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imaginespazzi · 10 days ago

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Our Merry Eternity

And she swears that every Christmas season, it feels like they fall deeper and deeper in love with each other.

(In which a writer would like to argue that a day after Christmas, is a perfectly reasonable time to release a Christmas fic)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Fluff, fluff, fluff with some hurt/comfort and angst if you squint

Words: 9.4K (if I could write things shorter maybe y'all would get things faster but alas)

TW: Implied sexual content/suggestive content, mentions of divorce, mentions of injuries, swearing

A/N: MERRY (one day after) CHRISTMAS MY LOVIES <3 It seems like everyone wanted domestic fluff and who am I to deny the people what they want (even if it is a little later than I intended it to be) and I didn't realize how much I missed eternity-verse till I wrote this. I'mma keep this short and sweet and go through the basics. Such as the fact that I did not edit. I eventually will but for now, feel free to let me know about any grammar/spelling/formatting issues. And even though I haven't had the time to go through my inbox in a hot second, I promise I will soon so as always, let me know what you liked, what you didn't and what you'd like to see in the future. Have a lovely rest of your holidays my angels <3

It’s beginning (to look a lot like Christmas)

Paige isn’t the biggest fan of Christmas; she doesn’t dislike it by any means but she’s never understood the fascination everyone else seems to have with it. Perhaps it’s because when she was younger, Christmas had been her parents’ favorite holiday to try and one-up each other. They’d competed in everything, from how big the tree was to how evenly spread the icing on the cookies were. Eventually the excitement of getting a big expensive present from one parent that would only be rivaled by an even bigger, more expensive present from the other wore off and all that was left was this hollow feeling of being torn in two. Her parents have matured now -no longer in a constant battle for her approval now that they had other kids to focus on as well- but the magic of Christmas had long worn off and Paige hadn’t bothered trying to rediscover it.

Until now.

Because right now, watching -through a facetime call that’s been running for almost four hours now- Azzi run around Walmart, searching for decorations and presents with her exasperated family in tow, almost feels a little magical. The way the younger girl’s eyes twinkle when she finds the perfect gift, the way her dimples deepen when she triumphantly wins an argument against her mother for an ornament her tree needs, makes Paige think that it would be so easy to fall in love with Christmas, if she got to spend it with Azzi.

And it’s like Azzi’s reading her mind because suddenly the younger girl’s face is filling all of Paige’s screen as she holds the phone close to her face, lips pouting in a way that has the blonde feelings decidedly unfriendly feelings toward a girl she’s barely known for six months, but feels like a best friend she’s known all her life.

“I wish we could spend Christmas together,” Azzi says with a slight whine, “and then you could help me with all of this. They’re absolutely no help-” her last sentence is cut off by her family and Paige laughs as the Fudds break out into a series of indignant protests.

“Oh so you just want me for manual labor or something huh?” Paige teases, leaning back against her bed and folding her arms across her chest, “and here I thought it’s cause you missed me.”

“I do miss you,” Azzi says matter-of-factly.

“Nah,” Paige shakes her head, “sounds like you just need another person to slave around for you.”

Azzi's mouth falls open at the accusation as the Fudds break into laughter behind her, the sound of it making something impossibly warm bloom in Paige’s chest.

“I do not make people slave around for me.”

“Yeah you do. You’re the princess. You order us around and we do as we’re told.”

“Here, here-ow!” Jon’s noise of agreement is cut off by his sister elbowing him in the stomach, “do all that work and get rewarded by violence too.”

“I tell you I miss you and this is how you repay me?” Azzi asks, her voice tinged with drama.

“Nah I still don’t believe you miss me,” it’s a lie; Paige is fully aware Azzi misses her -thinks that the younger girl has to feel at least a semblance of the emptiness she feels herself at the distance between them- but she likes making Azzi repeat it; likes the constant confirmation that Azzi misses her too.

“Of course I miss you P, after all,” Azzi’s eyes glint with mischief, “we’re engaged aren’t we? A girl’s gotta miss her fiancé.”

The cavalier use of the tone of endearment makes Paige freeze. It’s a joke; a callback to the fact that Paige had practically threatened Azzi that she’d have to marry her if the younger girl won their little pop-a-shot competition last summer at the Minnesota State fair. Paige hadn’t been thinking, it had just slipped out but then Azzi had won the game and then there were rings being exchanged and somehow the whole thing had become one big running joke between the two of them. Except, the idea of forever with Azzi doesn’t feel much like a joke to Paige. It feels like a wish, a hope, a want, a need something she’s not quite ready to admit to herself yet.

“I miss you too Az,” Paige says softly as they grin at each other through the phone, “can’t wait to see my best friend soon.”

Thirteen days to be exact -they’d planned to spend the last half of winter break together- but it’s not like Paige is crossing the days off of her calendar or anything.

“Fiancé,” Azzi corrects and Paige’s heart flutters despite her brain trying to remind her that this is just a bit they’re playing at.

“Right, so fiancé,” the word tastes like sugar cookies and marshmallows on the tip of her tongue, “you get my present yet?”

“You know I have and before you ask,” Azzi gives her a knowing look when Paige excitedly opens her mouth, “no I won’t give you a hint about what it is.”

“But Azziiiiiii-”

“Absolutely not Paige,” Azzi says firmly, “presents are meant to be surprises.”

“Aren’t fiancés meant to tell each other everything?” Paige scrunches her nose.

“Not this. Christmas presents are a sacred secret,” the younger girl replies gravely.

“And who made you an expert on all things Christmas presents?”

“Santa did,” Azzi retorts haughtily.

Paige snorts, “well Santa doesn’t ex-”

“PAIGE MADISON BUECKERS,” Azzi yells and the blonde can tell by the way she winces immediately that the younger girl’s little outburst had gotten her more than a couple of wary looks, “Paige Madison Bueckers,” she hisses again, her voice much quieter this time, “you take that back right now!”

“Az-”

“Take it back!”

“Bro you’re fifteen years old,” Paige argues.

“Believing has no age,” Azzi hums airily, “now take it back.”

“Nope!”

“Take it back or I’ll end our engagement,” Azzi threatens and Paige blanches at ultimatum.

“You wouldn’t,” she gasps.

“Try me.”

Paige is sixteen and she’s only really just started to learn what love is, but she thinks, as she sits on her bed bickering on facetime over the most ridiculous of topics with a girl who makes her feel things she’s never felt before, that maybe love is just something as simple and crazy as pretending admitting Santa is real so she can prevent her fake engagement, that’s almost beginning to feel a little much like a real promise, from being called off.

2. With you (under the mistletoe)

The truth is that neither of them quite remember what started the fight or even really why it had continued after. All they know is that one minute everything had been fine and then the next minute, they were fuming at each other and their plane ride back to the DMV for Christmas had passed in uncharacteristic silence. They'd parted ways at the airport -glumly sauntering over to their waiting families while decidedly avoiding looking over in each other’s directions- with a dreadful mixture of regret, guilt and the feeling of missing each other. But despite the fact that they were both clearly miserable, Paige and Azzi were both too stubborn and too eager to prove which one of them could be more stubborn. This was their first true fight after they’d gotten together earlier this year, and they were both adamant that the other one would apologize first.

But Azzi can feel the urge to cave in grow stronger and stronger by the minute as she feels Paige’s body against her own as the blonde reaches over the younger girl to grab something from the shelf. The contact is unnecessary and she knows Paige is doing it on purpose, trying to get a reaction and it takes every inch of self-control Azzi has to not shiver as the older girl presses herself against her back, acting like whatever she’s grabbing isn’t right at the front of the shelf. Azzi tries to focus on the cookies she’s icing, tries to keep her hands still as she traces the outline of a star in royal icing, tries to do anything but focus on the way Paige’s warm breath is tickling against the back of her neck.

It’s two days till Christmas and the Fudd family and friends have gathered to do their annual cookie baking and decorating tradition. And Katie had been clear that no matter what issues Paige and Azzi were having, they wouldn’t interfere with the open invitation that Paige had always had -since she’d moved to the DMV but even before that really- to join them throughout the Christmas festivities. Azzi had pretended to be a little miffed by it but secretly she’d been hoping that her girlfriend -god she still got such a thrill out of being able to call her that- would show up. They’d only really been apart for a day, but since they’d met, Paige and Azzi hadn’t gone often without talking to each other -whether it was in person or through text or on the phone- and so 24 hours had felt a little bit like 24 years and Azzi had spent every second missing the girl who’d long since become a part of her soul. And even though Paige had grunted about only being here for Drew’s sake, Azzi knows -by the way the blonde’s eyes had drunk in the sight of her when she’d let her into the house, by the way her stiff shoulders had relaxed just by being near her again- that Paige had missed her just as much.

But neither of them are quite ready to admit it yet, and so, as they bustle around the confined space of the Fudd’s kitchen, Paige continues to find ways to light Azzi’s skin on fire and Azzi continues to pretend it isn’t making her burn with want.

“Noooooooo,” a drawled out whine from the kitchen table has Azzi and Paige jumping away from each other as they both turn to look at Drew.

Azzi’s eyes widen and Paige bursts into laughter as they take in the scene in front of them. Clearly the little boy had overestimated his strength and the piping bag had burst and now Drew stands by the table, his lips slightly parted in shock, as the red icing -originally intended for the Santa hat cookies- drips down the front of his shirt. Jon and José are doubled down in their chairs, tears practically streaming down their faces as the sound of their laughter echoes through the walls.

“Oh my god,” Paige manages to get out between her giggles, “what did you do Drewskie.”

“Nothing,” her little brother immediately defends himself, “it literally burst out of nowhere.”

“Sure it did little Hulk, sure it did,” José teases as he swipes his finger over Drew’s ruined shirt and then licks the icing off of it, the casualness of it causing Jon and Paige to burst into another round of laughter while Azzi tries as hard as she can to keep her own giggles contained but a smile slips through the cracks.

“It’s not funny,” Drew stomps his feet petulantly, “I’m all sticky and icky and gross. Azzi,” he looks at the brunette with imploring eyes, “tell them to stop- OH MY GOD ARE YOU LAUGHING AT ME TOO.”

Azzi's eyes widen as she tries to protest, “no of course not. C’mon let’s get you a new-”

But before she can put her plan into action, clearly Drew has a different idea and before Azzi can stop it from happening, the little boy is grabbing another piping bag -this one with green icing- and aiming it straight at Jose. There’s a split second of silence as the green icing arcs through the air, almost in slow motion, before landing with a splat on Jose’s newly bought t-shirt. And then the room bursts into chaos as Drew immediately dives behind Azzi’s legs, Paige and Jon continue to lose their minds laughing and José lets out a loud scream.

“WHAT THE FU-”

“José language,” both Paige and Azzi reprimand immediately and José glares at them but corrects himself anyways.

“What the fudge dude,” José scowls at Drew, “this is a brand new shirt.”

For his part, the little boy shrugs, “I thought you liked eating icing off of shirts. I figured I’d make it easier and let you eat it off of your own shirt.

If it’s possible this somehow makes Jon and Paige laugh harder and instead of focusing his wrath on Drew who’s still nestled behind Azzi’s legs, José turns on the two of them instead.

“You guys think this is SO funny don’t you,” he says menacingly, grabbing for two more piping bags.

“José no,” Paige is the first one to recover as she tries to turn away from the mess but it’s too late, and just as she’s trying to bolt out the door, she’s stopped by a glob of pink icing landing with a splat on the back of her plain white shirt.

“Oh you’re so dead,” Paige whispers angrily as she turns around, grabbing another bag of icing and aiming it directly at José’s face.

And then there’s no stopping anyone as Azzi watches as all the beautiful icing she’d painstakingly made and dyed into different colors begins to be thrown all over the kitchen, a rainbow painting itself all over the walls and floors. Drew darts out from behind her legs, joining into the mayhem as he starts to pelt Jon with all sorts of colors.

Seeing them all distracted and knowing it’s only a matter of time before she gets sucked into all of it, Azzi slowly tiptoes backwards, wanting nothing to do with the mess, and she’s just about to turn around and run up the stairs when a low voice echoes behind her.

“And where do you think you’re going,” because of course Paige had noticed her trying to escape; Paige always noticed when it came to Azzi.

“Paige,” Azzi warns slowly, trying to move away from the other girl, her eyes fixated on the purple icing in the blonde’s hands, “please.”

Paige smirks as she takes another step towards Azzi, “this is a little unfair isn’t it?”

“Hey I didn’t start any of this,” Azzi puts her hands up in surrender, choosing to back away from the stairs and towards the living room instead, “go fight the people who did.”

Paige shakes her head as she takes another step, “I already got ‘em all. Amateurs,” she says cockily, “they think they can beat me in a food fight.”

Azzi rolls her eyes, “is there anything you’re not arrogant about?”

“Can’t help that I’m good at everything,” Paige shrugs and Azzi’s about to come up with a snarky retort when the blonde’s eyes soften, “except I guess- I guess I’m not too great at apologizing.”

Gone is the air of overconfidence that had surrounded the older girl just a second before and in her place is that soft, vulnerable Paige that Azzi is so desperately in love with and she can’t help but take a step towards the blonde.

“We should both probably apologize huh,” she says quietly, “think we both said some petty shit we didn’t mean.”

It’s true; they’d known each other so long and so deeply that they knew exactly how to push each other’s buttons, how to say the exact wrong thing to rile each other up when they were frustrated. The fight had been inevitable; an explosion of all the angst that existed between two athletes who were both fighting injuries and watching their team struggle without them. It had started with something little that Azzi can’t quite remember but then they were yelling about other things -Paige’s grievances about how Azzi had an irritating habit of hovering and Azzi’s issues with Paige’s tendency to close herself off- and it had ended with both of them near tears as they’d frustratedly stomped into their rooms.

“I’m sorry,” Paige says it first, as she loops her arm around Azzi’s waist, bringing the younger girl as close to her as she can, “I love you. I miss you.”

Azzi smiles, her hands finding their rightful place around Paige’s neck, not caring that the other girl is still covered in sticky icing, “don’t gotta miss me baby. I’m right here,” she says softly, resting her forehead against the blonde’s, “I’m sorry too. I love you so much.”

“Look up,” Paige says softly, as she strokes Azzi’s cheek and the younger girl does as she’s told, laughing when she notices the mistletoe hanging above them.

“Kissing under the mistletoe? You’re so cliché Bueckers.”

“Clichés are clichés for a reason Az,” Paige hums faintly before she’s pulling Azzi into a searing kiss, holding her as tightly as she physically can.

And yet Azzi still finds a way to tug her closer, trying to find a way to meld their bodies into one as she presses herself as close to Paige as possible. She’s just about to suggest they take this upstairs -because god has she missed being with Paige- when instead she feels the older girl pull away and before she can even react, she’s being hit in the face with a stream of bright purple icing.

“PAIGE WHAT THE FUCK,”

“Sorry baby. Just couldn’t help myself,” Paige grins as she steps back into Azzi’s space, gently attaching her lips to Azzi’s cheeks as her tongue languidly licks away at the icing and this time the younger girl doesn’t even try to hide the way her body reacts to it, “I promise I’ll clean you up though.”

3. I’ll be home (for Christmas)

“I’m good I swear,” Azzi’s voice is raw and hoarse like it often gets when she’s been crying and despite the younger girl’s best efforts to put on a brave front, Paige can hear right through it.

She cocks an eyebrow, shifting from her back onto her elbows and placing her phone -with the facetime call- against the headboard, “then why won’t you let me see your face?”

“It’s not me. Something’s up with my camera. I don’t know what,” and if it was anyone else, even someone else who also knew that Azzi had literally just gotten a new phone, maybe the attempted sincerity in the brunette’s voice would be enough to convince them that she was telling the truth.

But Paige has every line of the Azzi Fudd façade memorized, knows exactly how to discern the little cadences in her girlfriend’s voice and read between the lines. She knows Azzi’s purposely refusing to show her face; knows that it’s probably because it would take Paige one glance at said beautiful, gorgeous, stunning face to know that there had been tears running down it just a little bit ago.

The blonde sighs, choosing to let the lie go and instead focus on the precious few minutes she’s got to speak to her girlfriend in peace. This is the first time Paige and Azzi have truly been apart for an extended amount of time since the latter had gotten to UConn and somehow the past few weeks have felt worse than when they’d spent months and months apart. With Paige trying to lead an injury-riddled team and Azzi rehabbing another torn ACL, the opportunities to indulge in a proper facetimes call had been few and far between. And when they did finally find the team, it wasn’t just that they were physically tired; they were both emotionally drained too. It was hard recharging when their batteries -each other- were so far away and every call felt hollow; like something was missing.

“I miss you,” Paige says finally, feet digging into her bed as she musters up a soft smile, wishing that she could see Azzi return it with one of her own instead of staring at a black screen with only her own face in the corner.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” the younger girl says lightly and something uncomfortable churns in Paige’s stomach.

“You uh- you haven’t said it back in a while,” she says slowly, trying to keep her voice casual.

“Said what?”

Paige gulps, “that you miss me,” she gives Azzi a second to respond before her nerves have her speaking a mile per minute, “I mean not that you- not that you have to say it back or anything it’s just- you usually do- or like you always did and you just- you just haven’t said it back. And I mean I don’t say I miss you just so you’ll say it back or anything. I mean I do- you know- miss you and so that why I say it- because- because I miss you- I miss you so fucking much baby and I just- I just want you to know that but you haven’t- you haven’t said it back in a little bit and I just- Azzi,” her voice cracks as she tries not to let the tears slip through, “you do miss me don’t you?”

The other girl is quiet for so long that Paige thinks maybe she’s said too much; her mind rushes to the worst possibilities because what if Azzi really doesn’t miss her? What if her insecurities are right and the time apart has made Azzi realize that she wants something other than Paige?

“Of course I miss you Paige,” Azzi’s voice is thick with tears and all of Paige’s previous fears are replaced with worry instead, “god baby I miss you so fucking much. I miss you all the time and I’m sorry, fuck Paige, I’m sorry if I ever made you think I didn’t but baby- I-,” she’s heaving through her tears and Paige wishes she was with her; wishes she could wipe away her tears and hold her forever.

“Azzi-”

“I haven’t been saying it back because- because-” Azzi pushes on, still struggling to speak but determined to say her piece, “I can’t okay? I can’t keep saying it Paige- I can’t keep telling you I miss you and hearing that you miss me when we can’t do anything about it. And I get it- okay- I get it. I get that you have to be with the team and I have to be here and do my rehab and we can’t- we can’t be together right but fuck- I hate it. I hate it so much.”

“Azzi,” Paige says again helplessly.

She hates it too; hates that it’s so close to Christmas, so close to Azzi’s favorite holiday and her girlfriend is sobbing.

“Shit. I’m being a terrible girlfriend aren’t I? You have a game in a couple of hours and here I am being a fucking selfish wet wipe instead of wishing you luck. Fucking hell,” Azzi curses and Paige can picture her frantically pulling herself together as she tries to change her tone.

“You could never be a terrible girlfriend,” Paige reassures softly.

Azzi ignores her, “besides, we’ll see each other soon right? You’re gonna fly home from Toronto to Connecticut tomorrow and then come home to me after right? Just a couple more days,” and it sounds like she’s saying it more to herself than Paige, “just a few more days- few more hours really. We can do this.”

“Yeah,” Paige agrees but she can’t help but feel like even that’s too long and there’s a plan starting to form in her mind; a good use of all that NIL money she’s been earning.

“I love you P,” Azzi says softly, and despite the heaviness from before, Paige can hear the smile in her voice, “see you soon baby.”

“I love you too Az. I’ll be home soon,” Paige replies, a large grin settling onto her face as she gets ready to bring her idea to fruition; knowing that for now, their soons don’t quite mean the same thing.

***

Azzi thinks her parents and brother must have the patience of a saint. She’s acutely aware that she’s been a miserable grinch to be around; either ignoring them or answering them with tight one-word sentences. Since she’d come down to Virginia for her rehab, she’s kept herself holed down in her room, only coming out when absolutely necessary. The worst part of it, is that it’s her favorite time of the year and Azzi’s barely participated in all the little Christmas traditions -half of which had really been created by her- that she’d normally be excited to indulge in.

She sighs, burrowing herself further into her pillows to block out the chatter of her family upstairs. In a couple of minutes, she’s sure one of them will come rushing downstairs, pleading for her to come join them as they make Christmas themed pancakes. And she’ll refuse -just as she has with every other fun little activity- and all though whoever’s been tasked with getting her out of her cave will persist a little longer, eventually they’ll give up, that awful look, tinged in both disappointment and pity, on their face as they go back upstairs with a promise to bring her a plate in a little bit. It’s a terrible routine that’s been on rinse and repeat and Azzi thinks she’d really like to break herself out of it, but it feels like she’s drowning in it instead, and there’s not a lifeboat in sight to pull her out of her misery.

Turning on her side, Azzi reaches for her phone, flipping to Paige’s contact and her heart aches from their last conversation last night. God she’d been so selfish, venting like that knowing her girlfriend had a game in a couple of hours; knowing how stressful each game -no matter how easy the opponent- was with an injury-riddled team. But Paige had sounded so miserable when asking if Azzi still missed her that in a way it had been infectious and suddenly Azzi found herself letting her own hurt waterfall out of her lips.

She scrunches her nose, eyebrows crinkling in confusion when she realizes that the last text she’d sent Paige before going to sleep -a simple you did really good today baby, i’m proud of you right after the game- had gone unanswered. Azzi frowns, looking down at her phone as if her staring harder at it might just conjure up a message from her girlfriend. She’d fallen asleep almost right after sending it and it was unlike Paige to not have answered her by the time she woke up. Azzi rattles her brain, trying to remember if the blonde had mentioned any other plans -beyond a dinner with Aaliyah’s parents that wouldn’t have kept her from her phone- but she can’t remember anything. Briefly glancing at the time and knowing that Paige’s flight to Connectcut wasn’t supposed to leave for at least another three hours, Azzi hastily texts her girlfriend again, crossing her fingers behind her back in anticipation of a quick reply.

Good morning Paigey <3

She gives it exactly three minutes, stomach churning when she doesn’t get a reply.

I miss you baby.

Another four minutes and still no reply and Azzi starts to feel her head getting heavy with that familiar weight of over thinking. What if she’d overstepped last night? What if it was too much? What if Paige had decided that she couldn’t deal with Azzi and her crap anymore?

She can hear someone starting to hurry down the steps, the quickness making her think it’s probably one of her brother’s who’s been tasked with getting her out of her room this time. But Azzi keeps her focus on her phone, ready to reject whatever offer is about to be made. The door creaks open and she doesn’t look up, typing another message instead.

I love you Paige.

“I love you too Azzi.”

Azzi freezes at the sound of the oh so familiar voice, her gaze moving from her phone to the doorway in slow-motion. She blinks in disbelief, mouth falling open as she stares at the figure in her doorway, taking in the sight of a disheveled blonde ponytail, the custom UConn sweats draped on a body that’s radiating exhaustion but more than anything her eyes fixates on that smile, the one that’s always been just for her.

“Paige,” she breathes out slowly, almost as if she’s scared that saying it will make the girl in front of her disappear like a dream.

“Hi baby,” Paige says softly, casually pointing to her phone, “I got your message.”

“You’re here,” Azzi chokes out and then, louder, “you’re here oh my god, you’re really here,” she repeats, rushing to get out of bed, desperate to wrap her arms around Paige, to hold her and be held in return.

“Hey, hey, hey wait baby careful,” Paige chides, her focus immediately on Azzi’s knee, “stay where you are-”

“What? Why?” Azzi pouts and that elicits a little laugh from Paige as she walks over to the brunette.

“Because,” the older girl says quietly, as she crawls onto the bed and pulls Azzi onto her lap so the younger girl is straddling Paige’s hips, “I’m here.”

Azzi looks at her in awe, hand tracing the curves of Paige’s face like she still can’t quite believe this is real, “yeah,” she whispers, “you’re here.”

And then she’s kissing every inch of Paige’s skin that she can, memorizing the way it feels soft and smooth under her lips, trying to make up for all the lost time of the past few weeks and perhaps even for when she knows they’ll inevitably have to be separated again. Paige’s grip on her waist is tight, fingers gripping her like they’re scared to let go as she shivers under Azzi’s featherlight touch.

“I’m here,” Paige repeats again before she guides Azzi’s lips onto her own into a feverish kiss that has both of them letting out a long-kept sigh of relief.

It starts off innocent enough, the two of them savoring the moment, savoring the feeling of finally being in each other’s arms. But then Paige’s tongue is licking into Azzi’s mouth and the younger girl is grinding her hips in the way she knows will drive the blonde a little insane as Paige’s own hands find themselves roaming underneath Azzi’s pajama shirt, rubbing circles dangerously close to the edge of her sleep shorts.

“Missed you- missed you so fucking much,” Azzi babbles as Paige’s mouth moves away from her lips to trail a series of kisses down her jaw, to her neck before nipping at her collarbone.

“Me too- me fucking too,” Paige mutters between kisses as she soothes her tongue over the mark she’d just tattooed into Azzi’s skin with her teeth, eyes glazing over when it elicits a barely-concealed moan from the brunette’s lips.

“Missed this,” Azzi groans, continuing to roll her body against Paige’s, and she thinks she could fall off the edge just like this, untouched and fully clothed.

“I know, baby. I know,” Paige pants as she continues her assault on the young girl’s skin, “gonna take care of you. I swear. Gonna make up for everything tonight-”

“No now,” Azzi whines, hands tangling in Paige’s hair and pulling in a way that has the older girl groaning into the crook of her neck, “I need you now. I’ll be quiet, I swear. Paige please.”

“Fuck baby don’t say that. You know I can’t say no to you.”

“Then don’t say no to me,” Azzi responds with a smirk, one hand trailing down to gently flick against Paige’s nipples causing the blonde to let out a conflicted noise somewhere between pure arousal and reluctant protest.

“I can’t,” she says finally, resting her head against Azzi’s shoulder as she purposefully grips the younger girl’s waist to keep her still.

Azzi pouts, “why not?”

When Paige finally looks up at her, there’s a sheepish look on her face, “I made a bet with your brothers.”

“What?”

“They said they hadn’t been able to get you out of your room and I said I could do it in ten minutes and they said it would take me a lot longer,” Paige says, hands moving animatedly and Azzi can’t help the fond smile that flitters onto her face.

“So let me get this straight,” she says slowly, “we haven’t seen each other in weeks, haven’t fucked,” she purposefully grinds her hips down onto the other girl, “in weeks and you wanna delay it longer because you wanna win a bet against my brothers?”

Paige has the decency to look at least a little ashamed as she nods before giving Azzi a goofy grin, “yes? I love you?”

Azzi rolls her eyes as she slips off of Paige’s lap, already missing the warmth of being on top of the other girl, “can’t believe you’d rather win a bet than fuck me.”

“Nah,” Paige smirks as she stands up, her hands immediately inching themselves around Azzi’s waist, “I’d rather win a bet, use that money to get us a hotel tonight and then fuck you.”

“You’ve really thought this through haven’t you?” Azzi shakes her head, trying to hide her excitement at the idea of being in a hotel room -being alone, just the two of them- with Paige tonight.

“Ten steps ahead always baby,” Paige grins as she presses her lips against Azzi’s, ending it quicker than either of them would like, “now hurry up so I can win this bet.”

But Azzi doesn’t move, instead she pulls Paige back into her, resting their foreheads together as she breathes in the scent of her girlfriend.

“I’m really glad you’re home P,” she whispers and Paige smiles, gently rubbing her back, “didn’t feel like Christmas season without you.”

4. You’re all I need (underneath the tree)

Azzi’s just putting on the finishing touches to her outfit -dangly gold hoops that Paige had gotten her just because- when she feels a pair of arms wrap around her middle, a warm body being pressed against her chest. She smiles, letting herself melt into her wife’s -God she loves being able to say that- touch, leaning her head back against Paige’s shoulder.

“You look so pretty in that dress,” the older woman whispers into her ear as she runs her hands up and down the velvety red material covering Azzi’s body, “but you sure we have to go to your parents’ right now? Cause I think you’d look even better out of it.”

Azzi giggles; they’ve been together for almost nine years -known each other for even longer- and yet every time Paige gives her a compliment, she feels her insides swooning, cheeks going red like she’s still a teenager whose crush is flirting with her. And she thinks this feeling will never go away, that the halo-like glow Paige’s mere presence casts around her will never fade because this love -this all-consuming sense of you’re it for me between them- is going to last forever. She’s sure of it.

“Do you ever think of anything but sex?” Azzi rolls her eyes as she turns around in Paige’s arms, fingers immediately reaching up to fix the collar of Paige’s matching red shirt.

Paige grins, “nah cause I’m always thinking about you and so by default I’m always thinking about sex.”

“You’re insatiable,” Azzi shakes her head.

“Can you blame me when my wife looks like that?” Paige makes a show of looking up and down Azzi’s body, letting out a low appreciative whistle at the way the dress hugs her figure, the neckline dipping just low enough to stay respectable yet sexy.

“You look pretty good yourself Bueckers,” Azzi hums as she grazes her teeth lightly against Paige’s neck, making the older woman shudder.

“Careful Az,” Paige warns, the sultry lilt in her voice saying the exact opposite, “I might start getting the wrong idea.”

Azzi shrugs cheekily, “and what idea would that be?”

Paige smirks, gently tugging at Azzi’s dress to expose a shoulder before she’s attaching her lips to the newly uncovered patch of skin, “that maybe you want us to be late. Or better yet, maybe you don’t want us to go at all.”

Keening under the softness of Paige’s touch, Azzi reluctantly pushes the older woman away, and that might be worse because now she can see her eyes and the lust swimming in them makes her want to give into temptation. But they’re already running late and she has no desire to give their brother’s any teasing material, so she settles on stealing another kiss from Paige’s lips.

“Go warm up the car,” she mutters against the blonde’s lips, gently squeezing her waist before she detaches from Paige and starts to fix her dress, “I’mma just do a quick double check and then be out.”

“Yes your highness,” Paige teases with a slight roll of her eyes before she’s grabbing both her and Azzi’s packed overnight bags and heading towards the car.

Azzi smiles as she watches her go. As much as they joked about not going at all, both of them loved spending Christmas with their families, especially considering how the Fudds, Bueckers and everything in between had melded into one big one. Despite the fact that living in the DMV now meant that they saw at least someone in their family once a week, the idea of having everyone under the same roof was still thrilling nonetheless.

Life had a funny way of working out. The plan had been set in motion since Azzi had been drafted to DC and although Paige had been tempted to stay in Minnesota -after all being the hometown hero picked with the no.1 pick had served her and the. team well for her first four rookie years, considering she’d helped them return to their former championship glory- they had ultimately decided that with most of their family in the DMV area, it made more sense for Paige to ask for a trade to DC than it did for Azzi to move to Minnesota. It hadn’t been the smoothest transition -they’d had their fair share of fights while making the decision and then adjusting to it- but they’d figure it out. They always did. Because as good as Paige and Azzi were at fighting with each other, they were even better at fighting for each other.

Quickly going through the to-do-list in her brain, Azzi nods to herself as she silently checks off everything. She does a quick glance of her room, making sure that they’re not leaving anything they’d need, before reaching to grab her phone, just to text her parents that they were on their own way. Instead her eyes catch on an email notification, her heart beating erratically when she reads the name of the sender.

Fingers fidgeting with the heart necklace Paige had gotten her years ago, Azzi slowly clicks on the notification as anticipation burns throughout her whole body. She tries to steady her breathing as she scans through it, reading each line carefully and she almost drops her phone, large hot tears dripping down her cheeks as she reaches the end of it. Her chest feels heavy with an unknown feeling and she knows she needs to get to Paige, but her feet are rooted to their spot.

“Baby,” she hears her wife call out, followed by the sound of Paige’s footsteps climbing up the stairs, “you ready yet? The car’s already- oh my god baby what’s wrong?”

Azzi looks up from her phone to find Paige standing in the doorway. Concern floods the older woman’s sharp features as she rushes over to her, hands running all over Azzi’s body as she tries to figure out what’s wrong.

“Az? Baby? What’s going on? What happened,” Paige asks urgently, “baby please you’re scaring me. What’s wrong,” her eyes drop to the phone in Azzi’s hands as her voice gets desperate, “did someone say something? Do I need to go kill somebody? Fuck baby please don’t cry. Tell me what’s wrong? I swear I’ll fix it but you gotta tell me baby. Please.”

Wordlessly, Azzi hands over her phone. Paige’s expression is confused and apprehensive -maybe even a little preemptively angry- as she takes the device from her wife’s hand. Azzi watches as recognition dawn of the blonde’s face when she spots the familiar e-mail address; watches as her wife goes through the same emotions she had reading through the email. When Paige finally looks back at her, her own eyes are brimming with tears.

“Baby,” she says breathlessly, “this- I- we-,” she chokes back a sob, her voice so quiet in comparison to the loud enigma that is Paige Bueckers-Fudd, “we’re gonna be Moms?”

Azzi nods, tears continuing to spill down her cheeks as she finally manages to open her mouth, “yeah- yeah we are. Paige, we’re gonna have a baby. No two,” she corrects herself, remembering the exact words of the e-mail, “we’re gonna have two babies. Twins.”

And it’s unclear who moves first -it doesn’t really matter- but then they’re in each other’s arms, trying to hold each other as tightly as physically possible as their tears and smiles begin to blend into one. It had been a couple of months since they’d started the adoption process and they’d gone through every stage, slightly scared that something would go wrong. But they’d passed every background and family and personality check rather easily and it was this last part, the wait to hear about a child -well children- that needed them that had been the hardest of it. And now here it was, the last brushstroke that would complete the picture they’d started painting when they were fifteen. Two babies that would complete them.

“You’re gonna be such a good Mom,” Paige mutters against Azzi’s hair, “god Azzi, baby I can’t wait to see you with our babies -fuck- our babies. Fuck baby I don’t know what you got me but I’m afraid it’s gonna have to be second best Christmas present I’m getting this year.

Azzi laughs breathlessly, her face still buried in Paige’s neck, “think it’s gonna be the best Christmas present ever,” she slowly lifts her head so she can brush away the tears from under her wife’s eyes, “I love you. I wouldn’t wanna do this with anyone but you.”

Paige presses her lips against Azzi’s forehead, “me too baby. I love you so fucking much. You, me and our babies. It’s all I’m ever gonna want, all I’m ever gonna need.”

5. All I want (for Christmas is you)

There’s a lot going on in her house right now -the chatter of family and friends mingling with the sounds of Christmas Carols blaring from the speakers, the mixed aroma of a well-cooked meal and freshly baked desserts, the twinkly lights strung all around the house blinking in different colors- but Paige’s entire attention is across the room where both of her two children are hanging off of her wife like baubles on a Christmas tree. Miles is situated on her lap, his head buried in his favorite place, between Azzi’s neck and shoulder. Sienna, always slightly more independent, has one hand wrapped around her mother’s ankle while she sits on the floor, her focus squarely on a princess coloring book. It’s a sight that will never stop making Paige’s heart swell with pride and happiness, her wife with their kids.

Slowly excusing herself from the conversation she’d been having with a relative, Paige makes her way over to her family -to her whole world- with a soft smile on her face. She sits down next to her wife, placing a kiss to her temple that makes Azzi smile, before pressing one to her son’s forehead over the younger woman’s shoulder, before finally picking her daughter off the floor onto her lap and giving Sienna a kiss on her cheek.

“Hi family,” she whispers and she thinks that if she could choose to have one picture ingrained in her mind forever, it would be a picture of the three smiles she gets in return. Miles’s is sleepy yet so sincere, Sienna’s is toothy and wide and Azzi’s- we’ll Azzi’s is exactly like it’s been since they were fifteen. It’s her Paige smile, one that is bright and beautiful and magnificent and filled with the promise of i’ll love you forever.

“Mama look,” Sienna coos, shoving her picture in front of Paige’s face, “I color a p-incess.”

“It’s beautiful Si-Si,” Paige says warmly, “I think it should probably go on the fridge once everybody’s gone home yeah?”

Azzi snorts, her voice dropping so only her wife can hear, “baby, I don’t think there’s any more space left on the fridge considering you’ve been putting up every single thing they’ve ever colored or made.”

“I’ll make space,” Paige says haughtily, “everything they make is fridge-worthy.”

Azzi shakes her head fondly but Paige knows that despite her words, she’ll be right there by her side tonight to help her make space on their rather cluttered fridge so that they could hang Sienna’s new masterpiece somewhere on it.

“Mi’s close to falling asleep,” Azzi gestures to the little boy in her arms who’s clearly struggling to keep his eyes open, “I think we should probably let them open their Christmas Eve presents now.”

Despite Azzi trying to keep her tone to a whisper, Sienna’s ears perk up at the word “present” and she turns on Paige’s lap to face her Moms with large, hopeful eyes, “it’s pwesent time?”

“Yeah sweetheart. It's present time, but only one okay?” Paige taps Sienna’s nose gently, laughing when the little girl nods diligently and then squeals with excitement, rushing off of her mother’s lap so she can tell anyone within earshot that it’s time to open presents.

“I was gonna tell you to get everybody but I think she’s got it. She’s got your vocal chords for sure,” Azzi nudges Paige’s shoulder teasingly before coaxing Miles’ head out her neck, “you ready to open a present Mi?”

Miles yawns and Paige can’t help but coo at how cute he looks as he stretches in his mother’s arms. It fascinates her, how despite being twins, Miles and Sienna sometimes feel like they’re years apart. And she knows they're only 3 years old, and she knows that they’ll both change over time but Paige thinks that the difference in their personalities makes them fit together even more beautifully. Sienna had a protective streak, always ready to shield her demure brother and Miles had a knack from calming Sienna down, always ready to comfort his boisterous sister.

“MI,” Sienna yells as she tugs on her twin brother’s arm, having somehow already gathered their family into the living room, “wake up Mi. Time to open a Ch-istmas Eve pwesent.”

“I coming Si-Si,” Miles says softly as he finally waddles off of Azzi’s lap, tiredly rubbing his eyes as he follows his sister towards the barrage of Christmas presents underneath the tree. Their mothers scooch off of the couch to stand closer to the tree, Paige wrapping her arms around Azzi from behind as she hooks her chin over her wife’s shoulder.

“Alright Si-Si,” Tim says, his eyes twinkling as he looks down at his granddaughter, “remember, you should always pick the biggest present to open on Christmas Eve!”

Sienna’s eyes widen as she takes in her grandfather’s words before her gaze drifts towards the presents, scouting for the biggest one of them all. Paige drinks in the joy on her daughter’s face when she finally spots a large box that might just be taller than she is.

“That one!” Sienna says gleefully as she practically climbs over the rest of the gifts to get to her chosen one.

“Careful sweetheart,” Azzi calls out, her voice laced with hints of worry as she watches her daughter try to pick up the present that’s clearly heavier than she is.

“Uncle Drew,” Sienna croaks out, turning to Paige’s brother as she realizes just how big the present she’d chosen is, “help me pease!”

Drew laughs, wading through the sea of presents to get to his niece as he sedulously sits down to help her unwrap the gift. Paige tightens her grip around Azzi in anticipation as she watches for her daughter’s reaction. The twins are old enough this year to really understand their gifts and even though Paige is sure she knows them well enough -they’re her babies for fuck’s sake- to have gotten them present they’d love, she’s still a little scared they wouldn’t.

“Relax baby,” Azzi leans her head back to whisper into the blonde’s ear, having noticed the way Paige is fidgeting with the sleeve of the brunette’s sweater, “she’s gonna love it. She’s our daughter. We know her.”

Paige presses a delicate kiss against the back of her wife’s neck, “you always say the right thing.”

“Because I know you,” Azzi says softly, eyes crinkling in the corner as she smiles at Paige.

They’re broken out of their reverie by their daughter screaming in excitement as she finally uncovers her present -a barbie basketball court-, and just like Azzi had predicted she would, she says, “I love it, I love it, I love it. Thank you Mama, thank you Mommy!”

Paige and Azzi laugh, opening their arms in tandem for Sienna to rush into, “we’re glad you like it Si-Si.”

“I love it,” Sienna corrects as she gives each of them a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

“My turn now?” a meek voice cuts in and everyone's eyes fall onto Miles, who cowers slightly at having everyone’s attention.

“Yeah it is,” Paige grins at her son, tickling him lightly in the stomach before pushing him towards the presents, “pick whichever one you want to open Mi.”

Miles chews at his bottom lip, cautiously observing the huge pile of presents before turning to his Mothers’ with a way expression and Paige has to hide her grin, knowing exactly what he’s about to ask.

“Too many,” Miles says, bouncing nervously on his tiny little feet, “you help me pick pease Mama.”

Paige laughs as she gathers the little boy in her arms but not before she’s whispering in Azzi’s ear, “think he might be more indecisive than you baby,” which earns her a slight elbow to the stomach before she nods at her son, “of course I’ll help you pick sweetheart.”

She pretends to make a big show of searching for the right present, observing her son’s facial expression before she sees his eyes light up a little when she grabs a medium-sized blue one.

“Aha!” Paige yells triumphantly, causing all the adults in the room to snicker at her antiques, “think you should open this one Mi.”

Miles grins as he makes grabby hands towards the present in his mother’s hand. It takes him approximately four and a half seconds to rip off all the wrapping paper and his eyes marvel at the gift in his hands.

“Teddy,” Miles says in awe as he clutches the cuddly stuffed toy to his chest.

“Yeah it is baby,” Azzi nods as she kneels down next to the little boy, “here,” she points towards the blue heart on his chest, “how about you squeeze it?”

Miles does as he is told, squeezing the teddy-bear’s heart as tightly as he can and it starts to glow. Paige and Azzi’s voices ring out through the room, singing -slightly off-key- Miles’s favorite lullaby. The little boy’s eyes widen when he realizes the sound isn’t coming from his Mothers', both of whom have their mouths closed, but from the teddy-bear’s heart.

“Now, whenever you’re scared at night in your big boy bed, you can just squeeze teddy and it’ll be like Mommy and Mama are already there with you,” Azzi says softly as she brushes her hands through her son’s hair, “you like it Mi?”

“I’m gonna call it MoMa,” Miles says in lieu of an answer as he beams up at Paige and Azzi, “like Mommy and Mama but MoMa.”

Paige laughs, her eyes suddenly starting to feel a little wet, as she wraps an arm around Azzi’s waist, watching her children fawn over the presents they’d just opened. There’s plenty more left and she’s excited to watch their reaction to opening the others but the first ones are always just a little more special. And whether it was giving Sienna a basketball court, or giving Miles a version of their voices, through these gifts they’d tried to give their children a part of themselves.

“Hey,” Azzi snaps Paige out of her trance, her hand reaching down to intertwine with Paige’s as she begins to pull her away from their family, “come with me for a second.”

“Azzi Fudd,” Paige puts a dramatic hand to her chest, smirking as she follows her wife upstairs, “are you sneaking me into our bedroom to have a quickie? While our family and our children are right downstairs?”

Azzi turns to her with a cheeky grin as they enter their bedroom, tracing a finger down Paige’s arm, “would you object if I was?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely not. Let’s do it,” Paige waggles her eyebrows, pulling Azzi into her chest but the younger woman immediately shrugs herself out of it as she goes into their closet instead, “oh okay then, leave me high and dry on fucking Christmas Eve.”

“Shut up,” Azzi chides, still rummaging through drawers before she finally emerges from the mahogany doors with a small silver box, walking back to Paige with a small smile on her face, “I figured you should get to open a present tonight too.”

“Well the present I was hoping to unwrap was you-” her joke is cut off by Azzi laughing.

“Baby please, you are way too old to be saying that shit.”

“Hey,” Paige says with mock offense, “first of all, I’m not that old and second of all, you’re never too old to be flirting with your wife.”

“First of all, it’s okay that you’re old baby, I like them a little older,” Azzi smirks, “and second of all, you are if the flirting's that corny and third of all,” she gives Paige a pointed look when the other woman open her mouth to counter, “shut up and open your present.”

“Still so bossy aren’t you princess?” Paige shakes her head but she does as she told, delicately removing the lid from the box and gasping when she sees the necklace inside, “baby, it’s beautiful.”

The necklace is similar to the engagement ring she’d gotten for Azzi, not the one from the fair all those years ago, but the real one. It’s a simple enough chain with a heart shaped diamond-encrusted locket, except on either side of the heart, the chain is looped into two infinity symbols.

“Open it,” Azzi says softly.

“What?” Paige asks, still staring dazedly at the dainty jewelry in her hands.

“The heart,” Azzi points to the locket, “it opens.”

Paige does as she’s told, delicately using her nails to pull apart the locket and a fresh set of tears brim in her eyes when she sees what’s inside. On one side of the heart is a picture of Miles and Sienna, the twins grinning at the camera and Paige remembers the exact moment she’d taken it. On the other side, is a picture of Paige and Azzi; specifically a picture of their kiss at their wedding.

“Baby,” Paige says again, uncannily lost for words.

“You’re really fucking hard to shop for you know that?” Azzi says slowly, her own eyes glistening with moisture “like what do you even get someone who basically has everything because you know- like you always say- we’re your everything -all you could ever want is me, Miles and Sienna- and we’re already yours, just like you’re already ours. And so I figured I’d just give you a reminder of it, something you can always keep with you so you always know.”

“It’s perfect,” Paige breathes out as she holds the locker out towards Azzi, “put it on me?”

Azzi grins as Paige turns around and the blonde watches through the mirror as the chain is placed carefully around her neck and her wife firmly clasps it together before placing a soft kiss to the back of her neck.

“I love you,” Azzi whispers when Paige turns back around, “for eternity.”

“I love you,” Paige whispers back, pulling her wife flush against her chest, the locket with her world hanging between them, “to eternity and beyond.”

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wcbb

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arkangelo-7 · 26 days ago

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What do the members of the Batfamily want for Christmas? No one asked but I headcannoned it either way:

Bruce: Nothing. At least, that’s what he says. But it’s a boldfaced lie. What Bruce actually wants for Christmas? One of those cheap ass plastic drones you can buy at Best Buy or Walmart. He’s saw them on a commercial once and back in ‘08 and has wanted one ever since. Dick is the only one privy to this information, and as such makes it a point to get one for Bruce each year. (They have a tradition on New Years to fly it around the Batcave until it inevitably breaks and cackle wildly at how stupid it looks.)

Dick: Olaplex and a 401k. However, when Christmas Day comes around, he gladly accepts the bougie shampoo/conditioner but refuses to accept the half-mil check Bruce left in his stocking. (He doesn’t need daddy’s money, Bruce, seriously lay off—)

Jason: a crowbar. He asks for this as a joke and gets pissed when Dick actually gets him one. He spends half an hour chasing Dick though the Manor, cursing him out and threatening to beat him up with the menorah. They almost set the Christmas tree on fire. When they’re done Bruce awkwardly gifts Jason a signed, collector’s copy of the Hunger Games trilogy. (He’s wanted it since he was twelve.)

Cass: she’s more of an experiment type of person, and asks to go see a new ballet that’s premiering in downtown. Bruce gives her a cute card with a promise to take her out on a daddy-daughter date to the Gotham Theater. (He rented out the whole place—they’re getting a private showing.)

Tim: Starbucks. Like, the company. Says it’s because he wants to start a monopoly on coffee to insure that his supply won’t be cut off, and price cap the Carmel macchiatos at $3. Bruce gets him a gift card instead.

Steph: Ugg Slippers. Remember that infamous video of that teenage girl getting Ugg slippers and being so so excited and running around the house screaming while her dad was confused and saying, “they’re just slippers…?” Yes. Yes this is Steph and Bruce.

Duke: for a heating system to be installed in his armor. Jesus Christ, it gets cold in Gotham in February, and the insulation is good but Duke’s the type of person who always had cold hands and feet, so he really fucking needs that armor update. (Bruce actually fixes this before Christmas and gets Duke a subscription for Planet Fitness because he saw a commercial for it at work. Duke is confused. Bruce is trying.)

Damian: an Alpaca. Surprisingly, he actually gets this. Bruce legit imports an alpaca from, like, whenever the heck those things come from and gifts it to Damian on Christmas with a bright red bow. (When Dick asks why he never got a hamster all those years ago when he asked, Bruce says it’s because Damian will actually keep the Alpaca alive. Dick has no further argument.)

(Bonus +!) Alfred: a Keurig. He asks for this every year. At this point he has a stockpile of Keurigs and truly, truly does not need an another one, but it’s all that he asks for so that’s what he’s getting. (The kids all write heartfelt letters though to put in his stocking, which is what Alfred actually wants for Christmas.)

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kirbysdreamlandd · 4 days ago

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Hamzah takes you christmas shopping

Hamzah X Y/N, Fluff, SFW

Hamzah comes home on Christmas Day with a surprise—A whole day of shopping just for you.

Oof, I rushed to post this since it’s already New Year’s! Hope you all have a fantastic year ahead and enjoy this unproofread, late fic!

You were comfortably sat on your bed, fingers tapping on the keyboard of your laptop while your lilac Apple AirPods Max—so kindly gifted to you by Freddie Dredd—rested snugly over your ears, drowning out the world with a soothing mix of your favorite jazz songs.

In your hands was your “Out of Character” mug, its handle cracked and glued back together—a casualty of Hamzah’s infamous lack of attentiveness. The poor mug had met its fate during one of your kitchen debates over what to DoorDash, a conversation that had somehow spiraled into a messy, laughter-filled makeout session right there by the countertop.

Every time you held the mug, you couldn’t help but recall that memory: Hamzah half-apologizing between kisses, both of you too caught up in the moment to care about the loud crash behind you, and the mug shattering to pieces on the floor.

Hamzah had insisted on replacing it a with another. “We have millions of others in the warehouse.” But for you, this wasn’t just any mug. It was the one that had seen you through everything. From your first awkward visit to his apartment after a Hinge date, all the way to the day you packed up your tiny studio and moved into his house.

You both had ended up buying so many other mugs over time; ones with stupid sayings like “Mama Needs a Coffee” to match your equally ridiculous “Mama Needs a Blunt” shirts.

But no matter how many novelty mugs came and went, it was always that one “Out of Character” mug that ended up in your hands.

That piece of history was now filled with the hot chocolate you and Hamzah had lovingly prepared together that morning, the steam rising in soft spirals before meeting your lips.

That morning had been full of festive joy. You and Hamzah had spent hours decorating the Christmas tree, hanging each ornament turning into a competition for who had found the most ridiculous cringeworthy decoration at Walmart.

The free time after finishing up the Christmas decorating quickly became Hamzah’s excuse to pull off your matching set of pajamas. “What? I’m unwrapping my Christmas present.”

You smiled softly to the screen of your laptop, recalling Hamzah telling you at some point that this was the best Christmas he’d ever had. “I actually feel like I’m part of a family.” he had said. It wasn’t just about you two, it was about everyone: Mandy, Martin, and all the others who had made this Christmas feel complete for him.

You were so absorbed in your memories and hypnotized by the soft voice of Kali Uchis humming in your ears that you didn’t notice Hamzah returning from his trip to the store.

He started calling your name, the third time being when you finally heard the faint sound of his voice through your headphones. You quickly got up, pulling them off as you heard him make his way to the bedroom, still calling your name.

“Babe?”You raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you greeted him. “Hey, what’s all this?” you asked, nodding toward the bags.

Hamzah grinned, shifting the bags around in his arms. “Christmas presents for the kids. Got a little carried away when I encountered the toy isle.” He paused, setting the bags down making a heavy clunk.

You peeked into the bag, spotting a huge Lego set that seemed to be Spider-Man related.

“D’you think Martin’s gonna like it?” he asked, catching you eyeing the purchase. “Bought a similar one for Freddie.”

“Oh, I checked out that Kawasaki we saw the other day,” Hamzah continued, his voice a mix of excitement and hesitation. “The owner said it’s a custom motorcycle, so it’ll probably cost a fortune. It’s not worth it, man.”

After setting down the other bag, Hamzah walked over and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you tight into him. “I got a present for you, too.”

You tilted your head back to make eye contact, and for a moment you saw that usual smug expression on his face soften with sweetness.

“Hm? What is it?” you asked, your arms swinging around his hips. You couldn’t resist giving his butt a playful squeeze, but he immediately dodged it with a playful chuckle.

He grabbed your hand gently and placed it over his chest. “Me. I’m the present.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the playful scoff that slipped from your lips. His grin widened, and he giggled softly, still holding your hand, his fingers nearly intertwining with yours.

“I’m joking.” he added quickly and slowly pulling your hand from his chest, his grip firm as he moved it to the side.

You glanced down and noticed he was still wearing the pajama pants you’d bought him, the ones covered in little Santa Claus prints. The soft fabric clung to his legs, highlighting the shape of his thighs and emphasizing the curve on his crotch area.

“I know you wanna take these off me, girl.” he blurted. Your head snapped up caught in a guilty expression. “I’m sorry, but we’ve got things to do.” he said, his voice light and teasing, until his gaze flicked down to your outfit. He paused, his expression unreadable for a moment, and you suddenly felt a wave of self-consciousness.

Hamzah wasn’t usually one to critique your outfit choices. If anything, he always found a way to compliment your carefully chosen looks, especially if they incorporated his own clothes.

“You might wanna dress up.” he stated, his voice low, but his eyes betrayed the sharp flicker of desire as they lingered on the flushed mark on your collarbone and neck, a reminder of that morning’s passionate need for each other.

You couldn’t help but flash a flustered smirk, but quickly snapped back, wondering what in God’s name he meant by “You might wanna dress up.”

You watched as he pulled away to carry the bags away, completely unbothered by your utter confusion.

“What the fuck does that mean, Hamzah?”you asked, crossing your arms as his head shot up. “Where are we going?”

He smiled, giving a smug yet amused look. With his hands now free, he fished his wallet out of the pocket of his hoodie.

“I’m splurging on you, babe.” he said casually, flipping his wallet open. Neatly stacked credit cards glinted under the light, and a Polaroid of the two of you awkwardly touching tongue tips in a photo booth peeked out from the folds.

You continued to stare at him, waiting for the punchline, unsure if this was still part of his joke. But his expression remained genuine, his smile softening into that familiar playful look Hamzah wore when he was truly happy.

“Come on, I’m taking you to wherever you want.” he said, walking toward you with a playful grin. “I know you like the matching PJs, but you’ve got to wear a lot more than that. It’s below freezing out.”

As he veered off to greet the cats with an exaggerated, high-pitched voice in response to their meows, you stood in the hallway for a moment before retreating to the bedroom. Your laptop still displayed the test you’d been taking. You closed it with a soft click, unknowingly letting out a relieved sigh.

Rummaging through your closet, you pulled out a long-sleeved black top and a comfy black silk skirt, simple but elegant. To keep warm, you layered on a fuzzy coat and wrapped a red scarf snugly around your neck.

For the final touch, your hand hesitated for a moment before reaching for the red lacey tights—the ones Hamzah always said made you look “like a sexy office siren”. A small smirk tugged at your lips as you slipped them on, pairing them with sleek black heels that completed the look.

You gave yourself a look in the mirror. The outfit was bold, a little outside your usual comfort zone, but that was part of the fun. You loved dressing up for dates; not just for the way it made you feel, but for Hamzah’s inevitable amazed reaction and silly comments every time you jokingly runway model-walked to him.

When you walked back into the hallway, his reaction was immediate. He paused mid-sentence, one hand still extended toward a cat that had been nuzzling him, and his eyes widened slightly before a lopsided grin spread across his face.

“Damn.” He said adjusting his beanie while attentively scanning your whole body. His gaze darted quickly, from your face to your chest, down to your legs, and back to your face before lingering there, his lips parting slightly as if he wanted to say more was left speechless.

“Blue got your tongue?” you teased, twirling around playfully, letting the silky skirt flare out slightly.

His only response was a breathless laugh, shaking his head as if to snap himself out of it, but his dark widened eyes were still glued to you.

You sauntered over, the click of your heels echoing in the hallway, and leaned in close. Pressing a soft kiss to his jaw, leaving behind a faint red lipstick mark.

“Girl, I want you to get my tongue.”He teased, laughing softly, before his hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer just as you tried to pull away. Your faces were inches apart now. His eyes flicked down to your lips, a hungry look quickly growing in his pupils, as if the red lipstick unlocked a new craving in him.

But before he could lean in for the kiss, you broke away, giggling, leaving him standing there with his lips slightly parted. You grabbed your bag, a mischievous smile tugging at your lips as you made your way toward the door.

The mall was alive with the chatter of couples picking out Christmas gifts, the soft clinking of cash registers blending with the festive music playing. Despite the cold air that that clung to your fuzzy coat when you’d stepped inside, the warmth of the mall enveloped you, Hamzah’s presence beside you only adding to the coziness.

You couldn’t help but notice the way his gaze would occasionally flicker to your outfit. How his lips curled into that knowing smile, along with the same teasing glint in his eyes.

Hamzah inisisted on getting you the chocolate-covered strawberries you’d been eyeing every time you passed the food stalls. The vendor, grinning at Hamzah’s excitement, threw in a jar of pistachio cream and even offered a Christmas-themed spoon for free, saying that Hamzah was “doing the right thing by spoiling his lady”.

Your next stop was a cute pink store filled with Hello Kitty and other Sanrio gadgets. You picked out a few skincare products, making sure to grab some that could be shared between you two. Hamzah had a habit of stealing your moisturizers anyway, so it only made sense. When he showed you the cherry-scented lip balm, bejeweled with tiny Hello Kitty figures, you couldn’t help but tease him. “Yeah, you could use some of that too.” Then you found yourself rummaging through Hello Kitty blind boxes, your hands practically trembling with excitement. You had to complete the collection, and Hamzah simply shook his head as you grabbed a handful of them.

“It’s an obsession” he muttered, the familiar reference slipping from his lips before he sighed dramatically. “I miss Martin.” he added, the usual remark he weaponized to draw your attention back to him.

The next stop was a high-end boutique, the kind brimming with luxurious fabrics and well-dressed staff who hovered nearby, ready to pounce on you the moment your gaze lingered on anything, ready to recommend the priciest item in the store.

Though your first reaction was to scoff at the price tags, Hamzah was relentless, insisting you try on a couple of dresses. You hesitated at first, but once you stepped out of the fitting room, you couldn’t help but notice how his eyes widened along with a bright smile.

You ended up buying two dresses, each one serving a different vibe but equally gorgeous to you.

The first dress was a chic, long-sleeved design, its soft fabric and delicate details perfect for the cottagecore look you liked. The way it hugged your figure and complimented your features made you feel like you were stepping out of a Pinterest board. As you twirled in front of the mirror, the airy fabric flowing around you, Hamzah’s voice cut through the fantasy you were immersing yourself in.

“Nara Smith can move over,” he said, his eyes wide, pointing at you and pretending to talk to an imaginary audience. “This is the perfect trad wife.”

Then came the second dress, a complete contrast. It was a lacy, see-through, short dress that had you questioning how you’d even find the occasion to wear it. It clung in all the right places and left little to the imagination, with a daring open back framed by pearly curtains. The moment you walked out, Hamzah’s face shifted from playful to serious as he quickly stood up, his hand instinctively reaching to shield you as you turned.

As you passed the sneaker store, a couple of pairs caught your eye. Shoes that matched some of the items on Hamzah’s wishlist. The temptation was too strong, so you subtly steered him inside. He hesitated, but you were persistent, convincing him to try on a few pairs making him walk around the aisles a few times.

“Are you sure they fit well?” You asked worried, follwing Hamzah awkwardly pacing up and down the aisle.

“Yes, mom.” He plopped back on the chair with an exaggerated scoff, while you leaned down to press on the tip of the shoe, making sure that there was enough space for his toes.

After much deliberation, he finally settled on a pair of black metallic shoes, admiring them with a satisfied look on his face. As you both approached the cashier, he fumbled for his wallet. You quietly handed over your card as the cashier processed the purchase, a small smile exchanged between you and the employee behind the desk while Hamzah continued make small talk, oblivious to the transaction happening right in front of him.

Once the bag was handed to him, you made your way out of the store, giggling to yourself about the little secret you held from him.

The mall had completely drained both of you, the energy spent on shopping, teasing, and trying on clothes leaving you feeling more tired than you’d expected. You both ordered two caramel macchiatos at the Christmas-y looking coffe shop and made your way back to the parking lot.

Hamzah’s tired smile, the smell of coffee, and the undeniable Christmas spirit that seemed to be everywhere around you ignited in you a calming serenity.

The warm AC hummed through the car as Hamzah turned the key, the motor rumbling to life. The car’s screen lit up, and the soft, jazzy tones of “Santa Baby” by Laufey spilled through the speakers.

“Oh my god, the spirit of the Christmas is here, literally.” Hamzah said, faking a surprised expression while extending a hand towards the screen.

“Santa, if you’re hearing me, please bring Hamzah that Kawasaki he’s always wanted.” you said, glancing at him with a playful smirk as he chuckled, steering the wheel with one hand.

Little did he know, his beloved motorcycle was waiting for him in the garage, tied up with an exaggeratedly big red bow and a red lipstick-stained note resting on top of it.

#hamzah #hamzah fluff #hamzah the fantastic #slushie #slushynoobz #hamzah x y/n #hamzahthefantastic x reader #hamzah fic #out of character.

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thekatebridgerton · 3 months ago

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I need a modern au focused on Eloise being the too independent sibling that has a lot of different jobs because she's trying to find her niche in life, so everyone is used to her frequently disappearing during family functions and just showing up with random plus ones half an hour later because nobody pays much attention to her doings until she starts introducing everyone.

" And where did you find this girl again?"

" This is Penelope, her mother was telling she's ugly in a Walmart parking lot, so I asked if she wanted to come to my brother's highschool graduation party and here we are, Penelope, this is Colin"

" Hi Colin, sorry about knocking you off your feet"

" it's okay, I have a feeling we're going to be very good friends"

----

" Eloise why is this guy here?"

" Simon? Oh I found him crying over a breakup in a frat party on campus, couldn't exactly leave him there!, I know I forgot it was your turn to host the Family Thanksgiving potluck Daphne, but I'll make it up to you on Christmas, anyway I'm going to the kitchen to help sober him up, can you believe some girl was fake dating him and got mad when he said he didn't want kids? Ugh, breakups am I right?"

" Hi Daph... Ummm about that fake dating business..."

---

" why is our maid your plus one Eloise?"

" hey, this maid is my new best friend now, since Colin stole Penelope already, she's never been to a wedding before and she's consoling me in my grief"

" Im Benedict"

" Sophie"

" Hey didn't I dance with you at my mother's masquerade last year?"

----

" You brought who to Anthony's man of the year award?"

" The Stirlings, oh it's not what your thinking Francesca!, they're total gentlemen, Michael here was telling me about his days in the army and John is an excellent poet"

" they're male escorts Eloise!!"

" And I'm not paying them, they just came with for the vibes!!"

"Anthony won't believe that, and you better go greet him before he finds out...you two sirs, come with me"

" of course beautiful, I'm Michael"

" A pleasure to be led away by you Miss, I'm John"

-------

" this time, this is the day our brother does kill you"

" How am I the bad guy? I just stopped a good work friend from going back to India by inviting her to our family annual pall mall game! How was I supposed to know she was the sister of Anthony's current victim"

" the word is Fiancee and that sister is the reason there will be no Anthony Edwina wedding"

" And I'm just finding out now? Why does nobody tell me anything in this family!! I've known Kate longer than him"

-------

" please tell me this guy isn't another one of your friends, please tell me that for once in your life you brought an actual date to a family event Eloise"

" Actually yes... Phillip this is my brother Anthony, Anthony this is Phillip, boyfriend turned future husband, I'm marrying him in the summer, we thought it would be nice to announce it during the Bridgerton Christmas family reunion, also here are Oliver and Amanda my new step kids"

" Nice to meet you um Anthony, I ah, didn't know Eloise hadn't told you we were dating"

" MOTHEEEEEER ELOISE BROUGHT ANOTHER STRAY HOME!"

----

An: I would love to see something like this because it would be hilarious

#the adventures of modern Eloise #eloise bridgerton #polin #Kanthony #Benophie #philoise #franchel

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rainforestakiie · 11 days ago

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hello everyone!

merry christmas!

here is my christmas gift for everyone! i hope you all like it! it's just a short au, but i hope it's good enough.

Life was unforgiving, a relentless tide that threatened to drown Adam every waking moment. Each day felt heavier than the last, like carrying stones in his chest. His boys, his entire world, were struggling in ways he couldn’t always reach. Adam loved them more than life itself, more than his own breath. If it were possible to take their pain and bear it for them, he would have done so without hesitation. But this year—this crushing, merciless year—had left him grappling for solutions, for ways to hold everything together.

Eve, their mother, had died when Abel was just a toddler, too young to remember her laughter or the softness of her touch. Cain, on the other hand, carried the weight of her absence like an invisible anchor, dragging him down into a sea of anger and sorrow. The grief burned in him, raw and festering, and no matter how much therapy Adam arranged, no matter how much he tried to reach him, Cain’s pain found ways to seep out. He bottled his emotions, compressing them into a tight coil that would inevitably snap, releasing all the bitterness in sharp, devastating bursts.

Abel adored Cain, following him with wide, innocent eyes full of admiration. But Cain couldn’t bring himself to meet that gaze. He avoided Abel, pushed him away, his anger turning inward, his love for his little brother drowned beneath the weight of his grief. And Abel, sweet and tender-hearted, would turn to Adam, his voice trembling as he asked, “Daddy, why doesn’t Cain like me?”

Those moments broke Adam. He would soothe Abel as best he could, whispering reassurances he didn’t fully believe. Meanwhile, Cain’s muffled sobs echoed from behind his closed bedroom door. Adam felt like he was being crushed under the weight of it all, as though he were the one dying, slowly and quietly, under the stress and sorrow.

When December approached, Adam made himself a promise. This Christmas would be different. He would give them a holiday they’d remember forever, a glimmer of light in their darkened world. He picked up every overtime shift he could, leaving the boys with their kind, elderly neighbor, Mrs. Whitaker. The extra hours drained him, but the thought of their smiles kept him going. They deserved joy, deserved a Christmas that felt magical. He swore to himself he’d give them everything.

The tree was the first step. Adam let them choose the decorations, watching with quiet joy as Cain’s usual scowl softened into something resembling a smile. They wandered through Walmart, Abel’s tiny hands tugging at Adam’s sleeve every few seconds to show him some shiny ornament or string of lights. Cain lingered by the electronics aisle, his eyes lighting up as he spotted the Xbox display. Abel, ever the dreamer, stopped by the toy section, his gaze repeatedly drifting to a colorful dollhouse. Adam pretended not to notice how long Abel stared, but he mentally added it to his list. Whatever it took, he’d get them those gifts. It was going to be a good Christmas. It had to be.

But fate, cruel and unrelenting, had other plans.

They left the store as dusk fell, the air biting and crisp, their bags filled with ornaments and garlands. Abel’s mittened hand slipped into Adam’s as they crossed the parking lot, his high-pitched chatter bouncing into the cold night. Cain trailed behind, earbuds in, his hands shoved deep into his coat pockets.

It happened so fast… and yet so slowly.

Adam would replay the moment in his mind a thousand times, the scene burned into his memory like a scar that would never fade. Abel’s hand slipped from his grasp—just for a second, just long enough for the boy to dart ahead.

“Abel!” Adam’s voice cut through the crisp air, sharp with panic.

Then he heard it. The low growl of a car engine revving, tires screeching against the icy pavement. His heart leapt into his throat as time seemed to slow to a crawl. He dropped the shopping bags without thinking, the sound of ornaments shattering barely registering in his mind. His legs moved before his brain could process, every muscle screaming as he lunged toward his youngest son.

“Abel!” he roared, his voice raw with terror.

The headlights blinded him, twin beams cutting through the gathering twilight. Abel froze, his wide eyes reflecting the glow like a deer caught in the path of an oncoming truck. Adam’s world narrowed to that single moment, the sound of his pounding heart drowning out everything else. He reached out, his fingers brushing against the fabric of Abel’s coat—so close, so agonizingly close…

And then the impact.

The sound was sickening, a dull, hollow thud that echoed in the parking lot and seemed to reverberate in Adam’s very bones. The car skidded to a stop, but the damage was done. Abel’s small body crumpled to the ground, motionless.

“No,” Adam whispered, his voice barely audible. “No, no, no…”

He fell to his knees beside Abel, scooping his limp body into his arms. The boy’s face was pale, his lashes fluttering weakly as he let out a faint, wheezing breath.

“Daddy?” Abel’s voice was so soft, barely a whisper, but it shattered Adam’s heart.

“I’m here, baby,” Adam choked out, tears streaming down his face. “I’m here. You’re going to be okay. You’re going to be okay.”

Cain stood frozen a few feet away, his earbuds dangling from his ears, his face pale as he stared at his little brother. For the first time in years, the anger was gone, replaced by pure, unfiltered fear.

“Call 911!” Adam barked at no one in particular, his voice cracking. “Someone call an ambulance!”

The driver stumbled out of the car, their face pale and trembling, words spilling from their mouth in a frantic, incoherent stream. Adam didn’t even look at them. All he could see was Abel, his sweet, precious boy, so small and fragile in his arms.

The world blurred around him, time losing all meaning. Sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder, but Adam’s focus never wavered. He held Abel close, whispering promises he wasn’t sure he could keep.

“Stay with me, buddy,” he pleaded, his voice breaking. “Please, stay with me.”

Cain dropped to his knees beside them, his hands trembling as he reached out, hesitating before placing them on Abel’s tiny arm.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry.”

Adam looked at his eldest son, his eyes filled with a mix of pain and desperate hope. For the first time in what felt like forever, they shared an unspoken understanding. They were a family—fractured, hurting, but a family nonetheless. And they would fight for Abel with everything they had.

A week later, the hospital room had become their second home. The sterile scent of antiseptic filled the air, and the soft hum of machines monitoring Abel’s recovery provided a constant background noise. Abel lay propped up in his hospital bed, his leg encased in a bright blue cast, small doodles already decorating its surface thanks to the nurses. His face was pale, but his eyes still held their spark of determination, his bravery shining through in every small smile he gave Adam and Cain.

Adam sat by his youngest son’s side, exhaustion etched into his features. The bags under his eyes told a story of sleepless nights spent worrying, praying, and strategizing how to manage the mounting bills. The Christmas he’d envisioned, filled with presents and laughter, felt like a distant dream now. Every spare penny was going toward the hospital, and the magic of the holiday seemed to be slipping away. But Adam refused to let his boys see his despair. He forced a smile, even as his heart felt heavy.

“You know,” Adam began, his voice warm and upbeat, “I heard on the news that Santa’s making his way down from the North Pole. They say the snowstorm coming tomorrow means he’s testing his sleigh to make sure it’s ready for Christmas Eve.”

Abel’s face lit up despite the pain that flickered in his expression when he moved too quickly.

“Really, Daddy? Santa’s coming soon?” His small hands gripped the edge of the blanket, his excitement momentarily washing away the weariness in his voice.

“That’s right, buddy,” Adam said, brushing a stray curl from Abel’s forehead. “And you know what? I bet he’s got something special planned for you. I mean, who else is as brave as you, huh? Santa must have noticed that.”

Abel smiled, but it faltered after a moment. His eyes fell to his hands, his fingers twisting nervously.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” he whispered. “For being stupid. If I hadn’t run off…”

“Hey,” Adam interrupted gently, leaning closer. His voice wavered, but he kept it steady enough. “No, Abel. None of this is your fault, do you hear me? You didn’t do anything wrong. Things happen, and all that matters is that you’re here with us. Don’t ever think you’re to blame for this.”

Abel nodded, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Okay, Daddy.”

Across the room, Cain sat in a chair by the window, his back turned to them. His posture was stiff, his arms crossed tightly against his chest. The reflection of his face in the glass showed the turmoil he refused to voice. His jaw was clenched, and his gaze was distant, focused on something outside that wasn’t there. Adam knew the guilt was eating at him too—Cain had barely spoken since the accident. He hadn’t even yelled or snapped, which somehow hurt more than his usual outbursts.

“Cain,” Adam called softly. “Why don’t you come sit with us? Abel’s been waiting for his big brother to tell him a story.”

Cain hesitated, his shoulders tensing. For a moment, Adam thought he might ignore the invitation, but then Cain stood, his movements slow and deliberate. He walked over, his hands shoved deep into his hoodie pockets and perched stiffly on the edge of the bed.

“Hey, squirt,” Cain muttered, his voice gruff but soft. He avoided Abel’s eyes, instead staring at the cast. “Nice artwork you’ve got there. Who drew the dinosaur?”

Abel’s grin returned, as bright as the morning sun.

“Nurse Kelly! But I told her where to put it,” he said proudly. “You can draw something too, Cain!”

Cain’s lips twitched, almost forming a smile.

“Maybe later,” he said, his voice barely audible.

Adam watched the exchange with a quiet sense of relief. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. No matter how broken they felt, no matter how much the year had battered them, they still had each other. And somehow, that had to be enough.

As the evening wore on, Adam stayed by Abel’s side, reading him stories about reindeer and snowmen, while Cain sat silently, occasionally chiming in with a sarcastic comment that made Abel giggle. The snow outside began to fall, dusting the town in white, and for the first time in days, Adam allowed himself to hope.

They might not have the perfect Christmas he had dreamed of, but they still had love. And love, Adam thought, could make even the hardest winters feel warm.

Adam swallowed hard, his throat tightening as he pulled at the frayed ends of his sweater sleeves. His fingers trembled slightly, betraying the calm facade he tried so desperately to maintain. Clearing his throat, he forced a smile and glanced between his boys.

“Hey,” he began, his voice uneven, “Why don’t we write our letters to Santa? He’s gonna need to know what you guys want for Christmas, right?”

Abel’s eyes widened, his face lighting up with a gasp of excitement. “Really, Daddy? We can write to Santa?”

Before Adam could respond, Cain’s voice cut through the moment like a dull blade.

“Why?” he asked flatly, not even bothering to look at Adam. He leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

Adam blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Well...”

“Because Santa won’t know what to get you otherwise,” he replied, trying to keep his tone light, though the strain crept into his words.

Cain’s face darkened, his jaw tightening as he scoffed. “We can’t afford a Christmas this year, so what’s the point?”

The air in the room seemed to grow heavier, the cheerful spark in Abel’s eyes flickering as his brow furrowed in confusion.

“What do you mean?” Abel asked, his voice trembling.

Adam tried to laugh it off, waving his hand dismissively. “Santa is magic, remember? He doesn’t need money. He’s got elves and all that Christmas magic stuff.”

Cain let out a bitter snort, shaking his head.

“Santa doesn’t exist, Dad,” he muttered, his tone sharp and final. He lifted his gaze to Adam, his dark eyes filled with an anger and sadness that cut Adam to the core. “I know it’s you. You’re the one who works your ass off so we can have Christmas. And this year? There’s no Christmas.”

Abel’s lower lip quivered, tears welling up in the corners of his wide, innocent eyes.

“Santa... doesn’t exist?” he whispered, his voice cracking with disbelief. His small hands clutched the edge of his blanket as though it could protect him from Cain’s words.

Adam’s chest tightened as he hissed at Cain, his tone sharp but quiet.

“Enough,” he said firmly, his eyes darting toward Abel, whose cheeks were streaked with tears.

Cain huffed, rolling his eyes. “Whatever,” he muttered, standing abruptly and stomping toward the door. The sound of the door swinging shut behind him echoed through the room, leaving a suffocating silence in its wake.

Abel sniffled, his small body trembling as he wiped at his eyes.

“Daddy... is Santa real?” he asked, his voice desperate, pleading for the truth.

Adam’s heart shattered. He crouched beside the bed, gently taking Abel’s hand in his.

“Of course, he is,” Adam said softly, though his voice broke under the weight of the lie. “Santa’s as real as the magic in Christmas, buddy. And you know what? I bet he’s waiting to see your list right now.”

Abel sniffled again, hesitating. Adam reached for his notebook and a fluffy, pom-pom-tipped pen that one of the nurses had left behind. Placing it gently on the bed beside Abel, he gave his youngest son a reassuring smile.

“Why don’t you start on your list while I go check on Cain? Just write down everything you want, okay? Santa’s got this.”

Abel’s wide, teary eyes stared down at the blank paper, his small hand reaching hesitantly for the pen.

“Okay, Daddy,” he whispered. “But... is Cain gonna be okay?”

Adam ruffled Abel’s brown curls, his voice soft and soothing. “He will be. He’s just sad right now, that’s all. But I promise, everything will be okay.”

Abel nodded, clutching the pen tightly as Adam stood. Casting one last glance at his youngest son, Adam forced himself to step out of the room, his heart heavy.

The hallway felt colder, lonelier, as Adam searched for Cain, his stomach twisting with worry. Cain was only thirteen, still a child himself, no matter how much he tried to act otherwise. Adam knew the anger Cain carried was just a mask for the hurt he couldn’t put into words. Finding him, reaching him—that was the only way forward. Adam took a deep breath and moved toward the elevator, silently praying he wouldn’t fail them again.

Abel sniffled, staring at the blank page in front of him. The notebook felt heavy in his lap, not because of its weight but because of what it represented. What could he ask Santa for? The dollhouse he’d seen at the store? The cuddly Care Bears he’d wanted for so long? He shook his head. Those things didn’t matter right now. Not really.

Abel’s tiny fingers curled around the pen, his brow furrowed in deep thought. What he wanted wasn’t a toy. What he wanted... was for his family to feel whole again.

The pen touched the paper, and Abel began to write in his uneven, childlike handwriting:

‘Dear Satan,

Hi, it’s me, Abel. I hope you and the reindeers, and the elves are doing okay! I’ve been trying to be good this year, even though sometimes it’s hard.

I thought a lot about what I want for Christmas, but it’s not toys or anything like that. I just want my daddy to be happy. He’s so tired all the time, and I think he’s really sad too. He works so, so hard to make sure me and Cain are okay, but I wish he didn’t have to. Maybe you can help him not have to work so hard anymore? And maybe... maybe you could bring him someone who can make him smile again.

And Santa, I want Cain to feel better too. He doesn’t like to talk to me, and it makes my heart hurt. I think he’s sad like Daddy, but he won’t tell me why. Could you make him happy again? I miss him. I miss when he used to laugh and play with me.

That’s all I want, Santa. Just for my family to be happy. And, if you can, please make it snow this year! Cain really likes the snow, even when he doesn’t admit it.

Thank you.

Love, Abel

As he finished, Abel sniffled again, staring down at the page. His small chest rose and fell with a deep breath. He wasn’t sure if Santa could do all that, but it didn’t hurt to ask. Carefully, he placed the notebook on the table beside him, leaning back into his pillows with a soft sigh.

He doesn’t notice his spelling mistake at all as he folded it up.

The cold air hit Adam’s face as he rushed out of the hospital, the sliding doors hissing shut behind him. His eyes scanned the parking lot and the dimly lit sidewalk beyond until he finally spotted Cain, sitting on a bench just outside the hospital’s entrance. His hood was pulled up over his head, his shoulders hunched as he stared at the ground.

Adam approached cautiously, his heart heavy with worry and frustration.

“Cain,” he called gently, but his eldest didn’t look up.

“Leave me alone,” Cain muttered, his voice tight.

Adam sighed, stepping closer. “I can’t do that, bud. I need to talk to you.”

Cain huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “What’s there to talk about?”

Adam sat down beside him, the bench creaking under his weight. “Cain, I know you’re hurting. I know it’s been really hard since... since your mom passed. But you can’t keep taking it out on Abel. He doesn’t understand why you’re so angry, and it’s breaking his heart.”

Cain scoffed, his jaw tightening as he turned to glare at Adam. “Why do you always take his side? You don’t get it.”

Adam frowned, his voice soft but firm. “Then help me understand. What’s going on, Cain?”

Cain’s hands balled into fists, his voice rising. “How can I be happy when it’s his fault Mom’s gone?”

The words hit Adam like a punch to the gut. His heart shattered, and for a moment, he could only stare at his son in disbelief.

“Cain,” he said quietly, his voice trembling. “It wasn’t Abel’s fault. Your mother got sick, sweetheart. No one could have stopped it—not you, not Abel, not me.”

Cain shook his head violently, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. “She wouldn’t have gotten sick if she didn’t have Abel! If he wasn’t born, she’d still be here!”

Adam reached out, placing a hand on Cain’s shoulder, but the boy shrugged it off. “That’s not true, Cain. You were so little back then, you don’t remember everything. Your mom loved you both so much, and she wanted Abel. She was sick before she even knew about him.”

Cain turned away, his voice breaking. “You don’t know that.”

“I do,” Adam insisted, his tone steady but pained. “I was there, Cain. I saw it all. Your mom... she fought so hard to stay with us. She loved you more than anything. She loved Abel too. Losing her wasn’t anyone’s fault. It just happened.”

Cain’s shoulders trembled, but he refused to look at Adam.

“I hate him,” he whispered, though the words lacked conviction.

Adam’s heart ached as he leaned closer. “You don’t hate him. You’re angry and hurt, and I understand that. But Abel loves you so much, Cain. He looks up to you, and he doesn’t understand why you push him away. He just wants his big brother to love him back.”

Cain’s breath hitched, and for a moment, Adam thought he might break through. But then Cain shook his head, standing abruptly. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“Cain—”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it!” Cain shouted, his voice echoing through the quiet night.

Adam watched helplessly as Cain stormed further into the parking lot, his chest tight with sorrow. He wanted to fix this, to hold his family together, but the cracks ran so deep.

“Cain,” he called again, his voice softer now. “Whenever you’re ready to talk, I’m here. I love you, kid. Don’t forget that.”

The snow fell gently at first, the flakes swirling down like delicate whispers from the heavens. Cain stood frozen, his emerald eyes wide as the first flake landed on his gloved hand. But as he stared closer, his brow furrowed, his voice small and uncertain.

“It’s... red?”

Adam’s stomach twisted at the words. He blinked, following Cain’s gaze to the flecks of snow that dusted the ground around them. It wasn’t white—it was crimson, like the snow itself had been stained. His breath caught as he instinctively reached for Cain’s shoulder, his fingers trembling slightly.

“Cain,” Adam said carefully, his voice low and steady, “Let’s get back inside. This... this doesn’t look right.”

Cain nodded mutely, his earlier anger dissipating into something far more fragile—uncertainty, perhaps even fear. Adam guided him toward the hospital’s entrance, his hand resting firmly on the boy’s shoulder as the sliding doors whooshed open.

Once inside, they turned to watch through the glass as the snowfall grew heavier, the once-gentle flurries transforming into a steady cascade. The red snow blanketed the cars, the pavement, the world outside. Adam’s jaw tightened, his mind racing as he tried to process what he was seeing.

“What in the world is this?” he muttered, half to himself.

Beside him, Cain made a soft sound, a noise somewhere between curiosity and unease. His forehead pressed lightly against the glass as he stared out, his breath fogging the surface.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” he murmured.

Adam swallowed hard, his mind darting back to Eve, to the winters they’d shared together when the snow came soft and white, blanketing the world in peace. But this… this was something else entirely. It wasn’t supposed to snow at all—Adam had only mentioned it to Abel as a way to keep the boy’s hope alive, to give him a sense of magic during such a difficult time.

But now it was snowing. Red snow.

Adam glanced down at Cain, who was still staring out with a mixture of wonder and unease.

“Cain,” Adam said quietly, “I don’t know what’s happening, but... let’s not tell Abel just yet, okay? He doesn’t need to worry about this.”

Cain hesitated, then nodded. “Okay…”

Adam’s hand rested lightly on Cain’s shoulder again, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He tried to push the unease down, to bury it beneath the weight of his responsibility. But as the red snow continued to fall outside, he couldn’t help but wonder: was this some strange, miraculous sign? Or something else entirely?

Adam felt like he was trapped in a surreal dream, one where the universe had suddenly decided to grant him reprieve from years of hardship. The letter from Eden Apple Insurance remained on the table, untouched since he first read it. No matter how many times he glanced at it, the words didn’t change. Insurance. Fully covered. Abel’s medical bills cleared. His mind raced as he tried to piece together how this could even be real.

And yet, it wasn’t just the medical bills. Everything was... shifting. Subtly, then undeniably.

The next day, Adam received another letter. This time it was from the bank. He stared at it for a long moment, his fingers trembling as he opened the envelope. Inside was a notice about a loan he’d taken years ago to cover unexpected expenses. It had been eating at him, every payment feeling like a weight tied to his ankles. But now the letter said the loan had been forgiven. Written off due to “processing discrepancies.”

“Processing discrepancies?” Adam muttered aloud, baffled. His heart raced. Was this even legal? Was it real? He didn’t have time to dwell on it before his phone buzzed.

It was a text from his cousin, Darren, who had borrowed a couple hundred dollars last year and conveniently forgotten about it. “Hey, Adam. Just sent the money I owed you to your account. Sorry it took so long. Thanks for being patient.”

Adam dropped the phone on the table, staring at it like it had sprouted wings. Darren? Paying him back?

That night, as Adam tucked Abel into bed, Cain lingered in the doorway of the hospital room. Adam half-expected his eldest son to grumble about something or stomp off outside to wait for him, but instead, Cain crossed his arms and leaned against the frame, watching Abel with a faint smile on his face.

Adam hesitated, glancing up. “Something on your mind, kiddo?”

Cain shifted awkwardly but didn’t leave. Instead, he spoke, his voice softer than usual. “I, uh… was thinking we could have lasagna tomorrow?”

The words hit Adam like a truck. He froze, blinking at Cain as though he’d just spoken in another language.

“Lasagna?”

Cain gave a small, almost sheepish shrug. “Yeah. I mean, I know we haven’t had it in, like… forever. But I was thinking about Mom a lot lately. I don’t think she’d want me to... I don’t know, keep being this... angry.”

He fidgeted, his face flushing slightly, his green eyes flicking down to the floor. “I just… I feel like I should try. For her. And for Abel.”

Adam’s throat tightened as he tried to find words. His first instinct was to double-check, to make sure this was actually his son standing in front of him. But instead, he simply nodded, his voice thick with emotion.

“I’ll make it. First thing tomorrow.”

Cain’s lips twitched into a grin. A real grin. “Cool. Thanks, Dad.”

Adam blinked several times, then glanced out the window where the red snow continued to fall, blanketing the ground in its strange, otherworldly shimmer. He still couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t supposed to be possible, that this bizarre, blood-coloured snowfall wasn’t a natural phenomenon.

But it wasn’t just the snow.

The next morning, another unexpected shift: the car. Adam had been worrying about it for weeks, hearing the strange clunking noises whenever he drove to work or the hospital. The repairs were going to cost him a fortune—money he didn’t have, even with the other miracles happening. But when he checked the mail, there was a letter from the local auto shop.

“Due to a holiday promotional raffle, your car has been fully repaired at no cost to you. Merry Christmas!”

Adam sat back in his chair, staring at the letter with wide eyes. He hadn’t entered any raffle. He hadn’t even stepped foot in the shop recently.

Then Cain came downstairs, tossing his backpack onto the couch with a grin. “Hey, Dad.”

Adam looked up, blinking. “Hey. You’re... in a good mood.”

“Yeah, school wasn’t so bad today,” Cain replied, plopping down at the table and grabbing a banana from the fruit bowl.

“Oh, and guess what? Ms. Kline actually cracked a joke in history class. Can you believe that?” He laughed, shaking his head.

Adam stared, dumbfounded. Cain. Laughing. Smiling. Talking about school as though it didn’t weigh him down like a millstone.

“Uh, lasagna tonight, right?” Cain asked, glancing up.

“Y-Yeah,” Adam stammered, still processing. “Lasagna.”

Cain grinned. “Cool.”

It was as though the universe had flipped a switch. And then came the hospital call that threw him for another loop: Abel was being discharged early. Christmas Eve, to be exact. Adam nearly dropped the phone, his mind whirring. “Wait, what? Are you sure? I thought you’d keep him through Christmas!”

The nurse on the other end chuckled. “It’s a Christmas miracle, Mr. Dawson. His recovery’s been remarkable. We’ll have the paperwork ready for you tomorrow.”

Adam hung up, his head spinning. He glanced again at the window, at the crimson snow falling steadily, glittering in the faint sunlight. There was no logical explanation for any of this. None of it made sense.

As he rubbed a hand over his face, he murmured to himself, “What in the world is going on?”

Cain’s voice came from the living room. “It’s a Christmas miracle, Dad. Just roll with it.”

Adam couldn’t help but laugh softly, his gaze drifting back to the red snow outside.

“A Christmas miracle,” he whispered. Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn’t. But for the first time in years, Adam felt something he hadn’t dared to feel in a long time.

Hope.

Christmas was just around the corner, and Adam had a sinking feeling that, if he hurried, he could still create the perfect holiday for his boys. The red snow swirling outside was strange, unsettling even, but it couldn’t ruin their Christmas... could it? When he picked Abel up from the hospital, it was the first time in weeks that Adam had felt light—truly light—as if an invisible weight had been lifted from his chest.

Abel’s small arms wrapped tightly around his neck, and he buried his face against Adam’s chest, his voice soft, “I’m so glad I’m home, Daddy.”

Adam grinned, his heart swelling with love as he gently patted Abel’s back. He could hear Cain humming beside them as they walked up the stairs to their flat. Cain looked so... happy, so carefree, like nothing was wrong.

Adam shifted Abel higher on his hip as they reached the door, a small frown tugging at his lips. The one thing that weighed on his mind was that he hadn’t been able to finish the Christmas decorations before Abel came home. He’d wanted it to be perfect for them. He opened the door, stepping inside... and froze. His heart skipped a beat, a strange feeling of dread curling in his stomach as his eyes widened.

Both Cain and Abel gasped, their voices filled with wonder. Cain looked at him, his brow furrowed in disbelief, “When did you have time to do all this?”

Abel squealed, his arms tightening around Adam in pure joy. “Daddy! This is amazing!”

Adam let out a soft, awkward laugh, his eyes darting around the room. The living room was... overdone. Every inch of their home was covered in decorations, down to the hallway, kitchen, and even the bathroom. Cain and Abel’s shared room, with the bunk beds, looked like something out of a dream—or maybe a nightmare, depending on how you looked at it. Adam carefully set Abel down on the sofa, scratching the back of his head nervously.

How did this all happen?

“Dad?!” Cain’s voice called out from the kitchen. “You made cookies?”

Adam blinked, staring at Cain as he entered the room, a plate of cookies in hand. They were perfectly shaped, decorated like little Santa faces and reindeer, their eyes glittering with something almost too perfect. Adam’s mouth hung open, confusion flooding his mind. Did he make these? He didn’t remember baking cookies. But they looked so... real, so delicious.

Cain hummed, moving toward Abel with a playful grin, offering him one of the cookies. Abel gasped, his eyes wide with delight.

“Daddy! They’re so cute!” he giggled, picking up a reindeer cookie, “Look, this one has red eyes!”

He laughed, delighted by the bizarre little treat.

Adam’s lips twitched into a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. His gaze drifted to the Christmas tree, its dark red, purple, and black ornaments gleaming in the strange light of the room. It was... something, alright. A bit much, even. Too much. But somehow, everything felt so perfect—too perfect. He couldn’t remember doing it, yet it was there, overwhelming him with its eerie beauty.

Something was wrong, but for a moment, Adam couldn’t figure out what. He only knew that, for better or worse, everything was just... done.

Adam’s heart thudded in his chest as he slowly stepped further into the flat, his eyes taking in every inch of the transformed space. Twinkling fairy lights adorned the walls, shimmering garlands hung over doorways, and stockings were neatly hung by the window ledge—one for each of them, including a tiny one for the dog they didn’t even have. The Christmas tree stood proudly in the corner of the living room, a mix of red, purple, and black ornaments gleaming under the glow of string lights.

Cain plopped onto the sofa beside Abel, a cookie already half-eaten in his hand.

“Seriously, Dad,” he said around a mouthful. “You really outdid yourself. This is, like, Pinterest-level stuff.”

Adam blinked, his mind scrambling to make sense of it all. “Uh…”

His voice cracked slightly as he tried to form words. “Thanks…?” He sounded so unsure it made Cain glance up.

“Wait,” Cain frowned, raising a brow. “You did do this, right?”

Adam scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, his eyes darting to the cookies in Cain’s hand. He didn’t remember making cookies. In fact, he didn’t remember doing any of this. His gaze swept over the Christmas decorations again—the perfectly strung lights, the coordinated tree ornaments, the festive throw pillows on the couch. How could he have missed this? Was someone else in his flat? Was he losing it?

Abel’s squeals of excitement snapped him out of his thoughts. The little boy held the reindeer cookie up to Adam with bright, sparkling eyes.

“Daddy, look! It’s Rudolph, but his nose is so shiny! And he has the cutest little antlers!” Abel giggled, his tiny hands cradling the cookie like it was a treasure.

Adam forced a smile, his lips twitching slightly.

“That’s, uh, great, buddy,” he managed, his voice uneven.

Cain flopped back against the couch, pulling another cookie from the plate. “Man, you were busy,” he said, his voice light and relaxed.

“I mean, I didn’t think you’d even have time to get decorations, let alone set all this up.” He gestured vaguely at the room, then bit into another cookie.

Adam shifted nervously. “Yeah…” he murmured. “Busy.”

“Daddy?” Abel tilted his head, staring up at him with wide, curious eyes. “Did you make all this for us? It’s the best Christmas ever!”

Adam’s chest ached at the sincerity in his youngest son’s voice. He crouched down in front of Abel, brushing a stray curl out of his face.

“Of course, I wanted to make this special for you,” he said softly. And it wasn’t a total lie. He did want to make it special. He just… didn’t know how all of this had come together.

Abel threw his arms around Adam’s neck, squeezing tightly. “Thank you, Daddy!”

Adam hugged him back, his heart both full and bewildered. When Abel pulled back, Adam glanced at Cain, who had stuffed another cookie in his mouth and was now flicking through a Christmas catalogue that had somehow appeared on the coffee table.

The flickering red glow from the snow outside caught Adam’s eye, and he glanced toward the window. The crimson snowstorm had picked up again, blanketing the streets and rooftops in an eerie glow. Adam felt a chill creep up his spine, though he quickly shook it off. Whatever this strange snow was, it had brought something to his family—something warm and magical.

“Alright,” Adam said, clapping his hands together. “Cookies before dinner isn’t exactly the best idea, but I’ll allow it. Let’s figure out what we’re making tonight.”

“Lasagna,” Cain piped up without hesitation.

Adam blinked, then laughed softly. “Right. Lasagna it is.”

As the boys chattered excitedly about Christmas morning, Adam stepped into the kitchen, running his hand along the countertop. Everything was spotless, perfectly arranged, as though someone had come in and scrubbed the place down to a shine. There were even candy canes arranged in a neat little jar on the counter, tied with a red ribbon.

He stared at the candy canes for a long moment, his stomach twisting. He didn’t have an explanation for any of this. But when he glanced back into the living room and saw his boys smiling—really, truly smiling—for the first time in what felt like forever, he decided he didn’t need one.

Lasagna. Eve was the one who always made it, and it was always perfect. The boys loved it, and so did he. How in the world was Adam supposed to make something half as good? He didn’t want to disappoint them—not now, not ever. But looking at them, seeing Cain laughing softly as he spoke to Abel, his heart swelled with love. Cain was always so good with him, so kind, and Abel, sweet little Abel, was glowing with happiness. Adam’s chest tightened with resolve. No, he wouldn’t disappoint them. He couldn’t. He was going to make the best lasagna in the world, no matter what.

With a deep breath, Adam entered the kitchen, determination in his steps. He unpacked the brown paper bag with all the ingredients, his hands moving methodically as he prepared to make something that could at least come close to Eve’s masterpiece. But as he scanned the cupboards for the baking tray, something caught his eye.

His brow furrowed as he crouched down, examining his oven. The handle felt strangely cool, and when he pulled it open—Adam froze. His breath hitched in his throat as he stared at the most beautifully made lasagna he’d ever seen. Perfectly layered, steaming, with golden-brown edges... and beside it, garlic bread, perfectly crisped.

Adam blinked, mouth agape. "What the...?" he muttered under his breath.

Who had broken into his flat? Who had decorated everything, made cookies, lasagna... and—Adam’s gaze shot to the counter. There, lined up like a holiday dream, were mugs filled with hot chocolate. Whipped cream piled high, sprinkles scattered on top, and a piece of chocolate sticking out like it belonged in a picture-perfect holiday ad.

His mind raced. What in the living hell was going on?

Was he losing his mind? He didn’t remember doing any of this. His pulse quickened as a cold shiver ran down his spine. The decorations, the cookies, the lasagna, the hot chocolate—who was doing this? Was someone watching him? The strange, perfect nature of it all felt too... unsettling.

Too good to be real.

He tried to steady his breath, but his heart was pounding. He couldn't shake the feeling that someone—or something—was here, watching. Helping him, maybe? Or worse... controlling everything.

The weirdness didn’t stop there, no. The entire night, Adam found himself stumbling across oddities that left his mind spinning. He just wanted to enjoy a film with the boys, share a cozy night together without disappointment. Their television was old and cracked, the screen was patchy, and it didn’t pick up all the channels, but Adam had accepted that.

Except, when he turned the TV on, the screen lit up perfectly. He bit his bottom lip, staring in disbelief. It wasn’t just the screen—it was everything. The colours were sharper, the picture clearer than it should’ve been, and there were more channels than the TV should have been able to pick up.

"How did that happen?" Adam muttered to himself, but before he could ponder it further, Abel, perched on the couch next to him, looked up with wide eyes.

“Daddy, can we have popcorn?”

Cain, ever the realist, tried to gently remind Abel they didn’t have any. Adam smiled softly, determined not to disappoint, and hummed, “I’ll just run to the shop quick!”

But before he could leave, he spotted a perfect bucket of fresh, salty and sweet popcorn sitting right on the kitchen counter.

His stomach twisted. He hadn’t made that. It was... too perfect.

When it was time for the boys to go to bed, Adam went to tuck them in, but when he stepped into their room, something else was wrong. The bunk bed—their bunk bed—had fresh, soft quilts, fluffy pillows, and snug sheets that smelled sweet. Cain gasped, staring at the bed in awe, and Abel squealed with joy upon finding a stuffed bear tucked under his covers.

Adam sheepishly tucked them both in, feeling a strange mixture of exhaustion and confusion. He stood still for a moment, his heart swelling with love for his boys, but a cold dread filled him as he scanned the perfectly decorated living room again.

Everything was so perfect. Too perfect.

What was going on? Adam’s gaze landed on something that stopped him dead in his tracks—Sinsmas. It was written everywhere—on the walls, on little notes scattered about. Sinsmas? He frowned, confused. What the hell was that?

Then, he noticed a small piece of paper on the floor. Bending down to pick it up, he saw it was Abel’s Christmas letter to Santa. Adam smiled, thinking maybe Abel had dropped it. His heart warmed as he read the sweet, innocent words, but his lips twitched when he noticed something odd. In big, colourful letters, it read…

“Dear Satan...”

Adam blinked, his mind racing. Did Abel really just write a letter to Satan instead of Santa? He laughed quietly, at first thinking it was just a mistake—maybe a simple mix-up. But as the sound of his own laugh faded into the strange silence of the room, he felt something else: a deep, gnawing unease.

Abel had written a letter to Satan. The devil? What was happening? His mind flashed back to the strange events of the past month—how everything seemed off, like a bad dream playing out in real life. The decorations, the cookies, the lasagna... Sinsmas—none of it made sense.

A wave of dizziness hit him, and he stood there for a long moment, staring at the letter in his hands. His smile faded, and in its place, an overwhelming sense of wrongness settled deep in his bones. Abel hadn’t just mixed up the names. It felt like this was more than a simple mistake. And for the first time, Adam couldn’t shake the feeling that something... or someone... was pulling the strings.

A deep, unsettling hum of confusion buzzed in his head. The world was starting to feel like it wasn’t his own anymore.

Satan?

No. Nooooo. The devil didn’t exist. It was just a story, a myth, a bedtime tale. He and Eve used to joke about it, back in the day—laughing, teasing each other about how they were Adam and Eve from Eden. As if they were the stars of some ancient fable. It was all just that—a fable. There was no heaven. No angels. No God. No hell. And certainly, no devil.

Nope. No.

Adam’s breath hitched as he sank into the sofa, his gaze fixed on Abel’s Christmas letter, his mind working overtime to make sense of it all. His left hand slowly moved to cover his mouth, his thoughts tumbling together like a twisted puzzle. Red snow? Red snow? How could he ignore that? It had snowed, but the snow had been red. And then his luck—his terrible luck—had suddenly turned around. Money problems vanished, a new car appeared out of nowhere, the television fixed itself, and the decorations... the decorations that had shown up overnight. And let’s not even talk about the food.

"Was... was this... all of this..." Adam whispered shakily, his heart beginning to pound with a growing sense of unease.

The sudden puff of hot breath against his neck made his blood run cold.

A voice, smooth and velvety, teased the air. "My work?"

Adam’s body froze. His heart raced, hammering against his ribs as the hair on the back of his neck stood up in sharp, icy awareness. His emerald eyes widened, and without thinking, he whipped his head around.

A man was standing just behind him, casually leaning against the back of the sofa, his arms crossed smugly over the cushions. The man’s lips curved into a smirk that was almost predatory, and his eyes—his eyes—glittered red and gold, like molten metal catching the light. Adam’s stomach twisted into a knot, his mind screaming that this wasn’t real.

Then, the man shifted slightly. A tail. It swished behind him, a sleek, dark appendage that flicked playfully against the floor, sending Adam stumbling back in shock. He yelped, his feet tangling as he fell backwards onto the floor, his backside landing with a painful thud.

The man stared down at him with an almost amused glint in his eyes. His horns—horns—glittered with the red glow of the room.

“Sorry, I should have greeted you first, huh?” The voice was almost too sweet, like syrup—sickly sweet.

Adam’s heart pounded in his ears. His breath came in sharp gasps as he scrambled to push himself back against the sofa, his hands shaking.

“Who... who are you?”

His voice was barely a whisper, tight with fear. He instinctively covered the back of his neck, as if that would somehow protect him from this... thing.

The man smirked wider, and Adam could see the sharp, glinting teeth in his mouth. He laughed—a low, dark sound that made Adam’s skin crawl. The man twirled, flowing across the back of the sofa like it was nothing, his claws trailing lazily along the cushions.

"I'm sure you know who I am," he purred, his voice dripping with amusement.

Adam shook his head violently, his voice growing frantic.

“You’re not real!” he shouted, the words tumbling out in a panicked rush. "This isn’t real!"

But as the man continued to grin at him, as his tail swayed lazily back and forth, Adam’s certainty began to crack. Something was deeply wrong here. The world had shifted. And this man... this creature wasn’t just some figment of his imagination.

Adam’s heart raced. He tried to push himself up, but his limbs felt heavy, like they didn’t belong to him.

“No. This isn’t happening,” he muttered, but his voice wavered, unsure.

The man leaned down slightly, his red and gold eyes gleaming with amusement and something darker. “Oh, but it is. And it’s my work, Adam.”

Adam froze at the sound of his name. How did he know his name?

The man’s smile widened, as if he could hear the desperate beat of Adam’s heart. “Didn’t you wonder why everything changed, Adam? Why everything is... so perfect now?”

He paused, letting the words hang in the air. “You can stop pretending it’s all just a coincidence. I made it happen.”

Adam's breath caught in his throat. What did this man—this thing—want from him? What kind of nightmare was this?

But the man’s grin never faltered, and Adam knew, in the pit of his stomach, that whatever this was... it was only just beginning.

Adam's gaze followed the man, his heart pounding wildly as he watched him move around the room. The man—no, the devil—was casually strolling through the living room, as if this was his home. With a flick of his claws, he rearranged the decorations, and in a blink, the entire atmosphere of the room shifted. The lights twinkled brighter, the tree grew, and the space seemed to become even more beautiful—almost overwhelmingly so.

The man let out a pleased coo, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "I think the boys will like it better if the tree was bigger," he murmured, as if speaking to himself.

Adam’s mouth dropped open, and he stared in shock as the tree grew before his eyes, its branches stretching higher, its lights burning brighter. He could hardly believe it. This... this was insane.

The man—Lucifer—chuckled darkly, his voice smooth and lilting. "It’s not that bad."

His voice softened as he glanced over his shoulder, locking eyes with Adam. “I’m here to help.”

"Help?" Adam whispered shakily, like a mouse caught in a trap. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. His legs buckled beneath him, and he sank back onto the sofa, his mind spiraling out of control.

“You... the devil? Satan himself? Here to help?”

The man grinned wider, his blonde hair catching the soft glow of the lights.

"Well, Satan isn't exactly me," he purred, stretching out the words like a cat toying with a mouse. "He’s a sin. But Abel's letter was so sweet and pure-hearted, I couldn’t let it go down into the ring of wrath. Not when there’s such potential."

Adam blinked, his brain struggling to catch up.

"Abel's... letter?" he stammered. What was happening? His mind couldn’t form a coherent thought.

The man—Lucifer, he reminded himself—took a few steps closer, his eyes gleaming red and gold, gleaming with an unsettling, almost hypnotic light.

“Besides," Lucifer added, his voice taking on a smug, almost amused tone, "I am the King of Hell. I outrank Satan, anyway.”

Adam felt the air leave his lungs. The King of Hell? He wanted to ask more, to demand answers, but before he could form the words, Lucifer turned to face him directly, his eyes locking onto Adam's with an intensity that made his chest tighten.

“I'm Lucifer, by the way,” he purred, his voice low and playful. “I’d prefer if you called me Lucifer.”

Another strangled laugh escaped Adam, his whole-body trembling.

"Of course," he gasped, “Lucifer! Like—like the archangel, right?”

Lucifer’s lips curled into a slow, satisfied smile, his tail flicking back and forth, almost like a cat’s.

"One and the same," he cooed. "The fallen angel."

Adam’s head swam as he tried to make sense of the madness. The devil. Lucifer. The King of Hell. The man standing before him had just made the Christmas tree grow, had rearranged his life without so much as a second thought. His world had been turned upside down in ways he couldn’t explain. The sweet smell of cookies, the beautiful decorations, the sudden appearance of presents, the perfect snow… it was all too much, and yet, here it was.

His mind was screaming for a way out, for an escape from the bizarre reality he found himself in. But Lucifer—the devil—was right there, standing in front of him, his demonic eyes shining brightly in the dim room, as though it were all just a game.

What the hell did he want with Adam?

What the fuck did he want with his boys?

Adam’s heart was racing in his chest, thudding painfully as Lucifer’s gaze never wavered. It was as though every movement the man made was calculated, predatory—a slow, deliberate dance that seemed to draw Adam in without him even realizing it.

Lucifer took a step closer, his movements fluid, effortless. His tail flicked in the air with a slight swish, as if it were playing with the tension that hung thick between them. He didn’t seem in a rush. He was enjoying this. Adam could feel his breath quicken as the air in the room seemed to get heavier with each second, each heartbeat, each breath.

“You’re so... tense, Adam,” Lucifer purred, his voice low and velvety, an unsettling warmth creeping into the words. He placed a hand on the back of the sofa, leaning in just a little closer, his red-and-gold eyes burning with amusement.

“Do I scare you, darling? You’re not usually this... wound up.”

Adam’s eyes widened in shock, and he took a small step back, trying to distance himself from the magnetic pull Lucifer seemed to exude.

"I—I don't know what you're talking about," he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. He forced himself to stand tall, but his legs felt weak beneath him.

He wanted to run, wanted to scream, but his body refused to obey. Instead, he stood frozen, feeling the invisible weight of Lucifer’s gaze on him. The devil’s attention was like a heatwave, suffocating and inescapable.

Lucifer’s lips twitched into a smirk, clearly enjoying Adam’s discomfort.

“You’re trembling,” he observed, his voice a soft, honeyed tease. He took another step forward, his hand brushing lightly against the edge of Adam’s shoulder, his touch so gentle, so deliberate, it sent a shiver down Adam’s spine.

“Do you know how easy it would be to break that tension? To make you... feel good? I could show you what it’s like to let go...”

Adam’s breath hitched at the sudden proximity. Lucifer was so close now, close enough that Adam could feel the heat radiating off his body. The devil leaned in just enough for Adam to catch a glimpse of his sharp, pearly-white teeth, his smile wide and taunting. His scent was overwhelming—sweet, like cinnamon and smoke, but tinged with something darker, something intoxicating.

“You must know, Adam...” Lucifer murmured, his lips practically grazing Adam’s ear as he whispered. “You are beautiful when you’re frightened.”

He straightened up slowly, looking Adam dead in the eye. “But I can make you feel so much more than fear.”

Adam’s mind was spinning, trying desperately to piece everything together, to think through the madness, but it was impossible. His body felt like it was on fire, his heart pounding erratically in his chest. The fear was still there—so much fear—but something else stirred beneath it, something dangerous. His stomach twisted, part of him revolted, and yet, another part of him wanted to step closer, to reach out for Lucifer.

Lucifer seemed to sense the battle in Adam’s mind, and his grin deepened. He reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against Adam’s jaw, his touch feather-light, yet it felt like fire.

“You’re not fooling anyone,” he said, his voice thick with amusement. “You want this, Adam. You’ve wanted it all along.”

Adam’s breath caught in his throat. He wanted to deny it, to scream that this wasn’t real, that he wasn’t... interested in whatever game Lucifer was playing. But the words wouldn’t come. His lips were dry, his mouth too parched to speak, and his pulse raced in his ears.

Lucifer’s fingers trailed down Adam’s neck, slow and deliberate, like a predator savouring his prey.

“You’ve been hunted for so long, haven’t you?” he whispered, voice smooth and coaxing. “Fighting against it. Denying it. But now... now, you’re mine. Just let me have you.”

Before Adam could protest, Lucifer’s other hand came up to cup his face, gently but firmly, forcing him to look up. Lucifer leaned in, his breath warm against Adam’s lips, his eyes burning with lustful hunger. It was happening, Adam thought, his heart thundering in his chest. He was being hunted. And Lucifer... Lucifer was the predator.

Lucifer's lips brushed against Adam’s, just a whisper of a touch, so close, so torturously close.

“You’ve been running from this for so long, Adam. But you can’t keep running forever.” He pressed just a little closer, his lips nearly brushing against Adam’s. “Let me show you how sweet surrender can be.”

The room seemed to spin. Adam felt his body tremble, his breath shallow. Every instinct screamed at him to pull away, to run, but Lucifer’s touch was like a drug—warm, soothing, and dangerous all at once.

Adam’s heart raced, and for the first time, he didn’t know what was real anymore.

With a startled squawk, Adam practically launched himself away from Lucifer. His eyes were wide, staring at the devil like he’d just seen a ghost—one with horns and a tail.

“Y-you... you go back now!” Adam stammered, pointing at the air like he could somehow banish Lucifer with his finger. “Go back to... um...”

Lucifer tilted his head, an innocent expression playing across his face.

“Hell?” he offered, his voice sing-song, as if he were helping Adam find the right words.

“Yes! That's right! Go back to hell!” Adam practically shouted, hands flailing in desperate motion. “You’re—you're not needed anymore!”

Lucifer snickered, a sound that sent a shiver up Adam’s spine. He slowly crept closer, his tail trailing behind him like a snake, flicking and twirling.

“Can’t do that,” he purred, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Adam let out a strangled sound from deep in his throat. “What... what do you mean you can’t?”

Lucifer inched closer, eyes gleaming like a predator sizing up its next meal, claws crossed behind him in a too-casual way.

“Well, you see... my contract is with little Abel, not you, Addie. So, I’m afraid you can’t send me back to Hell,” he teased, a wicked grin stretching across his face.

Adam blinked rapidly, once, twice, as if trying to make sense of the absurdity of what he was hearing.

“Contract?!” he finally managed to get out, his voice a mix of confusion and panic. He grabbed onto Lucifer’s ridiculously elaborate jacket, yanking him forward, his fingers trembling with frustration. “What the hell do you mean you have a contract with my baby?! What do you want with Abel?!”

Lucifer raised a single claw to tap lightly against Adam’s hand, his voice laced with amusement. “Relax, darling. I’m not going to harm Abel. I’m not heartless, you know. He’s just a kid.”

Adam's grip tightened, his frown deepening as he pulled Lucifer closer, hissing through his teeth. “Then what do you want with him?”

Before Adam could process the question, Lucifer leaned in with unnerving speed and brushed his lips against Adam’s ear, sending a spark of electricity down his spine. Adam gasped, startled, but when he looked around to see where Lucifer went, the devil had somehow managed to slink away, now lounging lazily across the couch as if it was his own throne.

“What the—?” Adam’s jaw dropped, blinking in disbelief. “What the fuck was that?!”

Lucifer purred, an arrogant glint in his eyes as he made himself comfortable.

“It’s just... let’s say a free sample,” he teased, his voice dripping with mischief, an eyebrow arched as he looked up at Adam.

Adam’s eyebrows shot up so high, they practically disappeared into his hairline. “A free sample for what, exactly?”

Lucifer’s smirk widened, his eyes glinting with far too much amusement.

“Well... for you, darling,” he purred, lazily curling his tail around the cushion, “Just a little taste of what’s to come.”

Lucifer’s smirk only deepened as he lounged across the sofa, his posture casual, but every movement was predatory, like a lion sprawled lazily after a successful hunt. His red and gold eyes glinted, amusement radiating from every inch of him. He ran a clawed finger lazily along the cushion, tapping to some unseen rhythm, as if the entire world was a game he was playing—Adam included.

Adam stood frozen, his heart hammering in his chest, his breath shallow. The air around them felt thick, as though the very room itself was holding its breath, waiting for the next move. Lucifer hadn’t even broken a sweat, but Adam could feel the tension crackling in the space between them.

“A free sample, Addie?” Lucifer purred, his voice smooth, dripping with an unsettling sweetness. “For you, of course.”

He shrugged nonchalantly, eyes never leaving Adam. “Let’s say... I’m offering you a chance to experience what it’s like to be touched by a real god.”

He tilted his head, the playful glint in his eyes darkening just a little. “I’m sure you’ve always wondered. Haven’t you?”

Adam's heart skipped a beat, and he staggered back a step, his fists clenching. The words hit harder than any punch could. He couldn’t understand this—didn’t want to understand it. A god? He wasn’t sure if Lucifer was taunting him, playing some sick joke, or if something else was happening entirely.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Adam demanded, his voice trembling despite his best attempt at bravado.

Lucifer didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he leaned back further on the sofa, clearly enjoying watching Adam squirm. His tail flicked back and forth lazily, as if toying with the idea of pouncing.

“Everything in time, darling,” Lucifer purred, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper. “You’ll understand soon enough. But you must know...”

His eyes locked onto Adam’s, smouldering with an intensity that sent a chill down his spine. “Once you’ve tasted it, once you’ve felt my touch... there’s no going back. And trust me, I’ll make you crave more. You will crave more.”

Adam’s stomach churned, his hands shaking. His mind screamed at him to get out, to run, but his body refused to move. Lucifer was closing in on him, his predatory smile widening with each step. Adam could almost hear the sound of his heart thundering in his ears, each beat louder than the last.

“Why?” Adam found his voice again, though it was barely above a whisper. He took a step back, still trying to make sense of it all. “Why him? Why Abel? What’s your deal with my kid?”

His throat tightened, and he couldn’t bring himself to look away from Lucifer’s glittering eyes. “You’re not taking him. I won’t let you.”

Lucifer’s eyes darkened slightly, but his smile never faltered. He propped himself up on his elbows, leaning in just enough to make Adam’s pulse quicken.

“Oh, darling,” Lucifer crooned, his voice low and intimate.

“I told you. It’s a contract.” His eyes glinted with amusement, watching Adam’s confusion ripple across his face. “I’m not here to harm the little one, not in the way you think. His heart is pure, and I’m... quite fond of purity. But the real question is, Adam... what do you want?”

Adam’s breath caught in his throat, his mind scrambling. What was this? Some kind of twisted game? The whole situation felt like a nightmare that he couldn’t escape.

“What I want...?” he repeated slowly, unable to believe the words were coming out of his own mouth. “I just want you to leave. To get away from my family.”

Lucifer’s smirk deepened, and his eyes shone with amusement. “But you don’t really want that, do you, Addie?”

“You’ve been... curious, haven’t you? Wanting something more. More than just a man. More than just some mortal touch.” His tail flicked again, brushing lightly across the floor. “And I can give that to you. All you have to do is take it.”

Before Adam could respond, Lucifer moved in a flash, standing so close that Adam could feel the heat radiating from his body. His red-and-gold eyes bored into Adam’s, searching, probing, and something in them flickered, something dangerously inviting.

Lucifer’s lips parted just slightly as if he was about to say something—but instead, he leaned forward, his breath hot against Adam’s cheek.

“Don’t worry, Adam. I’ll wait for you.” His voice was soft, almost sweet, as he grazed his lips lightly against Adam’s ear. “After all, we’ve got all the time in the world.”

And then, just as quickly, Lucifer backed away, his smirk never leaving his face. He sauntered back to the sofa, stretching out lazily, his tail coiling behind him in a hypnotic swirl.

Adam’s heart was pounding in his chest, his body trembling as if he’d just run a marathon. He was dizzy, breathless, and confused.

What was this? He shook his head, trying to force his mind to clear. It was madness. All of it.

But Lucifer’s next words made the pit in his stomach deepen.

“Just remember, Addie,” Lucifer cooed, his voice low and dangerous. “The more you resist, the more you’ll want. I’ll make you beg for it. It’s only a matter of time.”

Running a hand down his face, Adam groaned. This had to be dream.

A really-really bad nightmare.

#hazbin hotel #adamsapple #lucifer x adam #fanfic #au #guitarduck #fanficiton

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kayleighwinchester · 11 days ago

Text

Everything I Wanted for Christmas

Well, y'all, after an insane peak season at Amazon, fighting the awful writer's block dragon, and lots of Christmas music on Spotify, we made it! @fangirlingfromdownunder, you were my SPNFanficPond Secret Santa recipient! I accidentally deviated a bit from the info you gave; the brain worms started doing their thing, and here we are! I hope you like it nonetheless - I absolutely adored writing it! Merry Christmas!

Seeing Dean settle into something close to ‘normalcy’ was a fascinating thing to watch - especially as the holidays drew nearer.

The eldest Winchester had, you knew, never known much of a life outside of cheap extended-stay motels and the backseat of the Impala; Christmas had consisted, at best, of stolen decorations and gas-station presents, if those weren’t outright stolen too. Now, with the bunker, you’d had a front row seat to watch him, in an endearing turn of events, essentially begin nesting. He scolded Sam if the kitchen was left messy, got on your case about towels left on the bathroom floor, and became viciously protective of his own – and later, your shared – space within the Men of Letters’ underground sanctuary.

With that in mind, you were more than a little curious to see how the holidays would go over - how Dean would take to the festivities he’d never fully had a chance to indulge in.

This… Wasn’t exactly what you had expected. Not by a long shot.

Dean had ushered you out the door that morning with a handwritten list, one you were sure, now, was just an excuse to get you out of the bunker for a few hours. It included everything from vanilla extract to hooks for outdoor Christmas lights (where the hell was he planning on hanging outdoor lights?) – from tinsel to cookie cutters. Your suspicion was only furthered by the fact that you were quite sure that at least half of what you were reading on his chicken-scratch list was already in the many cabinets and closets of the bunker, or, at least, could have waited - this list easily could have been spread out over more than one beer run, rather than Dean all but shoving you out the door.

Still, you complied - though not without a fair bit of grumbling when the eldest Winchester didn’t respond to your ‘I’m back’ text, leaving you to haul the first load of bags through the front door yourself.

What you saw in exchange, however, was most certainly worth it.

Dean was all but fighting for his life, grappling with a tree that was, admittedly, a bit too large for the space it was in, if anyone had bothered to ask your opinion. It only took you a moment or two to realize that it was, in fact, a real tree, and Dean did, in fact, have help (that realization was helped along by Dean’s sudden, panicked, “dammit, Sam –” as the tree swayed precariously, threatening to drop toward his side). It took another moment or two to process that they had somehow gotten said real tree into the bunker - you glanced down, finding that you were crushing a light carpet of needles underfoot.

“Come on, man, this shouldn’t be this hard,” Sam sighed out, sounding utterly exasperated with his older brother as you watched him try to get a better grip on the utterly massive tree.

Dean bristled slightly. “‘Shouldn’t be this hard’,” He mimicked the words back, adding a grumbled, “shut up” onto the end. “Just need to get this thing up before she gets back -...”

You decided to spare Dean’s dignity for as long as humanly possible, quietly sneaking out to get the next few loads of grocery bags - all plastered in colorful logos from Walmart, Menards, the local mini-mart, and even one or two from Dollar Tree. By the time you were done, you were relieved to find the tree finally standing, the branches still settling, and Dean huffing and puffing, taking a long drink from a beer sitting on the war room table.

“Looks good,” You called down, leaning against the banister.

The eldest Winchester went utterly still.

Clearly, this wasn’t all he’d hoped to accomplish with his few hours of near-solitude, because he let out a quiet, “Son of a bitch,” under his breath, scrubbing his free hand over his face, before adding a louder, gentler, “Thanks, Sweetheart,” though his tone still held a bit of exasperation. He looked up toward the door, pausing as he saw the veritable mountain of shopping bags around you, and quietly, sheepishly asked, “...Uh, how long you been standin’ there, Sweetheart?”

“A while,” You said simply, holding up the last of your shopping haul - a case of beer. He grimaced, scrubbing his hand over his face once more, motioning a bit helplessly to the tree.

“Surprise,” He offered halfheartedly. “I was gonna -...” Another half-hearted motion toward the offending evergreen. “Ran outta time, I guess.” His shoulders slumped just slightly, and he took another drink of his beer.

“Decorate it?” You guessed, and he nodded. “De, we can do that together. I figured we would. That’s kind’a the whole point.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I just -...” He grumbles softly. “Wanted to surprise you.”

“I’m not gonna lie,” You crossed your arms on the banister, leaning forward, eyeing the tree. “That’s a pretty damn big surprise, Baby. How the hell did you get that thing in here?” And for the first time, you noticed that the tree was suspiciously close to the nearest wall, and…

You couldn't help but bark out a laugh. “...Did you cut it in half?”

“No!” Dean barked out immediately.

Sam, emerging from the kitchen, helpfully supplied, “He just cut half the branches off,” though he sounded utterly exasperated. Dean shot him a withering look that really did define the phrase ‘if looks could kill’.

“‘S not half.” Dean grumbled. “Just… Took some off the back. Wouldn’t fit through the door otherwise. ‘Sides,” He shot Sam a pointed look, “aren’t you supposed to be meeting up with Eileen? Y’know, somewhere that’s not here?”

Sam raised his hands in surrender. “You’re the one that needed help with the tree.” He pointed out.

“Yeah, well. Tree’s up.” Dean returned, using both hands – one still holding his beer – to shoo Sam toward the door. Sam rolled his eyes, staring up at the ceiling for a moment, before he disappeared down the hall. Dean’s own eyes returned to you, and, more importantly, the bags piled around your feet. “Could’a called me to help with those, y’know.” He pointed out as he took the stairs two at a time to begin helping you carry them the rest of the way into the bunker.

“I tried,” You commented dryly, holding up your phone and waving it once. He cast a glance down to his own phone, sitting on the table, and then back to you a bit guiltily.

“Didn't hear it,” He said, looking just a bit like a scolded puppy. “I would’a helped.” He began to pick up bags – clearly attempting to make up for his misstep by taking as many as he physically could in one go. You couldn't fight back a smile that curled onto your lips at that, watching him take the stairs back down – again, two at a time.

The two of you made quick work of putting away the few actual grocery items – the beer, the baking ingredients that you had been entirely correct in assuming you already had around the bunker, and a few other things, setting the rest of the bags on the table.

Sam left for his evening with Eileen just as Dean was starting on the hot chocolate. The two of you had changed into pajamas – some adorable matching ones that, surprisingly enough, Dean himself had surprised you with – plaid pajama pants, lined with some soft, fuzzy material, and shirts with piles of gifts printed on the front, his reading I got everything I wanted for Christmas and yours reading It’s me, I’m everything – and matching slippers.

As Dean worked on the drinks, you got started on music – you'd been delighted to find another cache of records in a tucked away closet, all vintage Christmas. Your favorite discovery in the bunker thus far had been a beautiful record player, still in perfect condition, and an ever-growing collection of records to go along with it. You had just gotten one by Gene Autry going, one by Dean Martin sitting ready for when it ended, when Dean came out of the kitchen, proudly presenting two mugs of hot chocolate, complete with marshmallows that just barely fit into the mugs.

“Alright,” He grinned, that wide, boyish grin, his eyes sparkling, as he set the mugs down, rubbing his hands together. “So, we got the hot chocolate – and eggnog for later,” Admittedly, you were a bit surprised that he had the restraint to keep alcohol for a time that wasn’t right freakin’ now. “So, uh, what’s first?” Oh, there was that look on his face – that expectant but uncertain look, like he didn’t quite know what to do with himself. That much, you knew, was accurate.

“Lights,” You said matter-of-factly, a grin curling onto your own lips. “Which is probably gonna be the most annoying part.”

You could see the smile start to falter on his lips, his eyes wandering to the bags on the table. “Annoying?” He wondered. “They’re just lights, Sweetheart. ‘S gonna be fine. ‘Sides, they’re brand new. Not like they’re gonna be all tangled up.” He moved to open the first box of lights, missing the way you shook your head.

“Give them five minutes.” You warned him. "They'll be a mess."

You could hear his grin as he began opening box after box of lights – clearly, at least some thought and Googling had gone into his list, because he’d been very specific about how many boxes he thought he’d need. “Watch ‘n learn, Sweetheart, watch ‘n learn.”

So, watch ‘n learn you did.

Settling yourself on the edge of the table, mug in both hands, you watched him start on the lights – and learned, very quickly, that he had no real idea exactly how infuriating the strands of lights could really be. His face was twisted up in concentration and frustration as the lights twinkled cheerfully, spots of pale gold dancing off of his skin. The entire affair was punctuated with several muttered ‘son of a bitch’es, one ‘oh no you don’t’ as the tree began to lean to one side, and finally, finally, four songs into the record, an exasperated, “A’ight, Sweetheart, you win. Wanna come lend me a hand?”

You grinned, hopping down off of the table, setting your mug aside and moving to his side, standing on your toes to press a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll do you one better,” You teased. “Go drink your hot chocolate, and – what’d you say again, Baby? Watch ‘n learn?”

He rolled his eyes skyward, but obediently took a step back, and then another, moving back toward the table, taking a seat and picking up his own mug in one hand, picking through the bags with the other. “We still gotta wrap presents, too.” He pointed out absently. “Wanna give Sammy somethin’ that isn’t wrapped in plastic bags this time. You got wrapping paper, right?”

“Big paper bag on the floor,” You directed, examining the tree briefly. You were fairly sure Dean had to have watched a few online tutorials – your own experience with lights was something along the lines of wing it and hope they stay, whereas he had actually seemed to have an order he was doing things in. He was somewhere around halfway done with wrapping the lights around the inside of the tree, cords flush against the trunk, so you followed his lead.

You could hear him rustling through the bag behind you, and hear his snort of amusement. “Y’got Scooby Doo wrapping paper?” There was no way to mistake the sound of the smile in his voice.

“Figured I could either wrap yours in it, or you could wrap the ones you’re giving out in it,” You informed him, your own smile returning. “But I wanted to give you first dibs.” You’d reached the bottom of the tree, and, carefully winding the lights on a lower branch to keep them from slipping, started your way back up.

“Oh, I’m so usin’ it.” He said seriously. You could hear him continue to paw through the bags. “...Sweetheart. Darlin’.” He said slowly after a few moments. “How many different kinds’a ornaments do we need? Don’t think these are all gonna fit.”

You draped the lights over a branch, giving them a warning stare, as if you could intimidate them into remaining in place and not tangling further, turning around to face him. He’d taken out every plastic container of cheap Walmart ornaments, and had spread them out across the table. He was examining them like they might bite him.

“Well,” You drawled, “by the time I hit Walmart, I figured that list of yours was a wild goose chase to keep me out of the bunker for a while –” Catching your expression, he opened his mouth to protest, and you shook your head, grinning. “Don’t even. You know the kitchen like the back of your hand, Dean – you and I both know we didn’t need more vanilla.” He closed his mouth, grinning guiltily. “So I figured I’d stay out a little longer, and, uh – I kind’a went a little overboard.” Your own smile had gone a bit sheepish.

You could see his mind working, the gears turning, as he examined the spread of ornaments, before he blurted out, “Thank god for Charlie. How the hell do people afford this crap?” You couldn’t help the loud laugh that escaped at that. “No, seriously!” Dean continued, as if worried you weren’t taking his concern with the seriousness it deserved – no, demanded. “Every year we drive past houses that are all done up with this stuff, inside and out! Entire neighborhoods! And one of these boxes,” He held up one of the containers, a plastic cylinder full of red baubles, some matte, some glittery, some metallic, “is, what,” He glanced at the sticker, “ten bucks? How many’re we gonna need for the tree? Jesus. And these are from Walmart!”

At some point, you’d begun laughing in earnest, and even he couldn’t keep up his faux outrage for long, his own lips breaking into that beautiful smile of his again, his eyes sparkling in the light of the half-strung Christmas tree. He reached forward, pulling you across the last two steps that separated you, onto his lap, his lips pressing to yours.

The record had finished and the room had gone quiet by the time you finally disentangled yourself from his lap. “Go put on the next record, De. Gotta get the lights up or we’re never gonna finish.” He huffed with a childish pout, but stood, landing a playful smack to your ass as he passed.

As Dean Martin’s voice filled the room, you stood on your toes, finishing the lights as far as you could reach – Dean stepped in for the last few rounds, carefully tucking in the end of the strand. The two of you stepped back, with you checking for any gaps in the lights and admiring your work, and Dean admiring you.

Hanging the ornaments took significantly less time, though by the end of it, you were both covered in cheap green, silver, and gold glitter. Dean had broken out the eggnog and a tin of Christmas cookies Donna and Jody had sent over, and, as you put on a third record, this one Nat King Cole, the two of you settled cross-legged on the floor in front of the tree (with Dean dramatically complaining under his breath about his knees), the majority of the presents the two of you had purchased spread out between you.

You’d worked in relative silence for a time, before Dean spoke up, his voice slightly tense as he struggled with the wrapping paper and tape, struggling to make something vaguely aesthetically pleasing out of Sam's present, but his words were genuine nonetheless. “Thanks. This was… Nice.”

You glanced up, reaching for a bow to press into place on top of Claire’s gift. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He reached over, taking a long drink of his eggnog, staring down the present in front of him like one might some sort of crafty foe. “I never really got to do this before, y’know? ‘S…” He struggled for a better word for a moment, before finally repeating, “Nice.” He reached for a cookie next, taking a bite – you knew him well enough to know it was his way of deflecting from the emotions he’d just expressed.

“You’re welcome, Baby.” You leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his nose – his face wrinkled up, and he took a moment to process that, before he pulled you forward, sending presents sliding across the tile and wrapping paper rolling in every direction, his lips finding yours once more.

Everything he wanted for Christmas, indeed.

#Dean winchester x reader #dean Winchester fluff #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester fanfiction

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