#Christmas spread 🎄

[earththings]

[chloesimaginationthings]

The FNAF animatronics aren’t evil,, just jolly

[timelessxmemories]

The closer Christmas approaches, the more prominent my Buddy shift is! Like now!!

[namitha]

Christmas is the celebration of the transcendental God who becomes human, to release suffering and abandoned mankind. The birth of Jesus in Bethlehem represents the victory of light over darkness, joy over sadness, hope over despair, love over hatred, peace over conflict, gratitude over misery, obedience over disobedience, and order over chaos. I wish each and every one of you a very merry Christmas. May this celebration bring us joy, peace and new hope. 🎄🌟☃️❄️🌟🎄

🎄 Merry Christmas 🎄

.

[antvnger]

So I picked a couple of kids off one of those community Christmas trees who wouldn’t get a Christmas this year otherwise, and I took Cassie with me shopping.

We totally went overboard, but I don’t care. Those kids deserve a Christmas too.

If your community has something like this, I definitely encourage you to go out and give a kid a Christmas too!

If you legitimately cant, I totally understand! No pressure! But if you can, then make a kid’s year and give them a Christmas too ❤️🎄

[shekiko]

Saley Wind Christmas Snow Culture Bull Sweater Woman

[neondiamond]

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[aphroditelovesu]

Winter Solstice | Yan!HOTD

❝ 🐉 — lady l: Merry Christmas, my dear readers! I wish you a great day and a prosperous New Year! I hope you enjoy this Christmas special with our yandere family from HOTD! Good reading, forgive me for any mistakes and once again, have a great holiday to you ❤️🎄.

❝warnings: yandere themes, mention of death and obsessive and possessive behavior.

❝🐉word count: 1,941.

A long, long time ago, when the Earth was young and the days were short, people looked up to the sky with wonder and awe. They watched the Sun rise and fall over the horizon, its heat bringing life to the earth and its dark nights bringing a deep sleep to the world.

In the ancient realm of the seasons, each cycle marked the eternal dance between light and dark. As winter approached, a whisper spread through nature. Leaves fell from the trees, animals sought shelter and the nights extended, enveloping the world in a blanket of darkness and cold.

It was the time of the Winter Solstice, a magical moment when the Earth seemed suspended between extremes. People gathered around campfires, telling stories of times gone by, sharing warmth and hope amid the impending darkness.

On the eve of the longest night of the year, eyes turned to the sky, waiting for the miracle. Slowly, the Sun began its journey towards the horizon, fighting the darkness with its golden light. The stars twinkled above, bearing witness to the celestial spectacle.

And then, in the most sublime moment, the Sun began to rise, rising majestically into the sky. The colors of dawn painted the landscape, and people celebrated the rebirth of the Sun, knowing that light and warmth would return to the world. It was a symbol of renewal, hope and the continuous cycle of life.

On the Winter Solstice, people came together to celebrate the courage of the light that faces the darkness, remembering that even in the darkest moments, there is always the promise of rebirth and the light that returns to warm the hearts and illuminate the souls ways.

It had always been your favorite time of year, you loved how the snow fell from the sky and painted everything white, the food, the exchange of gifts and most importantly, it was when your whole family was together. You appreciated more than anything the few moments of peace that your family spent during that date, all happy and together. Like a big, loving family.

Having them all together was what you loved most as you grew up. All the disputes, the fights seemed to disappear during this time of year. Your heart and mind were at peace.

The green of the forest and the fiery red of love and passion. Its fabric was as soft as a spring breeze, a harmonious blend of silk and cotton that moved like leaves dancing in the wind. The predominant green was reminiscent of treetops, its hue varying from a lush emerald green to softer nuances, like newborn buds. The waist was accentuated by a deep red belt, as if it were the blush of the petals of a passionate rose. The intense tone stood out, creating a magnificent contrast with the lush greenery, and a decorative bow added a touch of elegance.

Something beautiful and elegant, with both of your family colors. Of the Targaryens and the Hightowers. There was some small, discreet blue embroidery that symbolized the Velaryon, subtle but standing out in its own way.

You turned to your maid who was looking at you with affection, you smiled at her, ''What do you think, Diane?''

She smiled widely, ''You looked incredible, my princess/prince. A suitable choice for a dinner with your family.'' There was a hint of worry in her tone, but you just held her hands and squeezed them gently.

''Don't worry, Diane. Everything will be fine.''

She nodded, ''Yes... Do you want me to accompany you to where the banquet will be held?''

You politely denied, ''No, but thank you.''

A hint of disappointment flashed in her brown eyes, but she just smiled and after a simple bow, she left the room. You took a deep breath and looked at the ring that adorned your finger, a gift from your grandfather, Viserys. He was sick and you swore to yourself that you would do everything to make this dinner enjoyable for him. He deserved it.

Just as you expected, everything was impeccable and your family was already waiting for you. A majestic dining room, adorned with golden chandeliers that hung from the vaulted ceiling, casting soft light on long solid wood tables.

The walls were covered with richly embroidered tapestries, depicting scenes from Targaryen history and grand festivities. The polished stone floor gleamed in the light of the torches that adorned the walls, reflecting the grandeur of the space.

In the center of the room, a long table stretched out, covered in an immaculate linen tablecloth and decorated with wildflower arrangements and heraldry of noble families. Silver candelabras exuded a soft glow, while golden goblets glittered in the dancing light of the flames.

Music filled the atmosphere as skilled musicians played lutes, flutes and harps, entertaining guests with happy melodies and lively dances.

''(Y/N)!'' Your mother's excited voice called out to you and you smiled at Rhaenyra, who quickly hugged you, placing her head against the crook of your neck, ''You look great, sweetheart.''

''Thanks, mom. You look great too.'' And indeed, she did. Rhaenyra wore a dark red dress decorated with gold that fit her perfectly. She pulled back a little and smiled at you.

''(Y/N)! We're here.'' On one side of the table, your younger brothers sat. You looked at Jacaerys, Lucerys, and little Joffrey, who were smiling at you. You kissed Rhaenyra's cheek and went to sit next to your brothers. Or you tried, for that matter.

For you were quickly pulled to the side as Aegon grabbed you and pulled you closer to him, Aemond, and Helaena. You smiled at your aunt and uncles and greeted them.

''Sit with us.'' Aegon asked and pointed to an empty chair next to Helaena who was smiling sweetly at you. You looked nervously at your brothers, who were staring at Aegon with disdain.

Aemond frowned and placed a hand over your shoulder, ''Come, stay with us.'' His tone said there was no room for argument.

Luckily for you, the doors opened and revealed Viserys along with Alicent, both smiling when they saw you. You apologized to your aunt and uncles and quickly walked over to your grandparents, helping Viserys sit down.

''Ah, (Y/N)... You look great!'' Viserys praised you, as soon as he sat down. You smiled at him and kissed his cheek in thanks.

Alicent pulled you into a tight hug, ''My husband is right, you look great. This shade of green suits you very well.'' She murmured and walked away hesitantly, adjusting your clothes. You kissed your face.

''Thanks. You look amazing too.'' She smiled in response and held your hands, squeezing them gently.

After a few minutes of talking to your grandparents, you walked over to your father and uncle, who were sitting next to each other. Laenor smiled widely and pulled you into a tight hug, not wanting to let go. He only let go when Daemon cleared his throat, irritated.

Laenor rolled his eyes and let go of you, staring at Daemon with an iron gaze. Daemon returned the same look and you acted quickly before they fought.

''Happy Solstice to you both.'' You said, twiddling your fingers nervously. Daemon smiled and patted you on the shoulder twice, pulling you into a hug. You hugged him back.

''Happy Solstice, my child.'' Laenor said after you and Daemon parted ways.

''Happy Solstice, (Y/N).'' Daemon said, looking at you softly. You thanked them and apologized as you left them, wanting to greet your other family members. You spotted Baela and Rhaena sitting near your brothers and quickly walked over to them.

''Finally. I thought you would never come and talk to us.'' Baela complained and got up from the chair and hugged you tightly, ''I missed you, cousin.''

You returned the hug tightly, smiling at her words, ''I missed you too, cousin.''

Rhaena cleared her throat and stood up, hugging you as you and Baela separated.

You smiled at the squeeze and said, ''I missed you too, Rhaena.''

Joffrey got out of his chair and jumped into your arms, laughing loudly when you caught him in a tight hug.

''You're getting too big for me to keep doing this.'' You laughed and rolled him over, placing him on the floor. Russing his dark hair, you smiled when he laughed. You hugged Luke, who seemed especially clingy today. Jace also hugged you tightly and wished you a Happy Solstice.

After talking for a while with your brothers and cousins, you went to greet your paternal grandparents. Rhaenys and Corlys were sitting next to Otto, oddly enough, and the three of them looked at you with affection.

''Grandmother.'' You kissed Rhaenys's cheek who kissed yours back.

''Grandpa.'' You hugged Corlys and he hugged you back and complimented the blue details on your outfit.

''Otto.'' You greeted your great-grandfather, who smiled warmly at you. He seemed relaxed and calm, more so than he normally was.

''Shall we have dinner in honor of this happy day?'' Viserys's loud voice sounded in the room and everyone focused on the King. There was a bit of tension about where you should sit, but you chose next to Viserys and Rhaenyra, who shook your hand under the table.

Servants brought silver trays loaded with delicious delicacies. Large roasts of meat browned on skewers, exuding a tantalizing aroma of exotic spices. Tables were adorned with fresh fruit, from crimson apples to juicy grapes, and freshly baked bread that looked like it had come straight from the oven.

Plenty of wine circulated among everyone and soon everyone was laughing and talking. Your heart felt lighter when you saw your entire family happy, getting along for the first time in a long time.

After the banquet, you all went to one of the rooms of the castle, where the gifts were. The exchange went well, you received gifts from everyone individually and you presented them with what you carefully chose. Ser Criston was present and you gave him a gift too, under the watchful eye of your family, a pure Valyrian steel sword. He smiled in thanks and said he would give you a gift later.

When it seemed like the exchange of gifts was over, Otto said, ''We have a special gift for you, (Y/N). From all of us.'' He gestured to your entire family, who looked on expectantly. You took the gift from his hand, a wooden box with gold details, which was well packaged.

As soon as you opened it, all the color in your face disappeared. It was a head, a human head. You felt like you were going to throw up when you recognized the head. Diane, your servant.

''W-What is this?!'' You groaned, the words stuck in your throat as you held the box, your legs shaking as terror invaded your body. Everyone seemed calm, even Viserys.

''This is our gift to you, my child.'' Rhaenyra said and approached you, placing a hand on your shoulder, ''To remind you not to approach anyone.''

''They can't be trusted,'' Alicent began to say, ''Diane couldn't be trusted. Criston was the one who cut off her head and Rhaenyra, Helaena and I cradled her. The choice of the box was Daemon's.''

They looked at you expectantly, as if they hoped you really liked the gift. Your hands were shaking so much that the box fell to the floor, Diane's severed head falling to the floor.

A perfect ending to a loving Winter Solstice with your family, from their perspective.

[writingsbymo-mo]

Forgive me, Father

Priest!Taiju Shiba x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit (minors dni)

Contains: Priest kink, creampie, voyeurism, sex in a church, degradation, implied pregnancy, rough sex, pet names

Summary: you've been having a difficult time paying attention during mass ever since you caught Father Taiju fucking someone in the sacistry. Now you can't get the thought of him doing the same to you until one fateful day.....

Hope you enjoy! And Merry Christmas you filthy animals!!! hehehe

🎄🎁🎄🎁🎄🎁🎄🎁🎄🎁🎄🎁🎄🎁🎄🎁🎄🎁🎄🎁🎄🎁🎄🎁🎄

It was a dark and cool evening. You had just gotten off work, headed straight to the confessional at your church. You had so, so many sinful thoughts of Father Taiju, one of the priests spreading the word of god at your church. A mere glimpse from his serious gaze while you're sitting in the pews during mass has you squirming in your seat.

Father Taiju took his work very seriously as an honest man of God or...so you thought.

One day, you caught him fucking a fellow church goer in the sacistry. You hid outside the cracked door, covering your mouth the whole time, fingering yourself as you bit your bottom lip, holding in moan after moan. Every wet slap, and deep growl emanating from him sent you spiraling until you came with him.

Fuck

You wanted to be the woman in there.

To get a taste of Father Taiju's dick.

With that tall, muscular structure that screamed he was well endowed, how could you not want to see what he's packing. Just the way he gleamed at you with those sharp eyes, judging your every move. He'd often clutch his rosary as you passed, closing his eyes and rubbing the beads. Was he praying for a sinner such as yourself? Or...did he have something else he was hiding?

The doors to the church creaked as you opened them and closed them behind you. Your choes clacked against the polished, pristine floors that led you to the nave where Father Taiju would reside in the confessional during this time. You managed to snag an appointment with him for today all thanks to your shitty work schedule.

One thing you remember, he never took his eyes off you during the scheduling process, almost like he was looking forward to it more than you were. The way he moved was more rigid than normal too as if he were trying to hide something whenever he leaned across the table to hand you the papers that officiated your appointment. Why? You could only devise assumptions.

You approach the confessional, admiring the intricate details in the carved wood as you entered the private space, sitting in the chair provided.

The space was so quiet, you could hear a pin drop from across the room. You relaxed your shoulders and let out a deep sigh, shifting in your seat as you whispered. "Ok." It was finally happening. You could finally speak to him in privacy. He was literally on the other side of the screened window, barely making out his silhouette.

With a deep breath you were holding in released, you began with the sign of the cross. "Bless me Father, for I have sinned. I um, haven't been to one of these in some time but," you clutched the hem of your shirt and squeezed your eyes shut, "there's someone I've been having thoughts about..." Your voice trailed off. All the hairs on your neck stood on end at the heavy air settling around you. This whole confession was so much simpler in your head, why clam up now? You want him. Need him. So why are you hesitating?

"Mmm, what kind of thoughts?"

Father Taiju's baritone voice broke your thoughts. You gasped when his sweet tone sang in your ears. He's waiting. Tell him!

"I've been having lustful, very lustful thoughts, about someone who goes here," you paused and took a deep breath, "every time I see him, I can't help but imagine stripping him down until he's bare naked...and...I might've caught him one day fucking someone...and have been imagining him doing those things to me and more..."

You bit your lip and started to squirm in your seat. What would he think of you now? Just another sinner asking for forgiveness? Seeing you as nothing more than a harlot?

"Gah, tell me more. How were you fucking this man?"

Warmth pooled into your face as you tried not to stutter. "Well...almost anything really. I want to feel his massive dick jamming into me, making me cum and scream his name over and over until I pass out." You began to hear low, deep pants from the other side but didn't pay it any mind. "I want to taste him, swallow him and his cum. And honestly...I really want him to just use me as he sees fit. He's just so fine...his muscles and the way he moans—"

"FUCK!"

Like that...oh fuck...

If you weren't feeling wet and warm earlier, you certainly were now. Your pussy twitched at every deep groan that he made until one moment, he stopped as you heard a door open. He yanked the door to your side, almost tearing it from the hinges.

You had never seen him look like this before. Taiju ran his free hand through his hair. His wild, predatory gaze sent warmth pooling into your gut. You couldn't stop your eyes from trailing down to the obvious tent behind his alb. Oh, he's definitely big, maybe bigger than you thought.

Father Taiju practically snarled, stomping into your small space in the booth, grabbing you by the arm as he kept his feral gaze upon you. He was the wolf, and you, the rabbit caught in his claws. "Come, we'll continue this elsewhere," his voice was stern with a hint of desire leaking through. He picked you up in his arms like you weighed nothing to him, carrying you off to his private quarters.

The clacking of his shoes hitting the polished floor felt like eternity, basking in the silence, waiting for his next move. He'd mumble under his breath, closing his eyes as his lips moved. Was he praying? Thinking of you? Asking for his own forgiveness to what awaits you two? You silently gasped when he shifted you in his arms, reveling in the flex of his bulging biceps. You turned your head to gain a better look at him and whispered, "Father Taiju?"

He paused his steps in front of the altar. His sharp gaze now peering into your very soul. "Shhh, don't say another word unless you'd rather I place you right here to be fucked in front of any passerby?" You shuddered a gasp at his low, deep growl as he began to chuckle darkly, "you'd like that, wouldn't you, harlot?"

"F-Father?!" You stuttered in surprise and want.

Fuck...yes, you would like that.

You swear, this man will be the death of you.

"Not today," he smiled, showing his teeth as he stroked your cheek fondly. He kicked the door to the sacistry wide open, causing you to flinch. It slams shut behind you when you're suddenly thrown onto a soft bed, almost knocking the wind out of you. Taiju throws off his clothes, throwing them onto the other side of the room without care. All that was left was the rosary around his neck, accenting the tattoos near it.

He was panting, grumbling deep in his chest. His dick stood angrily between his muscular thighs, dripping with need. The bed bounced and creaked when he pounced atop you. That yellow gaze hungered for you, screaming you're trapped, you're his now and forever more. "I've been waiting for this," he growled, ripping off your clothes and throwing them in a heap, "been waiting for you, sinner, my favorite sinner."

Taiju grabs your face as you part your lips and slams his dick into your mouth, ramming it down your throat over and over as you try not to gag too much. Your eyes roll back, beginning to lose your breath. He noticed and slid his dick out of your throat, stilling it until you caught your breath enough for his liking, picking up the pace once more as his deep growls grew louder and much closer together. Spit rained down your chin onto the sheets below, growing more plentiful by the second.

"Fucking take it like the sinner you are!!"

A few harsh thrusts later and his hot, sticky cum sprayed down your throat in quick spurts.

Your eyes widened at the fullness, attempting to swallow every drop to no avail. Saliva and cum dripped down your chin, connecting to his dick as he pulled out. You took the deepest breath you ever could, stifling a cough. The string snapped. Taiju shifted his body lower, grabbing your hips with his large hands and hoisting you up to meet his. He smirks down at your small form beneath him, grabbing his heavy dick and slapping it against your wet pussy. "Beg for it you fucking succubus," he sneered, watching you squirm and mewl with every slap on your sensitive bud.

"Please..." You rasped. Slap "FUCK!" He slapped your thigh with an open palm.

"Tch, please what?" He growled, slapping your thigh again.

"Please, Father Taiju—ooh fuuuck!!!"

He rammed his thick dick into your cunt with a wince beginning his unrelenting assault on your cervix, "so fucking tight!"

Your eyes glazed over, sputtering out moan after moan while your insides were battered and bruised in the right way. He stretched you out like no one had before, almost painful, but you welcomed him. Your walls squeezed around him with every harsh, powerful thrust. Drool pooled down your chin and onto your chest as you became drunk off his fat dick.

Taiju grabbed your legs, throwing them over his shoulder, putting you into a mating press. He gripped your hips firmly to steady you as he went harder than you ever thought he could manage. You screamed, digging your nails into his back, raking lines down the tattoo on his back. Your vision went white, letting your tongue fall out of your mouth as shockwaves shot through you with your first orgasm of the night. You screamed, body convulsing as your cunt winked around his dick still pounding away.

Father Taiju threw his head back and laughed. "You're a special one. I'll make you transcend this world over thrust and over thrust and over again!"

"F-Father!"

His eyes gleamed with adoration and lust, reaching to brush your face with the back of his hand. "You're mine, my succubus. I can't concentrate when I'm near you." His thrusts grew sloppier by the second as he growled. "Your figure drives me insane. Fuck! Those other whores can't compare to your beauty. You are a true work of God!"

You weren't sure how much more you could take. Your body already felt the fire coursing through your veins again, ready to let the dam burst. "F-Father Taiju, I-I'm gonna cum!"

"Not yet." He grabbed changed his angle slightly, making you jolt.

"But—"

"Tell me, sinner, who does this pussy belong to?" He grunted.

"Y-you Father Taiju! It belongs to you!!!"

He grips you harder, enough to leave bruises. "That's it, be a good sinner and cum for Father Taiju."

On cue, the band snapped. Juices gushed out of your pussy onto the bed below as you screamed his name. Your walls winked around him, begging for his cum that suddenly flowed into you, filling you up with warmth with a deep growl.

You stay like that for a good minute, catching your breath as you just let your body go limp. Taiju let his softening dick slip out of your pussy. Mixed fluids of cum flowed onto the sheets below, making him smile. "I have cleansed you of your sins for today," he reached around his neck, slipping the rosary over his head then placing it around your neck. "Now, if you need me again, just wear this and I'll fucking cleanse you again."

You grasp the rosary draped around your neck with a smile etched on your face. "Thank you Father!"

"No, thank you, my favorite sinner."

From then on, whenever he sees you at mass with his sacred beads around your neck, he has that knowing glint in his eyes. Some have been giving you glances and talking behind you, noticing purple bruises and scratches along your neck and back. You keep your head held high, though you can't help those days when they get to you.

"I see you're wearing my rosary today, my favorite sinner," he wipes whatever tears fall from your eyes to reassure you. "Spare those harlots over there no mind. You are mine! Care to join me in my sacistry to purify you?"

"Always, Father Taiju," you smiled as you placed a hand over your stomach.

[fayes-fics]

It's That Time Of Year

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, modern AU

Summary: It's that time of year... when you could use a fake boyfriend.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, oral sex (m to f), vaginal sex, dirty talk, hand as gag, quiet sex, sex in childhood bedroom. Fake dating, family dynamics, lots of feelings, friends to lovers.

Word Count: 11.3 k (eek Im sorry)

Authors Note: Here's my tropetacular winter 2023 Benepic! Request fill for @broooookiecrisp (HERE), who wanted fake boyfriend trope with Benedict accompanying the reader to the USA to spend Christmas with her family. I hope you like it, my dear. Thanks to @colettebronte for the read-through. Enjoy and happy holidays! 🎄

December 20th 

“Thank you,” Benedict clinks his champagne glass against yours, “for everything.”

You blush and look down from his intense blue-eyed gaze, staring instead at the untied bowtie around his collar that seems almost more attractive than when fastened.

“It was nothing,” you demure.

“It was not nothing!” he scoffs, giving you a gentle shoulder bump as you both lean on the high-top table.

“Alright, it was my job then,” you modify, giving him a modest smile as you hotch slightly - beautiful though they are, you cannot wait to take off these high-heels.

“And you are excellent at your job,” he asserts before downing the rest of his champagne and refilling both glasses from the bottle before you. 

He is lingering much longer than you thought he might, long after all his family and all the guests have left. The event was over a while ago, and all around you, the venue staff are clearing tables and stacking chairs.

Tonight was indeed a rousing success. Your first-time event managing the end-of-year fundraising gala for the Bridgerton Family Foundation, they hit a new record amount raised. Standing next to you is the newly minted CEO of that organisation, Benedict Bridgerton, looking far too dashing in his custom-fitted tuxedo. Empathetic and naturally in tune with the needs of others, he is indeed the perfect replacement to run the charitable arm of the family business now that his mother has decided to retire. In previous years, you both took deputy roles - him to his mother, you to your old boss - this was the first year you both stepped up to the plate to run things, and if you do say so yourself, you have both done an excellent job of it. A delightful working partnership built on years of friendship since meeting at university as an exchange student.

“You deserve a long Christmas break after this,” he breezes.

“Going home to the States in a couple of days,” you nod. “I’m both looking forward to it and dreading it in equal measure, to be honest,” you confess, this second glass of champagne acting like a truth serum. You didn't want to or even get the chance to drink earlier, but a little tipple to round off the rewarding night is lovely, especially in present company.

“How come?” he seems genuinely curious, his forehead knitting adorably. Of course, he wouldn't understand; he comes from an idyllic family.

“I am very much the black sheep,” you shrug, twirling a finger absent-mindedly around the rim of your glass. “Being childless, unmarried and single at thirty-three in a midwestern family is unheard of and thus the subject of much ridicule.”

“Wow,” his eyebrows shoot up, “that's…,” he hesitates.

“Judgemental? Parochial? Small-minded?” you supply dryly on his behalf.

“I was going to say traditional… but sure, those work too,” he chuckles.

You giggle a little, then sigh. “So a mixed blessing, really. It's nice to see them all; I just wish they were a bit less them, you know?” you gesture vaguely into the air.

“A boyfriend would really take the heat off?” he queries.

“Hah!” you can’t contain the bubble of amusement at the mere thought. “Chance would be a fine thing. But, yes, that likely would take the edge off the worst of their barbs.” 

“Well, I’m at a loose end,” he comments, seemingly changing the subject. “The family is spread to the four corners of the globe this Christmas. Mum is going to Costa Rica for a retired ladies' trip with Lady D. Don't ask,” he adds amusingly, holding up his hands. “Kate and Ant are taking their kids to Lapland, and my various siblings are travelling or staying with partners. Weirdly, it’ll be our first Christmas apart. At least we will all reunite for New Year's at Aubrey Hall.”

“Aww, that sounds nice,” you offer neutrally.

“What I'm saying, y/n, is…,” he continues slowly as if waiting for the penny to drop, “if you need a fake boyfriend, I am available. It’s the very least I can do after all of this,” he explains, gesturing around the room. “Plus, it might be novel to experience a typical American Christmas,” he shrugs casually.

You can’t help it; you gape at him. Completely floored. The idea is utterly left-of-field and yet so exciting your heart pounds. If there is one downside to working so closely with Benedict these last few months, it has been the exponential growth of your inappropriate feelings for him. He is so sweet and handsome; no one would be immune, frankly. It was bad enough when you were at university together; now, well, it’s slightly lethal. Your mind boggles at him playing the role of a doting boyfriend; your body, however, seems very enthused, a warm flush creeping over your skin at the mere thought.

He chuckles nervously, a likely reaction to your stunned silence. “Listen, it was just a silly suggestion; you don’t have t-” 

“Yes!” you squeak, interrupting and grabbing his jacket cuff boldly when he seems to be withdrawing. “Please,” you add almost as an afterthought, unsure how to thank someone for such a generous offer.

His face breaks out into the most handsome grin.

“Excellent! Then, it's a date!” he exclaims, tilting his glass towards yours again. “Well, a fake date,” he amends with a lopsided grin that makes your stomach flip.

Oh god. What am I letting myself in for?!

___

December 23rd

“Are you sure about this? You can still back out...” you offer, fidgeting in the bag-drop queue at Heathrow three days later. 

“Please. What else am I going to do? Sit around my flat, billy-no-mates, and eat a sad M&S ready meal?! You are literally rescuing me,” he counters, probably exaggerating for your amusement.

Very much following the motto of not looking a gift horse in the mouth, you had texted Benedict your flight details that same night, and he has made it all happen in the hours since. Somehow, he managed to wave the Brigerton magic wand and secure what was probably the last seat on your direct flight two days before Christmas. Unluckily for him, he has to slum it in economy with the rest of the plebs like yourself. He couldn't even get a seat near you; he's stuck down the back, in the middle, near the galley.

“How about we swap seats at least?” you offer, guilt creeping in, looking at your printed boarding pass. Not only is Benedict doing you a favour, but he’s also pretzelling his tall self into an uncomfortable seat. The least you can do is offer him your aisle seat.

“I’ll be fine,” he dismisses, waving a hand and fishing out his passport as you are called to the desk.

“Travelling together?” the pretty, painted lady breezes at you, holding out a perfectly manicured hand to take your passport and ticket. Then you watch her practically melt as she claps eyes on Benedict.

Tsk. Typical.

“Not exactl…” you begin.

“Yes,” he cuts in with a winning smile. “Sadly, we couldn't get seats together, though,” he pouts a touch theatrically.

“Oh! Well, let me see what I can do about that… It is Christmas, after all,” she winks at him conspiratorially, then taps on her keyboard.

A few minutes later, your bags are checked in, and you are upgraded to Premium Economy. The lady was apologetic that you still couldn't get seats together but a row apart instead. You are pretty sure if there was space, the handsome bastard would have gotten you upgraded to business without even trying.

Oh, to be a pretty Bridgerton.

___

Twelve hours later, you are in a taxi, tired but grateful for the additional legroom on the flight, even managing a few hours of light napping. Benedict is similarly sleepy, both of your heads lolling around as the car zips down the road. By the time you reach your family home, it’s evening, but to your body clocks, it's the middle of the night.

As you slide out of the taxi, a long arm wraps around your shoulders, and you startle.

“Best to look convincing from the off,” Benedict mutters as he throws his duffle bag on top of your suitcase and trundles them up the path with his other hand.

You nod and dutifully wrap your arm around his waist over his puffer coat, slightly annoyed at how good it feels, as if your arm belongs there. 

“This is so American it's almost a cliche,” he jests, looking up at your parents' house, holiday string lights twinkling in the dusk.

You giggle at his remark and bump him with your hip, quickly escalating into a friendly tussle. He hauls you into his arms and swings you in front of him.

“What are you doing?” you whisper, your limbic system alive at the feel of him pressed into you even behind heavy coats.

“Just go with it,” he responds with an easy confidence and that dazzling smile. As if in slow motion, his lips descend, and you reel as they lightly brush yours, an explosion behind your ribs at this passing touch.

Over your shoulder, you hear the front door opening and realise it’s for show, for a particular audience. You are grateful for the forethought but completely discombobulated from this partial kiss.

How am I going to survive a week of this?

“Mrs y/l/n, Mr y/l/n,” he calls as you linger in his arms, not wanting to turn around just yet.

“Well, hello there. This must be the famous Mr Bridgerton,” your dad's opening line. “We have heard so very little about you. Before yesterday anyway,” he adds, already twisting the knife in early as you pull up to the porch.

“That may well be because I asked her not to,” Benedict rebuts smoothly, releasing you to give a firm handshake. “I love the element of surprise,” he adds with a smile you have seen him deploy before, a weapon’s grade charm offensive.

Your mother’s face is a picture. “Well, well, we certainly didn't expect someone quite so handsome to accompany our daughter,” she drawls, verging on flirtatious. 

Benedict drapes his arm around your shoulders and nuzzles your hair. “Whyever not? She is simply wonderful,” he sighs, his hot breath tickling your scalp before letting you go again.

Damn, he is good at this.

“Hello, mom, dad…” you greet politely before moving in for a short hug from both.

“Happy holidays, darling. Let's get inside,” your mother fusses.

Within a few minutes, after some casual pleasantries are exchanged as you remove coats, you watch your mother give Benedict a tour of their home, including, to your chagrin, your childhood bedroom, which is a time capsule from your teen years. At least the dog-eared band posters have been taken down. As you drift back to the living room, Christmas music plays from a speaker behind the tree. Your family loves to go all out on the holiday decorating. It does feel festive and cosy, though.

“It will be a full house with all of our kids and their spouses staying tonight. So there are no spare rooms. You are on the sofabed in the den, Mr Bridgerton,” your dad comments, gesturing to the room next door; the message very clear.

“That's fine,” Benedict huffs genially, “and please, call me Ben.” 

“I might actually head to bed now,” you admit over a stifled yawn. “My body thinks it's 2am.”

“Same,” Benedict chimes.

“Oh, you should stay up, try to get into the timezone,” your mother clucks, always with an opinion about how you are not doing things how she would. “Ben has not yet been introduced to Tucker, Travis, Tegan and their spouses. They are all still out at dinner…” she indicates, listing your siblings and looking most perturbed at your decision.

“Tomorrow, Mom,” you assure.

“Alright,” she capitulates with a sigh, mostly when she sees Benedict yawn behind his hand. 

“Goodnight…” you offer to all and go to leave the room, but as you get to the door, Benedict stops you with an arm shooting out.

“Don't I get a goodnight kiss, my love?” he pouts.

At first, you look up at him shocked, then a flick of his eyes over your shoulder makes you realise he is continuing the ruse. 

“Maybe,” you flirt back, jetlag somehow making you daring. An ideal excuse to be coquettish, even though your parents likely can't hear your exchange above the music playing. They can certainly see your body language, though.

“Oh, I see. What do I have to do to earn it?” Benedict plays along, a dangerous smile and a large hand low on your lumbar spine, pulling you into him. 

“Tell me you will miss not sleeping next to me,” you boldly request, a little cheeky smile tugging at your lips to see how far he will let you push this.

A long finger swipes a tendril of hair out of your face and behind your ear, a thumb curling under your chin.

“Every night I'm not sleeping next to you is my misfortune,” he replies, sounding wistful, his eyes seeming to burn with something approaching sincerity. It makes your stomach swoop like you are standing on a cliff edge on a windy day.

“Good answer,” you stumble in acknowledgement, pushing up onto your tip toes, heart in your mouth.

“I do what I can,” he answers against your lips and then draws you into a slow, plush kiss. 

His mouth doesn't open, but it doesn't matter; the hint of wetness on his pursed lips has your body reacting, a charge ripping through your being. A sudden yearning for him to push you against the wall and plunder your mouth with his tongue. When he withdraws, you know your pupils are blown wide, but you are taken aback that his are, too; the dampness on his lip shines in the glow of the Christmas tree. 

Your father pointedly clearing his throat breaks the spell, and you jump apart as if burned.

“Sorry,” you both mumble and Benedict pulls the most adorable ‘oopsie, my bad’ face. 

“Goodnight, y/n,” he says tacitly.

“Goodnight, Ben.”

As you climb the stairs slowly, exhaling the breath it feels like you have been holding since he grabbed your arm, you know that kiss will be replaying in your head for weeks. If he keeps this up, you may well combust. 

This was a fantastically bad idea.

___

December 24th

You awaken on Christmas Eve when it’s still dark outside. A glance at your phone says it’s right after 4:30am. Already knowing you won’t get any more sleep, you throw open your case and grab slippers and a hoodie, deciding to head down to make a coffee.

You almost jump out of your skin when you see a silhouette sitting at the kitchen table.

“Sorry,” Benedict atones as he sees you clutching your chest, “time zones.”

“Same… coffee?”

“Please…”

As you potter around, making a pot as quiet as possible, he scrolls on his phone. You join him once it’s brewing.

“How is the sofa bed?” you ask, wincing guiltily.

“I've slept on worse,” he obfuscates jovially. 

“Sorry, if I’d known there wouldn't be a spare bed, I would have booked a hotel,” you apologise, rubbing your temples.

“No, it’s tradition to stay with family at Christmas,” he rebukes with a smile.

“Thank you again for all this,” you mutter, shoving your hands into your hoodie pockets. “Have you done this fake boyfriend thing before?” your question is only partially in jest.

“No, what makes you say that?” he huffs bemused.

“You, uhh, have been doing an excellent acting job,” you shrug. “Thank you, by the way. I don’t think they quite believe I could land you, but I’d argue you have been very convincing regardless….”

“Don't say that,” he frowns, cutting in. 

“You don’t think they buy it?” concerned things may not be working as well as you believed.

“Not that,” he waves a dismissive hand, “the other thing. Why wouldn’t they believe you could ‘land me’?” he rounds off with a quotation gesture.

You bark a laugh. “Have you seen you?  

“Stop,” he seems genuinely ticked. “That is all shit. I would be lucky to have you,” he mumbles, not meeting your eye, staring out of the French doors into the inky blackness. It won’t be sunrise for another three hours this time of year. “I am lucky, in fact, to have you as a friend,” he adds, his thoughts sounding far away.

“Well, same. I still have no idea how to repay you for all of this…” you admit.

“I already said, none needed. Why would I not choose a little foreign adventure with a good friend when the alternative is Christmas alone?!” he scoffs as the coffee machine beeps.

Unsure quite what to say, you get up to make a cup, knowing without asking how he takes his. Retaking your seat, you pick at the idea again.

“I think we should strategise…” you mutter into your mug.

“About what?”

“The plan. Now you have some inkling of what they are like, maybe we should talk tactics…?” you trail off, not sure even yourself where you are going with this.

“It's simple, isn't it?” he counters, taking a gulp of coffee. “We hold hands, hug and kiss occasionally, you know, act like a couple….” he shrugs as if it's the simplest thing in the world. Maybe it is to him; his heart probably doesn't pound when you so much as touch.

“Okay, well, I guess we can improvise. But let me know if it all gets too much. Send me a secret code or something,” you offer.

“Like a safe word?” he chuckles.

“Something like that,” you allow, trying to mask the heat you feel creeping up your sternum at the very thought.

Just then, his phone vibrates on the table.

“Sorry, it's Ant. I should probably take this,” he apologises, standing up.

You swallow a sip of your coffee, trying not to think too hard about anything, when suddenly he leans over your shoulder from behind, the phone still buzzing in his hand.

“By the way, my safeword is Byron,” he rumbles silkily into your ear. “Not that I’ll ever need it,” he adds, walking away casually while you try to bring your heart rate back to normal.

Dear God, this man is going to kill me.

___

You take your coffee back to bed when Benedict doesn't reappear after a few minutes and end up passing out again for a couple of hours. By the time you are awake again, the house is a hive of noise and activity. You pass Kallie, your oldest brother's wife, in the hallway, and she punches your arm lightly.

“Welcome home, and well fucking done!” she winks, and you frown, confused what she’s talking about. She jerks a thumb over her shoulder. “That delicious slice of Britishness in there,” she elucidates. 

Shit! It just occurs to you that by falling back asleep, you left Benedict alone to fend for himself in the melee of your family. The poor man must be mauled alive by now.

So when you enter the kitchen, the last thing you expect to see is the sight before you. Benedict, with an apron on, tossing American-style pancakes like a pro on the hotplate while your family chatters around him, applauding as he serves up another perfect-looking batch.

“Darling!” he calls when he sees you. “Come here!” he exclaims warmly, holding out his arms.

Unsure what else to do and powerless to resist the opportunity, you walk over and allow yourself to be swept into his arms. He presses a kiss onto your cheek. He smells like butter and syrup, and you want to burrow into him.

“Sorry I left you alone in the lion's den,” you say close to his ear so only he can hear.

He smiles into your hair. “They are fine, honestly; I can handle it,” he assures mutely.

You pull back and swipe a tiny fleck of batter from his face, enjoying the round of his cheekbone as you do. What makes an odd weight land on your ribs is how his pupils dilate fractionally as you lick the dot off your thumb.

“Delicious, Mr Bridgerton,” again, unable to stop yourself from flirting with him now you have the excuse.

Something in him looks almost wild as your gaze locks.

“Get a room!” your brother, Tucker, jeers from the table.

Part of you wants to sass back some version of ‘apparently we’re not allowed’ and ‘I wish’, but all you can do is smile at Benedict as he mirrors your expression.

“More, please, Mr Brid-un,” your youngest nephew toddles over, holding up his plate expectantly.

Benedict finally looks away and ruffles the little kid’s hair. “Certainly, Brandon,” he offers warmly.

“What I find fascinating is how a proper British gentleman knows how to make good old-fashioned American pancakes,” your mother pipes up from her seat at the kitchen island.

“Oh, my nanny was an American,” Benedict waves the spatula as he pours more batter onto the hotplate and begins a new batch.

“Your grandmother was from the colonies?” Travis mocks, feigning outrage.

“Oh no… not that sort. My umm nanny nanny, as in the lady who looked after us as kids,” he explains, looking somewhat sheepish.

“Shhiittttt,” your sister Teegan drawls, looking up from her phone for the first time. “You’re like actual rich, huh?”

“Language Tee!” your mother warns from across the room.

Teegan pulls a face and then turns her attention back to Benedict, awaiting his response.

“Please, can you all not be so… y/l/n,” you cut in, holding up your hands to the gathered family. “For once, can you all just…?” you taper off, hoping they will read between the lines.

“How’d you two meet?” Dean, Teegan’s husband, calls out, ignoring your plea completely.

“We actually met at university many years ago,” Benedict explains, flipping the pancakes as they bubble. “But we started working together last year on various projects, and well, we grew much closer.” 

So far, so truthful.

“Then, well, one memorable day, when we successfully wrapped up a project we had worked on so hard together, I realised she meant so much more to me than a friend,” Benedict continues, sounding so sincere you almost believe it yourself. A tiny flutter in your chest that the project he refers to could be the Gala. “I kept it to myself for a while, but late one night, I couldn't resist, and I confessed my feelings. I am the luckiest man alive because it turns out she felt the same. And, well… here we are,” he concludes, shooting you a look so loaded you forget it's a yarn for a few seconds.

“Friends-to-lovers, I stan,” Claire, your other sister-in-law, comments. She always has her head stuck in some romance book.

As Benedict serves the next batch, the focus of the room is pulled to your nieces and nephews as they overload their pancakes with toppings, and you are grateful to be out of the glare of the family spotlight temporarily.

“How did I do?” Benedict murmurs into your ear as he sidles up next to you, wrapping an arm around your back. There's a tinge of pride in his voice. He knows he has them eating out the palm of his hand, and fuck if it isn't so attractive.

“I should tip you…” you joke, not wanting to give away quite how flustered you are.

“I accept payment in kisses,” he breathes, his smouldering stare sliding down to your lips as you crane your head to look up at him. 

It's only a few minutes later, as you grab a pancake from the stack that you realise he didn't say that at volume anyone else could hear… it was purely for you. And you have no earthly idea what to do with that thought.

___

The rest of Christmas Eve passes with your family’s usual rituals, with Benedict beside you, playing the doting boyfriend to perfection. Each brush of his makes your adrenaline spike—a divine torture. 

While dinner is cooking in the afternoon, your parents usher most of you out of the house for a walk in the bracing cold to build up an appetite. And so you stroll, Benedict’s gloved hand in yours.

“So Ben, is everyone in London not married with kids, or is it only my sister who can't seem to figure it out despite her old age?” your sister Teegan digs as she pushes the buggy next to you.

“Well, we are a similar age, and I'm not married with kids either,” he points out breezily.

“Yeah, but…” she halts, realising there is no response she can think of. “Wait, why don't you have kids yet? Don’t you want a family? I thought you said you had lots of brothers and sisters?”

“I do come from a big family, yes. And I suppose one day, yes, I do want kids of my own,” he adds, seemingly honest as you listen intently, your heartbeat in your ears, “but I feel no rush yet.”

“So you’re not knocking this one up anytime soon then?” your brother Tucker stirs, checking your shoulder roughly from the other side.

You can't help but feel a blush darken your cheeks at that and refuse to look up at Benedict. You open your mouth to tell Tucker to shut up, but Benedict cuts across you.

“If anyone has come close to being someone I would consider having kids with, it's your sister,” he admits casually, as if talking about the weather. But for you, it feels like you are back on that proverbial cliff edge about to dive over, heart racing. It takes every fibre of your being to keep walking and acting naturally, grateful for the gloves between your joined hands; not sure you could handle his skin touching yours as he says such things.

“Ooooooo,” Tucker singsongs, “going to the chapel, and they’re gonna get mar...”

“Cut it out!” you grouse.

He peels a laugh, then jogs on ahead to catch up with Dean.

“I’m sorry about that,” your apology hushed as you keep walking, Teegan falling behind you to deal with one of her kids' tantrums.

“Why? It's an inevitable question when you meet your other half’s family,” he points out, squeezing your hand reassuringly as you wander as a pair.

“Yes, but… it's a bit much, considering they just met you hours ago. They are intentionally stirring the pot. Trying to scare you off,” you frown, realising what they are doing as you say it aloud.

Benedict stops walking, and it makes you halt, too. “Nothing could scare me off,” he assures, his face soft with understanding as he cups your jaw. His cold, damp glove is a balm to your flushed, embarrassed face.

“Right,” you nod, “cos this is all fake…” you add quietly, trying to hide the defeated tone.

“Anyone who knows how great you are would not be scared off by the idea of a future with you,” Benedict says soothingly, a thumb stroking your cheekbone.

“Well, when you meet a candidate who fits that bill, send them over to me, yeah?” you quip brittly as you look off into the distance, unable to meet his hazy, sincere eyes.

His response is interrupted by your niece tugging on his coat.

“Uncle Ben, can I sit on your shoulders? Please? Daddy already has Brandon, and my feet are so tired,” she whines in that dramatic way only little ones do.

Benedict laughs and releases you. “Certainly, Sofia,” he smiles as he hauls her onto his shoulders, uncaring of the mess her little boots smear onto his coat as he does so.

“Faster! Go faster!” she orders, and genially, Benedict obeys, moving ahead and breaking into a light jog as she giggles loudly and holds onto his chin.

You try to ignore the flutter in your chest at the sight of him with a kid on his shoulders, as if he were born to do so.

This was such a mistake…

___

“When are you moving home, y/n?”

You knew this was likely coming. The question your mum has to ask every time you visit. And every year, your answer is the same.

“I don't think I will be, Mom,” you explain calmly as you pass the plate of peas to your sister, not wanting to look at Benedict, who sits opposite you at the long table. “I love London. It feels like home,” you add with a shrug.

“Yes, but this living abroad thing is supposed to be a phase—a young person thing. You are mid-thirties now. It's time you settled down,” she frowns.

“I am settled,” you reply neutrally, “I have a place of my own that I love.”

“Yes, but an apartment, sorry ‘flat’,” she self-corrects sarcastically, “that’s not a real home. A home is a house with a garden in a safe town with good schools for your children,” she lectures.

This line of discussion used to annoy and rile you up, but you have become weary of it over the years. The rest of your family is tucking into their food but listening smugly, having towed the traditional family line.

“I think home can be many things,” Benedict pipes up from across the table. “A home is about where you feel safe and secure, surely Mrs y/l/n?”

“Well, yes…” your mother falters, slightly taken aback by his interruption but still charmed by his effortless congeniality.

“Then I would say your daughter’s home is London,” he smiles disarmingly. “You should see her there; I encourage you to visit sometime. She has a home she has made beautiful. She has many friends, and she is amazing at her job. She is happy. I, for one, cannot imagine her anywhere else.”

Again, you can feel your heart beating at his sweet words, even knowing they are all for show; it's lovely that someone has your back for once, defending your choices.

“But what of the schools, Mr Bridgerton?” your dad piles in, “I have heard nightmares of the school system in the inner cities, in this country and yours,” he shudders.

“My family has always gone to a superb prep school in Chelsea. I see no reason why our children could not do the same when the time comes,” Benedict responds with a winning smile.

You almost drop the corn casserole at that line.

Plonking it heavily on the table and taking a deep breath, you finally pluck the courage to look over at him. Looking back at you is a playful smile and a wink. And suddenly, you know what he is doing. It likely appears genuine to others, but you know him too well; you know all his facial tells. He is doing this for sport. To entertain you. The kaleidoscope of emotions you feel is near exhausting, relief mixed with a tang of disappointment that it's all for show.

“Well, that's wonderful news, Benedict,” your mother squeaks. “I cannot wait to hear more once you are engaged,” never failing to find an opportunity to take a dig.

“You will be the first to hear, I promise,” he smiles winningly and takes a bite of food. “This is delicious, by the way,” he adds, “I hope you will share the recipe with me, seeing as we will likely be family one day...”

And just like that, he expertly manoeuvres your mother onto the only topic she loves more than marriage - cooking. As if he could intuit how to steer the conversation. Relieved, you sit back and finally take a deep breath, then a bite of your admittedly delicious plate. You are even grateful he manages to distract them long enough that there are no jibes about your weight.

Maybe this wasn't such a mistake…

___

A few hours later, with the little ones tucked up in bed, the adults gather around the tree with the fireplace roaring and the festive music softly playing. It's time for gift exchange, a family tradition away from the hubbub of Christmas morning with the focus on the children ripping through all the gifts Santa left for them.

You are enjoying the buzz a second large glass of wine provides when the focus turns to you. Benedict sits beside you and slides a hand onto your knee. Still, your body reacts, but you attempt to act as if it doesn't make your blood pump hard in your head.

“Benedict, we didn't know you were coming, so I'm sorry we have no gift for you to open,” your mother says sheepishly, “and y/n, we have done as you always ask; we have sent you a gift card over email,” she explains, “which makes me sad as you have no gift to unwrap….”

“That's fine, Mom, thank you. And don't worry, I don't need a gift,” you assure, taking another swig.

“Actually….” Benedict clears his throat, “I have a gift for my girlfriend if that is okay?”

You look agog at him.

“But… I didn't get you anything,” you splutter, even as he moves his hand from you and reaches behind his back, revealing a small navy velvet box.

“Don't worry. It's nothing really, just something small,” Benedict assures, even as you can feel everyone’s eyes on you as you reluctantly let him place it in your hands.

Slowly, you pull at the tail of the lovely soft gold ribbon until it relents. With your heart in your mouth, you snap open the box. Nestled in more navy velvet is a tiny, beautiful crystal penguin, your favourite animal.

“Ben…” you are lost for all other words, tears prickling the corners of your eyes.

“I remember you loved the larger one my mum had on her desk,” he explains lowly as you stare transfixed by all the facets catching the twinkling light. “Every time we had a meeting, you would stare at it or play with it. So I knew I had to get you one too, for your desk… or wherever you want to put it,” he modifies sweetly.

You can't help it - the swell of emotions makes you throw your arms around him as you clutch the precious item. It's like he has managed to distil everything you could want from a Christmas gift - something personal, tailored to you, nothing too extravagant but small, elegant and beautiful. And that he had the forethought to bring it across the Atlantic with him makes your heart burst even more. He is possibly the best friend you could ever have. You fervently wish he was so much more.

“I can't believe you remember that,” you mumble. “This is perfect and beautiful. Thank you, Ben, thank you so much.”

“Merry Christmas, my love,” he says into your hair at a volume you know is designed to be heard by the room.

“Merry Christmas,” you return quieter, only for him.

Vaguely, you hear your mother moving on to hand a gift to another, perhaps embarrassed by the display of affection between you. Grateful that the family focus seems to have shifted to someone else, you go to pull away from the embrace, but Benedict draws you tighter into him. 

“Lovers don't let go so quickly,” he whispers. “Now I'm going to kiss you again if that is okay…”

Your tummy flips. “Okay…” you barely struggle out the word.

Then his hand is on your cheek, and time seems to slow like treacle; his eyes burn into yours as he moves in, then flutter closed as his lips meet yours. Again, it is like a rollercoaster, a thrilling plunge as his lips move over yours. It's like the previous night, respectful with a closed mouth but so sweet and promising, so much more a whole ripple runs through your body. You need more, so much more, desperate to climb into his lap and demand a real kiss, audience be damned.  When you part, he tilts his forehead against yours and smiles gently, licking his lip as if savouring the taste.

“I'm glad you like it. The gift that is,” he clarifies, a sweet mumble.

You giggle. “I love it, Ben, thank you. I'm sorry I didn't get you anything; I feel terrible.”

“Being here with you is gift enough,” he assures in a voice that melts your insides, which you assume is for the audience.

My god, this man will be the death of me.

The rest of the evening passes in a pleasant fog of wine, your siblings holding court and telling stories as you listen, feeling the weight of Benedict’s hand again on your leg as he sips on a whiskey. Once again, you feel the creeping of jetlag and decide to turn in around 10pm. You give Benedict a peck on the cheek before he can draw you into another confounding kiss and make your escape upstairs with a glass of eggnog and your book.

As you settle into bed, you try not to let your thoughts spiral as you catch sight of the crystal penguin in its box. Instead, you tell yourself he is a good friend and rich; it's likely nothing to him, and not to read too much into it.

___

December 25th 

At some point, you drift off to sleep, book in hand, the timezone still catching you out. You only realise it when you are awoken suddenly around 2am by a knock on your door.

“Come in,” you croak, sitting up and rubbing your eyes to adjust to the light; you had fallen asleep with the bedside lamp on low while reading.

The door opens ajar, and Benedict’s handsome face pops in. “I saw your light on…” he says softly, “just wanted to check on you.”

You put your book aside, pull the covers around your neck and feel an odd flutter as he closes the door behind him. He looks cosy in long tartan pyjama bottoms and a soft dark t-shirt.

“I'm sure your dad would kill me if he knew I were here,” he jests as he hovers a few feet away.

“Come sit,” you pat the bed next to you, even as you feel strange about him being here, dead of night on Christmas Day. 

He nods gratefully and perches on the edge of your bed. It's a full-size mattress, bigger than a twin, but not a double bed. You can feel his weight tugging the bedding tight over your thighs.

“Thank you again for my gift, truly,” you gesture to the box on your bedside table.

“I had to. I couldn't think of anything more… you...” Benedict smiles that demure smile with downcast eyes that always makes you want to shake him and tell him to stop looking so fucking adorable. Or mount him. Or both. You have to bite your lip to stop blurting out your errant thoughts.

“But still to buy me such a wonderful gift and put up with my family… I mean… you deserve a medal,” you shrug.

A hand clamps onto your knee through the bedding, but it still surprises you. 

“Stop it,” he gruffs. “I'm going to need you to stop. Seriously. I chose to come here. It's been fun. Something different. Yes, your family is a bit… intense, but everyone’s is. Each has its own special blend of crazy. You’ve seen the Bridgerton brand of dysfunctional up close,” he points out, knowing without saying more how much you have watched them bicker over the years.

“But you’ve said all those lovely things, made up all these amazing believable stories…” you argue back weakly.

“Every single thing I have said to your family has been the truth,” he responds solemnly.

You replay a few choice record-scratch moments in your head. “But what about the stuff about me being the person you could see yourself having kids with and where these imaginary kids would go to school…” you point out, wincing as you do.

“I told no lies,” he answers each syllable enunciated slowly, staring you down.

It feels like your whole world tilts when he utters those words.

“What are you saying?�� you query, breathier than you mean to sound but needing him to spell it out.

He sighs, but a mischievous grin twitches the corner of his mouth. “You are much smarter than this; don't be obtuse now, y/n,” he rumbles, something in the challenging way he says it catches a fire behind your ribs.

“Ben…” you warn, so many contradictory feelings at once.

“You are all the things I said and more, and you must know how amazing you are,” he offers softly as you feel your eyes misting.

“Please don't,” your last vestige of resistance, still not believing what he says can possibly be true, too close to a festive miracle. Part of you thinks that at any moment, you will wake up alone and bereft.

His fingertips brush your cheek, and you inhale sharply and look up to see him inches from your face.

“Fine, if you don't somehow believe my words, maybe you’ll believe my deeds…”

It's the last few words out of his mouth before his lips meet yours.

This time, it's not for an audience; it's just for the two of you, and it almost stops your heart. A hesitant, soft, sweet brush that becomes more as he leans in and deepens the kiss. His lips part yours as your mind grinds to a halt, tentatively following his lead, kissing him back… the catalyst, the permission he needs. A large hand rounds behind your head and pulls you forward. Suddenly, it's a tidal wave, his tongue rolling greedily over yours, becoming hungry, urgent, desperate, your body awash with chemicals, scarcely able to believe Benedict, the star of every one of your spicy dreams, is here in your childhood bedroom, kissing the very life out of you in the early hours of Christmas Day.

“Lay down,” he murmurs into your skin as his lips glide over your cheek, and you follow his order without thought, shuffling down obediently until you lie flat and stare up at him transfixed. 

It’s as if he’s taken your disbelief as a challenge to prove how very real this is. With one hand, he tosses aside the covers and crawls over you until he is engulfing you, surrounding you with his scent that makes your mouth water. His lips are hot on your neck as his hands map your body, lingering in places you are self-conscious about. 

“Do you have any idea how sexy you are?” he sighs as if disputing your internal monologue, his breath ghosting warm over your collarbone. 

“Stop…” you demure, wriggling under him, feeling bashful.

“No..” his crooked smile is lethal as his head pops up from worrying your throat with a little edge of his teeth. His hand skates your clothed breast, and on instinct, you push up into it, your nipple hardening as the heat of his palm seeps through your nightshirt. “Please take off your top,” he implores, his mouth finding your lips again. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve dreamt of touching your naked body.”

“I can’t believe this…” you mutter, shaky, confounded that it could be true—the man you desire desiring you back just as wantonly. He lowers his body between your legs, surging his hips so you feel something insistent inside his pyjamas.

“Now, do you believe me?” he dusks into your ear.

“Benedict…” falls from your lips as an excited shudder.

“Say my name again, please,” he huffs right against your cheekbone, pinning you under him with his pelvis.

“Benedict,” you repeat, revelling in the effect it seems to have on him.

It gives you the courage to whip off your top. The noise he makes as he realises you are naked underneath it is a beeline right between your legs.

“Shh,” you hush, giggling, a rush through your veins, not wanting anyone to disturb this, as he slides his lips down over your skin towards your breasts.

“I cannot,” he remarks gleefully,  “not with such a bounty beneath me.” 

His lips clamp onto your left nipple, sucking and swirling his tongue with an intensity that steals the breath from your lungs.

“Might wake fam…” you stumble out, impressed you can even do that.

He pulls up, his biceps in tense relief as he balances on his fists curled on either side of your waist. “Then lock your damn door,” he growls in a way that has you clenching.

“No lock…” you squeak, wishing beyond belief you had one.

“Shit, really?” he sighs, leaning back down to kiss over your sternum. “I’m not sure I can be quiet; I’ve wanted this for too long…”

You go to query that statement, but he moves to your other breast and does the same, so the only sound you are capable of is a guttural moan.

“Shh,” he hushes you back cheekily, tilting his head up from your chest, eyes sparkling and face so achingly handsome you still can barely believe this is happening,

“We really do have to be quiet…” you point out reluctantly.

“I know,” he sighs into your breastbone, dropping a soft kiss there. “I want to tell you so many things….” 

“Whisper them to me…” you beseech, running your fingers through his lush, thick head of hair, tilting your breast back up to his mouth.

He smirks and catches your unsubtle hint, once again using his talented mouth to make you shudder under him. He runs a finger down your centre line to your belly. 

“Your body is perfect,” he sighs. You go to protest, but he shoots you a disapproving look, so you bite back your words. “I could get lost for hours tracing your lines,” he hums, his featherlight touch tickling as it crosses under your belly button, making you giggle. “Hmm, a little ticklish too,” he sounds utterly captivated by that discovery, throwing you a very troublesome expression.

“Don't use it against me…” you warn, knowing he will ignore you, a fizzy feeling at this playfulness.

“Oh, I just might…” he chuckles as he runs his tongue lower over your torso, a hot, damp line that leaves fluttering in his wake. “I could do this all night…your skin is so soft,” he purrs, inhaling deeply, nuzzling his nose above the line of your pyjama bottoms. “You always smell so fantastic,” he sighs, using his teeth to tug on the ribbon. 

You’ve never had someone be this vocal during intimacy. It makes you feel reassured but also slightly bewildered by just how aroused you are getting, Benedict’s resonant voice skittering compliments over your skin, making you embarrassingly wet. Your hands greedily pull at his t-shirt, hoping he will get the hint.

“If you want something from me, you have to say it,” he teases as he switches to using his fingers to undo the bow on your pyjamas. 

“Please take off your top, Ben,” you mewl, even as your heart pounds at the idea you will soon be naked under him.

“I will,” he promises, “in a minute…” 

As if sensing your apprehension about removing your last item of clothing, he leaves it in place, shuffling lower and stretching your legs wide with his shoulders. You gasp loudly as his mouth, hot through the thin cotton protecting your modesty, sucks insistently over your slit. A large hand curling around your hip to stop you canting off the bed. Your clit throbs, and your pussy leaks copiously down your bottom.

“Fuck I can tell how wet you are even through this fabric,” he stutters.

“I'm sorry...” you squirm, embarrassed.

He surges upright, grabs your hands from around his head and cages them on the mattress beside your hips.

“Let's get two things very clear,” his voice stern but achingly seductive. “One, your body is incredible, and you should know by now how much I desire you. Two, if you ever apologise again for being turned on, I will be annoyed. Do you know how proud I am? That I can do this to you? How absolutely rigid this makes me?” rutting his hard cock against your left calf to prove his point. “I want your desire running down to your knees. I want you mindless and trembling with need for me.” 

“O-okay,” you stumble out, entranced. This filthy poetry and feralness is beyond anything you could imagine him capable of. You have seen hints of his menacing potential, but full force, it’s breathtaking.

“Good,” he smiles crookedly, releasing your hands. “Now lift your hips so I can get you properly naked,” the slightly bossy rejoinder really working for you.

Mutely, you do as bidden, his fingertips trailing fire down your hips as he tugs the material over your thighs, impatiently pulling them from around your ankles and tossing them over his shoulder, his gaze locked onto your body. He groans a curse, and you again find yourself clenching around nothing at his untamed response.

Whispering his name is a reflex, your fingers carding again into his hair as he lowers his mouth and suckles the skin of your hip before slowly, almost torturously, winding his way lower towards your centre. Every place he touches feels alive and fluttering, him whispering reassurance and praise into your flesh, like a sensual requiem that catches your breath. By the time he trails his nose down the crease where your thigh meets your body, you are panting, eyes screwed shut, head tilted back, anticipation knotting your guts.

“Look at me,” he orders softly, his face framed by your thighs as you gulp and look down the plane of your body to him. “Don’t look away; I want to see your eyes when I do this,” his breath hot on your slit.

He unfurls his tongue and ploughs through your wet flesh, making your toes and fingers curl. You have to bite your lip and curse behind your teeth, the sensation overwhelming, his eye flashing fire in his blown pupils at your bodily reaction. You hiss loudly, needing to call out so bad your lungs ache. You twist your pillow to bite down on a corner but keep your eyes on him as told. He chuckles pridefully, the sensation shooting up your pelvis, then keeps going. Teasing around your clit with a lathing action that is nothing like you've had before, devouring, using his whole face, strong arms wrapping your thighs in a vice-like grip, held lewdly open It feels so good that within moments you are panting. Still, part of you is tense, scared about your ability to be silent.

“Relax,” he breathes, shaking your hip gently in his grip, sensing the tension in your being. 

“I'm worried I won't be able to stay quiet enough,” you admit, muffled around the pillowcase, looking away to stare at the ceiling as he busses a soft kiss onto your inner thigh.  

“One moment…” he withdraws and hops off the bed. You watch, vaguely dazed, as he drags a heavy chair against the door and wedges it under the handle so it can’t be opened. “There, now we should get some warning.”.

When he turns back around, you instinctively pull the cover over yourself to hide your naked body, even as you can’t help but stare at the tent in his pyjama bottoms, mouth watering at visions of what lies beneath.

“Don’t do that,” he reproaches softly, “show yourself to me.”

Reluctantly, you push the sheet away again, squirming slightly as his eyes roam your body lasciviously as he prowls over to you, stripping off his t-shirt as he does. His naked torso is perfect, toned and honed, and as he crawls over you, you are hypnotised by the view. 

“You are so beautiful,” he sighs, dropping a kiss on the tip of your nose, the scent of your arousal on his face. “Never cover yourself in front of me; you should be proud of your body.”

You’ve never had someone say that before, and your insides are molten, a need for him that burns so bright, an inferno purely of his making.

“Tell me what you want,” he proposes, lacing your fingers with his, kissing your fingertips, then sucking them into his mouth, looking at you expectantly as you stutter at his warm, wet, talented tongue lathing over your fingertips.

“Everything…” you blurt out honestly. “Anything. This is all wonderful… Can I return the favour for you?” you deflect, brushing your other hand tentatively over his bulge as he hovers over you.

“Yes, you bloody can,” he growls, releasing your fingers from his lips as his eyes flash dark. But he grabs your hand away from his cock, calming his tone. “But not tonight. Another time…”

“Another time?” you echo, temporarily stunned by the idea this isn't a never-to-be-repeated Christmas miracle.

“Yes. Why would you think this a one-time thing?” his brow knits as he drops a kiss on your cheek. “What about my actions and words tonight suggest that?”

“Nothing, I suppose,” you concede, “just history…”

He cups your jaw. “The past is the past. This is now and me,” he states clearly, running a thumb tenderly over your lip. “I will do whatever you want. If you tell me to leave this room right now, I will, and I won't think any less of you…”

“Don't you dare,” it's a snarl from some dark recess deep inside you, your legs twining around his to lock him in place.

“There she is…” he chuckles, that lopsided grin taking over his face before kissing a line down your throat. “Now tell me what you want, y/n.”

“I want you inside me,” you confess, running your hands over his naked back, loving the play of muscles under warm skin.

He groans at your words, an edge of teeth on your jugular, making you ripen, feel daring. If he wants to know just how wild he makes you, you are going to show it. You grab his face and drag it up until he is over you again, his pupils blown and his hair a mess from your tugging.

“Fuck me, right now, Ben,” you demand hotly, pushing your body up into his and delving a hand inside the back of his pyjamas to grab his shapely rear, keen for him to be as naked as you.

He snarls and pins your arms beside your head on the pillow.

“Do you have any condoms?” he breathes hot in your ear.

“Ah shit,” your head thumps back, chastising yourself for not planning better. But then this seemed like such an unlikely outcome, frankly miraculous; why on earth would you have?

“Good thing I came prepared then,” he teases, releasing his grip to produce a small packet from the pocket of his pyjamas.

“You….” you scold, equal parts impressed and irked, running your fingers around his waistband. 

“It was a sincere wish, not an expected conclusion,” he smiles bashfully, his lips meeting yours for a searing kiss as he slips off the last of his clothing.

A shiver runs down your spine as he bears you into the mattress, naked, his rigid cock brandishing the inside of your thigh. He keeps kissing you over and over until your lips feel tingly from the slight hint of stubble around his. You wrap all of your limbs around him, craving for your bodies to be melded.

When he pushes up slightly to rip open the packet, you glance down and see, nestled in a patch of trimmed hair, a sizeable but very pretty cock. You can’t resist reaching out and touching it, loving the feel of steely strength under the silky texture; his soft groan is like music to your ears. Sighing his name, you are impatient for him to be inside you, already knowing it will feel wonderful, part of you craving skin on skin. 

Again he wears that demure smile, looking up at you through his lashes, so you take over, eagerly rolling the condom onto that pretty cock and then pulling him down on top of you forcefully.

“I like it when you are just a little bossy,” he confesses into your mouth, one hand pulling the cover over you both, then sliding between your bodies to guide himself towards you.

“I like it when you are a little bossy,” you counter, but then all your words die out as his cock slides insistently into you.

Your eyes roll back as he inches inside, so much heat and girth, your body stretching to accommodate his invasion. You both seem to utter a curse, and your hands grasp each other tight.

“You feel amazing…” he murmurs as he bottoms out, the feeling of fullness so perfect.

You whisper your agreement as he withdraws and surges back in, your feet curling around his legs, toes sliding into the light fuzz on the back of his calves. There are soft sighs, both of you trying to muffle your sounds as he sets a languid pace, your body rolling with his; each push has your walls clinging to him, your breasts squashing against his broad chest. What strikes you most as you move together is that nothing is awkward; it all feels natural, predestined, an easy intimacy that suggests months or even years together rather than a first time.

He feels so good moving inside you, so perfect; all you can do is cling to him, trying to convey with your eyes what you dare not voice. Afraid that if you open your mouth, you will release the noises you are fighting to hold in, blazing in your lungs. His stare is blistering, too, a blush across his face that speaks of desire and denied words, his neck corded, a pulse beating wildly in his prominent vein, a sheen gathering on his forehead as he pushes into you over and over.

His breath is hot on your temple as he shifts, dropping a shoulder and reaching down, looping your leg into the crook of his arm, the sheet pulling taut around your knee as he does. He hits a new spot deep inside with his next thrust, which has you digging your nails into his back and whimpering behind your sealed lips. It's as if he is doing his damnedest to break you, make you cry out, and it's the best torture you have ever known.

You huff out of your nose as he does the same, both sounding winded, as he picks up the pace, your teenage bed starting to squeak in protest.

“Shhh,” you plead with the furniture as much as him.

He stops moving, buried in you, and reaches above, stuffing a throw pillow between the bedframe and the wall, his arms flexing deliciously right over your face, the scent of his body spiking your need. It makes you grasp your thighs around his hips and flip him over, landing with a bounce, him still inside as you are on top of him now.

“Wow, that was…” he looks both astounded and exhilarated.

“Surprising?” you supply with a triumphant crooked smile of your own, your hands tracing the lines of his pectorals.

“Wonderful,” he clarifies, his hands grasping your hips as you start to ride him. The way he looks up at you, with dark pupils and a bitten lip, makes you fearless. Starting a leisurely pace, you place your hands over his on your hips, fingers lacing as his eyes slip from yours briefly, transfixed by his cock disappearing into you.

He groans low, undulating beneath you, pushing up as you sink down, his eyes back to your face, a prideful expression as your mouth drops open, his cock nudging deeper than ever before, almost a dull ache that you need, moving faster now, chasing that hit with every downstroke. You can feel your body flushing hot from the exertion, your thigh muscles burning slightly. Still, you don't waver, too addicted to that feeling of being so utterly filled, his cock dragging all the right places inside that switch off your brain and forget everything, every doubt, every uncertainty about yourself and your body, and just chase pleasure. 

“My god, you are beautiful,” he gasps, “I love to see you like this, so untamed, so free…” 

The compliments just drip like whispered jewels from his tongue as he guides your joined hands up to your breasts and grabs them with a force that fans the heavy, hot feeling in your pelvis, his knuckles snagging your sensitive buds. It makes you want to ride him forever, your clit throbbing each time you sink down, tugging temptingly but not enough to quite tip you over. The clawing sensation of being so close makes you drag your fingernails down his torso and clench around his cock. He stutters and looks at you hungrily, possessed, and then, before you know it, the room tilts as he rolls you back under him, again never leaving your body.

He withdraws and thrusts back into you with such force the wind is knocked out of your lungs, the pillow muffling the thud against the wall. Something in the atmosphere shifts; an urgency, like the heat that has been simmering, is now boiling over for both of you. He grabs your knees and encourages you to wrap your legs high around his torso, tilting your pelvis to a new angle, and when he moves, you cry loudly behind your lips, his body glancing at your clit.

He hushes you with a prideful chuckle. So you grab one of his hands and place it over your mouth, knowing you cannot trust yourself to stay quiet now. The hitch in his breath as you gag yourself with his palm is like poetry. 

Oh, Ben, you have no idea what I may want from you one day…

Your errant thoughts run to your darker fantasies, things you’ve never done before but are intrigued by, and in every one of them, it's him. Treating you just a little rough while you beg for more.

“Whatever you are thinking,” he gusts into your ear, moving faster now, “I hope it involves me.”

You nod, feeling his fingers flex across your face.

“Good, I can't wait for you to tell me,” he rasps lowly.

A bead of sweat forms along his hairline as the whole bed rocks now, the trapped pillow muffling the sound, his punishing pace pushing you ever closer to orgasm, pleasure spiking with each thrust. His hand grips your jaw; something about that pressure and the sweet words he murmurs is a contradiction of primal and tender. Sex before has always been one or the other for you; blended together, it's a potent elixir.

He takes you hard, without mercy, and you silently beg him with your eyes for just that; his cock feels so hot and rigid, pounding into you as your cries are muffled by his tangy palm. The onslaught is perfect, and you are teetering on the edge just as he pleads roughly with you to come with him. So you let yourself go, your mind blanks out, your body bucking under his violently. Shuddering convulsions fanning out from your pussy, gripping tight around him and racing through every ounce of your being, muscles taut, eyes screwed shut, a scream trapped in your lungs. He stills above you, his hand releasing your mouth as that bead of sweat splashes down onto your nose. He curls around you, coming hard, huffing gulps of air and twitching almost violently with tiny aftershocks.

After a pause filled with panted breaths and strokes on overheated skin, he carefully withdraws and discards the condom.

“Merry Christmas,” you giggle into his neck as you collapse together.

He hauls you into his embrace, tucking you under his arm and kissing your dewy forehead. 

“Merry Christmas indeed,” his answer ragged, wrapped in a warm laugh.

And that is how you both drift off - exhausted, sated bodies entwined, damp skin pressed together.

___

A few hours later, you are awakened by overexcited nieces and nephews thundering down the stairs, eager to see what Santa has brought them. It takes a moment to recall what transpired overnight, a telltale delicious residual pang between your legs, followed by the realisation you are alone. Part of you relieved Benedict has snuck back to the safety of the den, but a larger part sad not to be waking up in his arms. Sighing, you roll over and spy a jaunty cartoon penguin Christmas card propped up on your bedside table. Upon opening, you beam, immediately recognising the beautiful, looped handwriting.

Y/n 

Thank you for the most magical night. Leaving this bed might be the hardest thing I have ever had to do. I can’t think of anywhere else I would rather be on Christmas Day or, indeed, any other day of the year. But I don't want your father to be angry with me. I have a lifetime to disappoint him… if you will let me. 

I can't wait to see you downstairs.

Merry Christmas,

B xx

P.S. I may have just booked a hotel for the rest of our stay. I think we deserve some privacy ;)

You giggle, elated; the exciting prospect of nights in a hotel and the pledge of a lifetime ahead makes your stomach leap—this could be the start of something. You momentarily clutch the card to your chest, revelling in your joy, before burying it into your book for safekeeping and going to take a shower.

When you descend the stairs, out of the picture window, you see most of the family gathered on the street with the kids circling on their new bikes. But as you round into the living room, a sight melts your heart. Benedict sitting cross-legged on the floor with Sofia, a novelty Santa hat perched on his head, surrounded by shreds of wrapping paper, festive music playing in the background as he puts batteries in some loud plastic toy that will no doubt drive everyone up the wall for the rest of the day. 

She whoops with delight as the toy noisily springs to life and runs away to play with it. That's when he looks up and sees you watching from the doorway, his face lighting up. Slowly, he gets to his feet, and then you gasp as he wordlessly pulls you into his arms, brings your hand to his face and kisses your knuckles before starting to waltz.

“I didn't know you could dance like this, Mr Bridgerton,” you tease, impressed, allowing him to lead you around, dodging haphazard toys and boxes.

“Oh, there are so many, many things you have yet to learn about me, Ms y/l/n,” he proclaims alluringly as Frank Sinatra croons from the speaker.

��� It's that time of year  When the world falls in love Every song you hear seems to say Merry Christmas May your New Year's dreams come true. ♫

“I hope you don't have plans for New Year's,” he whispers into your hair as he brings you to a halt. “I would very much like you to accompany me to Aubrey Hall. As my girlfriend,” he explains, grinning. “Not fake,” he adds drolly after a pause.

You laugh, feeling lightheaded and giddy, but just as you go to answer, you are both interrupted by a little hand tugging on his jeans. 

“Uncle Ben, you are my favouritist,” Sofia declares solemnly. “Will you visit every Christmas?”

Meeting your gaze, his expression contains multitudes. 

“It would be my greatest honour, Sofia,” he replies to her, even though his eyes never stray from yours.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies

Lights divider by @/saradika [x]

[chrisevansonly]

𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐞’ 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 (𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐬 𝐣𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐢𝐜 4)

𝐋𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐬 𝐇𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: lewis doesn’t know what to think when he comes home to see roscoe dressed as santa…but he knows just who’s behind it

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none, very fluffy!!

𝐚/𝐧: welcome to fic number 4!! this little drabble event has been so fun so far, I FUCKING LOVE CHRISTMAS!!

🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄

“Roscoe stay…don’t move baby..”

You smiled fixing the little santa hat on his head gently as the bulldog grumbled at your antics, which only made you laugh more.

“I know, I know but just a bit longer…”

Taking your phone in your hand you begun to take a few photos, the lights on the Christmas tree behind you only adding more of that holiday feeling to every picture.

“What is going on here?”

At the sound of your husbands voice you turned, Lewis leaning against the doorframe to the living room, watching you with curious eyes, the smallest smile tugging at his lips

“Tell him Roscoe, say mumma dressed me up to take pictures for a holiday card!”

The dog only made a growl like noise back as he shook the hat off, eliciting a laugh from the British driver as he pushed off the door frame.

“Hmm torturing him then my love?”

Feigning fake hurt you pouted, turning towards Lewis

“Now that’s just mean baby…he likes it!”

“He does?”

You nodded, Lewis smiling softly at the cute little look on your face before cradling your head in his hands, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips sweetly

“I think he looks cute, even if you’re torturing him” he stated, thumbs rubbing at the apples of your cheeks

“I’m not torturing him…he’s our child, i’m allowed to force him into cute christmas hats and clothes!”

“For now…”

A twinge of warmth spread through your face at the comment Lewis had made, a secret only the two of you knew so far, in a few months time you’d be welcoming another addition to your family. Something the two of you had been waiting for, for as long as you both could remember.

“Yeah..for now baby..which means it’s elf hat time Roscoe!”

Lewis broke out into a laugh watching as the bulldog took off towards the kitchen, you following after him as the elf hat jingled in your hands. These memories as your last Christmas just the two of you would be so special to him, knowing next time you’d have a little bundle of joy to join in on the festivities.

Maybe this would mean Roscoe could finally stop wearing all the funny holiday hats…well just maybe.

[bokutosbiceps]

‘tis the season | one piece

eustass kid/monkey d luffy/roronoa zoro/trafalgar d water law/usopp/vinsmoke sanji x gn!reader | fluff | ~2.1k words

warnings: some suggestive/18+ themes but nothing explicit

a/n: welcome to my xmas special for the one piece boys !! OKAY before anyone comes @ me for not choosing a food related activity for luffy, pls know that y’all would not be able to decorate shit. he would eat all of the ingredients and/or you would have to lock him out of the kitchen. some of these are loooooooooong. pls enjoy 🎄

18+ MDNI | under the cut for length

eustass kid and the kid pirates will make a competition out of chopping down a christmas tree to put on the bow of their ship. it happens every single year, and kid didn’t used to participate, but when he started dating you, he wanted to be the one to provide you with a tree to decorate and admire.

you always enjoyed watching kid get riled up over something as small as a christmas tree, though. killer, a man with taste, would always find the perfect tree, then kid would lay his claim to it, boasting about how he had an eye for things like this.

this year, it was different, though. kid seemed to be more calm about it than usual and it made the whole crew restless until they reached the island where they'd always look for the trees.

kid’s face stretched into a calm grin at seeing the island approaching, remaining still till the ship was docked and the plank was thrown onto land.

“you comin’ with me?” kid asks, snaking a hand around your waist while he watches the rest of the kid pirates disperse on the island.

“of course!” you happily jump onto kid’s back and point out all the different trees you see and like. kid just shakes his head at you and keeps moving, knowing exactly what he's looking for.

he reaches the edge of the forest and sets you down, shrugging off his coat and grabbing an axe from his belt. it takes him one swing each to fell two small trees.

“will you take those back to the ship, doll? make em look nice.” kid asks, a mischievous smile still settled onto his lips. you don't ask questions and tug the two small trees back to the ship to start decorating them. they likely won't be in the running for the trees the crew will vote on to keep so you figure they’ll look nice to keep in the corners of the captain’s quarters.

one by one, the kid pirates start to make their way back to the ship. and one by one, they trim and prune their trees to make em look especially nice and voteable.

“where’s kid?” killer settles next to you on the port side, looking out at the forest. you're leaning on the railing and watching the tree line for any speck of red.

“i dunno! he told me to bring back those runt trees to decorate but i haven't seen him since.”

you speak too soon, because not even ten seconds later, you see kid emerge from the tree line, his metal arm gripping what looks to be a twenty foot tall tree.  

“i think we all know which one we're keepin'!” kid spreads his arms and looks around at his crew. “right? captain’s orders!” kid grins and gestures toward his tree. the rest of the crew doesn't even argue, they just start stripping the trees of their branches to use as tinder for later.

“so? impressed?” kid approaches you, looking proud as ever.

“bigger isn't always better, kid.” you tease, lightly punching him on the shoulder. he scoops you up into his arms and presses a kiss to your chin.

“oh, you know you love it when it's bigger, baby.”

monkey d luffy is an expert at building snow men because he tries his best to make it look like him! every single year, as soon as there’s enough snow on the ground, he’ll crack his knuckles and start rolling snow into big spheres. the very first time he did this, he made three huge balls of snow and ended up making something resembling more of a snowy caterpillar than an actual human. but he’s learned from his mistakes and is now a master at his craft.

“luffy, can you please put on some gloves? you’re gonna get frostbite!” you call out to him as you watch him roll snow around on the deck. his cheeks and nose are red and he’s sniffling as he shapes the snow into spheres, a big grin on his face despite the freezing temperatures.

“does rubber even freeze?” luffy muses, thinking he’s out of earshot from you and tapping his chin cutely. you smile and shake your head.

“yes, it does!” you say, knowing full well that it doesn’t. but you're hoping your boyfriend might listen to your logic nonetheless. “so that means you can, too!” 

“eh, i’ll be fine! i need to be able to feel the snow between my fingertips, anyways!” luffy grins at you and gives you a shivering thumbs up. “you can’t look till i’m done, okay? and no peeking!”

you raise your hands in surrender and join robin and nami in the warm library upstairs while you wait for luffy to finish up with his masterpiece. 

almost an hour later, luffy bursts into the library with an excited ready! and wraps his arms around you, pulling you up and out of the warmth and into the cold. once you're close enough to the deck, he releases you and moves his hands over your eyes.

“m’kay, one…two…surprise!” luffy removes his hands from your face and smiles brightly at you as he watches you take in his snow artwork.

there are two snow people, one with a straw hat, and another with features similar to yours. you smile and hug yourself, shivering slightly. luffy notices and drapes himself over your shoulders, effectively warming you up and hearing your cheeks up from both his embrace and his sweet gesture.

“it’s us!” he says proudly, pointing to the way that he situated the twig hands of each snow person to make it look like they’re holding hands. you giggle at his thoughtfulness and kiss the tip of his very red and very cold and very cute nose. 

roronoa zoro allows his eyes to follow you around the aquarium bar below the sunny’s deck as you put the finishing touches on two mugs of warm apple cider you made while zoro’s been napping by the fireplace. you smile and settle down next to zoro, sitting cross legged and sipping your drink while you use zoro’s chest to prop up your book.

zoro props himself up on one of his elbows and you move your book back into your lap, not taking your eyes off of the words. zoro takes a long swig of the cider, humming in enjoyment at the way the sweet notes of the rum you'd spiked the cider with hit his tongue.

“what're you doin’?” zoro asks, peering up at you with a slight frown on his face and placing his now empty mug behind him.

“what does it look like?” you answer, turning a page of your book and giving zoro a teasing smile. he just grunts and plucks the book out of your fingers. “zoro, what—”

zoro quickly and carefully, so as to not spill your mug of warm cider, grabs you by the hips and places you on top of his chest. you purse your lips and glare down at your boyfriend, whose eyes are now closed and lips curled into quiet satisfaction.

you decide not to say anything and instead rest your cheek against zoro’s chest. he brings his hands up to rub his fingers over your spine, stopping at the small of your back.

“attagirl.” 

trafalgar d water law decides that his least favorite thing in the world to do is going to a christmas market on christmas eve. who could choose a worse day to go to a christmas market? bepo. and since the bear was the one who had begged law to allow them to dock at the sea bound christmas market, law had reluctantly agreed. bepo had made a pretty good argument after all.

“maybe you could find something for y/n-chan while we’re there?” bepo had said, hoping to sweeten the deal with possibly finding something nice for you. you’d only been with law for a little less than a year, so this is your first holiday season as a couple, and law had never really thought of whether or not you’d like something for the holidays.

law is dragged around the market, stopping only at stalls where he notices cute little things that he thinks you might like. he shoves his pride down his own throat to hold up various little knick knacks with a do you think they'd like something like this? to bepo.

law, with a little help from bepo, eventually decides on a tiny little mouse soldier statue, complete with the year and name of the island. when he holds it out to you, his hat covering his eyes and his eyes aimed at the snow piled around where you stood, all you can do is giggle.

you take the little statue from law, turn it over in your hands once, then twice, and smile. law feels like he's going to explode.

“well…do you…?”

“do i what?” you inch toward law, ducking your head to try and get a glimpse of his face, which is still hidden beneath his hat.

law frowns, turning his head to continue avoiding eye contact with you, and clears his throat. “do you like it?”

you look back down at the statue that your boyfriend so carefully and thoughtfully picked out for you. you tilt your head up and quickly flick the brim of law’s hat, tilting it up as well.

“hmm, no.” you say, noticing the way law’s shoulders tense up. you press a kiss intertwined with a smile to his lips before speaking again. “i love it.”

usopp looks forward to the holidays each year because that means he’ll be decorating the sunny with christmas lights till it rivals a fully lit city on the sea!

all day, usopp is crawling around in the rafters, stringing up lights and hanging his homemade decorations on the masts. he had enlisted you to pass him various nails and push pins and tools to help him hang up the decorations, but you'd been playing catch with him the whole time.

usopp is an incredibly intelligent man, but he's clumsy. hours of missteps and slips and whoops had your blood pressure and heart rate through the roof and you don't know how much more you can take. 

usopp’s smile is wide as he plugs the two ends of the string lights together, his eyes shining in the reflection of the newly decorated Thousand Sunny.

the ship is ablaze with light, and you can't help but smile yourself. the masts glow in a soft and golden light, the snow on the deck is illuminated by the reflection of small and twinkling star decorations that usopp made just for the crow’s nest. there are ornaments and weaves of pine hanging off of every place possible, giving the ship nice red and green hues.

usopp comes up and wraps his arms around you from behind, giving you a gentle and affectionate squeeze.

“pretty, right? now all the pirates in the grand line will see the great captain usopp’s ship from miles away!” usopp makes a grand sweeping gesture with his hand and turns to grin at you proudly.

you lean up to press a kiss to his cheek. “looks amazing, captain usopp.”

vinsmoke sanji closes off the kitchen on christmas eve, after christmas eve dinner, to allow for some privacy while the two of you decorate christmas cookies for the rest of the crew. sanji usually doesn't let anyone else in the crew help out in the kitchen, unless it's you. he likes feeling close to you, his favorite person, when he's in his favorite place, while he's doing his favorite thing.

“no competition, here, okay?” sanji’s pressed up against your back and his hands are on your shoulders when he skims a kiss to the nape of your neck. "let's just have a nice time together, hm?"

he smiles at you before he sets to decorating the cookies with you, jazz playing softly through the radio and sanji making easy conversation or praising your decorations.

you nudge sanji’s shoulder with your own and nod your head down at the cookie you're holding. sanji’s eyes light up when he sees your initials written in blue icing, separated by a pink heart. 

“y/n-chan, my love!” sanji cries, throwing his arms around your neck and hugging you tightly. he cups your face and kisses you slowly, ignoring the creaking of the kitchen door and light footsteps creeping closer to the two of you. 

you open your eyes just in time to see luffy swipe the cookie you had just shown sanji and make a run for it. sanji follows your eyes and stares at luffy’s back in horror.

you look up to tell sanji that it's no big deal, you can just decorate another one, but sanji is already running after luffy; he's desperate to save the cookie you had decorated with your names on it. 

“luffy, get the hell back here so i can put your ass down the garbage disposal!” 

taglist: @usoppsstar | @kingofthe-egirls | @anemptypuddingcup | @pileofmush | @luffysprincess | lemme know if you wanna be added to my one piece taglist ✨

[lawsvalentine]

Under The Mistletoe • OP Men HCs •

Fem!reader

Characters: Monster trio, Usopp, Law

CW: none just humor and fluff 💕

Cee’s Note: MERRY CHRISTMAS MY LOVELIES🎄 my Christmas gift to you all ❤️ hope y’all enjoy and happy holidays

Luffy

At first, he didn’t know what a mistletoe was 💀

He tried to eat it 🧍🏽‍♀️

“Blehhhh!”

“Oh that’s not…”

Slightly disappointed it wasn’t edible 😭

After explaining to him what it means, Luffy’s signature grin spread across his face and he practically smothered your face with kisses

Zoro

Doesn’t get the point of the mistletoe and was not about to let a plant tell him what to do sgdhjd

“I don’t need a damn plant to tell me when to kiss you, I do what I want”

And with that he tossed it to the side and carried you to the bedroom

He sure showed that plant 💀

Sanji

He is about to abuse the power of the mistletoe sgdhjd

Thinks it’s the greatest creation in the world 😭

“Sanji, this is the 10th time in just the last hour”

“Please, my love, just one more” 🥺

How can you say no to that face

Usopp

Planned the whole thing shdjd

Pretends to be all shocked when you two are under it

“Well would ya look at that! How’d that get there?”😅

Insists it’s “bad luck” if you don’t give him a kiss

Law

When you pointed out the mistletoe above you two, Law’s cheeks flushed red

he silently cursed whoever hung it up in the first place

“Fine, just a peck”

Acts all upset, but secretly wants to kiss you again

[shekiko]

Women's Snowflake Print Long Sleeve Round Neck Christmas Sweater sold by SO Harajuku . Shop more products from SO Harajuku on Storenvy, the home of independent small businesses all over the world.

[aparttimewriter]

STARSTRUCK: part thirteen

charles leclerc x singer reader x lando norris

summary: charles and y/n are in happy couple bliss, while y/n and lando test out if being friends can work between them

yourusername added to their story

viewed by landonorris and 23,567 others

yourusername

liked by reneerapp, charles_leclerc, landonorris and 934,567 others

yourusername: so i have been keeping a little secret… my new album life support is now available for pre order before it’s release april 10 !

view all 40,577 comments

reneerapp: so proud of my baby !!

y/nstans: ahhhh literally screaming so excited

user567: our girl has been busy

charles_leclerc: literally blown away with how talented you are beautiful 💕

leclercstans: this album better be playing all year in the ferrari garage

teamferrari: how many songs about charles !!

landonorris: surely i get sent a free copy??

—yourusername: i am making you buy it double the price just for this comment

yourusername

liked by y/nsister, arthur_leclerc, charles_leclerc and 845,678 others

tagged: charles_leclerc arthur_leclerc

yourusername: hope everyone had an amazing Christmas 🎄

view all 23,567 comments

arthur_leclerc: still mad about you breaking my gingerbread house

—yourusername: it was an accident !

y/nsister: tell murphy his auntie misses him

teamleclerc: y/n and charles spending chrismas together i’m losing it

y/nstanaccount: screaming at the second photo!

charles_leclerc: love you ❤️

—yourusername: love you even more ❤️

charlesboxbox: they really are our mum and dad !

yourusername added to their story

viewed by charles_lecler and 32,566 others

📍London, United Kingdom 🇬🇧

liked by maxfewtrell, landonorris, riabish and 745,455 others

yourusername: thanks so much @team_quadrant for the best weekend! can’t wait for everyone to see my channel appearance xx

view all 22,667 comments

papayanorris: y/n in a quadrant video !! it’s going to be iconic

maxfewtrell: i would like everyone to know that y/n won all those stuff toys, and forced lando and i to carry them around

—yourusername: don’t spread lies to my fans !

mclarengirls: i love charles and y/n but lando and her just make sense when they are together

landonorris: still mad that you took the baby yoda 🥲

—yourusername: i let you keep the sloth !

ferrarigirl: charles come get your girl away from lando please

yourusername

liked by oliviarodrigo, charles_leclerc, reneerapp and 756,467 others

yourusername: a couple of behind the scenes shots of me while working on life support xx

view all 35,678 comments

leclercgirl: did anyone else see that photo of y/n out with lando a few days ago ?? really unsure how i feel about it

oliviarodrigo: sooo exciting for this release!!

mariaxxx: life support is 100% being my anthem for this year

ferraricharles: really wonder how charles feels about the time his girl is spending with lando

y/nfanaccount; really sick of these comments about y/n and lando, apparently the two of them can’t just be friends

— papayanorris: just friends ?? from the way lando looks at her, he definitely has bigger feelings then that

charles_leclerc : i am so proud of all the hard work, you put into this album ❤️

charlesboxbox: lando 100% has a things for y/n even if she doesn’t notice it

y/nstans: can we please get y/n pictured with charles, so i can be happy again

tagged list: @urfavnoirette @formulaal @maplesyrupsainz @celestialend @janeholt3 @starz4me1 @landossainz @k4marina @partyinpitlane @nessacarty1 @ssprayberrythings @1655clean @belennasif @basicchelsea @eviethetheatrefreak @champagneproblems17 @noneofyourfbusinessworld

[lalacliffthorne]

when there's snow in the middle of the night, it means luck.

(I smell snow. also, this is us manifesting a white christmas time, babes, so - fingers crossed *squeezes eyes shut and crunches nose in concentration* 🎄)

Quietly closing the bathroom door behind me, I rubbed a hand over my face, trudging through the dark hall towards Azriel's bedroom door. The only light was falling in from the living room and the kitchen, and only after staring at it for a second did I realize that it looked strangely bright for three in the morning.

Feeling my brows scrunch in sleep muddled confusion, I slowly came to a halt a few feet away from the bedroom where I had left Azriel under the covers, his arm only slipping away from me when I had pressed a sleepy kiss onto his cheek.

Blinking and raising my head, my eyes found the windows on the other side of the living room, and my breath hitched.

Outside, huge white flocks silently sailed through the air, landing on the balcony that was already covered in a thick blanket of snow.

My lips parted as something in my chest soared, a beaming smile slowly spreading over my face as I slipped into the living room, quietly hurrying towards the windows and feeling my heart rise in a wild flutter when I pressed my nose against the window and stared at the big white snowflakes that were slowly falling outside, covering the street and cars and houses in a thick white layer that reflected the streetlights.

There was a soft, hoarse mutter of my name somewhere behind me, and when I quickly looked over my shoulder, beaming and sleep forgotten as my heart skipped and fluttered, Azriel appeared in the doorway, hair tousled and eyes filled with sleep when he raised his head and stilled a little. His gaze moved over the sight outside, and I saw the moment the haze of sleep slowly lifted from his mind, his shoulders straightening as his eyes trailed after the snowflakes.

A twinkle slowly spread through his iris, and Azriel looked at me. Then he lightly raised a brow.

My heart skipped high, and I started beaming.

A waft of icy cold, crispy air hit my face when I pulled open the door, and my breath hitched, my lips parting as I slowly stepped out onto the sidewalk.

The snow had silenced the city like a thick blanket, muffling the little noise of the night. My pyjama pants, tucked into furlined boots, did little to hold off the cold, but I barely noticed it as I carefully stepped through the pristine, thick layer of snow that covered the cobblestone before raising my head, feeling my heart rising against my ribs as I stared up into the dark night sky, thick snowflakes silently sailing through the golden light of the streetlamps.

There was the sound of snow crunching behind me, and when I looked over my shoulder, Azriel stepped out of the door, and something toppled in my chest. His hair was tousled from sleep and sticking out from under his beanie as he raised his head to squint against the snow, and there was the shadow of a crease visible in his cheek. Just like me, he had just thrown on a thick jacket and a scarf, his dark pyjama pants tucked into his black boots, and even though it should've looked ridiculous, something suddenly did flips in my chest as my gaze flickered over him.

Raising my head again, I blinked when a snowflake landed on my lashes and felt a wide smile spread over my face as, even with the cold nipping at my skin, warm giddiness filled my chest, growing with every second.

Turning, I spread my arms and held my face up towards the sky, a giggle building in my chest as I felt snowflakes land on my cheeks, melting slowly into my skin.

Opening my eyes, I stared up into the gently swirling snow and felt my heart swell when I slowly turned on the spot, beaming at the flakes silently sailing to the ground and the thick white layer of snow covering the whole street.

Grinning, I looked over my shoulder, and my heart got caught in my throat.

Azriel was staring at me, snowflakes caught in his hair and melting on his cheeks. In the golden light of the street lamps his eyes glowed, and he looked a little like he'd forgotten how to breathe.

"What?" I felt heat bleed into my cheeks, crunching my nose when a snowflake landed on the tip of it, and Azriel blinked, the corner of his lips slowly tipping upwards. Then he moved towards me, the snow crunching under his boots, and my breath hitched when I tipped my head back slightly to look up at him as he stopped in front of me, so close that our chests touched.

Azriel's gaze dragged over my face, and I distantly wondered if his heart also turned over at the sight of flushed cheeks and snowflakes caught in lashes.

The soft crease next to Azriel's lips deepend, and he raised a hand to carefully brush some snow from my hat. His fingers, warm and rough, brushed against my cheek, then they hooked under my chin, and Azriel dipped his head and pressed his cold, soft lips onto mine.

My breath caught, and I reached out to fist the front of his jacket in my ice cold fingers as heat washed through me. My heart rose in a wild flutter, and Azriel's lips curved against mine. Then he slipped his hands to the back of my neck, tilting my head back and kissing me deeper, and a quiet sound built in the back of my throat as I stretched and kissed back.

Azriel groaned softly and moved closer, until his chest pressed into mine and I had to cling to his sides to not stumble back, the kiss slowly shifting from gentle to feverish, his tongue sliding over mine before his teeth sank softly into my bottom lip, and I dug my fingers into his jacket and pressed closer, my heart tumbling -

"Aw, look at them."

I jumped and quickly pulled back, and Azriel breathed a sigh and rolled his eyes.

Cassian was leaning against the doorway, grinning widely, his pyjama pants stuffed into his boots, a hat pulled haphazardly over his head and his puffer jacket making him look twice as broad as usual. Rhys was standing next to him, his hair a tousled mess, likely because he had misplaced his beanie again, tired eyes twinkling a little when he sent me a feline smirk.

Azriel scowled and turned to face them, and I buried my hands in my pockets and crunched my nose sheepishly.

"Did we wake you?"

"No, love, we just randomly both decided to wake up at three a.m. because it felt like a good decision." Rhys stepped down onto the sidewalk and squinted into the sky, lips twitching, and I huffed.

"Ignore him, he's just grumpy because you interrupted his beauty sleep." Cassian jumped down the step and stuck out his tongue, catching a few snowflakes and sending me a wink.

"Well, you could have stayed in bed." I raised my brows innocently. Azriel shifted beside me, his arm brushing against my back as he slowly reached towards the hood of the car behind me.

"And miss this?" Rhys grinned widely and stared at the street covered in a thick blanket of snow. "Are you joking?"

Azriel's elbow brushed against my back, and I discreetly shifted my weight, blocking the view of his hand behind me.

"Though if I am going to be inevitably sleep deprived tomorrow, I will be blaming the two of y-"

A snowball hit the side of his head, exploding into a cloud of twinkling crystals, and Rhys blinked while Cassian snorted and started laughing, head tipping back and shoulders shaking.

Rhys slowly turned his head, his violet eyes narrowing, and Azriel returned his stare. Then one corner of his lips ticked up lightly.

Rhys' nose twitched.

"I was going to be civil about this but,", lazily reaching out and scooping snow off the seat of a bike chained to a lamp post, he raised his brows, "if this is the way you want to play -"

A snowball hit my shoulder, dousing me in white powdery snow, and opening my mouth in disbelief, I slowly raised my head.

Cassian smirked and winked at me. "Sweet cheeks."

"You're dead." I reached out to grab a handful snow off the car's roof. "Completely, and absolutely -"

A snowball hit Azriel's chest, Rhys snorted a laugh and tipped his head back, and I tossed the ball in my hand, nearly knocking Cassian's beanie off his head.

Cassian blinked, and slowly, his face split into a broad grin. Then he raised his brows at me. "Run."

I snorted a giggle and bolted.

Giggles and deep laughter started filling the street, muffled by the sound of the snow sailing from the dark sky and thickening the white blanket, drowning the noise. I darted behind a car, kicking up clouds of white glittering snow behind me, and just for a second caught a glimpse at Azriel, grinning widely, his cheeks creasing and eyes crinkling as he dodged a snowball Rhys threw his way, a deep laugh breaking from his throat that caused something in my chest to tip over.

Then arms grabbed me, and I jumped and squeaked; deep laughter vibrated in my back, and I was lifted off the ground, my feet kicking uselessly. A big heap of snow was dumped over my head, and I slumped, glowering at the cold tricking over my neck.

Damn it.

It was almost four a.m. when we trudged back into the flat, soaked and tired, cheeks pink and icy, bodies hot and limbs freezing.

Half an hour later, I was curled up back next to Azriel, my hair dried haphazardly, in fresh pyjamas and shivering tiredly as Az dragged me into his chest, his warm body curling around me and fingers twining with mine as he buried his nose at my shoulder and breathed out slowly. I could feel the remnants of a smile lingering on his face, in the curve of his lips and the barely there dimple in his cheek, and my heart hopped tiredly against my ribs as I stared towards the window, my eyes becoming heavier and heavier as something warm slowly pulsed under my ribs.

Through a crack in the curtains, I watched the snow slowly sailing through the air.

@azrielshadows1nger @waytoomanyteenagefeels @secret-ly-here @knmendiola @luvmoo @azriels-mate2 @bookishbroadwaybishh @maybe-a-winchester @stayinglow-exploringworlds @harrystylesfan2686 @icey--stars @ssmay123 @ailyr92