#how to make christmas poinsettia

[planthouseandgarden]

How to Care for Poinsettias? All You Need To Know

How to Care for Poinsettias? Welcome to our How-To Guide on caring for Poinsettia plants, the perfect addition to your home’s festive decor. As the holiday season approaches, Poinsettias bring vibrant colors and elegance. This guide will walk you through essential steps to ensure your Poinsettias not only flourish during the holidays but thrive year-round. For a visual walkthrough, check out the…

[greekcookingmadeeasy]

How To Make Poinsettia Napkins For Your Christmas Table

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How to make Poinsettia Napkins for your Christmas table - Πώς να φτιάξετε πετσέτες "Αλεξανδρινό λουλούδι" για το Χριστουγεννιάτικο τραπέζι σας

BY: Greek Cooking Made Easy                          

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Check My YouTube Short Video: HERE

Κοιτάξτε Την Συνταγή Μου Σε Short YouTube Βίντεο, Το Λίνκ Είναι: ΕΔΩ

These elaborate but easy to prepare napkins shaped as "Poinsettias", the established, beloved Christmas flower, are made with just a bright red (paper) napkin and your modest creative skills. Although they are a small addition to the unquestionably extravagant festive decoration, they bring a touch of finesse and elegance to your Christmas table.

Tip: They can be used as the centre piece to decorate each guest's plate or to simply hold the bread.

Check my short video HERE and follow the simple steps on how to shape them. Try them and enjoy them.

Read more about the Christmas custom of Poinsettia flower below.

Πώς να φτιάξετε πετσέτες "Αλεξανδρινό λουλούδι" για το Χριστουγεννιάτικο τραπέζι σας:

Αυτές οι περίτεχνες αλλά εύκολες στην ετοιμασία πετσέτες σε σχήμα "Αλεξανδρινό", το καθιερωμένο, αγαπημένο λουλούδι των Γιορτών, φτιάχνονται μόνο με μια έντονα κόκκινη (χάρτινη) πετσέτα και τις μέτριες δημιουργικές σας ικανότητες. Αν και αποτελούν μια μικρή προσθήκη στην αναμφισβήτητα πλούσια Γιορτινή διακόσμηση, φέρνουν μια νότα φινέτσας και κομψότητας στο Χριστουγεννιάτικο τραπέζι σας.

Συμβουλή: Μπορούν να χρησιμοποιηθούν σαν κεντρικό κομμάτι για να διακοσμήσουν το πιάτο κάθε καλεσμένου σας ή απλά για να τοποθετήσετε μέσα το ψωμί.

Τσεκάρετε το μικρό μου βίντεο ΕΔΩ και ακολουθήστε τα απλά βήματα για να τις φτιάξετε.  Δοκιμάστε τις και απολαύστε τις.

Διαβάστε πιο κάτω περισσότερα για το Χριστουγεννιάτικο έθιμο του Αλεξανδρινού!

Information and History of Poinsettia - The reason it is the official Christmas flower:

Every season and every celebration has its own customs and traditions. In addition to the Christmas Tree, mistletoe and holly, another Christmas plant is the poinsettia or "Alexandrino" in Greek. This plant is popular worldwide in Christmas decorations and very popular in Greece. It has the characteristic red and green leaves, the most festive colors, and it is believed that its red leaves symbolize the blood of Christ and the white his purity.

It comes from Central America and mainly Mexico.

History & Legends:

Poinsettia was a very popular and important plant to the Aztecs from the 14th to the 16th century. They called it "cuetlaxochitl" and in their language it meant the "flower that withers in its purity". For them, its bright red colour was given by the Gods as a reminder of their sacrifices. They decorated their palaces with countless Poinsettias and from the red leaves of the plant they took the pigment and made crimson dyes for their clothes. The milky juice that comes out of the twigs was used as a medicine to treat fever.

There are many myths regarding Poinsettia. One of the most famous old legends is related to Mexico.

A little girl, Pepita had no gift to leave for the newborn Jesus at Christmas. Then, her cousin comforted her by telling her that Christ would prefer the smallest gift.

With no money for a gift, little Pepita gathered a bunch of weeds she found on the way to church. When she got there, she left the greens in the manger. Then suddenly, the greens were transformed into beautiful red flowers.

Since that day, they have been called "Flores de Noche Buena", meaning "Flowers of the Holy Night".

Starting from America, Poinsettia began its journey to the rest of the world and Europe about 200 years ago. After all, poinsettias got their American name from Joel Roberts Poinsett, the first American ambassador to Mexico (American physician, botanist and diplomat). In 1828, Joel Robert Poinsett while visiting the city of Taxco in Mexico, saw the crimson plants and, fascinated by their bright red colour, sent some cuttings to Charleston in his native South Carolina. That's how cultivation began and then the spread of the plant.

Today it is considered the most widespread plant worldwide during Christmas season. Each year over 300,000,000 plants are traded worldwide during the holiday season.

Imagine that in the USA on December 12th they celebrate "Poinsettia Day", which marks the beginning of Christmas.

Two secrets for its care, is that it needs light but not too much heat. Unfortunately, it is a plant that rarely survives after the holidays and even more rarely reblooms, requiring frequent pruning and special care!

 With excerpts from: https://www.bovary.gr/items/16816/poinsettia-i-alexandrino-o-logos-poy-apotelei-episimo-hristoygenniatiko-loyloydi

Πληροφορίες και Ιστορία για την Poinsettia ή Αλεξανδρινό-Ο λόγος που αποτελεί το επίσημο χριστουγεννιάτικο λουλούδι:

Κάθε εποχή και κάθε γιορτή έχει τα δικά της ήθη και έθιμα. Εκτός από το Χριστουγεννιάτικο Δένδρο, τα γκι και ου, ένα ακόμα Χριστουγεννιάτικο φυτό είναι το poinsettia ή στα Ελληνικά «Αλεξανδρινό». Το φυτό αυτό είναι δημοφιλές παγκοσμίως στις Χριστουγεννιάτικες διακοσμήσεις και πολύ αγαπητό στην Ελλάδα. Έχει τα χαρακτηριστικά κόκκινα και πράσινα φύλλα, τα πιο γιορτινά χρώματα για τα οποία πιστεύεται ότι τα κόκκινα φύλλα του συμβολίζουν το αίμα του Χριστού και τα λευκά την αγνότητά του.

Προέρχεται από την Κεντρική Αμερική και κυρίως το Μεξικό.

 

Ιστορία & Θρύλοι:

Το αλεξανδρινό ή ποϊνσέτια ήταν πολύ δημοφιλές και σημαντικό φυτό για τους Αζτέκους από τον 14ο έως 16ο αιώνα. Το αποκαλούσαν «cuetlaxochitl» και στη γλώσσα τους σήμαινε το «λουλούδι που μαραίνεται στην αγνότητα του». Γι’ αυτούς, το έντονο κόκκινο χρώμα του, είχε δοθεί από τους Θεούς ως υπενθύμιση των θυσιών τους. Διακοσμούσαν τα παλάτια τους με άπειρα αλεξανδρινά και από τα κόκκινα φύλλα του φυτού έπαιρναν την χρωστική ουσία και έφτιαχναν κατακόκκινες βαφές για τα ρούχα τους. Τον γαλακτώδη χυμό που βγαίνει από το κλωνάρια, τον χρησιμοποιούσαν ως φάρμακο για την θεραπεία του πυρετού.

Υπάρχουν πολλοί μύθοι όσον αφορά το Αλεξανδρινό. Ένας από τους πιο γνωστούς παλιούς θρύλους σχετίζεται με το Μεξικό.

Ένα κοριτσάκι, η Pepita δεν είχε δώρο να αφήσει για τον νεογέννητο Ιησού στις γιορτές των Χριστουγέννων. Τότε, ο εξάδελφός της την παρηγόρησε λέγοντάς της ότι ο Χριστός θα ήθελε το πιο μικρό δώρο.

Χωρίς χρήματα για δώρο, η μικρή Pepita μάζεψε ένα μπουκέτο αγριόχορτα που βρήκε στον δρόμο προς την εκκλησία. Όταν έφτασε εκεί, άφησε τα χόρτα στην φάτνη. Τότε ξαφνικά, τα χόρτα μεταμορφώθηκαν σε πανέμορφα κόκκινα λουλούδια.

Από εκείνη την ημέρα, ονομάζονται «Flores de Noche Buena», δηλαδή «Λουλούδια της Άγιας Νύχτας».

Με αφετηρία την Αμερική, το Αλεξανδρινό ξεκίνησε το ταξίδι του στον υπόλοιπο κόσμο και στην Ευρώπη πριν 200 περίπου χρόνια. Τα poinsettia ά��λωστε πήραν το αμερικάνικο όνομά τους από τον Joel Roberts Poinsett, τον πρώτο Αμερικανό πρέσβη στο Μεξικό (Αμερικανός ιατρός, βοτανολόγος και διπλωμάτης). Το 1828, ο Joel Robert Poinsett ενώ είχε επισκεφθεί την πόλη Taxco στο Μεξικό, είδε τα κατακόκκινα φυτά και γοητευμένος από το λαμπερό κόκκινο χρώμα τους, έστειλε μερικά μοσχεύματα στο Τσάρλεστον στην πατρίδα του την Νότια Καρολίνα. Έτσι άρχισε η καλλιέργεια και η εξάπλωσή του φυτού.

Πάντως σήμερα θεωρείται το πιο διαδεδομένο φυτό παγκοσμίως κατά την εορταστική περίοδο των Χριστουγέννων. Κάθε χρόνο πάνω από 300.000.000 φυτά διακινούνται παγκοσμίως την περίοδο των εορτών .

Για να φανταστείτε, στις ΗΠΑ στις 12 Δεκεμβρίου γιορτάζουν την «Poinsettia Day» «ημέρα της ποϊνσέτιας», δηλαδή του Αλεξανδρινού, η οποία σηματοδοτεί την έναρξη των Χριστουγέννων.

Δύο από τα μυστικά της φροντίδας του, είναι ότι θέλει φως, και όχι πολύ ζέστη. Δυστυχώς είναι ένα φυτό που σπάνια αντέχει μετά τις γιορτές και ακόμη πιο σπάνια ξανανθίζει, απαιτώντας συχνό κλάδεμα και ιδιαίτερη φροντίδα!

Με αποσπάσματα από το: https://www.bovary.gr/items/16816/poinsettia-i-alexandrino-o-logos-poy-apotelei-episimo-hristoygenniatiko-loyloydi

[pandapetals]

Last Christmas

Last Christmas, Logan wanted to confess how he felt about you but after a misunderstanding he decides against it. Logan kept his distance all year until you confront him this Christmas about it.

logan howlett x fem!reader - angst, fluff, misunderstandings, inspired by the song last christmas by wham!, logan brooding and self-loathing, i imagined X2 logan, confessions, no y/n used, no reader description, not proofread-i got lazy

divider credit: @issyh3ll

Logan had never cared for Christmas. The twinkling lights, the forced smiles, the cheesy carols that spilled out of storefronts—it all felt hollow, a sugar-coated excuse for people to act like the world wasn’t a mess the other 364 days of the year. He used to spend the holidays as far from the festivities as possible, holed up in a dive bar or lost in the woods where no one would try to drag him into their forced cheer.

But this year was different. This year, he had you.

It had crept up on him slowly over the past twelve months—how you’d wormed your way into his guarded heart with your laugh, your quiet kindness, and the way you never treated him like some gruff, damaged thing that needed fixing. Though Logan didn’t have the words to say what you meant to him, the idea of giving you a gift, something that spoke for him, had latched onto his brain and wouldn’t let go.

So he’d spent the better part of the year waiting for any hint of what you liked. He’d browsed through shops he would’ve never set foot in otherwise, scowling at gaudy jewelry and glossy trinkets that all felt... wrong. Too shallow. Too shiny. Too unlike you.

Then one night, it hit him—the answer had been around his neck all along. His dog tags.

To anyone else, they were just scraps of metal, scratched and worn from decades of hard living. But to him, they were the closest thing to permanence he’d ever had. They’d seen wars, far-flung corners of the earth, and darker days than he cared to count. They were a reminder of who he was. And giving them to you… it felt like handing over a piece of himself, the one part of him he thought might mean something.

So he’d wrapped them—if stuffing them into a small velvet box he’d gotten from the mall could count as wrapping—and now he was on his way to find you. His boots crunched against the thin layer of frost coating the school’s courtyard, his breath puffing out in small clouds in the biting December air. He felt… nervous. A rare, foreign sensation crawled beneath his skin and made his fingers itch to light a cigar, though he couldn’t exactly do that while carrying your gift.

When he reached the door to the greenhouse, he paused. You were inside, standing by a table of blooming poinsettias, talking with Ororo. He hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should interrupt, but the sound of your voice drew him closer. It always did.

“I don’t know what to do,” you said, your voice carrying a nervous laugh. Logan felt his chest tighten.

“You could just tell him,” Ororo replied gently, her words muffled slightly by the plants and the glass.

Logan frowned, leaning a fraction closer.

You sighed. “I don’t want to make it awkward. What if I’ve read it all wrong? What if he doesn’t feel the same way?”

The air seemed to grow colder. Feel the same way? His heart dropped like a stone, though he didn’t know why. Maybe it was the uncertainty in your voice. Maybe it was the way Ororo hummed like she was weighing her response, which meant she knew exactly who you were talking about.

“He might surprise you,” Ororo said after a moment.

You gave a short laugh. “I doubt that. I mean, Logan? Come on. He’s nice to me, but it’s not like that. He’s probably just… protective or something. You know how he is.”

Logan felt like the frost had seeped straight into his chest. He’d been frozen to the spot before, but now his body felt like stone. Solid and immovable.

Protective.

You didn’t see him that way. Of course, you didn’t. Why would you? He was rough around the edges and scarred inside and out. A decent friend at best. And while he thought he’d been so damn clever choosing the perfect time and way to tell you how he felt, you’d never even considered it.

His hand closed around the small velvet box in his pocket, his knuckles tightening until the corners of the box dug into his palm. What a stupid idea this had been. A soft scoff escaped him—quiet enough that you wouldn’t hear it, but loud enough to carry all the bitterness crawling up his throat.

Logan turned on his heel and walked away, the sound of your laughter ringing out behind him, the gift burning a hole in his pocket.

Later that evening, Logan lingered near the base of the staircase, his shoulders hunched as he leaned against the railing. The faint smell of pine and cinnamon filled the air, mixing with the warm crackle of the fire in the common room. The mansion was alive with holiday cheer—laughter, the rustle of wrapping paper, and the occasional clink of mugs filled with cocoa or spiked eggnog.

Logan hated it.

Well, he was bitter and it sure didn’t help his mood. He’d spent the better part of the night trying to keep his distance from you, but somehow, you always found him. Like a moth to flame—or maybe it was the other way around, because even now, he couldn’t help watching you from across the room, your laugh lighting up the corners of the mansion like the damn Christmas tree twinkling in the main hall.

He let out a soft, bitter snort under his breath and shook his head. You were doing it again—making his heartache when he should’ve been smart enough to steer clear.

The sound of your voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Are you just going to stand by the stairs the whole time?” you asked, amusement curling the edges of your words. You approached him with a bounce in your step, your hands tucked behind your back.

Logan straightened, crossing his arms over his chest like he was trying to make himself smaller. “What else am I supposed to do?”

You tilted your head, giving him a look that was equal parts teasing and concerned. “You could try… mingling? It’s Christmas, Logan. Have a drink, crack a joke, maybe smile once or twice. You know, festive stuff.”

“Festive stuff.” He huffed out a laugh and looked away, the corners of his mouth twitching despite himself. “Ain’t really my thing.”

Your lips pursed, but the soft smile beneath it remained. “Yeah, I figured. Still, you’ve been sulking all night. What’s up with you?”

Logan stiffened, his jaw tightening. “Nothing,” he muttered, a little too quickly. “Just not in the mood for all this holly-jolly crap.”

You didn’t look convinced, but you didn’t press him either. Instead, you gave a small shrug and leaned against the railing beside him, so close your shoulder brushed his arm. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to keep you company then. If you’re gonna be a grump, you might as well have someone to grump with.”

Logan side-eyed you, his lips twitching again despite the weight on his chest. “You’re too cheerful for that.”

“Cheerful’s good for you,” you quipped, nudging his arm gently. “Balances you out.”

Logan didn’t reply, but the smallest of smirks ghosted across his face, and you caught it before he could hide it.

The two of you stood there in companionable silence for a moment, the noise of the party fading into the background. Your presence was… calming, even if it made his chest ache in a way he couldn’t shake. You didn’t push him for answers or force him to join the party. You just stayed. And for a guy like Logan, that meant more than words ever could.

When you finally moved to stand in front of him, his brow furrowed. “What’re you—”

You pointed upward, and Logan followed your gaze. His stomach sank when he saw it: a sprig of mistletoe dangling above you, tied with a shiny red ribbon.

“Oh, for cryin’ out loud,” he muttered, scowling. “We don’t have to do this. It’s a stupid tradition.”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with his gruffness. “Who says I mind?”

Logan blinked, the words catching him off guard. He stared at you for a long moment, searching your face for any sign you were joking. But you weren’t. There was no teasing smile, no hint of mockery. Just you, standing there with an expression so open, so patient, it made his heart squeeze painfully in his chest.

“…You’re serious?” he asked gruffly.

You gave him a small, encouraging smile. “It’s just a kiss, Logan. I’m not gonna bite.”

His pulse hammered in his ears as he hesitated, his instincts warring with the sharp, quiet longing gnawing at him all night. He didn’t deserve this. Didn’t deserve you.

But you didn’t pull away.

Logan leaned in slowly, his heart pounding harder with each inch that closed between you. But when he got close enough that he could feel the warmth of your breath against his skin, he shifted at the last second, pressing a kiss to your cheek instead. His lips lingered for a fraction of a second longer than they should have, and when he pulled back, his voice was low and rough.

“There. That’s good enough.”

You blinked in surprise, your hand coming up to touch the spot where his lips had brushed. Then you smiled—soft and genuine, the kind of smile that made his knees feel unsteady.

“Logan,” you huffed, your voice soft but insistent. “That’s not—”

“I’m not going to kiss you,” Logan cut in, his tone sharper than he intended. The words came out like a low growl, and the flash of hurt that crossed your face immediately made him regret it. His jaw clenched as he forced himself to look away, his hand instinctively dipping into his pocket to touch the small velvet box tucked there as if the feel of it would ground him. It didn’t.

You took a small step back, your frown deepening. “Okay,” you said quietly, your voice carefully neutral, but he could hear the edge of confusion in it, maybe even disappointment. It made his chest tighten all the more.

“That’s not what I meant,” Logan muttered, his throat tight. He couldn’t bring himself to meet your gaze, staring instead at the polished floorboards or the faint gleam of tinsel strung along the staircase. “It’s just… it’s a stupid tradition.” He gestured vaguely upward without looking, as though that explained everything.

Your eyes searched his face, trying to read him. “You didn’t seem to think it was stupid a second ago.”

Logan winced. Of course, you’d noticed. You could see straight through him. You always could. But the ache in his chest only burned hotter, louder, because no matter what he wanted, no matter how much he wanted to lean in and—

No.

You didn’t feel the same. Not the way he did.

“I don’t want to make this… weird,” he mumbled, the words feeling awkward and heavy in his mouth. He shifted his weight, his fingers still curled around the edges of the box in his pocket, his knuckles brushing the smooth velvet. “So let’s just forget it, alright?”

You studied him for a moment longer, your expression unreadable, before taking another small step back. That distance between you felt like a canyon, and Logan hated how cold the air seemed without you standing so close.

“…Alright,” you said finally, but your voice was quieter now, your smile dimmed at the edges. “If that’s what you want.”

Logan’s heart sank. That wasn’t what he wanted at all. Not even close. But he couldn’t say that. Couldn’t let himself say anything. Because what if you were standing here out of politeness, or because you thought it was a harmless, friendly gesture? What if you laughed or walked away if he told you the truth?

Still, the way you looked at him now made something twist painfully in his gut. You seemed… unsure. Cautious, even, as though you were starting to doubt yourself, and that was the last thing Logan wanted. But he was so tangled up in his own mess of feelings, that he didn’t know how to untangle it for you, let alone himself.

“Look, I didn’t mean—” he began, but you were already turning, folding your arms across your chest like you needed to shield yourself.

“It’s fine, Logan,” you interrupted, a bit too quickly. “I get it. Really. I shouldn’t have…” You trailed off, giving a small, uncertain laugh that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I shouldn’t have assumed.”

Hearing those words from you felt like a punch to the gut. Logan opened his mouth to say something, anything, but his throat locked up, and he couldn’t force the words out. Instead, he just stood there, frozen, watching as you took another step back.

You hesitated as if you wanted to say something more. Your lips parted, but then you shook your head, offering him a soft, strained smile before murmuring, “Merry Christmas, Logan,” and slipping away.

The sound of your retreating footsteps echoed in his ears, growing fainter with each step, and Logan was left standing there, the faint smell of your shampoo lingering in the air and the velvet box burning like a brand in his pocket.

He let out a sharp breath, his shoulders sagging as he leaned back against the railing. The sting of your words—I shouldn’t have assumed—dug deep, and for the first time in a long time, Logan wasn’t sure who he was more upset with: you for misunderstanding, or himself for not setting it straight.

“Merry Christmas,” he muttered, the words bitter and hollow as they fell into the space you’d left behind.

⋆꙳•❅*‧ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

Another year had slipped by, and Christmas loomed on the horizon like a storm cloud you didn’t want to face. The mansion had come alive with garlands of tinsel, glittering lights, and the faint smell of spiced cider wafting from the kitchen. Normally, you loved this season. But this year, you wished you could ignore it altogether.

Last Christmas had been…a mess. Awkward silences, unresolved emotions, and Logan—who’d pulled away until he felt like a stranger. You’d spent the better part of the year trying to make sense of what had gone wrong, but all you’d gotten from him was cold distance and the occasional gruff nod when you crossed paths.

Now, here you were again. Another Christmas. Another opportunity to plaster on a smile and pretend everything was fine. But the truth was, you weren’t sure you had it in you this time. This year hadn’t been kind to you—not by a long shot. A rough breakup, the stress of life at the mansion, and the lingering ache of last Christmas had left you feeling worn thin.

You sighed, staring at your reflection in the fogged-up window of your room. Outside, the mansion grounds were covered in a blanket of snow, the soft glow of holiday lights spilling across the frost like molten gold. It was beautiful. And yet, all you felt was tired.

Maybe you’d just skip it this year. Stay upstairs, hide out with a book or a blanket, and wait for the festivities to pass.

A sharp knock at your door pulled you from your thoughts. Before you could answer, Ororo’s voice drifted through the wood.

“Don’t even think about skipping this party,” she said, her tone lightly scolding but gentle enough to make you crack a small smile.

You opened the door to find her standing there, arms crossed, one brow raised in challenge.

“’Ro,” you began, sighing. “I don’t think—”

“Nope.” She cut you off with a shake of her head. “I don’t want to hear it. I know you’ve had a rough year, and I know you’re not in the mood, but you can’t hide away forever. Come downstairs. Just for a little while. If it’s awful, I promise I’ll sneak you back up here myself.”

Her smile was warm, but there was a glint of determination in her eyes that told you she wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

You hesitated. “I don’t know, ‘Ro. I just—”

“You need this,” she said softly, placing a hand on your arm. “We all do. And who knows? Maybe it’ll be better than you think.”

Her words lingered, nudging at something deep inside you. Finally, you relented with a small sigh. “Fine. But if it sucks, you owe me cookies.”

Ororo’s laugh was light and airy as she looped her arm through yours. “Deal. Now, let’s go.”

The mansion’s common room was buzzing with life by the time you made your way downstairs. The tree stood tall in the corner, its ornaments glittering like tiny stars, while students and staff mingled, exchanging gifts and laughter. The air was warm and smelled of cocoa, cinnamon, and the faintest hint of evergreen.

It should’ve felt magical. It used to feel magical. But as you scanned the room, your gaze inevitably landed on Logan.

He was off to the side, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and his usual scowl etched deep into his face. He looked almost comically out of place amidst the holiday cheer, like a grumpy bear surrounded by elves. And yet, even after everything, you felt that familiar tug in your chest.

Before you could think better of it, you found yourself heading toward the kitchen.

A few minutes later, you reappeared, a mug of steaming hot cocoa in hand. You crossed the room, weaving through the clusters of people until you reached Logan’s corner. He didn’t notice you at first—too busy staring into the middle distance like he was willing the party to end through sheer force of will.

“Hey,” you said softly, holding out the mug.

Logan glanced at you, his brow furrowing. “What’s this?”

“It’s called hot cocoa,” you said with a small smile. “I hear it’s good for sulking.”

His lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. Instead, he hesitated, his sharp eyes scanning your face like he was trying to figure out your angle. “I don’t need cheerin’ up,” he muttered gruffly, though he reached for the mug anyway.

“Good thing that’s not what I’m doing,” you replied, leaning lightly against the wall beside him. “I’m just here to keep you company. Can’t have you scaring off the kids with that face of yours.”

Logan snorted softly. He took a sip of the cocoa as the two of you stood there in silence, watching the party unfold. 

“You’ve been avoiding this, haven’t you?” you asked after a while, keeping your tone light.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stared into the mug like it held all the answers he didn’t have. “Don’t see the point,” he finally said, his voice low.

You glanced at him, frowning. “The point of what?”

“All this,” he said, gesturing vaguely toward the room with the mug. “Christmas. The lights. The... cheer.”

You tilted your head, studying him. There was something in his tone—something heavier than the usual grumpiness he wore like armor. 

“Well,” you said, nudging his arm gently with your elbow, “maybe the point is that it’s not about all that stuff. Maybe it’s just about… being here. With people who care about you.”

Logan shrugged, his usual scowl still in place, but his eyes flickered. Something unspoken moved across his face—an emotion you couldn’t quite place—but just as quickly, it was gone.

“I guess,” he muttered, the words gruff and reluctant.

You huffed a small laugh, crossing your arms as you leaned against the wall beside him. “C’mon, Logan. What’s got you in such a grumpy mood? You’ve been like this all year.”

You weren’t sure why you were pressing him—maybe it was because you missed being around him, or the strange pull in your chest whenever you looked at him. Whatever it was, it made you keep going, even when he shot you a look that practically screamed drop it.

“Thanks for the cocoa,” he said abruptly, his tone dismissive as he pushed away from the wall and headed toward the kitchen.

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden retreat. “Logan—” you called after him, but he didn’t stop.

For a moment, you debated letting him go. He was stubborn, after all, and prying anything out of him was like trying to chisel through solid rock. But something about the way his shoulders hunched, like he was carrying the weight of the world on his back, made you follow him.

You caught up with him in the kitchen, where he stood by the counter with his back to you. The soft glow of the overhead lights cast shadows across the angles of his face, and you could see the tension in the set of his jaw, in the way his hands gripped the edge of the counter like it was the only thing holding him steady.

“You know if I didn’t know any better,” you said, leaning against the doorframe, “I’d think you were trying to avoid me.”

Logan glanced over his shoulder, but he didn’t say anything, his expression guarded as always.

You sighed, stepping further into the room. “Okay, fine. You don’t want to talk about it. I get that. But at least tell me what’s wrong so I can stop guessing.”

“There’s nothing to guess,” he said gruffly, turning back to the counter. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, sure,” you quipped, crossing your arms. When he didn’t respond, you rolled your eyes. “Alright, let’s see…did Scott say something to piss you off again?”

“No.”

“Jean?”

“No.”

“Did someone steal your cigar stash?”

That one almost got a smirk out of him, but he bit it back, shaking his head. “Just drop it.”

You ignored him, leaning against the counter beside him. “Is it me?” you asked, softer this time.

His shoulders tensed, and for a moment, you thought you might’ve hit the mark. But then he shook his head again, more firmly this time. “No.”

The sharpness of his tone made you pull back, but only for a second. You chewed on your lip, glancing down at your hands. “Well, whatever it is, you’re not the only one having a shitty year,” you said quietly, more to yourself than to him.

Logan frowned, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You shrugged, keeping your gaze fixed on the ground. “Just… this year hasn’t exactly been kind to me either, y’know? Between everything with the team, my family drama, and breaking up with Matt… it’s been a lot.”

Logan froze, his grip on the counter tightening. He turned to face you fully, his brow furrowing. “You and that guy—Matt—you broke up?”

You looked up, surprised by the sharpness in his voice. “Uh, yeah. A while ago, actually. I thought you knew.”

“I didn’t,” he said, his voice lower now, rougher.

Something in his expression shifted, and for the first time all night, he looked… uneasy. His usual mask of indifference slipped just enough for you to see the flicker of something else beneath it—something raw and vulnerable.

You tilted your head, studying him. “Why do you care?” you asked lightly, trying to make it sound casual, but your heart thudded in your chest as the question hung in the air between you.

Logan opened his mouth like he was about to say something, but then he closed it again, his jaw tightening. He turned back to the counter, gripping the edge like he needed to hold himself together. “I don’t,” he muttered, though the edge in his voice said otherwise.

Your brows knitted together, confusion prickling at the edges of your mind. He was acting strange—stranger than usual—and you couldn’t quite figure out why.

“Okay…” you said slowly, watching him carefully. “Well, for what it’s worth, breaking up with him sucked, but I’m trying, y’know? To move forward. To not let it ruin everything.”

Logan’s grip on the counter tightened again, the tension radiating off him in waves. He still wouldn’t look at you, and for some reason, that stung more than it should’ve.

“You should try it sometime,” you added softly, your tone half-joking but laced with sincerity.

He finally glanced at you then, his gaze sharp and searching. There was something in his eyes—something almost... vulnerable. But before you could figure out what it was, he looked away again, his walls slamming back into place.

“I’ll think about it,” he muttered gruffly, pushing away from the counter.

Just like that, he was retreating again, leaving you standing in the middle of the kitchen, the weight of his unspoken emotions hanging in the air like a storm cloud.

You sighed, watching Logan retreat, his broad shoulders hunched as the weight of the world had settled there. Whatever was bothering him, it wasn’t just the holiday blues. It ran deeper than that, buried under layers of that tough, gruff exterior. Pressing him hadn’t gotten you anywhere, but letting it go? That wasn’t an option.

Without giving yourself time to second-guess, you grabbed the empty cocoa mug from the counter, set them aside, and followed him out into the main hall.

“Logan,” you called, your footsteps echoing softly against the hardwood floor as you caught up to him by the staircase.

He paused, one boot planted on the bottom step, his hand gripping the banister. He didn’t turn around at first; he just stood there, shoulders stiff, his head tilted slightly like he was bracing for whatever you were about to say.

You stepped closer, your voice softer now. “Are you really going to sulk your way through another Christmas?”

Logan exhaled a slow, measured breath and turned halfway to face you, his expression shadowed by the warm glow of the holiday lights strung along the banister. “Didn’t know you were keepin’ track of my Christmas habits,” he said dryly.

“Hard not to when you make it so obvious,” you countered, folding your arms. “C’mon, Logan. Just talk to me. What’s going on? Did I do something?”

That last question slipped out before you could stop it, your voice almost hesitant. It wasn’t the first time you’d wondered if this distance between you—this quiet storm of tension—was somehow your fault.

Logan’s brows pulled together, and for a moment, something softened in his expression. “No. It’s not you,” he said, his voice low and rough, but there was an edge of sincerity in it that made your chest tighten.

“Then what is it?” you pressed, taking another step closer. “Because you’ve been acting… different. Ever since—” You stopped yourself, unsure if you should bring up last Christmas, the awkward tension that had hung over the two of you ever since, and the fact that you’d spent the better part of the year trying to piece together what had gone wrong.

Logan looked away, his jaw tight. “Doesn’t matter,” he muttered. “Drop it.”

“Logan—”

“Stop,” he interrupted, his voice sharper now as he glanced at you. “I’m tellin’ you, it doesn’t matter. Leave it alone.”

Your lips parted to argue, but the way his eyes burned into yours stopped you in your tracks.

The air between you felt heavy, you weren’t sure what to say. But before you could find the words, Logan’s gaze shifted. His eyes flicked upward, and his entire body went still like he’d been turned to stone.

Frowning, you followed his line of sight—and that’s when you saw it.

The mistletoe.

It was hanging in the exact spot as last Christmas, tied with the same bright red ribbon, swaying ever so slightly with the movement of the air. You stared at it for a second, the memory of last year crashing back into you: the awkward pause, Logan’s gruff dismissal, and the sting of his words—“I’m not going to kiss you.”

Your gaze flicked back to Logan, who was still frozen in place, his jaw tight and his eyes fixed on the mistletoe like it was mocking him.

“Looks like some traditions die hard,” you said, attempting a joke to lighten the tension, though your voice came out a bit shakier than you’d intended.

Logan’s eyes snapped to yours, and something shifted in his expression. Whatever walls he’d been holding up—whatever force had kept him restrained—cracked in an instant.

“Fuck it,” he muttered under his breath, so low you almost didn’t catch it.

Before you could ask what he meant, Logan stepped forward, his hand lifting to cup your face. His movements were rough, almost desperate, as he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.

The kiss hit you like a wave, crashing over every thought and doubt you’d had over the past year. For a split second, you froze, your heart hammering in your chest. But then your hands instinctively grabbed onto the front of his flannel shirt, pulling him closer as you kissed him back just as desperately.

Logan groaned softly against your lips, the sound low and almost vulnerable, and it made your knees feel like jelly. His other hand settled on your waist, rough and warm even through the fabric of your sweater, and he kissed you like he was pouring every unspoken word he’d been holding back into you.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing hard, your foreheads resting against each other.

“Wow,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Logan let out a breathless chuckle, shaking his head slightly. “That wasn’t how I planned that.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your fingers still gripping the soft fabric of his flannel shirt, your breaths mingling. His lips were still flushed from the kiss, his gaze softer now in a way that made your heart ache.

“Planned what?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, but you couldn’t stop the slight tremor in it.

Logan hesitated, his hands lingering on your waist as though he didn’t want to let go. But then, with a deep breath, his fingers left your sides and fumbled into the pocket of his flannel. You frowned slightly, watching as his usually steady hands moved clumsily, almost nervously.

“Last Christmas,” he muttered, his voice low and gravelly, “I wanted to—I planned on giving you this.”

From his pocket, he pulled out a small, worn velvet box. It wasn’t flashy; the edges were slightly frayed, and it looked like it had been sitting in his pocket for months. But the sight of it was enough to make your breath catch.

His thumb brushed over the fabric of the box, his brow furrowed as if he was searching for the right words. “I, uh… I was gonna give this to you last year. And, uh…” He cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable, his usual gruff demeanor faltering in the face of vulnerability.

Your gaze flicked between him and the box, your heart hammering in your chest. “Logan,” you said softly, “what’s in there?”

Finally, he opened it.

Inside sat a pair of dog tags—his dog tags. They were old and worn, and you’d seen Logan wear every day since you’d known him. But seeing them here, nestled in the box like some kind of treasure, made your stomach flip.

You stared at them, your mind racing to catch up.

“I was gonna give these to you,” Logan said quietly, his voice rough at the edges. “Thought… I don’t know. Thought it’d be a good way to tell you how I feel. Thought maybe you’d… I don’t know, wanna be my girl.” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head at himself. “Damn, that sounds stupid.”

Your eyes shot up to his, wide and stunned. “Wait—you were going to ask me to be your girlfriend? Last Christmas?”

He winced slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. That was the plan.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Logan hesitated, his jaw tightening as he looked away, his thumb brushing absently over the edge of the box. “I heard you talkin’ to ‘Ro. Heard you say somethin’ about me just bein’ protective, that you didn’t feel that way about me.” His voice was quieter now, almost like he was ashamed of admitting it. “Figured I’d read it wrong. Figured maybe I was just foolin’ myself, thinkin’ you’d see me like that.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach. “Logan,” you said softly, stepping closer, your hand instinctively reaching up to cup his cheek. He flinched slightly at the touch, but then leaned into it, his eyes closing briefly.

“That’s not what I meant,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I was scared. I thought you didn’t see me like that. I didn’t know what to do.”

His eyes opened, and the way he looked at you—like he was hearing those words for the first time—made your chest ache.

The air between you felt heavy like the weight of a year’s worth of misunderstandings was finally beginning to lift. Without saying a word, you leaned in and kissed him.

The kiss was slower, softer, but no less desperate. Your hands slid up to his face, pulling him closer as his arms wrapped around you, holding you like he was afraid you might disappear. When you finally broke apart, your forehead rested against his.

“I’m such an idiot,” Logan muttered, his voice laced with relief.

“You’re not an idiot,” you whispered, your lips curving into a small smile. “But you do have terrible timing.”

He chuckled softly at that, the sound rumbling low in his chest. Then, as if suddenly remembering, he held up the box again, his expression shifting into something almost shy. “So, uh… you still want these?”

You stared at him for a beat before laughing softly, your chest tightening warmly. “Of course I do.”

He let out a breath before his lips quirked into the faintest of smiles. Carefully, he took the dog tags from the box and stepped behind you, the metal cool in his hands as he reached around to clasp them around your neck.

“There,” he said gruffly, his voice softer now. “Looks better on you anyway.”

You glanced down at the tags, your fingers brushing over the engraved metal as your heart swelled. You turned to face him, your eyes shining. “You know this means you’re stuck with me now, right?”

“Guess I can live with that,” he replied, his smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, though his voice held an unmistakable warmth.

You laughed, reaching up to tug him down into another kiss, your lips brushing his as you murmured, “Merry Christmas, Logan.”

He grinned against your lips, his hands settling on your waist. “Merry Christmas, darlin’.”

[dcxdpdabbles]

#Holiday Request I love all your AUs so much, thank you for sharing them! I've been craving some Bruce/Danny lately, would you be willing to write more of Freelance Inventor?

Danny helps his mom set the foldable table, lining it up with their dinner table and the second one he had placed previously. Quickly cleaning off the surface with a wet rag, Danny ensures there is no dust before laying a lovely red tablecloth on it.

The red material nearly hides the poinsettia embroiled in the design in a darker shade of red. He runs his hands over it, smiling at the memories this cloth has brought him.

His grandmother passed it down to his mother after his parent's marriage. It was initially meant to be used for Christmas dinners only as per Fenton tradition. Still, seeing as his parents always turned that into a month-long argument, the Fentons started to use it as a Thanksgiving dinner decoration only.

He always brightened whenever his mom would come down from the attic saying the truck of unique Thanksgiving tablecloths. There were seven altogether, but it warmed him whenever he saw it.

Maddie promised to give the trunk to the first of her children to marry, and secretly, Danny hoped it would be him. His sisters liked Thanksgiving fine but not as much as he.

Thanksgiving was his favorite holiday. His family always cooked together, played games, watched movies, had silly little Fenton traditions, and it was just a time to be together.

Bruce and his kids would be coming over this year. Alfred had hurt his back and could not cook Thanksgiving dinner as usual, so Danny asked if the Waynes could join them.

Ever since their friendship, Danny has spent Thanksgiving in Amity Park. Christmas in Gotham and New Year would be a switch between them. His family had been fine with him splitting the holidays, but his Dad had been asking for years for the two to mix, and this year would finally be it.

Danny finishes setting the plates, knives and forks down. He made sure to fold the napkins into animals for the respected person sitting there. A peacock for Alfred, A butterfly for Bruce, an elephant for Dick, a robin for Jason, a bat for Tim, A dog for Damian, an octopus for Steph, a swan for Cass, a bunny for Duck, a bear for Jazz, a cat for his mom, a jellyfish for Dad, an owl for Dani and finally gorilla for himself.

Danny has his own trunk for Thanksgiving, having started purchasing solid linen napkins when he was seven. He uses multiple sizes and colors to make his animals, and when he's done, he can't help but beam at the colorful animals on the plates.

Except for Alfred's. His peacock is sitting inside his wine glass, the green and blue of his tail falling over his plate.

In the kitchen, his mom and dad are dancing around each other, wiping up a meal that, for once, isn't anywhere near ectoplasm. The pair had gone in beforehand to remove contamination and cleaned it out, claiming they wanted to impress Bruce's family. This means that their food will likely not come to life this dinner.

It also meant the Waynes would be mighty surprised by how good chiefs his parents are. In the privacy of his heart, Danny keeps the secret that while Alfred was good, he was nowhere near Fentons' level of cooking.

Jazz comes down from upstairs, looking dazzlingly in her black dress and perfectly done make-up. The Fentons always dressed to the nines for Thanksgiving, even if they only stayed in their living rooms.

"Looks great, Danny!" She says with a bright smile,e eyeing the table and smiling when her eyes land on her bear. Danny had used a white napkin to simulate Bearbert's lab coat. "Finished with the rest of the house?"

Danny waves his hand, beaming at the decorations he has set up. The entire first floor had miniature pumpkins scattered about on tabletop surfaces. The couch cushions had been replaced with light orange ones. Hung up around doorways and surrounded windows were red, brown, and yellow leaves fines, interweaved with sunflowers.

Small sunflower wreaths were also placed on the walls, and linking them together was a sheer red cloth that dropped into small hoops between them.

A few larger pumpkins were placed near the walls, and some fake leafy vines were placed on the ground to resemble a pumpkin patch pathway. Danny loved the multiple scented candles and small acorn lights he had looped around the edges of the furniture, turning off the other lights to make them pop.

It gave a homey but festive vibe that he knows the Waynes are unused to. The decorations for their Holidays were always large and expensive. Brought together by a team of interior designers who made everything look great, just slightly artificial.

Or maybe that was Danny's middle-class mindset.

The Fentons had money- with his parent's PhDs, Danny's freelance, Jazz's brilliant work, and Dani's photos- but they had always remained with a middle-class mindset, never going for the over-the-top shows of wealth the Waynes had.

Even the clothes he had on now made him feel like they were too much, despite having bought them himself. He was wearing his best suit, and Bruce took him to get tailored because heaven knows Danny couldn't tell what was considered good quality. Although they hugged his body in all the right places, Danny felt silly.

"Wonderful work as usual." Jazz's smile turned even larger. His sister considers the hung-up wreaths with a critical eye. Danny moved to stand next to her as she sighed wishfully. "Remember the year you learned how to make those?"

Danny laughs. "Yeah, you biked me to all the hobby stores in Amity Park because I was determined to make my own decorations and didn't understand why a seven-year-old couldn't walk alone."

"You threw such a fit about standing on my training wheels while I petaled." She snorts, shifting her voice higher to emulate kid Danny. "Jazz, can't you go faster! People think we need training wheels like I could ride a bike without them. I literally hit a tree the day before!"

"I was embarrassed people were seeing us 'cause I didn't realize how awesome it was for my nine-year-old sister to do something like that for me." Danny side hugs her. "You were pretty amazing growing up, Jazz. I'm sorry I didn't realize it as a kid."

His elder sister hugs him back. "It's alright. I'm sorry I was so stubborn as a kid, too. You were right back then. We could have just walked."

"Yeah, but then we would have missed out on bonding in the hospital when we went down Sisneros Hill." Danny laughs. " The matching casts were a good lesson for how breaks worked."

Jazz snorts, then bursts into laughter as the memories play again behind her eyes. Danny finds himself joining her, and his heart swells with love. Eventually, they calm down long enough for Jazz's eyes to soften at the small table with crafts supplies. "You're going to include the Waynes in the Danny's decor tradition?"

"Yup." Danny rubs the back of his head. "I figured we could do it after Dinner. Before or during Dad's karaoke."

Danny planned on having the Wayne children make their own wreaths to add to his collection. He hoped they liked it as it was a Fenton tradition he started with his family when he was nine.

The one above the little table was the first ever wreath he made at nine years old. It looked terrible compared to the others, but it made him happy.

Jazz hums "I'm sure they will love it. Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, what's up."

"What's going on between you and Bruce?" Jazz turns to him, crossing her arms but not looking judgmental. If anything, there is only curiosity in her voice. "You've known him for ten years, you're heavily involved with his kids' upbringing, and even though you always travel for work, you always make time for him and the kids. Are you two dating?" "

Danny blinked, taken aback. "I mean....Bruce means a lot to me, but I'm not sure we have that kind of relationship."

Jazz considers his response before carefully asking, as if worried her words will offend "Do you want to have that kind of relationship with him?"

The question causes him to pause. He finds his mind drawing a blank even if his heart leaps a little in his chest.

"I don't know. You know I don't really feel urges like that." He admits after a while, leaning back into the wall and picturing Bruce's face. It flashes with a warmth that he rarely saw the billionaire betow upon anyone else. But did that make him excited? Was it only for him? Did he want to do things with Bruce?

He wrinkles his nose at the thought of Bruce and him in bed, but the idea of kissing the other man isn't so bad. Unusual since Danny always found the action to be gross.

"I know you're asexual, but that isn't the same thing as being aromantic." His sister says gently. "You can want to have a romantic relationship with someone without the physical aspects."

"I guess I just never considered it." He admits after a moment of the pair standing there. His mind is whirling with the idea now. He thought that after ten years, he had never considered the idea that Bruce was something more.

But in a way, he was. Bruce had somehow turned into one of his most important people, always playing in the back of his mind, and when Danny thinks of happiness, he imagines the Waynes. When someone says family, it isn't just his parents and sisters; it's the rich man with a heart of gold, his butler, and his ragtag team of children.

Goodness. When did that happen?

"That's alright if you don't," Jazz tells him. She nods her head to where his parents are finishing the touches on the dinner. Dani had come down at some point- looking fabulous in her red jumper- and was helping Dad with the fudge. "They consider Bruce your lover, you know? Mom and Dad still struggle with the concept of asexual, so don't let them pressure you tonight. They will start asking for you two to set a wedding date, and although I talked them out of it, don't be surprised if they corner you later."

Danny thinks back to all the graduations, the birthday cards, the Christmas presents, and the random visits his parents would do for the Wayne children. It hits him then that they had been treating them like grandchildren since Dick was nine, and he wonders why he never noticed before.

No wonder Dad has wanted mixed holidays for years now. They thought they were grandparents.

The strangest part? Danny was okay with it if they saw the Wayne children as grandchildren. It actually made him feel warm and proud to be their son.

But that would mean they saw Bruce as their son-in-law, and Danny wasn't sure how he felt about it yet. He liked it, but he was scared of what it implied.

Why did his heart leap with joy? Why did he imagine coming home to Bruce? Why did he feel giggly and nervous like a schoolboy again?

Had Danny....been in love with Bruce for years and never noticed? Is this feeling the same as other people's when they like someone romantically?

Jazz observes his face, able to read him long before she finishes her psychology degree in profiling. She must see his thoughts because she reaches out to place a comforting hand on his arms. "Whatever you figure out, Bruce has been here for ten years. He'll be here for ten more, even if it's just as friends."

The doorbells dings. Dani bounces out of the kitchen towards it with a cheer. "They're here!"

Danny glances over, and his eyes catch Bruce's warm ones over his younger sister's head. His heart flutters as his friend gives him that unique smile despite Dani clutching him in a bone-crushing hug. His children are piled behind him, and seeing it all makes him feel like the luckiest guy on earth.

Oh gods, was he in love?

[onlyhereforthestories]

Mimosas and Friends (Alexia Putellas x Reader)

Day 19! I like the idea of this one but not sure I like how it has turned out. I am not going to lie i had to get some help with the secret santa gits and the mimosas!

The morning sun peeked through the frost-covered windows, casting a warm glow across your living room as you rushed between the kitchen and dining room, setting out the final touches for the Christmas brunch. Holiday music drifted softly through the apartment, mingling with the scents of cinnamon, warm syrup, and fresh coffee. You could feel the holiday spirit bubbling within you as you arranged a plate of croissants and pastries, making sure everything looked perfect.

“Need any help in here?” Alexia’s voice drifted from behind you. She appeared in the doorway, wearing a soft green sweater that matched her eyes, her cheeks slightly pink from the chilly morning air.

You smiled, appreciating her festive choice. “Yes, please! Can you bring out the fruit salad and maybe set the glasses? I think that’s all that’s left.”

She gave you a playful salute, grabbing the fruit bowl and placing it in the centre of the table, adjusting the dishes with a small jiggle as she danced to the music. Alexia had been excited about hosting brunch for your friends all week, even coming up with ideas for a holiday mimosa bar and picking out little decorations to give the place an extra cozy feel. The kitchen table was decked out with poinsettias, mini holiday wreaths, and sparkly gold place cards. You were so proud of what you had both done, it was simple, warm, and perfectly festive.

“Everything looks amazing,” she said, glancing around with satisfaction. “Do you think we went a little overboard with the decorations?”

You laughed, nudging her lightly. “It’s Christmas! I think it’s just the right amount of overboard.”

Alexia’s eyes sparkled as she gave you a quick kiss on the lips, lingering a little longer than you expected before pulling back. “I’ll start the coffee maker so we’re ready as soon as they get here. You know how much Mapi and Marta need their caffeine.”

Just as she pressed the start button, you heard the buzzer. Your friends had arrived, and the excitement of the holiday gathering filled you both as you headed to the door together.

Mapi, Caro, Frido, and a few more friends stepped inside, bundled up and cheeks flushed from the chilly December air. They greeted you with hugs and exclamations over the decorations, the inviting warmth of the apartment, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee wafting from the kitchen.

“Oh, this place looks incredible!” Mapi said, wide-eyed as she took in the setup. “And you even set up a mimosa bar? That’s it, you two are officially the hostesses of the year. And you must host every time, me and Ingrid well, Ingrid would never be able to beat this on her own.”

You couldn’t help the burst of laughter that came tumbling out when Mapi stumbled forward from the hit to the back of her head she received from Ingrid. You really loved your friends, and you were so glad you could all make this day happen around your busy schedules.

You exchanged a grin with Alexia as Frido helped herself to a cranberry-orange mimosa, raising her glass in appreciation. “To Christmas brunch with the best hosts!” she said, grinning.

“To Christmas brunch!” everyone chimed, clinking glasses before settling around the table, diving into the spread of pastries, scrambled eggs, and fresh fruit.

Everyone settled into the tightly packed dining room, exchanging excited chatter and laughs as they filled their plates. The warmth of the food, mixed with the holiday décor, brought an unmistakable festive energy to the room. Frido and Mapi were already diving into the mimosa bar, experimenting with cranberry juice and orange zest to create their own “perfect holiday drink.”

As everyone settled in, you and Alexia took your places side by side at the table, watching as your friends tucked into the meal you’d both worked so hard to prepare. You couldn’t help but feel a glow of pride at the satisfied murmurs and eager “Mmm” sounds that filled the room.

“I have to say,” Mapi spoke through a mouthful of French toast, “this is the best decision we’ve made all month. Top-tier food, top-tier company.”

“Oh, and don’t forget top-tier decorations!” Patri teased, reaching over to pinch one of the mini wreaths adorning the table. “I love that you two went all out. It feels like we’re in some kind of cozy Christmas movie.”

Alexia laughed, a twinkle of mischief in her eye. “What can I say? I don’t do things halfway,” she replied, giving your hand a gentle squeeze under the table. “Especially not when it’s Christmas.”

As the conversation drifted to light hearted topics, everyone sharing stories of past holiday memories, you took a moment to just look around the table. Friends sharing laughs over gingerbread pancakes and eggnog-flavoured lattes, plates of pastries disappearing under happy chatter. It was exactly the kind of holiday moment you’d envisioned when you and Alexia had decided to host this brunch.

“Alright, holiday confession time,” Mapi announced, setting her fork down and pointing at each of you in turn. “What’s the best, or most embarrassing, Christmas present you’ve ever received?”

Alexia groaned playfully, glancing at you with a mock-warning expression. “Do you really want to go there? Because I’ll tell them about that Christmas sweater.”

“Oh, please do,” Claudia jumped in, her eyes widening with anticipation. “I want details.”

You shook your head, trying not to laugh. “It wasn’t that bad!” you protested, though the memory of the sweater, a handmade creation from a well-meaning relative, was enough to make your cheeks burn red.

“Oh, it was legendary,” Alexia said with a laugh, leaning back and giving your friends a vivid description of the neon-green monstrosity with flashing LED lights and a battery pack. “She wore it to my family’s Christmas dinner and accidentally leaned back, setting off the lights. Everyone thought it was intentional. It was iconic.”

The table erupted into laughter, and you covered your face, smiling despite yourself. “Okay, fine, you’ve got me. But what about you, Alexia? I distinctly remember a certain singing reindeer hat…”

Mapi and Patri’s curiosity was instantly piqued. They leaned forward, and with an exaggerated sigh, Alexia explained how her sister had once gifted her a fuzzy red hat with antlers and a button that, when pressed, played a very off-key version of “Jingle Bells.”

The light hearted exchange continued, each of you sharing funny or sentimental memories, creating new ones together as you teased and laughed over your food and drinks. Someone switched the playlist to a mix of holiday classics, and you all joined in on an enthusiastic, but slightly off-key, rendition of “Last Christmas,” singing with your whole hearts as if you were on stage rather than around a breakfast table.

As the plates emptied, Alexia got up to refill the coffee pot, catching your eye with a gentle smile. She paused, watching you for a moment as you leaned across the table, laughing at something Mapi said. She placed a soft hand on your shoulder, squeezing it lightly.

“This turned out even better than I thought,” she whispered, her voice low enough that only you could hear.

You smiled back, heart warmed by her expression. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

With a quick wink, she moved back to the coffee station, and you turned your attention back to your friends, feeling a sense of contentment settle over you.

After a few more rounds of coffee, and even a spontaneous and slightly competitive mimosa-mixing contest, everyone leaned back in their chairs, looking happily full and relaxed.

“Okay, I have an idea,” Alexia announced, standing up and grabbing a small basket from the counter. “It wouldn’t be a proper holiday brunch without a little Secret Santa action, right?”

Your friends perked up, exchanging surprised and excited glances as Alexia handed out small envelopes to each person. Earlier in the week, she’d put together little “gift vouchers,” fun little coupons that each friend could cash in for things like a coffee date, a game of football, or even something silly, like “One Free Favor (No Complaints Allowed).”

She handed one of the envelopes to you last, a secretive smile on her face as you opened it. Inside was a handwritten note in her familiar scrawl: “One day of your choice, anywhere you want. I’ll make it happen.”

You looked up, grinning, and Alexia shrugged with a playful smile. “Can’t have my favourite person missing out on the fun,” she said, her tone warm.

One by one, each person shared what they’d received, laughter filling the room as they joked about how they’d “cash in” their favours. Frido declared she’d be calling in her “Free Dinner” voucher immediately, while Mapi, in typical style, was already making plans for her “One Free Dance Session” from Alexia.

As the brunch slowly wound down, the group lounged around the table, nursing their drinks and sharing more stories, reluctant to let the day end. Eventually, as the sun began to dip lower in the sky, the conversation shifted to everyone’s holiday plans and the promise to gather again soon.

After the last friend left, the apartment felt quiet but wonderfully warm, still glowing with the energy of shared laughter and friendship. You and Alexia exchanged a tired but happy look, both of you lingering in the contentment of the morning.

“That was perfect,” you said, leaning into her, your arm slipping around her waist as you both looked at the remnants of the brunch.

Alexia sighed softly, her arm around your shoulders as she pressed a light kiss to your forehead. “It really was,” she murmured. “We’ll have to make this a new tradition. Just like this, every year.”

[sorchathered]

All I want for Christmas is you🎄

A/N- Hey y’all! This is my submission for @bellaireland1981 Hallmark Holiday writing challenge! A little corny, perfectly christmassy, and just in time for the holidays! I hope you all love it!

Pairing- Jake Seresin x reader (callsign Fawn)

Warnings- Language, Angst, Jake Seresin in love

Summary- the squad gets roped into a holiday charity auction, where dates with single male aviators are the prize. Will you bite the bullet and tell Jake how you feel before Christmas break? Or will you have to watch him go on a date with someone else?

The air was filled with excitement this week. Christmas block leave started in a few days and Maverick could tell that everyone on his team was going to be completely useless. No one could blame them though; it had been a hell of a year and going home for a few days was a guaranteed way to boost their spirits and get them back in the game for the new year. The knock on his office door was unexpected though, and when Admiral Simpson marched into his office he knew the time for celebration was probably on hold. Matching orders in hand he groaned as he made his way down to the ready room; the guys were going to hate every minute of this. It would be hilarious.

"I guess Cyclone's wife is part of some fancy supper club and they decided to auction off dates with single aviators as a big prize. I mean it all goes to charity so l guess it's not all bad." Natasha says with a shrug as she digs into her lunch, Bradley looks less than enthused about the whole ordeal and Jake doesn't seem to have a care in the world. "It's more like we got volun-told to do it, the only consolation is a four day weekend, if you ask me we could have at least gotten a gift card or something." Bradley grumbles, and you can't help but agree it does seem pretty meager considering they are basically being sold to a bunch of middle aged women to ogle them. You can't help but be a little annoyed at how chill Jake seems about it though; it's not like the two of you were serious or anything, but the little green monster was clawing at you at the thought of someone else holding his attention. You'd unpack that later, now wasn't the time.

If Jake seems unphased to you then it must be a Christmas miracle, he can’t stop wondering what you’re thinking about this whole ordeal; would you bid on him? Would he have to go on some stupid date with a 50+ year old divorcee and make small talk? He didn’t mind being ogled for charity, it was for a good cause and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t know he looked as good as he does. He should tell you how he feels, just bite the bullet and ask you to be his girlfriend. The thought of you laughing over the ridiculousness of him settling down has kept him from making the declaration, he may seem cocky and cool headed but on the inside? Well he’s a big ball of nerves when it comes to you. You weren’t like anyone he’d ever been into before, and the thought of getting turned down was down right soul crushing. So he’d settled for casual hook ups, late night booty calls and shitty diner food late at night when you wanted company. He wanted more; real dates where he held your hand and got dressed up to eat fancy shit he couldn’t pronounce, waking up and eating breakfast together, goodnight kisses before you passed out in each other's arms. He was getting soft, or at least that’s what Javy said when he got that dopey look on his face when you entered the room. He’d tell you after Christmas block leave, surely by then he’d have his shit together enough to make his case.

You had to admit that while the San Diego women’s supper club was a stuffy bunch, they certainly knew how to throw a swanky affair. The ballroom of the Lafayette Hotel was decked to the brim with an old Hollywood Christmas vibe. Garlands covered in holly and poinsettias covered the doorways, Christmas lights and candles as far as the eye could see, as a jazz band played holiday classics while the crowd of upper class ladies mingled with their crystalline glasses of spirits. It very much felt like stepping back in time; almost as if Sinatra himself was preparing to take the stage. You were definitely glad Phoenix had the forethought to drag you and Halo out to dress shop earlier in the week, your cocktail dress you usually donned for weddings wouldn't have cut it for something like this. The event said black tie and they weren’t kidding, even the guys in the squad had shown up in tuxes, and you had to keep your composure because Jake Seresin in a suit was a feast for the eyes. He mingled a little with the group as he made his way over to you, beer in hand because you can dress him up but he’s still a good ol’ southern boy at heart. His gaze over your frame heated your skin, and he knew damn well he had you flustered, flicking his toothpick around in his mouth as he grinned at you.

“You look good Fawn, damn good.” You felt good too, it was a beautiful night and he was by your side, now if only you could get yourself together enough to tell him how you felt. “I have something I need to talk to you about Jake, before we all go on block leave and don’t see each other until the new year.” He cocks an eyebrow at you and leans in so he can give you his full attention, this is it, just jump off the edge headfirst and tell him you want a real relationship. “I want us-“ You hear someone clear their throat behind you, it’s Admiral Simpson and his wife- beckoning all the eligible bachelors to meet up on stage so the auction can begin. With a groan Jake drops his head to your ear, squeezing your hand as an apology as he asks you to hold that thought. Ugh! You should’ve just said something sooner, now you’ll be left with your anxiety to keep you company while you watch a bunch of women place their bids. The girls make their way back to their seats, Halo suggests that Phoenix should place her bets on Coyote; Lord knows neither of them have been subtle about their hookups these days.

“I doubt any of us has the money to throw around that these rich old bags do.” “Oh my God Phe!” You crack a smile at her crassness, she and Javy seem so solid; nothing like the uncertainty you feel in your gut right now.

“Oh shit, isn’t that Admiral Roger’s ex wife? The one Jake got trash duty for hooking up with?” Halo whispers as an elegant looking woman walks past them with a sneer. “Fuck. Yeah that’s her. She got reported by Mav for stalking Jake too, went completely bat shit after their hookup and wanted to be his sugar mama or some shit. She’s bad news. You don’t think she’ll bid on him do you?” Phoenix said, frown etching her pretty features as she looked at you for an answer. You didn’t have one, you hadn’t even thought about her in months. She’d really fucked with Jake mentally, it was part of the reason you’d kept relationship talk off the table because you were afraid you’d run him off after that train wreck. If she was here it was almost guaranteed that it was to stir the pot, you had to do something, anything to keep him out of her cross hairs. “Phe, I gotta go talk to Mav- but we have to protect Jake. See what everyone’s got in extra cash- we may need it.”

The auction was definitely a success, these ladies knew what they wanted and went for it. Harvard had gone for 5,000 and as the rest of the guys were filing out you imagined the prices would just keep rising. The feeling in your stomach felt more like a boulder as you watched the former Mrs. Rogers and her gaggle of snotty girlfriends ogle over each of your friends. This was supposed to be a fun joke for charity but the more you thought about this woman using it to manipulate the man you loved the more sick you felt. Mav had assured you that he’d handle it as best he could; Iceman seemed confident that combined everyone could place a bet to win Jake and that there was no need to worry but it did little to calm your nerves. Finally Jake takes his turn on the stage, flashing his trademark grin and playing it up for the crowd. He caught your eye and gave you a wink, and as much as you wanted to return it you couldn’t bring yourself to smile. What if someone else won him? What if she won him? I mean yeah it’s just a line dancing date for charity but still. This woman is a nightmare in heels and you’d rather not watch him suffer through an evening with her.

“I’ll start the bidding at 100 dollars!” Mrs. Simpson calls out over the microphone, and a chorus of bids ring out through the ballroom. A bidding war breaks out between Mrs. Rogers and an ancient looking woman seated in the front, bringing the price to nearly 10,000 dollars. Jake looks off kilter as he watches his stalker fight over the bid prices, and you realize that none of you have the cash to help keep him from getting away unscathed. “Oh god, he’s really gonna have to deal with her isn’t he?” You groan, Phoenix rubbing your arm absentmindedly as the price skyrockets to 30,000. It appears though that Mrs. Rogers has finally met her match, at 35,000 she gives up and relinquishes her place to the little old lady. Finally you can breathe a sigh of relief; cheers ring out among your table as the older woman stands up and takes a bow, digging in her purse for her black card. When her name is announced you can’t help but laugh; it turns out she’s Icceman’s beloved mother in law, she loves charity work and has a ridiculous amount of money and nowhere to spend it. She pinches Jake’s cheek as he makes his way over to her, with a robust laugh she shoos him off to the table your squad resides, and he is back to grinning like he won the lottery himself.

“What did she say to you? Ice’s mom?” You say later in the evening, Mrs. Rogers' husband apparently got a very interesting text from her someone about her whereabouts and left shortly after the auction ended with her tail between her legs. “She said I have a damn good squad looking out for me, but it’s more about what Mav said that I want to talk about. How about we take a walk, sugar?” He downs the rest of his whiskey and takes your hand in his, leading you out to the lobby where it’s quieter.

Before you can say a thing he’s got you all wrapped up in his strong arms, leaning in with a gleam in his eye as he kisses you by the obscenely large Christmas tree. You melt into it, the noise of the party drowned out by the rush of blood in your ears, your head going a little fuzzy as he deepens it to the point of indecency. When he finally pulls away you chase his lips and he chuckles, stroking your jaw and soaking up the moment. “Mav told me you saved me from an evening of hell with my stalker, that true pretty girl?” You’ve been caught and you know it. “I just didn’t think it was right; you deserve better than that. A-and if I’m being honest, I didn’t want anyone else to have your time…especially not her.” You frown in frustration and he can’t help but find that little crease between your eyebrows so damn endearing.

“What did you want to tell me earlier? I can take a guess and hope like hell I’m right but I need to hear you say it.” He looks at you with so much love, it’s overwhelming and heats you all the way to your toes.

“I want us. I know we’ve been keeping things casual, but I fell in love with you Jake, and I want more with you. If that’s what you want too.” You’ve got his heart in your hand and you don’t even know it, he leans in to kiss you again as he whispers against your lips. “All I want for Christmas is you darlin’, couldn’t ask for a better gift. I’m yours, loving you is the easiest thing I can do and I’ll do it forever if you let me.” It was the best Christmas gift you’ve ever received.

Tagging- @bellaireland1981 @roosterforme @attapullman @honeytwrites @heavenssins @djs8891 @kmc1989 @mynameismckenziemae @kissmecaitie @sunsetsimpsblog @sio-ina-bottle @pinguhub @lenafromthenordiccoven @shanimallina87 @trickphotography2 @teacupsandtopgun

[thefreakandthehair]

mistletoe.

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles | prompts: mistletoe | wc: 999 | rating: teen & up | tags: alternate universe- no upside down, alternate universe- flower shop au, eddie pov, eddie munson has a crush on steve harrington, confident!steve harrington, fluff, getting together, first kiss, background buckingham mention

It’s chaos. 

Clippings, and rogue petals, and ribbons that still need to be tied into bows as far as the eye can see. Long tables lined with crinkling plastic to protect the aged wood take up the center of the room, and somewhere off in the distance, Eddie can hear Chrissy on the phone with what sounds like a disgruntled, last-minute customer. 

“... Sir, it’s December. Most of our poinsettias have been reserved for weeks. We have two left that we can give you. You can have them, or you can—”

Eddie’s sure Chrissy’s about to kindly tell the phone stranger to go fuck himself and he couldn’t be prouder of how far she’s come, really, but he loses the thread on the conversation when Steve bustles in from the back.

“How many carnations does one middle school Winter Wonderland dance need, anyways? Are there even this many kids in the town?” In his warm, forest green jacket and black beanie with wind-flushed cheeks and rosy nose, Steve exhales and sets the box of carnations down on the counter. 

“Enough to pay the rent this month with carnations alone, apparently,” Eddie jokes, tapping Steve’s jean-clad shin with the toe of his boot. “We’ll be here all night doing these ribbons, won’t we?”

He tries to make it sound like a chore, like something he hasn’t been looking forward to since Chrissy told them she had a date and couldn’t stay. Any amount of alone time with Steve is welcome, even if it means tying tiny bows on small carnations and pricking his finger a hundred times with the stupid little pins. 

“Probably, yeah,” Steve shrugs with a smile. “It’s not so bad though, right?” 

“Not at all.” Eddie bites the inside of his cheek to keep from beaming. 

When Chrissy wraps up her part— invoices, confirmations, and all of the paperwork shit that Eddie and Steve are better off leaving to Chrissy— she practically skips out of the office with a wave and a smirk. 

“You do know that if she and Robin hit it off, this is gonna be a regular thing, right?” Eddie jokes, hoisting himself up to sit on one of the tables and grabbing a ribbon to wrap around another flower. 

“Robin hasn’t stopped talking about Chrissy for months. This is going to be our life, Ed. Mark my words.” Steve laughs with Eddie’s favorite crooked smile, the one that only ever seems to be targeted at him. 

He tries not to let Steve’s phrasing dig its claws too deep into his lovestruck brain, but our life wiggles its way in regardless. 

Eddie looks around and takes in all of the fine details— a half-eaten bag of plain chips, two cans of coke, carnations and ribbons strewn about in somewhat orderly piles. Chrissy left the radio on when she left, the station alternating between the top hits and classic holiday songs, and Steve bobs his head to Wham!’s Last Christmas. 

This could be their life; not just the tumultuous riptide of highs and lows, but all of the mundane minutiae in between. 

Eddie and Steve. 

EddieandSteve. 

“You okay? Stab your thumb again?” Steve asks, tearing Eddie from his reverie. 

“Yes, and actually, yes,” Eddie laughs, breathy through his nose, and wipes his thumb on his jeans. Before Steve can grab his hand and check him over, and probably push Eddie over the edge into doing something incredibly fucking stupid in the process, he brushes it off. “It’s fine. Let's get these bitches done.”

Hours pass, quickly and comfortably, and they eventually tie their last ribbon. 

“We did it, Jesus H. Christ,” Eddie celebrates, hopping off of the table and tossing the last carnation into the box. “Do you still have skin on your fingers? I don’t think I have fingerprints anymore.” 

“Now would be the time to go commit some crimes,” Steve snorts, his nose wrinkling, and Eddie wants to kiss him right on the mouth. “Before you head out though, I uh, I think we forgot one. Close your eyes for a second.” 

“What?” 

“Just close your eyes? Please?”

Eddie does as Steve asks because he’s helpless to not, his brows knitting together in confusion because closed eyes. He hears rustling and the sound of scissors snipping ribbon. What’s so special about this carnation? What’s so secretive that Eddie has to close his eyes and miss valuable alone time with Steve? Doesn’t Steve get it? Every second with his eyes closed are seconds he doesn’t get to stare. 

Steve’s stool slides against the tile floor, scraping as Eddie feels Steve standing closer. Close enough that he can feel Steve’s breath against him when he says, “Okay, open your eyes.”

In front of him is Steve Harrington, his favorite smile, and wide, hesitant eyes holding a hastily tied together bundle of mistletoe just above their heads. 

“I know it’s not Christmas yet or anything, but I couldn’t wait.” 

“You’re not fucking with me?” Eddie asks, heart clattering in his chest as hope gouges its way out of its deepest recesses. 

“Definitely not. I really like you, maybe more, and I know I didn’t have to wait for some big moment but tonight, just the two of us, it felt right. If I’m wrong, I’ll chuck this in the garbage and we can never bring it up again but—”

Eddie launches himself at Steve, both arms wrapping around Steve’s neck. 

Maybe he should’ve taken it slower— maybe their first kiss should’ve been patient, tender— but he’ll have other opportunities to show him the softness he deserves. Instead, Eddie kisses Steve just like he’s fallen in love with him: spontaneously, impulsively, urgently. Steve drops the thicket of branches and pulls him in closer, one hand balling the edge of Eddie’s shirt up in a fist by his hip and the other cupping the back of Eddie’s head, meeting his intensity wordlessly. 

Through the murky daze of Steve’s lips against his, Eddie hopes that this is their life. 

[chrystal-ink]

Shadvent calendar Day 23

Shadow x GN Reader

Christmas Party

The party was in full swing by the time the two of you arrived. Rouge never being one for subtlety had spared no expense for her party. Elegant strands of garland and lights hung on the walls, a large christmas tree perfectly decorated stood grand in the center of the drawing room, perfectly bloomed poinsettias were placed through the halls. It looked like you had walked into a Christmas palace.

Servers went throughout her home offering hors d'oeuvres and cocktails curated just for that night. and most impressively a string quartet played in the living room serenading the partygoers with beautiful renditions of all the classic holiday songs.

"Welcome, I was getting worried the two of you wouldn't show. how's my favorite couple?" Rouge greeted as the two of you walked in.

"Sorry were late we ran into traffic."

"Shadow I'm surprised at you, thinking you could get a lie past me." Rouge teased.

You giggled in response. "Sorry Rouge it was my fault I was having a little wardrobe malfunction."

"Oh no! you have my fullest sympathies" Rouge responded with deep concern. "But it looks like it all worked out you look great, not as nice as me of course, but I have the advantage of knowing my decor."

"well no one can compete in the fashion game with you Rouge you're truly the best."

"Oh you flatter me too much Y/N."

Shadow couldn't help but smile as the two of you spoke. The two people he was closest to enjoying each other's presence, he never thought he would feel like that again after Maria and Gerald. he was glad he was wrong.

the three of you chatted for a while before Rouge had to go off on her hostess duties leaving you and Shadow to yourselves. unfortunately your alone time was short lived. it wasn't before too long Amy found you and whisked you away, something about the charcuterie board, leaving poor Shadow to his own devices.

He never really liked parties too many people and far too much chatter, he was perfectly content just sitting in the corner and watching everyone interact. However, a blue hedgehog had other plans tonight.

❄️

"Can I just say Y/N you look amazing tonight" Amy said handing you a cocktail.

"aww thanks Amy"

"You and your date really do make a fine pair"

"enjoying your handywork are we now?"

"what? I don't know what your talking about"

"Well as I recall, you and Rouge worked pretty hard setting us up."

Amy laughed "Well could you blame us the two of you are just so perfect together."

"Well I can't argue with the results, Thank you Amy."

"You've already thanked me enough, every time I see the two of you together you always look so happy. I don't think I've seen Shadow smile this much and so bright too. Seeing the two of you so in love just warms my heart so much You're just so perfect together."

You smiled at Amy "Well I'll toast to that. And if you need me to return the favor with you know who I'd be happy to oblige."

Amy giggled "I might have to take you up on that someday."

🎄

Shadow watched you and Amy laughing together from across the room, the sound drifting to his ears. He loved your laugh the way it could make a silent room into a symphony, and you just looked so beautiful whenever you laughed. He smiled at your beauty.

"Woah! Shadow are you actually smiling? I didn't know that was even possible." Sonic said as he approached the black hedgehog. "Are you happy to see me?"

"Go away sonic."

"Oh I see, staring at Y/N are we? let guess you have a crush on them don't you?"

"Y/N and I have been dating for quite some time now It's a wonder how you lack such basic observation skills."

"I'm just messing with you Shadow, but I haven't seen you smile like that in like, ever."

"I'll say" Rouge chimed in "It's nice to see you happy like that though it's a good look on you."

"I Agree" added Sonic "But I think infinite might get a little jealous."

"He's been dead for several years he'll get over it."

Sonic laughed " Wow smiling and cracking jokes Y/N Really does bring out the best in you don't they"

Shadow once again looked over to you, at the same time you looked over at him and smiled, he smiled back.

"Yah, they really do,"

[episodes-ff]

Aftershock

Terry

Sitting up against the wall as I stared across at the door to our room, I waited in peril prepared to explain myself and apologize to Anaya. What I did was beyond the pail of disrespect and I want the chance to express how extremely disappointed I am in myself. Rubbing my eyes as I fought sleep for the umpteenth time to endure her wrath, I looked outside and watched the sun rising with the morning breeze. Hearing the door to the bedroom creaking open, I connected with her beautiful, red puffy eyes and watched as she and Maya exited the door. "Ny, ple-" Shoving her hand up, she angrily stormed past me into the kitchen to prepare some food for Maya as I blew a frustrated breath and shook my head. Taking a whiff of myself, I shuddered at the must entering my nose before going into the room to shower.

Finishing the much needed shower, I changed into a quick t-shirt and sweats before hurrying down to the kitchen. Halting in my steps as I spotted my mom and dad sipping their morning coffee as Anaya fed baby girl, I swallowed the major lump in my throat. "Good morning, everybody. Um, Anaya, can I speak with you for a moment?" "No need, your family is waiting on you in the living room." She spat viciously as she let out a vile chuckle and handed Maya to my dad; storming past me, she made sure to bump me hard on the way up. Knitting my brows in confusion, I glanced over to the living room to see Bree and I's son, Trey perched quietly on the couch on his tablet. "Anaya, wait!"

Running up the stairs behind her, I made it to the bedroom to see her sitting on the bed in tears. Dropping to my knees in front of her, I gently removed her hands from her face as she whined feebly trying to shove me away. "Get the fuck off of me, Terrence! You make me sick! Move!" "Please just let me explain, Naya." "Why?! Why would I want to sit here and listen to you talk about fucking this bitch and getting her pregnant? Cheating on me and disgracing our marriage? Hiding it from me for two years? Why are you trying to put me through this trauma?!" She ranted sobbing.

Lowering my head in her lap, I shook my head wrapping my arms around her waist. "There's no amount of words I can say to express how fucking sorry I am, baby." "You're not sorry, Terry. And you don't love me. This?! This isn't love, not in the slightest." "It's the worst mistake I've ever made, and I'm so ashamed that I ever hurt you like this. I know you don't want my word, but you have my actions that I will make this right." I pleaded crying as she hiccuped holding her face. "Your actions have done enough, I just need to be away from you right now, Terry. This all just hurts too much." Nodding as my heart shattered, I kissed her forehead gently before making my way back down to tend to the kids.

Anaya

After recovering my nerves and feelings, I took a relaxing enough shower and got dressed. Pulling my phone and wallet along with my purse, I slowly made my way back to the kitchen. "Oh, you look pretty dear. Where are you headed?" Miss Teresa asked as Terry looked up from holding Maya to stare at me. "Thank you, Mama. I just need to clear my head for a little while. I'll be back." "Understandable, sweetheart. Take your time." Nodding, I hugged her close before grabbing the rental keys and leaving the house. Sitting in the car for a little while as it warmed from the winter chill, I sighed before turning off my location and driving off.

Finally making it to the cemetery, I grabbed the fresh poinsettias as I trekked through to my desired spot. Making contact with her headstone, I set the plant down and thought of what to say. "Merry Christmas, Mommy. I know you would be so proud of your grandbaby right now. She's so smart and bright, reminds me a lot of you. She definitely has your personality." I smiled reminiscing on Maya's sassy side before I felt my emotions kicking in. "Mommy, please! Help me through this pain! I don't know how much more I can take. It just hurts so much." I cried thinking on all this drama. "Anaya?" Looking up, I wiped my tears as my gaze met with his. "Hi, Eric." I said addressing Terry's best friend as he smiled. "Well I'll be damned. When did y'all get into town?" "Um, we got in yesterday." "That's wassup, that's wassup! Where's my godbaby with her adorable little smile? I be seeing her here and there on FaceTime." "With her bitch ass father." I accidentally spat with venom as he looked up confused.

"You good?" He asked concerned as I nodded. "Uh, yea, my bad. It's just a lot happening right now." "Hey, it's no biggie. Everything ok with you and Tee?" "No comment right now." "My fault my fault, well I know y'all will get through whatever is going on. That man loves you to death as do you." He added making me scoff quietly. "Yea, well I'll see you around, E. I'll have him FaceTime you with Maya later so you can see her now." "That's a bet, thank you. You be safe, now." "You as well." Parting ways, I shook my head before finishing my conversation with my mom and heading to the car. Feeling a bit of hunger kick in, I groaned stopping at the store to get a light snack. I haven't even been able to hold down any food because of all this stress, and my appetite has been gone since I saw that bitch standing in the foyer with that little boy.

Shaking my head as I held back my evil thoughts, I strolled the aisles in a hurry for a snack when I ran into a hard figure. "Ohhh shit, my bad. I didn't even- Wait a minute?" The handsome voice soothed before helping me up. Dusting myself off, I looked up and smiled seeing him standing in the flesh. "Rome?" "Yeaaaaa, Anaya right?" "Yea." I blushed as he kissed my hand. "You know, I was waiting on that call but it never came. What have you been up to?" "Uhhh, well, I became a mommy and wife, and we moved to Miami." "Ahhh damn. I knew you weren't gonna stay free for long. Who's the lucky guy?" "I'm not sure if you remember Terrence." "Wait, that belligerent knucklehead from the club?" He asked as I sheepishly nodded. "Yea, going on five years married, seven in a relationship." I admitted flashing my ring. "I guess you like what you like." He casted shaking his head as I nodded. "Well, I guess that's my cue. It was nice seeing you again, beautiful." "It doesn't have to be a goodbye." I perked up reaching forward. "May I?" I asked at his shocked but smug gaze. "Go ahead." Smirking, I smoothly pulled his phone from his pocket and typed my phone number before sliding it back in his hand. "Call me sometime." "Most definitely."

****

Walking into the dark house, I set my purse on the kitchen table before reaching into the refrigerator to grab a water. "I know you're there, what the fuck do you need?" I sighed turning to face what I knew was him on the adjacent love seat. Finally flickering the lamp, he leaned forward into his lap as I watched him wiping more tears from his tired face. "Can we please just talk, Anaya? Why did you turn off your location?" "Don't worry about that. Where is Maya?" "Anaya." "Where the fuck is my child, Terrence?" Scoffing, he shook his head. "She's at the Christmas parade with my parents." "And your son?" "She came and got him before my parents left. Anaya please? Can we talk?" "I have nothing to say to you unless it pertains to my fucking child." I chuckled bitterly. "She's not just yours, Anaya." "Oh trust me, I know. Thank you for your services, soldier." I spat giving him a round of applause.

"Stop doing that." He gritted standing up. "Doing what? Acknowledging you in your truth?! We get it, Terry. It was a funky ass 'mistake' and you're oh so damn sorry. What the fuck am I supposed to do with that information, huh?! You still cheated, with Bree of all fucking people. And a fucking child is here as a result, has been for three years now." "Anaya!" "NO! You're done talking and frankly, so the fuck am I! I'm filing for separation in the morning." "WHAT?! Baby, no!" He shook walking over but I stopped him in his tracks. "Don't even. You've made it plain that I'm not your baby. We not about to sit up and continue to treat you like you're such a loving, doting husband when you obviously don't want to be one. I'm not discussing this shit anymore with you, Terry. You've crossed one too many lines, and I'll be damned if you cross me again. I'm filing in the morning and that's it, end of discussion." I clarified as he fell to his knees.

Tags: @violetmuses @theereina @kaylaahisthebestest- @mymindisneverhere @simpledopeme @believeinthefireflies95 @brisunique @madxlov3 @casualsludgeshoetoad @mauvecherie-writes @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @kumkaniudaku @geneziesm @megamindsecretlair @goldenjasssy @vivaalenaa @playgurlxoxo @ghettogirly @ranikyani @luuvprincess @perfectlyimperfectme @tbmotw @comfortzonequeen @melanin-honeyy @qdancer22 @strawberrymoon45 @luckygirlszn @kindofaintrovert @secretlifeoofmarpessa @cmbmjbfan @summwerella @ihateyallniggas @rebelrel0987 @cheracherachera @bhristpher @cocooned-butterfly @theblessedcap @deijalee @catha2003 @magik22 @sweettea-and-honeybutter @pinkbuzzlightyrrr @kimuzostar @j0joworld @justicefordeanthomas @liv10002 @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat @brattyfics @pocketsizedpanther

[naffeclipse]

Heya, @niexigo! I'm your Secret Santa! I hope you enjoy this little fic focused on Moon and a little romantic moment of seeing Christmas lights together! I had so much fun writing this and I hope you enjoy! Merry Christmas! <3

Lights on the Water

Moon x Reader Word Count: ~2,000 Warnings: N/A

Winter in the city means lights. Christmas lights, of course. The LED hues have begun to pop up like poinsettias along every home and elegant crystal white displays are out in front of every store. This is the best time of year—and there is much reason to celebrate.

A lot has changed since robots, animatronics, and any machine that wished to breathe gained recognition of their sentience. The last few months have been a swirling storm. Protests and hatred bring a cold shiver around the world, but it has not stopped the evolution of new life. 

You are grateful. Without the chaos, you wouldn’t be here, holding an animatronic’s hand. 

Your Moon. His digits are long, painted in silver and blue hues. He cradles your mitten wrapped palm in the pocket of his silver wool coat. It’s almost comical how much bigger he is than you. 

Standing well over your height, with limbs and hands to match, he engulfs you against his side in a bid to keep you warm against the December chill. You’ve seen so many models of animatronics, both humanoid and entirely machine, but Moon slots somewhere in the middle with his discus shaped head and deceptively thin limbs. His expressions are a bit more advanced, his mouth being able to move and his eyes able to crease and expand to emphasize whatever he may be saying. 

You stand together at the entrance of the city park. It boasts an impressive size, with plenty of acres for dogs, joggers, and little children who need to expel vast amounts of energy from their wiggling bodies. There’s even a sizable pond featuring a bridge crossing its width and holds tiny fish and ducks—though you doubt you’ll catch a glimpse of those animals in this frozen season.

The darkness is steep even in early evening, and carries a blue tinge that seems to spread like frost through the winter. Yet, it is perfect. The lights in the distance wrapped around trees, poles, and shaped structures are warm beacons. 

You lift your free hand to tug on Moon’s scarf. The silver and deep blue stripes wrap snugly around his spindly neck, but you fear the cool air might be hard on his inner workings. It is well below freezing. He tilts his head. His nightcap swings softly over his shoulder with a soft trinkle of a bell. The low glow of his red optics softens upon you.

“My internal regulation is a lot more advanced than yours,” he rasps, touched with mirth.

“I know that, but you weren’t built to be outdoors.” You tuck one end of the scarf into his wool coat. The thick and warm material reassures you while your fingertips are seized by the bitter cold air. “Let me know if you need anything, okay? A kiss to warm your cheek, an embrace to melt any ice in your system. As a human, I am naturally above the freezing temperature, and at your service.”

His scarlet-hued gaze crinkles in humor. He lifts a hand. Though you’ve found that he tends to run cool (thanks to his advanced internal regulation system) he can warm himself up to a decree that makes it all too easy for you to fall asleep in his arms on movie nights. 

“Hm, yes, you are very rosy-cheeked,” Moon murmurs. He palms your cheek, and your eyelids immediately flutter against the blissful heat of his touch. “Whatever would I do without my darling human to save me?”

“You’d freeze and become a pole or something. They might hang wreaths on you.” You snort at your own joke. 

“Har har,” he says dryly. “Snowball, leave the comedy to me.”

You lean deeper into his touch. His thumb caresses softly along your face, drawing underneath your eye before sweeping back a strand of hair that fell out of your beanie. This close, his optics dust you in a soft red glow.

Your favorite color of late has been red. His red eyes. The red ribbons he ties around his wrists with golden bells. The red ruffles around his neck. He’s bundled now, but he still looks at you with the scarlet light that makes you melt.

“Come on. The lights aren’t going to see themselves.” You force yourself to straighten out of the delicious comfort of his temperature. He chuckles, a mischievous sound that now fills you with a giddiness.

“Lead the way, Rudolph.” He boops your nose and turns to the entrance. Though, he doesn’t take a step without gathering your hand back in his and setting it within the safe confines of his coat pocket. He squeezes your palm once. You squeeze back.

He’s never seen the lights before. He told you this once as the holiday season approached, and it appalled you. Of course, how could he have seen any Christmas decorations and displays outside of the Freddy Fazbear Mega Pizzaplex? From what he’s told you, and from what you’ve gathered out of his selected details, the work conditions were not humane. Why would they be for machines? But regardless, you made him a promise, and he shared his enthusiasm.

Through the twinkling blue evening, you and him stroll inside the park. The very first lights are trees engulfed in lights. One purple, one yellow, one green, one red. You have not the foggiest idea how painstakingly long it must take to wrap each bough and the whole trunk of the tree until it’s a blazing torch in the night. The path winds softly through the burning bright trees. 

Moon turns his face up towards the light. You subtly watch him from the corner of your eyes, trying to study his reaction without making him feel like the focus of your attention. You’ve visited the park many times over the years to see the lights. Your only hope is that he finds it as beautiful as you do.

His optics are low in comparison to the bright bulbs. The light beams onto his faceplate, highlighting the curve of his shadowy crescent and coloring his pale other half. It catches on his cheeks. His teeth grin but there is a glimmering awe to the edge of his constant smile. 

You hold his arm, your other hand still smugly dipped into his pocket.

“There’s so much more,” you whisper to him, “but it’s pretty, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, pretty,” he answers in a gentle crackle of static.

He turns to look down at you. He stops a moment, and stares. You blink. Is there something on your face?

His expression softens before he pecks your cheek with a kiss.

“Come on,” he tugs you further down the path, “There’s more, right?”

Your face heats not simply due to the warmth of his mouth. The tip of your boot almost snags on your other leg as you try to step in time with him. In a hot haze, you force yourself to inhale a great frosty breath and bring yourself back into focus.

The animatronic knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

Deeper into the park, the displays begin popping up along the path. Instead of twinning around trees and filling the fronds like a forest fire, the lights take shapes after candy canes, reindeer, snowflakes, and Santa’s sleigh. 

“The kids would love this,” Moon says as you pass by a golden row of bows and ribbons twisting down the sidewalk. His job as Daycare Attendant remains a preference of his. The daycare he owns and runs, no longer attached to the Fazbear name, is just down the road from your apartment and his.

“Oh yeah, I always see families here,” you nod. You two arrived later—after the early rush in the hope of not being crowded and forced to move quickly to let others have their turn. It seems to be working for the most part. 

He hums thoughtfully while continuing down to a section dedicated to Christmas toys. An elephant with polka dots and a dolly with red braids and blue bows in her hair smile at you and Moon walking along. 

You shiver once. Your poor fingers are exposed to the elements, even with the defense of a glove, and suffering. A low chuckle emits from Moon. Before you can protest, he steps around your, freeing your one hand to stuff the other into his coat pocket. 

“What will humans become if they freeze?” he asks, deadpan. You pull a face at him. He breezes past your pout. “Popsicles? I could sprinkle sugar on you.”

“Ew,” you say, but laugh. “But probably. A human popsicle sounds about right.”

“Sorry, but I can’t let that happen,” Moon shakes his head. “You fragile humans.”

“Not fragile,” you announce, but he pulls your beanie down over your ears all the same. 

The display continues into a little north pole display featuring polar bears and igloos and sliding penguins. (You’re pretty sure penguins don’t live in the north pole, but who are you to criticize art?) Moon points out an ice fishing hole. You ask if he has any wanderlust for the great outdoors. He pauses and considers that he might want to experience a camping trip, but that’s more of Sun’s thing.

You make a mental note of that.

The path darkens as it winds further along. Moon walks closely beside you. His stride is considerably slower, thanks in part to you and your comparatively short legs. He doesn’t seem to mind. His digits interlock between your fingers. Cradling your hand, you sight at the sweet relief of his warmth easing the numbing sting of the cold. Your other hand, however, is beginning to freeze once more.

You can hold out. You’re not fragile. No matter how much Moon likes to tease.

Around the bend, the path lowers into a curving circle around a great pond. Moon lingers in the slightest as you watch him again. His eyes roam over the floating lights set in the shape of trees upon the water. The colors gleam and dance along the surface, reflecting yellow, red, silver, and soft blues in a bright effect. 

“This is my favorite,” you say softly into his shoulder.

He dips his head closer to you, though his eyes don’t wander from the beautiful displays. The twinkling lights reflect off of the water. You tug Moon further along the path following the edge of the water. Walking slowly, you allow him to drink in full view, enjoying the peaceful calm of a winter’s night with such warm lights.

“Beautiful,” Moon says once you finish a full loop around the pond.

You make a soft sound of content and lean closer against him. He releases your hand to wrap an arm around your shoulder and tug you in close. For a blissful heartbeat, you both watch the dazzling display, two mirrored versions of lights divided only by the waterline.

Moon suddenly laughs. You lift your head up in confusion to stare at him.

“You’re shivering.” He squeezes you a little tighter into his embrace. Indeed, once pressed against his wool coat, you realize your muscles are working hard to bring your body’s temperature back up.

“I’m fine,” you say, but pause, “They always sell hot chocolate at the very end of the path.”

“Alright,” he turns and lowers himself to you. He smuggles softly against your neck, and you breathe out in solace as the heat of his faceplate finds the cooled parts of your skin just under your chin. “Let’s get you some hot chocolate, then I’ll take you home.”

“Sounds good,” you murmur, your jawline bumping against his nightcap slightly. 

Moon rubs your shoulders in soothing circles, his heat slipping through your coat.

“Thank you,” he murmurs.

You smile though he cannot see it.

“Your welcome, sweetheart.” You think for a moment. “Does that mean you had a good time?”

“I did, and I still am,” he straightens. His grin is gentle in the darkness. The red of his eyes fills you with a molten adoration. “I think we should get going before you become a human popsicle.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you try to wave away his concern. You, however, grab his hand and press it to your mouth. Your kiss holds softly to his palm. His fingers curl gently against your cheek.

“Merry Christmas, Moon,” you whisper once you release his hand.

“Merry Christmas, snowdrop,” he answers in kind.

[chans-room]

Christmas Delights

Pairing: Yuta x reader

Genre: blind date, semi-explicit smut

Length: 3.1k

Rating: Explicit/18+ only

Warnings: reader gets set up on a blind date by a friend, not really explicit smut, lots of teasing and flirting, def some oral both f&m receiving but it's not explicitly described. Pretty soft tbh

Authors note: merry sexy Christmas hoes! But especially merry Christmas to @minisugakoobies @kiestrokes @minttangerines @eureka-its-zico & @j-a-nuary 🖤 not beta'd at all really we die like men. It's Christmas so if yall find issues, no you didn't 🖤

Masterlist

You couldn't help but ask, despite the many times your friend had assured you this was not some elaborate prank. “I'm sorry, just… remind me again where you met this totally hot single guy?” You asked, “and why has he just… accepted the idea of going on a date with a total stranger on Christmas Eve, of all days?” you sighed, swiping another layer of lipstain across your mouth. You really wanted this to go well.

“Like I said before, this totally hot single guy works with my sister. When she and I went to dinner the other night, she was telling me about him, and we talked about you and how you're both single. So she asked him if he'd be into a blind date, and he said yes. And so did you. So you're going,” she said sharply, sensing your hesitation.

You rolled your eyes at her tone. “I wasn't going to bail, I was just making sure you didn't find some rando off the streets to take me out on Christmas Eve,” you shot back.

“Fine, fine. But just remember, you’re totally allowed to put out on the first date,” your friend teased. “And you're going to want to fuck this guy. He's hot.”

“Are you legally allowed to say that? Being married and happy in love and all that nonsense?” You teased back, followed by her loud bark of laughter.

“I’m allowed to look, not touch. But you better get going or else you're gonna be late for your hot date!”

You scoffed, snapping your compact shut, “It's like you don't know me at all. I’m at the bar having a pre-date cocktail, and I already turned my location on.”

“Good, now go get laid please,” your friend sighed. The way she pushed the idea of one night stands on you always felt a little like she was trying to live vicariously through you, but you rolled your eyes again and sipped your drink.

“Yeah, yeah, tell your husband I said hello and let me know if he likes my gift,” you said, hearing another peal of laughter before the line went dead.

The bar your date had chosen was gorgeous — teeming with Christmas lights and the smell of pine permeating the air. The soft glow and 40s Christmas music gave everything a romantic air, making you feel like you'd stepped into a dream.

Despite knowing he wouldn't be arriving for another 15 minutes at least, you couldn't help but scan the room for a man with a poinsettia in his front jacket pocket — the thing your friend had told you was the indication of your intended date.

You nearly choked on your drink when a man — a poinsettia clear in his front jacket pocket — walked in looking as if he'd just stepped off the runway. The black coat he wore looked like it cost more than your rent, his hair tousled into perfection, and a sultry smile set on his pretty mouth was enough to have you gaping like a fish.

If you could have thought past your shock, you would have pulled off your scarf and shoved the mistletoe in your bag, and you cursed yourself for not doing so when his eyes found yours. But to your surprise, they lit up with excitement as he sauntered over to you. The crowd seemed to part for him naturally before he slid into the seat next to you.

“Hello, gorgeous, it looks like you're my date. I'm Yuta,” he grinned. You couldn't help but notice he smelled as expensive as he looked, groaning internally at the situation you found yourself in. You introduced yourself softly, making his smile widen. “I'm gonna go grab our table. Will you order me one of wherever you're having and have the bartender add it to our table’s check?”

You nodded and watched him saunter away from you as swiftly as he had come. The wink he threw over his shoulder sent butterflies through your gut as you spun away from him, face heating. You had never felt so out of your depth before — you weren't some shy, wallflower. You simply didn't date because no one seemed worth your time or energy. But Yuta was something else. He had a magnetism to him, but also an easy charm, and you found yourself wanting to put in the energy for him.

With a deep breath, you straightened your spine, finished the last of your drink for courage, and surged forward. He was easy to find, despite being tucked into a corner looking even more attractive, if that were possible. His coat had been shed, hanging off the back of his chair elegantly, and left you staring at his near naked chest in his half unbuttoned shirt.

His smirk was borderline cocky, but you found it incredibly sexy.

“So,” he said as you sat down, “What’s a girl like you doing on her own on Christmas Eve?”

You shrugged, “My friends are all married, and I sent my parents on a cruise for Christmas this year. I was planning on going to my sister's for Christmas Day with my nieces and nephews.”

He smiled and nodded, the smirk still firmly on his face. “Generous and family oriented. Such a good girl. It makes me wonder even more why you're single,” he asked with a wink.

His teasing made you feel empowered to be yourself and be forward with him. “Because I haven't found a man who deserves my time. And why are you alone on Christmas Eve? All your model friends in Ibiza and leave you behind?”

His throaty laugh shot through you, warming you from your toes to your ears. “No one really has model friends, babe. They'll sell you for a job in the blink of an eye.”

You smirked back, “Ah, so you are a model. Does that mean I should leave now and save myself the heartbreak?”

“No, sweetheart. I said no one is friends with a model. I never said anything about being more than friends with one,” he grinned, leaning forward with his chin hammocked on the backs of his crossed fingers, elbows perched delicately on the edge of the table. You felt your cheeks heating as he stared into your eyes. You couldn't look away, caught in the dark abyss of his brown eyes. But he broke eye contact and leaned back in his seat, “Besides, I'm not a model, love. In another life maybe.”

“Well if you're not a model, what do you do for work?” You asked, leaning back in your seat. There was a flicker of surprise and confusion in his eyes for a moment as he hesitated.

“I'm sorry, you don't know?” He asked softly, expression concerned and almost guarded.

“No… should I?” You asked, racking your brain for conversations with your friend, searching your memory for a clue. “I know you work with my friends' sister? But I can't remember what she does. Should I be concerned?”

He looked truly shocked for a moment, but laughed a little to himself and shook his head, reconnecting his gaze with yours. “No, there's no need to be concerned. I was just… surprised. I work with a luxury marketing firm, which is how I know so much about models.”

You nodded in understanding, appraising him critically. Something about his answer felt false but you didn't push. A relative stranger was allowed his secrets, even if it made you curious. But you pushed your curiosity aside and let your hesitation go.

Dinner flew by, charmed and more than a little attracted to Yuta. He was funny, smart, a little cheeky, and overall just annoyingly your type. He paid for dinner and drinks, despite your protest to split the bill, and offered to drive you home when you walked outside to find flurries in the air.

“I swear on my father’s life, I am of sound mind and body to drive you home, even in the snow,” he teased, looping his arm in yours.

“I don't even know your dad! He could be dead for all I know!” You laughed, making him scoff. “Besides, I can just get an Uber and—”

“I will call him right now and you can confirm I am a loving, wonderful son who would never swear on his father’s life without cause,” he protested, pulling his phone out and flicking through apps to get to his contacts. He wiggled his eyebrows at you, his thumb hovering over the contact labeled ‘Dad 💙’.

“Alright, alright, I believe you. No need to wake up your dad to swear on your life. But if you hit so much as one curb, I’m getting out and I'm walking home,” you threatened weakly.

“Don't worry, I'll keep you safe,” he said with a soft smile, tucking his phone back into his pocket and holding his hand out to you. You stared at the offered hand for a moment — eyes sweeping over the manicured nails, gorgeously knobby knuckles on long, slender fingers, and chunky rings — as you listened to your heartbeat in your ears.

You threaded your fingers with his, grinning to yourself as his hand fit in yours comfortably. His skin was soft and warm and without thinking you replied, “I trust you.”

His hand squeezed yours in response, pulling you closer to him.

The short walk to his car was comfortably quiet, you both watching the snow dance through the air and coat the world in a layer of powder while stealing glances at each other.

“My lady, your chariot,” he said, pulling you to a stop in front of an inconspicuously nice car. You rolled your eyes and gave him a playful smile as you slid into the passenger seat.

“My knight in shining Armani,” you teased him back.

“I prefer Louis Vuitton,” he grinned, “But I'll be your knight in shining armor any day,” he said with a cheeky wink before closing the door.

You felt the heat spread down your neck and to your chest as you giggled to yourself watching him saunter around the car, eyes never leaving yours.

The drive to your apartment was short, but it felt like a thousand degrees in his car with one of his hands firmly on your thigh, his grip tightening every so often making you fight the urge to gasp every time. You could see his smirk out of the corner of your eye every time you swallowed the sound.

He easily maneuvered into your parking garage, pulling into an empty space expertly. Time stretched as you contemplated what to do; inviting him in seemed almost too forward but not inviting him in felt like a waste of a perfect first date. Just as you had thought you made your decision, he broke the silence.

“I lied to you earlier,” he said softly, voice tinged with sadness. “Well, I didn't lie but I wasn't completely honest. I do work at a luxury marketing firm, but I don't work with your friend’s sister. And that's not my only job.”

“I don't understand… if you didn't—”

“I'm an escort.” He said, your heart plummeting to your knees. “Not… not all the time. And I've been…. unhappy with it lately. But your friend paid me to take you out tonight, and I almost turned her down but… god maybe I should have. She said you knew about it but when you asked me what I did I-I…” he trailed off.

Your thoughts were racing; the betrayal stung something deep in you and your eyes welled with tears.

“Please, don't cry. I'm so sorry. When I realized, I almost told you. But then I… you just… you wanted to be there. With me. Not because you had any expectations or because you knew it was a paid interaction. And I didn't want it to end. I'm sorry I've deceived you, God I feel so gross.”

“I'm… not upset with you,” you blurted out, making him freeze, eyes cutting over to you in confusion. “I mean, obviously it's not the best information to get after the best date I've ever been on. But it's not your fault. You didn't know, and honestly I wouldn't blame you if you never told me. I'm really just mad that she would go behind my back like this. Am I really that horrible and unlovable she thinks she has to pay someone to pretend to be—”

“Whoa, who said anything about pretending?” He scoffed, squeezing your thigh again. You hadn't realized his hand had remained there. Even more surprisingly, the feeling of it being there hadn't changed. “I'm very attracted to you. And there's nothing wrong with you. There's something wrong with your friend for deciding to betray your trust like this,” he said firmly.

“So… to clarify. You were hired to…?”

“Take you to dinner and have sex with you, yes.”

“But when you realized I didn't know that you decided this was…?”

“A real date, yes. I just… didn't want to not tell you. Because that would feel…”

“Yeah. Agreed. So if this was a real date… do you want to come upstairs?”

His eyes widened as he stared at you in shock. “Are you sure? I swear I don't expect anything and I don't want you to be uncomfortable and—”

“If you’re saying this is real, this date is real, then yes. I'm sure,” you nodded, a smile spreading across your face as you could see the wheels turning in his mind.

Suddenly he stopped, his eyes locking onto yours as he flexed his hand, squeezing your thigh intentionally. The tiny gasp you let out seemed to make up his mind as he surged across the console to press his lips to yours.

It was as perfect as you hoped it'd be; an eruption of sparkles in your chest making you feel breathless. He pulled away after a moment, your mouth chasing after him subconsciously.

“I have one rule, if I go upstairs with you,” he said softly, his thumb coming up to caress your cheek. You nodded, urging him to make his stipulation. “I get to take you out on another date. New Year's Eve maybe?”

“You want to wait that long to see me again?” You grinned, teasing him.

“If it were up to me I'd take you on a date tomorrow. But I'm not in a hurry; I'll wait till next Christmas Eve if it means I have a chance with you,” he said earnestly.

Your heart fluttered, nodding as you pulled back. “Let's go upstairs. I want to see if all this time as an escort paid off.”

He scoffed, powering down the engine of his car as you got out. “Sweetheart, trust me. You'll never experience anyone else like me.”

“We’ll see about that, maybe a refund will be in order. Who knows,” you shrugged, giving him a wink as you sauntered over to the elevator.

You barely made it a few steps before his hand caught yours, pulling you backwards into his chest. “Trust me, you're not gonna want a refund,” he breathed in your ear.

His hands tightening around your hips sent a zing of pleasure down your spine as you entered for the elevator, his length pressing into the small of your back, teeth grazing the side of your neck.

The elevator was torture, his skillful fingers dancing across any shred of bare skin he could find while whispering all the filthy things he had planned, with your permission of course.

It was only when your door closed behind you that you let yourself sink into the sensations. His hands splayed out across your stomach and skirting into the waistband of your pants. “Can I?” He asked, pinky finger circling the button.

A bolt of insecurity lanced through you for a moment, causing you to stammer out, “I-I don't know if I prepared well enough or—”

“Hey,” he said softly, turning your face up to look into his eyes. “There's no comparison, okay? Everyone is different and incredible in their own way. But I, as a man and not as an escort, am so fucking attracted to you.”

You felt your knees go weak, turning around and pulling him to kiss you, hands tugging at his clothes to shuck them off as quickly as you could.

Time seemed to slow as you undressed each other, hands touching and teasing and pleasing. You didn't care about the overturned lamp, nor the clatter of your purse falling on the floor, or the muffled sounds of your respective clothes hitting the hardwood beneath your feet.

All you knew was him; sharp citrus and soft woody permeating the air, sweet mint of his abandoned gum against your mouth, the strength of his hands under your thighs, his breathy voice in your ears asking for directions to your room between gasps.

It wasn't long until he had you moaning and mewling underneath him, wringing orgasm after orgasm out of you, leaving you boneless and satisfied underneath his smirking form.

You fell asleep talking about the future and making plans for a second date, discussing why he wanted to leave his second job behind, and debating on what you should do about your friend. He bid you to sleep on it before making a decision, kissing your forehead as you faded into a dreamless sleep.

You woke with his arms around you, face nuzzled into the back of your neck as he traced his tongue down your skin.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he said into your ear, voice deep and rough with sleep.

“Merry Christmas,” you hummed back.

“Sleep well?” He asked, moving from behind you, pulling you down to lay on your back underneath him.

“Definitely,” you smiled, reaching up to push his hair back from his forehead. “You?”

“Of course,” he smiled, surging forward to kiss you deeply, stealing the breath from your lungs before pulling back with a smirk. “I am hungry though. Christmas breakfast has always been my favourite.”

“I'm not sure I have anything in my fridge to—” you began but your voice died out with the feeling of his lips trailing down your chest, stomach, and the insides of your thighs.

“You're not going anywhere,” he nearly purred, “I have all I need right here.”

His tongue flattening against your core made you go boneless, and he made quick work of bringing you to bliss no less than three times before you were pushing him away and pinning him to your bed, returning the favour.

When you finally managed to extract yourself from your sheets, followed by his grabby hands and your rolling eyes, he broached the subject of your friend again.

“I really have no issues refunding her. I’m not necessarily cheap but I feel bad considering you're… my… girlfriend? Now?” He asked hopefully.

“Nah, just spend the money on our next date and we’ll call it even,” you smiled, kissing his cheek, “boyfriend.”

[entomologistt]

What do they give you for Christmas?

Featuring: Emma Woods, Orpheus DeRoss, Victor Grantz, Vera Nair, Anne Lester, Frederick Kreiburg (Identity V)

Contains: Holiday gift giving, fluff, seperate romantic headcanons, gender neutral reader

Ento note: Happy Holidays! And good day to you if you don’t celebrate 🙂‍↕️ I don’t even remember what I spent all my spyglasses on, but now I can’t afford Melly’s christmas B tier… sighs. Next year she will be be mine, trust 🙏

Emma Woods “Gardener”

Emma has to think outside the box this time. She always gives you the prettiest flowers and all of the best, most succulent fruits and vegetables from her garden… Plus, it’s wintertime.

So she reverts back to her old roots of handiwork… Knitting! She spends a while working on a huuuuge knitted sweater of your favourite color(s), each woollen row a sign of her unwavering commitment to making the coziest sweater. 

When she finally gifts it to you, it’s really warm and comfy, perfect for the holiday season. She even made herself a matching green one!

Orpheus DeEss “Novelist”

If you share a similar interest, such as reading, he’d give you books of your favourite genres and authors.

Actually—he’d probably write something just for you, a story he knows you’d enjoy, one that gets you more intrigued with each turn of the page. Maybe even some poems for just you.

He’d also get you a locket necklace or a watch, a piece of pretty jewellery for you to wear. You can put whatever you want in it. Will you keep him close to you?

Victor Grantz “Postman”

He’s a sweetheart, that’s for sure. He shows up at your door with a smile on his face, a bouquet full of poinsettias and red roses held out for you to take. Of course, Wick is with him too, her tail wagging as she barked excitedly behind him. 

Victor is a good listener, so he always takes mental notes on things you like or things you might need. He gifts you various things, including supplies for any hobbies you partake in. 

He also gifts you a new notebook that you can keep, so you can keep his written words and conversations with you! 

Vera Nair “Perfumer”

Vera makes you two special perfumes. One is a pretty bottle full of scents that remind her of you, and she’s an expert at assigning people their recommended fragrances, scents that fit them. In this case, it’s a scent that’s so… you! 

The other is a bottle of euphoria, but she only recommends it for when you need to ease your mind. 

She also gifts you things you’d find in a gift set, full of luxurious bath and skin products. You’re dear to her, you deserve the best, after all. 

Anne Lester “Toy Merchant”

Although her specialty is wooden toys, she has another thing in mind for you. When December comes, she spends a lot of time in her workshop, crafting the perfect gift for you. 

Matching dolls! That’s right; she makes two little dolls, one that’s you and one that’s her. With the paid help of a certain prospector, the little hands are magnetized, so whenever they’re close, they connect! 

Now with these “mini-yous” in the picture, sometimes you both switch dolls. You take mini-Anne wherever you go, and mini-you sits happily on Anne’s shelf with other stuffed animals and toys. 

Frederick Kreiburg “Composer”

Of course, only something special and meaningful would suffice for his muse. At first, he thought of composing another beautiful piece for you on the piano… But let’s just say he’d never be done in time with how many times he’d restart, throwing crumpled papers to the floor. 

But a bright idea flickers in his mind, and he believes it to be possible. So when Christmas Day comes, he charmingly hands you your nicely wrapped gift. 

It’s a music box. When you twist the hand crank, a familiar tune comes in little bell-like notes. It’s one of the first composed pieces he’d ever written for you! Not only can you listen to the nostalgic melody whenever you want, you can also store your pretty jewellery and accessories in the velvet music box. 

[magnoliasandarson]

ice and stone, deadweight redux

In an odd sort of self-punishing way, Jason Todd liked to visit his own grave.

When he first "came back" he had half-crawled back to the unforgiving stone and thrown up, hysterically panicking when his mind told him it was dirt leaving his lips. He had wept and screamed until his voice gave out, trapped in a hellish loop of warring phantom sensations. One second, he was burning alive- the next, suffocating on icy mud.

But that was then, and this is now.

Now, he had once again been unable to keep his cool at a Wayne family function. Now, he had shattered an expensive-looking crystal glass in his fist and stormed out of the formal dining room. Now, he was a monster to them again. Merry-fuckin-Christmas.

So, here he sat, perched six feet over where his corpse once lay, and mourned the boy that should exist instead of him.

It was oddly festive in the cemetery. Blood-red poinsettias and fragrant garlands adorned every other monument, with little LED candles glimmering here and there. The rubble of Sheila Haywood's marble gravestone sparkled in the reflection of bright city lights—like twinkling stars shining accusingly over at him. Sue him, but Jason had taken a crowbar to her marker almost immediately after arriving in Gotham.

He stared at the epitaph: Rest in Peace. There was crystal from his glass still embedded in his hand, glittering like diamonds amidst the rivulets of blood leaving his palm. His eyes followed the journey of the shimmering scarlet over his thigh and down to the powdery snow under him.

He didn't really remember crawling out. The pits had taken away the brunt of the scars, but there were still white lines traced into the tan skin of his hands. He didn't care to think about how deep the scarring must have been for it to stay.

Jason found himself trapped, staring at the red flowers blooming beneath him. Some part of him wondered if the blood would find its way to the wreckage of his casket, to the gore he'd left in his wake so long ago. Logically, he figured Dick would wander over soon, once he got done yelling at Bruce and arguing with Damian.

He never guessed it would be Tim.

"Hey," Jason would never in a million years admit it, but he was privately a little pleased that Tim had come looking for him. He had fucked up so spectacularly with his brother, had given him every reason to despise him- to want him dead, and yet, here Tim was. Awkwardly standing just on the other side of Jason's headstone, face pinched like he'd eaten an especially sour lemon.

Jason tilted his head up, something in his neck cracking as his chin left his sternum, "Sup, Timbit."

Tim looked genuinely pained as he stepped around the grave and lowered himself to sit a few feet away on the snow, "Y'know, just seeing the sights, festive lights, my brother bleeding out in snow- the holiday favorites."

Jason barked a laugh as something in his shoulders loosened, the kid was a bit of a bastard but he was funny, "You get forced to check on the charity case?"

"Drew the short straw, yeah," Tim's face was pale, save for the red coloring his nose, "do you need a med kit?"

Jason Peter Todd; Beloved Son and Friend. Jason's lips half formed the words as he read them over again; when the blood started roaring in his ears, he clenched his fist around the shards- the fresh wave of pain grounding him, "This won't kill me."

"That's not what I asked," the vehemence in Tim's words snapped Jason out of his half-daze, electric teal eyes landing on furrowed eyebrows and a stormy gaze, "Jason, are you okay?"

Jason huffed a weak imitation of a laugh, "Is anyone in this family?"

"This isn't about them," Tim immediately countered, a line on his forehead forming. Jason hated himself for it, for making Tim look like that. This was his little brother, a kid, really, and he looked twice his age because he was forced to babysit the family basketcase.

Jason used his non-gory hand to reach into his jacket pocket and take out a cigarette. "Just tired, Tim," he tucked the unlit cigarette between his lips, lighting it up as he muttered, "That's all—just tired."

Tim's face blurred behind a cloud of smoke, for a moment erasing the unlived age from his features, "You should get more sleep."

"Hypocrite," Jason snapped back with no real heat. It was true; he should have been the one telling Tim to sleep.

The smoke cleared between them as Jason took a long, deep drag. Tim looked half apologetic as he almost whispered, "This family's specialty."

Jason scoffed, unable to stop himself from nearly shouting, "You don't need to tell me that," he pointed his cigarette to the ice-glazed stone before them, "I'm not even a Wayne, Mr. CEO Drake-Wayne." It was cruel, it was mean, but Jason couldn't force himself to care.

Tim's face contorted again, coloring up to his ears with old anger and bitterness. Some cruel part of Jason's mind cheered. Finally, the kid was going to be honest. Go on, yell at the boogeyman who hurt you, tell him to go to Hell. Really end the holiday with a bang. The kid took a long, controlled breath, and evenly asked, "Are you okay, Jason?"

Jason grimaced at the bullshit question, pressing his bloody palm into the scarlet snow as he stood, flicking his spent cigarette at Sheila, "Just dead weight, Tim,"

He turned his back to the boy shivering on the snow, "That's all I ever was."

[nerdy-nook]

Do you guys have any idea how much I love Pre-Kerberos headcanons??

Oh My God. It's basically half of my Voltron thoughts (the Voltron brain worms have been eating me alive).

I love thinking about Pre-Kerberos Pidge (or should we call her Katie?) and her possibly meeting pre-kerberose Keith. Shiro has taken Keith under his wing and decides it would be a good idea to try to get him to socialize more, and it just so happens that Commander Holt's annual Christmas Party is coming up.

Normally Shiro wouldn't recommend something as intense as a party for such a socially stunted kid, but he knew the Holt's were someone he could trust. Shiro particularly hoped to introduce Keith to the Holt's daughter, Katie. She has some social issues of her own and it's been affecting her at school. Because of this, she's having trouble making friends, and some of her classmates picking on her.

Both Katie's parents and Keith's "parents" (Shiro and Adam) think it would be a good idea for them to meet. Matt, who became friends with Keith through Shiro, told Katie all about him. She was thrilled to meet someone with similar interests and couldn't wait to quote "Have an intelligent conversation with someone her own age."

Cut to the day of the party, Keith is shaking with anxiety and doesn't know if he can do this. It takes a while but Shiro and Adam manage to calm him down. Because of this, they're a little late so to make up for that Adam suggests that they grab some flowers for Colleen. They stop at a store and pick out a poinsettia because they need to have some Christmas cheer in Arizona and then are off to the Holt's.

They decide that Keith should be the one to give Colleen the flowers. Keith introduces himself to the Holts, fumbling all the way, shakily gifting the flower to Colleen while trying to make eye contact. She sees Keith's effort and is somewhat charmed by him. Once inside Colleen calls Katie over to meet him.

Katie dashes over, excited to try to make a friend, and immediately starts to bombard Keith with questions. "Hi! My name is Katie, but you probably already know that from Matt. What's it like studying at the Garrison? I heard you're at the top of your class! What's your favorite subject? Do you like Physics?"

She grabs his arm and pulls him away from the entrance towards the couch where they can talk more. Keith is bewildered but does his best to keep up with the excited young girl. Colleen smirked, thinking this was the beginning of her little girl finally having a crush. Boy was she wrong.

Katie holds Keith hostage for the rest of the night, and he finds himself genuinely enjoying the company. He's still quiet and a bit reserved but he answers, managing to ask Katie some questions about herself. He's glad he's found someone his own age he can relate to and doesn't look down on him.

By the end of the night, after dinner, both Katie and Keith fell asleep next to each other on the couch. Katie's head leaning on Keith's shoulder, little did they know this would be the start of a lifelong friendship.

[yours-etc]

12 Days of Steddie-Mas

Day 1:

I’ll Have A Blue Christmas

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

The fresh snow crunches under his boots. Flakes fall from the sky, sticking to his hat and shoulders and eyelashes. A cloudy of mist fans out from Steve’s mouth when he gasps as he slips on a patch of ice. He grips the flowers tight in his hand as he regains his balance, the box of cookies he had falls from his grip and onto the ground. Luckily it stayed closed and the cookies mostly intact when he peaked in.

“God damn this fucking snow!” Steve exclaimed, kicking the white fluff in frustration. He loved Indiana, but Jesus Christ, he was so sick of Midwestern winters.

The cemetery is empty besides Steve, the headstones, and whatever ghosts of Christmas were lingering around.

Steve finds his was to the plot he was looking for. He lays out a blanket so he doesn’t have to sit directly on the cold ground. He takes the now dead and frozen old flowers from the small vase and replaces them with the poinsettias he brought.

“Hey Mom,” he breathes out, tracing the words Roasanne Harrington Loving Wife, Mother, Sister, and Friend.

“Sorry it's been a while, you know how I hate the cold,” Steve laughs out the second half, “But you always loved Christmas, so I had to come celebrate.”

There’s no response from the stone, but Steve doesn’t mind the silence.

“This isn’t the first Christmas without you, but it’s definitely the one that hurts the most,” he starts, “because I can almost pretend to be happy. There are moments where I forget you’re gone. And then there will just be a second, usually when I’m lost in thought, or when I’m watching everyone laugh, I just think about how much you’d love them all. I’m sorry you never got to meet them, my new family I guess you could call them. You would love Robin, she reminds me of you. Her love of the holidays, her sense of humor, the way she looks at the world,” Steve sucks in a deep breath trying to stop himself from crying, tears pricking at his eyes, “Oh mom, you would have adored her.” He loses his battle with his emotions. Tears flood from his eyes and sob shudders through his body.

“I’m sorry we never got to patch things up before you left. It- it felt like there— there for a moment, at the end— we were getting close to being able to. I think after the wedding we both realized how much we missed each other. And I want you to know I don’t blame you for sticking by Dad,” Steve didn’t acknowledge the headstone to his left that had his father’s name on it.

“You loved him, and I’m sure, at some point, he was good. It’s hard to let go of things sometimes.” Steve swipes away his tears with the back of his coat sleeve. He didn’t need them freezing on his lashes.

He opened the box of cookies and took a bite of one, “I never can get them to taste the same as how you made them, I’m convinced you purposefully left out an ingredient on the written recipe.”

Steve giggles as he remembered how protective his mother was of her recipes. He quite literally could not get his hands on them till she died. And like hell was he going to let Aunt Katie take them. They were more valuable than anything left to him in the will. After the accident Steve was left with a big empty house and a stack of note card recipes.

He sold the house and laminated the cards.

With the money from the old place, he was able to but his own quaint little home. With three bedrooms and two and a half baths, Steve had finally found a home. It was a fixer upper on the outside of town, but he needed a project to keep his mind busy.

He threw his heart and soul into painting the walls a soft cream color and tearing out the drab carpet to be replaced with ward hardwood floors and redoing the front porch to fit some chairs and a swing.

He had help from Dustin, Robin, and of course Eddie— Steve played with the ring on his finger at the thought of him— but the brunt of the work was done by him.

He wanted to make his dream home. And so he did.

On the day him and Eddie moved out of their shared apartment with Robin, lots of loving tears and hugs were shared and promises of a dinner party as soon as the house was properly set up were made.

The house was a bit empty at first. They only had enough to fill half an apartment, and now they had much more space to grow. Wayne had made them a kitchen table with four chairs as a house warming gift. More tears were shed that day when he dropped it off.

Slowly but surely they filled their home with cozy couches and pillows, music, and photos of their life.

Steve didn’t need to turn around to know the footsteps approaching behind him belonged to his husband.

Eddie leaned down to give him a warm kiss on the cheek. Steve leaned into his warmth, not realizing how cold he had gotten.

“Ready to go?” Eddie asks softly, “We have to pick up little Robbie from Chrissy and Robin’s before heading to Wayne’s for dinner.”

Steve nods and grabs Eddie’s outstretched hand to help him up off the ground.

Eddie gathers up the blanket and shakes it out before bundling up under his arms. He makes a swift dramatic bow to Rosanna’s stone, “Mrs. Rose, looking as gorgeous as ever,” He doesn’t look to the left, but throws up a middle finger to Robert’s grave, “Mr. Harrington, hope hell is awful as always.”

Steve laughs at his ridiculousness before giving his mom’s stone a small kiss. Leaning his forehead against the cold rock he wishers, “You really would have loved little Robin, she reminds me of you more and more everyday. Maybe I’ll bring her next time.”

He stands to his full height and walks over to Eddie lacing their fingers together and give their hands a squeeze. Eddie squeezes back. The two of them walk back to Eddie’s new mini van, which is “totally just as metal as the old one, Stevie.”

The radio plays Christmas music as they drive off to pick up their daughter from her first ever annual Auntie Christmas Eve Eve sleepover. And in the moment Steve feels content and maybe a bit lighter.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

HAPPY DECEMBER 1st!!

Throughout the month I will be posting 12 different Steddie Christmas/Winter themed ficlets!! Just short little things to bring on the Holiday fun. Now I know this one was a bit sad… I promise there will be Happy ones too!! Anyway I hope you all enjoy <3

Day: 1 2 3 4 5 6

[holylulusworld]

Big grumpy bear - Christmas snippet

Summary: He’s grumpy. You are sweet. A match made in heaven.

Pairing: Alpha!Walter Marshall x OmegaReader

Warnings: a/b/o, a/b/o dynamics, grumpy alpha, tooth-rooting fluff, pregnant reader, overprotective alpha

Big grumpy bear masterlist

“What is this?“ Walter grumbles under his breath as he enters your office. There is a huge bouquet of roses on your desk. “Why are there roses on your desk? I got you a…” He inhales sharply as the poinsettia plant he gifted to you now stands on the windowsill. “Why did you move the plant I bought for you?”

“Uh-it needs bright daylight, alpha,” you giggle as he seems to be jealous of whoever gifted the roses to you. “You want it to survive, right?”

“Sure…sure,” he says but eyes the roses with darkened eyes. “Who gave you these?”

You’d love to tease your alpha and make him jealous but you show mercy and tell him the truth.

“Oh, these are for Susan, but she’s allergic and gave them to me,” you explain. “She didn’t want to throw them away.”

“Susan. Hmm…” Walter considers your answer. He watches you like he does with a perpetrator. Arms crossed over his wide chest, and with a grumpy expression, he watches you watching him. “That true – or did that douche not get the message last time?”

“Walter,” you purr his name as you slowly get up from your chair. His eyes immediately drop to your middle to watch you run your hand over your swollen belly, “I think everyone knows that you laid claim on me and that I love you.”

“Good,” he clears his throat. His shoulders relax and his features soften as he looks you up and down. “Your belly got bigger again.”

This time, you cross your arms over your chest, and huff. “He’s huge, like his daddy. What can I do? The baby always wants to eat. I’m hungry all the time.”

His eyes light up as you keep on talking about your baby. He hums and stuffs his hands in his pockets to search for the chocolate bar he got you on his way back to the office. 

“I’ve got something for you,” he says and offers the chocolate bar to you. “It’s your favorite with chocolate-nougat cream filling, omega. Only for you.”

“Walter,” you suppress a giggle. “How about we have lunch together first? I’ll eat it for dessert.”

“I got lunch for you too, angel,” he crouches down to cup your belly with his large hands. Walter presses his ear to your belly and closes his eyes. “It’s waiting for you at my office. You can sit on the couch and enjoy your food.”

“You think of everything, huh?” You run your fingers through his luscious locks. “My alpha takes good care of me and our pup.”

He hums happily and enjoys your attention. The last weeks were stressful, to say the least. Case after case kept him away from you and your shared home for longer than he liked.

“I’m an attentive grump.”

“No, you’re my sweet grumpy bear,” you softly say. “Big. Strong. Sweet. Cuddly.”

Walter laughs at the last one. “Cuddly?”

“Yeah. You love to cuddle me,” you point out. “You always wrap your arms around me and nuzzle your face in my neck.”

He grins and nuzzles your belly. “Let’s go to my office. The food is calling your name, and I guess little Walter is hungry too.”

“Another bite, for me,” Walter whispers in your ear. He holds a slice of apple in front of your mouth, waiting for you to eat it. “You need fresh fruits and vegetables. Doctor’s order.”

You giggle and open your mouth. “For you.” You chew the apple while wiggling on Walter’s lap. He always wants you to sit on his lap to have you as close as possible. “Hmm, tastes great.”

“I told them that I need a few days off over Christmas,” Walter casually says. “I need to take care of my omega. We will have delicious food, and a lot of free time.”

“What about gifts?”

“We will have gifts too, Y/N,” he murmurs. “Lots of it.”

“I got something nice for you. I got it after my last ultra-sound. I swear it wasn't expensive.”

“A new sweater?”

“No. I won’t tell you, Walter. Not before Christmas morning!”

“Please tell me,” Walter whispers in your ear. “Omega, tell me…”

“Not a chance…”

“Walter, what are you up to?” You wonder why Walter wanted you to stand in front of the Christmas tree he bought and decorated. He didn’t allow you to lift a finger. “Alpha?”

“I-“ he clears his throat and snaps a few pictures with his phone. “Give me a moment to sort my thoughts.”

Walter walks toward you. He looks you all over, hums, and then he goes down on one knee.

“Angel, you are my sweet, annoying wonder. You just popped up in my life and never left.” He glances at his phone. “Wait…not…this sounded awful…crap.”

Your heart flutters with every word that leaves his lips. Walter stammers but tries to play it cool. “What I wanted to tell you is that you made me a better man, and I love you for it.”

“I love you too.”

“Wait, I’m not done,” he grunts as his knee hurts from kneeling so long. “I-I want more. You already wear my mark and carry my child. But I want you to wear one more thing.”

He gets a beautiful ring out of his pocket, hopefully looking up at you. 

“Walter,” you sniffle and clap one hand over your mouth.

“I want you to wear my name…”

“What if I want you to wear mine?” He chuckles, and you laugh. “Of course, I want to wear your ring and your name.”

He exhales deeply. “Thank fuck.” 

“Same, baby,” you offer your hand to let Walter put the ring on your finger. “I love it.”

Walter slowly gets up to cup your face and kiss you softly. “So, what is my gift? The one you were talking about the whole time.”

“I got it right here, Walter,” you grab his hand to place it on your belly. “Say hi to your baby boy and your baby girl.”

Tags in reblog.