#Grinch hat back on | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mandalhoerian · 26 days ago

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(3) 🦭 signed, sealed, delivery pending...

The seal you rescued coming back to the same cove might be momentary serendipity meant to be wow-ed at from afar like one does a documentary, but you're determined to take it as an opportunity of a lifetime to gain his trust and prove yourself as a Disney princess. He's going to become your friend. Period.

genre: fluff, comedy | word count: 6K | read on ao3

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note: i need you guys to see this to visualize what the reader does when the grinch gets mentioned. i almost burst my appendix laughing at it idc if its not funny. please enjoy!!!!

You almost get grounded. For till college.

But being the center of attention in your friend group and the story of a wound that will leave the coolest scar are totally worth the perma ticket booth sentence (jail).

It's not all that bad. It's just that, instead of loading cargo or directing people or helping out the passengers, you got sentenced to boredom, stuck behind a window, taking payment and handing out change and never allowed to leave. Plus, everyone knows you. Which means that no, the ticket master metaphorically posing with a Yu-Gi-Oh duel disk can't give discounts to the old lady who brings you a crocheted hat, or to the fisherman who promises to bring a fresh catch of mackerel to your family's kitchen, or to the little girl who wants to go see the seals, has no cash and can only pay with a bag of homemade cookies...

Speaking of seals, you go back to that beach, a week after the incident when your grounding is more flexible.

But of course, there's no trace of that adorable rascal. You feel a little sad, a little disappointed, a little under the influence of the magical encounter that had you daydreaming you could be Snow White. Then again, you wouldn't want him to hang around in fishing areas. You hope he's doing alright, somewhere, hopefully, not getting caught in nets anymore.

Elias tells you that the seal colony on the islet has forms during breeding and pupping season each year during late spring and early summer, and when he hears you recounting the event and describing the seal, you find out that the one you saved is not one of them.

Apparently, pups are tiny. The one you rescued was either a juvenile or a sub-adult, though the gender is still unclear. You're a little stunned, having expected to have rescued a baby, not an adolescent. Elias explains how the rookery is a nursery area, and females tend to congregate there to give birth. Male seals are territorial and competitive, and often live in the surrounding waters. So maybe that seal was a male weaned off of the same rookery. If you had saved a female, the chances of ever seeing her again would have been higher, since they return to the same rookeries and stay there for a couple months. Males, on the other hand...

Well, at the end of the day, he's probably long gone.

Wrong.

You eventually encounter him on the same small cove the following week. In broad daylight this time.

Dad has hired a couple of staff members to help out, so you have a lot more free time to enjoy your friends and explore the archipelago. Despite the time restrictions. So, even though going back to where you met the seal for the first time was born out of hope to see him again at first, it's also about conveniennce with how close it is to home unironically, and therefore, not violating curfew rules.

So, it's just another day with your picnic basket and beach towel, heading out to the shore in your shorty wetsuit. You have a novel to finish, some music to listen to, snacks to munch on, and the promise of long-awaited solitude to savor.

You've just set up your blanket and opened the book when a loud bark scares the shit out of you.

Startled, you whip around to find the source of the sound — and gasp as a large, gray shape emerges from the water, lumbering towards you with clumsy bounces that echo with the 'boing, boing, boing' sound effect in your head, dragging its blubbery body across the sand and stopping at the edge of your blanket.

You can't quite comprehend what's happening right now, transfixed by the cute, pink tongue peeking out of its mouth as it tries to catch its breath.

It's the exact same seal from before, his familiar markings and the faint scars of the netting you untangled him from unmistakable.

The same seal that was supposed to have swam away to freedom. The same seal that's supposed to be a wild, feral, unpredictable animal is here, looking at you, waiting for something, making an occasional huff and snuffle the more you stay unresponsive.

You're frozen in place, unable to react, mind racing, trying to make sense of the situation. A part of you wonders if this is a dream, but the gritty sensation of the sand in your flippers that reminds you of your discomfort and the warm rays of the sun on your skin assure you otherwise.

Finally, the seal seems to grow impatient and shuffles closer, nuzzling his whiskered nose against your knee, the gesture somehow both gentle and insistent, coaxing you to react. His fur is damp and cool, and you swear his dark, round, limpid black eyes are staring straight into your soul, a knowing intelligence lurking within his soft, expressive depths.

"There's no way," you gawk, not knowing where to put your hands and they flail for a couple seconds in excitement.

He's approached you willingly, showing no signs of distress or aggression, and in fact, he seems oddly not on guard. He's not a pup, and yet he's displaying behavior that's more suited to domesticated dogs, not a marine mammal that's supposed to avoid humans. Seals are curious creatures by nature, and encounters with people aren't unheard of, but this level of familiarity is unusual considering the traumatic circumstances under which the two of you initially met.

"Hello, hi, oh my god, hi, hello???" You try cautiously, not daring to reach out and touch him, but keeping your tone soothing and welcoming. You're actually going to scare him off if you let out the squeals roaring inside. "How are you doing, buddy? Is that really you?"

The seal's whiskers twitch in response to the sound of your words, his head cocked to one side in a manner that suggests attentive listening. It's almost as if he recognizes your presence, and that thought sends a shivery thrill through you.

"You remember me?" you ask, a tentative smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. Your heart leaps as his head waves up and down. You choose to take that gesture as a yes instead of the air sniffing to vibe-check you that it actually is. "That's so sweet of you!"

A low, rumbling noise reverberates from deep within the seal's nose, and you can't help the giggle that escapes you. It sounds like a cross between a snort and a grumble, a strangely endearing combination that's distinctly his own.

"I'm not sure what to make of this," you continue, feeling more at ease in his company, despite the absurdity of the situation. "What are you doing here? Saw me and wanted to hang out?"

His only answer is a single, melodious yowl, followed by a series of chirps that resemble the playful squeaks of a dolphin. You can't help the warmth that spreads through you at the sound, a sudden fondness for the strange, gentle creature washing over you as he flops closer to lie just beside your blanket like you two are friends sitting next to each other, rolling onto his belly and stretching his front flippers in a leisurely, cat-like stretch. You're not a trained zoologist, but his behavior is clearly indicative of trust, and that's enough to convince you that the connection you feel isn't imagined. This is the most peculiar, wonderful surprise you've ever had. And the best part is that, in the middle of a summer vacation that had been filled with ups and downs, you have made an unlikely friend...

Oh, he's actually sunbathing. With you.

And his coat looks healthy. That's good.

The way his head looks when he closes his eyes... Like a content bean, a happy, satisfied little guy. So cute.

God, you can't pet him.

The seal expert in the island is Elias, who works with the conservation team on the rookery islet. Maybe someday, if things come to that, he could guide you, but for now, you're not risking harming him in any way. Especially not after rescuing him from a near-death experience.

He opens his eyes when he hears scratching. Particularly, you scratching along the seams of the bandages on your forearm. You haven't realized you had been unconsciously picking on them because of the itch till the moment the seal's penetrating stare burns on the area. How peculiar. He seems to possess object permanence regarding the injury and understand the concept of wounds, or at least the effects of them. Or are you delusional?

"Curious, huh," you say, pulling your hand back and flexing the muscles in the arm to relieve some of the irritation. "You remember this as well? It's your love bite, bud."

The seal makes a soft, inquisitive grunt, and then begins to inch his way across the sand to make it back to the sea, and a disappointment that makes your face fall down settles upon you at the prospect of him leaving already.

"Oh..." you mumble. "Leaving so soon?"

But the seal doesn't seem to be departing. Instead, he dives gracefully beneath the surface of the water, disappearing from view. Confused but intrigued, you remain seated, watching the rippling waves with bated breath. After several long, anxious moments, a silvery fish bursts forth from the depths, thrashing wildly in the seal's jaws. He bites down fiercely, severing the life of the fish in an instant and sending a spurt of blood into the salty brine. Then, he swims back to shore and boing-boing-boings over to deposit the lifeless prey at your feet, his tail slapping eagerly against the wet ground, dark, round, expressive wet eyes shining bright with pride and excitement.

It's a gift. You're certain of that. A token of gratitude, perhaps, or a symbol of camaraderie.

"Oh, thank you," you say, genuinely touched by the gesture. "You're such a gentleman. But I'm not hungry, so... Actually, do you want to share it together? Would that be okay?" You pause, studying the seal's reactions carefully. "Yeah, that's what we're doing."

With that, you reach for the fish, its cold, slippery scales slick against your palm, and break it in half with a fruit knife you brought along in your picnic basket, setting one portion aside and offering the other to the seal. He sniffs at the proffered meal, whiskers quivering, before opening his mouth to accept it. You watch in fascination as his powerful teeth tear into the flesh, marveling at the delicate balance of predator and companion that exists between the two of you. There's something about sharing a meal with a wild animal who caught it for you in the first place, that feels sacred. Ancient, and special.

"You know what, you can have my half, I’m really full," you concede, not being able to resist his eager gluttony. You decide to share with him since he shared with you, as well. "Sorry if I'm not much of a huntress, but here's a little treat that'll blow your mind. Hopefully." You start rummaging through your belongings, searching the contents of the basket. "Let's see, let's see... Aha! Here it is!"

When you turn around, you nearly jump out of your skin to find the seal right there behind you, looking at the basket curiously. He seems very interested in the container. Maybe he's figured out it contains food, somehow. Could seals smell through a plastic lid?

"Woah, woah, hey, easy," you murmur softly, reaching up to gently boop him on the nose and watch in fascination as his entire head disappears by sinking into his body at the contact.

Oh!

Oh no.

You're going to die. Cuteness overload. Right here, in front of him, and on this day. It's like his skull has disappeared and his blubbery neck absorbed his face into his torso. If the purpose is to protect himself from predators, that's not the vibe the gesture is giving. At all.

Holding the container of sashimi, you let him take a peek at the contents. When his nose starts wiggling and his tail starts flapping, you can't help the grin that breaks out. He seems to have understood that whatever is inside is edible, and his eagerness is infectious, sending a jolt of glee and satisfaction coursing through you at the thought of providing him with a new experience.

"Look, look, this is called sashimi," you explain, selecting a small piece of raw salmon and holding it out on your palm. The seal sniffs at the morsel tentatively, his nostrils flaring, before he darts his tongue out and wraps it around the slice of fish, pulling it into his mouth.

He's so gentle with it too, not even nipping at the flesh of the hand that's feeding him. Just a soft, light brush of his tongue, and a content, satisfied swallow, and the taste must have been to his liking, because he emits a low, throaty squeak of pleasure, a sound that sends a warm, fuzzy feeling fluttering through your chest. Has he been socialized at some point in the past to know how to take food from humans, maybe by fishermen or tourists? Is he simply a naturally affectionate creature? You fully expected him to be more cautious around humans given his recent trauma, and yet, here he is, demonstrating an openness that defies all expectations and assumptions.

"Well, you've got good taste," you remark with a chuckle, watching as his tail thumps excitedly on the sand, signaling for another serving. The sight of him making a 'begging' pose in the most literal sense melting your heart. "Fine, you can have it all. But only because you're so charming."

One by one, you feed the remaining pieces of sashimi to him, fascinated by the feel of his smooth, pink velvety tongue against your fingertips each time he accepts a bite one would being licked by a cat or a dog. His enthusiasm is contagious, and you can't help the laughter that bubbles up in your own throat, a bright, sparkling sound that rings across the deserted stretch of coastline and makes him perk up and look up at you, head tilted in curiosity, a sort of startled, wide-eyed, puppy-dog stare.

"Aw, sorry," you apologize, realizing that the volume of your laughter might have overwhelmed him. "I'm just happy. Happy to be here, with you. This is the best beach date I've ever had."

You watch, in real time, as the seal sputters from his nose, the recoil of his jiggling body rocking him backward and to the side as he avoids eye contact in a manner that parallels dogs when they’re being recorded, and finally decides to completely flee back to the sea.

You blink, speechless, trying to figure out what you did wrong.

"...Was my laugh that ugly?"

You are convinced this is a good idea.

You’ve seen the TikToks. You know the method. You’ve watched professionals do this with thousand-pound animals that could kick them into the next dimension, and it works.

And sure, your friend is technically a seal and not a horse, but the principle is the same. Desensitization. You introduce scary things in a safe, controlled way, and boom — no more spooky, jumpy reactions.

It’s foolproof.

If it has to be something like doing crazy dances with a plastic bag or throwing a duvet over their heads to trigger less anxiety, then so be it. There is logic and science behind this method, even though it requires you to humiliate yourself in front of a wild animal and hope that there isn't a secret camera hidden somewhere recording you acting like a clown and saving the clip online to become meme fuel.

"Alright, bud," you announce, stretching your arms like a coach psyching up a particularly useless team. "Today's the day."

If you expect anything resembling acknowledgment, the seal gives none; instead, he seems content to continue nibbling delicately at a lump of kelp, ignoring you completely while reclining on his side like a Victorian noblewoman on a fainting couch atop a sun-baked rock. His sleek gray coat glistens brightly as he sprawls across the stone, flippers twitching lazily as his attention wanders in search of tasty tidbits amongst the fronds of green algae still trailing from his mouth.

Seeing him this relaxed sends a wave of relief through you. Your relationship has improved exponentially since that first day the two of you officially met. He's grown noticeably more accustomed to interacting with you without showing any signs of fear or discomfort. You're no longer regarded with suspicion or alarm whenever you approach — instead, he welcomes you, greeting your presence with cheerful squeaks and soft snorts that always send warm fuzzies flying all across your cheeks. Not that you keep score, but lately, he's been initiating more interactions than before, nudging you with his nose, pawing gently at your leg to draw your attention, even resting beside you whenever he gets the chance, seeking comfort in your closeness in ways that leave you giddy with happiness.

"AAAA!" you shout, stretching your arms in a T-pose to make yourself look bigger.

The seal violently flops to the side, rolling down the small incline of the surrounding rocks like a giant, damp potato.

"Oh my god!" You rush to help him with choked laughter, kneeling at his side while he struggles to get his balance and reclines up on his flippers.

He shoots you the ugliest death glare.

"I'm sorry," you say, forcing your lips into a thin line to hold back your smile. "Was I too scary?"

The seal huffs sharply in response, causing a few loose strands of hair to fall over your face from the wind. Then he reaches his head forward, and slowly, deliberately, rubs his cheek against your bandaged forearm before flopping back down. It takes you several seconds to recover from the attack of cuteness, by which time the seal has rolled around again in the direction opposite of you so that only his round, puffy butt faces toward where you kneel in the sand.

Pouting. Definitely pouting. It's so adorable, did he get embarrassed? Ahhhhh!

You spend the next few minutes running around the seal and making unexpected movements like a drunk ostrich on sugar rush just to see how he'd react, following that up with a sorcerer in the middle of a magic attack combo with flicking jazz hands right to his face, then re-enacting that one scene from How the Grinch Stole Christmas in which the titular character tries to scare of Cindy Lou by barking at her face acting crazy in a little step forward-and-back dance with claw-hands, looking like you were about to attack him but faking him out at the last second.

Needless to say, you get nothing other than keen interest like you were a jester and he was the king sitting in the audience taking great pleasure in your performance, full-on radiating medieval royalty urge to always have entertainment while eating.

You decide to change tactics. Step one: Introduce the Object.

From your backpack, you pull out a bright blue towel and give it a dramatic shake.

“See this?” You wave it like a deranged matador. “It’s just a towel. Harmless. Normal. Not scary.”

His whiskers twitch. His head tilts slightly, like you’ve just shown him a complex tax form.

You wave it again, closer this time. “Ooooooo, look, it moooves. It flaps. It’s just fabric.”

Still no reaction.

Encouraged, you take a step closer, still waving the towel like you’re trying to summon a demon. “See? It’s fine. Totally normal. You don’t have to be scared.”

The seal makes a noise — something between a huff and a chirp.

Then he snorts.

You freeze.

Did… did this seal just laugh at you?

No. That’s ridiculous. Animals don’t laugh. You’re being paranoid.

Step Two: Make Contact.

“I’m just gonna touch you with it a little, okay?” you say in your best soothing horse-trainer voice.

He does not, in fact, agree to this.

But he also doesn’t move away as you gently drape the towel over his back.

Success!

Or at least, it is success, right up until you start rubbing the towel over him like you’ve seen in the videos, mimicking the slow, rhythmic motions that are supposed to be calming.

“Good boy,” you murmur, nodding approvingly. “See? Nothing to be scared of. Just a towel. A friendly, normal—”

The seal erupts.

One second, he’s still. The next, his entire body vibrates like a malfunctioning washing machine.

Then — he flops.

Not just any flop. A dramatic, full-body collapse into the sand, legs flailing, his head rolling back in what you can only describe as unhinged, wheezing laughter.

You just stand there, gripping the towel, watching this damn seal lose his mind.

He keeps snorting. His non-existent shoulders shake. He slaps the sand with one flipper, no different than an old man gasping for air between belly laughs.

You recoil. “Am I being fucking laughed at by a seal right now? Nah. Naaaah, that can't be.”

He lets out an actual honking noise.

Your face burns. “I am trying to help you, you little sea rat!”

A loud, loud crying. More slapping.

He is mocking you. This has to be mocking. Or is it that your own self-consciousness has finally manifested in the world and acquired a shape? Maybe that's why this feels like teasing; maybe you're projecting.

With a defeated sigh, you plop onto the sand beside him, still gripping the towel like it holds the last shreds of your dignity.

Well, at least you found out he is desensitized, alright. A win is a win.

The following weeks, the island's weather grows warmer. And, with the rising temperature, the seal's visits become more and more frequent, almost daily, until his company becomes a constant fixture of your free time.

It's a bizarre, inexplicable relationship that defies all reason and logic — that a seal would hop on land to come visit instead of being encountered while swimming. A wild marine mammal that should fear and distrust humans has decided to form a bond with you, seeking your presence out of his own accord, and showing an intelligence that goes beyond instinctual behavior.

At least, that's what you're inclined to believe. You're no expert. Just an observer of this delightful, unexpected friendship that has bloomed between the two of you.

You're not sure what draws him to the tiny, secluded cove where you've been meeting him, nor do you understand why he chooses to stay on the shore with you, sunbathing on the warm sands and indulging in the snacks and treats you bring him, rather than returning to the open ocean. But every time you arrive, he's there, waiting, a large, lumbering shape that barks and squeaks upon seeing you, waddling over to greet you as though you're an old friend.

His trust is a precious thing, a fragile, irreplaceable treasure that you cherish dearly. And, in return, he shows a level of affection that would put many a domestic animal to shame.

He nuzzles against your legs, rolls over to reveal his belly, and even allows you to touch and stroke the soft, supple fur on his head sometimes if he feels like it that day. It's a privilege, a gift, and you're acutely aware of the responsibility that comes with such intimacy. You handle him gently, cautiously, mindful of his comfort and well-being, and never pushing past the limits of his tolerance or patience.

You learn to read his cues, to recognize the signs of contentment and discomfort in his posture and vocalizations. When he's relaxed, his body language is loose, his limbs splayed out on the ground in a lazy, sprawling manner that suggests a deep, boneless ease. He grunts and chirps in a low, rhythmic cadence that seems to express his pleasure and satisfaction, and the sound is oddly soothing, a gentle, melodic counterpoint to the steady, pulsing rush of the waves crashing nearby. Snorts and snuffles are indicators of inquisitiveness and curiosity, while a high-pitched whistle signals excitement and happiness, often accompanied by an enthusiastic wagging of his tail that resembles the motion of a dog's. When he's upset or nervous, his entire body stiffens and he pulls away from your touch, a clear signal to give him space and respect his boundaries.

You're proud to say you haven't discovered his anger yet, but the day you walk in on a tourist group in your cove becomes the answer to your question.

This isn't the rookery. There are no guides or rangers to keep everyone in check. These tourists are on their own, exploring, and they have stumbled upon the wrong spot. They're being stupid, and the worst part is that they're not even breaking the law. The fact that the seal is in the water is enough not to be trespassing, and therefore, not punishable.

As you approach the crowd gathering around a particular spot, your heart clenches at the sight of your friend cornered into a small cave, no — more like a fissure in the rock formations that surround the cove, that reaches just ten meters from the shore.

These guys want a picture with the seal, which has gone hostile obvious from his jaw making snapping motions and is trying to dive back into the sea as far from them as possible.

It's all because he was waiting for you here.

There's nothing you can do other than run towards them. And maybe distract them by waving your arms frantically and screaming, "What the hell are you doing?! Didn't you see the sign that says this area is private?!"

You know lecturing them about how they're causing distress to the animal is futile, so, Karen-mode it is.

Surprisingly, it works, and they run off. But not before complaining and whining about how "there's no fucking harm in this".

Sure, asshole. There’s no harm in distressing the poor seal that shows obvious signs of wanting to be left alone.

After taking care of them (read: screaming at them) and calling Elias to come get rid of them, you rush back to the beach to make sure your seal is okay.

He won't look at you.

If there's anything you learned the hard way is that a wild animal never acts erratically without reason, whether it be a bird pecking insistently at a window or a rabbit darting across the road when you least expect it. So it stands to reason that if your companion completely ignores you as he makes it out of the cave and makes a beeline towards the sea, he must have a valid cause for doing so.

Maybe you were too close to these strangers, maybe your intimidation and aggression were too much for him.

You hope he knows you'd never put him in danger willingly.

"Wait," you call out after him, raising your hand above your head to attract his attention and willing your frantic heartbeat to settle back down into a normal rhythm. You don't want to frighten him further by shouting or running up behind him, chasing him down — the last thing you need is to scare him off altogether after working so hard to gain his trust.

To your amazement, he actually pauses, hovering midway between the cave and the water, hesitating, glancing warily back at you over his shoulder. It's eerie sometimes that he reacts how a human would, but also quite remarkable. You're positive it means he understands you, that your interactions carry meaning for him.

But now that he's stopped, you don't know what to say. Hey, sorry some jerks scared the shit out of you. I don't know them. Please don't think I lured them here to you.

Why would you have this conversation with a seal?

So, you walk up slowly to the spot where he still stands, and then sit down crosslegged next to him on the sandy rocks that divide land from sea, trying to appear nonthreatening and reassuring in equal measure. For several long, excruciating moments, the only sounds are the distant cries of seagulls overhead, the restless rustle of the surf rushing back and forth against the shore, and your own breathing growing faster the longer the silence stretches on.

He allows you to remain there, and doesn't delve back into the waters either, so that's something. You still have his trust. You could also cry about still having his trust. What a wonderful being.

"I'm sorry," you offer tentatively, hoping that the note of sorrow ringing through your words will convey the depth of regret behind those two simple syllables. "They weren't supposed to come here."

His round, wet nose twitches rapidly, whiskers bobbing with every flicker and flutter, his sleek, blubbery body shifting subtly from side to side. His tail slaps the sand in a frenzy, kicking up sprays of loose soil and scattering fragments of seashells in all directions. "Gegh!" he screams all of a sudden, making you jump. "Ggighphh!"

"Okay, I hear you," you reassure him hastily. "Next time I'll yell at them harder."

"Gyeeaaagh..."

"Uh huh, that's better. I hear you."

"Greph, l'egg!"

"Do you forgive me?"

"Miphhh."

"Oh, you’re so sweet…”

A week passes before you try to meet him again, giving him ample time to recover.

He never reappeared when you came by alone to the cove after your usual duties ended — you began wondering if maybe the incident left him traumatized, too sensitive to want to risk further confrontation — but there's a sense of relief in knowing that he hasn't abandoned you entirely.

When you step onto the beach one morning, bright and early before the sun has fully risen above the horizon, his dark shape emerges from the waves to greet you once more, shambling awkwardly across the pebbles as though eager to confirm your presence, and your heart absolutely leaps at seeing him back.

Something about this meeting feels different than before, there's a rush in his mannerisms that wasn't there previously, and as he approaches, you notice his head is uncharacteristically held low. It reminds you of a child who has something important to say but doesn't know how, or dare, to begin talking.

He stops just a few feet away from where you're standing, staring resolutely at the ground instead of maintaining direct visual contact, and remains completely silent save for an occasional chirrup that seems directed inward more than toward you.

"Hey, buddy," you begin softly, afraid to disturb the quiet. "How've you been? Long time no see. Missed ya, little rascal."

He explodes with an accusing, "Ya!" and smacks his front flipper on the sand as punctuation. The sneeze that follows is rough. "Hphaaa — mmphm..."

"Ohhkay, wow, someone sure is pissed today," you raise a brow.

He doesn't like that.

And for the first time, you witness a temper tantrum from him.

He barks loudly, tail flapping and nostrils flaring in frustration as he tosses himself back and forth across the sands, flopping wildly, kicking his finned tail and letting out shrill cries of outrage whenever you start approaching closer. Even as you stand a safe distance away, he continues to glare balefully up at you, snuffling and squealing disapprovingly as though offended that you're even present during such an intense bout of sulking.

Witnessing the rare display of bad humor has your shoulders shaking uncontrollably in fits of giggles despite the fact that he's acting irrationally, which is kind of rude from your end because obviously it can't be funny from his. But when you manage to contain yourself and regain some semblance of composure, you notice that his dramatic display has evolved into something more reminiscent of theatrics of an overgrown puppy trying its hardest to prove its ferociously cute point, and not the primordial rage fit that you thought initially. His face is scrunched up as if stuck halfway between a yawn and a grimace; his eyelids squeezed tightly shut while his mouth gapes wide open, showing off rows of sharp, deadly teeth and pink gums.

It's such a hilarious sight, such a ridiculous pose, that before you know what you're doing, you're reaching down to tickle under his chin lightly — unable to quench down your need to pet and coo at him despite his obvious agitation — and surprise surprise, instead of biting off your entire arm clean off, he goes still beneath your fingers for a moment.

"Oh you're such a cute baby boy. Cute, silly baby. You've got anger issues, mister, huh? Yes, yes, yes, who's the toughest seal ever, huh? Who's the cutest, most adorable seal in the whole wide world?"

To your amazement, he lets you do it, humming softly in response to the gentle rubs and pats, his body relaxing under your ministrations until eventually he closes his eyelids altogether and allows you to continue petting him without interruption or complaint, emitting low growls of contentment in place of displeasure.

"Aw... You missed me that much? Don't worry, I'm not gonna leave ever again unless you ask." Getting to pet him — ever, for the matter — wasn't exactly something planned, so you were bending at the waist, but the way this is going smoothly, you end up sitting down to keep doing it. You smile fondly at the way his gray, dry fur (which indicates he's been on land for a good while) bristles outward beneath your fingertips. "Beautiful, beautiful baby boy. So handsome! Yup, yup, yup..."

Suddenly, his whole body goes rigid.

Then, abruptly, without warning, he moves like a missle, rolling himself onto his side so that he's facing you directly, twisting his torso toward you with unexpected agility, and rests the topmost part of his torso against yours, nuzzling his head along your neck gently. With a start, you realize what he's attempting to do: hug you.

As soon as you comprehend the significance of what is happening, you throw your arms around his broad, muscular form in return and lean forward instinctively, returning the embrace eagerly despite the awkwardness of the angle due to his size relative to your own physique.

"Ghiilaghiiii," he drawls out, the vibrations rumbling deeply inside of him resonating throughout your body in waves until they reach every corner of your being and gets you almost dizzy with elation. "Phyaaaaaaggghhieeeeeehgllll..."

Is it normal to be in tears after such an action? Because here you go. This seal has missed you, wanted a hug and made sure to deliver. How wonderful life is.

"I missed you more, you lovely angel. Thank you for wanting my company still," you sniffle happily into his fluffy coat, inhaling the musky scent of saltwater mixed with fresh sea spray that surrounds him like an invisible cloud. He should smell like fish or algae, but weirdly, he smells nice. And clean. How does a mammal even manage to get this fragrant when living in water? It shouldn't make any sense whatsoever, especially considering how much time he spends in the surf each day yet manages not to get sticky or covered in crusty buildups of dried plankton like most seals tend to develop after spending prolonged periods submerged undersea. "I'm so happy you don't hate me and decided to stay. I thought I had scared you away forever..."

He makes a sound like blowing raspberry at you, whacking his nose against your collarbone roughly enough that you wince inwardly but refrain from complaining aloud, not wishing to discourage him from enjoying the contact.

"Can I stroke you right here as well?"

You know he knows what's going on because he gives an approving hoot at your inquiry, tilting his head upwards against yours momentarily before resting it back atop your collarbones, letting loose a series of joyful chittering noises that sound distinctly like laughter. If nothing else convinces you of his intelligence then this certainly does the trick. An ordinary wild animal wouldn't react in such an interactive way nor would it care enough about interacting with another species unless desperate or curious, yet he has chosen to engage with you consistently since the two of you met all those weeks ago.

"Who is a good little cutie pie? Who is my gorgeous little sweetheart?"

This is probably getting overboard, but he clearly enjoys it based upon how excitedly he flops about while getting fussed over, his long tail beating happily against the sand each time you speak praise unto him in the rythym of your pets. Clearly delighted by this sudden affectionate assault, he bounces and chirrups playfully whenever you pause between complimenting him, eager to receive attention regardless if he comprehends fully the meaning behind it.

Eventually, though, things become less amusing for you due to the amount of strength needed for you to maintain both the position as well as support his huge head (noticing it was very dense and surprisingly heavier than it looked), forcing you to eventually call timeout.

However, before letting him free completely from the hug, you decide to give him a kiss on the nose that instantly turns your insides into mush as you see him close his giant, round, glistening black eyes for a fraction of second like a cat would before blinking them open again, gazing deeply straight into yours and holding your stare.

And proceeds to sneeze directly into your face.

"Thanks. Now we're officially best friends," you proclaim solemnly while wiping spit off your face.

You name him Raf.

You're not entirely sure how you came up with the name, to be honest. Maybe you overheard a tourist saying a variation of 'Raf' or 'Rat' or something similar and subconsciously picked it up from there? Who knows? The only thing you remember is that one moment you were teasing him about naming him 'Crybaby' -- 'BB' for short, and the next you hear yourself muttering 'Raf' out loud like something within your brain clicked. Like it was whispered right into your ear.

When you said it aloud for the first time, Raf perked up so intensely that you realized instantly the name was perfect for him. There was no doubt whatsoever — this was his name. A fitting, powerful one for such a gentle spirit that just happens to sound like a person's name.

But of course, when asked, you say it's short for riff-raff.

#love and deepspace #rafayel x reader #rafayel x you #rafayel fluff #rafayel #lads rafayel x reader #lads rafayel x you #l&ds rafayel x reader #lnds rafayel x reader #lads rafayel #l&ds rafayel #lnds rafayel #lads #lnds #l&ds #qi yu #rafayel qi #qi yu x reader

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satoruxx · 1 year ago

Text

pairing: toji fushiguro x f!reader summary: toji being a grinch lmao, grumpy x sunshine again, fluff, bickering rheya’s note: man i bet toji pretends to hate decorating for christmas but does it anyway bc he can’t say no to you! UGH he makes me !! i couldn’t stop thinking about bf!toji so here’s this silly little drabble. merry christmas everyone <33

“you serious?”

“yup.”

toji crosses his arms with a scowl, and you mirror his stance with narrowed eyes.

“it’s stupid,” he grunts, reaching out to gently push his palm against your forehead—which earns him a dramatic groan.

“it is not.” you grab his bicep and he lets you drag him over to the tree you’ve set up in the living room. “don’t be an ass.”

he sighs as you place a floppy santa hat on his head and beam at his disgruntled expression. there’s an identical one on you—sliding off your head in all your excitement, and toji has to stop himself from fixing it for you.

you crouch down and throw open a few storage boxes before gesturing somewhat emphatically. “get to work!”

he grumbles, shaking his head even as he goes to pick up a few ornaments. “you’re ridiculous.”

“not very christmas-y of you, toji,” you comment, standing on your toes to hook an ornament. he snorts, eyeing the glitter sticking to his fingertips.

“oh no—i’m the spitting image of joy, can’t you tell?” he replies sarcastically, though his shoulders relax a little as he hears your unfiltered laughter.

toji glances at you, watching as you quietly hum some old christmas song under your breath while filling up the tree with colorful orbs. he’s not sure why you’re so intent on having him be a part of your yearly holiday traditions—he’s never been big on celebrating anyway.

but then he remembers what you had said last year.

“i don’t wanna celebrate anything if you’re not celebrating it with me.”

you’ve always been too good to him.

you scoot a little closer, decorating without a care in the world and toji lets out a quiet breath—decides to be a little annoying because it’s a surefire way to make you smile.

“you mind?” he frowns, huffing with a dramatic sneer. he pins you with a pointed glare before motioning to the tree. “you’re getting in my territory.”

you throw him an appalled look before moving your arm in his face childishly. “what are you gonna do about it?”

an evil smirk makes its way onto his face, and your expression immediately drops. “wait no—“

toji’s bicep curls around your throat, pulling you into a headlock as you squeal and slap at his arm. he spends the next few minutes playfully wrestling with you before finally letting you win and step into his space—stands behind you and watches your fingers gently place ornaments while his hand absentmindedly rubs over your hipbone.

“what do you want for christmas anyway?” you ask offhandedly. toji raises a brow, looking down at you—expressionless.

“thought it was obvious—“ he shrugs, reaching up to hang ornaments on the higher parts of the tree. “all you gotta do is sit under the tree for me and i’ll be happy. bonus points if there’s unwrapping involved.”

you make an expression that has no business looking that scandalized and toji smirks in amusement.

“psycho,” you mutter, shaking your head in mock disapproval—earning a muted chuckle in return. you go back to hanging up ornaments, once again humming to yourself, and toji takes it as a cue to continue decorating. the two of you work in relative silence—an occasional quip or jab the only disturbance. after a while, he crosses his arms.

“are we done yet?” he groans, eyeing the nearly full tree. “i’m tired as fuck.”

“weak,” you grin, though you reach out and pat his chest thankfully. “but you did participate and that’s all i wanted so, yeah, you can be done.”

toji almost laughs in relief, but then he sees you rummage through the boxes and pull out more decorations for the rest of the house, and he sighs.

“alright hand it over,” he grumbles, holding his palm out expectantly. you look at him—half confused and half surprised.

“i thought you were done?”

“yeah right,” he huffs, taking the tinsel from your hands and walking over to the staircase. “you’d end up tangled in this crap if i left you alone with it.”

“you’re so dramatic. and whiny,” you giggle and he rolls his eyes.

“am not.”

despite saying so he quietly huffs as he continues to help you decorate the house with stockings and tinsel and all that other festive stuff.

by the time the house is fully decorated, toji is close to banning the holiday season—grumpy, tired, and ready to move onto something else.

but then, the tiniest part of him is uncharacteristically giddy when you look up at him, holding the star in your hands. toji shakes his head, trying to bite back the amused grin tickling his scarred lips, before sighing and crossing his arms.

“can i help you?” he asks—teasing, though his expression betrays nothing.

you pout, holding the star up dramatically. “the star needs to be put up.”

a smirk graces his face and his tone becomes taunting, yet the affection is not lost on you. “yeah? need a boost, kid?”

even before you nod, toji is crouching in front of you, palms reaching out to guide your legs over his shoulders. you laugh as he stands back up, taking a few steps towards the tree.

he can’t help but chuckle as he watches you lean forward, palm smoothing over your thigh in attempts to stabilize you. “you got it?”

“almost.” he can hear the strain in your voice, can feel the way your fingers twitch against his jaw—but he waits patiently.

“okay got it!” your voice is triumphant, and toji grins to himself.

“attagirl.” his lips brush against your inner thigh—a sweet reward for a job well done. he hears your quiet giggle from above him as you gently push away his dark bangs.

“alright, put me down now,” you huff, and toji bites back a scoff.

“tsk.” he clicks his tongue, though he still lowers himself to let you hop off his shoulders before rising to his full height. “so ungrateful.”

“what do you want, a medal?”

you yelp as toji’s fingers pinch at your side in retaliation. “watch your mouth, kid.”

you flash him a grin full of mischief, though you don’t say anything else. instead you look up at the finished tree, marveling at your handiwork with pride.

“see—” you say with a pointed grin. “—isn’t it pretty?”

toji chuckles, wrapping a heavy bicep around your shoulders and pulling you into his chest. “yeah,” he agrees, green eyes trained on your happy little smile. “it is.”

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xnalux · 4 months ago

Note

I’d love love love pt3 of streamergfvi! You write her so well <3

streamer!vi hcs christmas special

part 1 part 2

warnings: nsfw 18+, fem!reader

pictures are from pinterest and they're not mine

author’s note: I had to rewrite it twice because my shitty computer was acting up so i'm not fully happy about how it turned out but i really hope you like it. merry christmas pretties ♡

streamergfvi: who didn't really care about christmas decorations but found herself following around an hyper excited and bouncy powder,arms full to the brim with boxes, each one threatening to spill over with the glittery treasures it contained

She found herself trying to balance her weight as powder sat on her shoulders in front of the christmas tree hanging the decorations to it.

''pow the tree is gonna fall over if you add another one''

vi groaned wrinkling her nose as she tried to get one of powder's braid out of her face.

''shut up you grinch''

powder just huffed focused on the task of putting the little elf on top of the tree, the younger sibling stretching out trying to reach the highest part of the fir making vi almost lose balance stumbling a little to the side

''stop moving so much!''

''well if you weren't so short...''

''you are shorter than me''

the two bickered as vander stared at them leaning agaist the kitchen's door frame, arms crossed and a fond smile on his face.

streamergfvi: who is incredibly competitive about snowball fights. her and powder have a little feud. their backyard, a canvas of white, is a battleground of strategically placed forts made of snow and colorful winter gear scattered about like the aftermath of a whimsical blizzard.

Their rivalry is legendary, a spectacle that has been the highlight of winter for the past few years. The neighborhood kids gather around the fence, their breaths forming clouds of anticipation as they whisper about the impending clash of the snow titans.

This year, you've decided to join in the fun, throwing your hat into the ring with Powder. You've been watching their snowball battles from the sidelines, sipping on hot cocoa and offering moral support, but the time has come to immerse yourself in the frosty fray.

The moment the fight begins, it's clear that Vi isn't going to go down without a fight. She charges towards you and Powder, her snowball arsenal at the ready. As she hurls the first volley, you both dodge and retaliate, sending your own icy projectiles flying in her direction. The snow crunches under your boots as you run and duck, the cold sting of the snowflakes on your skin only adding to the thrill.

"Hey, pretty''

vi calls out, her voice a mix of teasing and challenge as she aims another perfectly-formed snowball at you.

"You think you can beat me with those little snow pebbles?"

"Oh, this year you are going down, shortie!"

Powder shouts back, her laughter ringing out like a bell in the crisp winter air.

But vi isn't one to be outdone. She takes advantage of your momentary distraction, and before you know it, she's sneaking up on you from behind.

"Gotcha!"

she exclaims as she tackles you to the ground, the impact sending up a cloud of powdery snow that surrounds you both.

You're laughing too hard to protest as she straddles you, her eyes sparkling with joy.

"Surrender, darling,"

she says, her breath warm on your cold cheek as she holds a snowball over your head.

"You know I'm the king of snowfights"

"Never!"

you reply, trying to push her off, your laughter turning into a playful growl. You wiggle and squirm, trying to break free from her firm grip, but she's too strong.

Powder, noticing your plight, hurls a snowball at Vi, which hits her square in the back.

"Cheap shot!" Vi yells, releasing you to retaliate.

This gives you the perfect opportunity to escape her grasp. You jump to your feet, a snowball in hand, and throw it back at her. It hits her right on the forehead, leaving a perfect white imprint.

"Oh, it's on now!"

she says, her eyes lighting up with excitement. She wipes the snow away, her grin unyielding. It ends up with you straddling her lap asking her to ''beg for mercy'' as powder fill her jacket with snow.

streamergfvi who never lose the change to push her hand in the back pocket of your pants even when you are out in public. And when you playfully glare at her she just

"What?" she give your ass a little squeeze feigning innocence.

"It's cold out here!"

"Well, if my pocket is such a warm sanctuary, I might just have to charge rent,"

you tease, giving her a sideways smirk. She rolls her eyes dramatically, but the smile that tugs at the corners of her mouth betrays her feigned annoyance.

"Rent, huh?"

she says, her voice a low purr as she leans closer, her breath ghosting against your cheek.

"What's the going rate for such prime real estate?"

"Oh, I don't know," you muse, playing along.

"Maybe a kiss for every squeeze?"

Her eyes widen for a moment, as if surprised by my boldness, before she laughs heartily, her whole body shaking with the sound.

"Is that a deal, then?"

The crowd bustles around you, a mix of laughter, chatter, and distant car horns.

"Only if you promise to keep your hands to yourself in public,"

you say, though your voice is laden with affection.

Her hand retreats from your pocket, but only to slide around your waist, pulling you closer.

"You drive a hard bargain," she murmurs, her voice dropping to a whisper that only I can hear. "but it's worth it for that ass."

your laughter rings out again, a sound that never fails to make vi smile. She presses her cheek against your shoulder, her arms tightening around me.

"I'll be good," she promises, her breath warm against your neck.

"For now."

streamergfvi: who hates christmas songs but always ends up humming them whenever she gets lost in thoughts. When the two of you are alone, you can't help but laugh at the sight of her mouthing the lyrics. It's like watching a grumpy cat wearing a Santa hat. And when she catches you watching, she'll blush, a little embarrassed.

So, you lean in and whisper,

"You secretly love it,"

and she rolls her eyes

''shut up''

streamergfvi: who never lose the chance whenever the first notes of "All I Want for Christmas is You" waft through the air from some distant holiday playlist and you two are together, to mouths the words "All I want for Christmas is you,", a smug grin on her face as she points at you

streamergfvi: who is addicted to hot chocolate, it gets to the point it's almost concerning, the moment the first snowflake graces the ground, she's in full-on hot cocoa mode. She has collection of mugs that would put Santa's workshop to shame. marshmallows of every shape and size, whipped cream in canisters, and an assortment of chocolate chips that could fill a stocking.

But what she love even more is drinking it with you (she secretly adds more whipped cream to your mug just to make it more difficult for you to drink it without getting some on yourself)

You took a sip, trying to be dainty about it, but the whipped cream was just too tempting. It clung to your upper lip, a sweet little mustache that vi found absolutely adorable. She couldn't help but let out a soft giggle as she set her own mug down and leaned in. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, and her warm breath brushed against your skin as she tenderly licked the whipped cream from your nose. Her smirk widened into a grin, and you felt your cheeks flush.

You decided to play along, you leaned in closer, your sweet breath mingling as you looked at her battling your eyelishes

''thank you baby''

you whispered and you knew you've got her where you wanted by the way her breath hitched and her eyes gazed hungrily at your shiny lips. you let her almost close the gap but as soon as her lips brushed against yours, you pushed your finger, that you previously used to scoop some whipped cream, against her cheek pulling yourself back

"Two can play at this game,"

you whispered, a mischievous glint in your gaze.

gently, you traced the line of the whipped cream from her cheek to the corner of her mouth, painting a sweet path that you couldn't wait to follow. Her eyes still locked on yours, as you slowly briought your finger closer to your own mouth. With an exaggerated show of temptation, you sucked the whipped cream off, savoring the taste as it lingered on your tongue.

"Mmm, you taste so sweet''

her eyes flashed with need and you suddendly found yourself pulled onto her lap as she kissed you passionately

''i'm gonna cover you in whipped cream and lick you clean''

she whispered in your ear

streamergfvi: who let you convince her to wear matching christmas hairband for her christmas stream special.

You were casually lounging on her bed, your fingers dancing across the screen of your phone, searching for some holiday inspiration to sprinkle onto vi's upcoming Christmas stream special when a pop up advertisement caught your eye, a picture of candy cane-themed hairbands.

you looked at vi seated across from you, her back against the bed's headstand while she edited a video for her youtube channel on her lapton perched over her lap, you couldn't help but giggle imagining how she would look wearing it.

vi tore her gaze from the screen of her laptop and arched an eyebrow at you, a small smile curling her lips

''what's so funny?''

she asked as you pulled yourself up to sit on your knees in front of her and held the phone up in front of her. She let her eyes roam over the screen before a smirk formed on her face.

''Yes''

she said without even thinking about it

''yes?'' you asked surprised

''yes you would look incredibly cute in one of this, you want me to buy you one?''

you rolled your eyes

''I want us to wear it, for your christmas stream special''

Vi couldn't help but chuckle at the suggestion, a playful glint in her eyes as she took in the image of the candy cane hairbands.

She leaned forward, setting aside her laptop, and reached for the phone to get a closer look. "You want us to match?" she teased, her voice filled with amusement.

"Come on," you said with a grin

''what about my reputation? the chat is gonna give me hell about it''

you just pouted knowing full well she couldn't resist you ready to hit her with your secret convincing weapon

''please violet? please please please'

you looked at her battling your eyelishes and pushing yourself closer to her

''not fair'' she mumbles trying not to look at you as a blush painted her cheeks.

and that's how she found herself in front of the camera, a pair of candy cane-themed hairbands on her head and a scowl on her face as she read the chat. You giggling seated on her lap.

@/Ekk0: man bat your eyes three times if you are in danger

@/piltiespinerc: vi looks like an evil elf

@/sevikunt: she is also as short as an elf

streamergfvi: who runs as hot as a radiator and streams in a pair of grinch boxer and fuzzy socks set you gifted her and her hoodie. whenever you sleep together during winter it's like a battlefield because she pushes the blankets away in her sleep and you always need to pull them back up.

As the night wears on, the dance of the blankets continues. You, the recipient of her warmth, are engaged in a silent tug-of-war as she unconsciously kicks them off, leaving you exposed to the cold. Your limbs, accustomed to the warm sanctuary provided by the blanket fortress, scurry to pull the covers back up. The fabric whispers and shifts as you both adjust, trying to find a balance between your thermal preferences.

With a sleepy groan that is both endearing and exasperated, she rolls over, her eyes fluttering open just enough to reveal a sliver of hazy awareness. In one swift movement, she abandons the battle of the blankets, opting instead to use her own body as a human comforter. Her form, now a warm, heavy weight, settles over yours like a contented cat. Her head finds its place in the crook of your neck, her breath a gentle warmth against your skin.

Her words, muffled by the pillow and the weight of sleep, are a declaration of warmth and affection.

"Fuck the blankets,"

she murmurs,

"I can warm you up just fine."

And with that, she wraps her limbs around you, effectively trapping your body in a cocoon of love and heat. The battlefield of blankets is forgotten as you both sink into the warm embrace she offers, the chilly winter night outside now just a distant memory. The room feels smaller, but the bed feels infinitely cozier with her sprawled over you, her heartbeat a steady rhythm against your chest.

streamergfvi: who can't keep her hands to herself when you surprise her opening the door of your apartment in a elf costume. Vi mentioned to you once that she thought you would look really fucking cute in an elf costume and today you decided to surprise her. As the door to your apartment swings open vi's eyes widen in surprise and pure, unadulterated lust as she takes in the sight of you. Her gaze lingers on the curve of your hips, the swell of your breasts peeking out from the tight green fabric, and the playful jingle of the bells adorning your hat and shoes.

"Look what Santa left me,"

she murmurs, the corner of her mouth quirking up in a knowing smile.

Before you can even answer, she's already closing the distance between you, her hands finding their way to your hips as she pulls you in for a passionate kiss. Your heart races as you feel her strong arms around you, the warmth of her body pressing against your own. The kiss deepens, her tongue exploring your mouth as if it's a place she's missed dearly. You melt into her embrace, letting out a content sigh.

Breaking the kiss, she looks into your eyes, a playful glint in her own.

"I think someone's been a very naughty elf," she whispers, her voice thick with desire.

Without another word, she scoops you up and carries you into the kitchen, setting you effortlessly onto the cool kitchen counter. The suddenness of it all makes your heart race and your breath hitch in your throat. Your legs instinctively part to allow her closer, and she takes full advantage, stepping between them. Her eyes never leave yours as she leans in, the heat of her breath ghosting over your skin. Her voice is a low, seductive growl,

Her hands are everywhere, tracing the lines of your body with a familiarity that sends shivers down your spine. She runs her thumbs along the hem of your costume, pushing it up slightly to reveal more of your bare thighs. You can't help but whimper at the sensation, your body already responding to her touch.

Her mouth is a searing brand as it trails down your neck, leaving a path of kisses and nips that make you arch into her.

You lean back, supporting yourself on your elbows as she works her way down, her mouth leaving a trail of fire in its wake. You can feel her hot breath against your skin, and it makes you squirm with anticipation.

''fuck violet please''

you moan throwing your head back

Her mouth finds its way to the apex of your thighs, and she kisses you through the thin barrier of your costume, making you squirm with need. The sound of the fabric tearing is music to your ears as she decides she's had enough of the foreplay and dives in, her tongue meeting your skin with a hunger that matches your own.

You grip the counter's edge, your knuckles turning white as she works her magic. The world around you fades away, replaced by the feel of her tongue swirling around your clit, her fingers pressing inside you, and the sweet, sweet friction that builds with each movement.

Your hips buck against her mouth, and she chuckles against your skin, sending vibrations through your core that make you shiver.

You're lost in a haze of pleasure, unable to form coherent thoughts beyond the desperate need for more.

Her rhythm is relentless, each stroke and suck bringing you closer to the edge. You're panting now, your hips rocking against her face as you chase that elusive peak. And when you finally reach it, it's like a starburst of sensation, leaving you trembling and gasping for air. She doesn't stop, though, continuing to kiss and lick until you're a boneless, quivering mess, your legs wrapped around her neck, holding her in place.

she smiles as soon you free her from the hand that had been gripping her hair, your legs relaxing allowing her to push her head back.

''I didn't know we were going for a naughty North Pole theme tonight."

streamergfvi: who asked you to celebrate christmas eve with her, vander and powder knowing you haven't talked to your homophobic family in years and would have probably spent christmas in your apartment alone.

After the icredibly delicious dinner vander cooked, for the first time in your life you felt like you finally belonged as you watched vi and powder wrestle over the remote cotrol of the tv while they bickered about the movie to watch.

''powder we are watching gremlins''

powder tried to reach the remote as vi stretched her arm in the air to prevent her from taking it.

''I'm not watching that stupid movie again''

violet smirked watching powder struggle

''why is that? you think you'll get scared and snuck in my bed in the middle of the night like when you were five''

powder jumped glaring at vi offended

''shut up that was one time''

as you watched them bicker some more you felt the tears fill up the corners of your eyes. ''maybe christmas isn't so bad'' you thought to yourself offering a small content smile to vi when she glanced at you.

streamergfvi: After you watched ''Home Alone'' (yes you teamed up with powder against vi) you and vi went to vi's room to exchange presents.

Her eyes sparkled with excitement as you fumbled in your bag, your hands slightly trembling. You had been carrying around the little blue box for what felt like an eternity, the weight of it feeling heavier than any burden you had ever known. Inside was a set of shiny silver keys, attached to a keychain that had a tiny, delicate heart.

Finally, with a deep breath, you pulled out the box and placed it in her hand.

"Merry Christmas, Violet"

you said, trying to keep my voice steady, your heart thudding in your chest like a drum at a parade. She looked at you, a hint of curiosity playing at the corners of her mouth, her eyes searching myours for a clue of what could possibly be hidden within the wrapping.

Vi gently tore open the paper, her movements deliberate, savoring the moment. The box revealed itself, and she lifted the lid with a soft gasp. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of the keys, her thumb tracing the heart-shaped charm.

"What's this?"

she whispered, her voice filled with a mix of surprise and hope.

"It's… it's a spare set of my apartment keys,"

You began, the words tumbling out of my mouth faster than you could control.

"I want you to have them because… because I want you to move in with me. I know it's a big step, but I can't imagine my life without you in it, and oh god i had this speech prepared but i don't know i just I love you and i guess a want to wake up to you every morning and fall asleep together every night...''

The room seemed to hold its breath as she looked at the keys, then back at you.

The silence stretched out, feeling like a tightrope walk over a canyon. And then, she broke into the most radiant smile, her eyes brimming with unshed tears.

"Holy shit, really?"

she asked, and you couldn't help but let out a giggle.

"Really,"

you affirmed, taking her hand in yours.

"I want to come home to you every night, to wake up to your messy hair and the smell of burnt toast in the morning. I want to share our lives, our space, and our future."

Vi looked at you, her gaze unwavering, and then she threw her arms around me, the keys dangling from her hand as you hugged tightly.

"fuck yes,"

she murmured into your neck.

"I'd love to move in with you."

you spent the rest of the night cuddling in her bed, hands interlocked as you talked about your future together, a pair of silver matching rings she gifted you glinting in the dim light of her room. And as the snow continued to fall outside, painting the world in a fresh coat of white, you knew that with Vi by my side, this was going to be the best Christmas yet.

#vi arcane #arcane spoilers #arcane au #arcane #arcane s2 spoilers #arcane violet #arcane vi #arcane vi x reader #arcane vi and jinx #vi x reader #vi x you #arcane vi x you #wlw #sapphic #lesian

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writingoddess1125 · 1 year ago

Note

Yes Buggy and his hot wife are Roger and Jessica Rabbit, but if I may submit this comparison to the council:

✨Buggy and his wife are The Grinch and Martha May Whovier✨

Oh It Is ON!

In the spirit of the Winter Holiday Spirits! We are doing a Christmas Spin on My Effect Series!

So get you a egg nog with 90% rum maybe some holiday 'cigarettes' sit back and enjoy this clusterfuck idea! 🍃 🚬

P.S IM REALLY HIGH WHILE WRITING THIS SO ITS PROBABLY ALL OVER THE PLACE! ENJOY!

The Grinch and Martha May Effect 🎄

If you like my shit, support me on Ko-Fi because recession!

Link to Main Masterlist

• This Crusty Bastard has had the heart of the most beautiful women in the world.

• And didn't even realize it-

• You had all met on Gol D Roger's ship- Buggy being a snot nosed apprentice with his gaggle of friends- While you being one of the few girls on the ship was a cup bearer for your father. Silvers Rayleigh.

• This made you incredibly off limits to all, Sheltered by a life of luxury your father provided as your only real 'job' was to fill his cup. Even Gol D Roger the famed Captian spoiled you in cute dresses and expensive bows.

• Turning you into the Doll of the Oro Jackson.

• A Princess Wrapped in Silver and Gold

• You still remembered the first day you ment him-

• Both of you 13 years old, fresh faced kids still needing the guidance of adults.

• You'd snuck off from your normal areas, wanting to explore the ship some more. That's till you saw a boy- His face covered in what seemed to be gunpowder as he filled homemade bombs with total care.

• His blue hair peaking out of the red hat and drawing you to step a big closer to get a better look.

• The Tull of your sparkling dress catching the corner of his eye as he spun around quickly holding a knife out.

• Then, Ocean eyes met Your own and time seemed to slow. Ever so slightly- Your cheeks warming as you gave a soft smile.

• "Hello" Your little voice slipped out, Buggy stating at you with unsure interest. A crooked smile on his lips as he greeting you quickly- "H-Hi!"

• "Is something wrong with your nose? It looks kinda funny" Buggy glares hard at you, making you blink in question at his reaction.

• Buggy covering his face, his ocean eyes starting to cloud with tears like a storm eyed he stared at you. "Whats so funny about my nose!? Huh!"

• "Well don't get angry- I don't mind. I think its cute. Im sorry if i offended you" You smile so sweetly, feeling bad for making his sad as Buggy felt his face start to glow.

• "You think.. My nose is cute?" He questioned, making you nod honestly. He giggled into his hands, a high pitch squeaky laugh that made you smile and your heart flutter.

• "Whats your name?" He grins at you, Hearing you actually want to know about him. "Buggy! What about you pretty girl?" Your face flushing at his words.

• "I'm-"

• "(Y/N)!" You heard your name being called before you could speak, recognizing the voice of your father.

• "(Y/N)- That's such a pretty name.. Will I see you again?" Buggy asked, his eyes sparking at such a chance. Your delicate hand reaching forward and tucking a strand of his blue hair back into his hat. "I will try"

• And try you did. For a year the two of you would meet, talking on the deck of the ship for hours till you had to sneak away again. Buggy even using his Chop Chop abilities to help you get back to your room.

• It was tragic to say, but you'd never get a chance to see Buggy for many many years after your 14th birthday- Your Father sending you to an Island to keep you safe as you entered your teens.

• The disbanding of the Roger Pirates aiding in this as well-

• The death and heartache Seeming to follow you as you found yourself handing in the hands of Sir Crocodile.

• Crocodile having had an interest to whoo you for years- as he too had met you on Gol D Roger's ship, finding you the only person more then suitable to be at his side.

• You had never truly accepted his advances, Despite his power, status and more. He didn't have your heart, and you wouldn't give him any part of yourself in compensation.

• Decades it had been like this, still the girl wrapped in silver and gold. Hoarded like treasure for everyone to admire, however nothing more.

• But it seemed the tides were beginning to change- After Crocodile time in Impel Down- as well as the formation of the Cross Guild- You would meet your blue haired friend once again. Just in a unique Flashy way

• AKA by his head being punched off by Crocodile and accidently flung into your waiting chest.

• "(Y/N)?-" He mumbled against your bust, your cheeks flaring deep crimson as he floated his head up to lock eyes with your flushed face.

• He got his ass beaten for that by Crocodile of course-

• But for you it was like your heart was Kickstart again!

• At the Cross Guild, you'd always attend. Crocodile assuming it was because you were warming up to him, But in truth it was to see Buggy-

• The two of you talking to each other constantly. He was so fascinating to you-

• Like you two were children again falling in love- Sitting out under the stars talking for hours. You tucking strands of his blue hair back into his hat, him fixing any Imperfections on yohr dresses as you sat next to him. Which often lead to Buggy giggling into his gloved hands while turning away from you

• You accepted him as he was, and adored him for it. You loved his mind, his passion, even his laziness and lewd humor.

• As time went on, you noticed the same for him. How he would ask you YOUR interest, what things YOU actually liked.

• Something no one had asked you since you were a child. Most just assuming your taste and interest.

• Hell when he came for meetings he would bring you something you'd actually want. Not just shiny things to make you look more valuable.

• "Hey (Y/N)!" Buggy cloaked towards you excited as he held out a old dirty crate to you. "I remeber you said you really liked weird plants, so I found these old books and scientist-y samples of the weirdest! Hope you like them!"

• You'd almost cried at the gift, so overfill with you you hugged Buggy. Before spending hours going through the crate and organizing it all to your liking.

• However with the sweets, came the sours...

• There had been countless times you'd walk into the Guild and see Buggys face. Beaten and bruised- How Crocodile and Mihawk kicked his ass as their own personal stress relief or just to show dominace.

• It broke your heart.. truly- Buggy humiliated like that infront of everyone time and time again... You would try to comfort him after the meetings but he would just run away- You swore you saw tears in his eyes a few times.

• You'd want to many times to have him run into your arms, so you could whisper how good of a man he is and deserving so love.

- It had been a particularly festive day in the Guild Hall, Crocodile dressing in a nicer suit as better food was served and fancy alcohol was served. You even being gifted a dress by the Desert King himself to wear today, you didn't refuse but felt rather uncomforble at how attentive he was acting with you.

And uncomfortable that he had purposely sat Buggy so far away from you..

As dinner was being served, Crocodile stood up from his seat next to you. Slapping his hand on the table to gather everyone's attention.

"I have an announcement-" Crocodile voice boomed through the room, you glancing up as the hook handed man gestured for you to stand. Which you silently did-

Oh No...

"(Y/N)- Daughter of Silvers Rayleigh. A women of greatness and deserving of only the finest of riches"

No...

"I ask for your hand- I swear I will give you all the wealth you desire"

Please No...

"From Riches, Silks and even the One Piece if your little mind wishes for it"

NO!

"Will you Marry me?"

Something inside you just snapped. Staring at Crocodile face that had the crooked cigar hanging from his lips.

Crocodile taking your silence positively as he handed you a velvet box with a massive diamond ring inside of it.

You stared at the ring box that had been placed in your glove hands and felt... nothing. Absolutely nothing...

Before A fire of rage filled your insides-

"We- We aren't even dating!-" You shouted, everyone looking to yoh in shock as you looked around wildly.

"What makes you think I want to stay by your side!? You were just ment to protect me not use me as a Scudo Girlfriend! I'm not yours nor will I ever be!-" Crocodile face starting to turn red, his eyes glancing around him before setting on you with a harsh glare.

"So I-I can't accept this" You finally hissed out, bright red in the face from both embarrassment and anger. Everyone in the Guild Hall staring at you in total shock.

"Besides My Heart... Belongs to someone else-" Crocodile eyes widen as he clenched his hands in rage. You handing the ring box back to him delicately, before turning to look at Buggy who had been picking his nose diassociating heavily at the dramatics. Only coming back to reality when he saw everyone was staring at him-

Buggy stares confused, 'Why are you all looking at me?' He looked behind himself first, Then around to see who you could be talking about, that had your heart. Realizing quickly he was alone and you actually ment HIM!

"Wait Me!?"

• After such a stunning yet shocking reveal, Crocodile cut you lose. Feeling you embarrassed him infront of everyone- Which had been the greatest day of your life!

• As you fly into Buggy's (Who got beaten senseless once again) arms. Who accepts you happily into his life-

• Frolicking away to his Circus Themed Ship in what can only be described as total Joy!

• "HAHAHAHAHA I WIN!!" He yells out, holding you in his arms as he flips off Crocodile once more and holds you in his arms.

• You adore his Flashy Crusty ways, the way he weirdly cackled and utter lack of emotional control.

• Oh How you love your Crusty Clown!

#x reader #one piece #one peice x reader #one peice live action #buggy one piece #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #captain buggy #x female reader #the grinch #one piece buggy #op buggy #buggy #buggy x wife reader

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newobsessionweekly · 21 hours ago

Text

Aftershock - Office Barbie

Main masterlist | The Rookie masterlist

Part 1 - Part 2

Tim Bradford x younger!reader

Fandom: The Rookie

Summary: Weeks later, fate (and a lost bet) brings Tim to a community conference—where you just so happen to be the key speaker.

Fluff

Warnings: sexual tension? kissing? not proofread

You didn’t expect to see him again.

Not really. You figured Sergeant Bradford belonged to that weird category of men you clash with once and remember longer than you should. Like a slow burn from a too-hot pan. Irritating, and then it lingers.

Tim wanted to leave the second they walked in.

“You two are evil,” he mutters to Lucy and Angela as they weave through city-funded booths and low-effort posters with cheap pamphlets about green living.

“This is what you get for losing a bet, Bradford,” Lucy chirps.

“I thought the punishment was brunch,” he growls.

Angela grins. “Brunch and an event. That’s how you learn humility.”

Tim’s already working on a plan to fake a phone call when the lights dim and a new voice comes through the speaker system.

Sharp. Confident. Familiar.

He turns his head—and his body goes still.

“Holy shit,” Lucy whispers beside him. “It’s her.”

Angela lifts a brow. “Tell me that’s not your girl from the construction site.”

Tim clenches his jaw. “She’s not my—”

“She called you Grinch,” Lucy interrupts, grinning. “You called her Barbie. And now she’s out here talking about carbon-neutral foundations in heels that could kill a man.”

“I think I love her,” Angela whispers.

“She’s not—” Tim tries again, but his voice dies in his throat as you scroll through your presentation, completely composed. He watches the way you move—elegant, direct, sure of yourself. You don’t look nervous. You look like the stage was built for you. Like the mic came from your purse.

You look… expensive. Like someone who knows how to win a boardroom, a bet, and a man—if you feel like it. Like the version of you he wouldn’t know how to approach, if he hadn’t already seen you in a hard hat and work boots, barking orders at construction workers during an earthquake like it was just another Tuesday.

You don’t dress like this for conferences.

Usually it’s practical shoes, maybe a sleek ponytail, something just polished enough to prove you take yourself seriously, but not too much—so no one calls you “daddy’s little intern” behind your back.

But today?

Today you wear hot pink.

The blazer is tailored, the skirt is short, and the heels are unapologetically sharp. Office Barbie realness. And you own it. You glide across the conference stage with your presentation remote in one hand and a bulletproof smile in place, heart pounding but controlled.

You’ve got this.

You’re talking sustainability in construction—carbon reduction, green infrastructure, water retention—and you know your shit better than half the men in the room who’ve been in the industry twice as long as you’ve been alive.

But then you see him.

Scowling like someone dragged him here against his will, still looking too good in a plain black T-shirt and jeans. And still somehow managing to make his scowl sexy.

You inhale, steady your hands on the remote. You don’t let it show. Not the way your stomach tightens or how your heart does a messy skip at the sight of him. You keep your voice level and your smile unfazed.

Because this isn’t the time. Or the place.

But God, you missed that face.

Tim hears words. He knows you’re talking about sustainability, about long-term environmental impact, about scalable urban design. He even recognizes a few terms. But none of it sticks. All he can focus on is the curve of your mouth when you speak, the fierce spark in your eyes, the way you command the room like you own every inch of it.

He's absolutely screwed.

Lucy elbows him hard. “Close your mouth, Bradford.”

“I’m not—”

“You’re drooling,” Angela stage-whispers.

“I’m going to kill both of you,” he growls.

“You’re welcome,” Lucy sings.

The second you step off stage, the conference organizer pulls you aside. Praise, compliments, the usual. But your eyes keep darting to the back of the room, where the tall, broody one is whispering furiously to his two grinning companions.

“What are you doing?” Tim hisses.

Lucy clasps her hands like a rom-com fairy godmother. “Helping you get laid. Now shut up and be nice.”

Angela tugs her away. “Don’t be a caveman. Go say hi.”

Tim glares after them. But he moves.

God, he looked even better up close. A little scruffier than last time. Brooding. And his eyes—so blue they could knock the wind out of you.

Tim gave you a slow once-over, and that smirk hit.

He stands there, hands in his pockets, the corner of his mouth just barely tipped up. That same annoyingly sexy, broody look on his face. Blue shirt stretched across his shoulders like a sin.

“Office Barbie suits you.”

You roll your eyes—but you’re smiling. “Still calling me that?”

“Still acting like you don’t love it?”

You step closer, arms crossed. “What are you doing here, Grinch?”

“Lost a bet.”

You bite your lip to hold in the laugh. “That explains the permanent scowl.”

Tim glanced at the now-empty stage, then back at you. “You were good.”

“Only ‘good’?” you teased, stepping closer. “I worked on that presentation for weeks.”

He tilted his head, eyes lingering on your mouth. “To be honest, I didn’t hear most of it.”

“Oh?” You raised your brows, pretending offense. “Too many big words for you?”

His mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile. “Too many distractions.”

Your cheeks warmed. But you didn’t flinch. “That sounds like a you problem.”

“Maybe,” he said, eyes dropping briefly—pointedly—to your legs before dragging back up to your eyes. “But the view was decent.”

You let out a soft laugh and cocked a hip. “You flirting with me, Sergeant?”

He stepped closer. “Would it work?”

“Depends.” You toyed with the button of your blazer. “Are you here to arrest me for having too many words in my presentation?”

“Didn't bring cuffs."

You gave him a slow, deliberate once-over.

“That’s too bad. I did prefer the uniform.”

He smiled. Actually smiled. It was a little crooked. A little dangerous.

And it did things to your insides.

Before you could say something even more reckless, a voice called your name. One of your professors—old, sweet, the type who’d ask you for lecture slides in a USB drive.

“I should go."

But when you started to step away, he reaches for your wrist—not grabbing, just touching. His fingers brush against your skin and it jolts through you like a live wire.

“Wait—can I get your number?” he asks.

You pause. Smirk.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

He raises a brow. “You’d rather I stalk you?”

You lean in slightly, lips just shy of his ear.

“You’ll have to catch me first.”

Then you’re gone—heels clicking as you cross the room, leaving him standing there with a frustrated groan and a look that says challenge accepted.

The event wrapped up an hour later, long after the panels ended and the buzz of too many conversations filled the air.

And there he was.

Leaning against his truck like he belonged there. Arms crossed. Jaw tight. Watching you approach like he hadn’t been doing exactly that since the second you walked in.

You slowed, one brow raised. “Stalking me now?”

He shrugged. “Maybe I’m just being polite.”

You glanced at the truck. “Didn’t think Grinches offered rides to strangers.”

He stepped forward, opened the passenger door for you like a damn gentleman. “Get in, Princess Barbie.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away.

The inside of Tim’s truck is warm. Smells faintly like pine and leather and whatever cologne clings to him naturally, subtle but unmistakably him and masculine in a way that makes your thighs press together instinctively. You settle into the passenger seat, crossing your legs, careful to tug your skirt down as far as it'll go.

He starts the engine. Glances at you. “Seatbelt, Barbie.”

You smirk. “Worried about my safety, Sargeant?”

His jaw flexes, his eyes on the road now. “Always.”

Silence falls for a beat, thick and brimming with the words neither of you are ready to say. Then he clears his throat.

“So… what are you studying exactly?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Civil engineering. Sustainability focus. You know, boring stuff.”

He scoffs. “Didn’t look boring from where I was sitting.”

You give him a side glance. “You mean from where you were staring?”

His mouth twitches—almost a smile. “You were hard to miss.”

You feign surprise. “Because of the heels or the facts?”

Tim shoots you a look. “Definitely the heels.”

You laugh, and he exhales like he can finally breathe again. The ease between you returns, like it never left—not after the earthquake, not after the adrenaline wore off.

Not even after weeks apart.

The car settles into a smooth cruise, city lights rolling past the windows. Tim rests his right elbow on the center console. His fingers dangle—casual, relaxed. Then they brush against the bare skin of your thighs.

Heat crackles up your spine. You don’t move. Neither does he. His pinky drags the lightest line over your skin—so subtle it could’ve been an accident. But it’s not. You both know it.

You shift, just barely. His finger follows.

Still, neither of you look at each other. You chew your lip.

“You were impressive today,” he says, voice lower now. “Seriously.”

You glance at him.

“Thanks,” you say, softer. “I wasn’t sure anyone actually listened.”

“I did,” he murmurs. “Mostly.”

Your brow lifts. “Mostly?”

“I was distracted.”

You smirk. “By the visuals?”

“By your mouth,” he says simply. “Hard to focus on what you’re saying when you look like that.”

A pulse flutters in your throat. You open your mouth to answer—but then the car slows. A red light.

And suddenly, he turns. His fingers shift, pressing slightly into the inside of your thigh. His other hand leaves the wheel. And then he leans in.

You meet him halfway.

The kiss starts soft—testing, brushing. But your lips part almost immediately, like your body was waiting for this, begging for it. His hand cups your cheek. Yours tangle in the collar of his shirt. His tongue slips past your lips, deep and claiming.

It’s slow for a second. Then it’s not. The kiss turns wild—hungry, open-mouthed, teeth and breath and want. Like all the flirting, the near-misses, the power plays between you were just foreplay for this.

Your back arches into the kiss. His hand slides up your thigh, firm and confident. You gasp softly against his mouth, and he swallows the sound like it feeds him.

Then someone honks, announcing the green light. You both freeze.

Tim pulls back slowly, his forehead resting against yours for a beat before he straightens and puts the truck in gear again, cursing under his breath as he drives. His fingers never leave your thigh.

He pulls up in front of your apartment building, cuts the engine, and hops out to open your door before you can even unbuckle.

Chivalry looks good on him.

You step out, heart pounding, the kiss still tingling on your lips. But the second you’re on the sidewalk, his eyes are on your mouth again.

You smile up at him, voice low and teasing. “You know… I live alone.”

He raises an eyebrow, lips twitching. “As an cop, I suggest you stop saying that to strangers.”

You grin. “Didn’t know you were a stranger back in the car, Sergeant.”

He steps closer and kisses you again. Harder this time. Wilder. His hands find your waist, dragging you against him as your fingers tangle in the front of his shirt. You kiss him like you’ve been waiting—because you have. For weeks. For months. For this exact moment.

You fumble with your keys, still kissing, still gasping between touches.

The door opens. Neither of you stop as you kick the door shut with your heel.

Tim presses you up against it, his mouth hot and hungry on your neck.

You pull his shirt over his head—god, he’s ripped—and he does the same to you, sliding your blazer off your shoulders, fingers grazing your skin, leaving heat in their wake. You gasp when his lips find your collarbone.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs.

You look him in the eye. “Don’t you dare.”

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ysrjune · 4 months ago

Note

Could you write a Christmas shopping with either Scott Barringer or Sam monroe? <3

like this? 🎄

a/n: sorry for all the #hashtags in the actual writing I was feeling different #haha. sorry this is lowkey corny it just makes sense to make 16 year olds awkward and corny like this 😔

"oh, these are cute!" you say while looking at a dark green christmas sweater. Scott wasnt really paying attention, he was mostly just there to pay for your things. "Mhm," he hummed, zoning out on his barley visible reflection in the glass window. "You could atleast pretend to be more interested." she rolls her eyes and moves around him to look at more things. he followed you, picking at his fingers. "this store is for grandmas, why do you wanna shop here?" he says with a hint of disgust. "my mom used to shop here all the time when I was a kid. not everything in here is for grandmas." Scott responds with a small noise and looks at all the christmas themed pillows on the racks.

"you know what we should do? we should take those awkward christmas photos at macys." you smile up at him while he felt a fluffy pillow. he looks down at you with an annoyed looking face (which was really just his resting face) "wouldn't do it for a million bucks." he looks back at the pillow. "someone's being a grinch." you cross your arms and soon enough, he socked you in the shoulder. not too hard, but hard enough for it to hurt. "you're annoying, just pick something out already. I dont wanna be in this store." He whines, holding your hand and walking around.

Scott was not your boyfriend, and he made that clear.. well, in your mind, he did. you were just clueless that he sort of liked you. everyone just assumes that you two are bestfriends (you are.)

It took 15 more minutes for you to find something at the "granny store." It was a small little porcelain penguin trinket that was wearing a santa hat and holding a gift. the next store you dragged Scott into was a clothing shop. your parents invited him over for christmas under one condition from your mom: he wears christmas pants like everyone else would. "these are all boring." you tell him, going through all the plad jammies. "oh look! theres this one!" you take them off the rack and turn to scott to show him, to which he scrunches his nose at. "im not wearing that."

"but they're cute!" grinch themed pj bottoms. "theyre horrible. disgusting. ugly. stupid. hideo—" "OKAY I get it! jeez!" you put them back and go searching for more. He looked around by himself for a little while and actually came back with something. "I like these." he shows you gingerbread pjs. "oh my gosh! these are so cu-" "dont ruin it for me." he holds his finger to your mouth to shush you. "but-" "SHHHH. Silence." He hangs the pjs on his arm and throws his other arm over your shoulder. "come on, lets go."

At the christmas party, he was all smiles and super cheery. he was currently making a gingerbread house with your little sister. "that color is ugly, though." he tells your sister as she glued the walls together with yellow frosting. "i dont care, scott. this is MY gingerbread house, not yours!" he smiles and ends up tackling her on the couch, tickling her. your sister was like 13, and obviously had a crush on Scott, but it was clear it was just an innocent crush. #girlhood

later, you took a bunch of photos with and of him. he wore a santa hat in every photo since you messed up his hair earlier while playing around. you were happy because in most photos, he was smiling. scott has such a great smile, but he doesnt believe it. "why do you look so mad in this?" you show him. his arms were crossed, legs spread as he sat on the couch. the tail of his hat on the right side of his face, sort of hiding it. "I was being nonchalant and mysterious. what if you decide to share those and the fine ladies dont wanna lay me?" he says like it was a normal thing to say. "nobody was gonna lay you anyway." you roll your eyes. he tackled you after that.

around 10, his dad wanted him home. his house was right down the street, so you walked him #womeninmalefields #goated. "I had fun tonight, barry!" you smile. he fucking hates it when you call him barry, but he cant do anything about it because he knows you'll only continue. "me too, skank." he playfully nudges your shoulder. he doesnt think you're a skank, he just calls you it because you call him barry. "I'll see you around, I gotta go inside." he says, opening the door. "wait," you turn him around. ".. crouch down a little." he gives you a weird look but does what you ask. then you #kissed him since there was mistle toe right above the door.

scott didnt pull away, he actually pulled you in and went a little #crazy. he used a little bit of tongue ew teenage boys ugh but it was #lowkeyhot so you #letithappen. he pulls away and smiles a little bit. "best christmas gift ever." he says and you shove him at the door. "dont get used to it." you smile back. scott laughs and opens the door behind him, still facing you. "see you 'round, skank." he tells you, sarcastically blowing a kiss and going in the house.

@erosmutt @d0llfilth @anakinstwinklebunny @lovethestarrs @literally-izzy @mx1curriee505 @valloos

#asks!#anon #scott barringer drabble #scott barringer fluff #scott barringer x reader #scott barringer higher ground #scott barringer #scotty my babe #hayden christensen fanfiction #hayden christensen higher ground #hayden christensen #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen x you

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phonkscribes · 2 months ago

Text

The Greatest Gift of All.

In which you spend Christmas with Vergil and his family. A Christmas special that was totally on time by the way. That I totally didn't forget about. By the way.

The Devil May Cry was more lively than it had been for a time, the jukebox buzzed with life as Dante was in the kitchen, preparing a bowl of eggnog for the handful of people that would be dropping in for the holiday. He could always count on Morrison being here, his old drinking buddy when no one else was around and ‘work’ was slow, and he knew that Lady and Trish would be here as always, but this year would be different. This year, he’d get to spend Christmas with his brother and his old friend. After what felt like ages, they’d finally be out of hell, cleaning up the mess that Vergil had made trying to achieve true strength. Ha, because that had only gone so well the first time.

Still, he was glad to have him back. Not as an enemy, or a fragment, but him as he wholly was. It felt so wrong to go so long without his twin, back when they were kids, he thought it’d always just be the two of them against the world… but that was so long ago. He’d grown and the hole left in his wake had already began to mend itself when he met the kid, and when he had Lady and Trish there at his side. He wasn’t ever truly alone, not like Vergil was, which makes him all too happy to be able to share the holiday with his twin and the only other person in his life. The little reader from the library by their old home.

He could hear Vergil coming down the stairs as he stirred the bowl with the ladle, admiring his handy work as he added just one more shot of whisky to the mixture. With the building’s heater and AC, they’d have to keep warm somehow, right? It’s not like Patty was coming over anyway, so they didn’t have to worry much about that. Dante could feel his brother’s eyes on the back of his head as he turned to regard him, a lazy grin on his face as he saw him in a stuffy sweater that looked itchy as hell. The cable knit had a snowman on the front, with a carrot nose and a black tophat to boot.

On the way back from the store, there was a hat, he would’ve liked to have nabbed for Mr. Grinch over here but Vergil shot him down before he could even suggest they get it.

“Look who decided to leave his room. I’m finishing up on the drinks over here, but uh, why don’t you go and start decorating out in the front? It’d certainly be a lot of help, Lady and Trish just brought the tree in”, he points to the lobby with his eyes as he decides to pour himself a cup of eggnog. As a little reward for his ‘hard work’.

“Hmph… very well”, he mused, “Do you know when our little reader will get here?”, he asked, folding his arms at his brother while he flicked his eyes over to the box set up near the door where the evergreen had been propped up with the stand. The tinsel and ornaments were sticking out of the box, and he didn’t doubt that it’d be a hard task for himself… if not tedious.

“Yeah- they called not too long ago, they should be getting here now”, he hummed as he sipped the creamy concoction, savoring the slight burn from the alcohol as it slid down.

As if right on cue, the door opens, and you make your grand entrance. You’ve met up with Vergil before this, by mere coincidence at that. He wasn’t looking for you, and you weren’t looking for him, so sure that it was the last you’d ever see of him again. But even so, that didn’t stop him from seeing the smallest hints and traces of you in everything. The way the sun set reminded him of you, of the time before he had taken the yamato and cleaved a path for himself. That you survived his armageddon brought him more peace than he could know, as he found you amongst the survivors trying to rebuild in Redgrave City.

It felt like you hadn’t changed, like you had remained just as you were on the day that you said goodbye for what could’ve been the last time. You didn’t like it then, telling him that it was just a farewell, that you’d see him again. And you did, the both of you did. But unlike then, he was more mature now. Your nose was red from the cold, your cheeks and even your fingertips held a rosy hue as he appraised you. A part of him disliked how faulty the systems of the agency were, having figured that his businessman brother would have the sense to maintain it better. The cold didn’t bother him much, but he saw the way you pulled your own sweater closer to your form, trying to stay warm.

Vergil laments that there isn’t more that he could do for you or to offer, and he isn’t sure if you’d like to drink Dante’s eggnog…

“Hey! You made it in one piece, want some eggnog?”, he heard his brother pipe up as he moved to step into the lobby from the kitchen.

“Oh- I’m alright, thanks. I think I’ll definitely have some later though”, you pipe up as you step closer to his twin. Vergil’s gaze still sits on you as you regard him with a similar look, your eyes drifting down to his chest, staring at the little snowman on his front before you bring your eyes back up.

“You’re staring”, your voice is a quiet reminder as he chuckles softly.

“I’m just… appreciating your outfit. I’m glad you decided to come, as ridiculous as this is…”, he admits, pinching the cheek of the snowman. It’s itchy, but he doesn’t mind it much.

“Well, that’s sort of the point of an ugly sweater party, isn’t it?”, you ask, wearing that half smile he had missed so much since he had last seen you. It’s a comforting sight.

You had worn a green sweater, with a fuzzy Rudolph pattern, with the red nose being made of sequins instead of being sewn on. You look off to the side to see the barren tree and its lack of any ornaments or other decorations on it.

“You haven’t started on the tree yet?”, you ask with a quirk of your brows.

“Ah… on that you’d have my brother to blame”, Vergil gestured to Dante who held his hands up with a shrug. It’s not that he had been putting it off(it was), but there were just other, more pressing matters to attend to. That’s all!

Of course, they were lucky to get a tree at all on the day of Christmas. If it weren’t for the girls, they’d be treeless(and homeless), just another debt he owed to his partners in crime. More so to Lady than Trish. You don’t linger for very long as you step over to the box and reach in to take something out, a silver ball and some other things. There were lights, and a star, but that was just about it. Nothing to put on the mantle, or even stockings for that matter. You had the feeling that Christmas wasn’t too celebrated within their family, which was fine of course, and made sense.

Demons celebrating Christ? That had to be a sin.

“Come on, let’s get started then”, you gave him a little nudge with your elbow, and so Vergil started to get a move on setting up the tree with you.

At least he’d have some company while he did this. The two of you could even start to catch up some more. Your exchanges ever since he had resurfaced along with his brother from the pits of hell have been brief, given due to his search of work and your own obligations, but you still had trouble getting over the fact that your childhood friend was an aspiring tyrant not that long ago, for his own reasons. The apotheosis of his plans had very nearly cost the world… he wonders how you can bring yourself to consort with such a villain now. The part of himself he cast aside would have a better idea than he, for even now, he struggles. As he loses himself to his thoughts, something tugs at his fingertips.

“Are you just going to stand there?”, you had asked him.

“I was merely giving you a head start”, he tactfully replies.

You seem to know what you’re doing, picking to space out the ornaments as he looks to the box to pick out his own handful of orbs to toss around on the tree. The last time he remembers doing this was when he was still a child. Dante would hurry along with the tinsel, running along the tree while their mother lifted him higher and higher. Then she’d lift him next to put the star on top. He expects to feel pain at the memories rising, a gentle sting, but he can only hear your voice.

“When I was younger, this was my favorite part of the holiday, not the gifts but decorating the tree. Everyone pitches in, and when we finished we’d have a hot cocoa together”, you mused, warmth blooming in your face as you recalled the memory with fondness.

You seemed so bright to him then, like you had when you two were leaving the library, and the sun hid just behind your taller frame. Standing next to you, he placed a hooked ball on a branch just above your own, your ornaments not without a pair as you hooked them up together. The silence filled in after your thought, a moment passing before it’s broken again, this time by him.

“… that sounds… nice. Perhaps after this then, you and I could indulge in a nice drink”, he offered, not without some awkwardness.

“I’d like that”, you nod, eyes carefully glancing up to his from where you stood.

So much time had passed, but you still see him. You can still see that haughty little boy that had so stubbornly tried to remove you from his spot in the library all those years ago. The awkwardness in his voice, the way he shifts around, almost as if uncertain with what to do with himself… it’s all so cute. He can try to be stoic, to appear indifferent or detached, but he’s teeming with excitement even if he doesn’t allow himself to say so. You give him a half smile, and he returns it, a smirk stretching across his face as he turns to collect more ornaments from the box.

“What are you thinking about?”, he asks, pulling the tinsel from the loose bunch it had been haphazardly thrown in. Without care, he could add as he started to untangle it from its fixed position in the worn cardboard.

“… I don’t know about everything that’s happened in the time we’ve been a part, but I’m glad we got to meet again”, you tell him as you stare at his back.

Most couldn’t say the same.

“I was sure you’d have forgotten about me”, he admits, turning back to face you, his arms spread out to get ready to wrap the length of the decoration around the evergreen tree.

“There isn’t a thing about you that’s forgettable. I don’t know anyone with hair so… silver, or with a face so…”, you take a moment to gesture, “You”, that is to say… “I promised that I wouldn’t forget you”

And you had the mind to call him little prince, just as you had always thought to when you were kids. Vergil laughs, but it’s a soft little ha, like you’d expect. You take one end of the tinsel from his hands as he starts to walk around the tree to dress it up. He could surmise the same thing about you. Every part of you was so memorable to him, carrying a little bit of you with him as he went about his life. Unknowingly dancing along to the same tune of that villain from the book you had been reading then. For all the blood shed and the violence wrought, the greatest gift he had received from it all was the chance to be here before everyone now.

Most of all, you.

You, who had only ever stared at him with those adoring eyes.

He’s stealing glances at you again from beyond the tree, through the branches and the many glittering ornaments as the two of you circle each other from around the tree. He chases after you, picking up his pace by a step until the tree is well adorned. Stepping back, he looks back at it, as you come to join him. The holidays have lost their magic to him, for the greater part, but he cannot deny the thrumming in his chest as he stands with you. It’s missing something though, arguably the most important part of a Christmas tree. You turn to fetch it from the box, looking down and inside to see the dusty little star from within.

Plucking it out, you give it a good blow, watching as the particles fly off with concealed disgust. Ah, well nothing a quick wipe wouldn’t mend. Vergil steps closer from behind you, his hands coming to appear over your own as he wipes it with his palm. Looking down at it from over your shoulder, something flickers within him.

“Why don’t you go and put it up”, you muse.

You don’t lean back into him, just as he goes to pull away, stealing the star from your hands to go and look at the top of the tree. His frame is tall, but it’s just barely out of reach. The little prince leans up on the tip of his toes as he reaches out to put the star on the point of the tree. Your hand slides over to the small of his back, steadying him should he start to teeter and fall. It’s not at all needed, but it shows that you care. He finds himself enjoying it greatly…

”Wow! Great work you two”, Dante pipes up after what feels like an eternity of silence. Vergil hadn’t forgotten he was there, but it startles you. The eldest twin turns to regard his younger brother with a look that the other shrugs off.

“Yes, well… what have you been up to exactly?”, Vergil quipped.

“Hey now, I’ve been setting up shop too, see?”, Dante pointed up at the ceiling above them, the both of your eyes trailing up to meet the little green herb that had been strung up.

“Mistletoe…”, you had correctly guessed. Dante winked at you before he left to go get something else, likely the food for tonight’s party.

He wasn’t saying it outright, but he was picking up on the tension filling his agency now, hoping this would expedite the journey. Vergil scoffed, then rolled his eyes, finding it stupid. Why did it matter if someone stood under it? He turned to you for a moment, about to comment on it when he held his tongue. The thought hadn’t struck him at all, earnestly. Then he looked away, going to go back to regard the tree. The two of you ended up doing a splendid job, just as Dante had apprised.

“So about those drinks hm?”, you asked with a chuckle, “There’s a cafe that’s open near here, unless you want some eggnog?”

”I think I’ll pass, let’s go to the cafe”, he agreed, eager to get out of the shop. The ugly sweater he wore was just now starting to itch. Vergil tugged at his collar as you made your way to the door.

You opened it for him as he walked out, passing Lady and Trish on the way. They had a few bags in their hands. Last minute Christmas shopping huh? At Dante’s expense, undoubtedly. Vergil glanced at them as you closed the door behind you. The snow began to fall in small flakes from the sky, slowly dotting your hair as you walked. He followed just a few steps behind, keeping his pace as you walked. His pale eyes glanced at your hand as you strode down the path towards the little coffee shop you spoke of.

His hand reached for you before he could stop himself, holding onto your fingers as you walked. You didn’t stop to ask him why, or to think to question it. The cold touch upon your warm hand was a feeling you’d been missing since forever. He fit there, sliding into place like a jigsaw piece. Vergil’s thumb rubbed behind your palm as you curled around his thumb. It isn’t very far, and the golden glow of the cafe glows softly, the light pouring out from the glass windows.

The inside is just as warm and cozy, with soft jazz playing overhead. The scents of the patrons and brewing coffee and cocoa alike would’ve bothered him normally, and he didn’t feel very comfortable meandering through public spaces like that, but he focused solely on you.

“What would you like?”, you asked, turning to look over your shoulder, a wry smile on your lips.

“What did you get when you were a kid?”

“Two hot cocoas then, with little marshmallows and whipped cream”, you tell the barista on hand.

You watched them make your drinks with some small appreciation as he looked on with a bored expression. It was nothing special, but he would appreciate the end product. You’re still holding his hand even after you pay for the drinks and when the two of you stand off to the side to pick them up. The cardboard sleeve helps to not burn your hands, but it’s not like it’d matter for when you’d step back out to return to the office anyway. Vergil brings the drink up to his lips and goes to take the first sip. It’s still hot, but not so searing that it seriously hurts him, not that it would.

“How can you drink it like that?”, you ask, waiting for it to cool down enough to not burn your tongue.

“Like what? It’s perfectly fine for me”, he gives a small smile, almost smug.

You shake your head, “Doesn’t that burn?”, you question him.

He shakes his head as he goes back to it, smacking his lips lightly to pass his judgement. It’s a little too sweet for him, but it’s not terrible. Cocoa is a children’s drink after all, but this is what he asked for. He’d take what he was given, refraining from making any complaints. You blow on yours from the little hole in the lid, not wanting to risk it even if you felt compelled for a sip just now. You find it endearing at least, that he was eager to try it enough to not wait for it to get to a comfortable point to drink it from.

Vergil starts to walk back, guiding you this time back home.

#phonk scribes #dmc imagines #dmc & reader #dmc x reader #vergil sparda x reader #vergil x reader #can be read as platonic or romantic #dante sparda #vergil sparda #reader is gender neutral #fluff #christmas fic #[ trish and lady are here but theryre not as present as the twins are ]#[ im gonna start on my inbox i prommy... and im still working on qpol... but idk if ill finish that.... ]#[ TERRIBLY SORRY FOR THE WAIT. ]

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zph · 4 months ago

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christmas with scaramouche. gn!reader | fluff. short drabble.

notes: fluff, very brief mention of angst in the beginning, mistletoe shenanigans, scara kinda compared to the grinch lol, small kiss (kinda on brand for this blog), not proofread

a/v: happy holidays everyone & merry xmas / eve to those who celebrate :) wrote this with straight indulgence & all vibes.

masterlist

Scaramouche doesn't really celebrate Christmas.

Not for the lack of liking the holiday, but rather, his family never bothered with the tradition and the people who once did celebrate were long and far gone now.

So, soon he later found disinterest in most holidays. Christmas included. The flashing neon lights, the obnoxious 3 songs they play during the season, and sickly sweet gingerbread cookies that serve, all left the prickly sensation in his chest.

That was until he met you.

You, who wanted to celebrate with him and enthusiastically so, or in your words, it was special because it marked the first time you both first celebrate Christmas together.

You, who somehow convinced him not completely hate the idea and to get into the spirit via. sweaters, hats, and….non-sugared sugar cookies. Whatever that meant.

“This hat is not bad.” He presses down the hat to fit snugly on his head.

You waved him off with a laugh. “Of course, of course. It is all yours.”

You, who took the time to decorate the apartment with the assortment of tinsels, stockings, and candles. Nothing too fancy but enough to easy to clean. Something that didn’t make him feel overwhelmed.

You, who is also currently trying to convince him to get under the mistletoe.

"That is not a mistletoe." He stared at the poor misshapen mistletoe that you diy-ed yourself. “I’m not sure what that is actually.”

“It is a mistletoe if you believe it is.” You added one more duck tape to your ‘science project’ and settled down with a firm nod. “Now watch…” You leaned against the wall. “Come here.”

His eyes stray from you to the mistletoe and almost resist the urge to laugh despite himself. Ridiculous.

“Sure.” He says, like a liar. Instead, he stepped away to gather the cookies from the box beside him: one shaped like you and the other shaped like him.

“You are worse than the man who stole Christmas.”

He took one glance at his grinch sweater (courtesy of you who wanted to match with the ugly sweaters tradition) and nodded with a snicker. “You’re right. I’m definitely better than him.”

Stepping towards you, he lifted up the two ornaments figures near the mistletoe. Then smushed their faces together. Kiss. “See, now I made them kiss.” His smile only grew once he spot the look of bewilderment on your face down to your gaping mouth. “Hm? What’s wrong?”

“That was….actually really cute.”

“Hah, told you, I’m better than the grinch.”

…

“I take that back.”

He shook his head. Can’t believe there would be a day where he would find himself actually enjoying Christmas.

Case in point: When he looked back to you, you were only step away from him, slowly closing the distance between you both. One hand closing around his, clenching the lookalike figures.

“Merry Christmas you Grinch.” And there, you rightfully took the kiss from beneath the mistletoe, breathing in the winter joy and chuckling against his lips. “Now, come on, let’s go eat these cookies.”

Scaramouche couldn’t help but laugh despite himself. “Merry Christmas to you too.”

Scaramouche doesn't really celebrate Christmas. But luckily, he finds that he wouldn’t mind spending it with you.

#scaramouche x reader #genshin x reader #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader fluff #genshin x you #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x y/n #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader fluff #christmas fic #cheesy ending lol #been jollylalalala-ing #you know what they say ‘the grinch’s heart grew 3 sizes that day’

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anonymousewrites · 4 months ago

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Lavender for Royalty; Sage for Wisdom Christmas Special

Kyoya Ootori x Reader

Christmas Special

“Is this place really so new to Tamaki? Don’t rich people have Christmas events?” said Haruhi.

Tamaki had insisted on bringing the Host Club to a commoner’s Christmas Market, so there they were. The lights were dazzling, sweet scents wafted from every corner, and couples and families were walking around together as far as the eye could see. Stalls were set up for every type of gift and cultural holiday food imaginable, and Tamaki was intent on experiencing every single aspect of the market.

“Christmas events are times for networking,” said (Y/N). “Businesses getting togehtr for goodwill. Gifts show off their wealth and are all tailor-made for each person. They’re not bought where there’s stuff for random people like a place like this.”

“That’s…impersonal,” said Haruhi.

“It’s not necessarily impersonal,” said (Y/N). “People can get individualized gifts that their loved ones appreciate. However, Tamakis family…falls on the impersonal.” They smiled. “That’s why he wants to do this with all of us.”

“Oh,” said Haruhi, looking at Tamaki as he showed off two hats to the twins and shoved them on their heads to “tell the difference.”

“Takashi, help me reach the tree,” said Honey.

Mori lifted him up so he could put the star on a small tree.

“Haruhi, come and look at the gingerbread houses! Teach me how to make one!” said Tamaki.

“We’re going to make a castle,” said Hikaru and Kaoru.

Tamaki suddenly looked alarmed. “We have to beat them, Haruhi!” He grabbed her arm. “Come on, come on!” He dragged her over towards the stalls while Haruhi flailed and reached towards (Y/N) for help.

(Y/N) just chuckled and waved. “Bye, Haruhi.”

“Wait, no, senpai, help!”

“Merry Christmas,” sang (Y/N) playfully.

“Leaving her to fend for herself against Tamaki, how cruel,” said Kyoya.

“Says our resident Scrooge,” said (Y/N). “At least I went along with Tamaki’s Santa-hat theme.” They smiled. “If you don’t go along with him this year, he’ll put you in a Grinch costume.”

Kyoya smiled coldly. “He wouldn’t dare.”

Okay, maybe not, thought (Y/N), a shiver going down their spine. “Well, I plan to enjoy myself. My aunt and uncle love these things. We have a ton of ornaments from people we know because of these stalls, and it means our tree is filled with memories. I want to find another one to remember today with the Host Club.”

“I’ll accompany you,” said Kyoya. He had no reason to follow Tamaki—he had enough people for his hijinks—so he would go with (Y/N) into the market.

The pair walked in together, and (Y/N) led the way to the craft stalls filled with ornaments.

“What would fit us all? A giant heart for flirting with girls?” joked (Y/N).

“What about money if you’re going in that direction?” said Kyoya.

“Okay, maybe not,” said (Y/N), chuckling.

“What if you got an ornament for each host?” said Kyoya.

“I don’t have the money for that,” said (Y/N) casually. “That’s for gifts.”

“I’ll pay for them,” said Kyoya.

“And I pay you back with interest?” said (Y/N).

Kyoya smiled “innocently.” “That would hardly be in the Christmas spirit.”

“And you’re embracing it now?” said (Y/N), amused.

“Why not?” said Kyoya. His smile turned slightly more genuine. “It’s not my tree they’re going on.”

“Okay, then.” (Y/N) smiled. “If you’re going to help pay, then you have to help pick. That’s the rule.”

“Very well,” said Kyoya, oddly endeared.

“Now, Tamaki first,” said (Y/N).

“Obviously the crown,” said Kyoya. “He insists on calling himself the ‘King.’ ”

“He does,” chuckled (Y/N), picking up the ornament. “Oh, here’s a piece of cake.”

“Honey, undoubtedly,” said Kyoya.

“His is the most obvious,” said (Y/N). “And a katana for Mori. I’ll hang them together.”

“How about the comedy and tragedy masks for the twins?” said Kyoya.

“I like it,” said (Y/N), adding to the small pile. “I think the vase for Haruhi.”

Kyoya smirked. “Very appropriate.”

(Y/N) chuckled. “Now it’s you…Hm…Glasses or journal. Both are just so you. Or how about a snake? You are the Shadow King, and everyone knows you plant all of the ideas for Tamaki.”

“Amusing. Should you be the seventies disco ball based on your style, then?” said Kyoya with the same smile of innocence.

“You joke, but I like it,” said (Y/N). “And I’m choosing the snake for you.”

“I certainly can’t stop you,” said Kyoya. Except he could. He was paying, after all. But he wouldn’t.

“You can’t because it’s Christmas,” said (Y/N), smiling.

“I guess I did get into the spirit somewhat,” said Kyoya, handing them the disco ball ornament. His hand brushed theirs. “Merry Christmas, (Y/N).”

“Merry Christmas, Kyoya. Thanks for going around with me,” said (Y/N).

“Of course. Anytime.” Strangely enough, Kyoya meant it.

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@girgal73

@rockerica

@nosoyyo1213

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@introvertathome

@chaseyui

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fullofgutsndopamine · 7 months ago

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Happy Holidays (Let’s Hope For The Best)

or: You always hated the holidays. Schlatt tries to change your mind

originally posted on a different blog of mine. i’m well aware it’s september.

i hope you enjoy! I've never written for Schlatt before, so I hope it's okay and i got his voice right

tw/cursing, angst if you squint, ‘jay’ for schlatt

schlatt knew your hatred towards the holidays.

long winded rants when you were less than sober, talking with your hands about how this holiday had become more on gifts than the actual spirit of christmas, the idea to stay in and be with your loved ones on a holiday-

and in his defense, for a long time, he listened.

eyes slanted as he slowly shook his head as you ranted, an occasional, “yeah, no. right-“ so you know he’s listening.

it started small, he didn’t force it.

“Jay,” The sigh is evident in your voice, “what the fuck is this?”

you hold the tiny culprit in your hand, a miniature snowman, made of ceramic and chipped with age, no larger than your palm.

"What do you-" He sets his phone down, eyebrows one, genuinely confused for a second before the smallest smile you've ever seen pulls gently at the tips, threatening to actually smile-

"Jay." You say gently, simply.

He gives himself away.

"I dunno who would do that," He shrugs, eyebrows knit as he stares at his phone again, "Especially knowing they live with the actual Grinch."

"Do you?" You tease, hope he doesn't see as you pocket the snowman, bury him deep into your jean pockets, a new lucky charm for you. Some of the ice melts away, slowly, a little crack falls off, but you wouldn't let him know that.

"Yeah," He snorts, pads over to the couch where you sit, wiggles his toes to be buried under your thighs, "Tried to fuckin' evict 'em, but it was too much work."

Days pass, and you almost forget about it.

Every time you slip into the jeans for work, you remember the small snowman buried deep into your pocket, rub it like its some sort of worry doll.

The snowman was the first, but not the last.

Second, it was the creepy santa soap dispenser shoved in the corner by your sink in the bathroom. Schlatt left the rest of the bathroom untouched, and when you squeeze it into your hand, your immediately hit with the smell of marshmallows.

“who the fuck is putting christmas shit out?” he says again, bites his lip to hide the smile, “Especially in the grinch’s lair.”

“yeah,” you tease back, “and i used it and it smelled like fuckin’ marshmallows.”

“marshmallows?!” he buffs, ��that’s it, i’m writing the landlord.”

and he kisses the crown of your head and pads downstairs.

from then on, he gets bolder.

You come home and he’s gently wrapping christmas lights around the bush in the front yard, sees you coming and speaks first: “to keep the fuckin’ kids away.” with a wink, as if he has something figured out.

he has a stupid santa hat on top of a baseball cap, teetering, threatens to fall off any second, and his face is pink from the cold, his fingertips are ice and it’s obvious, from how lit up the house looks, that he’s spent a lot of time planning and putting this together.

“I don’t think that’s how it works.” you tease back, grabbing him by his coat and pulling him in for a kiss.

“what?!” he yells back, “that’s not how it fuckin’ works?! shit!” he teases back, the smile gives him away.

when you pull away, he takes the santa hat off his own head, shoves it over yours, and turns away, back to the bushes with a smile on his face.

You make your way inside, towards the kitchen to make him some hot chocolate to enjoy as the temperature falls more, and the sun slowly sets, and act as if you don’t see the mistletoe in the threshold of all the rooms, or the lights hanging around, even the little christmas village knick knacks that hang onto every surface-a post office shoved into the corner of the kitchen, and Santa’s Workshop sits in the front room-

days pass again, and you finally give in.

“Look,” you lean against the door as Schlatt comes in, a mixing bowl against his hip and a kiss the cook apron around his waist. “promise me you won’t make this a big deal.”

“okay,” he licks his lips, nods, “that’s ominous as fuck.”

“Just-sit on the couch, close your eyes, and promise to not make a big deal about it.” you grab him by the hand and gently lead him to the couch, have him sit on the edge of it and lift his hand so it rests over his eyes.

Schlatt bites his lip to keep from smiling as he hears something being dragged against the floor of the living room, before you speak again, obviously out of breath from the mini work out.

“Okay, don’t read into this,” you say one last time, “Open your eyes.”

he obeys, slowly blinks them open and sees the cardboard half busted tree box, and lets out a loud laugh: “Guess the grinches heart did grow two sizes larger, hm?”

he stands, pulls you close and kisses you on the lips, his voice drops, which is rare, his voice comes back gentle, which is also rare, means he means what he’s about to say, listen up: “I’m glad you changed your mind. Was worried id gone to far.”

you snort, “You? too far? never.” and your voice drops as well, “besides, had to give in eventually. make new traditions with you, or something right?”

you’re obviously referencing to the first few weeks of December, when he all but begged for at least a free, a string of lights-something, anything-is use to these lavish holiday traditions-only to be met by your stubbornness, the sting and ache of lonely holidays, another regular day too much for you-

“we can make new traditions,” he insisted one night, curled into you in the too small bed, the only light coming from the street light outside that flares into your eyes if you move your head the wrong way, “it doesn’t have to all be bad. let me help-“

“leave it, Jay,” you huff, shake your shoulders so his chin falls off form your shoulder as you flip to face the wall, sick of this discussion.

“that’s right-“ he smiles, surprised you were listening, “that’s exactly right, yeah.”

And he helps you drag the box into the corner, sets up his phone to play all his favorite christmas music, tells these stories of songs he loved growing up, doing certain activities to certain songs-

The music plays and though it doesn’t cal for it, Schlatt stops you every once in awhile, spins you around on your heels and dips you to a song, only for you to stand back up straight and slowly hang up the small collection of ornaments he stock piled away.

The night ends with cookies in the kitchen, the pre made kind that he bought the day after halloween and you kept shoving further and further back to try and forget of their existence, little cherry santa’s with crooked hats and little snowman placed on a tray as you two wait for them to be done, suddenly little kids again, the excitement of waiting up all night to try and find santa hangs in the air-

schlatt plates the cookies, makes hot chocolate and pads to the front room, throws a blanket over the two of you as you clink cookies together as a gentle cheers, settling on whatever movie hallmark is playing, even if it’s half way done.

schlatt is quiet next to you, plays with your hair as you rest your head on his chest, enjoying the sight of your new tree before you crane your neck to look up at him-

“i think i like our tradition now.”

he smiles, runs the pads of his thumb over your face gently, “Yeah? You a christmas fan yet?”

and you want to say the truth, how it’s hard not to be when your in his presence, how it’s hard to not smile and want to embrace every cliche, but instead you snort: “let’s not get carried away.”

he rolls his eyes, “of course not,” but his voice drops as he drops his head, rests his lips against your forehead as he speaks: “Im glad you’re enjoying it though, you deserve some good holiday memories instead.”

and he kisses your forehead as he settles back in, pulls the blanket togetber over you, and hangs you the obnoxious santa mug he had stored in the cabinet for you for when you finally came around

#caroline writes #jschlatt #schlatt #jschlatt fic #jschlatt fanfic #jschlatt fanfiction #jschlatt ff #jschlatt imagine #jschlatt x reader #jschlatt x you #jschlatt x y/n #schlatt x reader #schlatt x you #schlatt x y/n #schlatt fic #schlatt fanfic #schlatt fanfiction #schlatt imagine

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kazutora-kurokawa · 4 months ago

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TokRev Christmas HCs

♡ SFW, fluffy, final timeline au, gn reader (mostly about the characters and less about reader lol) ♡

note: A day late but Merry Christmas (and whatever other holidays y'all celebrate 💕) hope everyone had a good time yesterday and it wasn't too stressful, now let's jump into a lot of headcanons lol

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🎁 Mikey goes outside as soon as it starts snowing, he could spot a little snowflake out the corner of his eyes and he's immediately calling everyone outside

🎁 Takemichi used to go outside without a jacket all the time and always regretted not listening to his mom when she told him to put one on

🎁 If Pah is standing under a mistletoe he won't even notice, Peh has to explain (and scream) what the mistletoe means

🎁 Kazutora and Hanma carry around mistletoe and hold it over your head to get you to kiss them

🎁 Baji and Chifuyu dress up Peke J in a little elf costume and end up with multiple cat scratches (worth it tho)

🎁 Peke J also loves messing with the decorations on the tree, twice as annoying as any toy with a bell in it

🎁 Shinichiro always decorates the Christmas tree in the Sano household (with Izana and Emma's help ofc) and one year, Mikey was half asleep and walked into it, knocking the entire tree over and putting a hole in the wall

🎁 Mikey can never reach the Christmas decorations, so he throws his sandal at the box and knocks it off the shelf (and it falls on him lmao)

🎁 Koko and Inui (and Akane) always spend Christmas with Taiju, Hakkai, and Yuzuha, even when they tell Taiju they have other plans (loyalty to the boss fr)

🎁 Mitsuya makes Taiju a shark plushie and he almost cries

🎁 Mitsuya makes scarves, hats, and gloves for a lot of Toman members (even when he knows they probably won't wear them)

🎁 Mitsuya also makes stuff for his sisters and mom because he's just an absolute sweetheart

🎁 Izana and Kakucho still make snow forts like they did when they were younger, except now they do it with the rest of Tenjiku and the kids they take care of

🎁 Takemichi and Hina have accidentally gotten each other the same thing at least three times and they pretend that they planned to match

🎁 The Toman captains and vcs do a secret Santa gift exchange and Nahoya and Baji just steal stuff from the person they have to get a gift for and give it back disguised as an actual present

🎁 Nahoya and Souya bake cookies for the Toman captains and vcs and put them in cute little gift bags

🎁 Takeomi doesn't really like Christmas (Grinch ass mf) but he tries to make it fun for Senju and Haru

🎁 Wakasa loves Christmas because he always gets gifted fancy candy and chocolates

🎁 Benkai puts Waka on his shoulders so he can put a star on top of the tree

🎁 December is Akkun, Chifuyu, and Makoto's birthday month, so they all get double presents

🎁 Kisaki buys Hanma a new motorcycle and Hanma never lets him live it down

"Aww, you do love me Kisaki ♡"

"Shut up you freak." - a flustered Kisaki

🎁 Everyone goes to Takemichi's for Christmas and damn near wreck his house (Michi just can't get a break can he?)

🎁 One Christmas, Kazutora got a letter from his father and proceeded to burn it (as he should), then him and Baji tracked him down and busted his car windows out

🎁 Toman always takes a bunch of pictures during Christmas and Emma prints them out and puts them in little photo books to gift to them

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Taglist

@arlerts-angel @i-literally-cant-with-this @trevengersprincess @giugiette @katkusuo @happy-trenchcoated-impala @drunkcheesecake @darkstarlight82 @reiners-milkbiddies @manji-hoe @southside-otaku @xxchthonicreaturexx @evergreen-endo @hanmaslilslut @dystop4in14nd @mysouleaten @mdsbabygirl

#tokyo revengers headcanons #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers fluff #I miss my babies fr 😭

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yourdadsbasement · 4 months ago

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oh my who could have foreseen that something zach made is secretly a robot

the face you make when you're about to be run over by a baby elephant (i love that he's still wearing the santa hat)

now don't be a Grinch, zach

nooooo those baby animals don't need to be IN SPACE on Christmas they should be back with their parents!

i am glad they got to have their christmas party and are not stuck on an ice flow in the Arctic

i 100% agree that musk oxen should be more part of the holiday season, they should be on as much merchandise as Rudolph

#wild kratts #martin kratt #chris kratt #kratt brothers #wk live blogging #wk marathon #aviva corcovado #jimmy z #wk koki #zach varmitech #donita donata #gaston gourmand #wk dabio #a creature christmas #part two

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boolger · 4 months ago

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I just want a cowgirl for Christmas

Kate Laswell x f!reader💖 MDNI 💖one shot

Idk how to explain why they’re all in America and all cowboys coded but I can explain that I’ve had the song “cowgirl for Christmas” by Drake Milligan stuck in my head since last Christmas/jul. So like, happy holidays if you celebrate any kind of thing this month or upcoming months. 💖Happy holidays the entire year actually ily all my sinners, y’all have been very loving to me this year for some reason and it has made life a lil funnier in many ways. Anyways, hopefully I’ll be able to post something else than this before jul but who the fuck knows. Kate deserves a lil lady for Christmas, she gotta meet that wife somehow ya know. 💖 I’ve done my best to keep the description vague so we can all pretend to be Kate’s Christmas love. However, reader is described as she/her. Uh, this was supposed to be much longer, but time and mental health - and I have to deal with my family lmao

💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

The bar is almost empty. It doesn’t surprise Kate that much; it’s the 19th of December after all and people need to buy the last couple of Christmas presents if they celebrate that shit. The snow falls outside, giving her boots a nice crunch whenever she moves around in it. Collected by the cowboy hat on top of her head whenever she walks around. But it’s warm in the bar and the alcohol is good as she nurses her second glass, well aware she is gonna have to walk home through that shitty shoe, most likely freezing her ass off on the way.

She is off work, has no responsibilities until next year forces her back in the uniform at the base. In fact, she has no plans at all - on purpose.

“Ya’ look miserable, Laswell,” Alex said, stopping in front of her with a cup of coffee, with a bit of milk in… Kate suspected there were her usual two sugar cubes in.

And that was the truth, wasn’t it? She was miserable and she had absolutely no plans of changing it. A grinch, a sad, lonely woman who purposely drowned her feelings in the local bar, forced to listen to the Christmas songs and people’s chatter in the background.

“I didn’t order this,” she replied, looking up at the man, squinting at his amused smile, “‘nd I’m not miserable.”

“Sure you’re not,” Alex replied, “and it’s on the house - Farah says I have to be nice to you these days.”

Kate huffed, embarrassed over how even Alex’s wife knew of her pitiful behaviour.

“Thank you,” she replied instead of being mean.

“You’re welcome - and you know you're always welcome at ours at Christmas, sweetie,” it was a soft reminder, an offer that you knew he might hope that you would agree to.

“Nah, thanks though,” she managed to give him a smile, instead taking a sip of the coffee, running a hand over the brim of the cowboy hat next to her on the counter, “I’ll stay with the troublemakers at home.”

Said troublemakers were the two horses at her little farm. In truth, it wasn’t those that were a problem - it was merely an excuse to wallow in self pity at home, due to the loneliness that grew in her bones around every Christmas she spent with her friends.

They all had partners by now. Johnny and Simon had their shared wife who was pregnant once more, little Tommy almost three by now. Kyle had been with his girlfriend for three years by now and she suspected one of them would propose soon - probably her, as Kyle seemed to be too shy about it, busy looking for a house to give her. John and Nikolai were close to getting their adoption papers finished, she knew that, so they could give them to their two boys at Christmas, the two boys that they had fostered for the last four years.

It was this - all the love surrounding her, all the joy, all the time they had been together in which Kate had been like now; alone.

She took another sip of the coffee before nursing her whiskey instead - another song starting up and Kate’s eyes flickered close for a moment.

Don't want a set of shiny new spurs

A seat for my saddle, a rope for the herd

Kate huffed at the lyrics, emptying her whiskey before asking Alex for one more, ignoring the sound of the door to the bar opening and closing again.

Santa, I don't need a sleigh full of gifts

There's only one thing on my Christmas list

He filled up her glass, while looking over your shoulder with a grin as Kate listened to the boots moving across the door.

“Hi again, sweetheart,” Alex greeted and Kate finally pulled herself together, looking over her shoulder.

I want a cowgirl for Christmas this year

A cowboy sure gets lonely way out here

Kate had never seen a more beautiful woman in her entire life, wearing cowboy boots, a big coat and jeans as she pulled off her knitted hat, a thin layer of white snow on her clothes.

Wrap her up in jeans and boots

Send her down to me from you

I just want a cowgirl for Christmas

Kate was sure the most perfect being ever existed had just blessed her own sinful soul with your mere presence - Kate wasn’t even sure she was worthy of breathing in the same air as the newcomer.

“Hiya Alex,” oh, lord, even your voice made Kate want to smile, though she didn’t want to come off creepy, so she looked forward again, taking a sip of the whiskey, “can I get a beer?”

I need a little lady, little lady, little lady, little lady, little lady, hoo

I want a little lady, little lady, little lady, little lady, little lady, hoo

“Sure thing,” Alex replied, charming smile on his face as always, “gonna join Laswell ‘ere and mope over Christmas?”

Kate spluttered, sending Alex a nasty stare as he had just betrayed her; pushed her in front of the bus filled with embarrassment and Kate knew her cheeks were growing red. Goddamn Keller.

Ropes and rides right by my side

With starry eyes that sparkle, arms to keep me warm at night

“I am not moping, Alex,” Kate grumbled but she felt herself light up a little, straightening her back as the sound of the cowboy boots came to stand next to her.

“Well, I ain’t really moping too much either,” you said and Kate dared to look over at you as you rested against the counter right next to her, “but I wouldn’t mind joining you?”

That's all I need this Christmas Eve

I just want a cowgirl for Christmas, aha

“Sure,” Kate managed before clearing her throat, “you’re more than welcome to. I - uh, I’m Kate Laswell.”

God she was pathetic at this - she hadn’t flirted with somebody forever and you looked like you had just stepped out of a lesbian cowgirl’s wet dream… perhaps her own.

She offered you her hand and you took it, your fingers a little cold from the outside.

“Nice to meet ya’, Kate,” you replied, your eyes seeming like they sparkled as you told her your name. Kate couldn’t help but imagine your hair against her bedsheets, her fingers running along that pretty body of yours.

“Likewise,” Kate smiled, straightening her back a little as Alex gave you the beer, before he sent Kate a wink. Asshole.

“You new in town?” She added, focusing back on you.

“Yeah,” you took a sip of the beer, a pretty line of white foam laying along your upper lip until you licked it off with your pink tongue, “moved in nearby two weeks ago. Been busy, though.”

“Ah,” Kate nodded along, “explains why I haven’t seen you, then.”

You looked younger than herself and for a moment, she felt like an old pervert. She was 39 and you looked like you were 25 maybe. It both sent sparks of lust through her - together with the feeling of being dirty. Simping, a word Soap had said, for a younger woman.

“Likewise,” you answered, adding a soft “I would have remembered.”

Were you… flirting with her? Kate felt herself blush as if she was a teenager and not a grown up woman. As if she wasn’t much older than you - fuck, it made her feel dirty, in a way she couldn’t describe. Yet it made butterflies flutter inside her stomach, flying around the flowers that had suddenly bloomed.

“ are what doing this Christmas you?” The words almost tumbled out of her mouth, unable to be said in the right order, her lungs filled with a feeling she hadn’t felt for a while, “I uhm- I mean, what are you doing this Christmas?”

You didn’t laugh, but you smiled so sweetly, almost lovingly and Kate was sure she wouldn’t be able to stand with the rush of emotions that went through her at it.

“Not much,” you admitted, your finger playing with the rim of the beer glass, though you didn’t take your gaze of her, “don’t know anybody here - what about you?”

“Not much either,” Kate breathed, “want to uhm - maybe hang out?”

She had never felt as ridiculous as now; in fact she wanted to slam her head into the counter - maybe run away. Even if the town buried her, it wouldn’t be enough. The pure embarrassment of asking a stranger, a hot, beautiful stranger, like that, to spend Christmas with her. Had she gone mad? Perhaps it was the alcohol.

“I’m so sorry,” she hurried to say, “I - you don’t know me, that was inappropriate of me an—“

“I would like that.”

Which such simple words, you made her heart beat a little bit more normal, you made her able to breath again, her throat able to untangle.

“I - yeah?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed with a warm smile and for the first time in years, Kate felt as if Christmas might not be that bad this year.

I just want a cowgirl for Christmas.

#boolger #my writing #fanfiction #call of duty #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic #cod lesbian #kate laswell cod #kate laswell x reader #kate laswell #lesbian fanfic #call of duty Kate Laswell

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