#holiday fluff
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Underneath the Mistletoe
Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 4.8k
Summary: Tired of enduring the obvious pining between you and Matt, Foggy and Karen plan a way to get you and Matt to admit your feelings - or at least to kiss.
Warnings/tags: Nothing but holiday fluff and first kisses
a/n: Finally I managed to get a holiday fic written with everything going on here for me for at least one of my boys! This one grew longer than anticipated but I hope y'all enjoy! Feedback is always appreciated!
Matt Murdock One Shot Tag List: @pazii @shouldbestudying41 @kmc1989 @ebathory997 @mattkinsella @yeonalie @shiorimakibawrites @xxdrixx @wkndwlff @leikelle @pinkratts @lazyxsquirrel @1988-fiend @marvelcinematiquniverse @carstairswife @stilldreaming666 @kiwwia-wiwwia @willwork4dilfs @will-delete-this-later-probably @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @theetherealbloom @yarrystyleeza @dramaholic18
Walking in step beside Foggy with her heels clacking along the sidewalk, Karen twirled the branch of mistletoe in her hand, her eyes transfixed on it as it spun. A soft laugh lightly fell from her lips as she shook her head at the fresh clipping. Glancing over her shoulder, she shot Foggy a questioning look beside her. The movement caught his attention and he shifted towards her, catching her eye in return.
“What?” Foggy asked. “What's with that look?”
Karen raised her hand, holding out the mistletoe towards him. One blonde brow rose up onto her forehead skeptically as she eyed him.
“I don't know, Fog,” she mused. “Do you really think this is going to accomplish anything tonight?”
Foggy let out a huff as he reached out, snatching the branch from her hand. He glared playfully back at Karen as Josie’s bar came into view farther down the block.
“Of course it is!” he exclaimed. “Because it's mistletoe , Karen! When two people stand under it, they are required to kiss.”
Karen rolled her eyes, waving a dismissive hand at him. “I know what it is, Fog,” she replied. “But do you think it'll actually get them to kiss? Or even go so far as to admit that they have feelings for each other?”
“It has to,” Foggy answered firmly. “Because I for one am personally tired of Matt making plans to come to Josie’s on specific nights after work, at specific times, just to run into our pretty new friend who often comes here alone because she's quite clearly smitten by our dear, frustrating Matthew. I mean, aren't you tired of watching all the obvious pining, too?”
Karen expelled an audible breath, a wispy cloud of water vapor forming in the air in front of her before it dispersed into the frigid night. Running a gloved hand through her hair, she nodded.
“Yeah, I am,” she agreed. “I mean it's so clear that she's interested in him with the way her eyes are always glued to him whenever he's around. Always smiling at him. And Matt is always finding ways to flirt with her. Or constantly inviting her to meet us back at Josie’s whenever he can–there's absolutely no way he can deny it, either. There's clearly something there.”
“So tonight we'll just…help them along,” Foggy told her, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “Right? Just to get them to stop dancing around their feelings with a little, festive nudge. That's all.”
Slowly, a devious smile spread itself across Karen’s lips as the pair came to a stop in front of the bar. Foggy shot Karen a conspiratorial wink before he opened the door to the bar, a burst of warm air wafting out immediately. He waved her inside before following after her, his eyes scanning the room for Josie. The moment he spotted her behind the bar he held up the branch of mistletoe in the air high above his head.
“Josie!” he called out.
Behind the bar, Josie’s head darted up from the bottle of beer she was opening for a patron. When recognition dawned on her face at who had called for her, she shot the pair of them a flat look.
“What do you want, Nelson?” she called back.
“Two beers and your permission to hang this up in your fine establishment,” Foggy answered her, waving the mistletoe above his head again.
Josie eyed the branch for a moment before dramatically rolling her eyes. “Whatever,” she shot back, focusing back on opening the bottle of beer. “Just as long as you aren't expecting me to kiss you tonight.”
“Aww, Josie,” Foggy cooed, “you wound me so! And on such a magical evening no less.”
“Pay your tab and it'll be a magical evening,” Josie quipped back.
Beside Foggy, Karen threw a hand over her mouth as a giggle bubbled up out of her. Foggy shot Karen yet another playful glare before he led the way over towards the bar, eager to see how the night would unfold.
“Ugh, it was such a good look on his face, too!” Foggy exclaimed, slamming his palm onto the small wooden table for emphasis. “I mean, when Matt dropped that line to the jury, you could just see the color drain from Samson's face! It was beautiful !”
A smile pulled at the corner of your lips as you glanced down at the bottle of beer before you. You'd made your way through the flurry of snowflakes outside once you'd left your office, walking all the way over to Josie’s just so you could meet up with the three lawyers you'd strangely come to befriend here over the past few months.
The three of them often loved to celebrate their wins in court here, something you had quickly found yourself invited to as if you'd always been part of the group–or the law firm of Nelson, Murdock, and Page itself–instead of just having been the woman at the bar Foggy had once accidentally spilled a drink on before insisting that he buy you your next drink to apologize. After that night when you'd met his friends, you usually found yourself joining them at this little dive bar on a weekly basis.
And it was no surprise to you that the three of them would be here again this evening because you'd seen them here only two nights ago when Matt himself had asked if you'd join them again. It was quite a confident gesture of him to invite you out to celebrate their win already that night, too, considering the trial hadn’t even happened yet–though confidence bordering on cockiness seemed the norm when it came to Matthew Murdock. Initially you hadn't been planning to come out tonight, but the moment his red lenses had focused on you from across the table and he had flashed you that charming smile on his handsome face, you knew you'd change your plans just to spend another few hours in his presence. You couldn't exactly resist the attractive lawyer who was always flashing smiles in your direction, and he often wasn't far from your mind whenever you weren’t here.
But of course you'd never admit that.
“It was pretty entertaining, I'll agree,” Karen replied.
Across the table from you, Matt shifted in his chair. The moment his knee brushed yours underneath the table, your hand tightened around your beer bottle. Inhaling a sharp breath, you sat entirely still in your seat, glad Matt couldn't see your reaction. Though you could feel the heat rising up your neck as your knee felt like it was pleasantly tingling from the brief contact with his. Across from you, Matt cleared his throat, one of his large hands rising from the table and tugging at the collar of his tie. You fought hard to not openly stare at his fingers as they pulled at the fabric, a tight smile slipping onto his lips.
“If only I could have witnessed it,” Matt added.
Internally you agreed. You could only imagine what it would be like to see Matt in action, delivering such powerful and impassioned speeches that you'd only ever drunkenly heard him recite in bits and pieces after the fact at Josie’s. You'd love to see him with his tie done up tight and his suit jacket on, his broad shoulders squared in that confident manner he had as he walked around the courtroom as if he owned it. Which you knew he must do in court because you saw him do it every time he entered this bar.
And it never failed to turn you on.
You knew it was stupid and foolish, but you wanted him horribly; you always had ever since the night he held out his hand to you and told you his name. He was a beautiful mystery, always so observant for a man lacking one of his senses. And he was charming and flirtatious, which often threw you off even though you assumed it was just his personality. Admittedly you had a crush on him, one you were too afraid to ever confess because he seemed far too out of your league.
“Hey,” Foggy said, cutting through your thoughts, “what do you all say to a game of pool tonight? Guys against gals?”
Attention shifting to Foggy who was sitting beside Matt, you noticed the way his eyes were darting around the three of you. Eyes narrowing curiously for a moment, you wondered what was with the look he seemed to keep shooting Karen. Out of the corner of your eye, you swore you saw Matt’s dark brow rise curiously above his glasses as if he somehow had also detected something strange in the way Foggy had suggested the game of pool.
“I don't know,” you began slowly, eyeing the three of them. “I think maybe tonight I'll sit the game out. I'm pretty worn out from work today, I don't think I’m up for a game.”
Foggy’s eyes immediately went wide, his mouth falling open as he gaped at you. Your bottom lip slipped between your teeth awkwardly as you sent him a sheepish smile.
“Oh come on!” Foggy pressed. “It’ll be fun! I promise!”
“Sorry,” you muttered, shrugging lightly. “Not tonight for me.”
Foggy opened his mouth as if he was about to immediately protest, but you felt a hand lightly land on your shoulder. Glancing to your left, you spotted Karen shooting you a wide smile as her piercing blue eyes locked onto yours.
“That’s alright, Fog,” Karen said quickly. “You boys can play a game and the two of us can watch and chat. Right?”
“Oh, uh, yeah, sure,” you stammered out, confused about the way she was eyeing you while Foggy was staring intensely at the side of her head. “That–that sounds good.”
“Great!” Karen exclaimed as her hand released your shoulder and she slid her chair back. “Let’s go grab another table then.”
Brows furrowed together, you carefully pushed your chair back and rose to your feet along with everyone else. Reaching a hand out, you grabbed your drink from off the table before making your way around it. Though it didn’t escape your notice that Matt still seemed to be wearing a similar look of skepticism on his face. Clearly you weren’t the only one thinking the two seemed off tonight.
Silently you followed behind Karen as she picked out an empty table just beside the pool table and gracefully slid into the seat, sending you a friendly smile as she caught your eye. You returned the gesture, slowly slipping into the seat across from her as Foggy led Matt towards the pool table. Almost involuntarily your eyes flew over to Matt when you saw him set his drink down and begin rolling up his dress sleeves while you settled into your chair. You always did enjoy seeing his muscular forearms covered in those dark hairs, but unfortunately because it was December, he didn’t often roll them up. Though something above his head caught your eye as he was rolling up his left sleeve and you glanced up.
Eyes widening in surprise, you stared at the branch of mistletoe hanging directly above him. That was the last thing you’d have expected to find at Josie’s. She certainly didn’t seem like the type of woman who’d go hanging holiday decorations of any sort in her bar, let alone mistletoe . You were suddenly even more grateful that you’d decided not to play pool tonight so you wouldn’t have to avoid standing beneath it all night.
“So,” Karen began, the conspiratorial lowering of her voice drawing your eye back to her as she leaned forward towards you, “there’s something I’ve been dying to know for awhile and we never really get a chance to chat as just us girls so I haven't had the opportunity to ask.”
Raising your beer bottle to your lips, you took a deep drink from it under the weight of Karen’s stare. You had a feeling you’d need the liquid courage for whatever question she was about to ask you. Swallowing the drink down, you soon cleared your throat, fighting to keep your gaze on Karen and not Matt as he let out a bark of laughter that had your stomach squirming. He always looked unbelievably handsome with a broad smile spread over his beautiful lips–a look you enjoyed seeing on him. It was difficult not to glance at the sight.
“What’s uh, what’s on your mind?” you asked hesitantly.
Her dark pink lips curled ever higher as she leaned further forward, placing her elbows onto the table. Her head tilted a bit to the side, a few strands of blonde hair falling forward and framing her face. The angelic appearance wasn’t fooling you though and your stomach twisted nervously.
“Do you like Matt?” she asked bluntly.
It felt like your heart stopped as the sound of billiard balls clacking together on the nearby pool table rang through your ears. Your lips parted in surprise before you could mask your reaction. Despite the fact that you had a feeling she was going to ask you something along those lines, hearing the question aloud still startled you. Out of the corner of your eye, you swore you saw Matt’s head turn in the direction of your table. Though there was absolutely no way he could’ve overheard Karen with how quietly she’d asked the question, but that didn’t stop the heat from once again rising up your neck and reaching your face.
“Oh, well, of course,” you replied awkwardly, pushing a few strands of hair from your face as you focused on your beer bottle. “I like all of you. That's–that's why I'm always here hanging out with you three.”
Nervously glancing up from under your lashes, you saw Karen’s face twist into a look that clearly said that wasn't what she'd meant at all. You shot her a nervous smile, hoping she wouldn't push it. Though as you grabbed your bottle of beer and brought it to your lips for another pull, it was obvious she wasn't letting this go.
“I don't mean do you like Matt as a friend,” she clarified. “I meant are you interested in him? Romantically speaking?”
Nearly choking as you swallowed your drink, you covered your mouth as you coughed into your hand. You weren't getting out of answering this apparently. It didn't help that it seemed both Foggy and Matt were glancing at your table as you sputtered on the beer, both of them shooting you curious and questioning looks. Across the table, Karen continued to smile innocently back at you as she waited for you to recover.
A few moments later you did, trying to wipe your now clammy hands on the thighs of your dress pants. Your eyes dropped down to the sticky wooden table as you thought about how to answer. Surely she wouldn't believe you if you said no considering the knowing look she was currently giving you. And if you answered truthfully but quietly there was no way Matt should be able to overhear the conversation at least. Right?
At the thought of him, your eyes nervously darted over to the pool table. Matt was lining up a shot, bent in half over the table and angling the cue in his hands.
“It's sort of hard not to like him like that,” you replied softly, eyes still lingering on him. “I mean he's…sweet. And funny. And incredibly smart and self-assured. Confident. Obviously very handsome. But I mean he's…”
Your voice trailed off, your attention still on Matt as he remained bent over the pool table. Brows lightly furrowing, it seemed like he was taking longer than usual to make his shot. A glance at Foggy beside him had you thinking he'd noticed it, too. Briefly you wondered what he was doing until Karen’s voice broke through your thoughts.
“He's what?” she pressed.
Sighing, your attention returned to your almost empty bottle of beer. Unclasping a hand from your lap, you reached out and grabbed the neck of the bottle. You shrugged lightly, unable to meet her gaze.
“Too far out of my league,” you muttered.
Drawing the bottle up to your lips, you finished the last of the beer. As you lowered the empty bottle back to the table, swallowing down your drink, you spotted Karen shooting Foggy a look. You couldn't possibly have been imagining it now, clearly they were up to something. But before you could figure out what, Karen spun back around in her seat and shot you a bright smile.
“Look at that, you already finished your drink. How about I get the next round of drinks before we continue this conversation?” she offered.
She quickly pushed her chair back before you could reply, her attention focusing on Matt and Foggy. Eyebrows drawing together, a nervous feeling swirled in your stomach, mingling with the alcohol.
“You boys need another round of beers?” Karen called over to them. “On me this time, in honor of our win earlier today?”
Matt's head tilted a bit to the side as he focused on her. “Oh, I don't–”
“Of course!” Foggy exclaimed loudly, cutting Matt off as he clapped him on the shoulder. “And you know what? I'll come with and help you grab them.”
Before you even knew what was happening, Foggy was waving you over enthusiastically with a hand. That nervous feeling only grew in your stomach when Karen turned, glancing over her shoulder at you with that bright smile that was clearly meant to be hiding something as Foggy called out your name.
“Why don’t you come keep Matt company?” Foggy suggested. “And you know, make sure he doesn't cheat to win this game while I'm gone.”
Matt audibly scoffed, shaking his head and countering the accusation immediately. But you weren't paying too much attention to their playful banter as you awkwardly rose to your feet and began making your way over towards Matt. Instead, your eyes were occasionally darting up and eyeing that damn bit of mistletoe that Matt was once again standing directly beneath. Which was why you intentionally came to a stop at the corner of the pool table, trying to keep some distance between you, Matt, and that little bit of mistletoe.
Though what you hadn't accounted for was Karen stumbling in her heels behind you and accidentally bumping into you, pushing you the few steps forward where you tripped directly into Matt. His hands swiftly darted out and grabbed onto your upper arms, steadying you as you tried to catch your balance. And when you finally did, you abruptly realized your own hands had flown to Matt’s very firm, solid chest to stop your fall. Your face flamed from embarrassment and you quickly withdrew them from him, crossing them over your chest awkwardly. But Matt's hands remained on your arms, keeping you close as the warmth of them seeped through the sleeves of your blouse.
“I am so sorry,” Karen suddenly began apologizing behind you. “My heel must've caught on something along the floor. I didn't mean to do that!”
“It's alright,” you replied, your face still burning as you gazed at the handsome face before you. “But uh, sorry for accidentally running into you, Matt.”
His hands slowly began to release their hold on you, that charming smile returning to his face as he remained focused on you. With how close you were standing to him, you could feel your heart slamming harder in your chest. He was just so unfairly attractive.
“Don't worry about it, sweetheart,” he assured you.
For a moment you stood there staring back at Matt's smiling face, almost feeling mesmerized by the expression on it. But a loud gasp from just beside Matt broke you out of your staring and caused you to glance over his shoulder at Foggy. Your pulse jumped when you caught him pointing a finger at the mistletoe hanging directly above Matt and yourself. Before you had a chance to move, finally remembering that you'd been trying to avoid the damn thing, the words were already coming out of his mouth.
“It appears you and Matt have found yourself beneath some mistletoe!” Foggy exclaimed.
Before you, Matt's head cocked to the side as his brows drew beneath his dark lenses. For some reason the smile on his face only grew wider as his covered gaze remained fixed on you.
“We have?” Matt asked curiously.
“Oh, yes!” Karen added from your other side, pointing a finger up at the branch hanging from the ceiling. “Foggy’s right!”
A light laugh slipped out of Matt, the warmth of it raising goosebumps along your arms as you felt rooted to the spot in front of him. You weren't sure if you should move or not; whether you should attempt to run away and come up with some excuse as to why he didn't need to kiss you. But it didn't help that part of you was hoping he'd somehow want to kiss you.
“I find it quite interesting that our dear Josie would put up mistletoe in her bar,” Matt mused aloud. “She doesn't seem the type.”
“Well either way,” Foggy cut in with an awkward laugh, “it's there! And you're both standing beneath it! So you know what that means! I mean it is tradition after all.”
Eyes growing wide, you openly gaped at Foggy and Karen as she came to stand beside him, a glint of something reflecting back at you in her eyes. Your lips parted as a rush of questions raced through your mind. Had they been the ones to put up the mistletoe? Were they doing it to get you and Matt to kiss? And if that was why they'd been acting so strange tonight– why ? Why would they want you two to kiss?
The sound of Matt clearing his throat brought you back to the moment. Your mouth was still hanging open as you focused back on him, noticing the almost nervous smile now spread on his face. Why did he look nervous?
“Fog uh…has a point,” Matt said, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “It is tradition for two people to kiss underneath mistletoe.”
You could feel your pulse jumping in your throat at his words as behind him you noticed Foggy and Karen quietly making their way over to the bar, leaving you alone with Matt. As your gaze fell back on him before you, your mouth opened and closed a few times while you struggled to form a coherent sentence until one suddenly blurted out of you.
“You want to kiss me?”
Your eyes instantly grew somehow wider at the question, your hand flying over your mouth to keep any further stupid thoughts from coming out of it. An adorable grin tugged at Matt's lips at your question, a small chuckle slipping out of him. Behind your hand, your teeth clamped down onto your bottom lip in sheer embarrassment.
“Well, if we're being honest,” Matt began, one hand readjusting the glasses on his nose, “then I should admit I've wanted to kiss you for weeks now. The mistletoe is just…oddly convenient.”
Swallowing hard, you tried to control your breathing which had begun to come in shallower at his confession. He'd wanted to kiss you for weeks now? That fact had your heart hammering heavily in your chest as nerves raced through your body. You could feel your stomach flipping anxiously as you stood there entirely unsure how to respond.
“But we uh, we certainly don't have to,” Matt said slowly, breaking the silence that had fallen between the pair of you. “I don't want to make you uncomfortable and ruin things between us.”
Feeling your opportunity to let him know how you felt slipping away, your hand flew from your mouth, hovering in the air between the pair of you as a loud ‘no!’ flew from your lips. The way Matt tilted his head at you, his brows rising up on his forehead as that grin returned to his face, had your cheeks once more burning tonight. But you couldn't let this moment slip past your fingers, not with how long you'd been thinking about it.
“I'd like to,” you admitted awkwardly. “I mean I–I’ve wanted to–to kiss you, too.” You paused when the grin on his face grew wider, your stomach somersaulting at the sight. “Because I…I kind of have a crush on you…”
“Yeah?” he asked, head still canted to the side. “That's fortunate for me since I have a crush on you.”
“Seriously?” you whispered in disbelief.
Matt nodded, that boyish and charming grin growing ever wider on his lips. The lips you suddenly couldn't seem to take your eyes off of.
“Mhmm,” he hummed out.
“I never knew…” you murmured, voice trailing off.
As you stood there trying to wrap your head around what he'd told you, Matt took a step closer towards you, closing the small bit of space. He reached around you, his arm almost grazing yours as he leant his pool cue up against the table.
“So about that mistletoe,” Matt mused, lightly placing his hands on your upper arms again as he leaned towards you, causing your heart to skip. “We should…probably kiss, right?”
Your eyelids fluttered as you stared back at him, your breath catching in your throat with every inch he seemed to be drawing nearer to you. It was taking your brain far too long to comprehend what was happening, let alone to form much of a response besides the quiet ‘yes’ that slipped out of you.
Matt's right hand released your arm and instead came up to cup your cheek. Gingerly he tilted your head, bringing your mouth in towards his as he finally closed the last remaining distance between the pair of you. The moment his lips touched yours, your eyes snapped shut.
At first his lips merely brushed against yours in a warm, gentle graze. The feeling sent a rush of excitement through your entire body as your hands flew up, gripping both of his muscular arms to steady yourself. He pulled back only a fraction from you before your lips were chasing after his, desperate for more than that soft, teasing touch.
He obliged instantly as if he knew–or had maybe heard the faint whimper of protest you'd made–and dove back forward again, connecting his mouth to yours with a bit more tenacity than before. His hand cupping your cheek held you more firmly to him as his plush lips passionately moved against yours in a way that left you gasping for air in the brief moments your mouths parted before inevitably connecting again.
For a while neither of you seemed able to tear yourself away from the other, entirely oblivious to the entire bar around the pair of you. Your fingers had curled around the fabric of his dress shirt, gripping tight as you tried to hold yourself up. It felt like you were losing yourself entirely in Matt the longer the pair of you kissed and if you let go, you were afraid you might actually lose your balance.
Which was why it took you a minute to regain your composure when Matt finally broke the kiss. He only moved back a few inches from your face, his warm breath brushing gently over your lips as they remained parted. It was a moment before your eyelids fluttered open, taking in the sight of his smiling face before you. His lips seemed pinker as they glistened with both your saliva, the thought of which had a heat building low inside of you.
“Can I maybe walk you home tonight?” he whispered.
“Yes,” you replied automatically.
“And can I take you to dinner on Friday night?” he asked next. “Would that be alright?”
You nodded slowly, your eyes focused on his beautiful mouth. “Yes,” you whispered back.
Matt's smile grew a little wider as his thumb brushed along your cheekbone. Your whole body felt like it was trembling now, your legs fighting not to give out beneath you. Your hands tightened further on his dress shirt, wrinkling the material.
“And can I kiss you again?” he questioned.
You nodded again, this time more enthusiastically. “Please,” you breathed out.
An amused chuckle slipped out of him as he leaned forward towards you once more. Out of the corner of your eye, just before you'd closed them again, you swore you saw Karen and Foggy exchanging a high five at the bar. But you forgot about that the moment Matt's lips were back on yours, kissing you more fervently than before as he backed you up against the pool table behind you.
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boston holiday. / a joel holiday ficlet
pairing: joel miller x f!reader ( the last of us )
word count: 1.5k
summary: You're decorating for the holidays in your Boston Quarantine Zone apartment. A begrudging Joel Miller gets involved.
tags: domestic fluff, pre-tlou, explicit language, holiday decorating in the apocalypse, set 6 months after 'seeing you / seeing me'
credit: dividers by @saradika
welcome to the third day of the twelve days of amymas 2023 !!!
“The hell’re you doing, girl?”
Only two people have the key to your place.
One of them is Tess Servopoulos.
Giving Tess a spare key was necessary — or so she's claimed, since according to her, she can't trust you to stay out of trouble for longer than twenty minutes.
(She isn't wrong.)
However, you’d love to argue that somehow you have become the saint in this duo.
Ever since that week at Miller's place, every deal has gone smoother than running water. For the last couple of months, you've been clean. Unseen. Invisible.
Tess, on the other hand, has always been a bad influence.
The older woman opens her mouth, starts a Boston-wide battle, and boom — sleepover for two at your place.
(After saving your ass, you'll hide her away from wandering eyes without question. Curfew punishments be damned.)
The other person that has the key to your place, well —
The other is the salt-and-pepper man watching you in mild horror as you teeter on the arm of your dilapidated couch.
(You just haven't seen him yet.)
Joel Miller has been known for his subtlety, his silence, but not around you.
Not when he holds the key to your place; a recent development.
He tends to simply show up when he wants.
You don't mind that — usually.
But his bark scares the shit out of you in the middle of stretching high, your bare toes barely touching the arm of your couch.
The hell're you doing, girl?
Hoping to tack this starting string of garland to the ceiling suddenly becomes you fighting for your life.
"Ah—!"
The surprise intrusion causes you to falter, ankle losing its balance.
You wobble once, violently twice, before falling backwards.
Joel wastes no time — he slams the front door shut, not bothering to lock it behind him, and rushes to the couch.
Like some fucked up apocalyptic fairy tale, he catches you well before you hit the ground.
Joel Miller, the reluctant hero.
For a moment you stay suspended here: feet barely touching the ground, the older man’s arms wrapped around your torso.
Joel's weather-worn face twists in a concerned scowl.
All you can do is cheekily smile.
“Hey, Miller.”
“Don’t fucking hey me,” he snaps. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
“To be fair, I thought I could reach it.” He stares, so you supply: "The ceiling. I thought I could reach the ceiling."
“You’ve got the tallest goddamn ceilings in the Boston Q-Z,” Joel argues in return, setting you down to properly stand. You hold onto the sleeves of his flannel shirt until you get your footing. “Ain’t no way in hell you were reaching anything.”
He lets go of you to stare at the ceiling like he's ready to pick a fight with it, before dropping his chin.
The man stops moving when he picks up the fallen string of fake green vines strewn across your scratched hardwood floor.
The question is silent: what the hell is this?
You cross your arms over your chest, wishing you had a better excuse.
A funny one that doesn't make you look so childish, especially in front of Joel Miller.
Still, you're a bad liar around him, so you choose to stare at the garland instead of him when you confess.
“I was trying to get the holiday spirit going.”
When you blink up to Joel, your suspicions of confusion are correct: he stares back like you’ve sprouted a second head and become a clicker in the flesh.
A beat passes.
Then another.
“The what now?”
You playfully roll your eyes and walk away towards your radio. Hovering over it, your fingertips reach to toy with the dials until white static takes over the apartment silence.
That radio is the only reliable device in your endless collection of junk, though it's had to go through some repairs this year.
Thanks to Joel it still works, though he won't let you thank him.
(Not verbally, anyway. There are always loopholes in the middle of the night.)
“Every year I do this,” you explain, turning each dial with care until the local radio station comes over the airwaves.
"You... decorate."
Clearly he's unimpressed.
"Yeah," you reply. "Between leaving the Q-Z and scavenging the nearby neighborhoods, I find junk all the time. Snowman trinkets and elf knick-knacks and other stupid shit no one ever touches because it's all useless. I keep all of them in a box until the holidays. My collection's actually grown exponentially over the years.”
Two boxes full, actually.
Forgotten treasures of other families, now kept sacred on your mantle.
“Sounds like a waste of time,” Joel scoffs.
“It is,” you agree once you find the right channel before standing at full height with a tiny smile, "but that time makes me happy, so I’m happy to waste it. What else am I supposed to do between jobs?”
He considers those words, if just for a moment.
Joel scrunches his nose and eyes in a way that says he's debating on being mean.
You don't expect him to get it.
He's been through shit, but so has everyone in this quarantine zone.
(So have you.)
The Eagles croon in the background — not exactly holiday cheer, but any vinyl or CDs of the greats like Bing Crosby and Frank Sinatra singing holiday songs are probably nonexistent from the decay of time.
Besides, you can’t imagine many others are trying to keep the holidays afloat in the quarantine zone. Some families, sure, but not many.
Too much heartbreak. Too much loss.
But you've had enough sadness, so you try to bring a little light to your humble abode.
"Don't worry about it, Joel," you add after an uncomfortable amount of silence passes. "I know it's stupid. There's a fresh bottle of stored whiskey in the—"
All words die on your tongue when some kind of winter miracle happens:
Rather than tossing the garland string to the side, Joel turns on the heel of his boot and away from you.
"Joel?"
He carefully slips off his shoes, revealing worn-white socks, and steps on your couch cushion.
With care, he reaches for the ceiling.
A strip of his bare lower back reveals itself in his stretch.
“What are you... doing?” you inquire, stepping around your couch to face him.
He doesn't look down, determined to stare at the white canvas of your ceiling.
Searching.
Your line of sight is in direct contact with the dark happy trail poking from his shirt, causing your face to burn.
“What’s it look like I’m doing?” he retorts.
“You said it was a waste of time.”
“You dying because you wanna try and stick some stupid tree shit up on your ceiling is more of a waste of time. You got tape or something?”
“Seriously?”
He peers down at you.
“Do I look like I’m kidding?" he retorts. "Get the damn tape.”
You have to try not to smile too wide when you step away, rummaging through your box of supplies.
Truthfully nothing in this box is worth keeping — none of it will save your life in the apocalypse — but your mental sanity thanks you for it every year.
After finding a roll that’s still sticky, you return to the couch and hold it up for him.
Joel grunts in gratitude, focusing his efforts solely on the line of green above him.
He manages to press the start of the decoration in place, holding the bottom of it to you.
“You want big loops or little?”
“What’ll stick better, Miller?”
He gives you a warning look. “Joel.”
A smile spreads like wildfire against your lips.
“...what’ll stick better, Joel?”
That seems to satisfy him.
“Hell if I know,” he grumbles, “just tell me what you prefer and I’ll do it.”
Something stirs in your lower belly as he speaks.
Joel didn’t have to do this.
He didn’t have to do any of it.
You were perfectly fine with keeping your need for holiday cheer to yourself, but he’s stepped in without so much as a fuss.
He’s had a hard life. Tess has alluded to the fact that he was once a father before.
You can only imagine how much he hates this, but he’s still trying.
For you.
It’s not a favor you will easily forget.
Your fading candles burn out in the background as the two of you go through every part of your assorted holiday decorations, popping open a bottle of smuggled whiskey to keep yourselves dehydrated.
You direct. Joel places.
After some time you both get too tipsy to put the finishing touches.
(Too busy slow dancing in the middle of your living room to the ballads of Patsy Cline.)
Making jokes.
Enjoying warmth.
Choosing life.
It’s the first night Joel Miller ever sleeps at your place.
You both stay in bed long after the sun rises.
.
#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fluff#tlou fanfiction#tlou fanfic#tlou fic#tlou fluff#the last of us fic#joel miller fic#the last of us fanfiction#the last of us fanfic#holiday fanfic#holiday one shot#holiday fluff#twelve days of amymas#amywritesthings#fic: boston holiday
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Kitchen Nostalgia with Tech
[Part 3 of Holiday Fluff with The Bad Batch]
Dividers by @ve-ti-ver on this post here
Word Count: 1.2k, LOL... Tech is always gonna get me goin. ;)
SFW, just some warm and fuzzy stuff that will be a composite master post of Bad Batch sweetness. GN Reader.
“This is ridiculous,” Tech commented, unable to tear his eyes from the TV despite the array of baking materials laid out across the counter. The loud laugh track played over raucous clapping as Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra introduced the next number with playful banter, crew workers pushing fake storefronts and houses across a large sound stage behind them. “It’s entirely fabricated, without any attempt to conceal the fact…”
“They weren’t trying to make it seem real,” you giggled, wanting to squeeze him as he groaned at the sight of an incredibly gaudy Christmas tree, dripping with tinsel, being rolled out next. “It’s just… the aesthetic. It’s a variety show. Television was still new, so people were thrilled to see anything really.”
“This is reasonable, however in our current day and age–”
“It’s just nostalgic. Warm and fuzzy. I can’t explain it,” you interrupted, pulling his arm to invite him to finish rolling out the cookie dough. “It seemed like a simpler time… Pure and sweet somehow…”
“Mafia-affiliated crooners singing Euro-centric holiday songs does not strike me as either pure nor sweet,” Tech commented,
Ladies and Gentlemen! Frank Sinatra Junior and Dean Martin Junior!
“The same names?” Tech nearly choked. “First their daughters are introduced as singers, now their sons too? I question the authenticity of the organic talent of the offspring versus the undeniable favoritism from production companies due to their parents’ status.”
“Tech,” you breathed, exasperated at his constant commentary, although you couldn’t really blame
“Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like you to meet my daughter Deana,” the taller one said. You couldn’t help but start to giggle, hearing Tech’s words in your head before they even left his mouth, and as he spluttered like a fish out of water, the show continued, “And I’d like you to meet my daughter, Tina.”
“The rhyming is just patronizing at this point, and have these performers been evaluated for narcissistic personality disorder? His name is Dean, his son is Dean Junior, and his daughter is Deana?” Tech looked as though he was about to have a conniption, and you couldn’t take anymore. Leaning over him, you grabbed the remote from the counter and switched the screen off, laughing uncontrollably.
“Okay, okay, it’s all ridiculous,” you confessed, a little indignant at his inability to move past all of the shortcomings. “I just like the old stuff sometimes, alright?”
“I apologize if my thoughts are preventing you from enjoying your show,” Tech said, although you could tell he was just saying it because he knew he was supposed to. You stuffed down a little grumble and instead turned your thoughts to the task at hand.
“Let’s just finish the cookies,” you said, pulling out your favorite shapes of cookie cutters while he continued to flatten the dough across the counter. You snagged a small piece from the edge, popping it in your mouth and relishing the sweetness with a single, closed-eyed sigh. His face softened a bit, pushing aside the protests about salmonella risks with a reminder of their statistical occurrence.
The rest of the baking went by with quiet conversation and little brushes against one another, and once the cookies were in the oven, the luscious smell filling the kitchen, it was time for the traditional “waiting drink” – an “adult egg nog”. As you mixed together two mugs and took a long drink from yours, you heard big band music, lifting your head to see Tech turning the television back on, an unmistakable and endearing cringe on his face.
“You don’t have to–” you began, but he waved his hand, turning toward you with a surprising gentleness on his face. He came back over, accepting your mug and lifting his eyebrows after a cursory sip.
“I believe I was overly hasty in my judgment,” he said, shocking you deeply at his uncharacteristic admission. Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra were cracking themselves up now, dancing in over-the-top silliness as they sang a medley of their most popular songs in perfect, playful harmony. You took another sip of your holiday drink, warmed to the core and pleasantly fuzzy.
“It’s alright,” you answered, “It’s not for everyone.”
“But it is for you, and I care about you. Therefore, in a way, it is something I can appreciate as a facet of your personality and interests,” Tech said, taking a step closer. You loved the way he could arrive at wonderfully sweet and romantic conclusions through the process of cold, hard reason. You couldn’t have possibly anticipated his next words, however, as Frank Sinatra began to sing “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas”. Not usually one for physical touch, he lifted a hand to the outside of your arm, stroking it lightly with a look of resolution on his face as though he’d decided to try something. “Would you like to dance?”
“Dance?!” you blurted out, setting your mug down much harder than you intended. Tech looked concerned.
“It seemed fitting with the–” he explained.
“No, no… I’d love to!” you interrupted, heart warming at the flicker of relief on his typically unfazed face. “I just… didn’t think that was something you’d enjoy.”
“I concur,” he answered matter-of-factly, and you laughed again, a tingle washing over you as he slowly nestled one strong, steady arm beneath your own and rested his hand between your shoulder blades, scooping you into a very rigid and structurally perfect ballroom frame. He took your other hand in his, pulling you into the first step with an impressive blend of strength and grace, and began to step slowly in time to the music.
From now on, our troubles will be miles away…
Here we are, as in olden days…
Happy golden days of yore…
Buoyed by the warmth of the egg nog and brandy, intoxicated by Tech’s closeness and quiet intimacy, you closed your eyes in utter bliss, guided by his firm leading as you swayed slowly around the kitchen. You didn’t know what had possessed him to try something so uncharacteristic, but you weren’t about to start asking questions.
Through the years, we all will be together…If the fates allow…Hang a shining star upon the highest bough…
You didn’t think it could get any better, but as the song went on, his arm suddenly lowered, the rigid frame that kept you at bay replaced instead with a more snug embrace as he pulled you in against his chest, still clasping your hand in his own but resting it against his shoulder. You nuzzled in, savoring every touch and movement as he leaned his cheek against the top of your head. Holding him as closely as possible, your arm tucked lovingly around his waist, you inhaled deeply, his scent mingling with the baking cookies, and you thought you might burst with joy.
“Thank you,” you whispered, and he pressed a kiss to your hair, deeply gratified by the overwhelming success of his endeavor. He was trying something new, channeling his focus to the senses. The feeling of your body fitted along his own, the slight chill in your fingertips, your steady breathing... He was surprised at the warmth it conjured.
Perhaps he would investigate further.
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#the bad batch#tbb#star wars fanfiction#bad batch#the bad batch fanfiction#star wars the bad batch#the bad batch fluff#the bad batch fic#the bad batch tech#tbb tech#tech fluff#tech x reader#tbb tech x reader#x reader#reader insert#x reader fluff#holiday fluff#christmas fluff#fluff#star wars fluff#tbb tech fluff#tech romance#tech#christmas tech#christmas fic#dancing fluff#romantic fluff
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A Summoning
ANGELS, I've returned to serve you domestic fluff with a side of holiday mischief. Professor! Gale and Dad! Gale are everything to me so I have wrapped them both up in this story with a little bow on top. Also on AO3 if you prefer. As always, thank you for reading. 💕
Winter brings many things to Waterdeep– the sort of darkness that seeps into every corner of the city, the sort of snow that falls as heavy as a shroud. It brings a season’s worth of holidays, and with them, all their customs, all their visitors called home from every region of Faerun. It bring gifts and songs and lanterns, lit and hung in every window, their light shining off the snow like grounded stars.
Best of all, winter brings them Arabella.
In the girl’s first year at Blackstaff, Tav insisted Gale invite her home at Midwinter break. After all, she'd pointed out, Gale knew firsthand what it was like to be alone in the dormitories when the other students had gone home. It would be better, they’d decided, to have her stay with them in the tower, where they could spoil her and cook for her and help her with her schoolwork.
And so it was.
That first Midwinter came and went, and so did Fey Day and Fleetswake and Midsummer, Stoneshar and Last Sheaf and Feast of the Moon. Every holiday they invited her, and every holiday she came.
By the time Midwinter arrived again, there was no discussion at all. Arabella simply appeared at their door on the last day of school, and was welcomed in just before dinner.
For the most part, her visits brim over with happiness. Gale teaches her the rules of lanceboard and all his favorite recipes, and Tav reads to her and shows her how to pluck out a tune on a lyre. When Tara and Morena come for tea, they tell her stories about Gale’s childhood that turn him varying shades of red, depending on how often he has scolded Arabella for similar behaviors. There is no shortage of laughter or mischief or very late nights, which means also no shortage of noise.
In the mornings, Gale rises ahead of the girls, gathers all his students’ papers and heads to the library to work in uninterrupted silence. If he is lucky, he can get through a good deal of marking before he starts to miss the tower, all its chaos and its company.
No luck today.
He’s only been there for an hour when a family passes by the nearest window, a flock of children shepherded by their parents. They all take turns at catching snowflakes, huge and fluffy, on their tongues, and fall apart in fits of laughter when they miss.
They grin and wave at Gale when they see him, their cheeks flushed and bright with cold, and he waves back, and packs his things, and goes home early.
*********
The tower seems, at first, exactly as he’d left it– silent, sleeping– But they must be up by now, he thinks. It’s late enough.
He might expect them in the solar or the kitchen or the parlor, warming up before the fireplace or hovering over a lanceboard, but there’s no seems to be no sign of them, no sound of them at all.
It is too quiet.
Gale takes the stairs two at a time and makes a beeline down the corridor to their chambers, worry rising in his chest. He nearly rushes past his study when a faint exchange of words drifts through the door, followed by a commotion– a flutter of paper, a rush of footsteps, something dragged across the floor.
He’s almost startled when he reaches for the handle and it opens. Tav is standing at the threshold, bright as ever, smiling wide.
Gale catches sight of Arabella in the background closing a book, setting it back down on his desk with a little thump . Its cover– or what he glimpses– looks familiar somehow, like something he’d studied long ago and has since forgotten. The memory hasn’t fully formed when Tav interrupts it, her lips pressed to his in her usual greeting. She tastes like holiday sweets, like honey cake and mint, like tradition and family and home.
“Hello, darling,” she says. “You’re home early.”
“Hello, you.”
The lingering taste of her is nearly enough to distract from his growing suspicion, but there’s something off about the room that he can’t quite place, something mischievous in the way she’s leaning against the doorframe, shifting her body, tilting her head to obscure his view.
“Am I interrupting?”
“Of course not,” she assures him, in a tone so light and easy it’s almost convincing. “Arabella and I have just been reviewing some of her lessons, isn’t that right?”
“Yep!” Arabella agrees, too enthusiastically for schoolwork. The girl comes to stand next to Tav in the doorway, her hands clasped politely before her. The picture of a well-behaved child.
He is certain they are up to something now.
“And which lessons might those be?”
They stumble over their answers, the words colliding, knocking heads.
“Evocation,” answers Tav, while Arabella says, “Illusion.”
A guilty look, quick as a hummingbird, flits between them and disappears.
Gale raises an eyebrow. “Care to try again?”
“Well,” Arabella swallows, “I was saying you’ve been teaching our class about familiars, and how you got Tara, and–”
“Hang on,” Gale interrupts, a realization creeping over him. He points past them to the desk, to the text that she had dropped when Tav opened the door. “Is that my book?”
“I think you’ll find they’re all your books, darling,” Tav says quickly. “Don’t worry, we’ll put them back–”
But it’s too late.
With a flick of his hand, Gale passes through them like mist and reappears in the room beside his desk. He flips open the front cover– Advanced Summoning, stamped in gilded letters– and turns to a bookmarked page of detailed instruction, his own notes scribbled in the margins in a child’s hand.
“You certainly will put this back,” he says firmly, facing Arabella. “This is magic beyond your years.”
“But you were younger than me when you summoned Tara!”
“‘Younger than I,’ and– nevermind – you're right, but that was very different.”
Arabella wrinkles her nose indignantly. “How?”
“Well first of all, I didn’t need someone else’s private notes to do it. Now, if you’d like a book on familiars, I have a more appropriate one you can borrow–”He is moving in long strides toward the bookshelves on the opposite wall, crossing over the rug that’s been moved– It’s been moved? – to half-cover the summoning circle and–
Wait .
“Have–” he sputters, lifting his shoe off the chalky runes drawn on the hardwood. “Have you made a summoning circle ? In my study?”
“Well, not just me,” the girl protests. “Tav helped!”
“I did,” she cringes lightly, when Gale whips around to look at her. “I couldn’t let her do it on her own.”
“My love, she shouldn’t be doing it at all. This,” he says, turning back to Arabella, “Is complex and dangerous magic. One mistake and you might summon a pit fiend rather than a tressym.” “A very small pit fiend,” says Tav under her breath, but on seeing Gale’s scowl, adds, “Sorry.”
“ Gods,” he groans, dropping his face into his hands. “What am I going to do with the two of you?”
“Help us!” Arabella grins. “We were nearly done anyway.”
“We could use your expertise,” Tav murmurs, drawing close. “You’re the only one who’s done this before.”
He feels her soft hands on his, prying them from his eyes so gently that he almost forgives them right then and there.
“Pleeeease?” Arabella draws out the word like a sustained note. “I won’t ask for anything else all Midwinter.”
“Where on earth are you going to keep it, Arabella? They’ll never allow it in the dormitories, believe me.” The girls look first at each other, then back to Gale. “No,” he says firmly. “Absolutely not. It cannot live here.” “But I’m here all the time anyway!” Arabella protests. “I promise I’ll take good care of it. Besides, you’re always telling me I need to be more responsible.”
Gale sighs until it feels like all the air has left his body.
“And summoning a familiar is going to make you more responsible?” The child shrugs. “It might.”
It is all he can do not to laugh at that, at all of it, at the great karmic joke playing out in front of him. This must be what his mother felt like, all those many years ago. He thinks of writing her his most sincere apology.
After a great deal more sighing and shaking his head, Gale bends and tugs the rug away to reveal the extent of their work. He examines it deliberately, walking around and around, head bent, arms crossed, brow furrowed.
“Your runes are wrong,” he says at last. “Here,” he points, “and here. Let me show you.”
Arabella listens closely as he guides her through the process, far more closely than she listens in his class. She draws new runes in a steady hand, pausing each time for affirmation, and when she finishes Gale’s eyes are full of pride.
“The incantation now,” he nods, and stands and brushes the chalk from his knees.
He moves out of the circle entirely as Arabella takes the center, her command of the words unwavering and true. But for a long and silent moment, nothing happens. She looks from the circle to the book to Gale and back, her disappointment only tempered by confusion.
Then comes a sound like distant lightning, and a sizzling, crackling energy that makes the hair on all their arms stand up on end. A sphere of light appears above them, tears like parchment down the middle, and something tiny, something living tumbles straight into her arms. She nearly drops the book to catch it– a ball of fur with fledgling wings– and when she turns her eyes are bright with tears, a joy Gale still remembers.
#gale x tav#gale of waterdeep#gale dekarios#bg3#baldur's gate 3#gale x fem! tav#professor dekarios#arabella bg3#gale fluff#holiday fluff#domestic fluff#arabella being a regular in gale & tav's home is everything to me#my fic
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A Perfect Christmas
@snowxstormworld Jonerys Winter Wonderland 2023: All I Want for Christmas is You
Summary: T’was the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring… besides two parents very excited for some time alone with each other.
Dany has a secret she is trying to keep until Christmas Day. Jon gets into the Christmas spirit late in the evening, but they both forget one very important thing before the morning.
Enjoy some Holiday Family Fluff! Christmas may be over, but it’s never too late to celebrate with our favorite couple and their targlings.
#jonerys#Jonerys Winter Winderland 2023#snowxstormworld#all i want for christmas is you#Christmas Au#Modern Au#Married Jonerys#Targlings#Holiday Fluff#Moodboard#Sorry i’m ten days late#im on baby time#so time has no meaning#my fic
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Rating: G
Pairing: Vash X F!Reader
CW: Mentions of pregnancy, Aliases, holiday fluff, breaking and entering ok on Christmas, growing up too fast
Word count: Roughly 4.8K
A/N: Well. Once more like Spock I am a liar, this is way more than a drabble… however, I don’t care. So enjoy Vash taking Rei to see some snow for the first time with the help of Uncle Livio!
It had started out innocently enough when you and Vash first heard about it, a biodome being built a two-hour Tomas ride from your little home sort of in the middle of nowhere. A few vague inquiries as to what it was going to be, the number of staff involved, and most importantly, were the Earth forces going to be around and managing the site.
The answer to that inquiry was to be the deciding factor on whether you and Vash were going to stick around or up and move to another spot in the middle of nowhere. After all, it wasn’t like the two of you had any firm roots yet with your little Tomas ranch that you were starting.
When you and Vash did get the answer both of you had sat down at the little table in your kitchen with a list of pros and cons. After a week of discussions you had decided to stay as the benefits did outweigh the negatives and a new town was starting to pop up in the middle which would cut down on the planning required for regular supplies the two of you would need. The biggest deciding factor had been the discovery you had been expecting and Vash stated he wanted to have a home for them and not to still be on the run and was willing to take on the added risks that came with that.
Two years later, the artic biodome was up and running. Another public relations attempt by the Earth forces to win over the local populace and Rei, well Rei at one and a half was looking more like an eight-year-old. If you and Vash thought things were going to get easier as your cheeky little boy grew you have been quite wrong.
“Mom?” It still ate at your heart that he had made the shift from Mama to Mom in the last few weeks since the skating incident.
“Yes, Baby?” You called from inside the washing machine, struggling to reach the socks wedged in the back. Why did you have such a massive drum in this thing? Right because you needed to get everything in it and normally it wasn’t a problem.
“Someone is coming up the door.” The sodden fabric was forgotten as you pushed yourself out and whipped around.
“Where’s your Papa?” Striding towards the hallway and down to the living room to look at the window, in the distance a visible short cloud of dust.
“In the barn.” Rei is right next to you looking out at the cloud as it slowly grows closer, reaching out your arm to pull him into your side and ruffling his soft blond locks.
His own little arms reach up to wrap as best as they can around your middle. “Alright then, you and I will stay here for a few minutes to see where that cloud goes ok?” At least he still wants to cuddle with you, at the strange point in his life where he still wants to snuggle with you and Vash when he gets the chance sets seems torn with wanting something like a baby would according to him.
Vash had told him he was allowed to want snuggles with his parents no matter how old he was.
Your fingers kept carding through his hair, his most recent request for a haircut like his Papa’s had warmed your heart and every day Rei was starting to look more and more like Vash. As the two of you watched the cloud headed towards the barn and you let out a proverbial sigh of relief. Not a real one since Rei didn’t need to catch on just how worried you had been, and if they were heading for the barn they were familiar enough with your little family to know that was the best stop. “Looks like nothing to worry about Rei.” It then hit you. “Rei. Why were you in the living room anyway? Shouldn’t you have been in the kitchen doing your schoolwork?”
A sudden spasm from the body under your arm and you knew you had caught the boy. “ugh, I was taking a break, Mom.” Unwrapping his arms from around your middle and rubbing the back of his head in a familiar gesture had you rolling your eyes at the little blond.
Hands on his shoulders you started leading him back towards the kitchen with a roll of your eyes. “Nice try you little scamp. Now back to it, and once I get this laundry out we can have a real break and I’ll get us a snack.”
Snack done and back to going over his schoolwork from Home since it was going to be the easiest way to educate the boy and not have anyone question his growth spurt. You both paused as the front door opened and you could hear the sound of a heavier set of boots following behind the familiar sound of Vash’s sure steps. The dark-haired plant led the way into the kitchen with a much broader white-haired man behind him.
“Uncle Livio!” Rei was out of his chair in a flash and rushing the gunslinger turned, well you weren’t fully sure what to call the man that helped run the orphanage he and Wolfwood had grown up in.
“Hey, little guy!” Wide palms wrapping under your son’s armpits and hefting him up into his arms. “Look at you, you’re getting pretty big I guess I shouldn’t be calling you a little guy anymore.” Standing yourself as Vash approached, bending down for a quick kiss and to whisper in your ear as Rei started talking a ile a minute to Livio.
“Seems we might have another chance for our little sprout to experience something.” Sliding his hand down your side to gently grip your hip.
“Oh? I’m guessing you mean Rei and not the newest one.” Smirking as you lean your body against his and watch Livio give Rei another toss in the air.
“Very funny, Mayfly.” Licking his lip before giving you a tender swat “I do think you might need to miss out on this little adventure if it happens. We’ll be going somewhere a little on the chilly side.” Raising your eyebrow at him and wondering why he would word his comment in such a way.
“I have so many questions now.” You whisper as Rei is placed on his feet once more, only to feel Vash press his lips to the top of your head this time.
“Ew.” His nose scrunched up as Rei made a face at both of his parents. “I don’t need to see kissy parents.”
Both you and Vash shared a look before scooping your son up and started peppering his face with kisses making the boy squeal at how both of you were gross.
After supper and once Rei was in bed the three adults found themselves at the table, a mug in front of each of them with the dishes done and the lights turned down low. “Alright boys tell me what this grand plan is?” Sitting closer to Vash so the fingers of his flesh hand can dance across your stomach if he wants to be that handsy while you’re expecting your second child you aren’t going to tell him otherwise when Rei isn’t around.
“Well.” Livio started leaning against the table his face growing serious. “A few days ago the orphanage got an invitation to go see the artic Biodome, and the Earth forces sent a bus and escort and everything.” Three of his large fingers started to tap and you recognized the signs he was nervous. “First. It was amazing! I thought the ice rink thing was neat but this? This blew it all away! So while I was there with the kids I started looking around and I thought ‘Rei would love this’ and started paying attention to security since I know you and Vash won’t risk someone making the jump about who you are and putting Rei in danger.”
At Livio’s admission, you find yourself paying more and more attention, because you know Livio cares for your little boy just as much as you and Vash do. Reaching your hand down to intertwine your fingers with your spouse as Livio keeps talking walking you through his plan on how to get both Vash and Rei inside the dome to have a little adventure. “I was planning originally for the three of you, but I guess your condition may preclude you from going.”
“Come on now, I’m not that bad with the cold. I could handle a few hours inside of the Biodome all dressed up.” Pouting a little at the fact that the men seem to think you wouldn’t be able to handle the chill.
“Mayfly.” Vash is gentle as his prosthetic tilts your head towards his, the mirth shining in his eyes making you smile. “You tried to crawl into the oven with it on when you were pregnant with Rei because you weren’t warm enough.” Your smile hadn’t dropped that quickly in a long time as you scowled at the reminder.
“It’s not my fault your babies make me want to cook myself.” Grumbling as Livio takes the lead in the conversation once more and gets it back on track on what needs to be done. After all, you aren’t going to deny your son the chance to see actual snow and trees, and with what Livio has learned you only have a week or so to pull it off before a new schedule is put in place. One the ex-Gung-Ho-Guns member would have zero reason to go back and snoop around for that wouldn’t somehow lead back to your little family.
The night of, Vash found himself thundering across the sand dunes, a sleeping boy in front of him on the Tomas and saddlebags full of warm clothes to change into before entering the biodome. His eyes were sharp as he kept his gaze forward looking for an outcropping Livio had described to meet him at that was only a ten-minute ride via a Tomas. Or at least according to him.
Sure enough in the distance he could make it out “There’s where we’re headed Pookie.” Whispered to his Tomas who trilled in response, the smallest shift of her reins changing directions and slowing to a canter as the pair approached.
“Glad you could make it.” Almost as if blending from the darkness Livio seemed to appear, dressed in what looked like an Earth forces uniform, reaching out and petting the bird. “Rei, wake up little guy.” His other palm landed on the boy’s knee and he gave it a soft shake.
A grumble from the small blond who shifted in his father's hold to bury his face in his chest. Laughing Vash leaned down to whisper against his growing locks. “Rei, if you don’t wake up we can’t see snow. You wanna see snow with your Papa don’t you?”
That did the trick in rousing the boy, a little yawn before rubbing at his eyes. “We’re there Papa?” His voice mumbled with sleep and those bright blue orbs slowly blinked as he tried to wake up. Which to Vash was hilarious since before they had left the house Rei had been almost bouncing in his excitement.
“Yea buddy, Uncle Livio is gonna take us the rest of the way.” At that Livo was reaching to help the boy down and Vash gave the silent command for his mount to lower down to the ground before he too dismounted and went for their saddle bags. Grabbing what they’d need for when they got to the biodome. “Ok, Pookie.” Petting his Tomas who looked at him as if following his every word. “You stay here like a good girl, and you’ll get lots of extra treats in the morning.” A low warble and the bird settled down into the sand hidden by the outcropping, Vash knew his Tomas would stay, the promise of treats or not.
“Do you have what you need Vash?” A nod to the white-haired man and both Vash and Rei were crawling into the sidecar attached to his motorcycle. The question had come up the night of everything being planned and the truth was, the Earth forces used a similar model for roaming patrols around the site. This way there would be less chance of them being caught.
“Yea. All in this bag here.” Patting the object beside his son in front of him.
“Alright.” Nodding before Livio fixed his attention on the small blond boy. “Now Rei, hold on to your Papa real tight and do exactly as he says. Can you promise me you’ll do that?”
“I promise.” A sleepy agreement as Rei still worked on waking up, but as soon as the engine flared to life Vash could feel the difference as the boy perked up. Sitting a little straighter and starting to look around, only to squeal as they jolted forward into the night his grip on Vash’s arm grew. A chuckle deep in his chest that was lost to the roar of the engine, he knew Rei loved the speed and the way the wind whipped through his hair.
In almost no time at all the trio were stopped by a hidden exit, Livio leading the way and Vash carrying both the bag with their clothes and Rei. Slipping inside Vash and Rei both paused, blinking at the sudden difference in light. A chamber separating them from the Biodome itself, this entrance was used more for emergency exit requirements and to check the area instead of having to walk all through the space.
“Alright Rei, let's get you wrapped up.” Vash and Rei both quickly added layers and switched their footwear to better insulate their feet as per the directions from Livio. Vash felt the amount of clothes he was pulling on was a little, well, overboard. He had spent almost a century and a half on the desert planet and in the freezing nights he had been chilled down to the marrow in his bone more than once. Yet this felt like overkill, him and Rei both looking more like marshmallows instead of people.
Feeling himself starting to grow warm, however, he turned to Livio, gloves still off, and checking his watch. “Alright Livio, tell me how long we have.”
Checking his own watch and humming “Two hours, so let's sync up our clocks for an hour and forty-five. I’ll be here to get you then.” Timings set Vash went down on his knees in front of Rei, checking the zipper and fastening on the boy's jacket and pants to ensure everything was done.
“Ready?”
“Ready Papa!” An enthusiast thumbs up from Rei, made cuter in his father's eyes by the fact only his thumbs were desirable from the material of his mittens. A final nod to Livio and the pair stepped inside the dome through the metal doors.
And Vash felt his heart freeze inside of his chest.
Not from fear, not from despair, not from anything but the simple wonder that gripped him as he looked at the landscape before him. A vision of white and green as far as his eyes could see, the light of the moons illuminating the area they were in more than the spotlights recessed into the walls around them.
It took his breath away.
Scant seconds later Vash looked down to see Rei looking out at the scenery with just as much awe shining in bright blue eyes, mouth parted as he stared out into the snowy expanse. “It’s pretty Papa.” The words and that whimsical tone that left his mouth with them made Vash’s heart swell in his chest, even if all they did was look at this landscape it had been worth the risk.
“It sure is buddy.” Father and son stood there in the snow for a few moments before Rei piqued up, not quite breaking the stillness.
“So. What do we do Papa?”
Throwing his head back and letting out a roar of laughter, Vash grabbed Rei and hefted him upwards planting a kiss on his cheek. “You’re Mama had a few suggestions, so I think we’ll try those first.” Stepping more out into the space, Vash sent the boy in his arms a wink before falling onto his back causing Rei to giggle like mad as his father served as a cushion for him. “She said we can make angels in the snow.” Spreading his legs and arms Vash moved them as if doing jumping jacks, Rei still laughing from where he was wedged against his father's side.
The duo stood and Rei tilted his head at the imprint left in the snow. “It doesn’t really look like an angel Papa.” The boy then fell himself and did the same thing his father had and he started laughing even more. “It’s soft Papa!” His voice rose and fell with his laughter as the soft fluff moved around him and all Vash could do was smile, dropping down just a little way away from Rei and repeating the action.
“It is, it moves like sand but it feels lighter.” Eventually, Rei stopped laughing and Vash sat up to see Rei shaking from the effort of holding the sound in. “Alright, buddy let me help you up.” Legs spread wide Vash scooped Rei up once more and both looked at the imprint.
“Papa, that looks more like the cookie cutter Mom says in an Angel.”
The smaller one of Rei did look far more like the shape and Vash just shook his head chuckling while agreeing with the boy. “It does.” Letting out a hum Vash brought his face closer to Rei’s and booped his nose with his own. “Now. According to your Mama, we can make snowballs and have a fight.”
“What’s a snowball?” Tilting his head once more Rei looked at her father rather quizzical.
“Well.” Putting his son back on his feet Vash knelt down and swept some of the snow into his hand. “She said you have to pack it together like this and try to make a ball.” He showed Rei what he was doing and Rei tried to do the same, but with a much smaller ball being made by his hands.
“What do you do once it’s made?” His natural curiosity took over as Rei let out one of his own hums that the larger he got the more Vash realized it was one of his mannerisms that his miniature was picking up.
“A few things. It can be used to make a snowman if I remember what she said, but it’s mostly used for snowball fights.”
“How’s that done?”
“You throw them at peop-” His words stopped as Vash suddenly found his mouth filled with snow from the ball Rei had formed being thrown squarely in his face and a giggling Rei was trying to make another quickly.
A bark of laughter and Vash was tossing his first snowball at his son before chaos ensued between them. Rei made the balls as quickly as his little hands could and threw them half-formed at his father. Vash for his part was taking his time making the balls, pretending to have terrible aim as he threw them at the boy with perhaps one in every five hitting their mark on the center of his chest. A lot less than the almost constant hits to his own body as both laughed and weaved between trees and a few rocks placed about the area.
Throwing a final one Rei flopped down into the snow once more, his tiredness starting to catch up to him from the activity in the middle of the night. Dragging his feet Vash made a show of walking closer before kneeling down in front of the panting boy. “One snowball left. Wanna try and make a snowman?”
A shake of his head no as Rei held out his hand for the ball. Vash gave it to him fully expecting to have the ball thrown at him, only for Rei to instead press it against his father's face a short giggle following it. Laughing himself Vash wiped the wet frozen pieces from his skin, taking note of Rei’s slowly reddening turning cheeks. Pulling his glove off to check the pink-tinged skin. “Hmmm, you might be chilly faster than I thought.” Checking his watch Vash felt the shock in his system, he and Rei had already been inside the dome for almost an hour and fifteen minutes.
“Is it time to go Papa?”
“Almost Rei. Anything else you wanna do?” Rei shook his head because pausing and sitting up, letting out a long breath and his eyes wide.
“Papa. Look at the cloud! It’s a lot bigger than when we were at the ice rink! And you’re making them too!” The excitement was palpable as Rei watched the little clouds rise before disappearing. “Why does it do that Papa?”
“I’m not fully sure Rei.” Vash fibbed, he wasn’t going to go into a long explanation as to what caused the vapor clouds, not when Rei was enjoying the simple wonder in them so much. “Maybe it’s just something a little magical.” Except Rei didn’t seem to be listening to him anymore. Or watching the vapor clouds they were exhaling.
No Rei was looking skyward, and Vash tilted his own eyes upwards and once more his body froze in wonder. It had started to snow inside of the biodome. Lifting Rei up Vash noticed the dampness clinging to the outside of his jacket as the realization hit him as to why they needed so many layers, yet with the amount of time left Vash pushed those thoughts aside. Carefully lifting the boy so his legs were dangled over his shoulders and perched atop him in a piggyback ride so he could look more at the sky.
It was a rather memorable sight. The gently falling snow, highlighted against the night sky and cast in the light of the moons made it seem almost as if some of the stars were falling down around the pair.
Vash could feel Rei shift atop his shoulders, his smaller chest hitting the top of his head and the sound of muffled wet slapping reached his ears. “What are you up to, Rei?”
“Trying to catch the white stuff, Papa.”
“They’re called snowflakes.” Chuckling as Vash adjusted his grip on the boy's legs, swaying on his feet as they both kept looking skyward and Vash started taking them back towards the entrance they had come in through.
“I want a closer look, but when I catch them they melt.” A clear pout discernible in his voice had Vash chuckling again.
“They are just frozen drops of water.”
“Isn't that ice Papa?”
“Sort of. I guess ice is a bunch of water frozen, where a snowflake is a tiny drop of it.” his voice was wistful as Vash trucked along, the sound of sluffing snow from his footsteps with the occasional wet thump of Rei's mittens.
“Wait, Papa.” Feeling Rei trying to wiggle in his hold to grab one of his arms, the one that led to his prosthetic. “They aren't melting!”
Sure enough, as Vash glanced at his gloved metal hand the snowflakes landing there were staying frozen, his hand of metal and wires with sensors not producing enough heat to melt them. “You're right Rei, they aren't.” Turning his hand so it was palm towards the sky Vash held it up closer to eye level so both he and Rei could see them.
“Why are they different?” A soft warm smile grew on his face at the curious nature of his little boy. It made his heart warm as the duo looked at the vastly different geometrical shapes in his hand.
It also had Vash remember a time long ago when he and Nai had been learning from Rem and the subject of freezing temperatures had come up. He could remember her voice as she spoke and her motherly soft smile as she tapped her cheek. “You’re grandma-”
“Your mom?”
A larger grin on his face at the interruption. “Yes, my Mama, told me it’s because when snowflakes form because they’re in the sky and just little drops of water, they grow bigger and make tiny crystals. She also said every single one is different, so they all have different patterns that they show.” A very limited version of what had been had about crystallization and the six-fold symmetry of snowflakes he had with Rem and Nai but for now Vash wanted the magic of the night to remain the center of Rei’s attention but it had given the older plant an idea on what his next science lesson with his boy would be.
“I wish we could bring some back to show Mom.” The little catch in his voice and Vash could tell his little boy had grown a little solemn.
“I know buddy, but it might not have been a good idea for her to come with us.” You and Vash had decided to wait to tell Rei that he was going to be a big brother soon, you more than your husband as you had told him you wanted to make sure nothing was going to happen to your newest sprout before telling him. “Speaking off your Mama, any reason you’ve switched from calling her Mama to Mom?” It had been eating at Vash the last few days, he knew it hurt your heart in some way but the fact Rei still called him Papa had a gnawing sensation in his belly.
“I.” A pause as Rei let his little hands reach down to grip his father's jaw. “I know big kids don’t call their mother’s Mama anymore. I heard it on the radio on some show, and I don’t want mom to worry about a stranger thinking I’m younger than I look.” As soon as the words sunk in they broke Vash’s heart, Rei was just a little boy and he was already carrying far more weight on his small shoulders than he should have been.
“Rei. My little Sunshine, you can call your mother whatever you want it doesn’t matter how hold you are. Those radio shows are meant for entertainment, you don’t need to worry about what they say during them if you aren’t doing them.” Licking his lips as his throat started to close up from the sorrow racing through him, Rei wasn’t supposed to carry their burdens. “As to strangers buddies, I know you’re thinking about how many steps your mom and I take when it comes to you. Those are to keep you safe buddy, so you can grow up happy and surrounded by love. You know if you worry about those things you can talk to your Mama and me about that right?” A rather somber conversation to have with his son but on some level Vash knew one day they would have to have such a discussion.
“I will now Papa. I just know you and Mama are always so busy and you worry so much.” Stopping a few feet from the exit Vash looked back up towards the sky, taking both of his hands and wrapping them around Rei’s smaller ones.
“You never need to be worried about adding to what we have going on Rei, we love you to bits. You’re our little miracle, and you have no idea how much I love you, my little Rei of Sunshine.” Squeezing his hands Vash smiled well aware his little sprout might not be able to see it. “Now, we still have a few minutes, wanna have another snowball fight?”
Hours later you find yourself sitting on your porch wrapped in a throw from your and Vash’s shared bedroom, and once you see a hint of a dust cloud on the horizon you rise heading towards the barn. It isn’t too long of a wait until Vash is trotting in with a very sleepy Rei in his lap rubbing his eyes.
“Welcome home, did you have a good time with your Papa tonight?” Hands held up to take Rei from his father and embrace him in your arms so both of you are swaddled in the warm blanket.
“Yes Mama, it was so fun.” A long tired yawn as Rei rubs at his eyes once more. “I wanted to bring you some snowflakes but Papa said they’d melt.” Your heart soars at being called Mama once more and that your little blond wanted to try and bring you back a snowflake or two.
“That was sweet of you baby, but your Papa was right.” Another yawn and you press a quick kiss into the golden locks that Rei barely protests, a clear sign he’s exhausted. “Let’s get you to bed, and you can tell me all about it in the morning.” Blowing a kiss to your husband before turning to head back into your little house, some hot coco can wait for another night when your boys aren’t exhausted.
#vash the stampede#vash the stampede x reader#trigun#trigun fluff#trigun stampede#tristamp#vash x reader#trigun maximum#trimax#post trimax#post Stampede#trigun dads#dad!vash#livio the double fang#livio trigun#holiday#holiday fluff#winter#twink writes
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Christmas, Present
Pairings: Dean/Cas, Charlie/Gilda
Words: 6102
Tags: Holiday fluff, college au, getting together, matchmaker charlie
Rating: T
Summary:
Charlie just wants her best friend to be happy, and has been trying for four years to help Dean meet his perfect match. A last-ditch effort and a laid back holiday party in the woods could either help Dean find the Christmas spirit he'd been missing out on most of his life, or else backfire spectacularly. She could honestly use a Christmas miracle...
Read it now on Ao3, or the entire story below the cut :)
Two Weeks Before The Party
Charlie only ever wandered through the earth sciences department once a week on her way to class, but she was thrilled the day she actually managed to catch Benny hanging up a flier for the forestry department’s annual Christmas tree harvest blowout bash. Every year, it was the biggest unofficial holiday party on campus, and every year she tried to use it as an excuse to play matchmaker for Dean Winchester. It wasn’t the only time she tried to play matchmaker for him, obviously, but she always put in her best effort for that party.
Not only was it just sad to spend the holidays alone every year, the guy worked himself to the bone year round. And since Charlie had failed for three and a half years to convince him he needed an occasional excuse to let loose once in a while, even consider dating seriously and having a social life outside of their small group of friends, she was worried about him. Sure, he went on an occasional date, but nothing ever seemed to stick for long before he went right back to his old routines.
She’d been convinced that the only person who could succeed at the task of winning Dean’s heart was someone who magically didn’t seem to exist. She’d devoted an exceedingly large portion of her free time to trying to find that person anyway. And since they were seniors, she felt like she was running out of time to find Dean’s unicorn.
She sidestepped her way through the crowded hallway and zipped in right behind Benny.
“How’s the planning coming?”
Benny slowly looked over his shoulder, and then dropped his gaze down to her with a grin on his face.
“We got the last of this year’s harvest cleared out today. Brought in a tidy little profit, but tomorrow we start clearing the ground and preparing for spring planting of the new saplings. We got a ways to go before we can move into party planning mode yet,” he warned her. “Plus we got two weeks yet before the big night.”
She peered around his shoulder to read the flier. Every year it was essentially the same. The forestry majors decorated the clearing, set up a big tent and hauled out tables and chairs, but it was really the guests themselves who were expected to do most of the work. It was bring your own everything. Most folks showed up with their choice of alcohol— which was mostly the cheapest beer they could get their hands on, and the assortment of holiday-themed adult beverages like cider, egg nog and mulled wine— and a wide variety of takeout. One year, someone managed to haul out an entire living room set, including the fake fireplace with stockings nailed to it.
For a college party, it was practically sedate, and always felt more like a bunch of kids hiding in the forest pretending to be adults than a literal group of adults throwing a raucous party. Not that things didn’t get wild out there in their own way, but your typical frat party it was not.
The vibe could best be summed up as a decompression session between finishing exams and preparing to venture home and face the family for a few weeks. For an event that took place in an often snow-covered forest clearing, it was cozy. Sheltered from the wind by next year’s nearly grown Christmas trees decorated with random assorted lights and garlands, and a big bonfire with all the scraps trimmed from the most recent harvest of pine tree branches that crackled and popped as people drunkenly attempted to toast marshmallows over it. But it definitely fostered an atmosphere of getting cozy with your neighbor, and as such Charlie was borderline desperate to get Dean to connect with someone there. This was her last chance to spark that kind of magical holiday cheer and romance for Dean before they graduated and inevitably all went their separate ways.
Now she just had to convince him to show up.
Six Days Before The Party
“Charlie, for the last time I am not gonna hike out into the woods to freeze my ass off and make nicey nicey with a bunch of people I barely know,” Dean said a week and a half later.
She really was running out of time now. The party was in less than a week, exams were almost over, and while she knew Dean was staying on campus over the holiday break, he’d overextended himself again and was still struggling to put the finishing touches on all the portraits he was painting people as holiday gifts.
“It’s just a few hours, Dean,” she wheedled, lying on his bed and studying for her final exam while Dean painted at his desk. “And you know me and Gilda, and Benny, and Max and Alicia, and a bunch of our other friends will be there too. You deserve a break.”
Dean snorted, turning toward her with a little glob of blue paint smeared on his cheek. “Yeah, and I’m gonna get three whole weeks of break just as soon as everyone else clears out of here and leaves me with peace and quiet.”
Charlie frowned at him, getting up and crossing over to him to remove the blue streak from his face with her thumb, showing him the results of her efforts when he gave her an odd look. He batted her hand away and grumbled as he went back to his work.
“You need a social break,” she replied. “You know, where you talk to actual living people instead of just the portraits you paint of them.”
“I’m talking to you right now,” he replied without bothering to look up at her.
She dropped back on to the edge of the bed, crossing her arms and watching him for another moment.
“Why are you so grinchy about the holidays? Because it usually doesn’t take this much work to get you to at least be sociable for an hour or two. There’s gotta be something there…”
Dean stiffened, and took a deep breath. Charlie was worried for a second that she’d crossed a line, struck a too-painful nerve, but she just waited to see how Dean would react. At least he wasn’t yelling. Eventually he dropped his paintbrush in the cup of dirty paint water, clasped his hands, and spun his chair around to face her.
“Well aside from the fact I don’t enjoy freezing my ass off—”
“You know there is a bonfire, right? It’s plenty warm around the fire.”
Dean continued as if she hadn’t interrupted him. “I hate all that fake holiday magic shit. The cheesy music, the plastic decorations, it all just sucks and I get enough of that just walking through the grocery store this time of year. I don’t need to seek it out on purpose.”
Charlie frowned at him. “You do understand that we mostly sit around complaining about exams and professors, and all the stupid shit our families are gonna drag us to back home, or all the stupid shit they made us do as kids. Worst holiday memory story wins a case of beer,” she said, hoping that might entice his inner Scrooge.
“Yeah, well, my worst holiday memory was the year our house burned down and took my mom with it. Dad spent it in a bottle, and I spent it trying to keep my infant brother alive. I was five.”
He’d watched the look of horror spread across Charlie’s face as he ranted at her, and then looked contrite. In a much gentler voice, and with a sad smile, he continued.
“Look, that’s all in the distant past, but I really fucking hate dredging it up every year under the guise of celebrating something most people think is jolly fun, you know? I really ain’t good company this time of year.”
“I’m so sorry, Dean, I had no idea,” she said.
His smile turned more genuine as he reached out and patted her knee. “It’s okay, you couldn’t have known. Sometimes it’s just easier to just stay out of everyone else’s way rather than be a constant wet blanket about it. I’m not here to piss in anyone’s egg nog.”
She nodded slowly, and took a deep breath. “That’s why you make paintings for everyone every year,” she realized. “Giving people the piece of yourself you can, showing them they’re loved, without having to say it out loud.”
Dean frowned at her, but didn’t disagree. “Sounds dumb when you just say it like that, but yeah. I can’t really be part of it, but I’m still there with everyone in spirit, I guess.”
After a few quiet minutes, Charlie dared to speak again.
“Have you thought that maybe you just need to make some better memories to pin to the holidays? Not that you could ever erase the pain, but maybe it doesn’t have to control the rest of your life.”
Dean sighed, and nodded. “Yeah, I tried a few times back in high school. Took a job as an elf at the mall one year and earned enough to buy Sammy some decent presents for once, but that didn’t really do much to improve my opinion of the holidays in general.”
“Yeah, capitalism will do that to you,” she replied, commiserating. “The mall is not known for being an epicenter of the true spirit of Christmas.”
Dean snorted. “Yeah, it definitely didn’t inspire the whole peace and goodwill shit, anyway.”
Charlie smiled at him. “Well, I promise I won’t push if you really don’t want to come, but if you do…”
Dean held up a hand like he was gonna protest again, but Charlie just talked louder at him.
“If you DO come, I also promise a chance to make some more pleasant holiday memories with a bunch of people who actually care about you. Worst case scenario, you get to hang out with me for an hour or two, and I’ll bring you home the second you decide you can’t take it anymore. I’ll even make you a thermos of that hot cinnamon cider you like that tastes like alcoholic apple pie.”
Dean actually let out a little laugh at that, and shook his head. “I appreciate that, Charlie, and I swear I’ll think about it, okay? But right now, I gotta get back to work here. And you probably do, too,” he reminded her, pointing at her open textbook and piles of notes.
Charlie knew she’d at least done the best she could. Now she just had to tackle the other side of her problem. Who to introduce Dean to at the party that had the power to not only un-grinchify him, but convince him the holiday spirit was more than just the ghosts of Christmas past.
Three Days Before The Party
“Hey, Cas,” Charlie said to the library clerk who helped her check out the last stack of books she needed to plow through before her final exam in the morning.
She and Dean had both known Cas for years, even if he was an even bigger enigma to her than Dean was. He was an art history major, and Charlie knew he shared a few classes with Dean every semester, but he’d been even more difficult to convince to let loose and have a good time than Dean. The only time she’d been able to convince him to join them for a game night had been using Dean himself as a lure, and then Dean had had the nerve to bail on them for a date that he ended up bailing on halfway through dinner when it was clear they really didn’t have anything in common. When Cas had shown up and learned Dean wouldn’t be there after all, he awkwardly tried to make the best of it, but ended up excusing himself after a single round of Cards Against Humanity. Charlie had tried to invite him again many times, but he always had some excuse at the ready.
She knew he worked hard, between his classes and long hours in the library, but she really didn’t know him well outside of that. Aside from what Dean had told her about him— since Dean spent a suspicious amount of time talking about him— she really didn’t know him at all. But maybe that was just the thing… maybe she’d been trying too hard to find the perfect person for Dean when he’d been right there all along. But if she wasn’t even sure Dean would drag his sorry ass out to the party, she couldn’t very well invite Cas based on the tenuous hope that Dean would be there, too. No, she realized standing there wearily pondering her options. This would require subterfuge. But like, mistletoe-festooned subterfuge. She was struck with a bolt of inspiration, and began laying the groundwork for a plan that was practically foolproof, even if these two idiots didn’t want to cooperate.
“Oh, hello, Charlie,” Cas said when he blearily scanned in her card and finally recognized her. “Still studying for your finals?”
“Yeah, four down, one to go. What about you? Are you finally free yet?”
Cas nodded, looking like he was about to pass out on the desk. “One more,” he replied, lifting up the open textbook from behind the counter to show her. “I’ve been cramming between helping desperate people find last minute study resources.”
“Sheesh, they don’t even cut you a break during finals week? You look like you need a coffee. Or maybe a nap.”
“I can sleep tomorrow at three o’clock, after I finish my last exam. I have it penciled in on my calendar.”
“Well, if you’re recovered by Saturday night, you should really come out to the forestry department’s Christmas party. It’s a nice, relaxing way to end out the semester.”
Cas squinted at her, confused. “I was unaware you studied forestry.”
Charlie couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her. “I don’t, they just put on the best holiday do on campus. You met Benny at that game night, right? He’s the current mastermind behind the party planning.”
Cas nodded slowly. “Yes, I remember Benny.” He frowned then. “I see him with Dean a lot.”
Charlie knew she was losing him, and considering his current lack of focus it probably hadn’t been the best time to bring it up, but it wasn’t like she had a lot of time.
“Well, it’s totally worth delaying your plans to go home for a day or two for. If you need a little warmth and human kindness.”
“Those things all sound lovely, but I am home, so I suppose I won’t be going anywhere for winter break.”
Charlie blinked at him. “Wait, I thought you were from Boston or something? Or is it Chicago? How did I get that so wrong?”
Cas let out an ugly little laugh. “Well, I was from Boston until my parents decided that I was no longer welcome in their home.”
“Oh, oh Cas, I’m sorry…” Charlie said, and between stumbling across Dean’s childhood trauma and now faceplanting directly into Cas’s family drama in an effort to get them both in the same place at the same time, she was pretty convinced she’d failed completely.
“It’s fine, Charlie,” Cas replied with a sad smile. “It’s better this way.”
“Well, then you have twice the reason to come out and share a little holiday cheer with friends,” she replied, smiling encouragingly at him and sliding one of the fliers with the party details across the counter to him when he handed back her books. “We’ll be glad to have you.”
“I’ll think about it,” Cas replied, taking the paper and setting it down on his textbook. “Good luck with your exam tomorrow.”
“Yeah, Cas, you too,” she replied, collecting her things and heading for home. She was pretty sure there was at least a 50-50 shot that either of them might show up. But at least she’d paved the way for part two of her dastardly plan.
Party Day
Charlie arrived at the clearing before dusk. She expected to pitch in with the setup, and had brought a massive collection of ornaments she’d pulled out of the trees after last year’s party. Benny and his crew were nearly done stringing up all the lights, the tent and dozens of tables and chairs had already been assembled and arranged, and the bonfire pit was nearly ready to set ablaze. The weather had been unexpectedly cooperative, and it was warmer than usual, if still technically cold. At least it wasn’t raining, Charlie thought as she set her tote bags down and began hanging sparkly plastic baubles on lit trees.
“We were wondering where all those went off to,” Benny said, grinning at her and making his way over with a large box of new ornaments to add to Charlie’s.
“Well, you guys usually end up chucking them out or losing them every year, so last year I decided to take matters into my own hands,” she said, hanging another bauble and then turning her own grin on Benny. “Reduce, reuse, recycle, right?”
“That’s much appreciated, Red. Shame you didn’t go into forestry.”
“Even the forestry service needs IT people,” Charlie replied. “It’s not too late to recruit me.”
Benny laughed. “Yeah, well, I tried recruiting Dean after he said something similar about architects and artists, and yet…” he waved his hands around at everyone busily working around the clearing. “He’s nowhere to be found.”
Charlie frowned. “Did he tell you he was coming?”
“I know better than to ask him, but when he dropped off me and Andrea’s Christmas presents last night, I mentioned we hoped to see him here. He was… noncommittal about it.”
Charlie snorted. “Yeah, I’ve been nagging him since last weekend. I figure it would take a miracle to get him to show his pretty face, even for an hour or two.”
“The boy is set in his ways,” Benny replied. “He’s got his reasons, and I’m not gonna pry too hard into them.”
“Well, if you do see him tonight, just let him be, okay?” Charlie pleaded. “If he shows up, he’s got his reasons, and I don’t think it would help to tease him about it.”
Benny considered her for a moment, really thinking about what she was trying to tell him. “What sort of shenanigans do you have up those big pink puffy sleeves, Bradbury?” Benny asked with one suspiciously raised eyebrow.
“I’m just here to have a good time,” Charlie replied, a little more sing-songy than she’d intended.
“You just leave me out of any trouble you’re thinking of stirring up,” Benny replied. “The whole point of this shindig is to leave for the holidays on good feelings.”
“That’s the goal,” Charlie muttered under her breath, and then shot Benny a winning smile and patted his shoulder with her fuzzy mitten.
“Mmhmmm,” Benny replied, and then sighed, getting back to his work. “Just don’t let me hear you were causing problems, and we’re all good.”
Charlie waited until after dark, patiently keeping an eye out for Dean and Cas, hoping she wouldn’t have to activate her emergency protocol. She tried to enjoy the Thai takeout her girlfriend Gilda brought a few hours later, only having a couple of drinks and not really letting herself go too crazy, but of course Gilda noticed how distracted she seemed.
“Okay, so what’s really bothering you?” Gilda asked after watching Charlie anxiously pick at her food for half an hour. “You’re not worried about meeting my parents, are you? Because I told you they’re going to adore you.”
“What? No, absolutely not,” Charlie replied, turning a reassuring smile on her girlfriend. “I know we’re gonna have an amazing time with your family. I was just hoping to see Dean before we leave. I worry about him all alone here over break.”
Gilda smiled fondly at her. “This is why I love you. You care so much about all the people in your life. If he doesn’t show up by the time we leave, we can stop by his place on our way out tomorrow. Maybe take him out for lunch and call it our own little party.”
Charlie felt the tension melt from her shoulders. “See, this is why I love you, too. You get me. That I just don’t know how not to care so much.”
They finished their food, then moved over to the fire pit where Max was handing out little prepackaged kits to make s’mores and tending the flames. Alicia passed out mulled wine in little paper cups, ladled from a huge soup pot perched carefully on a large flat stone by the fire while conversation turned toward everyone’s plans for the long break. Charlie let herself relax for a little while, but when she checked her watch she knew it was now or never for her little plan. She sighed, leaned in and kissed Gilda’s cheek, and then stood up.
“You just wait here, I’ll be back in a few minutes, okay?”
Gilda nodded, only a little confused as Charlie pulled her phone out of her pocket and stepped away from the warmth of the fire. Her first call was to Cas, because if she couldn’t convince him to come, there was no point to making her second call. He was a good guy, though, and she only hoped he’d recovered from his post-exam exhaustion enough to actually be awake as she pulled up his contact info. It was still early, she convinced herself. At least, it wasn’t too late to ask a favor from a friend.
She took a deep breath and dialed the phone. If she swayed a little on her feet to help herself get into character, nobody else had to know.
“Hello, Charlie, how are you this evening?” Cas said when he answered.
“A little drunk,” she said, slurring her words just enough to be believable. “I’m so sorry, Cas, but I didn’t know who else to call. Everyone else I know has already left for break, and you’re a solid dude who might take pity on a drunk girl and help her get home safe.”
Cas sighed, but she could hear the smile in his voice when he spoke again. “Where are you, I can come and get you.”
“At the forestry school party. I think someone spiked the cider, and things just got away from me after my third or fourth cup.”
Cas laughed outright at that. “Okay, I might need a few minutes to get ready. Will you be okay until I get there?”
“I’ll just stay by the bonfire. You won’t be able to miss me. I’m the one in a hot pink parka and a toboggan hat with pointy elf ears glued to the ear flaps.”
“Yes, your coat is rather memorable. I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes. You just stay put, and maybe don’t have any more cider.”
“Good advice,” Charlie replied. “Though it would’ve been better advice an hour ago.”
“See you soon,” Cas said.
“Thank you, Cas,” Charlie mumbled into her phone, and then hung up and quickly dialed Dean.
The drunk story wouldn’t work on him, she knew from long experience. Dean would just tell her to have Gilda or Benny drive her home. And without getting into a long back and forth, or lying and telling him she and Gilda broke up— which he would never believe anyway— it was easier to concoct an entirely different lie for Dean. One absolutely consistent trait of his was his reflexive impulse to help any of his friends out of a sticky situation. It overrode even his ingrained dislike of Christmas parties.
“What’s up, Charles. I thought you were supposed to be out partying tonight?” Dean asked when he answered.
“Well, I was having a lovely evening at this little soiree, but now my car won’t start and I’m kind of stranded here.”
Dean sighed, and she could hear him fumbling around already pulling his boots on to come out. “So you need a rescue? What’s the problem? Is it turning over at all or is your battery shot?”
“It just clicks and nothing,” Charlie said.
“Yeah, it’s probably a dead battery. Did you leave the lights on?”
“I don’t think so,” Charlie replied.
“Well, I got jumper cables in the trunk, but worst case scenario, I’ll just bring you home and we can figure out what’s wrong with it tomorrow when we got some daylight to work with.”
“Thank you so much, Dean. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”
“Where are you parked?”
“Right up close, not far from the bonfire pit. I’ll meet you there.”
“Stay warm, Charles. I’ll be there in less than ten,” he said, and Charle heard him juggle the phone to pull on his coat as he grabbed his keys and then hung up.
She stood there in the dark for a moment, eyes closed, and then took a deep, fortifying breath. This was all either going to go very, very well, or horribly, awfully wrong. There was no turning back now, though. She marched back to the fire pit and took Gilda’s hand.
“Would you care for a romantic stroll through the woods?” Charlie asked her.
“Only if you promise to tell me all the juicy details of whatever scheme you’ve been planning all night,” Gilda replied, getting to her feet with a knowing smile.
“Of course, now that we’ve crossed the Rubicon, I’ve been dying to tell someone for weeks, actually.”
“Well, then,” Gilda replied. “Lead the way.”
Before they ducked into the trees, Charlie made sure to tell Alicia, Max, and Benny they were going for a little walk. Now that her unwitting accomplices were all primed to play their parts, Charlie led her girlfriend through the softly glowing trees at the edge of the clearing. She led them a couple rows further into the dark, and then looped around under cover of the trees to the other side of the clearing to wait and watch.
While they walked, over the muffled sounds of talking and laughter coming from their friends a short way away through the trees, Charlie explained what she’d done.
“I just couldn’t stand the thought of them both being alone anymore,” she finished with, and Gilda touched a hand to her cheek.
“You are a good friend, Charlie,” she said. “Maybe a little overzealous, but your heart is in the right place.”
“So you don’t think they’re both gonna disown me for this?” Charlie asked, sounding genuinely nervous, because now that everything was out of her hands, she was.
Gilda shrugged. “Dean might not talk to you for a while, but he’ll have three grumpy, lonely weeks to get over it before you have to face him again. He’ll probably have forgiven you by then.”
Charlie let out a shuddering breath and gave a nervous laugh. “I hope so.”
Gilda peeked out through the trees when they heard the engine of Dean’s car pull up. Charlie snatched her arm and tugged her back into the shadows with a warning look. The plan would fall apart before they even had a chance for it to work if Dean caught them now, before Cas even showed up.
Charlie dared a glance, and saw Dean looking at her car briefly, and then wandering over toward the bonfire. He greeted Max, who tried to force a s’mores kit on him, and eventually Dean relented, taking the stick and the little bag of cookies, marshmallows, and chocolate bars from him before apparently asking where Charlie was. Max pointed off in the general direction of the tent, and Dean thanked him before heading over that way. A moment later, he found Benny, who gave him a big hug and offered him a drink that he declined. They talked for a few minutes before Dean remembered his mission, and Benny sent him off into the woods in the direction Charlie and Gilda had gone.
“It’s working perfectly,” Charlie muttered excitedly, as Cas arrived and wandered over to the bonfire moments later, and was also directed toward the tent after a short conversation with Alicia. A few seconds later, he disappeared into the woods, as well.
“So what do we do now?” Gilda asked, sounding as quietly excited and invested in their little game as Charlie was.
“Now, we wait. And if they don’t storm back out in the next few minutes and tear me a new one, we quietly slip away and let nature take its course,” Charlie replied.
In The Woods, Right Friggin’ Now
“Charlie?” Dean called out. “Where the fuck did you go?”
He stomped down the row of lighted trees bordering the clearing, and then pushed his way into the next row, muttering under his breath.
“So much for staying put where I could find you.”
It was only a few minutes before he heard a distinctly familiar voice call out nearby. He shuddered at the sound that had filled some of his most frustrated fantasies over the last few years since they’d become friends, and shoved all those unrequited feelings down when he realized what Cas was doing out there. Also, apparently, looking for Charlie. Well, that was a disheartening development. But at least he figured he could have some help, and possibly even a little company while he scoured the woods for his wayward friend.
Dean took a deep breath and called out for Charlie again. Not far away, Cas’s footsteps froze in their tracks. After an extremely awkward moment, Cas called out again, this time sounding a little confused.
“Dean? Is that you?”
Dean steeled himself, and headed toward Cas’s voice. “Yeah, it’s me. You looking for Charlie, too?”
Cas fought his way through a row of trees and appeared on the path just a few feet from him with a relieved sigh.
“Yes. It’s concerning that she apparently wandered off into the forest in her state.”
“Her state?” Dean asked, taking in the pine needles sticking out of Cas’s disheveled hair.
Cas nodded, brushing more needles from his coat. Dean couldn’t help but think he looked adorably festive.
“She called me asking for a ride home. She was quite inebriated, and she shouldn’t be wandering alone like that.”
Dean snorted, shaking his head, and realized exactly what Charlie had done. “She was deadass sober when she called me ten minutes ago because she was having car trouble.”
Cas’s eyes went wide, still not having fully understood what was going on, or why he was standing in a cold, dark forest. “Then why did she tell me she was drunk if she’s actually having difficulty with her car?”
Dean reached out without thinking and laid a hand on Cas’s shoulder, brushing some more pine needles away and grinning at him. “Dude, I don’t think she’s drunk or stranded. I’m pretty sure we’re being set up.”
“Set up?” Cas asked, tilting his head to the side in that adorable way of his. “For what?”
Dean shrugged, letting his hand drop. He hated to pass up his chance, especially since Charlie had plotted and schemed to get them both out there for some reason. But he knew Cas wasn’t into him in that way, much as it had pained him to realize it years ago. When Cas had pointedly ignored all his flirting when they’d first met, Dean took the hint and had accepted that Cas wasn’t interested in anything other than his friendship. It had been a struggle, and those feelings had never really gone away, but Dean had endured. Cas was far too important to him to cut ties with, even if it broke his heart just a little bit every time Cas smiled at him.
“I think she was trying to get the two of us, out here, alone in the woods.”
Cas’s confusion was not alleviated by that information, so Dean pressed on with a heavy sigh.
“Dude, she was hoping we’d run into each other, laugh about it, and forget all about her as the magic of holiday romance swept us away.”
Cas squinted at him for a moment, before a look of recognition finally crossed his features. “Oh, is this supposed to be like one of those Hallmark Channel movies she talks about?”
Dean snorted, feeling relieved that Cas was finally catching on, but still disappointed that it wouldn’t change anything between them.
“Yeah, her heart’s in the right place, but sometimes her head ain’t quite screwed on all the way.”
Cas nodded, apparently understanding. “Because you’re not gay. I’m surprised she made that kind of mistake.”
Dean blinked at Cas, wondering if he actually heard that right. “What?” was all he could muster.
“She is one of your closest friends, it seems strange she would set you up for a holiday romance with me.” His eyes narrowed again. “Unless this is some sort of prank on us?”
“What?” Dean blurted again, and then shook himself off. Maybe it was the cold wind that had picked up freezing his frontal lobe, or maybe it was just the shock of Cas’s certain but entirely wrong declarations about his sexuality in general and his interest in Cas more specifically. After years of dutifully repressing all those tangled feelings, Dean was entirely unable to stop the flood of words that escaped his mouth next.
“Dude… she set us up because she probably knows I’ve been borderline lovesick over you since the day we met. And for the record, she’s fully aware that I’m bi, which she figured out when I spent the first six weeks of freshman year dating Max.”
“What?” Cas blurted out after staring openmouthed at Dean for a full thirty seconds.
“I thought you knew. I mean, after I spent the first few months after I met you putting all my best moves on you, I figured you just weren’t interested in me that way, and I let it go.”
“What?” Cas repeated, looking truly shocked now.
Dean stared at him for a moment, and then just broke down laughing. “Oh my god, you really didn’t know. You just… didn’t get that I was flirting with you, like at all.”
Cas slowly shook his head. “No, I didn’t. You know I’m not very good at picking up on that sort of thing.”
“Yeah, I’ve come to realize that pretty recently,” Dean said, feeling a giddy kindling of hope in his chest for the first time in years. Maybe Charlie hadn’t been as entirely off the mark as he’d thought. Or maybe she’d just finally accidentally stumbled into the mark. “At the time, I thought you were just trying to let me down easy.”
After a few moments, Cas quietly asked, almost like he was too afraid to hope for the answer he wanted to hear, “So does this mean you would still consider flirting with me now?”
Dean raised an eyebrow and stepped right up into Cas’s personal space. “Does this mean you’d be interested if I was?”
Cas nodded slowly. “I have also been, as you say, borderline lovesick over you, so yes, I would.”
“Huh,” Dean replied as his heart threatened to beat through his ribs. “I guess I’m not about to pass up a Christmas miracle when it’s practically gift wrapped and handed to me.”
Cas didn’t even have time to ask what Dean meant before Dean leaned in and kissed him. A split second was all it took for Cas to recover from his shock and kiss Dean back.
Charlie, Gilda, and their car were long gone by the time Dean and Cas wandered back out of the woods. When he got back to his car, waiting to follow Cas back to his place for a warmer and more comfortable continuation of the evening’s events, Dean sent Charlie a message.
“You were right, I should’ve just agreed to come to the damn party.”
“Everything worked out, then? You’re not gonna hunt me for sport?”
Dean laughed, and replied. “Not for this. We probably owe you a better Christmas present now.”
Charlie just replied, “No more ghosts of Christmas past. You just go and make some happy new memories with Cas, and we’ll call it even.”
Dean sighed and started his engine. He waved to Cas as he got in his car and they headed out together. Yeah, maybe this was exactly the kind of holiday spirit he could live with.
Read it again (or just leave comments or kudos!) on ao3!
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Woven
- a Bringin' Home the Rain Interlude -
"Bringin' Home the Rain" Master List:
[ Part One ] 🌹 [ Part Two: "Salvation is a Deep Dark Well" ]
Fandom: MCU - Age of Ultron, Black Panther
Pairing: Ulysses Klaue x F Reader
Chapters: 1 of 1
Word count: 3.9k
Rating: Explicit
Summary: As winter begins to settle in, the darkening days are unexpectedly brightened when you end up with the chance to spend a little more time with Ulysses Klaue.
Summary: Explicit! Rating, Fluff, Christmas Fluff, Smut, Public Teasing, Semi-Public Touching, Yes There's a Bed and Breakfast, Hotel Sex, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, You Have to Be Quiet, Klaue is Still a Menace But He's a Soft Menace, Fingering, Being Held Down, Reference to Edging, Unprotected PIV, Creampie, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation
A/N: So I seem to have written some fluff, and holiday fluff, no less. I mean, it's still smutty fluff, and while I did go back and forth a bit with this, I really just wanted soft!Klaue, and finally reminded myself it's my story and I can write what I want (and apparently in whatever order I want 😂).
Also, yes, this this falls between the next two chapters of "Salvation is a Deep Dark Well" that as of this telling haven't been written yet. However it doesn't affect the rest of the story, it's more of a very self-indulgent interlude, and while I may come back to edit in a few details once chapter two is published, it doesn't change the narrative.
As always thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy this slightly late holiday fluff. ❤️
Header by me, banners/dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics. ❤️
[ A03 Link ]
Shades of early December silver and grey are rapidly setting over the landscape, the dark even faster.
Although the sun doesn’t set much earlier than it would if you were in New York City (ten minutes to be exact), being in the mountains makes it seem as though it does, and as the days tick by you find yourself craving a bit of light.
The holidays are coming, so you take the excuse to drape a strand of lights over your dresser, the soft glow helping to warm the nights a little.
Still, you’re quickly becoming bored of winter, and it's only exacerbated by the new loneliness that works its way between your ribs when Klaue is gone - which is, of course, most of the time. You can only fill your days with so much work, and now that snow is settling into the mountains your options for distraction are growing limited.
Among your searches for things to occupy you, holiday festivals come up, and after a little more investigation you discover that Bucharest has a Christmas market that happens to be the largest winter festival in Romania, with the opening night and tree lighting ceremony this coming weekend.
Klaue wasn’t supposed to be getting back for a couple more days and while you’d mentioned your plans to him, when you step onto the train platform you nearly trip over your boots when you recognize a familiar form.
Your stomach flips and something else swirls lower when you see him standing among the other passengers, hands in the pockets of a heavy black wool coat.
He hasn’t seen you yet so you make your way over to him, staying just behind his shoulder.
“Come here often?”
Klaue turns with a start, appearing as though he’s about to say something but his words falter when his eyes catch on your bundled form.
A coy grin slowly curves your lips at catching him off guard.
“Got in a little early, came here straight from the airport to see if I could catch you.” he finally explains “I’ll still need to make some phone calls, but I’ve freed up the rest of my day. If you’d like some company. But if you- ”
“Of course, yes!” You assure him, a newly familiar warmth in your chest that he met you here, that he’s offering. “How could I not take advantage of you being back early.”
As eager as you are, there’s still a layer of uncertainty.
It’s the first time you’ve spent any time with Klaue outside of the compound. Not to mention that very little of the time you have spent together has passed while you weren’t desperately wrapped in one another - certainly not a full day.
Though maybe it’s better this way; less time to overthink, less time to anticipate, simply having to adapt to a new situation. You’re good at that, you remind yourself.
It doesn’t mean that your thoughts aren’t tinged with frustration, because even though he’d only been gone a few days this time your body is already humming with desire as you board the busy train and settle into your seats against the window.
You manage to watch the scenery for a while, focusing on the mountains and the forests interspersed with other, smaller cities as you approach the capital, but your gaze is steadily drawn back to Klaue while he works across from you.
Your eyes drift to his mouth, the memory of his growl when you nip and tug at the pouting curve of his lower lip leaving you shifting in your seat.
The motion draws his eyes to your hips before sliding up your body with a knowing look.
The full train douses any chance of much more than heated glances, but as you look around you, you note that the passengers across the aisle seem to be thoroughly engrossed in their own conversations and devices.
And you get an idea.
Appearing to casually adjust your things, you move your coat to your side facing the aisle, bunching it so that it blocks your legs from the view of anyone not standing over you.
Or sitting across from you.
Klaue’s posture stiffens when he catches the movement of your hand along the seam where your crossed legs meet.
You keep your arm still so that just your wrist slowly flexes, shivering as your fingers sweep up and over the place between your thighs that’s already warm with arousal, before retracing the path back down again.
He's utterly still except for the muscles tensing in his jaw, eyes intent on the slow drag of your fingers.
When he licks his lips your breathing becomes shallower. The gentle tingling in your nerves spreads through your thighs to swirl deep in your core, and you realize you’re rapidly becoming more aroused than you anticipated, and as much as you had thrilled at a chance to tease him you’re going to need to stop.
You hand stills and you take a slow breath to collect yourself, reaching into your bag for your phone hoping to distract yourself for the rest of the ride. But even before you can unlock it a message notification pops up on your screen.
>Who said you could stop?
Your eyes widen, finding Klaue’s gaze sparking blue and expectant when you look up at him.
Patiently waiting for your phone to disappear back into your bag.
For your fingers return to their activity.
Clearly pleased that your tease has been turned on you, a smug grin on his lips when your eyelids flutter.
The light touch isn’t enough to get you close, but it’s enough to make you ache, to leave you fighting to suppress the shivers that roll through you with the slick clench of your cunt as you watch his eyes darken.
Glancing down between where his hands rest on his broad thighs you can see the fabric beginning to strain there, the ache deepening at the thought of his stiffening cock, but you’re satisfied at least that he’s not unaffected by your state.
Wrapped up in the haze of sensation you start when the conductor’s voice comes over the speaker to announce that you’ll be coming into Bucharest in less than ten minutes.
Hitching a sigh, the world around you filters back in, and you bite your lip at the realization of what you had been doing, of how easily he once again had you giving in to him, even here.
Eventually you take your phone back out, trying to calm yourself down before you reach your stop.
It’s late afternoon by the time the bus drops you off at the outskirts of the market grounds, only a brief glimpse of sun left as it slides between the clouds and the horizon, but you still have plenty of time to explore before the tree lighting.
Making your way through the busy streets you take in the festive decorations, a popular restaurant absolutely dripping with evergreen boughs and giant candy canes, innumerable strings of lights already illuminating the streets as dusk settles over the city
As you make your way through the streets, you begin to think that it might have been a better idea to book a hotel room rather than taking the late train back tonight, but it’s too late now, everything is likely booked solid in the area.
If it had just been you then you would have figured something out, found a cheap place on the outskirts of the city, but since Klaue is with you you’re hesitant to ask. On top of not wanting to be presumptuous of his time, while you’ve spent as much time together as you could since that first night, you haven’t woken up next to him before.
You don’t dwell in your conflicted thoughts for long, though, because you nearly get taken out by a group of Hora dancers as you round the corner of a cobblestone street.
Klaue quickly maneuvers you out of the way of the oblivious dancers lost in their steps, your arms instinctively reaching to tighten around his waist as you laugh at your lack of awareness.
“I've got you,” he chuckles, not letting you go. “Are you alright, darling?”
“Yeah, no, I’m good.” You assure him. “Apparently I need to pay a bit more attention around here. ”
Being pressed against his body warms you and your eyes can’t help but flick to his mouth again, startled by how badly you want to kiss him right now.
But you’ve never kissed him when you weren’t, well, naked - or about to be. A heated press of lips when you have to say goodbye, sure, but although you’ve both opened up a bit you’re aware this isn’t exactly the kind of relationship (not that you’re sure you could call it that, exactly) that allows for moments of casual affection.
So instead you smile and tip your chin down, and both of you take a wide berth around the circling dancers.
But your heart still races when he doesn’t let you go, keeping you tucked against his side as you approach the bustling Square.
The delicious smells of festival food wafting over you are a quick reminder that you haven’t eaten since breakfast, too distracted on the train to think much about it, so as soon as you arrive you make your way to food cottages.
Spiced kebabs for him and a steaming vegetable stew for you, followed by plum dumplings and papanasi, a kind of cheese donut that has no right to be as good as it is, and the time you’re standing in the square awaiting the lighting of the tree, you’re warm and satisfied.
A light dusting of snowflakes begins to swirl as the crowd counts down, one section briefly faltering until with a rousing cheer they all light up with the rest, glittering bright.
It’s bright and beautiful and exactly what you needed, but when you glance up to see Klaue’s reaction you find yourself wishing for a little less light, your cheeks growing hot against the night air when you see that he’s looking at you instead, the glint in his eyes perhaps not entirely a reflection of the lights that surround you.
Afterwards you peruse the eclectic mix of Christmas ornaments, stoneware and other handmade items, sharing a little about your days as you wander between vendors.
You describe a type of welding certification you’re thinking about getting, even though you’d really only need it if you were working in aerospace tech, and Klaue mentions to you that he’ll be away for an additional few days next month for a conference in Vienna.
Disappointment jabs between your shoulder blades at the fact that he’ll be gone for longer than you already expected, but there’s a sense of relief, too, that he’s still letting you know about his plans - as much as he can, at least.
You hadn’t really planned on making any purchases tonight, but at a cottage selling embroidery and needlecraft a crocheted patchwork blanket catches your eye, the woven pattern making you think of tea and honey, of coming in from the cold and being made warm on a dark winter day.
After collecting your find, Klaue makes a phone call while you double back one more time to pick up some handmade cards to send to a few friends, pocketing the device as you make your way back towards him.
“Ferris wheel, then?” He asks, tilting his head towards the brightly lit ride.
“Yes! Oh, wait..” Pulling out your own phone you ucheck the time.
“Oh,” you deflate a little. “Actually we should probably start heading to the train station, it’s getting pretty late. Can’t say I’m looking forward to how busy it’ll be.”
“Well, if you wanted to - everything near the market is full, but there’s a place on the other side of the city that has rooms available.”
You stare at Klaue for a moment. Having already dismissed the idea of staying somewhere in Bucharest tonight you’re unable to hide your surprise that he’s suggesting it. Still fighting the thought that you’d be imposing on his time, you mentally point out that he wouldn’t have bothered finding something if he didn't want to.
He raises an eyebrow.
“You really don’t want to take the train back tonight, huh?” You try to joke in an attempt to disguise your eagerness.
He steps slowly toward you, leaning in until the scruff of his beard brushes your cheek.
“I really don’t want to wait much longer to make you come, darling.”
He must hear the hitch in your breath as you shudder at his words, pulling back to give you a knowing grin.
“Ferris wheel it is, then.”
***
The glittering view as you start to rise is stunning but neither of you manages more than a few cursory glances out the window before you’re moaning into his mouth and he’s sliding a hand between your legs. A pleased sound gritted from his throat when you rock eagerly into his touch, his lips tasting of frost and spiced wine when your tongue slips between them.
Your own fingers tighten around the heavy fabric of his coat to steady yourself, one hand sliding above the collar to brush over the warm skin there, short shorn hair prickling beneath your fingers when they curl around the back of his neck to pull his mouth more firmly against yours.
Unfortunately it feels like no time at all before the wheel is slowing and Klaue is reluctantly removing his hand from your now aching sex, your hips bucking when he gives you one last firm caress as you come to a stop at the bottom once more.
“I’ll call us a taxi, then?” He breathes against your lips.
“God, yes.”
A gentle but steady snow is falling by the time you arrive at the small bed and breakfast, the thickening blanket of white softening the glow of multi-coloured lights on the trees outside.
The owners quickly realize that you have no bags with you, and they’re kind enough to offer some pajamas for you to borrow in the form of sweatpants and shirts.
Unfortunately on the ride over Klaue had received a call about something that requires his attention for a while longer, so you’re currently still clothed and sitting next to him on the bed, your new blanket draped over your legs,
You’d picked up “Jurassic Park”, the only english book on the small shelf in the common area, and you try to read a bit while he wraps up his business, stealing the occasional glance at him while he works.
When a hand slides over to squeeze your thigh you shift instinctively into his touch, able to feel the heat of his palm even through the woven fabric.
“Patience, my darling.” He hums, his teasing smile deepening the creases around his eyes.
“Oh, you have no idea how patient I’ve been, Ulysses,” you reply, biting your lip at the soft growl that betrays his own restlessness has you biting your lip.
As antsy as you are, and while it’s unlikely you would have been able to name it, exactly, you also feel content. Lulled by the shape of him at your side, the sound of Romanian Christmas choir music drifting through the walls, and the electronic tapping from his phone.
Your eyes wander around the room, amused by the volume of kitschy knick knacks and holiday decorations spread across the shelves, including a candle in the form of three Victorian carolers that looks to be many faded years old, yet seemingly never burned.
While you’re wondering whether the tiny bust paintings hanging by the door are family of the owners or just thrift store finds, Klaue shifts to face you.
Lifting the edge of the blanket he nudges you over so that you’re both lying on your sides beneath it.
“All done?” You ask as his arms wrap around you, pulling you against him, letting out a pleased sigh when you feel the already stiff ridge of his erection against the swell of your ass.
“Finally.” The word vibrates through you as a hand slides down between your legs, curling around your clothed mound.
You immediately arch into him, reveling in the twin sensations of his fingers pressing damp fabric against your cleft and the slow grind of his hips behind you.
“Even like this I can feel how warm your cunt is.” Klaue rumbles softly. “You’re wet, too, aren’t you?”
“You know I am,” you sigh, trying to keep your voice low. Aware that if you can hear music through the walls it won’t take much to be able to hear you.
“I should take my time with you. Especially after your...bahaviour on the train.”
HIs hand finds its way under your shirt, and you note the jut of his hips against you when his palm slides over your bra to cup the soft swell of your breast, thumb and forefinger plucking at the stiffening peak of your nipple beneath the fabric.
“Should run my fingers over every inch of your body,” he rasps, an urgency filtering into his movements, into the rough, whispered rush of his words as his fingers reach back down to tug at the waist of your pants.
Quickly you move to unbutton them, working them down along with your panties as you feel him shifting behind you, and then the hot length of his cock is sliding against your folds, slicking himself with your arousal.
“Should tease this needy little pussy until you're ready to beg.”
Klaue bites back the last word as he presses the thick head of his cock against your entrance.
“But fuck, I need to feel you come.”
Normally so thorough with you before letting his control slip, Klaue’s bare need has you unraveling and your moan is deep and unexpected when he suddenly sinks into you, a response to the sweet desperation in his voice as much as from the relieving stretch of his cock.
“I know how much you love to make pretty sounds for me,” he pants in your ear, his large hand kneading the flesh of your hip and thigh. “But you’re going to have to be quiet tonight. Can you do that for me, darling?”
Half-stretched and aching, you somehow manage to swallow your moans, taking a few deep breaths to steady your voice enough to speak.
“Yes.” You finally breathe in a low, half-whisper. ”l’ll be good.”
He nudges deeper and you bite your lip to hold back the sounds that want you to make, that he draws from you so easily now.
“Yes, you will.” Klaue hums against your neck.
The only sounds in the room now are your panted breaths intertwined with the slick sounds of his cock slowly thrusting into you, the gentle creak of the bed frame beneath your shifting bodies.
Suddenly pulling the blanket off of you he grips your ass, pressing you open so that he can see where your tight hole is stretched around him, and while he normally takes his time to relish the sight he only lasts a few more deep strokes before he’s shifting you onto your stomach, his weight and his cock pressing you down into the mattress.
With your pants still bunched around your knees Klaue impatiently nudges your legs apart as best he can before working a hand beneath the curve of your hip and you buck, a squeak slipping from your throat when his fingers find your clit.
His chest heaves against your back, the tight, circling pressure of his fingers firm and insistent as your body swiftly draws taught beneath him.
Instinctively you try to respond, to roll your hips into his touch as you chase the rough crest of your orgasm but you’re trapped, the broad warmth of Klaue’s body holding you in place as his fingers relentlessly work your clit until your muscles begin to flutter and tighten.
”There you go” A rough whisper clenched between his teeth. “Let me feel you. Come on, darling, squeeze my cock.”
You try to stay quiet but you can’t help the tremulous whine that escapes your throat as your climax surges through you, Klaue letting more of his weight press into you as your body spasms beneath him, every muscle trembling as you clench hard around his cock.
“Christ you feel so good. Fuck, you’re going to make me come, oh fuck- ”
The tight grip of your cunt seems to be all that he needs tonight because with a sudden hard jerk of his hips you feel the blissful throb as he comes, muffling his own moan against your shoulder as spends himself helplessly inside you.
Klaue continues to grind into you as the pulsing of his cock slows, making sure his cum stays plugged deep in your cunt exactly where he knows you want it, the stroking of his fingers not letting up even as you twitch and gasp beneath him.
“One more, Mot. Please. For me.”
Your clit flutters at his pleading words, and barely able to hold back your cries, your hand flies up to cover your mouth as he continues to work your swollen bundle of nerves, his hand slippery with your release that leaks out around where he stays buried in you.
Aching and breathless, feeling the muscles of his forearm flexing against your hip, your body finally succumbs to the needy slide of his fingers, muffling your half-swallowed whimpers behind your hand as he expertly coaxes a second, softer orgasm from your oversensitive sex, gravelly praises whispered against your ear as you stiffen and shudder beneath him.
Klaue stays pressed against your back as you both slowly recover, the weight of him warm steady, calming the tremble in your limbs as you float down through the afterglow.
Eventually you let your fingers fall away from your lips.
“I’m sorry…I couldn’t- I tried to be quiet,” you stammer. “Wanted to be good, I- ”
“You’re always good for me, darling.” Klaue soothes, pressing his words and lips against your neck, behind your ear. “Always.”
***
After a quick shower you both change into your makeshift pajamas, then turning off the bedside lamps you settle back under the knit blanket, the lights filtering through the curtains casting a warm glow on the walls of your room.
“Come with me.” Klaue mumbles into the crook of your neck.
You were almost asleep, and it takes a moment to realize that he’d spoken.
“Come with…where?”
“The conference. Vienna. There’s a gala.”
“Are…are you awake?”
“If you’re asking whether I’ll remember this in the morning, the answer is yes.” Klaue chuckles softly. “You said you’d never been. Beautiful city. Wear a beautiful dress for me.” His voice drops as he pulls you more firmly against him.
You pause, considering, unable to ignore the soft thrill in your chest that he’s willing to share this with you.
Another thread of your life intertwining with his, invisible threads looping over one another and knotting tight, tugging together into a pattern you’re still trying to bring into focus.
“Alright.” You sense a notch of tension release from Klaue’s body when you finally give him your answer. “I’d like that.”
It’s difficult for you not to overthink, especially when thoughts of what you’re going to do when your contract ends are becoming more persistent every day.
But knowing that you’re going to have to return to reality tomorrow regardless, right now you allow yourself to relax against him. With the tops of his thighs fitting against the backs of yours, soft music floating at the edge of your consciousness and his hand resting warm against your hip, eventually you find yourself caught in a net of sleep and dreams.
A/N: I was looking a little wistfully at all the lovely holiday fics that were coming out, and thinking that I didn't really think I had anything that would really work. Then I got to playing around with a mood board and accidentally inspired myself with Christmas market thoughts, and now here we are!
Thank you for reading, and I hope you get through the remainder of the holiday season with as much light and little stress as possible. ❤️
Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all you lovely people!
#ulysses klaue x reader#ulysses klaue x f reader#ulysses klaue x you#ulysses klaue smut#ulysses klaue#x reader#bringin' home the rain series#salvation is a deep dark well fic#woven#holiday fluff#fluffy smut#mcu fanfiction
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I yam so lucky to have you
It’s the kind of brilliant, cloudlessly cold day in early winter that makes Jaskier want to cuddle up in a sweater with a mug of spiked cider. Sipping wine and cooking a big dinner in an oven-warmed kitchen with Geralt is even better. The scent of fresh baked bread and sweet potatoes lingers in the air of their little kitchen.
He sweeps chopped pecans into a bowl and makes a distressed little noise as he notices a scattering of tiny green threads lingering in the mix, and Geralt hums a little inquisitive sound from his spot at the sink where he’s diligently washing dishes.
Anyone who had just met the two of them might be forgiven for assuming that Geralt would be the one with a talent for cooking. The man is frighteningly competent at so many things, and it would make absolute sense for that competency to extend to the kitchen. Just like one might assume that Jaskier, flighty and forgetful with a fondness for processed cheese snacks would be totally hopeless and likely to burn a pot of boiling water.
They’d be wrong. It’s not that Geralt can’t cook. He can! And the five dishes that he rotates between are all…solidly good. Exciting? Complex? Adventurous? Flavorful? Not at all. But reliably edible, hearty, nutritious, efficient things that will feed the two of them for days. Jaskier has grown to hate them and if he ever spends a week eating Geralt’s totally okay fried rice again he might scream.
So, anyway, Jaskier is the one who cooks most of the time, while Geralt helps by cleaning as they go and fetching ingredients as his boyfriend asks for them. They love cooking together like this, though, and a big holiday meal like this is a labor of love for both of them.
Jaskier purses his lips and lets out a blustery sigh as he swipes at the sneaky little specks of green that are cling to his sliced apples.
“Well, I guess there’s just going to be a little bit of dill in everything until I stop and wash this fucking cutting board,” he mutters in exasperation. Every time he thinks he’s gotten rid of all the fluttery little bits, there’s one more. It’s fine, it’s not enough to add flavor, just enough to be obnoxious.
Geralt hums again before he speaks up, eyes on the sink and the pot that he’s diligently scrubbing. “We’ll dill with it.”
It takes a moment for the awful pun to land. When it does, Jaskier’s eyes widen in dismay at the apples under his knife, and his mouth opens wordlessly for a moment before it clicks shut again.
“After all, you didn’t do it dill-iberately,” Geralt continues after a long beat of silence.
Jaskier sucks his lips between his teeth tightly and shakes his head, refusing to look at the smirk he’s sure is on his boyfriend’s face.
“It’ll still be dill-icioous,” Geralt says, completely deadpan.
Jaskier snorts and drops the knife with a clatter before he spins on his heel to leave the kitchen laughing in delighted horror. This is the man he loves, who he has chosen to spend his life with. By the time he circles the livingroom and returns, his eyes are streaming.
Geralt is standing by the sink in his sock feet, looking sinfully gorgeous in his tight henley with a dish towel thrown over one shoulder, his hair twisted back in a messy, loose bun, and grinning with pride at his horrible puns. Jaskier loves him so much it makes him stupid. He’s still shaking his head helplessly when he steps close to loop his arms around Geralt’s waist and buries his face in the man’s ridiculous chest.
“You’re really proud of yourself, aren’t you,” he mumbles into the firm muscle under him. He even smells amazing, the bastard.
“Mmhm.” Geralt gently pats him on the back with one huge hand.
“I hate you so much.”
“No you dont. You love me,” he teases.
Jaskier sighs and steps back over to his apples. “Yeah, you’re right. I really, really do.”
He can’t imagine a better way to spend a long weekend than this.
on AO3 here
#holiday fluff#geraskier#modern au#geralt's terrible dad jokes#The witcher#my fic#they're in love your honor
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A/N: Just imagining some holiday fun in the mansion🎄
Arthur, Isaac, Theo and Leonardo (and reader)
holiday fluff
Word Count: 1510
Arthur - Holiday Wishlist 🖋
You wait, sitting at the end of the bed, holding your notebook to your chest as you watch Arthur’s pencil scratch across paper. Impatiently you nudge his bare foot with yours, a gesture of casual, known intimacy. “It doesn’t take you this long to write a whole novel!”
He looks up at you, those deep blue eyes framed by his dark glasses, and grins. “Has anyone ever told you, luv, that patience is a virtue? This requires careful thought.” He returns his attention to his list, his grin widening at the huff of air that escapes you. You have the feeling he is deliberately writing slower now, keeping you in suspense.
Finally he nods, satisfied. “Here we are. Exchange on the count of three. One.” He meets your gaze and there is such mischief in the curve of his smile, the arch of his brow, that you can’t help but smile in return. “Two." He stops, as if considering whether he should go on and you kick him, playfully. "Arthur!" "Oh, alright. Three!" You hold out your lists at the same time and exchange hurriedly, each immediately looking down, eager to see what the other has written.
Your brows rise with every wish you read. “Arthur. Number one is far too messy. The tinsel would be everywhere. Number two….I can’t bend that way. Number three we HAVE already done. Number four is a no go because I value Theo’s friendship and he would certainly have a problem with that. I….” You scan the list, frowning. “Is there anything on here that isn’t……lewd?”
You look up to see him frowning, lowering your list. “Is there anything on yours that IS?” You stare at him and he stares at you and for a moment all you can hear is the nervous ticking of the clock on his desk. And then you both burst out laughing. Setting your lists aside he opens his arms and you slide into them, sighing as he lifts your hand to his lips, kissing the back.
As the laughter settles back into your bodies, leaving behind big grins, Arthur cuddles you close, quiet a moment before he finally speaks. “How about a deal. You get number one on your list and in return……I get number six.”
You shake your head, not in negation but affection. “That sounds….fair.” His eyes widen and his smile sharpens in a way that suddenly has you wondering, slightly panicked: Wait……..what was number six?!
Isaac - Gingerbread House🧱
He steps back, icing knife in hand and smiles, satisfaction written all over his sweet face. “I believe I have successfully executed my design with the highest possible structural integrity at this particular size, with this particular material.”
You look up from the candy you are sorting, the basis of your gingerbread decorations, a slow smile spreading across your lips as you wipe your hands on your apron and walk over to the kitchen table. Sliding an arm around his waist, you take in what he has done, beaming with pride and astonishment: a perfect miniature of the mansion, made entirely of gingerbread. Even the rounded part in the front and the chimneys are there and in perfect proportion. “Isaac, this is incredible! You are incredible!”
His cheeks turn a faint pink, both at the way you are holding him close to you and the compliment. He picks up a smaller, sharper knife and gestures toward his construction. “I shall now lightly etch the current windows and doors onto the outside in order to assist you with your decorative sweets.” His cherry-blossom eyes are bright at both the challenge and the knowledge that he is helping you.
You glance at him. “That is….a lot of windows and doors. Are you sure you know exactly how many there are on each side of the mansion?” His smile answers your question. Of course he knows. Finding you and your inquiry endearing, he can’t help but lean down and press a quick kiss to the tip of your nose. It’s your turn to blush. “Shall we continue?”
Your heart feels like it may just burst at the open display of affection he shows you. You can't help but return the favor, leaning up to place a loving kiss on his cheek. "Let's."
Theo - Decorating the Tree 🎄
You stand back, arms crossed as you examine the tree in the salon. You promised Comte you would make it sensational. Your critical gaze runs over the tree, which seems to straighten up, wanting to present itself as regally as possible. The red and gold ornaments shine in the firelight like jeweled orbs, the red velvet ribbons you tied to some of the branches are an elegant yet almost whimsical touch. The glossy gold star at the top twinkles. And yet….
“That face is never a good thing.” Theo’s deep voice cuts through your thoughts as he strolls into the salon, a mug of his favorite mulled wine in his hand. You turn, gesturing at the tree with a frustrated hand flap. “There’s something missing. I can’t quite put my finger on what though.”
He comes to stand next to you, his beautiful blue gaze looking over the tree, filtering it through the eye of an art lover, a man with a gift for the aesthetic. Lifting the warm mug to his lips, he considers the tree as it nervously awaits judgment.
“Klatergoud.” As quickly as the Dutch word leaves his lips, the mug is on an end table and he is gone, striding from the room on long legs. You blink, wondering what just happened. But knowing the man you love, you trust he knows what he is doing. You walk over and pick up his mug, taking a long sip. Wow, Napoleon really out did himself. This stuff is amazing.
You’ve nearly emptied it when Theo strides back in, muttering to himself in grumpy Dutch. You think you catch the word “Arthur” and “idioot”. In his arms is a small brown box which he sets on the ground, crouching to open it and reach inside. He comes out with a handful of gleaming gold tinsel.
Excitedly you walk over to help him, reaching inside and taking out a large clump of sparkling goodness. “What does this have to do with Arthur?” you ask, carefully spreading out the tinsel across the branches the way Theo is.
His broad shoulders heave with a sigh. “He wondered if it might be a fun addition to…..his nocturnal activities.” You can’t help but laugh out loud. “Tinsel? How on earth…..you know what. Nevermind. I don’t want to explore that any further.” This earns you an amused Theodorus smile and you feel a warmth in your heart that has nothing to do with the fire in the salon.
After working together in companionable silence, you both step back to admire your handiwork. Theo wraps an arm around your shoulders, a small, satisfied smile on his lips. “There.” You turn, reaching up to catch his chin and then rise on your toes to press a kiss to those smiling lips. “Thank you.”
“Hondje…..why do you taste like my wine?”
Leonardo - Wrapping Presents 🎁
You’re on the floor of your bedroom, surrounded by a mountain of wrapping paper, ribbons, and boxes. The man you love is lying on your bed, snoring lightly, peacefully lost in the delicate web of his dreams as you continue to wage war with the very last present you have to wrap.
When you saw the small wooden clock in the window of the antique store, you knew right away you wanted to give it to Comte. There was an elegance to the rich mahogany of the wood, the ornately carved base, the black hands shaped like arrows. It was a stunning piece. And it is hell on earth to wrap. You have tried fitting it into boxes you already own and none of them are suitable. You have tried simply wrapping it in paper but the sharp edges keep maliciously stabbing tiny holes through it. You even entertain the thought of simply tying a ribbon around it and washing your hands of the whole affair, but that feels like giving up. And you are not a quitter.
“Damn it!” You’ve now ruined your third piece of wrapping paper which joins the balled up other attempts in the corner. Any more paper scattered around and your room will start looking like Leonardo’s.
Your cursing wakes him. One golden eye assesses the situation: your frustrated scowl, the smug clock ticking away, the crumbled paper. He pushes himself up, smiling slowly. “Cara mia? What did the clock do to you? Must I fight it?” You throw a crumpled wrapping paper ball at him before getting up off the floor. “I need a drink. I’ll be back.”
You journey to the kitchen, thinking angry, destructive clock thoughts as you pour yourself a generous mug of Napoleon’s famed mulled wine before shuffling back to your room, mentally preparing yourself for round four. You open your door and then freeze. Leonardo is sitting at your desk. The clock is perfectly wrapped in beautiful snowy white paper with a sparkling silver bow of perfect proportions at the top in front of him.
“How did you….” Stunned, you can only look from the clock to him and then back. He grins, a touch smug. “I am very good with my hands.” He holds out his arms and you’re already walking towards him, flooded with a mix of gratitude and relief and something warmer than them both. “C’mere, tesoro, and I will show you.”
Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @redheadkittys @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @neoqueen-sailorvirgo @myonlyjknight @kissmetwicekissmedeadly
#ikemen series#ikemen vampire#ikevamp#ikevamp arthur#ikemen arthur#arthur conan doyle#ikevamp isaac#ikemen isaac#isaac newton#ikevamp theodorus#ikevamp theo#ikemen theodorus#ikemen theo#theodorus van gogh#ikevamp leonardo#ikemen leonardo#leonardo da vinci#christmas fluff#xmas fluff#holiday fluff#ikemen fanfiction#ikemen fanfic#otome fanfic#violettwrites
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The Christmas Morning Surprise
Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.8k
Summary: On Christmas morning you try to surprise Michael with breakfast, but you what you didn't expect was that he had a Christmas morning surprise for you, too.
Warnings/tags: 18+; A bit of smut and some tooth-rotting holiday fluff with a sweet Mikey
a/n: Surprised even myself being able to get yet another holiday fic finished in time! Hope y'all enjoy and feedback is always appreciated!
Michael Kinsella One Shot Tag List: @shouldbestudying41 @kmc1989 @ebathory997 @mattkinsella @shiorimakibawrites @wkndwlff @pinkratts @lazyxsquirrel @1988-fiend @stilldreaming666 @will-delete-this-later-probably @yarrystyleeza @dramaholic18
A faint buzzing noise near your head woke you, gradually drawing you out of your peaceful sleep. It took your mind a moment to realize that the sound was the alarm you’d set on your phone last night before you’d gotten ready for bed. In a rush to silence it, your hand flew out from under the covers, cold air instantly chilling your bare skin. Quickly you swiped your finger across the phone screen on the nightstand beside you, ending the alarm before the vibration could wake up Michael and disturb him.
Slipping your arm back under the warm covers, you carefully glanced over your shoulder and back at Michael behind you. He was laying on his side facing you, one arm resting on the bed just next to you and partially out of the blankets. He looked peaceful lying there with the faint morning light washing over his features. You secretly always loved when you woke before him, often taking a moment to watch him sleep. It was one of the few times you ever saw him without a single crease of worry visible on his face.
As you lay there watching the steady rise and fall of his chest while trying to work up the motivation to get out of the warm, comfortable bed, you noticed his brows beginning to faintly furrow together. The corner of his lip began to twitch soon after and a frown crossed your own mouth when he emitted a faint groan. His eyelids fluttered open before he blinked a few times, his hazel eyes landing on you.
“Ya already awake, love?” Michael’s sleep-riddled voice croaked out.
“Yes,” you answered quietly, “but ya can sleep in, Mikey. I set my alarm to wake me in order to get somethin’ ready for ya this mornin’.”
You reached a hand out, lightly scratching Michael’s beard with your fingers. His eyelids slowly lowered as a sluggish smile pulled his lips upwards. A satisfied hum rumbled out of him and you tried to bite back a laugh. He reminded you of a dog getting scratched behind its ears in just the right spot with the way he often reacted to your affectionate beard scratches.
“Ya were out late last night,” you continued gently. “Go back to sleep, Mikey. I know ya could use the rest and we don't have anywhere to be until later.”
“Mmmph,” he grunted out, his eyelids struggling to reopen. “Kinda hard to fall back asleep now that I'm startin’ to wake up. Especially seein’ your beautiful face first thing in the mornin’.”
Your bottom lip protruded in a playful pout as you held his tired gaze. The last thing you'd wanted to do was wake him early this morning. You'd meant to just slip out of bed and finish making your surprise Christmas breakfast before he woke up. You'd already done most of the work for the homemade cinnamon rolls last night while Michael was out dealing with his family so that all you'd have to do this morning was bake them in the oven and ice them. But now you'd gone and accidentally woken him early.
Though an idea soon struck you as you took in the sight of the tired smile still spread along his lips. Gradually your fingers slipped out of his beard, sliding upwards to caress his cheek. Slight confusion crossed his features as he gazed back at you.
“Maybe I can help relax ya back to sleep,” you suggested coyly.
One of his dark brows arched onto his forehead, his tired eyes fixed curiously on you. Bottom lip catching between your teeth, you slowly drew your hand down his cheek, lightly dragging your nails down the side of his neck before it slipped back beneath the covers. His brow rose even higher onto his forehead as he held your gaze, the corners of his lips curling further upwards when you shot him a cheeky wink.
Your hand made its way downwards, though not without you first taking a moment to curl your fingers appreciatively in the hair covering his bare chest. Eventually your hand continued its descent, your fingers reaching the hem of his boxers. Toying with the waistband teasingly, your tongue darted out, wetting your lips in anticipation of what had crossed your mind.
“Love, ya don't have to–”
“Consider it your first gift of the day, Michael,” you whispered back, cutting him off.
Without giving him another opportunity to tell you why you didn't need to pleasure him–something he always did for fear of feeling selfish–both of your hands began tugging his boxers down his thighs. Sitting upright on the bed, you began shifting on the mattress, moving the blankets out of the way before stripping his boxers entirely off and discarding them over the side of the bed. Eyes focusing back on Michael's cock, a surge of heat washed through you at the sight of him already growing hard.
“With the way ya look at me sometimes,” Michael’s groggy voice began, “ya would think ya enjoy this ‘bout as much as I do.”
Your eyes flickered up, catching his as a sly grin spread across your face. “‘Cause I do, Mikey,” you purred out.
Focusing back on Michael's cock, your cunt twitched at the resulting groan he'd emitted in reply to your comment. Maybe you'd satisfy that urge in the shower with him later this morning when you both got ready for the day. But for now, you were going to enjoy turning Michael into a relaxed puddle so he'd fall back asleep while you worked on your little surprise breakfast.
Reaching out a hand, you dragged your nails lightly across the sensitive bit of skin on his lower abdomen, right above his cock. The muscles twitched and jumped beneath your fingertips as you gradually lowered yourself into a comfortable position on the bed between his muscular thighs. Slowly you began to slide your other hand up the inside of his left thigh through the thick, dark hair, grinning in triumph to yourself when his hips gave a faint jolt along the bed in response.
Knowing you wanted to get him to fall back asleep soon, you figured you'd keep the teasing to a minimum this time. One of your hands curled around the girth at the base of him, your own cunt beginning to grow wet at the slight moan he loosed into the bedroom at your touch. From your position on the bed, you glanced up at him from beneath your lashes. His head had raised from his pillow, his drowsy focus solely on you.
“Merry Christmas, Mikey,” you whispered, intentionally brushing your lips against his cock as you spoke.
Without waiting for a response, you wrapped your lips around him and began to work the length of his cock slowly and deliberately. A deep moan bellowed from within his chest, echoing around the bedroom–it was a sound that had you humming with pleasure with your mouth full of him. Moments later you felt one of his hands lightly cradling the side of your head, his fingers carefully gripping your hair.
“Ohh fuck, love,” he breathed out, voice pitched higher than usual. “Ya always know what you're doin’.”
You moaned along his cock at the praise, your thighs pressing together from your place on the bed. Yet again you had to remind yourself you'd take care of your own needs with him later as your head continued to bob along the length of him, your pace increasing a bit with the speed of his panting breaths now filling your ears. While your right hand continued to work the bit of him you couldn't quite fit, your left hand made its way up the rest of his inner thigh and over towards his balls. The moment you began to pay them attention you felt his hips straining to remain still beneath you.
“ Shit , love,” Michael gasped out.
It was only a matter of time before you could feel his thighs practically trembling along the mattress. You could tell he was close to cumming, especially with the faint, breathy gasps repeatedly slipping out of him as you sucked his cock. You knew it usually never took much to get him off first thing in the morning, and apparently today was no different.
Increasing your pace even faster as you tried to take him just a bit deeper into your mouth, you felt his hand tighten its grip in your hair. His other hand darted onto the bed with a soft thump before you saw him fisting the sheets in a white-knuckle grip.
“Love, I'm goin’ to cum,” he breathed out, voice strained.
Continuing to breathe through your nose, you didn't slow your pace. Only seconds later you felt the warm, thick ropes of his release hit your tongue. The familiar salty taste of him along with the accompanying low, satisfied moans he was making above you had you moaning along with him. You swallowed every bit down as you worked him through his release, only stopping when you felt his grip ease in your hair.
Sitting up between his thighs, you wiped a hand across your damp mouth and gazed down at the sight of Michael before you. His breathing was heavy and so were his eyelids as he drowsily gazed down at you. He shot you a content, sleepy smile from his place along the pillow as his hand dropped from your hair and back to his side.
“Think it's your turn now, love,” he murmured.
You tried to fight back the grin on your face at how exhausted he looked. Gently you shook your head, one hand lightly patting his thigh.
“Not right now, Michael,” you told him. “Later. In the shower.”
“Mmm,” he hummed out, his eyelids drooping.
“Think ya can fall back asleep now?” you asked him.
“After that?” he asked with a light laugh. “Not a doubt in my mind, love.”
“Good,” you whispered as you slid off the bed. “Rest more, pet. I'll wake ya in a bit.”
Michael hummed out a noise of assent as you drew the blankets back up over him, his head already rolling to the side as sleep began to take back over. You smiled to yourself at the sight, grateful your little breakfast surprise would remain just that still.
The scent of cinnamon and vanilla filled the kitchen, mingling with the scent of the freshly brewed espresso from the two coffee mugs you’d set aside on the little island behind you. Mikey had often drank tea or bland coffee roasts before you’d moved in with him, but once you’d introduced him to your espresso machine, he’d quickly fallen in love with the lattes you made. So you’d certainly made sure to include them in your Christmas morning surprise for him.
Gingerly you spread the icing over the top of the now mostly-cooled cinnamon rolls in the pan that you’d recently pulled out of the oven. The icing spatula glided with ease over the top of each one, the lingering warmth from the pastries causing the icing to loosen and spread over them, dripping down the sides. Your stomach gave a faint rumble as you worked, desperate to taste the fruits of your labor already. You’d spent the previous evening making the cinnamon rolls from scratch while Michael was away dealing with his family, and you’d stored them in the fridge overnight knowing he’d come home far too late to give a damn what was hidden at the back of it. You were planning to wake him for breakfast once you’d had everything finished, hoping to give him as much time to sleep in as you could.
Though as you began icing the final pastries in the pan, you felt two arms slip around your waist just before you felt Michael’s familiar, firm chest molding itself against your back. His nose was soon nuzzling at the side of your neck, the faint scratch of his beard tickling your skin. A smile tugged at your lips as your hands paused their icing, your eyes briefly closing at the display of affection. Despite the things Michael had done, and how terrifying most people seemed to find him, he was truly nothing more than a cuddly teddy bear with you.
“Everythin’ smells amazin’, love,” he murmured against your neck. “Didn’t know ya were makin’ breakfast or I’d have come down and given ya a hand.”
Your eyelids fluttered back open, your attention returning to icing the last of the cinnamon rolls in the pan. “But that’d defeat the point, pet,” you pointed out. “I was hopin’ to surprise ya with breakfast this mornin’. And ya needed the rest.”
“Mmm,” he hummed out, pausing to gently place a light kiss to the place just beneath your jawline. “Ya spoil me, love.”
“It’s Christmas, Michael,” you teased, fighting your body's reaction to the way he was touching you. “‘Course I’m goin’ to spoil ya.”
His arms tightened their hold around your middle, pulling you more flush to the front of himself and causing your smile to widen. You could feel him shifting beside you, his head raising just before his soft lips planted a gentle kiss to your cheek. But when he spoke next, his mouth was beside your ear, causing a shudder to freely race down your spine. He never failed to have an effect on you.
“Ya always spoil me, though,” he whispered.
Turning your head towards him, you caught his eyes and held his gaze. The usual warmth and fondness he always looked at you with was present in them now, the sight causing a sensation of happy flutters to swirl through your stomach.
“Because ya deserve it, Mikey,” you replied softly.
Slowly, you saw the corner of his lips twist upwards, his eyes creasing just a bit at the corners. He gradually disentangled his arms from around your waist, taking a step back. Though both of his hands gave your hips a gentle, affectionate squeeze before he fully released you.
“Why don’t ya take a seat and relax?” he suggested, nodding his head towards the kitchen table across the room. “I’ll plate everythin’ and bring it over. Ya have done more than enough already this mornin’.”
With a sigh you placed the icing spatula in the now empty bowl you’d mixed the icing in this morning. “Alright,” you conceded. “I s’pose I can let ya handle that much.”
Turning around, you grabbed the two still steaming lattes from off the little kitchen island behind you before maneuvering around it and making your way over to the small table by the window. As you set both mugs down, you could hear the sound of clinking on dishware as Michael plated the cinnamon rolls.
Sliding down into a chair and drawing your mug of coffee up to your lips, your attention returned to him. He’d slipped on a pair of dark gray sweatpants and a black sweater before he’d come downstairs and your eyes lingered appreciatively on the way the material clung to the back of him as he worked. You knew you’d definitely be peeling those clothes off of him later this morning in the bathroom before fucking him in the shower, and that thought had you momentarily readjusting your position in your chair. It was at that exact moment he turned around, holding two plates and beaming back at you from across the kitchen.
“These look great, love,” Michael said as he began to make his way over to the table. “Did ya make them yourself?”
“O’course I did,” you answered. “I made ‘em while ya were out last night. All I had left to do was throw ‘em in the oven this mornin’ and then make the icing.”
Michael set a plate down in front of you before taking the seat across the little table. His eyes had gone a bit wide in surprise at the information.
“Love, ya didn’t have to do that for me,” he told you. “And ya certainly didn’t have to make so many, either.”
You shrugged lightly, picking up the fork from your plate. “I wanted to. Plus I figured if I was goin’ through all the trouble of makin’ them I figured I'd make some to bring over later to share with Anna and her gran. Because who says no to cinnamon rolls?”
Your fork slid through the side of the pastry easily, cutting off a piece that you brought up to your lips. Though your fork hesitated before your mouth as you focused on Michael across from you, his own fork in his hand and an unreadable expression on his face.
“What?” you asked.
“Nothin’,” he muttered with a slight shake of his head. “Just grateful to have ya in my life is all.”
Heat burned at your cheeks as Michael picked up his fork and began to focus on his breakfast. His words had caused a warmth to flood you, filling you with a pleasant sense of belonging. It wasn’t remotely the first time he’d said something so sweet, but it never failed to get your heart thundering in your chest whenever he did because you knew how much he always meant what he said.
“After breakfast I’ll have to pop over to Birdie’s for a minute,” Michael told you as he swallowed a bite of the pastry.
Brows furrowing, you glanced out the window to your right. Just across the snow-dusted street you spotted Birdie’s house.
“Ya have more work to do this mornin’?” you asked him in confusion, your attention returning to him. “On Christmas?”
“No, nothin’ like that,” he said around another bite of cinnamon roll. “I left your Christmas present at her house for uh…safe keepin’. Just to ensure ya didn’t stumble across it ahead of time.”
Your eyes narrowed suspiciously at him as you paused your chewing. Michael visibly began to fidget in his seat, his eyes focused on the plate before him. What could he possibly have needed to leave at Birdie’s to keep you from finding it here?
“These are delicious by the way, love,” Michael said, gesturing his fork at the already half-devoured pastry on his plate. “Thank ya for makin’ them.”
“Well,” you began slowly, spearing another piece of cinnamon roll onto your fork, “it’s certainly not your only present this mornin’.”
Michael sent you a half-grin from across the table as he raised his mug of coffee towards his lips. “Like I said,” he replied, “ya spoil me, love.”
Despite the fact that Michael had told you not to worry about cleaning up the kitchen just before he'd left to stop over at Birdie’s, that's exactly what you’d ended up doing. As soon as you'd covered the pan of cinnamon rolls and stowed them away in the fridge, you could hear the sound of his voice telling you that you shouldn't be the one to clean up because you'd already went through the effort of making everything for breakfast.
But you'd ignored that voice and started loading the dishwasher afterwards. There wasn't much else for you to do anyway as you waited for him to return from Birdie’s. Though you couldn't help but speculate what gift he could have possibly left at her place. Jewelry? Some sort of electronic? Honestly you had no clue what it could've been.
But you didn't need to speculate much longer because as you were closing the door to the dishwasher you spotted movement out of the kitchen window from the corner of your eye. Turning over your shoulder towards the window, you saw Michael coming up the drive with what was obviously your Christmas present secured in his arms. Your mouth fell open at the sight and you gasped audibly, eyes widening in surprise.
Without a moment's hesitation you raced out of the kitchen, making your way down the short hallway and to the front door. You reached out and twisted the handle, swinging the door wide open just as Michael neared it. There was a large smile on his face when he saw the look on your own.
“Merry Christmas, love,” he said, coming to a stop on the front step.
“Please tell me this isn't a joke, Mikey,” you begged. “Because if it is, it's not funny.”
You couldn't tear your eyes away from the puppy curled in his arms. The dog's ears had perked up the moment it'd spotted you though, its tail thudding enthusiastically against Michael’s dark brown jacket. There was a bright red and white Santa hat atop the puppy's fluffy white and brown head. The puppy must have sensed your excitement because it soon began to squirm in Michael’s hold.
“‘S'not a joke,” he assured you. “I know how lonely ya get ‘round here when I'm busy. And I know how ya had been hinting ‘bout gettin’ a pet lately. Figured this little guy would be perfect when I saw him at the shelter.”
“So ya–ya got me a puppy for Christmas?” you asked him in disbelief.
“Yeah,” he answered with a grin.
You eagerly extended your arms with an excited squeal, reaching them out towards the puppy. Michael began shifting the excitable, squirming ball of fur from his arms to yours. Another delighted squeal slipped out of you as the dog began sniffing and licking at your chin while you stepped back from the doorway, letting Michael into the house. He chuckled warmly at the happy coos you soon began emitting as he slipped off his shoes while you continued further into the house, bringing the puppy towards the sitting room.
A giggle fell out of you next as the little dog began snuffling at your ear while you lowered both yourself and the dog to the sitting room floor. Though you lost your balance when his two front paws landed on your shoulder as he tried to climb further up to your face. You landed on your back underneath the puppy with a peel of laughter.
“Seems he has some sort o’ charm over everyone,” Michael teased as he entered the room. “Found him similarly with Birdie this mornin’ and I think she was a bit sad to see him leave.”
“Well she's more than welcome to visit,” you told him, scratching the puppy behind the ears as you focused on Michael from your place on the floor. “And thank ya, Mikey. He's perfect.”
“Just glad to see that bright smile on your beautiful face, love,” he replied. “I'd do anything to put it there.”
You couldn't fight the smile that spread wider across your lips at his words. “Well when I can finally get up I'm giving ya your Christmas presents,” you told him. With your smile turning a bit coy, you added, “And don't think I forgot what I said about the shower later, either. I'm not finished with ya today, Michael Kinsella.”
“Mmm,” he hummed back, making his way over towards the pair of you with a cheeky smile on his face. “Now those are the kinda threats I love to hear.”
#michael kinsella x reader#michael kinsella smut#michael kinsella fluff#michael kinsella x you#michael kinsella#holiday fluff
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Link
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Temeraire - Naomi Novik
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: William Laurence/Tenzing Tharkay, John Granby/Augustine Little, Edith Galman/Jane Roland, William Laurence & Temeraire, John Granby & William Laurence & Tenzing Tharkay, John Granby & Iskierka
Characters: William Laurence, Temeraire (Temeraire), Tenzing Tharkay, John Granby, Jane Roland, Iskierka (Temeraire), Edith Galman, Lord Allendale (Temeraire), Sipho Tsuluka Dlamini, Arkady (Temeraire), The Ferals (Temeraire), Volatilus (Temeraire), Catherine Harcourt, Matthew Berkley
Summary:
Caroling, holiday parties, and conveniently placed mistletoe. Cold clear nights, warm fires, and soft moments with family, friends and lovers. A collection of holiday fluff in various forms.
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Christmas Lights with Crosshair
[Part 1 of Holiday Fluff with The Bad Batch]
Dividers by @ve-ti-ver on this post here
Word Count: 700
SFW, just some warm and fuzzy stuff that will be a composite master post of Bad Batch sweetness. GN Reader.
The cool air refreshed your cheeks while the rest of you remained warm beneath your layers as you walked through the festively-decorated neighborhood. It was notorious in your town for over-the-top holiday decorations, and while you’d worried that you’d played it up too much in your description to Echo, it definitely did not disappoint. The sidewalks were packed, the streets bumper-to-bumper with cars full of jolly admirers gawking at the colorful displays. Festive songs layered over each other as the tunes wafted from homes and autos alike, and you took a deep breath, deeply content in the annual tradition.
“That one is an utter train wreck,” Crosshair murmured, barely audible beside you. You chuckled and squeezed his arm, your own looped through it snugly. Following his gaze, you could see why he’d say that – the next home on the block was…
“Quite extravagant,” you commented, trying to take in the layers upon layers of inflatable and light-up figures that filled every inch of space between the sidewalk and the house. The lawn had been covered with lights that wove back and forth across beneath every possible character that could even remotely be connected with the holiday. There were spotlights shooting up into the sky, waving around as though it were the premiere of the biggest film of the decade, and a cacophony of noise from the assembly.
You were grateful that you’d started early, able to enjoy the turning point of the evening as dusk gave way to darkness, even though it was still early. The winter solstice was nearly here, and each day was shorter and shorter. You took a turn down a side street, venturing away from the main drag to get a little space from the chaos. It was a bit overstimulating, and the two of you’d seen enough. Crosshair had been utterly stunned by the frivolity, and his choice comments had brought a great deal of laughter to the stroll so far. His sharp eyesight had also revealed more than a few little surprises that you’d never noticed before, making it your favorite year yet as far as holiday traditions went.
The noise died down as you walked farther into the “regular” part of the neighborhood, away from the well-known “Candy Cane Lane”, and the quiet was a welcome reprieve, settling over your ears like earmuffs you could almost feel. Crosshair felt less stiff, somehow, relaxing into your side a little more as the two of you made your way around a corner. A few of the houses were decorated with simple strings of lights or a humble nativity in the front yard, and it felt more like business as usual.
“Want to head home?” you asked, taking in Crosshair’s angular face as his eyes continued to roam.
“Eventually,” he answered, and his leisurely attitude was disarming. You smiled, tipping your chin as you caught a whiff of some delicious dinner being cooked nearby. A deep inhale brought in all kinds of scents – herbs and meat, roasted vegetables, and the faint touch of charcoal or some sort of barbecue. You couldn’t help but close your eyes to take it all in, missing the flash of unabashed fondness that crossed his face as he snuck a glance.
“This is my favorite time of day,” you admitted, opening your eyes and bestowing a warm smile in Crosshair’s direction. “Everyone is tucking into their homes, making tasty meals, nestling in for the night…” The roar of an engine cut you off as a delivery driver rounded the corner at far too high a speed, and you could have sworn you heard packages tumbling around in the back as it careened down the street, screeching to a halt in front of the lucky recipient.
“Almost everyone,” Crosshair observed, and you chuckled dryly. He paused, pulling you to a halt next to him, and you looked up at him questioningly. Without a word, he tilted his head, bringing his lips to yours in a slow, lingering kiss that melted you to the core. When he pulled away, a flickering smolder in his eyes, you suddenly felt a little bit of a rush to get home after all.
Tag List: @littlefeatherr @arctrooper69 @foreverdaydreaming1 @stunkbiggu @mxkyrie @littlemissbshine @dreamie411 @skellymom @followthepurrgil @the-hexfiles @1vlouds @ughhhhfoff @coraex @gt13tbbart @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @ghostperson69 @secondaryrealm @hellhound5925 @thew0nderer2342 @cloneloverrrrr @kashasenpai @clonethirstingisreal @dukeoftheblackstar @kimiheartblade @mooncommlink @stardusthuntress @starstofillmydream @eyecandyeoz @dhawerdaverd @ladylucksrogue @thiswitchloves9904 @isthereanechoinhere96 @tech-aficionado @foodmoneyandcats @eternal-transcience @cw80831 @adh-d2 @techmexicanvieja @ezras-left-thumb @trixie2023 @sleepycreativewriter @nonsenseandm3mes @mlichaelm @nahoney22
Click here to join or leave the tag list. <3
#the bad batch#tbb#bad batch#bad batch fluff#tbb fluff#the bad batch fluff#the bad batch one shot#tbb one shot#holiday fluff#holiday one shot#x reader#reader insert#crosshair#crosshair x reader
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Podfic: Because of a Whipped Cream Mustache [TGCF, FengQing]
Written by: doordaash
Art by: Nan
Summary:
Feng Xin for the love of all things joyful and merry, would not meet his goddamn eyes! It was…weird! They had been dating well over 3 years now, had known each other for nearly their entire lives, and yet Feng Xin was avoiding his eyes as if they were mere strangers! He was speaking to everyone but Mu Qing!
What made it worse, is finding him and fucking Shi Qingxuan whispering to each other while everyone ate, as the two were sitting next to one other - because Feng Xin hadn’t even SAT NEXT to Mu Qing! Shi Qingxuan giggled at whatever the fuck Feng Xin had whispered, covering their mouth with their hand before clapping excitedly.
or: some cheesy holiday kiss kiss fall in love BS for da soul <;33
🎧 Listen here 🎧
Sound on for the teaser below!
#danmei#podfic#podfic rec#podficcer#mxtx fanart#mxtx fanfic#fengqing#hallmark movie christmas feels#feng xin#mu qing#holiday fluff#tgcf art#tgcf fanfic#tgcf fanart#podfics on spotify#ao3fic#heaven official's blessing#mxtx tgcf#tian guan ci fu#mxtx fandom#I share my Hallmark movie moment and engagement in the notes#fanfiction#ao3 fanfic#happy holidays
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Steddie Fic: Winter Solstice
Eddie’s Mom was a witch and taught Eddie how to do a little bit of magic at the Winter Solstice. This year, he wants to share that with someone special.
Steve is invited over to the Munson trailer for an all-night party. While he didn’t expect a rager or anything, not with their friends, he did expect more than Eddie and a million candles.
Read on AO3
#steddie#stranger things#stranger things fic#steve harrington#eddie munson#Holiday Fluff#Just not the usual holiday#Eddie's mom was a neo-pagan witch in the 70s#my fic
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Rating: G
Pairing: Vash X F!Reader
CW: Mentions of pregnancy
Word count: Roughly 1K
A/N: Well, have the first of my Dad!Vash blurbs/Drabbles for the holidays with his cute little boy Rei making some cookies. Just some nice fluff to start off the holidays right.
The sound of cheerfulness could be heard around the small kitchen as the pair laughed, Vash with his chuckles bouncing around the space, and the high-pitched squeals of Rei as he stood on his stool to be level with the counter. His smaller hands wrapped around the rolling pin handles, which were, in turn, engulfed in his father's grip as the duo worked on rolling out the dough in front of them. “Just a bit more pressure Rei, you don’t want your cookies to burn do you?”
“Burnt cookies are gross Papa. You can eat them.” The toddler retorted at him and Vash tried to keep the dough level. Well, more Vash trying to keep the dough from being too thin or thick, chuckling again at the matter-of-fact tone of his son.
“What if I don’t like burnt cookies either? Are you going to feed them to Mama?” Teasing as the pin made a few clicking noises as it spun across the sugary mass.
“No! To you Papa!” Another squeal from Rei and Vash just chuckled more, enjoying the feel of the smaller hands under his.
“Well, I guess we just can’t make them too thin to burn right?”
“Right.” It warmed his heart to hear his son speaking, just a few months ago his little sprout had still been making noises and gurgles. He’d come a long way in such a short time and Vash felt his heart swell whenever Rei spoke. A constant reminder of his new life, a life he never thought he’d have but you had changed all that. With the addition of Rei, Vash felt like every day was a new adventure even with the learning curve that came with being a new parent.
Stopping the motion of the pin and pulling his and Rei’s hand away Vash hummed as he looked at the pale confection spread before the two. “I think that’s as good as it’s gonna get without burnt cookies.” An eww following his words as Rei made a face of clear unhappiness at the thought of such a tragedy. “Wanna pick out the shapes we're gonna use?” He asked reaching up into the high spaces of the cabinet and pulling the little box that held the cookie cutters you had acquired that Vash simply no longer questioned. Sure it wasn’t a huge selection with just seven pieces but for the weekly cookies you baked for the three of you as treats, it more than served the intended purpose.
“All of them Papa” Rei declared as Vash jingled the box in front of the small blond.
Letting out a hum as if in thought. “If we use them all, we need to wash all of them Rei.” An attempt to get his little boy to change his mind since Vash knew there was enough dough for maybe a dozen cookies and Rei already showed disdain for dishes. Looking down as Rei’s little nose twitched on his face and his cheeks puffed up in a frown before he pointed out two of them.
“The star and moon Papa.” A wistful smile grew on Vash’s face at the selection, the memory of when you had come home and first made cookies while trying to find things to keep you occupied that weren’t intensive while pregnant with Rei. Something he found exhausting with how active you were around your little household and trying to keep you off your feet as he’d been ordered by the doctors on the ship.
“Because you light up my night just as much as my day Sunshine.” A tooth-filled grin on your face as you sat at the kitchen table covered in flour making your hair white, one of his favorite memories of you. It tickled something inside of him that Rei tended to pick those two cutters wondering if maybe his little sprout was aware of the sentiment his parent placed on them.
“A great pick.” Plucking the two from the container before sliding it back into its place higher in the cabinet before letting Rei start to push them into the dough and make the outline of his cookies.
Working together it doesn’t take long for Vash and Rei and get the raw cookies placed on the cookie sheet and roll the dough out a second time with a firm. “Not too thin Papa!” Rei chided his father until a little lump that didn’t fit any of the molds was left.
“That’s for Pookie Papa.” An authoritative statement from Rei with his hands on his hips and Vash had no intentions of arguing with the boy, if he wanted to give Vash’s Tomas a cookie so be it.
“Ok Rei, I bet she’ll be extra happy when you give it to her.” Tossing the cutters into the sink with the rest of their used tools that they would wash while the cookies baked. “Now back up buddy so I can get these in the oven.”
“Can I do it, Papa?” His blue eyes twinkled as he sent his father his best puppy dog look, one Vash often caved to. Yet as the tray tilted in his hands Vash sighed, watching those big eyes grow glassy trying to win him over.
“Not this time. Once you get bigger.” Sending him a wink as both you and Vash had learned to not say when you’re older to Rei, since he responded the first time five minutes later with how he was older. The idea of the boy trying to load the cookie sheet in the hot oven was just too much of a risk for him at this point but with the way he was growing Vash wouldn’t be surprised if in another three or four months he’d be big enough to do so.
Hours later, with a little plate of cookies, Vash was sitting on the couch with a tuckered-out Rei curled into his side having a nap. One arm wrapped around the boy's shoulders as he snuggled up against Vash, a soft smile on his face as he watched the boy sleep. A feeling of contentment settled over him as he heard the front door open.
Stepping in from the outside and pausing to slip your boots off you could smell something sweet, your nose in the air sniffing as you made your way down the hallway and caught sight of the pair on the couch. “I see my boys managed to stay out of trouble today.”
“Barely” Vash laughed before holding up the plate with an eyebrow raised. “Want a sweet treat Mayfly?” Shaking your head at his playful tone well aware he didn’t actually mean one of the cookies as you swept closer to the pair with a growing grin making your cheeks hurt.
“Always my love.”
Enjoy!
#vash the stampede#dad!vash#trigun#fluff#trimax#trigun maximum#trigun stampede#tristamp#cookies#holiday season#holiday fluff#because i said so#trigun vash
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