#Santa clause isn’t real

[robfozdarling]

It’s ok Fozzie, Santa’s real, don’t listen to them

Just a little silly for Christmas time hehe

Here’s the pictures individually

He’s so sad :(

[kedsandtubesocks]

Mr. Winter

Santa!Joel Miller x F!Reader

summary: you wrote that letter to Santa as a joke (knowing he obviously wouldn’t answer it) until he does - and he comes with a proposition

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI. no outbreak/modern AU & Joel has both his daughters, marriage of convenience, unspecified age gap (reader’s age is not mentioned but is a drinking aged adult & Joel is older), yearning, fluff with light angst, grumpy but sweetheart!Joel, caregiver!Joel with slight sugar daddy!Joel vibes, brief moments of dealing with toxic family, Joel lifts reader once with his Santa strength, spicy thoughts, heavy making out, fingering, glove & finger sucking, use of “good girl,” Joel’s dirty talk & referring to himself as “old man,” one light ass smack, reader wears lingerie, Santa!kink (?), use of gendered language

word count: 9.1k (I’m sorry)

a/n: yeah… hi lol this is heavily influenced and based off “The Santa Clause” films but you don’t need to know those to read - biggest thank you to my favorite enablers & Santa’s cutest helpers @pedgito & @hauntedhowlett ily…also happy holidays, if you’re reading this I can’t thank you enough & hope a little magic comes your way ♡ divider credit to the ever talented @saradika-graphics

You wrote the dumb letter at the end of the semester class party. You’re thankful everyone decided to write papers instead of having a final, a grad school blessing, which meant class was done by the last week of November. Your professor even had set up the cutest Letters to Santa Station, and your friend begged you to write one with her.

So you did.

And you jokingly asked Santa for one thing - to send you a boyfriend.

Of course you know the big guy isn’t real and wouldn’t ever answer. It’s why you didn’t think much of it.

But now, if there’s any hope Santa could be real, you wonder if maybe he could just grant you one small wish…

You’re happy for your best friend, you truly are. Her wedding reception is beautiful, you just need a moment.

It finally hit you that you’re the last of your friend group not married. And as the cozy colder winter days bring in the couples closer during the slow song, you simply take a moment outside to collect yourself.

The once warmed spiked hot chocolate you’ve been enjoying now sits cold, not so festive.

Someone calls to you, says your name in a thick southern molasses smooth accent you don’t recognize.

Turning to the door, you definitely don’t know who this man is because you would have remembered someone this stunning.

Dressed down in some jeans and a sharp looking blazer, there’s almost a cowboy like air to this man. Rugged, older with lovely streaks of wrinkles and shining grey hair, a gorgeous sharp hawk nose, and dark as the deep earth eyes stare at you - he’s flat out gorgeous.

“Got your letter.” He cryptically announces, and confusion clusters in you.

This handsome stranger lifts up the overly festive candy cane colored envelope, the one you picked at the party a few days ago when you wrote your letter to Santa.

Slightly panicked, now you question who this man is.

The mystery man fidgets, painting him younger. He shifts to put his hands on his hips.

“Alright… there ain’t no easy way to put this, so imma just say it.” He starts. “I got many names… Father Christmas, Ol’ Saint Nick. Shit like that.”

Those dark unearthed eyes stare unflinching at you.

“But you can call me Joel.”

“Wait…What are you saying?” Bewilderment and skepticism bubble in your voice.

He sighs, ancient and tired, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Don’t make me say it.” He grumbles.

“Wait are you saying you’re like, fucking Santa Claus or something?” You can’t even believe it.

His large hand moves away from his face, and the man, Joel, stays silent. The somber stillness makes this feel worse.

A disbelief filled laugh escapes you.

“Yeah okay, nice try.” You lift your drink to him, a slight mock cheers, then take a sip. It’s cold as hell and tastes bitter.

“I know it sounds fucking crazy as shit-”

“The Santa I know wouldn't cuss.” You playfully cut him off deciding to now embrace this joke.

His face grows foul, hard with a frown, not so very Kris Kringle like. With deliberate steps he moves slightly closer to you.

“Two years ago… who d’ya think dropped off that snow globe, huh?” His voice dips low, bordering a deadly seriousness, and you inhale sharp.

Two years ago, you and your mom’s favorite snow globe shattered. It felt silly getting so upset over such a strange object, but you couldn’t find a replacement anywhere.

Then after everyone had opened their gifts and family had left, you spotted a lone gift still tucked away hidden under the tree.

It was the snow globe, new and perfectly wrapped. You know you didn’t get it for your mom and the way she teared up, she didn’t get it for you. None of your other family members knew the significance of it.

“It has to be a Christmas miracle,” your mom had said. You didn’t believe it.

Now you stare a bit horrified and in shock at the man who knows about this.

Silence suffocates the air between you and him.

“Make a reindeer show up.” You blurt out.

The man, Joel, snorts dry and amused.

“Don’t need reindeer. S’a myth.” He replies low.

Your eyes narrow suspicious at him now.

“Can you make it snow?”

“M’not Jack Frost.” He scoffs offended.

“Santa always leaves snow from his boots.” You argue back.

“It’s for the dang effect.” Joel argues back.

“Can’t be Santa then.” You shrug.

He makes a disgruntled sigh of a noise. Glaring hard, he waves his hand out to the wind. Suddenly the wind blows strong, a howling gust rushing against you, so blustery you need to cover your face. When the wind stops you realize you’re lightly covered in snow.

You almost drop your not so hot chocolate.

Joel must sense your shock. He takes your drink from your hand, takes a sip and makes a disgusted face.

“Look… came here for a reason. I think we might be able to help each other out.

He’s here with a proposition.

“I… need a wife.” He declares with a deadpan like energy.

Now you almost laugh again.

“What, did Mrs Claus divorce you?” You joke.

“Never been married.” He frowns.

Oh.

“So why now?” Curiosity peeks up in you fast.

“Legal shit.” His words don’t allow for more prying. “I’ll explain it all later. Just needed to find ya to see if we can get this done.”

“Wait, why me?”

He lifts up that damn letter again, waves it around.

“Y’said you wanted a boyfriend.” He almost sounds bored.

“This isn’t the same.” You squak, indignant.

“Look,” he now returns to that deep somber tone.

“I need this. And you’d be… compensation.” His voice shifts slightly awkwardly.

He mentions your loans, all the debt you have, and how he might be able to help out. Your eyes feel like they’re about to pop out their sockets.

Commotion finally arrives at the door leading back inside.

Joel takes a sip of your drink, then hands it back to you.

“Think it over.” He says low.

The door slides open, and your other friend flings her head out.

“Hey come on! They’re cutting the cake!” She brightly exclaims, but her face scrunches up confused.

“Wait, who were you talking to?” She asks.

Your eyes flicker to the spot where Joel would be.

No one stands next to you. All that’s left is snow and the imprint of boots.

You also notice…your hot chocolate has been warmed.

-

“Santa lives here? In Austin Texas? What happened to the North Pole?” Walking behind him, you sound like a bummed out kid who just found out Santa isn’t real.

“Shit said to throw the FBI off.” Joel Miller replies bluntly, and you don’t know if he’s joking or not.

His house, rustic and cozy, holds a spacious warmth. But it feels vacant, unusually quiet for a man known to bring joy and the personification of Christmas warmth.

“So how does one become Santa?” You ask.

“Long story.” Another curt reply.

“Well, if I’m gonna be your wife shouldn’t I know these things?” Just saying the words aloud didn’t seem real.

You can’t believe you’re doing this.

The new home draws in your full attention trying to soak it all in. So many photos of two girls cover the walls and they grow right before your eyes. Curiously, you ask about them.

“They’re my daughters.” Joel answers simple.

Your eyes go wide.

He had children.

“They’re the reason why we’re here actually.” Joel adds while he moves around his cozy kitchen.

He reveals ‘Santa Claus’ is simply a title for someone to fill. It’s a hefty role. Joel was able to get away without having a spouse with his first daughter, and then again with his second. But now with her about to enter college, Joel was alone.

The stipulation to marry now stood between him and having the title stripped from him.

“Why do you even need to get married?”

“Some shit about needing companionship and other fuckin’ bullshit.” He gruffly explains.

“You could retire.” You offer.

“Don’t wanna.” He roughly replies grabbing papers out of a drawer.

“So your daughters… I’m sure they must’ve been over the moon knowing their dad was Santa.” You try breaking the ice more.

Placing a pen on the table, Joel sighs.

“Look, we don’t gotta do this.” He snaps tight. “This small talk and shit. The sooner we can get this signed and started, the sooner we can get this over with.”

His words sting, becoming sharp barbs that dig in deep.

“Fine.” You grab the pen ready to sign whatever the hell this guy has for you.

A back door opens, and commotion follows. A handsome younger man, with the same dark eyes like Joel that instead sparkle, walks into the kitchen from the garage. Following him are two much older gentleman, one with kind eyes and the other with a glare that could whither a field

“Well now, is this the soon to be Mrs Joel Miller?” The youngest of the bunch says bright and sunny.

Joel introduces you to his brother, Tommy, who is an exact opposite to his sour puss older sibling. Frank, an old family friend, is here to officiate the ceremony. His husband, Bill, would be the other witnesses besides Tommy. Frank and Tommy are thankfully sweet, obviously curious about you.

“Can we get this fuckin’ done with?” Joel snaps.

Now your annoyance triples, and you’re thankful Tommy and Frank chide Joel. Bill snorts amused.

But wanting to leave now too, you’re quick to agree to start the ceremony.

It’s done short and simple in the kitchen - Frank asking you and Joel to take each other as husband and wife. You agree briskly. Joel just nods. There’s not even an exchange of rings, or a kiss to conclude the ceremony.

Joel simply sticks his hand out, a damn handshake becomes your official agreement, your binding wedding vow.

You maybe should have read over the marriage agreement more, could have been smarter and brought a lawyer, even one that might have believed you. But you’re pissed. You simply sign the papers, let Frank go over the documentation, then gather your things.

“Wait, you ain’t gonna stay for lunch?” Joel suddenly questions seeing you get up to leave.

“We got this over with, didn't we, husband? That’s all you wanted right?” Your words are clipped, polite but sharp, that they even sting you.

You apologize to Tommy and Frank for meeting like this. Yet you don’t say another word to your new husband who feels more of a stranger than ever.

-

When you get back to your mom’s place a new sticky note sits on your night stand.

Sorry about today, let me make it up to you.

-J

Underneath is his phone number.

Guess he’s showing off the very classic Santa trick of slipping into houses without anyone noticing he pulled off a breaking and entering.

He answers on the second ring when you call.

“I got Santa’s personal number?” You offer with a gentle treading tone.

“Yeah, yeah.” Joel huffs.

It eases the tension. But hesitation still brews thick, an awkwardness of trying to talk to a stranger who just so happens to be your new husband.

“Uh, shit…Sorry about earlier. Didn’t end up eating lunch. You up for a bite to eat? I'll pay?” His voice is open, letting you decide.

Agreeing, he shows up to your door in record timing.

“Is this traveling fast a Santa thing? How can you travel so fast?” Your curiosity gets the best of you.

Joel simply smirks, not answering, but the silence dances playful now.

He takes you to a cozy barbecue spot on the lake. The Texas winter makes the days crisp, almost stuck between autumn and full blown winter. But in the midday sun, it's rather lovely.

“I’m surprised you’re not busy with everything coming up.” You’re trying stepping into the conversation as eased and natural as possible.

“If I’m tryin’ to scramble to get shit done by now, then I ain’t doing my job right.” He says taking a sip of his beer, and his words ignite a burst of heat in you.

It's attractive… he’s attractive. You can’t deny that.

Lunch is surprisingly casual, relaxed. Joel asks about grad school and about your major, asks about your family. It vaguely feels like a regular first date.

However this is treading the waters between you and him and this strange new circumstance.

This situation has been gnawing at you. Anxiously, you wonder if he judges you for agreeing so quickly, for jumping in because of the money.

“Hey,” it's like he senses your quiet already.

“You still don’t gotta do this. I can head back home right now, rip up those papers and start again.” A sincere tone, gilded in understanding, rings in his voice.

He’s giving you a way out. You shake your head.

You want to see this as something good. So raising your drink up, it’s another cheers to him. This time Joel moves to toast you with his beer.

“I’d call this the strangest wedding reception ever but hey, I’ll take it.” Joel nods. His mountainous shoulders drop seemingly relaxed more.

You laugh, and for the first time, it feels like you’re sitting across a new friend now… who just happens to be your husband.

-

You and Joel start texting. It’s still a bit awkward, and he’s a dry texter which doesn’t help. You get tempted to send him Santa memes, but you’re not sure you can joke with him more.

You check your loans. They’re still there looming like a thick unmovable sludge. So he hasn’t paid it off yet.

Reality and acceptance settles in. This man, the embodiment of Christmas joy, is just that busy even though he said he wasn’t.

At least you helped, or maybe unknowingly sold your soul away and just don’t know it yet. Whatever it is, you slip back into your regular routine and head back to your mom’s.

Pulling up an unknown older red truck sits in front of the house, and you wonder who’s its owner.

Walking inside your mom announces she’s in the kitchen. Tools scattered along the table are a reliving sight. So it’s just the plumber she finally called.

“You didn’t tell me the guy you were seeing is a handy man.” Your mom whispers excitedly.

As if on cue Joel struts out from the bathroom looking something straight from a hallmark movie. The green plaid shirt he wears compliments him beautifully, and it’s hard not to stare at him and his delicious broad ass shoulders.

“Hey.” He greets with a half smirk.

“Was in the neighborhood, wanted to stop by and see if ya wanted to get dinner tonight. Then I remembered you telling me about your mom’s sink.”

You mentioned that during your first lunch with him. How did he remember?

Something soft, swirling with longing, fills your chest, and you try swallowing it back. As thanks, your mom happily suggests Joel joining for dinner here, and panic strikes you fast.

Joel grins bigger seeing you scramble to dissuade him. Of course he agrees.

You never would have guessed Joel ‘prickly as a Christmas cactus’ Miller is a charmer. He even pays for takeout much to your mother’s surprise.

“Didn’t know he was so much…older.” She hesitantly comments when he leaves.

“It’s been nice dating someone more mature.” You half lie. You aren’t ready to tell her the guy is your husband.

Later you text him thanks for fixing the sink and for dinner.

What are husbands for? He replies back.

And you really wish you knew.

-

You’ve wanted to go see the trail of lights, but with your mom working late for the holidays and your friends out of town, you consider making the trip alone.

Until your phone rings.

Joel has now started calling you, simply to chat, ask about how your day is, even just to check up on you. It makes your heart jump.

“Whatcha up to?” His voice rumbles deep and wonderful over the phone.

“Wanted to go to the trail of lights but might skip. No one wants to go.” You sigh.

“I’ll go.” He quickly replies, and your head spins.

If you thought Joel in plaid was a deadly force, him in a thick winter brown coat that highlights his strong frame is an utter sight.

The array of candy colored lights coat the world in a beautiful celestial dream. You’re thankful it’s not busy tonight.

“I’ve always loved Christmas lights.” You admit. It’s one of your favorite parts of being back home.

Surprisingly, he curiously asks about you more, what brought you back home. You of course tell him the truth. Out of state college got too expensive in undergrad, and now going to grad school expenses started piling up.

“So I’m back home.” You simply shrug.

“Ain’t no shame in it.”

You beam at his earnest words.

“Y’know, I haven’t been here in so long.” Joel admits. “Used to come here with the girls all the time when they were little.”

Wanting to embrace this tiny step he’s taking, you ask what they’re like. A soft look, one molten and fatherly, blooms over his face. It suits him, like he was born to be a dad in any lifetime.

Sarah is his eldest, a sweetheart going to school to be a journalist. He had her when was young, way too young, and her mother wasn’t big on wanting to raise a kid at that age.

“So it was just the two of you?” You softly ask.

“Yup, until our Ellie came along.” He nods while another soft grin tugs at his lips.

He tells you Ellie is adopted.

“S’actually a wild story.” Joel begins. “Found her during a run.”

A run, you learn quickly, is when he’s out on Christmas Eve.

“Newborn baby crying on the edge of the fire station. It was freezing as shit that night. Couldn’t just leave her there.” He mutters lost in the memory.

You and him have slowed your walk, now almost glued to each other side by side.

“Was a goddamn miracle.” He adds nodding.

“That’s beautiful, Joel.” You admire, meaning your words.

He goes on telling you Ellie’s already working in her last year of high school, ready to move out, be on her own, ready to start college.

“So I bet when they were kids they were thrilled to know their dad was… who you are.” You state with a warm grin.

Joel barks hollow.

“Couldn’t even threaten them with the naughty list deal. To them I’ll always be dad.” His voice twinkles, it’s like peeling away at the rough exterior to realize Joel is just an extra toasty marshmallow.

He’s still so warm and soft on the inside.

“Can I ask… how did it happen?” You’re worried he’s going to shut you out like he did last time.

But a heavy exhale leaves him. And he tells you…

About a night driving home during the bad snow storm that came many years ago. He stopped to help this man on the side of the road, who he assumed was a mall Santa that had gotten into an accident.

“Instead it was the real fucking deal.”

After that, the previous holder of the title passed away, leaving Joel to take up the mantle.

“Had to say yes,” he says with a shrug. “Even at five years old Sarah was bossin’ me around, telling me I had to…. Haven’t regretted it since.”

Iridescent adoration swallows your body whole begging you to embrace Joel Miller wholly.

“It’s wonderful. It’s brought you so many amazing things,” You can’t even hide your admiration anymore, don’t want to. You don’t want to fight this. You’d be his real fake wife for long as he would let you.

Joel’s face turns to you. His eyes glance straight into your very being, the lights dance among his endless earthen eyes. You want to get lost in the twinkle, already hating how badly you feel drawn to this man.

You try taking in every ounce of Joel here under the cloak of lights. He’s a dream, this fake husband of yours, one that feels like you’re simply allowed to admire but never touch.

Being this close to him, your eyes unfortunately drift to his lips. How bad would it be to kiss this man?

There’s plenty of songs about kissing Santa Claus. Would you simply not be embracing the holiday spirit?

A distant car horn honks and causes you to jump, breaking the hypnotic spell Joel has cast on you. Walking out, sadly heading home, you finally notice something.

It could be the shade of the lights, but the greys in Joel’s beard are starting to appear white.

-

The week before Christmas is a chaotic cluster. So much cleaning and shopping, you want to scream. Joel calls you while you’re braving the mall.

“You sound exhausted, honey.” He says, and the pet name isn’t lost on you.

But it is lost on your rant though. You’re exhausted from trying to find these specific dang muffins your grandmother only refuses to eat while also trying to find a gift for your cousins.

“Gift cards are a lifesaver for a reason.” He comments casually.

“You grant Christmas wishes for a living, and that’s your answer.” You snort.

“I’ve delivered my share of ‘em, so hell yeah they are.”

Even in the mess of the mall’s chaos you laugh. In such a short amount of time, Joel’s presence in your life has solidified steady, unwavering, like he’s always been here. Long chats on drives home, him dropping by with groceries to deliver, it all unfolds so natural. You’re even heading over tonight to have dinner with him and his brother Tommy.

Once you’re back in the car, you notice a new bag sitting in the backseat.

Reacting in you discover not only the damn elusive dinner rolls you’ve been searching for, but a pack of gift cards.

A sticky note sits on top of them.

Don’t hate the gift card

-J

You blame the Yuletide spirit in the air, but your heart soars. It’s like you’ve been swept into a Christmas special. But, you’re waiting for the bad ending to come.

These feelings for Joel have only multiplied, taking root deeper in your heart. The sugared admiration for him now grows fangs becoming a dazed lust. You’ve had dreams of him sweaty and golden above you in bed. You ache to know what he sounds like, to know the feeling of him inside you, to get drunk on his taste.

Heading over to Joel’s you kick away those dangerous thoughts you have for your husband.

A sweet woman answers the door, who introduces herself as Maria, Tommy’s wife.

“Nice to finally meet Joel’s not so secret, secret wife.” She grins. Guess that meant she knew the secret too.

She knows more than you even do as she guides you out back. The shed sitting in the corner of the backyard is unassuming. Yet when you step inside, a full workshop, the size of a Costco, stands glimmering before you.

“It never gets old.” Maria whispers, sensing your stunned awe.

Joel finally steps into view, and you’re taken back. The white among his beard sits stronger. He’s in more comfortable clothes and the gray sweatpants are sinful on him. The sight of his strong arms, his tummy through his tight white shirt, all make you think of biting into his skin -

You yank yourself out of the feral thoughts. Especially when Joel spots you. He blinks, just as stunned as you are.

“Hey, sorry. Got shit tied up here. Y’don’t gotta stay, might not be done until... fuck I don’t even know when.” He sighs, running a hand across his face.

“Can I help?” You blurt out.

Joel blinks at you, almost like he didn’t hear what you said and even squints a bit making him as old as he is.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” You ask again.

Joel swallows. “You don’t, fuck...Ya don’t have to.”

You want to and determinedly tell him that.

His eyes widened like you just grew two heads. He recovers swiftly, nodding as he calls Tommy over. The younger Miller brother sees you and winks.

“Come on newbie, let’s getcha set up.”

You, Maria and Tommy are in charge of bulk orders making sure each package has the right amount and ready to be delivered.

“Does he… really have a list?” You ask with a whisper.

“Checks it twice too.” Tommy cheekily replies, and you laugh bubbling with disbelief, but apologize quickly.

“S’all good, trust me it took me a while to realize it’s real. But it’s something damn special once you do.”

You fully agree.

The night is long, but you don’t notice it. You get into a grove and get excited when Maria shows you some of the orders, children getting bikes, someone getting a new pair of shoes. It fills you with something luminous you can’t fully describe.

It’s a reward in itself when you finish a large order and high five Maria and Tommy.

“Well now, we finally get to meet the new Mrs. Joel Miller.” A new voice, smooth but curious, breaks the moment.

Behind you stand a small cluster of older men. You don’t know how, but you just know they’re all previous holders of the title of Father Christmas. It’s only confirmed when Tommy whispers it sharp to you. So these retired men were the ones pestering Joel.

“They usually drop by to do audits, checks and things, didn’t know they would be here this late.” Maria adds low.

“We’ve been wanting to stop by and give our congratulations, but Joel has been so keen on keeping you all to himself.” One of the older gentlemen winks.

You politely smile.

“You’re rather young.” Another man comments.

“Way too pretty for a grouch like Miller.” One, with a thick accent, teases with a grin.

Joel suddenly, as if summoned, comes rushing out from the side and immediately slides in front of you, a protective barrier.

“You’re running a bit behind schedule.” The snarkiest of the men comments to Joel. “Guess the new wife really has been keeping you away.”

Your face scrunches up pissed now, until Joel’s hand moves to hold yours, squeezing it tight.

“He even has you helping, dear?” One of the quieter men asks you, concerned.

“I’m happy to help.” You truthfully answer steady and firm.

You want to be a part of this as much as Joel allows. Not just because you’re his paper wife, but because you care for him.

All of the previous Santas now seem to survey you, practically staring straight into your soul.

“If you gentlemen are done harassing my wife I suggest y’all fuckin’ head home.” Joel barks sharp.

One of them scoffs at this reply.

The main leader of the group glances at you then back to Joel.

“You picked a good one, Joel.” He smiles with a chuckle.

“You take care of this grouch now, pretty lady.” The sweetest of the men beams at you, a twinkle in his eye.

“Get out.” Joel snaps cold, holding your hand tighter than ever.

In a blink, they’re before you, and the next, they’re gone, vanished into the wind.

Your legs feel like they’re about to give out, and you have to lean against Joel who sighs with the same relief.

In the rush, you swear you feel him press a kiss to the top of your head. Tommy and Maria greet you proud. You return back to your station, back to helping.

Until you realize it’s past 1 in the morning, and you can barely keep your eyes open.

“Hey, crash here for the night.” Joel appears besides you, steadying your arm.

“I’ll be fine, I can drive home.” You reassure him through an unconvincing yawn.

“No. You don’t need to. S’cold as hell out there, just stay here.” He urges, and you don’t want to fight him.

So you’re given the guest room and a spare change of clothes, which include an oversized UT Longhorns shirt and sweats, both obviously Joel’s.

Sliding his shirt on, your heart races. The exhaustion, you blame it on the exhaustion, when you pull his shirt up to inhale deeply. The smell is soft, comforting, a mixture of his cologne and something purely musk, purely Joel.

You wonder how bad it would be to touch yourself in his guest room. Glancing out the door to see if you’re alone, that’s when you catch a glimpse of Joel down the hall.

Busy looking at his phone, he’s shirtless and a decadent sight. You fully take in his solid build, the look of a man. His sweatpants have slung lower, revealing the thick trail of hair leading down to his cock. The pudge of his belly is beautiful.

He’s beautiful, and you want him more than anything.

The next morning he’s gone, already hard at work. You enjoy breakfast with Maria and Tommy who you already adore even more.

“Don’t be a stranger now, it’s nice to have a new face around. Plus Joel can’t stop talking about you.” Maria’s words almost make you spit out your tea.

Tommy snickers at your reaction.

Driving back to your mom’s, you already miss the chaos of the Miller household. Arriving home, your heart sinks seeing your relatives have arrived early.

“Oh, back from staying over at a guy’s house? Maybe you’ll finally get a boyfriend that stays around long enough.” Even though your Aunt is trying to be teasing, you already wish she could leave.

“I think he’s a keeper. He’s older too.” You mom explains with a slow whisper, and you send her a look.

Everyone unfortunately perks up at that.

“Really? Well, you know what they say, you should always question why a man doesn’t date a woman his age.” Your Aunt, with such a judgmental tone, tries to sound sincere but it slices you deep.

“It’s not like that.” You reply feeling a new sense of dread crawl in you.

“Is it a sugar daddy situation?” Your cousin jokes, and it gets too much.

You laugh bitter, fake, then head back to your room. You wish more than ever to crawl back to Joel’s.

Back in your room, something new sits waiting for you on your nightstand.

A flower, your favorite, in full bloom has a note tied to it.

Thanks for all the help

This time Joel signs his name with a little scribbled heart.

You cherish it more than gold.

-

“I…won’t be available these new few days.” Joel reveals, almost sounds guilty.

It’s the first time you’ve finally gotten the chance to talk with him free from curious family members trying to eavesdrop.

Here in the dead of night, your heart aches for him.

“I know, kinda figured.” You grin.

He chuckles.

Suddenly a selfish thought tugs at you.

The image has been plaguing you more and more. Does dress up in full Santa gear? He has to, right?

“So do you…fully wear the whole thing? The red suit? White hat?” You ask, waiting for the answer.

“…if I say yes, are ya gonna divorce me?” Joel replies gruff.

You laugh but rush to quiet down trying not to wake anyone. But you reassure him there's no need for divorce.

“Just… kinda wish I could see it.” You admit, feeling greedy wanting to witness the sight.

Joel stays quiet.

“Maybe one day.” He mutters.

“Yeah…” maybe one day.

“Stay safe out there.” You tell him when you hear him yawning more. “And get all the rest you can.”

“Yes ma’am.” He drawls, and you melt.

You don’t hear from him after that.

You deal with more annoying family members. Enjoy some delicious cozy food. All while missing Joel.

Waking up Christmas Eve morning, you see an email.

All your loans are paid in full. It wasn’t just your loans, but your mother’s. Completely debt free - both of you. She cries. You even get teary eyed.

One of your uncles makes a dumb joke about it maybe being a mistake.

“It’s a blessing,” your mom says, grateful.

“No, it’s a gift from Santa.” You beam, knowing no one would believe you.

However, a new fear starts morphing in you.

What did this mean for you and Joel? Is the contract completed? Is this over? Was it only to say he had a wife on paper, parade you as proof, then… never speak to him again?

The questions pester and haunt you the entire rest of the day.

Then night creeps in.

“You wanna leave cookies out for Santa?” Your mom jokes seeing you grab a plate.

“Maybe, but I think I might leave out a beer too.” You reply and she laughs.

Once everyone heads to bed and leaves back to their hotels, you sneak into the living room.

Never in your life would you have imagined ever needing to wait up to see Santa. Much less as a full adult.

And it proves to be a true test of endurance. You doze off a few times but quickly snap your eyes open, worried you’ll miss him.

Checking the time, it’s almost midnight. Of all the nights you want to stay up, fighting asleep is harder than ever.

You don’t even realize your eyes have closed until the softest graze of fingers against your cheek wakes you.

Panicked, scrambling awake, you snap your eyes open and whisper Joel’s name.

Finally blinking into focus, there’s no sign of anyone here.

“Y’left out a beer for me?”

Until the softest smoothest thick accent floats out into the quiet of your living room. You left the tv on, and the light of it blends with the glow from the Christmas tree. It bathes Joel in something sublime.

No classic Santa hat sits on his head, but the way his hair is scruffy and flat, he must have been wearing it before.

But the sight of him in the crimson suit, the soft white fur lined edges of the coat, how bulky and strong he looks… You’re reminded of a rugged cowboy Santa.

It all ignites a wildfire, and now you’re wide awake scrambling out of the blankets to get to him.

Not thinking, almost possessed by some ghost of Christmas present, you rush forward and embrace him. His body, sturdy and solid, radiates a warmth that encompasses you.

“What are ya doing up?” He whispers low while you clutch onto him. You need to touch him with your own hands, feel he’s real. You also don’t miss the gloved hands against your hips.

“Had to see you.” You croak out.

You pull back to look at him.

Finally, you take him in. It’s Joel, the same grumpy Joel that’s changed the oil for your car, who has a soft spot for the stray cats in his neighborhood, and is an amazing father - but it all collides with the truth of who he really is.

A watery laugh comes out of you and you hate that immediately you’re blinking away tears.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Joel immediately asks worried, letting his hands move to rest on your arms, a comforting presence.

You reassure him it’s nothing, trying to wave this reaction off.

“You gotta tell me what’s wrong or else Christmas stops and it’ll all be your fault.” His tone is somber, but you sense the tease, a classic Joel joke among his words.

Shaking your head, you wipe away more tears frustrated at your reaction. Then his hand, gloved but striking in size, cradles your face, and he gently strokes your cheek. Joel turns your face to him.

“Talk to me, honey please.”

You don’t know how to express everything that’s in your heart. It all feels too much - the conflict of realizing where you stand with him, the doubt that brews wondering if he even holds the same affection for you.

“I don’t wanna lose you.” You admit weakly.

It’s that you can muster out, all that you can do to sum up the bundle of emotions storming in your heart.

Joel’s eyebrows furrow. His mouth drops a bit. In the low light, the shadows on his face deepen like caverns aging him beautifully.

“M’not going anywhere. You won’t lose me.” He reassures, even squeezing your face soft.

Those endless eyes that normally stare so direct and with such a magnetic force, now flicker away almost boyish and shy.

“I’m the one afraid of losin’ you.” He mutters, like he’s admitting it more to himself.

His words unwrap your heart releasing so many emotions.

“Joel.” You whisper, a bit hesitant, and his gaze draws back to you.

He seems closer now, his coal-like eyes brewing something untouchable. Silence, a soft shift settles, you taking him in, and him doing the same for you.

You don’t know who moves first. But in a blink his lips descend onto yours.

His mustache tickles. His lips hold a hint of something sweet sugary, indulgent, or you wonder if that’s just Joel.

Strong gloved hands clutch onto you holding your tighter against his frame. He tilts your head, allowing him to kiss you deeper, and your mouth willingly opens begging for more of him.

It isn’t lost on you that you’re kissing Santa Claus, like a cheesy holiday song. But it’s the fact that you’re kissing Joel Miller that melts everything away.

Your fingers find his hair, running through his soft gray locks you’ve dreamed about. Joel groans, and you already want more.

With ease, he lifts you up with one arm and you squeak into his mouth. His chuckle vibrates against your lips, ticklish, until he starts to kiss your jaw, nibbling on the path of your skin.

You sigh, closing your eyes and drawing him closer when he places you back on the couch. Your legs curl against his waist, locking him in as you try molding into him, with him, as much as you can.

His lips find yours again, this time there’s a fevered edge to them. His tongue is messy, licking into your mouth desperate. You moan when he sucks on your tongue.

A blazing hunger takes over making your hips grind against him. Feeling his gloved hands slide up your legs, you whine digging into him harder.

Until he suddenly rips himself away, leaving you feeling empty missing his warmth and body against you.

“Shit…Really gotta go, honey. I can’t say.” Joel sighs. His heavy breathing, the tightness of his jaw, this is as hard for him as it is for you.

“Can’t you be a little late?” You softly question rising back up to kiss up his scruffy beard.

He groans when you softly kitten lick at his upper lip.

“Fuckin’ naughty little thing.” Joel growls.

You softly kiss his lips again.

“Guess that means I’m on the naughty list huh?” The joke slips out, and you already want to hide after hearing yourself.

Joel groans, but this time it’s ripe with embarrassment. You hide your face while he snickers.

“That was bad.”

“I know,” you agree mortified.

Even in your embarrassment, Joel presses a kiss to the crown of your head, and every worry melts away.

He stands up, pulling you gently up with him. Gathering you into his arms, this time Joel feels larger than life but also closer than ever, like he’s stitched inside your heart now.

“When will I see you again?” You hate how badly you miss him already.

“Soon, I promise.” He reassures rubbing your back softly, and you nod back.

His hand moves to hold your face again, gently, like you’re a precious treasure.

And you think he might be yours.

Joel kisses you, the softest sweetest press of his lips that melts into your bones. And when you open your eyes, he’s gone.

All that’s left are the faintest hints of snow flurries on your living room floor…

And of course he made sure to take his beer.

-

When Joel said he’d see you soon, you didn’t think it would be the next morning, Christmas morning.

Softly a hand brushes against your face, slowly waking you. You find yourself back in your bedroom. The soft glow of the winter morning spreads a gentle light that covers your room.

Joel is here, kneeling beside your bed, and immediately you turn towards him.

In this light, his greys look softer, thicker in their shade, like beautiful white streams run from his temples. And his beard looks as if snow flurries have been peppered in more. The red velvet of his suit looks brighter. Your fingers run across the fabric, across his shoulders.

You whisper his name, yet a sadness creeps in again.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” he nods.

“Are you okay… with us?” It’s a stumbled way to ask, but it’s all you can get out.

Is he okay that you’re much younger than him?

“Yeah, of course.” He nods.

“Actually, Ellie and Sarah were the ones who told me to go for it.” He admits fondly, sleepily.

“They said I needed to be selfish for once, let myself have this…”

His eyes watch you as you sit up to reach him.

“Is that why you were so cold when we first met?” You ask.

Joel nods, sighing.

“Felt awful knowing I was doing this to you, someone so dang young, so fuckin’ beautiful. Hated that you were stuck with a mess of ‘n old man like me.”

“I’d pick you everytime.” The words escape fast. You can’t even stop them.

Instantly he swoops in kissing you with an unchained passion that makes you dizzy.

Immediately you tug at him, begging him to crawl onto the bed. You sigh in bliss when he does, making your mattress creak ever slightly with his glorious solid frame.

His kisses are drenched in a poison intoxicating you.

Clutching onto Joel’s shoulders, you lift your hips when his gloved hands tug at your pj pants.

That’s when you hear the faint laughter of everyone downstairs awake. You freeze. Joel senses your hesitation. That gorgeous nose of his nuzzles against your jaw breathing in the scent of you.

“Y’gonna be a good girl and keep quiet for me?” His thick low voice is all you need because you’re nodding yanking at his shoulders to kiss him again.

This kiss dances along the edge of something fierce and wild, like you’re trying to contain it, hold it back before it spreads and someone hears.

Until Joel’s gloved fingers slip inside your wet heat, and you slap a hand over your mouth to hold back a moan. Feeling his black leather glove inside you has your eyes roll back. Then when you rest your head against the soft fur lining of his coat, it creates such a dizzying sensation you want to get lost in.

“Oh fuck.” He drawls, hoarse.

His fingers pump in and out of you, and the squelch of your wetness sounds downright obscene now. Joel revels in it.

“Letting this ol’ man winter fuck ya while everyone’s down stairs waiting…Y’like that baby?”

You whimper, nodding, clutching onto him harder trying so hard to keep quiet. Then he removes them from your pussy and you whimper at the loss.

Until he draws his gloved fingers, shining and coat in your arousal, up to your lips.

“Can ya clean ‘em off for me?” He mutters.

Without hesitation you pull them into your mouth and suck, letting your tongue wiggle across the leather. You moan tasting this union of you and the leather.

“Shit,” Joel croaks like he got punched in the gut.

Quickly he yanks his hand out from your mouth, rips his gloves off and kisses you feverish.

“Need to feel ya.” He sounds drunk as you feel, even more when his bare fingers thick and warm slip into you again.

He makes you come so fast it knocks you breathless, feeling hot even with the cooler temperature in the room. You whisper begging him to fuck you, to take you here before he heads home -

“Can’t darlin’, but soon I will. I promise.” He reassures you kissing your lips over and over.

“And Santa always keeps his promises, yeah?”

That shouldn’t be so hot, but it is. You greedily kiss him, trying to devour him even more.

“Jesus,” he growls, his accent thicker than ever. “Makin’ it so fuckin’ hard to leave.”

“Then don’t.” You beg.

But then the voices downstairs get louder, and the smell of food warming up floats in.

Joel sighs deflated. You know this is the end for now.

Rubbing his wonderful nose against yours, you lean to press your forehead to his. He breathes out your name, and it sounds like a blessing.

“Merry Christmas, honey.” He whispers softly to you.

A knock comes at your door, and in a panic you drag your blanket up around you.

“You awake yet?” Your mom jokingly asks.

You definitely are now. Of course Joel has vanished.

But something tickles the top of your head. Bundles of mistletoe, twisted among so many lovely ribbons, bloom all along your bed frame.

-

One Christmas Later

“Did I ever show you the shirt Ellie and Sarah sent me last week?” You ask, and Joel, half paying attention, hums.

He pulls his attention away from the Dallas Cowboys game long enough to glance at your phone.

The shirt reads - Mrs Claus but Married to the Grinch

He rolls his eyes, not finding it as amusing as his daughters did.

“Or what about this one.” You show him the next option.

This one, in bright gold lettering, says - Santa’s Sexy Girlfriend

“No.” He flat out pushes the phone away making you laugh and lean against his strong shoulder.

This would be the last night before he heads out on his run. This will also be the first night you get to see him leave, and the first night you’ll get to wait for him now living at his home.

The memories and days that have brought you here are strung up in your heart, luminous multi colored tinsel you never want to take down.

“It’s actually one of the first years we’re ahead of schedule,” Tommy says when you greet him back at the workshop.

“That wife of yours is really something.” Though Tommy talks directly to his brother he makes sure to wink at you.

You’re grateful you got to help out more this year, even enjoyed having Ellie and Sarah around when they came by to visit. But with Ellie now enjoying time with the girl she desperately has a crush on, and Sarah taking the day to spend time with her new boyfriend, it really would just be you and Joel.

A delicious heat crawls in you knowing what you had waiting for him.

But you almost forget about it when you start helping Joel get dressed.

Your throat dries seeing him buckle up his crimson pants, then helping him slide his thick coat on and how broad it accentuates his shoulders…

“You keep lookin’ at me like we’re gonna get behind schedule.” Joel mutters sinful.

“We’re ahead of schedule. We could…mess around for a bit.” You offer light.

“No, being ahead means I can come home earlier.” He very playfully and lightly smacks your ass.

You hate when he’s right.

With a kiss goodbye you send him off returning to the quiet home. You’ll have a day and a half before Joel officially returns. So you spend your time binging multiple movies.

You’re also thankful for the stash of extra cookies you finally found. Joel ‘I ain’t got a sweet tooth’ Miller isn’t so slick with his hiding spots.

The film your best friend recommended is cheesy. But during the scene where the main love interest comes to interrupt the engagement party to announce he loves the bride, cause you to pause.

In theory, you are Joel’s wife. Your mom even jokes that she practically has the most perfect unofficial son in law, if only if she knew the truth. Yet, you don’t have a ring, don’t even use Miller as your last name.

It’s silly, you tell yourself and try not to think about it too much.

So you instead enjoy more cozy snacks and the rare bits of snow Austin is getting this time of year. It’s magical, paints the world like something straight from a Thomas Kinkade dream.

The morning comes when Joel will be home, and you sit waiting on the bed. Don’t even mind you work up early for this.

Earlier confidence surged in you when you slipped into the gorgeous lingerie set. Now it itches on your skin as you sit worried. The bow sitting on your bra might be too much. You almost bought the cute risqué Santa nightgown, but you hesitated.

You didn’t feel like you could truly even joke about being Mrs Claus when you didn't even fully consider yourself Mrs Miller.

“Honey?” Joel announces stepping into the house, and your heart jumps into your throat.

“In here!” You yell back.

Waiting on the bed feels like an eternity passes before Joel opens the door. There’s still snow on his shoulders. His hair is starting to grow out more so it curls around his ears. He’s never looked more gorgeous.

Then his face falls and his eyes become full moons taking in the sight of you before him.

“Oh baby,” he whispers like he can’t believe his eyes.

You grin sleepy.

With eased measured steps Joel walks forward, and you’re reminded of a hunter trying to approach his prey.

He drags his fingers, ungloved, warm and callous from all the hard work he does, up your exposed skin leaving a trial of heat in their wake.

“Can I unwrap my present?” He mutters, allowing his fingers to drift with. Delicate touch across the top of your breast barely kept in by the lace covered bra.

“Yeah, Joel please.” You sigh, closing your eyes when his large hand suddenly grasps, squeezing your breast.

The poor lingerie doesn’t make it out alive.

Now you drift in and out of sleep, naked in his arms. Joel kisses your forehead promising he’ll buy you as many new sets as you want.

“Merry Christmas to both of us.” You dryly joke.

He laughs, but it sounds a bit weak, more like a cough.

“Uh, speaking of Christmas gift… y’want yours now or later when we wake up?”

That makes you bolt up fast from his arms.

“I told you not to get me anything, Miller.” You protest, glaring at him.

Joel rolls his eyes.

“You’re telling me of all people not to get you something?” He scoffs.

“Then I don’t want it.” You stubbornly pout back.

“Alrighty then, I’ll return it tomorrow.” Sleepily he shrugs and turns on his side giving you full sight of his glorious sun kissed bare back. You try not to linger on the scratch marks you left behind.

Now you persistently tell him to give it to you.

“Sounds like what you were saying a few minutes ago.” He teases with a smirk glancing over to you from his shoulder.

Now you roll your eyes.

“Give me the gift Miller, or else.” You shake his shoulder trying to sound somber like Joel himself, but a smile tugs at your lips.

Dramatically, he groans sitting up.

“Making an old man like me get up after the long ass night I had.” He says reaching over to his nightstand.

“Oh please, if I asked you to go another round you would.” You scoff.

“You wanna?” He asks with a curious mutter, and you shove his shoulder again playful.

“Fine, fine.” Joel grumbles.

After reaching under the bed, he returns back with a box…covered in dinosaur wrapping paper.

“Look, it was the only one I had left over here.” He explains seeing your confusion.

“Joel, you work at a magical workshop where there's an endless supply of cute Christmas wrapping paper. Why didn’t you grab some?!” You laugh.

“Didn’t wanna mess up the inventory.” He huffs, grumpy and classically Joel.

“You gonna open it or am I gonna have to hide it again?”

At his words you greedily rip off the paper.

You guess by the size it looked like a shoe box and it is, a familiar box you thought you threw away. Now you’re confused.

Opening it, inside is an even smaller box. This one is classically wrapped in green and red with a shining bow on top.

But when you pick it up, you discover the tiny box is heavy. There’s also a latch at the back begging for you to lift and open.

Inside sits a ring, dancing with a shimmering sparkle.

You already fight back the tears.

Is this what you think it is?

Whipping your face to Joel he seems hesitant, worried, while he keeps his focus on you.

“I know we might’ve done this backwards but…” he reaches for the ring, gingerly pulling it out.

“Wanna make it official now.”

You inhale sharp.

“Honey I’ll get down on one knee if you want, but might take me a while to get back up…” he jokes, but the edge of his voice is watery, shaky, like he’s the one barely holding on.

“But…will you marry me again-”

You don’t even let him finish before you rush to kiss him. The tears come, fast and free like a wave, but they’re beautiful. You embrace it all.

Joel slides the ring in your finger. The weight of the beautiful metal feels wonderful against your skin, but you don’t notice it. Not when you’re swept up in making love to your Joel, your fiancé.

The love bursting through your heart could swallow you whole and you would let it.

“I love you,” he admits against your skin, breathing out like he’s finally found a moment of rest.

“I love you too.” You rub his back soaking in the bliss among the sweat and heat of his body against yours.

It’s just you and your Mr Claus.

“I’m glad Santa granted my wish.” You mutter dreamy, not caring how embarrassing you sound.

That is until Joel lifts his head up, those wonderful eyes of his shine brighter than any northern star.

“Mine too, honey.” He mutters, kissing you tenderly, a sweet promise of more beautiful Christmas days to come.

[cupidbedsy]

▷ the christmas movie debacle ; the film effect

➪ summary: on christmas eve, molly, gabe, and will cuddle on the couch to watch a movie only for molly to find out her boyfriends put on her least favorite christmas movie

➪ warnings: molly wishing that gabe burns himself (playfully), molly hates the polar express movie

➪ word count: 0.9k

➪ file type: 12 days of au's: christmas edition (the film effect) blurb

➪ cupid's notes: welcome to the first day of my 12 day's of au's: christmas edition! i hope you guys are excited for the upcoming days, but here is some will, molly, and gabe for the first day! the ending is a bit wack but that's okay

© cupidbedsy ; do not copy, repost, or translate my work and designs on any other website or here

Molly flopped down on the couch in between her boyfriends, bringing the blanket up around her as she did so. It was late on Christmas Eve, Will had just gotten back from Vancouver earlier that day, and all the three wanted to do was cuddle and watch an abundance of Christmas movies. 

She reached over, freeing her arms from the confines of the blanket and grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bucket that sat in Gabe’s lap, “What’re we watching?”

“The Polar Express.”

The two boys could feel their girlfriend tense from between them, eyebrows furrowing as they turned to look at her. Will frowned as he saw the look on her face, “What’s wrong, baby?”

“We are not fucking watching that movie.”

Gabe choked on his water, coughing as a result. Will reached over to pat his back, eyes still locked onto Molly’s face, “And why is that?”

Molly looked between them, eyes widening, “You guys don’t seriously like that movie do you?”

“‘Course I do! It’s a classic!” Gabe exclaimed, letting out another cough.

“It’s not the worst Christmas movie I’ve seen.” 

She huffed, crossing her arms, “No no no. I cannot with you two, I can’t believe you like it. It’s fucking creepy as hell.”

Gabe raised an eyebrow, settling back against the couch, facing her, “And why don’t you like this movie, besides it being creepy.”

“Oh, Gabe don’t-”

“They make the main character not believe in Santa, bro literally has articles and pictures and shit saying that Santa isn’t real… which yes Gabe, I do know the point of the movie is to get him to believe but shut up. The parents know about the train and willingly let their kids get on it. If the kids also know about it, why doesn’t the main kid know about it? Also, even if the parents didn’t know about it, wouldn’t they have woken up from the rumbling?”

Gabe went to interrupt her but was quickly silenced when she held up her hand, “Back to the kids getting on the train thing, didn’t their parents ever teach them stranger danger? The little yellow kid is just- well he’s fucking annoying, can’t stand him. Why don’t they have seatbelts? It’s like they are actively trying to kill the kids, between that and letting the girl drive and going up on the top of the train while it’s actively moving.

“Also, why doesn’t the kid hold on to the ticket for the girl, like he has to just go across and give it to her? Why wasn’t the conductor making sure the kid got through the creepy-ass cart full of creepy-ass dolls? Why don’t they have fucking names?”

Her boyfriends stared at her, eyes wide, Will’s in amusement and fondness and Gabe’s in bewilderment, “That is quite literally the whole point of the movie, Molls. Magic.”

“The Santa Clause movies have magic and you don’t see me complaining about it, do you? There are only two good things about The Polar Express, and it’s the songs and Tom Hanks. Which that’s another thing, why does he play like five characters?”

He placed a hand to his chest, scoffing as he stood up, “I can’t deal with you. I’m making hot chocolate.”

“I hope you burn yourself!”

Will groaned, throwing his head back in annoyance, “Gabe sit your ass back down, I will go make the hot chocolate and you two will figure this,” he gestured to the TV as she shoved his remote into their hands, “out.”

“Don’t forget the whipped cream!”

“I know, baby. I know.”

The two watched as Will walked off to the kitchen, practically hearing him roll his eyes again. When he was out of sight, the two exchanged looks before she huffed, “I still hate that movie.”

“Fine. What do you want to watch?”

She gave him a grin and he sighed, “Fine we’ll watch Elf, but this is the last time.”

Molly kissed his cheek, snuggling into his side. He looked down at her, his face softening, “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

Molly fell asleep just over halfway into the movie, laid across Will and Gabe with her head in the former’s, a blanket pulled around her tightly. The three empty mugs sat on the coffee table, the empty bowl that was filled with popcorn next to them, and Will Ferrell’s voice was softly coming out of the speakers.

Will’s fingers threaded through Molly’s hair, leaning his head on Gabe’s shoulder as best as he could, his other hand entwining with his. Will glanced over at the time, smiling once he realized what time it was. He shifted his head, leaning up to press a kiss to Gabe’s jaw, “Merry Christmas baby.”

Gabe’s eyes flickered toward him, smiling, “Merry Christmas to you too, handsome.”

They heard a grumble from beneath them, looking down to see Molly staring at them, messy hair and all, “Don’t forget about me.”

Both of them chuckled, Gabe bringing her hand up to kiss it, “Merry Christmas, princess.”

“Merry Christmas, weird movie man.”

He rolled his eyes, slapping her thigh lightly as she giggled. Will leaned down to kiss her head, saying his own version of ‘Merry Christmas’ to her, to which she replied with the same thing, burying her head into his stomach, and going back to sleep quickly.

꒰ THE FILM EFFECT TAGLIST ꒱

@winterbarnesblog @delilaahh9 @digitalhughes-jpg @rowdyluv @fantillisgirl

THE FILM EFFECT MASTERLIST ; AU'S ; 12 DAYS OF AU'S

TAGLIST ; NHL MASTERLIST ; NAVIGATION

[roguemonsterfucker]

It just strikes me as strange that the parents in The Santa Clause stopped believing in Santa because they didn’t get the gifts they wanted.

It’s never explained why they didn’t get the gifts they wanted, for one.

But also… is that really why people usually stop believing?

I guess maybe I don’t remember exactly what happened for me. I never had a “Santa isn’t real” moment. I knew my grandpa was the Santa that visited us every Christmas Eve but that didn’t mean Santa wasn’t real. At some point I knew my parents were the ones buying the gifts but that didn’t mean Santa wasn’t real.

Maybe I just had a weird upbringing.

[askfriskandcompany]

Has anyone figured out that Santa Clause (and Krampus by extension) is real? I’m sure many businesses would like to hope that they aren’t, since they’d have to pay royalties of using their likeness over the past century or so.

Santa has no intentions of perusing any copyright claims. As far as he’s concerned, the mythic figure of Santa Claus is and always should be public domain. Plus, he’s got more important things to do with his time. Namely, rescuing kids. And that’s easier to do if the public eye isn’t on him.

-TQ

[stardustprompts]

house of ashes  -  the dark pictures anthology  sentence starters change tenses/pronouns as needed !!  some lines have been edited for clarity / length / ease of roleplaying     tw ;  language ,  war ,  death ,  drug mention ,  religion mention 

‘I don’t know where i’d be without you.’ 

‘don’t you think it’s about time you came clean?’ 

‘all’s fair in love and war.’ 

‘I didn’t mean for you to find out like this.’ 

‘with all due respect, I think that’s the wrong call.’ 

‘quit being a bitch!’

‘I’ve got a real bad feeling about this.’

‘I wish you’d reconsider.’ 

‘it’s been a long time since we last saw each other.��� 

‘not a day went by when you weren’t on my mind.’ 

‘I’ve missed you so much, (name).’

‘how we left it ... things weren’t so great between us.’

‘we’ve been through worse. a lot worse.’ 

‘I wish I shared your optimism.’ 

‘you wanna ask me something. I can tell by the look on your face.’

‘you’re fucking with me.’

‘you got any other surprises you wanna drop on me?’

‘that’s gotta be about the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.’

‘I don’t know about you guys but something doesn’t feel right about this place.’

‘so is that this women’s intuition I keep hearing about?’

‘I don’t believe in curses, the tooth fairy, or santa clause.’

‘fuck. we’re so fucked.’ 

‘I won’t do it. this is not right.’

‘stay the hell away from me.’

‘you better not miss.’

‘you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.’ 

‘I fucking knew it. I knew you weren’t ready for this.’ 

‘you didn’t see shit!’ 

‘I flunked history at school.’ 

‘tell me you don’t feel something...’

‘I don’t feel shit.’

‘we need to get out of here right now!’

‘you want the good version or the bad version?’

‘what the hell are you? what do you want from me?’

‘are you okay? are you hurt?’

‘I’m pretty good at looking after myself.’

‘I guess we could classify this as ‘quality time’.’

‘doesn’t this remind you of old times, (name)?’

‘maybe you don’t know me as well as you think.’ 

‘after you left, I learned to deal with pressure.’ 

‘do you not watch horror movies?’

‘you didn’t hear that?’

‘I didn’t hear anything.’ 

‘you can’t blame yourself.’

‘we’ve both made mistakes.’

‘I didn’t make it easy on you, (name). I know that.’ 

‘I don’t think either of us expected to be out of each other’s lives for so long.’

‘I’ve missed you, like you wouldn’t believe.’   

‘maybe there’s hope for us after all.’ 

‘there you go, reading my mind again.’ 

‘you always were a good guy. maybe too good for me.’ 

‘I want you back, (name).’ 

‘we were pretty damn good together.’ 

‘I know you better than you think, (name).’

‘admit it, there’s someone else, isn’t there?’

‘give ‘em hell, buddy.’

‘you gotta stop struggling!’

‘do you believe in god?’

‘you wouldn’t believe me even if I tried. hell, I don’t believe and I was there.’ 

‘come on, you’re jumping at shadows!’ 

‘whatever you think you’ve seen, it’s bullshit.’ 

‘take a mental picture and snap the fuck out of it!’

‘you got us into this mess, you better get us out.’

‘you wanna repeat that? that’s what I thought.’ 

‘I’m not sure of anything anymore.’

‘in battle, these things are often difficult to judge.’ 

‘are you on fucking drugs?!’

‘we’ve lost enough today.’ 

‘we can get through this, but only together.’

‘I’ve seen their weakness. they burn in sunlight.’ 

‘like any living being, they can be killed. a stake through the heart.’ 

‘we do this together, okay?’

‘what the fuck are we up against?’

‘never before have I ever seen anything so vicious.’

‘do you believe in demons?’ 

‘if you had asked me that before, I’d have laughed in your face.’

‘like you, I also never believed. but look around you.’ 

‘I don’t want to hurt you!’

‘there’s no point in fighting. not anymore.’ 

‘after all we’ve been through? thanks a lot!’

‘we fought it together and we won.’ 

‘I hope you’re a believer. when those things come back, you’re going to need a higher power to pray to.’ 

‘if I gotta fight these things, there’s no one else I would want by my side.’ 

‘cut the bullshit, (name). I know you and I know you care.’ 

‘trust me, you wanna get that shit out in the open.’

‘why is it that no one ever tells it straight? everyone just makes up bullshit to get by.’ 

‘if we die down here? maybe that’s what we deserve.’ 

‘‘fuck’ doesn’t even start to cover it.’

‘there’s no such thing as luck.’

‘do you mind?’

‘I’m glad you’re here.’

‘how did I know you were going to say that?’ 

‘gee, thanks, (name). you ever think about going into motivational speaking?’ 

‘that’s gotta be about the dumbest question I have ever been asked.’ 

‘I guess I just wanted to let go. you know, be someone new.’

‘you think it bothers me what they call me? i wear that shit like a fucking badge of honor.’ 

‘you and I... we’re not so different.’ 

‘please. please don’t leave me down here alone.’ 

‘don’t quit on me now!’ 

‘truth is so overrated.’ 

‘if you turn, it won’t be you I’m killing.’ 

‘I know you can do it, (name). you just have to have hope!’

‘you’re screwed enough as it is! if you stay with me, there’s no hope for you at all.’

‘(name) could lose his own ass if it wasn’t pinned on him.’

‘embrace the suck.’ 

‘you follow me, or you stay here and rot.’ 

‘it’s good to see you, (name). I thought we lost you.’ 

‘that’s not (name) anymore.’ 

‘you worthless pile of shit!’

‘the enemy of the enemy is our friend!’ 

‘well this looks like the worst place in the goddamn world.’ 

‘I don’t mean you any harm. I swear.’ 

‘honestly? I’m just glad to see a human face.’

‘my father once told me that if something looks like shit, and it smells like shit, you don’t have to taste it to know that it’s shit!’ 

‘I think you need to give your mouth a rest.’ 

‘every time you say something smart, you follow it with something dumb.’ 

‘hope is all we got left.’

‘funny how you can know someone for years and never really know them.’ 

‘a time will come when you will deeply regret this manner.’

‘I don’t carry regrets.’ 

‘it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen.’ 

‘not exactly honeymoon material, is it?’

‘my sole objective, (name), is to make you happy. doesn’t matter where we are or what we’re going through, I’ll always put a smile on your face.’

‘I thought I lost you!’

‘thanks for looking out for me.’ 

‘I can’t pretend like this didn’t happen.’ 

‘I still love you, (name).’

‘I knew you would always be there for me.’ 

‘I wanna try us again.’

‘I can’t turn my back on my past.’ 

‘if I didn’t give you a chance, I’d always regret it.’

‘you fucking deserve each other.’

‘I can’t end up like this.’ 

‘we are being judged. god is punishing us all for the mistakes we’ve made.’

‘we all have our reasons, they don’t have to be profound.’ 

‘I don’t even know what the fuck I’m doing here.’ 

‘I can hear you thinking.’ 

‘start believing, (name). we’re gonna get out of here and see the sun again.’ 

‘we’ll stand together. it’s the only way.’ 

‘in this place, everything’s possible.’

‘I thought you were dead.’

‘keep your head clear of everything but the task ahead. it’s the only way we’ll live.’ 

‘secrets keep you sick.’ 

‘if you need me, I’m here for you.’ 

‘I’ll always love you.’ 

‘you’ve come to join the fun.’

‘we’re not out of the woods yet. but what I see in front of me, you’re the best. fuck that, the best of the best.’

‘there’s too many of them!’

‘it’s been interesting knowing you.’

‘you’re late and you look like shit.’

‘I’m going to make sure those things stay buried in that hellhole where they belong!’

‘I’ll have to live with that.’ 

‘I learned not to rely on anyone but myself. I was stronger than all of them.’ 

‘I’ll never get used to this job.’ 

[leahblackk]

Matilda

summary: Spencer finally knows all Yn’s past.

Warnings: Mentions of SA (sexual abuse) by a family member however it’s not specified. Crying, bits of angst.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader.

this has been one of the hardest fics i’ve ever written. it might not be good enough, but it’s something i wanted to bring for @imagining-in-the-margins comfort fic challenge hoping it might bring someone out there a little bit of comfort. <3

i will not be adding my taglist as if i don’t know if they want to read this one.

Spencer knew that he couldn’t erase what was written in the past. He tried many times, different situations in his life, he tried to change it. He wondered if there were ways he hasn't figured out now that could just, with a movement, with words, he could just eliminate it. If it wasn’t possible from the past, at least from someone’s memory.

He mostly wanted it for himself, he wanted to erase the bad memories, he wanted to make it go away. He suffered so much throughout his life, he has felt helpless tons of times. But he has never felt as helpless as he feels now. Spencer never wished so much to erase someone's past until he met her.

He has never wished to wipe and erase something like this.

He wished he didn’t know body language. He wished he wasn’t a profiler right at this moment, he wished that he didn’t know without her having to speak it out loud.

The way she tried to stay as far away from him as possible, as she tried to run away from something. She was trying to run away from him, from that shadow. From that memory of a second that lingered for the rest of her life.

She told him, of course she did, she told him everything about her, from the beginning of her memories to the little things she remembered or saw during the day. He knew every single scar in her body, and the story behind them, but he didn’t quite think she’d have such a deep, unhealed scar quite like this one.

When he noticed the way she tried to hide herself, with Spencer, with his body. He wanted to cry, but anger grew in his body at all the sight of the man that one time hurt her.

The pain he felt for her, to think of her one time being so helpless and scared, hurt him deeply. She didn’t tell him that.

She didn’t tell him the story of what he did to her. He isn’t mad at that, he understands, of course he does.

He holds her hand under the table, softly stroking her knuckles with his thumb as the Christmas dinner happens right in front of him, with her family. But he can’t focus on everyone’s joy and happiness when he knows she isn’t completely joyful.

He tries to find an excuse to get her out of there as quickly as he can.

He remembers how she told him stuff, about her childhood, how some things that happened hurt her but he never thought of something like this.

He looks at her, while she smiles like it’s no big deal. While he sits on the other side of the table, and he talks as if he hasn’t done the worst thing imaginable.

He feels furious, but this isn’t about Spencer, this isn't about how much he hurts for her or how angry he feels, this is about her. He holds her hand, and makes sure she’s alright.

She notices, of course, a change in Spencer’s behavior. Perhaps even more protective than he was before, but she doesn’t pay attention to it.

As it starts to get later and later, and the party settles down, Spencer and Y/n say goodbye to everyone, to her family where he felt welcomed, but now a gut wrenching feeling settles on his stomach. It's like when you grow up, you realize all the things your parents once told you, weren't true. The tooth fairy isn't real, Santa Clause much less, It wasn't all happiness.

They make their way to the car, where she sighs, away from the thoughts, away from him.

Spencer looks at her with puppy eyes, hoping she’d speak, she’d say something. But she doesn’t. So he waits, as he drives to their home, where he knows he’d do anything in his power to protect her, to keep her away from all of it.

He smiled softly at her, knowing she'd tie up her hair and smile like it was no big deal.

They walked in the house while she giggled telling him stuff about the dinner they just had, asking him if he enjoyed it.

Spencer looked at her deeply into her beautiful eyes, ones he had seen so many times before, but this time it was different, not in a bad way, never in a bad way but rather of admiration, of proudness going through his veins.

He felt proud that she was still there, he wasn't happy that she had to go through all of that, but he was proud that she was there, right in front of him and then, he made a promise to himself. She would never have to go through anything harsh ever again. He's gonna protect her, he's gonna take care of her.

He smiled at her, and he brought her closer by her arms. She didn't make a sound, but Spencer knew she was confused. She hugged him back, nonetheless. He quickly put her head close to his chest, stroking her hair in the process.

She chuckled, “Don't take this in the wrong way, but, what is this for?”

He rubbed her back and spoke, “I know.”

She frowned, “You know what?”

“I know that, angel,” he emphasized.

Silence. Silence was all he heard and his heart started racing, thinking that maybe it wasn't the best way to approach the topic. Maybe he should have waited for her to tell him? Oh god, what if he ruined everything?

What if…

She snuggled closer to him, and he heard a muffled sob, against his cardigan, “I was gonna tell you, i promise i-i just didn't know how? I wasn't sure if you were gonna see me differently and-and-,” she rambled.

Spencer shook his head, “Shh, angel, it's alright. I'm not mad at you for not telling me. I promise,” he cooed, “There's nothing wrong. I just noticed it and I just couldn't not say anything. I'm sorry,” he sighed, bringing her impossibly close, “I do see you differently, but not in the way you think. Never in that way. I am proud of you, for being so strong. I'm sorry you went through all of that and if there's any other day you might wanna talk further about it, i'm always here to listen. I'm sorry you have to see him like that, my love.”

“Is how it's always been,” she shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal, “I-I wanna talk about it, but not right. I do enjoy the hug and the words of encouragement, though,” she softly chuckled. Trying to light up the humor.

He kissed the side of her head, “It wasn't your fault baby,” he whispered, knowing she never got those so desired reassuring words, “It wasn't your fault, it was his. No one else's, okay?” she nodded, and he continued, “I promise, you're not alone. I'm here to listen, to hold you, hell, even if you want me to put him in jail I will. But whatever you wanna do next it's all your decision. I will support you and stand right here next to you. I got you, I promise I got you.”

She cried silently, wetting his clothes, but he didn't mind, not even a little bit. He rubbed her back, his heart aching for her, and for knowing he couldn't take the pain and darkness away, but even if he couldn't, at least he'd stand there, in the darkest with her, holding her until she felt better.

“It's not your fault. You're here, with me, safe. He can't reach you here my love, I promise you that. And I, not only as your husband but as your best friend, I will not allow him to get close to you ever again.”

He held her, for the rest of the night. Whispering sweet nothings, and words of comfort into her ear, hoping, wishing and praying it would ease her pain a little bit, And in that night, when he saw her completely vulnerable, he fell in love with her even more.

[nctsplug02]

Hey ash! You truly are an amazing writer! Could you maybe write a boxer jaehyun au for us???

[6:50PM]

GENRE: FLUFF | SMUT | PARENTS AU | BOXING AU

WARNINGS: kissing, mention of condoms, mention of birth control, marking, BDSM, oral sex (F receiving), fingering and creampie!

FEATURING: na jaemin as their four year old son!

you pull out a cart while you son clings onto your leg. “mama, can we get a gingerbread house?” you look to where the boy is pointing to.

it was a shelf with multiple choices of gingerbread houses.

“sure, let’s go check it out and then you can pick which one you wanna do.” jaemin gets all giggly as the pair of you make your way to the shelves.

when reaching the shelves, jaemin lets your hand go and squats down. “mama, a beach!” he points to the box with a gingerbread beach set on the front. “that’s cute— do you want that one?” he shakes his head.

jaemin stands up and then lets out a gasp. “mama, can we get this one?!” it was a regular gingerbread house but mini version. “i think it’s perfect! we can absolutely get it.”

jaemin claps in excitement and grabs three boxes. “three of them?” you ask and your son nods, stacking them on top of one another. “one for you, me and daddy!” you see him struggling and you take the boxes from him.

“you have a good reason.” you set them in the cart. “should we get some extra candies and frosting just in case?” jaemin takes a second to think and nods. “alright, then can you pick out some colored frosting and some candy you think we should decorate our houses with?” jaemin nods and begins to pick out some frosting and candy.

after, he’s done, the pair of you walk away from that section.

“okay, nana. do you remember what we’re here for?” jaemin nods. “we’re here to pick out daddy’s christmas present!”

“well, santa already got daddy christmas present. but, nana just wants to add on, right?” jaemin presses his lips together and pushes them to one side with furrowed eyebrows.

“mama, santa clause isn’t real.” you slow the cart and look at the boy seat in front of you. “whoo.. said that?” you raise an eyebrow and he giggles. “my best friend jeno in my class! he says his older brother, mark told him that santa isn’t real and then he told me.”

you softly laugh and push your hair back. ��he also said our mommies and daddies are the real santa clause. is he lying?” you bite your lip and give your son a weird look.

“look, you’re four and i’m not gonna lie to you— yeah, mommy and daddy get your presents, not santa.” jaemin lets out a sound of confusion. “okay.”

“okay, so let’s move past that! why don’t you get out of the cart and look around to daddy’s gift?” jaemin nods and is pulled out with your help.

“so, where should we go first?” you ask as the little boy holds onto the holes on the cart. “um.. let’s go get some clothes for dad.” you nod and stroll the cart towards the men’s isle.

“toothpaste..” you scan the isle. “ah, here we go.” you grab the pack of toothpaste. “what’d you grab, nana.” you say putting the box in the cart. “how did you know i grabbed something?”

you look back at the boy and smile. “deodorant?” you pick up the boy and grab the deodorant from his hands. “yeah, it’s for dad! he needs it because after he fights with people, he stinks.” you laugh and jaemin giggles.

“alright, we’re definitely getting that for a laugh.” you toss the deodorant in the cart.

“we’re all done, right?” jaemin wiggles from you hold and climbs on the side of the cart and nods. “i think so, mama!” he gives you a quick thumbs up before grabbing onto the cart, again. “okay, then let’s go check out.”

jaemin nods and you pick him up, sitting him in the seat. “nana,” you say when pushing the cart. “yes, mommy?” you stop when another person pushes their cart in front of yours.

“when we check out, you can pick a candy. okay?” jaemin gasps and nods. “you’ve been such a good boy today and that’ll be your reward.” he nods, again with the biggest smile ever.

after finishing with the gingerbread houses, the three of you moved to the living room and sat near the christmas tree.

“i don’t know which one to pick.” jaemin bites his thumb and looks at his several presents.

it was christmas eve and it was tradition to open one present the day before christmas so, therefore, jaemin stood by his presents debating which one he wanted to open first.

“well, you’re gonna open them all tomorrow.” jaehyun says with hot cocoa in his mug and his arm wrapped around you.

“you’re right.. um, i think i wanna do this one!” he picks up a small box with his name written on it. “alright! let’s sit in a circle and see what we got.” you start but jaehyun starts bickering.

“hey, hey— i haven’t picked out my present yet, mama.” your cheeks flush in embarrassment and in a reaction— you felt like a snowman in the summer whenever he called you a nickname.

you clear your throat as jaehyun detangles his arms from you. “i.. hm, i think i want this one.” jaemin giggles when seeing jaehyun pick out the present that jaemin had gotten him.

jaehyun sits in between you and jaemin and sets down his hot cocoa.

“mommy, you go first.” jaemin speaks up and you chuckle. “okay.. this one says it from daddy.” you look at your husband and tear the wrapping paper.

you look down at the present and gasp. “jae.. did you actually?” you stare down at the valentino box. “i don’t know,” he giggles. “did i?” you frown and open the box, pushing past the extra paper to find the most gorgeous heels.

“babe,” you whine and pick one of the heels up. “it’s so pretty!” it was the valentino garavani tan-go platform pumps, in black. “do you like it?” jaehyun asks in a giggly voice. “like it? no, i absolutely love them!” you slip one on and jaehyun helps with the straps.

“i’d love to see you wear them to my next match.” jaehyun says letting your foot go. “sure, if you don’t mind looking short next to your wife.” you and jaehyun laugh. “i don’t mind. i just want to see my wife in her new heels.”

“how did you even get your hands on these?” you slip on the other side. “well, i almost fought someone for these.” you let out a small gasp and he laughs. “i’m kidding. i drove to like.. six different stores and found these beauties at a store that was an hour away.”

you sit up on your knees and lean forward, wrapping your arms around your husbands neck and throwing yourself onto him. “thank you, i love them.” you plant a kiss on his cheek. “and me?” you laugh, slightly tossing your head back. “i love you too, of course.” he softly laughs, satisfied with the three specific words.

“can i go now?” jaemin asks, patiently sitting with his present in front of him. “oh, of course! sorry, mommy and daddy were distracted.”

“it’s okay.” jaemin says while ripping open the wrapping paper. you bite your lip, waiting for his reaction. “it’s a watch!” he holds up the present. “oh, really?” he nods and attempts to tear it out of its packaging.

jaemin looks up and pouts. “yes, daddy will help.” you say while climbing off jaehyun. “thanks, hon.” you and jaehyun laugh.

jaehyun takes the watch from jaemin and undoes it from its packaging. “there we go.” jaehyun says, clipping it in place on jaemins wrist. “i love it! i’ve always wanted a spider-man watch and now i have it!” jaemin says as jaehyun fixes the time.

“okay, can you tell me what time it is?” jaemin looks down at his watch and hums. “i don’t know, i can’t read numbers.” you and jaehyun laugh.

jaemin crawls into your lap while fixing his watch. “okay, dad, it’s your turn!” jaemin says pointing to the green bag. “mm.. in excited!” jaehyun opens the bag and flings out the extra wraps.

“whattt,” jaehyun drags out while pulling out a folded t shirt. “it says ‘best dad in the world’ because you’re the best dad ever!” jaehyun smiles at jaemins words.

“i love it.” jaehyun sets the shirt in front of his and tugs off the black t-shirt. “love it so much that i’ll put it on right now.” he says towards jaemin who scrunches up his face.

jaehyun slips the shirt over his head and slips his arms through the holes. “perfect fit.” jaehyun says smoothing out the cotton material. “i knew daddy would like it.” you say and jaemin giggles.

“okay,” jaehyun shakes his head to fix his hair and fixes his glasses. “let’s see what’s next.” he pulls out a deodorant stick and starts heavily laughing.

“nana, tell daddy why you got him that.” jaemin giggles when seeing his dads reaction. “i got it because daddy stinks after he fights with people.” jaehyun sighs and nods. “thank you, nana. i.. i really needed this.” he laughs, again.

“there’s more, dad!” jaemin points and jaehyun nods, pulling out the extra stuff.

after jaehyun was finished— the three of you cleaned up and went to bed.

“babe,” jaehyun nods, taking off his glasses and putting them on his nightstand. “today, we went to target and.. i got us.. this.” you hold up the two boxes.

jaehyun sits up in excitement and shock. “a vi.. a vibrator and.. lube.” you nod, biting your lip. waiting to see how he’d react.

“jae,” you sigh and crawl onto the bed, sitting yourself in front of him. “i’ve been dying to have another baby and it’s my ovulation week!” you drop the items in your hand and cup his face. “i’m just.. waiting to hear what you say.”

“baby, i’ve been waiting to hear you say that.” your eyes widen and a squeal erupts from you as you squeeze his cheeks. “you have?!” you squeal in excitement.

jaehyun tosses his head back and lets out a laugh. “you don’t even know how hard it is to resist fucking a baby into you every time we make love.”

you slam your lips onto jaehyuns and he laughs against your lips. you moan and grind your hips, pulling at the slightly long locks.

jaehyun pulls away while heavily breathing. “strip for me.” he whispers.

you fight the urge to lift your shoulders in excitement— along with a smile. but, that didn’t stop your face from heating up.

you scoot back and begin to undress yourself. meanwhile jaehyun snatches the box up and rips it open. “oh, baby.” jaehyun softly chuckles. “we’re gonna have so much fun tonight.”

“fuck, we need batteries first.” jaehyun sighs and reaches over to your nightstand. he opens the drawer and shuffles around, picking up two batteries and sticking it in the toy.

jaehyun sits up to see you naked. “you look so beautiful. you always do.” he reaches forward and pinches your nipple. “you’re so beautiful, baby.” he whispers and rubs your hard nipple with his thumb.

“here,” jaehyun holds up the toy. “i want to see how you’d play with this.” you hesitate but take the toy from him. “i want to watch,” he says, again. “is that okay?” you nod and sit back, with your legs stilk pressed together.

“can i get a pillow?” jaehyun reaches behind him and grabs a pillow, fluffing it and handing it to you.

you tuck it behind you and you lay back, finally pulling your legs apart and letting jaehyun see your glistening pussy.

“fuck, baby.” jaehyun licks his lips and hisses at the sight.

you turn the toy on and gasp when it starts buzzing softly. “hm,” jaehyun grabs the box and reads the front. “there are five settings— let’s try them all.”

“a—all—?” your clit dying to feel the buzzing. “yes, all. we have all night. tomorrow’s christmas.” you bite your lip and gasp when jaehyun guides the vibrator to your clit.

your hips jerk inward and every muscle in your body clenches. “o—ooh, god.” you sigh and let out a string of moans. “o—ooh, my god.” you roll your hips and toss your head back.

“fuck, you’re so gorgeous.” jaehyun whispers and reaches up, grabbing ahold of your nipples and pinching them between his fingers. “i—im gonna c—cum!” you groan and clench around nothing.

jaehyun grins as you let out a soft gasp and watches as you go tense. your orgasm hitting you softly yet so roughly.

“hm, should we move it up a level?” you smile through your recovery and nod. “that’s my girl.” jaehyun rubs your clit with his thumb and takes the toy from you, switching it off and then climbing off the bed.

“wh—where’re you going?” you can barely lift your head off the pillow. “getting some of our other toys.” you watch as he walks to the closet and comes back with several rose gold silk ribbons.

jaehyun sits back in the bed and drags you to one of the bed posts. “don’t tie it too tight.” you say as he begins tying your wrists together. “ahh, i won’t.” jaehyun tightens it and a whimper is released from you as you bring your eyes to his.

“mm, im sorry, my love.” jaehyun softly chuckles and leans down, giving your forehead a kiss. “i said not too tight, asshole.” you say between (nervous) laughter.

jaehyun takes the next ribbon and uses it to tie your ankle— this ribbon was long so it was a given opportunity for jaehyun to bring it all up your legs and to your hips, where it ends, he ties it up into a bow and stands on his knees.

“so pretty.” jaehyun admires his work and bites his lip. “try not to roll off.” he says with a soft chuckle.

jaehyun reaches for the toy and the bottle of lube catches his eyes. “hm.” the corner of his lips quirk and his hand reaches for it as well. “let’s put this to use.” he flicks the bottle open and squirts some onto the round vibrator.

jaehyun flicks the toy onto the third setting and bites his lip at the buzz. “mm, this one is powerful— i wonder how the other settings will be like.” he lifts your legs and uses the toy to smear the lube on your lips.

you shudder at the cold feeling. jaehyun slips the toy into your cunt and a yelp escapes from you. the buzzing inside you felt so different. your walls clenched around the toy which vibrated more vibration.

“o—ooh, my god— get this thing out of me!” you shudder and squeeze your fists. “h—holy fuck, it’s so strong!” you gasp, digging your nails into your palms.

jaehyun chuckles at the sight of you being torn up from a toy. “how does it feel, baby?” you groan in annoyance (more like not being able to form any words), and flip to your side. “aw,” jaehyun groans. “cmon, baby. tell me how it feels.”

“so— g—god!” you shake your head and choke back a whimper. “i—i can’t!” you could feel tears forming in your eyes and they threatened to fall.

jaehyun hums, thrusting the toy further into you. “mm, yes you can, baby. i know you can.” an orgasm has you thrashing around and biting back a vicious moan.

“ah ahh,” jaehyun tuts as your moans become louder from the stimulation. “do you remember our baby boy in the other room, let’s try not to wake him, yeah?” you nod and bends your knees.

you let out a whimpery cry when feeling the buzz hit your g-spot. “t—that— god!” you scream and arch your back off the bed. “feels so fu— fucking good!” you manage to get out and jaehyun smiles down at you.

“i know you could do it.” jaehyun pulls the toy out and shuts it off.

“that was torture.. holy fuck.” you laugh and so does jaehyun.

“looked fun.” jaehyun says undressing himself. “oh, did it now?” he nods and you sit up. “why don’t we test it on you?” the man shakes his head and grabs you by the hips.

jaehyun fixes the way you’re laying and holds your thighs firmly, keeping your feet in the air. “not tonight, baby. another night. but, tonight is about you and making another baby— m’kay?” you nod, watching as your husband lays flat on his belly.

“now, sit still for me so i can eat this pretty pussy.” you moan and hide your face behind your arm as jaehyun dips his head and flattens his tongue on your pussy.

jaehyun hums, causing more vibration to buzz against your clit. (as if the vibrator wasn’t enough).

“oh, god.” you gasp and tip your head back with your eyes shut. “good god, jaehyun!” you cry out as he dips his tongue into your hole.

jaehyun groans and lets his eyes flutter shut while he laps your juice. your sweet sweet juice that he can never get enough of.

“sh—shit!” you attempt to laugh through the pleasure but jaehyuns nose rubs against your clit. “oh, god— i’m gonna cum.” you whisper.

your hands begged to be released. they’d begged to just be lost in his soft locks but the restraints held you hostage.

“fuck— i’m— i’m cumming!” you pant out.

jaehyun quickly laps up your juice and sucks your clit. he brings his a pair of fingers to your pussy and thrusts them into your cunt. it was a perfect fit— your walls snuggled him tightly while he thrusted them to fuck you through your orgasm.

“fuckfuckfuckfuck!” you squeal and turn to your side as it gets too much. jaehyun sits up and licks his fingers clean. “i wasn’t quite finished, baby.” you shake your head (and so did your legs).

“i think.. i think im done for the night.” jaehyun uses the back of his hand and wipes his mouth and around. “hm, i think i remember you saying that this week is your ovulation week and that.. you’ve been wanting another mini us. right?”

you turn back and face him with a nod afterwards. “i do but, i don’t think i can have so many orgasms in one night. i mean, don’t get me wrong— it feels amazing but, sir, i am going to be sore before sunrise.” you laugh and jaehyun reaches forward, untying the ribbons from your hands and ankle.

“one more round, baby. one more.” you look at the clock on jaehyuns nightstand— it was almost three in the morning.

you bite your lip to hide the cheeky smile. “i guess another round wouldn’t hurt.” jaehyun softly chuckles and grabs you by the waist.

jaehyun hovers you over his lap and sinks you down on his cock. “w—wow.” you laugh with nerve and adjust to the size.

you swore he grew everyday.

“god, you’re so.. huge.” you and jaehyun both laugh. “take your time, baby. we’ve got all night ahead of us.” you rest your hands on his shoulders and let out a extended exhale.

“that’s it, baby.” jaehyun says as he feels you move your hips in a circular motion. “keep moving your hips like that.” he sets his hands on your hips and squeezes them while your roll them in circles.

jaehyun reaches down and uses his thumb to rub your clit. “i—im sensitive, dickhead!” you grab his wrist and he laughs. “i’m sorry, i am.” jaehyun hugs your waist and presses a kiss on your chest.

jaehyuns hands rest on your ass and pulls you on. “let me help, baby.” jaehyun drops your ass and picks it back up.

you moan and jaehyun smiles. “i love how you sound, baby.” you dig your chin into his shoulder in embarrassment. “you sound so fucking adorable when getting fucked by me.”

jaehyun holds your hips still and uses the wall as a support for his back to push his hips up.

“oh, my god.” you gasp, nails digging into his soft skin while jaehyun pounds into you. “oh, god, im gonna cum.”

“wait for me, baby. i wanna cum together.” jaehyun whispers.

several seconds pass by and you are reaching your climax with jaehyun. his cock pumping his load into you while you attempt to recover from your orgasm.

“can we shower?” you ask with drowsy eyes. “how’bout we take a bubble bath instead?” you softly laugh, lifting your head off his shoulder. “use nanas bubbles?” jaehyun nods and you do as well.

jaehyun holds you close while climbing off the bed and to the bathroom where the pair of you took a bath with bubbles.

you’d fallen asleep which jaehyun thought was absolutely adorable.

A/N: tbh there was no boxing related in here HAHA. but, it was just a cute little thing to write. :)

[restlesssinner]

Since X-mas is coming up soon, here’s some Santa lore to quiet those non-believers:

The reason Santa makes it to so many houses in one night isn’t just magic, it’s because he only brings presents to kids who write him letters. Do you know a lot of kids who still write letters?

Also, most of the kids that write letters give them to their parents, who then keep the letters for themselves and pretend the presents they buy are from Santa.

And of those kids who send real mail, how much of it do you think is properly marked and delivered? A lot of kids get the address wrong or send it through the wrong postal services, and it’s not Santa’s responsibility to track down every lost letter.

Plus there’s rules. Santa delivers only one present per kid, and to kids only. Also only realistic presents, no “getting your parents back together” or “a jet ski”. Santa’s elves are toy makers, not genies.

And it’s only the kids who are on the nice list, obviously. The kids who asked for stuff but were on the naughty list used to get coal, but that policy has been revoked due to the skyrocketing value of coal.

Any other dumb questions are answered by magic. Why isn’t his sack big and heavy? Portal magic. Why isn’t he spotted by tons of people? Cloaking magic. Why aren’t parents confused by that one present they don’t remember buying. Hypnotic magic.

And finally, no, the Santa Clause isn’t lore accurate. Santa Claus is the supernaturally immortalized form of Saint Nicholas, a former human born 270 AD. The rumors are based on one guy who tried to kidnap him and take his place, but he was promptly dealt with.

Hope this helped, follow for more polytheistic research and world-building!

[leafatlaw]

in between npmd relistens I’ve become more and more fond of the barbecue monologues song and Ruth as a character.

Because, in the meta of things, the barbecue monologue is just the latest of StarKid reoccurring gags they do every show. In every Hatchetfield musical there’s one song that isn’t from the musical, but instead exists in universe. Working boys, Santa clause goes to high school, and now, the barbecue monologues. A silly overdramatic song from a high school production of a made up play. But there’s something about this song that’s sets it apart from the others and makes it more than a meta joke:

The song actually has an importance on the story. Look I love working boys as much as the next guy, but as a whole, it serves to be the one song that’s a normal song in cannon, aka not part of the alien parasite. But beyond that, it’s supposed to be a purposely cheesy corney musical written by a guy living alone in a bunker. It’s cool but not much else.

And then the Santa clause one from Black Friday, is a call back to the original. Fans loved it so much they did it again! And it’s good, as well, it’s a fun little song. And in addition to that, it complements the shows theme, being a cash grabbing soulless movie musical, that uses the holidays to sell tickets. It’s perfect for a show which is a critique of capitalize and all it inspires! It’s thoughtful but ultimately just something to show while our two main characters get together.

So that brings us to npmd, by now it’s become a staple of the trilogy, but now the series has changed as well. The world of hatchetfield has come alive with people and places, enough to fill two seasons of nightmare time! So the song changes as well. For the first time, the song being sung has an impact beyond being sung in canon. The barbecue monologue serves as our first and finale looking into Ruth as a real character. Before this she had been nothing, but a funny side character, a really really horney nerd. But in the span of one song, we find out so much about her. She wants to be an actor singing on stage but her anxiety prevents that. She belts out a song that has nothing to do with her own life but relates to it nevertheless. The emotion she puts into “the burning of the candle”, the love of attention her and the character both share, they’re both stuck in lives they hate but are trapped in, just for once-

And unlike the character in the play, Ruth doesn’t get the chance to be middle aged and unhappy. She’s dead, in the same moment we realized she was a real person, she’s gone. And that’s why I love this song so much. What could have been a silly gag is now one of the most emotion charged songs of the musical and lets us see the character in a whole new light. anyways

[shiorilizzy]

My thoughts about Wriothesley

Literally my thoughts about him, and his personality when I play the game.

He had a wonderful childhood, before he knew the truth. He thought he was the lucky child in the world, had been adopted and lived happily with silbling.

Based on his personality when we get close to him (and his sense of humor), I think he used to be a talkative child. Not the energetic one but the one who has a positive, extrovert vibe. I can image Wriothesley, in the past, giving newcomers a sweet and encouraging smile while walking them around the house.

So well-behaved *sob*

His smile used to be so pure and sweet, kind. I think in a normal life, Wriothesley could be a kind entrepreneur or a nice, helpful officer. He is easy-going and willing to help others.

So when he knew the truth, it devasted him. Imagine your dear parents, your saviors, your most loved ones, you used to swear that you would protect them when you grow up, but actually use you like livestock. He would feel like a clown. He was furious from the betrayal. I’m sure it ruins every memory, warm feeling of him about childhood. I can imagine how struggling he was (or is) to endure the thought that his dear memory was nothing but fake.

Think about a lively teenager who suddenly lost everything. He couldn’t rely on anybody or anything. He must be angry so much. Why now? Why did they lie? Why they were careless to let him know the truth? Why?

I think Wriothesley, sometimes, just sometimes, wishes that he could die without knowing the truth. So he could remain as a pure boy who had a beautiful childhood.

But nothing can undo, his memory about his childhood now was stained by the dirty truth. He may talk about his past with ease now but it still bothers him.

After all those years, he still healing and comforting his wounds. He avoids touching it or digs deeper into it. He even doesn’t connect with any of his “silblings”, knowing that helping them could hurt him more.

Living in the fortress taught him that everyone has their own story, their own reason, well most of them. So do his “parents”, but he doesn’t want to understand that, he doesn’t want to empathize with them. If he does, who will empathize with him? Who will bring back his pure childhood to him? Who will let him have a life as a “clean profile” citizen? No one. So just let him despite them.

 That’s why he went himself to the criminal house in the teaser. He wants to protect that child’s world so she can live a happy life, unlike him. When that girl gets older, she will understand her father's guilt.

Although Wriothesley is an easy and sassy guy, he will bonk whoever tells children that Santa Clause isn’t real.

Overall, Wriothesley is deeply hurt and he is trying his best to heal that trauma. I know every character in Genshin has an unforgettable past but hyv did really well at Wriothesley’s. I can feel his pain and struggle through every single line. (or maybe because I like him too much ig lmao)

Wriothesley is smart with craft things. If whoever plays Tears of Themis, you will understand what I mean. Wriothesley plays with materials just like Luke. We can bring him a broken clock and he will fix it as if his hobby. Maybe he will even add more functions to that clock lmao. (Something like an alarm when is tea-time).

Wriothesley admits that he has trust issues and most of his friends are not human. I guess they are Melusines. They may be weird a little bit and cannot understand or act like humans, but Wriothesley can trust them since they are not as greedy as humans

As a happy boy he used to be, Wriothesley loves playing =))) He enjoys his daytime with many entertainment. He will delay work till night if it’s not urgent. He is smart enough to be lazy.

One more reason is he wants to sleep faster. If he does the work at night, it will drain his energy. As soon as he flops on the bed, he falls asleep. Better if he is tired enough that he can’t even dream of anything. He doesn’t want to sleep alone in bed, thinking about his life, past life.

Omg please Wrio let me hug you. I will pamper you into sleep every night QAQ.

Lmao he has a sweet tooth. I thought he likes the bitterness of the tea when I heard that he drinks it usually until I see this. Ptff men are just bigger boys.

[me-uglypretty]

believe me

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Reader

Summary: Leigh finds herself enjoying a festive night with someone than being alone, where believing doesn’t feel like false tale of hope.

Warning: (18+), fluff | 5k words

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A festive holiday bloom cheers around, thrusting shades of Christmas merriments unto faces and places, pestering some into spitting verses that wakes their spirits than leave them in their own tranquillity. Jiggle bells chimes piercingly, overplayed music made jaded by radios and people striving in their festive cheers.

And Leigh Shaw, who ironically, doesn’t hate the holiday, but rather preferred the tranquillity aspect of it.

The fragments where she was left alone in her own space, without anyone ushering her into sampling Christmas cookies or festive themed perfumes, without her mother urging her to try on another ugly sweater while her sister slips pass easily with an excuse of work, without pretending that she wasn’t still dodging the idea of Christmas after the last was spend without him, and another year marks that loneliness in her chest.

Though, she had moved on—but festive seasons left her in an indistinguishable state.

Despite that, she had accepted Drew’s invitation for his annual white elephant party. Her friend insisted her attendance as compulsory which left her scowling at the small Christmas themed paper bag that held a large scented candle.

It most definitely wasn’t taken from her mother’s vast collection of candles.

Thus, she found an escape in the kitchen. Hope bubbling in her chest that peace would remain in her own vacant space, and she could for few hours, ignore her required attendance for Drew’s party.

“Honey, can you grab those papers for me?” her mother’s voice resonates from somewhere in the house.

Leigh’s eyes darts around the kitchen and fell upon the stack of papers. “Are you leaving now?” she asked, already taking the steps ahead to take those papers to her mother.

Amy appeared by the kitchen entrance with a large beige tote bag hanging from her shoulder. “Yes, those children have long wishes for Santa Clause this year.”

While she was wallowing in her own pity, her mother had volunteer at a Christmas event made for an orphanage which became a reoccurrence deed after her parents’ divorce.

“And who’s breaking the news to them that Santa isn’t real?” her nose scrunches at that.

Amy crossed her arms with an offended look on her face at the supposed dreadful words of her daughter. “Maybe you could write a letter to Santa to help with that attitude.”

Thus, her mother snatched the stack of papers from her with a victorious smile plastered on her face at her daughter’s shocked face. Leigh doesn’t budge from where she stood, staring at her mother’s form leaving their shared house.

In the silence of her home, Leigh contemplated the idea. Those youthful Christmas evenings which were pleasant and calm. She was seven then, always rousing in anticipation at every sound of bells, aiding herself into being good as naughty children aren’t allowed to enjoy their gift. Though, the spark of mischief does flutter about.

Amy conceived the idea of writing to Jolly Saint Nick as a fun activity for their family. Leigh was beyond trilled at that young age, unaware of fictional versus reality, and only relishing in sheer innocence.

Of course, the sparks of such glee faded after her parents’ separation.

“Oh, fuck it,” she expressed bitterly. The heavy stump of her feet reverberates throughout their typical American home’s agile wooden frame.

Leigh asserted herself an unpredicted task. The white paper she found on her work desk, a pen that was laid on the floor, and an old envelope with a strange yellow tinge. And there, in the comfort of her room, she sat by her desk, tongue peak at the edge of her mouth as she wrote with an undeniable fury in mind.

The letter was written with an imaginal speed, alternating between glaring out the window at someone’s hired Santa Claus, then at the messily laid items on her desk and settling on the piece of paper again. She knew exactly what she wanted to inform the jolly man, from what she had seen in the recent years to that of a folk tale not granting the worthiest wishes.

“Yeah, we’ll see what you think after this!” she was certain at that hour, he would read the fury filled confessional letter and would understand the utmost fury in her chest.

By the time she was slipping the letter inside the enveloped, and gluing it shut, her phone vibrates with a text. It diverted her sheer focus on the significant task which wakes a frown on her face, eyebrows furrowed, and lips pursed tightly.

Leigh was pained at every night glowing from faux light and the morning brighten by the sunrise, and atmosphere so optimistic, that she approached it as the worst symptom. But the envelope holding a letter to a fictional person, those were the seconds where she wasn’t in utter sorrow.

She persevered her clear avoidance for a second longer, then reluctantly checks her phone. A message indicating as a friendly reminder for the party in an hour. The reminder itself fuel annoyance from within, as she sighed, grumbled under her breath and pushed away the mess on her desk out of frustration.

Unbeknownst to her, the letter written in her own privacy and encompassed with a fiery anger, and perfectly folded in a stained yellow envelope, had miraculously fell into the Christmas themed paper bag which was untidily tossed on the floor. It daunts her silently for whatever truth it might carry or perhaps, a letter written in spirits of silliness than sheer hatred.

Leigh monotonous movement paid no mind to the fallen items nor the thought of ensuring her white elephant gift was in perfect condition. She wanted—needed the obscurity of a celebration to end before other requests for her labour were made.

The evening was essentially meant for relaxing, but here she was, mingling as her friend said, and meeting acquaintances to inform of her very much alive state. Despite the whispers observing her sadly, as though her mild happy mask might fall and they would expect to witness the bite of a widow.

Leigh couldn’t place herself in that head space. At least. not for that night. She was uncomfortable herself, and still, she vetted the best way to converse with others and hope the night ends sooner.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” the teasing voice of her friend appeared at her side, and a large arm fell over her shoulder. “I told you. It’ll be fun!”

She held herself from spewing filthy phrases at Drew. “Hmm, very nice. I’m loving the attention for this month’s widow, by the way.”

Drew muffled a laughter, his hand failing at this attempt as he releases the amused sound. “Oh god, Leigh, even death can’t stop your humour.”

“Because death doesn’t stop people from talking, Drew,” Leigh pointed out. “Anyway, when are we starting this? I have the house to myself and I would like some peace before chaos break loose.”

And with that—a loud voice echoes through the hall room, interrupting heaps of conversation, and those snacking to their stomach’s content.

“I’m sorry! Traffic was shit and I’m exhausted. I really need a drink and we can start this.”

In the blooming sound, mixes of cheers and greetings, Leigh’s attention was drawn to their recently arrived guest. There was a certain flair, appearing so out of breath and tired, but carrying the conversation around in such a tranquillity. She wasn’t aware of who had roused such attention, but she was curious to know why.

“Hey, you’re late again,” Drew exclaimed, and hauls Leigh to where their mysterious guest was chatting away. “I told you what time and look at you, arriving fashionably late.”

An excused smile traces the curves of your lips. “Traffic, Drew. It’s horrible and I don’t get how any of you haven’t lost your mind yet,” you explained, then your gaze fell upon those narrowed eyes, a chartreuse shade that seemingly drew your attention closer.

“Leigh, meet my business partner—”

You interrupted Drew as your hand extended coyly in greeting, followed by, “Hi Leigh, I’m Y/n.”

There seemed to be a decided difference between you and Leigh, only kept obvious as she stared at your hand, then meet the gaze of her friend and nodded her head.

“Are we starting this?”

Drew doesn’t prolong the greeting. He understood from very early on that her friend’s patience wasn’t something to tease. Instead, he smoothly led his friend to the empty space on the couch. The party attendees crowd around the same area, eagerly awaiting to exchange their gifts with another.

Leigh situated herself among festive cheers. The overplayed Christmas songs in the background and shameless voices singing off-key, entirely buzzing from the holiday that she wanted to barf in her absolute angst phase.

An announced was made in commence of white elephant. The brief explanation consisted of;

“On this beautiful evening, we are gathered here together. To share our warm embrace, our love and our appreciate. We have our special gifts under the tree. My handsome husband would pass the hat filled with number chits, so everyone picks one. Just one, don’t get greedy! Once that’s done, we’ll start calling out the numbers and you would get your amazing white elephant gift.”

Murmurs around enlightened her, the transparency of those only arousing for gifts more than the celebration of being together. It irks her as they chatted about a thousand different topics, incidents that had occurred which surely wake a glance at her direction, then the hope for those outside to have an equally pleasant Christmas.

After the hat had arrived at her side of the wide maroon couch which neither strangers nor acquittances decided on sitting beside her, only Drew and his husband weren’t treating her like an outcast—she forced a smile, picking a number chit out, and crossing her arms on her lap as they continued.

On the opposite, beneath the pale amber shine from a lamp, you were seated with an amused smile and waiting—then, you met her gaze, the sight of your smiling face made her shift her gaze to the table. Her chest felt unnerving under your gaze, like were people truly that drawn to your charm and were you truly thrilled by such obscurity?

Leigh remained with her riveted facade as the activity continued, regarding the knowing feeling of your firm gaze. She resumed a placid expression on her face while a gloomy calm whirl from within. She nodded her head when her number was announced, muttering her thanks, and cradling her square shaped gift.

Just few more minutes, she had reminded herself with the flickering hope that her freedom would be granted soon enough. And she wouldn’t have to contemplate you for whatever reasons she couldn’t rationalise nor be known to.

So, she waited, burrowing her mind into the miniature decorations on the table, some grazed by her fingers in sheer interest. At some point, she had completely redrawn herself from the happening around, and absentmindedly picked at the wrapping paper layered over her gift.

“And number 22! Oh look, it’s our late comer.”

The laughter that erupts, nudged Leigh’s attention ahead and where her gaze fell upon you. An apologetic expression displayed on your face as you muttered several excuses before receiving your gift. Unlike the rest, voices were ushering you into opening your gift with the reasoning of your recent arrival in town.

The small gift that was handed to you—in what miraculous way—was the same brilliantly considered gift by Leigh. The unmissable Christmas themed paper bag that she could perceived among cluster of people, as it was the same paper bag gifted to her by her estranged father, two years back.

It wasn’t anything—and yet, she was anxious. Her eyes widening by seconds that pass, and her gaze fixed on you. The motion of your hand removing the extra crumpled coloured papers inside, how your fingers twitches and the subtle reaction on your face at what you saw. It was confusion at first, till a grin appeared heartily.

A white candle, it was short but wide in size, entirely held by your hand as the other grips the Christmas themed paper bag. It was considered favourable in your gleaming eyes, inspecting it, and sniffing the scent with a satisfied smile.

Among the scene of your contented appearance and her face pulling in a smile, the murmurs wake in disdain sounds. Questions rose of the cost, sneering judgment at the gifted object, and condemning eyes assessing for the culprit on their cheap gift.

Their criticism had only ceased by the sound of your whistle, mockingly at those convicting faces. “A candle,” you muttered, tilting the supposedly offending object in your hand. “It’s funny. I was considering buying one of this, but I was quite busy and now…” you motioned toward the candle, “I have this.”

It was faint, the jiggle melodies drifting in the air and the grumbles of some. Rude, she heard one said. Someone else muttered, boring.

“I’m reading the room and it’s telling me,” you paused, fluttering your eyes for affect before staring absently at the Christmas tree. “It’s telling me that some people love showing off which is weird…isn’t Christmas about being grateful with what you have? Or I’m missing the whole point.”

A blanket of silence made your statement more thrilling, at least, for the captivated mind of Leigh. Perhaps, she wasn’t regretting the idea of attending her friend’s Christmas party. If drama was promised among self-praised and rich brats, she would had happily skipped her way into the party.

You were stunning at that, alluring them into your trajectory and waking the worse of their nightmares. To be called out in front of many, and your triumphant smile stirred a fuming crowd.

“Okay! We all love candles! Don’t we just love them? Let’s move on!” Drew exclaimed, diverting the attention from your outburst and hollering for his husband to announce the next number.

The attention on your form declined as the next number was revealed. Leigh watches warily as you slipped out from their mind and away from the room, without attracting the slightest attention. It propelled her curiosity, blooming furiously to know who and why you had reacted so differently than most, and why she was persuaded into needing to know you.

Leigh stood up with impatience. If the night was to end, it must end by her own preference. By that, the curiosity of which she followed, wide steps and poised body. Her eyes observantly tracked your whereabouts.

It seemed impractical. “I just have to thank this kind person for appreciating a scented candle,” she spoke to herself, the feeble attempt of steering away from her true intention in replace for deception.

A thud from a closed door, directed her towards the sound. Her wanted exit, and where you lingered outside, ignoring the cold wind and clutching the Christmas themed paper bag in your hand. An additional jacket was draped over your shoulder. You were making a desired exit from the party, the same way she desired.

Leigh announced her presence, the same way she would when she leaves them stunned.

“Hey, you,” she uttered with utmost irritation. “What— hey, why are you laughing?”

Leigh furrowed her eyebrows and her mouth gaped, she looked perplexed at the laughter that left your mouth. It does nothing, but made her stomach uneasy, dotting down the unfamiliar sensation in her chest as she approached you. Her ardent gaze fixed on you and gift you clutched to your chest, and the shake of your head, as if, you had changed your mind over something.

“I’m assuming you want this back?” you inquired, without irritation laced in your tone, but something softer and kind. A pointed gaze fixed on the Christmas themed paper bag.

She appeared surprised at your revelation. “How did you know?

“I have my ways,” you teased, straightforwardly extending your hand towards her direction. “Nice to meet you. I’m a big fan of your articles,” you praised her, then squinting your eyes, “You’re not wearing that magical eyeliner, are you?”

This wasn’t the expected conversation she formed in her head. It brooded her mind to what she assumed and what made her need to meet you. While the soft humming of a familiar Christmas song wobbles her heart, the muscle of your throat bobs with that, and it feels like a stroke of youth, the innocence and untainted joy.

There’s a certain spark in your posture, seemingly free from the world’s burden, and vibrant, so alive than the image of herself, reflected on a foggy mirror. And you smiled, mindful to her attentive eyes.

Leigh’s eyes dart the width of your face and hindered on your mouth, where your lips move, talking to her of something she hasn’t registered in her mind. “What are you?” she asked, taking another step closer and clasping your hand in hers.

It's strange—the warmth of your palm, the cold that seeps at the tips of your fingers, the softness of your skin, and the lines in between where she felt a little roughness.

You squeezed her hand, a split second, your gaze fell on linked hands before meeting her ardent eyes and drawing your hand back. “Drew’s business partner for his new gay bar or something, he hasn’t decided yet. So, eyeliner?”

It's even stranger, more so, when her lips curves with smile and her cheeks felt the unfamiliar stretch of skin. “Drew is always changing. He’s very indecisive,” she shared, her body relaxing as the hand that touched yours, pressed on her arm, a palpable itch surfaced. It’s nothing, she convinced herself in blunt falsehood.

Opposite her, contemplation rouse in your mind. “Want to get out of here? I think I saw a hot chocolate booth somewhere down the street,” you spoke with delight in your voice. “We don’t have to, but I think we could use something more exciting than this,” and you vaguely gestured towards where the sound of cheers could be heard.

Leigh played an indifference facade at the offer. “Sure, whatever,” she shrugged.

When the offer was accepted, you grinned, then shake your head, like a silent joke was made and you knew it better than her. But it doesn’t irritate her as most do, as it only increased her curiosity, and she undoubtedly followed your exit from the party she dreaded.

The night breathes a whiff of brilliance and a frosty touch which left throats drought, and thirsty for something warm. Leigh felt that dryness spread from her mouth to throat, and her hands, one holding the gift while the other grasped by the wind. Silence was conveyed between two with something in between, the impulse to speak and the warning to wait.

As soon as the hot chocolate booth appeared in your line of sight, the flair of excitement which she perceived as endearing, appeared with a thumb pointed at said direction while the distinguish warmth latched to her hand, made her motionless. Leigh doesn’t comprehend the touch of your hand over hers, neither did your consciousness reminded you the grasps of strangers.

The childlike manner in which you dragged her towards the booth, establishing a wordy thought of not missing out on something warm, and the soft chuckles that send waves of a new song to her heart.

An elderly couple greeted their new customers. The clasps of hands tighten as the order was made with clear description for the most favourable cup of chocolate drink. Neither Leigh or you, had acknowledged the differences in the night air. Not after ordering and paying while still holding a stranger’s hand, not after sharing a brief conversation about the weather, and only after a comment passed jovial faces, did she realise the unknown, and similarly, so did you.

“Aren’t they a lovely couple?” one voice claimed, sharing years of wisdom in an elderly tone, and the other returned with a soft hum. “Merry Christmas, and we hope you have many more Christmas together.”

The faithful event diverted Leigh’s gaze from the steaming cups to where her hand was linked with yours, the firm touch of something so different, the same that lifts the air she breathes, and upwards where a bemused expression settled on your face. Upon noticing her eyes gazing directly at yours, almost instantly, your hand fell from hers and an obligatory distance was made between two.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, embarrassment spread your cheeks with warmth. “Got a little carried away. You know, hot chocolate,” you nodded your head towards the brown recyclable cups on the counter, before taking one of them in the same hand that once held hers.

Leigh mirrored your action, grasping the cup with her free hand and taking a short sip. She smacks her mouth, tasting the sweetness that tickles her tastebuds, and played on her known unbothered facade. To further push her narrative, she waves her hand with the gift, dismissing the mistake, and nudged her head towards a vacant bench.

However, she found herself deeply invested in your bashful appearance, a vast difference than the peak confidence that woke annoyance within some. Your round eyes, curious and warm, gazed at everything that wasn’t remotely entertaining, while maintaining a clear distance and avoiding eye contact.

“So, you’re new here?” Leigh questioned, adjusting her body to the wooden bench, as you sat contentedly and take mouthful sips of your drink.

Your eyebrows knitted, “Is it obvious?” and the cup was set aside. “Well, I’ve been around,” you briefly explained before crossing your legs on the bench and turning to face her.

Leigh followed your movement, both sitting crossed legs on the bench and facing the other. A smile drew on her face at your antics. The anguish that enveloped her, cease to exist in that hour. It’s almost charming, she thought. The way words flew from your mouth in haste and settled in a heartily laughter, the kind that made her chest feel contented. Despite the look of disbelief on her face.

“Hmm, you’re definitely going to be the talk for weeks,” she enlightened, wiggling her eyebrows teasingly.

You winced at the reminder. “God, what was I thinking?” you murmured, shaking your head.

At the same time, two phares caught between two voices; you weren’t and I wasn’t.

It made Leigh amused. “You’re so cancelled,” she drew out each word slowly, and tucked her bottom lip between her teeth.

“I don’t care,” you shrugged, gaze lingering on her mouth then meeting her eyes. “Plus, I got a candle, a delicious cup of hot chocolate, and a pretty girl by my side. What about them? They have nothing but their prestigious party and pretending. So, I’m obviously the winner here,” you declared, straightening your back as you did.

“Obviously,” Leigh repeated, purposely ignore the compliment that made her cheeks warm, and you, seemingly grasping her teasing tone, repeated the same word. “Obviously,” you said with a fond smile.

Leigh had barely, for the longest time, looked at someone in such captivation. But you were sat opposite her, beaming at the shared conversation, gazing into verdant eyes, so perfect beneath the pale street lights and flickers of faux amber light from stores close by.

“I want to show you something,” she uttered in a whim. “I think you would like it,” she added, the whispers of her heart claimed for more; I think I like you too.

The suggestion left you no room for denial as you nod your head, overcome with excitement for her outstretched hand and the warmth that resurfaced when skins touch.

“I have a feeling,” you whispered, a childlike tone in your voice as she leans closer. “It might snow in California,” the sheer optimism in your voice, almost made her melt.

She doesn’t stop the brief chuckle that fell from her mouth. “You’re silly,” she indicated, squeezing your hand in hers.

And it’s right—the warmth that tickles her chest and yours, the blow of wind that whispers of something so sweet, the glaze of a festive holiday they speak so heavenly of, everything felt right.

The ocean whooshed a song, each wave resonating peace, and tranquillity carried forward to those stood by the structure raised above body of cold water—where Leigh breathes the air of salty and sweet, where your shoulder touched hers, and the pier buzzed for the encounter of two strangers.

Leigh always preferred to remain composed, and exercise her irritation in the privacy of her mind, unless provoked beyond concealing her genuine emotion. However, the feelings that woke with her each morning, and slept with her through the night, seemed like a feeble memory in her mind.

Why did she dread the holidays? Why was she happily immersing herself in your company?

“Aren’t you curious?” the sudden question in the air, made her shift her attention to you. “What’s in that box?” you pointed at the square gift still in her grasps.

Leigh squints her eyes, “Really? Don’t you have your own gift?”

“Ouch, sorry,” you huffed, appearing offended, while the round of your eyes remained with a glint that made her smile wider.

It never happened, it shouldn’t, but she passed the gift to you. “Open it, and I’ll hold this,” she takes the Christmas themed paper bag from you, but the tug from your hand hindered her attempt.

“No, what if you take back my candle?” you asked. “I mean, that’s why you came after me, didn’t you?”

Leigh pondered the question prodding through her mind. There was a liable reason on her intention that led to her tracking you down, accepting your offer and allowing you to lead her away from the dreaded party, and here, where the moon shone an enchanting glow across the night sky and reflecting flawlessly on the ocean.

Leigh takes a step back, her hand spread out on the wooden railing. She felt the coarse texture of worn timber, and the pulsing of her heart through her ears, but she hears the song of a peaceful ocean, and she thinks, this has been the most bliss she had felt in months, years, and just too long.

“I guess, you’re interesting,” she spoke with significance. “A new face, someone who’s not expecting something from me, I don’t know— it happens. Heck, maybe it was something in the drink,” she added the latter part impulsively, fearing a more in-depth confession to leave her heart.

Silence emits between two, and she glance at you, still staring ahead into the endless ocean. There was a quirk of your lips, like a smile teasing to curl and for her heart to drop, entirely surrendering to whatever made her feel better.

“I’m trying to play it cool,” you voiced out, Leigh’s gift placed on the railing while yours daggles from your hand. “But it’s really hard,” you paused, shifting your gaze to meet her.

The penetrating gaze troubled Leigh, but she forced a smile on her face, and for what unknown reasons, she felt the ache of rejection and feared it.

You slanted into her space. “I think you’re pretty,” you whispered. “Maybe, just maybe, I asked Drew if you were coming and…that was the only reason I went to that tedious party,” you confessed shyly, still maintaining eye contact.

Leigh looked at you, as though, the most unbelievable information was thrown her way and she forced to believe it—not that her heart gnawing for those words to escape, for the lump in her throat to fade, for you to come closer and for her to feel you, like how she wishes to know you.

She doesn’t know why, but the first start of it, seemed like the best as she uttered, “Just maybe?” and your smile widens to your round cheeks. “Just maybe,” you replied.

When eyes stayed gazing into each other, heart beats raised to the wondrous occasion.

“And how I can trust you?” she questioned, moving inches closer that she could almost feel your breath fanning over her face.

Then, she felt the familiar and wanting warmth that spread her hand, the same place where your hand rest.

“Like I said, I’m a fan of your articles, and I saw you at the office few days ago, kind of changed my life,” you admitted, “But of course, I tried not being weird about it— and here we are,” you lifted the Christmas themed paper bag.

Leigh doesn’t believe in faith or the universe’s mystical ways of working things out as her mother profusely believed. But a plague of hope pushes her further into your realm.

“Hmm, is this some Christmas hallmark movie?” Leigh turns her hand over, pressing her palm firmly against yours.

“Believe me,” you whispered, a sense of promise laced with your voice, and she fell for it—she believed you. “This is so much better.”

The most unexpected trust merged with a stranger, with you.

She takes a deep breath, and exhaled her worries. Then, the swift grasps of her hand in yours, pulling your body closer. The next act, an impulse press of lips, and she feels your surprised gasp, before your mouth surrendered and you were kissing her back.

She found solace there, without isolation or running off to another temporary escape, and it was you, the stranger who held her close and pressed bodies together.

“A Christmas miracle,” you claimed, slightly winded by the shared kiss. “Or whatever they say.”

The night continued from a fond encounter, an even sweeter kiss, and the touch that left her aching for days to come. A memory made for Christmases to come, better than the last, and perhaps, more beautiful than those fading images in her mind.

“Yes,” Leigh murmured, her hand that found space on your cheek, caress the skin beneath her touch.

Your eyebrows furrowed, confusion swirling in your mind for the answer of an unknown question. “What?”

It doesn’t feel embarrassing or sad, as she answered, “I am wearing that eyeliner.”

Confusion dissolved in your feature as the corner of your lips curls, not knowing to smile or to laugh at the sudden respond.

“Well,” you paused, feeling something wet dribble on your face as you lifted your head to face the sky. “It’s snowing…in California?”

The bewildered expression on your face made her laugh wholeheartedly to the extent of feeling the almost unknown ache in her stomach from laughing so hard.

“It’s rain, silly,” she teased, and kissed you with the utmost desire to feel you, every part of you.

There, where rain fell upon two, an unexpected weather forecast and an unexpected shower of love, where mutual feelings manifest for years to come.

Leigh observes your expression at that hour, for the next, till the morning came, and she felt the same. A growing sense of comfort and love. It fuels her chest to bring you closer with a promise to allow her heart to feel everything she dreaded, and to believe in love again.

And Leigh Shaw, who ironically, despised the idea of celebrating such festive things—found herself wrapped in your arms the following year, her chest bubbling with laughter from a joke shared as her family joined. The festive occasion marked the first year of a beautiful relationship.

“Of course, Leigh had a huge crush on me,” you murmured, pressing a haste kiss on her head.

Leigh doesn’t shift from her comfortable position. “Of course,” she repeated, teasingly slapping your thigh as you purposely conveyed the partly false narrative of your first encounter. “Of course,” you said,and when eyes meet, the love that blooms were promised forevermore.

And where love was found, still unknown to them was a letter hidden inside a paper bag—unopen and forgotten.

But the universe, majestic and all, works in mysterious ways.

Bonus: Leigh Shaw’s letter to Santa Claus—

Dear Satan Santa Claus,

What the fuck is up man?

Everyone’s so excited for you. Don’t people go lay in the snow or go ice skating anymore? I know, I’m from California, but what’s the fuck is up that you have everyone under you spell? I literally saw a mom fight off another mom for the last Santa statue.

You’re fiction. But people believe you more than the news.

I think people believe in fiction more than reality. It’ll be easier to cope, right?

If I pretend that I’m not miserable, then I would be okay. Maybe I can pretend that my life isn’t cursed. My husband, still dead, can’t bring him back, but maybe, there’s this stupid love that latch on to me and I’m happy. Maybe it’ll snow and someone will hold my hand.

I just want to believe in something or someone without breaking my heart again.

New flash; I’m still a widow in my thirties, without a purpose in life.

Tell me, old man, why are people so confident that you would grant their wishes?

You didn’t give me my parents back for that shitty Christmas. A fiction tale, that’s you.

Honestly, fuck everyone for thinking that I shouldn’t feel shit during this time and that I should wake up feeling happy.

And fuck you, Santa Claus. I will never forget the worse Christmases that everyone swore will get better after you came at midnight.

I don’t want gifts. I want to be happy for once without feeling like something bad will happen.

Okay. I’m done.

Yours truly,

Leigh Shaw.

(p.s. i never wanted a ken doll, i wanted two barbies)

[yoi-incorrect-quotes]

Minami: I just saw Yuuri kissing Santa Clause!

Yurio: Santa isn’t real

Chris: that was just Victor in a costume

Minami: wow!

Yurio: *gags* I think I liked the first option more

[everything-person]

Kazoos Advent Calendar

@kazoosandfannypacks day

⚠️WARNING ⚠️

Under cut is not to be shared with children!

Todays gift is a story of Emma trying to explain Santa to Killian.

“Swan?”

“Yeah babe?”

“How do we know Santa Claus?”

That caused Emma to stop she was doing and look up at her husband. He wore a genuine look of curiosity.

“Wh-” Emma paused giving thought to what exactly she wanted to ask.

Killian took this moment to speak up, “Earlier today you told Hope Santa Claus was coming. All day I tried to figure out who this person was and how we know them. My apologies love but I can’t remember them or their importance and I’d rather get this settled before their visit. When are they visiting?”

Emma couldn’t help the slow smile spread across her face and the small chuckle escape her lips.

“Swan I’m being serious.”

Emma waves her hands and shake her head. “No I know. I sometimes forget- Never mind. Um We don’t know Santa Claus personally.”

Killians eyebrows scrunch in further confusion. “Then why are they coming for a visit?”

“They aren’t.” Emma paused trying to think how best to explain this, “Santa Claus is a myth. We tell kids if they behave and are good kids. Santa Claus comes down the chimney on Christmas and leaves them gifts.”

As Emma is explaining she watches her husbands face morph from confusion to curiosity to horror to acceptance. “So we tell our daughter if she is good enough a strange man will break into our home and leave her a present.”

“He’s not a stranger. Everyone knows Santa. He lives at the North Pole and has elves to help him make all the toys. He rides a flying sleigh pulled by reindeer. He wears a red suit and hat with white fur trim, has a fluffy white beard, and is a jolly kind soul. He watches over kids and has a naughty and nice list. If you’re on the naughty list, you get coal. If you’re on the nice list you get presents.”

Killian nods, “So he’s a story.”

“Yes.”

“Like Peter Pan.”

“Yes. No. Kinda,” Emma stutters trying to find the best way to explain this, “Saint Nicholas was a real person. A kinda man who’s generosity gave way to the legend/myth of Santa Claus. Santa Claus now is a figure for the joy of giving. Anyone can be Santa we just all imagine him a a jolly old guy in a red suit. He’s one of the few pieces of magic we have in this realm.”

Killian hummed, “you sound like your mother lass.”

“Hey during Christmas that isn’t a bad thing.”

A couple of days go by and their conversation of Santa Claus all but forgot until one night.

Emma and Killian were curled up on the couch with Hope fast asleep on the floor in her nest of pillows and blankets and Henry drifting off in the arm chair. The family decided to have a double Christmas feature tonight. The credits of Santa Clause 2 began to roll on screen and Killian turned to his drowsy wife.

“Love were these based on the true story of Santa Claus?”

Emma let the giggle freely flow from her mouth, the word yes on the top of her tip but she bit down and said, “No I don’t think this is based on a true story. But in storybrooke you never know. I mean I am the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming and my husband is captain hook.”

“Yes well, in that case there’s no possible way these are true. Look what your realm did to my story.”

[pettytheftisntthatbad]

Opinions on the santa clause anon?

I fucking hate them so much. It’s so goddamn annoying. Santa isn’t fucking real and even if he was, he wouldnt be that annoying

[7-crows-in-a-trench-coat]

hate when assholes use santa clause, the easter bunny, tooth fairy, etc being made up as a reason to be cynical or to make kids sad.

“tHeY LiEd tO uS As KiDs, mAgiC isN’T ReAL aNd eVeRyThiNg SuCKs” ok but did you ever consider that the fact those ARE lies is just as amazing? that the real magic lies in the beauty of millions of adults, with or without kids, all agreeing to tell those stories so young children can experience a kind of joy unique to childhood while they still can?

you rube. you utter buffoon. the most magical thing about this world is a society’s collective cooperation to ensure the happiness of others.