New food babes! tbh I don't wanna yap too much so here:
As always like, reblog, comment and share! It’s much appreciated. Also always happy for constructive feedback from you all. 𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡
Tagging: @radio-heartbreak, @cocainaaxlsd, @sourwolf-32, @axlslutt, @being-worthy, @s2ckmylips, @thelittletobsterthatcould, @itzbr1tneybtch, @moez7, @celiseee, @favhiddles, @lilith13130, @lizziebennetsbonnet, @easterbae, @takemyroseaxlrose, ㅤꨄ︎ꨄ︎ꨄ︎
Pairing: Modern Axl Rose x Housesitter Reader
Summary: It's christmas time y'all.
The South American tour was finally over.
Axl sat rigid in his seat, one hand gripping the armrest a little tighter than necessary as the jet cut through a bank of clouds. He had never trusted planes. Not the metal, not the altitude, not the helpless surrender of it all. But tonight the anxiety buzzing under his skin had less to do with the air and more to do with what was waiting on the ground.
His house overlooking the ocean. The steady crash of waves. Dijon’s impatient pacing the second he heard the front gate. Whiskey pretending not to care before inevitably giving in. Mr. Blue’s unmistakable snort of excitement.
His jaw flexed as he stared out the window, watching the wing slice through pale evening light.
He hadn’t stopped thinking about that night.
Dinner had been easy, almost suspiciously easy. She had laughed without restraint, her knee brushing his under the table like it belonged there. The wine had softened the edges of the world, but it hadn’t fabricated anything. He knew that much. The way she had looked at him on the couch had been real. The way she had leaned into him had been real. He was used to polished smiles and carefully curated laughter and over the years he‘d began to feel lonely around people.
There hadn’t been a flicker of hesitation in her.
Morning had been different.
Careful. Polite. Distant.
As if she had built a quiet wall overnight and stepped behind it before he could follow.
He had replayed it a hundred times at thirty thousand feet.
Maybe she regretted it. Maybe the alcohol had clouded something, and daylight had brought clarity. Maybe she’d woken up and seen him not as he had felt beside her, steady, wanted but as he feared he truly was.
Too scarred by things he couldn’t undo.
Or worse, maybe she had never meant it the way he had. Maybe to her it had simply been a moment. A slip. Something to correct before it became serious.
His fingers drummed restlessly against his thigh.
Beta’s voice pulled him back. She nudged a small stack of paperwork into his hands. “Final approvals before we land.”
He nodded absently, scanning the pages without really seeing them.
Vanessa slid into the seat across the aisle, tablet already open. “We should finalize the Christmas party details. Decorations first. I was thinking something elegant this year, white florals, gold accents, very clean.”
Axl didn’t hesitate. “No.”
She blinked at the immediate response.
“Not white,” he added, leaning back slightly. “And not too fancy.”
Vanessa’s brows lifted. “It’s a holiday event. It should look elevated.”
“It’s for kids,” he replied evenly. “It should feel warm. Not like a hotel lobby.”
Beta hummed softly in agreement.
“Keep it traditional,” Axl continued. “Red. Green. Lights. Something they recognize.”
Vanessa made a small note, though her expression tightened faintly.
“And catering?” she asked.
“No tiny plated art projects,” he muttered. “Make it food kids actually eat.”
“We could still include a refined selection for the adults,” she offered.
“Fine. But don’t make it the focus.” He glanced up briefly. “Add some Brazilian dishes too. Comfort food. Stuff they know.”
Beta smiled. “Coxinha. Brigadeiro.”
“Yeah,” Axl said quietly. “Exactly.”
They discussed logistics for several more minutes, guest confirmations, music, seating but his attention kept slipping. Every few moments his mind drifted back to the living room in Malibu. To the couch. To the weight of her leaning against him like it had been the most natural thing in the world.
Eventually Vanessa excused herself, moving toward the back of the plane to send emails.
Silence settled between him and Beta.
She studied him for a moment.
“You’re already home,” she said gently.
He exhaled through his nose. “Just tired.”
Instead, she nudged him lightly with her elbow. “Are you going to invite her?”
The question caught him off guard. “Invite her?”
“To the party.” Beta’s tone remained casual, but her eyes were sharp. “She took care of the animals while we were gone. It’d be a nice gesture.”
His shoulders stiffened almost imperceptibly.
“Yeah,” he said after a beat. “Yeah, I should.”
The words sounded simple. They weren’t.
Asking her meant stepping back into whatever fragile space they were standing in. It meant risking another polite smile. Another measured distance. Or the possibility that she would decline altogether.
Beta tilted her head slightly, as if waiting to see whether he would ask her to do it for him.
“You’ll ask her yourself,” she said, not unkindly.
Axl gave a small nod, staring ahead as the plane began its descent. “Yeah.”
Outside the window, the California coastline slowly came into view, washed in fading gold.
You had told yourself all morning that you wouldn’t get sentimental about it.
It was just a house. Just a job. Just a temporary stay in someone else’s life.
Still, as you moved through the kitchen one last time, you couldn’t deny the quiet ache sitting beneath your ribs. The Malibu light spilled warm and golden through the big windows, washing over polished countertops you had wiped down twice already. The floors gleamed. The living room was spotless. The couch, that couch you had deliberately avoided all your stay here.
You had grown into this place more than you expected. Into the rhythm of feeding Dijon and Whiskey in the mornings, of Mr. Blue’s snorts echoing down the hallway. Into the silence that didn’t feel empty. Into the way the ocean sounded at night from the terrace.
And that was exactly why you needed to leave.
It was better to go back to your small apartment. Back to something that was yours. Back to distance. Back to safety.
You stirred the pot in front of you, something simple, comforting, nothing fancy. You had replaced everything you’d used, stocked the fridge, even bought a few extra things to make up for what you’d consumed. It was the least you could do.
Your spine straightened instantly. They weren‘t actually supposed to be coming back today you thought.
Voices followed, low, familiar. Your heart thudded once, hard enough to make you grip the wooden spoon tighter.
You wiped your hands on a towel and stepped out of the kitchen just as they entered.
Beta came into view first.
Relief softened your face before you could stop it.
“Beta!” You crossed the space quickly, smiling wide and genuine. She wrapped you in a tight hug, warm and maternal, squeezing you as if you’d been gone instead of them.
“Oh, querida,” she murmured fondly. “How are you?”
“I’m good,” you laughed softly. “Welcome back.”
Only then did your eyes shift past her.
He stood a step behind, quieter than usual. Travel-worn. Leather jacket still on. A bag hanging from one hand. His gaze was already on you.
There was a flicker there, something unreadable.
You kept your smile polite. Professional.
For half a second, something shifted in his expression. Then he took your hand. His grip was warm, firm, familiar but you pulled away just a touch too soon.
You felt it in the way her eyes slid between you both before she turned toward the kitchen.
“Oh!” she exclaimed softly. “It smells wonderful in here.”
Heat rose to your cheeks. “I didn’t know you’d be back this early. I was just… finishing up.”
„Well schedules changed a little, you know how it is with flights and airports. Did nobody contact you?“ Beta explained walking toward the stove, leaving the question in the air between you.
She leaned over the pot without hesitation, peeking inside. “What are you cooking?”
“Just something simple,” you said, stirring again to avoid looking at him. “Just some mac and cheese.”
Axl hadn’t said a word. You felt him move behind you, heard the dull thud of his bag being placed on one of the kitchen chairs. You could practically feel his gaze between your shoulder blades.
Beta started the small talk effortlessly, asking about the animals, about your days here, about how everything went.
The cats had been good. Mr. Blue had tried to steal your socks twice. You’d taken long walks. Read a lot. Spent some time on the terrace. It had been calm and peaceful.
And then you realized you hadn’t asked a single thing about them.
“Oh uh, how was the tour?” you asked quickly, glancing between them. “Everything went smoothly?”
“It was good,” Beta said first. “Very good crowds. Very loud.“
Beta’s lips curved into something slightly mischievous.
The emphasis made you blink.
He sighed quietly through his nose, the faintest hint of embarrassment flickering over his face.
“It was fine,” he muttered, clearly not interested in revisiting whatever that meant.
Instead, Beta placed a hand over her stomach dramatically. “Well, I don’t know about you two, but I am hungry. Especially with this smell in here.
You hesitated for barely a second, taking in the piece of information before you remembered your manners, offering to share the food.
“Of course. There’s enough,” you said quickly. “Please. It’s the least I can do.”
And somehow, that’s how the three of you ended up seated at the table.
Plates clinked softly. Mr. Blue circled hopefully. The cats observed from a distance like royalty judging the scene.
Beta complimented the food enthusiastically. Asked about your plans now that he was home. You explained that you’d head back to your apartment today after packing the last few things. That everything here was taken care of.
You kept your voice even.
Across the table, he barely touched his food at first. Just listened. Watched.
Every now and then your eyes met by accident and every time, something tightened in your chest before you looked away.
At some point, Beta smoothly steered the conversation elsewhere.
“So,” she began casually, dabbing her lips with a napkin, “we were just discussing the Christmas party plans on the plane.”
Your pulse jumped for no logical reason.
“Oh?” You didn‘t know he would hold Christmas parties but you quickly figured it was only natural that he would. You pictured his living room in Christmas decorations, a big christmas tree set up and lit up beautifully.
“Yes,” she continued warmly. “Decorations, food, all of it. Axl wants something more… child-friendly this year. Brazilian dishes. Something the kids will actually eat.”
You smiled faintly. “That sounds nice.”
“It will be,” she said pointedly.
Under the table, her foot nudged his.
You didn’t see it but you saw the way his shoulders shifted. The way he cleared his throat.
He still didn’t look at you when he spoke.
“We’re doing it here,” he said. “For the foundation kids. And their caretakers.”
Your heartbeat drummed louder.
Beta’s eyes flicked to him again.
You focused very hard on your plate.
The words landed heavier than they should have.
He was looking at you now.
“It’d be… good,” he added, voice steadier than the tension in his jaw suggested. “You’ve been here. Took care of everything. The animals. It’d be nice.”
Your chest tightened, not unpleasantly, but not easily either.
Beta smiled into her glass, pretending very hard not to be watching the two of you.
And suddenly the kitchen felt smaller.
Everyone was waiting for your answer.
„Erm I’m honored really but I‘ll be at my parents, you know?“ You replied quietly. You‘d spend every Christmas at your parents house with your family.
„No not on the 25th querida. It‘s on the 26th,“ Beta chimed in immediately, invalidating your excuse completely.
For a moment you considered it.
But your mind moved quickly, almost desperately, searching for something, anything that would sound reasonable. A prior commitment. More family plans. Work. A vague obligation that couldn’t be questioned.
You had promised yourself you wouldn’t come back here after tonight.
You had promised yourself you would go home, back to your apartment, back to smaller rooms and safer distances. You had promised yourself you wouldn’t put yourself in a position where your feelings could grow any further, where they could take root in ocean views and late-night conversations and the quiet way he watched you when he thought you didn’t notice.
Because you had grown feelings.
And instead of facing them, you had done what you did best.
Across the table, he was still looking at you.
Not pushing. Not demanding.
There was something almost boyish in the hope he tried to keep subtle. Something careful. Like he expected rejection but was bracing himself to take it well.
Your voice sounded thinner than you intended.
“I might have plans,” you tried again, already hating how unconvincing it felt. “I-”
It was a look that could cut through steel.
You felt it land on you before she even spoke.
“Oh no,” she said evenly, leaning back slightly in her chair. “Don’t do that.”
Your lips pressed together.
“Do what?” you asked, attempting innocence.
She gave you that look again. The one that said she had lived too long and seen too much to buy whatever you were about to sell her.
“Whatever excuse you are building in your head right now,” she replied calmly. “I don’t believe it.”
You glanced briefly at Axl.
He hadn’t said anything. But the hopeful look in his eyes had dimmed just slightly at your hesitation, and that hurt more than you expected.
“I just don’t want to intrude,” you tried, softer now. “It’s a family event. I—”
“You are not intruding,” Beta cut in gently but firmly. “You have been here. You have taken care of this house. Of the animals. Of him.” She tilted her head meaningfully. “You are coming.”
You almost laughed nervously. “Beta—”
“I am not taking no for an answer.”
You looked down at your hands in your lap, fingers twisting together. You could feel his gaze again, more guarded now. Like he was preparing himself to nod and say it’s fine if you refused.
That thought made something ache.
“I just…” You searched for honesty without revealing too much. “I don’t want it to be… weird.”
For a moment, no one spoke.
Axl shifted slightly in his chair. “It won’t be,” he said quietly.
Beta’s expression softened, the stern edge dissolving into something warmer.
“It will be loud,” she corrected gently. “And chaotic. And full of children on too much sugar.” A faint smile tugged at her lips. “But it will not be weird.”
You hesitated one last time, the final fragile thread of resistance pulling tight—
Beta didn’t move at first, as if giving you a chance to retract it.
Then you added, a little clearer, “Okay. I’ll come.”
Across the table, Axl’s shoulders loosened in a way so subtle most people wouldn’t have noticed. But you did. The tension in his jaw eased. His hand, which had been resting stiffly beside his plate, relaxed.
Relief flickered over his features before he could hide it.
But the word carried weight.
Beside you, Beta transformed entirely. The authoritative matriarch melted into something warm and radiant. She smiled, eyes crinkling, and slipped an arm around your shoulders in a side hug.
“That’s my girl,” she murmured affectionately.
You leaned into her before you could second-guess it, the gesture grounding you.
The room felt softer now.
Outside, the last of the daylight faded into deep blue, the ocean beyond the windows turning dark and endless. The house hummed quietly around you, familiar, alive. Mr. Blue let out a contented huff near the doorway. The faint clink of cutlery against ceramic sounded almost intimate.
Axl reached for his glass again, finally taking a proper sip. He didn’t say much, but when your eyes accidentally met this time, there was something different there.
Not just hope. There was Gratitude.
And something warmer. Something that made it harder to remember all the reasons you had sworn to keep your distance.
But this time, it wasn’t as easy.
December 25th came faster than you expected.
You woke up in your childhood bedroom, sunlight filtering through familiar curtains, the faint scent of coffee already drifting down the hallway. For a few quiet seconds, you forgot about Malibu. About the party. About him.
Stretching and yawning you sat up, ears picking up on some soft sounds that filtered through the air from downstairs, your mother humming in the kitchen.
Yesterday and the day before had been like every year’s Christmas at home. Your father knocking gently on your door like he had when you were ten. Wrapping paper, soft laughter. The comfort of tradition. It had been a wonderful timer and you fell asleep feeling well rested with a belly full of your mom‘s delicious Christmas dinner.
You stayed there longer than necessary after breakfast but by midday, reality returned.
Your dad insisted on driving you back to your apartment. The car ride was easy, filled with casual conversation about neighbors and family gossip, nothing heavy. He dropped you off with a kiss to your temple and a reminder to text when you got home later.
And then you were alone again.
Since you had returned to your own apartment again, the quiet felt smaller. The ceilings lower. The air stiller.
You stood under the shower longer than you needed to, warm water cascading down your shoulders as your thoughts began circling again.
You pressed your lips together under the spray.
You hated that the thought of her unsettled you.
It wasn’t your place. You had no claim. No right to feel territorial or tense or anything at all. As far as you knew, she was his girlfriend. She had been around long before you ever stepped foot in that house. She fit into his world in a way that made sense: qualified, composed, always at his side.
You couldn’t shake the feeling that she stood directly in the path of something you were trying very hard not to name.
You turned the water off.
You stepped out, wrapped yourself in a towel, and began the slow ritual of getting ready.
Deodorant. Body lotion, smoothing it carefully into your skin, grounding yourself in the familiar motions. You slipped into red underwear, soft, festive, a small private nod to the night ahead.
You stood in front of your vanity mirror for a moment before sitting down.
Your reflection stared back at you, damp hair falling around your shoulders, eyes thoughtful.
You didn’t like heavy makeup. Never had. So you kept it light: soft foundation, a hint of blush to warm your cheeks. Then something a little playful: a touch of glitter on your eyelids. Subtle sparkle that caught the light when you blinked.
You leaned closer to the mirror, applying mascara carefully, then sat back to assess. It was enough. You didn’t want to look like you were trying too hard.
You plugged in the curling iron next.
If you were going to show up to his house, to his event, you were going to look like you belonged there. Like you hadn’t spent half the day overthinking every possible interaction.
You curled your hair slowly, section by section, watching it fall into soft waves around your shoulders. The process was calming.
By the time you stood up again, your room was warmer, faintly scented with heat and hairspray.
The dress hung on your closet door.
Red velvet. White fluffy trim along the neckline and hem. Playful. A little daring. Very Christmas.
You slipped into black tights first, smoothing them over your legs. Then knee-high boots that hugged your calves comfortably.
Finally, you stepped into the dress.
For a brief second, you worried.
You turned toward the mirror again.
The red velvet caught the light beautifully. The white trim softened the look, giving it a sweet, almost storybook quality. It didn’t look like you were trying to impress anyone.
It looked like you were going to make children smile.
And that thought eased something inside you.
You adjusted the neckline slightly, smoothed your hands down the fabric, and gave yourself one last careful look.
You reached for your gloves and a Santa hat, debating for only a second before deciding to bring it. If you were going to commit to festive, you might as well commit fully.
You grabbed a small handbag and tucked your essentials inside: phone, keys, lip gloss, tissues. You hesitated, then added a small pack of mints. Lastly you grabbed the bag with the presents you‘d bought for them.
He had arranged it again.
You exhaled slowly, glancing once more at your reflection.
You turned off the lights, locked the door behind you, and stepped out into the crisp evening air, heart already beating a little too fast for someone who kept telling herself this was just a party.
You slid into the backseat of the Uber carefully, setting the bag on the seat next to you, smoothing your dress beneath you before closing the door.
“Merry Christmas,” you said softly.
“Merry Christmas,” the driver replied, catching your reflection in the rearview mirror as he pulled away.
His eyes flicked over your outfit, noticeable but not invasive. He gave an appreciative nod.
“That’s a great dress. Very festive. Looks good on you.”
It wasn’t said in a way that crossed a line, but it still made you sit a little straighter, fingers folding neatly over your handbag.
“Thank you,” you answered politely.
He made small talk as he drove, asking if you were heading to a party, joking about how Christmas Day rides were always interesting. You relaxed slightly as the conversation stayed harmless. By the time you neared the familiar road leading up to his property, the exchange almost felt normal.
Your stomach tightened the moment the tall gates came into view.
When the car rolled to a stop, he turned halfway in his seat. “Stay safe tonight.”
“I will,” you said with a small nod.
You handed him a tip, Axl had already paid for the ride, of course and stepped out into the cool evening air. The door shut behind you with a muted thud as the car pulled away, leaving you alone in front of the decorated gate.
It looked different tonight.
Garlands wrapped around the metal bars. Warm white fairy lights woven carefully through them. A large wreath with a deep red bow sat at the center.
You could already see several cars parked inside the driveway, sleek, dark shapes lined neatly along the gravel. More than you’d expected.
The seconds stretched in the quiet, your breath faint in the cold air. You adjusted the hem of your dress unconsciously, tugged your gloves straighter, tried to ignore the way your thoughts began racing.
What if Vanessa opened the door?
What if she was already inside, standing close to him?
You told yourself again that you had no right to feel possessive. No claim. No reason to dread her presence.
A soft mechanical click broke through your spiraling thoughts.
It swung open slowly, like an invitation you weren’t sure you deserved.
The driveway felt longer tonight. The house glowed ahead of you, warm golden light spilling from every window. Christmas lights framed the roofline, twinkling softly. Through the glass you could see movement, shadows crossing, people gathered in clusters.
As you walked closer, it became clearer. Classic Christmas songs drifting into the night, layered with laughter, overlapping conversations, the high-pitched excitement of children somewhere inside.
Your heartbeat matched the rhythm in your ears.
This wasn’t quiet afternoons anymore. Not just you and the cats and careful glances across the kitchen table.
This was his world in full motion.
You climbed the steps slowly, boots steady against the stone. For a brief moment you paused in front of the door, taking one slow breath to steady yourself.
The door opened almost immediately.
And the moment you saw who stood there, your shoulders loosened in visible relief.
“Well look at you!” she exclaimed warmly, her eyes lighting up as she took you in from head to toe. “Mrs. Santa herself.”
She stepped back to look at you properly, hands gently clasping your arms as she admired the red velvet, the white trim, the careful curls framing your face.
“You look beautiful, darling. Absolutely festive.”
The compliment made warmth rush to your cheeks. “Merry Christmas,” you said softly.
“Merry Christmas, sweetheart. Now come in before you freeze.”
She pulled you inside without hesitation, the warmth of the house immediately wrapping around you along with the scent of cinnamon, pine, and something sweet from the kitchen.
You adjusted the large gift bag on your arm as you stepped further in.
“Oh— I brought a few things,” you said quickly, suddenly feeling self-conscious as Beta’s eyes dropped to the bag. “Just small things.”
Beta immediately reached for it, already shaking her head.
“You didn’t have to bring anything,” she scolded gently. “Axl’s bought gifts for everyone here. You being here is more than enough.”
You offered a small smile, but you didn’t let go of the bag entirely.
For Beta, you’d chosen something that felt fitting, something thoughtful rather than flashy. A beautifully bound leather planner for the new year, the kind with thick cream pages and gold-edged paper, along with a high-quality fountain pen engraved simply with her initials. She managed so much of Axl’s life, quietly and efficiently. It felt right to give her something elegant and practical, something that acknowledged how much she held together behind the scenes.
For Axl… that had been harder.
He owned almost everything. Anything money could buy, at least.
So you hadn’t tried to compete with that.
You’d done something more personal.
After subtly studying his vinyl collection over the past weeks, you’d noticed one record missing from a particular era he seemed fond of. You’d hunted it down, a first pressing in excellent condition of an album he’d once mentioned in passing, something formative from his early years. Not flashy. Not expensive in a showy way. Just meaningful.
And because you couldn’t resist softening it a little, you’d added a pair of absurdly high-quality cashmere-blend socks. Deep black. Simple. Comfortable.
For Vanessa, you’d kept it neutral.
A small velvet box containing a pair of simple silver earrings, delicate hoops, understated, the kind that could go with anything. You didn’t know her well enough for something personal. But you hadn’t wanted to appear petty either.
And of course, you’d brought gifts for the pets.
Three beautifully wrapped collars, one for Dijon, one for Whiskey, one for Mr. Blue, festive but tasteful. Soft leather in deep colors, each with a small engraved tag. And a separate bag filled with gourmet treats you’d researched carefully to make sure they were safe and high quality.
Beta finally took the bag from you despite your protests.
“You’re too sweet,” she murmured, squeezing your hand briefly. “You didn’t need to do all that.”
You followed her further inside, the sound of voices growing louder as the hallway opened into the living room.
A handful of adults stood in small conversational clusters. A couple of children sat near the tree, whispering excitedly over something shiny in their hands.
It was deliberate, thoughtful.
Axl had grown selective. If there was one thing he couldn’t stand, it was fake people. Fake friends. The kind who showed up for access instead of affection.
So he didn’t invite them anymore.
Only those he actually wanted there.
And as you stepped fully into the open space, a few heads turned toward you.
The subtle pause in conversation.
Axl’s gaze lifted mid-sentence, landing on you.
Vanessa stood beside him, along with two people you didn’t recognize. But it was his reaction that mattered. The way his posture shifted almost imperceptibly. The way his expression changed, not dramatically, just enough.
He looked at you like you’d knocked the air slightly out of him.
For a brief second, the noise in the room dulled.
And then the moment resumed, conversations picking back up as if nothing had happened at all.
And judging by the way his eyes didn’t leave you, so did he.
You hadn’t even taken three proper steps into the living room when a small blur darted across the carpet.
“Olha! Mamãe, olha!” a little voice exclaimed excitedly.
Before you could fully register what was happening, a young boy, no older than four, crashed gently into you, wrapping his arms around as much of you as he could reach. Which, given his height, wasn’t much more than your waist.
You froze for half a second, startled by the sudden contact.
He leaned back just enough to look up at you, his big brown eyes wide with awe, as if you’d stepped straight out of a storybook.
He said something rapidly in Portuguese, words tumbling over each other in pure excitement.
“I— I’m sorry, I don’t—” you started softly, glancing around, slightly overwhelmed by the sudden shift in attention.
Instinctively, you lowered your hands to rest gently on his small shoulders, steadying him, offering a warm smile despite your surprise.
“Hi,” you said carefully. “Merry Christmas.”
He beamed at you like you’d just confirmed Santa was real.
One of the women from across the room hurried over, laughing breathlessly. “Mateus! Meu Deus, let the pretty lady breathe.”
She gently touched the boy’s arm. “Mateus, solta ela. Let her go, sweetheart.”
“It’s okay,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “Really, I don’t mind.”
Mateus looked up at you again, clearly pleased that you hadn’t rejected him.
That was apparently all the invitation the other children needed.
Within seconds, two more kids rushed over, one little girl with braids, another boy slightly older, both speaking in a rapid mix of Portuguese and English.
“Você é ajudante do Papai Noel?”
“Your dress is so pretty!”
The questions came from all sides, overlapping, enthusiastic, impossible to answer fast enough.
You laughed softly, trying to keep up.
“No, no real fur,” you reassured gently. “And I’m not Mrs. Santa. Just… festive.”
They didn’t seem convinced.
Mateus was still holding onto you, now proudly announcing something about you to the others in Portuguese as if he’d personally discovered you.
You tried to respond to each child, bending slightly so you weren’t towering over them, asking their names when you could catch them between bursts of chatter. You caught words here and there: Natal, bonito, presente and filled in the gaps with smiles and nods.
You were suddenly very aware that most of the room’s attention had shifted again.
The “pretty lady” had become the center of a small, chaotic orbit of children.
Finally, the same woman stepped forward again, laughing as she gently herded them back.
“Okay, okay. That’s enough. The pretty lady needs space now.”
A few small groans followed in protest.
Mateus squeezed you one last time before reluctantly letting go, still staring at you like you might disappear if he blinked.
You straightened slowly, smoothing your dress, your heart beating a little faster from the unexpected attention.
And when you glanced up, you found Axl watching the entire thing.
His expression wasn’t easy to read.
But there was something there.
Something quieter than before.
Something that hadn’t been there when you first walked in.
From across the room, you saw him shift.
Axl finally disengaged from the conversation he’d been half-listening to, his body angling toward you with quiet intention. There was no rush in him, there never was anymore but there was decision. He was coming to you.
She slipped out from beside him quickly, heels clicking against the floor, her smile already widening as she closed the distance between you faster than he did.
Before you could brace yourself, her arms wrapped tightly around you. It wasn’t a tentative hug. It was full, dramatic, almost possessive in its enthusiasm.
“Merry Christmas!” she exclaimed brightly, her voice carrying just a little louder than necessary. “Look at you!”
You stiffened for half a second, caught off guard by the sheer intensity of it. You hadn’t expected… this. Not that level of excitement. Not that familiarity.
It felt odd, it felt rehearsed.
Like she wanted everyone watching to see it.
You hugged her back politely. “Merry Christmas.”
She pulled back just enough to hold you at arm’s length, her hands still gripping your upper arms as she looked you over with exaggerated delight.
“That dress is incredible. You look wonderful. So lovely. I mean, you’re basically glowing.”
You smiled, a little awkward but composed. “Thank you. That’s really sweet.”
Her grin lingered a beat too long before she finally stepped aside.
And that was when Axl reached you.
He didn’t raise his voice.
He simply stepped forward, his presence shifting the air subtly. Both you and Vanessa turned toward him.
His smile was wide but not performative. His eyes were softer than they’d been all evening.
“Merry Christmas,” he said.
And before there was space for hesitation, he closed the distance and pulled you into him.
The hug was firm. Grounded. Not fleeting.
It felt natural, especially after the way you’d greeted everyone else tonight. It would have been stranger if he hadn’t.
Still, there was something in it that wasn’t purely social.
His hand settled securely between your shoulder blades. His other arm wrapped fully around you. You felt the steady warmth of him, the faint scent of something clean and familiar.
You fit there too easily.
“Merry Christmas,” you replied softly against him.
He leaned back just enough to look at you properly.
And unlike Vanessa, he didn’t rush it.
His gaze moved with quiet attention, taking in the trim of your dress, the way the fabric fit you, the subtle details. The way you’d styled your hair. The earrings. The effort.
“That red suits you,” he said, voice low but certain. “The velvet especially. And the curls.” A small, almost private smile touched his mouth. Even though he didn’t say anything special, it didn’t feel generic, no this felt honest, genuine.
You felt it in the way his eyes held yours for a fraction longer than polite timing required.
“Thank you,” you said, softer now.
Vanessa shifted slightly beside him.
And for just a second, the warmth in the room sharpened into something thinner.
But Axl didn’t look away.
Only then did you finally have a second to breathe.
To actually take in where you were.
Your eyes wandered slowly across the living room, and you felt yourself soften at the sight of it.
The entire space had been transformed.
A large Christmas tree stood proudly in front of the tall window, its branches full and perfectly shaped. Red and green lights glowed warmly against the darkened glass, reflecting softly back into the room. Elegant ornaments were woven between more traditional ones, deep burgundy baubles, delicate gold accents, ribbons tied just right. It wasn’t chaotic. It wasn’t overdone.
Magical, in a quiet, grown-up way.
You nodded to yourself before looking back at him. “It’s beautiful,” you said sincerely. “Really. It looks… magical in here.”
Axl’s mouth curved into a modest smile.
“Yeah?” he asked, almost shyly.
You nodded again. “It’s lovely.”
He huffed softly through his nose, glancing toward the kitchen. “That’s mostly Beta,” he admitted. “She handled all this.”
As if summoned by the mention of her name, your head turned toward the kitchen doorway, where you could see Beta moving about, directing someone gently, adjusting a platter.
And in that small moment when your attention shifted, Axl stepped closer.
Just enough that you felt it.
“You hungry?” he asked quietly.
There was something different in his tone now. Lower. More private.
You hadn’t realized how close he’d gotten until you turned back and nearly brushed into him.
“A little,” you admitted with a small smile.
He gave a faint nod, satisfied, and without making a show of it, his hand hovered near the small of your back, not quite touching, but guiding.
He led you toward the kitchen, the noise of the living room fading slightly as the scent of food grew warmer, richer.
The kitchen island and extended counters had been turned into a generous buffet. Steam curled faintly into the air from several dishes. There were trays of Brazilian specialties, golden pão de queijo stacked high, savory empadas, fragrant rice and beans, farofa, roasted meats glazed and glistening. The aromas were deep, comforting, layered with garlic and spice.
Alongside them sat a few more traditional American Christmas dishes, sliced ham, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, buttery rolls.
It was a blend of cultures. Of homes.
You slowed slightly as you approached, taking it all in with wide eyes.
“Wow,” you murmured. “This looks incredible.”
Axl watched your reaction more than the food.
“Beta made sure nobody leaves hungry,” he said.
And standing there beside him, warmth from the kitchen lights catching in the decorations behind you, the noise of conversation drifting in from the other room, you felt, just for a second, like you belonged there.
Beta moved closer to you with gentle efficiency, pointing at each dish as she explained what it was, switching between Portuguese and careful English, making sure you understood. You listened attentively, nodding, asking small questions, letting her guide you through it.
At some point she took it upon herself to start building your plate.
“A little of this… you’ll like that… not too spicy,” she assured you warmly.
You laughed softly and let her. In the end your plate held a careful mix of Brazilian dishes, golden pão de queijo, a spoonful of farofa, rice and beans, something rich and slow-cooked you couldn’t yet pronounce and a few safer classics you recognized.
You glanced at Axl briefly, unsure whether he was actually hungry himself or just assembling a plate out of solidarity so you wouldn’t have to sit there eating alone under everyone’s quiet observation.
It was hard to tell with him.
Either way, he picked up a plate too.
And soon enough the two of you found yourselves seated at the long dining table again, settling into chairs side by side but not too close. The hum of conversation filled the space, layered with children’s laughter and the occasional burst of Portuguese you still couldn’t follow.
Partly to taste everything properly.
Partly because your senses were still catching up.
Your eyes kept drifting across the table settings, the glow of the tree visible from the other room, the adults you didn’t recognize but who clearly belonged here. They moved with familiarity, with comfort. Some of them were caretakers, you realized, keeping a loose but attentive watch on the kids.
They ran in and out, giggling, chasing each other through the hallway and toward the terrace doors.
You turned slightly in your chair when you noticed movement outside.
An inflatable bouncy castle had been set up on the terrace, lights wrapped along the railing so it glowed against the dark winter evening. The children shrieked with joy as they jumped inside it, small silhouettes bouncing against colored vinyl.
Your lips parted slightly.
He didn’t interrupt you right away. He let you look. Let you take it in. His fork moved slowly against his plate while his eyes flicked toward you every now and then, measuring.
After a minute he leaned back slightly in his chair.
“I know,” he said quietly, almost amused. “It’s a lot.”
You shook your head immediately, though a breath of a laugh escaped you.
“No—” You paused. “Well. Yes. But…”
You looked around once more, at the lights, the children, the food, the warmth of it all.
“It’s perfect,” you finished softly. “It’s… a magical Christmas.”
Something in his expression shifted at that.
You swallowed lightly before continuing, your voice gentler now.
“It’s the first time in a long time that it actually feels like this.” You gestured vaguely to the room. “Like when I was a kid.”
You smiled faintly, though it held a trace of nostalgia.
“Something changes when you grow up. Christmas doesn’t feel as… big anymore. Or as magical. You still celebrate, but it’s different. Quieter. Less… bright.”
Your eyes found the bouncing castle again, the pure, uncomplicated joy on the children’s faces.
“But this?” you said softly. “This feels like how I remember it.”
Axl didn’t answer immediately.
And there was something deeply satisfied in the way he did.
Axl’s lips had just parted, his attention still fully on you, when movement from the side interrupted the moment.
A man stepped up to the table.
You hadn’t noticed him before.
He was younger, late twenties maybe, well dressed without looking stiff about it, dark hair pushed back casually, a certain effortless confidence in the way he carried himself. Handsome, undeniably. In one hand he held two slender glasses filled with prosecco, bubbles rising lazily to the surface.
“For you,” he said smoothly, offering one of the glasses with an easy, gentlemanly smile.
The suddenness of it caught you off guard. Your fingers paused mid-movement before you looked up at him properly. There was something deliberate in the way he held your gaze, warm, assessing, just a little too focused.
“Oh—thank you,” you replied politely, accepting the glass.
Your fingers brushed as you took it, and you offered him a small, appreciative smile out of reflex.
“Sorry, man,” he said, almost sheepish but not quite. “Didn’t bring one for you. Figured the lady comes first… and you probably already have one somewhere.”
It was subtle, so subtle most people wouldn’t have caught it but you felt Axl shift beside you.
Not dramatically. Not outwardly.
He didn’t stiffen completely. Didn’t glare. Didn’t interrupt.
But something in his posture changed. His shoulders squared just slightly. His jaw tightened for half a second before smoothing out again.
He leaned back a fraction in his chair, one arm resting casually along it, the picture of composure.
“All good,” he replied evenly, brushing it off with a small nod. His tone stayed calm, measured. “Appreciate you looking out, Nicholas.”
To anyone else, it would’ve sounded relaxed.
But you were close enough to notice the faint tension behind it.
The younger man’s attention drifted back to you almost immediately.
“So,” he said, gesturing lightly toward your glass, “can’t have you sitting here without something to drink, right?”
There it was again, that smoothness. That easy slide into familiarity.
He introduced himself, asked you where you were from. If you’d been enjoying the evening. Complimented the dress again, this time with a different tone than Vanessa’s, less sugary, more direct. His eyes lingered a little too long when you laughed politely at something he said.
And through all of it, you could feel Axl beside you.
Quiet. Watching. Not interrupting. Not claiming your attention.
But undeniably aware of how this man had stepped into a space that, moments ago, had felt private. How he had redirected your attention with nothing more than a glass of prosecco and a charming smile.
Axl’s fingers tapped once against the table before going still.
He didn’t look at the man.
You sat at the table a little longer, letting the last bites of food settle as the room buzzed around you. Axl had already finished, leaning back slightly, quiet, watching the room but keeping his attention partially on you. Nicholas, still hovering nearby, leaned in just enough to ask, “Do you dance?”
You blinked at him, shaking your head quickly. “No,” you said, trying to keep your tone polite but firm.
He hummed, nodding as if he’d anticipated that answer. “Eventually, though,” he said with a grin, leaning just a bit closer, “you’ll have to dance with me if the right song comes on.”
You hesitated, then gave a small shrug. “Uh… maybe,” you said, brushing him off, knowing you definitely weren’t going to dance with him.
Before either of you could continue, more guests arrived. Vanessa waved, calling Axl over to greet them. He hesitated for a moment, throwing you a glance that made your stomach twist slightly, before reluctantly leaving your side to mingle.
Nicholas used the opportunity to shift closer, his knee brushing yours under the table. It was subtle, not aggressive, but you felt it. You kept your composure, smiling politely, answering his questions, nodding at his comments, all while keeping your boundaries intact.
After a while, the effort of keeping him at arm’s length began to wear on you. He followed as you got up to take a look outside at the bouncy castle, his conversation rolling on behind you. Just as you were starting to wish for a reprieve, a small hand grabbed yours.
The little boy from earlier tugged you toward the inflatable castle, his face lit with excitement. “Vem!” he chirped in Portuguese, the sound laced with pure joy.
You laughed, a soft, delighted sound, pulling your hand back gently. “It’s for you and your friends,” you told him, shaking your head.
But he didn’t seem to understand or maybe he didn’t care and kept tugging. Eventually, you relented, letting him guide you into the bouncy castle. Inside, you grabbed his small hand, hopping and bouncing alongside him. The giggles and laughter of the children surrounded you, warm and chaotic, and for the first time since Nicholas had appeared, you felt a small, happy relief.
Here, on the bouncy castle, jumping alongside a little boy who trusted you completely, you had a moment of pure joy, a break from the tension, a reminder that some parts of this night were about laughter, not obligations. And Axl, somewhere back at the table or moving through the room, stayed in the background for now, letting the magic of the moment take over.
You bounced on the castle for a while longer, laughing along with the kids, until suddenly you were surrounded. One by one, they piled on, giggling and cuddling you, shrieks of laughter filling the air. You couldn’t help but start tickling them back, your hands brushing over little ribs and sides, setting off squeals that echoed across the inflatable.
After a while, though, you realized the kids had endless energy. If you didn’t put a stop to it soon, you’d be stuck here all night, gatekept by a swarm of giggling, hyperactive little bodies. You tried to untangle yourself, shifting and wriggling, but it wasn’t easy. They clung to you with surprising strength, little arms holding fast.
Just as you edged toward the side of the castle, a hand reached out. Looking up, you saw it was Axl, not Nicholas, and the sight brought a small, pleasant surprise. You scanned quickly for Nicholas but didn’t spot him, so you returned your gaze to Axl, letting him take your hand and help you to your feet. The other kids released you, all except the little boy who clung to your hip like he didn’t want to let go.
You glanced down at him, and he raised his arms. You understood immediately. Carefully, you wrapped him around the ribs and lifted him, settling him comfortably on your hip. His small arms went around your neck, his head resting on your shoulder.
Axl watched quietly, a soft ache spreading across his chest. He saw the warmth in your actions, the ease with which you moved with the children, and something in him ached with both longing and admiration. He’d always wanted kids but it had never happened, and now the years had made it too late. But you, bright, alive, capable, still had that time. He let himself smile.
“You’re good with kids,” he said, voice low, soft, but full of sincerity.
You turned to him, a light blush warming your cheeks, brushing it off with a small laugh. “Ah… not really. I just try to be nice and friendly to them.”
It was a modest understatement. You were gentle, playful, attentive, and capable of setting boundaries, exactly what the kids needed.
Axl’s gaze lingered on you for a moment before he asked quietly, almost cautiously, “Do you want kids?”
You shrugged, indecisive. “Not sure. I mean… I’m not totally opposed, but I’d want to find a good man first. I’d want the kid to have a good dad, you know?”
The boy on your hip wiggled happily, oblivious to the adult conversation, and you hugged him closer. Axl’s chest tightened again, watching the gentle interaction. You had that rare combination of warmth, care, and instinct that he knew would make someone a wonderful mother. And for the first time, he allowed himself to imagine what that could mean.
The evening continued softly after that, settling into something warm and steady. Mateus, you remembered his name now, barely left your side. He held onto your hand or the fabric of your dress as if you might disappear otherwise, hovering close to you like you were something safe. Something familiar.
You made sure to stay toward the back of the room most of the time, subtly keeping yourself out of Nicholas’ path. Whenever you noticed him shifting through the crowd, you shifted too, finding Beta, helping her with small things, or falling into quiet conversation.
You finally got to properly meet Fernando as well, along with a few others whose names you carefully tucked away in your mind. The conversations were easy, warm, touched with Portuguese phrases you were slowly starting to recognize. It felt more grounded now. Less overwhelming.
Eventually, gift-giving time came.
The children rushed toward the tree in a wave of excitement, dropping down onto the floor beneath the branches, eyes bright and impatient. Beta and Vanessa positioned themselves with phones ready, a few other guests joining in to take pictures.
Mateus tugged at your hand insistently.
You tried to protest softly, but he was determined, pulling you down beside him. He wanted you there for the picture. Along with the other caretakers. And Axl, of course, who as the host was called forward to sit with them too.
You ended up squeezed between small, wiggling bodies, red and green lights glowing above you while cameras flashed. For a brief moment, surrounded by laughter and pine and warmth, it felt strangely intimate.
After the photos were taken, the children were finally given permission.
Wrapping paper tore open instantly.
Each child had five different packages waiting for them, carefully chosen toys, books, games. The room filled with gasps and squeals of disbelief as one surprise followed another.
It made everyone stop and watch.
The adults smiled softly, some laughing under their breath as the kids’ eyes grew impossibly wide, shining with pure, unfiltered happiness.
And only then, with Mateus completely absorbed in his new treasures, did you finally find yourself with a little space again.
After a while, when the initial chaos of torn wrapping paper and excited squeals had settled into children showing each other their new treasures, you remembered the presents you had brought.
Carefully, making sure no one was paying particular attention to you, you slipped toward where you’d left your bag. You crouched slightly, shielding it with your body as you opened it and began taking the wrapped gifts out one by one.
Beta was standing toward the back of the room, watching the children with that soft, satisfied smile of hers. You approached her quietly and handed her gift over first.
“This is for you,” you said gently.
Her eyes widened slightly. “Oh, sweetheart—”
“Please,” you insisted softly.
She accepted it, squeezing your hand in gratitude, clearly touched.
Your gaze drifted toward the center of the room. Axl and Vanessa were both there, surrounded by kids and guests, kneeling down to look at toys, laughing at something one of the boys was demonstrating.
You didn’t want to draw attention to yourself. Not now. Not when no other adults were exchanging gifts. It would feel… pointed.
So you leaned closer to Beta instead.
“Beta,” you asked quietly, lifting the remaining presents slightly, “where can I put these? For Axl and Vanessa?”
Beta followed your glance and immediately understood.
“Give Vanessa’s to me,” she said softly. “I’ll handle that.”
You nodded and passed the neatly wrapped box over.
“Put it in his office,” Beta replied. “He’ll find it there.”
And just then, as if on cue, the music swelled louder.
A classic song began playing, recognizable within seconds and with it came the shift in atmosphere. Conversations softened. Couples began smiling at each other.
And then, to your quiet horror, people started to dance.
Your eyes immediately scanned the room.
You found him near the drinks table, still mid-conversation with a small group. Relief flickered through you when you realized he hadn’t seen you yet.
But then you watched him excuse himself.
And his eyes began searching.
Clutching Axl’s gift discreetly against your side, you slipped out of the room before Nicholas could lock onto you, moving quickly but not running, not enough to draw attention, down the corridor toward the private wing of the house.
Your heart beat a little faster than it should have.
You reached Axl’s office door and without overthinking it, pressed the handle down.
You exhaled in visible relief and stepped inside, closing the door gently behind you.
The difference was immediate.
The music and laughter became muffled, distant, reduced to a low hum behind walls and space. The lighting was softer here, steadier. Familiar.
You let your shoulders drop.
You crossed the room quietly and approached his desk. With care, you set the neatly wrapped presents down in the center of it, straightening the edges slightly so they looked intentional. So he’d see them immediately when he returned.
You hadn’t meant to stay.
But the thought of walking back out into slow dancing, into Vanessa’s watchful eyes or Nicholas’ inevitable claim of that promised dance, made your stomach tighten faintly.
Just a few minutes, you told yourself.
Just until the song ends.
The office was still. Calm.
And for the first time all evening, you allowed yourself to simply stand there and breathe.
Your heartbeat had finally begun to settle.
In the quiet of the office, you leaned back lightly against the wall near the shelves, letting yourself breathe properly for the first time in what felt like hours. The muffled music on the other side of the house sounded distant now, almost unreal.
Then the door handle clicked.
Your head snapped up instantly.
You pushed off the wall at once, standing straight, frozen where you were, eyes locked on the door as it opened.
He stopped just inside the doorway, clearly not expecting to find anyone there. For a split second, the two of you simply stared at each other, both caught, both surprised.
Then he stepped fully into the room and pulled the door closed behind him.
The soft click of it shutting made the space feel smaller somehow. More private.
You suddenly felt very aware of where you were.
His office. The private part of his house. His space.
You had no real business being here alone.
“Hey,” he said gently, his voice low in the quiet room. “You alright?”
You swallowed and nodded a little too quickly.
“Yeah. I— I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—” You gestured vaguely around you, already feeling awkward. “I just came to put your present on your desk.”
His eyes flicked past you to the neatly wrapped boxes resting there.
“My presents?” he repeated, softer now.
You nodded, your gaze dropping to the floor as heat crept into your cheeks. You began fumbling lightly with your fingers, twisting them together in front of you.
“And,” you added, almost under your breath, “I might have also been running from Nicholas.”
The confession came out quieter than you intended.
A soft laugh escaped him, low, warm, not mocking. Amused.
“Were you now?” he murmured.
You nodded faintly, still not quite looking at him. “He remembered the dance thing.”
Another quiet huff of laughter left him, and this time you heard something else in it. Something pleased.
Not quickly. Not aggressively.
Just enough to shorten the distance between you.
“You could’ve just said no,” he said gently.
“I did..,basically” you muttered.
You finally looked up at him then and realized how close he was standing now.
Close enough that you could see the faint lines at the corners of his eyes when he smiled. Close enough to notice the warmth there.
“You, hiding in my office from persistent men,” he said quietly, almost teasing. “Didn’t think that’d be part of tonight.”
You let out a small, embarrassed breath of a laugh.
“I wasn’t planning on staying,” you said quickly. “I just needed… a minute.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I figured.”
For a quiet moment, neither of you moved.
Then his gaze drifted past you, settling on the presents you’d placed so carefully on his desk.
“You didn’t have to do that,” he said gently.
You shrugged, brushing it off immediately. “It’s nothing special, really. Just… something small. And you would have done the same thing.”
A small, knowing smile tugged at his mouth. “I did indeed.”
There was something almost playful in the way he said it.
Before you could ask what he meant, he turned and walked toward one of the drawers in his desk. He opened it calmly, like he’d known exactly what was inside, and pulled out a tall white box, elegant, neatly wrapped, a ribbon tied perfectly at the top.
He stepped back toward you and held it out.
Your eyes widened instantly.
“For me?” you asked, disbelief softening your voice.
You took it carefully, almost reverently, staring at it like it might disappear if you blinked too hard. The fact that he’d gotten you something at all, that he had thought about you enough to prepare this, made your chest warm in a way you weren’t prepared for.
“You didn’t have to,” you murmured.
“Open it,” he encouraged quietly.
You slipped the ribbon loose and lifted the lid, careful not to tear anything. Inside the wrapping was a sleek black wooden box, smooth, elegant, weighty in your hands.
Inside, under a delicate glass dome, stood a single rose.
Perfect. Preserved. Almost glowing even without light.
A small engraving read: The Everlasting Rose.
Your fingers hovered just above the glass as if afraid to touch it.
And then, without saying anything, he stepped closer and pressed a small button at the base of the box.
Tiny fairy lights flickered on inside the dome, softly illuminating the rose from within.
The warm glow reflected in your eyes instantly.
“Oh…” you whispered, your voice barely there. “It’s beautiful.”
The lights shimmered in your gaze, and when he looked at you instead of the gift, his smile widened, deeper, warmer, more unguarded than before.
“I’m glad you like it,” he said softly.
You turned the box slightly in your hands, still in awe. “Thank you,” you breathed. “Really.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out another, much smaller box.
When he held it out to you, your eyes widened again, even more this time.
“You’re kidding,” you whispered, staring at him.
He shook his head faintly.
You took the box slowly and opened it.
Inside, resting against soft velvet, was a delicate necklace. Fine, elegant, the chain subtle but clearly expensive. And at the center hung a rose pendant, crafted in a way that unmistakably echoed the one under the glass dome.
Your hand flew to your mouth.
“Oh my god,” you breathed. “That’s the most beautiful necklace I’ve ever seen.”
He didn’t look at the necklace.
Smiling in that quiet, deeply satisfied way.
“You like it?” he asked, though he clearly already knew.
You carefully lifted it out of the box, holding it up so the pendant caught the soft office light.
“I love it,” you said honestly.
“Turn around,” he murmured gently. “I’ll help you.”
You turned, sweeping your hair over one shoulder to expose the back of your neck. You felt him step closer behind you, close enough that the warmth of him was unmistakable.
His hands came around you slowly, carefully bringing the chain around your neck. His fingers brushed lightly against your skin as he fastened it.
Heart beating faster again but for a very different reason this time.
Once he secured it, his hands lingered for just a fraction of a second at the base of your neck before falling away.
You glanced back at him over your shoulder, smiling widely, eyes still shining from the lights and the surprise and the overwhelming sweetness of it all.
And he was standing close enough that if either of you leaned just slightly, there would be no space left between you at all.
You turned back around to face him fully.
For a second, you just looked at him.
Then your fingers lifted the pendant gently, holding the delicate rose between them as you glanced down at it. The fairy lights from the dome still glowed softly behind you, catching in the facets of the glass and metal.
You smiled, not the polite kind, not the guarded kind.
“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice soft and sincere. “Really.”
He looked at you like that alone had been worth it.
“You’re welcome,” he said quietly, brushing it off with a small shrug, though there was nothing casual about the way he was standing so close to you. His voice had dropped lower, warmer. “It’s nothing.”
You both knew it wasn’t nothing.
For a brief second, the air between you felt heavier again, charged, almost fragile.
“Well,” he added lightly, “Actually, Santa gave them to me. Told me to pass them along.”
“Yeah,” he continued with mock seriousness. “Said I should probably step up my game if I’m trying to impress Mrs. Claus over here.”
His eyes flicked deliberately to your outfit, the red dress, the festive glow still clinging to you.
Not a restrained chuckle. Not a polite smile.
A real, unfiltered laugh that broke the tension clean in half.
Your head tipped back slightly as you laughed, gaze shifting upwards, shoulders shaking, the sound filling the quiet office.
And that’s when you saw it.
Above you, hanging on the ceiling chandelier, tied with a small red ribbon: A mistletoe.
Your eyes dropped from it slowly, landing back on him.
He had been smiling down at you, clearly pleased with himself for making you laugh but he noticed the change immediately.
“You okay?” he asked, softer now.
You nodded instinctively.
But your gaze flicked upward again for half a second.
It would be easier. Safer.
Instead, you cleared your throat lightly.
“There’s…” You paused, almost reconsidering.
“There’s mistletoe above us.”
His eyes followed yours upward.
They both landed on the mistletoe.
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
The tiny leaves and red berries looked almost innocent hanging there.
“What is that doing here?” you asked quietly. “I mean… no one’s supposed to even be back here, right?”
Your voice was soft, almost thoughtful.
Axl didn’t answer immediately.
It had her fingerprints all over it, playful, meddling, intentional. In that instant, he recalled Vanessa having asked him earlier to meet her in his office because she supposedly needed his opinion on something. At the time, the request had struck him as odd, after all, it had been the middle of the Christmas party, and no business matter had seemed urgent enough to require a private discussion.
Now, however, her insistence made sense. He remembered her having lingered a little too long, having repeated that it was important he come to his office specifically. What had appeared unnecessary and strangely timed now revealed itself as carefully planned.
His gaze dropped back down to you.
And when your eyes met again, something shifted.
The world outside the office seemed to disappear entirely.
He looked at you in a way that made your breath catch, not teasing, not amused anymore. There was something deeper there now. Something unguarded.
Feelings you had carefully pressed down all evening, under politeness, under distraction, under running away, rose back up to the surface without permission.
And you didn’t look away.
Your gaze stayed locked on his, your body very still, heart beating louder in your ears.
When his eyes returned to yours, they were darker somehow. More certain.
He took half a step forward.
Close enough now that you could feel the warmth radiating from him.
Like he was giving you space to stop it. To laugh it off. To step away.
And then he made the choice.
His hand slid firmly around your waist, large and warm against your back, pulling you toward him with a decisiveness that stole the breath from your lungs. The other hand rose to your face, fingers brushing into your hair, tucking it gently behind your ear before cupping your jaw, steadying you.
And then his lips were on yours.
The kiss wasn’t hesitant.
It was deep and consuming, like something that had been held back for far too long. Your eyes fell shut instantly, a soft gasp escaping you as your body reacted before your mind could catch up.
You rose slightly onto your toes without thinking, your hands lifting, one pressing against his chest, feeling the solid warmth of him beneath your palm, the other sliding up toward his neck.
It was unlike any kiss you had ever experienced.
There was an intensity to it that felt untamed. Powerful. Like standing in the middle of a storm and choosing not to run from it. It swept through you, thunderous and overwhelming, stealing sense and reason alike.
His lips moved against yours with heat and need, the passion raw but not careless, controlled only by the thin thread of restraint that had nearly snapped the moment he’d stepped closer.
You felt yourself melt into him, your fingers curling slightly at the fabric of his shirt as if anchoring yourself against the force of it.
And then, gradually, he slowed.
His lips parted from yours, but he didn’t pull away. Not fully.
Your faces remained inches apart, his nose brushing lightly against your skin, both of you breathing heavier than before. His eyes were still closed for a moment longer, as if he needed that second to steady himself.
You looked at him with something unguarded, soft, vulnerable, almost stunned by what had just passed between you.
The voice came from the hallway.
It echoed faintly closer toward the office door.
His eyes opened immediately, reality rushing back in as the sound of her footsteps approached.
You pushed away immediately.
Your hands left him, your body stepping back as if the reality of where you were had crashed down all at once. The air between you cooled in an instant.
Axl didn’t move at first.
He would have stayed right there. Would have ignored the voice in the hallway, ignored the mistletoe, ignored the entire world if it meant keeping you close for another second. The fact that you were the one who broke contact hit him harder than he expected, sharp and sudden, like a slap he hadn’t braced for.
But he recovered quickly.
His posture straightened just as the handle turned.
Vanessa stepped inside with a knowing smirk already forming on her lips, clearly amused by something before she’d seen the full picture. Her eyes lifted automatically toward the chandelier.
Her smile widened at first.
Then she followed Axl’s line of sight.
Standing a few feet away now and her smile dropped.
The space between you and him was obvious, deliberate but the tension in the room hadn’t faded nearly fast enough.
Her eyes flicked from Axl to you and back again, her expression sharpening almost imperceptibly as her mind began connecting pieces.
“Wait,” she said slowly, her voice dipped in a sweetness that felt just a shade too deliberate, her playful suspicion worn like a costume. “Did I interrupt something?”
But there was something underneath it. Something tighter.
“No,” you replied quickly, almost too quickly. “We just exchanged gifts. Thanks again.”
Your voice was steady enough. Polite. Controlled.
You didn’t look at Axl again.
You stepped past Vanessa before either of them could add anything else, slipping through the doorway and back into the corridor. The music from the party grew louder as you moved away, swallowing you back into the warmth and noise of the house.
Behind you, the office door remained open.
And inside it, Axl stood where you’d left him, jaw tight, eyes still lingering on the empty space you had just occupied.
Vanessa glanced between him and the hallway once more.
The mistletoe swayed faintly above them.
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