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covenofagatha · 3 days ago

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A dance with death (and her wife) (Part 1)

@lanfear-is-my-darkmistress

You are a profiler for the FBI when you get called to help catch a serial killer in Westview. (Killing Eve/Hannibal AU)

Word count: 4200

Warnings: descriptions of violence, fear

The phone rings at 7:30 in the morning on your day off and you want to throw it against the wall.

You had been sleeping – having a very good dream, actually – when the harsh ringtone roughly jolts you out of your slumber.

“Hello?” you answer groggily, rubbing your face with your hand. If it’s a spam call, you think you might lose your mind.

“Is this Agent Y/L/N?” A gruff voice asks and you shoot up out of bed into the sitting position.

You clear your throat and try to sound professional. “Um, yes, this is she. Who am I speaking with?”

“This is Director Hayward,” the man says, and your eyes widen. The head of the FBI is calling you. “Have you heard of the town of Westview?”

Your forehead wrinkles while you rack your brain for anything that sounds familiar. “No, sir, I don’t think so.”

There’s muffled sounds from the other side of the phone and then you can hear Director Hayward clearly. “It’s a small town in New Jersey. Nothing special, nothing too out of the ordinary.” He pauses like you’re supposed to recognize it, but after a moment of silence he sighs and continues. “About seven months ago, we believe a pair of serial killers moved into town. Bodies started piling up, seemingly no rhyme or reason to who was killed, only that the victims were all female.”

“Okay,” you say slowly, trying to wrap your head around all this. If it’s been going on for this long, why haven’t you heard about it? “Are we sure they’re connected if there’s no pattern of victim? Usually men have a type when they do this kind of thing; the women usually look like an ex-lover who broke their heart, or their mom.”

You can practically hear him roll his eyes through the phone. “They were all killed the same way: poison to sedate them and then their hearts were carved out. And there was a purple azalea left in every single one of the victims’ chest cavities. So we’re pretty sure they’re connected.” Sarcasm drips copiously from his tone and you wince. Way to make a good first impression on the director of the FBI. “And it’s not a man. It’s a woman.”

This makes you perk up with interest. “Oh?” As a profiler for a branch of the FBI in Miami, you’ve handled your fair share of serial killers. It may make you sound insensitive, but you were only really interested in the female ones. Men were so boring and predictable. Women knew how to make it a challenge, and there was always some deep, underlying motive for why they did it. There was nothing you enjoyed more than piecing together that puzzle.

“They’re calling her The Witch. The poison used on the victims is like nothing we’ve ever seen before, so we think she must be making it herself. But since female serial killers are kind of your thing–”

You cut him off before you can think twice, thoughts whirling through your head. “How do you know it’s a woman? Cutting out a heart, that takes a lot of strength. Most female serial killers tend to use gentler methods, like poison, so it makes sense that there’s at least one woman involved. Are you sure she isn’t working with someone though? Lavinia Fisher would poison her victims and then her husband would finish the job.”

“How quickly can you get to Westview?” He asks, completely ignoring your question.

“Oh, you want me to go there?”

He scoffs. “Yes, Agent, we want you to go there. I’ve already informed your boss and he’s given his approval. No one has been better at catching the female killers than you, so we really need you on this. You can take the Miami jet as soon as you’re ready, but they want you there as soon as possible.”

“Will I be working with the Trenton branch?”

“Just the Westview PD for now. They’ve assured us that they have their best detectives on the case. But if you need backup, let us know and we can send in some more profilers. Whatever it takes to bring this woman to justice.” He hangs up without another word and you grab your to-go suitcase that you keep packed for times like these. You throw in a few extra sets of clothes just in case it takes longer than expected, and then you’re out the door, driving to Headquarters.

You walk into your boss’s office and knock on the door. The director of the Miami branch, Tony Stark, looks up at you. “Hope you packed some warm clothes,” he says and you chuckle. You definitely did not.

“Hayward said I could take the jet?”

Tony nods. “It’s out back and already fueled up. Good luck, kid. Be careful, okay?”

You scoff. “Careful? I’m always careful.” He fixes you with a stern look and you acquiesce. “I promise.”

“I don’t need to remind you what happened last time you worked on a case like this, do I?”

It hits you like a punch to the gut and you shake your head. “No, sir, you do not.” But you know he’s going to tell you anyway.

“That woman destroyed you,” he hisses. “You got so focused on finding her that you stopped eating and sleeping. The obsession completely consumed you.”

“I caught her, didn’t I?” You mutter, knowing full well that isn’t his point. He slams his hands down on his desk and you jump.

“She almost killed you,” he almost yells and your face twists at the memory.

The Scarlet Killer terrorized Miami about three years ago before you finally brought her down. At first, she would sneak into houses of families with twins and slit the parents’ throats and kidnap the kids, but the twins would always resist so she would end up killing them too.

After a while, she stopped caring about the twin aspect and started killing anyone with children.

You had spent days in the office, pacing and pouring over the evidence board, trying to make sense of it. There was no DNA anywhere, but there was also no sign of forced entry, so you figured that she was invited into the house somehow. The hunt for children made you think she had lost her own, or had some sort of abusive childhood that made her want to protect kids. She was possibly a twin as well, and very amicable if people were having her over willingly.

It took two months before you figured out the perimeter of her murders. She was making a hexagon shape with the houses of the victims. Hexagons can represent balance, so you figured she felt as if she was balancing out some score with the universe for something that had happened to her.

And then one fateful night, you realized where her next target was. A family had just moved into a house perfectly on the border of the hex, as people around the office started calling it, and they had twins.

You spent almost an entire week camped out in front of their house waiting for the Scarlet Killer to strike. You think during that time, you slept a total of ten hours. Hallucinations plagued you and you would doze off and then wake up babbling something about catching her. Agents would bring food by your car and beg you to take a break, but you kept your eyes strained on the house, determined that you wouldn’t let her get away with it again, determined to prove that you were right about where she’d be.

And you were.

Except the knocking that should’ve been on the front door of the house, the knocking that would inevitably lead to more death, was on your car window.

You had jolted awake to find a redheaded woman standing there, looking worried. You opened the door and got out to help her when she had pulled a knife out and stabbed you in the stomach.

Thank god she didn’t go for her usual M.O. of slitting throats.

You were able to weakly unholster your gun and take a shot at her as she was running away and by the yelp, you knew you had hit her. A consolation prize as your vision faded to black.

Somehow, you woke up two days later in a hospital room, Director Tony Stark by your bedside. They had caught the killer a block away thanks to the appendix your bullet had ruptured that rendered her unconscious, a woman named Wanda Maximoff, who had lost her twins in a horrible house fire, and made it a mission to try and replace them.

And her knife had missed anything important, and all you had was a nasty scar and the weariness from everyone else whenever there was a new female serial killer to catch.

“She didn’t kill me though,” you tell Tony, who rolls his eyes. “I’ll be careful. I won’t get too involved this time.”

He slides open a drawer and takes out a file and a business card that he holds out to you. You reach across the desk to grab the two and you scan the card.

Rio Vidal, Therapist, Westview. With an email and phone number.

You hold it up and raise an eyebrow. “You want me to see a shrink?” You already completed your mandated fifteen hours of therapy after the Maximoff incident and you weren’t eager to go back.

“You don’t have to, it’s just so you have an option. In case you feel yourself becoming too ‘involved.’”

You purse your lips but you slip it into your pocket and tighten your grip on the file. “Guess I’ll see you whenever we catch her.”

He salutes you and you make your way to the jet out back.

It’s a three hour flight and you spend your entire time pouring over the case file. You know there’s still some information that you’ll have to get from the Westview PD, like witness statements and exclusive photos that haven’t been released yet, but what you do have is brutal.

Photos of shriveled up bodies with barely any skin still on their bones, their cheeks hollowed out, like something sucked the life out of them. Not to be sexist, but you can tell why Director Hayward thought it was a woman.

Although there’s a gaping hole in their chests where a heart used to be, the cuts are neat, precise. And the blood has been completely cleaned up. What should be the bloodiest crime scene you’ve ever seen is void of any fluid, like the killer methodically mopped and bleached and cleansed the scene of everything. But this also means that the victims are dead before the heart is cut out, from the poison.

The most chilling thing is the singular, perfect flower placed in the cavity of their chest.

You flip through the toxicology reports but can’t really make sense of anything. One report says one chemical was the cause of death, another report says another. The levels of chemicals in the bloodstream are also different from victim to victim.

It reminds you of Jolly Jane Toppan, who would experiment with different medicines and chemicals to murder patients at hospitals.

Is the killer a nurse? A chemist? You’re able to figure out why she’s called The Witch, because it’s like she’s brewing up potions of sorts, but you have no idea why she would bother cutting their hearts out if she’s killing them with poison.

The precision of the blade also means that her hands are steady. Another reason she could be a nurse.

You flip through the pictures of all the victims – eleven, so far – and the first victim’s cut is just as accurate as the last victim. This woman is either a natural, or this isn’t the first time she’s killed.

Pulling out your computer, you search the database for any serial killer cases that match this same type of crime, male or female. You’re still not entirely convinced she’s working alone.

But there’s nothing. No cold cases, no open cases. She has truly shown up out of nowhere.

You tap your fingers to the tray table, your mind trying to make sense of the details for the rest of the flight.

When the plane lands, you’re ushered into an uber and taken to the motel where you’ll be staying. Your rental car is already in the parking lot. Even though Westview is a small town, it means a lot that they’re giving you all these accommodations.

Your room is complete with a kitchenette, a queen sized bed, and a good sized bathroom. You drop the files on the table, throw your suitcase in the bedroom, and grab your work bag before locking the door behind you.

The rental car is a small sedan that has a strange smell, but it does the job and you drive through the quaint twisting roads to get to the police station. You park up front, take a deep breath, and walk in.

No one stops you or asks what you’re doing here (no wonder this case hasn’t been solved yet) so you make your way to the back where you find the Chief’s office.

He’s a skinny man with a mustache, spots of something that looks like mustard on his shirt, talking to a woman with her back to you. All you can tell is that she has long, dark hair that flows down your back.

“Hi, excuse me?” You say, knocking on the glass door. The Chief stops and the woman turns around to face you and you’re momentarily struck by how attractive she is. “I’m Agent Y/N? The, uh, criminal profiler from Miami? The FBI sent me to help with The Witch case.”

“Oh, shoot, that’s right,” the man says, wiping his hands on his jacket before standing up. “Chief Phil Jones. This is Detective Agatha Harkness–” He motions to the woman standing there who smiles knowingly, raking her eyes up and down your body. “– our best. She’s been working this case day and night.”

“Any leads so far?” You ask her.

“Why don’t I show you what we have so far?” She offers and you nod, following her out of the office and trying not to look at her ass. She takes you into a different room with a bulletin board filled with pictures and string and post-it notes. You squint at it, trying to take everything in, while you hear more people enter the room behind you.

“So, Miami, what do you think?” A man taunts and a few others snicker at him. You ignore him, you’ve been used to this your entire career.

You’re still scanning the board when something catches your eye. The witness statements. They don’t corroborate with each other. From the six people that have seen something, they all agree that the killer had dark hair. But some say it was long, others say just past her shoulders. Some think she was taller and lean, others say shorter and just a little more filled out. There’s a detail from two witnesses that gives you pause though: they say the woman had a mask of sorts on the bottom of her face, almost like a skeleton. The other witnesses make no mention of not being able to see the killer’s entire face.

You tap the papers. “Why don’t the statements line up?”

“Surely you know how unreliable eyewitness testimony is,” Agatha drawls, and when you turn around, she’s watching you carefully.

You frown. “I do know, but it seems like there’s two different people here. So either we have a copycat, which would be unlikely due to there being no change in the level of detailedness from murder to murder, or–” You trail off, chewing on your lip. You’re waiting for someone, Agatha maybe, to finish the sentence, or to tell you you’re being crazy.

“Or?” She prompts like she’s daring you to go on. There’s a look in her eyes, a look you don’t quite recognize.

You give the men in the room a glance. Will they laugh? “I really think we’re dealing with two killers here. Working together. One poisons the victims, the other cuts out the heart. I thought it was a man and a woman, but it seems like two women. They’re obviously very close to each other, and they’ve got it down to an easy routine.”

“Why hasn’t anyone seen two women then?” Agatha asks, but you feel like she’s just guiding you to a realization, rather than criticizing your theory.

You hum, tossing the question around in your head. “Maybe…maybe because they want us to think there’s only one killer? They’ve fooled everyone, even the FBI. Easy to chalk it up to faulty witness statements.”

“Why wouldn’t they try to look alike then?” Agatha presses, and your brow furrows. It’s a good point.

The pictures of the mutilated victims on the board stare back at you while you look for anything you could’ve missed. “Are they toying with us? Do they want us confused? The poison, the cut-out heart, the flower left behind, the different descriptions, it’s like this is a game to them. They’re cocky, they feel confident that they can’t get caught. Maybe both of them are narcissists, but definitely are on the Antisocial Personality Disorder spectrum.”

“Why do you think they do it?” Agatha says in a hushed voice. You can’t help but notice that she seems excited.

Is that because she finally might be getting a break in her case?

“I don’t know,” you admit and she looks disappointed. You spin to face the board again. “There’s no obvious connection or pattern between the victims, so it doesn’t seem like there’s a personal vendetta against them. Nothing stands out about the locations either. It seems like they’re just killing for fun, right now.”

“That’s pretty dangerous,” she says, and you can feel the front of her body brush against your back. You’ve been so entranced that you didn’t even hear her notice her coming over. “That means anyone could be next.”

Goosebumps spread over your body at her hot breath on your neck, but her words sober you up. She’s right. You’re not able to rule out potential victims based on how many kids they have or don’t have, like with Wanda, or what they look like or don’t look like.

“Okay,” you say, nodding your head. “We need to send out a BOLO for two women with dark hair now. Put these descriptions out, tell them to keep an eye out for a skeleton mask? Hopefully we can get some tips and put a stop to this before anyone else gets hurt.”

“What should we call the other woman?” One of the male officers speaks up and you’re surprised that it’s an actual question.

Agatha watches you with interest while you think about it. “How about…Lady Death?” You offer and she gives a nod of approval. “Put a BOLO out for Lady Death and The Witch.”

You make copies of everything that’s on the board and paper clip them together to put in your bag. As you’re packing everything up to go back and leave to the motel (Tony would be proud of you for leaving the station at an acceptable time), Agatha comes over and leans on the table.

“What do you think their relationship is? Lady Death and The Witch,” she says, amusement lacing her tone when she says their nicknames.

You shrug. “Sisters, friends, wives? Maybe they’re just two crazy people who met each other and want to kill people.” She chuckles and studies you curiously.

“You know, we’ve had some other profilers come in, but none of them have been like you. You know your stuff.”

“Female serial killers are kind of my thing,” you say. “There’s just something about untangling the mystery that’s so much sweeter. Makes me feel…alive. Which I know sounds bad, because so many people have died, and I’m sorry.”

Agatha looks like she knows exactly what you’re talking about. “No, don’t apologize. It’s exciting, isn’t it? The exhilaration, the moment when you finally get what you want, what you’ve been working toward.” Her voice is low and you nod, leaning in before you can realize what you’re doing. Your gaze drops down to her smirk and then back to her blown-out pupils. “Do you think you’ll be able to find them?”

“Yeah, I do,” you breathe, and she looks positively delighted. Out of nowhere, the scar on your stomach stings and you grimace. Agatha looks at you, concerned but you brush it off. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then?” You ask, standing up and slinging your bag onto your shoulder.

“See you then, superstar,” she says with a grin and watches you leave.

When you get back to the motel, you spread all the pictures and notes out, trying to connect some dots. You scribble down Friends? Sisters? Lovers? on a sticky note and press it to the wall.

Why do you think they do it? Agatha’s question still haunts you. You don’t want to believe that it’s just for fun, there has to be some meaning, some motive for poisoning and then physically removing hearts. There has to be some significance to the flower left behind.

But what is it?

Your stomach grumbles so you decide to take a step back and go pick up food from a restaurant in town. As you’re pulling out of the parking lot to come back to the motel with wings and french fries, you get a call from Tony Stark. You accept it, taking a sip from your cup quickly.

“Hey, Director,” you say.

“There she is! How’s it going?”

You shrug even though he can’t see you. “Not too bad. Just went and got dinner. See, I’m taking care of myself.”

He laughs like it’s the funniest joke he’s heard. “Glad to hear it. Any new leads in the case?”

“There’s two women, not one. They’re working together.” There’s silence on his end of the line for a second and you wonder if he heard you. “Did you–?

“Yeah, I got that. Shit, so you think you’re looking for partners? I don’t like this,” he says.

“I’m okay, I promise. What happened with Wanda won’t happen this time,” you reassure him as you turn back into the motel lot. “I’ll check in with you whenever you want. I’ll go see that shrink. I’ll be careful.” You’re worried that he’ll pull you off the case if he thinks you’re too obsessed. Your hyperfixation tendencies almost cost you your life, and you know Tony doesn’t want that to happen to you again. He’s become somewhat of a father figure to you since you started working there, and it’s touching how much he cares.

He hums in satisfaction. “I expect you to eat three meals a day and get at least five hours of sleep.” Before you can protest, he continues. “And I want you to make an appointment with that therapist. Just get ahead of your spiral, maybe talking about the case with someone removed will help you be more level-headed.”

“I will,” you vow. “Okay, just got back to the motel, I’ll talk to you later.” He says goodbye and hangs up. When you get out of the car with your food, the hair on the back of your neck stands up and your scar tingles.

Something feels off.

You get to your door to find it slightly ajar and you frown. You remember locking it. Maybe room service cleans at night?

“Hello?” You call, pushing it open. Taking a few cautious steps into the room, you scan from wall to wall looking for anything or anyone.

There’s no one there, nothing seems out of place except for your suitcase that is now on your bed. You tentatively walk over to it and unzip it, jumping back like you’re expecting something to pop out. Inside, you find all the clothes you packed gone, and entirely replaced by a new wardrobe. Pulling them out, you gasp when you find cashmere sweaters and silky blouses and comfortable but professional looking pants. There’s a bottle of perfume with the word “Thanatos” printed in perfect calligraphy and you take a whiff. It smells like flowers and wood at the same time and it makes you think of a forest.

So someone broke into your motel room just to give you some new clothes and perfume? You rustle through the rest of the suitcase and a piece of paper flutters to the floor.

Heart pounding, you lean down to pick it up. It’s the same sticky note that you put on your wall before you left to get food.

Friends? Sisters? Lovers?

Only now, the word ‘lovers’ is circled, with a small heart drawn. You drop the paper like you’ve been burned and run over to where all your case information is and you feel nauseous.

Nothing has been touched. Nothing is out of place.

Except for the single purple azalea resting on the middle of the table.

They were here.

#agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #agatha harkness x you #agatha x you #agatha all along #agatha x rio #agathario x reader #agathario #rio vidal x reader #rio x reader #rio vidal x agatha harkness

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often-daydreaming · 2 days ago

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Wishes

"I just wish I could help him."

Tim sighed, tired eyes staring at the rows of monitors searching for any kind of change as he recalls the last thing he can remember Bart saying to him before everything went to hell when a barrier appeared around Central City cutting it off from the rest of the world. It had taken three days before anyone even realized what had happened and that was only after Barry returned from a mission in space and ran face first into the glowing green monstrosity trapping his friends inside some sort of otherworldly magical nonsense.

And it was kind of depressing that, that was all they knew after two months.

It was pure magic, old, ancient magic that had his friends living out the kind of picture perfect high school drama you'd find on tv and they only figured out that much after Cyborg accidentally picked up a weak signal being broadcast to anyone who got close enough.

That was the only real way anyone had to check up on everyone trapped inside and in a way Tim was kind of glad it was mainly focused on his friends and the meta kid Bart had been trying to introduce to everyone cause he had constant proof they were alive. Everyone else wasn't as lucky.

He was also mostly annoyed though cause the League couldn't even damage the stupid barrier anymore. They'd cracked it once, but that just seemed to annoy whatever was powering the thing because it spread out for miles in every direction in response to the Justice League's attempts at forcing open a door and ended up swallowing dozens of government agents and heroes who couldn't escape the danger zone in time.

"Any changes?"

"None." Like always.

He knew Dick was just as worried as he was about everyone trapped inside but the glowing green eyesore wasn't reacting to anything anymore.

Science didn't work.

Magic annoyed it.

They'd finally started looking into some of the more off world solutions that were available to them but so far nothing anyone tried seemed to affect it and he should know since he hasn't stopped monitoring the situation.

He's offered up rewards, called in every single favor he's ever been owed as Tim Drake and Red Robin and read up on everything magical he could get his hands on.

He's even hacked every government agency on the planet on the off chance there might have been a possible answer hidden away somewhere and was nowhere near as professional or gentle as he usually was while doing it. He was tired, worried and more than a little angry and didn’t care about how much damage he did to anyone's computer systems as he ripped even the slightest bit of information out of any server he came across taking anything and everything from Waller's own notes on the matter to research material from a rogue sect of the government calling themselves the GIW.

That had led him down a rabbit hole of government conspiracies and cover ups that would have normally kept him busy for weeks but he had passed on the worst of it to the rest of the League and focused on the handful of files they had on an off the books company called Fenton Works.

They apparently had a functional portal with more than enough power to punch a hole between dimensions so hopefully an investigation into them would keep him busy while they waited for a response from the Green Lanterns.

-_- -_- -_-

"You need to stop this Desiree."

"Why, Phantom and his paramour are happy aren't they?"

She already knew the answer since it was her magic wrapping such a large area and her grin only grew as she watched Undergrowth's little champion twitch at her words.

Because Phantom was happy.

He was the happiest he's ever been in a very long time and well out of the way on a long overdue 'vacation'. So what if everyone was taking his absence as an excuse to run a little wild. The avatar of the Speed Force didn't mind and Clockwork wasn't interfering either so she wasn't overstepping anywhere that really mattered since the Ancient of Time usually erased anyone who went too far with his favorite student.

He hadn't even popped in to deliver any of his usual threats when she overheard the little speedster's heartbroken wish so she banished the girl back to Amity Park without a second thought.

They couldn't force her to grant wishes anymore, not after Phantom went out of his way to help alter her curse and their constant whining was starting to get annoying.

If it wasn't Undergrowth's champion then it was the Pharaoh or Phantom's sister.

None of them could take the hint and leave well enough alone.

Cause, the thing is, she left more than enough wiggle room in the wish for Phantom to get free if he ever really wanted to get free and she wasn't sure he did.

Oh, on some level he was probably well aware of something being off about the world but he was purposely ignoring that feeling.

He was happy in the world she shaped around him and his little speedster and Desiree wasn't about to ruin that for either of them.

She'd just head back to her lair if anyone tried.

No one could get to her there, not without wasting a lot of power so maybe she'd finally have a little piece and quit to enjoy her favorite show in peace.

It's not much but I wanted to try and think up a way for Danny to experience his very own version of WandaVision.

Essentially a sad Danny from any kind of reason really but for now I'm just blaming his entire life for this one and a desperately trying to be helpful Bart who has vague memories of a future with Danny get a starring role in a new life that was perfectly prepared just for them at the cost of pretty much everyone else.

I don't remember what it's called but there was a Disney movie about a superhero school so I'm kind of imagining that and a lot of really cheesy musical moments thrown in somewhere while everyone outside of the barrier is left worrying about their friends and family.

I know it's weird, but my mind just comes up with really weird ideas when I'm tired.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc prompt #danny phantom #danny fenton #dp x dc crossover

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nmakii · 3 days ago

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must be love

— you find sae’s phone opened, and you decide to snoop.

or; sae gets exposed for being a fake idgafer. this is too sappy. 2.7k words, this is my longest fic in my whole life… what life feels like as a girl who loves too much core

tags: @narcjsistx

— for rhi. love ya, partner.

‘she seems really eager to please,

but she has quite the backbone.’

you huff out in frustration. “ah!! ugh…” you scowl. sae raises his eyebrow. “my groupmate never started on her share of the work… ugh, now i have to cram it..!” you explain your sudden outburst. sae scoffs. “then tell your teacher or something. it’s not like i can do anything about it, im not your teacher.” he, quite obviously, points out. “wh… ugh, i’m gonna… i just— needed to let out my anger.” you groan, face planting and screaming into your textbook. and he hums in response. although he didn’t show it on his face, your outburst was quite out of character for the person he had grown to know. it was… weird, to say the least. and it had caused him to make a mental note not to anger you.

‘her generosity knows no bounds.’

“sae, this is for you. merry christmas!” you hand him a wrapped box. “hm..? i don’t take christmas gifts.” he bluntly states. “i haven’t gotten any gifts since i was 10 years old.” you scoff to yourself. “maybe that’s why you’ve always got that stick in your ass.” you tease. “excuse me?” he glares daggers at you. “aaaanyway! open it!” you shove the box into his hands. he looks at the box, and then at you, and he decides to open it. “new cleats.” he acknowledges. yes, mhm. these were indeed cleats..! “i didn’t need these, i was going to buy them myself.” he states.

“i know, you could probably buy them yourself. but, i thought i’d save you the hassle, y’know?” how thoughtful of you. he eyes the cleats up and down; it’s an expensive brand, but it’s worth the price for the quality. “…thanks.” he says, at last. he didn’t expect a gift from you, he doesn’t have one prepared for you. he’ll make sure to buy you something you’ll love later. “oh! hold on, i wanted to give you some other things ♪~” you fish a keychain and envelope out of your bag and hand it to him.

“…cinnamoroll..?” he questions. “it’s cute right? i thought you’d like it.” what an odd way of thinking… never once has he mentioned anything about cinnamoroll. but then again, it is pretty cute. “…well, i won’t say i hate it. thank you.” he thanks you as he eyes the envelope. “ah, don’t read it in front of me..! i got a bit sappy, it’s pretty. embarrassing…” you awkwardly laugh. “ah, got it.”

later that day, he opened the envelope. there was a letter; it had cute doodles all over. and, he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t feel your affection radiating off the letter. it was… really sweet.

‘what a beautiful human being she is.’

itoshi sae is what you like to call a shy lover, if you were to put it kindly.

you know for a fact that he loves you, he just isn’t good at verbally expressing it. words of affection are too sappy for him. he prefers to show it through the thoughtfulness of his gifts, and the longing touches of his hands, which seem to never leave your’s.

you know he loves you. but, you can’t help but wish for him to say it more often.

it wasn’t many nights lately that the two of you would have a date night. with sae’s rigorous training schedule and endless interviews, the only thing he wants to do at night is to fall asleep beside you.

however, today was the end of the season. meaning, sae would have much more free-time for you.

with sae’s last game for the year completed in 0-4, the first thing he had to do was call you. even though you weren’t far away at all, sitting in the VIP lounge with the relatives and girlfriends of sae’s teammates.

“s/o?” he calls your attention. “mhm? congratulations on your win, babe! i knew you’d win.” you congratulate him. “they could barely keep the ball when they had it. is it really an achievement for me to have won this match?” he says, almost sassily. “pssh— alright. i get it, mr. ‘tepid.’.” you tease.

“don’t call me that.” he huffs. “stay where you are. i’ll go to you.” he commands. you hum in acknowledgment, and he hangs up.

he doesn’t keep you waiting too long before showing up. “there you are…” he sighs in relief, kissing you as his hands automatically find themselves on your body— one tangled in your hair, and the other resting on the curve of your spine.

once he finds the will in himself to finally pull away, he’s breathless.

he looks like he wants to say something, but he holds himself back, his fingers flowing through your hair. “…get ready for our date later tonight, yeah? formal wear.”

you nod, and his lips curl upward. “i’ll see you later.”

you decided to go all out, pull all the brakes. and when sae picks you up in his car, he can’t help thinking that you look like a dream. ‘are you sure you aren’t a model?’ he muses to himself. his heart twists, and the fat of his cheeks redden with affection. your hair flows like silk, and that glimmer in your eyes was once a star, handpicked from the skies, he’s sure of it.

everything about you encourages him to keep staring, but he manages to get ahold of himself. “…you…look beautiful.” is the only thing he can get himself to say. but, beautiful doesn’t seem to encapsulate it, not at all. it’s not even close. beautiful is only a fraction of what he thinks. “heh, you think so?” you ask. “yeah; beautiful.” he assures. “let’s go.” he says, barely turning his attention away from you as he turns to the road.

the drive to the restaurant is quiet, but sae’s mind is screaming at him. his eyes can’t stop moving back to take sneaky glances of you. he drinks up your beauty like a serpent, and he still hasn’t had his fill.

“…we’re here.” he pulls the shift into its’ brake. he gets out, and hands his keys to the valet boy— his words are inaudible through the car door, but he quickly finishes his conversation and moves to open your car door.

you take your first step out, and his hand immediately moves to help you out. god, you might be even prettier under the gleam of moonlight, shining like the pearl of the planet.

his arm moves and snakes around your waist, guiding you into the restaurant under the flash of paparazzi cameras. he grimaces at the loud, pitchy voices of news interviewers, begging for a comment; anything for a headline quote.

the gentle touch of his fingers tighten, as he silently encourages you to walk faster, and lose the crowd. the two of you hurry up, and dash into the restaurant, where you’re greeted with a dim candlelight, mahogany walls, and the rhythmic trumpet of jazz.

“welcome, mr. itoshi.” the receptionist greets. “your table for two is right this way.” she quickly guides the two of you into a secluded part of the restaurant, just like he’s always done as to make sure neither of you are spotted and harassed in public.

lamps hang on the walls, creating a romantic atmosphere. and the curved dark-brown leather booth couch perfectly complements the dark oak roundtable.

the date isn’t too different from the others. the two of you chat about anything that comes to mind. but, it’s actually more like it’s just you chattering on, and sae listening as he admires that excited grin on your face.

on the outside looking in, it’s obvious how he has heart eyes when he stares at you. he’s in a trance as he listens to the rich honeying sweetness of your voice; his finger traces the lines on the roundtable, wishing that it’d be the crinkles of your smile he’s tracing when he blinks and opens his eyes again.

his trance is broken though, when his phone rings. damn it, he forgot to put his phone on do not disturb… “something wrong?” you ask sae, and he takes his phone out of his pocket. “not sure. there shouldn’t be a problem, i cancelled everything for tonight. ugh… just a second, amor…” he remorsefully takes your hand in his as a silent gesture of apology. he took too long to pick up the phone, it already went out…

he opened his call app, and saw that it was from his publicist, dabadie. he groaned before picking up.

“sae! you didn’t mention that you’d be going out on a date today, your paparazzi shot is already all over social medias..!” he worriedly stammers. “i didn’t? well, whatever… it’s just a date photo anyway.” sae shrugs, speaking quietly to ensure that you don’t hear. “right— but… you know the internet… they might criticize you, and say that she’s distracting you from soccer…”

sae is about to correct him— he’s about to say that you aren’t distracting him from his career, but he holds back once he remembers that you’re right beside him, eagerly waiting for his attention to be back on you.

“i… have to speak to you for a second, im already outside the restaurant… the paparazzi didn’t censor out the location well enough either… so, the agency’s security car will follow you two home…” he adds on. sae sighs. “i have to speak to you too. i’ll meet you outside.” he hangs up. he huffs in exasperation and shallowly drops his phone, making it clatter on the table; the screen is left open on his call record. “im sorry, amor… i have to quickly take care of something, i’ll be back soon, i promise.” he kisses your hand.

“hmph, don’t worry. it’s dabadie, right? he’s always worried about something…” you laugh. of course you’d be understanding about it. you always understood. “heh, that he is.” he sasses before leaving the table.

…and you can’t help but notice that his phone is still open.

his phone is practically yelling at you, “check out what’s on me, s/o! check it out right now!”, and you simply can’t resist the temptation to!

first, you simply scroll around at his call record; nothing too interesting, it’s filled with calls from dabadie, and you. as well as occasional calls from his mom. how tepid, as sae would put it. you exit the app, and find his home screen wallpaper to be a picture he took of you; you’re looking out into the distance, the large castle of sleeping beauty in the background.

you smile to yourself at that cute photo, and move to his photos; it’s filled with photos of you, and almost none of him— not unless you were beside him. you scroll down to check out his older photos; they’re childhood pictures, only a few of them are with rin included.

…

…anyways, ‘what is in sae itoshi’s notes app?’, you ponder. you open his notes app.

‘things i want to eat: 1. omelette, 2. paella, 3. pesto pasta’

‘onitsuka tiger mexico - kill bill/grey, new balance 2002r - grey, asics gel NYC - oyster grey’

‘laundry’

‘i love you’

you laugh at the randomness of his notes, quickly scrolling through them. it’s true when they say that a boy’s notes is truly random.

but that last note catches your eye. it’s a pretty odd note that just says ‘i love you’ with no additional text. and, it makes you wonder.

sae’s an organized person, more or less. so, his notes must be filed too. and, you’re correct. there are three files; ‘lists’, ‘important documents’, and a file with your initial as its’ name.

the other two don’t seem as interesting, nor seem as mysterious. so, you click on the mysterious file.

and, the file is filled with everything about you; he’s written down your birthday (including the time…), your family members’ names, foods you like to eat when you aren’t feeling well, shows that you like to watch… everything.

and, there’s a note that catches your eye. it’s a cut-off sentence, since it was too long. you decide to feed your curiosity and click on the note.

‘she talks to everyone, even the people she doesn’t like.

it takes a lot to piss her off.

she’s always kind to me, after all.

she seems really eager to please, but she has quite the backbone.

she works really hard, but i don’t think many see it.

her generosity knows no bounds, and she always knows what kind of joke to make.

i didn’t think it was possible for a soul to be so beautiful.

nor, that someone like i would meet a soul like her’s.

but, im grateful to the stars above that i met her.

someone as kind as her deserves to receive all the love she gives.

i don’t think she knows how loved she really is though.

what a beautiful human being she is.

there simply isn’t enough words to describe the way her dimples crinkle when she’s happy.

the day she was conceived, the gods must’ve tenderly sculpted her heart out of ivory and gold.

the way she enamors everyone in the room simply by walking inside, and the way her personality shines in her rushed, yet sweet handwriting.

one day, i hope she’ll finally be perpetually happy.

so, that she can always shine that enchanting smile of her’s.

she deserves all of it.’

was this a poem..? it didn’t seem like it, it didn’t rhyme, and the stanzas didn’t have equal amounts of lines… but, the way he worded it out almost made it seem like he was a poet.

you don’t… even know what to think at such a romantic confession. it’s certainly much more than sae has ever verbally said to you. but, the fact that he had written this with you in mind makes your heart pound like crazy.

you’ve always known that sae loves you, but seeing his private thoughts all written out for you to read was… overwhelming.

“going through my texts, amor? i’m not texting any other woman besides you.” sae nonchalantly jokes. shit— time went quicker than you’d thought. “ah, nn… just got a bit curious, babe…” you hum. “what were you looking at..?” he asks, and his eyes widen the moment he sees what you were reading. out of all the things on his phone, that was the last thing he wanted you reading.

he embarrassedly closes his phone. “so… what was all that writing about..? were you trying to be a poet?” you jokingly ask; you knew that sae wasn’t mad, per say… he was probably just embarrassed. “n..no… it was, ah…” he clears his throat. “it was just… something i typed out when i realized i had many observations about you that i needed to write down. i just got sidetracked while i was typing.” he explains.

you smile, your entire body feeling like you’re on fire. the love you feel for sae itoshi feels like too much to contain in your heart. “it was really sweet, sae…” you assure him. for some reason, you have the odd incentive to just… cry right now. you love him so much.

“i know. but, it’s also too sappy.” he huffs. “aw, don’t be so shy… i know you’re just a huge softie under that tough surface…” you tease, moving closer to cuddle up to his side. “im not soft. i just love you, okay?” he groans. “don’t make me say embarrassing things.”

your smile widens, making him look at you with that lovesick look in his eyes. “aww… well, i guess i know how much you love me now anyway, so that’s good enough..!” you mentally fist pump at this small victory.

the atmosphere suddenly feels light again as you start to chatter again, teasing him slightly before going back to what you were speaking about before he had left. and still, sae’s looking at you like you’re the world cup trophy, like you’re all he’s dreamed of.

and sae thinks…

‘…you’ll know how sappy i can get when it’s our wedding day.’

but he should save that for another 5 years, or so.

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk #bllk fluff #blue lock sae #bllk x you #bllk x reader #bllk sae #sae itoshi x y/n #sae itoshi x you #sae itoshi #sae itoshi x reader #itoshi sae #blue lock sae itoshi #sae itoshi imagines #itoshi sae imagines

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retrosabers · 12 hours ago

Text

𝐰𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐝.

FICMAS DAY 5 - UNWRAPPING

A RETROSABERS X PANDAPETALS DOUBLE FEATURE

old man logan x fem!reader

summary: logan didn’t believe in exchanging christmas presents. so, you offer him something you know he can’t refuse. a night where’s he’s free to have you all to himself.

contains: 18+ content below the cut. MINORS DNI. making out, some dry humping if you squint, oral (fem receiving), implied age gap, a dash of angst, swearing

word count: 2.6k

a/n: you thought i’d let a whole season pass without a little taste of some festive smut? absolutely hilarious. this is my first time writing for old man logan, and i think i did pretty alright considering i have yet to watch the movie (i’m terrified of the pain it will bring)

any feedback is always greatly appreciated!

also, don’t be confused by the fact that this says day 5 when i still haven’t posted day 4, i’m writing these bad boys out of order

and finally, a huge shoutout & thanks to the wildly talented @pandapetals for agreeing to do a little collaboration! please go check out her blog and all of her amazing work! <3

FIND HER PART HERE

!! divider by @estrelinha-s !!

FICMAS MASTERLIST

“are you sure your eyes are closed?”

logan grunts. “they’re closed, darlin’. promise.”

he’s been sitting here for almost fifteen minutes now, waiting for you to bring out this so-called “surprise.” from the ambient lighting and freshly washed bed sheets, the man thinks he’s got a general idea of what it is, but you’ve been fiddling in the bathroom too long for him to be certain.

still, he appeases you, and waits patiently at the foot of your bed. even if it’s a little bit uncomfortable on his knees.

meanwhile you’re fussing over every little detail of your appearance in the groggy bathroom mirror.

this was your solution to getting around logan’s “i don’t need anything for christmas” rule. you always begrudgingly abided by it, save for the box of cigars that always mysteriously turnt up in his nightstand on christmas eve. you knew he could never turn it down, no matter how much he tried.

logan could never say no to a smoke break with a nice pack of cubans. and he most certainly couldn’t say no to you.

that's how you decided upon this whole scheme. dolling yourself up and donning a new set of lingerie themed to the occasion, knowing logan had no leg to stand on. because technically, you didn’t buy anything for him. you bought this for you. he just so happened to be the person who was going to help take it off.

or rip it off, knowing your man’s track record of impatience and eagerness.

you share the exact same sentiment, though your tendency to be anile overpowers all else. you know it doesn’t matter if you have a hair or two out of place, or if your lips are slightly over lined. perfection never mattered to logan, but it still didn’t stop you from doing everything in your power to be pretty damn close to it tonight.

even if it meant making him wait a few extra minutes.

you pay your reflection one final glance before sauntering out into the bedroom.

he smells you before he hears you.

your scent wafting into the room captures his attention more than anything else. logan’s senses may not be as keen as they once were, but the fragrance of you was something utterly unmistakable. a sweet yet sultry aroma that he ached to have on his skin, his clothes, anywhere, to keep him grounded. to remind himself that you were real and you were his. it only adds to the anticipation building inside, the mere seconds he has to wait dragging on like hours in his mind.

a wave of lust overtakes you as logan comes into view. somehow just the sight of him is enough to send a bout of arousal down to your core.

that crisp white dress shirt he always wears is unbuttoned at the top, sleeves rolled up to reveal those chiseled forearms you love to have wrapped around you. the soft glow of the lamp on the bedside table illuminates the weathered curves of his face so beautifully. a contrast to the ruggedness of his position; legs lazily spread wide and long, thick fingers tapping mindlessly against his thigh.

the picture of a real man. and he’s all yours for the taking.

the sound of your footsteps padding against the floor grows louder. obediently, logan’s eyes stay shut, despite the fact that the other aroma you carry is hot and heavy in his nostrils. his upper lip twitches with a knowing smirk.

so this is exactly what he had in mind.

on instinct, his thighs spread even further when he senses your approach, hands itching to find their place on you somehow. when your own stay glued to your sides, he takes that as his cue to do the same.

logan really hates to admit it, but there’s something about this little bit of mystery that’s got him going before you’ve even begun.

“you ready?” your voice comes out breathy, and if logan didn’t know any better he’d think you’re nervous. and truth be told, you were. not that logan wouldn’t get his kicks, you were certain of that. more so that you’d be unable to walk come tomorrow morning.

though neither of you would consider it a bad thing

“yes ma’am,” he grumbles in response, knowing exactly the effect it has on you. the cockiness on his face is inevitable when he hears your breath hitch.

tease. if that’s how he wants to play, you’re in for a long night.

with a quiet sigh, you splay your fingers over the expanse of his broad shoulders. the man takes it as permission, calloused palms wrapping around your calves and not daring to travel any further. he knows he’ll lose any remaining self control if he gets so much as an inch closer to the apex of your thighs.

“okay.” you murmur. “you can open your eyes.”

slowly, those dark irises begin to drink you in. his grip on you tightens as soon as he gets the whole picture, a visible tent forming in his dress slacks almost immediately.

logan thought you were the most beautiful women he’s ever seen under any conditions. didn’t matter if you were sick, if you were bare faced, none of that changed how otherworldly you looked in his eyes. but nothing, and i mean nothing, compared to the sight of you before him right now.

you look like something out of a dream. hair styled in a way that drives him particularly crazy, makeup done to highlight your features so elegantly in the dim light. the best, and quite possibly logan’s favorite part, however, is that your lips are painted a shade of red to perfectly match the ensemble adorning your body. it sparks a slideshow of rather lewd images in his brain, wanting the color scattered across his cheek, his chest, his cock. anywhere you’re willing to brand him.

he’s committed every inch of you to memory by now. countless nights of exploring, mapping out your curves with hand and tongue. and still, everytime he sees you like this, practically offering yourself on a silver platter, he can’t help but stare back as though this is the very first time.

especially when that crimson silk is accentuating your figure so nicely.

“do you like it?” you ask coyly, bottom lip tucked between your teeth like you’re not fully aware of the power you have over him.

logan scoffs out a laugh, dragging his hands higher and higher until they tug at your hips, pulling you to straddle his lap in one swift motion. you squeak at the sudden display of strength, forgetting that despite his age, he was still infinitely stronger than any man you’ve ever met.

even beneath the layers of fabric between you, the sheer size of him was impossible to ignore. fuck, and he wasn’t even fully hard. you bite back a moan at the outline of his length pressed between your legs.

“that answer your question?” he quips back lowly, smirking smugly.

you hum in content, pressing your hands further into his shoulders as you experimentally grind your hips. the pair of you preen at the contact, desperate for any form of relief after being pent up and waiting.

“careful,” logan grits out in warning. “gonna cum in my pants like a fuckin’ teenager if you keep that up.”

you tsk in response, cocking your head with faux concern. “can’t have that, now can we?”

logan shakes his head at your antics, eyes wandering back over your body once more. before tonight, his favorite set of lingerie you owned was a black lacy number. simple and classic. but the more time he spends inspecting what’s currently adorning your frame, the more he thinks that red might be his new favorite color.

something warm spills over him when he glances at your chest again. something different than what he normally experiences every time he catches a glimpse of your cleavage, anyways.

“is that a bow?” he questions, a little bit amused.

you let out a soft giggle, nodding in reply.

“wanted you to be able to unwrap your present.”

you can count the amount of times logan has laughed, really truly laughed, on one hand. and as much as it sounds like music to your ears, you’re rather confused as to why he’s laughing right now.

“what’s so funny?” you huff, brows knit together and bottom lip jutted in a near pout.

logan averts your inquiry, burying his face in your neck so you can’t see him grinning like an idiot. instead, he busies himself with dragging his lips up and down the column of your throat, reveling in the breathy moans spilling from your lips with each and every press against your skin.

from the moment you met logan howlett, you fantasized about that salt and pepper beard. longed to feel the delicious sting of scruff against every part of you. as addicting as it is, the sensation isn’t enough to keep you completely distracted.

“logan,” you whine, titling your head back to grant him more access. “m’serious.”

he doesn’t halt his ministrations, too consumed with making sure your neck is painted every shade of lavender under the sun. he only stops when you rake your fingers in his hair and physically pull him off, much to both your dismays.

you give him a look. that pursed lips, narrow eyed “what aren’t you saying to me” look that signals he’s going to have to fess up to whatever’s on his mind, or else the evening would be coming to an end right here and now. from the way he’s about to burst through the zipper on his dress slacks, you know he’s not considering weighing options.

logan sighs heavily. if you didn’t know all the variations of the sound, you’d think he was upset with you. but that was far from how the older man felt. he begins to examine your face, observing everything from the slopes of your bone structure, to the color of your irises. he studies your features like an artisan in a gallery, content on not missing a single detail.

after a moment, the corners of his mouth turn up a hair. eyes almost dopey; filled with a lovesickness he never thought could be possible.

“you’re somethin’ else, y’know that?” he murmurs into the air, rough fingertips tracing back and forth across your spine.

you speak the language of logan fluently, knowing exactly what the underlying message of his words were. in reality, he was saying, “what did i do in this life to deserve you? will you ever know how much i love you? i hope you’ll be mine for as long as you’ll have me.”

suddenly his round of laughter from before rings brighter in your ears.

instead of saying another word, you guide his face to yours, connecting your lips in a silent understanding.

logan always kisses you like a man starved, devouring you whole as though every kiss may be the last. there was nothing tame, or tender about the man they once called the wolverine, but you managed to slip between the cracks of his stony disposition, and bring forth all the parts of himself he swore he lost decades ago.

your hands encircle around the back of his neck, logan’s squeezing at the flesh of your hips. he pulls you impossibly closer, pressing the swell of your chest against his own. the feeling of your nipples pebbling through velvet fabric reminds him of the true nature of your current situation.

tonight was for him. his pleasure, his enjoyment. he knew you’d be heavily dissatisfied if he didn’t indulge in what you were offering.

and what kind of man would logan be, if he disappointed his sweet girl?

you’re not expecting him to be so gentle when he turns and flips you over, mouth never once leaving yours. a large hand spread across your back as he lowers you down onto the mattress with a care reserved for you and only you. a fact that adds to your current state of arousal. your legs open like second nature, and logan slots himself between them as though that’s where he was always meant to be.

the whine that leaves you when he pulls away would be embarrassing if it weren’t for the hunger in his stare. those normally hazel pupils now a brownish black that overshadowed bright white. he sits back on his haunches, glazing over your pretty little lingerie with a newfound appreciation.

he reaches to toy with the end of the bow tied snugly between your breasts, a teasing invitation that he graciously accepts.

at a tantalizing pace, he begins to unwrap his present, watching with lustful eyes as more and more skin becomes exposed. you arch your back the slightest bit to get the job done faster, the shoe of impatience now snug on your foot instead of his.

normally, logan would scold, spit something about “being a good girl and waiting.” but he’s just as riled up and eager as you are, and he gives the velvet one final tug that has your breasts springing free.

god you were absolute perfection.

he can’t resist running a thumb over your erect nipples, reveling in the way you squirm over such a small touch. your color coated lips swollen and shiny from his kisses. body already relaxed and pliant, willing to do whatever he so pleases.

a few minutes ago, he would’ve torn your outfit off without second thought and shown no mercy. let the shitty week he was having take control, guide him through the motions of achieving pleasure. but something inside logan urges him to be a little sentimental; take his sweet time on the off chance that he wakes up and discovers this was all a dream.

so he decides that’s exactly what he’s going to do.

the path down to your core was a familiar one, a route he knew like the back of his hand. sloppy, wet kisses trail down your stomach, a small crack in logan’s otherwise composed exterior. by the time he reaches the hem of your panties, tongue teasing beneath the waistband, you’re bursting at the seams with desire, unable to stop yourself from whimpering and bucking your hips upward.

“i gotcha honey,” he whispers against the inside of your thigh, rubbing soft circles with his thumb. “m’gonna take real good care of ya.”

logan knew you were soaked the second you walked into the room. didn’t need to see or feel it to know. still, he indulges his ego and stares proudly at the dark patch in the center of your underwear. knowing it was all his doing, that he was the only one who could get you like this.

when he pulls the fabric to the side and is met with your glistening folds, he can’t help the groan that rumbles in his chest.

“merry fuckin’ christmas to me,” he all but growls before diving right in.

it’s in moments like these where he wishes that photographic memory was his mutation, though he doubts he’ll ever forget this. his perfect girl, laid out so delicately beneath him, basking in the pale moonlight that seeped in between the curtains. his own personal utopia, paradise within the four walls of this rickety building you called home.

logan wonders if maybe he’s finally succumbed to the poison in his bones. because this sure does feel like heaven.

at the very least, it most definitely feels like christmas.

because having the privilege of watching you come undone was the gift that kept on giving all year round.

thanks for reading! <3

taglist: @alastor-simp @j4desblurbs @pandapetals @hextech-bros

!! if you would like to be tagged in the rest of the ficmas blurbs, please send me an inbox message or leave a comment !!

#retrosabers #sid writes shit #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #old man logan #old man logan x reader #old man logan smut #logan howlett #xmen #logan #hugh jackman

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thedeskofaltoclef · 3 days ago

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How I became The Desk of Alto Clef.

My response to a SCP Group designed around Hate and Bigotry who have targeted me and others in this community.

Nah, man, my daughter is dead.

It has been brought to my attention that there is a group of people on the internet who are fascinated with my fascination of Alto Clef and Meri. Hurtful and yet cute in a way so I think now I'll choose this time and these screen grabs from their discord to explain how I came to be 'The Desk of Alto Clef'.

My Daughter died six years ago and it sent me spiraling deep into the bottom of whatever bottle I could find.

I was completely prepared to take my own life and even had the things to 'finish the job' because my life had no meaning at that point. What was another statistic going to matter anyways, right?

It was in one of these dark, drunk moments with a gun when I fell across the Volgun's video on 'reality benders and you' and fell into a rabbit hole.

Drunkenly I fumbled around the wiki and learned more about this broken man known as Alto Clef.

A man whom I could relate to in my own way. A man who, no matter what he did, could never see his daughter as I will never be able to see mine. So thus, I became a very, very shitty cosplayer.

I like to believe that over the past four years my acting ability has increased to a sustainable level and as much as I joke about things I do try to stay humble about it. Though I like to think I've become better but I digress.

I love the lore of Clef and Meri, on or offsite, to the point that I am weird about it I know, but that's how I stay connected to my daughter. Writing the Deskverse is how I stay connected to my daughter.

I am also autistic which causes me to hyper fixate on Clef as a coping mechanism.

Because of this group of people I have greatly considered leaving the community and going back to my own personal solitude. Acting, Voice Acting, Cosplaying as Clef gave and still gives me something to live for again. I may not be this group's cup of tea but I do like to believe that I have helped others. My main goal has always been to uplift those who need uplifting. I do not want anyone to ever feel how I felt in my lowest and darkest moments.

The main story in the deskverse is about a father and a daughter torn apart by the actions of an abusive mother. My real life story.

I also have ZERO clue as to why I am being involved with misogyny or yuri things. If I have offended you in any way I do apologize.

I do not plan on posting the more 'suggestive' or 'lewd' responses they have made. Overly sexualized content does make me extremely uncomfortable.

This group of people have broken my heart into pieces. Seeing this list of images and names dragging me through the mud has already smashed my unstable self-esteem as it is.

At this time I do not plan on releasing any names associated with all of this because I am honestly tired of reliving the most horrid event of my life over and over because I, for whatever reason, do not fit what this group feels is acceptable of an actor/writer/fan.

I cannot say the same for the others in which they were assaulting.

In summary Alto Clef is an outlet for the pain I live with every day. I can never see, hold, hear, smell, or speak to my daughter. I have scars on my body from her mother that will never allow me to forget that life I had. I will always remember the taste of gunpowder but thankfully my drunk ass was too weak. If your going to be bad at something, be bad at that I suppose.

I will leave all of this with a final image from the copious list and the one that honestly hurts me the most. I am honestly a shy and reserved person and frankly it takes a lot for me to get out of my comfort zone. Not long ago I went to another SCP discord server because I wanted to meet new people and someone in there was awesome. I truly enjoyed my time with this person and just found them amazing. They were kind, open, willing to listen to my ideas, and gushed over Numberonedoggo. I thought I had finally made a new friend on my own. I was apparently wrong.

Art, from some of my favorite artists, was made for the sole reason of mocking me specifically. To laugh at me for finding joy in something that gives me purpose. Something I use to drive away the darkness.

No age, disorder, illness, or reason at all can be acceptable for anyone to act in this way. You are all a mockery of everything the SCP community should stand for.

-TheDesk

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bewaryofpity · 2 days ago

Text

MERRY CHRISTMAS, I MISS YOU - N. HISCHIER

[6.7k] when you received a call from your ex on christmas eve, the last thing you wanted to do was to pretend you're still together in front of his parents.

warnings: 18+, exes to lovers, angst but not really, fluff, unprotected p in v (wrap it up !), creampie, oral both f and m receiving, slightly unedited, if i missed anything pls let me know

a/n: i have no idea what this is lol, i did lose the plot at some point so the ending i planned didn’t make it and so didn’t the title, anyhow i think it’s best this way. i hope you all enjoy ! feedback is greatly appreciated ♡

A year had passed, it was December again and Nico had done nothing if not being stuck with the same feeling of missing you. Almost an entire year of no contact, apart from a few congrats texts for your occasional achievements, and yet there he was staring at his phone for the third time tonight, his thumb hovering over your name.

Nico was no coward, he needed to keep his head on his shoulders for his line of work, but he was certainly trying to find any excuse to keep him from calling you. Almost one year of convincing himself that he moved on, that he was content with how your relationship has ended, just for all that progress to crumble at his feet because he was, actually, a coward.

But this wasn’t just about him. His parents were in town for Christmas for the first time in years, excited to finally spend the holidays in New Jersey with his son. And they expected you to be there. He hadn’t told them you two broke up, though. He couldn’t. He was never able to break the news to his mom who considered you as her daughter, and he had to pay the price now.

With a heavy sigh, Nico pressed call. He immediately started to regret calling, cringing at the idea of a missed call on your phone if he hung up now, when the ringing stopped.

“Hello?” You said, voice coated with slight confusion. Nico felt a punch to the chest at the sound of your voice, all at once familiar and foreign.

“Hey, it’s me.” Nico’s voice faltered.

“I know.” You promptly utter. Silence fell on the line.

“It’s been a while, I know,” Nico mumbled “but I need a favor.” You hummed as an acknowledgement for him to keep speaking.

“My parents are in town for Christmas and they expect to see you.”

“I don’t see why they—”

“I never told them.”

Nico was almost sure you hung up for how quiet you became. His heart drumming in his chest was making him more helpless than he already was, unable to come up with something else to say.

His phone sat heavy on his hand when he heard you take a deep breath. A nervous laugh escaped your mouth, what the hell whispered in between.

“You’ve had all this time to tell them we broke up, what were you waiting for?” Your voice lacked judgment.

“I know I messed up,” he said, desperation creeping into his voice. “But they’re here now, and I—I didn’t know how to tell them. It’s Christmas tomorrow, Y/N. They’re so excited to see you. I just need you to come tonight or tomorrow. Please.”

“Nico—”

“It’s just one dinner. Then you’ll never have to hear from me again. I swear. If not for me, do it for them at least.”

He could almost see your furrowed eyebrows and the silence on the line was suffocating him again. Your calm breathing was making his chest tight, not ready to brace for rejection.

“Okay.”

He took a long exhale, “thank you.” He spoke softly, a small smile painting his lips.

Before he had the chance to speak up, you had already hung up. Nico sat back, his head tipping against the edge of the couch, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling while bringing his arm down with a thud. Your voice still echoed in his ears, each word carving a hollow space in his chest. Your voice was as warm as he remembered, yet so flat.

Y/N: spare key still under the mat? i’m coming after work, not sure about tomorrow.

Nico’s phone vibrated in his hand, your text’s preview giving him some reassurance.

Nico: yes Nico: and thank you

He pushed himself off the couch, his body feeling heavy. It wasn’t long before he had to go and pick up his parents from the airport. He absentmindedly picked up his car keys and walked out to his car.

It was supposed to be simple. A call, a favor, a dinner. But he has been clinging to the idea of you, of what you used to be, that he now felt like facing the consequences of his own actions instead of dragging you back into his life would have been a much better idea.

Nico didn’t realize the drive, the pick up, and the drive back to his apartment had already happened. Tension began coiling in his chest, the heavy weight he kept feeling for days now coming back.

He didn’t want to see you, actually. Or maybe he did. His mind was bringing him back to the night you both had reluctantly agreed that a break up was needed. It was no secret to you that he didn’t want to break up, he told you then. He wasn’t happy, he felt like dying for the most part. He couldn’t sleep, let alone leave his apartment if not for practice and games. But that was what you wanted and he gave it to you.

“You okay in there, kid?” His dad’s call out echoed from the living room, bringing him back to reality.

“Yeah, I just needed water.” Nico called back. When he turned around to join them in the living room, he was met with his mom leaning on the kitchen doorway. With eyes wide, he gave her a tight lipped smile, hoping she won’t question his behavior. I’m fine wouldn’t have been enough for her, she could always see right through him, and even if Nico told her the truth it probably wouldn’t have made him feel any better.

Before she could say something, the front door opened and his mom jumped to see you, forgetting about his son, and Nico stayed there with goosebumps forming on his arms, hot and cold shivers running down his spine.

Upon entering you heard a brief silence. You didn’t even register that his mom was right there that she already jogged to bring you in her arms. You were frozen in your space for a second, unsure of what to do. The last time you’d seen each other was the summer Nico brought you to Switzerland where everything felt so right. Yet here you were. You missed her, that was true; she reached out to you a few times, and despite knowing it was out of the kindness of her heart, you couldn’t help but think of how many excuses Nico threw at her for your not being around. How he lied to his mom for all this time was something you couldn’t comprehend.

“Oh, it’s so good to see you, sweetheart!” She cheered, parting slightly from the hug and giving your shoulders a comforting squeeze.

“Hi, Mrs. Hischier.”

“Please, how many times do I have to tell you to just call me Katja.” She waved you off and you smiled. His dad followed, giving you a simple side hug.

As his parents continued fussing over you, Nico finally moved to the living room to watch the scene unfold. You stood in his apartment again and it felt like you never left. You were beautiful and you had those rosy cheeks you would get from the cold wind of Jersey that Nico loved so much. The ache in his chest grew and it was getting hard to resist the tears that kept forming in his eyes since this morning.

When you made eye contact with Nico it was like someone punched you in the chest. His brown eyes were glossy, wide like a deer in headlights. He didn’t shave, not that he did often, but it looked less kept than it usually was.

You reluctantly stepped towards him, gaze focused on his chest and that’s when you saw his left hand twitch in your direction before he brought it back down. It completely left your mind that you couldn’t keep your distance from him now with his parents here. Though the moments you two kissed in front of family were almost nonexistent, Nico was always the kind of guy to keep you close within arm reach, so no physical contact would be odd.

So you did the most natural thing you could do. You gave him a hug. Your skin was burning where he was touching you. It felt like that night again and you wanted to disappear. You felt his heart rapidly thumping in his chest, or maybe it was yours. It didn’t really matter. Nico looked at his mom before he looked down at you. He was getting overwhelmed with the amount of times he almost cried only today and prayed for the day to come to an end sooner.

“Hey.” Your voice was small, audible only to him. He replied with an equally small hey, throat dry. Silence stretched between you and you could feel the tension on your skin. A small part of you couldn’t part ways as you inhaled his scent. The warmth from his chest was seeping through his hoodie and you wished you could just stay there a little longer.

You barely drew back when Katja put a hand on your shoulder and brought you back into her with a side hug.

“Come, sit. Let me catch you up while we eat. I’ll show you some pictures from this summer, it was a shame you couldn’t come to Switzerland this time.”

You casted a glance at Nico which he avoided. You barely registered Katja’s words as she scrolled through her phone for you and all you could think of was how she deserved to know. She looked so happy sharing these memories with you, as though you still belonged here, and it wasn’t her fault that she believed so.

“Next time, you have to come. We missed you so much.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

You swallowed hard, forcing another smile. Nico shifted in his chair beside you, his hand reaching for his water but his posture was rigid. He didn’t say a word, you could feel the tension radiating off him silently acknowledging the lie hanging in the air. A part of you wanted to say something, to clear the air, because his mom was kind, but it wasn’t for you to deal with. It wasn’t you that lied.

The pizza in front of you looked unpleasant as the ache in your stomach made you more nauseous.

You wanted to go home. Nico’s parents called it a night early blaming it on jet lag and that tomorrow is gonna be a big day, his father said.

You were left alone with Nico in the living room, neither of you were saying anything. You were just staring ahead paying no mind to whatever Christmas movie was left playing softly on the TV.

It was awkward. You put yourself in this situation because you missed Nico, truthfully. When he called you this morning you weren’t really thinking of what was best for you, you just wanted an excuse to come back to him. Selfish as it was. It was rather hypocritical that you craved his presence again after you were the one to propose the break up. But you spent two years together so your whole life consisted of him. He was everywhere, your apartment smelled like him even months after he left, things he left behind that both of you have forgotten about were lingering in a corner in your closet. It took time letting him go from your mind, but you were here and it felt so wrong. The look he gave you when you parted from your hug earlier made you feel so guilty.

“I’ll sleep here, you can take the bed.” Nico said softly, voice above a whisper. You startled anyway, jerking your head in his direction. You had told him earlier that to not raise any suspicion with his parents, you would spend the night here.

“It’s your bed.” You replied with the same tone. He looked at you now, his brown eyes glowing in the dim light emanating from the TV. You couldn’t take the bed, it would smell like him and you could endure it only so much before going crazy.

“It doesn't matter.”

“What are you gonna tell them when they find you here in the morning?” He didn’t answer, instead he brought his focus back to the TV. Were you going to regret this? Probably. “Just come to bed with me, Nico.”

Avoiding his gaze, you slowly began walking towards his room, your feet moving on their own accord. Everything was left the same. The pit in your stomach grew tighter when you pushed the door to his room open and blindly reached for the lamp on the nightstand. The patter of Nico’s feet grew louder until he reached his bedroom’s doorway.

“There’s still some clothes you left here.” He motioned to the dresser next to him. You hummed in response and as he rummaged through one of the drawers, you stood by the bed like you couldn't move. Idiot. If you weren't staring at him so intensely you would've missed how shaky his hands were when he reached for you to grab at your clothes. You peered up for a second, his gaze focused on the clothes in his hand heavy.

“I’ll–”

“Yeah.”

The bathroom door clicked shut behind you, your forehead coming to rest on it. He was beautiful. And he made your heart warm like he always knew how to. But he wasn’t the Nico you always knew, you could see it in his eyes. Fear started pooling in your stomach. Was it your doing? You avoided the mirror in front of you completely.

After hastily changing and brushing your teeth, you joined him back into the room. He was already under the covers, on his usual side, front facing the window. You quietly got under the blanket too and laid close to the end of the bed staring at the ceiling. The hum of the heater filled the silence, yet the weight of unspoken words pressed down on your heart.

“Never thought you’d say yes.”

You took your time to respond and kept staring at the white ceiling illuminated by the moonlight coming through the curtains’ gap.

“Why?”

The rustling of the covers filled the silence as Nico shifted slightly.

“You made it seem like you wanted nothing to do with me anymore.”

“I don’t regret you, Nico.”

“I never said you did.”

You exhaled sharply. The weight of the duvet became unbearable, and with a swift motion you shoved it off, pooling in your lap; arms followed with a dull thud, slamming onto the bunched-up duvet. The cold air nipped at your exposed burning skin.

“Talk to me.” You breathed. Nico didn't move and you were growing frustrated. “Do you regret it?”

“Being with you? Sometimes. I made many mistakes and you were always there for me and I took that for granted. I pushed you away when you needed me most, and by the time I realized it, it was too late. I know you deserve so much better but deep down, I wish we didn't end that night, we just stay there and talk it out.”

“I think that maybe I would always let you come back” he said softly, almost inaudibly, “not that I waited for you, exactly. But when I called you this morning and you agreed, I had the tiniest hope that things could change. If you came, and at the end of the night told me you still loved me and asked me to be yours again… I'm not sure there’s anything in the world I wouldn't have done for that to really happen.”

Shuffling towards the middle of the bed, your hand reached for him to comb through his hair, his body jumping a little at the unexpected contact. He shifted a little to get closer to you and turned around to face you.

“You’re awful.”

“What?”

“Don’t say things like that,” you said, your voice low and strained. “Not when we’re lying here like this. I didn’t leave because I stopped loving you, Nico, I left because I didn’t recognize us anymore. You were indifferent, coming home upset and angry more often than not all because of your job. I could’ve respected that, I would’ve listened to you if you opened up to me. But you didn’t talk to me anymore and I didn’t know what to do with you, it’s like you were holding a knife to my chest and slowly pushing it deeper until you reached my heart. It got to a point where I dreamed of you asking me questions, talking to me, desiring me like you always did. Then I’d open my eyes and you're someone different.”

“Maybe in another lifetime we will find each other at the right time. Maybe we end up like this in each one, but I like to believe there is at least one where we deserve each other. I just don't think it’s this one.”

Your hand never stopped caressing through his hair. It didn’t take long for a stray tear to fall from your eye just as Nico closed his eyes to avoid his own spilling over the pillow with no avail. You halted your movements to bring your thumb under his eye and wipe at the loose tears. He didn’t say anything else, and neither did you. Nico grabbed at the covers you bunched up earlier to cover you again.

You shifted slightly, the duvet brushing against your arm as your body relaxed fully into the mattress. You felt his warmth beside you — steady and grounding. The minutes dragged on, and eventually both of your breathing slowed, evening out into sleep.

It was early in the morning when Nico woke up. The sunrise barely peeked through the curtains, casting a soft glow over his bed. It took him a while to realize that it wasn’t his duvet weighing on his chest, it was you. Your face was mushed and lips pouty, his right arm wrapped around you securely. You looked like an angel.

He didn’t have it in his heart to wake you up. Instead, his gaze lingered on your peaceful expression, focused on the soft rise and fall of your breaths that tickled his skin, a steady rhythm that made his chest ache. His thumb brushed against your shoulder lightly, a barely-there touch because it all felt like a dream and he didn’t want it to end. He sighed softly, tilting his head back against the pillow and closing his eyes again. The weight of your body lulled him back to sleep, the hold on you loosening slightly but never letting go.

Moments later, the morning light shining on your eyes stirred you awake, and you couldn’t help but blink groggily. The warmth surrounding you was so comforting that you couldn’t resist burying your face into it and that’s when your heart began to race. Nico’s face was so close you only needed to make the slightest movement before his lips would graze your forehead; his features relaxed and peaceful in his sleep. The stubble on his jaw caught the morning glow, and the soft strands of his hair brushed against his forehead.

Every instinct screamed at you to move, to untangle yourself from the undeniable comfort of being close to him again, but the minutes passed and the blush on your cheeks deepened with every second you lingered. When it became too much to bear, slowly, carefully, you slid out from under his arm, your movements cautious to avoid waking him.

Your feet hit the cool floor and the blush now burning like wildfire across your cheeks while you tiptoed to the kitchen, closing the door gently behind you. The conversation with Nico kept replaying in your head, or rather the fact that he was crying, and Nico never cried in front of you unless they were happy tears.

You relished in his touch. The feeling of his stubble on your hands was something you never thought you’d miss, yet the rough texture was rather comforting. And then this morning when his lips have probably grazed your skin in your sleep at least once, you wished you were conscious to savor it like you actually didn't deserve.

“Huh?”

“I said good morning and merry Christmas.” Katja smiled brightly at you, Rino mirroring her action while also raising his coffee cup. You looked ridiculous still in your rumpled makeshift pajamas and your face still flushed from the morning’s events.

“Oh, merry Christmas.” You offered a small smile as you moved to pour yourself some coffee, hyper aware of their presence. Despite the blush painting your cheeks, you started to feel cold. The t-shirt Nico gave you was thin, an old band shirt you left behind, but the pants were scrunched at your feet. He didn’t notice they were actually his yesterday, they were always yours to wear anyway.

“You’re up early,” Katja remarked, setting her coffee cup on the table. “I thought for sure you two would sleep in after staying up so late talking.”

Your hand froze mid-reach, “yeah, just couldn’t sleep much.” You replied, hoping your tone was casual enough.

She gave you a look but said nothing, her warm demeanor unchanging though she definitely knew something was off. Did she actually hear what you said yesterday night? The walls couldn’t be that thin, right? The sound of footsteps from the hallway behind you woke you up a little, and you didn’t need to turn around to know it was Nico.

“Morning,” he said, his voice gravelly from sleep. You turned slightly, catching sight of him leaning against the counter next to you. His brown hair was disheveled and his shirt slightly wrinkled, but his expression was almost unreadable. If you didn’t know otherwise, you would’ve mistaken his slightly puffy eyes for sleepiness.

His gaze lingered on the ground for a moment, and then he tilted his head up, noticing the way you had wrapped your free arm around yourself. Before you could protest, Nico walked out of the kitchen. Katja glanced at you confused after he barely acknowledged her or Rino.

“Here,” he said, holding his black hoodie from yesterday out to you. It was your favorite, the one that was so fuzzy inside it felt like a blanket and the one he would leave behind for you when he left for road trips. You blinked, momentarily stunned by the gesture.

“Oh, I’m fine—”

“You’re shivering.” He interrupted, his voice firm but gentle. His gaze met yours and reluctantly you took the hoodie, your fingers brushing his briefly as you did.

“Thanks.” You mumbled, slipping it over your head. The warmth was immediate, just like the familiar trace of his scent as it filled your senses. What made it impossible to bear was Nico leaning over just slightly to press a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. Blush be damned.

Nico moved around the kitchen to pour himself some coffee as you caught the faintest hint of a smirk on Katja’s face. As she walked past to place her now empty cup in the sink, she leaned close to you with the same sly smile still playing on her lips.

“We’re not gonna let Nico cook alone later, right?”

The day went by fast and dinner was long done. The unavoidable intimacy seemed to dissipate the cold demeanor you had opted for yesterday when you arrived, just as Nico started to look less dejected. Letting him back in your life wouldn’t be that bad, after all, you did drop everything to be here with him. You still loved him, just like he did you, but you couldn’t accept coming back to Nico after all this pain you left him with.

“What happened between you and Nico?”

The question made you falter, almost dropping the already slippery plate in your hands. There was no you and Nico anymore. Whatever happened between you two didn’t matter anymore as now none of it made sense. It was your mistake all along, the break up. Because if it wasn’t for a bad day at work for the both of you, you wouldn’t have fought and none of this would have happened.

“Why?”

“You two seem off.”

You wanted out of the relationship for your own sake, yet you didn’t realize how much you were hurting until yesterday. The no escaping his touch or his gaze made your head dizzy because it took you months before you convinced yourself that you were fine without him, and now that Nico was gentle to you even in the mess he created that he so wanted to disappear from, your newfound façade was long gone.

“Nothing. Our schedules clashed often and we didn't have much time for ourselves.”

Part of it was true if you thought back to last year. With Nico constantly on road trips and his team not playing their best, and your job keeping you away from him, the only time you saw each other was during nighttime. And with both of you exhausted there wasn’t much to say without striking a nerve.

Katja leaned her hip on the counter, leaning slightly to try to read your expression, your eyebrows furrowed as you kept scrubbing the same plate over and over again.

You didn’t notice Nico lingering by the door until his mom placed a hand on your shoulder. You turned around in his direction as she walked past him with a good night under her breath, just as Nico came to stand in her previous spot.

“How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to tell you that that plate is clean enough.”

You handed him the last plate with a sigh and as you waited for him to dry it, you couldn’t help but stare at his faint smile. Before you could stop yourself, your hand reached for his cheek, brushing at the small new scar there. His movements hesitated for a moment before turning to face you, your hand dropping slightly at the action. You almost missed the way his gaze dropped to your lips for a split second before looking back into your eyes.

Maybe it was the wine you both drank earlier or maybe it was meant to happen. Nico leaned down, cupping your face to kiss you. It was gentle, a bit hesitant, almost as if he was giving you space to pull away. But you didn’t, not even if your brain told you so.

He pulled away, lips still brushing yours and his eyes closed. You missed his lips on yours, so soft and tender just as you remembered and desperately wished to feel again.

“I’m sor—“

You didn’t let him finish as you put your lips back on his, hands making their way from his chest to wrap around his neck. You were desperate for more, fearing that the moment would end too soon, but Nico squeezed your hip a little to ground you. He wasn’t going anywhere.

His tongue brushed your lips and you let him in. A small moan escaped his mouth and you couldn’t help but feed into it. A faint taste of wine still lingered on his tongue, sweetness clouding your thoughts.

“Please tell me to stop”

“No, don’t stop.”

Both of his hands trailed their way around your body, eager to feel every curve of your body again. He needed to feel you, keep his hands on you to ground himself because he was scared this actually never happened and it was just a sick joke his mind was playing.

As the kiss grew more sloppy and hands roaming with no set purpose, Nico held you impossibly closer to him, his body heat burning against your skin. He held tightly onto your waist, murmuring a small jump against your lips as he hoisted you up the counter, legs instinctively wrapping around his lower back.

The overwhelming feeling of it all almost made you cry. It was tender, yet the way your lips moved set a different pace.

“Take me to bed, Nico.”

He gently pushed away strands of hair that had fallen in front of your eyes before his hand rested on your cheek. “We don’t have to, we can stop now and it’ll all be okay.”

“I need you to make love to me.” And Nico grabbed at your thighs, keeping you tight against his chest as he walked to his bedroom. You didn’t have to tell him twice, he just wanted to give you space in case this was too much.

He laid you gently on the bed and kissed you again, fervor replaced by love. He pecked your lips before pressing another kiss to your cheek.

“You’re so beautiful.” He said as one of his hands traveled up your hoodie, leaving a tingling trail where he had touched you, while the other one gave him support by your head.

You brought his lips back on yours, thumbs tracing every curve of his cheeks. Beard tickling your skin, his plush lower lip found its way between yours, and he allowed his mouth to smile against yours for the first time today. You were lost in the feeling of him, and so was him with yours, lips brushing as though this was the lifetime in which you were meant for each other.

What you once knew as love filled both of your hearts again. This wasn’t fair. His hands on you, his lips on you, you in his bed. It wasn’t fair because you broke his heart, just as you broke your own.

“Take my hoodie off.” You whispered and he obliged. Nico’s nose skimmed along your neck, delighting himself in the way your skin felt along the warmth of his own. And he allowed himself to slide down to trace the skin of your collarbone, then kissing along the ridges of your ribs and allowing himself to drown once more in you.

As his lips reached your hips, he looked up at you smiling so sweetly, a sort of reassurance painting your face. He slid your jeans off before he brought himself up to you, reveling in the feeling of your chest meeting his own with every heaving breath. The soft lace of your bra brushed his chest, catching the curves and edges of his skin.

It had been too long since you’d felt his touch —or anyone’s for that matter— so the touch of his hands against your skin was enough to fuel the pulsing ache between your legs.

You took his hand in yours, placing a kiss on the center of his palm before slowly guiding his hand down to your center. And Nico never stopped looking at you, not even when the feeling of the damp fabric as he slid a finger over your clothed slit made a groan escape his lips.

He left a trail of open-mouthed kisses on his way back to your thighs, discarding your bra in the process. You whined when he nipped his teeth against the sensitive skin of your thigh, and you whined again at the soft brush of his mustache on the same spot.

Gently pushing your panties aside, Nico stroked two fingers along your now-bare slit, heat rushing to his cheeks at the way your hips involuntarily rolled into him, chest heaving at his touch.

“Is this okay?” You nodded in response and he didn’t wait much before dipping into your core. With a gentle grip, he pushed your thighs apart, kissing your folds before licking a long stripe over them.

And Nico was in heaven as you squirmed under his touch, reveling in the feeling of your warm thighs caging his head as soft moans escaped your mouth. The scratch of his beard sent jolts down your spine and when he added a finger inside of you, you couldn’t help the buckle of your hips against his mouth.

Your hand busied through his hair, fingers tugging at his roots gently and the vibrations from his groans against your clit sent you overwhelming waves of pleasure. You sounded like an angel to his ears and Nico had to roll his hips onto the bed sheets to soothe himself just a little bit.

“Please give it to me, baby.” Nico murmured against your core as he added another finger.

And you dared to look down at him, so concentrated in getting a taste of you, gently and slowly because he missed this and his body yearned for a taste of you like a drug.

The feeling of his fingers curling inside of you in the right spots and his tongue applying pressure on your clit were enough for the air to leave your lungs. With a moan, slightly too loud, you came on his fingers and Nico held you against him to catch every single drop of your release.

“You taste so sweet, baby.”

Baby. You opened your eyes to see his cheeks red, your arousal coating his chin and he’s looking at you like you hung the moon through hazy eyes. It didn’t come as a surprise to you when a tear fell from your eyes, and soon you couldn’t stop them from running down your cheeks.

He kissed his way up to you with a sort of urgency to cradle your face in his hands. And the tears didn’t stop when he tried to kiss them away.

“I’m right here, you’re okay.”

“I love you. I’m sorry.”

It was the only thing you could say, really, unsure whether the apology was directed to yourself or him. But it didn’t really matter because he was here now, in your arms, sensitive and tender as ever.

“Nico”

“Mh?” His face mere inches away from yours, noses and lips brushing.

“Let me take care of you.”

Nico would have told you no, because he didn’t need your mouth to show him you still loved him, your words were more than enough to him. But your hands moved from his shoulders down to his chest, stopping right at his heart and he knew you could feel his heart racing up.

So he let you guide him on his back as you shifted on top of him, straddling his thighs before kissing your way down. You mouthed at the skin on his neck, focusing on sucking at the pulsing point connecting at his shoulder.

His abs clenched under the touch of your hands and a staggered breath left his lips when your face reached the band of his boxers. You kissed around his hips, delicate fingers tracing up and down his thighs as you teased his tip over his boxers with a kiss, causing it to jump under your touch. You noticed a small damp spot and you smiled, pulling down his boxers agonizingly slow. Eager as he has always been with you, you knew it took every ounce of control for him not to lose himself then.

You brought your hand to the base of his cock, his breath hitching as you pumped him slowly, and squeezing just slightly to milk precum out of his tip. You followed the vein from the base to his tip with your tongue as your thumb pressed over the leaking slit, hips jumping at your touch.

“Please don’t tease me.” He whined under his breath, watching as you brought your thumb to your lips. And how could you say no to that?

You parted your lips to suck at his tip, sinking down until you reached his base and Nico shivered underneath you at the contact with the back of your throat. Your mouth continued to work around him, and he whimpered as you flatten your tongue to take more of him into your mouth. And he was drowning in pleasure as you used one of your hands to wrap around what you couldn’t take in your mouth as the other gripped at his thigh.

You made eye contact with him when his right hand caressed through your hair and you moaned around him, a few strands of his hair sticking to his forehead and chest flushed. You felt his cock twitch inside of you and you knew he was close. He was in such a haze he almost missed that a few more strokes of your tongue would’ve made him come, and he didn’t want that. He wanted to relish in the feeling of your walls for that.

A soft stop left his lips just as his hand carefully pulled at your hair to get you off him. And the sight of you, lips parted and wet and subtly swollen, weren’t helping his cause.

He shifted his weight onto his elbow, other hand cradling your face to pull you in for a chaste kiss.

“Let me be yours.”

“You’ve always been.”

With his head on your shoulder, he gently pushed you down onto your back. Nico lifted himself to his knees, sliding his boxers down his legs and slipping out of them before hovering you again and removing your panties. His forehead came to rest against yours, eyes fluttering shut as he paused in his movements to take it all in. He had you again and he needed to make the most out of his time, fear looming in the back of his mind that you’d still leave tomorrow without a word.

Your hands cupped his jaw and you arched forward to capture his lips on yours. It was slow, his fingers curling around the nape of your neck, pulling you closer. Eagerly, he pressed into your touch, the soft weight of his chest pressing into yours comforting.

Your legs wrapped around his torso hoping to get some relief from your aching core. And Nico never stopped kissing you as he aligned himself with your entrance, teasing you with his length along your slit and causing you to buck, moans suppressed by his saccharine lips.

As he inched in, deeper into you, Nico savoured your warmth as if you were made just for him —and truthfully you were— movements deliberate and steady just like how he knew you liked.

He didn’t want to seem desperate but you were squeezing him tight, nails digging into his back and your arms wrapped tightly around him refusing to let him go. With the heels of your feet pressing into his lower back, he knew not to be ashamed for your desperation matched his.

His body curled over yours, nose poking at your jaw so he could bite at your throat as he keeps fucking into you. One hand came to cup the back of your neck bringing you impossibly closer, and the way he was whispering dirty little nothings, lips brushing the shell of your ear, brought you to the edge.

Nico’s set thrusts urged you ever closer to your peak as he rolled his hips into yours, movement heavy inside of you, his fingers dropping to draw circles on your sensitive clit as your labored murmuring for more fanned against his lips. And you were an angel with the way you took him, welcoming him in at the gates of heaven with your honeyed sounds.

You rushed forward, chasing his lips as your release surged through you, tightening around him with a sweet sigh and his tongue swept into your mouth as he drowned your moans. His own release followed right after, emptying inside of you. The sound of his satisfied groan blissful to your ears as he came to rest on top of you.

Heaved breathing, Nico’s head settled on your chest and you made to sweep his hair from his eyes to admire the sweat-sheen glow adorning his warm skin. Your hands worked at his shoulder, kneading the muscles there as you took every opportunity to feel his skin against yours.

Nico shifted on his side and brought you with him, taking a moment to press a kiss to his pec, his neck and his lips once again.

“Will you let me stay?”

“I don’t think you really need my answer to that.”

Nico slid his hands up your side, bringing your thigh over his hip. His large palm heavy as you shifted impossibly closer, one hand rubbing his scalp. And you kissed him without lust, simply reveling in the feel of his tongue dancing against yours, while he followed your lead wordlessly, squeezing so tenderly at your hip because this time he knows you will be there tomorrow. And any other day after.

#nico hischier x reader #nico hischier fic #nico hischier x you #nico hischier x y/n #nico hischier one shot #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot

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hhmnya · 10 hours ago

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ㅤ ꢾ꣒ㅤㅤ SECRET SANTA──PSH.

resumen ｡｡ he gives you a second gift.

( 성훈 ) femreader ㅤㅤ✦ㅤㅤ 619wc implied friends to lovers ㅤ──ㅤ w not proofread

you step outside of jake's apartment building, pulling your coat tighter around you once the cold air hits your face. you stand on the curb, waiting for your uber as you stare up at the sky.

secret santa: a classic christmas game, one that your friends decided to do before you all left to your hometowns. you had gotten yeojin, buying her a weighted blanket. eventually you were the last one without torn up wrapping paper around your area and the only person yet to give a gift was sunghoon.

he handed you a small box, wrapped so pretty that you almost didn't want to tear the paper. you did, though, and inside was a bracelet. which you immediately recognized as an expensive necklace, definitely not within the fifty dollar budget the group had decided on.

a smile takes over your face when you remember the shy look sunghoon had given you, his cheeks flushed red while your friends scolded him for buying something out of budget.

"you're not cold?" you turn towards the voice, flinching out of surprise. you glance up and glare at the man standing next to you.

"oh my god, you scared the fuck out of me," he laughs, backing away as you hit his shoulder. regretting the action, you stuff your hands back into your coat pockets to warm them up and mumble quietly, "you're actually awful, sunghoon."

"i'm not that bad. i spoiled you today."

you tilt your head in confusion before you smile in realization, "oh, you did. it's pretty, by the way. thank you."

he hums, letting the conversation die out. the two of you stand silently in the cold, but it's not uncomfortable. that's what you like about sunghoon—he's the kind of person you don't have to be constantly talking to, he provides you with the kind of comfort that hot chocolate does on a snowy day.

"there's a second part to your gift," he says, breaking the silence. he kicks at the ground roughly, avoiding your gaze.

"what do you mean?"

"the necklace isn't the only thing i'm giving you."

"wait—hello? how much did you spend on me?"

"i only spent money on the necklace."

you don’t follow, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion. maybe you’re just oblivious, but you have no idea what he's talking about. he's giving you two gifts, but one of them was free? that makes zero sense in your mind.

"i like you," he says it with so much confidence, like it was the most simple and obvious thing in the world. it makes you feel like you should've known this whole time.

you're in a daze and by the time you get a hold of yourself, your uber pulls up, a notification going off on your phone to alert you.

you don't notice—too distracted—when sunghoon glances at the license plate, storing it away in his mind just in case.

"you should go, it's late," he guides you to the car, opening it for you.

well that's just unfair—he's pushing you away, clearly avoiding your reply to his confession. his confidence was obviously an act he put up.

rolling your eyes, you lean up and place a kiss on his cheek. courtesy of the streetlights, you can see sunghoon's cheeks turning redder with every passing second.

"i'll see you next week. maybe we can hang out?" you shift nervously, looking up at him expectantly.

he nods immediately, the biggest grin you've ever seen spreading across his face—he looks like a kid who's just gotten his dream gift.

"yeah, yeah. definitely."

when your uber drives away, you freak out in the most discreet way possible. this was genuinely the best christmas you've had in a long time.

anna's note. happy holidays guys ily all and i especially love hoon :3

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ click4more.

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lila-lou · 1 day ago

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✨Double Trouble✨

Summary: Christmas in the bunker was supposed to be quiet. With the twins finally in bed, Dean and you were ready to enjoy a little “grown-up time”. But as always with these two, nothing went as planned.

-Christmas Special-

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Fluff

Word Count: 9734

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

The bunker was quiet, the kind of quiet that only came on Christmas Eve when all the excitement of the day had simmered into the promise of tomorrow. You should’ve known better than to trust your five-year-old twins, Ellie and Jake, to stay in bed. But Dean had insisted, grinning ear-to-ear, that they’d be too tired from all the snowball fights and cookie decorating to cause any mischief.

Apparently, that grin lied.

You were leaning against the counter in the kitchen, enjoying the brief silence. The soft glow of the string lights you’d hung around the bunker shimmered faintly, casting a warm, cozy light over the room. It was moments like these—rare, fleeting moments—that made everything else worth it. The chaos, the hunting, the danger. This was home.

Dean walked in quietly, brushing flour off his dark flannel, his hair slightly disheveled. He still had that boyish grin, the one that had charmed you all those years ago and hadn’t lost its effect. He didn’t say anything at first, just stood there for a moment, watching you. You could feel his eyes on you, the weight of his gaze making your cheeks flush.

“Hey,”, he said softly, his voice warm, as he crossed the kitchen toward you.

“Hey yourself”, you replied, smiling at him as he closed the distance between you.

“You look too calm”, he teased, resting a hand on the counter beside you and leaning in slightly. “Makes me think you’re plotting something”.

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “For once, no. Just enjoying the quiet while it lasts”.

Dean smirked, his other hand slipping around your waist. “Quiet doesn’t last long around here. Might as well make the most of it”.

Before you could reply, he leaned in and kissed you, soft at first, then deeper, his lips warm and familiar. His hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you closer, and the tension of the day melted away in an instant. For a moment, it was just the two of you—no monsters, no apocalypse-level threats, no five-year-old twins who could rival Sam and Dean in sheer determination. Just you and him.

You smiled against his lips when he finally pulled back, his forehead resting lightly against yours. “What’s that for?”, you whispered, still feeling the warmth of him surrounding you.

Dean shrugged, though his smirk deepened. “Do I need a reason to kiss my wife?”.

“Guess not”, you murmured, sliding your hands up to rest on his shoulders. “Not that I’m complaining”.

“Better not”, he teased, his tone light. “Otherwise, I’ll have to—”.

Before he could finish, the sound of not-so-stealthy giggling reached you both from the hallway. Dean pulled back slightly, frowning in mock annoyance. “You hear that?”, he whispered, though the twinkle in his eye gave him away.

“I hear it”, you replied, sighing as you glanced toward the doorway. “And I think I know exactly who it is”.

Dean smirked, his hands still resting on your waist. “Think we should let ‘em sweat it out, or should we just go ahead and bust them?”.

“Let’s see how far they’re willing to take this”, you said, grinning as you leaned against him.

Before either of you could move, Ellie’s little blonde head peeked around the corner, quickly followed by Jake’s. They froze when they realized they’d been caught, their identical green eyes wide with a mixture of guilt and amusement.

“Uh-oh”, Jake whispered, elbowing his sister. “Run?”.

Ellie shook her head, whispering back loudly, “No, we gotta play it cool!”.

Dean chuckled, letting his hands drop as he turned toward the doorway. “Alright, you two little troublemakers”, he said, his voice carrying just enough mock sternness to make them squirm. “What are you doing out of bed?”.

Ellie straightened her spine, clearly deciding to be the spokesperson for their operation. “We were just… making sure Santa didn’t need any help”, she said, her small chin lifting with determination.

Jake nodded vigorously. “Yeah, ‘cause, you know, Christmas is important”.

Dean raised an eyebrow, glancing at you as he leaned back against the counter. The corners of his mouth twitched as he tried not to laugh. “Uh-huh. And what’s so important about sneaking through the bunker in the middle of the night?”.

Ellie’s confidence faltered just slightly, and Jake’s gaze darted to the floor. They exchanged a quick, silent sibling look before Ellie blurted out, “We were looking for presents!”.

Dean groaned dramatically, dragging a hand down his face, though the twinkle in his eye gave him away. “Of course you were. You two are worse than I was at your age”.

“Got that right”. you muttered under your breath, earning a smirk from him.

“Did you find anything?”, Dean asked, crouching slightly to look them in the eye.

“Nooo”, Jake admitted, dragging out the word. “But we did see you kissing Mom, so… ew”.

Ellie wrinkled her nose in agreement. “So gross”.

You chuckled, rolling your eyes at the twins. They were a whirlwind of mischief wrapped in innocence, and as much as they drove you and Dean crazy, you wouldn’t trade them for the world.

Ellie and Jake padded into the kitchen, their tiny feet barely making a sound against the bunker’s cool floor. Their sheepish grins betrayed their earlier bravado, and you were just about to send them back to bed when another figure appeared in the doorway.

Sam.

He looked like he had just fallen out of bed, his hair a mess, and his flannel pajamas slightly askew. His face carried the same half-annoyed, half-amused expression he always wore when dealing with his niece and nephew’s antics.

“Let me guess”, Sam said, rubbing his eyes and stifling a yawn. “The dynamic duo strikes again?”.

Dean smirked, crossing his arms as he leaned against the counter. “What gave it away, Sammy? The giggling or the fact that it’s two in the morning?”.

Sam sighed, shaking his head. “I was hoping they’d finally give you guys a break. Especially after the sugar high they’ve been on all day”.

Jake piped up, “We weren’t doing anything bad, Uncle Sam!”.

Ellie nodded in agreement, tugging on Sam’s sleeve as if to convince him. “Yeah! We were just making sure Santa’s okay!”.

Sam raised an eyebrow, looking down at them skeptically. “Uh-huh. And you thought Santa was hiding in the bunker kitchen?”.

Dean snorted, clearly enjoying the show. “Give ‘em some credit, Sammy. At least they’re committed”.

Meanwhile, Sam’s son, Caleb, was notably absent, which didn’t escape Dean’s notice. “And where’s the little angel?”, Dean asked, glancing behind Sam. “Still tucked in, dreaming about saving kittens or whatever perfect kids dream about?”.

Sam rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide a smirk. “He’s asleep, like a normal kids. Not wandering around trying to play detective”.

“Pfft”, Dean said, waving a dismissive hand. “He’s just too scared to get caught. These two? Fearless”.

Ellie beamed at the backhanded compliment, while Jake puffed out his chest, clearly proud of their escapade. You shook your head, stepping in before they got any more ideas.

“Alright, enough”, you said firmly, placing your hands on your hips. “Ellie, Jake, back to bed. Now”.

“But Moooom!”, they whined in unison, dragging out the word as though it might change your mind.

Dean, however, backed you up, straightening to his full height and putting on his best stern-dad face. “Don’t ‘but Mom’ her. Get your butts in bed before Santa really skips over the bunker”.

The twins’ eyes widened, and Ellie clutched Jake’s arm. “He won’t skip us, will he?”, she asked, her voice tinged with panic.

“That depends on how fast you get to bed”, Dean replied, pointing toward the hallway.

That was all it took. They scurried out of the kitchen, their little footsteps echoing down the hall as they whispered frantically about whether Santa had heard them.

Once they were gone, the silence returned, broken only by the low hum of the bunker’s lights. Sam chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You guys have your hands full”.

Dean clapped him on the shoulder. “Hey, you could’ve had twins too, but nooo, you got lucky with Mr. Perfect”.

Sam smirked. “Caleb’s not perfect, he’s just… well-behaved”.

Dean shot him a mock glare. “Same thing. Next time, send him over here. Maybe some of that ‘well-behaved’ will rub off”.

“Doubt it”, Sam said dryly.

Just as Sam turned to head back to his room, the sound of tiny, pattering footsteps echoed back down the hall. You sighed, already knowing who it was before Ellie and Jake reappeared in the doorway, their little faces full of a mix of defiance and something you recognized as an attempt at innocence.

Sam stopped in his tracks and turned back, raising an eyebrow. “Didn’t you two just get sent to bed?”.

Ellie, clutching her favorite stuffed animal—a well-loved bunny missing one ear—padded straight toward you. “Mommy, we can’t sleep”, she said softly, her green eyes wide and pleading as she held out her little hands toward you.

Jake nodded behind her, trying to look equally earnest, though his mischievous smirk ruined the act. “Yeah, we need another story. Just one more”.

Sam let out a low snort, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed. “I’ll say it again—you guys have your hands full”.

Dean groaned, running a hand over his face, though you could see the small, fond smile tugging at his lips. “You two are the worst negotiators ever”, he said, though there was no real heat in his tone. “Didn’t we read you a story already?”.

Ellie nodded solemnly. “But it wasn’t enough”, she said, her little voice trembling like she was delivering the most heartbreaking news. “I can’t sleep”.

Ellie had been having trouble sleeping the past few nights, and it didn’t take much to see the shadows of her recent restlessness in the way she clung to you now. Jake, you suspected, was just along for the ride, but Ellie’s unease was genuine.

You knelt down and gently scooped Ellie up, settling her on your hip with ease. She wrapped her little arms around your neck and rested her head against your shoulder, her well-loved bunny clutched tightly in one hand. She was already five, and you knew these moments wouldn’t last forever. Soon enough, she’d be too big to carry like this, but for now, you held her close, savoring her warmth and the soft scent of her shampoo.

“It’s okay, baby”, you murmured, running a hand soothingly over her back. “Mommy’s got you”.

Ellie sighed, her tiny body relaxing against yours. “I don’t wanna have bad dreams”, she whispered, her voice trembling.

Dean’s teasing expression softened instantly, and he stepped closer, brushing a stray strand of hair out of Ellie’s face. “No bad dreams tonight, kiddo”, he said gently. “You’re safe here. Nothing’s getting past me and your mom, okay?”.

Ellie nodded but didn’t lift her head, snuggling further into your shoulder. You kissed the top of her head and glanced at Jake, who stood nearby with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his pajama pants, looking both sheepish and protective.

“And you, mister”, you said, giving Jake a soft smile, “are you here to keep your sister company?”.

Jake shrugged, his little smirk reappearing. “She doesn’t like being alone”, he admitted. “And I didn’t want her to cry”.

Dean chuckled, ruffling Jake’s hair. “Good man”, he said. “But you’re still going back to bed after this story”.

Jake rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, his smirk growing as he stepped closer to rest his hand on your arm, as if to reassure Ellie without saying anything.

Sam, who had been leaning silently against the doorway, let out a soft laugh and shook his head. “You’re raising a couple of night owls, you know that?”.

Dean shot him a mock glare. “Yeah, thanks for the observation, Mr. Perfect-Kid. You can go back to your room now”.

“Gladly”, Sam replied with a smirk, pushing off the doorway. “Good luck with bedtime round two. Merry Christmas”.

“Merry Christmas, Uncle Sam”, Jake called after him, earning another chuckle from Sam as he disappeared down the hallway.

With Sam gone, Dean turned his attention back to you and the kids. He reached out and gently took Ellie from your arms, shifting her easily onto his hip as if she weighed nothing. She yawned and leaned her head against his shoulder, her bunny dangling from her fingers.

“Alright”, Dean said, his voice soft but firm. “One more story. But that’s it. No excuses this time. Deal?”.

Ellie nodded, her fingers clutching the collar of Dean’s flannel. “Deal”, she mumbled.

Jake gave a little salute, his smirk still intact. “Deal”.

Dean shot you a knowing look, his lips twitching in a half-smile. “You coming, or do I have to tell this story solo?”.

“I’m coming”, you said, laughing softly as you followed them back to the kids’ room. Jake scampered ahead, already climbing into his bed and pulling the covers up to his chin. Dean sat down on the edge of Ellie’s bed, still holding her as she blinked sleepily up at him.

“What story tonight?”, Dean asked, his voice quieter now.

Ellie mumbled something about heroes again, her words barely audible, and Jake chimed in with, “And monsters! But the good guys win, like always”.

Dean smirked, glancing at you as you settled into the chair beside Ellie’s bed. “Heroes and monsters, huh? You kids are gonna grow up thinking hunting is some kind of fairy tale”.

“Not fairy tales”, Jake corrected, his grin wide. “Adventures”.

Dean chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright, adventures it is”. He adjusted Ellie in his lap, holding her close as he launched into one of his and Sam’s hunts—toned down, of course, with a few embellishments to make it sound like a grand, thrilling tale.

Ellie’s eyes grew heavier with every word, and Jake, though fighting it, began to yawn halfway through the story. By the time Dean finished, Ellie was fast asleep, her bunny tucked under her chin, and Jake was dozing, his head resting on his pillow.

Dean carefully laid Ellie down and pulled the blanket up around her, tucking her in snugly before standing. You leaned over to press a kiss to Jake’s forehead, smoothing his hair back gently.

The next morning, you stirred slightly, still wrapped in the warmth of the bed and the familiar weight of Dean’s arm draped across your waist. You were half-asleep, lost in the haze of early morning, when you felt the soft brush of lips against your cheek.

Dean was awake.

His kisses started gentle, barely brushing against your skin, before growing more deliberate. His lips moved from your cheek to your jawline, lingering there for a moment, warm and lazy. His scruff tickled slightly as his mouth trailed down to the curve of your neck. A soft, open-mouthed kiss followed, the heat of his breath sending a shiver down your spine.

“Morning”, he murmured against your skin, his voice rough with sleep.

You made a small sound in response, still too drowsy to form words. Dean chuckled softly, the deep rumble vibrating through his chest as his hand began to move, sliding slowly down from your waist to the hem of the shirt you were wearing—his old, worn AC/DC shirt that barely grazed mid-thigh.

His fingers brushed against the fabric lightly, teasingly, before slipping just underneath, grazing your bare skin. His touch was warm, deliberate, and achingly slow as his hand traveled along your hip.

“Dean…”, you mumbled, your voice still groggy but laced with amusement and warmth.

“Hm?”, he replied, his lips pressing another lazy kiss just below your ear. “Kids are still asleep. We’ve got time”.

You smiled faintly, your eyes still closed as you leaned into his touch. “Barely. They’ll be up in an hour”.

“An hour’s plenty”, he murmured, his hand sliding further under the shirt as his lips found your neck again, kissing a little more firmly this time. His thumb traced gentle circles against your hip, the touch soothing and tantalizing all at once.

You turned your head slightly, your nose brushing against his. “You’re really risking it, Winchester”.

Dean grinned, his mouth brushing yours in a kiss that was as playful as it was intimate. “Worth the risk”, he said, his voice low and teasing. “Besides, it’s Christmas. Can’t I wake my wife up with a little holiday cheer?”.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, finally opening your eyes to see his face inches from yours. His green eyes sparkled with that familiar mischievous glint, his smile equal parts boyish charm and devilish intent.

“You’re impossible”, you said, your voice carrying no real conviction as you reached up to tangle your fingers in his hair.

“And yet”, he replied, his grin widening as his hand skimmed up your thigh, “you love me anyway”.

“Lucky for you”, you teased, pulling him down into a kiss.

Dean’s smirk deepened as he shifted himself between your legs, the soft fabric of his sweatpants already discarded on the floor. His movements were unhurried, his hands warm and steady as they slid along your thighs, gently spreading them apart. The teasing, deliberate way he pulled your panties aside made your breath hitch, his knuckles grazing your skin as he moved.

He leaned down, his forehead brushing yours, his lips hovering just a breath away as he locked eyes with you. His green eyes gleamed with a mix of mischief and tenderness, the corners crinkling slightly as he grinned.

“Attempt number three for baby number three?”, he murmured, his voice low and teasing. His swollen tip brushed against your folds, the sensation sending a shiver through your body. He paused, grinning even wider as he added, “Or should I just wrap myself up? Merry Christmas and all”.

You snorted softly, shaking your head against the pillow. "You're ridiculous", you mumbled, your voice still thick with sleep, but the corner of your lips twitched in amusement.

Dean's grin didn’t falter. If anything, it grew wider. He nudged against you with his tip, teasingly brushing against your folds, just enough to make your breath hitch. His hands rested firmly on your thighs, his thumbs brushing against your skin in slow, lazy circles.

"You better answer", he murmured, his voice low and thick with that familiar playful edge, "or I’ll decide for myself". He dipped his head, his lips brushing the sensitive spot just below your ear. "And as you know", he added, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, "I hate being wrapped up".

A soft laugh bubbled from your lips, your hands sliding to his shoulders as you looked up at him, your gaze warm despite the teasing frustration in your tone. "Oh, poor you", you said, your fingers curling slightly against his skin. "Such a hardship".

Dean chuckled, his lips grazing your collarbone as he pressed closer, his weight settling against you in that perfect, familiar way. "Yeah, it is", he muttered, his tone mock-serious. He nudged against you again, this time with a bit more pressure, his breath hitching slightly as he felt you respond.

"Dean", you whispered, your voice soft but filled with equal parts exasperation and affection.

He rested his forehead against yours, his voice softer now as he murmured, "So, what’s it gonna be? Option one or option two?".

You sighed dramatically, though the smile tugging at your lips gave you away. "Fine", you said, your hands sliding to rest on his lower back. "Let’s try for number three".

Dean’s grin widened, and he pressed another kiss to your lips, this one filled with both triumph and affection. "That’s my girl".

Dean’s grin softened as he aligned himself, his eyes locked on yours, searching your face as if committing every detail to memory. Slowly, deliberately, he pressed forward, his swollen tip parting you with a gentle ease. His movements were unhurried, savoring the moment as he sunk deeper, a quiet grunt escaping his lips.

His forehead rested against yours, his breaths mingling with yours, warm and steady. He paused for a moment, giving you time to adjust, his hand sliding up your thigh to rest on your hip, his thumb brushing tender circles against your skin. Then, his lips found yours again, capturing them in a kiss that was both soft and consuming, filled with a love that ran deeper than words.

Your hands moved to his back, your fingers curling against his warm skin as he began to move, his hips rocking in a slow, deliberate rhythm. His quiet groans mixed with your soft gasps, the two of you melting into each other in the quiet stillness of the morning. His lips stayed on yours, sometimes breaking away to trail kisses along your jaw or murmur your name in that low, gravelly voice that always made your heart flutter.

Dean’s hand slid from your hip to lace his fingers with yours, pinning your hand gently beside your head as his pace remained slow and steady. He kissed you again, his lips lingering this time, his breath catching slightly as he pressed deeper, his movements careful yet filled with passion.

Dean’s movements were deliberate, his hips rocking against you with a rhythm that was uniquely his—something so unhurried yet devastatingly precise. It wasn’t rushed or frantic; it was intimate, passionate, and filled with a kind of love and care that only Dean could give. Each thrust was measured, purposeful, his body moving with yours as though the two of you had been perfectly designed to fit together.

You felt his breath against your skin, warm and steady, as his lips traced a path along your jawline and down your neck. His low groans vibrated against your skin, sending waves of warmth coursing through you. He tilted his hips slightly, the angle changing just enough to send sparks of pleasure radiating from your core. Dean’s name fell from your lips in a breathless gasp, and his mouth curved into a grin against your neck.

“Right there, huh?”, he murmured, his voice husky and low, as his movements became more deliberate. He hit that perfect spot again, and your back arched off the bed, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly. It was maddening how he could find it every time, how he knew your body so intimately after all these years.

Dean pulled back just enough to look at you, his green eyes blazing with intensity as he watched your reactions. “You’re so beautiful like this”, he whispered, his lips brushing yours. “Every time. Always”.

The way he said it, the raw honesty in his voice, made your chest tighten with emotion even as the pleasure built inside you, overwhelming and all-consuming. Your legs tightened around him instinctively, pulling him deeper, and he let out a quiet groan, his forehead pressing to yours as his hips rocked against you with just a little more force.

Dean’s grin widened, a flicker of pride flashing in his eyes as he felt your body respond to him, just like it always did. He knew exactly what he was doing, and his ego absolutely thrived on it. He never rushed, never stumbled—his confidence in how to handle you was unshakable, and it was maddeningly effective. He knew how to make you come, how to unravel you completely, and for him, it was almost too easy.

His hips pressed deeper, rolling against yours with deliberate precision, each thrust brushing that perfect spot inside you that had your breath catching and your nails digging into his shoulders. Dean’s quiet groans mixed with the soft sounds escaping your lips, and he couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at his mouth.

“Look at you”, he murmured, his voice thick with a mix of teasing and reverence. “Already so close, aren’t you? Always so easy for me”. His words weren’t taunting—they were filled with a heady mix of love and cocky pride, the kind only Dean could pull off.

You wanted to roll your eyes at him, to come up with some smart remark, but all that came out was a broken gasp as his hips shifted slightly, hitting you even deeper. He chuckled softly, his lips trailing along your neck, leaving warm kisses in his wake.

“That’s right”, he whispered, his hand sliding up to cup your cheek as he kissed you deeply, swallowing the sounds you made. “Let go for me, sweetheart. I’ve got you”.

It wasn’t just his words or his touch—it was the way he looked at you, his green eyes locked on yours as though you were the only thing that existed in the world. It was the way he moved, deliberate and passionate, completely focused on you. It was everything about him, all at once, that pushed you over the edge.

Your body tightened around him, a cry escaping your lips as the orgasm crashed over you, leaving you breathless and trembling.

Dean’s hips stuttered slightly as as he worked you through it. His breathing grew heavier, his quiet groans vibrating against your skin as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. He pressed deeper, his rhythm faltering as he gave in, a low, guttural sound escaping him as he spilled inside you.

The tension in his body melted away as he stilled, his forehead resting against your shoulder. His chest heaved against yours, his warm breath tickling your skin as he whispered your name, almost reverently. He stayed like that for a moment, his weight comforting and grounding, his hand lazily brushing along your side.

Slowly, he lifted his head, his green eyes soft as they found yours. His lips curved into a tired but satisfied grin, the kind that was uniquely Dean—equal parts smug and adoring.

“Now that”, he said, his voice still rough with lingering passion, “was a hell of a way to start Christmas”.

You couldn’t help the breathless laugh that bubbled up, your hands sliding to rest against his shoulders. “And here I thought the kids opening presents was supposed to be the highlight of the day”.

Dean smirked, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, this one slow and sweet, a stark contrast to the fire from moments before. “They can wait”, he murmured against your mouth, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. “This is my highlight”.

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest was undeniable. “You’re impossible, Winchester”.

“And yet”, he teased, grinning as he kissed you again, “you still married me”.

The two of you were still tangled in the quiet aftermath, basking in the warmth of each other, when the sound of Sam’s frustrated voice carried down the hallway.

“Ellie! Jake!”, Sam’s tone was exasperated, yet with that trademark calmness he always managed to maintain, even in chaos. “How many times do I have to tell you—stop hiding my toothbrush!”.

Dean groaned, dropping his head back against the pillow with a dramatic sigh. “And there goes the peace”, he muttered, though his smirk said he wasn’t entirely annoyed.

You stifled a laugh, pressing your hand over your mouth as Sam’s voice grew closer, clearly still trying to track down the culprits. “What do you think the odds are that they’ll deny it this time?”, you asked, raising an amused eyebrow.

Dean chuckled, sitting up slightly to rest on his elbows. “Oh, they’ll deny it. And then Jake’ll throw Ellie under the bus”.

Before you could reply, another voice joined the commotion in the hallway—Caleb’s, Sam’s ten-year-old son. “Dad!”, Caleb called, his tone half-annoyed, half-panicked. “I can’t find my toothbrush either! Did they take mine too?”.

Dean let out a full laugh now, shaking his head as he glanced over at you. “Well, guess we know what they’ve been up to”.

You snorted, sliding out from under the blanket and reaching for the nearest shirt—still Dean’s, of course. “Should we intervene, or let Sam handle it?”.

Dean leaned back lazily, folding his arms behind his head, his smirk wide. “Let him handle it. He’s got this”.

The sound of Ellie and Jake’s giggling reached your ears next, along with Sam’s resigned sigh. “Guys, this is the third time this week. I need my toothbrush. And Caleb needs his, too. Just tell me where you hid them”.

Ellie’s voice piped up, cheerful and completely unrepentant. “We didn’t hide it, Uncle Sam! Maybe the monsters took it”.

Dean swung his legs over the side of the bed, reaching for his sweatpants as he grinned at you. “Guess I should go rescue Sammy before he loses it completely”.

You laughed, grabbing his arm before he could get up. “You’ll just make it worse, and you know it”.

“Exactly”, Dean said, his grin widening. “What’s Christmas without a little chaos?”.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop smiling as the sound of the kids’ laughter and Sam’s exasperated attempts to rein them in filled the bunker. It was chaotic, sure, but it was also home.

Dean swung the bedroom door open, stepping out into the hallway wearing nothing but his sweatpants. His hair was a mess, sticking up in all directions, and his smirk was firmly in place as he leaned against the doorframe. His bare chest caught the dim light of the bunker, and his presence immediately drew the attention of everyone in the hallway.

Sam stood there, arms crossed, his expression a mix of exasperation and long-suffering patience. Ellie and Jake were huddled together just a few feet away, their faces plastered with matching innocent grins that Dean could see through in an instant. Caleb, already taller and more composed than most ten-year-olds, stood off to the side with his hands on his hips, looking equally annoyed and amused.

Dean raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening as his eyes landed on his twins. “Alright”, he drawled, his voice still rough from sleep. “Who’s messing with Uncle Sammy’s toothbrush this time?”.

Ellie giggled, clutching her bunny closer to her chest as she tried to look innocent. “Not me!”, she chirped, her tone far too cheerful to be convincing.

Jake, true to Dean’s earlier prediction, pointed at Ellie without hesitation. “She did it!”, he declared, his voice a little too eager. “I told her not to, but she wouldn’t listen”.

“Jake!”, Ellie squeaked, her eyes wide with mock betrayal. “That’s not true!”.

Dean sighted, running a hand through his messy hair as he stepped closer.

Jake pouted, crossing his arms. “I didn’t do it! It was her idea this time!”.

Caleb groaned, clearly fed up with the entire situation. “I just want my toothbrush back”, he muttered, looking at his cousins with a raised eyebrow. “You can’t keep stealing them!”.

Sam shot Dean a pointed look, his expression screaming control your kids. Dean just grinned back, completely unfazed. “Alright, alright”, he said, holding up his hands. “Let’s cut a deal. You two”, he pointed at Ellie and Jake, “tell Uncle Sam and Caleb where the toothbrushes are, and maybe Santa doesn’t hear about this little stunt”.

Ellie’s eyes widened, and she clutched her bunny even tighter. “You wouldn’t tell Santa!”, she gasped, her voice full of dramatic disbelief.

Jake’s resolve faltered, and he glanced at Ellie before mumbling, “Fine. They’re in the cereal box”.

Sam blinked, his arms dropping to his sides. “The cereal box?”.

Dean laughed, shaking his head as he clapped Sam on the shoulder. “Gotta hand it to ‘em, Sammy. That’s creative”.

Sam just sighed, muttering something under his breath as he turned toward the kitchen. Caleb followed after him, shaking his head as he glanced back at his cousins. “You guys are so weird”, he said, though his tone was more amused than annoyed.

Dean crouched down to the twins’ level, his smirk softening into something more affectionate. “Alright, you two”, he said, his voice quieter. “What’s the deal with the toothbrush thing, huh? You trying to drive Uncle Sam crazy?”.

Ellie looked down at her bunny, her lower lip jutting out in a pout. “We were just playing”, she mumbled. “It was funny”.

Dean sighed, reaching out to ruffle her hair. “Yeah, it’s funny until Uncle Sam loses it and makes you scrub the bathroom for a week. You wanna deal with that?”.

Jake shook his head quickly, his eyes wide. “No”.

“Good”, Dean said, standing up and crossing his arms. “Now, go help him find them. And no more hiding stuff, got it?”.

“Yes, Daddy”, they chorused, their voices small but sincere.

Dean watched as they scampered off toward the kitchen, and he couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. Turning back toward the bedroom, he caught your amused expression.

Dean’s grin widened when he saw you leaning against the doorframe, your messy hair and his AC/DC shirt hanging loosely on your frame. He gave you a once-over, then nodded toward the bathroom with a suggestive lift of his eyebrows.

“Wanna take a shower?”, he asked, his voice low and teasing, though the mischievous twinkle in his eye made it clear he wasn’t just talking about getting clean.

You were about to reply when Sam’s voice cut in sharply. “Nope. No way. You two aren’t disappearing on me right now”.

Dean turned slowly, raising an eyebrow as he looked over his shoulder at Sam, who was standing there with Caleb and the twins, all three kids looking suspiciously close to starting another round of chaos.

“Come on, Sammy”, Dean said, his voice dripping with mock indignation. “You can handle breakfast for twenty minutes”.

Sam’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, sure. Because last time I ‘handled breakfast’, I had to explain to Caleb why Jake thought peanut butter went on the stove, and Ellie was using syrup as hair gel”.

Dean snorted, turning fully to face his brother. “You’re telling me you can face down demons and angels, but you can’t manage two five-year-olds and a ten-year-old for twenty minutes?”.

Sam opened his mouth, clearly ready to argue, but Dean held up a hand, his expression turning serious—or as serious as he could manage with his sweatpants slung low on his hips and his hair still sticking up.

“Sam”, Dean said, his tone low and firm, “it’s Christmas. Give us a break. Twenty minutes. That’s all I’m asking”.

Sam sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose before glaring at Dean. “Fine. But if I find syrup anywhere it doesn’t belong—”.

“You won’t”, Dean said quickly, his grin returning. “They’re angels”.

Sam muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like yeah, right before shooing the kids back toward the kitchen. “Alright, come on, you three. Let’s see if we can make pancakes without burning the bunker down”.

Ellie and Jake cheered, bounding after him with Caleb trailing behind, looking both amused and resigned.

As soon as they disappeared, Dean turned back to you, his grin now entirely unrestrained. “See? Twenty minutes. Plenty of time”.

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “And what exactly are we doing in these twenty minutes?”.

Dean stepped closer, his hands sliding around your waist as he pulled you flush against him. “You agreed to the shower”, he said, his voice dropping into that low, gravelly tone that made your knees weak. “I’m just making sure you don’t back out”.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your smile as he leaned down to kiss you, slow and lingering. “Alright”, you said against his lips. “Twenty minutes”.

Dean smirked, pulling you toward the bathroom. “You know I can work with that”.

Behind you, the faint sound of Sam’s exasperated voice carried from the kitchen, followed by Ellie’s laughter and Jake’s declaration that syrup was “just fancy hair gel”.

Dean chuckled, shaking his head as he closed the bathroom door behind you. “Angels”, he repeated, his voice full of affectionate sarcasm. “Absolute angels”.

After the fourth attempt at trying for baby number three, you and Dean finally emerged from the bathroom, freshly showered and dressed, the lingering steam from the hot water clinging faintly to your skin. The scent of Dean’s cologne mixed with the cozy aroma of pancakes and syrup wafting from the kitchen. As you walked in, you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the kids gathered around the table, the twins buzzing with excitement while Caleb calmly helped make sure everything was in place.

Ellie and Jake had already set the table with plates, forks, and napkins—though not all of them were straight, and Ellie had stacked three napkins on her plate for some reason. Caleb was pouring juice into cups with the steady precision of someone who had been here before, a slight grin on his face as Jake talked a mile a minute about all the presents under the tree.

“We set it up, Mommy!”, Ellie exclaimed proudly, holding her bunny in one hand as she gestured at the slightly messy table with the other. “Is it good?”.

“It’s perfect”, you said warmly, walking over to ruffle her hair before noticing her sleeves. “But let’s get these up, okay? Don’t want syrup all over your jammies”.

Ellie giggled as you gently rolled up the sleeves of her favorite snowflake-patterned pajamas. Just as you finished, Dean’s phone buzzed on the counter, the screen lighting up with a familiar name.

Dean grabbed it, smirking as he saw Jodie’s name flashing. “Looks like the cavalry’s here”, he muttered before answering. “Hey, Jodie. Merry Christmas”.

Before he could get another word in, Caleb bolted toward the door, shouting, “Auntie Jodie! Auntie Jodie’s here!”.

Dean shook his head, grinning as he hung up the phone. “Guess I didn’t need to answer after all”.

You chuckled as Caleb yanked open the heavy bunker door, his voice echoing through the hallway.

Sure enough, standing just outside in the frosty morning air was Jodie, her two girls—Claire and Alex—beside her, all bundled up against the cold. Donna stood to the side, her signature bright smile lighting up the moment, while Castiel and Jack stood behind them, looking equally festive despite Cas’s usual stoicism. In Jodie and Donna’s hands were several large bags, overflowing with brightly wrapped Christmas presents.

“About time you let us in!”, Jodie teased, stepping forward as Caleb flung his arms around her waist.

Donna laughed, hefting the bags higher. “We were starting to think you guys were still asleep!”.

Jack grinned, his enthusiasm bubbling over as he hugged Caleb. “Merry Christmas!”, he exclaimed, his eyes darting to the twins, who were already bouncing in place at the sight of all the presents. “We brought a lot of stuff!”.

“I can see that”, you said with a laugh, helping Donna with one of her bags. “Did you guys empty the store or what?”.

“Oh, you know”, Jodie said, her tone casual but her smile warm. “Just a little something for everyone”.

Claire rolled her eyes but smiled as she set her bag down by the tree. “You mean a lot of something for everyone”.

As everyone settled into the kitchen, the sounds of laughter, conversation, and clinking plates filled the bunker, the space alive with the kind of warmth that only came from being surrounded by family—both the one you were born into and the one you chose.

An hour later, the bunker’s usually stoic and cold atmosphere had transformed into a scene of warmth and chaos around the glowing Christmas tree. Wrapping paper and ribbons were scattered across the floor, the remnants of enthusiastic unwrapping now forgotten as everyone enjoyed their new gifts. The soft twinkle of lights illuminated the room, casting a warm glow on the smiling faces around you.

Jake sat in your lap on the floor, completely engrossed in his new dinosaur toy, his small hands moving it around as he made roaring noises. You leaned back against Dean, his arms wrapped snugly around your waist, his warmth anchoring you in the midst of the joyful commotion.

Ellie was sprawled on the floor nearby, her bunny nestled by her side as she played with a doll Jodie had brought her, already inventing an elaborate story involving an adventure in a magical forest. Caleb sat beside her, tinkering with a new model kit, his focus intense as he explained the mechanics to Jack, who listened with wide-eyed curiosity.

Dean’s hand rested lightly on your knee, his thumb brushing against your leg absentmindedly as he surveyed the scene. “Look at ‘em”, he murmured, his voice soft and full of pride. “Like a bunch of happy little squirrels”.

You laughed quietly, leaning your head back against his shoulder. “It’s chaos, but the good kind”.

He kissed your temple, his scruff brushing against your skin. “Yeah. This is the kinda chaos I could get used to”.

Across the room, Jodie and Donna were sitting on the couch, laughing together as they admired their gifts. Donna held up a fuzzy scarf that Claire had picked out for her, wrapping it dramatically around her neck as she struck a pose. “How do I look?”, she asked, grinning.

“Like a movie star”, Jodie teased, shaking her head. “A really dramatic one”.

Claire rolled her eyes from her spot on the floor, but a small smile tugged at her lips as Alex nudged her playfully. Castiel, ever the observer, sat quietly in a chair, his gaze fixed on the tree as if he were contemplating the deeper meaning of its existence.

Jack was perched on the edge of the couch, his face lit with excitement as he examined a book Jodie had given him on Earth’s natural wonders. “Did you know there’s a lake that glows in the dark?”, he asked Caleb, his voice filled with awe.

Caleb nodded, still focused on his kit. “Yeah, bioluminescence. It’s pretty cool”.

Dean chuckled softly, his chest rumbling against your back. “Leave it to Jack and Caleb to turn Christmas into a science lesson”.

Jake, oblivious to the conversation, looked up at you suddenly, his dinosaur still clutched in his hands. “Mommy, look! He can roar like this!”, He made a loud, exaggerated roar, his face scrunched up in concentration.

You grinned, smoothing his messy hair as you played along. “Wow, that’s a scary roar!".

"I think he might be the loudest dinosaur in the whole bunker”, Jack said.

Dean smirked, leaning forward slightly to ruffle Jake’s hair. “I dunno, kid. I think your Uncle Sammy might give him a run for his money”.

Sam, who was sitting cross-legged nearby and flipping through a new book, glanced up with a raised eyebrow. “I heard that”.

Dean winked, clearly unapologetic. “Yeah, you did”.

The laughter and chatter carried on, the room filled with the unmistakable sound of family—messy, chaotic, but completely full of love. You glanced around at everyone, your heart swelling as you took in the scene. This was what Christmas was supposed to feel like.

Dean’s arms tightened around you slightly, and when you looked up at him, his green eyes were soft and content as they met yours. “This is a pretty damn good Christmas, huh?”, he said, his voice low so only you could hear.

You smiled, resting your hand over his. “Yeah, it really is”.

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, holding you a little closer. “And it’s not over yet”, he said with a grin. “Still gotta watch the twins try to eat their body weight in cookies”.

You laughed, closing your eyes briefly as you leaned into him.

Ellie and Jake suddenly stood up, exchanging exaggerated whispers that had everyone turning to watch them curiously. Jake glanced back toward the couch, giving Ellie a quick nod before the two of them ducked behind it, giggling quietly as they rummaged for something.

“What are they up to now?”, Dean muttered, raising an eyebrow but smiling fondly. His arm tightened around your waist, keeping you close as he watched his kids with amusement.

Moments later, the twins emerged triumphantly, holding a small, brightly colored bag. It was obvious they’d been saving this for the right moment, and their matching grins could barely contain their excitement. Without a word, they turned and marched straight toward Castiel, who was still seated near the Christmas tree, quietly observing the scene.

Cas tilted his head slightly as the twins approached, his usual stoic expression giving way to curiosity. The twins stopped in front of him, their smiles widening as they held the bag out together.

“Merry Christmas, Uncle Cas!”, Ellie declared, her voice bright and filled with excitement.

“Yeah! Merry Christmas!”, Jake chimed in, bouncing slightly on his toes.

Castiel blinked, his piercing blue eyes moving from the twins to the bag, then back to the twins. “This is for me?”, he asked, his tone laced with genuine surprise, as if the thought of receiving a gift hadn’t even crossed his mind.

“Of course!”, Ellie said, nudging the bag closer to him. “You’re our favorite uncle!”.

Jake nodded eagerly, adding, “Yeah, you’re funny. Like, the way you talk and stuff. It’s, like… cool”.

Dean let out a quiet chuckle behind you, muttering, “Well, that’s one way to put it”.

Cas’s head tilted even further, his expression unreadable for a moment as he processed their words. Then, slowly, a small, genuine smile appeared on his face—the kind of rare, warm smile that made everyone in the room stop for a second.

“Thank you”, Cas said, his voice soft and sincere. He took the bag carefully, as though it were something fragile and precious. “I… appreciate this gesture. Merry Christmas to you both”.

Ellie and Jake beamed, clearly proud of themselves. They stepped back, watching eagerly as Cas opened the bag. Inside, he found a small, hand-painted ornament—a slightly crooked angel with golden wings and a blue trench coat, its expression remarkably serious.

Cas held up the ornament, studying it with that same intense focus he brought to everything. “It’s you, Uncle Cas!”, Ellie explained, bouncing on her toes. “We made it! Well, Mommy helped a little”.

Jake nodded. “Yeah, it’s your coat and your serious face! You can hang it on the tree!”.

Cas stared at the ornament for a long moment, his lips twitching as though he were trying to understand why the kids had chosen him for such a tribute. “It’s… accurate”, he said finally, his voice thoughtful.

The room burst into laughter, even Sam cracking a rare grin as Donna doubled over with a wheezing chuckle. “Oh, Cas”, she said, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. “Never change”.

Cas looked up at Ellie and Jake, who were grinning from ear to ear. His expression softened, and he nodded solemnly. “Thank you. I will treasure this”.

Ellie and Jake’s smiles widened, and they darted forward to hug him, surprising the stoic angel. He hesitated for only a moment before carefully placing the ornament back in the bag and returning their hugs, his movements slightly stiff but no less genuine.

Dean leaned over to you, his grin wide and teasing. “They’re right, you know. Cas is basically a cat in human form. Aloof most of the time, but when he decides he likes you, you’re stuck with him”.

You laughed softly, resting your head against his shoulder. “They adore him. It’s kind of perfect”.

“Merry Christmas, Cas”, Dean said, his voice soft but full of warmth.

Castiel’s blue eyes shifted to Dean, his face as calm and serious as ever, though his words carried the weight of a casually dropped bombshell. “Merry Christmas, Dean”, he said, before adding, in the same matter-of-fact tone, “Oh, and congratulations on child number three”.

The room went silent.

Ellie and Jake paused mid-conversation, their heads whipping around to look at you and Dean with matching expressions of surprise and curiosity. Jodie’s mug of coffee froze halfway to her lips, her brows shooting up. Donna’s jaw dropped, and even Claire stopped fiddling with the wrapper of a chocolate Santa.

Dean, for his part, blinked at Cas, his arms tightening around you instinctively as his brain worked to catch up. “I’m sorry, what?”, he finally managed, his voice cracking slightly.

Cas tilted his head, his expression neutral, as though he were oblivious to the bombshell he’d just dropped. “The child you conceived this morning”, he said patiently, as if clarifying something simple. “It will grow strong and healthy. Congratulations”.

Your mouth opened, but no sound came out. You turned to Dean, who was now gaping at Cas like the angel had sprouted a second head. “Cas”, Dean finally said, his voice strained. “Are you… are you serious right now?”.

Cas nodded solemnly. “Of course. I wouldn’t joke about something so significant”.

Donna choked on her coffee, sputtering as she tried to recover. “Uh, am I hearing this right?”, she asked, looking between you and Dean. “Is this, like, angel-level baby news?”.

Jodie covered her mouth with her hand, clearly trying not to laugh as her eyes sparkled with amusement. “Oh, this is gonna be good”.

Dean’s eyes darted to the twins, who were staring at you both with wide eyes. “Wait a minute—Ellie, Jake, uh… you guys don’t even know what Cas is talking about, right?”, he asked, suddenly looking panicked.

Ellie tilted her head, her little brows furrowing. “Does it mean we’re getting a baby for Christmas?”.

Jake gasped, his excitement palpable. “Like a baby brother?".

Dean groaned, scrubbing a hand down his face as he muttered, “Oh, for the love of—Cas, you couldn’t have said this later?”.

“I thought you’d like to know”, Cas said simply, looking genuinely confused by the commotion. “It’s joyous news, isn’t it?”.

You finally managed to speak, your cheeks flushed and your voice a little shaky. “Cas”, you said, holding up a hand, “you… you’re saying it worked?”.

“Yes”, Cas replied with a small nod. “The energy surrounding you both was unmistakable”.

Jodie finally let out a laugh, shaking her head. “Well, congrats, you two”, she said, her tone warm but teasing. “I guess we know what you were doing this morning”.

Dean groaned again, burying his face against your shoulder.

Sam threw his head back dramatically, letting out a long, exaggerated groan before turning toward Caleb, who was still sitting on the floor with a model kit in his hands. “Caleb”, Sam said, his voice filled with mock desperation, “we need backup”.

Dean’s hand rested protectively on your belly, his fingers splayed across the fabric of your shirt as though it were the most natural place for them to be. He didn’t even seem to realize it, his focus entirely on teasing Sam as the room buzzed with laughter. But you felt the warmth of his touch, grounding and comforting, and it sent a wave of emotion through you.

As you watched him, you couldn’t help but remember how he had been six years ago when you were pregnant with Ellie and Jake. Back then, Dean’s protectiveness had been a force of nature. He had insisted on doing almost everything for you—cooking, carrying anything remotely heavy, even trying (and failing) to assemble the crib himself without asking Sam for help. He’d hovered over you like a mother hen, always checking if you needed anything, always making sure you were comfortable and safe.

You smiled to yourself at the memory of him sneaking out in the middle of the night to get you a very specific brand of ice cream because you’d mentioned craving it once. Or how he’d built up an entire arsenal of baby books, even if he claimed he didn’t need them because “it’s instinct, babe”.

And now, seeing him so casually yet instinctively protective, even before you were showing or feeling the full weight of the pregnancy, reminded you just how much Dean cared—how deeply he loved his family.

“Sammy”, Dean drawled, grinning as he gestured toward the twins, who were still buzzing with excitement. “You’re just jealous because my kids already have a battle plan for world domination, and you can barely get Caleb to do the dishes”.

Caleb smirked from his spot on the floor, holding up his hands. “Hey, I do the dishes. Sometimes”.

“See?”, Dean shot back, his grin widening. “Meanwhile, I’ve got a baby on the way and two kids already training to take over the family business”.

Sam groaned, rubbing his temples. “Oh, yeah, the family business. Great. You’re turning them into mini versions of you”.

“Damn straight”, Dean said, his tone proud. “Best Christmas gift ever”.

You laughed softly, resting your hand on top of Dean’s where it still lay against your stomach. The motion caught his attention, and his teasing expression softened instantly when he looked at you. His green eyes met yours, a quiet, unspoken emotion passing between you.

“You okay?”, he murmured, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

“I’m perfect”, you replied, your smile widening as you squeezed his hand. “You?”.

His lips quirked into a softer smile as he laced his fingers with yours. “Never better”.

"Merry Christmas, Dean”, you whispered, tilting your head just enough to press a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. His hand on your belly tightened slightly, and you felt him smile against your mouth before he murmured back, “Merry Christmas, sweetheart”.

Before the moment could deepen, a loud chorus of exaggerated gagging noises erupted from nearby. “Ewww!”, Jake groaned dramatically, scrunching his nose. “Gross!”.

“Disgusting!”, Ellie added, clutching her bunny to her chest as she made an exaggerated barfing sound.

Even Caleb, normally the calm and composed one, couldn’t resist joining in with a muttered, “Seriously, get a room”.

Dean pulled back from the kiss with a laugh, shaking his head as he looked at the kids, all of whom were now thoroughly invested in making the most dramatic gagging noises they could muster. His hand stayed on your belly, his thumb brushing against you in that comforting, protective way that made your heart flutter every time.

“Alright, alright”, Dean said, his smirk widening as he shot the kids a mock-stern look. “You can stop with the barf noises. We get it—you’re all scarred for life”.

Jake crossed his arms, still pouting. “I’m telling Santa about this”.

Ellie, clutching her bunny tightly, nodded with a mischievous grin. “Yeah, Santa should know what you’ve been doing”.

Dean let out a loud laugh, shaking his head. “Oh, really? You’re gonna tattle on your own parents to Santa? Good luck with that, kiddo”.

“You’re both impossible”, you added with a laugh, shaking your head as the twins dissolved into giggles, their earlier protests forgotten. Caleb just rolled his eyes and muttered something about needing earplugs next Christmas.

Jodie, sitting on the couch, leaned over to Donna with a grin. “You know, I think this might be the most entertaining Christmas we’ve had yet”.

Donna nodded, chuckling as she sipped her coffee. “Definitely. And the most chaotic”.

Castiel, who had been quietly observing the entire exchange, tilted his head slightly. “I fail to understand why the children find displays of affection so objectionable. It is a natural expression of love”.

Dean barked out another laugh, pointing at Cas. “See? Even the angel gets it”.

You shook your head with a smile, leaning back against Dean as the room filled with laughter and playful teasing. The twins went back to their toys, Caleb resumed tinkering with his model kit, and the rest of the family settled into the warm, easy rhythm of Christmas morning.

Dean leaned closer to you, his voice low so only you could hear. “Crazy, isn’t it? This life, these kids, a new baby on the way…”.

You glanced up at him, catching the quiet wonder in his green eyes. “It’s crazy,” you admitted softly, lacing your fingers with his where his hand still rested on your belly. “But it’s ours. And I wouldn’t trade it for anything”.

Dean smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. “Me neither, sweetheart. Me neither”.

As the kids’ laughter echoed through the room and the twinkling lights of the tree cast a warm glow over the bunker, you felt a profound sense of peace. This was your family—messy, chaotic, loud, and so full of love it was almost overwhelming.

And as you sat there, wrapped in Dean’s arms and surrounded by the people you cared about most, you couldn’t help but think that this was the kind of Christmas you’d always dreamed of—perfect in its imperfection, filled with laughter, love, and the promise of everything good yet to come.

———————————

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

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