#they brought it back when they were ready

[pathologicalreid]

christmas (baby please come home) | s.r.

in which Spencer isn't home to put his kids to bed on Christmas Eve, but they wake up to a surprise on Christmas morning

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: spencer's first post prison christmas, frankensteined the plot of "surface tension", the same family as "here with me", crying, christmas word count: 3.19k a/n: merry christmas!! this is kinda like my gift to you, mostly since it's been sitting in my brain for forever!!!!!!! i love u all! also happy first day of hanukkah if you celebrate <33

“But Daddy’s not home,” your daughter whimpered as she shuffled under her covers, she looked up at you with wide, curious eyes.

You carefully smoothed out the top of her floral comforter, “I know, baby,” you whispered, reaching up to pinch her cheek affectionately. You’d let them stay up late to watch the Santa tracker, but eventually, Finn fell asleep on you, and Livvy’s yawns were enough to convince you that it was bedtime. “You still have to go to sleep. Santa will come whether Daddy’s home or not, and we’ll just do the gifts from Mommy and Daddy when he gets back.”

At three years old, Olivia was beginning to understand Spencer being gone the same way Eleanor did; she knew his absence was entirely out of her control, and that didn’t sit well with your middle child. You knew you had gotten incredibly lucky when Spencer had been home for Finn’s birthday and Livvy’s had fallen during his sabbatical, but you also knew that you were due for a missed holiday, you just wished it could’ve been Thanksgiving or New Year’s.

You kissed her forehead before leaving, making sure to leave the door open a crack so the monsters wouldn’t get her before you went to Nell’s room. “Hey, honey,” you whispered, closing your eldest’s door behind you before going to sit on the edge of her bed. She had her own Christmas tree set up in the corner of the room, the artificial purple tree providing the glow that her nightlight normally would. “Are you ready for bed?”

Nell was lying on top of her covers, staring at her still ceiling fan as she ignored your question. While Livvy was just starting to understand what it meant when Spencer was gone, Nell understood it best, and she had for years now. She’d understood when Spencer was in prison, and she understood that he was missing Christmas now.

Slowly, you laid down next to your daughter, propping your head up on the bed and smoothing her hair back. “It’s still Christmas,” you tried to reassure her, but part of you knew that it was a thankless effort, there was nothing you could tell her that would fix her father’s absence. “We can call Dad in the morning while we open presents,” you offered, hoping she’d appreciate you coming halfway. “If he’s not busy, maybe we can video chat, and you can show him everything Santa brought you.”

“It’s not the same,” she told you, furrowing her brows and turning away from you on the bed.

Sighing, you pressed a kiss to the back of her head, “I know, Nellie. I know it’s not fair that he doesn’t get to be here for Christmas, but Daddy will come back.” There was a sense of urgency in your voice; you were afraid that if your five-year-old lost the joy in Christmas, you’d somehow failed her as a mother. “He’ll be home for your birthday, I promise,” you whispered.

“You can’t promise,” she reminded you, knowing that you and Spencer were generally very specific about your promises, leaning toward the ‘I promise I’ll try’ variety.

You hummed in response, “I’d pinky promise you that. Dad will be home for your birthday.” You held up your pinky finger, waiting for her to roll over and reciprocate.

Eleanor rolled over, holding up her pinky finger while brown eyes watched you apprehensively, “Okay,” she breathed, hooking your fingers together and kissing them.

As soon as Spencer told you about the bureau’s contingency to him returning to the BAU, you’d done the math. Eleanor’s sixth birthday would fall near the beginning of his next sabbatical, so you didn’t hesitate to make this promise. “It’s time for bed, my girl,” you whispered, smiling at her softly as she pulled the sleeves of her Christmas pajamas over her hands. “Santa can’t come if you’re not asleep,” you reminded her, sitting up on the bed and getting up, tucking her purple comforter under her chin before you made your final stop of the night.

You’d brought Finn to his room before getting the girls settled, but now that you knew they were alright, you came back to his room. The white noise machine was going, and he was fast asleep in his crib. His pacifier, which you were trying to wean him off of, had fallen from his mouth and onto the sheets, so you set it to the side. To you, the second Christmas was always more exciting than the first, now that he was fourteen months old, he had the dexterity to help open presents.

Ruffling his hair, you kissed him goodnight, just like you’d done with the girls, and you left his room, closing the door so that no one would disturb the light-sleeping baby.

There was a late night ahead of you, but first, you settled yourself onto the couch in the living room and pulled out your phone. Upon opening your messages with Spencer, you couldn’t help but be disappointed to find that there was nothing unread. You thought about sending him a text telling him that you all miss him but eventually decided against it. You didn’t want to make him feel guilty. At least, no more guilty than he likely already did.

You turned on the TV, quietly playing a Christmas movie as you began the festivities. All of the gifts had been expertly hidden in the master bedroom, split between being shoved under your bed and in your closet, but a new playhouse for the girls had been dropped off earlier. It was too big for your room, so your parents had stored it in their basement in the interim.

That would be a struggle to bring in from the garage, so you decided to start small, pulling all of the kids’ stockings from their hooks and laying them out on the floor before going upstairs to get the stuffers.

With the movie playing, you filled the stockings with treats and little toys. A few times you imagined your phone buzzing, but each time there was nothing on the screen. The loneliness started to set in as you rehung the stockings, making sure the kids’ names faced forward above the fireplace.

This wasn’t your first Christmas alone, Spencer had been in Idaho for Olivia’s first Christmas, but neither of the girls remembered it.

They’d remember this one, you thought to yourself, walking back up the stairs to grab a load of boxes. Thankfully, they were already wrapped, but you did have to avoid getting ribbon in your mouth as you carried the armful of gifts down the stairs.

Masterfully, you adjusted them beneath the tree, trying to visualize where they’d all end up in the end as you heard something distantly, but you brushed it off as someone leaving your neighbor’s holiday party. You stood up, wiping your hands on your pajamas as you evaluated your handiwork, shrugging before you turned around for the next load, “Oh,” you breathed, watching the handle on the door from the garage turn.

The door opened slowly, revealing your husband on the other side, his black peacoat draped over his arm and purple scarf looped around his neck. He hooked his car keys on the key hook before he noticed you, brown eyes finding your pajama-clad figure. His lopsided smile was all-knowing as always, he knew he had surprised you. In fact, it had been his goal.

You remained exactly where you were, watching him from the den as he put his shoes away and hung up his outerwear. It was almost as if you’d convinced yourself he was a mirage, and any sudden movements would cause his visage to dissipate. “Hey,” Spencer said, cocking his head at you as if he were confused why you hadn’t come any closer to him. He peeked around you to look at the tree, “Did the kids get to bed okay?”

Instead of answering him, your body naturally responded to what seemed like the miraculous appearance of your husband by producing tears. At first, they just welled along your lash line, but as they started to fall, you buried your face in your hands.

Spencer was there, not only in the house but also taking the initiative to approach you, he wrapped his arms around your torso, taking your tearful form under his care, “Is everything alright?” He asked, slowly dragging his hand up and down your spine, humming as you reciprocated his embrace and pressed your face into his shirt, drying your eyes and taking in the moment.

“Everything is wonderful,” you responded, your voice muffled by his shirt. He smelled like stale dark roast and the jet, but you were too relieved by his arrival to truly mind.

Tightening his grip briefly, he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, “Right, well. You’re crying, so I had to make sure,” he murmured, swaying gently to the music coming from the film.

You loosed a breath of relief, “I can’t believe you’re here. The kids were miserable at bedtime, Nell wouldn’t even talk to me until I told her you’ll be home for her birthday,” you informed him, keeping your arms wrapped firmly around him while you tipped your head back to see him.

Spencer nodded in understanding, reaching up a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, “We made the arrest at eight and wrapped up around nine. Somehow, Emily convinced the pilot to leave in the middle of the night, and we were on the jet by ten. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve spent holidays in worse places, but I’d rather be here with you than in Milwaukee.”

“I will kiss Emily Prentiss on the mouth,” you told him candidly.

He raised his brows curiously, “Mhm, and what about me?”

Grinning, you pushed up on your tiptoes and pressed your lips to his, an amalgamation of a welcome home and a Merry Christmas kiss, but you pulled away before you could get carried away. “Merry Christmas, Spencer Reid, we have work to do,” you told him, taking on a mock seriousness as you nodded your head toward the Christmas tree, which only had a fraction of your kids’ gifts beneath it.

“Merry Christmas, darling,” Spencer reciprocated, pressing one more kiss to your lips, “Let’s get started.”

Spinning out of his grip, you found you had much more pep in your step with his arrival, beaming as the two of you went through the house as quietly as possible, gathering the gifts for the kids without rousing any suspicion. Even grabbing the playhouse from the garage didn’t seem like as much of a task with him around.

You adjusted the stockings as it neared two in the morning, Spencer returned from upstairs with the last few gifts, having changed his clothes into pajamas that neatly matched yours—a family set that was a gift from your Penelope. “They look great,” Spencer assured you, pushing his glasses up on his nose as he stood back, admiring your handiwork.

Walking backward until your back was against your chest, you tilted your head to the side, appraising the mountain of gifts beneath the tree, “Do you think we went overboard this year?” Between the gifts from Santa and the gifts from the two of you, the heap was rather intimidating.

“No,” Spencer answered, “bigger kids, bigger gifts.” He put his arms around your waist, resting his chin on top of your head, “besides, they’re good kids.”

You hummed in response, leaning into him ever so slightly. Part of you felt like Spencer was still experiencing guilt surrounding the three months he spent away from you and the kids while he was in prison. No amount of time at home or therapy would ever absolve him of that guilt, but it never hurt to try, “Hey,” you whispered up to him, “I got you something.”

He frowned down at you, “I thought we said no gifts this year?”

Scoffing, you walked over to the home office, “We say that every year and neither of us ever stick to it, so go get whatever it is you got for me.”

Spencer rolled his eyes, but even so, he made his way upstairs to where you knew a gift was hiding in his bedside table. Upon his return, he faltered at the large box you’d placed on the coffee table and held up the small box in his hands; you beamed at him as he eyed the behemoth of a present.

He handed you the smaller box, instinctively, you admired the wrapping before starting to open it, recognizing the jewelry box before you had even discarded your wrapping paper. “Oh, Spence,” you said, looking at the necklace in the box, a dainty chain with five small gemstones on it. His birthstone and yours, followed by Nell’s amethyst, Livvy’s sapphire, and Finn’s tourmaline all strung next to each other, “it’s perfect,” you told him, lightly touching the gems with your fingertips. You’d mentioned wishing you had an everyday necklace a few weeks ago while getting ready, and he must’ve been listening more attentively than you’d thought.

Finally, you had him open his gift, and he was entirely speechless as he opened the cardboard flaps. His mouth gaped as he lifted one of the books in his hand, the title and edition identical to one that had been previously ruined in your house. “Fuck,” he cursed, looking from you to the books and back again.

You shrugged, “It’s not all of them, but a pretty good amount of them. Some of those editions are proving difficult to recover, but I’ve—” You’re cut off, startled by Spencer pressing his lips to yours. “I’m still looking for some,” you said breathlessly once he pulled away.

Spencer seemed unsure of what to do with himself; you’d managed to find replacements for three-fourths of the books that had previously been burned by an accidental fire set earlier this year. The only time your marriage had ever been on the rocks was when Diana lived with you, but even then, you’d been planning this surprise. “You are…” Spencer started, uncharacteristically at a loss for words, “This is incredible,” he told you, shaking his head in disbelief, setting the book down in the box and nearly tackling you in a hug.

Laughing, you buried your face in his shoulder to muffle the sound, “I love you,” you murmured to him, his body now next to yours on the couch.

“I love you too,” he said, looking at you with glassy eyes. “Wow,” he said, sniffling, “I need to get you something else. A necklace isn’t enough,” he told you, likely already thinking of options for addendums.

You shook your head, “Trust me when I tell you that your being here is worth all of the rare books in the world to me,” you reassured him, running your fingers through his hair. Humming, you adjusted your head on the pillow, “Are you gonna fall asleep like this?”

He nodded, “If you keep playing with my hair like that. How long do you think we have until they wake up?” He asked, keeping his eyes closed while you peeked over him to check the time.

Last year, Finn had woken up the whole house on Christmas Day at four in the morning, and seeing as it was nearing three, you wondered if it was worth sleeping at all. You continued combing through Spencer’s hair, “Do you want to go upstairs?”

“This is a really great couch,” he mumbled, already falling asleep on the couch, leading you to grab the blanket that was thrown over the back and haphazardly drape it over the two of you.

Unfortunately, it felt like you’d gotten no sleep at all when you heard the first stirring upstairs, “Mommy,” Olivia called out, which would likely wake up Finn and Nell.

You got up from the couch, waking up Spencer in the process. Your poor husband, who was probably already running on little sleep, got up and folded the blanket you had been using, returning it to its home while you went upstairs to get the kids.

Livvy’s eyes went wide when she saw you come from downstairs, “Did Santa come?” She asked you, nearly bouncing with excitement.

As you expected, the door to Eleanor’s room swung open, revealing your sleep-deprived five-year-old in her rumpled pajamas, “Yes, Santa brought gifts for everyone,” you answered, ruffling her hair before going into Finn’s room, hoping to wake him gently before the voices did a less delicate job. “Hi buddy,” you whispered, looking back to see the girls gathered at the door, completely unaware that their dad was waiting for them downstairs. “Merry Christmas,” you said softly, his scrunched face not processing what you were saying, but happy to see you, nonetheless.

You picked him up from the crib and herded the girls to the stairs, letting them lead the way down while you carried the baby. Right behind them, you watched the realization dawn on their faces as soon as they caught sight of Spencer, “Daddy!” Nell shouted, leading her little sister as they ran to him.

Laughing lightly, you let a squirming Finn down, running to Spencer in the same way the girls just had. From a distance, you watched as all three of your kids entirely bypassed the gifts under the tree and on the mantle and went straight to what was more important—their father was home for Christmas.

Spencer crouched down to get Finn, and at the same time, Livvy jumped in excitement, leaving Spencer falling backward and sitting on the ground while the kids formed a less-than-graceful dog pile on the floor. You took that as your cue to join in on the festivities, kneeling on the floor next to the familial pile, uncontrollable giggles emanated from everyone involved.

You wrangled the two littles in your arms, giving each of them dozens of kisses and receiving more laughter in return as Eleanor settled down. Your eldest took her moment of alone time and laid her head on Spencer’s chest, the grin on her face overtook the rest of her face, “Best Christmas ever,” she whispered before rolling off of him, Spencer instinctively lifting his hand so she doesn’t hit her head on the leg of the coffee table.

Nellie sat up giving you a toothy grin, sticking her tongue through where she was missing a front tooth. Everyone took notice of Olivia pointing at the tree, her mouth shaped like an “o” in awe, “Can we open that one?” She asked, pointing to the largest present in the stack—which, of course, had her name on it.

“Stockings first,” Spencer said, leading to a pout from your middle child, but it was quickly wiped away when he kissed the crown of her head. Your husband got up first, taking Finn from where he was tucked into your side, and set him on his hip, “Okay, who wants their stocking?”

Everyone’s hand went up—including yours.

[hoe4hotchner]

Can you write a story where the reader, a BAU member, is on maternity leave after she and Aaron just had a baby? One day, she goes to the office to bring their daughter to visit Aaron, only to find him in the bullpen with the agent who replaced her while she’s been on leave. The replacement has a crush on Aaron and doesn’t know that he’s married to the reader. The replacement becomes jealous when she sees how much attention Aaron is giving their daughter and confronts the reader, but Aaron gets angry and ends up firing her."

Family first | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader | WC: 1.1k | CW: Fluff, mom!reader, they have a daugther, bitch of a replacement coworker who doesn't know her place.

As you stepped into the all too familiar bullpen you were met with the usual sound of phones ringing, keyboards clicking, and the occasional laughter bubbling up from conversations between team members. You hadn’t stepped foot in the office in months — your maternity leave had been an endless storm of sleepless nights, diaper changes, and indescribable moments of joy. Now, cradling your six-month-old daughter in your arms, you stood at the threshold of the office, taking it all in — realizing how little you'd missed working, as long as you got to spend your time with your daughter.

“Ready to surprise Daddy?” you cooed to your baby, brushing a soft kiss against her fluffy head. She giggled in response, her little hand grasping at your necklace — the one Aaron had gotten you with a charm of your daughter's initial. Her chubby fingers wrapped around the charm, and you couldn’t help but smile at her curiosity.

Heads turned as you had entered, and a wave of warmth spread through you as familiar voices from your friends greeted you.

“Y/N!” Garcia’s exclamation came first as she flew across the bullpen, pulling away from her conversation with Morgan, her colorful dress trailing behind her. “Oh my gosh, let me see that precious little angel!”

You laughed, carefully handing over your daughter as Garcia immediately began cooing at her. Emily, Morgan, and JJ soon gathered around, their faces lighting up at the sight of the baby.

“Look at those cheeks,” Morgan said, his voice soft as he tickled her tiny hand. “Hotch better have her signed up for karate classes already. Gotta keep the boys away.”

“Or girls,” Emily added. “She’s going to be a heartbreaker either way.”

You beamed at their affection, the team’s love for your little family filling your heart. “Where is Aaron?” you asked, glancing toward his office. The blinds were drawn, but you knew he wasn’t inside.

JJ nodded toward the conference room. “He’s in there, showing something to Agent Morrison.”

Your smile faltered slightly at the mention of Morrison, the agent who had been brought in temporarily to cover your leave. You hadn’t met her yet, but you’d heard through the grapevine that she was ambitious, skilled, and confident — maybe a little too confident.

You spotted Aaron through the windows, his back turned as he reviewed what you assumed were some case files with Morrison. He looked relaxed yet tired, his tie slightly loosened, though his usual air of authority remained in place. Morrison stood close to him — a little too close — her laughter ringing out at something he said.

Your lips pressed into a thin line, but you pushed the feeling aside. Aaron was your husband, your partner, and the father of the baby currently making grabby hands at Morgan’s face. You had no reason to feel insecure.

Morgan handed your daughter back to you as you went to greet your husband.

And still, as you approached, you couldn’t help but notice the way Morrison’s body language leaned toward him, her hand brushing his forearm as she laughed again. Aaron didn’t seem to notice — or if he did, he wasn’t encouraging it.

When you reached the conference room, Aaron glanced up, and the moment his eyes met yours, his entire demeanor softened.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice filled with warmth and surprise. His gaze immediately dropped to the baby in your arms, and he stood quickly, coming around the desk to envelop you both in a hug.

“You should’ve told me you were coming,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple before gently brushing a finger across your daughter’s cheek. She squealed in delight, reaching out for him, and he took her into his arms with ease.

“It wouldn’t have been a surprise if I told you,” you replied, grinning as you watched him cradle her. “I figured you could use a break.”

Aaron’s smile widened, and he kissed the baby’s forehead before turning back to you. “I always have time for my girls.”

Morrison’s voice cut into the moment, a hint of confusion lacing her words. “Wait, your girls?”

You turned to her, offering a polite smile. “Hi, I’m Y/N. Aaron’s wife.”

Her eyes widened, darting between you, Aaron, and the baby. “Wife?” she repeated, her tone almost incredulous.

Aaron’s arm settled protectively around your waist as he nodded. “Yes, my wife. Y/N used to work here before going on maternity leave.”

Morrison’s expression shifted, her initial surprise giving way to something more guarded. “Oh. I… I didn’t realize.”

“Well, now you do,” Aaron said firmly, his tone polite but edged with finality, hoping that your visit would make Morrison drop her antics.

The tension in Morrison’s posture was clear as day, but she pasted on a smile. “She’s adorable,” she said, nodding toward the baby. “You’re very lucky.”

Aaron’s grip on you tightened slightly. “I know I am.”

The interaction seemed to conclude there, and Morrison excused herself, claiming she had paperwork to finish. But as the day went on, it became clear that the encounter had unsettled her. You noticed her watching you from across the room, her eyes narrowing whenever Aaron’s attention lingered on you or the baby.

Finally, as you were gathering your things to leave, Morrison approached you near the elevator. Her smile was tight, her tone clipped.

“Can I talk to you for a moment?” she asked, glancing around to ensure no one else was within earshot.

You raised an eyebrow but nodded. “Sure. What’s on your mind?”

Her polite facade dropped almost instantly. “You don’t have to flaunt your relationship in front of everyone,” she said sharply. “It’s unprofessional.”

Your jaw tightened, but you kept your voice calm. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

She scoffed. “You know exactly what I mean. Walking in here with your baby like you own the place, acting like Hotch is your personal property… It’s distracting and completely inappropriate.”

You blinked, stunned by the audacity. Before you could respond, a familiar voice cut through the tension.

“Agent Morrison.”

Aaron’s tone was ice-cold, and you turned to see him standing a few feet away, his expression thunderous. “A word, please. Now.”

Morrison’s face paled as she stammered, “I… I didn’t mean…”

“My office. Now.”

You watched as Aaron led her away, his posture stiff with fury. The bullpen had fallen silent, and you could feel the eyes of your colleagues on you, but you held your head high, refusing to let Morrison’s pettiness rattle you.

Minutes later, Aaron returned, his expression softer but still serious. He placed a hand on your arm, guiding you toward the elevator. “Let’s go home,” he said quietly.

As the elevator doors closed, you glanced up at him. “What happened?”

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Morrison won’t be returning. Her behavior was unacceptable, and I made it clear that we won’t tolerate that kind of attitude here.”

You nodded, your heart swelling with gratitude and love for the man beside you. “Thank you.”

Aaron’s eyes softened as he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “No one disrespects my family,” he said firmly. “No one.”

[kazusys]

— kissing under the mistletoe.

kissing genshin men under the mistletoe! / fluff / no cw / other: you’re not dating in all scenarios! (❕) a/n: i did NOT proofread. but this took me a bit… hope you guys enjoy nonetheless! happy holidays! :)

characters included: albedo, childe, cyno, diluc, kaeya, kazuha, lyney, scaramouche, tighnari, wriothesley, xiao, and zhongli.

wc: ~4.4k words

“relax, it’ll be fine!” he said. “just lead her to the mistletoe when you two are chatting at the party; after all, you both are probably going to stick together the entire time anyways.”

that was kaeya’s advice. of course albedo took it, considering the probabilities of it working due to his insane roster of people fawning over him for just existing. of course he’d be more educated in this area.

but how would he be able to enact said advice if the guy who gave the advice in the first place was busy taking up all your time at the stupid party?

albedo was ready to just head home at this point. there was no point in waiting for you if he was most likely going to chicken out in the end anyways.

a boisterous laugh from kaeya brought albedo out of his little slump as he looked over, watching as the guy pushed you lightly his direction. you seemed… almost bashful. it was cute.

you shuffled through the people dancing and walking around before stopping in front of him.

“hey, ‘bedo.” you smile.

“(y/n), it’s good to see you here.” albedo returned, realizing that besides the initial hello you two shared before you were whisked away elsewhere, this was the first time he’d been able to talk to you tonight.

“good to see you too, i was thinking— there’s this place i wanna show you outside of the party, would you want an escape for a bit?”

he followed you immediately.

the spot was serene. the backdrop of all the constellations and the hanging moon in the sky were in full view, a couple trees here and there adorning the already pleasing landscape. albedo wished he had brought something to paint with, but a mental remembrance would have to do for now.

“it’s… stunning.” he murmured out as you continued walking. you went over to a tree whose leaves leaned forward just a bit, providing some shade. you sat down under it, patting the ground next to you.

this was his sort of paradise. the cool breezes, the quiet atmosphere, the world seemingly frozen as you two sat so close that one movement would have your arms brushing together.

he made that one movement.

you gave him a glance before seemingly staring at the sky. “look up in the branches of the tree.”

he did so without a word, his eyes zeroing in at the singular, small irregularity amongst the greenery of the tree.

mistletoe.

a light blush spread across his face, his eyes widening as they faced yours, which were already staring at him. he forced his expression to go back to being as neutral as he could manage, before cupping your face with one hand and bringing you in for a kiss.

needless to say, kaeya was a good matchmaker.

the holidays have always been a heartwarming time with ajax’s family, not to mention that ever since you joined him, he waits twice as excitedly to see them again.

he loves the domestication of you with his younger siblings, his parents, him; in a warm house with snowflakes floating down amongst the scenic landscape outside and everyone inside away from the troubles of the world. all his loved ones, together, in one place, safe.

taking your hands and spinning you around, he lets go of one to hold your hand as you both sprint to the house ahead. you love how his eyes shine as he knocks on the door, his younger siblings tackling him and squeezing you tightly to the ground with his parents reprimanding them and herding them back inside.

you’re grateful for the warmth of the house as you shed off your winter gear and help ajax get off his as his siblings spout off with questions for him that they couldn’t fit in the letters sent back and forth between them.

at one point, they bring their big brother in to whisper something in hushed voices. ajax chuckles as they scurry off, shaking his head and smiling brightly at you. he almost seems like a kid again, the way his smile reaches far and he looks like he can’t get any happier.

you see teucer poke his head out from behind a wall and beckon ajax over. he goes over, but not without a glance to you showing off the mischievous glint in his eyes.

you wait in anticipation with a smile as you hear everyone with him giggle and push him out with a newly acquired headpiece, a headband with a string attached to a mistletoe.

a few seconds go by with your laughter before ajax teasingly says, “so, are you going to come over here, or?”

you be sure to give a thumbs up to his siblings before tackling him in a hug and bringing him in close for a smooch or two.

“stay still,” you softly chided, “i’m not going to be able to get all this sand out if you don’t.”

“sorry.” cyno replied, glancing back at the ceiling. of all methods…

this was purely tighnari and collei’s doing. they’re the only ones who know cyno’s preferred place to sit as you “help get the bits of persistent sand in his hair” even though he knows that he can do it himself.

when had they placed that there?

cyno quietly sighed as you finished with the ends of his strands, carefully taking off your gloves and putting down your brush on the towels beneath you both.

“alright, then— good night, cyno.” you say as you get up, although hesitant. you wanted to spend more time with him, but with his narrow schedule, you don’t mind putting his rest before your own desires. you wait for him to stand and get off the towels, which he does, before cradling them in a way so that the sand on top of them won’t spill. you give a small “bye, sleep well,” before turning to leave.

you feel his coarse fingers delicately wrap around your upper arm, a gasp leaving your lips as he pulled you back with a force that you’d be able to escape from if you wanted to.

“cy—”

“look up.”

you do as told.

as soon as your eyes meet the red and green symbol, you feel the same fingers that pulled you to him hold your chin, bringing your focus to him.

he speaks through the meeting of your eyes, and you allow him with a response of your lips against his.

he separates after a bit before diving back in. after such a small taste of paradise, he can’t help but want more.

of course someone put a mistletoe above the doorway of the tavern. and of course he didn’t remove it incase you came by today. and of course kaeya teased him for it.

no matter how annoying, he’d go through it if it meant you’d come to him at the end of the day.

and that you did.

you rushed past the door in excitement to tell him about your hectic, but interesting, day as diluc ignored the knowing stare he got from the calvary captain.

with a small smile, you two stayed talking until midnight, when diluc finished cleaning and closed up the tavern.

“i’ll see you tomorrow, ‘luc.” you smile, as he does the same despite his diminishing hope at being able to kiss you under the protruding plant that you two were still standing under.

just as he came to the conclusion that he’d have to be the one who’d initiate the kiss, you leaned in close to place a kiss on the corner of his lips. “you’re obvious when you want something, you know that?”

he chuckled a bit after he recovered. “you just know me well.”

he put a hand on the side of your face and pulled you in again.

“your office is so… bland. for someone like you, i expected at least some interesting decorations especially during this season.”

“‘for someone like you’?” kaeya rose an eyebrow, eyeing the box you set on his desk. “and furthermore, i haven’t had the time to decorate for the season! i’m always busy with work or spending time with you.”

“or at the tavern,” you pointed out, taking items and sorting them out across the floor from the box. “hmm, red or blue?”

“both. and what if i was just waiting for you to come in and help me since we both did a pretty good job last year?” it wasn’t a total lie. he was waiting for you, but only to be able to spend more time together.

“straight line or dips? then i think that’d be a lie,” you countered, “after all, your office was as brightly adorned as the outside all those years back before i came in to help.”

“on the walls? straight would be easier. dips would look good on the desk, though.” kaeya said as he adjusted some of the ribbons he fluffed out. “i like your company.”

a smile creased your features as you stayed quiet at the thought for a few seconds before replying with a “i like yours, too.”

eventually, you both stepped back to revel the sight. you sipped the last bits of the now lukewarm drink kaeya brought for you earlier. you remembered the way your fingers brushed against each other and the small spark that you hoped he shared.

you felt him brush a piece of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear.

when did he get so close?

he tilted your head up to the ceiling, your heart beating fast and resounding in your ears.

and then he kissed you, soft and delicately.

amidst the glowing lights and cheery decor, nothing could’ve matched the high spirits you and kaeya were feeling right then and there.

kazuha's observant. he always has been. so he’ll always know when you’re not giving yourself as much love as you should be. case in point…

“i know that i am not the most perfected in this art…” says the guy who can make cussing sound flowery and sweet sounding, “but i made this small book for you. it’s full of haikus and other forms of poetry containing everything i find attractive about you.”

you take the quite hefty book full of papers and some apparent trinkets sticking out of some of the pages (like flowers that remind him of you and such) with care. its title is (y/n), my muse and eternity.

you can’t seem to find your words. “kazuha… this is…”

he smiles at how happy you look.

he knows that insecurities are far from that of the like of small insects and the such, in which you can just kill them with a little flick or small press of a youth’s finger.

insecurities are plagues, brought from hell itself to block out what objectivity sees.

he knows that his words won’t be enough to quell your troubles permanently, but he’ll damn well try just to see that smile and see you free from what’s trapping you in that moment.

he flips the pages to the end where papers face you devoid of ink. he gestures above, where a small plant glistens amidst the dull space where you two are seated. you swear that wasn’t there when you walked in.

you feel him slowly trace your arm, as if asking permission to pull you closer. you lace your fingers together, relishing in the warmth of his presence as you let yourself come closer.

his lips meet yours, soft as his appearance but as passionate as his dreams and ambitions.

and when you two come apart, he takes ink and a quill from a nearby table and fills in the blank page with new words, swiftly getting the mistletoe from above to tuck into the pages like a bookmark.

lips—

with the snow falling

in the slumber of the world

Heaven-sent are they

with warmth to my days

with feelings of home in you

paradise is found

“a private show right now?” you softly laugh.

“exactly! and you’re in for a treat today— i picked up a book per someone’s recommendation about the significance of different flowers and their meanings! and i will incorporate that in the trick i’m about to show you!” he spouted excitedly, bowing in front of you as he usually does before a performance.

“well then, let’s see what you’ve got for me today that’s different than all the other shows you’ve already shown me!” you say, sitting in the chair he prepared ahead of time.

he smiles. taking his hat off again, he swirls his fingers over the opening.

“oh, it seems there’s something stuck; give me a second…” and with a yank, out he pulls a bouquet of rainbow roses. he offers them to you with a warm grin.

you take it with wide eyes, holding it close to you as you relish in how your fingers brushed against his and the remembrance of the meaning of these flowers.

taking advantage of the proximity, lyney brushes back a piece of your hair, reaching behind your ear and pulling out a piece of mistletoe with small buds blossoming on the branches.

you feel your face become unbearably hot.

he leans in to whisper. “this part isn’t a trick, by the way… these flowers represent my feelings rather well, i think. do you accept them?”

you can feel your heart pounding as you nod, his lips reaching yours as soon as you do. it’s passionate, just as the flowers represent.

once you both pull back, he says, “how do you rate your performance?”

“i’ll rate it ten out of ten if you kiss me again.”

he does. 10/10!!

what a stupid touchy feeling tradition. absolutely stupid. absolutely not worth his time setting up just because of your stupid romantic fantasies.

well, i guess that makes him stupid, then.

if all goes wrong, he has at least five back-up plans ready. so there’s nothing to lose, right?

except maybe possibly hopefully the norm of friendship you two have changing into something more.

but, he knows that if his hopes are set too high, they can come crashing down more hurtful than falling from a fifty-story skyscraper.

so he settles for stomping out his icky hopes and dreams for this encounter in favor of not going insane. at most, you were probably going to just peck him on the cheek as a ‘friendly gesture’. or slap him altogether.

it was still a good ten minutes or so before your designated meeting time, so he closed his eyes and waited beneath one of the shady areas of the forest hangout you both discussed on, listening for the sound of your footsteps. to his mild surprise, he heard them coming just a few minutes later.

you emerged from the trees, your eyes widening a bit before smiling to seemingly cover it up. “scara’! sorry, did i make you wait for long?”

he shook his head, eyeing the basket you were holding before meeting your gaze. “you’re fine. i just arrived.” which was a lie, he came extra early to prepare.

“that’s good to hear. i met with the traveler a few days ago, and he taught me a few new recipes. i was wondering if you’d like to try them out?” you say, taking a small picnic blanket out. scaramouche offered to take it as he spread it out under the tree he was leaning against.

“sounds good, your cooking’s always something i look forward to.” he replied, throwing that compliment in for good measure.

you laugh softly, opening the basket and setting out the dishes. he can’t help but notice a certain small plant in there as well for a brief second before it’s gone, covered by a few napkins shifting around as you arrange the food and utensils.

ah. well…

he stops you momentarily, gently moving your hands off the basket as he brings it closer to himself, knelt down as he rummages through it and pulls out the small piece of mistletoe inside.

you’re quick to talk. “oh, that’s… that’s just a lucky charm i carry around. i… a friendsaidthat it’s supposed to bring good luck! and fortune! and i brought it to ensure that you wouldn’t uh—get food poisoning or something, y’know? or so that i won’—!”

you’re startled by scaramouche pulling you to your feet, a smirk on his face as his hands trail up to your face. his thumbs trace the sides of it as he says, “if you look up, i’m sure you’ll find something very confidence-boosting.”

you do.

he slowly leans in, like he’s seen other couples do. and he swears you’re something else and that something zapped his lips and spread through the rest of his body, because the moment your lips met it felt as if a small electrocution was taking place in each part of his being.

it’s almost so overwhelming that he also swears that he can feel his own heartbeat in there. what did you do?

a small paradise of his own, and he plans on never losing it.

(also something ate a portion your food— it wasn’t you or scaramouche— but hey, at least that means that he can spend time with you cooking that same dish again!)

sleeping out in the forest can be difficult, but for people like tighnari, you just get used to it.

however, that’s not the case this time around with the only sound that his ears seem to be registering being the sounds of you outside your tent, sitting on a stump, writing in your plant/personal(? he thinks?) journal, and very much awake after he told you to rest up for tomorrow.

he sighs, getting up. he’s not letting you do this.

you immediately turn your head to the sound of him exiting his tent, knowing you’re in for an earful about taking proper care of yourself. you know he cares, but at least wait until you’re finished writing these last few words…

“i told you at least an hour ago to head to sleep. you’ll need the energy for tomorrow.” he walks closer, ending in front of you with a hand on his hip, which he drops as soon as you look up at him.

“i know, but…”

“you can fill in whatever you want to fill in tomorrow. come on.” he gently ushers you to your feet, taking your hand and confiscating your notebook.

“tighn—!”

“i’ll give it back tomorrow. i don’t trust you not to write in it in your tent.” he leaves no room for complaint, evading all your attempts in retrieving the book until you eventually give up with a more than devastated look.

you reluctantly lie down, tighnari watching you till you put your covers over yourself.

“good night, (y/n),” he gives a small smile, “tell me if anything nearby irritates your senses. i won’t mind being waken up for that.”

and with that, he leaves.

he spares a glance at the notebook in his hand, still open to the page you were writing on. he had no intentions of reading it, but when your name’s written down in someone’s time, you’re bound to be curious why.

𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘰𝘦

𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺

— 𝘴𝘺𝘮𝘣𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴, 𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥…

you’ve certainly done your research. after swiftly skimming through that portion…

𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴

— 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘪 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴? 𝘢 𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵: 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘺. 𝘪 𝘥𝘰𝘶𝘣𝘵 𝘩𝘦’𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩, 𝘣𝘶𝘵

that’s where it ends. in the book, a small mistletoe plant is nestled in between the pages. tighnari can feel his face heat and his tail jerking around excitedly behind him, prompting him to take a deep breath to calm down. it’s no use, really.

you like him?

he can’t help the smile that flutters up, taking the plant out and dropping off your notebook in his tent.

he goes over to yours, knocking his foot against the rocks outside as a sort of doorbell. he knows you’re awake.

meanwhile, you’re panicking and on the verge of running out and taking your chances in the dangers of the forest in the dark. you hear his knocking.

“you read it.” you manage from behind the curtain like doors. “i’m sor—”

“may i come in?”

he hears you inhale deeply. hesitant footsteps make their way over, opening the entrance to him.

immediately, he takes your hand. lifting his other arm, the mistletoe he has a hold of dangles above you both.

“i would,” is all he says before his lips press against yours.

both of your worlds spin, and every other noise in the avidya forest blurs away.

when you separate, he’s the first to speak with rosy cheeks decorating his features.

“mistletoe is also categorized as a parasitic plant, meaning it depends on other plants to survive by drawing nutrients from them. be sure to add that to your journal.”

“tighnari.”

he kisses you again in apology.

“your knuckles are all bruised again…” you mutter, taking his hands into your own. you brush your thumbs over the especially calloused areas.

“it’s really no big deal…” he murmurs, thinking you to be sweet for caring so heavily about him.

you get your bandages out. “are there any other places that are injured that i should know about?”

he shakes his head no, but then answers verbally realizing that with your eyes focusing on his hands, you probably didn’t see.

a couple minutes later and you’re done, a lot sooner than wriothesley would’ve wanted.

“flex your fingers.” he does so. you take the hand you just bandaged to fix one loose end. “i think that’s it…”

he subconsciously holds your hand in his. as per tradition— a sort of inside joke between you two— you bring his fingers to your lips and kiss his bandaged knuckles with a smile.

when you do the same to the other hand, he chuckles. you look at his head tilted upwards, looking up at the ceiling. you trail up as well, your eyes widening for a moment.

“it looks like sigewinne must’ve slipped in and done some decorating for me. we don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

you recall her words from a few days ago to you. “well, if you don’t make a move soon, don’t be surprised when i intervene.”

you meet his eyes. he looks… bashful? embarrassed?

you gather up your confidence before it evaporates and move up to kiss him.

He stiffens before melting into the kiss, bringing you closer with the hand not holding yours on the small of your back and the other intertwining your fingers.

he chased your lips after you separated, and well; you both didn’t leave his office for a bit.

you definitely made sure to hug and give sigewinne a new sticker sheet afterwards.

you thought up the idea a while back, but never acted on it. xiao was… well, xiao. you simply didn’t think he’d like it, especially if he didn’t like you in that way. that’d just be awkward.

so you never did it, until one day after you consulted zhongli.

“it seems he does feel the same way, after all the talks we’ve shared of the topic being you, to whom he speaks very highly of.”

you smile at the thought now as you sit beside xiao, explaining the topic of mistletoe, which apparently he overheard from some people walking past that he wanted to learn about. what he heard you don’t know, so you prompt to start from the very beginning from its origins all the way to its tradition.

he stays quiet with a few questions throughout your speech, seemingly deep in thought.

you think that’s a good sign.

when you’re done, you look at him only to find him already staring at you.

“would you want to do that with me?”

your eyes widen at the sudden sentence before you throw out a response. “yes, i would.”

“i’ll be right back.” and before you can say anything, he vanishes. he comes back a few minutes later with something in his hand. a small mistletoe.

you stand up to his level, eyeing the blush beginning to spread across his face.

you smile serenely, taking his hand holding the plant and raising it above your heads. you then take the lead and lean in to kiss him.

in all of his years of being alive, xiao thinks he’s never felt so… actually alive. it’s always like that around you. you take him away from the automatic responses he gives and seemingly endless monotony that is slaying monsters and the sort. you give him some sort of essence he can’t describe that he’s been lacking all these years, decades, centuries, millenniums.

he loves you so dearly.

and when you separate, he finds himself seeking more, pulling you closer and kissing you again.

it’s his sort of reward for suffering for so long without this, he supposes.

“it’s rather late,” zhongli glanced over at the night sky, “shall we get going?”

you nod. “thanks for accompanying me today; though, i still feel guilty for taking up your time…”

he gives you a reassuring smile. “it is of no concern. i was not particularly busy, and any time spent with you is never wasted.”

you smile back. “you flatter me too much.”

“it is not as if you do not deserve it.” he responds. you can’t help but widen your smile. he continues speaking. “you’re staying over at the baiju guesthouse for now until your renovations are completed, correct?”

“i am! it’s been pleasant so far, and the decorations adorning the building for the season are definitely a sight to wake up to!”

a good amount of talking later, and finally at around midnight, you both arrive.

“i’m afraid i now must apologize for taking up your time, you ought to rest for tomorrow. shall we meet up soon?” his expression is soothing, but if you look a little deeper, a small glint in his eyes shows a bit of hopefulness and something else.

“of course, and…” you trail off, glancing up at the archway you two are standing under in front of the guesthouse. “happy holidays, zhongli.”

you quickly kiss him on the cheek before hurrying away, leaving a stunned zhongli in your wake, hand to the place where you kissed him, seemingly in awe.

he says your name delicately, like a sacred word meant to be worshipped. you stop your hand on the door, turning your head over to see him reach for your hands and spinning you around.

a small intake of air leaves you as he walks you both back under the mistletoe above that you spotted earlier. he then leans in close.

“may i?”

and you close the distance.

happy holidays indeed.

©️kazusys — 24/12/24; do not plagiarize/steal, repost, translate, and/or claim any of my works as your own.

[gurugirl]

Quiet Xmas Morning blurb | bfd!harry

⋆꙳•❅‧ ☃️‧❆ ₊⋆

Summary: Your heart is full and you have so much to be thankful for on Christmas.

A/n: I know it's not very long but there's a lot of new things in this one. If you haven't already, I'd suggest reading the previous part before you read this.

Word Count: 1,507

Warning: soft fluffy cuteness - no warnings!

best friend's dad!harry masterlist

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

The house was warm and quiet as you sat in the glider chair with your newborn in your arms. She was falling asleep slowly. She'd suckle and then her eyes would lull shut before she'd startle herself awake and start to pull at your nipple like a ravenous animal again. You smiled and smoothed your fingers over the soft hair on her head. It'd only been a week and a half since she was born but you already felt like she was your everything. It surprised you how deeply you already loved her.

Elara came a little early but you were ready for her. Harry said she wanted to make it in time for Christmas. She had to be monitored for a few extra days but she was healthy and she was perfect.

You saw the glow from the Christmas tree lights filtering into her room from downstairs and then heard a little rustling. Harry must have also been up. He was sleeping when you got up to feed the baby but he often would wake up when you'd get up. It was still something to get used to. You were more exhausted than you'd ever been in your life but maybe that explained why you were so deliriously in love with her.

Her suckling grew weak again, little eyes closed, and then… she was fast asleep. After waiting a few minutes, just in case, you carefully and gently got up from the chair and tiptoed to her crib to lower her down all without waking her.

She was perfect. Yes. That was true. But she was easy to wake and she'd cry for hours if she was woken up before she was ready.

Harry stood behind you and placed a hand on your shoulder as he looked down at your little creation with you. He knew better than to even whisper so you both just smiled at one another before quietly padding out of her room and closing the door behind you.

Your body was still sore. You knew it would take time to get back to feeling like yourself. Even walking downstairs felt like something was going to knock loose and fall out of your body. Harry held your hand.

"Merry Christmas, Mama," he kissed your lips softly when you got to the first floor.

The living room was dark except for the soft golden lights wrapped around the faux Christmas tree. You preferred a real one normally but it was too much work that year. Plus the smell bothered you when you and Harry had gone to check out the tree farm weeks earlier.

"Got your gift under the tree," he motioned.

You looked under the tree to see one small box with a bow. You hadn't wrapped any of Harry's and they were all tucked away, hidden in the closet in the basement.

"I didn't wrap yours. I'm sorry," you reached up to cup his face and he brought an arm around your back.

"You already gave me the best present I could ever ask for."

You grinned, "That I did. But you played a major role in that gift. So technically I could consider that a gift from you as well."

He grinned and pressed his lips to yours, "I'd say my role was very minor. All I had to do was get off a few times. You did all the hard work. All the stuff that counts."

A laugh puffed from your lips, "Okay. That I agree with."

You smelled coffee suddenly and realized Harry was making a pot.

"Decaf." He raised his brows at you. You were staying away from caffeine since you were breastfeeding. The doctor said you could have a little bit every day but Elara was fussy enough as it was. The last thing you wanted was a grouchy, angry baby hocked up on traces of caffeine.

"My mouth is watering," you spoke with a smile.

"Why don't you sit down and I'll get your coffee. Then we can open up your Christmas present."

Harry frothed a little milk for you while he took his coffee black. Even he was drinking decaf when he could have just had regular. He walked back into the living quietly, two steaming mugs in hand before handing you yours and sitting his down on the coffee table.

You took a sip as he reached under the tree to pull out the small red box. It had a small golden ribbon tied around it.

"What is it?" You held your palm out as he placed the box down into your hand.

"Well, you have to open it up first."

Taking another quick sip of your coffee before you leaned forward to place the ceramic mug down you looked at Harry with a big grin. The glittering lights from the tree were twinkling off his eyes as he looked down at the box and then up at your face.

You pulled at the ribbon and then paused when he sat up, about to push himself off the cushion, "What are you doing?"

He swallowed and you noticed that he suddenly seemed nervous, anxious. He shook his head and shrugged, "Nothing. Was just getting comfortable is all."

You squinted at him as he looked down at your hand. Then it was your turn for the nerves to take over. You couldn't be sure what was in the box but something told you that it was going to change everything. You knew Harry very well and his sudden excitement had your heart pounding in your chest. And given the size of the box…

"Harry…" you blinked your eyes and placed your hand over the lid as you swallowed.

"Just open it, baby. See what it is." He was still sitting at the edge of the cushion, watching you as you pulled the lid off. Inside was another, smaller box—a jewelry box.

You inhaled and looked up at him. He wore a soft smile on his face as he tensed his arms, like he was about to spring from the couch.

The moment you placed your fingers on the velvet-hinged top to lift it, he pushed himself onto his knees and scooted in between your thighs as the beautiful little shining diamond glinted from inside the box. A ring. But not just any ring.

He waited for a beat, his eyes on yours as your jaw dropped and you covered your mouth before looking at him in surprise.

Harry took the ring out of the box and held it between his thumb and pointer finger, "I love you. I want forever with you, Y/n. I know we're not in a rush but I couldn't wait another moment to put a ring on your finger. Tell the whole world you're mine."

You gasped out a quiet sob and just as he was about to continue you leaned forward and wrapped your arms around his neck to kiss him hard. You never imagined that you'd cry when he finally proposed but of course, your hormones were all out of whack and you'd been finding yourself crying for the smallest things lately.

He laughed when you pecked kisses over his cheek, "Yes, Harry…"

"Baby, I didn't even finish th—"

You smushed your lips over his again, swallowing his words as he pulled you into his arms until you were in his lap on the floor between the couch and the coffee table.

"I love you, Harry…" You smeared your lips down to his jaw and he chuckled quietly.

"Gonna put it on?"

Pulling away from him, you looked down at his hand and spread your fingers out for him to slip the ring onto your finger. It was dainty and perfect—one small diamond at the top, set in white gold. You held your hand up, and you admired the way it looked on your hand for a moment.

Harry wrapped his big palm around yours and pulled your hand up to his mouth, "That's a yes? You'll marry me?"

You sputtered a laugh and nodded, "Of course I will."

He kissed your knuckles and grinned at you before you pulled your hand away and wrapped your arms around his neck to squeeze him tight. Harry tucked his face into your hair and put his arms around your back.

It was going to be the best Christmas day ever. Fae would be coming by for a couple of hours and then your parents later in the evening. Telling everyone you were finally engaged would be exciting but the best part was that you and Harry had the most precious gift lying upstairs sleeping already.

You placed your hand over his chest and ran your nose against his, "I'm so happy, Harry. I love you so much."

He shifted his legs and ran a big palm up your back, "That's all I want, for you to be happy, Y/n."

Harry got exactly what he wanted because you'd never been as happy as you were in that moment.

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[dahlibae]

COME HOME WITH ME.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

(wanda maximoff x fem!reader)

summary — Wanda brought you home to meet her parents for the first time this Christmas, but for some reason, the woman is unable to keep her hands off you.

warning(s) — christmas drabble: age gap couple, alternative universe, mistletoe kisses, older!wanda, smut(?), nipple sucking, teasing (18+)

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

The windshield wipers swiped rhythmically against the steady drizzle of snow as Wanda drove down the winding road towards her childhood home. The air inside the car was warm, the scent of fresh pine from a little tree-shaped air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror mixing with the lingering aroma of cinnamon from the hot chocolate you shared at the last rest stop. Wanda sat beside you, her gloved hand that wasn’t focused on driving the vehicle occasionally pointed out landmarks from her past—a diner she swore made the best cherry pie, the park where she and Pietro used to sled down the biggest hill, and the bridge where she'd once dared him to climb to the top… all for him to fall off and break his arm.

Her voice softened when she spoke about her parents. “They’ll love you.” She said, more to herself than to you, but you caught the edge of nervousness in her tone. She hadn’t brought home a partner since Vision – her ex husband – and you were, well, nothing like him. For one, you were a woman and her parents weren’t even aware of their daughter’s sexuality. And two, you were quite younger than her. You reached over, resting a hand on hers. She gave you a quick smile before looking back out the window.

The sky dimmed as she turned onto a long, snow-covered driveway lined with bare trees. At the end of it stood a cozy two-story house, its windows glowing golden against the winter evening. A wreath decorated the front door, and string lights framed the roofline, casting a cheerful, twinkling light over the yard. Wanda inhaled deeply as she parked, then turned to you.“Ready?” She asked, her voice almost teasing. You nodded, though your heart thudded nervously.

⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

The warmth of the house embraced you immediately as you stepped inside, the scent of freshly baked cookies and coffee filling the air. Wanda’s mother - Iryna - greeted you with a hug that was surprisingly strong for her petite frame, her Sokovian accent making her words feel like a soft melody. Her - Olek - father shook your hand firmly, his eyes kind yet probing. He was staggeringly tall, even taller than her twin brother who must’ve been over six foot. It was clear Wanda took after him the most. Pietro wasn’t far behind, slapping you on the back with a grin that matched Wanda’s when she was up to something mischievous. You had met him before. He had came over to Wanda’s house one day, not expecting his sister to have anyone over, but found you… underneath her.

In no time, you were sat on the couch, a little overwhelmed but charmed by Wanda’s mother after she had led you deeper into the living room, already firing off a million questions. Wanda was sitting next to you, her hand occasionally brushing against yours as she joined in on her mother’s conversation with you, before she was whisked away, leaving you defenceless against her mother.

Pietro had been mischievous all evening. Every so often, you’d catch him whispering to Wanda or their dad before smirking in your direction. You figured he was just enjoying teasing his sister about bringing someone home for the holidays, and him being the only person in the room to know prior to Christmas.

You had finally settled in once Wanda had made her way back to your side, when Pietro suddenly appeared, a gleam in his eye. In his hand was a sprig of mistletoe, held high above you both. "Look at this!" He announced, drawing everyone’s attention. "A little holiday magic, right here!"

Your face went warm immediately, and you caught Wanda's eye. She looked equally surprised, her cheeks flushed. Her parents chuckled softly, sharing a knowing glance.

"Pietro.” Wanda warned, her tone half-amused, half-exasperated.

"But, sis, it’s tradition!" He declared, unapologetic, holding the mistletoe steady above the two of you. "You wouldn’t want to break tradition now, would you?"

You glanced at Wanda, unsure of what to do. Her eyes met yours, and for a moment, the noise of the room seemed to fade. Then, before you could think too much, she leaned in. Her hands cupped your cheeks, and her lips pressed softly against yours. The kiss was gentle but sure; family friendly and yet still managed to send warmth spreading through you like the glow of the fire.

When she pulled back, her eyes lingered on yours, a mix of shyness and confidence in her expression. Around you, the room erupted in playful cheers, Pietro’s laughter loudest of all.

“Guess you really like tradition, sis. He teased, earning a glare from Wanda that only made him laugh harder.

Her mother chimed in, her voice warm. “It’s good to see you happy, my love.”

“Thank you, Mama.” Wanda voiced before reaching for your hand, intertwining her fingers with yours as she leaned closer, ignoring Pietro’s continued antics. “Sorry about him,” she murmured, her voice just for you, “he lives for chaos.”

You smiled, squeezing her hand. “I don’t mind.”

She tilted her head, studying you for a moment before breaking into a soft smile. “Good,” she said, her voice almost a whisper, before she placed another quick kiss to your lips.

Afterwards, dinner was a whirlwind of laughter, clinking glasses, and stories that made Wanda groan and bury her face in her hands. You noticed how her family’s teasing only made her more endearing, her cheeks permanently flushed pink with a mix of embarrassment and affection. A reaction you’d rarely see with the older woman. By the time dessert was served, you felt more at ease, the initial nervousness melting away as Wanda reached under the table to squeeze your hand.

Later that night, after the dishes had been cleared and her family had gone to bed, you found yourself in Wanda’s old room. It was smaller than you expected, the walls painted a soft lavender and adorned with faded posters of bands and movies from her teenage years. You wouldn’t admit it to the woman but some of these bands you had no clue of. A small Christmas tree sat in the corner, its ornaments mismatched but charming, clearly a collection built over the years. She sat cross-legged on the bed, watching you with a soft smile as you took in the space. “It’s weird being back here,” she admitted, “so much has changed, but this room... it’s like time stood still.”

You nodded, moving to sit beside her. “It’s nice,” you said honestly. “It feels like you.”

Her smile widened as she leaned against your shoulder. The house was quiet now, save for the faint creaks of the old wood settling, the muffled sound of wind outside and the series coming from her brother’s room. For a moment, you simply sat there, soaking in the stillness, the glow of the little tree casting a soft light across the room. “Thank you for coming,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “It means a lot to me.”

You turned to her, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

“Baby, no, stop, we’ll get caught.” You whispered, voice barely audible over the TV show playing in the background. Your hands hovered over her waist, unsure whether to pull her closer or gently push her away. Now, she was straddling your lap, her warm breath fanning against the crook of your neck. Her lips, teasing as usual, trailed wet kisses down to your collarbone, sending shivers coursing through your body. You bit your lip to keep from making a sound, every nerve in your body screaming at you to give in to her touch.

“Wanda.” You pleaded again, though your voice lacked conviction, and your hands had finally settled on her waist, fingertips brushing against the soft material of her open blouse. She chuckled softly, the sound low and sultry, vibrating against your skin.

"What’s the matter, baby?" She murmured, voice dripping with mischief. She nipped at your pulse, her teeth grazing your skin just enough to make your breath hitch. "Afraid someone will hear?"

You tilted your head back against the headboard, your gaze darting toward the door. It was closed, but the faint sound of her brother’s TV reminded you just how thin the walls were. "We’re in your parents' house.” You hissed, though your grip on her waist tightened as she rolled her hips into yours again.

"And?" She teased, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. Her green ones sparkled with a mix of amusement and desire, a smirk playing on her lips. Her red hair was slightly tousled, and the glow of the fireplace painted her cheeks a soft pink.

You swallowed hard, your resolve crumbling under her gaze. “And you know I can’t keep quiet.” You pouted, hoping to win some sympathy from her - it usually worked.

“Aw, that’s okay.” She leaned back and you thought you had won, until you noticed her reaching for her remote to turn the volume of her TV up. “I can just help you keep quiet.” She leaned in once again, brushing her nose against yours, her breath warm against your lips. Before you could protest further, her lips claimed yours in a heated kiss - much more intense than the last. Your hands moved of their own accord, sliding up her back and pulling her closer as her hips rocked harder against yours.

⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

“Look at me, princess.”

You were laid on your back. Your clothes and bra long forgotten as they were flung from your body and onto the floor next to hers. You felt Wanda shift from beside you, her body no longer pressed against yours, as her hands began to push your legs apart, placing herself between them. It didn’t take long for her fingers to find you, making slow circles against you through your soaked panties. “Is this what you want?” She asked, but you couldn’t respond, too wrapped up in the pleasure of her fingers and the sight of her breasts pooling over her bra.

She took your silence as an answer.

“No? You don’t?” Her fingers slowed, now trailing up and down, just missing your clit.

“No, please!” You cried out, hips bucking into her touch. “I mean, I- please, Wands.”

She shushed you, leaning over to place soft soothing kisses against your lips. “It’s okay, baby. Tell me what you want.”

“Need you to touch me.” You replied without a breath, no longer concerned if her family heard you or not. She pressed her lips firmer against yours, tongue softly stroking against yours as she hummed her approval into your mouth.

“Okay, princess. Remember to stay quiet, okay? We don’t want to wake anyone up.” You felt your body clench at her words, as her head ducked, tongue swiping against your nipple, she has sucked between her lips.

“My good girl,” she mumbled, your nipple pulled from between her teeth as she switched to the other. “I love you.”

“Love you too.” You managed to say between whines.

Wanda rewarded you by pulling your panties down, fingers rolling tight circles around your nerves until you came with her name spilling from your lips, and into her curls, as she held you in her arms.

⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

[starboye]

starring: bucky barnes x male reader

request: Hey, can you write a Bucky x bottom male reader smut? Y/N is a crossdresser and shows Bucky his new lingerie.

warnings: smut, sweet pet names, fingering innuendos, cursing

this was buckys favorite time of the week, you had just went out shopping with all your friends and bought home some new sexy clothes to try on and you know you have to give him a walk through of it all, trying and the different clothes and asking for his opinion on it, but it seems todays items were a little different.

"and what's these darling" bucky asks picking up a piece of lacy underwear from the bag before you snatch them away "i'll show you later" you smile skipping your way into the bathroom, bucky could hear you all giggly as you put on the slutty clothes seeing as you might be a little long he sat down on the couch, legs spread wide open waiting for his babyboy.

"so what do you think" you asks walking out in some sultry lingerie that had bucky quickly closing his legs to hide his growing erection "fuckin' hell you're gonna be the death of me darling" bucky muttered taking your hand and spinning you around to admire how the little clothing clung to your body so well before he pulled you onto his lap.

"wait i have to show you the other ones" you try to push off him but he pulls you right back to him and starts kissing your neck "no i wanna get a closer look at this one" bucky says leaving hickeys across your collarbone, his cold metal hand reaching down to grope your ass while his human on kept a tight grip on your neck.

"you look so fuckin' sexy y/n" he says pulling the underwear down to run his metallic fingers over your hole "no bucky not that one" you warn him before he caught his mistake and brought his human hand down to start fingering you open when he felt something wet already there, w-was that lube?

"already ready for me huh baby" bucky chuckles watching how you turn embarrassed as he figures out you wanted him to fuck you "i just need it bucky" you cling to him, arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders and he gives in, lifting you up slightly to finally free his aching hard cock to you which you instinctively try to touch "nope not this time darling let me take care of it" bucky coos.

he spits into his hand before lathering that on his cock, making sure it's nice and wet before he slides it into your tight hole, sucking him in so easily like a good boy, his hands find their way around your hips and bounce you up and down on his cock, listening to your moan out whimpers and whines as you feel his grip tighten on you.

"fuck bucky" you whine hiding your face in the crook of his neck, the scruffiness of his beard itching at your cheeks, he chuckled as he watch you struggle to handle him as if you guys didn't fuck just before you left today "you like that sweetcheeks" bucky teases you, his movements into you becoming rougher and rougher as he feels his climax creeping up.

"where do you want it" bucky quickly asks, reveling in the sound when you say "inside me daddy" with that whiny little voice making him cum on the spot, heavy breathes leaving both your mouths until bucky finally spoke up "how 'bout you show me that other outfit huh" he said jokingly but you actually did, limping your way to try on the next set of lingerie that would end up the same one that one has.

taglist:@mailmango @spermeboy @ghostking4m @gayaristocrat @addictedtomalepits @staarb0y @crispysoup318 @its-ares @gargoylesworld09 @znerac

[writersrkive]

Light | Aaron Hotchner

summary: since a few days ago, you have been distracted. Something about the holidays and Christmas is triggering to you. Apparently, the team doesn't notice this, but your boss, of course, does. He is troubled, but when you say that you are sick on Christmas Eve, right before dinner, he is ready to go with you and keep you company. He also appears with a small gift that can cheer you up.

genre: angst, hurt, comfort.

pairing: Aaron Hotchner x bau!gn!reader

warning: holidays and Christmas being a nostalgic/sad holiday to reader, mention of reader not being from Virginia, family issues (reader), reader is new member of the team, allusion of an age gap (not specific), reader being called "kid" two or three times.

a/n: so... maybe I projected myself a bit into this fic. I hope whoever feels like the main character feels some comfort and understanding here. I'm sorry if there's anything wrong with the writing, I haven't edited yet, but I wanted it posted before Christmas (it's 11pm in my country). English isn't my first language, please be kind <3. Merry Christmas reader, thank you for being here one more year! I'm proud of you.

Masterlist Spanish ver. On Wattpad (coming soon)

Christmas isn't what it was a few years ago, but neither was your family. When you decided to move to Virginia, far from home, it was hard for you because despite having a broken family, the feeling of wanting to fix everything for everyone was still there. The holidays, especially Christmas, brought back memories of when everything was fine —or so it seemed—.

The dynamic of the team was like a family, but as the newest member —and one of the youngest— it was hard to feel completely into it. However, you didn't feel as isolated as you did at first. So, they didn't notice how nostalgic and sad your aura was the days before.

Oh, but Aaron, your boss, did.

It started the day that some workmates decorated the office with a mini Christmas tree, lights and bows. Everyone was heading home, except him, as usual. The paper work ended so the stoic man was closing the door of his office when he noticed the way you were standing in front of the tree, almost giving him your back. He could see half of the profile he caught himself admiring often. The lights were reflected in the sad look similar to that of a child hoping to obtain something impossible.

“Why are you still here?” He asked, not scolding, but rather with curiosity.

“Oh, good night Hotch. I was finishing some paperwork.” Your expression showed that you had come out of a trance.

“Are you done?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Maybe we can walk to our cars together.”

“Sure.”

He didn't try to make small talk. The feeling of tiredness was in the air, but he also felt that he shouldn't try to break down any kind of personal barrier that you had at that moment. Because despite showing a friendly smile, it was obvious that your mind was somewhere else.

Then, a few days later, you were distracted by something peculiar.

“Hey, are you okay?” Derek asked when he noticed that you weren't listening to his theories. Hotch was talking to a police officer, but he was looking at the way your workmate and you were analyzing the crime scene. “Are you cold?” His teasing smile made you chuckle slightly.

“Yeah. I still haven't gotten used to the weather, sorry.” The lie went unnoticed by your colleague. They were profilers, but you were one too, so it was kind of easy to fake certain things. It wasn't right, but at that time of the year you just wanted to survive. Besides, you couldn't tell them anything, not because you didn't trust them, but because it was too much to handle.

Across the street, Aaron looked in the direction you were looking before Derek spoke to you. It was a park a few blocks away. There was an ice rink, giant decorations, and lots of families gathered around. What could that place have to distract you so much?

There were many other occasions like that. The last time was on Christmas Eve. Months ago, Penelope had decided to buy an instant camera to take photos of the team inside and outside of work, when they had days off.

“Here it is, my beautiful fellas!” The blonde said excitedly. “Your handmade Christmas gift!”

She made all of you sit around the table, so she could put in the center the sparkling red notebook, with silver letters. 'Memories at the BAU' could be read.

“Garcia! It's so beautiful!” Emily said, smiling. Derek hugged his friend in appreciation and JJ got closer to Emily so she could see better.

“Look at that. Always a great time for pasta.” Rossi joked looking at one of the pictures where he could be seen making pasta for dinner after a heavy case.

“Always looking good.” Derek said pointing at a picture of him posing with one of the plushies García had at her office.

“Look at us! But why do you look so sad?” JJ joked looking at a group photo. You could be seen at the back with a forced smile.

“I was a little tired, sorry.” You answered, but the reality was that you had received some messages from your family minutes before that photo was taken.

“Hey, why did you take a photo of me taking a nap?” The confused tone in Spencer's voice made you laugh a little, but Aaron noticed the way your eyes didn't light up.

“Does anyone know where our newest member is?” Derek asked, smiling. He can't help but remember the way Emily, JJ and he teased you before. You started to get late to a few compromises —it happened at work once or twice—, but your boss didn't scold you like he would scold anyone else on the team. “He has a soft spot for someone.” Derek playfully twitched that time, thinking the bags under your eyes weren't caused by anything but work —he was wrong—.

“The kid just sent a message to the group chat.” Rossi announced.

“Sick?” Penelope showed her worry, reading your message.

Aaron felt a weird pinch on the chest. He immediately got even more worried than everyone in Rossi's house, even if his face just tensed a little bit more than usual. In his mind he debated whether to go with you to make sure you were okay, even though it might be intrusive.

Maybe you needed space….

Or maybe there was something else you weren't telling them, just like he noticed before.

“Am… I think I'm a little bit sick too.” He whispered after a while.

“What? We are about to eat dinner.” Emily said a little sad. She was worried about the team's health now that Aaron and you were sick.

“I'll be fine. I'm going to take some food with me in case I get hungry later." His movements were a little fast, as if in a hurry.

“Are you sure you don't need a medic, Aaron?” His old friend said and the boss could sense a little teasing in his tone.

“I'm good, I just need to go right now. I'll see you tomorrow. Everyone, please be safe.” The team could sense sincerity in those words when he gave them one last look, after he took the food, his jacket and his keys, and before stepping out of the house.

“Kid is gonna have some company.” Derek teased and everyone, including Reid, smiled knowing what was going on.

Both of you were surprised when you opened the door. He didn't expect to see you with red puffy eyes and nose, and you didn't expect him there, in front of your house, holding some tuppers with food and something else tangled in his arms.

“Hotch?” Your furrowed eyebrows and tilted head made his chest feel warm. You looked confused and also cute. He felt a little bad to think like that when something was wrong with you.

“I needed to make sure you were okay.” That's all he said.

“Oh… Am… I'm just a little…”

“Sick? I don't think so. You have been acting weird, and Christmas has something to do with that. I know because apparently it triggers something that makes you… sad.” His voice was soft. It felt like he didn't want to expose you, but he needed to show how much he knew about the situation. “I don't think you actually fool them. At least, not now. Maybe in the beginning, but that wasn't my case.” But you did feel exposed, even a little ashamed. The lack of movement told Hotch that you were uncomfortable. “I'm sorry…”

“It's okay. I guess it's impossible to fool S.S.A. Aaron Hotchner.” You showed a sad smile, it was more like a grin. “Wait, what about Jack?”

“He's with his aunt. They were on a trip I couldn't join because of obvious reasons. I guess we can keep each other company.” Little by little he had begun to show a smile that was contagious to you.

“Sure.”

When he walked in he noticed the lack of decorations on the surroundings. There was just a small tree at the back of a hall. It had a start at the top and had some lights and spheres. That was it.

“I'm sorry if I'm being intrusive, but can I ask what's wrong?” he asked when you started to help him to put the food on two plates.

You sighted thinking about all the things you needed to explain so you could give him an answer. “It's complicated. I don't know if I wanna talk about that.”

“That's okay. Then, can you tell me how you are feeling?”

You smiled, knowing he changed the question so as not to make you feel uncomfortable, while still keeping in mind the fact that he needed to know how you were feeling. “Everything brings memories. I'm supposed to be with my family, but what family?” I asked, sitting next to him in the kitchen. “Sometimes I wish things were like before, like having a time machine and just going there: where everyone was. Now I know how heavy the family issues were, but I was a kid so at least I was living in a lie… a good lie.”

“I know family is complicated. There's people who hurt other people, and that's not right, but there's too much.”

“Exactly…”

“But you have a family here too, now.” He whispered. And the way he looked at you made you feel like you weren't alone, at least not how you have thought.

“That's why I bring Rossi's lasagna with me. He's gonna be sad if you don't get to try it.”

Dinner was good. Of course you loved Rossi's cooking, but you came to the conclusion that it was because of the company of your boss. He helped a lot by distracting you, chatting about Jack, some plans outside of work and various things. After a few hours you couldn't handle your curiosity anymore.

“Hotch, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, what is it?” Apparently, your question took him by surprise, perhaps it was the tone in which you spoke to him, almost tenderly.

“What is that?” You pointed at what he left coiled up on the armrest of one of the sofas in your living room. It looked like a silver wire with transparent stuff on it.

“These are Jack's favorite lights. We bought it a few years ago. He loved them until we bought a set of identical, larger lights. Do you want to see?”

“Yes!” Your childish tone made him smile.

He untangled the lights and plugged them into the nearest socket, quickly his hands and the place where the lights rested shone brightly.

“Wow…” It was almost a whisper, but Aaron enjoyed the answer as if it was a shout of joy. “These are beautiful.”

“I knew you liked the lights.”

“Huh? Oh! You mean the night when you caught me staring at the…”

“Yeah.”

“Well, yeah, I liked lights. I think I've always liked them, but at some point the feeling became sad."

“They are for you.”

“No, but, Jack…”

“Like I said, he has new ones, so, there's no problem. He will love that you have them.”

“Can you help me to…” You hesitated.

“Sure. Let's go, where do you want them?”

A fun playlist invaded your house. While Hotch held a ladder and watched your back to see if you lost your balance, you placed the string of lights in the living room window.

“Can you turn them on?” You asked him gently. The decorated window came to life as did your eyes and Aaron couldn't feel calmer as he admired your excited countenance.

“I'm glad you liked them.”

Suddenly, cries of excitement were heard from neighboring houses and some Christmas songs began to play from the speakers of nearby restaurants even louder.

“Merry Christmas, Hotch.” You said when you came down from the ladder. The man who came to brighten your night didn't think that seeing your expression would fill his chest with warmth.

“Merry Christmas, kid.”

You definitely didn't know or would have imagined that the man who watched your back at work was what you needed to feel better. He brought the light you needed for days.

[leascorner]

j.b.b | The Grinch

Summary: Y/N can’t travel to see her family on Christmas so she invite her grumpy loner neighbour, Bucky.

Pairing:  Post blip!Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Warnings: Use of Y/N and feminine pronoums, a few mentions of food and alcohol, angst, some vulgar language, everything is in the summary really, this is set like the falcon and the winter soldier never happened or it's happening before that.

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: This is the 4th Xmas OS of the series. So sorry it is a couple of days late. Please do share and like if you enjoyed it, it means a lot! Merry Christmas!

2024 Christmas Masterlist | Main Masterlist

18th of December

$125

Y/N blinked at the number being displayed on her phone’s screen. She had stopped right in the middle of what she was doing, in utter disbelief of her discovery. Her whole process of thoughts seemed to have frozen; just like her computer would display “error 404” when she would perform contradictory actions.

She didn’t understand how this was possible; something was wrong obviously wrong because she didn’t expect this number to be displayed. Refusing what she was seeing, she logged out of the app and then back in a couple of times.

Yet, every time, the sentence was the same.

$125

Despite everything, this was currently the amount of money Y/N had on her bank account. These past couple of months, she had been saving for this moment; a moment she had been imagining all year long and for which she expected to be shredding happy tears. Instead, the tears currently running down her cheeks were made of pure anger.

She found the culprit quite easily. A monthly interest payment of a loan that was playfully mocking her on top of her bank statement. Now that she was thinking of it, she should have probably read all those letters; the ones with the red-inked stamp “urgent” printed on them. She had found all the excuses in the world: especially how exhaustive was she after having worked double shifts almost every day lately or that it had just been easier to have them sitting on her coffee table.

Y/N had no idea what she would do. If $125 was probably quite enough to eat until the end of the month if she made a few compromises, there was no way she would be able to buy flight tickets to get home for Christmas. She would have brought them earlier if she had been able to – at a time she still had the money on her bank account, for example – but her colleague had only confirmed that same day they could take over her shifts during the Christmas week. Now, she didn’t have any money and would be alone for the year-end celebration.

Her cell phone ringing made her snap back to reality. She was still in front of her building, keys in one hand, frozen in her action to enter. Her heart sunk has she discovered the picture displayed on the screen; her sister and her, one of the last pictures they had taken together, at Y/N’s university graduation ceremony, a couple of weeks before the blip. Her sister was most likely calling her about this “very good news” Y/N had texted her about that afternoon. Now, she only had to let her know that it had been a false alarm and that she wouldn’t be able to make it home this year.

Again.

It wouldn’t be the first time indeed. In fact, ever since the blip had been reversed, Y/N had not been home for the Christmas. At first, she had chosen not to. She was the only person in her family to have been gone. Without her, they all had continued with their lives, and the post-blip had been brutal for her. One second, she was full of life: she had just gotten an amazing job in New York, and she was going to live her dream. The other, the blip had happened, five years had passed, and she had lost everything. Her family, her job, herself. Her little sister was now older than her, graduating college and ready to start a family. Her parents had retired and started a new life in California. She didn’t have a dream job anymore; she had no job at all in fact. In this world that had changed so much, she felt out of places. So, she did what she thought was could do. She left everyone behind and moved to New York.

The months after moving there had been full of hope. Hope that she could still make it to her dream job and life after all. She had gotten in touch with associations working on helping people post-blip. They said: if she took a few classes, she could be retrained on the most up to date information and she would be able to get the job she had always dreamt of after all. Yet, it was even worse than college. She had to work part-time to be able to take the night classes. She either worked or studied; leaving only a few minutes a day to eat, sleep and bath. This was until some court bailiffs came banging to her door. The banks had been quick to be back to find the people that had disappeared and were now asking them to provide the past five years’ debt payment. All of her dreams had been shattered yet again.

Determined not to ask for help, Y/N stayed in New York and totally forgot about her dreams. Instead, she found another job at a bar-restaurant – one that paid better than the cashier part-time job she had until that – and worked there ever since, trying to pay off her initial student loan and the other loan she had had to take to be able to repay the requested five-years’ worth of debt in one go. She was now planning every spendings up to the last penny. She was living off diluted body and hair shower gel and all sorts of techniques to have the impression of having eaten a lot more than she had. Yet, it hadn’t been enough.

It was never enough…

Drying off her tears, she answered her phone and stuck it against her ear with her shoulder while she entered the building. She was quick to break the news to her sister. She kept her voice steady, not showing any emotions to shorten the conversation as much as possible. She did so as she collected her mail and then turned to take the stairs up to her apartment.

On the phone, Y/N didn’t see her neighbour coming down the stairs and eventually run straight into him. She would have fallen down the two steps she had just climbed if he hadn’t caught up by the arms at the very last moment.

"For fuck’s sake!" he sighed angrily. "Can’t you watch where you’re going?"

Y/N only answered by rolling her eyes. She picked up her phone from the floor; her sister was still on the line, calling after her. While she turned it to her, she discovered her screen totally shattered. She would have cried if she could have…

Without further ado, she put her phone back to her ear and continued to go up the stairs. Her neighbour – a guy that moved in a couple of months ago and that was hardly saying ‘hello’ the few times they had seen each other in the hall – huffed and without thinking nor turning back, Y/N flipped him off. She would probably be ashamed of this later, but at that moment, she couldn’t care less of what he would think of her.

She couldn’t care less about anything anyway.

20th of December

Two days later, as Y/N was slowly accepting the fact that she would not be with her family for Christmas, she encountered her favourite neighbour in the hall again.

She had just gotten home from work and was collecting a parcel in her letterbox. This was a present for her sister that she wouldn’t be able to give her in the end and for which she couldn’t even pay stamp to ship it to her home. She would be lucky if she could return it and get a few dollars back.

As she was closing her letterbox, her neighbour entered the hall. Feeling a little guilty about the other night, Y/N’s first thought was to apologies for her behaviour. A quick look at the guy and the constant frown on his face made her swallow her saliva; hard.

He was good-looking though, with his blue-piercing eyes and full lips. The stubble on his chin –always of the same length whenever she would see him – let her think that he was taking care of himself; though the way he dressed was clearly demonstrating he wasn’t really on point on the fashion side. If he wasn’t always so… whatever he always was… she probably would have liked him. With his grumpy looks, he reminded her of this movie character she liked so much when she was a kid: the Grinch.

In silence, Y/N watched from the corner of her eyes as he also checked his mailbox, a couple of meters away from hers. After gathering the few letters in the box, he sighed and abruptly closed the door.

“What now?” he asked as he turned to her.

Y/N jumped to the tone of his voice. He was clearly annoyed at her while she hadn’t done anything. At least that day.

“No need to be a dick,” she quickly bit back, annoyance building up in her voice as much as his, and he huffed again – this seemed to be something he would do a lot. She had to take a quick deep breath before continuing: "I wanted to… apology for the other night.”

The words nearly burnt her mouth as she was saying them. It cost her a lot to admit her wrongs, yet his cold eyes only started at her, and he spoke no words back. She didn’t know how she wanted him to react, but his absence of reaction startled her, and only made her want to justify herself further.

“I wasn’t in a good mood,” she added.

“You are not the only one to have bad days,” was all he said before leaving.

Taken aback, Y/N watched as he climbed the stairs and disappeared out of his sight. She couldn’t believe how much of a jerk he had been. She swore this was the last time she would ever speak to him.

22nd of December

Y/N rarely overslept.

The only reason for that was that she didn’t sleep a lot. Ever since the blip, she had trouble finding sleep and then, staying asleep. It was like her body had a big fear of missing out on everything and anything, so it just let her sleep the number of hours she needed to keep going. She would have thought that with the double shifts she was doing, she would have slept better, but she didn’t. Instead, she stayed wide awake in her bed, fixing the ceiling, eyes heavy with tiredness. She had all this time to think about the misery of her own life.

However, it seemed that night that the tiredness had gotten the most out of her, and as she never set an alarm clock – because she rarely needed, she was now going to be late for work. She took only a couple of minutes to get ready, drink a coffee and brush her teeth all at the same times. Ten minutes later, she was already grabbing her stuff and putting her coat on.

As she opened the door of her apartment, she came face-to-face with her neighbour going up the stairs. They both immediately stopped in their tracks.

He looked at her. Her eyes still puffy from the fact she had still been sleeping less than fifteen minutes ago. Hair all other the place even if she had put hair clips in them to keep them into place. She had dressed up in such a hurry, the shirt of her uniform was halfway in and halfway out of her pants.

She looked at him looking at her. With the same frown on his face and the same cold glance. Just this time, the circles around his eyes were darker than ever and he looked much more tired than her. For the first time, she saw something vulnerable in him, a flash of sadness in the blankness of his face.

They looked at one another. So different yet somehow similar. With their inability to sleep properly, the memories that kept them up at night and their resentment about this life that had been taken away from them. Both of them with all their trauma and weaknesses. With their constant melancholy and sometimes, their good days.

They looked at each other some more and then they both continued on with their day.

24th of December

Y/N was just settling on her couch – which was also her bed – in front of the TV, wrapped in her fluffy blanket and two pairs of fleece socks on her feet when she heard a knock on her door. She froze instantly; bad memories coming back to her in an instant. She had been visited a few times by different people always banging on her door at sunrise; each time, it never had ended well. Per pure reflex, she held her breath as if whoever was on her front door would be able to hear her - the walls were probably thin, but not this thin.

After counting to ten and not hearing anything else, she relaxed into her sofa. It was probably just her imagination at this point, this was how tired she was. She reached for the remote on the coffee table and started an episode of her favourite TV show. This was when she heard a knock for the second time. One time too many for her.

This time she paused her show and got on her feet to have a look. Sulking for the five steps it took her to go to the front door, she opened it bluntly and was surprised to find her neighbour ‘The Grinch’.

He looked at her, surprised and she looked at him, probably even more surprised. Her gaze turned instinctively to her feet and the fluffy pyjamas she was wearing. She couldn’t help the heat crawling up her neck, so she looked back to him and her eyes got stuck on his hands. One of flesh and one of metal. Holding a metal box between them. That he was now holding up to her.

She frowned.

“For you.”

Her eyes moved up to his face again, to check if he was serious or not. She could have fallen asleep the minutes her show started and be dreaming; though from how cold her feet were, she was pretty sure she wasn’t. Nothing on his face indicated he was joking – he didn’t seem to be the type to joke anyway. He wasn’t actually frowning, but he still had a small wrinkle in between his two eyebrows from all the frowning he was doing that somehow it still looked like he was. She wouldn’t say the expression on his face was friendly, but it had something that for once made her not want to close the door on his face.

Perhaps, it was because of the straight line his lips were in. They which were was usually so pink and so… luscious. From that, she couldn’t tell what he was feeling right now – was he nervous? Or simply contemplating all his life choices now that he was in front of her. She knew it was costing him to be here in front of her.

She looked back at the metal box in his hands; was he really expecting her to take it?

“My ma’ used to cook cookies for our neighbours,” he stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. His glance adverted to the ceiling as if he was looking for the right words to continue: “I thought maybe… this was a good way to apologize. For the other day…and all the times before that.”

This time, it was Y/N’s time to stop frowning – she would have to check later if she had also a wrinkle. She took the box he was handing her and nodded, in some sort of way to mean ‘thank you’. The box was heavier than she had expected it to be. She wondered if he had made them himself, like his ‘ma’ was probably doing.

“My name is Bucky by the way.” Was all he said before leaving her like that, a box of cookies in her hands.

25th of December

Working at a restaurant had its own perks. One of them being that Y/N could have at least one meal a day in the form of the staff meal. And on special occasions – like today – she could even get home with leftovers, most of them she would normally stock up in her freezer to make sure she had something to eat in the next couple of days.

That day though, when she climbed up the stairs, she didn’t stop on the second floor where her apartment was. Instead, her feet got her to the fourth floor, on the second door on the right. One she had never been to and yet, she knew exactly where to find it.

She didn’t hesitate one second before knocking, though the few seconds she had to wait she did get cold feet and wonder if it was really a good idea. Bucky did have gifted her handmade cookies – she had eaten a couple after he left while watching her favourite show, and it was the best she probably ever had. However, it did not mean they were now friends. They were just two adults, seeing each other in the hall of their building sometimes. That was all… Then, why was she so damned pulled towards him?

Bucky opened the door when she was about to turn around. He had a blank tank top and black pants on. Thankfully, he did not seem to be in the middle of a Christmas dinner and his apartment was pretty quiet behind him. His usual frown had been replaced by raised eyebrows. He was surprised to see her, on Christmas day, in her work clothes, at his door. He would have probably expected her to be in her family, with her friends or boyfriend, even. Instead, she had nowhere better to be than in front of him, right now.

They stared at each other for what seemed to be a long time, before his cat – Alpine as he called after, while trying to stop it to get outside his apartment – came to rub itself against her legs. She immediately lowered herself to scratch it behind the ear and Bucky observed them without a word. His cat, who was usually more than a little fearful of people it didn't know, was on the verge of lying down on the floor and beg for belly rubs.

“Are you on your own too?” was the only thing he spoke, and she got back on her feet, suddenly remembering why she was actually here.

“Wanna share?” she asked while showing him the paper bag in which she had the leftovers from the restaurant.

His eyes scanned her face a little too long for Y/N’s liking that she grew nervous. She felt like an idiot, believing… whatever – she wasn’t even sure she was believing. She was just lonely, having been alone for too long. The only people she hung out with would be her colleagues, on her work time – and they had taken a drink together after work a time or two. Most of them were students or only planning to be in the job for a couple of months before bouncing back. None of them was like her, as if she had been the only one to disappear off of the surface of the earth.

Over the last few years, she had repeated to herself – over and over again – that she didn’t need anyone. It was true somehow; she was fine alone. It was just that today she wanted a break from all of this, and she had thought of him. Because she had seen the veil before his eyes. She had seen it on hers before. She knew why… He was just like her. And perhaps, she had thought, they could be alone together. That was what they called the Christmas spirit, no?

“I mean, I’ve got more than enough, and you can have some. We don’t need to eat together. Totally fine if you wish to be alone.” She overexplained, speaking so fast he couldn’t say a word, even if he wanted to. She was just going to go home anyway. It was probably already late in the day; she would eat some food because she could – it was a victory on its own. “And you’ve probably already eaten, it’s fine. Don’t mind me.”

She was going to turn around, but he stepped on the side, making room for her to get in. Alpine instantly trotted in, its tail straight as a pick.

“I’ve got Gin,” was all he said again. A man of a few words he was.

And that was how they would both of them spent their first Christmases with someone in years. They would drink gin, try a bit of every leftover Y/N had gotten and finish by some kind of French pastry neither of them knew how it was named. They would speak for hours – or sort of, it was a few words here and there, making sentences altogether. They would have a good time and when it was time for Y/N to go home, she would suggest doing it again and Bucky would smile in response. A soft smile that would warm her heart forever. A smile that illuminated his whole face and probably his life.

And perhaps that was what exactly what she had come to find that night.

Some warmth.

[puckstories]

Sweet Girl | Quinn Hughes

Pairing; Dad!Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warning(s); None I believe. Fluff, established relationship, pregnancy + birth (ish), only edited once

Summary; The three times Quinn spoke to your belly + the one time he spoke to your baby

Word Count; 5.5k

Author’s note; I love this fic so much, I might make it a universe since I'm a sucker for girl dads + I'm not ready to give baby Scar and Quinn up (: As usual, any thoughts + reblogs are appreciated. Thank you for all of the support! -Honey

When you heard a knock on the door, and opened it to find a package from Amazon sitting on your doorstep, your first thought was that it must be for Quinn. It wasn’t unusual for him to order things online, especially when he was on the road and needed something shipped to the house. And though you often used his Prime account to order things for yourself too, this time you were sure you hadn’t ordered anything recently. You bent down to pick it up, the familiar brown box light in your hands as you brought it inside.

Glancing at the label, you furrowed your brow slightly. It had your name on it, but nothing about it gave you any clue what was inside. Shrugging it off, you left the package on the nightstand by Quinn's side of the bed, figuring it was something he'd ordered for himself, maybe some last-minute necessity he’d remembered while traveling.

The hours passed, and with the Canucks playing in Minnesota on another road game stint, you didn’t give much thought to the package sitting by the bed. It wasn’t until later that night, after the game, that you got a FaceTime call from Quinn. The familiar ping of your phone lit up the screen, and you smiled as his name appeared. You answered quickly, eager to see his face after missing him more than you'd care to admit.

“Hey,” you greeted, smiling softly when his face appeared on your screen. His hair was still damp from his postgame shower, strands falling messily over his forehead, and the sight of him looking relaxed in his hotel room after a win sent a warm feeling through your chest.

“Hey, baby,” Quinn replied, his voice soft, but with a touch of fatigue. You could tell he was still riding the post-game high, but the exhaustion of the season was starting to creep in.

You both spent a few minutes catching up—him telling you about the game, the energy in the arena, and you sharing small details about your day, filling in the little gaps left by his absence. The conversation flowed easily, like it always did, but then, as the conversation lulled, Quinn’s brow furrowed slightly, like he’d remembered something.

“Did you get the package?” he asked suddenly, his voice casual but with a hint of elation as he adjusted the phone, leaning back against the headboard of his hotel bed.

You blinked in surprise, momentarily confused. "Package?" you echoed, your mind flipping back to the brown box you’d left on the nightstand. "Oh, yeah! That came this morning. I wasn’t sure what it was, so I just left it on your side of the bed."

A small smile tugged at the corners of Quinn’s lips, but he shook his head, his eyes softening as he looked at you through the screen. "It’s not for me," he said, his voice a little lower, with that familiar warmth that always made your heart flutter. “It’s for you, for us. I ordered it.”

Surprise flickered across your face, and you shifted in your seat, suddenly curious. "Really?" Your heart gave a little skip. Quinn wasn’t one to make a big deal out of surprises, but when he did, they were always thoughtful, something that showed how much attention he paid to the little details of your life.

He nodded, a small grin pulling at his lips as he watched your reaction. "Yeah. Go open it," he urged, his voice playful now, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

A flutter of excitement bubbled up inside you as you stood up from the couch and padded into the bedroom, phone in hand, feeling suddenly giddy. You picked up the box from the nightstand, shaking it lightly, though it didn’t give away much about what was inside. Setting your phone down on the bed so Quinn could still see you, you grabbed the nearest pair of scissors and sat down on the plush comforter, carefully slicing through the tape, your curiosity growing with every second.

"Any hints?" you asked as you opened the flaps of the box, glancing up at the screen to see him smiling.

"Not a chance," he replied, his voice filled with that playful mischief that always made your heart skip. "You’ll see in a second."

Inside the package, nestled among the packing paper, is a small green-and-white box that immediately catches your eye. You pull it out, flipping it over in your hands to examine the front. The box is labeled "Bellybuds," and your brow furrows slightly in curiosity. You’ve never heard of it before, and the image of a pregnant woman with small adhesive speakers attached to her belly leaves you wondering what exactly this is.

You hold it up toward your phone, angling it so Quinn can see the box through the screen. "What is this?" you ask, amusement coloring your voice as you turn it over again, your fingers lightly tracing the packaging.

On the other side of the phone, Quinn's face lights up, a playful grin spreading across his lips. "It's headphones... for babygirl," he says, his voice warm and filled with excitement, like a child presenting their favorite toy. "We can talk to her, play music, and stuff. Thought it'd be nice for her to hear us more clearly."

A small laugh escapes your lips, the sound light against the stillness of the room, as you glance down at your baby bump, gently resting your free hand on the slight curve of your belly. You look back at the screen, shaking your head affectionately at him. "But we already talk to her all the time," you say with a smile, "do we really need these?"

Quinn shrugs a little, but there’s a certain softness in the way he does it, a sheepish look crossing his face. His grin doesn’t fade, though—if anything, it only deepens as he watches your reaction, his eyes bright with affection. "I figured it could be fun," he admits, his voice quieter now, the tone laced with a hint of vulnerability that tugs at your heart. "You know... just something special we can do. I thought maybe she’d like hearing music, or hearing us talk to her in a different way."

You feel a warmth bloom in your chest at his words, a gentle wave of affection washing over you. The thought of Quinn, so excited to connect with your unborn daughter, to create memories and bonds even before she arrives—it fills you with a deep sense of love for him. He’s always been thoughtful, but there’s something about this moment, something about the quiet sincerity in his voice, that makes your heart swell.

You lower the box slightly, your hand still resting on your belly as you glance down at it again. The idea of playing music for her, of letting her hear the rhythm of your favorite songs, or of Quinn’s voice as he talks to her when he’s away on trips, suddenly feels incredibly sweet and meaningful.

"You’re so sweet," you murmur, lifting your gaze back to him, your voice soft and filled with affection. "I didn’t even think of something like this. But I love it."

Quinn’s grin widens at your words, his eyes crinkling at the corners as a flush of pride washes over his face. "I’m glad," he says, his tone lighter now, clearly pleased with himself. "Figured it was something a little different. Plus, I can play her some good music while I’m gone. Gotta get her used to my playlists early," he adds with a chuckle.

A snort escapes you, as you shake your head. "Right, because I’m sure she’s going to love Counting Crows just as much as you do," you tease, your smile growing as you imagine him curating a playlist of all his favorite songs just for her.

"Hey, she’ll have great taste, thanks to me," he replies, feigning mock offense, but there’s a twinkle in his eyes that tells you he’s enjoying the playful banter as much as you are. "She’s gonna be the coolest kid around, trust me."

You roll your eyes with a grin, but your heart swells with warmth at the thought of the two of you already imagining what kind of music she’ll like, how she’ll react to the sounds of your voices. It makes everything feel more real, more tangible—like your little family is slowly but surely coming together.

You open the box carefully, pulling out the small circular speakers, running your fingers over the smooth surface. The adhesive pads are meant to stick to your belly, gently transmitting sound into your womb.

"You know," you begin, your gaze flickering back to the phone screen, "I think it’ll be really nice. She’ll get to hear your voice more often when you’re away for games... it’ll be like you’re still here, even when you’re not."

Quinn’s expression softens at that, his grin fading into something more tender, more intimate. "Yeah," he murmurs, his voice filled with a quiet warmth. "That’s exactly what I was hoping for. I hate being away, especially now. But this... I thought it could help. Like, she’ll know I’m still with you two, even when I’m on the road."

Your heart flutters at his words, and you can feel the emotions welling up inside you, your eyes watering as you look at him. The way he talks about your daughter, the way he’s so thoughtful and attentive to both of you, makes you fall in love with him even more. You bite your lip, a smile spreading across your face as you press your hand a little more firmly against your belly, feeling the weight of your daughter resting there.

"She’s going to love hearing your voice," you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. "And so will I."

1

"Hey there, sweet girl," Quinn’s voice is a low, soothing murmur, barely above a whisper, as he speaks into the microphone of his phone. "Daddy here," he adds softly, his tone filled with warmth and tenderness, like every word is wrapped in love.

He shifts carefully on the bed, moving slowly so as not to disturb you from your deep sleep. The dim light from his phone screen casts a soft glow over the room, the only sound being the quiet hum of the fan and the gentle rise and fall of your breath. Quinn settles back against the pillows, adjusting himself so he can be closer to you, his body leaning into your side.

His free hand reaches out, fingertips grazing the soft fabric of your tank top before gently coming to rest on the curve of your baby bump. His touch is light, reverent, like he’s afraid he might wake you if he presses too hard. But even in your sleep, the warmth of his hand resting on your belly sends a sense of comfort through you, as though even unconsciously, your body knows that he's there. His thumb starts moving in slow, gentle circles over your bump, a calming rhythm that has become second nature to him—his way of connecting with both of you.

His eyes soften as he gazes down at the swell of your stomach, where your baby girl is growing, nestled safely inside you. The sight still fills him with awe every time he sees it—the miracle of life forming between you both, the quiet anticipation of becoming a father. He leans closer, careful not to disturb the Bellybuds that are attached to your bump, the small adhesive pads delivering his voice directly to the baby through the connected cord in the phone.

"Just wanted to let you know how much I love you," he whispers softly, his voice low and full of affection. "Before I go to sleep tonight."

The corners of his lips twitch into a small smile as he speaks, his thumb continuing its gentle movements over your belly, tracing slow, lazy circles. He takes a deep breath, letting the moment wash over him. It’s something he’s done often lately—these quiet talks with your baby girl before bed. He knows she might not fully understand, but the thought of her possibly hearing his voice, growing familiar with the sound of her dad, fills him with a sense of happiness he can’t quite put into words.

"I had a long day, and I know you’re probably resting too," he continues, his voice steady but filled with a kind of quiet wonder. "But I couldn’t let the night end without saying goodnight." He leans forward just slightly, brushing a soft kiss against the top of your belly, the warmth of his lips barely touching your skin. "I can’t wait to meet you, sweet girl. Every day, I think about what it’s going to be like when you’re finally here with us."

There’s a pause as he glances up at you, still sound asleep beside him, your breathing steady and peaceful. The room feels still, but in a way that makes everything feel more intimate, more present. His eyes flicker back down to your belly, the small life growing inside, and he feels the overwhelming sense of love flood him once again—an emotion so strong it almost takes his breath away.

"I promise I’ll always take care of you," Quinn whispers into the microphone, his voice dropping even lower, as though he’s sharing a secret just between him and his daughter. "And your mom, too. We’re a team, the three of us. And I’m gonna do my best to make sure you have everything you need, to keep you safe, and to love you more than anything in this world."

His hand moves slightly, his palm now resting flat against the curve of your belly, feeling the faint, subtle movements beneath. Sometimes, when the timing is right, he can feel her respond, little kicks or shifts, as though she knows he’s there. It’s in those moments that the reality of fatherhood feels most real to him, the little reminders that soon, she’ll be here in his arms.

"You’re already so loved, you know that?" he murmurs, his voice soft and tender as he speaks into the microphone, his gaze never leaving your bump. "Your mom and I... we talk about you all the time. What you’ll be like, what you’ll look like. I think you’re going to be perfect. And I can’t wait to see who you become."

The weight of his words lingers in the air, and Quinn takes another breath, feeling the warmth of your body beside him, the closeness of your shared space. He glances back at you, his heart swelling with affection as he takes in the peaceful look on your face, the way you look so serene in your sleep. He leans over, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, his lips brushing lightly against your skin.

"I’m so lucky to have you," he whispers, his voice barely audible, meant only for your sleeping ears. "Both of you."

For a long moment, Quinn just lays there, his hand resting protectively over your belly, his heart full of so much love he can barely contain it. He thinks about the future—the late-night feedings, the first steps, the endless love he’s ready to give to both you and your daughter. It all feels so real, so close, and he can’t help but feel grateful for everything you’ve built together.

After a few more moments of quiet, he shifts slightly, letting out a soft sigh as his hand lingers on your bump one last time. "Goodnight, sweet girl," he whispers softly into the microphone, his voice full of tenderness and love. "I’ll see you soon."

2

"Hey there, sweet girl, Daddy here." Quinn speaks into the microphone of his phone, the sound laced with a soft chuckle as he follows you around the kitchen, making sure the Bellybuds stay securely attached to your baby bump. Every step you take, he mirrors, careful not to let the wires tangle or the pads come loose.

You roll your eyes but can’t hide the smile that tugs at your lips as you shuffle around the counter. "Quinn, I’m trying to cook," you say, your tone a mix of amusement and exasperation as you glance over your shoulder at him.

"It’s not my fault Mommy got out of bed before I could say good morning, right, sweet girl?" His grin widens as he speaks into the phone, leaning in slightly as though your daughter, nestled safely in your belly, can hear him more clearly that way. There’s a lightness in his voice, full of the kind of joy that comes naturally when he’s talking to your unborn child—like he’s already practicing the loving banter he’ll share with her once she’s here.

You shake your head, a soft laugh escaping your lips as you move back to the stove, carefully flipping the strips of bacon sizzling in the pan. The kitchen is cozy, the rich, savory smell of breakfast filling the air, mingling with the faint scent of coffee brewing on the counter. Sunlight streams in through the windows, casting a golden glow across the countertops, and the whole scene feels peaceful, wrapped in the simple comfort of a Saturday morning.

Quinn trails behind you, keeping close, the ever-present grin still on his face. His eyes are filled with that familiar playful glint, the one that tells you he’s not taking any of this too seriously—but at the same time, you know just how much these moments mean to him. He takes every chance he can get to bond with your little one, to talk to her, even if it’s just silly things or affectionate words whispered against your belly. It’s something you’ve grown to love even more about him during this pregnancy—how committed he is to being present, even before she’s here.

You shuffle across the kitchen to grab a plate for the bacon, and as you do, Quinn follows closely behind, adjusting the Bellybuds’ cord as you move. You shoot him another glance, one eyebrow raised, even as a smile pulls at the corner of your lips. "Shouldn’t you be getting ready for morning skate?" you ask, your tone teasing as you gesture vaguely toward the clock on the wall.

Quinn shrugs, leaning casually against the counter, his hand resting on your bump for just a moment before he drops it back to his side. "Nah," he says with a playful smirk, "I’ve got a few minutes. Besides, what’s more important—hockey or talking to my daughter?" His eyes sparkle with mischief as he shifts his focus back to your belly, speaking directly into the microphone. "See, sweet girl? Daddy has his priorities straight. Morning skate can wait."

You let out another huff of amusement, shaking your head as you plate the crispy bacon. "Priorities, huh?" You glance at him, a soft smile dancing on your lips. "I’ll remember that the next time you’re in the playoffs."

He laughs, the sound rich and easy, and steps closer, his arms wrapping loosely around your waist from behind, careful not to disrupt your cooking. You feel the warmth of his chest press against your back, the familiar weight of his body comforting as he leans his chin gently on your shoulder, peeking around to watch you cook. His hand slides down, resting protectively over your bump, his fingers splayed across your belly as if he’s trying to feel every little movement she might make.

"I promise," he murmurs, his voice softer now, his lips brushing your ear, "she’ll always come first. Even during playoffs."

The sincerity in his voice makes your heart flutter, and for a moment, you pause in your task, turning your head just enough to catch his gaze. There’s a softness in his eyes, that quiet kind of love that’s always been there, but seems to have grown even deeper during this pregnancy. You lean back into him slightly, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath against your back, and for a brief moment, everything feels perfectly still.

"I know," you murmur, your hand resting on top of his as it cradles your belly.

The moment stretches on for a beat longer, before Quinn presses a soft kiss to your temple, then pulls back with a playful grin. "But seriously," he adds, "we can’t have her growing up thinking she's not the light of my life."

You laugh, the sound bright and easy as you turn back to the stove, flipping the eggs that are now starting to sizzle in the pan. "No, we definitely can’t have that." You agree, amused.

Quinn leans against the counter, still keeping a close eye on you as you move around the kitchen, his eyes occasionally flicking down to your belly. He’s quiet for a moment, just watching, but there’s a soft smile playing on his lips.

"Besides, I think she’s already going to have pretty high expectations for you," you say, glancing at him with a smile as you finish cooking, setting the eggs and bacon on the table. "Talking to her every day, following me around like a puppy..."

He shrugs again, not even trying to hide the grin this time. "Hey, I’ve got to make sure she knows she’s got the best dad in the world, right?"

You shake your head, laughing as you move toward him, your arms wrapping loosely around his neck as he pulls you close. "I think she’s going to know that no matter what," you say softly, your eyes meeting his, your fingers gently playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

He leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, the kind that’s full of love and gratitude, the kind that says more than words ever could. "I love you," he murmurs against your lips, his voice soft but full of warmth.

"I love you too," you whisper back, your hand resting over his heart, feeling the steady beat beneath your palm. You glance down at your belly, where the Bellybuds are still securely attached, and grab his phone from his hand, bringing the microphone to your lips. "And I know you love daddy too, right sweet girl?"

3

"Hey there, sweet girl, Daddy here," Quinn whispers softly into the microphone, his voice a murmur in the stillness of the night. The house around you is silent, save for the faint rustling of the trees outside the window and the gentle sound of your breathing as you sleep peacefully beside him. The soft glow from the bedside lamp casts a warm, golden light over the room, wrapping the two of you in a cocoon of comfort.

Carefully, Quinn adjusts the Bellybuds, making sure the small adhesive speakers are securely attached to your growing belly, his fingers brushing lightly against your skin as he does. Once satisfied that everything is in place, he leans back against the pillows, settling himself beside you and letting out a quiet, contented sigh.

"You're due to come see me and Mommy very soon," he begins. His free hand moves to rest gently on your belly, the warmth of his palm spreading across your skin as his thumb traces slow, soothing circles over the curve of your bump. "And we're so excited to finally meet you."

The smile on his face widens as he speaks the words aloud, the reality of it sinking in more and more with every passing day. His heart swells with emotion, a mixture of excitement and nerves at the thought of holding his daughter in his arms for the first time. He’s imagined it a thousand times already—what it will feel like, what she’ll look like—and yet, he knows nothing can truly prepare him for the moment when she finally arrives.

"We have your nursery all set up," he continues, his voice full of pride. "Mommy picked out the prettiest colors and decorations. And she bought you so many cute outfits... I know you’ll be just adorable." His words are filled with affection as he thinks about the hours you spent meticulously planning and decorating the nursery. He remembers the way your eyes lit up with excitement every time a new package arrived at the door—tiny clothes, soft blankets, little shoes too small to seem real.

Quinn chuckles softly to himself, his thumb still moving in slow circles over your belly. "I can already picture you wearing those little onesies. Mommy’s got good taste," he says with a grin, though his voice softens as he adds, "You’re going to be the most beautiful girl in the world, and I can’t wait to see you."

The room falls into a comfortable silence for a moment, the weight of his words hanging in the air. His gaze drifts back to you, watching as you shift slightly in your sleep, snuggling deeper into the blankets. He loves these quiet moments with you, when the world feels small and the love he has for you and your growing family feels like the only thing that matters.

"You're our first, sweet girl," he murmurs, his voice dropping even lower, as if he's sharing a secret meant just for her. His thumb continues its rhythmic motion on your belly, grounding him in the moment, the connection between the three of you palpable. "So Mommy and I... we might not be perfect. We’ll probably make mistakes, and we’re still learning. But I promise you, we’ll always try our best for you."

The sincerity in his words hangs in the air, a promise that he knows will shape the rest of his life. Fatherhood is something he’s thought about for so long, and now that it’s just around the corner, the weight of it feels both exhilarating and humbling. He knows there will be challenges, sleepless nights, moments of doubt—but he also knows that the love he feels for you and your daughter will guide him through it all. It already has.

"Daddy loves you," he whispers softly into the microphone, his voice filled with all the love and devotion he can possibly give. "So much. And I can’t wait to show you just how much when you get here." He leans down then, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your belly, his lips warm against your skin.

+1

Scarlett Eloise Hughes was born on July 2nd, arriving into the world at seven pounds, four ounces, with the tiniest tuft of brown hair and the clearest green eyes you’d ever seen. From the moment you heard her first cry, a quiet, delicate sound that filled the room, your heart swelled with a love so overwhelming, it felt like nothing else existed beyond that moment. Time seemed to slow as the nurses moved around you, murmuring their congratulations as they swiftly began their work.

The delivery couldn’t have gone smoother. It was as if Scarlett herself had been eager to meet you and Quinn, arriving just two hours after you checked into the hospital. Your contractions had come on strong that morning, starting as a dull ache and quickly intensifying until you knew it was time.

But even considering the relative ease of it all, you were exhausted—utterly spent in the best possible way. The rush of adrenaline from labor, the flood of emotions that came with bringing new life into the world, had left you physically and emotionally drained, but also more fulfilled than ever before.

You watched through hazy eyes as Quinn, who had been by your side every second, stepped forward to cut Scarlett’s umbilical cord. The nurse handed him the scissors, and though his hand trembled slightly, his face was full of awe. You could see the tears glistening in his eyes as he gently snipped the cord, his jaw clenching as he tried to keep his emotions in check. It was such a simple act, but in that moment, it felt monumental—like a bridge between pregnancy and the start of your new lives as parents.

Once the nurses had gently taken Scarlett away to clean her off, weigh her, and perform the routine newborn checks, the room felt quiet, almost surreal. You lay back against the pillows, your body heavy with fatigue but your heart full of love. Every so often, you could hear the soft sound of Scarlett’s tiny cries as they swaddled her in a warm blanket and placed her in the bassinet.

Then, at last, they brought her over to you.

The moment they placed her in your arms, everything else melted away. Scarlett was so small, so delicate, her skin still slightly flushed from the effort of being born. Her tiny fingers curled reflexively into a fist, her eyes blinking up at you as though she were trying to focus on the face she had yet to fully see but already knew so well. The warmth of her little body pressed against yours made your chest tighten with emotion, and as you gazed down at her, you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

"Hi, Scarlett," you whispered softly, your voice thick with emotion as you leaned your forehead against hers for just a moment, taking in her scent, that unmistakable newborn smell that was somehow both sweet and comforting. "We’ve been waiting for you."

Scarlett blinked again, her tiny lips parting slightly as she made a soft cooing sound, and in that moment, it was as though your entire world had shifted. Every hope, every dream, every little piece of your life had led to this—this beautiful, perfect baby girl in your arms.

You shifted her gently, positioning her so you could nurse her for the first time. Her tiny mouth latched onto your breast instinctively, and the sensation was both strange and wonderful all at once.

It was breathtaking moment, just you and her, connected in a way that felt profound to you. You could feel her little body relax against yours as she fed, her breathing evening out, her tiny fingers resting against your chest.

Tears filled your eyes again, and you glanced over at Quinn, who stood watching silently. His eyes held a mix of emotions—joy, admiration, and a deep, unwavering love. He hadn’t stopped smiling since the moment she was born, but now, watching you nurse Scarlett, that smile softened into something more tender, more meaningful.

Once Scarlett finished feeding, you gently lifted her and cradled her close to your chest, marveling at how perfectly she fit into your arms, like she was meant to be there all along. After a few moments, you met Quinn’s gaze and smiled softly.

"You're up next, daddy." you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Quinn nodded, his throat visibly working as he tried to suppress the wave of emotion threatening to overcome him, though you could see the eagerness in his eyes.

"Take off your shirt," you added, remembering the advice about skin-to-skin contact. You wanted him to experience that bond, the warmth of her small body against his, just as you had.

Without hesitation, Quinn pulled off his shirt, tossing it onto the nearby chair. He stepped closer, his movements careful and measured, as though he were afraid of disturbing the fragile moment. Gently, you passed Scarlett into his arms, watching as he settled into the chair beside your hospital bed.

The second Scarlett was in his arms, her little body resting against his bare chest, something changed in Quinn. His entire posture softened, his shoulders relaxing as if every ounce of tension had melted away. He held her with the utmost care, his large hands supporting her tiny head, his thumb brushing gently across her back as she nestled against him.

"Hey there, sweet girl," Quinn whispered, his voice cracking slightly as he gazed down at her in awe. "Daddy here."

Scarlett’s small hand flexed against his chest, and Quinn let out a shaky breath, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. He leaned his head down slightly, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head, his lips lingering there as though he couldn’t bear to pull away.

The sight of them together—the love radiating from Quinn, the peaceful way Scarlett settled into his arms—filled you with an overwhelming sense of gratitude and happiness. This was your family now. The three of you, together, bound by the deepest kind of love.

Quinn rocked gently in the chair, his eyes never leaving Scarlett’s face, as though he were committing every detail of this moment to memory. "You’re so beautiful," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "I love you so much. You have no idea."

Tears slipped down your cheeks as you watched them, your heart full to bursting. This was everything you had hoped for and more—a moment of pure, unfiltered love. "She’s perfect," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

Quinn glanced up at you, his eyes shining with tears of his own. "Yeah, she really is."

[hoe4hotchner]

Not worth the tears | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gn!Reader | WC: 1.6k  | CW: Angst, no use of Y/N, mention of cheating, reader was dating a man, crying.| Summary: reader got cheated on - Hotch is there to pick up the pieces

The weight of your phone felt heavier than it should have in your hand as you stared at the screen. The text was still there, glaring at you, a brief, emotionless exchange that had just ended your relationship. You couldn't feel much, not at first. There was shock, a numbness that spread through your body like ice. Your partner had cheated— of all things he had cheated. And it wasn’t even a messy confession or an argument where the truth slipped out. It had been revealed so casually like it didn’t matter.

Your thumbs had moved faster than your brain, sending a few bitter replies before cutting off contact completely. Now, you sat alone at your desk, a dull ache blooming in your chest, your breath shallow. He had taken all the air out of your lungs and drained every bit of hope you had put into him. The thought circled through your mind—I tried. I tried for him. I gave everything, but it wasn’t enough.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, trembling slightly. The words blurred on the screen, and you blinked back the tears clouding your vision. That was it. It was over. You stared at the empty chat thread—his response was short, dismissive, almost as if what had happened didn’t matter. As if you didn’t matter.

You rubbed your hands over your face, trying to swallow the knot in your throat. You were supposed to be working—on a case, of all things—but the walls of the BAU felt tighter than ever. The world outside of this room, outside of the text that had wrecked your day, seemed far away.

As you leaned back in your chair, your thoughts spun—how long had it been going on? Did the moments you’d spent together mean anything at all? The memories felt tainted now, like ink smeared across a once beautiful piece of art. You'd done everything right. You tried to make it work. But it was over. And it was time to face that truth, even though it burned.

It felt like a punch to the gut, that revelation. He had betrayed you in the worst way possible, and all you got in return was a half-hearted apology and an empty text saying it wasn’t a big deal. You should’ve seen it coming, right? But you’d held on, hoping that things could change, that he could change, despite the cracks that had started to show months ago.

The pain was suffocating. You stood up from your desk, pacing the room, trying to shake off the weight pressing down on your chest. But it wasn’t going away. It was just getting worse. You'd loved him, believed in him, and he tossed you aside like you were nothing. He'd broken you in ways you never thought possible, and now you had to pick up the pieces.

Again.

Your thoughts spiraled as you stared out of the window, lost in a haze of disbelief and hurt. You wanted to scream, to throw something, anything, to just feel something other than this emptiness inside. The room felt too small, too confining, and your heart ached like it was splitting in two. Maybe it was. Maybe that’s what happens when you give someone everything, and they rip it all apart.

The glass door into the BAU creaked open, and Hotch’s presence filled the room before you could even look up. He stepped inside, his brow furrowed, as usual, a file in hand. His eyes scanned over you, a practiced intensity in them, as though he was ready to talk about whatever work issue had brought him here. But then, he stopped.

“Are you okay?” Hotch asked, his voice soft but carrying that steady authority. It wasn’t a question he asked often, and when he did, it was because he already knew the answer. He had this way of reading people—of reading you—like any of the case files that came across his desk.

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, brushing a hand through your hair as you shook your head. You forced a weak smile, but your throat tightened, betraying the façade. “It’s nothing, Hotch. Just… work stress.” You waved a hand dismissively. But the lie tasted bitter on your tongue. The raw emotion in your voice gave you away, and you knew Hotch could see it. He always could.

He stood there, watching you closely, then set the file down on your desk without a word. It was the first time you'd seen him hesitate. “Something’s wrong. Talk to me.”

You wanted to hide it, to shove the pain down and pretend like you hadn’t just lost someone who wasn’t even worth the heartbreak. But this was Hotch—someone you trusted more than anyone. Your lips parted, and the words came tumbling out before you could stop them.

You felt your walls crumbling, the mask you’d tried to wear falling away as the weight of everything hit you all at once. Your chest tightened, and you tried to hold it in, but the pain surged forward, unstoppable.

“I broke up with him,” you said, your voice trembling. “He… he cheated on me.”

Hotch’s entire body went still. His expression, once concerned, darkened with something else entirely. His jaw clenched, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. It was as though he was holding back from storming out and finding the man who had hurt you. “He what?”

You nodded, the tears you’d been holding back finally spilling over. “I tried, Hotch. I really tried. I wanted it to work, but… it’s over. He didn’t even care.”

The room was heavy with the weight of your admission. You had never seen Hotch angry like this—at least, not for something personal. His dark eyes were clouded, and the controlled, calm leader of the BAU was nowhere to be found. But then, just as quickly as it had come, the anger softened, replaced by something much gentler, much deeper. He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to brush the tears from your cheeks, his touch soft, careful, as if you might break at any moment.

“Did he tell you? Or did you find out another way?”

The look in his eyes was enough to make you swallow thickly. It was protective, fierce, as though he was barely keeping himself together. You hadn’t known it then, but Hotch loved you. And the idea of someone hurting you, betraying you, was enough to make him want to hunt down the bastard who had done it.

“He told me,” you muttered, looking down at your lap. “Like it was nothing. Like I didn’t matter.”

Hotch inhaled sharply through his nose, his hands flexing. For a moment, you could tell he was fighting the urge to walk out and do something rash, something you knew he would regret.

“I'm sorry,” he said quietly, and there was something deeper in his voice, something that made your heart skip a beat. “You didn’t deserve that,” he said quietly, his voice laced with something you couldn’t quite place. “He didn’t deserve you.”

You sniffed, wiping at your face as you tried to pull yourself together. “I just… I don’t know what I did wrong.”

Hotch shook his head. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” his voice was firm. He moved to sit beside you, his presence somehow grounding in all the chaos that had filled your head. “This is on him. Not you.”

The conviction in his voice made your breath hitch. You stared at him, taking in the intensity of his gaze, the way he looked at you as if you were the most important thing in the world. Your heart twisted painfully. You had never seen him like this before.

“He wasn’t worth your time,” Hotch continued, his tone softening even more. “You deserve someone who will fight for you, someone who will never hurt you like that.”

You could feel yourself breaking down again, the tears coming back, and you didn’t fight them this time. You didn’t have the strength to. Instead, you let yourself fall, collapsing into Hotch’s arms as he caught you without hesitation. He pulled you close, holding you tightly against his chest, his hand stroking your back in soothing circles.

For the first time all day, you felt safe. The ache in your heart hadn’t gone away, but being here, with Hotch, made it bearable. He didn’t say anything more, just held you, and somehow, that was enough.

For a few moments, neither of you said anything. You couldn’t bring yourself to speak, and he seemed to understand that you needed the silence.

“I wanted it to work,” you whispered between sobs. “I really wanted it to work.”

“I know,” he said softly, his hand soothing as he rubbed slow circles on your back. “You deserve so much more than what he gave you.”

As he held you, a thought crossed your mind—Hotch had always been there. He had always cared, always looked out for you. And as he held you now, his heartbeat steady beneath your cheek, you wondered if maybe he had cared more than you’d realized.

You lifted your head slightly, meeting his gaze. There was something in his eyes, something soft and warm, but it wasn’t pity. It was deeper than that. It was understanding. It was… love.

You blinked, trying to process the moment, but the sadness and exhaustion weighed you down too much to explore it further. Instead, you leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. Hotch didn’t hesitate.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, though you weren’t sure why.

Hotch shook his head, his expression tender. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, and for a moment, the world didn’t feel so broken. In his arms, you could breathe again, and maybe—just maybe—your heart wasn’t beyond repair after all.

Because even though everything had fallen apart, Hotch was there to help you pick up the pieces. And this time, you weren’t alone.

[live-love-be-unique]

Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight

Summary: Bob draws your name for Secret Santa.

This is my submission for @lewmagoo Holiday Celebration. The prompt was “You're each other's secret santa”

And thank you to @translatemunson for helping with the banner

Parings: Bob x f reader

Warnings: none

It was all Rooster’s fault Bob decided as the familiar strains of “Santa Baby” filled the room. He’d suggested christening his new apartment with a Dagger squad potluck Secret Santa party.

Everyone piled into the living room, after stuffing themselves on the ridiculous amount of food they had all brought, ready to unwrap their gifts. This was a bad idea Bob realised, watching you smiling as the rest of the party exchanged their Secret Santa gifts. He cursed himself for getting you a gift so personal. He’d stressed about the perfect gift for the weeks before the party, finally he asked Rooster’s girlfriend, she’d become your friend when she started dating his fellow pilot, he figured she’d know what to get you, she’d suggest he get you something sweet or maybe “just tell her how you feel” she’d said.

After another couple of days stressing, he’d found himself surrounded by excited children and their exhausted parents in a Build-A-Bear at the mall. He chose a little bear with golden fur that the employee commented matched his hair colour perfectly and he even found a little aviator outfit to dress it in, sure it didn’t match his uniform but he thought you would find the little leather jacket and hat and goggles cute.

He looked away from his gift, which was still under the tree when you laughed as Rooster opened his gift, a bottle of whiskey wrapped in a pair of novelty boxer shorts with an obnoxious cartoon rooster and the word “cocky” printed on the front, courtesy of Hangman.

“Looks like we’re down to the last two gifts!” Javy announced. You stood and made your way over to the tree, picking up a beautifully wrapped box before turning to him.

“I guess that means we’re each other’s Secret Santa” you smiled brightly at him, holding the gift towards him “Merry Christmas Bob”

“Merry Christmas yourself” he smiled nervously as his fingers brushed against yours as he handed you your gift.

“Open it! Open it!” Hangman chanted loudly.

Bob glanced down at the beautifully wrapped gift in his lap, you smile brightly as you sat next to him on the couch. He slipped the navy blue ribbon off, his favourite colour, and lifted the lid to reveal a vintage record, one that he had spent months trying to find “where did you find this?!” he asked, turning the record over in his hands, reading the tracklist on the back.

“My uncle owns a record store and you mentioned you were trying to get your hands on it” you shrug, hiding a smile as you sip your wine.

His hands touch something soft and wrapped in tissue paper as he reads over the tracklist, noting his favourite songs. He glanced down to find there was another parcel in the box.

He unwrapped the small parcel to find a soft navy blue scarf “I thought it might be useful when you headed home” You pointed out one of the ends of the scarf as Bob’s fingers traced over his callsign and a little plane that you had embroidered on the edge. He could smell your perfume as you leaned closer to point out the little missed stitches and crooked bits of your handiwork “It’s not much I know” you started.

“No, I love it” he smiled up at you before realising how close you were sitting, if he leaned forward just a little he could kiss you…

The rest of the party started cheering you on to open your present “Ok, ok, I’ll open it” you laughed, reaching for the box in front of you. Bob stared at his hands as you opened the box. He bit the inside of his cheek as he waited for your laughter or your disappointment at the gift he had chosen.

“Oh he’s adorable!” He didn’t expect that. He looked up to find you holding the little bear, admiring its little scarf and leather jacket.

“A bear? You got her a….ow! What was that for?!” Bob silently thanked Phoenix as she leveled a slap to the back of Hangman’s head. Laughter broke out as Jake sat back rubbing his head and nursing his drink.

You sat next to Bob for the rest of the party holding the little bear you’d named “Bobby” in your arms as the rest of the squad argued over which Christmas film to watch first “he’s missing something” you noted as Coyote and Fanboy shot each other with the nerf guns they had gifted in their Secret Santa exchange “he doesn’t have your glasses”

“They did have glasses at the store and I almost brought them, but I thought it might make it too obvious it was from me” he chuckled at the thought of the little bear sporting a pair of his glasses.

“Well I think he needs them”

“You think so?”

“Of course”

“Maybe we could go and get them together and maybe…get lunch after?” Bob trailed off as he noticed you staring at him.

“Are you asking me out?” You smiled.

“Yeah, I think I am, if you’d want to that is” he asked nervously.

“I was hoping you’d ask me”

“You were?” You nodded and smiled up at him as you slid closer, laying your head on his shoulder.

As he wrapped the blanket from the couch over the two of you Bob saw the matching smirks of Nat and Rooster’s girlfriend as you cuddled into his arms. It was Rooster’s fault Bob decided, but as he linked his hand with yours he decided he’d buy him a thank you drink at the Top Deck next visit.

[littleslaywrites]

i saw mommy kissing santa claus | aaron hotchner x reader

summary: you set up the house on christmas eve with aaron after jack has gone to bed

word count: 0.8k

cw: fluff, implication that santa isn’t real

The radio was quietly playing Christmas songs, low enough to not wake Jack, but turned up so you didn’t drift off to sleep. It was Christmas Eve, and Aaron and you were staying up to get the place ready for tomorrow morning.

You’d moved in during January, the lease on your old apartment ending with the new year. Even though you had been dating Aaron for a few years, you were hesitant to take the step into his home. However, Jack had asked you one day if you’d ever have a “forever sleepover”, and it was enough to convince Aaron to ask you to move in.

The two of you had celebrated Christmases in the past, but you’d always shown up in the morning. Aaron had prepared alone in the past, but now you were there to make the house suitable for tomorrow morning.

“I’ll get the gifts from the closet,” Aaron says, disappearing into your room. You transfer the ham for tomorrow’s dinner into the fridge to let it thaw as he places the gifts from “Santa” under the tree. You join him, arranging the presents into an organized pile. 

Aaron and you had spent hours shopping, trying to find the perfect gifts for Jack. It was difficult, as it required finding time where the two of you were free and someone could watch Jack. You ended up exchanging with JJ, watching Henry as she shopped, and her watching Jack as you shopped. The two kids loved this arrangement, convinced you were doing boring adult errands while away.

The number one gift on Jack’s wishlist had been Star Wars lego sets. Aaron was happy to get them, knowing the two of them would make them together. 

Placing the final presents under the tree, you glance at Aaron, on his knees below the pine. There’s a feeling brought by the quiet of the night, the soft glow of the Christmas tree lights, the quiet hum of the radio, that makes everything feel a little more magical. 

“I can’t wait for Jack to open these tomorrow morning,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. “I might be more excited for Christmas than he is.”

Aaron laughs at this. He’s seen over the past few months how much you love Christmas. Of course, he’d seen your own apartment decorated in past years, but now that you’d moved in, he fully understood your passion for the holiday. You’d added a festive touch that Aaron never had time for, taking Jack shopping for lights and decorations. He’d appreciated it, smiling every time he came back from a case to the decor. 

You glance over at the tree. "I hope Jack will appreciate the effort we put in, even if he thinks it’s Santa’s work."

Aaron smiles, his gaze softening as he looks at you. "He already knows. He sees how much you care about making this special for him."

You feel your heart swell with love, forgetting about all the stress the holiday season brings for a moment. Moments like this were what Christmas was about, the love and happiness your household brought you. 

Aaron takes your hand, the two of you standing. You walk over to the plate of cookies that Jack had left out for Santa. “Shall we?” Aaron asks, handing you one.

“We shall,” you say, dipping the cookie in the milk beside the plate. You thank whoever first came up with the idea of making cookies for Santa, the two of you taking a singular bite out of each one.

You turn off the radio as Aaron goes to the closet, pulling out a pair of his boots. He brings them over to the sink in the kitchen, spraying some water on the bottom. You pour some flour on a plate, and press the boots down into it. Aaron goes over to the fireplace, placing the boots down to create the illusion of snow prints from Santa leading to the tree. 

“Do you think he’ll be convinced?” he says when he’s satisfied with the tracks.

“I’m sure he will,” you say, walking over to him after you’ve rinsed off the plate and put it in the dishwasher. “You’re the handsomest Santa I’ve ever seen.” 

He laughs at your flirtation, placing a hand on the small of your back. "If anyone’s kissing Santa Claus, I think it might be you."

You giggle, and he pulls you close into a deep kiss. When you pull away, you look into his eyes, mesmerized by the way they twinkle as he looks at you. You savor the warmth of the season as his arms are wrapped around you. 

Tomorrow would be chaotic, Jack’s energy increased due to the excitement of the day. So you made sure to savor Aaron’s quiet affection, meditating in the quiet that was only broken up by the crackling fire. 

“I’m glad you were here to help me this year,” he says. You hum, still worried about your conversation waking Jack up. You don’t need words for Aaron to feel the love you bring into his home. 

“Let’s get to bed,” you whisper. He obliges, turning off the lights, smiling as he gives your handiwork one last look.

author's note: happy christmas eve! i've had a lot of fun writing the xmas event so everyone send me cm requests pls and thanks. also I will say I'm not feeling too festive bc I have been thinking of transferring for a while and now that I'm home I'm highkey considering it. this is bc I spent app season during my senior year thinking I was gonna do theater and then changed my mind and canceled all my callbacks in January after all the rest of the app windows closed and I got stuck with the three options that allowed me to switch app majors in march and now im at a school that doesn't really match my focus on academics but whatever. anyway if you have cm fic ideas TELL ME I will write it

[thesewordsareallihavetogive]

I'll be home for Christmas - Bob Floyd x reader

Summary: 1.4k words. Your husband has been deployed for 5 months. The holiday season is in full swing and you’re missing him. This is my entry for @lewmagoo's holiday celebration!

Warnings: language? Pining, angst, fluff & some more fluff

a/n: I wrote most of this in one sitting LAST MONTH. aaaaand then finals season descended upon me like a hoard of rabid locusts. so y'all get this holiday fic now, where it's technically still Christmas in some time zones!

One hundred sixty-seven days.

It’s been 167 days since you last saw your husband.

Rather appropriately, the U.S. military wanted to ensure its service members and their families could celebrate Independence Day. 

July 4th at the Floyd household was truly a sight to behold. Penny brought half a dozen pies, Bradley’s family brought Carole’s famous potato casserole, and the rest of the squad brought beer. Lots and lots of beer. Phoenix, however, had more taste than the rest of the boys–as you had repeatedly told them over the years–and brought over your favorite drink to share. Natasha helped you and Bob decorate your humble bungalow early that morning and helped you with food prep throughout the day in anticipation of the 4th of July cookout.

On the surface level, the party you hosted was simply to celebrate the national holiday. It was arguably also a send-off party, given that half the aviators illuminated by fairy lights in your backyard would be shipped off to an undisclosed location less than 24 hours from that moment.

167 days is equivalent to 4,008 hours or 240,480 minutes, according to your recent Google history.

December 19th welcomed you with a cold embrace and increasingly painful longing. In defense of December and the holidays and all the commercialism you found yourself falling willing victim to, you kind of did this to yourself. At no point were you required to watch three and a half hours straight of shitty Hallmark movies over peppermint bark and eggnog. But you did, as was your right and freedom as an American citizen, you mused to yourself against the lip of the lukewarm mug.

Uncle Sam was not your best friend as of late.

Being away from your husband for five and a half months didn’t make for the most pleased military spouse.

You normally counted your blessings when you could. At least during this deployment, you were able to have semi-regular and reliable contact with Bob. Unlike some of his other deployments, the worst being the 10-week stints with no contact or details whatsoever. But now, as you watched the female lead–who looked like every other holiday Hallmark leading lady you’d seen today and yesterday and the day before and the day before that and–who left her impressive job in the city kiss her generically handsome high school sweetheart in front of their small town’s Christmas tree farm, you were not counting 4,008 consecutive hours away from your husband as a blessing.

Bob’s initial deployment orders ensured he’d be home by the beginning of December. Some classified delays that were above your level of security clearance pushed that date back to December 23rd. When Bob had the misfortune of sharing this news with you, he thought the Facetime connection had frozen from how long your jaw remained dropped.

The daily countdown displayed front and center on the fridge was reminiscent of a prisoner’s tally marks.

The second worst part of long deployments like these was the funk you’d fall into. You were a strong independent woman, dammit. But you were also a woman who was deeply in love with her husband. You aren’t ready to accept it yet, but you’re nearly certain this specific deployment has deepened some wrinkles and brought forth a few strands of grey hair.

“You are beautiful, my love,” Bob would tell you, sweet as ever, anytime your thoughts crept toward self-consciousness.

You were still young and hip enough to go out on a Thursday night, right? The thought quickly left your head as you inspected the old sweatpants you wore and the nearest clock reading well past 10 p.m.. Bedtime. You didn’t want to get up off the couch and do the dishes or fold the blankets or turn off the TV or do anything, but because you’re a responsible adult, you at least start the Sisyphean tasks.

A shrill ringtone emanated from the living room and you damn near tripped over said blankets while sprinting to pick up the phone before it’s too late. With soapy hands, you swiped to answer–unsuccessfully at first; the dish soap suds were evidently plotting your downfall–and were relieved to hear the signature soft static of the connected call.

“Hi, honey,” Bob greeted gently. He was tired, you could hear it in his voice and you knew you’d be able to read it on his face too.

“Bobby!” A grin brighter than you’d felt in days broke out across your face. There is comfortable silence just for a moment where the two of you enjoy each other’s presence. You know his time for phone calls is limited, so you cherish every moment. Even the quiet ones. You spared a glance at the time, knowing now that it is unequivocally past bedtime. Not that any concept of time mattered right now.

“What time is it where you are?” you ask him, prying for details you don’t have the security clearance for. You both know better, but he still humors you.

“It’s getting a little late…” he says smugly, scratching the back of his neck. It’s a nervous tick, one that you can’t see at the moment. You hum in response. He can rarely tell you any specific details about where he is or what he’s doing. After years of this, you still bug him. He will swear until the day he dies that his greatest pleasure in life is being bugged by you.

You tell him about the shitty Hallmark movies you’ve been watching. You catch him up on the drama with your coworkers. Bob doesn’t want any kind of drama in his life, but he does indulge in some gossip about people that he’s never met. You tell him about the weather, about the shelter pets you’ve almost adopted close to ten times now, but agreed Bob should meet the fluffy friends too before welcoming them to their forever home. He listens as you review the final touches you’ve placed on the Christmas decorations, highlighting the anniversary ornaments hung proudly on the tree and the row of photographs from Christmases past with any and every Santa impersonator the two of you saw out in public. Because it’s totally normal for two adults to have a collection of such selfies.

There’s shuffling on the other end of the line and you’re half-worried you’ve rambled the man to sleep and the phone slipped from his grip. He hadn’t responded in a while–he was content to let you speak, or maybe he was snoozing.

“Bobby?” You say softly, hoping to get his attention, but not wanting to rouse him if he fell asleep. He deserves the rest.

Before he can answer, there’s a knock on the front door. What the fuck? You’d certainly considered ordering a pizza for delivery as dinner part 2, but you hadn’t actually placed the order. Or so you thought?

“Hold on, Bobby. Someone just knocked on the door…” you trail off, hesitantly tip-toeing toward your home’s entrance.

“Huh. That’s weird,” Bob remarks. You peer through the peephole and your heart stops. The phone clatters to the floor–the screen might’ve cracked, but you could not care less–as you wrench the door open, revealing the tall, handsome man you’ve been missing for 240,480 minutes.

“I can’t imagine someone would come to the door at this hour. It’s a little late, don’tcha think?” He says cheekily. You all but launch yourself into his arms. You bury your face into his warm neck and can’t stop the steady stream of tears flowing down your flushed face. Bob squeezes you tight like he’ll never let you go. His glasses are crooked on the bridge of his nose from the force of your body meeting his like a magnet, but he couldn’t see anything through his tears anyway. Eventually, you pull back, gasping for air as your eyes dance wildly across every inch of his body, making sure he’s really there and you aren’t dreaming. The feel of his firm lanky frame dressed in khaki and the way he simply smelled like home confirmed that for the first time in a long time, you felt complete.

“You’re here! You’re home!” you squeal, capturing his lips in a kiss that would have your neighbors clutching their pearls. Bob smiled into the kiss, every second of it rich in love and passion and making up for lost time. “I told you, honey,” Bob begins, punctuating every few words with kisses across your face. “I’ll be home for Christmas.”

a/n: Happy holidays!! Reblogs & comments are much appreciated 🥰

Find more of my writing on my master list.

[lilmisssona]

𐙚 ˚A ' Chris ' Mas Mayhem 𐙚 ˚

𐙚 ˚Pairing - Bang Chan × Fem Reader

𐙚 ˚Plot - YN returns to Seoul after three years, leaving behind her boyfriend for a work project, and finally gets transferred back just before Christmas. Excited to reunite, she decides to move into her boyfriend’s place, only to discover it isn’t his house at all. To make matters worse, she learns her Christmas gifts have been going to the wrong address all along—leading to an unexpected twist.

𐙚 ˚Genre - Angst, Hurt, Healing,Comedy, Fluff

𐙚 ˚Warnings - Hurt, betrayal, breakup, neighbor au, non Idol au, healing, comfort, Strangers to lovers

𐙚 ˚Word count - 8.7 K 𐙚 ˚ Screenshot Count - 2

𐙚 ˚A/N - Ahh! I'm so excited to share the first episode of Staymas! Dive into this fun mix of Christmas gifts, neighborly banter, and the spark of something deeper. This is just Slight proofread. So apologies for any mistakes 🙂‍↕️

𐙚 ˚SKZ Masterlist 𐙚 ˚Staymas Masterlist

It was a quiet winter afternoon in Seoul. The capital city, once blanketed in snow just weeks ago, had now settled into the crisp, dry embrace of December air.

The crunch of the remaining snow under your boots brought you back to the present as you stepped out of the taxi. You were home. After three years of relentless overtime, endless meetings, and the nonstop pace of Tokyo, you were finally back in Seoul. Back to the city you had always called home.

Your overseas transfer to Tokyo had been your first project as a lead. While life in Tokyo matched the speed and intensity of Seoul, you missed your home; and, more than anything, you missed your boyfriend, Chris Han.

You had just started dating Chris four years ago after a chance meeting at a club. He had been everything you could hope for: caring, attentive, and loving.

But things took a turn when you mentioned your transfer, barely a year into your relationship. He resisted the idea vehemently, arguing that long-distance relationships never worked. But this was your dream project, and you were determined.

Reluctantly, he agreed, and you left with tears in your eyes, clinging to the hope that distance would strengthen your bond.

At first, it did. Video calls became your lifeline, and you were grateful for his support despite the miles between you. Each Christmas, you went out of your way to send him thoughtful gifts: hand-knit sweaters, heartfelt letters, and cookies you baked yourself. You imagined him opening them, smiling, and feeling less alone.

But as time passed, the calls became less frequent, and the distance began to weigh on you. Yet, your heart remained steadfast, filled with love for Chris. Now that you were back, you couldn't wait to celebrate your first Christmas together in years.

-----------------------------------------------------

Standing in front of the apartment building, you took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing nerves. You had gone to great lengths to make this moment a reality, even renting an apartment in the same building as his, though he had no idea yet. This was meant to be a surprise, something special that would bring you closer in a way he wouldn’t expect.

Unbeknownst to him, you'd taken the opportunity to secure a place in the very same building, arranging everything during a video call with the tenant. You had even wired some advance money to her, securing the apartment without him ever suspecting a thing.

The elevator doors opened on your desired floor, and you stepped out, the faint hum of the building filling the quiet space around you. The tenant, the one you had finalized everything with, was waiting for you to complete the paperwork.

She smiled warmly, gesturing for you to come inside. As you hesitated in the hallway, your eyes darted nervously around, scanning for any familiar faces. You didn’t want to risk your boyfriend finding out about your arrival just yet, so you made sure to move cautiously, stepping inside and out of sight, ready to finalize this surprise and begin a new chapter.

You signed the last documents, handed over the remaining deposit, and took the keys to your new home. The apartment, though sparse, felt cozy and warm, just as it had seemed in the calls. After a quick shower, you put on the sweater Chris had once gifted you, applied light makeup, and prepared for the moment you’d been waiting for.

Clutching a box of homemade chocolate chip cookies, your heart pounded as you approached apartment 504- Chris's place. Smoothing your scarf, you knocked on the door, excitement bubbling inside you.

You pictured the scene perfectly: Chris opening the door, stunned, before pulling you into his arms with a cheesy line like, "I can't believe you're mine forever now." The two of you would share cookies, cuddle, and watch movies like you used to. It was the perfect surprise.

But when the door opened, it wasn’t Chris who greeted you....

“Uh, hi?” The man at the door blinked at you, clearly confused. He was tall, with soft, dark hair that framed his strikingly sharp features. He looked effortlessly attractive, dressed in casual sweatpants and a hoodie, as if he’d just stepped out of a photoshoot.

You froze, your brain scrambling to make sense of the situation.

“Is Chris here?” you asked hesitantly.

The man tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah… Who’s asking?”

“I’m Y/N, his girlfriend,” you replied nervously. “He lives here, right? Apartment 504?”

The man blinked at you, his confusion deepening. “M-My girlfriend? Sorry, but… do I know you?”

Your stomach tightened in a knot as you stared at him. Maybe Chris Han hadn’t told his friends about your relationship. Or maybe this guy was some distant relative visiting. But wait, he said “My girlfriend?” That didn’t make any sense, you thought. Chris Han was your boyfriend, not this stranger standing in front of you with a perplexed look on his face.

The silence between you both was deafening as you locked eyes. You couldn’t help but admire his features again. This guy was effortlessly handsome in a way that felt almost unfair. His eyes glinted with amusement as he studied you just as you did him. His skin, with a warm golden undertone, glowed faintly in the soft light spilling from the apartment. His jawline was sharp and defined, like a sculptor’s dream, and his high cheekbones gave his face an almost regal quality.

The air hung thick, suffocating in its silence. Yet, you couldn’t tear your gaze away from him, just as he couldn’t from you. It felt like something needed to break the tension before you’d be trapped in this awkward loop forever.

“Yo, Chris?” a voice called from inside. “What’s got you so caught up?”

The stranger snapped out of his thoughts and suddenly burst into laughter. Embarrassed by the situation, you stepped back, ready to leave.

“Wait, wait,” he said, holding up a hand to stop you. “You think I’m your boyfriend?” He grinned, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Hate to break it to you, but I’m not. I’m Chris Bang. And unless I’ve somehow gotten into a relationship I didn’t know about, I think you’ve got the wrong guy.”

Your cheeks burned red with embarrassment. “What?! But… this is apartment 504! Doesn’t Chris live here?”

“Yeah,” Chris Bang said, nodding. “That’s me. Chris Bang. Single. Not your boyfriend.”

The realization hit you like a freight train. “Oh my god,” you mumbled, backing away. “I… this is so...this is a mistake. I’m so sorry!”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Chris called after you, laughing as you turned to flee. “Don’t run away yet! I want to know how this happened. Did you just knock on the wrong door, or did your boyfriend ghost you and give you my address instead?”

You whipped back around, glaring at him. “He did not ghost me! I—” You froze in confusion. Wait. If this wasn’t Chris Han’s apartment, then where…?

Chris Bang watched as the realization painfully dawned on you. “Wait… are you the new neighbor who moved into apartment 404?”

“Yeah,” you muttered, your voice filled with regret. “Apparently, across from you.”

“Well, this is going to be fun,” Chris said, clearly enjoying your humiliation. Before you could respond, the elevator dinged down the hall, and a door opened just a floor above yours. Stepping out of apartment 604 was Chris Han—your boyfriend.

A wave of relief washed over your face. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach again as you watched him approach the elevator. “Babe!” you called out, waving, while simultaneously giving your new namesake neighbor an apology. Chris Bang just smiled and waved it off, closing the door behind him.

“Chris, babe!” you called again, louder this time. At the sound of your voice, Chris Han looked down, his eyes widening in surprise as they landed on you.

“Y/N?” Chris Han called out, his voice thick with confusion. His steps were hesitant as he descended the stairs toward you.

“Chris, babe, surprise!” Your smile widened as he stepped closer to you. You opened your arms, eager to embrace him, hoping he’d pull you into his warm, comforting hug. But he didn’t. Instead of the excitement you’d expected, his gaze remained distant—cold, even. “You’re here?” he asked, his voice stiff. “When did you come back?”

“Just this morning! I wanted to surprise you!” you chirped, trying to break the palpable tension. “And guess what? I even rented an apartment here. So we’re neighbors now!” You pointed toward your apartment door with a nervous smile. “Maybe just a floor apart,” you added, awkwardly scratching your head.

“You rented… an apartment? Here?” Chris’s voice was flat, lacking the warmth you had expected.

“Yeah,” you said softly, feeling your heart sink. “I missed you, Chris. Three years is a long time, and I thought… Well, I thought it was time for us to be close again.”

“And this thought occurred to you… after three years?” Chris’s gaze was sharp, colder than you had ever seen it, and it hit you like a physical blow to the chest.

“Well, the project finally wrapped up, and now I’m back...to you. Won’t you welcome me?” Though your voice lacked some of the earlier enthusiasm, there was still hope in your words.

“You know what? Let’s talk inside.” Chris sighed heavily. “It doesn’t feel right to say this in a public space.” Nodding, you followed him upstairs, your chest tightening with each step.

-----------------------------------------------------

You stepped into Chris’s apartment, quickly glancing around. The place was neat, but it felt cold, uninviting. It wasn’t the home you had envisioned for the two of you. It looked more like a temporary crash pad than a place filled with warmth and love. There wasn’t a single Christmas decoration in sight, not even with Christmas Eve just two days away. The only decoration was a solitary string of fairy lights on a corner shelf.

“Oh, you didn’t decorate for Christmas?” you asked, trying to keep the disappointment out of your voice. Chris shrugged. “Haven’t had the time. Last-minute work before the holidays has been crazy.”

“Maybe we can decorate it together?” you suggested, forcing a smile.

Chris let out a long, weary sigh before turning back to you. “Look, Y/N, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this, but it didn’t feel right to say it over the phone. Now that you’re here, I think it’s best we just move on.” He paused. “From us.”

You stared at him, stunned. “So… you’re breaking up with me? Two days before our anniversary? After three years of making it work long distance?” Your voice cracked with rage as you glared at him.

He hesitated again, his voice soft but sharp, like daggers to your heart. “Look, Y/N, I’m really sorry, but I think… maybe we’ve been holding on to something that’s not really there anymore. I’m sorry, but… this… us… it can’t work anymore.”

The ground beneath you shook violently as you absorbed the words spilling from Chris’s mouth. Everything you had planned, everything you had believed, crumbled in an instant. After a long stretch of silence, you exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding back.

Chris stared at you, uncertain, hesitant about what to say next.

"I thought you loved me..." you whispered, your voice trembling, barely audible over the pounding of your heart. Chris stood before you, his gaze fixed on the floor, unable to meet your eyes. The silence between you was suffocating, each second stretching endlessly.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen like this,” he finally said, his voice low and thick with regret. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You stood there, frozen in place, the words echoing in your mind like a cruel mockery. The sting of betrayal tightened in your chest, making it hard to breathe. Your hands clenched at your sides as you fought back the tears threatening to spill.

Finally, a bitter laugh escaped your lips, cold and sharp like shattered glass. “Thank you, Chris. Thank you for ruining everything.” Your voice broke, and your chest ached from the weight of your own words. You took a shaky step back, your vision blurring.

You added, with venom laced in your tone, “Merry fucking Christmas.”

Without waiting for a response, you turned and walked back toward your apartment. As you passed Chris Bang’s door, it suddenly opened, startling you. He looked at you with an expression mixed with concern and curiosity.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice softer this time.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you pushed past him and into your own apartment. The warmth that had once filled the space now felt distant, as if the walls were closing in on you. The contrast between how it had felt just an hour ago and the suffocating coldness now was striking. Closing the door behind you, you sank to the floor, beside the doorframe, tears streaming down your face.

----------------------------------------------------

December 24th

Two days later, it was Christmas Eve. You hadn’t yet moved on from that painful conversation with Chris. Determined to fix things, you decided to meet him later. One awkward conversation wasn’t going to be the end of everything. Maybe you could work through it. Maybe everything would be okay after this.

You hit send on the message, asking him to meet you at 8 in the evening at his favorite restaurant. He agreed, and you smiled at your phone, slipping it back into your pocket.

Since you were meeting him at 8,three hours after your shift ended, you decided to treat yourself to a little coffee at the cozy cafe beside your new apartment. It wasn’t long before you were settled inside, the warmth inside a welcome contrast to the biting winter wind outside. Ordering a cappuccino, you took a seat by the window, sipping your drink as you stared out at the wind-whipped scene.

Not long after, something caught your eye. Across the cafe, a familiar silhouette of a man and a woman sat at a table just a little farther away. You squinted, just to be sure.

And there he was—Chris Han—feeding an unknown woman a piece of cake. The woman, with long brown hair, blushed and laughed at something Chris must have said. They looked so comfortable with each other, so intimate, and Chris smiled at her with the same warmth he used to smile at you three years ago. And then they kissed.

Kissed ?!!

A sharp pang of betrayal struck your gut. Your mouth hung open in shock. Rage boiled inside you, and before you could stop it, your legs carried you over to their table.

"So this is why you decided to move on, huh?" you called, standing at the edge of their table.

"Y/N?!" Chris exclaimed, clearly caught off guard. "What are you doing here?"

"Me?" you scoffed. "Oh, I don’t know, maybe I’m just waiting to meet my boyfriend after his shift to fix things."

"And look what I find! He’s here all along, kissing and feeding cake to another woman, like the past three years meant nothing to you." Your voice dripped with sarcasm.

"Chris, who is this?" The woman looked awkwardly between the two of you.

Chris sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Y/N, now’s not the time."

"Not the time?" you trembled. "So, this is why you said ‘it’s not going to work,’ is it?"

"You were cheating on me all along, and now that I’m back, you’re too scared to admit it. So, you fake this 'it’s not going to work' nonsense!"

"This is the reason I told you long-distance doesn’t work for me, Y/N. But you didn’t listen to me back then!" Chris shot back.

"Our relationship meant nothing to you, did it? I was just a fool, believing our love was still alive!" you spat bitterly.

Chris sighed again, looking at you with something that resembled pity. "I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t want it to happen like this, but… I’ve moved on. " " I told you my answer remains the same"

"Unbelievable!" you blinked back tears, refusing to let him see you cry. "I hope she’s worth it," you said coldly, turning on your heel and storming out of the cafe.

You clung to your jacket as you waited for the elevator, feeling the weight of the evening pressing on you. It was uncomfortably cold in the lobby. Maybe it was because of what had just happened—that the warmth and hope you once carried for a fresh start had been snuffed out, leaving you broken and alone.

Just as you were about to step into the elevator, a voice called out, "Hey, wait for me!" You looked up to see Chris Bang rushing toward the elevator. Quickly, you wedged your hand between the doors to stop them from closing as he hopped in.

"Thank you," he panted, taking deep breaths to steady himself after running. You nodded, acknowledging him silently. You just wanted to be alone, but the elevator seemed to take forever to reach your floor. The tears you’d been holding back threatened to spill as you replayed everything that had happened. Was it your fault? Could you have prevented it? If you hadn’t taken on the new project, if you hadn’t been transferred… maybe this wouldn’t have happened...

These thoughts clouded your mind as the elevator slowly ascended. When it finally reached your floor, you stepped out, your head still in a daze.

"YN, is it?" Chris suddenly asked. You nodded, barely meeting his gaze.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.

You realized you must look like a mess,your mascara smudged, your hair disheveled, your eyes red from holding back tears. You sighed and gave a shaky laugh. "Not really."

Chris tilted his head, his sharp features softening. "Wanna talk about it? I’ve got cookies, and I promise I don’t feed cake to random people in cafes." He smiled, his warmth surprising you.

You blinked, taken aback. How did he know? But he wasn’t teasing you. There was no smug grin or sarcastic quip, just sincerity.

"Cookies?" you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper.

Chris smiled, a soft, lopsided grin that felt genuine. "Yeah, cookies. And hot chocolate. The perfect cure for whatever mess you just walked away from."

----------------------------------------------------

If this had happened on any other day, you would’ve brushed him off and retreated to your apartment to cry in solitude. But something about the warmth in Chris's expression, the absence of judgment, just pure sincerity, made you pause and truly look at him. Maybe it was because it was Christmas Eve, or maybe it was the way his dark oceanic eyes and his sincere smile spread warmth inside you. You sighed, quickly wiping your eyes. "You know what? Sure. Why not."

You motioned for him to lead the way as he opened the door to his apartment. Reluctantly, you stepped inside after he gestured you in. Despite your lingering embarrassment, curiosity got the better of you as you glanced around.

The apartment was cozy, though not overly decorated. It was minimalist at best. A single gray couch sat in the living room, with two plush cushions resting on it. In front of it was a wooden coffee table with what looked like an empty mug of coffee. Yet there was a festive vibe in the room: small fairy lights twinkled around the window and shelves, and a medium-sized Christmas tree stood in the corner, neatly decorated with baubles and stockings. It felt inviting, almost like home.

You awkwardly sank into the gray couch and waited for him, as Chris disappeared behind the kitchen counter for a few moments, telling you to make yourself comfortable.

The scent of vanilla and chocolate soon filled your nostrils, making your stomach rumble. You hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast; the last-minute workload had kept you too busy. Save for a couple of sips of cappuccino at the café, you hadn’t had solid food all day. You hadn’t even realized how hungry you were until Chris placed a plate of cookies and a cup of hot chocolate in front of you. Your mouth watered at the sight.

"There you go, YN," Chris smiled, handing you the cup of hot chocolate he’d made. "Please, help yourself."

"Thank you," you muttered, taking a sip. The sweetness of the hot chocolate melted away the bitterness in your heart, filling you with warmth. “Hmm, it’s so good,” you sighed in satisfaction.

“It sure is,” Chris hummed, settling beside you on the couch.

"So..." Chris leaned back, studying you carefully. "If you’re comfortable sharing... is it boyfriend trouble, or...?"

"More like ex-boyfriend trouble now," you interjected, a bitter laugh escaping your lips.

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t interrupt.

"Actually, we met four years ago. A year later, I had to leave Seoul for a project in Tokyo. I had to lead a new company project."

"He didn’t want to do long distance. It led to a lot of disagreements, but somehow, we agreed to give it a shot. But when I came back two days ago, he didn’t seem too happy about it." You paused. "He told me it wasn’t working anymore..." You looked away, trying to hide the tears that were threatening to fall. "I thought our love could withstand the distance, but I guess I was wrong."

"And today, you saw him with someone else, right?" Chris asked gently.

You whipped your head back toward him, stunned. "H..How’d you know?"

"It’s the only café in the neighborhood. I was there for my daily coffee and happened to witness it," he said, glancing at you with an apologetic look. "I’m sorry if I intruded on your space."

Your cheeks burned in embarrassment, but somehow, you still wanted to keep talking. "Yeah, that’s how I became single on Christmas Eve," you said wistfully, a small smile forming on your lips.

"That’s rough. I’m so sorry," Chris winced.

"Yeah, I was an idiot for holding onto it for three years," you said with a bittersweet smile. "Maybe I shouldn’t have taken the transfer. Maybe things would have been different. Maybe we wouldn’t have broken up..."

"YN," Chris said softly, turning you to face him. "Look at me."

You met his eyes, and he continued, "I know, for what it’s worth, that it’s not your fault. That Chris Han... he can go screw himself for letting go of someone like you."

His words caught you off guard. "Now, aren’t you going a little too far ahead of yourself?" you replied with a half-laugh, half-smile. "You barely know me, Mister. How can you say that?"

"I know for a fact, YN," he said, his voice calm and sincere. "I know how much you loved him, and how unappreciative he was. I know he didn’t care about you." "For what it’s worth, from my two cents as your new neighbor, I believe you deserve so much better. Way more, YN," Chris smiled at you.

"How do you know, for a 'fact'that I loved him?" you asked, half-smiling, half-curious.

"Because of all the love you poured into those gifts you sent..." he smirked.

"Gifts?" you asked, confused.

Chris nervously scratched his head, realizing he may have said more than he intended. You raised an eyebrow, and that’s when it clicked.

"Don’t tell me..." you gasped.

"Promise me you won’t be mad, YN?" Chris smiled sheepishly.

You gave him a stern look as he got up and pulled a cardboard box from the cupboard. Inside were neatly wrapped packages with handmade bows, festive papers, and labels that read: "To Chris, Merry Christmas Love, YN."

You stared at him, stunned. "Chris Bang! Why?" you glared at him. "You promised me you wouldn’t be mad!" he nervously chuckled.

"How can I not be mad when you’re literally stealing my ex’s gifts?" you protested. "For the past three years, you’ve been stealing them, and you didn’t even think to check if they were yours or not!"

He just silently stared at you, nonchalantly, as if this was the most normal thing in the world. His boyish grin didn’t help either. In fact, it made this bizarre turn even harder to comprehend.

"Let me get this straight," you said, holding onto the edge of the couch to steady yourself as you leaned back. "You’re telling me that for the past three years, you’ve been getting the Christmas presents I meant to send to my ex? And instead of, I don’t know, returning them, you just... kept them?"

Chris rubbed the back of his neck, his expression somewhere between amused and sheepish. "I mean, technically, yeah. But in my defense, your handwriting on the shipping label was pretty bad. It just said ‘Chris,’ no last name, and my address."

Your mouth hung open. "Now you’re blaming my handwriting for this?"

"Not entirely," he admitted, his grin widening. "I figured it out eventually, probably by the second gift. But by then... well, I didn’t have the heart to send them back. Plus, they were really thoughtful gifts. And I thought, hey, maybe the universe just wanted me to have them."

You gaped at him, caught between disbelief and reluctant amusement. "The universe wanted you to have my ex’s gifts?"

"Okay, when you put it like that, it sounds pretty creepy," he laughed lightly. "But come on....who wouldn’t keep the presents? It’s Christmas!"

"Unbelievable," you scoffed. "Maybe this is the reason Chris Han broke up with me... He didn’t get my special handmade gifts, thanks to a certain gift thief..."

Chris laughed, clearly enjoying your reaction. "Hey, don’t be too mad. You kind of made my Christmases a lot less lonely. I mean, who wouldn’t love surprise presents from a stranger? It’s like I had a secret admirer."

"I wasn’t your admirer, Chris," you snapped back, your face flushed with embarrassment.

"Well, technically, you were, even if you didn’t intend to," he chuckled. "But seriously, thank you for the gifts every year, YN. The handmade cookies, the blue scarf, the mugs, and that beautiful coat you sent really made me feel at home. I wore them all winter and used the mug every day."

"Don’t tell me you read the letters too..." you groaned, burying your face in your hands.

"I did, YN," he said softly. "And they just gave me a sense of fulfillment, a sense of not being alone... like someone was with me."

"Thank you for making my Christmases unintentionally," he added with a huge grin, his eyes shining. A smile so sincere it made your stomach do flips, and your cheeks turn a shade of red you couldn’t explain. What was happening to you? It was too early to be swooning over a guy you just met. Or maybe it was because his hand brushed against you for a second?

"And even if you think that gifting those things to Chris Han would’ve made things better," Chris continued, looking at you seriously, "I believe you’ve got a lot to learn before dating guys who cheat behind your back."

"Backstabbers will always be the same, YN. Even if you think they’ve changed, they won’t."

At his sincere confession, you looked at him, realizing he was right. Chris Han was an utter POS.

You laughed, genuinely, and even surprised yourself. "Oh, and I suppose you think you set the bar higher?"

He grinned, leaning back and resting his arm on the back of the couch. "I mean, I’ve been told I’m a decent neighbor."

You rolled your eyes. "Yep, a decent neighbor who steals other people’s gifts” you smirk

"Flattery won't save you, you know..." you laughed, your voice light but teasing.

"Wasn't trying to save myself either," he replied, leaning back casually against the couch with a carefree smile. "Just telling the truth."

You busied yourself nibbling on another cookie, pretending to focus on the snack while trying to ignore the warmth spreading across your cheeks. "Okay, Chris," you said, your lips quirking into a small but genuine smile, the playful banter making you feel oddly at ease.

Suddenly, an idea popped into your head, making your smile widen mischievously. "As an apology, why don't you bake me these delicious cookies and hot chocolate every day until New Year's?" you suggested, raising an eyebrow, your voice playful yet sincere.

"Sounds like a deal, YN," he replied with a grin, his eyes twinkling.

"But before that," you added, a hint of mischief in your voice, "how about you close your eyes for just a couple of seconds?" You could see the flicker of curiosity in his expression, and you couldn't help but smile.

Chris raised an eyebrow. "Now, if you're trying to kidnap or murder me, I can, you know..." you said, throwing a couple of playful air punches in the air as you chuckled, enjoying the light-hearted moment.

"Wasn't tryin' to do that, but thanks for telling me anyway," he laughed, shaking his head, clearly entertained by your antics.

Something soft was placed in your hand, and after a brief moment of waiting, you slowly opened your eyes. To your surprise, there was a small gift bag resting in your palm. You raised an eyebrow, your mind racing with confusion and curiosity.

"You're returning the wrong Chris' gifts?" you asked him, half-joking, half-puzzled.

A smirk curled onto his lips as he leaned forward slightly. "More like giving you one," he replied, his voice filled with a touch of mystery.

Just as you were about to respond, the clock in the room struck twelve with a soft chime, followed by the cheerful cuckoo bird popping out and singing its song. The atmosphere felt like it belonged in a holiday movie, warm and comforting.

"Merry Christmas, YN," Chris grinned at you, his smile wide and sincere.

"Merry Christmas, Chris," you replied with a smile that felt more real than anything you'd said in a while. It was a moment that you wanted to hold onto, even if it was fleeting.

"And what's this?" you asked, nodding toward the gift bag, still trying to figure out the meaning behind it.

"This?" He held it up between his hands, looking down at it with a gentle expression. "This one’s for you."

Your brows furrowed in confusion as you took a closer look at the bag. "For me? Why?" you asked, your voice laced with curiosity.

"I figured out two days ago that you're the one who's been sending me the gifts for the past three years..." He paused for a second, his eyes softening, as though the weight of the moment was sinking in.

"Consider it my way of saying thank you—for three years of accidentally making my Christmases a lot less lonely," he said, his tone sincere but tinged with something that made your heart ache slightly.

"Lonely?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, the word lingering in the air. This was the second time he had mentioned his loneliness in the conversation, and it made you wonder about the deeper layers of his feelings.

For just a fraction of a second, his smile faltered, and you noticed his gaze shift as if lost in thought. The change was so brief, but you could tell there was something he wasn’t saying.

"Australia is my real home," he said quietly, his voice distant. "And I'm settled in Seoul now for work. I miss my family, my sister, my brother, and my dog, Berry, so much. Christmas is when I miss them the most, but it is what it is..." His words trailed off, and there was an unspoken weight behind them, something raw that he hadn’t fully expressed.

Your chest tightened unexpectedly. There was something in his tone, something guarded, like he didn't want to reveal too much. You didn’t press, giving him the space he needed, and the silence between you both was comforting, almost as if you both understood what the other was feeling.

Wanting to change the subject and give him a bit of relief, you spoke softly, "Okay, let’s see what you’ve got."

He handed over the bag, and as your fingers brushed briefly against his, you ignored the flicker of warmth that spread up your arm. You focused on the bag in your hands, pulling out the tissue paper with careful movements. When you revealed the contents, your breath caught in your throat: it was a beautiful bag in your favorite color - blush pink. The sight of it made your heart skip a beat.

"Chris, how do you know?" you asked in surprise, your voice a mix of awe and wonder.

He shrugged casually, his grin widening. "I may have done some detective work," he said, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "One of your letters mentioned the bag color," he added with a wink. "Thought it might mean something to you..."

You stared at the bag, your fingers gently brushing over the smooth, polished handle. It was a stunning blush pink crossbody bag, perfectly suited for going out to dinner nights or for the holidays. It was exactly the type of bag you’d been admiring for months, and yet, you’d never mentioned it to him.

Of all the gifts you’d sent in the past three years, none had ever felt this thoughtful or this personal. It was as if he truly understood you in a way you hadn't even realized.

"Wow," you murmured, your voice a little breathless. You looked up at him, your smile widening with genuine appreciation. "That’s... actually really beautiful and sweet."

A wide grin spread across his face as he leaned back a little, clearly pleased with your reaction. "Sweet enough to make up for the whole 'stealing your ex’s gifts’ thing?" he asked, his eyes sparkling with teasing amusement.

You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief. "Not even close," you said, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "But it’s a start."

As the night continued, you felt the weight in your chest slowly lighten. You weren't ready to move on yet, but sitting there, sharing cookies and banter with your neighbor Chris, felt like a step in the right direction. The conversation flowed effortlessly from there, transitioning from light teasing to stories about each other’s lives. Chris had a way of making you laugh, even when you felt like crying. By the time you left his apartment, you realized you were looking forward to seeing him again, something you hadn't expected just a few days ago.

------------------------------------------------------

The Next Day

You giggled at his texts, the warmth of his words making you feel unexpectedly lighter.

-----------------------------------------------------

The days following Christmas blurred into a whirlwind of family gatherings, catching up on work, and the bittersweet calm that often followed the holiday rush. Yet amidst the festive cheer and the soft lull of post-holiday routine, there was a lingering ache—the heartbreak Chris Han had left behind. It was a quiet, constant presence, one that refused to be ignored despite your attempts to distract yourself. Happy couples strolling hand in hand, cheerful holiday music playing in every store, and glowing lights in every window served as unwelcome reminders of what you had lost.

But then there was Chris Bang, your accidental neighbor and self-proclaimed Christmas gift stealer. Against all odds, he became the unintentional solace you hadn’t realized you needed. He had a knack for showing up at just the right time: bumping into you in the hallway with a witty comment about your landlord’s questionable taste in decorations or surprising you with coffee and cookies when your day felt particularly heavy. "Caffeine and cookies cure everything," he’d say with that mischievous grin that never failed to draw a reluctant smile from you.

One day, when you were especially weighed down by the sight of happy couples and the ache in your chest seemed heavier than ever, Chris knocked on your door, insisting you come with him to the fair. At first, you refused, wrapped in your own melancholy, but his persistence wore you down. And so, hours later, you found yourself laughing in the crisp winter air, your hands full of hot cocoa as Chris tried, and failed,repeatedly to win you a plush teddy bear from a claw machine. You teased him mercilessly for his lack of skill, and his mock frustration only made you laugh harder. The ache in your chest lightened, and for the first time in days, you felt like yourself again.

He never left your side, even as work got busier and the New Year dawned. Whether it was a simple message, a casual phone call, or a surprise invitation to take a walk in the park when the sun came out, he made sure to check in, offering little moments of comfort when you needed it most.

With time, you learned more about the man who had unexpectedly found his way into your life. He told you about growing up in Australia, how Seoul had never been part of his plan until his online friends Jisung and Changbin lured him here with the promise of his dream job as a music producer, so he moved across the world. How he had an impressive art collection from his best friend Hyunjin, an artist he was incredibly proud of, and how he’d used the holidays to stay in and unwind from a stressful year. He’d been surprisingly open, sharing details of his life that he usually kept close to his chest.

For your part, you had shared a lot with Chris, your work, your best friends (who were instantly curious about him), and how your parents had been gently pushing you to settle down, despite the fact that you were struggling to imagine your life on anyone else’s timeline. You were beginning to realize how much you enjoyed these quiet, meaningful conversations with him, especially considering how effortlessly everything seemed to flow. Even the things you thought might make you feel vulnerable, you found yourself talking about with surprising ease.

Chris, in turn, had opened up more about his family life. He talked about the playful dynamic he shared with his sister, how they loved to tease each other and how he cherished the annual trips back home to visit. He shared stories about his dog, Berry, whom he missed dearly. There were other little details too, how much he had been adapting to life in Seoul and the adjustment from his home in Australia. Each time he shared something new, you found yourself appreciating him more, and the more you learned about him, the deeper your connection seemed to grow.

You shared your hesitations, your dreams, and the small quirks that made you who you were. It felt natural, easy, even the things that had once felt like guarded secrets seemed safe with him.

And Chris listened, truly listened. He never rushed you or offered hollow reassurances. Instead, he met you where you were, matching your vulnerability with his own. Slowly but surely, the cracks in your heart began to mend, and in their place, something new and unexpected began to grow.

Each shared moment, each quiet laugh, and each tender look made you realize just how much Chris had come to mean to you. The heartbreak that had once defined your days began to fade, replaced by the warmth of his presence...

------------------------------------------------------

As December 2024 arrived, you found yourself surprised at how quickly the year had passed. It was as if time had slipped through your fingers, leaving you wondering how the months had gone by in a blur. Despite a rocky beginning to the year, one thing was clear, Chris Bang had been a steady and reassuring presence in your life, his bad jokes, comforting smile, and unassuming nature making 2024 a lot more bearable than 2023. And now, every time he spoke, you found yourself struck by how his voice, that familiar warmth, could make your heart flutter in a way you hadn’t expected. His smile, his presence,it was beginning to feel like something more than just a friendship, something you weren’t sure how to define yet.

So, when Chris invited you over for his Christmas Eve gathering, you decided to go all in. You wanted to make this night special, just as much for him as for you. You crocheted him a sweater, carefully stitching his initials into the fabric. You baked cookies, filling your kitchen with their delicious scent, and chose a red dress that made you feel both confident and beautiful. As the evening approached, your nerves kicked in, the anticipation of seeing him making your heart race.

When you finally arrived at his door, you knocked lightly, trying to calm the fluttering feeling in your chest. The door opened quickly, and to your surprise, it wasn’t Chris standing there. Instead, it was his friend Han Jisung, whom you’d met briefly a few months ago. His bright smile was instantly familiar, putting you at ease.

"Hey, YN!" Jisung greeted warmly. "Come on in!" he added, stepping aside to let you enter. You walked inside, immediately feeling the cozy Christmas atmosphere. The living room was stunning, with a large tree in the center, its lights twinkling softly against the backdrop of garlands and ornaments. It felt so festive, and for a moment, you forgot about the nerves that had plagued you moments ago.

Chris and his friends were in the middle of a lively conversation when you stepped into the room. But the moment Chris saw you, everything else seemed to fade away. He froze for just a moment, mid-sentence, his eyes wide as they locked onto you. The effect you had on him was immediate, and you couldn’t help but feel a rush of warmth in your chest.

You were standing there in your red gown, your hair styled in soft beachy waves that cascaded down to your shoulders. The sight of him standing there, visibly taken aback, made your cheeks flush with warmth. You couldn't help but smile shyly, and when you caught his gaze, his expression softened, his lips parting as if searching for words.

"Hyung!" someone called out, a playful voice that broke the moment. You turned to see a big, muscular guy, probably Changbin, giving Chris a teasing look. "A fly will enter if you don’t close your mouth."

Chris's face immediately turned a shade of red that matched your dress, and he shot a mock glare at Changbin. The others burst into laughter, but Chris quickly composed himself, a sheepish grin replacing his flustered look. "Welcome, YN," he said, his voice warm and inviting. He gestured for you to sit next to him on the couch, his eyes still lingering on you with a mixture of admiration and affection.

You nodded shyly and walked over to the couch, your heart racing as you sat beside him. But as soon as you did, the teasing began. The others couldn't resist. "Ooooooh!" they shouted in unison, their voices full of playful mischief.

You and Chris both erupted into giggles, trying to stifle your laughter. It was clear that no matter how much you both tried to pretend otherwise, the chemistry between you was undeniable. As the teasing continued, you both found comfort in the easy banter, laughing together until the weight of everything else seemed to disappear.

The night unfolded like a beautiful dream, with the flickering lights of the Christmas tree casting a soft glow over the cozy room. Laughter echoed through the space, mixing with the gentle hum of conversations and the clink of glasses. You were surrounded by the warmth of good friends, but there was something about the way Chris's presence seemed to fill every corner of the room, making everything feel just a little brighter. Of course, his ever-present humor kept the atmosphere light, and his jokes, though admittedly cheesy, had everyone laughing, including you.

"Do you know this man right here is a Christmas gift stealer?" you said, pointing toward Chris with a playful grin, recounting the story of how you met him to the group.

"No way!" Hyunjin exclaimed, his eyes wide with surprise as he absorbed the details of the story.

“We thought you were the new neighbor, and that’s how he met you,” Changbin added with a teasing tone, looking at Chris as if he’d just discovered some hidden truth about him.

“I had better expectations of you, man,” Jisung laughed. “But you’re no different than the rest of us.”

Chris sighed dramatically, playing along with the teasing. “Hey, in my defense,” he said, lifting his hands in mock surrender. “How was I supposed to know that gift wasn’t meant for me? It said ‘Dear Chris, love YN’ with my address on it. I thought the universe had decided to bless me with early Christmas gifts.”

The entire room erupted in laughter, some of the guys doubled over, clutching their stomachs. Chris sat back in his chair, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck, his dimples making an appearance as his signature smile spread across his face.

“You guys act like I planned it,” Chris protested, though his playful tone made it clear he was enjoying the moment. “It’s not my fault the universe decided to shower me with gifts every Christmas.”

“Free gifts?” you raised an eyebrow, not letting him off the hook that easily. “You’re lucky I didn’t press charges for theft, Christopher Bang!”

The room burst into another wave of laughter, the sound so infectious it had you all grinning ear to ear. Chris shook his head, chuckling. “Alright, alright,” he said, holding up his hands in a gesture of defeat. “But those gifts were too nice to ignore. I figured I must have been extra good that year.”

Hyunjin leaned forward, a playful glint in his eyes. “Or maybe someone was really in love with you and you didn’t even know it.”

Chris’s cheeks immediately turned a shade of pink, and he hastily averted his gaze to the floor, mumbling something incoherent. The group caught on to his sudden shyness and burst out with a loud, collective “Ooooooh!”

“Wait a second,” Jisung interjected with a raised eyebrow, now eyeing Chris in mock disbelief. “So you’ve been using scarves, mugs, and all those gifts knowing full well they weren’t even yours?”

Chris’s grin widened mischievously. “Hey, they came with my name on them. Technically, they were mine.”

Changbin leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, looking at Chris as if he were a detective revealing a crucial piece of evidence. “You’re lucky YN didn’t track you down sooner. This could have turned into one of those true crime documentaries where the victim is the ‘mystery gift giver.’”

You shook your head, chuckling softly at the thought. “Trust me, I almost did. But now, I’m starting to think the universe had its reasons.”

For a moment, the laughter died down, and the room grew quieter as your eyes met Chris’s. There was something in his gaze, something softer than the playful teasing that had filled the air just moments before. The noise of the room seemed to fade, and all you could hear was the rhythmic beat of your own heart. His smile remained, but there was a depth to it now, a quiet understanding that seemed to bridge the gap between you. It felt like the world was holding its breath as you shared a moment that was just for the two of you.

As the clock inched closer to midnight, the lively chatter in the room began to fade, replaced by the soft hum of smaller conversations and the gentle melodies of Christmas tunes playing in the background. The festive atmosphere lingered, cozy and comforting, as the glow of the Christmas tree bathed the room in warm, golden light.

You found yourself nestled beside Chris on the couch, a glass of wine cradled in your hand. He seemed relaxed, his attention caught by a show playing softly on the TV. But your focus was elsewhere, on the small, carefully wrapped package resting in your lap.

Gathering your courage, you turned to him and gently nudged his arm. "Here," you said, offering him the gift with a shy smile.

Chris’s eyes sparkled with curiosity as he looked down at the neatly wrapped present in your hands. "For me?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "Or did you forget the right address again?"

You laughed, rolling your eyes at his teasing. “Shut up and open it!”

As the paper fell away, his face lit up with genuine delight. Nestled inside was a periwinkle sweater, his initials lovingly stitched into the fabric, alongside a neatly arranged box of homemade cookies. His grin widened as he looked between the gift and you, his eyes sparkling with warmth.

"You made this?" he asked, his voice soft with wonder.

You nodded, biting your lip nervously. "I did. Took me a while, but... I wanted it to be special."

Chris held up the sweater, admiring the intricate detail, before carefully setting it aside along with the cookies. His gaze returned to you, his smile softer now, almost reverent.

Chris carefully set the sweater and cookies aside, his attention fully on you. He leaned in slightly, his voice lowering, as if the room around you had faded away and there was only the two of you left in this quiet, intimate space. “YNnie,” he whispered, the nickname he had given you rolling off his tongue with such warmth that it sent a shiver down your spine, “I don’t think you realize how much you’ve changed my life this past year.”

You blinked, your heart suddenly racing in your chest, caught off guard by the weight of his words. “Me?”

Chris nodded, his hand moving gently to brush a loose strand of hair from your face, his touch tender and almost reverent. “When I met you, I thought it was just some funny coincidence, a mix-up that led to free gifts and good laughs. But you... you turned out to be so much more than that. You’re thoughtful, kind, ridiculously talented, and you've made this year brighter in ways I can’t even put into words. And I’m not just saying that because you bake the best cookies.”

You let out a soft laugh, a tear threatening to spill as his words wrapped around your heart. “You’re just saying that because I made you a sweater,” you teased, trying to deflect the overwhelming emotion building in your chest.

“No,” he said firmly, his eyes never leaving yours, his voice unwavering. “I’m saying it because it’s true.”

The room felt smaller now, the Christmas lights casting their soft glow around you, wrapping you both in a bubble of warmth and intimacy. It was as if time had slowed down, and all that mattered was this moment, the two of you. His hand found yours, gently resting over it, his touch grounding you.

“You’ve made me laugh when I didn’t feel like laughing,” he continued, his voice rich with sincerity. “You’ve reminded me that life doesn’t have to be perfect to be beautiful. And every time I look at you, I’m reminded that maybe, just maybe, the universe finally got it right.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, tears threatening to spill as you absorbed the weight of his words. “Chris…”

Your cheeks burned as you gazed at him, unable to deny the depth of the feelings that had been quietly building between you over the past year. The way he had supported you, respected your space, and been there when you needed him, all without hesitation. How had you never realized before just how much he had changed your life? Maybe, just maybe, he was the one you had been waiting for all along.

When Chris leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, intimate murmur, you felt it,the certainty that the so-called mix-up, the mistake that had brought you into each other’s lives, was anything but coincidence. It was fate. A quiet, unspoken connection that had led you here, to this very moment.

Your breath hitched as the distance between you disappeared. Without hesitation, you closed your eyes, surrendering to the magnetic pull of his presence. His lips brushed against yours, featherlight at first,hesitant, almost as if asking for permission. When you didn’t pull away, the kiss deepened, unfolding with a slowness that spoke of intention and meaning. It was tender yet passionate, every movement deliberate, as though he wanted to savor every second.

His hand gently cupped your cheek, the pad of his thumb tracing delicate circles against your skin. The warmth of his touch grounded you, even as your heart threatened to soar. You melted into him, losing yourself in the quiet intimacy of the moment. For that brief, perfect moment, the world outside ceased to exist. Nothing else mattered,only him, only this.

When you finally broke apart, both breathless and overwhelmed, Chris rested his forehead gently against yours, his tender smile radiating warmth. “Merry Christmas, YNnie,” he whispered, his voice low and filled with affection, as though the words were meant for you and you alone.

“Merry Christmas, Chris,” you murmured in return, your voice trembling with emotion. Your heart felt impossibly full, and the heat in your cheeks lingered, a reminder of the moment you’d just shared.

As the world around you softened, wrapped in the glow of twinkling Christmas lights and the quiet hum of holiday melodies, you leaned into the comforting presence beside you. In that stillness, a profound realization settled over you. Sometimes, the most precious gifts in life aren’t the ones you meticulously plan or chase after. They’re the ones that catch you off guard...the ones that find you, that feel like fate wrapping itself around you in the most unexpected, beautiful way.

And tonight, that gift had come wrapped in a heart, a dimpled smile, and a name that had become your favorite sound....

𐙚 ˚Tags - @atinyniki @writingforstraykids @yangbbokari @theo4eve   @livelovelaughmiko @silverstarburst @galaxycatdrawz @skzoologist @shua-f4lmings @iknowyouknowminho @krisstheidiot @hyunjinhoexxx @gho-ster @ezlynkisses @elmoslungcancer @b1nn1e-1s-cut3 @seungseung-minmin @cuddlylonelyperson @jeonginsleftcheek @oreoqueen @freekyfangirl

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𐙚 ˚ENDNOTE - Everything Here is a work of fiction and my own imagination. This does not represent the real life characteristics of Stray Kids. Make sure to like, reblog comment, and follow me for new updates!

[nana-luvy]

. 𝐌𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡

warnings: established relationship, fem!reader, suggestive content (i got a lil carried away sry) and dirty jokes (beware.), somewhat foul language

(also luke cosplaying nightwing which i need for my life-)

In which he's starting to understand why Halloween is cool.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

If camp half-blood was a training place dedicated to children of Greek gods, where believing in them was no question anymore, a pagan festival was still welcome once a year, because who doesn’t love Halloween ? Getting away from yourself for a night, partying and stuffing your face with candies and weirdly colored drinks, all dressed up in costume ranging from dinosaur to ballerina… maybe even upsetting a little the parents with a festivity not in their name, whatever they have to say about it.

You loved that atmosphere, the fire burning in the middle of the camp area getting bigger as the night came closer, turning almost purple with everyone’s excitement, the smell of sugar surrounding the place as bowls of candies were put everywhere, the enveloping warmth of the late Fall; it all brought the biggest smile on your face. After all, it was one of your favorite events of the year.

You were sat on your makeshift vanity, since Hecate children didn’t have the same kind of layout as Aphrodite ones, enjoying for now the silence in your cabin as you had left all of your half-siblings leave before you’d started getting ready. Eventually, you’d slipped out of bed, putting on your Starfire costume —the 2004 version, knowing Chiron would certainly give you a dirty look if you went for any other—, and now settled in front of the mirror to do the matching makeup. You didn’t turn to the door when someone knocked from outside.

“Can I come in ?”

“Sure ~” you simply answered with a little laugh.

From the corner of your eyes, you caught the movement of the door, dark figure stepping in, and you finally turned to face them.

“Wow.”

There he stood, awkwardly fixing his gelled curls, Luke Castellan suited up in the matching Nightwing costume you’d chosen for him, and you couldn’t have been more proud of your idea.

“Damn, am I making you that speechless, pumpkin ?” he asked, gaining back his usual confidence instantly as he caught your gaze, raising a cocky eyebrow.

A slight blush probably coated your cheeks under the foundation. “And how would you like that…” you replied, a smile in your voice as you rolled your eyes, adverting your gaze from Luke’s form before your brain started stuttering and going back to your makeup.

A smile was etched on your face as your mind kept replaying the view you just had, his hair gelled and curls tamed, the way the black spandex fit so well, following every dip and ridges along his toned body, and you had to mentally restrict yourself from throwing glances his way or you’d never hear the end of it. But you couldn’t help but pat yourself on the back for the matching costumes idea.

“You still on for drawing the mask, right ?” Luke asked after a few instant, now sitting cross-legged on your bed, mindlessly cradling one of your stuffed animals.

“Oh yeah, don’t worry.” You looked at him through the mirror, seeing him already doing the same. “I just have to finish up my makeup and I’ll do yours…”

So he stayed there for a short while, watching you skillfully draw a sharp wing of black eyeliner over the colored eye makeup, his gaze eventually trailing down your face to stay on your lips, slightly agape from the concentration, pale from not being finished yet, and he just had this urge tugging at the back of his mind…

He’d been in your cabin for about 5 minutes, and you’re surprised it even took him this much time to start nagging you, getting up from the bed and reaching for every and each item next to you, studying it all.

“How much does all of this even cost you? There’s like… a lot.”

“I don’t really know, most of this I got as a gift… Maybe about 200 ? Something like that ?” you replied, trying to get the placement of you fake lashes right.

“What ?!”

You laughed loudly at his reaction, head falling back to look at him as he stood behind your chair. “I just… I got a cousin that really likes me ~” you said with a small smile, shaking a lash band to dry off the glue.

“Damnit, I went for the wrong cousin…” he mumbled, sly grin dancing on his lips as he looked down at you. And whatever he was saying, his eyes were too full of adoration for you to believe anything.

You playfully smacked his arm, sitting back up straight to finish the last touches. “Shut up, nerd…”

Just as you started to put on lipstick, arms sneaking around your waist made butterflies erupt in your stomach, effectively resulting in loss of focus and a stray streak of pink on your skin.

“Luke…” you trailed, aiming to sound intimidating and probably just letting out a chuckle halfway through as he squeezed harder, head resting on top of yours.

“When are you done ?” he practically whines, pouting at your reflection in the mirror as he casually brushes off your attempt at a threat. “They’re all waiting outside already, I’m sure. Can’t we just… wrap it up ?”

You slowly turn your head to look over your shoulder, face twisted in a mock scandalized expression. “Wow. If you really wanna make time cuts, I’m just gonna draw a straight line over your eyes and call it a day.”

The corner of his lips extended in a tight line, before he chose to hide his face in your hair, grumbling a small ‘Whatever, take your time, pumpkin’ against the top of your head, chest pressed to your back as he let you finish up.

You made your lips pop, evening your gloss, before getting Luke’s attention with a soft finger snap next to his ear. “Okay, birdie boy, your time to shine ~”

He didn’t necessarily like the excitement in your voice as you urged him to sit in the chair you sat in mere instants ago, but he obliged, knowing he couldn’t resist you anyway, and wanting to finally get this over with.

If he had to be honest, dressing up for Halloween wasn’t his strongest suit —pun not intended—, and since he was old enough to choose for himself, Luke had always went for whatever was simplest, whatever took barely a couple accessories over his everyday clothes. But since you’d arrived at camp, a few years back, you’d brought this spirit with you he couldn’t deny. And you’d made fun of him for ‘going as himself’ to a costumed event enough times for him to start to consider changing his beliefs. For you. So now that you two had finally started dating, after months and months of unresolved mutual pining, dressing up for Halloween didn’t sound so bad, if it put that smile that got his heart going on your face.

And he also happened to think he looked absolutely ripped in the black fitted suit.

“So… will whatever you’re gonna put on my face be easy to clean up ? Or will I have to come back and get it removed ? Like, tonight, when everyone’s too drunk to pay attention to where I went and-”

You quickly came back to his side as he rambled, his breath hitching through the smug facade when you tilted his head up to look at you, because even after this much time, you just had this effect on him… “Castellan,” you started, and boy did it make a shiver run through his spine, his last name spoken in that firm, bossy voice you sometimes took, “shut up before I forbid you from coming into this cabin tonight.”

Luke didn’t miss the way her lips quirked into a half-smile, and again, that sight just…

“Why do you wear that much makeup ? You don’t usually do.”

The way he stated it made you halt right before the kohl crayon touched his face to map out the mask, blinking in confusion at his question. You could see his eyes scrutinizing your face, his usual smile casually hanging on his lips, and you had no idea if you should be concerned by his comment or awfully upset by it after spending an hour and a half preparing.

“Yo, wow, I heard it, sorry,” he quickly said, taking back his awkward phrasing and mimicking a rewind motion with his fingers that made you chuckle. “I meant by that, it just… I can’t see when I fluster you, does that make sense ? Like, there’s this… skin-tone liquidy shit I don’t know the name of just blocking out your cheeks, can’t even tease you and reap the bright red laurels,” he explained, broad smile stretching on his face as this time he didn’t need to see any blush to guess your state.

“Shut-” You cleared your voice, embarrassed by his antics, knowing damn well it somewhat warmed your heart for a reason you wouldn’t know. “Shut up before I poke your eyes out…” you said, unconvinced as you puffed your cheeks, trying to escape the deep embarrassment

“Ah, the sweet mumbling of your inner demons, can never get enough of those, can I ?”

You chose to stay silent, not giving him material to broaden his smirk any further as you started to trace the outline of the mask in black pencil.

You quickly mapped it out, filling the shape with black face paint, fully focused on the task at hand as you made sure not to go over the edge or leave a single speck of skin visible around the eyes. Meanwhile, Luke didn’t utter a single word, simply looking at you with that face of adoration he carried everywhere you were, loving the focused look you sported, how your brows slightly furrowed and the tip of your tongue just slipped past your lips.

You sighed as you cracked your neck to release tension, the position you were in slightly uncomfortable, before standing right before him and tapping his knee with the tip of your fingers. “Spread your legs, pretty boy.”

“Wh- That’s my line ~” He smirked but immediately obliged, letting you get closer, hands obediently resting on his thighs. For a short while at least.

You had just begun the shadowing process, tilting your head to the side to ensure the design from another angle when his fingers tangled in your hair, a thumb gently grazing your cheekbone before pulling you on his lips the next moment. Your eyes instinctively fluttered close, giving in to follow his movements with your own mouth, hands clutching the back of the chair for stability as he kept you flush to him. But you snapped out when his tongue darted out to reach your lips.

You quickly pulled away, your brain registering your surroundings again and not just the feeling of his soft lips on yours. “I- what was that for ?” you asked with a little laugh, breathing already a little heavy from this little eyes trailing along his face. “I could've smudged your mask.”

Luke couldn’t help but smirk again, pride blooming in his chest, his hands gently combing through your hair. “I don’t know, do I need a rea-”

“Shit!” you whisper-yelled, taking in the sight of his mouth now covered in a mix of your lipstick and clear gloss. “I… my makeup is messed up, isn’t it ?”

His expression was all but guilty as he started tracing his fingers around the outline of your lips, way past where they should've been painted. “Just a little bit… here.”

“Luke!” you whined, pouting with your brows scrunched up as you swatted his arms in frustration, clearly upset by a situation that amused him deeply.

“But-” He cut himself off for a second, pushing towards you to press his lips on the side of your neck, and your legs felt like jello for a moment. “-you looked so pretty,” a kiss, “all focused and in your, by the way incredible, Starfire makeup,” another kiss, “and costume and it just makes me wanna have you close...” Luke tilted his head with an innocent smile, looking up at you with a glint of mischief dancing in his hazel orbs. The next moment, his hands left your nape to snake around your waist ad your thigh, effectively tugging you down to straddle his lap in the chair.

You closed your eyes, blowing air out of your noise like it would elongate your patience towards your boyfriend’s antics. Which it did not. But could you really be annoyed when he looked at you like you were the most precious thing he’d ever lay a finger on, making your heartbeat increase and the butterflies in your stomach fly free ?

Still, you tried to hold your ground. “Luke-” You tried to warn him but it only turned into a whimper as he littered kisses up your neck to that spot behind your ear that made you sigh, your resolve weakening. “Didn’t you say you wanted to get this over with quickly ?” Your fingers curled in his hair, gently pulling him off your now really hot skin, feeling the blush creeping up and the blood pumping at your pulse points. “That we should go join the others at the campfire as soon as possible ?”

Looking down at him, one of the only thoughts in your mind was how little time you’d yet spent admiring how he looked in the costume, when really the look alone could make you insane.

His gaze crossed yours, puppy eyes paired with a pout that made your head spin, and he caught a glimpse of the pink lipstick marks he’d littered on your neck, pout morphing to a smirk quickly. “Oh, I said it. But then I thought ‘like hell’, and now we’re here in your cabin, and everyone’s out at the party…” he hinted, looking back up at you with a look far from innocent this time. His smile was warm and affectionate, but the passion burning in his eyes was unmistakable, and his thumb brushing over your thigh while his other hand crept up your side, teasing the hem of your purple and silver cropped top, was a mix that sent electricity shooting up your whole body.

You closed your eyes for a second, trying to gain back your composure. “You like your Starfire, don’t you ?” The moment he nodded, pulling you closer, was the moment you snapped your fingers to make a little pink fireball appear in your hand, twirling it around your fingers. “Do you like her alien powers too ?”You continued, nicely threatening him, like saying ‘let me the fuck go or I’ll burn a clearing in your hair’. “Luke, there are people, actual people, waiting for us at the party, mkay ?”

“Damn, always so dramatic… It does make you me burn for you even more though,” he said, swiping his tongue over his lip while looking longingly in your eyes. “Pun intended,” he quickly added, and you couldn’t contain a laugh at the unseriousness of this boy. “Okay, c’mon, pass me a cotton pad so I can wipe it off while you finish my mask. Or maybe you like the pink lip marks ?” He raised his eyebrows playfully and you rolled your eyes, shaking your head in amusement and faint disbelief. You turned around, going to stand back up, but he was quicker, hands shooting to tug you back down by the waist. “Nu-uh, where you going ? Stay close.” And you could’ve just melted right there and then as he laid a chaste kiss on your shoulder.

“You big lovesick baby..” you grumbled with a laugh, your annoyance fully dissipated as you twisted your body to reach for cotton pads and the makeup remover, sliding it over his mouth before handing it to him. “And no slick move, you get it all off, right ?”

“Wow, I can’t even show you off anymore, can I ?” he huffed out, still doing as you said, delicately rubbing the cotton over your skin while you added the finishing touches to his, by some miracle of the gods, still intact makeup. “May I even add, Kori and Dick are pretty activ-”

“Luke ?”

“Yeah ?” He looked up at you with big, expectant eyes, while your gaze was more one of bewilderment.

“If you say that in front of anyone else tonight, I’m cutting you precious hair in your sleep.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” But the deadpan of your voice had him almost doubting it.

“Try me,” you stated, challenge in your gaze, before it quickly went back to its usual soft state. “Anyway, you’re all set,” you said, blowing him a playful kiss as you stood back on your two feet, not wanting to ruin your makeup any further. You quickly turned back around, putting your combo back on while Luke stood up behind you, hugging your form from behind.

“Myeah, cool…”

“Oh come on, you were all happy about it 10 minutes ago! Just wait and see, I’m gonna make you love Halloween ~”

“Yeah, I don’t doubt it…” he trailed, breathing in the soft sent of your shampoo he found so relaxing.

“Ok, let’s go,” you finally said, closing back your lip gloss and popping your lips in the mirror as he hurried to the door, insisting on opening it for you. “Simp.”

“You love it, though.”

“I, insanely so, do, I’ll admit,” you replied with a soft chuckle, taking in the vision of him next to the door, waiting for you. “But what’s really insane is how much you do Nightwing justice in this suit, fits you so well…” you trailed, shamelessly looking Luke up and down.

“Yeah ? Even the bakery ?” he replied cheekily, sly smile dancing on his still slightly swollen lips.

You instantly laughed at his words, passing him by as you exited through the door. “You wish, birdie.”

Ok I had a little (lot) fun writing this, don't even come at me for posting it on Christmas<3

Also, it's my birthday, yayy (I'm 19, not yay.)

Anygaysss hope you liked it, bubye ~

Love, Nana -

[milk-tea-sakura]

Back Story- Price decides that his team, Ghost, Soap and Gaz need a much needed home cooked meal. And who better to cook it than his own missus. Plus with you cooking he knows for sure his men will eat all the food, after all they don't want to see the disappointed look on your face.

Cw: Fluff, "Family" Gathering

Price looked at his wife Y/n, a smile on his face. "Love, I was thinking... this Christmas, I'd like to invite the team to come over for a home-cooked meal. Would that be alright with you?"

You smiled back at him, clearly pleased by the idea. "Of course, dear. I'd love to have them over for Christmas it'll be nice to have some company other than just us."

Price nodded, relieved that you were on board with the idea. "Excellent, I'll let them know. I'm sure they'll appreciate a warm home-cooked meal and some good company on Christmas day."

You nodded "I'll start planning the menu, it'll be nice to cook for a couple extra people this year. Do you know what they like to eat?"

Price chuckled, shaking his head. "I doubt they care. They're just a bunch of hungry soldiers who'll eat anything i put infront of them."

You laughed, imagining the men eagerly devouring whatever food you put on the table. "Well, I'll make sure I cook enough food for a small army then."

Price grinned, obviously amused by the thought. "They'll appreciate that. They'll probably be asking for seconds before they even finish their first plate."

You chuckled, thinking about the men asking for more even with a full plate. "Well, I'll make sure we have plenty extras just incase. And maybe some extra deserts aswell."

Price nodded, clearly looking forward to the Christmas dinner. "That sounds perfect. I'm sure the team will appreciate your cooking, love. And I know I will as well."

~~Christmas day~~

Christmas day had finally arrived, and you were in the kitchen busily preparing the big dinner for the teams dinner. The house smelled like a mix of delicious spices and holiday treats as you finished up the last few dishes in the kitchen while singing along to Christmas music.

After a long couple of hours of cooking, you were finally done. The table was finally set with all kinds of homemade dishes, and the house felt warm and inviting. Price helped put the finishing touches on everything when he heard a knock on the door.

Price smiled at you as he went to answer the door. He opened it to find Ghost, Soap, and Gaz standing on the other side, all wearing smiles and holding gifts in their hands.

"Come on in, lads," Price said, stepping back to let them enter. The men all came into the house, looking around and taking in the festive decorations.

"Wow, the house looks amazing," Soap said, looking around at the Christmas decorations. Gaz and Ghost nodded in agreement, clearly both impressed by your handiwork.

You came out of the kitchen to greet them, a big smile on your face. "I'm so glad you could all make it. Merry Christmas, everyone."

The men all greeted her back, wishing you a Merry Christmas as well. They handed her the gifts they'd brought, each one wrapped neatly and tied with a bow.

You thank them for the gifts, setting them under the Christmas tree in the corner of the room. "Please, make yourselves comfortable. The food is just about ready to be served."

The men all found seats around the dining table, with Ghost sitting on one end and Soap and Gaz sitting on either side of him. Price took a seat next to you, a small twinge of nervousness in his stomach.

You, noticing your husband's slight anxiety, placed a reassuring hand on his arm. "Relax, darling. Everything will be fine."

Price nodded and taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. "I know, love. I just want everything to go smoothly, that's all."

"You said yourself that these men will eat practically anything."

Price chuckled, his nerves starting to ease a bit. "You're right, you're right. They're basically human garbage disposals, they'll eat almost anything put infront of them."

Gaz and Soap mock-gasped at his comment. "Oi, we're not that bad!" Gaz said, feigning offense.

Price just laughed "Oh please, I've seen you two eat. You'll eat anything that's not nailed down."

Gaz and Soap both shrugged, not denying the accusation. Soap chimed in with a grin. "We just have a good appetite, that's all."

"It's because the Army starves you all, eat. I made it all for you guys."

Soap and Gaz both nodded, their eyes roaming over the spread of homemade food on the table. "We don't need to be told twice, Mrs. Price," Gaz said with a grin. "We'll gladly eat it all for you."

"What about you Ghost? What would you like to be passed to you?" You say with a slight jester to the food on the table.

Ghost looked over the food on the table, his eyes scanning the various dishes. "I'll take a bit of everything, love," he said, a small smile on his lips. "It all looks delicious."

Y/n chuckled, feeling emboldened by his response. "Everything, huh? You have quite the appetite, Ghost."

Ghost shrugged, unashamed of his hunger. "What can I say? I'm a man who knows what he likes."

"Well what are we waiting for, start passing food around. I mainly just want ham and sausage balls but you are all welcome to anything on the table."

The men all smiled at her words, clearly eager to dig in. "You don't have to tell us twice," Soap said, already reaching for the serving platter of ham on the table.

Gaz quickly followed suit, grabbing the platter of sausage balls she'd mentioned. "These look amazing," he said, sniffing at the food appreciatively.

Ghost nodded in agreement, his eyes roaming over the rest of the table. "Everything looks fantastic," he said, his voice low and rough. "You've outdone yourself, Y/n."

Y/n smiled at Ghost's compliment, feeling a sense of pride in her cooking. "I'm glad you all like it. Please, dig in."

The men didn't need any more invitation. They immediately started passing dishes around the table, loading up their plates with a bit of everything.

The room was filled with the sounds of forks and knives clinking against plates, as well as the occasional appreciative moan or sigh of pleasure.

"This is incredible," Soap said, his mouth full of food. "You really are an amazing cook, Y/n."

Gaz nodded in agreement, his fork already spearing another sausage ball. "Agreed. I don't think I've ever had a Christmas meal this good."

Ghost, as usual, said nothing, focused on eating as much as he could. But his face was a clear indication of his enjoyment, his expression one of pure bliss as he savored each bite.

Price sat back in his chair, watching the men devour his wife's cooking with a mixture of pride and amusement. "You see, love? I told you they'd eat everything you put in front of them."

"And you were nervous."

Price chuckled, a trace of embarrassment in his voice. "Yeah, maybe I was a bit worried they wouldn't like your cooking. But I should have known better. You're an amazing cook, after all."

"You eat too, love"

"Of course," Price said, grabbing a plate and starting to load it up with food. He glanced over at the men, all of whom were already on their second or third helpings. "You boys better slow down, or you'll eat us out of house and home."

"Their fine, I made extra"

"Looks like we've got our own personal eating team here," Soap teased between bites. "We can clear a buffet like nobody's business."

Gaz chuckled, nodding in agreement. "Damn right. Give us a challenge and we'll win it. You won't see a single crumb left on these plates."

Ghost just grunted in agreement, his mouth too full to speak. But the fact that he was already on his third helping spoke volumes

The dinner continued on, the men continuing to devour the food as fast as they could. They all praised Y/n's cooking, and even Ghost managed to mutter a compliment or two.

Price sat back in his chair, watching the display with a mixture of amusement and pride. He'd never seen his team eat so much, but he couldn't blame them. His wife's cooking was truly incredible.

As the meal came to an end, Y/n couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. She smiled, knowing that she had managed to feed and please a group of hungry soldiers.