#waiting waiting waiting for her child to return

[pboogerswbb]

LET IT SNOW

Paige Bueckers x reader In which Paige and reader spend a snowy day babysitting reader's niece and nephew (loosely based on a request i got weeks ago) Warnings: fluff, suggestiveish? very very very sweet, will make you sick (fluff is very hard for me to write ok be nice) Wordcount: 2.9K A/C: happy christmas eve everyone <3 this is my christmas present to y'all so enjoy this while i take some time to rest and spend time with my family :) unfortunately that means you gotta wait for chapter 2 of so it goes for a little longer but i want to take a break for a few days from writing over christmas! i hope you understand. everyone who celebrates christmas pls spend it eating, drinking (if you're of age), and don't kill your family pls (i know that's much to ask over the holidays let's be real). i'll return to writing so it goes post christmas! MERRY CHRISTMAS GUYS <3

-

“There’s a list of allergies on the fridge, if Mia throws a fit just put her in the stroller and walk her around for a bit, if she won’t calm down call me. Whatever you see in the fridge you can eat, and call me whenever! I’ll have my ringer up and-”

“Chloe-”

“and really call me whenever you need to! And have your ringer up too!”

“Chloe!”

Your aunt’s husband is pulling on her arm, trying to get her further than the front door but 10 minutes have already been spent going through everything for the day.

“Auntie Chlo we’ve babysat before. They’re in good hands,” you reassure, smiling brightly at her. She inhales deeply and chuckles when she realises how long she’s been rambling for.

“You’re right, the kids love you. Especially you Paige, they’ve missed you. Been showing them clips of your games!” Your aunt says, head tilting upwards to look at the blonde girl standing behind you, hands wrapped around your waist. 

You and Paige had been dating for over a year now, celebrating your first of what would be many anniversaries. In that short amount of time the blonde had made her way into the depths of your closest circle, becoming a part of your family. It happened effortlessly, the way she fit into your life, the way she clicked with your relatives. You swore they loved her more than you at this point. This was about to be the first Christmas she ever spent with your family, and just the idea of her with all your loved ones made your chest fill with warmth.

So when your aunt Chloe called you in a crisis on Christmas Eve, her babysitter getting sick at the last minute, you and Paige were quick to agree to look after your nearly 2-year-old niece Mia and 7-year-old nephew Leo. 

“Go! We got this aight,” Paige reassures, resting her chin on the top of your head as she does.

Pulled away by her husband, your auntie waves goodbye and closes the door, leaving you and Paige alone with the kids standing behind you. Before you can even react, Mia’s lower lip begins to quiver, the sight of her mother gone upsetting the small child. 

“Uh oh,” you mumble, Paige swiftly making her way to the little girl and picking her up, pouting her own lower lip to mirror the child.

“Are you sad because you miss mama? She’ll be back later, I promise,” Paige coos to Mia, rocking her in her arms. She’s wearing a white t-shirt despite the snow outside, for some reason she was always warm, and her biceps were growing more prominent as she held the child by her hip. The sight of Paige comforting your niece made your heart flutter, making it hard to tear your eyes away. watching Mia bury her face into the crook of Paige’s neck.

“We’ve got a really fun day planned for you!” You gleam at both of the children, ruffling Leo’s hair. He laughs but pushes your hand off, running to the kitchen.

“Can I have a cookie?” The boy asks, clearly taking advantage of the moment that his parents’ watchful eyes weren’t around.

“No-” you start but Paige is already following him to the kitchen. She was such a pushover, always had been with the kids. Just some pouting, eyes batting and she was ready to bend every which way for them.

“Paige!” You complain as the blonde easily reaches to the top shelf, grabbing a jar of chocolate chip cookies.

“What?” She asks unbothered by your scolding, handing a cookie to Leo, and taking a bite of one herself. “Wanted a cookie,” she mumbles, her mouth full.

“Cookie! Gimme!” Mia babbles, short hands reaching for the cookie your girlfriend is holding between her teeth.

“Oh good God…” you groan, rubbing your forehead, already knowing this was going to be a long day if the kids had the blonde wrapped around their finger this much already. But when Mia giggles as Paige feeds her a part of the cookie, you decide not to care. If there was a time to spoil the kids it was on Christmas Eve.

“C’mere,” Paige nods you over, grabbing another cookie. You scurry into the kitchen, grabbing Mia from her and kissing the little girl’s forehead. She giggles brightly, clearly in a much better mood. You nuzzle your nose into her soft cheek, eliciting more laughs from the baby. The whole time Paige can’t look away even for a second, her heart fluttering with affection. Paige was completely in love with you, and seeing you like this only made her feel it more.

“What are we gonna dooo all day?” Leo interrupts the moment, yanking on Paige’s shirt. She grins and ruffles his hair affectionately. Leo and Paige had bonded quickly the first time they met, and now they’re best friends. In fact Leo facetimes Paige weekly on your aunt’s phone.

“We’ve got some ideas.” The blonde says smirking.

-

The weather is perfect, the gentle winter sun not warming but making everything brighter as the rays reflect off the snow. Snowflakes fall softly from the sky, adding to the already covered ground as you walk behind Leo and Paige, holding Mia in your arms, trying to catch your breath as you climb on top of a hill.

“Isn’t this high enough?” You ask, glancing down, worrying that Leo would be too scared to get on the sled. Predictably so, the two in front of you look over their shoulders, immediately uttering the word “no” in unison

“Auntie Paigey and your big brother have gone cray cray,” you murmur to the babbling Mia, wrapped in her warmest winter gear. 

“Okay, here’s good!” Paige says, finally putting the sled she was carrying down, looking around the group.

“You wanna go first Leo?”

Suddenly the boy looks down, hesitating. It’s pretty steep, especially at first. You could tell he felt unsure, but Paige noticed it too.

“I’m actually lowkey scared, can we ride down together?” She asks, covering for the boy. For a moment your eyes meet with hers, wanting nothing more but to kiss her right now. Paige always had you weak in the knees, but the way she skillfully handled kids only made you love her more.

“Okay we can go together I guess,” Leo complains, deep down relieved. They sit down on the sled, Paige behind the boy, ready to steer.

“Wait!” She yelps, turning to you, blinking fast. “Kiss for good luck.”

Apparently she’d been feeling the same about the kiss.

Humming, you place Mia down on the ground to play with the snow, leaning close to Paige. Her warm lips press into yours, in a loving, gentle peck that let you know she wanted to do so much more, if it wasn’t for the company.

“Yuck!” Leo whines, making both of you giggle.

“Hey, have some respect for your auntie,” Paige grins and pushes the sled forward. Suddenly they’re riding down at such speed you can barely watch. Someone was bound to get hurt.

Both of them scream as the speed accelerates, the sounds echoing in the air. To your surprise they both make it all the way down safe and sound, Paige stopping the sled and jumping off.

“That was so fast!” Leo chuckles hysterically, making your girlfriend laugh too. You could hear them laughing all the way up where you were standing. 

“Ball,” Mia babbles, pointing at a pile of snow. Giggling, you sit down on the ground next to her, beginning to roll one snowball after the other and handing them to the girl. 

“Look Mia!” You gasp to get her attention. Her wide eyes turn to you, long eyelashes fluttering as she watches. You throw a snowball into the air, Mia’s eyes following as it crashes to the ground. Immediately she claps, a wide smile on her face to reward your efforts.

“Babe it’s your turn,” Paige’s voice says as she’s climbing up, trying to catch her breath.

You scoff, continuing to play with the snow for Mia. “Not happening P,”

“Oh you’re scared huh?” The blonde teases, a smug smirk spreading across her face.

Leo gasps. “It’s not scary at all! I was scared at first too!”

You roll your eyes, not falling for their games. 

“I’m playing with my girl here, you boys leave us alone,” you say, poking your tongue out at your girlfriend. She scoffs loud, walking over to you and wrapping her arms around your waist, lifting you up and throwing you over her shoulder with ease.

Leo laughs loud, pointing at the two of you. “Paige is not a boy!”

“Let me down!” You yelp, kicking your legs and arms but it’s no use. She’s much too strong, carrying you towards the sled. Your squeals make Mia laugh loudly, a wide smile spread on her face.

“Look after your sis for a bit, aight?” Paige tells Leo, placing you down on the sled. You’re still giggling, shaking your head.

“I’m not gonna! It’s scary!” You laugh, the blonde sitting snug behind you on the sled, wrapping her legs around you.

“Don’t be such a wuss,” she teases, her arms wrapping over your waist. Leaning in, you feel her hot air tickling against your ear as she whispers. “I gotchu ma, don’t worry.”

With that, Paige pushes off the snowy ground, holding onto you tight. Quickly the speed picks up, fluttering in the pit of your stomach. The freezing cold air tingles against your skin and your eyes water from the cold as you laugh.

“Ahhh P-“ you scream, turning your gaze backwards and finding that, to your shock, the blonde behind you is pushing on the ground to make you go even faster. “STOP!”

Paige giggles into your ear, her arms wrapping around you tight to hold you close. Soon it’s over as you reach the base of the hill, the speed finally slowing down and flutters in your abdomen disappearing.

“Told you it wasn’t so scary,” the blonde grins, helping you up.

“Uh yes it was,” you laugh, grabbing a handful of snow and throwing it at the girl in front of you. Some of it gets onto her face, making Paige pause.

Her mouth turns into a tight smile and her blue eyes widen. Immediately you know you’re in trouble.

“Oh it’s like that huh?” She says and you squeal, already beginning to run when she starts to throw the powdery snow all over you.

“No no no no please!” You can barely breathe, gasping for air and trying to run, the snowy ground making your steps heavy. Paige, being a D1 athlete, easily reaches you. 

“Oh so now you regret it!” She laughs, snow falling into your coat, down your neck, making you scream louder as the girl chasing you wraps her arms around your waist, spinning you in the air. 

“Stop! Paige!”

“Say please,” she orders, her tone lighthearted.

You roll your eyes, hating having to admit defeat, but knowing it must be done.

“Fine! Please, please stop Paige please,” you whine, batting your wide eyes at the girl. She looks at you, finally putting you down and kissing your forehead.

“Wanna hear you just like that later,” she whispers the dirty words into your ear, lips brushing against your skin, tingling. Before you can scoff or tell her off, Mia’s loud cry disrupts the moment.

Both you and Paige hurry up the hill, towards Leo who’s holding his sister, bouncing him gently to soothe the little girl.

“What happened?” You ask, swiftly scooping Mia from the boy and trying her cheeks to see if she was cold. Nope, perfectly toasty from all the layers.

“Nothing! She just started crying!”

But then, studying her face, you notice the redness of her eyes, her mittened hands trying to rub them desperately.

“Aw, she’s sleepy,” Paige says, like reading your mind, grabbing the sled. 

“We should probably head back, she needs to take a nap,” you murmur, trying to soothe the girl in your arms, ear-piercing screams and cries spilling from her mouth.

All four of you hurry to the car, but no attempts to calm Mia down help. She’s exhausted, plump bottom lip quivering as she keeps crying the whole drive home. You could feel yourself getting exhausted, the loud noise becoming overwhelming and stressful. Paige could see it too, the way you were sighing and taking deep breaths. So when you return to the house, she grabs your hand and kisses it before getting up from the car.

“I’ll take her to bed okay? You rest ma,” she murmurs. Relief spreads all over your chest and you smile affectionately.

“How’d I get so lucky?” You ask.

“Nah, I’m lucky. Got the best girl in the entire world.

-

After an hour of the faint sounds of Paige’s lullabies (off-key but she would never admit that) and trying to reason with the 2-year-old like that might help, the cries eventually quiet down. Leo is resting too, playing in his room. You’ve been in the kitchen, making spaghetti for all of you. Checking the clock you realise it’s been about 30 minutes since you last heard any sound from Mia, yet Paige still hadn’t returned downstairs.

Quietly, you sneak your way up the stairs, ever so carefully opening the door into the bedroom to not wake up Mia. But what you find makes your heart flutter - in the dimmed out room, Paige and Mia are both asleep, your girlfriend holding the little girl close. The blonde’s mouth is slightly ajar, soft snores escaping through. For a moment you just watch, allowing the love you felt for them both to spread. You walk over, make sure they’re both covered up by the blanket before sneaking back out, leaving them in bed.

“Leo, come eat dinner soon, ok?” You whisper to him in the other room. His eyes lighting up, the little boy gets up holding a toy dinosaur and follows you downstairs.

“Can I watch The Grinch while I eat? Please please please!” He begs, giving you puppy eyes.

“Mmkay, just this once,” you bend to his will, setting it all up for him. You can’t help but watch Leo getting snuggled up on the couch, a blanket around him, eyes wide staring at the TV. Leaning against the arch into the living room, you feel your body tired from the day, muscles aching and mind exhausted. But your insides are fluttering with warmth, no other word for the specific feeling but pure joy. Walking back into the kitchen you begin to make your own plate of food.

You let your mind wonder, and maybe it’s risky. It’s much too soon to be thinking anything close to it. But since it’s Christmas, you let yourself. Your mind comes up with vivid images of you and Paige, in a house of your own, decorating the tree - Paige the only one tall enough to place the star on top. You can see you two baking cookies and watching Christmas movies, hot chocolate in bed. 

And maybe, just maybe eventually, two children of your own. There are flutters in your heart thinking about building snowmen with your little family, roasting marshmallows in the fireplace, dressing them up in tiny costumes and sending family postcards to your relatives and friends. It felt so far away, yet you could see it so vividly. 

As if she had heard your thoughts, suddenly warm hands land on your waist, Paige’s reflection appearing in the window in front of you. Humming, her front presses flush to your back, fitting against you just right.

“I fell asleep,” she murmurs, burying her nose into your hair and inhaling. It’s like heaven, after a long day, to feel her like this again.

“I noticed,” you reply, beginning to make a plate for the girl as well. She watches closely, following every movement from behind you until her lips find your neck, beginning to press soft, loving kisses along the nape of it. 

Eyes fluttering shut, you hum, turning your head to face the blonde behind you. Hand reaching for your jaw, she pulls you into a gentle kiss, lips sliding against yours slowly. “Can’t wait to see you be a mom,” Paige whispers against your mouth, chest heaving.

A deep blush sets on your cheeks hearing the words, taking them in. The blonde watches your reaction, clearly trying to read you.

“I’m sorry if that’s too much to say this early but I-”

“No,” you shake your head with a smile. “I can’t wait for that either.”

Relief washes over your girlfriend, as she pecks your lips once more. 

“We’re gonna be so good ma, best parents in the world.”

Beaming with joy, both you and Paige walk into the living room where Leo is sitting, eyes glued to the movie.

“Yo! Scooch!” Paige tells the boy, who shuffles to the corner of the couch. Both you and your girlfriend sit in the opposite corner, holding your bowls of spaghetti and getting settled. The blonde quickly wraps an arm around you, pulling you to lean against her side. You’re snuggled up, feeding bites of food to each other and stealing kisses whenever the boy isn't watching.

“I love you,” Paige whispers into your ear, blue eyes sparkling with adoration.

“I love you too Paige,” you whisper back, cheeks rosy and heart fluttering from the perfect snowy day.

-

taglist: @xxloveralways14 @bueckersfive @sierrale8ne @thaatdigitaldiary @lovegalor333 @lupinqs @rosemariiaa @janaelalfysblunt @d3arapril @vamptizm

[kazusys]

— kissing under the mistletoe.

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

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

wc: ~4.4k words

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

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

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

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

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

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

“hey, ‘bedo.” you smile.

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

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

he followed you immediately.

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

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

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

he made that one movement.

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

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

mistletoe.

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

needless to say, kaeya was a good matchmaker.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

when had they placed that there?

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

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

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

“cy—”

“look up.”

you do as told.

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

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

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

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

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

and that you did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

when did he get so close?

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

and then he kissed you, soft and delicately.

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

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

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

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

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

he smiles at how happy you look.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

lips—

with the snow falling

in the slumber of the world

Heaven-sent are they

with warmth to my days

with feelings of home in you

paradise is found

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you feel your face become unbearably hot.

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

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

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

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

he does. 10/10!!

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

well, i guess that makes him stupid, then.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ah. well…

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

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

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

you do.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i know, but…”

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

“tighn—!”

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

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

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

and with that, he leaves.

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

𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘰𝘦

𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺

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

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

𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴

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

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

you like him?

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

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

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

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

“may i come in?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“tighnari.”

he kisses you again in apology.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you think that’s a good sign.

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

“would you want to do that with me?”

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

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

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

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

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

he loves you so dearly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“may i?”

and you close the distance.

happy holidays indeed.

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

[pathologicalreid]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everyone’s hand went up—including yours.

[vaguely-concerned]

huh. you know something I just consciously put together for the first time about caterina and lucanis' relationship is that through the game we get to hear them talk about each other a lot, but we get very few chances to hear them speak with each other at any length at all. contrast it with other companions whose storylines have elements of 'believed lost/long time no see relative returns!' like bellara and davrin, where we get to see both of them have several pretty in-depth conversations with cyrian and eldrin. hell I think even rook talks with varric longer in the regret prison scene than we ever get to see lucanis and caterina interact directly.

(and when we do see them interact, it's mostly one-sided -- it is, perhaps unsurprisingly, caterina who is doing most of the talking and giving all the orders, as he ruefully observes is her wont after murder of crows. including jumpscaring him with 'you're first talon now btw' and the shocked pikachu face in five acts he goes through in response lmao. perhaps it's more accurate to say that she talks at him and he reacts, than that they talk to each other much.)

it has such an interesting effect too, because in deliberately denying us direct insight or experience and only having this mosaic of description from each of them to go on, as well as forcing us to pay attention to the negative space of what is carefully not said, it's evocative along the same principle that you never actually show the monster in a horror film. if you've read the wigmaker job you have a clearer image of the more uh. worrying elements at play here going in, but there is something fascinatingly insidious and naturalistic in the way it's 'hushed up' in the game itself. she has his complete loyalty both as a member of her house and, more importantly, that of an abused child to a parent figure. he readily admits several times that she's a difficult person to live with, an even more difficult person to be loved by ("even for me. and I was her favourite")... but never once does he actively blame her nor truly conceptualize that he has every right to do so (that he can be angry with her and still love her, because whether he should or not he unavoidably does), or that she might have acted differently than she did, that she made a choice every time to hurt him. even affectionately he speaks of her as a force of nature, an act of god -- something that can't be reasoned or pleaded with or resisted, something you can only hope to navigate with as little pain as possible and pray to survive. let yourself get carried away by the riptide, resisting it will only make it worse. you don't compromise with a hurricane, you just try to find the best shelter you can and cross your fingers while you wait for it to pass and be calm again.

love is that hurricane. you do whatever she asks. you earn her continued affection day by day by never letting her down. you only want the things she tells you it's okay to want and cut everything else away preemptively. ("A wyvern tooth dagger?? I loved wyverns as a boy --Caterina would never let me have one of these, though." and as we have all wept and gnashed our teeth over, it never even OCCURS to him that he's a like thirty-five year old adult man who can buy himself any dagger he wants at any time. she said he couldn't have one. so he'll never have one. that's just how it works. and maybe if Illario could just accept that and find his peace with it like I have, this whole thing wouldn't be so difficult. oh lucanis.)

such is the price -- and the cost -- of being loved by her, it's a loan on which the interest will never stop piling up. you have to keep paying it down in perfection every day if you want to keep it. who got the worse deal there: the grandson who has abandoned everything else in life to live up to that and mostly succeeded, until the day he's so burned out and broken it threatens to no longer be an option, or the grandson who can never seem to scrape together enough worth in her eyes no matter how he begs, borrows or steals it, how he hustles and plays dirty?

one of the worst things that can happen to anyone is to be loved by a selfish god. another one of the worst things that can ever happen to anyone is to not be loved by a selfish god. (hope that helps, boys!) even in betraying everything else, Illario can't bring himself to hurt his grandmother, because that would defeat the whole point. who would he defiantly be proving himself worthy to, without her. in love, devotion, submission, hatred, frustration, bitterness, everything is defined in relation to her, you can spot the gravitational force of it through how the dellamorte family move through time and space. she -- her love and regard and attention -- is still the sun both of their worlds orbit around, even as adults. the game might never tell you outright 'she used to beat and starve them growing up. for their own good you see, so they'd be strong (and broken down enough for her to build them up again however she wanted but I'm sure that's incidental)', but if you know even a little bit about how these dynamics can work the writing is on the wall everywhere you look and all the more unsettling for it.

follow lucanis' freeze-logic and fraught interpersonal catch 22 irreconcilable mixed emotions problems back far enough, looong before the ossuary entered the picture, and you start to see caterina's ghost around every fucking corner. she is so proud of him. (well, she would be. she made him. she forged exactly the knife she needed and it rests willingly, devotedly, in her hands, it would return to her every time because it doesn't know love as anything but to be a knife. his tama never taught him how to be anything else. his biggest fear with her is that she won't even want him back, the way he is now.) to the best ability of her soul, whatever parts of it survived a lifetime of crow politics and 'five children, eight grandchildren, only Illario and me left now', I think she really does loves him. he certainly loves her, with all the sincerity and artless desperation of a child, of the little boy he was once. and what she's done to him (and to illario, for all his shitty gremlin scar-ass antics lol) is awful. the harm is real, and the love is real, and trying to find a way for these two truths to exist in the same space is driving all three of them their own individualized forms of insane. you know. the way only family can and so often does lol.

through implications and short glimpses and having to put the pieces together yourself, you can have the feeling that there is very genuine mutual love and attachment in this relationship... and that beneath that there is something so profoundly wrong. and the sneaking '...oh shit it gets worse the longer I think about it' horror of that is more effective for me at least than the stark in-your-face presentation of the facts of the matter could have been. the love is here. the love is here. it only ever makes it worse.

[kumkaniudaku]

Caught

Summary: When their guest is away, Terry and Patrice will play.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 3,067

Warnings: Smut (18+ content)

Recommended Reading: Spoiled

Author's Note: Spoiled, Back Up, and Caught all happen on the same linear timeline. Consider them present day events. Hopefully that helps pull things together because you'll need the context later. Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays!

"Mommy, the recipe for the hand pies is so good. Thank you for finding it for me." 

"Oh, of course, baby. One day, I gotta get you to help me put all your Nana's recipes in a book or something. I'm tired of digging through all these scraps of paper." 

"I didn't wanna say anything, but that's insane. I can barely read her handwriting." 

Rosalyn scoffed on the other end of the phone line. "You and me both. I have to call Sybil every time or end up making up what I think goes there. I cook. I don't decipher chicken scratch."

Patrice laughed along with her mother as she passed a piping hot meatball over her shoulder to satisfy her taste tester for the night. He hummed his approval of her gift, providing a thumbs up as his rating before returning his hand to her waist and swaying them in time with the slow rhythm of Christmas music playing in the background. 

Christmas Eve brought preparation for the big day on the other side of a wake-up and a smaller get-together to celebrate Imani's and Jesus's birthdays in one evening. Patrice had offered to continue the tradition at her house to accommodate her cousin's request for loud music, liquor, and good, grown folks' fun. In a few short minutes, she and Terry would have a house full of adults gorging themselves on party food and fighting fits of giggles during a drunk game of Taboo. For now, she'd enjoy the calm before the storm with her shadow attached at the hip.

"The cinnamon smell for the apple version was way too strong, though. I almost skipped those altogether." 

Rosalyn responded with a sound of cautious curiosity. "Really? You usually love the smell of cinnamon." 

"Right," Patrice exclaimed. "Maybe I had a bad batch or something. It doesn't taste bad, but it smelled awful."

"Hm." Rosalyn filed the information in her head for a later moment of privacy, preferring not to stress her daughter with the questions buzzing around in the mind of a mother who knew her child better than anyone in the world. Instead, she continued. "Terry, did you like the hand pies?"

"You don't know if Terry is even in here, mama. He could be anywhere in the house," Patrice answered, her face screwed in confusion.

"Child, don't insult me. If you're in the kitchen, Terry is in the kitchen."

She wasn't wrong. A few too many glasses of Patrice's special holiday cocktail mixed with his ever-present desire to feel his wife at all times had Terry sticking to her like glue. Even after she'd given in to each of his kisses and allowed him to taste her the moment Imani stepped out to run a few errands, she still couldn't shake him. Whiskey was in control. Terry was only along for the ride.

He chuckled into the crook of Patrice's neck before confirming his presence. "Yes, ma'am, I loved the pies. Treece made a few on the side for me so I wouldn't have to share." 

"She still got you spoiled, I see."

"Nah, not too bad. You know she gets sweet once a week. I caught her on a good day." 

"Oh, hush."

Patrice's attempt to get out of Terry's grasp came up empty, prompting him to hold her tighter and press wet kisses onto the back of her neck. She was sadly mistaken if she thought she could get away from him that easy while Uncle Nearest was pumping through his veins. 

"Well, let me let you two go," Rosalyn started with a small laugh. "Tell me how the chicken salad turns out. I might throw some together as a little snack for your daddy tomorrow. You know how he gets when he's ready to eat." 

"Mhmm. Just like somebody else I know."

Terry patiently waited for Patrice to wrap up her conversation and safely end the call before resuming his handsy approach to PDA. His hands slid up and down the fabric of her cotton pajama pants, the pair matching his at her request. Full lips attached to her neck, creating a light suction with every open-mouthed kiss. 

His wife rolled her eyes as she loaded a pita chip with dip for his culinary opinion. "You are insatiable, TJ. Taste this." 

He obliged, opening wide as she slid food into his mouth and waited for a response. Instead of a verbal assessment of her work, he kissed her cheek twice to signal his approval, then returned to his shameless groping.

"How long before Imani gets back?" 

"I don't know. Fifteen minutes or so. She only went to grab some more cups and water." 

Terry's eyes flickered to the digital clock on the stove before sliding his hands up Patrice's torso and leaving a trail of kisses on her shoulder. "Think you got a few minutes to get back to what we started?" 

"Haven't you had enough of me yet? We've been going at it every day since New Orleans."

"What you think?"

Having enough of her touch, the feeling of her body against his, or her attention was a foreign concept for Terry. If he could quit his job and be totally devoted to her pleasure, he would do so without a second thought. Fortunately for him, though, extended absences from the slough of office life due to the holidays provided the closest opportunity to spend the whole day in it. 

Patrice smiled to herself as Terry slowly removed the serving spoon from her hand, bringing her delicate palm up to the back of his head. Coarse hair grown into a short tuft of curls and shaped by his barber tickled her fingertips as she closed her eyes, officially caught up in how Terry caressed her with the care afforded to precious works of art. 

A low purr slipped past his lips as his hands slid beneath the hem of her camisole to rub her stomach, filling her ears and mind with filthy sounds and images from earlier in the hour. Had he had enough of her? She wasn't sure she'd had enough of him. 

His fingertips inched higher, further intoxicating Patrice until a full squeeze on both breasts at the same time made her hiss and wince in pain. 

"Easy, baby," she complained as she gently pressed down on his arms to direct him away from the sensitive area. "They're super tender right now. I'm not sure why." 

Lust was quickly replaced by concern as Terry dropped his hands and turned Patrice to face him. "You okay?" 

"I'm fine, Pooh. It's probably the tattoo healing. 

"Yeah, but it shouldn't be making the entire area hurt. Especially not on both sides. Let me look."

"Terry, you never just look."

His attempt to slide the thin straps of her tank top down her arms was quickly cut short as Patrice brushed off his contact to save herself from what she assumed would come next. Her aching was a serious matter. Terry getting a look at her bare tits was not nearly as high on the list. 

Terry softened his eyes in unmistakable sincerity. "I'm serious, Treece. I know what it should look like. Come here."

Patrice didn't protest as Terry led her to the kitchen table. She stood perfectly still until Terry was comfortable in one of the chairs and then placed her between his legs. 

He gingerly pushed her tanktop straps down her arms before bunching the thin fabric at her waist to free her breasts, watching for any sign of discomfort.

"You don't think you're like…sick, do you?" 

"I think it's just tenderness," she quickly retorted, wanting to push the thought of more grave explanations for her discomfort far from her mind.

"Okay, okay. I'm only asking." 

Her brows furrowed as he lifted the right side to get a look at the moment from a charged few days in his family's old stomping grounds. 

A day alone and nothing to do but explore had them wandering into the same shady tattoo parlor where Terry got his first piece for matching ink. Terry opted to tat their wedding date on his ribs after having to be talked down from plastering her name on his neck. Patrice, however, was set on making her first experience one to remember. 

Slanted script crafted from his handwriting spelled Terry's full first name, curving just under the crease of her boob and the spot that he liked to grip in the depths of passion or simply at his leisure. Terry ran his thumb along each letter to check for abrasions or abnormalities. 

He looked up at Patrice to gauge her reaction. "That hurt?" 

"Not really. It's more here," she added, gesturing toward her areola. "Anything rubbing against it is so uncomfortable. I can barely wear a bra." 

"I noticed. They've honestly been looking a little bigger. Do they feel heavy to you?" 

"Not heavy. Mostly…full? They look great, though. I'm not complaining about that part." 

She joked, the attempt sounding silly once it received no reaction past Terry blinking as he used the pad of his thumb to ghost contact over her pebbled nipple to test her pain level. It was challenging to stay present, with a third of her upper half unnecessarily exposed in their kitchen for no real reason. The entire ordeal felt like a farce. Terrence wasn't a doctor, and him holding her titties in his hands like fleshy snowglobes was as much an actual check-up as WWE was real wrestling. 

When she giggled like a teenager learning about sex for the first time, Terry looked up at her with a quizzical expression, and his left eyebrow lifted high. "What's so funny?" 

"You, Doctor Richmond," she laughed. "How can you tell they're bigger? I couldn't even tell until the other day." 

"I spend a lot of time with my girls. I better notice when they change. Been looking at them since I was sixteen." Terry answered, a boyish grin making his cheekbones nearly touch the corner of his eyes. 

"I knew you used to look!" She exclaimed, finally feeling vindicated in her suspicions from childhood. 

"Looking was the least of what I was doing." He shrugged as he gently pushed both breasts together for his own viewing pleasure. He kissed the small crease they made two times over, then looked up at Patrice through long lashes. "Unfortunately, ma'am, I couldn't diagnose you, but I think I have some treatment available if you're interested." 

Patrice bit back a smile to play along. "Oh yeah? How much is this gonna cost? It's the holidays, and I ain't got it." 

"I offer payment plans that we can discuss in that room back there later tonight." 

"I like the sound of that," she answered, previous problems vanishing into thin air as he roped her back into his web of liquor-charged desire. 

"I knew you would," he winked. "Don't move."

Tingles rippled across Patrice's skin while she listened for any indication of Terry's secretive treatment plan. The soft crack and subsequent rush of cool from the freezer created goosebumps on her bare chest, making her nipples jut out proud from the sensation. Next came the cupboard opening and shutting in two seconds time. From the direction, she could tell he was grabbing a glass from over the sink. 

Ice cubes clinked against the cup like little masters of whispers attempting to give Patrice the scoop on what to expect. Terry quietly shut the freezer and took heavy steps back to his seat, smiling at how Patrice truly hadn't moved a muscle in his few minutes away. 

He placed the glass on the table behind him before tugging her hand to guide her closer. "Cold hot therapy. I sprained my knee once, and this got me back up and running in no time. Ice for the cold…" Terry's voice trailed as he plucked a piece of ice from his glass and pressed it to her nipple. He watched her jaw drop with a sharp inhale, intently focused on the way her eyelids fluttered closed at the sudden shock of frozen water. When a single drop began to make a trail down the swell of her breast, he pulled the ice away and brought his mouth closer. "And I'll take care of the hot."

"Oh…my God." 

Whispers of unexpected pleasure sent Terry into a far-off place where he was only concerned with running a flat tongue across supple skin. Patrice rushed to steady herself by bringing her hands to the back of his head, cradling him while he went to work. 

Ice cold. Soothing warmth. Ice cold. Soothing warmth and a light suckle. Again. And again. 

He eyed her like a lion watches prey, taking notes of every little sound and twitch to know that he was fulfilling his job. 

"Good job, baby," Patrice whispered, her head tossed back and praises spoken to the ceiling. "Good fuckin' job."

Terry ran his hands up the back of her thighs to roughly grip her ass. He groaned at the affirmation before pulling away to retrieve more ice. He held a small cube between his teeth to multitask, running it across her left nipple and areola until it had melted enough to fit both in his mouth. 

Was it fixing her tenderness issue? Not really. But Patrice would be damned if his subtle slurping and moaning with her backside firmly in his clutches wasn't sufficiently taking her mind off things. So far off, she'd lost all concept of time and space. 

While Terry pulled Patrice into his lap for a more intensive inspection, Imani entered the house high off the exhilarating freedom that can only come for night drives with a carefully curated playlist blasting from the speakers. Being stateside for the first time in a year was the perfect opportunity to experience one of life's simple pleasures. 

Grocery bags rustled and knocked against the wall as she hummed along to the fragmented lyrics from a song on her Spotify playlist still coursing through her brain. A short pause in her personal concert to lock the door left space to hear a string of curious noises. Muffled half-sentences and a sort of trembling sigh made her quirk an eyebrow. She thought to herself that Terry and Patrice left the television on far too often for a pair of people who claimed to not spend much time in front of the tube, but quickly found that they'd taken to making a scene the old-fashioned way. 

She stood in the open space, a perfectly shaped eyebrow pushed high on her face and an impressed smirk tugging at the right corner of her lip while she watched her baby cousin makeout with Imani's newest family member with a ferocity she didn't know Patrice had in her. 

Patrice held Terry steady by his jaw, slightly hovering over him while she had her way leading a sloppy kiss. When she moved to push his head back toward her chest with a string of words filthy enough to make a pornstar blush, Imani cleared her throat to finally announce her presence.

"Oh shit," Patrice yelped, rushing to tap Terry's back and end his check-up. 

His head popped up to survey the room, then slowly found a home on top of Patrice's once she pressed close enough against his chest to cover her naked breasts. The vibrations from his concealed chortling made Patrice pinch him in frustration. Nothing was funny, at least not to her. 

Imani held her hands up in faux surrender. "No, please. Don't stop on account of me," she laughed. "Y'all were just getting started." 

"We are so sorry, Moanie. This isn't what it looks like. Well, this part is exactly what it looks like, but I promise it didn't start like this. Terry was looking at my boobs to check on my tattoo and -" 

"Girl, you do not have to explain anything to me. This is your house! Honestly, if I had those big ol' mommy titties, I'd want them in somebody's face too. And you got them for free! The girls gotta go under the knife or get pregnant for those. How does it feel to be God's favorite? Terry, can you help me get the water out of the car when you finish?"

Terry looked down at his visibly distressed wife and then back at Imani to save face for the both of them. "Yeah, I got you. Gimme a minute." 

Moanie didn't notice how she'd launched her cousin into an internal spiral as she pranced off to busy herself with getting ready in her room for the week, but Terry did. He carefully sat Patrice up and helped redress her, careful to ease into conversation. 

"You alright?" 

"I had my cycle this month," Patrice rushed out, her gaze far off as Terry lifted her arm to put it back in her camisole strap. "It can't be that. I had my cycle." When her focus returned, her eyes snapped to Terry's for confirmation. "Right? I did, right?"

He nodded, unsure of how to proceed to quell her fear. "You did, baby. But, maybe…"

Sure, it was lighter than usual, but she'd had a cycle. Her body functioned like it did every month, on time and without pomp and circumstance. There was no cause for concern. 

But…maybe. 

Patrice looked down at her belly then back up at Terry, searching for answers in his sympathetic expression. He leaned forward and held her head with both hands to give her a kiss she couldn't return before he spoke. 

"Don't drink tonight. Just in case. We'll figure it out in the morning. Okay?"

"Okay." She whispered back without truly processing the gravity of his instruction. 

Terry slowly lifted Patrice from his lap to fulfill Imani's request for assistance, leaving her to stand perfectly still in the kitchen. She counted backward in her head, retracing her steps and important dates until a headache sent her to take a seat. 

It was just tenderness. It'd go away by morning, and all of this would be a silly story to tell whenever they got together in the spring for their European honeymoon. She'd drink an entire bottle of wine over heaps of pasta, turning the whole situation into a fond memory before raising her hand to call the server for another round. All water under the bridge, right?

But…maybe.

------

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[dreamsteddie]

Steve and Eddie childhood friends au where Eddie's mom, Elizabeth Munson, is hired on as Steve's nanny when Steve turns four.

Elizabeth may not have the best reputation in town, but she went to school with Linda Harrington before she threw her life and money away on Al. She was young and foolish and thought he loved her like she loved him. It hurt to be proven wrong, that he loved her modest saving account more than he could ever love her, but at the end of the day, he gave her Eddie, so she carries on.

Linda had known her from before she met Al. They weren't ever friends, but Elizabeth was from a nice lower middle-class family and had long black curls that the other girls could admire. Not popular by any means, but someone who could be partnered up with Queen Linda for a history project without heads turning. Linda also knew from health class that Elizabeth was good with kids, so it's not a complete surprise when she gets a call asking if she'd like to nanny her 4-year-old son, Steve, for the foreseeable future so she can return to work with her husband.

The Harrintons are a wealthy couple, for Hawkins Indiana at least. In the grand scheme of things Richard's position as one of many property realtors in a major corporation keeps them comfortably in the upper middle classes, but the dollar stretches almost twice as far in the sleepy parts of Indiana.

Still, to Elizabeth who has never known more than a modest three bedroom and little Eddie who has never lived outside the tin walls of the trailer park, the Harrington home seems like a mansion fit for a king.

Or in this case, a little prince.

Steve is a sweet little boy, if a little bratty the first few times Elizabeth has to tell him no. When she first comes to the house to be briefed on all Steve's needs and how the house runs, he clings to his mother's perfectly pressed skirts and looks up at him with big brown eyes that remind her so much of Eddie's, full of barely contained curiosity. It doesn't take long after she introduces himself to him, stooping down to say hi and shake his little hand, for him to lose all that shyness and start, trying, to ask her questions. He's not at a place where he can use full sentences, but he makes do with pointing and the words he does have.

It's easy to see that Linda doesn't know how to interact with Steve, telling him more than once to let the grownups talk and to stop holding her skirt. Elizabeth doesn't say anything though, it's not her place and she could really use the job. Edde is sprouting up like a weed, and her previous income from the diner wasn't enough to get him all the things he needed. The Harringtons, for all their faults, are offering her more than a fair salary to look after their son.

The next week, she brings her and Eddie bright and early to make sure they get there just as the Harringtons head off to work. Elizabeth knows Richard wasn't keen on Eddie coming with her, probably not wanting his son to associate with a child he sees as lesser, but Elizabeth quickly realized that matters of the home like childcare were left to Linda's discretion, and she hadn't seen a problem with it.

Steve is waiting for his mother on the front porch, clutching her hand as hard as he can. When Linda pries his hand away he starts to snivel and cry, but to Elizaeth's surprise, he doesn't start to wail and scream. The first time she had to leave for work Eddie just about had a complete meltdown, not understanding where his mom was going or why he had to stay with his Uncle Wayne. Steve stays quiet, muffing his cries in a way that tugs at her heartstrings.

She takes his hand and guides him inside, holding back from scooping him up in her arms like she would Eddie to sing him a song and dry his tears. Something tells him the Harringtons wouldn't appreciate that.

So he waits, watches their car depart from the open doorway, and once she's sure they're completely out of sight she swoops down to hold him in her arms. The act opens the floodgates. Steve starts really crying and wailing into her arms, asking for his mama and clutching hard at the sleeves of Elizabeth's blouse.

That's when Eddie steps in, placing his hand on Steve's shirt and rubbing clumsy circles on the younger boy's shoulder. Eddie's not five quite yet, has about four more moths to go, but he's talking much more than Steve is and seems to relish in the use of his voice. Right now he's using it to soothe Steve, telling him it's going to be ok and his mama will come back and that they can share his mama until she does.

Then he does the damnedest thing.

He starts singing.

It's the same thing she's always done for him. Every time Al comes home and leaves again, when he falls off the jungle gym at the park, when one of the kids in town points out that his shoes have holes in them and that he must be poor. She holds him close, rubs his tiny shoulder, and sings her favorite Patsy Cline song into his ear.

The three of them stay in the Harrington's entryway for as long as it takes for Steve's tears to dry out, starting this new phase of their lives to the tune of Sweet Dreams.

[yeagersss]

Sukuna x f!Reader

In which Sukuna brings home child Uraume — 2

<— previous

It was your scream piercing through the forest that had Sukuna dropping everything and speeding up his steps.

He was coming back from a hunt while you and Uraume were walking through the woods, foraging for ingredients.

It's been a few weeks since Uraume joined you both and since then, you had showered them with nothing but love and affection. Like the child you always wanted.

Sukuna, on the other hand, was teaching the kid how to properly control their technique. It wasn't something he would ever do for anyone but he has grown to... have a soft spot for Uraume.

But when he dashed through the woods and arrived at the scene, Sukuna would never admit the way his heart sank at what he saw.

Ice.

Ice everywhere.

With you slumped against a tree, shaking uncontrollably while Uraume was next to you in tears, screaming and crying as they apologised profusely. Half of your body was covered in ice.

"No! No! My lady, please! I—I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do this! It was an accident—!" The child wailed. Memories of the frozen corpses of their parents rushing through their head.

It was just like that time.

"What have you done?" Sukuna's angered voice had Uraume backing away in fear as he got closer.

Your husband was by you in an instant, taking you in his arms. His eyes raked over your body to assess the damage. He quickly used his RCT to heal you. His heart was in his throat and he didn't stop until color returned to your face and your breathing was even.

You were going to be okay.

You were going to be okay but Sukuna was not going to let this go so easily. You... His everything... was harmed. Had almost brushed against the brink of death.

But when he looked up at Uraume with a rage of a furious storm, he paused.

The child was bowing deeply against the forest ground, body uncontrollably shaking from sobs and their little fists digging into the dirt as they repeated the same thing over again.

"I'm sorry! Please forgive me! I didn't mean—I-I didn't mean to hurt her—!"

And those words stirred something inside Sukuna. A memory. A memory he had buried deep into his mind and vowed to never look back upon ever again.

Of a small, deformed child who had just discovered his dangerous technique.

"How could you do this?!"

"Please, I'm sorry!"

"Do you think sorry will fix this?! Will fix the damage you caused?!"

"I didn't mean to! Mother, I swear—"

"Stay away from me, you wretched thing!"

"Monster!"

"Four eyed demon!"

"He'll bring a curse upon our village!"

"Kill that deformed thing! Kill it—"

"Enough. Stand up and let's go."

"B-But my lady is—"

"She's fine."

The walk back to home was quiet. Uraume had expected their punishment the moment they stepped into the house. But after Sukuna had gently laid you on the futon, the punishment never came.

Instead, the King of Curses placed his large hand on top of the child's head and scowled disapprovingly.

"Brat, did you not get what I taught you? Focus on a single damn point and breathe. That way you'll be able to control your technique. Now—"

Sukuna lead Uraume outside again and stopped a few feet away from a deer and a fawn.

"Kill the fawn and only the fawn." The man ordered.

Uraume was in disbelief. They had fully expected a punishment for what they did but when they looked at Sukuna, there was no malice in his eyes. Instead, impatience clouded those bloodied rubies as he tapped his large foot on the ground, waiting for the moment the child would do something.

With an impossibly warmed heart Uraume turned to the fawn with a smile and followed the malevolent king's instruction.

--

You awoke a few hours later, eyes blinking up at the ceiling as memories of what happened slowly came back. Your heart sank and you tried to get up.

You had to find Uraume. The poor child!

But then you felt small cold arms secured tightly around you. Uraume was curled next you as they slept.

You calmed down and smiled tenderly, running your fingers across their snowy locks.

"They refuse to leave your side."

You looked over to see your husband leaning against the door frame. Your smile widened and you reached out to him.

Sukuna didn't hesitate, pushing himself off and walking over to you. He sat down next to you on the floor and took your delicate hand in his large one.

"I'm surprised they're even at my side."

Sukuna grunted. "They can control their technique now. So expect the brat to be glued to you more often."

You laughed softly. "Oh? And does that have something to do with you, my lovely husband?"

Of course it did because he simply refused to look at you and gave you a mere shrug. He was embarrassed. You could tell.

"My lady...?"

You turned your focus to a sleepy Uraume, gazing at you with an apologetic look.

"My lady, I'm sorry..."

You shushed them, stroking their hair affectionately. "Hush now, little one. It wasn't your fault. Sleep, okay? I'm here..."

Sukuna looked on at you and Uraume quietly. You, his beautiful wife, whispering soothing words to the child who, moments ago, was nothing but terrified of who they were.

And then he thought back to the little deformed boy with four eyes and arms running away with a tear streaked face from a mother who begged the villagers to kill him.

He knew that boy was at peace now.

<— previous

[bluedrizzle82]

Him and I

You stand there zoned out shaking and crying as the lifeless body is dragged into the back of a car. Your husband König is cleaning up the mess, or should I say murder, that you did. He just got home and found you standing above the body zoned out.

To be fair it was self defense.. for you and your child. You were home alone at the moment waiting for König to return from the store with a few items and your daughter was sleeping upstairs. You forgot to lock the door behind König after walking him out to the car.

In that time someone decided that it was best to rob and hurt a defenseless woman. He had no idea that your husband was a military man and had trained you to defend yourself in case of this happening. In the mist of you tussling it out with him your daughter began crying which made the man focus his attention on her and he bolted upstairs.

You ran after him in a hurry to protect your child. He began pushing you down the stairs, but you ran back up and jumped on his back, dragging him down with you. You took the nearest object and began smashing his head repeatedly. König rushes in seeing the front door open only to find you standing above the body holding your daughter and crying.

[jelzorz]

205.

Midwinter is different in Katolis. They call it Yule here, and Rayla's done a couple on this side of the border now that the yearly traditions aren't such a surprise. Skating is weird (she's been using her blades pretty deftly for years now and she's never once thought about strapping them to her feet but okay) and the food is... not for her (she and Ezran stick to salads while the others dig into the boar Soren and Corvus had brought back from a hunt) but the sentiment is the same. It's friends and family gathered around the hearth to celebrate, to talk and laugh and share stories of the year gone by.

It's supposed to be a happy time. A time of peace. Of rest. Of relief.

Instead, Rayla is wringing her hands in the hall while the others gather by the fire, uncertainty roiling in her gut.

It's been three years since the Archdragons defeated Aaravos. In four more, he will return, and she and Callum had promised to keep everything on hold until then; to wait until the danger had passed before they commit to the life they know they both want, and yet...

She swallows. She breathes. She clenches her fists and focuses on the sensation of her nails in her palms to keep herself from throwing up.

"You haven't told him yet."

"No, I haven't told him yet," she snaps, waving Runaan off with an irritated huff. "I haven't told anyone yet.You shouldn't even know."

"I can't help that I know you well, Rayla." Runaan smirks a little at that. "You remind me of your mother."

"Oh, please, like this is even a little bit the same."

"She had concerns," he says. "That she wasn't ready. That Lain wasn't."

"They just had to go back to work," snaps Rayla. "We have a time limit. Four years, Runaan. Four before the world'll end again. That's not a life! That's barely even a childhood! How could we possibly—"

"You're overreacting."

"Overreacting?" Rayla scowls and rounds on her father, hackles raised, jaw clenched, teeth sore from the way she's been grinding them for days. "Aaravos isn't done, Runaan! He'll be back! What if we're not ready then? What if we can't stop him? What if—"

"What if you do?"

"What—I—"

Runaan holds her stare, his face unnervingly unworried. "What if you do defeat him? What if it's all okay after all? Will you sit around and put something like this off because you're afraid of the next thing?"

"There won't be a next thing—"

"You don't know that."

"Well—you don't know that we'll defeat him either."

"And you don't know that you won't."

Rayla clamps her mouth shut. Runaan twitches the corner of his lips.

"There's a lot of uncertainty right now, Rayla," he says gently, "but something that is certain is that Callum loves you. There's no doubt about that. And he will not resent you for bringing his child into this world."

Rayla grimaces. "You're not worried even a little?"

"I will worry when I need to. There's no point in worrying twice."

Rayla breathes again: one slow steady breath in, one rush of an exhale out. "You've been hanging out with Gren."

Runaan laughs at that. "Yes, I remember him. Far too sunny a human but surprisingly good company these days. Go on, little blade. Your beloved deserves to know."

He pushes Rayla into the room and Callum looks up at once, his eyes bright and pleased to see her join them at last. Rayla takes another breath. And then another. And one more after that.

There's no point in worrying twice, she tells herself.

(And, in any case, Callum is thrilled).

[maddie-dog-story-blog]

The Holiday Party

Everything was going so well! You were dressed in an amazing dress, drawing the eyes of everyone in the room. The partners at your firm were impressed with not just your skills as an attorney, but also at your ability to network.

You could feel it happening. You were going to make partner after this party.

Then, the clock struck 8:00 pm.

You were dazzling the managing partner with your in depth knowledge of case law related to torts, when, you were interrupted mid-sentence with a rubber bulb being shoved into your mouth.

You looked back, first in indignation and then in shock, as you saw your husband standing there, smiling at your boss.

"I'm so sorry, sir. Is my little one bothering you? When she loses her paci, she can be quite the babbler."

Your face turned red with embarrassment and then with rage as your husband talked over your head. How dare he condescend to you like this in front of your boss!

Your boss laughed boisteriously as you pulled your pacifier out and turned to lecture your husband.

"What do you think you are..." you started before you were interrupted by your husband's firm hand.

"Baby, did you just take your pacifier out? Naughty girl! Excuse me, sir, I am so sorry," your husband said as he dragged you to the nearest chair and threw you over his lap, flipping your dress up and exposing your ass, barely covered by a thong, to the entire room.

"Baby, you know the rules! You are *mine* after 8:00 pm. That means paci, diapers, and *no* talking back."

Your husband--no, your Daddy, he was right it was after 8:00 pm--began raining blows on your exposed rear end as your entire office watched. Tears filled your eyes and you cried out as paralegals, junior attorneys, and your partners watched you get disciplined like a naughty child.

Eventually, the spanking stopped. Tears ran down your face and your ass cheeks burned. Your daddy called out to Susan, your paralegal.

"Susan, would you mind going to the coat check and grabbing my princess's diaper bag? I need to get her padded before she has an accident in her big-girl panties!"

Susan grinned as she eagerly complied with your husband's request, even offering to change you herself when she returned. Daddy, always protective, politely declined her offer, before stripping you naked, diapering you, and dressing you in nothing but a pastel pink onesie.

You spent the rest of the party sitting on a blanket on the floor in the corner of the room, being doted on and played with by your coworkers while your husband chatted with your bosses.

It was the most mortifying experience of your life, but you dared not complain for fear of a worse punishment.

When you returned to the office on Monday, you were prepared for things to be awkward, and you were righ to be. Paralegals, secretaries, and junior attorneys who had once looked up to you, now gave you condescending grins as they asked if you needed a diaper change or wanted your baba. It was mortifying.

You had tried convince your husband that you couldn't go back to work after the party, but he reassured you that, after his conversations with your bosses, you would be fine returning to the firm.

Only an hour into the day, you were called into a partners' meeting, a meeting that, at the start of that cursed party you had been excited about. You dreaded it now.

The managing partner looked at you with a soft smile as you entered the room.

"I know you were expecting a promotion today," he began, "But, after that party, everyone agrees that another shift in title is in order."

And that's how you found yourself here, sitting in your newly minted "corner office"--a playpen tucked away in the corner of the office near the restrooms--playing with dolls while waiting on Susan, the woman who you once supervised, to come change your messy diaper.

You weren't a partner at the firm. You were no longer even an associate. You were now the firm's adorable, diapered mascot, only good for filling diapers and boosting morale. All because you lost track of time at that horrible holiday party.

[redtsundere-writes]

Part 28: Starting Over

King!SukunaRyomen x Servant!FemReader

Summary: You used to be just another servant among the army of humans operating under the command of the terrible king, Sukuna Ryomen. An ordinary human who only knows how to wash, clean and cook. Until one day, he notices something in you that you hadn't seen before.

Tags: MDNI. +18. Murder. Blood. Cannibalism. Sukuna Ryomen Is The Warning Itself. Nudity. Sexual Display. Vaginal. Fingering. Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst. NOT Beta read.

Word Count:  7822 words.

I M P O R T A N T

A/N: So after some consideration, I need a break from this fic because I wanna work on other fics I have kinda abandoned because of this one. Plus, I want to write an original novel! I'll be updating about it here, thanks for your support and understanding, happy holidays! :3

Beginning. | ← Previous | Next →

You were stuck in the same dilemma you had a month ago. You paced around your room, anxiety running high, rehearsing how to apologize to the king for kissing another man and causing a scene in enemy territory. You had crossed the line this time, and it would be hard to fix it. He must be furious, even more so when he found out you didn't return to the camp after the incident. You didn't regret what you did, but you would have to admit that you deliberately hurt the king sooner or later, and now you had to face the consequences. You bit your nails in a failed attempt to calm your nerves as you waited for his inevitable return.

Suddenly, you stopped as you heard the clatter of the drawbridge's chains moving. You darted to the window, looked outside and confirmed what you feared: the king was back in the castle. But he wasn't alone. Along with him were Kenjaku and Mahito, followed by a long caravan of curses. Sukuna stepped out of his carriage with his trademark dark grace, looking up directly at your window as if he knew you were there. His sharp eyes pierced your being, and a chill ran down your spine. Heart pounding uncertainty, you slammed the window shut and hid behind the wall as if that would help.

You still didn’t have an apology that would convince you. You weren’t even sure Sukuna would allow you to apologize. Staying in your room, waiting for him to request your presence, was the safest option, though you had no idea how long that would take.

To your surprise, it only took twenty minutes of your patience when someone knocked on your door. To your relief, it was Mrs. Inoue. You hugged her without a second thought, muttering hasty apologies for leaving her alone with the king for over a week.

“I missed you too, child.” She hugged you back.

“I'm glad you’re okay,” you said before letting go of her.

She gave you a kind, tender grandmotherly smile, but then her expression changed drastically to one of anger. “Oh no…” you thought, scared.

“What the hell is wrong with you, silly girl?! You cried every day for the king to propose to you, and you went and blew it! You're going to kill me with your shenanigans before I see you in white! You better give me 7 grandchildren to make up for it!” She scolded you severely while spanking you.

“Sukuna told you?!” You asked, surprised, while you writhed from the pain in your buttocks.

“Of course the king told me after I went to plead for you,” Mrs. Inoue snorted. “You better apologize tonight, or I myself will tell the king to kill you for being a dumbass.” With that warning, she handed you a letter that was in her pocket.

You took the white envelope with a frown. It had a wax seal with a golden rose painted on it. It was an official letter from King Sukuna. You didn't hesitate to open it with trembling hands. Your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when you saw what it was.

His Majesty, King Sukuna Ryomen, extends to you a most gracious invitation to attend the illustrious White Flower Ball.

For the first time in a millennium, you have been bestowed the rare honor of joining this exclusive and momentous occasion, held this evening within the grand halls of the castle. Enclosed with this letter is a gown crafted especially for you, befitting the grandeur of the event.

It is my fervent hope that you will accept this invitation and join me for an evening of unparalleled splendor—one that I assure you will remain etched in your memory forever.

With the deepest of regards,Sukuna Ryomen

“What the fuck?” Mrs. Inoue pulled your cheek for cursing.

It was just what you needed to reassure yourself that you weren’t dreaming. You weren’t one to curse just like that, but your mouth dropped it before you could say anything else. Your bottom lip was on the floor and your heart was racing in circles from excitement. You read the letter over and over to make sure your reading comprehension was still working.

“And you haven’t seen the best part yet,” Mrs. Inoue said excitedly before picking up a box that was hidden behind the door to the next room.

You took the huge box to place it on your bed. You undid the red bow with ease and opened it. There was a white silk dress next to a diamond tiara with matching earrings. Mrs. Inoue held you so you wouldn’t faint from the shock. It was so beautiful that you couldn’t utter a word. “Does this mean the king isn’t upset with me?” you thought.

“You better apologize to that good man, girl.” Mrs. Inoue waved an accusatory finger.

“Did he just call the king a ‘good man’?” you asked, confused.

“My grandson is a tyrant to everyone but you,” Mrs. Inoue said before leaving your room to let the king know that she had already fulfilled her part of the plan.

“Your grandson?” That only left you more confused.

Sukuna examined the new windows with great attention. The pattern was the same as the originals, but instead of the glass being red, they were transparent like any other. Uraume was updating him on the situation, kneeling before him and with their head down. He had both pairs of arms crossed as he imagined how the events had occurred on that strange night.

“I detailed it in the report I sent you the same night of the attack. I don't know why it didn't reach you, my king,” Uraume stuttered nervously, about to burst into tears for having failed in their main task: protecting the castle.

“Surely the messenger you sent was killed by those crows if they are as powerful as you say,” Sukuna theorized. “Do you know the reasoning behind the attack?”

“50 cursed weapons were stolen from the weapons room, my king,” Uraume answered.

“I see.” Sukuna whispered to himself as he looked at the panorama through the glass.

There was a crow flying in the sky in the distance. Crows were a common bird in the area, so the person behind the attack had surely been spying on them for some time. With that information, it would be difficult to find the perpetrators. He already had some hypotheses in mind, but he would have to wait to solve them. Sukuna pricked up his ears as he heard a sob behind him. Uraume was crying softly as they clenched their white kimono, their hands red from the effort to contain themself. He lowered their head to their hands in a sign of mercy.

“I'm sorry I failed you, my king,” Uraume apologized.

“There was nothing you could do.” Sukuna concluded.

“If I hadn't fainted, I swear…” Uraume tried to defend themselves, full of frustration.

“Enough.” The king's word echoed through the hall. “I'm at peace that you only fainted and didn't die like everyone else.”

A warm shock hit Uraume's chest. As soon as they looked up, the king was already kneeling in front of them, with a hand on their albino head to stop them from lamenting what happened.

“I know what you are capable of, and what you can do.” Sukuna reassured them. “So raise your head, we have work to do.”

“If you didn't get my report, why did you bring all those curses?” Uraume asked as they wiped the tears with their loose sleeve.

“This ball isn't going to organize itself.”

“Ball?” Uraume asked, confused.

The night seemed to fall with a desperate slowness, too much to contain your excitement. Each minute felt eternal as you turned on your axis, watching how the wide skirt of your dress fluttered gracefully. You adjusted the top of the outfit for the tenth time, unable to control your nerves. The corset, tight to the chest, enhanced your figure without sacrificing elegance.

Your favorite detail was the sleeves: they fell softly, light, like newly opened petals, adding an ethereal touch to your appearance. The sparkling tiara and delicate diamond necklace caught the light like dewdrops at dawn, completing the illusion of a radiant flower in its full splendor. You felt like a daisy awakening with the first rays of the sun, fresh and dazzling. Sukuna had outdone himself with his choice this time.

There was a knock at the door. “Miss. The ball is about to begin.”

You didn’t recognize the voice, but curiosity drove you to run to the door. As you opened it, an exquisite fragrance enveloped you, stopping you in your tracks. Instead of an unfamiliar face, the first thing you saw were two long rows of white roses and daisies adorning the hallway. The flowers covered everything. They overflowed from the decorative vases, sprouted from the helmets of the armor, and seemed to fill every corner with their fragile splendor. You had never seen so many flowers together, but surprisingly, they were not what completely captured your attention.

At the end of the hallway, the king was waiting for you. His imposing figure was wrapped in an impeccable red kimono; his hair, perfectly coiffed, further enhanced his elegance. In his arms, he carried a huge bouquet of red roses, so large that it seemed made by him and only him. Your heart raced at the sight, and a fleeting thought crossed your mind: “Am I dreaming?”

He approached you, with determined and confident steps, while you remained motionless, trapped in the tangle of emotions that invaded you. You felt like a fool, unable to do anything other than observe him from a distance, trying to process what was happening. The thousands of flowers, the dress, the dance… and him, wearing his most elegant kimono.

“Flies are going to get in.” Sukuna placed a hand under your chin to shut your mouth.

“I don’t understand, my king,” you whispered, confused.

“What don’t you understand?” His hand traveled down your jaw to hold your head under your ear.

“The dance? The dress? All of this? Why? I don’t deserve any of this after what I said back in the Zen’in realm.” You tried to lower your head in sorrow, but he held your head up high so you could look him in the eyes.

“I realized it was my fault that this happened in the first place. I should have protected you on enemy land, but because of my selfish wishes, it drew even more attention to you.” His thumb caressed your cheek tenderly as he looked you straight in the eyes so you knew he was serious. “I’m going to show you now and for the rest of your life that you made the right choice by standing next to me.”

Your pulse was racing so fast that you didn’t know if it was from excitement or a heart attack. Who the hell was this before you, and what had he done with the cursed tyrant? This was more than dreamlike, it was crazy. You thought he would be upset and ignore you more than before you got engaged, but you were glad he didn't. Sukuna placed the large bouquet of roses in your arms, they were so heavy that you almost fell on your back.

"Thank you," you said with your face hidden among the flowers before entering your room to leave the large bouquet on your bed. Any vase would break under the weight.

"Will you do me the great honor of taking you to the ball tonight?" Sukuna offered his hand along with a bow of respect.

"It would be an honor," you took his hand with a big smile on your face.

Sukuna took your hand and pulled it towards him so that your arm was wrapped around his lower arm. They walked through the flower-filled hallway. As they reached the end, you looked back to take one last look before heading to the Great Hall. Sukuna noticed this with curiosity and stopped.

“The flowers will be there when you come back,” he reminded you with a smile, he was glad that you liked it.

“I know, it’s just that it’s a beautiful gesture. I could spend all day admiring them,” you said without taking your eyes off them.

Sukuna gently let go of your arm. You followed him with a confused look as he knelt down in front of the flowers. The king picked out the prettiest daisies with his eyes and pulled them from the bouquets. He placed the flowers in your hair carefully, fitting them between the tiara to make sure they stayed there all night. Sukuna took a moment to scan your body with his penetrating gaze. You never failed to impress him with how good you looked in the pieces he picked out for you. The soft fabric of the dress contrasted with your skin tone, shining like a star in the sky.

“I prefer to admire you all day and all night, because not a million flowers compare to you.” Sukuna took your hand to kiss your knuckles.

“Who are you and what did you do to King Sukuna?” You asked, surprised by his touch.

“I’m all yours.” Sukuna leaned down to kiss your cheek. Your face lit up like a flame. “What’s going on?!” you thought in shock.

“It’s my pleasure to introduce King Sukuna Ryomen and his fiancée, Y/N!” The curse announced their arrival to the Great Hall at the top of their lungs.

The guests, servants, and curses welcomed them with enthusiastic applause, filling the air with vibrant energy. Your face lit up as you took in the scene. Everyone looked elegant, wrapped in fine white clothing, and let themselves be carried away by the joyful music that resonated in the hall. It was almost unreal to witness a celebration where curses and humans lived together in harmony, sharing laughter and moments as if the differences between both worlds had completely disappeared.

Kenjaku masterfully conducted an orchestra made up of curses, whose sounds intertwined in a mesmerizing melody. Meanwhile, Mahito chatted animatedly with an Uraume clearly annoyed by having worked all day. The hall was a spectacle in itself, decorated with an infinity of white flowers that adorned every corner and radiated an ethereal atmosphere. Above the dance floor, the imposing crystal chandeliers cast golden sparkles, elegantly illuminating the couples who moved to the beat of the music.

A new song began to play, and with it came the charming chaos of the servants rushing to find a partner. Mrs. Inoue pulled Mr. Wasuke towards the dance floor, despite his protests of not wanting to abandon his glass of wine. You observed the scene with a wide smile, infected by the collective joy.

From his place, Sukuna gave you a fleeting glance. Noticing how fascinated you were by the spectacle, a light smile curved his lips. Your excitement pleased him. The evening, more than an event for everyone, had been designed especially for you after all.

“May I have this dance?” Sukuna introduced himself with a bow.

“Of course, my king.” You introduced yourself as well.

Sukuna pulled you towards him with a smile on his face. Two of his hands held you tightly by the waist and one of his strong hands slowly intertwined with yours, taking his time to caress every millimeter of your skin. He took the lead immediately. You joined the others on the dance floor. You thought the king would forget his steps or have trouble with the rhythm, but he danced like he was already used to it.

“Your dancing is marvelous,” you complimented before spinning around.

“I had some help,” he looked away. “A lot of help,” he corrected.

You followed his gaze and found Mrs. Inoue, who, with a mischievous smile, gave him a thumbs up. Apparently, she had taken matters into her own hands when she noticed that the king had no idea how to behave around a lady. With her newfound enthusiasm, she had offered him a rush course in etiquette: from how to dance and flirt to the proper way to act chivalrously to impress you on this big night. And boy had she succeeded.

You gave your friend a knowing smile before turning your eyes back to the king, but he was already watching you, his gaze filled with such intense adoration that it made heat rise to your cheeks. Unable to help it, your smile widened, lighting up your face.

The song was coming to an end, and with it the crucial moment was approaching. You felt Sukuna’s hands slide firmly down your back, while the other descended to hold your knee. Your body began to lean towards the ground in an elegant movement, but you couldn’t stop the memories of the last time from flooding over you. The fall was still fresh in your memory, and nerves took over you.

Instinctively, you brought a hand to your shoulder, holding on tightly, prepared in case it happened again. However, something in the security of his grip and the intensity of his gaze gave you a spark of confidence. Maybe this time it would be different.

“I’m not going to let you go.” He whispered to you, reading the worry in your eyes. “I won’t make that mistake again.”

You knew he meant the dance step, but you wished it was more than that. You wanted it to be a lifelong promise. That he would be with you against all odds, through poverty and illness, until death took you from his side. The applause brought you back to reality. Sukuna put your feet back on the ground. You clapped as you glanced at him, wondering what he was thinking. Luckily for you, the same as you.

Mahito quickly approached you as the next song started. “Miss, may I have this piece?” You were about to answer, but the king stepped in.

“Get lost.” Sukuna growled before sending him flying away from the dance floor with a push. A few curses mocked the commander at the sudden occurrence.

“You didn't have to be so harsh, my king.” You sometimes forgot how strong he could be without even trying.

“From now on, I won't let anyone get close to you.”

“Isn't that a bit excessive?” You asked timidly.

“Not when it comes to you,” he said before pulling you towards him again to continue dancing the night away.

The night was still young and this was already the best of your life. You had never felt so happy as that night. You danced the night away to the music, chatted with some curious maids about your trip to the Zen'in kingdom, and drank a few glasses of wine. You were having a great time, but you still needed to apologize to the king, as you had promised Lady Inoue.

“My king, may I have a moment?” You asked, referring to the fact that you could talk in private.

“A lifetime if you want,” he answered confidently. “If he keeps talking like that, I’ll collapse,” you thought, feeling your knees turn to jelly.

You left the great hall and walked towards the bridges that connected the towers, seeking the relief of the cool night air. From there, you could see how the streetlights of the city glowed with a warm light, while the hills of the commune remained plunged in gloom. There was something deeply melancholic in that contrast: such a beautiful place, forced to hide in darkness when it could shine brighter than the city of curses itself.

The castle had its charm, and you couldn’t deny that you had learned to appreciate it. However, that sight reminded you of how much you missed home. Not just the physical place, but what it represented to you: a refuge, an identity, a sense of belonging that now felt distant and almost unattainable.

You hugged yourself, seeking comfort in your own arms as your eyes wandered beyond the streetlights, trying to find something in the distance that would calm the longing that was beating in your chest.

“Are you cold?” Sukuna asked.

He didn’t wait for your answer to take off his haori and placed it over your shoulders, leaving him completely exposed from the waist up. The warmth returned to you as you saw his perfectly carved body. The piece was too big for you, but it protected you from the cold wind that blew through the peak. You thanked him with a smile. Even though you loved the king, you were doing the right thing by acting in the shadows to protect your home from the chaos he was about to unleash.

“I wanted to apologize to you.” You started the conservation, but Sukuna waved his hand at you to stop.

“We can talk about it later. I want you to remember this night as one of the best in your life.”

“Still, it doesn’t seem fair to me. At least let me apologize for the letter, I…”

“Mrs. Inoue already confessed everything.”

“But she didn’t tell you the reason why I did it.” Sukuna raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “I hid from you that I wrote the letter to get revenge for what happened in the greenhouse. It was childish. I’m sorry.” You apologized with your head down.

“Then I’m to blame,” Sukuna declared.

Planning a ball was easy. Getting all the flowers from the open field, too. Manipulating an entire nation, a simple move. Even defeating King Jogo was no big deal. But facing this conversation… That was another story. 

His throat closed, stifling the words before they could form. His nails dug into the palms of his hands, a desperate attempt to hold on to where he was standing, to not give in to the impulse to flee. His entire body begged him to stop, that there was still time to turn back, to take refuge again in the facade he had built and perfected for over a thousand years.

Everything was easy, except this. Except looking into your eyes, those eyes that, with a single glance, managed to melt the cold armor he had spent so long forging.

“I hurt you on purpose because…” He blurted out in a small voice. “Just do it, damn it!” he scolded himself. “I’m terrified.”

“You? Terrified?” You blinked a couple of times, confused.

“Every time I’m with you, I feel weak, vulnerable, soft…” He confessed. “But I’ve never felt so alive in my life.”

You gasped as your king knelt in front of you. He took your hand gently, caressing your knuckles with his thumb. His face outlined by the lights of the lanterns combined with the blush of the moon. His rubies didn’t convey that roughness you were used to, but a hope you’d never seen before.

“Every time you touch me, my skin turns to glass. Every time you smile, I melt under your warmth. Every time you look at me… you make me feel human again.”

“Human?!” You opened your eyes wide upon hearing that. How could the king of curses, a giant with four arms and two pairs of eyes, be human? Mahito and Kenjaku seemed more human than him. You wanted to laugh at how absurd it sounded, but his serious face stopped you.

“You are my greatest weakness, but that only makes me strive to be stronger to protect you, my beloved daisy.” Sukuna planted a kiss on your knuckles. “I may be a king, but allow me to serve you for the rest of my life.” His lips ran over each of your fingers until they reached the back.

“I am definitely going to faint” you thought, barely supporting your weight on your heels. Your heart was burning with love for the man at your feet. A year ago you were the one on your knees cleaning his ears, bathing him or letting him step on you for his entertainment. You still couldn't believe how much things had changed.

“It may be late to start, but it's never too late to try again.” Sukuna said before taking a small box out of his pocket.

“I could promise to bring you the moon, the stars and the entire galaxy, but promising those things is too simple. I want to promise you something that no one else can get for you. On this beautiful night, I want to promise you that I will love you like I have not been loved in a thousand years of my life.” Sukuna opened the box to reveal the engagement ring he gave you in the Jogo kingdom. “I am not interested in being the king of curses when I can be your faithful husband.”

“My king…” You sobbed at the beautiful words.

“Will you marry me?”

“Yes, a thousand times yes!” You exclaimed before jumping into his arms.

He pulled you against his body, letting a big sigh escape his lips. He held your head against his shoulder as you cried from the euphoria that ran through your body. He smiled to himself as he heard you repeat “yes” in excitement. He placed the shiny ring on your finger.

“I love you, my king,” you said as he wiped away your tears.

“Please call me Sukuna,” he begged.

“I love you, Sukuna,” you repeated.

Hearing his name leave your lips ignited something inside him, a desire he wasn’t willing to ignore. Like a good king, he didn’t waste a second to claim what he wanted. With determination, he took your face in his hands and sealed your lips with a kiss full of passion. His movements were a perfect mix of tenderness and dominance: while his mouth delicately explored yours, his hands, firm on your hips, pulled you tightly towards his body. The need he had repressed for more than a week overflowed in that instant. Every gesture of his spoke of longing and desperation.

The lack of air forced them to separate, but they both smiled, their faces warm and small clouds of steam escaping from their ragged breaths. Sukuna lifted you into his arms with an ease that made you feel light as a feather, and rested his forehead against yours. Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around his neck, ready to seek out his lips again.

However, a thunderous round of applause interrupted them. They turned to the large windows of the great hall, and there they were, all the servants and curses, crowded together and watching the spectacle in fascination. Some cheered, others laughed, and in the middle of them, Lady Inoue sobbed uncontrollably, tears of happiness running down her cheeks.

“It’s about time,” Kenjaku complained to Uraume.

“First a ball, now a wedding. Give me a break,” Uraume shook their head.

The night was still young in the Zen’in kingdom. In the dim candlelight, the commander sat at the desk in his room. Naoya was a man of many talents, but there was one in particular that few knew about. With precise movements, he drew fine lines on the paper, outlining the figure of a naked woman, gracefully reclining on an elegant armchair.

His hands detailed each feature: the hair waving softly, the eyes seemed to look beyond the paper, and that smile… That smile that, since the last time he saw her, had disturbed his nights with its dazzling memory. Without realizing it, Naoya had captured in the drawing, every inch of her body, covered only by a sheet that accentuate your silhouette, sensual and delicate.

While he contemplated his work, his imagination transported him to that scene he had created. He saw himself approaching you, slowly, as if afraid of interrupting your peaceful rest on a velvet armchair next to a window from where the warm light of summer bathed the environment inside. With unusual tenderness, he brushed a lock of hair from your face, admiring the perfection of your shapes: the bare breasts, the hypnotic curve of your waist.

Desire began to burn inside him, palpable beneath the silk of his robe. It was then that your eyes slowly opened, still heavy from sleep, and you found him there, so close that you could feel his breathing. Before you could fully react, Naoya caught your lips in a passionate kiss, intense and full of repressed longing.

Your hands, trembling, but firm, slid over his bare chest, exploring every detail under the fine fabric. In a determined gesture, you opened his robe, revealing his arousal, and in that instant, both of you let yourselves be carried away by the inevitable attraction that consumed you.

“Commander…” You moaned on his lips before reaching his cock.

“Commander!” Another voice woke him from sleep.

Naoya screamed when he realized that his cousin, Ranta, had entered his room without permission while he was masturbating. The young man looked at him, perplexed by such a scandal. Naoya closed his leather notebook before closing his robe, completely blushing.

“Who the fuck gave you permission to enter?!” The commander scolded him.

“I knocked on the door like three times, I thought you were asleep,” Ranta defended himself, still confused. It was the first time he saw Naoya so upset and blushing. “Were you perhaps seeing something forbidden?” He mocked him with a hint of morbidity.

“No!” Naoya barked.

“I don’t believe you,” Ranta braced himself.

“I don’t give a shit if you don’t…!” Naoya’s body completely froze mid-sentence under his cousin’s technique. He was in trouble.

Ranta ran to the notebook to discover what his commander was hiding. In it, he found illustrations of landscapes, animals, and some familiar ones, but he stopped at the one he was currently working on.

“Wow… She’s so sexy. Who is she? She looks familiar,” Ranta wondered as he inspected the drawing closely. “Wait… Isn’t that that girl from the ball in the red dress? The maid… What was her name?” Ranta undid his technique.

“Y/n!” Naoya answered before snatching the notebook from him.

“Y/n… Yeah right,” Ranta reminded you. “Do you like her?”

“What? No way. She’s just attractive, that’s all.” Naoya denied having any feelings for you. Rather, he denied it to himself.

“Yeah, right.” Ranta rolled his eyes, knowing that this conversation was going nowhere. “I came by order of the king.”

“The king?” he asked, perplexed.

“Yes. He told me that all of us from The Hei will accompany him to the meeting of allied sorcerers.”

The Hei was an organization made up of the most powerful sorcerers of the Zen’in family, which was led by Naoya. The commander knew King Toji and his wife would go to the meeting of allied sorcerers that takes place every semester in the Gojo Kingdom. What he didn’t understand was why King Toji needed the Hei when only the kings can enter the room.

“We’ll leave in the morning,” Ranta told him.

“Thank you for letting me know.”

“I’m going to sleep, I’ll leave you alone with your drawing.” His cousin scoffed before leaving the room.

“Fuck you,” Naoya muttered before slamming the door shut.

He blew out the candles before finally going to bed. He closed his eyes and there you were in your red dress and unfriendly face. The chances of him seeing you again were painfully slim, but it was for the best. He was a commander, he didn’t need some random maid distracting him. He hit his pillow a few times to get comfortable. He tried to close his eyes again, but there you were again, letting King Gojo kiss you while he watched through a hole in the wall, wishing to take the albino’s place for at least a second.

“Get the fuck out of my head!” Naoya screamed into his pillow in frustration.

The dance had come to an end. The servants rested in their beds, exhausted from the evening, while the curses took their positions of vigilance, silent shadows under the moonlight. In the great hall, the guests of honor still raised glasses of wine, immersed in conversations bathed in laughter and secrets.

Sukuna, with his imposing bearing and confident walk, guided you along the path of flowers that led to your room. The fragrance of the petals, mixed with the night breeze, was a balm that intoxicated the senses. At his side, you felt the world blur into a whisper, and the only reality was his presence.

You could not contain the smile that curved your lips, a mixture of happiness and slight disbelief. The sweet words he had whispered to you during the night still echoed in your mind, warm and tempting, like a promise you could not ignore.

“This was the best night of my life. Thank you so much.” You stood on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek, but only reached his jaw.

“I’m glad you had fun. I understand why you like these balls so much.” Sukuna leaned down a little so you could give him a proper kiss on the cheek. “You must be tired from all that dancing. You should go to sleep.”

“I will.” Sukuna opened the door for you.

“Good night, my daisy.” He gave you one last kiss on the lips before leaving. If he stayed one more second, who knows what he was capable of doing to spend the rest of the night with you.

You took a step towards your room, but it felt wrong to enter alone. He was still in the same hallway, but you missed him already. You didn’t want him to leave. You really wanted to thank him for the unforgettable dance he planned for you, but words wouldn’t be enough. You smiled to yourself as you had a terrible idea.

“Sukuna.” The sweetness of his name coming out of your mouth made him stop suddenly. “Could you do me a favor?”

“How may I help you?” he asked as he returned to you.

“Mrs. Inoue surely already went to sleep. Would you help me untie my corset?” you asked timidly.

You took the haori off your shoulders and stepped out of the dress to be left in your corset and petticoat. Sukuna gulped as he saw your exposed skin in front of him. He had seen you naked before, why was he so nervous? This time, he understood what it meant for you to let him see you like that. Beyond love, it was trust.

His hands slowly traveled down your hips until they reached the bow of the corset on your lower back. Goosebumps rose on your skin as you felt his fingers brush the bare skin that peeked out over the petticoat. His hands trembled at the light contact. Now he understood that every touch, caress and feel counted to make you feel. He pulled one of the ribbons to undo the bow with agonizing slowness. He opened the corset little by little while his empty hands ran over your waist that he managed to expose. There was no turning back now.

The corset fell to the floor. Sukuna kissed your neck while his hands molded to your waist and breasts. You gasped as he pulled you towards his burly torso. His giant hands covered your breasts completely, kneading them like a baker in the morning. Your body involuntarily moved towards him. You stroked his pink hair as you opened the opening for him to fully explore your neck.

His thumbs hooked into your slip to pull it down along with your underwear. He caressed your legs on the way down. He cupped your ass and gave it a couple of slaps to watch it bounce. You smiled at the tickling. You kicked the slipway from you before clinging closer to the king with a mischievous smile. Your eyes widened as you felt the large bulge against your ass. You had imagined that since he was big, his member was too. But it was the erection that rubbed against you that was terribly large.

“You know I'm impatient,” Sukuna purred in your ear. “I can't wait until the wedding, tonight I'm going to make you the mother of my children.”

Sukuna carried you over his shoulder. He removed the bouquet of roses from the bed to lay you down on the bed, leaving you at the edge of it. The leftover rose petals tickled your skin. Sukuna knelt in front of you and spread your legs.

“What are you doing?” You moaned as soon as his thumb passed through the wet folds of your vulva.

“Preparing my dinner,” he answered before inserting his index finger.

A moan escaped your lips as soon as he invaded your body. It was intrusive, thick, tight. He slid his finger slowly, going deeper each time. Your flushed face was a work of art, and your moans were the best symphony he had ever heard. His cocks already wanted to escape from his pants, they will have their turn. First, he had to make sure you were wet, as the erotic books dictated. Sukuna reached your breasts to caress your nipples, erect from the cold. He pinched them gently, eliciting a moan from you. You covered your face in embarrassment of him seeing you like this. He moved up to your body and removed your hands that were blocking his sight.

“Let me see you, I want to make sure you like it,” he whispered before kissing your forehead.

He intertwined your fingers with his to keep your hands on the sides of your head. With his bottom hand he played with your nipples and the other one continued to fuck your vagina with two of his fingers. The tongue on his stomach licked your entire pussy, the tip passing directly over your clit. You arched your back as you felt him play with your button. Sukuna noticed and focused on having his tongue licking your clit. The tsunami of sensations was too much, almost unbearable. Sukuna attacked you from all possible sides, without leaving any place untouched. You squeezed your legs against his sides in an attempt to contain your body.

His lips traveled down your neck and down your shoulder. He took one of your breasts in his mouth and licked your nipple in circles. His predatory eyes on you made you feel small and harmless, like a hare in the jaws of a tiger. He continued his journey kissing your abdomen and focusing on your stomach. He held your hips under your legs as he heard your insides moving inside you.

“What do you want to have first? Girl or boy?” Sukuna asked you.

“As long as they’re healthy, I'll be happy.” You pull his hair tenderly.

“But if you could choose.” Sukuna insisted.

“A boy to give you the heir you want so much.” 

“A girl could also be my heir. If she's as strong as her mother, I'll be more than happy.” He said before continuing to kiss your thighs.

Even though you were in a situation where you couldn't think of anything else but your carnal needs, you couldn't help but evoke a smile, thinking of Sukuna with his baby in his arms. You had no idea what kind of father your future husband would be, but you were sure he would be a good one, or at least a decent one.

Sukuna snatched you from your domestic thoughts as soon as his mouth infiltrated your vagina. You arched your back as you felt him eat your core like he hadn't had a bite in years. He held your thighs tightly so you wouldn't close up to him. His tongue focused on pressing that button that made you moan louder. Your pussy tasted so good that he didn't want to stop anytime soon.

“'Kuna…” You gasped, holding onto the sheets.

Sukuna smiled against your pussy. It was the first time someone had called him an abbreviation like that. He bit one of your lips carefully to suck it slowly, causing an injection of adrenaline to run through your body.

“I won't last long if you keep going like this…” You admitted.

“You're going to last until I tell you to.” “That’s the king I know” you thought.

Sukuna pulled down his pants, letting out his monstrosity. Or rather, both of his monstrosities. Your mouth dropped in shock. There was no way those things would get inside you. The king approached your body, but you backed away in fear.

“What's wrong?” He asked, confused.

“You're crazy if you think that's going to fit in,” you stammered.

“A baby is going to come out of there, I think it can,” he told you before taking possession of your body.

You swallowed dryly when you saw him on top of you. You were about to defend yourself, but Sukuna shut you up, sliding one of his cocks through the wet folds. You took his arms when you felt how well he molded on you. Sukuna let out a curse from his lips, it felt much better than his hand.

“Be careful. I've been told that the first time hurts,” you whispered, embarrassed.

“Whatever my queen asks for,” he placed a kiss on your forehead to take away your worries.

He took his lower member and slowly introduced it into your intimacy, while the other rested between your lips. It was big, thick, tight. It was abysmal, but it felt so good against your walls. He went all the way in, breaking your walls. A pang made you let out a small tear of pain. Sukuna quickly kissed your tear away.

He slowly moved his hips against you. He growled against your ear at how tight you were. You wrapped around his cock so tightly that he thought he was in heaven even though he deserved hell. He fought with every fiber of his body against his instinct not to move like an animal in heat, he had to make sure you felt good.

The pang of pain was exchanged for a feeling of pleasure and fullness that you had never experienced before. Your fingers ran down his back as you felt every inch and vein against you. Your nipples brushed against his soft pecs, while the tongue on his stomach played with your clit.

Hearing you moan again, Sukuna immediately knew he could keep going. He moved his hips harder to hit your core. You grabbed his hair to pull him against you. A moan escaped his lips at that minimal display of control. Even though he liked to say that you were all his, the truth was that he was all yours without any kind of restriction.

“You’re taking it very well,” Sukuna congratulated you before biting your neck.

“It feels good,” you moaned against his ear.

Sukuna picked up the speed with each thrust. He was getting faster and harder that at some point you thought you were going to break. He took possession of your hips and raised his back to see you from above, an image that used to terrify you, but now excited you.

“God…” You gasped.

“Don't you dare bring another man into this,” he scolded you before giving you a spank that echoed through the room.

You howled in pain, but Sukuna didn't stop. He continued to fuck you with what little he had left. The climax wasn't about to take long. It was hard to hold back with the beautiful sight before him. Your legs spread before him still wearing the heels with small flowers on the ribbons, your breasts bouncing with each rough movement and your face flushed. He bit his lower lip before continuing to fuck you as only he could. The combination of their two wet cocks was too powerful to bear. You clawed at his thighs in an attempt to calm your cravings, but it was no use as you heard your fiancé moan.

“I need to cum,” you whispered.

“Almost there, a few more minutes, my love,” he babbled in ecstasy.

This was definitely not the curse, I mean, the man you were used to. Despite his great muscles, he had a harmless look full of pleasure. He continued to pump your center with firm and fast thrusts until his cock twitched.

“Only you can do this to me, my daisy,” he growled before continuing to fuck you hard.

You arched your back as you felt he had no mercy on your small body. His tip rubbed perfectly against your G-spot making it harder not to cum. You moaned his name over and over again until the expected climax hit your intimacy. Sukuna didn't let you rest until he came in and out of you, leaving your body full of his semen.

You both sighed heavily as if he had finished training. His arms were resting on the sides of your head so as not to crush you. Sukuna kissed your forehead before pulling out of you, leaving a trail of milk at your entrance. He laid down next to you to let you breathe a little, but to his surprise, you hugged his chest tightly.

“That felt really good,” you whispered to him shyly.

“It's something I've wanted to do for a long time,” he confessed with an embarrassed smile.

“Sukuna, what a perverted man you are,” you scolded him with a playful smile.

“Blame your teacher for that. Every time I read his books, I can't help but think of you,” he told you before placing a kiss on your forehead.

Sukuna got out of bed to look for a rag to clean you with. You laid down on the bed with a smile plastered on your face as the king cleaned up his remains from you. Now he was the one cleaning you up. “Oh, the twists and turns of life” you thought amused.

“What are you thinking about?” Sukuna asked you as he saw your face.

“What names can we give our children.” You lied so he wouldn’t feel embarrassed.

“Good, because  you’ll choose” Sukuna said before throwing the cloth aside.

“Why not choose them together?” You pouted before he tucked you in.

“Because you’ll be carrying him for nine months. I’ll agree to whatever name you choose.” Sukuna kissed your lips before laying down next to you.

He snuggled into your body. You smiled as you remembered the first time you slept together in his big bed. You were terrified that you would do something wrong while he was sleeping like a cute little kitten. You were going to remind him of that day until you noticed that he had already fallen completely asleep. You kissed his arm before walking with him, as you would do for the rest of your life.

Masterlist.

A/N: So after some consideration, I need a break from this fic because I wanna work on other fics I have kinda abandoned because of this one. Plus, I want to write an original novel! I'll be updating about it here, thanks for your support and understanding, happy holidays! :3

taglist:

Tag list: @bbnbhm @pxnellian @kbirdieee2540 @konigswifeyforlifey @kyo-kyo1 @calico-cheriies @imas1mpp @alone-the-honored-one @vlads-dracula3 @bigraga-sk @neeke-lilac02 @shaazd @airandyeah @energiepie @awkward-walking-potato @delightfully-studying @danniwerner @paradisestarfishh @missroro

(let me know if you want to be tagged in next chapters!)

[nebulablakemurphy]

What’s in a name?

Summary: Haymitch Abernathy x Reader set in the moves & countermoves universe. Y/N is currently pregnant with their second child and they need a name.

Warning: 18+ ONLY MDNI (Smut)

They struck gold with Everest, the child and his namesake. The people of Panem loved the grandiose nature of the name Everest.

The novelty of his existence dwindled over the years, in the public eye. But to his parents, he becomes more perfect each day. By the age of three he possesses luxuries other children his age could only dream of.

Y/N and Haymitch are more than happy with just him. The thought of another child rarely crosses their minds.

Y/N is reading to Everest on the living room couch when Haymitch receives the pristine white envelope stuffed through the mail slot. He skims over the letter three times, painting on a smile as he returns to his wife and son.

Y/N knows him well enough by now that she can feel his distress. Waiting until after Everest is tucked into bed to whisper, “Haymitch, what’s wrong?”

“Snow wants us to have another baby.”

“Ok,” Y/N takes the blow better than she had the first time. “We knew this was coming.”

Haymitch curls his fist around the open bottle of liquor on their bedside table. He gulps it down, unwilling to admit how much he hates the way she isn’t surprised. Even when she cries or screams or throws things, she is fighting. This time she doesn’t fight at all, doesn’t resist in the slightest and it breaks his heart.

He takes it out on her two days later, without meaning to. Instructions from Snow come, sentencing them to the “room” in Y/N’s house with the cameras.

Madge stays with Everest at their house, oblivious to it all.

Before long Y/N is face down, fisting her pretty hands in the sheets as he fucks her.

Haymitch can’t see her face, perhaps that’s why he positioned them this way. He doesn’t deserve to see it.

Her fingers search for his, longing to entwine them, but his mind is far from here, far from his body and her. Going through the motions.

“I love you, Haymitch.”

No, his hips falter. Not that, anything but that. He runs a hand along her spine, her sweat damp skin. “Turn around,” he pulls out, rocking back on his heels to give her room.

Y/N turns to face him, catching her breath. Watching with worried eyes. They don’t switch positions during a recording unless it’s been requested specifically. The goal is always to finish as quickly as possible.

Haymitch closes the space between them, leaning onto his forearms as he eases himself back inside her. “I love you so much.” He murmurs against her ear, causing Y/N to shiver. “I love you.”

Y/N nods, burying her hands in his hair. Understanding how hard those words are for him to speak. “I know.”

“I love you.” A plea, an apology.

“I love you too.” Y/N holds him to her, kissing any part of him she can reach.

————————————————————————-

Haymitch wastes no time, the minute the test is positive, he is on his knees. Talking to their sweet baby, kissing Y/N’s belly, telling them stories. The way he feels about his wife hasn’t changed much since her first pregnancy, he just knows how to communicate it better. He knows what she likes and what she doesn’t, he knows the extent of reassurance she needs to feel safe.

As her belly grows, Y/N comes to him often, seeking comfort in the form of physical intimacy. He welcomes her with open arms, makes her happy. Makes her laugh. Makes her cum. Doing everything he wishes he would have while she was pregnant with Everest.

“Do you think it’s another boy or a girl?” Y/N wonders, watching her husband trace patterns across her belly.

Haymitch smiles, “girl.”

————————————————————————

A few months later his suspicions are confirmed, they are expecting a daughter, announced via Caesar Flickerman and a slew of pink confetti.

Everest squeals in his father’s arms, until Haymitch sets him down so he can dance under the falling pink glitter.

Y/N turns to her husband, with a knowing smile.

“I told you so.” Haymitch cocks his head to the side.

Y/N is in his arms a moment later, silencing him with a kiss.

————————————————————————-

“Is there a name you like?” Haymitch asks; she gets first pick.

Y/N shakes her head, “this one’s all you.”

Finding a name suitable for this child takes months.

“Can’t you just tell me, kid?” He whispers to his unborn child. “What’s your name?”

Y/N chuckles.

“Help me out here.” A swift kick to his nose tells Haymitch that he’ll just have to keep looking.

He searches high and low for a name. In books from the hob and passersby on the street, until finally he passes over the third page of the potential names again.

Arista.

‘The name Arista has its origins in the Greek language and signifies 'Best.’

“Arista,” he murmurs.

“That’s pretty.” Y/N smiles, passing a hand over her belly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

[sunny374940]

I will teach you all I know

So here's a little story about Emmrich learning that his daughter is a mage.

Here it is on ao3

“FIRE!” Manfred was yelling excitedly from the living room. While this would not be an unusual occurrence in itself, the sound that followed made Emmrich's blood freeze. Ellie was screaming in fear and Emmrich was out of his study and down the stairs in mere seconds, skidding to a stop in front of his daughter. She was standing there, crying, and he fell down on his knees to examine her for any signs of injury, but blessedly there was nothing to be seen. So what was-

Ah. There was a burnt patch on the rug, Manfred must have stamped the fire out.

“Manfred?” he half asked, half admonished. He had directly forbidden any unsupervised magic inside the house and yet here they were.

“NOT MANFRED,” came the answer. Well, that mystery could wait, Emmrich decided, directing his attention back to Ellie. She was shaking, tears were still streaming down her face and she looked so terrified that Emmrich's heart almost broke at the sight. He drew her into an embrace, holding her tightly and stroking her hair until the tremors finally stopped. She squirmed in his arms and he let her go.

“Elanora, what happened? Are you alright?”

“It was an accident!” she wailed, on the verge of more tears. “I don't know what happened, it just started burning!” And then she was sobbing again and Emmrich picked her up to comfort her. She rested her head on his shoulder and his mind went back to the time when she was a baby, when he and Rook carried her through countless nights just like this. And now she was six years old and such a happy and clever child. Though not so happy at the moment, it seemed.

Emmrich looked at Manfred with a raised eyebrow.

“Manfred, could you please tell me what happened here?”

“SHE'S LIKE MANFRED! LIKE YOU!”

What? Like him? Surely not… “What do you mean?”

“MAGIC!” Manfred was clapping his hands in glee.

Emmrich gaped at him. She was a mage? She was a mage! Oh, but how he looked forward to teaching her! But that was for later, now he had a scared little girl in his arms who deserved an explanation.

“Ellie, would you come down for a bit?”

She sniffled but nodded against his shoulder and he settled her on the sofa and sat down next to her. He handed her a handkerchief and she blew her nose with a honk, giggling at the sound she produced. He rolled his eyes fondly. All was right in the world when his daughter was amused by bodily functions.

“Do you understand what happened?” he asked softly.

“Noo? But I didn't want to do it, I was playing dragons with Freddy and I was burning down a village and it was just pretend, but then the rug caught fire!” She was getting agitated again and Emmrich ran a hand down her back to help her calm down.

“I am not angry with you, my dear. You are showing the first signs of being able to use magic, though you are not yet able to control it.”

Her eyes lit up. “I'm gonna be a mage? Like you?”

“Yes, you are. But there is much studying ahead of you, if you wish to master it.”

She nodded seriously. “I can do it, daddy, don't worry.”

“Of that I have no doubt.”

Right then the front door opened, heralding Rook's return from the market. Ellie took off after him immediately.

“Dad, dad!” she yelled, running up to him and he caught her in a hug.

“Hey, little bug, how was your day?“

“I burned a hole in the rug and I'm gonna be a mage like daddy!” she said proudly, pointing at the rug in question. They walked back to Emmrich and Ellie plopped herself on the sofa, examining her hands hopefully for signs of more fire coming out of them.

“Oh. Okay?” Rook looked at Emmrich, more than a little confused.

“Rook, it is marvelous! She managed to produce flame all by herself. And at such a young age!”

“Wow, that's great! Well, not the rug, I mean. And she's gonna have the best teacher right at home.”

Rook said the last part with such conviction that Emmrich blushed a little at the words. Then Rook turned back to Ellie.

“Are you gonna be a necromancer like your daddy?”

“Nope. I wanna be cool like Neve and make ice knives!” She was animated now, making woosh-woosh noises, pretending to cast magic at an invisible opponent.

Emmrich sputtered at her comment and Rook's shoulders were shaking with quiet laughter.

“Excuse me, young lady, is commanding the dead not ‘cool’ enough for you?” he asked, pretending to be offended.She patted his hand consolingly.

“Neve can teach you to make ice too, if you want to be cool, you know.”

Rook was still snickering, but Emmrich pretended not to see.

“I shall remember that, then, should I ever wish to become cool like Neve and yourself,” he said haughtily, but there was laughter in his voice he couldn't quite hide.

He raised his gaze back to Rook, who was now watching him with a warm smile.

“So there are gonna be three mages in the house now? I'm beginning to feel a little outnumbered,” Rook chuckled, taking a hold of Emmrich's hand. “But I guess I'll manage, they're family, after all.”

Emmrich smiled back at him, still as hopelessly in love with his husband as he was when they first got together. Rook tugged at his hand to bring him closer and then he kissed him in belated greeting. Emmrich reciprocated happily, until-

“Daaaad!”

Rook drew away and looked at their daughter with a grin.

“Yeah, El?”

“Ew. Take yourselves elsewhere please,” she said in such a good imitation of Emmrich's voice that they both burst out laughing.

[wholoveseggs]

A Tale of Tinsel and Turmoil

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}{Five Days of Fluffmas}

{Elijah Mikaelson x Reader} When Kol brings home a Christmas tree too grand for the Mikaelson courtyard, the family’s decorating antics spiral into chaos...

♡♡Merry Christmas♡♡

1.5 words - Warnings: flufffff, holiday decorating gone wrong, mischievous Kol, Christmas tree theme debates, Hope's word is law && lots of love and laughter...

@starkleila @lydia1369sworld @notleylaaa @vampiresluv

@myanmy @xflowerbombxo @maryvibess @always-and-forever-daydreaming

@spnaquakindgdom @amournoir @meeom @damienmorton @wickedmuse

@cs-please @complicatedandconfusing-25 @youcanhavemybuckanyday @akala6670229 @yeaiamme2

@itsjulzandmydiamonds @witch-of-letters @elijahstwink @rosecentury

@amanda08319 @starshipcookie @li-da-savage @veggie-eggrolls @spideybv28

@sunkissedebony97 @idk00sblog @savannaounana @sekaishell @b1tchy

@loving-and-dreaming @fancycassie-stayfancy @hcqwxrtss123 @iamawkwardandshy @ziayamikaelson

@absolutemarveltrash @darkened-writer @nina6708 @evasmlp

@madeinmyownmind-blog @lovelyy-moonlight @blacknightrises @poppet05 @sweetieseven

@xoxo-shy @nova-j @decaffeinatedparadisepost @fandom-princess-forevermore @theotherworld97

@origshipfan @cocoabliss @eternalnoble @darth-laeka

It had been a while since the entire Mikaelson family had been under the same roof, but when Kol came through the door carrying a massive Christmas tree, he was quickly met by an excited Hope, who had been waiting impatiently for him to come home.

"Uncle Kol!" the little girl cried, rushing into his arms and hugging him tightly. "You brought the tree!"

"Well, of course I did, little darling," he said, returning the hug just as eagerly.

Elijah cast a skeptical glance at the towering tree as Kol began setting it up in the courtyard. It stretched nearly to the third-floor balcony, its branches sprawling like a small forest.

"Was a tree of this size really necessary?" Elijah asked, his tone dry but patient.

Kol shrugged, carefully securing the base. "Why not? The holidays are all about extravagance," he replied, stepping back to admire his handiwork.

"Daddy! Mommy! Come see the tree!" Hope cried out, racing off to find her parents.

You leaned against the second-floor railing, watching the commotion below. Kol stood proudly by the massive tree, grinning like a child on Christmas morning, while Klaus approached, already scowling.

"Where did you get this?" Klaus asked, arms crossed. "They certainly aren’t selling these at the tree lot."

"I found it," Kol answered vaguely, his mischievous grin widening under Rebekah’s pointed glare. "Perhaps with a bit of magical assistance,"

"Kol..." Elijah warned, his calm tone carrying a note of exasperation.

Before Kol could reply, a small voice interrupted. "Uncle Elijah," Hope said, tugging on his sleeve. Her big, hopeful eyes were enough to melt even Elijah’s stoic demeanor. "Will you help me decorate the tree?"

Elijah smiled warmly, lifting her into his arms. "Of course, sweetheart."

Your heart melted at the sight. Elijah had always had a way with Hope, his tenderness shining through in moments like these.

"I can help too, uncle Kol can't keep me from it," Rebekah said with a smirk.

Klaus was quick to jump in, "oh please, Bekah, I think we all know I'm the better decorator."

"Go get the decorations, and then we'll see about that," Rebekah told her brother, crossing her arms.

Elijah handed Hope off to Hayley and went to the storage room where the ornaments were kept. As he walked, he caught your gaze, and gave you a soft smile, his eyes twinkling. You found yourself following him into the storage room.

"Do you want me to carry that?" you asked, taking in the large cardboard box Elijah had pulled from the shelf.

"Thank you, but I'm perfectly capable of carrying a box," he told you with a chuckle.

"Well, it looks heavy," you replied, giving him a smirk.

He raised his eyebrow, "are you saying I'm not strong enough to lift a box? My dear I can lift you without even breaking a sweat."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes," he told you, stepping closer.

You bit your lip, trying to keep yourself from grinning. Elijah's eyes darted to your lips, a smirk forming on his face. He stepped even closer, his body almost brushing yours.

"So, are you going to prove it or not?" You asked, a challenging tone in your voice.

He smirked, leaning in close enough for his lips to brush the shell of your ear. His voice was low and raspy when he whispered, "I will be more than happy to show you later,"

Your breath hitched, and heat pooled in your lower stomach. You looked up at him, his face only inches from yours, and his gaze was hungry, but he wouldn't move any closer, not until you told him. The two of you had been dancing around each other for months now, neither one wanting to make the first move, but you were starting to think he might actually kiss you.

"Are you two love birds coming?" Rebekah's voice called out, effectively shattering the moment.

You stepped back, blushing furiously. Elijah gave you an apologetic smile before lifting the box and carrying it to the courtyard.

The ornaments were quickly passed around and the decorating began. Klaus, Kol, and Rebekah were trying to de-tangle the string lights, while Hope was helping Freya and Hayley pick out the prettiest ornaments. You and Elijah were sorting through the tinsel, contemplating which colors to use.

As the family began decorating, the bickering started almost immediately. Rebekah held up a string of red and gold ornaments. "We’re going traditional! Red, green, and gold. It’s classic."

Klaus scoffed. "Traditional? How dull. We should go for a winter wonderland theme. White, silver, and blue. Sophisticated."

"Traditional is timeless!" Rebekah snapped, hanging a gold bauble on the tree.

"And winter wonderland is elegant," Klaus retorted, tossing a strand of silver tinsel onto the tree.

Kol, watching from the sidelines, smirked. "Both of you have awful taste. Let’s make it fun! Bright colors everywhere. I bet this sturdy tree can hold all of our ornaments,"

The three of them turned toward each other, their voices growing louder. Freya sighed and crossed her arms. "Are we seriously doing this? Hope is right there. Can’t we go one holiday without arguing?"

"We’re not arguing," Klaus said, his tone anything but convincing.

"We’re discussing," Rebekah added with a sharp smile.

"Oh, really?" Freya asked, raising an eyebrow. "Then why do I hear so much shouting and so little decorating?"

Before anyone could respond, Hope, who had been quietly observing, spoke up. "I want it all purple! Purple is my favorite!"

Everyone turned to look at her. Klaus, ever the doting father, immediately relented. "Purple it is, my little princess."

Elijah chuckled softly, already retrieving the purple tinsel. "It seems the debate has been settled."

"Smart choice," you teased, watching him as he carefully handed a strand of tinsel to Hope.

As the decorating continued, the tree began to take shape—a towering display of purple tinsel and a mix of ornaments, each with its own bit of family history. Despite the occasional bickering, the atmosphere was warm and filled with laughter.

Finally, Klaus stepped back, surveying the nearly finished tree. "Now, we just need the topper," he declared.

"I want to do it!" Hope said, bouncing on her toes.

Klaus’s eyes widened. "Absolutely not. It’s too dangerous. The tree is massive."

"But Daddy—" Hope started, her pout already forming.

"No, sweetheart," Klaus said firmly. "Uncle Kol chose the most ridiculous tree imaginable. You won't be able to reach the top."

Hope crossed her arms and let out a dramatic sigh, she was so much like her father sometimes. 

"Finnnnne," she groaned. "But someone needs to do it!"

"I got it," you offered, climbing the stairs to the second floor balcony.

Elijah followed you. "You should let me," he said, reaching the railing and offering his hand. "If you fall, you could really hurt yourself,"

"Are you going to catch me if I fall?" you asked, your eyes twinkling with mirth.

He grinned. "Of course, I will.”

In one smooth motion, Elijah placed his hands at your waist and lifted you effortlessly. You gasped, your hands instinctively gripping his shoulders as he steadied you, holding you high enough to reach the top. Hope clapped her hands below, beaming with excitement.

"Easy now," Elijah murmured, his voice calm and steady. "You’ve got this."

You placed the star carefully, adjusting it until it sat perfectly centered. "Done!" you exclaimed, turning to beam at him.

But in your excitement, you shifted your weight too far. Elijah tried to steady you, but the combination of your movement and the tree’s precarious balance was too much. The massive tree wobbled, then toppled, sending all of the ornaments and purple tinsel scattering across the courtyard.

Chaos erupted immediately. Klaus shouted something about Kol ruining Christmas, Rebekah shrieked about broken ornaments, and Freya and Hayley tried to calm everyone down. Hope, however, clapped her hands, laughing as she declared it "the funniest Christmas ever."

Elijah, still holding you securely, slowly lowered you to the ground. His expression was a mix of exasperation and amusement. "I think we may have caused a bit of trouble," he said, his tone light.

You couldn’t help but laugh. "A bit?" you echoed, gesturing to the glittering mess.

His hands lingered at your waist, steady and warm as you met his gaze. For a moment, the chaos around you faded. Elijah’s dark eyes softened, and you felt a pull so strong you couldn’t resist. Leaning up, you pressed your lips to his.

The kiss was soft and warm, a long-awaited moment that felt just as perfect as you’d imagined. When you pulled back, your cheeks were flushed, and Elijah’s signature smirk was firmly in place.

"I suppose toppling the tree was worth it," he said, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

"Completely worth it," you replied, grinning.

Kol groaned loudly from below. "Oh, for the love of Christmas, can you two stop being disgustingly cute for one second? Come help us clean up,"

Elijah didn’t even glance at him. "Perhaps if you weren’t so careless with your magical trees, Kol, this wouldn’t have happened."

As the family bickered and laughed, you stayed where you were, Elijah still holding you close. In the middle of the glittering mess, surrounded by laughter, love, and a little chaos, you realized there was nowhere else you’d rather be.

[rizzanon]

I agree with anon that your story does give reincarnated into a villainess story vibe!

Since multiverse is canon in DC I would Imagine reader body swapping with a version of them in a fantasy historical universe but it's still batfam but this time it's Grand Duke Wayne. He is the himbo duke who inherited the dukedom when his parents died in a carriage accident. Plot twist they were assassinated by a rival noble family(Joker waz here). He still plays a dark knight who protects his people from the shadows, just less tech and more unhinged fist fighting and chains. Not in the kinky way kind of chains.

Reader is an illegitimate child born from a commoner woman that Bruce slept with when he went to a different kingdom as a diplomat. The only reason you were recognized as a Wayne was because your mother made a fuss and somehow you were taken in by Bruce.

Reader was not treated poorly but was also not treated well by the other older family members. They kinda just not existed in the manor. The other family members on the other hand seems to be hell bent on making your stay as terrible as possible. If you could give rating, you'd give it a 4/10. Awesome house, not so awesome family members, especially the stabby spite filled 10 years old. At least your Damian from the original universe wasn't this murder driven anymore.

Honestly I could see reader just going crazy from the lack of tech, high society shit, and the weird attention that the Waynes are giving her. Aren't hey supposed to hate her or something? Why are they looking at her like that? Also when will your Bruce even notice that you're gone, will they even notice you're gone?

yoo wait this is actually sick anon. you should probably write about this HAHA i would definitely love to read something like this because this lowkey gives off kill the villainess vibes (kind of, depends whether the reader in this wants to return to their og universe or not) 🫣🤭

[loki-cees-all]

I'm Dreaming of A White Christmas

Cee's James Conrad Fic Masterlist / AO3 Link

Pairing : James Conrad x Female Reader

Summary : After another long journey through the hot jungle with Conrad, you come to the startling realization that it’s actually Christmas Eve.

W/c : 2.8k words

Content / Warnings : Non-traditional Christmas smut, Non-traditional Christmas fluff.

Author’s Note : This fic is dedicated to Climate Change, for making me have to suffer through 20+ years of Christmas without a single fucking flake of snow to show for it 🙃

18+ Only - Minors DNI

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Sweaty would have been an understatement. 

After two days in the jungle, after traipsing through endless amounts of grimy mud and sticky bushes and shouting yourself raw, it felt like no amount of cold showers was ever going to bring your body temperature back down to something reasonable.

Hell, it was damn near midnight now, and the outside humidity was still hovering well over 90%. But even in those conditions, the entire ordeal was worth it in the end. 

You probably spent over half an hour in the shower once you made it back to the hostel. Just standing there, letting the water run down your scalp and skin, until your muscles were too heavy and exhausted to even reach for a bar of soap. Instead, your eyes fluttered closed while your mind replayed the dramatic events over the past two days. 

Eventually you forced yourself to actually wash yourself and dry off. Conrad would surely be back soon, if he wasn’t already, and you wanted to be waiting for him when he finally returned. You wanted to hear about the look of joy on that poor mother’s face when her child was finally returned safely. 

After dressing in what passes for clean clothes these days, you begin to sweat again before even making it back to the room. Cursing God, and Lucifer, and Jesus, and anyone else you could think of, you pushed open the door and flopped unceremoniously onto the stiff bed. 

Christ, even the bedsheets were sticky and miserable. It’s a good thing you were so unbelievably exhausted, otherwise you might never be able to fall asleep tonight. And a sticky bed was way better than sleeping on the ground at least, but still - you’d absolutely murder someone just for the chance at a crisp, heavy snowfall tonight. 

For a chilly, decadent Winter Wonderland, a fuzzy sweater, and a creamy hot chocolate. It’d been ages since you’d last felt a genuine shiver…

Groaning, you slowly push up to sitting and try to blink yourself awake. While rolling your shoulders to pop your neck, you glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It read half an hour till midnight, and your heart rate picked up a little bit. Only an hour had passed since temporarily parting ways with Conrad, and you already couldn’t wait to see him again. 

To keep yourself occupied while waiting, you step gingerly over to the single table in your room and grab your canvas knapsack from the chair. Inside the bag, nestled between your empty canteen and a seemingly endless supply of empty peanut wrappers, is the journal you used to document your adventures with Conrad. 

The journal has definitely seen better days. Its edges are bent and torn, the cover is littered with mud and water stains - but it was your most prized possession. Inside those pages were beautiful, tragic, tales of both wanderlust and wonderful lust. Traveling with Conrad was a once-in-a-lifetime experience, from midnight skinny-dipping to beach camping and stargazing. 

You’d seen more marvels of the world than most people ever get to dream about. And the fact that you got to experience it all with such a stunning man was nothing more than a miracle. 

In-between those special moments, there would occasionally be a less-than savory or even potentially dangerous mission to take on. They were just in order to fund your more pleasant adventures, but even the stress and peril was well worth it to you. Every moment with that tall, devastatingly handsome, perfectly muscular and very protective former soldier was a dream come true - snowy weather or not. 

A warm breeze drifts in through the open window, charitably stirring the stagnant air in the room. It was a temporary reprieve, and just enough to get you to uncap your pen and begin writing. 

Over the next several pages, recollections of the previous days’ events poured out seamlessly. The stop at this small village, just a day’s walk from Saigon, was supposed to be a quick one; just long enough to find a place to bathe and stock up on supplies for the final trek of your journey. 

But as soon as Conrad heard a mother’s anguished screams of terror down the street, he literally dropped everything and took off running. By the time you managed to pay the vendor, gather the purchased wares from the street and take off after him, he had disappeared. 

A few minutes later you finally managed to find him, down on his knees and comforting the distraught mother in broken Vietnamese while her neighbors and other children shouted additional information to him. Eventually, he was able to determine that the woman’s youngest child, a boy no more than 2 or 3 years old, had taken off suddenly - possibly into the jungle, and definitely terribly lost. 

One look from Conrad was all it took to let you know that Saigon could wait; finding this missing child was way more important than any other task he’d ever been given. Only a monster would ever disagree with him about something like that. 

Shortly thereafter, you were journeying back into the jungle with Conrad, alongside the woman’s brother and his two eldest children. All four of you walked from sunrise to sundown, meticulously searching every inch of the earth in widening, concentric circles - slowly venturing further and further into the jungle, looking for clues and desperately calling out the name of the missing child. 

If it were up to Conrad, you knew he’d keep looking throughout the night, and that he was only stopping at sunset to give you and the others a chance to rest. But as soon as he thought you were asleep, he’d slip out of your tent and go off searching by himself all night, returning to camp just before sunrise and looking more weary than ever. 

But eventually, you all did manage to find the child. When Conrad pulled that scared little boy down from the tree, you wept actual tears of joy. He was mostly uninjured, just frightened and starving and sporting a few more scrapes and cuts than before. And after getting a little bit of food and water into his belly, the former soldier dutifully carried him all the way back to the village. 

He’d directed you to go straight to the hostel to get cleaned up while he returned the child to his mother, and that was where the journal entry concluded for now. Your eyes filled with happy tears once more as you skimmed over the words you’d just written; you’d never ever seen Conrad more pleased or relieved than in the moment when he finally located the little boy alive. 

Finding people and reuniting lost loved ones was in his blood, it was woven tightly into his DNA. It was what he lived for most; the one thing he’d never been able to have himself.  

With a relieved sigh, you flip back a few pages to check the date of the previous entry, and your breath suddenly hitches in surprise. Could this be right?! Maybe all the sweat was seeping into your brain and drowning all of your synapses beyond functionality…

But no. You double- and then triple-check. You count on your fingers, you write out each date individually in the margin of the page. The last entry, written the morning you and Conrad were due to arrive in the village, two whole days prior, was dated December 22nd. Making today…December 24th. 

Christmas Eve. 

Your heart flutters in your chest as a wave of excitement and painful nostalgia crashes over the room. Life is so much different now than when you were a kid; of course Christmas wouldn’t be any exception, no matter how much you loved the holiday. And it doesn’t feel right, sweating and feeling like you’re boiling alive on the day before Christmas - yet, here it is all the same. 

Mercifully, the pain is short-lived as you sense the familiar thud of Conrad’s boots finally coming up the stairs. The sound of his voice, spirited yet exhausted, reverberates off your skin as he laughs with another guest of the hostel. You barely have enough time to bite your lip in anticipation before he’s bursting into the room, a lovely grin on his face and his jeans and knapsack covered in dirt and muck. 

Like he’s Santa Clause, and he’s finally come round to you, bearing gifts of good news and his very own presence. 

You hop out of your seat, matching his giddy grin with one of your own. “Kid’s back home now? Safe and sound?” 

Before he can even finish nodding, you’re across the room and jumping into his arms. Luckily, Conrad is already quite adept with this maneuver and he catches you with ease, bracing his arms underneath your thighs as they wrap around his waist. 

“Was that doubt I sensed in your tone just now, darling?” he teases playfully against your lips, his large hands shifting to grip your ass. 

You laugh, wrapping your arms tighter around his neck and shifting closer in his grasp to let your lips brush against his. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of doubting you…” 

“There’s a good girl…” Conrad purrs before closing the distance between your lips, kissing you passionately and eagerly. 

You moan into it, shifting one hand to cup his jaw as your lips part between his. Rushed and heated, his kisses taste like salt and sun and rain. Like home; a new one, completely the opposite of where you’d originally come from, but still somehow everything you’d ever needed. 

It’s funny how things work out like that. 

Before you can take another breath, he begins walking you both backwards, his hands squeezing your ass before you both go toppling onto the bed. As soon as you land and arch yourself beneath him, his kisses shift down your jaw to your neck, his teeth gently scraping against the delicate skin there. 

“Christ, you smell incredible…” he groans deeply, his hands sliding up over your hips and underneath your tank top. 

You let out a soft hum, grinning as he pushes the tank top up over your breasts, and then gasping as his lips find your nipple. Conrad was always a hungry man, but never more so than after a win like today. 

“It’s called showering, Captain. You should try it sometime…” 

His smirk grows exponentially after you tease him, devilish and intense as he crawls back up to let his lips hover just a heated breath above yours. 

“Perhaps you should’ve waited for me…washed my back, while I washed yours…” he groans, the sound of it breathless and sinfully delirious already. For good measure, he rolls his hips in an enticing manner, slowly increasing the pressure against your throbbing clit. 

As if you needed any additional reasons to want him this badly. 

With each roll of his hips, you shudder in pleasure, the need at the apex of your thighs slowly drenching the fabric between you both. You need no further enticing and pull his face down, crushing his lips against yours in an even more desperate, more hurried kiss than before.

The next few moments are a flurry of breathless moans and needy groans. Two sets of hands work on one another’s clothing, pushing and pulling and stripping until you’re both as bare as the day each of you were born. 

And then suddenly, Conrad’s inside you. That familiar stretch graces you once more, kindly blessing the ever-present ache that’s existed ever since you first laid eyes on him. Your back arches further, the heels of your feet dig into his hips and you both moan in unison as he sinks in, burying himself all the way to the hilt. 

It isn’t the first time he’d had you, nor will it be the last, but it had been almost three whole days. Too long, practically a lifetime considering how good it always is - but even so, his pace is slow and languid, like he’s savoring it. He’s not a man drowning in a river after almost dying of thirst, but a man who’s been waiting patiently for a reward most definitely well-earned. 

You can’t help the gasping laugh that escapes in a sudden rush of endorphins. Your heart lurches in your chest and your pupils dilate until there’s just a sliver of color left around them. This is a reward, yes, but it’s also more than that - it’s a gift. 

Conrad, a dedicated and well-trained soldier until the very end, doesn’t miss a beat even after you laugh again and your arms tighten around his neck. He merely nips at your jaw while a curious smirk tugs at his cheeks, his hips continuing so smooth and fluid in their undulating. 

“Something funny, dear?” 

You gasp again as he punctuates that final word by slipping a large hand underneath your skull, cradling it gently and tilting it upwards. It’s a stunning move, making you feel so safe and small while he makes love to you. Your eyelids flicker, and he follows suit as you let out yet another breathless laugh. 

“It’s Christmas…” you murmur, almost in a daze. You’re not even sure if the words are audible as a rush of light crashes over you. 

“Is it now?” Conrad grins, mistakenly taking your statement as one of pure praise instead of just a reflection of today’s date. He thrusts harder, and lets out a deep groan as your muscles tighten in response. 

You moan again and start to feel like you’re floating. Consistent breaths in and out are a thing of the past, but still, you manage a frenzied response. You want him to know the truth, to celebrate the special day with him.

“No - it’s…oh, God, fuck - the 25th! It’s the 25th…”

Conrad’s moaning along with you, drowning out any response in a sea of incoherence. His hips thrust deeper, the taut muscles of his back flexing and contracting in a quick rhythm underneath your hands. His forehead falls against yours, his gasps and exhales heavily washing over your cheeks and lips and nose. He’s starting to lose his mind, and the last thing you can see clearly are his eyes rolling back into his head. 

It’s so incredibly hot when he loses control, the shameless passion he openly shows to you and only you. It’s the complete opposite of the winter wonderland you were dreaming of earlier. But when your thighs start to shake, he changes the angle of his thrusts - and then all of a sudden, it finally feels like Christmas. 

Usually when you come, he makes you see stars, but not tonight. This time, you see Christmas lights - reds and whites and greens and blues all sparkling and dancing together in unison. The room instantaneously becomes a frigid, barren landscape and Conrad is the only warm thing left in existence, his fire crackling and popping against the deep and endless midnight sky. 

Keeping you safe inside the great big dark unknown. A guiding light towards the brighter days lingering ahead. 

You whimper as you come, from the sheer force of it, and Conrad tips right over the edge with you. His back arches to push himself deeper, his hips move frantically, pushing and pulling his cock over and over between your tight muscles like he just can’t help himself. 

And why shouldn’t he? He performed a Christmas miracle yesterday. 

It all feels like a dream, but eventually, Conrad’s hips slow, and he collapses on top of you. For a moment, neither of you can move, other than gasping for breath and whimpering with each uncontrollable twitch and spasm of every nerve and muscle. Slick skin marks both the mutual satisfaction and the need for another shower - and as long as you don’t pass out beforehand, this time you’d be honored to wash Conrad’s back for him. 

Recovery takes longer than usual. Maybe it’s the culmination of the previous few days, the heat, the date; maybe it’s the reflection of the past year as a whole, or the hopeful promises of what the next one might bring. But when Conrad adjusts, and then tightens, his arms around you, burying his face into the crook of your neck and taking in a deep breath, you know it’s all of the above.

You hug him tighter in return. You press your lips to his ear, his jaw, his hair. Anywhere you can reach, anything that’s him. He’s made your year an incredible one, and you were sure that the next one was going to be even better. 

Conrad lets out a deep, peaceful hum. One that reverberates deep into your heart and makes it skip a beat. He tilts his head and presses a deep, tender kiss to your cheek. 

“Is it really the 25th?” he murmurs softly. 

“Yeah, it is…” you laugh, turning your head and nuzzling your face against his. “Merry Christmas, Conrad…”

He chuckles and returns the sweet gesture, adding in a tender caress of your jaw. His eyes flicker up and then down your face, examining and completely mesmerized by everything he finds. Everything you feel about him, he returns tenfold, and it shows in every flicker of light in his eyes, mesmerizing and breathtaking.

“Merry Christmas, darling…”

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