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perlelune · 7 months

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Training Wheels | Coriolanus Snow | iii.

Your mother's macabre work never appealed to you as you always preferred the comfort of your books, but when her apprentice takes a special interest in you, your safe, quiet world is flipped upside down.

Warnings: DUB-CON, NON-CON, Gaul!Reader, Shy Reader, Manipulation, Parental Neglect, Drinking, Peer Pressure, Hazing, University set, Loss of Virginity, Dumbification, Insecurities, Abusive Relationship, Degradation, Suicide Attempt

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

“So what’s your deal?” Festus Creed asks out of the blue.

Your mouth opens in shock, a nervous laugh slipping out. “My deal?”

A mocking sneer twists his features. “Yeah, Coriolanus kept trying to get you to eat with us but you were being weird about it. If you hate us, just say so.”

While some snigger at the table, Coriolanus stares daggers at him. The mirth instantly vanishes from Festus’ face.

Clemensia bumps her elbow into his rib, chiding him, “Festus, come on,”

“I don’t…hate anyone,” you defend, your voice hardly above a whisper.

Clemensia flashes you a reassuring smile.

“Of course, you don’t. Coriolanus said you’re very sweet.”

Livia rolls her eyes.

“Ugh, whatever. Can we get back to discussing the Yuletide Ball?”

Surprise flutters through you. The name bears vague familiarity. It can be found in the archives detailing the history of the Capitol University. But it’d since long become a frivolity amidst concerns such as quelling the uprisings in the Districts. What’s a students’ dance in the face of war and famine?

“The Yuletide Ball? I thought this was an abolished tradition…I mean since the war.”

Excitement illuminates Livia’s face.

“We’re bringing back the tradition this year, thanks to Coriolanus here. He convinced the new dean.”

Coriolanus lowers his head in apparent humbleness.

“I just made a few good points and he couldn’t refuse me,” he shares. He turns to you, blue eyes sparkling. “I’m pretty persuasive when I need to be.” A chill dances through you at his low, suggestive tone.

To your relief, his attention switches to the rest of the table.

“It’s important to not let District scum ruin our way of life. Traditions must return.”

Livia smirks. “Spoken like a student body president.”

Coriolanus waves a dismissive hand but a hint of smugness lingers in his tone as he says, “Please, elections are only in a month.”

“And it’s obvious you’ll win,” Clemensia states.

He gives a light shrug.

“We shall see.”

Clemensia pivots to you.

“Ivy, Liv and I are on the Ball committee,” she preens, her face brightening. “You could join us if you want.”

You lick your lips. “I don’t know if I’d find the time with midterms coming up soon…”

Coriolanus’ fingertips graze your arm as he offers, “You should do it, angel. It’d be a good way to expand your social circle.”

“You mean her nonexistent circle,” Festus gibes.

The blond’s jaw clenches.

“Talk to her like that again and see what happens, Creed.”

Festus cowers, nervousness flickering on his face. He clears his throat.

“Sorry,” he says to you.

“It’s fine.”

Coriolanus’ fingers latch around your wrist as his steely gaze cuts into Festus.

“No, it’s not fine,” he articulates.

Undisturbed by the altercation between the boys, Clemensia prattles on about the ball.

“We meet up every Saturday morning. We’re working on winter-themed decorations right now. It’ll be so fun. It takes forever to do though.” She looks at you with emphasis. “An extra set of hands would be really welcome.”

“Clemensia…”

“Call me Clemmie,” she interrupts. “All my friends do.”

Friends? You study her hand clasped around yours. The concept is a little foreign to you. You also ponder why someone like Clemensia, with her perfect silky mane and smooth, blemish-free face would want to befriend you. She is the girl everyone gravitates towards. Charismatic, smart and nice to boot. And you might as well be a fly on a wall, ignored on the best days.

You are so stunned that it takes a shamefully long time for the words to fall back on your tongue.

“Clemmie, I’m usually busy on Saturday.”

“Oh.” She deflates, her hold on your hand loosening. “I get it. Sorry I asked.”

The excitement on her face plummets. Immediately, you feel terrible. You’ve never missed a single Saturday of studying, using that time to break down your more complicated courses of the week. But Clemmie looks crestfallen.

Perhaps, this one time, you can adjust your plans a little. One Saturday won’t make a difference in the entire year.

“But…I can try to free up some time,” you offer.

She perks up with your response.

“Great. We’ll be expecting you then.”

Lunch then proceeds, the table resuming the lively debate they were having before you showed up. Festus maintains facts about his family’s role in the reconstruction after the war while Clemensia rolls her eyes. They go back and forth and you observe them, slightly fascinated by the exchange. It’s such a rare occurrence for you to be around others that you soak every bit of their interaction. You get the inkling this happens a lot between them, them ruffling each other’s feathers. Ivy and Livia get wrapped in their own secret conversation you don’t catch a single word of. Meanwhile, Coriolanus watches all of them, taking a bite of the food on his plate every once in a while. The way he eats is slow, nonchalant, almost like he couldn’t care less what’s on his plate. Even if he doesn’t interject at any point, he looks right at home at this table. Unlike you. You recline into silence, letting every minute fly by as you wait for lunch to be over. When it finally is, relief surges inside you.

You mumble a quick goodbye and gather your things. Clemensia beams and waves at you while the others barely acknowledge your departure.

You head for the hallways, trying not to allow your mind to linger on the strange, uncomfortable lunch. Still, your mind swirls. You curse yourself for every blunder and awkward moment. You told him you don’t belong, that you’re an outsider, and always will be. It’s painfully obvious. From the way you dress, talk, carry yourself, you have nothing in common with girls like Clemensia or Livia. There’s a vast chasm between you and them. He should have listened. It astounds you that you even let yourself get roped into joining Clemensia’s committee thing. Though perhaps that won’t be too much of a hassle. You’ll show up to keep your word, then sink back into your rigid study routine.

Coriolanus’ deep voice, a sound you’re now oddly familiar with, erupts behind you.

“Let me carry those for you,” he says, swiping the books in your arms before you can protest. He falls in pace with you, a gentle expression decorating his handsome face.

You frown, the uncanny emptiness of your arms swelling your discomfort.

“You don’t have to-”

“I insist,” he interrupts, chuckling lightly when you try to reach for your books and he dodges you with ease. Your shoulders sag. Your strides hasten, an urgency limning your steps now.

Coriolanus meets no issue with your escalating cadence. He easily keeps up with you, a subtle hint of mirth lurking in his cobalt gaze.

“It wasn’t too much, was it?” he inquires. “I know they can be a lot but they’re all good people. I promise.”

A myriad of words weigh heavy on your tongue but you diplomatically swallow each, settling for a safe, innocuous remark.

“Clemmie was nice.”

The corners of the blond’s lips quirk skyward.

“I told you she was.”

The statement hovers between the two of you for a while. Clemensia seems nice indeed. The rest of his friend group…perhaps a little less so. Possibly a bit more cutthroat and self-absorbed. Though you surmise it is a requirement to be a member of Panem’s elite.

No other word is traded between you and him as you make your way to the lecture hall.

“This is me,” you announce.

You turn to Coriolanus, hands stretching towards your books. He makes no move to give them back. Your forehead creases.

He gives you a sluggish once-over before offering, “What if I drove you back home after your classes?”

You nibble your bottom lip, dismayed by his proposition. You’ve caught glimpses of his fancy new car, as you’re sure most have at the University. As heir apparent to the Plinth fortune, he gets to spend money as he likes.

“I usually walk. It’s okay.”

He gets a little closer. “Come on, angel. Just let me do something nice for you.”

You shrink until your back hits the wall, stunned when Coriolanus follows each of your steps.

“My last lecture is…Professor Bellweather tends to ramble,” you mumble, his proximity unnerving you. “I don’t…I don’t know when he’ll be done.”

He licks his lips.

“I’ll just wait for you, angel.”

He utters the words like it’s obvious. You gawk at him. It takes you a few minutes to retrieve your speech.

You scratch your arm, your frown accentuating.

“You really don’t have to. Like I said, walking home is fine.”

The gaze trained on your form sharpens.

“And I’m offering to take you home so you don’t have to exert yourself.” He bends over you, invading the already insufficient space between the two of you. “Has a friend never done something like that for you?”

“N-No,” you admit.

His tone’s heavy with suggestion as he rasps, “So let me be your first then, angel.”

Your heart stumbles inside your chest.

“I’m gonna be late for class,” you blurt out, attempting to brush past him.

Coriolanus’ hand darts out, swiftly cinching around your wrist to stop you from leaving.

“I still don’t have an answer,” Coriolanus says.

You glance from his hand, tight around your wrist, to his determined gaze. Your throat goes dry.

“Okay, you can d-drive me back home.”

He releases your wrist and returns your books, a smile ghosting over his lips.

“Wonderful. I’ll come get you later, angel.”

Clutching your books against your chest, you watch him glide away.

As promised, Coriolanus is waiting for you when you exit from your last class. You don’t even think to hide your shock as you find the blond leaning against the wall. A smirk unfans on his lips, your reaction seeming to amuse him.

He doesn’t say much to you as you walk side by side and head to his car. When you’re outside, he surprises you by opening the passenger door for you before you can even lift a hand.

“T-Thanks,” you stammer. You plop down on the plush seat. The leather smells new and expensive.

Your nerves thrum as he takes the driver’s seat and starts the car. You’ve never been alone in a car with a boy before. Uneasy, you let your eyes roam outside the window. The Capitol’s high buildings blur past you rapidly.

You’re lost in your thoughts when you notice the prickling sensation over your flesh, The burning, unwavering weight of Coriolanus Snow’s scrutiny.

Your head whirls.

Bashful words quake through your lips.

“Do I have something on my face?” Your hands reach to touch it, just in case.

He chuckles.

“No,” he replies, shrugging. “It’s a nice face that’s all.”

The casual compliment sends a wave of heat through your body.

“Can you drive?” he asks, curiosity lighting his features.

You shake your head. Getting your license has never been a priority. Besides, it’s only a thirty minute walk to get to the University. You don’t mind it, often using that time to sneak in some reading.

“No.”

“I could drive you if you like,” he offers, his gaze holding yours. “Anywhere you want to go.”

Your cheeks warm. “I’m okay.”

Coriolanus nods, his focus shifting back to the road.

“You always say that…” He hums low in his throat. “I’m just not sure I believe it, angel.”

You’re so nervous the entire drive that you don’t even notice when he arrives at your house. You stare at him, mouth agape. You haven’t given him a single instruction on how to get there.

“You know where I live?”

As he opens the door for you, Coriolanus simply replies, “You told me earlier.”

Your brows furrow. You don’t remember telling him but his tone harbors no doubt. You rummage through your brain, seeking the moment. Nothing comes up and you grow confused.

You blink up at him.

“I-I did?”

“Yes, you did, angel.” He snorts as if your line of questioning is beyond ludicrous. “How else would I know?” He slams the door of the car as you rise. “Besides…Dr. Gaul is my mentor. Of course, I know where she lives.”

You nod. That makes sense and it didn’t even occur to you.

“I…”

He cocks his head. “What?”

You fidget beneath his stare, discomfort flaring in the pit of your stomach.

“Nothing. Thanks for driving me home.”

He flashes you a wide smile.

“My pleasure. See you soon, angel.”

He starts the car and drives away. You don’t feel quite at ease until his car’s gone from view, heading towards the Corso.

Walter zooms across the room as soon as you enter the large apartment. Your eyes wander about. As usual, the place is empty besides you and Walter. Mother rarely spends any time here nowadays, her work occupying all of her time.

Walter rubs his furry head against your ankle, twirling around you as he meows. He then stands on his hind legs and starts gently raking his claws across your leg. A way for him to demand that you pet him. A small smile tugging your lips, you pick him up. The orange ball of fur purrs, curling against your chest as you carry him in your arms. You make your way to the kitchen and pour a mix of leftover meat and fish in his bowl.

You set him down on the floor. His tail wiggles as he hops to his food.

You crouch next to him.

“You wouldn’t believe what happened today, Walter,” you say while giving gentle pets to his back. “I was invited to their table.” The orange cat pauses his eating to stare up at you blankly. “Yes. Theirs,” you repeat as if he could understand you. He gives a long meow before focusing on his bowl again. You sigh. “I know. I thought the same thing.”

Once Walter’s emptied his bowl, you pick him up again and make your way to the living room.

You collapse on the couch.

“And then…Coriolanus Snow drove me home. Yes, the Coriolanus Snow. I didn’t even think he knew I existed.”

For a while, you remain on the couch, stroking Walter’s fur as he sits on your lap. His tail whips the air, his eyes closing as you pet him. His soft rumble of content reverberates against your belly, amplifying when your fingers drag behind his pointed white ears. You lean back, a blanket of peace settling over you.

Walter’s not just a strange-looking cat, he’s also a rescue…from your mother’s experiments. A kitten mutt with mismatched eyes, one blue and one yellow, his mushed, wrinkled face gives him a passing resemblance to a rodent. Pets like him are a rarity in today’s world as most creatures such as him were eaten during the First Rebellion.

Your mother finds him appalling. In her eyes, he is a failed experiment. Like you. Perhaps it’s why you have such kinship with the creature. You still recall her unsettling glance in your direction the day she asked the entire class of nine-year-olds at the Academy if they had pets they were sick of. She then proceeded to burn the flesh off a lab rat to demonstrate her pulsed energy laser.

This moment is burned into your mind forever, your mother’s clinical tone chilling your blood.

You stole Walter from the Citadel and took him home that same day.

You were careful to hide him, though you suspect your mother figured out what you did. She likely added it to her long list of disappointments when it comes to you.

Sometimes, you envy Walter. The simplicity his days hinge upon. His obliviousness to the woes of the world. His uncanny ability to sleep through the chaos of it, ignore the disarray. Walter’s world consists of food, play and cuddles.

What a blissful existence. You bet Walter never had a vexing thought in his short life.

The train of your thoughts is interrupted by the shrill ringing of the phone.

You carefully remove Walter from your lap. He meows in protest and jumps off the couch. You pick up the phone, chest clenching as a familiar face fills the flickering screen.

“Mother,” you greet. “How are you?”

She ignores your question, curtly stating, “You’re falling behind in Molecular Cell Biology.”

You know that tone all too well, the warning laced within it so achingly familiar.

Your fingers twist around the phone cord, your voice becoming small.

“I’ll get my grades up, I promise.”

Silence hovers between you and your mother for a while. Faint hope sparks within you. Perking up, you decide to tell her about your day.

“Oh, mother, today-”

“I must go,” she interrupts. “It’s time for my milk and cookies.”

Your spirits plummet. You nudge a hollow smile onto your face.

“Right. I didn’t realize,” you say, checking the clock hanging on the wall. “I’m sorry.”

She heaves out a deep sigh, her lone blue eye narrowing.

“Focus on your studies. And try not to be even more of an embarrassment to me than you already are.”

“Y-Yes, mother,” you reply, your heart shriveling inside your chest.

As she hangs up, you feel silly and horrible. Silly for trying to strike up a normal conversation with your mother. And horrible for letting her down once more.

“You came!” Clemensia exclaims as she rushes to you. You try not to tense as she gives you a tight hug. Ivy and Livia linger in the background, their eyes lifting from the crafts’ table.

You wave at them and are surprised when Ivy wiggles her fingers at you. Livia is more withdrawn, nodding to acknowledge your presence but quickly returning to her task.

You step out of Clemensia’s embrace and flash a quick smile.

“Well I promised you that I would,” you reply nonchalantly. You take a look around the room. Various decorations and posters are propped against the walls, while snowflakes cut-outs and what looks like moon dust are scattered on the table. It seems the girls have been busy.

You turn to Clemensia. “What’s the theme again?”

Ivy surprises you by answering cheerfully, “Well, it’ll be like a Winter daydream and we were thinking of making it a masquerade.”

Excitement sways in Clemensia’s bright eyes. “What do you think?”

“Sounds nice.” Your trite answer draws every gaze in the room to you. Awkwardly bouncing on your feet, you correct yourself, beaming at Clemensia. “I meant amazing.”

“I think so too,” she chimes.

She shows you the empty chair next to hers. The both of you sit down and she starts rambling about the theme and all the ideas she has to decorate the ballroom. You grow dizzy with all the information, trying to follow along her instructions at the same time.

“We’ll need to find you a date,” Clemensia says.

You shake the can of blue paint before spraying over the tree cut-out.

“It’s okay. I probably won’t be going anyway,” you respond absently.

The pencil in Livia’s hand snaps. Your head rises. The blonde’s gaping at you. You then realize…the same look of disbelief is etched on all the girls’ features. A frown mars your brow. Did you say something wrong? You didn’t realize this was such an important event.

A nervous laugh peals off Clemensia’s red-painted lips.

“No, but you have to,” she says, “It’s the first Yuletide Ball in over a decade. Everyone will be there.”

You shrug. “It’s four months away, Clemmie.”

Her onyx gaze shimmers.

“Well, a lot can happen in four months,” she sings, a mysterious smile spreading onto her lips.

#dark!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunger games #tbosas fanfiction #dark!coriolanus snow x reader

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lokisgoodgirl · 9 months

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Comfort & Joy: The Lakes [Loki x Reader]

The Lakes Masterlist / Regular Masterlist Summary: (9) Roll up, roll up for the Stark Christmas Jamboree. Where candied nuts and cunning plans both come with an extra sprinkling of festive sweetness. (w/c 7.8k) Warnings: Minors DNI. Usual Lakes fare. Humour, Asgardian lore, fluff, all the feels. Smut references. A/N: This is the final final edition of The Lakes.

“Remind me, what named day is this in your charming yuletide festivities?” Loki inquired as you stepped out the revolving door of the Tower.

Charming. You smiled.

Last year it would have been any number of synonyms for stupid. You could hear them, see his lips curling the words from memory. Gratuitous. Senseless. Superfluent. Foolish.

But that was your problem, you recognised, not his.

“I don’t think it has one officially,” you shivered, nestling your chin deeper into the scarf. Fuck, it was cold today. “But I call it Christmas Eve, Eve.”

You sighed, watching crowds of the general populous making their way in shuffling merriment towards the Christmas market. No, not market. Festive Jamboree.

Tony had taken it upon himself to create a mini-wonderland right outside the Tower for one day only, all proceeds to the local children’s hospital.

A ferris wheel rose at the end of the cordoned street, every carriage packed. The smell of hot-dogs and caramelised almonds filled the air, old-time speakers tied to high lamps blaring Andy Williams at a volume that couldn’t be code compliant. “Lighten up, darling” Loki chirped as a gloved hand laced with your own. You turned to him, forcing a smile through the nerves. He looked phenomenal. A high collared coat of darkest green framed his cheekbones, pink tipped in the sudden chill. The one you’d seen in the window. You couldn’t resist. But when it came to Loki, what else was new?

He’d popped the collar, loose strands of onyx hair tumbling over the thick of his scarf. The one you’d bought him, of course.

Against the pale of his skin, dark brows peaked above a lowered fan of lashes while his gaze lingered on your intertwined digits. He raised the back of your hand to his lips, kissing it firmly.

“This will be fun,” he murmured against your glove with a knowing glint. “Have you planned...something?” you laughed. “Other than the thing.”

The nerves were fading, finally. He pressed his free hand against his chest in mock-hurt. “You wound me with your suspicions, madam” he purred, playful insolence thick in his tone. He sniffed, raising his chin. “I am merely imbibed with the spirit of the season.” Mid-giggle, your whole body rocked forwards as two hands shook your shoulders from behind. “Merry Christmas Eve Eve, sister!” Thor boomed in your ear. There was ringing. Thor looked good. He smelled good. And blessedly for now at least, there were no crumbs in his beard. “And to you, brother” Loki said, smile widening.

Thor tilted his head, regarding Loki’s jovial demeanour with suspicion. “And to you, brother-” he rumbled. His interest was piqued. “What has my Sponge of a sibling in such a buoyant mood this fine December day?” “It’s Scrooge,” you corrected, grinning. Thor grinned back as all eyes fell on your lover.

Loki gaped, darting his gaze between you both.

“Scrooge?!” he scoffed incredulously. “In past years, perhaps. Yet despite your attempt to churl me, I shall take it as a compliment,” Loki said, squeezing your hand, “for I too was visited by three spirits and thus...changed forever.” Thor frowned, “spirits, says you?” “Yes, brother. Yourself, Rogers, and the spectre of that ghastly reclining chair.”

Thor chuckled, before being distracted by something deeper within the crowd. Or someone. He cleared his throat. “I must to the candied nuts, brother” he muttered formally.

Out the corner of your eye, you saw Rogers tip the nuts-vendor a quick salute as he nestled a fresh bag in his hand like a hamster. Heat steamed from the opening, wafting through frosty air. “Oh yes brother,” Loki drawled with equal gravitas. “The nuts will not eat themselves.” Thor squinted as a restrained smirk danced at Loki’s dimples. “Indeed,” the blonde replied, clearing his throat. “I shall see you at the bandstand anon.” And with a curt nod to you, he waddled hands in his pockets through the throng. You watched him go as Loki’s warm breath seeped down your neck, his mouth fastening to your pulse-point with a happy hum of pleasure. “You’re naughty,” you chided playfully. Loki nodded against your neck, the vibration of his agreement making you fizz. “And I have the knitwear to prove it,” he whispered. As you made your way through the crowd, Loki’s hand never left yours.

The two of you together were a familiar sight in Manhattan, and Avenger-fans on the whole had been beside themselves at news of your reunion. Confirmations had been slow. At you and Loki’s insistence, there had been no official statement. But the public had cottoned on eventually, with the help of the press.

Fans waited politely for pictures, nervously pulling at gloves and activating their cameras while you and Loki smiled and chatted. It was night and day from the way things used to be, while you stood on the sidelines amid a sea of bodies whipped into a frenzy by the god of mischief’s theatrical adulation.

Every so often, Loki would nuzzle your cheek; checking in. You’d squeeze his hand. One for all good, two for let’s go. You didn’t need that second squeeze today.

“With regret, we must depart for the afternoon’s questionable entertainment,” Loki announced. There was a chorus of disappointment, but he patted down the air.

“Please, join us-” he smiled to the crowd gathered around you, extending an arm towards the bandstand not thirty meters away. “Your participation will be most appreciated to drown out the subpar efforts of all of us. Truly, you will never look at us the same way, I guarantee it.” Despite having been erected overnight, the bandstand in the centre of the wonderland wouldn’t look out of place in Victorian England. Thin wrought iron pillars stretched upwards, twisting to an ornate canopy adorned with Christmas lights. Garlands wound up the pillars, twinkling sporadically. It was only 3pm, but the gathering darkness made them shine. A modest band of brass and strings had gathered beneath the canopy, instrument tune-ups peppering the chilly air.

And in front of it, in a semi-circle, microphones.

Steve stood to the side, handing booklets to a line of anxious looking avengers. Bucky, Wanda, Sam, Natas-

“I cannot believe we have to do this,” Bucky muttered ruefully as he threw his coat in the assigned box. “I can’t believe it. I actually can’t? Someone, fight me. Knock me out.” “We’re all in the same boat, Buck” Natasha lamented. She pulled at the baggy jumper hanging around her hips. Bucky looked down at his chest, pleading eyes meeting her stoic stare. “Fight me, Romanoff. Please.” “Don’t tempt me,” Natasha replied. Their jumpers were matching. Red, thick wool hiding any hint of the lithe muscle beneath. And stitched on them in winding, white-knitted lettering? Nice.

Your chest shook with the effort of holding in giggles. Even knowing what was coming, it hadn’t prepared you for the reality.

Looking around, you clocked each of your teammates in turn. Stark’s logic was thus – Avengers with a ‘harder’ reputation? Nice jumpers. And for those reputed to be on the softer side?-

“You’re wearing the wrong gosh-darn sweater, Laufeyson!” Steve hissed over your shoulder.

Both of you spun to face him. Steve’s arms were folded over the green version of the standard knit, the word Naughty emblazoned on his chest in white bobbling letters. Your shoulders were shaking now, too. “Don’t act like you're surprised, Rogers” Loki drawled. His coat hung off one long finger, before disappearing in a flash of seidr. “The public will not be fooled by Stark’s futile attempt at psychological subterfuge. I am simply getting ahead of the inevitable Tumblr edits.”

Steve’s chin snapped towards you. “Did you know about this?” he piped, flustered. You raised your eyebrows guiltily, making Steve’s hands fly in the air. “Perfect. Just heckin’ perfect. Why I outta-” “What seems to be the problem?” Thor’s voice boomed from behind. The words were accompanied by crunching, flecks of almond littering his green jumper like snow. You and Loki parted, making a four-square shoulder to shoulder and shuffling further towards safety from prying ears. “Laufeyson’s taken it upon himself to go against the agreed sweater-allocation and wear a Naughty, that’s what-” Steve bubbled bitterly.

Crimson had begun to creep up his cheekbones. A vein in his neck throbbed. Thor threw his head back with an almighty roar of laughter. Several almonds bounced from the bag in his hand from the force.

“Come now, Rogers ” he managed through gasps of mirth. “What did you expect? Tis just a silly rule, who cares?” He tossed an almond in the air, attempting to catch it in his mouth. It ricocheted off his eye. As Thor began blinking, Steve raised the clipboard in his hand. He tapped it violently. “I’m in charge of project managing this,” he hissed. “Laufeyson – change back to Nice.”

“Shan’t.” Loki quipped. Steve flushed deeper. “Laufeyson,” he warned. “Actually,” Loki started, enjoying the hushed tension. “I think you’ll find I am rather nice. You saw to that. So in truth, my sweater is fitting for this farce.” Steve’s eye began to twitch.

There was silence.

“Look at us, we’re like a little team," you offered, pointing to each of your green jumpers in turn. “Like the old days.”

Thor chuckled agreement as Loki and Steve stared each other down, a smile playing on Loki’s mouth that was irrevocably absent from the Captain’s. All four of you, it seemed, wore the Naughty uniform today. “In your case, as in mine, our knitwear reflects our essence perfectly my darling” Loki purred to you while his eyes narrowed towards a now vibrating super-soldier. “My naughty...naughty girl.” Steve sighed, hanging his head in resignation. “I told Tony this was a pooper of an idea,” he lamented. “It’s a disaster and it’s not even started.”

Thor’s hand clapped the captain’s shoulder in sympathy, lingering in a squeeze. Steve looked up at him, their eyes meeting.

The blonde god’s gaze widened slightly. You saw his fingers clench as his hand froze. In moments, he raised it; fluffing back his hair before sliding the hand into the pocket of his jeans.

“It’s only one sweater, Rogers” he muttered nervously. “Who cares?” Steve’s face fell, eyes darting to Thor’s crotch with a frown before rising back to his face. “I expected better of you, Odinson” was all he said before turning away.

Loki let out an exasperated sigh, elbowing his brother in the ribs. But Thor didn’t even flinch. His features had crumpled, spinning slowly as he watched the captain leave. His nuts? Forgotten.

But Steve didn’t see it. He was already making his way to the cluster of anxious looking Avengers huddled by the bandstand, examining carol music like they were Hydra files. “That could have gone better,” you whispered to Loki. The god frowned. His attempt to provoke his brother into siding with Rogers had not borne fruit. “Fear not,” Loki replied mysteriously as Thor produced a chicken drumstick from his jeans pocket. He tore off a chunk with a thousand-yard stare. Loki watched him in disbelief, continuing slowly. “There is still time to salvage this operation from the wreckage of my brother’s obstinance.” You gaze flitted between your team-mates. Bucky – Nice. Natasha- Nice. Clint – Naughty. Bruce – Naughty. Wanda – Nice. Sam – Naughty. Scott – Nice. Out the corner of your eye, you saw Loki swipe the half-ravaged chicken drumstick from Thor’s hold with hushed reprimand.

“What’s the big man wearing, I wonder?” you asked no one in particular. Loki snorted, “what else?” he said, nudging his head towards the Santa podium. There he was, Father Christmas aka. Tony Stark. Dressed in ray-bans and custom tailored suit, he looked suspiciously trim for a man in his position.

“Ah,” you smiled.

Loki’s smokey cologne filled your nostrils as he looped his arms around your body, pulling you tight to his chest. “It seems he will not be joining us in this public embarrassment,” he smirked before placing a warming kiss on your lips. Then to the corner of your mouth, then to the angle of your jaw. “Places!” a peaky-sounding Steve shouted, tapping a baton against the music stand at the head of the choir section. There was a deep line between his eyebrows that was decidedly un-Christmassy. “Norns,” Loki muttered. His hands slid down your body, fingers weaving through yours. “Ready?” he breathed nervously, your foreheads touching.

“Are you?” you replied.

Loki squeezed once.

The front row of the audience was made up of children, patients of the hospital. Cushioned folding chairs were laid in a half-crescent, two dozen of their smiling faces staring expectantly. Several of them sat in wheelchairs in the middle. Prime spot. One of them was wearing a pin-badge with Loki’s face on it. A young connoisseur, you thought with a smile.

Behind them, the growing crowd heaved. Sparkling Stark-Industries antlers filled your field of vision, handed out at the gates. There was a static hum, hundred of conversations and jokes and countless eyes inspecting each of you with anticipation. You could feel their excitement fizzing in the air while Bucky fidgeted beside you. Thinking about his solo you had no doubt. You rubbed his back sympathetically. He offered a weak smile of thanks. Steve tapped the pedestal again. “Avengers,” he announced with authority. The hushed whispers and small waves of the team to the crowd came to a halt. “One..two..” he mouthed the three.

All of a sudden, the air came alive with the sound of ten voices, stronger and louder and more melodic than you had expected. Unbelievably, it sounded...good. Hark! The Heralds, angels sing; Glory to the newborn king,

The brass quintet upon the bandstand soared. Even in practice, it hadn’t been this good. A Christmas miracle, you thought as you belted out the words in some semblance of tune.

Peace on earth and mercy mild, God and sinners reconcile, Your gaze flickered to the other side of the semi-circle, catching Loki’s.

He held his carol-sheet diligently at arms-length, not looking at it. But rather, at you.

He winked.

Steve had rightly separated you. The chances of him squeezing your ass in front of the sick children was just too high. What if one of them goes into shock, Steve had said. But in truth, it was the deep, soulful magnetism of Loki’s singing voice that posed the real risk. If you were standing beside him, you weren’t sure if you’d be able to contain yourself. You winked back. Beside Loki, Thor craned towards the paper his brother held.

Thor had memorised every carol. Every modern classic. Everything in the repertoire. You knew that for a fact.

For the last two weeks, ever since your conversation in the common room – you’d been able to hear him before you could see him. And not in the usual way. You’d become accustomed to hearing his theatrical rendition of Silent Night bouncing its ironic way around the tile of the gym, the hallways, seeping through floors. And what he lacked in vocal melody, he certainly made up for in enthusiasm.

No - in truth, as the God of Thunder stared at the music sheet, he was avoiding Steve’s appraising stare which darted to each of them in turn. Joyful, all ye nations rise, Join the triumph of the skies,

Reluctantly tearing your gaze away from your boyfriend, you focused back on the conductor. The crimson flush of his ears had ebbed. He was beginning to smile. Well, a little.

Hark! The Heralds, angels sing; Glory to the newborn king,

The carol continued. And then the next, and the next. Collection buckets that were being passed amongst the crowd began to overflow, the spectators indulging in a mix of swaying, singing, dancing.

With every song that passed, Bucky became more nervous, his voice a little higher.

You only faltered once during Winter Wonderland when you made the mistake of looking at Loki again. At some point, he had raked his hair back. Pink peaked at his cheekbones, his hip slouched casually, tapping his foot in time. One side of his sweater was concealed in the waistband of his dark chinos. A french-tuck, if you weren’t mistaken. It highlighted the sluttish creases that strained at his crotch.

Dark curls fell around the green knit, half-lidded eyes following each word as he sang it. You would fuck that sweater right off him later. Or maybe, he could keep it on...you mused. His smooth baritone slid over the words like a sled in morning’s first snow, to face unafraid, the plans that we made, walking in a- He looked up with a knowing side-smile in your direction. A sharp elbow in the ribs from Wanda made you realised you had lost your train of thought. Your mouth was open, but no words were coming out. “-winter wonderlaaaand,” you squawked out of time.

Steve’s eyes snapped to you, brow arched. He couldn’t complain, not really. Considering how well it was going. A brief erotically-charged moment of disassociation was the least he could expect, surely. As the song drew to a close with a flourish of conductor Rogers’ arms, the crowd burst into applause. With every passing number, it had become louder. You weren’t sure if there were more people, or if the mulled wine had been refilled. Steve spun to face the audience, growing darkness making the warm glow from fairylights create a halo around his blonde hair.

“And now...a very special treat,” he announced mysteriously to the expectant crowd. “Something very, very special indeed. I’ve heard it in rehearsal and golly, he’s just spiff.” Bucky’s feet began scuffing on the ground. He’s going to do a runner, you thought. But thankfully for Bucky, he had nothing to worry about.

The plan was for Barnes to perform a rousing rendition of Christmas (Baby Please Come Home) by Olivia Holt. Or Michael Buble, depending on the demographic. Backed up by the jingling ooo’s and aaa’s of the team of course. But despite Barnes initial enthusiasm, the thought of it had filled him with more horror each passing day.

Steve had been very excited about the whole affair. A grand finale for his orchestral debut, such as it was. And Bucky hadn’t the heart to tell him. “Buck?” you muttered out the corner of your mouth. You glanced at him, trying to be covert. He was sweating, staring blankly ahead. “Buck?” “Yuh.” Barnes mustered quietly as Steve began to move a microphone between the sick kids. Their little voices made your heart flutter. But you had a job to do. The weight of Loki’s concentration radiated from across the space between you. He was watching you and Bucky, completely still aside from one twitching finger and the small smile flickering at his dimples. You cleared your throat, leaning to the side towards the soldier. “In a few seconds you might feel a bit funny-” “I already feel a bit funny doll,” he murmured bitterly. “Yeah but...well, you’ll see. Just don’t freak out.” “Freak-what-now?” “Out-” “-Yah I got that-” he snapped, trying to turn towards you and failing. He tried to twist, but his shoulders wouldn’t budge. “What the-?” “Buck?” you repeated slowly. He met your eyes, the first shadows of fear creeping in. “When Steve calls you up, just shake your head. You have a little bit of movement in your neck. And you can talk a little. Just a little so I can check you’re okay. Okay?” Bucky raised his eyebrows in a grimacing caricature. You decided to assume that meant it was totally cool. “Who are hoo hurkin’ hor!?” he hissed in a wreckage of lisping syllables. His shoulders shook ever so slightly back and forth like a wound-up nutcracker as he tried and failed to move his feet. “Oh, no-” you said, realising he thought you’d been turned. “No, it’s just Loki’s magic. Don’t worry.” Bucky’s eyes widened.

‘Please welcome-’

“You’re off the hook with the song?” you chirped quietly, hoping it had the intended effect. Barnes stopped struggling. ‘-my friend, James Buchanan Barnes!’ A round of deafening applause snapped you from your bubble. Steve stood back at his podium, baton poised and ready for the band to begin.

Alongside the other Avengers, except Bucky, you bent down and picked up a sleigh bell carefully placed at your feet. You could beat someone to death with this thing, you thought as the chrome bells jingled beneath your hand. Wanda shot you a knowing glance, holding in a laugh.

The applause ebbed as James Buchanan Barnes remained rooted to the spot. His eyes darted side to side across the waiting crowd. He shook his head very, very slowly. Showtime, you thought. “I’m afraid he has a bit of stage-fright,” you explained loudly. Collective disappointment hummed in the air. Steve’s face flushed an immediate shade of fuchsia, features hardening. You could see the cogs in his brain turn, a victorious glittering finale slipping from his grasp. His lips puckered, sucking in his cheeks. “I’m sure with a little...encouragement,” Steve said with a grimacing smile, raising his arms. The crowd roared back to life.

Bucky shook his head, a bit faster this time. Rogers head lowered, the breath from his sigh of exasperation clouding around his face. “If I may...” came Loki’s calm drawl from across the line-up. It dripped with sensual showmanship, treacleish tones sending an immediate flood of desire leaking into your panties.

Men and women in the front rows grasped at each other, gawking as if suddenly seeing him for the first time. It doesn’t get any easier folks, you thought with a smile. “My brother here knows the arrangement by heart,” Loki continued. “The lyrics and suchlike- I’m sure he would be happy to relieve Barnes of his duties-”

Mutters of excitement spread through the crowd like a mexican wave. Thor immediately turned his back to the audience, muttering something at surprisingly hushed volume in his brother’s ear. Loki listened diligently, holding up a penitent finger to the crowd. Steve’s arms were folded, storm-clouds knitting his brow. The foot had begun to tap. “My brother makes the valid point that of the two of us, I am the more musically inclined-” Loki began, gracefully gripping Thor’s shoulders and spinning him back to face the audience.

He brushed his brother’s collar, removing the last of the almond crumbs which resided there. A smile you knew all too well stretched across Loki’s lips as he looked deep into Thor’s eyes, willing him to understand. “But alas,” Loki purred, “I know not the words.” And perhaps these words will heal, Loki thought.

Loki held his breath as Thor began to gingerly shuffle forwards, tugging at the hem of his Naughty- emblazoned jumper. If father could see us now, Loki mused with a shiver as his brother gripped the microphone.

The crowd was beginning to stomp in appreciation, driven into a frenzy by the turn of events. Thor gave a small wave, bashful smile growing wider as people began to whistle. Loki turned his attention to Rogers, standing stiff and poised with baton in the air. He gave it a singular flourish, counting down from three. The crowd fell silent.

Loki saw the moment that Steve and Thor’s eyes met. It seemed to make every fairy bulb glow a little brighter in the darkness, sparks of hope spreading like embers from a fire, fluttering upwards in a night sky. Please brother, Loki pleaded silently as he raised his sleigh bell. Don’t arse this up. He suddenly wondered if Thor had felt this way during their time at the cottage. Loki supposed that he had. The brass band sprang to life, drums making an entrance. (Christmaaaas) Loki sang suddenly with the others. Nine voices harmonised as one.

Thor panicked, pulling the microphone to his mouth. “Snow is...coming down...uh-oof-” he spluttered, the cable tangling around his shoe. (Christmaaaaas) they sang, cringing slightly.

One line in, and Loki had almost lost all hope. “I'm watching it faaaaall” Thor crooned in bass – a little more tunefully. (Christmaaaas) “Lots of...very lovely and festive, yes – you...people aro-hounnnd,” (Christmaaaas) Loki sang, a smile beginning to spread as his brother came alive. He was pointing at the children, giggles and squeals peppering the air. The sleigh bell beat against his palm in time with his brother’s voice. “Baby, please come ho-hommmme,” Thor sang. Loki looked up, catching a look on your face that he hadn’t seen before. There was something different in that look. Some deeper variable of your smile that ignited his heart. But there would be time for overthinking it later, he surmised as his brother launched into the chorus with a glottal barrage of enthusiasm. For now, he had a love to nurture.

As Loki released his practised backing harmonies with the rest of the team, his brother got into his stride. ‘Owned the stage,’ Loki believed was the term. Steve didn’t take his eyes off Thor for the whole number. And if Loki didn’t know better, which of course – he did, he would swear that the captain was blushing.

(Please) they sang, sleigh bells jangling in time. “Pleaseee” echoed his brother. (Please) “Please” (Please) “Please” (Please) “Please Baby, please come hommmme-” You were surprised the operatic efforts of Loki’s brother didn’t make the ground shake.

The crowd were beside themselves, singing and jiving and waving their hands in the air. Thor worked the big crescendo, falling to his knees on the ground. His thighs spread, and whether it was his intention or not, you saw Steve grip the podium as his sensibilities buckled. Just a bit. The captain’s lips rolled together, stifling what you were sure was a bite. Thank god Thor wore the tight jeans today, you mused as you held the final note. With a swiping flourish of the conductor’s baton, the song was over. The cheers were deafening.

Thor stood and gave a small bow, sudden bashfulness descending. He waved, backing off to the side. His eyes met Steve’s, giving him an understated nod. The captain returned it slowly, a look in his eyes you hadn’t seen before. You watched him mouth two words, thank you, before Thor collided into Loki.

There was only one more song to go. You watched as Loki patted his brother’s shoulder across the semi-circle, pulling him into a hug. His face was alight with pride. It melted your heart. Despite the passing of the months, you couldn’t get over how different his smiles were now. Open. Genuine. Real. He’s finally opened his heart.

Have you? The thought came intrusively. Fairy lights shone all around as Loki tussled his brother’s hair. Thor couldn’t stop smiling. And neither could Steve, you noticed. One more song. Rogers tapped the podium for the final time, raising the baton. The mellow sound of the saxophone twisted in the air, followed by strings.

“I'm dreaming of a white Christmas Just like the ones I used to know” you sang. Loki’s eyes met yours, sparkling with the glitter of mischief well done. “Where the treetops glisten, And children listen, To hear sleigh bells in the snow,”

Bucky’s voice began to grow louder beside you. Released from his bodily prison at last. On cue, the Avengers began to peel away from the semi-circle, mingling with the crowd. Of course, any production orchestrated by Steve Rogers would end in a collective heart-melting communal singalong. Nothing else would do.

You watched as Wanda cosied up to a older man holding a mulled wine. He offered it to her immediately, stunned as he mouthed the words to White Christmas. She took it.

For your part, you made a beeline for the children sitting at the front of the audience, joining them in their sway. This whole thing was for them, after all. Loki’s shadow crept behind you, falling over the little girl with his face emblazoned on the pin badge.

“I'm dreaming of a white Christmas, with every Christmas card I write” Loki purred melodically as he lowered to his haunches. He paused, leaning in to give her a kiss on the cheek. You watched her face, transfixed in joy as all her daydreams came true. The God of Mischief in person, his shadowed blue eyes looking into hers as though she was the only person in the world. That never gets old, either, you thought. He took her hand, pressing her tiny palm against his own. “May your days,” he sang with the crowd as his fingertips glowed green, “be merry and bright-” You couldn’t tear yourself from the look of absolute sincerity on his face. The utter determination painted on softened features to give this sweet girl a memory that would last for the rest of her life – however long that was.

Tears began to prick your eyes, seeing the crane of her neck upwards as her mouth fell open in wonder to the sky. Loki smiled. The green shimmer of his palm pressed to hers grew stronger. A glow flashed across the inky night, a billowing flourish of northern lights erupting over central Manhattan seeped in emerald and pinkish hues. They twisted in waves, swirling like a cloak which moved and rolled. It was alive. Loki's voice was quieter now, but no less beautiful as he sang. “And may all your Christmases, be-” “white,” the little girl gasped as snow began to fall. He did that, you thought in wonder as the crowd began to cheer, hugging each other. All sets of eyes were turned upwards to the sky. All but yours. They stayed fixed on Loki as the band played on amidst a flutter of newly swirling snowflakes. The man I love.

“The tie, brother-” Thor muttered nervously, “is it..?” “It is well done, brother” Loki replied.

He dusted the lapel of Thor’s crushed velvet suit jacket a final time, a deep red the shade of fine merlot. The blonde released a trembling sigh, pulling at his fingers.

It was Christmas Eve. “Did you take the pharmaceuticals as instructed?” Loki enquired quietly as the elevator bounced to a halt. Thor nodded, patting his breast pocket. “The Tums? Yes. I have some on my person should the gaseous beast rear in my belly.” Loki nodded, satisfied. All the bases were covered. He had done all he could do. Now, it was up to Thor. Well, almost. It had been Loki’s idea for the brothers to dress together for the party tonight. And although his initial plan was to ensure that Thor was in peak condition for this eve of great import, Loki would admit that he had enjoyed it. Very much.

He wore a suit matching his brother’s in all but one detail. Loki’s was a crushed velvet of richest emerald green. Thin silk ties of gold adorned them both, fastened tight to the white shirts beneath with a pin bearing their respective emblems. Loki’s gift to his brother. The Asgardian Princes were showing up, tonight. Loki had made sure of it. Mother would be proud, he smiled as the elevator doors opened. Thor’s Yuletide offering to him had been a gift certificate to the Cheesecake Factory, but Loki paid it no mind. Gifts had never been his brother's strong-suit.

The rest of the team was already gathered by the Christmas tree, festive beverages in hand. A rolling cheer of greeting sounded as the duo strode towards the scene. Loki grabbed two glasses from the bar, passing one to his brother who necked it immediately. The dark god swirled his finger, refilling it. Loki felt his brows rise as he saw you, standing with one finger curled over your lip and an entirely too sensual smirk on your beautiful face. Beneath the perfectly cut trousers of his suit, Loki’s cock twitched. “You look handsome,” you coaxed quietly as he slid an arm around your waist, releasing a breath he’d been holding as a charged grunt of need.

“If we had gotten ready for tonight together,” Loki growled hot in your ear, “I fear that dress would never have been seen by another intact.” He pressed himself to you with a lingering kiss, an appreciative thrust of his hips rubbing against your own. He sighed into your open mouth, feeling your fingers dig into his shoulders. “God,” Natasha muttered with playful scorn under her breath, shuffling over to give you both space. “Can’t take them anywhere,” she murmured to Sam. Sam grunted in agreement.

“Presents!” Tony cried, clapping his hands together. “Party starts at eight, tick tock. Cutting it fine thanks to Paris and Nicole here.” He nodded in Loki and Thor’s direction. Steve checked his watch. “One cannot rush perfection, Stark” Loki smirked, releasing you. He watched as Rogers turned and adjusted a decoration on the tree. A plush rabbit wearing a santa hat. He was nervous. Tony knelt down, reading each gift tag and throwing it to the corresponding team-member. An oblong package whizzed past Loki's face, hitting his brother square in the mouth. 'Ooft,' Thor grunted as mulled wine slopped over the side of the glass. He stumbled, catching the present. Loki sighed, flexing his fingers and removing the stain from the front of his sibling’s suit. His brother nestled the empty glass dangerously within the tree branches to his side, inspecting the package. “Tis soft,” he muttered seriously. Across the circle, Loki saw Steve’s anxious gaze darting upwards at his brother in intervals. He noted you offer the captain a comforting nod while Thor tore at immaculate wrapping, ripping off the red ribbon and casting it aside. “Odin’s beard…” Thor gasped as the final sliver of paper fell away.

The team fell silent, looking up from their various body massagers and associated tat. He raised the item in his hands like Simba, slack-jawed in awe. The amazed god stared at it, eyes glossy.

Bruce frowned towards the blonde, peering over his glasses with an oversized posing pouch dangling from one finger. “Is that-?” “-A chicken drumstick?” Nat gawked. “Tis’ soft…!” Thor breathed in wonder, twirling it in his hands. He clutched it to his chest, eyes darting around the group. “A thousand thanks upon whomever bestowed this plush poultry treasure upon me,” he murmured, unable to resist holding the cushion proudly at arms length.

“Truly whomever be my secretive santa knows me to my core-” he continued dreamily, looking to each avenger in turn. They all looked befuddled. All except one. Thor’s brow creased, doing a double take as Steve’s cheeks plunged to new depths of crimson. “Rogers?” the blonde god whispered, so low only Loki could hear it. “Open yours Steve!” someone probed. Captain America still held his own package in his hands, toying with it gently.

Loki maintained his stoic expression, tossing his newly acquired bottle of luxury dry shampoo between his hands as he noted horror descend on his brother’s face. Never fear, brother; he thought smugly. Thor thought that Steve was about to open a small box containing yet another gift certificate to the Cheesecake Factory. But Thor was mistaken. Firstly, America’s saviour was lactose intolerant. Any internet search would have told him that. But despite his brother’s poverty of imagination where presents were concerned, his heart was in the right place. And for the cunning plan his love and he had concocted, there was only one gift which could bring the two men comfort and joy this Christmas. The truth. “Wait, wait-” Thor yelped as he took several panicked strides across the room. He knelt down to Steve’s level, placing his hands over the box that Steve had only just revealed through the wrapping. “It’s not-” Steve looked up, meeting the god’s panicked stare with practised indifference.

“Let me open it, will ya?” he said calmly. Thor sank back, head bowed as he waited for the axe to fall. With every careful unlatching of sellotape, Loki saw his brother’s heart sink a little more into his stomach. “Good gravy, what’s this? A pocket-square?” Thor looked up, regret turning to confusion as he clocked the handkerchief dangling between Rogers slender fingers. It was familiar, heavy with otherworldly silk and trimmed in thread ground from the most precious jewels of nine realms. On one side, deepest burgundy melting to crimson. But on the other, a rich navy which faded to shimmering azure.

Red and blue, not red and green.

The two colours met in the middle, threads glittering and overlapping like foam on the shore. They seemed to move. To change and ebb in the light like a living thing. And stitched across the handkerchief in the finest gold,

En sannhet byttet mot en sannhet. “Jeepers,” Steve muttered as he pulled the silk appraisingly through his fingers. “Someone definitely went over the twenty dollar limit.” Thor twisted his head incredulously towards his brother. Loki narrowed his eyes briefly in response, coupled with a small nod. The blonde god cleared his throat, finally catching up to the scenario unfolding before him. “A truth for a truth,” Thor breathed quietly, looking to the floor.

Steve’s concentration broke, as if suddenly seeing the person kneeling beside him on the floor for the first time. “P-pardon?” he stuttered. There was a sudden wave of green hued light through the room, reminiscent of the northern lights which lit up last night’s sky at the jamboree. “My apologies, Rogers…” Loki purred, stepping forwards. “I feel it best to inform you that the others cannot see nor hear us at this moment. As far as they are aware, you are both by the bar.” Loki nodded to where a slightly glitchy duo of duplicates stood behind Tony’s counter, clinking glasses of tequila. “Just myself, and she-” he nodded to you, “are witness.” “W-witness?” Steve spluttered, trying to stand and finding his knees starting to buckle. He looked at Thor, eyes wide. But all he found was softness. “Say the words, Rogers” Thor urged gently, gesturing to the handkerchief. Steve frowned, as the blonde god pulled the silk from his grip.

“A truth for...what was it? Truth for a truth?” Rogers asked, confused gaze darting between the men and you.

Loki clapped his hands together quietly. “Wonderful. You are now bound to the Accords of the Kerchief.” Steve frowned deeper. “Accords of the what-now?” “Kerchief,” Loki repeated formally, nodding towards the silk in Thor’s hand.

“You have both held it while the other spoke the words. And now, you must exchange the truth which causes the conflict between you – so that it may be resolved.” “And what if I don’t wanna?” Rogers sniffed, ears burning. He avoided Thor’s eyes. Loki released a whittling hum of discontent. “Unfortunately, failure to comply with the Accord of the Kerchief once initiated means instant smiting at the hands of Heimdall.” “Smiting?! You can’t be serious,” Steve scoffed with gusto. “Oh yes,” Loki nodded very seriously. Thor was nodding too. Also very seriously. “The penalties are most grave, Rogers.” “You tricked me,” Steve hissed to the blonde opposite him.

“Technically I tricked you,” Loki smirked apologetically. Rogers eyes narrowed in his direction, his lip trembling with what looked suspiciously like a swear. “Laufeyson,” he warned. Loki extended his forefinger, waggling it slowly side-to-side. “It will do not a jot of good, Rogers. You can thank my mother for this one. Now -” he gestured expectantly between the men. Thor took a deep breath. “Rogers-Ihavefeelingsforyouwhichcannotbeexplainedin,mere...Norns-” “Slow down, Thor-” you cooed gently.

Loki felt your hand slide into his. The nerves roaring in his belly soothed as your fingers interlinked. Despite maintaining an exterior of calm, he was terrified.

“Rogers,” Thor began again. Steve stared at him, transfixed. The aura of suspicion which surrounded him was fading, his stiff spine slackening as he looked at the god. Really looked at him. Saw him.

“I have feelings for you, which run deep to the heart of me. Which I cannot deny any longer. And if you feel that you cannot return my interest, then I shall understand. But I cannot spend another night unable to sleep, thinking that you believe me to hate you. And I apologise for my boorish behaviour these past months.” There was a pause as the god took a breath before continuing. “It was self preservation, you see-” Thor rumbled quietly, before sighing.

Steve looked down, still except for his fingers fidgeting with the wrapping paper in his lap. “That was well done, brother” Loki soothed. Thor shot him a sad smile. “I-” Rogers started.

The three of you held your breath. He looked up, just at the moment Thor curled a blonde tendril behind his ear. “I-” Steve choked, shifting on his knees. “It’s okay Steve,” you coaxed from the side-lines. It was the final nudge he needed. “I feel the same,” was all Steve said. He looked up, meeting Thor’s widening eyes. “Truly?” Steve nodded shyly. “I got myself in a tizz, about a whole bunch of things which weren’t really to do with you. Or….us. Not really,” he stammered. "It wasn't a mistake. And I was a dummy to say so." Loki felt your fingernails dig into his palm, both of you craning forwards as the captain continued. His voice was serious, a slight waver just audible between the words. “For a while, I thought you thought I was just some kinda tart. Some kind of loose Jack. Well lemme tell you Odinson, Steve Rogers is no one’s tart.” “You were never my tart, Rogers,” Thor uttered with gravitas, gently cupping Steve’s jaw. The captain’s eyelids fluttered closed, leaning into his hold. In seconds, the space between them closed. Rogers arms wrapped around Thor’s shoulders, Thor’s hands sliding around the captain’s waist. They fit together like a glove, Steve’s fingers winding in the god’s hair like a spindle through spun gold. Low mutterings of apologies cascaded from their lips between kisses, small gasps and sighs as unpleasantness of past months were forgotten. “What the fuck?” Tony spluttered. Every set of eyes in the room was fixed on the God of Thunder and Captain America’s passionate embrace. Hel, Loki thought with a shock. In all the excitement, he had neglected to hold the spell which shielded them. The kiss ceased, but still their arms were wound around each other. “Sheesh,” Wanda laughed, grabbing a bottle of the good stuff on her way past the bar. “It’s about time.” A murmur of agreement rolled around the room, a chorus of whoops sounding as each teammate stooped to offer a clap on the back to the newly outed couple. And for the first time in living memory, the colour of Thor’s cheeks rivalled his lover’s. “Maybe you guys won’t be the public embarrassment at parties anymore,” Nat quipped as she passed, tapping Loki and you lightly on the ass. Your laughter lit up Loki’s heart. And there was that look in your eye again, the one he couldn’t place yesterday.

‘We did it,’ you mouthed silently to him. Loki winked in response, just as the clock chimed eight. With a spring in his step, Loki made his way to the men kneeling awkwardly on the floor, noting their interlinked fingers with a wave of pride. He offered both hands, and each was taken. He heaved, pulling the men to stand and immediately into a hug.

“Merry Christmas, brother” he whispered in Thor’s ear. “Do you need the handkerchief back?” Thor muttered through a smile. “I am assuming the revised colours were only temporary.” Loki chuckled, pulling him and Rogers tighter. The captain released a strangled ooft as the air was pressed from his lungs.

“I think not that we need such a trinket to ensure our bond. Not anymore. Do you, brother?” Loki murmured into his sibling’s hair.

From deep within the embrace, in a hold which seemed to melt the centuries, Loki felt his brother shake his head.

The party was a roaring success. And in the early hours of Christmas Day, you and Loki stumbled back to your apartment upstairs.

It was tiredness, mostly – and happiness. Strands of tinsel poked from Loki’s curls. You pulled one out with a giggle before unlocking the door and pulling him inside. “Finally,” he growled longingly as one slim finger toyed with the strap of your dress. Making quick work of pushing the velvet suit jacket from his shoulders, your fingers were halfway down his shirt buttons before you suddenly remembered- “-your present!” you cried, making Loki flinch back from where he had been buried in your neck.

“Can’t it wait?” he whined with feigned impatience. You waved an excited hand, scurrying to the cupboard. “No.” you shouted, head popping out behind the cupboard door. “I’ve been dying to give it to you.” Loki sighed, a reluctant smile spreading across his beautiful face. “I thought we agreed no gifts,” he huffed as you ran and sat cross-legged on the bed.

You bounced on your knees while he swaggered over, undoing the last of his buttons with a knowing grin as he enjoyed the roam of your hungry stare across his skin. His carved abdomen flirted into view, obliques visible with each stride as the thick cotton folded to his movements. Loki sat on the bed, legs spread at the edge. His thighs creased the material in a way that made your mouth water.

He picked up the box, inspecting it before throwing you a lingering smoulder. “Mischievous elf,” he purred. “It’s just a small thing” you bargained, biting your lip as the first side of paper was torn. “I stole it, actually.” Loki raised an eyebrow. “Open it!” you said, chewing on your thumbnail as you watched his eyes drop to the package. Suddenly the god’s face changed.

Playfulness melted to a frown, his smirk fading. He swallowed thickly, staring down at the mug in his hands before looking up at you. “-with the yellow bear,” he said quietly. “and the eyepatch!” you beamed. “I took it from the cottage. I noticed you always used it, I thought you might like the-”

Before you could finish, Loki’s hand had cupped the back of your head and pulled you into an all-consuming kiss. He bore down on you, the passion of his adoration sinking through the air and deep into your soul. Every circle of his tongue against yours, every caress of his breath as he repositioned his mouth over your own. He broke, panting. “Darling,” was all he could muster in thanks as he looked down at the ceramic with adoring eyes. You couldn’t stop smiling. His gaze snapped up, a click of his fingers making a perfectly wrapped present appear beside you on the bed. Golden paper shimmered before becoming whole. It was flat, and light. “No presents, huh?” you goaded sweetly. Loki smiled. “Open it,” he echoed. You complied. And inside the paper was a perfectly folded nightdress, adorned with autumnal leaves. The very same one. You hugged it to your chest, a dopey smile on your face. “I knew it was the one thing in that room you would miss,” he rumbled apologetically.

You reached for his hand, thumb running over the veins taut and thick on the back. “I hope this doesn’t mean I’ll be sleeping alone,” you whispered with a smile. Loki placed his mug on the side table, before reaching for the nightdress and placing it beside. “God forbid,” he growled. Loki pulled another errant strand of tinsel from his hair, making it vanish. Without breaking eye contact, he lowered you back on the mattress, the pad of one fingertip tracing down your cheekbone. Memorising it.

The way he was looking at you, the silence that hung where words should be. You knew which words they were. He was holding back, even now as he inhaled against your pulse-point. Holding back for you. As dark curls blanketed your vision, you thought of the excitement in his voice as the cunning plan was formed. Of the way his fists clenched as he silently cheered his brother on, how his face fell when he thought that it was all for naught. How his eyes had swum with joy as it all came together. Not for himself, but for them. And you thought of the smile on that little girl’s face, joyful in the midst of Christmas lights and magic that shouldn't be possible. But for her, and for you - with him...it was. Yes, you’d thought about that a lot. “I love you, Loki” you whispered slowly in his ear.

Loki’s kisses against your neck faltered. You heard a sigh rack his chest, breath hitching as his heart-beart quickened on top of your own. “Truly?” he murmured in response.

It was cautious, wary. His eyes came into view, concern clouding them. You slid a hand up his jaw, kissing him gently. “I love you,” you repeated solemnly. He pressed his forehead to yours, a choke of relieved laughter accompanying a long inhale of breath. “Gods,” he whispered on the exhale, “what have I done to deserve you?” “Everything,” you replied quietly. It was a truth.

He kissed you as though he was trying to absorb each atom of your breath, capture each flutter of the three words he’d longed to hear. As though they might vanish if he did not mark the moment with the seal of his touch. But they wouldn’t. You knew that now. How could they? “I love you,” he whispered back. And you believed him.

A/N: Thank you again so so so much for coming on this journey with me and the gang. I'm so happy with how this ended, even though the expansion was a bit unexpected(!) and I really hope you are too! Although the 'main' story is chapters 1-7, it felt like there was more to explore. Please let me know what you thought, any insights or additional HCs you have - they are always welcome ❤️ Tags

@lokischambermaid @meowmeow-motherfucker @gigglingtiggerv2 @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loopsisloops @glitchquake @holdmytesseract @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @fandxmslxt69 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @thenotoriouserg @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @joyful-enchantress @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @kellatron55 @mrs-illyrian-baby @icytrickster17 @muddyorbs @buttercupcookies-blog @goddessofwonderland

#the lakes #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki fanfiction #loki x female reader #loki fanfic #loki smut #loki fluff #loki odinson #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson fluff #loki marvel #loki imagine #loki x yn #loki x you #loki gif #loki series

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musicforastylesrestaurant · 10 months

Text

I Saw Mummy Kissing Santa Claus.

masterlist || ask me anything <3

my blurb masterlist is here!

authors note - i feel like this idea is really cute and just had to be written down:)

word count - 1.4k

in which, when you and harry are putting the christmas presents under the tree on christmas eve, with harry dressed up in a santa costume just for his own novelty, and share a little moment to themselves, unbeknownst to them that there four year old son arlo, was watching the whole time.

00:13am. 25th December, 2023.

On this whimsical Christmas Eve, the air is infused with the scent of pine and anticipation as you and your husband Harry, donned in a jolly Santa suit purely for his own delight, tiptoe around the cozy living room.

The soft glow of twinkling lights casts a warm ambiance, enveloping the space in a serene holiday magic.

Upstairs in the master bed, your precious four-year-old, Arlo, is lost in dreams of sugarplums and toy-filled wonderlands.

As his dreams weave their gentle tapestry, you and Harry share mischievous smiles, conspirators in the clandestine mission to deliver presents beneath the twinkling Christmas tree.

In the quietude of the night, laughter bubbles between you and Harry, a shared joy that needs no reason. Silently, you exchange glances, finding amusement in the simple joy of being together on this enchanting night. The muffled laughter dances in the air, a secret language spoken in the hushed tones of love.

The presents, adorned with festive paper and ribbons, find their places beneath the tree like treasures awaiting discovery. With each shared giggle, you and Harry weave invisible threads of happiness, wrapping the room in the warmth of familial love.

The task at hand becomes a delightful game of stealth and joy. Harry, in his Santa suit, moves with a festive grace, and you follow suit, your hearts synchronized in the shared delight of creating magic for Arlo. Laughter, sweet and spontaneous, becomes the soundtrack to this festive ballet.

Beside the twinkling evergreen, Arlo's offerings for Santa and his reindeer beckon: a plate adorned with mince pies and a bunch of crisp carrot for Rudolph.

Harry, ever the good sport in his Santa attire, merrily takes a bite of the sweet, spiced pie, savoring the festive flavor with genuine delight.

Meanwhile, you opt for the crunchy carrots, enjoying their crisp freshness. The contrast of flavours mirrors the yuletide spirit, blending the sweetness of the mince pies with the earthy simplicity of the carrots.

The pièce de résistance, however, is the offering of milk. Harry, with a theatrical flourish, lifts the glass to his lips, only to be met with a cringe as the chilly liquid meets his tongue. The milk, left out for Santa's refreshment, bears the unmistakable chill of a night spent waiting. The internal wince is evident on Harry's face, though he valiantly soldiers on, determined not to let a bit of cold milk dampen the festive mood.

As you stand in the hushed glow of the Christmas tree, satisfied smiles exchanged with Harry, a sense of completion washes over you. The presents are arranged, the festive treats enjoyed, and the world outside is wrapped in a blanket of silent snow. It feels like the perfect moment to retire to bed, where dreams of sugarplums can join the night's symphony.

But just as you entertain the idea of slipping under the warm covers, Harry, in his Santa suit, wraps his arms around your waist with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. His lips press gentle kisses against your neck, creating a trail of warmth that contrasts the cool air of the room. You can't help but laugh, a delighted sound that dances in the quietude.

"M’not quite ready f’bed yet," he murmurs against your neck, his breath sending shivers down your spine. "If I go now, I'll just get kicked in the back by ‘Lo, and I'll end up with no quilt."

The unexpected declaration sends a ripple of laughter through you, and you playfully turn around in his embrace. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you meet his gaze with a playful glint in your eyes.

"Well, we can't have that, can we?" you tease, your lips curving into a smile.

In the gentle dance of shared laughter and lingering gazes, you both revel in the magic of the moment. The Christmas lights cast a soft glow on Harry's face, accentuating the warmth in his eyes. His lips meet yours in a brief but tender kiss, a sweet punctuation to the unspoken joy that fills the room.

"M’suppose bedtime can wait a bit longer," he concedes, his arms tightening around you. "After all, who could resist the allure f’a quiet, magical Christmas night?"

In the gentle glow, Harry's eyes meet yours with a magnetic pull, and the world outside seems to vanish. His arms envelop you, creating an intimate cocoon that shields you from the outside world. The soft strains of holiday tunes linger, providing a subtle backdrop to the unspoken language of desire that fills the room.

The air is thick with a sweet tension as Harry's lips find yours in a series of passionate kisses, each one deepening the connection between you. Both of you smiling into each others mouths, your hands find the peach fuzz at the back of head neck, whilst his find habitat on the groove of your bum.

The room transforms into a haven of shared intimacy, where the only language spoken is that of desire, and every touch is a brushstroke in the masterpiece of this moment.

The heat of the moment intensifies as you lose yourselves in the magnetic pull of each other. The world outside continues its hushed existence, oblivious to the crescendo of emotions echoing within the room.

The bed, usually shared with the comforting presence of his parents, felt empty, and a sense of curiosity tugged at his tiny heart. Arlo, with his baby blanket in tow, embarked on a solo journey down the hallway.

The plush carpet beneath his little feet muffled his steps as he approached the top of the stairs. The house was still cloaked in the tranquillity of the evening, and Arlo, with wide eyes and tousled hair, peered down into the living room below.

A strange sound caught his attention, and he instinctively clutched his blanket a bit tighter.

At the bottom of the stairs, a tableau unfolded. His mother, adorned in her pajamas, was locked in an embrace with Santa Claus—or so it seemed. Arlo's innocent gaze widened, his imagination dancing with the possibility that Santa himself had arrived early to share a moment with his mom.

The festive glow of the Christmas tree provided an ethereal backdrop to the unexpected scene.

Unaware that the figure beneath the Santa suit was, in fact, his dad, Harry, Arlo continued to observe with a mixture of awe and confusion.

08:21am. 25th December, 2023.

The Christmas morning sun spilled into the kitchen, casting a golden hue on the day's festivities. As you walked in with Arlo nestled on your hip, the air buzzed with the promise of holiday magic.

However, a quiet tension lingered as Arlo, unusually reserved, gazed around the room with a mix of curiosity and uncertainty.

Harry, donned in a festive apron, stood at the stove, the sizzle of eggs providing a comforting backdrop to the scene. Arlo's silence persisted, his little mind undoubtedly preoccupied with the mysterious encounter from the previous night.

As you settled into the kitchen routine, the atmosphere held a subtle undercurrent of curiosity. Arlo's wide eyes shifted between you and Harry, his silence becoming a palpable presence in the room.

The bewilderment in his gaze hinted at the lingering confusion from witnessing the unexpected kiss with Santa Claus.

With each passing moment, the unspoken question hung in the air. Harry, flipping eggs with a practised ease, stole a glance at Arlo, sensing the inner turmoil of his young son. The parental instinct to reassure tugged at your heart as you navigated the morning, your steps mindful of the unspoken query hanging in the air.

After the hearty Christmas breakfast, Arlo, still harbouring the mystery from the previous night, toddled over to Harry.

His little arms reached up, a silent request to be lifted. Harry, ever the doting dad, scooped him up onto his hip, planting a cascade of playful kisses on Arlo's cheek. The room echoed with the sounds of affectionate giggles.

As Arlo settled into Harry's arms, he seemed to hesitate for a moment, glancing around to ensure that you were nowhere in sight. Satisfied that the conversation would be just between him and his dad, Arlo took a deep breath, his eyes serious.

"I have something to tell you, Daddy," Arlo announced in a hushed voice, leaning in as if sharing a grand secret.

Harry, playfully intrigued, raised an eyebrow and encouraged him to spill the beans.

With an air of importance, Arlo whispered, "I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus."

The words hung in the air, and a mischievous sparkle lit up his eyes. Harry's reaction, however, was unexpected.

A loud, hearty laugh erupted from Harry's chest, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Arlo, momentarily perplexed, couldn't help but join in the infectious laughter. Harry, wiping away an imaginary tear, managed to compose himself and leaned in with mock seriousness.

Harry brought his face closer to his mini-me and brought his voice to a quiet mock whisper.

“Tell m’more.”

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pursuitseternal · 9 months

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“A Yuletide Miracle:” Spawn!Astarion learns the (nsfw) meaning of the season, finding 🔥heat in the cold❄️

Spawn!Astarion x Reader | E | 3.4K

Part 1: “Yuletide in Faerûn”

Summary: A very “Grinchy,” cantankerous Astarion walks with you home on the eve of Yuletide, loathing the sights of celebration. Little does he know the surprise you have planned to make his heart grow three sizes that night, and well… other part of his undead anatomy…

Slightly inspired by “The Grinch” 🌟

CW: Cranky, festivity-hating Vampire Spawn, a Yuletide surprise that warms his undead heart, and helps him learn the true meaning of the season.

Read on Ao3 | Astarion fic Masterlist

🕯️🌟🕯️🌟🕯️🌟🕯️🌟🕯️🌟🕯️🌟🕯️🌟🕯️🌟🕯️

“I do not get it,” Astarion grumbles as you walk towards your flat in the lower city. Baldur’s Gate, blanketed in snow, crisp and pure and crunching under your boots as you return from your shopping. Night has fallen, the stars are bright. Voices fill the air with music from taverns and the scent of spices wafts on the breezes. It’s beautiful, this time of year. But the enterally handsome Vampire Spawn at your side couldn’t be more glower and glum. “I mean, I have every right to be merry and filled with cheer this time of year. The nights are longer, the days are darkened, it’s a Vampire Spawn’s paradise. But the rest of this… mirth…” he grimaces as you stroll, arm and arm, past a group of carolers serenading outside of the Elfsong. “They have no right or reason to be so chipper in the dark and cold.”

You give him a tug on his arm, a good-humored and disparaging glance from the side of your eye. “Come now, music and parties and warmth and gifts…. It’s Yuletide, my love. Surely even you would love to have people thinking about you and buying you gifts upon gifts?”

He falls silent. Tense. As you make the last turn towards your little home, you walk in the silence. Just a flat, but it’s yours. Yours for the last few months since your victory over the Netherbrain. This little gift from Wyll, new Duke of Baldur’s Gate, it’s your safe haven from the sun while you both settle yourselves to find him a cure… and while you fuck each others brains out like you’re still about to maybe die tomorrow.

Old habits die hard.

But as the winds whip around you, bitter and cold, you hide your frame behind his broad shoulders. He may be chilling to the touch and undead, but at least he can block the ice of winter. And it makes him scoff. “Really? Truly, you use me as a shield? Some partner, some selfless merry cheer you spread.”

You clutch your sack and the precious contents tighter against your body, keeping it warm and safe. “I told you, my little surprise for you can’t freeze. Else, our trip to the shops will all be for naught and you’ll get nothing for Yuletide, my love.”

You draw to a stop, huddled behind his back at your doorstep. You barely hear him mutter to himself over the icy wind and the snap of the key in the lock, “So like every other year…”

Words not meant for you to hear. But they pierce your heart more than the cold and ice.

You pause inside the door, shaking off your cloak from the piles of snow that have accumulated. “Why don’t you start the fire in the study? I’ll be in, just in a moment….”

He turns, leaving his own damp cloak a pile on the ground. Like always. Messy thing. “So you can finish readying your…” he scowls, bitterness behind those crimson eyes, “…surprise? Gods, I hope it’s not some cheesy Yuletide gift.”

“Would it be so unthoughtful of me to give my lover a little something tonight?” You smirk, hiding the little satchel behind your back. “It is the eve of Yule, after all.”

He sniffs in abject derision. “If you insist on wasting our gold on something so frivolous, who am I to stop you.” He closes in on you, making you retreat against the wall of the foyer. “Just don’t expect anything grand in return… well, unless you think what I give you on a nightly basis is grand enough.” He flashes those fangs at you, smirking with all that lust and seduction that makes your legs weak to feel him between your thighs.

You cough, clearing your voice and forcing a pout on your trembling lips. “You could at least put a bow on it?” You tease, making that hungry smirk widen.

“Cliché, but if that’s what gets you going this evening, who am I to judge?” he shrugs slowly, languorously, letting his hand slide from the wall beside your head, the other cupping around your chin to bring you in for a slow and tantalizing kiss.

You hold your breath, trying hard to remember to not drop your precious cargo. He departs, one last suck of your bottom lip between his until it releases with a pop. “Don’t you fret, I’ll get the study nice and warm for you… and your,” a frown turns at the corner of his mouth, “… supposed surprise.”

“Don’t you worry, I won’t overwhelm you with too much joy or peace or love,” you comment, interjecting as he opens his mouth, “and I’ll keep the costumes and singing to a minimum.”

His mouth snaps shut, disgusted beyond measure like he swallowed bile, “Gods… I swear… I am not in the mood… Keep your festivities to a minimum, and as for costumes, I’ll have you naked, preferably…”

He trods into the study. Grumpy, disgruntled. So easy to tease. But you keep it soft. Light hearted. Knowing there was more to his cold and cranky demeanor than just selfishness.

Your mind races… would a spawn of Cazador have even had anything for Yuletide?

You busy yourself, prepping your gift, tenderly setting it on a table. The little plant seems so unassuming, it makes you smile, knowing just what it will mean to him. At least you hope.

He’s been so sour about this time of year, and your heart aches, that one little moment, that clue as to why he might just hate Yuletide.

You ready the bottle from the Apothecary; the shining golden liquid inside warm to the touch as you carry both across the hall and into the study.

He waits, the fire cheerily roaring in the grate, but he stands across the room, in the shadows. His back towards you, you can feel his tension rolling off those bunching and lean muscles as he gazes out the window into the winter night. Arms folded neatly over his chest, you see him shift as he hears you enter, but he doesn’t turn.

You wait. You watch him shifting on his toes, eyes fixed into the dark distance. Until at last he speaks. “When I was… well, before…” he speaks quietly. Pressed. Careful not to mention any names, not that he needs to. “…Yuletide was just another night, another time sent out in our bodies for the bidding, another night spent luring victims, only one that smelled more like oranges and spice and smoke.” His shoulders hunched slightly, arms holding tighter as he hugged himself tighter. “I used to dream of gifts and punch and music. Instead I got only more shame and abuse and… loneliness…”

You move, setting your items down on the small end table before you hurry to his side, your arms wrapping around him tightly.

“Yuletide never came for me. I was always alone… and in darkness…”

“Yuletide doesn’t come in packages and ribbons and songs, Astarion,” you nuzzle your head into his chest. “And now you’ll never be alone again, my love,” you smile into the crushed softness of his doublet. “And… if you let me share my cliché gift with you… you might find yourself not in darkness any longer either…”

He eases in a split second. You look into his face, surprised and hopeful against his better judgment. “Really?” he stumbled on his words. “I -I mean I know about the not-lonely-anymore bit, thank you…”

He hesitates, crimson eyes darting to the corner of his gaze, wanting to see what you got him.

Then he sees it, turning. A little plant, leaves deepest green, a round, fleshy bud nestled in the verdant leaves. “Is that…?” he breathes.

“A Solaris,” you beam at him. “I had to pay that apothecary no small amount of coin to get it… not to mention I had to hustle his chief competitor a bit in order to really seal the deal.” You laugh at the way his face is just… innocent. Hopeful. Happy. “But for a flower that blooms with light and warmth like the sun, one day a year…”

You watch the corner of his mouth grin wistfully.

“…I figured it would make for a very merry Yule. So you could feel the light of the sun without… you know…”

“Roasting like a chestnut on an open fire?”

You giggle against the macabre image. “Yes, that.” You pick up the little vial, its golden glow pulsing. “Here,” you murmur, proffering the small glass bottle. “The key to unlocking your vampire-safe sunlight.” You reach it towards him, his palm opening, fingers unfurling for it.

“I…” he swallows. You watch his Adam's apple bob, emotional as he holds back so many feelings and words. “Thank you,” he finally relents, letting you place the vial in his cold and near-trembling palm. You watch his face, the little lines of his smile deepening as he holds the glass bottle, its warmth seeping into his chilled, undead skin.

“If it’s your first Yuletide gift in two-hundred years, I’m glad I can make it count,” you murmur, trying not to disturb the glow that seems to come from under his pale and lustrous skin.

“You’ve… found your way to… let me feel the sun again,” he smirks at you briefly, “if only for tonight.”

You simper, pouting your lips, catching his eyes with all the allure you can muster. “That’s the idea, my sweet vampire, to give you something because I love you.”

He closes the distance, eager, anxious. But you press the tips of your fingers on his lips. “Ah, ah,” you grin. “Don’t risk that elixir with one of your all-consuming, fang-filled kisses. Why don’t you… open your gift?”

For a moment, he looks nervous. Just the tip of his fang biting into his lower lip as he uncorks the glowing elixir. A slight, sweet scent fills your nose, it makes you thrill.

Almost as much as the childish smile dancing on his lips as he pours it at the base of the massive, rounded yellow bud.

Heat fills the air, a soft shimmering begins to stretch from the plant, until, petal by petal, it opens.

A ball of light perches in its center, pulsing and glowing and lighting up your study more than any fire ever could.

Light in the dark. The sun itself shining.

Astarion’s eyes are wide, his mouth open in shock. “It feels… so good,” he whispers, as if he is scared that the second he looks away, blinks his eyes, or moves it will disappear.

“It does, the sun itself for you to bask in for one day, my love…” you reply, crossing to close your window curtains, to keep the light for yourself. And because, your stomach flutters, you anticipate just what will come next. You turn, already undoing your own buttons of your tunic. Expecting him to already be naked, to be bathing his cold and pale skin in the light.

But he’s not.

He’s sitting on the settee, knees hugged tight into his chest. Just watching. Fixated on the swirling golden blossom on the table before him.

Grinning like a fool.

Still, you tug your shirt from over your head, and the Solaris’ light does warm your skin, feeling no different than the true sun. Slowly, you round to sit beside him, half naked and totally ignored in favor of your gift. But it doesn’t matter. You don’t mind. Not as you hear his little giggles in his throat, the little clenches of his body as he feels… giddy.

You scoot right beside him, the skin of your torso pressing into that linen shirt of his, and you feel him leaning back against you, his head tipping to rest on the top of yours.

His breath washes through your hair, that clean scent on his skin, always the same, always making your body hum with desire and awaken with love. Then you hear it, faintly, he hums a melody, the same carol you had heard outside the tavern. His voice is deep, sweet if imperfect. But it’s music to your ears. His arm reaches around you then, a slight jolt as he realizes he’s touching nothing but skin as he skates his fingers across your back and down your arm.

“Ahem,” he clears his throat, more sultry than surprised. “I do see you are taking full advantage of your own present, darling.”

“Maybe I’m just waiting for my own in exchange,” you simper and pout, your hand reaching to stroke up those sinews of his thigh.

His chuckle tickles the top of your head as he places a kiss there. “Well, if you don’t mind not having it wrapped in frills and ribbons, I suppose I could give it to you now, my love.”

“What need have I for ribbons when I can have you… taking me…. in the sunlight again?”

“Just like old times,” he purrs, a single hand reading around to slip into the band of your sensible breeches for winter. “It always was a pity I never got one last time with you, basking in the heat of your warm flesh and the light of the sun before that blessing of the tadpole disappeared.” He grins, fingers slipping down between your thighs, which you have already conveniently spread for him. “What a gift to share in it again, a true Yuletide miracle, my love.”

That cool touch pierces where you are hot and aching. Where you burn and blister with your own heat. A little moan escapes your lips, your hands shuffling off the thick material of your breeches, words pleading for more from Astarion. You stumble over your “P-please…” as you stand to let that fabric shuffle off your feet.

He’s just watching your writhe on his fingers, bathed in the light. Those crimson eyes unblinking and ravenous. “Feeling merry, are you?” he purrs. “Bursting with joy yet?” His voice is rife with that seduction and wicked bite that makes you instantly wetter.

“A little more effort, and I’m sure I’ll be louder than any of those drunken carolers,” you whimper, the brush of his hand unlacing his breeches presses against your mound and thigh, the pressure of his other fingers deep inside you, more numerous than before in your cunt, guiding you to straddle his lap.

You slide right over, hands braced on his shoulders, gripping into the decadently soft material of his tunic. It’s so calm, so bright, this magical sunlight on your bare back. Your hands ruck up his own shirt, an approving smirk dancing over his breathtaking face as you sweep it off his body in one pull.

The moan from his mouth, hanging slack as he feels the warmth and light on him again, it makes you quiver and thrill. “Gods,” he breathes, “to bask in the light again…” his voice is wet, thick with desire, with emotion. He shuts his eyes, head leaning back against the settee, hands finally tugging his breeches apart to let his cock free. You feel him, his hands lifting it from its confines, fingers silkenly stroking himself. A groan from your mouth, bemoaning that emptiness inside you, your own hand takes up the pressure he started to build.

“Tch,” he sucks his teeth, still reclining to savor the warmth of the light and the heat your folds on his lap, “you don’t lift a finger tonight for your own pleasure, my love.” He pulls your body flush against him, guiding his cock to run back and forth through your hot and dripping seam. Slowly, his hand presses at the top of your hip, letting your sink down just an inch or so over that blunt head. Then he sneaks you up, sliding away from your aching channel. “Perhaps I should have let you undo my laces, unwrap your present, as it were…” he shrugs, centering your body over that cool hard erection. “I can make it up to you in so many ways,” he growls happily into your lips, sucking them in to a long and tender kiss.

Your hands grip into his shoulders, his hold on your waist steadying you as he thrusts upwards. The fullness of him inside you at last, that stretching friction warms you more than the soft flow of light over your back. Eyes closing, you can almost imagine that little glad back in the Emerald Grove. That morning you woke, sore and tingling from the way you had joined for the first time.

That morning light that once warmed your bodies as you took in the sight of him completely, scars and all. That way your heart first went out to him…

But this, this is so much better. Melting as you bask not only in the heat that defies the dark and cold, but that thrumming seer of your love. His hands rock your hips, letting you shimmy and buck as he matches your every movement with those impeccable thrusts. His kiss dances with your lips, tongue taking yours in his hold, tangling and darting as you lose yourself in him.

Warm all over. Loved all over.

You feel his touch wandering, tracing to cup the swell of your ass, fingers gripping into your flesh with each ride you make on him.

And you know he is feeling that light, the same that caresses his face, illuminating those lines and freckles and ridges of cheekbone that steal your breath with their beauty every day. You break from his mouth to watch him, lips still twitching and slack as he pants and groans.

His eyelids lower, that veiled gaze watching the way your body bounces on his lap, his stare darting to watch where you take him all the way in. Where the increasingly wet slaps of your body echo to fill the little study. Where your own body burns like a furnace, fucked hard to scaling hot as your bliss blisters.

Back arching, hands clawing into the cool muscles of his shoulders, you let it all go, letting that heat on your back and the friction of his fucking wash through you, splitting you apart with your climax. His arms embrace you harder as you spasm, your hips rocking at random, your body bracing against his as your pleasure floods you and steals your every conscious thought. His muscles clench, his belly brushing against yours, his thighs beneath you hitching and tight. You feel him pulsing inside you, his voice resonating in one ear with his groans and sighs as he fills you. Your folds drenched with all the hot slick it can handle, pouring and puddling on his lap.

Vision blurring, you come to, bit by bit. Head resting on his shoulder, his own rasping, unsteady breath washing to cool the warm glow over your flesh, you nuzzle tightly against him.

And you realize, for once, his skin feels warm to the touch. Glowing and heated from the light before you and your love-making. The stillness breaks with a gentle sigh from his iron-wrought chest. Air whistles in your ear. “You win, darling,” he whispers as he places a kiss into the tumbled mess of your hair. “Yuletide can be… merry… blissful even,” he acknowledges, not a begrudging hint in his voice.

“Miracles happen, Yuletide magic in the air… I think your heart has grown three sizes tonight…” you giggle, raising your head, your cheeks flushed and body humming to feel him still inside you.

“I doubt it,” he smirks, rakish and mischievous, “but I do know of other bits of my anatomy that have had that benefit…” he grinds into you, dragging that still-throbbing cock of his around your walls. He gives you a rakish flash of his fangs before you swiftly find yourself laid out flat on your back, sprawled across the bed of the settee. The weight of his body crushes you into the soft velvet, and your body grows unbearable… hot, especially as he sucks your ear fully into his hungry mouth. He whispers, “And you say this Solaris blooms for a day… well then, darling.” He gives that wicked giggle, “you are about to have a night that is not so silent… if you know what I mean.”

“I count on it,” you purr back, lost in the brightness in his crimson eyes. “I want the most out of my gift, after all…”

🕯️🌟🕯️🌟🕯️🌟🕯️🌟🕯️🌟🕯️🌟🕯️🌟🕯️🌟🕯️

🕯️I hope I got all the tag requests, thank you all for the love. I can’t wait to see what you think, dear readers 💞

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labyrinth-runner · 9 months

Text

A Shire Yuletide

Summary: Reader accompanied the dwarves on the quest to retake their home and now its their first Yuletide after being home and they invited Thorin and his family for the holiday. Non-canon compliant in the sense that none of them died in BotFA. Happy Holidays folks

Pairing: Thorin x Gender Neutral reader.

Word Count:

It had been a long shot when you asked Gandalf to help you send Thorin your letter, and yet he'd came and the rest of his family were coming, too. Thorin had been the first to arrive, much to your delight, and the two of you had caught up on your friendship, picking up where you'd left off. The truth was that you missed Thorin, much more than a mere friend, but you couldn't tell him that. He didn't see you like that. No, you were just friends, trauma bonded over a fight for their mountain kingdom that'd left many of them wounded. He was missing this morning, a short note saying he was going to take a walk was resting on your nightstand along with a hot cup of cinnamon spice tea. He'd remembered. You had a laundry list of things to do to set up for the holiday festivities since you had both dwarves and hobbits to house and feed, so you quickly washed up and got to it.

You couldn't imagine what was going through his head as he came in to the kitchen. You knew you were a sight, your arms elbow deep in the mixing bowl, flour handprints down the front of your apron and even the side of your pants because honestly, you forgot you were wearing an apron 90 percent of the time. Your hair was in your eyes and falling out of the quick hairstyle you'd tossed it into to keep it out of the dough.

"What's all this?" Thorin asked from where he leaned against the doorway, gesturing to your general being.

"It's Yuletide baking," you said as if it should be obvious. "I have chocolate crinkles in the oven, gingerbread cooling on the rack, molasses dough in the fridge chilling--and no that is not the same thing as gingerbread even though they are VERY similar in ingredients-"

"And what are you currently making?" he asked, peeking over your shoulder into the bowl. His breath was hot on your neck and you shivered. When had he moved over here?

"Th-this is the experimental cookie," you said, your voice wavering from his proximity.

He chuckled, the sound low and deep in his throat. "And what is so experimental about it if you're following a recipe?"

"Well, the experiment isn't the cookie itself, you see, it's whether the family will like it. I've never made them before, and I've already botched it up by putting everything in the mixing bowl because I was tired and not quite paying attention to where it said mix the egg whites separately to form stiff peaks, like a meringue I'd guess, but..." you trailed off, realizing that you were rambling. "I'm sorry, I'm doing it again, aren't I?"

His brows furrowed. "Stop apologizing." He reached out to swipe some flour off your cheek, following through to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. The pad of his thumb was rough against your skin and you held your breath as his gaze roamed over your face. "Your hair will never stay back like that."

"I just needed it out of my face," you murmured.

"May I?" he asked.

You tilted your head at him. "May you...?"

"Take care of it for you."

You shrugged. "I'm fine with how it is, but if it bothers you that much, then sure."

He had a small smile that you saw out of the corner of your eye as he moved behind you. You felt a gentle tug before your hair was cascading down around your shoulders. His motions were so incredibly gentle, nothing at all like when your mother used to do your hair as a child. He was silent, focusing on your hair. A shiver went down your spine as his fingers grazed the back of your neck.

"Are you nervous?" you asked, trying to fill the silence. It weighed heavily, and you weren't quite sure why. Silence between you two had been mostly comfortable these days, but this silence was intense.

"About our families meeting? Should I be?"

You could practically hear the smirk in his voice. "Aunt Tilda is very... let's just say she doesn't always take to other's opinions. Cousin Mathilde will try to steal the cutlery. I'm more worried about how they'll be to your family. It's..." you trailed off, trying to pick up the thread again. "We're not very conventional."

"Perhaps hobbits and dwarves should mix more often. We're not that much different," he said, tying your braid with a ribbon. "There."

Your hand came up to stroke the tail of the braid hanging over your shoulder. "It's better than I could have done."

"Is there anything you need help with?" he asked, suddenly sounding unsure of himself. It was cute. "I may not be good at it, but my hands are yours."

"Can you put the kettle on? I'll finish this up and we can break for tea."

You could see the relief flood through him. "Cinnamon spice?"

"As much as that is my favorite tea, I think we should take the holiday blend out to make sure it's still good for tomorrow's breakfast. What time are your nephews getting here?"

Almost as if on cue, the door to your hobbit hole swung open nearly hitting the wall.

"Uncle Thorin! Your favorite nephew has arrived!" Kili called from the front hall.

"Yes, and thank you for the introduction, brother," Fili said.

Thorin sighed, but you caught the smile tugging at his lips as he went out to greet them. "You two better not be destroying the house. We are guests here."

You bit your lip. You knew he'd have to return to Erebor. That was his home, but still, part of you wondered if maybe, just maybe, he might find his home with you. You weren't fit to be anything resembling a ruler of the dwarves, that much you knew. You'd tried life under the mountain for a week after the battle had subsided and you waited for Thorin to recover. It was cold and not at all cozy. There was very little sunlight in most places, and everything echoed in the cavernous halls. You heard every groan of pain he made from down the hall, and you got little sleep worrying about whether he'd recover. But he had. He was almost completely himself, aside from the slight limp he had, but even that seemed to be getting better. You'd returned home fairly soon after his fever broke. There hadn't been a place for you in his court, and you knew it.

Peeking around the corner, you spied on the three of them hugging each other, a clap on the back and a good natured laugh as they caught up. You wondered if Thorin felt as out of place here in your home as you did in his.

Kill saw you first, coming over and hugging you so hard your feet left the ground. "Madtubirzul! It's been too long."

"Thank you for inviting us," Fili added, presenting you with a bouquet of flowers that looked an awful lot like the flowers from your neighbor's winter garden.

"Please, you are all doing me the favor of taking the attention off of me," you replied, taking the proffered flowers. "They won't stop asking me about my time under the mountain and I just want a relaxing holiday."

You pulled out a vase for the flowers, setting them on the table in the dining room. "You can put your things in the second bedroom on the left. Dwarves on the left, hobbits on the right."

"And where's Uncle Thorin sleeping?" Kill asked, elbowing his Uncle.

"On the left with the rest of you sorry lot," he said, smacking Kili's hand away.

"Well, I'll let you boys settle in," you murmured, returning to your baking.

The sound of the kettle pulled you out of your baking trance, You wiped your brow with your sleeve. Thorin pulled the kettle off the stove and began to prepare the teapot as you put your last tray of cookies on the cooling rack.

He handed you a cup, expecting you to sit with the rest of them at the table, but instead you walked outside, choosing to sit down in the grass. It was cool, and you needed the break from the heat of the oven. You rested the teacup on your knee as you laid back into the grass and shut your eyes just for a moment.

"Lanselê," Thorin murmured, taking the cup of tea off your knee.

You opened your eyes, realizing with a start that you'd fallen asleep. "Butter and biscuits!" you cursed. "How long was I out for?"

"An hour," he replied.

You dug the heels of your hands into your eyes. "Well now my schedule is all out the window. I won't get anything done in time."

"You have three able-bodied dwarves in your home. Put us to work."

"Thorin, you are my guests, I cannot ask you to do things," you groaned.

"I'm more than just a guest," he said, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

"You're right, you're a King. I really can't ask you to do domestic chores," you replied, standing up and brushing off your pants.

"That's not what I meant."

Your brow furrowed. "Thorin, I don't really have time in my already ruined schedule to argue semantics." You marched back into your kitchen and began to pull out the goose and start to brine it so that you could cook it the next morning.

Kili was the first to pop into the war zone that was the kitchen. "Can I help with anything?"

"Want to peel some potatoes?" you asked, pushing the bucket of potatoes and peeling knife towards him.

He nodded and got to work, his eyes flicking to you every couple of seconds.

"What?" you snapped.

"Your braid," he said.

"Thorin did it for me earlier."

"And the bead on the ribbon?"

"What be-" you looked down to see a small wooden bead that the ribbon had been strung through. It had a wide, ornate, almost X shape carved into it.

Kill laughed from where he sat on a stool peeling. "You have no idea what that means, do you?"

"Should I?" you raised a brow at him.

Kili shrugged. "If I were going to braid your hair I'd at least would have told you the importance of it first. That's what I did with Tauriel."

You narrowed your eyes at him, pulling your arm out of the goose's carcass. You washed your hands, wiping them on your apron to dry them. Thinking better of it, you removed your apron and left it on the kitchen table before stomping off to find a dwarf.

He was in your library, sitting at your desk. Reading YOUR book manuscript.

"Do you normally read other people's things? I don't know how you do things in Erebor, but you aren't under the mountain anymore," you snapped.

His eyes flicked up to you. He held the book up, waving it towards you. "Is this how you see me?"

"What are you talking about?"

He opened the book to the page he was on and began to read, "There were a gaggle of dwarves in my home, but then one arrived unlike any I had ever seen before. He was incredibly handsome, but his eyes were ice."

"Well, you didn't make a very good first impression," you grumbled.

Thorin began to get up.

"Thorin," you pleaded.

With a sigh, he sat back down.

You took a tentative step towards him. "What does this bead mean?"

He blushed and looked out your window. "It's just a bead."

"Kill doesn't seem to think so."

He muttered something under his breath.

"Thorin," you said, sitting on your desk. "Why did you come?"

"Because you invited me." He looked up at you, his eyes tired. You hadn't noticed it since he'd gotten there, or maybe you had but you'd just explained it away with the fact that you just hadn't seen him in a while and people change. "Why did you invite me?"

"Because I missed you," you admitted.

"We wrote all the time, but its not the same, is it?" he said, placing a hand on your knee.

You placed your hand on top of his. "Stay."

"What?" he asked.

"Are you happy as King Under the Mountain?" you asked. "Because... I think that you've seen too much of the world to be content to hide away in a cave again. I think that it's nice to know that you have a home to go back to..." you took a deep breath to choose your next words very carefully. You stroked your thumb along the side of his hand. "But I don't think home has ever been a place for you, has it?"

"It can be a very lonely mountain," he murmured, squeezing your knee.

"So stay," you begged.

"I can't. I have to take care of my people."

"But who will take care of you?" you turned a critical eye on him, taking in everything about his appearance. "You look exhausted. You've lost weight. You didn't reply to me for months. I'm worried about you."

"You don't have to worry about me," he said, a slight edge to his voice.

"But I do!" You grabbed his shoulders and shook him. "Listen, you stubborn dwarf, you need to take care of yourself, and sometimes what you think you wanted isn't what you actually want once you get it."

"What could you possibly know about that?"

"Everything!" You stood, exasperated. You were crying tears of frustration at this point. "All I wanted to do was get home and now that I'm home, all I want is to be with you."

Thorin stood and cupped your cheeks in his hands, brushing the tears off them.

"Stop comforting me when I'm cross with you," you sniffed.

He rested his forehead against yours. "Dwarves braid the hair of their consort."

You rested your hands on his chest. "By hobbit standards, we've been courting since you all asked me to go on the longest walk of my life."

Leaning forward, you kissed him. It was soft at first, as if he was afraid that you'd pull back and regret it. When you didn't, he slanted his mouth against yours and sunk his fingers into the base of the braid at your neck, wrapping his arm around your back and pulling you flush against him. He had lost weight, but he was still so strong under your hands. You kissed him back, running your tongue over his bottom lip. He grunted against your mouth.

Incessant knocks sounded at the front door and you reluctantly pulled back, a slight grimace on your face. "That would be the hobbits."

"Well, I guess I should meet my future family," Thorin said with a grin.

"I never said yes," you replied.

He deflated a bit.

"But you also never asked," you said pointedly. You paused in the doorway. "Tomorrow, after dinner, let's go for a walk."

Thorin smiled. "A walk would be great."

#thorin oakenshield #thorin x reader #thorn oakenshield x reader

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writingjourney · 2 years

Text

5 types of christmas kisses with copia (+1) | cardinal copia x reader

summary: you and the cardinal have been tiptoeing around each other for a while now – it’s time to let the festive spirit do the rest.

content: ~8k words, absolute fluff, like… tooth-rotting fluff with festive sprinkles on top, fem!reader bc I used the female declinations for the Italian, it's not over the top christmassy

(And yes it’s 5 kissy kisses – on the mouth. The rest is for FREE!)

Have yourselves a merry little Christmas fic ♡

Ao3 link – Masterlist

1 The First Kiss

The abbey is empty.

Well, technically that is a lie. But it feels empty. Yuletide approached fast this year. Half the siblings have left to visit family or friends and join their loved ones in their celebrations, whatever that may look like for them. Of course there are still many people here who choose not to see their families, who don’t have safe spaces outside of the abbey or who just want to celebrate here. Nevertheless, the halls are never as empty as during this time of year.

It’s a peaceful, pensive sort of quiet and, for the most part, you adore it.

Strolling through the corridors of the old building you shiver whenever a chill draught hits you. You can’t wait to reach the reading room, plop down in front of the fireplace and continue your read of Emma. Ever since the cold set in you’re beginning to understand Mr Woodhouse – avoiding to get a cold in an old stone building seems to be an impossible feat, runny noses and scratchy throats a constant nuisance. On your way past the library you barely hear a sound. Some Siblings are still bustling about outside, setting up stalls for the upcoming Winter Market, celebrating the Solstice with music, hot drinks and sweet treats.

You open the door to your favorite reading room but instead of the usual quiet you’re met with an already crackling fire and a familiar figure perched in the old leather armchair right in front of it. The other tables and chairs in the room are deserted.

“Oh.” The sound is involuntary. You did not expect to see the Cardinal tonight and suddenly you feel not only very self-conscious but a little overwhelmed by the sudden influx of emotions his presence is causing you.

„Sister,“ he says, startled, looking up from the book in his hands.

„I’m so sorry… I didn’t think anyone would be here.“

“Oh, don’t be. There is enough room for us both in here, eh? Come sit by the fire with me. We have not seen each other today.”

As you step closer he makes to stand and you just know he’s going to offer you the armchair, the only properly comfortable reading spot in the room. You could not accept it, not when he was here first, when sitting on the floor would cause him so much more discomfort than you. “Please, stay seated, Cardinal. I will just sit down right beside you on the carpet.”

“No, no, I cannot–”

“Please,” you try again. “I actually prefer being closer to the fire and the carpet is soft.”

The reluctance doesn’t leave his face as he sits back, watches you crouching down next to him. You let the warmth of the fire seep into you as you lean against the armchair and after another few seconds you rest your head against the Cardinal’s knee.

“Are you sure this is okay, sister?”

“It’s perfectly fine, don’t worry.”

You open your book, finally start reading as you continue to slowly defrost. After a few minutes you’re completely comfortable, lost somewhere in Highbury with Emma and Harriet. You aren’t wearing your head piece today, having opted for a proper hat when you were working outside in the cold earlier. So you’re somewhat caught by surprise when you suddenly feel a hand in your hair. An ungloved hand. The Cardinal doesn’t say anything, just runs his fingers through the strands with utmost care.

You turn to him and when his eyes meet yours he looks as though he only just realised that he did it, a tinge of red crawling up his neck.

“Oh, uh… mi scusi tanto,” he says, voice slightly shaky. “I mean, I didn’t… there was a stray hair…”

You swear your cheeks are the color of his crimson cassock. “It’s… it’s okay, it felt nice.”

“It did?”

“Yes. Very.”

He nods, lips tightly pressed together but you see them trembling anyway. You force yourself to look back at your book, scared that you embarrassed him, but then his hand finds back into your hair and he continues scratching your scalp very gently. You wonder if your hair is soft, if it feels nice against his bare fingertips and, more worryingly, if he can somehow feel your rapid heartbeat. Needless to say you can’t focus on Jane Austen for the life of you, not when you have your very own romantic hero right beside you, giving you the goosebumps of a lifetime.

“Cara,” he says after a while.

“Hm?”

You look up at him, only to find him observing you with his mismatched eyes, a warm tint to both of them as they reflect the orange light of the fire. “I don’t know about you but I don’t think I can focus on reading right now. I think I would rather talk with you.”

He must have seen that you didn’t flip the page, you realise. Did he flip his? Before you can find an answer he slides down the armchair, plopping down right next to you on the floor. Your breath catches, rendering you speechless. His face is now so close to yours that you can count each individual freckle and it’s so tempting to stare. He is so very handsome, so stunningly beautiful.

“I am glad we always seem to find each other,” he says. “Even without trying.”

You smile. “I agree, Cardinal.”

“I told you to call me Copia, when we’re alone, cara mia.”

“I’m sorry, I keep forgetting.” You chuckle, trying not to stare at him too hard. “Are you looking forward to the Solstice, Copia?”

“Sì, sì, very much. Are you?”

You relish in the way he clings to your every word, the way he will always return the question, coax more words out of you just to hear you talk. This is not the first time you’re alone with him – by now you like to think of him as something of close friend, even though it’s not the right word at all. For the past few months encounters like this one have been a regular occurrence – reading together in the library, finding into easy-going conversations about your respective days, little chats in his office here and there after you dropped of some documents for him, sometimes even eating dinner together in the refectory when he was not too busy. Most of the time you just naturally gravitated towards each other, even without planning your meetings.

“I am looking forward to it very much,” you reply, barely hiding your excitement. “I can’t wait to have some mulled wine and candy and just watch everyone be happy.”

There is always this magnetic pull you feel in his proximity – every eye contact, every touch, no matter how innocent, accompanied by a vivid sense of longing for him. You can’t deny that you’re harbouring an intense crush. It’s the very reason why the word friend is such an ill fit. He is so much more.

“That is what I look forward to as well,” he agrees, just as unable to look away. “I especially hope to see you happy, cara mia.”

You’re cheeks are burning, from the fire or your blush or maybe even both. “Do you?”

He only nods, caught in a similar fluster. The ungloved hand you felt in your hair earlier now reaches for your face. You almost expect to feel a chill, but his skin is warm, soft fingertips gliding over your face, mapping it, tracing every curve like you’re a statue and he’s the sculptor.

This time you can’t fight the pull, but you get caught up in its currents. You lean in and he does the same and then your mouths meet somewhere in the middle.

It’s a little awkward at first. You go in with too little and he goes in with too much pressure and your noses bump against each other twice when you attempt to adjust. It quickly evens out, his fingers find your jaw, angling your face just right, and then suddenly it’s all warmth and whimpers. His mouth moves against yours gently, his moustache tickling your upper lip. You don’t even care that you’re losing your page as the book slides from your lap, your whole body angling towards his.

It isn’t the passionate, fiery kind of first kiss that you always imagine late at night when you’re so filled with longing for him that it hurts. It’s the kind of first kiss you imagine when you see him somewhere around the abbey, when the mere sight of him knocks the wind out of you, when you struggle to form words in his proximity, still in hopes that something might happen.

When he lets you go you take a shaky breath. You let your suddenly very heavy body fall against the armchair, covering half of your crimson face with your arm, a stupid smile on your face. Copia still looks at you, inhales deeply with a similar sort of smile on his lips. You continue to sit there, grinning at each other with not a single word uttered, the crackling of the fire the only sound in the room.

2 The Comforting Kiss

No matter how happy you are to be here at the abbey, to have found a home, Winter is always a particularly heavy time. Grief gnaws its way into your heart, not just for the people you lost but for long abandoned parts of yourself. It’s a weighty sense of loss for everything that you can never get back, a bittersweet melancholy that is woven through every occurring thought.

At the same time, and not less intensely, you feel grateful for the people you found here – friends and mentors. And… lovers. A lover. Perhaps, if things go well.

The Cardinal treats you like gold dust, like you’re so precious he needs to tread lightly, and you love that mindfulness about him. But it also means he’s been taking things awfully slow. Ever since your first kiss in the reading room not much has happened – at least no more kisses. You met, you spend time together, but you can’t call it dating. There has not been a proper date, no spoken agreement that this is what you’re doing. You’ve exchanged soft touches and whispered words of mutual adoration. No big words, just small, gentle affirmations – a “You look beautiful today” here, an “I’ve been looking forward to seeing you all day” there. They don’t blare out your affection for each other, but they whisper softly. And it makes you more in love with him every single day.

If only you knew if he felt the same way or if his hesitation stems from uncertainty.

“You are lost in thoughts today, mia bambina.”

You look up at Primo’s face, meeting his worried expression with a gentle smile. “I’m sorry, Papa. I suppose I am a little distracted.”

“It wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain… Cardinale… would it?”

There is no fooling him, by now he knows you too well from working in the gardens all spring and summer. “He… may be one of the reasons.”

You’re helping Primo with decorating some of the trees today and it’s a welcome distraction from your more melancholic thoughts. Christmas, Yule, the Winter Solstice celebration – whatever you choose to call it – is kept very neutral here. Anyone is welcome to make propositions, to bring in the customs and traditions that they most cherish, and make them their own. You asked Primo about decorating the trees with lights and a few ornaments made by crafty siblings. It’s an easy way to light up the grounds for the upcoming Winter Market and make it all so much prettier.

“Speaking of your amore…”

“Oh he’s not my–“

You stop as you spot the Cardinal, trailing the familiar shape of his body all the way from the abbey to the entrance of the gardens. He’s clearly on a mission, determined movements, a brisk sort of walk, and... Oh Satan, is he looking for you?

All it takes is Primo yelling Cardinale! for him to whip around, facing your direction. He waves as he spots you, a little awkwardly, like he’s scared you won’t wave back. But of course you do and his hand gets steadier as he shakes it two more times, a timid smile on his handsome face.

“I will leave you to it,” Primo says with a knowing look and you smile as he carefully makes his way back inside. He greets the Cardinal in passing who half-bows in return and they exchange a few words in Italian that you don’t quite catch. You use the time to smooth out your hair, clean your palms on the dark wool of your coat.

When the Cardinal finally approaches, his red cassock is a bright contrast to the shiny white snow all around you. He’s wearing a matching robe on top, for more warmth.

“Hi, hello,” he says. Then he takes your hand in both of his, shaking it delicately. “Good to see you.”

You smile at him. “It’s so good to see you, too. I’m sorry I’ve been so busy all day.”

“Oh no need to be sorry.” He glances around. “The… uh… the trees, they look very beautiful.”

You can’t help but beam at him. “Thank you, we spent all day decorating them.”

He smiles affectionately, hand still clasping yours, but then he suddenly frowns and takes off one of his gloves. Your heart stutters at the skin contact, at the contrast between his warmth and your cold. Not that he notices your reaction. “Your hand is freezing, cara mia.”

“Oh, it’s fine, I had gloves but I took them off because they bothered me.”

He tsks, shaking his head in mild scorn. “Where are these gloves you speak of?”

“I think I left them… ugh…” You look around. “Maybe at the entrance gate?”

“That won’t do, no.” He shakes his head again, more rapidly this time. “I can’t have your pretty hands freezing off.”

Pretty hands? You can’t dwell on his words because he’s already yanking his second glove off his hand. In contrast to these harsh movements he is so heartbreakingly gentle as he slides them onto your hands, carefully fiddling with your fingers until they’re all covered in warm leather.

“There, così va molto meglio.”

“But now your hands will be cold, Cardinal,” you argue.

“Copia,” he corrects. “And I don’t mind. I spent all day inside, you need them more. Are you very cold?”

“A little, but I like the fresh air,” you admit. “Do you want to walk with me before we go inside?”

He nods, following you down the path to the pond. Even from a distance it looks magical, covered in ice crystals and snow. The grounds look like they’re straight out of a fairytale and a few minutes into your walk it starts snowing again.

There is an easy silence between you and Copia as you take in the sight, your steps crunching in the snow covered path. The sun is already setting and you realise that yet another day has passed. The Solstice is almost upon you and then it’s almost New Year’s Eve and you’re starting to wonder how you ended up where you are now. The underlying melancholia is flaring up, all the pain you tried to push away settling in, and your heart sits heavy in your chest. The cold seeps into you, chilling you to your bones.

“Cara,” Copia says, breaking your trance.

You look at him, realise you stopped walking. “Oh.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, it’s just…”

You never finish because you’re suddenly busy fighting back tears. You’re not even sure what set it off, why you have to be overwhelmed by your feelings now, when you’re supposed to be overjoyed to be on a walk with your Cardinal. The tears decide to leave your eyes despite your best efforts, rolling down your cheeks in hot, painful trails.

Copia’s eyes widen. “Oh, no no no, non ti posso vedere in lacrime, cara mia.”

His bare hands shoot up to your cheeks and they’re freezing as he cradles your face, thumbs moving in frantic half-circles like wipers on a windshield, trying to catch them before they fall. The snow comes heavier now, thick snowflakes mixing in with your tears as they land on your burning skin.

“Sorry,” you mumble, sniffling. “It’s just a lot.”

“I understand.” He gives you a reassuring smile. “Don’t apologise.”

You let him wipe your face clean, his fingertips now not quite so cold anymore.

“Can I…”

You don’t know what he’s asking but nod anyway, desperate for any comfort he’s so eager to provide. Copia kisses your cheeks and you breathe out a sigh at how soft he is, cling to whatever piece of fabric you can reach on his chest. The kisses come in abundance, covering every inch of skin within reach. He moves from your outer cheeks to your nose, so many kisses, lasting for mere seconds while the imprints linger on your skin for way longer. Eventually, he reaches the corners of your mouth and you’re silently praying for him to properly kiss you.

And he answers your prayer. The last kiss finally lands on your lips only that he pulls away just as fast. You feel his warm breath against your skin as he lingers, silently awaits your complaints. When there aren’t any he leans in again, harder this time. Your lips are chapped from being out in the cold all day and yet he kisses them like they’re made of honey, moving his own against them in a languid, careful rhythm. And while your heart is hammering in your ribcage, harder than ever before, your mind is suddenly calm.

Maybe this time of year is not so bad if it means you get to taste snowflakes on Copia’s lips.

When he pulls away, flustered and breathless, he stammers out a whole speech. “I’ve been thinking… I know you are excited for the market, sì? I thought it was a good idea… I mean, only if you don’t have any plans, I thought we could go together?” His eyes are filled with a hesitant hope and you know he’s ready to be rejected, to be laughed at even. “I know maybe you want to go with friends. You have plans already. I understand, of course.”

“No, no.” You smile at him, running your hand up his chest. “I would love to go with you, Copia.”

His whole face lights up. His nose and ears are red from the cold, heavy snowflakes caught in his hair, melting on his lashes and eyebrows, and he looks so adorably sweet, so genuinely happy, that you move in again to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. After you let go he looks more flustered than ever and when you slide your fingers into his, hiding your joined hands in the warmth of your coat pocket, he stumbles after you without a word.

3 The Tipsy Kiss

The abbey is brimming over with mirth, the courtyard filled with festive cheer and drunk laughter – and you? You have swallowed a whole swarm of bees as it seems – caught somewhere between the great happiness and the imminent panic that come with a first date.

Is it even a date?

When the Cardinal picked you up earlier, punctual to the minute, he held a small bouquet of white heathers, some greenery and two bright red roses for you. He must have asked Primo for help because you know the roses were cut from the greenhouse, that this type of floristry is unique to the eldest Emeritus. That the Cardinal would go to such lengths just to surprise you indicates heavily that this is a date, right? The flowers are waiting in your bedroom now and you already know the whole room is going to smell so nice when you get back later.

“Do you want to have a look around?”

You turn to Copia, watch him observe the crowd of people gathered in the courtyard. The market is open for the locals as well – not that too many of them find their way here – and so it’s a busy festival, a night filled with so much potential.

Guiding you into the action, Copia takes your hand. You’re both wearing gloves, no actual skin contact, but it makes your insides tingly all the same.

You try not to freak out internally – and fail miserably.

Holding the Cardinal’s hand in public is not a small thing, it is in fact a very big thing. You already notice the curious glances of a few siblings, whispering or even just blatantly staring. When you pass by some of your friends who are vaguely aware of you infatuation with the Cardinal, one of them gives you a wink, followed by a very distinct hand gesture that you meet with a scowl.

“Are you alright?” Copia asks immediately.

“What?” You look at him, his brows knit together in worry.

“Should I… should I not… uh… hold your hand?”

“Of course you should! I’m sorry, it was just… ugh… my friends.” You’re rambling and he’s still frowning. “I like it, I don’t mind people looking. What I’m saying is – please, don’t let go of my hand.”

The confusion is written all over his face but he nods, squeezes your fingers through the layers of knitwear and leather between you. The gesture immediately calms you down. The last thing you want is for him to think you’re embarrassed or ashamed.

“We should get something to drink, sì?” he asks, perceiving your feelings. “To relax?”

“Yes!”

He smiles, pulling you to the nearest stall that sells all kinds of hot beverages – Glühwein, Glögg, cider, hot chocolate, different kinds of teas and coffee.

You get a steaming mug with the most aromatic mulled wine you ever had, the scent of cinnamon and clove almost overpowering, and then watch Copia struggle to choose for himself.

“The mulled white wine is supposed to be really good, too,” you recommend. “I think they used Italian wine.”

Copia takes your word for it and then you find a small bar table by the side, covered in fresh snowflakes. You really want to hold your mug with both hands so you won’t spill the wine all over your coat, but the prospect of letting his hand go is ghastly. Instead you choose to take the tiniest sips imaginable.

“Do you want to try?”

The words break your sharp focus on not spilling anything and you realise he means his own wine. It’s such an unexpected question, a thing that people do who are very close, proper couples, and you wonder if that is where you are headed now. If he thinks of you like that, if he wants to be that. Maybe that is why tasting his wine feels weirdly intimate – but of course you want to. Not for the taste but for the sake of drinking from the same cup, to feel closer to him in any way that you can, to share with each other.

“It’s really good,” you say, holding out your own cup for him.

It is kind of surreal to watch him take a sip from the exact side that you were drinking from earlier, not worried about germs, no hesitation. Of course you have kissed before, there is no need for this to feel so special.

And yet it does.

“You said you helped prepare, sì?” he asks. “With the food and drinks?”

“Yes, I helped out in the kitchens this morning.”

“So what did you make?”

You raise your brows. “Oh, I made the candied almonds.”

He doesn’t even wait for you to say anything else, just pulls you towards the candy stall right next to your table. The almonds come in small paper cones, still warm and smelling like a saccharine dream. Despite spending all morning preparing them you’re still not tired of their sweet aroma.

He tries them, giving a pleasured sigh that gives you goosebumps. Then he makes the gesture to show that he’s taking his hat off to you. “Dolcezza, they are exquisite.”

You giggle. “Really?”

He takes another handful. “Assoluto. They tickle my taste buds.”

“Maybe it’s because I made them with so much love.”

Copia stops for a second, gazing at you with warm adoration in his eyes. “I am starting to think that all you do is made with love.”

He’s not wrong about it, not since you started spending time with him. And today is so special. You don’t even remember when you last felt so frisky, so unbothered by anything and just happy in the moment. You continue making your round, trying out the different beverages and foods, to the point where you’re not only a little drunk but also high on sugar, laughing together, giggling over silly jokes, and never once letting go of each other’s hands.

A cold wind sets in after a while, somehow clawing its way under all the layers of your clothing. You’re tipsy, maybe even a little needy, so you press yourself into Copia’s side in a half hug, eagerly absorbing his warmth. He feels so solid against you, the smell of cologne and incense and spices lulling you in.

“Are you tired?” Copia asks, wrapping his arm around your shivering form.

“A little,” you admit.

“Let me walk you to your room, cara mia,” he whispers.

“We can stay longer if you want to.”

He shakes his head, squeezing you to his side. “I want to see you safe in your room, eh? That’s what I want.”

Reluctantly you let him lead you back inside, still safely tucked against him. You forgot how many drinks you had but you’re starting to feel their effects now. Your legs feel leaden, every step harder than the previous one all while you continuously fight the urge to giggle every few seconds. You’re not drunk, you tell yourself, you’re very sober and very normal.

Eventually, you arrive in front of your door. Suddenly you’re aware that this means goodbye and you’re not ready at all to let Copia go yet. You let your back fall against the closed door, fiddling with your gloves as you try to read his expression.

He’s tipsy as well, swaying the tiniest bit as he stands in front of you, watching you with his black-rimmed, mismatched eyes. But they’re not dark, not scary, they’re wide and questioning, anticipating your next move.

You both know you’re standing on the precipice, heading somewhere, but the specific destination is yet to be spoken. And you can’t jump until you know.

“So was this… a date, then?” you ask, wine-drunk and giddy and not at all concerned with your bluntness. It’s the question you’ve been mulling over all night.

His eyes widen. “Was it… a date?”

“Mhm.”

“I– ugh…” He pauses, lips pursed. “Do you want it to be?”

“Copia, what do you think?” You can’t help but smile, giggle, bite your lip to keep from full on laughing. “Yes.”

“Yes,” he mimics, staring at your mouth without even hiding it. “Our first date?”

“The very first.”

“Did you like it?” His eyes are still trained on your mouth, on your smile. “Our first date?”

“I loved it.”

“Oh.”

“Copia.”

“Yes, that’s me.”

You giggle again. “You’re so pretty.”

“I’m pretty?”

You remove your gloves, push them into your pocket so you have your hands free. Then you trace the line of his jaw, run your thumb over his left sideburn. “So pretty. Beautiful, even. I can never stop looking at you.”

He’s inching closer, not once glancing away from your lips. “I am nothing compared to you, cara. You are the stars in the sky, you are the sun shining your light on me.”

“Copia–“

Searching hands find your waist, pulling you to him. He inhales, shudders, his voice pleading. “Can I kiss you goodnight?”

Your heart explodes, fireworks spreading out in your body at the sheer prospect of it, only intensified by the lingering buzz of the wine. “Yes, please.”

Not a second of hesitation. He hits somewhere close to the corner of your mouth, correcting his position with a few more misplaced kisses until he fully captures your lips, kissing you with reckless abandon. You pull him in, fingers tangling in his hair, and he lets out a pleasured moan, deepening the kiss. It’s the first time you open your mouth for him, the first time he uses the chance to taste you, allowing you to taste him in return. The sweetness of the almonds still linger on his tongue. It’s intoxicating. Your mind is veiled in clouds of lust and affection, a sugary high unrivalled by any actual candy.

You lose track of time. He leans into you, basically caging you against the door, and you kiss for what feels like eternity constrained to seconds. Your dulled senses are completely captured by him and when he eventually breaks away you need a moment to reorient yourself.

“We should… uhm…” His mind clearly stumbles over his words just like yours struggles to understand what he’s saying. Eventually he licks his lips and sighs. “Merda, ti voglio così tanto.”

Still breathless, you only gape at his mouth. His lips are red, plump bottom lip wet and swollen and you’re so kiss-drunk, so desperate for more. But you’re also dizzy and you know it’s not a good idea to continue any of this while you’re both tipsy.

He’s not asking to come in, of course, he would never, not unless you were completely sober. So he pulls you in for a full hug, presses his face into the crook of your neck as he squeezes your body. You can feel him all over you, but there is too much thick, woolen fabric between you to make out the proper shape of his body.

“Good night,” he mumbles against your skin. “Sleep well, mia bella. I will see you tomorrow.”

“I had the best night, Copia. Thank you.”

“Me too, cara mia.” He breaks away, crooked smile on his lips. “You are… you are all I could ever ask for. Perfetta.”

It takes you a few more minutes to finally let go of each other and even then he waves at you as he retreats, almost falling down the stairs that lead to the sibling’s dorms. But you can’t bring yourself to close the door before he’s out of sight and once you do you already miss him.

Fifteen minutes later you’re showered and ready for bed, barely functioning anymore. Opening your bedroom door you’re hit with the scent of roses, the intensely vivid fragrance that only Primo’s flowers carry. When you pull the covers over your head, a cosy warmth blossoms in your chest, and you can’t help but let out an excited little squeal.

He makes you so incredibly happy.

4 The Mistletoe Kiss

Groaning under their weight, you carry two boxes of decorations all the way down the hall, almost stumbling around a corner. You set them down right next to the door that indicates you’ve reached your destination – Copia’s office.

You pause. There is music, the notes pouring out of the gap under the door. For a moment you press your ear to its wooden surface. It just wasn't the same, alone on Christmas day. Presents, what a beautiful sight, don′t mean a thing if you ain't holding me tight. You′re all that I need, underneath the tree. Kelly Clarkson? You realise he’s listening to Christmas music and your heart does a double take. Here’s the man you’re in love with, a Satanic Cardinal preaching the Olde One’s gospel, humming along to christmassy pop songs as he does his unholy paper work. How could you not fall for him?

The song fades out and the next thing you hear is Mariah Carey’s drawl. You decide to knock before anyone catches you eavesdropping, but you don’t get an answer. He clearly doesn’t hear you over the music, so you opt to just let yourself in, grabbing the first of the two boxes.

You kick the door open to avoid dropping it. “Good morning.”

Copia jumps in his chair, pressing the pause button faster than lightening speed.

“Oh, uh… cara.”

You smile. “Why did you turn it off?”

His face turns crimson and he clutches the crucifix on his chest. “Ugh… ehm…”

You understand his embarrassment. From a very superficial perspective he may not exactly be the type of man you’d expect to sing along to Kelly Clarkson and maybe it’s not even what he usually listens to, but it’s Christmas songs – Christmas love songs – and you’re in the perfect mood for that.

“You should never pause Mariah,” you say, walking over to his side to press the button again, turning the volume down just a little so you can still talk. His blush deepens but the up-beat music immediately draws a smile onto both of your faces. “It’s a good song.”

“It’s… it’s not bad,” he agrees. “A classic, which is… which is why I listen to it, of course. The only reason, sì.”

You hide your grin and lean against his desk. “Sooo… I didn’t come to discuss music, actually, but because I realised that we haven’t decorated your office yet.”

Copia furrows his brow, folding his hands in his lap. “Oh, yes… I am not good with these things, cara mia, I don’t know how to make it look nice.”

You take one of his hands, tracing the silver crucifix on his glove. “You spend so much time in this gloomy old room, you should have something to brighten it up during Winter.”

He smirks, lacing your fingers together. “Well, you’re here now.”

The corners of your mouth move upwards involuntarily. “Sadly I can’t be here all day.” He sighs dramatically but you ignore it. “Which is why I brought some things. Help me with the second box?”

Copia jumps up, ever helpful, and follows you to the door. You push it open and hear a sudden tinkling sound. Looking up, you find something that definitely was not there before, something someone must have taken out of your box with brushwood and garlands.

“Looks like someone just did the decorating for us…”

The mistletoe, adorned with two small bells and a bright red bow, sits right over the office door.

“Oh.” Copia caught it as well, eyes widening. “This is a…”

“Mistletoe, yes.”

He smiles. “I know what that means.”

“Do you?”

This time, you’re practiced – and sober.

Copia gently guides you into his frame right under the mistletoe, waits for you to wrap your arms around his neck before he tilts your chin just right. He leans in, kissing you gently at first before he adds more pressure. You’re enraptured by his softness, but if you’re being honest you want more. You’ve been thinking about your tipsy kiss all day yesterday, trying to conjure up his taste. At this point you need it like oxygen. It’s a desperate, overpowering urge, so before he can pull away you trap his bottom lip between your teeth.

“Cara…”

You don’t let him speak but kiss him again, taking over this time. One hand at the back of his neck you pull him in closer and he softly moans into your mouth. You suck at his bottom lip, softly lick over it before pushing your tongue inside. Copia’s grip on your waist tightens and you sigh as you taste him, caressing his tongue with yours. This time there is less sweetness and more of him, traces of coffee from earlier this morning, a hint of chocolate. It’s addicting and if it weren’t for your burning lungs you’d never stop.

When you eventually do break away, huffing out a nervous laugh, you hear a loud attempt at a whistle. Turning around you see Papa Emeritus III standing close to a nearby pillar, waving at Copia with a smirk on his painted face. He lifts two fingers in a peace sign.

“How about you get a room, Cardinale,” he teases and starts rubbing the fingers together.

Before either of you find your words again, he’s already heading off down the hall with a wink.

You remain stunned. “Does Papa know…”

“You wanted to decorate,” Copia says, deeply flustered as he gently turns you around and guides you back towards his office.

“No. I think we need to place that mistletoe somewhere else first,” you grumble, getting up on your tiptoes to remove it, “before you get any other visitors.”

You throw it back into the box, pushing it all the way down, and Copia fails to hide his smile.

5 The Thank You Kiss (+1 extra)

What do you even get a Satanic Cardinal for Christmas?

You’re not exactly sure how you end up carrying a nicely wrapped present into the wing that houses the higher ranking clergy members, wearing an actual festive outfit, hair done nicely, wearing a new perfume you hope he’s going to like. You spent over an hour after mass getting ready and now your nerves are on edge. It feels surreal to be here at all but Copia invited you over for dinner and of course you said yes. Your second date – on Christmas Eve. You both decided to spend the evening together, exchanging small presents and perhaps watch a movie. It sounds chill, you shouldn’t be nervous, and yet you’re so high on adrenaline that you’re trembling.

Approaching the door to his quarters, you notice it’s already open, light streaming into the gloomy hallway. You hear distant voices as you approach. Hesitantly glancing inside, you spy a ghoul in front of a fireplace, Copia standing right next to him.

“Can you get it to burn faster?” he asks. “It’s too cold, I want it to be warm when she gets here. Quick!”

The ghoul sighs in annoyance but you can see the fire kindling under his ministrations.

“You know she’s already here, right?” the ghoul asks.

Copia jumps, eyes flickering over to where you’re leaning in the doorframe, and the ghoul smirks, menacingly sharp teeth shining just below his mask.

“Thank you, you can go,” Copia says to him, ushering him out with rapid hand gestures. “And no comment from any of you tomorrow.”

You let the ghoul pass and close the door, turning to face the person you’re most happy to see in the whole wide world. You can’t help but smile when you notice how perplexed Copia seems by the sight of you. He stands and stares, wringing his hands nervously, eyes roaming your body.

“Oh, cara.” He swallows visibly. “You look bellissima. I can’t believe you’re real and here with me. With me! Che fortunato!”

He strides over, hands finding your shoulders as he leans in to stamp a wet kiss to your cheek.

“And you smell so nice,” he says, holding you for a second longer, nuzzling your neck.

“Thank you,” you whisper, even though it barely registers because he smells incredibly good as well. It’s the cologne you’ve noticed multiple times by now, the one that makes your whole stomach flutter.

When he lets go, smiling, hands rubbing your upper arms, you’re practically melting from all of his attention. He radiates affection this evening.

“You look very handsome,” you try. “It’s so strange to see you without your cassock.”

He’s wearing slacks and a matching black button down with a dark woolen sweater on top, no cassock, no biretta, only the black leather gloves and shoes. It’s rare to see his shape so full on display around here, the black hugging the curves and edges of his body, not covered in layers and layers of heavy fabric. You find it hard not to stare at him.

“Ah, thank you, thank you.” He waves off. “I try, you know.”

“I do know.”

For a second you think he’s going to kiss you, neither one of you ready to move away from each other, but then he laughs nervously and takes your hand, pulling you further into the room. You can tell he’s tense by the way he rambles on and on as he shows you his quarters, keeping your hand in a vice grip. They’re small but you can tell he tidied up for you. First he shows you where he keeps his rats, then where you can find the bathroom. You end up back in front of the fire, still holding his hand.

“I made dinner,” he explains. “So I thought we would eat and then I could give you my present.”

“You made dinner?”

“Uhm… yes. I ugh… I cook. Sometimes. When I have time.” He shrugs, a little hesitant. “It’s edible, I think.”

It’s much more than that.

Dinner is incredible, most of all because he made Italian food instead of a fancy roast, and you eat more than you expect, despite your nerves, just because it’s so incredibly good. He even prepared dessert – the best tiramisu you ever had – and you’re glad you didn’t wear an extremely tight outfit because by the end of it you’re more than full.

Copia is over the moon that you enjoyed it, you can see the proud glint in his eyes as he’s refilling your wine glasses. Adequately supplied with drinks, he offers you a seat on his couch in front of the fire, ready to exchange gifts.

You had agreed on only getting each other a small present, so your options when you spent most of yesterday in town were pretty limited. Copia’s interests are still somewhat of a mystery to you. You know he has a handful of rats, so you went to the pet store to get some treats for them. You also know he likes reading, that he is devoted to his work, that he enjoys watching movies. But you need to figure out the details before you can make more educated presents. So in the end you got him a mug. It’s silly really, but it has a red Cardinal on it (the bird) and says I ❤︎ my local Cardinal. You thought it was sweet, that he might appreciate the irony.

As he unwraps it you get incredibly nervous, palms sweaty and heart racing. It’s a really stupid gift and not at all meaningful. Maybe you should have just bought him a sweater or something more useful. He probably has tons of mugs already, it’s such a common gift. But right as you want to justify yourself, he chuckles and you think hat maybe it’s a genuine reaction. It looks genuine.

Before giving any sort of comment he kisses you, deeply, holding your face in the warm palms of his hand. It doesn’t last very long but you still taste the cocoa powder from dessert on his lips.

He carefully places the mug next to the treats on his coffee table, his other hand never leaving your cheek. “Thank you, cara mia. È veramente perfetto.”

“I was at the pet store and they told me those are treats for rats, I hope it’s okay. I wasn’t sure–“

His thumb moves over your jaw, down to the corner of your mouth. “Oh, don’t worry, dolcezza, they are going to love it. And I love it, too.”

He sports a dazzling smile, one that brings out his crow’s feet, and you finally relax. This is going smoothly, you decide. A relaxed evening, delicious food, a nice short kiss, he even liked your silly little present. Nothing can make you jump out of your seat moving forward.

Or maybe there is something.

“Now, I think it’s my turn,” Copia says and gets up to retrieve your present from the mantelpiece, handing it to you with a slightly theatrical bow.

You can tell he’s nervous by all of his gesturing, by the way he hums to himself as he sits back down next to you. It’s small in size most likely wrapped by the store in fancy red paper and ribbon, glittering all over.

“It’s just a lil sumthin’ sumthin’,” he says.

For some reason you doubt that. Underneath the gift wrap you find a longish velvety box – a jewellery box. “Copia, you shouldn’t have…”

“No, no, look inside.”

The box opens smoothly, revealing a dainty bracelet with with three charms – a C, a small heart and the initial of your first name. Each of them has a tiny white gemstone set in the middle.

“Oh.” You take it out of the box, cradling it in your hand like a long lost treasure. “But… but Copia, that’s not a small present. Why? I don’t–“

He cuts you off. “Because I’m in love with you.”

The words hang heavy in the hair as your mind and heart are trying to catch on. You look at him in mild shock and he stares back, almost in horror, waiting for your reaction. It’s a nervous silence, one he can’t take, and then he just starts to spill it all out.

“I planned to tell you today, it’s why I invited you over. I just had to, cara mia, it’s been on the tip of my tongue so often and keeping it in my chest hurts too much. I want you to know, even if you don’t feel the same.” He rambles on and on, very clearly expecting you to turn him down. “It’s okay, you don’t have to reply. Io capisco, so che è molto da digerire.”

“Copia,” you say but he goes on in rapid Italian. You reach for his hand, squeeze until he stops. “Copia, I’m in love with you, too.”

He gapes at you, eyes wide and fearful, taking a shuddering breath. “Non giocare con i miei sentimenti, cara mia.”

“I would never lie to you, Copia. It’s true. I’m in love with you.”

“You’re in love with me?” He laughs but it’s not a humorous laugh, it’s an incredulous one. “But I am just an old man and you are young and beautiful and kind and smart. You can have anyone, dolcezza. Are you sure you want this? You want me?”

“I want to be with you, Copia. It’s all I want.”

He grins, the weight lifted off his chest, and pulls you into his side so he can kiss your head. “You are the greatest gift I ever received, amore.”

“Help me with the bracelet?” you ask, handing it to him with a wonky smile..

His hands are shaking just as hard as yours as he reaches for the delicate trinket. All in all it takes him five attempts until the bracelet sits snugly against your wrist, sparkling in the warm glow of the fire in front of you.

“It’s beautiful, thank you,” you whisper, trying very hard not cry. It’s a long awaited relief, unbridled happiness, mixed in with all the pent up emotions you can’t find words for just yet.

Copia doesn’t reply, you can tell he’s choked up as well and so instead of talking, you grab his face and pull him in for another kiss. It’s your sixth one, overall, but it’s the first one you exchange without any doubts about what it means. Maybe that’s why everything feels so limitless now. You pull him into the cushions, half on top of you, and let him deepen the kiss in a pace that he feels comfortable with. You taste a few salty tears on his tongue, mixing in with a hunger that has a lot to do with how perfectly heavy his body feels on top of yours.

You’re sure you won’t be able to count the kisses much longer.

I hope you're having a lovely Christmas – and maybe you'll even find a cardinal shaped present underneath the tree. Thank you for reading ♡

#:)#cardinal copia x reader #cardinal copia x female reader #copia x reader #ghost fanfiction #cardinal copia fanfiction #copia x fem!reader #cardinal copia #cardinal copia fluff #christmas fic #holiday fic #the band ghost fanfiction

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twwings · 8 months

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Big Festivids Recs Post!

Last weekend was the big Festivids GoLive, which meant the release into the wild of 160 brand new small fandom vids (aka fanvids, edits, etc.) Right now the collection's anonymous, but tomorrow is vidder reveals, so I wanted to write up a recs post for some of my absolute favourites from this year's collection. If you know Yuletide, well, Festivids is like Yuletide, celebrating small/weird/underappreciated fandoms! It's an exchange fest, so people ask for the small fandom vids of their heart and, then, receive one.

Honestly the collection this year is SO high quality, you should really go and browse the works yourself in their entirety; there are so many vids that I absolutely loved that I didn't put on this recs list, because I was trying not to get carried away (and also trying to get it done). But just to get you started, here are a smattering of my favourites. I tried to represent a bunch of vid genres and source types here, but ultimately it's just my taste.

RECS RECS RECS!

Andor: Level Up

AHHHH this is a vid about Andor and fascism and collective action and One Way Out and it's so gorgeously done. Perfect song choice, perfect vid, makes me cry and I will rewatch it many times.

Andor: be ready and be brave

Focusing on Ferrix, its history, its people, and its revolution. Absolute chills. Also I'm SO happy whenever I get to watch a vid to a Mountain Goats song.

Mosquita y Mari: como siempre soñé

Such a sweet, soft, slow romance vid. I ACHED for these two. Like reading a 300k slowburn but in three and a half minutes.

Dropout TV: Nothing in my Head

The Dropout TV vid of my DREAAAAAMS! (largely Game Changer but with lots of stuff in there!)

Taskmaster UK: Blood in the Cut

UHHHH. IT'S AMAZING??? It's hot and raw and kinky and hardcore. the vidder has the delicate, precise touch of a bloody scalpel. Yes, this is a vid for Taskmaster, the UK show where comedians do silly tasks. Because yeah, it's that show, but it's also this show.

Slash/Back: Uja

This vidder KNOWS how to vid horror. The way this vid cuts the most terrible images to make them barely-there, more horrifying for being rough slaps against my consciousness . . . yikes. Amazing vidding, super cool and scary, while also maintaining the uplifting, kickass, hopeful tone you want from a collective-action horror movie.

Janelle Monae: I Like That

Glorious, joyful, sexy celebration of being a free-ass motherfucker.

Star Trek: Lower Decks: Hard Times

Boimler vid about how he's essentially a redshirt who is just slightly too sweet to actually die. Absolutely adorable and hilarious.

Woman King: Upside Down

Absolute BANGER of a vid, great cuts, great movement, great character arc and great Dahomey women being amazing.

Romeo + Juliet: Magnetic

We all agree Harold Perrineau is the best Mercutio, SO, with that in mind, here is a flawless celebration of the best Mercutio.

Knives Out/Glass Onion: 'Til You Hit a Nerve

Brilliant comparison vid putting Marta from the first film together with Helen and Andi from the second one, drawing out the similarities and dissimilarities in a visual feast and with a badass powerwalk. Nothing not to love!

David Cronenberg's Films: body

This one is phenomenal. It takes David Cronenberg's entire filmography and condenses it into a vid about all the sexualized body horror. It is deeply horny and deeply disturbing and deeply fascinated by every single finger going into a hole in a body that shouldn't be there. It's soft and tentative and it's very graphic and violent, all at once.

The Wheel of Time: Velodrome

Tower politics and circularity and being bound to one another in every good way and every bad way; what a beautiful vid. I love how this is about a place, and about how that place draws these people together over and over in their shared experience and love and trauma.

The Midnight Sky: The Laughing Heart

Absolutely gorgeous vid of the film to a spoken word + music rendition of Charles Bukowski's "The Laughing Heart" (there is a light somewhere). I have not seen this film but I found this vid deeply moving.

Moby Dick: Queequeg and I

There are four (FOUR!!!) Moby Dick vids at Festivids this year, and they are all amazing combinations of a huge smorgasboard of sources, I heartily recommend them all, but I'll specifically rec two. This one is Queequeg and Ishmael to "Wouldn't It Be Nice" and it is the sweetest queerest thing ever. Queequeg and Ishmael get a happy ending shhhhh they do shhhhh yes this is how it happened they came out of the water they're fine

Moby Dick: a vulture feeds upon the heart forever

This vid is a fucking masterpiece. It is a huge archival multisource Moby Dick vid that weaves all these incredibly different visual together to make a coherent, tragic narrative. And like. The BOOK is not a coherent narrative! This is such gorgeous and amazing fanwork. Don't miss out on it.

Women's 100m Sprinting: Didn't Come to Play

This is GORGEOUS, I don't know anything about sprinting but I know I love these beautiful joyful powerful women running really fast and hugging each other and being amazing. The editing on this is so tight; the vid never stops for a second. Like a sprint?!?!?!

The Golem and the Jinni: סיפור הגולם

This is another book vid, but since this book doesn't have any adaptations, it's using entirely archival source and probably some documentaries and films to construct the story - or, really, construct the vibe of the book, construct the metaphors of the book, and the result is beautiful and powerful and meditative. It's about survival, and making life.

Jesus Christ Superstar: Hope on Fire

This is another umbrella vid, where the vidder is taking a bunch of different productions of the play and mashing them together. This vid focuses on Judas and Jesus/Judas, and it all feels so inevitable and tragic and real and cruel. I really loved it.

Jordan Peele's Films: Goodbye, Honey, You Call That Gone

This is such a wonderful mashup of Jordan Peele's three films, exploring all the parallels and differences and just the rich tapestry of his imagery.

猎罪图鉴 | Under the Skin: Put It On Me

I don't know this source but this was just so gorgeously put together; there's a focus on art and art objects, on hands moving and creating, that's just mesmerizing.

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spiralhouseshop · 9 months

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Hellebore Yuletide Hauntings 2023 issue! Now in stock at the Spiral House!

A Christmas Cauldron of Folklore and Fiction - Yuletide Hauntings Brews Spellbinding Tales

As winter nights grow long and crackling fires ignite, delve into the spectral heart of Britain with Yuletide Hauntings. This A5 magazine, bathed in the tradition of Christmas ghost stories, unveils 96 silk-coated pages overflowing with chilling delights.

Join renowned authors as they conjure tales of phantom Roman armies on modern motorways, mournful grey ladies in ancient halls, and headless coachmen galloping through moonlight. Luxuriate in evocative artwork and bask in the essence of folklore, history, and the very spirit of Britain itself.

Embrace the Yuletide Hauntings. Order your copy now and let it whisper forgotten secrets on a winter's breath.

Words by Verity Holloway, Edward Parnell, Maria J. Pérez Cuervo, John A. Riley, Julia Round, Katy Soar, and Alice Vernon. Cover by Courtney Brooke. Art direction by Nathaniel Hébert. Edited by Maria J. Pérez Cuervo.

#hellebore #folk horror #zines #yuletide hauntings #hellebore magazine #hellebore zine #witch shop

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lokis-dark-queen · 2 years

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Yuletide

Loki/Female Reader Smut

Summary: Loki needs a distraction from his regrets, he finds that in the form of tying up his lover with the tree garland and fucking her dumb.

Warnings/notes: Smut 18+, Bondage with garland, Sad Loki, Loki gets emotional after he comes idk what else to say.

Word count: 1,848

Also on AO3

*header from Pinterest*

The fireplace roared, wood crackling under the heat of the flames. Little white lights slightly lit the room where the light of the fire didn’t reach. Most of those lights wrapped around the fresh evergreen on one side of the room. Loki and his lover surrounded the tree, decorating it carefully with ornament bobbles and Asgardian symbols on Loki's request.

Loki had been rather depressed recently, missing the once lively Asgard which had since been destroyed by Surter. This would be his first Yuletide since he came to live on earth. She offered that they could go to New Asgard and celebrate the holiday there, but Loki insisted that they would spend it in their shared home, saying it would be more romantic that way.

“I wish you could’ve seen it darling, they would decorate the palace with so many trees and wreaths that the whole place would smell like pine wherever you went.”

“Wow! That sounds lovely.” She smiled, her grin warming his heart.

“It was.” He muttered before turning to look at the raging fire in the fireplace at the other side of the living room.

She could tell he yearned for his days back on Asgard, before everything fell apart, before he found out his lineage. It all happened so many years ago, but for a god that has lived for more than a thousand years, it mustn't feel like that long for him. She would do anything for him, if she could turn back time, she would do it for him. He thought of living in New Asgard with Thor, being that their relationship was probably the best and healthiest it has been since they were kids. But Loki just couldn’t settle in the new environment, maybe he missed the former glamor that once decorated his so-called home, or maybe he didn’t like the faint smell of salt and fish that constantly hung in the air. Whatever it was he decided to stay with the girl he fell in love with instead, saying that being with her was home to him.

With the tree almost finished, she picked up the golden garland that sat at the bottom of the decoration box. Just as she was about to start wrapping it around the tree she looked back and saw Loki, who was now watching the flurries of snow fall outside the window.

“Loki.” She said his name softly.

“Yes? Sorry, I was just think-” He turned around, but was quickly cut off by her draping the garland around his shoulders and using it to pull him down into a gentle kiss, which he happily returned, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her closer.

The kiss becomes deeper as he takes the garland from his shoulders and drapes it around her hips, pulling her flush against his strong body that was wrapped inside that soft green sweater. Loki breaks their makeout session and looks down at the flushed woman in his arms. He then looked further down to the garland in his hands.

“I think we could use this.” He mutters.

“For the tree?” She asks.

“For you.” He smirked.

She suddenly felt a chill in the air when she noticed that Loki had removed her clothes with his magic, she felt the heat from the fire prick her skin as the chill went away. Loki looked down at her with a glint in his eyes and a smirk on his lips.

“Turn around, hands behind your back,” he demanded.

“Yes sir.” She obeyed him instantly.

Loki ties the garland around her wrists and up her arms, the tinsel material tickling her skin.

“Look at you, wrapped up like a present for me to devour.” His voice sent shivers down her spine and heat to her cunt.

He kissed down her neck and shoulders, his hands roaming up and down her body. His palms found their way to her breasts, groping them softly and pinching her nipples. They travel down her stomach, and past her navel. The feel of his hands then disappeared, she could feel his clothed hardness against her ass as he pressed against her.

“Turn around and kneel so you can receive your gift, pet.”

She once again did as she was told and knelt down to be greeted with Loki’s clothed, hard cock right in front of her face. Loki gently pushed the back of her head to bring her closer to him. She placed a soft kiss on his bulge.

“How badly do you want your gift?” He asked seductively.

“So bad, sir. Please give it to me.”

“Well, since you asked so politely, how could I say no.”

Loki slowly undid his belt and unzipped his trousers, it was torture, she knew he did it on purpose to be a tease and watch her squirm with need. She clenched her thighs when his cock was finally freed, bobbing with need to feel her mouth around him. She leaned forward to give him what he needed. Loki held her hair, pulling on it slightly which caused her to moan.

Loki gasped as her lips finally met his leaking tip, her tongue gathered the precum before liking down his shaft. After some teasing licks, Loki pushed his hips forward while holding her head in place, making her finally take him into her mouth. She started slowly, moving her mouth up and down his dick while hollowing her cheeks. She must have been going too slow for Loki who began taking control and thrusting his hips into her mouth. All she could do was kneel right there and take it. Her knees began to feel sore, her wrists still neatly tied together with the holiday decor. Loki’s gasps and moans became louder, just as she thought he was going to cum he pulled out.

“Turn around, get on your hands and knees” He breathlessly commanded. After she did as she was told she felt Loki kneel down behind her. He pushed her shoulders down, causing her to nearly fall face first on the plush fur rug beneath them. Her body jolted as his hand hit her ass, leaving a nice red mark to remember it by. “So pathetic for me, willing to drop to her knees at a moment's notice.”

Only whimpering could be heard from the girl underneath Loki as he teased her cunt with his cock, circling her clit and making her arch into his touch.

“Please sir, give me my gift, i've been a good girl.” She begged.

“You have pet, I'll give it to you.” He whispered into her ear, his hands ran down her bound arms, playing with the garland between his fingers. They moaned in unison as Loki finally sheathed himself in her wet pussy. “Fuck! You’re so wet.” He moaned, holding her hips in place as he began to set a pace, her fingers held onto the fur of the rug as he roughly thrusted into her.

“Loki ah- harder!” She screamed.

Loki pressed his palm against her lower abdomen, he could feel the bulge from his cock inside of her, “Can you feel me here?”

“Yes! Fuck you feel so good.”

Loki wrapped his fingers in her hair and pushed her head deeper into the rug, her cheek rubbed against the rug as his thrusts became rougher. He then used her hair to pull her upright so that her back was flush against his chest, Loki’s hands ran up her thighs and torso before finding their place on her tits. Her head fell back on his shoulder as she tried to move her hips to relieve the pressure on her throbbing clit. Loki took the hint and his fingers found her clit rubbing it in tight circles, causing her to scream his name in a burst of pleasure.

“Loki! Please s-sir, I wanna cum.” She begged the god for release.

“You gotta wait baby, I'm so close.” He moaned, turning his head so that he could kiss her, his mouth muffled her moans. She rolled her eyes back, feeling lightheaded from all the pleasure she was receiving. Loki broke the kiss and looked at her, “Look at you, so drunk on my cock, so needy for me.”

“Cum inside me, please.”

“Want me to fill you up? Huh? You want my cum dripping from your pussy?” Loki’s thrusts became sloppier as he chased his high. “I’m gonna cum baby, cum with me.”

Desperate moans fell from their lips she came around his cock causing him to follow right behind her and coat her walls with his seed. His face was buried in her shoulder, taking in her scent. Their bodies were flushed from both the intense sex and the heat from the fire, the flame calming into popping embers. They both stayed still for a few moments, trying to catch their breath.

Loki untied the garland, using his sedir to make the golden decoration wrap around the tree in front of them. She smiled, seeing the material sparkle in the light. Loki pulled out of her carefully, his cum dripped out of her and onto the rug.

“You better clean that.” She giggled.

Loki rolled his eyes, using his magic once again to clean up their mess. “Better?” He asked with a playful tone.

“Better.” She turned around and wrapped her arms around his neck, giving him a comforting kiss. When Loki didn’t return it with as much passion as he normally would she pulled away and looked at him with concern. “Are you okay, my love?”

“I wish I could change it.”

“Change what?”

“My actions, everything I did, on earth and on Asgard. The only parents I ever knew are gone, and I’m too much of a coward to face my own brother.”

“You’re not a coward Loki, you've endured so much, you lost your home. You’re healing, that takes time, trust me I know. I’m sure Thor would understand, it was his home too.” She couldn’t imagine what Loki was going through, he had held all this back and now his true emotions were surfacing.

“What about New York? There are people who despise me for what happened. I was a monster.”

“That wasn’t you Loki, that was Thanos. You barely had control of your actions. Your brother and the people of Asgard look at you with high regard, you helped save them. Don’t let your mistakes hold you back Loki, you're an amazing person. The events of your past don't define you.”

Loki looked at her in awe. How could someone love him this much? He leaned forward and rested his head on her shoulder. She wrapped her arms around him, lightly scratching his bare back as she did so.

“I love you so much darling.” He kissed her collarbone before lifting his head to look her in the eye, “Besides, if it wasn’t for all that, I would've never found you, my love.”

“I love you so much, Loki.” She cupped his cheeks and kissed him softly before resting her forehead against his.

“I love you too, Kærasta.”

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downbad4fyodor · 10 months

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Pairing: Dazai Osamu and Chuuya Nakahara x Fem!reader word count: 868 summary: You decided to go Christmas caroling, but Dazai and Chuuya wouldn't stop fighting warnings: none Tag list: @getousrep

Want more Fics for the Holidays?

The winter night unfolded like a tapestry of silver and indigo, the moon casting its gentle glow upon the silent streets adorned with a fresh blanket of snow. Bundled against the chill, you, Dazai, and Chuuya ventured forth on a Christmas caroling odyssey. The jingling of bells hung from your coats created a festive overture as you stepped into the crystalline night, carrying with you the promise of harmonious melodies and seasonal cheer. Little did you fathom that beneath the facades of Yuletide joy, a tempest of tensions swirled between Dazai and Chuuya.

The journey commenced with a harmonious promise as you approached the first house. The jingle of bells, like ethereal chimes, resonated with the winter silence. "Deck the Halls" emerged from the trio's lips, voices intertwining in a festive symphony. Yet, keen eyes could detect the subtle nuances in the exchanged glances between Dazai and Chuuya, a quiet prelude to the discord that loomed.

At the doorstep of the next house, the notes of "Jingle Bells" drifted into the night, but the harmony wavered as the camaraderie fractured. Beneath the surface of the festive melody, a clandestine bickering threatened to eclipse the joy. Chuuya's gaze bore a disapproving weight, met by Dazai's nonchalant shrug. The once seamless chorus now echoed with an undertone of unspoken disagreement.

The third house, an unsuspecting audience to the carolers, received the strains of "Silent Night" that carried a clandestine tension. Whispered arguments punctuated the serene melody, each word a sharp note in the air. Passersby, wrapped in scarves and coats, observed the trio, their obliviousness a stark contrast to the internal strife that played out.

A spirited rendition of "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" marked a turning point. The latent animosity between Dazai and Chuuya reached a crescendo, and the festive illusion threatened to shatter. Words, like icicles, hung in the frosty air, sharp and brittle. Yet, miraculously, the carol persisted, though the veneer of enthusiasm now bore the weight of unspoken grievances.

Approaching the next house, the animosity reached a zenith. "O Holy Night" became an ironic backdrop to their silent warfare, and "Joy to the World" felt like a distant echo of shared sentiment dissipating in the cold. The harmonious spirit of Christmas caroling transformed into a battleground, the strains of the carol now a mere backdrop to the snide remarks and simmering resentment.

The tension climaxed at the last house, where a silent agreement passed between Dazai and Chuuya. The finale, "Hark! The Herald Angels Sing," should have been a triumphant crescendo, yet the strained smiles and exchanged glances betrayed the tumult beneath the surface.

Retreating from the final doorstep, the trio navigated the snowy streets in a hushed atmosphere. The moonlight, which earlier bathed everything in a soft glow, now cast a somber hue on the night. The unresolved discord hung in the air like a lingering note, a poignant contrast to the picturesque scene around.

Silence prevailed until the trio reached home, where the frosty air seemed to mirror the unspoken tension. The moonlight, now filtered through frosted windows, illuminated Dazai and Chuuya's strained expressions. The unresolved differences, disguised beneath layers of caroling and festive trappings, cast a shadow over the night that should have been a celebration of harmony and joy.

Once inside, the silence lingered, echoing in the spacious room. The moonlight spilled through the windows, casting elongated shadows that mirrored the unresolved intricacies of the evening. Dazai, leaning against the wall, broke the silence. "Well, that was an interesting caroling adventure, wouldn't you say?"

Chuuya, his arms crossed, shot a sharp glance at Dazai. "Interesting? That was a disaster. I can't believe you had to turn every note into a competition."

Dazai, with a nonchalant grin, retorted, "Competition spices things up, don't you think? Adds a little drama to the festivities."

Chuuya, his irritation palpable, scoffed. "Drama? I thought we were here to spread holiday cheer, not engage in a verbal sparring match."

The room, now illuminated by the soft glow of the moon, became a stage for the verbal jousting between the two. The unresolved tension crackled in the air, creating an atmosphere that stood in stark contrast to the serene, festive expectations of the night.

You, caught in the crossfire of their verbal volleys, attempted to mediate. "Come on, guys. It's Christmas. Can't we just enjoy the night without turning it into a battlefield?"

Dazai, ever the provocateur, smirked. "Why not? A little drama never hurt anyone. Besides, it adds character to the otherwise mundane caroling tradition."

Chuuya, visibly exasperated, shook his head. "Character? This is not a play. It's a celebration of the season. Can't we at least agree on that?"

As the verbal spar continued, the moonlight continued to cast its soft glow upon the room, creating an otherworldly ambience. The unresolved tensions, though palpable, stood in stark contrast to the festive decorations that adorned the space.

The night, which started as a journey of caroling camaraderie, now concluded with a tableau of discord and disagreement. The moon, a silent witness, cast its gentle glow upon the room, a subtle reminder that even in the midst of celebration, unresolved differences could cast shadows over the festive spirit.

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mantrabay · 9 months

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Christmas Torch Aloft

Season of dream haze and arctic signpost.

Chill and chap brood whose scattered offspring plummet thermal values as welcome mat for “whiskered” chimney guest awash with bounty.

Thief of sun filled days without a twinge but that universal late December rendezvous can’t be thrust off-course.

Primal raw wind howl dissing summer’s distant memory - spotty and erratic though it was.

Deck chair, seat of toil free bliss now cold front recess blob.

Mirage or wishful thinking from a wet weather veteran.

We live in fear of reruns like Ophelia or

2010’s black ice.

Storm Force Brian, Mount Fuji on an airwave shrapnel carrier.

Dormant Loch Ness shadow’s fervent air mass plugging festive tunes.

To fuel dispatch and chimney sweep alike a sacred windfall.

For those who struggle just another inroad on an ever

shrinking pocket.

Yet this annual curtain closer has its grail and saving grace.

Dark art charmer lacing every patch for knee high boot crunch.

Architect of igloo closet ski cap.

Sleigh ride bell upon that maligned feast around our globe (Noel hark the alpine carol)!

Bizarre but only to us frostbite souls aloof from glacial beauty.

Deep freeze spirit canvass may not surface.

Christmas anthems booming over frolic footfall streets adorned by night owls.

Chaser lights that gee up gutted ghost town black spot.

Urban ice rink dome another fantasy or wonderland.

Toy shop stock n trade whose only trade is stock.

Colour coded gadget clutching every cell of window space.

Fashion fodder wizards magic spark a toddler’s glee at every turn.

Boisterous strains of Santa rousing inner reindeers - the sort beloved by children down the ages.

Yuletide decor gift band holly bush spike.

Log tossed on fire, kindling stick incendiary, leaping flame enshrouds smokeless polish.

Skim milk skyline flaunts its snow fleck jewellery aloft.

Stars of astral compass spread their twinkle dash on human garlands.

Winter’s stepwise edging in a whirl plume of slush.

Christmas well and truly has arrived.

Photographs and piece

all my own work

Dedicated to my wonderful sister Jay Pallen.

Happy Christmas to you and your family/ friends, Jay.

Wishing everyone on tumbrl a very merry Christmas

To those on tumbrl who read, liked, and reblogged my various works, a deep and genuine thanks

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copiousloverofcopia · 9 months

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🎄Hey there ghesties for some late Yuletide fun here is a little something!!! 🎄

We are back again for another story featuring the adorable Sister Saccharine and her beloved Copia! A little Yuletide story for my ghestie @sistersaccharine

Thank you so much for letting me continue creating Saccharine's story with you! I hope you and everyone else enjoys!!!!

Commissions are OPEN, please see pinned post for Carrd info!

The Dysfunctional Emeritus Christmas

Sister Saccharine takes a winter stroll when her fellow Sisters of Sin invite her to her first Yule celebration with the Emeritus family since her and Copia were wed. Shenanigans ensues when the family comes together in a way only an Emeritus dysfunctional Christmas could.

Also available HERE on AO3!

Read below!

The snow was glistening over the fields that once held flowers. Icicles firmly established along the branches of all the trees. And wicked chill took hold in the wind as Sister Saccharine walked along the path sitting along the edge of the grounds. The western woods, just beyond, like bare bones in the cold. Not a leaf to speak of as she heard the crows cawing in the air and noticed the family of little ruby-eyed rabbits. Their white fur barely visible as they huddled together beneath the root of a tree.

Saccharine bent down to greet them. Lifting the smallest one up in her soft mittens. Watching them warming their little body asked the yarn like a hug. Her own breath, visible in the blistering cold as she spoke.

“Oh, my little one. This must be your first winter here…poor thing. You must be so cold.” she cooed, holding him gently in her hands. Saccharine, taking a moment to think before being struck with a brilliant idea. “Here... hopefully this will help.” she told him, placing the bunny back with its family. Now covered by her sacrificed mittens, help to insulate the heat of their bodies from the bitter cold.

It made her smile to see them warmed by her gift. Despite the winter solstice having taken hold, Saccharine didn’t mind the cold. Managing somewhere to be warmed from within. Her heart, so full and her pink-tinted nose, kissed by winter, nestled against the fabric of her favorite coat. Saccharine contentedly took in a deep inhale. Breathing in the scent of Copia’s cologne, still lingering there from their shopping trip from the day before, as she continued her walk.

Nothing made her happier than to think of him. Her beloved husband, for only a few short months, but already a lifetime lived between them. Her thoughts were never far from him. The dear sister, unable to control the smile that reached her lips. His voice echoing sweet nothings in the forefront of her mind.

She had often thought of him when she was alone. Even in the times when only moments had passed since they’d been together. Today was a bit different, with her thoughts occupied by the weight of Yule this year. It was to be her first Yuletide with Copia as husband and wife. Her first time as a true part of the Emeritus family, and the thought of it filled her with so much joy—and weary.

She wanted to make a good impression on them. Hoping to consult with Ren, Secondo’s Prime Mover, and her friend for many years. She had been a great mentor to Saccharine since she first arrived at the Abbey. Surely, she would be able to empathize with her, guide Saccharine as to how she could settle the nervousness in the pit of her stomach. She knew that her friend would have the exact right thing to say to calm her. It wasn’t too long after that Saccharine swore she heard her name being called. Stopping a moment to shake off her confusion before hearing it once again.

“What are you doing out here in the cold, we’ve been looking all over for you?” Prime Mover Ren called over to her. Saccharine turned to see her friends approaching her in the snow. The lot of them, bundled up in their winter best and carrying cups of hot chocolate in their hands. The rich smell, catching Saccharine’s attention as they drew closer. She instantly perked up. Ren, quick to hand her the extra cup she was carrying as Nova and Knell sipped away from their own.

“I am sorry, I must have lost track of time.” she laughed nervously, taking her first sip from her cup. The taste of the warm chocolate with a hint of cinnamon, glorious on her tongue as it filled her mouth.

“I’m honestly shocked you’re not frozen solid.” remarked Sister Knell. “You…ah…not own a pair of gloves?” she continued, noticing Saccharine’s bare cold scorched hands.

“Oh I do…well did.” she laughed.

“Never mind that Saccharine, come to Yule tonight with us!” Nova beamed, so excited to be the one to invite her. The ghoulette’s tail, swishing happily from side to side as she awaited her answer.

“You mean the ministry gathering? Isn’t that tomorrow night?” she asked her.

“What she means…” Ren continued shaking her head, “that you and Copia need to come to Secondo and I’s suite this evening for Yule celebrations. You’re an Emeritus now. This time is just for the family. Plenty of Ministry celebrations for later.”

“Oh well of course, I am sure Copia would be thrilled.”

“Indeed, now let's get you back inside before you become a snowman.” Ren laughed, wrapping her arm around Saccharine as the four of them walked back to the Abbey.

Saccharine spent the rest of the day getting ready. Outfits tossed to every inch of her and Copia’s bedroom as she searched for the perfect thing to wear. Settling on an adorable black dress with matching shawl, similar to her husband’s former cassock. Sheer tights and the most adorable black boots with matching bows. The focus of her outfit, a new blue sapphire encrusted necklace. Carefully draped over her decolletage—-a gift that Copia couldn't resist giving her early.

He watched her from the doorway. A smile, pulling at the corners of his mouth as she turned back to face him. Holding out her arms and twisting around so he would get the idea of the flow of her dress.

“What do you think?”

“You look incredible dolcezza. Most beautiful thing I have ever seen.” he replied, his words sending a blush of pink over Saccharine’s cheeks. He quickly took her in his arms, hugging her close before planting a small kiss on her forehead.

“Think they’ll like it?” she asked him, the worry unable to be fully hidden within the tone of her voice. Copia tilted her chin up to face him.

“Saccharine, they are our best friends and family…they will love you even if you wore a potato sack to dinner.” he laughed, his wife giving him a playful tap to the chest.

“I know, I know. I just want to make a good impression; you know what I mean?”

“I know. This is perfect…you are perfect. I promise.” he assured her. Saccharine, hugging him once again. Gripping him so tight, never truly wanting to let him go. This lovable, silly man who always knew the right thing to say.

Finally, hours later, they had made it. The two of them standing in wait before the door of Secondo and Ren’s Papal suite after ringing the bell. “Are you ready amore?” Copia asked her, feeling her uneasily squeezing his hand.

“Ready.” she told him, taking a deep breath. Her nerves, on edge for what may come next. When the door opened, Saccharine was awestruck. The suite was lavishly decorated. All of the Yuletide trimmings on full display. Garland lining every surface, with bright warm lights that twinkled a delicate glow. Ornate holly wreaths, hung carefully on the walls and a sprig of mistletoe in every doorway. The beautiful glow of candles, serving to fill the room with a warm ambiance which complemented the scent of poinsettias, cinnamon, and pine.

It was clear to Saccharine that Prime Mover Ren had spared no expense when it came to Yule. After all, an Emeritus celebration was always a bit of a show, but somehow, she had managed to make it still feel cozy and quaint. The warmth and inviting nature of it, reminding Saccharine of the Christmases she had back at home. A bittersweet smile sweeping across her face just as Ren spoke.

“You know the party's ALL the way inside, right?” She laughed, catching Saccharine’s attention before Copia and her finally breached the threshold of the door. “Would you both be a dear and put these candies in the stockings for the children. I have been meaning too, but I am swamped in the kitchen with dinner. Primo has taken over and has been shooing everyone but me and Knell out all afternoon." Ren told them, handing over the sack of candies to Saccharine.

“Oh…why yes of course.” Saccharine smiled. The two of them took to the mantle located in the main parlor, placing little chocolates and peppermints in each of the little ones' stockings as they carried on.

“They are so small.” Copia remarked, sending a sweet glance her way. They were, and charming just as everything else and the look on her husband’s face made Saccharine wonder if their own mantle would be home to small stockings someday. It was a small moment between them that made her heart soar as she filled the stockings. When she went to open the last of them her eyes widened in surprise. There, all curled up together and sleeping peacefully in the bottom was little Gnocchi and Rigatoni. Copia took a look for himself, placing a finger over his lips, hushing the both of them before waking the mice.

“Sweet Lucifer Secondo the sweater looks just fine, stop fussing about it already.” Ren said as she reappeared to check on them. Secondo huffed and crossed his arms as Ren went on, rolling her eyes as she tapped Copia’s shoulder. “Papa, do you think you can help us with reaching for something in the kitchen?”

“Oh course, I will be right back.” he told Saccharine as they headed into the kitchen. It made Saccharine a bit nervous to be left on her own, especially since Secondo. She never was quite sure how to approach him. It was moments like this Saccharine knew having Copia by her side always made everything seem more pleasant and comfortable.

It was the first time she had been to any gathering as an official member of the Emeritus family. Trying her best to hide her anxiety behind a soft smile, she turned to face out into the belly of the room. Immediately taking note of Secondo sitting quietly in the middle of the sofa. The former Papa was serving as both a jungle gym and lion tamer for his many children as they chased each other around the room.

All of them were brimming with excitement at the sight of their gifts, devastated that they would have to wait until after dinner to open them. It was then she noticed that Secondo and Ren wore matching sweaters, both black with sparkling holly wreaths and pentagrams. Saccharine immediately went to cover her mouth. Hiding her giggle at his grumpy, yet proud papa disposition.

The two youngest of the children were playing with Nova on the floor beside the tree. The ghoulette tangled up in the tinsel like a kitten as little Lucian clapped away. Nova was always so good with the children. Her heart was so pure, one of the best friends Saccharine had ever had.

Maybe I can relax a bit after all, Saccharine thought to herself as she took a seat opposite the bunch. Secondo, sending her a knowing nod and a welcoming smile as they both watched Nova and the children play. Suddenly from the corner of her eye, Saccharine caught sight of Sister Knell peering out from behind the door frame, leading from the kitchen. The sister’s eyes, shifting around as she snuck Nova and the children some cookies.

It was amusing to see everyone together like this. The joy of the season, reminding Saccharine just how much she loved all her friends. When she felt she wouldn't be missed, she took her leave. Deciding to check on Copia as she politely dismissed herself. “I’m gonna go see how Copia is holding up.” she smiled as she headed to the kitchen.

Immediately as she walked inside, she saw Primo shooing Knell away from the counter. “Sorella go—go. I told you I can do it myself.” he respectfully snipped, stirring the gravy in the pot as Sister Ren began making the final touches to the pies.

“Just trying to help out Peepaw…don’t get your panties in a bunch.” Knell winked. Saccharine smiled softly at her. Knell was quite the character and even though they had become fast friends, Saccharine was sometimes unsure of how to read her. Primo must have sensed this. He, better than anyone able to pick up on Saccharine’s mood. Caring for her, as her own father would have in his stead.

“It’s alright piccola…you know she won’t bite. Well maybe?” Primo laughed as Knell shrugged, handing Nova another cookie, before the two of them disappeared into the dining room to help set up the table at Ren’s request.

“Agh…it's been like this all afternoon…” Ren began as she passed by Saccharine to grab the cinnamon, “...but at least Sec and her are no longer going at it.”

“We will celebrate small favors.” Primo laughed before taking a moment to pull the turkey from the oven. Filling the air with the most mouthwatering scent of thyme, rosemary, and sage.

“I personally find it rather amusing myself—-ow!” Terzo howled, getting his hand swatted for swiping a bit of the gravy on his fingers.

“Tieni le tue mani sporche fuori da quello stronzo, non è ancora finita.” Primo hissed, furrowing his brows and shaking his wooden spoon in his brother’s direction.

“We are ready for the food!” Nova announced as she and Knell walked back into the room. Nova, taking Terzo’s hand to kiss the sore spot before he continued.

“Best part is the sweaters.” Terzo snickered under his breath, both him and Nova trying to contain their amusement.

“Alright, alright that's enough…” Ren began, motioning for her and Primo to bring the rest of the food into the dinning room. “...I’m lucky I got him dressed at all this morning. I swear the man is determined to make his own Ministry little league.” she continued sending a playful wink to Saccharine.

“Dinner children, fratello!” Primo called out as they all began making their way to the dining room. Saccharine watched as the family all filed in, each of them taking their seats. Happy faces and rumbling tummies ready for a delectable meal. As she watched them, she felt the familiar weight of arms around her waist.

“While everything for dinner smells delicious…what I am most looking forward to is dessert.” Copia purred, his lips grazing the shell of her ear. Saccharine turned to face him, her cheeks flushed by his words. “Do you see what I see?” he asked her. His eyes, calling hers to follow as they both looked up above them in the archway to see the mistletoe hanging there.

“Oh Copia, I love you so much.” She told him, waiting for him to make the first move. Her lips anticipating the sweet press of his against her.

“Amore, there is no one I would rather kiss for the rest of my life than you. Sei la mia vita, mio mondo, mio tutto. ” he confessed, closing his eyes before kissing her passionately in the archway.

“Come on now you too, dinner is getting cold.” Laughed Terzo from across the room. Both Copia and Saccharine pulled apart, playfully smiling as they approached the table. Both of their hearts, pounding. Their hands still locked together as they took their seats.

The table was a sight to behold. Its length, filled with a delightful spread of savories and sweets. It was clear that Ren and Papa Primo had worked so very hard on it. Everything made their mouths water as they all began filling their plates with the bounty of food. Just as the last roll was passed and the rest of the turkey was carved, Primo began tapping at his glass of punch. Announcing a toast for the occasion.

“May I have all your attention please.” He began, waiting for all eyes to be upon him. Even the children stopped their chatter to heed Primo’s request. Himself, more of a grandfather to them than Nihil ever could be. They loved him so very much and listened to his every word as if it were gospel. “I want to take this moment to thank our beloved Prime Mover…and Secondo, for hosting us this Yule. Such a fine spread and bountiful celebration we have here indeed.”

“Oh It’s nothing.” Ren smiled coyly as the group all lifted their glasses of wine and punch in the air.

“I want you all to know that this year we have so much to be grateful for. Lucifer has bestowed upon us a multitude of dark blessings. It is at this time we remember that through him, we find what is truly the most important in life…and most of all this year he has blessed us with a new member to the Emeritus family—-Sister Saccharine.” Primo smiled, his eyes doing their best to conceal his tears, “We welcome you to this family with open arms and wish for you and Copia nothing but all the happiness the Morning Star can provide. Nema!”

“Nema!” Everyone cheered. Saccharine immediately felt the tears rolling down her cheeks. Copia, sending a squeeze of her hand before the two of them began staring into each other’s eyes. Saccharine, feeling so in love and loved by those around her.

“Here, Here! Now let's eat.” Secondo called out. All of them holding their glasses out to cheers before taking a drink. Just as the swig entered his mouth, Primo immediately spit out the punch in a comical spray to his left. Nova and Terzo, erupting with laughter at the other end of the table.

“Now that I think of it…maybe that second bottle was a bit too much.” Nova chuckled, knowing they had spiked the punch with a bit of Ghoulish rum. The whole of the room, even Primo, joined them in their amusement.

After dinner they had all gathered in the parlor. All of the children had unwrapped their presents so fast that the air filled with the sparkle of wrapping paper and ribbon. Terzo trying his best to assemble the dolls house he and Nova got little Marianna, only to have him snap the stairway while forcing the peg into the slot.

“They don't make these things to last, you know?” he nervously laughed.

“Well not when un pagliaccio such as yourself is in charge of building it.” Secondo barked, Terzo raising from the floor to meet his gaze. The two of them, quarreling like small children themselves while the real kids played, ignorant to their father and uncle’s antics, alongside them.

The night had been filled with so much charm and love. Of course Nova had gotten everyone the best gifts. Something she had a talent for, even making Secondo get choked up by his pair of platinum and emerald cufflinks. Surprised that she had remembered he'd lost his old ones quite some time ago.

After all the presents had been opened and everyone's stomachs settled, Prime Mover Ren and Sister Knell offered everyone a cup of hot chocolate. Ren, making sure she offered one to her husband, lest it find its way to his lap. Sister Saccharine had settled herself alongside Copia on the chaise. The two of them cuddled up as they listened to the crackling of the fire. The sound, just audible beyond the children's laughter.

Saccharine sighed. I don't believe I have ever had a Christmas as wonderful as this before, she thought. So excited that this would be the first of many wonderful Christmases spent at her husband's side. She sat quietly, her smile beginning to spread across her face without her realizing.

Copia took note, watching her as she took in the scene before them. Now more than ever, feeling like a true part of the Emeritus family. With all its dysfunction and chaos, but also its love and compassion. Wondering to herself how she could have ever felt nervous before as they continued to watch the children gleefully playing with their gifts. Copia took her hand in his, inspiring her to glance up at him. Tears, filling her eyes once more as they desperately tried to balance themselves along her lashes.

“Is everything alright principessa?” he asked her. Saccharine smiled, nuzzling her face against his warm chest as they cuddled together on the sofa.

“Everything is perfect…just perfect.”

Notes:

Tieni le tue mani sporche fuori da quello stronzo, non è ancora finita.- You keep your filthy mitts out of it stronzo, it's not done yet.

Sei la mia vita, mio mondo, mio tutto.- You are my life, my world, my everything.

un pagliaccio- clown

#Happy Yule!!!!#Merry Christmas a bit late lol #Copia x Saccharine #Papa Emeritus IV x Sister Saccharine #commission work #An Emeritus Christmas Story #copia #papa iv #papa emeritus iv #ren writes #ghost #the band ghost #ghost fic #ghost fanfic #ghost fanfics #ghost fanfiction #the band ghost fic #the band ghost fanfic #the band ghost fanfiction

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limerental · 10 months

Text

ficletvember 2023 - day 24

ciri & her messed up parents modern au ft. yenralt

For the first time in years and with great trepidation, Ciri returns home for a holiday family gathering.

aka I'm pushing my ciri as jenny from thebes agena

Ciri dropped the kickstand of her bike and worked her stiff fingers in and out of fists, regretting her smart-looking fingerless gloves after miles of chilled highway. The driveway and street out front of the little house was full, and somebody had slung lights up on the eaves and chucked a crooked wreath on the door.

Half the cars she didn't recognize, but then, she hadn't been back for years.

A little tabby hurried up the walk to meet her, tail raised high, and Ciri swung off her bike to drop to meet her. Scratching behind her ears, she tipped up an oversized tag on her collar to read– of course.

Roach nudged at the laces of her boots and purred.

For all the things that did, some things never changed.

When Mama had called to tell her they were doing family Yuletide dinner, Ciri had laughed out loud. Couldn't help it. She couldn't imagine her Mama home-cooking anything without some disaster happening. When she was little, Mama used to peel the label off store-bought jam to give as gifts to her teachers. They’d always gotten takeout on the important holidays. Eaten quiet together washed by the glow of the TV.

Those were the good holidays. The bad ones were loud.

Daddy home late from a shift he claimed he wouldn't take this year. Mama red-eyed and yelling. She looked like she could call down lightning sometimes when she was real mad, black hair frizzed out and wild, and Daddy usually got that stubborn gleam in his eye and put his foot in his mouth and then–

There were great holidays too, of course. Her years spent with Pops and her uncles in the mountains, bundled up like a marshmallow for hunting trips and coming in out of the cold to a feast laid out by the roaring fire. There'd been times with her cousins from the islands, learning to ice skate and rev a snowmobile.

And there'd been great times with her parents too. Just never together under the same roof. That's when it soured.

There'd been that year that she and her dad went camping in the middle of fuck-all nowhere. Just them and their bikes and the fog and shitty freeze-dried army rations cooked out of bags. That'd been nice.

And the year Mama took her to the city, bought tickets to a show and let her dress up fancy, a little slutty, and ate takeout in their opulent hotel room after, gossiping and giggling like little girls at a sleepover. That'd been a night she remembered so fondly it ached.

But there'd never been great times in this house. Mama had lived here in Vengerberg forever, and Daddy had lived here in a rotation of years on and off and Ciri had lived here when she wasn't off at school but always done her best to find other places to go.

The first chance she could, she was gone. That escape came with its own measure of fucked up nights and bad times, but that was another story. Ciri had clawed her way out of several dark places and had figured she'd keep doing that forever.

She'd never seen her Mama's place with Yule lights on the eaves. Couldn't quite remember why no one had ever decorated. Maybe just to be stubborn and miserable. Any time they'd tried, it became a fight. The same as anything.

Ciri made herself go up the front walk, climbing the stoop and just standing there looking at the crooked greenery on the door. She reached out and straightened it rather than knocking.

She wished she'd brought somebody with her. Someone to stand here with a hand at the small of her back and make the decision to go in for her. She'd been told on the phone she could bring a guest, her Mama's voice dipping in question like she wanted to ask who she was with now but had thought better of it.

Ciri didn't have anybody. Maybe never had anyone.

She knocked on the door and didn't wait for the answer, just pushed in. Roach leapt past her legs, and the gathering in the front room that rambled out into the dining room all exclaimed with joy when they saw her. Some of the people who clapped her on the back or called a greeting were unfamiliar, but maybe she'd just forgotten or they'd shaved their beard or dyed their hair.

The rooms were hung with garland around the doorways, and music swelled from somewhere. The light was warm, and the space was full.

After being released from the umpteenth bear hug, somebody told her that her parents were in the kitchen finishing up dinner. They laughed over the mock-scared face she pulled, but the way her heartbeat kicked up, it was barely a joke.

The kitchen was too small for much of anything. Daddy always said he'd take out that half wall and give it some breathing room, but there'd been hemming and hawing over details and then a bitterness that it never got done and then a grudge and a stubborn insistence it wasn't necessary anyway to expand a kitchen no one stepped foot in.

Now, every bit of counter space was swathed with foil covered dishes. Enough to feed an army. Ciri felt a little pang of guilt that maybe they'd been waiting for her.

Mama and Daddy were standing at the stove together. Daddy with his white hair tied back, wearing a kiss the cook apron, and Mama looking short as hell in her stocking feet stirring a pot of something on the stove.

They spoke quiet together, heads bent close. Daddy's hand rested at her waist and when she cut the burner and turned to him, he dropped a kiss into her hair. They swayed together, a vision of opposites. Rising up out of Ciri's muck-stained memories like a mirage.

Mama short and fat and happy. Daddy stooping a little to rest his chin against her cloud of dark hair.

It didn't seem wholly fair. That after everything, after all those ruined holidays, everything she fled from, her parents should claw their way to something as peaceful and real as this. Something that felt different.

Ciri hadn't believed it when Mama told her. That something was different this time. But she believed it now, as much as she could believe anything at all.

The tabby weaved between her legs and meowed after a piece of ham, and her parents looked up and turned her way, faces brimming with wet smiles, and when they opened their arms together, she fell into them and held tight to both, hoping someday she'd look back on this year as one of the great ones. Fighting back the bitterness like a cold and solid wave.

#my fic #ficletvember #yenralt #ciri #aw beans

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lys-lilac · 4 months

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[RMD] Whispers of Yuletide Promises: Kasumi X MC

[A/N]: Hey there it's been a while! This work of me was lying in my folders for so so long, something which I worked upon last Christmas haha. Thanking my lovely @sterkeyra for taking so much of her time not only to proofread, but also suggest corrections to make it much better. So I will share half the credits with her, hehe. (Jenjen I love you!) Anyway, enjoy and let me know your thoughts!

(The characters in this work are fictional and from the title Romance MD: Always on Call by Voltage Inc. No copyrights intended.)

(out of context cute pic cause idk but I love them :p)

It was another day in the Seimei University Hospital as the subtle chill of the air was evident, hinting at the upcoming Christmas season. A sigh leaves MC's lips, as she stretches her body after work, looking at the spark of festivity in the staff's and patients' faces, sipping her coffee. Toshiki notices how she is looking around the Christmas celebration in the hospital, with a cup of coffee in his hand as well. The children, the cards they are making and the people wearing the red hats... He can see the glimmer in her eyes as she is looking all around. So he whispers to her.

"I am glad to see you so happy. Is Christmas your favorite holiday?"

A gentle pat lands on her head, which makes her snap out of her thoughts as she looks up towards the source of these sweet words.

"Ah, Dr. Kasumi, good work."

"Thank you. I am grateful that we both did a good job today. And, it is really nice to see the Christmas celebrations in our hospital. I can't wait to see what the New Year celebrations as well. But I have more important things on my mind right now."

"Yeah? What's that?"

He whispers softly, so only she can hear him.

"I keep thinking about hugging and kissing you. Could I perhaps ask you to give me one kiss before we go home? I'm not sure how long I can control myself otherwise."

"?!"

Her face flushes instantly as she looks at him with wide eyes and mouth hanging open.

"Uh... do you realize where we are?"

He laughs and whispers to her.

"What's on my mind right now is way more important than the fact that we are in front of our colleagues. So, is it too much to ask for a quick kiss? Or am I going to be punished if I do this? I don't really mind the punishment, if I can get to kiss you. And, by the look on your face, it seems you might have similar ideas in mind as well. So just let me go ahead with my plan."

"Since when did you become like this... Just three days ago I heard a certain someone, chewing off Dr. Hosho's ears for flouting public morals…"

"That was in the past. You can't blame me for the way I am behaving today. This is all your influence. You are just way too cute and your beautiful eyes are too distracting. It's driving me wild and making me want to kiss you again and again."

"D-Don't say such things in workplace." She covers his lips with her hands, to which he laughs softly, removes her hands from his lips, and whispers in a playful tone.

"See, there you go again with your sweet and cute shyness. Who knows how much of it would I be able to handle before I just snap?”

"S-Snap? What…"

"It means I might just grab your jaw and sneak a kiss right here and now. But, I won’t make you uncomfortable at work.

"I understand that, you dummy!"

"Does that mean I can go ahead and kiss you one more time?"

"No. We have so much work, we have to buy a Christmas tree too, so. Bye." His suggestive words had taken a toll on her and she could just run away to hide her loudly beating heart from him. He laughs softly and goes after her.

"You can't really get away from me. I will keep on chasing you until you accept my kisses. I don't care how many things are on our to-do list today, as my top priority is to wrap my arms around you and make you all mine. So come back here, MC."

*A few hours later, she signs off work, and soon enough, she's out of the hospital, and waits for him at the hospital entrance. Shortly after, he takes his leave from the hospital as well. He takes his car out of the parking lot and brings it over to the entrance, where she was waiting for him.

"Get in."

She nods and gets inside, as he shuts the door watching out so that she doesn’t hit her head, and soon starts driving. But in his mind, all that was swirling was a kiss from her. He behaved at the hospital, so he deserved it as a reward. At least that’s what he thought.

"Toshiki."

Hearing her voice, he snaps out of his thoughts and looks at her, as the car comes to a halt at the redlight.

“Mm, I am listening.”

" I have something to discuss with you. Come closer, it's confidential." She gestures with her hand lightly. He laughs softly at her cute gestures and responds. He leans towards her and gets very close to her, her breath practically tickling his ears. But he is waiting for her to share what she wanted to secretly tell him. She smiles seeing he fell into her trap, as she uses her thumb and index finger to hold his face by his cheeks, and pecks him.

Her sudden peck flusters him, as he gets all red and embarrassed. He feels like hugging her tightly, but at the same time, was too stunned to move at all. It was rare for her to actually initiate affectionate gestures like this

"That's definitely a cruel prank. Just remember that I will take my revenge on you for this tonight."

"Ahem. The light's green." She looks ahead as she pulls away, as if nothing happened. He smiles lightly, and they drive away.

"It's getting a little hard to keep my mind off you right now. Your kiss from earlier is still stuck in my mind, so can I tell you one last thing before we begin shopping for that Christmas tree?"

"What."

"If you keep on acting so shy and cute like this, then you should prepare yourself to live with the consequences of an overly romantic and love sick Toshiki Kasumi. And trust me, you don't want to live with that kind of me. I am definitely going to pester you and annoy you by being all cute, playful, affectionate, flirty, teasing and passionate."

"...!"

She tries her best to not blush and runs to the mall as a method of escape, as he parks the car. He chuckles and follows her.

The mall was decorated beautifully as it was Christmas season. Every inch and corner was worth stopping and gazing for. Whether it was apparel shops, bakery or even festive décor shops, everything was adorned with lights, elucidating a cozy atmosphere, serving as a source of warmth for the winter. As MC looks around, a shop catches her eye, selling Christmas trees and other festive items.

"Hm, this one is cute… it's not that big, and will look good on the table beside the TV. What do you say?"

He stops to take a look at the Christmas tree she is pointing out. He checks its height and tries to envision it in his living room.

"That truly looks like the perfect Christmas tree. Yes, I think we should go ahead and get this."

"Okay, I will purchase it right away." She smiles, and goes in the direction of the cash counter, but stops midway. Her eyes land on something and she runs to examine it. He notices her running now towards something, and follows her.

"Did something catch your eye? I can make a guess that it's probably a decoration item or something related to the festive mood. Did I get that right?"

She smiles hearing his hunch and nods vigorously.

"Correct! There is Christmas themed cutlery?! I am sold."

"I Knew it. There is nothing that can attract your attention more than something cute and Christmas themed. So are we going to add this cutlery set to the cart too? You seem to be obsessed with this."

"I- I will do some deliberations, wait."

His shoulders tremble seeing how she was just waddling here and there, almost sparkling from joy.

"So now you want to do some deliberations? You are just obsessed with everything here."

"Yes! Okay, I am taking this mug, that cutlery set, and this set of plates too..."

"I have a feeling you are just going to end up buying everything here at this point. I'm really curious about how much of your shopping is left. I mean, you have already bought the Christmas tree, Christmas themed decorations and now this as well. This is too much. You are even making plans about the decoration of the dinner table aren't you?"

"To be honest, I am a bit too much into the festive mood this year. Don't mind me." She rubs the back of her head in embarrassment and looks at him. His gaze softens seeing her and he answers.

“I don't mind you. In fact I think this is the cutest thing ever. As long as you are having fun, it's all good. By the way, you are not the only one feeling excited about Christmas this year. You are infecting me as well, heh.”

"Thank you." She feels relieved yet happy to be spending her time with him like that, and gives their intertwined hands a squeeze.

“Let's go home. I fear I might get into a Christmas coma now if I see any other decorations.

He laughs hearing her and answers, as he takes the bags from her hands.

"You mean a Christmas fever right? It seems like your Christmas fever is reaching its limit and it's about to make you ill."

"Hmph. Do you think I am that crazy? You know what... Maybe I should just wrap you up in a gift wrapper and parcel it to Dr. Sen. He will be over the moon for that."

He couldn’t help but chuckle and decides to give a taste of her own medicine a bit. He looks at her with a devilish smile on his face.

"Then I also have another idea. Maybe I should tie you up with a ribbon and place you under the Christmas tree as a gift to myself this year. Let's see which one of us is crazier."

"?!"

She was about to say something when his phone rings, and looking at the caller ID, his expression turns serious. He notices her expression but before she can say anything he holds a finger to his lips telling her to be quiet and he picks up the call.

"Yes, this is me. What’s the emergency?"

As he listens to the caller's voice from the other end, a serious expression settles on his face. She looks at him as she thinks they might be called in due to an emergency, so she switches to her professional self as well.

But soon after, he sighs as he frowns a bit, talking, making her worried. His face seems troubled as he talks on the phone still. She can clearly tell from his expression that whatever the doctor on the other end is saying, it's making Kasumi worry. His eyebrows are knitted together.

"What is it..?" She holds his hand to calm him down.

"...I have to go London now."

She just blinks at him with a blank expression, as she wasn't able to process the news. Why so suddenly?

"What... what do you mean you have to go London now?"

He looks at her and nods with a somber expression on his face. She can see his lips drawn into a tight line, and his gaze away from her.

"I got a call from the hospital asking me to come to London. A high risk patient came in and they need me there urgently. I have to catch a flight right now, and can’t be back until tomorrow."

"..."

Realizing the gravity of the situation, she nods in understanding.

"Don't worry. You will save the patient. I am sure."

*He can see the concern in her eyes and notices that she is also starting to worry for the patient. Seeing her change in expression when she was bubbling with joy just moments ago, makes him sad.

"Thank you. I will see what I can do. But I'm sorry to have just rushed you like this. I thought we would have more time today but it's a sudden emergency situation and I can't afford to let the patient down. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry. I understand…”

She thinks about asking to join and assist him in the surgery, but since it was on a short call, and she also had a surgery to perform the next day, she stops herself and smiles.

"Have a safe journey."

He looks at her and notices how she is holding herself back for his and the patients’ sake as well and smiles*

"I really appreciate how thoughtful and caring you are being right now. Please take care of yourself until I come back home. That is my order, understand? You can't miss your surgery just because of some emergency case of mine.”

"Don't worry. I will save the patient too. Leave it to me, and go."

"I trust you. Go ahead and make sure the patient is saved. Don't worry about me. You take care of yourself and the patient, okay?"

"Yup."

He can tell she is slightly upset with him going suddenly and it is making him feel bad. So he wraps his arms around her and whispers softly.

"I will be back as early as possible, don't worry. I will also call you as soon as I reach home so that you know I am back and safe. In the meanwhile, please take care of yourself. You are the only one I have my hopes set on for your patient's care. You will be the only one to see this through now."

Her hold on him tightens a bit, as she hugs him back, and then lets him go. She couldn’t let him get bothered with her emotions when there were serious matters to take care of at present.

"Mm. Let's go home. You have to pack up too."

They return home, and after some time, she sees him off to the airport. When she comes to his apartment, she sees the Christmas decor lying on the table, and sighs. The reason why she was so pumped for Christmas was because she was getting to spend it together with someone for the first time after so many years. But oh well, their job was important. She shakes her head to dispel away the negative thoughts, but can feel her heart ache as she starts to miss him already. The silence around her seems so cold, that she wants to call him just to hear his voice. But she doesn't as she knows how crucial his surgery would be, and he needed to be focused as well. So she forces herself to focus on decorating the tree perfectly.

The moment the lights illuminate the room, she can feel the magical and mystical atmosphere of Christmas surrounding her. She looks up, closes her eyes and prays for him to have a smooth and safe journey to London and hoping that his surgery would go well. Soon, she goes to sleep.

[Next morning]

She starts to wake up from her deep sleep. As she opens her eyes and looks around, the first thing she realizes is the glow of the Christmas lights. All the decorations from yesterday were still there on the tree. She feels happy and relieved to see the decorations in the morning. Her eyes flit towards the clock, making her think if he already had reached or not. So, she keeps her phone there, waiting for his call and goes to get ready for work in the meanwhile. Soon after, she reaches the hospital, and tries to make her busy with work.

As the time keeps flying by, a visible frown starts to appear on her face, seeing there was not a single call or text from him. Every type of thought riles up her mind. What if something terrible had happened? She keeps trying to suppress these thoughts and tries to be positive about everything.

As she knew how closed off he gets when he loses a patient, she can feel her worry increasing now. She keeps trying to suppress these thoughts and tries to be positive about everything. She couldn’t work properly the whole day, let alone noticing the banters of the peanut gallery trying to cheer her up.

[That evening]

As she completes her tasks for the day, she signs off work. She feels the anxiousness rising in her, as she realizes that the day has passed again without a call from him, so she decides to call him. She feels a little hesitant at first, but calls him anyway. Soon, it gets picked up. She can feel the tension lifting off her chest, as she sighs out of relief, hearing a familiar voice from the other end.

"Toshiki…"

The other end of the line was silent for a moment, followed by a soft chuckle.

"I guess I am just as anxious as you were."

"...why are you sounding like this? What happened?"

She knew he was hiding something, so she waits for him to answer. From the way she seemed to have held her breath she seemed worried. He smiles softly, thinking how worried he made her, and answers honestly.

"Nothing much. I guess the surgery is just taking much more time than I expected, due to some unforeseen complications that appeared.”

"You got me scared... Don't worry, everything will be okay. Are you alright?"

He feels relieved when she believes him and is able to calm herself down. He smiles and whispers softly.

"I am just a bit tired and exhausted. I am trying my best to make sure the surgery turns out okay. But I have to admit, I was getting a little worried too. The surgery is taking a lot more time than I thought it would. Hopefully you are right and everything will be alright. And don't worry. I'm not going to let down the patient or myself. I will do what I can to make the surgery go well. You take care as well okay? I will definitely call you as soon as the surgery is over."

"Sure..."

She stops herself from probing him more and ends the call. He also ends the call and sits for a bit, trying to collect his thoughts. He feels happy that he managed to pacify her concern without having to flat out lie to her. But he also knows that he probably just smudged the truth to someone who is very smart and aware of things. He knows he can't fool her for long. But he also thinks this was necessary for her to not worry too much, so that she focuses on her work properly. He takes a deep breath before he goes back to his work.

As he faces the sterile hospital surroundings, a palpable sense of loneliness settles in. The faint jingles of distant carols only amplify the stark contrast between the festive spirit outside and the clinical reality within. Each patient becomes a reminder of the distance from loved ones, as the weight of duty on Christmas Eve hangs on his shoulders. The soft glow of a desk lamp casts long shadows, emphasizing the solitude that accompanies him. He can feel the emptiness inside. The loneliness is not just limited to the empty hallways and rooms of this hospital but has seeped into him as well. He feels a profound sense of emptiness and longing for some company on this festive Christmas Eve. The loneliness was killing his heart.

Meanwhile, MC reaches home as her mind was occupied with only Toshiki. Seeing an empty apartment on a festive season doesn't fail to make her remember how she is used to always stay cooped up in her room with either work or spending time with herself. She grapples with the bittersweet struggle of preparing a festive meal for two, the missing half haunting every joyful decoration. An unopened gift waits beneath the tree, a symbol of shared moments postponed. Her phone buzzes with holiday wishes from family and friends, yet each cheerful message accentuates the void of the absence of him. Amid the laughter and festivities, an unspoken ache lingers, a connection strained by the miles that separate them on this Christmas night.

She gets lost in her thoughts as she sees the festive nightscape. The Christmas lights were the only things that welcomed her home that night. Everything looks perfect, almost too perfect, yet empty as it couldn’t replace the warm and cheerful presence that she is missing beside her, with him being far away in London. As she looks down from the window of his apartment, she feels a sense of longing for her beloved that holy night.

[3 hours later, same night]

Back in London, almost several hours pass as the surgery gets over. It's successful, as he comes out of the operation theatre, and it's already midnight. He couldn't help but be reminded of how he used to work himself to death during the festive seasons so as to not feel lonely. He couldn't help but reminded of his nagging friend Mitsuharu, who made sure he enjoys every day and is not left out.

In the quiet moments, his mind involuntarily drifts back to a time when Christmas was a tapestry of warmth and joy. He recalls the comforting scent of freshly baked cookies, the twinkling lights adorning the family tree, and the contagious laughter echoing through the cozy living room. Each memory becomes a sepia-toned vignette, a stark contrast to the antiseptic hum of the hospital. In those brief reveries, nostalgia dances with the harsh reality of the present, creating a poignant symphony of longing for the holiday magic of yesteryears.

The memory of his mother planting different flowers for him in winter and the snowdrops blooming around their home brings a smile to his lips. He remembers the memories of snow falling and he and his mother enjoying the snow together. He realizes how these good memories of his childhood were something which is missing on Christmas, and how his adulthood was, missing those memories. As he walks out of the hospital, he feels the warmth and the magic of Christmas in his life missing.

[Next morning]

Toshiki's eyes flutter open feeling the sunlight hitting his visage. He feels a little relieved when he realizes the surgery is over and he did not have to lose a patient. He was worried about that. But he realizes how he is missing every small moment in the morning after a Christmas night with her. The empty spot next to him in bed, the small moments of having a Christmas morning coffee with her, the feeling of her hand in his hand as he would wish her a Merry Christmas, the small gestures of love in the morning... All these small things were missing.

"MC…”

His fingertips graze over the spot next to him in bed. As he was deep in his thoughts, he suddenly remembers a conversation he had with his friend Mitsuharu about Christmas. They were talking about the meaning of Christmas and as always, Mitsuharu was not able to understand or appreciate much of what he was saying. He always felt that Mitsuharu could never truly understand the real essence of Christmas.

Soon, he gets ready to board the plane. Kasumi’s thoughts were all about Christmas and about the missing pieces of it inside him. He begins questioning the meaning of Christmas in his mind. He was deeply troubled by the thoughts of so many people suffering, so many missing out on the joy and happiness of Christmas. A time meant for happiness and togetherness is becoming a time of despair and loneliness for so many. How could he possibly feel happy in a world where such a condition was the reality?

[13 hours later, that evening]

As the plane lands in Tokyo, he can now feel the darkness of reality seeping in him as he proceeds towards the airport exit. He is worried that this darkness may affect his meeting with her. But, he keeps his emotions hidden behind a mask of his calm and composed self.

*He reaches his apartment soon, as his hand is now over the door handle. Maybe a hug from his beloved would calm him down? Toshiki muses, as he unlocks the door. The sight of the beautifully illuminated Christmas tree and the living room makes him pause, as he feels a little surprised by the scene. For a second, he feels happy to see how well she has kept the house decorated, only to realize that the person that he wanted to be welcomed by the most was missing.

"MC?"

Maybe she is outside? His thoughts seem to linger on her absence from the scene, as he walks about the living room, looking around at how beautifully everything has been set up. He even checks the kitchen in case she is there, but it was in vain. The feeling of her missing seems to be pervading the whole scene. The Christmas decoration seems to not be able to bring the warmth it used to bring when she was there. The beautiful scene lacks her presence. She should've at least let him know that she would go out, he wonders.

He takes his phone to look for text messages from her, and is surprised to find none. Maybe she went somewhere to do something? Maybe she got called in by the hospital? Or maybe she wanted to surprise him by showing him the decorations? This was becoming more and more disturbing and troubling for him, as the time ticked by.

As he was lost in his thoughts and worries and was about to call Takado to ask about her, a text message arrives for him, making a small ding sound. He looks at it quickly, thinking it could be from her, but to his disappointment, it was from Matsunaga - a patient has requested to meet him at the nearby amusement park, and he has to go as the patient is very important.

Kasumi was surprised at the news of such a patient request. How was he supposed to go and see some patient when she was missing? But maybe, she went to Asuka's or Missy's and forgot to tell him? He settles on this thought, and sends her a quick text, as he steps outside his apartment.

[That night, amusement park]

He reaches the amusement park and is amazed to see the colorful illuminations everywhere. There is so much to see and so many places to explore. It is like the park has turned into a fairy land. He is surprised by how much the park has been transformed. But instead of being lost in the beauty of it, he starts to wonder why the patient has asked him to come here. Maybe the patient wanted him to see this? But whatever the reason is that the patient has called him here, was unable to distract him from thinking about her.

He sees people with their families, friends and loved ones everywhere. Everyone was enjoying the festivity. This sight brings a sense of loneliness inside him. Everyone was enjoying the day with their loved ones around them. And here he was, all alone. No family with him, no close friend by his side, no MC by his side. His isolation seems to be making the festival a bit difficult for him to bear. He was trying to stop his negative thoughts looking at the illuminations, but the feeling of loneliness was only making it more difficult.

"Isn't that pretty?"

He snaps out of his thoughts, as hears a familiar voice, and feels a familiar presence near him. Was he hallucinating? Probably... cause he heard her voice. He slowly turns to find the owner of the voice. His heart skips a beat finding that it was indeed his beloved, his MC, looking so beautiful with her gaze on him, that she could be the most beautiful ornament in that entire festivity. She was all covered up in a fluffy jacket and was wearing a scarf around her neck, as she smiles at him.

"Welcome back, Toshiki."

For once, the dark emperor had no words. His face lights up to her beautiful greeting. He is unable to reply back, as they both look at each other with a feeling of happiness. The moment was like a spell of kindness that they both are casting over each other, making them both drown in a strange euphoria where there were no words to describe the feeling. Nothing felt like moving, But it just felt perfect. He felt an almost unbelievable sense of love and closeness between them.

"MC, you-"

"Ah, that's right. It's late, but belated merry Christmas."

Kasumi smiles as she gives him a small box. He takes the box in his hands, observing it a bit. He feels a little hesitant to open it but after a few seconds, he decides to open it. Soon, he sees something shining brightly with its beautiful brilliance... a promise ring. He is amazed at how well crafted it looked. He looks up at her, with a feeling of gratitude and appreciation in his eyes. She laughs awkwardly seeing him, as she caresses her hair.

"Well, I know that this might seem cringe, as we are not allowed to wear rings at work, but- I just wanted to give you something which reminds you that you always have me by your side."

"..."

"Um... are you angry, as I orchestrated all this, and didn't inform you? You haven't said a word to me."

He only smiles hearing that, shakes his head and holds her hands more tightly. Instead of answering, he wraps his arms around her, capturing her attention with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Gently, he places a warm kiss on the tip of her nose, the laughter in his voice painting the moment with affection.

"Your nose is red and rosy like a reindeer's..."

"Mm?"

She blinks in surprise as she feels a soft sensation on her nose, not knowing exactly what happened. At her startled expression, he couldn't resist any longer. He pulls her close to him and kisses her nose, her cheeks, and her eyes. Her reaction to his moves is making him go all out. Soon, he pulls away, looking at her, and hugs her.

His thoughts begin to wander with a sort of peace. He realizes that it's not selfish to want things for him. He was a human, after all. But who made him human, was her. Instead of overthinking about the people who meet with tragic incidents and don't get to spend their holidays with loved ones, it's far better to focus on working so that they get better soon. And at the same time, it's okay to desire for happiness, for a loved one. It doesn't make him selfish. He begins to realize the importance of enjoying the happy moments of life. It was only when he had met her that he realized that there was no harm in wanting things for him. A love like hers, like a pure ray of sunlight, has a way to make his thoughts brighter and better. Meeting her made him realize that there’s nothing wrong to be wanting things for himself. It showed him that true love wouldn’t make him selfish; and that it would be okay to ask selfish for your beloved. It was okay to desire for happiness with her.

Maybe this was the intention of his friend Mitsuharu too. He didn't want Toshiki to spend Christmas all alone by himself, so he pretended to not like Christmas parties and all, and instead hung out with him by dragging him to his home.

As his thoughts continue to wander through this idea, he realizes that all this time he was overthinking and overanalyzing things. Instead of enjoying his life and letting happiness happen to him, he was worried about thinking too much on things that didn't matter. Now he is realizing that he doesn't have to be so self-critical. Instead of being so cautious and strict towards him, he can let his guard down and let happiness happen; he too can be a little selfish and desire to have a little happiness for himself. Maybe that's the way to enjoy life more and fully.

She looks at him as she finds him delved in thoughts.

"Toshiki? You okay?"

"Yes, I am fine. Don't worry about me. I was just going through some thoughts but now I realized how pointless these thoughts are. It is pointless to overthink about things and always think that things will be bad. Instead, one can sit back and enjoy things sometimes. That is a far better thing to do."

"Is that so? That's good..."

He can feel her uneasiness about him. She is still feeling concerned for him. So, he thinks of something to make her feel better. He has had his realization, he has had his moment of introspection, now is time to bring her back from her uneasiness.

"But, before I let myself chill out and relax, there is something I wanna do."

"Mm?"

He smiles shyly and brings her close. He brings his forehead to her forehead and speaks quietly to her.

"You know, I haven't thanked you for the promise ring that you gave me. But I wanted to thank you. I don't have words to describe its beautiful craftsmanship, but I can tell you that this ring holds a special meaning to me. So, thank you very much. I will be keeping this with me always, and I will always have you by my side."

"Oh... I am happy if you liked it. No need to thank me."

She smiles and extends her hand to him.

"Let's go home and make up for the Christmas time we missed yesterday."

He smiles and takes her hand, intertwining his fingers in hers. To him, she is the warmth of his heart. All the worries and stress melt away to make way for a sense of peace and love that has taken over him. He feels like he has found the ultimate happiness in his life, as he walks with her hand in hand. The rings shine on their fingers; the beauty around them is just an added bonus, for he does not need anything to look beautiful with her beside him. Her presence alone makes everything beautiful and magical for him.

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#romance md #love 365 #romance md: always on call #voltage inc #toshiki kasumi #nintendo switch #rmd #lys's writings #fictions #100恋+#100シーンの恋+#the writing style's a bit different this time hope it doesn't bother you!#munechika takado #eiichi matsunaga

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