#Christmas! Just a week away! Can you believe it guys! CHRISMAS!

[oneshotgremlin]

OH BOY DEBUGGING I SURE LOVE DEBUGGING (CUTELY EXPERIENCES THREE STRAIGHT HOURS OF SISYPHEAN SUFFERING AS I BEG FOR THE SWEET RELEASE OF DEATH ❤️❤️❤️)

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter thirty-six: pink orange red

“he draws his horses; pretend your anger, and draws his horses, being chosen also.” -”pink orange red”, cocteau twins

On a cold morning in the middle of November, Sam rolled over onto her side and strove to fall back asleep. The memory of standing out in the rain and mourning over Cliff still hung fresh in her memory. This was the third morning this week that she had woken up early because she swore she still felt him next to her. She still felt his memory within her arm's reach, right there, nestled right next to her in the safety of her bed.

She opened her eyes and lay her hand on the spot of the mattress next to her, even though there was no way someone of his stature would lay there next to her. He was right there. He was right next to her. And yet he couldn't feel her again. She couldn't feel him again. She woke up alone for the umpteenth time and she had no idea as to how to rectify it.

Anthrax had already left for Europe with Metal Church, and she had to look over the schedule again to find that Metallica had gone off out west for a little bit before they were whisked across the Pacific. Even though he promised her that she could call him at any given time as she so wished, she had no idea how to get in touch with Joey. It was a cold, blustery day there in New York City, and albeit the weekend right before Thanksgiving: she could go back out West to visit her parents, but that would only mean a couple of days there in Reno before she had to fly on back that Sunday.

Even though it was only for another week and a half before they came back to North America and played there in Poughkeepsie and New York City with the Cherry Suicides, it could not feel more of like an eternity. Those next ten days stretched into the form of ten years without having her friends there.

She rolled onto her back and gazed up at the gray ceiling. She had everything and then with a flick of a wrist, she was back to square one. Back in bed in her own home. It would be four days alone for all she knew, unless Aurora and Marla weren't doing anything then. Four days alone and yet she wondered about the slight wish she had cast for herself. Some time alone to think about everything; some time to herself and no one else.

Indeed, as she thought more about it, she realized she hadn't had much time to herself until after she returned home from school or anywhere else, and even then it was only for a brief time. Four days alone and she could make it work for herself.

Sam sighed through her nose and lay her arms upon the top of the blanket. The question then was what to do in those four days.

All the art she had made up to that point was for someone else, be it Frank and Charlie or for a class. She very rarely cracked into her own private journal for herself. All buried under the weight of class and the very friendships she wished for and held dearly.

Four days alone and she could do it with that journal.

It felt as though she hadn't ridden in a car for a thousand years, even though she and Joey drove to Oswego together. If nothing, she could take the bus to the upstate area. But on the other hand, she wouldn't have her tour guide with her. She could wander about somewhere upstate, but then came the whole deal of taking a bus there in the first place. There was so much to do and yet so much she couldn't do.

Four days alone and there was so much to do between now and then.

She glanced down at her waist: she had lost a little weight in that she didn't seem so round with the blankets wrapped around her, but she also wished for Cliff's touch. She had cried all of her tears for him and yet she still wished for his presence. She wished for a presence. Someone to touch her, to understand her, to be the best friend that he never could be.

She knew the sun was about to come up within mere seconds: a brand new day and a brand new week, and one for herself no less. Nothing better to do than to make herself a cup of brew and go out walking before the snows came in.

Aurora had given her a string of dates to clock in and she knew that had to have been her last day before the Thanksgiving break. At least it was a mere part of the day rather than the whole thing. She would relish in every moment alone.

And yet she couldn't help but wonder about her parents. So far away from home and yet she knew she had to be there in New York. Her one true home. Her parents fought for her, every step of the way because she knew she would blossom on the East Coast. But every blossom wilted and withered and fell from the trees by the time the summer rolled around, and they were long gone come the winter time. She began to wonder about Christmas break with her parents: Chrismas break and without a man by her side.

Add to this, she also couldn't believe how easy it was for her to get into school, in that she barely made a waitlist of any sort. As far as she knew, even Marla and Belinda had been waitlisted before they were accepted in themselves. It almost felt too easy to get into that school. In fact, she closed her eyes again and thought back to those first few weeks when she submitted her things to her counselor Bill, and she started to wonder about him, and if he had a hand in other things, not just the admissions office. So many questions and yet so little time to ruminate over it all.

Sam opened her eyes and she gazed up at the ceiling once again, that time when the first glimmers of gray sunlighht appeared up above her. Today was a work day: she had to get up at some point. Get up, get dressed, and tuck her journal under her coat if in the off chance of her having a moment alone that day.

She took her cup of coffee with her on the subway ride down to the building itself, and all the while she wore that black hat Cliff had given her. She paired it with her long black winter coat and heavy black leather boots. If it snowed, she would stand out anywhere in New York: as black as the East River at night during a hefty rain.

She emerged from the cold subway station with the cup of coffee still in hand and her purse over her shoulder, and protected by the heavy and warm safety of her coat. The rain was upon her, if not the snow. With her free hand, she held onto the crown of her hat as she hurried up the sidewalk. Aurora's car was nowhere to be seen.

“Don't tell me I'm opening today,” she said aloud and out of breath.

A break in the clouds and she was met with a sliver of sunlight as she reached the front door. She pushed it open as if someone had already been there, and she recognized Eric's long fine black hair on the other side of the front room.

“Hey,” she greeted him.

“Hey,” he retorted; right next to him was Greg.

“Hey, girlie,” he followed up.

“Wow, I wasn't expecting to see you guys here,” she declared as she closed the door behind her. “It's Sunday.”

“Aurora wanted us to come in and do some paper work,” Greg explained as he took a seat in the chair against the wall. “Although to be fair we weren't expecting to see you here, either. Given it's Sunday and whatnot.”

“And we're gonna be here for a while, too,” Eric added. “It's just the nature of things at the moment.”

“It's a work day for me—it's only part time but still.” She then stopped right in her tracks. “Wait a minute, you guys are getting ready to record, aren't you?” Eric had a twinkle in his eye and Greg nodded his head. Sam then brought the cup of coffee to her mouth for a sip against the cold.

“Just about,” Eric replied as he took his seat there next Greg, “—I'm technically the one who founded the band so if nothing else, I have to be here myself. Greg is just here so he sees that he gets his money.”

“Dyin' to get our money,” Greg said as he tilted his head back and brought his hands to his chest.

“By the way, do you guys have a manager at all?” she asked Eric. “I was thinking about that a couple of weeks ago—given I'm the first member of fan club and everything.”

“A manager? No, not yet. The Zazulas are the ones overlooking us at the moment.”

A brief silence fell over that room.

“Kind of like the counselors at school,” she noted in a soft voice, and she took another sip of coffee.

“And if it's something important like that, you'd have to balance out that with school,” Greg pointed out.

“I've done it before,” Sam assured him with a raise of her finger.

“Well, if nothing, you gotta at least sit in with us, though,” Eric insisted. “I really wanna see you and I really want you to hear what we've got on deck. Louie and Chuck do, too. I think Alex does, too—given you're Cliff's girl and everything. He's back home right now so I don't know what to say about him.”

“I mean, she did do it with Stormtroopers,” Greg pointed out.

“I did it with Stormtroopers, yeah,” she recalled with a shrug of her shoulders, “and I'm part time with the label and assistant to Aurora, too. I could in fact sit in if you wish.”

“We go in New Year's Eve,” Eric added with a nibble of his lip. “New Year's Eve under the name 'Legacy.' I hope, anyways.”

“If I'm not there, what would happen?” she asked them.

“We'd be sad and be like 'where's our girl?' for the better part of a week,” he said with a straight face.

“Where are you guys gonna be?” she asked him.

“Pyramid Sound—out in Ithaca. We can take you out there right now if you'd like.”

“Nah, I have things to do,” she assured him, and then she snapped her fingers. “Wait a minute—I have Thanksgiving off. That's coming up here in this next week. You still gonna be here?”

Eric and Greg glanced at each other.

“We'll try,” the former vowed, “what’s your schedule like this week?”

“I have half a day Tuesday.”

“How ‘bout then?”

“Sounds good. As long as I don’t have anything important, of course.”

“We’ll get ya back home,” he vowed with a wink, and she extended her hand to him. His hand was warm and dry, but his fingers were rough from the incessant guitar playing. The door behind her swung open, and the three of them turned their attention to Aurora, who had a big grin on her face.

“What you all smiles for?” Greg asked her with a little shake of his head.

“Come on in, Marla!” she called back, and Marla stepped inside from the cold and the gray. The violet had gone and in its place was a bright neon orange at the crown of her head. But as her hair extended to her shoulders, the orange melded into a rich cherry red and bright hot pink. Every step about the floor it looked as though her hair changed colors from orange to red to pink, one right after the other as if her hair was comprised of watercolor. Sam, Eric, and Greg gaped at the sight of the hair and how it seemed to flow about.

“Wow!” Sam declared.

“Beautiful, isn't it?” said Aurora with a twinkle in her eye. “I helped out with it because it was tricky to get right, especially the red part of it.”

“I call it 'pink lemonade',” Marla added as she lifted her hair out from under her shirt collar: the pink and red near the bottom seemed to move about like waves. “I wanted to do it for the Cherry Suicides' show this upcoming week.”

“Oh, yeah, that's right! It's this week!”

“Providence and then upstate in Poughkeepsie.”

“We really gotta be here now, Greg,” Eric proclaimed right behind Sam and Aurora.

“For sure, Eric. Seeing a bunch of punk chicks with Metallica after a week of a great feast. And we owe li'l Sam here a ride out to Ithaca—”

Sam paid no attention to Greg's waxing lyrical given Marla's hair had given her some sort of awakening right before school started and then ended again for a bit. Some time alone but she knew it was going to be worth it, especially with hair like that.

She couldn't hardly focus on her work that day given she kept on thinking about her rendezvous with Eric and Greg in the next room, and also her seeing the Cherry Suicides with Metallica. How exciting it must have been for Zelda in particular. Sam was so distracted by the whole thing that she spent her entire lunch break with the journal in hand.

She thought back to Zelda and that day in her apartment when Aurora broke the news to her. They were coming home to Providence, and Sam couldn't help but laugh at it. She thought about that full bodied painting of Joey on canvas and how it was still in the back seat of his car. There was another thing she had to do: a better, more finessed rendition of Joey in the buff. But that thought led her back to Zelda.

Their name was the Cherry Suicides, and they were dark and fast but incredibly girlish at the same time, almost like black cherries. They owed so much to Wendy O. Williams and yet they moved in a whole other direction altogether.

She brought the pencil to the paper and she sketched out Zelda's head first. All the inexplicable struggle with graphite and correctly shading everything was about to pay off with her short bob of dark hair. A little oval shaped face and deep seductive eyes, and then she followed it up with her lanky drummer's body and a myriad of cherries around her. Given she only had the one pencil to work with, Sam shaded in the cherries with the side of the graphite, but it was somewhat difficult given she kept the journal close to her chest. She drew it for herself and no one else.

But she still signed her initials at the very bottom of the page.

She kept it all firmly in mind as she went off to school for the next two days, and by the middle of the day on Tuesday, she wondered if Eric and Greg knew where she lived courtesy of the label or Aurora, or if she had to walk on up there after her last class. Indeed, she stepped out of that front building and she was alone there on the sidewalk. Not a cloud in the sky but a walk nonetheless and with her hand upon the crown of her hat as well.

Sam strolled inside and there was Eric and Greg congregated around Aurora, who had the clipboard in hand once again.

“—so I'll get that squared away for you guys once you get out there to Ithaca,” she was saying, and she turned around at the sight of her best friend in the door. “There she is!”

“Little Sam I am!” Eric declared. “You ready to go?”

“Let's move on out, boys,” she said as she fixed the brim of her hat.

“And remember if you guys need anything, call me back at my place or down at Montana,” Aurora continued.

“Will do,” Eric told her with a shake of her hand, and the two of them doubled back to the door and put on their sunglasses in unison.

“We're the men in black,” Sam decreed as she led them back outside.

“Hell yeah,” said Greg. Eric led them back to his rental car, which was parked up at the corner, right in front of Aurora's car.

“Shotgun,” Sam declared.

“Damn it!” Greg scoffed, and Eric laughed out loud as he took out his keys and climbed in first.

“Her and Alex, man,” Greg added.

“Alex always calls shotgun?” Sam asked them as she followed suit into the front passenger seat.

“Oh, he's terrible with that,” Eric replied. “Whenever we played out at clubs back in the Golden State, he made it a nervous tic of sorts. Sometimes he'll slip it in mid conversation—like we'll be walking to our car and he'll be in the middle of saying something and he'll slip in the word 'shotgun' in.”

“I remember the first time he did that, Louie looked at him like he just slipped in a foreign word or something,” Greg recalled as he shut the back door. Sam slid her book bag down between her legs. She could only assume that it was for the rest of that day and that they would get her home soon enough.

Indeed, when they got on the road, she took out her journal from the inside and returned to that drawing of Zelda. It needed something: it was the start of a new chapter for her and thus she needed to add something more to it. She gazed out the window at the scraggly trees that lined the highway and she thought about Joey. She wondered how he was doing while on tour and if he was staying away from all the booze and brutal partying.

Next to the shaded cherries on the left side of the page, Sam doodled a glass soda bottle. She had hope that Joey would turn his attention to singing and staying sober with things like soda for the duration of that tour. Clean and sober, like a bottle of soda. The cherries only made the doodle more appropriate.

She hadn't drawn glass much before, but she had seen it in person many times: that little bit of shine on the curvature of the bottle as well as the neck.

Right in between the bottle and the cherries, she got to work on a little rose, in honor of Rosita. And once she had finished the basic sketching, she ran the pencil over it all again to make their shadows richer and darker.

She lifted her gaze again to the dark forest outside of the car. Even though she was in the car with Eric and Greg, she was still technically alone. She sat in a car with two men she didn't really know very well and she was drawing right next to them to boot. She was alone with her thoughts. A few leaves still clung to the dark branches of all the trees, and each one of them were as orange as Marla's hair to contrast with the cold gray in the sky.

Soon the signs for Ithaca emerged from the scraggly, damp shrubs and the memory of the Stormtroopers of Death tour returned to her.

“I came out here with Joey last summer,” she said. “Took me out this way just so I could take a shower.”

“Context?” Greg asked her with a clearing of his throat.

“Touring with Stormtroopers and none of us had showered in days, and I finally couldn't take it anymore and Joey and I drove to his parents' house just for that.”

“Ohhhh, shit,” Eric groaned.

“Damn, that's rough,” Greg joined in, “kinda metal, though. You went from one place to another just for a shower and hung out with the Stormtroopers.”

Sam moved over to the right side of the paper and Eric took a glimpse over at her.

“Amazed you can draw while you're in the car,” he admitted. “I try to do that and I get dizzy almost immediately.”

“I feel the drive to create, you know?” she said as she kept her eyes on the cherries to the right of Zelda. “I want to make something in Cliff's wake, too. He did the same thing after his brother died after all.”

“That he did,” he replied in a thoughtful tone.

They fell back into silence and that gave her more time to finish the drawing. That one drawing just for herself, and she had ran the pencil over her initials once again by the time they rolled into that first intersection in Ithaca. She opened the journal even more across her lap for Eric and Greg to see. The former gaped at it and for so long that he kept the car in place there for almost too long.

“Holy shit,” he said as he lunged forward to the fuel station on the corner. Sam lifted up the journal so Greg himself could see it from the back seat.

“That's fucking beautiful,” he remarked.

“You ought to show that to Alex when you see him again—he's bit of an art kid,” Eric told her as he returned to the street.

“Oh, yeah, that's right!” She thought about that leaf of rice paper back in her apartment, still there in the safe place of her drawer. “What is with these heavy metal guys and a love of the arts,” Sam chuckled. “Lars is an art guy, Charlie's an art guy, and now I find out Alex is one, too.”

“You're a lot like us,” Eric replied, nonplussed. “We're dark and pissed off—there's something about you that's dark and pissed off. Aurora told me where the studio is—I just forget—oh, wait, there it is.”

It was a small brick building tucked back in the trees, with a little narrow walkway up to the front door that resembled to the walkway at school, and it stood a bit away from the actual road, and Eric told her it would serve as the perfect spot for them to get as loud as they could.

“Just so long as there's no one else in there with us,” Greg pointed out. “Come in here around New Year's and totally raise some hell.”

Sam lingered near the car, and she peered up at the dark trees. The one next to her still had a pair of leave on the lowest branch: a single dark red leaf next to a yellow one. She thought of Cliff and the yellow tulips back home, still strong and stout against all odds.

Within time, Eric and Greg drove her back to the Bronx, and by that time, night had fallen and she wished to make more art in Cliff's honor. Art for herself as well as him. She had a whole day to herself with nothing to think about and no one to spend it with, and thus she sat down with the journal and her colored pencils.

She thought about those thirty one ink drawings she had made the year before in honor of Spreading the Disease, except these were to honor herself and Cliff. All the colors, and all the dark graphite. Herself with Cliff. Their arms around each other's love and their lips pressed upon each other: nothing too much and nothing too intense, and yet making them took a great deal out of her. And that night, she went off to bed and fell asleep by the time her head hit the pillow.

She had cried out all her tears for him but drawing herself with him was what buried the coffin under the earth. By Sunday and her realization that she was to witness Zelda in front of a real crowd of people, she closed the journal and lay it on her desk. Its final resting place.

The show itself in Providence took place the next day while Sam was at school, but Marla insisted on going because the next day was Thanksgiving.

“We've got to—it's home coming for the Cherries,” she had said, and thus the two of them plus Belinda climbed into Charlie's car and they made the two hour drive to Providence once school let out. Every time Marla flipped her hair back, all the colors shimmered and waved about as if her hair was made of titanium. There was no way Zelda could miss them out in that big crowd.

And a big crowd it was: the four of them congregated off to the side, right next to the stage, and they watched the four girls roar forth in front of two thousand people. A band that had been playing in clubs were finally able to stretch their wings and let their sound ring out.

“This is the type of show they needed to play,” Belinda declared in a voice barely loud enough for Sam and Marla to hear.

They closed out their set with “Day of the Dead” and Sam thought about that night three weeks before. She closed her eyes and let the music guide her way. Cliff's arms. Cliff's safety and the extent of his heart. But alas, she couldn't.

She finally put him to bed. Zelda slammed the cymbals one last time and the crowd before them erupted.

“Thank you, Providence!” Morgan shouted into the microphone. “We love our home!”

The four of them ducked off stage, and Marla clapped over her head once Zelda appeared with a wide euphoric grin on her face.

“Oh, my god, that was insane!” she shrieked as she picked up a full water bottle from a table next to the wall. She pushed her black hair back and she let Rosita pour the cold water over her hot forehead. “That's what I'm talking about!”

To think they were on the brink of disbanding and giving it all up, and they performed as though their lives depended on it. Even though she was hot and sweaty, Sam still threw her arms around her and held her close. And she stayed there with them as they watched Metallica, Sam's first time seeing them with Jason.

It seemed hard to believe, even implausible, to think that those three men had already experienced so much in such a short amount of time, much like how she did herself. But in that year alone, they had put out a brand new record and embarked on a huge tour, plus James shattered his arm, and then they lost their brother from another mother. And yet, here they were, in all their glory. Five years into the whole adventure and yet they had come such a long way.

At one point, Jason nodded over at her with a little smirk on his face. His curled bangs kissed his brow, and she could make out the little twinkle in his eye. She nodded at him as he played along: not even a few weeks into the fold, and he was already a good hard part of it.

“We're back, baby,” she whispered: the faintest of whispers such that the surrounding crowd couldn't hear her, but she knew Cliff could, even when she finally put him to bed.

[misssophiachase]

Do They Know It’s Christmas?

Thanks to the awesome @jasmineandlillies for suggesting the second drabble on my prompt list here x : )  I admit I have changed it slightly but hope you still like it. Oh and hope you had a Merry Christmas!

Prompt: High School classmates Caroline Forbes and Klaus Mikaelson are both stuck volunteering as elves over Christmas at the local mall. Klaus lost a bet and Caroline might have conveniently lost a ‘reindeer.’ Can they find some common ground and a little Christmas spirit in the process?

“You have got to be kidding me,” she drawled, her blue eyes widening. One minute she was dreading her upcoming punishment, the next he was in her periphery.

Although they attended the same school and had known each other for three years they’d never really communicated. He was Soccer Captain and she was Class President so they didn’t run in the same circles.

Not that it had stopped Caroline from thinking he was the biggest womaniser in school, even if he was gorgeous. Same with Klaus, although swap out womaniser for ridiculously high strung.

“I thought elves were supposed to be cheerful?” He offered, his left dimple making an unexpected appearance.

“In this outfit?” She said, looking down at her green and white striped attire. “Not likely.”

“So, you do have a sense of humour?” 

“Excuse me?”

“You seem incredibly neurotic, love.”

“Says the guy who wouldn’t be caught dead volunteering especially in that elf costume.” 

“I think it looks rather fetching,” he balked, puffing out his broad chest to prove his point. Caroline would have been lying if she didn’t think he was looking kind of cute. 

“Well, then you need a mirror.”

“For someone called Sugarplum,” he murmured, his eyes resting on the nametag on her chest of all places.  “I think you need a new name to match that attitude.” 

“Says Snowball,” she offered, gesturing to the name etched on his costume. 

“Let’s just say it’s growing on me, slowly. I know, how about we rename you Grumpy?”

“Grumpy is a dwarf,” she shot back. “But if we were hanging out with Snow White and not St Nick, maybe we could call you Dopey.”

“I knew Grumpy was fitting,” he joked. “Last time I checked Caroline Forbes lives for Christmas.”

“You don’t even know me, Mikaelson.”

“Au contraire,” he argued. “I’m fairly certain the fact Christmas has thrown up all over the school has something to do with our esteemed class president.”

“What a wonderful picture you paint.”

“No need for painting, I think your decorations can be seen from space, love.”

“Well, now we’ve dispensed with the formalities, why in the hell do I have the pleasure of your company?”

“Only Caroline Forbes would insult someone so politely.”

“Should I be worried that you seem to know so much about me?” He held her gaze briefly, Caroline trying to maintain her composure but this annoying Brit made it so difficult. 

“You seem overly angry about having to volunteer. Now, if I’m not mistaken someone has lost their Christmas spirit.” 

“Yes, right when I arrived and realised I had to work with you. Why are you here anyway?”

“I stupidly bet Matt Donovan that I could block his shot,” he admitted. Caroline had known Matt since they were in pre-school, even she knew that his aim was bad and was why he always played defense. 

“Yeah, that was stupid,” she grumbled. 

“You never said why the squeaky-clean school captain was here,” he said, ignoring her previous comment on purpose. “I would have assumed you volunteered but given that lovely demeanor I suspect otherwise.”

“I..” before she could finish their Santa dressed boss interrupted and not long after the screaming children were front of mind.

2 weeks later

“You might scare away the kids with that scowl,” he teased, adjusting his elf hat in the process. “But I’m harder to crack, love.”

The store was closed, immersed in darkness. Santa had left a few hours earlier and it was left to his elves to clean up the tinsel and stray candy canes.  

They’d been working together fourteen days straight and things had run smoothly for the most part. Turned out Klaus Mikaelson was amazing with children and Caroline wasn’t quite sure how to deal with it, let alone deal with their close proximity. 

“Teasing me isn’t going to get you...”

“What exactly do I want?” He stopped sweeping the stray tinsel, his eyes focusing on hers.

Caroline wasn’t one to be stuck for words, in fact, she had an answer for everything. She decided that Klaus Mikaleson, right then and there, was evil. 

“Well, I mean..”

“Why are you really here, Forbes? And for once I don’t want any excuses because from what I can tell this zombie, Christmas-hating person is messing with the balance of nature.”

“If you must know I kind of took an animal.”

“You stole from the zoo?”

“No,” she groaned.��“I’m not some petty criminal. You know the school mascot?”

“Dottie the reindeer?”

“She’s actually a deer, you know because reindeers don’t actually exist in real life,” Caroline hissed. 

“I really hope you haven’t been telling the kids that, love.”

“Has anyone told you what an ass you are?”

“Constantly,” he shot back, his authoritative tone telling her he wasn’t lying. “But you’re still avoiding the question.” 

“I kind of rescued her from having to take part in sporting activities over Chrismas, it was the least I could do.”

“I thought you were lying, you actually stole Dottie?” He asked, open-mouthed. 

“I don’t steal...”

“Yes, because admitting that would ruin your perfect school record.”

“It wasn’t about that,” she murmured, feeling deflated. Caroline always put on an act for the most part.

She did love Christmas.

She did love Dottie.

But not this year.

This year her parents had decided to rain on her parade by getting a divorce and she’d decided to let Dottie free, much like she wanted to be. 

“I’m a monster,” she gulped, realising just what she’d done in order to deal with her family issues. 

“Please tell me you fed poor Dottie?”

“Of course I did, ass! Are you always such a bad comedian?” She grumbled, not expecting his hand to find her face and cup her cheek.

“Believe it or not I care about you.” She stilled, her eyes meeting his gaze and struggling to look away from its incredible intensity. 

“You don’t even know me,” she sighed, trying to regain some composure. 

“You talk, alot,” he offered, his fingers now brushing her cheek. “You are probably the most ambitious person in the school. Your competitiveness, especially on the tennis court, knows no bounds because you hate to lose but at the same time you love your friends and possess an almost crazy sense of loyalty.”

“I’m trying to work out if that’s a compliment or not?” She mumbled, realising just how good he felt touching her. “But even so, I’ve been nothing but..”

“Grouchy?” He smirked, taking her back to their conversation about dwarfs vs elves.

“Maybe,” she conceded. “Any chance you want to get out of here and talk? You know without these attractive costumes?”

“Naked? Why didn’t you just say so?” He joked. 

“Wow, says the guy who let Matt Donovan win a bet so damn easily.”

“Who said I let him win the bet?” Before she could ask Klaus flashed his other dimple and left to change. Even as he sauntered away in those ridiculous, striped pants, Caroline was struggling to resist his toned backside. Perhaps much more. 

Maybe she’d found her Christmas Spirit after all. 

[babyleclerc]

You Make It Feel Like Christmas

Pairings: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Style: One-Shot

Prompt? From @spider--bae: “you know i think getting engaged on chrismas it’s the most cliche thing ever but you fucking proposed anyway + but you proposed in the most amazing unexpected way and i’m actually getting really emotional about it aND I’M NOT CRYING YOU’RE CRYING SHUT UP) with Tom :)”

Warnings: Implications of sex, but no other warnings unless you’re worried about dying from fluff.

Word Count: 1.5K

Summary: A beautiful Christmas Eve spent with the one and only Tom Hiddleston. And it wouldn’t truly be Christmas unless he popped you a serious question, would it?

A/N: Happy Christmas Eve, all! This is something that was inspired not only by the prompt, but also by some very fitting music and loooong IM chats with the one and only @dolangram, who practically planted this into my brain one night last week. I had an amazing time writing this, and it gives me a LOT of feels, so I really hope you guys like it. :3 Enjoy the second to last fic of the challenge and have a wonderful Christmas Eve! xoxo

“That was a wonderful dinner. Thanks again, baby.” You say as you enter your home, sliding off your heels in the foyer and leaning over to give Tom a quick kiss on the lips.

“You don’t have to thank me, darling, you know it was my pleasure.” Tom says, holding your hand as you balance on one foot to maneuver the heel off the other. You sigh pleasantly when your aching feet hit the cool marble floor, a slight shiver running through you.

“Well, the pleasure was all mine.” You say with a giggle, letting go of his hand and walking towards the bedroom. “I’m exhausted; I still can’t believe how many people were out on Christmas Eve! You’d think they’d have better places to be.” You call from your bedroom, beginning to unfasten one of your pearl earrings and setting it on the dresser. You hear Tom laugh from the other room.

“It’s hardly even eleven, darling, I think you’re getting old.”

You scoff, a small smile playing at your lips. “Well that’s just rude.” You call out, unfastening the other earring and setting it down next to the other.

“I’m sorry,” Tom says softly, now appearing at your bedroom door and leaning against the frame. You can’t help but stare at the way his blue suit clung to him in all the right places; most men looked attractive in a suit, yes, but Tom in a suit was a whole other story. You were pretty sure the suit designers themselves didn’t mean for it to fit that well. “Come with me before you change.” He holds his hand out, waiting for you to grasp it.

“What do you have going on in that handsome head of yours, Hiddleston?” You ask skeptically, walking towards him but not taking his hand just yet.

Tom’s beautiful blue eyes pierce yours so fiercely; you momentarily find it hard to breathe. You would think that after all these years with him you would be used to him looking at you like that, yet still you found yourself getting lost in his eyes repeatedly.

“Nothing serious, just follow me. You‘re not going to keep a man waiting, are you?” He motioned towards you with his hand and finally you grasp it, following him as he lead you back into the living room.

The living room was a sight for sore eyes, and you can’t help the small gasp that escapes your lips as your eyes wander across the room. The only light was that of the moonlight peering through the windows, as well as the candles he had lit and spread throughout the room while you were in the bedroom taking off your jewelry. Soft, slow music emanated through the house from the old record player, which Tom only pulled out for special occasions.

“You like?” Tom asks from behind you, mouth hovering next to your ear, his voice just above a whisper.

“I love.” You breathe, taking in the vaulted ceilings (which seemed so tall, even with the eight-foot Christmas tree Tom insisted on chopping down a few weeks ago) and the lone vase of red roses, which sat on the coffee table. “When did you even have time to get these?” You ask, but Tom doesn’t answer, instead he merely chuckles and pulls you towards the center of the living room, his hand still grasping yours.

“Dance with me,” He says in a low voice, his eyes never leaving yours. You smile, allowing him to pull your body gently into his as he easily leads you in slow circles. He places your right hand, still clasped in his, just over his heart as his arm firmly grips you just beneath your waist, holding you close to him as his body leads the both of you slowly.

You wrap your left arm around over his right, letting your face rest gently in the crook of his neck, allowing yourself to be consumed with the blissful, calm happiness you often felt in your heart whenever it was just the two of you, enjoying each other like this. His chin rested gently on top of your head, humming along to the music softly. Though you felt safe and calm in his arms, dancing like this, you couldn’t help but feel your heart pounding against your chest, sure that Tom could hear it despite the music.

After a few minutes, Tom kisses the side of your temple, resting his face next to yours. “Marry me.” You hear him say – though it’s quiet and shaky, and you’re not sure that you even heard him correctly.

You giggle a little, trying to play it off. “Quit messing around, Tom.” You say, pushing against him gently.

“I’m not joking,” He says, stronger this time. He pulls away from you slightly, no longer swaying. He lifts your chin up with one finger, bringing your eyes up to meet his. “Marry me.” He states again, searching for an answer within your bright eyes.

Even though your palms feel sweaty, knees are weak at the question; you can’t help the sarcastic comment that comes to mind first: “Have you even thought about this? Do you even have a - ”

Before you can finish, Tom pulls out a small velvet black box, showing it to you.

“…Ring.” You finish lamely, as Tom bends down on one knee, opening the box and taking your left hand in his. He easily flips open the lid to the velvet box, revealing a beautiful ring, featuring a full circle of dazzling bead-set diamonds that elegantly showcased the large, sparkling center diamond. You couldn’t take your eyes off the way it sparkled in the moonlight.

“Y/N, these past few years with you have been unparalleled. This is going to sound so cliché, but it must be a cliché for a reason because it’s so true – I never knew the true meaning of happiness until I met you. It’s like I’ve been walking around in a fog my whole life and then when I met you, it suddenly cleared. Darling, you make me the happiest man on Earth without even trying. Your sarcastic wit,” You chuckled as tears began rolling down your face slowly at his words, “Your ability to cry at any given moment,” Tom grinned and you laughed, shaking your head, “The way your nose scrunches up at me when you scowl at something I’ve said, or how impatient you are with me when I’m deep in a book or play. Everything that you do…” Tom trailed off shaking his head, and when he looks back up at you, you can see tears welling at the corner of his eyes. “I’ll quit babbling now,” He says, smiling. “And instead ask you what I’ve been trying to ask all along. Y/F/N, will you make the happiest man on this Christmas Eve, and say yes to marrying me?”

Without hesitation, you nod, wiping some of the tears that were still falling insistently down your face. “Yes!” You say, though it comes out as more of a squeak.

Tom grins, easily sliding the gorgeous diamond onto your finger and standing, pulling you by the hand he was still holding and into a hug, gently lifting your feet off the ground as he spun you in circles.

“I love it.” You say breathlessly as he set you down, admiring the massive rock on your finger.

“And I love you.” Tom replied, kissing your forehead as he kept his arms around you.

“I love you, too.” You respond, reaching up to find his warm lips for a soft kiss. You wrapped your right hand around his neck, pulling him closer towards you, letting the smell of Tom, the candles, and roses fill your senses.

“You taste salty,” Tom teased when he pulled away for air, referring to the constant stream of tears that had been falling down your face since he first got down on one knee.

“Don’t ruin the moment.” You glared, whacking his chest playfully. Tom laughed in response, kissing each slightly wet cheek once.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, darling.” He murmured against your skin. 

“You know, you’re going to have a hard time ever beating this Christmas Eve in the future.” You say, eyes still admiring the beautiful ring that adorned your finger.

Tom chuckled again, “Eh, we’ll think of something to make up for it. A few kids, perhaps.” He teased, and before you can say anything he’s picked you up bridal-style and is carrying you towards the bedroom, intent on making love to his fiancé all through the night.

Fin.

Tag List: @markusstraya, @punkin-pie-mofo, @hazohazahazbro, @irishprincess9, @jedionironthrone, @aclutteredheadspace, @proud-of-being-me, @disneymarina, @dolangram, @nightcrawler0213, @thejemersoninferno, @xlemon-limex, @sadsmilesforstyles, @sleepylunarwolf, @tomssweetbouquet, @thehotstrangeryoullneverseeagain. @unfortunatelyymuggle.

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