#big quiche

[chloreen]

No, you're right, there is nothing insanely erotic about stuffing a croissant in somebody's mouth right before they say "I thought I dreamt you." "spits/muffled grumbling"? that does not affect me at all. And how about that look of fated adoration, like you've spent your life thirsty in the heart of the desert and suddenly a water spring blossomed in front of you and you were so mesmerized by it you forgot to drink? Why, I barely noticed it at all.

[cubicpeebles]

papyrus is just smiley bone without skin

[willlmesh]

I MISS MOZZARELLA CHEESE

[quichedborad]

🐹

between this & this other tag i got a sec ago-

i'm just sittin here like

[discordarchitect]

even bigger tiny fellas that i found

[clochanamarc]

but also!!!!!! imagine visiting this woman's house to try and protect her?? telling her the usual stuff of "you won't believe this, but... you happen to have something that a lot of really bad people want to take from you, and they're gonna kill you and everyone you love to get it" and like, this 5'2 woman who still doesn't understand what a "faucet" is and who spent at least five minutes of the conversation cutting crusts off of sandwiches and pinning a B- grade essay on the refrigerator looks steadily more grave and concerned, but not enough to make you think she grasps the situation, and then suddenly the bad guys arrive and you're turning to yell at her to run when you see her floating several feet off the ground with her eyes glowing and her hands effortlessly throwing half the assailants out the windows?? like???

[redflagshipwriter]

Fast Car Chapter Two (of four)

masterpost

Was this guy for real? Jason nearly decided not to get in out of suspicion. Danny was one of the very few loose ends in his crime yesterday. He sort of figured that eventually Batman would find the driver he’d used to get a duffle bag of heads to the police station. He stalled. It had seemed like an acceptable risk, since he hadn’t shown the guy his face. The only information that the police should have been able to get was where he’d left and that he’d used one of his victim’s phones to call for a ride.

And yet Danny was waiting patiently at the curb for the Red Hood to get in. Wasn’t he scared?

He had been all over the news yesterday. Danny had to know.

‘Either he’s dumb as a box or he is one of the chillest people I’ve ever even heard of.’

Morbid curiosity got him into the car. Danny locked the door as soon as the door was shut– but it was clearly routine. He’d done that yesterday, right. Jason waited a moment before he remembered that Danny wasn’t going to pull out until he had his seatbelt on. He let out a laugh and buckled up. It was pretty cute, actually.

Now that he wasn’t so distracted, maybe he could make small talk. Danny pulled them out into the sparse early morning traffic with an expression of determined focus.

Jason cleared his throat. “You moved to Gotham recently?” he started with. Danny didn’t have the local speaking pattern.

Danny nodded. “For school,” he shared easily. “I’m in the sciences program at Gotham U’s south campus.”

…So he wasn’t the world’s biggest dummy. Jason sat there and contemplated how catastrophically chill a body would have to be to chit chat with a man who had killed like 20 people yesterday that he knew of. Why wasn’t Danny scared? What was his damage? 

‘There’s something really wrong with him,’ Jason thought, with no small bit of admiration. Way too late he commented, “That’s cool, man.”

“Thanks.” Danny seemed unbothered by his long delay in conversation. “You know, I had to go to that same police station this morning.”

Jason tensed. Was Danny making some kind of threat?

“They got a whole shitton of muffins and six quiches delivered,” Danny went on. He appeared to feel no sense of danger in the car.

‘Is he… Did he decide to inform on the police to me?’ Jason’s eye twitched. ‘I already knew that I’d have ruined their whole month but… This is kinda satisfying to hear, actually.’ He made a listening sound to prompt Danny to continue. He couldn't lie; he was intrigued.

“Yeah, they looked like total shit.” Danny was so blithe about it that it became surreal and hilarious. “Exhausted. But that’s not my business.” He crinkled up his nose. “Do you know what they tipped me for that?” He didn’t wait for Jason to go on. “Two dollars.” He made a big gesture with his left hand that took it off the steering wheel despite the fact they were mid turn. “That’s ridiculous! I drove halfway across town, waited for the place to open, carried an absurd amount up those stairs, and for two dollars.” He blew a disrespectful raspberry.

“Fuck the police,” Jason said sympathetically. 

Aight. He saw how it was. He mentally tabulated what was in his wallet and allocated a cool thirty dollars to Danny as a tip. For an informant, that was as cheap as bagged rice. Helluva value. He leaned back in the seat and it squeaked under his weight. “How’s Gotham been treating you?”

“Fine, fine,” Danny said absently. He switched lanes a little too abruptly. “Not that different from home, honestly. I don’t know why people are so dramatic about it.” He floored it to squeak through a yellow light.

Jason had the dawning suspicion that Danny had been on his best driving behavior yesterday. But- “Where is home?” It was more morbid curiosity. He kind of regretted that he was nearly to his stop. 

“Amity Park. Illinois.”

Jason winced. “My condolences.”

Danny laughed, high and sort of eerie now that Jason was really listening to it. It sent an  electric zing up his spine. “That’s what they always say.” He seemed to find it really funny. Way funnier than it should have been.

‘...What are the odds that this guy is one of the weird mutants they make in Amity?’ Jason resisted the urge to ask prying questions. Talia had told him to stay the fuck out of that area so that she didn’t have to rescue him from a government black site. It wasn’t his business and he didn’t have the luxury of the time to go and investigate every cute boy with a nice laugh who wanted to be an informant to the Red Hood.

It was with extreme regret that Jason recognized his stop coming up. He let out a sigh. The voice scramblers in his hood turned it to static. He watched the curb approach with disappointment. Danny made to pull in next to a dark shop. Jason glanced into the windows and caught the reflection of the last person he wanted to see. 

“Batmobile.” He sat up straight, alarmed. It was parked out of sight in an alley. Shit. Shit, of course Batman had tracked back the delivery driver that had brought him to the police building. Fuck. How was he going to get away on foot-

Danny jerked back into the street and hit the pedal to the floor. The engine made a scream of machine fear but holy hell did it accelerate. Jason yelled too and grabbed onto the door handle. He aimed wide eyes at Danny, uncomprehending. 

“Fuck Batman!” Danny yelled out his open window, and they were off.

Holy shit. Holy shit!

The batmobile turned on, the normally silent engine’s purr rearing up to a threatening growl as Bruce veered out onto the street in pursuit.

Danny took them down an alley and Jason sharply readjusted his assessment of Danny’s intelligence. “We can’t fit!” He yelled, trying to pull the brake. If they had to stop in the alley it was all over, Batman would block them off.

Danny slapped his hand away and barreled-

Jason blinked as they raced down the impossibly narrow alleyway. He bit his lip. He looked at the car again, recalculating.

No. No, it definitely didn’t fit. He leaned a little away from the window, extremely uncomfortable. He looked at just the right time to see the passenger mirror collide with a dumpster and slide through undeterred.

Ah. Alright, then. He made a “Fair enough” face and turned around to see that the batmobile was lifting up and doing some weird transformers bullshit to fit down the alleyway. They were gaining ground from Batman. “Sorry I tried to touch the controls,” Jason said, a bit late. He glanced down and realized that his hand stung where Danny had slapped it. He pulled it to his chest and rubbed at it, frowning slightly.

“No worries,” Danny said tersely. He hit the breaks and raked the wheel car to make a fucking pinpoint turn without slowing. Just like that, they were out of Batman’s direct line of sight. A solid inch of the inside of the car overlapped with a folding chair outside someone’s home.

Jason eyed Danny judgmentally.

“Wow, that was a close fit,” Danny said, extremely unconvincing. “We are lucky, huh.” He aimed the car at a wall and somehow ramped up. 

‘I think I might be sick.’

Jason decided that the best thing for him to do right now was to close his eyes and say nothing at all. If Danny wanted plausible deniability for his mutant powers, that was whatever. 

‘How did Batman know where I was going?’ He worked through the problem. ‘Did he hack Danny’s account? If not, someone sold me out.’

Just like that, Jason had a list of people to visit for the day. “D’you think you could drop me off at C street instead?” He felt the uncomfortable swooping sensation in his stomach that indicated they’d made some kind of move that should not exist off of a rollercoaster.

“Yeah, of course, sorry about this.” Danny sounded a little breathless. “Ah- don’t look.” He cackled.

…’He’s dodging Batman for his benefit, not mine,’ the penny dropped. Jason laughed out loud and then leaned forward to hold his head in his hands. Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. Danny was the perfect man. They drove for a while in silence before Jason managed to collect himself. “No worries,” he said through tears. “Hey, no sweat if it’s no, but can I get your number?”

Danny paused.

Oh, fuck. Jason cringed. “I'll leave mine and you can call me if you ever need me,” he corrected hastily. “No pressure.” He scribbled it on the back of a loose receipt in Danny's cupholder and left it, mortified but also glad he shot his shot.

[wholoveseggs]

Please please please make another Elijah fic with him being a dad please please please 🙏🙏🙏

I CANNOT GET ENOUGH OF THOSE FICS I ALMOST KNOW THEM BY HEART

Bliss

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Elijah Mikaelson x f!reader} It’s the day after your third child is born… and the best day of Elijah’s immortal life.

♡♡ Oh you want more dad!elijah? Here is a continuation of family man. This one is sappy as hell and so family centric. The ending the Mikaelson's should've had ~ ♡♡

9.2k words {not sorry} - Warnings: tiny bit of smut near the end, soft!dad Elijah, postpartum tenderness, new baby fluff, domestic chaos, vampire immortality angst, Elijah being the best dad alive, Klaus getting emotional, sibling banter, glitter-related incidents, four cats (including one cryptid) and some quiche...

The compound was still cloaked in the grey-blue hush of early morning when Elijah crept into the nursery, where the cradle he had built was set up in the corner. He peered over the edge, smiling at the newest member of his family.

"Hello, little love," he whispered, brushing his finger against her plump cheek.

She stirred a little, one hand escaping the blanket to flex and curl, her tiny fingernails glinting in the soft light. She made a gurgling noise and kicked her little legs, but her eyes remained closed.

Elijah’s smile grew as he watched her sleep peacefully. It had only been one day, and already she had wrapped his heart around her tiny finger, just as her two older siblings had done. His beautiful little girl, born just hours ago. With a full head of dark hair and big brown eyes, just like his.

“Daddy?”

He turned at the sound of his other daughter’s voice. Bex stood in the doorway, her favorite blanket clutched in her hand, her face still creased from her pillow.

"What are you doing up, darling?" Elijah asked softly, walking to the door and scooping her into his arms.

She yawned and curled her head on his shoulder, still drowsy from sleep. "I want to see the baby," she mumbled.

Elijah pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Okay, but we have to be quiet, alright? She's sleeping."

He carried her over to the bassinet, resting his hand gently on the baby’s stomach. "Do you want to say hi?"

She nodded and peeked over the edge, a grin spreading across her face. "She's so cute!" she exclaimed and the baby stirred, legs kicking some more.

“Shhh,” Elijah said. “We’re going to wake her up.”

“Oops.” Bex covered her mouth with both hands, giggling softly. Elijah chuckled too, unable to resist the sound of her laughter.

He shifted Bex slightly in his arms, settling her more securely against his chest. His smile faded, not quite reaching his eyes. 

“Are you sad?” she asked quietly.

“What? Why would I be sad?” He frowned gently at her question.

“You always look sad when you think no one’s watching,” she whispered, her little hands curling into his shirt.

Elijah’s heart stilled. He pressed her closer. “No, sweetheart,” he assured her. “I’m not sad. Not even a little bit.”

“Promise?” she asked, her voice small.

“Promise,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “Now, let’s get back to bed. We have to be very quiet so we don’t wake the baby.”

She nodded, resting her head on his shoulder as he carried her out of the room. He passed Henry’s door on the way, the boy fast asleep, clutching a tiny wooden horse his uncle Klaus had carved for him.

When he arrived at Bex’s room, he gently set her down and tucked the covers around her the way she liked. “Goodnight, sweetheart,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss her forehead.

“Goodnight, Daddy.”

“Sweet dreams.”

He lingered for a moment in the doorway, then crept back into the hall, pausing outside the nursery. He glanced in one last time, his baby daughter safe and sound, her tiny chest rising and falling in steady rhythm.

The world felt hushed. Sacred. And for a moment he felt his throat tighten, his eyes mist with tears. But he quickly swallowed the emotion, the sudden swell of love, the strange mix of joy and sorrow.

Because the moment would not last.

His children would grow, and his youngest daughter would learn to walk and talk, and he would be forced to watch the world turn. Watch them change, watch them slip through his fingers.

He would have to say goodbye.

Elijah shook himself and turned away, heading down to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. He needed a distraction from his dark thoughts, and making eggs was a surefire way to clear his mind.

He pulled open the fridge and frowned, his gaze sweeping the contents. He grabbed a carton of eggs, an assortment of veggies and a large stick of butter before turning his attention to the cupboards, where he found a bag of flour.

As he went about preparing the meal, making the dough for some quiche, his mind drifted back to the previous day. To the birth of his daughter. To how strong and amazing you were, his perfect wife. To the way you held her in your arms, the wonder and awe and joy on your face, the tears that sparkled in your eyes.

He couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face, nor did he want to. His heart swelled, and he began to hum softly under his breath as he chopped the vegetables, the sound of his knife against the cutting board echoing through the empty kitchen.

You were recovering and Elijah knew you needed lots of rest and good food after giving birth. He took it upon himself to be your own personal chef, making sure you were well-fed and taken care of. Klaus would tell him he could just compel the finest chefs from around the world, source the freshest ingredients and have them delivered straight to the compound, but Elijah enjoyed the act of cooking for you.

It made him feel so human. So normal.

Besides, he enjoyed the solitude. The chance to be alone with his thoughts. He didn't get much of that these days. Not with three -now four- children running around, his siblings and their partners also living here, the whole house abuzz with activity.

A noise behind him interrupted his musings. He glanced over his shoulder to see Klaus sauntering into the kitchen, his hair tousled and no shirt. He merely grunted in Elijah's direction as he put on the coffee, the scent of it slowly filling the air.

"Good morning," Elijah greeted, trying not to sound too cheery.

"It's barely six," Klaus muttered, rubbing a hand across his jaw. "What's so good about it?"

Elijah didn't answer. Instead, he prepared the pie dough, sprinkling flour on the counter and rolling out the chilled mass with his rolling pin.

Klaus yawned and stretched, the joints in his spine cracking, watching as Elijah divided the dough into four pie plates, his eyes heavy-lidded.

"Pies, brother? Really?"

Elijah rolled his eyes. "Quiche."

Klaus snorted. "Whatever."

"Does that mean you don't want any?"

Klaus scowled and pushed away from the counter. "Don't be an idiot."

Elijah suppressed a grin, his gaze focused on forming the pies, crimping the edges with perfect precision.

Klaus poured himself a cup of coffee and stood next to Elijah, leaning against the counter and sipping his drink, watching his brother with quiet amusement.

"So... How's the baby?" he finally asked.

"Perfect," Elijah said, not bothering to hide his smile. "Absolutely perfect."

Klaus raised his eyebrows. "And have you picked out a name yet?" His tone was light, but Elijah could detect a hint of impatience in his voice.

"We have," Elijah confirmed, cracking egg after egg into a bowl with one hand.

Klaus waited. When Elijah didn't offer up the information, he huffed. "Well, what is it?"

Elijah ignored him and began to whisk, smiling to himself as Klaus grew more and more agitated.

"Don't make me torture it out of you," Klaus grumbled.

"Niklaus, if you torture it out of me, then there will be no quiche," Elijah replied mildly.

Klaus chuckled, and grabbed the cheese grater and a block of cheese from the fridge, beginning to grate some for the filling.

They worked together in silence for a while, Elijah adding the ingredients to the quiches. Klaus preparing the bacon and sausage, the sizzle and smell of the meat filling the kitchen.

The sound of tiny footsteps padding down the hallway broke the silence. They turned to see Henry carrying two of the cats, one cradled in each arm, their tails swishing.

"Uncle Nik! Dad!" he cried, a grin spreading across his face.

"No cats in the kitchen," Elijah admonished, but his son was already placing the animals on the floor, their paws tapping across the tiles.

"It's only Rue and Sugar," Henry argued, pouting. "They're hungry,"

"You know how your father is about cat hair," Klaus mused, ruffling his nephew's hair. "If he finds even a single strand in his food, we'll all suffer the consequences."

Elijah shot Klaus a glare, and his brother smirked.

"Come, let's go feed the kitties, then we go rouse the others for breakfast," Klaus declared, ushering Henry and the cats out of the kitchen.

Elijah let out a sigh of relief and turned back to the quiches, the oven already preheated and waiting. He slid the trays in, set the timer, and wiped his hands on a towel before leaning back against the counter.

He let the temporary quiet settle in his bones, his gaze drifting to the window where the early light was beginning to stretch across the compound walls. The kind of light that made everything look softer. Gentler. Almost like it belonged to another world entirely.

His thoughts, of course, returned to you.

You were still sleeping, tucked away upstairs, hopefully deep in rest. After everything your body had been through, you deserved nothing less than total peace and he intended to protect that peace with everything he had.

Elijah glanced down at the coffee pot, before he filled up a mug, the contents steaming gently. With a small smile, he picked it up and left the kitchen, the quiet hum of the house following him as he made his way toward the bedroom. Toward you.

He opened the door slowly, careful not to wake you, and slipped inside, closing it behind him. The curtains were drawn, the room dim, but his sharp eyes could see clearly enough. You lay on your side, curled under the covers, Fig and Button stretched out beside you, the soft rumble of their purrs blending into one gentle hum.

He padded quietly over and set the mug on the nightstand before climbing onto the bed, careful not to disturb you or the cats. Although Button opened one sleepy eye, regarded him briefly, then closed it again, unimpressed. Fig didn't move at all, a silent guardian curled against your stomach.

His gaze swept over your features, the curve of your cheek, the softness of your skin, the fullness of your lips. His breath caught in his throat, his heart clenching as it always did when he looked at you.

"You smell like onions," you mumbled, not opening your eyes.

Elijah chuckled softly and leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I made quiche."

"Mmmm."

You rolled onto your back, opening your eyes. You looked sleepy, your hair tousled and wild. You stretched, then let out a soft groan of pain.

Elijah frowned. "How are you feeling?"

You grimaced. "Like I gave birth yesterday."

He winced. "Sorry."

You waved off his concern. "I'm fine." You sat up, and he helped you lean against the pillows. You took a sip from the mug and smiled.

"Thanks."

He settled himself next to you, his arm around your shoulders, careful not to jostle you. He pressed another kiss to your temple, his hand sliding into yours, his thumb stroking your knuckles.

You rested your head on his shoulder, and the two of you sat in silence, taking sips from the same mug and listening to the sounds of the house waking up.

A door slamming. Footsteps pattering down the hall. A shout. More footsteps, this time heavy, running. Four children under ten. Four cats climbing the drapes. Four original vampires all living under one roof. It was a miracle the place wasn’t destroyed every four minutes.

"I should get up," you said, making no effort to move.

"You should stay here and rest," he countered, his arm tightening around your shoulders.

You sighed. "I should probably at least shower and I really have to pee and then I have to feed-"

"Here," he interrupted, pressing the mug back into your hands. "Finish your coffee and take a shower, I'll bring our daughter to you."

"Our daughter." You repeated the words, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

"Yes." He grinned and kissed you, "Our daughter."

"Another baby," you breathed, a smile tugging at your lips. "She's beautiful, isn't she?"

"She is," he agreed. "And so are you."

You laughed. "Liar."

"I am not lying." He reached up and brushed a stray lock of hair from your face. "Just like all the others, she's perfect because she's yours."

You shook your head, but you were still smiling, your eyes shining with tears.

"Don't say that sweepingly romantic shit when I'm all hormonal and vulnerable," you grumbled, taking another sip of your coffee.

"Come," he said, taking your mug and getting to his feet. "Let me help you."

He held out his hand, and you took it, letting him pull you gently to your feet. He wrapped an arm around your waist, steadying you as he guided you into the bathroom, the warm steam curling through the air as he started the shower.

You winced again, and his brow furrowed immediately.

"You're in pain."

"Yeah," you said softly. "Just a little sore."

He hesitated. Then, "You know I could take it from you. Just a few drops…" His voice was quiet, almost hesitant. "I would rather you not suffer at all."

You rolled your eyes. "Elijah, for the thousandth time, I’m fine. It’s not the first time I’ve had a baby. Freya’s herbs will do the trick, just give them a chance."

He let out a slow breath. “You’re impossibly stubborn.”

"And you're chronically overprotective," you replied, but there was a fond warmth in your tone as he carefully peeled your clothes away, his touch reverent. Like you were made of something sacred.

After your shower, he helped you back into bed with fresh pajamas and soft blankets. You were half-asleep before your head hit the pillow, exhaustion pulling at your limbs. Elijah brushed a kiss to your temple and promised he'd return with the baby.

He focused his hearing on the nursery, listening for his daughter’s heartbeat. There it was. Steady and strong. But there was another with it, a familiar rhythm.

Elijah smiled, already moving down the hall.

He pushed open the nursery door to find Rebekah seated in the rocking chair, his baby girl bundled up in her arms, her voice low and sing-song.

“Look, love,” she cooed, glancing up. “Daddy’s here.”

Elijah crossed the room in a few strides, already reaching for her. Rebekah handed the baby over without protest, watching as his arms instinctively adjusted to cradle her just right.

“Hello, my little one,” he murmured, brushing a finger across her cheek. She blinked up at him, her face still soft with sleep.

Rebekah stood and brushed a hand down his arm. “You did it again,” she said, smiling. “She’s absolutely perfect.”

Elijah looked down, his chest swelling with pride. He leaned closer, pressing a kiss to her forehead. She let out a little gurgling noise and squirmed in his arms, her fingers curling and flexing.

Elijah grinned. "I hardly did anything, it was all y/n," he corrected, swaying gently with her in his arms.

"Oh, you were certainly involved," she retorted, raising an eyebrow. "Don't be so modest."

He chuckled and turned his attention back to the baby. "How's my little one?" he murmured, gently running his finger over her cheek.

"I think she's hungry," Rebekah answered, reaching out to tickle the baby's chin. "Shall we take her to mama?"

Elijah nodded his eyes transfixed on the baby in his arms, her little hands stretching out for him, her eyes blinking. Her scent filled his nostrils, that sweet, milky baby smell.

His heart swelled. Then his timer went off.

The baby jolted at the loud noise and started to wail, her face screwing up. Elijah shushed her gently, rocking her back and forth, his voice low and soothing.

"It's okay, little one. Daddy's got you," he whispered, holding her close.

Rebekah watched with a smile. "Come on, brother," she said, patting his shoulder. "I'll take her to mum, you go get breakfast ready."

"Right," he muttered, handing the baby over, his arms feeling suddenly empty without her.

She took her niece and rocked her gently, bouncing her a little. The baby calmed almost immediately, her wails fading to a whimper, then nothing. Rebekah smiled and brushed her finger against the baby's cheek. "That's better," she cooed, tickling her nose.

Elijah watched, unable to keep a smile from spreading across his face. His heart was so full, his love spilling over. Then he remembered the quiches and cursed under his breath.

"Better hurry, brother," Rebekah teased. “I think I smell something burning,���

"Right," he repeated, darting out of the room, the lingering warmth of his little girl still clinging to his chest. His hands felt too light. Empty.

He exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders back as he headed down the stairs, the scent of butter and herbs growing stronger with each step.

The moment his foot hit the bottom step, he regretted coming back down.

There were apples rolling across the floor.

And Kol was juggling three more… poorly.

“Catch!” Kol shouted, tossing one toward Henry, who missed it entirely and dove under the table to retrieve it with a shriek of laughter.

Klaus stood by the kitchen counter, coffee mug still in hand, now thankfully wearing a shirt, an exasperated look on his face. “If you make a mess, I’m compelling you both to clean this entire place with toothbrushes.”

Kol ignored him and tossed another apple, narrowly missing a vase on the counter.

Henry scrambled after it, laughing.

Freya stood by the stove, stirring a fresh batch of her herbs for your postpartum recovery, her gaze darting between the mix and the flying apples. Hayley appeared at Klaus’s elbow, plucking the coffee mug from his hand and taking a long sip.

“Hey,” Klaus protested mildly, turning to frown at her.

“You finished the entire pot so I'm stealing yours,” Hayley retorted, smirking.

An apple rolled across the floor and hit Elijah’s foot, and he pinched the bridge of his nose, a headache already forming. With a resigned sigh, he turned his attention back to the oven, carefully pulling out the quiches. The warm scent quickly filling the kitchen.

As he placed the last tray on the counter, his family began to trickle in, drawn by the promise of food.

Hope and Bex appeared first, both girls chatting animatedly as they pulled out chairs and took their seats. Then Kol, with Henry slung over his shoulder, the boy giggling as he clung to his uncle.

"Those apples were for your mother," Elijah said calmly, though there was a noticeable edge beneath his tone.

"Oh, calm down, Elijah," Kol grumbled, setting his nephew down and ruffling his hair. "We're just having a bit of fun. The apples are perfectly edible."

Henry nodded eagerly, his hair sticking up wildly. "Yeah, they're not even bruised! Mum won't mind."

Elijah resisted the urge to discipline his son, he needed to pick his battles, choosing instead to start slicing the quiches into neat portions. He passed plates to Freya and Hayley, who immediately began distributing them, handing out silverware, cups, and napkins. The chatter and clatter of dishes rose swiftly into a pleasantly chaotic symphony.

"Salt and pepper, please," Kol demanded dramatically.

"Napkin," Henry chirped, waving his hands, he only had a few crumbs from the quiche he had just bitten into. But he was fussy about that sort of thing.

Bex leaned over and whispered something to Hope that set them both giggling uncontrollably, nearly tipping a jug of juice in the process. Hayley caught the jug and began pouring them juice, scolding them lightly for their carelessness.

"Where's mother and the baby?" Klaus asked, his tone light but his brow furrowing.

"Resting," Elijah replied, handing plates to the girls, who eagerly grabbed their share.

"Can we see the baby later?" Hope asked, her mouth already full of food.

"Of course," Elijah replied, giving her a fond smile. "We're having a family dinner around six. I'll bring her down then."

She grinned and dug back into her quiche, excited to meet her newest cousin.

"Speaking of the baby," Kol said, his mouth full, "have you named her yet?"

"The name will be revealed at dinner," Elijah replied, trying his best to maintain his patience.

"Oh, come on, brother," Kol whined. "Just tell us now."

"Please, daddy," Bex added, giving her father her most pleading expression.

"Yeah, come on, Dad!" Henry chimed in as he reached for a second helping.

"Honestly, Elijah, spare us the theatrics," Klaus said with a wicked smile, clearly pleased that he had roped the kids in.

The noise rose steadily. Pleas overlapping, voices louder and more persistent, laughter bouncing off the kitchen walls.

Elijah let out a sigh and rubbed a hand across his forehead. Then he raised his eyes, his dark gaze sweeping over his family. Meeting each of their hopeful gazes in turn…with a silent but unmistakable challenge.

Immediately, everyone fell quiet, forks paused midair, expressions shifting from expectant to sheepish. Then, after a perfectly timed beat of silence, Elijah allowed himself a slow, victorious smile.

"Please, eat," he ordered, voice mild. "Before the quiches get cold."

As the others dug into their meals, the conversation shifted from the baby's name to other matters. Elijah gathered some food for you and carefully poured the special herb tea Freya had prepared. As he headed upstairs, he felt the tension ease from his shoulders, leaving the noise and chaos behind him. He found himself smiling softly at the quiet anticipation of seeing you again.

The bedroom was dim, the curtains still drawn. The cats still close by. You lay curled up next to them, the baby cradled in your arms. You were nursing her, her tiny mouth clamped onto your nipple, her little legs kicking gently.

Rebekah was perched on the end of the bed, watching, a soft smile on her face. She looked up as Elijah entered the room, plates and a mug in hand.

"Oooh, please tell me there is more of that quiche," she said, her eyes lighting up.

Elijah smiled. "Yes, and I brought some for you and y/n."

You looked up from the baby and smiled. "Thank you."

Rebekah looked between the two of you, and sighed dramatically. "Well, I can see when I'm not needed," she said, her tone only half-serious.

"I appreciate everything you do for us," you said, reaching out to squeeze her hand. "I really do."

She smiled and squeezed back. "I'm always happy to help, especially when it comes to my darling nieces and nephews."

She gave you a quick kiss on the cheek, and the baby a gentle caress, then headed toward the door.

"I'll leave you to your rest," she said, glancing back at you. "Call if you need anything."

"Thank you," you repeated, watching her go.

Once the door was closed, Elijah joined you, carefully placing the plate and mug on the nightstand. He settled himself on the bed and watched the baby nursing, his gaze softening.

"I want Henry and Bex to know her name before everyone else," you murmured, brushing a hand across her head.

Elijah smiled warmly. "Of course. Although, you do realize they'll announce it to the entire family within moments of learning it.”

You snorted. "Maybe. I have a feeling Henry is going to be a little protective, he's like his father in that way."

Elijah leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of the baby's head, breathing in her scent.

"They're so little," you murmured, running a finger over her cheek. "And they grow up so fast."

Elijah felt his chest tighten at the thought. He wanted to freeze time, hold onto this moment forever. All of you safe and warm and together.

You reached for his hand and threaded your fingers through his, squeezing. "Hey, where'd you go?"

"I was just thinking about how much I love all of you," he murmured, kissing your fingers. "How blessed I am."

"I think we're all pretty damn blessed," you said, smiling.

Elijah chuckled and reached out, brushing a finger across her cheek. "She's perfect, isn't she?"

You nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "Absolutely perfect."

The courtyard looked like a glitter factory had exploded.

There were stickers on the coffee table. Stickers on the cats. Stickers on Kol’s face.

Elijah didn’t ask.

Kol sat cross-legged on the floor, Bex perched beside him, carefully applying a crown of pink unicorn stickers to his forehead. He looked unbothered. Slightly smug, actually.

“Uncle Kol’s letting me do his makeup,” Bex announced, holding up a lip gloss wand.

“Correction,” Kol said, closing one eye as she dabbed glitter onto his eyelid. “I’m allowing this because I’m a devoted uncle and a fantastic canvas.”

"Who decided we should get cats?" Klaus grumbled, holding Henry’s fluffball, Button, awkwardly under one arm as he swiped a broom across the floor, collecting tufts of fur and glitter.

“Mum and Dad,” Henry answered brightly from beside him, grinning. “And it was a great idea. U-uncle Nik did you k-know that when cats purr, it actually helps them heal faster? And some studies say it helps humans too! Also, they each have d-different meows!!! Rue’s is more like a chirp, and S-sugar squeaks when she’s hungry. B-button’s got this little trill he does when he wants to be carried.” His words tumbled over themselves, barely leaving space to breathe, his eyes shining with excitement.

Klaus chuckled and handed Button off to him, his features softening. “And what about Fig?”

Henry kissed the top of Button’s head before placing him gently back in his kitty castle. He paused.

“Fig’s… different,” he whispered, glancing around like he expected the elusive fourth cat to materialize from the shadows. His voice lowered to a near-whisper.

“Fig disappears a lot. Doesn’t really come when you call. Doesn’t make much noise either. Sometimes he watches you sleep, but not like Rue or Sugar or Button. It’s not... cuddly. Fig is weird. A little scary, sometimes.” Henry paused and straightened, a grin spreading across his face. “Sometimes I see him in Dad’s study. Just sitting on the windowsill. Watching. I don’t think he likes me, but that’s okay. I still love him.”

“Fig is creepy,” Kol muttered, now half bedazzled.

“He’s not creepy!” Bex argued, frowning, poking Kol on the nose with the lip gloss wand. “He’s just shy.”

“And creepy.”

Bex stuck out her tongue. “Don’t be mean.”

Kol rolled his eyes. “Fine. Creepy but cute. Happy?”

Bex considered it, chin tilted up, eyes narrowed. “Okay,” she conceded, nodding.

Klaus glanced toward the upper balconies like he half-expected Fig to appear right then. “Do you know where he is now?”

Henry shrugged. “Probably somewhere quiet. He likes it peaceful.” Then, after a beat: “Or she. No one really knows.”

“Doesn’t sound like they belong in this house,” Klaus muttered, earning a soft, agreeing ‘mmrp’ from Button.

“It’s good for the kids to have pets,” Rebekah called, leaning over the railing of the second-floor landing, looking down on the chaos. “Remember how many animals we had growing up?”

“I remember shoveling sh-”

“Niklaus,” Elijah interjected from the stairwell, voice clipped. “Children present.”

Klaus smirked, unapologetic, and returned to cleaning.

Elijah lingered at the foot of the stairs for a moment, quietly cataloguing the chaos like it was something sacred. Glitter in the rug. Cats sprawled across every surface. Kol being turned into a disco ball. Henry’s laughter echoing off the walls.

It was absurd.

And it was perfect.

You looked down at your sweet baby girl and smiled. She was asleep, her tiny hands curled up by her face, her lips parted slightly, a few wisps of dark hair clinging to her forehead. You were rocking her gently in an antique wooden rocking chair by the window, the early evening sun spilling in and making her glow.

You had managed to get some more rest in the afternoon, thanks to your doting husband and extended family. It felt good, having a newborn. Like the world was soft and bright, everything glowing and warm. You couldn't stop smiling, even though you knew the sleepless nights and endless feedings were only beginning. But you didn't mind. You had done this twice already, you knew the exhaustion and the chaos. You knew it well.

You brushed your thumb across her tummy, feeling a rush of pure love as she stirred in your arms.

You heard the bedroom door open, and looked up to see Elijah stepping inside, Henry and Bex following close behind.

"Hello, my loves," you said, smiling warmly.

"Hi mommy," Bex whispered loudly, grinning.

Henry crossed the room and crouched down in front of the rocking chair, looking up at you. His gaze flickered to the baby, and he held his breath, waiting.

You shifted the baby, adjusting her so her face was visible, then nodded, giving him permission.

Henry let out his breath, and leaned in closer, his eyes widening. He reached out slowly and gently touched her cheek.

"She's so soft," he whispered, awe in his voice.

"Can I touch her?" Bex asked, her voice hushed.

"Of course," you replied, chuckling softly.

Bex approached and knelt beside Henry, watching him, mimicking his movements as she gently brushed her fingers over her cheek.

Elijah knelt behind them, his arm around each child. You felt a swell of love, so much love. A deep, all-consuming warmth filling your chest, spilling out, touching everything.

"Now, remember what we talked about, a new baby means lots of changes. She might get fussy, or cry a lot. And that's okay. Just be patient, and loving, and she'll settle in soon enough," Elijah said, his voice soft, reassuring.

The kids nodded solemnly. All of them had their fathers big brown eyes, warm and earnest.

"Can we hold her?" Bex asked, glancing up at you hopefully.

"Not quite yet," you answered, smiling gently. "Soon."

Bex grinned and reached out, giving the baby's hand a little pat.

"Can I show her the cats?" Henry asked, looking up at his parents.

"Not today," Elijah answered, rubbing his shoulder. "She's too little for that just now."

"We have to keep her safe," you added, reaching out to run your fingers through his hair.

Henry nodded, his gaze softening as he watched her. "Don't worry mum, I'll protect her."

You grinned and glanced over at Elijah, sharing a knowing look. Your son, the protector. So much like his father.

"What's her name?" Henry asked, looking up at you, his gaze wide and full of wonder.

"You have to promise not to tell anyone," you said, giving them a mock stern look. "Keep it a secret until dinner is all I ask,"

"Promise!" Bex said, eagerly nodding her head.

Henry nodded solemnly. "We promise."

Elijah squeezed their shoulders. "Good. Now, her name is..."

Elijah stood before the tall mirror in your shared room, straightening his tie with a practiced hand. The suit was dark and fitted, crisp and ceremonial. More formal than he typically wore these days. But tonight it felt right.

He smoothed the tie down and examined his reflection, pleased. The last time he was dressed this formally was approximately nine months ago, the night your daughter was conceived.

He remembered that night fondly, a slow smile spreading across his face as it came flooding back. Clear as film, flickering behind his eyes

It started with a rare moment alone. All the kids had been whisked away for various sleepovers and playdates with family.

The two of you had dressed up and he cooked a meal for you, an indulgent three-course dinner, complete with wine, candles, and a bouquet of your favorite flowers. He always made a point to surprise you like this whenever the opportunity arose. A romantic to his core.

It hadn’t taken long for the two of you to retire upstairs, both of you a little tipsy, your bodies aching with desire.

He remembered helping you out of your dress, how you tugged on his tie, pulling him close, claiming his mouth in a heated kiss.

How he had carried you to the bed and laid you down, kissing you slowly, a deliberate show, enjoying how you bit your lip, eyes half-closed, body shifting impatiently against the sheets.

He grabbed a condom, rolled it on, and slowly eased into you. You arched against him, your fingers digging into his back, his name falling from your lips.

He set a slow, steady pace, letting you feel every inch of him, your body moving with his. It was always so perfect with you, like your bodies were made for each other, fitting together perfectly.

He didn't know what came over the two of you that night, nothing had been discussed, no plans had been made. Yet somehow, the conversation took place without words, between breathless moans and the slide of skin on skin, a wordless exchange.

He remembered pulling out, his cock still hard, resting against your stomach. He remembered the way you reached down, slowly removing the condom and tossing it aside. Then your eyes had locked with his as you started to stroke him again, savoring the weight of him in your palm.

"I want to feel you," you had murmured, a hint of desperation in your voice.

He leaned down to kiss you, his hands holding your thighs as he pulled them up, pressing into you again. The new angle had made you gasp.

"My beautiful y/n," he’d murmured, his voice low and thick with desire. “My perfect wife,”

Your hands clutched his arms, your fingers digging into his skin, nails leaving little marks. He could feel the heat between your legs burning hotter, the pressure building.

He could still feel the way your skin felt under his hands, as he ran his fingers down your chest, pressing into your lower stomach as he savored just how deep he was. His eyes never left yours, his gaze locked onto yours, searching, asking.

You nodded and he kissed you again, slow and passionate. His hands gripped your thighs, his thrusts becoming harder, more urgent.

He could still recall the way your fingers tangled in his hair, your thighs trembling around his hips, breath coming in short, broken gasps. 

"Come for me, Elijah," you had whispered to him, your voice wrecked and wanting. "Give me a baby.”

The look in your eyes had destroyed whatever control he had left. That soft, desperate plea was all it took. Elijah let go with a deep, guttural groan, his body curling into yours as his hips pressed deeper. He remembered the way you moaned his name, the way you had held onto him as your body trembled with your own climax.

The two of you had lain there, panting, clinging to each other in a sticky haze of sweat and sex and something deeper. Something more than biology, more than desire.

Elijah hadn’t wanted to move. Hadn’t wanted to break the moment. But eventually, you both cleaned up, curled into each other, whispering soft promises of love.

And new life had been made.

Elijah chuckled under his breath, shaking his head, the memory still warm in his chest.

“Something funny?”

He looked up. You were in the doorway, that new life now tucked against your chest, your hand gently cupping the back of her tiny head. A curious smile played at the corners of your mouth.

“Just thinking about the night she was conceived,” he said, his dark eyes glittering. “You really knew what you wanted.”

Your cheeks warmed, but you smirked anyway. “Yeah, well... so did you.”

You were wearing a soft blue cotton dress, your hair twisted up, a few wisps framing your face. Simple. Soft. Beautiful. Your daughter stirred slightly in your arms, her little fists curling into the air.

Elijah drank in the sight of you, his eyes trailing from your face to the curve of your waist, the gentle swell of your stomach, still soft from the pregnancy. You looked nothing like that night of passion…and yet somehow, even more radiant.

You caught him staring and raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“I think you’re stunning,” he said, stepping forward and reaching for your free hand, gently pulling you closer.

You laughed and shook your head. “And I think you’re a sap,” you teased, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

Elijah smiled and wrapped his arms around you, his hand settling at the small of your back. He peeked down at the sleeping bundle between you. “And she’s perfect.”

You leaned into him, careful not to jostle the baby, and looked up to meet his gaze. “Nervous?”

“A little,” he admitted, smoothing his hand down your spine. “This… means more than I can put into words.”

You tilted your head. “You already did the hard part, Elijah.”

His brow rose. “Which part? Making her… or naming her?”

You laughed. “Oh, was making her difficult for you? Poor baby. Such a hardship.. having sex with me. How did you manage to survive…”

He chuckled, the sound deep and low, and leaned in to brush a kiss against your temple. “It was worth the struggle.”

You laughed quietly and shifted the baby in your arms, her little lips twitching in her sleep. “Ready to show her off?”

Elijah took a breath. Then he nodded.

“May I?” he asked softly, reaching for her.

You handed her to him gently, and Elijah adjusted his arms to hold her close against his chest. She stirred softly, letting out a little sigh as she was transferred, her fist still curled tight against her chest. Content, warm and unbelievably safe. His large hand cradled the back of her head, the way it had so many times already, with a kind of reverence that never seemed to fade. He looked down at her, his jaw tight with emotion, and then to you.

“We made her,” he said, almost to himself. Like he still couldn’t quite believe it.

You smiled, your fingers brushing his wrist. “We did.”

He adjusted her, making sure she was comfortable. “I still don’t know how I deserve this,” he murmured.

You only smiled, kissing his knuckles. “Good thing it’s not up to you.”

He kissed her forehead, breathing in that perfect baby smell, then took your hand. “Let’s go.”

The Mikaelson household was buzzing with warmth and gentle chaos. The table had been set beautifully, candles flickering softly, casting golden pools of light onto polished dishes and crystal glasses. Soft piano played somewhere in the background, blending harmoniously with the familiar hum of family chatter.

Klaus sat at the head of the table, leaning back comfortably in his chair, one hand lazily curled around a glass of bourbon as he listened to Kol reminisce about a pair of horses they had back in the 16th century. Marcel and Cami added the occasional comment, clearly enjoying the tale.

Freya, Rebekah and Hayley were watching the kids chase after the cats. Hope and Bex were laughing hysterically, Henry in hot pursuit, the cats scattering. The little boy had a sticker stuck to his sleeve, his hair was wild, his eyes shining with happiness.

Kol's story came to an end, and everyone laughed. Freya poured more wine, the red liquid flowing like silk into crystal glasses.

You and Elijah entered the room, the baby cradled gently in your arms, swaddled in a soft lilac blanket. Elijah's hand rested softly on your lower back, his expression was carefully composed. But you could sense the quiet tension beneath.

The room fell silent. All eyes turned to you.

Elijah cleared his throat, and you took a deep breath, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. You were nervous, you realized. Nervous and excited.

You looked down at your daughter and felt a rush of joy, a deep, bone-deep warmth. You glanced over at Elijah and saw his lips twitching, struggling to suppress a smile.

"Everyone, we're thrilled to introduce you to our daughter," Elijah began, his voice full of warmth.

He let out an awkward cough, and you realised he was trying to keep his voice from cracking. Your heart clenched and you reached for his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

He smiled, grabbed a wine glass, and lifted it above his head, his other hand tightening around yours.

"For over a thousand years," Elijah began, his voice steady yet soft, "I believed myself beyond certain human experiences. Love, family, even hope.... these were fragile things, delicate threads easily severed by time or tragedy. I thought creatures like us, beings born from darkness and violence, could never truly find healing or happiness." His gaze drifted around the table, taking in the faces of his family. His friends, siblings, niece, children... all watching silently.

"And yet, here we stand," he continued, his voice quieter, full of reverence. "In a house filled with laughter and love. Together. Somehow...despite everything. Tonight, I find myself confronted by something I once thought impossible." He paused briefly, throat working as he fought against his emotions. He looked at you, his deep brown eyes bright and full of quiet wonder as his gaze moved down at his child.

"Healing," he murmured finally, as if the word were sacred. "Even for creatures like us. Perhaps especially for creatures like us."

Elijah turned then, focusing on Klaus, raising his glass even higher. Klaus was trying to look serious and emotionless but the look in his eye told you he was anything but.

"Niklaus," Elijah said softly, meeting his brother's eyes directly, "we have walked through lifetimes together. Shared triumphs, tragedies, wounds that refused to heal. I've watched you suffer greatly, bear burdens that no one should ever shoulder alone. Yet, despite it all you chose love. You chose to heal. And in doing so, you've shown me the way."

Klaus's jaw tightened, a visible tremor in his expression and the room seemed to hold its breath.

"And so," Elijah continued, his voice barely above a whisper now, "in honor of your strength, your courage, and the bond that binds us beyond eternity, we proudly name our daughter Nikolette."

There was absolute silence, a collective breath held. Elijah lowered his glass slightly, his expression open, vulnerable in a way he rarely allowed himself to be. "Our hope is that she carries not only your name but also your resilience, your fierce loyalty, and above all, your profound capacity to love and be loved."

He lifted the glass again, the candlelight flickering softly against the crystal, his eyes glistening.

"To family," he said gently, "and to the healing we never believed possible. Always and Forever."

His words faded into silence for a brief moment before Klaus surged up from his seat and embraced his brother, holding him close in a gruff, wordless display of gratitude. Elijah chuckled softly and patted his back, his eyes closed.

"Thank you," Klaus murmured roughly, voice thick with emotion. "Truly, thank you, brother."

Elijah hugged him tighter, briefly allowing himself the comfort of his brother's presence, anchoring himself in the warmth of a bond stronger than centuries of pain and loss.

When Klaus finally stepped back, eyes suspiciously wet, he gave a sharp nod and clapped Elijah affectionately on the shoulder, "Now, pour more wine, let's celebrate properly."

Laughter rippled around the room, breaking the solemn spell, glasses clinking joyfully as chatter rose again, everyone eagerly leaning in to welcome the newest member of the family. Nikolette Mikaelson.

Elijah smiled, blinking quickly to clear his vision, and reached for your hand once more, needing the quiet reassurance of your touch as the cheerful chaos surrounded him once more.

After dinner, the Mikaelson household gradually settled into a gentle, sleepy quiet. The guests had slowly drifted away to their respective rooms, wine glasses set aside, laughter fading into soft murmurs of goodnight. Freya had lovingly taken charge of Nikolette for the night, quietly reassuring you that she would keep watch, calming your anxiety about leaving your newborn, even for a few hours. The kids had been bundled into pajamas by Hayley and Rebekah, their sleepy voices drifting down the hallway as they protested weakly against bedtime.

You wandered through the now-silent house, looking for your husband. You paused to check the kitchen, finding only Klaus quietly sipping bourbon, giving you a knowing nod. He gestured down the hall, murmuring softly, "His study."

You found him standing by the window, the curtains open, the moon casting a silvery glow across his features. He was looking out at the street, his hands clasped behind his back, an empty glass dangling idly from his fingers. Still dressed from dinner. The suit looked sharp on him, almost too sharp. Like armor he hadn’t worn in a while. A relic from a colder, more distant version of himself.

"Hey, you okay?" you asked softly, stepping up beside him, laying a hand on his arm.

He jumped, startled.

"Yes, sorry," he muttered, clearing his throat, and setting down his glass. "Just needed a moment,"

You studied his profile, the way the shadows cast his features into sharp relief, his brow creased slightly, lips pressed into a thin line. You had seen this look before, the calm wall of fog that masked the raging storm inside him.

"Hey, Elijah, talk to me," you said, squeezing his arm, trying to turn him towards you.

He let out a deep breath, shoulders slumping, and turned toward you.

"I'm alright, my love," he said softly, reaching out and caressing your cheek with the back of his knuckles.

You leaned into the touch, the familiar warmth of his skin making you feel safe. You looked into his eyes, and could see he was hiding something.

"You're lying," you said, smiling gently.

He sighed and went to fill his glass. You reached out and snatched the bottle of bourbon from his hand, placing it on a nearby bookshelf. He raised an eyebrow but didn't comment.

"Tell me what's going on in that complicated brain of yours," you said, stepping back into his space, sliding your hands up his chest.

"It's nothing," he said, shaking his head. "Just a bit overwhelmed."

"Mmhm," you hummed, running your fingers up the back of his neck and into his hair, playing with the dark strands.

He let out a shaky breath, his gaze drifting down to the floor. The weight of the day was catching up to him. You could see how hard he was trying to hold back, to be strong for you.

"Hey, don't do that," you murmured, cupping his face, forcing him to look at you. "It's okay, I'm here. You don't have to keep it all locked up inside."

He swallowed hard and blinked quickly, the tension in his body visible. You took his hand and guided him to the sofa, tugging him down beside you.

You tucked yourself under his arm, resting your head on his shoulder and looking up at him, watching some of his tension slowly ease. He took a deep breath, and let it out, his grip tightening around your shoulders.

Fig jumped up from behind the sofa, startling you both. Elijah reached out and allowed the cat to climb across his shoulder before he lifted him onto his lap.

"Sorry, kitty," he muttered, giving him a quick scritch behind the ears.

You snorted, shaking your head. Fig meowed and curled up, closing his eyes. Perfectly content. Like he always was with Elijah.

"Fig likes you the most," you teased, nuzzling closer to his side.

"Perhaps," Elijah replied, rubbing the cat's head. "We're similar in many ways."

You snorted, and reached out to scratch the cat's head.

"So, you wanna tell me what's going on in there?" you murmured, glancing up at him.

He sighed, and leaned back, his fingers curling into Fig's fur. You pressed a kiss to his cheek and waited, giving him the time and space to find the words.

“Earlier,” he began hesitantly, eyes downcast, “when you refuse my blood, you won't let me heal you.. I felt… I feel...” He paused, searching for the right words, his brow furrowing deeply. “I feel as though I have failed you somehow. That despite all I try to do, I will never truly be enough to protect you. To care for you as you deserve.”

“Oh, Elijah,” you murmured, your heart aching at the pain in his voice. You reached over, gently placing your hand over his. “That’s not true. You take care of all of us so beautifully. You don’t have to fix everything."

He looked at you with those big brown eyes, so dark and full of sadness, and you felt your chest tighten.

"All of this feels like it's running through my hands," he whispered, gesturing vaguely around him, his expression raw and open. "Like I can't hold on. It's all sand... And before I know it, all of you will be gone." He shook his head, voice cracking. "Our children will grow. And one day, they'll leave. They'll live full, mortal lives and be taken from me by time…and I will remain. Alone."

Your eyes widened, tears springing to your eyes as you pulled him into a hug. His arms wrapped around you tightly, his face buried in the crook of your neck. You held him close, stroking his hair, his back, trying to comfort him.

"Elijah," you whispered, squeezing him gently. "You can't fixate on the past or the future. Just... Be here. Right now. In this moment. We're here, and we're okay."

"I know," he mumbled, his voice muffled. "I know that, intellectually, I just..." He trailed off, letting out a shaky sigh.

You kissed his temple and leaned back, smiling.

"Besides," you said, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. "With this family, living a natural life is probably off the table," you added, shrugging with a soft chuckle.

"True," Elijah admitted, nodding. He gave a quiet laugh… perhaps a bit thin, but genuine… and leaned in, brushing his nose against yours.

You kissed him, gently at first, then deeper, more insistent.

"What was that for?" he asked when you pulled away, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"A reminder," you replied, smiling. "I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."

He squeezed your bottom and you giggled, swatting him playfully. That warmth was returning now…slowly, steadily.

"Now, how about we go snuggle our kids," you suggested, grinning.

He nodded, smiling. “Let’s,”

Elijah was quiet as he followed you through the darkened halls of the compound.You pushed the door to Henry's room open and peered inside.

He was curled up with Buttons, Rue, and Sugar. His stuffed animals had been placed around him like little sentinels. You could hear him murmuring in his sleep, something about horses. You smiled and carefully stepped into the room, crossing to his bedside.

"Hey, my sweet boy," you whispered, smoothing his hair away from his forehead.

He mumbled something, and all three cats moved a little closer, tucking themselves up against him. You chuckled softly and reached out, gently running your hand over the three cats’ heads.

"Goodnight, little ones," you whispered, bending down and kissing Henry's cheek.

"G’night," Henry muttered, rubbing his cheek against the pillow.

You straightened and smiled at Elijah, who was watching silently from the doorway. He stepped in and crossed to the bedside, his footsteps making no sound.

"I'll protect her," Henry mumbled, half-asleep, his eyes still closed.

"I know you will," Elijah murmured, leaning in and kissing his forehead. "Sleep well, son."

"Goodnight, papa," Henry whispered, rolling onto his back, snuggling Rue against his cheek.

Bex was already asleep when you entered her room. She had kicked her blankets off, her legs tangled up in the sheets, one foot dangling off the edge. Her hair was a wild tangle of dark curls. You carefully tucked her in, straightening her pillow, brushing the hair away from her face. She smiled in her sleep, a soft little sound escaping her lips.

Elijah fixed her blankets, gently rearranging them so they wouldn't end up a tangled mess, and kissed her cheek.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," he whispered, straightening.

You smiled and followed him out the door, closing it gently behind you. He took your hand and you walked together in comfortable silence to the next room, Nikolette's room.

Freya had nodded off in the rocking chair by the window, a blanket draped loosely over her legs, her head tilted against the cushion. The baby slept peacefully in her crib nearby, her breathing soft and steady.

Elijah held you close as the two of you watched your baby sleep. He sniffled so quietly you almost didn't hear him. You reached out and touched his face, wiping away the tears that had gathered at the corners of his eyes.

He blinked rapidly and turned to you, a soft, tender look on his face.

"I am... so happy," he murmured, voice raw. "You have given me a life beyond anything I ever dared to hope for. And I’m terrified, because loving this deeply means losing it would destroy me."

"I know," you whispered, stroking his cheek. "But, we're here. And we're okay. We're together, and we have each other."

He leaned in and kissed you, his lips soft, gentle, full of emotion. You melted into his arms, the warmth of his presence wrapping around you like a blanket, making you feel safe and loved.

The two of you stayed there for a long while, the only sound was the soft breathing of your daughter and the beating of your hearts.

"I think," Elijah whispered, his voice a deep rumble as he kissed the side of your head, "it's time we got some sleep too."

You nodded, yawning. He chuckled, the sound low and deep, and pulled you closer.

"Come on, love," he murmured, wrapping his arms around you.

He carried you across the hall and into your room. Your bed was already turned down, a fire burning in the fireplace, casting a warm glow over the room. He set you gently down and slid in beside you, tucking you into his arms.

As Elijah watched you fall asleep, he found himself unable to tear his eyes away. Your eyelashes fluttered, the lines around your mouth relaxing, the gentle rise and fall of your chest calming him, reminding him that this was real, it was happening, and he was blessed with the gift of a beautiful life.

His mind drifted, thoughts wandering, memories swirling. A thousand years of sorrow, loss and suffering. A lifetime of pain and regret. And yet... here he was, wrapped in the warmth of true love. A family he created. A home filled with laughter and hope. A future filled with possibility.

He closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh, the weight of a thousand years finally beginning to lift. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and fell asleep, holding you tight, his heart full.

No matter what comes, no matter how uncertain tomorrow may be. 

He has this day.

This perfect, quiet day.

It would become the brightest in his long, immortal life.

[thisismeracing]

Hi lovely, I was wondering if I could please request a French girl version of the Greek girl.

oui, bb! <3 you didn't specify if with mick or Charles, but I'm going with Charles. Hope its ok *mwah*

Requests are now CLOSED

CHARLES DATING A FRENCH GIRL | CL16

Warnings: mentions of food; tooth-rotting fluff; mentions of family members; not proofread.

A/n: Just a quick reminder that there are many shades, experiences, and backgrounds regarding French and their culture, what I am writing does not resume everything, but rather brings a piece of it to the table. <3

▸ my masterlist | my taglist | patreon guide ▸ support my writing by reblogging, leaving a comment (don’tforget to follow me if you like the piece), or buying me a coffee)

Ok, so both of you speak French, which means there's no need to learn a new language for communication. However, I think Charles would definitely get your accent and probably copy a few of your expressions as well;

He MELTS the first time you call him "chéri";

Now you know how upset he gets when people confuse him for a French person right? But now he'll take the opportunity to mention that you're French;

"I'm Monegasque, but my girlfriend is French," with the biggest smile on his face;

The first time he met your family they made Quiche and Soufflé he almost cried, couldn't stop saying how delicious it was and how he would be bothering them for food all the time now. Turns out he wasn't joking because every available time he has, he'll drive/fly to your family house to spend time with them and eat whatever yummy stuff your grandma made - especially because she'll adapt the recipes to his athletic reality;

Date nights are basically you and him choosing typical dishes to make. Your favorite is Ratatouille, but you'll go all around the world, sometimes choosing to cook something from Japan or Colombia;

You think those Eiffel towell couples were super cheesy, but LOVED the boat date he organized and of course, you got tons of Polaroids kissing in front of the towel;

Fans will spot you two dancing and laughing during the Fête de la Musique celebrations;

You love Paris, but your city of love with Charles is probably Toulouse or Nice;

He loved the fact that you and your family were near him, a quick plane ride distance most times.

Speaking of family, your family and his are super close. So much they spend time together without you. Your siblings with his, your nana and dad with his mom, and you two just love how you become a big family.

[pomegranatesarchive]

what would you like to eat today? just pick something—an appetizer, a main course, or a dessert—and a boy (or multiple) of your choice! would you prefer a shrimp cocktail or teriyaki salmon?

you can choose from the following characters/people: formula one, harry potter, criminal minds, and even stranger things! please let me know who you want me to write about! i do also accept pairing + reader, just be specific!

THE RESTAURANT IS NOW CLOSED

the menu:

.

hainanese chicken rice: "i like your...pupils?"

pad thai: "before you say anything about me being at home tonight, i want to remind you that you are too.”

zabaglione: "did you know you talk in your sleep?"

nasi goreng: “since when does your job extend to giving me relationship advice?”

chocolate mousse: "your feet are freezing!"

pho: “you seemed a little off on the phone, so i wanted to make sure you had something nice to come home to.”

kimchi-jjigae: "shit, i forgot to grab an umbrella. i didn't know it was raining"

beef bourguignon: "have you ever been in love?"

macarons: "why are you so jittery?"

flan: "don't worry, i won't tell anyone that my big bad roommate is afraid of a little thunder."

ratatouille: “tell me how you fell in love with me.”

soufflé: “why are you so grumpy all the time?”

quiche lorraine: “you fell asleep in my arms. it was kind of adorable.”

risotto: “can i sleep in your room tonight? is that weird to ask?”

cacio e pepe: "we'll need to do some serious redecorating if i do move in."

dorayaki: "please don't ask me if i'd still love you if you turned into a zombie."

atayef: “i’d love to stop kissing your neck in public, believe me, but it’s all i can reach!”

banana pudding: "i want to stay and watch those stupid nature documentaries. okay?"

shawarma: “look, i got us matching pool floaties!”

mango sticky rice: “it’s not my fault your boxers are so comfortable. besides, it’s not like anyone’s going to know.”

focaccia: "can we do that again? my eyes were closed."

tiramisu: "i left you a note, did you read it?"

pinakbet: “hey, wait up- your collar’s all crooked, let me fix it.”

mooncakes: "we can't keep meeting like this. someone will find out."

ragù alla bolognese: "what do you mean you've never gone trick-or-treating?!"

churros: "i brought you flowers."

mapo tofu: "i did your taxes."

albondigas: "you...you learned how to cook my favorite food?"

teriyaki salmon: "who needs friends? i have you."

crema catalana: "are you jealous?"

rice pudding: "you sure this looks fine?"

sinigang: "i thought you wanted some space?"

rasgulla: "why are you looking at me like that?"

kofta: "yawning whilst trying to convince me you’re not tired tends to have the opposite effect.”

shrimp cocktail: "you're telling me that you've only had one crush your entire life? that's bullshit. tell me who it is."

empanadas: "you smell good."

paella: "are you always this happy?"

pani puri: "you kissed me! you kissed me, how's that not a big deal?"

brownies: "i'm not sleeping in your bed, it hurts when my legs dangle over the edge, you know?"

chiles en nogada: “can i hold your hand? is that weird to ask?”

baba ghanoush: "I would've moved to the floor but you were using me as a pillow."

tempura: "i'm sorry, babe, are those flashcards?"

biangbiang noodles: “weird way to propose but the answer is yes.”

clam chowder: “you’re sleeping on the floor.”

chicken riggies: "stop jumping in those leaves"

chocolate mousse: ”you look—uh, good. you look good.”

haricots verts with herb butter: "you know you can just say 'no' if you don't want to come with me to the party."

roast duck: “are you okay? you look a little…”

leg of lamb: "why did you pick me of all people to haunt?"

cedar-plank salmon: "put the icing DOWN."

french toast: "you can… drink blood from me if you want."

chocolate cake: "am i too close?"

lemon curd: "laundry day doesn’t mean walking around in your underwear, but for you, i’ll make an exception."

bouillabaisse: "jealous? me? pff. never."

.

thank you for participating!! hope you enjoyed <33

[sevs-corner]

Random HCs I have for the Tf 141: Mafia AU! characters :PP

for future plot points hehe

Ghost is a cat person but only came to love dogs because of Johnny adopting Riley and him ending up raising it for most of the time

On the other hand, Graves hates cats and hates you for taking care of the chonky white cat at the alleyway by the bakery (He also hates that you take care of it more than you do with him, like c'mon he wants to be fed by you too)

All of them are boy failures when they try courting you, and you try your best to reciprocate !! (but sometimes that there's so silly and trip over their own shoelaces that its too cute not to stand and watch sometimes)

Those big scary men being love sick fools

They definitely get slack for it from Nonna and Nonno

The two (Ghost and Graves) have the biggest sweet tooth actually, and then run through the entire stock of treats whenever they stop by but are unable to sit and eat

Ever since you started working regularly, the guys try to stop by as often as they can, which makes Nonno and Nonna happy (becuase they were drifting further away until you came)

Only Price, Ghost, Soap, and Gaz visit often even before you came but even that became harder to do as time went on

So, Nonno and Nonna likes spoiling you with food because of it (not like you knew the intention behind their actions, you were just happy to eat free food really)

Price and Johnny is the type to just drink coffee in the morning then go about their day, only eating meals once or twice

They aren't the biggest eaters, even though Johnny does more physically laboring tasks

But he's more of a protein shake kinda guy, the type to drink his meal if all of it can be blended (he couldn't be bothered to prep his own meals)

Gaz, on the other hand, needs his meals

So he ends up dragging Ghost along with him in the mornings at the bakery for the breakfast special

Ghost doesn't really care to have anything in the morning 'cause his appetite kicks in (for some reason) late at night, so that's when he eats a lot

Alejandro is a 3-in-1 coffee drinker and Rudy is appalled

Even more so at you as you encourage this behavior by making his sachet 3-in-1s fancy with all the extra foam and drawings on top (he's jealous)

Rudy is a plain black kinda guy, but will try anything you offer or have concocted with (he's just a test dummy for your experiments but he's happy being your dummy either way)

Graves loves lattes, hot or iced- you already know what he's feeling for depending how he strolls into the bakery

If he's a bit downtrodden, he needs a cold pick-me-up, but if he's hyper and needs a bit of a cold down? that hot one would be very much appreciated

He also isn't the type to eat a lot, but will scarf down anything you make (he would never decline any of your offers or experiments)

The one who gives you the best critique to your creations is Gaz, Rudy, and Ghost actually-- straightforward, gut-punched, but points of improvement all the same

Graves and Soap sugar coats too much, Alejandro gives simple praises (not wanting to make you hurt for commenting on your hard work) and Price...

Well, a simple nod and smile is enough to make you happy that he doesn't get the chance to as you prance away in happiness

>Bonus part:

Konig and Horangi loves your savory treats, like those quiches, tarts, pies-- everything, the whole menu!

Just send them a picture of your creation and they're quickly finishing off a guy and bookin' it to the bakery in no time

Konig likes the space (table) you saved for them at the side, a bit secluded but still in view of both entraces

He knows you keep it clean, with their favorite condiments stacked to the side, seats fluffed and cushioned, table clear of any food residue-- every. single. time.

Konig also like your personal favorites of treats as well (makes him feel closer to you somehow)

But draws the line at your weird concoctions of combines drinks he's not quite fond of (like that coffee and soda mix? yeah, he did not want to get palpitations thank you very much)

Horangi is one of the few who ready and willing to try out anything you dish out

Even that special energy drink you tried making for Soap once, and let's just say that he couldn't sleep soundly for a week...

He doesn't regret it though, when he sees your gummy grin and tiny hops that you do when you get excited

Maybe...next time...just lower the dosage for his sanity, please?

Alex and Farah are a duo you don't quite see often but wished you did!

Alex pops by at least once or twice a week to pick up his orders, but more often than not, you're delivering their orders to their HQ

Barely having the chance to eat with them makes you sad (they are too), but when you guys do-- you go on for hours

Gossiping is the main source of Farah's entertainment and why both also avoid doing it with you

Because, one time, they went on for hours that lunch became dinner and that became a sleep over

And they had to catch up on so much work

Yeah, they're both yappers

and they indulge you and your interest so much, that they're mainly the ones getting you the things you like and it being displayed in your room

You like that one movie with cars in it? Boom, you have the same race car as a bed

Roach actually helps around more than anyone in the family

Even though he's handling the back more, you sure as damn well know he makes the best food ever

He's sometimes with the 141 guys or KorTac duo, but either way-- you'd seen him come alone to the bakery a lot

Being his ear and shoulder when he needs it, but vice versa as well

the usual culprit that overstays at your apartment really (which makes the others rage)

Roach is the happiest when he sees you eating his food happily, so don't blame him when you become a lil' plump (you're cute either way and he'll definitely lessen it if you ask him to)

Makarov visits the least but always does the grandest of things (he's extra like that)

Surprisingly, Nikolai is tied to hip with him whenever he comes in (he keeps Makarov in check really)

And they either visit super early in the morning or late into closing that sometimes you come in early or close out late just so you could do something for them

they don't want you forcing yourself like this but they appreciate you very much

Makarov and Nikolai loves spicy food, or food that just gives them a kick in the mouth and they love how you adjust it to their taste the best

They are more of tea and beer drinkers really

Water? The tap is dry and so they are

So you have to force them to drink it in between

And that's the moment they leave and try to escape

Just so you know, you have chased them down the street before in nothing but your flip flops and you still caught up to them (not before accurately hitting them on the head with it)

Kate, Allen, and Ramirez often come in together as well, a quick order-in and a pick up thereafter

They're busy with the reconnaissance work but likes making light banter with you

Some scones, mini brownies, or any quick bite- they'll have it and compliment for your hard work

Allen likes his coffee half and half while Ramirez likes it in shots, he needs his bursts of energy being the 'designated' errand boy of the two after all

Kate on the hand, has a jug of tea (you swear) but often takes two to three cups for herself (which you happened to learn was actually all hers once you asked a confused Allen about it one morning)

And yeah, that it (thought it'd be neat to see what i can come up with for their food and treat preferences hehe) Please check out the chapters and other one-shots here in this masterlist!

[kaibutsushidousha]

Every otaku producer on any at least decently-sized project is chained to very BIG MONEY merch contracts. Merch sales are one of the biggest cogs making the anime industry run and because of that, merch manufacturers expect producers not to allow anything that would make their products fail to reflect the contents of the show.

A recent example that sparked controversy about this is the new Tokyo Mew Mew reboot anime. Mew Mew is a series where pretty much everyone important has food names, but the early scanlators failed to notice how far this motif extended and rendered Quiche's name as Kisshu. This is spread in the fandom enough to make merch makers assume that was the proper way to spell his name in English and produce pins with the name Kisshu written in Roman letters. Thanks to that, over a decade later, the Mew Mew translator on Crunchyroll subs is forced to use Kisshu on her script despite knowing it's wrong.

But this is a Type-Moon post, so let's talk about Type-Moon instead. On October 29th, 2010, Nasu released Fate/complete material III, containing profiles for all Servants featured in Fate/stay Night. In his lack of English knowledge, he most likely relied on Google to learn how to romanize all those names. This generated two curious results: Arthuria was rendered as Altria, as the first search result for アルトリア would be the cigarette corporation, and Rider favored the French spelling Medousa over the English Medusa.

Flash forward to May 25th, 2016. At this year, Fate/Grand Order had already been released and proved itself a commercial success against all odds. In celebration of that, FuRyu Corporation sculpted the source of all evil.

FuRyu's figure utilized the erroneous "Altria" from Complete Material III. Here is where I want you to notice that FuRyu did not release a Medusa figure alongside it. "Altria Pendragon" is the only character in this collection.

Our next chronological stop is August 14, 2016. Merely 3 months after the FuRyu Altria figure began to spread its corruption through all we know and love. That's the day Fate/Grand Order Material I came out, containing profiles for Saber Arthuria and Medusa.

As you can see in the right corner, Medousa is no more. Due to having 6 more years to learn things and no merch contract forever chaining him to his spelling mistake, Nasu had the opportunity to correct Medusa's name, which also settled it as the name FGO NA legally had to go with.

So when I say FGO NA translators went with Tam Lin because it's literally illegal not to do so, I am talking about

[simdertalia]

🍳 ACNH Big Food Set 4 🍛

💗 Sims 4, Base game compatible, steam animation requires Cats & Dogs. 41 items

Always suggested: bb.objects ON, it makes placing items much easier. For further placement tweaking, check out the TOOL mod.

You can raise & lower items with 0 and 9 on your keyboard.

Use the scale up & down feature on your keyboard to make the items larger or smaller to your liking. If you have a non-US keyboard, it may be different keys depending on which alphabet it uses.

Set contains: -Al Ajillo Skillet Anchovy (steam & non steam versions) | 3 swatches for pan color | 894 poly -Al Ajillo Skillet Bread (steam & non steam versions) | 3 swatches for pan color | 794 poly -Al Ajillo Skillet Mushroom (steam & non steam versions) | 3 swatches for pan color | 654 poly -Al Ajillo Skillet Seafood (steam & non steam versions) | 3 swatches for pan color | 654 poly -Al Ajillo Skillet Tomato (steam & non steam versions) | 3 swatches for pan color | 758 poly -Curry with Bread Carrot | 1 swatch | 1004 poly -Curry with Bread Mushroom | 1 swatch | 1034 poly -Curry with Bread Potato | 1 swatch | 1053 poly -Curry with Bread Pumpkin | 1 swatch | 1012 poly -Curry with Bread Squid Ink | 1 swatch | 1192 poly -Curry with Bread Tomato | 1 swatch | 956 poly -Cutting Board (slotted) | 5 swatches | 78 poly -Frying Pan Empty (Has slot. Steam & non steam versions) | 1 swatch | 766 poly -Frying Pan Failed Attempt (Steam & non steam versions) | 1 swatch | 934 poly -Frying Pan Pasta (Steam & non steam versions) | 1 swatch | 934 poly -Frying Pan Pizza (Steam & non steam versions) | 1 swatch | 934 poly -Frying Pan Ratatouille (Steam & non steam versions) | 1 swatch | 934 poly -Frying Pan Veggie Saute (Steam & non steam versions) | 1 swatch | 934 poly -Salad | 8 swatches for plate color | 1086 poly -Salad Carrot | 8 swatches for plate color | 486 poly -Salad Fruit | 8 swatches for plate color | 1202 poly -Salad Mushroom | 8 swatches for plate color | 536 poly -Salad Poke | 8 swatches for plate color | 412 poly -Salad Seafood | 8 swatches for plate color | 1124 poly -Salad Turnip | 8 swatches for plate color | 1176 poly -Sandwich Fruit | 5 swatches for plate color | 868 poly -Sandwich Salmon | 5 swatches for plate color, 2 bread colors, 10 total swatches | 868 poly -Sandwich Veg | 5 swatches for plate color | 1201 poly -Vegetable Quiche (steam & non steam versions) | 6 swatches for plate color | 848 poly

Type “acnh big food set 4" into the search query in build mode to find  quickly. You can always find items like this, just begin typing  the title and it will appear.

📁 Download all or pick & choose (SFS, No Ads): HERE

📁 Alt Mega Download (still no ads): HERE

📁 Download on Patreon

Will be public on September20th, 2024 💗 Midnight CET

Happy Simming! ✨ Some of my CC is early access. If you like my work, please consider supporting me (all support helps me with managing my chronic pain/illness):

★ Patreon  🎉 ❤��� |★ Ko-Fi  ☕️  ❤️ ★ Instagram📷

Thank you for reblogging ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

@sssvitlanz  @maxismatchccworld @mmoutfitters  @coffee-cc-finds  @itsjessicaccfinds  @gamommypeach  @stargazer-sims-finds  @khelga68  @suricringe  @vaporwavesims  @mystictrance15 @moonglitchccfinds @xlost-in-wonderlandx @jbthedisabledvet

Candy Apple that is sitting in the pan is by Jennisims

The rest of my CC

[almondmilktargaryen]

The Girl Who's Got Agoraphobia (Part One)

*pictures not mine. layout made via canva

Summary: You're the girl with agoraphobia Michael told Oliver about. You're known for not leaving your room much (obviously). But that doesn't stop Michael from checking on you.

Couple: Fem!Reader/Michael Gavey

Category: Flangst, friends to lovers

Content warnings: Agoraphobia stuff, pretentious dark academia vibes with English literature (no, I’m not sorry)

Word count: 1.4k

A/N: as someone with agoraphobia, I saw an opportunity to make something cute, so I pounced. Enjoy :)

Also on my Ao3

Part one | Part two | Part three | Part four

Class of 2006

From your window, you see your classmates disperse across campus. They stumble together, arms around necks and howling to the sky so loud, like wannabe werewolves. You can hear them from your window. Most of them seem to stumble toward the Botanic Gardens (which are closed) or to the Christ Church Meadow to gawk at cows and pass out in the grass before sunrise.

And all you can think is, thank God.

Thank God that you chose not to go to that dinner. You saw the setup whenever you passed the dining hall between classes. The tables looked narrow and the chairs were so close together, that there was no way you were going to snag a seat at the end. All those chairs in one room. It was enough to make you panic at the idea of being there. You would have definitely needed an escape plan before the first course was even served.

No, instead you preferred watching your classmates from your big chair, surrounded in the comfort of night, your things, and solitude while they clattered atop one another like drones in a hive. It only confirms that you made the right choice.

The knock on your door, however, briefly makes you question otherwise, but only for a moment. The adrenaline taking course from your heart to your limbs nearly made your knees buckle and force you back down to your seat. It obviously wasn’t your roommate, Venitia. She moved out two weeks into the semester because you never left the room (her words). You did leave your room, though. Just when it was essential: class, studying, and eating. Optional dinners to celebrate the class of 2006 were simply nonessential. So the word of you being the girl with agoraphobia spread quickly. You heard about it when you left your room, of course.

But when the adrenaline finally kicked it down a notch and you could step forward, you did so carefully with arched feet and great hesitancy. The doors are so thick and old, that it’s difficult to hear the old floors creak with weight shifts. Your eye follows the light from your peephole. Its faintness matches the atmosphere of your candles, except you can see the dust particles ebbing and flowing in the tiny beam. Your hand was already on the knob, though, because you knew who it was. You just had to make sure. You swallowed as you opened the door, your heart still pumping.

“Michael, hi.” You try to sound put together and keep your legs straight and unmoving as you lean on the door.

Michael Gavey, an actual genius and basically your only friend at this pretentious place, grins as you stand in the doorway. His Cheshire Cat lips curl as he says hello. He was one of the kindest people here, as evidenced by the plate in his hands, wrapped in clingfilm. The condensation was prevalent from the steam. “I brought you some dinner.” He holds it out for you to take.

And of course, you took it (while trying not to smile too widely). He was a good friend. “Thank you,” you eventually say. The plate was weighty with a hefty portion of quiche and lamb chops. You cock your head to the side, encouraging Michael to come in. “You didn’t have to do this for me.”

“It wasn’t a problem,” Michael said. He drops his satchel by the door as per usual. “I asked the staff to save a plate for you since you said you weren’t coming.”

You shut the door behind him. He takes his spot on the floor, next to your bookshelf. Most of his classes this semester involved maths (which was something you also bonded over. You both don’t like maths). He doesn’t get to indulge in the classics as much as he would want, so he takes the time to steal a novel from you when the two of you hang out in your room (often). He’s a horrible thief because he ends up giving them back. And if he’s feeling extra generous, he’ll slide it back exactly where he found it in the bookcase. You rarely remember where they originally were, but Michael manages to recall every time. Then you’ll discuss what he read. He loves literary analysis. You can see the way his eyes light up.

It was surprisingly easy to be natural with one another, considering he was bloody awkward when you met at orientation this past summer. You grew close quickly when discussing The Picture of Dorian Gray after discovering a statue of Oscar Wilde near the Pitt Rivers Museum. While you focused on the symbolism of vanity, Michael spoke about how corruption destroys everyone in the end. You also talked about Oscar Wilde and how certain (non-straight) elements of his life bled into his works. So it was surprising to find out that Michael’s major focused on mathematics and science.

You grab a fork from one of the kitchenette drawers before sitting across from Michael. You unwrap the plate and immediately go for a lamb chop. Meaty, with actual flavor. You chew and cover your mouth with your hand. “So how was it?” You asked him.

Michael shrugs. “Unremarkable, mostly. Nothing too surprising.”

You swallow. “Hm.”

“Hm, what?”

“You usually have more complaints over events like these. So something positive must have happened.” You didn’t want to ask further, out of fear you might learn something you’d rather not. “Did you meet someone?”

“Oh, I did.”

You inhale. “Who?”

“Another new student. Name’s Oliver Quick.”

You exhale. And you feel better.

“Quiet. Mostly odd, but,” he shrugs, “I’m not one to talk.” He snickers as he looks at you. It’s the classic dorky snicker that nerds in TV shows and movies always get assigned. To you, it’s sweet, because he doesn’t show it often.

You pick up some quiche. “Do you think he’ll like it here?”

“He’s not one for conversation, really. I had to pull words out of him most of the night. He wouldn’t even ask me a sum when I told him how good I am at maths. I served the topic on a silver platter.”

A pun was there as you swallowed, looking down at your own silver platter. But you know Michael is cross enough when he can’t see the joke in front of him. So you took another bite.

“So, he seems as hopeless at making friends as we are. I guess we’ll find out.”

“Where’d he go after?”

“Dunno,” he said. “I came straight here.”

That forces you to smile. The candles burn around you, hot like your cheeks. The heat prickles and you hope it’s not too obvious in the light.

Michael continues to smile at you, unchanging, so it seems you’re in the clear. And it’s not long until he leans back to gaze at your bookshelf. He points to the empty space in the middle. “What did you read today?”

“Virginia Woolf,” you reply.

“Oh, which one?”

“A Room of One’s Own. A memoir.”

“Ugh.” He scrunches his nose. He hates memoirs. He’s often informed you about how he thinks too many people write memoirs. But he habitually picked the Kate Chopin works from your shelf, so his opinion instantly becomes a moot point. Luckily, he finds them interesting enough to read on his own, so you’re spared from explaining why the main character ultimately hates being married. He picks out The Awakening. And then he looks at you after scanning the synopsis. “What?”

“Ugh.” You copy his tone.

“Don’t be cross with me because you enrolled late. Would you really have rather taken the one about Fitzgerald?”

“At least he and Zelda are more interesting behind the scenes.”

“Ouch.” Michael puts his hand over his chest, a pained expression on his face. “A burning statement from someone who calls themselves a feminist.”

“If I wanted stories about women who hated being married, I’d be at home with my mum and aunts.”

Michael hesitates to snicker again. “Okay, fair point.”

“You can keep that for a few days if you want. I won’t need that until December.”

“You’re not eager to read about…” he squinted at the back of the book. “Edna Potellier?”

“And the sexual awakening that makes her realize she doesn’t want to be a wife and mother anymore? Again? Not until I have to.”

“Wow. Antifeminist and serving spoilers. Your cruelty is limitless.”

You try to kick him. Then again, ‘try’ is a strong word. He dodges anyway before finding the first page.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Life in the City 4

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bad friends, creep behaviour, abuse of power dynamics, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You move to the big city and find yourself swallowed up by its chaos.

Characters: Clark Kent, Thor Odinson, short!reader

Note: I think I'm addicted to thick men.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you. No tag list, do not ask for updates.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Tuesday sees a new block in your calendar. The three hour meeting stands out in the internal calendar as its highlighted bright yellow. You don’t know where it’s come from. You’re nervous.

Have you done something wrong? Is this a firing? Does that really take three hours?

You try not to let your innate insecurity get the best of you. You click on it but the new window offers little more than the time. All participants are hidden and there’s no description aside from ‘meeting’. The only other information is the conference room number. Right, so you’re going to implode in the hour leading up to it.

You try to focus but the Excel lines are much tighter than usual. They seem to blur together as you file through a thousand different possibilities and none of them are good. What do you do if you are in trouble? If you do lose your job? You have nothing to fall back on.

You get up ten minutes from the start of the meeting. The building is still new to you and you have to check the placards on the wall to make sure you’re at the right conference room. The door is already open and you slow down as you see Tony strut through ahead of you. This definitely seems off. He’s one of the top execs…

What if it’s a mistake? What if you were added by accident? Maybe you misunderstood it. Maybe it was a notice to stay away. Oh, you’re so confused.

You enter the room and hug your notebook to your chest. The table against the far wall is arranged with trays of catering; pastries, fruits, veggies, quiche, all sorts of delights. Alongside the treats are coffee and tea and a frosty jug of water.

Tony helps himself to a cup of coffee and several tarts. Several other seats are already filled. You vaguely recognise them, not all by name, but you know they’re from various departments. You sit at the table and lay your notebook down, nervously gripping the spiral as you flick your thumb against the tip of the pen slid within.

No one else seems to notice you. They all know each other and chatter among themselves. Five including you. Not very many at all. You wait, wondering who called the meeting as no one seems in a hurry to begin.

The door clicks but you’re the only one who hears it as they rest or deep in conversation. You peek over as Thor strides to the head of the table, stopping behind the high-backed chair.

“I hope you all helped yourselves to the wonderful treats,” he smiles, “don’t mind me as I grab a few before we begin.”

He carries on to the trays and you look down at your notebook. You open it to the first blank page and slide your pen free of the coil. You wiggle it between your fingers as you wait. Surely, it can’t be disciplinary. There’s food and Tony is one of the top guys.

Thor returns, a healthy mound of sweets and fruits on his plate and a steaming cup in the other. He sits and pushes his shoulders wide, sighing as he peers up and down the table. You shrink down as you sit at the opposite end.

“Well, we are all here,” he declares, drawing the silence of the rest. They all turn their attention on him. “I think some of you already know why I’ve brought you here but we have lots of time to get filled in. We’ll be taking breaks of course but we won’t waste time, yes?”

“Yes, sir,” your voices reply out of turn.

“We will be working on a very special project. It’s big news that we’ve acquired Onyx Row and it’s all well and good to put a pretty bow on it and send out a release, but we have to handle all that background noise. We have to figure out how that works,” he explains. 

You’re almost hypnotised by his voice and the way he moves his hands as he speaks. He’s so confident and carefree. You envy him as much as you admire him.

“You have all been handpicked to take this on,” he pauses to look at each and every one of you. “We need a strong team. We’ll have new clients to take it and to retain, we’ll have new profits but new expenses as well, and we have a lot to learn about OR. We all know things are not always transparent in acquisitions.”

There’s a murmur of agreement as you stay silent. You’re still not sure you’re supposed to be here. You don’t have very much experience, just a certificate you got at the end of your degree. You chew your lip as you stare down the table, suddenly caught in the sights of another.

Thor’s blue eyes meet yours and his cheek dimples. You blanch and make yourself sit straight. You uncap your pen and quickly scribble in your notebook; Onyx Row. 

“Today’s strategy planning,” Thor says, “we’ll toss some ideas around until the first break, then after that, we’ll come up with a ladder.” He stacks his hands over and over as he talks, “figure out how we climb it. Step by step.”

There’s typing on keyboards. You regret not unhooking your laptop but your notebook’s just as good for notes. Tony leans backs as he chews a quiche, crumbs dusting down his jacket.

“Stark, why don’t you write something down, eh? You’re not here for a free meal.”

“That’s what you think,” Tony scoffs playfully but lets his chair snap straight and taps on his touch pad to wake up the laptop.

“Right then,” Thor stands, “I’ve a brief presentation to get us started before we start brainstorming.”

Your stomach swims. The displacement remains but at least you’re supposed to be there. Even if you’re not sure you’re the right choice. Everyone else in the room is a veteran and you’re just you. That’ll have to do.

Or maybe you’ll just show yourself to be a total noob.

🏙️

At the midpoint of the meeting, several new trays are added to the spread. It’s a lot for six people. You finally get up to grab a tea, steeping a bag of green in hot water, then take a small triangle of a tuna sandwich and a few pieces of fruit back to your seat. Despite the ice breakers round, you’re still shut out of the clique-like conversation of the others.

You don’t mind so much. Talk for business, nothing else. This is work. Besides, you’re so anxious you don’t know what you would say. You chalk it up as much to your own inaction as to their blatant exclusion.

The empty chair to your other side rolls back, frightening you as Thor sets down another plate of goodies and sits. You gulp and look at him as you quit your nibbling of the sandwich crust. You clear your throat and wipe your fingers on a napkin.

“Sir,” you greet with a cringing smile, “hi, er.”

“Thor will do,” he assures coolly, “are you enjoying the food?”

“Um, yeah,” you answer, trying to brighten up out of your cocoon, “it’s good.”

“Feel free to have more. There’s plenty to go around.”

“Thank you, that’s… I’m good,” you press your thumb to your index and bend and unbend your knuckle nervously.

“Tea?” He muses as he reaches to flick the small tap dangling from your cup.

“Mhm,” you nod awkwardly, “coffee burns my tum���stomach.”

He smiles broadly, “ah, mine too, but I’m stubborn.” He leans his elbow on the table, his chair turned to face you entirely, “are you nervous?”

Your eyes give you away as they widen at his blunt question. You dip your chin again, “a little. I… you know I only just started, right?”

“Yes, but you have your qualifications,” he insists.

“Yeah, uh, but…” you glance around at the others.

“But, I have faith in you. As I said, I picked every person in this room. You included. I know that new minds are as valuable as more experienced ones.”

“Well, er, thank you for taking a chance on me,” you bit your cheek and force a smile.

“You know, if no one had ever taken a chance on me, I might not be sat here with you right now,” he leans in just slightly, “everyone deserves their chance to prove themselves. I have faith in you, and what about you?”

“What about me?” Your cheeks wobble.

“Do you have faith in me?” He rests his chin in his hand, watching you intently.

“Y-yes, sir, uh, Thor,” you crackle out, “thanks, I…”

“Good,” he praises and sits up, “I’ll let you finish your food, if you don’t mind that I stay and do the same.”

He swivels the chair and picks up a cracker from his plate. You hum in acquiescence, barely able to muster words. The only permission he needs is your nervous reach for your tea. As if you would tell him to go. He’s the boss.

🏙️

You’re finally let free but you don’t feel as much. You have so much more to do now. You carry with you the folder handed out to each member of the room with an exhaustive overview of your session and the Onyx Road contract. 

You sit at your desk and take a moment to situate yourself. This is your priority. Everything else is second tier. That’s as much as Thor said but what are you going to do about Dawn breathing down your neck?

You fix the loose button on your cardigan that comes undone now and again, right at the worst spot; the middle. You pull the bottom straight and clear your throat, signing into your computer as you rejig back to work mode. 

As you shuffle through the emails you received in your absence, a figure approaches. You delete a redundant communication before you face them. You expect Dawn but instead, an all too familiar face looks down at you. Sitting, Thor seems to tower over you even more than usual. You feel like you should stand as he bends his neck to talk to you.

“I did forget to mention some things early. As you can expect, some details slip through the cracks in such a big project,” he spreads his hand on the corner of your desk.

“Oh, okay,” you grip the arms of your chair as you peer up at him.

“IT will be around to help connect to the shared drives required for the project,” Thor explains as he leans on one foot, hooking the other over it. “You will be dealing with some very important documents. Confidential so you will also need to relocate…” he looks around briefly, “you will be moved to a private office.”

“Uh, wow, that’s… okay,” you nod with a flutter of lashes.

“It’s a lot, I know, but you will be compensated. At special projects rate, no less,” he intones as he drags his hand up his suit jacket and curls his fingers around his lapel. His fingers are so thick. All of him is. And big. You’re getting vertigo just looking up at him. “You be in your new home by the end of the day.”

“Today?” You ask, almost breathless.

“Yes, we move fast around here,” he grins, “but I also wished to tell you that should you require any support, you will come to me. Your supervisor has been informed of your reassignment and your daily duties will be handed out to your colleagues for the duration of this project.”

“Uh huh,” you croak out, “that makes sense.”

“You understand, this is a big assignment. It could require late nights and… business trips.”

“Yes,” you lie. You really hadn’t considered that. In the contract you signed, it was for a desk, there was no travel, no overtime.

“Another matter for us to deal with. Travel pay, extra hours…” he drones as if bored.

“I understand,” you murmur.

He drops his hand to frame his hip, pushing back his jacket as he stays leaned against your desk. His eyes stick to you as they storm in mystery, “I like that sweater. It’s cute.”

You look down at the flower embroidery and your cheeks singe. Compared to him and the other execs, you were a touch underdressed. That’ll probably need to change too.

“Uh, yeah, I…” you fix the loose button again, “sorry, I’ll… I’ll buy a blazer.”

“I mean it,” he drags his hand from the desk and stands straight, “don’t buy the blazer, that suits you better.”

You crane your neck to look up at him again, “thanks, sir,” you fold your hands in your lap, “I… like your tie.”

You immediately want to disappear as the words trickle out. You sound so stupid. He touches his blue grey tie patterned with white paisley and examines it.

“Not one of my favourites, but thank you,” he chuckles. “Right,” he snaps his fingers, “much work to do. For both of us.” He shifts back on his sole, “don’t forget what I said, if you need anything, I’m your man.”

He winks and spins on his heel. You watch him go as tension raises your shoulders. That was awkward and painful. You’re already doubting your place in this whole thing. Before you can turn your chair back to your desk, you don’t miss the errant gazes in your direction. You ignore them as best you can but they sear into your back. You have witnesses to your humiliation, great.

[neiptune]

santa, boy, you're the worst

cw: 3k wc, female reader, suggestive if you squint, oliver aiku is the most infuriating idiot you know and this holiday season you unfortunately discover he just so happens to also be maddeningly soft and generous at the community centre where he volunteers as santa for children in low-income families

“Here, this is where you can get changed”, Chiyo smiles kindly as she guides you into a small room filled with dusty boxes and christmas decorations, “thank you so much for doing this, we really needed some help this year”.

“Don’t mention it, I was really hoping you’d find a spot for me”, you take off your backpack and place it on an old table, “are you absolutely sure I’m going to be fine? Eiko said I just needed a costume but I’ve never-”

“Absolutely”, she vaguely gestures with one hand, “just follow Santa’s lead. He’s the one who’s good with kids”.

“I’ll just put this on, then”, you jut your bottom lip out, still not entirely convinced. She smiles again.

“I’ll leave you to it. We’ll be in the main hall!”.

They made a new elf costume just for you. Despite Eiko having a dreadful cold being a big bummer, you’re happy a few coincidences aligned to finally allow you to make something meaningful of the time you’d usually spend home, moping underneath a billion blankets.

There are no mirrors in the room, therefore you can only hope the costume looks good enough. You feel a bit ridiculous but, apparently, the hat is mandatory.

You leave your phone in your backpack and take out all the plastic bags filled with food instead: when you called her to inquire about what you could bring, Chiyo explained that they were all set with gifts but could’ve used some additions to the buffet. You brought all the alternatives for the kids whose gluten intolerance makes it hard to enjoy yummy snacks: carrot cake, peanut butter cookies, brownies, pizza, so many quiches. The previous day was spent cooking and baking but you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

The main hall is filled with colorful christmas decorations and a table so long, filled with so much food. Chiyo spots you right away and rushes to help you carry all the bags.

“I got this, you can go help Oliver”, she efficiently starts pulling out the containers and you’re flabbergasted for a second.

“Who?”

“Santa! They already started, go, go!”, she indicates the other end of the hall, where a guy in a Santa costume sits on a chair and all around him there’s a numerous group of children on the floor, fawning over him. A giant bag filled with what you can only guess are gifts, is placed at safe distance from pouty lips and grabby hands.

You make your way to them with a big smile, only slightly tense at the corners because you only know one guy with that name but what are the chances? He’s the most insufferable person you’ve ever met. A constant flirt with anything that moves, way too confident for his own good, so unfairly attractive and quick witted. What would he even be doing here, so close to the holidays? No, it must be another Oliver.

The way Santa spots you and instantly opens his arms, warm and welcoming, tells you otherwise. Fuck. You’re now close enough to recognize eyes no one in their right mind would be able to ever forget.

“If it isn’t my favorite helper!”, his tone is jovial and deep, a perfect representation of a jolly Santa. Suddenly, so many little heads whip around to look at you.

“Hello!”, you excitedly wave, “nice to meet you, everyone!”.

“She’s not the elf from last year”, as you position yourself right behind Oliver’s chair and next to the gifts you’ll later help him distribute, a little boy furrows his brows with a slight pout. Before you can come up with something to say, Santa ho-ho-hos his way into the conversation.

“That’s exactly right, Kenji. She’s my side piece”.

You choke on your own spit. A little girl politely raises her hand and Oliver grants her permission to ask her question.

“What’s a side piece, Oli?”.

Oh, god. This is so much worse than what you could’ve anticipated.

Once more, he doesn’t allow you to reply and the grin underneath his fake beard is nothing short of infuriating.

“It’s an elf who helps when my other helpers are too busy”.

“So she’s your side elf? Is she as nice as the other?”.

He shifts in his seat and you quietly sigh, still smiling awkwardly to the children curiously checking you out, prepared for another jab.

“She’s the best”, Oliver turns to look at you with a small wink, drinking in the surprise written all over your features, “why don’t you introduce yourself, side elf? My kids are great, they’re gonna love you”.

There’s really no time to ponder over the words, how sweet they sounded. He’s only been with them for what, a few hours, and is already so protective of them? If he’s faking it, he really is one hell of an actor.

You attention soon shifts to the little, curious faces staring back at you and the thought of Oliver is pushed to the back of your mind. You’re there to make the afternoon special for those kids and you’ll give it your all, whatever it takes.

He ends up being right, they are great. So intelligent, affectionate and welcoming. You introduce yourself and it only takes a few minutes for them to accept your presence completely. There’s an odd sense of familiarity in the way they climb onto Oliver’s lap one by one, sometimes wrap their arms around his neck. They play with his silver beard as they answer questions about what they asked for christmas and he leans down to whisper secrets to their ear from time to time, to either make them laugh or put them at ease.

Some of the younger children grow restless after a while and you patiently placate small quarrels, pick up kid after kid while they wait for their turn and jokingly twirl until they’re giggling against your shoulder, the fabric of your costume squeezed by little fingers.

“Does Oli really work for Santa?”, Riko asks. She’s been in your arms for a while now and you balance her better against your chest with one arm, your other hand wrapped around Kenji’s.

“He does. We’re both in direct contact with him”, you smile.

“Do you ever go to his workshop?”.

“Sometimes we have to, yeah. Santa always gives us so many cookies and big glasses filled with milk”.

Riko hums, enraptured.

“Will I smell as good as you if I eat so many cookies and drink big glasses of milk?”.

Surprised, you fail to come up with an answer for a moment. Then you melt into a chuckle.

“But you already smell sooo good, Riko! I could eat you!”, she squeals with a laugh when you take a fake bite out of her cheek and Oliver turns to look at you both as he helps another little girl down from his knees.

“Trying to eat my kids, are you?”, he grins.

“Just this one for now”, you jokingly wink and Riko giggles once more. Kenji reclaims your attention by pulling at your hand.

“You have to do the thing”.

Lips still curled into a smile, you tilt your head to the side.

“The thing?”.

He nods, solemn.

“Oh, right”, Oliver snaps his fingers, “the thing. Let my elf go, Riko, we have to perform”.

“We have to do what now?”, as you carefully let the little girl down, Kenji slips his hand from yours.

“Santa baby”, Oliver pats his knees and, horrified, you realize it’s an invitation for you, “it’s their favorite song. We did it last year too”.

You let out a nervous laugh.

“I’m not a great performer-”

“C’mon, side elf! You gotta do it!”, Riko’s palms press to the small of your back and, as she pushes you towards an awaiting lap, you don’t have the heart to ask her to stop calling you that.

Oliver welcomes you onto his knees like you belong there, one arm instantly wrapping around your waist and the other on your thighs. He’s warm, solid underneath you. It’s the closest you’ve ever been to him and you hate that you’re suddenly tempted to pull him even closer.

“No one told me about this”, you murmur between gritted teeth, tense smile causing a low chuckle to vibrate in his chest.   

“You’ll be fine”, the hand resting on your hip gives it a light, playful squeeze, “it’s acapella, by the way. Give it your all”.

You’re still smiling but fail to entirely conceal the glare as you try to position yourself better against him. Whether he does it istinctively or not, Oliver tightens his hold around your waist.

All chatter stops and, between hushed but still excited whispers coming from the group sitting at your feet, you start humming the familiar tune.

“Santa baby, just slip a sable under the tree for me. Been an awful good girl”, you briefly turn to the kids and give them an exaggerated wink that makes them laugh, “Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight!”, you twirl part of Oliver’s fake beard around your pointer finger and when you meet his gaze, it’s surprising how serious it is. Time to get up, for your own sanity.

While he is supposed to keep up the act and match both your goofy tone and exaggerated motions to make the song playful and appropriate for children, he just keeps looking back at you with something unreadable in those dangerous eyes of his.

“Think of all the fun I missed!”, you dramatically drop to your knees and grab his arm, “think of all the fellas that I haven’t kissed!”, he finally seems to be shaken from his weird stupor and gasps loudly, looking back and forth between you and the giggling audience.

“Next year I could be just as good, if you check off my christmas list?”, you pout as Oliver shakes his head no, feigning disappointment. A few kids whine in fake sadness.

“I want a yacht and really that’s not a lot… right?”, you beg for their approval and it makes you chuckle that they erupt in agreeing cheers right away, “been an angel all year!”.

“Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight”, with a deep sigh, you desperately squeeze his hand for a moment before getting up once more and continuing your performance around the audience with a skip in your step, hands behind your back as you sway and twirl around them.

“Please help me ask him, everyone!”, you implore, “so hurry down the chimney tonight”. They do join you in your plea, to which Oliver audibly slaps a hand to his forehead.

“Hurry down the chimney tonight”, you slowly approach his chair once more and the playfulness in his stare seems to vanish once more, fingers twitching on knees you don’t sit on, “hurry, tonight”, with a small smile, you twirl one last time and then bow deeply as the audience immediately starts clapping at the end of your performance.

“Oli, I want a yacht”, Riko pouts and her sister next to her giggles.

“I’ll see what I can do, sweetheart”, he smiles, then looks at you once more, “wanna help me give out this year’s gifts? Maybe we’ll find a yacht somewhere”.

He doesn’t even get to finish the question: in a matter of seconds, you’re both surrounded by exuberant little kids who are way too excited to find out what Santa’s helpers have in store for them this holiday season. The youngest of the group, six year old Tsumugi, raises her little arms and Oliver bends down to pick her up, balancing her on his leg.

You didn’t think the community centre would be able to put together enough funds to get… all those presents. There are so much. Enough for each child to get three or four. Clothes, audio book players, lego sets, tablets, dolls, water marbling kits, headphones, books. An entire, separate bag is filled with signed soccer uniforms. You discreetly glance at Oliver, busy helping Hiro unwrap his third present.

You remember very few details about the blue lock project, from which some of the current top players of the globe suddenly came out years ago. You know he was part of it at some point and of course you remember his past as captain of the former U-20 team. Oliver is still one of the best known soccer players in Japan and clearly he is friends with those guys. But the fact that he went out of his way to make sure he had all those uniforms for these kids, stirs something in your chest.

As you hand out the shirts, little squeals make you smile.

“Riko, this one’s from Nagi”, the little girl practically snatches it from your hand, “wait, don’t push, there’s one for each of you! Who asked for the Kaiser one?”.

“Oli, will you keep your promise next year?”, Tsumugi, still in his lap, rests her head on his shoulder as she hugs a new teddy bear to her chest. He hums, one hand rising to boop her nose.

“You have my word, sweet girl. I told Yoichi you wanted to meet him and he was so sad he couldn’t make it today. He promised he’ll come next time”.

“Look what he sent you”, with a grin, you hand her the shirt Isagi signed for her. The way her eyes light up makes you wish for Eiko to be sick once more, the following year.

It’s the evening when parents slowly start arriving to collect their kids and thank everyone for the organization. You and Chiyo welcome them by the door and offer warm cups of tea. Those who are not in a rush are more than welcome to eat something despite the buffet having been more or less devoured by now.

As soon as you’re alone with Chiyo once more, the last remaining parents shaking hands with Oliver as they say goodbye, you deflate in a chair. Your legs hurt, you didn’t eat anything and you feel so tired but also immensely rewarded.

“It was fun, wasn’t it?”, with a smile, Chiyo pushes a water bottle towards you.

“So fun. You were right, he’s good with kids. Remembered all their names and everything”.

She chuckles.

“Well, I’d hope so. He comes every year”.

You stare back.

“Every year?”.

“Yeah, since forever. And he always gets so many extra presents for them, never accepted a single yen back”.

You sip on your water, unable to come up with something to say. Oliver Aiku, the same unbearably smug idiot who’d pissed you off endlessly each time you had the unfortunate chance of meeting him thanks to your cousin Shuto, seemed so different today. Patient, caring, attentive, fun. So generous.

You watch as parents bow to him and he bows back, ruffles their kid’s hair, laughs when Tsugumi hugs his legs. This is not good, not good at all, judging by the way your heart fumbles in your chest as he meets your gaze from across the room.

The elf costume is shoved into your backpack but the drawings and notes some of the kids made for you are placed on the table right next to it as you put on your coat. You’ll keep them in your hand, against your chest and underneath the warm fabric if you must, in case it’s still snowing outside. You’d hate for anything to happen to such precious cargo.

“You know, Riko has a point”, the gravelly voice so close to your ear makes you jump, “you really do smell good”.

“Try taking a shower”, your intention is to turn around with a scowl but the second you do, your back is pressed to the table as he leans forward and rests his palms on the rough surface. The sharp inhale you take makes him smile.

“Nah, I think it’s really just you”.

You stare back for a moment, then clear your throat, trying your best to not appear intimidated.

“Who knew you were so good with kids. They love you”.

Oliver pulls back, leaving you enough space to put a safe distance between your bodies.

“Well, who knew you were such a great cook. How long did it take to make all that food?”.

Much to your irritation, a smile threatens to appear on your lips. He deflects when complimented? Fuck. Off.

Your mind traces back to how protective he was of them. My kids. It’s sickening, really.

“You didn’t eat anything all day”, the softer tone catches him off guard for just a second, “take some leftovers”.

Oliver hums, something flashing across his features so quickly you may have imagined it. Then, he starts unbuttoning the red velvet jacket he’s still in.

“Don’t be so thoughtful, it’ll make me hard”.

Astonished, you look at him.

“What are you doing?”

He discards the jacket with a grin, hat and fake beard already discarded before entering the changing room.

“You didn’t think I’d leave in this, right?”.

“You could’ve waited until I left the room”.

Oliver rubs his chin in exasperating, fake pensiveness.

“Yeah, I could’ve”, his signature smirk makes you want to punch him in his handsome face, “but there’s this girl I like. Maybe if I impress her, she’ll finally give me a chance”.

You chalk the heat rising to your cheeks up to the thermostat temperature being too high. When you murmur a confused, hasty goodbye and attempt to make your leave, drawings safely tucked underneath one arm, Oliver gently wraps a hand around your wrist.

“It’s snowing. Let me give you a ride”, the way his thumb tentatively grazes the sliver of skin underneath your sleeve makes you shudder. He does it again, intentional, serious eyes boring into yours to make sure he's not crossing a boundary. Your mouth feels dry.

“Wait for me?”, Oliver offers, gentle. There’s no trace of his previous teasing and you’re painfully aware of how long the silence is stretching for, a weird vibration to the moment laced in your aching hesitation.

Another beat passes before you relax under his touch.

“I’ll be outside”.