#Novelty holiday ornaments | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jiminrings · 11 months ago

Text

fail-safe

pairing: yoongi x reader

wordcount: 8k

glimpse: growing up, your brother's best friend always berated you for not having a passion in life outside of loving him from afar. when yoongi leaves everything he's ever known for everything he's ever wanted, trying to move on from him becomes your biggest aspiration.

alternatively, yoongi left when you needed him the most, and comes back home at a time when you love him the least.

[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale ]

[ a Lot of angst, eventual fluff, brother's best friend AND single dad au, So Much Yearning, unrequited love (initial), jealousy, self-deprecation, a lot of talk abt passion in an empty n hurtful way that most impassioned youngest children feel (it's a specific feeling idk!!!), eventual redemption in the next parts ]

notes: finally got to writing a new series!!! i'm beyond excited for this + this whole new concept and flow i haven't touched on before <3 i hope u love fail-safe as much as i do :-)

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! | series masterlist

Yoongi buys atleast one scratch ticket a week.

The accessibility of buying one is top-notch considering that all he has to do is cross the street, shoot one look to the cashier, and he can either already go hunch in the corner of the road or in the comfort of his room. The moment his coin takes its first dig and he realizes that he’s won yet again, he’s satisfied enough not to buy another ticket.

He doesn’t want to risk losing the win he’s just gained, the odds of him throwing out money besting his chances in adding to his earnings. He thinks everyone’s a little greedy one way or another, but it’s the righteous part of him that thinks he’s different.

You do think that he is for all the right reasons, your vision only tunneling for him alone. He’s this fixed older figure in your life and you can’t figure out how to shrug him off — he’s this generous leech that sucks all of the rationality from your mind but returns it to you twofold, whether in the form of him saying something unintentionally endearing that it makes your chest hurt, or through him having to lightly smack the back of your head.

Yoongi’s your older brother’s best friend and there’s a novelty tag that comes with him, one that can’t be topped by any material possession to your name. He’s there for you, not in the exact way you want him to be, but nonetheless there. He’s special and unattainable at the same time, the finiteness of his love barely extending to you.

He’s there when you want him to burn the latest songs onto a CD you’ve spent all your allowance in, and he’s there when you get annoyed that he sneaked some of his own recommendations in there. You’re there when you later admit that his suggestions aren’t half-bad, and you also happen to be there when he grins at the praise.

He’s there when Namjoon won’t cough up the last slice of his cutlet, not because he’ll actually give you his, but because he’ll help your brother guard his plate. You’d only have to mope for a solid of three seconds before the two of them give up both of their last slices, and you’re there when Yoongi insists for you to try the sauce in the spirit of going out of your routine.

You don’t need Yoongi every single time but in the event that you do, he hangs back. He contemplates and hesitates and doesn’t give in to every single whim that you have, but he’ll be there. He lingers like the last holiday ornament you don’t want to remove until it’s February, his presence being oddly similar to your favorite festivities.

Yoongi’s the equivalent of a holiday you look forward to with each passing month and day; he comes around to and for you in instances, but never even in your most sincere wishes.

“I buy one scratch ticket a week — three if I’m really feeling lucky. When my palms itch, that’s when I know that I really need to buy them.”

He’s calm and collected even when you’re scrunching your nose up at him in combined worry and disbelief, humming mindlessly as you collect your thoughts. He randomly told you about his lottery routine and you’re still trying to wrap your head around how he blows his money off just easily. Yoongi has the mind to put scrap cardboard under you because sitting on the hot concrete with your uniform on can’t possible be a good idea, but you try to play off your fluster into stubbornness.

He’s just playing with his two ever-present coins (lucky charms as he calls them)— one that’s shiny and minted in the present year, the other being the oldest coin he’s ever had that happens to be older than he is — while you mutter about.

“I don’t know, Yoongs. That might be a gambling problem,” you squint, your side comment being heard clearly as day. “Might be the symptoms for hand, foot, and mouth disease too.”

“What— I do not have a gambling problem! My skin’s perfectly fine too, thanks,” he defends, the light shove he gives you doing nothing to tone down your teasing.

“That’s what people with gambling problems say.”

“Give me that-…” he mutters, trying to wrestle you for the sundae he bought you using the money he won from his scratch ticket just awhile ago. You don’t give in easily, even if your laughs that come straight from your chest suggest otherwise. “You don’t get it. It’s just this nice, fun little thing I can look forward to every week. I always buy the cheapest version anyway so when I lose, it’s not a big deal.”

You relent (like you always do when it comes to Yoongi) in understanding, waving him off after regaining your breath. “Nah. I get it. We all have to do things so we wouldn’t lose our shit,” you trail, racking your head to find the right words.“Yours is buying scratch tickets, and mine is-…”

“Yours is what?” Yoongi raises an eyebrow, lips quirked in eagerness to know where you’re going with this. He can’t pinpoint a single thing he can attach to you and neither can you, your actual interests merely reflecting those of the people whom you love.

You love cross-stitching because your mom loves doing it, the tolerance you have for accidentally being pricked by the needle growing over time.

You enjoy playing badminton because Namjoon’s obsessed with the sport, no matter how ratty your rackets and shuttlecocks have become, and no matter how much he pushes you to ring the doorbell to your neighbor’s when he’s sent it flying to their backyard.

You’re probably an imposter yet you don’t feel like it. You don’t feel bad that your life most probably and will only revolve around your mom and Namjoon (maybe even Yoongi); you don’t feel dissatisfied that your life’s mundane.

You go where your love goes.

“Mine is watching you buy scratch tickets,” you shrug easily as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, making him laugh heartily. You’ve probably done something right because he hauls you up to your feet immediately.

“Get up. I’m buying you your first ticket,” he nudges you, grabbing you by the arm in excitement.

“But I’m not even legal!” you half-heartedly argue, internally excited that you’re finally getting to try your hand at the lottery because you’ve spent a few hundred minutes of your life tuned to the channel to pass the time, awaiting the results for something you haven’t even betted for.

“Right. Like I haven’t seen you trying to squeeze out a drop of beer from our empty cans whenever Namjoon and I drink.”

“Rude,” you roll your eyes playfully, gathering your things from the ground.

“It’s okay. I’ll give you your first sip of beer too if you want,” Yoongi offers sincerely; easily as if you’ve just asked him about the weather.

He’s here to buy you your first scratch ticket, and he’s still here to offer giving you your first sip of liquor in the future.

Your family friend for a cashier vehemently ignores the fact that you’re still underage to participate in the lottery, and instead only chuckles to herself in amusement. She’s an aunt that knows when to step in and not to, and she knows you won’t be harmed by a mere bet. In fact, she knows you won’t be harmed by anything with Yoongi in tow.

“I already used up all my change,” your frown in realization, holding the ticket in your hands in despair despite having scoured your wallet repeatedly.

��Rub it against the pavement. That’s what I do,” Yoongi lies fluidly, a scoff being caught in his throat when you actually attempt to do it. “I was only kidding, Y/N. Jeez,” he groans, pulling out his wallet. “Ugh. Here. You can have one of my lucky coins.”

It’s the old one, tarnished beyond relief that you can barely recognize what it’s actual value is supposed to be.

“Ew. I’m giving it back. It looks prehistoric,” you narrow your eyes, knowing that you don’t even have to put your fingers nears your nose to know that it’s already left a faint stench on them.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, a habit he can’t tell he’s formed himself or got from you. “If you use your brain for one second, you’d realize that it’s actually worth more because it’s older. Collectors would go crazy for that in the future.”

“That sounds like a hoarding problem.”

He’s just had about enough of your whining so he attempts to trade in the old coin for his lucky new one, but you stop him at the last minute with a meek smile.

“Kidding. Thank you. I’ll keep it safe, Yoongi. I promise,” you rush out before he changes his mind, scratching your ticket in silence.

He waits for you because you’re scratching so politely and neatly, a stark opposite to his experienced skill of scratching the paint off in ten strokes or less.

Your face is too close to the ticket that Yoongi can’t tell what’s happening, making him part your hair like a curtain to peek.

“Did you win?”

“Nope.”

“Let me throw that out for you.”

“No!” you squeak, keeping the ticket close to your chest. It’s a bummer that your first time is a loss, but it didn’t mean that you wanted to forget the sentiment behind it. “I-I mean no, I’ll keep it. It’s memorable now that I think about it.”

“Alright,” he shrugs carelessly, a smile breaking out in retaliation. “Hoarder.”

“Gambler,” you spit, tucking the ticket into your pencil case. “Next week again?”

Yoongi agrees, wrapping his head around the fact that he doesn’t have to be alone in his little routine every Friday.

“Sure.”

( ♡ )

You don’t mind getting hand-me-downs.

As a matter of fact, you love receiving them. The wear and tear of the things that came before you is only proof that it’s been loved enough to be passed on to you.

You adore your mother’s dainty vintage watch that she wore throughout college, the hardware and sentiment behind it being pretty enough that you don’t mind constantly getting the battery replaced. You like Namjoon’s shirts that he’s outgrown, even through the numerous phases he’s had wherein only denim and tie-dye filled his closet.

You don’t mind the history behind the numerous things you have in your home, unbothered that you’re probably the only house in the block with the oldest possible rice cooker. The chips in the staircase aren’t covered up with marker ink and neither are the loose stitches in the couch quilt snipped off. It’s home to your mother and Namjoon — if it’s good enough for them, then it’s already the best for you.

Even on top of everything, you don’t mind your family almost always getting you shirts and shoes that have an allowance in them. Your mom would go to Seoul and pick out the exact pair of sneakers you wanted that are atleast three sizes bigger than your actual feet, and you’d barely bat an eye.

You don’t mind the coziness of things that are brought to you, because even if they weren’t offered, you’d seek them yourself.

So when Yoongi mentioned that he’s decluttering his room and needed someone (read: you) to vacuum it up for him, you jump at the chance. You take a grocery bag with you, wear the nearest pair of slippers within your vicinity, and book it to his house as soon as he finished talking.

“Go crazy, kid. Almost everything in that pile is garbage so you can take anything.”

“I feel like I should be more offended than how I feel right now,” you hum, furrowing your eyebrows at the pile in front of you. It’s a mound of Yoongi, or atleast everything he’s ever wanted up until he decided to do a general cleaning of his bedroom.

Yoongi chuckles, going through his pile of clean laundry for him to fold on the side while you scavenge for his things. “It’s either I have you take them or I get ripped off at the thrift store, then I see somebody’s uncle wearing my shirt as an added insult.”

You huff, rummaging through his heap of belongings while conveniently trying to ignore that you may look like somebody’s uncle the moment you wear his clothes. Everything is him; every distressed cap, every unfinished embroidered shirt, and every item of old significance with his initials branded on it.

The thick gray hoodie you’ve been eyeing (along with its owner) for the better part of the last few years surfaces into your field of vision, your gasp audible enough to make him jolt because he thought you’d gotten hurt.

“No way, this too? But this is your favorite,” you half-complain and half-rejoice, turning the hoodie inside-out eagerly in the fear that there’s a catch to it belonging in the pile.

“Eh. I know it looked good on me but I don’t think it’s my favorite. Besides, I’ve bulked up! Wanna feel?” Yoongi grins, his segue eerily similar to your brother’s at every given chance. A neighbor from down the block recently opened a small-time gym, and the both of them have not been able to shut their mouths about it since. From their gossiping alone, Yoongi and Namjoon have generated enough advertising already.

“You and Namjoon really have to stop asking random people to feel your biceps.”

There’s random knick-knacks throughout the clump in the middle of his bed, some being too good and actually useful that you snag them. Yoongi lets you do what you want anyways (most of the time), not having to turn his head to berate you on what you’re only allowed to grab from his stuff.

You’re not greedy — you already have his hoodie and that should be enough on its own. But there’s that handkerchief with his initials embroidered on it, then that Rubik’s cube he swore his relative got for him from New York, and even the little butterfly knife he got from a souvenir shop when his family when to the beach.

There were those and there is this, looking up at you in all of its glory.

“Yoongi.”

“What now?” he sighs at your dramatic gasp, looking up from his folded laundry to see what you were going on about. It takes a second for him to fully realize why exactly were you so pumped.

“Are you serious? Your helmet?” you squeal, already hugging the shiny red mass close to you. “Does this mean you’re passing your motorcycle to me?!”

“Are you crazy? Fuck no,” Yoongi rolls his eyes, snatching his helmet back from you. He doesn’t miss the bratty frown that fills up your entire face; he’s not exactly the biggest fan whenever you were upset or angry; maybe even both. “Obviously I forgot I even put my helmet there when I made that pile.”

You whine, stomping your feet in exasperation. You would dramatically plop down on his bed if only it wasn’t full of his shit. “Come on! You told me you were teaching me as soon as you finish teaching Joon.”

“Teaching you how to ride my scooter is not the same as giving you it. Why would I just hand you what I bought with my hard-earned money?” Yoongi scrunches his nose, tone sharper than what he intended.

“But you still haven’t taught me,” you murmur to placate yourself and dissuade yourself from the delusion that Yoongi would even exert such an effort for you because of course — why would he do that for you?

You have an inkling that you’re being irrational for all the wrong reasons, perhaps even projecting your need to be looked after… by him.

Yoongi notices your mood that turned sour quickly, the silence between you becoming loaded. He didn’t mean to be that blunt. “I don’t think you’re even old enough to have your driving permit,” he adds in consolation, voice considerably softer.

You snicker lowly, still looking at your feet with your arms crossed. “But I’m old enough to backpack whenever you need me to carry shit that can’t fit in your carrier.”

He immediately groans at your comeback, his furrowed eyebrows mirroring yours. “You’re so stubborn.”

“You’re a hypocrite,” you retort, knowing for a fact he’s known how to drive even before he was eligible for permits and licenses and whatnot.

Yoongi takes one, two seconds to himself to regain his composure, clearing his head in the process. You’re still not looking at him and you’re pouting and you don’t even notice the latter, making him crack a small smile.

“I will teach you next week.”

“Oh my-…”

He cuts you off, raising his hand in emphasis. “Provided that you listen to everything I say and wear full gear at all times. You clearly don’t have a job yet-…”

“Ouch.”

“And I don’t have the extra money to buy full gear for myself, so what you’ll do is bundle up with your padded coat and the thickest jeans you have,” Yoongi enunciates every word, eyes keenly on you. They’re too wide and alert, you actually feel like listening to him.

“You go on rides wearing your pajamas.”

“Just say ‘thank you, Yoongi’.”

“You haven’t done anything yet,” you trail off, head tilting in confusion.

You’ve had a million conversations like this with Yoongi before but of different fonts; worn, familiar, and warm.

“Thank you, Yoongi,” he mouths, nodding at you to do the same. He won’t stop until you utter them back to him, and you know you won’t go home either without giving him your gratitude as you always do.

“Thank you, Yoongi,” you relent, the grin that breaks through your lips being infectious enough that he laughs lowly to himself.

He exhales all the worries he has and could possibly ever have seeing you ride the motorcycle (or for you yearning to do everything that he does), grasping at whatever sanity he has left from looking after you.

“You can have the helmet.”

( ♡ )

Yoongi knows the ins and outs of your home.

He’s been at your house too much to the point that your mom already gave him a spare key and nobody batted an eye about it. He has his own designated slippers at the entryway too, something you would only use in a hurry if you needed to sign off on a package.

Yoongi, for some reason unfathomable (not really; you can tell exactly why because your mom is an extremely warm and inviting person), also has the power of dibs on the food in your fridge. He’d put strips of masking tape with his name on food that’s neither brought in nor made for him in the first place.

It should be off-putting — the way that for too many yet too little reason, Yoongi has become a prominent figure in your life even if you didn’t ask him to. You should be peeved that you have to set up four plates more often that you set up only three; you should be annoyed at some point that when you wake up at random times through the night, you’re not totally alone to begin with.

You shouldbe angry at Yoongi to a degree because he’s in your life and you don’t get to have a say on how he stays in it. The only problem is that you’re not, and probably never will.

“Can’t sleep?” you mutter as you look up from your strikingly clear paper, seeing Yoongi strut across the floor with a casualness that only real occupants of the house should supposedly possess. He has his brows furrowed at you as if he didn’t expect to see you in your living room, scratching his head in wonder.

“Why are you up?”

“Stressed,” you sigh, giving up altogether in attempting to make yourself look busy. Yoongi drives by your fridge to get himself a can of beer, finally seating himself beside you on the floor.

“Stressed about what? I’m sure it’s not about studying,” he snorts, unsurprised at your paper and the clear lack of motivation behind it. You only roll your eyes at him and he has half a mind to not remind you to not do it so much, the frown in your face reminding him that you really were frustrated.

It is you to throw the occasional tantrum, but he remembers that it was only when you were young; when Namjoon would whisper gibberish to his ear and purposely not whisper to yours just so he could tease you, or when nobody would believe that you taught yourself how to ride a bike with no training wheels. You didn’t know how to do the latter at all, but what had made you throw a tantrum was that nobody believed you.

You notice Yoongi’s digs, of course. You notice each one of his more than unsubtle nods to your intelligence and whatnot, the shots at your intellect not flying over your head like he expected them to. You admit that you’ve never been that scholastic; you weren’t born a genius and you don’t try exactly hard either.

Yoongi’s only joking but you can’t help but to think that he’s pertaining to something deeper, his constant digs at your lack of a passion making you sluggish.

“We have to write this essay,” you answer simply, your tone straightforward and unwilling for banter but Yoongi bites anyway.

“But essays are the easiest,” he trails, looking at you the whole time as he takes a sip of his beer.

You exhale heavily because no matter what, he just can’t seem to get it. Yoongi knows where you’re coming from but he doesn’t know where you’re headed. As a matter of fact, you don’t know where you’re headed either. “We have to write an essay about where we see ourselves ten years from now.”

“But that’s still easy.”

“If it’s so easy, then go write it for me,” you snicker, leaning back with a huff. He constantly undermines you and although you own up to your striking mundaneness from time to time, it didn’t mean that you liked being looked down on. Yoongi’s too used to you being yourself, he gets taken aback when you grow sick of your own.

He gathers all his willpower, far from being sleepy unlike you who would’ve been lulled to sleep if only you weren’t dead-set on arguing with him. “You know what? I actually will,” he claps, handing you his beer. “Go hold this for me.”

Yoongi grips your pen for dear life like you hold his beer, his hand warm as he works from sheer determination alone (he’s not competing with anyone except for whatever expectation you have for him and your paper), while yours was cold just holding his drink.

You’ve been so quiet that he actually gets curious, turning his head to check to see if you’ve dozed off when actually, it’s just you eyeing the can.

“No one’s watching,” Yoongi breaks you out of your thoughts, carelessly shrugging. He cares and he’s far too concerned for you, but he figures that nothing would hurt you so long as he can grasp you. “It’s okay. You can have your first sip.”

You blink owlishly at him and when he jokes about taking it back, you take your first swig of beer in a panic. Yoongi only shakes his head in amusement, pausing his writing just to see the look on your face.

“One more?” he asks right after he sees you wince, the unbearable sweetness yet bitter, stinging aftertaste of the beer making you shudder.

You have the urge to wash off the taste with ice cold water (you’ll even drink from the tap because you’re so desperate), but you resist it just so you wouldn’t look like a weakling in front of him. You wave him off with a bitterness, upset that beer doesn’t taste like what you’ve always imagined it to be. “Just write my essay for me,” you mull over the taste in your tongue, in deep thought while you stare at Yoongi’s back ahead of you. “Do all beers taste that way?”

“Eh. Most of them do. You develop a taste for it later on,” he answers, taking the can back from you before drinking it himself. He looks too dedicated in writing your essay, only goading the curiosity in you to peek over his shoulder.

He knows you, both in heart and memory, because he shields your own paper from you when he sees your shadow hovering above him.

“Yoongi?”

“Hm.”

“I told you why I’m up. Why are you up?”

He’s silent entirely, the only indication that he heard your question being his hand pausing abruptly. Yoongi doesn’t answer, and you don’t ask again. “Don’t worry about it.”

You take his answer to heart, dozing off on the couch before you know it. You don’t remember a blanket being placed on you, nor can you remember preparing your backpack for school the next day.

Your paper’s neatly tucked into your portfolio bearing handwriting that’s clearly not yours, but with a sentiment that’s similar nonetheless. You read through everything quickly before even stepping towards your teacher, the tips of your fingers just as cold as Yoongi’s beer last night.

You’ve committed the paper into your memory, even until the last part with an excerpt you can’t forget despite having passed the paper already. You don’t know what to feel because it’s Yoongi who’s speaking for you, detailing that ten years from now, you will still be your mother’s daughter and your brother’s sister.

He wrote your essay either for you or in behalf of you, and you can’t tell which one is better.

Yoongi, who knows the ins and outs of your home and the peaks and troughs of your heart, writes in clear handwriting — Ten years from now, I will still be Yoongi’s rock.

( ♡ )

Surprisingly, Yoongi hasn’t been around that much lately.

Even Namjoon (who you consider as his Siamese twin) is clueless to why his friend hasn’t been hanging out with him lately to do either everything or nothing, confused because they’re enrolled to the same classes all the way to the same part-time jobs, yet Yoongi’s been mostly unavailable.

When Yoongi is, however, he doesn’t speak at all about his previous absences. He comes as if he’s never disappeared a few times before that, his evasion to talk about his presence being apparent even if you’ve asked him directly.

You’re getting used to his new routine of hanging out with you only when the both of you are free, no longer moving mountains for both of your schedules to line up. He’s more present this month than he was at the last, the criteria for it being how many times you bump into him in your own home.

Despite all odds and evens though, Yoongi can’t get used to your silence. He knows you hold grudges longer than your brother, and the last time that he checked, he knows you’ve already let go of your annoyance for him suddenly being unavailable without any explanation.

It’s late, only the two of you are awake in the living room, there’s ten scratch tickets on the table for you to share, and he’s even gotten you your own glass to which he’ll put a controlled amount (a grand total of two long sips) of his own beer in. You’re not stressing about an essay this time, but the unconscious pout on your face is still the same.

“You’re awfully quiet.”

The frown on your face only goes deeper at being found out, the scratch of your lucky coin being the only clear thing that Yoongi hears.

“My best friends want to have this slumber party,” you sigh, more upset about what you’ve just uttered than you are happy about the cash prize you’ve just won.

Yoongi takes what you say at face-value, groaning at his third straight loss for the night. “That’s great. Wear cute pajamas, snap a couple of polaroids, don’t be the first to fall asleep and last to wake up, and just keep a pocket knife with you when you’re going out by yourself.”

The awe (and slight concern) over what he said should roll in any time now.

You should be comforted at Yoongi’s words because they’re supposed to ease the swirl of your stomach, even if what he just said is a repackaged version of what your family said before. You should let go of your worries because Yoongi, of all people, says that it’s supposed to be great.

Instead, you feel neither of what you think Yoongi wants you to.

“Was it something I said?” he mumbles after some time, turning his nose up at you as he tries to retrace his words. “I have an extra pocket knife you can borrow if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“We’re gonna be talking about boys, Yoongi,” you screw your eyes shut, sighing into the palms of your hands with a heaviness. “We’re gonna talk about crushes and experiences and all that.”

He shudders at that, his reaction mirroring Namjoon’s when you tried opening up to him. You get your brother’s reaction to a degree, of course, because you feel as if you’d be disgusted too if the roles were reversed. You want to talk about it with your mom too, but at the end of the day, she’s your parent and you just can’t talk about anything and everything with her.

Yoongi’s your next plausible option.

“Do you want some ice cream right now? You know what, I’ll buy you-…” Yoongi tries to evade the topic altogether, his attempt of escaping feeble as you drag him down by his hoodie.

“I haven’t had my first kiss yet.”

“Heh.”

Yoongi shrugs at that, regaining his words when you deadpan at him. “So? What about it?”

You starfish on the floor at that out of frustration, the whine you’ve been bottling up coming out in the open because as usual, Yoongi doesn’t get it. “I-I’m probably the only one in my grade who hasn’t kissed someone yet! I can’t just lie carelessly because obviously, they’ll ask around.”

“So?” Yoongi chuckles, his breeze towards your state shocking you. “What’s it to them if you haven’t had your first kiss?”

“You don’t get it,” you grit through your teeth, crossing your arms so hard that it feels hard to inhale.

“I’m pretty sure I do,” he sing-songs, drinking the last of his beer. When you’re not looking though, he plans to either drink or chuck the remainder of your share because he doesn’t want you to develop a taste for it.

The anger you have for Yoongi bubbles up once again, the itch in your throat unbearable. You’re presented with the age gap between you once more, along with the raging emptiness in you that Yoongi’s reached so far and you’ve reached so little.

“You don’t get it because you’ve had all of these experiences when you were younger than my age right now,” you snap, although you don’t look at him when you do. If you do look at him though, you’ll only be reminded of how a face like his could have everything in this world — even a first kiss you’ve never had.

“Yeah, and so?” he knits his brows, growing defensive. You weren’t lying at all, but he still feels a little offended at the dig. He’s not not proud of it, but with the way you say it, it’s like you want him to burn in shame,

“Stop saying so,” you angrily mumble in frustration, a little breathless because you still don’t ease up on crossing your arms.

Yoongi straightens his posture, staring you down with his jaw set. He’s stern as he is, nostrils flaring in irritation. “No, Y/N. I’m genuinely asking — so what? What’s it to you if I had my first kiss at a younger age? What about it if everyone else in your grade has kissed someone and you haven’t? It’s not the end of the world.”

“I-I don’t know! It’s just unfair!” you let up, yielding to both the facts that Yoongi’s right with it not being the end of the world, and that you’re still entitled to feeling upset.

“Instead of spending time obsessing over your first kiss, maybe I don’t know, try being productive? You’re heading to college soon and you haven’t even thought of a career,” Yoongi goes off on you, making you roll your eyes automatically. There he goes again with the great big push of trying to push you into your supposed passions in life. “Someone else’s luck doesn’t mean it’s already your misfortune.”

“But it is.”

You say it so definitively, you almost convince him. You have your principles and so does Yoongi, but not everyone else. You have your principles yet you don’t have the luck. You’re not getting anywhere in life just like Yoongi or anyone else who was remotely born into wealth, no matter how quiet or obvious.

You can’t pursue something that interests you in the slightest without thinking what would come out of it. You can’t think of a degree and a course you’ll stick with, enough to do for the rest of your life because the only other option is to fail completely if you don’t. You have no plan and no passion and you don’t know if you’ll ever amount to anything to anyone at all.

By all means, you don’t agree with Yoongi this time. Someone else’s luck is your misfortune, in the same way that his first kiss doesn’t mean that it’s yours.

The sidetrack to your argument is a closed case already, judging by your downcast gaze. “I just have to put myself out there, that’s all. My first kiss doesn’t even have to mean anything. I just want to have it,” you admit, shoulders relaxing.

“Don’t,” Yoongi groans, the opposite of you as his whole body tenses.

He thinks that you don’t get him at all.

“What do you meandon’t?”

Your argument’s long-over (atleast you thought it was) but Yoongi’s getting more agitated by the minute, the disbelief on his face throwing you off. “Don’t do things just because you feel like you have to! Are you even hearing yourself right now?”

“I don’t want to be left behind, Yoongi! That’s all I’m trying to get at,” you raise your hands in surrender, shrugging thoughtlessly — it makes him want yell into a paper bag in exasperation. “I don’t want to be picked last. I don’t want to not be wanted.”

Yoongi exhales, screwing his eyes shut. It stays silent like that for a little while; him calming himself down, and you scratching your tickets. The calm doesn’t stay for long because you open your mouth carelessly, again.

“Can you be my first kiss?”

“Are you insane?”

“Ugh.”

You go back to your fourth scratch ticket, pouting in disappointment. You’re unfazed about the win that’s probably the largest sum you’ve had ever since you started doing the lottery.

You’re upset and you’re sick in the stomach but you stay silent like you never asked Yoongi to be your first kiss; it’s like you haven’t indirectly admitted to him that you love him enough, more than so, to want him to be your first.

You’re about to scratch the final ticket when Yoongi juts his hand out, fingers barely brushing yours to stop you.

“On second thought, don’t scratch that. Just keep it.”

“Because you want to turn me into a hoarder too?” you snicker, heeding his suggestion regardless.

“Because I’m not going to be right about everything,” Yoongi mumbles, looking at you with a solemnness you can’t decipher.

You try until the solemnness turns into pity.

“Still don’t want to be my first kiss?”

Yoongi softly laughs to your face, smiling as he lets you down — whether easily or harshly, you can’t tell.

“You already know what I’m going to say.”

( ♡ )

You’d like to think that you’re not kept in the dark about most things.

You already know that although your mom hasn’t had any relationships since your dad left, she still has plenty of suitors. Some of them are the reason why you have random food deliveries in the middle of the dinner that she’s already cooked, some have sucked up to her by getting you and Namjoon gifts.

You know about Namjoon’s growing love for football, even with the lessons he takes in secret because he didn’t want to trouble your mom for the money. It’s why he does his part-time job and why you’re looking for one anyways. You don’t want nor need much, so you almost always give him the remainder of your allowance by the end of each week.

Yoongi, on the other hand, you don’t know much about. You know that he’s an only child with a doting mom who works overseas and a rich but emotionally unavailable dad at home, and that’s about it. His home life is synonymous with yours, considering that your four walls have become an extension of his.

Maybe you’ve become too lenient on him — either that, or he’s become too disrespectful. It’s at times like these where your house is not his home, sickeningly so that you don’t want it to be yours either.

Yoongi is a sight to behold as he makes out with a half-naked girl on your bed, in your room. Your room has never been the neatest but with everything going on, it feels that it’s become the dirtiest that it’s ever been. Your house slippers are on the floor even if you always leave them by the entryway, and your sheets are a mess despite being one of the only things you try to keep folded in the room.

You’re angry, too much to the point that the words get caught in your throat. They catch onto bile and venom and everything at once, the strain in your voice heard when you yell.

“What the fuck?!”

Yoongi and the girl, whom you figure out to be Hyewon that he’s shared his first kiss with, jolt in unison. Hyewon’s scared shitless while Yoongi’s annoyed to death, the grunt he lets out pricking your ears further. “Sorry, sorry. She’s my best friend’s sister. She’s so annoying,” he drags you out of your room before he even gives you the entitlement to storm out of there in a fit of rage, seeing red the longer that he seems upset at you.

“What the fuck was that, Yoongi?” you grit through your teeth, the moment of you seeing red turn into white because you’re so frustrated that you could actually cry. Your chest’s heavy, not only out of rage, but out of everything that’s built up in the course of years.

“Can you keep it down?” Yoongi seethes, pursing his lips. “What, would you rather see us do it in the living room?”

“In the — what? Who do you think you are? This isn’t even your house, why are you bringing these girls here?” you point an accusing finger at him yet he doesn’t back away, his annoyance for you only growing tenfold.

He’s in the wrong no matter which way you look at it yet he doesn’t realize it, the epiphany that Yoongi genuinely thinks he’s in the right for doing this to you making your skin burn in fire.

“This is literally the first time I’ve ever done this! I can’t bring her back to my place, my dad has guests over!”

“So your smartest idea is to fuck someone in my bed?”

“Oh, you’re welcome. It’s the most action your four walls have ever seen,” he spits sarcastically, eyes narrowing at you. It takes little effort for him to dig up what you came to him for in worry and it terrifies you. The facet of Yoongi who had sternly told you that it was okay to be left behind if it means getting what you deserve, resembling nothing like him at the moment.

“I can’t believe you!” you whisper as you tremble, the tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. “I told you that in confidence.”

“In confidence? It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that you’re not exactly a catch, Y/N.”

You clench your jaw so hard that it hurts, you ball your fists so tightly that it stings.

You leave your home without saying another word.

Namjoon’s panicked.

He came home a little later than usual because he had maximized the life out of his soccer lessons, only getting the signal to leave when the lights were turned off. He was only slightly worried at the first place because he was supposed to cook dinner for the both of you, but he placated himself by realizing that you’re not the baby that he still thinks you are — you could cook dinner for yourself if you were hungry already.

He thinks nothing of it. In fact, he just makes a quick stop at the convenience store so the both of you could indulge in a liter of ice cream without your mom urging to leave some for another night. You could think of a recipe from scratch (and it almost always works out at the end), so Namjoon walked in fully thinking he’ll get to sniff whatever concoction you have.

Except, he walks into a completely dark house, and that’s when he panics.

He can’t find your slippers by the entryway and you’re not in your room either. You’re not at the other convenience store hunched over taking your chances on scratch tickets, and you’re not out on the street either going people-watching.

The panic rises in him the more that Namjoon grasps this is the first time that this has ever happened and he doesn’t know why. He’s always made an effort to be absorbed into both your personal and academic affairs, and as far as he knows, you’re neither in a sleepover nor on a field trip somewhere.

Namjoon thinks it’s his fault someway somehow, and the guilt can’t fully dissipate from him until he sees you.

“Hey, Yoongi,” he breathlessly gasps the moment his friend answers, the latter being surprised because he thought it was you who was calling him after what happened awhile ago.

It’s his fault and he’s realized that hours too late, and the selfish part of him thinks that it’s you calling at ten in the evening begging for forgiveness.

“What’s up, man? It’s late,” he wonders out loud, thinking for a second if they were too much of the Siamese twins that you tease them to be because he can’t think of a rational reason why Namjoon would call him at this time of night.

Namjoon raggedly exhales, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, sorry about that. I’m just wondering if you’ve seen Y/N by any chance?”

Yoongi’s heart drops so loudly that Namjoon thought for second that his friend had hung up on him, his urgency being shared the moment that he asked.

“What? Y/N isn’t home?” Yoongi asks in disbelief, immediately being filled with anxiety and disbelief. Just awhile ago, the two of you were arguing outside of your room. He did hear you leave, but he had fully expected for you to be back hours ago. He’s wracked with guilt all over, the drop in his chest amplified by the pit in his stomach.

“She’s not. Practice ran late and I-I know she’s responsible so I didn’t hurry home,” Namjoon recalls, being more and more frazzled by the second. “She left her phone here, and mom isn’t here either because she’s visiting my grandparents, a-and I don’t want to call her because I know she’ll be worried, a-and-…”

Yoongi interrupts him, the tremble in his fingers only enabling him to dig his nails into his palm deeper. “I’m coming over. Let’s look for her together.”

It barely takes a minute for the both of them to come together, not even exchanging any pleasantries with each other before Yoongi steps on the gas.

Namjoon’s filled with guilt, the type that only a sibling could carry as a burden. He thinks he was too selfish — too accustomed to pulling your own weight that it must have given you the impression that you had no other choice but to. Whatever it was that made you leave out of the blue, Namjoon thinks he could’ve done more. He should’ve came home and made you dinner as promised, for starters. He’s guilty over the fact that he’s the only close familial male figure in your life and he let this happen, as he makes Yoongi put his headlights on high-beam, scanning for anyone that looks remotely like you.

Yoongi, on the other hand, is filled with a guilt he can’t even begin to explain. It corrodes him from the inside-out in realization that he’s to blame for your sudden disappearance, the fact that Namjoon comes to him first to help find you not helping at all. If only your brother knew what he had done to you, he’s positive that he’ll be on the receiving end of a punch — what gets him more is that Yoongi wouldn’t blame him at all.

They see you in the bus stop two cities away, dressed in the same clothes you ran out with.

Namjoon’s relieved beyond compare while Yoongi’s fuming, his hands tucked inside his jacket to prevent himself from squeezing you into an embrace; neither of you deserve it.

There’s an underlying anger within Namjoon, one that lies behind the back of his throat as he checks you over for any injuries. The two of you walk ahead to Yoongi’s car while he himself trails behind, his heart significantly calmer than it was the past hour, yet nowhere near normal.

“Wanna tell me what you did?” your brother hums, trying to exhale the worry that’s embedded into him with each squeeze he gives around your shoulders.

“Went to the convenience store, bumped into my friends, then we took this impromptu roadtrip to go to the night market, then we all had our first actual shot of liquor and not just beer, my friend who owns the car turned out to be a lightweight, and now everyone just has to commute home,” you narrate in recollection, squeezing Namjoon back to try and ground him.

“Okay,” he answers simply, nodding. “Wanna tell me what happened before you did all those things?”

The breathless chuckle that leaves you is empty, void of any amusement at all. You smile nonetheless, unable to placate both yourself and Namjoon. “Nope.”

You arrive in silence to Yoongi’s car, the words unsaid between the three of you generating more tension than your brief disappearance itself.

Yoongi opens the front door for you, but you settle for sitting in the backseat.

#HOW R WE FEELING TARGET AUDIENCE!!! :O #yoongi imagine #yoongi oneshot #yoongi oneshots #yoongi series #yoongi angst #yoongi angst imagine #yoongi fluff #yoongi x reader #yoongi x y/n #yoongi au #min yoongi imagine #min yoongi scenario #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x you #bts yoongi imagine #bts yoongi x reader

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onlyhereforthestories · 14 days ago

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Gift Guessing Games (Ingrid Engen x Reader)

Day 11. I really love Ingrid but shes so sweet I feel the cute ones like this are best suited for writing for her. So enjoy!

“Alright, let’s do this,” Ingrid declared, tugging her bobble hat snugly over her ears as she adjusted her scarf. The two of you stood at the entrance of the bustling shopping centre, a cold breeze whipping at your bodies that was the only positive about going inside. She turned to you, her expression a mix of determination and something a little more fun. “I need your help, but there’s a catch. Well not really a catch but you’ll get what I mean in a second.”

You raised an eyebrow, curious already. “Oh? What’s the catch? Is this some impossible mission?”

She smirked, leaning in slightly. “It’s for my secret Santa gift… but I’m not telling you who I got. You’ll have to guess.”

You laughed, shoving your hands into your coat pockets. “So, I’m helping you shop but I’m being left completely in the dark? That’s okay but you can’t blame me if we end up with something ridiculous.”

Ingrid grinned and grabbed your hand, tugging you inside where the warmth of the mall wrapped around you like a cozy blanket. Twinkling fairy lights adorned every storefront, garlands hung over doorways, and a giant Christmas tree stood proudly in the centre, its ornaments shimmering under the glow of the many little bulbs lighting up the tree. Holiday music drifted through the air, creating a welcome distraction from the many people who looked like they were panicking or just not liking the sheer amount of people around them.

“Alright, first question,” you said, as the two of you strolled into the first shop. “Are they someone who’s hard to shop for? Like do we actually have an impossible task anyway, even without me being in the dark.”

Ingrid shrugged, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. This was going to be a long shopping trip. “Depends on who’s shopping. I have faith in us.”

You rolled your eyes. “Not giving me much here, but okay. Let’s start with something practical but fun. A mug, maybe? Like one of these…” You grabbed a novelty mug from the shelf, reading it aloud. “‘Captain in Charge… of Coffee Breaks.’ It’s perfect if your person drinks coffee. Or if they are, I don’t know, a team captain?” Your guess was the subtlest you could come up with and you were pretty proud of yourself.

Ingrid snorted, the corners of her mouth twitching. “Not bad. But keep guessing.”

You watched her carefully, trying to catch any flicker of a reaction, but she gave nothing away. So not Alexia, one down god knows how many more to go. “Damn it okay,” you said, placing the mug back. “Next question. Are they a more serious person or are they a big goof?”

“Both,” Ingrid said immediately, moving toward a shelf of scented candles and giving one an experimental sniff. “They can be super focused, but they also have a good sense of humour.”

You tapped your chin thoughtfully as you followed her, a gesture that had Ingrid snickering under her breath at you. “Serious but funny. Hmm. What about someone who’s always playing music? Do they love gadgets?” You wandered over to a display of retro-style record players. “This is cute. It’s small, quirky, and perfect for someone who likes to mess around with genres and artists.”

Ingrid chuckled, giving the tiny record player a once-over. “That’s actually a good idea. I really like that as a gift, but nope. That won’t work for my Secret Santa.”

“Okay, now you’re just enjoying this,” you said, narrowing your eyes at her. You had a feeling she had a present in mind already but just wanted to make you come up with things and guesses for her teammates.

She grinned, unapologetic. “Maybe. Keep going.”

“Yes ma’am,” you said with an exaggerated sigh. “Do they like organizing things? Like are they the type to have their entire life planned out in a colour-coded spreadsheet?”

Ingrid laughed, shaking her head. “I think everyone on the team could use a little more organization, but that’s not a hint.”

You spotted a leather-bound planner with gold accents on a nearby display and held it up. “This is classy. Even if they’re not the organized type, it could be aspirational. Maybe push them to be a little more proactive in their organizational skills.”

Ingrid tilted her head, considering it. “You’re really good at this. But still no.”

You groaned, dramatically throwing your head back. “Ingrid! You’re killing me. At least tell me if they’re someone you’re close to.” You grabbed her hand as you strolled around the next shop.

Her smile softened, and she gave a little shrug, squeezing your hand slightly in the process. “I mean we’re all close. But yeah, this person’s special.”

You caught the flicker of affection in her voice and grinned. “Special, huh? So, we’re talking someone who looks up to you, maybe? Someone who thinks you’re the coolest person on the planet?” you made sure she could hear the teasing tone of your voice, she had given you a bit too big of a clue and you now knew who it was.

Ingrid gave you a sideways glance, her smile turning sheepish. “I’m not saying anything.”

You clapped your hands together. “It’s Jana, isn’t it? Oh, I’ve got this. Jewellery. Something simple but meaningful. Like… oh!” You pointed toward a display case filled with delicate silver bracelets, each engraved with a small charm bearing an inspirational word. “‘Fearless.’ That’s perfect. She’s fearless on the pitch, right? And it’s something she can wear every day.”

Ingrid’s silence was telling. She reached for the bracelet, her fingers brushing over the charm as a soft smile spread across her face. “Okay, okay. You win. It’s Jana. And this… babe this is perfect.”

You beamed, pleased with yourself. “I knew it. But for the record, I was onto you from the start.”

Ingrid rolled her eyes, but the warmth in her expression made your heart swell. “Sure you were.” She wrapped her hands around your neck and pulled you a little closer as she spoke. “And I’m sure you played along with my game just for me huh?”

You nodded your head enthusiastically before standing on your toes to press a gentle kiss to the woman’s lips. Letting your hand run into her back pocket where you pulled out her purse. “Time to pay!” Ingrid was quick to grab her purse back before you could even get out of her arms.

As the two of you headed to the checkout, Ingrid glanced over at you, her voice quieter now. “Thanks for helping me with this. I wanted it to be something meaningful, you know? Something that shows her how proud I am of her.”

You bumped her shoulder lightly. “You didn’t need my help for that. It’s obvious how much you care about her. This gift is just the cherry on top.”

With the gift brought, you and Ingrid headed for the outside. Ingrid pulled her scarf tihght around her neck again before she gripped your hand in hers. You made it all of 5 paces into the cool air before you broke the peaceful silence that had settled between you.

“Now,” you said with a grin, “let’s talk wrapping paper. Because you’re not just slapping this in a bag and calling it a day. We’re going all out.”

Ingrid laughed, the sound echoing warmly in the quiet street. “Bows and ribbons?”

“Obviously,” you replied. “It’s not Christmas without glitter.”

She squeezed your hand, her smile wide and full of gratitude. “Deal. But you’re in charge of the glitter.”

#woso x reader #woso imagines #woso imagine #ingrid engen imagine #ingrid engen x reader

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sleepingdeath-light · 1 year ago

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relationship hcs ; vincent phantomhive

requested by ; mod / self indulgent

fandom(s) ; black butler

fandom masterlist(s) ; hub | specific

character(s) ; vincent phantomhive

outline ; “dating headcanons for vincent”

warning(s) ; none, just fluff!

despite what his infamy and role as the queen’s guard dog would have you believe, vincent is an incredibly loving and attentive spouse — giving you all of his attention and affection when he’s with you and sending you frequent letters when he’s away (be that for business with funtom or for his more unsavoury duties under the queen)

he’s extremely affectionate by victorian aristocrat standards — never shying away from public displays of affection like: kissing your knuckles and fingertips, pecking your cheeks and lips, or wrapping an arm around your waist — and in private he was even more physical with you (often kissing and tickling you until you’re laughing so hard you’re crying and begging for him to stop between wheezes)

he spoils you rotten and makes sure that you’re never left wanting for anything so long as he can help it — clothes, shoes, accessories, food cravings, ornaments, books, etc. — the moment you mention wanting something he’s going to do everything he can to ensure that you have it in your possession as soon as possible

he dotes on you whenever you’re feeling even the slightest bit unwell, rearranging his whole schedule just to ensure that he can take care of you — or, rather, so that he can coo over you and supervise his staff (and, at times, dietrich) whilst they prepare your food and medication on his behalf

whenever he’s been away for a while due to some obligation or another he always makes a point to return with affection and gifts — making up for his absence physically and with many a thoughtful bouquet and arrangement of your favourite sweet things

when it comes to pet names he’s something of a traditionalist and tends to stick with ‘darling’, ‘dear’, and ‘my love’ — and likewise prefers to be called the same (but he won’t turn up his nose at the occasional ‘sweetheart’ if you’re so inclined)

if he’s ever called especially far-afield and pleasant — such as the north country, or abroad to somewhere in mainland europe — then he does his best to take you with him and the two of you have a lovely time as a couple (almost treating the entire affair as a holiday) between his investigations and assignments, and you have entire shelves full of souvenirs purchased on excursions like this (some novelty, others practical, all just sat there and occasionally picked up and looked over with vague amusement, affection and nostalgia)

he talks about you so often that he sometimes doesn’t even realise that he’s doing it, mentioning you or something you’ve done in basically every conversation he has — it drives dietrich mad but the other aristocrats of evil find it endearing and actively encourage him to keep on talking (undertaker especially finds his devotion to you touching)

he rarely ever gets jealous, but when he does he becomes incredibly short and passive aggressive — threatening them with his reputation and relationship to the criminal underground under a thin facade of politeness as he tightly grips your waist and keeps you flush against him (he’s not subtle and will be making it clear that you’re taken the moment you get home — especially if you initiated the offensive encounter in order to tease him)

#sleepingdeath #gender neutral reader #fluff #fluff hcs #black butler fluff #kuroshitsuji fluff #vincent phantomhive fluff #vincent phantomhive x reader #kuroshitsuji x reader #black butler x reader

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icrypop · 1 day ago

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Christmas with Them

Characters: Angel Dust, Alastor, Husk, Vox, Lucifer, Vaggie, Charlie

GENDER NEUTRAL READER!!

1 of a few Christmas Posts!!! Enjoyyyy!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Angel Dust

- Angel drags you to the most extravagant and chaotic stores in Hell, loudly commenting on tacky ornaments and inappropriate holiday decorations. He insists on buying matching ugly Christmas sweaters for both of you.

- You both turn your living space into a glitter explosion while hanging up decorations. Angel ends up covered in tinsel and insists it’s his “holiday look.”

- A hilariously sarcastic commentary on every cheesy Christmas movie you watch together, especially rom-coms. Angel constantly points out how he’d do things differently.

- Angel’s presents are often over-the-top and flashy, like a sequined stocking filled with novelty items. He loves seeing your reaction, especially if it makes you laugh.

- Angel improvises a "snowball fight" using pillow stuffing or anything he can throw. It quickly devolves into a chaotic but hilarious mess.

- Angel sets up playful (and slightly inappropriate) pranks around the house, like booby-trapped mistletoe that sprays glitter.

- He drags you into a karaoke night, belting out raunchy versions of Christmas classics while pulling you up for duets.

- Angel crafts stockings for both of you, but his is covered in rhinestones and feathers, while yours has a playful inside joke about your relationship.

===============================

You woke up to the sound of loud music blasting through the apartment. Groaning, you rolled over and saw Angel Dust, already in a ridiculous Santa-themed outfit, complete with glittery red heels.

“Rise and shine, sugar! Santa Dust is here to bring some Christmas chaos!” he yelled, shaking a bag full of wrapped presents.

The living room was a mess of wrapping paper, candy canes, and tinsel. Angel had clearly been up for hours, “redecorating” the place. He plopped down beside you, handing you a sloppily wrapped gift.

“I know it ain’t perfect,” he said with a wink, “but it’s fabulous, just like me.”

Inside was a sequined jacket in your favorite color. Before you could thank him, he yanked you into a hug, covering you in glitter. “Merry Christmas, babe! Now, let’s eat cookies for breakfast and watch the worst holiday movies we can find!”

---

Alastor

- Alastor prepares an elaborate Christmas dinner with dishes from various cultures. He insists on you trying everything, recounting stories about the origins of the recipes with his usual sinister grin.

- He takes you to Hell’s version of Christmas caroling, which involves twisted and haunting renditions of holiday classics. He sings with eerie enthusiasm, making the experience both fun and chilling.

- Alastor dims the lights, turns on some vintage Christmas jazz, and offers his hand to you for an impromptu dance in front of a crackling fire.

- His presents are always wrapped perfectly, but they often come with a cryptic backstory that leaves you curious (or slightly unsettled).

- Alastor gathers you by the fire to tell twisted holiday tales, his voice both chilling and captivating as he adds his sinister flair.

- He surprises you with a hand-carved ornament or a vintage keepsake, proudly stating it’s made “with a personal touch.”

- He takes you on a stroll through Hell’s version of a winter wonderland, narrating the history of the sights with a mischievous grin.

- Alastor sets up his vintage record player to play Christmas tunes, occasionally breaking into an impromptu performance to serenade you.

===============================

You awoke to the sound of soft jazz playing from Alastor’s Victrola. The warm scent of fresh pastries and spiced coffee wafted through the air. When you stepped into the living room, Alastor was adjusting a garland on the fireplace, wearing a festive sweater that somehow still looked sinister.

“Ah, my dear, you’re just in time! Breakfast is ready, and the festivities are about to commence,” he said with his ever-present grin.

He guided you to a beautifully set table, complete with an array of homemade treats. “I’ve prepared something special for you,” he said, handing you a small, intricately wrapped box.

Inside was a vintage locket with a picture of the two of you. “A token of my appreciation for the… interesting times we’ve shared,” he said, chuckling.

The rest of the morning was spent in a mix of eerie Christmas carols and surprisingly heartfelt moments, making it a day to remember.

---

Husk

- Husk isn’t big on holidays but agrees to spend Christmas with you, as long as there’s booze involved. He keeps things simple and cozy.

- He teaches you a card game (or makes up his own rules) while sipping spiked eggnog. The banter is half the fun.

- Though he grumbles about the holidays, you catch him smiling when he sees you happy. He secretly gets you a thoughtful gift but denies it’s a big deal.

- Husk shares stories about his life over a quiet Christmas night, his guard lowered just enough for you to see his softer side.

- Husk insists on a lazy day spent napping with you in a pile of blankets, saying it’s the best way to "celebrate."

- He begrudgingly takes you on a tour of his favorite bars, which turns into an unexpectedly fun holiday adventure.

- You play drinking games where the rules involve mocking cheesy holiday tropes in movies or commercials.

- Late at night, Husk shares an old Christmas memory that’s surprisingly heartwarming, making the moment unexpectedly tender.

===============================

When you woke up, Husk was already in the kitchen, grumbling to himself as he poured coffee into two mismatched mugs. He turned and noticed you, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Morning. Figured I’d get the caffeine going,” he said, setting a mug down in front of you.

The apartment was quiet except for the faint sound of Christmas music playing on an old radio. Husk had set up a small tree the night before, its lights blinking lazily.

“I, uh, got you something,” he muttered, pulling a neatly wrapped box from under the tree. Inside was a simple but thoughtful gift—a book you’d mentioned wanting.

“Don’t make a big deal out of it,” he grumbled, though his tail flicked nervously. You smiled and hugged him, making him groan. “Alright, alright, enough with the mushy stuff. Let’s eat.”

---

Vox

- Vox uses his powers to create a high-tech Christmas experience, complete with holographic decorations and a futuristic Christmas tree.

- He ropes you into doing a Christmas livestream or video podcast, where you both show off holiday outfits or open gifts in front of an audience.

- Vox takes you to a VIP Christmas bash where only the most elite of Hell are invited. He enjoys showing you off as his partner.

- Vox designs a one-of-a-kind gadget or accessory for you, showcasing both his creativity and affection.

-Vox creates a dazzling Christmas-themed digital fireworks display just for you, projecting it across the skyline.

- He insists you try on various high-tech holiday outfits, enjoying the playful banter as he models a few himself.

- Vox programs a personalized playlist of Christmas music, mixing your favorite songs with his edgy style.

- You spend hours gaming together, battling in festive-themed games or playing co-op while snacking on holiday treats.

===============================

Christmas morning with Vox was nothing short of futuristic. You woke up to a fully automated greeting, complete with holographic mistletoe hovering above the bed.

“Good morning, darling,” Vox’s voice chimed from his speakers. He walked in moments later, carrying a tray with your favorite breakfast and a smirk on his face.

“You’ll love this,” he said, activating a projection of a virtual Christmas tree. Beneath it were digital renderings of gifts, each one opening to reveal a real-life counterpart.

Your favorite? A sleek, custom-designed gadget with your name engraved on it. “Only the best for my favorite person,” Vox said, leaning in for a quick kiss.

The rest of the morning was spent exploring your gifts, laughing over his high-tech holiday antics, and enjoying the most luxurious Christmas breakfast imaginable.

---

Lucifer

- Christmas with Lucifer is a grand and formal affair. He hosts a luxurious dinner party with the who’s who of Hell, and you’re the center of his attention.

- After the party, he whisks you away to a quiet spot to enjoy the holiday privately, often with fine wine and a view of Hell’s unique “snow.”

- Lucifer gives you an antique or a priceless artifact with sentimental value, paired with a heartfelt (and slightly poetic) explanation.

- He leads you in a slow waltz under Hell’s night sky, showing a rare glimpse of his romantic side.

- Lucifer oversees the lighting of an enormous, magical Christmas tree in Hell, inviting you to stand beside him as his special guest.

- He plays a grand piano, performing hauntingly beautiful renditions of holiday classics for you.

- Lucifer prepares an intimate, candlelit Christmas dinner for just the two of you, complete with fine wine and elegant music.

- He takes you for a walk through Hell’s royal gardens, magically transformed into a winter wonderland for the occasion.

===============================

You woke to the faint sound of classical music and the scent of freshly baked pastries. Lucifer, dressed impeccably as always, stood by the grand fireplace, sipping a cup of coffee.

“Good morning, my love,” he greeted, his voice smooth as silk. “I trust you slept well?”

He led you to the dining room, where a lavish breakfast spread awaited. Every detail was perfect, from the polished silverware to the pristine holiday decor.

After breakfast, he presented you with an ornate gift box. Inside was a rare piece of jewelry, something timeless and elegant, just like him. “A symbol of my affection,” he said softly, brushing a kiss to your hand.

The rest of the morning was spent in quiet luxury, with Lucifer ensuring every moment felt special and unforgettable.

---

Vaggie

- Vaggie prefers a quiet, personal celebration with homemade decorations and baked goods. She insists on keeping it meaningful and genuine.

- You both wrap gifts together, with her focusing on neatness and you possibly sneaking in something silly, which makes her laugh.

- Vaggie enjoys sitting by the fire with you, sipping hot cocoa and discussing your dreams or plans for the future.

- She’s very thoughtful in her gift choices, ensuring each present reflects your interests and needs.

- Vaggie and you spend the evening baking cookies and cakes, with her getting competitive about making everything perfect.

- She creates a scrapbook filled with memories of your time together, presenting it to you with a heartfelt note.

- You both sit under Hell’s unique starry sky, wrapped in blankets, quietly enjoying each other’s company.

- Vaggie sets up a simple but cute photoshoot for the two of you, using props and backdrops to capture the holiday spirit.

===============================

Christmas morning with Vaggie was simple and heartfelt. You woke up to the smell of hot chocolate and the sight of her carefully hanging the last ornament on the tree.

“Good morning,” she said with a soft smile, handing you a steaming mug. “Merry Christmas.”

The two of you sat by the tree, exchanging gifts and teasing each other over your wrapping skills. Her gift was practical yet thoughtful—a handmade scarf in your favorite color.

“I wanted to make something personal,” she said, a faint blush on her cheeks.

The morning ended with you snuggled together under a blanket, watching the lights twinkle on the tree as soft music played in the background.

---

Charlie

- Charlie loves every aspect of Christmas, from decorating to caroling. She’s bubbly and eager to involve you in all her holiday activities.

- She takes you to volunteer or give back in some way, wanting to spread joy to others. Her optimism is infectious.

- Charlie introduces you to quirky family traditions, like singing carols with her parents or making unique tree ornaments.

- Her presents are handmade or extremely personal, always reminding you how much she cherishes you.

- Charlie insists on decorating the tree together, turning it into a fun and chaotic event with lots of laughter.

- She loves creating colorful and creative holiday cookies, and you end up in a playful frosting fight.

- Charlie organizes a festive parade, making you the honorary guest and ensuring you have the most fun.

- She convinces you to write silly letters to “Santa” (even in Hell), just to see what you’d wish for, laughing over your responses.

===============================

You woke up to Charlie bouncing on the bed, her excitement infectious. “It’s Christmas! Come on, get up!” she exclaimed, pulling you out of bed.

The living room was a whirlwind of holiday cheer, with stockings overflowing and presents stacked high. Charlie handed you a brightly wrapped gift, grinning ear to ear.

“It’s not much, but I thought you’d like it,” she said. Inside was a handmade scrapbook filled with pictures and mementos from your time together.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you hugged her tightly. “Hey, don’t cry! It’s Christmas!” she said, laughing as she wiped your tears.

The rest of the morning was filled with laughter, music, and way too many cookies, making it the perfect start to the holiday.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#my fic #x reader #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin lucifer #hazbin vox #hazbin husk #hazbin vaggie #hazbin charlie #christmas #hazbin hotel hcs #merry christmas

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shieldofiron · 23 days ago

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So… I desperately need to hear your thoughts on what Christmas traditions Harringrove would do/create to make it through this Monday ❤️

I also had SUCH a shitty Monday oh my Godddd YES ok let's do this:

• First of all, Steve makes them put up the tree WAY early. He likes to start celebrating November 1 and it just intensifies from there.

• Every year they pick out a new ornament and write the year on it. Usually they try to find the silliest novelty one. Their favorite is a surfing snoopy with a joint they found in Venice Beach. They try to choose non-fragile ones because almost every year Billy makes a super-turbo-stregnth Eggnog which inevitably causes Steve to trip over their cat and topple the tree.

• He also makes an apple cider moonshine that could take the paint off their new car (lovingly maintained 1992 dodge viper.)

• Their other car is a pickup that they use to pick out their tree every year. Billy's dad always made him haul out a shitty plastic tree and put it up essentially alone so he loves the real pine smell.

• Every year Steve spends days thinking of and finding the perfect gift for Billy. Every year he ends up being the one crying because Billy somehow found or made something so thoughtful and perfect that Steve can't handle it.

• Max and Billy often used to spend Christmas day together because Neil would take Susan out for "alone time." So they carry on their tradition of painting each other's nails, only now they do it with Lucas and Steve. The rule is it doesn't have to be good, it just has to be badass. Lucas has the steadiest hand.

• Their traditional Christmas meal is Chinese food, because Steve hosts a lot of family for Hanukkah and by the time Christmas rolls around all he wants is to order egg rolls (and he's right!) Their Christmakkah is epic, even if all the family visits sometimes make Billy chain smoke. The Harrington's love Billy, and often try to get them to visit Hawkins for the holidays, but the Christmas in Los Feliz is just too beautiful.

#happy harringrove holidays #billy hargrove #harringrove #steve harrington #lumax #billy x steve #steve x billy #asks #hc

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scariusaquarius · 13 days ago

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tinsel kisses.

CHRISTMAS ADVENT BONANZA 2K24 DAY 12: Evergreen Decor, Izuku Midoriya

Izuku Midoriya x Fem! Reader Summary: You enlist Midoriya to help you with decorating your christmas tree when a sudden mishap causes shenanigans to ensue

A/n: I love Midoriya so much! I think it would be so fun to decorate a tree with him heheh

Genre: Friendship, Fluff, Humor Rated: Everyone Warning: Fluff, Swearing

Author: ScariusAquarius

"Ouch! That really hurt, Midoriya!"

"Oh no, I am so sorry! Are you okay? Do you need an ice pack? I'm so, so, so sorry!"

It was about 7pm at night in Musutafu, the city lit up in wonderful multicolors and glittering with snow as it came down heavily from the sky. You were decorating your home for Christmas, the holiday steadily approaching, and it had come time to decorate your tree.

Since you had been decorating your house and yard all day, you had decided to enlist the help of one of your closest friends to get the tree done.

Midoriya had been more than enthusiastic and had arrived to your house as soon as he could. The second he walked in, he was in awe by how much of a Winter Wonderland your apartment had become. Christmas lights, novelty items strewn around, and there was a mean-looking elf on the shelf that was staring right at him the second he opened the door.

'Always watching,' the sign attached said. Midoriya wasn't sure if he liked the elf that much.

You were in the kitchen when he had arrived, at the stove while the smell of chocolate filled the air. There were two mugs on the counter, a Gingerbread Man and a Gingerbread House, and they were filled with steaming chocolate.

Whipped cream adorned each of the rims and red, green, and white sprinkles with a candy cane hanging off of each side. There was also a plate of chocolate chip cookies on the counter, and Midoriya had been in heaven.

While waiting for the hot chocolate to cool down just enough so it wouldn't burn your tongues, you and Midoriya had gotten started on decorating the tree. Everything had been smooth, Midoriya reaching high and bending low while you gave directions on where to put the basic ornaments.

Then, it was the lights, the garland, the candy canes, and then it was time for the tinsel, and that's where things began to take a turn.

You had asked Midoriya to be the one to throw the tinsel around since One for All gave Midoriya the ability to float, and everything had gone well until Midoriya accidentally dropped the box of tinsel on you.

With a sore head and tinsel all over you, Midoriya was fussing about, checking your head and running to the kitchen to get an icepack. You weren't actually in pain, just a slight bump on the top of your skull, and when you glanced at yourself in the 'JOLLY' mirror that was beside the fireplace, you began to giggle.

"What is it?"

You leaned forward, taking Midoriya's hand when he offered it to you, and you stood up.

"I didn't think I needed a makeover that bad, Midoriya."

You blew some tinsel out of your face, and Midoriya became sheepish, rubbing the back of his head as he averted his gaze from you.

"No, it's not like that, I swear. You're beautiful all the time! I just...my hand slipped and...and I didn't grab the box in time before it fell on you. I really am sorry."

Your cheeks were hot, and a smile climbed over your face as you pointed out.

"I'm beautiful all the time?"

Midoriya looked horrified, face going completely red, and he exclaimed in embarrassment.

"No! I..I mean, yes! Yes, uh...all the time! I...Oh, please, help me."

He covered his face, and you laughed, gently taking his hands away from his face as Midoriya shyly looked at you. Taking some of the tinsel off of your head, you shook it all over him before saying with a cute smile.

"You're beautiful all the time to me too, Midoriya."

"R-Really?"

He looked awestruck, a part of him wondering if this was real and truly happening, and his heart began to race when you got closer to him, sliding your hands over his shoulders and around his neck and, oh, gods, you were so close to him.

His hands shakily rested against your hips, and euphoria burst through his whole body the second that your lips met his own. Midoriya was frozen for a moment from the ecstasy before his body molded against yours. Noses bumping slightly, you pulled away from him with a goofy little smile that had his whole body vibrating.

"Always, Midoriya. Wanna give me a lift to put the star on the tree and...maybe stay over to watch some Western Christmas movies with me?"

Midoriya giggled breathlessly, nodding with enthusiasm as he became slightly emotional, rubbing your noses together.

"I would love that so much!"

Grabbing the star for the tree, Midoriya lifted you within his arms bridal style, the two of you giggling as you both fumbled slightly, and Midoriya jumped up with a 'up we go!' and you effortlessly put the star on top of the tree.

Landing on the ground, Midoriya let you down, and you plugged the tree in and stood back, wrapping an arm around his waist and resting your head against his shoulder.

Midoriya couldn't keep the smile off of his face as he held you close, just admiring the tree with you, and your voice brought him so much joy and comfort as you whispered gently and held him tight.

"Merry Christmas, Midoriya."

"Merry Christmas, (Y/n)."

END DAY 12

#izuku midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #deku x reader #izuku midoriya #midoriya izuku #deku #midoriya #izuku #bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #advent bonanza 2k24

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strawberrykidneystone · 15 days ago

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Im not quite sure if you do various characters hcs? But how about Christmas time with like Sevika, Jinx, Vi, Ekko, Viktor, Silco, or any one really that you can or will write for?,!

CRACKS KNUCKLES IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE TURN IT UP

a/n: if they’re ooc im so sorry i’ve literally only ever written for sevika and vi before but i really want to try writing for all of them!!! also fuck it adding cait, mel and jayce in too

tysm for requesting anon <333

ANYWAYS

Christmas Time with Arcane Characters

sevika:

claims she’s not a “christmasy” person

did she cry when she watched the grinch with you? yes she did.

insisted on watching all 3 versions for comparison

gets really into grinch stuff

i’m talking pajamas, mugs, you even have a lit up fake dog with an antler tied to its head as decoration outside of your house

if you dress up at martha may you will not be walking for the next month

you sometimes catch her reciting lines while she’s busy doing chores

jinx:

oh she’s dragging you to all of the christmas light shows

yk how some zoos have zoolight nights or whatever?

yeah, y’all have annual passes

she still complains that you can’t actually see most of the animals and tries to yell at them to “wake them up” LMAO😭

literally SHOUTS whenever you pass a house that’s decorated with lights and insists that you stop to admire it

of course you oblige her because you also want to see the lights

she grabs your hand in hers as the lights reflect off her eyes, a joyous glow completely surrounding her

vi:

yk that scene in better off dead where he’s like “i’ve got this cousin that makes this monster eggnog made with motor oil”

that’s her

the spiked eggnog she makes is VILE

unless you realllllly like fireball with a drop of eggnog, then it’s good!!!

she makes the christmas dinner with a “kiss the cook” apron that jinx makes fun of her for

unfortunately she did have to kick you out because you were kissing the cook too often for her to focus

you almost made her burn the green beans!!!

ekko:

the WORST and i mean worst person to go christmas light decoration shopping with bc he’s like “i can literally make that for you at home”

shh it’s about the novelty and whimsy of buying things smh🙄

he drags you out of the store and spends the next few days making all of the decorations that you said you liked AND THEN SOME

he goes above and beyond, quite literally with the firelights stringing up lights up on the tree

once he’s done making the decorations, he gives you a smug grin as you admire them

“fine, you were right.” “i know, but it still feels good to hear you say it”

kisses your forehead before he’s pulled off to put up more decorations

viktor:

he would LOVE going on one of those hay rides that go around super decorated neighborhoods

idk if it’s everywhere but where i’m from there’s a certain neighborhood that has their electricity bill covered for like all of winter bc they’re all get SUPER into decorating and people pay to walk around

they also have hay rides that drive you through them so yes he would absolutely love that

i also feel like he would actually buys figgy pudding for carolers and is disappointed every year when none come LMAO

dw yall do karaoke to christmas songs and eat the pudding in the comfort of you own home

mel:

she’s has MULTIPLE christmas trees in your house, the main one being a huge white one with golden decorations that has all of your presents under it

the other “less aesthetic” trees have heirlooms and silly ornaments on them, but she loves them all the same

or so she claims

she has a mini tree in her nightstand that she treats like her baby complete it’s mini tinsel, ornaments, and even a lit up star on the top

she insists that it stays on when the two of you go to bed and you don’t have the heart to complain, plus it shines such a beautiful soft light on her that you can’t say no

goes to a LOT of holiday charity auctions with you on her arm and usually wins every bid, especially the items that catch your eye

jayce:

WHAT DO YALL KNOW ABOUT THE POLAR EXPRESS EXPERIENCE‼️‼️‼️

he'd be pressed up against the windows watching the landscape go by while the two of you are on the train

he’s BELLOWING all of the christmas carols and asks for extra marshmallows in his hot chocolate

the train ride is so much fun though and you’re both wearing matching pajamas of course

when santa comes and gives everyone their bells, he gives you his for safe keeping bc even though he KNOWS none of his pockets have holes, he’s still anxious about losing it

yes yes he knows that they arent the magic bells like in the movie, but he still smiles so brightly when they ring out

caitlyn:

she’s taking you to the nutcracker AND I DONT WANNA HEAR SHIT ABOUT BALLET BEING BORING I WAS A BALLERINA FOR 14 YEARS I DONT WANNA HEAR IT

anyways

the two of you get all dressed up and walk arm and arm into the theater, the lobby transformed as if you were stepping into clara’s party already

she def cries during the sugarplum fairy pas de duex

afterwards, the two of you stop at a little mom and pop diner and share a milkshake of your choosing<333

silco:

hosts the best christmas parties and always gives his employees a christmas bonus

only has 1 or 2 drinks at the party but loves seeing you get absolutely BLASTED

if they’re on the nice list that is

his favorite thing of the season by far is curling up with you by the fireplace and falling asleep in each others arms

even though he wakes up with a SERIOUS crick in his neck

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noisycowboyglitter · 5 months ago

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Spice Up Your Gift-Giving: Funny Cock Diet Adult Gag Gifts That Will Crack You Up

The "Funny Cock Diet Adult Gag Gift" is a humorous novelty item designed to elicit laughs and playful reactions among adults. This tongue-in-cheek present typically takes the form of a fake diet book or product that plays on double entendres and risqué humor related to roosters and male anatomy.

Buy now:19.95$

The gift might feature absurd "weight loss tips" involving chickens or comical illustrations that blur the line between poultry and innuendo. The content is deliberately outrageous and not meant to be taken seriously, instead serving as a conversation starter or icebreaker at adult gatherings.

Often packaged to mimic legitimate self-help products, these gag gifts can include fake testimonials, before-and-after photos, or mock scientific claims that add to the comedic effect. They're popular choices for white elephant exchanges, bachelor/bachelorette parties, or as humorous stocking stuffers for adults with an appreciation for cheeky humor.

It's important to note that this type of gift is intended for mature audiences who enjoy irreverent comedy. The recipient's sense of humor and the social context should be carefully considered before giving such a present, as it may not be appropriate for all settings or individuals.

Buy now

"Great for Christmas" is a versatile phrase that evokes a sense of holiday suitability and festive charm. It's often used to describe items, activities, or experiences that align perfectly with the spirit of the season.

This could refer to cozy sweaters ideal for winter gatherings, festive decorations that transform homes into winter wonderlands, or gourmet food items that elevate holiday meals. It might describe heartwarming movies that become annual traditions, board games that bring families together, or craft kits for creating personalized ornaments.

"Great for Christmas" can also apply to experiences like ice skating outings, holiday light tours, or tickets to seasonal performances. In the culinary world, it might refer to special ingredients for holiday baking or tools for creating elaborate feasts.

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Ultimately, anything labeled "Great for Christmas" promises to enhance the holiday experience, whether by adding joy, comfort, or a touch of magic to the festive season.

Personalised Xmas decorations add a unique touch to holiday festivities, transforming generic ornaments into cherished keepsakes. These custom-made items often feature names, dates, or special messages, making them ideal for commemorating milestones or expressing affection.

Common options include baubles engraved with family names, stockings embroidered with individual monikers, and tree toppers featuring family photos. Personalized advent calendars, door wreaths, and table settings can also infuse homes with bespoke holiday cheer.

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These decorations come in various styles, from rustic wooden plaques to elegant glass ornaments, catering to different tastes and decor themes. They're popular as thoughtful gifts, perfect for newlyweds, new homeowners, or to mark a baby's first Christmas.

By incorporating personal elements, these decorations not only beautify spaces but also tell stories, creating lasting memories and adding sentimental value to holiday traditions.

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kolosceramics · 1 year ago

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#art #artists on tumblr #ceramics #contemporary art #pop art #mushrooms #ornaments #holiday decor #decor #novelty #gifts #gift ideas #gift guide

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cellythefloshie · 1 year ago

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;; Nu är det jul igen written for @mp0625 the hockey girlies fic exchange

Summary: You spend your first Christmas with your boyfriend, Freddie Andersen. Word Count: 1.2k+

A/N: It's a miracle that I was able to get enough time to get this one done! I was worried I was going to run out of time! Thank you Mara or taking the time to coordinate the exchange! It was a pleasure writing for you this year. Happy Holidays to all, I hope enjoy!

The scent in the air could only really be defined as the holidays. It was a whimsical mixture of sugar cookies, pine needles, and the simmering pot of citrus and cinnamon that you had on the stove. It was just like how it smelt back home at Christmas every year, but this year, you weren't at home with your family. This year, you were spending Christmas with your boyfriend, Freddie.

With the tight schedule, the National Hockey League kept, the holiday season could be lonely for some. Not every man on the roster had their family living in Carolina with them or could make one quick drive or flight out of state to see them for the few short days they had off. Freddie couldn’t fly home to Denmark. The 20+ hours of travel time made the trip unjustifiable. He would have to spend most of it in the air, losing precious time with his loved ones alone on a flight. And no one deserved to spend the holiday season alone.

That was why, the moment you found out he was remaining state-side for the holidays, you canceled all of your plans.

Your mother was more than understanding, although your father was wary as to why you didn’t just bring him home for the holidays. And you had half the mind to ask, but your relationship with Freddie was, well, in your mind, still new. The two of you had been together just over a year, but with his busy schedule, you found yourself apart more often than not. And while you were head over heels for him, and couldn’t wait to introduce him to your family, the last thing you wanted was to rush things.

With little protest, home for the holidays became spending Christmas Eve in Freddie’s apartment. It didn’t have the same novelties of home, but the two of you had spent the day getting into the Christmas spirit. You had put on the simmering pot in the morning, letting its smell relax you as you decorated the apartment and put up a small artificial tree in the corner, complete with lights and ornaments. Then, the two of you made cookies together, and come sunset, the two of you snacked on a charcuterie board of cheeses, nuts, meat, and fruit while bingeing some of your favorite holiday movies.

It was the last chance the two of you had to relax, because come Christmas Day, you would be conquering cooking Christmas dinner for yourselves for the first time. Which you didn’t even want to think about until morning. The giant turkey was all too intimidating for you as you sipped a glass of wine and watched the credits roll. A single hand fell to the remote, your thumb pressing the series of buttons to close the current movie and fall back into the holiday movie catalog on Netflix. Beside you, the couch shifted, Freddie getting up from his place beside you. And you didn't think much of it. Maybe he had to use the washroom or wanted to refill the bowl with some of the caramel popcorn you had made for your movie night.

Freddie didn’t return with a bowl. No, in his hands he had a large box. It wasn’t something that came in the mail, none of those big brown packing boxes. It was nicely wrapped in bright red paper with a bow so large it spilled off the top of the box and hung down the sides.

“I was going to wait until morning, but,” he started, his words perking you up with interest.

If you didn’t have to wait, you weren’t going to say no.

Opening your arms, you let Freddie settle the box in your lap. The sheer size of it left your heart racing. It wasn’t all that heavy, which gave you no clear indication of what may be inside. You hadn’t asked for anything too grand, either. Which made you all the more eager to open it.

Fingers lipped the bow from the box, the sticker holding the ribbon to the box leaving a colorless mark behind where the adhesive tore away the color. Then, you tore at the wrapping, leaving it in large rips at your sides, removing just enough to open the box and see what was inside.

The first thing you saw was a bouquet of daisies. Which made you smile. They were fresh, or as fresh as you could get them in the winter. Freddie must have just put the finishing touches on your gift before giving it to you.

“These are gorgeous,” you smiled up at him. The two of you loved daisies. They reminded him of home, and it had quickly become one of your favorites because of it.

“There’s more,” Freddie insisted, and you handed off the flowers to keep digging for more. Beneath the daisies was white green and red tissue paper and among it a series of other gifts. Your hands went to a smaller box fist. Inside, two crystal swans from Swarovski. Your eyes went wide as they rose to meet Freddie’s.

He smiled and nodded toward the box. There was more.

Then, unwrapped, a large bottle of akvavit and two glasses. And finally, an envelope. But as you reached for it, Freddie reached in with his goalie-fast reflexes and took it into his hold.

“Hey!” you shouted playfully.

“You will get it. But first, we drink. It’s tradition,” he explained with a grin, his hand wrapping around the bottle while he tucked the envelope beneath his thick thigh.

The bottle opened with a satisfying sound, and he filled each glass halfway. Together, you raised your glasses, and each took one large gulp of the liquor that burned as it traveled down your throat. It was only when your face contorted from the burn of the alcohol that Freddie offered you the envelope again.

Placing your drink down on the coffee table, you reached out and pinched the envelope between your fingers carefully. Whatever it was, he was just as excited for you to open it as you were to receive it. The gifts you already opened were just the precursor. In this envelope was the grand finale of gifts.

It’s a beautiful card, with a snowscape. Green pine trees, and snow a glitter that left traces behind on your skin. But it was what was in the card that mattered, and they fell right into your lap as you opened the card.

Two plane tickets to Denmark.

You stared at them, your eyes wide and your jaw slacked. You weren’t expecting that, and he could see it all over your face. A laugh rumbled through him, and you could feel it as his hands found your hips to draw you into his lap. “I want you to come home with me when the season is done. Meet my family.”

A heavy breath shook you, his gaze raising to meet his warm stare. You had been on the same page the entire time but had always been too worried to ask. But he was telling you now. The two of you were serious. He wanted you to meet his family, and he could meet yours. It left you beaming, your smile reaching your eyes as you gave him an eager nod. Of course, you would go, and you sealed the agreement with a warm, simple kiss with both of his hands, cradling each of your cheeks as he drew you in. And as he held you there, he pulled back ever so slightly and muttered out a soft, Merry Christmas.

#frederik andersen #freddie andersen #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nhl rpf #hockey rpf #hockey imagines #hockey girlies fic exchange #happy holidays #carolina hurricanes

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anabdaniels · 1 year ago

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Christmas purchases

Paring: Agent Whiskey x Female Reader

Word counting: 960

Rating: +18

Warning: Fingering, movement restrain

Main Masterlist | Cowboycember Masterlist

If it was a competition, you’d probably beat the little children on the excitement of that shopping day. In all the time you were married, Jack always had accompanied you during shopping with all the goodwill and patience one could have and it wasn’t different on that afternoon, even with you entering five different stores to find the perfect ornaments for the Christmas tree.

When all that was missing for the decoration was bought, you were planning to go home, but of course, you ended up trapped by your favorite clothing store with a breathtaking holiday collection on display. You told yourself and Jack that it would be just a quick looking around to see the novelties, and his response to that was a simple “Of course.” followed by a chuckle.

Two hours later, you were finally back at the ranch, with more shopping bags you would be proud of, but the joint of your excitement and Jack assuring you that he was more than happy to use his bank card to buy whatever your heart may desire got you carried away.

“I still have the feeling I forgot something.” You said while observing everything you had bought spread all over the living room.

“Considering that you got sweaters to our dogs and an ornament to all the horses, should I be concerned ‘bout what you might’ve forgotten?” Jack looked at you with a raised eyebrow, trying to remain serious.

“I warned you about how dangerous it could be to let me around so many animals.” You said with a convinced smile while moving to inspect another bag, realizing that was your new dresses “I hope you know that you’ll help me choose between them.” You said while examining one of the dresses.

“And let me remind you that I don’t care about what dress you’ll wear.” He stated while hugging you from behind “What matters is the fact that, at the end of the day, I’ll be the one taking ‘em off.” Softly he nibbled your cheek while letting one of his hands move down to grope your butt, only this being enough to make you squirm and melt between his arms. Before you could think straight, you already were lying on your stomach on the sofa, with your hips resting on Jack’s lap.

“Do I want to know what you have on mind?” you questioned while turning your head to look at him.

“You see, honey, I had different plans for you once we got home.” Jack answered while caressing your ass “But you seem to forget that I ain’t 20 years old anymore.”

“Fair enough.” You chuckled and rested your head on the cushion, enjoying the warmth of his hands on your butt.

Unworriedly, Jack moved his hands under your skirt, moving it up and making no flourishes as he tangled his fingers on the sides of your panties, sliding the fabric down your legs and letting it on the sofa seat next to him.

With your forearms crossed under the cushion, you contorted slightly as you felt his rough warm palm brush the sensitive skin of your inner thigh while his free hand was resting on your lower back, softly massaging the region. You arched your back as his fingertips circled your wet folds, but the hand on your back prevented you from moving more than that while Jack pushed your hips against his lap.

Sinking your face on the cushion and whimpering was the most you could do as his index and middle fingers slid inside you and his thumb pressed and rubbed your clit. Aware of the teaser man you were married to, you were prepared for him to keep that cruel slow pace until you were begging for more, but of course, it was Jack fucking Daniels, the least trustable motherfucker when the subject was sex, you should have foreseen that sudden change of pace.

“Shit…” you mumbled while choking on your breath and squeezing the cushion, listening to the noise of the few tree ornaments that were next to you falling on the floor, but unable to care about it.

“No, no. Y’didn’t made me walk that much downtown to break the decoration now.” Given your inebriated state, you didn’t realize what Jack was doing while pulling both of your wrists behind your back until he held them together.

You looked over your shoulder, ready to complain, but barred from doing it when Jack curled his fingers inside you, resulting in you closing your eyes and moaning indecently loud. Smirking satisfied with your reaction, Jack kept the consistency of his task, mercilessly rubbing your clit and keeping hitting that devastating spot inside you over and over.

Uselessly you tried to pull your wrists from his grip, even knowing it wouldn’t work. Having not much more to do, you started to move your hips against his hand, becoming a mess of whimpers, swearing, and moans. In no time your hips were having a few spasms and your legs were trembling slightly and you cried out as you came, tightening Jack’s fingers inside you and melting on the sofa, feeling the damp spot on his jeans against your skin. After a moment, you moved your torso slightly to look at Jack when you felt his hand petting your hair.

“Every time I make you spend a whole afternoon shopping this will be the consequence?”

“Why do you ask?” he questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“Because if it is, I think we’ll need to go shopping again tomorrow.” Jack chuckled and leaned on the sofa to approach his face from yours.

“I wouldn’t make such a decision yet, sugarcube. I’ve never said I’m already done with ya.” He winked at you and leaned to press a soft kiss on your lips.

#agent whiskey #agent whiskey fic #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #jack daniels #jack whiskey daniels #Kingsman: the golden circle #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedrostories

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championofravens · 1 day ago

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As someone who is Jewish and is finally at a point where I can feel some sort of fondness for Christmas, I absolutely know I had to make that choice to weather the storm of marrying into a family that celebrates it. I am grateful there are things about Christmas I like because I absolutely HAD to start liking it if I didn't want to end every year in a cosmically bad mood.

Thus I am now ironically the enforcer of Christmas cheer. Because if you're gonna make me drive down to celebrate your holiday and mail cards and bake cookies and wrap gifts, I REQUIRE that energy be returned in kind. We pulled up to my in-laws and the Christmas tree was BARE, no decorations on the front lawn, all grumpy and grumbling- I did not stand for it. What is the point of being culturally boxed into a holiday I don't celebrate if you don't even get the novelty of like hanging pretty things on a tree that's inside your house or putting shit on your lawn???

By the time we left, the tree was decorated, FIL put up the glowing reindeer lawn ornaments, MIL made caramel apple cider, they bought us stockings, and we had a grand ol holly jolly time.

#text

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cherryliqueurkinks · 4 days ago

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their perfect daughter

While Veronica is away, Betty spends the holidays with the Lodges.

pairing: betty cooper/hermione lodge/hiram lodge

READ ON AO3

It's easy enough to convince Veronica to treat herself to a spa weekend away over Christmas break. The Vixens and Pop's and La Bonne Nuit have taken up every spare minute she's had since school started, not to mention the fact that she needs to sort out the mess of her affair with Reggie now that Archie is home. Winter break is the perfect excuse for her to leave Riverdale behind, if only for a few days, and she promises that Betty is more than welcome to continue hiding from her mother and sister and all mentions of The Farm in Veronica's room while she's gone.

Her parents are barely home anymore, she insists, and they have far too much on their plates to pay Betty any attention, anyway.

It's on the tip of Betty's tongue to admit that she wants nothing more than to have their attention, and with Veronica gone for the next three days, that's exactly what she'll get. Instead, she squeezes Veronica in a hug and makes the girl promise to enjoy her time getting spoiled.

Betty certainly will.

"Don't you look darling, mija," a voice purrs as Betty stands in the middle of Hermione Lodge's luxurious closet, her face flushing under the woman's gaze as it slides down from the thin, white ribbons tied in her pigtails to the thigh high socks on her feet. Under any other circumstance, she'd feel vastly underdressed among all of the fine silks and satins and lace, but the appreciative - and admittedly amused - glint in Hermione's eyes is enough to make up for it.

Hermione gestures for Betty to turn towards the mirror, and the moment she catches sight of her reflection, she blushes even hotter. Her cashmere Christmas sweater (in her signature pink, of course) comes down to the tops of her thighs, just long enough to consider her covered but certainly not long enough to hide the fact that she isn't wearing anything underneath. Paired with her pink-and-white candy cane-striped socks and dangling, pink ornament earrings twinkling against the ribbons in her hair, she looks like a naughty novelty come to life. It's a stark contrast from the lace and leather Hermione typically chooses for her, or the near-indecent cocktail gowns that Hiram enjoys wrapping her into, but it seems even they can't help but indulge in a little pedestrian festivity this time of year.

Placing a hand on Betty's shoulder, Hermione comes to stand behind her, her red satin pantsuit almost embarrassingly elegant in comparison to the childlike pinks and whites of Betty's outfit. But Betty hardly has a chance to dwell on this as Hermione lifts her other hand up, revealing the bejeweled princess plug twinkling in the palm of her hand.

Betty's blush grows hotter, if possible, and Hermione's smile widens in the mirror.

"Now for the finishing touch."

Hiram gives another sharp tug on her pigtails as he pulls Betty in closer, fucking her mouth in shallow, leisurely strokes as he lounges back in his leather desk chair.

When Betty had entered his office, carrying a serving tray with a single tumbler of spiced rum, he'd barely paid the alcohol any mind as his gaze raked down her outfit the same slow, indulgent way his wife's had. He'd beckoned her to stand between his legs, sliding a hand under the hem of her sweater and over the curve of her ass until his fingers found the jeweled end of the plug, and a satisfied smirk graced his lips. "How precious," he murmured, giving a few tugs on the plug until Betty whimpered, making his smirk grow as he watched her bite back a moan.

Then, with a smack of her ass, he pulled his hand away to pluck the glass off of the tray. "Why don't you have a drink with me?" he asked, the command clear in his tone as he widened his legs, and Betty's legs quivered as she lowered herself to her knees before him.

And that's where she still finds herself now, her knees aching and her clit throbbing as his cock hits the back of her throat with each thrust. Hiram has already come down her throat once, just after draining his rum and promising that she'll have her fill soon enough, and it should feel impossible that he's already on the verge of coming again. But she can feel him twitching, can taste the saltiness dripping from his tip as he pulls her off with a wet pop and tugs her in close, and it's instinctual, the way Betty starts lapping at the firm silkiness of his sack the way he loves. It earns her a long, low groan, spurring her into nuzzling her face in closer, sucking and licking and nipping at his base as her hand curls around the thickness of his cock.

"Such a good girl," he murmurs, a low string of Spanish curses following as she licks up the underside of his cock, pumping him almost clumsily until one of his hands curls around hers to quicken her strokes. His other hand stays tangled in her hair, holding her in place as if she'd ever try to pull away, and Betty lolls her tongue out as he comes with a loud groan. His milky seed spurts from his tip with each stroke of their hands around his cock, splashing across her cheeks, her eyelids, the bridge of her nose, until he finally empties himself onto her waiting tongue.

Betty swallows every last drop, licking her lips with a small whine as she presses her knees together as if that will stave off the way her entire body is buzzing from her arousal.

"Oh my," a voice purrs with feigned disapproval, heels clicking against the floor as she draws closer, and Betty gasps as she feels a tongue dart against her cheek, lapping up the drips of Hiram's cum. "You weren't supposed to make a mess of her before dinner, dear."

Hiram's chuckle is still a little gravelly from his orgasm. "You knew exactly what would happen when you sent her in here, mi alma."

Hermione tuts, producing a tissue to carefully wipe off the rest of Hiram's milky release from her face, and then she licks into Betty's panting mouth, humming at the taste of her husband's cum on Betty's tongue. Betty lets out another whine as Hermione pulls away far too soon, earning a laugh from both of them as Hermione stands once more.

"I'd say Daddy has worked up a proper appetite by now, hasn't he?" Hermione asks, discarding the cum-stained tissue in the wastebin under Hiram's desk before leaning over to place a deep, dirty kiss on her husband's lips. "Why don't you finish up in here so we can eat?"

There's a knowing glint in Hiram's eyes as he gazes down at Betty once more. "That sounds wonderful, mi vida."

"O-oh," Betty moans, her head tipping back over the arm of the couch as her hips gyrate, though she doesn't know if she wants to squirm away or chase the high right over the edge again. She's far too sensitive from her orgasm, but Hiram and Hermione keep her pinned in place with her legs hiked over their shoulders, licking and nipping and sucking at her cunt in between their own filthy kisses with her taste on both of their tongues. "Ah!" she gasps, eyes nearly rolling back as she feels Hiram sinking two fingers into her as Hermione's thumb comes down on her clit in fast, tight circles. "A-ahh!"

"That's our good girl," Hermione coos, licking the sensitive skin at the crease of her thigh. "You always come so pretty for us."

"You need to give us another one, princesa," Hiram goads, curling his fingers, hitting that spot inside of Betty that has her body trembling. "You always give us what we want, don't you?"

Betty whines, nearly shaking her head, knowing her orgasm is coming too quickly - but then Hermione's mouth replaces her thumb, sucking her clit hard as Hiram nips the inside of Betty's thigh, and Betty keens out with her release, pleasure crashing over her as she writhes atop the couch. All the while, their fingers and lips never stop moving, never stop tasting her as they wring out every last drop of pleasure, until she practically shoves both of their heads away.

And they let her, laughing as they share another kiss, tongues sweeping against each other. Betty whimpers, the tremors of her orgasm still racking through her, but she still feels an impossible throb of arousal as she watches their kiss grow deeper and filthier. Hermione discarded her pantsuit after dinner, revealing a red lingerie set that was little more than a large, satin bow tied over her tits and two smaller bows tied at her hips, held by a scrap of lace that left her pussy perfectly exposed.

Hiram toys with one of those bows now as Hermione pants into his mouth, but then he's pulling away, giving his wife a loud smack on her ass and a shove, and Hermione chuckles as she curls herself over Betty. She draws one of the girl's legs under hers, her hands slipping under Betty's sweater as she slides their hips together, and Betty's lips part on a moan as Hermione's slick cunt fits against hers.

Hermione hums, rolling her hips and grinding their clits together as she bunches Betty's sweater up and over her full, aching tits, palming them as she starts to build a rhythm of their slick cunts sliding together. "Mm," she hums, bending Betty's knee higher as she quickens the snap of her hips, somehow making her thrusts firm yet still sensual. "Your cute little cunt is always so wet for us, mija," she breathes out, twirling and tugging at Betty's nipples.

"It isn't just your cunt that's needy, isn't it, mi amor?" Hiram asks, smirking down at Betty over Hermione's shoulder as he tugs on the ends of the large, satin ribbon of Hermione's bra, undoing the bow and letting her lush tits fall free. They sway with the force of Hermione's humping as her eyelids lower, her breaths growing heavier as she uses the wet friction of Betty's cunt to chase her own pleasure.

He maneuvers Betty's leg out from under Hermione, instead hiking them over his wife's shoulders once more as he presses their bodies together. Though she has to slow the roll of her hips, the change in the friction has Betty gasping, her pussy tingling and fluttering as Hermione grinds their swollen clits tighter together.

"Such a greedy girl," Hiram sighs, cupping one of Hermione's tits and feeding it into Betty's panting mouth, humming in satisfaction at the way Betty eagerly sucks the hardened peak between her lips. Hermione moans, writhing between them, her hips growing sloppier as Betty nips and suckles at her nipple. "Your mouth needs to be full just like your ass and your cunt," he taunts.

Betty whines, lapping at Hermione's nipple, feeling the pleasure tightening at the base of her spine with every snap of Hermione's hips. Everything feels heady and hot, her vision blurring at the edges once more, until the sharp pinch of the anal plug being tugged out of her cuts through the haze. She gasps, eyes flying open as Hiram curls over them, tucking Hermione's body tightly between them, and Betty gasps as his hands dig into the swell of her ass to hold her open.

Above her, Hermione comes with a sharp exhale, dissolving into a stuttering moan as she begins to writhe from the waves of pleasure, and Betty's eyes are practically roll back as she grinds their throbbing clits even harder against each other.

Only this time, she can feel the blunt head of Hiram's cock pressing against her twitching rim.

"Looks like Daddy will have to help you and Mommy stay awake until midnight," he sighs, smirking down at Betty as he sinks his cock into her ass, inch by inch, making her whine against Hermione's nipple. "We still have to try out all of your presents, after all."

#betty cooper x hermione lodge x hiram lodge #fic

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