Tag: fluff

Fluffy Xmas Rhysquez — baking Christmas cookies and/or watching A Muppet Christmas Carol for the third time this month

Day 5 of Requestmas! I hope you like this—it’s just sugary fluff. 

Neither Hugo nor Rhys was particularly good at baking—Hugo could cook well and good, while Rhys was just helpless with all things culinary—but at the very least they could follow simple instructions. And considering store-bought cookies just couldn’t hold a candle to the home-made stuff they both remembered from their childhoods, they’d decided to take the plunge and find the most basic recipe for gingerbread and sugar cookies they could find.

Hugo had been worried, especially since he’d once witness Rhys burn grilled cheese to an absolute crisp, but so far the baking was going smoothly. Rhys had managed to get himself splattered only once while he was creaming the butter and sugar together, and before long he had a decently sized ball of dense, oily dough ready to be rolled out into delicious cookies. Soon enough, Hugo had a sticky lump of gingerbread to join it, and they both spent a good couple of minutes picking at the raw dough before popping it in the fridge to chill.

The next hour or so was spend casually making out on the couch to the sound of The Muppets Christmas Carol playing for what was probably the fifth time this season. Before long, Rhys was snickering too much to keep up the kissing and the two settled besides each other to watch. But Hugo grew antsy as his belly started to growl, prompting Rhys to drag him towards the kitchen to cut and bake the cookies.

They had an odd menagerie of cookie cutters cluttering one of the many kitchen drawers, providing many options to shape the dough. They made a couple with more traditional shapes such as gingerbread men and christmas trees and bells, while also opting for some more bizarre alternatives such as cacti, unicorns, and dinosaurs.

“This one is you,” Rhys snarked as he cut a large teddy bear out of gingerbread, nudging Hugo with his hip. His boyfriend snorted, squishing his own cutter into the sheet of sugar cookie dough.

“Oh yeah, well this is you…” Hugo picked the dough away from the intricate snowflake design he’d cut out.

“Wow, really?” Rhys snorted, dabbing Hugo’s nose with flour and getting some in the man’s beard. “You’re so immature.”

“Says the one getting flour all over my face,” Hugo huffed, grabbing Rhys by the waist and smothering his lips with kisses, making sure to get all the flour on his boyfriend as Rhys wiggled and squeaked in faux outrage.

Baking time was spent with a little more hungry kissing before the smell of spice and sugar became too intoxicating to ignore and they just had to pull the cookies out of the oven, unable to wait a moment longer. Rhys nearly burned his tongue popping a gooey sugar cookie into his mouth, chewing the soft, piping hot sweet with a goofy smile on his face.

Hugo, to his credit, waited a couple of minutes before biting the head off a gingerbread reindeer.

They’d bought icing from the store—an open admittance that neither wanted to tackle anything involving whipping egg whites—as well as a variety of food coloring, sprinkles and various candies to decorate their cookies with. They mostly ignored the preexisting Christmas palette and just adorned their cookies with whatever colors they deemed fit. Rhys made almost all of his cookie with bright blue frosting, practically coating the treats with the stuff, while Hugo tried to keep a steady hand and make most of his designs tasteful, but Rhys kept “accidentally” nudging him and causing him to splatter frosting and ruin his beautifully pristine lines.

“Oh please, this isn’t the first time I’ve made you go off early,” Rhys teased when Hugo fixed him in a glare. The bigger man retaliated by squirting frosting over Rhys’ cheek.

“Oh, hmm, now there’s a familiar sight.” Hugo smirked as Rhys spluttered, grabbing a towel to wipe the frosting off of his face.

“Shut up,” Rhys grunted, picking up one of his messily decorate cookies and shoving it into Hugo’s mouth. The man let out a muffled chuckle, a couple crumbs escaping his lips and clinging to his beard.

A couple of cookies got destroyed in the ensuing scuffle, ending up in each other’s mouths or crushed on the floor, but soon enough the couple ending up laughing and kissing, their mouths dusted with sugar and frosting. Now armed with two tall, frosty glasses of milk and a plate piled high with the surviving cookies, they snuggled together on the couch, ready to watch whatever Christmas special was playing next on the TV.

“The Warmth of Kindness”

Cyrus was quiet as he crept towards the door, making sure both of his parents were still resting deeply as he unhooked his own tiny fur cape from a small, hooked root poking out from the wall and tied it about his neck. Being as careful as he could, he approached the stove, filling a little earthenware mug with piping hot cider. Balancing it carefully against his chest, he grabbed one of the larger pelts from a nearby basket and balled it up in his tiny arms as he tiptoed towards the main door. He’d already lifted the iron key to the door that had been inside his mother’s pocket—he felt bad to be misbehaving, but he felt even worse whenever he thought about his friend being all alone out in the harsh snow.

4th Day of Requestmas for @herkal! The wendigo jack AU but with a twist featuring their pink jack as a nymph that Cyrus befriends 🙂 Just some fluff involving those two with a mention of wendigo jack and rhys near the beginning!

The snow was really starting to come down outside.

Cyrus watched, his little hands pressed up against the thick glass windows of the massive, hollowed-out tree where he and his mother now lived. It was warm inside, the furniture covered in fluffy furs and fresh cider kept warm in a copper pot on the stove. But the glass against his palm was chilly, sending little goosebumps through his body.

Cyrus glanced over his shoulder over to where his mother and father were curled up together in a snug little corner, atop the straw-stuffed couch covered in clean hides. Rhys lay bundled in a warm wolf pelt as he rested atop Jack’s far larger body. Both omega and demon were sleeping soundly, their chests rising and falling in tandem with one another. Jack’s own black fur fluttered as Rhys’ breathed out calm and warm against his husband’s shoulder.

Cyrus was quiet as he crept towards the door, making sure both of his parents were still resting deeply as he unhooked his own tiny fur cape from a small, hooked root poking out from the wall and tied it about his neck. Being as careful as he could, he approached the stove, filling a little earthenware mug with piping hot cider. Balancing it carefully against his chest, he grabbed one of the larger pelts from a nearby basket and balled it up in his tiny arms as he tiptoed towards the main door. He’d already lifted the iron key to the door that had been inside his mother’s pocket—he felt bad to be misbehaving, but he felt even worse whenever he thought about his friend being all alone out in the harsh snow.

The winds tossed at his clothes as Cyrus stepped out of the warm comforts of home and out into the storm. Cold bit at his little body, but both the furs and the protective aura of his father kept him safe as he forged through the snow starting to pile on the ground. Despite the dark clouds cast over the forest, Cyrus felt no fear, having become so accustomed to the forest and the spirits dwelling within it that it no longer scared him. Even the gnarled trees, their branches bare of birds or leaves and silhouetted against the stormy sky didn’t deter him as he trundled through the forest, seeking out the familiar spots where he would find his friend.

He eventually found the familiar pink tree hunched on the flocked bed besides the now frozen stream. Its trunk was thin and pale, branches overburdened by snow with only a couple thin pink leaves poking through. Cyrus rushed to its side, nearly spilling the cider in his hurry. His friend looked very cold.

‘Mister! Mister, are you okay?” Cyrus called, his little voice misty in the cold air as he tramped over to the tree. He could almost see it quaking, wan bark quivering with every gust of wind that rattled its branches. Cyrus frowned at the sight, holding up the hot cider and the huge pelt, as if it would help to make his friend show himself and take the offered gifts.

“I have stuff for you! It’ll help you be warm in the storm!” He called above the whistling of the wind, hoping his friend would wake up, would hear him. Cyrus’ little heart leapt as he saw that bark tremble harder, finally smoothing out and shrinking down into skin. The entire tree shuddered, snow tumbling from the branches as they vanished into a pair of arms. The leaves slithered together, tumbling in long locks of pink hair down to shaking shoulders that sprung from knots in the tree’s trunk.

Cyrus beamed in the relief at the sight of his friend, though he could see how much the cold was affecting him. His skin was as pale as the snow, and his hair was powdered with frost. He huddled in place, arms wrapped tightly around his body as he looked down at Cyrus, a tiny smile gracing his lips even as they starting to turn blue.

“Oh no…just like I thought, you’re cold!” Cyrus exclaimed, standing on his tiptoes as he held out the pelt to the nymph. His eyes widened as he looked at the offered gift, carefully taking it with cold, trembling fingers. Despite the chill, he managed to drape the pelt about his shoulders, gratefully rubbing the warm fur against his body.

“There you go! Drink this, too—um, I dunno if it’s weird ‘cause it’s apples, but it’s all I got!” Cyrus handed him the mug with both hands, like his mother had taught him. The nymph blinked placidly at the drink for a moment, before gratefully taking it and bringing the steaming cider up to his frozen lips.

Cyrus smiled, letting out a puff of a giggle as the nymph’s face lit up, the delicious cider helping to warm up his core. The nymph licked his lips, smiling back at the young boy as he crouched down next to him in the snow, offering a sip of the cider.

“Oh, no thanks mister, I’ve got plenty of cider back home! That’s all for you!” Cyrus promised, allowing the nymph to drink deeply of the cup until it was all gone. The young boy wanted to stay around and play more, but a sharp caw rang out above the whistling winds, drawing his attention to where one of his father’s ravens had perched on one of the tree branches above, its eyes glittering with interest. Cyrus knew that the nymphs were afraid of his father, though he still didn’t understand why. His dad was cool, and all the nymphs were cool too. He loved both of them and wanted them to get along, but neither seemed to want to yet.

“Sorry….guess I should get back home, now…” Cyrus shuffled his feet for a moment, before leaning in and giving his friend a big hug and rubbing his face against the nymph’s sunken chest. He could feel his heart beating warmly underneath his skin, giving him hope that his little gifts had helped.

“I’ll try to bring you more cider tomorrow, okay? And maybe some pie if mama bakes it!” Cyrus called as he trundled back towards his home, leaving the nymph wrapped up in the fur on the bank of the river. Despite the storm around him, the sprite still smiled, the warmth of friendship blossoming through his body as he faced another cold night out in the forest.

“Huggable for the Holidays”

Tim had been seriously packing on the pounds himself recently.

There wasn’t really any one cause for it, at least he didn’t think so. Other than food being tasty and the fact that his writing jobs gave him a lot of time to sit around at the house. Maybe it was his age, maybe it was the fact that Rhys had figured out how much he liked tarts and pies just as a little patisserie had opened right by their apartment. It could be any one of those things, but at the end of the day all he knew was that his pants had gotten a little more tight and his stomach looked more like a ball of cookie dough than a six-pack.

It was like he and Jack were opposite ends of a scale, and every time one tipped up, the other would go plummeting down.

Second Day of Requestmas for @hyperioncompanyman ! We talked a lot about a scenario where Tim got chubby and how Rhys would react. So I thought of something where Tim gets upset at an Xmas party but Rhys shows him just how much he loves him. Just some more fluff 🙂

Tim had been really excited for this party ever since he and Rhys had started to plan it all the way back in November. Rhys, being cut from the “Christmas starts the day after Halloween” cloth, naturally bugged Tim until he’d finally caved and agreed to host a proper party to celebrate their first apartment together. Despite his initial misgivings, it had been a lot of fun, too—buying all the decorations together, planning the menu, deciding which if any alcohol to supply. They couldn’t go as crazy as some people could with their holiday parties, but considering their budget, Tim had thought they’d done a pretty great job. They’d draped the living room in garlands of red and green and gold, covered the tables in delicately embroidered tablecloths, and spent the better part of the day prepping and cooking many different dishes.

Tim had been really excited for this party—and then the guests had started to show up.

Specifically, Jack and Nisha had shown up.

Now, Tim didn’t have any particular ill-will towards his twin. Sure, Jack was a bit of a blowhard and had quite a large ego, but generally speaking they were on good terms. Tim hadn’t thought twice about inviting either him or his girlfriend—rowdy as they both were, one could usually count on them to keep the lifeblood going at any party. Their personalities weren’t really the problem.

It was what Jack looked like.

Tim figured that Nisha had finally needled him one time to many about his pretzel belly, causing him to finally snap. When Tim had seen him last, he’d been gushing about he and her had just starting going to crossfit classes together as he took a sip from a big green glass that smelled like their grandma’s old garden.

That had been months ago. Jack’s work and his jet-setting lifestyle meant he didn’t have much time to see his brother. But now that Jack was here, at the party, Tim felt himself curl up a little more in shame.

Because Jack looked good. He looked as fit as he’d been in college. And in any other situation Tim would be happy for his brother for finally shedding that bit of pudge that had given him so much angst over the years, except for the fact that, well.

Tim had been seriously packing on the pounds himself recently.

There wasn’t really any one cause for it, at least he didn’t think so. Other than food being tasty and the fact that his writing jobs gave him a lot of time to sit around at the house. Maybe it was his age, maybe it was the fact that Rhys had figured out how much he liked tarts and pies just as a little patisserie had opened right by their apartment. It could be any one of those things, but at the end of the day all he knew was that his pants had gotten a little more tight and his stomach looked more like a ball of cookie dough than a six-pack.

It was like he and Jack were opposite ends of a scale, and every time one tipped up, the other would go plummeting down.

Tim pulled up the hem of his sweater as he turned away from his guests ostensibly to grab some more punch, frowning at the soft tan flesh bulging out over the waistband of his pants. Wow. He’d really let himself go, hadn’t he? He hadn’t realized it had been this bad.

He could’t help but be a little bit upset. Even though the party as explicitly a potluck, he’d still spent most of the day cooking and baking. The dining table was laden with a variety of delicious food—everything from baked brie with walnuts to dates stuffed with bacon to chocolate peppermint crinkle cookies—but now he didn’t feel like eating any of it.

So he ended up quietly excusing himself from the main room, retreating to the kitchen where he poured himself a glass of water with shaky hands. His fingers gripped the edge of the countertop, willing his eyes to not cry. As embarrassing as his weight gain probably was, being caught crying would be even worse. Especially if he was caught by Jack…

However, after a couple of moments and the sight of his belly nearly pressing up against the counter he couldn’t help himself. He sniffled, tears starting to gather in his eyes.

Which of course, meant that someone had to walk in on him. But much to Tim’s relief, it wasn’t Jack.

“Tim?” Rhys questioned, empty bottle of wine in his hand. He frowned, looking his boyfriend up and down. “Are you okay?”

Tim whirled away, grabbing a piece of paper towel to dab at his eyes. A nervous, stuttering chuckle fell from his lips as he tried to dry his tears as fast as possible.

“H-Hah, yeah, I’m fine, d-did you need something?” Tim snuffled, tossing the paper towel in the trashcan as he turned around, trying to face Rhys with a smile. But his boyfriend already had that disbelieving, worried look on his face that he always got whenever he knew Tim was fibbing.

“What’s wrong?” Rhys breezed right past his boyfriend’s half-hearted attempt to deflect attention from his teary cheeks. Tim scrubbed at his face, ashamed he was crying at his own party. The raucous laughter of his guests echoing from the main room was like a fork in his chest, but Rhys’ concerned face and soft hand resting on his shoulder grounded him. He let out a tight sigh, voice shivering.

“I….I’m fat.”

Rhys frowned.

“Tim…don’t say that…”

“Well, it’s true…” Tim sulked, grabbing at the hem of his sweater and pulling it up over his belly, even exhaling harder for emphasis. “Like, look. There’s no way you didn’t notice.”

“I mean…yeah, I noticed, but it’s not a bad thing.”

“It is when Jack is looking like that.”

“Tim, jeez, is this about Jack?” Rhys shook his head. “I keep telling you…it doesn’t matter what your brother thinks of you.”

“It’s not what he thinks, it’s what he…I mean, you see him…” Tim sniffled, feeling new tears build up. His cheeks were pink with shame, embarrassed he was letting this get to him so much. He’d always been the more sensitive twin but really? This was so dumb.

“Yeah, but so what?” Rhys frowned, taking a step forward to hold Tim’s hands in his. His boyfriend’s long fingers rubbed soothingly against his skin. Tim looked away, eyes falling to the ridiculous design on Rhys’ sweater. It was bright red and sewn with a huge cartoon giraffe with a glowing Rudolph nose and plenty of glitter. They’d bought it the same day they’d bought Tim’s own sweater, decorated in a similarly outlandish fluffy kitten playing with shimmery tinsel.

“So I just think….I don’t know…I shouldn’t have all the treats other people are having…” A couple tears spilled over Tim’s cheeks only to be stopped as Rhys leaned in and firmly kissed them. He bumped their noses together, making Tim look him in the eyes as he shuffled close to his boyfriend.  

“Listen here. Santa’s all chubby and no one gives him crap for having a couple of treats during Christmastime.”

“I mean…” Tim faltered.” I’m not Santa, though. I’m just…me.”

“You’re as nice and thoughtful and generous as he is,” Rhys stated, wiping away Tim’s tears with one of their festive kitchen towels. “And I think someone who spends the entire year acting like a saint deserves to treat himself.”

Tim managed a smile and a tiny laugh. Having dabbed away Timothy’s remaining tears Rhys stowed the towel away and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s waist.

“You’re really perfect, okay?” Rhys assured, his voice low as his palms rubbed affectionately over Tim’s body. “It’s doesn’t matter what Jack thinks or what he looks like…I’m in love with you, no matter what.”

“Y-You’re gonna make me cry again…” Tim sniffed as he leaned forward in Rhys’ embrace, giving his boyfriend a tight squeeze as he nuzzled against the scratchy wool of Rhys’ sweater. The sick, clenched feeling in his stomach had already started to subside thanks to his boyfriend’s affectionate words. He was about ready to pull away and rejoin the party, when suddenly the cafe door separating the kitchen from the living room banged open.

“Heeeey, loverboys!” Nisha hollered, the cranberry sangria in her hand dangerously close to spilling. “Get out here, Jack’s saying he can beat all y’all in an eggnog drinking contest!”

Jack barged in behind her, arm wrapping around her waist and face as red as the drink in his hand.

“S’true, I can hold my alcohol waaaaaay more than Timmy can!” Jack laughed drunkenly, swaying with his girlfriend. Rhys glanced at Tim, worry in his brows, but Tim let out a tiny relieved laugh as he smiled.

“And you wanted to have a dry party…” Rhys rolled his eyes playfully, giving Timothy’s hand a tiny squeeze as Jack stumbled further into the kitchen, arm now slung over Nisha’s shoulders.

“So? What do you say, little brother?”

“I’m older than you.”

“I meant little in awesomeness. And eggnog drinking.” Jack winked, holding up his free hand. “Prove me wrong?”

Timothy looked his brother up and down. Rhys glanced at him, ready to step in and play the distraction if Tim didn’t want this, but honestly? Jack was already pretty wasted, while Tim hadn’t had much to drink aside from some virgin apple cider. And months of eating nothing but kale smoothies and granola had probably left Jack with very little endurance to tackle all the frothy mugs of eggnog he was boasting about.

Basically, Tim was sure he was going to win.

He squeezed Rhys’ hand back, confidence returning as he trailed out of the kitchen after his brother.

“Winner gets to open the first present, cupcake!” Jack cackled, already pouring way too much rum in his own glass. Tim grinned mischievously as he retrieved his own glass, Nisha already whooping and cheering them on as Rhys watched with a giggle.

“Oh, you’re on.”

“Don’t Wish Me a Merry Christmas”

She and Jack almost never got presents for each other around Christmas, and if they did they were usually given with little if any mention of the holiday. Jack usually forgot to wrap his, and Nisha often just tossed it into a bag left over from past gifts. But when Rhys used Jack’s credit card and bought a tree that almost touched the top of the penthouse and proceeded to spend two hours decorating it with Angel, she knew that anything half-assed wouldn’t fly. And as much as Rhys’ Christmas shit annoyed her, she didn’t want to see the kid disappointed. It was like watching an abused kitty commercial. Nisha had a tough skin but even she wasn’t that cold-hearted.

So it was for Rhys’ sake—cute little festive parasite that he was—that she was braving the pinstriped den of horror itself. The mall, one week before Christmas Eve.

First day of Requestmas done! For the lovely @dauverney who had an idea about Nisha hating Christmas, but reluctantly braving it to go and buy some gifts for her boys 🙂 Just some modern AU fluff with Rhackisha and some bonus Angel too.

Nisha hated Christmas.

Most people were surprised when they heard that. She got a lot of “but everyone likes Christmas!” or “Jeez, what did Christmas ever do to you?” from astonished wannabe well-wishers. Lately she’d taken to telling people her dog died the morning of, or if they were especially annoying she’d upgrade the death from a car accident to a drunken Santa on a rampage. Tragedy tended to make people back off and feel embarrassed they’d ever asked.

So Yeah. Christmas. Nisha. Mixed about as well as hot chocolate and motor oil. 

Though the deluge of holiday crap pissed her off, up until lately she’d been able to ignore it pretty good through years of practice. Avoid malls and promenades. Order most things online. Stick to the single classic rock radio station in her truck that had yet to betray her strict no-Christmas music ban.

But due to some recent changes she was about ready to bit the head off the next festive fanatic that entered her crosshairs.

Like most things that annoyed her, it all started with Jack. He used to dislike Christmas right alongside her. A regular Scrooge she could commiserate with, who would groan and roll his eyes whenever one of the thousands of holiday standards infected even quasi-neutral zones like liquor stores or the DMV. They spent nights others might waste going caroling or decorating cookies instead drinking beer and having rough, secular sex. Their apartment stayed its sleek color palette of black and white and yellow without a trace of red or green infected its modern chic.

That was, until Rhys had popped into their lives.

Nisha had never been opposed to adding another partner to their duo. A third person had occasionally crossed into their relationship over the years, but usually Jack tired of them within a couple of weeks or the slight edge to the couple’s relationship put them off (and on occasion, sent them running for the door). The option had always been there, but no one had exactly fit the bill, up until a little middle manager in Jack’s company had caught the CEO’s wandering eye. It’d been around Valentines’ Day. Jack had called it fortuitous. Nisha thought he just wanted an extra present. But couple choice flirtations and a handful of dates with Nisha tagging along to make the nature of the relationship blatantly obvious to the dumbstruck young man had soon caught him hook, line and sinker. By June, he’d moved in with them.

Nisha didn’t hate Rhys. Not at all, really. It’d taken some getting used to, the fact that her boyfriend having a boyfriend meant she now had to deal with two, but she liked him. He was slender enough but thick in all the places Nisha liked, and though he was sweet he could give sass right back when Jack was being a little brat about something stupid.

But when Nisha had woken up on the first of November to find that the Halloween decor had been replaced by garlands and holly as the smell of vanilla-peppermint candles filled the air—she’d known there’d be trouble.  

Rhys wasn’t nearly as crazy about Christmas as some of the people Nisha had run into had been, but it was still enough to put her off just a little bit. The month had barely started and he’d already bought matching sweaters for the three of them and even Angel, and had roped Jack into doing such cloyingly festive shit as decorating ornaments, ice skating, and making a gingerbread house. Now thoroughly brainwashed, Jack had even bought Rhys tickets to the frikkin’ ballet so they could sit on their butts for two hours and watch people dance to the same music blared on every single commercial that she had to endure. Mercifully, Angel had had a swim meet that evening, so Nisha had been able to dodge that bullet, though Rhys had ended up humming the melodies in the shower the next morning and even Jack had mumbled along to the tune as he’d made his coffee.

They were so mushy with each other that it was small wonder to Nisha that they didn’t melt. They nuzzled their noses together over peppermint hot chocolate bobbing with snowflake marshmallows, blushing like kids on a cold winter’s day. It was like a fucking Hallmark card and Nisha’s head was practically spinning off her neck at Jack’s sudden holiday whiplash.

She and Jack almost never got presents for each other around Christmas, and if they did they were usually given with little if any mention of the holiday. Jack usually forgot to wrap his, and Nisha often just tossed it into a bag left over from past gifts. But when Rhys used Jack’s credit card and bought a tree that almost touched the top of the penthouse and proceeded to spend two hours decorating it with Angel, she knew that anything half-assed wouldn’t fly. And as much as Rhys’ Christmas shit annoyed her, she didn’t want to see the kid disappointed. It was like watching an abused kitty commercial. Nisha had a tough skin but even she wasn’t that cold-hearted.

So it was for Rhys’ sake—cute little festive parasite that he was—that she was braving the pinstriped den of horror itself. The mall, one week before Christmas Eve.

Jack’s wealth afforded them a nice place to live in a bougie neighborhood full of fancy boutiques, speciality foods, and high-priced knick-knacks, all of which were on full display in the shopping mall nearly the size of a small airport. Thanks to the acres of parking, she managed to find a space to squeeze her maroonn truck in without scraping the paint of the Mercedes Benz on her left.

The sight of so many cars circling the mall like sharks made her queasy. The wreaths hanging from every streetlamp seemed like signs screaming “Turn Back Now!” But the sound of the other car door opening sealed Nisha’s face as Angel popped out, bundled in an oversized cargo jacket with colorful reusable shopping bags already slung over her shoulder.

“You ready?” She piped up as she grabbed Nisha’s hand. The sheriff worried her lip before remembering she’d agreed to let Angel put some lipstick on her before they’d left. She cringed for a moment, then nodded.

“God. All right. Suppose we’re already here.”

Nisha only felt more dread as they walked towards the entrance to the mall, navigating the cars still fishing for a spot. There were already way too many people for her comfort level, most of them either yakking or screeching way too loud or looking like they might snap and kill someone if they didn’t get the latest game system for their warbling crotch spawn. She felt tense, hand Angel was holding jerking almost instinctively to where she usually kept her gun clipped as they entered through the sliding doors into the mall proper.

Naturally, the crowds inside were even worse.

“Oh god damn it, look at this shit,” Nisha groaned as she was hit with not only the sight of hundreds more stressed, obnoxious shoppers, but also an audible wall in the form of some sugar-pop cover of “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas.” A song which, honestly? Kind of felt like an omen at this point.

“Ugh. Fuck me.”

“Dad would be mad if he knew you were swearing in front of me…” Angel said with a giggle.

“Yeah, well Jack can go suck eggs,” Nisha hissed, shaking her head. “It’s all because of him that I gotta do this anyway.”

“Hey c’mon, it’ll be nice. Rhys has been really cool to me this year and I really want to get him something special…” Angel smiled, and damn if the kid didn’t make Nisha melt a little bit. It was kind of why she’d brought her along, anyway. Would probably stop the sheriff from going completely fucking bonkers with the sheer Christmas overload she’d have to endure.

The mall’s main atrium was dominated by the biggest Christmas tree Nisha had ever seen—so big it had to be fake, plastic needles simply perfumed with pine scent—surrounded by boxed presents nearly half the height of the average adult and certainly bigger than most the kids squealing and trundling about. Twinkling lines of crystal and LED draped the trees branches, every inch fat with bight red ornaments bigger than Nisha’s head. Garish signs wished her a Happy Holidays while also advertising expensive Santa photo packages. She was just happy Angel was too old and Jack too cynical to fall for that kind of nonsense.

“So, uh…” The sheriff scratched her head, looking about. “Where do we go?”

Nisha hadn’t heard of half of these boutiques. Most of the clothing outside of her uniform was either old stuff or had been bought by Jack, and while he occasionally spoiled her with a fancy dress or jacket for date nights, typically he just gave her his credit card and told her to get whatever she wanted. Her wardrobe consisted mostly of pants and tops and accessories that, while nice, weren’t as pointlessly expensive as some of this stuff. She already had the status, the symbols were a little superfluous.

But Rhys got a kick out of having access to this fancy stuff he’d never been able to have before. Nisha remembered he almost cried when Jack gifted him a Rolex for his birthday. Kid had been little more than an ordinary Hyperion programmer when Jack had plucked him for his personal harem, and he still got a little starry-eyed in a way Nisha no longer did whenever Jack decided to shower him in designer gifts.

So she ended up following Angel’s more fashion-savvy lead, making sure not to lose the teen in the crowds as they squeezed their way into the mall’s least-busy Hugo Boss. Angel had brought along her own allowance, so Nisha let her buy a couple of pairs of socks for Rhys, which ended up rolled all nicely and packed in a little red box with a bow on top. Her own credit card picked up a navy cashmere scarf and a slim pair of leather gloves that’d look good on the kid’s long fingers.

Angel offered to carry the gives in her patterned cloth bag as they trundled off in the direction of the Crate & Barrel Nisha was sure you could land a plane in.

Jack had been bitching about a stand mixer ever since Rhys had confessed his favorite pie was lemon meringue over Thanksgiving dinner, so Nisha picked out the fancier model in the shiny red chrome and put it on hold so she wouldn’t have to lug the damn thing around all afternoon. The price tag had made her briefly reconsider—taking into account the likelihood that Jack would only use it once—but she pushed that out of her mind. As annoyed as the whole Christmas charade made her feel, there was a prickle of enjoyment deep inside at the idea of buying something she knew Jack had talked about. It made her feel a little sly as she added a maplewood rolling pin and a springform pie dish to her lover’s present haul.

They took a break from the crowds to sit on one of the many benches ringing one of the mall’s many decorative water features. Nisha slipped Angel a ten dollar bill and told her to get a waffle cone from one of the fancy ice cream kiosks. While she was gone Nisha darted away, coming back to sit in the same place with a nondescript little black bag next to her by the time Angel returned.

“What’s that?” Angel asked, pointing it out as she licked at the veritable mountain of strawberry-chamomile ice cream overloading the poor cone.

“Adult stuff. You wouldn’t wanna know.”

“I’m not so sure about that…”

“Kid it’s probably gonna go up Rhys’ butt, you definitely don’t wanna know.”

“Eww.” Angel pulled a face, trying to distract herself with the ice cream as Nisha perused the presents they’d already bought.

“Feels like…I dunno. Feels like there should be something more here.” Nisha hummed, bobbing her leg. “Christ. This is like a freaky kind of rush. No wonder all these people are subjecting themselves to this.” She gestured vaguely at the crowds milling about.  

“Any ideas, kid?”

Angel crunched into her waffle cone, chewing thoughtfully.

“Well,” she spoke from behind her hand, “how ‘bout we check out one of those fancy jewelry stores?”

Nisha hadn’t set foot in one of these places since she’d been little and dragged along by her mother. They’d always seemed a little too clean for her tastes, like a doctor’s office almost, with its pure white carpeting and sleek shiny cases and uniformed security.

She pursed her lips, wrapping her arms around herself as she took a cautious step towards the jewelry laid delicately out in the long glass displays. Angel bustled towards the earrings, leaving Nisha alone to browse something her boys might like. She had already started to dismiss the idea of getting them jewelry the moment she’d walked into the store, but to her surprise something almost immediately caught her eye.  

Right smack dab in the middle of the main case were were two pretty rings paired next to each other that practically took Nisha’s breath away. Silver, embedded with fine strands of diamond and that broke around the metal like sap bleeding from a tree. She wasn’t exactly a huge fan of jewelry, but damn.

She put her hands on the top of the glass, peering up close. The rings’ stones twinkled like the enticing little bastards they were. Fuck. Those would look damn good on her boyfriends’ fingers.

“Oooh, those are soooo cool!” Angel awed as she bobbed over from the earrings case, pointed at the pair of rings. Nisha nodded in agreement.

“No kidding. You think your dad and Rhysie would like ‘em?”

“Oh yeah. Rhys likes blue, and dad likes blue ‘cause Rhys likes blue.”

Angel tapped her hand.

“You should get one for yourself, too.”

Nisha snorted.

“C’mon, Ang. I’m buying stuff for the guys, not for me. Doesn’t buying yourself a Christmas present kind of defeat the whole purpose? Besides,” Nisha held out her hand, “silver doesn’t really look good on me. Gold, platinum, maybe, but silver? Nah.”

She bought the two rings before she could second-guess the purchase, watching as the jeweler lovingly placed them in a pair of delicate heart-shaped boxes. The little knowing smile on her red lips annoyed Nisha slightly as she took the gift bag from her hand, Angel quickly thanking their clerk as the sheriff tramped out of the store and back out into the hustle and bustle.  

When they returned home, Jack and Rhys were already there filling the house with the smell of baking cookies. Rhys giggle and shut his eyes when Angel shouted at them to look the other way, and when Jack didn’t do the same he covered his face with a palm dusted in flower. Nisha gathered the presents from Angel, letting her gossip with her father and Rhys about the mall as she went to go hide them in the furthers corner of their closet, underneath the suits in the way back that Jack never bothered to wear.

Cookie decorating seemed lame but as Nisha stripped down and sat on the couch in her boxers and a loose tank top, she still needled Jack to save her one before they ruined them all with frosting and sprinkles.

Christmas morning came quicker than Nisha had expected.

She and Jack had been in a dead sleep, her arm flung across his chest, when Rhys had bustled into their bedroom with small tray balancing three cups of coffee. Nisha had been irritable for a moment as she shook sleep from her eyes, but perked up at the sight and smell of coffee prepared just the way she liked it.

With enough caffeine now in his system Jack was able to trundle out of bed and whip together some apple cinnamon pancakes that drew Angel out of her bed and into the living room where piles of gifts now lay underneath their massive tree. The thing was decked head to do with enough ornaments to sink a small ship, and wrapped with so many lights that they reflected against the pure white walls like a stained glass window. Rhys welcomed Angel with a tight hug and a mug of mint tea to go along with the pancakes as they all took a seat on the couches and began to divvy up the gifts.

Each had a stocking to go along with their haul, ostensibly stuffed with gifts from “Santa” marked with handwriting that was obviously Jack’s—if the ham-fisted wrapping job didn’t already give that away. But they all played along, tongue in cheek as they thanked the man in red for giving them their favorite candies and little stocking-stuffers. Nisha was grateful for the kitschy trinkets, as it gave her and Rhys and Angel something to do as Jack tackled the pile of gifts given to him by servile stockholders and executives.

“Harris really thinks she can impress me with a frikkin’ Spiralizer? Do I look like a guy who makes his pasta out of zucchini? Instead of frikkin flour like a normal human?” Jack snorted as he tossed aside one box in favor of a more expensive-looking one. “Garcia’s got me, though. Cheese knives! Heck yes. We’re gonna have so many fancy cheese parties now, kiddo.”

“Are we?” Rhys looked up from where he was sniffing a tiny peppermint candle taken his stocking. Jack nodded yes and patted his shoulder.

“Dad, can we move onto the real presents now?” Angel moaned from the other end of the couch, the little LED lights she’d gotten from her stocking draped artfully about her shoulders. Jack relented with a sigh, setting his stack of employee gifts on the floor as he welcomed the ones they’d gotten for each other. Rhys insisted they let the youngest go first, much to Jack’s indignation. The bit of peppermint bark Rhys shoved in his mouth quieted him pretty quick.

Angel went just a starry-eyed as Nisha thought she would when she opened the huge, cutely packaged makeup palette she’d grabbed for her.

“So you weren’t getting something for Rhys!” She grinned knowingly. Rhys raised an eyebrow.

“Huh?”

“Don’t worry about it, kid,” Nisha snickered as she nudged Rhys with her elbow. “Go on, open yours.”

“Paisley!” Rhys exclaimed as soon as he lifted the scarf from the unwrapped box. “How did you guys know?”

“She’s seen your boxers, pumpkin,” Jack winked. Rhys’ face glowed with blush as he busied himself opening up the socks, gushing as he thanked Angel with a gentle hug.

Jack went apeshit over his stand mixer, immediately crowing about how he could finally make a delicate enough meringue worthy of Rhys’ palate. Nisha smiled into her coffee, feeling a touch of happiness inside her at the look on her boys’ faces. And they hadn’t even gotten to the crown jewels of her gifts.

Rhys of course, almost cried when he opened the ring boxes, covering his mouth with his hand as he looked at Nisha in shock. But weirdly enough, Jack had a small smirk on his face as he glanced down at his. He looked up at Angel, nodding in the direction of the tree.

“Princess. Why don’t you go ahead and grab that last gift?”

Nisha peered over, slightly confused to see Angel procuring a small box wrapped in shiny purple paper she hadn’t noticed before. She raised her eyebrows up at Jack and the teary Rhys, who was busy wiping his nose on his candy striped sleeve.

“Go on, Nish, open it up.” Jack encouraged as he took a sip from his coffee, watching his girlfriend over the rim. Jack’s smarmy, knowing look was usually kind of annoying, but right now it was kind of making her….excited to see what was in this little box.

She pulled the wrapping paper off with eager fingers, popping open the tiny velvet box to see a copy of the same ring she’d bought for her boyfriends. Except instead of silver, it was cast in rose gold and set with rows of amber stones and deep, purple tourmaline.

“Holy shit, you didn’t, how…how did you…?”

Jack jerked a thumb over to where Angel was wiggling on the couch, just barely able to contain her beaming smile.  

“This one practically dragged us to the mall to buy it for you at the eleventh hour. Took a bit of ‘convincing’ on my part to get it commissioned at the last second in colors you’d like a little more. Though for the record, babe, you look great in silver.”

“Oh, you little sneak,” Nisha wagged her finger at Angel, who merely giggled and tucked her legs up into her oversized sweater. Rhys shyly scooted up close to Nisha on the couch, hand cautiously closing around hers as he rested the other on the ring box.

“Um…may I?” Rhys flustered.

“Such a gentleman.” She winked at him and wiggled her digits. “Knock yourself out, sweetie.”

Rhys gratefully slid the ring onto her finger, his own twinkling in the myriad lights glowing on the Christmas tree.

“You know I’m probably gonna never wear this, right?” She turned to Jack, still letting Rhys hold onto her as she took her other boyfriend’s hand in hers.

Jack shrugged.

“We still wanted to get it for ya. Angel didn’t want you feeling left out.” Jack set his mug down on the table, leaning in to peck Nisha on the lips.

“I know all the Christmas crap isn’t really your thing, but we still wanted ya to know how we feel,” Jack confessed, scratching his belly underneath the fuzzy sweater Rhys had bought.

The sheriff’s face softened as she chuckled. Rhys practically purred as he snuggled up close to her, resting his cheek against her shoulder. Keeping her warm on both sides.

“I gotta…fuck…”

“Language, Nish.”

“Oh shut up, I was gonna say I’m starting to warm up to this whole Christmas thing. Maybe…”

She glanced from Jack and Angel to Rhys, the very kid who’d infected her whole life with festive cheer who was cuddling up to her with all the meek sincerity of a kitten. It was hard to feel much malice towards the holiday she otherwise resented when everyone was being so sweet to her.

Ugh. At this rate, she’d be tame by the time next Christmas rolled around.

But, she thought—as she watched Rhys fumble on his socks to the tune of Jack’s laughter and Angel’s flattery and smelled the scents of pine and apple and peppermint mingling together as they all sat close and shared the warmth of the family—maybe that wouldn’t be the worst thing.

“You can nearly feel the cold air through the walls,” Rhys rubbed his hands over his forearms, “there must be cracks somewhere…I don’t know if I could get somebody to come fix them.”

Vaughn hummed, shouldering his fur cloak back around his body.

“Brick owes me a favor…perhaps I could convince him to come and take a look. If I bag him a pheasant or three, it might help.”

Vaughn crouched down, hugging and bidding goodbye to Cyrus before doing the same to Rhys. The omega waved out the door, smiling sadly after his friend as the young beta trudged through the patchy grass, back towards the town proper.

Rhys started to clean the rabbits to get his mind off the oncoming winter, stripping the fur from the fat with the knife he’d spent the morning sharpening. Cyrus stayed on the other side of the room, curled up to the fire in a blanket—bless his heart, the poor thing couldn’t bear to see any signs of blood and violence, even when it came to something as mundane as skinning rabbits.

Rhys set the skins aside as he butchered the rabbits, slicing their meat from their bones and tossing the latter into a pot of simmering water to make stock. Thinned out, a proper stew from the ingredients Vaughn had provided could serve as a meal for several days, paired with the meager ration of bread and cheese given as charity the week prior. He could dry the rest of the meat from Vaughn’s hunts, and surely Brick would assist in fixing the holes in the walls. The winter would be harsh, but Rhys knew he had to have faith if he was to get through this.

“Are you enjoying the present Uncle Vaughn brought you?” Rhys asked as he cleaned the blood from his hands with water from the bucket, pulling his cloak tighter around his shoulders as he went to crouch besides Cyrus. The small child beamed up at him as he held out his doll.

“Yeah! Her name is George!”

“George is a boy’s name, sweetheart.”

“Well, it’s her name now!”

“I see,” Rhys chuckled softly, sitting cross-legged besides his son as the sounds of bubbling soup and crackling fire. As he usually did, Cyrus managed to squeeze his way into the omega’s lap, resting back up against Rhys’ chest as he softly narrated the adventures of George the Corn Husk Maiden. The omega listened patiently, occasionally commenting on his son’s monologue as he held him close. Eventually, Cyrus curled up against him and tucked his head into the omega’s chest, cuddling George closely as he slowly fell asleep. Rhys chuckled softly, brushing the little brown curls off of his son’s forehead. Cyrus was the only child he knew who could tire himself out by talking.

Domesticity Meme #12: Shoveling Snow

Rhys had proposed just hiring someone to clear the high piles of snow on their front yard and driveway—they had enough excess money after all—but no, Jack had insisted on shoveling all the snow himself in some weird show of virility that had Rhys’ eyes rolling, but whatever. Rhys had needed to get caught up on some work, and without his ever-distracting boyfriend he actually managed to make some progress on one of his projects.

After about an hour, Rhys decided to take something warm out to his boyfriend. He whipped up a quick hot toddy in Jack’s unicorn tumbler, taking a secret sip of his own before he screwed the lid back on. He slipped on his snow boots and shouldered on his coat, expecting to find Jack grunting and sweating away clearing up their front porch.

Instead, he found their yard still covered in snow, the shovel abandoned on the partially cleaned stone path. Deep foot prints in the snow quickly lead Rhys to where Jack was standing proudly besides two snowmen nearly as tall as he was.

“So, this is what my big strong man has been up to, huh?” Rhys laughed, shaking his head as Jack jumped, turning around to look at his lover with a guilty expression and giving Rhys a better look at the two snowmen. Clearly, the one that had been built skinnier with a slim tie of bark was meant to be him, in contrast to the bulkier sculpture with the mismatched rock eyes and exaggerated pecs.

“I…I was getting around to it, I swear,” Jack defended as Rhys trudged through the snow besides, smile never leaving his pink lips as he admired his boyfriend’s work.

“Uh huh. First you had to make snow-me and snow-you though, right?”

“You gotta admit, we make a handsome snow-couple.”

“There’s no denying that,” Rhys chuckled, handing over the warm tumbler, which Jack took gratefully.

“Now let’s get inside and I’ll call someone to shovel our walkway so we can just sit around and enjoy the rest of the day.”

Domesticity Meme # 21: Warm Sheets

Jack’s pretty sure he hasn’t cleaned his own sheets in his life.

At least, not very recently—when you have an automatic bedmaker and several robotic servants tending to the general upkeep of your penthouse, you tend to not think about those kind of mundane tasks. So when Rhys strips the sheets and comforters off the bed and gives the robot maids a break, trundling towards the laundry room with his arms so full of bedding Jack’s not sure if he can see where he’s going, the alpha is a bit confused.

“What’s the big deal, pumpkin? You gotta laundry fetish or something?” Jack teases as Rhys shoves the sheets and blankets into the all-in-one washer and dryer, material fitting easily into the kind of massive, state-of-the-art machine one would reasonably expect from someone of Jack’s wealth. A coy, eager smile plays on Rhys’ lips as he turns it on, leaving the machine humming and trembling slightly as he nudges Jack out of the room.

“You’ll see.”

But Jack still doesn’t get the excitement when the machine’s timer goes off, sending a quaint chime throughout the penthouse that has Rhys’ racing to it with an eager pep in his step. He doesn’t get it when Rhys runs to the bedroom and quickly tucks the sheets into the bed, before lumping the comforters on top and diving inside.

“Oooooh my gooood,” Rhys practically moans, his voice muffled by the thick layers of bedding as he cuddles up inside the belly of the comforters. Jack shakes his head, sniffing at the smell of fresh cotton and flowery detergent he can pick out amongst Rhys’ own scent.

“Hmm, so, about that laundry fetish…”

Rhys’ head pops out from the ample folds of the comforters, his hair tousled and cheeks a happy pink.

“It’s so nice and warm, guess you don’t get it,” Rhys scoffs, blowing up a loose strand of hair, “alpha.”

“Pffft, whatever kiddo, I’m tempted to get in there just to show you this isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.” Rhys’ eyebrows raised in a challenge, eventually prompting a dismissive Jack to crawl atop the bed, flouting all the way until he was wrapped up alongside Rhys.

The blankets were like a wonderfully warm hug, softness blooming all around his body, the fresh scent filling his nose and making him feel docile as a snipped bullymong. Despite slight annoyance at Rhys’ knowing look, he let out a pleased chuff, rubbing his nose into the delightfully warm bedding.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” The teasing smile on Rhys’ lips was just begging to get pecked off. Jack let out an affable grunt as he kissed him, snaking his arm around the omega’s waist as the fresh warmth melted him into a cuddly mess.

4 with maybe some naughtiness? Or Jack does an obscene number 5?

Gonna do #4 for now!

Buying furniture with Jack was always a hassle.

The man had a bit of a uncontrollable aesthetic that definitely needed reigning in, and Rhys liked to think he was in a position to tastefully edit Jack’s desires and at least reach somewhat of a compromise, lest everything in their apartment end up in various eye-bleeding shades of yellow. 

But even with Jack willing to compromise on color and style, Rhys still needed to deal with one of Jack’s favorite “tests” when it came to picking out a new couch. 

“Hrmmm.” Jack muttered as he laid down on a sleek, leather number that Rhys had pointed out in one corner of the showroom. His sneakers squeaked against the upholstery as he shifted against the cushions, turning one way, and then the other, before looking expectantly up at Rhys. 

“All right, kiddo, hop on, let’s see if this’ll stand up.”

Rhys flushed, crossing his arms and looking away.

“Can we not do this?” He hissed, looking sidelong at the employees milling about, asking other customers if they needed help or advice. Jack huffed, reaching forward and tugging at the hem of Rhys’ shirt. 

“Rhysie, you and I both know we don’t wanna buy a couch and lug it all the way home without knowing whether it’s comfortable enough to screw on. You’re gonna end up complaining about your poor princess butt being bruised if it’s not good enough, so shut up and hop up on my dick.”

“You are the worst,” Rhys groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers as Jack continued to needle him and tug at his clothes. Finally, Rhys took a quick look around to make sure all the other employees were busy, before sliding atop Jack. His face practically glowed with embarrassment as he glared down at his boyfriend’s cheeky face.  

“Sooo, what do you think?” 

“It’s great. Fine. Super comfortable. You happy now?” Rhys scowled as he tried to get back up, only for Jack’s hands to latch onto his hips and hold him into place. Rhys protested pathetically, wiggling his hips against Jack’s palms.

“Jack, c’mon, you had your fun, this is stupid…” He tried to tug away, only for Jack to jerk him forward, toppling him off his balance and causing him to land on top of his boyfriend with a startled squeak. 

“Jack!” Rhys shoved himself up, suddenly only a couple of inches separating his lips from his boyfriend’s. Jack’s fingers rubbed over Rhys’ hips, the tips picking at the waistband of his jeans. He bit his lip, a whisper of arousal fluttering up in his stomach at Jack’s dirty grin.  

“Sirs, um….what are you doing?” Rhys blood ran cold as a calm, sweet, but undeniably concerned voice piped up from behind them. Jack merely peered around Rhys at the stunned employee, shooting her a wink as he smacked Rhys’ ass. 

“We’ll take it!”

Rhys just being a very stressed out boy and not feeling sex so Jack goes to the next best thing to show him love! Aka buying him millions of cute socks!! Jack wraps them up in a huge ass box with a bow despite it not being a holiday too. He would give it to Rhys after a hard day of work and pairs it all with a nice dinner, some wine and some cuddling. Rhys would be so happy he would probably end up crying and Jack holds him until he calms down.

what a sweet headcanon, i love it 🙂 I can just imagine Jack splurging on a massive box of socks with all kinds of colors and patterns on them, even things rhys would hardly imagine ever wearing…but he wears them anyway because its a nice gesture!