#fic: mistletoe

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Sleeping, Dancing and Mistletoe

Summary: Logan x Fe!Reader -> Times when people found evidence that you and Logan were possibly a couple, and the one time you both finally confirmed it.

Disclaimer: Mostly fluff, mentions/illusions to sex, Logan checking you out. Couple of swear words here and there. This has been unfinished in my drafts for at least a week so...yeah. This is finished. little Christmas at the end. Not Proof Read.

For what felt like the thirtieth time in the hour, you turned over with a huff and pressed your pillow to your ears, trying to muffle the sounds coming from next door. 

And just as it finally died down, you sighed and was just about to thank some ancient being for hearing your prayers when…it started again. 

“That’s it.”

Changing out of your longer pyjama bottoms and into some sleep shorts, you made your way out of your room, keeping your footsteps as quiet as you could until the noises faded away and you started to reach your intended room. 

Opening up the door, you found exactly what you were looking for. 

Shaking his shoulder as he lay on his stomach, you whispered his name, hoping he’d hear you. 

“Logan.” You shook him for a third time. “Logan.” 

Nothing. 

With another sigh, you slapped his face gently and said his name once more, a little louder and firmer. 

“Logan.”

Finally, he groaned. “What?” 

His voice was muffled by his pillow but you could hear him just well enough. Or maybe you were just used to his grunts that they were starting to become their own language you could understand. 

“Move over. I’m sleeping here tonight.”

“What’s wrong with your bed?”

“Nothing.”

“Then go and sleep there.” Logan turned his head away from you and scrunched up his pillow beneath his head.

“I can’t. My neighbours have decided tonight is Valentine’s Day 2.0.”

You pushed half of his body with your hands until he finally got the cue to turn over. 

“Too much information.”

You shook your head, “Too much information is what I’ve been hearing for the last hour.”

Finally, Logan rolled onto his back, his covers covering his bottom half, and groaned. “Fine.”

“Thank you.”

Logan straightened himself in his bed, giving you room to get in beside him. And the minute you touched his covers, you were glad you had changed into shorts. 

Logan was like a furnace. Just constant heat radiating from his body and for as much as it, at times, got too hot to stand near him, he was also, in your opinion, the best person to fall asleep beside. 

“Just shut up and go to sleep.”

Laying on your side, it wasn’t long until you closed your eyes, thankful that you could hear nothing other than Logan’s steady breathing and the distant clock down the hall that was forever ticking. 

However, just before you fully drifted off, you felt Logan’s hand take hold of yours and you smiled. 

He could be gruff all he liked, but when it came to you, he could be a softie. 

By the time morning rolled around, Storm was in search of both yourself and Logan. So, when she found your bed empty and cold, she figured Logan would know where you were. 

But he was asleep. 

Right beside you. 

Storm leaned against the door frame for a while, taking in the picture in front of her. 

Logan was fast asleep, something that was a miracle in itself, with you right beside him, your head turned towards the windows in his room, his own looking towards you, all the while, his arm slung over your midsection and one of your own hands, holding his. 

“Storm- what are you- Oh.”

Jean looked inside. 

“Looks like someone had a good night.” She smiled before looking back at Storm. “Do you think we can finally ask if they’re together?”

“I’d say this is confirmation enough.”

You shifted in your sleep as did Logan, and the two girls hid behind the corner for a moment. 

You turned your head and the rest of your body towards Logan, all the while his arm held you in a stronger grip and pulled you towards him. 

It took you a moment but you finally opened your eyes, adjusting to the light before your vision finally cleared on a sleeping Logan. 

For a moment, you allowed the hand between you both to reach up and brush the stray hairs from his eyes. It was rare you ever got to see Logan this…calm. 

Serene. 

Rested. 

Unknowingly, you started to run your left thumb over Logan’s arm that still held onto you. 

Then his fingers twitched, running over the exposed skin at the bottom of your back. 

“Are you watching me sleep?” His voice was rough, the first words in the morning. 

“Not anymore,” you smiled, brushing the final parts of his hair out of his face. 

“Thanks for letting me stay.”

Then a cough came from the door. 

Logan groaned. “Is this a new hobby; watching people sleep?”

Jean and Storm laughed from the door. “You two look cosy.”

You lifted your head and glared at Jean. “There is one reason I’m here. Maybe I think it’s time you make an investment in soundproof walls.”

Jean turned a little red and Storm laughed. 

“Look, we’ve got a busy day. You can kiss your boyfriend later.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you called out just as Logan called; “She’s not my girlfriend.”

Storm and Jean nodded and just as Jean snapped a picture, she sent it to both yourself and Logan as they walked away. 

“Sure.”

Leaning up, Logan reached for his phone to see the notification pop up before he placed it back down and you climbed out of bed. 

“They’re got a point.”

“About us being a couple?”

You threw a t-shirt at Logan. “Having a busy day.”

Logan laughed a little, scrubbing his face as he watched you leave his room before he reached behind him and took hold of his phone once more. 

Jean and Storm were right. 

From the picture…they did look like a couple. 

A couple of days passed and you were sitting in the quiet living room, the fires on both sides roaring. 

All classes had been finished for two days and some kids had returned home for the holidays, which meant you had some free time on your hands. 

And for you, that meant finally reading. 

Until you sensed someone stood behind you. 

“If you want to know what happens, you could just ask me.”

Logan plucked the book from your hands and circled around the sofa before coming to sit down beside you. 

“Logan! Give it back.”

“I want to see what it’s about.”

You sighed and sat up, “It’s a romance, Logan.”

“A romance?” Logan had a hint of a smirk on his face. “Like the…trashy kind?”

“Like the romantic kind.”

Logan looked at you and smiled. “The trashy kind.”

You rolled your eyes and took the book back from him, leaving him to fix the blanket so it rested over both of you. He placed his arm over the back of the sofa, allowing you to lean into him, whether you noticed you were doing so or not. 

“Just because you might not believe in romance, doesn’t mean the rest of us are the same.”

“I believe in romance.” 

“Yeah, right.”

Logan couldn’t help but smile. “What?”

“The Wolverine,” you said with a deep voice. “Believes in romance?”

Logan nodded. “Occasionally.”

“Occasionally?”

“Do you just like repeating everything I say?”

You nodded and smiled. “Occasionally.”

Logan rolled his eyes and took the book back from you and read a line out loud. 

“People really talk like this?”

You leaned into Logan. “No, but in a book it’s not so bad. Go on, read some more.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

You nodded. “You’re like my own personal audiobook.”

Logan gave a short smile before getting a little cosier and continued reading out loud. 

It wasn’t long before Logan found you asleep against him and he shifted in order to avoid you getting a crick in your neck. 

“Keep reading.”

“I thought you were asleep.” 

“Now I’m awake.” 

“Fine, just be quiet.”

You gave a fake salute. “Yes, sir.”

Holding his arm around your body that was pressed between himself and the sofa, Logan quickly kissed the top of your head and went back to reading. 

And ten minutes later, you were asleep. 

And so was he. 

An hour passed before someone found either of you, but this time, it was Scott and Bobby. 

“They might be in- oh. What do we have here?”

“Oh my god, Rouge has to see this. I told her they were together.”

Bobby rushed off and soon returned, pulling Rouge with him. 

“What is it?” Then she gasped. 

“Believe me now?”

And what Rouge saw made her smile. 

On the slightly too small sofa for Logan, you lay both between him and the sofa, as well as partly on him with your hand a little over his heart. His head was turned towards you. The blanket had fallen a little, so she reached over and pulled it up both of you before turning around and throwing a log onto the fire. 

“Come on, let's leave them.”

“But-”

“No, you are not going to disturb them. Come on.”

Rouge dragged the pair out and closed the door behind her. 

The third time people suspected you and Logan were an item was one late evening in October. 

Half of the kids were playing outside with all the freshly fallen leaves, whilst some of the older kids helped them find different critters and point them out, and build them habitats. The rest of the kids were either in their rooms or studying. 

Save for two. 

Bobby and Rouge were hiding outside of the kitchen watching yourself and Logan cook. 

“I didn’t even know he knew how to…chop. Let alone cook.”

“You should have more faith in him.”

“Come on, Rouge. You can’t tell me you weren't thinking it, too.”

And she couldn’t. Because she was. 

Meanwhile inside the kitchen, Logan was watching you from the kitchen island as he continued chopping the veg. 

There was something different about you. From the way you practically danced around the kitchen finding the different items for the recipe, to just…you. Whilst he was (semi) shirtless, just having his zipper hoodie on, along with his jeans and socks. He would have been fully dressed, except you had come and ambushed him in his room – even though you denied the word “ambushed” – to get him to help. 

And you were just simply in your pyjamas (of sorts) along with one of his zipper hoodies. 

“Bub,”

Logan laid down his knife and walked over to you as you stood by the stove, standing a little higher to see how much water was left in the pot at the back. 

You hummed a questioned response, but was met with a question…you didn’t expect. 

“Dance with me?”

“What?”

Logan smiled lightly as he pulled the wooden spoon from your hand and pulled you closer to him, despite him walking backwards. 

“Come on,” his voice in a light whisper. “Dance with me.”

“Didn’t take you for a dancer.”

Outside the door, Bobby and Rouge mouthed to each other; “They’re dancing.”

And you both were. 

Gently swaying to the music for a while, you allowed Logan to lead you around a small space in the centre of the kitchen. 

“We’re gonna burn the sauce.”

Logan gave a slight smile at you as he spun you out and back in, “We’re not gonna burn the sauce.”

“Logan.”

“Can’t you ever just enjoy a moment?”

“When that moment doesn’t include burning the house down, yes.”

“Bit of a jump, don’t you think, from burning the sauce.”

“Ha, so you agree. We’re gonna burn the sauce.”

Moving over, Logan turned down the heat on one of the pans before taking your hand back into his. “Now we won’t.”

Bobby and Rouge watched, in shock, the rest. 

For one, Logan knew how to dance? Since when? And since when did he…cook and dance in the kitchen? Unless…

Then Logan did something even you didn’t expect. 

He dipped you. 

You hand tightened its grip on Logan’s arm as you let out a small, if a little nervous, laugh. 

Logan had been full of surprises recently. From the impromptu audiobook session in which you woke up in his arms, to him not only dropping off a cup of coffee during your break from teaching but also a freshly baked muffin. 

And now he was dancing with you in the kitchen. 

And dipping you. 

When you had rushed him out of his room to help you cook, you hadn’t expected him to know the recipe for the sauce from the top of his head. Something he just happened to rattle off whilst you were looking for the cooking notebook that should have been in the cupboard beside the oven. Let alone be the one to ask to dance in the kitchen, and dip you. 

Bring you back up, both of you gave a slight chuckle as you turned around, the music slowly fading away in the background. 

“Logan…”

Looking at him, you forgot what you were going to say. 

Had his eyes always had so much green in them? 

Logan’s palm became warm against your back as it pressed further into you. Or maybe you pressed further into him and he just held you tighter. 

Slowly, your hand left his bicep and trailed towards his chest all the while your eyes studied his face. You’d known him for years and seen him a thousand times or more. 

So why did now feel like you were seeing him for the first time? Noticing him? Noticing each particle he was made up of that allowed him to sway with you in the kitchen to the music that had changed on the radio?

Only, before the space between yourself and Logan became any more closer, a noise came from outside the door. 

A sneeze. 

A sneeze that shocked you and Logan back into reality. 

Still holding you, Logan looked towards the door and gave a hint of a smile when he saw the flash of white disappear behind the beam. 

Realising what was happening, you lowered yourself back to the ground and slowly stepped out of Logan’s arms. “We should finish up.”

Logan nodded in agreement, however did look back at you when you got back to the stove, not noticing you do the same a few moments later, watching him pick up the rest of the veg and toss it into the collider to be washed. 

Time passed and after more music, more conversation - including a burnt tongue from when you had shoved a wooden spoon with fresh sauce on, into Logan’s mouth for him to try - and a lot of scrubbing later, you found Logan sitting inside the library and collapsed next to him. 

“Good news, the kids loved the food,” you told Logan. “Double good news; Jean and Scott are on cooking duty tomorrow.”

“Thank fuck.”

“Thank you for helping me.” Turning to look at Logan, you found him already looking. 

“You did ambush me.”

“I didn’t ambush you.”

“I wasn’t dressed.” Logan examined himself. “Technically, I’m still not.”

You rolled your eyes with a slight smile. “Fine. Maybe it was a mini, tiny, miniscule ambush.” 

You made a small space between your fingers. “Like this big of an ambush.”

Logan looked at you, at your fingers and then back to you in slight disgust before moving your fingers wider with his own. 

“That big of an ambush.”

You rolled your eyes and dropped your hand. “And they say us women are dramatic.”

It was Logan’s turn to roll his eyes. However, as he did so, his arm wrapped around you, and pulled you back into him and the sofa. 

“Just shut the fuck up for a minute and listen.”

You did so. 

“I don’t hear anything.”

“That’s the point.” Logan’s eyes were shut as his head rested on the back of the sofa. 

Eventually you gave a shrug and joined him. 

An hour later, Storm found you both fast asleep beside one another so with a knowing smile, she found a blanket, covered you both up and closed the door behind her. But not before reminding herself she needed to get verbal confirmation from you both. 

She wasn’t handing over any money to Jean and Xavier until she had verbal confirmation of what exactly was going on between you two. 

And she didn’t have to wait long…at least in the long run, she didn’t have to wait long. 

Until then, there were plenty more incidents of falling asleep next to each other, bringing each other coffee, dancing to music in the kitchen, smiling and laughing – all before she finally got verbal confirmation that the inevitable had finally happened. 

Finally, it was acceptable to decorate for Christmas. 

Two days prior, Rogue, Logan and Storm had been helping you find all the old decorations in the attic and bring them down. Storm did try then to bribe something out of Rogue, but she apparently was just in the dark as the rest of them. 

But the smile she gave when she looked over at Logan, who was placing down another box from the back of the pile for you to take a look at, told Storm something different. 

“I can’t believe you leave it this late to decorate.”

Logan looked at you. “We’re still in November.”

“So?” 

Taking hold of the garland, you started to climb the ladder. Logan held onto the bottom just to be safe. 

“If you had it your way, the decorations would be up all year round.”

“Hey, no.”

“Hey, yes.”

“I’d take them down for…” you tried to think. “Halloween. You’d have a little break.”

Logan didn’t look entirely thrilled. “Halloween is one day.”

“Technically, it’s a month.”

“To you, it’s a month. To the rest of us, it’s a day.”

You looked back at him. “To you it’s a day, to the rest of us it’s a month.”

Then you looked back at the garland. “How does that look?”

“Great from where I’m standing.”

You looked a little confused for a second before quickly looking over your shoulder, realising where Logan was, in fact, looking. 

Not at the garland, but at your ass. 

You smiled and started to step down the ladder, hitting his shoulder on the way down. 

“I meant the garland.”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” Logan looked up. “Looks great.”

You laughed. “You didn’t even look.”

With a smile as you finally stepped back into his arm, he looked to the side and up. “It looks great.”

“Good. Now,” Logan turned back to look at you and you kissed him quickly. “We have to put up five more.”

“I get to watch you put up five more.”

You smiled. “This is why you’re my favourite person.”

Logan smiled. He could help you with everything else, but when it came to the garland, you had full control on where it went. Which, he didn’t mind. So long as he got to watch you put it up. 

You quickly kissed him once more, only to be pulled back when you tried to walk away. 

Then Logan gave you a real kiss. 

A little dizzy, you smiled and placed a hand on his chest and closed your eyes. “Wow.”

He gave you a quicker, lighter kiss. “You better get going before Rogue comes back with another box of lights.”

“Light?” Then it hit you. “Oh, yeah.”

Logan smirked a little as he watched you walk away and down the hallway. 

It was a couple of hours before everyone was in the same room, making the final touches all the while most of the other kids were either playing outside in the snow, were taking naps or decorating their own rooms. 

And the others had been watching you and Logan all day. 

The stolen glances, the stolen touches, the slightly knowing smiles from both Rogue and Bobby. And then, as Logan was helping you down from the ladder, his hand on your thigh, Bobby went to make the final hammer to hang up the mistletoe. 

“Wait, no. Not there.”

“Where then?”

Storm looked around. “I know. Y/n, hang this just above there. We don’t need a remake of Mistletoe Central 1997.”

Logan looked at Storm. “Do I wanna know?”

Storm shook her head. “Here.”

She handed you the mistletoe before Logan passed you the hammer back from his belt. 

Three knocks and the nail was set in and the mistletoe was above you on a corner beam, just a little to the side of the christmas tree. 

At least this way, those looking for it, would find it. 

"Oh, no, wait.” Jean said, looking at you. “Have to kiss someone. It’s tradition. You’re under the mistletoe.”

There was no one else apart from Logan.

Logan looked around at the others. He wondered how long it would take. 

Coming up behind you on the ladder, you moved over for him to stand beside you. His palm on your back held you steady and, leaning his other arm on the ledge of the ladder, his hand cupped your face and he kissed you. 

Lasting a little longer than the others had expected, you soon heard Rogue giving a little cheer, as well as a couple of whistles from the others. 

“Okay, I think they get it.” You whispered to Logan as he finally pulled away, a smile very noticeable on both of your faces. 

“Happy now?” Logan asked, turning towards where Jean and Scott were standing. 

“That was some kiss.”

You felt yourself blush at the comment. As did Logan. 

He helped you back down the ladder before you both turned and really saw the other's expression. As well as the exchanging of money between people. 

“Sooo…how long has this been going on?”

You were leaning into Logan, his hand around your back and on your hip. 

You looked at Logan, “A couple of months. We’re…what? November now so that would…”

“That would…” Logan counted back in his head. “May…June, July…six months.”

You looked back to the others. “Six months.”

A chorus of shocked faces and loud voices sounded out; “SIX MONTHS?!”

All before a small call from Rogue was made, which made both yourself and Logan smile. 

“I knew it!”

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

themthemthemthemthemthemthem-

[finelinevogue]

Hi ellie! happy first day of the Christmas month!! I hope you are all cozy and comfy at home!

The other day I saw a super cute video from this tiktok couple cam.and.mal, where he puts up mistletoe everywhere in the house (like every door way, fan, light etc.) so they will always be kissing, thought that's super cute :))

loooove your writing by the way!! Your masterlist has always been my little comfort corner, sending love and hugs!!

christmassy kisses

hi!!! omg happy 1st day of christmas and thank you so much for the request <333 this is such an adorable idea and i am on it right now <333 p.s. you’re amazing xo

word count : -600

pairing : youtuber!reader x harry

As soon as you walked through the front door you were stopped.

You noticed Harry first, of course, in his hoodie and joggers. Behind him was your editor, Pippa, holding up her phone to film you two.

“What’s going on?” You asked suspiciously.

“Look up, babe.” Harry said.

You tilted your head up, expecting some slime or paint to fall, but instead there was some fake mistletoe.

“Mistletoe?” You asked, opening the door wider.

Harry didn’t let you in very far though, making sure you waited in the doorway.

“Guess we’ll have to kiss then.” Harry shrugged his shoulders and cupped your cheeks, bringing you towards him for a proper kiss. Not too intense, seeing as Pippa was here and she’s probably filming content for you.

“Interesting welcome home.” You laughed, smiling at Harry who looked very pleased with himself.

“It’s only because it’s Christmas, and I love you.”

You shut the front door behind you as you walked in, taking note of how Harry and Pippa are still standing around and looking suspicious.

“Seriously, what are you two up to?”

You took off your coat and hung it up on the coat hanger, before walking to the bedroom to change into a comfier hoodie - preferably one of Harry’s.

When you approached your bedroom door, you noticed the mistletoe hanging above it too.

“What the —”

“Don’t worry, i’ll kiss you again.” Harry smiled and leant down to kiss you again. He looked super chuffed with himself, like his plan was succeeding or something.

“H, bub, have you hung up mistletoe everywhere just so you have the excuse of kissing me?” You asked, standing close to him with Pippa still filming.

“Maybe.”

Instead of responding, you ran to find the next one. You stood under the en-suite bathroom door and patiently waited for Harry to come over.

He laughed once he caught on to how eager you were, becoming more eager himself. He gladly wandered over to you and gave you a loving kiss, filled with giggles.

“Best idea ever.” You praised him.

“Why?”

“We get to kiss more than ever!”

“We already do, baby.” Harry laughed, hugging you against his body tight to embrace all your sunshine energy.

“But this time they’re Christmassy kisses.” You argued.

“You’re right, m’love. I’ll give you all the Christmassy kisses you could ever want.”

“Deal.” You said, running off to find the next piece of mistletoe.

[fanaticsnail]

Something Like That

Masterlist here, Request link and mood board here.

Word Count: 4,048

Hi everyone! This is the last x-mas fic I can push out before my time away over the holiday period interstate. I hope you enjoy reading for our boy Zoro. Thank you @sordidmusings for keeping me motivated! Merry Christmas, Anon! Just in case it peaks your interest @gingernut1314

Warnings: Fluff, Christmas, talks of battle scars, kissing, dancing

Just like all of the times you had ventured to Baratie, this time had every intention of being no more than passing time with delicious food. The floating restaurant atop a mighty ship was your favorite stop-off on your way home to Lougetown to visit with your extended family; the food’s glowing reputation almost did justice to the divine quality and the accompanying drinks were what dreams were made of. The fact that the staff was comprised of reformed pirates also held an appeal, considering your ties to that lifestyle as a skilled archer.

Bidding farewell to the vessel you had bartered onto for voyage, you heard a strange amount of merriment floating melodically from the wide fish-mouth at the bar lounge of the grand restaurant. You furrowed your brows, arching one up as curiosity held you captivated by the songs seeping to the surface with a wide array of demonstrated skill. Some vocals were sung blissfully, others shouted with no skill depicted within their throats. 

Taking deliberate steps with your bow in hand, quiver strapped firmly against your waistbelt and traveling satchel thrown over your shoulder, you sauntered to the grand doors and lobby of the restaurant to meet the matradee. He welcomed you with a broad smile, which rose to sit comfortably and warmly, peaking at the apples of his cheeks. His regular white formal garb was replaced with a deep emerald green dinner jacket, a small bushel of pointed leaves with red shimmery berries strung together by twine.

“Welcome back to Baratie!” He exclaimed with glee, “I have your usual table awaiting you.” He gestured a guiding hand to the right and indicated for you to follow his direction to the bottom of the twirled staircase.

Your confusion seemed to set in further as you took in your surroundings. The usual bare bars of the railing were ornately decorated with vines of sharpened, needle-like sprigs and small warm lights shining amongst the shrubbery akin to starlight. Your gaze was drawn upwards, noticing a small and sporadic assortment of floral clusters clinging to the roof and down the pillars of the supporting canopy. The bunches were of pale sage green, floating romantically down and arching their spindles out to grasp the pearled white flowers amongst the greenery.

As your gaze fell to rest upon the circular room, you noticed individuals joining against each other in embraces of romantic twirling and swaying. Their voices would raise to join with the tune regardless of how skilled they were to carry the tune, prompting you to raise an apprehensive smile to your lips.

“What is going on, sir?” you asked the fishman matradee as he chaperoned you to your regular table, “this all seems rather strange and unusual for a Monday afternoon, don’t you think?” Your tone of playful jest prompted him to chuckle in response, pulling out your chair for you to sit within your corner booth. Wordlessly, he took your bow and satchel while you unstrapped your quiver to disarm yourself to place your valuable items to be placed in the cloakroom.

“One of our kitchen-hands has returned to us, settling his dining debt from his time with us,” the matradee informed you, a playful twinkle drawn up to his eye, “and in celebration, we’re attempting to showcase a custom he had picked up on his travels.”

You hummed in response with a polite nod, brows raising with interest as you pulled your gaze over to view the diners amongst the crowd. Noticing jovial laughter and an uproar of cheers, you pulled your gaze to seek out its source. A young man with a straw hat atop dark loose curls immediately captured your attention, his eyes upturned and jaw hanging wide as he allowed another heartily laugh escape from his chest. His arms were hooked around the necks of two of his companions, drawing them in closer to his chest; a woman with short orange hair clutched within his right arm, while a bandana-clad man with a similar cheery expression lay gathered within his left.

Scanning over the remainder of the party members surrounding him, your eyes first drew to examine the tall, blonde companion. His hair skewed the view of his left eye, but what you could make of his right; he was a delight to look at. After holding your eyes against the blonde for longer than you truly thought appropriate, your eyes met with the final stranger of the party. His dark hazelnut orbs immediately locked on your probing gaze, bearing a protective intensity, his moss-coloured locks raised without much care as to which direction the strands fell.

As his eyes continued to hold your attention, you stared him down to reciprocate his wordless challenge. His brows furrowed briefly before a wolf-like grin rose to his lips, smirking up to the right-hand side of his face with an air of arrogance. Training as a skilled archer had drilled the practice of continual focus on a multitude of targets. This small challenge set your heart alight with a similar thrill to hunting a foe, the green-haired man not shying away from your attention and focus.

He was captivating. His air of protection and loyalty to his companions transferred without question of translation. You watched as he drew his dominant hand to fall to rest against a white blade hilt at his side, his wrist hanging limply against the handle atop the scabbard. He arched his left brow up at you and gestured with his chin, indicating to you that he would not shy away from a fight if one was to be offered to him. You arched up your brow with your own smirk, gesturing lightly with your hands over your torso and falling down to your waist; indicating you were currently unarmed.

Without breaking your gaze from his challenge, you reached your hand below the white tablecloth, shielding your hand from retrieving an item from your handbag beside you. You let out an audible laugh as you watched him fix his posture more upright, his smirk falling from his lips as his frown deepened in partial alarm. After feeling the hard object you were searching for, you raised it to no longer be obscured from view and rotated it within your hands to demonstrate how non-threatening the item was.

His face immediately dropped at his idiocy as his eyes took in the novel you were holding within your hands, closing his eyes and having a small smile rise to his lips. As soon as his eyes closed and soft chuckle fell from his lips, you relished in the knowledge that he was the first to back away from the intense wordless challenge he initiated with his eyes, indicating that you had won the small victory. 

While his eyes were closed, you fully examined his face. Eyes first shamelessly raking over his hair, trailing down and over his closed eyes and settling on his parted lips. His coy smile now completely risen against his lips held a foreign beauty, the creases of his cheeks indicating such softness was not a common occurrence. He was intriguing, someone you would have considered pursuing should you have had more time between your usual meal at Baratie and the upcoming ferry you had booked to shepherd the remainder of your journey. 

You shook your head, uncaring whether he would meet his intense gaze against yours again as you opened the pages of the novel you had begun reading on your journey out to sea, picking up where you last left off. The words whittled within the pages were of a variety of archery techniques and forms, a gift bestowed upon you by your favorite uncle - the one you held the most joy in rejoining with in Lougetown. 

A gentle cough interrupts the passage you were skimming, drawing your attention up to the waiter beside you. He placed down in front of you a seasonal beverage, the steam rising from the rim wafting towards your nose to envelop your senses with its rich, velvety and creamy scent. You thanked the waiter as he placed an accompanying biscotti beside the treat, the crumbled texture littering the small side dish with pebbles of its buttery substance. 

Reaching towards the handle, you raised the drink to your face, gently parting your lips and circling them to blow on the scorching liquid. After relinquishing your gentle blows to your particular satisfaction, you drew up the mug and took a quick sip of the contents. Immediately flooded by the indulgent flavor of the caramelized chocolate mixing with the creamy and decadent texture of the frothed milk. You sighed, breathing out your pleasure at being once again welcomed by the perfect combination of flavors offered to you at Baratie. Placing down again onto the circular, ceramic dish, you lifted your novel to continue reading from the last page you left of; blissfully ignorant or willfully ignoring the intense pair of eyes continuing to hold firm their locked gaze upon you.

“Something the matter, Zoro?” the Straw-Hat captain asked from beside the swordsman, clutching the bone of a perfectly prepared tomahawk steak within his right hand while chewing on the sinew, “you’ve been staring at that table for a long time now.” The swordsman remained quiet, not truly hearing the words spoken to him.

“”M’fine, Captain,” He mumbled. It was true, he had become entranced by the person he was currently inspecting. His bewitchment had only intensified as he witnessed your knowing and examining gaze falling to seek out the loud and joyous laughter falling in the air of the surroundings. You had to be a hunter, by the looks of you: whether it be seeking bounties, hunting animals or contesting mark-matching with the bow you allowed the fishman to leave with. 

“You sure there, Moss-Head?” Sanji taunted him, his signature smirk ruffling the temperament of the swordsman further, “you seem awfully focussed on the-... -Oh. Oh, they’re quite pretty, aren’t they?” Zoro snapped his gaze up to focus on the chef whose head was now shamelessly pointed directly at you, eyes searching your body and examining him the way Zoro was trying hard not to. 

“What of it, waiter?” he growled in a disinterested snarl. Sanji slowly dragged his gaze from your body over to face the swordsman once more, eyes darkening with a challenging intensity. 

“I think they’re very pretty, indeed,” Sanji’s exposed brow twitched in an upturned flirtatious suggestion. Usopp smirked, leaning in on his elbows to get a better view of the show Sanji was absolutely going to engage against the swordsman while Nami shook her head. Rolling her eyes, she sat back to rest her shoulders against the plush booth, tilting her head down to shield her smirk to remain hidden in her expression of amusement at their rivalry. 

“I think they’re so pretty, in fact,” Sanji snuck another glance at you, watching as you pursed your lips while turning another page of your novel, “I think I’m going to ask them to dance the next round.”

“What’d you say, waiter?” Zoro tilted his head, attempting to hold his composure and feign disinterest at the challenge. The subtle gruff anchor of his voice gave him away, Zoro winced at his own vocal tone. Sanji chuckled at the failed attempt, choosing to draw his elbows against the table and cradle his chin to rest atop his laced fingertips. 

“It’s not like you’re man enough to ask her to dance, anyway,” Sanji’s smirk rose into a broader grin, relishing in Zoro’s physical reaction of sharpening his posture to rise against the jab. The blonde chef chuckled darkly, drawing his lips to press against his fingertips before suggesting with another jab: “Someone like that looks like they’d prefer to be held in the arms of a real man, not something like you, Demon.”

“I’ll let the two of you know when I see one,” the orange-haired navigator murmured in a low tone, her voice immediately capturing the attention of the two bickering crewmates. Usopp feigned pain, clutching at his heart briefly before nodding in confirmation of her comments: both flinging their heads back in unbridled laughter at the motion. Luffy continued to remain blissfully ignorant, finally sucking at the large bone to rid the object from all edible elements of the dish while offering a small laugh of his own. Although he truly had no idea why they were laughing at that moment, he was happy his crew was getting along - to the best of his knowledge, anyway.

That was the occasion after all: merriment and joyfulness being the central point of the entire reason for this celebration. Sanji and Zoro turned back to face each other again, eyes bearing an electric intensity as they met their rival’s challenge. 

“No,” Zoro gruffly growled, his lips curling in a small snarl. Sanji arched his head to stretch out his neck, eyes closing as he felt a gentle ‘pop’ and sighing in reaction. 

“You gonna actually approach them and ask them to dance?” Sanji lazily taunted him, his smirk returning, “or am I going to get there first?”

At that final nudge, Zoro was away from the table and almost stomping his heavy boots against the polished floorboards like a chastised toddler. Sanji chuckled at the response, reaching forward to claim a portion of the confit potatoes to place on his plate. 

“I gotta know, man,” Usopp leant in towards Sanji, his broad smile rising to his cheeks, “were you that interested in them, or just wanted to get a rise from Zoro? I can never tell with you.”

“That’s my secret, Great Captain Usopp,” Sanji’s left corner of his lip curled up in a smirk with a playful glimmer in his eye returning, “I’m always interested in getting a rise out of him. Beautiful strangers are always a bonus. My favorite is when those two things are not mutually exclusive,” he chuckled, collecting an assortment of ingredients on his fork and raising the utensil up to his lips, “two birds with one stone, and all that.”

The thud of heavy boots alerted you to a figure closing the distance between themselves and your body. The thumps of the hard boots against the polished floor reverberated with a sense of danger. Patiently, with a sigh exiting your parted lips, you placed a small piece of parchment back into your novel to tab the chapter and slowly turned to look at the approaching figure. 

“Can I help you?” you asked, a bored tone with a subtle air of cautious warning befalling your cadence. As you drew your eyes up, you noticed the same intense gaze from earlier falling to meet your sat position on the table. His eyebrow seemed to twitch, indicating slight agitation as his jaw was clenched tightly shut. Cocking your head to the side, you allowed a partial softness to grace your features as you danced your eyes between focussing on each of his hazelnut orbs.

“I-, uh-,” the man was stumbling over his words, unable to string a sentence of cohesion together. He raised his hand to the scruff of his neck, pinching the flesh with his calloused hands and grimacing at his expression. 

“You?” you cooed up at him, a smirk rising once more to your lips. You shook your head, hair dancing at the small sway of movement. Your attention was once again captivated by him; the arrogant energy you had initially met your gaze with was dismantled under his apprehensive aura. 

Zoro had every intention of proving how much of a ‘real man’ he was to his crew, although not so much of a display in masculinity; but more of a need to not allow Sanji the pleasure or satisfaction of flirting with someone so enchanting as you. He was going to simply offer his hand to you, smirk in a gesture to ask you to join him on the dance floor and parade you in front of his crew. But alas, as soon as his eyes met with yours once again; he felt helpless and small under your huntress eyes.

“Well, are you going to stand there all rigid, swordsman?” you taunted, reclining in your seat and resting your elbow atop the backrest, “Or are you going to take a seat?”

Again, Zoro found himself taken aback by your direct approach. He followed your index and middle finger as you gestured to the empty seat in front of you. He shook his head a little to rid him of his prior bewilderment and then apprehensively moved to withdraw the chair to take a seat. You took him in, watching his deliberate movements in the way he sat atop the chair: every action intentional. As he sat, he offered no conversation other than broody silence. His eyes would flitter over to check-in on his prior dining companions and grimacing as his gaze was met with taunting gestures from his crew.

“Friends of yours?” you asked him, brow arched and reaching for the handle of your mug. 

“Something like that,” he uttered in a gruff tone, arms folding abrasively over his chest. You chuckled at his tone, taking a small sip from your mug and eyeing him deliberately. 

“Care to share further, or would you prefer having another wordless exchange?” you placed the empty cup back down on the dish and offered another challenging smile. He snapped his eyes back to yours and his smirk rose again to his lips. 

“They’re my crew,” his rumbly chuckle was withheld in his chest beneath his smirk, “I like half of them, but respect the lot of them.”

You hummed in response, index finger dancing atop the rim of your relinquished mug of hot chocolate. “Would you like to tell me more? I’m all ears about the ones you like and the ones you’re less fond of.”

Over the course of the next few hours, the swordsman and you would swap tales of travels throughout the East Blue and the Grand Line. Foes bested, beasts conquered and sorrows overcome: the tales of injuries you had both granted to opponents and received at the hands of them. He leant back against the back of his chair and slowly unbuttoned his shirt and hooked his fingers within the collar and hemline of his shirt to draw it back to showcase proudly to you. You felt your breath hitching in your throat at not only the physique of the swordsman, but in awe at the large healed mark slashed across his torso. You felt utterly ill-seasoned with your smaller indents of arrows and thrown dagger marks littering your shoulders. As you hooked your middle finger in your left shoulder strap and coyly revealed the small silver, healed markings, Zoro was held captivated by the marks to showcase your tales of battle. 

Enamored, awestruck and enchanted; you both held a small lilt of encaptured silence, leaning in on your forearms against the white tablecloth and gazing into the eyes of one another. Respecting your mutual combatant skill, both you and Zoro’s eyes fell half-lidded in adoration as you held each other’s undivided attention. 

The music and merriment fell into a slow tune, reflective of the seasonal tradition Baratie was attempting to celebrate with succession. Zoro was the first to break the silence between you, placing his left hand on the table with his palm up.

“Would you wanna dance?” he asked, his drawl gruff but attempting to remain polite in his request. You smiled, reaching your right hand to fall within his own, his hand immediately circling around your fingers firmly. His thumb circled over your four fingers, caressing his calloused and experienced hands over your skin.

“You don’t seem like much of a dancer, Zoro,” you commented, both rising to your feet. He drew you in close. Keeping his left hand extended upwards, and raking his right over the mid of your back to draw your torso flush with his, he uttered: “I’m not, but it seemed appropriate. Considering the holiday, and all.”

“Ah, yes. We never did quite get to discussing what all this,” you gestured with your chin, smiling at the decorations surrounding the room, “was all about.”

“I’m not really sure on the minor details,” he shrugged, awkwardly swaying you to the music, “Cap’n just said something about different traditions needing to be incorporated. Something about food, music, dancing, and decoration-...-oh. Oh, no-.”

You furrowed your brows, looking up at the roof to follow after his risen gaze. A small sprig of white, pearled flowers hung over your heads, accompanied by sage-coloured oblong leaves wrapped in ribbons of satin and twine. You cocked your head, left brow raising in curiosity at the flowers and their significance. Drawing your gaze back to the swordsman in front of you, you noticed he was stooping himself all the more closer to you.

“What are you doing, swordsman?” you questioned, halting him in his descention towards you. 

“This is one of those traditions,” he said, unlacing your right hand from his left and wordlessly asking with his eyes for permission to cradle your cheek within his palm. You looked at the hand first, then drew your eyes back up to meet his intense gaze. Smiling, you placed your cheek into his awaiting palm while holding his gaze firmly against your own. 

“Touching a stranger’s face beneath strange flowers is a strange tradition,” you furrowed your brows at him once more in curiosity.

“Kissing them beneath strange flowers,” he corrected you, leaning to join his lips immediately against your own. A small squeak fled from your lips, eyes widening as you felt the intensity falling from his chapped lips onto your own.

This was not how you pictured your return to Baratie to go at all. Sure, you had dreamed of meeting a handsome stranger and sharing an embrace with them. The stars just never aligned for you in any way that drew you close enough to share a kiss with them, only ever moments of story swapping or sharing a meal or two with many travelers accompanying you. 

You allowed yourself to become relaxed into the embrace, reaching your hands up to circle his neck below the assortment of flowers. His brows furrowed in concentration as he inhaled sharply through his nose in reaction to your reciprocation. You smiled, closing your eyes and tickling the scruff of his neck beneath your fingertips; lacing his untamed sea-sprayed locks within them. He expertly opened your mouth to taste more of your lips by angling his chin upwards against your own. A small groan rumbled within his chest, passing from his mouth to fall against your own as he continued to cradle you against himself.

Reluctantly, you pulled away from his embrace with your eyes remaining closed. You felt a small pause falling with his next actions, before you felt a warm forehead press against your own. You reopened your eyes, your half-lidded and lazy smile mirrored against the face of the swordsman you just shared a kiss with. 

Interrupting your embrace, an announcement was called over the speakers. The crackle of cables and wires sprung to life within the metal relay, alerting you with a vocal command: “The next vessel to Lougetown has arrived. All those traveling to Lougetown, report to the peer with your documents. Next vessel to Lougetown will depart in twenty minutes.”

“That’s me, unfortunately,” you sighed, eyes remaining closed but lips drawn up in a wide smile. 

“Business in Lougetown?” Zoro’s whisper rumbled within his chest. 

“Something like that,” you withdrew your forehead from its place resting against his own, “much akin to your crew, although I’m held attached by biological relation.”

“Anyone I’d know?” Zoro smirked, eyes remaining partly glazed over enamored by your small daliance. 

“I never ‘name drop’, swordsman,” you cooed up at him while unlacing your arms from his embrace, “but if you’re in the general area,” you retrieved your belongings from your table and laced your handbag and novel over your shoulder, “I’ll be at the G-5 Marine Base with my uncle for the next month for training.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” he smirked, eyes upturning to indicate his joy at the thought of meeting with you once again.

[robbie-verse]

robin who is so so so over steddie's pining bullshit so in one last ditch effort holds a mistletoe above their heads and eddie notices first, sees steve slowly turning and just straight up PANICS because he /knows/ steve is super duper straight and no matter how many times robin has told him to shoot his shot since he confessed his crush to her so eddie does the best next thing he can think of and just CHOMPS the mistletoe from robins hands and eats it while avoiding eye contact with steve

[sunarots]

under the mistletoe

pairings: osamu miya x fem!reader

summary: you and osamu always dread christmas with his family. they get way too into the holiday and are always asking you both invasive questions about your relationship. and this year, you’re dreading it for a different reason.

warnings: strong language, reader’s pregnant.

christmas masterlist

“Do you think we can pretend we’re sick?” Osamu asks, packing the wrapped presents into the large carrier bag. He looks over at you as you carefully place the strawberries on top of the cake.

You smile, looking over your shoulder at him. “I wish. They’d move the dinner here.”

He sighs, checking the time on his phone as he wanders over to you. “I know,” he mumbles, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Just want today to be us.” Osamu’s hands rest on your stomach, his chin on your shoulder.

“I know. Me too.” You look down at the cake, setting the last strawberry on its top and placing your hands on top of his. “At least we can tell them. Two months, yeah? That’s when we can do it?”

He smiles, kissing your cheek. “Yeah. I’m excited. I’m ready. Are you?”

You laugh. “I’m shitting myself, but…yeah. Yeah, I’m ready.” You turn around to face him, taking his face in your hands and pulling him towards you for a quick kiss before pulling away. “Sorry, there’s cream on your cheek.”

He shakes his head with a playful roll of his eyes, wiping his cheek with his finger and licking the cream from it. “Can’t take ya anywhere,” he teases, slapping your ass. “Go get ready, love.”

You take off your apron, giving Osamu one last glance over your shoulder to watch him place the cake inside of the cold box. You hang it over the hook on the kitchen door and hurry to the bedroom to quickly change into the dress Osamu had bought for you.

When you return five minutes later, Osamu has already moved everything to the car except from one small box sat on top of the kitchen island beside the ultrasound pictures. It’s wrapped with a delicate red ribbon tied into a small bow. Osamu’s leaning against the counter by the fridge, snacking on the leftover strawberries.

“Don’t fill yourself up before dinner, honey,” you remind him, taking your jacket from his hands.

He smiles down at you in the dress he got you. “You look gorgeous.” He kisses the top of your head, assisting you in pulling on your coat.

“Thanks. I love the dress, ‘Samu. Who’s the box for?”

He picks it up before you can grab it and smiles at you. “Oh, it’s not important. Are you ready, my love?”

You eye him up and down suspiciously, picking up the ultrasound pictures from the table as you lesd him towards the door. “You’re acting very strange today. Are you alright?”

He shrugs his shoulders, locking the house behind him and headed to the car. “I’m great. Just dreading this.”

Though you’re not entirely convinced, you slide into the passenger seat of the car and drop the subject. The drive to his parents’ house is a short one, the silence filled by the Christmas songs on the radio you both sing along to softly. He doesn’t remove his hand from your thigh until he has to, pulling into the driveway and seeing Atsumu’s black sports car already there.

“Are we late?” you ask, looking at the time on your phone. “Why’s he so early?”

Osamu shrugs his shoulder and turns the engine off, looking over to you. He gives you an anxious smile. “Ade you ready?”

You shake your head. “Never. But let’s do this.”

He laughs, giving you a quick peck on the lips before you both climb put of the car. You grab the cake from the backseat as Osamu takes the gifts from the trunk, and you walk in side by side.

“Oh, ma! Don’t get started on me! It’s Christmas!” Atsumu exclaims from the kitchen. “It’s complicated, ya know that!”

Osamu enters first, setting the bag on the floor by the living room before meeting everyone in the kitchen. “Oi, don’t yell at her on Christmas, ‘Tsumu,” Osamu scolds, taking the cake from your hands carrying it over to the fridge. He sets it on an empty shelf and greets his mum with a hug.

“Tell her to stop invadin’ my privacy.” Atsumu pats you on the back as a greeting.

“Only when ya start acting like an adult,” Osamu retorts, removing your jacket for you. “Uh, we have some news for you guys. Is dad around?”

“He’s sleeping, not feeling too great. Everything okay, sweetheart?”

You bite back your smile, wrapping your arm around Osamu’s as he pulls the pictures from your handbag. “We’re having a baby.”

Osamu grins, turning the photos around to show his family on your cue. His mother’s eyes go wide and she immediately breaks out in a smile. Her arms open and she immediately hugs you both with an excited scream.

“Oh, thats amazing! I’m going to have a grandbaby!” She gasps, spinning to look at Atsumu. “You’re going to be an uncle!”

“An…uncle?” He manages to snap himself out of his daze, and grins. “Congratulations!” He laughs and brings you both in for an embrace. “Uh, I just realised I left yer gift at my place, so I’m gonna run and grab it. Congrats on the baby!”

Neither you nor Mrs. Miya linger on Atsumu’s abrupt disappearance, it was Osamu who tried to argue. Unfortunately for him, his brother was already out the door. He sighs, dropping his head and giving a weak agreement to whatever his mother just said.

“‘Samu, what’s the matter?” you ask softly when his mother’s turned her back and carrying on with preparing the dining room for dinner. “Atsumu always runs off on Christmas for an hour or two before we eat.”

Osamu shrugs his shoulders and gives you another smile that doesn’t ease your worries. “It’s… No reason, baby. Here, let’s go help ma.”

He takes your hand and pulls you through his family home towards the dining room, pointing you in the direction of a black box filled with ornaments needing hung on the walls.

You never understood why Osamu’s mother always waited until Christmas day to hang most of the other decorations. You assumed it was so she could spend more quality time with everyone whilst waiting for someone to pick up the order, typically Atsumu or her husband.

You grab a piece of tinsel and drape it above the pictures of the twins when they were younger. A red one goes above the twins when they were babies, cradled in their parents’ arms. A purple one goes above them when they won their first competition in volleyball together. A gold one hangs above them in their high school uniforms, clutching a trophy with proud smiles. You hang a silver one above the first family portrait you were featured in at one of their relative’s weddings. You’re sat at the table with them all, Osamu’s arm wrapped around your shoulders. He’s clearly whispering something in your ear, and you’re laughing at whatever it was he was saying.

“Is that everything?” Osamu asks you, gesturing to the box. You take a glance and pick up the piece of mistletoe sat at the bottom of the box. Its crumbled from the weight of everything on top of it, but it’s still intact. “Oh, hang that here.” He taps the top of the doorframe to the dining room and smiles at you, passing you a tac.

You roll your eyes. “Yes, because I will have much more ease reaching it than you.” Osamu chuckles, watching as you struggle a little to pin it. “There. Happy now?” You spin around to face him, furrowing your eyebrows when he’s not at your eye level.

His mum stands behind where he was with her camera out, recording you. You look down at Osamu, holding out the box with the red ribbon around it. He smiles up at you, holding the box out towards you. “Open it, love.”

You don’t entirely trust what you see before you, using one hand to carefully undo the ribbon keeping it shut. You wait for him to nod his head before opening the box, revealing a delicate diamond ring inside.

“Will you marry me?”

[amywritesthings]

mistletoe (on the clock.) / nanami x you

pairing: nanami kento x f!reader word count: 1.7k summary: It's your annual holiday party at the office. You and your coworker Nanami Kento end up in a precarious yuletide predicament. tags: mistletoe, holiday office party, explicit language, sexual tension, hair pulling, kissing, make corporate speak horny in this house

part of the twelve days of amymas 2023 !!!

Office holiday parties shouldn’t be mandatory.

Eight, sometimes bordering up to twelve, hours under fluorescent lights was more than enough anguish — add four extra mandatory 'fun' hours and you see why half of your colleagues spend their nights bar hopping to cope.

However, if these annual holiday parties weren't mandatory, most of your colleagues would never bother showing up in the first place.

You sure as hell wouldn’t.

(And you're pretty sure the tall blonde you spy from across the room wouldn’t, either.)

It’s only your first year with the company, but it’s already one year too many.

You'd taken a few gap years between college to figure your shit out, travel a little, but you still ended up in the grand corporate scheme.

The nine-to-five lifestyle is nothing less than soul sucking. Commuting back and forth is such a pain. 

By the time you make it back to your tiny one-bedroom flat, the night is too cold to enjoy anything beyond your warm bed.

But... there are perks to the job, sometimes.

Free lunches are great.

Business connections don't hurt.

Not to mention you've grown fond of one person who makes your commute a little tolerable:

Tall. Blonde. High cheekbones. Voice as smooth as honey.

Nanami Kento.

Stoic on the outside yet considerably kind on the inside, Nanami has equal parts ruined and consumed your days.

The sheer sight of him in his tailored suits without a strand of hair out of place can make you weak in the knees, so you make it a point to always talk to him sitting down.

And he seems to like you, for what it’s worth.

Nanami always makes sure to bring you tea and water in the morning to stay hydrated.

He stops by your cubicle to tell you there's free catering in the break room if you missed the memo.

No matter how late you end up staying, he always makes it a point to never let you walk to the train station alone.

It’s sweet.

It’s more than what anyone else has ever done for you in your life, so naturally?

You're into him.

Bad.

Of course, that means you’re too chicken to invite him over for dinner.

God knows you can’t cook a decent course to save your life, but you’d order in — it’s only one string away from officially asking him on a date, masked as a favor repaid.

('Tis the damn season; it may be your time to take a little leap of faith if he's going to be standing there all alone for this insufferable party.)

Emboldened by the spiked eggnog in your system, you decide to jump:

You make a beeline through the crowds of laughing colleagues, all varying stages of intoxicated, straight to him.

In truth, you're eager to blend as a wallflower beside him.

Nanami almost instantly catches you in the crowd, but he makes no motion to meet you in the middle.

He moves a pace to the right, silently offering you the corner to hide in.

You have to be brave.

You have to make the first real move.

(Attractiveness aside, it's just Kento. He must be at the end of his social battery, too.)

“Hey,” you greet.

“Hello,” he replies, smooth as butter.

“Having the time of your life over here?” you joke, pressing your back into the wall.

He hums in a noncommittal fashion. “At the very least, this party is much more tame than the one they threw last year.”

“Is it?”

Kento nods. “Someone overserved. Shirts flew. Marriages shattered.” His strong brow furrows. “Though I wanted to ask, even though I've been here longer: has Mr. Hiro always been a happy drunk? I recall differently.”

“No, that’s a fairly new development. His wife finally finalized the divorce last week,” you gossip under your breath. “I had to field the call myself.”

“Oh?” Nanami asks, turning a sharp chin your way. “Ugly?”

“Very.”

“To call and finalize over the phone at the office is—”

“Ballsy.”

A sly smile tugs at the corner of his lip. “I was going to say a choice, but sure.” 

Nanami clinks his ceramic ‘work hard, play harder ’ slogan mug to yours — a past gag gift from that Gojo Satoru friend of his, you’re sure — and pushes his body from the wall. 

“Do you need a refill?”

You nod, holding up your empty eggnog mug.

"Thanks."

"How spiked do you want it?"

"Blackout levels," you joke. It earns you an even larger smile, albeit shortly lived.

He plucks the handle from you easily enough, but you notice how his eyes flutter above your heads and… stay there.

Weird.

Unable to help yourself, you lift your chin to see the captivating problem for yourself:

Hovering over the two of you this entire time has been a pesky little bundle of leaves, tied together with a tiny red bow.

Shit.

Mistletoe.

(Were these things even allowed in the office? Surely hanging one constituted breaking at least four different Human Resources violations in one swift sweep.)

You open your mouth to make a joke, but—

“Has that been there?” Nanami asks, and you can feel your face grow hot.

“I— Maybe?” You clear your throat. “Did you stand under it on purpose?”

(Way to go, moron.)

Nanami considers, then shakes his head.

“I had no intention of kissing anyone in our office, I assure you,” he replies, and you feel yourself deflate a little. “Though I guess this is an opportune moment.”

Oh?

You pretend to look unbothered, arms crossed over your chest.

It takes you biting your tongue to avoid asking outright.

“What do you mean, opportune?” you ask instead.

Blink and you’ll miss it: Nanami smiles, albeit barely, before turning his chin back to the mistletoe in question.

“I would prefer taking a woman out to dinner before kissing her, but I suppose if you were interested, then we could be a little unconventional. It’s likely the swift kick in my ass I needed.”

Your brows slide to your hairline as you regard him in equal parts confusion and hope.

“Wait, you…” 

Words.

You have to remember how to speak.

The whole point of this job was to be suave, but you’re failing miserably at it at the moment.

“You were interested in going to dinner with…”

“You?” Nanami finishes, and he angles his larger frame towards you. “Was it never obvious?”

Obvious?

Now you really felt like a fish out of water.

Nothing about Nanami Kento was obvious.

You could barely get a read on him, even if he did all of those really nice things for you—

Oh.

The realization hits you like a subway train, leaving you breathless.

The blonde stares down at you, patiently waiting for an answer.

You blurt. "Do you still want dinner after?"

"I don't think many places are open at this hour, but if you're not hungover tomorrow, I could call."

"I'm not picky," you reply. "I love takeout."

"We're not getting takeout on our first outing," Nanami snorts.

"Like I said, very-much not picky."

A moment passes.

You both stare at one another, waiting for the right timing to...

Well, do anything.

He wants to take you out to dinner.

Nanami fucking Kento wants to take you out— 

And kiss you.

Actually, that part is more important right now.

"So the... unconventional part."

"The mistletoe," he adds.

"Right. Is that still on the table?"

"Do you want it to be on the table?"

"Is that a serious question?" you counter, before leaning in a little closer. "Okay, but what if someone sees?"

Nanami shrugs a shoulder, resting his bare forearm against the wall you lean against. His button-down shirt is rolled up to the elbow, making your mouth water.

His body shields you from the rest of the people in the office. 

One quick peck and none of the drunks on this floor would be any wiser.

“Are you that concerned?” he asks.

When his featherlight touch raises your chin to meet his gaze, he makes your decision right there and then.

You’ve wanted Nanami for so damn long.

Now the opportunity is presented to you like a holiday gift, and you’re not one to be ungrateful.

“Not anymore,” you admit, wrapping your fingers around his speckled yellow and black tie.

Like two magnets, you pull him in by the tie and he drags you in by the chin, connecting your lips in a searing kiss.

Nanami is warm, stronger than you anticipated. You melt against his lips as they gingerly move against yours.

You want him to push you against this wall.

You want to what he'd do if you dropped to your knees the way you’ve imagined doing every single time he’s sitting at his desk with those goddamn dress slacks bunched against his thighs.

You want so much in so little time that you bite his lower lip, causing the blonde to groan with need.

He slides his fingers along your jawline, snaking up past your ear and into your hair.

His fingers curl around the strands, tugging playfully.

Then, abruptly, he pulls away.

No.

Too soon.

You could topple over with how quickly you chase him, but he stops you with his index finger pressed to your lips.

“Nanami!” 

A voice calls him, slurred and hiccupped, from the other side of the room.

You freeze, unable to do anything but stare into his brown eyes. 

“Get your ass over here!”

“Group photo,” Nanami reluctantly murmurs to you, and your shoulders sag. “Before everyone starts digging out the hard liquor.”

Still, he leans back in to drop a gentle peck to the tip of your nose.

When he pulls away, he drops the arm against the wall to hold his palm out to you — an invitation.

“Let’s circle back after.”

He doesn’t need to tell you twice.

You take his hand and never look back.

.

[freakova]

It’s December happy Leonardo-2003-and-Usagi-2003-give-each-other-swords-this-month month

[engie-ivy]

“About bloody time! Merlin, I’m glad it’s finally out in the open! I’ve been telling Sirius to come clean about his feelings for you, and just tell you how madly in love he is, for like a year now.”

James forgets mistletoe is a thing and jumps to conclusions.

Keep Kissing Me Under the Mistletoe

Merry Christmas - Ed Sheeran and Elton John

James checks the clock.

It’s almost twenty past three, which means Remus is almost twenty minutes late. James is supposed to help him with his Transfiguration essay, and it’s nothing like Remus to forget.

James wishes, not for the first time, he brought the Map, so he could check where the hell Remus is. He’s just about to leave when Remus comes rushing into the library.

“Sorry, Prongs! I got... hold up.”

James stares at Remus. “Blimey, Moony! What the hell happened to you?”

Remus looks flustered, his clothes are ruffled and his hair is messy, sticking up in all directions, like someone has been running their hands through it.

Remus grins a tad awkwardly, trying to look nonchalant, but not quite meeting James’ eyes. “Sirius just kissed me.”

James blinks a couple of times, but then a huge grin breaks out on his face. “About bloody time! Merlin, I’m glad it’s finally out in the open! I’ve been telling Sirius to come clean about his feelings for you, and just tell you how madly in love he is, for like a year now. That guy is so smitten, it was starting to get quite frustrating to watch him pine after you.”

Remus looks at him wide-eyed, his mouth opening and closing a couple of times, before he exclaims “James! We got stuck under that enchanted mistletoe from Mary!”

“Oh,” James says eloquently. “Right. Mistletoe. I had forgotten that was a thing. Strange tradition really, don’t you think so? I wonder who invented it. Or, well, a plant isn’t invented, of course. I mean the tradition. Who would-”

“Can we please go back to the part where you were telling me that Sirius is madly in love with me?!” Remus interrupts.

James taps his chin. “Interesting proposal, but may I counter that with a suggestion that we pretend that never happened instead?”

“Oh no.” Remus places his hands on his hips. “You can’t tell me something like that and then expect me to forget about it!”

“Come on, Moony!” James pleads. “I’ll be the worst best friend ever!”

“Oh no, what did you do now?”

Remus and James turn around to see Sirius standing there, carrying Remus’ Transfiguration book, which he must’ve forgotten in the... consternation.

“Nothing, we were just-”

“James told me you’re madly in love with me!”

“Remus!” James glares at Remus.

“James!” Sirius glares at James. “How could you! I trusted you!”

“It wasn’t like that!” James protests, before angrily turning back to Remus. “You’re twisting my words!”

“It’s literally what you said!”

“Well, taking my words out of context then!”

“What context?”

“The context that I didn’t know there was a mistletoe involved!” James exclaims.

“That’s no context!”

“Yes, it is!”

“How then does it change anything about the meaning of what you said?” Remus demands.

“Maybe not the meaning, but the reasoning behind it.”

“That’s not what ‘taking out of context’ even-”

“By all means!” Sirius says loudly. “Continue your little semantic discussion! If anyone needs me, I’ll be crawling into a hole and dying.”

Remus turns to Sirius and studies him. “So that’s why you were so... enthusiastic under the mistletoe.”

Sirius shrugs. “I thought it’d be my one chance to ever kiss you, so I guess I wanted to make it count. And,” His cheeks slightly redden as he continues. “I was hoping, if I made it really, really good, maybe you’d want to do it more often.” He looks down at his feet before quickly adding “And then marry me in an intimate ceremony in your parents’ backyard, buy a cosy cottage on the Welsh countryside together, adopt five dogs and live happily ever after.”

Remus bursts out laughing. “Oh, Padfoot,” he says, wiping at his eyes. “You’re so wonderfully ridiculous. It might be a bit soon for that last bit, but as for the first one part,” he steps close to Sirius and gently places a hand on his cheek, stroking it softly with his thumb. “I’d say you succeeded pretty well.”

“And it’s all thanks to me!” James exclaims.

Sirius scoffs, but soon finds it’s hard to be mad at James when Remus is leaning in to press his lips against his.

[something-tofightfor]

Snow And Mistletoe - Epilogue

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

No Outbreak AU.

Word Count: 6,419

Rating: M - as a whole for language and innuendo... This is fluff, though, with some innuendo sprinkled in.

A/N: This is the end to the @pedrostories Secret Santa fic gift exchange for @burntheedges. I wanted to close out their story with the *initial* idea I had behind the fic ... so I hope you're still interested. (I might also be persuaded to write the entirety of the night they spent in the hotel together ... if anyone cares, that is ... because I've got some **ideas**)

Thank you so much to everyone for reading and for responding. I had so much fun writing this one. Thanks also for your patience - I wanted to have this posted last night, but that just didn't happen.

Summary: Spending the night at the hotel with Joel changes things in a lot of ways. But when you leave to head home on Christmas Eve morning, it presents an opportunity for the two of you to take what you've discovered between you in a variety of different ways. What happens when Sarah and Ellie are once again thrown into the mix - and what do the two of them have planned for Christmas?

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

The drive back from the hotel the following morning was different than the one to it had been. 

You and Joel kept up a steady stream of conversation the entire way, your hands linked together atop the center armrest. He was lighter, somehow - more open - and you were enjoying every second of it, Joel’s laughter joining yours and filling the cab. 

You’d gotten very little sleep, the two of you making the most of the time and privacy that you had had together, and it had been good. No, better than good. Biting your lip, you looked out the window, watching as you passed other cars on the highway. It was amazing.

“What’s goin’ on in that heada yours?” Joel squeezed your hand, humming your name. “You got quiet.”

“I’m just thinking.” Returning your attention to him, you shrugged. “About how much has changed in the last couple days and how much more it could change.” 

“That’s all you’re thinking about?” He turned his head briefly toward you, one brow raised. “Because I’m thinking about the way you -”

“You’re fucking awful, Joel.” Scowling at him, you could feel the heat rising up the back of your neck and warming your cheeks. “But no, that’s not all I’m thinking about.” He laughed again, tugging your hand up so that he could kiss your knuckles, the scruff of his beard and mustache tickling your skin. “What do we tell Ellie and Sarah?”

“Whatever you want to tell them.” He let go of your hand, scratching at the back of his head with his fingertips before using them to grip the steering wheel loosely. “They obviously wanted somethin’ to happen, so they can’t be too surprised that it did, right?” You agreed, letting your mind wander to the smirk you knew would appear on the teenager’s face when you told her that yes, you and Joel would be seeing each other again. “I’m off ‘til the second week of January, and I know you’ve gotta work, but …” He paused, frowning for a few seconds before glancing over again. “But maybe we can find time to see each other?” 

“Of course.” Your hand found its way to his knee, the worn denim soft to the touch. “Maybe we could have you and Sarah over for dinner or something, too. You live close enough, and -”

“I’d like that.” He nodded. “I wasn’t lying when I said that tryin’ to bring someone new into my life was hard because I didn’t want to involve Sarah too soon, but that ain’t… it’s different here.” It was - and while it eliminated one hurdle for you and Joel, it presented another. 

“I think she spends more time at my house than she does at yours.” Joel laughed again, agreeing with you. “This almost seems too convenient, doesn’t it? They’re friends. They plotted to get us together. We let it happen. We get to tell them that they’re right about us being interested in each other.” You blew out a breath, covering your face with one hand. “God, they’re going to give us so much shit when we admit it.” 

“Yep.” He laughed quietly, swearing under his breath. “But I gotta be honest, I’m not all that upset about this one.” 

“Really?” 

“Really.” Joel cleared his throat and took the exit, waiting a few seconds to continue. “Last couple days have been a lot of fun. I’m done makin’ excuses. I’m kinda pissed it took two 17 year olds to make me act on it, but I’m glad they finally did.” You were glad, too, and you knew Ellie - knew that even though she’d likely make some comments for a little while and give you an appropriate amount of shit for dating her best friend’s father, the girl would actually be happy for you. Because she knows me. And she knows Joel and Sarah, and … 

“I guess I’m not, either.” You pulled your hand back and let both of them rest in your lap, eyes on the familiar scenery as you got closer to your house. “What do you and Sarah usually do on Christmas Eve?”

“We make dinner together.” He stopped at a red light, squeezing the wheel. “This year we’re makin’ spaghetti and meatballs. That’s about it. We used to go to my parents’, but when my dad passed, that stopped.” He turned down your street, the truck moving slowly. “You?” 

“I’ve got presents to wrap. Ellie usually calls Marlene and we all talk for a little while, but aside from that, no plans. We get takeout and then have leftovers for tomorrow while we hang out.” He was quiet as he pulled into your driveway, but when Joel parked the truck he finally spoke again, unbuckling his seatbelt and turning toward you. 

“Would you want to come over for dinner? We always make enough for leftovers, and since Tommy’s not comin’ this year, we’ll have even more to start.”

“I don’t want to intrude.” Your heartbeat quickened, though, lips parting in shock at his invitation. “Joel, that’s… it’s been you and Sarah, and …”

“It has been.” He shrugged, eyes locked on your face. “But things change.” 

“Bring it up when we go inside.” You nodded. “See what Sarah says. It’s up to her, Joel.” 

You expected him to get out of the truck then, but instead Joel leaned in, head tilted slightly to the left so that he could kiss you softly. 

It wasn’t a kiss that would lead to anything else; instead it was just an agreement, the man letting you know that he’d heard you and would do what you’d suggested. But it was just as meaningful as the ones you’d shared in the room the previous night and earlier that morning - no hesitation or restraint on his part, Joel acting on instinct and encouraging you to do the same. 

“Let’s get this over with.” He rested his forehead against yours briefly, but when Joel pulled back, he was grinning. “You ready?” 

You were, and so you both got out of the truck and headed for the house, your overnight bag slung over one shoulder and Joel walking a step behind you. 

The house was quiet when you entered, but after a few seconds, you heard the sound of music from Ellie’s bedroom, turning to look over your shoulder at Joel - who nodded with a slight grimace on his face - before you leaned against the wall and called out to them. 

“Ellie? Sarah? I’m back. Joel’s here with me.” There was a pause and then you heard the sound of quick footsteps coming down the hallway, followed by the appearance of both girls at the top of the stairs, their eyes moving between the two of you. “Hi.” 

“Hey, Dad.”  Sarah pushed past Ellie, her socked feet on the steps as she hurried toward where Joel stood. “How was the party?”

“Was good, babygirl.” He held an arm out to hug her, Sarah stepping into the embrace without pause. “How was your pizza? 

“Good.” Ellie plopped down on the steps about halfway down, her hands hanging between her knees. “Have a ton left over, too.” Joel’s eyes flicked to you and you nodded once, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“You don’t have to eat leftovers if you don’t want to, Ellie.” Joel looked over at the girl, Sarah pulling away enough so that she could look up at him and then over at her friend, her eyes going wide. “Haven’t brought it up with you yet, Sarah, but …” He looked down, both hands stuffed into his pockets. “How about we invite them over for dinner tonight?” 

She was quiet for a few seconds and then her jaw dropped at almost the same time Ellie swore under her breath, the words holy shit hissed out in shock. “For real?” Sarah’s eyes landed on you, and you saw it briefly - a look of genuine confusion in her eyes followed by one of understanding, the expression similar to the one you’d seen on Joel’s face more than once. “Can they stay and watch the movie with us, too?” 

“What movie?” Ellie spoke before you could, her smile widening. “And what’s for dinner?”

“Spaghetti and homemade meatballs.” Joel cleared his throat. “And I’ve been talkin’ up the Curtis And Viper 4 chase scene for weeks, so -”

“Oh, dude. It’s so good.” Ellie groaned, shaking her head. “Sarah, you’ll love it.”

“I’m not so sure about that, but…” She laughed and so did Joel, but the girl’s next words shocked you even more than the movie invite had. “If you invite them over for Christmas Eve, you should invite them over for Christmas dinner, too.” 

“Wait, what?” You spoke before anyone else could, your eyes focused on Sarah. “We can’t, Sarah. That’s for you and your dad. And you’re going to -”

“Don’t you dare say no.” Ellie stood, holding up one hand, pointer finger extended. “He smokes a brisket on Christmas. For sixteen hours. Do you know how fuckin-” She cut herself off, apologizing, but Joel’s laugh interrupted that, the man swiping at his face with one hand. 

“And I make mac and cheese and broccoli salad from my grandma’s recipes.” Sarah nodded, her eyes on you. “Even if Uncle Tommy comes over tomorrow and eats half of it, we always have a ton left over, because my dad doesn’t know how to buy small amounts of anything.” 

“I… we…” You looked at Ellie, who was staring expectantly at you, and then over at Joel, whose lips were raised in a half smirk, his eyes bright. Fuck it. Why not? “What can we bring?” 

“Yes!” Ellie pumped her fist in the air, following it with a quiet “hell yeah!” and Joel nodded once, tongue darting out to wet his lips. 

“Something to drink? I don’t know. Maybe a dessert? Sarah’s always complainin’ that all we have are cookies.” 

“I can do that.” You glanced over, looking at the clock on the wall. “Ellie and I will run to the store before everything closes and pick some stuff up. What time?”

“Six?” He looked down, checking his watch. “I forgot this damn thing stopped working. Shit.” Joel shook his head. “That should give us all plenty of time. It’s not even noon yet.” You agreed with him, and only a few minutes later, he and Sarah were heading out the front door, Ellie already back in her room to change clothes. 

You stopped him before he could walk out, though, saying his name quietly. When he turned back to face you, one hand still on your door knob, you blinked, shaking your head. “You didn’t have to invite us, Joel. And tomorrow, that’s … I feel like we’d be intruding.”

“You aren’t. I promise.” He reached out, taking your hand in his and squeezing. “Wouldn’t have invited you if I didn’t want you there … and neither would she.” You knew it was true, and so you didn’t say anything else, just nodding. “See you in a few hours.” 

You watched him walk down the walkway and toward the driveway, disappearing around the front corner of your house. Holy shit, all of this … wow. When he started his truck, you closed the door and then leaned against it, covering your face with both hands. “Wow.” 

“We told you.” Peeking through your fingers, you looked up the stairs at Ellie, the girl standing at the top and grinning. “I know you always tell me I’m too nosy, but …” She shrugged. “All I’m saying is that my present from Santa better be amazing this year, since I played a part in getting you a date with your dream dude and getting us invited over on Christmas, and -”

“The only thing you’re going to get is a box full of coal under the tree if you don’t stop gloating, Ellie.” She snorted, eyeing you as you pushed away from the door and grabbed for the strap of your bag. “Honestly, though … thank you, kiddo.” Climbing the stairs, you reached out and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her into a quick hug. “He is pretty dreamy, hmm?” 

She groaned and pushed herself away from you, rolling her eyes. “Gross. Stop it.” You passed her, heading for your bedroom and only turning when she said your name again. “What are you going to make… we’ve only got a couple hours?” 

Tossing the bag onto your bed, you put your hands on your hips, narrowing your eyes. “I don’t know. But we’ll figure it out.”

— 

The two of you stood on Joel and Sarah’s front porch at exactly 6 PM, each of you carrying two things. She had the brownies she’d baked and a bottle of non-alcoholic Prosecco for her and Sarah to share, the bottle nestled into a decorative bag that was stuffed with tissue paper. 

You carried a large dish of peach cobbler and a bag that contained two bottles of wine - one red and one white - the weight heavy over one arm. But you weren’t nervous when you rang the doorbell or when Sarah opened the door, the girl’s smile widening at the sight of you. 

“Come in. You can go and help Dad in the kitchen. I think he’s currently burning meatballs. Ellie and I are going to go upstairs and practice one last time.” You agreed and winked at the girl, the three of you making your way through the living room and into the kitchen, the sight of Joel’s broad shoulders in a thin t-shirt sending a shiver through you. “Dad, they’re here.” 

He grunted once, but didn’t turn around, and as you and Ellie set everything down and the two girls disappeared toward the stairs, you stared. He can’t see me, so it’s fine. “Do you need the fridge? There should be room.” He stepped to the side and picked up a spatula, using it to flip the meatballs in the pan. “I’m going to finish these and dump ‘em in the sauce and then jump in the shower.” 

“Sarah said you were burning dinner?” You put the Prosecco and the desserts into the refrigerator and moved over to where Joel stood, resisting the urge to settle your hand on his back and instead nudging him with an elbow. “Smells pretty unburnt to me.” 

“The day I burn meatballs is the day hell freezes over.” You laughed and so did he, eyes on the food in the pan and the deft way he handled the utensil, quickly turning the remaining ones to ensure they cooked evenly. “This is Sarah’s favorite thing I make. When she was little and first started eatin’ real foods, my ma’s meatballs were one of the only things she’d ask for. So I started making ‘em too.” 

Every new thing you learned about Joel and Sarah was like a gift. He was letting you in piece by piece, including you in small pieces of his life - giving you the opportunity to know the two of them. And it’s only been a few days. “They look amazing, Joel. Do you make the sauce, too?” 

“Sort of.” He looked over, nodding at the stockpot with his chin. “I start out with jarred sauce and add to it. It’s meatless, because Sarah went through a phase where she tried to eat less of it, but it always tastes a little different every time because there’s no real recipe.” 

“You said you add the meatballs when they’re cooked, but -”

“I do.” He pointed to a second, smaller pot. “I like to cook ‘em in sauce, just for flavor, but I know not everyone eats meat, so…” He trailed off. “Gimmie a second and you can taste it.” 

You stepped away and let him do what he needed to finish, only a few more minutes of sizzling in the pan before the last batch of meatballs were soaking in the simmering sauce. Joel wiped his hands on a towel and then reached for one of the spoons in the drawer, taking a lid off of the larger pot and dipping it in. For a second, you thought he was going to feed you, but instead he handed it over, one eyebrow raised. Blowing on it, you waited until it had cooled to taste it, your eyes going wide at the flavor. “Shit, that’s good.” 

“I know.” He winked, reaching up to swipe at the back of his head. “Glad you like it. Do you think Ellie will?” 

“Yes. She’s going to love it.” Setting the spoon down in the sink, you turned back to look at him. “I brought a red and a white, and Ellie got some nonalcoholic -” 

“Whatever you brought is fine.” Joel reached out, putting his hands on your hips and urging you closer. “I’m not picky.” He kissed you softly, the man’s lips lingering in their press against yours. “I’m glad you’re here.” 

“I am, too.” Murmuring the words, you nodded. “Do you need me to do anything while you’re in the shower?” 

“I’m going to start boiling the water for pasta, but nah. I should be done before it’s ready. TV’s in the other room, you can turn it on if you want.” You weren’t going to do that, but thanked him for the offer nonetheless, your eyes wandering around the kitchen as Joel exited it, too, the pot of water on the still-warm burner that he’d used for the meat. 

When you were sure he was upstairs, you turned toward the sink and reached for one of the sponges in the drain rack. Hope he has good water pressure. Grinning, you started washing the dishes he’d used, humming to yourself as you worked. 

You felt comfortable in his kitchen. You felt comfortable in his house, knowing that Ellie and Sarah were upstairs, the girls likely whispering behind a closed door as Sarah put the finishing touches on what she’d been working on for the better part of two months. I wonder when she’ll give him his gift. You chewed on your lower lip while you wiped the countertop down, cleaning up a few stray splatters of grease. Tomorrow, before we get here I’m sure. 

“You didn’t have to do that.” Turning at the sound of his voice, you froze in place at the sight of him standing by the edge of the counter, water droplets still clinging to the skin of his throat above the collar of his dark green shirt. Seeing him after a shower twice in one day? It really is Christmas. “I was going to do it while the pasta’s cooking.” He ran his fingers through his hair, the salt-and-pepper strands slicked back and away from his face, your eyes following the movement. 

“Now you don’t have to.” Shrugging, you wiped your hands on the towel. “Dishes are done. Water’s just about boiling. I stirred the -” He closed the distance between you swiftly, one arm going around your waist and the other hand lifting to curve around the back of your head. “Joel? They could walk down and -”

“I know.” He nodded as he leaned in, trailing a line of kisses over your cheek and against your lips. “Don’t care, though.” Yeah, I guess I don’t, either. You kissed him back, inhaling the scent of his body wash and shampoo, those two things combining with his cologne in a trio of scents that was cozy, his hold on you firm. When Joel broke the kiss, he didn’t let go of you. Instead, the two of you remained in front of the stove, the man’s gaze locked with yours. What is he… “We should have done this sooner.” 

You agreed. You’d been single for just under a year aside from a few dates here and there, and based on what you knew of Joel’s life, he hadn’t had anything serious in that time, either. Can’t change it now, though. “Well, we’re doing it now, and I’m not going to complain about that.” 

His return smile was soft, Joel nodding once before he released you and headed for one of the cabinets. He opened it and pulled out a large box of pasta, setting it down on the counter. “Pick a wine and put it in the fridge. We can save the other bottle for tomorrow.” 

“You think we’ll go through an entire bottle between the two of us?” You laughed, moving toward the bag and pulling out the red, a bottle of Beaujolais-Villages. Turning it over in your hands, you held it up. “Only needs to be chilled, not cold. How long until we eat?” 

“Not that long. Maybe a half hour? Gotta make the bread and boil the noodles.” He shrugged. “That enough?” 

“Yes.” You stored the wine in the fridge and then made your way back to the counter, watching as Joel poured pasta into the water. “You’re making enough for an army, Joel.” 

“Leftovers.” He grinned at you, eyes crinkling at the corners. “When I say Tommy eats like a horse, I’m not kidding.” You both laughed, the sound filling the kitchen. 

The two of you talked for the remainder of the time he spent with the pasta and bread, and by the time you headed upstairs to let Ellie and Sarah know that dinner was ready, you’d already decided that that Christmas was at the top of your list of holidays. 

You knocked twice before Sarah told you to come in, and when you pushed the door open, you saw Ellie sitting cross legged on the floor while Sarah was on the bed, an acoustic guitar on her lap. “Dinner’s ready.” Your smile widened and you pointed at the instrument. “That the one you -”

“Yeah.” She bit her lip, frowning. “Ellie said I shouldn’t restring it before tomorrow morning because he’s probably going to want to do it himself, but …”

“I agree.” You leaned against the doorframe. “Plus you’re used to playing on those strings, and if you get new ones, it might feel different, and you definitely don’t want that.” She nodded, her expression serious. “When are you -”

“After dinner.” She swallowed hard and then took a deep breath. “While you guys are here. Because I need … I need you here.”

“No.” Ellie stood, staring at the other girl, even while shaking her head. “You don’t need us here. You’ve got this.” She reached out, taking the instrument from Sarah and then setting it carefully in the case “But I’m so fucking excited to see you play for him, Sarah.” 

That was all the encouragement the other girl needed, Sarah bouncing to her feet and nodding as he finally relaxed. You gave Ellie a wink and a discreet thumbs up, and then the three of you headed down the stairs and back into the kitchen, where Joel was pulling plates out of the cupboard. 

Well, looks like my question’s answered then. Eyeing Sarah as she hugged her father with one arm, you hung back until both girls had served themselves from the pots and bowls, both of them giggling as they did so. 

Sarah carried both of their plates into the other room while Ellie followed with the bottle of Prosecco and two glasses, and when you and Joel were left alone in the kitchen, the man spun to face you with a smirk on his lips. “Your turn.” 

With a laugh, you stepped next to him and picked up a plate, but as you started to take food, Joel moved to stand next to you, doing the same. Both of you loaded your plates in silence, casually bumping into each other a few times before you’d finished, though it wasn’t on accident. Just as you reached for your fork and knife, Joel said your name and reached around you, one hand grabbing a stack of napkins, his fingertips grazing your lower back as he withdrew his arm. 

And when you looked up, you caught Ellie pointing her phone at you and grinning, Sarah’s eyes bright over the rim of her glass as she watched, too. 

But you and Joel ignored it as you carried your plates into the dining room and sat down, avoiding the chairs at the ends of the table and opting to sit next to each other - much like you had at the Chamber party. 

It was Joel that began the conversation, digging into his plate of spaghetti and sauce and focusing his attention on Ellie. That led to Sarah chiming in between bites, and finally you spoke up, too. The four of you talked throughout the entire meal, and though it was all loose conversation it felt warm, the soft glow of the tree next to the TV stand and the light from above the table setting the mood. 

You felt comfortable there, too, and even though you knew that a lot of the time you spent with Joel wouldn’t be with Sarah and Ellie, it calmed you to think that if the opportunity ever came up, things wouldn’t be awkward. Well, not as awkward as they could be between a teenager and their parent’s date. 

The food was delicious - and when you made a joke about Sarah having to teach Ellie how to cook, you were rewarded with a deep scowl from the girl and a laugh from Joel, Sarah’s immediate agreement resulting in a groan from Ellie, her face buried in her hands. “Merry Christmas to me, right? Must be gang up on Ellie day.” 

“Nah, I just don’t want you to starve when you’re at college next year.” You shrugged, taking another bite. “I know you’ll have a meal plan and all that, but … you might need to fend for yourself, and it’s always nice to have options.” 

“They have microwaves in dorms, you know.” Ellie wrinkled her nose at you, followed with a roll of her eyes. “I can make Easy Mac and Chef Boyardee ravioli.”

“Yeah but you can’t live off that shit … I mean…” Joel groaned, rubbing at the space between his eyes with one hand. “It’s good, but …” 

“I know.” Ellie cleared her throat. “Also, am I allowed to have a second plate? These meatballs are amazing Joel.” 

He waved her off, fork in hand, and when she sat back down, the conversation shifted. The girls took over on dish duty at the end of the meal and you and Joel quickly moved to the other room, taking both wine glasses and the bottle with you. He refilled them after you settled down onto the couch, but Joel didn’t turn the TV on. 

Instead, he turned his head to look at you, one brow raised in question. “Well? What do you think of Miller Christmas Eve so far?” You waited a few seconds before you answered, giving yourself a chance to look around the room and take it all in before you spoke. 

“I think …” Catching Ellie’s eye, she held her phone up and then looked over at Sarah, and then at Joel. What? You looked over, smiling at him. “I think I’ll be able to answer that better after we watch this movie. But the food was good. Wait til you taste dessert.” His lips twitched, Joel’s eyes on you. “How’s it feel to have company?”

“Good.” He nodded. “I like having the two of you here.” He lowered his voice, eyes focused on you. “You bein’ here.” There was no hesitation when he spoke, Joel’s words honest, and in an instant, you were upset with yourself for not giving him a straight answer. 

“Joel, I -” 

“I’m going to go upstairs for a second, I’ll be right back.” Sarah’s voice interrupted your thought, both you and Joel turning your attention to her. “Don’t start the movie without me.” It’s happening. You inhaled sharply, locking eyes with the girl as she passed in front of you and headed for the steps. Joel assured her that he wouldn’t, and when Ellie settled into the armchair, curling her legs beneath her body, you looked over at her, mouthing the word “OK?” 

She gave you a discreet thumbs up, and when you repositioned yourself on the couch, you looked over at the kitchen counter, noticing that a cell phone was propped up against a candle, aimed at where you and Joel sat. Talk. Don’t just sit here in silence. “So, Joel, what’s so special about this chase scene?” 

He started talking immediately, and even Ellie cut in, but at the first sound of footsteps on the stairs, she trailed off, her smile growing. “Dad?” Joel’s head turned toward the stairs and yours followed suit, teeth digging into your lower lip at the sight of Sarah standing there, the handle of a guitar case clinched between the fingers of one hand. “Can I give you a Christmas present tonight?” 

“What?” He leaned forward, clearly confused. “What are you…” She stepped closer and his eyes moved down to what she held and then widened, both of his hands flattening against his thighs. “Sarah, where’d you get that fr…” His attention returned to you only a few seconds later, recognition in his eyes. “From you? From the -”

“Give her a second, Joel.” You shrugged. “Just listen.” 

Sarah moved even closer, setting the case down on the ground and then reaching for one of the tall chairs in front of the counter, flipping it around. “I wanted to do something without you knowing. Because…” She unlatched the case, flipping it open and then reaching into it, her fingers curving around the smooth wooden neck of the guitar. “You’ve done so much for me and I wanted to surprise you.” 

She sat on the chair and situated the guitar over her knee, taking a deep breath. “Sarah… Babygirl, I …” He leaned forward, hands curled into loose fists. “What are you doin’?” 

“You’ll see.”

You’d been witness to many of the practice sessions and lessons Ellie had given Sarah throughout the months of November and December. You’d seen the girl’s confidence grow from day one, her skill with the instrument not exactly that of a novice in the beginning, though she’d been nervous, especially when playing on the expensive instruments in the store. 

But as the weeks passed, Sarah progressed … and even though you were capable of helping her play the song she’d chosen, it was Ellie that had helped her with singing in the previous few weeks, the teenagers working to seamlessly combine one skill with the other. 

So when she took a deep breath and looked at Joel, her nervous smile turning into a full-fledged one before she opened her mouth to begin the song, you were just as shocked as him. She sounds fantastic. 

I'll be home for Christmas

You can plan on me…

As she played and sang, Sarah closed her eyes and tilted her head down, her picking more confident with each note. You only looked away from her once, stealing a glance at Joel, who was leaning forward, one large hand covering his mouth, eyes shining above it. 

Sarah paused halfway through, taking a deep breath as her fingers continued to pluck at the strings, and when she caught your eye, you nodded, lips pressed together. She looked at Ellie next and though you didn’t see her reaction, you saw Sarah’s - her grin widening before she began to nod her head in time with the music, casting her eyes down again. 

Please have some snow and mistletoe

And presents by the tree… 

You were dimly aware of Joel’s hand finding your knee and squeezing, but you didn’t look away from Sarah, even as you put your hand on top of it and squeezed back. You were glad that the song was being recorded, because you knew that Sarah would remember very little of it once it was over, and from the sounds of it, it was the first time Joel had ever heard her perform - at least while playing, too. And he’ll want to keep this. 

But it was the last lines of the song that truly caught you off guard, and from Joel’s sharp intake of breath, they hit him hard, too - which was the girl’s intention. She looked up again as she played, entirely focused on her father’s face - and in a voice as clear as a bell, sang directly to him. 

I'll be home for Christmas

It won’t be in my dreams. 

She strummed out a few more notes and then let out a shaky breath, her hold on the guitar tightening as the sound died away - and then the room was silent, everyone waiting. “I mean it, Dad. Even if …” She stood head shaking back and forth slowly. “No matter where I go to school, I’ll be here with you for the holidays. I’m not leaving for good, I -”

He pushed off of the couch and took the few steps necessary to reach her, both of his arms going around the girl in a hug that took her by surprise. She had the sense to hold the guitar out, Ellie reaching for it before you could even think about moving. When it was safely in the second girl’s grip, Sarah hugged Joel back, her arms wrapped so tightly around him that you heard him release a quiet “oof”, though he made no motion to let her go. 

You looked at Ellie then, her expression full of pride in her friend, and when you gave her a thumbs up, she beamed at you, but stayed quiet. You heard Joel murmuring to Sarah, and when she laughed, backing away, he leaned down to press a kiss to the top of her head, his hands moving to her arms. 

“Thank you.” He scoffed, looking up at the ceiling and then back at her - before turning his head toward Ellie. “Do you … d’you think I can play that guitar before you take it back?” Joel twisted back to look at you, sighing. “That’s the one I’ve been lookin’ at when I come in, and …” 

“Dad.” Sarah spoke before you could, reaching out to grab the phone on the counter, sliding it back into her pocket. She then moved over to take the instrument back from Ellie. “That wasn’t your real present. This is.” She held it out to him, looking nervous for the first time. “I know how much you wanted it, and when Ellie was telling me about her discount, I figured that if I worked there, too I could…” 

“Sarah Jane Miller, you did not buy me a Taylor acous-”

“I sure did.” She thrust it toward him, her expression defiant. “And I didn’t get a receipt so you can’t return it.” It was your turn to cover your mouth at the sight of Joel’s hands reaching out to take the guitar from her, his breath catching in his throat as his fingers closed around the neck. 

“You shouldn’t have done this, Sarah. It’s too much. I don’t…” 

“You do.” She stepped away from him, sitting on the arm of the chair Ellie was in. “After everything you’ve done for me after Amanda left?” She smiled, crossing her arms over her chest. “And I got a really good deal on it. I kind of know the owner.” 

Joel looked at the guitar again, and for a split second, you thought he was going to take Sarah’s place in the chair and start playing, which would have been great. But instead, he took a breath, thanking Sarah as he let it out, and then bent over to put the instrument back in the case, latching it shut. “Yeah… I know her, too.” 

He turned back to where you sat, and only moments later, Joel was standing in front of you and holding his hands out, ready to pull you to your feet. “What are -” 

“Thank you for bein’ so nice to my little girl.” His hold on your hands was tight, but when Joel let go, he didn’t move away. Instead, he got even closer, placing both hands on your hips. What is he … oh, shit. Oh, shit. “And to me.” 

He leaned in and kissed you before you could reply, and though your first instinct was to jump backwards, you fought it. Instead, you brought your hands up to his arms and rested them there, he warmth of his skin through his sleeves radiating against your palms. It was a short kiss, the man barely giving you a chance to enjoy the press of his lips against yours before it was over … but it was enough. He didn’t back away from you even after ending it, his still-shining eyes locked with yours as though asking if what he’d just done was alright. It is. Of course it is.

“Duuuuuuuuude.” Ellie’s voice startled you, your attention moving to her - and to Sarah, whose mouth was open so wide that it almost made you laugh. “Is there something you need to tell us?” 

“Nope.” You laughed, hands slipping under Joel’s arms so that you could hug him, the man urging you even closer. “Not a damn thing.” 

It was Sarah’s turn to laugh, the girl standing and moving so that she could grab one of the blankets and some pillows from next to the couch, dropping them on the floor and then throwing a second blanket at Ellie. “Are we gonna watch this movie or what?” 

Joel let you go then, dropping back onto the couch and waiting until you sat down next to him to reach for the remote. But once he’d turned the TV on and navigated to the correct streaming service, pressing play, he slung an arm around your shoulders, urging you closer. 

You rested your head against his shoulder, repositioning yourself so that you were more comfortable - and just as the movie’s opening credits started rolling, you felt his lips on your temple, his beard scraping softly over your skin. “Sorry about that.” He whispered the words, fingers curling around your arm. “Couldn’t help it.” 

Angling your head so that you could look up at him, you smiled. “I don’t want you to.” He raised both brows, the smile slowly spreading across his face. “Merry Christmas, Joel.” 

He didn’t reply, instead tilting his head to rest his cheek against the crown of yours as the two of you settled in to watch what you hoped was the first of many movies together. 

— 

The version of the song I based Sarah's performance on: I'll Be Home For Christmas - Lizzy McAlpine

Tag list reblog coming soon.

[tswaney17]

elriel x mistletoe kissing but it's a human tradition and azriel doesn't understand it

Hello lovely!! Thank you for sending me this cute prompt! 🎄💕 I wrote a little something and posted it on AO3. Link is below. 💗

Under the Mistletoe

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics​​​

My ao3 account: tswaney17

Please let me know what you think about this update. I love getting your feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome. 💕

Trigger warnings: minor language. Mostly tooth-rotting fluff

Word Count: 850

Read on AO3. Snippet beneath the cut.

Azriel leaned a hip against the wall as he sipped from his glass of amber liquid. It was the good stuff—it always was the good stuff during the holidays. Rhys made sure of it.

His family had scattered throughout the sitting room, watching a toddler-sized Nyx play with all the new toys he received. His happy squeals and sweet giggles kept the adult’s attention enough for him to sneak into one of the darkened alcoves just to observe the others. And for some peace and quiet. Azriel loved his family, he really did. But they were a loud, rowdy group, of which he was not.

The only person who noticed his absence from the sitting room was the one he was hoping would seek him out. She always seemed to catch him trying to sneak away. It was one of many things they had in common.

“Hiding out?” Elain said quietly, pink lips quirking up.

Azriel slid his gaze over her body, taking in the amethyst-colored gown she wore. Her golden-brown hair glowed like a summer dawn in the gilded fae lights. She was gorgeous. He told her as much, earning a bashful smile in return.

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~~~~~

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[maxinemaxmayfield]

For the STWG daily drabble prompt: missed mistletoe

gen • 450 words • steddie

Why he had allowed the Party to use his house for their Christmas get-together, he’ll never know.

Why he had allowed Max and El to decorate without supervision, he’ll really never know.

He doesn’t know if they’re trying to get Lucas and Mike, respectively, to kiss them, or if they’d been trying to get the boys to kiss each other, but either way, Steve is now left tearing down sprig after sprig of mistletoe as he scours every nook and cranny of his house.

Sure, the girls will probably complain, pout and say he ruined their fun, but he isn’t risking it. No way.

Luckily, Eddie had stopped by and offered Steve a break from babysitting duty, which he was now using to reverse the damage the girls had done.

He double-checks each room, finally satisfied that all the mistletoe has been removed, and heads back into the living room after dropping the lot in the kitchen trash and grabbing two beers from the fridge.

“Hey, they doing okay?” He asks, handing the second beer to Eddie and leaning against the wall next to him.

“Getting into less trouble than I did at their age, so can’t complain,” Eddie answers.

“I don’t even like thinking about what I was up to at their age.” Steve cringes at the very idea.

They don’t realize that the group has fallen silent until too late, staring at them and suppressing giggles.

“What?” Eddie asks, bewildered.

But Steve doesn’t need to ask. Steve knows. Can see the path their eyes are taking from the ceiling down to both their faces.

Goddamn. Fucking. Mistletoe.

“Oo-ooh, you have to kiss,” El tells them, pointing at the leaves above them. “Those are the rules.”

Steve jumps in to shut that idea down before anyone else joins in. “We are not kissing.”

“Chickenshit,” Max goads from the corner.

“Do you have no respect for the rules of Christmas tradition?” Lucas asks.

And fuck, they aren’t gonna leave it alone, that much is clear.

Steve throws up his free hand and turns to Eddie. “They’re never gonna shut up about it if we don’t,” he says with a sigh.

Eddie doesn’t speak, just shrugs and nods with a look in his eyes not unlike a deer in headlights.

Steve braces himself and leans in.

His whole world tilts on its axis, like gravity has reversed, like everything he’s ever known has been thrown out the window.

Because kissing Eddie? It’s not like any kiss he’s had before. It’s electric. It’s everything.

He’s ruined for all other kisses.

He doesn’t even hear the choruses of “ewww!” and “get a room!” coming from the very kids who brought this on themselves.

[fanaticsnail]

Mistletoe - Straw-Hat Christmas Special

Masterlist link FanaticSnail here, SordidMusings here Happy Holidays, Merry Christmas, and Happy Mistletoe Kisses. Song Suggestion: Snowman - Sia

Word count: 7,000+

Warnings: Fluff, Mistletoe, GenderNeutral!Reader (written by afab!collab!author), kissing, pining, unhinged photoshop.

Beta-Read and Collab with the ever gorgeous, stunning and beautiful @sordidmusings.

Clutching the small sprig of emerald leaves and small circular blossoms tightly within your left hand, you reached down to the bench where you last left your scissors to clasp them within your right fingertips. The tan-coloured twine within your mouth scratched at your tongue and lips as you held the string tightly between your teeth, brow low and focussed in your concentration.

You pressed your left hand within the air, your crouched position becoming slightly uneven and shaken as you attempted to maneuver yourself in your perch.

After seeing the bushels and sprigs of festive greenery from your homeland, you knew you wanted to introduce this part of your seasonal culture to your crew: the Straw-Hat pirates.

Mistletoe-kisses. The tradition first begun by the mother of your cultural and historical deities as she held her dying child within her arms, wistfully memorialising his memory with sweet endearing affection beneath the object that claimed his life. Poetic, dramatic, beautiful and romantic; the four combinations you so desired to introduce to your pirate companions as you started decorating the banisters and rudders. The beautiful branches were woven so intricately within the scraps of twine you managed to fasten around them.

“Woah, honey,” you heard the familiar feminine voice call from behind you as you continued to wabble on your position perched against the blue kitchen benchtop, “let me give you a hand.”

“Yesh preesh,” you managed to squeak out from your clenched jaw, welcoming Nami’s assistance with her hands steadying your hips from behind you. With the additional stability, you managed to wrap the twine from within your mouth around the sprigs, snip the cords with the scissors and successfully secure the sprigs with more ease.

Sighing with glee, you brought your hands down to rest atop your orange-haired companion; allowing her assistance to dwindle further against your hips as she aided your decline from the benchtop.

“What are you doing, anyway?” she asked as you turned to face her, remaining close in your proximity, “I’ve seen you skulking around the ship with the branches and tying them up against the-,” she halted her words as she glanced up to the ceiling, her train of thought falling silent as her smile broadened against her pale face with a glow of pink warmth falling to the apples of her cheeks.

“-Mistletoe,” she breathed out with a large sigh, the warmth rising to your own chest, cheeks and ears in bashful hesitancy. Her eyes fell from her gaze at the sprigs to search your eyes with her own. Her broadened grin and softened eyes twinkling with mischief searched yours, as your own reflected a similar playful mirror against her gaze.

“Yes it is,” you nodded your head, eyes drawing to the floor with your teeth pulling your bottom lip between them with your heart beating faster within your chest. “Are you aware of the tradition?” you asked her, trailing your eyes coyly back upwards to meet with her own.

You heard footsteps approaching the kitchen entranceway, but paid them no mind as Nami brought her hand against your cheek with her nose scrunched in a playful smile. You placed the twine and the scissors down against the blue-coloured kitchen counter while your gaze held firm against her own.

“I am fully aware,” she teased you with her tone, “and now that you’ve caught me in your little trap, I suppose you’d like a kiss?”

Your lips pulled outwards further to widen the enthusiastic grin into your cheeks, allowing her to lead you by your cheek to draw you into her embrace . Falling your hands against her hips, she drew her other hand up to cradle your neck as she drew her lips to graze against your own.

Her lips were soft and warm, the taste of tangerines and cinnamon from the tart Sanji had made for the crew’s afternoon tea lingered against her lips. The both of your eyes fluttered shut, you drawing her closer to your body by her hips and raking your hands over her lower back to cradle her against you securely. She smiled into the kiss, her head tilting as she parted her lips gently to deepen the caress of her lips against your own.

She slowly moved her hands from your face to circle behind your neck to secure the embrace further as you engaged each other beneath the mistletoe.

Footsteps halted with a large thud, followed by the vocalizations to alert you of disruptive attention to break your silent and intimate moment with the navigator.

“Oh, what the fuck-,” a gruff voice uttered lowly.

“-Merde,” a whisper followed closely behind.

Nami and you broke away your lips, still holding yourselves in the warm embrace of one another. A small warmness rose itself to the both of your cheeks, followed by a small giggle of mischievousness at your crewmen’s responses to your current state.

Being the first to pull away from you, Nami made her way over to the swordsman and the chef at the doorway; leaving you to collect the twine and scissors from their place atop the kitchen counter.

“What d-did we-,” Sanji’s voice attempted to squeak out, his vocal chords failing him in their articulation of his thoughts, “y-you, the two of you-, you-u b-both-,” he gulped back his words a small fine bead of sweat pooling from his brow as Nami approached him.

“Kissing?” Nami arched her brow up with a playful grin atop her partially swollen lips. Sanji nodded frantically with his eyes widening in surprise.

Zoro shook his head and made his way over to approach the sink behind where you were standing, his hands firmly securing a glass to fill water to the brim within. He grunted at you as you darted your tongue out to trace your lower swollen lip with a mischievous smirk again pulling at your lips.

She looked once more to seek out your gaze with her own; suggesting playfully, “feel free to educate these two on the tradition, I’m sure at least one of them has never heard of it.”

Nami giggled at Sanji’s rising blush against his cheeks and nose, shaking her head while pushing past him to maneuver her body behind his and giving him a gentle push towards you.

“Bonus points if you manage to get them both under it together,” her giggle prompted a blush to flush completely against your cheeks before loud laughter rose within your chest at her suggestion, shaking your head and bundling your crafting objects within your hands.

You opened the drawer below the kitchen counter, placing the scissors and twine within the vacant wooden box and shutting it back in a swift movement. Feeling a presence beside you, the warmth falling from his bare arm against your own, he hunched himself against the bench frame.

Sighing with a smile again falling to your face, you turned to meet with the hazelnut-coloured gaze of the green-haired swordsman.

“Zoro,” you shook your head at him and clicked your tongue, “you shouldn’t have come over here. Now you have no choice but to participate in the tradition.”

His brows furrowed into a frown at your words, questioning, “Tradition?”

You anchored your chin upwards to gesture to the sprigs of florals and leaves attached against the bannisters of the kitchen.

“There’s a few origins of this particular tradition,” you began, the swordsman’s eyes falling back to your own as more footsteps began falling within the dining room and kitchen: Usopp, Luffy and Nami returning to the kitchen with a grin attached firmly against the orange-haired navigator’s lips.

“Go on,” Zoro commanded you in his gruff voice.

“Well, the long and short of it,” you began with a shrug of your shoulders, “is if you find yourself beneath the branches of mistletoe, well,” your index finger traced along the wooden countertop to ghost themselves against the tips of Zoro’s fingers, “you kiss.”

Your eyes searched his own, his left brow arching up as he questioned you, “Why, though?”

“There’s a few origins around the east blue,” you began, “one was introduced as a custom at weddings, mainly because they drew comparisons with the white flowers to-, uh-, male fertility if you follow my intention.”

A blush almost graced the face of the swordsman at the reference he followed with your words, a slow blink ridding the hue from his face.

“Another was to offer a ceasefire in war,” you continued, your fingers now brushing the outer forearm and traveling upwards to rise to his shoulder, “reconciliation and peace between enemies at the receiving end of a branch, lips meeting in surrender.”

He hummed in response, his eyes briefly gracing your trailing fingertips before falling back to your own.

“And why do you, personally, choose to follow the tradition?” he asked you, brows furrowing before a small grin rose to his lips, “peace, reconciliation, or fertility?”

Your voice caught within your throat, his words halting your movements as your eyes widened at his suggestion.

“None, in truth,” you whispered, your eyes searching his again by darting your gaze between his woody-hues, “to me and those like me; the tale follows the goddess of old. She introduced the kiss as a memorial to her fallen and beloved son; who perished under an arrow crafted from the sprigs of the branches and white flowers.”

“I carry this tradition as a reminder that we are all mortal and may perish at any time,” your hand drew itself against the swordsman’s shoulder, his chin tilting down to glance at your hand once more. He turned to face his broad chest towards you, his hand tracing the back of your own in a small, dancing and timid caress.

“That,” you smiled with a slight glint of mischief falling to your eyes, “and ensnaring the lot of you throughout the ship seemed like a fun idea at the time.”

“Well,” Zoro shrugged with a small shy smile drawing itself to his lips, glancing once again upwards at the mistletoe above the two of you, “what kind of swordsman would I be if I was to shy away from a reminder of my mortality?” his gaze fell low to your eyes once more, a broader smile falling now to his face, uttering a simple: “Come here.”

A squeak fled from your mouth as Zoro circled his arm around your neck and drew you against his broad chest, lips colliding in a dance of dominance with the green-haired swordsman. Your eyes remained wide as you witnessed him furrow his brows with a sharp inhale through his nose, feeling the warmth and passion falling from his chapped and coarse lips. You placed your hands gently against the exposed chest of the swordsman beneath his opened collar, still falling in momentary surprise at the unwithheld expression in front of the crew.

Your fingertips trailed absent-mindedly along the silver-tipped healed scar embellishing his broad chest, your eyes fluttering shut as he tilted his chin upwards and raised his right hand to cradle your cheek. His broad and widened fingertips wove themselves within your hair behind your head. A small hum fell from the lips of the swordsman as he was the first to pull himself away from your lips, resting his forehead against your own.

“Thank you for the reminder,” he whispered against your face, a small blush flushing his cheeks before he pulled away from your embrace and reclaimed his waterglass in his hands once again.

You giggled, giving Zoro a gentle tap on his shoulder before turning around to draw yourself your own water-glass and taking a small shaken sip as you processed the haste of collecting kisses from two of your crewmen with ease. Nami and Zoro, the two of the Straw-Hat pirates you would assume would be the most difficult to ensnare, were the first recipients of your cultural tradition.

You spun on your heel to see the three remaining members of your crew; Luffy holding a broad smile against his cheeks with his eyes upturned with a mischievous glimmer.

“What a nice tradition,” he exclaimed with a light huff of his chest, his hands falling to his hips before looking at Sanji, “Now, can we eat?”

“Aye, Captain,” Sanji’s voice chimed in, his eyes wide as he gawked at your place next to the swordsman beside you, “any requests?”

“Meat,” Luffy smiled broadly, “and lots of it.”

“Why am I not surprised?” he chuckled, rolling his shirt sleeves up to his elbow as he marched over towards the sink.

You ducked your body away from beneath the mistletoe’s snare, prompting Sanji to shoot you a small wink as he brushed his way past you. You noticed he seemed to be lingering beneath the small bushel as he began commencing preparations to adhere to his Captain’s request. You giggled a little, shaking your head at the chef’s wordless flirtation before turning to see Usopp with his eyes wide, staring at you as he stumbled backwards.

“H-hey there,” he started, his voice stuttering as his attention continued to be drawn on you, “uh, how many of those things did you say you hid around here again?”

You giggled with a small arch of your left brow.

“Oh, great Captain Usopp,” you began to prowl as a hunter against their prey, a broad smile rising to your lips, “the ship is simply riddled with mistletoe.”

He chuckled nervously as he continued backing away from your descent towards him.

“A-and what happens if you don’t kiss beneath it, again?” his heart began to hammer within his chest with a drum-like rapidity, to which he was certain everyone could hear its intense beat.

“Oh, Usopp,” you sighed at him, cocking your head to the side with your hands laced behind your back, “I’m afraid bad luck and unspeakable horrors will haunt you to the very ends of your days.”

Usopp’s throat became overwhelmed by the sense of peril, his breath hitching within his mouth as his eyes widened further.

“That,” you continued with a small nod of your head, “and I would be incredibly offended.”

He shrugged off his shoulders with a small rotation and a huff of his breath, nodding at you as he processed your words.

“Okay then,” he nodded with a small, down-turned smile, “let’s do it.”

Your eyes widened as he began his descent towards you in a deep stoop; yourself leaning backwards in response to his tumble towards your lips.

“Usopp, stop,” you ordered him, him halting immediately in his actions as his brows twitched into a small frown. You huffed a small laugh and gestured above your head, indicating for him to look above his head.

“There’s nothing there, sharp-shooter,” you giggled, “there’s no need for a kiss, at least at this stage.”

He relinquished a small laugh from within his throat as a blush rose itself to his cheeks in embarrassment.

“Oh, I see,” he commented with a swaying nod, “so it’s only when you’re directly beneath the branch that you kiss. I got it.”

You clapped a hand atop his shoulder in support, your thumb caressing small circles in reassurance to smooth over his minor embarrassment. He raised his own hand up to squeeze his fingertips against your outer wrist, acknowledging and appreciating your gesture with a small, crooked grin.

“I mean,” you shrugged, withdrawing your hand from his shoulder, “you could always run away?”

“The great Captain Usopp running away from a fight?” he snickered, “oh, I would never.”

You both laughed whole-heartedly at the comment, you pulling Usopp into you by circling your arm over his shoulders and leading him back into the kitchen while Sanji continued preparing the meal.

Sanji’s gaze would continue to flutter towards you, whether intentionally or subconsciously, throughout the evening meal as the crew partook it together. His dwindling smile would rise and fall, questions unspoken remaining behind his lips to not depart from his pierced tongue.

“So once you kiss beneath it once, does that mean you’re safe in that zone from another one? Like the bad luck and horrors won’t get you if you’ve already kissed beneath it” Usopp rose his question up as he reached for a baked roll.

“Oh, Usopp,” you laughed at him, “try not to overthink it.”

You passed him the ceramic dish containing a knob of whipped butter, him nodding to you and taking it from your outstretched hands.

“It’s meant to be a bit of fun, nothing serious,” you informed him with a tone of reassurance.

You all concluded your meal engaging in questions regarding other aspects of cultural traditions: Sanji and Luffy primarily focussing on cuisine practices over holiday periods while the chef’s descriptors of the food had all of your mouths watering in anticipation and longing.

After the meal had come to an end, Sanji began expertly stacking dishes within his arms and bringing them to the sink. You smiled warmly at the blonde chef, his own warmth rising to his face as he darted his eyes between your two orbs.

“Who’s on first watch tonight?” Zoro’s voice cut through the air, your attention falling to his form at the dinner table.

“I believe it’s mine, swordsman,” you informed him with a nod, rising to your feet, “thank you for the meal, chef. It was as wonderful as always.”

“You’re most welcome, beautiful,” his nose scrunched at the bridge with a smile rising upwards to bare his pearled teeth to you.

Turning to walk on your way exiting the kitchen, you turned to land your eyes back to your crew; pausing for a moment to commit the sight to memory. The evening had a warmth from the sea air, the scents of the meals mixing beautifully with the cleaning products Sanji began to fill the sink with.

Your captain sighed in contentment, patting his stomach with praises of his own aimed at the chef. Laughter from Nami and Usopp, alongside the small smirk rising to the Zoro’s lips had you sighing in adoration. Nodding at the scene laying before you, you again turned to make your way back outward to begin your watch.

After your peaceful and lengthy watch concluded, you travelled below decks to meet with Usopp; the secondary watch for the evening to inform him of the lack of events that fell upon the night. He nodded to your words, his arms stretching upwards cracking his back  in an arched shape. 

“I’m sorry second watch has to be you today,” you winced out in pity, “it’s always the roughest, watching the sun rise as you only had a few hours sleep yourself is exceptionally difficult.”

“I agree,” he nodded his head with a small, tight-lipped smile, “it’s not my favourite, that’s for sure.”

You giggled, cupping his shoulder in response and giving it a small squeeze.

“Now, go get some rest,” he ordered you in a low tone, you nodding and stretching in a similar manner he did moments ago; your chin drawing upwards to the ceiling as your eyes remained closed.

Reopening your tired eyes, your sights met with the familiar small beads of the mistletoe you had forgotten you placed within the crew-quarter corridor; just as Usopp stepped outwards to draw himself into the hallway to begin his watch.

“Usopp,” you whispered, reclaiming the attention of the sharp-shooter, “look up.”

His eyes rose to the ceiling, widening as his gaze located the haunting florals amongst the emerald leaves.

“Wh-what does that-,” his words were halted as you placed a small, lazy kiss against the apple of his cheek. You hummed against his cheek briefly, your lips curling upwards into a smile before withdrawing your lips from his smooth skin.

“That should be enough to satisfy the bad luck and unspeakable horrors for now,” you smirked at him with half-lidded, glazed and tired eyes, “until the morrow, Great Captain Usopp.”

You offered him a lazy two-fingered salute before you turned away from him to begin your journey to your own crew-quarters; only for your actions to be halted by a firm grip within the crook of your elbow. Tugging lightly on your inner arm, your body rotated in a twirl once again to fall beneath the mistletoe with Usopp, his own eyes half-lidded as he drew you towards himself.

“I think a little more might be needed to halt their advance,” he grinned at you, falling his lips against your own in the dimly lit hallway.

You sighed against his warm lips, your arms raising to lazily circle behind his neck to hold his embrace firmly against your own. Your fingers brushed his hair, your fingers weaving against his scalp and lightly raking it under your tired grip. He fell his hands to your hips before dragging them against your lower back, drawing your hips inwards to hold them flush against his own.

Gasping against his lips, you again hummed in response to his open-lipped advance on you as he anchored his chin down to release your lips from his entanglement; his forehead pressing gently against your own brow.

“They’re satisfied now, I think,” Usopp commented with a small whispered sigh.

“And it’s all thanks to the Great Captain Usopp,” you whispered your praise in return, withdrawing your arms from his neck and he in turn unlacing his arms from circling your waist.

You waved him a good night as you again turned on your way towards your quarters to begin your much needed rest to prepare yourself for another day aboard the Going Merry with your crew of misfits.

Shrugging off your clothes for the evening, you placed your shoes neatly by the front door and scuttled into the warmth of your plush duvet atop your suspended bed. The chains attached to the ceiling rattled slightly as you rolled into a more comfortable position; your eyes closing as you released a small giddy giggle. You managed to capture three of your crewmen beneath the mistletoe within the first day, and you could not wait to draw in the remaining two with a friendly kiss.

Sleep welcomed you into its awaiting arms, the energy slipping from you as you fell into its embrace before welcoming the rays of the dawn through your curtained bay window. Sitting up in your bed, you allowed the sheets to fall from your torso as the duvet fell to your waist. Arms raised in an arched stretch, you thought back on the three, technically four, kisses you had shared with your crewmen the day before. Nami felt so soft against you, her femininity and playful charm held you captive as you both giggled against one another’s lips. 

Zoro was rough, his lips chapped and dominant with the same amount of playful energy Nami had presented you with. Both of them held you so strongly cradled against their torsos, whereas Usopp’s embrace was slow and deliberate. The way he held you, his hands falling to your hips and lower back was foreign; you truly taking charge of that exchange.

A giggle once again fell to your lips as you threw the duvet from your lower body, stepping out to fall your bare feet to the wooden floorboards.

While adorning your sleepwear, you collected several new clothes for the day; setting to take a small dip beneath the warm rainfall of the Going Merry’s shower before commencing breakfast with the Straw-Hat crew.

You placed your slippers upon your feet, walking with a spring in your step down the hallway towards the bathroom. The sizzle of frying foods and bubbles of rapid boiling were the sounds echoing into your ears, their origins falling to the kitchen where Sanji was currently awake and preparing food for the crew.

“That poor boy never sleeps,” you whispered with a forlorn expression rising to your brows. You shook your head, your hand falling to the brass handle of the bathroom door and clicking the latch open with your thumb.

As you opened the door, your eyes immediately widened as your vision met with the dressed down version of your captain: white towel clung to his hips, his dark curls littered with glimmering droplets falling to the ends of his locks, toothbrush in hand as he vigorously scrubbed at his broad smile.

“Mfph!” he smiled with his toothbrush hanging from his lips, “guhd mmrh-nng!”

Held frozen in place, you witnessed your captain finish brushing his teeth; relinquishing the peppermint suds from his lips by rinsing his mouth with the cool water from the sink.

“How’d you sleep?” he asked you, placing his toothbrush back onto the counter beside the toothpaste, “How was your watch? I bet it was pretty boring, but thanks for doing it anyway. You know-.”

He brushed his hands over the towel clasped against his hips, you continuing to remain frozen in place as your eyes screamed at you to not look any lower than his own caramel orbs. You were not accustomed to seeing your captain in such a way. Exposure of his chest was one thing, but the way the towel hung so loosely from his hips was not something you were familiar with.

“-I really enjoy how you’re sharing your customs with the crew,” he nodded while walking over to your position at the door, “it’s nice.” You gulped in a dry mouthful of collected saliva, your wide eyes blinking with a slow joining of your lashes.

“Oh, here’s one!” he suddenly chimed in with a cheery grin, “look up,” he chuckled with a broad smile, his right hand falling beneath your chin to angle your wide eyes upwards. Innocently hanging from the doorframe of the entrance to the bathroom, the green petals taunting you amongst the white clusters of soft bulbs.

“I don’t remember putting one there,” you muttered quietly beneath your breath. Angling your chin down to meet again with the caramel eyes of your captain, his irises twinkling with a glimmer of mischief.

“I’ll let you in on a secret,” he murmured, his face inching all the more closely towards your own, “I may have moved some of them-,” he scrunched his nose, brushing it against your own in a small, playful caress, “-I can’t let you have all the fun.” 

Holding your chin firmly, he drew you in to capture your lips with his own. He tasted of peppermint toothpaste, his lips curling into a small smile as he hummed against your lips. Your hands instinctively flew to his dark curls, lacing your fingertips against his scalp and holding him firmly against your body.

He leant forwards, dropping your chin from his grasp and opting to lace them behind your back and pull you in for a light squeeze, lifting you into the air with ease. You squeaked out a small tone of surprise at the motion, his lips giggling against yours as he spun you within the air; gasps falling from the two of you as he replanted your feet onto the ground.

He closed his lips against yours, withdrawing a little before pressing one more chaste kiss against your lips.

“Good luck finding the rest,” he whispered, his eyes half-lidded with a small chuckle falling from his lips as he unwove himself from around you, “I’m gonna keep them up, I think. It’s a healthy team-building exercise.”

He scrunched his nose one last time, exiting the bathroom doorframe and turning one last time to look at you. His hand wove around the brass door handle, pulling it closed with a small wink falling from the eye atop his scarred cheek.

As soon as the door clicked shut, you let out a breath you didn’t think you were holding within your chest, hand falling back to clutch the sink and bearing the brunt of your weight against the porcelain surface.

“That was,” you whispered, drawing your other hand up to rake your fingers through your hair, “a little more than I expected from him.”

You turned to look in the cloudy mirror, gazing into your own eyes with a wide grin.

“Four down, one to go,” you giggled before your laughter fell from your lips eclipsed by a perplexed frown, “and the last one was truly who I thought would be the easiest to convince to adhere to the little tradition.”

After you completed your shower, you joined the crew for breakfast; merriment and laughter falling from your lips as the crew spoke again about the traditions of their own cultures. Your eyes travelled around the rigging of the deck of the ship, noticing several sprigs of mistletoe you had tied against the bannisters had mysteriously disappeared: no doubt your captain making true on his earlier statement of moving the sprigs and twine around the ship to hold you equally as susceptible to fall beneath the trap as the rest of the crew.

Your emptied plate was collected from in front of you, the bare forearms of the blonde chef drawing down to claim the plate. His sleeves were once again rolled to the crook of his elbow, the relinquishment of his regular formality drew a warm smile to your face.

“Thank you, Sanji,” you praised him in thanks, folding your hands into your lap to make it easier for him to collect the items before you, “your skilled hands never cease to amaze me.”

A warm blush drew itself to his nose and cheeks, the blonde locks falling further to shield his eyes from you. You turned your sights to the orange-haired navigator who shot you a playful taunting expression, her eyebrow raising with her chin gesturing to the chef.

“Him next?” she wordlessly depicted her question with her lips. You nodded in response, biting your lip as you watched her search the deck with a perplexed expression.

You followed her gaze, noticing the lack of mistletoe adorning the area that you painstakingly attached to the wood the day before. You furrowed your brows, noticing a trail of sprigs falling against the top mast of the crows nest.

“Well done, Luffy,” you whispered in awe, staring at the sprigs; the chef halting his collection of food-smeared plates to follow your eyes. He chuckled once his gaze fell to the floral arrangement hanging from the flag above the crows nest.

The crew began to rise from their seated positions around the external table, all dispersing to complete their various roles around the ship: leaving Zoro behind as he reclined against one of the wooden benchtops, closing his eyes with his arms supporting his head. As you stood from the table, your eyes trailed once again to the top mast of the ship, squinting to get a better look at the arrangement with your right hand rising to your brow to shield the morning rays of the sun from your vision.

“So,” a voice murmured from behind you, prompting you to turn to welcome the chef back above deck, “is there a distance rule for the mistletoe-?” his smirk pulled at the right hand corner of his mouth, “-or would it still count if I just-?”

He wrapped his arms around your waist, hoisting you up into his strong arms and walking you to the tall, wooden pillar supporting the roped ladder leading upwards to the look out. A giggle rose within your chest as your back was pressed against the smooth wood, Sanji’s forehead resting in the crook of your neck. He chuckled against your shoulder before withdrawing his face from your skin and gazing into your eyes.

“I think there’s a distance rule here,” you giggled at him, gesturing with your chin up towards the roof. The view of the mistletoe was now obscured by the base of the crows nest, the wooden planks falling within view now rather than the cluster of leaves and flowers.

Sanji let out a small groan in frustration, his smirk falling from his lips as he placed your feet back onto the ground.

“And here I thought I was being clever,” he breathily laughed at himself, scrunching up his nose and relinquishing his hold on your waist, “another time, then?”

You nodded with a small blush rising to your cheeks, watching his descent back below deck as his shoulders almost seemed to slump in defeat. You furrowed your brows in a small amount of pity before walking over to sit by Zoro, pulling out your journal and beginning cataloguing and annotating a variety of drawn flora and fauna.

You felt a shift beside you, two tanned fingers tugging down the middle of your journal. You furrowed your brows, tilting your head up and having your lips immediately met by the green-haired swordsman’s. Widening your eyes and gasping in surprise, you placed the book in your lap and raised your hand upwards to cradle his cheek against your palm.

He broke his lips from your own, a smirk rising against his lips as he tilted his chin up to the ceiling, uttering a small: “Mistletoe.”

Glancing up at the ceiling, there was a bundle of mistletoe adorning the railing above your seated position beside him. A giggle rose in your chest, the swordsman choosing to lay down once more; this time his head falling to your lap and closing his eyes.

“Excuse you?” you chastised him, “When did I say it was okay to lay there?”

“You didn’t,” he grunted, a soft smile rising to his lips. “Can I just lay here a while?”

“Fine,” you sighed with a shake of your head, reclaiming the book you placed down and continuing your work within the folds of your leather-bound journal. He closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of your thighs beneath his head as he fell into a blissful slumber under the morning sun.

This is how the following week seemed to go: all of the members of the Straw-Hat crew managed to claim kisses from your lips, cheek and forehead beneath the mistletoe; you in turn offering the same. That was all except, it should seem, the blonde-haired chef had yet to have the opportunity to claim a kiss from anyone, nor receive one in return. And your heart broke for his poor, romantic soul.

You twirled the fine sprigs of withering florals within your fingertips, interweaving the branches into one another and fastening them with a small amount of twine as necessary.

Each kiss you shared with Nami felt as soft and as playful as the first, the taste of her lips against yours feeling sweet and as warm as the sun that welcomed you into the day. Luffy’s were always incredibly mischievous, his lips often catching you off guard as you went about your duties aboard the ship. Usopp was always shy, his kisses feeling like a hidden and apprehensive confession of childhood romance with all of the giddy feelings coinciding with them. Zoro’s lips were dominant, passionate and sometimes lazy; much akin to his attitude and practices with his tri-wielding swordsmanship.

Yet, you had yet to taste the lips of the beloved chef aboard the Going Merry. He eluded you unintentionally, as he did the other members of the Straw-Hat pirates. Sanji had yet to sample the tradition you had so graciously introduced to the crew, and it was devastating for you to witness. 

Interweaving the final strands of the mistletoe, you nodded your head in satisfaction with a broad smile stitched against your face. Rising to your feet, you began your descent towards the kitchen where you knew the chef would be hiding away; elbows deep within the suds infused dishwater.

And that’s where he was, hunched over and clasping one of the many mugs within his left hand and scrubbing the ceramic edge with his right. His focussed grip never let up, twirling the object around as a dance within his palm as he hummed a sweet song through his nose. The filter end of a cigarette hung loosely from his lips as he remained blissfully unaware of your approach, placing the cleaned mug within the drying rack to the side of the deep sink.

“A pretty melody, Chef,” you uttered your compliments, prompting Sanji’s shoulders to rise stiff and rigid.

“Thank you,” he squeaked out in surprise, removing the plug from the sink to relinquish the murky contents from within it. He rinsed his hands with a small stream of water falling from the tap, drying them on the hanging hand towel below the countertop.

You coyly approached the chef, the woven object clutched lovingly within your palms. You bit your bottom lip.

“I hope you don’t mind my forwardness,” you began, a blush rising to your cheeks as you thumbed the object within your hands, “but at this stage-,” your eyes glanced upwards to meet with the ever widening eyes of the tall, blonde in front of you; “-desperate times call for desperate measures, Sanji.”

His eyes travelled to the object within your hands, noticing the circle of green and white florals clutched within your grasp. Mistletoe interwoven with sprigs of pine, fine branches and twine creating a beautiful and sweet crown of florals was your circlet of adoration.

“I-Is that for you?” Sanji stuttered, a small blush rising to his cheeks, “just for me to have the honour of upholding your tradition?”

You shook your head, raising the object to hover above his head; “it’s not for me, sweetheart,” you whispered with a small flush of warmth dusting your nose and cheeks, “it’s for you.”

His breath caught within his throat, eyes widening further and brimming with a small air of bittersweet sorrow. He closed his eyes and nodded his head lower, enabling you to place the crown of flowers atop his head before you circled your arms around his neck.

Tugging down the scruff of his neck, you joined your lips against his in a slow, deliberate and passionate dance of adoration. You felt him relax into your hold, his arms falling to your hips to anchor you against himself. A sigh departed from his lips as he opened his mouth to receive more of your romantic entanglement as your tongue darted out to meet his in a gentle caress.

A small gasp of surprise fell from your lips as you felt a small metal object located beneath his tongue, attached firmly in front of his lingual frenulum. He smiled against your lips, folding his arms further around you to hold you flush against his torso; swaying you slightly as he expressed his joy of finally being included in your cultural tradition.

You brushed his cheek with your fingertips, trailing them lower to press your hands against his chest to trace the collar of his shirt down to his tie. Tilting his head and angling his chin down, he deepened the kiss further; the two of you blissfully unaware of the presence leant against the doorframe as you clutched desperately within the arms of one another.

“Please,” a sarcastic voice called from the doorway, the gruff guttural energy falling from the swordsman’s vocal registry in waves, “don’t stop on my account. If you could just move over so I can get to the fridge, I’d appreciate it.”

You both sprung from each other’s arms, a flush of embarrassment at being caught at such an intimate exchange of passion rising to your cheeks.

Zoro chuckled, winking lazily at you while brushing shoulders with the chef. Your eyes widened further as you watched Zoro fall dangerously close to Sanji, whose blonde hair was framed so beautifully by the mistletoe crown in the light of the kitchen window. Zoro opened the fridge, retrieved a brown-stained glass bottle from within and turned back around to face the two of you.

“These twist top?” Zoro questioned Sanji, who shook his head in response. Zoro grunted and approached the chef in two strong strides, uttering, “Then get out of the way of the drawer so I can get to the bottle opener.”

“Zoro,” you gasped in surprise, alerting your two crewmen to their current proximity, "Zoro, the mistletoe.”

Both Zoro and Sanji’s eyes widened at your direction, both looking to the crown atop Sanji’s head before their orbs met each other’s: rage and humiliation befalling them both as their tempers rose within their close proximity.

“Idiot chef-,” Zoro began, Sanji’s voice cutting through the air.

“-stupid moss-head,” the chef growled.

“Boys,” you addressed them both, their eyes again snapping to your own. You chuckled at them both, shaking your head with a mischievous grin rising to your swollen lips; “it was used as a ceasefire once, perhaps it can be again?”

Zoro’s lip curled upwards in a small  snarl, Sanji’s brows falling into a low frown.

“Forever haunted by unspeakable horrors if you don’t go through with the tradition,” you teased them both in a melodic tone, “and I would be incredibly offended.”

A small, tense air fell between the three of you. Tensions and tempers continue to fester and boil between the two men, both weighing up the consequences in choosing to follow through with your warning.

“Fine-,” Zoro growled out, turning to face the blonde chef.

“Wait, what-,” Sanji managed to stutter out before Zoro hooked his forearm around the blonde’s shoulders and drew him into his chest; the chef’s lips meeting with the swordsman’s in a hard and dominant exchange of fierce intensity. Your eyes widened as a giggle fell from your lips; Sanji’s shocked expression against Zoro’s angered brow drawing hilarity in their comparison to the red hue rising to adorn their cheeks with a light flush. Breaking away as quickly as their exchange began, Zoro flicked the tip of the crown atop Sanji’s head; the floral arrangement falling away from the chef’s brow to litter the floor with a splay of leaves and flowers.

“Zoro, my hard work!” you cried out, the smile still atop your lips as you stepped forward to collect the leaves.

“Just making sure I don’t have to do that again,” Zoro growled, a smirk falling to his lips as he reached behind the stunned chef to gather the bottle opener from the drawer behind him.

“Like I’d ever let you, Marimo,” Sanji spat back at him, walking himself over to the sink to collect a tall glass to place beneath the tap of the sink.

You collected the leaves and reworked the crown in a huff, interlacing the twine again to collect the sprigs and flowers within the circlet. You laughed, finally satisfied with your ability to collect passionate exchanges from all of your beloved crew.

“Thank you, boys,” you sighed, rising again to your feet and glancing at the chef and the swordsman, “I appreciate you adhering to my cultural tradition.”

“Of course, love,” Sanji smiled at you, raising his glass of water to his lips.

“Thanks for sharing it,” Zoro nodded to you, swigging from the cool, amber liquid within the brown bottle.

[dreamsinarcadia]

Mistletoe

In which Heungmin and his best friend find themselves under the mistletoe over the years (and he’s pretty much to blame for it)

pairing: sonny x bestfriend!reader

warning: fluff fluff fluff

Part 2 ➡️

8 years old

“Heungmin,” she ground out with barely concealed annoyance. “Give it back.”

The wishlist that had been oh so carefully curated was currently in the grubby hands of the bane of her existence - the neighborhood’s spawn of satan himself, Son Heungmin.

Okay, maybe that was a little unfair. But she was certain that the boy had made it his life’s purpose to grate her nerves from the moment they had met.

“I think the address is wrong,” he muttered, scanning the paper with narrowed eyes. “Doesn’t Santa live in the South Pole?”

“It’s the North Pole!” she snapped, reaching forward to try and snatch it from his grasp. The entirety of her morning had been spent scribbling furiously in the garden, ignoring her father’s witty comment about smoke practically pouring from her ears. There was no room for error - she would be competing with countless other children for a place in Santa’s list! This had to be perfect.

Of course, perfection was hard to achieve with Heungmin looming over like a storm cloud waiting to unleash a torrential downpour on her. Not to mention his cheeky smile almost sent her over the edge. Clearly he’d accomplished his task of annoying her for the day.

Ambling forward as smoothly as he could (a difficult task when wrapped in dozens of layers upon the insistence of his mother), he plopped down beside her and peered down at the list again.

“A book?” he balked. “Of all the things you could ask for, a book?” He’d grown to hate her newfound hobby of reading books. Ever since the new library had opened in their town, she’d been holed up between shelves of pristine books for hours on end. Heungmin wasn’t exactly fond of the new-found silence he'd become accustomed to; he always looked forward to her sarcastic commentary that always accompanied weekend night football. He missed having someone to stand in the unforgiving winter cold, clad in goalkeeper gloves (her mother’s oven mitts), and endure goal after goal as he practiced his penalty kicks and headers.

“Give it back!”

"No, I don’t think I will," he sang merrily, legs carrying him out of the porch and into the warmth of her home, dashing down the hallway up the staircase, narrowly missing a near collision with the family cat sprawled on one of the steps. He was much faster than she was and he knew it. He was faster than everyone in their grade, his height granting him an entirely unfair advantage over their peers.

"Heungmin, I’m telling your mother!" She warned as he skidded to a halt on the landing, arm practically stretched up to the heavens with her letter to Santa firmly grasped in his hand. With his other hand, he begun to rummage around in his pocket for something.

“Just give it back,” she whined pitifully, realising that her previous threats just fell on deaf ears. From beside him, she tried in vain to jump up and grab the letter from between his stupid fingers.

Grinning widely, Heungmin quickly pulled the letter away from her to hide it behind his back and replaced it with whatever he had managed to finally find in his pocket. “For the price of one kiss, you can have it back,” he offered with a cheeky smile, bringing a basil sprig between their heads.

She looked up at it, physically unable to hold back the eye roll. She’d seen plenty of adults on television sharing an intimate moment below a certain type of greenery during the holiday season. While it was a lovely tradition, it required a specific kind of a leathery-leaved plant. “That’s not even mistletoe.”

“You try finding mistletoe in Chuncheon,” he said with a shrug. “I had to make do with the next best thing.”

“Oh great, so you attacked my mother’s pot of basil leaves?”

“… please don’t tell her.”

Her brows arched in a look of defiance. “Try me.”

He wiggled the basil leaves. “Then say goodbye to your precious letter to Santa.”

Taking a step back, she cocked her head and peered up at the makeshift mistletoe in a moment of contemplation. Her options were limited, true, but it was hardly the end of the world. Just the thought of redoing the list brought her a bigger headache than Heungmin could ever induce.

And so, with tiny hands balled into fists, she took a decisive step forward and stood on her tiptoes to level their gaze.

Heungmin tried his best to mask his excitement, he really did, but nothing could have stopped the immediate bolt of lightning that struck his very being and coloured his cheeks and ears an adorable shade of pink when she yanked him forward to place a kiss on his cheek.

Taking advantage of his moment of disbelief, she reached behind him to snatch the letter from his grasp, call him an idiot and dash down the stairs with a speed that rivalled his own.

Heungmin, watching her disappear around the corner with a dopey little smile on his face, pressed the basil sprig close to his chest.

Christmas was fun.

•

Christmas fics in January? Why not? Truly a product of my own laziness. Part 2 awaits you 🥹

[raina-at]

Me then: This will just be a quick pre-Christmas romp, just a little fic, just a teensy tinsy little fic...

Me now, 10k in and just about done with setup: I don't know what I was expecting...

[lilac-hecox]

Is it too early to ask for an ianthony mistletoe story 😭

For the sake of transparency I got this ask in October so it was too early, but now it is not!

Merry Christmas, Smoshblr!

Ian/Anthony - Ianthony - Mistletoe

--

Despite being the owners of Smosh, Ian and Anthony had very little to do with the set-up for the holiday company party. They approved ideas, of course, approved expenses, Anthony insisted on a photobooth, but beyond that, they trusted the staff around them to pull off a great party.

Mostly, the Smosh crew did just that. The venue was lively and filled with games and the photo booth Anthony wanted. There were gift bags being given away, an open bar, good food, and it made Ian proud to stand at the front of the room and see all his friends and employees having fun and thriving.

Anthony slides up to Ian’s side and bumps his shoulder against Ian’s gently.

“Pretty cool party, huh?”

Ian looks at Anthony and gives him a smile. It’s hard not to. Sometimes Ian still feels like pinching himself to make sure this is all real, that Anthony is back, and they own Smosh, and somewhere along the lines of their lives, fate has righted the way things were always meant to be. Anthony’s eyes are soft and warm and tell Ian that he’s feeling exactly the same thing right now.

“Really cool. The crew did a great job.”

“They did, so stop standing against the wall and come and have a shot with me,” Anthony says, laying his hand on Ian’s arm.

Before either of them can make it to the bar, Erin and Heidi are in front of them. Erin has a polaroid camera in her hands, and she grins at them in a way that just screams trouble.

“Okay, Smosh Dads we got you,” Erin says plainly, but she’s smirking at them.

“Got us?” Anthony asks with a nervous giggle.

Erin doesn’t say anything, but she points upwards to the ceiling. There tacked above the spot where Ian and Anthony happen to be standing is a sprig of mistletoe.

“Haven’t we as a society moved passed the concept of mistletoe?” Ian asks.

“Yeah, pretty toxic behavior, Erin,” Anthony teases.

“Shut up, it’s just for fun. We have a ‘Kiss Board’ near the bathrooms with all the kisses we’ve caught,” Erin says. She lifts the camera, “So…”

“I am not kissing Ian,” Anthony says.

“It wouldn’t be the first time!” Erin argues.

“Wait,” Ian says, “you’re making other people kiss?”

Erin rolls her eyes and Heidi hands over a stack of polaroids she had been carrying, giving them to Erin.

“Well, no, see that would be problematic. We’re offering the chance, the potential to kiss, you know, with a tiny bit of peer pressure and loosening the definition for what a ‘kiss’ means,” Erin says.

“Just for tonight,” Heidi adds. Erin nods in agreement.

One of the pictures on top is Amanda planting a huge and wet kiss on Angela’s cheek. Another shows Chanse kissing Shayne on his forehead.

“Of course, we need our dads to kiss. It’s Christmas after all.”

“Christmas is still like a week away,” Ian argues.

Erin opens her mouth, but then Heidi is nudging her with her elbow to Erin’s side.

“Tommy and Spencer are under the mistletoe over there!”

Erin whips around and the two make a beeline for the men. Anthony watches, shaking his head. He glances at Ian and Ian doesn’t think it’s in his imagination that Anthony’s cheeks are a soft pink.

“So, let’s just not mention this whole kiss board thing to HR, what do you say?” Anthony says.

Ian nods, “Agreed. How about that drink now?”

Anthony nods and then he and Ian move towards the bar, but Ian can’t help but watch from a distance as Erin snaps a picture of Tommy and Spencer. Tommy’s arms are wrapped loosely around Spencer’s waist because Tommy is pleasantly tipsy and Spencer is giggling, and Erin is laughing and shouting about how they’re supposed to be kissing and not just posing together.

He sees the moment that Spencer sticks out his lips exaggeratedly and then Tommy rolls his eyes and quickly pecks Spencer on the lips as Erin snaps a picture of them, and then the whole group breaks into giggles.

Anthony orders them two shots of tequila from the bar and the bartender is quick, bringing them to the counter with a nod. Anthony thanks the man and slips a folded bill into his tip jar with a nod before he picks up his drink, Ian doing the same.

The two of them clink their glasses together in a ‘cheers’ before sipping at the way too strong shot.

“Oof,” Ian says.

Anthony makes a face. “Yeah, I don’t remember the last time I’ve drunk tequila.”

They finish their shots and Ian is only vaguely aware that in their position near the bar, there is no mistletoe to be found. For some reason, he has a strange mix of both relief and disappointment forming in his stomach.

“Okay,” Anthony says with a bright grin, “I have one more best friend request.”

“Let’s hear it,” Ian says.

“I want to take a picture with you in the photo booth.”

Ian grins, his face and stomach feeling warm already from the shot.

“Alright, that’s fair.”

Then Anthony tugs Ian excitedly over towards the photo booth set up near the display of different arcade games. Ian can see a group of cast and crew members gathered around the punching machine, hollering, and cheering for one another.

Anthony pulls back the black velvet curtain of the photo booth, letting Ian slip inside the narrow space of the booth first with Anthony following. They sit together side by side, thighs and elbows touching as Anthony sorts through the options on the machine.

“We don’t need anything fancy,” Anthony says.

Ian smiles and then he glances upwards and snorts, “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“What?” Anthony says, a laugh already forming on his face.

Ian points upwards and then Anthony looks up and they both see the sprig of mistletoe that someone – mostly likely Erin and Heidi – taped to the ceiling of the booth.

Anthony laughs, his face reddening in the process.

“Well, thank god no one is in here to hold us accountable for that, huh?”

Ian lets out a giggle and nods, his own face getting red. “Yeah, man.”

“Okay, so poses. Why don’t we do one normal one and then the rest can be stupid?” Anthony suggests.

Ian nods. “Sounds good to me.”

Anthony presses the button on the machine and the screen shifts to show the two of them along with a timer counting down from 10. Anthony poses cutely next to Ian’s face and Ian shifts between a legitimate smile and a blank faced stare.

“Ian! This is our normal one,” Anthony says with a laugh.

“This is my normal face,” Ian says blankly, which only makes Anthony laugh.

Anthony manages to school his expression back into the cute pose as the timer hits 0 and it snaps a picture of the two of them. The next one they both pull a stupid face and there is something fun and freeing about doing this with Anthony, doing this for the sake of them, for their friendship, because they want to be together and have a memento from this night and moment together.

“This one, what if it looks like you’re sucking my dick?” Anthony says with a laugh.

“What?” Ian giggles, “fuck you, you suck my dick.”

“Oh, come on, Ian. It’ll be really funny.”

The timer ticks down and Ian rolls his eyes, but then he leans just enough and opens his mouth to give the implication that he might be sucking Anthony’s dick in the photo booth.

Anthony is laughing hard enough to wheeze, and the machine is urging them to prepare for the last photo of their set. Ian looks at his best friend, the curls that hang in his face, his cheeks red, how happy he is and how happy Ian feels because they are together again.

“Anthony,” Ian says.

“Yeah?” Anthony asks, wiping his eyes.

“Maybe we should do our last one as a…kiss or something?”

“What?” Anthony says, “you’re fucking with me.”

Ian shrugs, his heart speeding up. What is he doing? He shrugs.

“I mean, the mistletoe is in here after all.”

Anthony looks at him seriously, blinking, before his tongue sweeps across his bottom lip.

“You want to?”

Ian shrugs again, but inside, he knows he does.

“Doesn’t have to be for the kiss board. It can just be for us.”

A fond smile spreads across Anthony’s face. He leans forward and presses the glowing button to indicate that the two of them are ready for the final photo in their set.

The timer begins to countdown from 10.            

Anthony turns so he’s facing Ian. Their eyes are meeting, and Ian can’t bring himself to look away. Anthony leans in just a little and he cups Ian’s cheek gently and soft. Ian has no idea what the timer is on, but he leans in, meets Anthony half-way in the small space, and presses his lips to Anthony’s.

Their kiss is sweet and simple and fills Ian with a warmth he can’t even begin to describe or understand.

Distantly, he’s aware of the flash going off but he’s too focused on Anthony’s warm fingers cradling his jaw, and their lips pressed together.

It all ends too soon. Anthony pulling back and slowly lowering his hand from Ian’s face. They look at each other, and there are years of past, present, and future strung out between them. There’s a decision, a choice, and Ian was brave once, brave when it mattered, and it got him Smosh and Anthony back.

He summons that bravery again and leans in to fist a hand in Anthony’s dumb Christmas sweater and pull his face close so he can kiss him again. No posing, no cameras, just them.