#also it was on december 23rd so

[knownsome]

Thank youuu!

Caius's first show that he fully produced/put on/organized was "Caius Lennox Presents: Clover Clarke's Christmas Eve Eve Extravaganza!" and was 100% to impress the cool Daughter of Cacophony that was in town. Prior to that he was mostly content just being ~booked and blessed~

Tagging @spookebee @casuallycryptidcider @arc-tu-rus @cynical-tuba and anyone else that wants in!

𝐎𝐂 𝐓𝐀𝐆 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄 : share one fact about your vtm oc and tag people ! tag as many as you want , keeping the thread going . tagging someone more than one time is okay ! ( especially if it’s me haha )

Tevy’s favorite ballet playe are Giselle, La Dame Aux Camélias (Lady of the Camellias, and Camelot! (She’s always the center stage in all of them trust)

tagging: @eternalera @toreadorcaretaker @bluelolblue @born-to-eat-rats @knownsome @zaolat @dispotatorulzz @findingtarshish @ofmalkavians @garygoldenbignaturals @mortifying-macaroni @porcelainseashore and YOU who SEES THIS yes you with the vtm oc i see you…. you cannot hide from me

[cake-emu]

Coronation Street | Carla Connor

Carla Connor: consistently gobby

Bonus:

[catherine-clover]

10000 posts!

[elliot-rambles]

was listening to my nana talk about smth and said under my breath 'what ever' and paused for a moment generic teen phrase unlocked I guess

[calkale]

did they change the stalker 2 release date 😐

[catboy-teeth]

shout out to the scandinavian internet service provider Telenor, for suddenly deciding to block access to tumblr on desktop for "security reasons"

Do you understand the Trials I am now facing. Do you understand that I have to call customer service on New Years Eve to question my lack of access to Tumblr dot Com. Do you understand that I will have to say "Ja, tømbler dot komm. T-u-m-b-l-r" out loud to a grown adult on the phone.

[heron-iles]

Wow is really depressing seeing fascism rise in Spain

[templeofelysium]

some ancient greek holidays

these holidays follow the lunar/athenian calendar, so I will either be providing the moon phase or Athenian date and the corresponding Gregorian months. also this is pretty obvious but these are just very general descriptions of these holidays, to give you an idea of which you think you'd like to practice. no one is forcing you to do every single one of these, nor is it expected. do whatever works for you.

if there's anything you think I should add, let me know

HEKATE'S DEIPNON

when: during the new moon phase purpose: honor Hekate and the souls of the restless dead, cleanse self and home activities: a meal set out at Hekate's altar (often including garlic, raw eggs, cake, leeks/onions, or fish), a sacrifice (usually of an animal, but it can be your choice), and burning of incense and/or cleaning house as purification deities honored: Hekate, the dead

NOUMENIA

when: the first day a sliver of the moon can be seen purpose: a day of rest and feasting activities: offer frankincense, flower garlands, wine, and barley cakes on the altars that had been cleaned the day before deities honored: household gods like Hestia, Hermes, Hekate and Zeus, celestial deities like Apollo and Artemis, or personal protective deities (like Athena was for Athens)

AGATHOS DAIMON

when: the day after Noumenia purpose: it's personal to each family but is often a ritual to honor the intermediary(ies) between mortals and gods, and to ask for things like good luck or protection activities: wine/other libations, offerings placed on an altar personal to the Agathos Daimon which can include incense, food, and things related to snakes deities honored: deities commonly associated with snakes, like Dionysus and Hermes, as well as the goddess of luck, Tyche, and Zeus, who is often called Agathos Daimon

RURAL DIONYSIA

when: during the month of Poseideon (december/january), but the festivals often happened on different days depending on the place purpose: honoring Dionysus and cultivation activities: a procession of men carrying phalluses, girls carrying baskets of bread, people with water, bread, cakes, and wine). dancing and singing contests, possibly even dramatic performances, and choruses of dithryambs. deities honored: Dionysus

CITY DIONYSIA

when: 10th-17th of Elaphebolion (March/April) purpose: honoring Dionysus activities: a reenactment of Dionysus being rebuffed from Athens, one or several dramas/plays, dramatic competitions, singing and dancing, feasting and offerings (especially of bread or phalluses)/libations (often of wine) deities honored: Dionysus

PANATHANEA

when: 23rd-30th of Hekatombaion (July/August) purpose: celebrating the birth of Athens activities: a huge procession showing off a large tapestry woven by only women, a torch race, a meal of meat for everyone in the city, athletic games deities honored: Athena

THARGELIA

when: 6th (for Artemis) and 7th (for Apollo) of Thargelion (May/June) purpose: celebrating the birthdays of Apollo and Artemis activities: the beating and banishment of an ugly man and woman (as purification, but you could just do the usual cleaning and incense burning) on the 6th. offerings of the first harvests were given to Apollo (but you could just cook a dish and offer part of it), a procession of children carrying a wreath with fruit, honey, wine, oil, and bread along with singing on the 7th. deities honored: Artemis and Apollo

THESMOPHORIA

when: 11th-13th Pyanepsion (October/November) purpose: honoring Demeter's loss of Persephone to the Underworld activities: a procession of women up to a space where men were banned, sexual activity was abstained from, they lived primitively (fasted and sat on a floor of branches), and sacrificed of piglets in the first days. then had feasts and prayed (often for things Demeter could provide, like good harvests or fertility) on the last day deities honored: Demeter and Persephone

DIASIA

when: 23rd of Anthesterion (February/March) purpose: honor Zeus Chthonius activities: solemn but joyful night rites of sacrifices, sheep/pig shaped pastry offerings, feasting, dancing, and hymn chanting deities honored: Zeus

KRONIA

when: 12th of Hekatombaion (July/August) purpose: honor Kronos (and to some extent Rhea) activities: feasting in large groups, where slaves can join their masters at the dinner table. like an early version of Labor Day deities honored: Kronos

THEOGAMIA

when: 27th of Gamelion (January/February) purpose: to celebrate the anniversary of Hera and Zeus' marriage activities: feasting, offerings/libations, and possibly also hosting a person's own marriage deities honored: Hera and Zeus

[vibelladonna]

𝒸𝒽𝓇𝒾𝓈𝓉𝓂𝒶𝓈'𝓈 𝓈𝓅𝑒𝒸𝒾𝒶𝓁 𝜗𝜚 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒸𝒽𝑜𝒾𝒸𝑒!

· ─────── ⋆⋅♤⋅⋆ ─────── · 

This Christmas special was inspired by Valentine's Special [2nd Love Interest] by @fantasia-kitt (the creator!)

For this Christmas, I decided to write this fanfic while running errands with family for the holidays, so please bear with me if there are any mistakes. 

I was thinking about writing something for New Year’s Eve, like a party fic, but I feel like this Christmas special is enough for now while I take a short break and catch up on some upcoming projects (three of them with deep plotlines!).  Also, this ties in with Tkatb’s 1st anniversary, which was yesterday, the 23rd! I’m super proud of how far this little game has come.

And yes, I saw the update on the plans and progress. It looks like I might start working on some of my other favorite fandoms since the game will be on hold until the major update! I’ll still be keeping an eye on the progress as a Soulmate on Patreon, and you can always ask for a fanfic if you’d like! I’ll be responding to the messages in my ask box soon!

Anyway, happy reading! Wishing you all a wonderful holiday season!

The crisp, cool December air wrapped around you like a familiar embrace, the kind that reminded you of winter's quiet power. You stepped out of the lecture hall, your final class a fading echo behind you. 

The world, for a moment, felt as if it had been held in stasis: college was finally behind you, and relief surged through your veins like a slow, satisfying exhale.

You almost burst out laughing at the thought. Thank God that's fucking over. It totally drained you, and ate away at your insides until you felt there was nothing left but pure exhaustion. But then, as it all started to sink in, this weird emptiness crept up, like that quiet moment right before a storm hit.

The goodbyes, those last waves, and parting words were still stuck in your chest, kinda just out of reach, weighing on you like you were still tied to something that wasn’t done.  

Then your phone buzzed, snapping you out of your thoughts. You looked down at the screen and spotted Brittney’s name.

— Brittney: REMINDER! Gift exchange on Christmas Eve, my place at 7! Don’t be late, or you’ll owe me extra cookies.

You scoffed and let out a soft chuckle. Brittney had this incredible thing for making demands with a level of authority that was, somehow, oddly charming. As much as you rolled your eyes at her, you couldn’t deny that her quirks always brought a smile to your face. Still, as your gaze flicked back to the message, a groan bubbled up in your chest. You scrolled back through her earlier messages to confirm what you already knew. 

"Great," you muttered under your breath. Brittney had really gone all out this year, assigning everyone a specific person to shop for, and, of course, you ended up with Crowe. 

You exhaled, frustration bubbling up. It wasn’t that you didn’t like him—he was one of your closest friends—but trying to find a gift for someone who had everything felt like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands. You could almost hear his voice in your head, teasing, cutting through whatever you picked out: “Really? This is what you think of me?” Of course, he’d never say anything like that—but what if he didn’t like it? What if he hated whatever you got him? The thought twisted uncomfortably in your chest.

You shook your head and continued walking toward the bus stop, the weight of the decision hanging over you. Simple wouldn’t cut it, but anything too over the top would make him throw a sarcastic comment at it. You had to find something that hit that sweet spot—the kind of gift that felt thoughtful without making him retreat into one of his jokes.

As if your thoughts weren’t already tangled enough, your phone buzzed again. You hesitated, almost instinctively glancing down. 

— Hyugo: Hey, what are you doing Christmas Eve? Sol and I are planning to check out the lights walk at the park. You should come!

A smile tugged at your lips. Typical Hyugo—direct, unfiltered, full of energy. His message was as breezy as his personality. And then there was Sol’s name, and that grin only deepened. The two of them together were a comedy show on legs—Sol’s quiet balance countering Hyugo’s endless whirlwind of ideas and antics. 

You stood still, fingers hovering over the screen. Christmas Eve. 

Oh no… For a moment, the thought of walking through the park with them, bathed in twinkling lights, was tempting. It would be the perfect kind of distraction, a night filled with laughter, just as you’d imagine. You pictured Hyugo pulling you and Sol into whatever wild antics he’d planned, Sol trying (and failing) to keep everything in check with his usual, resigned eye rolls.

But then, as your thumb hovered over the screen, your thoughts drifted back to Crowe. 

Last week, in the group chat, Crowe had mentioned something cryptic about "making big plans" for the holiday. He’d shrugged it off when Brittney pressed for details, but you couldn’t help but wonder if he had something in mind that involved the whole group. You felt the weight of his words in your mind. Would it be weird to bail on him now? 

You sighed, tucking your phone into your pocket as the bus stop loomed closer. 

"Why is it never simple with these friend groups?" you muttered under your breath.

Now, you had two conflicting decisions on your hands: find the perfect gift for Crowe, and decide whether you were spending Christmas Eve with him and his friends or tagging along with Hyugo and Sol on their sparkling adventure.

Your mind raced with the uncertainty, and the thought of making the "right" choice felt more elusive than ever.

The mall was buzzing with the kind of chaotic energy only the holiday season could bring—families weaving in and out of stores, the sound of Christmas music drifting from every corner, and glittering displays of tinsel and fairy lights winking at you from every window.

You hadn’t stepped foot in a mall in ages—mostly sticking to the convenience of online shopping and the hunts of thrift stores—but here you were, begrudgingly dragging Brittney along in your quest for the perfect gift for Crowe. 

“I still don’t get why you’re this stressed about it,” Brittney said, effortlessly balancing a caramel macchiato in one hand while gesturing with the other as she walked beside you. “It’s Jericho. He’ll probably be smiling no matter what you give him. Honestly, wrap up a rock, and he’ll love it anyway.”

You let out a long, drawn-out groan, clutching your coat tighter as you passed yet another store that screamed not Crowe enough. “That’s exactly why it’s stressful! If I give him something random, he’ll think I didn’t put any thought into it. And if it’s too thoughtful—well, you know how he gets.”

Brittney raised an eyebrow, her heels clicking against the tile floor like the beat of a very judgmental drum. “You’re overthinking it, as usual. But fine, we’ll find him something perfect.” She paused dramatically, then grinned like the cat who’d just caught the canary. “Right after we fix this.”

She motioned toward you like you were a mannequin in need of serious intervention. 

“What are you talking about?” you asked, narrowing your eyes, already dreading whatever plan she was about to hatch.

“Oh, come on,” she said, practically yanking your arm as she steered you toward a clothing store. “You cannot show up to my place tomorrow night wearing your same old flare jeans-and-sweater combo in dull colors. It’s festive! It’s Christmas! You need to bring your A-game.”

“I thought this was supposed to be a small get-together,” you protested, resisting her tug.

“It is. Small but fabulous. Which is why I, as your friend, am going to make sure you don’t look like you just rolled out of bed.” She pulled a sequined dress from a nearby rack with the kind of flourish reserved for Broadway stars. “What do we think? Too much?”

You stared at the dress in horror. It was so sparkly it could probably be seen from space. You shot her a flat look. “If I wear that, Crowe will definitely never let me live it down.”

“Fine, fine,” Brittney said, laughing and tossing the dress back on the rack with the grace of a fashionista throwing a tantrum. “But you’ve got to admit, you’d turn heads.”

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, though a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips as she tossed another, more reasonable outfit your way.

After what felt like an eternity—and after Brittney vetoed every “boring” outfit you tried to pick—finally, you emerged from the dressing room with a pretty outfit, you both agreed with. 

“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” Brittney said, clapping her hands in approval. “Chic, confident, and just a little bit mysterious. You’re welcome.”

You glanced at yourself in the mirror, tilting your head. “I guess it’s not bad.”

“Not bad?” she repeated, feigning offense. “Please, you look amazing. Crowe is going to have his jaw on the floor.”

You shot her a look, trying to hide the heat creeping up your neck. “Why are you bringing him into this?”

Brittney smirked knowingly. “Oh, please. Like you don’t know.” 

You rolled your eyes, but her grin was infectious, and you couldn’t suppress the smallest of smiles.

After leaving the clothing store—with Brittney carrying your new outfit like it was her triumph—you wandered into a cozy little shop filled with knick-knacks and handcrafted items. It had that eclectic, artsy vibe that immediately made you think of Crowe.  

Brittney was busy examining a shelf of scented candles when she asked casually, “So, do you ever think about dating?” You froze, nearly dropping the ceramic figurine you were holding. “Excuse me? Where did that come from?”  

“I mean, it’s the holidays,” she said, shrugging as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Romance is in the air. And you’ve been spending an awful lot of time with a certain pair of guys.”  

Your stomach flipped. “Brittney...”  

“Come on,” she pressed, leaning against the shelf with a teasing grin. “It’s Jericho, isn’t it? Or wait—maybe that dude with the green streaks in his hair?” She paused, thinking, “What’s his name again…?” She asked. You rolled your eyes, “Sol.” 

“Right, the quiet one that likes to draw…” She mentioned, “So? The prince or the artist?”  

You hesitated, your mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

Sol, with his warm, easy-going nature, always made you feel like you could be yourself. But Crowe... Crowe had a way of drawing you in, his sharp wit and creativity sparking something you couldn’t quite name.  

“I... I don’t know,” you admitted finally, your voice barely above a whisper.  

Brittney’s expression softened, her teasing giving way to genuine curiosity. “Hey, no pressure. I just think... whoever you pick, they’re lucky to have you.”  

As you walked through the mall, still thinking about her words, you stumbled upon something that made you stop in your tracks.  

It was a gorgeous, handcrafted music box, intricately carved with a winter scene. You’d seen it before on display, months ago, and fallen in love with it. But the price tag had always kept it just out of reach. You’d told yourself it wasn’t practical—your money had to go toward rent, groceries, and textbooks, not something so frivolous.  

Yet here it was, glimmering in the soft light as if waiting for you.  

“What’s that?” Brittney asked, peeking over your shoulder.  

You swallowed hard. “It’s... something I’ve wanted for a while. But it’s too expensive.”  

She raised an eyebrow, glancing at you, then back at the music box. “Maybe it’s time to treat yourself for once. It’s Christmas, after all.”  

You shook your head, stepping away reluctantly. “I can’t. I need to stick to my budget.”  

Brittney frowned but didn’t push. Instead, she linked her arm with yours and said, “All right, let’s go. We’ve still got to find gifts.”  

By the time you left the mall, you were exhausted but triumphant. You’d found the perfect gifts—Brittney had, of course, insisted on adding a bow to each package.  

With the gifts secured, you headed home, your thoughts kept drifting back to the music box—and to the question, you couldn’t quite answer. Crowe or Sol?  

Standing in front of your mirror, you smoothed the soft fabric of the outfit Brittney had picked out for you—a cozy yet stylish off-shoulder sweater black sweater dress paired with maroon tights, and a matching bow that sits on your nightstand.

It fit perfectly, hitting all the curves, and you had to admit, Brittney had an annoyingly good eye. When she handed you the bag earlier, she had waved away your protests with a grin.  

“Think of it as a gift,” she’d said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “I had no clue what to get you anyway, so this counts. You’re welcome.”  

You laughed at the memory as you reached for the maroon bow. It was a small, thoughtful gesture from her, but it carried more weight than she probably realized. Brittney always had a way of showing her care through actions, even if she hid it behind sarcasm.  

Your gaze shifted to your phone on the dresser, the screen still lit up with Hyugo’s text. You tapped your nails on the dresser, reading the message again and again. The idea of strolling under the glowing canopy of Christmas lights was tempting. Hyugo’s steady, dependable presence had always been a source of comfort, and Sol...  

Your chest tightened slightly at the thought of Sol. He wasn’t the loudest or the most expressive, but he had a quiet way of showing he cared. Whether it was walking on the side of the road closest to traffic or remembering your favorite snacks when you studied late, Sol went out of his way to protect you in the subtlest ways.  

But then there was Crowe.  

You glanced at your reflection in the mirror, sighing softly as you adjusted the collar of your sweater dress. Crowe was the opposite of Sol in many ways—charismatic, quick-witted, and always so present. He had a way of being there when you needed him most, whether it was cracking a joke to pull you out of a bad mood or reminding you to take care of yourself when you pushed too hard. Crowe didn’t just care about you; he saw you.  

Your brush stilled in your hand as your thoughts tangled. Sol, with his quiet strength and unspoken devotion, versus Crowe, whose vibrant energy and unwavering support had become a constant in your life. It wasn’t the first time you’d felt torn like this, but tonight, with everything hanging in the air, the question loomed larger than ever.  

You placed the brush down and reached for your phone. Your thumb hovered over the screen, Hyugo’s text still unanswered.  

The truth was, both options held their kind of magic. You could picture yourself with Sol and Hyugo, laughing as Sol attempted to grab a runaway balloon from a vendor at the Christmas lights. But you could also imagine spending the night with Crowe and the rest of the group, his familiar presence anchoring you as the chaos of the party swirled around you, perhaps playing games and catching up. 

Would Crowe be disappointed if you didn’t go?  

You bit your lip, closing your eyes for a moment as you let out a long breath. There wasn’t a perfect answer, and no amount of overthinking would make the choice any easier. Finally, you set the phone down with a soft thud and looked back at your reflection.  

“Just go with your gut,” you murmured to yourself.  

As you adjusted your clothes in the minor one last time, you headed to your living room. You put on your leather boots, then grabbed your coat, and you made your way toward the door. No matter what decision you made tonight, you knew one thing for certain: the holidays weren’t about the lights, the gifts, or even the plans—they were about the people who mattered most to you.  

And whether that person was Crowe or Sol... maybe the night would help you figure that out.  

If you picked Crowe!

You stood in front of your front door, staring at your phone screen as your thumb hovered over the keyboard. Hyugo’s invitation sat open on your messaging app, the words staring back at you like a challenge.  

Spending Christmas Eve with him and Sol sounded wonderful. The idea of walking under glowing lights, sharing laughter and stories, and basking in the quiet warmth of their presence was so tempting. You could already picture Sol’s quiet, steady energy and Hyugo’s easygoing humor, balancing each other out like always.  

But then there was Brittney’s party. She had been planning it for weeks, texting in all caps about the details and how “NO ONE was allowed to skip out unless they wanted to face my WRATH.” And Crowe… well, Crowe had been unusually involved in the group chat about the exchange. You could sense his subtle excitement, even though he’d never admit it outright.  

Your heartfelt caught between two equally important choices. One evening with Hyugo and Sol would mean stepping away from the rest of your friends, missing out on the little traditions that had brought you all closer. And yet, declining Hyugo’s invitation felt like a lost chance to make a special memory with him and Sol.  

Biting your lip, you finally typed out a reply, your fingers moving hesitantly:  

— You: I’d love to, but my friends already planned something. Maybe next time?  

You stared at the message for another moment before pressing send, a pang of guilt twisting in your chest.  

It wasn’t long before your phone buzzed with Hyugo’s response:  

— Hyugo: Got it. Have fun!  

You smiled softly at the screen, some of the tension in your chest easing. Hyugo was always so understanding—steady and reliable, no matter the situation. But before you could set your phone down, it buzzed again.  

The name flashing on the screen made your stomach flip.  

Sol.  

You hesitated for a beat before answering. “Hey,” you said, keeping your tone light despite the sudden tightness in your throat.  

“Hey,” he replied, his voice calm but noticeably quieter than usual. “I just wanted to check... So, you’re not coming tonight?”  

Your chest tightened further at the faint thread of disappointment in his tone. “I’m really sorry, Sol,” you said, sighing softly. “I already have plans with others friends. I don’t want to bail on them.”  

There was a pause, long enough for your heart to sink. When Sol spoke again, his words were careful, and understanding, but there was no hiding the sadness that laced his tone. “It’s okay. I get it. Maybe we can hang out another time.”  

The lump in your throat grew heavier. “We definitely will,” you promised quickly, wishing you could say something to lighten the weight you could feel in his words.  

In the background, you heard Hyugo’s voice. “Is that them? Gimme the phone.”  

There was a rustling sound before Hyugo’s familiar warmth came through the line. “Hey, don’t worry about it,” he said with an easy chuckle. “We’ll survive without you. But next time, no excuses, okay?”  

The lightheartedness in his tone made your shoulders relax slightly. You couldn’t help but laugh softly, relieved by his usual charm. “Thanks, Hyugo. Have fun tonight, okay?”  

“You too!” he teased before adding, “And try not to let your friends drag you into too much chaos. See you soon.”  

The line clicked, leaving you standing in the quiet entryway of your apartment. You lowered the phone slowly, staring at it for a moment longer as an ache settled in your chest. Sol’s voice lingered in your mind, soft and careful, and you couldn’t help but wish things could have been different.  

But tonight, you reminded yourself, was about being with the others, about keeping the traditions you’d built with them alive. With a deep breath, you slipped your phone into your pocket and grabbed your coat, stepping into the night air with a mixture of anticipation and bittersweet longing swirling in your heart.  

The evening of the party arrived, and as you approached Brittney’s house, the warmth and energy of the gathering spilled out onto the deck porch. Golden light glowed from the windows, the cheerful hum of music and laughter drifting into the chilly December air. You paused for a moment at the door, pulling your coat tighter around yourself as you gathered your thoughts.  

With a steadying breath, you knocked. A moment later, the door swung open, and there was Brittney, her face lighting up with her signature, effervescent grin.  

“Finally! I thought you’d never get here,” she said, already reaching to help you with your coat.  

“Sorry, I was—”  

“Fashionably late,” she interrupted, her eyes scanning your outfit. A satisfied hum escaped her lips as she appraised you. “Now this is what I’m talking about. You’re stunning.”  

You laughed softly, slipping out of your coat to reveal the gorgeous outfit Brittney had insisted on picking for you—a soft black off the shoulder dressed, paired with maroon tights with an matching bow that made you feel both elegant and confident. She handed you a pair of house shoes, the ones you knew she kept around for occasions like this.  

“I feel like I’m overdressed,” you said lightly, but Brittney shook her head, waving a dismissive hand.  

“Overdressed? Please. It’s Christmas. You’re perfect.”  

Before you could respond, a familiar voice cut through the cheerful din behind her.  

“Hey, you made it.”  

Your gaze shifted, and there stood Crowe. For a moment, you simply stared, taking him in. He wore an azure button-up shirt, paired with a black vest that complemented his rich brown skin, the deep hue drawing out the warm tones of his deep blue eyes. A sapphire brooch glinted at the center of a meticulously tied black bow around his collar, and his long hair was pulled into a low ponytail, tied back with a matching azure ribbon.  

In his hands, he held a small bouquet of blue irises.  

Your breath caught, and as he stepped closer, you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander over his outfit . “Wow,” you murmured. “You look... princely.”  

Crowe raised an eyebrow, his usual smirk faltering as a flicker of warmth crossed his expression. “And you look...” He paused, his gaze lingering on you before softening. “Really beautiful.”  

“Only tonight?” you teased, raising an eyebrow and tilting your head.  

His eyes widened, and he stumbled over his words, flustered in a way you didn’t see often. “No, I mean—you look beautiful every day, but tonight you just—” He stopped, rubbing the back of his neck as a sheepish laugh escaped him.  

You both burst into laughter, the tension easing in an instant. Brittney rolled her eyes dramatically, patting Crowe’s shoulder as she passed. “Well, my work here is done,” she said, her tone dripping with mock exasperation. “Don’t mess this up, princeling.”  

As Brittney disappeared back to the living room, leaving you and Crowe in the hallway. He turned his attention back to you, holding out the bouquet. “These are for you,” he said simply.  

You took the flowers carefully, the soft petals brushing your fingertips. Your eyes widened slightly as you studied the blooms. “Blue irises,” you said, your voice thoughtful. “They’re beautiful.”  

He tilted his head, his smirk returning. “I thought you’d like them. They’re supposed to mean hope and trust—or something like that.”  

“And wisdom,” you added, looking up at him with a smile. “The iris has been associated with wisdom and truth because of the Greek goddess Iris, who was a messenger for Zeus and Hera. And nobility, too—it’s been connected to royalty throughout history.”  

Crowe’s brow lifted, clearly impressed. “Well, aren’t you just a walking encyclopedia?”  

You grinned. “Maybe. But you picked well. Thank you.”  

The warmth in his gaze deepened, and for a moment, it felt like the noise of the party faded away.  

“You’re welcome,” he said softly.  

Soon the room was buzzing with anticipation as the gift exchange began. Brittney, playing hostess to perfection, had everyone seated in a loose circle, with the mountain of brightly wrapped presents taking center stage. You were perched on the edge of a couch, trying to calm the slight flutter in your chest as the turn order worked its way closer to Crowe.  

When his name was finally called, he shot to his feet with his usual flair, bowing dramatically as the room cheered. “Thank you, thank you,” he said, waving his hand like a performer accepting applause. “But this isn’t about me—it’s about you all witnessing the unveiling of my superior gift-giving skills.”  

Brittney rolled her eyes. “Just get on with it, princeling.”  

Crowe smirked at her before his gaze flicked to you. A mischievous glint lit his deep blue eyes as he strode toward you, a carefully curated basket in his hands. He stopped in front of you, his grin softening into something a little more sincere.  

“This one’s for you,” he said, holding the basket out with a slight flourish.  

You blinked, surprised as you took the basket from him. “For me?”  

He tilted his head, his smirk deepening. “Well, yeah. You’re hard to shop for, so don’t judge me too harshly, okay?”  

You set the basket on your lap and began pulling back the tissue paper, and your eyes widened as you took in the contents. Inside were all your favorite things—snacks you couldn’t resist, small trinkets in your favorite color, and even a notebook that perfectly matched your aesthetic.  

“Crowe...” you murmured, already feeling a warmth spreading in your chest. But as you moved the tissue paper aside further, your gaze landed on something at the center that made your breath hitch—a beautifully crafted music box.  

“You...” You looked up at him, your voice barely above a whisper.  

Crowe shifted on his feet, rubbing the back of his neck in a rare display of nervousness. “I wasn’t sure what to get you,” he admitted, his voice quieter than usual. “You’re always saying you have everything you need, and every time I offer to get you something, you turn me down like I’m trying to buy your soul or something.”  

A ripple of laughter spread through the room, and you couldn’t help but smile. “So, I figured I’d just... cover all my bases. You know, a little bit of everything. And, uh... I remembered how much you like little tunes and stuff, so...” He motioned awkwardly to the music box, looking anywhere but directly at you.  

Your chest tightened as a wave of emotion swept over you. The thoughtfulness behind the gift—the way he’d paid attention to all the little details about you—left you speechless. Without thinking, you stood up, leaned toward him, and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.  

“Thank you, Crowe,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.  

For a moment, Crowe froze, his eyes wide as the room erupted into a chorus of whistles and teasing laughter. His hand flew to his cheek, and the tips of his ears turned a faint shade of red.  

“Well, well, well,” Brittney said loudly, holding up her phone and snapping a picture. “Looks like Crowe’s the real winner tonight.”  

Crowe groaned, glaring playfully at her. “Don’t you have a party to host or something?”  

Brittney smirked. “This is hosting. Carry on, lovebirds.”  

The teasing didn’t stop there. Someone shouted, “How about a speech, Crowe?!” and someone else chimed in with, “Yeah, tell us how it feels to win Christmas!”  

Crowe sighed dramatically, but the small smile tugging at his lips betrayed how much he appreciated the attention. “It feels like... a conspiracy,” he quipped, shooting you a quick, fond glance.  

As the laughter died down and the gift exchange continued, you found yourself clutching the basket tightly. You caught Crowe looking at you a few times, and each time, he offered a soft, almost shy smile.  

As the night wore on, the room buzzed with laughter and excitement. You sat quietly, watching the group banter back and forth, their camaraderie filling the space with a warmth that rivaled the glow of the twinkling fairy lights strung across the walls. Brittney flitted from group to group, her laughter ringing out as she teased someone about their gift-wrapping skills. Crowe’s voice cut through the chatter every so often, his witty remarks earning groans and snickers alike.  

You smiled at their antics, but the warmth in your chest was tinged with a bittersweet ache. The ease with which they all interacted—the history they shared—sometimes made you feel like an outsider, no matter how much they cared for you. You still felt new. You blinked quickly, willing away the sting in your eyes, but the knot in your throat tightened, looking down at your hands.

A quiet voice broke through your thoughts.  

“Hey.”  

You looked up to find Crowe standing beside you, his brow furrowed, concern softening his usually playful expression. He crouched slightly to meet your gaze, his hand brushing lightly against your arm.  

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low so only you could hear.  

You nodded quickly, forcing a smile as you wiped at your eyes. “Yeah,” you said, though your voice wavered. “I just need some fresh air.”  

He didn’t ask any more questions. Instead, he held out a hand, helping you up. “Come on,” he said softly, guiding you toward the door.  

Outside, the crisp night air greeted you, sharp and refreshing against your skin. The muffled sounds of music and laughter from inside felt distant now, replaced by the soft rustling of trees and the faint twinkle of stars overhead.  

You leaned against the railing of the porch, closing your eyes for a moment as you took a deep breath. When you opened them again, Crowe was watching you, his expression unreadable.  

A tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it. Crowe noticed immediately, his brow knitting in concern. Without hesitation, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a blue handkerchief.  

He stepped closer, his movements gentle as he raised the handkerchief to your cheek, wiping the tear away. His touch was warm and deliberate, his fingertips barely grazing your skin.  

The tenderness of the gesture caught you off guard, and when he realized how close he was, his hand faltered. “Sorry, I—”  

You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes as a small, shaky breath escaped you. “Thank you,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.  

His hand lingered for a moment longer before he pulled back, his lips curving into a small, lopsided smile. “You don’t have to thank me,” he said softly.  

The two of you stood there in comfortable silence for a while, the cool night air brushing against your faces. Eventually, Crowe leaned against the railing beside you, his arm brushing yours as he tilted his head back to look at the sky.  

“Do you know much about constellations?” he asked, his tone lighter now.  

You glanced at him, grateful for the change in mood. “A little. Why?”  

He pointed upward, his hand tracing the shape of a cluster of stars. “That one right there—that’s Cassiopeia. The queen who bragged about how beautiful she was and got herself in trouble with the gods.”  

You laughed softly. “Sounds like someone I know.”  

Crowe gasped in mock offense, pressing a hand to his chest. “I’ll have you know, I am humble to a fault.”  

“Sure, princeling,” you teased, nudging him gently with your shoulder.  

He grinned, his gaze drifting back to the stars. “Anyway, you’re more like Andromeda. You know, the princess who was chained to a rock but ended up becoming a constellation. Quiet strength, endless beauty... and the kind of person you can’t help but notice.”  

Your breath hitched slightly at his words, and when you turned to look at him, his eyes were already on you, warm and sincere.  

“I...” You hesitated, your emotions threatening to spill over again. But instead of speaking, you reached into your pocket and pulled out a small box.  

“I almost forgot,” you said, your voice steadying. “This is for you.”  

Crowe blinked, surprised, as he took the box from your hands. When he opened it, his expression softened even further. Inside were two matching necklaces, one in gold and one in silver, with interlocking stars at the center.  

“They fit together,” you explained, taking the gold one and clipping it around his neck. “Yours is gold and mine’s silver. I thought...” You hesitated again, suddenly shy. “I thought it’d be a nice reminder.”  

Crowe’s fingers brushed the charm, his gaze flicking between the necklace and you. “It’s perfect,” he said, his voice low. “Thank you.”  

The two of you stood close, the distance between you barely enough to breathe, yet it felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you. Your hands brushed as you admired the matching necklaces, an unspoken connection flickering between the two of you. Crowe’s lips parted, as if he was about to say something, but then he suddenly laughed, his eyes catching something in the distance.

“What’s so funny?” you asked, your head tilting curiously, the soft flicker of the holiday lights casting a warm glow on your face.

He pointed upward, his eyes mischievous. “You didn’t notice?”

Following his gaze, your eyes landed on a sprig of mistletoe hanging directly above you, its green leaves almost glowing under the lights. The realization hit you, and heat surged to your cheeks, a soft flush spreading across your skin. You looked back at him, your heart suddenly racing, and found him raising his hands in mock surrender, his lips curling into that knowing smile of his.

“You don’t have to,” he said, his tone playful but edged with something deeper, like he was daring you to take the plunge. “It’s just a tradition, you know—.”

But you didn’t let him finish.

Without a second thought, you stepped closer, closing the gap between you until you were mere inches apart. Your fingers gently cupped his cheek, and as his breath hitched, you pressed your lips to his.

The kiss was electric. Crowe froze for the briefest of seconds, as if surprised by your sudden boldness, but then he melted into it, his hands settling onto your waist, his touch firm yet careful. The world around you seemed to vanish, the only thing that existed was the sensation of his lips against yours, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours. It was soft, tender, but there was an intensity to it—like a fire that had been smoldering, just waiting for the right moment to ignite.

His lips moved against yours, slow at first, savoring the closeness. The kiss deepened, and you could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat through the way his chest pressed gently against yours. You pulled him in closer, your hands tangling in the fabric of his jacket, as though afraid that if you let go, the moment would slip away. His body was pressed against yours now, his chest flush against yours, his strong arms securing you in place, as if to make sure you didn’t fall.

When you finally pulled back, the air between you seemed charged, crackling with unspoken words. His eyes were softer than you’d ever seen them, deeply in love and warm with something that made your heart race. He smiled, a slow, genuine curve of his lips, his voice low and tender when he finally spoke.

“I’ve been waiting for that,” he whispered, his words almost lost in the space between your lips. His hand remained at the small of your back, holding you close, his fingers warm against your skin.

Before you could even process the weight of his words, a loud voice broke through the fragile moment.

“Got it!” Brittney crowed from the window, waving her phone triumphantly as if she had just captured a moment of great importance.

You groaned, your face immediately hiding in your hands, embarrassed, but Crowe just laughed, the sound warm and carefree, his arm effortlessly wrapping around your shoulders.

“Let them watch,” he said with a grin, pulling you closer, his breath tickling your ear. “I don’t care.”

And for the first time that night, as his arm pulled you tighter against him, you didn’t care either.

If you picked Sol!

You stood motionless, phone resting in your hand, as you stared at the glowing screen.  

— You: I’d love to come. When should I meet you?  

Hyugo’s response came almost immediately.  

— Hyugo: 6:30 at the park entrance. Can’t wait!  

A small smile tugged at your lips, the kind that didn’t quite reach your eyes. You knew tonight would be special; Hyugo and Sol had a way of making even the simplest outings unforgettable. But as your gaze drifted to Crowe’s name in your contacts, the smile faded.  

Crowe.

He deserved to know you wouldn’t be there. You owed him that much.  

Your thumb hovered over the call button, hesitating as a pang of guilt settled in your chest. This wasn’t an easy decision, but you couldn’t be everywhere at once. Taking a steadying breath, you pressed the button and lifted the phone to your ear.  

The line rang twice before Crowe answered, his familiar voice as warm and teasing as ever. “Hey, what’s up? Please don’t tell me you’re chickening out on me for tonight.”  

A soft laugh escaped you, but the guilt in your tone was unmistakable. “Not exactly chickening out, but... I can’t make it. I have other plans.”  

The silence that followed stretched long enough to make your chest tighten. You checked the screen to make sure the call hadn’t dropped, but then Crowe’s voice returned, quieter now.  

“Oh. I see. Well, that’s okay. I mean, we’ll miss you, but it’s not Christmas without options, right?”  

His attempt at lightness only deepened the ache in your heart. You could hear the subtle disappointment beneath his words, even if he was trying to hide it.  

“I’m sorry, Crowe,” you said softly. “I really hope you have a great time. Merry Christmas.”  

He chuckled lightly, though the usual energy in his laugh wasn’t there. “Yeah, you too. Take care, okay?”  

When the call ended, you stared at the blank screen for a moment, the weight of your choice pressing on you. Crowe’s voice lingered in your mind, and for a fleeting second, you almost reconsidered. But tonight was about something different—something you couldn’t quite name yet.  

Later that evening, you arrived at the park entrance, the crisp night air nipping at your cheeks as the scent of pine and roasted chestnuts filled the air. Strings of twinkling lights turned the trees into glowing sculptures, and the cheerful hum of holiday music mingled with the sound of children laughing and families chatting.  

Your breath puffed in the cold air as you scanned the crowd. It didn’t take long to spot Hyugo leaning against a lamppost, his tall frame relaxed and his hands tucked casually into his coat pockets. He gave you a small wave, but it wasn’t Hyugo who drew your attention.  

A few steps away stood Sol.  

He was dressed impeccably, his white button-up shirt and green suit jacket tailored perfectly to his lean frame. The deep green of the jacket brought out the striking shade of his eyes, and his neatly styled ponytail only emphasized the sharp lines of his face. His bangs framed his expression, highlighting the glint of the piercings lining his ears.  

But it was the bouquet in his hands that truly caught your attention. A cluster of green roses, delicate and vibrant against the cold winter backdrop.  

Your heart skipped a beat as you walked toward him, your eyes widening. “Green roses,” you said softly, taking the bouquet from his hands with care. “They’re about life and growth. Hope, too.”  

Sol blinked, his lips parting slightly in surprise before his expression softened. A faint blush crept up his neck as he scratched the back of his head. “Yeah... I thought you’d like them.”  

You couldn’t help yourself. Without thinking, you leaned forward and hugged him, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.  

Sol froze, his body going stiff as his blush deepened to an almost crimson hue. He stammered incoherently for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck as if to ground himself.  

“Well, this is already adorable,” Hyugo said, his calm voice laced with amusement as he walked up. “Thanks for officially making me the third wheel tonight.”  

You laughed, clutching the roses to your chest as you turned to Hyugo. “Don’t be so dramatic. Here, I have something for you.”  

Reaching into the small gift bag in your hand, you pulled out a silver katana necklace. Hyugo’s brows lifted as he took it, his fingers brushing the delicate chain.  

“Wow,” he said, holding it up to catch the light. “This is... really nice. Thanks!”  

“Only the best for you,” you teased, grinning as he slipped it on. The chain glinted under the lights, and he adjusted it with a satisfied nod.  

“Looks good on me, doesn’t it?” he said, striking a mock-serious pose.  

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “It does. But let’s not let it go to your head, okay?”  

As the three of you began walking into the park, the weight of the earlier phone call began to ease. The twinkling lights, the crisp air, and the warmth of your friends’ presence all blended into a moment you wouldn’t forget.  

The world around you transformed into a glowing wonderland of twinkling lights. Strings of bulbs wound through the trees like cascading stars, and lanterns in festive shapes lined the paths. The air was filled with the sounds of cheerful laughter, holiday music, and the occasional jingling bell from a passing sleigh ride.  

Hyugo walked ahead, his easy stride and relaxed demeanor making him seem like he belonged in this magical setting. Occasionally, he pointed out displays, his commentary a mix of genuine appreciation and sarcastic humor.  

“See that?” he said, gesturing to a particularly gaudy reindeer display. “That’s exactly what my family’s yard looks like. Overachieving neighbors are a real thing.”  

You laughed, falling into step with Sol, who had remained quieter than usual. He walked beside you, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets now that the bouquet was safely cradled in your arms. His reddish-orange eyes flitted between the lights and you, his expression thoughtful.  

“You okay back there, Sol?” Hyugo called over his shoulder, smirking. “You’re way too quiet. I’m starting to think the roses did all the talking for you.”  

Sol’s cheeks flushed again, but he managed a small smile. “I’m fine. Just... enjoying the view.” Hyugo snorted. “Yeah, sure you are.”  

You glanced up at Sol, catching the way his gaze lingered on you before darting away. Your heart skipped slightly, and you decided to give him a reprieve from Hyugo’s teasing. “The lights are beautiful,” you said softly, gesturing toward the canopy of stars above the path.  

Sol nodded, his voice equally quiet. “Yeah, they are.”  

The three of you continued along the winding path, pausing occasionally to take in the more elaborate displays—a massive tree covered in golden lights, an archway adorned with glittering ornaments, and a whimsical snowman family that had children running circles around it.  

Hyugo excused himself after spotting a nearby food stall. “I’m getting hot cocoa. Anyone want some?”  

You shook your head, and Sol muttered a soft, “No, thanks.”  

“Suit yourselves. I’ll be back in a bit,” Hyugo said with a casual wave, leaving you and Sol alone under the shimmering lights.  

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was charged with something unspoken. Sol glanced at you, his hands fidgeting slightly in his pockets.  

“You look really nice tonight,” he said suddenly, his voice shy but earnest.  

You turned to him, surprised. “Thank you. You do, too.”  

He smiled faintly, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he wasn’t sure how far to let it go. “I mean it,” he added, his gaze dropping for a moment before meeting yours again. “You always look nice, but tonight... I don’t know. You’re so pretty.”  

Your breath caught at the sincerity in his voice. For a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. “Thank you,” you said again, your voice softer this time.  

The lights overhead cast a soft glow on both of you, the world feeling smaller and quieter. Your thoughts began to wander, and a faint ache tugged at your chest.  

You’d spent so many Christmases surrounded by family, their familiar warmth and chaos filling every corner of your childhood home. This year was different. You’d made a life for yourself in the city and built relationships and traditions with your friends, but the distance from your family suddenly felt heavier than ever.  

Sol noticed the shift in your expression immediately. His brows furrowed, and he tilted his head slightly, stepping closer. “Hey,” he said gently. “You okay?”  

You blinked quickly, realizing tears had started to well in your eyes. “Yeah,” you said, wiping at them with a quick smile. “I’m fine. Just... thinking about home.”  

His concern deepened, and for a moment, he hesitated, like he wasn’t sure if he should say anything. Finally, he reached out, resting a hand on your shoulder. “It’s okay to miss them,” he said softly. “You don’t have to hide it.”  

The warmth in his voice unraveled something inside you, and you nodded, swallowing hard. “Thank you, Sol,” you murmured.  

A small smile returned to his face, and he pulled his hand back, letting the moment settle. After a few moments, you reached into your bag, a spark of excitement cutting through the heaviness in your chest. “Actually, I have something for you,” you said, pulling out a small box.  

Sol blinked in surprise, watching as you handed it to him. “What’s this?”  

“Open it,” you said with a grin.  

He carefully lifted the lid to reveal a miniature horse keychain, painted green and black to match his colors. Sol’s eyes widened, and a small, genuine smile spread across his face.  

“For me?” he asked, his voice almost disbelieving.  

You nodded. “And this one’s for me,” you added, pulling out a matching keychain—a small cat painted in your favorite colors. “Now we’ve got matching keychains. To think of each other, you know.”  

Sol stared at the tiny horse in his hands, his fingers brushing the smooth surface. “I love it,” he said finally, his voice quiet but full of emotion. “Thank you.”  

Before you could respond, Sol reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a neatly wrapped box. “I, uh... have something for you too,” he said, handing it over.  

You unwrapped it carefully, and your breath caught as the lid lifted to reveal the music box you’d been dreaming about for months.  

Tears sprang to your eyes again, but this time they were filled with pure joy. You couldn’t quite believe what you were seeing. “Sol… how did you…?”

He stood there, his hands twitching nervously at his sides, the usual confidence he carried nowhere to be found. He took a tentative step closer, and the vulnerability in his eyes made your heart ache. “I remembered you talking about it once,” he said, his voice faltering, tinged with uncertainty. “I just thought you should have it.”

His words, the meaning behind them, hit you all at once. He was so thoughtful, so careful. But it was his panicked expression that really caught you off guard. His hands hovered awkwardly in the air, unsure whether to comfort you or retreat, his reddish orange eyes wide with worry, silently questioning if he had done too much. “I—was this too much? I just thought you’d—”

You couldn’t bear to see him like that, unsure and vulnerable, so you stepped forward, closing the distance between you. Slowly, you rose up onto your toes, your hands wrapping around his broad shoulders, grounding yourself in his presence.

Before he could finish his thought, you pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips, letting your emotions guide you. His breath hitched, and for a long moment, everything seemed to pause. The twinkling lights that decorated the trees, the distant laughter of other parkgoers, even the crisp winter air—all of it faded away, leaving only the heat of his skin and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat that somehow synced with yours.

Sol froze at first, his lips still under yours, as if his mind hadn’t caught up with what was happening. But slowly, you felt him relax into the kiss. His hands, unsure at first, settled lightly on your arms, and then, as if he was grounding himself in the moment, they tightened just slightly, pulling you in closer.

His touch was little rough, but you could feel the depth of his feelings in the way his fingers brushed against your skin—like he was afraid to let go, as if the moment might slip away if he did.

When you finally pulled back, the air around you felt charged, alive with the emotion you both had been holding back. Sol stood there, his wide eyes locked on you, his cheeks flushed so deeply that even the tips of his ears had turned a deep shade of red. His chest rose and fell quickly, like he couldn’t quite process what had just happened.

“I… uh…” he stammered, his voice barely a whisper, as if words had momentarily escaped him.

A soft laugh escaped you, breaking the intensity of the moment. You wiped away the lingering tears from your cheeks, trying to steady yourself. “Thank you, Sol,” you said, your voice steady despite the rush of emotions swirling in your chest. “For everything. For the music box, for being here… for being you.”

Sol’s lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to respond, but instead, all he managed was a shy, lopsided smile. The kind that made your heart flutter, as if his very soul was laid bare in that simple gesture.

You smiled back, your cheeks still flushed with warmth despite the winter chill, and there was something about the way his gaze lingered on you that made everything feel right, in a way you never expected.

“And for the record,” you added softly, your tone more serious now, “I care about you. So much.”

Sol’s smile deepened, and his eyes seemed to glow with a mixture of disbelief and quiet happiness. His voice, when it came, was so soft, so full of emotion, it felt like a secret meant just for you. “I’m just glad you’re here,” he murmured, his hand gently brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his touch warm and tender. “You’re the best muse I’ll ever have.”

His words hung in the air between you, and it felt like time itself had slowed down, each second stretching into eternity as you stood there, lost in the quiet connection you shared. The world, the winter, the chaos of everything else—it all melted away in that one moment, leaving only the feeling of his hands, his heart, and the soft glow of your shared affection.

Before either of you could say more, Hyugo’s suddenly voice cut through the tender moment, laced with amusement.  

“Well, I feel like I should leave you two lovebirds alone, but... I also don’t want to walk home alone, so…”  

The interruption made you laugh, the sound light and genuine as the heaviness in your chest fully lifted. Sol’s blush only deepened, and he looked down, scratching the back of his neck in his usual awkward fashion.  

Your hand found his instinctively, your fingers lacing together as you turned to face Hyugo. “You’re hopeless,” you called teasingly.  

“Yeah, yeah,” Hyugo said with a mock sigh. “Glad you’ve finally figured that out.”  

As the three of you continued along the path, Sol’s grip on your hand remained firm, his thumb brushing lightly against yours as though to reassure himself this wasn’t a dream. The lights above reflected in his eyes, making them shine like rubies against the backdrop of the winter evening.  

After a few moments of quiet, Sol glanced at you, his gaze steady but laced with a familiar shyness. “Thanks for being here,” he said, his voice low but full of meaning.  

You looked up at him, warmth blooming in your chest. “Of course. Where else would I be?”  

He hesitated for just a second, and then, with a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, he added, “…And I’m glad I didn’t have to shed any blood to win you over.”  

You stopped in your tracks, staring at him in mock disbelief before bursting into laughter. “What a charmer,” you said, shaking your head.  

Sol chuckled softly, his grip on your hand tightening just slightly. “What can I say? …I aim to impress you alone.”  

The teasing gave way to a comfortable silence as the two of you continued walking, your hands still intertwined. The world around you felt warmer, and brighter, like the holiday lights above had found a way to settle into your chest and glow from the inside out.  

For the first time that night, you felt completely at peace, the bittersweet ache of the season replaced by something sweeter: the quiet, steadfast warmth of someone who cared for you deeply.  

You two reached Hyugo, who was waiting by another set of light displays, waving his hand over to call you and Sol to have a closer look.

You couldn’t help but think that this chilly winter night had turned into something magical.  

The soft hum of your phone was the only sound in the stillness of your room, the faint light casting long shadows across the walls as you lay there, scrolling through the pictures from the night of Christmas Eve. Each image flickered before your eyes like a fragment of time—memories that felt both distant and vivid, frozen in the glow of your screen.

The liveliness of Crowe and his friends, the way their energy seemed to fill the room and make the night brighter. Or the warmth of the park, the laughter of Hyugo and Sol, their voices mingling with the cold December air. 

You felt an unexpected peace settle deep in your chest, a quiet kind of comfort.

College may have been over, for now, but something else had started to take root—connections that would stretch far beyond the walls of classrooms and lectures. Friendships that felt solid, steady, like something that might stand the test of time.

Just as you set the phone aside, your eyes began to flutter shut, your body sinking into the softness of the bed, drifting completely off to sleep.

Afterward, the soft sound at the window—a quiet rustle of fabric, the faintest click of the latch being undone. Then, a shadow moved across the room, sleek and fluid, dressed entirely in black. The figure moved with practiced ease, slipping silently through your window as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Sol.

His silhouette was barely visible against the darkness, but you could feel the presence of his mischievous grin even before he stepped into the soft pool of light in your room. He was quick, and efficient as if he had done this a hundred times before, and yet there was something undeniably thoughtful in the way he moved—careful not to disturb anything, as if he didn’t want to interrupt the calm of the night.

He stood there for a moment, just watching your sleeping figure, his eyes heart-shaped, glinting with quiet amusement. You could feel something warm in his gaze. Then, he crossed the room, slow enough not to startle you, and crouched down at the edge of your bed. His black clothing blended into the shadows, the outline of his lean figure and the small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

You were deep in sleep, the world around you a blur of comforting darkness. And yet, in that dreamlike space, you could feel his presence, like a whisper threading through the silence. 

"You made it through the year," his voice murmured, a soft, velvety tone that carried a weight of something unspoken—something meaningful. His words were like a gentle caress, and though you could barely register them in your dream state, they stirred something inside you, something warm, something that made you feel understood. 

A movement—delicate, almost reverent—pulled you from the haze of sleep. His hand, steady and sure, reached out to you, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. His touch was feather-light, as though he was afraid to disturb the fragile peace of the moment. You could feel the warmth of his fingertips lingering on your skin, a soft, lingering touch that made you feel protected, and cared for, even in your slumber.

"Wishing you the best in the new year," he whispered, his voice barely audible but thick with intent. 

You didn’t stir, caught in the embrace of sleep, but somehow, his words echoed through your mind like a distant lullaby. His hand dropped, and then there was a shift, the movement of him leaning forward, his presence closer now, filling the space between you. 

His lips brushed against your lip, the kiss so gentle it felt like the flutter of a butterfly’s wings. It was brief, fleeting, but tender—an unspoken promise, woven into the light touch, something that lingered on your skin even after he pulled away. His warmth stayed with you for a heartbeat, then another, the feeling of him still hanging in the air like a quiet echo.

For a moment, everything was still. His expression remained unreadable, as it often did, but there was something else there—something deeper, more sincere than you were used to seeing. He didn’t need to say more; his presence was enough. 

"Happy New Year~” he said, his voice soft but carrying a quiet smile, one that tugged at the corners of his lips as though he knew something you didn’t. And then, as swiftly as he had come, he was gone—leaving behind only the lingering warmth of his touch and the faintest trace of his words, woven into the fabric of your dreams. Still, a smile tugged at your lips as you thought about the promise of the new year—of fresh starts and endless possibilities.

Whatever moments the future held, you knew they'd be all the more meaningful depending on who you chose to share them with.

· ─────── ⋆⋅♤⋅⋆ ─────── · 

[mogamingthe1st]

Hatchetfiled Trilogy Posters

I'm gonna print them and put them on my wall :)

The NPMD one has a lot of little details and the other two have a few so I'm going into them below the cut if anyone wants to know lol

NPMD: It's meant to be Grace's locker (featuring her notebook, a cross, and her little whiteboard) but there's one item from each of the nerds as well. Grace's bracelet (the incriminating evidence), Peter's bowtie (under the gun), the dinosaur keychain from Ruth's backpack, the camcorder Richie used in the Waylon's place, and Stephanie's flannel. The gun and the Black Book are also featured because of this being Grace's locker.

The sticky notes on the door from top to bottom: "Cancel Home-C*mming" "Waylon place? Black alters? The lords in black?" "The Big Game" "Nerdy Prudes Must Die??" "Go Nighthawks !!!"

Black Friday: Just that the hands are Becky, Linda, and Tom but I think that's pretty clear. Also the box says "Rub my Belly-well". Idk this one has the least hidden details but it's probably my favorite. I really like how it turned out, especially the lighting on the Wiggly box

TGWDLM: It's the cup of poisoned coffee, that's really all. The tickets are for Mamma Mia! at the Hatchetfield Starlight Theater. The date was just a random Thursday in 2018, I would've done the date the show released on YouTube but December 23rd just didn't make sense for the timeline of the show lol. My intention was that the seats were Bill's and Alice's but idk they were also kinda random.

I've liked these musicals for years it's time I made high-effort fanart for them lol

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Who wears the pants. || husband!John Price

[MASTERLIST]

Rating: M Words: 3.4K without the extra!! (this one got away from me, I'm sorry.) Pairing: husband!John x wife!reader CW: quick smut!, yelling mentioned, slightly dubcon (if you squint), john got angry and jealous Tags: you/your pronouns, afab!reader, smut, fingering-ish, slight exhibitionism, love bites and marks, established relationship, jealous!john price, anger mentioned, ghost's stirring the pot. Summary: John is embarrassed of the fact you 'wear the pants' in your relationship... But only after the lads come to stay over and a snarky comment from Simon, does he decide to show you what's what. a/n: my first attempt at writing smut that I wanted to post... Also Ghost/Simon is a dick in this one...

John simultaneously is and is not ashamed to say how much he loves you. 

Of course, he loves you to bits, finds you the most stunning woman he’s ever seen, and would kill and die for you in a heartbeat. His love was the epitome of “If I ever were to lose you, I'd surely lose myself.”

However, he would never risk introducing you to his teammates. Not if he can avoid it. And not just because he cares about you and wants to keep you away from prying eyes, safe and sound in your family home…

More like… they don’t need to know how John purrs when you scratch his beard right beneath his chin and whisper sweet nothings into his ear. They don’t need to see how his pupils almost morph into hearts equally if he sees you in one of his shirts, or in your work clothes, or in joggers and a sweaty t-shirt, or a sexy little number, or nude…

And they especially don’t need to know that their tough-as-nails Captain figuratively rolls over and bares his neck in submission when in the presence of his wife… Or that your voice is like a goddamn foghorn making him genuinely quake in a way he hasn’t since he was a boy at Sandhurst, getting yelled at by drill sergeants… 

He hasn’t left the toilet seat up in 12 years. Hasn’t tracked mud into your shared home (whose floors you had just mopped!) in 10. Hasn’t eaten the last of your snacks or used the last of the tea bags without replacing it in 6. 

There is no weaponized incompetence in your home because you know John is not incompetent and you will not allow him to feign being it to make you his maid. You take care of him and your home, and you refuse to let him disrespect you in any way… And he knows better than to try.

His teammates have no idea how hopelessly in love he is with you. With the way you seize control from him in a way he allows no one else to. Not his soldiers, not the rest of his family. He’s been the ‘man’ of the house in all aspects for as long as he can remember… But that stops the moment he crosses the threshold of the front door, hangs his coat and his gear in the hall closet, and pads through the home in search of you. 

He always finds you busying yourself with something or other and you beckon him close like a puppy, with a pat on the chair next to yours as you work at the dining table, or a come hither motion of the fingers as you water the plants, or reach your arms out for a hug as you stand atop a ladder halfway through repainting the accent wall in the living room. He always hugs and burrows himself in you, inhaling your scent, basking in your warmth, leaving kisses and touches in every inch of exposed skin.

He’s not embarrassed of you, he’ll gladly shout out to the world about his love for you. But he’s embarrassed by how he acts around you. Soap and Gaz would tell him he’s “whipped” if they ever knew what you do to him. So he doesn’t want them to meet you.

But he doesn’t have a choice. December 23rd, at 11 P.M., he and the lads have just touched down from a mission. The weather forecast speaks of a rainstorm and severe weather warnings extending right over Christmas… And John knows what he must do.

So disgruntled, your husband walks off to his office and calls you. In a low tone of voice, almost hushed, because he woke you up, he grumbles about the storm, about how Soap won’t be able to drive up to Scotland for Christmas, that Gaz can probably risk driving to Birmingham, but it’s still pretty unsafe, and that Ghost, as usual, was going to lock himself in his quarters on base and drink himself until he passes out…

You don’t need to be told again. You spring into action immediately. You simply reply that you’re getting up and getting the guest rooms ready, asking if one of the lads would mind getting the pull-out sofa in John’s study, and telling John to drive safe, that the roads are dangerous with the rain… 

It’s midnight when you hear the front door opening, and the hall light turns on, flooding the space with a bright warm-toned yellow-ish light. “Shoes off, you lot. The missus doesn’t want water or mud inside.” He demands in a gruff tone.

As they go about unzipping coats and undoing their muddy boots, you can hear John still chastising them. “I’ll stress again: I want you on your best behaviour. No work talk, no cursing, no disrespect. The missus is doin’ you a favour.” He adds as if the poor lads are children who cannot be trusted to be polite.

Unbeknownst to you, he had already spent the whole drive over from base warning them about picking up after themselves, about being respectful to you, about putting the toilet seat down, about making their beds… reaming them out as if they were wild animals who had never once been inside a house and would break and dirty up everything they touch.

You move to stand at the step that separates the lowered entryway from the sitting room, silently observing them, arms crossed as you lean your shoulder against the wall, wearing a robe and your house slippers as you look at them.

They’re all taller than you, moving surprisingly efficiently and quietly, trying not to disturb the peaceful home too much. They’re dripping wet, probably from rushing from the car in the driveway up to the front stoop. A set of four backpacks or duffle bags are on the floor by the door, their clothes for the days they’ll spend here inside.

“Give them a break, Jonathan, you can keep bossing them around in the morning, love.” You quip and you immediately feel all their backs stiffen, four pairs of eyes glued to you.

“Hi, lovie…” John says, already crossing the small entryway to wrap his arms around your waist, dropping a deep open-mouthed kiss to your awaiting lips. Your hand touches his face, caressing his cheek over his mutton chops.

“Steamin’ Jesus, the Captain’s got taste…” You hear a voice murmur, followed by a sharp ‘ow, what was that fo’?’ which causes both you and John to look at the other soldiers. The offending man, the shortest, with a mohawk, rubs at his arm, which seems to indicate the tallest one on his left side smacked him into shutting his mouth.

You don’t need to be told who’s who to realize that it was ‘Ghost’ who smacked ‘Soap’, while ‘Gaz’ stands on Soap’s other side and shoots John an apologetic look. He told you everything about them, without ever revealing names or pictures, for you to know more about them than you should. John himself as his lips pressed together, his mouth nearly disappearing behind his mustache, as he glares at the lads (aka Soap) for making comments about you.

You quickly approach the three men. “You must be the lads my husband talks so much about!” You say with a chuckle. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet the men responsible for bringing my John home in one piece every time…” You tell them gratefully while shaking each of their hands with two of your own, your eyes shining a bit.

“Please, come in!” You gesture behind you into the home as you flick the sitting room lights on. “John, will you show them their rooms while I put the kettle on?” You ask your husband as you slink into the kitchen. 

A few muffled footsteps, created by socked feet, are heard as they walk inside, with John directing the boys to the different bedrooms (and study), and you hear a gruff voice murmur something about taking the pull-out sofa. You assume it’s Ghost.

Your husband then comes to hug you around the waist as you wait for the water to boil, dropping kisses to your temple and cheek, doting on you while his big, calloused hands squeeze at every part of you, your thighs, especially, but your tummy as well, along with gentle words. “I missed you so much, lovie…” “Thank you for doing this…” “You know, I can never sleep right without you in my arms…” “Just missed you so much…”

Five minutes later, you hear their steps coming back as you’re finishing pouring the water into a few separate mugs. Your husband dislodges his arms from around you. He doesn’t need the others to see he’s so crazy about you. 

“Your home is beautiful, Mrs. Price.” Gaz says as you set the tea mugs, the sugar, and the milk within their reach on the island counter. He takes one of the mugs and tops it off with some milk. The way the young boy calls you ‘Mrs. Price’ has nothing if not respect dripping from it. 

It makes you tingle on the inside, even after so many years, the realization that you’re John’s wife, John’s choice, John’s priority. Your husband preens himself a bit when he catches the look in your eye. He loves that you’re his, of course, but loves it even more that you like being his.

“Thank you, Gaz. I’m glad you like it.” You remark with a smile as you sip your own tea. Herbal, different from theirs, so you can resume your sleep which John interrupted with his phone call. 

“Aye, real cosy!” Soap quips from beside him as he slides up to a stool on the island. He doesn’t drink tea, so you didn’t prepare any, per John’s request.

“I hope the beds are to your liking… I kinda made them in a hurry.” You quip, which causes the boys, and your husband, to laugh, as they seat themselves across from you, in the bar stools. You barely even noticed Ghost taking the last cuppa and sliding up next to Johnny, his mask rolled up just enough to allow him to drink.

“We’re soldiers, ma’am, we’ll sleep anywhere,” Gaz told you, ever polite, with a sweet smile on his lips. John has told you all about Gaz, his protegé, of sorts, a respectful lad, the youngest, but one that has proved himself to be useful.

Your eyes flitter over to John for a moment, watching as he drinks his tea, two fingers laced through the handle of his navy blue mug, rather than around him, his behind leaning back on the counter beside you. While doing that, however, you miss the glances the lads exchange with each other, and then to you.

“As true as that might be…” You trail off after sipping your tea and look back at the soldiers again. “I still hope you have some good rest. And, I’m sorry about the pull-out sofa… it’s a bit old, came from John’s old apartment… Has gotta be a decade old now.” You quip as you look toward Ghost.

“It’s alright. I’ll sleep fine.” Ghost says. “Like Gaz said, we can sleep wherever.” He adds.

Soap nods along. “Anything’s better than sleeping on the ground with your rifle between your legs and your jacket folded up to serve as an eyemask.” He adds and laughs.

“Johnny.” Your husband calls out, chastising him. “No work talk.”

“Aw, c’mon, Captain, that hardly counts as work talk.” He retorts with a little boyish grin.

“Them’s the rules. No bloody talk about service.” John insists.

“John.” You scold him, and your husband stiffens next to you, his eyes flittering over to you, eyebrows scrunched and his eyes softened as he meets your eye… nothing short of a puppy.

It was stronger than John at this point, to respond to your tone of voice with nothing but a baring of his neck, not a baring of his teeth like he would with anyone else. The boys all noticed it, the way his shoulders sagged and his eyes looked at you with utter devotion.

“Let the boys talk about work. As long as it’s nothin’ too gory or confidential…” You trail off. “I’m sure I’ll enjoy ‘earing all the stories they have to tell about you at work... Right, lads?” You ask as you look at them again.

“Oh, we’ve got stories alright.” Soap says with a giggle and a wagging of his brows, which causes Gaz and Ghost to snicker under his breath.

“Well, then, regale me with them during Christmas dinner, ye?” You ask them, to which they nod along with smiles. You could swear even Ghost had one in the corner of his scarred lips.

After a bit more small talk, you kissed John goodnight, while he told you he’d stay downstairs and talk with the lads a little longer, so you waved at them while trekking your way upstairs, the boys once more thanking you for the hospitality.

The moment John’s trained ears honed into the fact the bedroom door has closed, he finishes his tea and glares at the lads.

“Don’t be bloody flirtin’ with my wife.” He tells Soap directly, though his comment extends to Gaz and Ghost as well, which is why he glances to both sides at the other two.

“Sir?” Gaz asks while blinking.

“You ‘eard me, Garrick.” He adds and points a finger at the young Sergeant. 

“We’re not flirtin’, sir.” Soap tries to defend himself.

“Aw, that’s rich that there, MacTavish, yeah.” Your husband says bluntly.

“Weren’t flirting.” Ghost retorts as he looks at John. “I was more so interested in the way she has your balls in her little purse.” He adds.

Both Soap and Gaz turn to look at Ghost with eyes so wide you’d think he just tried to kill the Captain directly… and he might as well have, the way John choked on nothing and started coughing up a lung.

The other two are trying to muffle their chuckles and hide their smirks as Simon continues. “Don’t give me that look, boss. We all saw it. Pretty thing might as well be walking you around on a lead.”

“Nonsense.” John says defensively as he snatches the cups of tea from the island and turns to deposit them all in the kitchen sink. He starts washing them quickly, shoulders stiffened.

“Bunk down.” John demands. “We’ve got plenty to do tomorrow.” He adds. The light screeching of bar stools being pulled back and pushed back into place is heard, as the boys vacate the kitchen with curt ‘Goodnight, sir’ murmured before they headed upstairs as well.

“Balls in her bloody purse, my arse.” John grumbles under his voice as he finishes doing the dishes, drying his hands, and then setting them on the island across from him, head hung in shame.

He knows Simon’s right. Hell, he revels in the fact you’ve got metaphorical balls of steel to confront him, to steal control right from under him, to wear the pants in the relationship. Lord knows it took him years to meet a woman who could not only keep up with him but put him in his place…

So why does it embarrass him so to hear them snicker at that fact? Why does it annoy him to look weak for you in front of his men? Why does it anger him that he loves to be weak for you?

Those are the thoughts in his head as he turns off the sitting room and kitchen lights and marches upstairs... And as he approaches your bedside in the dark, pulling the covers out from atop of you, exposing your body to him.

Under that robe you came to welcome them in, you were only wearing one of his t-shirts and no pants whatsoever, which he had peeped by the way your bare legs had shown through the slit between the two sides of the fabric whenever you walked.

“John?” You ask him in surprise, his breath is a bit ragged, more so huffing like a bull through his nose, as he grabs you and pulls you up into his arms, only to drop you on the bed further in the middle of the bed.

The giggle that escaped you when he did so annoyed him even more. He’s angry, pissed that he had been humiliated in front of his men, that you had humiliated him by merely existing and going about your relationship with him the way you always did…

So why are you giggling? Is he really that weak for you that you’ve grown to not fear his anger?

He grabs the hem of his shirt and yanks it up and over your head, tossing it to the side before he attacks your neck with nothing but kisses and bites, his hands touching your naked body, rough skin dragging over every inch of the softness he has left on display.

“John!” You giggle some more as he keeps touching and kissing you, his body weighing down on yours, your legs parted to accommodate him. “We can’t… We have guests!” You try to negotiate as his fingers dig into the pudge of your thighs and slide around to grip a greedy handful of your ass.

You still haven’t spotted the anger in him… And, as such, your playful attempts at negotiating postponing sex only annoy him more. You’re still trying to call the shots…

His left hand wraps around your face, quieting you with a strong palm holding your lips, his fingers digging into your jaw on either side. “You’re mine.” That’s all he says as his fingers continue exploring your body.

“You think you can embarrass me like that in front of the blokes?” He asks you in a whisper as his teeth catch your earlobe and suck and bite at it. “Hm?” He beckons, his tone aggressive. “Make me look like a big girl’s blouse in front of my subordinates?” He continues.

A shiver runs down your spine as his free hand wraps around the waistband of your underwear and yanks it off, down your legs, tossing them to a random spot, barely giving you time to react before his fingers drag up your thigh.

“You think you’re oh-so-box-clever, innit?” He asks you as his fingers slowly drag across your slit, finding your clit effortlessly, years of practice aiding in his torturing of you. You find yourself moaning and sighing against his hand, hips stuttering a bit, your feet looking for a perch at the edge of the bed so you can rub yourself into his hand.

“Walking around in just my shirt and those knickers and stupid bloody robe, making my boys see how lucky I am to have you, make them jealous… Only to embarrass me, make me look weak…” He trails off and tuts loudly, his tongue clicking disdainfully.

The things he’s saying make no sense to you. You didn’t try to seduce his friends, and you sure as hell didn’t try to embarrass him! It’s just the way you always act around him, around the house. He’s never complained, in fact, he’s praised you plenty of times for being ‘perfect’ for him… So where did this change of his come from?

Frankly, you don’t know, but you don’t care… It has been weeks since you were last together, sure, but you know that’s not the main reason why you’re loving this. The unbridled rage in his voice, combined with the way his experienced fingers touch your body, is making you feel things John’s never made you feel before. Your mind is clear of nothing if not a pang of hunger for him, your hands gently pawing at his shoulders atop his charcoal grey t-shirt, soft whimpers muffled by the hard palm pressing you into silence, into submission.

“I’m afraid I’ve let you gone unchecked for too long, lovie...” He grunts in your ear as his fingers draw circles against your clit, the rough pads catching at the throbbing bud, making you whine and whimper, your whole body shuddering against him. “I’m going to fix that attitude of yours...” He clicks his tongue again, sounding all the more annoyed.

“Now you’re going to be good f’r me…” He says as he uncovers your mouth, his hand, wet with saliva, slipping from atop your mouth to grab your wrists and pin them above your head, flush to the mattress. “And make the lads know exactly who’s in charge in here. Clear their doubts...”

[MASTERLIST]

extra: 500 words-ish

The next morning, you wake up before John, as usually tends to happen when he comes back from a mission. The silence and lack of stress, the warmth of you in his arms, the cosy atmosphere of the house… It’s all the perfect sedative to keep him as good as dead for many, many hours. You slip out of his embrace and check the clock… it was just past 9 A.M. You pad quietly to the hall bathroom after fishing out a change of clothes from the wardrobe, and rinse off the sweat from the night before, as well as the dried slick and cum between your thighs. You’re still unstable on your feet, your thighs and the space between them deliciously sore, your body covered in marks of the night you spent in your husband’s arms… You feel like you’re floating as you drift downstairs and into the kitchen…  “Fuckin’ hell!” You jump, startled. In your kitchen, pouring himself a cup of tea is Ghost… You think. The height seems about right, though you didn’t expect a broad-shoulder, bare-chested blond in your kitchen. “Good morning.” You say softly as you shuffle inside, hearing him return that same greeting in a way-too-deep of a voice, standard of man who’s just woken up. “Go put a shirt on, this isn’t the beach.” You scold him, as you open the fridge, looking for the eggs. Your voice is as fierce as it usually tends to be with John. When he doesn’t reply, you look over at him, noticing his mask is missing. You assume John scolded him about it, how you’d likely be startled by seeing a masked man in the night. The look in Ghost’s eyes is unreadable, stern, unwavering, and eerily calm, as if he’s seeing through you. They flit over you, up and down, with a certain glint you can’t quite decipher. You straighten your back in the face of his look, portraying nothing if not confidence. Ghost leans against the counter, one hand holding his tea cup and sipping from it, the other resting on the counter to support his weight, before one of his eyebrows shoots up. “Nice night, huh?” He asks you and, immediately, you feel your entire confidence bleed out of you, your eyes widening like saucers. Of course he heard it… You’re sure all the lads heard you, especially considering John and you started right as they had gotten to their respective rooms to sleep, all of which were located in the same hallway as the master bedroom… It’d surprise you if they hadn’t… Hell, it’d surprise you if the neighbors across the way didn’t! The way John had you last night, crying out his name at the top of his lungs and making you apologise repeatedly for something you didn’t even do (on purpose) definitely leaked through the walls… Just like the shame you currently feel leaks through your pores. You turn away to fix your eyes on the fridge, too embarrassed to face him again after realizing he knows. Your brain rushes to find something to distract you, to hide what you feel… “Are you hungry?” You end up asking softly.

[koalayoo]

ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ, ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ɢɪᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʟʟ ɪ ᴄᴀɴ, ʙᴏʏ

michael kaiser x gn!reader

content: pure fluff for the most part, soft! bf kaiser, reference to his backstory, kind of cocky, better than my last fic for sure

author's note: wanted to write a good christmasy bday fic for him. bit late, apologies. not really proofread or beta'd. apologies again.

wc. 1.3k

Kaiser had never celebrated Christmas.

Christmas was also his birthday.

That means Kaiser has never celebrated his birthday.

This was what had become apparent to you in your relationship with Kaiser, when all the walls between you two had become bulldozed and you realised, yeah, this is the person I want to spend the rest of my life with. You had come to understand that with Kaiser’s upbringing and all that he would have probably never received a gift from his father. You wonder if at that age he knew what Christmas was.

Then you started tumbling head-first into a hole of unanswered questions. What would he have even done for his birthday? Was anyone there to ever celebrate with him? You knew how bad he had it growing up, you regrettably knew. Part of you wished you didn’t know how bad it was, hoped that sometimes his father grew to be lenient or that maybe the old women in town that would see him around knew his name. Knew him to be more than Michael “professional neighbour thief” Kaiser and instead as the kid he was. That was just wishful thinking though.

He had received gifts, which was expected. He was a pro athlete but he also had Ness from the age of 15 who had most definitely gifted him something you assumed but weren’t privy to the details. However, he hadn’t celebrated. Hadn’t experienced true Christmas joy. He doesn’t know the feeling of waking up early and ripping open the wrapping paper on specially curated gifts that sit under the tree you both decorated together. Hasn’t felt what it’s like making cookies with the radios ruffled Christmas carols sputtering in the background. Wearing matching sweaters while watching stupidly predictable themed rom coms. Making a wreath to put on the front door. Kissing under the mistletoe. Ughhh, there was so much you needed to show him.

So, you did just that.

As soon as December started, you did your utmost best to get him into the festive spirit.

On the 1st, you brought home a tree and excitedly decorated it with Kaiser. Putting various coloured ornaments on, some the typical solid coloured balls, others with stripes and patterns, differing sizes, differing shapes. Then, Kaiser had placed you on his shoulders so that you could place the star on the tippity top despite your insistence it be him.

On the 5th, you went shopping with two very important things in mind. A wreath, and some ugly sweaters. On the way you slipped in some ingredients for cookies too.

On the 14th, you had started wrapping some presents. You had both agreed 3 presents was a good amount to give one another but you couldn’t help but feel a gnaw at the back of your head. It was also his birthday, you just had to double it.

On the 17th, you had put the wreath up which welcomed him home from a long day at practice.

On the 22nd, you had finally worn the sweaters which you had taken a polaroid of before promptly taking them off, sweltering from the heat of the oven that was baking the cookies you both had put hours into making. Later that night, bad christmas movie #1 was watched.

The 23rd and 24th followed a similar routine. Jam out to a different song before you got sick of it and watch another bad christmas movie. 

Then, it was the day.

All the extra presents you hid from him were placed under the tree and you made hot cocoa for two. You had to work quickly, Kaiser was used to waking up at the odd early hours of the morning and there was no doubt he would feel you missing next to him.

Soon, he had stumbled down the stairs and was greeted with you wrapping a blanket around him. You had pulled him down onto the floor and planted a present in front of him, a chaste kiss pressed against his forehead.

“Happy Birthday, handsome.” You whispered softly into the air.

He had begun to wake up more and noticed the excessive amount of presents under the tree. He looked at the presents, then at you, and an eyebrow raised comically.

“And, Merry Christmas too, I guess…” You playfully rolled your eyes with a small smile appearing on your face. “Although that one’s of lesser importance.”

He sighs although he can’t help the small upwards tilt of his lips. “Thought we agreed on 3 each?” “Yeah, but it’s your birthday too! I wasn’t gonna be one of those people, ya know? The ones who just say the Christmas presents are also their birthday presents. You deserve to be celebrated twice.” 

“Yeah but-” And you briefly cut him off because if there was one thing you knew about Kaiser which was wrapped behind layers just like the presents was this feeling of foreboding. That he didn’t deserve this. However, your job as his brilliant partner was to teach him to sit there and take it.

So you started to celebrate, taking turns ripping the presents you both put love and care into wrapping. For every 2 gifts Kaiser opened, you opened one of yours in tandem. You giggled seeing him get you exactly what you wanted and teased him when a small blush appeared on his face when he got the same.

Although, there was one last present you wanted to give him.

A house full of love.

You wanted him to learn this holiday season that you were truly never leaving. Not like his mother, or even his begrudging father. That you were full of love for him and everything that came with choosing him. The arguments, the boundaries, the fear; you couldn’t fix it but you could help and that’s the sentiment you hoped to get across.

Later that day when you finished putting your gifts away and throwing the egregious amount of wrapping paper, you enter the living room to see Kaiser plotting. 

Before you can fully enter he spits out, “Stay right there.” You murmur in acknowledgement and stay put, eyes trailing the figure that is walking towards you suspiciously, one hand placed firmly behind him. You shoot him a questioning look to which he shakes his head, not budging.

“Should invite Ness over.” 

“Why would we do that?” He questions. “Fine with just me and you here, no?”

“Season of forgiveness, champ. Do I need to teach you how to be a good friend too?”

He’s stalked all the way over to you now. He towers above you and the hand he isn’t hiding comes to hold the top of the frame, leaning down towards you. His shirt lifts a little. You look. Then you look back at your boyfriend who has leaned in even closer.

His nose nudges against yours and you knew this was one of his ways of trying to assert dominance with the way a small brazen smirk made its way to his face. Could this guy try not to be a dick for one day? You notice the way his lips brush against yours slightly and you sigh, trying not to be pulled in.

“Answer?”

“Mmm, I’ll think about it?” He chuckles and leans in to swoop your lips against his in a passionate kiss. It didn’t last long because his smile broke the seal between you two apart. His eyes have a gleam in them and they flick up causing you to do the same.

Oh. 

A mistletoe.

“When did you learn about this one?” You whisper softly, genuinely curious.

“I had a tough childhood, doesn’t mean I lived under a rock.” He laughs again, this time more joyfully. You’re not sure whether it’s the fact that he successfully tricked you or that you truly rendered him this clueless.

Then, there’s a knock at the door. You see the sliver of magenta hair through the window panels near the door before you hear him.

Oh.

Maybe Kaiser doesn’t need you to guide him after all.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! Title is from December by Ariana Grande. Thanks for reading!

[annebd]

winter warmers, day 16: secret santa. ~1800 words <-holy shit.

There’s a little box on the corner of Daniel’s desk, wrapped neatly in green paper and topped with a gold bow. The tag is a small square card, no more than a couple inches across, with a short message on one side:

To: Daniel

From: Your Secret Santa

Daniel opens the box and unfolds the carefully wrapped tissue paper bundle inside to remove the expected Scrabble tile. Today is the letter H. He tucks it into the top drawer of his desk, along with the rest of the tiles. The bow is also gently removed and stuck up on the pinboard next to the other twenty-two bows that he’s gotten so far this month. Some are gold, some silver, a few red and green.

There’s one particularly sparkly bow that’s been shedding glitter on him and all of his possessions for the past week. Halfway through the marketing team meeting last Thursday, Max reached over and brushed his thumb across Daniel’s cheekbone.

“You are all shiny, Daniel,” he said and showed him the sparkles of golden glitter that he’d rubbed off. “Always you’re so handsome, but today you’re like a shining star, too.”

Daniel was pretty sure he’d turned bright red, not even the deep tan in the middle of an Australian summer able to hide the color rising in his cheeks.

“Oh, uh, thanks, mate,” he replied and then turned back to the meeting on the last marketing push for Christmas sales, while trying not to think about the feeling of Max’s hand against his skin.

Today’s bow isn’t quite as glittery, but it does glint prettily in the glow of Daniel’s desk lamp. It’s 8:52am on December 23rd. Early enough that he has time to sip his coffee without interruption for a few minutes as he waits for his computer to boot up and he has to hop into the workday.

He eyes the drawer that holds the Scrabble tiles and decides he’s got time. As he’s done so many times so far this month, he pulls them all out and scatters them across his desk. Twenty three tiles so far. One of them is a blank, but a little question mark has been drawn on in black sharpie.

The ? tile showed up on the 17th, and he assumed that that was the end of it, so he’d spent the entire day trying to unscramble the letters, but couldn’t get anywhere. When another N arrived the next day, he realized that it wasn’t quite over yet.

The first box had arrived on the first of December. He wasn’t expecting it. George, over in operations, had floated the idea of doing a Secret Santa exchange a few weeks prior, but there had been so much hemming and hawing, with no one really wanting to commit, that he’d given up and moved on. Daniel hadn’t given it any further thought until the first box showed up.

Like every day since, the little box was wrapped inexpertly, though neatly, with green paper, and had a red bow stuck right on top. The same note, from “your secret Santa,” was attached. The Scrabble tile that day had been a D. Daniel assumed it stood for Daniel and that someone was either playing a silly joke, or truly had the worst taste in gift giving.

That assumption was only further confirmed on the second, when another box arrived, containing an R, which he could only assume stood for Ricciardo.

Thoroughly confused, he stopped by George’s office to poke his head in the door and ask when the Secret Santa drawing had been and why he hadn’t been involved.

“There was no drawing, mate,” George told him. “You lot were all too cool for the idea, so I didn’t bother. Why d’you ask?”

“Huh,” Daniel said, flummoxed. “Never mind. Don’t worry about it.”

He brought it up to Max when they had lunch that Friday. It was Daniel’s favorite part of the week- getting Max all to himself for an hour, to make ridiculous jokes and watch Max turn pink from laughter.

“Strange, isn’t it? Just a random couple of Scrabble tiles. What, am I supposed to use them to make a name tag for myself?”

“Maybe you have a secret admirer,” Max replied. “And they are, of course, just using the Secret Santa as an excuse to send you gifts.”

“They’re some weird gifts, then,” Daniel said, and took a bite of his pastrami on rye. It was good. Mustardy.

“They might get better. It could be fun.” Max looked over at Daniel, who was in the middle of another big bite of his sandwich. “You’ve got a little-” and pointed to the corner of Daniel’s mouth. He reached out, as though he intended to swipe away the crumb with his own finger, but he pulled back and let Daniel dab at his mouth with a napkin.

“Thanks, Max. And I guess you’re right. But I reserve the right to be annoyed if it’s just a bunch of letters spelling my name.

Day three put a wrench in the name theory when he popped open the box and found a V. So definitely not his name then.

Over the next couple of days, he received a W and a Y. On the following Monday, he showed up to two Ls and another E, each tucked into one of three boxes lined up carefully along the edge of his desk. He’d wondered what would happen over the weekend, and he was quietly pleased that his secret Santa had taken into account the extra days.

And today, as Daniel sits sipping his coffee with twenty two letters and a question mark, he decides that he’s got to be able to figure this out. Christmas is in just two days, which means that he’s only expecting two more gifts. And really, he’s only expecting one gift, since the office is closed on the 25th, and he’s not coming in for anything- even a secret Santa surprise.

Daniel mixes the tiles around, trying different combinations of words. The twenty three tiles at hand read NOIVUHHTLEMIWARELDYNIE?, which he’s pretty sure isn’t a thing. He can spell various words. He’s got the letters for DANIEL, but not RICCIARDO, so he’s mostly ruled out his initial name tag theory.

He’s been able to make a few phrases, some more promising than others. He had “HAVE YOU LET ME DIE?” laid out when Max stopped by his desk last week.

Max had raised an eyebrow at the phrase and given Daniel a disapproving look. “You don’t think that’s what your secret admirer is saying, do you?”

Daniel shrugged. “No clue, mate. Your guess is as good as mine right now.”

Max didn’t offer any actual help, but he scrambled the tiles again so that the question was no longer visible. “I don’t know either, but probably it isn’t about death.”

Daniel tries a few more letter combos, but nothing is jumping out at him. As the clock on his desktop ticks over to 9:00, he gathers up the tiles and places them back into his drawer.

When he heads out of the office that afternoon, he bumps into Max in the elevator. “You’re wrapping up early today!” he exclaims.

Max is always staying late at the office, and Daniel is forever trying to get him to leave on time, have a life outside of work. But Max insists that software engineering waits for no man, and he’d rather just get as much work done in the office as possible, instead of having to take it home with him and continue with it there.

“Hello, Daniel,” Max says. “Yes, today is an early night. I have some things to do today. Before Christmas, you know.”

“I’m glad,” Daniel replies. “See you tomorrow?”

Max gives him a big smile. “Yes. Tomorrow. See you then.”

The next day is Christmas Eve, and, Daniel assumes, the last day of his Secret Santa gifts. He still has no clue what the tiles are supposed to be telling him, but he feels a nervous energy thrumming in his stomach. Something big is coming, he thinks.

He gets to his desk by 8:45, eager to unwrap his final gift and finally figure out what’s going on. To his surprise, instead of just the one little green box he’s expecting, there are three wrapped presents on his desk. The first is the usual green box, but the tag that he’s expecting to proclaim the usual salutations instead proclaims “open me first.” He checks the other two. The box to its right reads “open me second.” And, just to be sure, he confirms that the final box on the end says to open it last.

With a slight shake in his hand, he picks up the first box and plucks off the bow to secure it to the pinboard. He opens it up and pulls out the last tile, another W. He adds it to the stash in his drawer and then reaches for the second box.

It’s the same size as the first, wrapped in the same way- no bow on this one. Perhaps it’s a one bow per day kind of deal.

Inside, there’s a small slip of paper folded in half. Daniel unfolds it to find a clue:

W_ _ _ Y_ _ H_ _ _ D _ _ _ _ _ W _ _ _ M_?

He waffles for a moment. Does he open the third gift, or does he unscramble the letters? The opening instructions didn’t say, so he supposes he could do either. Tiles, he decides.

He pulls open the drawer and tips the tiles onto his desk, then carefully arranges each one face up and pointing in the right direction.

Slowly, he starts moving tiles around. The Y is probably You, he guesses. So perhaps the M is Me? And then H could be Have. W is What? No, he realizes; that wouldn’t make sense. W for Will?

A sentence begins to take shape.

WILL YOU HAVE D_ _ _ _ _ W _ _ _ ME?

Daniel is fairly certain where this is going. He arranges the last few letters into place and then reaches for the third box. He tears open the paper, carefully as usual, and opens the box.

Inside is a card, on which is printed the name of the fanciest restaurant in Perth, which Daniel has been wanting to try for months, but which he has lamented to Max several times is impossible to get reservations for.

Beneath the name of the restaurant is today’s date, the 24th, and a time, 7pm.

Beneath that, there’s a final line, which simply says “TURN AROUND.”

Daniel takes a deep breath, steadies himself, and then swivels in his chair.

Behind him, Max is leaned against the doorframe to his office.

“So?” he asks. “I asked a question, I think.”

Daniel looks back over the tiles, laid out neatly on his desk. He looks back at Max and grins helplessly. “Yeah, Maxy. I would love to.”

[thesewordsareallihavetogive]

I'll be home for Christmas - Bob Floyd x reader

Summary: 1.4k words. Your husband has been deployed for 5 months. The holiday season is in full swing and you’re missing him. This is my entry for @lewmagoo's holiday celebration!

Warnings: language? Pining, angst, fluff & some more fluff

a/n: I wrote most of this in one sitting LAST MONTH. aaaaand then finals season descended upon me like a hoard of rabid locusts. so y'all get this holiday fic now, where it's technically still Christmas in some time zones!

One hundred sixty-seven days.

It’s been 167 days since you last saw your husband.

Rather appropriately, the U.S. military wanted to ensure its service members and their families could celebrate Independence Day. 

July 4th at the Floyd household was truly a sight to behold. Penny brought half a dozen pies, Bradley’s family brought Carole’s famous potato casserole, and the rest of the squad brought beer. Lots and lots of beer. Phoenix, however, had more taste than the rest of the boys–as you had repeatedly told them over the years–and brought over your favorite drink to share. Natasha helped you and Bob decorate your humble bungalow early that morning and helped you with food prep throughout the day in anticipation of the 4th of July cookout.

On the surface level, the party you hosted was simply to celebrate the national holiday. It was arguably also a send-off party, given that half the aviators illuminated by fairy lights in your backyard would be shipped off to an undisclosed location less than 24 hours from that moment.

167 days is equivalent to 4,008 hours or 240,480 minutes, according to your recent Google history.

December 19th welcomed you with a cold embrace and increasingly painful longing. In defense of December and the holidays and all the commercialism you found yourself falling willing victim to, you kind of did this to yourself. At no point were you required to watch three and a half hours straight of shitty Hallmark movies over peppermint bark and eggnog. But you did, as was your right and freedom as an American citizen, you mused to yourself against the lip of the lukewarm mug.

Uncle Sam was not your best friend as of late.

Being away from your husband for five and a half months didn’t make for the most pleased military spouse.

You normally counted your blessings when you could. At least during this deployment, you were able to have semi-regular and reliable contact with Bob. Unlike some of his other deployments, the worst being the 10-week stints with no contact or details whatsoever. But now, as you watched the female lead–who looked like every other holiday Hallmark leading lady you’d seen today and yesterday and the day before and the day before that and–who left her impressive job in the city kiss her generically handsome high school sweetheart in front of their small town’s Christmas tree farm, you were not counting 4,008 consecutive hours away from your husband as a blessing.

Bob’s initial deployment orders ensured he’d be home by the beginning of December. Some classified delays that were above your level of security clearance pushed that date back to December 23rd. When Bob had the misfortune of sharing this news with you, he thought the Facetime connection had frozen from how long your jaw remained dropped.

The daily countdown displayed front and center on the fridge was reminiscent of a prisoner’s tally marks.

The second worst part of long deployments like these was the funk you’d fall into. You were a strong independent woman, dammit. But you were also a woman who was deeply in love with her husband. You aren’t ready to accept it yet, but you’re nearly certain this specific deployment has deepened some wrinkles and brought forth a few strands of grey hair.

“You are beautiful, my love,” Bob would tell you, sweet as ever, anytime your thoughts crept toward self-consciousness.

You were still young and hip enough to go out on a Thursday night, right? The thought quickly left your head as you inspected the old sweatpants you wore and the nearest clock reading well past 10 p.m.. Bedtime. You didn’t want to get up off the couch and do the dishes or fold the blankets or turn off the TV or do anything, but because you’re a responsible adult, you at least start the Sisyphean tasks.

A shrill ringtone emanated from the living room and you damn near tripped over said blankets while sprinting to pick up the phone before it’s too late. With soapy hands, you swiped to answer–unsuccessfully at first; the dish soap suds were evidently plotting your downfall–and were relieved to hear the signature soft static of the connected call.

“Hi, honey,” Bob greeted gently. He was tired, you could hear it in his voice and you knew you’d be able to read it on his face too.

“Bobby!” A grin brighter than you’d felt in days broke out across your face. There is comfortable silence just for a moment where the two of you enjoy each other’s presence. You know his time for phone calls is limited, so you cherish every moment. Even the quiet ones. You spared a glance at the time, knowing now that it is unequivocally past bedtime. Not that any concept of time mattered right now.

“What time is it where you are?” you ask him, prying for details you don’t have the security clearance for. You both know better, but he still humors you.

“It’s getting a little late…” he says smugly, scratching the back of his neck. It’s a nervous tick, one that you can’t see at the moment. You hum in response. He can rarely tell you any specific details about where he is or what he’s doing. After years of this, you still bug him. He will swear until the day he dies that his greatest pleasure in life is being bugged by you.

You tell him about the shitty Hallmark movies you’ve been watching. You catch him up on the drama with your coworkers. Bob doesn’t want any kind of drama in his life, but he does indulge in some gossip about people that he’s never met. You tell him about the weather, about the shelter pets you’ve almost adopted close to ten times now, but agreed Bob should meet the fluffy friends too before welcoming them to their forever home. He listens as you review the final touches you’ve placed on the Christmas decorations, highlighting the anniversary ornaments hung proudly on the tree and the row of photographs from Christmases past with any and every Santa impersonator the two of you saw out in public. Because it’s totally normal for two adults to have a collection of such selfies.

There’s shuffling on the other end of the line and you’re half-worried you’ve rambled the man to sleep and the phone slipped from his grip. He hadn’t responded in a while–he was content to let you speak, or maybe he was snoozing.

“Bobby?” You say softly, hoping to get his attention, but not wanting to rouse him if he fell asleep. He deserves the rest.

Before he can answer, there’s a knock on the front door. What the fuck? You’d certainly considered ordering a pizza for delivery as dinner part 2, but you hadn’t actually placed the order. Or so you thought?

“Hold on, Bobby. Someone just knocked on the door…” you trail off, hesitantly tip-toeing toward your home’s entrance.

“Huh. That’s weird,” Bob remarks. You peer through the peephole and your heart stops. The phone clatters to the floor–the screen might’ve cracked, but you could not care less–as you wrench the door open, revealing the tall, handsome man you’ve been missing for 240,480 minutes.

“I can’t imagine someone would come to the door at this hour. It’s a little late, don’tcha think?” He says cheekily. You all but launch yourself into his arms. You bury your face into his warm neck and can’t stop the steady stream of tears flowing down your flushed face. Bob squeezes you tight like he’ll never let you go. His glasses are crooked on the bridge of his nose from the force of your body meeting his like a magnet, but he couldn’t see anything through his tears anyway. Eventually, you pull back, gasping for air as your eyes dance wildly across every inch of his body, making sure he’s really there and you aren’t dreaming. The feel of his firm lanky frame dressed in khaki and the way he simply smelled like home confirmed that for the first time in a long time, you felt complete.

“You’re here! You’re home!” you squeal, capturing his lips in a kiss that would have your neighbors clutching their pearls. Bob smiled into the kiss, every second of it rich in love and passion and making up for lost time. “I told you, honey,” Bob begins, punctuating every few words with kisses across your face. “I’ll be home for Christmas.”

a/n: Happy holidays!! Reblogs & comments are much appreciated 🥰

Find more of my writing on my master list.

[cheritzteam]

[Mystic Messenger] Merry Christmas🎄 Happier at the End of the Year Because We’re Together, December 2024 Jaehee’s Celebratory Birthday Event

Hello,it’s Cheritz.

Another year has come to an end and we are in December. What kind of year have you had, dear coordinator?

It's been over 8 years since Mystic Messenger was released. Is anyone reading this who has been following Mystic Messenger from 8 years ago until the end of 2024? 😊

As the end of the year comes, there's a bittersweet feeling about the year ending, and we start setting expectations and goals for the coming year.

Perhaps due to the Christmas and year-end atmosphere with decorations everywhere, we feel more excited than usual.

In December, there's another important date besides Christmas!

It's Jaehee’s birthday, a woman who fits well with the warm and exciting atmosphere of the end of the year.

She's planning to spend a very special day for her birthday, so please check below for the details ~ 😉

< ① Jaehee’s Birthday Event >

Due to Christmas and the end of the year atmosphere, Jaehee spends her birthday feeling a bit more excited and thrilled than the others each year.

This year too, without fail, Jaehee's birthday has returned with the end of the year!

Jaehee will spend this year a bit more special than any other birthday, as she agreed to help with work at a cafe from an acquaintance's request.

While others might think it's too much to work even on her birthday, Jaehee was actually very pleased with this request.

As coordinators know, since Jaehee loves coffee so much, she's been counting down the days since receiving the request.

(From what I've heard, there's news about achieving record-breaking sales... ☕ If you're curious about Jaehee's cafe struggle story, please wait a little longer!)

Also there's a repost event on X for Jaehee's birthday. Among those who repost, 50 hourglasses⌛ will be given through a raffle♥ (15 participants)

Also, a Bonus Event⌛ is prepared to celebrate Jaehee's birthday! Use the hashtag #Happy_Bday_Jaehee to congratulate her birthday, and don't miss the chance to win 50 hourglasses through the raffle♥

Finally, there will be a discount event for some Jaehee related merchandise and a Special Christmas sale to celebrate her birthday, so those who have been hesitating to purchase, please make sure to grab★ this opportunity!

Cheritz Market Discount Period : December 23rd(Mon) 2pm ~ December 30th(Mon) 2pm (KST)

< ② In-Game Login Event >

During the event period below, you can check out Jaehee’s Birthday Commemorative Title Image when you log into the game! Enjoy the game with the beautiful title image and please celebrate her birthday too.

Also in December, hourglass login rewards are doubled to celebrate Jaehee's birthday and Christmas, so don't miss out!

Title Image Period : December 20th(Fri) ~ December 31st (Tue)

Jaehee’s Birthday & Christmas Login Reward : December 24th(Tue) ~ December 30th(Mon)

Did you receive our December event news well?

We would like to thank our coordinators who will participate in advance for the Jaehee’s Birthday Celebration Event and Christmas Celebration Event.

2024 is really coming to an end, and we hope that you'll shake off all your hardships here and have even more happiness in the upcoming 2025, dear coordinator! Thank you for staying with and loving Mystic Messenger throughout this year♥

Sincerely, Cheritz.

[marijmin]

Jaehyun dad!au drabble

Warnings: reader jae and their daughter being cute. SMUT. MINORS DNI

A/N: this is my first time writing cause I decided to participate on the secret santa event made by the amazing @leejenowrld and I got to write for @jaem4eva , hope you like it and I'm sorry? Also english is not my first language so there might have grammatical errors

The kitchen is chaotic. There’s flour everywhere, eggshells on the floor, chocolate powder all over the counter and your cat is trying to drink milk straight from the bottle. 

But you and your daughter are having so much fun. 

“Mommy, when will the cookies be ready?”. Your 4 years old daughter asks you while sitting on the floor in front of the stove. 

“Blink and you'll miss it”, you crouch down and bump her little nose. “Now let's help mommy clean the kitchen”. 

She promptly got up to help you, and that was the second part of the fun. You absolutely love to spend time with your baby girl, relishing on how smart and beautiful she is. Astonished about how she's a perfect mix of her parents. 

“Mommy! Mommy! Cookies are ready!”. Your daughter caughts your attention and runs towards the stove. 

“Be careful, it's too hot”, you warn and she stops, waiting for you to open the oven. You grab the gloves and carefully take the tray out, pulling in the counter away from your daughter's hands so she won't get burned.  

“Hope daddy likes the cookies”, she said dreamy. 

“He will love it darling”. 

It's December 23rd and with your husband Jaehyun at work, your daughter had the idea of baking cookies and making a surprise for her father. 

You just finished decorating the cookies when you hear the door opening. Your daughter runs straight to it, calling for her dad. Jaehyun automatically picks her up and hugs her, with a bright, albeit tired smile on his face. 

“Daddy, we made a surprise for you! Close your eyes!”, she puts her small hands in front of his eyes. 

Jaehyun exaggeratedly stumbles with her in his arms making her throw her head back laughing. You cherish this view, smiling fondly. They reach you, your daughter runs back to the counter while he greets you with a quick kiss. 

“Ta daaaa”, the little girl shows the cookies happily. 

“It's so beautiful and it looks delicious.” he praised her. “You did all of it?” 

“Yesss me and mommy”, she looks so proud and it makes you even more proud of her. 

“Good job”, he messes her hair, going to grab one, taking a bite. “Hmm the cookie is so good, that's my girl”, his big hand met her small one in a high five. 

The three of you eat the cookies in the kitchen. After, Jaehyun went to take a shower while you and your daughter waits comfortably on the couch, with 3 cups of hot chocolate on the living room table. When he comes back, you play games sitting on the floor for hours. 

Your daughter is so electric, talking nonstop about how much fun Christmas night will be since she's going to spend it with her grandparents. Your grandmother is sick and she wanted the whole family with her in her house for the Christmas party. So you, your daughter, Jaehyun and his close family will also grant your grandma’s wish. And your little girl is more than happy with that. 

When she yawned, you noticed it was her sleep time. You and your husband asked her to help pull away her toys. Despite whining and complaining she wasn't sleepy, her fluttering eyes told otherwise. 

Jaehyun puts her to sleep while you finish tidying up the living room. You're so distracted you got startled when you felt arms wrapping around your waist and a deep low voice in your ear. 

“Now it's just you and me baby”. 

You turn around in his arms, your hands going to the hair on his nape. “And what do you suggest we do?” You ask provocatively. 

“We're going upstairs to our bedroom and I'll give you an early gift that only I can”, he had that smirk when he knows he's getting what he wants. And he's about to. 

At your shared bedroom, Jaehyun grabs your waist pulling his lips on yours in a passionate kiss. His hands going under your shirt and then grabbing the hem to remove it. You both slowly undress each other, the clothes scattered randomly around the room. 

Jaehyun lays you on the bed, his body comfortably on top of yours as the kiss turns hungrier. His hands explore your body even though he has done it so many times. He runs his fingers through your inner thighs agonizingly slowly making you squirm and whimper. 

“Patience sweetheart”, he tuts, taking his time to reach your heat and when he does you let out the longest moan. 

He parts your lips and runs his finger up and down before inserting his index finger inside you, pumping slowly before adding his middle finger in. 

The room is dark, only the moon illuminates the place giving an intimate and sensual atmosphere. 

“You're so wet baby, all for me”, he whispers in your ear and you moan out loud. When he starts to pick up the pace, he stops and withdraws his finger. You whine, hating how empty you feel. 

“Patience”, he repeats, but this time strictly, emphasizing the syllables. Jaehyun kiss you hard, tongue fighting with yours, lips red after he pulls away to spread kisses on your neck, nibbling and sucking the area making you almost rip his hair off. 

He went down to your nipples, sucking one bud while squeezing the other, then inverting. His head reaches where you wanted him the most. He kisses your cunt before diving his tongue on your folds. You put your legs over his shoulder and arch your back. You feel your high approaching with how good he was sucking your clit, and he noticed it, he knows your body by heart. Moans and his name were the only things coming out of your mouth as you came. 

Jaehyun soothes you, giving small kisses all over your face as you come down from your high, his chin still wet. 

“You did so good honey”, he whispers softly in your neck, a contrast from his previous actions. 

“Fuck me please”, you managed to whisper. 

He groaned, grabbing the base of his cock lining up in your entrance. You moan as he bottoms out. Your walls so tight around him, you've been together for so many years but you still struggle to take him. 

Jaehyun thrusts slow but hard, so deep you feel him in your guts. His hands holding your hips so tight it will leave marks the next morning. 

“You're doing so good baby, you're perfect”, he praises you. You push him down and kiss him messy and hurriedly. 

“Oh god you're so big” you whine after he thrusted too hard, hitting the right spot. 

He holds both your hands on the mattress as he picks up the pace. You feel that familiar sensation in the pit of your stomach and screams his name so loud he has to kiss you to swallow your moans. He rubs your clit and in a matter of seconds you're coming again. Jaehyun comes right after with a deep groan. 

“I love you”, he says out of breath.

“I love you too”. 

You both stay cuddled until he carefully pulls out of you and gets up to grab a towel to clean you up. 

Now you're lying on his chest, his arms around you and your legs intertwined. 

“Do we really have to go to your grandma’s house tomorrow? I want to do this again and stay like this”, he complained. 

“It's just for Christmas night, cmon”, you replied lighthearted. Your family loves him and he adores them, even both of your families get along. 

“I know I know, I like to hang out with your family but I’d rather stay with you”, you giggle and kiss his pouting lips. 

“We have the rest of our lives for that”, you kiss him deeply, your love for him overflowing. 

You feel like the happiest woman in the world. You have the sweetest daughter, your reason to live, the little person you love the most. You have an incredible husband who moves worlds for you. And you wouldn't have it any other way.