#this was my first time making gingerbread men as well.

[squezzepig]

little guys i made.

[darkmatilda]

𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐚 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you thought that after a certain misunderstanding, your relationship had taken on a purely platonic and friendly form but then the investigation sent you to the freezing wilderness of alaska, where every night you find warmth in his bed.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x fem!bau reader, the same reader as in my story "the bolter" but it's not necessary to read it before! there are no major references, but people who have read it might treat this as a continuation (if they want to). in this story, we still have our wonderful queen elle greenaway, gideon and morgan, and many of my attempts (not always successful) at being funny. mostly smut with A LOT of plot, description of the case, oral (f receiving) and some much actions but described in a subtle way. a little bit of angst, but I wouldn't be myself if I didn't add some. again, GLASSES REID!!

𝐚/𝐧: first fic at the beginning of the month, i really wanted to post it today. i think it's time to start posting christmas-themed works? would you be interested? by the way, i hope december will treat you kind <3

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 11k

“I’m freezing, God, I’m freezing.”

“Me too, look how I’m shaking, I swear, one more hour and my feet will fall off, and then my toes…”

“Guys, for god’s sake!” Morgan finally spoke up, his voice tinged with impatience. The hood of his waterproof, windproof jacket covered almost half of his face, and even so, he was clearly the lightest dressed of all of them. “We’ve landed.” He pulled off a glove to check his watch. “Just under fifteen minutes ago. You still don’t know shit about freezing, so stop complaining like a bunch of old women in a knitting cycle…”

“I’d love to be an old lady in a knitting circle right now,” you sighed, your breath immediately turning to steam. You exchanged a look with Reid, who was freezing just as much as you were, and together, you had been driving Derek crazy with your whining. You all had similar gear, thermal layers, and jackets designed for extreme conditions, but it still wasn’t enough. “Sitting by the fireplace, knitting a sweater. Gossiping with other retirees.”

“Exchanging gingerbread recipes,” Spencer suggested, his tone just as wistful.

“And sharing tips for dealing with worms in our cats’ anuses,” you added.

“I’m done," Derek muttered.

Your work often sent you to various corners of the United States, but it rarely involved Alaska. Well, due to the state’s relatively low population density compared to others, fewer crimes were committed there, especially at the federal level.

However, in recent weeks, strange disappearances had occurred—teenagers and young men. Their bodies were found in remote areas, deep in the forest or in completely uninhabited wilderness, places so isolated that even an experienced survivalist would struggle to find their way out.

The local police, as local police often do in most criminal cases, initially pretended there wasn’t a problem, insisting the victims had died as a result of tragic accidents, simply getting lost during a hike. But when the number of deaths began to rise, and the victims included even high school students—locals who were well aware of the dangers of wandering alone after dark in such perilous areas—the case landed on JJ’s desk.

And so, you found yourselves in the brutally frigid surroundings of Fairbanks, heading toward the inn where you were supposed to drop off your things and immediately dive into the investigation.

"The temperature this week is going to range from 15 to 5 degrees Fahrenheit," Spencer informed you over his shoulder as he opened the car trunk to retrieve the luggage. "Of course, that's during the day. At night, it’ll drop as low as -4 degrees."

Elle shivered as he handed her her bag.

"I was doing just fine without those numbers," she said, nudging you lightly with her shoulder—a touch you barely felt through the thick layers of clothing. "What do you say we make up for this with a New Year’s trip? Mallorca? The Himalayas?"

"I’m dreaming of the Caribbean," Morgan chimed in. "Beaches, sunshine, and cocktails—that’s what I’ll be dreaming of tonight."

"And half-naked sunbathers," you added.

"And half-naked sunbathers," he agreed with a grin.

Elle trudged ahead, sinking into the snow up to her calves. The inn was a sizable wooden building, adorned with balconies and terraces that, given the weather, likely went unused, though they added considerable charm. It was tucked away in a secluded spot, offering privacy and a peaceful atmosphere—ideal for work.

You lingered by the car, waiting for Reid to grab his things, unwilling to leave him behind.

“Do you know much about the northern lights, Rudolph?” you teased, nodding toward his red-tipped nose. “I’ve always dreamed of seeing them.”

“Well, then you’re in luck,” he replied, looking at you with a slight smile. “We’re in one of the best places to see them, during the season with the longest nights. They’ll be visible pretty early, though the most stunning views will probably happen between ten at night and two in the morning. I’ve always wanted to see them in person too.”

"So, what do you think?" you asked, raising your eyebrows. "Midnight, at my door, and we’ll go play aurora hunters?"

You shivered just at the thought. Of course, you were joking—there was no way you'd even stick a single hand out from under the covers at this hour with those freezing nighttime temperatures. You planned to admire the beautiful phenomenon from your room window. Warm, you hoped.

"Alright. Just make sure you bundle up,"

 "Sure. Thermal thong and all that."

Your room was on the same floor as Elle's and JJ's, and you were glad to have them just behind the next door. Unpacking took you only a minute, and within that time, you were all together, sitting as a team, going through the case files.

“These boys were so young,” JJ remarked, shaking her head with a hint of dread. “Sixteen, the youngest, twenty-four, the oldest. They were found in such remote locations that if it hadn’t been for the ongoing professional search and the dogs, who knows how long it would have taken before anyone stumbled upon their bodies.”

“Given the heavy snowfall, they might not have been found until the thaw. What do their parents and families say about all of this?” Hotch asked.

“Unanimously, they believe their kids would never have ventured that far on their own. This is where the mystery starts, though, because there were no wounds on their bodies, except for the ones they inflicted on themselves in their attempts to survive in the cold.”

“So, it looks like someone kidnapped them, drove them out to a place you’d never get out of without serious survival skills, and just left them to die?” Derek asked, baffled.

“Seems that way. Yesterday, an eighteen-year-old named David Moore was reported missing. Normally, it probably would have been classified as a delayed return home or maybe a runaway, and the police wouldn’t have even taken the report. But given the current circumstances and the rising panic among the locals, his parents decided not to wait. A wise decision.”

"How many hours has it been since he went missing?" you asked, running your own grim calculations in your head. "Around eight, right? Is it even possible for him to survive the night out there in these conditions?"

"That depends on what he was wearing and the specific location where he was left," Reid explained, thoughtfully cleaning the lenses of his glasses. You realized it had been a while since you’d seen him wearing them—he used to wear them daily, but lately, it was only on occasion. For a moment, you found yourself staring at his face, liking how the dark frames suited it.

"His parents believe he was likely abducted on his way home from tutoring," Elle noted, flipping through the case file. "People around here dress warmly as a habit, but even so, I doubt his everyday clothes would be particularly suited to weather like this. At night. In the middle of the woods."

An uncomfortable silence followed her words, broken only by Hotch clearing his throat.

"Anyway, we need to join the ongoing search efforts. We’ll be more useful out in the field than trying to build a profile with the scraps of information we have. I’m not sure if I need to remind you, but out of habit, I will: be cautious and don’t, under any circumstances, stray from the search group. They know this area."

Before you all moved out to get to work, Reid shot you a fleeting glance. Like a dad, you mouthed silently, and he let out the faintest chuckle. You both enjoyed spotting those unmistakably parental tendencies in your boss, though they were directed at you and the rest of the team.

Hours of searching had, unfortunately, yielded no results—the crushing pressure of time bore down on you all. The knowledge that each passing moment was stripping this boy of his chances for survival felt almost unbearable. If he had somehow managed to survive the first eight hours in the forest, sixteen seemed an increasingly unlikely feat.

And yet, hope lingered. The group, driven by his distraught family, refused to stop, likely continuing to scour the area despite warnings. Meanwhile, you stood in your hotel room, so close to the window that the cold glass brushed against your nose.

Your thoughts were consumed by the case and the fate of the teenager. Just as Reid had said, the sky was illuminated by that breathtaking greenish glow. Watching it felt almost surreal, and you wanted to take in as much of it as your eyes could hold.

If it weren’t for the fact that you had frozen to your very core during the search, you might have stepped outside to see it more clearly. 

Just as the thought crossed your mind, there was a knock at your door.

You furrowed your brow, not expecting anyone. When you opened it, you came face to face with none other than Spencer. Well, it was hard to tell it was him at first. He was bundled up so tightly in layers of warm clothes that his body lost its natural shape and resembled more of a puffy ball than a person.

"Hey," he greeted awkwardly, raising his hand hesitantly and scanning your appearance from head to toe. "You're not ready yet. Sorry, I think I came too early. I thought we were meeting at midnight..."

"We were meeting?"

"For the northern lights hunt, you forgot? I checked the Kp index, it's a measure of aurora activity that determines its intensity, and it turns out tonight is really favorable... wait, why are you laughing?"

His furrowed brows and face, barely visible in the dimly lit hallway but clearly confused, only made you laugh harder. Shaking your head in disbelief, you covered your smile with your hand.

"Spencer, I was joking," you said, suddenly feeling guilty that your sarcasm had led him to spend time and effort preparing for a night out. "There’s no way I'm going out in this cold. I’d rather dive headfirst into boiling water, at least that would be warmer."

“Oh,” he let out a short, disappointed sigh. He quickly nodded, as if trying to accept the situation, and forced a more neutral expression. “I—I really thought you were serious. Sorry for... for waking you up, then.”

For a moment, you stood in silence, your hand resting on the doorframe. An odd, unexpected thought sprinted through your mind. It had been such a long time since the two of you had been together like this, late at night, in the same room...

“Well, in that case,” he cleared his throat, snapping you out of your thoughts. “I’m sorry again. Let’s just pretend this didn’t happen, okay? Forget I came here and embarrassed myself. That’s all. Sorry. I should probably go if I want to avoid being completely sleep-deprived tomorrow...”

“Go where?” you interrupted, suddenly standing straighter, alarmed.

“Aurora hunting.”

“By yourself? Spencer, have you lost your mind?”

He opened and closed his mouth, caught off guard by your outburst.

“Well, I don’t know when I’ll ever get another chance like this, being in the Arctic Circle...”

“It’s pitch dark and freezing cold. You don’t know the area—”

“...I’ve had a chance to look around, and I’m not going far. There’s a small hill just behind the inn—”

“...And there’s a freaking serial killer on the loose around here, did you forget?”

“Well, I have a gun.”

“Well, I’m not letting you go,” you cut him off firmly, crossing your arms over your chest. Spencer tilted his head, clearly ready to argue further, but before he could speak, you added, “Give me five minutes.”

“What?”

“Five minutes to get dressed. I’m coming with you.”

At first, you could have sworn a faint smile flickered across his lips. But then, just as quickly, he shook his head vehemently.

“No, really, you don’t have to. Not just because of me. I’ll be fine…”

"Five minutes," you repeated once more, slightly flustered and trying not to dwell on the fact that the moment you stepped outside, you’d likely regret this decision. “Wait here. Or come inside—I don’t want to shut the door in your face.” As you spoke, you opened the door wider, inviting him in.

Without wasting another second, you headed straight for your suitcase. Okay, how many layers does one need for a night outside in Alaska?

“I actually bought a set of thermal underwear specifically for this case,” you said, pulling out the essentials from your bag. Most of what you’d worn during the day would work fine, but you debated adding an extra sweater and another pair of socks. “And, oh my God, I hate it. I’d rather wear lace thongs 24/7 than spend more than eight hours in this bugger.”

You glanced subtly over your shoulder, curious to see his reaction and waiting for his reply. It wasn’t like you wanted to embarrass him, but you absolutely adored how, in response to even your most suggestive remarks, he could always respond with complete seriousness—like he was dissecting some profound issue. Judging by the furrow of his brow, this time would be no different.

“Really? You know, thermal underwear is generally associated with comfort. The fabric is typically elastic, soft, and breathable. High-quality models are even seamless, so they don’t cause any chafing. Maybe you bought a poorly fitted one?”

“Maybe. I don’t know, I have no expertise in this area. It digs in so much, though, and I have to keep myself from adjusting it. Can you imagine me sticking my hand in my pants right in front of the missing boy’s family?”

He hesitated before responding.

“Not really. But I can picture Hotch’s face.”

“And I can picture a termination notice on my desk the next day,” you quipped.

You grabbed all the clothes you had gathered and disappeared into the bathroom to layer them on. It wasn’t a quick job—by the end, you felt like your movements were completely restricted by the weight of it all—but at least you were prepared. When the first merciless blast of Alaskan air brushed against the tiny exposed part of your face, it didn’t immediately make you want to run back inside screaming. 

Instead, you sighed in awe.

"I know I’ve invoked God's name a hundred times already, but God, this is beautiful," you said, feeling your own words too inadequate to describe the miracle above your heads. The streaks of light stretching across the sky, an intense green with a certain transparency, a glassy quality, the stars peeking through it all.

 Spencer turned to you over his shoulder. He was only a couple of steps ahead, but he kept doing it as if afraid that in a moment of not seeing you, you'd fall into the snow and disappear forever.

“Wait until we get to the spot,” he said, his smile clearly excited. In his dark eyes, the light seemed to reflect and stay there, even when he blinked, as though he had already absorbed it all deep inside. “It’s only ten minutes away, but it makes a difference.”

"I hope you're not one of those people who says, 'Oh, it's just around the corner, we don't need a cab!' and then leads you to walk halfway across the city" you scoffed. You tried to keep your gaze fixed on his back, his lantern swinging in his hand. Alaska, the vast empty terrain, the thick layers of snow, seemed to hide some sort of mystery beneath them, and it filled you with a fair amount of fear. "Will you shield me with your chest if a bear jumps out at us?"

"Actually, yes, I would," he replied. "But not because of heroism, it's more because I have bear spray in my pocket, and by that very fact, it's probably my duty."

"Okay, let’s make a deal: you protect us from a potential bear attack, and I’ll take care of Bigfoot. By the way, that legend never really scared me. A monkey with gigantic feet just sounds too ridiculous to me. Remember that episode of History's Mysteries that we watched at your place?"

You both shared a love for a certain TV show about conspiracy theories and famous mysteries from around the world.

 "Of course. You know part of it was filmed right here in Fairbanks? Bigfoot never really fascinated me either, but I liked that at the end of the episode they also mentioned other Alaskan legends. Like The Kushtaka, for example."

"I don't remember that. But I'm not sure I want you to tell me," you confessed, taking a breath, the cold biting into your lungs. Despite the layers of clothing, it was getting colder and colder, but at least you'd finally reached the spot Spencer had chosen. He was right; the vast plain on the small hill was perfect for watching the aurora. You had the feeling that the sky was only an inch above your head, and a childlike urge to reach up and touch it. "Alright, you've got me too intrigued. Go ahead."

You noticed that, unlike you, Spencer wasn't tilting his head back to gaze at the sky. He was looking at you.

"The Kushtaka is a creature from the folklore of the surrounding tribes. It is most often described as a hybrid of a human and an otter..."

You couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

"Otters, seriously? Is that supposed to chill me to the bone?"

Spencer raised an eyebrow in a somewhat sarcastic manner.

"Okay, let me tell you the story differently," he proposed in a similar tone, swallowing as if to prepare himself for the tension-building drop in his voice. "Just like now, we're heading out to see the northern lights. Just the two of us, surrounded by nothing but darkness. The sky is overcast that day, and there’s hardly any light to see." At that moment, he switched off the flashlight he was holding, and his previously well-lit face faded into obscurity. You crossed your arms over your chest, silently promising yourself you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of being scared.

“In this story, do my thermal undies also ride up so uncomfortably?”

“Your underwear isn’t a significant part of this tale. Anyway… crap, where was I?”

“The thought of my underwear distracted you?”

You heard him sigh, almost in exasperation, and a sly smile spread across your face.

“Let me continue. No more comments about underwear.”

“My underwear or in general?”

“SO WE’RE HEADING TO SEE THE NORTHERN LIGHTS. It’s dark, it’s creepy, and you’ve got chills running down your spine. Then suddenly, you realize you’ve lost me.”

“Phew,” you exhaled with theatrical relief. “Finally got rid of that creep who kept obsessing over my underwear.”

"You know what, I’m done. I’m done. I won’t tell you the story about the human-otter hybrid."

“I’m devastated by this fact!” you assured him in the same overly dramatic tone. Taking it a step further, you jumped toward him, desperately grabbing the fabric of his jacket. “Dr. Reid, please, I beg you, tell me about the human-otter hybrid. I need this. I’ll sell my soul and body, just please…”

Spencer threw his head back, laughing, and as you tried to calm yourself down, you leaned against him. Taken by surprise, he lost his balance, sending both of you toppling into the snow.

“Damn, we’re going to be wet!” he groaned, trying to get up from the deep snowdrift you both had fallen into. It wasn’t the easiest task with all the layers of clothing and a girl who was dying of laughter on top of him.

“I think that’s enough of our aurora watching,” you said once you both finally managed to get back on your feet. Despite the ski pants and very, very warm clothes, you were starting to feel frozen. “And enough of your legends. It’s late, and we should head back.”

“You didn’t let me finish,” he complained, sounding like a little puppy that had been scolded for peeing on the carpet.

“You can tell me on the way,” you replied. “Come on.”

You sent one last glance toward the sky before moving forward, your mind focused entirely on the vision of a hot, soothing bath and a blanket with an extra layer for warmth. For the rest of the walk, Spencer didn’t try to use his low voice or mysterious narrative tone. He finished the story in his usual manner, sounding more like a fascinated lecturer. You couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed—he had sounded really sexy earlier, you had to admit.

When you both got back to the guesthouse, you glanced at the stairs leading up to your room and shook your head in refusal.

“If I don’t get under at least five blankets right this second, I’m going to die, so sorry my dear, but I’m coming to you and I won’t leave until I’m warm, or I’ll never leave at all,” you said quickly and firmly.

Spencer raised an eyebrow but replied just as energetically.

“I don’t think I have five blankets in my room.”

“Three will be fine.”

And that's exactly how it went. First, you took off your jackets, and then, in your typical everyday clothes, you quickly jumped into bed, covered with the duvet up to your neck, waiting for the pleasant warmth to spread across your bodies.

“Was seeing the aurora worth all that suffering?' you asked, turning onto your side in bed so you could face him.

'Well, it wouldn't have been suffering if someone hadn't shoved both of us into the snow...'

He said this while lying on his back, but shortly after these words, he followed your lead and also turned onto his side. Your breath became shallower. It had been almost a year since you last had him this close, almost a year since you slept together, and then decided to let the situation fade into oblivion.

Honestly, you almost succeeded. After all, that incident was like every other encounter you had with guys. Spontaneous, one-time, followed by bolting. But you didn’t see those other guys afterward. Every day at work, forced to watch him wipe his glasses, his damn glasses, with the same fingers he…

“Are you thinking about something specific?” he suddenly asked, his voice eerily similar to the one he used to tell you the story on the hill, a voice you found so sexy.

That was the kind of man Spencer Reid was. Always wanting to know what was going on inside your head.

You sighed, probably too loudly.

"You don't want to know what I'm thinking right now," 

You felt a little pathetic, realizing that your whole excuse about not being able to go to your room was just a pretext to end up in his bed. Once again. This whole trip to Alaska must have really messed with your head. Or maybe it cleared the fog in your mind and left a single thought, naked and defenseless. You wanted him. 

"I know how pathetic that sounds, but I always want to know what you're thinking," he replied after a moment, swallowing audibly. You heard it clearly, you were so close. So close...

You had to make a quick decision: whether to continue and face the consequences the next day, or, perhaps worse, to be rejected? It was possible that he had learned from your last time together, and didn’t want to get involved with you that way.

"I can show you what I'm thinking," you finally proposed, not blinking for a long moment, just carefully studying the features of his face, any signs of uncertainty or tension. 

Because there was that one small seed of probability that he wanted you too.

His lips parted, but were immediately covered by your kiss. 

Slow and curious. How did he taste after all this time? 

Maybe it was a thought whispered by the moment, but you had the feeling that even better. 

You didn’t play the role of a taster for too long. Soon, still not pulling his lips away from yours, you lifted yourself into a sitting position, propping yourself up with your elbow on the bed, pressing closer to him with every passing moment, more intensely and hungrily. 

Something seemed to haunt you, preventing you from moving any further. Something in his posture—lying on his back, surrendered to your control, yet somehow absent.

You pulled away from his lips, your gazes meeting. There was a certain weakness and sadness in his eyes.

"Is something wrong?" you managed to ask, your voice strangely trembling.

Spencer suddenly sat up, straightening himself, though there was still a slight bend in his shoulders. His movement forced you to pull away from his chest.

"I can't do this," he confessed quietly, taking a deep breath. "I can't sleep with you." In a way, it hurt more than if he had simply refused to let you kiss him. Your forehead furrowed in disappointment and... shock?

"Why?" you asked directly, foregoing any excuses about not aiming for that. Because you had been.

He let out a laugh, filled with pity.

"Because after this, I won’t be able to stop thinking about you. And you, after tonight, won’t want me anymore."

You were breathing heavily, completely unsure of what to say. His words were painfully eye-opening, first and foremost. And secondly... true. Because did you plan, like a normal person, to wake up next to him, greet him, date him? That wasn’t how you operated. In your plans, there was always just one option—escape. Exactly like that time.

You slowly began to slide off the bed, his hand moved to reach for yours, and you hoped he would take it, but at the last moment, he hesitated. He hesitated.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," you reassured him, yet you didn’t look at him the whole time. You sounded stiff, almost reproachful, even though you were the one who should be reproached. You were the problem.

You looked around the floor, used to picking up your clothes from it, but this time there was nothing. Except for the jacket hung up and the ski pants you’d pulled on over your regular ones to avoid freezing in the cold night. Leaving without a word seemed excessive.

Your back rested against the door as you turned to look at him. Your quick-thinking mind raced, searching for something to say to at least salvage some dignity in this situation…

“Let’s pretend this didn’t happen,” you finally suggested.

Spencer was still sitting on the edge of the bed, as if he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to get up or stay there. Eventually, it seemed like he stayed, though you weren’t sure, having already turned toward the door, your hand pressing on the doorknob.

“T-think that’s the best solution,” he admitted, just as one of your feet stepped into the hallway.

Then, you heard someone whistling.

You immediately stepped back into his room, keeping your face turned toward the door.

“Damn, it’s Morgan,” you said, recognizing the person in the hallway by the sound alone. “We better not let him see me leave, or he’ll never leave us alone…”

You expected that when you turned around, you’d find him still sitting on the bed. After all, you hadn’t heard him get up, hadn’t heard him approach. You certainly didn’t expect that, when you turned, his lips would almost immediately attack yours.

It was so unexpected, so sudden, that the back of your head slammed against the door.

“Fuck, sorry…”

But you didn’t think for a second about the pain, nor did you focus on why Spencer had suddenly changed his mind. Your attention was solely on the two of you, two desperate pairs of lips pressing together and pulling apart, never staying away for long.

He pulled you toward him, wrapping his arms around your waist. Unlike the last time, it was your back that hit the mattress first. The cool surface, the heated bodies, and the weight of the layers of clothing between you both.

"You've changed," you noticed.

A different dynamic. The pace was set by him—just moments ago, you were standing by the door, and now, half of your clothes were gone, while the soft skin of your neck was buried under a cascade of messy, impatient kisses.

"Do you like it?" he asked, his face hovering above yours, one hand resting on the bed next to it.

"I haven't gotten enough to say for sure," you replied, teasingly. "But I get the feeling you're more confident now. A lot of practice since last time?"

He shrugged.

"I don't think it's about practice," he said, his hand sliding down your side until it stopped at the waistband of your pants, lingering there but not moving any lower. You reached for his hand, brushing against it before trailing your fingers along its length up to his forearm, feeling one of his veins beneath your fingertips. "I guess... I was just scared you'd leave, and I had to stop you somehow. That’s why I rushed," he admitted.

His gaze lingered mostly on your face, but it wandered across your body, his frustration clear as he eyed the layers of clothing still in his way. Something about his desperation and impatience stirred something playful in you, and you couldn’t resist teasing him.

Propping yourself up on one elbow, you tilted your chin to look at him.

 “If I tried to leave right now, how would you stop me?”

The corner of his mouth twitched at your question, but he decided to play along, nodding thoughtfully.

“I think I’ve got a few ideas.”

“Care to show me?” you asked, your voice dripping with challenge.

For a moment, he didn’t move at all, just kept staring at you, until he allowed himself that first, utterly shameless drop of his gaze and a soft sigh. His lips began their journey, starting at their usual, safe spot on your neck, trailing toward your shoulder, and crossing over your collarbone with deliberate intent. You were still half-sitting, struggling to steady your breathing so your chest wouldn’t rise and fall too much or too quickly, trying not to disrupt him. The first hint of uncertainty appeared between your breasts when his kisses momentarily softened, carefully exploring unfamiliar territory and testing your sensitivity.

You struggled more and more to keep yourself from collapsing fully onto the mattress. But when his cool tongue met your skin, pressing against it so firmly that his forehead brushed against your stomach, relentlessly moving lower, you couldn’t hold out any longer.

He was between your knees, bent in anticipation. He reached them, sliding his hands down your thighs and coaxing them to relax. He fumbled a bit while unbuttoning your pants, and had trouble sliding them down while you were lying there. You lifted your hips to help, even tried to do it yourself, but he stopped your hands, placing them above your head.

“You don’t have to do anything,” he said softly, finally freeing your legs from both pant legs. His hands wrapped around your ankles, his thumb tracing gentle circles around one of them, which somehow completely seized your attention, and you focused solely on that subtle motion. For a moment, you closed your eyes, and when you opened them again, you noticed that his chin was just above your panty line. "Actually, it will be much more pleasant for you if you just focus on feeling and nothing else. I was supposed to show you my ideas, remember?"

“As someone who apologized for being in too much of a hurry, you sure have an unexpectedly large amount of patience now,” you remarked with reproach, lifting your head again. Maybe keeping it down allowed for more comfort and relief for your neck, but on the other hand, the sight of his face immersed between your thighs was simply priceless.

If the sight itself was priceless, how do you describe that feeling?

With every move of his tongue, your hips swayed, adjusted to the rhythm. Often tense, trying to find some outlet, especially when sighs escaped his lips and his cool breath penetrated through you.

"Think I'm gonna cume embarrassingly quickly," you confessed, unsure whether he even understood anything from your sentence, which was at least interwoven with two moans. Three.

When it happened, you uncontrollably squeezed his head with your knees, a similar groan also came from his mouth. 

Spender didn’t stay in that position for long. When you opened your tightly shut eyelids, his face was right above yours, stretched in such satisfaction, as if he was the one receiving pleasure.

"Was it too quick for you?" he asked, still absorbing you with the same gaze, which seemed to pulse with desire. "If you want, we can try again, you’ll surely improve..."

"My God, when did you become so cocky?"

He chuckled, but instead of answering, he once again pressed himself against your body and skin, closing his eyes in devotion and lingering on each spot for as long as it took, as if he could never be satisfied, no matter how much he took in. 

Your hands, instead of tormenting the innocent fabric of the blanket, moved to his back, tightly embracing his neck and basically everything they could latch onto. All of his earlier composure seemed to evaporate; you didn’t even have to ask twice to make him slide in. It actually sounded more like an order than a request, a bit desperate, it's true, but still an order.

"How is it even possible that it feels even better than the last time?” His words, his lips, ticked your neck as he moaned out this question. "Just... I feel like I won’t have enough of you tonight."

"The night is long," you said, almost into the air, not really paying attention to the meaning behind it. "Tomorrow night too."

Spencer stopped, completely. His eyes desperately searched for yours, and when he finally found them, they widened in disbelief.

"Tomorrow night too?" he repeated. "But I thought... I thought you didn't want anything more than a one-night fling…”

"It's already our second," you reminded him. "And I'll be completely honest with you, I don’t want to walk around all day tomorrow sexually frustrated just at the sight of you. Let's make a deal, okay?"

"A deal?"

"Yeah. I'll tell you about it in a moment, but right now...Oh God, I think I’m gonna…”

You both got dressed right after, but not because either of you intended to leave. The temperature inside simply didn’t allow for sleeping naked, no matter how warm you were after sex.

"So?" he asked, handing you the piece of paper you had sent him to the bathroom for. Then he sat on the bed, facing you. "What did you mean by this deal?"

"Well, after thinking about it, I'm not sure if it's a good idea after all..."

"I want to know, even if just out of curiosity."

"You want to know everything, Spence. But fine. I thought maybe... while we're in Alaska, we could just, you know, allow ourselves to do whatever we want. In more direct terms, fuck each other as much as we want.”  

It sounded a bit...crazy? Spencer kept his gaze suspended in the air for a moment before turning it back to you, questioning.

"But only as long as we're in Alaska?"

"Exactly. Since there's only one floor between us, why not take advantage of it?" you tried to joke, lightening the mood.

It didn’t seem to have much effect on him.

"But what happens next? When we get back?"

"Do we really have to think about that?" you wondered, moving closer to him, to the body that just moments ago made you feel so good. "We'll get used to being apart, just like before."

"Okay," he sucked in a breath, clearly torn over the proposal. "I mean, no, I didn’t mean okay... because it doesn’t seem like a great idea, but on the other hand... on the other hand, I really, really want you, even if it only means for this short time."

You smiled, though deep down, somewhere very deep, there was something somber in that gesture. 

Ignoring that, you kissed him to seal the deal. And not just that.

"That was for good night and goodbye."

"Goodbye? You're leaving?" A clear look of disappointment crossed his face, but he quickly shook his head, trying to get rid of it. "Good night, then."

 "It's not that I don't want to stay. It's just that it would be better to be well-rested for work, and I don't think we'd sleep properly if I decided to spend the night here. “

You saw him open his mouth, ready to protest, but you had already gotten up from the bed and started gathering your remaining things.

"Wait," he called as you were about to leave. "You said... you said something that's been bothering me, you know? I can even quote it, so listen up. You said that you don't want to walk around all day tomorrow sexually frustrated just at the sight of me."

You couldn't help but let out a burst of laughter.

"And that bothers you?"

"I don’t understand what you meant by that. What in my behavior makes you feel that way?"

"A lot of things."

"Like what?"

"I'll tell you someday. Maybe it's better if you're not aware of it."

"Hey, now I won’t be able to sleep!"

"Anyway, good night, sweet boy."

*

Almost the first thing in the morning, you found yourselves at the local police station, full of disappointment and anxiety. You had to inform the parents of the missing boy found in the forest that he had been located. But unfortunately, it was not good news.

The first hours of the day passed in constant analysis and discussion, until finally, around noon, you gathered in front of the town's police officers, ready to deliver the profile. You didn’t have much time for any reflection on the previous night, or even for a conversation with Spencer. A sober one this time, when you weren’t intoxicated by desire and each other.

You stood in the corner of the room, listening to Hotch and Gideon.

"The UNSUB is a white male, likely with military experience or, at the very least, extensive survival skills, estimated to be around 50-60 years old. He abducts teenagers, boys, and young men who look younger than their actual age, which suggests he doesn’t know his victims very well."

"If he observes them, it’s for a short period. He doesn’t have time to get to know them but understands their routine and daily schedule well enough to know when to strike."

"He doesn’t drug his victims, which means he is physically capable of abducting them without assistance. This ties into the type of victims he selects. All these boys were more the intellectual type than athletes. When abducted, they were coming from school, tutoring sessions, or the library. David Moore, for instance, was tall but lanky. His family described him as gentle, with a big heart and a passion for learning."

"The UNSUB abandons them in remote forest locations. Forcing them to fight for survival gives him a sense of control and serves as a way to prove his belief that modern society and boys today are incapable of handling adversity. He openly despises them, viewing them as weak and effeminate. His mindset reflects a toxic approach to gender roles and what he considers the traditional male archetype."

“White men aged 50-60 with survival skills make up about half the population here,” a policeman noted. “Take me, for example…”

Hotch began providing more detailed information, while Gideon stepped out of the center of the room, and the atmosphere became more relaxed.

You approached Reid, who was sitting in a chair, and ruffled his hair with your hand.

“Watch your back, genius-boy,” you warned, standing behind him. From his seat, he tilted his head all the way back to look up at you. A smile instantly appeared on his face.

“You might just be next. And we wouldn’t want that.”

“So, you think I’m effeminate?”

"I know very well that you're not. But you do have that intellectual spark in your eyes. And, you know, those glasses don’t help."

Ever since you’d been in Alaska, he’d worn them less often because, as he’d told you while chatting in bed, they kept fogging up. But now, they were perched on his nose, making him look... delectable. Simply delectable.

The rest of your team approached, Elle's gaze lingering on your hand resting on the back of Reid's chair. As usual, she had to notice everything.

"I need to send you all to a few places to check out some individuals the police have identified as matching the profile," Hotch announced. "Y/N and Elle, I’d like you to speak again with the bus driver who drove David Moore just before he was abducted. Once he understands the profile, he might be able to recall more details."

You lingered in the room, wanting to exchange a word with Spencer. In complete privacy... He was slowly wiping his glasses, as if hoping for the same. Watching the movements of his hands, you shook your head.

"This is it—what you asked me about yesterday. What makes me sexually frustrated. Our agreement still stands, right?" you asked, running your hand along his shoulder, just to touch him. Even though the many layers of clothing made it almost impossible to really feel him.

He looked at the glasses he was cleaning, then at you, disbelief written all over his face.

"That's what you meant? Cleaning glasses?"

"Don't judge me. It's about the motion. Or maybe the glasses themselves, I don't know. Maybe I’m a fetishist. Anyway, are you going to answer my question?"

Still seated in the chair, he had to tilt his head back to look at you, which reminded you—just a little, okay, a lot—of another situation where he was down below.

"What about you?" he countered. "You haven’t changed your mind?"

"Absolutely not."

"In that case, yes. It still stands."

“Oh, I don’t know what I’d do if you’d answered differently. See you tonight, then,” you promised, glancing around the room to make sure none of your team members were still there. Just a few local officers... who weren’t paying much attention to you. Even if they were, it wasn’t their business.

You leaned in quickly to kiss him. He closed his eyes, as if hoping for more.

“Not now, and not here. I need to go find Elle. Hotch gave us an assignment. Have a good one.”

You walked away, feeling his gaze on your back.

You found your friend in the car, one of those suited for tough terrain, with high tires. She was sitting behind the wheel, tapping her nails on it.

"So, what was the address of that driver?" you asked, fastening your seatbelt.

"Forgive my bluntness, darling, but I’ll die if I don’t know. What was that all about?"

"What do you mean, ‘What was that all about’?"

"Oh, come on, you know exactly what I mean. Messing with his hair, the chair, the looks. Are you two sleeping together again?"

You technically had no reason to hide anything from her, after all, you trusted her completely and had never hesitated to talk about your sex life. But this time... you kind of liked the idea of keeping whatever happened between you and Spencer just between the two of you.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. We're just acting like we usually do," you said.

"Yeah?" She raised an eyebrow, slowly pulling away from the police station, her gaze shifting between the road and you. "Then what were those sounds last night from his room?"

"Oh shit, did we make noise?"

She smiled triumphantly.

"I don't know, you tell me. I'm just teasing you. I'm on a completely different floor. But I'll take that as an admission of guilt."

"Manipulative bitch!"

"I'll take that as a compliment. So?"

You rolled your eyes with a heavy sigh, but eventually, you confirmed her suspicion with a nod.

"I thought you didn't sleep with the same guy twice."

"The air in Alaska really does something strange to me."

"Sure. The air," she scoffed, and you furrowed your brows in slight confusion, looking at her, waiting for her to elaborate. The car glided along one of those completely empty, snow-covered roads where there was nothing to focus on. "You know, I wonder why you just don't admit that you like him?"

"I don't hide the fact that I like him."

"Then why not give it a try?"

"Try what, Elle?"

She glanced at you sideways, her lips tightening at your obviously irritated tone. She didn't mean to upset you, of course, but that's how you felt. She sighed, as if thinking about how to approach the subject.

"You've learned to live with it," she finally began, slowly and cautiously weighing her words. "With that fear. Of intimacy and commitment."

"It's just a preference."

"No, it's not a preference. It's fear. You're afraid that if you get emotionally close to someone, you'll be abandoned, and you don't want to risk another painful loss. You want to have full control over the relationship and disappear when you feel like it's fading. Usually in the morning. It's a common mechanism, and it's not just about you. And no mechanism can be broken without making an attempt."

"Elle, stop. You're profiling me, and you know how much I hate that."

And actually, you hated being confronted with the truth about yourself and being internally forced to draw conclusions about yourself.

It was easy, living without reflecting on oneself. Especially when those reflections were painful. You could hurt yourself, unsuccessfully trying to confront them, or flow along with their current, completely subordinated to them and deaf to the words of others, who said you were only hurting yourself in the bigger picture.

 Elle dropped the subject, as you had arrived at the house of the man you were supposed to interview. She didn’t bring it up again afterward. The hours at work passed, and you only waited for that specific moment when you'd cross the threshold of that room again.

The previous night danced vividly in your mind, never slowing down or taking a break for a moment. As soon as he opened the door, you threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck, kissing his face, and unbuckling his belt.

Spencer took a sharp breath, shocked and amused, as soon as you touched him.

"It would be incredibly awkward if someone were at my place right now," he chuckled into your mouth, half of his sentence drowned out by your kiss.

You pulled your face away just slightly, raising your eyebrows. It was only then that you noticed he was wearing glasses. Oh, he was so completely unaware of what you were about to do to him...

"How many people do you bring to yourself every night?" you asked.

"In that regard, only you. Besides, this is only the second time, so I wouldn’t call it every night... but I could always be here with someone, talking..."

"Keeping each other warm," you added.

Your hands slid under the fabric of his clothes, brushing the lower part of his stomach.

He noticeably tensed under your fingers, swallowing slowly, impatient and pleading.

"Engaging in a worldview discussion and exchanging conclusions," he finished, a smile playing on his lips.

"Uh-huh. Exactly like we are now. Honestly, does that turn you on? Do you want me to share my political views while you’re eating me out?” 

"This is probably the only scenario in which you could make me not feel pleasure because of it."

His hands hesitated, roaming uncertainly across your body, unsure of where to start. They brushed over so many spots, moving from one to the next, chaotic and desperate. 

You didn’t know where to focus – on the lips in the hollow of your neck, on the hand on your hips, or the other, slipping lower and lower?

Or perhaps on that sound, right by your ear, sweet, pleading whimper?

Moan left your body just for that reason and you already knew how you wanted the rest of the night to unfold. 

You gently pushed him back, and with quickened breath, you dropped to one knee, then the other.

"After yesterday, I couldn't stop thinking about you," you confessed, making sure your lips were close enough to his body as you spoke. You heard him inhale sharply, whispering something under his breath. "I couldn't focus on work at all. So today, I want to take care of you, completely."

You thought he would be satisfied with the offer; well, it was hard to deny that he was. Still, for some reason, he started shaking his head.

"N-no, that's not... I want to do it. Take care of you, I mean."

You couldn’t stop smiling, but at the same time, you weren’t about to back down, which should probably be enough to describe the dynamics of the following hours. 

At times, it was brutally slow, while at other moments, it was hurried and impressive. Sometimes, you interrupted each other constantly, unable to stop talking, and at other times, the only sound filling the room was your two breaths, the only constant, restless, and laced with moans and cries.

"You’re not leaving me tonight, right?" he asked, drawing closer to your body and holding you almost pleadingly. You laughed against his skin, shaking your head in denial.

 "At some point, I will have to. For about fifteen minutes, before everyone wakes up."

 "You’ll say you just came by for something. To ask a question or something," he tried to convince you.

 "Oh, at this early hour, looking like I’ve just done a two-hour workout? Derek would eat us alive. His eyebrow would never drop again. If I ever end up in hell, it will be with him there, looking at me like that." You tried to mimic his expression, tensing your jaw as you did.

"Stop, I feel harassed."

"You see? And if he found out about us, this is how the next... God, I can’t even predict when he’d get tired of it. Maybe in a year. Do you want to suffer for another whole year just to be with me for an extra fifteen minutes?"

 "I’d be able to survive that," he declared quietly, placing his hand under your head and playing with your hair with one of his fingers. "But if you don’t want it, I’m not going to waste time and try to convince you."

"Sure," you scoffed playfully. "So many things could be done in that time."

"Like what?" he asked, clearly intrigued. "Try to sleep. What were you hoping for?"

"Nothing, nothing. But you used a plural in that sentence and then only gave one thing. So, I’m waiting for the rest."

"That’s an overinterpretation."

"More like a simple analysis of sentence structure."

"Maybe sometimes it's better to analyze a little less. Spencer."

 "I don’t think I’m capable of that," he admitted, his tone a little more serious. You furrowed your brow, looking at his pale face in the weak light, showing signs of the night’s exhaustion. "That’s just how my brain works. It doesn’t give me much time to rest."

You often wondered what the world looked like from his perspective. How, in many ways, his genius was both a revelation and a curse. But you’d never heard him complain about it—until now. In fact, it wasn’t even a complaint, just a statement of fact, somewhat melancholy.

You kissed the top of his head, hoping it would have a soothing effect.

And indeed, it worked. He moved even closer to you, rested his head, and after a moment, almost at the same time, your eyelids fell.

*

The morning passed slowly and longingly, even though you were still so close to each other. However, there was the awareness that with the arrival of the day, you would have to wait many, many hours before you saw each other again. In a similar way, you meant. After all, at work, you constantly spent time together, which only made everything more difficult. It would have been much easier to push him out of your head and focus, if it weren’t for that.

Meanwhile, Spencer, perhaps trying to gently play on your nerves, cleaned his glasses much more often than necessary. But there was also the possibility that he was doing it the same amount as usual, and you were just imagining it.

"Are you doing that again?" Morgan nodded in his direction as a greeting when you were sitting in the guesthouse room that served as your team's meeting place. There was a long table in there, similar to the one in your office, but much narrower. Sitting across from Reid, you could easily touch his hand. If you wanted to. "Is this some new nervous tic of yours? Polishing them?"

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," Spencer furrowed his brow in mock surprise, stopping the corner of his mouth from twitching. You kicked him under the table, and he couldn’t suppress a gasp.

To hide your amusement, you covered your face with your hand, but Morgan immediately picked up on it.

"Is this some new inside joke of yours?"

"He’s literally just polishing his glasses, leave him alone," you said.

Morgan’s eyebrows raised in the same way you had imitated him the night before. Neither of you could hold it in and burst into laughter.

"What’s going on?" JJ asked, walking into the room.

"Something very strange is going on," Derek announced mysteriously, staring at you both intently. His hands were resting on his hips, and his head tilted in thought. "Something very strange..."

Then Hotch arrived, even more serious than usual, which immediately dispelled the good mood. The rest of the team also arrived—Elle and Gideon—and everyone took their seats at the table.

"In the past few hours, there hasn’t been any concerning missing person reports," Hotch informed you. "On one hand, that’s good; on the other, it means the unsub will strike again soon. And we can’t let that happen."

"And you even have a plan," Gideon stated, with some sort of understanding in his eyes.

Hotch looked at you all with hesitation before nodding in confirmation.

"That's right, I have. I've concluded that we have no choice but to set a trap."

At those words, his gaze rested on Spencer, which was enough for you to figure it all out even before the main subject did.

"With all due respect, Hotch, have you lost your mind?!"

And how exactly do you envision this?" Elle asked, not as shaken as you but clearly concerned. "Sure, he fits the profile of his victims, but how is he supposed to set himself up? Walk around town and hope to get kidnapped?"

"At least two of the victims were abducted on the same stretch of road, after getting off the bus at the same isolated bus stop while walking home alone. It’s an exceptionally safe location for him," your boss explained.

"Honestly, I’m not convinced," Derek interjected, staring ahead with a furrowed brow. "I just don’t think he’d use the exact same spot again. Word has probably spread around the area that the FBI is on the case. He might be more cautious and change his methods."

"But he might just as well try again," JJ said quietly. You looked at her with clear surprise, as you had expected that, with her characteristic care for the team, she would be against the idea. "Right now, it’s the only thing we can do to try to prevent another abduction."

You drew a breath, understanding her arguments but remaining entirely opposed. Your gaze finally fell on Spencer, for the first time since the idea had even been brought up. He was sitting very upright, his brow furrowed, and he slowly began nodding.

"JJ’s right, it’s the only thing we can do," he said. He wasn’t looking at Hotch, nor even at the team as a whole—he was looking at you, directly and only at you. A calming, slightly nervous smile crossed his face, making you scoff. "Nothing’s going to happen to me. You’ll all be around, on the bus, near the stop."

With his words, the decision was made, and all you could do was shake your head in disbelief.

"I want to be on the same bus," you declared desperately, crossing your arms over your chest. You simply couldn’t reconcile with the fact that Spencer was willingly putting himself in harm's way—especially when the unsub's desire was to hurt people like him. "I’ll pose as a civilian. A random young woman. I shouldn’t seem like a threat, and someone from our team has to be inside."

"You’re right," Hotch replied, looking at you with sharp attention. "But it will be Elle."

You and your friend exchanged a confused look, startled by the firmness in his voice.

"I don’t think it makes much of a difference," she tried to intervene, which made you feel grateful.

Although, it didn’t change anything…

"I’m not obligated to explain myself to you about this decision, especially in front of the entire team. This is an order," Hotch announced with almost brutal professionalism. "The only thing I can say is that we need someone who won’t break character until the very end. Someone who won’t let emotions cloud their judgment."

"Are you sure you’re up for this?" Gideon asked, directing the question at Spencer. His tone was understanding, prepared to accept any refusal without judgment.

This time, he didn’t look at you. As Spencer nodded in confirmation, he actually avoided your gaze.

"Then we have the whole day to prepare for the sting. Let’s hope this leads to catching the unsub," Hotch concluded the meeting, signaling that you could leave the table.

You were torn between staying and screaming at your boss or leaving the room after Reid. Well, the second option wouldn’t get you fired. And, honestly, it seemed like the better choice. It turned out he wanted to talk to you too, as he was clearly waiting for you in the narrow hallway of the inn, where animal antlers hung on the walls and an informational board about moose was displayed.

"Are you angry because I want to do this?" he asked, the narrow walls around you making you stand quite close. Well, not as close as you could be, but close enough to add gravity to the conversation and allow you to study his face carefully.

Especially his determination. The determination for this job, for solving the case, and for preventing others from suffering the same tragic fate at the hands of this killer. Finally, you understood that your reaction was a bit irrational. Because if the victims were young women with your looks... you’d agree to it without hesitation. Some hypocrisy, huh?

"No. I'm just terrified that you're going to do this," you confessed, your honesty and concern making his face twitch in surprise. You snorted, trying to ease the tension. "I’m angry at Hotch for calling me emotionally unstable in front of all of you."

Spencer smiled gently, though there was stress hiding behind it. He may have been determined to go through with it, but that didn’t change the fact that there was fear accompanying him. He tried not to show it, but anyone in his position would feel it.

"Well, in his defense, he phrased it a bit more subtly."

You let out a soft laugh, stretching your arm out to gently touch his forearm. As your hand slid up, you leaned in a little, the simple gesture helping you feel more grounded and at ease.

His gaze followed your movements with a gentle satisfaction. You didn’t pull him closer, you were simply stroking his arm in that easy, caring way that calmed both of you.

"You’ve never done this before, have you?" you asked quietly. "You’ve never put yourself in this position like this."

He shook his head in denial.

"I’m really... really worried that I’ll do something wrong and we won’t be able to catch him because of me."

"You should worry about yourself, Spencer. Not about that. I’m sure you’ll play your part better than anyone could. "But I really regret that I won’t be able to be right next to you, in case something goes wrong."

His lips parted and closed in a kind of... amusement?

"I was going to say that maybe Hotch could be convinced, but then I realized, no, he won’t be. No matter what you say. And besides, having you there wouldn’t let me focus fully."

"I’m aware of that," you joked, tossing your hair dramatically. "After all, I look stunning."

"I was more referring to the fact that I’d be focused only on making sure nothing happens to you, but yeah. That’s one of the reasons too."

You fell silent, oddly moved by that confession. It was so simple, driven by care, affectionate. And it definitely made your head spin in the context of your relationship. You shook your head, pulling yourself away from those thoughts. As long as you were in Alaska, you could afford anything. After that, who knows.

You swallowed and put on a playful expression, it came with some effort, but you managed.

"Okay, genius-boy. Let me prepare you. You need to know how to behave."

"I thought I was just supposed to be myself," he noted, letting you pull him by the wrist.

"Well, mostly, yes. But it's still better to rehearse, get you into character. Don't you have any random fun facts to share?"

"I always have some fun facts to share. An endless amount."

"We'll see."

For the rest of the day, up until the inevitable moment of setting the trap for the unsub, you listened carefully to everything he had to say. His constant chatter allowed him to occupy his mind, pushing the stress aside to the point that, when it was time for him to head to the designated location, he seemed almost surprised that the hour had come. Only then did certain shadows begin to cross his face.

You paced restlessly around the inn as the whole team prepared. Your task was to take a position with Gideon at a certain distance from the bus stop, to cut off the unsub's escape route if necessary. The bus driver had agreed to cooperate, and JJ was giving him instructions, asking him to act as naturally as possible. There were to be no civilians on board, only Elle and a few inconspicuous local police officers. Hotch and JJ planned to follow the bus from a distance by car. Morgan was to lay low at the bus stop, also posing as a civilian.

You moved closer to Spencer, breathing heavily, his presence alone calming you down.

“You’ll be fine,” you reassured him just before you were about to leave. Morgan gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder, and everyone was still gathered around you. You gently hugged him, just as any other friend would, just like Elle and JJ had moments before.

He, on the other hand, wasn’t concerned with appearances. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and rested his chin on top of your head in a strong, lingering embrace.

“Y/N, you and Gideon need to go now," Hotch interrupted.

As you were walking away, you noticed out of the corner of your eye that he also gave Reid a brief squeeze on the shoulder.

It was a truly tense moment. You found yourself in a position where you had no visibility on what was happening inside the bus, nor could you gauge the gravity of the situation. All you could hear through the earpiece was Elle's whispered signal informing you that the suspect, fitting the profile, had just entered the vehicle.

And even though you didn’t have high hopes for the plan, everything unfolded exactly as it was meant to. Spencer exited the bus, and the unsub followed him. The suspect seemed intent on tracking him down that desolate, shadowy road, planning to attack and abduct him. But at the last moment, Reid turned, and before the man could react, he was surrounded by the police.

On your last night in Alaska, you found yourself on top, with his head resting against the headboard of the bed, his hands placed on your hips, and in a position where you could look at each other and talk.

"You really did great today," you praised, leaning in to gently kiss his collarbone.

He didn't seem flattered by your words, no smile on his lips, just that sad, aching expression that caused you pain. Wanting to shake off the feeling, you quickened your movements, hoping it would work, but then he tightened his embrace, making you slow down once again.

"I want... I want to enjoy you," he said with a slightly embarrassed tone, his fingers tracing restless, tender circles on your bare skin. "Since this is our last time together."

For a moment, he gazed at your face, as if hoping you would say something. But he couldn't find any trace in your expression that would suggest you had changed your mind. The small, naive spark in his eyes faded. Elle's words about breaking the cycle echoed in your mind, but not in your heart. You couldn't turn them into reality; you simply couldn't. The agreement remained the agreement.

Once you returned, everything would go back to how it was before.

another author's note: I plan to create a tag list and I want to know who among you would like to be on it. please, let me know in the comments.

[requiemforthepoets]

señor ginger 𖦹 CS55

PAIRINGS: carlos sainz x female!reader

SUMMARY: just you, carlos, your daughter gabriela, and her señor ginger.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: no use of y/n, named daughter, food (gingerbread cookies), typos, and few gramatical errors

WORD COUNT: 1.5k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: hiii. as you all know, i’m taking a break and been practicing to write in my own pace, but i can’t help but post something christmas related one shot! so this is the first one—a carlos one shot! also, i’m working on the my series as well, hoping that i get to finish and post a new part before 2025. i’ve been writing whenever i get ideas, but i’m taking my time as well so i can’t wait to post it soon. i’ve managed to write a few for lando, but i’m 50/50 about it lol. as for the requests, it will be vvvv slow but i’m working on it too. i hope you’ll enjoy this one!

The crisp Swiss air welcomed you as you strolled through the mall with Carlos, your fingers entwined with his. The polished floors reflected the warm glow of holiday lights, and soft carols played faintly in the background, adding to the cozy atmosphere. Ahead of you, Gabriela bounced with uncontainable energy, her little boots tapping against the tiles. Her curls bobbed with her movement, and every now and then she would turn to you both with a wide grin, her excitement evident in her sparkling eyes.

“Mamá! Papá! Look!” she exclaimed, pointing toward a quaint bakery adorned with festive decorations.

The window display showcased an array of intricately designed gingerbread men and tiny, colorful gingerbread houses, each one of them looking like they belonged in a fairytale. Without waiting for a response, Gabriela darted forward, her tiny hands pressed against the glass as she peered inside.

“Careful, cariño.” Carlos called out, voice laced with amusement and mild concern.

He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, and you exchanged a knowing smile before following her. When you reached her, Gabriela spun around to face you, her cheeks flushed from all the excitement.

“Mamá! Papá! Can we buy one? Please?” she pleaded, her wide eyes impossible to resist.

“Okay, which one do you want, solntse?” you asked softly. She pressed a finger to her lips, scrutinizing the display with all the seriousness of a child making the most important decision of her life.

“That one!” she declared finally, pointing to a gingerbread man decorated with a bright red scarf and tiny buttons. “He’s the prettiest!” Carlos chuckled, stepping forward to open the bakery door for the two of you.

“Prettiest? You mean handsomest, no?” he teased, ruffling Gabriela’s hair as she followed you inside.

“No, Papa!” Gabriela giggled, shaking her head. “He’s pretty! Look at his scarf!” she insisted, her tone firm as she held her ground.

The warmth of the bakery enveloped you, carrying the scent of cinnamon and freshly baked bread. A friendly staff member approached with a bright smile.

“What a lovely family,” they said, their eyes softening when they looked at Gabriela. “And what a gorgeous little girl!”

Gabriela beamed at the compliment, standing a little taller, face pressed on the glass counter, her breath fogging the glass slightly as she examined the colorful array of gingerbread men.

“I want the gingerbread man with the red scarf, please!” she said confidently, pointing at her chosen treat.

The staff member chuckled, carefully retrieving the gingerbread man and wrapping it in delicate parchment paper. “Good choice! He’s one of our favorites too. Do you like gingerbread, sweetheart?”

Gabriela nodded enthusiastically. “Uh huh! He’s my new friend!”

“Such a little sweetheart,” the staff member cooed, her eyes twinkling as she looked at Gabriela. “Enjoy your gingerbread man, sweetheart.”

“Thank you!” Gabriela chirped, voice bright as she accepted the bag with both hands. She then turned back to you and threw her arms around you, hugging you tightly. “Merci, Mamá! Merci, Papá!”

“Okay, you’re welcome mi amor.” Carlos replied warmly, brushing a stray hair from her forehead. He stood and handed his card to the staff member, who smiled and nodded as she completed the transaction.

“Have a wonderful day!” the staff called as you exited the bakery, Gabriela skipping happily ahead of you with her prized gingerbread man in hand.

Outside, Gabriela twirled in delight, singing a little song she had improvised on the spot. “Gingy is my friend, gingy is so sweet, he has a red scarf, and shiny little feet!”

You and Carlos exchanged glances, both of you barely suppressing laughter as her song grew more elaborate.

“She’s quite a songwriter.” you said, leaning into Carlos as you walked side by side again.

“She’s something else.” Carlos murmured, slipping his arm around your waist.

“Well, she definitely takes after you.” you teased, earning a playful nudge from him.

Gabriela spun back towards you, holding the gingerbread man up as if introducing him to you both. “His name is Señor Ginger! Isn’t he cute, Mamá?”

“He’s adorable,” you agreed, crouching down to admire the little cookie. “And I think he’s lucky to have you.”

Gabriela beamed before running back to Carlos. “Papá, do you like Señor Ginger?”

Carlos scooped her up effortlessly, holding her close as she giggled. “I think Señor Ginger is the luckiest gingerbread man in the world,” he said with a grin. “But you know what’s even better than gingerbread?”

“What is it, Papá?” Gabriela asked, eyes wide with curiosity.

He leaned closer, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “When Señor Ginger gets to meet a glass of milk.”

“Papá!” Gabriela’s laughter rang out again as she wrapped her arms around Carlos, her excitement bubbling over. “You’re very silly!”

Gabriela kept babbling about Señor Ginger with a mix of giggles and how he’s the best gingerbread man ever, her endless chatter filling up the air. Watching her with happiness, Carlos pressed a quick kiss to your temple.

“This is the best kind of day, no?” he murmured, eyes lingering on yours.

You smiled, your heart full. “It really is.”

Later that night, the dinner was peaceful. The soft hum of conversation between you and Carlos, and clinking of plates and silverware filling the air. Gabriela finished her meal faster than either of you, she pushed her plate away, and wiped her mouth with her napkin with a satisfied sigh, legs swinging beneath her chair. She then looked up at you with those wide, sparkling hazel eyes.

“Mamá,” she began sweetly, voice carrying a note of hope, “can I please eat my gingerbread man now?”

“Alright, but you have to be careful not to make a mess, okay?” you said as you stood up to retrieve the gingerbread man from the counter.

“Okay, Mamá!” Gabriela’s face lit up as she wriggled in her seat, eagerly waiting for her treat.

You returned with the carefully gingerbread man, sitting back down beside her as you carefully opened the festive packaging.

“Here you go,” you said as she squealed in delight, then the cookie on her plate, and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “Make sure you use your plate to catch the crumbs, so we don’t have any little ant trails later, alright?”

“Yes, Mamá. I promise!” she said, her tiny hands gently cradling the gingerbread man before taking her first excited bite.

You watched as she chewed happily, legs swinging under the table, and humming. Carlos leaned in, with his arms crossed on top of the table, his gaze fixed on Gabriela.

“Is it good, princesa?” he asked, voice soft and curious.

“Yes, Papá!” she nodded enthusiastically. “It’s a very yummy cookie!” Gabriela held up the gingerbread man proudly, but you couldn’t help noticing something.

“Solntse,” you said, trying to keep your voice light, “who are you eating?”

“My gingerbread man,” she said matter-of-factly, holding the cookie up for you to see. The head of the cookie was already missing, a clean bite taken out of it.

“Oh no! Señor Ginger!” you exclaimed dramatically, putting a hand over your mouth in mock surprise. “He doesn’t have a head anymore!”

Carlos, catching on to your game immediately, glanced at you with a knowing look, his lips twitching as he tried his best not to laugh. Gabriela looked down at her cookie, brows furrowing slightly as she began to process your words.

“Awe, bye bye Señor Ginger,” you continued, tone playful. “Señor Ginger doesn’t have his head anymore. Solntse, who ate Señor Ginger’s head?” you asked, voice filled with mock seriousness.

Gabriela’s lip began to tremble as she stared at the headless cookie in her hands. Her big, round hazel eyes started to glisten with unshed tears.

“Mamá…” she whispered, voice breaking. Carlos couldn’t hold back a quiet chuckle, shaking his head softly.

“Don’t cry, mi amor,” he said, leaning in closer to her. “It’s food, remember? Señor Ginger is supposed to be eaten.”

You leaned forward, voice gentle but teasing, asking her, “is the cookie good, solntse?”

She nodded slowly, lips still trembling as a tear slid down her cheek. Gabriela did not answer, she just bit into the cookie again, her small sniffles tugging at your heartstrings.

“Then why are you crying, mon chou?” you asked softly, reaching over to brush her cheek.

Gabriela didn’t respond, her eyes fixed on her plate as she took another careful bite, her little fingers clutching the gingerbread man tightly.

Carlos’ voice was soothing as he tried to comfort her. “Hey, it’s okay, mi amor. Señor Ginger is happy in your tummy now. He’ll give you lots of energy so you can play tomorrow, okay?” he wiped the tear mark stains on her cheeks. “No more crying, princesa.”

She sniffed again, glancing up at him with wide, watery eyes. Gabriela nodded, finally calming down enough to take another bite, though her pout remained.

“Can Mamá have a bite?” you asked as you leaned in, reaching a hand toward her plate.

“No!” she declared firmly as she pulled the cookie closer to her chest, eyes narrowing protectively.

Both you and Carlos burst into laughter, the sound echoing throughout the room and melting away Gabriela’s remaining tears.

“I guess Señor Ginger is all hers.” Carlos said, grinning at you as you shook your head in amusement.

[lila-lou]

✨Presents&Gingerbread✨

Summary: Ben has little interest in the season’s traditions but keeps up with the wrapping and decorations just to see you happy. Still, it didn’t take long for him to draw your attention away from the preparations, making it clear that you’re the only thing he cares about.

-Christmas Special-

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Language, Fluff

Word Count: 5893

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. ❤️

You could hear Ben’s frustrated grumbling from the bedroom, but you chose to ignore it for the time being, focusing on the dough in front of you. Baking wasn’t exactly your strong suit, but you figured gingerbread couldn’t be that hard. The dough stuck to your hands in a stubborn mess, and you sighed, wiping your forehead with the back of your wrist.

The smell of sugar and cinnamon wafted through the kitchen as the oven preheated, and you couldn’t help but smile at the thought of surprising Ben with the cookies, even if they turned out a bit misshapen.

From the bedroom, another curse echoed down the hall, followed by a loud thud. You stifled a laugh. "Everything okay in there?", you called, your voice teasing.

"Yeah, yeah, I got this", Ben replied, his tone sharp but with that underlying hint of amusement you had grown used to. He was stubborn, always determined to do things himself, even if it was something as simple as wrapping a present. But it was moments like this—him grumbling over a bit of tape and wrapping paper—that reminded you there was more to the Soldier Boy façade than he let on.

You brushed some flour off your hands, glancing toward the doorway. You could almost picture him in there, brow furrowed, jaw clenched, struggling with the wrapping paper as if it were some kind of enemy.

"You sure?", you teased again, pulling open the oven and sliding in the tray of misshapen gingerbread men.

A pause. Then, "I swear, if this doesn’t stay… You’ll get a box and nothing else. Hope you like fucking cardboard".

You chuckled, shaking your head. "I’ll take what I can get".

Seconds later, you heard another rip of wrapping paper, followed by a string of curses so creative you couldn’t help but stifle a laugh. It was clear things weren’t going any better for him. You wiped your hands on a dish towel, half tempted to go in and offer help, but you knew Ben well enough to know he’d refuse. He wasn’t the type to let anyone see him struggle—even with something as trivial as wrapping a present.

Instead, you leaned against the kitchen counter, waiting for the cookies to bake, and called out, "You know, it’s the thought that counts, not the presentation, right?".

"Presentation matters, dammit", Ben shot back, his voice slightly muffled but dripping with frustration. "What kind of guy gives his girl a mangled present? I can blow up tanks, but this… this paper is kicking my ass".

You bit your lip to keep from laughing out loud. The image of Soldier Boy—America's perfect warrior, fighting to the death with a roll of wrapping paper—was too much. "Pretty sure I’ll still love it", you replied, trying to sound reassuring.

"Yeah, well, I’m not pretty sure of anything right now", Ben muttered. You heard another tear, then the sound of tape being yanked furiously from the dispenser. "This shit's defective".

You finally gave in to curiosity, walking to the doorway of the bedroom and leaning against the frame. There he was, hunched over the bed, a mess of torn wrapping paper scattered around him, the box he was trying to wrap looking more like a battle casualty than a gift. His face was a picture of sheer frustration, a rare sight considering how confident and in control he always seemed.

"You good?", you asked, grinning.

He snapped his head up, narrowing his eyes at you. "Don’t say a fucking word".

You held up your hands in surrender, though your grin only widened. "Wouldn't dream of it".

Ben huffed, turning his attention back to the mangled mess of paper. "This is stupid. I don’t know why people bother with this shit".

Stepping into the room, you sat on the edge of the bed, watching him for a moment before saying softly, "You don’t have to do this, you know. I already know how much you care".

Ben paused, his fingers gripping the paper as he looked over at you. His expression softened just a fraction, the frustration easing from his shoulders. "Yeah, well, you deserve something nice", he muttered, glancing away as if embarrassed.

Your heart warmed at the sentiment. Without a word, you reached out, gently touching his arm. "This is nice, Ben", you said quietly. "All of it. You trying… It means a lot".

He sighed, dropping the tape. "I’m not good at this stupid shit".

"I think you’re doing just fine", you reassured him, leaning in and pressing a light kiss to his cheek.

Ben turned to face you fully, a rare smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "You’re just saying that because you like me".

You laughed softly. "Yeah, maybe I do".

You looked down at the “present”, if you could even call it that. It looked more like a ball of crumpled wrapping paper than anything resembling a gift, with tape sticking out at odd angles and creases everywhere. Yet, Ben placed a small red bow on top with an exaggerated flourish, looking—despite everything—a little bit proud. The fact that the paper had actually stuck this time and didn’t peel off again seemed like a victory in his book.

“There”, he said, handing you the half-ball of paper, “for the tree”.

You took it from him gently, doing your best to suppress a laugh. You gave him a soft smile, admiring the effort more than the execution. “It’s… definitely unique”.

Ben grinned, catching onto your amusement but not minding it. “It’s gonna stand out from all the other perfect presents you wrapped”, he said, motioning to the stack of neatly wrapped gifts under the tree, each one with straight corners and perfectly tied ribbons.

“I think it’ll fit right in”, you said.

Ben stood up, stretching his arms above his head and surveying the room. He glanced down at the floor, where scraps of shredded wrapping paper littered the carpet. With a sigh, he began gathering the mess into his hands. “I swear, next time, I’m just getting a bag”.

You chuckled, getting up to help him. “Next time, you could just ask for my help, you know”.

He gave you a sideways look. “Yeah, like that’s fucking happening”.

“You act like wrapping presents is some top-secret operation”.

Ben snorted, crumpling another piece of paper. “For me, it might as well be. Fighting’s easier”.

You smiled, watching him as he cleared the floor. For someone so used to being seen as a powerhouse—a legend even—these small moments of vulnerability were rare. And yet, here he was, standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by torn wrapping paper and Christmas lights, doing something as simple and human as trying to wrap a present for you.

Once the mess was cleaned up, he straightened, looking over at you. “You still baking those cookies?”.

“I’m trying”, you said with a laugh. “But they’re probably not turning out much better than your wrapping job”.

Ben shrugged, tossing the last ball of paper into the trash. “We’ll call it even, then. Cookies for my screwed-up present”.

You grinned. “Deal”.

The two of you walked out of the bedroom. Ben had a few crumpled bits of wrapping paper still in his hands as he made his way toward the trash can in the kitchen. You followed him with his “present” carefully balanced in your arms, the lumpy shape almost endearing in its awkwardness.

As you knelt down to place the gift under the Christmas tree, you took a step back to admire how it sat among the others, its irregular shape standing out, but in a way that made you smile even more. There was something perfect in its imperfection—like it held a little more heart than the perfectly wrapped boxes surrounding it.

Ben, meanwhile, was peering into the oven, his hands resting on his hips, inspecting the cookies with a critical gaze. “How long do these things usually take?”, he asked, squinting at the misshapen gingerbread men that were slowly starting to brown around the edges.

“Shouldn’t be much longer”, you said as you joined him by the stove, leaning slightly against the counter. The two of you stared through the glass window in silence for a moment, watching the cookies bake as the scent of cinnamon and ginger filled the kitchen.

Ben glanced at you from the corner of his eye. “They look a little… rough, don’t they?”.

You chuckled softly. “Well, I wasn’t exactly going for ‘perfect’, just edible”.

“Edible’s good enough”, Ben agreed, nodding like it was some grand compromise. He opened the oven just a crack, feeling the wave of warm air hit his face. “I’ve had worse, believe me”.

You raised an eyebrow, giving him a teasing grin. “Is that your way of saying you’ll actually eat one?”.

He shrugged, stepping back and letting the oven door click shut. “Hey, I’ve survived worse. They smell alright, so… why not?”.

You laughed softly, bumping your shoulder against his arm. “I’ll take that as a win”.

Ben leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms, watching you as you moved around the kitchen. The glow of the Christmas lights from the tree in the other room flickered softly, casting a warm hue over the space. You could feel his eyes on you, and when you looked up, he gave a small, almost shy smile.

“This whole Christmas thing”, he muttered, glancing away for a second before meeting your gaze again. “Why do you love it so much?”.

His question hung in the air for a moment, catching you off guard. You’d never really thought about why Christmas meant so much to you—it was just something you always enjoyed. The lights, the warmth, the smell of baked goods filling the house—it was a feeling, more than anything. But for Ben, who’d never really had a reason to celebrate it, you realized it probably didn’t make much sense.

You set the oven mitt down, leaning against the counter beside him. “I guess it’s not just one thing”, you said thoughtfully, your voice soft. “It’s about the little things—the warmth, the coziness, the way everything feels kind of… special, you know? It’s like the whole world slows down for a bit, and you can just focus on the people you care about”.

Ben raised an eyebrow, looking at you like he was trying to understand. “So, it’s not just about all the eating?”.

You laughed, shaking your head. “Well, that’s a part of it. I’ve seen how much you enjoy that part”.

He smirked, his gaze softening as he leaned a little closer. “You’ve been cooking up a storm these past few weeks. I’m not complaining or anything—it’s been pretty great”.

You smiled, remembering the countless batches of cookies, pies, and everything in between you’d made over the last few weeks. You’d thrown yourself into it, trying different recipes to make sure Christmas Eve dinner would be perfect. You wanted the apartment to feel like home, especially for Ben, who wasn’t used to this kind of thing.

“But it’s more than just the food”, you continued, your voice softening. “It’s about making the place feel like… like somewhere we can be ourselves, away from everything else. Somewhere safe”. You glanced at him, your gaze gentle. “I know it’s probably cheesy to you. But Christmas has always been about family, about togetherness, and even though things aren’t perfect, it’s a time to just appreciate what you’ve got”.

Ben’s expression shifted, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. He wasn’t used to that kind of sentiment. You knew that much about him. Christmas was just another day for most of his life—another day he didn’t have to care about. And yet here he was, going through all this “crap”, as he called it, for you.

“I guess I just never had that”, he admitted quietly, his voice almost a murmur. “Never really celebrated it. My father didn’t think much of it, and after that… well, it was just another day”.

You nodded, understanding what he wasn’t saying. His life had been far from ordinary, far from the kind of life where holidays held meaning. But the fact that he was doing this, trying to wrap presents, watching cookies bake, and standing in a cozy apartment surrounded by Christmas lights—for you—that meant more than he could ever know.

“Maybe that’s why it’s important to me”, you said, your voice gentle. “Because we get to create our own version of it. You and me. We get to decide what Christmas means, and it doesn’t have to be perfect”.

Ben glanced down at the floor, then back at you, his eyes searching yours. “Yeah, well, I’m doing all this crap for you, you know. The wrapping, the tree, the whole deal”. He scratched the back of his head, looking almost sheepish. “I still don’t get it, but if it makes you happy…”.

You smiled, your heart swelling at his words. “It does. But you being here with me, doing all of this… that’s what makes it special”.

For a moment, Ben didn’t say anything. He just stood there, looking at you, and you could see something shift in him—a softening, maybe even a realization. He stepped closer, pulling you into his arms again, his embrace warm and steady.

“Well, I guess I can live with that”, he muttered, his voice low but full of something unspoken, something that said more than the words ever could.

You wrapped your arms around him, resting your head against his chest. “Thank you, Ben. For trying. It means a lot”.

He huffed a small laugh, his chin resting on your head. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t expect me to sing any carols or whatever”.

You grinned up at him, still nestled comfortably in his arms. “No carols, huh?” you teased, playfully. “Not even Jingle Bells?”.

Ben rolled his eyes, his grip on you tightening just a little before he pulled back to look at you. “Don’t fucking push it. I’m doing enough with the whole ‘festive spirit’ thing”.

You opened your mouth to respond, but just then, the timer on your phone went off, the cheerful chime cutting through the cozy silence. The cookies.

You sighed, reluctantly stepping out of his embrace. “Hold that thought”, you said, giving him a wink as you grabbed the oven mitts and hurried to pull the tray of gingerbread cookies out of the oven. The warm, spiced aroma filled the room, and despite how unsure you were about how they’d turn out, you felt a little wave of excitement.

Ben leaned against the counter again, watching you with a mix of amusement and curiosity. “Let’s see these masterpieces”, he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

You pulled the tray out, setting it down on the stove and looking over the cookies. They weren’t exactly bakery-level quality—some were a little darker around the edges, a few misshapen—but all in all, they weren’t half bad.

“Well”, you said, eyeing them critically, “they’re edible”.

Ben snorted, stepping closer to inspect them. “Not bad, actually”, he said, grabbing one without hesitation. He blew on it briefly before taking a bite, chewing thoughtfully. “Crunchy, but I’ve eaten worse”.

You laughed, grabbing a cookie yourself. “I’ll take that as a glowing review”.

Ben leaned back against the counter, finishing the cookie in a couple more bites. “You should”, he said with a grin, wiping his hand on his jeans. “I don’t hand out compliments for free”.

“Of course not”, you replied, your voice teasing as you took a bite of your own cookie. You couldn’t help but feel a little proud of how they turned out, considering all the experimenting you’d done over the last few weeks.

“Alright”, Ben mumbled under his breath, his voice low and filled with something mischievous. Before you could even react, his strong hands found their way to your hips, gripping you firmly and pulling you against him in one swift, fluid motion. The sudden movement caught you completely off guard, and your half-eaten cookie slipped from your fingers, falling to the floor with a soft thud.

“Ben!”, you squeaked in surprise, but he was already moving, effortlessly lifting you onto his hips as if you weighed nothing. His grip was strong and sure, and his eyes glinted with a mix of playful intent as he began walking toward the bedroom.

You instinctively wrapped your arms around his shoulders, your laughter bubbling up despite the suddenness of it all. “What are you doing?”, you asked, though you already had an idea. Your heart raced as he carried you with ease, each step confident and determined.

Ben didn’t answer right away, just gave you a smirk. “No more baking for tonight”, he said, his voice low and teasing as he made his way toward the bedroom door. “You’ve been fussing over cookies and Christmas stuff for weeks. Time for a different kind of fun”.

You couldn’t help but laugh, your earlier thoughts of the cookies and Christmas decorations fading quickly. The warmth of the room, the soft glow of the lights filtering through the hall, and the way Ben held you with such ease—it was all enough to make your pulse quicken.

As he pushed open the door to your bedroom with his shoulder, you felt a shiver of excitement run down your spine. He stepped inside, kicking the door shut behind him.

Ben kicked the door shut behind him with a controlled force, and the soft click echoed through the room. You could feel the tension in the air shift as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your neck. His hands, still firmly gripping your hips, slid up your waist with deliberate slowness, teasing but firm, the touch sending a shiver down your spine.

“You’ve been working so hard on that stupid Christmas cheer”, he murmured, his voice low, almost a growl, as he leaned in close to your ear. “But I think it’s time you relaxed a little”.

His lips brushed against your skin, so close yet barely making contact, and you couldn’t help the soft, involuntary gasp that escaped your lips. His smirk deepened, clearly pleased with your reaction. He always knew exactly how to get under your skin, how to tease you in just the right way, making your heart race and your thoughts scatter.

“You’re always fussing about something”, he teased, his voice a husky whisper as he hovered over you, “whether it’s wrapping presents or baking cookies. I think it’s my turn to get a little of your attention”.

You tried to play it cool, even though your pulse was quickening. “Oh? And what makes you think you deserve my attention?”.

Ben let out a low chuckle, his fingers trailing up your side, sending a rush of heat through you. “Because”, he murmured, his lips ghosting over the curve of your neck, “I’m not the kind of guy who fucking waits around for permission”.

His words were playful, but there was an edge of truth behind them—Ben never did things halfway, and he never shied away from taking what he wanted. And right now, he wanted you.

You felt his grip tighten ever so slightly as he shifted, pressing you back against the bed with a fluid motion. His eyes met yours, full of heat and mischief.

In one swift motion, he pushed you down gently but assertively, his weight following as he climbed on top of you. The heat between you was palpable, and the teasing smirk on his lips never wavered as he leaned down, his mouth tracing a slow, tantalizing line from the base of your neck down toward your collarbone.

His lips pressed soft, lingering kisses against your skin, each touch sending jolts of warmth coursing through you. You could feel the faint scrape of his stubble as his kisses became more deliberate, more hungry. Ben's hands moved with practiced ease, already starting to undo the buttons of your shirt, each one coming undone with a deliberate flick of his fingers.

"You’re not getting away that easy", he murmured against your skin, his breath hot against your collarbone as he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with intent.

Before you could respond, his mouth returned to your skin, this time pressing more insistently, his lips and tongue tracing slow patterns over the exposed part of your chest. He was already halfway down the buttons of your shirt, exposing more of your skin with each passing second. You felt your pulse quicken, your breath catching in your throat as his kisses moved lower.

Ben’s hands slid beneath the fabric of your shirt, rough and warm as they caressed your sides, his touch firm and possessive. His movements were slow, deliberate, as if he wanted to take his time unraveling you. He lifted his head for a moment, meeting your eyes with that same mischievous smirk, his voice a husky murmur as he whispered, "See? Told you I don’t need permission".

His confidence, his dominance—it was magnetic. You could feel your body responding to him, arching toward his touch as he lowered his mouth again, trailing hot kisses down your chest, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. Every touch, every kiss, felt like it was claiming you, making you his, just as he had promised.

His lips ghosted over the skin of your stomach, soft and teasing, the warmth of his breath heightening the sensation. His hands moved in sync with his mouth, sliding down your sides until they found the waistband of your jeans.

With a deft motion, he hooked his fingers around both your jeans and panties, pausing only for a moment to glance up at you, his smirk widening as he saw the look on your face. Without breaking eye contact, he began to pull them down, the fabric sliding against your skin in one smooth motion. The cool air met your heated skin as he peeled them away, tossing them aside with a casual flick of his wrist, as if discarding anything that stood between him and what he wanted.

For a moment, Ben lingered, his eyes roaming over your body with an intensity that sent a fresh wave of heat through you. His hands moved to your thighs, gripping them firmly, his thumbs brushing over the soft skin as he spread you slightly beneath him, positioning himself closer. His gaze was dark, filled with hunger and something primal, and it made your pulse race.

He lowered his head again, this time pressing a kiss just above your hip, then moving lower, his breath hot against your skin.

"You taste even better than I remember", he murmured against your skin, his voice rough and laced with desire, his lips hovering dangerously close to where you wanted him most.

Ben’s mouth finally met you where you ached for him most, his lips brushing lightly against your skin. His kisses were tender at first, exploratory, as if he was savoring each reaction he drew from you. But it was when his tongue made contact that the sensation became more intense.

His tongue traced a slow, deliberate path along the sensitive folds of your body, moving with a deliberate, teasing rhythm. The tip of his tongue explored gently, pausing at the most sensitive spots, before moving in soft, circular motions. His touch was warm and wet, the sensation both electrifying and soothing as he took his time to learn your body’s reactions.

Ben’s movements were calculated, his tongue pressing against you with a gentle but insistent pressure. He alternated between slow, languid strokes and slightly quicker, more focused flicks, each movement aimed at heightening your pleasure.

As you were lost in the rhythmic play of Ben’s tongue, his technique shifted suddenly without warning. He enveloped your clit with a firm suction, his lips tightly sealed around it as he applied a concentrated pressure that made your back arch and a sharp gasp escape your lips. The sudden intensity of the sensation, combined with a gentle, teasing bite that was just enough to send a shockwave of pleasure through your body, contrasted starkly with the gentle lapping that had preceded it.

This sudden change amplified the sensations flooding through you, drawing a fine line between pleasure and the thrilling edge of too much. Ben seemed to sense this razor-thin boundary and expertly walked you along it. He eased the pressure just slightly when it seemed overwhelming, then built it back up, pushing you closer and closer to the brink.

As he continued, his hands found their way to your hips, holding you firmly in place. This firm grip ensured that you felt the full range of his movements—every suck, every bite—while also grounding you, holding you steady.

The intensity of Ben’s actions, combined with the overwhelming sensations coursing through you, made you lose control. As you cried out his name, your hands gripped his hair tightly, pulling him closer as if you were trying to fuse him to you. The force of your tug was unintentional but fervent, driven by the powerful waves of pleasure crashing over you.

Ben’s reaction was immediate—he responded to your urgent touch by increasing the intensity of his efforts. His tongue worked with renewed fervor, the suction on your clit growing more insistent, while his lips and teeth continued.

As the waves of pleasure grew more intense, your cries became more urgent, blending with the sounds of his determined efforts.

As you lay there, your chest rising and falling in the aftermath of the intense release, you slowly began to catch your breath. The room felt warmer, the air thick. Ben pushed himself back up from his position, his movements slow, savoring the moment. He wiped the remnants of your pleasure from his mouth with the back of his wrist, his smirk already in place as he locked eyes with you.

There was a look in his eyes, one of pride and satisfaction, but also that unmistakable mischief you’d come to recognize. He knew exactly what he had just done to you, how completely he had unraveled you, and how only he had the power to make you lose yourself like this.

His smirk deepened as he leaned over you, bracing himself on his forearms, his face hovering inches above yours. "Looks like I’ve still got it", he teased, his voice low and rough, a playful challenge hidden in his words.

You could still feel the aftershocks of your climax humming through your body, your limbs weak and trembling slightly from the intensity. His gaze stayed fixed on yours, that knowing glint never fading as he took in the way you were still recovering, your body warm and flushed under him.

"Only I can make you come like that, huh?", Ben’s voice was a husky murmur, full of that trademark confidence. He leaned in even closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "I think I’m gonna enjoy making you lose control again".

You shivered, not from the cold, but from the way his voice seemed to vibrate through you, reigniting a flicker of desire even though you were still coming down from the high he’d just given you.

As he pulled back just enough to look at you again. "Ready for round two?", he asked, his tone equal parts teasing and genuine challenge, knowing full well that you weren’t done yet.

You chuckled softly, still catching your breath, not entirely sure if you were ready for what Ben had in mind. "I don’t know if I—", Before you could even finish your sentence, Ben was already moving, his hands quick and sure as he undid his belt with practiced ease. The clinking sound of metal filled the air as his jeans slipped halfway down his thighs.

He didn’t wait for you to gather your thoughts or prepare yourself. In one swift, commanding motion, he pushed inside you, filling you completely without warning. The sudden stretch was overwhelming, and you gasped, your fingers instinctively gripping the sheets beneath you as your body tried to adjust to the sudden, intense intrusion.

Ben groaned low in his throat, his voice gravelly with satisfaction as he felt how tight you were around him, his hands gripping your hips with a possessive force. "Fuck baby", he muttered, his head falling forward as he closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the sensation of being buried deep inside you. He loved the way your body clenched around him, as if you were made just for him, and the way you reacted—your gasps, your body arching beneath him—only fueled his desire.

The initial shock of his sudden entry faded into a wave of pleasure, and your body responded instinctively, hips lifting to meet his as you adjusted to the fullness. Ben wasted no time, his movements sure as he began to thrust into you. Every stroke was deep, purposeful, each one sending a shock of pleasure through you, the force of his hips driving you into the mattress.

"You feel so good", he growled, his hands tightening their grip on you as he thrust harder, loving the way you trembled beneath him. There was a primal satisfaction in the way your body responded to him, how tight and warm you felt around him, and he couldn’t get enough of it.

Each thrust came harder than the last, his pace relentless, as if he was determined to claim you all over again, and you could barely catch your breath. The intensity of it all—his strength, his speed, the sheer power behind every movement—left you teetering on the edge of another climax, the pressure building inside you rapidly.

Ben leaned down, his breath hot against your ear as he murmured, "You’re mine". And in that moment, it was clear—he wasn’t going to let you catch your breath, wasn’t going to give you a second to recover. He was going to take you, completely and utterly, until there was nothing left but him.

And the way he moved, the way he knew your body so well—it left you no doubt that you were his.

About an hour later, the two of you sat on the couch, freshly showered and wrapped in the warmth of cozy sweatpants and hoodies. The energy between you had shifted, from the heated intensity of earlier to a comforting calm. The soft glow of the Christmas lights flickered in the corner of the room, casting a warm, peaceful ambiance over everything.

You scrolled through the list of movies, trying to decide which one would set the perfect tone for the evening. Ben, however, seemed completely uninterested in the selection process. He was too busy munching on the gingerbread cookies you had baked, his free hand absently brushing over your arm as he held you close against his side. The light pressure of his fingers against your skin was soothing, his casual affection a stark contrast to the earlier moments of intensity.

“You sure you don’t care what we watch?”, you asked, glancing up at him, though you already knew the answer.

Ben barely looked up from his cookie, grinning around the bite he had just taken. “As long as I have these”, he mumbled, gesturing toward the plate of cookies on the coffee table, “I’m good with whatever”. His words were muffled, but the lazy contentment in his tone was unmistakable.

You laughed softly, shaking your head as you settled more comfortably against him. His arm tightened around you slightly, pulling you closer, and you rested your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing. It felt good—safe—to be here like this, wrapped in the warmth of his embrace, with no urgency, no rush, just the quiet, cozy moment the two of you were sharing.

“Fine”, you said, picking a random holiday movie and hitting play. You weren’t really focused on the screen either. It wasn’t about the movie; it was about this—being here with Ben, comfortable and relaxed.

Ben’s hand moved to your hair, his fingers lazily combing through the strands, the simple gesture making you melt further into him. He shifted slightly, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, his lips lingering there for a moment longer than necessary. His touch was gentle, almost tender, as if he was savoring the quiet closeness between you.

“This”, he mumbled, his voice low and warm against your skin, “this right here is my favorite part of all this Christmas shit”.

You chuckled quietly, tilting your head slightly to look up at him. “Even more than the cookies?”.

Ben’s lips quirked into a lazy grin as he glanced down at you, his hand still resting on your arm. “Even more than the cookies”, he admitted, his voice softer now. “Though I won’t say no to another batch”.

You laughed, feeling the warmth of his affection settle deeper within you. It was rare for Ben to open up like this, even in small ways, but when he did, it meant everything. His affection was subtle, woven into small gestures like the way he held you close or kissed your temple—never needing grand declarations, because moments like these said it all.

Grinning softly, you leaned up just enough to whisper, "I love you".

The words came out gently, but with all the weight of truth behind them. It wasn’t the first time you’d said it, but somehow, in this quiet moment with the glow of the Christmas lights flickering in the background, it felt different—deeper, more meaningful. You could see the way the words affected him, even if he didn’t say anything right away. His eyes softened even further, the usual cockiness in his expression replaced with something that looked a lot like love.

Ben didn’t reply immediately, but the way his arm tightened around you, pulling you closer into him, said everything you needed to hear. He lowered his head, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead, his lips warm against your skin. His breath was steady, and you could feel the slight hitch in it, the way your words had touched him even if he wasn’t going to let it show completely.

"Yeah", he murmured softly, his voice barely a whisper. "Love you too".

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

-

Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @perpetualabsurdity @pughsexual @berryblues46 @deanwinchestersgirl8734 @kr804573 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @barnes70stark @roseblue373

[mrsriddlenott]

12 Days Of SmutMas

18+ Only!! My first Fic Event!!!!!

I am literally so excited to do this bc I wanted to do an October/Halloween event but didn’t have the time so I hope you guys are excited with meee!!!!

These fics will start coming out on the 5th and 6th, (I’m giving the first 4 days to see what requests I get), then every other day until Christmas Eve with the last one coming out on Christmas Day👏👏

[Requests Closed]

1. First Christmas ~ James Potter 12/5/23

Summary: You and James have your first Christmas in your new flat together. You two have fun buying new decorations and deciding where they’ll go while getting distracted in every room you put them in.

2. Christmas Movie Marathon ~ JJ Maybank 12/6/23

Summary: You, JJ, and the Pogues spend Christmas together in the chateau watching all your favorite holiday movies, until your mischievous boyfriend gets bored and wants to distract you as well.

3. Family Christmas ~ [closed] Theodore Nott & Mattheo Riddle 12/8/23

Summary: Theo brings you and Mattheo to his family’s Christmas dinner for the first time making you a nervous wreck, desperate to make a good impression. The boys notices your anxiety and decide to help you with your nerves in Theo’s bathroom before you eat with his family.

4. Santa Clause Is Coming To Town ~ Klaus Mikaelson 12/10/23

Summary: When Klaus mysteriously returns from New Orleans, the Mystic Falls gang worries about what he’s planning, though his only plan is to convince you to join him for Christmas in The Big Easy, by any means necessary. Starting with lavish gifts, attention, and affections, and ending with his mouth wherever you wish it.

5. Decorate With Me ~ [closed] Mattheo Riddle 12/12/23

Summary: Alpha!Mattheo is too lazy to decorate the house for the holiday’s, thinking it useless, you however entice him to decorate one thing at a time as you strip for him, teasing him and escaping his grasp until all that’s left to do is place the ornaments on the tree, leaving him to decorate you.

6. Secret Santa ~ bsf!Sirius Black 12/14/23

Summary: Sirius gets your name for Secret Santa and decides to prank you by having you open a dildo in front of all your friends. However, he’s shocked and flustered when you jokingly say you’re grateful and you’ll need it since your sex life is stale. In private, Sirius tells you he’d like to change that.

7. Stocking Stuffers ~ [closed] Mattheo Riddle & Theodore Nott 12/16/23

Summary: Insanely horny Mattheo and Theo help you decorate for Christmas in your cute holiday themed outfit and hear you refer to putting gifts in their stocking as needing to stuff their stockings, and can’t help but get distracted by the idea of stuffing your stickings with a gift too.

8. Scrooge ~ Rafe Cameron 12/18/23

Summary: Rafe never had much Christmas spirit, luckily his girlfriend absolutely had enough for both of them. Conflicts ensue as you attempt to get him festive, and when he wakes up in a sour mood on Christmas of all days, you’re not having it, giving him a Christmas gift from under the sheets that makes him the most jolly mother fucker in Tanneyhill.

9. You Ruined The Surprise ~ [closed] Anakin Skywalker 12/20/23

Summary: Emperor!Anakin walks in on you wrapping his gifts on Christmas Eve, making you fear the holiday to be ruined, but he reminds you he still gets to wait and unwrap his favorite gift under the tree, you. Leading to a long night of teasing until he can finally unwrap his gift in the morning.

10. Office Party ~ boss!Bucky Barnes x Reader 12/22/23

Summary: Your job’s annual Christmas party is approaching and for the first time since your recent divorce, you will be without a date. Unbeknownst to you your boss and mentor will be facing the same issue, leading to an unforeseen Christmas gift with many consequences.

11. Gingerbread Men ~ [closed] Lorenzo Berkshire 12/24/23

Summary: Dark!Enzo happily helps you decorate your Christmas cookies, laughing as you decorate gingerbread men to look like each other to eat. Enzo jokes that your homemade cookie tastes amazing but no where near as good as the real you, leading to kitchen shenanigans.

12. Christmas In Bed ~ 🎄🎁 12/25/23

Your Last Gift Will Be Opened On Christmas Day☺️😁

Please send Character Requests from any universe 👇below👇 for any of the prompts that are free. I am better at writing m&f smut but I am entirely welcome to any other pairing if I think I’m capable of writing it, poly couples are welcome!!

- HP Universe (any era, fanon&canon characters)

- TVD Universe (any of the 3 series’ characters)

- TWD Universe (main&FTWD characters pref.)

- Outer Banks

- The Umbrella Academy

- Star Wars (main&prequel trilogy pref.)

- Teen Wolf

- Stranger Things (will not write for the main kids)

- Supernatural

- MCU

Requests for this event are open until all free prompts are filled. Please include what relationship the character will have with the reader and the number of the prompt you want them to fill!!

- My Relationship/Smut Request Guidelines -

✅Best Friend x Reader

✅Bsf’s Sibling & Sibling’s Bsf x Reader

✅Friends W/ Benefits

✅New Step Sibling x Reader

✅Teacher/Professor x 18+ Reader

✅Alpha x Omega

✅Dominant x Submissive (hard&soft smut, I’m not good at writing Dom reader but I will try)

✅Power Imbalance (examples: boss,leader,blackmail,corruption kink, etc.)

✅Dark!Character x Reader (examples: obsessed,possessive,criminal, etc.)

❌Real Ince$t

❌Be$tiality

❌Minor x Adult

❌Non/Dub Consent

❌Cheating on or with Reader

~~~~

Taglist (lmk if u want on or off, my main taglist rn is just my HP taglist tbh)

@timmytime17 @talia-scar123 @spencer-reids-wife @ttsbaby01 @animorose @whydoireadanymore @thievin-stealing @spiderman-stilinski @evycloudberry @shady-the-simp @ashisabitgay @porterport @callsignwidow @cicicicicisstuff @mattheoriddleswifee @junebugin-july @moonlightreader649 @devotedlyshadowytheorist @rubyliquor @perverteddsdreams @mildly-delulu @fairydimples07 @shadowmoonlight0604 @80scinemvasworld @nevillescomslut @annaisabookworm @abaker74 @athenalikethegoddess @limeren @h-------n @kezibear @mattheoriddlemarcuslopez @lovemelikecrazyiloveyoucrazy @curiousshifter101 @tobyr68 @spididerman @hedwigprewett12 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @kiwi475

[b00tyliciousbabe]

gingerbread

himbo bf x male reader

summary: spending time with your boyfriend and his family for the holidays. some fluff, lil angst, bad jokes (i apologise in advance), and minimal smut of course.

notes: merry chrysler! hope y’all pretty people are doing amazing. notoriously indecisive in true bootylicious fashion, i settled on one of my fave typa men - gentle giant himbos. think danny wheeler from baby daddy. now, i would never call my men dumb, but always be saying real stupid things. there’s a specific kind of wonder that you can see in their eyes…i’m whipped.

disclaimer: i also tried to keep it as open to as many tastes as possible, so a lot of who he is, you can do create yourself. but i had to make him a bit of a redhead, they too fine.

y’all better gass me because the way i wrote this 3 hours before the end of xmas day, enjoy babies <3

saved in his phone as gingerbread - he’s a ginger, and you get bred xx

you always loved spending time with your boyfriend’s family, almost as much as they loved you. his mother was the first to catch Y/N fever, mostly because you reminded her of herself and it was a relief to know that someone could handle her son’s antics . then it was his brothers, they loved how mellow you made him, as if all of his struggles melted away when you waltzed into his life. they felt like your guardians, wanting to protect you because they knew how much you meant to their baby brother. and his sisters…they’re lowkey your best friends. when you first met, y’all got on so well with one another bonding over fashion, pop culture, and weirdly philosophy.

his dad liked you as a person, believing you were a kind soul, but not the person for his son, because of how different you two were. they were a quiet luxury kinda family, which didn’t necessarily coincide with how connected you were with celebrities. this was until he saw how well you worked together. whilst working on a huge project for the family business, your boyfriend was stressed in the office. you walked in, ready to go on a date after he’d finished. ‘hey baby, you look hot, where you going?’ he’d forgotten, but you never held it against him. you loved to see the cogs turn in his head as he came to a realisation. ‘shit. it’s date night.’ he groaned head in hands. ‘I’m so sorry Y/N, work’s just been so busy, the clients wanted to move the order forward, the contractors needed more data on the financial markets, and…’ you sat down on his desk, holding his chin so you guys exchanged eye contact. ‘babe, it’s all good, i know it’s a really busy time for you.’ you stroked his face reassuringly, a sigh of relief emitted from his lips. ‘i ain’t leaving your side, we’re in this together,’ you said as you went in for a kiss. it was deep and sensual, and if you didn’t stop when you did, you would’ve left that room walking side to side. ‘so, what can i help with?’ you responded, looking at the documents on the desk. he stared up lovingly, ‘i don’t deserve you,’ he admitted ‘too good to me.’ which garnered a little chuckle from you. his dad saw how supportive you were, pulling an all-nighter for the benefit of your man. you were so tired that the two of you spooned on the couch in his office, and slept there. early the next morning, the two of you were met with a breakfast course on the coffee table and your respective starbucks orders. you kissed your bf goodbye, so he could work, and just as you were about to leave, his father stopped you. ‘good morning Y/N, did you enjoy the food?’ he questioned as you entered the elevator together. ‘it was lovely sir, thank you.’ you replied hesitantly. ‘the only thanks due is to you, i appreciate how you’re always there for my son.’ you smiled inside, longing to prove yourself to him. ‘I love him sir, he needs to know that any problem he has, automatically becomes our problem to solve together.’ he knew at that moment, you were the perfect fit.

one of the core memories of your relationship was the weekend in the alps. your boyfriend thought this would’ve been the perfect opportunity to have some alone time with you before the new year. with award season coming up, many celebrities needed to be styled, you legit had no time to see him, it was going to be amazing. you stayed in the chalet his parents owned, but neither of you knew that it’d be an entire sibling getaway. the two of you snuggled under the blankets, drinking hot chocolate, whilst listening to some quiet smooth jazz in the background. revelling in how cozy and warm it was, he was dozing off whilst cuddling and you decided to follow suit, but not before a quick kiss on your bf’s nose - he’s so cute. unfortunately, like most precious things, this didn’t last long. there was a huge clatter at the door, awakening you two. ‘what the fuck are you guys doing here?’ your man blasted at them. ‘oh hey lil bro,’ one of them said as the others made themselves feel at home. ‘we heard you lovebirds were here and wanted to see Y/N again, we missed him.’ they all waved at you. you blushed and immediately got up greet them all with hugs and squeals. ‘omds, i haven’t see you guys in ages, we have so much to catch up on.’ you blurted out in an excited frenzy. your love, on the other hand, didn’t share the same energy. whilst you had walked to his sisters, his brothers playfully punched your bf to cheer up. ‘you idiots, have the worst timing, he said as they got ready to get some wood for the chimney.

it was just you and the girls, as you gossiped about the drama that went down during fashion week as they ate up every word. you mostly had done a lot of listening to their relationship dramas and work lives, as you shared a couple giggles. you has made gingerbread men, as his sisters watched the master at work. ‘Y/N, these are delicious, how are you so good at everything?’ they praised which made you blush. the boys had returned, with your man wincing with pain as his brothers carried him in. ‘the dummy tripped on the snow’ they said snickering as you walked to help him. ‘how many times have i told you to be careful out there?’ you said, concerningly staring at the bruise on his hip. you touched it gently earning a wince from him as he pushed away your hand. ‘sorry babe.’ he stared dead in your eye and looked away, giving you the silent treatment. ‘what do you need?’ he continued airing. ‘i’m gonna get some bandages’ you said, unsure of what you did to hurt him emotionally.

‘the fuck is wrong with you?’ his sisters protested, thumping his head. ‘ow! what do you mean?’ ‘that boy loves you, so much so that he puts up with all of your shit and stupidity.’ they come to your defence. he looks to his brothers for help, but to no avail. ‘dude, I’ll be real, you fucked up.’ one says. ‘he was just trying to help’ another adds. like the youngest, he continues to deflect ‘well, if you guys hadn’t come, i wouldn’t have gotten hurt, and me and Y/N would have been happier. he finally admitted. ‘oh damn.’ their faces became gentler as they circled in on him. ‘I just never get to see him now, with work and everything, and i don’t want him to get used to not seeing me’ he started to get teary but hid it behind a scowl. ‘bro, you are meant to be with Y/N, i see it in your eyes every time he walks into a room, like he’s the only one there.’ your bf smiles at the mere thought of your face. ‘see, he ain’t even here and you’re cheesing so bad rn.’ they all laugh. ‘i don’t know how to tell him, he’s so good at communicating his feelings, i just, i just can’t do it the way he does.’ his heart begins to beat faster. ‘that’s the thing though, he knows you better than you know yourself.’ the eldest brother says ‘there’s nothing that he won’t be able to understand because the two of are so connected.’

you enter with the bandages and medical supplies. ‘here’s a chance to fix that’ his twin sister says as they leave and move to the other side of the mansion, locking the door behind them as they wave you bye for now. you sit beside him on the sofa, placing a hot compress on his bruise. ‘Y/N, we need to talk.’ you decided to give him a taste of his own medicine by being stand-offish ‘speak then.’ you say glaring into his eyes that made you melt every time but now. ‘i am so sorry for my rude behaviour, i know you were just tryna help my stubborn ass.’ you continued tending to his wounds, with an apathy rivalled only by the unconditional love you have for him. ‘whatever.’ you muttered. ‘aw, come on baby, don’t be like that.’ he grimaced. ‘like what,’ your voice growing in confidence ‘like someone who, as hard as they try, can never get their boyfriend to fully open up?’ you admitted. ‘you know that’s not the whole story.’ he looks down. ‘mkay’ you say, tired of arguin, he just needed to cool off. he takes a deep breath. ‘Y/N, you know i love you more than anything ’ your boyfriend boldly states, deepening your eye contact. ‘and you know i love you the same, but sometimes love is not enough,’ you struggle to get the words out, getting choked up as you hold his cheek for stability. he turns to kiss you, it’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. he caresses your thigh, as your tongues dance for dominance in the warmth of your mouth. you pulled back. ‘here goes nothing, babe, I’m afraid, afraid of losing you.’ he admitted desperately. ‘we barely ever see each other and I’m scared that it has, um, like, maybe, um’ he failed to articulate his thoughts, angering him further. ‘calm down love, i hear what you’re saying. you’re worried about the possibility of us being comfortable with rarely seeing one another and what that means for us.’ you always knew how to soothe his heart. ‘exactly, you’re just so good at letting me know what we need to do to make this relationship work that I’m clueless at asking for help.’ he smiled earning a chuckle from you. ‘we’re in this together boo, you won’t ever lose me.’ as he sneers into another smooch. ‘fuck.’ he moaned into your mouth as a tent forms in his boxers. ‘your voice always gets me going.’ you looked down and immediately dropped to your knees.

you hadn’t sucked your boyfriend’s cock in what seemed like forever. you pulled his boxers to his ankles as his thick cock sprung up, throbbing in the cool air of the room. you grabbed his pole, gaslighting him into thinking you were going to start at the tip. instead you began to massage his beefy, low-hanging balls in your mouth. ‘Y/N, fuck, that’s where the spunk is stored, not where you drink it from’ he snickered, removing them from your mouth. ‘you’ve got to st-UGHHHH’ you deepthroated with ease, loving how his dumb, naive nature was still translated to your time in the sheets. ‘that’s it baby, good boy’ he praises, looking at the slobber that made his dick glisten. ‘shit.’ he cums without warning, giving you an impromptu facial. ‘sorry darling, i came as soon as i saw you slap my dick on your thick lips.’ your boyfriend helped you to clean up, pushing his hand all over your face and fingering your mouth with his nut.

you moved to undressing, as you straddled your man. ‘i know you wanna pound me into tomorrow, but you can’t,’ gesturing to his bruise. he whined and cooed. ‘however…’ you whispered into his ear, jerking him of with a mix of his cum and your spit ‘imma help my man out tonight.’ as you sank onto his schlong with ease. his hands immediately grabbed your globes, as he licked his lips salaciousy, enjoying your physique. ‘so fucking hot.’ your bf mumbled. you started bouncing on his cock as he slowly rutted in you from beneath, your hole was already sore.

it was gonna be a long night…

@gayaristocrat imma save your fantasy for dacre, that man is 90s fine fr

[anzulvr]

HEYYYYYYY LOVE

The devil and us spending Christmas tofwwther qnd we do all the stuff you do on Christmas, snowball fights (we're so going under), giving gifts and all that stuff.

And since its also Karmas Birthday, lets say the reader is like- a VERY spoiling person, like they always make sure gifts are perfect and epic

xmas + birthday headcanons! Karma x Reader // not proofread but oh well it’s timeeee!! °. *࿐

Since Karmas parents travel often it isn’t uncommon for him to spend Christmas (also his birthday) alone.

To find out Karma hasn’t properly celebrated Christmas in some years made you decide this year’s Christmas had to be extra!

Christmas Eve you force him into a living room sleepover. You spend the day watching movies and talking, spending time together and everything.

He makes you play some messed up version of truth or dare except you can only pick dare. Spending half the day embarrassing one another!

“I dare you to go caroling to the neighbors house.”

“But they hate me ever since I broke their window with my back four years ago.”

“Great! This will be a good way to repay them.”

Snowball fights are brutal because he doesn’t hold back!!

Neither do you, but the guy cannot loose. He is getting the last laugh even if it means climbing onto the roof to get you unsuspectingly.

Making gingerbread houses could be something else, he’s unfortunately good at that too even though it’s his first time since primary school .

GINGERBREAD MEN specifically ugly ones of people you hate (Asano)

You guys decorate your tree together!! (He DIY-ed ornaments with funny pictures of you.)

Seems like the type of guy to try to scare you with an elf on the shelf throughout the day. As in hangs it on a rope attached on a ceiling fan so you wake up to a creepy disheveled doll in your face the night before.

As for gifts and spoiling him, you’d ask him what he wants and he’d just tell you he doesn’t need a gift.

So now you have to interrogate Nagisa and get him to find out for you.

You ended up getting a few things like clothes, video games, some crazy spices for his weird collection. Going all out with a signed copy of the latest Sonic Ninja comic from his favorite director.

His reaction? He’s fanboying on the inside but trying to be cool about it. He casually brags to Nagisa not only about the signed copy but about how cool you are to go out of your way to do everything.

He got you a gift too but he’s 1000% pranking you with something else beforehand because he needs to have his fun.

You had to buy him a cake too, then make your family sing for him and go the extra mile to get him birthday decorations too.

Spoil him all day with food and attention, he hasn’t been excited for his birthday in a hot minute- but now that he’s got this he’s looking forward for next year.

[firefly--bright]

What are your Jean headcanons regarding Christmas morning?

i love soft morning hcs HERE WE GO also again i chose to do this in modern au, if you'd like canon au, lmk! also brief warning erm VERY SMALL talks of marraige :3 also ft mama kirstein :3 taglist ; @holding-infinity-and-a-book , @mrsnobodynobody , @hopeless-anti-romantic-again , @jeanscremebrulee , @berrijam , @happxme , @cherrypieyourface , @imgayandshesanime , @moonmalice , @kivernova , @potaho3frog , @xakilicious , @katestrophes , @gojo-ana , @ppushable, @candleohappiness , @zombiefiedskeivy , @1ovede1uxe ❅ masterlist is in pinned post! ❅ enter my taglist! ❅ requests for headcanons are open! ❅

❅ hes a fucking grump. lets get that straight. dont get me wrong, he's more of a morning person than a night one, but that doesnt mean he'll be happy about getting up in the mornings. more so in the winters because he wants to stay warm under the covers with you

❅ and youre wearing his hoodie, right, and his arms are wrapped around you which is his definition of a perfect nap/sleep so excuse him if he wants to stay in bed with you forever.

❅ but! regardless! he wakes up super duper early because he wants to surprise you. he's bought you the perfect gift and of course he's extremely excited about it <3 something you'd been wanting for months but never got around to buying, as a necessity, but also on top of that he'd bought something he knew you'd like. + a note. yeah his love language is gift giving because he's a fucking sap

❅ anyway. he makes you your favourite breakfast because he knows youre tired after the last night YOU WENT TO A CHRISTMAS EVE PARTY WITH UR FRIENDS GUYS its pg 13.... (i mean. i leave it upto your imagination). anyway. he wants to impress you even if youre already his.

❅ but halfway through trying to make pancakes that seem to be sticking to his pan, you wake up because he'd accidentally been making too much noise :') nothing he plans ever goes well but its endearing.

❅ he wishes you a merry christmas and tries to coerce you to go back to bed until he finishes his plans, but you insist on helping him. he lets you. somehow your pancakes dont stick to the pan. "you werent putting enough butter," "i was scared of it burning," he argues, but he notes down the improvements for next time :3

❅ and then he guides you to sit on the floor next to your tiny lil christmas tree that the two of you had decorated, excitedly putting up all the ornaments. a couple of them were given as a housewarming gift by his mother and sister, a couple were a hand-made activity with his neice (air dried clay shaped into gingerbread men with...eery smiles and a couple paper snowflakes) and some given to you by sasha (sanrio themed. because @ppushable made me think about it too much. thx) right.

❅ hes a sucker for tradition. makes you sit down, relax, babe, ive got this, and then turns some christmas music on, sets the tv up so theres a loop of the same fireplace video, sits infront of you criss-crossing his legs.

❅ its perfect. hes perfect, even if he's still in his pyjamas (his cars themed pants, mind you, a secret santa gift from connie) and an old grey hoodie, hair untamed, uncaring of how it was viewed as long as it was seen by you, and he's wearing these fuzzy socks that you had given him last christmas that had surprisingly still held up pretty well. its just the two of you.

❅ anyway. you play rock paper scissors to see who gets to open their gift first. he wins (which is not what he wanted. he loved winning but he wanted to see your reaction first). your smile is worth it, he thinks, because even as youre trying to contain your excitement, its very visible on your face. or maybe he can just read you too well.

❅ you feed him bites of the chocolate chip pancakes as he opens his gift. hes one of those people to both carefully wrap and unwrap presents :3 and he very gently pries the wrapping paper open, finding the exact points you had taped it shut. your work is a little sloppy, but he somehow finds his way around it.

❅ i hc that he cries relatively easily but hates showing it but he also cant hide it from you, so when he opens your gift imagine him immediately teaaring up because he loves it and then hugs you and burries his face in your neck. when you try pulling away he doesnt let you because hes embarassed :') what a sap i hate him

❅ after both your gifts are open and recieved you settle onto the couch with a warm cup of coffee to watch your favourite christmas movies that he claims he doesnt like but come on. look at him. he (begrudingly) puts it on because he wanted the fireplace recording to play for the whole day.

❅ at one point before you start the movies his mom calls to wish you guys a merry christmas!!!! its very cute she's very adorable and tells you that she's made you guys her famous tiramisu and buche de Noel (had to search that one up lol) and tells you that shes packadged and kept it in the fridge especially for you guys for when you visit <3 she tells you that she'd give you the recipie when you do come and then asks jean when hes going to "finally ask you to be a kirstein-" before he takes the phone from you and cuts her off. later on tells you "hey yeah so,,, you dont have to take my last name btw,, like when we do get married... i mean ive thought about it, ofc, and haha... like i'd completely understand if you dont want to take my last name-" and it turns into a cute lil conversation about you guys' future before he spirals more about you taking his name?? he was tweaking over NOTHING

anyway. complimentary moodboard because this is such a cute ask <3

hope you liked this!! v cute ask now i cant stop thinking about it <3

[peachiejeongin]

Cookies and Chaos | Felix

Day 1 of the 12 Days of Staymas!

Synopsis: Baking Christmas cookies is supposed to be a sweet, simple activity; however, with flour fights, deformed batches, and the constant distractions of your boyfriend, it quickly turns into a delightful mess.

Pairing: bf!Felix x reader

Genre: Fluff!

Warnings: None!

Notice: Hello, my loves! Welcome to the first official PeachieJeongin 12 Days of Staymas! Click on the link above to find the other fanfictions that go along with this mini-series, and enjoy the read!

---

"Okay," Felix squinted intently at the recipe card you had given him, his deep Australian accent coating his dialect. "Step one: Cream the butter and sugar together."

You had invited your boyfriend over that night to embark in your annual Christmas tradition: baking Christmas cookies! You had believed it would be a wholesome way to bond and enjoy the holiday spirit; what you had not accounted for was Felix's...unique approach to baking.

You prepared a bowl of softened butter and sprinkled a cup of sugar over top.

"Do you want me to mix it, or do you want to do it?" you asked, a holly dazzle in your eyes.

"I've got this!" Felix assured confidently, gently taking the whisk out of the cabinet and starting on the task at hand. A few seconds later, it became clear that Felix did indeed not have this; butter and sugar flew around the kitchen as Felix whisked with a bit too much enthusiasm.

"Felix!" you gasped, grabbing his arm and laughing as a dollop of sugary butter landed on your sweater. Felix froze and his eyes widened in guilt.

"Oops." Felix was grinning mischievously. "Well, might as well finish the job, right?"

"Huh?" Before you could get a response, Felix had grabbed a pinched of flour, flicking it at your nose.

"Oh!" you groaned playfully, your face scrunching as a result of the impact. "It. Is. ON!" You retaliated with a handful of flour, aimed directly at his shirt; before you knew it, the kitchen turned into a baking sandstorm as you and Felix flung fistfuls of flour at one another. You were both laughing so hard that you could barely even see through the flurry.

"Okay, okay!" you screamed out as Felix reached for the flour tin once more. "Truce?" you held up your pinkie finger for Felix to take; the poor boy was smeared with flour, looking like a personified snowman. You did not look much better with the white baking substance coating your entire scalp.

"Yes, yes," Felix replied, crossing his pinkie finger with yours. "Truce. These cookies aren't going to bake themselves."

You nodded agreeingly, giggling.

"Promise you'll behave now?" you glanced at Felix, eyes doe in order to elicit the vow.

"Promise. Time to get serious!"

Felix's "serious" attempts were no less chaotic than his silly attempts. As the baking process continued, he ended up cracking a couple of eggs much too forcefully, sending egg yolk cascading off of the edge of the counter.

You thought it as a miracle when the cookie dough was finished, thankfully looking like cookie dough. You brought out a handful of cookie cutters and set them out along with some knives in case the two of you wanted to make any other shapes.

"Baby, can you look at these?" Felix asked in reference to his cookies; you nearly doubled over in laughter at the sight. The cookie shapes were hilariously unrecognizable; the gingerbread men appeared more like octopuses, and there was a star with six points in the center of the pan.

"They're, um," you began diplomatically, stifiling the fit of giggles. "Unique?" Felix narrowed his eyes at you, causing the laughter you had been holding in to erupt like a volcano.

By the end of the evening, the kitchen looked like a war zone; flour was spread everywhere, the egg yolk had made its way to the floor, and other ingredients lay spread out amongst counters and tables.

The cookies, however, turned out delicious.

As you and your boyfriend snuggled together on the couch, munching on the freshly baked treats and watching Christmas movies, Felix nudged you playfully.

"Hey," he called softly, his voice more serious this time. "Thank you for inviting me over. This is always my favorite part of the year. It was really fun."

You smiled, leaning over as if you were about to kiss him; however, you stopped just before reaching his lips.

"Even though we destroyed my kitchen?"

"Especially because of that," he whispered cheekily as he cupped your cheek and closed the distance between you two with love and Christmas care. He pulled away after a few seconds, smiling down at you, and mumbling a rhetorical question:

"It's not Christmas with a little chaos, right?"

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: Daryl helps you reignite the Christmas spirit as best as he can.

A/N: This started as an incorrect quote inspired by a friend and her epic battle with a christmas tree. You can find the quote here. A special thank you to @shadowcitrine for allowing me to bear witness to this gladiator battle to the death. It was the hardest I have laughed in a long time. And furthermore, thank you again for allowing me to use your suffering to my creative advantage. I love you. ❤️

🎶Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree🎶

“How ya even know when it is anyway?” Holding the hex nut up to eye level, he turned it over between his fingers. Yep, that was the one. He placed it in the designated spot and fitted the wrench, his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth as he worked. 

“I don’t, but it’s mid winter and it’s snowing and why not? Don’t be so bah humbug, Daryl.” You chuckled at his expression. He never knew he was making it and you never told him. He would certainly make every attempt to stop and it was far too adorable to allow that. 

“I ain’t.” He grumbled, sitting up to scrutinize his own work. A droplet of melted snow landed on the apple of his cheek. He didn’t seem to mind, if he noticed at all. The roof of the old stall was known to leak. “Just—never understood it, s’all.”

Your smile faded. “You never had one.” You didn’t need him to confirm, and he didn’t. Not verbally. The way he paused with the wrench halfway to the bike spoke volumes. After a heartbeat, he cleared his throat and continued his work. 

The holiday wasn’t something that had been celebrated in the several years since the turn. Truthfully, no one had paid attention. Some of the children likely didn’t even know what Christmas was. The thought had always made your heart heavy but there had always been something standing in the way of any reclaiming of the holiday. 

“We should celebrate this year.” You blurted, not even really realizing that you had spoken out loud until Daryl scoffed. 

“Good luck with that.”

“I’m serious.” Crossing the space between the two of you, you crouched and balanced yourself with a hand on the bike’s front tire. “Come on, Daryl. It’ll be great for the kids. Hell, maybe it’ll do everyone some good.” He sighed, allowing his hand to fall away from its task. The pout you pinned him with was certainly what did him in. 

“Fine.”

Biting your lip in the center of a beaming smile, you lunged at him, almost toppling him over with the embrace. “Thank you!” Daryl nodded and patted your back, still awkward in his reciprocations of your touches even after so long as a couple. It was endearing. 

“Yeah, yeah. Whaddaya need me to do?”

With a firm grip on his upper arms, you pushed him back to arm’s length. “You’re gonna be Santa’s little helper! Come on!” 

Daryl scrubbed a hand over his face and gave a heaving sigh. “M’a regret this.”

It had taken six days and four supply runs to gather enough decorations for at least your own home to be decorated. You enlisted the help of some of the children for drawings and crafts that could be used as well. Though you wished you could color the community in lights and garland, your space would have to do for that first year. 

Your hope was for it to coax the holiday spirit from within the adults and inspire a sense of wonder from the little ones. Even with all the effort, it seemed so lackluster. And Daryl, bless him, was granting a valiant effort toward your endeavor. 

You had just pulled some cookies from the oven—gingerbread men for the kids to decorate with what little frosting and candy you could manage—when there was a knock on the door. 

“Yeah, one sec!” You called, pulling off the oven mitts to discard them on the countertop. A spared glance into the living room had you smiling. The multicolored lights you ran for a few hours each evening cast a brilliant illuminance across the door and then Carol’s face when you opened it. “Hey, come on in.”

Her boot had barely touched the floor on the other side of the threshold when a loud crash sounded from the living room. “What was that?” She queried.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it!” Came Daryl’s gruff response before your lips could even part. Carol’s eyebrows shot toward her hairline before another thump thud crash could be heard. 

“What was that?” She chuckled. 

“You’re askin’ a awful lot’a questions for someone who ain’t even in the goddamn room!”

Try as the two of you might to withhold, you broke out into laughter. You hid your knowing smile behind your hand. “Daryl’s putting up Christmas decorations.” 

“No I ain’t!” He shouted with obvious annoyance.  “M’playin’ “whose dick’s bigger” with a plastic fuckin’ tree!” 

More ruckus echoed, and you finally decided that maybe your archer needed some assistance. “Are you okay in here?” You chortled, rubbing your lips together in an attempt to maintain a straight face. 

Daryl was chewing his bottom lip in earnest when his eyes met yours. There was no anger there, but something more akin to embarrassment. Tilting your head, your nose crinkled and brow furrowed. What on earth could he be embarrassed—

Oh. 

The tree leaned to one side, bare spots where lights should be, limbs missing and broken on the floor. No matter the battle, it appeared the tree had won. Carol was snickering behind you, shushed by a wave of your hand and a stuttering ssh as you tried not to join her. 

“It looks—” You began.  

“Like it needs a stage name.” Carol finished for you. You turned to her again, your smile belying your admonishing tone. “Something about it seriously isn’t right with Jesus.” She laughed heartily. 

“He ain’t got nothin’ to do with this.” Turning back, you could almost see a pout decorating his handsome face. “May be his birthday but this is my tree!” Oh, how hard it was not to tease him. “Why couldn’t he just’a got a cake like everybody else?”

“Daryl!” You gave in, nearly doubling over. 

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with a lighter and some beeswax.” He grumbled, petulantly yanking his arm away when you laid your hand on it. 

“It’s got character.” You assured him, face mockingly serious. Arms crossed, you stood next to him, head tilted to match the lean of the tree. “Like an extra in the Nutcracker.”

“One ya ain’t gonna let dance in the front.” He mimicked your pose, appearing a little more at ease—almost as if he himself might laugh. Carol joined the two of you, three sets of eyes studying the colorful disaster. 

“It really says something.” She affirmed with a hint of amusement. 

“Yeah, says m’sorry.” Daryl huffed. Smiling genuinely, you switched the tilt of your head to the other side, your temple resting against his shoulder. 

“I love our little crooked tree.” Your smile broadened when you felt his arm move and come to rest around your shoulders, his lips pressing into your hair. “Thank you.”

“Mhm.” 

You weren’t sure how long you stood there, comfortable in his embrace, but the excited yays from Judith and RJ broke the trance, your already upturned mouth splitting into a beaming smile. 

“Uncle Daryl, we have a tree!” The young boy exclaimed, jumping up and down. You had explained the gist of things to a group of children, delighting in their excitement when you promised to try your hardest in reviving the season. 

“Sure do.” He sounded almost proud, sparking something warm inside your chest. 

“How about some cookies before we invite everyone over?” You offered, your eyes on the children before finding Daryl watching you, a corner of his mouth upturned. 

There almost wasn’t room in your modest home for all the townsfolk but you made it work, serving stew and desserts and heaping helping of cheer. The laughs and smiles were all you had ever wanted for the community, the desire to uplift their spirits and inspire hope where so little had remained.

“Hey.” Daryl breathed against your ear, his arms wrapping around your middle. All teeth and crinkled eyes, you laid your head back against his shoulder and just watched. “Think ya did it.”

“We did it.” You corrected him, angling your face upward to kiss his chin, his whiskers comfortably scratching your lips. He hummed.

“Got a surprise for ya.” Daryl stepped back, arms releasing their hold only for his hand to find yours with a gentle tug. A curious expression crossed your face. 

“A surprise?”

“Mhm.” 

It took no coaxing for you to follow him to the door, watching him open it with sheer excitement reflecting in your bright orbs. You weren’t sure what you were expecting but to see his bike, strategically wrapped in garland and bells under the gentle peppering of snow was not it. 

“Oh, Daryl.” Your bottom lip quivered, your voice trembling. “You did this for me?” The tears that began to escape were unbidden, born not of sadness. 

“Well, yeah.” He kicked at something nonexistent on the porch, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Y’deserve something too.” Your smile was dazzling but dimmed after a moment, expression falling as you watched him. “What?”

“I didn’t—I couldn’t get anything for you.” 

Daryl stepped into your space without hesitation, the side of his forefinger below your chin while his thumb stroked your cheek. “Got all I need right here in this house.”

“Daryl.” You sniffled, a sob cut off by his lips on yours. The kiss was chaste, the taste of sugar and smoke so deliciously Daryl that you felt your heart flutter. 

“C’mon, let’s take ya on a sleigh ride.” 

With your hand in his, he guided you to the bike, your eyes wet and your heart full. Not even the cold winter wind whipping against your face could erase your smile. 

[heartmix]

Everything Is A Competition - Matthew Tkachuk

Pairing: Matthew Tkachuk x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 600+

Warning: normal tkachuk family activities

Twelve Fic of Christmas - Gingerbread Houses

Masterlist \ Hockey Masterlist

Knowing how competitive the Tkachuk household was, you should have seen this coming. Every little thing they did they made it a competition. Of course, they would fight over who could build the better gingerbread house. How foolish of you to think they wouldn't. 

"Me and dad are totally going to win!" Taryn's voice outpowered her brother's bickering making the two roll their eyes. 

"Yeah. You two could not work together to save your life." Keith piped in wearing a proud smile at the thought of him and Taryn sweeping the boys. 

"Who said we're teaming up?" Brady smirked making the father-daughter duo frown. 

"It's Brady and Emma then me and my girl." Matthew wore the cockiest smile you've seen outside of hockey. One would mistake him for betting on a game. 

"We are?" You asked turning to Emma who wore the same confused look as you.

"Yes, you are," Matthew answered for you. 

That's how you found yourself sitting next to Matthew with pieces of gingerbread, candy, and icing all around you. The last time you tried to assemble a gingerbread house was in high school so there wasn't any hope. But one thing about being paired with a Tkachuk they are going to make you feel like the star player and everything was in your hands.

"We are so going to win this," Matthew mumbled mainly to himself concentrating on what pieces were the wall and what was the roof. 

"Just to let you know I haven't built one of these since high school so not sure how helpful I'll be." You confessed prepping the icing bag and waiting for whatever he told you to do. 

"Well lucky for the both of us, you're good at everything." He winked over as heat rushed to your cheeks. Of course, he would charm his way with this.

That's how you found yourself determined to make the gingerbread house look somewhat good. If anything you were a fabulous decorator and took the placement of every candy seriously. Matthew was quite good at making sure the structure held up. Sure there was some cursing and groaning the first few attempts at making sure it wouldn't fall, but after finding the trick with the frosting, he was unstoppable. 

It took the better half of half an hour for everyone to be done. Each Tkachuk smiled proudly at their creation while you and Emma were just happy it was over. Looking over each gingerbread house everyone did pretty well, but there were clear signs of what parts the females did compared to the men. 

"Okay now to decide who wins!" Taryn clapped her hands together excited to be taking home the win. 

"Well, mom?" Brady turned to his mother who chuckled at her family's antics. She was used to them doing so many competitions at this point she would just pick a random kid despite if they actually did good or not. 

"It's Christmas, all of you win." At that everyone let out a form of a groan or complaint. 

"C'mon, mom!" Matthew begged from beside you, clearly wanting a be crowned the winner. 

"Fine fine, the girls win."

"How?! There's a girl on every team!" Brady's voice boomed through the living room, clearly disappointed his mother was beating around the bush. 

 "Exactly. Now can we please go enjoy dinner."

"Of course, come on kids." Keith surrendered to the arguing, following his wife into the kitchen. 

"Well, that's fair, I win out of the both of you," Taryn said turning to her brothers and sticking out a teasing tongue before following her parents into the kitchen. 

"I don't care what anyone says we won, thanks to you." Matthew turned to you with a big smile, opposite to the frown he was wearing just a moment ago. 

"Doubt that, but it was fun."

"Anything with you is fun." He winked leaning in for a kiss.

"You guys are so disgusting," Brady said as he had an arm around Emma who was laughing at her husband's comment. 

"Says the married guy!"

[krillonthegrill]

rant about double exposure's Amanda Thomas (i adore her, for anyone that's worried reading that - this is long)

god no one's gonna care about this 💀 the thing that makes me so upset about Amanda Thomas's character is how little she has to do with the main plot and how much of a FUMBLE that is.

i love Amanda. i want to put her in my pocket and carry her around. i made a bee-line for her every single time i was in The Snapping Turtle just so i could have a surface-level five-sentence-total conversation with her. but she really is only there to romance Max. and that totally sucks.

she's 10x less enjoyable if you don't romance her. i feel like that rings true for every romance options in the franchise with the exception of Chloe and Rachel - it's a flaw of the writing, in this case, but i understand how it came about. they don't wanna lock players out of her romance if they decide that they actually do wanna romance her later on (because, cmon, her introduction you speak for maybe two minutes before you're given the option - granted, i loved her immediately but not everyone's gonna feel that way), but they don't account for people who don't wanna romance period. she flirts with you very openly like she didn't call HERSELF your friend just an episode ago. it can feel hot and cold, and people are allowed to be annoyed by that

anyway

after some thinking, i'm realizing she reminds me of a worse Steph, not worse as in behavior but worse in writing. Steph had ties to the plot, she knew the characters Alex had issues with WELL. Gabe was her BEST FRIEND, the ENTIRE reason she stayed in Haven Springs, she was with Alex the same amount of time Alex was with Ryan. and even THEN Steph falls short because she already dealt with her flaws in Wavelengths, but at least she got a DLC to show how she dealt with her trauma after Arcadia Bay

Amanda isn't really friends with any of the main cast. not with Safi, not with Moses, not with Reggie or Diamond or ANYONE ELSE. EVEN THOUGH THEY'RE ALL IN THE TURTLE ALL THE FUCKING TIME

and she knows them well enough. when Amanda talks about Safi in a post, she mentions that Safi was the first person to sign up for an open-mic night that Amanda was really worried no one would go to

in the dead timeline, she keeps a gingerbread house on the side specifically FOR Moses so he can build one, because she knows he would probably want to even though Safi's dead.

like, when you go with Moses and Safi to see the meteors, Amanda's posts implies that she would've gone had she not had work. but have they EVER fucking hung out? canon content implies they do not.

she has an entire LIFE separate from the plot:

• people apparently fucking ADORE her. like, everyone in town. Max makes a comment about everybody having a huge crush on her, both men and women. she's just generally well-liked

• she's the oldest of six, she has TWO NAMED SISTERS, Melissa and Ashley, that exist in the world and even comment on Max's posts. i think one of them - i believe it's Ashley - makes a joke about U-Hauls and Amanda being a huge lesbian

• she likes to cook. she makes Max HOMEGROWN salad (girl, homegrown) and FOCCACIA. she cooks her siblings breakfast. one of the polaroids you can find is her cooking Max breakfast - i'm going to go out on a limb and assume acts of service is a love language for her

• she names people she is friends with that do not show up ANYWHERE in game (Henry, Eddie, Teegan, etc.)

• a good chunk of her conversations with Max are about music. a polaroid you can find includes them finally going to a concert. one of the first conversations you have with her is her gushing about the Vermont bands

• she's Cherokee and Abenaki, she talks about the indigenous people on campus having a place to congregate and have a community. i think she mentions they're moving something to do with weaving (? - some kind of craft, something with beads) to the Turtle because she wants them to be able to do it. she fucking hosts an indigenous artist exhibit INSIDE the Turtle

• i think she talks about volunteering at a soup kitchen?

• she mentions her therapist in-game three times, two times in the same scene, about becoming too attached to people way too quickly and about making good choices (when she decides to NOT sleep with Max - which, boooooo 🍅🍅🍅 more power to her, god knows i would've jumped at the chance). Max calls her a control freak - jokingly, but still (and it's true - she's not the owner of the Turtle, but she's basically running it)

all of this would be fine if it was acknowledged by the narrative. and it IS, but only by HER

she doesn't know Max, not really. but she desperately wants to. and she expresses that so many fucking times. but you never get the chance to.

it drives me nuts. you make a character with lots of charm - at least, to me; i think Samantha Bowling did a fantastic job, props to her - and do nothing with her. it's like DeckNine knows how to give a character the illusion of being fleshed out without doing any of the work to MAKE them fleshed out

[theyanderespecialist]

Christmas With Velvette Part 1 (Scenario) Yandere Velvette X Autistic Reader (Hazbin Hotel)

[Hello, My Sexy Muffins! This is going to be a four-parter series! The first one is going to be shopping for and making gender bread men with Velvette as you are the autistic gender neutral reader! Also will have this in a video form as well! So, please enjoy this chapter here!  (Disclaimer: Velvette is not yandere in canon! This is just for fun and not to be taken seriously at all! Simping for fictional characters and yanderes is fine! Just do not be illegal or gross about it! You know who you are! You Dirty, Flaky, Biscuits! Yanderes are not ideal partners to have in real life! Also, remember to separate fiction from reality and headcanon from canon! Thank you!  Disclaimer 2: Not All Autistic people act in this way, it is a spectrum and some Autistic people are good at masking so they can appear not to be autistic when they are! They may not even know they are autistic because of all of it!) 

Disclaimer: The reader/listener is Gender Neutral In This I believe.) 

(Velvette) (Christmas With Velvette Part One Shopping for/Making Gingerbread Men Cookies)  (No One's POV) 

You were out in the store with Velvette, it is the Holiday Season in the pride rings. Which meant people were even more assholes than normal. Of course, you were excited about making Gingerbread Men Cookies, but you wanted to get specific ingredients because of texture and taste. You are Autistic and an emotional one at that so it was hard for you to deal with the crowds and constant Christmas music in the stores.  You loved the holidays, but the stores and such were not made for you during this time. Velvette had your hand in hers as you two walked through the isles. It was extra packed today and she ensured you were okay.  "Now we just need this specific ginger." She says and you nod your head, making it down the spices aisle, you pull away from Velvette as you see there is only one left of the ginger you get. 

Once you got to it some sinner demon grabbed onto your hand and you froze. Like a deer in headlights.  "Let go of that!" She says. "I need it!"  "I-I got it fi-first, and I need it." You say not looking her in the eye as you feel like you might panic because of the confrontation. 

"Well, I do not give a damn if you need it!" She snapped. "Who the hell do you think you are, some big shot overlord!" 

"No, they are not." Velvette's voice came from behind you. "But they are dating an overlord, now let them go before I put an angelic bullet in your skull."  Velvette was right behind you and had an angelic gun in her hand with angelic bullets. You were still frozen and did not see how angry Velevette is but you can hear it in her voice. She was beyond pissed right now.  The sinner demon let you go and she ran off leaving you shaking, your knees felt weak, and your chest was starting to tighten. It was bad, as tears ran down your face and you fell in Velvette's arms. She helped you up and got you to calm down. The rest of the shopping trip was a blur and you soon found yourself at home. bundle up in blankets with hot cocoa.  "There we go, you calm down and then we can make your grandmother's recipe for gingerbread men." She says and kisses your cheek.  You felt much better and started to work on your tablet with your comfort destress apps and soon everything was in peace for you. 

Velvette was talking to Vox. "I want you to find this bitch, she dares laid her cheap ass hands on my (Name)!" Velvette growled into the phone.  "Do not worry, Velvette, I am on it, I know no one touches your sweet little one," Vox says. "Just give me some time and we will have her for you to deal with."  "Good, I got to go, text me when you got the bitch." 

"Of course, and save some of (Name's) cookies for me, their grandmother's recipe is so damn good," Vox says.  "Not if Val eats all the first," Velevette says and hangs up. 

It was now time to make them and you got up putting your mug into the dishwasher after rinsing it. She looked at you with a smile. "Ready?" She asks you and you nod.  You put on a pair of gloves because you did not like things touching your hands or getting messy. It made Bakin a lot more easier this way. It was a fun time and you notice a bit of cookie dough on Velvette's cheek. You leaned in and licked it off her cheek and then kissed her on the mouth. She was a bit shocked by this and kissed back. She then pressed you into a table and SMASH a bowl fell on the floor and she shooed you out so she could clean it up.  You two snuggled on the couch and waited for the cookies to be done. Once they were you went to the kitchen to get them off the cooling tray since it had been about a minute and get some ice-cold milk.  You are dipping the gingerbread man's head into the milk when you hear Velvette's phone go off. You grab it.  "Hey! Velv!" You call with a mouth full of cookies. "Vox texted you, says he gots the bit-"  You stopped as you saw the message. Velvette came in. "I can explain."  "You are killing people because of me, again." You say and she looks at you.  "It is not like that luv, she hurt you."  You hold your hand up. "I-I don't want to hear it, just please leave." She took her phone and left and you grabbed the plate of cookies. You were going to eat your feelings... 

You loved Velevtte, but her love could be toxic and sometimes you had no idea how to deal with it... 

[YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS first Christmas with Velvette is done! I hope you all enjoyed this, and stay sexy, all of my sexy muffins!] 

[joons-bonsais]

Home for Christmas

Synopsis: Christmas is everything he is not, and yet everything you care about.

Pairing: Namjoon/Reader

Smutty holiday fluff. Word count: 7,675

Author's note: After many years of reading, this is my first time posting Bangtan fic on Tumblr! I would appreciate any love or feedback. Thank you!

Namjoon hates Christmas. 

He’s well aware that he’s become some kind of Scrooge and you like to call him The Grinch with all the affection in the world. 

Namjoon likes his own space. He likes time to himself. His corner to read. His time exploring museums and quiet bookstores without the hustle and bustle of droves of people. And Christmas, it’s…well Christmas is everything he isn’t. 

It’s about crowded malls full of people and children. Long lines. (He told you once that if he could, he’d do all the shopping online and he’ll never forget how your face soured. “It’s a part of the experience,” you insisted. Before launching into some talk about how seeing all of the lights and people lined up for Santa was just part of the season.)

Christmas is everything he is not, and yet everything you care about. You, with your red lipstick and infectious smile. The one that feels like it’s lodged itself into the corner of his chest. (If he’s gonna stick with the Grinch metaphor, then his heart is two sizes too small.) You and your stack of cookies piled high on his kitchen counters. The smell of sugar and frosting wafting through his house. The way you stay up late into the night baking. (Cooking and baking alone. He always leaves you alone. His chest aches at the thought, but he’ll get to that later -)

You with the holiday earrings that dangle against your face and hit the lights. Sometimes they get caught in your hair, so he has to smile and stop and untangle them from the strands, and you laugh and stand up on your toes and kiss him thanks. They come in so many different shapes - wreaths, holly, and mistletoe, and gingerbread houses and gingerbread men, even ones that light up. 

You hang tinsel wherever you can. Balancing your feet on chairs to reach up and touch the tallest corners in your house. Sometimes he has to hold you by the waist, or you ask him to help and he obliges you. You’re cute like that, you could get him to do anything you need. 

It’s you and the way you hang mistletoe over the corridor that joins your kitchen and living room together and the way you kiss him. Looping your fingers into the belt hoops on his pants and pulling him in for a kiss every morning. (Not this morning though. He remembers wrly-)

It’s you sitting on the floor of the living room by his feet, surrounded by roll on roll of wrapping paper as you wrap gifts for all of the important people in your life. The scent of the cinnamon and Christmas tree candles you light. The way the flames of the fireplace crackle in the distance between the two of you. The excited way you look at the presents under the tree, when he steals a glance at you over the corner of his book. 

It’s you. Your generosity and the way you so eagerly offer your heart to the people you love. The way you light up a room. The red and gold ribbons on the presents you stay up hours wrapping. The smell of sugar and icing, or roast vegetables and chicken through the house when he gets home.The sweetness of your mouth against his, the taste of peppermint on your tongue when he kisses you. Even the giant ugly Christmas sweaters you buy, that seem to engulf your curvy frame. The way you always buy one for him to match-  even if he so rarely obliges you and wears them. You’re the gift. You’re the season. He’s always adored that about you, why did he not make that more obvious sooner?

He slams the book in his lap shut, his eyes staring up at the Christmas tree you’d begged him to help you with. It went up right before the first of December, like clockwork. Just like every year. Except now, it’s Christmas Eve and you aren’t here to tenderly touch the Christmas ornaments or fix them in place. You’re not here to place a gift in his hand at midnight and crawl into his lap, insisting he opens something you’ve got him. 

Namjoon’s hand pulls at the Christmas sweater on his large frame. He feels dumb. His phone feels heavy in his pocket. Should he text you? He itches to send you a photo of the sweater. Maybe you would crack a smile? Maybe you would come home? A quieter voice nags at his brain: Maybe you still want to be left alone. 

Namjoon is hopeless. He finds himself turning on the Christmas lights on the tree and the ones on the porch, and everywhere you’ve put them up in the house and in the front yard. 

One Christmas tree was never enough for you. He counted about three in the house, the last time he checked. But he finds another one still in its box, resting against a wall by your closet. It looks abandoned and sad, like it’s waiting for you to return too. He lets out a disgruntled noise as he hoists it over his shoulder and brings it downstairs. He’ll set it up next to the front door. Maybe if he’s lucky you’ll come home and see it. 

It doesn’t take him long to set it up, he shakes off some of the fake pine needles that cling to his sweater. He finds more ornaments, red bells and candy canes and little red balls. He’ll stick with a theme. You’d love a theme. 

Then Namjoon moves to the living room. He even gets on a ladder to straighten the star on top of the tree, where it’s sat crooked for the rest of the month because you couldn’t reach high enough to fix it. He throws some wood into the fireplace so it crackles like you’re there to wrap presents at his feet. He lights the cinnamon candles and he touches the mistletoe on the wall, where he imagines how he’d kiss you sorry and kiss you thanks and leave you breathless. 

He later finds a small stack of presents under the tree in your living room, he vaguely remembers you telling him that you meant to wrap them late and give them out after New Years when you come back to work after the holidays. He settles on the floor. He’s hunched over, crossing one long leg over another, as he gets to work wrapping each box. He’s able to secure each present is safely covered with colorful wrapping paper - and yet none of the expert packing expertise you have, so the corners aren’t folded as neatly as you would have done, but he keeps going. He finishes them off by tying some messy bows on top of each gift, before he realizes how hungry he is. Namjoon’s stomach grumbles in response as if to confirm his feelings. He wonders idly for a second, if you’ve already eaten and what you’re doing right now. Where would you have gone together tonight? What would you have made, had you decided to stay? 

In the kitchen, his hands sneak into the Santa shaped cookie jar you left on the counter, always full with chocolate cookies. He makes a packet of ramen, the only thing he can salvage tonight, and a cup of hot cocoa. He grabs your favorite mug from the counter, a snowman figure wrapped in a red scarf that he’s positive looks like it’s laughing at him right now. 

Through all of this, his phone continues to feel like a weight in his pocket as the night goes on. He misses you a lot. He misses you so much. 

He doesn’t know where he wants to sleep tonight. The bed feels too empty without you. The red and black flannel sheets were your choice. The other rooms have Christmas tree print sheets and every room feels like it knows you’re missing too, knows that you have just vanished. 

The only place he feels safe enough is the living room. God help him, he even scrolls through the TV and picks a channel with one of those 24 hour rotation of Christmas songs. “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” blares over the speakers as Monie comes to sit at his feet, whining softly, like he misses you too. 

“I know,” he tells him. “I know.”

The house is unsettling in its quiet. He decides to busy himself by making another batch of cocoa. The mug feels warm and heavy in his hand, the snowman is still laughing at him when he thinks back to the fight you had before you left-

“Which one do you want to wear to the Christmas party?” you’d asked him, holding up a hanger in each arm, one white sweater sitting on one and a black turtleneck sitting on the other. 

“What for?” he replied, not really looking at you.

“My friends want to take photos.”

“Uhh I don’t really care,” he’d said. “You know this stuff is more you than me, baby.”

“Your sister said she likes the black turtleneck better. She said she might be able to drop by too!” you said excitedly. 

“My sister?”

“I told you this morning, she said she might be in town.”

“Oh. It must have skipped my mind,” Namjoon had replied. He knows he can be forgetful, but he must have been so focused on getting to the studio that morning. He also remembers some messages from his family had gone unanswered and you’d replied to them before they could grow worried. You’re thoughtful like that. 

“Actually, baby - there’s been something I’ve been meaning to tell you-”

“Tell me what?” Your voice hadn’t even lost its excitement over thinking about plans yet. Bless your heart.

“I actually might not be able to make it, baby. I have something to finish back at the studio-”

“You always have something to finish at the studio…”

“I know, baby. But-”

“But it’s Christmas,” you’d said simply. He should have ended it there. If he was being honest, he knew the songs could wait. But he was tired, stubborn-

“It doesn’t matter, baby. I’ve got work to do, if I lose the idea- it can’t wait.-” But you can? I expect you to? What had he meant by that? He still doesn’t know. He groans at the memory, sliding his hand over his face. 

“Can it wait for just a few hours?” you sounded like you were begging him as you settled the clothes on your bed. “Julia’s coming, it’s her first time meeting you. I just want to get a few photos and have some food-” He could almost hear the “please” hanging off the end of your tongue. 

“You’ll be fine without me,” he’d insisted. 

“But I want you there.” Then, your voice sounding smaller - “ Joon. I don’t want to- please don’t make me go alone.”

“Baby- Try to understand-”

“I do,” you had said, voice beginning to sound cracked. “I always understand you. I always try to.”

“Then hear me out right now. Okay, listen? You’ll be fine. You could even spend the night with everyone! I’ll see you in the morning.”

“But-” 

Ugh. He remembers now. You couldn’t get a word in because that was when he’d started talking over you - like an irritated parent trying to reprimand their child. 

“We spent last Christmas together already, didn’t we? And the one before that. It’s just one. Day. Baby-”

“Not to me, it isn’t. Joon. Please-”

“This is so dumb, Y/N. Why are you wasting time? Why are we fighting about this? It’s one stupid day out of the whole damn year-”

He was careless, it was the wrong choice of words. He knew it the moment he let them slip and turned around to find you. The look on your face had made it hard to sleep that night. You looked so hurt. 

“Baby, I-”

You shook your head and that was the worst part. You looked like a sad painting coming to life. The movement wrenched the water from your eyes, as you started to blink back a few tears. 

“Baby,” he tried. “ Wait. I didn’t mean it like that-”

“No. You’re right. It’s stupid,” you said, sniffling as you repeated the same words he had just thrown at you. It made him feel cold, frozen in place. For a second, he couldn’t speak. “It’s stupid. It is. It’s one day of the year. I’ll tell your family- my friends- I’ll tell them- something-”

Even though it was his fault, you were still there trying to make up for him, to save face and make up for it and protect him. You’re an angel. The way you put up with his schedule and the way he can’t be there for you is a miracle in itself. Why did he not catch that? 

“Come on baby. I’m sorry- I didn’t-”

“No,” you said, shaking your head. And you were crossing the distance of the room now, too fast for him to reach for you. Pulling on a coat. Reaching for your half packed luggage.  “The thing is, we both know you’re not- Namjoon. And it’s fine.” You were blinking back tears as you said this. He remembers how your voice sounded when it cracked. “You hate it. It’s one stupid day out of the whole year. I understand how much your work means to you. I do. I always have. But it’s one - it’s just one stupid day- that means a lot to me. And I wish you could just be there. For me.”

The slamming of the door behind you felt like the final note. A few minutes later, Namjoon remembers Monie approaching the door, crying softly after you. 

When Namjoon looks back at the mug, it’s empty. He rubs his thumb across the edge of its rim and stares up at the clock on the wall. It’s past midnight. Christmas. 

He’s on the couch later, clutching a pillow to himself, his eyes almost drifting closed when the sound of -something-  someone- crashing into the door makes him sit up-

“Shit!” you curse, as you stub the toe of your boot against the door, trying to drag your purse in after you. 

“Baby?” Namjoon calls after you. “Y/N?”

When you don’t respond, he stands up and finds you trying to wrench your coat off. There are specs of snow melting in your hair. He glances at the clock again and it’s late. It’s late and yet, like some Christmas miracle, you’ve just come back to him. 

He blinks, getting up from the couch, and for a brief second he catches the surprised look on your face, right before you try to paint over it with another emotion- something more passive and serious. Trying to gauge how you feel from across the room is hard, but he knows he caught you off guard. It’s obvious. You didn’t expect he would still be home-

He stands awkwardly to the side as he watches you place your knit hat and scarf down with your keys. When your eyes finally find him, he swallows hard. He towers over you regularly, but he feels small in your presence right now. 

“I’m just here to get a few things. Julia said I could stay the night if I wanted,” you tell him, your words curt. He’s reminded of how you sounded right before you left him. “I’ll just grab them from the bathroom-” 

Namjoon blearily stares at the spot you were just standing in front of him from. His brain and his eyes are unable to catch up with each other as he listens to the heel of your boots walking from room to room in the house. He watches in silence, feeling awkward as he stands up to get closer to the door. He’s afraid and unsure of what to say, swallowing hard - and running a nervous hand through his hair. On the floor, by the door he can see puddles of water where your boots were wet from the snow. He doesn’t want you to leave again but- 

A second later, you’re standing behind him. He’s afraid to turn around, but he can feel you in the room before he even sees you. He hears your heavy sigh before you cross the first steps to walk past him towards the door, your overnight bag already slung over your shoulder. 

But just as you’re about to reach a hand out for the doorknob, Monie runs past Namjoon- and straight to you. 

“Monie?” you say, brightening as your dog rushes up to greet you. He immediately jumps up on his hind legs to say hi. And that’s when you notice what he’s got on - your fingers tracing his back in disbelief. “Monie, baby, what are you wearing?” 

Namjoon watches as you touch the red sweater he wrestled him into earlier today so they could match. 

You ruffle Monie’s fur and press your head against his, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. When you turn and look at Namjoon again, he can see your eyes are glistening a little. 

“This was you?” you ask him, a soft smile catching on your lips. 

Namjoon nods, taking one nervous step towards you. 

“Here,” he stumbles over to reach for the bag on your shoulder, so he can set it down on the counter next to your purse. “If you want to just spend some time with him before you go. He’s missed you a lot-” 

You hold Monie a little closer to your chest as Namjoon moves to the side so he can close the door after you. Your boots are still wet. 

“Baby - hey,” he says softly, his voice sounds low and resigned, like he’s afraid you’ll turn away from him. “Come here. Let me help you-” 

You watch in shock, growing a little teary eyed and choked up, as he gets on his knees to help unzip you out of your boots. You let Monie jump out of your arms, so you can balance your weight on Namjoon. Your hands are on his broad shoulders for leverage, your gaze moving past his frame when you finally see it. 

“Joon?” His name hangs like a question on your tongue, your eyes wide as they take in the tree he put up, beautifully lit and facing the door, gleaming in red and white. You take a few steps from the door so you can look at it closer. Without turning to him, you blurt out loud- “You decorated?” 

His hands find themselves stuffed into the pockets of his joggers as he crosses to where you’re standing. Namjoon feels small standing in front of you. 

He wants to engulf you in his arms, he wants to touch you so bad. But he’s anxious and the uncertainty keeps his arms glued to his sides. 

Namjoon’s big deep voice chuckles nervously. “I fixed the star. The one on the tree here in the other room- uh, too- You said it was crooked-”

“Baby?” you say, closing the last few inches of distance. He trembles as you touch his face, cupping his cheek. He’s afraid to meet your eyes. Your hands feel cold against his skin, your gloves dangling off your wrist. “Why are you here? Why aren’t you at the studio?”

“I couldn’t- I didn’t want to go. I know it meant a lot to you,” he says, finally meeting your eyes. “All of this. I know it means a lot to you. I couldn’t concentrate…” His voice is full of guilt as his face slumps in your hands. “I didn’t mean what I said, baby. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. It’s not stupid. If something means a lot to you, it can’t be. If you care about it, then I care about it too because I love you.”

You’re silent for a second as you process what he just said. 

“So you didn’t just make up some lie to get out of going to the party with me?” You laugh softly at the stricken look on Namjoon’s face, your thumb stroking across his jaw. “David - one of Julia’s friends- he said that’s what you were probably doing.”

“I- no. No. Baby - I wouldn’t lie to you-” the words come out of his mouth in a panicked rush. 

You laugh softly again, your fingers moving to his cheek to tell him you understand. “I told him I didn’t think that was it.”

He shakes his head, his eyes full of some kind of heady combo of guilt and remorse. 

“I was stupid - careless- I made a mistake when - I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry I did. It’s your favorite time of year,” he says in a softer voice. “All you were asking for was for me to be excited for you, to be there for you, just like you’re always there for me.” 

He’s relieved to see you begin to smile, the edges of your mouth lifting up as he apologizes. 

“You came back,” he says, voice full of relief, like this is a revelation he hasn’t gotten used to. He’s beaming between your hands as he smiles. The dimples in his cheeks seem to light his whole face up. 

“Of course I did,” you say, like it was never a question. “I missed you. And besides, I was making everyone at the house miserable moping around about how much I wished you were there.” You stop to laugh, adopting a nagging tone to your voice as you roll your eyes and imitate yourself - “Namjoon would love this. Namjoon hasn’t seen this yet. Namjoon hasn’t tried this yet. If he was here-” 

He has to laugh, relieved, as he drops his face to your shoulder. “I was miserable without you too, baby. Even Monie knew.” Like he knows he has a cue, your dog suddenly appears at your feet again, whining and begging to be pet. You kneel so you’re eye level with Monie and run your hands through his soft white fur and his red knit sweater, your fingers tracing over the little Christmas light design on his back. He yelps happily and bounces up to lick your cheek before you put him in the other room to sleep on his own little bed.

“Show me what else you did while I was gone,” you grin at Namjoon, as he takes your hand in his and tows you into the other room with his arms wrapped around your waist.

“I put up the rest of the ornaments and I turned on the lights. I made dinner,” he smiles, glancing at the ramen packets on the counter. You have to laugh. He’s so grateful you can cook. “I wrapped the rest of the presents. The ones you forgot, for your friends from work-”

“You what?” you say, laughing, squeezing his big hand where he’s clinging to you. He slides his arm around your waist to hug you tighter as you get closer to the tree. Sitting at the bottom are a few presents crookedly wrapped. 

“Namjoon-” you say, taken aback by his effort. Your eyes feel glossy with the display of his sentiments.  He tried, he really tried. And that’s all that you’ve ever wanted. 

“Baby?” 

“Yeah?” you say, your fingers pressed into his chest. Namjoon holds you close, both of his long arms tight around your waist and it’s just the two of you together for just a moment. His forehead sitting against yours, as the Christmas music flows around you. He’s so big, your man, you feel so safe with how tight he’s squeezing you. His heart is beating so rapidly beneath the palm of your hand as he gently sways you to the music. 

“Can you kiss me?” he asks after a long moment, finally opening his eyes. It’s been days since he kissed you. He wants to touch you so much. His eyes rove up and your gaze follows so you can see where he moved some more mistletoe. 

“Mistletoe?” you ask, smirking.

“Please?” he says, smiling as presses his face even closer to you.

You’re giggling as you reach for him, your fingers pulling at his sweater. He has to bend down a little to kiss you, but this is one of your favorite parts about him. It’s like a dance you both know so well. You lean your head up, just as his fingers find your hair and he pulls you close. His other hand catches your jaw, his long fingers cupping your face so you have to lean up to find his mouth. 

His plush mouth presses against your own, locking your lips together. Kissing him is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. You’ll never get used to how soft his mouth is, how full his lips are. He tastes a little like the hot chocolate he had before you came home. And he smells exactly the same. Like his cologne and the cinnamon candle he lit in your absence. He feels like Christmas and home all wrapped in one, everything familiar and exciting all at the same time.

His gravelly voice is moaning into your mouth when you pull him closer, parting his full lips to kiss him deeper, rolling your tongue over his own until he feels like he’s melting into you. Your arms wrap around his neck. You’re overwhelmed with the need to feel him on top of you, his weight against every inch of your skin.

“Namjoon-” you moan when you can finally wrench your mouth away from him. But he doesn’t let you go as easily, his long fingers clutching your hair between his fingers. One of his hands clutches your waist, pressing you more firmly against the solidness of his body. His soft lips simply move down to mouth down your throat. He can’t get enough of you. He’s just missed the way you smell, the way you taste. 

“You even put on the sweater I got you-” you laugh with realization, hands clenching the end of the sweater so you can slip your fingers underneath the hem of it and touch the firm, warm skin of his tan stomach. 

He laughs too, loud and throaty, cupping your face as he kisses your cheeks. “I’d do anything for you, baby,” he says, his voice low, warm breath tickling your ear. “My heart’s two sizes too small, but it’s all for you.”

You have to laugh as his mouth meets yours again and this time it’s his tongue slipping into your mouth. He shivers as your nails scrape down his belly. 

“I missed you,” you tell him, and the honesty in your voice could break his heart. It’s enough for him to pull away so he can stare into your eyes. You seem to hold all of the love and warmth in the world for him there. It never fails to make his heart feel full. He needs you so much. 

“I missed you too, baby. Want to know how much?”

You nod, kissing him. “Show me,” you whimper. “Touch me-”

It’s soft and slow then, Namjoon’s long fingers peeling you out of every piece of clothing. Unwrapping you like a gift. Kissing your legs as he zips you out of your jeans and peels you out of your turtleneck. When he reaches your panties, he rubs you through the fabric until his fingertips feel wet, then he licks you through the cotton like he can’t help himself, before pushing them down to your ankles. 

Namjoon takes his time taking you apart, first with his fingers and then his mouth, until both his hands and face are glossy with how much you need him and you’re begging him- fingers wound tight around his jet black hair as he eats you out. His temple stings with just enough pain and he loves it. 

His big, soft lips were made for this. Firm enough that you can grind against his mouth, and plush enough that you feel like you can meld with him. He alternates between flicks and swirls against your clit and deep licks inside your cunt, where he stiffens his tongue enough so he can fill your wet, aching hole with it before sliding back up to suck gently at your clit. You can feel how wet you are, his spit and your wetness combined, dripping between your thighs and onto his fingers like nectar. You can hear it too, and that coupled with the noises Namjoon is making - the little gasps and moans he makes as he sucks and licks is too much. When he brings his fingers into the mix, it’s over for you. The sensation on your sensitive clit, while his fingers - three of them - you gasp- fill you is too much and you’re cumming-

“Oh my god - Namjoon-“ 

When you look down at him from between your legs, the image is obscene. His tongue laving at your pussy, his big, soft lips wrapped around your clit as he sucks, his long fingers buried deep inside of you, curving towards that tender part of you that has you screaming. 

“Cum in my mouth, baby,” Namjoon moans. His voice muffled with how deep he presses his face into your wetness. You grind against him just as hard as your orgasm takes you in waves. “Please baby- Let me taste your pussy.” 

Your chest is heaving as Namjoon reaches up to squeeze you between his hands, like he’s trying to prove to himself that you’re really here, groping your breasts and pinching one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger. He only stops when your fingers release their tight hold on his hair. He gives your swollen clit one more gentle suck between his plump lips, feels the way you shiver as he slides his fingers from your soaked pussy and he finally, reluctantly pulls away to crawl up your body. He only stops to get his sweater over his head before he’s back on top of you. 

 “Namjoon,” you cry, fingers trembling as you reach for him. “I need you. I missed you 

so much. Baby please-

“I love you,” he whimpers into your mouth. Tongue so deep in your mouth that you can taste yourself on him.  “I need you too baby-” 

“I need your cock,” you beg. “Namjoon, I want you inside- please. Please fill me up. God, please-” You sound so desperate, he finds it so cute, the way you beg for his cock, like you’re begging him to come home. 

“I’ll give it to you, baby. You have me,” he says. “Fuck. I’m so hard Y/N- I get this hard just eating your pussy, baby.” - he groans, jaw clenched, breath panting against your face. You know he’s cum untouched more than once in the past, just from eating you out. 

“Take it out, baby. Please. Let me see it.” 

Now it’s your turn to tease. You run your red nails along Namjoon’s stomach, loving watching his body tense as you drag them across his honey skin. 

Namjoon hooks his fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants, sliding them down enough to take his cock out. He locks eyes with you once, his beautiful eyes slipping closed only after, when he starts to touch himself.

You smirk when he reveals that he’s not wearing underwear underneath his clothes, something he rarely does unless you’re both home and alone. And his cock is already hard, just like he said. So swollen, you feel like it must hurt him- the way his erection is hanging towards his stomach. 

He looks so gorgeous from this angle. His hair is falling in front of his face. And his thick, muscular thighs are framing his beautiful swollen cock. There’s so much precum already dripping from the tip. You almost want to stop and take him between your lips, you’re dying to lick at the underside of his cock, but decide that you want him hard and inside of you more instead. 

When you lean forward to touch him, Namjoon twitches. He moans just feeling your hands on his thighs, your breath against his cock. He can’t help but pull your hair, he knows you like it - as you make your hand into a fist. 

He lets you touch him. It’s only been days, but it drives him crazy, feeling your hands on his skin. And when he grabs the back of your neck and tilts your head up, he kisses you like he has something to prove. 

You love feeling the heaviness of his cock in your hand. Namjoon moans into your mouth when he looks down to see the way you’re grasping him, hips pushing his cock further into your hand. His own hands are massive, but his cock is so devastatingly thick and long, that it always manages to still look big in his hands. And in your hands- well he won’t hide how turned on he is by how small your fingers look wrapped around him, and always so soft. One of your hands continues stroking him while the other reaches further back to fondle his balls, heavy with so much cum for you. 

“Fuck Y/N-” he gasps into your mouth, mumbling curses against your lips. His knuckles are almost white as he urges you to lay down. “Come here-”

Namjoon moves closer to hover over you, one hand dragging one of your legs over one of his broad shoulders. He leaves kisses against your ankle and calves as he stretches you out. You feel more wetness leaking from your cunt, so turned on by how he’s able to lift you and get you into exactly the position he wants. 

One hand moves under to support your ass, trying to angle you up to take his cock and the other hand is spreading you wide. The warmth from the fireplace feels like it is licking at your skin. Namjoon’s long fingers swirl around your clit, drawing more wet, sweetness from your cunt as he moves. 

Your breath hitches as he slides just the tip of his cock in, getting himself wet with you. He likes taking his time like this, getting every inch of himself wet with you. He can feel it, feel you, from the tip of his cock, all the way down to where you continue to drip, soaking his balls with it.

“Baby, please- Namjoon-” your voice sounds pained, every time he retreats, his hard cock just dragging, dipping shallowly inside of you before leaving again. “Don’t tease- please. Not tonight- I came home for you.”

He kisses you to soothe you. His full lips are so soft, it feels sinful. Your desperation seems to grow, you can’t help but clench your teeth - the drag of just the head of his cock against your clit makes your nipples hard, as he teases you again and again. 

“Oh fuck. You’re so wet,” Namjoon groans when he finally slides all the way inside of you. 

“Namjoon-” the stretch of him leaves you speechless. His cock just feels so good pushing into your body.

You feel so exposed, spread apart like this. Namjoon’s fat cock is splitting you open, with your legs spread, open so wide. But it’s the way Namjoon looks at you that makes you feel the most exposed. The precise, serious look on his face. The way he gauges every breath, every twitch of your skin pressed against his. Sweat is glistening down the long column of his neck, down his chest and stomach. The little whimpers he lets out as he coaxes you closer and closer to cumming on his cock. 

“Your pussy was made for me Y/N-” he tells you. His eyes roll back as he says it. His fingers dip down to slide across the lips of your wet cunt. You look so beautiful spread open and so slick, dripping for him. “Just like I was made for you. My cock- made for fucking you.”

“Y-yes. Belongs to me. Just like I belong with you - to you. Joon-”

“Shit- You love hearing that?” he teases you, his deep voice miraculously dropping even lower as he laughs quietly. You shiver hearing the change in his tone, intertwining with the wet sound of your fucking as Namjoon keeps going. 

“Yes,-” you cry out, nails clenching the pillow behind you. “You’re so big, Namjoon. Hard- Fuck me so good-” 

The pit in your stomach feels like it’s tightening as you listen to Namjoon talk to you- “Fuck yes. I know you do. You’re home now, baby. Where you belong. Geting fucked by my cock- like you deserve. I’m so deep baby, tell me how good it feels-”

“I’m close-Don’t stop-” you warn him, sounding utterly broken. Your spine arches back against the couch, pushing more of your body towards his mouth. He has to wrench his lips away from where they were wrapped around your hard nipple. It aches when he pulls away. 

“I know, baby. I won’t stop,” he promises. “I can feel it. Fuck-” he grunts, his deep voice filling your ear. His lips kissing your face. You turn your face in his palm when he cups your cheek, fingers wrapped around the side of your throat like he owns you. You press your fingers around his wrist, wordlessly reassuring him, telling him to go harder.  The way you trust him implicitly never fails to amaze him. He’s so gone, so completely in awe of you - he swears it makes his dick even harder-

You whimper when you clench around him, walls tight around the girth of his cock. The heaviness of him inside you seems to fill a deep, deep ache. It’s no wonder you always feel empty without him. Your nails dig into his forearms as he continues pounding into you, pushing you deeper into the cushions behind you. 

“You’re gripping my cock, baby,” he moans. “Squeezing around me so tight- fuck. Give it to me. I missed you so much, baby. I missed touching you. I missed kissing you all over. I missed you cumming on me.”

Your hands slide down to touch yourself as you grab both your breasts, feeling the heaviness and pinching your nipples as he fucks you. Namjoon’s jaw falls open, the sight alone makes him cry out. You’re so fucking hot and he’s missed you so much. Missed being around you, inside of you. Fuck.

It’s when your fingers reach between you that he almost loses it. Watching your fingers swirl around your clit- fingers bumping against the base of his shaft every time he slides out of you. His cock comes out pearly and glistening with your juices  every time he slides out. The friction of your hand pressing against your clit and the feel of him filling you to the brim with his cock is about to send you spiraling. 

“Fuck. Yeah, baby. Touch yourself. Keep touching yourself for me. Help me make you cum. I want you to cum on my cock, can you do that for me, baby?”

“Yes-”

He smiles. “Look at me, baby. Yes you can. Did so well. Always take me so good. You came home like a good girl. You look so beautiful taking every inch of me- and now you’re gonna cum so hard, you’re gonna get me wet with it, aren’t you?”

“Y-yes! Namjoon! Don’t stop-don’t stop-please-”

“I know. I can feel it. Cum. I’ve got you. I’ll take care of you, baby. I’m here for you. I’m here-“

It hits you hard, makes you feel like your body was struck. You feel breathless, weightless. 

“That’s it baby, that’s it,” Namjoon coaxes as you cum, clenching and spasming around his cock so tight. He keeps going, fucking you through your orgasm. His hands press you more solidly against him when you try to squirm. He wants you to take everything you need from him. “Keep going-” 

When you come back down, your thighs are still shaking when you reach for him. He lets your legs down to fall around his waist. Your hands slide down to touch more of him, nails digging into his skin, grabbing handfuls of his ass to shove him in deeper, feel him closer. 

“Cum,” you moan into his mouth. You grasp his face so he’s looking into your eyes when you say it and he starts moving again. “Please Namjoon. Cum-”

You clench your teeth, grinding up against him as he starts to do exactly like you told him, and he starts fucking you through the last remains of your orgasm, just as you feel like he’s going to send you teetering through another one so soon- 

“Oh fuck-baby,” he gasps. “Yes. Yes. Take it-all”

He can still feel your walls fluttering around his cock and it feels incredible. Tight and so wet. You’ve been stretched out enough by his fingers and his dick that you can take him harder, his pelvis slamming into you as he keeps thrusting. 

His deep voice is rendered almost speechless, as he whimpers into your neck, “It feels so fucking good baby-”  And he means it. Your pussy, your hands clinging to his back - slick with sweat, your breath and voice in his ear telling him how much you want - no, need his cum inside you. 

You feel it when he swells and then spills - “Fuck baby-” he grunts into your ear, breath panting against your face as he chases his high.

Your hands feel so small against his skin as he keeps thrusting. Your fingers still tight around his waist and his ass as you clench around his cock, trying to milk the last drops of his cum. It goes on for so long, that his body shudders against yours, cock twitching inside of you.

“Fuck, baby, there’s so much-“ Namjoon groans through clenched teeth when he looks down, staring at your pussy, puffy and swollen where his cock is already pushing more of his cum and your juices out.

“Feels so good,” you whine, continuing to roll your hips as he fucks you through it, until it becomes too much. “Feel so full.”

“You’re so messy baby.” There’s a smile in his voice as he teases you. “So fucking full of my cum. You want it?”

God, this man. “Mmmhmm. Every drop belongs to me-”

Namjoon groans. He’s a man of many words, but you’re the one person in the world that can render him speechless with just a few. “Fuck. I love you Y/N.” He drops his face into your neck, grinning. 

You can still feel Namjoon, still half hard inside of you. But he doesn’t move to pull out just yet, instead winding his arms tighter around you. 

“I’ll clean us up,” he says. “I promise. I just want to hold you for a sec.” He’s not ashamed to admit he’s missed feeling close to you. 

You look so beautiful beneath him like this. The Christmas lights flashing against your naked skin. You're still trembling a little as you catch your breath. Your hands, red nails framing your face. Sweat glistening on your skin. Your hair is wet from the melting snow and sweat. 

He touches his thumb against your bottom lip and you smile, kissing his fingers, your eyes still closed. His mouth finds yours, as he kisses you and kisses you. They’re the softest lips you’ve ever tasted. 

“Merry Christmas, baby.” And you have to open your eyes and lift your head up to look at him to truly capture the enthusiasm in his voice. He looks happy. Like the Christmas spirit perfectly captured in the warmth of his smiling, dimpled face. “I love you,” he says.”Thank you for coming home.”

“I love you too.”

“I want to come over for photos,” he says after a moment, while you trace his face, absentmindedly brushing his black hair with your fingers. “I want to come over and have Christmas dinner and see everyone and go look at lights.”

Your gaze softens as you stare at him, slowly comprehending what he is telling you. 

“I want to go to the studio with you,” you say quietly.

“Baby- No- It’s your favorite day of the year-”

“It is,” you tell him. “We’ll do photos and presents. We’ll eat. And we  can also take dessert back with us. We can come back to your studio for a little while after. We can look at some lights on the way home. I want to see you- I want to be alone with you and make up for the last few days, Namjoon. I shouldn’t have ran off-”

“You did the right thing,” he says softly. “We needed time to cool off and I needed to give you space. I needed to realize I was being an asshole and not understanding you.”

“It’s not a big deal-“

And Namjoon shakes his head as you try to deflect. “Don’t do that. Don’t say that. It is, baby. If it’s important to you, it’s a big deal. And it should be important to me too. I don’t want to miss important days because of work. It will always be there when I get back. But you-“

“Namjoon-“

“You’ve always been more understanding than I deserve. I want to celebrate with you” He’s lost in his own silence for a little before he speaks again. “Let’s call it a truce?” he says.

“A compromise,” you tell him simply. And his smile is so big, his dimples so deep, you can’t help giggling when you reach up halfway to kiss him again. 

“Dinner. Photos. Presents,” he says.

“Mmm hmm,” you reply around his full lips. You’ll really never get enough of kissing him. “Studio. Dessert. Lights. Then I’m taking you home.”

“I love you,” he tells you again, kissing you deeply. 

“I love you too, Joonie,” you say. You smile as he holds you closer, tighter. “Merry Christmas, baby.” 

_

Thank you for reading! Merry Christmas. I hope you have a good holiday wherever you are.

Please like and reblog if you enjoyed what you read. You can also find me @kissesinthekitchen on AO3!

[writingduhh]

Jschlatt || Deck The Halls

Inspired by my pookies love for christmas @lvrj4mie 😭❤️

Gradually, you rouse from your slumber, your ears catching the familiar strains of Mariah Carey's "All I Want For Christmas" echoing throughout the house. A sigh escapes your lips as you reach for your phone on the bedside table, its bold white numbers revealing the unwelcome truth.

"9:00 AM, December 1st," you muttered, rubbing the bridge of your nose.

Your boyfriend, Schlatt, didn't just love Christmas; he absolutely adored it. Without fail, on the first day of December, his Christmas spirit would explode. The entire house would transform into a festive wonderland, with red and green lights, oversized stockings, a beautiful Christmas tree, and festive garlands appearing as if by magic.

Suddenly, a terrible shrieking sound emanated from the kitchen. Was the kettle boiling? Was there an animal in the house? After a moment, you realized it was Schlatt, singing his heart out to the blaring Christmas tunes.

Grabbing one of his oversized hoodies from the floor, you made your way to the kitchen, the music growing louder with each step.

"All I want for Christmas isssss YOUUUUUUU!" He screamed off-key, using a wooden spoon as a microphone.

"J, what are you doing? It's 9 AM on a Saturday," you grumbled, pressing the mute button on the speaker he had set up.

"Did you forget? C'mon, y/n, you can't forget!"

"I know, I know," you chuckled, hugging his shirtless torso from behind.

"Uh... Are those gingerbread men?" you questioned, pointing down to his festive-colored boxers.

"Of course, what else would I be wearing?" he playfully scoffed, holding out the fabric to show you.

"Well, they're great," you said, hugging him once more.

After having breakfast and taking a refreshing shower, it was time to deck the halls.

"Okay, first on the agenda is the tree, of course," he happily declared, pulling out the massive box holding the tree.

With Christmas music filling the air, you set up the tree. You and Schlatt had decided on a faux Christmas tree to avoid the mess and maintenance of a real one. Together, you opened the box and carefully unpacked the various sections. Piece by piece, you assembled the tree, fluffing out each branch to give it a full and lush appearance. Once it was securely in its designated spot, you stepped back to admire your handiwork.

"Perfect! Now, time for decorating!" he exclaimed, pulling out a big box of decorations.

One by one, you pulled out the beautiful ornaments, placing them delicately on the branches. With snow falling gently outside the window, Schlatt humming along to the ambient Christmas music, and the fireplace crackling, you felt completely at peace.

"There, the last ornament," he announced, placing the glass object on a tree branch.

Grinning, you sleepily draped your arms around his torso, resting your head against his shoulder. He responded with a gentle kiss on your forehead, wrapping his arms snugly around your waist.

"It looks beautiful."

"Just like someone I know," he remarked, kissing your forehead again.

Taking in the beautiful scene, you became aware of the increasing challenge of keeping your eyes open. He smiled adoringly at you before suddenly sweeping you off your feet. You let out a surprised laugh as he carried you towards your shared bedroom.

"What're you doing?"

"Taking my baby to bed. You've been up since 9 AM."

"You realize that's a normal wake-up time, right?"

"Shhhh, you're not making sense because you're so tired," he teased, gently setting you on your side of the bed.

He drew back the duvet, creating a cozy space for you to crawl beneath the covers. Once you were settled in, he pulled the covers up to your neck, tucking you in snugly. The softness of the blankets enveloped you like a warm embrace, and you couldn't help but smile at his thoughtfulness.

"Goodnight, sleep well," he cooed, placing a soft kiss on your lips before turning toward the door.

"Wait, where are you going?" you pouted, emerging from your blanket cocoon.

"Oh, I was just going to finish setting up..."

"Can you come to sleep?" you begged, giving him your best puppy eyes.

"How can I say no to that face?" he chuckled, making his way to the opposite side of the bed and crawling under the sheets.

Immediately, you scooted closer, cuddling against his side. Contentedly sighing, he pulled you on top of him, his arms enveloping you in a warm embrace.

The warmth of his embrace and the softness of the bed enveloped you in a cozy cocoon of comfort. His scent, a mixture of his favorite cologne and the faint aroma of fresh pine from the newly decorated Christmas tree, provided an inviting atmosphere. It was the perfect respite from the whirlwind of holiday preparations that had taken over the house.

[vaggietheangel]

Randome headcannons that have nothing to do with each other

Vaggie punches inanimate objects when she bumps I to them. She got hit by the door of the closet once, so she ripped it off the hinges.

Angel is a TERRIBLE driver. He would laugh if he flipped the car over into the ditch and says he's so silly. He smokes, does his nails, makeup, and calls Cherri when driving on a highway.

Niffty is a mean drunk. She will make fun of you but in an accurate way. She will get to the thing that you don't like about you and laugh at you for it. She made Alastor well up.

Charlie eats flinestone vitamin gummies. But she eats two at once, so they "don't die alone." She also eats gingerbread men head first to "end thier suffering".

Alastor only watches one modern movie and chooses it every time Charlie says it's his turn for movie night. It's human centipede.

Sir pentious snitches om Angel for breaking rules. He refers to it as "tomfoolery".

Charlie will raise her hand in the air and say "I've had it up to here with you!" When she's angry.

Mimzy mistook Niffty for a child when they first met and gave her money for ice cream. She used it to buy a can of deodorant and a lighter. Then set a cockroach on fire with it.

Vaggie uses rosemary oil to make her hair grow faster.

Husk punched a mirror when he was drunk because "some stupid bastard was staring at me."

Angel teaches Sir pentious to use slang incorrectly bc he thinks its funny. Sir pentious says "this was a millon dollar pussy my good Sir. :)" when leaving a tip at a restaurant.

Cherri has a cookie monster tattoo on her ass.

Husk puts his phone in the fridge when it overheats.

Vaggie sticks her leg out to trip people over when they make her mad.

Charlie buys the bruised fruit because she feels bad for it. "If I don't buy it no one else will! 🥺" She also feels bad for the sweets that are left at the bottom of the box.

Angel Dust:Ah, its only the shit ones left.

Charlie:Angel, that's so mean!

Angel:???

Niffty slaps Alastor upside his fuck ass Bob and says "I like your cut g."

Angel skitters like a spider when he's frightened.

Vaggie gets embarrassed when she cries in front of people. So she gives them a warning to not tell anyone or she will stab them.

Husk is easily fooled by ai images. Niffty showed him an ai picture of a baby skydiving. He put on his old man glasses and grumbled about how parents are so irresponsible these days.

Niffty kept putting roaches in Vaggie’s victrion dollhouse. So Vaggie threw her out the window.

Charlie acts out safety psa's for her redemption workshops. She explains how to defuse a violent situation in the form of a "sailor moon" says" short."

Angel Dust is embarrassed of his older porn. He thinks the acting is cringe. So when he tries to show one of his newer movies to the staff Vaggie air drops one of his old porns to the TV.

Niffty likes to stick her finger into plug sockets. She likes "the tinges." Charlie had to pry her away from it several times.