#mistletoe fic

[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.

[afropogue]

hey my jjpope lovers, i wrote a lil christmas jjpope one shot if y’all wanna check it out:

synopsis:

jj is struggling with his feelings for pope, which he is convinced are unrequited. however, his feelings are put to the test when they end up under the mistletoe together.

[make-me-imagine]

Mistletoe Distraction

12 Days of Christmas: Day 3

Plot: While in the office late at night, Lou uses a familiar tradition to distract Y/n from the stress of work.

Pairing: Lou Ransone x Gn!Reader

A/n: Though it is about mistletoe, Christmas is not mentioned in this oneshot

Warnings: A kiss obviously lol, and a slightly suggestive conversation, but that's it.

Words: ~1k

-

Sitting on the edge of Lou's desk, you read through the report one more time. You had been stuck on this case for the whole day, making no new headway and it was getting to you. Catching no new information you could use, you closed it.

Setting it down on his desk, you sighed and stood up, stretching "There's nothing in these reports we don't already know."

Lou closed the file in his own hands as he nodded "Yeah, I know. Maybe we should take a break for the night."

Walking into the doorway and looking out into the office, you noted that most of the lights were off as everyone else had already gone home.

Looking at the clock, you saw it was close to midnight. You had known many cops and detectives to stay well past working on their own cases.

Turning around, you leaned against the doorway and looked in on Lou "Why does it feel like we're the only one's that care about this case?"

Lou smiled and shook his head "We're not, we just happen to be the only two obsessed enough with it to stay after work until-" He checked his watch and peered back at you "Midnight."

"I've seen cops stay longer for their own cases." You mumbled before you leaned it against the doorway. "And I'm not even tired."

Lou watched you for a moment, before his eyes slowly rose, catching on the decoration hanging above you. He felt a small jolt in his chest as he remembered seeing one of the deputies hang it on his door as a joke earlier in the day. He was on the phone so he had forgotten about it.

Looking past you and out into the office, his eyes scanned the empty precinct before he looked back at you, seeing you were clearly lost in thought as you stared into space.

He watched you for another moment before a small smile crossed his face. It would be a shame not to take advantage of this moment. Especially since the two of you were now alone and technically off the clock.

The two of you had given into your shared feelings a few weeks prior. Your professional relationship stayed the same, never showing any signs of a relationship during work.

Lou would be lying if he said he didn't hate how long he had to wait everyday to focus on the non "professional" part of your relationship. And he was fairly certain some people knew about it, but never said anything.

Rising from his desk, Lou casually made his way towards you before leaning on the opposite side of the doorway from you. His eyes scanned the precinct one more time, and he was confident there was no one else around. Even the janitors had gone home already.

His hands sat in his pockets as he watched you for a moment, wondering how long it would take you to leave your own thoughts.

It was only a few moments before you noticed his closer presence. You looked up and met his eyes, seeing a soft smile on his face, you felt your heart jolt lightly.

You couldn't stop the small smile that spread across your own face "What are you smiling at?"

Lou tilted his head slightly as he spoke, his face showing his amusement "For someone who tends to notice every small detail, you sometimes miss big ones."

Confusion showed clearly on your face as you processed his words. Was he talking about the case? Did you miss something obvious? If that was so, why would he be smiling?

"What do you mean?" You voiced with confusion as you turned towards him fully, arms crossed.

Lou smiled as he motioned his head upwards.

As your eyes shot up, you immediately noticed the obvious. A green plant tied with red ribbon, hanging from Lou's doorway. You felt heat rise up your neck as you repressed a smile. How had you not noticed it? How long had it been there?

Looking back into his eyes, you spoke with a mix of mild amusement and bewilderment "Mistletoe?"

"Hastings put it up earlier, as a joke."

"Funny joke." You said with a note of sarcasm. You knew Hastings had a not so secret thing for Lou.

He shrugged as he pushed himself away from the doorway, and stepped closer to you, staring down into your eyes.

"It has it's usefulness."

You tried to repress the grin tempting it's way onto your face as you narrowed your eyes and tilted your chin up "Oh yeah? Like what?"

Stepping a bit closer, he leaned his arm on the door frame above your head, as his face hung just above yours "Like, providing a distraction from the work we're focusing too hard on."

Your lips twitched into a small smile as you saw his eyes flick to your lips briefly.

"And what kind of distraction were you hoping for exa-"

Your sentence was cut short as Lou leaned down, and pressed a kiss to your lips. Without hesitation, you deepened the kiss. As he leaned closer to you, his hand cupped your face, your hand gently reached forward and grabbed onto the collar of his shirt.

Lou's hand moved to the back of your head as he deepened the kiss. A few moments later you broke apart, breathless. You stared into each others eyes for a moment before you smiled.

"My favorite kind of distraction then?"

Lou smiled as he pressed his forehead against yours "I think I saw some more mistletoe in the elevator. You still determined to work the case, or do you want to get out of here?"

You smiled up at him "There's nothing else we can do tonight anyways."

"Exactly." He said softly before pulling away, moving to go grab his jacket.

Looking up at the mistletoe you smiled, before you felt Lou's hand slip into yours as he pulled you along with him and towards the elevators.

xx End xx

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @imaginesfire, @onuen, @witchygagirl, @alexxavicry

911/Lou Taglist: @spuffyfan394, @webreathfandoms, @locke-writes, @persephonesportal, @pockyandme, @soultrysworld, @averyhotchner, @iinmysights, @that-marvel-simp, @gatefleet, @will-grammer

[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.

[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

[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

[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.

[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.

[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.

Read More

~~~~~

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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.

[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 should hopefully be up before you know it 🥹

[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.

[im-a-marvel-ous-hoe]

Under The Mistletoe | Bucky Barnes (6th Day of 🎄)

(Credit to the owner of this pic!)

We are officially half way done! I’m havin’ a blast writing these and I hope y’all are enjoying reading ‘em! 🤭

Christmas Masterlist <- check out my other holiday fics!

~~~~

“Hey, doll! Sorry I’m a little late!” I heard the front door open and the ruffle of bags as Bucky walked straight in. “The apple cider was on sale so I just had to get another bottle and the traffic back was… wow.”

Bucky stood by the door in awe as he took in the view in front of him. His two favorite girls were putting up the Christmas ornaments on the tree while soft music played in the background. Lights were already hung up and the smell of baked goods made him want to float gently in the air and be guided towards their sweet goodness like an animated character his daughter likes to make him watch with her.

Alpine was the first to greet him as our daughter Grace was quick to walk over to him. “Daddy! You’re back! Look what we did!” He bent down to place the grocery bags on the floor and pet our fur baby before lifting Grace up in his arms. “I can see that, sweetheart.” She wrapped her arms around his neck as he held her up and brought her up to his chest.

“It looks amazing!” He placed a kiss on her cheek as she let out a laugh. “Hey, doll.” He smiled as we walked closer to me with our daughter in our arms. “Hey, you.” He leaned in and gave me a kiss as Grace turned her body towards his chest and whined. “Eeewww!” I chuckled against his lips and pulled away.

“Aww, is my little munchkin feelin’ left out?” He turned towards her and placed kisses all over her face. She squirmed in his arms and let out a squeal of laughter, telling her daddy that boys have cooties. “Except daddy! You’re not allowed to date or kiss anyone ‘till you’re 50.” He laughed and placed her back down on the floor as she walked over to the box of ornaments.

He turned his attention back towards me and did a quick look around the room. “You put all these decorations up real quick. Who named you Santa’s number one helper?” He joked as I smiled up at him. “I am a black belt in decorating.”

“Hmm.” He chuckled and took off his jacket, placing it somewhere in our living room, walked behind me so my back was to his front and gave me a hug. “Ya putin’ up the last touches on the tree?” I nodded and tilted my head so it was against his chin. “What do ya think?”

“It’s perfect.” I turned to look up at him and saw him already staring at me. “You’re so cheesy.”

“Shut up, you know you love it.” I chuckled and pulled out of his embrace and looked down at my phone for the time. “I’ll be right back, I gotta go get the cookies out of the oven. Can you please close up the box and help look for the star?”

He nodded and waved me off. “I got it, doll. You go take care of those cookies.” I smiled and walked into our kitchen, immediately grabbing the oven mitts. My mouth watered at the smell of the baked goods and couldn’t wait to take a bite. I slipped the gloves on, bent down and opened the oven.

The heat wave hit me before the intensity of the smell did. I reached in and grabbed the cookie tray, taking it out and closing the oven door behind me with my hip. I placed the tray on top of the stove and turned off the oven. I stood and took a good look at the sweets in front of me and sighed in content.

I reached for a spatula I left on the counter top and grabbed a plate big enough to place cookies on to help cool down. I began scooping them up and carefully placing them down on the plate. I softly hummed along to the Christmas music playing in the living room until I finished.

While I let the cookies cool down, I decided to make some hot chocolate. I grabbed the milk from the fridge and poured four cups into an empty pot to warm up. Once that got started, I walked over to the pantry and searched for the tablets of chocolate de abuelita. I lifted the small box up to my nose and took a whiff, the smell automatically transporting me to when I was a kid and my abuela would make this during the cold seasons.

I opened the wrapper and grabbed the tablet inside and dropped it into the small pot. I whisked until it completely dissolved and became frothy. Since we didn’t have any cinnamon sticks in the house to cook along with the seasonal drink, I reached for the next best thing – cinnamon powder, and added some into the mixture.

When the hot chocolate was done, I walked over to the cabinets and grabbed three mugs. Using a ladle, I poured the drink into the cups and set them down on the table. I grabbed the baked goods and set them in the middle, ready to eat.

“Cookies are done!” I yelled out and was soon greeted with the sound of feet running and giggling. Grace was the first one in and Bucky followed right after, his hands behind his back as he strolled in. “Mmmm!” Grace licked her lips and pulled out a chair to sit down on. I grabbed two cookies and placed them down in front of her along with her hot chocolate.

Bucky reached down for his drink and grabbed it, bringing it up to his lips and softly blew on it before taking a sip. “Mmmm indeed, sweetheart.” He smiled as she took a bite out of her cookie.

I leaned in to grab a cookie, unaware of Bucky’s arm that stood up straight between the two of us. His head tilted up as he called me. “Doll?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s that?”

“What’s what?” I leaned back and saw him looking up. I followed his gaze and noticed he was holding a mistletoe above our heads. A smile instantly etched its way onto my face as I glanced back at him and saw a cheeky shit eating grin on his.

“And where exactly did you find this?”

“In one of the boxes while looking for the star. I was waiting for you to come back so I could use it on you, but after 10 minutes, I figured you were busy and would just wait until you called for me.. and you did.”

His smile never left his face as he told me of his discovery. “C’mon, doll.. it’s tradition.”

I chuckled and leaned up, planting a kiss on his lips as his free hand reached for my waist to bring me closer to him. I placed my hand on his chest and smiled against him, loving the cheesy romantic thing couples do during the holidays.

“Mama! No! You’ll get cooties!” I heard our daughter exclaim and I pulled away laughing and shaking my head. “Hey, daddy doesn’t have cooties! Isn’t that right, mama?” Bucky looked down at me and smiled.

“Tell Grace that her daddy is safe! Only other boys have cooties, not me.”

“No, mama! Don’t listen to him! All boys have them!”

“Not me!”

“Yuh – huh!”

“Y/N!”

“Mama!”

I stood there in amusement and simply reached down for my hot chocolate and took a sip. “I don’t know who to believe.” They both tried stating their cases while I watched in bewilderment.

“Grace, baby, I’m just showing mama how much I love her!” She covered her mouth and shook her head, laughing. “I kissed you on the cheek earlier and you didn’t say ‘eww’! Why is it ‘eww’ now?”

“‘Cause you kissed mama on the mouth! You told me all boys have cooties!”

“That’s right! But — ”

“You’re a boy!”

I almost spit out my drink laughing, watching as our daughter stumped her father. His eyes widened, clearly not expecting for that comment to backfire towards him.

“Wha.. no, wait a minute! I didn’t mean it like that!”

“So getting kisses from boys is okay now?” I asked, joining in on the teasing. He looked back at me and raised his eyebrows, pointing a finger my way.

“You’re not helping me out here!”

~~~~

I hope y’all liked it! Please let me know your thoughts! Likes, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated!