#Undecorated trees only

[parfaitblogs]

i have more than enough ❀ s. reid x reader

in which the holiday season is achingly difficult to get through, when you are spencer reid, who believes he is no longer allowed to enjoy them. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: hurt/comfort tags: established relationship. post prison!reid. word count: 2k a/n: and for my final act? the parfaitblogs special (post prison reid fic to a searows song). merry christmas from australia because it IS the 25th here!!! this is the end of my christmas advent calendar!! i had soo much fun writing these stories thank you to all that requested ♡

❄︎ advent calendar masterlist

He does not deserve a Christmas. 

Perhaps that is the only thing that runs through Spencer Reid's mind the second the Halloween decor filtered out of the stores, reindeer mugs entered them; while candy canes and Santa hats adorned every little item, and Christmas trees lit up every corner of every mall.

No matter what state he traveled to, he couldn't escape the festivities of the holiday season. He's pretty sure he's the only person who wants to. 

You waited for him. He feels immensely guilty for just how much waiting you've had to do all year. Waiting for him to go to trial, waiting for him to get out of prison, waiting for him to let you in again. 

Waiting, waiting, waiting.

You're waiting again. A Christmas tree that blandly sits empty and undecorated in the corner of your shared apartment; a Christmas roast you aren't sure if you'll even cook takes up too much space in your fridge; gingerbread cookies you promised your friends weeks ago remaining unbaked. 

He knew you were upset about it. His Christmas loving girlfriend forced to mute the celebrations of her favourite holiday because he couldn't find it in him to be excited about it. 

He didn't know how to fix it, really. 

You had tried everything to get him back into the Christmas spirit he's had for the past three years you've spent together. Baking with him, picking out the very Christmas tree that leaves the room smelling like a pine forest together, Christmas shopping for the presents he had no will to buy for his family and friends. 

Nothing had worked. 

"Spence?"

Sitting awkwardly at his — now — very minimally decorated desk, his head lifts from the papers in front of him, eyebrows frowning towards each other as his eyes land on you.

"Hi," he murmurs, putting the pen in his hand down in an effort to give you his full attention. He was getting better at that, these days. 

"I finished dinner," you tell him, fingers fidgeting with one another; a recent habit he had noticed you'd developed in the months between his arrest and release. "If you want to come eat."

He doesn't, but then again, he never does. And despite how awful he feels, he feels even more so for what he's putting you through, and the guilt that chews away at him is enough to will him to do small things — like eating — for you. 

"Yeah," he breathes out, and stands up from the desk, following you silently over to the meal sitting at the edge of the kitchen bench you had cooked for the two of you.

Silence overwhelmed you two as you ate, as it usually does. Sitting curled up beside one another on the couch, sharing a blanket and yet still feeling so distant from each other regardless. 

"Did you call your mom?" you ask him, and his fork pauses in the plate. 

Right. It's Christmas. The time for calling family members and sharing love for them during this supposed to be joyous time. 

"Not yet," he shakes his head. "I'll... get to it. Before Christmas is over."

"You have a week," you remind him, though it isn't to be passive aggressive at all. You genuinely wonder if he's forgotten the date of Christmas that has quickly crept up on you both.

"I know."

You stare silently at the coffee table after a short nod to his words, and you wrack your brain for things to say, just to keep him talking.

"Can I give you your gift before Christmas day?" 

He lifts his head, and you feel his eyes transfix on you.

"If you want."

You want him to want it too, but you aren't sure if that's a reasonable wish anymore. 

"I do," you nod, and quickly finish up your food, before you stand, and leave the room altogether. 

He places his plate next to yours on the coffee table — he'd remember to get to cleaning those later — just as you return, a square shaped brown paper gift in your hands, a purple ribbon tied in a bow around it. 

"You got me a square?" he asks you, and your heart warms at the teasing tone in his voice. He's trying. 

"Open it," you press, instinctively shaking his shoulder with both hands pressed up against it. 

"Okay, okay."

He's meticulous in pulling the plain wrapping paper off, and you almost want to open the gift for him. 

"Did you make this?" he asks you as he carefully pulls the square apart in front of your eyes, though he does already know the answer before you have a chance to start nodding your head. 

A Victorian Puzzle Purse situates delicately in his hands. Hands that pull it apart ever so slowly, taking note of every little drawn and painted detail on the paper, opening it up to a letter that he spent two minutes reading through — confirming that he was not only reading it once through. 

"Do you like it?" you ask him, almost hesitantly. 

"Victorian Puzzle Purse's were how lovers would communicate for Valentine's day," he says, instead of answering your question directly, as he neatly folds it back up into the intricate origami square it was originally when he pulled it out. "Sorry," he quickly adds, his eyes landing back on you. "That wasn't an answer. I do. I like it a lot."

"I know it isn't much, but I don't want to overwhelm you with gifts this Christmas. I'm honestly not even expecting anything big. We can just order food in and watch movies or something this year, if you'd prefer. You just have to promise me you'll at least let me put mistletoe up outside our bedroom, because it's kind of become tradition and... sorry."

He's staring at you, half dumbfounded, half in awe, as you realise you were rambling instead of sitting in the moment of him enjoying something seasonal, but you can't even find it within yourself to be frustrated at it. For he is letting a small smile grace his lips, and you're leaning forwards with a smile of your own, and for a second or more, he is not the shattered prison man, and you are not his distanced girlfriend. 

"You can put mistletoe outside our bedroom," he says, and you're breaking into an even wider grin.

"Really?"

"It's tradition."

You light up enough for there to be no need for a decorated Christmas tree in your apartment anymore, and you're threading your fingers through his hand to drag him up off the couch. 

Your gift to him remains on the coffee table as you lead him over to your bedroom door, prompting him to stay still, as you disappear to find the piece of familiar fake greenery. 

"Mistletoe!" you present it to him, and he takes it from you habitually, using the pin you also hand him and pinning it above your heads on the doorframe.

"I think we need to buy a new one," he says, hands dropping back by his side. His eyes are trained on you, but your own head is still tilted back, inspecting the faux plant. 

"I think we need to buy a real one," you answer conclusively, finally dropping your gaze to him. 

"Next year," he confirms. "Tradition complete?"

You shake your head. "The tradition ends with a kiss."

Hesitation follows your words, and you instantly regret them. 

It wasn't that you didn't kiss, or weren't intimate in any way. It's simply that it was on occasion now, and almost always motivated by something more important than a silly mistletoe tradition.

"It's okay," you cover your unwelcome disappointment with a smile. 

He ignores your reassurance. "It does end in a kiss, you're right."

"But we don't have to," you mumble.

"Yes," his hands encase your waist to do nothing more than to pull you closer to him. "We do."

"Not if you don't want to."

"Did I say that?"

You open your lips to respond, but the words die on your tongue. 

"What did I do to make you think I don't want to kiss you, angel?" he's frowning now, and you feel guilt settle in your chest. 

"Nothing, really. We just—um—don't kiss... as much. Anymore. Which is fine, by the way, and I can understand it. You're under no moral obligation to kiss me. Obviously."

His frown deepens. "I think we're experiencing a bout of miscommunication."

"What?"

"I thought you didn't want to kiss me," he explains, and suddenly, you're mirroring the confusion on his face. 

"Why would I not want to kiss you?" you ask him, incredulously. 

His shoulders slump at the question, and you force yourself not to fill the silence that follows.

"Prison," he replies, quietly. "I didn't think you'd really even want me once I got out of prison. You don't initiate anything anymore, either. I just assumed."

"I didn't initiate anything because I was waiting for you to initiate stuff."

"I can see that now."

"I didn't want to rush you," you tell him, as earnestly as possible. "I know prison was a lot, and you still haven't told me everything that happened, but I wanted you to not rush yourself. Or... us, I guess."

He swallows the lump of emotion that lodges in his throat. "I thought you were disappointed in me. Or—well, scared of me."

"No," your heart shatters, and you're sure he can hear it in your voice as your hands instantly cup his cheeks, fingers brushing over his cheekbones. "No, oh my God, Spencer."

"You shouldn't use the lord's name in vain. It's Christmas," he jokes, weakly. The smile you give him is weak, too.

"I was terrified for you. I was so worried about you in prison, and—and what they were doing to you in there. But never of you. Not a single part of me will ever be scared of you, sweet boy."

"I'm scared of me," he whispers, and his voice cracks in a way that has tears welling in your eyes. "I think differently, you know."

"And that automatically means I should be scared of you? Or makes you any less deserving of love?"

His silence is enough of a response. 

"I love you," you settle on telling him. "No matter what baggage you came back to me with. You deserve so much love, and I hate that you have been through so much. So much so that you believe yourself undeserving. You are not. You never will be. I will spend the rest of my life proving that to you, if I must. Or as long as you will let me."

"Forever," he replies, and you feel his hands close over your own on his face. "I will let you forever."

"Thank God. It'd be kind of embarrassing if I say all this and then you were to break up with me tomorrow," you say, and his cheeks stretch beneath your hands as he huffs a laugh.

"I won't break up with you."

"I wouldn't let you, anyways."

"Oh really?" his hands slide down to your waist once more. 

"Yeah," you confirm with a small nod, your own hands dropping to his neck, interlacing behind it, as you draw his head closer to yours. "You're stuck with me."

"I have not a word of complaint," he replies, and he's close enough that you feel the words tattoo your lips. "I love you."

And then he's kissing you, and there is an overwhelming amount of neglected feelings you had been missing poured into you, from his soul to yours. 

It was a kiss so unlike what you had grown used to in recent months. Fingers dug into your waist as a violent reminder of what you mean to him, and for the first time since May, you believed it. 

When he goes to pull away, you barely give him time to get air before you're chasing his lips again, and he tugs you impossibly closer with a laugh that vibrates against your face. 

You kiss him until your hands go numb behind his neck, and your legs begin to ache, and your waist is sure to have bruised in the shapes of his fingertips. Chest heaving and eyes full of more adoration than you think one human can have for another, you meet his gaze once more.

"Tradition complete."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[chubby-bun-bun]

untitled (part 5)

You rope the busy businessman into enjoying the holiday spirit.

nav: one, two, three, four, five (current), six or: read on ao3

tags: sylus x reader, an au where you're an average citizen, slow burn, fluff, your shot's smoother than stephen curry's

“You set me up,” you accuse, pointing a finger at the culprit before you.

Your midnight-feathered companion merely squawks in your face.

Frowning, you scoop the garnet-eyed traitor into your arms. Try as you might, you can’t resist stroking its feathers, the soft, silky texture effectively subduing your vexation. The bird settles comfortably in your hold, pecking at some lint on your shirt.

Are you still plagued by your embarrassing encounter with the red-eyed Apollo of a man in the park last week?

Absolutely.

Are you being unfair by taking it out on an innocent animal?

You drop your face into your hands with a dejected sigh.

It’s the eve of the Frostlight holiday, and you’ve decided to visit one of the places you hold a lifetime voucher for—a quaint little coffee shop tucked away in a shopping district alley. Aside from wanting to shake off the holiday blues, worsened by the eerie quiet of your undecorated house (save for the tiny Frostlight tree your brother gave you as a gag gift on your fifteenth birthday), you’ve been eager to check out the place after its recent renovations.

You’d been enjoying the shop’s new seasonal latte, sitting at one of the outdoor tables, when the familiar sound of cawing reached your ears. Before you could look for the source, a blur of black feathers descended gracefully onto your tabletop, a tiny red gem bead clutched in its beak.

Normally, your friend’s surprise appearance would brighten your mood. But as the events of last week played out again in your mind, you couldn't help but launch into a one-sided tirade about how your little tag game with the bird had unfolded that night.

“He said his name was Sylus—he was so handsome,” you groan, idly tracing the condensation on your cup. “And such a gentleman, too! And I tripped over him.”

The crow pecks at the stack of tissues on your table.

“But he was bleeding,” you continue, your gaze drifting to your straw, now bent and chewed. “He looked really hurt. I tried to help him, but then he just stood up—like nothing happened!”

It abandons the tissues, opting instead to preen its feathers.

“Do you think it could’ve been his Evol?” you wonder. “If it was, that’s so cool. And really convenient, don’t you think?”

You glance down at your companion, only to find it engrossed in cleaning its glossy plumage, its blatant disregard for your monologue clear.

You huff.

Deciding to leave the bird to its own business, you let your gaze wander to the other shops.

Because it’s the eve of a well-awaited holiday, the shopping district is alive with activity. The booths are adorned with warm white lights, accented by the sparkle of colorful fairy lights. Even from a distance, the aroma of cookies, hot chocolate, and assorted pastries wafts through the air. At the heart of the district where the streets converge stands a towering Frostlight tree, its meticulously arranged decorations glimmering under the festive lights. Decorative wrapped presents are nestled beneath its branches, and a brilliant star crowns the top, casting a warm, radiant glow over the lively scene.

The crowd is a bustling mix: parents paying at booths, teenagers laughing boisterously in groups, children darting around with unchecked energy, pets drawing clusters of admirers… and a familiar, silver-haired man standing by a stall, his towering presence capturing the awe-struck attention of passersby.

You blink.

Before you even realize it, you're on your feet,  weaving through the crowd—nearly tripping over a couple of kids—until you finally reach the stall.

Breathless from your short dash, you rise onto your tippy toes and tap him on the shoulder.

He turns around, brows furrowed as he glances left and right, before finally looking down.

“Sylus, hi!” you blurt out, a toothy grin plastered on your face.

You're pleased to catch the surprise flicker in his eyes.

"Sweetie," he greets, the faintest tug of a smile playing at his lips. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“I was in the area trying this new latte...” you trail off, glancing down, only to realize your hands are empty.

You must’ve left it at the table, along with your little crow. 

You look back up at him sheepishly. (You send a half-hearted mental apology to the abandoned drink and bird.)

“New latte, huh?” he says, lips curling up into a smirk.

You realize his eyes are a beautiful, bright scarlet under the light.

“What about you? What are you doing here?” you ask, eyes curiously trailing over his dark button-up dress shirt. The sleeves are rolled up neatly, revealing toned forearms, the fabric adorned with slashes of deep red embroidery.

Sylus pauses. “Just… handling some business,” he replies, vaguely gesturing to the stall behind him. Around it, several well-built men in black attire and face masks move about—some standing idle, others murmuring in low voices, and a few weaving in and out of the stall's shadowy depths.

Your gaze shifts past them, landing on the vibrant display of oranges, clementines, pomegranates, figs, and other fruits neatly arranged in wooden crates.

“Oh! You own a fruit business?” you exclaim, your face lighting up with excitement.

You miss the slight grimace crossing his face.

“How lovely!” you say, already fishing for your wallet. “Allow me to support such a wholesome endeavor. I’d like two bags of pomegranates, please.”

A brief silence lingers between him and the nearby men. Then, he chuckles, flicking a finger over his shoulder. Two of them—smaller and seemingly younger than the rest, each sporting identical curls—exchange a quick glance before grabbing paper bags and clumsily filling them with pomegranates.

“Here you go,” one of them says with a bow, handing you his bag.

“The freshest of the season!” the other adds cheerily, offering his own.

You accept the bags graciously, about to hand over your payment, when Sylus raises a hand. “On the house,” he tells you, eyes gleaming with amusement.

You hesitate. “Are you sure?”

“Of course,” he replies, gaze roving over your form with a slight smile. “A holiday gift, if you will.”

You take in how striking he looks beneath the soft glow of the lights, his presence almost ethereal against the lively backdrop.

It’s then you realize you only have one life to live. Life is too short for regrets, and you miss 100% of the shots you don’t take. That fortune favors the bold, and that you either go big or you go home.

And so, with a deep inhale to steel your nerves, you seize the moment.

“Sylus, would you like to go get ice cream with me?”

The men behind him perk up. Deeper within the stall, a bound man sits trembling, a gun fitted with a silencer pressed against his temple. He’s being hushed, and the air grows thick with suspense as everyone waits with bated breath for the silver-haired man’s response.

After what seems like eternity, Sylus chuckles, flicking your forehead gently.

“I’d be more than happy to.”

—

You’ve barely spent an hour together, but already, you’ve learned so much about him.

He’s surprisingly chivalrous. You hadn’t expected it, but when you pulled out your wallet to pay for both your ice cream cups, he leaned over, gently swatted your hand away, and handed his card to the cashier.

You looked up at him in protest. “But I was the one who offered to get you ice cream…!”

He merely ruffled your hair, amused, as if you were an unruly feline meowing its head off for not getting the fish on the dinner table.

“I’m not letting you pay. End of discussion.”

Determined to make up for your honor, you dragged him to a weathered claw machine not far from the ice cream stand.

“Fine. But I’m getting you that one,” you declared, pointing at a black-and-red dragon plushie nestled among the other prizes. “You’re not allowed to refuse, okay?”

After a brief scuffle over who got to insert the coin (you lost), you managed to snag the plush on your first try. Triumphantly, you handed it to him, watching as he turned it over in his hands, his fingers gently fiddling with its tiny wings. Your gloating expression faded, though, at the sight of his faint smile, the image strangely sending a dull ache through your chest.

And despite his intimidating appearance, he’s remarkably generous.

When the two of you stepped outside the bustling shopping district for a breather, ice cream cups in hand, a gaggle of children in Frostlight-themed costumes approached. Tambourines and melodicas in hand, they eagerly asked if they could perform for you. Their chaperone stood nearby, wincing apologetically at their loud enthusiasm.

“Do your best,” Sylus told them, leaning against the building wall behind him, eyes gleaming in amusement.

The children hastily formed a crooked pyramid, the instrumentalists awkwardly positioned at the back, before launching into the most gloriously off-key performance you’d ever heard. You struggled to suppress your laughter, covering your mouth with your hand, but Sylus regarded them seriously, his head nodding slightly, as if genuinely finding rhythm in their chaotic melody.

When they finished with a burst of giggles, Sylus clapped slowly, laughter dancing in his gaze, before handing over a generous wad of cash. You’ve never heard so many high-pitched “You’re the best, mister!”s all at once.

You’ve been having so much fun—exploring the bustling stalls, petting the pups you come across, checking in on his hardworking fruit stall employees (and happily handing them some of the banana chips you bought), and watching the small fireworks display in the shopping district's adjacent plaza—that you don’t realize how late it’s gotten. Before you know it, you’ve arrived at your house, the neighborhood now quiet and serene, the hum of the city replaced by an almost peaceful stillness.

At your doorstep, you turn to see Sylus leaning casually against his sleek black SUV, his gaze fixed on you. A thought strikes you, and your eyes widen.

“Wait!” you blurt, fumbling for your key. “We never got around to returning each other’s stuff. Let me grab your coat!”

Before you can act, tendrils of black-and-red mist creep along the ground, curling around your feet. Bewildered, you stare at it as it coils upward, encircling you. “What…?”

Despite the way it looks, it feels soft and warm against your skin. Gently, it curls around your wrist, pausing your search for your key, and lifts your chin, guiding your gaze back to him.

“Return it next time,” Sylus tells you, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“But won’t you need it?” you ask, distracted by the way the mist dances around you, one tendril brushing your side playfully. You let out a surprised laugh. “Is this your Evol…?”

The mist retreats slowly, as if reluctant to leave. It curls around his feet one last time before dissipating entirely.

“I don’t have your sweater yet,” he says, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “It’d be rude to accept the coat before then.”

“But—”

“Think of it as my excuse to see you again.”

Your words catch in your throat as heat rises to your cheeks.

To appease you, though, he offers to exchange numbers so you can work out the details of your sweater and coat handover. If he notices the way your hands tremble when his fingers brush yours while swapping phones, he doesn’t mention it—though the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth doesn’t go unnoticed. With a reluctant wave and a final goodnight, you step inside and close the door behind you.

You lean against it for a moment.

Then, you bolt to your room, dive onto the bed, and scream into your pillow.

When you finally roll onto your back, breathless and grinning like an idiot, the ceiling above you seems brighter, the world lighter. It’s been so long since you’ve felt this way—like you’re floating, bursting with happiness.

You like him. You really, really like him.

As thoughts of brightly colored ice cream scoops and cuddly dragon plushies swirl in your mind, the weight of the day’s events finally begins to settle over you. You briefly resist, realizing you haven’t even changed out of your clothes or undergone your nightly routine yet, but in the end, you surrender to the comforting pull of slumber.

Just as you drift off, your phone screen glows faintly from your bag.

Good night kitten.

note: tysm for taking time to share your thoughts about the series 🥺 reading through them truly makes me so happy! it's so surreal to know that there are people out there actually looking forward to updates lol!! happy holidays, everyone! 💞

nav: one, two, three, four, five (current), six or: read on ao3

tag list: @thepotatoislost, @xxfaithlynxx, @browneyedgirl22, @vorfreudevortex, @midiplier, @wisteriaflowersss, @euclase0, @leighsartworks216, @keyiswatching, @goldenbirdiee, @delaythings, @datura109, @iloveboysinred, @everythingistaken00, @moonlight-inthe-sea, @blueberrysquire, @mourning-into-dancing, @bookfreakk, @everywherenothere, @vvhira, @laidenbreecatchall, @kyushii, @lucifer-says-hii, @sylus-crow, @carmelves, @nishayuro

check out my other works!

[baseball-dokyeom]

Christmas Cookies

Pairing: Mingyu x fem!reader

Word Count: 725

Genre: Fluff, romance

Content: Christmas, engagement, proposals

A/N: Sorry this took so long to get out, i hope you all enjoy it! Happy Holidays!

*̣̥☆·͙̥‧❄•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥‧̩̥·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥˟͙☃˟͙‧̩̥·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥❄‧·͙̥̣☆*̣̥ *̣̥☆·͙̥‧❄•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥‧̩̥·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥˟͙☃️

“Okay!” You murmur, looking at everything laid out on the table before you. Cookies that were cooling, a rainbow of different colored frostings, sprinkles, and tubes to make finer details. “Mingyu! Come out to the kitchen!”

Your boyfriend of 3 years, Mingyu, walks out, wearing a hoodie and sweatpants. “What’s up?”

“Oh no no no, this is not what we agreed on!” You say, motioning to the ugly christmas sweater that you’re wearing.

Mingyu whines, a pout on his lips. “But it’s ugly!”

“That’s the point! And what’s christmas without ugly sweaters?” You laugh. “Now go put it on pleeeeeease? You promised!” You pout.

“You’re lucky I love you,” He murmurs. He goes to change, making you squeal as he comes out. Your matching sweaters are green, with his saying, “I come in peace” and yours saying, “peace”. You knew that you had to make it at least a little funny if it was going to be ugly and cringey.

“Thank you,” You smile, kissing his cheek. “And i do love when you come in peace,” you wink.

His cheeks turn red and he murmurs, “Shut up,”

You smile and take his hand, leading him to the table. “Okay, they should be fine to decorate by now.”

There’s different shapes laid out: ornaments, stockings, presents, trees, and snowmen.

“Let’s start, yeah?” You smile, putting on your christmas playlist.

You and Mingyu start decorating cookies, making all variations of cute ornaments, pretty christmas trees, and silly snowmen. You don’t even notice that he’s taken one of the circular ornament cookies and is decorating it at an angle where you can’t see it. He occasionally works on it when you aren’t looking,

“Baby hand me that tree cookie, please?” You ask.

“Y-yeah! of course,” He says. His voice is trembling slightly, but you don’t notice it. He hands you the undecorated cookie, and turns back to his own, as you happily sing and decorate.

“Baby,”

“Hm?”

You take some frosting and put it on his nose, all the while a huge smile is on your face.

“You dork,” He smiles, taking some frosting on his finger and making a heart with it on your cheek.

You giggle and return to decorating the cookies, never bothering to wipe his art off your cheek.

“And…i think that’s all of them!” You smile, putting your hands on your hips.

“Actually…there’s one more,” He says softly.

“What do you mean?”

He pushes an ornament shaped cookie towards you. Frosted onto the cookie was a small diamond ring. “Baby…? What…” You look to Mingyu, confusion on your face.

He smiles, taking your hand and leading you under the mistletoe. He fishes for something in his pocket, a small box, before getting down on one knee, never letting go of your hand.

“Y/N,” He says softly, looking into your eyes with pure love and adoration. You feel your heart start to race and tears well in your eyes as he speaks. “We’ve been together 3 years now, and it’s been the best 3 years of my life, and now I can’t even a single second of my life without you. I said I didn’t want anything for Christmas this year, but there is really only one thing I want.” He opens the small box, revealing a beautiful engagement ring, the exact one you had sent to him months ago on instagram, telling him that was your dream ring. He takes a deep breath, looking up at your now tear stained face.

“Y/N Y/L/N, will you marry me?” He asks softly, a hopeful smile on his face, as he rubs his thumb on your knuckles.

“Yes!” You say, voice barely audible as you hold back tears. You nod furiously, as a smile breaks out on his face, and he stands up, cupping your cheek and pulling you into a kiss. After you pull away, he slides the ring onto your left hand, your ring finger.

You look back at the cookie he decorated, smiling as you take a picture of your new engagement ring next to the cookie. “Christmas cookies for a christmas proposal,” You smile.

“I know, I’m a genius.” He smiles.

You chuckle, shaking your head. “I love you, Mingyu,”

“I love you, too. Merry Christmas, Y/N.” He smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Merry Christmas.”

Tags: @daisymbin @gyubakeries @al-e67is @bloopmeplz @quinyunnie07 @yoouuuhooo @magicx1d @nishimura2210 @pinkchromacosmos @ibxxmc-blog @veeehsstuff @thewormofyourdreams @judesvirtual @bettyandveronic @aboutmariee @queen-of-knowhere @channieschubbycake @kidlarsen @jeonjaemark @hehehehehehes-world @cxffecoupx @mnjrosn @mansaaay @reiofsuns2001 @snowieangel @k4tsey3 @akeminy @hobiiimingyu @unlikelysublimekryptonite @katerina00sstuff @strwbrryktten @weirdomcfreak @brunette-babe @geijijucas @saturnblu @mingi24 @doggosandborks @fairyystar @sapphire2110 @snapsandchats @petit-croissant @hchiis @rociotaborda @lela249

[paladin--strait]

hi queennnn , can

you do prompt 16 with luke hughes thanks !

( happy holidays !:)

electric - luke hughes ❄️

-

as the snow falls on the cold december night, luke and i decorate the inside of the apartment, covering it in twinkling lights, bright garlands, with a huge tree to top it all off. putting decorative pillows on luke's dark blue couch and festive blankets of red and green in the basket beside it.

luke knows how good my decorating skills are, so he invited me over to help him. he wants to surprise jack and his teammates when the come over for luke's holiday party the next day since the devils have a few days off from games and practice. jack was off at dawson's apartment for the night and won't be back until the next evening for the party.

the christmas music rang out loudly through the living room, dining room, and kitchen. with luke and i singing along happily, i'm surprised we haven't gotten a noise complaint. i smile and laugh as luke dances around with a holographic garland wrapped around his neck, singing along to the music with a certain sass the makes me double over in laughter.

i give my knee a little slap, watching as luke laughs along with me and takes off the garland from around his neck, placing around the bottom of the tv on the entertainment center. he adjusts the placement a few times until it's perfect, smiling once he's done. "is this good?" he asks, looking over at me for approval.

"yeah, i love it! i was gonna put the green one there but i think i like that one better." i say, stepping back to look at it from a distance. "now, what color garland for the tree?" i ask, stepping back and looking into the box, pulling out various colored garlands, some with little foil lights or snowflakes, even some snowmen here and there.

luke walks over to me and presses a finger to his bottom lip, "hmm..." he inspects the different garlands, looking around the room to see which one will match the current decor more, i assume. "i think the iridescent one will work well." he smiles, holding it up.

i look at it, smiling. "definitely! will you help me put it on?" i ask, walking over to the undecorated tree. luke nods and walks over to me, a long strand of the iridescent garland in his hand.

we carefully drape it on the fake needles of the tree, passing it from one side to the other once as we wrap it around. once we finished placing it on, we got started on the ornaments. luke and i both prefer a more traditional style tree, filled with bright and colorful lights, hand painted ornaments, and ornaments that symbolize different occasions like moving in, becoming friends, and so many more.

luke and i always save one ornament for last, the bright red and glittering ball that has all the members of the hughes family's handwritten signature, along with mine. the hughes family practically took me in when i moved to michigan at 18, my college scholarship causing me to move further away from my own family.

i met luke when we took a class together and we were sat beside each other. we started talking and have eventually grown to be the best friends we are now, even though our bond has been tested with rumors and lies from other people and even sometimes ourselves, our friendship has lasted and only grown stronger.

ellen and jim took me in like their own child when luke brought me to his house one day to work on a project for class. they practically made me stay for dinner and i felt at home almost instantly from their kindness and happy family dynamics. i've been a part of their family ever since that night and i could never be more grateful.

i smile as we place the final ornament on the tree together, front and center. although, i can't help but feel a slight heat creeping up my cheeks when our fingers brush against each other. once we finish placing the ornament, we step back and look at the tree. luke wraps an arm around my shoulder, pulling me in this side with a smile.

i place my head on his chest, smiling wide. "it looks great luke...way batter than last year's disaster of a tree." i say, laughing.

last year, we had jack and trevor helping us decorate the tree. as soon as the two guys decided they were going to put on the garland, luke and i immediately regretted it. the tree was messy and a little funny looking. it was also leaning on one side since they decided to hang all the heavy ornaments on one side of the tree. it wasn't perfect, but it was still pretty and a little nostalgic.

luke laughs, "yeah...that was just bad." he lets go of my shoulder, "who puts on the star this year? trevor practically begged to do it last year so i don't remember who's turn it is."

"you can do it, it doesn't matter to me." i say, pulling out my phone to take a photo as he climbs on the step stool and begins to place the glowing star on top of the tree. "smile!"

luke holds the star in place as he turns to smile at the camera, laughing a little. i snap a few pictures, "okay, you're good!" he comes down from the ladder after making sure the star is perfectly placed, then walks over to look at the photos.

we swipe through some from earlier and then the ones with the star, we both smile at them, until we get to the really goofy photo i got of luke as he was actively putting the star on the tree. his face is contorted into a look of confusion and almost frustration from not being able to get the star to stay in place.

luke's mouth drops open in shock as he laughs. "delete that right now!" he says, trying to take the phone from me. i mange to fight him off, laughing along with him.

"your parents are gonna love that one!" i laugh, zooming in on his face and laughing a little harder. "i'll send it to her later."

we finish up the decorations and i grab my purse. "well, it's late. i'll see you tomorrow before the party?" i ask, looking down at my phone. i wrap my hoodie around me tighter, putting my hands in the pockets.

"yeah, i'll walk you out." luke says, grabbing his jacket and phone, along with his apartment keys. "don't need you getting snatched up by some creep tonight." he jokes with a little laugh.

"thanks!" i smile, walking out of his apartment and down the hall with him. we ride in the elevator in a comfortable silence the whole way down, walking out of the front doors to the apartment building parking lot.

"damn, it's cold out here." luke says, wrapping his jacket further around his body with a shiver as he looks around at the snow.

i pull my hood up, not really wanting to deal with the wet snow in my hair tonight. i look over at luke as we walk to my car. "yeah...too cold."

i unlock my car as we get closer, huffing out a deep breath of air that shows in the air as we walk. luke looks over at me as well, smiling. "you know...i'm a little worried about you driving in all this snow." he says, suddenly looking a little nervous as he opens my car door for me.

"i drive in snow all the time, it'll be alright." i smile at him, trying to reassure him that i'll be alright.

"but this is different. it's heavier and deeper, your tires aren't made for snow like this." his face drops into a more serious look, his eyes boring into mine.

"luke, i promise i'll be okay." my face softens as i reach out a hand to grab his.

"no, just stay with me for the night. i can take you home tomorrow morning to get ready for the party and bring you back." he says, the grip he has on my hand tightening.

"are you sure? i don't want to be a bother." i frown.

"i'm so sure." luke says, taking a step towards me as he looks down and into my eyes. there's something different in his gaze this time, it's almost like love.

"luke..." i look up at him, my gaze softening.

"shut up." he places his hands on my cheeks, leaning down until his lips are almost touching mine. "is this okay?" his almost whispers to me.

i can't find the words to speak, but my head nods yes. he leans in immediately, his lips meeting mine in a hesitant but electric kiss. the world around me slows, the snow falling on our cold bodies as he pulls me closer to him, the kiss deepening. my stomach flutters with attraction and adoration, my head spinning.

after our kiss ends, he pulls me impossibly closer, holding me tight. "stay." he says gently, pulling away to look at me. "i want you stay with me tonight."

i nod slowly, feeling his hand come up to cup my cheek once more. "okay..." i smile softly, leaning into his warm touch. "i'll stay."

his face turns into a smile, wide and full of happiness. "i didn't know...how to tell you. so i thought i would just show you." he gently rubs my hip with his thumb.

"luke, it's alright. i like you too..." i laugh a little, placing my hand over his. "i was afraid that it would ruin what we have..."

"no. nothing could ruin what we have, sweetheart." the nickname making my cheeks heat pink, my heart melting with love. "nobody and nothing could ruin us."

"oh luke..." i say, pulling him back down to me for another kiss. our lips crash together, the feeling making my knees almost buckle. his hands reach up to grab my waist, holding me up and in his arms comfortably.

everything is so clear now. the nervous glances, the way we both blush when we accidentally touch hands, the way we care for each other more than anyone else. it's all so natural and beautiful, our love for each other will only grow stronger and stronger as we go on.

luke and i walk back to his apartment hand in hand, smiling wide with happiness and newfound love for each other that definitely doesn't go unnoticed by our friends and family at the annual holiday party the next day.

[gaiathemexicanbeauty]

your latest mike fic actually has me squealing stop. can you please write something cute about him for the festive season? i don’t mind how long it is, i just wanna cuddle into his itchy christmas sweater and eat gingerbread and drink hot chocolate and watch love actually (despite him insisting he’ll hate it)

mr. grinch | mike schmidt x reader

word count: 904

warnings: none! this is just some nice little christmas fluff for the holidays! thanksgivingdoesnotexisttomeok

all of you are keeping me so well fed, any time i see a mike request, i have to take a second to get excited

he is probably such a grinch, he is so dear to me

I LOOOVE writing christmas stuff, i hope that this did the holiday justice

mike sighs tiredly when he finally enters his house, about to announce his arrival before stopping in his tracks. he closes the door behind him as he knocks some of the snow off of his shoes, eyeing the rest of the house with an almost comedic sort of suspicion: he swore the house hadn't been this festive when he left.

his once dull looking living room was littered with boxes, ropes of garland and tinsel peeking out of some them. the most noticeable thing, however, is the obvious christmas tree in the corner of the room that remains undecorated. the kitchen seems to be the most decorated for now, a quaint centerpiece in the middle of the table and some christmas lights hanging on one end of the room. mike looks up when he hears footsteps from down the hall, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise at the sweaters he sees on you and abby who is following behind you. your sweater is decorated with all kinds of red, white, and green patterns, a cat poking its head out of a stocking on the front of it. abby's sweater is less in your face, a deep blue with various colored christmas lights decorated onto it.

"you're back! how was work?" you say with a sweet smile, putting down the box in your arms to pull mike into an embrace that he gladly accepts. "same as always, boring. did you do..?" mike says with a smile, raising an eyebrow as he gestures to the rest of the house. "WE decorated the house." "oh, yeah?" mike says with another smile, letting abby take his hand and lead him over to the living room. "we wanted to do the christmas tree with you. i'm gonna put my ornament from school, you put on your sweater." abby says, not missing a beat as she hands mike a sweater hanging off the couch and running back to her room. you give mike a knowing smile as you lean against the couch, watching him unfold the sweater: the colors are the same as yours but have a cartoonishly decorated christmas tree on it. almost immediately, he lets out a laugh of disbelief. "no way."

"oh my god, where's your christmas spirit?" you giggle as mike shakes his head, already trying to abandon the sweater that you're trying to put back in his hands. "you and abby have enough christmas for the three of us, thank you very much." he says as you hold the sweater up against him, scrunching your nose at him playfully. the two of you have a moment of silence, looking at each other expectantly to see who will break first: you, of course, have no shame at all. "pleeease? for abby? and totally not for my own enjoyment?" you say as you bat your eyelashes at mike, folding the jacket over your arm so that you can cup his face in your hands. his eyes remain focused on yours and seemingly uninterested despite the smile tugging at his lips, your hands squeezing and pinching his cheeks in an effort to further crumble his resolve. "for me?" mike looks over at abby standing in the hallway with a sheepish smile, giving her a look that says 'really?'. when the two of you nod at him with fake-innocent looks, he lets out a sigh before giving a defeated yet amused "fine."

and with that defeat, mike is wrapped up in christmas festivities for the rest of the night. abby insists on everything there is despite how little time it takes for her to get tired; it's only 10:00 pm by the time you and mike are sitting on the couch, your legs hung over his lap and his hand rubbing slow circles into your back. quiet christmas music plays in the background, your cheek rested against his shoulder as you bring your mug of hot chocolate to your lips. "tree turn out alright for you?" mike mumbles softly as he looks over at the now decorated tree, making you smile warmly as you nod. "yeah. it's perfect. abby's ornament really ties the whole thing together." you say with a soft laugh, looking over at the small angel that was nearly in the center of the tree. "thank you, by the way. for all this, i mean. we don't do this all the time." you smile up at mike when he looks at you, his hand moving from your back to your hair, brushing it away from your face as your cheeks redden.

you press your forehead against his, feeling your heart start to soar in your chest: before you can get closer, you gasp softly as a thought comes to your mind. "wait!" mike watches you scramble away to the kitchen for a moment before you come back with something cupped in your hand: as soon as he sees the mistletoe, mike can't help the laugh that leaves him. "hey, don't laugh! not only are you going to wake up abby but you're also not embracing the spirit of christmas." you say with a fake tone of pride, making mike roll his eyes. "so you're saying that christmas is-" before mike can even finish his thought, you close the gap between the two of you with a giggle against his lips, knocking the two of you backwards on the couch as a grunt of surprise leaves mike.

I WAS SOOOO GIGGLY WRITING ALL THIS, thank you anon for requesting this right after laufy dropped several christmas songs

I HOPE THAT TO ANON, THAT YOU ENJOYED THIS AND THAT IT MADE YOU GIGGLE AS MUCH AS THE LAST ONE I WROTE

i hope to everyone reading this that you all also enjoyed this and are having a good rest of your day/night/afternoon! :3

[the-nosy-neighbor]

Still processing. It took me a bit to get into the alt site. Fortunately, you guys are smarter than me.

But my big discovery for today (after the break)

So, i didn’t upload the image overlay that i made, but the single pea on a plate that has got everyone thinking reminded me of a clock kinda and especially the second placement of his finger (as a puppet) was very obviously pointing.

At first, i was thinking time, and this is cleverly short hand and long hand, so i would guess 4:15. But then my partner said the neighborhood has always reminded me of a clock, so I put the plates as transparent layers and the thumb lands right on the post office and the finger goes right to home.

Also, these are the only two undecorated houses. Also also...

And that isn't even getting into a lot of the imagery and things that are included.

Eddie isn't wearing a watch

Eddie feels trapped

Eddie gets angry for being left out

Eddie thinks delivering mail is a way of earning recognition, and that is somehow important to him.

Frank calls him Mr. Dear, and then when they are alone, he whispers Eddie (which Eddie doesn't respond to) which hints at a deeper relationship than at least Frank wants others ro know about.

Sorry for the low quality. However, in both of these images, there is the idea of Eddie being small. Sally is gesturing here, but the perspective has to be for a reason. In the other image, his chair is sitting on this board amongst kit items, and he is super small.

There was an allusion to him not being able to lift Sally to the top of the tree as well.

I have to think about sally as a treetopper, starstopper, and perhaps some kind of panopticon.

Also, when eddie started freaking out in that chair, i was very much reminded of the butterfly art with eddie. The eye shading is so similar.

[enkas-illusion]

Under The Mistletoe

Fandom / Pairing: Attack On Titan / Eren x f!reader

Rating: SFW / Fluff

Genre/Theme: Friends to lovers; non-titan au

Content warning: fluff, teasing, language.

Summary: A series of unfortunate events that lead up to a memorable Christmas Eve at the Jaegers’ house with your close friends.

Author's Note: Hello, here’s a short fluffy friend to lovers one-shot with my fav 2D man. Merry Christmas! Thank you for reading <3

~ Eren’s Birdie

Song Dedication: Mistletoe by Justin Bieber

“Yo, you home?” you speak into your phone’s speaker without waiting for a greeting from his end.

“Yes…?” Eren answers.

“Busy?”

“Nope.”

“K. Come to my place.”

“Cool,” he cuts the call. You place your phone on the sofa before moving the mess, that would soon transform into your Christmas decorations, out of the way. As you clear the floor of all the stray pieces and tiny ornaments, you place the tiny chair near the tall tree in your living room while waiting for your best friend’s arrival.

You hear the doorbell ring about 15 minutes later and rush to open it. You greet Eren with a wide grin as you move to the side to let him in. He takes off his shoes near the door as he enters the living room.

“So, what do you need me for, madam?” He asks as he takes off his mufflers and scarf, tossing them on the sofa.

“Ouch… do you think so little of me to assume I only call you over when I need something from you?” you fake gasp.

“If you have to ask, you already know the answer dummy,” he pinches your nose before walking to the undecorated tree, deciphering the reason you’d called him over. “For this? You’re far better than I am at this arts and crafts shit.”

“Well, I cannot reach the top even with the tallest chair I own… call it the perks of being the taller friend, I’ll always think of you for such things,” you smile at him before blowing him a dramatic kiss.

“Sure,” he rolls his eyes as you lean down to the tree to start with the bottom half of the decorations. Eren sits next to you, playing with one of the tiny red stockings he picks up, “A friend in need is a friend indeed.”

“A best friend who makes cinnamon rolls cause she knows how much you love them is a friend indeed,” you try to imitate his voice, resulting in a terrible imitation.

His ears perk up at your comment nonetheless, completely ignoring the teasing tone and only focusing on what really matters.

“Did you really?!” he asks, excited like a puppy when he hears someone say ‘treat’. 

“Yes… There's still about 10 minutes left though. It’s in the oven,” you say as you point to the tree, “So you should probably hurry up.” 

“What a meanie!” he huffs as he fiddles with the ornaments, decorating them on the tree. You laugh as you begin working on the other side at a quicker pace than he does.

A few moments pass by before you hear his voice again, “This tree is so unnecessarily tall… You know, mum said you could just come to our house to celebrate the holidays when I told her you couldn’t go home because of work.”

“That’s so sweet of her… but I still wanted my apartment to look like it’s the holiday season. If I can’t go home this year, the least I can do is recreate some of the warmth and Christmas feels here.”

“Awww, is that why you called me? Cause I’m the star that lights up your whole world?” he says as he holds the golden ornament over his head.

“Not sure about my world but definitely my Christmas tree,” you tease as you check the time. You get up to walk to the kitchen as Eren fixes the chair closer to the tree.

“Only tolerating your bullshit for the rolls by the way…” you hear him complain behind you. You put the oven mitt on as you pull out the batch of fresh cinnamon rolls. You carefully place the pan on the counter, evenly pouring the sugar syrup over the buns.

Your body jerks involuntarily when you hear a loud shriek from the living room. Your heartbeat picks up pace erratically as you run out the kitchen to see what had happened. You find Eren lying on the floor, his right hand holding his left forearm tightly. He writhes in pain when he tries to move his left wrist.

“Ren, what happened?” you panic as you run to his side as you help him stand up. He doesn’t need to explain however – you see the chair with a broken leg lying next to the tree.

“Ugh– Careful,” he hisses as you try to help him straighten his wrist.

“I’m so sorry, I had no idea the chair would break… does it hurt a lot, I’m so so sorry Eren, if I knew I wouldn’t have asked–” your shaky voice breaks, tears welling up in your eyes.

“I’d rather have me fall from a broken chair than you,” he gives you half a smile but it’s so sincere that it makes you want to cry even more.

“Let me get the first-aid kit,” you sniffle but before you can rush to get the kit, Eren rests his right hand on your shoulder to get your attention.

“Get the car keys instead, I think I’m gonna need a little bit stronger than pain relief spray,” he says calmly. On the inside, he’s freaking out, but he doesn’t let it show since he did not want you to panic even further.

Your expressions distort to the point where it looks like you’re in more agony than the man who just fell from a chair. You nod frantically as you go to grab your keys before hurrying out the door to get him to a hospital.

~~~

“Sign it,” he says as he sees you walking into the hospital room where the nurse is fixing a cast around his forearm and wrist, “after all, the artist needs to sign their artwork.”

Eren shows little to no signs of discomfort and you wonder if he’s a psychopath or it’s simply the painkillers working. You open the water bottle before handing it to him as you give another apologetic look – the hundredth one in the last hour since the accident.

“I’m kidding! I’m all good!” He reassures you as he raises the arm up once the nurse is done fixing the cast.

“It’s better to rest for at least 6 weeks if you want to heal properly,” the nurse interjects plainly.

“That long? It’s just a hairline fracture right?” he asks her, confused.

“You still need proper rest Eren!” you scold him as you take his phone, the bag of medicines and water bottle in your hands, not wanting him to carry anything at all.

“I’m fine! This is nothing!” he chuckles, cupping your cheek with his free hand to reassure you. You bring your hand up to his, pulling it away before intertwining your fingers with his.

“Is that all?” you ask the nurse with concern and she nods. “Thank you,” you sigh as you lead Eren out the room.

“The bill?” he asks as you walk out the hallway.

“Paid it already,” you reply.

“I’ll pay you back later, yeah?”  he says as you get to the car.

“No, don’t. It’s my fault...” you murmur timidly as you drop his hand to open the door for him.

“Hey… it’s not. I love how much you care about me but please don’t worry so much,” he speaks, holding your hand once again, squeezing it gently.

“But I feel so bad,” you pout as you move your fingers lightly over his cast with your other hand before looking up at him with sadness in your eyes.

He headbutts you playfully, causing you to finally laugh as he says softly, “Give me all the cinnamon rolls and we’ll call it even.”

~~~

Eren wasn’t kidding about the cinnamon rolls – especially now that he had the golden ticket to get you to make as many as he wanted. Usually, you’d only make it occasionally or if he was upset with you after some silly argument and you wanted to suggest a truce temporarily.

So when you arrive at his place in the afternoon, with a container that doesn’t have any cinnamon rolls, 3 days later on Christmas eve, he acts like a bratty child who had been denied his favourite treat.

“Eren! This soup’s better for you. I’m not gonna let you binge on another whole batch of cinnamon rolls!” you speak sternly. 

“I don’t recall asking for healthy shit. My mood’s craving cinnamon rolls!” Eren slaps his right hand on the table exaggeratedly.

“I cannot believe how childish you’re being. Where’s your mum? She’ll support me…” you shake your head.

“Carla’s out shopping for presents. I’m afraid you’re going to have to deal with him on your own,” you hear a voice and turn your head to look at Eren’s father entering the house.

The crease on your forehead that had formed while talking to Eren melts away when you greet his father, “Mr. Jaeger, good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon. Is my son bothering you too much?” he asks and you see Eren turn red out of embarrassment.

“Not at all,” you chuckle, “There’s no tantrum of his that I can’t handle.”

“Good. I assume you’re staying for dinner, yes?” Grisha asks politely.

“Yes. So are Mikasa and Armin, they might arrive anytime soon,” you reply, the polite smile fixed on your face. 

“Great!” He nods before turning to scold his son, “Eren, don’t trouble the poor girl.” 

Eren shakes his head before his father excuses himself to get to his room, leaving the two of you alone again.

“Poor girl? You’re so creepily formal with my parents. They think you’re the model child and I'm the one who corrupts you… even after all these years!” he snorts.

“Well… I am innocent,” you bat your eyelashes at him, “You’re the devil here.”

He rolls his eyes at you before leaning forward and opening his mouth, motioning you to feed him the soup.

“Your right hand’s fine! Drink it yourself.”

“This is the least you can do,” he says with puppy eyes, waving his cast up in front of your face.

“Ugh… fineee,” you take the spoon, blowing on the hot soup gently before feeding it to him.

When Armin and Mikasa arrive about an hour later, Eren goes into heavy, exaggerated details while telling the two about how he got the injury. 

“... And then this one cried like a baby… more than I did,” he jokes, pointing your way.

“I was actually crying that my favourite chair of all time broke,” you shoot back dryly.

“Lies, you guys know she’s in denial about how much she loves me, right…? Anyway, the doc said it’ll be another 3 months at least before I’m healed completely.”

“What a drama queen, you’ll be fine in a month’s time!” you narrow your eyes at him.

“You guys bicker like an old married couple,” Armin notes and Mikasa nods in agreement. You’re pretty sure he’s teasing you too but he doesn’t follow it up with a laugh as if it's a serious statement, making you blush awkwardly as you try to avoid Eren’s gaze actively. 

Despite Eren constantly teasing you throughout the night, it’s a peaceful celebration nonetheless. When Grisha and Carla retire to their bedroom after wishing your group ‘a jolly Christmas’ shortly after midnight strikes, the four of you gather around in the living room to exchange your secret santa gifts.

When you get a new set of oven mitts, a mini speaker and a perfume you’d been waiting to be restocked since forever with a note that read ‘Couldn’t decide which one was the best option so consider yourself lucky to get a genie like myself’, you jump up to give Eren a big hug while being careful not to bump into his wrist.

“Was it that obvious?’ he laughs.

“We never could’ve figured out the perfume one,” Mikasa giggles. Your eyes meet Eren’s and you feel your heart skip a beat as you eyes stray to his plump lips for a split second – brushing away the very inappropriate thought you just had about your best friend.

You quickly move away as you change the topic and get Mikasa and Armin to open their gifts. It’s obvious they got each other based on the gifts they'd received.

Eren is the last to open his mystery present. You feel nervous, suddenly second-guessing your entire decision. However, it dissolves just as soon as it arrives when you see Eren’s jaw drop at your gift.

“Holy shit! This might as well be the best gift I’ve received in a while,” his eyes gleam at the signed manga copy by his favourite mangaka Hajime Isayama. 

“It better be! Took a lot of eff–” you smack your hand over your mouth mid-sentence at spoiling your own identity as his secret santa.

He smiles softly, hugging you as he teases, “Thanks Sherlock, it would’ve been so hard to figure out who it was!”

“Oh wait a min–,” you look around the sofa to find the other package you’d gotten him. You leave his side to get the tiny gift, handing it to him with a playful grin. He raises an eyebrow at you as he unwraps it. He lets out a chuckle when he pulls out the tiny cinnamon roll crochet plushie and bursts out laughing when he reads your note with it – ‘This should last you a long time, stop asking me for another batch already!’ 

“Never,” he wraps his arms around you, pulling you in tighter as you stumble in place, feeling the vibrations of his torso caused by his laughter. He gives you a quick peck on the top of your ear before letting go, your skin tingling with warmth at the gesture.

“Oh! Before I forget… mum knitted sweaters for all of you guys,” Eren grins proudly. All three of you basically pounce on Eren excitedly when he returns with the sweaters in one hand.

He hands you yours the last and it's your favourite colour. “Told mum to use that specifically,” he confesses, half-whispering so that only you can hear him. 

You bite your lip and lower your head to keep yourself from smiling too hard. It's moments like these that have you feeling as if the platonic line in your friendship gets tangled with the romantic one.

Eren Jaeger could bully you to death, within his rights as your best friend, but then he'll randomly do something so sweet that it makes you awfully aware of the growing crush you have on him.

“Thank you,” you smile when you look up and your eyes meet. Eren believes that this smile could be the only thing to melt him if he were a block of ice. 

At that moment, he wants nothing more than to squeeze your stupid face and kiss you to his heart's content. He feels a pang in his chest – the intense desire of his crush on you fighting against the rational part of his brain not wanting to spoil your friendship.

When you suggest watching a random Christmas movie, everyone cuddles together on the sofa like birds do on a cold morning. You don't remember most of it since you fall asleep halfway through the first movie itself. Since you fell asleep with your head on Eren's lap, he didn't dare move till the morning – he gladly accepted his fate as your pillow. 

Maybe it was something in the air urging him to do something but when he saw the way you peacefully rested on him, he felt an intense need of wanting to protect and cherish you forever. Right there, he made his decision – he was going to confess his feelings to you. His love deserved a fair shot. Besides, he figured he'd simply call it a joke and move on if things didn't go his way.

~~~

Your slumber breaks when you hear soft whispers calling out your name. You feel the shuffling movement of your head being lifted up before being placed back down on a soft surface.

“Hmm?” You speak groggily as you sit up, rubbing your eyes as you sense Eren walking away. You check your phone and it’s just quarter to 5 in the morning. You're about to go back to sleep when you hear his voice again, along with footsteps pacing around from one end of the hallway to the other.

“Come here,” you hear Eren’s voice beckoning you from the passage leading up to his room. You want to go back to sleep but get up despite it when you remember he has a broken wrist and might need your help with something. You quietly tip-top to follow his voice, not wanting to wake up your other two friends who are splayed over the sofa, still deep asleep.

“Hey, what's up?” You speak softly when you look around in the dim light of his room to find him. You turn around when you hear the door close behind you.

“Merry Christmas,” Eren grins, standing just a foot away from you, holding a badly plucked green branch tied with a red ribbon over your heads with his free hand. 

“Merry Christmas– what's that?” you mumble as your eyes fix on his hand to observe it closely. It's a Mistletoe – your eyebrows furrow as you look down to his face, expecting an explanation to be written over it.

You feel your heartbeat picking up its pace against your chest. You know what this means yet you can’t believe it entirely. You don't want to make a fool out of yourself by assuming something only for it to be one of his stupid pranks.

You think he's about to headbutt you like he usually does, but he catches you by surprise when he simply rests his forehead against yours.

“You know what this means?” he breathes as he brings his hand down to hold the mistletoe in the space between your bodies. 

This is it! He's asking you to kiss him!!!

Still wanting to play it safe, despite his blatant hints, you nod your head as you speak, “This means I give you a bone-crushing hug.”

His eyes narrow at you as he pulls back, “No… what a chicken. Kiss me.”

Your heart flutters, yet you try to play it cool and tease him further, “What a baby.”

You wrap your hand around his neck to pull his face down to your level. He obliges and you place two fingers to his chin to turn his face to the side. You lean in to kiss him on his left cheek. 

He lets out a soft chuckle as he imitates you, kissing you on your left cheek in return. You giggle as you give him another peck on his right cheek next, resulting in him repeating you once again.

Then comes the forehead and you have to stand on your toes to do it. He leans down to kiss your forehead, you're pretty sure he was about to joke about it but he doesn’t break the intensity of the moment.

Your heart feels like it's almost about to burst out of your chest when you kiss the tip of his nose, followed by his chin, giggling nervously.

You close your eyes in anticipation, expecting the touch of his lips on the same spots on your face but it never arrives. Instead, your breathing halts abruptly when you feel his lips land on your lips.

You pull back quickly and open your eyes to scan his face for any signs of mischief. Instead you’re met with the softest expression, displaying nothing but a kind adoration for you. He brings your hand up to place it on his cheek, smiling at you, encouraging you to dare. 

Without wasting another second, you cup his face with both your hands as you pull him down for a kiss. He smiles into the kiss and you close your eyes, enjoying the feeling of his soft lips moving against yours.

Your legs feel giddy and your thoughts feel intoxicated by Eren’s sweet caresses. His free hand is wrapped around your waist firmly and even as you kiss him, you’re cautious about his cast, trying not to accidentally touch his left arm.

You pull away from his touch hastily when you hear the doorknob twist. You both stand next to each other, staring at Armin with a half-perplexed and half-embarrassed look on your face.

“I can’t seem to fi– oh,” he stops when he looks at both of your faces, his half-lidded sleepy eyes suddenly alert. Armin has always been a smart guy – which right about now is making you and Eren look like two deers caught in headlights. 

Armin raises his eyebrows, the grin on his face growing wider. “Don’t forget to lock the door,” he mumbles as he simply turns back around before closing the door behind him, leaving you and Eren alone once again.

Eren’s quick to lock the door before turning around to lean against it, signalling you to come closer with the motion of his fingers. You roll your eyes but follow him regardless, wrapping your arms around his neck and resting your face on his chest. 

Your hand moves to his pec, feeling around for his heartbeat before resting it there completely. You close your eyes and you soak into the warmth of his body as your best friend/lover places soft kisses on the top of your head. 

Your heart flutters again, filled with happiness to the brim, making you wish you could trap time in a bottle to seal this moment with you forever.

~fin~

[kanerallels]

ooooh I'd love to read a sabezra/kanera/ghost crew in general christmas fic for "christmas memories"

Oh I had an immense amount of fun with this one! For @all-fandoms-christmas-festival day 5, enjoy the following!

(edit: there is also accompanying art of this by @accidental-spice that can be found here!)

Leaning against the frame of the door, Hera watched the scene in the living room unfold.

Life Day music was playing from a radio that Zeb was fiddling with. Rex and Kallus were playing holochess, while from the kitchen Hera could hear AP-5 haranguing Chopper about something.

At the far side of the room stood a Life Day tree, undecorated. Jacen was bouncing up and down next to it, his face lit up with excitement. Next to him was Sabine, who was supposed to be sorting through ornaments and lights. Instead, she was standing and grinning as she watched Ezra.

Ezra was halfway under the tree, fiddling with the stand and muttering to himself in a tone that clearly indicated that Hera didn’t want to understand what he was saying. As Hera looked on, the tree wobbled perilously to one side. “Wrong way,” Sabine said.

“Feel free to come down here and do this yourself,” Ezra said irritably.

“Oh, no, you’re doing great,” Sabine said, clearly holding back a laugh.

Hera held back one of her own. There was nothing like being with her family during Life Day. Even when there was chaos and annoyance and Force only knew what else, she loved this time of year.

It was all perfect right now, too. Snow covered the prairies of Lothal outside, the right music was playing. It was exactly the way it had been back in the precious few years she’d had with the whole crew, during the war against the Empire.

Anyone would think it was strange that she thought so fondly of such a dangerous time. But Hera treasured those Life Day memories, more than almost any others. Mainly because of who had been with them then.

She loved these Life Days too, though. Watching Jacen experience every tradition with joy and excitement filled her heart to the brim. 

A hand rested on her shoulder, and a familiar voice murmured, “Is Ezra about to take out the wall with that tree?”

Holding back a laugh, Hera glanced at Kanan, who’d just emerged from the kitchen. His dark hair, flecked with gray these days, was pulled back from his face, and he was still wearing the apron Ezra had bought him for his birthday years ago. “Hopefully not,” she told him. “But I wouldn’t bet on anything. It’s turning out to be a very precarious operation.”

“I can hear you!” Ezra called, but there was a laugh in his voice.

Kanan grinned. “Let me give you a hand, kid. Leave it to the professionals.”

“You mean the old people,” Ezra joked as Kanan knelt beside him.

“If I was old, you might respect me more,” Kanan grumbled.

As the two kept bickering good naturedly, Hera took a deep breath and released it, her heart full of joy. The memories of Life Day were good. But they were no replacement for the real thing.

[juno-infernal]

the first christmas after my brother died, my family—with gritted teeth and grim, unspoken determination— went through the motions of tradition. our efforts produced varying degrees of success. we purchased gifts and (mostly) managed to wrap them. we put up a few strands of lights, though only inside the house. we bought a christmas tree and plopped it down in the center of the living room, where it sat entirely undecorated and mostly ignored.

none of us had the willpower to dig through my parents’ garage for the box of decorations, or to see my brother’s toothy grin in cheesy childhood photo ornaments, or to remember the way he’d take charge of the tree-decorating process whenever he was around, cajoling the moodier family members (like myself) into resentful participation and relaying our grandmother’s aesthetic directives with great seriousness and purpose. i looked at that tree and i could see him so clearly, in his battlejacket and stupid light-up reindeer antlers, telling me to turn off the shitty emo mixtape and be part of the family. remembering was like touching a hot stove. it was another unbearable task in a season that had been full to the brim with them.

on christmas eve the year my brother died, we all looked at the bare tree, and at each other’s hollow, exhausted faces, and collectively decided to go to bed early. there was nothing else for it.

it was the first time my then-partner spent the holidays with us. he didn’t know my family very well at all, and he’d never met my older brother. he did his best with my grief, but it was hard. he hadn’t experienced that kind of loss. often he did not know what to do or say, and i did not know what i needed, and it was a painful mess that ensnared us both as we struggled to build a relationship in its shadow.

that night, when everyone else headed to bed, he tracked down a box of scrapbook paper languishing somewhere in the house and set to work. he spent the entire night carefully cutting and folding and affixing, and when the rest of us got up the next day, the tree was strung with dozens and dozens of beautiful origami hearts. my family is not the “crying in front of people” sort, but everyone cried.

5 years later, my mother still has all of those paper hearts in a box in her bedroom (except for a few my sister took home with her, and the one i keep in my wallet) and they make an appearance in the decorations every year.

the heart-maker and i aren’t together anymore or even on speaking terms, but i think i will carry that act of kindness with me forever. now when i reach out to love someone in the deep trenches of new grief, i remember that no words of condolence ever reached me there. but i also remember how it felt to wake up and see all those folded hearts, and my grandparents’ teary-eyed joy, and someone who loved me passed out on the couch, surrounded by bits of paper.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

VERY curious about this holiday special 🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄

Hahaha not technically a holiday special! The very undecorated pine tree emoji will hopefully eventually make sense. (I'm actually a grinch)

60 for monster!Eddie & HOH!Buck:

---

Someone is speaking, eulogizing. But it’s not English or Spanish. Eddie doesn’t understand it. Not even a little, so it’s not even a close language. 

Every time - because the dream repeats itself frequently in the days and weeks following Buck’s coma - the following things happen. Eddie stumbles forwards, towards the open grave. He thinks he’s shouting for Buck the same way he shouted up on that ladder. When he reaches the mouth of the grave, right beside Maddie, he falls to his knees. The eulogizing continues in a foreign language, but everything else just seems to stop. There’s a collective gasp of horror. Maddie looks at Eddie with narrowed, accusatory eyes. 

And even though no one is saying it, Eddie just knows. He knows why everyone is looking at him like he’s monstrous. He reaches his arm, covered in a suit sleeve, behind his body to touch his back. His hand finds only a dark, cool hollow. The edges of which feel like rotting tree bark. 

“I’m sorry,” he says to Maddie when he pulls his hand back. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t mean to-”

“This must be why he’s dead,” Maddie says. “This must be the reason.”

And that’s always where Eddie wakes up, sweating and frantic, pinching at the skin of his back to make sure it’s still real. 

Those dreams last, in decreasing frequency, for two months. 

ii. 

He doesn’t tell anyone, but the reason Eddie calls Marisol after running into her at the hardware store, is because he needs a date to his sister’s wedding. 

That sounds terrible. Maybe it is terrible. But it’s true. 

No one has said he needs a date to Adriana’s wedding, but that doesn’t mean it hasn’t been made clear. For one thing, she is his youngest sister. He quite literally changed her diapers. Probably more of hers than Christopher’s. Never mind the fact that she’s only twenty-two, and really fucking young to be getting married - take him for example - everyone will see him arriving single as a sort of pitiable thing. Poor Eddie. Still alone. Or, what’s wrong with Eddie, that he’s still alone? Pepa has been pressuring him. His parents always mention that they don’t understand why he ended things with Ana. They think Christopher needs a proper mother figure in his life. Abuela even likes to tap his cheek and tell him there’s someone out there for him. It’s incessant. 

So, does he want a new relationship right now? Not entirely. No. But does he think bringing Marisol - kind, bubbly, successful Marisol - to the wedding will make his overall experience a hell of a lot better? Yes. Yes, he does. Besides, it’s not like he doesn’t like her. She’s nice. She’s funny. She’s cute. This is fine. This could be good. 

At the very least, it won’t be bad. And no one will look at him like there’s something deeply wrong with him. 

Besides, Buck has started seeing Natalia. The death doula. Who is beautiful and funny and who he likes a lot. This isn’t technically a reason to get a girlfriend, except that, well… Eddie hates being a third wheel. 

It’s a little weird asking her, he will admit. After less than three months of seeing each other. It’s too soon, and he knows it. 

[bifuriouswaterbender]

Love's The Thing

Here's my response to the @steddiemicrofic December theme pine with the word length 508. Fic is rated M. Title is from the quote by Pam Brown, "We expect too much at Christmas. ... All that anticipation. Take it easy. Love's the thing. The rest is tinsel."

Steve laughed and swatted Eddie's hands away as they tried to creep up under his sweater. "If you can't keep your hands off me long enough to finish this tree, you are getting nothing to unwrap later."

"That a threat?" Eddie teased, his teeth flashing into view in a quick smile. He did manage to pull his hands back.

"Only if you behave," Steve said. "Otherwise, it's a promise."

"You're hot when you're demanding."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Come on then, pick some ornaments."

Eddie wrinkled his nose. "Most of them are hideous."

"We can smash the worst of them later." Steve paused and added, "That's also a promise."

Wiggling his fingers, Eddie started poking through the glass bulbs and bobbles. "Then time to quest to find a few good ones I shall!"

While Eddie kept himself entertained, Steve decided between the three types of tinsel his mother had purchased over the years. Honestly with as many different generic and ostentatious ornaments as she'd collected, he as shocked he had so few tinsels. Then again, garland was garland. It didn't change that much.

He considered the red because he thought Eddie would like it most, then put it to the side. Steve had a better idea for the red garland. He grabbed the white for their tree instead.

"Rainbow, red, or blue lights?" he called over his shoulder as he started to unwind the ball of tinsel.

"Red!" Eddie called back predictably.

Steve hid a smile as he ducked around the back side of the tree. Eddie was going to love this.

An hour later as he was in the en suite getting ready for bed, Steve called, "You know I still say you should have let me buy a real pine."

"I have allergies!" Eddie protested from the other room. "Nature is not my friend."

"And that's adorable of you."

"Hey! Why do I feel like you're making fun of me?"

Steve finished the tie on his shoulder and looked at himself in the mirror. He didn't blush easily and hadn't since his early teens. He thought now that if he could, he would now.

He hesitated momentarily with his hand on the doorknob, steeling himself for the lame thing he was about to say.

"I believe I promised you an unwrapping?"

Eddie snorted and turned toward him, but his mouth fell open as his eyes landed on Steve. Even from here, Steve could tell his mouth had gone dry. He couldn't help preening.

It had taken some work to get the red tinsel to tie around his thigh and wrap carefully around his torso and under one arm without it drooping down and slipping off. But with nothing under it, he knew the effect was worth it, especially since Steve had gotten hard at just the thought of how Eddie would react, and his boyfriend was certainly making it worth it.

"New Christmas tradition?" Eddie asked with a smirk.

Steve laughed as his boyfriend's arms wrapped around his waist. "Deal. Decorate the tree, then undecorate me."

[waternilly]

No Tricks (George Weasley X OC) - Part 5

Fandom: Harry Potter Ship: George Weasley x OC Word count: 1.9k Warnings: Alcohol, little cursing Ao3 link: here Summary: A tattoo shop opens across from Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, immediately catching the eye of the youngest twin. The intriguing owner, though well-versed in the magical world, doesn’t quite belong to it herself. As they navigate their differences, their mutual curiosity blooms into something deeper. Harry Potter Masterlist

Once again facing the door of Olive Tree Art & Tattoos, George leaned against the wall as he knocked above the window. He had guessed Oli’s silhouette sitting by the desk downstairs, so there was no need to ring the bell. He was proven right when a dark haired figure stood from behind the table to welcome him inside.

She had a kind smile, eyes crinkling as he entered.

“How was your lunch?” she wondered, closing the door behind him.

George sighed but nodded nonetheless: “Good! Most of the family came, so we were pretty crammed, but it was fun.”

Oli motioned vaguely to the couch and lifted her shoulders.

“Can I offer you something?”

“If you have anything to accompany this,” George said as he showed off the wine but did not sit, “it would be lovely.”

Oli reached for the bottle to check its label. A french white. George had never heard the name of the domain before receiving this gift, but at least he knew what a chardonnay was.

“Perhaps some ice cream?” he suggested hesitantly.

Smirking, Oli looked up at him and let go of the bottle.

“I should have some.”

She led the way up the stairs and George followed suit. As they walked, he could not help but steal a glance at her hands, now that he knew what those markings were. He realized the illustrations were buildings, finely etched into her skin, and he longed to hold her hands in his to observe them better.

Taken aback by his own thoughts, George paused as he reached the top floor closely behind Oli. Surely his ears were turning red, weren’t they? He swore he could feel the heat rise up his neck.

Suddenly shy, George stayed by the stairs, uncomfortably looking around. He was in Oli’s bedroom, a double bed pushed against a wall with a nightstand next to it, and a cabinet filled with electronics in front of it. Across the room was a window that offered him a view of his own apartment above Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, accompanied by a small table and a chair. Oli disappeared into a room on the left, which he guessed to be the kitchen, as he remembered seeing her there from across the street. There was another door to the right, behind him, that most likely led to a bathroom or closet.

“Aha!”

Oli emerged from the kitchen triumphantly, holding a tub of vanilla ice cream.

“I found some!”

She quickly glanced at the room, clothes piled on the bed.

“I’m sorry about the mess. Do you wanna go back downstairs?”

Yes.

“No, it’s fine.” Nodding to the small table by the window, George wondered: “Shall we?”

Oli smiled and approved of the suggestion.

“There’s an extra chair in the closet. Can you grab it while I get the glasses?” she asked, pointing to the door behind George.

As she disappeared back into the kitchen, George cursed under his breath. He swallowed and shuffled over to the table, putting the bottle down in a hurry.

The walls were white and largely undecorated, unlike downstairs. Only a few paintings and photographs were spread, representing nature or people. Undoubtedly landscapes and loved ones from back in Belgium.

Opening the closet door, he was grateful to find the chair easily, placed against the back wall behind half a dozen pairs of shoes and some coats.

Crossing the room again, he carefully moved the table and the already laid out chair further from the wall, so as to install the second one in front of it. Just as he sat down, Oli came back holding a small tray on which rested two bowls with spoons stuck in them, and two wine glasses. She carefully put the board down before pulling out a corkscrew from her back pocket.

“Will you do us the honor?” she asked, handing it over to George.

“I’ll try my best.”

As he busied himself with the newly appointed task, Oli emptied the contents of the tray onto the table and discarded it on the cabinet. Still standing, she asked while pointing to a record player: “Do you mind?”

He assured her that it was all the same to him, and she picked out a disc to play on the turntable. By the time she was done, the bottle was open and George filled the bottom of her cup.

As a quiet melody filled the room, Oli sat down to face George.

“Would you like to taste it?” he asked.

Briefly staring at the glass, she answered: “Quite frankly, I don’t know shit about wine.”

George chuckled.

“I don’t know much either,” he admitted, shrugging.

It was her turn to smile.

Picking up the glass, she twirled it under her nose before taking a sip. As she met George’s gaze again, she smacked her lips rapidly.

“Doesn’t taste like vinegar!”

With crinkles around his eyes, George poured her a more generous glass before serving himself. She pushed one of the bowls closer to him and took the other for herself.

A comfortable moment of silence settled between them, only filled by the melody of the record player. Furrowing his brows, George leaned into the sound.

“Something the matter?” Oli asked.

“I think I know that voice,” George explained.

“Oh yeah, you probably do!”

“How so?”

“That’s Pulp.”

“Who?”

Oli chuckled.

“The lead singer is called Jarvis Cocker.”

George’s gaze traveled back and forth between Oli and the turntable.

“Myron Wagtail from The Weird Sisters.”

“Oh!”

That voice was indeed familiar.

“Wait, what did you call him before?”

Oli snickered again.

“Jarvis Cocker.”

“Why would you call him that?”

“Because that’s his name.”

“But his name is Myron Wagtail.”

“Not for Muggles.”

George’s jaw dropped as realization dawned on him.

“Two persona’s?”

Oli nodded with a smile.

“How do you know about that?”

“Dad’s side of the family. I spent a lot of time with my aunt. She was a fan.”

Pointing to records on the cabinet, she added: “Those are hers.”

With the spoon hanging from his lips, George nodded in understanding. He stared out the window at his own apartment to keep himself from looking at her for too long.

“So what’s your story?” she asked.

Scooping another bit of ice cream into his mouth, George raised his eyebrows in question.

“You know… I’m from Ghent, my grandparents are Muggles, I’m a tattoo artist. What about you?”

Swallowing the ice cream, he started: “I’m from Devon, the fifth of seven children, I create pranks with my twin.”

Oli raised her eyebrows.

“And?”

“And I enjoy Muggle music, reading, and petting cats.”

She chuckled.

“That all sounds lovely.”

He scooped up some more ice cream as she sipped from her glass.

“I can’t offer you a cat to pet, but if you ever want to borrow any of those,” she pointed to the records, “you’re welcome to do so.”

He nodded and thanked her.

“I’d take you up on that, but I don’t have a turntable.”

She smiled apologetically.

“I guess you’ll just have to come back in that case.”

George felt his ears heat up.

“How come you know about Muggle music?” she wondered.

He suddenly noticed how soft her voice was, gentle and quiet. There was less showmanship involved than during the inauguration.

“My dad got me an old radio,” he explained as he scraped the bottom of his bowl. “I listen to it while cooking.”

“What channel?”

“Something called Virgin Chilled I believe?” he angled his head.

“I see.”

He hesitated.

“Is that not the right answer?”

Oli laughed as she grabbed her wine glass, bowl now empty and discarded.

“No, no, it’s fine. I don’t listen to the radio a whole lot to be honest.”

“Prefer records?” George asked, nodding towards the cabinet with a playful grin.

“Yes,” she said, “and Spotify for convenience.”

“What now?”

She looked amused.

“An app that allows you to play music on your phone.”

“Phones play music?”

“Smartphones definitely do.”

“What about dumb phones?”

She pondered the questions for a second, chin resting between her thumb and index, trying to hide her smile.

“They could too, but you had to download the music first.”

“You know, you can’t keep making up new words,” George joked.

He was not sure if it was him or the wine speaking, but he did not stop Oli when she refilled his cup and her own.

“What’s not clear?” she asked.

“Well for starters, what’s a download?”

Patiently, she explained the foreign concepts. A part of him could not wait to explain all of those things to his dad. He would be over the moon about all this new knowledge. But then again, perhaps his father should speak directly to Oli. She was doing a wonderful job, not sounding condescending but rather excited at the prospect of sharing these facts with him. He could already picture her and Arthur, deep in conversation over a handful of biscuits and tea, or at the end of the dinner table.

As he listened to her, he did not realize that a smile bloomed onto his face until he was almost beaming. 

Clearing his throat, he forced his gaze towards the street, looking down at the cobblestones. Heat rose up his neck again and he wondered if it was time for him to leave, or if he could blame the wine. He wanted to, but he knew deep down that the wine was not the sole responsible.

“A last one?” Oli asked, holding the almost empty bottle above his glass.

George stole a glance at his wristwatch. How had an entire hour passed? Sure, she had explained downloads, and apps, and smartphones, and maybe 10 other concepts, but still. An hour?

The small hand was reaching 6 and he figured it was time for him to go home to prepare dinner.

“Actually, I better leave.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, I should start cooking.”

“Okay.”

Oli offered him a small smile.

“You can keep the bottle.”

“Thank you.”

“Maybe you can use it for a sauce?” he suggested, trying to keep the conversation going for a little bit longer.

“I’m not that good of a cook.”

“Oh.”

George licked his lips.

“Perhaps I could show you some day?”

Oli smiled and looked down, bashful.

“That would be lovely.” Meeting his gaze, she added: “I’ll bring a bottle then.”

With crinkles around his eyes, George nodded: “Sounds like a plan.”

They sat in silence for a moment, grinning at each other. The record had reached its end many eons ago, but neither of them had bothered switching it out. 

Finally breaking eye contact, George cleared his throat and stood up, followed suit by Oli. He led the way back, as she followed right behind him. A tension formed as they walked down, suddenly unable to exchange a single word.

Standing by the door, their gazes met again at last. George swallowed hard before speaking.

“Thank you for the afternoon.”

“Well thank you for providing the wine.”

He licked his lips.

“Should we do this again?”

“Definitely.”

They exchanged shy smiles.

“Can I count on you for the ice cream?” Oli asked.

“My freezer will always be full.”

A final moment of silence stretched.

“Right…” George whispered as he left.

“Get home safely,” Oli called out from behind him.

Turning around, he continued walking backwards, and took a bow. Oli laughed and shut the door.

George walked into the empty store and quietly closed behind him. Resting his head against the wall, he activated the lock. A sigh escaped his lips and he caught himself beaming once more.

He was in so much trouble.

[mudhamster]

CHWHWN: 22. December - "? ?"

"The trains suck tomorrow. Mom wants me to come today. Besides, it's supposed to snow like hell," Katsuki announced over his cup of coffee, already checking the train schedule on his cell phone. He scratched his chin and frowned, and in the next moment, the sight of a yawning, bed-haired Katsuki was burned into Izuku's memory forever. They sat at the breakfast table, just the two of them on the first day of vacation, and Izuku buttered his last wobbly slice of toast when he casually replied, "I only have a weekend ticket." "Then buy one for today." Izuku blinked at him, "Why?" "To go home?!" Katsuki replied with a look as if Izuku was stupid. Today? With Kacchan? To a completely empty apartment? Unintentionally, he looked at the small Christmas tree in the corner of the room. "I can't go," he said without further ado and then stopped for a moment, "I still have to… buy presents. I'll go… tomorrow. At noon. There'll be a train, don't worry, Kacchan." The toast crumbled under the force of the knife tip and Katsuki raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Uh-huh." He could feel Kacchan's undivided attention on him as he reached for the peanut butter between them. His neck tingled. His mouth suddenly tasted like paper. He was getting warm. "When will you be back?" he finally burst with tension, "Before or after the New Year?" Katsuki immediately reflected the question back to him, "What about you?" "I don't know yet…" "Are you going to the shrine? On New Year's?" "Uh. Um," He usually did. With his mother and their old neighbor, who was too frail to walk up the steps alone. He liked the tradition, but there were certainly more pleasant alternatives than starting his New Year as a crutch for an old woman he barely knew. The only question was which? "Maybe. I don't know yet." With a loud thump, Katsuki slammed his cup down on the table. If it hadn't been empty, the table would be caffeinated now "Why are you acting so weird?" "What do you mean?" "I can't put my finger on it," he mused, obviously annoyed, looking disparagingly at Izuku across the table, "but it annoys the hell out of me."

"Sorry Kacchan," he said honestly, meaning it with every fiber of his being. "Whatever," he mumbled, twirling the empty cup between his fingers and Izuku watched as the image on it changed in the light of the kitchen. Izuku hated lying. And it was even worse to lie to Kacchan while they sat together at the breakfast table, enjoying the most humble but fulfilling simplicity. But since the second Kacchan had told him that he was leaving today, his head had been caught in a too fast roundabout. So much was still open. If Kacchan was leaving today, there were still so many unused notes that it seemed almost impossible to open 24. However, the change in his plan also meant that they were no longer guaranteed to be in the same neighbourhood for Christmas. Sure, he could go home tomorrow and sit on the couch and do everything he usually did with his mom and wait to see if Kacchan got in touch by Christmas. But what if he didn't? He honestly didn't know what would be worse. Getting the rejection while he was sitting at home in an undecorated apartment, or while he was sitting here and at least had the space to distract himself from the disappointment by exercising? "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

His mind was overloaded, that was what was wrong. He desperately tried to bring order to the pitiful remains of his plan.

"What - what, what did you get today?" "You wanna know, huh?" but from the way Kacchan rose from his chair, Izuku knew that he wouldn't get an answer. With both hands on the backrest and an odd look that Izuku couldn't interpret, Kacchan stood behind the chair, "I'll tell you when we go to the shrine …together. Just you and me." On New Year's Day. A week after Christmas. Was he home on New Year's Day? Would he be home at all? Would his mother be home? "…oh…okay," he nodded vaguely. He would make sure that…he…and Kacchan…WHAT? Were going to the shrine together?! Just as he took a breath to express how surprised he was by this offer (hello, him and Kacchan, New Year's tradition, romantic!!), Kacchan beat him to it. "Why the hell aren't you excited?" he snapped at him, grabbing the cup and catching Izuku's perplexed look. They both started talking at the same time. "K-kacchan, I -" "We've never been -" Katsuki was the first to look away, a blush of confusion and disappointment on his face. "I'll be there!“ Izuku said, confused and overwhelmed, “I'm looking forward to it, honestly!" "Just forget it."

Kacchan stomped out of the kitchen and Izuku looked at his toast, in his mind swirling thoughts of the shrine. Of the moment when the bells rang and prayers were said and new horoscopes were drawn. His own from last year was still in the desk drawer at home. It had predicted a great change for him - and he had received it. The idea of going to the shrine with Kacchan was so strange and yet so wonderful that he didn't want to let it fail. He pulled out his phone.

Deku: I know there was no promise in the calendar. But I'll make one anyway: I'll be there for New Year's. I'll pick you up and you pick a shrine. Okay? Kacchan: … fucking fine

They would see each other again this year, regardless of whether Katsuki would ever be able to open 24.

[laffiteslanding]

Ask #19. A “hidden gem” of Disneyland (or the park of your choice)

I love the sheer amount of hidden little details that Disneyland contains, but my favorite at the moment (besides all the fortune tellers) is the Halloween Tree in Frontierland. I was there at the right time to finally see it decorated and it was really such a delight.

The Halloween Tree itself has so many layers of meaning and how Bradbury is tied up in Disney lore, but also how that’s juxtaposed by the seemingly random choice of tree that doesn’t really match the stature of the one in the book and the fact that the book isn’t actually a Disney-related IP at all.

It’s the kind of old school Disney reference where something was brought into the park just because it’s neat, and it’s wild to me that it was only created in 2007 when it feels like something that could have been there much longer.

Also the tree is undecorated most of the year so it’s technically a hidden gem most of the time.

On a completely unrelated note, a hidden gem I recently discovered in Magic Kingdom that I really enjoy is this random sign in Adventureland:

It’s actually super visible on the corner of the bazaar but I’ve never noticed until now that the boats on the sign actually move! Very cool and quirky element that adds a lot to the bazaar area, which honestly could use a few more details like this one.

[browhosthis45]

I actually can’t believe i’m posting this on the holiest of holidays, dear God please forgive me😭🙏 Anywho merry christmas to those who celebrate and I wish you all a happy new year❤️❤️

After your parents kicked you out for messing around with a man a part of a gang that meant you weren’t spending christmas with them.

Of course your heart was hurting a bit being away from your family on one of your favorite holidays for the first time.

Arthur could tell and was hurt there wasn’t much he could do about it. But hell would freeze over before he’d just sit back and let you be upset.

After coming home from visiting the butcher, to grab the meat you needed to prepare dinner, you wanted nothing more than to sit in your room and cry for a bit. The weight of the holiday without your family suffocating you. Of course you had Arthur but that man never cared much for it since he lost his family a long time ago.

Lo and behold there was a christmas tree in your living room, undecorated of course, because who do you think this brute is? Martha Stewart?

Arthur’s just staring at you with a waiting glance expecting you to be excited but his face quickly falls same as the tears from your eyes. “Oh sweetheart i’m so sorry i’ll take it back out right now chop it for firewood or sum’ oh God i’m sorry-.” He rambles trying to quickly appease the situation. “No no Arthur oh my god I love you so much.” You smile with tears in your eyes. “Oh really? I thought you were mad at me darlin’.” he rubbed his neck anxiously. “I can’t believe you did all this for me, oh come here.” You beckon him over with your arms wide open, of course he comes right away. You grab his face and smash your lips onto his.

Let’s just say the stockings weren’t the only thing getting stuffed that night.

Dear Santa i’m sorry please don’t put me on the naughty list😔

[indigo-corvus]

Banana Splits Christmas Headcanons, GO! Spew em’ out! Even if it’s the eve of christmas- but oh well- I’ll reblog your respose with my silly ol’ headcanons in return in the tags.

*CRACKS KNUCKLES* Here we go!

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

- The Splits always decorate the clubhouse a day or two after Thanksgiving (depending on how full they are)

-Fleegle, (naturally) takes the lead in decorating, deciding where and when things should be hung.

-Fleegle and Snorky make sure no corner goes undecorated! There's tinsel and garlands everywhere, bows above every window, etc.

-Snorky loves all of the lights, and will sometimes sleep in the main room of the clubhouse to watch them blink as he drifts off to sleep.

-Bingo on the other hand, loves the decorations, but Hates being the one to put them up. He just likes putting the star up on the tree and then marveling at "all his hard work".

-The caroling begins literally the second the star lights up, and doesn't stop until January.

-It's mostly Snorky, Drooper, and Fleegle that do it All Day Every Day, but if he is in the room, Bingo will often be persuaded to join in. Their harmony is amazing, since they're so used to singing/recording together!

-Fleegle likes to read The Night Before Christmas to everyone on the 24th. He sits in the armchair and they all gather 'round.

-Bingo watches The Nightmare Before Christmas every year, even though Fleegle INSISTS it's a Halloween movie only. This "fight" happens Every Year. (It's more like a silly back and forth)

-Snorky goes Full Baking Mode, and pumps out 2 dozen cookies every other day. (He knows that the gang can't resist his famous snickerdoodles and decorated sugar cookies)

- Sometimes the boys help him out with the cookie decorating and turn it into a party! (It's always a good time with the Splits around!)

-Drooper is always extra careful with his tail this time of year! He doesn't want it to be confused for a garland, or to mess up any of the decorations they worked so hard on.

-Bingo makes The Best eggnog ever! (Family recipe!) It's spiced and creamy, and it's always gone the same day he makes it. (Sometimes he adds a little bit of rum to his nog when nobody's looking!)

-Drooper loves the old school Rankin Bass Christmas specials! His favorite is the Rudolph and he likes the Burl Ives snowman.

-Snorky loves hosting ugly Christmas sweater parties! He makes his own sweater every year. :)

-Fleegle is a very practical gift giver! He will gift something he knows will be useful, that is related to the gang's interests. (Paintbrush sets, cameras, etc)

-Snorky is a sentimental gifter! He will give a picture of everyone hanging out in a really pretty frame, a scrapbook, or something else that has a lot of meaning behind it, with a very heartfelt letter of friendship.

-Bingo is a silly gift giver, and will often get gag gifts followed by an actual gift. Snakes in a fake peanut brittle can with a nice quality sweater, 6 individually wrapped copies of Space Jam with a movie that one of them actually wants to see, one soap that smells like buttered popcorn and one that smells like honey or whatever.

-Drooper is all about the music, and will gift an instrument that the other hasn't tried to play yet. (Hard to do, since they are all fabulous musicians and try new instruments all the time!)

-Snorky and Drooper are the gift wrappers. Fleegle and Bingo are just terrible at it lol. Fleegle over complicates the wrapping, and Bingo is a very messy present wrapper lol.

-Every year they leave out a plate of milk and cookies, and every year, Ogre sneaks out and eats them. The gang always thinks it's Santa.

Happy holidays everyone! Happy Yule, Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, etc!

May your next year be merry and bright!