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alexiroflife · 11 months ago

Text

"please"

MDNI, very suggestive content

Synopsis: you and choso keep warm as a snowstorm swarms the city

to sum it up: you have sex together for the first time and both love the word 'please'

WC: 7,077

Warning(s): SMUT, all of it smut

There had always been something about snowstorms, the way they ushered people indoors and howled against the windows angrily, creaking the floorboards and coating the world outside in a smooth blanket of white.

You had always thoroughly enjoyed them, watching with childlike wonder from inside your room as flurries of ice rushed into view, blowing about the gray air in a frenzy. You liked the way it inspired warmth within your home and brought people together, how a mug of hot chocolate tickled your palms with its heat, sending shivers down your spine as your backyard froze over.

Your boyfriend, Choso, had never gotten the privilege to experience a snowstorm in full flux. You had been excited for him to witness it with you for the first time and prepared the essentials, sparking the fireplace, fixing hot beverages, and putting on soft music that played softly in the background. While you were captured by the weather as the two of you sat on your shared sofa, you in his lap and a heavy blanket wrapped around both of your bodies, the brunette was far more interested in what was transpiring within the room.

His fingers tapped and traced against your thigh, heavy eyes gazing up at you as you rambled on to him about how beautiful the snow looked from there, swirling and dancing about as though it had a mind of its own. He would hum every now and then to show that you had his attention, but he couldn’t deny that he was far more intrigued by you, not by the weather. Not in the slightest.

Jade eyes danced over the movement of your jaw, the occasional pull and part of your soft lips as you spoke. His eyes glazed over, catching each spec of dampness that coated the ridges in your lips as you lifted your mug to your mouth. He studied the way your throat moved as you cautiously drank in the warm liquid, hands cupped gingerly around the ceramic piece, then the way your tongue slid slowly over your top lip to gather the sweetness from the rim of your mouth, pursing your lips inward.

“Cho?”

Your perfect voice sank into his mind as he dragged his eyes away from your mouth to meet yours, pupils blown wide and cheeks dusted with pink from both his recovery from stepping outside and the impact of your contact. You touched the nape of his neck gently, setting your cup down to turn to face him as his hand slid up your back, keeping you upright and close to him, oh so close.

“You okay? You still cold?”

How could he be cold within the embrace of your heat? So enticing, so whole, so full of you. There was no way for him to have been cold as long as he was by your side, heart bursting into flames at the very slightest touch of your fingers. He looked at your slightly concerned face and flustered, still somehow nervous under your gaze though you had been together for close to a month now.

He was prepared to tell you that he was fine when your other hand slid over the curve of his cheekbone to hold his cheek in your palm. His lashes fluttered and he hummed, addicted to you. “A little,” he ended up saying shamelessly, eager for you to press yourself further into him so that he could practically suffocate at your will.

You made a small noise that sounded like a coo and curled impossibly closer into him, wrapping your other arm tighter around his neck as your hand on his cheek brought him up to your lips. Choso melted, allowing you to guide him into your tenderness without hesitation. Your lips met his softly, deftly, and he practically sighed, taken completely by all of you.

“Sorry love,” you whispered against him, kissing softly at the corner of his mouth. “I’ll turn up the heat more.”

The half curse’s eyes almost went wide when he felt you try to move against him. “No,” he stopped you before you could even think of setting a foot to the ground, your legs being held tighter to your boyfriend. You looked at him curiously. “I’m sorry, no, I’m okay. Don’t go anywhere.”

You giggled lightly, understanding. “Okay,” you smiled, kissing him gently again.

Choso relaxed against you, comforted by the fact that he knew you weren’t leaving him. When you moved to pull away from his lips for a second time, Choso was selfishly pressing them back in, fingers digging into the soft fluff of your pajama pants as he kissed you fervently.

You loved kissing your boyfriend. He was always so sweet and needy with the way he kissed, shyly bumping his lips against yours in a peck before breaking away to press in the smallest bit harder, succumbing to the taste of you and regaining a sense of confidence alongside the building desire in his gut. He liked you practically on top of him when he kissed you, hovering over him as he tilted his head to follow your mouth as you straddled his lap, caging him beneath the softness of your face, of your gaze, of your heavenly mouth.

You held his face to yours, the soft symphony of lips smacking rumbling beneath the crackle of the flame before you, providing the only source of dim, delicate light within your living room. The wind proceeded to knock against the window as your legs surrounded Choso’s thighs, his large hands hoisting you up over him and keeping your waist secure, connected. Making out heatedly was the farthest you and Choso had ever gone in regard to your intimate lives, but the way your boyfriend was desperately pressing up into you with an involuntarily buck of his hips toward your crotch, you could tell that there was something more he wanted. That both of you wanted.

You broke away from him slowly to catch his eyes, both pairs sunken with desire. His brows were knitted together desperately, lips parted as he breathed heavily into you and watched you closely, cheeks flustered. “What is it baby?” your voice asked out breathlessly, lips still brushing over his, his head twitching beneath you.

Choso dragged his hands along your legs, from your knees up to your thighs over the fabric of your soft plaid pants. A look of slight embarrassment crossed his face as he looked at you, eager yet unsure of how to express so. “I want…” he started in a weighted exhale, chest falling heavily as you danced your fingers over his neck and his chest. He looked down then back up, distracted yet captured by you, all of you. “I want to feel you,” he sighed.

You could feel something harden against the inside of your thigh the moment the words left him and manifested into reality. Your heart jumped as you studied him, the way his lips twitched slowly when he felt the very same movement below. He looked down again as though pained, sliding his hands to grasp your hips and strained a soft groan.

“S-Sorry,” he grumbled. “I just think… I want you so badly right now,” he confessed earnestly, glancing back up at you sheepishly, your heart palpitating at the adorable sight. “Is that alright?”

God, Choso was so sweet, asking for permission as though you hadn’t already sworn that you were his and his to take whenever either of you were ready. The air around you thickened as the fire glowed warmly against the side of your faces, enhancing the needy gleam in his eyes as he stared up at you, anxiously, lustfully.

“You want me how?”

The pads of his fingers squeezed your hips every now and then as he awaited you, trying so hard to be patient and gauge what you were thinking, what you wanted.

“I want to have sex with you,” his deep voice rumbled out, and you were already aching for him at the thought. While this wasn’t something unexpected to you, you understood that taking your relationship to the next level was a big deal for the both of you.

“Are you sure?” you asked, though you knew that you wanted it so badly. You wanted to show him how much you loved him, to feel him against you in every sense of the word.

You could see your boyfriend falter slightly, doubting himself when you questioned him as though he hadn’t been more sure of anything in his entire life. The light in Choso’s eyes flickered as he nodded rather certainly, pressing his soft lips together.

“Do you want to?”

His question came out so innocently, eyes searching yours in earnest, and you melt for him. “Of course I do, Cho. I love you so much.”

He trembled, hands freezing on your hips. “I love you too,” he murmured, a sudden vibrance in his low tone. He leaned up slightly, seeking your lips again. “I’ve wanted you for so long, (Y/n), please. I’ve been wanting to make you feel good for so long,” he confessed.

Your gut swarmed into a mass of butterflies as he kissed you again, eager for a chance to taste you over and over again until nothing but you was left for him to think of for the rest of time. You fell into him, looping your arms around him and massaging your lips into his slowly, each languid motion of your lips swimming against each other’s dragging out sensually. Choso’s body shivered against you with anticipation, digging his fingers into the skin that poked out under your sweater.

It was mind numbing the way his palms touched over your bare sides, carefully, lovingly.

You gently swiped your tongue over his bottom lip and his hips jerked again, blood, normally under his manipulation, rushing to print into his sweats and against your skin. He parted his lips, welcoming the touch of your tongue against his.

Your wet muscles tangoed together languidly, pushing and swirling over the other, searching for the taste of your warm, wet caverns. The sound of Choso grunting against you spurred you on, your hips pushing eagerly up against his. The brunette’s brows furrowed, the sugary chocolate taste of you from your cocoa smothering him in arousal.

You had him in the palm of your hands wrapped tightly around your finger. He would have done anything for you if you’d asked him if it meant he was gifted the chance of loving you, of touching you, of massaging his tongue into your mouth and drawing out precious soft moans that complemented the groans building in his throat, of smoothing his unsteady hands over the fat of your bum and pushing you up into him to meet the third buck of his hips. You could have done anything to him, and he would have thanked you, thrusting up into the heat of your thighs as your hands ran over his face.

You pulled away to duck your head gracefully, lips meeting just under his jaw in a feather light peck. Choso’s breath hitched in his throat, his chin tilting back subconsciously as your mouth melted over his throat, the affectionate graze of your lips and tongue sending his body into flames. You knew exactly how to work him up without even going farther than kissing him, pressing your chest to his and curling your fingers into the roots of his hair.

Your kisses marked over his neck and swam down to his collarbone, pressing with such love and care as though you were taking all the time in the world to appreciate him. “Take off your shirt for me, Cho,” you leaned into his ear to tell him, each motion you took and word you spoke making his head spin with their angelic, yet seductive tone. He didn’t even fix his mouth to say anything before he was already reaching down to tug his shirt over his head with the help of your soft hands.

You watched as he peeled the fabric over his head, pale abdominals flexing deliciously as his elbows rose up and his shirt caught over his face. He finally popped his head from, dropping the shirt onto the floor beside him and relocking his eyes with yours, seeking your next request. You ran your hands slowly over his skin, detailing each bump and scar over his enormous pecs and all the way down to his well defined v-line teasing out of his pants. Choso watched the trek of your pretty hands intensely, inhaling slowly and sharply through his nose as they traveled lower and lower.

You unwrapped your legs from around his waist to scoot yourself back, leaning down to kiss softly across the milky skin of his chest. He jerked beneath you, sucking in a breath. “Relax, baby,” you murmured, and he obeyed.

Choso didn’t like the fact that you were climbing off of him, but once he saw where you were headed, his mind went fuzzy. You reached down to the waistband of his sweatpants, tugging slowly with your lips to his abdomen, revealing the tent poking angrily against his boxers. His eyes went wide, heart racing in his chest and hand hesitantly reaching down to you.

“(Y/n), you don’t have to-”

“Shhh,” you shushed him. You dotted kisses to the outside of his underwear’s fabric, sweatpants pooling around his knees now. You glanced up over your lashes to catch the beautiful sight of your boyfriend staring down at you through heavy lids and sharp violet eyes over his nose, brown locks sweeping handsomely over his forehead and around his shoulders. “Is this okay?” you asked in a murmur, lips ghosting over the bulge of his throbbing dick. You puckered your lips softly over his print and he reached to grip the side of the sofa, grinding his teeth together and jutting his hips toward your nose.

“F-Fuck,” he hissed out, nodding rapidly. “Yeah… yeah, that’s more than okay.”

That was all you needed to hear before you were hooking your finger into his boxers and lazily, watching with unwavering focus as his happy trail unveiled itself just seconds before his pretty cock was springing free and slapping up against his stomach. Choso winced, desperately holding back a moan as you helped him tug off the rest of his lower garments.

His eyes were trained on you as though he would die if he looked away, your lips teasingly meeting the skin surrounding his shaft before they touched it gently. He whimpered, moving to slap his hand over his mouth to prevent himself from making any further noise. You hummed against him, sliding your lips up to his angry red tip, already oozing dots of precum as you hovered over him. You eased your tongue over it, wrapping your lips after to suck the inch of liquid away with a pop.

“Hah-” Choso gasped, muscles tensing and flexing beneath you in pleasure. He wanted more, more of your lips, more of your tongue on his aching length. You looked so gorgeous, wrapping your fingers around his base with your eyes glued to his, watching each reaction you pulled out of him when you licked a long stripe along the side of his long, veiny dick, so heavy in your hand. “(Y/n),” he sighed raggedly, biting onto the back of his knuckle with curled brows. He needed you so badly, it was beginning to hurt. “Please, please keep going.”

“I’ve got you, baby,” you reminded him, and he was whimpering, tension easing away as your other hand smoothed over his beefy thigh, lips circling to finally capture the whole of his leaking to tip in your mouth. Choso choked on a strained sigh, hips bucking once more involuntarily, jolting the upper half of his length further into your mouth accidentally.

“Shit, I’m sorry, m’sorry,” he breathed. “Just felt so- so g-”

He couldn’t even finish his sentence when your hand started stroking up and down over the base of his cock, rotating in a painfully slow, circular motion while your tongue swirled over his tip, lips sucking around his girth gently. Choso moaned, a long, shredded, deep sound that sent a throb straight to your clit. You immediately determined that this sound he released was the most astounding thing you had ever heard in your life and continued with your mouth’s movements, bobbing your head to take him into the drooling, heated pool of your mouth.

“Baby,” he groaned, eyes fluttering as he lowered his knuckles from his mouth to place his hand atop your head, smoothing affectionately over your hair as you hollowed your cheeks and sucked him off. The sound of your slurps hit Choso’s ears as you hand continued to rub his length, squeezing your hand around him ever so gently before wrapping the other hand around just above, synchronizing the strokes in opposite directions.

Choso’s jaw fell open, hot shallow breaths escaping his parted lips while he watched you, your head ducking to take more of him as his tip slid against the warm silkiness of the roof of your mouth repeatedly. He had fallen in love with the feeling of your lips and the touch of your hands long ago, but as both swallowed the whole of his twitching length while your hums of satisfaction vibrated against his sensitive cock, he was falling in love all over again.

He squirmed beneath you, broken moans and whines spilling past his lips, unable to tear his eyes away from the gorgeous sight of slobber spilling down his girth and smearing over your lips from your mouth, yet his eyelids proceeded to weigh lower over his jaded irises, breath pattern growing uneven.

“Baby, please,” he murmured, voice pitching into a warbled whimper. You picked up your pace, bobbing up and down faster and slurping him into you as though he was your last meal. It was disgusting, the way his precum leaked into your spit and dribbled down your chin, dripping onto his balls and soaking the couch, though the loving stroke of his hand over your head contrasted the sloppiness. His hips bucked again, slowly pushing to meet the bob of your head so that he was gently fucking your throat. He moaned out loudly, his head falling back and eyes falling shut, Adam’s apple bouncing. He was completely lost in pleasure, conquered by your beautiful lips sucking prettily over his cock.

“Please, please, please, ah, f-fuck, keep- ngh- going baby. Please, it’s so- so good…”

He was so mouthy. You absolutely loved every bit of it. You could feel him twitching inside you, signifying that he was already close to finishing. You moaned around him sweetly, tucking your head and pushing forward to take all of him to the back of your throat, hands pressing against his sides to give your mouth room. You were overzealous, taking for more than you were capable of, but you wanted to see Choso’s eyes roll into the back of his head. You wanted to hear those gorgeous moans roll from his tongue, you wanted to taste all of his perfect cock, sliding in and out of your throat until you were choking.

“Ahhh, fuckkk! babyyy, fuck, oh my fucking godddd,” he whined, a mess of himself as he pathetically humped into you.

Your own eyes rolled into your head as you bobbed rapidly over him, tip hitting to the back of your throat with sinful plunging sounds. You were whining into him as he groaned out, writhing beneath you as his balls tightened. You felt his hand still upon you, grasping gently into your hair. His head lifted suddenly again to catch the vision of you, eyes watery and lips drenched over his dick; a sight to behold. “Y’so- so pretty, baby, please- fuck, I can’t- feels so good, so gooddd-“

It didn’t take long for him to snap, plunging your head downward and stilling in your throat, hot ropes of his cum decorating the inside of your mouth as he moaned, eyes dazed and rolling backward, voiced gasps heaving from his chest.

You took it all, swallowing generously as his cum trickled down your throat and spilled from the sides of your mouth. His body went limp beneath you, grip in your hair loosening as you sat up and popped his length from your mouth. You gazed down at him as his thumb reached to swipe away streaks of cum from your chin.

He was coated in a shiny layer of sweat and his brown hair stuck to his flushed skin, chest expanding and toned muscles gleaming in the firelight and afterglow of his orgasm. “Baby,” he whispered and you smiled softly, lifting up to straddle him again and wrap him into your arms, his own following and winding around you sleepily, securing you to his bare body.

He tucked his nose into the crook of your neck as he held you, struggling to adjust to reality once more as he continued to recover from the finish you gave him. “You okay? I didn’t mean to grab you like that,” he muttered with a hush into your skin, melting his hands beneath your sweater and up your back as he savored you against him, closing his eyes and breathing you in.

“Don’t worry, baby, I liked it,” you whispered to him, and you could feel him sigh in relief against you.

“Good, because you made me feel… amazing,” he praised gently. “I love your mouth. Love your hands so much, so so much. Felt so good…”

He was kissing your neck, then your cheek, and pulling back to kiss your swollen lips, tasting a hint of himself lingering on your tongue.

“You take your shirt off now. It’s your turn,” he said tenderly, raising it over your hand from inside of the fabric.

The brown haired man looked down over your bare torso, your perfect tits sitting upright over your smooth stomach, (s/c) skin capturing the fire light enchantingly. You flushed under his gaze, his purple eyes roaming every inch of your figure with swelling ardor.

“Let me see you, beautiful,” he pleaded, stroking over the plush of your shoulder then down, over your chest and grazing at your hardened nipple. You flinched and he looked up in a panic.

“Sorry-“

“No, Cho, it’s okay,” you reassured him, grabbing his wrists and guiding his hands to cup your breasts within his palms. “Just sensitive… but it feels nice when your hands are on them.”

He soaked in the sight, the feeling, hands curving around the plush fat, groping them experimentally within his large palms. You let out a weak sigh, lips parting and back arching slightly. The brunette caught the reaction with haste, heart skipping a beat. “Like this?” he rolled his thumb lightly over one of your nipples and you shuddered.

“Y-Yes, just like that.”

The brunette snatched your response as a means to continue eagerly. He moved to hold your back as he adjusted the both of you, laying you back on the end of the couch as he climbed over top of you with your legs still hooked around his torso, settling you onto the soft cushions with ease. You looked bashfully up at him, the confidence you had moments ago when sucking his dick fading surprisingly fast as he caged over you, his large frame trapping you beneath his. You felt vulnerable like this, lying beneath your boyfriend with your tits out, but you wouldn’t have had it any other way with any other person.

Choso’s sweat-dampened hands reached back over your tits, squeezing them generously as he watched the plush fat jiggle like fluid within his grasp. He was mesmerized, captivated by your body. “So pretty,” he marveled to himself, running his tongue over his damp lips hungrily. He glanced up at you to ensure that he was still in the clear, your dizzy (e/c) eyes granting him all the permission in the world.

There was no stopping him now. He had your beautiful body to explore, to please, to worship. There was nothing on this planet that would have been able to pull him away from you.

The brunette ducked down in a similar fashion you had earlier when you kissed his chest, and took the whole of your nipple into his mouth, sucking graciously. Your back arched, chest curving forward and into his jaw. He groaned, gripping your tit tighter and lapping hungrily at your bud. You writhed in response to the sensation, the sensitivity in your nipples heightening the more Choso took advantage. You reached your hands out to the sides of his face, holding him as he pressed his groin down into your crotch, securing your body with his length pressed into you, twitching.

“Ngh- Cho,” you gasped, head tilting backward. Your boyfriend knew he was doing something right when your head moved the exact same way he did when you were sucking him off.

Choso closed his eyes with you, relishing in his bliss as he released your nipple to move over to the other one. He kissed the skin passionately, sucking bruises all over your breasts, guided by his lust for the taste of your skin. Your tits were perfect, soft and malleable at his will. He would have died like this if he could.

He lifted his head to kiss your cheek, then your forehead, then nose and mouth and chin. “Perfect,” he exhaled in between kisses. “You’re perfect, so perfect, (Y/n),” he babbled nonsensically, ducking back down to your chest then slowly traveling down your stomach, lips finding any piece of skin he possibly could.

When he reached your pants, he kissed along the fat of your thigh through the fabric, greedy to feel more, to see more, to taste more of the girl he knew to be the very love of his life.. You squeaked as the purple eyed man climbed off of the couch and crouched down at the side of it, tugging you carefully toward him by the hem of your pants. He lowered himself down to his knees, your upper back now propped up against the couch’s vertical cushions.

Choso looked up at you lovingly as he moved to tug your pants down your legs. His eyes flickered down at the motion, you helping him by shimmying out of the article of clothing. He studied the manner in which the fabric peeled down the plush of your soft thighs, teasingly revealing her skin to him.

He took a moment to take in the sight of your bare body and the lace pair of black panties that adorned her bottom half. A weighted, eager breath escaped his lips as he pushed your thighs open slowly, smoothing his lips sluggishly over your inner thighs. He could smell you all over him, and the arousal seeping from your cunt and soaking your underwear.

Choso was losing his mind.

He gradually made his way further toward your clothed heat, elongating the process so that he could absorb as much of you as he possibly could on his own time. The tip of his nose brushed over the lace that stretched over your skin, pecking lightly over where your clit happened to be located.

He knew that he had hit some sort of target when your legs jolted around him. “Is that sensitive too?” he asked and you nodded, breathlessly.

“Yeah, baby, right there,” you affirmed, and something possessive spurring within him had him swiftly dragging your panties off to see more.

A sting of arousal stretched as he shed you of your underwear, leading him to fixate his gaze upon your glistening entrance. He practically salivated, digging his fingers into the outside of her thighs whilst his elbows rested beneath them. He tugged you close so that his breath fanned over your wet pussy. “Gorgeous,” he praised again.

He ducked back down, fingers sinking into the plump flesh of your thighs, and flattened his tongue at the base of her lips experimentally, dragging it slowly along her lips and gathering her wetness on his warm tongue.

God. You tasted amazing.

You mewled out and Choso watched you intently from between your legs, the taste of you so sweet in his mouth. A low, satisfied groan rumbled through his chest and he dove back in with sudden urgency. Your hands flew to his soft brown tangles, gripping tightly as his tongue swirled around your pussy slowly.

“Oh my god,” you moaned, eyes fluttering shut as your body surrendered itself to bliss. Choso grunted, his own eyes closing as he licked you out passionately, skin setting itself ablaze as he devoured your fruit with the same intensity that you had taken with him. “Cho, baby, yes,” you begged, fistfuls of his hair scrunched within your fists.

If your words weren’t enough to keep him going, the way you tugged at his hair sent his body into overdrive. Pathetic moans flew from your mouth, leading the half curse to tighten his hold around you and secure your lower half to his face.

His tongue lapped hungrily at your throbbing cunt while his lips smoothed over your clit, sucking you into the heat of his mouth as he took dominance over your weakness. Your legs squirmed around his head, ankles locking over his shoulders and around his neck. He was suffocated by you, happily, both restricting himself and you from escaping.

He was so good at this.

His pace suddenly quickened, tongue darting in and out of your walls as he switched between motions. The sinful sound of slurping echoed throughout your living space, your moans picking up volume along with it.

Choso glided his tongue from your core to the bundle of nerves above it, kissing it gently before taking it between his lips and sucking. You cried out, grip tightening on his hair to the point where it had begun to cause pain, but the pain only made Choso’s dick harder as he sucked graciously onto your delicious clit. He couldn’t get enough.

You started to try to squirm away, for the sensation had begun to prove to be too much. Your legs shivered and your fingers tugged wildly at Choso’s hair. The pale skinned man groaned helplessly in desperate opposition, locking his fingers together over your abdomen so that you could no longer move around. “Please don’t go, baby,” he murmured, muffled by your dripping pussy around his lip. “You taste so good, need to keep tasting you.” The motions of his tongue continued, faster, adding more pressure.

“Fuck, feels so good, Cho,” you exclaimed mindlessly, voice straining into a high-pitched moan.

Choso proceeded faster, gluttonous for your juices and for the sound of his name from your mouth.

You arched yourself further into him, chasing the approach of your incoming high. “‘M ‘so close,” you whined, thighs tightening around his head. “St-Stick a finger inside, baby. Please. Please.”

Choso moaned into you, desperate to oblige to make you feel good because of him. He released one of his hands to creep it back under your thigh. He focused his mouth’s attention solely on your clit while his middle finger slipped past your folds and into the warmth of your dripping cunt. You cried as Choso started at a slow pace, thrusting his finger in and out, a squelching sound accompanying the slurp of his tongue over your messy cunt.

His fingers quickly matched the pace of his tongue, pistoning in and out with remarkable speed. He could feel your slick coating his fingers as your walls quivered around them, unable to hold on much longer.

“Do it, beautiful, please,” he begged, groaning as your pussy bumped to ride against him.

A tingling sensation rose in your lower abdomen as your high came crashing down suddenly. Your grip in Choso’s hair went taut and your legs locked around his head, hips grinding into his face and his now two fingers. Choso furrowed his brows, riding you through his climax as slick dribbled onto his palm and down your thighs onto the couch.

Choso had no intention of stopping even after your orgasm had occurred. His mind had become a puddle, his mouth slurping up your sticky, creamy arousal without a moment’s break. He was obsessed with you, with your pussy, with how it soaked his chin and his fingers and the floor. He couldn’t stop, hungrier than he had been before, nothing but the intoxicating taste of your cunt occupying his head. He snapped his fingers from inside of you and gripped your thighs again, pushing them upward so that your knees dangled by her ears.

“Just let me get a little bit more, sweetheart,” he whispered headedly against your pussy. “So pretty, you taste so good, can’t stop yet. Not yet, please.”

You sobbed, releasing his hair to push at his head, but Choso was a man on a mission. He was enamored by the taste of you, completely whipped by the way your cunt responded to his mouth. Your helpless pussy continued to leak arousal, smearing his face and drooling into the puddle beneath you. His tongue moved faster, and faster, lapping you up for everything you were worth.

Your toes curled and your clit throbbed from overstimulation, tears pooling into the corners of her eyes. Your moans had transitioned into desperate pleas and ragged, messy wails. It drove Choso insane.

“Too much! M’gonna cum again- AH!”

The entire bottom half of your body was shaking, legs soaked, but Choso didn’t care. He wanted to keep hearing you cry for him. He was addicted, starving.

He proceeded his torture, the melodious symphony of your begs filling his ears. He shuddered, dragging his tongue from your sopping entrance back up to your clit in rapid circles. His grip on your thighs was sure to leave marks, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was your pussy in his mouth, responding to him at his will.You were so good, so delicious.

He couldn’t stop.

Tears streamed down your cheeks, a knot building in your stomach along with a foreign urge to pee. You tried once more to scramble away, but Choso’s incredible strength left you completely stuck.

“Choso!” you cried, and with that, you came once again, a stream of liquid flying from your core the moment Choso finally broke away. His chin and neck were sprayed with your squirt, his eyes watching in a trance as it sprouted out and onto his skin. You twitched uncontrollably, tensing until you collapsed back into the cushions, completely spent.

The brunette stood quickly, climbing back over top of you and maneuvering you to lay back once more. “(Y/n)?” he called out, caressing your damp skin and looking over you with worried eyes. You hummed in a trance, peeling your blurry eyes back open to see your boyfriend hovering over you again, his chest and chin dripping with your slick over his flushed skin. “Are you okay? I’m sorry, I got carried away. You just tasted so good, baby, I’m sorry,” he apologized nonsensically and you shook your head, smiling gently and reaching for his shoulders. He ducked down for you, allowing your hands to grasp around his neck. He swiped the back of his hand over his chin, eying you worriedly.

“That felt amazing, Cho,” you told him softly, watching the concern melt away to be replaced by bashful pride and longing. “I’ve never felt like that before.”

He cradled your arm to lower it and bring your hand to his lips in a soft kiss. “Really?” his eyes gleamed and you nodded.

“C’mere,” you tugged at him, and he was pressed into you without a second to spare. His lips were hot, the strong scent of you consuming your senses as he kissed you tenderly, smoothing over the aches in your legs and guiding them back around his waist, arms caging either side of your head as your fingers tickled the side of his jaw.

Below, you felt his still hardened length brush against your clit and you jumped, breaking away to look down. Choso caught your gaze and smoothed a hand over your face. “We can stop if you’re tired,” he said to you. “You’ve already done so much.”

You shook your head, holding him close and kissing against his temple. “No,” you denied. “Want you inside me now, Cho.”

How much more sexy could you possibly get?

Choso’s heart was pounding once more, dick jumping in reaction to your words. Violet hues sank into yours as he asked again. “You’re positive, baby?”

“Yes,” you exhaled, kissing the outside of his ear and nuzzling your nose against his skin. “Please.”

You were going to kill him one of these days, he was sure.

He groaned softly, holding your gaze when you pulled back to look at him, eye contact deep enough to cast a peek into the array of stars and galaxies above. You reached your hand down, holding his stare, and gently wrapped your fingers around his dick. His lips parted as you stroked softly, before guiding him toward you. He helped, cradling his weighted cock and aiming it toward your drenched hole, smearing the tip past your lips to find it.

“Oh god,” he sighed. You were so slippery, so welcoming. His eyes bored into yours when he found it, pressing and sliding inside, sheathing his girthy cock into your slick coated heat gradually. You gripped his shoulders tightly, feeling the way his length stretched the walls of your pussy so drastically. You gritted your teeth together, pressing your forehead against Choso’s as he leaned his against yours, harsh breaths meeting each other’s. He trained his eyes on the scene below, his fat cock sinking into your folds, your slick gathering around his shaft the moment he bottomed out.

You moaned out together, pressing in close and entangling your limbs. Choso slammed his lips into yours sloppily, stilling the second he was fully inside of you. “You’re so tight, baby-ngh- hah-!” he exhaled against your lips.

You clenched around him, adjusting to his mass as you swallowed him into you. “Cho-s’big,” you murmured, your words babbling into nonsense.

“Gonna move now,” he warned you, sliding back out slowly, the veins in his pretty cock dragging against your walls. “Gonna- fuckkkk,” he was already pushing back into you, a singular squelch resounding from your connection. “Oh, baby,” he whimpered. “So goodddd.”

“Cho,” you whined, clawing at his toned back. “Keep moving, Cho, I need it. I need you so bad, please fuck me, baby.”

“‘Kay, baby, okay. I’ll t-take it slow, I’ll- mmm… shit…”

He slid back out of you and plunged in again, dragging the motion out so you could feel every inch of him press into you. You moaned, muscles in your face releasing as pleasure overcame your expression, Choso’s hand gripping your waist tightly as he set an uneven, perfect, languid pace. Your heels dug into his lower back, knees bumping against his sides as he thrusted carefully into you, holding you as though you were a piece of glass he was afraid to watch break. You were a mess beneath him, mewling and murmuring nonsense as his loud breaths came down over you, his hair mashing against your forehead before he ducked his head into your shoulder, his back muscles flexing with each thrust of his hot length into your greedy pussy.

“Choso,” you begged, the sensation of his dick filling you up so wholly turning you to sap at his hand, indescribable ecstasy waving over your body and washing away any previous discomfort. Your swollen clit bumped against the ridge of his abs with his thrusts, sending shivers down your spine as she quivered into his mass.

“Nghhh, fuckkkk, y’feel so good inside me, Cho. So good, I can feel all of youuuu!”

Choso was so loud in your ear, panting, choking over his groans, growling, whimpering, moaning. His voice was so hot when desperate for you, rugged and heavy, blazing with the pleasure that overtook him as your walls suctioned around his dick, dragging him in. “I can- ngh- f-feel you too, baby, so good,” he blabbered, kissing across your neck, his hair tickling your chin. Your fingers dragged down his back, eyes hazy as he murmured sweet nothings into you. “So pretty, so fucking pretty. I need you, baby, need to be inside you. Just like this pretty, oh my god…”

He was making love to you so passionately, tucking his arms under and around your waist as you tightened your legs over him, arms wrapping him to you tightly as he speared deep into your walls. The wind proceeded to howl against the window, but neither of you paid the snow any further mind, far too enraptured with the conjoining of your bodies, of your souls, of your love.

“Love you, Cho,” you whimpered, gasping loudly when a sting of arousal pooled from around his dick, dripping over your ass and smacking into his hips against yours lewdly. “Love you s’much,” you cried, moaning louder when his pace fastened.

“Love you too,” he whined into you. “Love you, m-more than anyth’ng, love the way you feel, love your pussy so much, so so much. I love you.”

“I love you!”

You didn’t know how long the two of you were on that couch that night, or whether the storm had passed or not. Skin slapping against skin lifted over the roar of the fire partnered by your escalating moans, which could have likely been heard down the hall in your apartment complex, but it didn’t matter.

What mattered was Choso lips crushing against your jaw, murmuring proclamations of devotion and praise over your being and your beautiful pussy, gripping him and dragging two more orgasms out of his body, onto your stomach and deep inside your heat. What mattered was the push of your tits against his pecs as your bodies rocked into the cushions, fucking each other for all you were worth and for all that you mean to one another. What mattered was your breathless pleas, your loving embrace, your second, third spray of fluids over Choso’s abdomen.

What mattered was your love, how beautifully the two of you had consummated it, and how you simultaneously kept each other warm in the midst of the storm.

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strawberrykidneystone · 5 months ago

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mistletoe

sevika x fem! reader

summary: sevika had never really gotten into any holiday traditions, but you were determined to make your first winter season together memorable

a/n: guys it actually feels like christmas this year im so happy

tags: tooth rotting fluff, kissing, cuddling

ao3 version

ty for requesting anon!!

when sevika came back from work one day to find your shared house covered in winter decorations, she was a little dumbfounded to say the least. the holidays were never really a thing for her family and she had never properly celebrated it, unless you count getting shitfaced in a bar since she had work off “celebrating”. there were little christmas knick knacks on basically every available surface, poinsettias, holly, and garlands galore matched with twinkling lights. she had never actually seen a hallmark movie but from what she’d heard, she was pretty sure she just walked into one.

and to top it all off, there you were with a wide smile on your face, standing at the door to your kitchen with two steaming hot mugs full of hot cocoa waiting for her as soon as she got in the door. you had a green, white, and red patterned sweater on that looked slightly itchy with a pair of sweats, clearly ready for some serious cuddling, which she was definitely in the mood for after the day that she just had. she looked around the house with a bit of child-like wonder in her eyes as she shucked off her coat and emptied out her pockets into the bowl by your door, “holy shit.”

“do you like it?”

“it looks like an elf threw up in here.”

you rolled your eyes and happily glided over to her, pressing the steaming mug into her chilled hands. it did snow in zaun, but it turned to more of a slush as soon as it hit the ground which was sad, but it was better than no snow at all in your opinion. plus, it was funny to see a sleepy sevika fall on her ass in the morning when she went out to get the paper.

“is it pretty throw up at least?” you asked sweetly as you fluttered your lashes up at her.

she took a second to glance around once more at your winter wonderland and took a big gulp of the chocolate liquid while pretending to think, licking the mustache off her upper lip with a satisfied smiled, “yes it’s very pretty, almost as pretty as the girl who decorated it.”

you blushed and smiled giddily as she pressed a sweet kiss to your cheek, her scarred lips were a comfortable warmth against your skin. you chatted about your plans for the outside of the house as you followed her into your shared bedroom, not missing the groan that sevika let out when you mentioned her potentially having to go up onto the roof.

but alas, she would do it for you.

after she had changed out of her work clothes and into her comfy ones, you practically dragged her into the living room that now had snowman throw pillows with matching blankets arranged onto the couch. the two of you curled up on the sofa with your respective beverages, sevika spooning you with her back against the upright cushions. thankfully, your sweater wasn’t as itchy as it looked and was quite soft pressed against her skin, a welcomed warmth against her tank top-clad torso. clicking through the channels with the tv remote, you turned on a fire background on your television while the two of you chatted about your respective days and enjoyed each other’s company after only seeing each other briefly for a goodbye kiss in the morning.

when your talk slowly faded into a comfortable silence that was only broken when one of you yawned, the two of you slowly got up from your cocoon of warmth with you carrying the dirty dishes into the kitchen as sevika quietly trailed after you with a warm hand pressed into the middle of your back. she hugged you from behind while you stood in front of the sink and buried her face into the crook of your neck while you washed the mugs, softly pressing a kiss onto your shoulder every so often. you screeched as she teased her cold metal hand under your shirt and smacked it away, a boisterous laugh leaving your lover as she peppered a few apology kisses down your neck. drying your hands off and turning around in her arms, a lazy smile tugging on her lips.

“c’mon big mama, let’s get you to bed,” you cooed and pulled her along behind you, leading her with your hand laced in her flesh one. she squeezed your hand in hers, gladly letting herself be led to your shared bedroom as she gave a playful slap to your ass with her mechanical hand that earned her a playful grimace as you glanced over your shoulder at her.

suddenly stopping in the doorway of the kitchen, sevika barely had time to stop before she would’ve plowed you onto the ground. you grinned up at your girlfriend who had a very confused look on her face as you dropped her hand when you spun around to face her, your hands mischievously clasped behind your back.

“what?”

you silently pointed up to the plant hanging above your heads with the bright red berries shining in contrast to its pointy green leaves.

“we’re under mistletoe.”

“okay?…”

“the tradition is that you have to kiss whoever you’re under the mistletoe with.”

“baby if you wanted a kiss you could’ve just-“

you covered her mouth with you hand before she could protest and shook your head, “tradition!”

she sighed against your hand and grabbed your wrist to peel your fingers off of her mouth.

“alright alright,” she grumbled as reached forward and rested her hands on your hips, pulling you in so close that your torsos were pressed together.

you grinned at her as she humored your “silly holiday traditions” and pulled her down into a passionate kiss, throwing your arms tightly around her neck. the taste of hot chocolate still lingered on both of your mouths, making the kiss all the more sweet as your lips interlocked in a practiced dance. your heart filled with so much warmth as you silently swore to give sevika the holiday season that she deserved, especially to make up for all the ones she missed celebrating in years prior.

sevika hummed and pulled back from the kiss before it got too heated, resting her forehead against yours with her eyes closed in contentment.

“you better not be under this stupid plant with anyone else.”

you smiled and rubbed the tip of your nose against hers, “wouldn’t dream of it sev.”

a/n: guilty pleasure during this season is mistletoe by justin bieber

taglist: @maneskinwh0re @archangeldyke-all @fandoms-will-be-the-death-of-me @sevikasfan @lez-zuha @comfortripley @sunflowerwinds

#sevika #sevika arcane #arcane sevika #sevika x reader #sevika x female reader #sevika x fem! reader #sevika x fem reader #sevika fan fiction #sevika fluff #strawberrykidneystone #strawberrykidneystone writes

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dixons-sunshine · 6 months ago

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Sweet Treats | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Day One: Cookies/Cocoa

(GIF by @jaaryl)

“Jesus fuck, s’colder than a witch’s tit out there. M’freezin’ my ass off.”

The sound of your husband’s voice echoed through your shared Alexandrian home. You chuckled lightly to yourself, shaking your head as you continued with your task; placing the cookies you had baked into a tin, two steaming cups of hot chocolate resting on the countertops next to you. You had made the beverages when you had initially heard the roaring rumble of the archer’s motorcycle, knowing fully well that Daryl would be feeling like an ice cube when he returned.

And you were right.

The sound of Daryl’s footsteps grew closer, until the man himself was standing a mere few feet away from you. He hummed in approval when the aroma of the freshly baked cookies filled his senses.

“Mhm, smells good,” he started, rubbing his hands together in the hopes of heating them up. “What’cha makin’?”

“Hello to you, too, Daryl,” you began in a teasing voice, turning around to face him and nearly colliding with his chest, not expecting him to have been so close. However, you quickly composed yourself. “How was your day? My day was okay, thank you so much for asking.”

Daryl rolled his eyes, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Yeah, yeah. M’sorry. Lemme try again.” He cleared his throat, stepped forward and gently pulled you closer by your hips, his ocean-like eyes sparkling under the faint light of the kitchen. “Hiya, Sweetheart. Whatever you’re makin’ smells fuckin’ amazin’.”

“Hmm, not exactly right, but we’re getting there.” You smiled softly and leaned forward to catch his lips with yours, slowly and tenderly moving your mouths against one another’s. When you pulled back, you reached up and tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear. “Okay, but you weren’t lying. Even your lips are cold.”

“S’what I said. S’fuckin’ cold out there,” Daryl replied, moving to lean against the countertop while he carefully watched you grab a cup of, what he presumed to be, coffee and pass it over to him. However, when he took a sip, his eyes widened, and he looked back over at you. “S’this…?”

“Hot cocoa,” you confirmed, your eyes crinkling at the corners as you smiled at the almost child-like glee on his face at the sweet beverage. “I found some on a run the other day and I swiped it. And—” You grabbed the tin and opened it, before extending it to him. “—I asked Carol if I could borrow her cookie recipe, because you can’t have one without the other, right?”

“Right,” he agreed, taking a cookie from the tin and taking an eager bite from it.

He groaned in satisfaction and you laughed lightly. “Good?”

“Fuckin’ amazin’,” he complimented through a mouthful of the sweet treat. “You truly outdid yourself with this.”

“Thank you,” you replied, picking up your own cup and holding it up for a ‘toast��. Daryl scoffed but smiled faintly, before clinking his mug against yours.

“What’re we toastin’ ‘bout?” he inquired.

“Nothing in particular. Maybe about our love for each other.”

Daryl shook his head, but could not stop the warmth that bloomed in his chest at your words. “Way to make the moment sappy.”

“You love it, and you know it.”

“Nah,” he admitted after a moment of silence, “but I love you, and s’enough to make me overlook all of your chick flick moments.”

“You know what? I’ll take it.”

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goldenhypen · 1 year ago

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. ⊹ just like this ˚ ͎ ｡

syn. taking care of jake when he gets sick, all because you refused to bring a jacket.

pair. jake x reader · wc. 1k · contains. fluff, catching a cold, mentions of food/drink

a/n. ^^ jake has the prettiest smile- nearly forgot this was just sitting in my drafts waiting to see the light of day- so now hopefully at least someone can enjoy it :’>

“damn, as much as i love to kiss you, your lips are freezing,” jake explained after he pulled away with hints of worry in his voice. “oh my, your hands are cold too. i told you you should’ve brought a jacket. you’re freezing.”

it had only been a few seconds but somehow, your lips were already missing the warmth of his own on yours.

“n-no”—stupid stutter—you denied through chattering teeth as the rest of your body began to shiver.

“really,” he said in more of a challenging tone through a chuckle, rather than a question, as he perked up a brow.

he already shrugged off most of his own jacket before you could even think of protesting, and within approximately three seconds, his coat was already hung over your shoulders, sheltering you from the chilling breeze, immediately feeling warmth shoot throughout your body.

“better?” he smirked.

“yes,” you half-guiltily admitted. “you’re going to get sick though.”

the frown on your face didn’t leave even as his next words left his throat, “well, better me than you.”

“no, jake,” you said as your pout grew longer.

“you know why?”

“hm?”

he paused as a smirk travelled to his lips before answering, “because then i’ll get to have you as my caretaker.”

“pfft—please. no, you're not. i’m telling you to take your jacket back, but you’re not letting me give it back to you. so that would be your fault.”

“ouch, someone is really eager to not take care of their boyfriend. okay, i see how it is,” he said with a dramatic frown.

you looked at him as you shook your head and rolled your eyes, “jake, no, i—”

“it’s fine! still better me than you though,” he said —if it was even possible—with more drama in his tone than before as he began to walk away.

you ran to catch up with him and took his still warm hand in both of yours as you looked into his eyes, but being the petty boy he was, who liked playing these silly games, he only continued walking, gaze straight ahead, refusing to look in your direction.

the rest of your date went on, with him eventually forgetting how he had planned on staying dramatic for as long as he could, and he made sure his jacket wasn’t let off your shoulders until you both got home, an immediate rush of warm air filling your bodies. momentarily, you took in the relaxing sensation, closing your eyes.

“want some hot cocoa?” jake asked, whipping you back to reality.

you gave him a small smile, followed by a satisfied nod at the idea. you could already feel the hot beverage flowing down your throat, warming up your insides.

you followed jake to the kitchen. and that was when you heard a sneeze just a few feet ahead.

“jake…”

he cleared his throat. “what? it was just a sneeze.”

“if you’re sick—”

“i’m alright. don’t worry.”

sceptical, you nodded.

later as you two cuddled up on the couch under a fluffy blanket, hands wrapped around a nice cup of hot cocoa, jake furrowed his brows. “why is it so cold in here?”

you turned your head to face him with a questioning look. “i’m not cold.”

“it’s so cold.”

“jake, love, i think it’s just you.”

he shivered, putting his mug down before drowning himself under the covers. “cold.”

you hugged him under the ocean of blanket before he said, “i think i’ve got chills.”

you sighed sadly, “and who said they weren’t sick, hm?”

he huffed out a long puff of air from his cheeks. “i don’t feel good, y/n.”

you sighed again softly, feeling bad for the boy. “okay, stay here and rest. i’ll go make you some soup.”

you let go of his already weak and exhausted form before standing up, beginning to make your way toward the kitchen as you heard a “thanks, i love you!”

⎯ ❤︎ ⎯

“okay, i’m back with soup.” you placed it on the table in front of him. “it’s hot, be careful.”

“thanks, love.”

you watched as he took his first few spoonfuls, your hand reached behind his head as you ran it up and down his back soothingly.

after a moment of silence as he drank his soup, a sudden eruption of giggles filled the room.

“what’s wrong?” you asked, subconsciously beginning to laugh with him.

“i love being sick,” he said, turning to you with a cheeky grin.

“i’m sorry, you what?” you laughed, imagining you must’ve heard it wrong.

“i like being sick.”

“what? why?” you asked at his ridiculous statement.

“because i always get to have you take care of me,” he smirked, not so cheeky this time but more happy than anything.

“i—” was all you managed to push out, speechless.

“told you you’d take care of me,” he then said proudly victorious, chin held high. “i know you well enough to know how down bad you are for me, y/n.”

you scoffed in disbelief, “oh, please. you are unbelievable.”

“i might be unbelievable, but i’m not wrong,” he continued playfully.

“okay, mr. smarty pants. you win. i do love you, and what about it?”

he giggled, coming closer and wrapping his arms around your waist, tucking his head into the crook of your neck.

no matter how long you two had been together, him doing this exact form of physical touch never failed to make everything in your body go weak, except your heart, its pace beating so fast, you were almost afraid it would leap out of your chest any minute.

“i love you more,” he breathed into your neck with a smile.

you wrapped your arms around him before starting, “okay, you big baby,” you tapped your hand in a repeating motion on his back, “i think you should get some sleep now. your body needs it.”

you felt as he nodded into your neck. “mhm. just like this.” he said, referring to the way you were tangled in each others arms, bodies sharing warmth, and breaths moving in sync. he closed his eyes. “this is exactly what i need to feel better.”

a/n. ahhh yall pls lmk if you liked this cuz idk if it’s me just second guessing myself but im feeling quite unsure about this one 🫠 and as always, thanks for reading <33

m.list · taglist

taglist 1. @raimbows4u @sultrybaby @kpop-nct @ajayke-reads @wccycc @enhacolor @enhasfever @nokacchan @yizhoutv @xiaoderrrr @soobin-chois @tyunni @shinsou-rii @vickytodoroki @softkpopplace @belle643 @nar-nia @rapmonie2047 @sunjakes @w3bqrl @ethereal-engene @exohclipse @yeosayang @4ri-ki @aeriil11 @jaeyunjakesim @whoschr @enaus @hoes4hoseok @palajae @annoyingbitch83 @kpoprhia @rcrystallocks @stepout-09-15 @zeraaax @enhasengene @atrirose @pistachiophobia @svnoofy @sweetjaemss @vatterie @majesticallymark @mnsnts @en-chantedtomeetyou @yeseoist @milisabunny @wonniestars @kazmura @nicholasluvbot @haechansbbg

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cellophanejpeg · 8 months ago

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let it happen | s. hanta

s: when you confess to your best friend that you have no sexual experience, he makes an offer that surprises and intrigues you at the same time.

w: explicit smut, loss of virginity, drinking, reader has female anatomy, but no pronouns are used (i think)

n: betaread by @jemifis ❤️ read on ao3

Whenever you go out with your high school friends, the same topic always comes up: Sex.

Your beer is already warm as you cup the glass mug, staring intensely at it. Kaminari had brought it up, of course. Ten years since UA, but he’s still the same blabbermouth from before.

Bakugou and Kaminari are bickering again. Something he said about the pro hero. Mina and Jirou are laughing at something Kirishima said about Bakugou, and Sero is snickering along. And then, there’s you.

You weren’t even officially part of their friend group back in school. You've been friends with Sero since you were a kid, so whenever he was there, you’d hang out with them too. Plus, you worked in the same agency as him and Mina, so these kinds of Hangouts happen often. You always talk with the girls, and Sero and Kirishima are great listeners too, but you can’t help but feel out of place.

“What about you?” Mina calls your name, bringing you back from your thoughts, “I bet you have a lot of dates, right?”

Suddenly, all eyes are on you. You don’t know when Bakugou and Denki stopped arguing, or how the focus of the conversation had changed, but you discreetly take a deep breath and shake your head.

“Not many, no” you answer before gulping down the rest of your beer.

“What?!” Kaminari exclaims, speech slurred, eyes droopy from the alcohol. “You’re like the hottest here, how come you don’t have people falling to your feet?”

“Kaminari,” Sero scolds him with a stern look on his face.

“I-I don’t have much time for dating,” you lie, finishing your beer.

The truth is, you’re not good at it. You tried going out with a guy in school, but you’re too awkward for it, too insecure. But it definitely bothers you that you’re in your mid-twenties and still haven’t had sex. Especially on nights like this, where the talk is all hook ups and getting laid.

The conversation shifts to something else, thanks to Sero, and you manage to finish your awful warm beer without any more attention, thankfully.

Kaminari ends up getting so drunk that Bakugou and Kirishima have to carry him home, and Mina and Jirou share an Uber, since they're roommates. Which leaves you and Sero at the bar.

“Sorry about Kaminari,” Sero says, after getting another round for the both of you. “I swear, he never fucking changes.”

“It's alright.” You smile, feeling much more comfortable now that it's just you and him at the table.

“I'm sorry you haven't had time for dating too.” He takes a swig from his beer, “Maybe we can switch shifts or something back at the agency.”

“Oh, don't worry about it,” you say, waving a hand at him, “I don't really mind it.”

He looks at you with a puzzled face. “Oh, come on! Of course you do.”

You try to buy some time by taking a sip of the beer. This one is much better, colder and fresher than the other. So you take another sip, gulping the cold beverage and sighing satisfied.

“I really don't care about dating,” you finally say, wiping your lips on the back of your hand. Sero says your name and turns his body towards you.

“You're lying!”

“I'm not!”

“Look me in the eyes and say it again.” His dark eyes stare at yours through the dimly lit room, slightly narrowed, yet still playful. Your breath hitched. You feel your cheeks hot, not really sure if it was the alcohol or just him.

If you’re being completely honest with yourself, you’ve always had a crush on him. When you were little, you used to say you’d marry him someday and would get upset when he ran away from you. You used to play together almost every weekend and, even in the awkward teenage phase, you’d still hang out as if you didn’t feel anything for him. You were recommended to UA and he took the exams to get into the same school as you. Hanta was always a part of your life, the only constant in it. Of course you liked him more than a friend.

But you’d never admit it out loud, not when the chance of ruining your friendship comes with your confession. You like him too much for that. Being his friend is enough.

If you looked any longer at him, he would be able to read you like an open book, so you tear your gaze away. Sero says your name, his smile fading away and worry taking place on his semblance.

“What's wrong?” He asks, voice softening.

“Nothing!” You try to smile and laugh it off, but he doesn't drop the subject. Instead, he touches his fingertips to your arm, sending a delicious rush of sparks through your skin.

“Hey, you know you can tell me anything, angel. I'm your best friend.”

Your eyes meet him again, his face much more serious than before.

“I…” you hesitate. “I've never been with anyone.”

Sero widens his eyes for a split of a second, clearly taming his reaction. You honestly don’t know why he’s so surprised, he knows you better than anyone else in the world; but again, it’s not like he tells you everything about his love life either.

“Oh.” Is all he can say.

“I've never even been kissed.” You cringe, taking a large gulp of your beer, gathering the courage to continue, “And everytime sex comes up during our hangouts, I feel like an alien or something.”

“I could tell Kaminari to stop–” He tries to suggest, but you interrupt him.

“No! That's not–” you sigh, “I don't mean to– to demand what everyone should talk about, I just–” another sigh, “I just wish I…”

“You just wish you weren’t a virgin.” He finished for you once you couldn’t.

The beer in your mouth makes its way up as you choke on it, startled by the casual way he said it. You cough and Sero hits your back lightly, chuckling at your reaction.

“That's not–” You cough, feeling your face on fire, “I mean, I don't–”

“Oh, come on, I know you better than your own mother. I was there when you first got your period and I've bought you pads and chocolate pretty much every month since then. You can tell me, nothing to be ashamed of. You're horny. All you need is someone to give you some release and you'll be fine.”

“Hanta!” You know he's just teasing you, but he isn't wrong. You have been horny for quite some time, but you still haven't found someone worth your time and energy.

“It's simple.” Sero shrugs, finishing his drink. “We have to find someone to do you.”

At this point, you don't even feel your face anymore, whether because of the alcohol or from embarrassment.

“Well, what if I don't want to lose my virginity with some rando? Maybe I want to do it with someone I trust. Someone I know won’t hurt me after.”

At that, Sero looks back at you surprised, almost as if he had forgotten that detail. A pause hangs in the air, tension building between you two. You watch his eyes darken as his breath hitches.

“I'll do it.”

“What.” You’re glad you’ve already finished your beer.

“I'll take your virginity.”

“That's not funny, Hanta.”

“It's not a joke.” He pauses. “Someone you trust, right?”

You open your mouth and then close it, realizing he has a point. Swallowing hard, you ponder the options. Pro: you have the chance of doing what you've always wanted to do, which is to be with Sero. Con: it's only physically, not romantically.

“If things get weird between us…”

“We'll never talk about it,” Sero says, tracing a cross over his chest, and offering you his pinky finger, “I promise you.”

“Okay,” you hook your own pinky to his, holding his gaze. His eyes dance between yours for a moment, before they drop to stare at your lips; his expression was something different, a semblance you've never witnessed on him before.

Is he horny?

Sero leans to kiss you, his broad shoulders curving towards you. Panic rushes in your veins and you shrink into yourself, looking away and feeling your face burn.

“W-we should get an Uber,” you stutter, still not able to look at him.

“Yeah.” He smiles, starting to stand from his seat, ready to pay the bill and bring you home. If he notices your nervousness, he doesn't say anything about it.

The ride home was awkwardly silent. Your heart hammered in your chest each mile you got closer to his apartment. He made you choose between his place or yours, and you decided that if things went badly, you at least could flee away from his apartment.

“Make yourself at home.” Sero opens the door to the apartment you've been in countless times.

It's different now. You see the same decor, the same couch and cushions, and the same pictures on the wall, but somehow it's different tonight.

Sensing your hesitation, Sero touches your arms delicately.

“You alright?”

You take a deep breath. “Nervous.”

“You don't have to do anything you don't want to.”

“I know.” You smile at him, crossing the threshold and finally entering the apartment. Bending to remove your shoes, you see him closing the door and toeing off his sneakers, tossing the keys in the bowl on the counter. “So how do we do this?”

Sero laughs softly at your words and sighs, removing his jacket to hang on the coat holder. Then, he motions for you to turn around so he can take yours. You're both still in the foyer and you don't know what to do with your hands.

The chill air makes you shiver, holding yourself in just a tank top and jeans. His warm hands touch your upper arms, rubbing up and down so the goosebumps on your skin go away. Nothing he hasn't done before.

“Do you want a drink?” His voice lowers an octave and you shiver again, shaking your head. His hands snake under your arms as he wraps his arms on your waist; you involuntarily contract your abdomen muscles, sucking your stomach, not used to being touched there. “I'm going to kiss your neck, is that okay?”

Your breath hitches, your heart beats hard, and you nod, seconds before his lips touch the sensitive skin under your ear. Warmth blooms in your chest, your stomach, the middle of your legs as he peppers feather-like kisses through your neck and shoulder. A quiet moan escapes your lips, encouraging him to keep going.

Sero presses his body on your back, slipping his hands under your tank top. He starts walking you towards his bedroom, his mouth still on you.

“Tell me to stop and I will.” His voice is breathy as he presses his body closer to yours, his erection growing on your ass.

Then, he stops once you reach his room, saying your name.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” you breathe out, turning around to face him.

His lips press against yours, taking your breath away. Sero is gentle, cupping your cheeks and rubbing his thumb on your soft skin; he slowly moves you towards the bed, making you sit, then lay down on your back on his bed.

He cages you, leaning himself on his elbows on the mattress and resuming his kissing. His tongue pushes past your lips and you allow him in. It's a little awkward at first, you're not sure what to do, but Sero has a lot of patience and soon you get the gist of it.

Knowing this experience will shape how you feel about sex forever, your best friend makes sure to not rush things, even though his cock is tightening in his jeans. He wants you to enjoy yourself, make this about you only, give you as much pleasure as he can. Sero pulls away to stare at you, rosy cheeks and blown out pupils.

How he waited for this moment. To have you under him, the warmth of your body against his, your soft flesh under his hands, your lips on his. You have no idea how bad Sero has it for you.

“Hanta?” You whisper when he stares at you too long.

He smiles at you, a beam of sunshine in your eyes, as he kneels on the bed to take his shirt off. You feel your cheeks warm up – if that's even possible – when you see his bare chest. Sero has a sleeper build, meaning you wouldn’t don't even notice he's got big muscles until you see him shirtless (or in his hero suit); you've been friends with him long enough to see him in swim shorts on the beach, but you've never touched him like right now.

Your hand flattens on his chest, feeling the fine hairs. The muscles there are hard, the fruit of his constant working out and his shoulders are so broad that you can't even wrap your arms around them.

Sero looks down at you, hair framing his face, eyes shining. His large hands slip underneath your shirt again, exploring your skin as his mouth connects to your neck, now giving it open mouthed kisses. You feel his mouth trail over your shoulders and clavicle as his hand finally finds your breast.

A gasp escapes your lips as his fingertips trace over your nipple, rubbing it with the pad of his thumb, tracing it, pinching it ever so slightly. Sero pulls away for a second, just to pull your tank top over your head, exposing yourself to him. You fight the instinct of covering yourself as he stares at you.

“Fuck,” he mumbles under his breath, biting his lips, “you're so– hot.”

Sero wanted to say beautiful. Perfect. Everything I've ever imagined, even more. But he contents himself with just hot, afraid he'll ruin your friendship. It seems trivial, worrying about it now, that you're about to have sex, but he can't help it.

“Sero…” You look away in embarrassment. He cups your jaw, making you look at him again.

“You are,” he insists and you smile.

Next thing you know, he's leaned down, lips wrapped around a nipple of yours. The sensation is strange at first, but as he sucks, licks, blows and lightly bites, you realize you're growing wetter and wetter. Sero leaves a trail of kisses on your stomach, gently fondling your belly as his skilled fingers find the button of your jeans.

“Lift your hips for me,” he asks and you do as you're told, helping him pull your pants off you, your underwear going with it.

When Sero spreads your legs, you feel a wave of shyness hit you, one you try to suppress by closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. He says your name, catching your attention and when you look back at him, he has a concerned look in his eyes.

“You okay?”

You nod. “A little nervous.”

“I won't hurt you, I promise.”

“I know.”

The pad of his thumb presses against you, rubbing the most sensitive part of you gently, making you moan, almost closing your legs on his hand.

“You're so wet already,” he murmurs, gathering the slick from your folds to help him massage the bundle of nerves above it. “I love it.”

With a hand covering your face, the new sensation overwhelms you. It's not like you've never touched yourself before, it's just completely different once someone else is doing it for you. Sero takes his time, pulling away just so he can adjust himself on the bed so he's with his head between your legs. He puts your thighs on his shoulders as he trails kisses on your soft skin.

You moan once his lips connect with you, his warm tongue slipping through your folds. He alternates between sucking your clit and rubbing it with his fingers, always making sure it's not left unattended.

“S-Sero…” You moan his name, hand flying to grasp his dark hair, as your breathing gets heavier and heavier, grinding on his face.

“You taste so good.” He speaks into your cunt, drunk on the taste of you. You clamp around his finger once he pushes into you, curling it inside you and groaning on your skin. It’s better than everything you’ve ever imagined it would be.

It doesn't take long for you to come on his tongue. The orgasm coils in your lower stomach slowly, then it comes at once. Hot, white pleasure hits you strongly, you roll your eyes to the back of your head and feel a little dizzy from the sensation. However, Sero doesn't stop his administration on you, overstimulating you to the point of tears when you beg for him to let you take a break.

“Sorry, baby.” He smiles up at you, face glistening with the results of your orgasm, “You're just too delicious, y’know?”

The endearing name makes your face flush, but he doesn't notice as he's too busy with undoing his belt – at least you think so. You feel your heart hammering inside your chest as he stands up to fetch something in his bedside drawer. Kicking his jeans away, he comes back to you with a pack of condoms in his hand.

“Right,” you say out loud, “forgot you’re sooo experienced..”

Sero pauses and stares at you, an amused smile on his face. Are you really pouting over him having protection in hand when he’s about to be inside you? His face gets red as he rolls the condom on himself, trying not to think about the few times he needed them. It was probably two or three times in his whole adult life. None of which he remembers well, always too drunk or too high to actually feel something.

“Don't make me laugh, angel.” He positions himself between your legs and you try not to think about how you're about to lose your virginity to your childhood friend.

“When did you start having sex anyway?”

“Oh, we're not doing this today,” he laughs, grabbing your outer thighs and pulling you closer, “This is about you, not me. You ready?”

He brings your lips on his as he presses his body on yours, trying not to crush you under his weight. You feel the tip of him teasing your entrance and your muscles tense, the nervousness gaining control over you once more.

“Breathe, okay?” he reassures, noticing you went quiet and wide eyed. “I got you.”

Sero braces himself on his elbow just beside your head, his thumb stroking your forehead gently, as he pushes himself into you, slowly. You feel a dull pain and some pressure, making you shut your eyes tightly, whimpering.

“It's okay,” he whispers, kissing your cheek, “I've got you, angel, I'm here.”

The reassuring words hit you straight in your heart, like a cupid's bow; you open your eyes to see him looking at you with stars in his gaze. He smiles down when you hold his gaze, wiping a lonely tear from your eye.

You've never loved him more than you do right now.

“You good?” He asks, unmoving inside you.

“Yeah,” you whisper back.

Then, Sero starts moving inside you, motion slow and gentle, although he wants nothing more than to thrust into you at a desperate pace. But, as he said, tonight is about you. So he moves his hips with a soft movement, until you adjust yourself and get used to him.

It takes a while before your whimpers of pain become moans of pleasure. Gradually, the strange body inside you becomes familiar, slowly building pleasure; you wrap your arms around his neck, wanting to bring him closer, if that's even possible.

Sero bites his lips when he feels your nipples brushing his chest, holding himself not to come on the spot. If he does, you'll be so disappointed. He fights the urge to bury his face on your neck, whimpering your name. You whisper his name, your breath fanning on his face and he smashes his lips on yours, kissing with a new hunger.

It’s getting harder and harder for him to hold himself back, he notices as he thrusts into you harder, earning a gasp from your lips.

“Shit, angel,” he says, touching his forehead on yours, his hair sticking in between as he starts to break a sweat, “You feel so good.”

If you weren’t on the verge of another orgasm, you’d feel embarrassed about the comment, but Sero started hitting a spot inside you that has you rolling your eyes back and digging your nails on his back. With the pressure, he moves at a quick pace, having you start moaning louder and louder; Sero pulls away from you, kneeling on the bed so he has a better grip on you. Like this, he can see the bounce of your breasts with every thrust. You’re squeezing him deliciously down there and it only makes him go faster and deeper. The pad of this thumb rubs against your clit again and you think you see stars. He needs you to come now or else he’s going to lose his mind. He can’t hold it longer.

“Just let go, baby,” he coos, pressing his thumb a little harder on you. You cover your face with your arms, curl your toes and tense every muscle in your body. Tears prick the corners of your eyes and another wave of pleasure hits you. Sero moans in response, slamming his hips on yours again and making you twitch. “That’s it, good girl.”

“Hanta,” you whine, not able to take any more, his cock overstimulating you to the point of tears.

“I know, angel, just a little more.” Sero leans to kiss you once more. Your thighs tremble with each movement of his, you hold his close, not wanting to let go.

His moans grow louder and broken as his thrusts falter a little, and Sero buries his face on your neck, finally biting down your soft skin and earning another whimper from you. He’ll apologize later. Right now, he’s too focused, pleasure blinding him as he thrusts deeper and deeper until he starts slowing down. Sero keeps whimpering your name, voice muffled by your skin and then…

A strangled moan leaves his throat and, for a second, you think he’s crying as he comes the hardest he ever did.

When he stops, you stay like that for a moment, sweat sticking on your skin, panting like you’ve run a marathon. Both of you are dizzy with pleasure and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like the feel of his skin on yours.

“What now?” You ask, catching your breath. Sero laughs, pulling away from your neck to look at you.

“We could shower,” he suggests. “Then eat.”

He holds your gaze and, for a moment, you think there’s something else in his eyes. He looks at you like he never has before and it scares you for a split of a second, but the feeling goes away as soon as it comes. Sero pulls away and stands up, holding a hand out for you to take it.

Without hesitation, you take his hand and let him guide you to the bathroom. You know everything is going to be okay, Sero is here with you. He would never leave, he’s your best friend.

Right?

#sero hanta x reader #hanta sero x reader #sero x reader #kinktober #mha x reader #bnha x reader #sero hanta #gabiwrites.txt

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plussizefantasia · 8 months ago

Text

CozyTober Day 1: Borrowing a Jacket

Logan Howlett x Reader

WC: ~0.7k

a/n: I loved doing flufftober last year so I thought I'd give it a shot again this year, expect 31 days of cozy vibes and hot men <3

warnings: none

CozyTober divider credits @strangergraphics

The grounds of the X-Mansion are gorgeous in the fall. The shift in colors bathes the garden in a visual warmth unmatched by the other three seasons of the year. Walking the well-worn paths in the morning light gives you a sense of peace that you have yet to find anywhere else.

You clutch your mug in between your hands and continue your stroll, past the small pound and under the canopy of trees. The beverage warms you from the inside out and in this moment you feel content. At this moment there are no yelling children. No bickering adults. There is no mission to go on or mutant to save. There is just you, and the trees, and the wind, and the birds.

You stand at the edge of an expansive clearing, staring out into the trees on the other side, and think. You think about important things like your friendships and your plans for the future and you think about not-so-important things like what to have for dinner and whether or not to do your laundry today. But like always your thoughts seem to drift to the man you left sleeping in bed this morning.

You can’t exactly pinpoint the moment when Logan took over your thoughts, perhaps it was after he kissed you for the first time, and you felt suddenly alive after years of going through the motions. Or maybe it was when your realized just how well the two of you clicked, when he moved into your room and everything was so delightfully easy. Or maybe there wasn’t a specific moment, maybe it was a collection of moments that slowly took over your brain until you couldn’t go more than an hour without thinking of him and everything that entails.

You're brought out of your musing by rough hands that you know well. Hands that act as a balm to your soul and ground you in the present. Right now, they act as mini furnaces. When did you get so cold? You can feel the goosebumps on your arms but don’t remember feeling them come up. You feel it now though, the slight bite of the wind at your skin.

“Thought I’d find you out here.” The gruff voice of your man drifts on the very wind that stings you.

“I usually am at this hour.” You turn in his hold so that the two of you are chest to chest. You curve yourself against him, he radiates heat and right now you could use some. “Though, you are usually still sleeping right about now.” You mumble into his chest.

“I woke up when you left. You didn’t grab your coat.” His hands rub up and down your back, easing the bumps back into your skin.

You look at him and raise an eyebrow. “You came all the way out here to scold me for not bringing a jacket, and you didn’t bring my jacket with you?”

“Don’t be stupid. ‘Course I brought a jacket bub.” Logan removes his arms from around you and you lean further into him chasing the heat. You watch though as he shucks off his own corduroy coat and wraps it around you. All he has on underneath is a plain white tee and you scoff. You try to shed the jacket. Insisting that you’ll be fine.

“But you’ll be cold.”

“I promise you that I will survive the walk back. You on the other hand were trembling like a leaf when I got here so.”

“Well… thank you.” You place a kiss on his cheek and grab his hand. You start pulling him back towards the mansion, not wanting him to be cold for any longer than he has to be.

“Lo?” You breathe into the silence that had settled between you.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

He doesn’t say anything. But he pulls you by your hand closer to him and places a kiss on your head. You feel warm.

#logan howlett x plus size reader #plus size reader #plus size!reader #fanfic #x reader #fluff #drabble #logan howlett fluff #logan howlett #logan x reader #logan howlett x reader #james howlett #james howlett x reader #wolverine x plus size reader #wolverine x reader #requests wanted #requests open #cozytober2024

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amethystarachnid · 19 days ago

Note

Hey if you're still writing requests, can you plz make one where Tony's kid/s hear him & yn one night (iykyk) and ask what are those noises and randomly popping the question how they were born..?? His responses to questions like this would be epic😂 You can write it however you want... Thanks!

Your recent works "Stuck" and "Prom" were awesome btw

LATE NIGHTS AND LITTLE EARS

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: fluff, romance, rom-com

ᯓ★ Word count: 5.8k

ᯓ★ Summary: what the ask said + family cuddle attack at the end

ᯓ★ TW(s): mild sexual content (but like three spicy scenes, only one more explicit), suggestive humor, and awkward discussions involving young children asking about adult topics

ᯓ★ I've tried being more explicit than usual in the spicy scenes and I dont know how it turned out...

ᯓ★ Love is in the air - Valentine's Day special game

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

It starts, like most mornings, with screaming.

Not the horror-movie kind, though. The kid kind. The kind that comes with stomping feet, a door slamming somewhere down the hallway, and the unmistakable crash of a cereal bowl hitting the tile. It’s 7:03 AM. The sun hasn’t even crept through the curtains yet.

“Howard Stark the Second, I swear to god—”

“That was Nova’s fault!”

“Was not! You pushed me!”

You groan, already reaching blindly for Tony beside you, only to find empty sheets and the faint scent of coffee lingering on his pillow. Of course. He’s escaped. Again. Probably hiding in the lab with his AI and his fancy espresso machine while you’re left to referee the Hunger Games: Child Edition.

You throw the blanket off and shuffle toward the disaster zone, feet cold against the marble as you round the corner into the kitchen.

Nova is standing on a chair, her curls sticking up in five different directions, her favorite purple pajamas soaked in milk. She’s holding a spoon like a weapon. Howard is shirtless, pouting, arms crossed like he’s preparing for a legal battle.

And in the middle of the chaos—Tony Stark, billionaire-genius and traitor to mornings—leans casually against the island counter, sipping coffee like this is all just background noise to his suave little world.

You glare at him. “You heard that and didn’t step in?”

He shrugs, holding out your mug like a peace offering. “I figured you’d want to start your day with a warm beverage and the beautiful sound of our children expressing themselves creatively through violence.”

“Tony.”

“Babe.”

He winks at you, all smug and gorgeous in his sweatpants and vintage Black Sabbath tee, and you hate that it still makes your stomach flip. Even after ten years. Even after two kids and zero sleep and more milk-related incidents than you care to count.

You take the coffee, but not the bait. Not yet.

“Go upstairs and change,” you tell Nova gently, brushing milk off her sleeve. “And Howard, you don’t get to push your sister because she took the last Lucky Charms marshmallow.”

“She licked it, Mom.”

“Tony,” you say, not taking your eyes off Howard, “tell your son what we think about food-based revenge in this house.”

Tony takes a dramatic sip of his coffee, then says, “Only if it’s funny.”

You shoot him a look. He puts his hands up in surrender.

“Okay, okay. No food-based revenge. Unless it involves whipped cream and your mother.”

“Tony!”

Howard’s face twists into a grimace. “Ew! Why are you like this?”

Nova screams from upstairs, “I HATE MILK! I NEED A TOWEL!”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “I am running away. I am joining the circus.”

“You’d look hot in sequins,” Tony muses, setting down his mug. “But I have better ideas. One of them involves locking the bedroom door, and the other involves my mouth—”

The kitchen timer dings before he can finish. You groan.

“Did you make pancakes?”

Tony grins. “Blueberry. I added protein powder. Because I care about your glutes.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Are you trying to butter me up?”

He takes a step closer, crowding into your space. “Literally and figuratively.”

His hand slides around your waist, his palm warm even through the oversized hoodie you slept in. He leans in, mouth brushing your ear. “Five minutes. Closet. No one will notice.”

You let yourself close your eyes for one beat. Just one. Because god, the man is intoxicating, and he knows it. Always has. You remember what five minutes with Tony Stark can do to your sanity—and your vocal cords.

Then Nova yells from upstairs again. “I CAN’T FIND ANY PANTS!”

Tony sighs against your neck. “Our children are a menace.”

“Wonder where they got it from.”

He grins and presses a quick, heated kiss to your cheek before releasing you.

You move like a well-oiled machine through the morning madness. Pancakes are served. Nova is bribed into jeans with the promise of extra syrup. Howard gets a lecture about breakfast table etiquette while sneaking a bite of Tony’s second helping. You pack their lunches while Tony puts their backpacks by the door—only to realize they’ve drawn on them in permanent marker again. There’s glitter in Nova’s hair. A Lego in Tony’s shoe.

Somewhere between tying shoelaces and signing a permission slip, Tony grabs your hand. “You know I’m crazy about you, right?”

You give him a tired but fond look. “Even when I smell like milk and mediates sibling fights before 8 AM?”

“Especially then.”

He steals another kiss—this one longer, deeper—and you don’t fight it. Not even when you hear the twins gagging in unison behind you.

“Gross,” Nova mutters, grabbing her water bottle.

“You’ll understand when you’re older,” Tony calls as they head for the front door.

“You guys kissed! In front of us! That should be illegal!”

Howard points at his eyes, then at the two of you. “I’m watching you.”

The door closes behind them, the school bus rumbling down the street seconds later.

Silence settles. Blessed, beautiful silence.

You sigh, leaning against the counter. Tony is already beside you again, fingers walking up your thigh. “So. About that closet…”

You snort. “You are incorrigible.”

“And horny,” he says brightly. “Don’t forget horny.”

“I have exactly thirty minutes before I need to be on a Zoom call.”

He glances at the clock. “Thirty minutes is practically a romantic getaway in Stark Standard Time.”

You roll your eyes—but you’re already moving, letting him tug you down the hallway and into the closet. He locks the door with a flourish, spins you into his arms like he’s still the playboy from years ago. And maybe he is, a little. But now he’s your playboy. Your husband. Your chaos. Your partner in pancake crimes and stolen morning quickies.

He tilts your chin up, voice low and sincere this time. “You’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Even in that hoodie. Especially in that hoodie.”

You arch a brow. “Is this where you ask me to leave it on?”

“Oh no, this is where I take it off very, very slowly.”

And maybe it’s not Paris or a penthouse or some wild escapade in Monaco, but in this tiny closet, surrounded by shoes and laundry and the faint echo of your kids’ chaos—you feel like the luckiest woman in the world.

---

It’s chaos. Again.

You knew it would be. School pick-up always is. But today? Today is worse.

The moment you pull up in the car, Nova is standing outside the gate, arms crossed, face scrunched into a perfect replica of Tony’s trademark pout. Howard is next to her, holding a half-crushed science project and looking deeply betrayed.

You barely get the car into park before Nova is yanking the door open.

“I’m never speaking to Ms. Rivera again,” she declares, climbing into the backseat with the kind of melodrama that makes you want to laugh and scream all at once.

Howard flops in beside her with a heavy sigh. “She made me sit next to Logan. Logan chews pencils.”

You blink. “Wait—what happened to Ms. Rivera?”

“She said I couldn’t glue glitter on my rocket ship because it’s ‘not realistic,’” Nova huffs. “But it’s space! Space is supposed to be magical!”

“She doesn’t understand the vision,” Howard mutters solemnly.

“Clearly,” you reply, pulling back into traffic. “So, glitter rockets and pencil chewers. Got it.”

As you drive, your phone buzzes. A text from Tony.

bring the tiny chaos goblins to the lab. surprise for them. and for you 😘

You smile despite the traffic, then glance in the rearview mirror. “Wanna stop by Dad’s lab before we go home?”

Nova perks up immediately. “Is Dum-E there?!”

Howard leans forward. “And Butterfingers? And the cool robot arm thing that almost decapitated Dad last week?”

You hum thoughtfully. “All the above. But only if we all agree not to glue glitter to anything inside Stark Industries. Deal?”

Nova hesitates. “What if it’s tastefully applied?”

“Deal, Nova.”

She sighs dramatically. “Fine.”

Twenty minutes later, you’re stepping into the glass-paneled elevator of Stark Tower, kids practically vibrating with excitement. The AI greets you by name—well, greets you politely and then calls the twins “incoming small agents of entropy.” Accurate.

The lab is buzzing, literally. Lights flicker, machines whir, and in the middle of it all, Tony is crouched beside a new prototype—a sleek, four-legged bot that looks like a cross between a puppy and a drone.

Nova lets out a shriek of joy. “YOU MADE A ROBOT DOG?!”

Tony grins, looking far too pleased with himself. “Meet Bark-E. Still in beta. Sometimes mistakes shadows for threats. Or feet.”

As if on cue, the robot dog whirs to life, scans the twins, and starts barking—an adorably mechanical, high-pitched sound that makes both kids dissolve into laughter.

While they chase Bark-E around the lab, Tony comes up behind you, slipping an arm around your waist and pulling you close.

“You like your surprise?” he murmurs, lips brushing your temple.

“I thought the robot was the surprise.”

“Oh, sweetheart. That’s the kids’ surprise.”

You tilt your head. “And mine?”

He smiles. That slow, wicked one. “You’ll see.”

But not yet. Not while the kids are riding Bark-E like a mechanical bull and trying to convince JARVIS to play Let It Go on loop over the speakers.

After about forty-five minutes, you pry the twins off the robot and promise ice cream at home if they behave on the way out. They do. Barely.

By the time dinner is done—chicken nuggets and mac and cheese, because parenting is survival—and the twins are finally tucked into bed, you’re drained. Exhausted. But also... alive. Somehow, despite the madness of the day, there’s a buzz under your skin that hasn’t gone away since Tony whispered in your ear at the lab.

You’re curled up on the couch, scrolling through emails you’ve already read three times, when you feel him behind you.

His hand slides over your shoulder, down your arm, then rests on your thigh. “They’re asleep.”

You glance up. “Are you sure?”

He leans down, mouth brushing your ear again. “I double-checked. They’re both snoring. Loudly.”

You turn your head slightly. “And you think that means we can just... sneak off and have a moment?”

“I don’t think,” he says, already pulling you to your feet. “I know.”

He leads you to the bedroom, slow and quiet, the way you used to sneak out of galas to find somewhere dark and private. The air shifts the second the door clicks shut. You barely get a word out before Tony’s lips are on yours—hungry, hot, and so very intentional.

“Shhh,” he whispers against your mouth when you let out a soft gasp, already tugging at the hem of your shirt. “We have to be quiet.”

You grin against his lips. “You saying I’m loud?”

He pauses, eyes gleaming. “Sweetheart, we broke the headboard last time.”

You laugh—and he kisses the sound right out of you, backing you toward the bed with that same eager, greedy energy that never seems to fade, no matter how long you’ve been his. Clothes fall away like a ceremony. Hands roam like they’re remembering. Reclaiming.

The sheets are cool beneath you, his skin hot and grounding above you. His mouth drags along your collarbone, your breast, your hip, before he settles where he knows you need him most.

You bite your lip, hard, to keep from making a sound.

“Good girl,” he whispers against your skin, teasing, adoring. “Just like that.”

His tongue moves with devastating precision, and your hands claw the sheets, toes curling, your body trembling as heat builds fast and sharp. You can’t help the little whimper that escapes—and he looks up immediately, smirking.

“You’re gonna get us caught.”

You glare down at him, breathless. “Then stop making me feel that good.”

“No can do, Mrs. Stark.”

And he doesn’t. He keeps going, patient and thorough and infuriatingly skilled. When he finally moves up your body, sliding into you in one slow, perfect stroke, your back arches and your fingers dig into his shoulders.

“Tony—”

“Shhh,” he breathes, forehead pressed to yours. “I got you. Just keep it quiet, baby.”

It’s slow. Intense. Torturously quiet.

You’re both holding back—moans swallowed in kisses, gasps muffled in the crook of his neck. Every movement is deliberate, every thrust a silent promise, every brush of his thumb against your clit driving you closer to that unbearable edge.

He mouths your name like a prayer when you come, your whole body shuddering under him. You bury your face in his shoulder to muffle the cry that wants to escape, and he follows moments later, breathing hard, hips stuttering as he releases deep inside you.

For a while, there’s only the sound of your hearts pounding and your breaths syncing up. Then Tony chuckles softly.

“I think we pulled it off.”

You hum sleepily. “Pretty sure Howard talks in his sleep. If he says something weird tomorrow, it’s on you.”

Tony kisses your temple. “I’ll take the blame. Always do.”

He pulls the blanket over both of you, tucking you into his arms like the world outside doesn’t exist.

And maybe, for now, it doesn’t.

Tony’s still catching his breath when you nudge him with your foot. He groans, face buried against your neck like a man defeated.

“Come on,” you whisper, threading your fingers through his hair. “We need to shower. And put on actual clothes.”

“We just reached post-coital bliss,” he mumbles. “What kind of monster are you?”

You laugh, gently pushing him off of you and rolling out of bed. “The kind of monster who knows our kids have a sixth sense for us being naked and vulnerable. If we don’t cover our tracks now, we’re getting interrogated at 6 AM.”

Tony groans louder, but he follows. Mostly because your naked backside is swaying just enough to motivate him.

“You’re so responsible,” he mutters as you tug him into the ensuite bathroom. “It’s unsettling.”

You turn on the shower, testing the temperature. “And you’re so irresponsible it’s amazing we haven’t been arrested for public indecency.”

“Twice,” he corrects, stepping in behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. “We have been arrested. Twice.”

“Right, and who sweet-talked their way out of it both times?”

Tony kisses your shoulder. “My hot, brilliant, morally flexible wife.”

You roll your eyes and lean back into him as the water pours over you both.

Of course, the “quick shower” turns into a slippery, steamy second round—because Tony Stark has zero self-control when your naked body is in arm’s reach and you’re laughing like that, cheeks flushed from the water and the way he touches you like you’re still the only thing in the universe that matters.

By the time you finally drag yourselves out of the shower and into pajamas—Tony in his unnecessarily tight sleep pants and a ridiculous Stark Industries tank top, you in one of his old shirts that practically hangs to your knees—it’s past midnight. The house is still. Blissfully quiet.

You collapse into bed, limbs tangled, hair damp, bodies finally at rest.

And for once… no interruptions.

Until morning.

At precisely 6:47 AM, the bedroom door flies open like a SWAT team raid, and the twins launch themselves into your bed like missiles.

“WAKE UUUUUP!” Nova yells, half on top of your stomach.

Howard dives for Tony, who lets out a strangled grunt as his son elbows him square in the ribs.

“Jesus—ow, okay, good morning, no need to attack the man, I’m delicate—”

“You said we could have pancakes today!” Howard declares, still perched on Tony like a feral cat.

Nova pulls the blanket off you both. “And cartoons! It’s Saturday!”

You blink blearily, groaning as Nova’s icy feet wedge themselves under your thigh.

Tony rubs his eyes and grins at the ceiling. “Why did we have children again?”

“Because we’re masochists,” you mutter.

“Right.”

It’s a typical Stark Saturday for a solid two minutes. Cartoons, demands for pancakes, squirming under the covers. But then Nova freezes suddenly, eyebrows scrunching like she’s solving a mystery.

“Wait… did anyone else hear weird noises last night?”

Tony’s eyes snap open.

Howard squints. “Yeah! Like… thumping. And then Mom made this sound like when you stub your toe but you’re trying not to yell?”

Your soul leaves your body.

“I—I stubbed my toe,” you say quickly. “Exactly. That’s… wow, good ears, buddy.”

Nova isn’t convinced. “And I think I heard Dad say something like ‘oh my god, yes’?”

Tony chokes on air. “That was—uh—I was watching a documentary! About—uh—quantum physics!”

You look at him like really? but he forges ahead with gusto.

“And there was this incredible experiment and I was very passionate about the outcome.”

Nova tilts her head. “Do quantum physics experiments make Mom giggle like that too?”

“Okay!” you say brightly, sitting up. “Time for pancakes! Who wants whipped cream?”

Howard narrows his eyes. “You never offer whipped cream unless you’re distracting us.”

You reach for your robe and sigh. “That’s because I’m always distracting you. It’s called parenting.”

Tony has his face buried in a pillow, quietly laughing like a man on the brink.

Nova crawls up beside him. “Dad. Are you giggling?”

“No, sweetie,” he says through the pillow. “I’m just emotionally overwhelmed by your curiosity.”

Howard frowns thoughtfully. “Do you think it’s ghosts?”

“YES,” Tony says quickly. “Yes. Our bedroom is haunted. That’s what you heard. Definitely ghosts.”

Nova gasps. “COOL.”

Howard’s eyes widen. “Can we set a trap?!”

You grab both their hands and pull them toward the door. “Only after breakfast. And cartoons. And not asking any more questions about last night. Ever. Again.”

They both nod solemnly.

Then Nova whispers to Howard, “I bet Mom and Dad were doing something weird.”

Howard nods sagely. “Yeah. Probably… like taxes.”

Tony leans close to you as you herd the twins out of the bedroom. “That was almost catastrophic.”

You shoot him a look. “Stark.”

He grins, eyes twinkling. “Yes, Mrs. Stark?”

You roll your eyes and turn back to the kids. “Alright, haunted pancakes it is.”

And somehow, despite the mortifying inquisition and suspicious glares from two seven-year-olds, it’s still the perfect kind of morning—chaotic, loud, absurd... and full of love.

Exactly what you signed up for when you married Tony Stark

The rest of Saturday is surprisingly smooth—almost suspiciously so.

You make pancakes. The kids watch cartoons. Tony pretends to “ghost hunt” with Nova using an old thermal scanner from the lab, while Howard builds a pillow fort so structurally sound it could probably withstand a mild earthquake. There are no tantrums, no glitter explosions, no emergency phone calls.

It’s just past lunch when it happens.

You’re sitting on the living room floor, helping Nova braid tiny ribbons into her dolls’ hair, when Howard suddenly looks up from his coloring book with that unsettlingly calm expression he inherited directly from his father—the one that usually means he’s about to ask something that will emotionally derail everyone in a five-mile radius.

“Hey Mom,” he says casually, like he’s asking what’s for dinner. “How did me and Nova come into the world?”

You freeze.

Like… freeze.

Tony, sitting on the couch across from you with a wrench in one hand and a half-disassembled Roomba in the other, slowly turns his head like a man who’s just been caught by a sniper scope.

You meet his eyes. You both silently panic.

Nova doesn’t even look up. “Yeah, I was wondering that too.”

Howard continues like he’s just hitting you with casual Sunday curiosity. “Did we come from a rocket? Or like… a lab?”

You blink. “A rocket?”

“Well, you and Dad are scientists,” he says, shrugging. “So maybe you built us. In the basement. With like, wires and lasers and science juice.”

Nova gasps. “I want science juice!”

Tony chokes. “There’s… there’s no such thing as science juice, baby.”

You clear your throat, trying to regain your footing in the rapidly spiraling conversation. “Okay, so—so first of all, no rockets. Or labs. You’re not robots. You’re not built.”

Howard’s eyes narrow. “So we weren’t assembled?”

“No.”

Tony jumps in. “You were... born. Like regular kids.”

Nova frowns. “How though?”

You and Tony both stare at her like she just asked how to dismantle a nuclear warhead.

Howard leans forward, totally serious. “Yeah. We know it involves, like… bellies. But how’d we get in there in the first place?”

There’s a beat of stunned silence where you mentally prepare to just hurl yourself off the balcony.

Tony puts down the Roomba and stands up like he’s giving a TED Talk. “Alright. So. Listen. This is… this is one of those very important questions that you absolutely deserve an answer to.”

You nod like a hostage. “Yup. Totally important. Super reasonable question.”

Tony points a finger upward, warming up. “But also one of those questions where the answer is like… a very complicated lasagna. With layers.”

Nova’s eyes light up. “I love lasagna!”

Howard looks confused. “What does lasagna have to do with babies?”

Tony continues, completely unfazed. “Well, the top layer—the cheesy, delicious layer—is the part you already know. Babies grow in a special place inside a mommy’s belly called a uterus. It’s like a deluxe baby hotel.”

You’re silently begging him not to keep going.

“And the next layer,” Tony says, gesturing like he's on a cooking show, “is how they get there, which involves… uh… teamwork. From both parents.”

You add quickly, “Teamwork. Loving, adult teamwork.”

Howard squints. “Like… like when you and Dad built the treehouse?”

“Yes!” you say way too fast. “Exactly like that! Teamwork, tools, and a lot of planning.”

Tony nods solemnly. “And some sweat. And maybe a splinter.”

Nova scrunches her nose. “Ew. That sounds messy.”

Howard tilts his head. “But how do you start building the baby?”

Tony glances at you. You glance at Tony. You both realize there’s no way out. So, you go for the parental classic:

“Well,” you say slowly, “when two adults love each other very much—”

Howard’s eyes go wide. “OH MY GOSH. You used magic didn’t you?!”

You nearly sigh in relief. “Yes! Magic. Science magic.”

Tony picks it right up. “Love-powered science magic. That’s exactly it.”

Nova gasps. “Is that why I sparkle when I dance?”

Tony beams. “Absolutely, sweetheart. Full of sparkle DNA.”

Howard looks impressed. “So you and Mom did love-magic teamwork… and then BAM! We happened?”

You clap your hands. “Boom. Nailed it.”

They both nod slowly, processing. And then—just like that—Nova goes back to brushing her doll’s hair and Howard starts coloring again like he didn’t just casually nuke your day with a conversation worthy of wine and therapy.

You exhale, flopping back onto the carpet. Tony collapses beside you a second later.

“That was too close,” you whisper.

“Too close? That was war,” he mutters. “I barely survived the ‘splinter’ metaphor.”

“I hate you for that, by the way.”

He smirks. “You laughed.”

You sigh, reaching over to lace your fingers through his. “I can’t believe we’ve got another ten years of this.”

Tony grins. “Ten years? Sweetheart, we’re gonna be explaining puberty in holograms by then.”

You groan and bury your face in his shoulder.

Nova looks up from across the room. “Do you think babies fart inside the belly?”

You both groan.

Tony whispers, “We’re not gonna make it.”

---

It’s Tony’s idea.

Which should automatically raise red flags. But he’s lounging back on the couch, one arm draped behind you, the other absently spinning a screwdriver between his fingers like a fidget toy, and he says it so casually you almost don’t catch the trap.

“Let’s go out tonight.”

You pause mid-sip of your coffee. “Out… like out where?”

He shrugs. “Nice dinner. Fancy restaurant. Kids can wear shoes that aren’t Velcro. You can wear that red dress that makes me forget my name.”

Nova, sitting upside down on the armchair, perks up. “Can I wear glitter?!”

Howard glances over. “Are we allowed to go to fancy places? We’re loud.”

Tony waves a hand. “We’re Starks. We can go anywhere we want.”

You raise a brow. “That’s exactly the kind of energy that gets us kicked out of places.”

But the idea lingers. It’s been a while since you dressed up for something that wasn’t a gala or charity event or chaos-fueled tech conference. The thought of slipping into something silk and elegant, seeing Tony in a blazer that hugs just right, the kids actually clean and styled and not covered in suspicious playground gunk…

Yeah. You’re in.

Two hours later, the chaos of getting ready is in full swing.

Howard insists on wearing a tie, which turns into a twenty-minute battle against a YouTube tutorial and an uneven knot. Nova is determined to wear glitter tights under her dress, and after some negotiation, you allow it—because she istechnically wearing a dress and real shoes. Progress.

Meanwhile, you slip into the closet, closing the door behind you. The red dress Tony mentioned still hangs in the far corner, mostly untouched since your anniversary dinner last year. It’s sleek, figure-hugging, with a slit up the leg and a neckline that toes the line between elegance and hello there.

You slide it on. It fits like sin.

The door creaks open behind you without warning, and you don’t have to turn around to know it’s him.

There’s a low whistle. “Sweetheart.”

You glance at him over your shoulder. “Too much?”

Tony’s leaning in the doorway, wearing a black suit with the top two buttons of his shirt undone, no tie, blazer cut to absolute perfection. His eyes rake down your body like he’s seeing you for the first time again.

“If we didn’t have kids waiting downstairs,” he says, voice low and already dangerous, “I would lock that door and make you very, very late to dinner.”

You smirk, smoothing your hands down the front of the dress. “We do have kids waiting.”

“I know,” he groans, stepping forward and sliding his arms around your waist from behind. “Why do we have kids again?”

“Because your ego and my hormones teamed up.”

He laughs, presses a kiss to the curve of your shoulder, and lets his hands wander a little lower than strictly appropriate for the timeframe. “I love this dress. It should be illegal.”

“You say that every time I wear it.”

“And I mean it every time.”

You manage to escape his hands with a playful swat and make it back downstairs, where the twins are already posing dramatically like they’re attending the Oscars.

“Do we look rich enough?” Nova asks seriously.

Howard adjusts his slightly crooked tie. “I feel like I should own a company.”

Tony grins. “You do. It’s called Starklings, Inc. Specializing in mischief and luxury fruit snacks.”

The restaurant is upscale, candlelit, absurdly elegant—and predictably swarmed by paparazzi the second your car pulls up.

Tony slips out first, offers you a hand like a proper gentleman, and then lifts Nova from the car while Howard walks out like he’s been doing red carpets since birth. You’re met with the familiar onslaught of camera flashes and distant shouts:

“Mr. Stark! Over here—!”

“Is that your family?”

“Mrs. Stark, you look amazing—!”

Tony keeps one hand at the small of your back, the other protectively on Howard’s shoulder. The flashes bounce off his sunglasses, and he leans in close enough for you to feel his grin against your cheek.

“You’re the hottest person here.”

You elbow him gently. “You say that to distract me.”

“I say that because it’s true. And I’m trying very hard not to get handsy in front of the photographers.”

You glance down. His hand has, indeed, slid lower than is publicly acceptable.

“Tony.”

He corrects himself with a smirk and guides you all inside.

Once you’re at the table—a private booth with a view of the skyline—things settle into a surprisingly cozy rhythm. The kids order mocktails with extra cherries. You sip wine. Tony keeps sliding his foot along your ankle under the table like a man with zero shame and absolutely no concern for consequences.

You give him a warning glance.

He winks.

Nova draws a robot on her napkin and tells the waiter she’s going to build one that serves spaghetti. Howard eats his fancy grilled salmon with ketchup. Tony doesn’t stop looking at you the entire night, his hand always somewhere—your knee, your thigh, your lower back when you gets up to help Nova with the bathroom.

It’s subtle. Kind of.

Okay, not subtle at all. But it’s him.

As dessert is being cleared—Nova covered in chocolate mousse and Howard bargaining for another bite of your crème brûlée—Tony leans over and murmurs, “If I don’t get to unzip that dress tonight, I’m going to have a full-blown existential crisis.”

You smile sweetly. “Guess you’ll have to wait until the kids are asleep.”

He groans into his wine glass.

On the ride home, both kids fall asleep in the backseat—Howard drooling slightly, Nova curled up with a strand of her glitter tights stretched over her face like a superhero mask.

You rest your hand on Tony’s thigh as he drives. He glances at you, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Best idea I’ve had all month.”

“Dinner?”

“Taking you out. Watching you walk around in that dress. Being reminded exactly how lucky I am.”

You hum, squeezing his leg just enough to make him shift in his seat.

“I hope you’re planning on making good on that zipper promise.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “That zipper’s already living on borrowed time.”

And somehow, amidst the glamour and chaos, the spark still feels as new and electric as it did before kids, before marriage, before anything was certain.

Even when the car smells like mousse, and one of the kids is softly snoring like a chainsaw.

You glance at Tony.

Yeah. You’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

The second the car pulls into the garage and the twins are carefully extracted from the backseat—sleepy, grumpy, sticky with melted chocolate—Tony gives you a look.

The Look.

The one that promises that the minute tiny people are unconscious in their beds, you're going to be very, very thoroughly reminded about the zipper situation.

You smirk back at him, both of you speaking silently across the car hood like spies.

Step one: Get kids to bed. Step two: Lose the fancy clothes. Step three: Absolutely wreck the newly washed sheets.

Easy. Foolproof.

You both move like a synchronized tactical unit. Pajamas, teeth brushing, wiping faces, untangling glitter tights. Nova mutters something about robot spaghetti in her half-sleep. Howard insists he doesn't need help but still manages to put his pajama pants on backward.

You're barely containing your laughter as you herd them toward their rooms, exchanging conspiratorial glances with Tony every few seconds.

“Alright, you gremlins,” Tony says, crouching down dramatically. “Tonight, you sleep in your own beds like champions. Like grown-up, sophisticated individuals who can eat grilled salmon with ketchup.”

Howard yawns and salutes. Nova mumbles something incoherent and shuffles to her bed like a zombie.

You and Tony high-five behind their backs.

Victory is so close.

You tuck them in, kiss their foreheads, tiptoe toward the door…

And then.

“Wait!”

Howard bolts upright like he’s just remembered a critical world-saving mission. Nova follows, wide-eyed and alarmed.

“We want to sleep in your bed!” Howard blurts.

“Yeah!” Nova clutches her stuffed unicorn with the force of a thousand suns. “Your bed is bigger! And fluffier! And it smells like cookies and Dad's weird soap!”

You and Tony freeze mid-step. Like deer. Caught. In existential-crisis headlights.

Tony clears his throat. “Buddy, we love you. But your mom and I were planning some very important... adult... lying-down activities.”

You elbow him sharply. "Tony."

Howard pouts. Nova’s lower lip quivers.

"We miss family sleep nights," Howard says, voice small.

Nova sniffs. “You used to let us sleep with you.”

Your heart cracks a little. Okay. That's not fair. They're pulling the nostalgia card and they're doing it well.

Tony runs a hand through his hair like he’s being physically pained by the loss of his plans. He looks at you. You look at him.

Surrender.

You sigh dramatically. “Fine. One night.”

Both kids explode in victorious cheers.

“But—" Tony holds up a finger, still clinging to scraps of authority, "—if we’re doing this, we’re doing it right.”

Which is how you end up raiding the matching pajama drawer—yes, Tony insisted on having one made years ago—and soon all four of you are decked out in ridiculous, soft, Stark-family matching pajamas: little arc reactors printed on the shirts and "Team Stark" on the pants.

You all pile into the giant bed in a mass of limbs and giggles and pillows. Nova immediately claims Tony, curling against his side with her unicorn jammed between them. Howard stakes his claim on you, plopping himself firmlyagainst your chest and wrapping an arm possessively over your torso.

Tony tries—tries—to edge closer to you, stretching out an arm, wriggling his fingers in your direction with the saddest, most dramatic look of longing.

Howard narrows his eyes and shoves Tony’s face away with one tiny but determined hand.

"Mine," he mumbles sleepily.

You clap a hand over your mouth to muffle your laughter.

Tony blinks at you over Howard’s stubborn little head, looking personally betrayed. He mouths, This is war.

You smile sweetly, mouthing back, You lost.

He pouts for about five seconds before Nova wiggles closer and pats his cheek comfortingly. “Don’t worry, Daddy. You can have cuddles too.”

Tony surrenders with a groan, wrapping his arms around Nova and the unicorn, glaring at you playfully over the tops of both their heads.

You wink at him.

For a few minutes, the room settles. The twins drift off quickly, soft breathing and little twitches as they tumble into deep sleep. The low hum of the city outside fills the background.

You shift slightly, trying not to wake Howard, and meet Tony’s eyes in the soft dark.

He mouths, You owe me.

You mouth back, Tomorrow night.

He grins like Christmas just came early.

For now, though—you lay there, Howard snuggled against you like a koala, Nova draped across Tony like he’s a human jungle gym, the warmth of your family a soft, heavy comfort around you.

Tony reaches out across the tiny bodies between you, brushing the tips of his fingers against yours in the middle of the bed.

Connection. Even through chaos.

You squeeze his fingers gently and close your eyes, feeling him do the same.

Maybe the night didn’t go exactly the way you planned.

But honestly?

It’s kind of perfect.

part 2 with them trying for another kid? or something else? let me know in the asks ;)

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kirain · 2 months ago

Text

Part nine of my appreciation project.

@riadoodles A fic based on their wonderful art piece here. Thank you for feeding the fandom!

Dawn's laughter rang across the frosted clearing, echoing with Bellara's giggles as they packed more snow around Manfred's skeletal frame. The young wisp wriggled his fingers, vibrating with excitement as the two elves worked diligently to fashion him into the perfect snowman.

"Looking good, buddy!" Dawn leaned back, admiring their creation. "You're going to be the most dashing snowman in all of Thedas."

Manfred gave an enthusiastic hiss, waving his bony hands as Bellara smoothed the edges.

A few feet away, Emmrich stood beside Neve, both sipping steaming cups of hot chocolate. The rich scent of cinnamon and cocoa curled in the crisp air, calming and delightful.

"If we were in Minrathous," Neve said, amused as she glanced at the scene before them, "we'd be at the Proving Grounds, watching the tournaments."

Emmrich exhaled, his breath visible in the cold. "If we were in Nevarra, we'd be at a grand feast, giving thanks to the Maker and convening with festive spirits."

The two fell silent as Manfred let out another pleased hiss, wiggling in his snowy encasement.

"This is far better," Neve chuckled.

"I couldn't agree more. There's no greater joy than celebrating Wintersend in the company of those dearest to your heart."

"Speaking of," Neve frowned, "why aren't Davrin, Esha, and Lucanis out here?"

A fair question. Taash and Harding had returned home for the holidays, but the rest of them remained at the Lighthouse.

Emmrich smiled behind his mug. "Well, Davrin needed a much-deserved break from Dawn."

"Understandable," she tittered.

"As for Esha and Lucanis, I did invite them." He shrugged. "But they said they had to practice their sparring."

Neve raised an eyebrow. "In the pantry?"

Emmrich choked on his drink, cheeks flushing pink as the implication hit him. Before he could respond to Neve's knowing smirk, Dawn called his name.

"Hey, Emmrich! Check it out!"

Relieved for the distraction, Emmrich quickly finished his beverage and made his way towards them. As he stepped closer, he watched as Dawn added the finishing touches to his masterpiece, and his blush deepened. Despite his best efforts, he found himself staring at Dawn's hands—slender, steady, always teasing, always touching him in ways that made his breath hitch.

"Manfred looks so cute!" Bellara clapped, pulling the older man from his lecherous thoughts.

"He does," Emmrich nodded. "Thank you both so much for spending time with him. I know he appreciates it."

Dawn waved him off. "Please, it's fun hanging with Manfred. Especially since he's such—"

"Hot! Shit!" Manfred declared, too innocent to understand the words.

The moment froze.

Emmrich's jaw dropped.

Dawn winced.

"You're dead," Bellara squeaked, stifling a laugh.

Dawn took one look at Emmrich's scandalised expression—and bolted.

"Dawn!" Emmrich screeched.

But he'd already vanished into the trees.

Emmrich gave chase, his voice carrying through the forest. "Get back here! We need to talk about what you're teaching him!"

"Not my fault he picks up only the best words!" Dawn called back.

Emmrich scoffed in exasperation, scanning the woods as he lost sight of the slippery elf.

"Dawn, come here! I'm being serious!"

Suddenly, a snowball struck him square in the back of the head.

Emmrich staggered, blinking in shock. As he whirled around, he spotted Dawn standing atop a powdery hill, his scarf tied around his head like a kerchief.

"Avast, landlubber!" he grinned. "Ye dare challenge Captain Dawn the Dread?"

Emmrich groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Oh, for the love of... get down from there! And wear your scarf properly, before you catch ill!"

"Only if ye be man enough to best me in combat!" Dawn yelled, striking a blusterous pose, his arms akimbo.

Before Emmrich could protest, another snowball whacked him in the shoulder.

That was it.

His brow twitching, the older mage raised his hands, and with a flick of his wrist, the air above Dawn shimmered before a pile of snow crashed down on top of him, burying him in an instant.

"Okay—!" A muffled yelp sounded from beneath the heap. "That wasn't fair."

Dawn surfaced, spluttering snow.

"Need I remind you that you started this?" Emmrich smirked.

And just like that, it was war. Snowballs flew like cannon fire, both men ducking and dodging, laughter mingling with Dawn's exaggerated pirate dialogue. They battled like titans of the sea, until finally, Emmrich struck Dawn in the chest.

"Ugh! A fatal blow..." he rasped, clutching the spot dramatically. "You... were a worthy opponent, Captain Volkarin." He stumbled back, collapsing into the snow. "Go forth. Find all the treasure in Thedas... and prosper."

Emmrich rolled his eyes, but a chuckle escaped him nonetheless. Seeing Dawn sprawled out on the ground, feigning injury—he couldn't cling to his irritation, not even for Manfred's sake. He would save the lecture for later.

For now, there was only one thing he wanted.

Without a word, he pulled Dawn to his feet, the snow crunching beneath his boots. Then, with a slow yet suggestive tug, he unravelled the scarf from Dawn's head and wrapped it around his neck—warming him, protecting him from the frigid breeze.

With that kind, intimate gesture, the air between them shifted. Dawn, still breathless from laughter and revelry, glanced up at him with a confident smirk—yet in the golden depths of his eyes, Emmrich caught a flicker of vulnerability.

His fingers lingered at the edge of Dawn's scarf, his thumb grazing the temptatious curve of his throat.

"I've already found my treasure," he whispered.

Dawn gasped, his hands zipping to Emmrich's shoulders as he was suddenly dipped backwards. The motion stole the air from his lungs—not from fear, but from the sheer certainty in Emmrich's hold, the strength in his arms, the way his gaze burned with something fierce and unwavering.

Then, Emmrich kissed him.

A languid press of lips, heat rushing through them as they savoured the taste, the nearness, the reprieve from the cold. And Dawn—always impatient, always desperate for more—slid his fingers through Emmrich's hair, drawing him closer. The gentle touch sent a shiver of ecstasy down the older man's spine, his heart pounding wildly.

"Keep going..." Dawn begged.

The kiss grew hungrier, his arms curling around Emmrich's neck, and Emmrich groaned, firming his grip in response. Slowly, his tongue traced the seam of Dawn's lips, slipping inside to devour every moan, every whimper, every delicious glide of his tongue.

"Mmm..."

The elf arched further, utterly consumed by it. By him. Emmrich gave, and Dawn took, playfully nipping his lip whenever he could, eager to match his intensity. But Emmrich was older, more experienced. Every deep stroke, every possessive squeeze of his hands was envigorating—a reminder that when they were together, Dawn didn't need to impress nor be in control.

He could simply indulge.

When Emmrich pulled away, it just enough to murmur, "You're a menace."

"You love it," Dawn wheezed, his cheeks glowing a telling shade of red.

"Maker help me, I do."

Dawn smiled, his body loose and trusting in Emmrich's grasp. "Happy holidays, Emmy," he purred.

"Happy holidays, Dawn," he sighed, his eyes shimmering with desire.

As the sun sank below the horizon, flakes of snow drifted from the sky, melting against their skin. They knew they should return, that the others would be waiting, but Emmrich wasn't ready to let go. He kissed Dawn again, thanking him for the way he cherished Manfred, for the joy he brought to those around him—and vowing that he would never abandon him.

There was no rush, no world beyond this quiet, perfect moment. Just them, defying winter with their fervent embrace.

#emmrich volkarin #emmrook #rook x emmrich #veilguard #dragon age the veilguard #da: the veilguard #emmrich x rook #dragon age #fan fiction #fic #manfred #bellara lutare #neve gallus

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divinelolita · 10 months ago

Note

need more hard dom Tom x m!reader 🙏like readers being a brat n gets punished..🤤🤤

TOM KAULITZ X BRAT MALE! READER

cw: bondage, degradation, brat tamer! tom, bratty! reader, spanking, fingering, mentions of overstimulation, edging, brief mention of a 'sir kink'

a/n: hii! 😸 im too lazy to write aftercare but i promise you'd get the most ethereal, breathtaking, awesome aftercare from tom 🙏🏼🤗

"Baby, what on earth is going on with you today?"

Tom's exasperated voice echoed in your head as you both sat at a café table, Tom's cup of hot coffee whispering streams of smoke as he took a small sip.

You were...extremely difficult today. You were acting so rude, childish, and overall just a huge brat! He didn't understand...you were almost never like this. When you didn't immediately answer, your bottom lip sticking out further, he let out a small hum.

"Hmm? Answer me. I know you heard me." He demanded softly, watching your eyebrows furrow as you let out a little whine. He took in a deep inhale, he could feel the frustration and anger building up inside him. Lord, all he wanted was an answer.

When you kicked his leg under the table a little, he hissed softly in pain, his jaw clenching a little. Your pout almost faltered into a smirk, you knew you were getting on his nerves now!

"...I'm getting impatient, angel. Please, tell me what-" He began slowly, a hint of warning in his voice. He softly reached over the table to try to grasp your hand. His eyes widened a little as you swatted his hand away, followed by a, "Shut up!"

Oh. Oh.

"...that's it. Get in the fucking car." Tom ground out as he slammed his coffee mug on the table, little splatters of the beverage falling on the table as he stood up and stalked over to his car, starting it up. Your lips quirked into a small smile, it worked. But at what cost...

"You think you can act like that? Huh? I guess I have to knock some fuckin' respect in you."

Tom huffed as his hands roughly gripped your hips, pulling them to you were laying over his lap. You whined, hands struggling against the bindings on your wrists that were connected to the bedpost. You swallowed shakily, you couldn't see him. You didn't know what to prepare for!

"Stupid little slut...you just had to piss me off, huh?"

He murmured, moreso to himself as he firmly pressed down on your lower back, causing your thighs to tremble and for your ass to raise up in the air ever so slightly.

You yelped as a sharp, harsh spank was landed across your ass, a painful burn spreading across your skin as it turned a bright pink hue. You whimpered loudly as you squirmed in Tom's lap, yet his strong, large hand firmly took hold of your hip.

"Uh-uh. Bad boy. Stay still." He demanded as he left another harsh swat against your already burning flesh, making you yelp. Your thighs shook as you felt a familiar throbbing in your lower abdomen.

"Sir.." You hiccuped quietly. You felt his strong hand sliely massage your throbbing ass before he plants another smack over your cheek, yet it's softer than the past two.

The smacks continued until you were a sobbing mess in his lap, squirming and whimpering , repeating "I'msorryI'msorryI'msorry" or "I won't do it again!" under your breath between sobs.

"I got'cha." He whispered quietly, his soft words instantly relaxing your tensed muscles. You tried to look over your shoulder as you heard a bottle lid pop, yet he tugged on your hair roughly back around. You whimpered, yet obeyed. What choice did you have?

You gasped as you felt a thick, cold finger gently run up and down your hole, circling it slowly before pushing in. A painful yet pleasurable spark ran through you as his lubed finger slowly pushed inside, a small whine escaping your lips.

He hummed, placing a small kiss to your plump ass as he began to croon his long finger inside you, trying to find the spot that has you writhing against him. When his calloused fingertip eventually found the spongy material of your prostate, your whole body jerked as you nearly screamed.

"There- right there, sir!" You pleaded as your hands cxlenched into fists against the ropes around your wrists. You heard him chuckle behind you softly, you could practically hear the smirk on his voice.

"Such a needy whore..." He whispered as he squirted a little more lube over your hole before pressing a second finger in. He smirked as he heard you hiss, the sting burning yet so euphoric feeling at the same time. His thick, long digits began to curl inside you, fingertips rubbing your prostate with expert precision.

You were sobbing loudly, hips grinding desperatley into Tom's lap as he fingered you, it felt so fucking good! You felt a knot tie in your stomach, your prostate throbbing roughly against Tom's fingers.

As soon as he felt you begin to clench down on his fingers, he quickly pulled them out of your tight hole. He laughed quietly as you whined and gasped at the loss, crying loudly as you hiccuped.

"Awh...my poor baby. Only good boys can cum, and you have to prove you should be able to...have you sobbing in my lap begging to cum, like the pathetic little thing you are."

He purred, raising a firm eyebrow. "Or maybe that's exactly what I'll do. Have you cum over and over until you're a dumb, drooling mess. Doesn't that sound fun?"

He cooed as his slick fingers slowly pushed back inside you. You gasped, whining as your hips bucked. You wondered which punishment rout Tom would go down...

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h8aaz · 3 months ago

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⋆ ࣪. — HOT COCOA — .࣪ ⋆

SUMMARY .ᐟ . . . you and sam make hot cocoa on a chilly day.

WARNINGS .ᐟ . . . none besides an established relationship . just good, loving fluff with sammy .

GABS YAPS .ᐟ . . . omg tysm for the love on my blueberry!sam post!! hopefully y'all like this, it came to mind literally bc i was drinking hot cocoa lol. likes, comments, + reblogs are very appreciated!! <33.

the wind blew against the two of you, sam's hand grasped firmly on your waist due to the 'chance that you might fly away', he excused.

you shivered from the cold and chilly air. you hugged yourself tighter into your sweater while leaning into your boyfriend's warmth. you heard him let out a soft chuckle at your state, which was immediately silenced at the pain of your punch to his side.

"shut up!" you scolded, though no actual anger lingered in your words. the two of you made it to the store by your shared apartment, immediately breaking free of sam's hand to run down the aisles.

"they're not gonna run away from you, y'know that, right?" sam smiled as he followed right behind you, watching you frantically grab a pack of marshmallows then circle around to another aisle in search of your favorite chocolate.

"you never know. i mean, with the shit we fight off every week, moving food doesn't seem too farfetched." you countered his tease while he nodded in fair agreement. "okay, but they aren't doing that now so," he grabbed the stacked chocolate bars out of your arms, snatching the ones your grabby hands were gripping as well. "let's not take their whole stock, yeah?"

you huffed as he put the sweet treats back into their box on the shelf, keeping two in his large hand. "see?" he waved them around, "better, right, baby?" he grinned while his puppy-dog eyes were on display.

"yeah, yeah, whatever." you grumbled, caving into his act. "can we pay and go now? the sooner we're home and out of the cold, the better." you grabbed onto his free hand, dragging him to the counter.

after paying and making the devastating speed-walk back to your apartment, sam unlocked the door to let you in. you frantically kicked off your shoes with a pleased sigh; taking in the warmth that the heater brought to your cozy place, a content smile playing on your lips. "thank god." you whispered.

sam had closed the door and locked it before taking off his shoes with a full grin. "feel good, baby?" he asked out with a small laugh as you simply nodded your head.

"y'know what would make it better?" you jokingly questioned back, being met with a hum. "a hot mug filled with delicious melted chocolate topped with marshmallows." you said as you walked towards him, slowly wrapping your arms around his torso. he stared down at you, your smile beaming up at him and making his heart clench at the adorableness you held.

he engulfed you in his arms as he began to lean down. "sounds perfect to me." he replied before placing a soft kiss onto your lips, being met with an equally gentle, yet slightly rough manner. 'i just love kissing you!' is what you'd say before kissing him so eagerly, it quickly turns into something more heated.

the two of you pulled away and began the process. sam taking out your mugs from the cupboard, you heating milk up on the stove, a movie already set up on the tv, and the dimmed lamps illuminating the apartment in warm, fuzzy lighting. sam broke the chocolate into pieces as you plopped an even amount into both mugs, stirring them until they were fully melted into the hot milk.

both you and sam topped your drinks with marshmallows before picking the mugs up and clinking them with smiles. you began to sip your hot cocoa, immediately letting out a squeal while sam laughed at you.

"OW! oh my god- that's so hot! why is it so hot?!" you shouted while sam doubled over. "stop! it's not funny, sam!" you shoved him lightly as to not spill his beverage. "i'm- hah- i'm sorry, honey, it's just-" he bellowed another laugh before catching his breath, "it's just that your face was so funny!"

"shut up! ugh, i hate you." you turned to make your way to the couch, settling down and draping a blanket over you.

"awh, baby, don't be like that." sam followed. "you know you love me." he leaned over from his new spot on the couch to kiss your cheek, pulling some of the blanket onto himself.

"mhm." you hummed in a sassy manner before sighing and turning to him, "i do. i love you." you said, seeing his eyes practically light up while he was sipping his hot cocoa.

"i'll never get tired of hearing you say it." he sighed happily. "and i love you too." he smiled before kissing you, you gladly reciprocating.

both of you turned your attention to the movie afterwards, laughing and talking about certain parts all while enjoying your fresh hot cocoas.

#gabs ⛤ writes .ᐟ #sam winchester #supernatural #sam winchester x female reader #sam winchester x reader #supernatural fluff #sam winchester x you #sam winchester fic #sam winchester fluff #fem reader #female reader #f!reader #supernatural fic #supernatural x reader #supernatural x you #divider creds — vysleix #divider creds — adornedwithlight #© 𝐇𝟖𝐀𝐀𝐙

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milkymora · 2 months ago

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blue hour. ellie williams x f!reader.

✧ it’s your birthday and ellie has planned a cozy movie night just for the two of you in a house outside jackson.

✧ wc: 629. genre: fluff & suggestive (sfw). tlou navigation.

the sound of wet twigs and brenches cracking within the fireplace mixed with the noise of the tv, that was displaying one of the movies ellie picked for the two of you.

it was a cold winter’s evening, the sun had just disappeared behind the mountains in the horizon outside the big window next the couch you were sat on, the orangy colors slowly fading into cooler shades that colored the white walls around you of a pretty indigo.

there was a mild rain tapping on the roof’s tiles too, signing the beginning of the night you’ve been daydreaming about since weeks, months maybe.

you inhale the sweet smell of hot cocoa, holding the mug with both hands to warm your palms up, before taking a short sip of the beverage and pleasingly sigh at its delightful taste.

your nape goes to rest against ellie’s shoulder, making yourself more comfortable on her lap and inside the fuzzy blanket your bodies were wrapped with.

tilting your head more into the crook of her neck, your eyelids close; the rhythm of her heartbeats calms you down so much you’re not sure you’re gonna make it to the end of the movie.

“ellie,” you whisper, lifing your chin of a couple inches to peck her jaw, then her neck.

her slim fingers travel on your thigh, thumbs occasionally drawing circles on them, returning the goosebumps you gave her to you. “mh?” she hums.

“i’m really questioning your tastes right now.” you chuckle, before feeling her breath tickling your ear as her mouth touches your cheek. “what the hell is this movie?” you add with another chuckle, this time a little louder than the previous one.

“a piece made only for the sharpest minds. it’s normal you don’t get it.” her witty reply makes you pose the still steaming mug on the little table her feet are resting on, just to grab a cushion from the other side of the couch and suddenly hit her face with it.

“say that again, i dare you.” your offended tone is betrayed by the smile that runs your face from ear to ear, that widens up even more after hearing her muffled laughter. “you can’t be nice to me even on my birthday, aren’t you ashamed of yourself?” you hit her one more time. “you should be.”

ellie doesn’t stop laughing for a good moment, using her arms to cover her face from all the knocks you keep giving her– not until she snatches the object away from your grip, pushing your back against the couch and straddling you, holding you still on the spot with her hands. “i’ll never be ashamed of being a lil’ mean. especially if you like it.”

her low tone sends a shiver down your spine, although many more come when her face drops down towards yours, tilting to the right, lips meeting yours.

the smooch of your lips detaching makes you red, green eyes looking right into you with that little smirk that makes your thighs rub against each other every time.

“so, birthday girl,” she begins, you giving her full attention. “since the movie isn’t of your liking,” voicing this part a bit bitterly, “wanna do something else?”

“like what?” you barely give her time to finish her question, dilated pupils gazing her up and down.

noticing the familiar flickering in your eyes, her smirk comes back. she eyes the tv, then you. you see her lose her gaze in a spot on the floor for an instant, biting the inside of her cheek, seemingly pondering.

“tomorrow’s monday. we’re on patrol.” she tries, “whose birthday is it?” you deadpan. “you hinted it. now i want it.” you add.

“better not hear you complaining ’bout sore legs tomorrow morning then.”

#tlou #tlou 2 #tlou ellie #ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie x y/n #ellie x you #tlou one shot #they’re watching sharknado btw #✧ mora’s tlou.

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bookworm-with-coffee · 5 months ago

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Just a Kiss This Christmas. . . 🎄☃️

(Christmas Eve with Your Faves - Assassin's Creed III, Rogue and Syndicate Edition)

Plot; Little Christmas themed comfort imagines

Pairings;

Haytham Kenway x Reader (Romantic)

Connor Kenway (Ratonhnhaké:ton) x Reader (Romantic)

Shay Cormac x Reader (Romantic)

Liam O'Brien x Reader (Romantic)

Jacob Frye x Reader (Romantic)

Evie Frye x Reader (Romantic)

Lydia Frye x Reader (Romantic)

Warnings; mature themes, tooth-rotting fluff, a pinch of angst here and there, implied smut, mentions of alcohol/alcohol consumption, mentions of war/warzones and violence

_______________________________________

Haytham Kenway

Outside the fogged windows, gentle snowfall was on display. Winds rustled the trees and laughter echoed in the streets.

Houses lined the roads, warmed with crackling fires and the mirth of togetherness and peace. Taverns bustled with those celebrating the coming of what was considered the best holiday of the year, cheerful music floating in the chill of the winter air.

The perfect Christmas Eve.

Your heart was soaring, not sparing a care to the coldness of the floorboards and tiling beneath your feet; finding yourself warmed by the fires of the oven.

The smell of spices floated through the halls of your home, your freshly baked gingerbread now cooling on a rack. It was an effort not to pull the scalding biscuits from the metal, to devour them immediately; but your focus on your brewing hot chocolate stole any chance of impulse.

Your lips curled up at the lightly thickened milk, stirring at your homemade concoction. Now having the desired consistency, you poured the rich beverage into two mugs, sparing a look over your shoulder.

A sigh passed through your nostrils, spying the time displayed on the wall clock. Thirty minutes past the ninth hour. With a soft loneliness tugging at your heart, you pondered how much longer it would be until Haytham retreated from his office.

Templar affairs had kept him occupied for many days and hours throughout the holiday season, as to be expected when being the Grandmaster of the Colonial. But, you knew that Christmas was one of the few occasions Haytham liked, also aware of how easily time got away from him when occupied with work. He had already missed the Templar Christmas Eve party over in the local tavern, but he would not miss an evening with you. Christmas Eve, especially.

Templar business be damned. It was up to you to save him from his undoubtedly large workload.

The hot chocolate would undoubtedly be a convincing point. Aside from yourself, of course.

Already in your nightdress, you discarded your apron and threw on your winter robes for your journey upstairs, baring an almost giddy smile whilst you climbed them.

You spied the dim lights from under the wooden door, moving to open it without knocking. "Grandmaster", you announced yourself, his head raising from the piles of parchment littered on his desk. His piercing blues were on you in an instant, already tracing over your approaching form with a cocked brow.

"You have not called me by that title since the days before our courtship", Haytham remarked with some amusement, the corners of his lips faintly curling upward. "And even then, you had little regard for it".

"What makes you think that has changed?", you quipped with a laugh. "I had to get your attention somehow. My baking clearly wasn't enough".

His smile grew at your ploy of feigning hurt, your eyes drifting to the words upon the papers. Correspondences from all corners of the world, all of them bearing the seal of the Templars. Did no one in the Order celebrate Christmas??

"My deepest apologies", Haytham crooned with the licks of playful sarcasm dancing in his velvet voice. "However will I make up for such an indiscretion?".

With mischief twinkling in your keen eyes, you grinned, lifting the hem of your nightdress to allow yourself to be seated upon and stradling his larger thighs.

Haytham's quill and papers were long forgotten as his warm hands moved to hold your waist, fingers tracing imaginary patterns into the thin materials separating you both and heating the skin beneath.

Admiration glittered in the depths of his gaze as it trailed over the cascading waves of your hair and the supple skin left exposed by your strappy nightdress and robes, those eyes no longer harsh or commanding. No longer the eyes of the Grandmaster everyone else knew.

There was a softness and vulnerability to Haytham's hues now, clearly displaying his contentment in being trapped within your embrace. A deep sigh expelled from him, relishing in the way your delicate fingers spindled into his silken locks and drew lines over his chest. "Can you think of nothing?", your words were a murmur over his skin, setting it alight with goosebumps.

With his tired eyes now closed, your lips pressed featherlight kisses to his heavy eyelids, his arms pulling you flush against his chest. Descending the curviture of his face, your lips finally met with his own in soft and lazy caresses.

Haytham's hands moved to cradle your face, his tongue drawing along the seam of your lips before they parted eagerly. Your hips shifted against his own in your attempt to get closer, a soft grunt heaving from the Grandmaster's throat and sparking his next course of action.

A small yelp passed through your interlocked lips when the Master Templar heaved you from his lap and onto his desk, the piling letters now sweeping to the floor to accommodate your presence.

Your body arched into his frame, his lips tearing from your own to start leaving a searing trail along your jaw.

"I can think of something ", he mused, pressing his hips into your own.

"Haytham!", you giggled, his skillful touches never failing to leave you weak and at his mercy. "What about the hot chocolate??".

Haytham's low chuckle was a breath against the skin of your neck. "I think you'll find that I have other priorities", his voice remained a sultry whisper, slowly working affectionate pecks towards your naval. "Starting with you ".

♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡

Connor Kenway / Ratonhnhaké:ton

"Connor, my friend!", Norris greeted the young Assassin, tipsy with the few drinks he'd had. But, he was a merry man, deep in the high spirits of the holiday season. It was Christmas Eve, after all.

"Norris", he nodded in acknowledgement, sparing the hints of a smile for his friend, the latter having spied the direction in which the younger man's almond hues had fixated.

With a cheerful smile that reached his eyes, the miner brushed his elbow against Connor's, "Your eyes bore into a beautiful woman, and yet you waste the night lingering here in the shadows instead of talking to her".

Connor's cheeks grew hot at the accusation, his lashes fluttering and ripping his gaze from where you stood amongst the crowds of the party. "I don't know what you are implying".

Norris' gaze turned knowingly to the younger man, his brows raised, "You do not? Then perhaps, you will not mind it if I tell her—".

"Norris", Connor warned, an underlying threat sitting in his brown hues. The older man sighed, his smile refusing to dissipate even in the wake of his counterpart's intimidation.

"Why not talk to her?? Mingle with the party!", he insisted, waving his arms to gesture to the warm atmosphere of the gathering.

"I am not one for celebrations", the young Assassin replied with a tug to his shoulders. "I would much rather watch others making merry".

"And miss all the fun? An opportunity to speak to (Y/n)??", Norris gaped. "Inacceptable!".

"What would you have me do?", Connor asked with a sense of hopelessness. "I have nothing to offer her but an absent partner and a broken heart! I have not the time to court a woman as wonderful as her". He spared a glance to where you stood once more with Miriam, his heart squeezing at the beauty of your laugh. The placement of your dimples and the way the light of your happiness always met with the warmth of your eyes, his own returning to Norris. "Even if I wanted to, with every fibre of my heart".

The Frenchman nodded, understanding the feathersoft yearning that twinkled in Connor's deep gaze. Alike to the one he used to have for Miriam before their marriage.

"Connor", he sighed. "I am certain a woman like (Y/n) would have considered all of these things beforehand! She is headstrong". His smile grew when adding, "The way I hear it from Miriam, (Y/n) hardly ceases singing praise about you".

Connor's heart stilled, his brows drawing together amidst his surprise. "She speaks about me??".

" 'Gushing', is probably a proper word for it, my friend. Women do that when they are en transe by a man, no??".

"I believe so??", Connor's reply came out more like a question than a statement.

"Then why wait in the shadows any longer?", Norris pressed. "Eventually, another man will seize the opportunity to sweep (Y/n) off her feet!". The young Assassin felt a short sting of envy in his chest, his eyes drifting downward. "Do not let yourself feel the regret by not acting now. She is the woman of your dreams, Connor. You deserve that much".

Norris gently clapped Connor's larger shoulder whilst the latter mulled over his friend's wise words, not realising the truth of them until now.

If he were to wait any longer, another man would surely take the opportunity to win your heart. Any sane man would. You were truly a beautiful individual.

You have a selfless heart and a ready mind, encompassing all in your warmth and compassion, inclusive of Connor himself.

Every soft touch of your hands brushing his or holding his arm, every embrace shared after returning from his months away had ensnared his heart, melting away the hardened exterior he often wore. You'd broken through it all with patience, listening to his inner expressions without judgement.

He knew then, that he needed to give your relationship a chance. Even if the price was hurt.

"Connor", your melodic voice snapped him from his daze, a friendly smile shining from your expression despite your concern. "What are you doing back here all by yourself??".

In alarm, Connor's eyes frantically searched for Norris, finding the space beside him now vacant. The older man was finally spotted beside his wife, raising both thumbs in encouragement at the Assassin.

"I just wished to be alone", he offered a quick excuse.

"Alone?", your brows creased. "On Christmas Eve??".

"I am not one for parties", Connor elaborated, his lips subconsciously quirking upwards to match your lighthearted expression.

"I understand", you conceded with a short laugh. "Neither am I, if I'm honest. I'm glad to be away from the bustle".

Leaning against the wall beside him, your bright hues spared him a fond glance whilst you added, "That's why I came to see you". Connor's brows rose,

"Really??". You nodded.

"I hope you don't mind, but I find your company soothing, Connor".

"The feeling is mutual", he assured. "Your words and presence are both a comfort to me, and welcome at any time".

For a moment, you seemed in thought, your eyes finally flickering back to his own. "I want to thank you", you confessed, irking a confused tilt of his head.

"What for??".

"For saving me", you whispered. "For offering me a better life here, away from oppression and struggle. Those things are now a fading memory. Thanks to you".

Connor's heart warmed within his chest, humbled entirely by your words. His lips parted to utter an insistence that his efforts were minimal and knowing this, your hand raised to halt the words about to tumble out.

A nervous, breathy laugh escaped him, unable to mask his endearment for you as his darker orbs travelled the delicate features of your face. Your hand had moved to rest on the clasp of his hands, the warmth of his fingers slowly intwining with yours.

"I am grateful for you", Connor murmured, feeling a surge of courage to reveal what lay in his heart. "You are a remarkable woman, (Y/n). And I consider myself very blessed to have you in my life".

His admittance left you at a loss of words, furthered by the gentle caress of the hand that came to cradle your cheek. Connor's thumb traced over your cheekbone, stilling the breaths in your throat before he continued, "I would be honoured if you would share it with me".

With his nose now brushing your own, your lashes fluttered at the welcome proximity, breathing, "Yes", as you saw fit to close the rest of the gap, your other hand reaching to grip at his hair when the heat of his lips finally reached yours.

They were supple, moving in calming touches with your own, like a summer's breeze. Refreshing and soft.

Connor's breaths exhaled against your skin and heaved in your sweet scent, his chocolate hues fluttering open when your lips had pulled from his own. You grasped the hand interlaced with yours, eyes halflidded given the closeness you still shared.

"Do you think Achilles will notice your absence?", you gnawed on your bottom lip hopefully.

"To hell with him", Connor grunted, his lips sealing with yours again before he lead you discretely from the party room and up the stairs to resume your celebrations elsewhere..

Translations (French to English);

Inacceptable = unacceptable

En transe = Entranced

♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡

Shay Cormac

Winter was always a dreaded time within the colonies, with only the exception of Christmas for most people. It was a time of year that you often found yourself yearning for the warmth of a home and family.

With the stars glimmering above, you'd wished upon them all for what seemed like the thousandth time by your eighth year in life.

Upon the softness of the grass, you lay with company, the autumn coolness high in the air. It wouldn't be long until the snowfall now.

Your fingers sat snugly interlocked in the grasp of your best friend, tilting your head to glance at his philosophical expression, ever a dreamer like yourself. Two children, lying beneath the shimmering lights of the stars.

"How's your face feeling?", you asked with some amusement, Shay's face brightening at the sound of your voice.

"Better now", he answered, using his spare hand to brush over the small blue spot marking his cheek. "It was you, I was worried about".

"Shay", you sighed. "You didn't have to—".

"I did", he cut in firmly, his brows creasing in seriousness. "That boy had no business trying to take your hard-earned food. I showed him the meaning of 'respect'. About time someone did".

The brunette beside you squeezed your fingers, offering a playful wink to pair with the reassuring smile he offered, the gaps on display in his teeth irking you to giggle. "Thank you", you grinned, turning your gaze back towards the skies above.

A comfortable silence ensued between you both before you piped up once more. "Shay?".

"Yeah?", his head panned towards you.

"Do you think that maybe one Christmas, we'll have a family? Be surrounded by loved ones?? Have food to eat and the warmth of a fire?".

Shay's hazel hues seemed contemplative before he answered, "Absolutely". Your brows rose, keen to listen as he continued, "We'll have families one day and big houses and even comfortable beds! You'll see, (Y/n)! When we grow up, everything will finally be alright for us. I just know it!".

That night, you both wished upon every star for Shay's prediction to come to fruition. And with twenty years' passing, Christmas Eve had finally come again.

Snowflakes floated through the air, children playing in the streets. Windows were frosted and the familiar smells of freshly baked goods were carried through the bustling streets.

Merriment and mirth were upon everyone's lips, well-wishes being spread like wildfires. The city of New York was far from perfect, yet it was prosperous, even moreso with the coming of this beloved holiday.

The Morrigan had docked for the first time in months only a few nights ago, Templar business soaring in the season. It was a relief to finally be back on dry land, especially for yourself and Shay; the latter delayed by affairs of the Order.

Never more eager to leave them behind, Shay's steps were brisk in the inches of snow left on the ground. "Are you quite sure you won't be joining us tonight, Captain?", the audacious Mr Gist had asked, excitement lacing through his tone. "I hear that Thomas Hickey is going to try and scull five pints of rum this year, as opposed to his record of three". The blonde laughed at the quizzical expression offered by his counterpart. "It should prove to be quite a show, indeed".

Shay's lips quirked up at his quartermaster's humour, ever grateful for Gist's good spirits, before he replied, "I'm celebrating Christmas Eve elsewhere tonight. A promise to a friend".

Gist spared a hearty chuckle, nodding in his clear understanding. "Very good, Captain". There was a knowing glint in his eyes when he added, "I will pass on your regards to the others, so long as you will pass mine on to (Y/n)".

There was no hiding anything from the perceptive quartermaster, Shay noted before grinning at his friend when the offer to shake hands was presented. "Thank you, Master Gist. You are relieved until the New Year", the brunette accepted.

"It has been an honour serving with you this year, Shay", Gist assured him humbly, releasing the friendly hold.

"And you", Shay's head inclined, finally farewelling the blonde before his journey lead him through a familiar set of gates not far from the port.

The chill of the winter air whipped at him incessantly until he reached the doors of his destination. Somewhere he hadn't been in the longest time. Home.

He needed only to knock on the hardwood doors before they swung open, bringing with it, the cozy and fruity smells of mulled wine and hot foods.

"Shay!", your arms were quick to pull the Irishman inside, from the cold and into your warm embrace. He stumbled for a moment, being much taller than yourself, yet never more relieved to be anywhere else but your kind arms.

Your lips hit his cheek in a quick peck, closing the front doors behind him and sealing out the cold. Shay's cheek tingled with the heat your touch left, his lips curled into a grin of delight at seeing your own.

"I was getting worried that I'd have to drag you from the Morrigan myself", you huffed with amusement.

"And you would've", Shay conceded.

"Bloody right, I would've". Your comment earned a soft giggle from the brunette, your eyes turning again to meet his as you shuffled around. "Merry Christmas, Shay".

"Merry Christmas, (Y/n)", he returned, noticing then that the halls of your shared home were decorated. Holly and vines of green bush were hung in abundance, even a tree in the corner, where most of the month everything had been bare.

A sense of wonder had filled Shay's hazel hues as they travelled the dimly lit halls. This would be not only his first Christmas back on dry land, but yours as well. For many years, you both missed Christmas. The Assassins often had you both scouring the Earth for artifacts; and the last few years, the Templars had you both embarking on diplomatic business.

As you both were rarely on dry land, Shay provided you with a home for you both to share, so that you would not waste what money you earned paying off a house that you would barely use. It was the least he could do for the best friend who had stuck through it all with him. And continued to do so.

Although now, in your adulthood, it felt like so much more than just a simple close friendship.

"Like it?", your voice brought the Irishman from his enthralled daze, his own voice sounding far away when he commented,

"It's lovely. Truly". He nodded, offering a pleased smile to you at last. "I can't believe you decorated! And is that—", the brunette sniffed the air. "— mulled wine?".

"And dinner", you laughed, his face blanching.

"You cooked as well??", Shay gaped. "How— you didn't have to— why??". His head tilted, genuinely in shock at the kindness of your actions.

"Well, you can hardly expect me to sit on my arse and twiddle my thumbs for the whole three days I was off from work!". You grasped his gloved hands, removing the covers to hold the heated skin beneath instead. "So, I occupied myself!".

Leading him into the kitchen, Shay was further surprised at the sight of some carved turkey on two plates, still steaming from the oven. You'd even baked some seasoned potatoes, glistening with butter and herbs— and was that cranberry sauce on the side??

You turned to the Irishman's stunned expression at last, the latter's eyes seeming to bulge from his skull out of shock whilst he insisted, "(Y/n), you didn't have to do this!".

Squeezing his hand to offer him reassurance, you laughed again. "I know!". Your thumb ran strokes over his knuckles, your gaze timidly shifting around in your excitement. "It's just— we've never had a proper Christmas, always being away and all, so I wanted to do this for you as much as myself. I wanted to give us a real Christmas!", you confessed. "Just like the ones we always spoke about as children".

"It's more than I could've imagined or deserved", Shay breathed out, his lashes fluttering whilst he grounded himself. At last, his hazel gaze met yours, glimmering with the hints of something unreadable to your own. "Thank you, (Y/n), for everything. I know my decisions have cost us everything from stability to the things we wanted as children, like marriage—", his eyes flickered downwards. "— or a family, but—".

"Shay", you cut in gently with a note of disapproval, gathering his gaze once more. "You are my family".

A smile returned to your face, the Irishman's eyes tracking your every movement. Your fingertips reached upwards, folding a stray few strands of his hair behind his ear.

"Remaining by your side was my decision. Leaving you was not and is not an option for me". Your thumb ran across the sharpness of his cheekbone, feeling the growing warmth of his skin beneath your touch. "Those dreams we had as children— the Assassins, the Templars— none of that could ever matter to me as much as you do".

Leaning onto the tips of your toes, your lips pressed a featherlight kiss against his forehead, murmuring against his skin, "You're all the family I need, Shay. As long as I have you, nothing else matters. I love you".

With such a raw confession hanging in the air, Shay didn't let your close proximity break. His arms curled around your waist, holding you upon your tiptoes with his lips close enough to brush with your own.

Shay awaited any attempt for you to pull away, finding no discomfort sitting in your orbs when at last his lips graced yours. Every part of you gave in to the careful strokes of his flesh with yours, feeling their cold and tasting the salt from the sea breeze that still lingered with him.

The Irishman finally recognised the ever blooming strength of the feeling that had always been there in his heart. It was as if an epiphany had struck him in the electric feeling of your kiss, your words having sparked the realisation of why your close friendship had felt like more.

It always had been.

"I love you too", his thickened brogue fanned over your lips after the kiss had broken. Shay's forehead sat against yours, cherishing the closeness and mingling of your breaths.

"We do have to eat first", a breathy chuckle fell from you, mirrored by Shay's laugh whilst your fingertips tracing the sharpness of his jawline.

"Must we?", his pout was playful, fondness once again dancing in his hazel hues.

"Afraid so".

"It shouldn't matter, as long as I have you". Shay's shoulders tugged, his statement endearing until he added, "Because if I eat all my dinner, I get dessert ". Sparing you a flirtatious wink in his passing into the kitchen, your mouth hung open incredulously.

This would be a long night, indeed...

♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡

Liam O'Brien

Life on the open seas. The salty air and biting breeze of the Atlantic a bitter reminder to you that you were far from the comforts found in being on land. Being home.

Assassin work never ceased, even with the Christmas season soon coming to a close the day after next. Christmas Eve had come again and you were surrounded by an endless amount of ocean that stretched to every direction of the horizons with only silence for company.

The hour was late, the crew of the Morrigan having set anchor hours ago to retire to their quarters and the seas were calm, the ship hardly rocking with the sway of the waters.

You should have been sleeping too. Being the crew's navigator, rest was an essential part of your job. To stay focused, to have a ready mind should your Assassin bretheren call up on your skillset.

It was for naught.

You missed the mirthfulness of being on dry land, being at the Homestead with your brothers and sisters. You missed the people rejoicing for the year's end, giving gifts and thanks for each other. You even missed the decorating of those silly pine trees and the smell of your baked goods. You missed Christmas. And you missed spending it with Liam, the quartermaster of the ship having always been a big part of your celebrations since before your time as an Assassin.

Every Christmas Eve, the bald Irishman made it a habit to ditch his duty of babysitting Shay for one night and spend the evening with you however which way you both saw fit.

Last year, Liam had taken you for ice-skating on the lake by the Homestead, as the weather finally permitted it. It also had something to do with the fact that you spent every day of that dreaded month whinging in his ear about how you'd love to learn how to ice-skate, begging asking him to teach you. How then, with you as persistent and stubborn as Shay, was he able to refuse??

The year before, Liam had barely made it to port in time, surprising you with his appearance at your front door in the evening. You'd felt so disheartened at the prospect of him being away from home, away from you that Christmas, that you'd nearly broken his back from the force of your embrace when you pulled his larger form through the door.

He never came empty handed, although you always insisted upon it.

"You're giving me the best meal I've had in months, Love", he'd say with a laugh. "Least I can do is give y' something for the trouble".

Liam would gift you trinkets he'd find at sea or on missions and although your respective careers as Assassins allowed little time for feelings or emotions, something about Liam makes every trouble feel small and any place feel like home.

You were relieved to be travelling with him and Shay this year, the bald Irishman having sung praise about your navigational expertise— one that could rival Chevalier's. And despite being no closer to the mission's end, you missed the intimacy of your traditions with your dearest friend who was undoubtedly sleeping soundly.

Or so you'd thought.

"What's this then?", Liam's voice startled you from your daze. "Sorry", he apologised with a soft laugh, moving to lean on the ship's railing alongside you.

"Can't sleep?", your question made him grin.

"Shouldn't I be the one to ask you that?". His amused expression quickly morphed into one of concern. "What's got y' so troubled?".

"It's Christmas Eve", your reply confused him, before you elaborated. "And look where we are. No land for miles, just water".

"I never knew being at sea would bother you so much", his brows drew together. "It can be hard, being so isolated. I can always ask Shay to—".

"It's not that, Liam".

"Then what?", his question was paired with a light tilting of his head, green hues fixed on you with that same gentle and attentive nature.

"There's no traditions or fun this year. No break from our work— we just don't stop. Every year, we always found something new to do, but it never mattered to me what we did. We always had each other, Liam. And maybe, just maybe, I—".

"Miss it?", he finished, coaxing something of a sheepish nod from you.

Darting up from the clasp of your hands, your gaze met Liam's, something fond and understanding in the way his lips curled into that crooked and beloved smile.

Hues of blue, purple and green suddenly illuminated his face in a heavenly symphony of colours and lights, stealing the breath from your lungs as your gazes travelled upward in realisation.

For the first time in your months on the sea, the Aurora Borealis made herself known to the only two beings awake on the ocean, dancing in many waves across the glittering skies.

"Come now", Liam said gathering your immediate attention when extending a palm to you. "I think we've found our fun for this year".

The warmth of his hand quickly enveloped yours, beckoning you near with the lightest of tugs. Your mingling breaths misted in the cold, your being craving the heat that endlessly radiated from the male before you.

Just like your dance on the ice the previous year, Liam lead you carefully by the small of your back into a soft waltz, the world around you slowly spinning in colours and ribbons of light from the heavens, with him at its heart.

The Irishman shared in your gleeful laughter as you both spun and gradually forgot the rhythm of the dance, all the while clinging to each other's hands.

Your bodies became tangled and giggling messes as you both struggled to hold the other upright in an embrace that finalised your dance with Liam. His head panned to yours resting softly on his shoulder, breathless and grinning ear to ear. Flushed from the cold and looking at him like he'd placed the stars themselves into the heavens.

"I think I've found our tradition for every year", you whispered.

His brows rose playfully, "Have you?".

Craving his warmth, you wasted no more time in hesitation, seizing the blistering heat of his mouth with yours.

Liam eagerly accepted the contact with a pleased hum, smiling through the shared movements of your lips as the years of tension fell away into something far more beautiful.

"I quite like that idea", his quiet laugh fell upon your skin. "We should definitely do the dancing again—".

Slapping his shoulder, you both shared in another kiss before making a move for the quartmaster's cabin, from which you would probably fail to emerge from any time prior to noon on Christmas Day.

♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡

Jacob Frye

Snow cut through the calm yet biting breeze, a chill deep in the foggy streets of London. Your throat burned dry with every inhale, relieved to be out in the open air at last, away from the suffocating heat of the bustling tavern.

What else could you expect from a gathering hosted by London's best bookie?

Robert Topping had thrown together quite the riot for the good peoples of the city, the Rooks taking it upon themselves to make merry with them, ensuring that every man, woman and child that showed up left in good spirits and with plenty of food in their bellies.

Another few people passed you by on their way out from the pub, whispers of 'Merry Christmas' on their lips, reflective of their gratitude towards you and the many others that had contributed to the party and the hard-won peace that now flourished in London.

Since Starrick's defeat mere months ago, the people no longer came to suffer the oppression of the gangs that had once run the streets. All the same, you also found yourself missing the adrenaline of it all. The thrill of freeing the people under the Templars' noses, loosening their iron hold over the citizens— working with Jacob and Evie to undo each scheme that was set against them.

However, there was nothing you missed more than being paired with Jacob on any mission the Frye's needed you for. The younger Frye had a knack for making you laugh, his easygoing nature making him easy to fall into step with.

His witty sarcasm, his playful digs and constant verbal nudges to get on your nerves had all become much-loved aspects of your assignments with him. Now, you knew not what you'd do without them, just as Jacob remained unsure of how often he'd have your company in future.

It frightened him— the thought of hardly seeing you, after you'd achieved so much together.

As such, it was hard for the younger Frye to remain oblivious to your early departure from the festivities, spying your thoughtful expression as you'd moved out into the snow.

"Leaving so soon?", Jacob called unto your back, caught for breath when you turned to face him. Pure exhilaration.

"I am, actually", you spoke with a teasing edge. "What brings you here? Looking for a way out of Bobby Topping's drinking competition? He was keen hoping you'd be his top contender".

"He knows I don't have to compete to be his top contender", the brunette countered quickly. "And I have no plans on earning him a quid more than he already has this evening".

"That's a first". He huffed a laugh at your quip, before his features softened. Recounting the many nights you'd spent patching him up after Fight Club. Blooded and bruised. Kind hands cradling him.

"It's hardly safe at this hour", Jacob began, sparing a glance at his fobwatch. "And as much as I'd love to leave you to the street felons, I think a walk might do us good".

"Am I sensing an offer to walk me home, Mr Frye?", your brow cocked, masking the mixture of horror and excitement that suddenly arose within you.

"It's that or Evie's wrath. As much as I lack fear of the latter, I'm not in the mood to be verbally castrated when I return to the train tonight". The brunette swiveled on his feet, graciously offering you his elbow to hold. "It is Christmas Eve, after all and one must learn to forgive another's snide remarks".

The wink that followed had you giggling, "I accept".

The walk that followed was magical.

Holding to the hard muscle sheathed by his leather jacket, you basked in the warmth that seemed to pour endlessly from Jacob. A beacon of heat in the crisp winter cold as you crossed onto London bridge– now entirely devoid of any life. Naught but the quiet flow of the icy waters and the waft of the breeze could be heard, no voices.

"It's so peaceful", your comment irked a fond smile from the young Frye as his stride seemed to slow.

"Too peaceful, one might say", his contented sigh misted in the breeze, footsteps halting halfway across the brige.

Jacob seemed taken by something, his hues of hazel panning up into the sky— to the lonely lights twinkling above. Their sparkle cascaded down, into the fresh snowflakes that now rained softly from the heavens. Like stars falling to Earth, the frost glittering in the moonlight.

"Snow!", your mouth fell open in awe, squeezing his arm in your shock. "It's so beautiful".

The flakes danced around you both in the wind, clinging to your hair and settling onto your clothes, doing nothing to deter Jacob's playful spirit.

Your racing heart leapt as his larger hand slowly brushed along your forearm, fingers carefully moving to tangle with your own amidst the snowfall.

"Dance with me", he whispered in a tone so gentle, you'd thought him a completely different person for a moment. The mischievous twinkle in the heart of his gaze made you realise that it was quite the contrary.

Seizing the moment with the man you adored, your steps across the bridge turned into the graceful, yet clumsy movements of a ballroom dance. Your shared laughter echoed along the piers below, seeming like starstruck soulmates to any sailors observing from below.

Without missing a beat, Jacob twirled you into his embrace with the gentleness and playfulness of a lover in a private waltz that was completely your own.

The journey across the bridge was over too soon, leaving your cheeks red and sore from smiling so much. All the while, Jacob's hand never retreated from yours.

Sensing a change in the wind, the young Assassin's head snapped towards you with amusement and exhaustion marring his expression. "As much as I'd love to continue our antics with the stunning views atop Big Ben, I think it would be a good idea to get indoors".

Little did you know, he'd never been more right.

Chests heaving and hearts hammering, you embraced the shelter you'd both managed to reach. Your beloved home, safe from the storm that had suddenly swept north.

"That was fun", Jacob's comment irked a shake of your head.

"Funnily enough", you countered, managing a laugh amidst your gasps for air. "Outrunning a blizzard wasn't how I planned to spend my Christmas Eve".

All of the other homes on the street were now near invisible to you both, shaky hands reaching for the front door. "You'd be mad to go back to the train in this weather", you turned to the timid and shaking brunette, quickly beckoning him inside with you. "Stay the night".

"It's a pity that our run didn't keep us warm for long", Jacob huffed once inside your humble abode, relieved to see that you were already starting a fire in the hearth.

"We were lucky to get here when we did, though", you remarked through chattering teeth. "Make yourself at home, Jacob".

Nodding, the young Frye unclasped his hidden blade, shook off his dampening overcoat and removed his top hat out of respect whilst you hurried out of the room.

Hazel flecked hues danced the room, ogling at the cozy Christmas greenery that lined the walls, at the beautifully decorated pine tree that brought him fondly back to the days of his childhood in Crawley. Of standing on an old oak chair in the living room of his grandmother's house, eagerly hanging the baubles whilst the smells of spiced biscuits and fresh tree needles filled the room.

So consumed in the memories that made his eyes glassy, Jacob didn't see your approach, nearly jumping whilst you wrapped a thick blanket around his broad shoulders. There was instant warmth and relief in the way your palms ran along his toned arms, attempting to provide heat through friction.

"Thank you". There it was again, just like before. That softness drifting through his voice, so unlike the boisterous and authoritative tone he usually took with the Rooks and other associates of his.

Offering him a smile that brought a completely different warmth to his form, Jacob allowed himself to be pulled in tow, to be seated with you by the crackling embers of the dim fire.

Given the evening behind you, the younger Frye felt comfortable and confident enough to be seated flush with you on the hard cold of the floorboards, inching one half of the blanket around your shoulders for you to share in his ever present body heat again.

Restraining the shudders that threatened to wash over you, your head panned away from his, not daring another glance at the way the fire illuminated his delicate and sharp features.

"Do you want some tea?". You began to hover your numbing hands above the burning flames, his words of reply being neither desperate or commanding, accompanied with what appeared to be a content curl of his lips, boyish and sweet.

"Don't leave".

Jacob's larger palms reached out, encasing the chill of your fingers within them. Drawing your hands away from the fire, his own gently offered yours a massage, encouraging the blood to race back into them.

Steady fingers worked into your palms and wrists, rubbing together at a soft and tantalising pace, the hazel hues of his gaze darting up to meet yours. You felt pinned in place by them whilst he blew a stream of hot air onto your skin.

Nerves prickled in your flesh, entirely fixated by the proximity of your best friend. Your colleague. So intimately coursing his thumbs over your hands whilst he spoke,

"I know this evening hasn't been what you expected— Or what I expected". His lashes fluttered. "But, there's no one else's Christmas Eve I'd rather be imposing on right now, more than yours".

An amused grin splayed along your features, shyly adding a confession of your own, "I don't think there's anyone else I'd rather have imposing on my Christmas Eve right now. Or from now on".

The new and bewitching colours of Jacob's firelit gaze once again ensnared you, holding your own eyes through the length of his lashes. His mouth feathered a touch over the pads of your fingers, brushing another on your knuckles before he finally settled for closing what space remained between you.

Whatever kind grip that he'd had on your hands disappeared, allowing you the opportunity of sweeping them along the ridge of his cheekbone and into his hair whilst his lips grazed over the seam of yours.

A gasp ghosted over Jacob's sensitive flesh, encouraging him to take your mouth again in a kiss far more eager than the last.

The crease of his brows met firm with yours, claiming any of your coherent thought in the new and fervent dance of his lips. Caught entirely in those movements, you both easily forgot the cold around you, the blanket falling to the floor as you climbed into his lap. Into his arms.

Jacob caressed a finger along your frantic pulse point, continuing to tease the dip of your collarbone whilst he settled his hand above your heart.

"I think—", he murmured, hinting a kiss in his descent against the delicate flesh of your jaw. "We can beat this chill another way".

The vibration of your laugh only did much to tempt him, quickly taking it upon yourself to fuel that cheeky grin of his.

"Whatever you say, Mr Frye".

♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡

Evie Frye

Baubles and greenery. Holly and cinnamon sticks. Pine trees and the smells of roasted chestnuts being carried down the streets. Everybody knew what time of year had come.

A sweet sense of relief had set in with the peoples of London, just in time for the biggest and happiest season. Having only been a shell of it's former self mere months ago, the city was now alive and bustling with trade and well wishes. Content with the knowledge that someone was looking out for them. Offering them a hard-earned peace.

The Rooks, the beloved gang serving the Fryes and protecting the streets— were now making merry with those they serve. Throwing a riot of a party that Evie Frye was certain she was missing.

She paid no mind to the cheering and clapping on the streets this evening, content to let it pass her by, despite Jacob's encouragements. There was far more work to be done, far more to be studied on the Pieces of Eden. Templar schemes didn't disappear at Christmas, and Evie made it her inclination that Assassin plans never halted either. Too much was at stake. Or so she'd earlier insisted to Henry, who also— thought it best to have the night off.

For but a moment, her tired crystal eyes lifted from the piles of parchment on her desk, harping a thought of her very active mind on you.

Of the way you'd busied yourself around the train earlier that morning, piles of decorations fumbling and falling from your arms. The excitement that had flared through the depths of your gaze or the shape of your dimples when you grinned like a giddy schoolchild and the way her heart had soared with your laughter.

A smile ghosted over Evie's lips, unrestrained with the fond reminder of how your carefree soul never failed to lift her spirits.

In previous months, it had done much to loosen her hardened and strict exterior. And earned her a mouthful of teasing from her brother, who had wholeheartedly supported her curiosities of their best friend and colleague. Despite any and all disapproval she'd face from anyone else.

There was a tug of guilt in her chest, drawing her icy hues to the glow of the streets outside. You'd be celebrating, perhaps disheartened that your friend couldn't even make the effort to show. After everything you'd done to prepare. After everything you'd accomplished together this year.

"There you are", Evie suddenly straightened, instantly snapped from her daze by the intrusion of your voice. As if her thoughts alone had summoned you to the train.

"(Y/n)", the brunette turned to you, choked up with the image settled before her.

Despite your hands being clasped behind your back, your posture was that of complete relaxation, donning a dress so wickedly beautiful, it seemed as if the angels above had forged you.

There was an obvious flush to your cheeks from the cold and any alcohol you'd recently consumed with the festivities, but it left any of her previously coherent thoughts scarce.

"Jacob told me I'd find you here", you remarked with a cheeky quirk to your lip.

Of course he did, Evie nearly responded out of natural irritation, marking your approach. Noting the concern etched to your features, the waves of your hair drifting back and carrying the smells of spiced firesmoke.

"Why are you here so late? You're missing all of the festivities".

A long and frustrated sigh drifted through her nostrils. "It's the Templars", she tugged stressfully on a loose strand of her fringe. "They don't rest! They—".

"Enough", one of your palms moved to carefully blanket Evie's, instantly rendering her into a silence. "Forget it. Forget it all tonight. It's Christmas Eve".

The softest swipe of your thumb over her knuckles placated any argument, Evie pinning you with a pensive and tired glare before her shoulders slumped in resignation at your unwavering resolve. You were anything if not more stubborn than her twin.

Without much difficulty, the older Frye allowed herself to be pulled to her feet. Sitting for the many hours passed had done little to aid her posture, leaving her muscles unnaturally exhausted of their energy and bones riddled with stiffness.

"Office work does not become you, Miss Frye", your giggle was soon mirrored by hers.

"I'm glad you think so. My bones seem to agree with you".

"Lucky for you, it's hardly the weather to be chasing down Templars. However,—", her brows rose in intrigue when you trailed off, finally bringing your other hand forth from behind your back. "— you may find the weather more fitting for this".

In one of your hands was a steaming mug of mulled wine that you'd managed to smuggle from the celebration, its fragrant spices drawing the elder Frye back to her childhood days in Crawley. Building snowmen with Jacob and cutting down pine trees in the woods.

In your other palm, there was a small and well-decorated box that you'd pulled from your pocket, patterned simply with a red ribbon binding the label which read clearly,

'To Evie.

With love, from (Y/n)'.

Offering both to her, you had the honour of watching her familiar icy blues change in their observation of you. Twisting with a fondness and mixture of shock that you'd never previously witnessed from her.

"Merry Christmas, Evie".

Moisture prickled in the brunette's eyes, quickly dismissed in the flutter of her lashes. "I can't believe you—".

About to placate her, you hardly expected Evie to cross whatever space there was between you, drawing your frame against hers in a kind embrace that nullified the winter's harsh and lingering chill.

"Evie, your mulled wine—", you tried to object whilst you steadied yourself with her, soon realising that you were perfectly safe and balanced. That her beverage wouldn't spill and burn you both.

The moments drifted in the comfort of her arms, seeming to end too soon when she at last pulled from you with misty hues.

"You didn't honestly think that I would forget you?".

Evie choked a laugh in the dismissal of her tears, "By my not attending the festivities, I thought that I'd given you the uninentional presumption that I'd forgotten you".

"No", your smile remained kind, admired keenly by Evie's sharper gaze. "You gave me the presumption that I'd have to drag you from your papers kicking and screaming. Didn't I succeed?".

"You've gotten further than Jacob ever has", she conceded, feeling the lightness of the gift being tucked beneath her fingers.

"Open it", your encouragement made her blink.

"But, it's Christmas Eve?".

"This one is special". You squeezed her hand in assurance. "Trust me".

It was with a slow apprehension and deep care that Evie untied the ribbon, lifting the shallow lid to the box in her palm. You delighted in the wonder that arose within the crystalline glare of her gaze as her fingers lifted the delicate trinket from the box.

The silver chain caught the light around you, twinkling softly like the stars under her scrutiny. Charms jangled, tied and melded into the precious metal with a precision that left her speechless.

"Did you—".

"I did", you nodded. "I learned from Henry. It's a lucky charm bracelet. I made its design so that it could also adorn your hidden blade, if you wish".

"I do, please!", Evie's insistance was paired with the instant offer of her forearm, on which you then fastened the glittering jewels to her bracer.

"I chose this colour", you murmured, tracing a finger along one of the stones. Pale blue and cut to be shaped like a heart. "Reminded me of your eyes".

Your gaze darted up, instantly catching hers. Like the striking chill of winter, or the bubbling streams anew in spring.

"Why did you shape it that way?", her ask was barely audible, as if speaking any louder would shatter any hope of a genuine answer from you.

"I carved it that way to represent my heart. My goodwill to you, Evie. To give you luck when you need it. Maybe, in the hopes that you might be reminded of me from time to time, if you ever go back to Crawley".

Your stomach twisted with the prospect of a possible rejection whilst the brunette huffed a breathy laugh. "How foolish you are, to believe that I'd ever be capable of forgetting you".

You swallowed nervously, feeling your throat becoming taut with the slow smile that crept onto her freckled cheeks. A realisation passed between you both in that moment. That this wasn't some fiction or delusion, or simple and fleeting curiosity. This was real. Fortified further by the gentle tug of her arm, slowly allowing the hand lingering upon it to fall into hers.

"You are far too entangled in my heart for me to ever let you go", she whispered, fingers weaving to intertwine with yours. "How could I ever leave?".

With the lightest pull from Evie, your feet stumbled forwards on autopilot, chest coming to meet flush with hers.

The cold that encompassed your lips dissipated with the soft breaths that cascaded over them, soon swallowed entirely by warmth as her mouth claimed yours. Gently, ardently, riddled with hesitation.

Your hands reliquished their grip at last on the mug, shattering when it hit the floor nearby, paying no mind to it whilst Evie craned you backwards, leading you to the couch just behind.

Falling upon the plush surface, you understood now why Jacob found it so comfortable. Evie blinked when her lips pulled from yours,

"Hang on, I forgot to get you a present—".

"I don't know", you mused, dancing a finger along the collar of her shirt. "I have a feeling that I'll like unwrapping this one much better".

♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡ °•° ♡

Lydia Frye

"Miss Frye".

"Mr Churchill", Lydia acknowledged with a curt nod, fiddling with the bracer of her hidden blade.

"I trust, the mission went well??".

"Exceptionally", she nodded, watching the warmth of relief meeting the Prime Minister's eyes. "The spies at the north gate have been eliminated. Rooks now stand vigil. If we are to endure an attack, we will surely see it coming".

"It seems London is once again indebted to you, Miss Frye", Winston mused. "Is there not anything we can offer you in return?? Consider your previous request in the works. I have my best people ensuring that London will one day bear true equality to the women of our beloved nation".

Lydia was pensive, gnawing the inside of her mouth. Unable to ignore the pressure of the worries eating at her every thought.

Hesitantly, she pulled a letter from her green overcoat, offering it forth to a bewildered Winston Churchill. His steady hands took the parchment, sparing it a look only to whom it was from. "(Y/n) Frye?", his gaze darted up to Lydia's.

"She's an Assassin working to aid the front", the brunette elaborated. "She has written me one letter a week without fail since her deployment. It has been two and a half weeks, and I have no word. Not even from my best men".

"You worry for her wellbeing?", Churchill questioned with a concern similar to Lydia's. "There is a war on. Perhaps, the couriers—".

"I recieve these letters by different means, Mr Churchill. I am scared for her life. No one loves Christmas more than she. And with that on approach— I've heard nothing. Not even a whisper".

"I see", his lips pursed in thought, nodding in his understanding.

"Mr Churchill, if there's one thing I wish, it's for her to be found and brought home safely".

"I will begin an investigation at once", he assured her, smiling at the numbers written under your signature. "Smart girl. She has signed off with her last longitude and latitude coordinates for us, which gives us a good place to start covering ground".

"Thank you, Sir", Lydia released a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding.

"I only ask for patience and understanding at this time, Miss Frye", Churchill offered a compassionate smile. "Be aware that it is hardly unusual for people to go missing in warzones and this investigation may take some time. I will page you with any findings I come across. We will get your sister home, if we can. That is a promise".

"She's not my sister, Mr Churchill", the brunette nodded in her parting, lifting her hands to raise her cowl. Winston only had to dart his keen gaze to one of them, instantly realising the truth upon seeing the silver band sitting on her left ring finger.

You weren't Lydia Frye's sister— you were her wife.

Weeks had passed with no word from yourself or in regards to the investigation. Lydia grew more anxious with each day that silence claimed.

"Wipe that worried off your face, Lydia Frye", she snapped from her daze with her grandfather's voice pulling her to reality. "Your fretting is making me fret".

The brunette giggled at the lighthearted expression on his weathered features, "Apologies, Grandfather. I had no idea such things were contagious".

"I have spent days worrying over others. It does not do well to dwell on these things, Sweetheart. My heart tells me that they'll find (Y/n) and bring her home", Jacob sighed. "Evie and I trained you both. I know your capabilities more than most, as well as hers. (Y/n) is strong and forthright. If I know her as well as I think, she is fighting to get home to you".

"I feel helpless, Grandfather", Lydia's smile saddened. "All I can do is wait and it kills me to not be able to—".

"Walk in there, guns blazing to get her out?", Jacob drawled with his peppered brows raised knowingly. Lydia's mouth parted to speak, opening and closing as if in shock that her grandfather knew her better than she knew herself. "You see?", he laughed. "That's the Frye blood in you. The urge to jump into danger, without thought if it means saving someone else".

"You think that I should resist it?", she cocked a brow expectantly.

"No", Jacob's head shook with that signature Frye grin. "I ask you to use it wisely. Pair it with an unholy amount of patience, if you must. But, if it's one thing I know, it's that you and (Y/n) are blessed to have each other".

Lydia's smile flourished again, if only for one thoughtful moment, "Christmas will not be the same without her".

"I don't doubt that either".

Lydia returned to the big city, to her home in London in time for Christmas Eve after making merry with her grandfather over many days in the countryside. Always, his visits were uplifting, reminding her of her rebellious youth beside you.

Easily, she was able to recall your shared studies together, seated on the grassy plains just outside her grandfather's property. Braiding your hair and weaving friendship bracelets from daisies and forget-me-nots.

Your first kiss in the cool spring breeze, swearing yourself to her side. If Lydia chose the destiny of an Assassin, you decided the same fate for yourself.

You'd spent every Christmas together since you were both five years old. Now, you had quite literally disappeared from the face of the Earth, leaving Lydia beside herself in preparation for a night she'd decided to spend patrolling the streets during whatever festivities that were being held.

Refastening her bracer, the brunette finally relented to the idea of taking this walk in the open air, if only to forget the absence of your warmth in your now cold house.

Opening the front door, Lydia froze, sure that she was hallucinating. There, you stood on the frosty street, hand raised to knock on the door of your own home.

Your hair was messily braided, strands matted together in a mixture of ash, gunpowder and mud. Dark circles sat under your usually bright hues, clothes battered and one arm carefully cradled in a sling.

"(Y/n)?", Lydia blinked, her words no more audible than a breath.

To your sore and heavy eyes, your wife was a gift. Mouth parted, the glittering hazel in her hues growing wide in her shock and porcelain skin marred with the obvious lines of worry that only did more to pronounce her beauty.

Having only emerged recently from the horrors of the warzones, from the violence and unlimited dangers you were forced to face on the daily— including your injuries, you trembled. You could hardly believe you were home, alive, never to go back.

Your chest tightened suddenly, face crumpling with the tears you'd long been holding in since you left for the battlefields. "Lydia", you choked out, stumbling the remaining few steps between you on weak legs.

Her arms engulfed you eagerly within seconds, suffocatingly tight. "You're alive!", you heard the wonder and relief in her sobs as she clung to you. "I've missed you, I— I was so worried that you—".

"I know. I know—", you stammered, gasping for breath through your tears. "We were ambushed by Templars some weeks ago. I couldn't save everyone— I couldn't—".

"Shh, now", Lydia hushed you, pulling back to cradle your face in her palms. So warm and full of life. Just as you'd remembered in your dreams. "What matters is, you're home safe".

Her smile, just as wicked as her grandfather's, ensnared you all over again. You waited no longer, taking her lips in a fervent and long-awaited kiss beneath the dangling mistletoe.

"You must have missed me just as much", Lydia offered a lighthearted joke, gasping through the next contact of your lips.

Your mouth curled against hers, murmuring, "Winston Churchill sends his regards".

"Bless his heart", Lydia sighed, eyes growing misty once more. "He really did it. He got you home on Christmas Eve".

"So did you", you breathed out, watching it crystallise in the breeze around you. "No one would have found me— thought to look for me, if it weren't for you. You never gave up on me, Lydia".

"I never will", her forehead met yours, gaze as adoring as the day you'd stood in your own private altar in the countryside. "Not ever".

Her lips warmed the tip of your nose, irking you to giggle. "Going somewhere this evening?", you bit your own lip to restrain your teasing smile.

"No", Lydia's head shook with her own devious smile. "At home with the wife tonight. We have a lot of catching up to do this Christmas".

The End. . .

__________________________________________

Hello, all!! 🥰

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to every single one of you!! 🎄☃️🎉🥳💖🫂

I hope you've all had the most spectacular holiday season, however you celebrate it! I wish good health and good fortune for your Christmas and the year ahead, but also to thank anyone and everyone who has supported my works this year. I'm grateful to you, including all of the friends I have made in this fandom and beyond! Thank you all!! You're magnificent ❤❤

As always, please tell me how I went with writing these with any feedback you have. I hope you all enjoyed!! If you wish to be a part of my taglists for this fandom or any of the ones I write for - check out my Masterlist and let me know!!

~ Elena ♡

TAGLIST; @deadlymistletoe

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lvis44 · 5 months ago

Text

Cabin Fever - Pt. 2 // LH44

Lewis Hamilton x Y/N

Warnings: Swearing, Alcohol Consumption, Angst, Lewis being an ass, allusions to mental health struggles, 18+ MINORS DNI, not edited

Word Count: 5.3k+

Summary: He's your Sister in Laws best friend, you shouldn't even have to deal with him. Always seeming like a cocky arrogant prick, and now here he is crashing your family Christmas. Can you handle a full week of Lewis Hamilton? Or might he not actually be as bad as he seems?

Notes: Part two for you lovelies! I don't have much to say other than I am already working on part 3 and writing lewis as a bit of an ass is quite fun! As always ignore the fact that I cannot keep a tense for the life of me, Im grateful you guys seem to love me anyways lmao.

As always, I am not a professional writer and all of this is a work of fiction and is strictly for fun. Enjoy!

Your room is freezing when you wake in the morning, the room eerily silent. You groan, rolling over to grab your phone while trying to keep as much of the comforter over you as possible.

“Fuck.” You mumble to yourself when you see that your phone hasn’t been charging all night, despite being plugged in.

You sit up, looking around the room, reaching over to flick on the lamp beside your bed, nothing. You evidently lost power overnight. You're surprised that in a house this lush there isn’t already a generator going but you suppose someone needs to start it, or it only powers certain things. One thing you know for certain is your room is freezing. You make your way out of bed and over to the fireplace in your room, hoping there is wood nearby to warm you up. You can’t help but let out another groan when you see the electric starter on the gas fireplace, no use if the power is out. You decide to go see if the rest of the house is a little warmer, or if you can at least be miserable with someone else. You rummage through your suitcase to find a warmer set of pajamas, settling on a thick pair of flannels that have kept you warm for nearly a decade. Once you've changed you grab the throw blanket off the back of the nearby chair, wrapping it around you like a cape and decide to make your way down into the house.

The house is completely silent as you wander down the stairs, evident that everyone else is still asleep. It doesn’t surprise you, you haven’t been good at sleeping recently, always waking up much earlier than you would like to. You imagine everyone else stayed up for a while after you disappeared to your room the night before, possibly all nursing a slight hangover this morning with the amount they could drink from your experience. You quietly make your way to the one room you had become familiar with the night before, the den. You stop in your tracks the moment you enter the room, surprised to find Lewis on the couch. He’s got a blanket draped across his legs and a large fire going in the fireplace in front of him. You stand frozen in the doorway for a moment, not sure if you should join him or run back to your room to avoid interaction. You finally decide it's far too cold to let his arrogant attitude keep you from getting a little bit warmer. Before you risk settling into the den alongside him you decide to go in search of a way to possibly make a warm beverage. As you make your way past him and towards the kitchen you mutter out your most polite “good morning” to which you only receive a subtle hum, almost as if he didn’t even know the sound had left his body. You roll your eyes, a constant with him around, finally making your way into the kitchen to rummage. Nothing in the kitchen works and even the hot water heater seems to be electric, the water coming from the pipes being ice cold.

“There’s a kettle on the fire, tea bags and mugs are next to the coffee maker.” Lewis’ voice calls out through the quiet house. You can’t help but wonder for a moment if someone else has woken up and he is directing them instead but as you stand there you hear nothing else. You quickly grab a tea bag and a mug, making your way back to the den and the warmth of the fire as rapidly as possible.

“Thanks.” You say quietly, offering him a small smile.

“Yeah,” He says, his gaze never leaving the fire in front of him, “should be ready in a second.”

“Okay.” You nod, settling on the floor in front of the fire despite the many cush couches and seats available.

The two of you sit in silence much to your pleasure, perfectly content to listen to the crackle of the fire instead of jabs and insults from the man behind you. The sound of him getting up from his seat draws you out of the trance that the soothing fire had put you in. It takes you a moment to realize that he is grabbing the kettle, the sound of water bubbling now coming over the sound of the crackling wood. He wordlessly fills his mug, setting the kettle and pot holder down on the hearth in front of you before moving back to his seat on the couch. You lean forward to grab the kettle, your blanket falling from your shoulders as you do so, exposing you to the still rather chilly air. You can feel his eyes on you as you pour your water and you can’t help but assume he has taken note of your worn out flannel pajamas, having noticed that he was dressed in what appeared to be a brand new Dior sweatsuit. Once you return the kettle to the hearth and adjust your blanket you turn to look at him over your shoulder, a deep smirk evident on his features.

“What?” You ask, your tone already argumentative.

“The second your blanket fell you started grumbling about winter and being cold. Not a fan I take it?” He chuckles.

You hadn’t even realized you were complaining as you made your tea, your cheeks flushing slightly at the realization.

“Moved away from it for a reason.” You mumble, returning your attention to the fire in front of you.

He doesn’t respond, allowing you to both sit in silence and enjoy the warmth and peaceful air before your family swarms the house. Just as you finish your tea you hear him start to move behind you, catching your attention. You glance back to him, seeing him folding up the blanket he had been using.

He notices your attention, turning toward you after he throws the blanket over the couch, “Snow looks like it’s finally stopped, gonna go out and shovel so I can finally get out of your hair.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes at his comment, choosing to move past it, “Dylan has a plow, he’ll be up soon.”

“It’s blocked in the garage, gotta at least shovel our cars out before we can get it out.” He tells you, grabbing his phone from the table and walking away towards his room just off the den.

His habit of leaving the room without a final thought or exit bugs you more than it should, just another thing that makes him seem arrogant and aloof. You decide to just settle in again in front of the fire, more than happy to allow him to dig the plow out of the garage, you figure he’ll appreciate the workout anyway. It doesn’t take long until you hear him reammerge from his room, the sound of snow pants swishing behind you. You focus on the sounds of him putting on his boots in the foyer mixed with the subtle murmurs of people waking up throughout the house, disappointed that your silence has come to an end. Not long after you hear Lewis shut the front door, your dad is appearing in the den, a thick robe over his pajamas.

“Hey Kiddo, how long have you been up?” He asks, his voice pleasantly quiet.

“Maybe an hour or so, honestly not sure.” You say, leaning slightly towards him as he bends down to squeeze your shoulder.

“Power has been out since you got up?” His voice stays soft as he sits down in a chair near you.

You hum, nodding before gesturing to the kettle still sitting in front of the fire, “There might still be some warm water in there if you want to make some tea or something.”

“It’s a nice fire you’ve got going here.” He tells you as he gets up to check the kettle.

“Lewis had it going when I got up.” You admit, unsure why you bothered, probably so it didn’t come up later.

“Where is he?” Your dad asks, wandering into the kitchen to find a mug.

“He just went out to shovel, I guess the plow is blocked in the garage, we’ve gotta move cars or something before we can get it out.” You tell him as he emerges with only a tea bag, stealing your empty cup from the table beside you making you laugh, “Yes, I’m done, thank you for asking.”

Your dad just chuckles, pouring himself a cup of tea, leaving your used bag in the cup, “Well after I get some caffeine in me I’ll head out to help him, there’s a ton of snow out there and it sounded like it was going to be really wet.”

“Dad, no, I’ll go change and we can force Dylan to help when he gets up.” You immediately argue, not wanting to go shovel with Lewis in the slightest but far too aware of your fathers back problems to allow him to shovel after a storm like this.

“I’m not a cripple, Y/N, I take care of our house back home during the winter, I’m perfectly capable of helping out here.” Your fathers voice is stern, his choice of words causing you to cringe.

“I know, I just, I worry about you, I don’t want you to be in pain for the holidays. Lewis is an athlete and Dylan and I are still young enough that we can bounce back. Just stay inside and help keep Tom sane while Beatrice and Vanessa freak out.” You try to reason with him, your voice quieting towards the end of your argument, unaware of who may be awake at this point.

“Fine, but if you guys need any help you let me know. Maybe I can get your brother's generator running, I would be shocked if he didn’t have one with all this.” He concedes, gesturing around to the lavish yet dark house surrounding you.

“Yeah, I was surprised there wasn’t something for the heat at least, seems very unlike Dylan.” You say, still confused by the complete lack of backup power.

Before your father can even respond you hear Vanessa's voice coming down the stairs, shrill and unforgiving for the hour of the morning.

“It’s all out Dylan, the tree in the foyer isn’t even on!” Vanessa's voice is grating, causing you and your father to exchange a look.

“Babe, it’s okay, I’m sure it will be back on soon.” Dylan's voice follows behind her. You can tell he’s only just woken up, not ready for this much drama.

“You put on the kettle for Dylan, I’m gonna go shovel.” You tell your dad with a pat on the shoulder, a teasing yet knowing smirk on your face.

“Sounds more like a whiskey kind of morning for him.” Your dad murmurs, making you laugh as you leave the room.

You can hear Vanessa freaking out in the kitchen, you manage to narrowly escape any interaction and make your way to your room to bundle up to head out to shovel.

Once you step outside you can feel just how much the temperature has dropped from the night before, your nostrils immediately stinging. You burrow your face further into your jacket, grabbing one of the shovels off of the porch and making your way down to the driveway. You notice that Lewis has made good headway so far, the porch and path fully cleared off as well as his car. Much to your surprise when you step around his tall Mercedes, you’re met with him cleaning off your small rental.

“Is somebody dying inside?” Lewis asks when he notices your presence.

“What?” You ask, caught off guard.

“I know you’re not out here for my company Y/N, what's up?” He pries, not looking at you as he finishes removing the snow from your car before throwing the scraper in the back of his car again.

“Uh, I just came out to help.” You tell him, awkwardly holding up your shovel in his direction.

He looks in your direction, his eyebrows slightly raised in a surprised and disbelieving expression, “Okay then.”

He doesn’t say anything else, picking up his shovel from where he’d rested it in the snow bank and continuing to dig out your car. You follow his lead, beginning to chip away at the pile in front of the garage. You feel like you’re barely doing anything as you watch his large shovel fulls fly into the yard, making the snow you’re moving look like a joke.

“Thanks for cleaning off my car.” You say, trying your best to be polite.

He just shrugs, a grunt leaving his chest as he throws a particularly heavy load of snow, “Need to move it anyway.”

You just nod, continuing to shovel in silence. He has your car completely freed from the snow and is onto shoveling out a parking space off to the side by the time that you finish the small patch in front of the garage, you feel like your help is barely needed but you figure it’s better than nothing. Much to your surprise Lewis is the one to break the silence next.

“Is V inside freaking out?” He asks, leaning against his shovel to catch his breath for a moment.

You laugh quietly, nodding, not wanting to say anything that may make him defensive over his friend.

“Yeah, I kinda figured,” He says, returning to moving snow, “she can be like that when things aren’t perfect.”

You just nod, very aware of exactly what he is talking about. Only a few moments pass before you hear his voice again.

“Grab our keys from inside? Mine are in the bowl by the front door.” His question is barely a question, more of a demand but you just nod, figuring he’s doing all of the heavy lifting anyway.

When you step in the front door, Dylan is quick to rush into the entryway, “Hey, I’ll get the plow out, you guys really don’t need to keep shoveling.” His face is apologetic but you can tell he’s stressed.

“It’s alright, we’re just gonna move our cars so you can get the plow out.” You tell him, grabbing the keys from the table.

“Okay, thank you, tell Lewis thank you too. I’ll be out to plow once everything calms down a little bit in here.” He says, pulling you into a hug.

“Take your time, I think we’ll be in soon.” You say as you pull away, squeezing his arm with a sympathetic smile.

Back outside Lewis has successfully cleared out enough space for both of your cars to move to and get the plow out of the garage.

“Which one do you want me to move to?” You ask him, approaching him with his keys out for him.

“I’ve got it, you can go inside.” He says, pushing off from where he had been leaning against his car, taking his keys and waiting for yours.

“It’s fine, I can move a car, Lewis.” You say with a bit of a huff.

“I know Y/N, but I’ve got it.” He says back, annoyance creeping into his voice rapidly.

“Okay, fine, thanks I guess.” You snap, handing him your keys and turning around to head back inside. You hear him let out a small scoff as you walk away.

By the time you make it into the kitchen, a full meltdown is occurring. Vanessa and Beatrice are freaking out to your mother about not being able to make a proper family breakfast and Tom is berating your brother for not having fixed the generator before everyone arrived. Your parents are doing their best to get everyone to calm down, your mom trying to figure out something to make for breakfast while your father attempts to defend Dylan. You stand in the doorway for a moment, taking it all in, very ready to turn and run from it all.

“Holy shit.” His voice is close behind you, so close you can feel the warmth of his body as he approaches the same scene you’re now witnessing. You turn to look at Lewis, momentarily sharing a rare knowing glance.

“Happy fucking holidays.” You say sarcastically, raising your eyebrows before stepping into the kitchen, leaving him to take his own moment before joining the insanity as well.

“Hey Dylan,” You call out loudly, trying to cut through the shrill arguments occurring, “do you think you guys have any cast iron pans around here?”

“Uh, yeah, we do, why?” He stutters briefly, thrown off by the interruption from the argument he’s been having with his father in law.

“Cool, can you grab them for me?” You say calmly, not explaining before turning toward Vanessa, “Think you have eggs and bacon in the fridge?”

“Yeah I did but I’m sure it’s all gone bad now and we can’t exactly cook it.” Her response comes out whiny and you have to take a deep breath.

“The fridge is a big cooler, it’s plenty cold in here and in there, it’s fine.” You try to explain to her, moving to the fridge to grab some ingredients quickly without letting the cold air out.

You spot the eggs and bacon, also grabbing the first bits of fruit that you see, piling everything up on the counter behind you and sending your brother a look.

“Lewis,” You call to him, catching him off guard, not expecting you to speak to him, “can you go make sure the fire is going good? I need it really hot with a good amount of coals.”

He just gives you a look like you have multiple heads before slowly nodding and making his way toward the den. Vanessa still seems to be on the verge of tears as she sits at the kitchen island, evidently having decided that the whole trip is a wash because of this little hiccup. Your brother and father quickly catch on to what is going on in your mind, your dad grabbing a loaf of bread and stacking slices of it in tin foil as your brother begins laying bacon in one of the cast iron pans you made him grab. Once his bacon is all laid out you grab the pan from him and make your way to the den, passing Lewis on the way who once again looks at you like you’re insane. You’re pleasantly surprised by the fire he’s produced when you squat down in front of it, the pan of bacon in one hand as you grab the fire poker with the other. You begin to move the logs around, trying to make a nice bed of coals for your pan before you hear his voice arguing from behind you.

“Hey, you just asked me to make a nice fire and now you’re destroying it, what the hell is this?” He sounds childish, like he’s genuinely frustrated that you’re ruining the admittedly beautiful fire he made.

You shake your head, finally placing the pan of bacon down on the hot coals before standing to face him, “We’re gonna cook like we’re camping so your best friend doesn’t lose her absolute mind. Can you handle that?” Your voice is low, a bite to it caused by him not being able to go with the flow for a moment.

“Jesus, okay captain.” He shoots back sarcastically as you walk back toward the kitchen.

“Okay V, bacon is on the fire, it’s gonna take a minute longer than usual but once that’s going I’ll get some eggs on as well and I think my dad already has the toast ready to go in.” You say, keeping your voice calm as you wrap an arm around your sister in law, “How about we get some fruit cut up to tie us over?”

The hug she wraps you in makes your heart clench, as annoying as her behaviour about the situation is you can feel in her hug that it was genuinely taking a toll on her.

“Thank you, oh my god I love you so much, best bonus sister in the world.” She says, squeezing you tight.

“Thank my dad and Dylan, they’re the ones that made me go camping so much as a kid.” You giggle, squeezing her back while sending both the men a slightly unimpressed look before cracking a smirk. They both knew you were joking, some of your fondest memories were from those camping trips.

“Oh, wait, Dyl, isn’t there a case of Champagne in the basement? We could do Mimosas!” Vanessa suddenly perks up, her mood shifting quickly.

“Yeah babe, there is, I'll go grab it, be just a second.” Dylan says eagerly, evidently pleased to see his wife excited about something for the first time all morning.

“Glad to see one of your kids has got some problem solving skills, not the one I would have expected though.” Tom grumbles from the corner of the kitchen as Dylan disappears into the basement, your stomach clenching at the obvious distaste for the both of you in his voice, “I have been telling him to get the generator looked at for months, yet here we are. Hell, I could fix the thing if the damn kid had any tools.”

“Dylans got tools,” Lewis pipes up, having just walked back into the room, not even waiting for the evident rebuttal your father was about to lay out, “he’s got a whole workshop in the back shed. Breakfast is gonna be a while, maybe you and I can get it running.”

“Finally, some initiative, you’re a good man Lewis.” Tom says, already pushing off the counter and heading to suit up for generator repair.

“Dad.” Vanessa groans, pressing her forehead into her hands.

You can see every word your father would like to say bubbling at the surface, only keeping them inside for the sake of civility for the holiday, your mother quietly stewing from where she stands cutting up fruit. As Tom makes his way out of the room, Lewis moves over to where you and Vanessa are standing.

“Fair warning V, I don’t know the first thing about generators so I claim no responsibility for anything that happens, but he needs to get out of this damn room before it gets worse.” He tells her softly, squeezing her shoulder.

“Thank you.” She whispers softly, grabbing his hand to squeeze it back.

“By the way,” His voice is slightly louder now, his attention directed at you “I threw a few more logs on the fire to keep it hot, your bacon might need to get flipped soon, it was starting to get pretty violent.”

“Oh, yeah, thanks.” You say, surprised he even let you know, you would have sooner imagined he would let you burn it just to see you be yet another disgrace of the day, simply for his amusement.

When Dylan returns from the dark basement you are whisking eggs alone in the kitchen, his arms are full of Champagne bottles as he looks around at the empty room, evidently confused.

“Sorry that took so long, hard to navigate in the dark, where-” He begins.

“Mom, Dad, Beatrice, and V are all in the den watching the bacon cook.” You laugh, catching on to his question.

“Tom and Lewis?” He asks, immediately suspect.

“They're outside trying to fix the generator.” You say sheepishly, knowing he would hate it but not wanting to lie to him.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He says under his breath, turning away from you for a moment.

“I know, I know, but Tom was going to go absolutely insane in here and as much as I dislike him I kinda think Lewis was trying to save your marriage.” You say quickly, trying to calm him down.

Dylan lets out a sigh, setting the heavy bottles down on the counter, “They better not hurt themselves fucking around with it. Besides they literally can’t fix it, it’s missing a part from the manufacturer, which I told Tom, but no, he has to go-” He begins to rant.

“Hey, Lewis at least kinda knows engines and if they can’t fix it, at least it keeps them busy for a while. Also just keep in mind that Dad would be just as overprotective of me as Tom is with V.” You try to diffuse the situation.

“Never thought I would hear you defend Lewis.” Dylan grumbles, ignoring everything else you had to say.

“I’m not,” You quickly defend yourself, “I’m just trying to give you the whole picture.”

“I’m glad you’re here, this family drives me insane sometimes. Nice to have someone normal.” Dylan admits to you quietly, not even looking up at you as the words leave his mouth.

“You may want to recalibrate on what you consider normal,” You start with a laugh, moving around the island to wrap him in a hug, “but I’m happy to be your partner in crime. Now, I’m gonna go cook some eggs and throw this bread on the fire. You pop some champagne and grab the oj and the fruit off the back deck.”

“Why is all of it on the back deck?” Dylan asks, doing his best to ignore the sappy sibling moment.

“It’s like a walk in refrigerator, even houses this nice only get those during the winter months.” You say teasingly as you walk away with your pan and bowl of eggs.

By the time breakfast is ready, Lewis and Tom have made their way back into the house, Tom finally conceding that he can’t fix the generator without extra parts. You are proud of Dylan as you see him bite his tongue, evidently having things to say but instead just thanking his father in law for trying. Vanessa is overjoyed with breakfast, thanking you profusely and taking a billion pictures because ‘it's just so rustic’, making you laugh every time she excitedly mentions it. Once again you feel yourself wanting to say something when you notice Lewis not touching anything that was made, sitting at the table with just a bowl of fruit and a mimosa, but you decide against it, deciding to just let breakfast progress peacefully. You do still find yourself hoping that he will leave the second after your brother finally gets outside to plow.

Once everyone is done eating you find yourself offering to help Beatrice clean up at the same moment as Lewis, she of course takes both of your offers happily, both of you sharing a less than pleased glance. As you begin to pile dishes into the sink, only able to rinse them with cold tap water, you hear a humm.

Your brothers voice cuts your thoughts off, talking to Lewis, “Hey man, I was gonna head out to plow, and I know you already shoveled and thank you so much, but I was wondering if I could convince you to hop on the skidoo while I’m on the hill, Vanessa freaks out when I plow the hill alone and I don’t think we need anymore drama this morning.”

“Yeah, no problem mate, just give me a minute.” Lewis says calmly.

“Guys, shhh.” You hiss from your spot at the sink.

“Well no shit.” Lewis mutters from behind you, where he stands wrapping up the bowl of fruit salad.

“Is that the heat?” You ask excitedly, whipping around to face them.

“Sounds like it.” Lewis chuckles, not looking at you, instead turning to open the fridge to put the salad away, a smile crossing both of your faces when you see the light illuminate the interior.

“Powers back on!” You hear your fathers voice call from the other room.

You decide to leave the dishes for another moment, heading into the den where everyone else has settled for the time being. When you enter you hear the TV click on, your father immediately finding the local news.

“The snowfall is the worst we have seen in almost a decade, nearing four feet in under twenty four hours. The winds were devastating, taking out power to most of the surrounding rural neighborhoods. Emergency crews are on the ground to aid in snow removal and extraction for those trapped indoors. If you are in a safe and warm location we urge you to stay inside, do not attempt travel, and wait for further updates.” The weather reporter's voice carries through the den, the TV cutting to scenes of parts of town that you had driven through absolutely ransacked with snow and downed trees.

“Lewis, darling, I know the snow has stopped but you have to stay, I would be worrying about you the whole time you were out there.” Beatrice says, her voice sounding overly desperate like calling someone home from war.

“It’s just a drive, Bea, I’d be totally fine once I made it to my house.” He argued patiently, his voice behind you.

“But the drive, you never know what will happen, and what if you get to your house and something happened there, then you have to drive all the way back here. I would be worried sick.” Beatrice continues to argue as if its her house, you know Vanessa would never turn Lewis down but the audacity of her mother doesn't cease to amaze you.

“Y/N and I got my car out of the snow this morning, if we can get the driveway plowed I’m good to go. Between my driving skills and the four wheel drive I’m sure I will be more than fine, I might have to sit through some delays but that will be it.” He continues to attempt to reason with the distraught woman.

“Lewis, she’s right, they’re telling people to stay put. It’s not worth the risk.” Vanessa pipes up, siding with her mom.

You can hear him let out a heavy sigh and you know he’s getting ready to concede, you don’t think you’ve ever actually seen him disagree with Vanessa or tell her no to anything she wants.

“I don’t want to intrude, I know you weren’t planning on having me here. You guys should really have your family holiday the way you planned it.” He argues one last time, the weakest argument yet.

“Nonsense, you are family. I’m always happy to have the son I never got around.” Tom says eagerly. You cringe internally at his words, for both Dylan and Vanessa, you can even see distaste on Lewis’ face when you steal a glance at him.

“I do genuinely need to get to my house at some point, but I’ll stick around a little longer if it would make you feel better.” Lewis finally concedes, looking less enthusiastic than you had anticipated.

You quietly announce that you are going to go finish the dishes, wanting to get away from everyone for a moment. You’re only allowed to be alone for a moment before Lewis is joining you in the kitchen, much to your dismay.

“You’ll survive.” You hear him grumble as he begins cleaning up the kitchen behind you.

“I didn’t say anything.” You snap at him, unhappy with being attacked unprovoked.

“Didn’t have to, I know you don’t want me here.” He says firmly.

“It’s not my house, Vanessa can invite whomever she pleases.” You say, continuing with the dishes.

“Yeah, she can, doesn’t mean you’re happy about it.” He argues.

“Because you’re just buzzing to spend more time with me?” You question him harshly, finally turning to face him as you dry your hands.

“Oh fucking dying.” He says sarcastically, an over dramatic pained look on his face.

He doesn’t give you time to respond before once again he is leaving the room without a word.

“It’s only a week Y/N.” You mutter to yourself, taking a deep breath before busying yourself with cleaning. Maybe you can keep yourself so busy you won’t have to interact with him at all.

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