#mariah carey ; i blame christmas. that's all i can say | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

a-small-batch-of-dragons · 1 year ago

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Hot Chocolate, Ice Skates, and Prince Charming

Heya! I’ve just been quietly reading and rereading all your Roman angst and I hope you’re not tired of writing it because I have an idea 😅 How about some christmas Roman angst? I can’t think of anything specific but there’s that XD Keep up the writing and don’t feel pressured to post the fic on Christmas or to even take the request ❤️- lio-the-chaotic-nonbeanie-weenie

Hello hello! :) Absolutely adore your work, and I hope you're having a wonderful holiday! I have come with a request for whenever you're up to it. If you would, it would be amazing to see your take on a Christmas-y themed fic with a focus on disabled Virgil. I had a hankering for Hallmark styled Christmas movies lately and I was just thinking about how fun it would be in your style. Hope that's ok! – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: some ableist language

Pairings: prinxiety (i am ashamed at how long it took me to fucking remember what their ship name is jfc)

Word Count: 10,080

At some point, Virgil will work out the exact science of how much to say 'yes' to friends who desperately want to do holiday-spirit-festive-stuff because they're his friends and he loves being there to watch them love things, but he also does not enjoy dying of either pain or sensory overload. This year doesn't look to be one of those years where he does better than others, though, if being surrounded by screaming children and off-key grainy speakers belting Mariah Carey for the past Too Fucking Long is any indication. He ducks his head to avoid yet another flying something-or-other as he huddles in on himself, making sure his cane doesn't get knocked over for the fourth time in as many minutes. "Excuse me?" He turns, half expecting someone selling cotton candy or those little memorabilia keychains, and— Oh. Hello. *** Virgil, fed up with the holiday spirit, meets Roman, a man who seems far too good to be true for such an auspicious time of year. From apology hot chocolate to late-night Christmas lights, maybe this year the magic will linger just a little bit longer.

May your days be merry and bright indeed.

He sighs, squinting fruitlessly through the crowd to maybe catch sight of one of his friends' coats or something, before realizing that there's absolutely no way he's going to be able to do that when he can't even see the skating rink over the crowd gathered around the outside. And sure, he could stand, but is he going to? No. So he may as well just continue sitting here until one of them remembers that yeah, he's here too, and wades through the horde to his little bench oasis.

"Excuse me?"

He turns, half expecting someone selling cotton candy or those little memorabilia keychains, and—

Oh.

Hello.

"Sorry," the actual fucking model in front of him says, smiling sheepishly, "is the other half of this bench taken?"

"No," Virgil says way too quickly, but can you fucking blame him? The prettiest human that's ever existed just asked if he could sit down next to him. "Bench, uh—bench is very much not taken, you can—you can sit."

"Thanks."

Well, this might have backfired, because now very-pretty-attractive person is sitting right next to Virgil. And he definitely knows how to deal with this. Yeah, this is fine. This is totally fine. He just has to not keep sneaking glances at his perfectly coiffed hair…or his jawline…or the freckle right on the end of his nose…

"Is there something on my face?"

Shit. Fuck. "No, no, you're fine—" really fucking fine, dude— "sorry, I, uh, didn't mean to stare."

He chuckles. Not fair. Not fair at all. "It's okay, honey, no harm done."

Abort fucking mission, abort fucking mission, Very Pretty Person just called me a pet name, shit fuck holy shit what the fuck am I supposed to do?

He's spared the humiliation of verbal floundering when he chuckles again and holds out his hand. "Roman."

"Virgil." Please God, I hope my hand isn't too sweaty. "Nice, uh, nice to meet you."

"Likewise." Roman nods his chin toward the skating rink. "Taking a break?"

"Oh, I, uh, I'm not really big into ice skating."

"You've dragged yourself all the way to the madhouse and you're not going inside?"

"My friends," he says lamely, waving toward the entrance, "they really wanted to come, so I tagged along."

Roman hums, tilting his head. "Not very nice of them to leave you behind, is it?"

Shut up, he hisses at his heart which starts to pulse threateningly towards his throat, it's fine. This is fine. "It's fine. I don't really mind."

"Yes, being surrounded by extremely loud children and sitting right underneath a speaker," Roman says skeptically, "I'm sure."

"Well, I—uh—"

Roman sighs. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude. It's none of my business, I know."

It totally could be your business though. Like, I would have exactly zero problems if you decided it was your business.

"I'll go with you if you want."

Virgil shakes himself out of his thoughts in time to see Roman smiling softly at him and he needs to figure out what the fuck he just said real fast before he gets lost in it. "Sorry, what?"

"If you want to go skate," Roman repeats, "I know it's hard if you're by yourself, especially in a crowd this big, so I'd be happy to come with if you wanted."

His heart sinks and the cane at his side grows a little colder. He forces himself to smile and shakes his head. "Sorry, I, uh, really am not into skating."

"Come on," Roman coaxes, holding his hand out, "I promise I'll be nice."

This is torture. This is literal actual torture and Virgil is about to sink into this fucking bench because the most attractive person he's ever fucking laid eyes on is asking him to skate and he can't and he's going to have to say no and then Roman might leave and they won't get a chance to talk anymore or he'll find out why Virgil doesn't want to skate and then it might turn out that he's not actually as sweet and charming as he's acting right now and—

Virgil's eyes slide to his cane and back up to Roman's. Roman follows his gaze, a cute little wrinkle between his brows, before his eyes widen in realization and his mouth drops open.

"O-oh," he stammers, "sorry, I thought—I didn't—"

"It's fine," Virgil mutters, picking up his cane and hunching over it.

"There's—well, I suppose there's no coming back from that." Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Roman's cheeks turn a little pinker—so cute—and scratch the back of his head. "Can I buy you a hot chocolate to make up for it?"

Virgil's head snaps around. He stares at Roman. "What?"

"As an apology. I'll even make sure they put extra whipped cream on it."

He vaguely hears himself say something about sprinkles and then Roman's grinning again and sliding from the bench and vanishing into the crowd. Part of Virgil wants to immediately get up and run after him, but his hands are still wrapped around his cane and all he can do is hope to God that Roman wasn't some hallucination or fantasy and there really is a cute guy going to but him apology hot chocolate.

Five minutes pass.

Ten.

Fifteen.

No sign of Roman.

Virgil checks his phone and sees nothing—no text messages from his friends, no alarm, nothing except the battery he really should have charged before leaving the house and he now has to use extremely sparingly. The sinking feeling in his stomach is back; maybe Roman just wanted a quick and easy exit away from the pathetic whelp with the cane, or maybe he realized that there was something better he could be doing. He wouldn't blame him, not really. He might call him an ableist asshole the next time—if they ever saw each other again, but—

"Sorry, I'm so sorry," he hears breathlessly, "the line was miles long and then they couldn't find the sprinkles."

He turns, hardly daring to believe it, when he sees a massive cup of still-steaming hot chocolate with a mountain of whipped cream and red and green sprinkles held out toward him. He pries one of his hands from his cane and takes it, looking between it and Roman with disbelief. Roman smiles at him again and nods to the cup.

"Is that enough whip-cream?"

"Yeah," Virgil says faintly, "that's—I don't think I've ever seen this much before."

"Well, you deserve it," Roman says like an asshole because now Virgil has to down like half of it in one go to prevent him from seeing how fucking red he gets at that one little comment and he nearly burns his tongue off for it. "Whoa, whoa! Slow down, no one's gonna take it away from you, don't burn your mouth!"

"Too late."

Roman just chuckles again, like he's fond, like that's something they do, and he leans back against the bench. "Suit yourself, honey."

And now he has to do it again. Honestly.

You could not pay Virgil to remember what all they talk about. He doesn't know. He's too busy memorizing the crooked half-smile Roman has when he's vaguely amused by something, or the cute wrinkle that forms when he's thinking or concerned, or the way he keeps reaching out to almost touch Virgil's shoulder before changing his mind last-minute and leaning on the bench instead. He wants to reach back for him so bad but he's trying to hold the hot chocolate and his cane at the same time. His cheeks hurt from smiling and blushing and apparently Roman is really good at saying little things to make that worse. Does he remember what they are? No, because he's not paying attention to shit like that.

They're laughing at something—again, who knows what—when Roman checks his phone and sighs.

"I'm sorry, I have to go. But it was really nice to meet you and sit with you."

"You, uh, you too."

Roman grins and stands. "Happy Holidays, Virgil," he says, and disappears into the crowd.

"You too," he says, way too late, just as he realizes that he didn't even ask for Roman's number.

He looks down at the dregs of the hot chocolate and finds himself smiling slightly.

Maybe being dragged out here wasn't the worst thing after all.

He truly doesn't expect to see Roman ever again, and he may have moped around the house for a few hours upon realizing that, so it takes him by surprise when he ends up sitting in the corner of some mall as his friends go last-minute shopping and a familiar voice calls out.

"Virgil?"

He almost breaks his neck with how fast he turns around. "Roman?"

Roman grins at him, a bag over his arm, before nodding to the other chair at the table. "Do you mind if I join you?"

"Yes! I mean, no. I mean—please sit down."

"That's on me, I should've asked it in a less-annoying-to-answer way." He sets the bag on the floor and tucks his hands into his pockets. "Can I be really honest with you?"

"Sure."

"I wanted to run back to the bench the second I left because I realized I didn't ask you for your number. So, can I do that now before I forget again?"

"Yes," he says, pulling his phone out before Roman's even finished speaking, "yes, absolutely, go ahead. I wanted to do the same thing."

They exchange numbers and Virgil's in the middle of totally not putting a bunch of cute things after Roman's name because he has standards and a reputation—but come on, his last name is literally 'Prince,' what the fuck is he supposed to do?—when Roman calls his name and he looks up, surprised. Roman laughs and holds up his phone.

"Can I take a photo? For your contact?"

"Uh—um—sure?"

"Not that I'd forget what your pretty face looks like," Roman says as he takes a picture in the middle of Virgil blushing like an idiot, "but in case I want a reminder."

This. This is what he didn't remember. That Roman is apparently really good at being charming—literally Prince Charming, this is fake, this isn't real, people like Roman don't actually exist, where are the camera crews and reality show hosts?

"Alright, now that's out of the way…" Roman trails off when he notices that Virgil's still staring at the table, his cheeks bright red. "Hey, you okay?"

"I—uh—you—"

He chuckles. "Still stunnable, I see? Sorry, honey, am I being mean?"

"Okay, well, it's hard to tell how sincere you're being when you're still doing it, so—"

Roman throws his head back and laughs, holding his hands up in surrender. "Okay, you got me."

"Rude."

"You're still smiling at me, though."

"Shut up."

"Your smile is cute."

"Shut up," he mumbles again, trying to hide his face in his sleeves. Unfortunately, that means he's not balancing his cane against the table anymore and it falls to the ground with a loud clatter. A few people walking by turn to look. He goes to pick it back up only to realize Roman's already doing it, leaning it back against the table. "Oh, uh, thanks."

"Of course." He inclines his head toward some of the stores nearby. "You here by yourself?"

"No. Friends scrambling for last-minute stuff."

Roman makes a noise. "I'm not getting a fantastic impression of these friends of yours who drag you places and then leave you."

"They're not so bad, they know to pick places with easy seating so I can take breaks when I need them. Besides, they know better than to take me in certain places."

"Oh? Do tell."

"Apparently there's only so many times I can call out fancy soaps for smelling like ass before I get politely asked to leave, but—"

"Wait, wait, wait," Roman says, sitting forward with a grin, "you gotta tell me everything now, you can't just leave it there."

And so, Virgil dutifully recounts the story of the time some of his friends decided a fun way to spend the afternoon was to go into the fancy soap and other scented things shop to 'browse,' when in reality they were just going to see what the most obscure and specific scent was and mock it mercilessly. They managed to find everything from 'Bourbon-soaked Cotton' to 'Miasma,' which of course prompted Virgil to point out that they really didn't think that one through because miasma was the 'bad air' that supposedly caused things like the Black Death and you probably didn't want a candle called 'Miasma' in your house, which logically led to them all pretending to be plague doctors by wrapping up the complimentary cardboard box/bag things and holding them in front of their faces like plague doctor masks and acting like they'd discovered some new herbs to treat the nefarious diseases with.

Needless to say, they were politely asked to never come back ever again, and they definitely kept pretending to be plague doctors as they were 'escorted from the premises.'

Roman's fully collapsed back into the chair, shaking with laughter, by the time Virgil finishes telling the story. He has to stop and just look at him, because of course Prince Charming is really fucking pretty when he's laughing, and then he looks up at Virgil with that soft smile again and he can literally feel himself melting inside his hoodie.

"Well," he says through the last of the laughter, "I can see why they asked you not to come back."

"Yeah, well…" He shrugs. "Plus, if my friends actually want to get any shopping done, they decided it's best if I don't tag along so they can actually, you know, focus."

"Can't say I blame them, then. I'd be distracted by you too."

"Roman!"

"Okay, okay, I'm done, I promise." He grins. "I think your face might explode, it's so damn red."

'Yeah, well, whose fault is that?"

Roman holds a hand over his chest and bows halfway, like he's actually out of some period drama and wearing a fancy knight's costume instead of a button-down coat and scarf. "My deepest apologies, Virgil."

"Yeah, yeah, knock it off," Virgil grumbles as he chuckles.

They sit there in the quiet for a few more moments as a few groups of kids run by. The lights strung up around the pillars and various levels of the mall sparkle with that faux-snow-wet look as Christmas carols play over the speakers, Virgil taps his fingers absentmindedly to the beat, watching an ad play inside one of the stores.

"Okay, I have a potentially rude question that you can totally tell me to shut up for."

Part of Virgil immediately raises its hackles, but he turns to look at him. "Okay?"

Roman nods to his cane. "Where did you get your cane? My great-aunt uses one and she's been complaining about how boring her current one is for like, as long as I can remember, and yours is sick as hell."

It is pretty cool—it has this purple holo body and Virgil's stuck all sorts of stickers to it and the base is really nice and it's got an adjustable length too. "I can text you the name of the place?"

"Yeah, that'd be great, thank you."

He sends it off and puts his phone on the table. "That wasn't a rude question, by the way. That was fine."

Roman's shoulders visibly slump. "Okay, great, I wasn't—I really wasn't sure. I don't—sorry."

Virgil's eyes widen slightly as Roman starts to…fluster?

"I don't know a lot of people who use mobility aids on the regular and so I don't…really know what sort of things are appropriate to ask."

"You're fine," he says, still a little bemused, "you're doing great."

But then Roman smiles at him all soft again and he has to look away and cough before he starts getting all red again.

"Besides, you're right. My cane is sick as hell and it deserves compliments."

"It's definitely the coolest one I've ever seen. How did you get the stickers to stay so well?"

"There's this Etsy seller who specifically made them to go on mobility aids—she has forearm crutches and hers are decked out with cool shit, so I bought a couple for mine just to try them out and then, well, I couldn't stop."

"Could you send me the name of that place too? My aunt might want some."

"Sure, yeah, give me a moment to find it."

As he looks through his phone, he catches sight of Roman watching him. Not in a creepy way, he's just doing that fond thing where he's got his head slightly tilted and he's still smiling like he's just happy to be here with Virgil and he needs to stop thinking about it right now before his ears start going bright red too.

"There. Sent."

"Thanks, Virgil." He checks his phone just to make sure he's gotten it before he stands up. "I'd love to sit here all day with you, but I do have to run."

"Oh. Okay."

"I'll text you, okay? If you're not—I mean, if you don't have plans, I'd really like to see you again."

"Yeah," he says, grinning like an idiot, "I'd like that too."

He's still staring off in the direction Roman went when his friends come to tell him that they may have gotten kicked out of another store.

Prince Charming: I have another potentially rude question.

Virgil tries not to grin when he sees Roman's text. He knows better than that. Absolutely not.

He fails.

Me: what's up

Prince Charming: How far of a walk is too long of a walk before you need a break?

Me: walking is actually fine it's standing that makes me want to die

Me: i mean i'm not trying to hike a mountain

Prince Charming: No, I suppose that makes sense.

Me: why?

Prince Charming: One of my favorite things to do this time of year is go to the Tadford Park Conservatory. They have this really cool thing they do to get all festive and I was wondering if you wanted to go with me? They have places to sit on the way and it's basically a greenhouse so we don't need to lug big heavy coats around.

Virgil quickly looks up 'Tadford Park Conservatory' and scrolls through the pictures of the plants and decorations. Honestly, it looks stunning. He's about to say as much when he gets another text,

Prince Charming: And I have a car so I could pick you up and we could drive.

Me: that sounds really amazing when do you want to go?

Prince Charming: Are you free tomorrow?

Me: sure am

Prince Charming: Can I pick you up at 9?

Me: absolutely see you then

Prince Charming: Perfect :)

Only after Virgil's put the phone down and gone back to what he was doing does he realize he has no idea whether this is supposed to be a date or not.

Is it? No, Roman would've said. Right? That seems like something you'd say. You'd be like: 'hey, I want to do this thing with you as a date.' Or 'hey, I want to take you out and I thought we could do this.' Something like that. Something that puts a big and flashy 'this is a date' sign on it. Roman didn't do that. And Roman seems like the person who would do that. Right? Maybe Virgil should ask. That was reasonable, to ask if something was a dare. But then what if Roman hadn't intended for it to be a date? Then it would get really awkward and Virgil would have to backtrack and then Roman might offer to make it a date out of pity and then it would be even more awkward and Virgil wouldn't actually get to enjoy anything they did because he'd be too busy thinking about how awkward it was and then it would be ruined and—

No. He's just gonna act like he's going to do something fun with a friend. He does that all the time.

Just so happens that Roman's Roman.

It's gonna be fine.

So fine.

He really is so fine—okay, that's enough of that.

He definitely stresses over what he's wearing for way too long before he gets a knock on his door and he just throws a coat over it before he can overthink it and goes to meet Roman. Roman opens his car door for him like he's really some prince that crawled out of a storybook and it doesn't even feel like he's doing it out of pity, like he'd do it even if Virgil didn't have a cane, which is another thing to fret about as Roman drives them to the conservatory. As they walk inside, Virgil goes fumbling for his wallet only for Roman to reveal that he's already gotten their tickets, scanning the code at the front and going over to the coat closet.

"How much do I owe you?"

"Oh, it's on me." Roman hangs up his coat and huffs a laugh when he sees the way Virgil's staring at him. "What's that for?"

"No, really, I saw those ticket prices, there's no way—"

"My mom has a membership, we basically got in for free. It's okay, honey, you don't have to worry about it."

Virgil mumbles something about pet names being unfair as Roman chuckles and they start walking toward the doors. A wave of warm air washes over them as they step through and Virgil's eyes widen as he looks around at the plants and decorations hanging from the ceiling. It's like he's stepped into some alternate reality, trees curling up and over him in a green ceiling as vibrant flowers bloom impossibly bright, catching the glistening light as the giant ornaments overhead twist and turn in the faint breeze. The faint smell of freshly watered plants mixes with the pine and gingerbread from the lobby as they start walking and he can't pay attention to where he's going because every few seconds, he sees something else incredible. Bright blue flowers. A tree with bark like peeling parchment. A crawling vine straight out of a fairytale book. Roman keeps him as much on the path and out of the crowd as possible and he can't even spare the attention to thank him.

"It's beautiful," he manages as they near another door, "it's so pretty, Roman."

"Yes, it is."

"If you're looking at me while you say that, I swear to God—" Roman pushes open another door and they start into a room filled with flowering trees— "holy shit."

Roman chuckles and guides them to a bench underneath one of them. "Do you want to sit for a second or keep going?"

"How close is the next bench after this one?"

"Two rooms down, I think."

"I can make it until there."

They walk through a room of twisting and turning jungle trees, ferns and other smaller plants hiding between the leaves. They pass a pond of koi fish swimming underneath a massive tree. The room with the bench has a long, clear pool in its center, flanked by paths through what look to be walls of moss and other ferns, a waterfall at the far end. Roman walks them carefully over one of the paths to a bench tucked into a little alcove, through which they can see the pool and the bright green foliage on the other side. Virgil sits down, still spellbound at the room.

"I'd ask if you were enjoying yourself," comes Roman's voice, "but I think I know the answer."

"It's like I've been transported to some fantasy realm, this is so cool. How have I never known this existed?"

"A lot of people don't come here. Which is good because I'm selfish and I really like when there's not a lot of crowds." Roman sits back, one leg slung over the other. "But—I don't know why. Maybe it's because they think plants are boring or something."

"They're fucking wrong."

He chuckles. "Yeah, I think so too. I'm glad you like it."

"Okay, it's my turn to ask a potentially rude question."

"Shoot."

"Why here? I mean, it's gorgeous, and the decorations really help, but it's not—a conservatory isn't really what I think of when I think of festive stuff."

Roman sighs. Ripples from the waterfall spread out along the pool's surface. "I don't know, really. I think it's just because holidays are really hectic for me and this place…never really feels like that. It's always sort of like this, calm, serene. Quiet. I think…I think I just really like that."

Virgil turns at the wistful note in Roman's voice, watching him send one of those soft smiles at the pool. The greenery around them almost seems to curve, like the petals of a flower around its center. Roman…fits here, like he really is some prince that even nature itself can't help but adore.

…fuck, he's so far gone.

He loses track of time as they sit there, just enjoying the still quiet of the room. The ferns have their own smell, soft and sweet, that mixes with the crisp dampness of the water as some misters turn on to water the plants. He holds his hand out in front of one, just for a second, watching the droplets catch on his hand and sparkle as he turns them in the light. Roman's side presses against his after a while and he finds himself lost slightly to the solid comfort of it. And then, well, then that's all he thinks about for a while.

At least until his stomach growls and ruins the moment.

"Come on," Roman chuckles, "the food's not far from here."

The cafe bustles with energy after being in that quiet room for so long, and Virgil quickly finds a table to sit at while Roman goes and gets the food. He does have to slightly threaten Roman into letting him pay for their lunch, but Roman concedes after a while and goes to stand in line. He pulls out his phone to send the few pictures he remembered to take to the group chat, when suddenly—

"Shame on you, young man!"

Virgil startles so badly that he almost drops his phone. He looks up to see a stern older woman glaring at him, hands on her hips. "Uh—"

"How dare you?" she says again, wagging her finger at him. "You go and find whoever you stole that from and give it back right this instant!"

"I don't—what—what are you talking about?"

"What do you mean, what am I talking about?" She points at his cane. "That does not belong to you! You're old enough to know better, especially to steal something like that, your parents would be so disappointed in you!"

Oh. Oh, fuck, it's one of these. Disgust and embarrassment crawl up his throat as a few people at the surrounding tables start to look over. He swallows. "Actually, that is mine."

The woman scoffs. "What do you think, I was born yesterday?"

"That is my cane," he says, voice a bit firmer. "I bought it with my money, I use it for my disability. I didn't steal it. It's my cane."

She looks him up and down over the rim of her glasses. "You? You expect me to believe a young person like you uses a cane? What on earth could you possibly need a cane for?"

And really, he should be used to it by now, he's had ableist assholes like this yelling at him for actual years, he shouldn't be this upset over it. But goddamnit, this day was going well. He was having a good time. And now someone is telling him his disability doesn't exist and he should be ashamed for using a mobility aid and he can feel his eyes starting to water even as he struggles for words.

"Excuse me."

Roman. He looks up to see Roman setting a tray with their food on the table, his hand coming to rest on Virgil's shoulder.

"Would you like to explain why you're bothering someone you don't know?"

The woman splutters. "I—well, I—"

"It is none of your business what someone else does to take care of themselves," Roman says, cutting her off firmly, "you do not get to make assumptions about someone else's life and act as though you know the truth. No one would be so rude as to insist you don't need glasses, would they?"

"People your age don't need canes!"

"And people your age should know to treat people better." Roman gives her a look that's so profoundly disappointed that he can see a few people wince in sympathy. "This time of year is supposed to be about sharing compassion and kindness. I hope for your sake you learn that this season."

He turns his back pointedly and the woman shuffles off without another word.

"Are you okay?" Roman asks, his voice so soft and worried that it almost gives Virgil whiplash. "I'm so sorry that happened."

"It's not your fault," he mumbles, "and…thank you."

"You don't need to thank me for being a decent person, honey."

"Yeah, well…" Roman's hand is still on his shoulder and he dares to lean into it a little. "Still. Thanks."

Roman still looks a little worried but he pushes Virgil's food towards him. "Here. Eat."

"Thanks."

Roman doesn't sit across from him. He sits next to him and after a moment, lets his leg rest against Virgil's. Virgil almost chokes on his sandwich but quickly shakes his head when Roman looks up, concerned.

"Is this alright?"

"Yeah, it's…more than alright." Virgil smiles. "You're really great, Roman."

Nice one, asshole.

"So are you." After a moment, his smile widens. "When we're finished, do you want to go see the desert room? There's a bench in there too."

"Cactuses?"

"I think it's technically cacti, but yes."

"Don't make me look up grammar while I'm eating."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Virgil gets another text the night before he's supposed to get lunch with Roman. He peers at his phone, sitting up from his horrible position on the couch.

Prince Charming: Hey, I'm sorry to do this so last minute, but my boss really wants me to come in in the morning tomorrow. I don't think I'll be able to come pick you up to go to the place.

Me: is there public that can get me there?

Prince Charming: You'd have to walk a fair ways and it's not like it's nice outside right now.

Virgil glances at the snowstorm outside and winces at the thought of all the ice. He's about to figure out a way to propose a rain check—or snow check—without upsetting either of them when his phone buzzes again.

Prince Charming: I mean, if it's not too much of an ask, I could always pick you up before I go into work and you could come with me? I don't think it'd be longer than a few hours at the most and then we could just go straight there afterwards.

Me: what do you mean come to work with you?

Prince Charming: I could pick you up and drive us both to the arena. There are the offices and stuff upstairs where you could sit and work or do something until I'm done then we could go?

Me: would your boss care that there's just some random person with you?

Prince Charming: You're not just some random person, Virgil. And no, he won't care.

Virgil's too caught up in the fact that Roman said he's not just some random person to really think about it when he sends back a 'yes,' nor did he really read the part where Roman mentioned an arena.

But sure enough, that's what they pull up to the next morning and Virgil's left blinking at the giant sign that says 'Stadium Entrance' as they get out of the car. He glances at Roman, who looks truly nonplussed as he leads the way to the door. He waves at the person at the front—Virgil waves too on instinct—and nods toward the elevator.

"I told them I was bringing someone, you can go on up and find somewhere to sit, if you want. I can come with too if you'd rather?"

"You, uh, you can go. I think I can find something."

"If anyone tries to give you shit, just say you're with me, okay?"

He huffs a laugh. "What, are you some kind of famous person?"

Roman laughs too, but it comes out a bit too forced. "Something like that."

And before he can ask what the fuck that means, Roman's walking off down another hallway and Virgil just shrugs and goes to find somewhere to sit. The elevator takes him up to something that looks almost like an office and he wanders into an open room, sitting down and shooting off a text to let Roman know where he is. He gets a quick acknowledgment and that he'll let him know when he's done. He switches over to the thing he'd been looking at in the car and loses himself quickly in the mindless scroll of the Internet.

He's not sure how much time passes before he glances around for an outlet to charge his phone. He drags a chair over to the corner and plugs in the charger, looking around as he waits for the little beep that lets him know it's working. There's a set of screens on the far wall, each showing a different camera, he presumes. One of them looks out at a loading dock, one of them shows a skating rink where someone's training, one of them shows another empty rink, and the last one has another door—probably a secondary exit of some kind. He shrugs and looks back at his phone.

"Excuse me?"

He looks up to see a man with glasses and a big coffee mug with cat whiskers peering through the door. "Uh, hi?"

"Are you supposed to be in here?"

"I, um, I'm with Roman? He said I could find somewhere up here to sit?"

"Oh, you must be Virgil!" Virgil blinks as the man grins and comes over to offer his hand. "I'm Patton, nice to meet you."

"Hi, Patton. Uh—you are? Sorry."

"No, it's fine, you're all good. I'm one of the event coordinators for the arena. Roman talks about you all the time, I was wondering if we'd ever get to meet you."

"Yeah, I, uh…nice to meet you too." Virgil shuffles a bit. "You, uh, have you worked with Roman for long?"

"Sort of—I don't work with Roman directly, but I see him when he's booked here. They've decided to train here this year, which is exciting, but he's so busy all the time." Patton grins, crossing his arms. "But I guess you know that, huh?"

"Yeah, I—wait, you—" he frowns. "What do you mean 'booked here?'"

"For a show or a competition or something." Patton leans down, muttering like they're sharing a secret. "Between you and me, I don't blame you for sitting up here. It gets cold in the rinks, doesn't it?"

"Sorry—can we go back another step?" Virgil shakes his head. "What do you mean, for a show or competition?"

Patton frowns. "For the season."

"What season? Season of what?"

He frowns for another second, before something like exasperation makes him sigh. "Did Roman tell you what he does?"

"No. Not even a little bit."

Patton sighs again and nods to the screens. "That's him, on the camera there."

Virgil turns to look. The only person on the screens is the one skating. Wait—

"That's Roman?"

"Roman Prince, reigning champion," Patton says, coming up behind him as Virgil stares at Roman training on the ice, "I'm not that surprised he didn't tell you, he's surprisingly private about his off-stage life."

Roman skates. Roman is a figure skater. Roman competes at a professional level as a skater. Roman is the fucking reigning champion?

He hears Patton say something about getting back to work but if he needs anything, let him know. He must respond—he hopes it wasn't too rude—but he's too focused on the way Roman is literally fucking dancing on the ice right now. He looks like he's at the Olympics. Shit, has Roman been to the Olympics? Why didn't Roman tell him he skates for a living? Why is he here while Roman is training? And what the fuck did Patton mean about Roman talking about him all the time?

He completely fucking forgets about his phone as he watches Roman skate. Every so often someone else skates up to him—his trainer, probably, even though Roman called him his boss. Shit, Roman really didn't want him to know about this, did he? Is he gonna be mad that Virgil's watching him?

He's really fucking good.

It feels like no time at all before Roman's disappearing from the frame and then he gets a text that he's almost done, coming up to find him, and Virgil's still staring at the screen trying to fit the pieces together that Roman's a professional skater who talks about him to the people he works with.

He doesn't quite manage that by the time Roman's pushing the door open with a breathless smile, his hair slightly messy, and his cheeks glowing from the exercise.

"Hey, sorry about that, but I'm all done, we can…"

He trails off when he notices Virgil staring at the screens, smile fading a bit.

"Right," he says, mostly to himself, "forgot about those."

"You, uh," Virgil mumbles, "so you skate?"

"Yeah. I skate."

There's a moment. Someone down the hall opens a door.

"I'm sure you have questions," Roman says finally, "but can I answer them in the car?"

"Yeah, sure."

Roman's quiet as they go back downstairs, waving to the front desk person again. They get in the car and start driving. Virgil bites his tongue for as long as he can before they finally stop at a red light and he musters his courage.

"Why didn't you tell me you skate?"

He hears Roman sigh. "I didn't mean to keep it a secret from you, it's just…I didn't know how you'd react."

"Did you think I wouldn't think it was a real job, or something?"

"What? No, no, I just—I didn't know if you watched skating or followed it at all or—or if you'd know who I am, or something like that." The light turns green and Roman turns onto the next road. "And then…well, it's not like I know what you do for a living either."

"I'm a systems engineer."

"Oh. That's cool."

"Thanks."

They drive for a few more minutes.

"Patton said you're quiet about your private life," he says, like an asshole, and he wants to take it back as soon as it comes out but Roman's already answering.

"Yeah, well, I'm not famous famous like some people are, but I'm…people know me. And it's not like I want people poking into what I do when I'm not being Roman Prince on the ice. Plus, especially with it being the holidays…" He trails off and sighs again. "Sorry, I don't want to bring the mood down."

"You're not bringing the mood down, you're just talking. You can tell me if you want to."

They stop at another red light and Roman looks at him. Really looks at him, like he's trying to figure out if Virgil's telling the truth. Which he is, he totally is, and he hopes Roman can see that. He must, or at least decide Virgil's not just asking to be nosy, because he looks away again.

"There are people who are into figure skating all year long and that's great, but they're, like, fans. And I love my fans, really, but I don't—sometimes it gets a bit much, you know?"

"Yeah."

"And then there are people who just like it for the holidays because it's 'festive.' Like, 'oh, let's go ice skating, it's Christmas,' or 'oh, let's go see a skating show because it's winter,' that sort of thing. And then they do it, and then it's done, and they go home and have their actual holidays together, and…"

Something terribly sad enters Roman's voice as they sit in the snow at the light, and Virgil suddenly has the image of a performer's smile fading as the lights go out. And it strikes him how terribly lonely what Roman's describing sounds, like he's just something people check off their lists and then move on with those they actually care about. And how much Patton seemed to understand that of course Roman didn't tell him what he did for a living.

"You want people to want to spend time with you for who you are," he says quietly, "not what you are."

"Yeah," Roman says back, equally soft, "that's it."

He looks down at his cane, spinning it in his hand. "I get that."

"I know you do." Roman reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder. "I really didn't mean to keep secrets."

"It's fine, I get it. But thank you for telling me."

The light turns green and they start driving again. The silence feels gentler, somehow, Roman even starts humming under his breath. It's that same song that was playing over the speakers when they first met at the park.

Wait a fucking second.

"You asked me to skate."

"Huh?"

"When we met, at the park, you offered to skate with me. Even though you skate for a living and someone might have recognized you."

"What was I supposed to do?" Roman sighs, but this time it's clear he's going for drama. "I was talking to this cute guy and my brain fell out of my ears."

"You—what?"

Roman glances over and chuckles. "You're getting all blushy again, you know."

"I—what—shut up!"

"Did Patton also say I talk about you all the time?"

"Maybe!"

"Well, there you go, cutie. Wha—hey, hey! I'm driving!"

"You'll fucking live, you absolute dick."

But Roman's laughing again and he looks so happy that Virgil can't be mad for very much longer. And, you know, he is driving, and he would like to make it to the restaurant in one piece.

"You're paying for lunch, you know."

"Whatever you say, cutie."

"If you dragged me all the way out here for nothing, I swear to God—"

"We're almost there, I promise, I promise."

Virgil groans, slumping down in the car seat at Roman makes yet another turn. Roman texted him two hours ago asking if he was free and could they go somewhere really quickly, he promises it's worth it, and Virgil had been too caught up in the sappy floaty feeling of Roman's excitement to say no, and now here they are, driving who the fuck knows where, in the dark, up a path that barely has any lights.

"How do you even know we're not getting lost?"

"We're not lost, I know exactly where we are."

"So if I got out a paper map and said 'where are we,' you could point to it and you'd be right?"

"Well, I'd be more impressed that you had a paper map with this exact area that you could be accurate about—"

"What, you don't think I've got maps?"

"I'd never doubt your map capabilities, Virgil."

"You'd better not, the atlas my mom got me for fourth grade would be so disappointed at you when I throw it at your head."

"I'm sorry, you're the one throwing it and it's going to be disappointed at me?"

"Yeah, 'cause you did something so outrageous it's made me need to throw it."

Roman chuckles as he makes another turn—are they going up a hill or something? "My mistake. Really, we are almost there."

"Uh-huh."

"What, you don't believe me?"

"I believe you about as much as I did the last ten times you've said it."

"I have not said it ten times!"

"No, you've said it way more than ten times."

"Well, if you keep asking 'are we there yet,' I'm going to keep answering you."

"Are we there yet?"

"Almost."

"Are we there y—" Roman reaches over and pushes his shoulder lightly. "Okay, okay, I'll knock it off."

"Look, see that sign?"

Virgil sits up and peers through the windshield at the sign that reads 'Observation Point.' "Yeah."

"That's where we're going."

"Fine, fine, you're not a liar."

"Thank you."

Sure enough, it really is only a few more moments before Roman's pulling the car out onto a large flat overlook and putting it in park. Virgil looks around, trying to figure out what exactly they're doing all the way out here and why Roman was so insistent that they go tonight, when Roman turns the headlights off. "Whoa, whoa, what are you doing?"

"Relax, I'm keeping the heat on so we don't freeze." He nods out the window. "Look."

"I can't see shit, Roman, look at what?"

"Give your eyes a second to adjust."

He looks, truly not expecting to see anything. It's just blackness, the afterglow of the headlights still burning his retinas out. He squints. There are surprisingly few clouds out tonight, especially considering the winter weather they're supposed to get later this week. He can sort of see something through the gloom, below them, but it's not that clear yet. Slowly, little by little, his eyes adjust and…

"Oh," he says in a rush of breath.

The entire city sprawls out beneath them. Glittering and shimmering houses, buildings, Christmas lights and flashing decorations. The snow sparkles with it, the glow almost a sea of wonder against the inky blue night sky. Reds, greens, blues, purples, far-away inflatables that must be giant but look like nothing more than storybook characters from this high up. Some of the houses closest to them have trees, right out front, others have sleighs and reindeer, even more have snowmen just barely lit by the edges of the shining lights.

It's incredible.

"I didn't think I'd get a chance to see it this year," Roman says, as if he's afraid to break the silence, "but then it cleared up and I knew it'd be perfect."

Virgil can't say anything. He's too spellbound.

"Thank you for coming with me."

"Thank you for asking. This is—holy fuck, Roman, this is so fucking cool."

"I'm glad you like it. I was a bit worried with the roads, sometimes they don't clear them properly, but at least we can sit in the car instead of having to walk or something."

Maybe it's the fact that he's tired, or the surge of sappiness when Roman had said he'd known it'd be perfect and he'd reached out for Virgil, or maybe he's been holding this in since Roman held out that stupid hot chocolate. Whatever it is, Virgil sniffles.

"Whoa, hey, hey," Roman murmurs right away, reaching out for him like the stupidly perfect Prince Charming, "what's wrong, honey? Are you okay? Did I say something wrong?"

"No," Virgil spits through his stupid tears, "no, you did—you did everything right."

"O..kay?"

"You did everything right," he says again, "you—you made sure we could drive so we could just sit in the car and you picked me up so you could drive me instead of making me take the bus and you asked how much walking was too much walking and you stood up for me and you asked me if it was rude before you asked about my cane and you got me hot chocolate and you're—you're—"

An actual sob chokes out of his mouth and he claps a hand over it, only for Roman to let out a noise of dismay and coaxes his hand away, holding it tightly. He leans over the console and tenderly wipes away one of Virgil's tears and it's too soft and gentle and perfect—

"You did everything right," Virgil manages, not daring to look at Roman's concerned face, "you—you're too sweet."

Roman lets out the softest noise and strokes his cheek again. "You're worth being sweet to, honey."

"Shut up, you're gonna make me cry more."

"That's okay, honey, you can cry. That's—it's a good cry, right?"

"Yeah, you bastard, it's a good cry." He sniffles. "Now shut up."

"Can I shut up and hug you?"

"Yes."

And goddamnit, an awkward hug where Roman has to lean halfway out of his seat over the console to get his arms around him should not feel so warm and safe and comforting, but fuck it, Virgil's already crying into his shoulder anyway, he might as well fully commit to it. If Roman has a problem with contorting himself to hug a sobbing mess, he doesn't say anything about it. No, he just keeps humming and shushing Virgil with sweet nonsense, his hand alternating between carding through his hair and stroking his cheek. It's not fair, and Virgil's not giving it up for anything.

Eventually, his tears run dry and he scrubs his nose with his sleeve as Roman sits back down, keeping one hand on the back of his neck. Fingers play with the hair right above his collar. He sniffles.

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize, honey, it's okay. You didn't do anything wrong."

"I just cried all over you."

"Oh no," Roman says dryly, "however will I survive such a terrible fate?"

"Yeah, yeah, shut up."

Roman chuckles, fingers still scratching lightly at Virgil's scalp. "Really, Virgil, it's alright. I'm just glad I'm not the only one getting all sappy."

If he were less emotionally drained from crying, or if Roman's fingers were less good at making him melt into a boneless little puddle, he might have had a retort for that. Instead, he just looks out over the lights in all their sparkling glory and sighs, leaning into the touch. Roman starts humming again and there they sit, enjoying the night.

"If I fall asleep," he mumbles, "will you wake me up?"

"If you fall asleep, I'll drive you home and then wake you up so we can get you to bed."

"Fine."

He tries. He tries doggedly to stay awake, to not miss a moment of this, of the lights, the night, of Roman and his stupid Prince-Charming self. But he must fall asleep, or at least get close to it, because the fingers in his hair slow, and stop. Roman chuckles softly, and the car starts, and they drive through the night. And for a moment, as they leave behind the sea of lights, he thinks that Roman lied to him—they can't be in a car, just driving home.

Not when it feels like they're flying.

+1.

It's really a surprise that he managed to hold it back for this long, but it was eventually going to happen.

The swirling mist of a monster that is his anxiety has been biding its time, waiting for him to let his guard down to spring out and warp him up in its stupid fucking mess and make him stop appreciating everything that's going on and make it just the fucking worst.

Roman Prince is too perfect, it decides. There's no way this all gets to happen to him and there's no catch. The image of the hidden cameras and the reality show crew comes back; when do they jump out and say it's all fake? When is the illusion going to shatter?

Maybe he's just biding his time and trying to find a way to exit Virgil's life and never return. Maybe he has a partner, or something, and he really thinks Virgil's just his friend. Maybe he's not even gay. Maybe Virgil's just a fling and he's going to leave as soon as New Year's is over. Maybe he's going to get swept up in his life of professional figure skating again and Virgil will be stuck with chasing down his shows and competitions to even see him ever again. Maybe they're going to become the friends that aren't really friends but they still have each other's number for some reason.

Maybe—

"You're thinking too loudly," Roman murmurs from where his face is tucked near the crook of Virgil's shoulder, reaching out to pause the movie, "are you okay?"

Virgil sighs, leaning back into Roman's embrace. He'd surprised him by coming over—well, no, he'd texted to ask if Virgil would mind if he came over, but that was out of nowhere, so it counted—and then they'd ordered way too much food and put on a Christmas movie, and Virgil had pushed for The Nightmare Before Christmas and Roman hadn't protested. And then Roman had asked if he could cuddle him—"Because it's a crime to leave you sitting there on the couch, in the dark, like you have no one to cuddle you, honey."—and then he'd wrapped his arms around him and it'd been all warm and soft and cozy and Virgil hadn't wanted to move to get his hot chocolate from the coffee table that probably wasn't even hot anymore—

"You're still drifting." Roman sits up, pulling away. "Is everything okay?"

Virgil bites his lip. "It's dumb."

"I like dumb things."

"You'll laugh."

"Only if you say something funny."

"You'll be mad," he says in a very quiet voice, and he feels Roman stutter above him. He squeezes his eyes shut.

"Oh, honey," he hears distantly, before the couch is shifting under him and there are warm hands carefully cupping his face. "Will you look at me, please?"

He doesn't want to. He wants to stay here in the dark with Roman touching him like he's something precious, but then Roman's calling his name and fuck it, he can't disappoint Roman, so he opens his eyes. Roman smiles at him with that same fucking soft smile that's been taking him out at the knees since day one, and he can tell he's pouting before Roman even says anything.

"I'm not going to be mad," he says with all the patience in the world, "if something's bothering you, I want to know about it. Please, tell me?"

"You're not leaving, right?"

As soon as the words leave his mouth and Roman scrunches up his face in confusion, he wants to run away and hide under all his blankets and never speak to anyone again.

"Never mind. Forget it."

"What do you mean, am I leaving?"

"I said forget it. See? Dumb. Never mind."

"Don't do that," Roman chides gently, pulling his focus back, "don't hide from me. What did you mean?"

Virgil sighs, trying to not lose himself in how warm Roman's hands are. "It's just—everyone leaves. Sort of. I know—I mean I get it. I get how these things go. You—it's the holidays, right? You get all the emotions and then New Year's happens and you move on. I know that happens, I know that's how it works sometimes, and it's fine, I get it, but—"

"Slow down." He sits up. "Why do you think I'm leaving?"

Fuck it. "Because you're too perfect, okay? You—you're sweet and kind and you help me with everything and you're fun to be around and you're funny and you're smart and—and you're really fucking attractive, and I don't—" he takes a deep breath— "I don't know what to do about it anymore, okay?"

Roman's quiet. He's quiet for a long moment. Then his hands leave Virgil's face and he cringes, curling up in on himself—he's done it, he's made Roman leave, it's his fault, it's all his fault, they didn't even make it to New Year's—

His eyes fly open in shock when Roman suddenly hugs him tightly. His breath leaves him in a rush as Roman squeezes, holding him with such a fierce strength that he just ends up going limp in his hold.

"I don't know," Roman growls, "what sort of absolute assholes have been so cruel to you that you think everyone is just going to leave, but they'd better fucking hope we never meet."

"Wh—what?"

"You're fucking perfect too, Virgil. You're smart and you make me laugh and you're genuinely kind to people and you—you make me feel safe, okay?" He pulls back but somehow this is worse because now they're just staring into each other's eyes. "You're amazing. Why the hell would I want to leave you?"

"I—um—well—"

"I don't want to leave," Roman confesses, and fuck, Virgil can hear his heart breaking, "do…you don't want me to leave, do you?"

"No," he says in a rush, "no, I don't want you to leave."

"Great, 'cause I wanna be stuck with you until you're sick of me."

"I'm not gonna get sick of you—"

"Well, I'm not gonna get sick of you either—"

"Great!"

And then he's the one leaning forward to knock Roman over with a hug. Roman wraps his arms just as tightly around him and suddenly there's a kiss being pressed to his head.

Everything stops.

"Shit," Roman breathes, and it curls around his ear, "I…I meant to ask if that was okay before I did it, I'm sorry, I—"

But Virgil's already turned and pressed a kiss of his own to Roman's jaw. He feels more than hears Roman's breath stutter, the chest under him jumping as Roman turns to look at him. Like this, their faces are barely a few inches apart, and Roman smells like hot chocolate.

"It's okay," Virgil mumbles into their shared space, "it's…more than okay."

And there Roman goes, curling his mouth up into that fucking soft smile again, and then he's sliding a hand up to cup the back of Virgil's. "So I can kiss you?"

"Yes, you can kiss me."

Fuck, he tastes like hot chocolate too.

"I'm not leaving," Roman whispers against his lips, not bothering to pull away, "I'm not leaving you, baby."

"Fuck."

"No good?"

"Very good," Virgil mumbles, leaning forward again, but then his phone is buzzing and he's pulling back with a curse to make it shut the fuck up. Roman comes up and wraps his arms around him again, hands slowly playing with the hem of his sweater as his chin hooks over his shoulder. "I'm almost done, I promise."

"Am I 'Prince Charming' in your phone?"

"No," Virgil says, like a liar as he throws his phone onto the floor.

"Aww, that's so cute, baby."

"Shut up and kiss me, Princey."

"As you wish," Roman murmurs, and then Virgil doesn't have a chance to think about the fact that he just called Roman 'Princey.'

They don't end up finishing the movie, but Roman says they can watch the rest over breakfast instead.

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#dragonbabbles #sanders sides #roman sanders #virgil sanders #prinxiety #fic

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giggly-squiggily · 1 year ago

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miss rey is having a sick day and she's gonna spend it sending you kny modern au christmas thoughts 😌 working in this goddamn elementary school has gotten me into the spirit for the first time in years and i need to embrace this while it lasts.

growing up sanemi never really got anything big for christmas, over the course of november he mostly necessities like new shoes when his old ones didn't fit anymore or a winter jacket and then on actual christmas day maybe a dvd or something handmade. it got a little better once he was old enough to do parttime jobs but even then he used most of his earnings to get something nice for his siblings. when it came to sanemi money was always tight and he was okay with that if it meant genya or the others could get something out of it. and when he got older and his friend group started to give each other christmas presents, the first time they'd come up to him like "we got you something" he'd be like "... why would you do that 🤨" - literally the second kanae hears that he never really got nice christmas presents you KNOW she's dedicating eight months of the year to plan something for him and it makes him cry every single time.

with tengen it's the same thing but sort of in the other direction. got everything he never wanted for christmas every year which was annoying and draining and just felt so detached and performative. the first time makio hands him a box with self made cookies and says "i'm sorry, i would've bought you something but i didn't find anything you'd like" he almost proposes on the spot because it just feels so great to have people actually put thought into their gifts for him and not just grab the shiniest looking thing from a shelf. (not that he doesn't love getting shiny things but only if it's a shiny thing that the person picked specifically because they thought he'd like it)

obanai is the grinch for exactly however long it takes him to discover that mitsuri loves christmas more than anything. once he's a bit more open to the idea he also discovers that it's actually fun to exchange gifts and spend time together during the holidays (who can blame him, he never had that prior to going to university) and he gets really into it. people are always surprised by his great gift giving skills but it really pays off to sit in the corner and listen in on conversations quietly, he really picks up on a lot of wishes that way and when december rolls around he just knows what everyone wants or needs. on their first christmas together mitsuri gives him a little scarf she made and says "so kaburamaru doesn't get sick" and obanai decides right then and there that christmas is his favorite holiday of the year. (ONLY christmas eve and christmas day though and ONLY for exchanging gifts and spending time together, all the blinking lights and santa merch and mariah carey can go to hell)

tanjiro is always all over the place during christmas time because there's just so much to do and so much to take care of and oh son of a monkey i have to go gift shopping and oh fudge what am i gonna cook and fiddlesticks i forgot to put the tree up and GOD FUCKING DAMNIT INOSUKE STOP EATING THE ADVENT WREATH - it's a lot. so on actual christmas day he's usually exhausted and his friends have to tie him to his seat so he doesn't continue to run around and try to do everything for everyone. he still loves it tho, he's always participating in social projects around that time as well and getting gifts for homeless people, children in poverty and volunteering to dress up and collect kids' wish lists in hospitals etc.

sabito on the other hand grew to despise christmas because of his job at the elementary school. it's just too much. all the music and all the glitter and the all the christmas shows he has to attend (and organize!), the baking and crafting and reading christmas stories and looking out so children don't burn themselves with the candles and putting up that dusty old tinsel that makes his eyes water and pretending that santa is real, christmas is the bane of his existence. of course he gets his loved ones some gifts and maybe goes out to eat with them but once that's done he immediately goes home and sleeps through til new year's eve. everybody knows not to say merry christmas until sabito has left because one time they all said it when they met up during the holidays and when they got to sabito he went "if i have to say that one more time i'm gonna kill each and every one of you and then myself" and now they just do it when he's not around.

that's all the thoughts i have for now, sorry for barging in with this long ass ask like that 💀 stay hydrated, i send you a fluffy blanket and a kiss on the forehead but with a mask so you don't catch my cough :3

Oh Rey! *hugs and brings all the healing vibes and tissues* I'm sorry you got sick; something about this season just brings all the germs! And lets go getting into the spirit of things! :D

IJKRKJERJEJKRJ AHHHHHHH THESE ARE FREAKING DELIGHTFUL! Sanemi prioritizing his siblings and necessities is such a canon thing he'd do; and Kanae making it her life's mission to give him a good christmas is so KJEJJREKJREJ She's the queen of gifting- she knows everyone's taste and preferences and while it takes a while to get any info out of him, she'll find him something special. He's always so touched by it and makes it a point to do the same for her- saving up to get her one of those nice hair ornaments or dedicating any free time he has to making her something from scratch. He is a jack of no trades, but the effort is there and seeing her genuinely love it is the best gift to him.

Oh my god YES! I feel like Tengen doesn't really like christmas all that much? Mainly like you said, gifts always felt draining and preformative and also, despite growing up in a large family, maybe it didn't feel like a loving home? (Going a little into his canon background there) Like- his family held christmas parties every year but gifts were more like bragging rights over their guests vs actual care and thoughtfulness. Christmas with the girls is so much more special to him cause everything feels like they really thought of one another. (Also Tengen liking shiny things makes me laugh- he's like a crow ajerkjajekraejrj)

KLJERKJLEJKLRJKERJ OBANAI HELP! Grinch 363 days a year- the last two it fades away, especially with Mitsuri. He's a gift giving god; rivaling Kanae with his observation skills and such. You know he's always dressing Kaburamaru in his little scarf during the colder months- even when it starts to get a little worn down. (Mitsuri makes it her new tradition to make him a scarf every year after that.) They'd be the couple sneaking kisses under the mistletoe throughout the party.

TANJIRO YES! He's a little busy bee running about during December; baking treats and keeping Inosuke off the advent wreath (that's freaking hilarious oh my god) and volunteering and just- all of it! Christmas rolls around and he's so tired he can't even keep his eyes open for a good few hours into the day. It's his little reward for working so hard; a nice break on the big day ajerjaejarj

Sabito hating christmas is a whole mood akjekjrakjejkrajkerja He might have liked it at one point, but after working at an elementary school and being overdosed with the holiday spirit he is so burned out jareajreajjaerjkeajr (NOT HIM QUOTING ROSE KLJWJRKEJRJEJR) Of course he's gonna keep the vibes up for the children and his love ones but when the day is done he's hibernating with a heated blanket ajkaerjae

Just to add on:

Akaza wins ugly christmas sweater every year; he has so many cause he unironically thinks they're cute (and they keep him nice and toasty during the cold months). He gets matching ones for his favorite/only nephew Rui; they take pictures every year and have a whole album dedicated to it.

Douma is a pro figure skater without the pro part; good luck keeping him off the ice this season, especially if you put on "Theme of King JJ"; he also sings christmas songs non-stop and while he has a nice voice and can carry a tune, there comes a time when someone's about to shout "STOP SINGING ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS, IT'S FREAKING JANUARY!"

Zenitsu is absolutely the one to plan a trip to a warmer part of the world during winter; he cannot stand the cold whatsoever and saves up every year to escape for a week or two. If it happens to fall during Christmas, he facetimes everyone with a drink in hand on the beach wearing pineapple sunglasses he bought at the souvenir shop like the absolute tourist he is.

Thank you for sharing these, Rey! They are absolutely delightful! :3

#squiggily speaks #myreygn #friend :3 #hey it's Rey!#demon slayer modern au #headcanons #christmas headcanons #christmas #God I love them ajerkjaerkjaejkrjearjlae #These made my heart happy :)

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clarktooncrossing · 1 year ago

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HEY THERE PEOPLE OF TODAY AND ROBOTS OF TOMORROW! IT IS I, SANTA CLARK! Chestnuts are roasting on an open fire. Jack Frost is nipping at your nose. Mom and dad can hardly wait for school to start again. All the dogs in the neighborhood somehow learned to bark Jingle Bells in sync. Yet retail workers are still more annoyed with Mariah Carey. Snow is getting shoveled, tossed, and formed into sentient beings leading parades without permits. It makes for an excellent distraction as the Krampus abducts children for bad behavior. Fruitcake is exchanged only to find its permanent home in the garbage. Terrorists have hijacked the Holiday office party right before your boss can give you a Jelly of the Month Club membership as your bonus. And of course, the Turducken has returned to wreak its fiery vengeance upon an unsuspecting world! If all this doesn’t put you in the Christmas spirit, perhaps this festive slice of cheer from the Clarktoons will!

Let's make like The Ghost of Christmas Past and rewind back to 2014. Folks were suffering from Frozen Fever, both as a result of the movie and the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge. That year also saw Jimmy Fallon take over The Tonight Show after Leno stepped away for real this time, The Amazing Spider-Man 2 swung low while the Guardians of the Galaxy aimed high, people still cared about Kanye and Kim's relationship as if either people are worth your attention, Bill Cosby was outed as the horrible monster that he is, and most importantly of all, I initiated the 12 Days of Christmas event. Yes, clearly that's as major a moment as those other things I mentioned. Starting December 14th I would post a new pic or comic everyday leading up 'til Christmas. Our first year saw the Pizza Bites writing their oddball letters to Santa (with help from Mr-Herp-Derp), Crocie visualizing his perfect yuletide, and even a full length action comic starring me as a seasonal superhero. And in case anybody asks: no, the Holiday Knight isn't coming back. Sadly, neither will the 12 Days at this rate. Despite my continued best efforts, this festive event hasn't been able to return ever since 2020. Blame that on the last four months of every year becoming an increasingly busy time for. Should the choice arise, I will always pick spending the season with my family over drawing. Weird to hear, I know. Still, that's not to say I haven't been hard at work. You can tell I have considering this giant page of sketches I found lingering in Clarktoon Christmas limbo. Thus we have Dumpster DUDELZ: Regifted Edition! Let's take a peak to what's waiting under the tree?

[1] KARL THE KRAMPUS People credit that crummy 2015 horror movie for introducing Krampus into the popular culture. To that I say; you're all wrong! Clearly I did that a year earlier with my own character, Karl. Being a Clarktoon take on a German folk monster, naturally he became a big, bumbling goofball envisioned to have the voice of Richard Kind. It also meant he encountered Croc's Swamp Gang the most, Xena and Bumper especially. After years of the two (or at least Xena) tormenting the fluffy demon, it was time for a facelift. Honestly this design is a drastic upgrade over the original, making Karl more monstrous while not losing his approachability. Cuz only in the Clarktooniverse will you meet a cuddly monster who drags naughty children of to hell. XD

[2] NUTCRACKER: REB00TED CAST Nutcracker freak'n sucks! I have made my opinions regarding this boring ballet no secret over the years. For crying out loud, I compared going to see it to the Five Stages of Death. Nothing against anybody who does enjoy it, just don't count me among your masses. Getting me to like adaptations lacking Mickey and Minnie is a challenge. Then again, I enjoy a good challenge. While contemplating what I would do with the story one year, an ad for Matrix: Resurrections dropped onto YouTube. After seeing it I thought: what if the world of Nutcracker was set within the Matrix? Hence we have Nutracker: REB00TED! I plan to diverge more plot details later, but for now you can at least meet our cast. Starting from left to right we have Prince Leon, the Nutcracker Prince who's grasp on reality is slipping. Helping to guide him is the Count Drosselmyer, turned into Love-A-Lot Larry Beary. Don't let his cuddly facade fool you, he will whoop yo' @$$! Alongside his niece Clara, the badass ballerina determined to rescue her beloved and free the kingdom from the evil Rat King! What does the king look like? Good things come to those who wait...

[3] ROSIE MEETS THE HOGFATHER Any excuse to draw Rosie Stardust is an awesome one! Even if the sketch is last minute like this one. During the Holiday season last year this random little idea sprung into mind of Rosie exploring Christmas contemporaries across the multiverse. This would include Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Festivus, Hearth's Warming Eve, Life Day, and of course Hogswatch. Anyone familiar to the works of Terry Pratchett will recognize the name. Just like those esteemed few will also recognize the mini-Claus counterpart the Cosmic Cutie's encountered. It's not the Hogfather she was expecting, but she will gladly take it!

[4] WILBUR'S PLASTIC TREE You'd think a collection of coupons would be the easiest to complete. Just like you'd think the monkeys would stop flying out of my butt at some point. Nope, that ain't happening. Blame it on my nitpicky attention to details, otherwise Wilbur's White Elephants coupons are already a third of the way done. In fact, the sketch here is already fully colored just waiting to be posted. Being the cheap sonuv'a bush he is, Wilbur naturally won't go for a natural Christmas tree, instead opting for plastic. No, the other kind of plastic. The kind that'll guarantee some poor tree manufacturer in Hoboken will get an angry phone call from an irate store manager. And in case you're wondering what he sounds like, my ideal voice actor is Daran Norris doing his Jameson voice from Spectacular Spider-Man!

[5-7] REDESIGNS FOR RANDOLF, CUPID, AND ZED My, here's a jolly trio that haven't been seen in a good while. Probably because I keep wanting to give them better designs! This is an itch I can't ever seem to scratch! Since I've listed all three of them together, let's go over each character:

RANDOLF: The cocky but caring step-brother of a certain red-nosed reindeer, Randolf hosts the famous North Pole 1 radio show alongside his bear buddy Zed whenever not hosting the even more famous Reindeer Games. Out of all the characters, Randolf is the one who's design if the toughest to crack. I want him to look young, but not super young. Think early to mid 30s if you will. It'd probably help if I could pin down a potential voice for him. Sam Rockwell is the top contender in my mind.

CUPID: Following some messy drama between princessofDisney27 of Disney and I, the original version of Cupid was thrown out and reworked from the top down. With an extreme hairstyle I 'borrowed' from MLP and an athlete's need for speed, Cupid lives up to her namesake who first pulled Santa's sleigh years ago. No idea on who would voice her if I could afford it.

ZED: Raised by gay penguins on a diet of Polar Cola and smooth jazz, Zed is a laid back bear with a beach comber's attitude. So long as wherever he is has a heater and is populated by his buddies, Zed will go with wherever the flow will take him. His design is the easiest, being a polar bear in a Hawaiian shirt. One of these days I wanna draw him with his two penguin papas too, but for now we at least have the bear. Again, not sure who I'd have voice him.

[8] BUMPER'S A STAR! A sad truth about my Christmas tree is that I can never put a star on top of it. Everything we've tried is too top heavy. For the longest time I meant to make one featuring everybody's favorite floating marshmallow, finally following through on this desire this year. I made a shape template in Illustrator, drew the front and back of Bumper around it, colored it all in Illustrator, printed both sides out and glued them together. I would've just printed both sides on one sheet of paper, but printers are evil devices meant to torture mankind as a whole. I hate them! But I love this tree topper! ^^

[9] PANICKED TURKEY It's a shame Panicked Turkey didn't get to come out of hibernation this year. Especially when I had some good ideas for tips involving Canon Events, certain cartoon rodents, time traveling, dragons, and Rosie. Chances are I'll be able to use these ideas again in the future, but for now I just wanted to post something with the cowardly bird. So here's the sketch detailing his redesign from last year. Like Karl, this is another change I really like, PT feeling more expressive than he previously was. Hopefully we'll get to see this design in action again next year!

[10] I'll Have a BOO Christmas Without You ...I'm not even sorry! XD

[11] ALIENS OF THE ROCKAPOCALYPSE! Hey look, more characters you haven't seen in forever! This is Phil, the Clarktooniverse's resident one-eyed rockstar from outer space. Back in the day I used to do mock album covers for Christmas, Phil's girlfriend Yezzi standing in for Mariah Carey on one particularly great one that still holds up. Sadly there's only so many iconic Holiday CD covers you can do that aren't just the same generic 'things coming out of a box' design. Heck, it's why the last one of these I did was based on a Manowar album. That following year would've seen an all-new, totally original creation depicting Phil and Yezzi rocking around a dried out Christmas tree in a Nuclear Winter Wonderland. Sadly the full sketch was never realized, save for Phil's rocker gear here. Worse still, these characters have been retired until I can iron out the finer details of their story. Once I do, expect the ultimate comeback tour from the Aliens of the Rock! Just in time for the yuletide / end of the world!

[12] PANICKED WHO? What turkey? I don't see any turkey. All I see is this friendly induvial with a mustache! One who was just drawn randomly with no other intent behind it. Totally. XD

[13] KREEPY KRAMPUS Once upon a time I was able to complete entire comic storylines before Christmas. That couldn't be said for this one comic where Bumper and Xena both try to buy each other Christmas gifts, each of them going after different notable Christmas creatures to pay for them. Bumper would've gone after the wild Nog while Xena would've picked a more frightful foe: the Krampus! This image of the German monster is what she'd find while searching for information online, my intent to be truer to the original folklore than my usual interpretation. It would've made Karl's inevitable appearance that much funnier. Part of me still wants to see this comic fully realized someday. Until then; let this haunt your nightmares!

[14] ANGELICIA, THE SPIRIT OF THE SEASON Remember earlier when I mentioned a comic centered around me as a Holiday hero? The one I will never bring back? Part of that idea involved a literal spirit of the season named Angelicia, an adopted sister of sorts to Finjix's own character Aklamos. Both of us have tweaked and upgraded her overall appearance over the years, this being her last for an intended Sketch BOOM that was scrapped. I really should use this character again, the question is for what?

[15] A TURKEY DINNER TO GO! Like I said, there was once a Holiday Sketch BOOM that was never completed. This Panicked Turkey sketch is one of the few things to survive from it. Ignoring how this design was pre-2022 makeover, I still think this silly little pic is hilarious! Next Thanksgiving I'll make sure to remake this in full color!

[16] THE NOG Along with Karl, the Nog has become a seasonal staple of the Clarktooniverse. For years mankind has wondered where the eggs for Eggnog have come from. Some silly saps think they come out of chickens, but we all know that's a lie! Obviously the eggs come courtesy of the wild, North American Nog! These rambunctious creatures hail in the colder climates, sticking primarily to the North States where they graze on wild berries, tree bark, and rare flowers. Whenever it's not foraging for food it's fending off wild predators, displaying its tusks for potential mates, running for Congress, or raising their young. That is, the young that actually get to hatch. Good luck drinking that next ice-cold cup knowing the Nog is 100% real and you're feasting on what could've been one of its young you sick monster!

[17-18] TEENAGE MUTANT NINJA TURTLE DOVES Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle Doves! Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle Doves! Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle Doves! Heroes for the Holidays! BIRDY POWER! Back in 2019 I made a silly little parody of the Ninja Turtles based on the beloved Christmas carol "The 12 Days of Christmas". Was it an extremally obvious joke to make? Yes. Does my earlier pun prove I will stoop to such lows? Heck yes! Thus these two goofy characters were born and eventually given the names Currier and Ives by AnimatedTigerGirl. Currier is the one with the bo staff on the left. At home he's a easy-going party animal, but in the field he's a dedicated leader fighting to keep his family safe. Next to him is the nunchuck-wielding Ives, a hot-tempered brainiac with a big heart. Together the two must save their mother, face the 10 Evils of Christmas, and help out their new human friend Ash.

Standing in for their April O'Neal is Ash, one of their few human friends who helps her fine-feathered friends move about New York. Since this story is set during the 90s, she's naturally a skate-boarding tomboy ready to prove to her dad that she's more capable than given credit for. That chance comes suddenly when her father is abducted by the Partridge Crime Family and their ten specifically themed assassins. Now Ash must rescue her dad alongside these two magically enhanced bird-themed ninjas. Y'know, that old chestnut!

[19] SHORT-E AND SHER-I Dang, it's been a while since these two were seen either. I'm sensing a pattern here. At leas these designs have held up the best. Heck, they look especially good in their winter ensemble. SHORT-E wears basic gloves and a jamaica while SHER-I went shopping with EMIL-E to get fancier gloves and a beret! SLAY, QUEEN!

[20] SNOW CONIE MEETS THE NOG Yes, another refuge from the scrapped Sketch BOOM. This one featuring the unofficial mascot of the Sketch BOOMs, the Snow Conies! Or at least one, facing down the angry snout of a mother Nog. I envision these creatures having the temperament of wild hogs, much to the misfortune of this innocent sentient dessert!

[21] SIR PANICKED TURKEY, THE CANADIAN! Along with redesigning this cowardly bird, I also made a special bonus Panicked Turkey tip for Canadian Thanksgiving. It was very last second, going through a few iterations before settling on the final idea. Before then the plan was to either have PT surrounded by angry canucks with guns in a style similar to the John Wick posters or the giant chicken disguising himself as a Mounty, not yet realizing he'll find no peace in the Great White North. Ultimately both were dropped in favor or one menacing Mounty looming over the frightened fowl, which I thought wouldn't work until I saw the final product. Funny how that works, innit? Still, what about the entre in shining armor? That has to do with an idea I mentioned earlier, but I dare not spoil the surprise further than that. Like I mentioned, said idea can be reused for next year. So when Turkey Day rears its ugly head, Sir Turkey turned tail and fled!

[22] UGLY SWEATERS, TROPICAL WEATHER Yet again another idea I hope to bring back, though slightly modified. Originally the plan was to make Ugly Sweater pin-ups for the couples (or friends) of 3K with my friends Finjix and @burningthrucelluloid. This one was the only one sketched before Alec lost his Adobe art programs that would've allowed him to help in this project. Even then, my nitpicky attention to details got the better of me again and too much time was wasted attempting to draw the other pics. All we got out of this failed collaboration were Nerva and her buddy Weed Eater in their Hawaiian-style sweaters, the latter not happy about his situation. He was even depicted eating the sweater and partridge at one point. Who would've guessed the living Christmas tree would be a humbug?

[23-24] CROCZILLA VS TURDUCKEN When I released by Terror of the Turducken posters back in 2020, peeps said they would totally pay to see that movie. Hopefully the same can be said for its sequel, an epic clash between the titular Turducken and the colossal Croczilla! Why are they fighting? Who cares, it's two giant monsters beating the stuffing out'a each other! No doubt the posted to go with this creature feature would've been a legendary one! At least had it not been for my nitpicky attention to details. Plenty of poster designs were drawn up, including this one that was inspired by the then-current Godzillva vs Kong posters. Perhaps I can recycle this idea next year when the sequel comes out and the two fight another giant monkey. Until then, feel free to place your bets on which of these festive Kaijus come out on top!

And if you're rooting for the Turducken, enjoy this redesign of the character where each of its heads feel more distinct. Hey, if nothing else it's cooler to look at than another freak'n ape.

MAY THE GLASSES BE WITH YOU!

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gimme-my-mammoney · 3 years ago

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Christmas in the Devildom ~

Lucifer -

Overly organised and definitely has a ‘Christmas chart’.

Pretends to be calm but spends his nights finding recipes and planning the perfect Christmas.

Gives dull gifts. Expect socks, school books, and maybe a jumper if you’re lucky.

Likes to keep the decorations classy and traditional but let’s his brothers hang up handmade decorations and pretends he doesn’t notice (he also saves them all in secret).

Very formal dinner. Expect four courses and more forks than you know what to do with.

Not above threatening his brothers to get them to behave on Christmas Day. (He does cut Mammon some slack, though)

Plays the piano and insists you all sing together.

Kisses you under the mistletoe.

Mammon -

Wakes you at 4am insisting Santa has been.

He’s here for the PRESENTS.

Can’t sleep for weeks because he’s excited.

Leaves his gift shopping until the last minute because he was hoping he’d have more gambling wins and more money to spend (he doesn’t).

Chaotic decorator. All the colours clash, loads of paper chains, and some broken baubles.

Doesn’t care what the food is like as long as he gets good presents (and that his loved ones are there with him but shhh).

Helps clean up so his brothers can enjoy their day, like a good big bro.

Sings dirty versions of Christmas carols and Lucifer smacks him.

Actually spends a lot on your gift and it’s PERFECT. He bankrupted himself getting you the perfect gift. But he doesn’t like you or anything…

Levi -

Excited for the holiday themed events in his games and bankrupts himself getting all the festive bonus content.

Checked everyone’s Akuzon accounts to make sure they were getting him the right games and manga (he cancelled and ordered the correct one for Beel so he wouldn’t feel bad).

Orders all his gifts from Akuzon and doesn’t wrap them. You’ll get them in the delivery boxes and you’ll like it.

Decorates his tree with anime keyrings. If he’s having a tree it’s going to be Otaku approved.

Gets dragged away from his new games to eat with everyone else and complains the whole time.

Wants to disappear into his room ASAP but Beel catches him. Feels far too guilty and let’s everyone have a go on multiplayer games. (Lucifer sucks at them all).

Plays Ruri-Chan’s Christmas album on LOOP and insists it’s a modern classic.

Might sneak you a kiss on the cheek and blame the spirit of Christmas. He will run away straight after, though.

Satan -

Says he hates Christmas but leaves cookies out for Santa.

Everyone buys him books and he’s never been happier with his brothers. Even Lucifer gets a nod of appreciation from him.

Buys everyone else books and says knowledge is the best gift you can receive. I can’t repeat what Mammon said about that.

Everything has to be perfectly placed. Only issue is that his ‘perfect’ and Lucifers ‘perfect’ don’t quite match. They spend the run up to Christmas passive aggressively changing decorations to their own tastes.

Thinks he can handle a couple of glasses of Demonius with his dinner. He can’t.

Spends the afternoon laid in the middle of the room drunkenly telling everyone he loves them but not to tell anyone or he’ll kill you.

Hates singing but joins in because he “has to”.

After you spend the evening looking after his drunk self, he falls asleep on you, right after whispering; “merry Christmas, my love” in your ear.

Asmo -

Has 25 different Santa outfits and wears one each day until Christmas.

Wouldn’t be caught dead in a Christmas jumper.

Gets everyone skincare and perfume in hopes they can try to be as beautiful as him. Try to be.

The most flamboyant but perfectly curated decorations you will ever see. There’s also mistletoe everywhere.

Spends more time photographing the food than actually eating it.

Makes everyone take a family Christmas photo. Claims it’s for Devilgram but it mysteriously ends up framed on the wall.

Over sings every song. They’re all in his range. Thinks he’s Mariah Carey.

Will leave your face covered in his new lipstick shade.

Beel -

Christmas is everything Beel loves; food and family.

Can smell which presents are edible and has been known to eat them before unwrapping them.

Makes a lot of his presents because he thinks they’re more personal.

Has been known to eat a bauble or two because they were the same colours as a candy cane.

Christmas is a time for eating and he’s here to show you all how it’s done.

Will eat your food but only if you’re already full. It’s Christmas and he has to be polite about it.

Is the only one not to fall into a food coma. Takes this time to eat everyone else’s edible presents. You snooze, you lose.

Carries Belphie to bed and tucks him in for his afternoon nap.

Sings the loudest and the most off-key.

You can’t pass him on Christmas Day without getting a huge bear hug. Every. Single. Time. (Who’s mad, though?)

Belphie -

Forgot it was Christmas.

Didn’t take kindly to being woken up, the presents will still be there in a few hours/days.

Gives everyone pillows, blankets, and plushes for Christmas. Falls asleep in the unwrapped pile of them.

Has Christmas bedding and that’s as far as his decorating will go.

Falls asleep at the table and Beel hoovers up his food.

Afternoon nap that may last all night.

Secretly loves singing the carols because he can see how happy it makes Beel.

Bought you a plush named Belphie so you can hug him every night.

Diavolo -

Still believes in Santa (it’s Barb who puts his presents out but shhhhh).

Listens out for Santa and his reindeer all night.

Gets everyone really expensive presents but doesn’t seem to be aware that they’re incredibly generous gifts.

The whole palace is a Christmas grotto from November 1st because he can’t wait for December to decorate.

The perfect dinner host.

Wearing the paper hats out of the crackers is required if you want to eat at his table.

Has the best voice and loves to sing the carols. Mammon teaches him the dirty versions. Lucifer is not impressed.

Invites your family and friends to the devildom for Christmas so you can see them.

Hey everyone!

I know it’s been over a year since I’ve posted. As I said in my previous post, I’ve had some health issues and a lot of work and just haven’t had time at all. I missed you all and I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. Thank you for sticking around 🖤

I was going to wait until the new year to post anything but I couldn’t let Christmas go by without posting something for our boys.

This might not be my best work but I’m still getting back into the swing of things. I’m a little rusty.

I hope you all have the happiest of holidays.

Love you 🖤

Picture credit to Solomare.

#obey me! shall we date?#obey me!#obey me! beelzebub #obey me! asmodeus #obey me! belphegor #writing #obey me! diavolo #obey me! lucifer #obey me! luci #obey me! mammon #obey me! levi #obey me! leviathan #obey me! satan #obey me! asmo #obey me! beel #obey me! belphie #obey me! fanfic #obey me! imagines

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aredheadedmess · 3 years ago

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Cookie Confessions || MYG

Summary: It’s the holidays once again, and you want nothing more than to spend it with him.

Pairings: Min Yoongi x Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Slightly suggestive? There’s really nothing in this one. Not really much of a strong plot line, just a lot of fluff.

Genre: Fluff to the max! Slice of Life, F2L, Domestic life

Rating: PG

Prompts: (will be bolded for easier finding)

“Mistletoe is allowed only for the holiday season.” “It is the holiday season.” “Oh…then kiss away.”

"I’m offended, you look great in this ugly christmas sweater. This is a scam.”

A/N: A gift for @btsarmy9593. Suprise surprise E! It’s me, your secret santa, snowflake! I hope you enjoy your gift 😊 I had so much fun making this and sending you asks. Maybe a little too much cause I fell asleep last night before I could finish and post it lol.

This is for @btswritingcafe‘s Secret Santa event! I’m so happy I joined this as it was super fun to do.

Masterlist

“It’s the most wonderful time of the-”

A hand reaches towards the volume dial. You quickly glance over to Yoongi as he presses it, turning off the radio completely.

“You know, as much as I like Christmas music, do they have to play the same five songs over and over again?”

You roll your eyes, a small smirk growing on your face.

“Oh come on," you laugh. "Says the one who listens to Mariah Carey’s ‘All I Want For Christmas is You’ any chance he gets.”

“Can you blame me? It’s catchy!”

Your fingers fumble slightly with the turn signal. The car in front of you is not going fast enough for your liking. Though, neither is the one that you move behind, but you decide to suck it up, sigh quietly to yourself, and stay where you’re at.

“Yeah, but there’s other songs that are just as good, if not better," you jest.

Another glance at Yoongi makes you chuckle. His body is turned away from you—at least as much as he could in your small car—head facing the window. His cheeks are puffed up slightly with the small pout present on his face. You hum, turning back to the road.

“You’re just sour that you can’t hit those high notes.”

“Neither can you,” he scoffs.

Your hand flies to smack at his thigh. Yoongi gasps, and turns toward you. From the corner of your eye, you can make out the shocked look that flashes across his face as he yelps out.

“Hey!”

You flick your blinker on one more time, check your blind spot, and move over to the turn lane. Behind the already long line of cars waiting to turn into the full parking lot. Your groan shakes Yoongi from his focus on his faintly stinging thigh to greet the same sight you have.

“We’re never going to find a parking spot,” you mutter.

With the holiday season riding your tail, you and Yoongi decided to start your Christmas shopping. It's a tradition you've started, ever since either of you could drive, to go shopping the week after Black Friday. Though, it seemed like everyone else had the same idea. The mall welcomes a sea of people every minute, swallowing up a crowd before it spits out a smaller crowd, several bags in hand, looking stressed at all the shopping they have to do.

“You knew what we were getting into,” Yoongi mentioned.

Of course you knew. It's the first week of December, the start of the holiday rush. It may be the so-called ‘most wonderful time of the year’, but with all the people running in to get the best deals—on things that will more than likely be thrown out by next Christmas—it’s slowly turning from wonderful to dreadful.

“Yeah, but it’s a Tuesday!” you wine. “You would think with how many people are here today that it’s a normal Saturday!”

Yoongi chuckles at your misery.

As you turn down each of the aisles, you watch as the cars in front of you take the obscure open spots one by one. Yoongi helps keep another pair of eyes out for any spot that you might miss. It isn’t until you’ve made your way through almost every aisle, now at the farthest place you could park without leaving the main lot, that you see Yoongi’s hand shoot up in front of you.

“There!”

Store after store, the two of you traipse through the mall. Though most places have good deals on things, you have to turn a blind eye to some of the prices. Why does your family have to want expensive things?

You manage to make it towards the last couple of stores before you can really start to feel the pain in your feet. Walking into the clothing shop, your eyes scan the first few racks. Towards the front corner of the shop, a rack filled with bright red and green sweaters catches your attention. You rush towards it. Yoongi trips after you, calling out for you to slow down. You pay him no mind as you reach the rack.

Stifling a giggle, you stare at the first few sweaters in the front. The first two, a green sweater with striped sleeves and a cute little gingerbread scene on the front, and a bright red sweater with a plump Santa stuck upside down in a chimney. But the one that has you letting out a laugh is one that has an elf looking eerily similar to the man standing beside you.

“Oh look! I didn’t know you modeled.”

You point at the sweater, turning to face Yoongi with a wide grin. He rolls his eyes as he lets out a quiet scoff.

“Very funny.”

“What do you think, should we get ones for the party?” you ask, turning back towards the rack and sifting through the different designs.

“I don’t mind.”

Yoongi joins you, pulling out a few to show you as he goes. Your arms begin to become heavy with the amount of sweaters you’ve gathered—a few from the ones that Yoongi showed you; because if he found them funny, then you were sure to pull some sort of reaction from him, and hope to see if his feelings reflect your own towards him. Taking one last one from the man, you shift all of the bags you are carrying to your hands.

“Will you hold these? I’m gonna go try these on.”

You don’t leave any time for Yoongi to respond before you dump your bags into his arms. All that follows you is the light huff of laughter that he lets out as he watches you briskly walk to the dressing rooms.

Piece after piece, you come out of the dressing rooms to show Yoongi. Though, he isn’t much help when he continues to give you the same slightly uninterested look for every sweater. It isn’t until the fourth sweater that you give up on trying to show off for him.

“While I decide which one to buy, why don’t you try some of them on,” you grumble.

“Alright, alright. Wait here.”

You’re not sure what to expect. You know Yoongi had walked into the dressing rooms with a couple of sweaters, but you didn’t pay much attention to what he had grabbed. So when he walked out wearing one of the most ridiculous looking sweaters, you can’t help but gawk in both amusement and offence. The sweater itself is a simple Christmas-y green. If it was left at that, you wouldn’t have bat an eye towards it. Draped around the entire item is a thick strand of garland-like material with small baubles adorning the greenery. You appreciate the look of the sweater on him, the way the garland hugs his torso just enough to show off his figure, sending your mind running. Though, just looking at it makes your skin feel itchy.

“So?” He tilts his head, one brow raised slightly as he waits for you to say something. “Thoughts? Look, it even lights up.”

Yoongi presses a button near the neckline and the sweater shines brightly and colorfully. You scoff, looking him up and down once more before you answer.

“I’m offended. You look great in this ugly Christmas sweater. This is a scam.”

Mockingly angrily, you cross your arms in front of your chest. You turn your head away and jut out your lips in a small pout. But because of your faux jealousy, you miss the starry-eyed gaze he gives you.

“I’ll buy it then,” he chuckles lightly.

Yoongi begins to turn towards the dressing rooms, but decides against it, making his way closer to where you are sitting instead. He leans in, putting himself on the same level as you. You can feel the heat begin to crawl up your neck at the proximity. Trying to keep your composure, you force yourself to keep your gaze on the oddly posed mannequin in the next section. Though, once you feel the tip of his finger pressing into your cheek, your pout melts away into a look of surprise.

“Don’t be pouty,” he giggles. “How about we hit up one last shop. We still got two weeks to shop for gifts. We’ll grab takeout on the way to your place, and have a movie marathon. Neither of us work tomorrow, so we don’t have to worry about that.”

Eyes shining brightly, you turn to face him better. Yoongi lets out another laugh at the sight of your excitement.

“Oh! Can we get that one place that sells our favorite spicy chicken?”

“Of course,” he nods.

With one last smile, Yoongi gets up and walks to the dressing rooms, leaving your heart beating much faster than you would have liked it to in the moment. You only hope that he couldn’t hear it from where he was.

The moment you pull up to the party house, your eyes catch the multitude of decorations covering the lawn. You don’t expect less from your friends, knowing that they love to put their all into this holiday. And even as you walk up to the front door you can see a glimpse of the madness inside the house, too.

“Wow. They really outdid the place, didn’t they?” Yoongi chuckles beside you as he rings the doorbell.

As you wait for someone to answer the door, you admire the dedication it would require to put all of the decorations up. Not to mention having the power to be able to keep the display lights on for the entire month. You would simply pass away after seeing the electricity bill after the season is over.

The door clicks quietly before it opens, a familiar face popping into view. Jimin’s bright smile quickly warms up the freezing air around you.

“Hey! You made it!”

“Of course, why wouldn’t we?” You muse.

Jimin ushers the both of you into his house, stripping you of your heavy winter coat the moment the door closes. Yoongi takes a hold of the gift bags in your hands to make it easier for Jimin to help you slip out of your gear.

“You both are always all over each other,” he says. “I wouldn’t have been surprised if you skipped out on the party.”

You ignore the teasing tone he speaks to you as you begin to walk further into the house, opting to reach for the gift bags again. Yoongi moves them away from your grasp and turns to Jimin.

“Ah. Where do you want these?” He asks.

“There’s a table downstairs with all the others. Everyone else is down there too.”

Just as you are about to turn towards the stairway to the basement, another familiar face pops his head into the kitchen doorway.

“Y/N! Yoongi! Man, you two are rocking the sweaters. Come have some food!”

In his hands, Jin holds a small plate with what looks to be a slice of chocolate cake. He waves you into the kitchen. Before either of you can reach the doorway, Jin is already piling up a stack of treats for the both of you to take. Thanking him, you join the rest of your friends down stairs where they pause the Christmas movie they had started only a couple of minutes before to greet you and Yoongi properly.

At first, the company is welcoming. With how busy your lives have gotten after graduating from high school several years back, it’s hard to find a time where your friend group can gather. It’s moments like this that you’re grateful for the holiday season. Despite the craziness of holiday, the rush to find the perfect presents for friends and family, the time it takes to travel to relatives homes in the poor weather, you and your friends always find a moment to spend some time together before the end of the year. Though, there comes a point when it’s all a little too much for you to handle.

It’s been two hours since the movie ended. Your friend, Tiffany, decided it was a good idea to start a competition between her and Jungkook on who could win the most rounds of foosball. The others joined along, adding new challenges to the mix, cheering them on as the harder it became for them to win each round. You were excited in the beginning, seeing the glint of mischief in Tiffany’s eye as she spoke out her plans. You had even joined her in a two-on-two round with Yoongi as Jungkook’s partner—you and her proudly won that round. But the longer it went on, the more you could feel yourself grow exhausted from the party.

You find yourself on the balcony in Jimin’s guest room. Since arriving at the party, the snow had fallen gently onto the night scene around you, blanketing the already snow covered ground in a fresh layer of powder. You watch as the snowflakes fall onto the sleeves of your sweater. If you look close enough, you can see the details in the snow, the crystallized patterns of each individual flake. You’re not sure how long you stand out there in the cold, too mesmerized by the snow to bother checking the time.

“There you are. I thought you left.”

The sudden break of silence startles you. Eyes wide, you turn to face Yoongi, who has slipped out of the balcony doors to join you. Even when you know you’re safe, your heart continues to beat out of your chest. Did Yoongi always look this good in the snow?

“Nah,” you whisper. You return to your previous position, leaning against the railing to focus back on the quiet snowstorm. “It was just a little too much for me. My social battery is practically dead now.”

Yoongi hums. The snow crunches under his shoes as he steps up next to you.

“I get it. But why are you out here? It’s snowing and you don’t have your coat.”

“It’s a lot quieter out here. Plus I just forgot to grab it.”

You know he knows that it’s not the complete truth. You had contemplated grabbing your coat, but you assured yourself that you wouldn’t be out here long enough for you to begin to need it. Yoongi doesn’t respond. Before you can look to see what he is doing, something warm and soft is draped over your shoulders. You turn to see Yoongi, standing beside you with a concerned look on his face, and only in his own ugly Christmas sweater.

“But-” you begin to protest. Yoongi cuts you off, throwing a smile in your direction.

“I’ll be fine.”

You know he won’t hear you out once he settles into the same position you have been in. He watches the snow fall for a moment, looking back at you when you don’t join him. He pulls at your arm gently. With a small sigh, you step towards the railing again, leaning against it with him. You can feel his body heat as you settle close enough for your arms to press against each other.

This is nice, you think. For a while, you forget that you are at a party. Being beside your best friend—and first love—while the fluffy puffs of snow fall around you is comforting. It’s the little moments like this that make your heart grow fonder for the boy you grew up with. Even during your movie nights, the two of you are cuddled up, a blanket thrown over the top of you.

Life with Yoongi is easy. Neither of you hold expectations for the other when it comes to your friendship. Like two pieces of a puzzle, you complete each other, stronger in the areas that the other is not. It’s how it has been since you got to know Yoongi. Sure, there have been times where you’ve questioned your friendship, and times that you wish you had never met, but those moments only made your relationship stronger. And you thank all of your lucky stars that he has been the one steady thing in your life.

Breaking you from your thoughts, Yoongi nudges your arm with his. Your eyes shift from the yard to his dark friendly eyes.

“I think they’re doing the white elephant soon,” he mutters. “Come join me?”

You hum, nodding your head. Yoongi pushes himself from the railing and dusts his sleeves off before holding out his hand for you to grab. He guides you back inside and back downstairs to become social again.

When you join your friends, none of them fail to notice your intertwined hands when Hoseok points out that you have returned. No one says anything about it, turning back to whatever game they were playing before you arrived. You’re grateful for that. But when you are pulled into a quick game of charades, you partially wish that you could go back to the moment—albeit short—on the balcony. No worries about how to keep the conversation alive, no people to entertain, just you, Yoongi, and the quiet storm.

It isn’t much longer that you play the white elephant game. It takes twice as long as it normally would when Taehyung and Jimin try to wrestle in the middle of the room for the mini waffle maker someone had brought, only for Jungkook to take it from right under their noses, forcing him to join in on the impromptu fight. After the game is over, you stay to chat for a little while longer to catch up with everyone. But when Yoongi is squeezing your hand, offering a questioning look and glimpsing towards the stairs, you know it’s time for you to go.

Yoongi stands and pulls you along with him. A few of your friends ask where you’re going once they notice him collecting your things.

“We’re gonna head out,” he responds.

“Oh, come on. Stay a little longer?” Tiffany whines. She’s been wanting to get you alone to ask you about your disappearance to the balcony for the past hour.

“Nah,” Namjoon whispers. Though, it’s loud enough for you to hear clearly. “Let the lovebirds go. They’ve probably got plans, if you know what I mean.”

Ignoring the comment, you follow Yoongi as he heads up the stairs, throwing goodbyes to everyone and thanking Jimin for hosting the party this year.

“Where’s the sugar?”

You open up every cabinet you can think of. Does he move it every time he uses it? Weren’t we just using it to make the cookies?

“Where it always is?” Yoongi calls out from his seat at the dining table.

Another one of your traditions is to make and design cookies a few days before Christmas. At first, it started as something you’d do because you wanted to make cookies for Santa. But as you grew older, it became something you’d do for fun. You and Yoongi always made it a goal to see who could come up with the best designs—you may be biased, but you’re sure you’ve won every year.

“And where is that?”

“I thought you knew your way around my kitchen already,” Yoongi laughs. He turns his head towards you, watching as you continuously open and close each cabinet door. “Seeing how I always catch you in here in the middle of the night.”

You pause. He knows about your late night snack adventures in his kitchen?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you insist.

Yoongi only laughs more at your tone.

“Try the cabinet over the stove.”

True to his word, the moment you open the cabinet, your eyes spot the bag of sugar. You’re sure you looked in this one several times. Pulling down the sugar, you smile.

“You’re a genius,” you call out over your shoulder.

“Just get over here.”

Yoongi takes the sugar from your hands. He digs the measuring cup into the bag, scooping up the right amount of sugar for the icing, plopping it into the mixing bowl with every other ingredient and continues to mix it all together. Before he can separate the icing into containers for the different colors you are making, you take your finger and dip it into the icing. Thankfully Yoongi doesn’t notice your sneaky swipe. You raise your finger towards his cheek, a sly smile on your face. His face morphs into a look of surprise when the icing meets his skin as he turns towards you. You let out a loud laugh. You try to clean it off his face, but Yoongi only retaliates, taking a small bit of the icing and wiping it on the tip of your nose. For a moment, you stand in shock, staring at Yoongi as he laughs instead. But the surprise melts into happiness when you see the fond look he gives you as he takes the dollop of icing off his cheek and your nose.

“Let’s save the decorating for the cookies, shall we?”

You leave each other to decorate your set of cookies. It’s hard not to look at what Yoongi is doing when he is sitting beside you. Every once in a while he purposefully reaches over your hands as you work on placing candies in the icing, trying to mess you up. You do the same to him, successfully messing him up twice.

“What are you making?” You ask, peaking over his arm to see his cookies.

Yoongi shifts slightly, blocking your view.

“You’ll see.”

He reaches for a couple red sixlets, leaning in close to the table to place them on the cookie. With a smile, he leans back, turning to you and holding up the finished cookie for you to see.

“Mistletoe?”

“Uh huh,” he hums. Your brows furrow slightly as he begins to raise it above your head. “Oh and would you look at that. We seem to have been caught underneath it.”

Warmth creeps up the back of your neck, as you realise what he means. You scoff, trying to evade the sudden rush of feelings. You hope that he can’t hear your heart pounding against your chest. Yoongi carefully leans in closer, and you blurt out the first thing you can think of.

“Mistletoe is only allowed for the holiday season.”

“It is the holiday season,” he chuckles.

Your eyes drift away from his gaze. Why did I say that?

“Oh…then kiss away.”

Yoongi pushes closer, and your eyes flutter closed. You can feel the brush of his lips against yours, making you smile. There are no fireworks or explosions of color and feelings as the movies show. Instead, his kiss is comforting. It’s something you hope you can experience for the rest of your life. Neither one of you makes an effort to move. Even the gentle press of his lips against yours is enough to satisfy you.

As you pull away, feeling the need to take a deep breath, you look into Yoongi’s eyes. They shine bright, sparkling slightly under the kitchen light. He gives you a warm smile.

“I’ve liked you ever since you spilled your juice on me when we were eight.”

You let out a quiet giggle. What an odd way to start a conversation after kissing the person you’ve known for most of your life. You remember that day though. It was the first day of third grade, and you were a little too excited for lunch. You had tripped over another kid’s foot, landing on the bench beside eight-year-old Yoongi, squeezing the juice box in your hand and spilling it all over his favorite shirt. It was safe to say you didn’t get your recess time because of him once he yelled at you.

“You took my crayons cause you were mad about that though,” you bite back. “Which I never got back by the way.”

Yoongi chuckles. His hand reaches up to cup your cheek, running his thumb over your skin.

“That's besides the point. The point is, I've liked you for a long time.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” you wonder.

“I was waiting to see if you were going to do something about it.”

His other hand searches for yours, grasping onto it.

“What do you mean?”

Yoongi laughs slightly at your confused stare. He squeezes your hand and tilts his head in amusement.

“You’re not exactly subtle.”

“Oh,” you breathe out.

“But that doesn’t matter now,” he continues. “Because now, I can show you how much you really mean to me and catch up on all of the time we’ve missed.”

Yoongi leans in close again, his lips ghosting over yours. Your free hand finds its place on his chest, grasping slightly at the dark shirt he’s wearing. You glance over at the messy table, icing and rogue candies scattered about the tabletop. A smirk grows on your lips at the thoughts running through your mind and your eyes meet Yoongi’s again. You press your lips against his in a chaste kiss.

“I think the cookies can wait to be decorated,” you mutter.

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extravaguk · 4 years ago

Text

santa&prada

part of my opposites attract! series.

ksj / knj / myg / jhs / kth / jjk

pairing: rich!jimin x reader

summary: Yeah, Park Jimin most likely didn't even realize he was being a rude and disrespectful son of a bitch.

wordcount: 5k

genre: smut - angst(? - fluff (? idk u tell me

rated: m

warnings: a christmas fic in late november, cursing, a huge misunderstanding lmao, i call jimin ‘park jimin’ too many times bc i felt like it, car sex, oral (f recieving), some good ole spanking, (kinda) rough and unprotected sex, a lil of dirty talk, spit kink. thats about it. just an excuse to write jimin fucking you in a car. jimin is not as bad as oc thinks srsly.

The first time you meet Park Jimin is through mutual friends. On a firday night on December, with white, red and green lights decorating the streets of New York, filled with the typical hustle of the masses doing last minute Christmas shopping, the freezing weather impacting your body temperature, cursing yourself for choosing tights, a skirt and heeled boots that are too pretty but too uncomfortable to wear.

You had never considered yourself a particular enthusiast of Christmas festivities. You guess discovering Santa Claus was, actually, your parents before the rest of the kids in your class was one of the many reasons that made you grow up too soon and therefore, not allowing you to fully enjoy the month of December. Or maybe it had nothing to do with Santa, and more to do with your parents deciding to get a divorce a day before Christmas Eve. A traumatic event for seven year old you, but completely forgotten and overcome by twenty-four year old present you.

Growing up each Christmas suffering the consecuences of a shared custody would have probably had a disastrous effect on anybody else, but not you. Although the separation was a tough reality to accept at first, fortunately your parents were always capable of raising you in an environment full of love and affection, just like any other kid. And you prided yourself on having moved on from those circumstances a long time ago (even if your therapist disagreed and blamed many of your behaviors on it. Whatever.)

To put it simply, December was just not the month for you. It was just another month, like the remaining eleven of the year, except Mariah Carey's voice was heard every five minutes everywhere you'd go and people gave each other presents as if it was only during that time of the year when they remembered their loved ones.

The only thing you could thank Christmas for were the well deserved two weeks of holidays our work allowed until the new year's arrival. Fifteen days of rest, peace and baking those gingerbread cookies that Seokjin died for and that you sincerely denoted as nauseating.

You truly had no idea what exactly you did wrong that night. You don't know if it was something you said, or something you did, but what you did know was that Park Jimin pursued a silent and personal vendetta against you that continued nowadays.

"Here are your disgusting cookies, you filthy animal." it might have been that very first sentence you said when you entered the bar and reunited with your friends that didn't cause a good impression. "Shit, it's cold as fuck. My nipples are harder than my life." or maybe it was your selection of words while you waved every familiar face hello until you stopped to look at the only (pretty. too pretty, as well) one you had never seen before.

"_____, it's Chrismtas! Santa Clause will only bring you a lump of coal if you keep cursing like that!" Lisa laughed while she kissed your cheek and made space for you to sit next to her. "Oh, by the way, this is Jimin. A friend of Namjoon. He's a newbie!"

Park Jimin was stunning, you had no trouble admitting that. You weren't blind, you weren't stupid, and you could go as far as theorize that his dark eyes, his light and always immaculate styled hair, his sharp jawline and those plump lips as red as cherries must have been sculpted by Satan himself.

Fuck, you were even sure you'd be on your knees in front of Park Jimin in an alternative universe begging for his dick inside your mouth. But in the universe where you and the real Park Jimin reside, he would never come near you unless somebody was aiming a gun into his skull.

You're not precisely sure what it was, but a brief exchange of glances and an evasive and sligh shake of hands with Park Jimin was enough to make you feel ashamed and withdrawn for the rest of the night.

If Jimin wasn't even able to drop a polite "Nice to meet you", he sure as hell wasn't able to pretend you even existed.

Even the small talk you had tried to engaged with him about his shiny pair of shoes went terribly wrong.

"Oh, are those Dolce and Gabbana?"

"Dolce and Gabbana are homphobic, racist and sexist, so no" the grimace on his face should've been enough to make you regret speaking to him in the first place , but the snarky voice of his made you want to run away and hide from him until next Christmas.

In reality, you swore you didn't care. Seriously. Other's opinions were never something that could easily bother you or keep you awake at night. You had always turned a deaf ear to the cruel children that made fun of you due to your parent's divorce, you had always ignored the amount of men that never considered you "ladylike" enough (what the fuck did that even mean, anyway? what exactly made a lady and what didn't?), and you had always disregarded any envous comment surrounding you.

So, fuck Park Jimin! You had said to yourself. He's just a well mannered rich boy. Somebody who didn't resemble you in any aspect. A stupid, pretentious, spoiled boy who's had everything he's ever wanted in the palm of his hand, unlike you. Who the fuck cares what Park Jimin thinks?

But apparently, you did.

You would have never placed such importance to whatever it was that roamed inside Jimin's head if his appearances in your group of friends hadn't been so recurrent.

Because each time you were forced to see Jimin's face, you were also forced to experience a strange knot of discomfort and humilliation growing in your stomach in his mere presence. It's not like Jimin did anything specific to make you feel that way. He might not even do it on purpose, or his intentions might not be entirely evil. Maybe he simply didn't realize how he always avoided being by your side like the plague, or how his body immediately tensed and he balled his hands into fists everytime you were less than two feet away from him, or how he would look at you from the corner of his eye everytime you decided you speak, almost as if he was waiting for you to shut up to finally let out the air he was containing inside his lungs in relief.

Yeah, Park Jimin most likely didn't even realize he was being a rude and disrespectful son of a bitch.

And with time, you couldn't help but attribute that disdain and hostility that Park Jimin always directed at you to the many undeniable differences that constituted each of you. Park Jimin, with his impeccable and always well ironed Prada shirts, his spotless trousers, jewelry that probably costed more than three of your annual salaries, and always emanating that Givenchy fragance that screamed "wealth!" every rare occasion you could experiment his presence next to you. Exactly two years after that first meeting with Park Jimin, you hadn't been able to avoid reciprocating that feeling of contempt towards him. Not when you were the only victim of his arrogance. Everybody loved Park Jimin, and Park Jimin loved everyone.

Except you.

Clinging to your glass of Don Pérignon and finishing the rest of the liquid in one go, you try to snap out of your own thoughts, reminding yourself to return to the conversation you're currently having with Taehyung about a pretty waitress that he's met during one of his art exhibitions (or at least that's what you think you caught him say) and forcing yourself by all means to stop observing the friendly and kind smiles that Park Jimin was shooting to those present from across the room and that you will never be able to achieve.

"_____? Are you even listening to me, darling?" Taehyung's voice is what makes you finally look away from the dumb blond standing on the opposite side of the room, blinking a few times before clearing your throat.

"Sorry, Tae." letting out a sigh, you try to brush back and put in place the strand of hair that escaped the intricate hairdo you had tried and so miserably failed to do yourself to try to fit in and hopefully impress such environment of preppy and privilaged people (ahem, Park Jimin) falling on your forehead as best as you can. "Just been really stressed this week and I'm on another planet. You know how I feel about Christmas. I think I need a new flute of . Or five."

Taehyung sends you a look full of empathy and places one of his hands in your shoulder, squeezing lightly in a comforting way. "I'll get you another one. I'll be right back." You quickly interrupt him though, to prevent him from standing up before you.

"No, really. I'll go. I need some fresh air anyways, if you don't mind." And of course Taehyung doesn't mind, so you get on your feet as graceously as your tipsy state allowed you to (who told you it was a good idea to drink three glasses in less than thirty minutes of the extremely expensive champagne Taehyung had brought to the Christmas party he had organized and why did it convince you it would appease your anxiey?) and make your way towards the table where the rest of the bottles are. A table dangerously close to the conversation Jimin and that friend of Lisa (whose name you don't remember) were having.

Both are with their backs turned and, honestly, you take a silent moment to thank God or whatever is up there because the last thing you need right now is yet another awkward interaction with Jimin, so you try as best as you can to refill your glass of champagne to get out of there as soon as possible, praying to make your exit going unnoticed.

But no. Because the stars and the universe loved to align to make you suffer! They love to play with your karma and they love making you damn that one day you didn't help that lady cross the street. They love making you regret buying those plastic straws. They love making you feel guilty for hacking your neighbour's Wifi when you run out of money to pay for yours. Because the moment you try to take a hold of the bottle in your hands, it slips out of your grasp, and you're watching in slow motion how the sparkling berverage ends up spilling all over the extremely expensive (or so you assume. Balenciaga maybe) suit pants Park Jimin decided to wear that night.

Everything is kind of blurry and you can't even hear anything. You can only watch as Park Jimin turns around, lips parted and eyebrows furrowed, until his eyes find you, the bane of his existance and immediately recognizing the culprit of his now drenched piece of clothing. And you can watch as, once again, his gaze turns almost black and narrow lightly as to reprimend you for what you've caused. But of course he doesn't say a word. He has nothing to say. He doesn't even look surprised. No. Because obviously, Park Jimin knew that if there was somebody in this room willing to ruin his night, it would be you, and only you.

"Shit!" you're the first one to break the strained silence, but that only makes Jimin flinch. "Shit, shit, shit. I'm so fucking dumb! J-Jimin, I'm so sorry, let me just go grab a paper tow-"

"Don't." his voice cuts through you. Literally cuts through you. Because it's not often that Park Jimin decides to aim his words at you, but everytime he does it holds the same frigid tone. Like knives trying to painfully stab your being. "Just, don't."

In reality, you don't know a lot of things and you don't know what causes what happens next. You don't know if it's the specific time of the year, you don't know if it's your internal stress, or if it's Park Jimin, his voice, or the fact that he will never like you. But it's instant. They way something compresses your chest, and suddenly your eyes are not glaced by the alcohol but by something wet that threatens to flow. You would never admit to anyone they're tears.

So, shutting your mouth and swallowing the uncomfortable feeling of anguish in your throat, leaving your flute forgotten on the table and grabbing the bottle instead. Without saying a word, your feet start moving up the stairs of the ridiculously enourmous house Taehyung owns towards the first free and empty balcony you can find. Free of people and free of Park Jimin.

Closing the large window behind you, you allow yourself to close your eyes and take a deep breath; the icy temperature outside immediately welcoming you. Although the hairs on your arm stand up and you know you're probably going to catch a cold (because the dress you've chosen for the dinner is not at all appropiate for such winter climate), at least the tension in your body seems to disappear while oxygen keeps that ugly feeling in your heart at bay from continuing to choke you.

With shaky hands, you take a big gulp straight from the champagne bottle. Fuck Park Jimin. No man will ever have the power to make you feel what you're feeling right now. Fuck Park Jimin. And fuck his beautiful face and his ability to make you tremble and fear looking like an idiot. Fuck his fancy clothes and his perfect manicured hands and his marvelous but frigthening presence.

Knock knock.

The sound makes you jump back from the window, hand grasping your chest while you turn around, coming face to face with the man in question. Your first instinct is to ignore him. But that thought is already out of the way when it's him the one who struggles with the window lock before opening and taking a step towards you. You step back as he steps in, raising your head up high and puffing your chest. Because your second instinct is to tell Park Jimin to go fuck himself.

"_____, I would like to-"

"You would like to what?" Jimin looks taken aback at your harshness. Alcohol has always been a weapon of mass destruction in your system, provoking words to flow too easily and without filter out of your mouth, more than they already do when you're sober. Especially when it's mixed with the frustration you've been harboring inside of you for two years. That's why when the words start to come out, they won't stop. "To make me feel like shit one more time? To look at me with that fucking conceited face trying to make me feel like you're better than me? Or would you like to ignore me once again as you always do everytime we're in the same fucking room to make sure I know you hate my mere existance, even if it's just the two of us right now?"

The steam leaving your lips due to the accelerated beat of your heart blurs his face for an instant while he looks at you dumbfounded. The silence and his expression makes you scoff, an acidic smile adorning your face while you take another sip of your drink because even with such a stupid face, he still looks delectable with his white shirt and ruined pants. You turn around, removing a tear that you hadn't even realized had fallen during your speech and that, frankly, you were hoping he hadn't either. You would blame it on the cold, anyway.

This time, a gust of wind running through you from head to toe, making you forget of Park Jimin's presence looming behind you, reminding you it's still December and the fabric of your dress is doing nothing to conceal you from the cold.

But before you can do anything about it and blame yourself for being dumb and not taking your coat with you before deciding to step into balcony, Park Jimin surprises you once again, this time by placing his navy blue blazer over the naked skin of your arms.

Your back straightens when you feel his warm breath caressing the back of your neck, at the same time that a voice you have never heard Park Jimin use with you echoes in your ears.

"I really don't hate you, _____. I..." Jimin wets his lips. His body trembles, but it's not due to lacking his own coat, while his brain hurriedly searches for words eloquent and adequate enough to explain voice his thoughts. "I like you very much, _____."

Scoffing again while you shake your head, you push down with all your inner strenght the incipent fluttering of butterflies in your stomach that Jimin has managed to cause in just a matter of seconds. It's probably the longest sentence you've heard from him in two years, and you don't exactly understand why your body is reacting the way it is. But you're also not willing to give Park Jimin the satisfaction of knowing that. He doesn't deserve it anyway. So with all the courage you can muster, you turn around with your hands clenching.

And even though being at such short distance from Jimin is a bit overwhelming and unexpected for you, the irritation still making your blood bubble is enough to not let a man as handsome as him derail you from your current circumstances.

"Well, fuck you Park Jimin. You certainly have a funny fucking way to sh-" his hands cradling your jaw that pull you closer to him and his lips that silent you roughly, but with surprising care. Only for a moment. A moment in which your body betrays you and make you melt into hir warmth. But his voice, low and sinfully husky, murmurs against your lips.

"God, that mouth of yours..." he goes back to attacking your own lips, this time more firm than before, snatching a sigh from you. The sound has his tongue asking for permission into your mouth, and with your body betraying you once again, you part your lips to allow him in. It's him who whimpers this time, while one of his hand moving until it reaches the bottle in your hand and letting it drop carelessly onto the floor, ignoring the sound of glass shattering and the future scolding you'll get from Taehyung. Instead, he sneaks that same hand on your waist, pulling your body flush against his, fingers digging onto your skin. "It's been driving me crazy for two years. Two years, _____."

He mumbles between kisses and swipes his tongue against yours, while he stars walking the both of you until your back meets the nearest concrete wall.

"Two years of having to hear the incessant filthy words that leave your mouth..." his own stop their movements and you catch yourself before begging him to reattaching his lips to yours, enjoying instead the path of wet kisses and bruises his lips traile from your chin to the pulse of your neck "...and trying my best to hide the painful boners I get whenever you're nearby."

With your eyes shut, your hands are back in motion, ignoring the voice in your head reminding you he's still an asshole and finding their way between Jimin's soft golden strands of hair. He hums in appreciation, sending goosebumps all over your body. "So, s-so why not do anything about it sooner?" you say, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe properly.

You feel Jimin's body tensing before you and he ceases the movement of his lips against your neck. Breaking away, your heart stops, afraid you might have ruined the moment. But Jimin's in search of your eyes, eyebrows very lighlty raised, the intensity of his gaze pinning you in place. You don't know for how long you stare at each other until Jimin comes out of the trance, eyes descending over your flushed cheeks, the very same color as your lips and the soft flesh of your neck until they reach your cleavage, the glimmering fabric encasing your breasts, taunting him the same way they had been doing all night long.

"You scare me so much..." and then, one of his hands repeats the same journey his eyes just did, until he touches your shoulder, right under his own blazer. "Everytime I look at you, all I can think of why the hell a girl as real as you like you would even glance my way." he slides the strap of your dress slowly tentatively, just enough for you to stop his advances if you chose so. You don't. "You're smart in ways I could never compare, so funny it makes me jealous, and so pretty it leaves me speechless. You're...You're everything I'm not."

His voice resonates in the atmosphere, and you would love to blame it on the cold again for how your body has reacted, but your body heat has increased so much since he started kissing you that it would be stupid not to admit that it's just the effect that Park Jimin has on you tonight. You're sure he would've had the same effect if it had happened before.

Your now uncovered breast doesn't even has to suffer the consequences of the icy wind, because one of Jimin's arms quickly comes around you to hold your body against his, lifting you ever so slighty until your erect nipple is at the same level as his mouth and his lips are enveloping it in their warmth. You gasp his name, and that encourages his teeth to tug softly before his tongue stars moving in circes.

"My God, you're so perfect." Your head spins while you hold onto his shoulders as tight as you can, the undeniable heat roaming all over your form, hips involuntarily rutting his incipent erection poking your abdomen. "Been thinking about this since that night we first met." Looking for relief, Jimin mirrors your movements without ceasing the administrations on your chest, as one of his hands lifts one of your thighs to wrap around his waist, closing the short gap remaining between the both of you.

"Ohmygod! F-fuck, Jimin," trying to form coherent phrases is almost impossible, not with Jimin finding a slow and tortuous rythm with his hips, his clothed cock rubbing against your core. Something shifts in the air, because Jimin stops abusing your nipple with a loud pop, and shuts you up by pressing his mouth onto yours in an urgent, dirty and desperate kiss. You could almost hear him swearing, while his hand keeps your jaw in place.

"S-stop talking like that, ______." his voice, inaudible, and his face now hiding in the crook of your neck, the thrusting of his hips speeding up, more and more frantic this time. The hand not holding your thigh against his hipbone reveals your other breast, hand covering it and giving it a light squeeze before tugging at your unattended nipple between his forefinger and his thumb while his tongue and teeth mark the skin on your neck.

"Hell, I've been dying to stuff your mouth with my cock to prevent you from such foul language," the soft whimpers leacving your mouth coax him into taking the hem of your dress and bunching the fabric until his fingers easily find the place in your body calling to him the most through the lace. It's immediate, how his fingers dampen at the first touch, surprising the both of you, and how your body jolts and an embarrassing sob escapes your throat. "How-how are you this wet? Holy hell, I could just slide right in..."

And as he says that, one of his fingers pull aside the fabric of your underwear and glide into you, so easy. You insides burning while he fingers you, another finger being added with his thumb rubbing circles on your nub. And fuck, you're not sure if you're just too horny and Park Jimin is a magician with his hands, or maybe it's the way he keeps mouthing at your chest and whispering how soaked you are, but you don't think you've ever been so close to cumming in such a short period of time.

"W-whats stopping you?" you manage with a voice that doesn't even resembles yours, but before your hands can even make work of the zipper of his trousers, he pulls his finger out from your center, causing you to whine in protest.

Jimin licks his lips, eyebrows framing the dark expression that his eyes ooze. Although the desire in his eyes is more than evident, it is also evident the faint hesitation in them. Because Park Jimin doesn't do things this way. Park Jimin was raised in a world of correct manners and conservationism. A world that has taught him when and how to act. And as badly as he is dying to fuck you against the wall of Taehyung's ridiculously inmense house, he also wants to do the right thing.

"Let me take you on a date."

Park Jimin has been spoiled his whole life. Being born in a well-off family has always provided him of everything he had ever wanted and more. From the innecessary number of toys Santa Claus left under his Christmas tree every year since he was a baby, to his fisrt extravagant sports car at the age of eighteen. Park Jimin has never been a greedy or needy man. How could he, when he's had everything he's ever wished in the palm of his hands. He has never missed anything in his entire life. Hasn't missed a roof over his head, warm food on his plate or brand new designers clothes each week.

It has taken him two years to control himself. He still remembers that night he first met you, just like he remembers every single time you both had coincided in the same place at the same time. He remembered your scent, had memorized your figure over your pieces of clothing and had tried as best as he could to keep a distance from you because he knew you would never give him the time of day. How could you? You probably despised everything he was because he was definitely nothing like you, and that thought intimidated the fuck out of him. He was a mess everytime you wear nearby. Never relied on his voice because he knew he would stutter if you ever spoke to him, could never trust his eyes because if he ever looked at you he was afraid he wouldn't be able to look away.

And everytime you spoke, shit, that voice of yours always cursing here and there left him wondering how would you sound in a different setting and if you would still be that badmouthed. More specifically, between his sheets. So he did everything he could to minimize your interactions as much as possible. He just never thought he would come across as such a jerk. It was never his intention to hurt you, and seeing you cry that night (although you denied you did, over and over again) seriously made him realize he wanted to make things right.

He was trying really, really hard to keep it in his pants, to be the same well composed and controled Park Jimin he had mastered himself to be.

But that damn dress.

After seeing that little black dress hugging your figure when you started taking off your coat at the restaurant, the brief flash of thigh tights that you accidentaly (or not so accidentally) had blessed him with by crossing a leg over the other, that exposed collarbone calling his name and those heeled sandals with straps wrapping around your ankles, reminding him of the snake tempting Eve, Park Jimin was sure he needed to dig into that apple more than anything he has ever needed before.

That's why he surprises you right after you both finish the second course meal by telling the waitress you won't be having desert, at which you look at him somewhat indignant. But the look he shoots you is enough to make you understand if somebody was going to have desert tonight, it would be him. In his Mercedes.

"I'm gonna-" you gasp, fingers tugging at the soft strands of his now ruined blond hair, his head between your thighs and your legs thrown over his shoulders. His hands have a grip of the meaty flesh of your ass, holding you firmly againt his mouth as it works wonders on your clit. You're sure it hasn't even been ten minutes since Jimin had opened your legs in the backseat of his car, not even bothering to take your underwear off, simply moving the fabric aside before diving in, and you already feel yourself on the edge of an orgasm.

"I know." voice vibrating right into your core, he slows down his administrations, tongue carefully and delicately lapping at your folds while he enjoys the feeling of your fingers loosening their grip and fondly brushing his hair back. You meet his eyes as he pushes a finger inside your core and your whole body twists in agony.

"N-no!"

Jimin stops immediately, lifting his head and focusing his concerned eyes on you. He's about to ask you if he's done anything wrong, but you're fast to roughly pull him up by his hair until his face is leveled with yours. You answer him by kissing him and he returns the kiss with the same eagerness, and now it's your hands that are looking for his cock, palming him through his pants.

"Your dick. Inside. Right Now." you punctuate each phrase with a kiss and he only stops kissing you to pout.

"But I wanted you to cum on my tongue." but still, he's putty in your hands when you undo the botton and the zipper. "Wouldn't you rather me fucking you in my bed, where we're more comfortable?" you notice the slight quivering of his voice when you slide his trousers and boxers down, just enough to pull him out.

"You can eat me and fuck me as many times as you want tonight, tomorrow and whenever you'd like, but right now..." none of you contain the moan in unision that leaves each of your mouths when just the head of his lenght comes in contact with your entrance. "I really can't wait anymore." brushing your lips over his, you lower your voice. "Wanna get on my hands and knees for you."

Park Jimin has tried to do things the right and appropiate way throughout all his life. He's been a professional from a very young age on how to be in charge of his emotions, his desires and his impulses. Always well mannered and well composed.

But it's in this moment that Jimin comes to the realization that the only thing that has ever made him lose his mind and self control, is you. Seeing you like this, ass up, grinding your drenched and still thong clad cunt all over his precum dripping lenght, he can't control the way his hand bunches the fabrick of that damn dress over your waist, then flies to your right cheek, a sharp sound of skin filling the air, tearing a gasp from your throat.

"God, I'm-I'm sorry. Couldn't help mys-"

"Do it again."

And he does, the palm of his hand now leaving a reddenning print on your flesh, making you jolt back involuntarily, aligning yourself to the head of his cock and like he had hoped, he slides right in. Not all the way, because Jimin is sure he would cream inside you too soon and he wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he did. He wets his lips, clenching his jaw and dropping his palm one more time, hand more steady and purposeful.

"You like it rough?" voice hoarse and a hand beside your head holding himself, your back to his chest, twitching beneath him as he soothes the sting with his free one.

"I like you rough." turning your head slowly to peer at him from the corner of your eye, your hips moving on their own accord trying to take him deeper. Your head is suddenly pulled back harshly, Jimin's fingers tangling in your hair as his own hips close the remaining gap between your bodys in an abrupt thurst. You squeal, Jimin's cock finally filling you up to the hilt just like you wanted him to be, the pleasure making your arms wobble and finding it harder to mantain your balance.

Jimin's breath fawns over your ear, his tongue darting out to suck on your skin sending chills down your spine. "You're such a dream." he groans, torturously sliding out of your core that's gripping around his shaft for dear life. A whine of protest escapes your lips and he tightens the hold on your hair in response, diving right back in. You fall forward, your arms' strenght betraying you as his thrusts find a new rhythm. With your eyes closed shut, you try to muffle the sound of your voice with the back of your hand as Jimin's lips place soft kisses to your exposed shoulder.

"Don't be quiet." he stands straight, the pull on your hair arching your back in such a enticing way it was Jimin look away for a second, cock buried inside of you and his hips faltering. "Been dying to have you like this for so long."

Another clap of his hand against your right cheek, and a particular stroke of his dick that has you mewling as your climax approached again. "S-so good, Jimin. Oh my god."

"You're gonna cum for me?" his fingertips leave bruises on your skin and the windows of his Mercedes are foggy, just like your mind. You can't concentrate on anything that's not Jimin's cock sliding in and out and how much you wished this had happened way sooner. "Gonna cum for me like a good slut?"

Park Jimin always takes his time. Always does things nice and slow to assure the best outcome possible.

But he can't contain the acceleration of his hips against yours as your walls clench impossibly tight around his cock, your orgasm finally taking over . Can't contain himself from falling forward again, hand twisting your head in his direction and his mouth searching for yours in a fiery and messy kiss. And he most definitely can't barely contain himself from cumming when your you ask him to spit in your mouth.

"You're gonna kill me." he breathes, removing himself off you and quickly maneuvering you on your back, his dick finding its way back inside you. Picking up right where he left off, skin slapping against skin in an obscene melody, he collects a considerate amount of saliva in his mouth before dropping it into your welcoming tongue, watching you swallow with a smile he hopes he'll be the only one to see in the future.

And that's what has the last bit of his self restraint slipping from his fingers. He somehow manages to rip the top of your dress down, fabric tearing until your tits are free and his mouth is attacking your nipples, white strings of his release panting your walls, some of it them oozing out that he fucks back right into you.

It's between ragged breaths, kisses and tender carresses that Jimin promises you more dates in the future and new dresses that he can't promise not to savage apart again.

#jimin #park jimin #jimin smut #park jimin smut #bts smut #bts #pjm #pjm smut #bad bunny is retiring like who the fuck does he think he is to decide when he gets to retire???#nah bb WE decide when you retire

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signalwatch · 2 years ago

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Friday Holiday Watch Party: A Christmas Melody (2015)

Watched: 12/09/2022

Format: Amazon Watch Party

Viewing: First

Director: Mariah Carey (...I KNOW!)

I thought it was very strange that A Christmas Melody (2015) does not play more on Hallmark's two 24/7 Christmas movies channels. It stars Hallmark favorite Lacey Chabert and America's Accidental Christmas Mascot, Mariah Carey, with a supporting role from the omnitalented Kathy Najimy. I mean - seems like a winner, as far as Hallmark goes. I was wondering if Carey had some deal that made it financially onerous for Hallmark to run the movie, or there was some extenuating circumstance. But, no.

Friends, this movie isn't very good.

I mean, sure, you could blame the fact they gave a whole movie to Mariah Carey to direct (no, she did direct it), but something is wrong at the script stage and it feels like 2015 was a year Hallmark's writers were still figuring out the formula and forgot to do things like give the male romantic lead any inner life so he doesn't seem creepy.

The movie is also deeply insistent that we're all who we were in high school, and that's all we should ever be, which, I mean... oh no. Please, no. Like so many Hallmark movies, our hero (Chabert) has a job which everyone kinda thinks they can do if they tried, and stems less from formal training than it does from "gee, I must be innately special" - at least how Hallmark sees creative skills. She's supposedly in LA but I guess her husband is dead and now her business has failed, so she returns to the small town from whence she came to live in her also recently deceased father's house. She's having a time, man. Merry Christmas.

Everyone keeps telling her how much she hated living there and kinda rubbing it in that she's back, and there's this weird dynamic that she doesn't remember hating it - and that bit is both oft repeated and seems to exist just so people can be like "you're back? Really?" and is never resolved.

The film also feels like a particularly weird selection for Mariah Carey herself. Like, okay, the movie is, in part, about a kid who can supposedly sing her butt off, but they hold that til literally the last scene. Why? Why not have a few numbers scattered throughout. I'm just not sure this was the right material for her, but we are treated to Mariah Carey getting very special set-ups when she's in scenes as the mean-girl lady who everybody kind of rolls their eyes at.

Carey, Chabert and the guy with weird hair Chabert winds up with are all supposed to be the same age. They clearly, clearly are not, no matter what movie says. Chabert is too young, Carey is chronologically 15 years older or so than Chabert even if she's been celeb-polished into agelessness, and the guy looks the 12 years or so older than Chabert. Like - it's just not that hard to do this, and yet. (Also, Carey is constantly filmed in close-up with a layer of vaseline over the lens and lighting so soft it's cotton).

There's a pretty good Santa who we all know is Santa but here he's posing as a super-involved custodian. Like, it's not creepy, but you're like... this Santa Janitor is REALLY focused on these people to the detriment of doing his basic job.

I didn't hate what music there was the way my fellow watchers did, but it's an odd, odd fit for the movie.

The movie is just sort of weird in that it feels, as Jamie mentioned, kind of empty. Like, the basics are there, but it's underwritten or something (we'll cover "over written" in a future post) and folks are just going through the motions.

Anyway. I guess it's not very good. And so it's been buried.

https://ift.tt/WtZDGIg

from The Signal Watch https://ift.tt/LgqiyOB

#mariah carey #lacey chabert #hallmark movies

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thegirlonpeetamellark · 4 years ago

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Christmas Break - Part 1

Surprise!! After a looong time away Court returns to Everlark fic world with a little holiday treat for everyone - enjoy! :)

Hi everyone. So 2020 has sucked. For me, the beginning of quarantine was actually a bit of a gift. Being home gave me the gift of time, something I haven’t had much of as my daughters (who were very little when I started writing in this fandom) have gotten older. While I never stopped writing, it was a struggle to find long enough chunks of time to get into a flow. I started writing again with earnest. Not all of it was my fanfiction; some of it was my original work. El keeps me posted on the humbling and kind asks she gets about my writing. I felt bad that despite my increased writing, I still wasn’t ready to update any WIPs. But I did remember a story I had started for the final holiday PiP that I was never able to get past the first page (due to lack of time that year) and to my surprise, it started flowing. I had every intention of finishing it and having El post it as a gift to this fandom. But once my school went “back” in October and hybrid learning started, that was it. My time was gone. And further, my family experienced the very sudden and non-Covid-related death of my aunt. So while I have nearly half of this story written, it’s not done. But it will be, very soon, since it is a one-shot. As with all my stories, it took on a life of its own and it needs more love. So what I have for the readers who have loyally followed me is the first part, the part that involves Christmas. It’s my hope to have a second part posted in a week or two, so that by the time that part posts, a final part is nearly done.

Thank you for your asks and your patience, and thank you to El, one of my favorite people in this world and the best thing my time in this fandom has given me. Thank you for your encouragement. Our friendship means the world to me.

Here’s to a better 2021. Love to you all. Court

Christmas Break

Fuck, not again, Peeta grouses as the opening notes of that insidious Mariah Carey song pipe through the loudspeaker. That’s the third time in the last two hours. He’s all for holiday spirit, but if he never hears this fucking song again it will be too soon.

Leaning his forehead against the cold pane of glass, he peers out of the fourth-story window into the darkened sky. When he had arrived at work a few hours ago, the snow had just been starting to fall; a slow, lazy tumble of flakes. Now it’s coming down in a tumultuous swirl. It figures Panem would finally see a white Christmas his first Christmas Eve on rotation in the emergency room. No doubt the weather is partially to blame for the crush of bodies crowding the waiting room tonight.

Peeta walks away from the window and opens the cabinet where he stashes his Clif bars. The economy-sized box looks suspiciously closer to empty than it did the other day. He’s heard complaints from other doctors and nurses that snacks are pilfered on a regular basis and was warned to label his own boxes. But he had forgone the warnings. If someone needed an energy bar badly enough to steal one, what was the $20 he had spent on them at Costco. He snags one and unwraps it.

He’s just raised it to his mouth when his Apple watch pings and his silenced cell phone pulses insistently against his thigh. Heaving a loud sigh, he sets down the energy bar and withdraws the phone from his pocket.

“Mom, you’ve got exactly 60 seconds,” he grits out. He doesn’t even need to look at the screen to confirm it’s her. She’s called twice already tonight, calls he’s ignored with good reason, but somehow his mother thinks a phone call from her trumps any actual emergencies her doctor son could be dealing with. Which, tonight, have been nonstop since his shift began at six.

“Please tell me you ate something,” she begins.

“I was just about to, when you called,” he replies. “I’ve only got a couple of minutes. It’s been utter chaos for the last four hours.”

“We missed you at dinner. I can’t remember the last Christmas Eve when I didn’t have all three of my boys together.” Peeta closes his eyes. All these years my mother has been gushing about having a doctor in the family, and yet she never stopped to consider the ramifications of actually having a doctor in the family, he thinks. Particularly its impact on holiday gatherings. She obviously hadn’t learned anything from this past Thanksgiving, as now, just a month later, she’s already dumping a fresh guilt trip on him for missing another family dinner.

She continues, “And Jackson and Maxwell were just devastated when they heard you weren’t coming, until I assured them they’d see you tomorrow. We will see you tomorrow, yes?”

Peeta suppresses another exasperated sigh and breaks off a chunk of the Clif bar. “Yes, Mom, I’ll be there.” And though it’s childish, he crams the bar into his mouth and mumbles around it, “I wouldn’t miss it for anything.” His chewing masks the sarcasm that weighs down the words.

“Excellent. We need an updated family portrait before Everly and Rye have to leave for her parents’ house.” Placated, his mother moves to ends the call, but not before getting in a less-than-subtle comment about how much she adores his brother Rye’s fiancée and how happy she is Rye is settling down.

Staring at the disconnected call flashing on the screen, Peeta tries not to let the remark get to him. Mostly because he knows it’s a lie. His mother has complained more than once about Everly and how she’s not good enough for Rye. Peeta knows the dig was directed at him. He hasn’t truly had a serious girlfriend since junior year of college; just a few casual relationships that barely qualified as relationships. He doesn’t know how his mother expects him to meet someone with the hours he keeps. And his father, for as close as they are, never seems willing to jump to Peeta’s defense.

Taking a deep breath to let his irritation suffuse, he jams his phone back in his pocket and scarfs down the rest of his pathetic dinner. All three bites of it. Then he uses the restroom, dutifully washes his hand, and stalks out of the staff lounge, his short break over.

As he strides up the corridor, he hears loud shouting coming from the ER waiting room.

“…should be asleep in her bed, waiting for Santa Claus to come, but instead, we’re still here waiting for someone to take a look at her arm! It’s been over two hours! Don’t you people have any compassion? Or is Ebenezer Freaking Scrooge running this place tonight?”

Curious, Peeta veers towards the reception desk, where his eyes land on the ranting woman. She’s young, probably no older than her mid-twenties, and in spite of the fact that her dark hair is spilling out of a messy braid and she’s not wearing any makeup, Peeta is immediately struck by her beauty. The rosy flush to her cheeks from her tirade actually makes her even prettier. She’s cradling a toddler and protectively shielding the little girl’s right arm. The toddler’s blonde head rests on her mother’s shoulder, her thumb wedged into her tiny pink mouth. Her left arm clutches a stuffed orange cat. She looks tired. Actually, both mother and daughter do.

“Miss, I understand your frustration, I really do,” the receptionist says calmly, her eyes cutting to Peeta as he stops by her side. He reads the name on the file on top of the stack, the next patient scheduled to be seen: MCMURPHY, JOSEPH. Clearly not the little girl in front of him.

“I don’t think you do!” the young mother cries, her eyes flashing steel. “She’s three, she’s in pain, and she’s scared. And what’s more, I’ve seen at least five people go ahead of us who came in after us!”

“That’s not how the emergency room works, miss,” the receptionist replies. She drums her fingertips on the desk, offering the young mother a tight smile.

“It’s Christmas Eve,” the young mother adds, an edge of desperation creeping into her tone. Discreetly, Peeta moves around the receptionist’s chair, scanning the desktop until he spies the stack of files for the patients awaiting admission. While the receptionist continues to give the young mother the run-around, he thumbs through the stack, searching. His eyes land on what he’s looking for: a date of birth. His lips tip up. Bingo. This has to be it: HAWTHORNE, IVY ANN.

At the exact second his hand snatches Ivy’s file from the pile and slips the other one in amongst the stack, the young mother’s eyes lock on his. Her gaze narrows. He can see the exhaustion all over her beautiful face. Her full lips twitch, her countenance suspicious as they stare at one another.

“Ivy Hawthorne?” Peeta taps the file he had extricated. An immediate flicker of relief lights the young mother’s mercury eyes, and that lush mouth breaks into a grateful, relieved smile. The receptionist’s neck snaps up. “I’ve got this,” he adds, his tone leaving no room for her to argue with him. It’s not protocol for Peeta to take a patient directly, but it’s also not blatantly against the rules. Sure, it might mean a little more work for him, but if it means he can get this little girl home sooner on Christmas Eve, it’s worth it.

He smiles at the little girl. “Ivy, I’m Doctor Mellark. I’m going to help make you feel better, okay?” She nods once but doesn’t lift her head from her mother’s shoulder. Peeta’s arm sweeps to the side, ushering the young mother and Ivy past the desk. He scans the hallway and spies a partially drawn curtain halfway up the corridor. He leads them to the available partition and close the curtain behind them. As he turns to face them, he nearly slams into the woman. She hasn’t moved, and her luminous grey eyes fasten to his. She looks as if she’s going to say something, but several seconds pass and she’s still quiet, still watching him. The silence starts to become uncomfortable. Peeta clears his throat.

“If you’d have a seat, please, Mrs. Hawthorne. You can hold her while I get some more information from you.”

The young woman’s lips part slightly, again appearing as if she wants to say something, but instead she shuffles forward and Peeta waits while she settles on the edge of the hospital bed, gingerly adjusting Ivy so she’s sitting sideways across her mother’s lap.

Peeta sinks down onto the stool and scoots towards the edge of the bed. This close he has a much better look at Ivy’s mother. She really is a beautiful young woman, and given how adorable Ivy is Peeta assumes her husband is probably also very attractive. He feels a twinge of jealousy. Lucky bastard. Pretty wife, cute kid…probably has a nice little house and a golden retriever too. Living the dream. His dream, if he allows himself to admit it to anyone but his mother. If he was being perfectly honest, he had always envisioned himself married by now.

“How old are you, Ivy?” he ask, even though he knows from her chart and her mother’s declaration that she’s three years old. She hesitates, and still clutching the stuffed cat, manages to display three fingers. Peeta smiles at her again.

“I have a nephew who is the exact same age as you are. He told me just last week that he’s a big boy now. Are you a big girl, Ivy?” He keeps his tone gentle, hoping it will put her at ease with him. She nods, her big blue eyes lightening imperceptibly. “I thought so. Can you be a big girl and tell me what happened to your arm?”

Her mother answers automatically, “She fell. I was only gone—” Peeta holds up his palm. He has the triage nurse’s initial assessment, so he knows Ivy’s arm is likely broken. What he doesn’t know is how the arm got broken. And those details he needs to try to get from Ivy herself. Kids her age always tell the truth when it comes to how they were injured, and unfortunately it’s part of Peeta’s job to make sure there isn’t a more sinister reason she’s in the E.R. tonight, no matter how sweet and innocent her mother appears. He’s already had a few encounters with suspected child abuse, though his gut tells him that isn’t the case with Ivy Hawthorne.

“Please. I would like Ivy to tell me how it happened.”

Something dangerous flints in Ivy’s mother’s now stormy grey eyes.

“She. Fell.” The words are curt, enunciated coolly, but her voice is soft and Peeta can tell she’s keeping her temper in check for the benefit of her daughter. Eyes still pinned to his, she inhales deeply. A second later, her shoulders relax. “Go ahead and tell the nice doctor how you hurt your arm,” she whispers, stroking Ivy’s curls.

“I was trying to see Santa,” Ivy replies, her tongue tripping in a lisp on the “S’s.”

“What do you mean by that?” he prompts her.

Ivy scrunches up her button nose. “I was trying to see up the chimney. ‘Cause the chimney at Aunt Katniss’s house is so skinny and Santa Claus is real fat and I don’t know how he’s gonna fit down it to bring me my presents!” Her blue eyes brim with tears and her lower lip starts to tremble. Peeta reaches over and pats her knee.

“I wouldn’t worry about that, sweetheart. Santa Claus is magic. He’ll get you your presents, no matter what the chimney looks like.” He exchanges a look with her mother.

“It was all my fault,” she says quietly. “I went in the kitchen, to get the cookies and milk—”

“And the carrots! For Rudolph and the other reindeer!” Ivy chimes in, her eyes shiny wet.

“I never should have left her alone, not even for a second. This is my fault. It’s my fault. She wouldn’t have slipped and fallen off the hearth if I had been watching her.” Guilt chokes her words, and it sounds as if she’s close to tears.

“Accidents happen, Mrs. Hawthorne,” Peeta says empathetically, “that’s why there are emergency rooms.” She presses her lips together, her brows knitting.

“It’s Everdeen,” she says quietly. Peeta drops his eyes to Ivy’s chart, and furrows his brows, his gaze wandering to the young woman’s left hand. No ring. A brief thrill curls through him at the thought that she’s single. Asshole, he immediately chides himself. So not what you should be thinking about right now. He scans the chart more carefully and shakes his head.

“I’m sorry,” he begins, “but this lists Primrose Hawthorne as the mother, under the Parent/Guardian information, and a Rory Hawthorne as the father. I just assumed—”

She cuts him off. “Primrose Hawthorne was her mother. But I’m not Primrose Hawthorne. I’m Katniss. Katniss Everdeen. I’m her aunt. I should be listed as her primary emergency contact.” She swallows and squeezes her eyes shut briefly. When she opens them, they plead with his. Peeta glances down at Ivy, and then raises his eyes to Katniss again. The guilt that was clouding those silver irises a moment ago has dissipated, replaced with anguish. He doesn’t know what the full story is here, but he didn’t miss Katniss’s usage of the past tense in referring to Ivy’s mother. So he honors her silent appeal not to ask questions.

“Okay, Ivy, you fell, and you landed on your arm? I bet that hurt,” Peeta says to the little girl, but his gaze stays fastens on Katniss. She gives him the faintest smile and mouths, “Thank you.”

~*~*~*~

An hour later, the orthopedist informs Peeta that Ivy Hawthorne is ready for his approval to be discharged. Not wanting to keep her and her aunt waiting any later than necessary, he sets down the X-ray he had been studying, and heads back to where Ivy is.

Standing outside the curtain, he hears quiet singing. He draws back the curtain and sees Katniss seated on the bed, with Ivy nestled in her lap. A bright pink cast safely cocoons the girl’s arm. Her blonde head rests on Katniss’s shoulder. Her eyes are closed, and her little body rises and falls with the deep breathing of sleep.

Katniss continues to sing, unaware of Peeta’s presence. He doesn’t recognize the tune she’s singing. It’s not a Christmas carol, at least not one he’s ever heard before, but he continues to listen, captivated by her voice. It’s soft and decidedly feminine, but there’s raspy undercurrent to it that gives him chills. It’s like the first sip of a rich, smoky bourbon.

Gingerly, he tiptoes towards the bed and stands before her for several more minutes, until Katniss finally lifts her eyes. She immediately stops singing. Peeta smiles and nods towards Ivy.

“Someone is worn out,” he whispers. Katniss’s lips twitch into a chagrinned smile.

“I’m sure the second we get home she’ll be wide awake and it’ll take forever to get her into bed. She was already amped up about Santa Claus before this.” She tips her head and gestures with her chin towards Ivy’s arm.

“Warm milk. With a little bit of cinnamon,” he suggests.

“Really?” Her eyes round. “Cinnamon? That really works?” Disbelief clouds her words. He shrugs sheepishly.

“I have no idea. No kids. And I’ve never had much trouble sleeping. I’m usually asleep the minute my head hits the pillow. But I’ve heard from a friend with a toddler that it does the trick.” He waits for her to say something—anything—in response, but she doesn’t. Her gaze is back on the sleeping toddler in her arms.

Watching her stare tenderly at her niece causes something unexpected to claw at Peeta’s chest and he’s overwhelmed by a fierce compulsion to want to keep her here, to get to know more about her. It’s been a long time since he felt this kind of instant attraction to a woman. Why couldn’t he have met her under different circumstances?

“Are we all done, doctor?”

Peeta startles from his thoughts and offers Katniss an apologetic smile.

“Yes, sorry. You are good to go as soon as you sign here—” He holds the clipboard at an angle, to allow her to sign without having to disturb Ivy, “and here.” He flips the sheet back to the second page and she scrawls her name across the line there, too. Normally a nurse would go over discharge papers and protocol with patients, but Peeta had taken it upon himself to grab Ivy’s. He needed to spend every possible minute in Katniss’s presence.

Once the release forms are complete, he review the plan for Ivy’s follow-up care, including how to manage any pain she has and when she’ll need to return to have the cast removed. Katniss listens attentively.

When he’s finished, she stands up slowly, her movements tentative so as not to jostle Ivy. A sigh parts the little girl’s lips and she stirs, but she remains asleep. God, she’s cute, Peeta thinks.

“Thank you, Dr. Mellark,” Katniss says softly. “For everything. I know what you did…” She falters. “I mean, I know we, ah, weren’t next, and ah…” Peeta waves a hand dismissively, sensing her discomfort with his hijacking of the queued patients.

“It was my pleasure,” he replies. “Little girls should be home on Christmas Eve. Waiting for Santa.” He echoes Katniss’s earlier words. “I hope he’s good to her.”

He doesn’t miss the forlorn expression that flits across Katniss’s face as she glances down at her sleeping niece.

“He can’t bring her what she wants most, but he’ll try,” she murmurs and moves towards the open curtain. Just before she steps out into the hall, she pauses and turns to face Peeta.

“Merry Christmas,” she adds.

“Merry Christmas,” he concurs. With a faint smile, she steps around the curtain. It rustles in her wake and resettles. Peeta exhales and slumps against the wall, regret washing through him, followed by a stronger wave of sadness at seeing Katniss go. If it hadn’t been for Ivy, he might have concocted some kind of delay to keep Katniss here longer, found some excuse to pry more information out of her. Like if she’s single. A surge of adrenaline spikes in his blood. He can’t let her go this easily.

He bolts out into the corridor, scanning the bustling hallway for any sign of Katniss and Ivy, but they’ve vanished. Disappointed, his shoulders slump as he trudges towards the nurses’ station to hand off Ivy’s file.

It’s probably best, a nagging little voice inside him taunts, and he reluctantly concedes that it probably is. As much as he’d love to finally shut his mother up and find a woman that he’d want to spend more than a night with, it’s not fair to subject one to the kind of schedule he has to keep. New doctors are low-man-on-the-totem-pole. He’s had mostly graveyard shifts and he’s often on call. It’s his dream to have a pediatric practice, but he’s well aware that he’ll have to toil for a couple of years to get on track to make that dream a reality.

A few minutes later, en route to his next examination, Peeta spies Johanna, one of the triage nurses, coming out of the room Ivy had occupied. His eyes immediately narrow when his gaze lands on her left arm.

“Was that in there?” He motions towards the vacated room and then nods towards the stuffed cat Johanna has wedged under her armpit.

“What, the cat? Yeah. It must have fallen under the bed. I’ll take it to the station, in case someone comes back to claim it.”

Ivy’s cherubic little face flashes in Peeta’s mind. He remember how fiercely she had been clutching that cat, and how she had reluctantly agreed to put it down when it had been time for Delly, another one of the triage nurses, to take her for X-rays.

Peeta’s pulse quickens and he immediately thrusts his hand towards Johanna. “I’ll take it,” he says impulsively. She wrinkles her nose and cocks her head, her hazel eyes intensely scrutinizing him. Though they have a casual friendship, Johanna is far too insightful for her own good. Peeta doesn’t really need her questioning his motives for taking possession of the toy.

“The little girl it belongs to goes to preschool with Max. I’ll make sure he takes it to her after the holiday break.” Fuck, that lie flew off his tongue so easily he almost believes it himself. Johanna shrugs and tosses Peeta the cat.

“Suit yourself. One less thing to overflow the Lost and Found.” She strides past him and disappears into Triage 6. He stares down at the stuffed animal. His heart skips another beat and a slow smile tugs at his mouth.

~*~*~*~

Stifling another yawn, Peeta squints at the numbers above the garage. He’s definitely in the right place. He kills the engine and sits for a moment, glancing at the clock on the navigation system. It’s quarter after nine. Early, but not obscenely so. When his shift had ended at six am, he had driven home and fought the urge to crawl into bed; instead, he grabbed a quick shower and freshened up. True, part of him hadn’t wanted to see Katniss Everdeen again looking like the bedraggled, exhausted mess he was at the end of a rotation, and also true, he was going to have to clean up before he’s due at his parents’ house at one. But he also knew he couldn’t really have shown up at Katniss’s house at the crack of dawn on Christmas morning, even if he suspects Ivy likely had her up by then. He recalls, with a wistful smile, that Christmas morning was the one morning he and his brothers were always awake before his father. It was only a question of which Mellark brother was going to be the first to rouse the others. Him being the youngest, it was usually him, he admits with a wider grin.

He quietly exits his car, careful not to slam the door, and gingerly steps across the icy driveway. He pauses at the un-shoveled front walk, where a pristine blanket of snow blocks his path. “Shit,” he whispers, gritting his teeth as he takes the first step. His foot plunges into the deep drift, up to nearly his calf. He braces himself and takes a huge step, hoping to eat up the distance in a few long strides. Fortunately, it’s not a long front walk. He reaches the also un-shoveled front steps and carefully ascends them. He contemplates ringing the doorbell, but instead raps his knuckles against the door. His breath pipes out in white plumes and he rubs his palms together for warmth as he waits.

No one comes to the door, at least not immediately. Peeta lifts his fist again, but just before his knuckles can connect with the wood again, the front door opens a crack and he’s suddenly looking at Katniss. Those silver eyes round almost comically as recognition lights them.

“D-Doctor Mellark? Wh-what are you….”

“Hi. Merry Christmas,” he begins. “I thought Ivy would be missing this.” He smiles and holds up the stuffed cat.

Katniss stares at him, her lips parting faintly, and shock and confusion war on her pretty face. But then her grey eyes darken with what Peeta can only describe as restrained fury.

She opens the door fully and glares at him.

“You had Ivy’s cat?” she accuses.

“Uh…yeah…” he stammers, his own confusion welling. Why is she so angry? “My nephew…he has a bear. Otis. Can’t sleep without that thing. I thought if Ivy is anything like Max…well, she’d be missing this.” He holds the cat out to Katniss. She snatches it so violently that she stumbles backwards. Peeta is equally jarred, but his jolt is from the very brief brush of Katniss’s fingers against his when she had grabbed the toy.

But Katniss gives him no time to revel in the feeling.

“So this is why no one at the hospital had a goddamned clue what I was talking about when I called there looking for this cat an hour ago!” she spits.

Shit, Peeta thinks, an uneasy feeling clawing its way into his gut.

“Why the fuck—” He can’t help but notice her slight hesitation before she lobs the obscenity at him. “—would you take my niece’s cat? Is this something normal people do?” She’s shivering visibly as she rants, a clear consequence of stepping onto her front porch wearing nothing but green plaid pajama pants and a threadbare black Henley shirt.

“I….I…” He shakes his head. He’s not even sure how to defend his actions. He can’t very well tell her his ulterior motives in bringing the stuffed cat back to her niece. Not now. He definitely fucked this up.

“I was just trying to be nice. That I’d save you a trip on Christmas morning,” he finishes lamely.

Katniss’s nostrils flare and her jaw flexes. “Christmas morning,” she mutters, just barely audible over the clattering of her teeth. “Did it occur to you, Dr. Mellark, that I might be looking for Ivy’s cat and I might call the hospital looking for this cat?” She shakes the toy in his face. “And did it occur to you that, in spite of all the toys she had just opened, Ivy might be bawling and throwing a fit because Buttercup was missing?”

Buttercup, he has to assume, is the stuffed cat.

She pauses, as if waiting for him to defend himself, but all he can do is swallow against the lump crowding his throat.

So she continues, “They made me think I was crazy—but not until after they left me on hold for 20 minutes while I tried to calm a wailing toddler. And then they said there was no toy matching this description in the Lost and Found. And that’s because you had it!” Her eyes are a maelstrom now, but he notices that an edge of frustration has crept into her furious tone.

“And now Ivy doesn’t have it. So thank you. Thank you very much, Dr. Mellark. Merry Christmas.” And before Peeta can release the breath he’s been holding during her outburst and plead his case, she whirls around, her disheveled braid lancing through the air like a whip, and slams the door behind her. Stunned, Peeta can only stare at the wreath on the door as he processes what just happened.

What. The. Fuck.

Heart pounding, gut churning, Peeta retreats to his car. He takes a few minutes to absorb the shock of his encounter with Katniss, his mind reeling through the accusations she made. He never would have expected her to react like this. So much for any shot with Katniss Everdeen.

He finally gathers his composure and navigates out of her complex. As he drives, his mind continues replaying Katniss’s words over and over, and he finds one thing nags at him.

And now Ivy doesn’t have it.

Those words don’t make much sense to him. He just gave the stuffed animal back to Katniss. She can give it back to Ivy. She’ll have it now. In her wrath, Katniss just wasn’t being rational, he decides.

But her words continue to haunt him off and on for the rest of the day. Along with persistent images of Katniss that further torment him. She is never far from his conscious thoughts. As he sits down next to the fireplace in his parents’ house with a tumbler of scotch to exchange gifts with his brothers and his nephews, he finds himself wondering who Katniss is celebrating with. Ivy, obviously. But does she have other family?

By the time the Mellarks all settle around the table for dinner, he’s conjured up the notion that Katniss may not be married, but she surely has a devoted boyfriend who is showering her with gifts at this very moment. Her mood is infinitely better than what Peeta witnessed earlier. She’s probably dressed nice for him, and he’s sitting around her dining room table with Katniss and Ivy, like a makeshift family.

His mother’s irritation is palpable when she has to command his attention twice to try and draw him into the discussion centered on Rye’s upcoming wedding. Peeta murmurs the apology he knows she expects and feigns his dutiful brotherly interest for Rye’s benefit the remainder of the meal. But a dull ache has taken up residence in the center of his chest and he realizes just how badly he wants what his brothers have.

He just won’t be having it with Katniss Everdeen.

#everlark #the hunger games #everlark fanfiction #court81981

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rason-rodd · 4 years ago

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The Boy Who Didn’t Like Christmas - Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: You decide to surprise Jason with a Christmas tree but things don’t go as planed. Did he really just call you a friend?

Warning : Fluff, Humor, Slight Angst

Author’s note: A new Bat-Christmas one shot, this time with Jason (the last one will be with Dick). I tried to make Reader as general neutral as possible. Hope you’ll like it

“You’re clearly not from the Hill … or the Narrows.” You were pretty certain the rebuke would have hurt ten times more if Dana Harlowe had said everything she was keeping well hidden in her badass heart. But there was no need to say more. It was clear she didn’t hold you close to her heart. To her, you were the pain in the ass from Uptown Gotham, the one who certainly knew nothing about striving to get out of the dirt and who had certainly always get what she wanted by simply twitching her nose. In a nutshell, everything she was happy not to be. But you had one thing in common. Or at least, one person. Jason Todd. Dana had known him for over a decade. You had known him for a couple of months. But you as well as she had learned to deeply care about him, except that one of you had let things go way beyond friendship quite a couple of times. That one being you. “I was just suggesting bringing Jason a Christmas tree to decorate his apartment, Dana. That’s it.” You tried to defend yourself as you buried you hands in your pocket. “And how many times should I tell you that Jason hates Christmas?” You sighed as you both could barely keep your annoyance to yourself anymore. “No one really hates Christmas.” “So what you’re going to show up to his place with a goddamn tree, all dolled up, flutter your eyelashes and hope he won’t be mad at you?” You shrugged. “That’s an idea”

***

And Dana hadn’t been able to stop you. So, one Sunday afternoon you showed up to Jason’s place with a bag filled with brand new Christmas decorations and a heavy tree that had made you sweat streams to carry in the old staircases and, with a tired sigh, you rang at Jason’s door. He opened it without waiting or looking through the spyhole, apparently not thinking (or caring) about the possibility of a lunatic waiting on his doorstep with a deadly weapon. “You know I could have been a very angry elf with a gun. You should use that little peephole” “ Y/N” He looked astonished to see you here, especially with all that Christmas stuff “I…” “By the way, you should also write your co-ownership trustee and ask for an elevator. Yours stairs are a living hell.” You declared to make sure he wouldn’t have time to realise or protest against what you were planning to do. “Give me a hand, would you?” You asked as you tried to drag the tree by the crown inside the apartment, sprinkling the ancient wooden floor with pine needles. “Explain.” Jason demanded as he helped you carry the Christmas tree to the corner of his living room and erect it. “There! Perfect.” You clapped your hands, proud that the tree was still looking good despite the mistreatment you have given it and also because it was standing in Jason’s apartment, contradicting all of Dana’s sayings that “a Christmas tree will never cross Jason Todd’s doorstep”. “Suck it, Dana!” “Alright. You’re weird today. What’s with the tree?” Jason’s face seemed a bit twisted, as he didn’t know if he should smile or be worried. “Next week, it’s Christmas. You can’t celebrate Christmas without a Christmas tree.” He frowned, definitely looking for the right words in his beautiful yet tortured head of his to be sure he would not kill your excitement or hurt your feelings. “Y/N. I wasn’t planning on celebrating Christmas this year.” “I know. Dana told me about you being Scrooge Jr.” You joked, not caring at all, as you opened the plastic bag full of decorations to empty it on the couch. “That’s a bit overstating things.” Jason scratched his head. He had never heard anyone compare him to Dicken’s famous character. “I mean. Not liking Christmas doesn’t make me a miserly bitter old man.” “Were you planning on spending Christmas alone sitting on your couch with cold noodles, watching Netflix and calling Christmas humbug?” He waited before answering, trying to see how he could debunk you little argument. But there was no way. “Not Netflix. Cutthroat Kitchen.” “Oh my god. You’re Scrooge.” You sighed, exasperated before showing a beautiful transparent Christmas ball with little snowflakes inside. “Look how cute!” Your enthusiasm made him smile discreetly but not discreetly enough to go unnoticed. “I guess there’s no way I’m gonna stop you, right?” You shook your head. “You can still try but no. I’m going to give you some Christmas spirit, choke you with it if I must and I won’t leave this place until you love it. And mark my word, I will use string lights if needed” You threatened as you showed him the lights. “You would really tie me up to the tree? You know BDSM is not my thing.” “ No I would tie myself to the tree. Because as much as I know you can throw that tree away once I’m gone, I’m sure you won’t be able do so if I’m tied to it.” “And why so?” He smirked, curious to know your reason. “Cause you like me too much.” Was he really an open book? He never thought so but there was something with you, something weird and unusual that could make him act in strange ways. Perhaps was he getting soft. “And also, because you wouldn’t get my very special gift if you kick me out.” Jason squinted and you played with your eyebrows as you bit your lower lip so that he would get the naughty message. That eventually made him laugh and he tried to remember when was the last time he thought sexy could be funny. “Ah. The things I would do for you.” He kissed the top of your head softly, making your shiver and close your eyes and for a second you tried to resist the sudden urge to catch him by the neck and kiss him on the lips. Not that he would have minded, you thought. But there was a difference between occasional sex and displays of affection. “Let’s do this. Before you decide to make me sing Mariah Carey.” “Oh …” You pretended to think about the idea with a finger over your lips. “Don’t push it.”

And so you ended up decorating the Christmas together, laughing and chatting about some random stuff until you dared ask. “Why don’t you like Christmas?” Jason froze for a moment and you saw him close his eyes to take a deep breath. “Well it’s difficult to like Christmas when you’ve got a family like mine.” He finally declared as he hung a Christmas ball on a branch. “You mean Bruce …” You supposed though you were not sure of you should continue this conversation. “If only there was just Bruce.” You decided to be quiet when you noticed his sudden bitterness but he chose to keep talking. “I never had a proper Christmas as a kid. When mum wasn’t completely stoned on the bathroom floor, dad was in jail. And when we were finally together, well … Let’s say Christmas spirit wasn’t something the Todd family knew about.” “I’m sorry.” You said, wondering if you should hug him or at least caress his arm as a sign of comfort. “Don’t be. Plus, it’s not like I cared that much about Christmas as a kid anyway.” You could tell it was a lie, a huge bad lie only made to mask some deep-rooted wound, a lie Jason had learned by heart as if it was a mere line and had probably served to anyone around him for as long as he could remember. It wasn’t hard to guess. You just had to see how hurt he looked deep down in his beautiful tortured eyes. “I mean, there are other days to offer gifts.” “Sure.” You had a light smile and you focused again on the decoration of your tree. “But I appreciate what you’re doing, Y/N” “By what I’m doing, you mean … making you celebrate the event you hate the most without complaining?” You tried to joke. “That.” He chuckled. “And being a good friend.” A friend? Was friend really the right word? Well, maybe … in a way … or not. After all, what friends occasionally end up fucking when the sexual tension becomes too hard to handle? “I know you’re doing this because of your permanent worry about me. But you don’t need to worry. I’m fine.” “I’m sure you are.” You sighed and Jason caught your hands in his. “Hey. I’m a tough guy. I’ve got thunder thighs and sharp abs. You said it yourself”. You chuckled briefly, remembering the time when you told him this. Pretty sure you were naked and drunk by the way. “I know you’re tough Jason. Actually, you’re certainly the toughest person I know. But I’m not stupid. And I know there are things that you’re hiding from me.” He suddenly frowned and you felt his grip around your hands loosening, as if he was ready to run away from you. “And I’m not asking you to tell me what it is. I understand that you have your secrets. I do to. I just … I just want you to be honest with me, to tell me when you feel low, when you need me.” You added as you grabbed his arms to keep him close. “We’re … friends after all, aren’t we?” You hated that argument but you decided to use anyway, just to see his reaction. “Yeah. Yeah, sure.” Jason whispered after a second of heavy silence. “We’re friends.” Not the reaction you wanted. “Good.” You let go of him and went back to hanging Christmas balls but you both could feel the weird tension, the awkwardness and you couldn’t help but blame yourself for ruining that moment which had begun so well. You should have listened to Dana. “Maybe I should go.” You declared as you resigned yourself to get the hell out of here before making things worse between you two. “No!” Jason almost shouted. “No. We … Let’s finish the tree first okay? Please” You sighed. “Plus you mentioned a gift, right?” Normally that comment would have made you smirk but not today, not now. “That’s not a gift you give friends, Jason”

***

“You played the friends card? Not cool.” Jason suddenly remembered the little mental note he had left for himself the last time he had talked to Dick about his love life. ‘Never again.’ But Roy was gone and so were Artemis and Bizarro or any other friends he could have confessed to. “But we are friends.” He tried to justify himself. “I think.” Dick shook his head, slightly exasperated yet amused by his little brother. “You saying ‘I think’ makes me believe you don’t see Y/N as a friend.” “Why does it have to be so complicated?” Jason sighed as he tried to remember when was the last time he had seen you as merely a friend. “Because it’s love and nothing is ever simple when it comes to love. No need to be a relationship expert to know this.” Jason glanced at Dick who was smiling at him. “I hope you don’t consider yourself an expert considering the failure that is your love life and your on and off relationship with Babs.” Dick shrugged. Yes, apparently he was. Cocky boy wonder. “I’m expert enough to know you don’t call someone you have sex with a friend.” “Oh come on! Ever heard of friends with benefits?” Jason harrumphed, slightly annoyed by his predecessor’s judgemental attitude right now. “Jason please. You guys are not friends with benefits and you know why? Cause your relationship is not platonic at all. You like Y/N and Y/N likes you. But you are too unconfident or too scared to admit it so you end up having sex when you don’t know how to handle your feelings anymore. Now can we take care of that bunch of lousy criminals before they escape with the money?” As much as it hurt Jason to admit it, Dick was right. He liked you. He liked you a lot. Maybe he was in love with you even, he didn’t know. But what he really knew right now was that he had screwed up, bad, and that he wanted to fix things between you two.

***

You turned your key in the keyhole, exhausted by your long day at work and blaming the snow that had literally frozen your toes and fingers on your way back home. “Maybe I should ask for a ugly pair of Uggs for Christ…mas” You couldn’t move, your limbs as frozen as your fingers and toes or maybe worse. Eyes widened you looked around you and at the thousands colourful lights illuminating your entire apartment and the Christmas decorations scattered all over the furniture. “What the hell happened here?” “Do you like it?” You yelled and jumped and, out of pure reflex and fear, punched hard the person standing right behind you before you could realise it was actually Jason. “Oh my god, Jay.” He groaned and put a hand over his nose to calm the pain. “Damn. I think you broke it.” “Let me see.” You tried to remove his hand from his face to see how badly injured he was. “No! Don’t touch it. Don’t touch it.” He cried out as a sign of protest but eventually let you take him inside right to your couch where you left him an instant to go fetch some ice in the freezer. “What are you doing here that late?” You asked as you came back to sit by his side. “I wanted to surprise you. I guess it worked.” He hissed as you finally put the small bag of ice against his nose. “You did this?” You asked as you looked again around you. There were probably at least dozens of flickering string lights hanging from the ceiling above your head as well as fake snow all over the floor of the living room and miniature Christmas trees and other lovely decorations carefully placed on the furniture. “Yeah.” “How? When?” You couldn’t believe he had done this. “This afternoon while you were gone. I entered by the window. You know you should check if they’re close before leaving.” You smile when you understood the nod to what you had told him last you saw each other. “Why?” “ Well. Because it’s dangerous of course. I mean a lunatic could enter and turn your place into a Christmas shop. Oops too late.” “ No, I mean. Why did you do this?” You asked again, not really in the mood to laugh at his joke right now. “It’s Christmas, isn’t it? … And I like you” He said while looking at you right in the eye. “And not as a friend. Cause clearly we’re not friends and we’re not …” You dropped the bag of ice to catch Jason by the neck and kiss him passionately. How long have you waited for him to finally say it. “Ow. Ow. Easy.” Jason complained right against your lips when your nose pressed too hard against his. “Sorry.” You whispered with a smile. “Don’t smile at my pain. I’m really hurt.” “Aren’t you a tough guy?” You teased, using his own arguments against him. “Not when I’m with you.” He confessed and approached your face again, slowly and carefully, to kiss your soft lips with a delicacy that made you shiver. “There are so many things I want to tell you, Y/N.” “ Then say them.” You whispered still close to his face, feeling his hot breath against your skin. “It would ruin Christmas’ spirit.” “I thought you didn’t like Christmas.” “I lied.”

#Jason Todd #red hood #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #dick grayson #nightwing #dana harlowe #bat-christmas #one shot #jason todd one shot

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just-another-ficwriter · 4 years ago

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Holidate - Part One

Pairing: Sweet Pea x Reader

Words: 3000ish

Warnings: Overbearing parents, alcohol

Summary: Tired of being alone on holidays, Sweet Pea and Y/N decide to be each other’s plationic plus-ones all year round. What could go wrong?

Notes: I’m super late posting this and I feel awful about it!! I just couldn’t decide how I wanted it to go and ended up rewriting it three times🤦🏻‍♀️

“No Mom.” Y/N pinches the bridge of her nose, irritation seeping into her words. There’s already a dull ache drumming behind her temples and she hasn’t even made it home yet. “I’m not using this as an excuse because I’m running late.”

“Well I simply can’t just drop everything and come get you, I’ve got to stuff the Turkey and cut the vegetables and-“ She lets her Mother’s voice drowned out into background noise with a frustrated sigh on her end.

She hates Christmas, she thinks. Hates the decorations, the songs, the cheer. Every last bit. Nothing’s been the same since the truth came out about Hal and-

“Is Jug there?” She cuts her own thoughts short, desperate not to think of her Dad and all the things he’s done right now.

“Of course Forsyth is here!” Y/N can almost see Jug flinch at the correction and bites back a laugh. “But him and Betty have already opened a bottle of wine.”

“Can you just ask him for the number of his Dad’s garage please?” Another five minutes of Alice rambling on passes before Jughead’s voice appears on the other end with a joyful ‘Merry Christmas’ and a direct contact to someone who might be able to help.

She thanks him quickly, hanging up before she can even finish saying goodbye, so he doesn’t have a chance to hand the phone back. And as she leans against the car behind her, the same car that had given up on her just as she passed the town sign, she dials the number and hopes she’ll make it home in time for dinner.

Otherwise, she might never hear the end of it.

“Again, in English?” Y/N cocks an eyebrow at him, the string of words he’d just said sounding almost foreign in her head.

She doesn’t mean for it to sound as rude as it does, but she can’t help it. She’s tired, exhausted even, not to mention cold. The snow fall had picked up five minutes after she’d called the number Jug had given her and it had taken him, or Sweet Pea as he’d introduced himself, almost 40 minutes to reach her.

But he just laughs it off, smirks before firing it straight back at her. “You aren’t getting anywhere in this car, anytime soon princess.”

“Great!” It’s official. Her mom’s going to kill her and she’ll be blamed for ruining Christmas. She throws her hands up in defeat, kicking a tyre in the process. “Just great!”

“If it makes you feel better, this isn’t how I planned on spending my Christmas Eve either.” He watches her amused, another laugh passing his lips before the sarcastic remark follows, his arms now crossed over his chest and she almost feels guilty.

“I’m sorry for being such an inconvenience.” She throws a false apology at him along with a fake grin that falls into a frown almost immediately.

“Apology accepted.” She’s scowling at him now, eyes rolling back but he simply ignores it, happy to keep winding her up. “Want me to give you a ride somewhere while I tow this back?”

“Only on one condition.” She points a finger over her shoulder towards his trunk, the radio still on loud. “We find a station that isn’t playing Christmas music.”

“Hey, it’s either Mariah Carey, or you walk Sweetheart.” He shrugs, walking backwards, watching her make the choice.

He can’t help but laugh again when she sighs and runs to the passenger seat, desperate to seek shelter from the snow.

10 minutes after Sweet Pea kindly drops her off at her childhood home, Y/N finds herself still on the porch out front, mentally preparing herself for what’s about to come.

She sucks in a breath. Two, three. And with a fake smile so sickly sweet it makes her stomach hurt; she lets herself in.

Polly’s the first to spot her, catches her the minute she walks through the door and pulls her into a hug before she can even drop her bags. She can’t help but sink into the embrace, it’s always nice to see her older sister alone like this, but Y/N doesn’t even get the chance to ask her how she is before the twins descend down the stairs and push past them in a blur.

“Juniper put the presents down- Dagwood no!” She feels Polly gently squeeze her hand in a silent way of saying they’ll catch up later before she’s chasing after them, joining an exhausted looking Jason who pauses long enough to wave a quick hello before he resumes pursuit.

She moves further into the house, away from the chaos of the living room and towards the interesting smells wafting from the kitchen. It’s impossible not to hear her Mother barking orders from where she stands over the stove, while Jug and Betty listen to every word, working on the dining table and it’s fixtures like a well-oiled machine.

“Y/N/N you’re here!” Betty looks up with a soft smile but doesn’t dare move from her task and face the wrath of Alice Cooper.

“Finally!” It’s Alice’s turn to look at her now, a perfectly shaped eyebrow arching in distaste as her eyes roam over her middle daughter. “Please tell me you aren’t wearing that to dinner?”

Y/N lets out a breath she didn’t realise she was holding and prepares to fire back when a gentle arm lands around her shoulder with a calming chuckle.

“Oh come on Mom, Y/N looks fine.” Charles plants a quick kiss to her forehead before ruffling her hair and they both laugh. Her brother had always been her saving grace in situations like this, the only one brave enough to stand up for himself and the others, ever the mediator. But not even he was enough to put Alice off her persistent questioning, she was already sick of her Mother’s judgement and they hadn’t even touched on her job or her relationship status yet.

“You’ve definitely told them we aren’t officially together, right?” Sweet Pea takes one last, slow drag of his cigarette before stomping it out under his boot. Josie nods at him reassuringly but one look up at the exterior of her parents house has his stomach in knots. “They know we’re just casual?”

“Sweet Pea would you stop?” She playfully pokes at his ribs, but he just sighs and rubs a nervous hand down his face.

He couldn’t help it, that sick feeling rising from the pit of stomach by the second. The idea of spending Christmas with Josie’s family, a girl he’d only been dating for a month, was absolutely terrifying on all levels. But Fangs had ditched him to spend the holidays with his boyfriend in New York, not that he could really blame him, and he had no other family in town so when she originally offered, he’d jumped at the chance of not spending the day alone.

Part of him had regretted it since.

If Sweet Pea thought the outside of house was impressive, with it’s perfectly placed lights and overly decorated windows, it was nothing compared to what was waiting for him on the inside.

Myles and Sierra McCoy welcome them at the front door with bright smiles and open arms that engulf Sweet Pea before he even has the chance to say hello.

Josie joins in, the four of them becoming one big, massive group hug like he’s been part of their family his whole life and not just a stranger potentially only passing through. All three of them squeal in excitement before someone yanks him in doors.

If he had doubts before, he thinks, he’s almost certain he’s in over his head now.

Betty gets engaged on Christmas Morning.

Right in front of the Christmas tree, just after the last presents are opened and the twins are happily distracted by a mountain of toys; Jughead drops to one knee and pops the question under twinkling lights.

The minute Betty gasps the word ‘yes’ the family erupts in cheers, fawning over the couple. Of course Alice is already crying, Polly demands to see the ring, while Charles and Jason pat Jug on the back.

Y/N however stays put, her eyes falling down into her mug of spiked coffee that her mom had scolded her over, eyebrows raised over the rim as she knocks it back.

“Aren’t you going to congratulate your sister?” Alice sends her a pointed look, catching her before she can slope off into the peaceful confines of the kitchen.

“Congrats Betts.” She pulls her into a hug and paints on the biggest smile she can muster as she mumbles into her hair. “I’m so happy for you.”

And she is. Her sisters getting everything she’s dreamed of with Jug, of course she’s happy, but it’s hard to ignore the fact that her younger sister will be married before her.

Even Charles has betrayed her this year and invited a date to Christmas dinner leaving her the last single Cooper. And her mom wasn’t prepared to let her forget it anytime soon.

Sweet Pea successfully manages to make it through family movie night, forcefully sat between Josie and her mother, hot cocoa in hand and surrounded from all sides. He even grins and bares the series of photo albums that follow, another embarrassing photo of Josie lurking behind every page turn, but he draws the line when the marriage talk starts, declaring he’s suddenly tired and turns to run up the stairs so fast he’s surprised he doesn’t pull something on the way.

Sienna wakes them up on Christmas morning with a soft knock at 8am sharp, wearing a bright red Christmas jumper and holding two more for the both them.

The mere idea of it makes Sweet Pea’s skin itch as much as the material does once he begrudgingly pulls it over his head.

The rest of the morning is spent sipping coffee, watching the three McCoy’s exchanging gifts. He’s too distracted, wondering if it’s still too late to find a way out of the whole thing to even notice Josie standing in front of him until she’s shoved the present right under his nose.

“Merry Christmas my love.” She places it down on his lap and Sweet Pea finds himself wanting the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

“Jose I… I thought we said we weren’t doing gifts?” All three pairs of eyes are now on him, burning their way into his skin and he’s sure he’s never felt embarrassment like it.

“But that was just a joke, right?” He smiles awkwardly when she laughs, but the sound is humourless, and he can already see the anger bubbling behind her eyes. She doesn’t even give him the chance to reply. “What, so I’m good enough to sleep with but you can’t buy me a gift?”

He chokes, shocked by her transparency around her parents while his cheeks redden by the second.

Ten minutes later he’s out on the drive, bags thrown in the back of his truck, scrambling to get away as fast as he can.

Christmas Day ends the way it started.

Miserably sat at the kitchen table, sipping on something alcoholic held in her hand.

Polly and Jason had slipped off not long after dinner, taking two sugar high kids and all their loud noises with them. Betty and Jug now sit on one couch, his arms wrapped around her shoulders, her head resting on her chest, content in their own bubble of love while Alice sits on the other, quizzing Kevin Keller, Charles’ surprise date. She’d feel bad for him if she wasn’t already feeling relieved that her Mother’s attention had turned to someone else for five minutes. Her brother sits besides her, topping up a glass of red.

“He seems nice.” Charles hums in response, biting back a laugh. Was she missing a joke? “What?”

“If I tell you something, you can’t tell the others.” A quick eager nod and she’s shuffling closer so he can whisper his secret. “Kev’s just my Holidate.”

She blinks back in shock. “Holidate?”

“Just a date for the holiday, someone to keep Mom off my back.” He shrugs like it’s nothing, like it’s the simplest solution to the problem. He sips his wine while he waits for her to process it. “There’s no strings attached and I don’t have to spend events alone. I’m even heading down to his parents after New Years to return the favour.”

“Thats...” Y/N breathes out, she’s a little envious she hadn’t thought of it herself. “What an idea.”

Y/N sinks into a booth at Pop’s Chocklit Shoppe two days later with a sigh of relief, happy to welcome the peace that comes with being away from her family.

She loves them, her siblings, her mother, the twins, of course but it’s exhausting. The intruding questions, the never ending merry go round of pity and interfering. She knows deep down it’s only because they care, but sometimes she wished they’d just leave her alone.

Pops promptly brings her order of curly fries over, with a soft smile and an extra chocolate shake on the side she didn’t order. It’s been two years since she last stepped into the place, yet he still remembers her favourite like it was yesterday.

“It’s good to see you Y/N.” There’s something in his tone that just feels like home and she finds herself welcoming it, it’s been a long time since anything in Riverdale has felt anything close to that, not since the truth about her dad.

Pops doesn’t stick around, a light pat to her shoulder before he’s a retreating form, leaving her to her thoughts. She barely makes it through a fry before someone’s sliding in opposite her.

Sweet Pea pushes the key across the table, grinning cheekily as he helps himself to the basket in front of him. She barely knows him and he’s already stealing her food. “One fully functional car.”

“Finally!” She snatched them up, hiding them

in her bag and he can see the tension practically melting from her shoulders. “Now I can get out of the hell hole.”

“Christmas went that well? He asks, curiosity peaked.

“You could say that.” She presses herself further into her seat, huffing as she rubs the palm of her hands against her jeans. The anxious look in her eyes tells him that what ever she might say next won’t necessarily make sense and she’s a little embarrassed by it. “My sister got engaged.”

“To FPS son right?” He vaguely recalls his boss proudly telling anyone who would listen that morning. “And that’s a bad thing?”

“She’s my younger sister, and now, as I’m about to be the only official unmarried Cooper daughter my mom has even more of an excuse to interfere in my love life.” The words just slip out and she finds part of her gladly confessing her thoughts to a virtual stranger instead of keeping them in. He smiles in a way that tells her he gets it.

“Yeah well, bet you a chocolate shake mine was worse.” He ignores the glare she sends him when he innocently brings her existing milkshake to his lips and continues when she says nothing. “I spent it with someone I’ve been dating for four weeks and her parents.”

She almost chokes on a curly fry. “You got serious that quick?”

“Of course not, and we both knew it.” She stares at him like he has two heads, he knows she can’t quite fit ‘causal relationship’ and ‘family Christmas’ together so he does it for her. “Didn’t want to spend the day alone so I took her up on the offer. Cue overbearing parents, the cringest matching jumpers and the ultimate gift exchange where I got her nothing because we agreed no presents.”

“Aren’t you old enough to know by now that no gifts definitely means get her a gift?” She laughs when he rolls his eyes.

“Ended with her kicking me out before dinner.” She shakes her head, laughs again as she calls him tragic and a tiny part of him agrees. “And now I’m officially dateless for New Year’s Eve.”

“Thanks for reminding me I have to come back in a few days to attend Riverdale’s Annual Blossom New Years Eve Party alone for the second year running.” She wrinkles her nose in disgusted, unprepared to have her friends on her back as well as her family, and ends up missing the way his eyebrows raise in surprise.

“You know Toni and Cheryl?”

“T’s been my best friend longer than I can remember and Cheryl’s brother is married to my sister, guess you could say I know them pretty well.” She tilts her head to the side, eying him slowly, like she suddenly sees him in a different way. “How’d you know them?”

“Guess you could say I spend more time than I should at the Wyrm.” The mention of Toni’s bar lights up her face. “Plus Toni’s been a really good friend to me since I got here, I was actually meant to be taking Josie to their party.”

“I think I know a way to solve our little problem.” A plan suddenly forms in her head, he doesn’t know whether to be worried or not as he watches the smile on her face widen. “Sweet Pea how would you like to be my Holidate this Friday?”

“Your holi-what?”

Forever Taglist: @p-marie-sp

Sweet Pea Taglist: @80sand90simagine @wildberryyyy @hopelesslylosttheway @be-gay-do-crime-cutie

Holidate Taglist: @popcrone818

#riverdale #riverdale imagine #riverdale sweet pea #riverdale fanficton #riverdale series #riverdale au #riverdale edit #riverdale one shot #sweet pea #sweet pea x reader #sweet pea riverdale #sweet pea au #sweet pea fanfiction #sweet pea imagine #sweet pea one shot #sweet pea edit #sweet pea series #holidate #Holidate au

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bbhyeoliskooks · 4 years ago

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.- : ✧ 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐈 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬 ✧ : -.

➶ TXT’s Reaction to Seeing you Excited for Christmas Like a Little Kid

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Genre: 5 cups of snowflakes and fluff~!

Warnings: None~~

(omg, watch me post every day now for christmas ?? i haven’t been working on stuff because of assignments and stuff so i’m sad, i really wanted to write a lot for the holiday this year :(( but iss okay~! We have now and hopefully you guys will like it hehe)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

. ⋅ ˚̣- Yeonjun:

*’. All year you had been begging to do so many fun activities with him for your first Christmas together as a couple

*’. Every time though, he would boop your adorable lil’ nose and say with a teasing tone, “just be patient and wait~!”

*’. But how could you be patient when the best time of the year was coming???

*’. Yeonjun knew how excited you were for this when you counted down the days starting from November, so he guessed he was really in for a ton of screaming when the first day of December came

*’. When the month of December finally arrived, you were on your toes for all of the holiday cheerings and greetings !

*’. It was just pure happiness wherever you went- you saw everyone with big smiles painted on their faces, little children running around the store to look for Santa, and especially the couples who gifted each other surprises every week

*’. Yeonjun woke up at 12am on Christmas morning because of how much you were screeching and screaming to the top of your lungs

*’. “Will you calm down for a second? We have the rest of the day to spend, but I need some sleep first.” “Jjunie, but it’s Christmas already! I just wanna-” chuuu <3

*’. When he saw the stars sparkle in your eyes, he couldn’t help but instantly pull you aside and gift you with some pretty early passionate kisses

*’. It was the least Yeonjun could do for you, really~! You’re his adowable, widdle baby of course hehe

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

. ⋅ ˚̣- Soobin:

*’. The Christmas Tree was exceptionally stunning this year ! With all of its gleaming ornaments that hadn’t broken down from the past few years, it wasn’t that hard to believe

*’. It honestly was quite a journey to get the tree inside of the house, but luckily both you and Soobin were able to scuffle enough with the struggle to decorate it from home

*’. Seeing how you happily placed ornament after ornament on the pine tree warmed his heart

*’. “Soobders! Doesn’t this one look so pretty?! I think we should shop for more so that I know which ones you really like.”

*’. He absolutely couldn’t say no, okay…

*’. “Ai, love. You’re the prettier one here, be quiet.”

*’. It seemed that you didn’t hear him as you gazed in wonder at your favorite one- his heart was going crazy because of it

*’. Poor him, he couldn’t concentrate on getting the task done since you were so alluring under the Christmas lights hehe

*’. And poor you, didn’t know what kind of effect you had on Soobders here !!

*’. Needless to say, you didn’t get finished decorating the Christmas tree :// but no need to worry, you couldn’t complain because Soobin flung you over his shoulder to have some cuddly times <3

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

. ⋅ ˚̣- Beomgyu:

*’. Voila! You stared at yourself in the mirror with satisfaction, adoring how gorgeous you were in your favorite winter outfit

*’. It was actually for a party, you never dressed up quite this much unless there was an important occasion.

*’. Excitement brought itself up from your jumping feet to your trembling arms… in complete realization that it was just a few hours 'till Christmas morning and you’ll definitely be the happiest person ever !

*’. Beomgyu saw how happy you were dancing around in the mirror, and just had to stop his movements- only to stare and coo at you from behind

*’. He truly couldn’t resist giving you a gift from how thrilled you were in front of him

*’. “Princess! I brought you something!”

*’. You immediately looked behind you once you heard the word ‘princess’ to see him rummage under the pocket of his suit, trying to get something from out of there

*’. He walked closer to you, snatching out a tiny box with bright, red wrapping paper on it

*’. You hurriedly opened it with just a little touch of hesitation from how happy he was to give it to you, not expecting that

*’. Oh my gosh :o!! It was the prettiest golden necklace with a letter of B on it ( )

*’. Once he said that it was something to remember him by whenever you miss him, you knew at that exact moment you were so incredibly whipped that it was laughable

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

. ⋅ ˚̣- Taehyun:

*’. Oh. No. Oh. My. Gosh. No.

*’. As much as Taehyun loved the Christmas holidays, he was NOT ready to hear that Mariah Carey song blast in his ear 24/7, especially from you who knew he absolutely despised whenever the radio played it

*’. Actually, back in June when you were getting sad about it not being winter, he made you promise you wouldn’t play this in the house, not even once

*’. Guess what

*’. You didn’t let him live one second without hearing it

*’. Who could blame you??? You were so exhilarated that the holidays had come !! Which meant so many gifts and sincere love to give to the love of your life !!

*’. He made sure to appease every single one of your efforts of playing that song by a few encouragements like cuddles or subtle kisses on your hands

*’. BUT NO, THAT DIDN’T WORK EITHER CRIIII

*’. Cue the puppy eyes he totally has no control saying no over

*’. Although… you were so cute and tiny despite your height that girlie, he fell in love with your stunning spirit over and over again ~~

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

. ⋅ ˚̣- Kai:

*’. If someone said the word Christmas from a mile away, you would sPRINT out of wherever you were, throwing hands on the streets because of the happiness that simply overwhelmed the rest of your emotions

*’. We can say that Kai hit you with his plushies to make sure you wouldn’t get away from him any longer :DD and good thing he succeeded because you were going crazy over the idea of hot chocolate with marshmallows

*’. Gifts only made your want stronger unfortunately, the need to wrap a few gifts getting on your nerves from how itching your hands were to prep up some happiness

*’. The week before Christmas, you were getting sad since you hadn’t gone shopping with Hyuka yet :((

*’. Okay, he just couldn’t say no to your cute grin when you asked him to accompany you to the stores >3< he needed to go shopping with you now~~

*’. You basically dragged him everywhere- to the Christmas tree perched in the middle of the mall to the decorations section where snowmen were singing their own merry tunes

*’. His feet and legs were aching, but hey !! You were so happy with him that he could say his body didn’t hurt one bit <333

*’. You made it up to him later by making a few cookies you knew he adored

*’. He’d return the favor- would definitely calm you down during night by singing a few Christmas carols or even putting on a movie~~

*’. Not before giving you your early Christmas gifts… which were some sweet kisses okay

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Posted: 12/18/20- 9:55pm

Tags:

#txt fluff #txt reactions #txt scenarios #txt imagines #txt drabbles #txt oneshots

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aint-a-babe · 4 years ago

Text

Caroling, Kim Seungmin.

Warnings: none, just some fluff and another confession, holiday season themed :).

Word Count: 1312.

Tags: fluff, soft, Shy!Seungmin, Pining, holiday confession.

Posted originally on my insta (@staybabe_).

A little holiday fun.