#a royal christmas ball

[gacmediadaily]

from Danica's IG

[emvidal]

[woso-dreamzzz]

Ma'am: Christmas

Aitana Bonmatí x Royal!Reader

Summary: Christmas in the Ma'am Universe

"Is it worth setting Real Madrid on fire?" You wonder aloud as you lay across three different seats in the friends and family box, throwing a tennis ball up and down thoughtfully.

"I'm afraid that might cause a diplomatic incident, ma'am," Your ever present bodyguard says gruffly," It doesn't belong to you."

You sigh, long and drawn out. "I guess." You think for a moment before sitting up. "Should I buy it? And then set it on fire?"

Your bodyguard, tall and serious and dressed entirely in black and wearing shades you're ninety percent sure means he can't see anything when the sun goes down, doesn't even let his lip twitch. You suppose he's meant to be intimidating with his stocky shoulders and large frame but he's holding your puppy Rufus, fast asleep in his arms, and shivering slightly in the cold air.

"Well?"

He sighs. "Why would you want to do that, ma'am?"

"For a Christmas present. For Aitana. It would make her happy, I think. For Real Madrid not to exist anymore."

"Has Her Royal Highness asked you that?"

"Well...no...but-"

"Then perhaps it's best that you refrain from that, ma'am."

You huff. "I don't think I want you holding the prince anymore."

That manages to get an upwards quirk of the lip from him though as you take poor sleepy Rufus from his arms. "Don't worry, Rufus," You whisper to him as you both watch Aitana walk onto the pitch with the team," We'll find something for your Mami that she'll love for Christmas."

Christmas for you have always involved pomp and ceremony and now that includes Aitana too. The family had their traditions and you were expected to abide by them.

Aitana hadn't really thought about how her life would change by marrying you. A lot of it hadn't. She could stay in Spain and with Barcelona and still play football. She could come home to the apartment you and her lived in with yappy little Rufus where you'll be at the stove, cooking up some monstrosity that she would eventually save you from after showering.

But this was Christmas and you were both expected at the Sandringham Estate to celebrate with the family so it wasn't going to be a quiet, private Christmas spent with just the two of you.

You had your traditions, which is what Aitana assumed this was.

"A present? It's the start of December."

"I can't give my wife a gift?"

No matter how many times you said it, Aitana could never stop the smile appearing on her face at that word.

Wife.

Your wife.

It was the new title that Aitana loved the most.

Because that was what she was.

Your wife.

"I...I haven't gotten you anything extra," She says," Was I meant to?"

You shake your head, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to her lips. "I'm the one that's changing Christmas for you. It's going to be different this year so I'm sorry. It's the least I could do."

"You're so sweet."

You grin. "I was planning on setting Real Madrid on fire but I was persuaded not to."

Aitana laughs, another kiss landing on you.

The gifts pile up after that.

For every day leading up to Christmas. Not one day is missed and you're both there to watch her open it, in front of the Christmas tree and happy little Rufus and his silly little puppy smile.

Jewellery, clothes and more practical things like a new pair of boots because her own were getting worn out or a book series she'd only mentioned wanting once in parting.

The gifts piled up and you didn't even seem to care for anything in return except for maybe a kiss.

"Tell me what we're doing later," Aitana says as you both lay back on the bed in the private jet," What should I expect?"

You'd delayed it as long as possible, letting Aitana have that private holiday season she had wanted. But you couldn't delay it forever so early Christmas Eve, had you both (and Rufus) flying back to England to join your family.

Aitana's fingers trace a pattern over the skin of your arm as you relax back into the pillows.

"Well William likes to play a game of football before dinner," You tell her," I expect you to show him how it's done and win. He's so excited to see your skills up close. But he'll be wearing stupid Aston Villa socks so be sure to tell him he looks stupid."

"So win a football match? I can do that."

"We do presents on Christmas Eve too. And then when all the kids go to bed we have a black tie dinner. I checked with Father though and our son can stay up and come."

Aitana laughs. "You don't have to keep referring to Rufus as our son, you know."

You frown. "Why wouldn't I? He is our son."

She laughs again. "What's next? Christmas Day? What do we do then?"

"Well, we usually go to a Christmas service but you don't have to come if you don't want to. After that, we'll have to go back to Buckingham Palace. That's where Father wants to broadcast his speech from this year."

"And we're coming too?"

You grin at her, biting your lip and leaning close to whisper in her ear. "I'm saving up a present for you. But you can't tell anyone."

"I can keep a secret."

And it's a secret Aitana does keep for the next day.

She does end up on a cold, English football pitch against your eldest brother and she does end up humiliating him much to your delight.

She plays circles around everyone like the professional she is and chooses William wearing the Barcelona kit instead of his favoured Aston Villa one as her forfeit.

Her pile of presents is large and not even all of them are from you but the ones that are, are her favourite.

Your own presents range from things you actual enjoy and want (from people like your father and auntie Anne) to gag gifts like one particular shirt planted with Aitana's face from your brother that you wear proudly before being forced to take it off for dinner.

"See," You whisper to Aitana with a grin," Not all English food is bad."

She looks down at her roast thoughtfully and purses her lips, fighting back a smile.

You poke her cheek. "Is that a grin? Is it? I think it is! I knew I would convince you one day!"

Aitana allows a weak smile on her face. "There's outliers in every cuisine," Is all she offers," I stand by what I said. Spanish food is better."

"Yeah," You laugh," That's why you've been eating all the Yorkshire puddings."

"They're nice! You should make these at home."

You kiss her hand with a wink. "As Her Royal Highness commands."

It's not the first time Aitana's been to Buckingham Palace but there's a different feel to it during the holidays. There's a tree in practically every room and festive lights hung up everywhere they can be fit.

You're giggling as you lead her through the halls, a pretty smile on your red cheeked face. You had a bit of liquid courage earlier in the form of a spiked eggnog that Kate had given to you before you and Aitana set off back to London with your father and his wife.

"Where are we going?" Atiana giggles as well," What is it?"

"Okay," You say, finally skidding to a halt in front of a pair of ornate doors," Close your eyes."

"You can't be serious-"

"Please? It'll ruin the surprise!"

"Fine."

Atiana closes her eyes and allows you to lead her into the room.

"Careful," You warn her," We're going up some steps. And then turn...Yeah, like that...And sit."

"Can I open my eyes now?"

"Just give me a moment."

Something is placed on her head and Aitana gets the feeling that she knows where she is.

"Okay," You say," Open."

You're on your knees in front of her, head pillowed on her thigh as you sit between her legs on the little dais.

"Beautiful," You say.

"You know I'm not meant to be sitting on this," Aitana says though she makes no movement to lift herself off the throne.

"But it suits you."

Aitana hums, lips pressed together thoughtfully as you plant a small kiss on the inside of her thigh. "You spoil me."

"Yes."

She frowns. "You'd do anything I asked."

"Don't say it like it's a bad thing," You say, eyes wide earnestly," It's not a bad thing. I'll do anything for you."

"Even now?"

You nod. "Even now."

Aitana grins at you, some of her own liquid courage swirling around her body as she widens her legs and fists her hand in your hair.

"I think you know where I want you."

[lokisgoodgirl]

In the Bleak Midwinter [Loki x Reader]

A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: On a mandatory Christmas Avengers Getaway, resident Scrooge Loki discovers there is warmth to be found. (w/c 3.4k) Warnings: None, really. Fluff. Bit of angst. Brief reference to erotic fantasy. Loki in his Christmas feels. A/N: Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays & Season's Greetings my loves❤️ I hope all your days are merry & bright. 🎄

Loki’s hands dug deeper in his pockets with every methodical crunch of his boots into the snow.

The outline of the church was visible; the kind reproduced on a hundred greetings cards which had landed in Loki’s fanmail these past weeks. The cards, at least, he could ignore. Tony Stark’s ‘Olde Christmastime getaway’, it seemed, he could not.

The small church had a thick, proud steeple; old uneven walls arranged on either side in a way he was sure his brother would imminently compare to a cock and balls.

"Brother," Thor chittered madly beside him. "Doesn’t the dwelling yonder resemble—?"

Loki yanked a hand from his pocket and brushed it along a low wall running adjacent to the path. He lobbed a clutch of snow into Thor’s ruddy face and kept walking. He was in no mood for japes.

His eyes stung from the sharp, needling cold. The night was clear, and only his breath fogged the view of this place the gaggle of Avengers who insisted on ‘involving’ him hadn’t stopped wittering on about for months. Soon, they would realise he only spoiled the occasion. A perennially cracked door sending a draught through their warm surroundings.

A carol concert, he mused bitterly, shaking his head for the third time since leaving the toasted seclusion of his armchair at the lodge. Of all things he did not wish to partake in this weekend, the carol concert occupied prime position on Loki’s list of grievances.

I will go, he’d decided as Thor had forcibly manoeuvred Loki’s coat onto his body. But I shall not make merry. Loki of Asgard would not be caught dead engaging publicly in festive frivolities of any kind. Of that, he was resolved.

A soft, amber glow pulsed at the criss-crossed windows of the church. With a swell of hope, he wondered if the building was, in fact, unsalvageably ablaze. Perhaps, there would be no carol concert after all.

A vision of the cup of spiced wine he’d been rudely separated from flashed through his mind. Perhaps, it would still be steaming on his imminent return. Thor yanked his arm roughly towards the wooden doors with one thick mitten emblazoned with crudely stitched glazed hams.

"Un-hand me. This is Armani, you cretin."

"We’re already late, and I don’t want to miss a second. Besides, there are candles. You love candles."

Loki sighed. It didn’t surprise him that Thor had fallen for this seasonal, mortal farce. The fact that they were once worshipped and celebrated thus in their own realm had escaped Thor in a way it had not escaped Loki. It was to be expected, but still, as his cheeks pinched against the cold, it grated.

Behind wood and stone, an organ groaned to life and a low chorus of unsure voices rose.

“Once in Royal David’s City, Stood a lowly cattle shed…”

Thor yanked harder and Loki felt his feet unroot from the crushed ice. The voices were stronger now, coming together as one, melodious snake slithering against his iced eardrums.

Thor paused with one mitten on an iron knob, the other fastened to Loki’s Armani. Snot dangled from his nose. “Try and be nice.”

“I’m always nice.” His brother’s eyes narrowed and he relented. “Courteous, at least.”

Thor’s lips pinched. “You know what I mean���Festive.” Loki would have rolled his eyes if he weren’t sure they were frozen. He released a snort of fogged air from his nose instead. “Open the door lest we both expire in this winterous wasteland,” he said, and Thor’s face brightened.

“That’s more like it.”

The church was warmer than he’d expected. He stood at the threshold and brushed a dusting of snow from his cuffs as Thor lumbered down the aisle and made a cartoonish, indelicate attempt to sidle his bulk into a row; a boisterous whispering of apologies clashing with the turn of the organ.

“When, like stars, His children crowned All in white, shall wait around…”

Loki flinched as the voices tapered and the organist released a crescendo of bone-shuddering notes. And then, he stumbled.

“Norns,” he growled, a little too loudly in the incense-heavy silence.

He regained his balance and looked down at the small child looking up at him with wide, shining eyes. They were holding out a booklet with curled, yellowed edges. Shoddy workmanship, Loki thought as he took it with a curt nod and turned it over.

St Barnabas Church Carol Concert, it read, accompanied by a garish cartoon holly faded to a light beige. The years below it, beginning at 2002, had been scored out until whomever was in charge gave up in 2014. He sniffed, observing the child with suspicion. "I don't have any coin, if that is what you seek.”

The child’s hand was touching his hand; her small fingers like matchsticks curled around his own. She wore a sheepskin jacket that was a size too big. Not tailored, clearly, and the collar hid her mouth—yet he could tell she was smiling. He glanced to the side, noticing for the first time that every member of the audience was staring.

Natasha hung out of a row halfway down, a black fur hat low on her brow, and beckoned to the little girl. “He’s with us,” she hissed. The organ burst to life with some other musical hokum in defiance of the interruption.

Loki looked back to the little mortal. She said nothing, just led him at a glacial, imperious pace down the aisle and stopped at the correct row. Her auburn curls shimmered in the low light, bouncing.

“Oh, guess there’s no room at the inn…” Natasha winked. “Go behind.”

Loki met his brother’s smug grin one row back. He knew that smile: the plotting smile.

The small pocket of warmth that had been growing in his belly extinguished. And then, he noticed who stood beside him at the end of the row. Loki swallowed.

Thor had all but climbed over you in order to ensure it would be he, Loki of Asgard, standing beside you like a stiff, tuneless, merryless fool. His eyes slid back to his brother, sucking in his cheeks, wondering if punching out a sibling’s teeth was considered ‘festive’.

“There’s room, don’t worry…” you whispered, shuffling your gloves further along the scratched, wooden pew. The smile playing on your lips made Loki want to carve out his own heart in longing.

He edged gingerly into place, staring at the booklet in his hands. And then, your fingers were touching his, moving the pages, your woody perfume thick in his nostrils. He closed his eyes, willing the stir in his groin to cease. His brother would perish for this.

“Your hands are cold,” you whispered, giving his knuckle a brief rub with one, elegant finger. Like my heart. Loki swallowed again, observing the attendees and trying to ignore the unmistakeable correlation of your hot breath skating his neck to the twitch beneath his trousers.

The church was packed. Families, lovers, white-haired humans swaying and their creaking voices tumbling with the rest; the booklets resting unopened. They knew every word.

He fixated on the stone altar, the golden casket behind it glittering in the light. It reminded him of the Tesseract, and with that memory came a familiar twinge of guilt like the slip of a knife between his ribs.

“Oh little town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie... "

He moved his lips out of time, faintly recognising the music. As much as he’d tried to avoid it this year and last, the songs playing from your room in the Tower come December 1 were hard to ignore. And perhaps, if he were honest, he hadn’t tried very hard.

You always sang along to them when your mind wandered. It was the only part of Christmas he’d come to favour. And the candles: those too.

“Above thy deep and dreamless sleep The silent stars go by…”

Your finger traced along the lines of the book you shared as if he were a child. He should be insulted; and yet there was something about the tender movement, and your shoulder pressed to his that made him want to nest in this moment and never leave. Your voice was different here. It had a meeker cadence, as though you were stifling the volume and its capabilities to as not to embarrass the quality of those around you.

I’ve heard how she really sounds, he thought smugly as he cast a quick glance at his brother. Perhaps I’m the only one who has.

Thor held the booklet at arm’s length, a millimetre from the back of Stark's head, the baritone of his singing rivalling the organ. His neck swivelled slowly towards Loki. He winked.

“Yet in thy dark streets shineth The everlasting Light…” Loki inhaled sharply, before fitting the words into the repetitive notes with a whisper. “The hopes and fears of all the years,” he sang quietly, voice hoarse. “Are met in thee tonight.”

You squeezed his bicep, the heel of your palm resting on his forearm. Loki stiffened, missing the start of the following verse. He turned fractionally, meeting your eyes glittering in the light of a hundred candles flickering. Gods, you were so beautiful.

He tore away.

Stop it, he chided, letting his eyes focus and refocus on a thick, white candle dripping rivulets near the altar.

He couldn’t afford the weakness that sentiment brought. One had to be wary of sentiment at this Christmastime of theirs. It was too easy to be tricked by the lure of cinnamon and the twinkle of lights like stars; drunk on new beginnings and the gluttony of temporary happiness. Loki knew what came of such things for him. He didn’t intend to make the same mistakes. Not here.

The carols began, and ended. And with each one, Loki felt the itch of sweat grow beneath his armpits, seeping into the fine cotton shirt. Five carols ago, the god had to ban himself from touching his hair like a senseless virgin. It was intolerable; to have you so close, to smell the linger of spiced gingerbread latte on your breath as your tongue shaped across each lyric, and do nothing. And what would you do? Kiss her? Force yourself upon her like an animal? He stilled the fidget of the hand hanging at his side.

You were kind, that was all. Pleasantries. Courtesies. You wanted him no more than he wanted to be at this godsforsaken carol concert.

The hand balancing the booklet began to tremble as intrusive thoughts formed in his mind of you and he curled under a blanket, barely watching those Muppet creatures he’d seen in passing, your soft whimpers as he sank inside you and rocked your curves gently against him. If the spiced wine grew cold then, he would not mind so much, perhaps.

His grip tightened on the booklet. “O’ Come, all ye faithful…” “I can’t do this,” he whispered, his brow scrunched. Your grip on his arm loosened. “Joyful and triumphant…” “Are you okay?” The journey of his gaze to your face seemed to take an age. Half of your skin was bathed in a soft, orange glow; the other shadowed as the chorus of voices grew louder; happier. A line had formed across your forehead. Concern? Maybe. Fear? Most likely.

Most of your hair was tucked under a hat, and yet he knew every strand beneath it. He’d envisioned the texture beneath his fingers more times than he had admitted to anyone. Even his Judas of a ham-fisted, scheming brother.

“I have to go." The flap of his overcoat hit the pew in a swirl and his boots were clicked on the bare stone floor towards the doorway. Eyes followed him, but he paid them no heed. They were better off without him. Within the small vestibule at the exit, a stout old man arranged a tray of mince pies. He turned just as Loki thundered past. “Oi,” the man hissed in a broad, Yorkshire accent. “Don’t forget yer pie.”

A foil-bedded pastry was thrust up towards Loki’s face as he fumbled with the door.

Loki paused, looked at it, and then the man. He had ragged, grey hair and a face carved with a thousand frowns. A worthy adversary.

Loki briefly considered making the pastry explode in a shrapnel of raisons, sighed, and thought better of it. As though they were not his own, his fingers plucked the small comestible from the old man’s hand.

“Wife made ‘em,” he said proudly, searching Loki’s face before his lips stretched in a smile over crooked, tombstone teeth. “Merry Christmas.” Loki mumbled something, twisted the knocker and fell out into the cold, crisp air. The god’s pulse pounded in his throat as he crunched down the path towards the crumbling gateposts; wind playing at the sides of his coat with delicate hands. At the boundary, he stopped. Loki steadied on a gatepost, head drooping. Hair fell around his face, fluttering against his flushed skin. “Are you going to eat that?”

He jumped, twisting around. There you stood, resplendent in moonlight from above and the glow of fresh fallen snow below. Your jaw worked; half a mince pie clutched in the hand not buried in your pocket. “They’re really good actually,” you said, pastry scattering from your lips before covering your mouth with a shy eye roll.

Loki’s lips tweaked. “Clearly. I wasn’t going to but now…I’m not so sure. It seems a valuable boon after all.”

At that, you nodded, crunching closer as you popped the remainder of the mince pie into your mouth. He spun around, gazing up to the sky, rolling his lips. She loves Christmas. Do not destroy it for her.

And then, you were at his shoulder. “So, about that mince pie…” There was a slyness in your voice that made him want to pin you against the gatepost and kiss you until you felt faint; until you couldn’t remember your own name, only his. He cupped a hand protectively over the pie, looking at you beneath his lashes.

“And what if I won’t part with it?” You shrugged. “Then perhaps I’ll rethink my gift.” His heart sank, ill-gotten confidence fading. Loki had made it very clear last Christmas that he would not partake in the Avengers gifting foolishness. Had you forgotten? His stomach joined his heart somewhere around his boots.

“I…was not expecting a gift,” he said, curling a wedge of hair behind his ear. As he did so, the pie lost balance and fell with a pathetic plop to the snow. The two of you stared at it. “Norns,” Loki said, bereft. You burst out laughing as he began rooting in the hole. “I thought gods were supposed to be nimble, suave—all that stuff.” “Have you met my brother?” “I thought you were different.” The strange slyness was back in your voice. “I thought you were a bit more…”  Loki looked up, breath evaporating from his lungs as moonlight bounced off the fake jewels woven into your hat. She deserves every jewel in the nine realms. And then, you shrugged.

In a move he was sure he would later haunt him as he failed to fall asleep, Loki held the small, snow-laden mince pie aloft. An offering of contrition. Your lips flickered, and to his surprise, you took it. “My sincere apologies,” he mumbled. “It’s just a mince pie, Lokes.” “Not for that…” He sighed. “Were you speaking true about a gift? Because I…” You flapped a hand. “Everyone knows you don���t do gifts, you don’t like Christmas, yadda-yadda. But that’s not the point of gifts. I just…it belonged to you. For when you’re ready. Just…promise you won’t make it explode.”

Before Loki could think of a response, you’d produced a small box wrapped in brown paper from the depths of your jacket. His gaze lingered on it for longer than it should have before he said, “Ah.” Your eyebrows rose. “Are you going to open it?” “Should I?” He turned it over in his hands and your eyebrow rose. “It’s not a trick.” At that, his lips drew to the side. If it was a trick, he wasn’t sure if he was in the right frame of mind to deduce it. Loki’s heart pounded between his ribs, a sharp tang nestling in the back of his throat as he stared at the tightly curled ribbon hanging from the box. He wondered if you’d wrapped it here, or in the Tower, with him next door, lying in bed to the sound of your sporadic singing over Nat King Cole.

Your fingers covered his and tugged the ribbon gently. Loki’s breath hitched, eyes meeting. “Open it,” you ordered, and a hot shiver ran down Loki’s spine.

He pulled the ribbon free, then paused. “You should know…I don’t hate Christmas.” He searched your face. “It’s everything I love, you see. Or at least, I used to. Family, closeness, warmth, the feeling of hope for Spring, sprouting under the joy of light and feasting, the music…”

A lump grew in his throat, and he bit the inside of his lip to stifle it. “I find it easier to forswear, you see. It’s better for everyone that way. It seems that what I love has a habit of turning to ash.”

He didn’t realise he’d been fixated on the box under a gentle touch landed on his arm. When he looked up, you were waiting with glossy eyes, lips parted. “You don’t need to be apart from it, Loki. You deserve it…the same as any of us do.” “But—”

Your finger pressed to his lips, silencing it. “Open the box,” you said again, and the finger slid away. He did as he was bid. Inside was a Christmas bauble, polished to such a sheen he could see the sharp outline of his jaw reflected.

The base was a deep forest green, and on it, gold threads traced runes like frost clinging to spiderweb. “For when you’re ready,” you repeated, softer, as liquid heat flooded his chest. “You belong with us, Loki. I…we, love you.”

“It’s beautiful…I…” He licked his lips, making them tingle in the chill. A grin spread across your face.

“You really like it?” “I love it,” he said, not breaking eye contact. Boldness swelled inside him, lighting up the dusty corners of his frigid heart. You looked away, pulling your jacket tighter. Inside the church, the final flourish of 'O’ Come all Ye Faithful' blared.  He reached out, brushing his knuckles down your puffy bicep.

“You mean it? If you don’t, I can return it…” “I really do.” “Good, because it’s custom, and I can’t return it.” Loki laughed at the same time you did, noting the sparkle of your eyes. He drew you into his arms, memorising the way your bodies slotted together despite the layers, and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I fear I must buy you a gift after all…” he said quietly. You pulled back, looking up at him with absolute sincerity. “What I want doesn’t come from a shop, Loki,” you said, breathless. Your eyes dropped to his lips as you cupped his face, the warmth of your skin sending jolts of pleasure down his spine. “I just want you to be happy, and I want…I want…”

Your words grew faint as flecks of snow began to fall. And with that, his resolve exploded.

The first kiss was tentative, skin brushing over skin as he waited for you to pull away. But your arms were thrown around his shoulders, clawing at the back of his Armani coat, pulling his mouth to yours with the ferocity of a winter sea.

Hot breath seared his throat, desire and adoration so thick it held weight bursting from the secret places he had boarded up and forgotten. All he wanted was you, and this, and Yule—wherever it was, and however it was celebrated. As long as he had you.

Eager lips slid together as one kiss broke and launched into the next. Something sharp and iron was poking into his back from the gatepost, but he didn’t care. It could rip a hole in the coat for all he cared.

As your delicate moans heightened, and your fingers knotted tighter into his hair, the applause started.

The two of you broke, twisting as one towards the band of a dozen Avengers making their way down the path. Natasha had her arms spread; eyes wide. Thor was frozen in place, mittens pressed to his cheeks with a soundless scream of glee. Scott was passing money to Sam, and then Tony, too. “It’s a Christmas…miracle,” Thor screeched.

"Sweet baby Jesus..." Stark muttered, fingers jammed in his ears as Loki drew you tighter to his chest, not caring if you felt the leap of his heart through thick wool. Your hand slipped through a gap, drinking the warmth of him, and when your eyes met; Loki couldn’t breathe. “When we return to New York, I shall need a Christmas tree to hang my gift,” he whispered, placing a kiss above your ear. You giggled into his snow dusted collar. “You can always start next year- no pressure.”

Loki cast a glance over the smiling figures bundled in bobble hats and thick scarves, to the amber-lit windows, to the snow stretching over hills and faintly glowing homes scattered across them.

“I’ve waited long enough,” he murmured. And then, to the sound of cheers louder than the organ, he kissed you again.

Tags in comments 🎄✨

[devildomwriter]

Parties For Hosting | Diavolo x Reader

1.3k+ words | Stressed GN! Reader | Established relationship | CW: some anxiety

It’s time for the first party you’re helping Diavolo host as his newly announced fiancée. As the human who captured the heart of the prince and the one who introduced them to Christmas you’re very anxious about it all but with Diavolo by your side everything will always be just fine.

Your heart beat quickly in your chest and a smile was plastered across your face as you stood next to the future demon king—your fiancé.

Diavolo radiated happiness and powerful energy you couldn’t put into words. He was a natural at hosting parties but this time was your very first—at least the first time after being publically announced as his fiancée.

You were well aware there was opposition and that many of the angered demons were here at this party. Nevertheless, you were expected to be just as gracious of a host. After all, you were the royal consort to be.

You did your best to give off Princess Diana’s energy, or perhaps former Princess Mako. Two royals you unquestionably respected for being genuinely kind people who didn’t bend under the pressure of royal duty and chose their own paths in life.

Diavolo was aware this was a lot of pressure on a human so this first party with you at his side he intended to be shorter than usual. He hoped no one would blame you for the evening coming to a close sooner than later but he was also sure that many noble demons still weren’t in the habit of celebrating Christmas as the two of you were doing.

The palace was decorated with holly, Ivy, red ribbons, red and gold ornaments, pine, and other images symbolic of Christmas. It was stunningly beautiful, but no beauty could compare to Diavolo in his specially tailored suit, smiling warmly at his citizens.

Every few moments he glanced at you and was relieved to see you were smiling. Diavolo was probably more stressed than you were, worrying about you.

After the greetings ended you took your place at a table and waited patiently for food. Diavolo stood up with a golden chalice in the air and stretched out his hand for you, eyes beaming. You smiled and accepted his hand, standing next to him as the party guests trained their eyes on you both.

“A toast,” Diavolo declared and everyone raised their chalices, including you. Diavolo turned to you, pride evident in his gaze. “To this wonderful Christmas Ball which I am pleased to announce was planned entirely by my wonderful fiancée.”

You blushed as he began to sing your praises. “I want you all to know that every drink you have, every bite of food, every smile you wear, every pleasant moment you share tonight is all thanks to them. I know Christmas is a holiday we still are not used to and we may celebrate for reasons different than humans but this celebration and time of cheer were introduced to us by them and will remain a staple of our culture from now on,” he continued.

He smiled and lightly tipped his cup upwards, “to the first Christmas of thousands forevermore,” he declared and simultaneously the crowd of demons repeated his final words.

“Forevermore.”

Eventually, eyes fell away from you and to the demons, the guests attended with. Barbatos handed Diavolo his food first and then you. When Diavolo began to eat, it was your turn, after that everyone else was free to begin their meal but not before you.

It was still so strange, to see for yourself how much power you now wielded even without marriage or the title of royal consort.

Diavolo watched you as you ate and finally was able to address you casually for the first time that night as the room was filled with chatter from everyone else.

“You’re doing wonderfully, ___, as I knew you would,” he complimented, and Barbatos, by his side nodded in agreement.

“The Young Master is correct, for your first public party you’ve done an exceptional job.”

You blushed and thanked them. “It’s thanks to all of you.”

Diavolo shook his head, “nonsense. I meant every word of my toast, none of this would’ve been possible without you. We may not be celebrating this without you. Had we trusted every word of Solomon who grew up in a completely different time…well I worry what the celebration may have looked like.”

“That’s true,” you chuckled and Diavolo grinned, glad to see you at ease.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” He asked you, still somewhat concerned.

“As long as I’m by your side,” you explained and he laughed joyfully.

“Excellent. I feel the same way. You know I used to hate doing this sort of thing. I had to do it to keep up the relationship between the royal family and the nobility and aristocracy. It was quite boring on my own. The seven brothers certainly livened things up for me but until now I was still so very alone all while being surrounded by others.”

You nodded sympathetically and his sad smile faded as he looked you in the eyes and covered his mouth quickly to hide a laugh.

You blushed and turned to Barbatos quickly, “Barbatos?”

He too covered his mouth and quickly took out a handkerchief to dab the corner of your mouth. “Just a bit of spice,” he chuckled and you looked down bashfully.

Diavolo found it amusing that no matter what you ate something always ended up on your face where it shouldn’t be. Now that you were a public figure you’d worked very hard to avoid this and be more mannerly but it didn’t seem to pay off in the end.

“Don’t pout dear, this is the cleanest I’ve seen your face after eating before, you did a wonderful job.”

That did not help your pride at all.

When the tables were cleared everyone moved to the ballroom, to the part you were most worried about.

Lucifer and his brothers looked at you. Mammon gave a thumbs up and Asmo clapped his hands together and exclaimed words of affirmation. Leviathan wished you luck, Beelzebub was still eating something and Belphegor yawned and told you not to panic.

It was finally time for the first dance. As the royal couple, you and Diavolo would naturally lead the ball into the dancing. You’d practiced day and night until your feet hurt and Diavolo made you stop out of concern. You knew the steps by heart but you had chronically bad luck combined with poor balance so the doubt ate away at your mind.

Diavolo looked forward confidently so you mimicked the behavior and held your head high like a true royal.

The crowd clapped for you both as you proudly stepped into the room.

Lucifer sat at the piano, the spotlight briefly on him and then to the small choir of live musicians which the angels and Solomon had joined.

Solomon winked at you and Luke and Simeon gave friendly waves as Raphael gave a small smile, rare for him and very encouraging. You hoped this meant they worked a little magic and with this comfort, you confidently held Diavolo’s hands in yours as the spotlight shone brightly on you both illuminating even the small particles floating in the air.

You took a deep breath and Diavolo gave you a love-struck smile that tugged at your heartstrings. Lucifer began to play the piano and gently and swiftly you and Diavolo made every step exactly as you had planned it.

You were so relaxed in this moment that you forgot anyone was around you. Instead of finding faces in the crowd, your eyes were fixed on the shining golden eyes of your lover.

For the first time that night, the anxiety melted away and you wore a genuine smile without fear of the public eye, without worry of tumors, without dread you would make a fool of yourself; because none of that mattered.

All that mattered with the gentle embrace you shared with Diavolo as you danced, the way his fingers laced with yours, the way you both matched each other’s rhythm with such precision it was impossible to deny that Diavolo had found the one.

The demons who’d come to the party with their noses in the air about you, the ones who gave hateful or doubtful glances, they were all too stunned to speak. There was absolutely nothing that could be said in protest of what they saw before them—The demon prince and the human he loved more than anything in the three worlds.

[miminist]

you bewitched me, from the first time that you kissed me

summary: at the royal ball, kuroo pulls you into a hidden alcove for a stolen kiss, where the tension of your forbidden love intensifies with the risk of discovery. content: knight!kuroo x princess!reader, small make-out session, suggestive. notes: i'm literally obsessed with kuroo. send help. happy christmas eve or christmas <3

The ballroom was buzzing with all the laughter and chit-chat, the harmonious background music accentuating the importance of tonight’s event. The big crystalline chandeliers shone, casting a golden glow as you danced with a gentleman.

All night, you busied yourself with many gentlemen who insisted on having your hand for the next dance, eager to have your utmost respect and love. Unfortunately, you already had your eyes on someone else.

The melodious song ended, and you bowed, stepping away from the dancing circle before another man came to snatch you away before you could even blink.

As you weave through the crowd of people, you can see how full the ballroom is, making your goal seem rather challenging. You were about to mumble a polite excuse when you felt a strong hand wrap around your wrist and pull you into a secluded alcove.

You were about to fight back when your eyes settled on the person who whisked you away. Your body relaxing as you glared at them, no real heat in it.

“Kuroo! What if someone sees…?" you glanced around, making sure no one could see the two of you.

He pressed a finger to your lips as if to shush you. "Relax, Princess. No one saw."

His tall frame looms over you, the heat of his body seeping through his ceremonial armor. "You looked like a damsel in distress out there," he murmurs, his voice deep. "Thought I’d save you."

"You’re reckless," your fingers instinctively curl into the fabric of his tunic, pulling him closer to you, your words coming out in a whisper.

"Only when it comes to you..." he replies, leaning closer. His amber eyes flicker to your lips, and the noise of the ballroom fades into the background as you two forget where you are.

His hands find your waist, pulling you flush against him as your lips meet his. The kiss is slow at first, deliberate, but quickly deepens as the weight of your longing takes over. The risk of discovery only fuels the passion, and you clutch him tighter, losing yourself in the stolen moment as his hands squeeze you tightly.

When the distant sound of footsteps approaching startles you, he pulls back, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, "Meet me later, Princess. I’m not done with you yet."

Those were the last words he said before you two parted, the kiss and his promise lingering in the back of your mind as you counted the seconds to be with him again.

miminist © 2024

[ratatatastic]

EXCUSE ME HELLO WHERES YOUR FIC????

every new picture dropped from the media day merch shoot truly another angel gets its wings

[cutiecusp]

Edelweiss

König x Royal! Reader

(Part two of the Regency AU!)

A Royal visitor from Austria looms over the Ton, and you were the reluctant head of the welcoming committee.

TW/ Regency inaccuracies, soft!König. a kiss (or two)

"Why me?" You ask, as your mother informs you of the evenings plans.

"Because, dearest, you are newly presented to the ton, your sisters are either married off or unavailable." Your mother, the Queen, replies.

You roll your eyes, you had planned on attended the ball, but making a quick escape while you could. You always felt overdressed and stifled in your role, and loved nothing more than to be outdoors in the garden.

"Besides, i hear the King of Austria is looking for a wife," She adds, making you grimace.

Looking for a husband was never expected of you. You were a princess, and it was deemed for you to marry a King when the time was right, but that didn't stop your mother trying to encourage a love match.

Your parents were fortunate, an arranged marriage, but also a love match, if you and your five siblings were to be believed.

You look up from your vanity, eyebrows raised.

"Surely not, Mother. I'm not even sure we speak the same language." You respond, rather crudely.

She just smiles and busies herself with your hair, brushing and pinning it away from your face.

"I hear he is over 6 feet tall, and is an excellent shot." She continues, weaving a braid along the crown of your head.

"What would we have in common?" You ask, picturing a tall behemoth.

"Love works in mysterious ways." Was all she replied.

A few hours later, you find yourself in the ballroom, dressed up like a Christmas tree, opals in your hair and around your neck specifically for your guest. Standing with a glass of lemonade, you hear the excitement as the King is announced.

You had heard he was tall, but you hadn't expected just how tall.

Striding across the ballroom, his eyes were on yours only, pale grey eyes boring into yours.

He greets you with a nod.

"Prinzessin."

"H-hello, Your majesty." You choke out, putting down your glass on the table, before offering your hand. He takes it, and proffers a brief kiss on your gloved hand.

"Forgive me, but i am not the dancing type." He says, a rough accent to his words.

"May we be chaperoned to somewhere quieter, ja?" He asks, his head bent over your smaller frame, looking at you, deeply.

You smile and nod, and urge your maid, Mary to chaperone you both outside. You lead him along the gravel path, the only sound is your footsteps in the cool breeze of the night, leaving the partygoers behind. You stumble and you feel a strong hand grip your upper arm, preventing you from falling, His body close enough to yours to cause whispers in society.

"Are you alright, Prinzessin?" He asks, concern written over his features, the heat of his hand sizzling over your cool skin. You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Your voice trapped as his gaze holds yours captive.

You simply nod, and right yourself again, pulling your gaze away from his, and softly moving away, maintaining a space worthy of all those etiquette books you grew up reading.

You definitely weren't thinking about how his touch sent a lick of heat to your lower belly, or how you wondered how his lips would feel against yours... Or why you suddenly were a shy thing, unable to talk.

You walk into the gardens, along the rose bushes, and floral centerpieces you were so proud of, the scent of flowers permeated the air.

"We have beautiful flowers in my homeland." You hear him say.

"Edelweiss is what we are known for the most. Had i known there was a garden like this here, i may have brought some for you." His gruff voice almost the opposite of the rumours you had heard.

"Maybe i shall visit one day." You reply, plucking a few straggly flowers from the path.

"You would be welcome, When your Mutter had written to me, inviting me here to court you... I had-" You cut him off.

"My mother? What has she-" realisation struck.

"Shes matchmaking, isn't she." You realise, understanding blossoming through you.

König has the grace to blush, and avert his gaze.

"When i had heard of the Prinzessin who loved flowers and was rumoured to be extremely intelligent, and beautiful, i had to see for myself. no?" He continued, his eyes flashing dark.

"And the rumours were true, my little wildflower. You are radiant."

Your breath catches in your throat, unable to look away, you stand there, holding the flowers to your body.

"W-well, thank you, your majesty. But i must say-"

"Permit me to kiss you, Prinzessin." He asks, not letting you finish the sentence.

"If its our duty to marry, then we must see if we are compatible in other ways. no?" He takes a step further to you, hidden by the garden wall, your gaze flicks to your maid, who quickly turns around, but not before you can see a smile on her face.

You nod, cheeks aflame.

"Liebling, i need words, please."

"Y-yes, kiss me, please." You whisper, your voice low enough for only him to hear."

He cups your face, cradling your cheeks in his rough hands, his eyes searching your soul as he lowers his lips to yours, brushing over them softly.

You make a small whimper in the back of your throat, body singing with passion, as he explores your lips, opening you up to him like a flower on a sunny day.

Steadying your hands on his hips, you wait until he pulls away slowly.

Regaining your senses, you open your eyes, your cheeks pink, and your eyes wild with lust.

You feel his hands enclose around yours.

"Very compatible indeed."

a/n. i liked that this one was a little bit longer than a drabble. i didn't want to follow too similarly to Daisy But i wanted a little cutesy/ soft vibe. I hope you like it! and a mega thank you to you beauts liking an commenting, it makes my day!

@xoxunhinged @misshugs @soraya-daydreams @shadowdark00 @rynbeerose @enjisbf @frudoo @muneca-lemon-steppa @yesornowaitidontknow @thevoiceinyourheadx

[ne-videl]

𝓶𝓲𝓭𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓮𝓻 𝓷𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽'𝓼 𝓭𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓶

♡

yandere Rezef Hill x immortal fem reader

quirks of eternal life and the obsessed prince.

yandere, sfw, mentions of violence, kidnapping & imprisonment, angst??, you are immortal and reaaly bored, poor english, possibly wild image of high society bc real history suck

word count: ~3.5k

a/n: hii!!

exams be killing me

glad its over until the next year but I still have a shit ton of books to read at summer bc I'm in literature class (Tolstoy I hope ur spinning in your grave I don't want to read 3rd and 4th tome of war and peace but I have to)

anyway for this fic I re-read first chapters and?? Rezef is such a dick in the beginning?? and I forgot abt it??

also when I think about someone immortal this type of person just comes to mind (I mean ofc u don't give a damn about some angry man, you literally have been through everything) and don't worry about Cayena she's chilling in a nice place

indeed, lady [name], you are shining brighter than usual today. you've only recently returned to the capital, haven't you?" – at that warm evening, a pretty young girl was chirping in your ear, sitting with you on a luxurious sofa in the ballroom.

you listened with half an ear to a mixture of flattery and sincere admiration, looking into nowhere from under your eyelashes.

the ball was playing its climax, and the guests were harmoniously spinning in a german waltz. others, more noble and older, entertained themselves with idle conversations.

you too, thanks to your position, were little constrained by the limits of secular norms, and did not bother dancing. tonight you wanted anything other than to gallop around the stuffy hall. your eyes, devoid of the childish brilliance peculiar to your peers, looked indifferently at the guests.

the ball in honor of the beginning of summer was a great event, even the royal family usually participated in it; such celebrations instilled in their noble participants a sense of reverence for the higher-ranking present and idle anticipation of the upcoming entertainment.

but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't see anything more from the height of your velvet sofa than pretentiously dressed men and women; strangely moving, stiffly dancing and talking vague figures under the sickening light of numerous chandeliers. all this in the stuffy luxury of the hall seemed to you so fake, pretentious and unnatural that you could barely restrain yourself from haughty laughter, or from a bored sigh.

[name], beautiful [name]! daughter of the richest man in the empire, a brilliant socialite, trendsetter and muse of famous poets.

you vaguely remembered what was inside some rubbish that you read about a hundred years ago, you don't know when and you don't know where.

and although in your case, "a hundred years" might not be just a phrase, you couldn't care less. whether this the fifth life or the hundredth – what's the difference? right, there's none – you thought lazily, openly staring at the crown prince exchanging pleasantries with representatives of the capital's bohemians.

like you, who on the last night of spring were dressed up like a Christmas tree, his highness shone with the white brocade of his suit today. eyes with the color of ceylon sapphire peeked out from under his golden bangs, giving everyone present the condescending look of the royalty. little prince – as you laughingly called him to yourself – was handsome to the point that young girls blushed deeply as soon as they saw him, and married ladies sighed dreamily.

at the sight of the handsome prince, some memory cracked in your skull, however, it died as quickly as it appeared. this and a thousand other memories were simply not worth your attention, and, of course, you never scolded yourself for the forgetfulness inherent in your age. you were above it all.

Rezef easily distinguished among the crowd a lady dressed in thick silk with bare shoulders. on your neck, which he did not hesitate to stare at, there was a pair of pearl necklace with a large emerald. when you met his gaze, you smiled falsely and slightly bowed your head.

middle-aged count, whose name he could not remember, looked at the woman in the corner of the hall, and scratched his gray beard with a smile.

"gorgeous, isn't she?" – an old dog next to him grinned vulgarly – "the beauty of the empire, they say."

"what a wonder." – Rezef did not take his strangely enchanted gaze off you, and the words escaped from his lips with a gasp – "it's not a pity to fall in love with such a creature." – he said maliciously, as if he concluded for himself.

the crown prince walked towards you, ignoring the knowing look of the nameless old man beside him.

he walked confidently, with a deceptively friendly smile, and would have been incredibly ridiculous to you if he hadn't been so handsome.

"good night to you, lady [name]." – Rezef smiled warmly, and held out his hand in a snow-white glove to you, – "may I keep you company?"

he kissed your palm, and without waiting for consent, sat down next to you.

you talked about various nonsense; Rezef did not take his shining eyes off you and listened, and you chatted in a dry tone about the opera, exhibitions and the weather in the capital, hardly forcing yourself to remember the topics that the ladies had already retold a hundred times.

but the guests were invited to the cotillion, and you left the little prince as easily as you accepted him into your shining company.

with the last round of the dance, everything that was happening completely mixed up in your head into a bright, stuffy mess, accompanied by the imperial orchestra and the clatter of shoes on the lacquered parquet.

and in the end, caught by the prince's arm, you were only a little confused, but you didn't show it.

"why won't you stay the night at the palace?" – Rezef said, whose broad chest rose and fell rapidly after dancing, just like your own.

you raised your eyebrows, looking at him from under your eyelashes, and fell into thought, accompanied by the prince to one of the front balconies.

normally, you wouldn't mind spending the night with such a handsome man, but today you didn't want carnal pleasures at all. and of course, you could afford to just turn down the prince like that; just because you're not in the mood, just because you don't want to.

"thank you for the offer, your highness, however, I will refrain." – you said.

for a second, when his eye twitched, you saw something unpleasantly bitter in Rezef's soft features, a mixture of disappointment with something else. but you didn't care to the depths of your callous heart; today you're not in the mood, today you're not having any fun at all.

and what was the point of that endless journey that you called life if you weren't having fun?

Rezef fell silent, maintaining his sugary smile and standing next to you, and you leaned on the marble railing, looking up at the sky.

the pale disk of the moon is floating high on the horizon. there was music coming from the ballroom, the rustle of dresses and the clatter of shoes, irritating your ears; the little prince had been gathering his thoughts for a couple of minutes to speak; and you rested your chin on your silk-gloved hand.

"tell me, lady [name]." – your bored gaze returned to the Crown Prince, – "this night, the moon and the stars, and me, doesn't that remind you of anything?"

you raised your eyebrow. even if you tried, you wouldn't be able to remember; over the years, memories inevitably dimmed and got lost.

Rezef looked at you expectantly, with almost childish anticipation. a sick gleam flashed in his eyes.

the longer your silence dragged on, the more you disliked his face, his eyes; the childish interest in his handsome features contrasted unpleasantly with the look of a madman. as if you won't say what he wants to hear now, the earth itself will crack and split in half.

"I'm afraid not, your highness. nothing at all." – you said, lightly shaking your shoulders.

the little prince didn't say anything else. his lips trembled, and he stared into the distance, clearly terribly disappointed.

the last night of spring burned out in your cold eyes, and you sighed indifferently.

♡

Rezef remembered his childhood well. in a world where everyone hated him, for some reason, there were no pretty princesses or kind older sisters. nobody. at all.

there was only a lady dressed in silk and the moon.

you came to him in dreams; whether out of boredom or out of simple human pity, he didn't know. you came because you could and wanted to; because you said you loved doing what you wanted.

it was just the two of you in this dream world. you told him all the life you could remember; and you had a long one, longer than the biggest cat's tail.

the boy lay on your lap and listened, and sometimes cried.

in this world its eat or be eaten, but you definitely won't eat him.

"they all say that I have no place in this world. that I'd better disappear." – little prince was clutching the silk of your dress tightly in his hands and squinting. – "I hate them."

"all of them?" – you answered with a relaxed, lazy smile, running your hand through the boy's golden hair.

"you and I have a lot in common. that's the way life is, child. when you grow up, you definitely start hating someone." – you were grinning. – "and you cry and feel sad a lot."

"when I become emperor, I will definitely make you the happiest in the whole world! so that you will never cry again." – the boy squeezed your hands tightly in his palms and smiled radiantly. he hesitated slightly, and looked at you from under his golden eyelashes. "but you didn't tell me your name."

"[name]." – you breathed out laughingly.

"aren't you a fairy by any chance?" – little prince tilted his head to the side, looking at you with a radiant gaze of his blue eyes.

"perhaps." – you giggled.

prince laughed loudly. a fake moon was hanging over you two, and fake stars were shining; everything in the dream world is fake – you told him.

but he liked these strange dreams. and wanted them to become real; to have a real moon, real stars, and only him and you.

♡

every time already grown-up Rezef met the woman from his dreams, he felt his heart beating faster.

human heart, such a fragile and pathetic little thing. how many of these hearts have you got your hands on?

he would gladly have torn out each one with his own hands.

the love for you, which has passed through the years, was like bitter liquor sliding down his throat. after it, the stomach turns out, but it intoxicates so much that he can't hold himself from taking another sip.

there is no light in him to give you. all he has is the suffocating darkness of his mind, cultivated by the mores of the palace, the thirst for power and cruelty. but just as no one else besides yourself mattered to you, Rezef didn't give a damn about the nature of his feelings.

poor, pathetic little prince. no one told him that this is not the way he should love someone. like a child who has not been taught to walk, and now it's crawling.

he's still holding back, but if necessary, Rezef will gladly drag you with him into the depths of hell.

but it hurts so much. every time he sees you laughing with someone else, smiling at someone else, he wants to cry.

it should be me! – his heart screams – it should be me! – his wounded soul cries while the prince stands over the corpse of one of your suitors, whom Rezef himself turned into a bloody mess. you should have held his hand. should have been smiling at him.

when someone's neck crunched under his hands again, he thought about you. would you praise him if Rezef brought you this man's head? for your smile, he would give his own heart, still fresh, in warm blood, right out of the gaping hole in his chest.

if you knew, you'd laugh.

because you are eternal, and he is just a human being. Inevitably, there will come a day when you will live, but Rezef will not. one day he will die, will end, and you will laugh coldly and continue your endless journey.

no matter what he does, no matter how hard he tries, you will always have an escape route. you can leave him.

unfair.

Rezef was even a little mad at you for that. he loved you so much; if you had only fluttered your eyelashes once and smiled – even falsely – he would have laid the whole world at your feet!

but you're breaking him. you don't care. you're only interested as long as you're having fun.

oh, how he despised that feeling, and despised you. how much he wanted to kill all the butterflies in his stomach, tear out every shiny wing; wanted to never see your mocking smile and indifferent eyes again, one fleeting glance of which easily made Rezef forget about al struggles for the throne.

he loved you as he had never loved anyone before; and hated because he didn't want to love, because he knew that you won't ever reciprocate.

♡

he and you could't be called friends, however, in the capital's high society, almost all of its representatives were friends and enemies at the same time. in any case, it was not shameful for the crown prince to visit the daughter of the richest man in the empire for dinner.

tall pine trees lined up in orderly rows along the hectares of the estate's garden, shining with luxury no worse than the imperial palace. they bowed their gloomy heads and silently greeted the carriage that evening under the hot july sun that had not yet set.

after dinner was served and eaten, you ordered one of your maids to serve tea in the garden.

"undoubtedly, what happened to the count's daughter is a disgrace to the whole family, however, I cannot help but sympathize with her." – you talked a lot again and at the same time didn't actually say anything.

the only good thing about such conversations about nothing was the opportunity to listen to your measured, eternally bored voice, and just look at you like at a painting in a museum.

the upper world was completely fake and unnatural, and you gladly accepted this fake as a living embodiment of it. and Rezef was willing to play along, because he was the prince, because it was necessary to. and so your conversation drifted from topic to topic, from one rumor to another. the warm wind made him close his sapphire eyes.

"I've seen you in my dreams, marchioness. when I was little." – the crown prince lazily tilted his head to the side, – "I know you, yet you don't remember me. isn't that unfair?" – he said with mock, with sarcastic sadness.

"is it?" – you took a sip of flower tea from a porcelain cup – "well, life is full of injustices, your highness."

a small cabbage butterfly landed right on your finger, moving its thin paws under the cold gaze of your eyes.

"lady, do you like butterflies?" – the prince smiled warmly – "there are a lot of them in your garden."

"only poisonous ones, perhaps." – you replied, and with a smile reflecting his own, squeezed the butterfly in your hand. – "they bring death, yet die themselves if I squeeze my hand just like that. how curious."

"and what about you?" – Rezef, as if enchanted, watched the transparent wings fall on the countertop – "can't you die?"

"I can't be killed in a way that matters." – you answered with a grin, as if you were repeating these words for the thousandth time.

prince pursed his lips in a forced smile. in the end, nothing has changed; he is still just a man at the walls of the eternal city. you won't listen, won't understand, and won't love.

because eternity is beautiful by itself, eternity does not need anyone else.

Rezef likes to think he's doing the right thing.

It's your fault. you could not smile at him so beautifully, not illuminate his darkness with your cold light, not make him feel this.

he didn't want to expose the ugliness of his soul, didn't want to go that far. it's all because of you. you don't even know what an insane cocktail of love and hatred you're making him feel.

and you also don't know that your tea is poisoned.

♡

"do you like your new quarters?" – Rezef almost purred, – "I was trying to guess your preferences, but if something doesn't suit you, be sure to tell me."

huh?

"you won't feel a need for anything," – little prince smiled radiantly, – "prepare to enjoy family life. just have fun and obey me, and I will make you the happiest in the whole world."

what?

Rezef was sitting, busily folding his beautiful hands, and enjoying for the first time the confused, trembling look in your eyes.

a giant bedroom, a four-poster bed, silk sheets on which you were sitting, a translucent nightgown that barely hides anything, and a scarlet ribbon around your neck.

while you were looking around uncomprehendingly, the prince sat down on the bed next to you and smiled sickly.

you saw that abomination again in the bright blue; the look of a pure madman, love which became an illness, mixed with almost animal hatred. a ribbon around your neck.

did he just put you on a leash, like you were some lap dog? that pup, who cried on your lap? you, a being older than his entire palace? you, for whom biting off someone's head is like having breakfast?

you haven't been humiliated like this in the last half-millennium.

"child." – you said slowly and quietly, and in your dry voice there was no trace of the cheeky, fake politeness peculiar to this aristocratic disguise of yours – "I'll pull your guts out through your mouth." – your lips trembled in sheer rage.

Rezef stroked your head and sighed.

"you came into my life so easily. it didn't mean anything to you, did it?" – the corner of his eye twitched, and he laughed bitterly, – "don't think I'll let you go now. never."

hit landed right on the bridge of his nose. you turned out to be much stronger than he expected, and your face was distorted with rage like he had never seen before. Rezef felt his nose bleed.

was the devil himself looking at him through your eyes now? – he thought with a strange calmness.

you hit a couple more times, and, shaking the blood off your knuckles, tore the ribbon from your neck.

how dare he? all of them are just actors in your endless play. if you're not having fun, then none of this makes sense. if you're not having fun, then what are you living for?

you were breathing fast, and were silent. it was as if for eternity you two just looked at each other; you – with fury, he – with calmness, even affably. you were sick of that expression.

but that rage of yours quickly subsided. it wasn't that you forgave him, it was just that after a couple of days you got bored with being violent.

and a year later, you stopped paying attention to the seemingly completely insane circumstances of your new life at all. you didn't mind his sole yet imaginary control over you, just because he didn't mean that much to you.

even now, nothing has changed at all.

and with the tendons cut at your ankles, looking at him with the same bored eyes, you were still disgustingly beautiful to him in the moonlight on the last night of spring.

"tomorrow I will become emperor." – instead of greeting you, Rezef said, entering the room. his face did not express joy, rather, bewilderment, as if he himself for some reason was not completely happy with it.

"yeah." – you said, without looking up from the book, – "congratulations."

now it was difficult for you to move around by yourself, so Rezef usually carried you in his arms.

he sat down on the bed and put his head on your lap and frowned.

"tell me, [name]," – he looked up at you, and when he met your impassive face, he forced a smile, – "why do I feel like I'll never see you again?"

"because you won't. I'm bored." – you shrugged and continued, – "you know, I could hate you." – you spoke calmly and dryly – "but you're not worth it. because in the end, I go on living; I always go on, and you, child, will fall into the very depths of hell."

you stroked his golden hair and smiled calmly. Rezef hid his face on your hips.

"I don't regret anything," – little prince suddenly said softly and laughed.

the last night of spring burned out in your eyes as you disappeared.

brotha euugh

one day I'll go to therapy and stop being funny but not today

I finished playing slow damage and it's the best novel in my life (that shit destroyed me)

also good ends are for weak

I mean I write for yanderes ofc there's not gonna be anything good

it's either normal or "we're fucked" here

also I'm physically intolerable to good endings and will cry if I'd ever had to write one (I love sufferings)

[gacmediadaily]

Filming starts on Monday!

from Danica's IG

[thedeathlysallows]

Santa Baby

Pairing: Loki x F!reader

Summary: Think of all the fun I've missed/ Think of all the fellas that I haven't kissed/ I really do believe in you/ Let's see if you believe in me.

Warnings: Smut. Degradation, dirty talk, loss of virginity (reader's), dom!Loki, oral sex (f!receiving), breeding kink, unprotected sex, ever so slight Jotun!Loki. Loki hasn't had his redemption arc yet

Okay, so, I really have no excuses for this one. It's borderline crackfic but I did my best lol

"Nicholas!"

"Odin!"

You stand shoulder to shoulder with your brother as you watch your father embrace the Allfather. For as long as you can remember, this has been your family's Christmas tradition. After your father finishes delivering gifts all across the nine realms on Christmas Eve, Christmas Day is spent on Asgard with the royal family. You aren't sure why it's a tradition- the elves say it's because Odin was the one to gift your father his powers, to create Santa Claus as the worlds know him- but you've learned over the years it's best not to argue about it.

(There was one year you wanted to spend Christmas at home in the North Pole like a normal family... and your mom fainted from the shock. The elves wouldn't talk to you for a month (which wasn't all that disappointing if you were to be honest). So you considered that lesson learned and never brought it up ever again.)

You watch as your mother greets Frigga next, the two of them looking like the epitome of the Mother archetype. Frigga with her regal air and your mother with her kind smile. You can't imagine ever having to step into their roles and you feel relieved you'll never have to. Your brother is set to be the next Santa and his wife will be Mrs. Claus. Odin's throne will go to Thor and his wife we'll be Queen of Asgard.

All you have to be is yourself.

Free to make your own rules.

To forge your own path.

To-

"Hello, little one." Loki smiles at you fondly and steps towards you. His hands are bound in front of him and the chains draped over his body rattle with each movement.

You tilt your head, observing him closely. "Loki. I knew you were on my dad's Naughty list for the whole New York thing, so I guess it makes sense you ended up on Odin's list too."

His smile morphs into a nasty sneer as he bares his teeth at you. A guard yanks on the chain around his neck, pulling him an appropriate distance from you.

"Must we do this today," Frigga whispers to her husband. "It's the last day of Yule. Let Loki have an hour of freedom."

"And what will that hour cost us," Odin counters.

Your father raises his hand. "If I may? The kids have been working on their magic and sugar plum over here has a real talent for it. I'm sure she could keep Loki in line for an hour."

Loki's eyes burn a hole into the side of your skull as he says, "Yes. The Santa baby can watch me."

"For an hour," you add, turning to your dad. You point a finger at the jolly old man. "And only an hour."

Odin strokes his beard thoughtfully, considering every possible outcome of letting Loki free for a bit. Eventually, he bangs his staff against the shimmering golden floor and Loki's chains fall away. Loki, for his part, makes an effort not to appear too eager. He rubs his wrists and rolls his neck before squaring his shoulders and turning to you.

"I'm at your mercy for the next hour, sugar plum."

And the way he says it so seductively has you reaching the realization that maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.

You fidget uncomfortably, balling the ends of your long sleeves in your hands. Loki watches your twitchy movements silently. That's how he's always watched you. Ever since that first meeting when you were nothing more than a child coming to terms with her father being the Santa Claus. He's always watched you silently, thoughtfully, like he's waiting for you to decide who you'll be... and maybe, just maybe, if there will be a place for him beside you when you do decide who to be.

"I'm already regretting this," you say out loud to no one really.

No one is paying attention anymore anyway.

No one except Loki who places a hand at the small of your back and gestures in front of you with the other. "Come, we both know you're foaming at the mouth to get to the garden."

You can't help the eyeroll his words induce. "How eloquent."

"Thank you."

"I wasn't complimenting you."

Loki purses his lips, fighting back a grin. "No, you would never do that, would you?"

"Just shut up and follow me."

He pretends to zip his mouth shut and throw away the key, earning an aggravated groan from you.

If you were to be honest, you don't find Loki's presence all that objectionable. Sure, his ego is out of hand, he tried to take over your home planet, he can be a real pain in the ass, sassy, confrontational, a know it all... wait, what was your point again? Oh, right! Loki has many, many, many faults, but he's always been kind to you. Deep down you know his affection for you doesn't truly account for the monstrosities he's committed, but it does make him ten percent less Naughty in your eyes.

"When will you tell Jolly Old Saint Nicholas that I've been the one helping you with your magic, sugar plum."

Okay. Five percent less Naughty.

"Never," you say without looking at him. Instead you fix your eyes on the garden up ahead.

He clicks his tongue. "How absolutely Naughty of you. I approve."

Two percent.

"I don't need your approval. And stop calling me sugar plum!"

Loki stops walking abruptly, forcing you to turn around and meet him face to face. Or face to chest rather. He's taller than you by several inches and his broad figure almost blocks out the steadily rising sun. Hues of pink, orange, and purple burst from behind him in pastel streaks of color. The wind is soft and gentle as it wraps around the two of you, pressing your bodies ever closer. If you could paint you think you would paint him just as he is now, all soft edges and gentle eyes.

He shakes his head. "You don't need it, but you want it. You crave it, don't you, my darling?"

You think you prefer him calling you sugar plum. That feels far less intimate than hearing the words my darling come out of his mouth.

"I don't want anything from you," you say full of false bravado.

"Oh?" Loki pulls you in to his body and tilts your chin up with his thumb and forefinger. "Not even my cock? I think if I were to bend you over this balcony and fuck that tight little cunt of yours, you'd thank me by the end of it. Wouldn't you, sugar plum?"

You swallow the lump in your throat and will away the rising heat in the pit of your stomach. "I said stop calling me that, Loki."

"Then what would you prefer, hmm?" His lips are centimeters from yours, teasing you by brushing against you ever so lightly as he speaks. "You positively lit up when I called you my darling. How does my queen sound? Better yet, how about my whore?"

"Stop."

"Did you make it to the Nice list this year? No sneaking around and kissing boys behind my back?"

You grit your teeth, embarrassment washing over you with the realization that you actually enjoy having him talk to you like this. "Stop. I know what you're trying to do."

"And what would that be?"

"You want me to give up on you like everyone else. There's a past between us whether we like it or not and you want me to just... forget it. Let it go. Everyone else already believes you're a monster and you can't stand that there's one person in the world who still believes you can be good."

Silence stretches out between the two of you like a snake sunbathing on a rock. It's an almost tangible sensation. All you can hear is the air rushing through your lungs as Loki's chest rises and falls at an alarming rate.

"Is this the part where we hug and I thank you for always believing in me? Because... no, I don't think I'll do that," Loki finally says after a few painful seconds.

You huff in frustration, spinning on your heel to go back inside and forget the whole deal. You'll lock yourself in a guest room with some delicious Asgardian mead and that'll be that. This whole sexual tension thing with a man you shouldn't want in the first place will disappear along with the alcohol.

Before you can take a step forward and put you're new Christmas Day plan into motion, Loki grabs you by the arm and pulls you back. His chest presses into your back, a warm and solid wall of muscle.

"Where do you think you're running off to, sugar plum?" He bends down and whispers the words in your ear, his lips ghosting over your skin and leaving goosebumps all over your body.

"Your hour's up."

"I've still got forty five minutes."

"Yeah, well... I'm finished with this."

Loki slips an arm around your waist, grinding his hardened length into your ass. "You're through when I say you're through, and right now I want you down on your knees worshipping."

"But... we're outside..."

The protest dies on your lips as green sparks emanate from Loki's fingertips, circling the two of you before sinking back into his palm.

"There," he says simply. "Problem solved. Now if anyone were to walk by they would simply see us admiring the flowers. Now, on your knees."

You let him push you down on your knees, his long fingers curling in your hair. Through the tight leather of his trousers you can make out the imprint of his cock. You won't be able to take all of him in your mouth. There's just no way. You're willing to try though, you think to yourself as you look up into the familiar green-blue of his eyes.

He helps you undo his pants, picking up the slack when your nervous fingers tremble while untying the laces. He's eerily patient and allows you to take your time. Build your courage as it were. You want this. You know you do. You're just... nervous.

The realization strikes Loki suddenly. "You're a virgin?"

The accusation- however true- doesn't sit right in your chest. "Do you want me to do this or not?"

Loki's eyes shine bright with absolute glee. "You are!"

"Loki-"

The world swirls and warps around you, the oxygen leaving your lungs in a sudden woosh. You suddenly find yourself in your usual guest chambers. Still on your knees. Still out of breath.

"Much better!" Loki sighs happily before making himself comfortable on the large bed. "Actually, one more thing."

A fire roars to life in the hearth and the bright gold decorations littering the room turn a deep shade of emerald.

"Lest you forget who you're with," he explains simply.

"I couldn't if I tried." You look at Loki out of the corner of your eye as he lounges on the bed. His pants are undone, exposing the deep V of his pelvic muscles and a light dusting of hair. He looks at you so intently you feel like you might explode. "What?"

Loki motions for you to come closer. "I want you to come on my face, sugar plum."

You swear your body just gives out as soon as you hear the words. "W-what?"

He growls and sits straight up. "You are going to walk that pretty little arse over here, and then your are going to straddle my face, so I can lick your cunt until you come."

It takes everything in you to do exactly as he says. You aren't completely inexperienced and you aren't a complete idiot either. You know what the fire in your belly and the slickness between your thighs means. You want Loki, wanted him for years. Never in your wildest dreams did you think he actually wanted you too.

It's a Christmas miracle in your opinion.

When you make it to the edge of the bed Loki tuts at you, toying with the hem of your dress. "I meant to comment earlier, but this is the most horrid thing I've ever seen."

Your brow furrows. "Hey! Sprinkle made this for me!"

"Sprinkle." The way Loki says the elf's name almost sounds like a curse.

"You've met him before. Back a few- oof!"

Loki rips the dress to tatters in the blink of an eye. You want to hit him, curse him, something, but he moves too quickly. Instead you make a mental note to apologize to Sprinkle when you get home, and let Loki manipulate your body so that your kneeling over his face. His breath on your core sends a shiver through your body.

"Loki," you whine, gripping at his hair.

"Good girl," he moans out as you tug on the long, dark strands. "Let's see if you taste as sweet as you look."

His tongue laves at your folds, teasing you. It's strange but nice and exhilarating all at once. Your hips buck involuntarily when he finally slips his tongue inside you and he sighs happily against your skin.

"Fuck, yes," Loki groans.

You whimper pathetically.

"I need inside you. Now," he says against your soaked cunt. "I need you, darling."

All you can do is nod. Your bones feel like jelly, but you want more. You want him. You want him inside you. You want him to come inside you. You want it so badly you can almost imagine a future filled with children who have your hair and his eyes.

When he looks up at you there's a split second where you think he sees that future too.

Loki ends the moment quickly though, telling you to get on your back. He positions his cock at your entrance and you have a momentary lapse in confidence. You don't want him to stop, but he's bigger than you could've guessed, and-

"Relax." Loki presses his mouth to yours, nipping at your bottom lip. "You were made to take this cock."

You nod and angle your hips up so his tip slips inside you. Your unused muscles twitch against the intrusion, making Loki hiss out something in Old Norse. One of his hands wraps around your throat while the other pins your hips against the bed. Using this leverage he pushes his entire length inside you, swallowing your screams with his lips. Loki pumps in and out of you slowly, watching your face for signs of discomfort.

"M-more," you sigh. "Harder... more... please..."

His breath hitches. "Are you sure, my darling?"

"Yes!"

"Very well." Loki's hips snap, shoving himself even deeper inside you.

Your hands fly to grip his biceps. His skin is colder. Colder than you've ever felt it. And there's a slight blue tinge.

"Loki, fuck... oh my god..."

His hand not wrapped around your throat slaps across your cheek. "My king. Say it. Say I'm your king."

You manage a tiny nod. "You're... you're my king..."

Loki's grip tightens and his pace quickens. You can feel his thick cock sliding in and out of you, stretching you around him, forcing his way deep inside you.

"L-Loki..." You let out a short whine. "Come inside me. Please. I need it. Please, please..."

He chuckles darkly. "How pathetic. You're begging like a common whore. Is that what you are, darling? Are you my whore?"

"Y-yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes, my king."

Loki, seemingly satisfied by your answer, lifts your leg over his shoulder and shoves his way deeper inside you. There's a painful burn as you adjust to the new angle and pace, but the look of ecstasy on Loki's face is enough to send you over the edge again. You come on his cock once more, but this time he comes with you, filling you until it leaks out.

You aren't sure when you closed your eyes, but when you open them Loki is looking at you with a strange expression.

"My hour is up," is all he says.

[starrysturnz]

somebody waits for you…

pairing. prince!chris sturniolo x reader

summary. to maintain the secrecy of their relationship, chris and y/n don’t mingle much at the annual christmas ball. but his self control is only so powerful, and when he finds a secluded hallway lined with mistletoe, he can’t help but to give in to temptation.

warnings. angst if you cover your eyes with your hands and peek through the cracks.

word count. 1.3k

author’s note. posting the day after i was meant to… your honor i plead poor time management skills. (i’m currently on a trip, we got to the hotel later than expected LMAO i’m sorry.) but at least it’s only like 2:30am and i didn’t make you wait until the afternoon or smth! hoping this quality content makes up for the lateness. kisses!!

masterlist | taglist | starrysturnz’s christmas countdown

© starrysturnz. all rights reserved. dividers by @cafekitsune.

it was as though chris’s eyes were permanently glued to y/n’s figure across the ballroom, which was unfortunate for the girl currently vying for his attention. she was pretty, he could admit that, and truthfully she seemed genuinely sweet. goodness knows his brothers would scold him for ignoring her the way he was, but he couldn’t help it… he was a taken man.

not that anybody knew that. his parents would probably drop dead on their thrones if they found out one of their sons was dating a commoner. even if it was y/n, who’d grown up practically joint at his hip— her mother was the queen’s favorite florist, and her father the royal shoemaker (for many months after he’d stopped growing, chris continued to request new boots because his old ones “no longer fit”). they adored her, but she was expected to know her place, and chris his.

so they shared lingering glances across the busy banquet hall. sometimes, she sent a wink his way, maybe a flutter of her lashes. he’d respond with a quirk of his lips, and a look that she knew meant “later.” but later felt like forever away. he wanted to hold her now, in that dress that hugged her in all the right places, and kiss her painted lips. he wanted to drown in her perfume, the expensive one that he bought her for her birthday last year. she only wore it on special occasions, even though he repeatedly told her he would just buy her another one when it ran out. she was stubborn.

matt noticed his brother’s distracted stare, apologizing to the duchess on his arm as he pulled him away from her.

“hey,” he said, clapping his brother on the shoulder when they reached a secluded corner, “go take a walk, man.”

“what are you talkin‘ about, dude?”

the older prince sighed, rubbing his eye as he hesitated a bit (a habit his mother has given up on getting him to stop). “i know you want her… but you gotta be realistic. starin‘ at her like a stray puppy isn’t gonna help, so just go clear your head or somethin‘ and go back to talkin‘ to the duchess. and act like she’s actually there this time, okay?”

chris didn’t even have the chance to process matt’s words before he was walking back to his date. matt knew he liked y/n? maybe he’d been less slick than he thought. at any rate, he was right— chris could use a break from this ball. he definitely didn’t want to go back to talking to the duchess.

⁺⁎˚

it wasn’t long before the prince found himself in a long hallway, many doors down from any prying eyes. what was meant to be a relaxing moment of peace and quiet backfired due to his usual overthinking. he paced up and down the hall as his thoughts barreled through his mind at warp speed.

god! all he wanted was y/n. publicly. shamelessly. he wanted everyone to see her for who she was, not for her blood status. so what if she wasn’t royal? does that make a person unworthy of love? would he really have to do more of this— attending these ridiculous parties, meeting eligible noblewomen who bore him halfway into his grave, pretending to listen as they ramble on about their latest trip into the countryside? start dating one? propose? commit to a lifetime in an unhappy marriage, longing for somebody else?

lacing his fingers behind his neck, he leaned back into his palms. deep inhale through the nose. exhale through the mouth. repeat. repeat. repeat.

when chris opened his eyes again, his gaze fell upon a small plant hung at the base of the high sconce in front of him. white berries, round green leaves… mistletoe? he glanced down the hallway and noticed one strung upon each light fixture, smiling to himself at the mental image of their head maid, tiny woman that she was, securing them in place on her toetips.

and then the idea struck him.

⁺⁎˚

“chris!” y/n laughed, a warmth blooming in his chest at the sound, “where are we going?”

his fingers squeezed hers tighter as he shot her a mischievous grin over his shoulder, not letting up on his pace. anyone passing by would think they were in some kind of emergency, the way he was pulling her through the castle.

“jus‘ trust me, kid,” he assured her. “you’re gonna like it.”

y/n knew better than to pry. but when they arrived at their destination, it’s safe to say she was a bit confused. she turned to look at him quizzically, leaning back against the wall on her palms.

“it’s… a hallway.”

chris smiled, a playful glint in his eye. he took a step forward. “mhm.”

“don’t get me wrong, it’s a lovely hallway. i like the wallpaper.”

“that’s nice, baby,” he mused as he stalked closer to her, his hands landing on her hips, sliding up to her waist and squeezing the flesh there through the fabric of her dress. she couldn’t help but notice his gaze fixated on her lips.

“it’s just that i was about to grab a slice of the yule log, and—”

the girl’s sentence stopped short in a gasp as chris pushed her suddenly flush against the wall. he inched closer and closer to her face, until their lips were just barely brushing, teasing her. too anxious to move, she felt her eyes slip shut, anticipating the moment he’d bridge the gap between them.

but it never came. instead, she was startled to feel his thumb and forefinger trap her jaw gently in their grasp, ever so carefully tilting her head up at the dim light above them.

“open your eyes f’me, y/n,” chris whispered lowly in her ear. “what d’you see?”

it only took a second to adjust to the light before she realized. “chris…,” her palms found purchase on the prince’s chest, his heartbeat faint and his breathing even beneath his suit jacket. she was comforted by the feeling. “someone might see.”

a flicker of something unrecognizable flashed across his features before he spoke again, “i don’t care. please, let me.”

“you could get in so much trouble. you’re already pushing your luck, inviting a peasant to a ball. what would your parents think?”

chris’s brow furrowed as he traced his fingertips along her exposed collarbone. “you’re not a peasant. everyone gets a plus one, there’s no rule about who you can or can’t invite. my parents know you, and they love you. they know you’re my best friend, ’s not suspicious, i promise.”

y/n wasn’t quite convinced. they’d been so careful… was it really worth the risk?

“no one ever comes down here,” he tried again. “please. let me kiss you. let me kiss you, baby.”

her shy smile was all the confirmation he needed before his lips were on hers, soft but hungry, as though he physically couldn’t hold back any longer. his left arm wrapped around her waist as his right snaked up to hold the back of her head, flexing his muscles to pull her in as close as possible.

“angel,” he sighed against her, out of breath but going in for more, “god, you’re an angel.”

a stifled while fell from her lips involuntarily, and she had to pull away before things escalated. chris wouldn’t let her get far, though, resting his forehead against hers as they caught their breath together.

“thank you,” he whispered, savoring the moment he knew had to end soon. “dunno what i would’ve done if i had to wait any longer. i might’ve kidnapped you.”

she giggled, a melody to chris’s ears. “you kinda did, your highness.”

chris pinched her arm at the title, earning a small yelp in return.

“oh, by the way… i think matt might be onto us.”

taglist: @stylessuperwhore

[aluminumneedles]

The Great Knitted Christmas Gifts Bonanza of 2024

(Working title)

Besties and beloved mutuals, welcome to the chaos.

This will be wacky. Zany. Incredibly boring at times and possibly excessively dramatic for no reason at all except my (and hopefully your) amusement. We will laugh! I will cry! We will perhaps commiserate over things and also I will aggravate my carpal tunnel! I will ask for advice on things I don't know how to do! I will make polls because audience participation is enrichment for me! Good shit good shit let's get started

At the time of writing it is September 18, 2024, also known as 98 days before Christmas Eve, which will heretofore be known as The Deadline™️. I have, at present, four family members for whom I am making gifts. Now you may be thinking "Kay, that's only four people. That does not warrant a big post." But I'm making one anyway so here we goooo

PERSON #1

Mom. I already decided on my mom's gift, she's getting a shawl. It's my first shawl and I'm kinda geeked about it. It's the Cosmos Textured Knit Wrap from Mama in a Stitch

(photo taken from Mama in a Stitch's website I hope that's ok??)

Yarn is Red Heart worsted weight acrylic in Royal. Now here's the situation: I haven't made a wearable with acrylic yarn in awhile and I wasn't a huge fan of how it felt last time. But I know people do it literally every day, so: when the time comes I will be soliciting advice on how to make it soft and comfy. Plus I hate blocking and I'm gonna have to block this so yay growth!!

PERSON #2

My sister. Adorable, likes a pastel, super long hair, so I was thinking...scrunchies? And then I was thinking scrunchies are not necessarily on the level of gift I was aiming for so I thought...scrunchies + matching leg warmers (babydoll goes to the gym sometimes so i thought it would be cute)? And then. AND THEN. Was scrolling Pinterest instead of sleeping and I found these!!!

Now there are pros and cons

Pros:

I have been wanting to knit lace

I have been wanting to knit socks

Cons:

I have no experience knitting lace or socks

Oh well f*ck it we ball! Will still try to match the scrunchies to the socks. Send thoughts/prayers/advice/yarn recs, because idk what I am doingggg

PERSON #3

My brother. So, at the first of the year I started knitting a blanket kind of just because--I really liked the pattern and I wanted the feeling of starting something new in the new year. In April I decided it would be a gift for my boyfriend at the time, in May it became too hot to knit with wool, and in July the relationship ended. My brother has expressed interest in a blanket from the same pattern and has offered to take this one off my hands. I'm about 3/4 of the way done. Should be an easy gift, right? Maybe I'll throw in a matching pillow?

However, I once promised to make him this sweater:

(image snagged from the MomentsinTwine Etsy shop)

I bought the pattern, I bought the yarn, and I never delivered. (I started it and frogged it twice because my gauge was so so off.)

So uhhh PLEASE do the poll I need help deciding. Yarn would probably be a golden yellow wool blend, because that is the color he wanted 3 years ago and if I ask for an updated color choice he'll know what I'm working on 😭

PERSON #4

My dad.

Y'all.

I have no idea what to do for this man. He is a very classic "I don't want anything" person, and I am a classic "Must. Give. Gift." person. So already, times are tough!! What am I supposed to knit this man???

So I was thinking slippers-- I found a pattern for Woodland Loafers on Ravelry (pattern by Claire Slade) and I thought they were adorable. But then I was thinking why not make a whole, like, cozy care package? So I thought slippers, mug rug + mug cozy, maybe something else? He likes music, he likes to relax and watch his lil shows, he likes M*rvel?? Open to so many suggestions babes.

So...yeah. That's the show. I'll update as I go along, and if you're ever curious about how things are going or want to bully me about not making progress, please nudge me!! Sorry this was so long okay bye

[unknowntoyou2205]

Merry Christmas everyone

Info: Y/n loves Christmas, even as she grows older, and since her marriage to the prince, she holds a ball to celebrate her favourite time of year

Relationship: y/n Bridgerton x prince Fredrich

Y/n smiled as she looked out the window towards the gardens of the royal grounds she now lived in. It was times like this she was in awe of the life she had gained. Marrying a royal was never part of her plans, but love came in the way, and that changed everything. Prince Fredrich and her had quickly fallen for each other, despite the queens efforts to put her sister with her nephew, and their married life was pure bliss.

With their wedding now past, their first Christmas as husband and wife was rolling quicker than y/n expected. Y/n always loved Christmas, as she grew older and joined society, she dreamed of the Christmases where she could host her own parties. Marrying royalty had it’s advantages, and now she got to hold her first ball, one that she hoped would live up to royalty standards.

Fredrich wasn’t one that would be overly enthusiastic about Christmas, in his family they done the banquet dinner and then had their own things to do. But marrying y/n, he found himself finding a new love for the festivities. Seeing his wives eyes light up as the lights shone during the night was a sight to see, and he loved seeing her smile at the simplest thing. Seeing her look through the window as the sun began to set and the strings of lights began to shine, made him smile in delight that he could make his wife happy.

“What’s wrong my love?” Fredrich asked, scaring y/n as he wrapped his arms around her waist. “Nothing dear, just simply admiring the sights.” Y/n spoke, cupping her husbands cheek in her hand as he leaned on her shoulder. “I think you have done a magical job for tonight.” The prince commented to his new princess, and y/n blushed. “I merely done what my mother used to do, go with what you like, and the rest will come to life.”  y/n smiled, moving to kiss his cheek gently. “ Well your mother raised a spectacular woman.” “You should know.” Y/n mused, smiling cheekily before squirming as Fredrich poked her side. “The guests should be arriving shortly, perhaps we shall get ready for our first official ball.” Frerich smiled, not wanting to move away from y/n.

Y/n smiled in content as she moved in Fredrich’s arms so she could hug him properly. Feeling her husband relax in her arms made her sigh in content. Rubbing his back she moved away from him before pecking his lips and moving towards her dressing room

----

The buzz of voices could be heard downstairs as y/n’s maids helped her with the finishing touches. She had opted for a shimmery red gown, a bold choice but with it being festive she decided to go with it, opting for a silver shawl to cover her shoulders. Her hair was down in curls with her wedding clip holding some hair out of her face. Admiring herself in the mirror, she nodded in satisfaction before smoothening down her dress as she turned to the door as a knock was heard. She smiled as the door was opened to see her ever loving husband on the other side. His eyes widened as he caught her appearance.

“Wow y/n, you look extravagant.” Fredrich stated, moving to take y/n’s hands in his. “You always say that, your highness.” Y/n curtsied slightly causing Fredrich to laugh at her antics. “May I?” He offered her his arm to guide her to the party. “You may.” y/n smiled, linking arms with him before they made their way down the hall.

Glancing over the barrister of their home in London as they made their way towards the stairs, y/n looked around to see families gathering and couples gossiping with each other. In the corner stood her family, and y/n could only smile as she seen her siblings looking around, her mother looking proud of the ball that had been made.

“Your royal highnesses, the Prince and Princess of Prusia.” The footman announced at the bottom of the stairs, causing the crowds of people to turn to the stairs. Y/n smiled as she and Fredrich walked down the steps, before stopping at the bottom of the steps. “We thank you all for coming, and hope you enjoy the festivities this Christmas eve.” Y/n smiled, looking around to make everyone feel included. “Please do enjoy tonight, and on behalf of my wife and I, may I wish you a Merry Christmas.” Fredrich finished, nodding his head at the end before the applause began.

As the crowds turned to mingle, y/n accepted the glass of wine that was offered to her before making her away around the room, her husband moving to chat with some of the men. She smiled and greeted those who spoke to her as she walked by, moving directly towards her family. Violet grinned with happiness as she seen her daughter walking towards them, and opened her arms wide.

“Oh y/n dearest, how splendid to see you.” Violet exclaimed, hugging the Princess as she gained the attention of her oldest children. “Well done, sister, this evening seems to be a great success.” Anthony smiled, moving to kiss his sisters cheek gently. “Thank you all for coming.” y/n smiled, accepting the short hug from her new sister Kate. “We wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Kate smiled, rubbing y/n’s shoulder briefly before moving to take her husbands arms once again. “I trust the trip here wasn’t too harsh.” Benedict smiled down at this favourite sister, moving to hug her gently. “It was pleasant.” Y/n nodded, before looking up as an arm was wrapped around her waist. “Hello Bridgerton’s, lovely to see you all again.” Fredrich stated, holding his wife closed as he nodded to her family. “Your highness.” Violet spoke as the family bowed in respect. “I’ve just come to take my lovely wife for a trip around the hall, the dancing is about to begin.” Fredrich smiled as he looked down at y/n as she gazed up at him. “Excuse us.” Y/n nodded to her mother, taking off her shawl and giving it to Benedict before allowing her husband to guide her to the floor.

Couple flocked the floor around y/n and Fredrich as they awaiting the musicians to begin. Y/n had asked for up beat music to be played, and a Christmas tree had been placed in the middle of the dance floor, making the couples form a circle. Y/n’s cheeks were hurting as she grinned widely as they danced around, giggling at each turn they made. Violet watched with a smile as her daughter danced with her husband, and her grin only widened as she seen the couple who had joined beside them.

Y/n allowed Fredrich to twirl her, leaving each other to switch partners. Looking at her new partner to greet him, y/n’s breath caught in her throat, head whipping to the side to see who was dancing with her husband.

“Your highness.” Simon spoke, grinning at the reaction of wifes twin. “Simon, I didn’t think you would be coming.” Y/n grinned, allowing Simon to guide her through the dance. “Daphne wouldn’t hear of missing her sister’s first official ball. Besides, it would be rude to ignore royalties invitation.” Simon spoke, twirling her around before taking her around the floor once again. “But I thought you were spending Christmas with Lady Danbury.” “I believe here is much better, don’t you.” Simon spoke as they stopped and the crowds clapped as the dance finished.

Y/n took that opportunity to rush towards her twin, nearly knocking the Duchess of her feet with impact. Daphne laughed, wrapping her arms around y/n with just as much force, as Simon and Fredrich shook hands in greeting.

“It would have been rude to ignore royalties invite.” Daphne stated, causing y/n to laugh. “I’m glad to have you this Christmas.” Y/n giggled. “Auggie is also delighted to be spending it here, he thinks it’s so much bigger than ours.” Daphne stated, and y/n’s smile widened as she heard mention of her nephew. “Besides we have news.” Simon spoke, placing an arm around Daphne’s waist. “Oh?” Y/n asked, intrigued. “I’m pregnant.” Daphne squealed, and y/n laughed as she hugged Daphne once again. “This is wonderful news, congratulations.” Y/n stated, pulling away to hug Simon. “Congratulations you two.” Fredrich stated, placing an arm around y/n’s waist. “Your highness,, it is time.” A footman spoke, and Fredrich nodded before taking the glass and knife from him and clinging the glass. “May I have everyone’s attention, if everyone would like to gather outside we have one last surprise to conclude the night.” Fredrich stated, causing y/n to smile up at him.

Watching the crowds disperse to outside, y/n accepted her shawl as Benedict and her family walked by, Violet hugging Daphne immediately as they passed. The night was cool as they walked outside, and y/n allowed Fredrich to guide her along the path to the front of the crowds. Hearing the light chatter of confusion, y/n smiled as she seen the flames beginning to light. Gasps entailed as the sky lit up, fireworks coming into view. Y/n smiled as she moved to place a hand on Fredrich’s chest, and he looked down as he wrapped his arms around her as she stood by his side.

“Everything you dreamed of?” Fredrich asked. “And more.” Y/n stated, causing her husband to chuckle. “I’m glad.” Fredrich spoke, causing y/n to look up at him. “I’ll take every Christmas like this if it means I get to spend it with you.” Y/n stated, and Fredrich smiled down at her. “Till death do us part my love.” Fredrich smiled, leaning down to kiss her gently.

[zeplerfer]

USUK Fics of 2023

Instead of the usual Christmas fic recommendations, I've decided to highlight some delightful USUK fics that were written or updated in 2023. Read and enjoy!

Canonverse

caressed by thorns by aiwendor - America's soulmate mark is a rose.

Flutter Notes by DemonicPiano - England receives love notes from a secret admirer.

I Wish That We Could Be Real Too by tangerine_machine - America is an expert on taking drunken England home. Too bad they both suck at confessing their feelings.

In the Trenches by PromiseOfGrayskull - England and America share a fag and discuss love.

Cardverse

Crescit Eundo by Orestiad - Two squabbling royal princes finally find romance as young adults.

The Only One for Me by aiwendor - Prince Alfred is forced to hold a ball to help him find his queen.

Rewind by BritishShinshi - Queen Arthur pays the price for saving his King's life.

Drunk with your Love by CharlotteKensington - The King of Spades confesses his feelings after too much wine.

Fluff

1-800-DIAL-A-HERO by AveryBlair - Super villain!Arthur has to call a foe for help.

Fell Off by amine - Alfred and Arthur are a couple of YouTubers in love.

With Golden Hairs, Our Stolen Hearts by WhyHowdyThereExtras - Arthur is jealous of Alfred's new puppy.

Flirting

The (not-so-charming) Prince Charming by WhitRewritesCanon - Alfred swipes right and starts dating a prince.

and sugar, we're going down swinging by nyoengland - Alfred does a photoshoot with the sexiest member of a British boy band.

Fake Boyfriend

Limited time offer by CharlotteKensington - Alfred rents out his dating services to make some quick cash.

I Know What You Want (From Me) by ixiepixie - Alfred needs a fake boyfriend to deal with his family.

Inspired by a TV series

Wayfaring Strangers by Orestiad - Alfred is humanity's last hope for a cure during the zombie apocalypse and Arthur is the one in charge of keeping him alive. Based on the Last of Us(UK) ;)

The Season by hetaswag - Lord Arthur Kirkland is an eligible bachelor during the social season teaching a handsome American how to be a gentleman. Based on Bridgerton.

Sexy Smut (USUK)

Simple Chemistry by Orestiad - Alfred suffers from some kind of alien Viagra toxin and Arthur is the cure. Star Trek AU.

cast all your spells on me by flybynight - Alfred needs help from a powerful and very sexy sorcerer.

Pinned in Place by gummycola - The Demon King imprisons a sexy incubus for funsies.

Just Desserts by haleydawnisaur - America distracts England from baking with sex.

Punk Smut (UKUS)

A Closer Look by alifeasvivid - Arthur's tattoo earns him an admirer on the Tube (and in bed).

All According to Fantasy by WhyHowdyThereExtras - Punk Arthur picks up his diner waiter.