#wonderland reverie

[avakkins-alter]

Wonderland Reverie | Zenless Zone Zero

[theolivetree123]

Finally posting SOMETHING so yall don't think I'm dying

(I made Silas's full body drawing like a month ago, but who cares I need ppl to see these)

I might just speed run Rev's intro bc it'll take much shorter to do than Silas's entire backstory-

And also bc I'm kinda in a Reverie mood today 🫠

Tagging moots: @bunniehunn @babyghoul138 @cheerleaderman @jadelover69 @jovieinramshackle @sunnysidesevenup @screamintoad @scint1llat3 @oya-oya-okay @offorestsongs @w1ndigo0 @prefectrose @justyouraverageuselesshuman

[allykakamatsu]

It was on this day the light music club learned that the only thing about Lilia that's scarier than his cooking... is his driving

Will I give context? Someday probably but not today-

Template and link to my Ko-Fi under cut

[feimier]

沉睡在梦境中。。。

malleus the kind of hopeless romantic that would write you letters but never sends them. Not because he does not hold the bravery required but because he prefers it that way. He thinks some things are better left unsaid and sometimes the best parts of a relationship are the sweet and innocent secrets one person may hold. Unbeknownst to him you’ve already discovered some of his dearly treasured letters one night while he was away on one of his escapades.. you can only guess at how many more darling secrets he has kept from you.

malleus who says “Goodnight, my cherished one” in fae to you every night. He thinks that it’s strange you never asked what it meant or translated to, but is content with your small smile. He wonders how the relationship would be like if you figured out the true meaning of the phrase— perhaps you might even respond to his affections.. however that is, to him, a thought bound by the night; a thought that he would only dare engage with in his dreams.

reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated! thank you for your support (^^)

[glitcheslikeslego]

the oc that i was talking about on my main blog that i just DRAG TO EVERY FANDOM I’M IN GIRLIE HOW ARE YOU ALIVEEE 😭

[amouress16]

Wonderland Reverie

[johnvenus]

Sabo in Wonderland by K164:

Link

[lightvsdark18]

I like Alice and Ruler both got thrown into a different world and had to deal with that world's problems, just to end up becoming royalty. Ruler made her own kingdom and was crowned king while Alice became the first human queen to Briar Valley.

[valy-gc]

Desire for my event Midnight Reverie :D

[reverie-starlight]

i often forget that i downloaded tears of themis a few months ago but never made it past the first couple... chapters? i forget what they’re called tbh, but idk why I never continued with it. 

anyway, i keep seeing a ton of content for it on here and also tiktok so i’m gonna try it again tonight.

[spilladabalia]

Children of Alice - Invocation of a Midsummer Reverie

[thefreakandthehair]

mistletoe.

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles | prompts: mistletoe | wc: 999 | rating: teen & up | tags: alternate universe- no upside down, alternate universe- flower shop au, eddie pov, eddie munson has a crush on steve harrington, confident!steve harrington, fluff, getting together, first kiss, background buckingham mention

It’s chaos. 

Clippings, and rogue petals, and ribbons that still need to be tied into bows as far as the eye can see. Long tables lined with crinkling plastic to protect the aged wood take up the center of the room, and somewhere off in the distance, Eddie can hear Chrissy on the phone with what sounds like a disgruntled, last-minute customer. 

“... Sir, it’s December. Most of our poinsettias have been reserved for weeks. We have two left that we can give you. You can have them, or you can—”

Eddie’s sure Chrissy’s about to kindly tell the phone stranger to go fuck himself and he couldn’t be prouder of how far she’s come, really, but he loses the thread on the conversation when Steve bustles in from the back.

“How many carnations does one middle school Winter Wonderland dance need, anyways? Are there even this many kids in the town?” In his warm, forest green jacket and black beanie with wind-flushed cheeks and rosy nose, Steve exhales and sets the box of carnations down on the counter. 

“Enough to pay the rent this month with carnations alone, apparently,” Eddie jokes, tapping Steve’s jean-clad shin with the toe of his boot. “We’ll be here all night doing these ribbons, won’t we?”

He tries to make it sound like a chore, like something he hasn’t been looking forward to since Chrissy told them she had a date and couldn’t stay. Any amount of alone time with Steve is welcome, even if it means tying tiny bows on small carnations and pricking his finger a hundred times with the stupid little pins. 

“Probably, yeah,” Steve shrugs with a smile. “It’s not so bad though, right?” 

“Not at all.” Eddie bites the inside of his cheek to keep from beaming. 

When Chrissy wraps up her part— invoices, confirmations, and all of the paperwork shit that Eddie and Steve are better off leaving to Chrissy— she practically skips out of the office with a wave and a smirk. 

“You do know that if she and Robin hit it off, this is gonna be a regular thing, right?” Eddie jokes, hoisting himself up to sit on one of the tables and grabbing a ribbon to wrap around another flower. 

“Robin hasn’t stopped talking about Chrissy for months. This is going to be our life, Ed. Mark my words.” Steve laughs with Eddie’s favorite crooked smile, the one that only ever seems to be targeted at him. 

He tries not to let Steve’s phrasing dig its claws too deep into his lovestruck brain, but our life wiggles its way in regardless. 

Eddie looks around and takes in all of the fine details— a half-eaten bag of plain chips, two cans of coke, carnations and ribbons strewn about in somewhat orderly piles. Chrissy left the radio on when she left, the station alternating between the top hits and classic holiday songs, and Steve bobs his head to Wham!’s Last Christmas. 

This could be their life; not just the tumultuous riptide of highs and lows, but all of the mundane minutiae in between. 

Eddie and Steve. 

EddieandSteve. 

“You okay? Stab your thumb again?” Steve asks, tearing Eddie from his reverie. 

“Yes, and actually, yes,” Eddie laughs, breathy through his nose, and wipes his thumb on his jeans. Before Steve can grab his hand and check him over, and probably push Eddie over the edge into doing something incredibly fucking stupid in the process, he brushes it off. “It’s fine. Let's get these bitches done.”

Hours pass, quickly and comfortably, and they eventually tie their last ribbon. 

“We did it, Jesus H. Christ,” Eddie celebrates, hopping off of the table and tossing the last carnation into the box. “Do you still have skin on your fingers? I don’t think I have fingerprints anymore.” 

“Now would be the time to go commit some crimes,” Steve snorts, his nose wrinkling, and Eddie wants to kiss him right on the mouth. “Before you head out though, I uh, I think we forgot one. Close your eyes for a second.” 

“What?” 

“Just close your eyes? Please?”

Eddie does as Steve asks because he’s helpless to not, his brows knitting together in confusion because closed eyes. He hears rustling and the sound of scissors snipping ribbon. What’s so special about this carnation? What’s so secretive that Eddie has to close his eyes and miss valuable alone time with Steve? Doesn’t Steve get it? Every second with his eyes closed are seconds he doesn’t get to stare. 

Steve’s stool slides against the tile floor, scraping as Eddie feels Steve standing closer. Close enough that he can feel Steve’s breath against him when he says, “Okay, open your eyes.”

In front of him is Steve Harrington, his favorite smile, and wide, hesitant eyes holding a hastily tied together bundle of mistletoe just above their heads. 

“I know it’s not Christmas yet or anything, but I couldn’t wait.” 

“You’re not fucking with me?” Eddie asks, heart clattering in his chest as hope gouges its way out of its deepest recesses. 

“Definitely not. I really like you, maybe more, and I know I didn’t have to wait for some big moment but tonight, just the two of us, it felt right. If I’m wrong, I’ll chuck this in the garbage and we can never bring it up again but—”

Eddie launches himself at Steve, both arms wrapping around Steve’s neck. 

Maybe he should’ve taken it slower— maybe their first kiss should’ve been patient, tender— but he’ll have other opportunities to show him the softness he deserves. Instead, Eddie kisses Steve just like he’s fallen in love with him: spontaneously, impulsively, urgently. Steve drops the thicket of branches and pulls him in closer, one hand balling the edge of Eddie’s shirt up in a fist by his hip and the other cupping the back of Eddie’s head, meeting his intensity wordlessly. 

Through the murky daze of Steve’s lips against his, Eddie hopes that this is their life. 

[theolivetree123]

◇ Reverie's Intro ◇

*Please note that all secondary characters will not have audios in their voice claims and shorter bios!*

More info below !

◇ Basic Info ◇

Age: 19

Height: 190cm

Birthday: November 22nd

Sexuality: Omnisexual, Demiboy

Nicknames: Rev (most people at RSA), Daydream (Malleus), Revvy (Neige)

Dominant Hand: Right

Dorm: Luminstelle (my fan dorm)

Grade: 3rd year (Junior)

Favorite Food: Sugar cookies

Least Favorite Food: Onions

Likes: Magic tricks, dogs, goats, stars

Dislikes: Dishonesty, bitter foods

Hobbies: Star gazing, learning magic tricks, astrology

Homeland: Shaftlands

Family: Unnamed father and mother, unnamed younger sister

◇ Signature Spell ◇

You're a Star!

Allows the user to grant a power boost to whoever they want. While in this state, the "starstruck" (the person with the powers) gains some of Reverie's powers. This spell lasts for 3 hours.

◇ Backstory ◇

Reverie was always an optimistic boy. He always wanted to help people, and this feeling only heightened when he enrolled at RSA. Since he was the son of the headmage, Rev thought that it'd be easy to spread hope to all, but he soon found out that his goal would be a lot harder to reach. During his first year, Rev found out that there were quite a lot of snobby rich kids who got into RSA. He tried his best to whip them into shape, but he was only scolded by his father. Soon after, Rev was taught to just stand aside. "People make their own decisions, and whether they're good or bad is up to them." His father said. Reverie only frowned. It felt unfair and wrong for all these mean people to be in a school for the heroic and kind.

Throughout Reverie's time at RSA, he was told time and time again to do nothing. To just step aside and let the adults handle it. Yet, Reverie refused to listen and made it his life goal to help the needy and learn to grant wishes. In his spare time, Reverie would study and study, hoping that he'd find a way to spread kindness throughout twisted wonderland.

Reverie's biology is very interesting, as well. He is half fae, and his energy comes from his "glow." It's a diamond shaped hole on his chest that radiates light. It's Rev's source of power and energy, and without it, Rev could possibly die. Along with this, Rev has freckles that glow when he gets embarrassed or extremely angry.

These strange traits made Reverie an anomaly amongst most faes, as powers like his never appeared in either of his bloodlines. He was a first of his kind in the Daydream family. Reverie's father said he got his glow from the stars as a gift, but Reverie still wants to learn more about himself and why he was born with this glow.

◇ Relationships ◇

♡ Malleus: Reverie and Malleus used to have a pretty strained relationship since everyone assumed the two were rivals, and Rev's father wanted him to be the ruler of Briar Valley. But Reverie had a lot of respect for Malleus, and while he was stargazing, Malleus got curious and decided to join him. The two became good friends afterward, and after a couple more meetups, Reverie decided to show Malleus his glow. Malleus became intrigued and decided to make Rev his sort of "test subject."

Neige: Reverie and Neige are very good friends. The two hang out nearly every day and even share their secrets with each other. Neige has seen Reverie's glow, and Neige loves it. Neige thinks Rev is the coolest for having such brilliant powers and being so kind.

◇ Relationship Chart ◇

◇ Gallery ◇

^ Reverie's glow ^

[ms-snape]

Yule Ball (Young!Remus lupin x reader)

request: not really a request acutally, just something i wrote at litteramly 3am

Summary: Remus Lupin asked Y/N to the Yule Ball with the help of his friends, but his night took a sour turn when he turned to alcohol to mask his nerves, leading to a misunderstanding with Y/N.

Warning: Alcohol, a bit of angst, happy ending, marauders era

Word Count: 1390

Masterlist

---

Hogwarts Castle was alive with anticipation as the Yule Ball approached. Snowflakes danced outside the tall, arched windows, blanketing the grounds in pristine white. Inside, students buzzed with excitement, discussing dresses, dates, and the music that would soon fill the Great Hall. Remus Lupin, however, found himself lost in thought, his gaze drifting to a girl across the room.

“Oi, Moony!” Sirius’s voice broke through his reverie. “Stop daydreaming and join us! We’ve got a plan!”

Remus blinked, pulled from his thoughts of Y/N—the girl who had captivated his attention for months. He turned to see Sirius, James, and Peter huddled together, their faces alight with mischief. “What plan?” he asked hesitantly, a knot of anxiety tightening in his stomach.

“Simple! You need to ask her to the Ball!” James exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “We’ll help you out.”

Remus’s heart raced at the thought. “What if she says no?” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

“Don’t be a prat,” Sirius chided, slapping him on the back. “You won’t know until you try. Besides, you’ve got us.”

With a deep breath, Remus nodded. “Alright. I’ll do it.”

“Good! We’ll be right here, cheering you on,” Peter piped up, a nervous grin spreading across his face.

The four of them made their way to the common room, where Y/N sat, her laughter ringing out as she chatted with her friends. Remus’s palms grew sweaty, and his heart pounded in his chest.

“Just go for it!” James whispered, nudging him forward.

With a final nod of encouragement from his friends, Remus approached Y/N, trying to ignore the fluttering in his stomach. “Um, hey, Y/N?”

She looked up, her smile brightening the dimly lit room. “Hey, Remus! What’s up?”

“Would you, um, would you like to go to the Yule Ball with me?” he blurted, his cheeks flushing.

For a moment, time seemed to stretch. Y/N’s eyes widened, and then she broke into a grin. “I’d love to!”

Relief washed over him, followed by a wave of excitement. “Great! I mean, awesome!”

As the evening of the Ball approached, Remus’s excitement began to wane, replaced by nerves. His friends had concocted a plan to help him “relax” before the big night.

“Just one drink, Moony,” Sirius insisted, pouring a golden liquid into a glass. “It’ll loosen you up. You can’t go in all shy and awkward.”

“Yeah, it’s just a little fun,” Peter added, his eyes hopeful.

Remus hesitated, glancing at the glass. “I don’t know, guys. I’m not sure…”

“Just trust us. We want you to have a good time,” James urged, nudging the glass closer.

With a resigned sigh, Remus took the glass and downed it in one gulp. The warmth spread through him, igniting an unexpected confidence. “Okay, maybe just one more.”

Hours later, the Great Hall was transformed into a winter wonderland, sparkling with twinkling lights and shimmering decorations. Remus entered with his friends, feeling a bit unsteady but exhilarated. His eyes scanned the room until they landed on Y/N, who looked breathtaking in a deep blue gown that flowed around her like liquid silk.

“Hey, Y/N!” he called out, striding over with an exaggerated swagger that felt foreign to him.

“Remus!” she greeted, her face lighting up. “You look… different.”

“Different good, I hope?” he shot back, grinning widely.

“Definitely,” she laughed, though her eyes narrowed slightly, as if sensing something was off.

The music began to play, and Remus took her hand, leading her to the dance floor. As they began to sway together, he felt a rush of energy coursing through him, emboldened by the alcohol. He spun her around, his laughter echoing around them.

“Wow, you’re really getting into it,” Y/N said, her smile bright but her expression shifting to confusion.

“Yeah, just letting loose!” he said with a wink, channeling his inner Sirius.

But as the night wore on, Remus’s bravado started to falter. He could feel Y/N’s energy diminish, her laughter softening, as if she were withdrawing.

“Remus…” she began, her brow furrowing slightly. “Are you alright? You seem a bit… off.”

“I’m great!” he exclaimed, perhaps a little too loudly. “Just having a blast!”

She raised an eyebrow, her expression shifting from amusement to concern. “Are you sure? You smell like—”

“Like what?” he interrupted, laughing too hard to be convincing.

“Like alcohol,” she finished, her tone now serious.

His laughter faded, replaced by a creeping sense of dread. “Oh, uh… maybe just a bit?” He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to regain his composure.

Y/N’s smile faltered, and in that moment, Remus saw the truth in her eyes: she was disappointed. “You didn’t drink to get through the night, did you?”

“No! I mean, yes, but…” He struggled for words, the reality of the situation crashing down on him. “I just wanted to enjoy the night, Y/N. I thought it’d help.”

Her expression hardened, and she took a step back. “I thought you wanted to be here with me, not as someone else.”

Remus felt a pang of regret, realizing how his friends’ well-meaning intentions had backfired. “I do want to be here with you! I just… I didn’t want to mess up.”

“Then why not just be yourself?” she asked, her voice softening but still laced with disappointment.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his heart racing. “I thought if I was more confident—”

“More like Sirius?” she interjected, crossing her arms. “That’s not you, Remus.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat. She was right; he’d let the alcohol transform him into someone he wasn’t. “Can we just—”

“I think I need to go,” she interrupted, her voice steady yet strained.

“Y/N, wait—” he called after her, but she was already weaving through the crowd, her figure disappearing into the throng of students.

Frustration bubbled inside him as he turned to find his friends, who were still reveling in the dance. “What were you thinking?” he shouted, his voice rising above the music.

“Hey, Moony! You were fantastic!” Sirius cheered, oblivious to the storm brewing in his friend’s heart.

“Fantastic? I just ruined everything!” Remus snapped, his fists clenching at his sides. “She thinks I used alcohol to get through the night!”

“Wait, you did?” James asked, genuine confusion in his eyes. “I thought you were just having fun.”

“Fun? I was trying to impress her, not be a drunken fool!” Remus shot back, pushing through the crowd toward the exit.

“Moony, wait! We were just trying to help!” Peter called after him, but Remus didn’t stop. He stormed back to the Gryffindor common room, his emotions swirling like the snow outside.

Inside the cozy space, he paced, anger and regret twisting in his gut. How could he have let himself be swayed by his friends? The night he had looked forward to for weeks had turned into a disaster.

The door creaked open, and a moment later, Y/N stepped inside, her eyes searching the room. Relief and dread washed over him simultaneously.

“Y/N…” he began, but she held up a hand to stop him.

“I just wanted to say… I’m sorry for leaving like that. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just—” She took a breath, her voice steadying. “I wanted to enjoy the night with you, not this… version of you.”

“I know,” he admitted, feeling the weight of her disappointment. “I messed up. I thought maybe if I was more confident, I could be someone you’d like.”

Y/N stepped closer, her expression softening. “I like you, Remus. But I like the real you, not this… flirty facade.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, his voice earnest. “I promise, I’ll be myself next time.”

She smiled, the tension in her shoulders easing. “Next time?”

“Definitely. If you’ll still have me,” he said, hope creeping into his voice.

“Of course,” she said, her smile widening. “But just be you, alright?”

“Deal,” he replied, relief flooding through him.

As they stood together in the warm glow of the common room, Remus felt the connection between them grow stronger. The Yule Ball hadn’t gone as planned, but it had led him to something better: a chance to truly be himself with her.

Outside, the snow continued to fall, blanketing the ground in silence, as if in agreement with the promise of a new beginning.

[ninibeingdelulu]

I’m sorry

synopsis: he forgot your birthday, so he apologizes in his own way

a/n: i wish re2 leon was real :((

The apartment you share with Leon is utterly unrecognizable when you finally drag yourself through the doorway well past sundown.

What typically greets you is a spartan, almost militaristic level of bare minimalism thanks to your boyfriend's by-the-book personality and rigorous hours with the RPD.

But this evening? The entire open-concept living space has been transformed into what can only be described as a veritable birthday wonderland - complete with vibrant streamers zig-zagging across every available surface and those ridiculously oversized metallic balloons bobbing precariously from every corner.

You halt mid-stride, mouth literally agape as you drink in the burst of kaleidoscope colors and thoughtful homespun decor adorning the length of the kitchen countertops as well.

A deliciously decadent layered cake topped with your favorite indulgent frosting blend...an assortment of neatly wrapped packages in that signature sky-blue wrapping paper you always tease Leon for using at every gift-giving occasion...even a chilled bottle of your go-to celebratory bubbly chilling beside a fresh bouquet of your most beloved flora.

The sheer tenderness of this entire scene hits you like a sucker-punch straight to the solar plexus - eyes stinging with unshed tears even before finally trailing towards the center of the room.

There slouched on the sofa with elbows braced on splayed knees and face cradled in his upturned palms sits Leon himself in a pose of utter guilt-ridden dejection.

"Leon..." You haven't even stepped fully inside yet before his name slips past your lips - instantly shattering whatever uncomfortable reverie he'd been absorbed in brooding towards the floor.

Those endlessly soulful icicle-blue irises you've always adored finally lift to meet yours with the weight of a thousand apologies shining within their stormy depths.

"Hey, doll..."

God, he does sound like a lost puppy while using that feather-soft endearment you normally melt over.

"Look, I...I know I massively forgot your birthday yesterday and I—"

"Leon, you really didn't have to—"

"No, no. Please...just...lemme get this out while I'm on a roll here?"

He interjects quickly, palms lifting in a placating gesture before the briefest quirk of boyish insecurity tugs at the corner of his sensuous mouth.

"I'm not always the best at expressing myself the way I should, but that never means the important stuff gets overlooked or taken for granted...not with you."

The sincerity reverberating through every syllable sends your pulse into an erratic staccato against the hollow of your throat as Leon rises languidly to his full towering height and begins stalking towards where you linger.

There's an undeniably intent yet hopelessly tender hunger now darkening his eyes into bottomless pools of stormy silver. Paradoxically pinning you in place while simultaneously setting your insides ablaze...

"You're the most important person in my entire world, y/n...the reason I wake up fighting each morning and the thought I cling to whenever everything feels hopeless."

Leon murmurs - now near enough you can taste the subtle citrus zing of his aftershave mingling with the adrenaline roaring in your ears.

"Nothing and no one will ever make me lose sight of how goddamn priceless you are to me again...not when you're the sole force keeping this old cop's battered heart from completely shattering apart."

And with his final confession, those rough palms you've spent countless blissful hours mapping finally settle upon your waist while he leans in and just barely brushes the plush seal of his lips over yours in a tantalizing preview of what's to come once you've both recovered from this initial swell of unbridled emotion.

"So how's about we celebrate your birthday properly this time around, sweetheart?"

You can actually feel the rumbling timbre vibrating from Leon's chest straight to your molten core as he seals his vow with a bruising, breathtaking kiss destined to leave you utterly drunk and delirious for hours to come...

[foli-vora]

masterlist | foli jolly xmas list

A/N: gif by moi. Yeah I recycled the same from part 2 idc. Are you telling me it's been two fucking years since I wrote this? Get out. The flow of time is fake. Everything was against me this week trying to get this fucking thing out but I finally got there! Merry late Christmas, angels! Thank you all for being so fucking wonderful and supportive and patient with me while I worked out a really messy year and I wish you all nothing but the very best! Enjoy x

Word count: just shy of 7k

Warnings: cheesy hallmark romance, I want to be kissed by a cowboy under the mistletoe. Swearing, this hot af man, a solid semi-public make out sesh with said hot af man, SOFTNESS! so much fucking softness I want to throw up, smut with all the feels 18+ ONLY: soft and sweet and so fucking tender I'm so into it, fingering, oral (f rec), this man practically makes out with pussy and I won't hear otherwise, bit of hair pulling, mention of the implanon, unprotected p in v and a christmas creampie yay

PART ONE | PART TWO

It’s quite the occasion, he finds. This Christmas Eve ball-party thing. The whole town and more is there, crammed into the town hall decorated heavily with tinsel and lights and spilling out onto the snowy grounds around in the form of various food and Christmas stalls. There are craft tables full of parents with their kids, a little choir singing carols, and people having a snowman contest in the taped off carpark.

There’s an older man dressed as Santa sitting on a big seat for family photos, joyfully laughing and ho-ho-hoing as kids wander by in awe. Jack watches on comfortably, not yet interested in pursuing any of the stalls or food until he knows if you and the kids have eaten.

Despite his general dislike of the holiday, it’s hard to not feel… well, merry, and it has a content smile tugging at his lips. If Tequila could see him now, he’d never let him live it down. He’d get matching Christmas ties or some other ridiculous shit. Maybe there’s somewhere he could buy one for the agent here, he’s sure you’d find that funny.

“That’s not the real Santa,” Gabe says suddenly, appearing beside him.

Jack startles from being broken from his mental reverie, briefly wondering if a couple of weeks worth of leave had gone and ruined his well tuned Statesman senses. Champ would only have himself to blame. He turns expectantly, heart hammering wildly from the hope you’d be only a few paces behind your boy, but when he looks he finds you nowhere to be seen.

Gabe continues, oblivious to the way Jack shifts and deflates next to him.

“The real one’s too busy, so he gets George to step in. He does it every year.”

“Is that right? Suppose he would be a busy man.”

“Are you kidding? One night to get around the whole world? Dude’s insane.”

Jack grins, looking down at the boy and noting his styled hair. “You’re lookin’ sharp tonight, kid. You brush your hair?”

“Mum made me,” Gabe grumbles, ruffling his neatened curls with a thick gloved hand. “She’s in the hall with Lou, if you were wondering.”

“And why would I be wonderin’ that?”

The boy gives him a look, something bordering the line of smug and Jack rolls his eyes, giving him a gentle shove. Jesus, even the damn kid knows.

“Cut it out.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“You didn’t have to. Now go on, lead the way. And stop lookin’ at me like that, or I’ll tell the big guy you need to go on the naughty list this year.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I would. Believe me. You think he doesn’t know about you hustlin’ me out of my hard earned money? You’re messin’ with fire, kid. You’re probably already on it.”

—

“Should’ve gotten more lights. I told him, you know.” Edith tuts to herself, frowning up at the hall ceiling.

You briefly pause from fussing over the cake competition table and glance up at the warm fairy lights dangled and intertwined between tinsel and garlands. She’s worrying over nothing, as always. Every year it’s a winter wonderland—inside and out, and this year is certainly no different. Has Jack seen it all yet? What does he think of it?

“Edith, any more lights and people would need sunglasses in here. Everything looks wonderful, as always. Now please relax and have some rum with your eggnog before your heart gives out. You don’t need to worry about anything tonight, leave it to the committee.”

“The only thing I’ll worry about is you not getting on top of that cowboy.”

You and me both, Edith.

You snort, directing your attention back to the cake stands and ensuring every label was front and centre. “On second thought, maybe stay away from the rum.”

“Speaking of the cowboy, here he comes. Fix your dress.”

“What’s wrong with my dress?”

It’s too late to worry, that southern drawl melts into your ears as he jokes about something with Gabe within the next few seconds and suddenly your insides are twisting and turning upside down. You play around with the table some more, gathering up a bit of courage before turning and smiling at Jack.

“Hi,” you breathe softly, cheeks already warming as his eyes meet yours.

Does this man ever not look like pure sin?

“Hey sugar,” he greets with a grin of his own. “You look incredible.”

“Oh, this old thing?” You tease, running a hand over the brand new dress you had painstakingly agonised over in an attempt to impress a stranger only in town for a few weeks. You’d spent an admittedly ridiculous amount of time in the local boutique trying and retrying dresses trying to find the right one. God, he doesn’t need to know that. “Not looking too bad yourself, cowboy.”

“Save a dance for me, won’t you, Jack?” Edith rasps sweetly, acting the innocent and delicate elderly lady and tapping his arm softly.

“Just try and stop me, ma’am.”

She wanders off into the crowds, more than happy to be stopped along her way to be praised on the decorations. She’s still going on about the damn lights.

“So what’s all this?” Jack asks in interest, body brushing yours as he steps up beside you to eye the table.

“It’s the yearly Christmas bake off, which I unfortunately have to judge as the town's resident baker.”

“Unfortunately?”

“I don’t like judging people's creations. They’re all wonderful and everyone always puts so much effort into it… makes me feel like a villain when I have to pick winners.”

Gabe steps up on your other side and eyes this year's entries. “Mum made a kid cry last year.”

Jack laughs in surprise. “What?”

“I didn’t know it was made by a child, okay?” You stress, rubbing along your brow line as last year's nightmare plays in your mind. After pinning the ribbons in place, a ten year old girl had promptly fallen into tears after not being given one, and you’d felt guilty about it for fucking weeks after. “If I had known, I would’ve picked them.”

“Well that defeats the purpose of it being a competition then, doesn’t it, sugar? You can’t pick a winner just because they’re a kid. I’m sure they knew that upon enterin’.” His hand runs comforting strokes up and down your middle back, entirely innocent, and yet your skin feels like fire beneath his hot palm.

“I think that one is the ugliest.”

Excellent timing, baby.

You sigh, “Gabriel—”

“Ah sugar, I gotta give it to the kid,” Jack drawls, eyes locked on the cake Gabe’s finger levelled at, “I’m thinkin’ it, too.”

“Well… obviously,” you agree quietly, discreetly looking around just in case its creator is somewhere lurking close by, “but we don’t say that out loud. That’s something we keep in our heads, okay?” Your gaze darts between them until they give a nod in agreement.

It’s quiet for a moment longer, Jack’s hand never once straying from your back or ceasing its gentle strokes as you each silently judge each cake, until Gabe smacks his lips and shrugs.

“They definitely lose.”

“Gabriel.”

A little body squeezes itself between you and Gabe, and your hand automatically falls to rest on Lou’s head. She’s quiet, happily making her way through a gingerbread cookie and swaying to the music being performed by the town's little local band when Jack peers curiously around you, smiling indulgently at the little girl.

“There you are, sweetheart. Was worried you didn’t make it tonight, thought I was gonna have to dance by myself.”

She grins shyly, hiding her face in the long length of your dress and forgetting about the half eaten treat in her hand. You don’t blame her, Jack definitely has that effect on people. 

“Will you dance with me, little lady?”

Lou peeks up at Jack from under her lashes. It takes only a minute until she gives a small nod before pressing the cookie into your hold and reaching out to take his large hand in her much smaller one. He gently spins her as he leads her to the dance floor, and her giggles as her bright red tulle dress flows around her can be heard from over the crowds.

You watch them go with a content smile, before moving your gaze to Gabe.

“Would it be totally lame for you to be seen dancing with your mama?” You ask him softly, brushing a hand over his hair. All the kids from his school are here, and you know he’s starting to reach that age where others' opinions may sway his decisions on things. He still lets you hug him at school drop off and pick up though, so maybe you still have a bit of time.

He gives you a toothy grin, looping his arm through yours and pressing into your side. “I don’t care.”

—

It’s hours later when you finally get him selfishly to yourself, once Lou had promptly fallen asleep on your thick winter coat spread over some chairs in the corner and Gabe had been whisked away to a snowball fight with the other kids. Jack had approached after your yearly duty had been completed with thankfully no one falling into tears, and asked you to dance.

You don’t usually dance. Not properly, anyway. Swinging the kids around and twirling them under your arm while they giggle and jump along is one thing, but this? Tucked up close to someone and trying not to trample on their toes? You haven’t done this in a long time. 

Jack doesn’t seem to mind, and with the feel of him pressed up against you? You don’t care if you seem a little awkward. It gives you both a chance to talk, and without interruptions. You ask more about his work, his life, which he seems to still not want to divulge in as much as you had hoped. He does tell you a little more about himself though, what he enjoys during his limited free time and that he’s starting to realise he doesn’t get away from work as much as he probably should.

“Maybe you should invest in a holiday cabin,” you tease, head tilting in a playful manner as you sway between the other locals crowding the hall. “I’ve heard they’re pretty popular to rent out when you don’t need it.”

“That’s not a bad idea, darlin’. Know any good locations?”

“Nowhere local, I’m afraid. You don’t fit in.”

He makes a low noise of understanding, pushing you softly away only for him to spin you under his arm and drag you right back up against him. You’re fucking giddy at the movement.

“Too handsome?”

“Too much of a grinch.”

“Hey now, that’s not fair. I ate a candy cane.”

“And I heard you singing along to a Christmas song, too.”

“Me? I would never,” he responds gruffly, but when his gaze slides to meet yours he grins. “It’s your fault, sugar. What’re you doin’ to me?”

“Working my Christmas magic.”

Christmas magic? Is that what you’re calling this? He feels like a damn school boy, twirling a pretty girl around at a winter dance. He quite likes it. Working at the office and back to back missions have filled his days sure, but there’s a slight tug of loneliness he hasn’t quite been able to hide with distractions for a long time. It feels damn nice to finally soothe that.

His eyes dance across your face, the hand splayed on your lower back tightening and bringing you in impossibly closer. “You’re workin’ some kind of magic, that's for damn sure.”

Holy shit. Heat immediately flares beneath your skin and spreads across your cheeks, biting sharply at your ears. What a smooth bastard. You fight the urge to shyly curl in on yourself, instead letting your grin widen in amusement as you trail your hand from his shoulder to the base of his neck. 

“Is that right?” You ask softly, fingers gently twisting and carding through the small patch of hair you could reach from under his stetson. He likes that, you discover quickly, catching the way his eyes drop to your lips the second your nails scratch lightly over his skin. Noted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, cowboy.”

His chest heaves with a sigh, his lips never losing that charming upturn. 

Shaking his head at your playful antics, he coaxes you to rest your head on his shoulder with a rumbled, “C’mere,” and it’s impossible not to melt into a fucking puddle right then and there. Thank god he’s got a good hold on you. He thinks you’re working magic? Then what the hell is this?

“You can’t do that. It’s not fair.”

“Do what?” His drawl rumbles into your body from the close proximity and settles thickly in the pit of your stomach. You feel the slightest brush of lips over the shell of your ear and fight the urge to shiver. 

“That. This.”

You’re so incredibly aware of him, of every move and touch. It’s overwhelming, maddening, and you want so much more. He absolutely knows what he’s doing, feels the way you’re practically jelly in his hold. His lips press into the side of your head before his breath ghosts your ear again, and this time you can’t fight the tremble when he speaks lowly.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, sugar.”

Air. You fucking need air.

Jack must feel the same, or at least know what you need, because as soon as you pull away to meet his eyes, he’s giving you one of those heart achingly handsome smiles and gently leading you through the people towards the doors. The night air nips at your uncovered skin, cooling the heated feel of it and thankfully bringing some clarity to your mind. 

Any more of that low honey drawl in your ear and mouth watering aftershave sinking into your nostrils and you would’ve absolutely made a fool out of yourself in front of your friends and neighbours. The last thing you need is to be the topic of town gossip for mounting a tourist right in the middle of the bloody dancefloor.

The few steps are thankfully clear of people when you tread just outside of the hall doors, with the late hour bringing most of the remaining people inside as the temperature drops. The food trucks and stalls had been mostly dismantled and packed away, those remaining still working away before the snow comes in and otherwise ignoring you and Jack lingering on the steps.

You feel the slight tingle of nerves all of a sudden, which is ridiculous considering the amount of time you’ve spent with him recently. Maybe it’s because this is your first time properly alone, without the kids running around and without having to say goodbye. You have time to just be, to enjoy his company and not have to worry about interruptions.

“Forgive me for sayin’ so, sugar,” Jack murmurs, halting your train of thought and bringing your attention fully to him, “but I can’t help but notice—that looks an awful lot like mistletoe up there.”

You fight the immediate tug pulling at the edges of your lips and glance up to where he points, spying the familiar cream bulbs amongst a sprig of fresh green leaves wrapped neatly in a small red bow.

“I believe you’re right, cowboy.”

“Now hear me out… I know I ain’t big on this whole festive season thing, but I figure it’d be mighty rude of me to break a well loved tradition.”

“I agree,” you breathe in reply, eyes falling to where his lips morph into an indulgent smile before snapping back up to meet his warm brown eyes. They’re soft, radiating with such a sweet tenderness that you feel it deep in your chest.

A warm hand cups the side of your throat softly, his thumb brushing your jaw delicately and it’s ever so easy to lean into the touch and relish in the comfort it provides. Your breath seems to hold as he moves in, stepping closer until you feel the brush of his jacket against your torso through the thin material of your dress. He holds for a moment, seemingly content to let his gaze roll along your features before he gives another little smile.

“Would you mind, darlin’?”

Returning his smile is automatic—it simply can’t be helped.

“Not at all, Jack.”

The tickle of his moustache and tender press of his soft lips is nothing short of perfection. You don’t feel the bite of the cold, you don’t hear the music and the laughter and the constant roll of chatter from the hall. It’s just him. Just Jack. It’s all Jack. 

He pulls away far too soon, and you merely make a low noise of denial before curling your fingers into his shirt and pulling him gently back for more. He indulges you with a throaty chuckle, lips returning to yours with a little more pressure, a little more wanting. This time his tongue ever so slightly comes to trace your lips, and they part immediately, the kiss deepening until you feel the effects of it right down to your toes. 

If you thought you were in trouble before, you don’t stand a chance now. The faint traces of peppermint still linger on his tongue and you chase the taste eagerly, stomach in knots when an arm curls around your body to bring you flush against his. Though you’re lost in the feel and taste of him, Jack remains aware of the goings on around you both and inwardly curses the sound of people nearing the door inside of the hall.

Words are mumbled against your lips. 

“Darlin’, is there somewhere we can go a little more private?”

He’s not quite finished with you yet, and he’ll be damned if anyone’s cutting this short. Your boy included. He’s a great kid and all, but not the best with his damn timing. You don’t even realise your hands have wandered, finding a home on his hips and fisting desperately at his shirt.

Private? There’s nowhere private in this town, especially here. The hall is practically the centre of it. There’s out the back, you suppose, where the dumpsters are. It’ll have to do, because you need more of those lips preferably as soon as fucking possible. 

You snatch his hand and start leading the way, the icy air nipping at your arms. 

“Is there nowhere inside? You’ll catch your death out here,” Jack speaks behind you with a tinge of concern as you lead him down the steps and around the building. 

“Guess you’ll have to keep me warm, then.”

“I got no problems with that, sugar, believe me, but still—”

There’s rustling, his hand pulling softly out of yours and then the cover of something heavy and warm, smelling distinctly of that intoxicating cologne that has your mouth watering, over your shoulders. You shift in his jacket, smiling at the typical chivalry that seems to come so naturally from him.

Jack eyes your surroundings when you eventually get around the building, not exactly pleased by the thought of not being able to give you the romantic environment you deserve, but he can’t see or hear anyone in close range and that’s damn good enough for him. He sweeps you into his arms, grinning at your little sharp cry of surprise and crowds you into the wall, his jacket saving your thinly covered shoulders from rubbing against the rough brick facade.

Settling back against the building with a smile of your own, you blink sweetly up at him and tilt your head in playful curiosity. “Is there something I can help you with, cowboy?”

“Yes, darlin’, as a matter of fact there is.”

His hot breath sweeps over your lips and they part in anticipation, your heart beating heavily in your chest as his nose brushes along your own. He drags it out, teasingly pulling away at the last second when you get only centimetres away from his lips and grinning when you make a low noise of impatience.

“Did you need somethin’, sugar?” He drawls deeply, warm brown eyes hooded as they flick between your eyes and lips.

“Oh, shut up,” you groan softly, tangling your fingers into the front of his shirt and tugging him forward. His mouth slants messily over yours, a sudden tangle of tongue and teeth, and you can’t help but moan softly at the overwhelming intensity of it.

A sound that has the power to be his entire fucking undoing, he finds as it ricochets through his ears and right to the very core of him.

Gone is the tender moment of before, cuddled under mistletoe and filled with the warmth of something sweet and unknown. He presses into you fully, firmly, his body pinning you to the wall and giving you the chance of feeling dip and curve of him. His hands grab at your waist, fingers digging roughly into your skin and you curl into him even further, your own hands finding and clutching at his broad shoulders.

You’re left panting against the side of the building when you eventually part, the sound of shouts and laughter off in the distance cutting through the dizzying haze that had fallen over your mind. Jack’s no better, clearly struggling to regulate his own breathing as he braces himself against the wall with his palms, effectively caging you in.

One shared glance and you both dissolve into quiet laughter, either the kiss or the cold bringing a charming pink tinge to Jack’s cheeks, which you trace softly with icy fingers.

“I think the snow’s about to come in, I should get the kids home. Are you still okay to give us a ride?”

“Of course, but I’ll uh… I’ll catch up with you, sugar. I’m gonna need a minute.”

—

Despite the obvious exhaustion hanging in the kid’s limbs, he does a damn good job of fighting the call of sleep long enough to set up for the big visit. Cookies that absolutely had to be presented on a christmas tree dish, a glass of cold milk and nine individual carrots. When Jack asks if using the whole bag was necessary, Gabe levels him with an unimpressed glare.

“One carrot isn’t enough for nine reindeer.”

“That’s a fair point.”

“Will you still be here in the morning?”

Jack casts a glance towards the kitchen, where he can hear you washing the cups that were used for hot chocolate upon getting home. “Uh, probably not, kid.”

Gabe deflates with a quiet oh, his face falling into a little frown. He shifts on his feet, gaze moving from the twinkling Christmas tree to Jack before stepping closer and wrapping his arms around the man. Jack holds still, not exactly sure how to take the sudden sweet affection from the boy whose love language was calling him lame and taking his money.

“Well, Merry Christmas, Jack,” the boy mumbles into his chest, and Jack swallows the sudden feel of something building in the back of his throat as he returns the embrace. 

“Merry Christmas, kid,” he rasps quietly, hand stroking through the hat flattened curls on the back of his head. 

“Alright mister, time to hit the hay.”

Gabe releases his hold as you reenter the room and nods, giving Jack one last smile before making his way to the stairs. You follow behind him, stopping him on the third step and spinning him softly to face you.

“Did you brush your teeth?”

“Yes mum,” he sighs dramatically, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling and back.

Grinning, you fix his baggy pyjama top and plant a kiss on his cheek. “And what about your Christmas wish?”

“I don’t need to make it anymore,” he shrugs, and you recoil in surprise. “My wish has been the same for ages, and I think it’s coming true now.”

“Oh?” You frown in curiosity, brushing a stray curl from his forehead. He’s never told you what he wishes for, so the fact he thinks it’s suddenly coming true has you wondering what it could be. “Can I ask what it is?”

“Nope,” he grins, casting one final glance towards Jack before giving you a cuddle and starting back up the stairs. “Night mum.”

You watch him go with a look of interest, listening to the creak of his bedroom door as he closes it behind him. Did he somehow know he was getting a new iPad? Did he find it stashed away before you could wrap it? Damn, you thought you hid it so well. 

“He’s a real good kid,” Jack says from where he lounges against the doorframe of the living room. “They both are.”

“I know,” you smile.

The conversation echoes the one you had when he first came over, and the memory isn’t lost on Jack either as he grins in return. 

“I had a good time tonight, sugar. I suppose this festive season stuff isn’t too bad, after all. Don’t tell anyone I said that.”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

His grin widens briefly as he looks back to the tree, uncertainty beginning to stir in the pit of his stomach. It’s probably getting to that time of the night where he should leave you to it, no doubt you’d have a few things to organise before going to bed yourself, but he doesn’t want to just yet. Can’t seem to find the strength to grab his stetson and jacket and say goodbye.

He doesn’t want it to seem like he’s expecting anything to happen. The night could end with that kiss shared against the hall and he’d leave a damn happy man, but curiosity has him waiting, wondering what move you’d make next, if any. You don’t say anything for a few moments, comfortable with the silence you share as you each watch the other.

Louisa’s long gone and lost to dreams, the girl barely able to keep her eyes open for more than thirty seconds when Jack pried her from the car to bring her inside. Gabe’s ability to fall asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow should be scientifically studied, so you wouldn’t have to worry about him either.

You quietly start making your way up the stairs, pausing just half way up and glancing back at Jack over your shoulder. He’s watching, waiting. The shy little sultry smile you send him is all the invitation he needs.

Knowing he’s right there and following your footsteps has your heart going wild with every step you take closer to your bedroom. A hand presses to the small of your back when you eventually reach your door and push it open, Jack moving damn near silent as the grave as he steps in behind you and closes the door.

“I haven’t done this in a long time,” you admit, nerves finally getting the better of you when his eyes land on you.

“Don’t you worry about that, sugar,” he replies, stepping forward to cup your jaw and you turn into his hand, seeking the reassuring touch. “Now you’re sure about this?”

A silly question.

“More than anything.”

His mouth is on yours as soon as he hears your words, and your head swims from the sweet press of his lips. It’s soft, a moment to put your nerves at ease and work you gently into it, something you’re thankful for as the tension slowly leaks from your shoulders. You follow his lead, letting him kiss you into an absolute frenzy until you feel brave enough to move your hands to unbutton his shirt and push it from his shoulders.

It’s when you trail your hands softly over his ribs and stomach does he kiss you deeper and let his own hands wander, palms smoothing over your sides and back before finding the zipper of your dress. You hold your breath as he tugs at it, shivering at the warm fingers that run along your bare skin when it’s finally open.

You slip your arms out of the short sleeves and let the fabric puddle at your feet, your bra quickly following, and your body warms under the way he unashamedly rakes his eyes over you in the muted light of your bedroom. 

“Lay down for me, darlin’. Let me take care of you.”

He watches as you sink into your mattress and wiggle yourself up the bed until your head rests comfortably on your pillows, that charming grin you love oh so much tugging at his lips when you give him another shy smile. 

“You’re beautiful.”

He’s one to talk, standing at the foot of your bed shirtless and looking like that.

“And you’re too far away.”

Your thighs part as he climbs onto the bed after you, crawling between your spread legs and over your body, chasing the taste of your mouth before directing his attention to your jaw, and then your throat. His teeth nip at your skin, his tongue soothes the brief tinge of pain away, and you don’t know whether you’re trying to pull him closer or push him away with the more he works your body into an absolute fever.

Fingers trace the waistband of your underwear and your heart starts to beat that much harder in your chest you think he must be able to feel it under his lips. You start to squirm beneath him when his fingers slip beneath the fabric and run softly over your core, brushing over the slick build of arousal and tracing your clit.

“Fuck—”

“Easy,” he murmurs soothingly against your skin, and you swear you hear a smile in his tone.

A thick finger slides into you, probing and curling against your hot walls before a second joins, and the stretch burns in the best of ways. He works you open slowly, more than content to go at his own leisurely pace and indulge in every twitch of slick muscle and quiet moan he can pull from your lips as he kisses his way along your body.

By the time his mouth reaches your stomach, you’re an absolute mess.

He pulls his fingers from your pussy to rid you of your underwear and you whine at the sudden loss of them filling you, but anticipation builds deep in the pit of your stomach as he settles comfortably between your spread legs, arms hooking under your thighs until they rest over his shoulders.

“Are you trying to kill me, cowboy?” You breathe weakly, biting at your lower lip when you feel his warm breath blow over your pussy.

He chuckles softly, “Sorry, sugar.”

The feel of his tongue making a path between your entrance and clit feels like anything but an apology. Your hand flies to his hair, fingers tangling tightly in it as he applies pressure to your clit, lips sucking at it softly and tongue rubbing slow, firm circles until you could almost go mad from the steady lull of it.

He likes to take his time.

There’s no rush with Jack, no quick foreplay so he can turn around and ask for his turn and get right to what he wants. He seems to enjoy working you up as much as you enjoy being victim to it. He waits until you’re breathless to change course, to alternate between building up your climax with firm laps of tongue and then letting it die down to taste you deeper, open mouth flush to your pussy as his tongue tastes you right from the source, and then right back up to start all over again. 

Again and again.

“Jack, please—”

You feel a touch of teeth against your clit as he grins and you think then and there that he really is out to kill you. Slowly, and very fucking nicely.

“You can handle a little more, sugar.”

“No, no I really can’t. Please, please do something—”

He groans softly against you, and the vibrations against your clit have your fingers tightening in his hair. He does like that. You tug at it some more, breathing another few pleas for good measure and finally—finally—you get what you want. He breaks free of his routine, tongue merciless as it strokes and rubs into your clit.

There’s no room to wiggle or squirm free of his hold. His arms lock around your thighs, giving you no room for reprieve as he chases your climax and you can only endure, barely remembering to keep your noises to a minimum as he drags you up and over the edge and then some.

You’re trembling in his hold when he finally breaks free of you, sweat slicking your brow and clit throbbing from the overstimulation. That damn smile is back on his face when he eventually crawls back over you, placing a wet messy kiss to the corner of your lips when you can only manage a half hearted glare his way.

“How’re you holdin’ up?”

“Shut up.”

“That’s the second time you’ve told me to shut up tonight.”

“Yeah, well… you deserve it.”

He chuckles quietly, resting his body weight against yours and you whine at the rough press of denim to your sensitive flesh. Your eyes flutter closed when his lips close over yours, his moustache wet and slick with your arousal. It’s hard to feel self conscious about any of it when he’s kissing you like this—tenderly, hungrily.

“Jeans,” you murmur into his mouth, hands tugging impatiently at his belt until he kneels and undoes the thick leather band and begins to slip out of his pants.

He’s back over you within minutes and you relish the feel of hot skin against yours, the heavy feel of his hard cock resting against your core. Your pussy clenches as he gives a small thrust against you.

“Do you have anything?”

“I don’t exactly get a lot of action, cowboy. Do you?”

“I wasn’t really expecting to sleep with the town's prettiest baker, sugar.” He grins, eyes warm as they dance across your face. He kisses you again, soft and reassuring. “It’s alright, we don’t have to—”

“No. No, no—please. I’m clean, and I’ve got the rod. Are you—do you—”

“Clean,” he rasps, and with your final nod of encouragement his hips shift until he’s lining himself up and sliding into you. He’s thick, the stretch of him almost too much even with his earlier attentions to get you ready. He stops halfway before pulling back out, only to sink deeper in on the next thrust.

He keeps the pace slow and steady, letting you adjust to the feel of him while kissing you senseless. Your hands are unable to stay in one place too long, going from curling around his neck to keep his mouth on yours, to his shoulders, to his back and hips. You start to rock up to meet his thrusts, coaxing him deeper and harder until he drives into you hard enough to rock the bed and knock the headboard against the wall.

You both freeze at the sudden sound, and he breaks away from your mouth to eye the headboard with a frown. This won’t work, not with the way he wants to have you, the way you obviously want him to have you. And how could he disappoint you? No, this won’t do.

“It’s okay,” you breathe softly with a smile, “we’ll just have to be careful.”

“‘scuse me, sugar,” he mutters after a moment of thought, tugging a pillow free from under your shoulder and leaning up over you to shove it harshly between the headboard and the wall. He gives an experimental heavy thrust of his hips once he deems it in position and your hands scramble for purchase, coming to tightly clutch at his waist.

When the headboard doesn’t knock against the wall again, he gives you a sly look of victory and grins.

“There we go. Now where was I?”

“Doing that again.”

“Of course, how could I forget?” He teases playfully, curling back over you to swallow your broken moans as he resumes the pace he had been working into before.

You clench, tighten and flutter around him as he fucks into you, mouth still so sweet and soft against your own it’s hard to keep up with the contrast of it all.

He kisses you until he physically can’t anymore, breaking away to hide his face into your throat as the slick feel of your pussy builds that tightening growing in the pit of his stomach. He pulls you closer, tangles his fingers with your own, finds every possible way to be even closer still. He wants to drown in you, feel and taste you and be surrounded by nothing but you.

It’s your final barely coherent utter of his name that sends him hurtling off the edge, a long drawn out fuck muffled into the skin of your throat as he feels himself fill you. He doesn’t move from covering you until he’s long gone soft, barely able to bring himself to pull out of you and collapse softly beside you.

His heart hammers in his chest, something else swimming beside the post-climax bliss and he’s not quite sure what to make of it, what to think. This is more than a simple fleeting attraction.

He likes you.

He really fucking likes you. Great sex out of the equation, he likes your company. He likes that you can laugh at and with him. He likes your home and how comfortable he is in it. He likes your kids.

Shit.

Now what?

“You doing okay over there, cowboy?” You ask gently, head rolling to the side to watch him. He’s thinking long and hard about something, and you hope to god it wasn’t something like regret.

“I don’t think I can leave this behind, sugar,” he mutters, eyes locked on the ceiling as he works his way through his thoughts and swallows the brief shake of nerves. “I thought I’d be runnin’ out of town by the time my vacation was up, but this… you and the kids, I don’t think I can leave it so easily.”

He leaves his confession to sink in for a moment, tongue sweeping along his lips as his heart starts to roar in his ears. He can’t look at you, doesn’t want to see the potential rejection build in your eyes before it passes through your lips, so he keeps his eyes away.

“I know I said I don’t have the option of datin’ because of my work, but… would you let me try?”

It’s a long shot. You’ve never had this conversation, never broached potentially taking this further than just a little fleeting moment in your lives. There’s a chance he’s just gone and ruined whatever casual thing you’d both crafted, but it was worth a shot, right?

Maybe he should’ve just kept this to himself and thought more on it back at the cabin.

“Long distance is hard, but we can take it slow,” you decide quietly, smiling softly when his eyes dart to you. “I don’t think I can just let you run out of town and never see you again, cowboy.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Thank Christ. He heaves a sigh of relief and rolls onto his side, coaxing you into his arms and brushing a few fingers gently across your cheek. You turn into the heat of his body, winding an arm around him and letting your fingers dance random patterns up and down his back.

“Would you like to stay for Christmas?” You ask against his chest, nuzzling into his hot skin.

“It’s a special time for the kids, I don’t wanna intrude—”

“You wouldn’t be. You’re invited. They’d love to have you here, if you want to be. Do you think you’ll be able to survive a proper Christmas with us?”

He grins, “I’d love nothin’ more, sugar.”

“So it’s settled. Come on, you grinch. I’ll show you how to play Santa.”

He watches you roll from the bed and tuck yourself into your dressing gown, and you only notice his frown when you’re tying the thin belt and sliding your slippers on.

“What's wrong?”

“The fact that you’re up and walkin’ so damn easily. I’ll take care of that, once we’ve taken care of this.”

—

The chair next to him is empty when he sits down, and Tequila throws a curious glance Champ’s way. He’d half expected Whiskey to be clawing his way back into the building first thing this morning. His desk had been untouched, the corridors empty of his presence. No one had seen or heard anything about him.

Worry begins to stir in his chest, wondering if they’ve maybe pushed him too hard and he’s gone and quit for another agency, but it quickly dissolves away when he realises Champ’s at ease and unbothered. Losing Jack would hit the older man quite hard, so to see him reclined in his office chair with a cigar in hand is a sign everything is well. 

“Agent Whiskey’s extended his vacation,” Champ states, breaking the silence and answering the questions building on the young agent's tongue. “He’ll be back after New Years.” 

Tequila settles back into his chair and grins. So good ol’ Scrooge ended up having a decent Christmas after all. Good for him.

“Finally enjoyin’ some peace and quiet, then.”

“He’s enjoyin’ somethin’, alright. He’s asked for the weekend of Valentine’s Day off, too.”

—end.