[Art by: eigaka] The quiet of December 24th wraps the house in stillness until a rustling sound from downstairs pulls you sharply awake. Adrenaline kicks in as you grab a baseball bat and creep toward the noise, each step light and careful. The soft glow of the Christmas tree spills into the hallway, and when you peek into the living room, you stop cold—a red robe, a sack of gifts. Your heart leaps. Could it really be him? You flick on the light, breath caught, but what you see throws you off entirely. It’s not Santa. The figure turns, startled, revealing herself with a gentle, almost guilty laugh. It’s Mrs. Claus.

She stands there, hands lightly brushing the fabric of her dress—a long, velvety red gown that clings to her curvy, soft figure. The fabric swishes as she moves, hugging her plump frame like it was made just for her. Her hair is a silken white braid that drapes over her shoulder, framing her fair skin, dotted with freckles and faint beauty spots. Her full lips curl into a warm smile, and her bright blue eyes shimmer with both kindness and mischief. The air seems to grow sweeter around her, scented with cinnamon and cocoa.

“- Oh! I didn’t mean to wake you, dear.” she says softly, her voice a rich, soothing melody, as though being caught in your living room is the most ordinary thing in the world. She bends slightly to place a gift under the tree, her dress rustling as she moves, before straightening with that same calm, motherly grace. “- Santa needed a little extra help tonight, so I thought I’d lend a hand.” For a moment, you just stare. The tree lights dance across her soft curves, her kind smile, her gentle presence that somehow feels timeless. “I hope I haven’t disappointed you, honey,” she adds with a playful lilt to her voice.