive flesh, pushing you over the edge. Your orgasm crashed over you like a wave, your pussy clenching around his fingers as he continued to lap at you, prolonging your pleasure.

You thrashed beneath him, your hands fisting in his hair, holding him in place as you rode out the intense waves of ecstasy. Anakin stayed with you every step of the way, his tongue working wonders, coaxing out every last drop of your release.

As the aftershocks subsided, he gentled his touch, his tongue still stroking over your sensitive flesh, soothing you down from your high. He placed a tender kiss on your mound before lifting his head, his face glistening with your juices, his eyes blazing with satisfaction.

"Fuck, you're delicious," he growled, his voice rough with arousal. "I could never get enough of you."

He crawled up your body, his hard length pressing insistently against your thigh as he captured your lips in a heated kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, the flavor mingling with the taste of him, creating a heady combination that made you feel like a shooting star, being burned and then reconstituted by his mouth.

Anakin gently brushed away the damp strands of hair clinging to your forehead, his touch tender and reverent. He gazed down at you, his blue eyes soft with adoration and still smoldering with desire.

"I still want to be inside you," he murmured, his voice low and husky. He pressed a trail of kisses along your neck, his lips adoring your skin. "Do you have the energy to ride me, or would you prefer me on top?"

You shivered at the feel of his warm breath against your sensitive neck, your body still tingling with the aftershocks of your intense orgasm. "I want to feel you deep inside me, but I'm not sure if I could get up off the mattress," you whispered, your voice weak but filled with need. "Please, Anakin."

With a low groan, Anakin settled himself between your thighs, the thick head of his cock nudging against your entrance. He paused for a moment, his eyes searching yours, seeking permission, making sure you were ready for him.

At your nod, he slowly pressed forward, sheathing himself inside you inch by inch. You gasped at the sensation, your walls stretching to accommodate his girth. He was so big, so hard, filling you in a way that made you feel complete.

Anakin stilled once he was fully seated inside you, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes closed in bliss. "Fuck, you feel amazing," he breathed, his voice tight with restraint. "So tight, so perfect."

He began to move, his hips rolling in a slow, deep rhythm. Each thrust sent sparks of pleasure through your body, building the heat simmering in your core once more. You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him deeper, harder.

Anakin complied, his pace increasing, his thrusts growing more powerful. The bed creaked beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall with each powerful drive of his hips. He angled his thrusts, hitting that spot inside you that made you see stars, that had you crying out in ecstasy.

Anakin's thrusts grew more urgent, more powerful, his hips snapping against yours with a force that had the bed frame shaking. He braced himself above you, his muscles flexing with each drive of his cock deep into your heat.

"You feel so fucking good," he groaned, his voice strained with pleasure. "So tight, so perfect. I could stay inside you forever."

You clung to him, your nails digging into the hard planes of his back as he pounded into you, chasing your pleasure. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mixed with your moans and his grunts of endeavor.

Anakin shifted slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts, hitting a spot inside you that made you see the whole galaxy. Your back arched off the bed, a silent scream of ecstasy tearing from your throat. He must have felt it too, because he smiled down at you, his eyes dark with satisfaction.

"That's it, baby," he croaked, his voice a low, sultry rumble. "Cum for me. I want to feel you coming apart on my cock."

He reached between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight circles over the sensitive nub. The added stimulation was too much, pushing you over the edge.

Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your walls clenching around Anakin's thrusting cock, milking him for all he was worth. He groaned, his rhythm faltering as your pleasure triggered his own.

With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself inside you, his cock pulsing as he spilled his seed deep within your heat. He collapsed on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his breath hot against your neck.

"Fuck, that was incredible," he muttered, his voice muffled against your skin. "You're amazing, do you know that?"

You could only nod, too consumed by the afterglow to form coherent words. Anakin rolled to the side, pulling you with him, tucking you against his chest. His hand stroked lazily over your back, his touch soothing and comforting.

Anakin kissed your forehead softly, the lingering warmth of his lips like a silent promise. His strong, calloused hand rubbed gentle circles on your back, grounding you both in the quiet intimacy of the moment. The glow of the lights your boyfriend insisted on placing in every window in the house spread lightly throughout the room, casting a warm, golden hue over the space.

“You,” he murmured, his deep voice still tinged with the rawness of emotion, “are the best Christmas present I could have ever asked for.”

A lazy smile spread across his lips, his eyes heavy-lidded but filled with unmistakable love. He looked utterly content, his body still recovering from the tidal wave of pleasure that had swept over him. He leaned back slightly, letting his head rest against the pillows as he gazed at you.

You felt the strength of his arms encircling you, his larger frame cradling your smaller body like you were something fragile, precious. Your cheek pressed against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you into a sense of peace you hadn’t realized you needed.

“You’re everything,” Anakin continued softly, his hand coming up to gently brush a strand of hair from your face. “Do you know that? You came into my life and turned everything upside down in the best way possible.”

You tilted your head to look up at him, your own smile forming as his words sank in. “I think you’re giving me too much credit,” you teased lightly, your voice muffled by his chest.

He chuckled, the sound low and rich, vibrating through you. “Not even close,” he said, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “You’ve given me something I didn’t think I’d ever have again. Love. Real love. Not just for me but for my kids, for this life we’re building together. You don’t know how much that means to me.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you reached up to trace the sharp lines of his jaw, his soft stubble prickling under your fingertips. “I love you, Ani,” you whispered, the words full of warmth and certainty.

His lips curved into a wider smile, and his stormy blue eyes glistened with emotion. “I love you more,” he replied, his voice steady but soft.

For a while, neither of you moved, content to simply exist in the moment. The sounds of the house were muffled—the distant creak of floorboards, the hum of the heater, the faint tinkling of Christmas music still playing downstairs. It was as if the world outside your little bubble had melted away, leaving only the two of you wrapped in the comfort of each other.

Finally, Anakin shifted slightly, his hand trailing soothing patterns along your back. “You know,” he began, his tone lighter now, “we should probably get some sleep. Santa left a lot of toys under the tree that will need assembling in the morning.”

You laughed softly, the sound muffled by his chest. “You mean I’ll be assembling them while you ‘supervise,’ right?”

He smirked, brushing a kiss over the top of your head. “I think we make a pretty good team. Besides, I’m sure Luke will take over as lead engineer within five minutes.”

“Leia will be too busy experimenting on whatever she can find,” you added with a laugh.

Anakin’s smile widened, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he imagined the chaos that awaited them tomorrow. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he said, his voice filled with warmth and pride.

You shifted slightly to look up at him again, your own smile soft and filled with affection. “Merry Christmas, Ani,” you whispered, your fingers lacing with his.

He tilted his head to press a lingering kiss to your lips, the gesture tender but full of meaning. “Merry Christmas, baby,” he murmured against your lips.

As the two of you settled back into the quiet comfort of each other, the warmth of the holiday filled the room, a gentle reminder of everything you’d built together. Anakin’s life, once marked by loss and brokenness, now felt whole again—with you at the very center.

[muzansfangs]

hi!! i really loved your NSFW alphabet for aizen… is there anyway i could request one for ukitake? thank you so much for all the work you create, everything you write is such a treat!

Nsfw alphabet – Ukitake Jushiro (letters b, c, j, k).

Starring: Jushiro Ukitake x f!reader;

Format: headcanons;

Warnings: nsfw, nipple play, sub!reader, switch!jushiro, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, creampie, breeding kink, masturbation;

Plot: some nsfw head canons about Jushiro Ukitake, based on some letters of the alphabet;

Author note: Hello there! As I have already had the occasion to tell you in another 'alphabet request’, I am not a huge fan of this format. In the future, I may decide to write the missing letters, but as for now enjoy the ones I have picked! I am sorry if this is not your cup of tea, but alphabets sometimes get repetitive and it is not exactly a turn on for me to write. Having said that, enjoy your unexpected Christmas present!

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Jushiro loves and lavishes every single part of your body. He is, without dispute, the kind of man who puts his partner first and kisses the ground she walks on. Nothing in the world matters more than you. But he is a man too and, as such, he is subjected to carnal urges and forbidden reveries. Surely, Jushiro is reserved and would rather not indulge in such deplorable debates, but if you asked him such a question he would not back down.

His favorite body part of you are your breasts. Jushiro loves to kiss them gently, lips tracing their outline, especially during foreplays to make your nipples harden. This man simply admits he could spend hours molding them, suckling on the buds reverently, watching with lovesick eyes the way they sway and jiggle when he thrusts into you, or you ride him. He is definitely a boobs man.

The first answer is directly connected to the second part of the question. About himself, he loves his lap. Sometimes, fatigue and his chronic illness do not allow him to overexert himself and this is when he lets you straddle his lap to ride him. The pace is slow, but your caresses are passionate. Jushiro just adores the way you bounce on his cock and the view of your breasts he has truly makes it hard for him to last for too long.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically).

Jushiro does not particularly like the idea of spilling his cum in any place that is not your womb. He comes from a chaotic, large family and his ultimate wish is to build one of his own. Can you really blame him for wanting to finish inside you, when you call out his name so sweetly, tenderly, and your body practically seems to coax him to come inside of you?

Keep in mind, though, that Jushiro does not take anything for granted. From the day you first gave him your permission to fill you up, he knew it was a privilege you were reserving only to him. Of course, he also knew you were not going to revoke it. Still, even today, he always makes sure you give him your full consent before he proceedes in coming into you. He is the incarnation of a gentleman.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Jushiro rarely indulges into masturbation. When he does, though, it means you are not around. Sometimes, you need to leave the Soul Society for a few days for special missions and he is really not the type to oppose to the idea of you being independent. He can take care of himself.

All he asks for, when you visit him to announce your departure, is for you to take a few pictures of yourself and send it to him. He loves watching you wearing human clothes. Pastel colors are his favorite. They compliment your skin.

It is absolutely needless to say he pumps his shaft in front of the pictures you send him. Your blushing boyfriend comes in a matter of minutes, especially since you often tease him by wearing provocative lingerie instead of cute sundresses.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

The Captain of the Thirteenth Division has basic kinks, well suited to a man of his age and position. Jushiro has a thing for breeding and praising.

His desire to impregnate you, to build a family is evident in bed but also in the way he casually hugs you from behind, hands resting over your belly, almost protectively, as he murmurs how beautiful you would look with a baby bump.

Praises, praises falling from your lips are such a turn on for him. If he is eating you out on his futon and you tell him he is bringing you to Cloud Nine, he might begin to grind his crotch over the mattress, whimpering in pride for making you feel so good.

Do not think he is not going to compliment you, to praise you. Jushiro is kind of talkative in bed. Expect to end up showered in praises, to hear sweet nothing, to be cradled in his arms as he comes into you.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hello there! Merry Christmas to those who celebrate! I did not mention that I was going to post this request too, because I wanted to post it as a ‘gift’. Sincerely, I hope you are going to enjoy this small work! Much love, warm hugs and your favorite hot drink to sip in front of a fireplace!

– Luce

[themuseofaphrodite]

santa doesn’t know you like i do ✧ MV33

summary: it’s christmas eve, and your boyfriend, max verstappen — a notoriously bad gift giver — still has not told you what presents he had bought you. unbeknownst to you, however, he has found the wishlist you jokingly wrote to santa, and is planning a heartwarming surprise for his beloved.

trigger warnings: suggestive & mature content, swearing

word count: 1.1k

note: phrases and sentences in the dutch language are utilized throughout; keep a translator accessible

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Dear Santa, the letter began, I know that I’m almost twenty-three years old, so writing a letter to you is kind of foolish, but I still believe in the magic of Christmas, even if you aren’t real. This Christmas, I’m not really expecting much. My boyfriend, Max Verstappen, buys me anything I ask for, no matter what time of the year it is. He’s the best partner I could ask for. But the reason why I’m writing this letter is because he is clueless when he has to pick out gifts on his own, without my assistance.

So, before I go off on a tangent talking about how bad his solo gifts have been — do I have to mention the knitted red socks or lavender flavored gumballs? —, these are the things that I’m most looking forward to hopefully seeing under the Christmas tree.

A new set of lipsticks, because mine is really old and running out. I didn’t want to ask Max to buy me one, because I feel bad making him pay for anything.

The new rose gold spade necklace from Chanel. I saw it in a display case at the store in Monaco, and I was itching to purchase it. It’s really beautiful.

And last, but not least, a carton of Ferrero Rocher chocolates, the ones in the golden wrap and the crunchy nuts. My mouth is salivating just from thinking about it.

I know that there’s probably no point to writing this letter since you’re not exactly a living, breathing person, but a part of me hopes that your magic might help figure some of the kinks in Max’s terrible gift-giving skills out.

After writing the letter, you ended up throwing it away in the trash. It was such a waste of time, you thought. What in the world possessed you to do this? You were a busy woman, working for Red Bull as a PR manager. There was never a quiet moment. That was how you and Max had met: you were assigned to aid Liam Lawson in figuring out any media scandals, but as soon as Max had laid eyes on you, he’d immediately ordered Christian Horner to switch you to helping him out.

You were unsure of him, how aggressive and competitive he was. He wouldn’t shy away from direct confrontation, and that terrified you, since the idea of verbally arguing with someone made you nauseous. But so far, eight months into the relationship, you and Max had not had a single fight. He was loving, patient, and kind, willing to hear your side of the story every single time, even if he looked like he was about to flip a table. (This usually happened in PR meetings: you never argued outside of work.)

This would be your first Christmas together, and you were nervous. You knew what to get him: a new Red Bull team shirt and a pair of matching scarves that had colorful cats printed on it. It was purr-fect, and you knew that Max would — hopefully — love it.

Max entered the room, his steps hurried as he typed away on his phone and let out a big huff in frustration. You leaned against the wall, watching him as you sipped your chocolate-flavored boba tea. “Hey, is everything all good, mijn leeuw?” you asked, tacking on the Dutch pet name that fit your boyfriend perfectly. He was a lion, loud and courageous…especially in bed. Your cheeks heated at the thought.

Max looked up from his phone, his mouth a little open in confusion. “No, I’m OK, liefde. Just…fucking delivery people, not being on time.” Your eyebrow quirked, and Max shook his head. “And no, for the seventh time, I will not tell you what I’m getting you for Christmas. I know your birthday might’ve been bad, but I promise this time I’ll be good. Ik hou van je, schat.”

“Ik houd ook van jou,” you responded. “But I think I have every right to be concerned.”

Max rolled his eyes, walking over to where you were and placing one arm above your head, effectively locking you in place. “It will be fine. Don’t worry your pretty head about it, hm?” He grinned, kissing you on the forehead. “And if it does end up wrong, I’ll fuck you really well to make up for it.”

You blushed, averting your gaze away from him. “Max.”

“It’s true.” He released his hand from the wall, moving a dozen inches apart from your face. “Geloof me, lieverd.”

You bit your tongue and didn’t respond.

The next evening, also known as Christmas night, you and Max were preparing to open your presents. Your stomach was like a swarm of butterflies, you were so nervous to see what was in store for you under the tree. Max, however, was the epitome of ice-cold, his face betraying no hint as to what he may have purchased.

“Your turn first, engel.” Max motioned for you to select your first gift, and with shaky hands, you began to unpeel the small, square-shaped package. Finally unveiling it, you realized what it was: the rose gold spade Chanel necklace you’d been wanting for so long.

“Max! Oh my God, jij bent de beste!” you cried out, hugging him tightly and making him crack up in laughter. “How did you know?” you asked as you pulled away, but Max shrugged his shoulders.

“I just know things, liefde.” It was now Max’s turn to select his first gift, and he chose the nondescript package that held the colorful cat scarves in them. You suppressed a smile, watching as he carefully cut through the gift wrapping and sifted through the gift paper. His face broke out in a large smile, his blue eyes gleaming with happiness. “Cat scarves? This is adorable!”

“I hoped you would like it,” you said, beaming back at him. You shifted your position to pick up another gift; this time, it was heavy and rectangular. An inkling of suspicion wormed its way through you as you met Max’s gaze. “If this is what I think this is… Thank you.”

It was, in fact, a new set of lipsticks, just like you had written in your letter to Santa Claus. Somehow, Max must have found the letter and bought everything that you’d put on the list.

“You deserve it,” Max responded, pulling you close to him after you both had finished unwrapping the presents. “You’re the love of my life, Y/N. I owe you the world.”

You kissed his temple. “You’re the most incredible partner I could ever have.”

“Merry Christmas, hart van mij.”

Needless to say, you paid Max back for the thoughtful presents all night long. It was a Christmas you’d never forget, and you sent up a silent thanks to the magic of Santa Claus for having it all work out.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

[thequeenofcurses]

A Love Beyond Death

Reader x Gojo. Reader visits her husband!Gojo’s grave one year after his death and something magical spicy happens. mdni. word count: 3k. beware manga spoilers

December 24th, today

One year. It’s been a whole 365 days since the world was destroyed. Your world. Forever ruining the Christmas season. 

The early morning snow lightly covered the cemetery. The Gojo clan had reorganized a lot since Yuta Okkostu took over as clan leader. Knowing how much you meant to him, Yuta always allowed you to visit Satoru’s grave privately whenever you needed to.

You told that idiot to let you help him fight Sukuna. Every day since, you regret not being there. Maybe your technique could’ve helped him survive. Maybe you could’ve distracted Sukuna and given Satoru an opening. Maybe you could’ve sacrificed yourself for him. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe…

December 24th, 2018

“Babe, I know you’re a great sorcerer, but we both know I can’t go all out if you’re there” you remembered your husband’s voice to you as he was getting dressed. “I can’t risk you getting hurt. I need you to stay here. Stay safe.”

You pouted sadly, but nodded your understanding. “You better come back to me,” you demanded. “Satoru, I swear to God if you die…”

“Shh, shh, shh,” the tall white haired man pulled you into his chest and placed his head atop yours whilst rubbing your back. “Don’t worry about me, ‘kay? I’ll win. I always do.”

Even though you believed him, your eyes continued to flow with salty tears full of worry. “Satoru,” you whisper with a shaky breath. “I love you.”

He stands back a few inches, taking off his blindfold to look you directly in the eyes. “"Hey, don’t cry too much, alright? I don’t want people thinking I left you all heartbroken over me.” He gently cups your face and wipes your tears with his thumbs. “I love you.”

The kiss he gives is everything you need. He lifts your chin then connects his soft lips with your waiting ones. It was gentle, yet passionate, but it left you needing more. 

“Satoru, please.” You look up at him, your heart nervously beating through your chest. He could die today. The terrible thoughts flooded your mind. If this is our last time together, I want to show him how much I love him. “I need you. Please.”

Gojo hesitated for a moment, then smiled. “I know, baby.” He kisses you again then picks you up by your waist. You wrap your legs around him and he carries you to your shared bed, never breaking your kiss. He gently lays you down before crawling above you. “Show me.”

Even after a year of (secret) marriage, Gojo still makes you blush. You push the nervous butterflies in your stomach down and bite your lip. You kiss Gojo again quickly. “I love you.” He lets you flip him over to where you’re straddling his lap. Blindfold still off, his cerulean eyes watch you through snowy white lashes. “So much.” Your hands travel underneath the shirt he just put on, rubbing his taut chest. You quickly pull his shirt above his head, giving him another kiss thereafter. 

Gojo continues to watch you as your hands make their way down from his neck, down, down, down, to his waist. You tug at his pants with need, sliding them and his boxers off in one pull. “Now I’m all naked,” Gojo smirked at you. You giggle at his silly comment before kissing him once more. You use one hand to pull your shirt above your head while your other grips his length, precum already leaking out of it. “Mhhmp,” he groans. You worship his length. Kissing his cock up and down as he continues to get hard for you. You lean down into his lap to take him into your mouth, no hands, as you continue worshiping your husband’s perfect cock. 

With both hands free now, you pull down your shorts, and finally feel your own wetness. Straddling him again, Gojo slides his hands up your thighs. His left one stops at your pussy, while he holds you with his right. He gently rubs your clit with two fingers. “My girl is so wet for me,” he mused.

“Ahwh, ‘Toru” you moan. You gently rub his cockhead against your slick folds. “Need you, inside”.  

Gojo smirks and sits up a bit. “Show me how much you need me baby,” he breathes. 

Instead of responding with words you grip his length and line it up with your entrance. You ever so slowly sink down onto his cock. Slowly inch by inch, until your pussy is tickled by his pelvic hair. You both deeply gasp at the feeling. “‘M so full ‘Toru.” You throw your arms around his neck and start to move. A bit slow at first until you find a good rhythm. Quickly bouncing up and down. Up and down. 

“Ff-fuck princess,” Gojo groaned. “Riding me so good.” He kisses your neck, then trails down to your breasts. Left then right. Giving each one their deserved attention. He puts one of your hardened nipples into his mouth while his hands land back onto your waist, steadying you. You ride him fast, and hard, focused solely on his orgasm. “You’re so beautiful,” he says while giving your nipple a lighthearted bite. 

You throw your head back in pleasure, slowing down your vertical attack on his cock. “Satoruuu,” your moans echo throughout the room.  

“Legs getting tired baby?” Gojo jokes, noticing your pace slow down. The second you nod he effortlessly flips you onto your back and gets between your legs. “Let me take over doll.” He aligns himself at your entrance once again, then thrusts hard, filling you to the brim. The slap, slap, slapping of his balls bullying your clit as he gives you fast, hard thrusts mixed with both of your moans become a cacophony of sound. “I can’t get enough of you,” he admits. 

Each long thrust of his brings you both ever so closer to orgasm. “Gonna cum, ‘Toru” you admit. “C-can’t hold it.”

“Yeah, sweets?” Gojo turns your head up so you're forced to look directly into his eyes then places that hand on your throat while his other hand goes back to rubbing your clit. “Come on then, wife.” He thrusts hard with each word. “Cum. For. Me.”

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck, Satoru,” you gasped through a short breath. His ministrations paid off. Your legs start to inevitably shake as his thrusts bring you closer and closer. He leans forward, kissing you and looking directly into your eyes once more as you cum on his cock.

“I’m right here baby,” he says. His hair was disheveled, forehead was slick with sweat, as was the rest of his body; yet he still never looked more beautiful. “Princess, I’m cumming,” he slows down his murder of your pussy, but doesn’t pull out completely; filling your cunt to the brim with his seed.

He releases his hold on your neck and gives you a deep loving kiss. As you both come down from your high. “You okay, doll?” He begrudgingly pulls out you.

“Yes, ‘Toru. I’m okay.” you reassure him. You look up and see the light from the window molding into a series of oranges and pink, signaling sunrise. Your heart feels heavy and the worry fills your being once again. “I’m just worried–”

“Shh,” Gojo shushes you once again with his finger to your lips. “No worrying about me. C’mere.” He pulls you into a loving warm cuddle. He rubs the back of your head while he explains. “Not to toot my own horn but, I am the strongest. Besides, I have to come back to give you your Christmas gift.”

You believe him. So you both shower together, being intimate one more time. After showering, you help him get ready and he takes off his wedding ring and places it in your hands. “I need you too, y/n,” he kneels down. “And once all of this is over, we’ll have a proper wedding. No more of this secret shit. I wanna show you off to the world. Keep that safe for me, yeah?.” You can’t help, but smile.You pull him into one last hug.

Ring. Ring. Ring. You glance at Gojo’s phone on the bed and see the name. Iori Utahime . 

It’s time.

December 24th, today

“Liar,” you cried out. “You fucking promised.” Your hand was full of blue iris’. His favorite flower. They reminded you of his eyes. Oh God, those eyes. It was stressful for him to have them uncovered, so you didn’t see them too often. But when you did have those special romantic moments with your husband or sometimes during training, he would remove his glasses or blindfold. He mostly did it with you only, because he knew you loved looking into his eyes (plus he knew eye contact would always make you blush). “You damned liar.”

You kneeedl down to the headstone, wiping away the dusty snow that just started to appear, gently placing the flowers down.

Satoru Gojo

December 07, 1989 – December 24th, 2018

Beloved Son And Teacher

They couldn’t even put “loving husband” on his gravestone. With your marriage being secret, only a handful of people knew about your relationship. 

You had zero control of your tears. They flowed freely, running down your reddened cheeks. Fuck. The winter chill was making your nose run and your body shake, yet you remained in front of the grave. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” you cried. “I wish I was there, I wish I could've saved you. I wish–” your shaky breath breaks. The wind lightly picks up, wisping your hair around your face. You sat there, telling Gojo about your year and everything that has happened since your last visit. You told him that you were proud of Yuta for taking over the clan. You informed him how you adopted a puppy because you were too lonely without him. You explained that you had hoped and prayed after his death that maybe his seed had land that you would still have a part of him, but alas, every pregnancy test you took back then was negative.

You even explained how much you hate Christmas and winter now because all of it reminds you of him.

You talked his ear off. Or the grave’s ear rather, if it had any. You promised Yuta you wouldn’t be here for too long since he mentioned wanting to come visit Satoru with Yuji and some of the other students. 

“I love you, ‘Toru.”

Standing up, you wiped the snow off your bottom and turned.

“I love you too.”

You turned your head back and forth, searching for the owner of the voice. It must be your head. I must be getting delusional. God, I miss him.

“y/n”

You whip around and do a 360° turn. “Who’s there?” The graveyard was eerily quiet and there were no signs of anyone else nearby. Yuta promised you’d have private time, so where could this voice be coming from.

“Princess,” Gojo whispered. 

Your heart fluttered hearing Gojo’s voice again. It had been so long. Wait, no. Satoru died a year ago. This is impossible… But apparently Suguru Geto had come back from death, maybe it was possible Satoru could too? No, no, no. That was someone’s technique. This is impossible.

“Sweets, I miss you.” Another whisper. Oh God. The only person on the planet who called you that was your husband. 

“Satoru?” you questioned quietly, still turning your head back and forth. Tears started to well up in your eyes again. “Fuck, I miss you so much.”

“It’s really me baby,” you felt a wispy feeling on your face, as if a hand was there; yet you couldn’t see him. “Please don’t cry for me, doll.” Your face leaned into the wisps’ palm. As if reading your mind, the wisp gently brushed the tears off your cheek. “I don’t know how this is possible, but I heard you… talking to me. And now I’m here. I don’t think we have much time though.”

Your heart sank down to your chest. Of course you wouldn’t be lucky enough to have him truly come back. Gojo sacrificed everything, everything, for the world, yet when he wants something that’ll make him happy, he can’t have it. Life truly is unfair. 

Not knowing how much time you had, you try to tell him the entirety of what you may have left out earlier when you were talking to his grave. The words come out like vomit, quickly, making sure he knows exactly how you feel and how much you need him.

As if God was finally giving Satoru something he wanted, the wisps near you form a very light blue cloudy silhouette of what seemed to be Gojo. Almost as if you were seeing his infinity. You still couldn’t see him fully, but at least you had some idea of where he was.

“Baby, I love hearing about all your little adventures.” The wispy silhouette pulled you into a hug. Somehow it’s filled with warmth. “God knows I’ve missed coming home to you.” You leaned into his chest and that’s when you felt it. 

You looked down, still not seeing any physical form of Gojo but his lower outline started to bulge out. “‘Toru is that…”

“Heh, sorry sweets,” he apologized. “I just haven’t touched you in so long.”

“Would it even be possible…?”

“We could try,” you could hear the smirk in his voice.

It stopped snowing, yet it was still very frigid. Gojo kissed you, slowly guiding you to his headstone. You unzip your coat and lay it on the ground, but keep your sweater on. “I want this, but I don’t want to freeze.”

“I promise, you won’t freeze.”

You nod, believing him somehow, even though he broke his last promise to you. Your sweater flies off of you just as quickly as he pulled your boots and pants off. The first kiss he gave you was filled with so much warmth and love and need.

“Last time, before I, y'know, died. We fucked and it was amazing, perfect even, but this time, I want to make love to you.” If you could see those blue eyes right now it would make you burst into tears again. “I love you so much, y/n. I’m sorry, I broke my promise.”

“It’s okay,” you reassured him with a kiss.”I love you too”.

For the next hour he made slow, sensual love to you, in every romantic position possible. Gojo made sure to take care of you. You felt him and his throbbing length while you rode him and he littered your body with warm kisses. He might’ve even left a hickey or two on your neck. 

Your first orgasm was when he had you in missionary while you pleaded for him to fuck you harder, faster. Of course he declined, wanting to keep this as a love making session until you were absolutely begging for it.

You came again when he had you laying in front of him, cuddling, and he had his arms wrapped around you. Never stopping his relentless pounding into your pussy. A perk to being dead is never running out of stamina.

And you came again, for the third time when he had fucked you hard into a mating press. Your legs above your head. You came again and again, while Gojo declared how much he loved you over and over.

“Princess?”

“Mhmm,” you babbled out.

“M’im gonna cum,” he gasped out. “Gonna fill you right up.” You don’t see it, but you feel him stuffing your cunt full of his cock and his cum. He pulled out of you, rubbing his cock up and down your pretty pussy. He caught some of the cum that leaked out of you with his cockhead and stuffed it back inside of you. “My beautiful girl.”

He cuddled with you for another moment, keeping you warm while you both watched the snowy clouds up above. “Baby, I think, it’s time for me to go.” Your heart fluttered. This was the moment you both knew was coming. You looked where you knew his eyes would be at. "I love you. Always. Take care of yourself, okay?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever move on from you,” you admit. “I just want to be with you”

“Baby…” Gojo’s voice is soft, barely a whisper. “Please, try. Live for me.” He ends his reasoning with a kiss. You shiver, his touch starting to become less and less warm. Whatever technique or spell that was keeping him here must be starting to wear off. He grabs your clothes and pulls you up, helping you get dressed. “After all, I know I’m the best,” he joked. “But you have to move on. Please? For me. I hate seeing you so lonely.” He pulled you into a final hug, his body becoming more cold and less tangible. 

You nod into his chest.

And then you feel nothing.

A six sided snowflake landed on your nose before melting instantly. A reminder for you to get back inside. 

Maybe the Christmas season won’t be so bad anymore.

EPILOGUE

Six Weeks Later

“It’s positive,” Shoko read the results. “You’re definitely pregnant.”

Your mouth was still agape. “But, but, that’s impossible.”

“Well the test isn't lying, y/n” Shoko said with a laugh. “Are you sure you didn’t get drunk around Christmas and have a one night stand?”

You thought back to six weeks ago. You tried to move on from Satoru, but none of the men you went on dates with truly interested you. And you definitely didn’t sleep with them. You remember visiting Gojo’s grave on his death anniversary and having a very vivid dream with him. But it was only a dream…

“Shoko…” you started. “Would you believe me if I told you I think this baby might be Satoru’s?”

A/N: My bad if this was too long. And sorry if this is cringe; this is literally the first time I’ve written a story with a smutty-type scene in years. In fact, it’s only the second one I’ve ever written, so I’m sorry if it’s awkward. 😭

Banner: @cafekitsune

[emjayewrites]

the best gift • jules koundé one shot

SYNOPSIS: Jules and Maya celebrate Christmas together…Sequel to Turkey Day

PAIRINGS: Jules Koundé x Maya Richardson (fc: Ebonee Davis)

TAGLIST: @hopefulromantic1 @lettersofgold @sinflowersugar @alika-4466 @peyiswriting @leilaxaliel @serpenttines-library @certifiedlesbianbaddie @niahxo @jack0357 @chaoticcoffeequeen @greedyjudge2 @yeea-nah @saturnville @cranberryjulce

Jules watched from his kitchen as his mother, Sophie, fussed over the already immaculate house for the third time that morning. Her nervous energy was palpable as she adjusted throw pillows and muttered in rapid French about wanting everything to be perfect for Maya's parents' first visit to Barcelona.

"Maman," Jules called out gently, "tout a l'air magnifique. Veuillez vous asseoir avant de porter un chemin dans mon sol” ("Mom, everything looks beautiful. Please sit down before you wear a path in my floor.")

Sophie turned to him, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "Je veux juste qu’ils se sentent les bienvenus, mon chéri. Et mon anglais... ce n’est pas aussi bon que le français de Maya." ("I just want them to feel welcome, mon chéri. And my English... it's not so good like Maya's French.")

Jules smiled, remembering Maya's first meeting with his mother six months ago. Despite the language barrier, Maya had charmed Sophie with her attempts at French and her genuine interest in family photos of a young Jules. This time would be different though – Maya's parents would be joining them.

"Le Dr et M. Richardson vous aimeront, Maman. Tout comme Maya." ("Dr. and Mr. Richardson will love you, Maman. Just like Maya does.")

His phone buzzed with a text from Maya: "Just picked up my parents from the airport. Dad's already commenting on all the soccer stuff everywhere 😂 Be there in 30!"

Jules checked his watch. The timing would be tight – they had his match against Leganes that evening, and he'd need to leave for Camp Nou in a few hours.

The door opened exactly twenty-eight minutes later. Jules turned to find Maya beaming at him, her parents behind her looking jet-lagged but excited. Dr. Angela Richardson immediately moved to hug him while Miles Richardson extended his hand for a firm handshake that felt warmer than their first meeting at Thanksgiving.

"Welcome to Barcelona," Jules said, ushering them inside where his mother waited.

"Bonjour!" Sophie stepped forward, her smile bright if slightly nervous. "Welcome, welcome! Please, come in!"

Maya hugged Sophie warmly, switching to French. "Sophie, c'est si bon de vous revoir!"

Sophie's face lit up at the familiar language, and she launched into rapid French that had Maya nodding along, occasionally asking for clarification.

"Your home is beautiful," Angela said, looking around the modern space with its floor-to-ceiling windows displaying Barcelona’s skyline. "And what a view!"

"Merci," Sophie replied, then looked at Jules for help.

"Maman helped me decorate," Jules explained. "She has much better taste than I do."

Miles was examining the wall of Jules' framed jerseys – his first Bordeaux shirt, his Sevilla kit, and several Barcelona and French national team jerseys. "Quite a collection you've got here, son."

"Those are just the special ones," Maya said proudly. "You should see the storage room."

Jules led them on a tour of the house, ending in the kitchen where Sophie had prepared a light lunch of quiche, salad, and fresh bread. She'd been cooking since dawn, determined to make a good impression.

"This is delicious, Sophie," Angela said after her first bite of quiche.

Sophie looked to Jules for translation, beaming when he conveyed the compliment. "Merci beaucoup! C'est une recette de ma grand-mère."

The conversation flowed surprisingly well despite the language barrier, with Maya and Jules acting as translators when needed. Miles, to everyone's surprise, revealed he'd been using a language learning app to pick up basic French.

"Merci pour le repas," he said carefully, making Sophie clap in delight.

All too soon, Jules had to leave for the stadium. "I've arranged for a car to take you to Camp Nou," he told Maya's parents. "Maya knows where the family box is, and Maman will be with you."

"Good luck, baby," Maya said, kissing him quickly. "Show Daddy what real football looks like."

"That's right," Miles added with a grin. "Show me what all this fuss is about."

Three hours later, Jules stood in the tunnel at Camp Nou, waiting to walk out onto the pitch. He knew Maya and their parents were up in the family box – Maya had sent a photo of them all together, his mother and Maya's parents wearing Barcelona scarves, Miles looking slightly bemused but game.

The match itself was electric. Jules had always played well with Maya in attendance, but having both their families watch seemed to elevate his game even further. In the thirty-seventh minute, he made a crucial sliding tackle that started a counterattack, leading to Barcelona's first goal. The roar of the crowd was deafening, but he could have sworn he heard Maya's distinctive voice among the 90,000 fans.

Barcelona won 2-0, with Jules putting in a man-of-the-match performance. After the game, he found their families waiting in the designated area for players' guests. Miles' expression had changed from polite interest to genuine excitement.

"Now that," he said, pulling Jules into a surprise hug, "was something else, son! That tackle in the first half? Reminded me of my playing days, except you got right back up and started the attack!"

Maya was practically bouncing with pride, while their mothers chatted animatedly despite the language difference, Sophie's hands flying as she tried to explain something about the game's tactics.

"See?" Maya whispered to Jules. "Daddy's coming around to soccer."

"Football," Jules corrected with a grin.

The next few days passed in a blur of sightseeing and family meals. Jules showed them his Barcelona, not just the tourist spots but the hidden gems he'd discovered since moving to the city. Sophie took Angela shopping in the boutiques along Passeig de Gràcia, while Miles surprised everyone by developing a deep appreciation for Spanish wine.

On their last evening in Barcelona, before flying to Atlanta for Christmas, they had dinner at a small Catalan restaurant Jules loved. Watching their parents interact, seeing Maya laugh at something his mother said in broken English, Jules felt a certainty settle over him. The small velvet box that had been hiding in his home since before Thanksgiving seemed to burn in his mind.

The flight to Atlanta was long but comfortable, with Jules arranging for first-class tickets for everyone. His mother dozed most of the way, while Maya worked on her dissertation, occasionally asking Jules to help her with some Spanish terms.

Christmas in Atlanta was everything Sophie had hoped for and more. The Richardsons' home was decorated magnificently, with a enormous tree in the family room and lights everywhere. Jules' mother was immediately absorbed into the controlled chaos of the Richardson women's holiday preparations, her limited English forgotten as she and Angela communicated through the universal language of cooking.

On Christmas Eve, after returning from the candlelight service at the Richardsons' church, Jules asked Miles if they could speak privately. Maya was helping her mother in the kitchen, and Sophie was engaged in what appeared to be a spirited game of charades with Maya's brothers and their wives.

Miles led Jules to his study, a warm room lined with books and family photos. He sat behind his desk, a knowing look in his eyes.

"Sir," Jules began, then paused to gather his thoughts. "Mr. Richardson..."

"Miles," Maya's father corrected gently. "I think we're past 'Mr. Richardson' now, don't you?"

Jules smiled, some of his nervousness easing. "Miles. I wanted to speak with you about Maya."

"I had a feeling this conversation was coming," Miles leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. "Ever since Thanksgiving, actually."

Jules straightened in his seat. "I love your daughter, sir – Miles. She's the most remarkable person I've ever known. She challenges me, supports me, makes me laugh... makes me better. And I want to spend the rest of my life with her."

"And the distance? Your career? Her career? Have you thought about all that?"

"Every day," Jules replied honestly. "We've talked about it extensively. Maya's dissertation defense is in three months, and she's already been offered a position at the Universitat de Barcelona. It's not just me asking her to fit into my world – we're building our world together."

Miles was quiet for a long moment, studying the young man before him. Finally, he smiled. "You know, when Maya first told us she was dating a professional soccer player – football player," he corrected himself with a chuckle, "I was worried. Worried about the lifestyle, the distance, the culture differences. But watching you with her, with our family, with your mother... you're a good man, Jules. You see Maya for who she is, and you love her for it."

He stood up and walked around the desk, placing a hand on Jules' shoulder. "You have my blessing, son. Though something tells me Maya would say yes regardless."

Jules laughed, relief flooding through him. "She would. But having your blessing means everything."

"Have you thought about how you're going to ask?"

"I have some ideas," Jules admitted. "But I'd appreciate your input..."

They talked for another hour, Miles sharing stories about his own proposal to Angela, offering suggestions, and finally showing Jules an old family photo album. When they emerged from the study, Maya raised an eyebrow at them suspiciously, but Jules just kissed her temple and joined in the charades game, his heart lighter than it had been in weeks.

Christmas morning dawned bright and slightly cold. Sophie was overwhelmed by the American Christmas traditions – the mountains of presents, the matching pajamas Angela had gotten for everyone (even managing to find some in Jules' size), the seemingly endless supply of food.

"C'est magnifique," she kept saying, her eyes wide as she took in the scene.

Jules watched Maya help his mother understand the rules of the gift exchange, translating when needed, treating Sophie with the same easy affection she showed her own mother. The ring box was still hidden back at home, waiting for the perfect moment he and Miles had discussed the night before. But watching Maya now, radiant in her Christmas pajamas, teaching his mother how to say "Merry Christmas, y'all" in her best Southern accent, Jules knew he'd made the right decision.

That afternoon, while Sophie was helping Angela in the kitchen, several of Maya's cousins who hadn't met Jules' mother yet arrived. DeAndre was the first to notice Sophie as she emerged from the kitchen, wiping flour off her hands on a festive apron and chatting animatedly in French with Maya.

"Wait, hold up," DeAndre said, looking between Jules and his mother. "You're mixed?"

Before Jules could respond, MJ's hand connected with the back of DeAndre's head with a soft thwack. "Man, where are your manners?"

"I was just asking!" DeAndre protested, rubbing his head.

Jules laughed, used to the question by now. "Yes, my mother is French – white French," he clarified with an amused smile. "My father is from Benin."

"That's why he got that good hair," Trey joked, earning himself a slap from Michael this time.

"Y'all are embarrassing," Michael sighed, but there was fondness in his exasperation.

Sophie, who had been watching the exchange with curious eyes, leaned toward Maya. "Qu'est-ce qu'ils disent?"

Maya translated the conversation, making Sophie laugh. "Ah, oui! Jules' father... très beau homme," she said in her limited English, making everyone chuckle.

"See? Ms. Sophie gets it," DeAndre grinned, seemingly recovered from his earlier scolding. "Beautiful people make beautiful people."

Later that evening, as both families gathered in the family room for games and dessert, Jules caught Miles' eye. Maya's father gave him a subtle nod and raised his glass in a quiet toast. Across the room, Maya was teaching Sophie how to play Spades, while Angela and the rest of the family cheered them on.

"Je suis très heureuse," Sophie said to Jules quietly, watching Maya with obvious affection. "Elle est parfaite pour toi."

"Oui, Maman," Jules replied. "Elle l'est."

The rest of the visit passed too quickly, filled with more family meals, impromptu dance parties (Sophie proving surprisingly adept at line dancing), and quiet moments that felt like snapshots of their future together. When it was time for Jules and his mother to return to Barcelona, the goodbyes were emotional.

"You come back soon," Angela said, hugging Sophie tightly. "Family doesn't need language to understand each other."

Sophie, tears in her eyes, hugged her back. "Oui, famille," she then managed in English. "Family."

Miles shook Jules' hand, then pulled him into a hug. "Take care of yourself, son. And remember what we talked about."

"I will," Jules promised, catching Maya's curious look. "Thank you... for everything."

On the plane back to Barcelona, Sophie dozed against Jules' shoulder, exhausted but happy. His phone buzzed with a text from Maya: "Missing you already. But I'll see you in three weeks for my conference in Madrid ❤️"

Jules smiled, already planning how he would transform their Madrid weekend into something unforgettable. But that was a story for another day.

"Étaient-ils ce que vous attendiez?" he asked his mother.

Sophie opened her eyes, smiling. "Ils sont de la famille," she said simply. "Et Maya... elle sera la plus belle mariée."

"Maman!" Jules laughed, but didn't disagree. After all, mothers always knew best.

Three weeks later, Maya was in her hotel room in Madrid, getting ready for what Jules had told her would be "just a nice dinner" to celebrate the successful presentation of her research at the conference. She had no idea that Jules had spent the last month planning every detail of this evening, or that both their families were anxiously waiting for news.

In their year and a half together, she'd grown used to Jules' thoughtful gestures and reverent attention, but something about tonight felt different.

Her phone buzzed with a text from Jules: "Car will pick you up in 15 minutes. Can't wait to see you ❤️"

Maya smoothed down her dress – a deep emerald number that she knew Jules loved – and checked her reflection one last time. Her bohemian braids were styled in an elegant updo with the curly strands purposely hanging out, small golden earrings catching the light when she moved.

The car took her through the twinkling streets of Madrid to a historic building in the city center. When she stepped out, Jules was waiting, looking devastatingly handsome in a perfectly tailored suit.

"You look beautiful, mon cœur," he said softly, kissing her cheek and offering his arm.

The restaurant was intimate and elegant, but instead of heading to the main dining room, Jules led her up a private staircase to a rooftop terrace. Maya gasped as they emerged into what looked like something from a fairy tale. Hundreds of tiny lights were strung overhead, creating a canopy of stars. White roses – her favorite – were everywhere, their sweet scent mixing with the crisp winter air. A single table was set for two, with champagne already chilling.

"Jules," she breathed, taking it all in. "This is..."

"Too much?" he asked, suddenly looking nervous in a way she rarely saw on the football pitch.

"Perfect," she finished, squeezing his hand.

They sat down to a meal that somehow combined French cuisine with touches of Southern comfort food – a detail that made Maya's heart swell with love for this man who always thought of everything. As they finished their main course, Jules grew quieter, more contemplative.

"Do you remember the first time we met?" he asked suddenly.

Maya laughed. "Of course. At that charity event in London. You were so serious until I made that terrible joke about football existing during Shakespeare's time."

"'To kick, or not to kick,'" Jules quoted, grinning at the memory. "It was the worst joke I'd ever heard. But your smile..." He paused, taking her hand across the table. "Your smile made me forget every smooth line I'd practiced in English."

"You'd practiced lines?" Maya teased.

"Mmhmm. None of them as bad as your joke, though." He stood up, still holding her hand. "But that's what I love about you. You make me laugh, you challenge me, you support me... you see me, not just the footballer or the public figure, but me."

Maya's heart began to race as Jules moved to stand beside her chair. "Jules..."

"I talked to your father at Christmas," he continued, and then he was down on one knee, producing a small velvet box from his jacket. "Because while I know you're perfectly capable of making your own decisions, I also know how much family means to you. To us."

Maya's free hand flew to her mouth as Jules opened the box, revealing a stunning ring that somehow managed to be both elegant and unique – just like them.

"Maya Simone Lynette Richardson," Jules said, his French accent wrapping around her name the way it had since the day they met, "you make every day better just by being in it. You've brought so much joy and love into my life, and if you'll let me, I want to spend the rest of my days trying to do the same for you." He took a breath, his eyes never leaving hers. "Will you marry me?"

Through tears of joy, Maya managed to nod. "Yes," she whispered, then louder, "Yes, yes, absolutely yes!"

Jules' hands shook slightly as he slipped the ring onto her finger, then pulled her into a kiss that felt like a promise of forever. When they finally parted, the waiters who had been discretely waiting burst into applause, and champagne appeared as if by magic.

"I love you," Maya said, admiring how the ring caught the light. "And I can't wait to see what Sophie and my mama do with wedding planning."

Jules groaned good-naturedly. "They've already started, believe me. Your mother and mine have been texting on WhatsApp for weeks."

Maya laughed, the sound carrying across the Madrid rooftop like music. "Of course they have."

As they celebrated under the canopy of lights, with the Madrid skyline twinkling around them, Jules felt a profound sense of rightness. Their lives might be complex, stretched between continents and cultures, but their love was simple and true. And really, that was all that mattered.

Later that night, after Maya had FaceTimed both their families (who, to no one's surprise, were all gathered at the Richardsons' house waiting for news), she curled into Jules' side and said, "You know what this means, right?"

"Hmm?"

"You're officially officially part of the family now. No backing out of Homecoming next year."

Jules laughed, pulling her closer. "Wouldn't dream of it, future Mrs. Koundé."

"Dr. Maya Richardson-Koundé," she corrected with a smile.

"Even better," he agreed, and kissed her again.

August 2025….

The historic Ebenezer Baptist Church in Atlanta had never seen such a blend of cultures, but on this warm August morning, the sacred space buzzed with an energy that transcended language and tradition.

Jules stood in a side room, adjusting his bow tie for the hundredth time. The past few months had been a whirlwind since he'd posted that simple photo of Maya's hand with the ring, captioned only with a heart emoji. His Instagram had exploded – teammates sending congratulations in multiple languages, fans ranging from supportive to devastated ("It should've been me! 😭"), and even a few celebrities chiming in. Maya had taken it all in stride, her academic's analytical mind finding humor in the social media frenzy.

"Bro, stop fidgeting," Aurélien said, slapping Jules' hands away from his tie. "You look perfect. Though not as perfect as some of these wedding guests I saw walking in..." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Jules shook his head, grinning. Some things never changed. "Behave yourself. These are Maya's family friends."

"I'm just saying, Atlanta's reputation is well-deserved," Aurélien defended, then whistled low as he peeked out the door. "The hats alone..."

Indeed, the church was a sea of elaborate hats and fans, church mothers dressed in their Sunday best having arrived early to claim prime viewing spots. Jules could hear their voices carrying through the walls, a melodic mix of excited chatter and occasional "Well, bless his heart" when someone mentioned how nervous the groom must be.

The media attention had been intense at first. Maya's academic credentials and their cultural backgrounds made them a source of fascination. But they'd managed it carefully, keeping their private life private while sharing just enough to satisfy public interest. Maya had given one interview to El País, conducted entirely in Spanish, that had won over even the most skeptical Barcelona fans.

"It's time," Reverend Richardson, Maya's grandfather, appeared at the door. He would be performing the ceremony, adding another layer of significance to the day.

Jules took his position at the altar, Aurélien beside him as best man, along with his other groomsmen including several teammates and childhood friends. The church was packed, every pew filled with a perfect blend of their two worlds – his football family alongside Maya's extended clan, French relatives mixed with Southern aunties fanning themselves with wedding programs.

The music shifted, and the wedding party began their entrance. Jules watched as Maya's cousins and friends glided down the aisle in deep burgundy dresses, followed by her sister-in-law as matron of honor. Then the music changed again, and everyone rose.

Maya appeared in the doorway, escorted by her father. Jules felt his breath catch in his throat. Her dress was a masterpiece of elegant simplicity – off-shoulder with delicate lace details that traced her collarbones, a fitted bodice that flowed into a full skirt, and a cathedral-length veil that seemed to float behind her like a cloud. But it was her smile, radiant and certain, that brought tears to his eyes.

"You better cry for her!" came a loud whisper from somewhere in the congregation, followed by Maya's grandmother turning around with a stern look that could have frozen hell itself.

Miles walked Maya down the aisle with measured steps, his eyes glistening with barely contained emotion. When they reached the altar, Miles hugged Jules before placing Maya's hand in his, whispering, "Take care of each other."

The ceremony was a beautiful blend of traditions. Reverend Richardson spoke of love's power to bridge any distance, any culture, any difference. They exchanged vows in English and French, Jules' voice steady despite the emotion evident in his eyes. After the rings and the "I do's," a beautifully carved broom was placed before them – a tradition dating back to enslaved ancestors who couldn't legally marry.

"Jump into your future together," Reverend Richardson announced, and amid cheers and applause, Jules and Maya joined hands and leaped over the broom into their new life.

Their first kiss as husband and wife nearly brought the church down, the celebrations reaching a fever pitch as church bells began to ring. As they ran down the aisle, guests blew bubbles that caught the light streaming through the stained glass windows, creating tiny rainbows around them.

Outside, they ducked into a classic white Rolls Royce, Maya's massive bouquet of white roses resting between them as they headed toward their reception venue in downtown Atlanta.

The reception space was transformed into an elegant wonderland. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting warm light over tables decorated with towering centerpieces of white roses and burgundy dahlias. French and American flags stood alongside the Beninese flag near the head table, representing all parts of their heritage.

After their first dance – to both a French love song and Al Green's "Let's Stay Together" – and the traditional parent dances, Jules found himself standing with Aurélien and Hugo, watching as Maya lined up with her sorority sisters. The opening notes of their Delta Sigma Theta call had the crowd cheering as Maya and her fellow Deltas, including her mother, showed off their steps.

"C'est incroyable," Hugo murmured, filming on his phone. "The energy..."

"This is just the preview for Homecoming," Jules said proudly, remembering Maya's stories about her days at Clark Atlanta. He'd already marked his calendar for October, arranging his schedule to make sure he wouldn't miss it.

The Deltas' performance transitioned seamlessly into Maya's brothers and father taking the floor with their Omega Psi Phi fraternity brothers. The energy in the room shifted again as they hopped and stepped in precise formations, their purple and gold colors flashing.

"Your new family is full of surprises," Aurélien laughed, still recording.

Later, as the evening wound down, Jules held Maya close during a slow dance, her head resting on his shoulder. The dress she'd changed into for the reception sparkled under the chandeliers, but not as brightly as her eyes when she looked up at him.

"Happy?" she asked softly.

"Beyond happy," he replied, spinning her gently. "You are the best gift I could ever ask for. The perfect match I wasn't even looking for."

Maya smiled that smile that had first captured his heart in London. "I love you, Jules Koundé."

"Je t'aime, Maya Richardson-Koundé," he whispered, and kissed her as their families and friends cheered around them, their love story now written into the fabric of both their worlds.

Tomorrow they would leave for their honeymoon in Bora Bora, and after that, they would return to their life in Barcelona. But right now, in this moment, they were simply Jules and Maya, two hearts that found each other across oceans and cultures, proving that love truly knows no boundaries.

"Ready for our next adventure?" Maya murmured against his chest.

Jules tightened his arms around her, thinking of all the moments that had led them here – from that first laugh in London to Thanksgiving chaos to Christmas to this perfect day. "With you? Always."

And as he leaned down to kiss his bride one more time, Jules knew that while he might have won championships and accolades on the football pitch, this victory – this love – was by far his greatest achievement.

[benispunk]

Who's That Girl?

Chapter 12: All I Want For Christmas

Y/N spends Christmas with Logan and Wade, and Logan's wondering what he really wants to find underneath the Christmas tree.🎄

logan howlett x reader

TW: language, angst & fluff, D&W.

word count: 5K+

A/N: Merry Christmas everyone!!! before saying anything about this special chapter, I just wanted to thank you all for all the support on this series!! I love you guys so so much!!! and although this chapter made me giggle and kick my feet in the air, then I got a little carried away and...turns out Christmas isn't the happiest time of the year.....so sorry....enjoy? (don't worry, I will NOT let you down)

→ this fic is inspired by the TV Show New Girl, Wade and Logan aren't Deadpool and Wolverine (no powers/mutant gene etc) but I did take most of their character traits and storyline!!

Masterlist /Previous Part

The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the apartment as Y/N shuffled into the kitchen, her steps quiet against the floor. Her pajamas hung loose, her hair a tousled mess from sleep, but she didn’t care— not yet, anyway.

And then, she saw him.

Logan stood by the counter, leaning casually as he sipped from his mug. His hair was still damp from a recent shower, the dark strands curling slightly at the ends. His shirt clung just enough to his frame to hint at the muscles underneath, and for a moment—just a fleeting, traitorous moment—her eyes lingered a little too long.

When he reached for something on the top shelf, the hem of his shirt lifted, revealing a strip of skin and a flash of muscle along his waist. She swallowed hard, shaking her head. What is wrong with me? It was just Logan. Her roommate. Her very grumpy, very private, very…

“Morning,” he greeted, his voice rough but warm, breaking her train of thought.

Y/N blinked, her cheeks heating. “Morning,” she replied, forcing herself to look away as she reached for a mug.

The cup was warm in her hands, grounding her as she poured herself some coffee. She took a sip, savoring the bitter edge of it. This is fine. Everything is fine.

“So,” Logan started, watching her over the rim of his mug. “What’s your plan for Christmas?”

Y/N hesitated, swirling her coffee. “Nothing, really. My dad and brother are in Europe, and flights to California to see my mom… well, not exactly in the cards right now.” She offered a small shrug, though there was a hint of sadness in her voice.

Logan frowned, his grip tightening on the handle of his mug. After a beat, he said, “Wade and I usually celebrate here. Althea, his old roommate, comes over. It’s nothin’ fancy, but it’s good. You should join us.”

Y/N blinked, surprised. “Logan, I don’t want to intrude—”

“You’re not intruding,” Logan interrupted. “You’re family, Y/N. ‘Course you’re welcome.”

Her heart warmed at his words, and a smile spread across her face. “Thank you, Logan. That… means a lot.”

Just then, Wade barreled into the kitchen, already half-dressed for work. “What’s up, my favorite morning people?”

Logan smirked. “Y/N’s joining us for Christmas.”

Wade froze mid-bite of a piece of toast. “Yes!” he exclaimed, his face lighting up. “Y/N, you and Blind Al are gonna hit it off. She’s got this whole ‘beautiful disaster’ vibe going on, but you’ll love her.”

Y/N chuckled, feeling genuinely touched by their enthusiasm. “Thanks, Wade. I’m looking forward to it.”

“You better be!” Wade called as he rushed out the door. “Oh, and save me some cookies or I’ll never forgive you!”

The apartment settled into quiet again. Logan finished his coffee, setting the mug in the sink. “What about you? What are you doing today?”

Y/N tilted her head. “I need to run some errands, maybe pick up a few Christmas gifts. You?”

Logan shrugged. “Not much planned.”

She paused for a second, wondering if her next question was a good idea, then she smiled. Why wouldn’t it be? “Wanna come with me?”

Logan would be a liar if he said his heart didn’t skip a beat. “Yeah, sure. Why not?”

———

Logan had never liked shopping. Too many people, too much noise, and too many choices. It was the kind of thing he avoided at all costs—until today.

He trailed behind Y/N as she navigated the aisles, her attention flitting from one shelf to the next with a focus that he found oddly endearing. She examined items carefully, turning them over in her hands before either placing them back or tossing them into her cart.

Every now and then, she’d turn to him, asking his opinion. Like now.

“What do you think Wade would like?” she asked, holding up a pair of novelty socks with comic book characters on them.

“Probably those,” Logan said with a smirk. “The more ridiculous, the better.”

Her laughter was soft but genuine, and it tugged at something deep in his chest. She smiled easily, even when he barely gave her much to work with. She always had a way of drawing him out, making him feel… less guarded.

“Noted,” she said, tossing the socks into the cart.

As they continued, Y/N brought up another name. “What about Althea? I want to get her something too.”

“You don’t have to get everyone somethin’,” Logan said gruffly.

“I want to,” Y/N insisted. “Christmas is about giving, right?”

Logan shook his head but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips.

“Oh, and don’t think I forgot about you,” Y/N teased, nudging him lightly.

He stopped in his tracks. “Wait—you got me somethin’?”

“Of course,” she said, smiling sweetly.

“You didn’t have to—”

“Logan,” she interrupted. “It’s Christmas.”

Before he could respond, she turned and headed down the next aisle, her focus already shifting to whatever caught her eye. Logan stayed rooted to the spot, watching her go.

For a moment, everything else faded—the noise, the people, the chaos of the store. All he could focus on was her, the way she seemed to light up even the dullest places.

His chest tightened, an unfamiliar warmth spreading through him. He didn’t know what to call it, didn’t want to call it anything, but it was there all the same.

“You’re somethin’ else, Y/N,” he muttered under his breath, the words barely audible over the chatter of the store.

After a moment, he shook his head, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets as he trailed after her.

———

The coffee shop buzzed with a quiet energy, the hum of conversation blending with the clatter of plates and the hiss of the espresso machine. Logan sat across from Y/N, the table between them littered with sandwiches, pastries, and steaming mugs. She was talking, her voice animated as she recounted a story about one of her students.

“...and then he looks me dead in the eye and says, Miss, I’m not late. Time is just a concept.’” Y/N laughed, the sound warm and unguarded, and Logan couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips.

“Smart kid,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Too smart,” she replied with a shake of her head, still smiling.

But then something shifted. The lightness in her expression dimmed, her smile faltering as her gaze fixed on something—or someone—behind him.

Logan’s brow furrowed. He turned slightly in his seat, his eyes landing on a man approaching their table. The guy was average-looking, nothing particularly striking, but there was something about the way he walked—like he knew he belonged in her world, or at least used to.

“Y/N,” the man said, his smile tentative. “Wow, it’s been a while.”

“Hi, Mark,” Y/N replied, her voice polite but strained.

Logan glanced at her, catching the subtle tension in her posture, the way her fingers gripped the edge of her mug just a little too tightly. So, that was Mark.

The man’s gaze flicked to Logan, his smile faltering slightly. “And… you are?”

“Logan,” Y/N said quickly, before Logan could respond. “My roommate.”

Mark’s eyebrows lifted, and his smile thinned. “Oh. Roommate.”

Logan said nothing, his face impassive, but he could feel the weight of Mark’s scrutiny, the unspoken question hanging in the air. Is that all you are?

Mark turned his attention back to Y/N. “So… how’s everything?” he asked, his tone forced, as though he felt obligated to make small talk.

“Good,” Y/N replied, her voice clipped. “Good. You?”

He hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, uh… I’ve been going to therapy,” he said, his words tumbling out awkwardly.

“Oh,” Y/N said, her lips pressing into a tight smile. “That’s… good.”

An awkward silence settled over the table, heavy and suffocating. Logan’s jaw tightened as he watched Y/N’s discomfort. He wanted to say something, to cut through the tension, but he knew this wasn’t his moment to step in.

“Well,” Mark said finally, his smile brittle. “It was good to see you.”

“Yeah,” Y/N replied softly, not quite meeting his eyes.

Mark gave a small wave and walked away, disappearing into the crowd.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Y/N stared down at her coffee, her shoulders slumping slightly.

“You alright?” Logan asked.

She exhaled slowly, lifting her gaze to meet his. “Yeah,” she said, though the tightness in her voice betrayed her. “I just wasn’t expecting to see my ex today. Sorry, that was really weird.”

Logan nodded, his chest tightening inexplicably. “No need to apologize, he was the weird one.”

That made her chuckle and he smiled again. Y/N’s eyes lingered on him, her expression softening. “Have you ever had that happen?”

“Not really,” he admitted, his gaze dropping to his coffee. “Can’t say I’ve had many good relationships to begin with.”

She tilted her head slightly, curiosity flickering across her face. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he said, a small shrug accompanying his words. “I mean, nothing real or long-lasting. Guess I’m not exactly easy to be with.”

“I don’t believe that,” Y/N said, softly. “You just haven’t found the right person yet.”

Logan looked up, his eyes meeting hers. For a moment, the world around them seemed to fade, the noise of the coffee shop a distant hum. There was something in her gaze, something that made his chest ache and his thoughts scatter.

He cleared his throat, breaking the spell. “Maybe,” he said, his voice quieter now.

Y/N smiled faintly, her attention drifting back to her coffee, but Logan could still feel the weight of the moment lingering between them, unspoken and unresolved.

———

By the time they returned to the apartment, the festive glow of the city lights outside had faded into a softer, quieter hum. Inside, the atmosphere felt almost intimate as they each set about putting away the day’s purchases.

Y/N carried the neatly wrapped gifts she’d picked out for Wade and a few others to her room, her mind still replaying snippets of the day. She placed the bags on her bed, pausing for a moment as her fingers brushed over the ribbon on one of the packages.

Meanwhile, Logan busied himself in the kitchen, unpacking a few groceries he had bought for dinner. His movements were slow and deliberate, but his focus wavered as the sound of Y/N’s light footsteps from the other room reached him.

It was the kind of silence that wasn’t quite empty.

When Y/N came back out to the living room, Logan glanced up briefly, his eyes catching hers.

“Got everything sorted?” he asked.

She nodded, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “You?”

“Yeah,” he said, placing a carton of eggs in the fridge. “All set.”

It was an ordinary exchange, but it lingered, hanging in the air between them like the faint scent of pine from the tiny tree Wade had set up in the corner.

Neither of them said much else as they gathered their things to head out, but the quiet wasn’t awkward. It was... charged.

———

The bar was alive with energy, the hum of conversation and bursts of laughter filling the space. Wade was on stage, commanding the room with a confidence that seemed almost effortless.

Y/N and Logan sat together near the bar and when Wade finished his set, he bounded over to them, his grin practically splitting his face.

“Well, well,” he said, plopping down in the seat next to Logan. “Look at you two. What’d you lovebirds get up to today?”

Logan tensed, his jaw tightening as he shot Wade a warning glance.

“Ran errands,” he said curtly, taking a sip from his drink.

“Bought gifts,” Y/N added with a smile, her tone light and unbothered.

Wade’s eyes flicked between the two of them, his smirk growing. “Oh, gifts, huh? For each other, maybe?”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “For everyone but each other, actually.”

Wade leaned closer to Logan, lowering his voice but making no effort to hide his teasing grin. “You’re gonna spill every detail later,” he said conspiratorially. “Or else.”

Logan sighed, his gaze flickering toward Y/N, who seemed blissfully unaware of Wade’s antics. “You’re relentless,” he muttered.

“And you love me for it,” Wade shot back, raising his glass in mock salute.

For Y/N, the day had been... strange. Comfortable in some ways, yet unsettling in others. Being around Logan had a way of grounding her and throwing her off balance all at once, a mix of feelings she couldn’t quite name.

For Logan, it had been much the same. A day that lingered, heavy with a tension he couldn’t ignore and wasn’t ready to face.

As they left the bar and stepped into the cold night air, neither of them said much, but the weight of the unspoken hung between them, unacknowledged yet undeniable.

———

*Christmas Eve*

The apartment was aglow with the warm light of fairy lights strung across the walls and a small Christmas tree standing proudly in the corner. The scent of roasted vegetables and spiced desserts filled the air, mixing with the soft hum of holiday music playing from the speakers.

Y/N stood on a chair near the window, carefully hanging the last of the ornaments, a delicate glass star. She adjusted it until it caught the light just right, a satisfied smile tugging at her lips. Her long red dress shimmered faintly in the glow of the lights, hugging her figure in all the right ways while remaining elegant and festive.

Logan walked in from the kitchen, a dish towel slung over his shoulder. He stopped mid-step, his breath catching as his eyes fell on her.

She was radiant.

He couldn’t look away, and for a moment, everything else faded: the chatter from the kitchen, the music, even the sound of Wade's muffled laughter from somewhere down the hall.

For a moment, he forgot where he was.

“Logan?”

Her voice pulled him back, startling him. He blinked, feeling caught, and quickly masked his reaction.

“Yeah?” he replied, his voice gruff.

Her brow furrowed slightly, as though she wanted to ask something, but before she could, the front door swung open with a burst of energy.

“We’re here!” Wade’s booming voice broke the moment.

Logan exhaled quietly in relief, stepping aside as Wade entered, grinning from ear to ear. Behind him followed a petite older woman with cropped gray hair and a sharp yet welcoming presence. Her dark glasses hinted at her blindness, but her confident stride suggested it had never slowed her down.

“Y/N, this is Althea,” Wade announced with dramatic flair. “Al, meet the famous new roommate. Be warned—she’s deceptively charming.”

Y/N laughed, stepping forward with an outstretched hand. “It’s great to finally meet you. Wade talks about you all the time.”

“Does he?” Althea’s tone was dry, but the faint curve of her lips showed her amusement. Ignoring Y/N’s hand, she reached out instead, her fingers brushing Y/N’s arm. “Forgive me, I don’t do handshakes. May I...?”

Y/N quickly caught on, her voice warm. “Of course.”

Althea’s hands moved gently to Y/N’s face, tracing her features with practiced care. Y/N held still, feeling a blend of curiosity and vulnerability.

“You’ve got a kind face,” Althea remarked, a smile softening her sharp features. “And I’d bet beautiful too.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed. She laughed lightly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “That’s very sweet of you to say.”

Wade, observing the scene from the kitchen, raised a brow. “Look at you, Al, playing all sweet. Y/N, don’t let her fool you. She’s got a mouth that could make a sailor blush.”

“Shut the fuck up, Wade,” Althea shot back without missing a beat, her tone deadpan.

Y/N burst into laughter, startled by the abruptness of the retort. The sound of her laugh made Logan glance over from his spot near the counter. His lips twitched, caught between a smirk and something softer.

Wade caught the look and snorted. He leaned in closer to Logan, dropping his voice. “Oh, man, you’re hopeless.”

Logan scowled, draining his drink in one go. “Shut up, Wade.”

Unfazed, Wade grinned. “Hey, just saying— there’s mistletoe. Clock’s ticking.”

Logan’s ears burned red, but he turned away, pretending to busy himself with setting the table.

“Alright, ladies!” Wade called, clapping his hands. “Dinner’s ready. Let’s feast!”

———

The four of them gathered around the small dining table, the dishes carefully arranged in the center. Wade had gone all out, as usual, and the spread was both impressive and slightly chaotic.

Y/N found herself seated next to Logan, their chairs close enough that their elbows occasionally brushed as they passed plates back and forth.

“This looks amazing,” Y/N said, her eyes wide as she surveyed the food.

“Don’t give Wade too much credit,” Logan grumbled. “Half of this was my doing.”

“Hey!” Wade protested, pointing his fork at Logan. “Without me, this meal would’ve been functional but boring. Like you.”

Althea snorted, cutting in with a smirk. “Oh, please, the two of you are basically a mismatched couple from some sitcom. You just need a laugh track.”

The meal carried on, Wade cracking jokes like it was his job (it is) and Logan sighing like he couldn’t care less. Still, there was a rhythm to their back-and-forth, one that made Y/N smile even when Wade was pushing the boundaries.

At one point, Wade casually leaned back and tossed out a comment about how Logan’s “festive cheer” seemed to skyrocket whenever Y/N was around. Logan didn’t hesitate— his foot shot out under the table, hitting Wade’s leg.

Wade yelped, clutching his leg. “Rude! I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking!”

“Keep it up, and I’ll aim higher,” Logan muttered.

Y/N chuckled, her shoulders shaking slightly, but she didn’t say anything. Wade, sensing he was close to crossing a line, dialed it back just enough. The jokes stayed, but the comments about Logan and Y/N turned more playful, less obvious.

By the time the food was gone and the playlist had shifted to quieter, slower songs, the atmosphere felt easy, comfortable. Logan leaned back in his chair, his arm casually draped over the back of Y/N’s chair. He didn’t think much of it—it just felt like a natural place for it to be.

Y/N leaned back slightly, her shoulder brushing against his arm every so often. If she noticed, she didn’t say anything, and neither did he. Wade noticed, of course. He always noticed. But for once, he kept his mouth shut, letting the moment pass without a single jab or smirk.

Logan found himself watching Y/N as she laughed at something Althea said, her whole face lighting up. He didn’t realize he was staring, not really. Everything about the evening felt oddly normal, like this was just how things were meant to be.

———

Y/N and Althea sat side by side on the couch, the room warm and quiet now that dinner had ended. Logan leaned against the kitchen counter, nursing a glass of whiskey, while Wade sprawled in an armchair, pretending to be invested in their conversation. In reality, his focus shifted between the two women and Logan, who seemed utterly captivated by every word Y/N spoke, though he still didn’t seem to realize it.

Wade smirked faintly to himself, but again, said nothing.

“You know,” Althea was saying, “it’s rare to find people who make you feel at home so quickly. You’ve got a good heart, Y/N. I can see why these two keep you around.”

Y/N laughed. “Well, thank you, though I’m still figuring out how to deal with them sometimes.” She glanced playfully toward Logan and Wade.

“Hey!” Wade interjected, feigning offense. “We’re delightful.”

“That’s debatable,” Althea quipped.

They all laughed, and Y/N reached for a small bag she had tucked away under the coffee table. “Speaking of feeling at home, I actually got you a little something. Just a small gift.”

Althea’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “For me?”

Y/N handed her the bag, and inside was a plush, incredibly soft sweater in a deep burgundy color.

“For winter,” Y/N explained, smiling. “I thought it might be cozy for the colder days.”

Althea ran her hands over the fabric, her expression softening. “Alright, you’re officially my favorite now.”

Wade gasped dramatically. “What about us?”

Logan smirked into his glass, shaking his head.

“You two?” Althea said, turning her face toward the men with mock exasperation. “I don’t even know how Y/N puts up with you.”

The group laughed, the easy warmth of the evening wrapping around them like a blanket.

Once the laughter subsided, Wade and Logan presented their shared gift to Althea— a huge weighted blanket in a beautiful forest green color.

“For when you’re not here to roast us,” Wade said with a wink.

Althea ran her hands over the blanket, her lips curving into a genuine smile. “Alright, fine, maybe you two aren’t so bad. Thank you.”

———

When it was time for Althea to leave, Wade grabbed his coat and keys, patting Althea’s shoulder as they headed for the door. “I’ll drive her back. Don’t burn the place down while I’m gone,” he teased, looking between Logan and Y/N.

“We’ll try to behave,” Y/N replied with a grin, earning a chuckle from Wade and a low, amused hum from Logan.

As the door closed behind them, the apartment was blanketed in a peaceful quiet. The soft glow of the Christmas lights cast warm patterns on the walls, and the faint scent of cinnamon and pine lingered in the air.

Logan moved to the table, stacking plates. “We should probably clean this up,” he said, glancing over at Y/N.

“Good idea,” she agreed, grabbing a tray of glasses. They worked side by side in silence, their movements synchronized without effort.

“You didn’t have to get Althea anything,” Logan said after a moment, his voice low. “She’s not really the sentimental type.”

Y/N shrugged, glancing over her shoulder. “It wasn’t about that. She’s important to you and Wade, and I wanted to show I appreciate her too.”

Logan paused, his hands stilling for a moment. “She seemed to like you.”

“She’s easy to like,” Y/N replied with a smile, turning back to the sink. “I think she keeps you grounded.”

Logan let out a small huff of amusement. “Yeah, she does. She’s one of the few people who knows how to call me out without pissing me off.”

Y/N chuckled, her fingers brushing against his as she handed him a glass to dry. “That’s a skill worth respecting.”

The quiet between them was comfortable, almost tangible, but it was broken when Logan cleared his throat. “Speaking of gifts…”

Y/N turned, curious. Logan reached behind a stack of plates and pulled out a small box, wrapped neatly in dark green paper. “I, uh… I got you something.”

Her brows lifted in surprise. “Logan, you didn’t have to—”

“Just open it,” he interrupted, his tone gruff but soft.

Taking the box, Y/N unwrapped it carefully, revealing a delicate necklace with a shimmering emerald pendant. The stone caught the light beautifully, its hues shifting like the ocean.

“Logan,” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s stunning.”

He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “I thought it might suit you.”

Her fingers brushed over the pendant, her heart swelling at the thoughtfulness of the gesture. But then, realization dawned, and her eyes widened. “Wait… is this an emerald? Logan, this is way too much!”

“It’s a gift,” he said simply, his tone brooking no argument.

She looked at him, torn between awe and disbelief. “I can’t believe you—”

“Let me help,” he murmured, taking the necklace from her hands.

Y/N turned around, holding her breath as he fastened it around her neck. His fingers brushed against her skin, sending a shiver down her spine. When she turned back to face him, their eyes met, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.

“Thank you,” she said softly, her voice thick with emotion.

Logan’s gaze lingered, his expression unreadable. He wanted to say something, anything, but the words eluded him. Instead, he gave a small nod, stepping back just enough to give her space.

“I should get your gift,” Y/N said, breaking the spell as she hurried to her room.

She returned with a neatly wrapped package. Logan opened it carefully, revealing a sleek black leather jacket. His brows lifted, his fingers brushing over the material.

“You mentioned your old one was wearing out,” Y/N said quickly. “And I thought—”

“It’s perfect,” Logan interrupted, his voice steady but warm.

She relaxed, her smile widening as she watched him try it on. It fit perfectly, the jacket molding to his broad frame like it had been made for him.

Relief washed over her, and she returned his smile. “I’m glad.”

Logan raised an eyebrow as he looked at the jacket again. "So, let me get this straight... you can get me a jacket as fancy as this, but I can’t even get you a beautiful necklace for Christmas?" he teased, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm.

Y/N smirked and shrugged nonchalantly, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "It’s Christmas, Logan. Don’t overthink it," she replied, brushing him off with a quick wave of her hand.

Logan chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, right, of course. Christmas," he muttered, half to himself. He glanced at the jacket again, his fingers brushing the smooth material. “You didn’t have to go to all that trouble,” he said quietly.

“You’re worth it,” Y/N said before she could stop herself.

Logan looked up, his eyes locking onto hers. The weight of her words hung in the air, unspoken but deeply felt.

The moment stretched between them, the only sound being the Christmas playlist in the background, playing on low volume. Logan’s hand brushed hers as he set the jacket down, and Y/N felt her heart skip a beat.

Before either of them could say more, the front door swung open.

“I’m back!” Wade announced as he burst through the door. “I hope you two didn’t burn the place down without me.”

Y/N and Logan stepped apart almost instinctively, their brief closeness retreating into the unspoken space between them.

“Place is still standing,” Logan said, his tone calm as he leaned against the counter, arms crossed.

Wade gave him a pointed look, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly before they flicked over to the small box on the table. He didn’t comment immediately, though a knowing smirk tugged at his lips. “Good. Hate to think I’d miss out on the drama. So,” he added, as casually as Wade could manage, “what’ve you two been up to?”

“Just cleaning up,” Y/N said with a warm smile, the necklace still hanging delicately around her neck.

Wade’s eyes landed on the necklace, his smirk widening briefly before he shook it off and clapped his hands together. “Right, cleaning. Sure. Well, hope you saved me some holiday cheer. Now, let’s finish this properly and…give me my gifts.”

As Y/N moved toward the living room to join him by the tree, Wade paused briefly near Logan. He leaned in, speaking just low enough to avoid Y/N overhearing.

“Nice gift, Peanut,” he murmured, a sly grin on his face. “Now, try to take the next step.”

Logan shot him a warning glare but said nothing, shaking his head as Wade walked off with a chuckle.

By the tree, Y/N had already settled herself cross-legged on the floor, her fingers absentmindedly brushing against the pendant. Logan hesitated, standing back for a moment as Wade grabbed a gift and rattled it loudly.

“Come on, Grinch, get over here,” Wade said, louder this time.

Logan sighed and made his way over, sitting a bit stiffly on the couch behind Y/N. His gaze lingered on her as she leaned toward the tree, her movements soft and unassuming. She turned slightly, catching his eye with a brief smile that made something stir in his chest.

As the night carried on, the living room buzzed softly with warmth, the twinkle of Christmas lights casting a gentle glow. Wade lounged near the tree, holding court with one of his exaggerated stories about a gift exchange gone horribly wrong. Y/N laughed, her face lighting up as she added her own tale— a hilarious recount of a miscommunication during her first Secret Santa at work.

Logan sat on the couch, watching them. He leaned back, silent, his gaze flickering between Wade’s theatrical gestures and the way Y/N’s smile reached her eyes. The sound of her laugh stirred something warm and sharp in him, though he kept his face impassive.

The way she wore that necklace—his gift to her—like it had always belonged there. And maybe it did. But that didn’t mean he did.

The leather jacket sat on the coffee table. He still wasn’t sure what to make of it. It wasn’t just the thoughtfulness— it was the way it seemed to fit him so perfectly, like she had known something about him that even he didn’t.

“You’re quiet, Peanut,” Wade teased, nudging him with his foot. “Plotting your next great escape?”

Logan huffed, shaking his head. “Just listening.”

Y/N smiled at him, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Alright, Logan,” she said, leaning slightly toward him, “what’s the worst gift you’ve ever received?”

He blinked, caught off guard. For a moment, the question cut through the haze of his thoughts, and he scrambled to push the weight of his emotions aside.

“Worst gift?” he repeated.

“Yeah,” Y/N prompted, tilting her head with that easy, genuine interest she always carried.

“Probably a pair of socks with reindeer on them,” Logan said with a wry smirk. “Ugliest thing I ever saw.”

Wade snorted. “Bet you still wore them, though.”

Logan shrugged, his lips twitching. “They were warm.”

“I know I love mine.” Wade said as he put his feet in the air, showing off the socks Y/N had got him.

The conversation flowed on, but Logan felt himself retreating into his thoughts again.

Y/N’s fingers brushed the pendant around her neck, and Logan’s heart stuttered in his chest. She wore his gift like it was a part of her, and somehow that made the ache in his chest sharper.

The truth clawed at him, relentless. He wanted something to happen— something more than these stolen moments of warmth. But he couldn’t let himself have it. Not with her.

Not someone like her.

Someone so kind, so brilliant, so effortlessly beautiful. Someone who deserved all the light and laughter she brought into the world. Someone who didn’t deserve the shadow of his past— the darkness he never spoke about, the weight of nightmares that dragged him down night after night.

The necklace had been a mistake. A moment of weakness. When he’d chosen it, he hadn’t thought about what it meant, only that it was perfect for her. 

Oh, who was he kidding? Of course he knew what it meant.

But the moment he held it in his hands, the contrast had been too evident. It felt almost cruel to give her something so precious, as if he were trying to convince her he was something he wasn’t.

Wade’s voice cut through his thoughts, dragging his focus back to the room. Logan could feel his friend’s eyes on him. Wade always saw too much.

And Wade knew. Of course, he did. The way Logan’s gaze lingered just a second too long, the way his words faltered whenever Y/N was near. Wade saw it all, he knew it wasn’t just a simple little crush. It was probably the reason why he wouldn’t stop commenting on it.

But Logan didn’t need any of it. He didn’t need Wade pointing out how far he’d already fallen.

His heart ached with the weight of it. The selfishness of wanting to reach out, to take a chance, to risk everything for the possibility of more. But it was her. And he couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

He swallowed hard, forcing himself to meet Wade’s eyes briefly. He saw the smirk, the unspoken challenge, and ignored it.

He’d make it through this. He’d hide what he felt. He had to.

Because Y/N deserved better than him.

Logan leaned back on the couch, his face as still as stone as he forced his thoughts into submission.

“Alright,” Wade said, clapping his hands. “Time for another story— this one’s a real masterpiece.”

Logan let out a low hum, feigning interest as Wade began, but his focus was elsewhere.

Y/N’s laugh rang out again, soft and clear, and Logan clenched his jaw against the warmth it stirred.

He’d pretend. He’d hide.

And maybe, if he was lucky, it would be enough.

XXX

[vintage-love-nasha]

To be honest, I know things get worse.

I went for Umrah and really prayed for things in my life to improve . But you know how sometimes you feel so helpless that you want to give up on everything in life? That’s me right now.

I feel very helpless . I’ve lost control of my life . I tried my best to make things work. Tried my best to get a stable and good job , tried my best to not be in my own cave and go out and socialise.

But I have failed. In the last 10 years , I have done everything by myself . I’ve found my own way out in life with zero help, although im proud sometimes I feel if I had some sort of backing or incredible support my luck would’ve improved .

Such as friends who would refer me to better jobs or ways to invest for a better future . A partner who would guide me how to love and let go of my anger . At one point in my life , every time I felt sad I had an incredible friend who would go and have pastamania with me, which is my comfort food . Just one call away and we would have sausage pasta (spicy) with coke and waffle fries. Now she’s married just like everyone else .

Sometimes I can’t get over the feeling of my own حسرت— why is it that all the girls always get good partners . All my friends got good partners , no one ever thought about me , no one ever approached me for marriage. Even if they did, there was always another girl who was better than me and beat me to it. Always. It’s like as if all the time and energy I invested in a man, all the love I had for him was worthless, it is like as if I am invisible and don’t even matter . But the other girl always wins in life . She gets the life I always desired meanwhile I have to pick up all of my scattered love, reshuffle and think— where do I put it? I have nowhere to put it! Why must things get destroyed for me? Why must I be the one suffering ? I am not even a chaalak person, I am homely . I like to do ghardaari but I am never the chosen one . I am also loyal but never chosen.

Now, I just have pastamania alone because I lost my friends , I have no one to eat with , no one to chill with: I spend so much time with my cat and watching Pakistani dramas . I listen to coke studio and Atif Aslam. I love Honey Singh.

It’s so difficult to explain to someone who sees you as a stranger and hater that I have been holding my own fort for the longest time . That even if I get angry please understand it is due to incredible stress. If you think you can’t handle and I deserve to be blocked or never spoken to , go ahead maybe that’s all im worth .

I’ve always asked for strength to keep going but I find myself running out of strength .

Support builds character , growth and good mindset . It has been very difficult to be alone in my 20s. My sisters got married , and after my second sister got married , I felt so alone at home . Now I am exactly 30, it’s overwhelming to grow old .

I’m lucky to have my parents , but caring for them and worrying about their health every single day eats into my strength.

Whose shoulder do I cry on? I hate crying in front of my parents because I need to be their strength .

I don’t know what to do. I have tried everything’. Everything that I possibly could in my hands .

I wish that someone would just sit with me and say to me “I genuinely care about you. And your well being”.

I wish I wasn’t suffering . My brain is going to explode with all the sadness.

X

Bird (Andrea Arnold, 2024)

[gregorovitch-adler]

Confessions

John gazed at Sherlock from across the table as they had dinner together at home.

Mariana had left for Spain this morning, because Christmas was just around the corner.

Sherlock and John had set up the Christmas tree together -- with all the decorations and everything -- and were just waiting for the Christmas Day to come.

The kitchen was dimly lit, and the table was surprisingly clean today.

John had been wanting to say something to Sherlock for a long time now. Talk about his feelings for him, specifically.

Ever since the two of them started their crime-solving journey, by solving the case of 'The Illustrious Client' together, Sherlock and John became quite close.

Over the course of time, John had fallen in love.

Who wouldn't? And no, this question was not just rhetoric. It was rather a challenge from John to everyone out there.

Anyone who got the opportunity to live with a guy like Sherlock -- lively, enthusiastic about almost anything the world had to offer, brilliant, kind, charming, and beautiful -- would not have it in them to resist him. Of this, John was absolutely certain.

John tried to bring himself back to the present moment and picked at his food on the plate with his spoon.

"It's not going to eat itself, Watson."

John looked up at Sherlock from his plate, and he was taken aback by the intensity with which Sherlock was looking at him, too, now.

Could it be that he too...?

John shook his head and sighed before finally starting to eat. "Yeah, of course." John sat straight and let out a fake laugh. "You're right."

"You're not here. Not mentally, at least," Sherlock declared. He leaned over the table and dropped his deep voice to a whisper. "Where are you?" he asked in a mock-scandalous tone.

That was it, John thought. He could not contain himself anymore. It was the season of confessions, after all. Or something like that. "Sherlock, I've been meaning to tell you something. This has been on my mind for a while now."

Sherlock's face became guarded. He looked down at his plate. "Really? Because I also want to tell you something."

John put down his spoon and held his breath. "Oh? Go on, then. You first."

Sherlock looked up at John through his long lashes with his big, brown eyes filled with an emotion John couldn't quite put his finger on.

"I wanted to tell you that... that when you sometimes sleep in after a long case, I come upstairs, over to your room, and I stand in the doorway to watch you sleep for a few moments."

John's heartbeat picked up speed, and he flushed up at Sherlock's words. "Why - why's that?" There it was -- his classic stutter, every time a situation like this came up.

Sherlock's eyes then hinted at some mischief. John did not miss Sherlock's subtle smirk either. "Because you snore so much. I think we really need to take you to a sleep clinic sometime." Sherlock bit his bottom lip, probably to resisting an urge to burst out laughing.

John rolled his eyes. "Alright, whatever. I'm going upstairs." He placed his hands on the table and made to get up and leave.

Sherlock dropped his silverware on his plate and grabbed John by both of his wrists, making him stay where he was seated. "Okay, okay. That's clearly not what you want to talk about right now. Tell me what it is."

"Promise me you won't laugh it off, even if you don't like what I'm about to say to you." John turned his wrists to hold Sherlock's hands in his own. He tried to appear dead serious.

Sherlock's face changed from looking amused to quite earnest. "I promise." He squeezed John's hands in reassurance.

"We've become quite close since we started solving crimes together, haven't we? So much has changed since then."

Sherlock gave him a silent nod.

"From me finding you really annoying in the beginning because of your late night violin playing sessions, among loads of other things, to..."

"To?" Sherlock demanded. His voice became hoarse.

John gazed into Sherlock's eyes some more, trying to gather enough courage to spit it out already. He inhaled deeply.

"To me now having come to a point where I can't imagine the rest of my life without you. To a point where I feel so scared when I don't see you around at home in the mornings for whatever reason." John swallowed. "Sherlock, I would feel so lost if you were to leave me at some point in the future, as though I were stranded in a desert. Completely alone."

Sherlock was staring at John with his lips parted. His face was still unreadable. "Why's that?"

"Can't you deduce it?" John said with his brow furrowed. "You do have enough data at this point!"

Sherlock shook his head. "I want to hear you say it. I need you to spell it out. You know I'm not the best person when it comes to reading between the lines." His voice was shaking.

John nodded in understanding. "I love you."

There, he said it. It was all out now.

John squared his shoulders, feeling oddly confident in that moment. Whatever the consequences, he felt ready to face them all.

"I - me too." Sherlock visibly swallowed. "Everything you said just now -- I feel the same way."

Sherlock looked like he wanted to say more, so much more, but he was not in the state to be more eloquent than that just yet.

John didn't need him to.

John smiled and leaned in towards Sherlock over the table.

Sherlock met him halfway and tilted his face to kiss John on the mouth. His lips went from hesitant to intense to desperate in a matter of seconds.

John mirrored all those feelings and much more. He grabbed Sherlock's face and began to pour all the passion and love he had been feeling for this man into the kiss.

They broke off the kiss after a while, feeling out of breath.

Sherlock and John locked eyes with each other and exchanged a knowing smile.

They continued to have dinner with their fingers intertwined.

Both of them were aware of the unspoken promise waiting for them—the rest of the night, perhaps even the rest of their lives.

**

Prompt: Confessions by @fluff-cember

Tags: @helloliriels @lisbeth-kk @jamielovesjam @keirgreeneyes @totallysilvergirl @topsyturvy-turtely @peanitbear @calaisreno @gaylilsherlock , etc.