#what i got for chrismas

[atlantahammy]

Sad?! 🫵

NOT ON MY WATCH!

YOUR COOL, BEAUTIFUL, PRETTY, TALENTED, AND AMAZING PERSON!!!!!

YOUR ART IS BEAUTIFUL AND I HOPE YOU CONTINUE THAT JOURNEY

I HOPE YOUR DAY BECOMES BETTER AND BETTER

FUCK DEPRESSION, IM HERE FOR YOU

Haah thank you Diona, i'm just kinda having a moment due to being in a bit of pain, so don't worry.

[espy-heart]

I had an idea for a thing : )

[autism-corner]

wifes christmas tree.....

[megapteraurelia]

dad!toji who brings megumi to the dentist because his tooth hurts, looking like a troublemaker with his leather jacket and the scar inside the colourful waiting room, brimming with children. some of the parents send him judging glances, but toji pays them no mind, because what does he care what those random ass people think?

megumi who eyes the children, but refuses to get up; his shoulders drawn up, hands balled into tiny fists on his knees. his small form looks like he's drowning in the big chair.

"ya don't wanna play?"

megumi shakes his head, and toji shrugs, taking his answer as it is.

dad!toji who gets up and waits for megumi to hop down the adult chair when they're called in, walking a couple steps behind. he does not let his eyes focus on the assistant's ass in those scrubs, definitely not. but it's not like it really is his fault; it's inviting him to look, after all.

the assistant offers megumi to sit on the chair, but his kid refuses to.

"c'mon," he tries to coax him, voice gruff, but megumi has none of it, stubbornly staring at the floor, so toji truly has no other choice but to sit on the patient's chair himself, big hand patting his thigh, "or i might jus' forget to tell santa to give you chrismas presents this year."

"santa doesn't exist, anyway," megumi mumbles, but heaves himself up on toji's legs. he thinks his kid's a little shit for pointing that out.

the assistant hesitates for a second, but toji raises his eyebrows, a slight twitch of impatience in the dark feature, "don't pretend ya won't be able to check his teeth like that. hurry, or else he chickens out again."

"i don't chicken out," megumi's eyebrows draw together and he attempts the same eyebrow raise back at his father, "i carefully calculate."

before toji can issue a retort to his smartmouthed kid, the door opens again and you enter, bringing with you soft lilac scrubs and a brilliant smile.

"hi megumi, long time no see! you still the spelling bee champ from last year?"

and just like that, megumi opens up.

dad!toji who thinks you know how to talk to his son, who watches you patiently explain your instruments and showcase to him how they don't hurt on your hand and megumi's own hand as well.

who includes him in your storytelling of how there are villains residing in his mouth called karius and baktus who hurt his teeth and who only he can defeat by opening wiiiiiide and— well done, gumi-chan! look, they're trying to flee but we won't let them, right?

toji thinks that story makes no sense. a ghost gun with a silencer would probably be more effective, but you look at him with a stern expression to urge him to play along, and suddenly he feels like he's being scolded.

and for the record, he is far too old to be scolded by his child's dentist.

still, the way your eyes light up taking care of megumi and make him feel safe when he was anxious and scared, has him approve of your antics a little. because there's his little runt, who nods vigorously after you clean out his cavity, whom you allow plenty of time in between the steps to satisfy his skeptical mind.

dad!toji who thinks waiting another six months is maybe too long a time until he got to see you again.

who smirks and rubs his jaw when you squint your eyes at him, smile sweetly and dismiss his inquiry for your contact information with biting words to take care of his kid's teeth better.

[autisthc]

sometimes i think back to my last roommate situation and i just……. like rich ppl are so wild its on another level. like everything about pretending to be poor and needing to control the ppl around them is so true it makes me really sad. idk man i wanted to believe it would work out and that they were ~ different ~ but the longer im living on my own the more i reflect upon how genuinely dystopian it all is,,, the people with the most opportunity and influence really squander it bc they dont view anyone as of consequence as their are, theyre so held back by their individualism its maddening

[little-jana]

"Under The Mistletoe"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: kissing, just two cuties

Words: 1.2k

Summary: Another Mistletoe kiss with Spencer.

a/n: I just love love love these chrismas ff with Spencer. What do u think?

The BAU’s Christmas party was winding down, but the bullpen still sparkled with warm, holiday cheer. Twinkling fairy lights wrapped around the desks, Penelope’s carefully curated playlist hummed in the background, and the scent of cinnamon and pine filled the air. I stood by the snack table, munching on a sugar cookie, my eyes wandering to Spencer Reid.

He was sitting near the bookshelf, his legs crossed awkwardly, a mug of eggnog in one hand and a book resting in the other. He wasn’t reading, though. His gaze flicked up every few seconds, catching mine before darting back down.

“Why don’t you go talk to him?” JJ teased as she passed by, balancing her own plate of cookies.

“I talk to him all the time,” I said, feigning indifference.

JJ just gave me a knowing smile. “Sure you do.”

She wasn’t wrong, though. I did talk to Spencer all the time. I was one of the few people he seemed comfortable enough to really open up to, and our conversations were some of the highlights of my day. But tonight, under the glow of Christmas lights, something felt… different.

I crossed the room, weaving through clusters of my teammates, until I reached his corner. He looked up, startled, when I sat down next to him.

“Hey,” I said, smiling.

“Hey,” he replied, setting his mug down. “Enjoying the party?”

“Yeah,” I said, leaning back against the wall. “You?”

“It’s nice,” he said, his voice soft. “A little overwhelming, but nice.”

I nodded, understanding completely. “I saw you reading earlier. What is it this time? Something festive?”

He hesitated, glancing at the book before sliding it toward me. It was a leather-bound copy of A Christmas Carol.

“Classic,” I said, impressed.

“It’s one of my favorites,” he admitted. “There’s something timeless about it—Scrooge’s transformation, the idea that it’s never too late to change.”

“Leave it to you to find the deeper meaning in a Christmas story,” I teased.

Spencer smiled, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “It’s a good story.”

“It is,” I agreed. “But you know, you’ve been staring at that same page for the past ten minutes.”

His cheeks flushed, and he quickly closed the book. “I, uh… I got distracted.”

“By what?” I asked, leaning forward, curious.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, avoiding my gaze.

“Spencer,” I said, my tone teasing. “You’re the worst liar I’ve ever met.”

He groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, fine. I might have been… looking at you.”

That caught me off guard. “Me?”

He nodded, his face growing redder by the second. “You just… you look really nice tonight.”

I blinked, my heart skipping a beat. Spencer Reid, the man who could rattle off statistics about anything and everything, was suddenly flustered.

“Thank you,” I said softly, my own cheeks warming. “You look nice too.”

Before he could respond, Penelope’s voice rang out across the room.

“Attention, everyone!” she called, clapping her hands. “It’s time for our favorite holiday tradition—mistletoe!”

The room erupted into cheers and groans as Penelope grabbed her sprig of mistletoe and started weaving her way through the crowd, stopping pairs and insisting they partake in the tradition.

“Oh, no,” Spencer muttered, sinking deeper into his chair.

“Oh, yes,” I said, grinning. “You’re not getting out of this one, genius.”

“I don’t see why mistletoe is such a big deal,” he said, his voice rising slightly. “Did you know it’s actually a parasitic plant? It attaches itself to a host tree and siphons off nutrients to survive.”

“You really know how to kill the mood, don’t you?” I teased.

Spencer opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Penelope appeared beside us, brandishing the mistletoe like a weapon.

“Well, well, well,” she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “What do we have here? My two favorite geniuses hiding in the corner?”

“We’re not hiding,” I said quickly.

“Uh-huh,” Penelope said, clearly unconvinced. She dangled the mistletoe above our heads. “Rules are rules, my friends.”

Spencer groaned softly, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re not getting out of this one, Spence,” I said, leaning closer.

He hesitated, his eyes searching mine. “You know,” he said quietly, “hands actually transfer more germs than mouths. Statistically, this is the safer option.”

I raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Is that your way of saying you want to kiss me?”

“I—well—I didn’t mean—”

“Spencer,” I said, cutting him off. “Relax. It’s just a kiss.”

And before he could overthink it, I leaned in, pressing my lips softly against his.

The room seemed to fade away, the laughter and music melting into the background. His lips were warm, tentative at first, but as he relaxed, the kiss deepened just slightly, a perfect mix of sweetness and surprise.

When we finally pulled back, his eyes were wide, his cheeks flushed.

“That… wasn’t so bad,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“No,” I agreed, smiling. “It wasn’t.”

Penelope clapped her hands, breaking the spell. “That was adorable!”

Spencer groaned again, burying his face in his hands, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Come on, genius,” I said, nudging him playfully. “Let’s go find some more eggnog.”

As we walked back toward the party, I couldn’t stop smiling. Maybe mistletoe wasn’t so bad after all.

[deesseshesca]

PAC : Letter from your pregnant self (HIS POV) 18+

I got beef with men but ... what else is new ?

PERSONAL READING (SALE) (LINK)

FIRE TO THE MOON

FUTURE LOVE + SEX DOUALA = 40$ (2for1)

DOWN TO MY CORE

CHARACTER UPDAPTE + LORE DUMP = 40$ (2for1)

PILE 1

MY BEEF...any way thank you so much for coming through. Girl you better like it, he got me working fucking overtime. Actually all of them did ...

(LINK TO YOUR READING ... YES IT IS FREE AND ON TUMBLR ... MERRY CHRISMAS)

PILE 2 

Both of y’all are only child that were raised to be anxious over achiever. Parents are never there. I keep hearing : ‘’Super rich kids with nothing but loose ends. Super rich with nothing but fake friends…’’

Letter suppose to be for you but instead he wrote it for your baby.

Dear Lucetta (Various ethereal ‘’L’’ name came through. Other name that came through : Lysandra, Lysianne and Lucretia) 

Daddy messed up (This man is bawling. I mean breakdown and everything. He tries to be strong but for the sec that he admits that, tears are overflowing. If he was actually writing the letter they would be teardrop on the letter). Daddy is nothing but an asshole. I should not write this right … Your mama is going to get mad when she realizes how I butcher your vocabulary (yellow laugh ( french : rire jaune) … idk how to explain it in english). Fuck … You deserve a fucking good letter. That’s the least I can fucking do … yeah that’s the least I can do. Mama decorate your room like the royalty you are meant to be. The tapestry tailored in Spain in an accent of gold and soft pink are all over the walls. Made sure to ask the maid to polish the wooden floor until she can see herself in it. She actually sent me in here to check the oxygen cleanliness of your room. First wtf is air cleanliness. Second when the fuck did they created a damm machine for that shit. Lastly, you are not even there … Sorry baby … I love you more than anything but your mama is gone mad with the way she’s preparing for you. I never understood when  my poor friends complain about rich people's spending habits.  Now I am standing in the room section reserved for your room oxygen. I can help but run a hand in my hair and agree. (Another yellow laugh (rire jaune) before falling down on his knees and crying. Give him a couple minute y’all he needs to catch his breath … ) You're going to cost me so much baby. I never care for my trust fund, finances or even money but I am asking the family accountant to come to me first thing in the morning for the 4th this month. I hope I have enough money ( and for some of y’all … gold … liquid gold …iykyk). I know Mr. (His dad's name) has enough money in the bank but maybe is not enough. Maybe you need more than the couple millions we have. Maybe you need more than the properties we own. Maybe you need fucking more than an oxygen regulator machine. Maybe you need a whole lung doctor. Yes… you  need a nutritionist, a child psychologist … Does the baby have a tutor ? Fuck you need it. Baby just said and daddy will get it. You understand everything you want daddy get. You want a hug, a kiss, for me to count all the stars in the sky to describe how much he loves … done. You need me to buy the moon for you … done. You need me to resurrect  Leonardo Devinci so he can paint you in all your glory … done. There’s nothing I would not give to you but the thing that makes my heart ache is the way I crave intimacy with you. Can’t wait to hold you in my hands. Can’t wait to touch your littles toes. Can’t wait to see your lips pout like your mama when she is done with my mess. Can’t wait to see you grow. I promise princess I will never make second ever again. I will go to every parent meeting at school, bringing you to all your ballet, opera, harp, fencing, horse ridding whatever fucking classes your mom has for you; I will never miss your school competition and I will listen to all your house show you will produce to show yourself off. I don’t care if I am in a meeting, I will always have time for you. I will always have time to remind you how much I love you, how pretty you are, how much you matter and how much of a blessing you are just because you are. Yes… just because is you,  baby. Forgive daddy please. I know I am not in a position to ask you for anything especially after giving up on you for so long but if you don’t make it out of the NICU … mommy may never make it out. We both made her suffer enough. 

Please baby (damm he's whimpering in pain, choking on tears) stay with us. 

YOUR DADDY. 

Don’t worry you are not dead or close to it ( in the physical form at least …), you are being monitored at the hospital. I am getting traumatic labor (I should do a PAC about it) not because of pain but because of blood. You may have not lost your water but blood. I see you laughing at some joke the father of your baby did. Not a single care in the world. Girl your hair is perfect, if you have a Dyson and are working to perfect your blowout … just so you know you are the blowout queen in a couple years. Skin glowing, you look so pretty pregnant. That baby was really the blessing that changed your life forever. You are wearing a 2 piece white set … boom blood. You touch and look at your man. I keep hearing : ‘’ nononono … that can’t be it. (HIS NAME !) It can’t be … my baby. 

This whole letter  has nothing to do with the cards so let’s dive … shall we ? (Intuition took over …)

First you guys were both extremely hardworking workers. Never had time ( and also if I may … never learn ) to create deep bonds. I see both people living in their own penthouse. Yours has more of a Victorian look and his is more modern. You may have a white cat. 

You met at the work gala. I see 2 people look at each and accept y’all fate. 

You start fucking. The deal was perfect. He needed a woman that was not going to get attached to his riches. You needed a man that’s not trying to fix your cold heart. 

I see y’all literally planning to have sex like it’s a meeting … I think y’all use it to blow some steam annoyed by your empty life, useless parents and annoying coworkers. 

At first just fucking, no aftercare, clothe back on and on the go. Then he cracks a joke and you giggle which makes you stay 5 minutes longer. Then he charms you while cooking dinner for you before you leave. Then you spend more and more time together… Now he grabs you a snack and y’all always watch a kid show. He complains about how dumb the character is but you enjoy the deep dive he’s doing without even realizing it. 

You are not wrong, there's a lot of things he doesn't realize. He doesn't realize how much he craves connection. He doesn't realize how much he craves intimacy with you. When asked why ? Is it because you allow him to be ( do you realize the synchrony with the letter … anyway sometime my psychic surprise me 2 girl) 

You took the pregnancy test together and he joke on the fact it was getting terminated and not to stress so much but a light a hope awaken in your  heart for the first in soooo fucking long but you brush it off and went on the same page as him. Not because of him but because ‘’ you the fuck has time for a kid anyway’’ (your word not mine). 

Then you heard the baby's heartbeat and you cut all contact with him. Someday at the beginning of your second trimester you text him paragraphs upon paragraph on how you kept the baby, how it was never to hurt him, but for the first time in your life you felt hope and it felt like you needed to hold on to it. That you don’t know how but you are going to make it. 

He will villainize you and block you. One of your close friend is going to send them drunk voice memo in the middle of the third semester announcing him is a girl between cursing the fuck out. WAKE UP CALL FOR MISTER. 

He comes back the same day you threw your private luxurious baby shower. 

Some of y’all are Italian 

He has a no relationship with his parents and refuses 2. Calling them by their first name while you still seek love from them. 

PREVIOUS READING

2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)

3) For ALL DECEMBER get 2 readings for the price of 1 : LINK

PILE 3

Dear Red (y’all call each other by colors so anything can fit, just took that one because it came through first) , 

You are resplendent. I know you think I am exaggerating. Or maybe you think I am only talking this sweet because everything is new ( I just heard : ‘’ The talk is cheap …’’ Lol this one is sassy) but baby I can put my hand the fire that I would still go that hard for you in 30 years when you boobs going to sag, your face will wrinkles from all the time I am going to make you laugh and you have grey hair just like mine ( You : YAH! Stop that in 30 years we are not going to be this old … you dumb fuck. I swear too God this fucking skincare better work. You better stop being goofy .. I want to be a MILF. You know, that is one of my life goals … GIRL YOU BETTER TELL HIM; Me: (choking on my laugh) Now… Why am I getting yelled at ?). Can’t never forget when I saw your sexy ass that day at the beach. I did not think … yeah I can’t wait to fuck it and make her yell my name (ok can’t lie it was my very next thought) nahhh, baby I was hook by the way the sun was making your skin glow. The tattoo on your body is a telling story before my eyes but you know I never wear my damm glasses so I could not read it. Anyway the way your hair flows gracefully with the wind, the way your eyes light up basking in the sun. I knew I had to get a lil mama number. When I first hear your voice … it made me breathless (should have asked for your asthma pump but I did not know you like that at that time but that shows you how much I was starstruck … Almost I had my first asthma attack- You: BABY stop telling my damm business to this lady). Your words, your tone, the way you move with so much elegance … I just knew I hit the jackpot. I would be damm to let you go. I am so proud of having you as mine. I love spending time with you, I love spending money on you, I love kissing you, I love leaving hickeys on you, I love holding your hands, I love texting you, I love making stupid edits of us (Me : the 2014 couple edit … girl … I can’t … you boy is making me cry of laughter). I know everything happens so quickly but you know how you explain me that life is like a book with crystals and your cards with little drawing on it, ( Me : Byeeee I can't, he is trying to explain crystals and tarot cards; Him: Honestly I don’t know about all that … I love hearing her talk about it. I love hearing her talk when she’s excited. I love her voice. The perfect candidate for yap session) anyway my inner child feels so safe and alive with you. I know you feel the same baby girl. Everything is working so effortlessly that must mean we are manifesting something good ( Me : LOL ! He’s talking about the law of attraction). My mom did not even get mad when I announced to her that I got you pregnant (You : Duh she loves me stoopid). You parents loved the fact that we found each other and your dad is as eager as me to formalize our union. Honestly I would marry you anywhere at any time. I told  you from the beginning that you will be my wife and I meant it but I know you want something bigger and so  it’s going to have to wait. That doesn't mean I can’t surprise you with an engagement ring. Standing here with a small group of men allowed to the baby shower, I can’t help but look at you. Your skin tight black dress exposing your full breast and the slide on it showing off your thick thighs. The smile on your face while you act ratchet with your friends ( Him: Damm babe I did not know you could still throw it in a circle 8 months pregnant … you better not say you are tired tonight. I got a plan for both of us) letting yourself go not a single care in the world. This is how I want you to be forever. Not a single care in the world, always full of joy and love and helping you achieve all your goals. Baby I know, it was quick but I swear it is only the beginning of the most beautiful love story. I am going to work hard until my last breath to keep the spark going. 

YOUR ONE AND ONLY MAN 

HIM 

Again wtf is wrong with those men. At first they did not want to work with me … now they are good ? To the point of making me over work …smh.

Yes, you guess it … it was an intuitive letter now let’s get into the card. 

First I am getting PLUS SIZE ! Yes, very thick and curvy women.  Now I understand why I wanted to write a bigger butt earlier … your man loves the curves baby. That’s does not mean is a fucking fetiche. Like if it is affecting health is going to ask you to fix it. News flash loser fat people can have an active life and still be fat. He never forces you to achieve any kind of weird kink. 

Y’all may be giving yourself too easily to men. I am getting that since they only see you for your body. You prefer existing than being invisible (like when you were child, some of y'all have been big since childhood. You were not really bullied but very ignored. People were ashamed to associate with you). Right now I see you are at the beginning of your elf love journey. You are making healthy food choices, spending time mastering a hobby : crystal, tarot, knitting or some other heels dancing. YOU GO GIRL ! Regarding men you still give yourself easily, some even tell you they don’t like you. They just fuck you because you are easy. You accept it and let them take you to pound town anyway. 

This man is going to help you tremendously in your self love journey … you have no fucking idea. You are going to glow more, stop eating your feelings, love yourself, have boundaries with your environment ( idk when the world decides that we have to give less respect to rounder people but anyways …), you will dress more provocatively and wear way more colors. Speak your mind more and be confident in yourself. 

Baby say goodbye to boring sex and say hello to sex toys. Rejoice, babe rejoice you deserve it. Let me tell you something he is pleasure dom … Girl he's going to make you orgasm like it is a damm sport. You better hold on because the night is going to be long. Pussy swollen from overstimulation, ass hurting from spanking and hickeys everywhere. Not him having the audacity to ask you to ride him after all that … anyways chile let me go. 

He gets so hard whenever you talk about spirituality. If you are witch prank by performing some sex magick on him, this man would be sooo proud to be your little helper while you are doing some spell.

PREVIOUS READING

2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)

3) For ALL DECEMBER get 2 readings for the price of 1 : LINK

PILE 4 

Judgement (reverse), King pentacles, 4 wands (reverse), page of cups (reverse) 

I put the card because I want to show that I actually try to do the reading at first but the energy aint it. Somebody had an awful pregnancy especially because of an awful baby daddy. Like he dragged you to the filth, made you cry and cheated on you. Even gave you an STD for some of y’all. Since than he calm the fuck down. He tries to come through like a nicer person  but he made sure to make me understand he doesn't love you so I don't want him. I ain't wasting my time for something he can text. Then his younger self came through … boy bye with your filthy energy. 

So I kept trying because I had to feed you guys … Then your future husband came through but you were still not pregnant so … it was kind of useless for me … But then I understood that y’all are actively trying and that's good enough for me. 

No cards … straight intuition ( I don’t  want this filthy energy to come through again) 

Dear Малышка, Солнышко, Киса (ain't going to lie … I google the most popular and line it up. He ain't going to call you all that. Also I am really getting eastern Europe and I know they all have their own language but most of them somehow got colonized by Russia in some way shape or form. But if he’s from Poland then he will use his language. He’s from Lithuania, he will use his language … You catch the drift) 

(before we get into anything … thick, thick accent), fuck I want you. I need you. Like all the time. You ain’t make it easy for me Малышка. One day you welcome me home with a long white robe, hair in a perfect intricate bun and makeup a bit oily. That's how I know our kid did not let you rest. You only had  time to take away your clothes before you had to jump in mommy mode. Other times you tease me by sending me pictures of the lingerie and perfume you are wearing. Swear I hate the fact that I start work so early and finish so late. Oh let me not forget when you took a picture with my computer of you in your favorite brown set. The number of times you give me a blue ball should be illegal. Don’t even get me started when we were invited to the gala, you look so breathtaking … anyways you already know all that. Being a man's desire never was a foreign concept but being in love was one I had to teach you. Every day I rejoice with the idea of spending a whole lifetime loving you and our little bundle of energy. She/He never stops … just like her/his mommy. It took me a while to win over her/his heart. She/He is so protective of your heart. Almost as if he/she everyone in your heart aches when carrying him/her. That’s ok now we are 2 trying to protect you, can’t wait to be 3 humans to love on you. Until then here is the money for the new makeup you wanted to try. 

Love you Малышка. 

LOL ! I swear your future man has some sense of humor. I said the other one he could text you is lame nice word this one came through as a text. 

Also some of you may think he is super old … nah he is around your age. Babe get out the damn book there’s handsome Slavic men your age range in the real world. 

Anyways this man has tattoos and loves metal and goth music. He has moneyyy. I just don’t know the capacity but enough to put you in a luxurious condo and fund your influencer career. 

Lol … I see some of y’all cringing. I don’t think you will do couple content, actually you keep your life extremely private … The only thing people know is the diamond on your finger. I am getting more skincare and makeup content creators. You have a boudoir (beauty room/content room) that’s all we see. When I channeled him, I saw you receiving his message while getting ready to film some content. At that time in your life you are still juggling a 9to5. I mean girl, you are doing it all ! Mommy, corporate baddie, content creator and trophy wife. 

He has a rather dark aesthetic unlike you. You have a quite cute, pink aesthetic but love hardcore metal and goth. 

He came through while I played my NIRVANA playlist.

PREVIOUS READING

2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)

3) For ALL DECEMBER get 2 readings for the price of 1 : LINK

[aventurineswife]

Okay, hear me out... AE!Sunday celebrating christmas wth reader on the Express and neither of them have any idea what christmas is bcuz it's just not a thing where they're from😭

(Oh yes, a chrismas req when it's almost february and this probably won't even be out before like the end of feb💀)

No Footprints in the Snow

Summary: Neither you nor Sunday have any idea what Christmas is, but that doesn’t stop you from trying to celebrate it together aboard the Astral Express. As the train hums through the stars, you find warmth in each other’s company, sharing quiet reflections, unspoken emotions, and a simple touch beneath the twinkling lights of a decorated tree.

Tags: Sunday x Reader, Fluff, Soft Moments, Mutual Pining, Subtle Angst but Mostly Fluff, Touch-Starved Sunday (?), Found Family Feels, Holiday Celebration (Sort Of), First Time Experiencing Christmas.

Warnings: Brief Mentions of Sunday’s Past (Melancholy Nostalgia), Light Hand-Holding (Yes, this is a warning. Why? I don't know either).

A/N: ahahaha.... 🚶‍♀️

The Express hums beneath your feet, its rhythmic motion blending with the low murmur of conversation and distant clinking of tableware. Outside the windows, the vast stretch of space is interrupted by a planet cloaked in a wintry glow, its atmosphere swirling with crystalline clouds.

It had been March 7th’s idea, of course—bringing a little of this Christmas tradition onto the Express. You weren’t sure how she managed to convince the others, but now, the train was adorned with twinkling lights, garlands, and strange red-and-white striped confections. A tree—tall, evergreen, and shimmering with baubles—stood proudly in the lounge.

Sunday stands before it, tilting his head ever so slightly, eyes tracing the soft glow of the ornaments. His wings shift with subtle curiosity, the left one twitching when he reaches a gloved hand to touch the twinkling lights. You watch, amused, from the couch as his brow furrows in quiet contemplation.

"You’re staring," you say, unable to help the smile that tugs at your lips.

Sunday doesn’t turn immediately. His fingers brush against the branches, his halo casting faint reflections against the glass baubles. "This ritual," he murmurs. "It’s meant to commemorate something, yes?"

You nod, shifting to sit cross-legged on the couch. "Apparently, it’s a celebration of warmth, generosity… togetherness. But, uh, I’m as lost as you are."

Sunday finally glances at you, the faintest ghost of a smile forming. "Then we are both wandering in the dark, it seems."

You huff a laugh. "Yeah, but at least we’ve got each other."

He doesn’t reply immediately. Instead, he turns back to the tree, thoughtful. There’s a familiar weight in his expression—the kind he wears when nostalgia grips him like a quiet tide, pulling him beneath memories you cannot quite reach.

"It reminds me of the Charmony Festival," he finally says, voice airy, distant. "We would release lanterns into the sky, their glow like falling stars, guiding lost souls to peace."

You watch the way his gaze softens, his mind lingering in a time long past. You wonder if it is painful for him to recall, or if the memories have dulled into something bittersweet.

You rise from your seat, stepping closer until you stand beside him. "It sounds beautiful," you say, your voice softer now.

Sunday exhales, the faintest flutter of his wings betraying an emotion he does not voice. "It was."

A beat of silence stretches between you, comfortable yet brimming with something unspoken. The lights of the tree flicker gently, casting shifting shadows across Sunday’s features.

Then, hesitantly, you reach for his hand. His fingers are cold through the gloves, but he does not pull away. Instead, he tilts his head, studying your intertwined fingers with quiet intrigue.

"You said Christmas is about togetherness," he muses, thumb grazing your knuckles absentmindedly. "Then… I suppose this is as close as we can get to understanding it."

Your heart stutters at the sincerity in his tone.

"Yeah," you breathe, squeezing his hand lightly. "I think so."

The Express hums on, carrying you both through an endless sea of stars, and for the first time in a long while, Sunday allows himself to simply exist in the quiet warmth of the moment.

[temporarywelcome]

12 Fics of Christmas Day 2 - Tate Langdon

"Gingerbread Men"

Words: 1.4k

Summary: Being a ghost in the house sucks, reader missing her family this Chrismas season. Tate takes it upon himself to make her feel better.

A/N: sorry I wrote this in one sitting in between class breaks rip. Also let's pretend Tate didn't do the freaky deaky with Vivian. And he sees Violet as a friend, nothing more.

____

When Tate first saw her, he was incredibly infatuated. 

He followed her throughout the house, refusing to let her see him for the first few days. Just quietly admiring her and her beauty. 

Because she was beautiful. 

When he finally decided to make himself known, she was sitting in the living room, lounging with a book in her hand. He knew he looked creepy, standing in the archway and staring at her, but he couldn’t help it. 

Y/N was like a goddess. 

Yes, he looked creepy as hell, and, yes, she reacted the right way, gasping and throwing her book as hard as humanly possible at him. 

“Who the fuck are you?!” she had shouted, scrambling to her feet and grabbing a lamp in defense. 

Tate, who easily caught the book in his hands, fiddled with it nervously, “Tate. You could put the lamp down,”

“What the hell is wrong with this neighborhood?” Y/N muttered to herself, grip on the lamp tightening, “Everyone and their mama just loves to show up uninvited in my fucking house! You know how rude that is, right?”

Tate already knew his mother and sister had entered the home multiple times without consent. The difference between him and them was the fact they could easily leave. He could not.

A con of being dead. 

“Sorry,” he replied, lips forming a smile as he sauntered towards her. She raised the lamp in warning, but did not act on it, allowing him to casually sit criss-cross at her feet, “What’s your name?” Tate pretended not to know, pretended he wasn’t following her around pretty much all day every day. 

“Mother fucker get out of my house!” she exclaimed. This guy… What the fuck was wrong with him?

“Relax, I just wanted to talk,” he brings his knees to his chest, trying to give off an innocent look, giving her his big puppy dog eyes, “I had to get away from home, my mom is always yelling,” he lied.

“So you decided to enter my home uninvited?” When she said it like that, yeah, he did sound weird. 

Tate shrugged, “The door was unlocked,” he replied. He had no idea if it was actually unlocked. He didn’t care. “I knocked but no one answered.”

“A sign to leave us alone, isn’t it?” she responded sarcastically. 

His grin just got bigger, dimples showing, “You’re funny,” he said, ignoring the obvious distress in her tone of voice. 

And that was how they became friends. Just friends, nothing more.

Though he was incredibly in love with her. 

So when the house finally took her from the land of the living, he felt terrible for her. He had tried his best to keep her alive and safe, but alas, the house was forever cursed. She was bound to that fate as soon as she had stepped foot into the foyer. 

Tate tried to comfort her to the best of his ability, but she was not only depressed but pissed off at him for essentially lying to her about his identity. He wasn’t Tate, the cute and sensitive neighbor who was sweet to her and just happened to suspiciously only be able to hang out in her house. No, that wasn’t him, he was Tate Langdon, mass shooter, viewed as a monster by many, and of course, a ghost. 

He tried to explain to her the nature of the house, tried to explain he was never violent, he was never murderous, till he had moved there. But Y/N was not having it. She did not care. 

And so, despite the close proximity, Tate had never felt so alone. 

Eventually, December came, and Y/N looked even more depressed than usual. She didn’t even talk to the other ghosts anymore, she simply lay curled up in some room of the house, usually changing location every day. Tate had begged one of the newer ghosts, Violet, for help, begged her to know what was making Y/N more depressed than usual. Violet had only been in the house as a ghost for a few weeks, but being close in age with Y/N and Tate, Y/N spoke to her a lot. 

“It’s Christmas time,” Violet finally explained after Tate’s pleading, “She misses her family,” 

Oh. 

Y/N was the only one in her family who had died in the house. She had died and her family could not stay there for another second, moving away. She was very close to her family, Tate couldn’t imagine how she was feeling right now. Her first Christmas alone. 

And so he had an idea. 

___

“Get your ass up,” Violet groaned, grabbing one of Y/N’s legs and tugging. 

“Fuck you!” she began to kick her legs wildly, but Violet stayed firm, dragging her ass out of the room, “What the fuck are you doing?!”

Violet rolled her eyes, “Stop fucking moving,”

“I want to be left alone!” Y/N got a kick at Violet’s gut, causing her friend to drop her leg. She crawled back to the middle of the room, curling up on the floor. 

“I’ll kill you twice,” Violet hissed, already starting to get annoyed, “Get the fuck up,”

“No,” 

The ghost pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing, “Look, Tate really wants to show you something. Can you please get the fuck up? For him? He did something for you,”

“Fuck him too,”

“Y/N,” Violet said, warning in her tone, “Please. Just for a minute,”

Finally, she huffed and sat up, “This better be good,”

Violet stretched out a hand, which Y/N took, hauled to her feet, “I think it’s very good. He worked hard on this. Like, really hard, and I don’t expect much from teenage boys.” 

“Yeah yeah yeah,” Y/N followed her down the hall, arms crossed over her chest in disinterest, “Let’s just get this over with,” they went down the steps of the stairs and to the living room. 

Y/N paused. 

The living room was decorated in reds and golds, garland and twinkle lights draped over every surface. Little Santa and snowmen figurines were placed on the table and fireplace, stockings placed. Whoever placed them had scribbled out the names with Sharpie, messly writing Y/N, Violet, and Tate on them. 

And the culprit was in the corner of the living room, messly decorating a tree with a Santa hat on. Tate turned, grinning wide, “Y/N!” he exclaimed in excitement, “Do you like it?!”

She practically melted right then and there.

Unmoving, she eyed the tree, tangled Christmas lights thrown around it, ornaments crowded into the front. It was awful, but the effort was there and so fucking adorable she was starting to tear up. 

“You did this for me?” she asked after a moment.

Tate nodded, nervously shuffling towards her, “Do you like it?” he repeated, hands at his sides, fiddling with his jeans. 

She bit her bottom lip to keep her from crying, nodding quickly, “Yes, it’s so pretty…” she threw her arms around his neck for a hug. His eyes brightened, arms snaking around her waist tightly. “Thank you, Tate,” 

An alarm dinged, and he pulled away, “Oh! Cmon cmon cmon!” she was then being dragged into the kitchen, Tate rushing to the oven, opening it.

Motherfucker baked cookies.

Tate Langdon…. Baked fucking…. Cookies?

He set the pan down on the counter, terribly cut-out gingerbread men looking back up at him, “My mom came by yesterday so I kind of begged her to get me a recipe and the ingredients,” 

That touched her even more. Tate always ignored her mother when she came to the house. But he spoke to her just so he could bake Y/N cookies?

“I was thinking we could decorate them together?” he asked hopefully, emptying a shopping bag onto the island. Different icings and piping bags bounced against the counter. 

“Told you he worked really hard,” Violet mused. 

“I remember you said you always baked gingerbread cookies with your mom,” said Tate, that same excited look not leaving his face for even a second. Holy fuck when did he become so perfect?

“We did,” Y/N replied with a soft nod, trying to suppress her urge to sob on him. It was then she noticed he was wearing an ugly Christmas sweater too. He looked so hugable. She swiped at her tearing up eyes real quick, “Lets decorate these fuckers,”

Tate’s eyes lit up, him, Violet, and the love of his life getting to work decorating the gingerbread men, giggling like children at their horrible artistry, Christmas music playing on the record player in the background.

___

Tags:

@envy-of-greed @bohnerrific69

[daniiiboo]

day 2 - the gift you didn't expect - lh43

summary - Luke has been hinting about a mysterious gift he's been working on for months. You try to figure it out, but the surprise is something you never could have imagined.

trigger warnings - nothin !

dani's thoughts - kinda starts off the same as day 1's fic, but it changes ! kinda the same with the ending :p I dunno how I did this tbh !

word count- 880

find the rest of my 12 days of chrismas here !

Christmas Eve had always been your favorite time of year. The snowflakes gently falling outside, the warm glow of lights on the Christmas tree, and the smell of pine mixed with cinnamon, everything about the holiday season filled you with warmth. But this year felt a little different. Luke Hughes, your boyfriend, had been away with his hockey team for the past few weeks, and while you were excited for him, you couldn’t help but miss him.

You had spent the evening preparing your apartment, decorating the tree, baking cookies, and wrapping presents for friends and family. Still, something was missing. The one thing that always made Christmas feel complete: Luke.

As the hours dragged on, you tried to stay occupied. You were just about to curl up on the couch with a book when your phone buzzed.

Luke: “hey, I'm coming up, will you let me in?"

Your heart skipped a beat. After weeks of silence and short texts, Luke was finally coming home. You quickly rushed to get ready, adjusting the Christmas lights and making sure the apartment looked perfect.

A knock at the door startled you, and without thinking twice, you rushed to open it.

Standing there, in the glow of the Christmas lights, was Luke. His familiar smile spread across his face, and his eyes sparkled with excitement.

“Merry Christmas, (Y/N),” he said softly, stepping inside.

“Merry Christmas!” You couldn’t contain your joy as you threw your arms around him, feeling his warmth seep into your cold skin. "I missed you so much."

Luke chuckled, holding you tightly.

“I missed you too. But I’ve got something for you.” He pulled away slightly, his grin never fading as he reached into his bag and pulled out a small, wrapped box.

"Wait! Come inside, it's cold out there" you explained, pulling Luke inside, letting him take his coat and hat off, and leave his bag by the door.

"Okay now let me see it" you say, holding out your hands as the two of you sit on the couch.

You raised an eyebrow.

“What’s this?”

“You’ll see,” he said with a playful glint in his eyes.

With trembling hands, you unwrapped the gift, slowly peeling away the paper. Inside, nestled in a small velvet box, was a beautifully crafted pendant. It was a delicate silver locket, its surface etched with a small snowflake and the word "forever" engraved on the back.

But that wasn’t what made your heart race.

When you opened the locket, inside were two pictures. One was of you and Luke, smiling on a beach during a trip you’d taken together. The other was of Luke, dressed in his hockey gear.

You stared at the locket, speechless, your fingers gently caressing the pictures.

“Luke… I don’t understand,” you whispered. “It’s beautiful, but…”

Luke smiled, his expression softening as he took your hands in his.

“I know it’s not much, but… this is something I’ve been working on for months. I wanted to give you something that meant something to both of us.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

Luke took a deep breath, clearly nervous.

“I’ve been collecting photos, memories, little things we’ve done together over the past year. Every time I was on the road, I’d think of you and how much you meant to me. I wanted to make something that would remind you of me every day, even when we’re apart. So, I made this locket. It’s more than just a piece of jewelry, it’s a symbol of us, our memories, and the moments I want to keep with me forever.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you looked up at him, overwhelmed by the thought and effort he had put into this gift.

“Luke… you really went all out. You’ve been working on this for months?”

He nodded, his voice steady but full of emotion.

“I wanted it to be perfect. I wanted you to know how much you mean to me. I know I’ve been away a lot, but you’re always in my heart. I’m not perfect, but I want to be there for you, always.”

You couldn’t hold back anymore. You wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his chest as your tears fell freely. Luke gently held you, his hand running through your hair.

“Hey,” he whispered, his voice full of affection. “You’re my everything. This Christmas, I just wanted to show you that, no matter where I am, you’re always with me. I’ll carry you in my heart wherever I go, and I hope this locket reminds you of that.”

You pulled back slightly, wiping away your tears as you smiled at him, your heart swelling with love.

“This is the best Christmas gift anyone could ever give me, Luke. Thank you for making it so special.”

Luke grinned and kissed your forehead softly. “Anything for you. I’m just glad we’re together now.”

With that, he gently closed the locket and placed it around your neck. It rested perfectly against your chest, right over your heart. You reached up to touch it, feeling the warmth of his love and the care he had put into this beautiful gift.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of laughter, warmth, and shared moments as you both enjoyed your Christmas together. As you cuddled on the couch, sipping hot cocoa and watching Christmas movies, you couldn’t help but feel incredibly lucky. Luke’s gift, a symbol of his love, would stay close to your heart forever.

And as the snow continued to fall outside, you realized that this Christmas was perfect—not because of the gifts, but because you were with the person who meant everything to you.

[hehearse]

Pls I need to hear more of your thoughts on shj and hyj and shj's relationship. There's barely any meta discussion on them😭😭

there is not much of it?? and here i thought there's lots.... (<- never went out of their way to look)

first of all sorry if that is NOT what you were looking for cause i am not a smart meta person, i can only yap in circles for a bit with various degree of success! also again. did not finish s classes

anyway. shj is such a fun bastard to think about. forever tired from everything, forced to repeat his lives again and again for refusing to take the hand that so carefully groomed him into being so powerful he won't count as human anymore. not to be the guy who only ever saw boss baby BUT oh the contrast of being so immensely strong yet powerless and unable to keep loving things. keep yourself in your place. (yes i am thinking about od and how his happy ending is being loved back by those he hurt so what of it). ANYWAY. shj is strung along by his golden leash at this point, isn't he? look at the pre-reg!shj that shows up in the chrismas dungeon. bitter, cold and tired. as kind as an icy lake that will swallow you whole if you make a wrong move. his words are harsh and cruel, yet he is unable to go further, still bantering and waiting for yoojin. NOT UNLIKE 25!HAN YOOHYUN IF YOU THINK ABOUT IT NO WAIT DON'T DRAG ME OFF THE STAGE he is a fool who is yet to fall for the human treatment. because the yoojin he met was in the middle of being hurt, and how much love can you spare when you are in constant pain?

and present shj is all ^^ and banter, but even that came only after he, merely curious, tried pushing yoojin's buttons and bending his lines. even to the point of being, once again, incredibly cruel - remember that talk of his about the rotten insides. and he found out exactly at which point that item of his starts breaking, and he stopped. points at him deciding against breaking yoojin's leg to keep in korea by force, because he got reminded of how they started their relationship. what he did at the start. he did not want to be like that anymore huh. and REMEMBER he also. chose against breaking song taewon's legs while yoojin had his broken at the same time. something about taking a different path for once.

which, if you think about, is him choosing someone else's comfort over his curiosity, which is the only thing that keeps him going. he stated multiple times how he is his own top priority, how his curiosity is the thing that matters the most. and yet. he can't break yoojin again. he wants to win his trust back. he wants yoojin to open up to him, not to do the opening by force. oh how new and how scary that must feel - to leave yourself in someone else's hands - for someone of his power... heh

also just saying. i am never letting go of the vr dungeon. shj straight up said "no one hates being loved" and "i will not end up like han yoohyun". and then he did. the monster fell for the trick of being loved like a human, put on a new shiny pink leash and is now scared his touch is too heavy and human bones too brittle. point and laugh at the fool!

as for yoojin's side. sung hyunje said it himself. yoojin needed someone that is not under his care and who can survive on their own. who can handle yoojin at his worst and not turn away. (and also the guy just cannot leave any monster unloved huh.)

(as an addition i think it's very funny how ahem thanks to their parents and han yoohyun ahem yoojin ended up terrified of being abandoned and now all his favorite people are so possessive it's a shock in-universe that he is locking himself during the brainwashing, and not being locked up "at least by han yoohyun". he got the perfect company ^^)

[autism-corner]

i get to have my christmas lights on overnight. as a little treat.

[hello-spidey14]

Lloyd-"Hey cole...i just wanna say if you were a cookie you would be one of those oreo cookie sandwiches that has two cookies and oreo ice cream in the middle and you would have chocolate syrup on top"

Cole- "thats actually the best compliment ive ever been given -"

Lloyd- "um...if jay was a cookie he would be one of those cookies that have m&ms in them...kai would be a gingerbread cookie because he has main character syndrome. His icing would be messed up and it would look like he did it himself. He gives off chrismas vibes somehow...mabye its cause his hair looks like a Christmas tree- or the star that thats on top!.."

Lloyd- "Mmh....nya would be a white chocolate macadamia nut cookie cause its underrated but is really good and i like the cookie and i like nya so they have something in common! Zane would be a cookie sandwhich with 2 chocolate chip cookies with vanilla ice cream. Its simple and good"

Lloyd- "What else what else....oh this is actually so smart but sensei wu would be a fortune cookie cause he has hidden wisdom and messages like the fortune cookies!"

Lloyd- "And my dad would be...an oatmeal rasin cookie! I feel like he would like them. And hes really old so he looks like a rasisn! But like a stale oatmeal rasin cookie that's kinda crunchy...yeah he's a stale oatmeal rasisn cookie!"

Cole- "hey lloyd..."

Lloyd "yeah....?"

Cole- "never change"

Lloyd akwardly: "ok??...i wont."

-------------------------♡♡♡------------------------

Edit: BONUS CAUSE IM DUMB AND FORGOT LLOYD COOKIE COME BACKKKK (IM NEEDY)

Cole: "wait....what cookie are you then?"

Lloyd- "not to sound arrogant or anything but since I've given this a lot of thought....I would be a sugar cookie but specifically the ones with the pink frosting and sprinkles that people give on birthdays or at the grocery stores and it might be green frosting or- OH THEY ADD MINT TO THE COOKIE....mhmm...now I want cookies but I feel bad cause I got the best cookie-"

[rosiesrroses]

Santa | mv1

Summary: In which Y/n and Max try to make Christmas special for their children.

Paring: dad!max verstappen x mom!reader

Warning: Just fluff. This is kinda short and not proofread.

Finished: 23 Dec. 2023

Posted: 25 Dec. 2023

Word count: 769

note: Merry Christmas ❤ These photos are not mine, I got them from pinterest.

My love for u is ever lasting, it will last until eternity ends~

y/n verstappen’s pov - around 6.30 am

“Mommy! Mommy! Mommy! Wake up!” 

I internally groaned as I heard my two four-year-old boys, Jamie and Colin, shout and began jumping on Max and I’s bed.

“Boys, please. Can we please use our inside voices? It’s still too early to be screaming like this” I try to reason with them. 

“But it’s Christmas momma,” Jamie said with a frown on his face.

“Yes, and momma is also really excited. But we can’t go screaming like this and wake everyone up, okay?” I asked them.

“Okay,” they both said and looked down onto the bed. 

“Why don’t we go downstairs and make some hot chocolate?” I asked them and they both eagerly nodded before jumping off the bed and running out of the bedroom.

“Max. Maxie,” I whispered in Max's ear, trying to wake him up. 

But he just groaned, mumbling incoherent words before turning to his left side and going back to snoring.  

“Max, can you please wake up?” I asked a little louder so that he could hear me this time.

“What?” he asked as he turned on his back still with his eyes closed.

This man is not a morning person.

“It’s Christmas and the kids are already downstairs waiting,” I said as he finally sat up. 

“Oh, yeah. Merry Chrismas schatje.” he smiled and he gave me a quick peck on the lips.

“Eww” Max and I heard as we finished and turned to see Jamie and Colin.

“Momma, you promised us hot chocolate!” Colin whined. 

“I know, I know. Let’s go make us some hot chocolate, and then we can go open all of our presents.” I said as I picked Colin up and held Jamie’s hand as we left the room.

Instagram ~

yourusername

♡ liked by yourbff, maxverstappen1, and 527, 894 others

yourusername Merry Christmas from the Verstappen family ❤

comments on this post has been limited

yourbff Merry christmas ❤

➥ yourusername ❤

landonorris Merry christmas

➥ yourusername ❤

redbullracing Still coming to the christmas party? Everyone's invited.

➥ yourusername Can’t make any promises 🤫

max verstappen’s pov - a couple hours later

“Don’t they look cute just playing with their toys?” Y/n asked as she stood beside me with a cup of coffee in her hands.

The minute the twins finished their hot chocolate, they tore all the presents open and have been playing with their toys ever since. 

And I just hummed as a response to Y/n’s question, not knowing what else to say. 

“What’s wrong?” Y/n asked me, putting her cup down on the counter.

“What? Nothing. Just thinking about tonight's Christmas party,” I sighed.

“Oh me too. I can’t wait to see everyone again,” Y/n smiled at the thought.

“Yeah, I was kind of thinking the opposite,” I confessed.

“What? Why?” Y/n frowned. 

“I don’t know. I just want to spend today inside, with my family,” I shrugged. 

“Okay, let me tell you what. The twins are really excited to go, so let’s just go for a couple of hours and see if we enjoy it,” she tried to reason with me.

“Okay, anything for you schatje,” I smiled and kissed her forehead. 

She smiled back at me and walked to the living room where the kids are sat, still playing with their toys. 

“Really?!” the twins both simultaneously shouted as Y/n whispered something to them.

“Yeah, so let’s go get ready and then we can leave,” Y/n nodded in confirmation.

Instagram ~

yourusername

♡ liked by yourbff, maxverstappen1, redbullracing and 605,225

tagged: maxverstappen1, redbullracing 

yourusername before and after said christmas party

comments have been turned off by the creator

y/n vestappen’s pov - at the Christmas party

“Momma, why is Daddy dressed like Santa?” I heard Colin say as he tugged on my dress. 

Max was asked to dress like Santa for this year's Christmas party, and he was more than happy to.

But Max doesn’t have the best costume on, so the twins can definitely see that it is Max instead of Santa. 

“Well, that’s because Santa couldn’t make it. Santa’s wife is sick and she needs someone to care for her so Santa asked Daddy to be in his place tonight,” I lie.

“Oh, so Daddy thinks we think he’s Santa?” Jamie asked. Jamie has always been smart. 

“Yeah, so why don’t you two go say hi to “Santa”?” I wink at them. 

“Okay, momma,” Colin said and kissed my cheek before they left. 

“So, are you gonna tell Max that they know?” One of my friends asked me as I stood up from my crouching position. 

“Never,"

[haobubbles]

gift giving with riize

genre: fluff

tw: no foolproof read!!, suggestive (wonbin's)

roxy yapps: HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONEEE!! i hope you had the best last moments with 2024 and well, let's see what 2025 has prepared for usss, I GOT SO CARRIED ON WITH SOHEE'S ONE LOLXD

before reading: the presents are not custom made for everyone, you may love some, not like some others.. but pls keep in mind this is all fiction. at the end of the day, you can imagine any present that you would like better than the ones mentioned!

── . ★ shotaro

this guy literally spent the whole month, from thr 1st day of december until the 24th, preparing your gifts and planning a big surprise.

he went through all the stages, all while keeping it a secret from you! at first, making all innocent questions to know about anything you could want or need as a gift. he was very exited but for the surprise, he had to keep his uninterested and nonchalant in order to give you the surprise.

when you opened a box that had two pair of identical pyjama sets, you didn't have the time to even think what it was when shotaro, all giggly and exited said "i saw you had been reposting a lot of videos of matching pyjamas, so i settled down for these two, i hope you like them!!"

── . ★ eunseok

he was like a literal vault. you couldn't get a wornd of information of him, which made you think he either had a colossal surprise or he didn't have any. you couldn't decide which one though.

however; when you heard his faint footsteps on the floor the night of the 24th, you could tell he had an ace up his sleeve he didn't want to tell you about. the next morning, when you saw the shoe box you were happy to know you were right, however, on the inside despite it's appearence, there was a brand new high-end phone, as your had broken a week before and you were using your old one while it was getting repaired.

there was also a paper that, from what you could calculate, there were two weeks from the first tiket and the second. on the paper, the ink was drawing your dream, two weeks in milan.

"merry crhistmas darling" he said when you made you way to him, engulfing you in the biggest and most affectionate hug.

── . ★ sungchan

as the great tease sungchan is, he would keep you at his toes; telling you how exited he was for you to see his present, or dropping comments as "i'm such a genious when it comes to gifts" while walking by.

when the day finally arrived and you saw the tree empty, you were dissappointed to say the least. you thought of searching through the house, but when he appeared all of nowhere and told you to follow his rulles, you abided obediently.

he had prepared a game that consisted on clues to find your present, but what you didn't expect was for the game to carry on after the first present. that's how you gathered around 10 presents, all of diferent shapes and forms, but somehow you needed all them. it was as if he had heard you listing your favourite things in your sleep.

── . ★ wonbin

wonbin had been teasing you during the two weeks prior to christmas day on what kind of colour you would like for your present, and he left you speechless anf glued on your spot when he added that it was for lingerie. dismissing him everytime, as you knew how much he adored to push you buttons.

when chrismas came and you saw a big box, you let out a content sigh, thinking to be safe about the tormentous amounts he had made you embarassed for thinking he would gift you lingerie. when you opened it and saw the enormous colour spectrum of the colour pallete he gave you, you gasped in awe for the thoughtful idea, given how much you craved to pick up painting this days.

what he added behind your back though, replaced any trace of a smile you had left with a heavy blush and the burning feeling in your lower stomach "there is another present waiting for you on the bed, but i think i'll wait a little bit here in case you want to give it a first use"

── . ★ seunghan

this guy wasn't worried at all. well, maybe a little bit. but definitely not stressed. he knew he could always go for some bracalet or expensive earrings, but as you are his significant other, he wanted to make it special, more soul reaching.

after doing a mini research on what to gift to your partner, he got "the perfect idea". and that is how, on the morning of the 25th of december, you found a plushie under your christmas tree. after seunghan pointed it out, you looked at the little front poket it had, and you saw some paper, which had written on their back "voucher". when you read the front of them, they were all planned dates ideas, with seunghan's caligraphy, it went from a cat cafe to kissing on the top of a ferris wheel. was it a coincidence he was able to write on those papers all your ideal dates? i gues we will never know.

── . ★ sohee

saying that he was stressed is honestly an understatement. just ans seunghan, he wanted to make it memorable, but he had no idea how to. it was even worse because he denied and refused profusely to get any type of help from you. he didn't want to ask you what you wanted but at the same time he couldn't find something that he could give you and would be of great use.

after a lot of deliberating, it took you as a surprise how, just after waking up, you were received with a breakfast in bed. when you both finished, and after a little bit of hesiststion from sohee, he told you you didn't need to step out of the room to see his gift.

after joking on how he was your one and only present, he walked over to your wardrobe, and when he opened it, you found something very different and noticeable from yesterday when you went to sleep. your whole wardrobe had changed.

"i've been noticing that you use a lot of my caps, sweaters and evern some pants, so i decided that, according to your style, i could gift you a lot of new caps, sweaters..some are even the same as mine so you don't miss the old ones!"

── . ★ anton

christmas was a big deal for anton, especially gift giving. i can imagine him competing ever since he was a kid with his family on who could give the most creative gift, so it's a big deal for him.

he would be quite insecure and would keep on asking his hyungs if they thought you would like the present or not, worrying too much about it.

however; he knew he had made a fantastic job when you almost teared up with the huge box he gifted you, full of your favourite snacks, some keychain and a phoncase you had told him you liked, a couple of neckaces and the cherry on top, a cd that had ?songs that remind me of you' written on it. as pinterest-y as it sounded, you could bet pinterest users didn't have a whole personal song made, recorded and personalised from anton to you.

[2demondogs]

With Chrismas around the corner (not really but basically), i would love an Arthur x GN!reader where Arthur proposes to reader for Chrismas and they obviously say yes because, well, it's Arthur, who wouldn't?

Anon did you read my mind. I was just thinking about proposal fics when you sent this ask because I have yet to stumble on one somehow... I'm sorry this took forever btw T-T

Shoutout to my platonic boyfriend for helping me with ideas because I got writer's block <3

Words: 3k oh my good lord Tags: canon divergence (it's just people leaving the gang a chapter early), Arthur does not have tuberculosis, INSTANT spoilers for character death, cheesy shit

It's been too long, you're realizing, since holidays like Christmas felt like special things. There is a double-edged feel to this one — it is the first since Hosea's death, since leaving the gang — but it is the first, in a very long time, that you've spent in the so-called right way: in a warm house with four solid walls and someone you love, how those fanciful books Mary-Beth used to talk your ear off about always wrote.

The house is warm enough, anyways.

There's work that needs done on the cabin. Some of the wood is rotting out and chipped at the corners, forming into sharp splinters that you've brushed against one too many times, but it is a house. You haven't had this pleasure since before joining the gang.

Sometimes, with how content Arthur seems at baseline, you wonder if he's had this pleasure since early childhood. On quieter evenings, ones less reserved for happiness than this one, there has been clipped discussion about how Arthur has never had domesticity like this. Silently, it was an admission of how good it is to share this freshness with you.

During a ride into town, he'd admitted that he had never picked up painting because it was the sort of thing only steady folks got to enjoy. You'd gotten him a set of oil paints when no one was looking — he's worth much more than a few measly dollars, but that means little if you haven't got them to begin with. Some habits die hard; he was happy you remembered what he'd said only a few hours before.

Come the new year, Arthur plans to find work that will pay. New things are a luxury neither of you care much to indulge in, but the repairs will take lumber and maybe a few extra hands. Ones with more expertise, at least, because Arthur's houses usually have not had foundations.

You could simply move now that time has passed, yes. You could find somewhere much farther away, maybe even New York, and pack yourselves in alongside the other sardines bustling about a city, undetectable in uniformity. Shave beards, got jobs, change clothes, cut hair and color it, too, if paranoia strikes— but keeping low to the ground has worked itself out so far, and there is no more of that deathlike stagnation in the air of this place.

Sentimentally, you think this Christmas will seal off whatever makes this cabin yours. Shadows linger, there's been a few odd creaks that've spooked the horses, and maybe it's going to shit a lot quicker than either of you want to admit, but it's your shit-house and the shared stubbornness between you has always brought you nothing but closer to one another.

Arthur is tired of running, and so are you. Last week, he talked about writing to Mary-Beth and Simon, maybe checking if Kieran — the utterance of the man's proper name was a confirmation of the last of that stockholmlike regret having worked out of his system — had broken and followed his little girlfriend. It wasn't said with malice, just some amusement.

"Why do you think he would?" You'd asked.

"Dutch only saves people who don't ask for it," he'd said, and that wistful look in his eyes vanished before you could ask what it meant.

Maybe it's the hard work that makes it feel like a real, true holiday. Pearson and Grimshaw stopped working everyone harder in the winter over the years, once the familial glamour faded with each new addition to the gang. It was no longer a tight-knit group, but a posse, more or less, of runaways and strays all against a big, evil thing like the rest of the world, or whatever it was that Dutch grew to fear.

Since November, Arthur has been saving the best catches to be salted and stored for Christmas dinner. Each addition is cleaner skinned and cut than the last, and the newfound worst of them ended up being ate upon his return from hunting. You've both been saving back herbs since summer, dried and ready to be crumbled into the heated up pot come time for a real feast. Cornbread was made by hand for the first time since you settled down here, drizzled with honey from the general store a ways out.

The latter was Arthur's only specific request for a fancy dinner. If you hadn't gotten him a single gift save for making it, he'd still be happy as a clam.

He's been putting that goddamned honey on everything. You're glad he seems to be enjoying things again, not as tightstrung as he was before you'd made off with him. That's how it feels, anyways, after the long and struggling conversations that were had before the decision was made. Family or life? It's a hard question for someone who has such little concept of either.

Now, the grey hair in his beard is catching the light from the fireplace where he's sat himself on a chair before it. They'd sprouted through the sun-bleached blond atop his head has been looking lighter and lighter in recent months, grey finally catching up to the discoloration and giving him some malcolored sort of tabby look. It's a good one on him, as much as he complains about looking old as dirt and that it's all formed by stress.

For all the lacking color, it adds a ruddy warmth to his face. Daydreams of growing old together find you when you focus on it, or on his wheezing laugh that's gotten worse with the cold weather. Despite the woolen vest he's been sporting, his fingers are as chilled as yours whenever they've brushed. Idly, you wonder if he's gotten whatever Hosea grew into, then remember they were never by blood.

Arthur hadn't wanted you to get him any gifts. When you asked if he would get you something, he'd flushed and changed his mind, apparently already having done it.

Whatever it is, it's good-sized, wrapped in one of the dustcloths you'd gotten him alongside the paints. He's been spending more time painting, lately, tucked in the treeline and looking over the cabin or deeper into the woods, studying something plein air the way those professionals do. He'd propped it against the wall this morning, and once you've settled on the floor before the fireplace — too cold outside not to crowd close to it — after dinner, he looks between you and the cloth like he isn't sure what to do.

"D'you wanna do the honors?" He asks, and grins although the twitch of his eye tells you he's covering timidity with faux cockiness.

"You go ahead," you say, half because he's closer. Tormenting him in small ways must be part of any good gift.

The painting is an image you recognize. A photo that one of the girls took for you months before things went down the hole, using the camera Arthur was loaned by some feller in town who wanted photos taken for a book. He never returned it, and it more or less became something he tucked beneath his cot and let the elements beat around. You can't remember, now, who it was or where he went to get it developed.

The little inkling of pride you felt knowing he kept putting off getting the negatives developed — not enough money, not enough time — yet was gone the next morning to have yours developed returns, now.

It's a much nicer rendition of it, your clothes not dirty and his arm around your waist, the other holding his hat to his chest. It's clear he preferred to give your portrait more detail, his own lagging somewhere behind in clarity and looking closer to the photo. You suppose it's easier to look at someone besides himself, but there's a clearer enjoyment in the lines of you, more care taken in the color mixes.

Ignoring the dense joy of the implications of that, of how obvious it is, proves difficult. Your cheeks twinge some from the wide smile before you realize you're even reacting.

"You'll be a big name someday," you say, and he may as well shrink in on himself beneath the praise, although he's heard it plenty of times before.

"Naw," he waves a hand. "Quit that."

"Really, Arthur." Scooting closer, laying your hands over his knee. He's moving his jaw when your eyes meet his, lays a hand over one of yours, heavy and warm. "It's beautiful. I love it."

"Good," he says. His jaw clicks. "I— uh, I love you."

The hunting knife you got for him seems small, though relatively equal. Arthur looks as pleased as ever studying it, half-mumbling appraisals of yeah, nice and sharp, sturdy to himself that likely would've stayed inside his head, if it weren't for wanting to show you he liked it.

A bone handle, which he feels over with his fingers before noticing it's engraved, fits easy in his palm. You were afraid you push your luck with maintaining its quality too far adding the tiny, vague bear shape next to the deeper cut of his name. Already impressive was the fact that you hadn't ruined it with the letters, being one of your first expeditions into anything of the sort.

"I would've gotten you one of those folding knives," you explain. "But they don't hold up as well, and I know you have one."

The army knife was Hosea's.

"Needed me a new huntin' knife," Arthur says. You know, because he's complained about his current one being close to snapping with all the skinning he does anymore. He squints at the handle, turns it over in the light from the fire. "Did you engrave the handle?"

"Yessir."

He smiles. "It's real nice," he says, pats his palm with the blade softly. It makes a dull noise, sturdy metal on skin. "Why a bear?"

"They remind me of you," you admit. Really, you'd spent a long time considering what else to add, because only his name seemed so plain; although he wouldn't be opposed to flowers or vines, they are a little more intricate than a simplified bear head. "Big and strong. Hairy, too. I'd like to hug one."

He snorts a laugh, but it seems thin. His eyes are fond enough on you that it couldn't be any rejection of your words, and so you brush it off. "You wanna hug a bear?" He asks.

"In a perfect world," you amend. "Don't they look warm?"

"You'd better stick to me," he says, smooths a palm over the thigh of his jeans. The nicest pair he owns, he promised you, because he feels ridiculous in slacks and seems to think you care what he wears.

Beyond thinking everything looks well on him, at least. You often find yourself concerned with that thought.

"I got you somethin' else," Arthur starts, running a finger over the bunched inseam at his own knee. "Well, uh— it's f'both of us, really."

Isn't that intriguing, you think, but your silent, undivided attention seems to make him outright nervous, so you say: "Oh?"

Some conflict happens over his face as he pulls his vest collar away and reaches into the inner pocket, takes out a stack of thin papers that he glances over before apparently relenting to something. Confusion finds you, until he takes a deep breath and holds them towards you.

"Read these," is all he says, and he sounds like it's almost painful.

He's written much, much more than that. Your stomach turns, once or twice, realizing they are pages from his journal. Uncertain why, until the first entries which are skittering on affectionate fade into ones much more flowery. They are all about you, days you'd spent together or times you hadn't, the things you've given him over the years and the things he wished he could've given you.

Each page makes your chest feel tight with a panicked joy, as if his hands were not fiddling with the new knife to occupy — distract? — himself but clenching hard at your heart.

One, near the beginning, says he thought of pickin' a pretty lil' flower, God bless it, I feel ridiculous; on the back of the next is pressed a variegated tulip, crumbling with age but holding firm to whatever adhesive glues it to the paper. Again, that creeping smile, like thyme. Another entry is entirely about your hair, because it had brushed his arm. Only a few sentences made up that page, below the cursive a choppy sketch of your horse.

Certainly, Arthur stays busy in his head. You've always known as much, but never figured any of it was about you. Not like this, anyways, though the dates spread from the week before Blackwater and you can only wonder what laid in that journal he lost before.

"Oh, Arthur," you start, looking up from a third-way through, feeling giddy but not wanting him to watch you so intently while you finish them. No wonder he was shy. It's his heart. "You're so sweet."

"Finish readin' 'em," Arthur says, doesn't meet your eyes at first. When he does, they're gentle. "They get sweeter, y'know, better finish 'em. 'Cause of that."

He is nervous. Hardly moving, besides the tongue running over his teeth beneath his lips, and the rambling every time he opens his mouth. You don't mind, never have. He's endearing like this.

Outings you'd went on infrequently, the dates of his favorites underlined, you're noticing, based on the tone of his words in them; his worries and fears about courting you, and some of what you mean to him though, with its succinctness, you have a feeling he wouldn't dare put all of his genuine love to findable paper; things he likes about you, and one page where he admits that he cannot keep himself from documenting you in every other entry, which tells you this small collection is hardly everything. The previous entries turn over in your mind again, and you are struck on a random page for a moment as their meanings take hold, realizing they were especially sliced from his journal to show you.

The entries leading to the last are what set your mind and pulse ablaze. From the first appearance of the word marriage, you swallowed your idea of what may be coming — Arthur's breathing changing beside you doesn't help any, and it certainly does not help that he leans down once you've reached the last page, plucking it from your hands. Before he does, you notice quite a few crossed out lines, scribbles as if he were frustrated with not being able to find the right words.

"Think I've got the balls on me to read this one aloud, at the very least," he says, voice laced with a chuckle. Breath comes uneasy, but you collect yourself enough to gather the pages back into a neat, ordered stack in your lap. "Unless you'd rather spare me," he adds, nudges your knee with the toe of his shoe.

"No." Your voice sounds strange, even to you. "Do me the honors."

Arthur bites his cheek, nods and lets it fall as he smiles. Still, his hand finds the back of his neck, the page held between two fingers that remain surprisingly steady. The knife lingers in his hand beneath it, and isn't it just like him to propose holding a weapon.

Propose. It takes its first toll on you, rolls over your back in shards of tingling.

"December twenty-fifth, eighteen ninety-nine," he starts, eyes flicking to your face every other word until the intensity of your gaze must make him too anxious. "It's a nice little life, livin' with the one I love," — rubbing his mouth, sighing some — "Jesus, I always gotta be sappy." You laugh, though it comes out more forceful than you intended, and relax some until he continues. "The thought of another day where anythin' could happen 'n' we ain't bound is somethin' I hate."

Arthur pauses, stands up and places the journal entry on his chair. You take his hands when he holds them out to where you sit, grunting when he hauls you off the ground with more force than you expected, feet shuffling into place to stick all-too-close to his. His hands are burning, skin feverish when you grab his wrists, as if you'd ever want to stop him as he eases onto a knee before you.

And his eyes throw you off balance, too, catching the light just enough that you can tell they are stinging. So are your own, now that you think about it, but intelligent thoughts go out the window once you sense him about to speak.

"I wanna be 'til death do us part," Arthur confesses, fumbles to catch both of your hands in his in an awkward, squeezing hug of a hold.

The way your bones catch on one another, well— it's not a sensation you'll forget, like the first time he kissed you and you felt it still a week later, warm pressure on your mouth if you got too lost in the memory. He looks as good, looks so nice, and you know your fingers would be shaking if he weren't crowding them together, steady.

When he says your name, the blood is rushing through your ears too loud to hear it clearly; you almost want to ask him to do it again. "Will you marry me?"

Nodding, face slack before it spreads in a grin. "Yes," you say. "Of course I will."

His is hidden by how he lets go of your hands, catching them before they fall in stupid, limp joy back to your sides. He lays kisses along the knuckles, all three rows of them. It's so awfully saccharine and yet you could never tell him to quit being sweet— not now, not as he stumbles to his feet after you pull him up and shake off his hold to grab his face, tugging him into a kiss.

Arms come around your waist, squeeze tight enough to hurt, or to hold in place. Arthur runs a hand over your back, breaks the kiss to slide a hand into your hair and press your face to his chest, caging you in his arms. He smells warm, like good cologne, and you know he's been planning this.