#todays theme; mistletoe

[doki-doki-imagines]

Who falls for the mistletoe trick? feat. mk1 Liu Kang, Johnny Cage, Tomas, Mileena, Kuai Liang

author note: another severe case of "I'll die if I don't post them today" LOL. Hope you'll like them!

Liu Kang -He falls for it. -For real? The creator of this timeline didn't expect a mistletoe from his partner at the entrance of their shared house? -Yes, Liu Kang knew from day one that this would happen, and he waited, breath itching and hands tingling in front of the doorstep each day since December started. -You point up, a knowing smirk on your face and Liu Kang acts surprised, white eyes widening a bit before looking down at you. "What a surprise, dear one." His voice is steady, like always, but your ears twitch, a mischievous undertone you can hear thanks to the time you spent together. "You knew this would happen right?" You said now in his open arms, steps lulling you, door closing thanks to Liu Kang's graceful kick. "Maybe" He looks up smiling like a fool "Now it is time to celebrate traditions." -You are the first to get closer, your lips pressed against his soft ones, his right hand finding peace in the back of your head, pushing you closer, the other on your lower back, moving in slow circle, his fire slowly enveloping you, his tattoos hidden under the bandages glowing faintly. -Liu Kang loves Earthrealm traditions.

Johnny Cage -He doesn't fall for it, but you do for sure. -Not like you had any chance when all the ceiling is filled with mistletoes. -He welcomes you with open arms, smiling from one ear to the other knowing perfectly well that you won't avoid celebrating the tradition. -He asks for a kiss each step you make, they are fast, simple smacks. -Till, one step at a time, the back of Johnny hits the table, your body now laying on his one, not a single breath of air to separate your bodies. -His kisses trail down your neck, his moist lips leaving you warm all over, his right hand lifting one of your legs. -It's time to take the matter in a more comfortable place… -Bonus: How could you not expect Johnny to have mistletoe-themed boxers? "Since you have been so loyal to the tradition it would be bad to break them now, no kitty?" He says smirking, while you don't know if you wanna die or laugh at the situation.

Tomas Vrbada -He falls for it! Congrats, it's not easy to surprise a ninja. -Tomas knows what a mistletoe means, he remembers when he watched with his sister Christmas movies, disgust plastered on his face. -Tomas feels giddy, a warmth that envelopes him completely. -He feels like a fool, a dumb kid during Christmas, a giggle escapes his mouth "So, don't I get a kiss?" His arms are open. -'It should be the other way around' you think, but it doesn't develop further, more excited to kiss your lover. -He is so overjoyed his legs become jelly, Tomas could only dream of being so loved by someone. -A simple gesture that brought him immense joy, fingers tapping on your back, playing your skin like a piano. -"Why so happy Tomas? Did I do something funny?" You question, lips barely apart. "You just reminded me of happy memories." He replies, hands now steady on your hips, grey eyes twinkling with joy.

Mileena -She…doesn't fall for it. Not because she knows what a mistletoe hanging from the ceiling means, but because of her observation skill. -"Dear, why there is a plant on the ceiling?" Voice rasped, head bending slightly. "Well, it's a long story…" -You explain to her what it means, never looking at her in the eyes, worried she find the tradition (and you) stupid. -She smiles, 'thank god' you think, her plush lips finding yours before you can finish the explanation, making you stutter. The kiss is fast and for sure not satisfying, leaving you aching for more. -"Is this fine, dove?" her arms lay on your shoulders, keeping your bodies close, lips so close, but also so far away… "I think I'll have to show you how to do this, Empress" You finally close the distance, courage finally sparked your soul. Mileena grunts, a shiver runs down her spine thanks to her fave honorific. -You didn't exchange just one kiss that day.

Kuai Liang: -He totally did notice the mistletoe but also doesn't know the meaning behind it so he just walks by. -"Ah, mister! Stop right there" Index finger touching his chest, hidden by so many layers of clothing "It's time to pay up." one hand caresses his cheek, while the other glides in his onyx locks, smirk plastered on your face. -But…he doesn't move? His brown eyes look at you questioning. "So you don't know about the mistletoe tradition, mh baby?" "Care to explain, fireball?" His eyebrows furrow, way more focused than he needs to be. -And so you do, looking at his face getting softer and softer at each phrase, just to end up snickering, a familiar sparkle in his brown eyes. -"You really find any occasion to get a kiss from me." "Are you saying you'd rather not?" You pull away, watching him in fake annoyance, eyes glued to his to notice if he takes the bait. -He does, a kiss fierce as he is, a kiss that leaves you breathless but that you wish it to be neverending. -"Is this fine?" Kuai Liang asks, a hint of jolly in his voice. "Yeah, but I think you should do that again, you know, just to be su-" -You won't need to finish the phrase.

[pinkrelish]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐲𝐞𝐬" 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐲.

singledad!mechanic!eddie x fem!reader

✶Eddie's month began with a rough start, but as the days passed, and your time together grew, his mood improved. He opened up to you, and you listened. Then things escalated. Slow dancing in the garage? Openly flirting while hanging Christmas decorations? This wasn't what he was supposed to be doing with his coworker who was leaving in a few months. And to make matters worse..

"I swear I didn't hang that," he promised while Adrie held both your hands, giggling under the mistletoe.✶

NSFW — slow burn, fluff, flirting, mutual pining, mild sexual tension, light angst, depictions of poverty, mention of blood, reader wears eddie's work jacket, 18+ overall for eventual smut, drug/alcohol mention/use

chapter: 6/20 [wc: 16k]

↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11 / 12

AO3

Chapter 6: May I Have This Dance?

Eddie opened the cabinet above the coffee machine in the breakroom, and took out his mug to replace it with a themed one of Garfield attempting to coax Nermal under a sprig of mistletoe for a kiss. He stepped back, admired the change in seasons, and clung onto the giddy elation before the impending stress wove knots into his muscles.

He’d be getting a lot of use out of that mug in the coming days..

————

Eddie disguised his crisis well.

He knocked on your desk while keeping the glass door open with his foot, “Hey, can you make me another pot of coffee?”

It was a favor you were happy to oblige. Pausing from thumbing through the filing cabinet, you smiled at him over your shoulder. “Sure!”

And later, he came to you again–diverting the stress from entering his eyes by focusing on the kindness in yours.

“Do you mind if I eat alone today?” he asked, flopping his black notebook back and forth for you to frown at.

“Fine, but you owe me.” And of course, he made it up to you the next afternoon, eating his sandwich made with the scraggy ends of the loaf, and no side container of leftovers, and downing it with a mug of coffee.

Adding onto that, Eddie concealed his problems through other means. Blocking out his suffering, disallowing it from bothering others, but to you, it was no bother.

You leaned over your desk to look into the garage, and asked Mr. Moore when he was passing by on the way to his office, “Did Eddie leave somewhere?”

“Awh, he’s probably out on a smoke break,” he said, rubbing his knuckles along his grayed beard.

“Another one?”

“Yeah, guess so.” He shrugged, inadvertently confirming your fears. “Been takin’ alottavem the past couple’a days.”

You had an inkling of what was going on when you caught Eddie eating his lunch earlier. Alone, scribbling in his notebook for the third time that week, dipping a knife into an unbranded metal can labeled PEANUT BUTTER and slathering the Government supplied commodity on a plain saltine cracker.

Sustenance to live, and hardly at that. You weren’t about to let him hide his misery behind excuses meant to keep you ignorant.

After closing, when everyone went home but you and Eddie, he poured himself the last of the coffee to stave off his hunger, and you shot up from your desk.

“Hey! I’m going out for a sec. I’ll be right back, ‘kay?”

He backed his lips off the mug mid-sip in order to remind you to be safe because it was dark out, and you really should wear brighter colors for cars to see you, and to slow down before the sharp turns because there could ice on the road and you could get hurt, and, and–

“Bye!” You cut off his worrying by riding past the doors with your eyes on him, not where you were going, narrowly missing a street pole by centimeters.

~~~

Back in record time–beating the previous record by default because you’d never had this idea before–you hopped off your bike, loaded your hands with the two paper bags sitting in the handlebar basket, and ripped the stapled receipt off them. You finagled your way into the garage.

“Eddie!” you shouted his name as you entered. And louder again as you approached him from behind. Tempting as it was, you didn’t want to scare him, but part of you hated raising your voice, as well. It felt blasphemous to disturb the scene which captured your heart time and time again.

He was at the workbench in the back corner, sat on a stool with his heavy boots on footrests, knees angled out, bouncing his legs in a rhythm offset from one another–most likely parroting the drumbeat of the tinny music funneling from his headphones so loud he’d surely lose his hearing one day.

The smooth expanse of his shoulder shifted and flowed under his coveralls as he worked, hunched over a set of parts he was cleaning. He settled his forearms on the edge of the creaky wood and swirled an old toothbrush into a bowl of cleaning solution, and scrubbed at the hunk of metal in his hands, setting it aside on the stained towel when he was finished to let it dry. A diligent worker, through and through. Tendons in his tired hands straining to hold the next slippery piece as he circled the bristles over the grooves craggy with grease. Muscles in his jaw tensing from the way he clenched his teeth in between mouthing the lyrics to the music vibrating his brain.

Concentration bundled itself between his eyebrows and above his scrunched nose.

It was endearing to watch him work; watch the menial things he was good at for no other reason than to familiarize yourself with all assets of him.

But good things must come to an end, for you had a better one in store.

You caught him right as he was dropping into a reserved headbang on a chord progression you could hear wailing from where you stood. “Hey there, handsome.”

He panicked, and knocked the headphones around the back of his neck. “Shit, I didn’t hear you come in.” He paused the cassette player clipped to his pocket with a sharp click, and after fixating on your sly grin for a second longer, he dropped his gaze to the oil-soaked paper bag in your hand. “Food?”

“The burger place down the street messed up my order,” you replied in soft amusement. “Do you want the extra?”

He didn’t need convincing.

~~~

The sounds of your togetherness filled the open room–wheels rolling on concrete, crinkly wrappers in your hands, and the grateful noises of him devouring his dinner. Sitting parallel to one another on the creepers, you rolled back and forth, brushing shoulders with Eddie on each pass, stuffing your faces until your taste buds dulled with french fry oil, and sparked with blooms of tangy ketchup.

Wordlessly, he told you he was ready to talk by coming to a stop past the point of your shoulders touching, and resting his arms atop his wide-spread knees, holding the last bites of his burger in front of his face.

You twisted around to observe the width of his back rise with a deep breath.

“Child support is late again. Happens every December, but it’ll come a day or two before it’s officially considered late in January.” Deepening his voice, he put an edge of distaste when speaking about Adrie’s mom, “She has the money–her and her husband have good jobs–so it’s just to be petty and get back at me, or whatever. Like being tied to me years later should affect our kid when I don’t even speak to her.”

“Eddie..”

He shook his head to dismiss the pointless pity imbued in your tender whisper of his name. “Doesn’t matter. Money’s tight, but we get paid tomorrow, so that’ll help.. I figured you knew something was up when I stopped eating with you, but anywhere I can save helps. I want to make sure Adrie has a good Christmas this year.”

Realizing something, he raised his hand to ward off any criticism you were about to give him, having been trained to expect it from others since his daughter was an infant. “I want to make it clear.. Adrie always has food,” he stated slowly, and from a place of loathsome apprehension in his chest.

“It never crossed my mind she wouldn’t.” You pushed yourself backwards on the rolly board, and leaned into him, bicep to bicep, gazes met. “I know you’re a good dad” –He glanced away– “You are, Eddie, and I know how well you take care of Adrie, even when shit like this happens. And Christmas will always be special because of how much you love her, not because of what you buy her.”

“But I want her to keep up with her friends, and bond over whatever they’re into.”

“I know you do..”

Even to his detriment, through the sacrifices he made, he’d make sure his daughter had whatever she wanted.

You ran a purposeful knuckle along his tensed tricep. It didn’t earn his eye contact, but he did relax his hand, dropping it to peel down the rest of the wrapper and finish his burger while you spoke. “Maybe they’ll mess up my order again tomorrow, and we can eat lunch together.. And maybe Robin’s mom will make an extra casserole for dinner tonight, and I can leave it in the breakroom, if that’s okay?”

“I’d appreciate it.” No malicious pride. No toxic masculinity. No senseless denial. Eddie accepted your offer with gratitude, and packed his trash into the paper bag while you still ate, settling in with his arms hugged around his knees, ensuring some part of your bodies remained touching–in this case, it was your shoulders again.

The sweet, trusting pressure of yourselves melding into each other’s comfort.

Then, while the candidness was raw, it was your turn to point your attention elsewhere as you asked something you were shy to voice out loud, “Uhm, when we were at Adrie’s school, her teacher kept saying something about, like, you not carrying her, and babying her, or whatever.” You gestured vaguely as if you weren’t eavesdropping the entire time. “And I’d been meaning to ask if I’m–uh?–too affectionate with her? Like if it’s weird, or something I shouldn’t be doing? You’re the parent and I never really asked if it was okay before picking her up, and hugging her, and–”

He cut you off.

“No, no, no.” His assurance was delivered swift, and earnest. “How you are with Adrie is fine by me. More than fine. It’s–It’s–Seriously, it’s great having her look up to someone who isn’t me.”

“What about what her teacher said?”

“I don’t care,” he scoffed. “I know she means well, but it’s not like Adrie’s going to be a kid forever, and if I want to coddle her, who gives a shit. Now, her teacher is great, and I don’t want to diminish what my uncle, and people like Steve and Nancy have done for my family, but for most of Adrie’s life, it’s just been me and her, and even if she annoys the living fuck out of me sometimes, she’s all I have, and if I want to carry her around, I will.”

“You have me now, too.”

You heard yourself say it.

You heard yourself say it aloud, after he said his daughter was all he had, and now you had to follow it up with a tongue-tied spew of clarifications.

“Just, you know, it’s not only you, Adrie, your uncle, Steve and Nancy, and her teacher. You have me now, too, as your friend.. I mean, we are friends, aren’t we?”

Warmth spread through your body. From your ribs, outward, where he jabbed his elbow into your side. Thrumming where his weight pressed into you, sending his hip into yours. Pleasure–blooming–from his silly grin to your romantic heart, to your platonic fingers snagging the fabric of his coveralls around his thigh to stop him from shoving your board away. Yearning. Sprung from the grease dirtying your skin being the same as the black streak above his eyebrow where he wiped his bangs off his forehead.

“Yeah.. Yeah, I think after this, you’re my friend,” he agreed, accidentally kicking over the takeout bag in his teasing. “No qualifier of reluctancy, or addendums, or prefaces. We’re friends.”

Yeah, definitely friends.

Friends who could calculate the exact degree of the arc of the other’s smile through memory alone, having stared at their lips for longer than friends ought.

————

And you played the part of companion quite well, you thought, when Eddie cursed as he came in from the garage with his hand cradled to his chest.

He ducked into the bathroom, and before the door closed, he was pushing it open on his way to the breakroom sink. “Shit. Don’t we have a first aid kit?” he asked.

“Oh! I left it in the women’s restroom after I got a paper cut.” You pushed yourself away from your desk, and found it in the cabinetry, bringing it to him as he scrubbed Dawn soap over his left hand, from upper wrist to fingertips. “Is it bad?” you asked cautiously. Blood was.. fine. But anything needing stitches was more than your red zipper pouch could help with.

“I’m okay,” he grunted, voice deep with the resonance of an inconvenience, more so than true pain. “Just one of those shitty surface cuts that doesn’t stop bleeding.”

The moment Eddie’s hands were dripping with diluted red water instead of blackened motor oil droplets, you tore a paper towel from the roll, cupped his palm, and folded it over his pinky and outermost knuckles. You bent over to keep his hand over the sink, and accepted the sharp jut of his elbow tucked into the softness of your waist.

The scrapes were shallow, as he said. You pressed your thumbs over the superficial wounds until the white paper dotted bright crimson–same color as his cheeks–and he remained silent. He didn’t deny your doting. Didn’t disrupt the gesture, nor break the spell.

It was a nice moment. Until you opened an alcohol wipe and swabbed it over the afflicted area. His mouth twitched at the stinging liquid cooling on his skin. As it dried, you made brief eye contact and shied away from his suspicious squint, like you had a secret to tell him sealed behind your lips all morning.

“What’s that look for?”

While pulling out two beige bandages for his knuckles, you answered in feigned indifference, “Oh, nothing. Just.. y’know.. Mr. Moore promoted me to Office Administrator, and maybe it came with a little raise, and who knows, an extra sick day or two.”

“Nice!” He angled his hand so it was easier for you to wrap the Band-aid around to the side of his palm where there was a wet, angry cut. He was trembling from the rush of adrenaline, endorphins, and relief he didn’t get more injured from his strained muscles giving out while wielding a power tool without protective gloves on.

“So now I have the confusing job of being both the person who cleans the toilets, and also organizes payroll.” You drew your eyebrows in. “Whatever organizing payroll means.”

Eddie watched you turn over the pouch to shake out the slots where the more grown up, adult bandages usually resided, and came up empty. Instead, a metal tin with Sesame Street characters clattered on the countertop. You popped it open.

“Hope you don’t mind,” you said.

Cookie Monster and Big Bird were gingerly wrapped around his pinky, protecting him from further harm.

Bright, cheery colors in contrast to the grime nestled into the crevices of his skin, and the dark blue coveralls he wore today. Your delicate touch. And his rough calluses. Your soft, chapstick-slick lips. And his cold-weathered mouth lifted at the corner. Your obedient body turning with his. And his face drawing near. Your tender, weak grip on his injured hand. And his sneaky fingers reaching past you.

He took three extra Band-aids and put them in the pocket below his embroidered name patch.

Eyelashes fluttering at the sensation of your forearm resting against his stomach, you chided him in the faintest exhale, “That’s stealing from the company, you know. I could write you up.”

Pleading with you amidst a persuasive smile, he begged, “If Adrie sees I have a cool Band-aid, and she doesn’t get one too, she’ll be upset.”

“That’s not fair.” Not like you cared if he took things from work, but if the Band-aids were for Adrie, you’d give him the entire tin, and he knew it. “You play a mean game, Eddie, using my greatest weakness against me.”

He took another Bert and Ernie, and slipped them in with the others, patting his pocket flat.

In a defeated sigh, you crumbled under the smug display of his proud chest, gaze trained on the cursive lettering composing his name, the motor oil blackening his cuticles, and the grease stain on his coveralls from the french fry he dropped earlier.

“Who’s the pushover now?”

“Considering you’re robbing me of Sesame Street Band-aids to bribe your daughter out of a tantrum?” You looked him up and down, from his half-closed eyes to the ketchup stain. “Still you.”

He hummed a warm reply, and twitched his other hand closed, curling his fingers over yours for a split second. A movement stunted by the bandages. Likewise, you drummed your fingertips on the heel of his palm, and let go.

“Wear your gloves next time, idiot.”

“Yes, dear.”

————

Taking on the role of Office Administrator meant one thing to the both of you: less time together.

The interactions were fleeting; sneaking a glance at each other when Eddie made an unnecessary trip to the breakroom to get his jacket for an equally unnecessary smoke break. But it meant he’d pass by Mr. Moore’s office twice while you were being taught how to fill out ledgers and spreadsheets. Two possibilities for you to become enamored with his hair flowing from underneath his bandana, and two chances for him to capture your interest with his charm–his larger than life presence stomping past the door with his chin held high and his hands in his back pockets, looking at you out the corner of his eye, and giving you that tight, knowing grin.

It was lonely working in the mornings, having a short lunch at your desk while scheduling business meetings with salesmen for Mr. Moore, and clocking out at 4PM to help take care of things at home while Robin was managing the night shift, and her dad was on bed rest.

You missed Eddie.

Eddie missed you.

————

It was a cold, bleak mid-December night after a dreary day of clouds and wind. The service bay doors were closed, except for one to allow the draft to carry out lingering exhaust fumes. Darkness smothered the world beyond the auto shop, interrupted intermittently by the odd car stopping at the streetlight. Turn signals blinked. Headlights peered into the warehouse, shining light on the single truck in the empty garage.

Blissful, tranquil winter. Crisp, throat-aching air. Bites of frost sinking into flesh. Numbed fingers. Frozen teeth nipping at the bone. Undisturbed. Quiet. No music.

“Man, it’s freezing in the lobby,” you complained loudly upon entering Eddie’s domain and crouching in front of the space heater next to the workbench.

The pair of legs sticking out from under the truck shifted.

Surprised by your sudden appearance, and grumpy about the loss of hot air directed at him, Eddie beat his wrench on the wheel axle to show his annoyance when you giggled and refused to move. In fact, you hunkered down, rubbing your palms together, hogging all the warmth while having the audacity to wear his tan work jacket.

He tapped the heel of his heavy work boot at you. “I thought you left for the day.”

“Did you really not notice me at my desk for the past hour?”

After waving the tool at the underside of the truck he’d been staring at for the better part of the evening, he then tucked his chin to make a snide remark, “Do you think I keep track of your whereabouts at all times?”

“Yes.”

No response except for a sour expression. Predictable. It was in his best interest to roll his head to the side, and pretend to be working by muttering mathematics to himself. You, however, stood up, and sidestepped the heater to read the buttons on the stereo radio, and dug for the cassette you slipped into the jacket’s pocket before coming out here.

Snap. Click. Whirr.

The black tape spun on the wheels, and from the speakers strung at the back corners of the garage, music began.

Eddie’s groan rose above the plucky piano keys. “Oh, please don’t tell me you’re subjecting me to Christmas music.”

You shushed him, “It’s just jazz.”

Ella Fitzgerald’s warbling hum filled the concrete walls. Her stunning voice and evocative, blunt lyrics soothed your eyes closed. Face-burning words you weren’t ashamed of. You let them take you. Dipping and swaying your shoulders side to side as the piano lulled you into its drunken blitheness. Guiding you two steps to the left, the right. A lazy turn. Paused on the cusp of anticipation. You stopped. Blinked lovingly at the boots beneath you.

“May I have this dance?”

Metal clinked to the ground. Eddie gripped the edge of the car, and pulled himself out. Pushed himself into a sitting position on the creeper, focusing on your hand extended to him, and climbing his gaze upwards. To the smudges of pencil lead and blue pen ink on the inside of your fingers from where you gripped the writing utensils, to the coffee stain on the cuff of his jacket, the name patch, the roundness of your cheeks from your hopeful smile.

“My hands are dirty,” he said.

“I don’t care.” You urged in all gentleness, “Don’t turn me down because you’re shy. I’ll teach you.”

Teach me, he mouthed.

A delicious secret emerged.

Excitement, charismatic boisterousness, unhesitating–eager–sincere excessive vulnerability, bursting to be the shameless youth he used to be and oh so endearing–Eddie sprang into action at the upkick in tempo. The namesake of the song vibrated under his ribs–I’ve Got a Crush On You–and the garage blurred in your dizzy eyes.

Eddie, Eddie, eddie eddie eddie, eddieeddieeddie. Hawkins’ reject, the town’s outcast, Eddie, in all his awkward, standoffish exterior built to protect his sensitive heart, swept your right hand into his left. Raised them. Compelled you into a fast, tight spin under his arm, and at the rotation’s completion, you sank into each other’s embrace like a released breath.

You used the solid curve of his shoulder as leverage, and fit your other hand in the space between his thumb and index.

Eddie didn’t lead.

He demanded you follow.

His muscles were braced with ego as he ushered you backwards. Large advances towards you, forcing you away from the truck, and half-turns to the side with an appropriate pressure at your waist to follow him to the unoccupied center of the garage. But his modest hand grew longing in the distance as you struggled to keep up in the short chase. The thick jacket meant for durability kept him wanting more, and he used it to reel you in. Draw you near. Bodies untouching, but radiating heat in the hushed sigh of winter rolling in from the service door.

Not once had you managed to sound the question on your parted lips, but he understood it, and answered.

“You’re not the only theater kid,” he said softly. “It was the only elective I liked. Had to learn to dance for a few parts over the years, and if I may judge by your reaction, I’m not half-bad.”

You laughed, “Wh-Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

The smug grin he wore waned to something more humble in nature. “Mm-nn. I never wanted to interrupt your stories. It’s more interesting listening to you talk about how you played a witch in a slutty Off-Off-Broadway rendition of Macbeth where you managed to snap both your stilettos in the first Act, than it is for me to go on about how I played background character #4 in my second senior year of high school and mostly used the class as an excuse to make props and shit.”

“Eddie,” you whined. Once upon a time, during your first days working here, he told you to leave him alone for jabbering on about the theater works you and Robin were a part of, and now he reveals this? “I didn’t even think you were listening when I told you those stories. And again! Why–didn’t–you–tell me?” Your words were minced from you shaking his shoulder.

“I didn’t think it’d be relevant,” he explained, speaking in that shy mumble of his.

“We could’ve been dancing this whole time.”

Eddie hung his head back, and bounced his brows upward. “Mmm. You make it sound like you’ve been wanting to do this since we met.” His hum, his words sent his Adam’s apple crawling up the deep shadows his jaw cast on his throat. Vibrating from within his alluring chest, and coming from the plump lips which appeared less blemished since the last time you were blessed with studying them up close.

The tube of Carmex you found in his pocket was doing wonders.

Basking in the overhead lights as flowers did in the sun, he listened to the end of the song fade. He willed his eyes half-open as it switched, dropped his face to lock onto your gaze, and obeyed the slower rhythm. Languid lurches into your compliant hips to the smooth saxophone. Step, step– With a pivot, guiding you around the floor in an unpredictable routine. One which kept you guessing. Had the rolled cuff of his pants brushing against your ankle, and his body coaxing you into a quick reverse turn at the piping trumpets on the following track. Broached the intimacy of his scent in your nose. Of course he didn’t smell great after a long day of working, but.. By your racing heart rushing blood in your ears, you had to admit, you didn’t find it as gross as you should, either.

Breaking you from your trance of staring at the frizzy baby curls sticking to the dried sweat on his neck, he suggested, “Dip?”

Your surprised shriek bubbled into a scathing yelp of Mother Fu–.

Impatient, ineloquent, and forgetful of manners. It was by the grace of your muscle memory you grappled for his upper body before your eyes could adjust to the upside down car cruising by the shop, puttering to a stop at the intersection. The arch he put in your back was wicked. Sinful, even. Supported by his strong arms.

Merciful, he righted your world. And in reconciliation, he observed you with the same obsessive interest he showed when he made you laugh. Watching for your reaction, and when it was adoring, he relaxed the apology from his features.

He hooked a finger around the lock of hair stuck at the corner of his mouth, and pulled it free; clasped your hand again–the other was slipped under the back of the jacket, and he settled his forearm around your waist, hot palm on your spine.

You took the cue. You climbed the scope of his shoulder to wager your dignity on the tight muscle at the crook of his neck. When he didn’t object, and his easy grin remained, you ventured under his unruly mane and found the back of his neck. You slipped your thumb into his collar, and rested it along the naked skin of his nape.

He shivered.

A car passed by.

The gossipers of Hawkins watched a mechanic and his boss’ receptionist-turned-Office-Administrator stare into each other’s eyes, and sway.

The distance between you two was unassuming, except for the tastes of more when the music encouraged, twirling yourself under his lifted arm as two separate beings, and rejoining as a pair, rocking back and forth, side to side, smiling from the exploration into something new.

The drum beats ebbed to a drowsy cadence.

Minutes passed. The embrace became familiar. Your held hands were sticky with shared dust and nervous sweat. His exhale mingled with your inhale. The steady sway was a polite shuffle in either direction, any direction. It didn’t matter. The embrace was the point.

“As Office Administrator,” you started, “I wanted to throw a party next week, the day before our holiday off. It’d be right after work, if you wanted to hang out, eat, and maybe bring Adrie?”

Before he could answer, you lowered your voice to an all-too-candid beg, “Please? I promise it won’t be boring. Mr. Moore said no one’s thrown a work party before, and I’m terrified no one but Kevin and his three dogs will show up.” You put a compassionate squeeze on the back of his neck. “Please don’t let it just be me, Kevin, and his three dogs.”

The bottom of Eddie’s two front teeth showed as he spoke on the verge of a grin, “I thought he only had two.”

You whispered dramatically, “It’s three now.”

He pretended to think over the offer, shifting from foot to foot.

“Eddie.”

As if he could keep up the act when you craved his name like that. “I’ll go,” he placated you, but not before inclining his head, viewing you through his messy bangs and long lashes. “And of course I’ll bring Adrie.”

You celebrated by punching up your linked hands–yours smelling of pencil shavings, and his of burnt brake pads. Eddie used it to maneuver you into another turn. Smooth, suave. A true gentleman.

“Would you help me decorate too?” you dared ask. His answer was an apathetic grumble. “And maybe bring any non-denominational wintry decorations you have because all I could find in town were very red and green, and very Christmas-leaning.”

“You’re not sweetening the deal.”

“But it’s a ‘yes,’ isn’t it?”

Another dissuasive grumble.

Whimsy, breathless lyrics about fresh love trilled from the speakers. The cassette was on its last song before needing to be flipped.

“Do you really listen to jazz?” he asked, skirting into the territory of curiosity as his frame rocked you to the left.

“I listen to a little bit of everything,” you answered honestly, engaging in a fluid stride to the right. “Are you asking because of the music you listen to?” At once, your expression went wry, and his widened to barely constrained intrigue, like you were two steps ahead of him, reading his private thoughts. “The kinda stuff you blast when you think I’m not around.”

“You’ve heard that?”

Not helping the pink hue stemming from the hot base of his neck beneath your palm, you were quick to tease him, “Well, I’m not exactly competing in the Tour de France, y’know. You don’t wait for me to ride away before starting up your little concerts in here when you tell me to leave early. Bet you play air-guitar ‘nd everything when I’m gone, like a dork.”

Visibly curbing his habit to lick his lips, not desiring the swipe of dust it’d come with, Eddie narrowed his eyes, and cocked his head back to regard you down the slope of his nose. “Yeah? And what do you think of the music I listen to?”

“Unsurprising. Suits your image.” Engaging in a bit of intentionality, you worked your hand from his nape and introduced your fingertips to his other shoulder, wrapping your arm tighter around him, and you were enveloped by his warmth doing the same. The waistband of his coveralls rubbed against the metal zipper of his bulky jacket you wore as you moved in unison. “I recognize the big stuff. Metallica, Iron Maiden, Judas Priest..” You shrugged. “Accept?”

The tip of Eddie’s nose came into focus, then his big eyes searching yours as he turned his face side to side, examining you up close. “I wasn’t even playing Balls to the Wall. No one just casually names Accept like that. You like them!”

“Okay, okay, slow down, don’t get too excited,” you calmed him before he strained a tendon in the very finger he pointed at you. “I’ve couch surfed with a lot of weirdos, and lived with six roommates at one point. I’ve listened to my fair share of music through thin walls whether I liked it or not.. But yeah, I like metal enough, I guess.”

Though he unlinked your waltzing hands in his rush to assert himself in your personal space, his arm around your waist persisted–and if he were wary of crossing boundaries, he showed no heed when he employed his strength to press your chests together through the layers of clothes in a sense of spontaneity.

Your view was eclipsed by the thrill in his boyish grin, and then, his hair was slipping from your curious fingers.

“Wait here–!”

And he was gone. His body heat bounded away and out the back door. You were stunned with your hands still posed as if he were there.

You dropped your arms to your sides, and clutched the rugged canvas jacket around you, waiting, listening to the gravel crunch and a car door slam, peering out into the dark to see what became so important he left his dancing partner in the middle of the warehouse in utter confusion.

“Got it,” he said in his stride to the stereo.

“Got what?” It was rude enough to abandon you, and now he was ignoring you in his frenzy. You followed him to the workbench, and turned to the side to rest your hip on it. The heater thawed your shins while Eddie pried open a cassette, but you couldn’t read the front from how he held it in his palms.

Snap. Click. Whirr.

He leaned his ass on the table top and folded his arms over his chest, instilling a narrow distance between you two. His gaze was on the floor. Eyes falling closed. For once, he did not want to see your reaction.

The speakers crackled with static.

You startled.

It was a hard left turn from the somber jazz from before.

Drumsticks crashed on cymbals, setting the aggressive pace for a piercing guitar to enter on a screeching note, quickly devolving into thrashy chords sure to make the fingers sore, along with a bass and rhythm guitar that were getting lost in your pounding head.

Though he wasn’t watching, you schooled the surprise from your features, and relaxed your shoulders. The music wasn’t offensive in the least, but it was loud.

After the initial assault, and a quick bass solo, you were nodding along, enjoying the overwhelming beat pulsing in your throat making it difficult to breathe.

The shredding guitar wept to a softer bridge, and the vocals began.

The vocals began.

The vocals..

The lyrics were spoken–sung–with the last word being dragged into a melodic ballad as the instruments went silent. A rich note held by a man whose voice was neither deep, nor falsetto. Perfectly in the middle. Perfectly fitting your preference. Perfectly matching the one you heard most days, and thought about at night, when your bed was lonely and your body was flushed with heat.

Perfectly matching..

You snapped your attention to Eddie’s face. His eyelids twitched with movement. Individual curls of his hair swung in time to his head dipping to the tempo. His cheek jumped at the start of the next verse, and he dug his fingernails into his sleeve until they turned white.

“This is you,” you expelled in pure infatuation. “Eddie!” You clasped his bicep, and leaned in to him, excelling at matching his enthusiasm from earlier, and surpassing it. “Eddie, this is you!” He opened his eyes and slouched away from your efforts in a laugh, angling his face into his hair to hide his shy grin.

You ran your hand along his forearm and tugged, wheedling him out of the tight hug he had himself locked in, urging him to open up. “This is you singing, isn’t it? This is your band.” The cassette case was behind him. Corroded Coffin. Same name as what was on his sweatshirt on Halloween. 

The second button on his coveralls snapped open, below the one he always kept unfastened. You didn’t know at what point you were bold enough to put your hand on his chest, nor gather the fabric into your fist while shaking some sense into him, but you did. You really did expose the tight white shirt clinging to his sticky skin. All for the sake of validating Eddie.

When he continued acting far too humble–shrinking into himself, and mumbling how it wasn’t that cool–you wasted no time embarrassing yourself by jumping on your tiptoes, telling him just how cool it was, you promised.

Reaching behind him, he slapped the volume knob down so you both could stop shouting.

“I appreciate the groupie attitude, but it’s not like we’re a big deal, or anything,” he said, awkwardly folding one of his arms on top of the workbench as he surrendered and turned to you. His other hand hesitated near the bottom of the jacket. “About once a month we get a gig in Indy. Doesn’t pay much, but it covers the cost of the trip, and we get a decent crowd, I guess. Uhm, the venue sells out.. sometimes. People know some of the lyrics. We sell a couple of shirts..” he trailed off upon making eye contact. “We only get to practice on the days I leave work early. Maybe on the weekend.. so.”

Overflowing with sincerity, you trusted your hands to behave themselves on his forearm, laying your decent fingers over the tensed muscle above his wrist where he wore his watch.

He canted his head, and gave you a cynical look. “It’s not like we’re famous or anything.”

“I think it’s so cool you’re in a band,” you stressed. “How come you never told me?”

Shrugging, he glanced elsewhere. “Being you, and being from New York, you probably know hundreds of bands who’ve made it big. I’m sure you’ve met way more impressive people.”

Is that what this was about? Not sharing his theatrical past, and now his band because he was insecure about not impressing you, of all things? Using a resentful tone when speaking about his life versus yours, as if the comparisons mattered when it took all of your willpower to not stare at his lips in this proximity.

“Who cares who I’ve met. You sound amazing. The music, your voice. Everything. It’s uniquely yours, and I can’t believe you didn’t tell me sooner.”

Eddie sighed.

Cozying into the position, he leaned his weight on the arm you cupped your palms over, and there was a pull at the hem of the jacket. You shifted closer. He looped his finger into the pocket and rubbed his thumb along the edge of it, seeking an absent-minded distraction as he explained, “I also didn’t want to, ah–I don’t know.. Scare you off. Like, if you didn’t like it, or thought heavy metal was Satanic, or some shit.”

“Scare me off?” At least, you intended to repeat it back to him as a question, but your laugh interrupted you. “Oh, Eddie. Light of my day, my neverending fountain of mirth, a true joy to be around,” you gushed at his exaggerated sneer. “If you didn’t scare me off the first week of meeting you, where you made it a point to glare at me for the mere act of speaking in your direction, I don’t think your very obvious music taste would.”

He looked at his boots for a moment to reflect on his behavior, but forwent an apology, and instead asked, “So, you don’t think it’s lame for me to be pushing 30-years-old, and still playing in a garage band?” There was a truncated tension at the end of his question, like he wanted to add more self-deprecation to it, but stopped himself. Good thing, too, because you were about to voice your adulations until you were rendered to a puddle of embarrassment.

Sparing no sarcasm, you furrowed your brows and screwed your mouth into a snarky grin as you rolled your eyes. “Yeah, girls find it totally lame when hot guys with long hair drive fast cars and play loud music and are in a band. It’s totally the most unattractive thing, especially when they have tattoos and are good singers. Definitely isn’t a turn-on at all.”

Too far, too much, too inappropriate–

The last sentence was over the line, and you could see it in his surprised eyebrows wrinkling his forehead, and his wide pupils boring into yours, and his cheeks reddening as your words sank in.

The garage went viscerally quiet.

He stopped fidgeting with the jacket pocket.

Mistake, mistake, mistake.

“Not just the vocalist,” he said, voice cracking on the whisper. “I play lead guitar, too.”

You spat out, “Very cool,” desperate for the relief of his face cracking into a flattered grin.

But no, Eddie didn’t grant you such comfort. However, he did spare you the chance to scratch at the anxious sweat dripping down your back when he rearranged how he was standing, and spun around to the stereo. “It’s pretty late, huh? We should probably get going.” He pressed his hips to the workbench as he organized the tapes into their cases. Then, he paused.

The case yours went to was blank. Nothing written on the dotted lines on the back, nor on the front of the tape.

“I need my jacket back,” he reminded you.

“R-Right.”

You shimmied it off, and handed it to him. He draped it over his arm, and clutched the bulk to his stomach, covering his front as he turned to face you again. “Here.” Holding out the black and white cassette with a stylized logo he drew himself, he gave you his personal copy of Corroded Coffin’s first recording session. “You take mine. I’ll take yours.”

“Are you sure?”

Staring at the mixtape compiled of the cheesy love songs you made over the course of a few nights, he nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure.” And as he dragged his feet backwards–avoiding the space heater without looking–he said on his way to the tray where he kept his rings, “We should do this again. The whole.. dancing thing.” He gestured with the tape. “I’ll pick the music next time, too.”

With his back to you, he cleaned up his station, and let you know you could go. “I’ll lock up behind you.”

“You never answered if you were helping me hang decorations,” you found your voice. It was hiding behind a hammering heart, and shallow-filled lungs.

Outside, a car honked at a truck to take their turn at a green light.

The metal teeth on his jacket ground together as Eddie zipped it up. He sank his heavy hands into the pockets to weigh them down, and crossed his work boots at the ankle to about-face in a sort of pirouette, pinning you with his lopsided grin and mellow demeanor. “You know, I thought with all the life lessons I’ve had to learn over the past five years, I’d be able to resist a pretty girl asking me to do things for her.” He snorted and flicked his eyes to the ceiling, shaking his head. “But when they’re as beautiful as you, I just can’t.”

His gaze came crashing down onto you, and your tongue froze at the tip of your teeth.

“Alright, Casanova,” you let out in a shaky breath. “I’ll take that as you agreeing, and will see you bright and early, and without any complaints.” You left as fast as you could.

No, really. The Tour de France better have a spot open for you, with how fast you pedaled home to sit on your bed, cross legged, happily ruining your hearing from having the volume scrolled to the max on your Walkman, listening to Eddie’s voice, wondering at what point the endorphins would wear off and you were stuck agonizing over how blatant you were about calling your coworker hot. And how he called you beautiful in return.

————

Talking amongst the sputtering coffee machine beginning its brew:

“The fourth one–uh–Solivagant, is definitely my favorite!”

“That one’s instrumental,” Eddie pouted. “And here I was under the impression you liked my lyrics.. Mm, a little lower on your side.”

You put blu-tack on your end of the banner, and pressed it into the wall. “I do! But that one really got stuck in my head. The way all the guitars came together to play the harmony was just–Eddie! You did that on purpose.”

Stepping around to the other side of the lunch table, you threw your head back in a groan at the glittery Happy Holidays sign you wrongly assumed he would help you hang without turning it into a way to tease you.

“You’re the worst,” you grumbled on your way to fix the banner so it was even, and his side wasn’t higher by a few inches.

“Sorry,” he said weakly between his snickering. “Let me.”

There was no letting him do what he wanted. He was going to push his way into your space, regardless. Literally, shoving a chair out of his way with his hip, and standing behind you to peel the sticky tacky off the wall, and raising it from your face’s height, to slightly above your head, needlessly, infuriatingly, unhelpfully helping you. Barging in with his hand on your shoulder, and his body at your back. Closer, more intimate than the time at the grocery store.

His inhale swelled his solid chest against your shoulder blades, and his hum rumbled down your spine. “Am I supposed to dress up nice for your party?”

You twisted your head back to admire the underside of his freshly shaven jaw smelling of astringent spice. “Only if you feel like it,” you guessed. “The dress I’m wearing is pretty casual, but you don’t have to do anything special if you don’t want to.” After circling his thumb over the tacky corner of the sign, he dropped his arms, grazing them over yours, if only in passing. “I think the other guys are wearing button down shirts.”

His gaze drifted as he visualized his closet.

You stared. “Do you really not have one nice shirt?”

“I might still have the one from my job interview,” he said, tucking his chin to look at you, creating a silly amount of wrinkles along his burgeoning grin.

The front door chimed. Either Carl, Kevin, or your boss just walked in, and it was then Eddie realized the position he had you in. It struck him when his peppermint-candy-and-cigarettes breath caressed your fluttering lashes, and he could discern the bubblegum flavored chapstick on your lips, just like you could observe the balm on his.

If someone saw him trapping you alone in the breakroom against the wall with your backside pressed to him, there would be no delicate conversation about consensual workplace relationships. He’d be gone.

“Sorry!”

Eddie made his swift retreat–three, no, four steps away.

You widened your eyes at him, at his obviousness, and tried to communicate through your facial expression you knew what he was thinking, and everything was okay. You two were a bit too comfortable around each other, that’s all. It wasn’t something serious he needed to explain away. No one caught him. It was innocent, like slow dancing when no one was around. Innocent. Teasing.

“I, uhm– Y-Yeah, the shirt.” He forced his fingers to unclench into limp fists at his side. Face pale, yet hot. “It’s–I’ll wear it.”

Wringing your hand around the fridge door handle, you bent towards him, and raised your eyebrows higher, imploring him to chill. “Eddie, you can come in a t-shirt and jeans. It doesn’t matter. Adrie can wear whatever she wants, too. It’s just a casual thing.”

Totally casual. Like the body heat fading from the back of your green knit sweater where his chest became acquainted with the acrylic. Dissipating on his skin beneath his coveralls where the crown of your head met his shoulder. Very casual.

“Uhm–”

“So..”

You both started, and ended.

“Mornin’!” Mr. Moore’s gruff greeting came from the hallway.

Treating it as a warning, you each responded with an acknowledgement of your boss’ appearance as he walked into the room. “Good morning!” and “Salutations!” To which you shut your eyes in exasperation at Eddie’s unusual welcome, begging him to act normal while Mr. Moore poured sugar in his coffee.

After stirring in complete silence, he took turns smiling at you both, and meandered to his office, closing the door behind him.

Eddie shifted topics to the table where piles of garland remained coiled.

“Should we–?”

“Wanna just, uh, forget decorating for today, ‘nd do it tomorrow?” you spoke over him.

“Yeah,” he answered, nodding too enthusiastically. He tossed his hair out of his face, revealing the red tips of his ears for a split-second, and said, “Tomorrow, yeah. We can do the rest of this shit tomorrow.”

A very graceful conversation between two people who just had a very ordinary interaction without any explicit implications.

“We’re still having lunch together later, right?” you asked.

“Duh. You’ve gotta finish giving me your thoughts on the rest of our EP. The chorus for Taladasian Empire has some meta references to the other songs, I don’t know if you caught onto that, but the second verse mentions..”

Oh, he was adorable when he hyperfixated. Not only did it steer the conversation away from the previous blood-scorching incident, but it was rather nice to have a reason to stare at his lips move a mile a minute as he conjured an unprompted dissertation about his music’s lore, even as you were sitting at your desk, pointing at your ringing phone, and suggesting he should also get to work.

There were only two days left before the long holiday, and customers needed their cars before the shop was closed for the break.

————

Kevin sipped his coffee in the early morning sunlight filtering through the garage.

You garnered Eddie’s help whenever he was available, and the current task was dressing up your receptionist desk to look like a big present, complete with a gold bow flowing over the ledge where the candy bowl sat. Eddie crouched at one end holding a roll of wrapping paper while you unfurled it to the other, and measured it to the side facing the lobby.

Kevin watched the interaction through a unique lens, noting how Eddie bounced on his heels, appearing both bored and anxious to get back to work, but when he glanced over at you–at your face pinched in concentration as you fought with the tape dispenser with one hand–it was as if his worries melted away.

The boy calmed down.

Though Kevin didn’t come in often, the effect you had on the misfit was overt in the sweetest way. It reminded him of his first and last love, who had since passed.

~~~

Carl sipped his coffee as he stood in the doorway to the breakroom.

The lobby was taken over by a cheerful wonderment.

Eddie was hanging white and blue streamers from the drop ceiling tiles, while you decorated the windows with silver snowflakes. At first, Carl thought Eddie was pinning them up around the perimeter of the room because he lacked direction, but then he saw why he insisted on following you around, setting up the step ladder directly behind you.

Without discussing it, you reached out for Eddie’s arm as you stepped onto the cushiony lobby chair customers sat in when waiting for their cars, and he was at the ready. He lent his balance to you, crooking his elbow for you to slot your fingers into, and once steady, you let go.

The conversation picked up where it was left off, and the decorating continued.

Now that the glass door was unblocked, Kevin shuffled inside with his cold mug to get a refill, and stopped next to Carl on his way to the coffee machine.

“You sure those two ain’t datin’?” he asked.

Carl shrugged with his mug on the way to his mouth. “Apparently not. Ed said they’re just friends.”

At a sound in the lobby, they craned their heads to the furthest wall to witness Eddie beaming down at you. His smile was a rarity, and watching the enormous emotion take over him when you touched his arm and laughed at his joke; it was a sight worthy of remembering.

Kevin scratched at the side of his head, then straightened out the bill to his baseball cap over his wispy white hair, and squinted at the mischievous glint in Carl’s eyes.

“But David did say he walked in on them looking mighty flustered yesterday.”

“Did he, now?”

Swallowing the hot coffee with a wet smack of his lips, he emphasized a drawn out, “Yep.”

Kevin suggested, “Maybe the holiday spirit will take over, and they’ll confess their feelings under some mistletoe.”

“Uck,” he replied with a disgusted noise. “You’re always such a romantic.”

“You’re the one starin’ at them,” Kevin countered on his way to the coffee pot, shuffling from the arthritis in his knees, and focusing his energy into keeping his trembling hand still as he poured his drink. “Besides, I think his little girl would appreciate having someone like her in their lives.”

————

Four hours before the party, the auto shop was swept into a flurry of activity.

Carl and Kevin each had vehicles to work on; driving a truck out to the parking lot for a customer to pick up after you called them, and driving a car in. Working in tandem to the jolly Christmas music on the radio. Crowding the garage with discarded packaging from parts that would be gathered to be burned later.

“Guh–” You hung up the phone, and pressed a button to erase what you previously recorded after you stuttered over part of your script.

This outgoing message thing wasn’t going well.

Sighing, you picked it up and pressed the record button again. “You’ve reached David’s Auto Shop at..” you enunciated the number and address in an even tone. “We’re currently closed for the Holidays, and will open at 8AM, Mon–”

The smell of cigarettes should’ve been your first warning. The hand tipping your office chair back should’ve been the second. The general Eddie-ism of it all should’ve been the third.

Eddie blew a raspberry directly into the receiver.

“You! Why! That one was perfect. God, you are so–freaking–annoying. I swear. Obnoxious little..” Fuming, you hung up, and glared at him.

He cackled on his way to the garage. “Hey, since you’re not busy, can you help me roll this stack of tires to the Buick over there?” Before you could share the choice words you had prepared for him–before you could process the droplets of spit drying on your cheek–before the door could hit him on the way out–he spun and caught it and ducked his head back in. “Oh! Don’t forget your policy. Can’t say no to helping me, huh?” On his smooth exit, he winked and made a clicking sound with his mouth, flashing a gratuitous amount of teeth on the smirk.

“You are the absolute worst.” You grabbed your hoodie and followed him, pointedly not thanking him for holding the door open for you. “And you know what? I seriously regret ever telling you about my dumbass policy.”

“Really? I’ve only just begun to actualize the potential for making you do things for me. I’m loving it!”

~~~

Three hours before the party, you put the finishing touches on the breakroom before Robin arrived with the food you ordered from the bakery and deli at the grocery store. Some was excess that would’ve gone to waste; extra cupcakes, and cookies. Other things were ordered, like finger sandwiches, veggie trays, and an arrangement of cheese cubes with those cute toothpicks that have red and green cellophane at the top. You also gave her money for the makings of smores, bags of pretzels, and crackers, themed plates and cups to match. The works.

You cleaned the countertop free of appliances, putting them away in the cupboards to make space and give outlets to the crockpots Mr. Moore’s wife was bringing later.

Otherwise, you shoved a tall stool borrowed from the garage in the corner of the room, and placed the small TV from Mr. Moore’s office on it, intending to play Holiday programs while people funneled in and out.

~~~

Two hours before the party, the sun was setting on the horizon. Eddie moved his car to the end of the alleyway, and Carl rolled out a barrel to be stuffed with leftover cardboard boxes, and firewood he brought from home.

He and Eddie moved the workbench to the service door, and set up the bigger TV so people could watch the football game while standing around the fire.

~~~

One hour before the party, the garage was cleared of anything that a child could hurt themselves on or with, and the shop was hushed in wait. Eddie left first to get Adrie from school, and go home to change. The other guys did the same, leaving to collect what family they were bringing, while you stayed behind to stress over having enough food to feed everyone, even after Robin dropped off more snacks than you remembered listing, along with your party clothes.

————

The evening began trepidatious.

Guests filled the lobby like a sea of warmly-dressed sardines. Scarves, mittens, jackets brushed necks, hands, shoulders. Those recognizing each other hugged, while three rambunctious dogs wove through their legs. You introduced yourself to Mr. Moore’s daughter, Misty, and waved at her newborn. Carl’s teenage sons took the opportunity of their mom being busy to throw pebbles at each other outside. Mr. Moore’s wife and her brother and his eldest son were either setting up food or starting the fire. There was a moody girl of unknown origin moping in the corner. You lost track. It was hard to concentrate in the excitement.

You tugged your sleeves into your palms, and looked around the room for what must’ve been the hundredth time..

Eddie was late, and it was difficult keeping the concern off your face.

“Don’t look so worried,” Kevin said, landing a hand on your back as he shuffled by, carrying the scent of lighter fluid and smoke. “Your date’s still in his car. Probably workin’ up the nerve to come see you.”

“He’s not my date,” you corrected with a comically repulsed frown, hoping he’d buy it. “We’re friends.”

A twinkle danced in his stark blue eyes, and his open-mouthed smile peeked from beneath his thick mustache. “Look out.”

Look out?

A pair of tiny arms hugged you around your ass, and if it wasn’t for the tell-tale giggle, your stomach would be flipping with a much different emotion.

“Adrie!” You twisted and subtly scooped her arms higher on your hips before cupping the back of her head, and hugging her to your leg in the warmest greeting you could muster while your brain went to mush.

“You made it,” you said, staring, staring, staring.

Eddie pressed his lips together as he looked from his daughter to you. Happiness etched itself in every facet of his expression; in the tight smile he failed to control, to the tenderness of his half-closed eyes shining behind his lashes, his confident stance with his hands slotted into his work jacket pockets, in his washed hair falling to one side as he let his head loll from the heavy thoughts swaying his shoulders in a slow rocking motion. Everything about him was relaxed upon seeing you.

“You look beautiful,” he complimented with a magnificent amount of ease, as if he wasn’t a bundle of anxiety minutes ago. Yet, he didn’t withhold his praise. In gradual seconds–each longer than the last–he beheld your appearance in the highest regard, noting the vast departure from the jeans you usually wore.

The burgundy pinafore dress fit you snug, and the hem stopped high on your thighs. The thin white turtleneck underneath clung to your figure, and your black pantyhose matched your chunky Mary Janes.

It was one beret and a baguette short from being an outfit you wore for a skit with your comedy troupe, but he didn’t have to know that.

“Really beautiful,” he said to himself, taking you in, his whisper lost amongst the beginning strums of Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree playing from the garage.

Adrie grabbed at the dress around your waist, chaining herself to you in a needy act for attention, and you stroked your thumb over her hair in return, eyes refusing to leave her father.

“And what about you, handsome?” You signaled it was his turn to show off.

So far, the formfitting gray slacks with a faint plaid pattern were doing him justice, but you wanted to see the whole thing.

Peacocking, Eddie lifted an arrogant brow on the same side of his smirk, and put some confidence in how he unzipped his jacket, savoring the anticipation. Opening it slowly to unveil, unfathomably, a button up shirt. White with blue stripes. Untucked, of course. Dropping the jacket from his shoulders, he strutted in a circle, giving you the full view of his back–no rugged coveralls, no leather, no durable canvas, no sweatshirt–just thin polycotton blend stretched over his frame alluding to his musculature.

Working the jacket back up his arms, he presented one of his legs forward. “Think I gained some weight since I last wore these. They used to fit better.”

Oh. Oh, no. They fit perfectly.

While he was busy looking at where the slacks tapered to his black boots, you were commending other areas. Like his thighs, where the pants gave a slim shadow where his boxers ended. And a little higher, to the place the fabric bunched around, and forced the zipper to curve outward. The real deal. The whole package. The big show.

Jesus..

“You look good,” you croaked out with the last of the air in your lungs. He jerked his head up, and smiled his usual way–too wide, a little askew, showing more teeth on one side than the other. “Should’ve known you’d be just as handsome dressed up as you are in a t-shirt and jeans.”

“You hear that, Adrie? It was worth it being late, because I look extra handsome.”

“I didn’t say extra–”

“Who cares,” she whined at him. After demonstrating an ounce of patience while her dad took a shower, washed his hair, shaved, spritzed on too much cologne, and stood in front of the mirror debating over wearing his nicer clothes or his usual ripped jeans for an excruciating number of minutes, she was at her limits. “My outfit is way, way, way cuter,” she argued in her kid-like way, fighting for your approval.

You crouched to her level, and she twirled in a circle, copying him. “Oh my gosh, you’re right! Your sweatshirt is way, way, way cuter than his boring clothes. What does it say?” Somewhere above you, you heard Eddie suck his teeth.

Adrie pinched the red pullover and held it out for you to read along with her.

“Santa’s.. Widdle helper.” The pronunciation wasn’t her fault. Upon closer inspection, the text did indeed spell ‘little’ as ‘wittl’.’

“And who’s that?” you asked, pointing at the character jumping out of a Christmas stocking on the front.

“Tweety Bird!”

“Alright!” You held your hand up, and she high-fived you.

Thrown back into reality at a dog’s yip, and Mr. Moore’s survey of heads, you let go of the romanticized bubble you surrounded yourself in, where it was just you, Adrie, and Eddie, and took heed of the packed room lurching towards the smell of cooked meatballs wafting in the air.

“Everyone here?” Mr. Moore asked, and when a murmur arose, he rubbed his hands together, and announced, “Let’s eat! Game starts soon.”

The sardine conglomerate moved as one, making a concentrated effort to form a line from the breakroom, down the hallway, and ending where you stood at the glass door. Adrie struggled to accept being last in line, but you prepared many distractions for her; the first of which being Eddie’s present.

“I got something for you,” you said, and reached over the ledge of your desk, patting around in search of the special item. He expressed an unreasonable amount of suspicion. “You have to promise to wear it. Or else..” You gave Adrie a look, and she had a pout at the ready if he didn’t comply.

“I don’t like it when you two gang up on me,” he mumbled, eyeing you.

“Too bad. Here.”

Eddie snorted at the red, white, fuzzy, jingly accessory in your hand. “Really?” he asked, and laughed, “Would’ve worn it anyway.”

After a pause where he held the Santa hat in strange contemplation, he humbly knelt on his knees to Adrie, and asked her to do the honors, “Wanna put it on for me?” She did so enthusiastically, jamming the hat on his head, rattling the bell at the end of the cap, and calling him Daddy Santa while roughly combing his hair. He was sure to hold your gaze as he prompted Adrie, “Not real Santa, right?”

“No, you’re Daddy Santa. Real Santa is coming in two days! And he’s bringing me lots of presents because I’ve been good.”

You understood, then, the glaze of fatigue in the look he gave you. It’d be a few more years until Adrie thanked him for the miracles in her life, the food in her belly, the roof over her head, and as a father, he only hoped he’d fix his situation before she learned the full details of his sacrifices to raise her, to give her a room, to provide her with a bed of her own while he went without.

Still, he was in the constant battle of yearning for the acknowledgement, while fearing her growing up and discovering the real world.

A complex set of emotions to parse for both him and his daughter, and he had to do it alone.

“Ow, Adrie..”

Coming to his rescue when she began pinching his cheeks to a rosy state, you got her attention, “Don’t think I forgot about you, cutie pie.” From behind the ledge, you pulled out a pair of reindeer antlers on a headband, and slid them on for her, doubling as a way to keep her bangs out of her eyes.

Glee burst across her face in a smile which rivaled the dawning rays of the rising sun. Deep-seated satisfaction erupted in your chest at her joy over the small gesture. Her immediate desire was to be picked up by you, ready to be doted on, and in that moment, you wanted nothing other than to gather her in your arms. But Eddie stole her for himself. You were left Adrie-less. And the fact it bothered you, and the fact making his daughter happy affected you in a way you’d only begun to unpack last week when you asked Robin to drive you to the toy store at the mall, was complicated.

“You can’t coerce Miss Mouse into picking you up at your command,” he told her in a playful tone. “You’re a big girl now, and only Daddy’s strong enough to hold you.”

“Oh, puh-lease.” As if your tongue wasn’t already stuck out in disgust, it certainly was when he made a show of flexing his biceps. Under his jacket. Like that would prove anything.

Now, if he were wearing less..

You latched onto the change of subject in your mind, and moved on with the night, away from the poignant feelings of longing for something you hadn’t quite figured out yet.

For now, you made a sardine family. You, Adrie, and Eddie. Your hand in hers, she on his hip, and his kiss to her forehead, fond of one another. Huddled in shared conversation–the type where everything faded away. No one else. Just you, Adrie, and Eddie.

You volunteered to make their dinner. With Adrie clinging to his side, she was able to boss you into putting whatever she wanted on her plate, and you checked Eddie’s amused face every time she added another carrot or ham pinwheel, knowing he’d be the one to eat it when she was full. After hers, you made his, and after his, you made yours. Balancing them all on your palms and forearm, and bringing them to your desk, assuring Eddie he could have the office chair while you took the black stool.

Poor him, though. He sat with Adrie in his lap, desperate to maneuver around her antlers to get a mini cupcake in his mouth while you freely ate your sandwiches, and answered her questions about if reindeer were real, and if they could fly. (Yes, and yes.)

Other guests were present in the lobby, you knew, but at the impact of your knee prodding Eddie’s thigh, and his sly grin over Adrie’s head, they faded away once more.

Until a flash startled you both from your ga-ga gazing into each other’s eyes.

“Just saving memories!” Kevin exclaimed, scrolling his thumb over the disposable camera’s film cog.

And before you could blink away the spot invading your vision, he was gone. “Hope we looked good, at least,” you said to Eddie, not having a candid picture taken since you moved to Hawkins.

He snorted, and leaned around Adrie to see the meatball he was quartering for her with a plastic fork. “I don’t think you have to worry about that, sweetheart.”

Your heart fluttered at the endearment. He said it in a casual manner, not like when he was trying to fluster you. And the compliment was sincere, not teasing. It was sweet, with his arm around his daughter to keep her from squirming away, and the warm comfort of his leg against yours, body heat transferring from his slacks through your thin pantyhose.

A moment you’d like to remember. Including..

“Here,” you giggled.

He looked at the napkin you held out to him, and where you tapped at the corner of your mouth. “Oh.”

In true Eddie fashion, he used his tongue to edge at the green icing, following it with his thumb to get whatever he missed and sucking the rest from his fingers while still managing to entertain Adrie with questions about what she did in preschool today, and dipping a carrot in ranch, dropping some of it too onto his pinky and licking that off without hesitation too. A chaotic mess of a man.

~~~

As predicted, it didn’t take long for Adrie to get bored, and she wandered off to play with Kevin’s dogs. Eddie took it upon himself to finish the monumental task of eating the assortment of leftovers she surrendered on her plate. A real hero of the times, scarfing down the butter ring cookies she wore on her fingers, and downing the sip of juice she didn’t want.

The conversation between you two was the easy kind. Simple, flowing. He slouched to the side with his elbow on the desk, cheek to his fist, legs spread,  listening to you talk about nothing.

“And as you can see” –You pulled open the second drawer to the short filing cabinet under your desk– “I’m all organized for the new year. Got my Post-it notes, a new set of highlighters, some of those fancy pens that make my handwriting look nicer. Living a life of luxury over here.”

“Very cool,” he replied in a hollow tone, implying it was in a mocking ‘you’re adorable’ kind of way, and not a ‘wow, you bought the Bugs Bunny themed sticky notes, that’s very cool of you’ kind of way.

You pushed the drawer closed with your foot, and rocked on your stool, grinning.

Beyond the circle of touching knees, fluorescent lights, and brave glances, there was an abrupt cheer at a scored touchdown. In the lobby, the mothers grouped the chairs together to adore the hiccuping newborn. In the parking lot, the teenage boys drove a remote control car around. The moody girl brought a skewer and marshmallows out to the fire. A Jack Russell terrier panted at your calf. Kevin patted Adrie’s head, and stooped to whisper a secret in her ear as they passed each other outside the glass door.

Eddie took the pom pom end of his Santa hat between two fingers and rattled the bell at you. He looked like he was about to speak, but someone special interrupted him.

“I’ve been sent on a mission. You have to come with me!”

You both turned to Adrie.

When neither of you did anything besides raise your eyebrows expectantly, and she didn’t give more context, nor information, she got impatient. “Come on!” she pleaded with a stomp, and grabbed your hand, and you grabbed Eddie’s sleeve on instinct, practically tripping him over your stool while she dragged you into the hallway.

After several feet, she stopped. You stopped, Eddie stopped.

“What’s the mission?” he played along, linking his hand in hers so you were one big circle. A sardine family.

She didn’t speak. Only grinned, and giggled.

Not catching on, you exchanged a confused shrug with Eddie, and asked her, “Is it a riddle?”

More laughter. Harder, more persistent tugs around your pinky and ring finger where she snared you. And a direct, focused smile aimed above your heads.

Slowly–slowly–slowly–

You straightened up from how you were bent over, and listened to Eddie’s clothes shift as he did the same. You followed the invisible line to where she was looking, tipping your head back in curiosity to see what was taped to the doorway exactly between you, and her beloved dad.

There was silence all around.

From the sharp leaves and red berries of the mistletoe, your gaze began its slow descent to Eddie’s. Passing over the red hat, the wrinkled forehead with messy bangs flattened onto it, the worried eyebrows. His sickly pale cheeks, flushed red lips. Suspended in time. Heart in your tight throat, pounding pulse, stomach twisting. 

You searched the frightened sheen in his eyes.

“I didn’t hang that, I swear,” he whispered.

“I didn’t either,” you promised just as quickly.

It didn’t matter who did.

There was noise all around. The football game turned to a commercial, and heavy feet announced people entering the garage, and approaching the glass door, coming inside to refresh their drinks and nibble at the cheese cubes.

Quickly–quickly–quickly–

“She.. We’ve been watching a lot of Christmas movies, and she must’ve seen it in one of them.” Lowering his voice, he brought his hand up in a sympathetic gesture, trying to explain her behavior. You let go of his sleeve. “She doesn’t understand.. The meaning, and everything.” He paused. “Us.” Another pause, a tic in his lower lip like a tremble. “Working together, and stuff.” Voice almost mute. “That w-we can’t..”

As much as you wanted to smash your lips on his to stop him from overexplaining the multitude of reasons you two couldn’t, or shouldn’t kiss, (you’re at work, this place smells like meatballs, his daughter is right there, Mr. Moore’s shadow breached the lobby, the fact Eddie chose listing coworkers as his rationale for not kissing you and not because you two were friends, but then again, what if he was about to say that, that he only saw you as a friend, and maybe being coworkers was an easier excuse than saying he wasn’t into you like that, oh god–), you had to get out of this situation with grace.

“No, yeah, I get it. Uhm.” Think fast, think fast, think fast. “You know who else is under the mistletoe, hmm?” you drew out the hum to build tension, setting your sights on your target.

Adrie squealed when you snatched her up and spun in a circle, attacking her cheeks with an unrelenting amount of kisses; the type that were quick pecks with lots of kissy noises, so saccharine and fawning and annoying to listen to. Tender and pure and tempting to the man who made a conscious effort to release the pinch of frustration from his face, and remorse from his discontent sigh before answering your question.

“Can she have one of these chocolate snowmen?”

“Only if you’re willing to tire her out before we leave,” Eddie said, taking intentional steps towards you and Adrie on your hip, leaving the mistletoe and its implications behind. He placed a friendly hand along your shoulder blade. His other hand was more menacing on her back, as indicated by her eyes growing large.

He warned her in a stern tone, “If you have too much sugar and keep me up all night, you’ll never have another dessert again.”

She called him out, point blank, nose turned up in triumph. “You’ve already said that before, and I got cookies anyway.”

Your cookies, he said in a quick glance and eyebrow wag at you, before speaking to her again, “You got me there. However.. I would hate for Santa to find out you stayed up past your bedtime.” He sucked his teeth with a pitying shrug. “The consequences are steep. He’s very strict, you know.”

Adrie’s frown was serious.

Eddie was having too much fun using his one seasonal threat to get her to behave.

“Aw, don’t listen to him,” you soothed her. You lifted your chin so she could burrow her head against your neck, and amended, “Well, do listen to your dad, but I have something special planned for us, Adrie.” She roused out of her heart-wrenching pout, and hugged you harder, kicking her feet around your waist in excitement.

You smiled at him, but your gaze fell elsewhere, passing over the men in the hallway, and taking a last, long look at the mistletoe, seeing it for the confusing event it created, not the romantic scene it was known for. “I’ll take her for the night. You go watch the game, or something. Hang out with the adults. I’ve got her.”

The tiny room became overcrowded. Someone whispered, “Oh, aren’t they cute together,” and Eddie chewed on his inner cheek. He removed his hand from you, fingertips slipping over the back of your dress, catching the strap, then your side, below your ribs, above Adrie’s leg. Measured, methodical touches. Not accidents.

While his face lacked strong emotions, there were words in his eyes. Maybe they were an apology for the weirdness you now found yourselves in, or a thank you for taking her off his hands for a bit, or they were something else entirely. He didn’t say.

“You two have fun,” he expressed in his soft voice, and grabbed a cold soda on his way out.

~~~

A cold soda did not unwind him like a beer.

Eddie warmed himself by the barrel fire while the game played. Though any opportunity to talk with his peers rarely expanded past the usual topics of work and raising his daughter, and were frequently shadowed by what was happening on the screen, he didn’t mind the interruption. He knew the rules of the game enough to feel a sense of camaraderie when they celebrated. And really, he just wanted the time to think. Or not think. Definitely not think about how he reacted earlier, stumbling over his words to assure you he wasn’t some creep who hung mistletoe as a way to trick you into kissing him. Absolutely not agonize over his inability to articulate himself, and provide you with an out while also reminding himself why he shouldn’t listen to his impulse clawing to be released, and kiss you on the spot. And certainly not consider your mild response to the whole thing, and how your gaze lingered–for a millisecond–on his lips before you scooped Adrie into your arms.

Eddie ran the heel of palm along his jaw, back and forth, and worked it to the back of his neck, wringing his nape in tight squeezes to release the tension.

A beer was definitely better than soda, but so be it. He downed the rest of it, and justified going inside for another. Of course, his motives for going through the lobby weren’t to quench his thirst, but as he almost ran face-first into the glass door, his mouth went dry.

Your ass in the curve-hugging dress was the first thing he noticed. Noticed it because you were curled into the fetal position on the floor, pretending to die a dramatic death. Oh, and you were wearing a black cape adorned in shiny gold stars, and your mouse ears from Halloween, along with a crown.

The loud crunch of him crushing his soda can got your attention.

“You don’t always have to dress like a mouse for her; she knows who you are,” he said in cool nonchalance on his way to the fridge.

You pointed a pirate’s cutlass at him, regarding him down the plastic blade. “I’m the Rat King.”

The music on the portable radio changed moods from a battle march to a victorious, slow piece.

Ditching the mouse ears by throwing them aside into a small pile of other props, you instructed Adrie to exchange her rapier for a flower crown. “Ooh, ooh! And this is where Clara and the Nutcracker Prince dance. Yeah, hold my hand, lift your leg in arabesque. Just like that.” You walked around her, spinning her in a circle while she posed with her leg behind her, and when you let go, you granted her the stage to improv what ballet moves she knew through pop culture osmosis, clapping and gasping and cheering her on, both of you panting from the exertion of playing an entire cast of characters.

There was a pang in Eddie’s stomach. The usual stuff: wanting to watch, wanting to join, wanting to stop it. The jealousy of being left out of the intimate moment, the yearn to add a third to his and Adrie’s life, the grief of when things don’t work out and this was a mistake. Decisions, daydreams, the reality of you maybe moving away, maybe not. Maybe dating him, maybe not. Maybe making work a place he dreaded coming to again if he tried something and it ended in disaster.

He had no other job options.

And yet..

“Hey.” Eddie traced the rim of the chilled soda in his hand, collecting condensation. “Ah, the TV in there is playing those old claymation Christmas movies in a marathon. D’you guys wanna watch them with me?”

Teaching her to put her toe to her knee in the passé position, you asked, “Don’t you want to hang out and watch the game?” When he didn’t respond, you looked up at him. Immediately, your focus honed in on his shy habit of chewing on his bottom lip.

“Nah. Not really. I’d rather be in here.”

~~~

The breakroom lights were off, save for the dim set on either side of the sink lighting the buffet, and the air was humid from steam curling off the crockpots. On the table were three marshmallow snowmen held together by melted chocolate and pretzel stick arms; remnants of an impromptu competition of which he lost.

It was a warm and cozy affair, made more so by the three of you squished together to watch Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer on the small TV in the corner. 

Adrie nestled deeper into her baby blanket. She had the quilt cocooned around her, running her fingertips over her mouth while she watched. Beside her, you sat with your hands laced in your lap, and at the end, Eddie slumped diagonally in his seat, propping his elbow on the back of your chair. Half paying attention to the stop motion film, half congratulating himself on getting this far. It took all of Jack Frost to work up the courage to daintily set his elbow at the very corner of your chair, almost making contact with your shoulder without worrying if he sweated through his deodorant or cologne yet..

But what if his breath smelled bad from the weird combination of food he ate?

Fuck–

The golden retriever lounging on the floor behind Adrie wagged his tail. Kevin’s distinct shuffle came down the hallway. “Well here’s where you three gone off to,” he said. His dog lifted his head, and licked his lips in anticipation for a pet. “Don’t mind me, just came in for another pepperoni slice, isn’t that right, Coop?”

Cooper panted at his name.

Adrie mumbled around her fingers, “I love your puppy. He’s the best.”

“Yeah, she adores him,” you added.

“Aw, you’re a good boy, aren’t ya?” Kevin bent down to praise his dog with a couple of pets under the chin. And when he was finished, he made a fuss about his old knees, and the cold weather affecting them, and the–whatever else he said.

Upon struggling to stand, Kevin sought a place to put his hand for assistance–and wouldn’t you know, the perfect spot was right in front of him. He clutched Eddie’s forearm for purchase, which incidentally took him off guard before he could brace his muscles, and pinned it to the back of your chair. Once the move was complete, Kevin stood and patted the spot he held until Eddie’s arm curved flush against your shoulders. Then he winked and walked off, no longer shuffling. Eddie stared open-mouthed at the determination.

His insides clenched with unreleased tension. The holly hung in the doorway. Things he wasn’t supposed to do. Anxiety, nerves heightened with the sensation of your solid body breathing beneath the weight of him.

Adrie mumbled something about what was happening on screen, and you said something back, nodding.

It’s not like this was the first time he put his arm around a girl. But it was the first time he did so with the burden of pessimism warning him not to.

He scrutinized the side of your face for any sign of acknowledgement that his arm was around you, but if you cared, you didn’t show it. You remained poised as ever.

You didn’t mind, outwardly.

So he didn’t either.

It was only in front of his boss that he lifted his arm to comb the hair off his neck when Mr. Moore entered. And as soon as he was gone, Eddie strung it casually across the back of your chair again, twirling a curl of Adrie’s hair around his finger.

And when Carl came in, you sat forward for the entire duration of his stay, eating a marshmallow while he was in the room. And when he left, you sank back into your seat.

The third time someone came in, neither of you moved. You followed each other’s lead and did nothing. Subconsciously–or consciously–finding the courage to fit your bodies together in a purposeful way, relaxing towards one another, and slotting into the cushiony space his arm allowed against his bulky jacket.

Time went on like that.

The conversation between you two was the easy kind. Wordless, intuitive. Exchanged in the permanent grin affixed to his face, and your tender hums of affection when you looked at him or Adrie. Somewhere in the silent conversation, he summoned the balls to stroke his thumb–only once–over the soft slope of your bicep, and coped with the aftermath of studying the profile of your lips tugging up at the corners.

~~~

The party came to its natural conclusion when the game ended. Eddie scooped what was left in the crockpots into mismatched tupperware he brought from home, filling up an old butter container with chili, and rinsing out the cookware to give back to its original owner. He placed cupcakes in their plastic clamshell packaging, and downsized the veggie tray into a manageable load. You played the part of an amiable host, and wished everyone a happy holiday on their way out, insisting you’d take care of cleaning up. Really, it was no problem. You had Eddie with you, and Adrie was helping by falling asleep with a crayon in her hand.

Eddie listened to you usher them out the door, and lock it behind them once they drove away.

In truth, he preferred them gone when you both made trips to his car, loading the backseat with the leftovers. Didn’t matter if they were room temperature carrots, or the mangled overcooked meatballs from the bottom of the crockpot, he accepted them.

He took inventory of the last containers on the breakroom table while you woke up Adrie, and for once, he felt okay.

Normally stress chewed holes in his stomach this time of year, but knowing the panic of not paying the electric bill before incurring another late fee would be eliminated by the generous bonus Moore gave him in the white envelope tucked away in his inner jacket pocket, Eddie felt.. alright. Like things would be alright. He put enough aside for his daughter to have one big present this year, and things would be alright.

“Ready?” you asked, holding Adrie’s hand in the doorway.

“Yeah, it’s just these two containers, and we’re good. Were we doing anything about the decorations?”

“Nah.” You waved him off. “We can take them down after the break.”

More than happy to get home and reap the reward of a full night’s sleep, he picked her up mid-yawn, and you carried the last of the containers to the car for him. While you found available space to shove the tupperware without it spilling, Eddie swayed with Adrie. He rested his cheek on the top of her head, and closed his eyes, feeling himself meld into the drowsy moment, comforted by her weight in his arms.

He heard the gravel crunch from your movement, and your shivered exhale beneath your jacket. It was his turn to put Adrie in her carseat, but when he caught the dewy glimmer in your eye, he thought he might hold onto her for the next eternity if it meant he could earn that soft awe from you again.

However, it was cold out, and he should hurry up.

“Uh, there’s uh,” you started, standing back while he buckled Adrie in. “There’s actually one more thing inside.”

“There is?” he questioned dumbly. He glanced at your incessant finger guns pointed towards the back entrance door, and tried to picture what he left behind.

“Yeah, if you could just help me real quick.”

He shrugged and tucked the quilt tight around Adrie. “I’ll be right back, okay?” She nodded, and covered the lower half of her face with the blanket.

Still cool, calm, and collected, Eddie followed you into the garage, through the glass door, into the lobby, down the hallway, and stopped when you stopped. In the breakroom doorway. Under the..

He struggled to swallow around the lump in his throat.

Adrenaline raced to his nerves, to his brain, to his heart jumping in confusion. The addictive buzz enabled him to remember each detail of your lips parting, the sound of your shallow inhale, and the sting of doubt on his cheeks when you spun around and pried out the noisy keyring from your pocket, shaking them until you found the one to the storage closet.

You turned the key in the door opposite him in the hallway, and reached inside, into the dark. “I, uhm.. I got a present for Adrie, if that’s okay..”

“You..?” He went silent at the large gift bag you held out to him, with the giant portrait of jolly Saint Nick on the front bulging from what was inside.

Second guessing if you were overstepping boundaries with the gesture, you faltered, “If it’s not okay, I can, I guess–?”

“No, no,” he finally said, screwing his eyes shut at realizing he just stood there like a moron. “No, that’s, that’s so nice of you. I-I don’t even know what to say. Just, yeah.. You didn’t have to do something like that.” He accepted the bag, and hugged it to him, crushing the decorative tissue paper sticking out the top.

“I signed it as being from Santa. I figured that was appropriate.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s perfect. Uhm.. wow.”

He was doing his favorite trait–where his smile evolved into an open laugh; a little obnoxious, and a lot flirty–and he could tell when you beamed up at him and your cheesy grin overflowed into a giggle, it was your favorite trait too.

And you kept the presents rolling.

“As Office Administrator,” you said with a spry loveliness in your sidling up to him, “I have some insider knowledge that someone put in a good word for you, and uh, it looks like you’re getting a pretty nice raise at the beginning of the new year.” There was no mistaking who. “And I heard through the grapevine that Mr. Moore is going to start pulling from his retirement in June, and Misty isn’t interested in running the family business, so he’s seeking out a new owner,” you put more than a hint of inflection on the end of the sentence, and gave him a look.

You shrugged your shoulder to your chin. “Anyway, do with that information what you will.”

Eddie stayed stupefied, speechless, staring down at the bag. Because you were you, you ended the conversation with a weak punch to his arm when a car drove into the parking lot.

“That’s Robin,” you said.

He watched you walk away. Down the hall, into the lobby. Putting distance between him and the doorway to the breakroom, where his regrets taunted him.

The sharp leaves and red berries were lost amongst the shadows, but their warning rang true. The reasons he shouldn’t kiss you. The talk he never had with Adrie, the potential expiration date even if things did work out between you two, the issue of seeing each other every day and knowing he couldn’t handle the habitual rejection of ignoring the other’s existence if things went bad.

New year, same old coward.

Except.

An idea.

An impulse.

A vicious desire.

He rejected the rejection. “Wait!”

You turned, and jumped at his sudden appearance. Eyebrows raised in surprise, a fresh smile lighting up your face in the gentle moonlight.

Eddie stopped you by grabbing your hand, wielding you closer with his rough fingers pressed into your sweaty palm until your arms entwined, and your jackets rubbed. He dropped his head to the side with a shameful shake, and ran the tip of his tongue along his teeth, building to an apologetic admission. “I’m doing that thing again where I forget to thank you,” he said, not needing to speak above a whisper as he gazed down at you, unafraid.

“Then thank me,” you replied, curling your fingers around his.

His wavering voice went deeper in his chest, “Words don’t feel good enough anymore.” The bag under his arm crinkled as he lifted a finger at Robin who had come to peer inside the window, and very quickly made herself scarce after witnessing the moment she was intruding on. “You’re too sweet, and I don’t even get to drive you home.”

You encouraged him in a laugh. “Then think of another way to thank me that’s not transportation based.”

A bad thought bloomed warmth across his cheeks. “I will,” he promised, nodding. “I’ll find a better way to thank you for everything you’ve done for me and Adrie. Something good.”

“Looking forward to it.”

You lingered for a second, waiting, and when you both remained kissless, you rocked your body into him, cozying your sides together with your joined arms squeezed between in a sort of goodbye hug. “Speaking of Adrie, you might want to get back to her before she becomes a popsicle.”

He inhaled sharply and snapped his head up. “Yeah, I should probably go start the car.”

“Have a good holiday, Eddie. Get lots of rest over the break, okay?”

“I will, I will.”

With an absolutely astounding amount of memories made today, you were both content to step away from each other and go home to begin the tossing and turning, sickly sweet, cold-side-of-the-pillow reminiscing about the brave glances, and daring touches.

You reached for the door handle.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

You stalled with your back facing him. Thinking you were sly, you checked the reflection to see what part of you his gaze was admiring, and you laughed.

Finally. He was making eye contact with you through the glass.

“Goodnight, handsome,” you answered, and left with your smile ducked into your collar.

The evening ended spectacularly.

[salty-croissants]

Bullfrog and Rayman/Ramon x reader : mistletoes

Woo , Christmas special baby !!

Since tomorrow I’m gonna be away to spend time with family , I figured it would be best to post this today since I’m gonna be way too tired to write when I get back :,)👍

I love the ideas of the boys and the reader being soft during the holidays , it just really brings me joy ^^ 

Anyway , I hope it turned out okay , and make sure to have a wonderful Christmas 🎄❣️

Details : use of gender neutral reader ; 

established relationships ; 

presence of slightly suggestive themes , but mostly lots of fluff ❤️

Bullfrog 💚

Let’s start by saying that given how constantly vigilant Bullfrog is , it won’t be easy to try to sneak a mistletoe above him : 

he just has a way of knowing each and every one of your movements , so … 

Yep , better get ready for a challenge . 

< Hm ? Is that a mistletoe you’re holding , mon amour ? > 

< Aw noo - I thought I got you this time ! > 

He will probably apologize to you a lot for “ruining” your surprise , trying to make up for it with some extra affection and cuddles …

This frog is just an absolute sweetheart , and he’ll use any excuse he can use to show you just how much he loves you :,//)

< Honey , it’s okay , really ! You don’t have to feel bad about it ! 

I know you can’t help but be careful about what goes on around you , you’re being way too hard on yourself . > 

< Heh , merci y/n … you always know what to say  ~ > 

When you eventually manage to lure Bullfrog in the living room and tell him to look up , you’ll find that all your careful planning was definitely worth it just to see that lovely smile on his face …

< Well , look at that … tu m'as surpris , y/n ~ > 

Now come closer … it’s time I reward your hard work , ne penses tu pas ? ~ > 

Honestly he’ll take any excuse to kiss you , but this occasion feel even more special … You went out of your way to prepare such an adorable surprise for him , so you better believe that you and Bullfrog won’t be leaving your spot under the mistletoe for quite some time ;//) 

Rayman 🧡

Rayman is probably the most smooth and romantic man alive , so he will probably plan for a mistletoe surprise way ahead of you , from the very beginning of the holidays in fact .

Sometimes you can see him carrying Christmas lights around , and you can’t help but have the feeling that he has something in mind … 

< Hold on , let me help you with that Ray … why do you need these many lights anyway ? > 

< Ah , you’ll have to wait and see , honey : I think you’re gonna like it ~ > 

If there is one thing that Rayman loves is creating atmosphere , so the night you eventually go back to his lounge to find it all decorated ( with also tons of gifts for you , cause let’s not forget how much this guy loves to spoil you ;//> ) , you can’t help but feel an overwhelming joy at the thought that he did all of this just to make you smile …

< Heh , I take it you like my little surprise , hm ? ~ >

< Like it ? I love it Ray , it’s amazing ! 

You’re such a sweetheart , thank you so much ~ > 

< No need to thank me , it’s really the least I could do for you y/n !

Though if I were you , I’d take a look at the ceiling for a second … > 

As soon as you look up and see a mistletoe hanging above the two of you , the way you blush in realization is enough to make Rayman’s heart skip a beat …

He just can’t get enough of how beautiful you look right now , your cute features  illuminated by the lights he placed all over the room .

< Heh , I … wanted to make you a mistletoe surprise at some point too , but I think you’ve handled it way better than me , hun . > 

< Don’t worry my love , there’s plenty of time for another one … I’ll gladly take any chances I can get to kiss you , so that’s definitely not a problem for me ~ > 

His incredibly cheesy , adorable comment makes you chuckle , and when you lean forward to meet his lips you can hear Rayman sigh softly while kissing you back , almost like he had been looking forward to that moment all night …

You’re honestly anything he could ever ask for , and if he had the ability to stop time he would be more than happy to do it here under the mistletoe , alone with his beloved ❤️

Ramon 🖤

He isn’t … feeling very festive :

while he does his best to smile when he’s around you , Ramon’s mind is crowded with worries about Eden , about getting the both of you caught , but since you know him better than anyone you were quick to catch up to that . 

< Hey , it’s okay if you don’t feel like doing much for the holidays , y’know ?

We can just stay here and relax . > 

< Yeah , but … I don’t know , I would’ve liked to do something special for you , but we can’t go anywhere without risking to have those assholes notice us … > 

< Ram , we don’t have to … the best gift I could’ve wished for is already here , right next to me , so please don’t worry about that , okay ? > 

< Heh … that was very smooth y/n , not gonna lie ~ 

Seriously though , thank you … it means a lot . > 

Despite what you told him , Ramon is still very determined to find a way to show you his appreciation for everything you’ve done for him , so the moment he finds a mistletoe hidden in a box an idea crosses his mind : 

it may be small , but it might just work . 

< Hey y/n ? Could you come here ? > 

< Coming Ram ! Just give me a second , I was trying to see if we had enough ingredients to make some Christmas cookies … > 

As soon as you reach the living room , you get the feeling that there is something different about it , even though you can’t exactly pin point what it is …

However , when you look up and see the mistletoe hanging on the ceiling you realize what’s going on .

< Aw , that’s so cute love ! I - mm — > 

Before you can even finish your sentence , Ramon’s hands get a hold of you , gently pushing you down to lock your lips in a loving , passionate kiss …

You didn’t really expect that to happen , but you’re definitely not disappointed … not one bit .

< … here … take this as my gift for you , my love ~ 

I know it’s not much , but - > 

< Ramon , sweetie … > 

The moment your hand caresses his hair he immediately melts under your touch , his eyes never leaving yours as you smile tenderly at your boyfriend .

< It was perfect ~ > 

That was the start of a night filled with displays of affection , and while holding you in his arms in your bed Ramon can’t help but feel like the luckiest person in the world , even though you’re both wanted by Eden’s police forces …

For once , those worries can’t seem to torment him , and he couldn’t be happier . 

[gojo-mochi]

Open Collab For December/January (Since I posted this late haha!)

What's Dilfcember?

Dilf or (Dad I Like to Fuck) is a month for Dilfs of course! All and any kind of Dilfs are invited. Even if they're not technically a dilf, if they have daddy energy they're invited.

Rules and Outline:

❥Daddy Long Dick is landing down in December/January and I want you to help me greet them~

❥Any length of writing is fine~

❥Have to be a Dilf! (Even if it not canon) Gilf are also encouraged...

❥NSFW/SFW/DARK CONTENT is all Allowed! Just make sure to tag accordingly~

❥Open to any Dilfs from JJK or OP~

❥Open Limit for any characters~ Go wild!

❥Does not have to be Mutuals with me to Join!

❥Joining Ends Dec 31st

❥Submission deadline will be end of January/Start of Feb~ (to give people some time)

How to Join:

Comment or Message me with the Dilf you want to bag and a small outline/plot of the story. Include if it going to be NSFW/SFW/DARK CONTENT.

❥Snippet of a submission:

Hello! I would like to write for Toxic!Dilf!Shanks, it would dark content theme, and it would be about Shanks secretly fucking his son's best friend

The Current Line up!!!!!

Softy~ (@gojo-mochi)

ᥫ᭡. Single Dads AU W/Neighbor Reader: Starring~

ᥫ᭡. Choso with little bro Yuji and getting lost in the snowstorm (SFW)

ᥫ᭡. Geto with Mimiko and Nanako taking them to see christmas lights (SFW)

ᥫ᭡. Gojo with Megumi and Tsumiki (SFW) TBA LATER (IMSORRY)

ᥫ᭡."Working hard or hardly working?" You keep running into the hot apartmnet Dilf right after he's done working out... Gym!Dilf Zoro (NSFW)

ᥫ᭡."You're the father?!" You were supposed to babysit Yuuji today but instead you found a stranger in Choso's house...Dilf!Kenjaku (Dark Con) (NSFW)

ᥫ᭡. "Tell me your secrets, & I'll give you my heart" Toji scambling to find the perfect Christmas gift for you but things keeps going awry Dilf!Toji (SFW)

Cille~ (@bby-deerling)

ᥫ᭡. "Meeting your best friend's deadbeat dad for the first time~ Dilf!Buggy (NSFW)

ᥫ᭡. Read here!

Pris~ (@sleepymarimo)

ᥫ᭡. "white christmas" Little megumi has been asking for a baby brother or sister, while you’ve been wanting a white christmas. toji thinks he can do both this year! Dilf!Toji (NSFW)

ᥫ᭡. "under the mistletoe" Little brother yuji has been wanting you to get with choso for a while, so he takes matters into his own hands. (SFW) BigBro!Choso

Honey~ (@honeysworld-offanfiction)

ᥫ᭡. You find out your bf cheats on you. Crying is how your father’s friends, Rayleigh & Edward, find you. Since your dad is away unable to console you, his friends help you instead. Dilf!Rayleigh & Dilf!Edward (Dark Con) (NSFW) (Incest Play)

Stephis~ (@stephisokay)

ᥫ᭡. You’ve never visited your friends home before, he’s always so hesitant. But when he does for a friendly game, you find his dad. DILF!Sukuna (Dark Con) (NSFW)

Poison~ (@anystalker707)

ᥫ᭡. Reader is down but Crocidle is here to try cheer you up~ Dilf!Crocodile (SFW)

ᥫ᭡. Read here!

Instagram Banner by@cafekitsune

[sturnioloshacker]

christmas morning surprise - a chris sturniolo short

a/n: not requested; lowercase intended

a/n: this is my present to you all for getting me to 1500 followers! thank you all so much, you deserve this fic 🩷 (keep in mind that this fic was written in november hence the xmas theme)

summary: your bf chris surprises you on christmas morning

as snowflakes gently blanketed the city on christmas morning, i awoke to the sweet smell of cinnamon and the sound of soft carols playing. removing the blankets, I sit up and slip on my cozy slippers and make my way to the living area of the triplets’ house. as i walk, i notice a trail of twinkling fairy lights leading towards the living room. how strange, those weren’t there when we hung up the christmas decorations! I finally enter the living room to find my boyfriend of 2 years, chris, stood in the middle with a mischievous grin plastered on his face.

“merry christmas mamas, breakfast is ready.”

“aww chris! thank y- ooh cinnamon scrolls!”

i rush to the dining table and start violently tearing the warm fluffy bundle of joy apart. i sigh in content as the cinnamony goodness makes my tastebuds tingle in delight. after breakfast, the triplets and i sit around the christmas tree to unwrap our gifts from each other. once i open a tigger plush toy from matt to match with his eeyore plush and a giant bucket of my favourite candy from nick, i grab my present from chris. i undo the ribbon from the box and lift the lid off to find a scrapbook inside. 

“a scrapbook?”

“open it, ma. trust me.”

i take the book out and open it to find cherished memories of our relationship from the past 2 years. each page contained many polaroids and notes from every milestone we shared together. as i look through the book, my eyes well up with tears. chris is always so thoughtful when it comes to presents and this was next level. i can’t help but let a few tears run down my cheeks, the happiness in me taking over. 

“oh my gosh, chris! thank you for this, i love it so much.”

“i’m glad you love it, it took me so long and to keep it a secret from you was so difficult.”

i get to the page that says christmas 2023 and notice it’s blank. realising that it needs to be filled today, i squeal in excitement, knowing that i’ll be taking so many photos to stick into the scrapbook. i look up to find chris holding mistletoe in one hand and my polaroid camera in the other. i squeal again and crash into his open arms. he holds the mistletoe over our heads before leaning in to capture my lips in a sweet kiss and taking the photo. 

best christmas morning ever!

[prowlerverse]

smiling critters x reader (christmas edition !)

disc ; for the sake of the hcs , let's just pretend actual sunlight and snow get into that... DOME they live in. also lowercase intended !

DOGDAY

dogday loves holidays. especially christmas. holidays mean ; no looking after kids. It also means he gets to hang out with his friends, to hang out with you.

there's not much you can get from just around playcare, but you can get some things from out of playcare, which leads to dogday begging staff for things from the outside.

eventually, they get tired of his begging and just give it to him to shut him up, and on christmas day he tells you he has a surprise for you — then you walk to his living room to see STACKS of presents.

"all for you!" dogday chirps as he hugs you tightly. "we can hang out after, if you want to.?"

for dogday, hanging out = playing in the 'snow' all day.

CATNAP

catnap again, doesn't exactly celebrate holidays unless you force him to. which you do, every year.

you make catnap one of those itchy christmas sweaters for him to wear, it takes a bit to make him wear it but he eventually gives in.

you usually try to involve catnap in the critter's activities, which he hates. not the fact your trying; but the fact he has to be social.

either way, when playcare winds down catnap spends the night with you watching what tv shows they have and eating cookies (animal safe, of course.)

"today was.. fun."

BOBBY BEARHUG

bobby loves giving, she likes receiving but LOVES giving.

meaning on christmas not only does her love multiply, but her gifts too!

she even asked her friends to set up a mistletoe just so you could both kiss under it.

everything else aside, when the sun goes down there's nothing she loves more when it comes to cuddling with you under cozy blankets drinking hot chocolate and old romantic christmas movies.

"aweee!! aren't they such a cute couple like us?"

PICKY PIGGY

picky loves to cook. she loves to cook for fun, for her friends, and mostly you.

so when christmas comes around, best believe that you'll both be in the kitchen for hours cooking stuff as the snow falls outside.

even if they don't come out THAT well, picky loves spending time with you. even if it means a burnt cookie smell lingers around her house.

"it's okay! we tried in the end, that's all that matters!"

HOPPY HOPSCOTCH

hoppy loves being outside, so having to be cooped inside was a struggle.

but when you said you could both just gear up and go outside, she was over the moon.

you both ended up getting into snowball fights and getting sick, but hoppy found it worth it.

even if it meant having to stay inside for the rest of the week.

"hey, but I mean," she started. "it's more time with you. that's good for me."

KICKIN CHICKEN

just like hoppy, he loves to be outside in any weather.

but, he's taken consideration of what you tell him.

so just to be sure this one time.. he decided to take it slow and just walk around playcare with you, in warm clothing of course.

kickin' was usually hyper, so this surprised you. but you enjoyed it. he was happy to see the snow.

"this is nice — not running around and getting sick. pretty cool if I say so myself."

BUBBA BUBBAPHANT

bubba is mostly a stay inside person, which you don't mind. being outside is not always the answer.

that didn't mean he would just study all day though, he'd try his best to please you by watching shows, cooking (the best he can.)

all the running around and watching shows made you a bit tired, so he would let you lay down on the couch with him.

"today was great," he squeezed you a bit. "thank you."

CRAFTYCORN

crafty enjoys coloring and crafts, it's in her name.

so when it comes to christmas, everything she makes is christmas themed, and a gift for you.

she even made a little christmas city made out of paper, and you loved it.

"I made this.. and thought you would like it."

end ; am I mad that I can't for some reason use the yellow text anymore and have to make kickin and dogday share the same , just slightly different? Yes. Am I gonna update the project: fic soon? maybe. did it crash once and I lost all the progress I made? Yes. Did I wanna cry? Yes. Did I delay this because I was mad over the yellow font suddenly going bye bye?

Yes.

[zepskies]

If You Want It To Be - Part 3

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: When your car breaks down after a hunt, Sam and Dean tow you back to the bunker for Christmas. This time of year gives you and Dean a little courage to be honest about what you both want. And what you want, is for him to see you. (18+)

AN: And here’s Part 3! This fic is an entry for @deanwinchesterswitch's TGWRC: Christmas in July event. 🩵❄️

Themes: Mistletoe (a classic), eggnog, Christmas dinner

Word Count: 3,600 Tags/Warnings: 18+! Smuttish, fluff and feels.

Part 3: Christmas Day

The next day, Christmas morning comes. You’re up early after a night of somewhat restful sleep (anticipation of today kept you up for a while). 

And so are the guys, though their enthusiasm isn’t as bright as yours. 

Everyone is still in their pajamas, the humans with their mugs of coffee as you corral your friends into the living room by the sparkling, multicolored tree.

During your trip to Walmart on your first night in, you managed to squeeze in some shopping for actual presents. Your wallet now hates you, and likely will until February. 

But it’s worth it to see the guys’ faces when they find their names on gift-wrapped boxes under the tree. Jack in particular wears an expression of wonder, almost like a little kid. It makes you smile. 

Everyone has a small gift from you, though they clearly weren’t expecting it. Sam accepts his parcel from you with an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, I don’t think any of us remembered about this part,” he says.

“No worries,” you wave him off. “It’s just a ‘thank you’ for letting me crash here for the holidays.”

You have a new book for Sam, an old-school Gameboy for Jack, a new set of ties for Castiel. You hold your breath when Dean sits down on the couch to open his. 

He considers the small box with slightly furrowed brows. He glances up at you. 

“What’d you do?” he asks. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Just open it, Dean,” you reply with a laugh. A smile twitches at his face, and he finally obliges you. 

Inside the black velvet box is a nice silver watch with a leather strap. 

Dean blinks in surprise. He glances over at his empty wrist where his father’s watch used to rest, but he hasn’t replaced it since it broke after the witch hunt in Indiana.  

You come over to sit beside him and point out the new watch’s features.

“This part is adjustable,” you explain. “I figured you could take it off and use the strap for your dad’s watch.”

A slow smile spreads across Dean’s face, warm and somewhat disbelieving. You bought him a whole new watch, just so he could use the leather strap for his old one. 

Something in his heart tightens, and also eases when he looks up at you. You’re smiling, a little nervous. 

And Dean can’t help himself. He cups a hand behind your head and kisses your cheek, wishing he could do more, but not wanting to invite curiosity. Already he can feel Sam’s gaze on both of you.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Dean says. “This is…it’s real nice. Thank you.” 

But Sam notices the warmth in his brother’s voice, and the way he looks at you. And the way you’re looking at him, like he hung the damn moon. 

It brings a suspicious smile to Sam’s face. 

When you offer to pick up breakfast, Dean intervenes and says you’ve done enough. Sam will get breakfast going, he insists. (And Sam, rolling his eyes, agrees with him.)

“I’m gonna step out for a sec, but I’ll be back,” Dean then says. 

“See ya later,” you reply with a little wave before you go to help Jack set up his Gameboy. Castiel is already sorting through his new ties, arranging them by color, then by pattern on the sofa. 

You glance over your shoulder though, and manage to catch the way Sam pulls his brother aside. You don’t hear what they’re saying, but it sparks your curiosity. 

“What?” Dean asks. Sam raises a brow at him, with a knowing smile. 

“Get her something good,” Sam tells him. 

“Dude, shut up,” Dean holds a finger over his lips and glances over at you. Thankfully, you seem invested in helping Jack. 

“I’m just saying. Put some effort in,” Sam persists. His eyes hold a teasing glint. “Nothing from the gas station.”

“All right, I got it,” Dean snipes back. It’s none of Sam’s business, really, but he already has an idea growing in his mind as he heads down to the garage.

Dean has all but disappeared since this morning. You thought the two of you were going to talk at some point, but you haven’t seen him all day. 

Maybe it’s stupid, but you start to wonder if he’s avoiding you. If the gift was too much…

Sam happens to catch you lost in thought while you’re glazing a large ham in the kitchen.

“Can I help you with anything?” he asks. 

“Sure,” you reply. “Want to peel the potatoes?”

You glance at the bag on the counter. Sam agrees and joins you to wash and start peeling for you. 

“Have you seen Dean?” you ask him, hopefully subtle. 

Sam’s lips start to form a knowing smile, but he dims it down. “He’s probably in the garage.”

“…Oh, right. God forbid I bother him while he’s working on his car,” you joke. Sam glances at you.

“Or yours, most likely,” he says. “He did promise to get it done by today. Didn’t you guys have a little bet going?” 

He knew about that? you think with a blush. 

“That was silly,” you admit. “It’s Christmas. He should just relax.” 

“When my brother says he’s gonna do something, he commits,” Sam says. “He deals with people the same way.”

You raise a brow at him. “What do you mean?”

Sam just smiles, like he knows something you don’t. He finishes peeling the last potato and sets it down on the counter with the rest.

“All right, what’s next?” he asks.

Once the ham is in the oven and the other side dishes you and Sam prepared are set off to cook, you return to your room to shower and get ready for dinner later. 

You decide to wear the dress you found while you were shopping, before you even knew your relationship with Dean would change. 

You almost went with a red lacy one, but there was something about this dress—green velvet, off the shoulder sleeves and flaring at the waist. It’s simple, but pretty. You pair it with some comfortable black flats. 

You spend longer getting ready, only having to redo your eyeliner once this time. Then you steel yourself, gaining some confidence, and you go downstairs. 

Jack is in the kitchen, sneaking a finger in the cranberry sauce.

“I saw that,” you tease. He stiffens like you’ve caught him red-handed. He quickly tucks his hands behind his back. He notices how you’ve cleaned yourself up with a polite nod.

“You look very nice,” he says. 

“Thanks!” you chirp, blushing lightly. “Want to help me set the table?”

Jack obliges you like the nice kid he is. You two set up the long dining table that the guys usually use for research, first with the new red tablecloth, then the plates and silverware and glasses. 

And finally, while Jack checks on the ham in the oven, you place the (fake) gold candleholders on each side of the table. 

Dean comes out of wherever he’s been hiding, right as you’re leaning far over the table to light a candle. You don’t realize how your dress rides up your thighs in the back, but Dean is captivated by the sight for a moment…until he clears his throat. 

“Need some help there, sweetheart?” 

His unexpected voice startles a yelp out of you. You flail as you lose your balance, but he hooks an arm around your waist and prevents you from catching your hand on fire. He brings you flush against him, smirking down at you.

“Nice reflexes,” he teases. “When’s your audition for the Karate Kid?”

“Oh, shut up,” you gripe back. 

You shoot him a playful glare as you rest your palms against his chest. But it loses its effect when you melt into his subsequent kiss. You reach up to twine your arms around his neck, letting your nails graze up the back of his neck and through his hair. 

He shudders a little, with a pleasant hum, making you smile against his lips.

He breaks from you with a customary Dean grin, which is equal parts flirtatious, amused, and a hint cocky.

“Miss me?” he asks. You smile through your blush, but you have to taper down your inclination to say yes. His gaze drags down your body with interest. 

“I like this dress too,” he says, and his voice fairly rumbles. Along with his scrutiny, it makes your face flare with heat. Your fingers play with a button on his shirt, red flannel this time. He rubs the soft velvet along your hip.

You tilt your face up to him, despite your lingering blush. 

“Where’ve you been all day?” you ask. He quirks a smile. 

“I’ll show you,” Dean says. 

Dean takes your hand and leads you downstairs to the garage. 

There you find the remains of your car, which has rusted out parts strewn haphazardly all over the ground. You raise a brow. This is how he fixes your car? 

“You are so not winning the bet.”

Dean snorts. “It’s an old rust bucket. Needs a complete fucking overhaul, or the scrap heap. If you really want, I’ll get the new parts, fix it up top to bottom…or, you could just take a stroll through my garage.”

He gestures around, where classic cars are lined up on either side of you. A wide grin spreads across your face. 

“Oh my God, you’ll let me drive one of these?” you say in excitement. 

“You can pick one out and take it home,” Dean replies. Though he doesn’t want to think about you leaving…maybe you two can talk that over later.

Your smile falters. “What? Dean, no. This is your collection.”

He pulls you in by your waist and gently bucks his hand beneath your chin. 

“Call it my gift to you,” he says. You notice his father’s watch once again rests on his wrist, with the help of the new leather strap you bought for him.  

“You’d really give me a whole freakin’ car?” you ask, tearing up and beaming bright at the same time. 

Dean brushes your cheek tenderly with curled fingers; his answer is in his eyes. You try your best to blink away your would-be tears. He catches the one that falls from the corner of your eye with his thumb.

“Why don’t you go pick one out?” he suggests, nodding behind you. 

Biting your lip, you reach up and kiss him sweetly before you get started. You miss the way Dean blushes a bit. Because you’re already meandering down the line of beautiful old classics. 

Soon enough you stop at an interesting red one.

“Ooh, this one’s nice,” you say. Dean is unimpressed. 

“No,” he shakes his head, crossing his arms. 

“What, why?”

“I ain’t puttin’ you in a Volvo. Come on, you can do better than that.”

“But it’s cute.”

“Remember, you’re gonna be driving across state lines,” he reminds you. “You want something reliable, strong.”

You huff and decide to keep looking, but you lay a gentle hand on the side mirror. 

“I might be back for you. Don’t go anywhere.”

A smile threatens Dean’s lips as he watches you. He knows for sure he’s losing the bet. But it’s worth it for this moment right here.

You flit between the rows of cars. Finally, you stop at a funky mint green one. It reminds you of a car your grandfather had when you were a kid, when he’d take you out for ice cream on a Sunday.

“You like that one?” Dean asks. He walks over and joins you at the car, soothing a hand over its hood.

“I think I do. What is it?” you ask.

“A Ford Thunderbird, 1960.” Dean’s gaze meets yours, and he smiles. “Good choice. 5.8-liter V8 engine. 300 horsepower. This gal was powerful in her time.”

“Let’s see if she still is,” you say with a grin. 

So you and Dean break out the Thunderbird into the open roads of Lebanon, Kansas. 

Dean gives you pointers on driving stick, as it’s been a while for you. But after a few minutes, you regain the hang of it and test the car’s powerful sounding engine. It almost rumbles as loud as Baby. 

“Oh, crap. What about dinner?” you realize. “The guys must be waiting on us.”

“Eh, they’ll live,” Dean says with a grin. “Keep going. There’s a park right around the corner here.”

Sure enough, you’re about to turn into a park that borders on a small, but beautiful lake. You probably should’ve brought a coat; the car’s old heater isn’t doing you much good in your little dress. 

But right now, you don’t care. Because this is a perfect moment, and you don’t think you could be much happier. 

You park the car in view of the sparkling lake. Before Dean can turn to you and ask what you think of the car, you’ve started climbing over the upholstery over to his side. 

“Whoa. Easy tiger,” he chuckles as you grunt and struggle. 

“Here’s my Karate Kid audition,” you joke, earning an even deeper laugh from Dean.

But he helps guide you into his lap, where you straddle his hips and reach down to anchor his seat back. The two of you laugh when it momentarily gets stuck, but Dean is able to fix it. With a turn of his wrist, his seat jerks back and gives you more room to maneuver. 

His warm hands smooth up the back of your thighs while you find purchase on his shoulders. 

“Hmm. You’re cold, babe,” he remarks with a frown, and he rubs your legs more to generate some warmth on your skin. “Should’ve brought your jacket.”

Your legs might be cold, but your face heats up at the way he calls you babe. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like you’re really his.

Your answering smile is both warm and playful.

“Who needs clothes when I’ve got a big, strong, flannel-wearing man to warm me up,” you tease, soothing your hands along his toned arms. 

It lifts his frown into an amused grin, even as he shakes his head and grips your thighs more firmly.

“Oh, so I’m a portable heater now?” he remarks. 

“Yup,” you nod with a grin as you lean down. “Do your job, heater.”

Swiping your hair over your shoulder, you lean down for a sweet kiss. But it quickly gains in passion as his tongue slips past the seam of your lips. His hands move to take a healthy grip of your ass, grinding you down into his lap. 

A pleased sound gets trapped in your throat when you feel his length pressing against your core through his jeans. You slip a hand into his hair, deepening the kiss and nipping at his lower lip.  

You feel like a teenager making out with your boyfriend in some backwoods clearing. But it’s an exhilarating feeling.

You never thought you’d be able to do this. Not with Dean. 

You cup his face in your hands and pull back a bit.   

“I love this car,” you say. “You really gonna give it to me?”

Dean smirks. Once again, your lipstick (though lighter this time) is smudged all over his mouth and chin. You wipe some of it off with your thumb.

“Maybe I won’t,” he says. “Maybe I’ll take my sweet time fixing that rusted out piece of shit sitting in my garage.”

You giggle against him, and his hands smooth up your thighs, rucking up the skirt of your dress.

“Is that your plan?” you reply. “Strand me at the bunker, make sure I can never go home?”

“Something like that,” he says. “Gotta keep my girl close.”

You huff. “Your girl? That’s presumptuous.”

“Oh, really?” Dean gives a deep chuckle. “Weren’t you the one who said this wasn’t a one-time deal?”

“No, you said that. I’m just along for the ride,” you quip.

But you think you’ve teased him too much when his amusement starts to fade. His green eyes dim to embers as he tilts his head.

“Is that right?” he asks. 

You soften, gazing down at him with a more genuine smile. You press your hand to the side of his face, letting your thumb sooth over the apple of his cheek. 

“Dean, of course not,” you say patiently. “It’s you. It’s always been you.”  

That admission is thick in your throat. It comes out at nearly a whisper. 

But then, the shadows begin to clear from Dean’s eyes. His lips curve into a more familiar smile.

He kisses you, and the two of you continue exploring one another. Not to mention, testing the limitations of a reclined car seat.

By the time you two get back to the bunker, the dinner table is a mess. The guys have clearly eaten without you, and now Sam is trying to explain the finer points of football to Cas and Jack in the living room. He pauses when he notices you and his brother walk in.

“Where’ve you guys been?” he asks. But he spies Dean’s hand resting on the small of your back with a smile. “The food is in the kitchen. All you need to do is heat it up.”

“Thanks!” you call to him on your way to the kitchen. 

Dean means to follow you, but he stops short when he sees a framed picture of Mary Winchester hanging on the wall in the living room. He draws closer to it, not realizing that the others are watching him. Most of them with curiosity, and one with hopeful wariness. 

His mouth curves with a slight smile. Someone caught her by surprise. He can tell by the way she’s looking over her shoulder in the 8” by 10” frame. She wears her favorite green jacket—one that Sam bought for her last year. Her hair brushes past her shoulders in a haphazard mix of blonde curls and waves. But her smile. That smile’s even more golden.

“Who put this here?” Dean asks. When he doesn’t get an answer, he glances back and finds his brother’s gaze first. He just smiles, but doesn’t look like the culprit. Dean moves on to Cas, who subtly shakes his head.

Jack, on the other hand, looks both guilty and hopeful, before his eyes fall to the folded hands in his lap. 

Instinctively, Dean wants to tighten up. But when he looks back at his mom’s smile, a little more of the edge in his heart crumbles. 

“She looks good there,” he says. He turns back to Jack and gives him a nod…and a reserved smile. The nephilim hesitates to return it, but when he does, it’s a genuine one. 

Dean moves on to the kitchen, where he pretends not to catch the way you’d been surreptitiously watching the scene from the kitchen. You duck your head and continue cutting some ham for the two plates you’ve set out on the counter.     

Dean’s face lights up when he finds the pies: pecan and apple. 

“Okay, you want mashed potatoes or macaroni with the ham?” you ask him. Dean raises a brow at you. You smile in amusement.

“What am I thinking? Both, obviously,” you say. 

“Obviously,” Dean quips with a nod. 

“Ah, well that’s interesting,” says Castiel. It stops both hunters in the kitchen with curious looks. 

“It seems you’re caught again,” the angel tells you, nodding up to the mistletoe poised above you and Dean. 

You roll your eyes, while Dean just smirks. You glance up at him with a question in your eyes. 

Should we tell them? you ask.

Dean’s smile grows. Hell, yeah.

He leans in to cup your cheek, and he kisses you soundly—something that shocks both angels…but not Sam. You close your eyes with a sound of contentment. You grab onto Dean’s shirt, holding him close.

“She didn’t kiss Sam that way,” Jack comments. 

Castiel recovers first, realizing what’s happened by Sam’s knowing look. 

“No,” Cas says in amusement. “I don’t believe she did.”

While Sam turns up the volume on the TV, giving you and Dean some privacy, Dean finally parts from you and tugs a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. 

“You know, I promised you a car by Christmas,” he says with a grin. “Technically speaking, I did come through on that deal.”

You raise a brow, though a smile tugs at your lips. “Hmm. I suppose you did.”

“And if I remember right, I get a…what was it?” He pretends to recall with a raised finger. “Oh, that’s right. A consequence-free request.” 

“Here we go.” You roll your eyes, but amusement and warmth still gleam them. “All right, Dean Winchester. What can I do for you?”

He hums and seems to consider it. He makes a show of it, really, tilting his head, looking down at you with a deepening smirk. You fight not to blush under his scrutiny, even as your smile grows. Your hands rest against his chest, while his slide around your waist and pull you in closer. 

“How about you don’t go running off so soon,” he says, thumbing at your cheek. “Stay through New Year’s, at least.”

You’d be lying if you said you aren’t shocked. You raise a brow. 

“That’s your request?”

Dean shrugs, but his quirking smile can’t hide the fondness in his eyes. It warms you in a way you also don’t expect.  

Taking your chin with gentle fingers, he presses a lingering kiss to your lips. Your eyes close as you once again take in this heady feeling. Being with him still doesn’t quite feel real, but you’re holding on for as long as you can. 

When he eventually pulls away, he smiles at your slightly hazy face.  

“I already got what I wanted,” Dean says. “Now we just…keep this good thing going.” 

You really do blush this time.

“Got what you wanted, huh?” you tease. He gives you a wry look.

“Not what I meant.” Then he smirks, squeezing your hips. “But actually yeah, that too.”

You laugh and swat at his shoulder. 

“Well, since I’m honor bound. I suppose I can stay a few more days,” you reply. “And I mean, your birthday’s not long after that.”

Dean hums in agreement. “We talkin’ early birthday present?”

You flash him a cheeky smile and slowly slide your hands down his arms. 

“Then Valentine’s Day’s is just around the corner,” you add. Dean nods sagely, trying to temper his smile.

“Might as well stay through February,” he says.

You grin. “Ooh! St. Patrick’s Day!” 

Dean laughs genuinely then, throwing his head back. You hold onto the edges of his button-down shirt and tug him back to you. 

“What I mean to say is, I could consider staying longer,” you say. However long you want me, your tone suggests. “…I’ll just need to tie up a few things.”  

You know your father will be just fine if you decide to move to Lebanon someday soon. He now has his new wife to keep him company, and there isn’t much else tying you to your hometown besides nostalgia, and bittersweet memories of your mom.  

“Is that a serious offer?” Dean asks.

You grin up at him playfully. “If you want it to be.”

He smiles and kisses you again. The way he holds you, looks at you, it’s tender enough to make your throat tighten with emotion. 

“I do,” Dean says. He stares down into your eyes. “It’s you, sweetheart. For me too. Just you.”

 Your smile is tremulous, but oh, so bright.

“Good.” 

AN: And that's it, folks! 🥹 Let me know what you thought of Part 3. I truly hope you enjoyed it!

Coming Up Next:

I have one other Christmas in July fic in store, over in The Boys fandom. Look out for "Love Actually" (Soldier Boy x Reader) next week!

It's set in the "Break Me Down" story-verse, but can be read as standalone. I will tag everyone who follows that ongoing story (which is almost finished!!).

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[reidsaurora]

hellohello i'd like to order a confetti cupcake with luke alvez and a hint of a "oh shit are we really doing this" kind of relationship/date whatever thank youuu

this is the cutest ever, i'm so happy with how it turned out! hope you enjoy 🫶🏻

"The Mistletoe Mishap" ~ L. Alvez

pairing: luke alvez x gn!reader

summary: "you'd be surprised just how seriously the bau took their christmas in july celebrations."

word count: 922

warnings: a couple swear words, mentions of food, a lil splash of sexual humor at the end, i think that's it!

genre: festive fluff ❤️✨️

extra notes: the icon in the collage is by @delicatejareau (edited to fit the theme of the collage a lil better) and the dividers below are by @anlian-aishang!

beta read by: @dungeons-are-too-cold (thank you, love!)

birthday bash | masterlist | ask box

🧁 Confetti Cupcakes - send me a character + concept/trope/au and i'll write you a blurb!

You'd be surprised just how seriously the BAU took their Christmas in July celebrations.

What started as Penelope bringing Christmas cookies to the office one day turned into watching Elf during their lunch hour, Secret Santa exchanges, and weekly contests to see who could show up in the ugliest Christmas sweater (Spencer was winning so far with his sweater made completely out of tinsel).

However, the one unfortunate part of Christmas in July was the mistletoe hanging over every. single. doorframe.

Sure, mistletoe in the workplace was awkward enough as it was, but it certainly didn't help that there was one person you absolutely couldn't get caught under it with.

You and Luke had been dating for a few months by this point and, thus far, you'd successfully kept it under wraps. But every time one of you stopped in a doorway, your heart began to beat so hard, you thought it would bang its way out of your chest.

Usually, you two found a way to keep enough distance that it would be almost impossible to pass under the mistletoe at the same time. But today? The last day of your Christmas in July celebration? Of course it would be the day you didn't.

You and Luke were the last two to show up at the round table room for lunch and a movie, which you'd gathered was Frosty the Snowman when you heard the familiar theme song upon walking in.

Your shoulder brushed something hard as you entered the room, and for some reason, you just knew it wasn't going to end well when you looked up and made eye contact with whoever else was under the mistletoe with you.

You attempted to make a run for your seat, but a familiar voice stopped you in your tracks. "Now, Y/N, you know the rules of mistletoe," Penelope reminded you from her seat. You should've known there wasn't a way out of this, not when Penelope Garcia, self-proclaimed President of the 'Christmas In July Club', was around.

The rules of mistletoe varied a little in the workplace, at least. Some people went for high-fives while others went for hugs. Emily had even gone as far as kissing Tara on the cheek one day, but no one dared to kiss anyone on the mouth yet. So, really, there was no reason to panic, right?

Still, you froze in place, your fight or flight mode clearly not having kicked in yet. Instead, your eyes met Luke's with a look that said, 'please save me,' your hands gripping your lunch bag for some form of stability.

Your chest rose and fell in a rapid rhythm, your heart beating hard against your sternum. "Are we really gonna do this?" you silently mouthed up at him, your whole body on the verge of something close to a panic attack.

"Come on, you guys," Rossi teased, "If Boy Genius can high-five people under the mistletoe, you can too."

Chuckles erupted from your coworkers, but not from you nor Luke. Instead, Luke looked down at you, his tongue jutting out to wet his lips, and somehow, as simple a gesture as it was, the soft eye contact was enough to bring you out of your state of panic. You knew that whatever happened, whether he kissed you or not, and whether or not this kiss led to your secret being exposed, Luke had this, had you.

In one swift motion, he had both his hands planted on either side of your face. "Fuck it," he whispered, barely giving you a second to process the words before his lips were on yours.

His familiar scent fell around you like your own protective bubble as he kissed you, his hold on your face absolutely intoxicating. The taste of his morning coffee burned through you, your stomach doing a loop-de-loop at the sensation.

You knew as soon as he pulled away that all eyes would be on the both of you, but you didn't expect half of their jaws to be on the floor.

"Damn," Emily said, flabbergasted. "Is everyone around here getting laid except for me?"

Penelope was the next to speak, which was quite surprising, considering it looked as though her jaw was out of commission not three seconds prior. "Who knew Newbie could canoodle like that?"

Your face flushed as crimson as the sweater your colleague wore. "Penelope," you scolded her, your hands bringing your lunch bag in front of your face, covering the blush that had taken over.

Luke was having none of that, pulling the lunch bag away from your cheeks. "Y/N sure knows," he smirked before leaving a soft kiss on your forehead.

The blonde all but jumped out of her chair. "Is this a thing? How come no one told me about the thing? Why am I always the last to know about a thing?"

Luke tossed an arm around your shoulders, providing you with a sense of calm and comfort as you thought about your next words. "Technically," you started, "you're all the first to find out about the thing."

"Except Roxy," Luke corrected. "She pretty much knew it was a thing before it actually was a thing."

Next thing you knew, the girls were pulling you over to one side of the room, practically begging for details. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Spencer sharing a fist bump with Luke, a smile overtaking your face.

Oh, how they got on your nerves, but oh how, you loved the BAU.

-> taglist: @1234-angelika @drayshadow @alexxavicry @nomajdetective @cordyandbilliehavemyheart @darkloverfox @sammyrenae68 @cherrycandle @asgardprincess97 @gh0stgurl @randomwriter1021 @eddieharrington @danielle143 @esposadomd @reidselle @dungeons-are-too-cold @louderfortheback @reidsbookclub @cwritesforfun @cynbx @juismissing @captainchris-pike @lukeclvez

[georgeweasleyslostearhq]

MISTLETOE

little separate short imagines of Xavier and Ajax under mistletoe

XAVIER

your friends had only one plan for christmas

getting two of their friends together because they flirting is annoying

and it was true, you two weren't together, but you weren't just friends either.

and your guys' friends thought you just needed a little push to finally decide what you both wanted.

you're friends had thought about every possible way to get you two to stand below it together.

But Enid the best plan of all.

every Sunday you would go over to Xavier's dorm to hang out. and today was like every other.

only today there was mistletoe hanging from the frame of his door that Ajax had planted due to Enid not being tall enough.

you walked to his room with a little box, his present. this was on of the last times you would see Xavier before leaving for Christmas, so you wanted to see his reaction to your gift.

you knocked on the door, unaware of a couple of sneaky people watching you from around the corner

the door opened and you smiled widely at the tall boy you were hoping to see

"Hey" he greeted you

"hi!" you beamed

"what's that?" he inquired, looking down at your hands to the box

"your present of course!" you rolled your eyes playfully, noticing his smirk.

but that wasn't the only thing you noticed

as you looked up at Xavier, you noticed just barely in your vision was something hanging from above. looking further up you noticed the green and red decoration above you.

"oh" you blinked

Xavier lifted his head up to get a look, seeing it too

"I didn't put that there I swear" he denied

"are you sure? who else would put it up there?" you questioned

"well I don't know" you looked down at his feet

"sooo, what are we gonna do about it?" a little smirk formed on your face

"well it is a tradition" he stated with a slight shrug, licking his lips

"and we can't break a tradition, can we?" you asked cheekily

"no, we couldn't, we shouldn't" he shook his head as his dimples came to view on his cheeks

he reached a hand to your cheek and caressed it with his thumb, pulling you in by the waist with his other hand, leaning down to kiss you

you removed a hand from the box and held it in one hand as you placed the other on his chest, kissing him back

you're friends high fived each other before scurrying off. happy with their scheme.

AJAX

Ajax had wanted to ask you out for ages, ever since you said his snakes were cute he was swoon.

so he thought of the best way to confess, he made up a list of things he could do but chose one that was festive for the holiday only a few days to come.

he knew you loved Christmas, so why not confess to you in a Christmas themed way?

so once he got the mistletoe a store in town, he held it in his pocket, not knowing when he would see you next

so he knew he was prepared when you came running up to him

"Ajax!" you smiled, he grinned and took a deep breath

"hey! what's up" he asked

"nothing, I was just coming over to see how you were, maybe ask about your Christmas plans or snakes!" you giggled

"how kind of you, I'm good, you?" he spoke nervously

"I'm good thank you! what are you doing Christmas?" you questioned sweetly

"hanging with family, you 'know. the usual" he shrugged

you hummed along with a big smile

"what about you?" he inquired

"I'm going to Enid's for Christmas, my family went to France" you stated

"oh, cool" he nodded his head

you noticed one of his snakes slithering out of his beanie.

"aww, hey buddy!" you looked at it in awe

"anyway, I should probably get going, bye, Jax!" you waved, but before you walked off he stopped you

"hey, wait a second" he pulled you back to him

"yeah?" you looked at him softly

"well, uh" he spoke sheepishly

he took the mistletoe from his pocket and lifted it above your head, making you look up

"is that mistletoe?" you asked cluelessly

"yes?" he shrugged

"that's adorable!" you beamed at him

he leaned in and kissed you softly, lowering the mistletoe to hold you in his arms

you laughed against his lips as one of his snaked licked your forehead

you pulled away from him and stared at his features

"you're so cute!" your nose scrunched up

"I really like you" he confessed

you went on your tippy toes to kiss his cheek

"I like you too, Jax" you admitted

"oh thank god" he took a deep breath

------------------------------------------------

since christmas is so soon!

[spockfascinated]

I’m starting a different thread of fic recs with the theme “shamelessly romantic.”  We’re here for the romance folks, and both TOS and AOS are up for grabs, any rating.  Whether it makes you ache or feel butterflies, you’ll lose yourself in the softness. 

I was inspired to create this thread when Annie’s Song showed up in one of my playlists in the car today, and I immediately started to tear up. Now, what does an old John Denver song have to do with Spirk or romance?  Well, ever since I read Mistletoe Challenge by awarrington, I’ll always associate that song with this fic.  At 15k, rated E, this TOS fic starts out as Academy era and then FFWD to canon era, the two time periods bookended by a Starfleet holiday tradition that involves the aforementioned song and a whole lot of sweet pining. 

Also, I highly recommend listening to the song to really get the vibe.

[junosmindpalace]

hi! i've been rewatching a few tdliosk eps every once in a while and i kinda missed kusuo 😩 and since it's christmas season i was wondering if u could write a saiki x fem reader one-shot in reference to season 1 ep 16 where saiki dresses up as santa and distributes presents to the kids in their neighborhood? so uhm when he was about to go home, he sees reader walking in the street (she lives nearby) also dressed up as santa for some reason lol. saiki and her are friends to say the least but there's an unspoken mutual pining stuff going on between them. saiki walks her home then she suddenly sees a mistletoe on one of the houses... reader froze and blushes hard and saiki got confused so he read her mind and he was like oh... he's hesitating on whether he'll kiss her or not but much to his surprise reader makes the first move 😆 tysm and pls take ur time! ❤

hi there! Thank you so much for your request! I couldn’t resist writing one of my more recent requests especially with the holiday theme…i hope you enjoy!

ps., dialogue in italics are kusuos inner thoughts/talking via telepathy!

warnings: angst? maybe? if you squint?

wc: 1.4k

The last person Saiki wanted to see today was you. 

It was already a pain going door to door dealing with all the brats in his neighborhood, but suddenly it was a hundred times more embarrassing when you were nervously eyeing his Santa get-up in confusion. 

But something that sort of lessened his dread upon running into you was that you too were also wearing a costume like his.

Saiki had spent his entire evening playing this Santa delivering presents to the children in his neighborhood, courtesy of his parents. He flew around the sky with a sack full of presents, just like the real deal. He’s dealt with all sorts of headaches tonight- a scared child, a non-believer, and a family conflict, to name a few. By the time his sack was empty, Kusuo was exhausted and ready to head home, opting to simply walk with his empty bag instead of teleporting as he didn’t live far. He regrets this decision immediately, however, when he runs into you. Which leads him to the dilemma he’s put himself in right now. 

“Oh no…of course I'd run into Y/N at this very moment. Why didn’t I just teleport home as soon as I finished?”

Just like with the rest of his friends, Saiki found you a nuisance, someone who interfered with his ability to lead a “normal” and peaceful life, but for a different reason than the rest of his peers. The two of you had been friends for a long time, longer than any of his current ones, but your relationship has felt different recently, and it’s been stressing Saiki out. 

As of late, Saiki has taken notice of some new uncomfortable feelings that only arise around you. Tightness in his chest, a weird sensation in his stomach. He doesn’t get sick, so obviously these symptoms alarm Kusuo. What was even more alarming was the fact that they were recurring, and most alarming of all, they were only recurrent around you. 

He’d been trying to avoid the most dreadful conclusion for these feelings ever since he noted that they only arose around you. He’s heard the signs a million times thanks to his love-crazed classmates. Clammy hands, he’s got it. A burning feeling in his chest? A blazing feeling, even. It brought him a sense of horror unlike any other, but after being unable to rid himself of his troublesome feelings, he’d come to the conclusion that yes, he, of all people, has a crush. Even worse, it was a crush on one of the only tolerable people in his life.

Maybe this conclusion wasn’t all that shocking, but it certainly didn’t make Kusuo feel any good. He’d been friends with you for years, spending all that time getting to know you and growing comfortable with you, and now suddenly he feels something more than friendship? Him of all people, the psychic who thought that it was his very nature not to be romantically involved with anyone? It turned his view of himself upside down. 

Saiki reached this conclusion not too long ago, and he’s still trying to figure out what to do with it. What was even worse about the ordeal was that your thoughts, as of late, have also been worrisome, seemingly more eager than usual to be around Saiki and questioning yourself whenever you caught yourself thinking of him in a not-so-just-friends kind of way. He's been trying his best to avoid you until he can figure out how to dispose of these feelings without them growing and without you catching on, as it seemed that they only intensified each time he saw you, and that wasn’t something he wanted.

Yet here you were, and for some reason, you were also in a Santa getup like Kusuo.

And after recovering from your initial moment of shock, you spoke out into the quiet, frigid atomosphere.  “Kusuo? Is that you?”

-

As you lived near Kusuo, the two of you accompanied each other on your walks home. You both removed your beards and hats to see and talk to each other properly, and you anxiously explained to Saiki the reasoning behind your getup after he explained his own, flustered that he caught you at such an embarrassing time. 

“Well, my work required me to wear something festive, and I got stuck with Santa out of all our costumes. I would have preferred an elf or even a snowman over Santa. I’ve been sweating all day.” You laughed nervously as you held your gaze to the ground and your beard up in defeat. But then you let your arm drop to its side and you turned toward him with a small smile. 

“I think it’s nice what you did, even if your parents coaxed you into it. Not many people would step up like you did tonight.”

Saiki stared at you exasperatedly. Usually Saiki doesn’t care for any sort of praise he receives, and he really (and I mean truly), doesn’t mean to brag, but he usually receives a lot. He doesn’t think much of it, but something about it coming from you makes him reflect, which pained him. He hates the effect you have on him, which is why he’s been trying to stay away. But somehow, he always keeps finding his way back to you, and you to him. He has to deal with a lot of irritating people on a daily basis, but you were his ultimate headache. Just how was he about to go about this new development in your relationship? It made him uneasy to think that things would have to change between you two, that things were already changing. Was it because he let you so close to him that he developed these feelings for you? That he’s gotten so vulnerable, so much more anxious and scared? Was he right about relationships in general being nothing but an inconvenience? 

Your house came before his, and out of respect, Kusuo walked you to your doorstep, deep in almost dark thought about his feelings. You didn’t mind Kusuo being quiet, and for the most part, your dynamic has usually consisted of you being the more talkative one. Besides, you were both exhausted from your eventful evenings. What you didn’t expect was for Saiki to follow behind you as you climbed up the steps to your porch. When you turned around behind you, your eyes widened in alarm.

“Oh no, Saiki, it’s okay, you don’t need to-!”

By the time he stopped in his tracks, your warning was futile. Saiki stared in confusion over your panicked face, your eyes carrying a sort of frenzied look in them. “What? What’s with the sudden dismissal? I only-”

And suddenly his own eyes widened in panic as he realized his error, his miscalculation. He’s beating himself up for not being more cautious, especially during this time of year. How could he be so careless?

Kusuo slowly turned his head up, almost in fear, to get a better view of the mistletoe that hung above the two of you. 

“My family thought…it would be sweet…”

Saiki stared in horror with his mouth open at the plant before quickly turning his attention back to you. What was he supposed to do? He wasn’t entitled to kissing you, he could obviously refuse. But his stomach churned. Did he really want to be turned down? The thought, even if it cropped up for a second, made him want to slap himself and hurl. 

The two of you stared at each other nervously in silence for a couple of moments before you suddenly took a deep breath. Saiki’s eyes widened even further. “Are they seriously going to kiss me? I didn’t think they’d have the courage to make a move like that. Their thoughts never indicated-”

Warm lips met his cheek for the swiftest moment before only a tingling sensation lingered. It had happened so quick it left him feeling dazed from being pulled out so suddenly from his thoughts. His surprised gaze still firmly held your nervous one, and silence fell between the two of you for a brief moment. 

“Thank you for walking me home. Merry Christmas, Saiki.” You quickly sputtered out these final words before turning on your heel and quickly heading inside, thankful that the door was left unlocked by one of your family members like you had asked earlier that evening. 

Saiki couldn’t help but linger at the porch for a few seconds, staring at the closed door before slowly turning around and continuing the path toward his house.

There was good reason for him to want to avoid you, especially tonight. When he got home and headed into the kitchen to greet his mother, she commented absentmindedly on the deep rose that settled into his face from the cold, and talked to no one in particular about how wonderful and joyous the Christmas season was.

wishing you all a happy and healthy 2023!! thank you for all the support i’ve received this past year <3

[laheymaze]

why are there so many mistletoe?

✨eddie munson✨ x fem! reader

summary: your best  friend, eddie, has been in love with you for years, but has never wanted to  admit his feelings. but when his child sidekick, dustin, gets in his head, eddie gets drunk at your christmas party and almost messes everything up 🎄

warnings: language, SMUT, alcohol use, i think that's it??

*this was originally going to be super innocent and cute, then i got a little too excited with the way the story was going hehehehhehehe enjoy*

ultimate masterlist!!

holiday masterlist!! 🎄

--------

“You need to tell her how you feel already!” Dustin shouted at Eddie while sitting next to him at the lunch table.

Eddie was gushing about how perfect you looked over the past weekend at Corroded Coffin’s show, and Dustin was tired of hearing about it. Eddie has had the biggest crush on you since he met you freshman year, but never “had the balls” to tell you, as Dustin so lovingly put it. 

“For the millionth time, I am not ruining my friendship with her over this,” Eddie stated.

“Okay, for the millionth time, shut the hell up about her then!” Dustin countered. 

“Shut the hell up about who?” You questioned, walking to the table, sitting on the other side of Eddie. 

“No one!” Eddie shouted, giving Dustin a dirty look.

“Okay?” You questioned hesitantly. “I’m having a Christmas party thing at my house this weekend, you all are invited. Saturday, seven o’clock. It’s not an excuse to get drunk and throw a rager, okay?” You said, looking at Eddie. 

“It happened one time,” Eddie said.

“Yeah, and you got so wildly drunk you that threw up all over my bedroom and slept for almost 20 hours the next day. I am not letting that happen again.” Eddie ignored you, choosing to throw a carrot at you instead. 

“This is the perfect opportunity,” Dustin whispered not so quietly.

“Perfect opportunity for what?” You asked.

“Can you ever just shut the fuck up?” Eddie said to Dustin, hitting his shoulder, making the boy yelp. 

“Why are you two being so weird today?” You questioned, raising your brows. 

“You’re being weird,” Dustin said, trying to cover. 

“Okay?” 

“So, Christmas party, Saturday, seven o’clock? Sounds fun.” Eddie said, distracting away from Dustin’s obvious behavior. 

“It should be! It’s snowy-Christmas themed, so I’m wearing my cute snowflake sweater.” You said.

“The one that has blue and silver flakes?” Eddie questioned. 

“Yeah, I can’t believe you remember that.” You told him. Eddie’s eyes went wide, Dustin laughing. 

“I remember it because it’s so ugly,” Eddie said, smirking. You smiled at him, your turn to throw food at his face. 

“I better see you wearing a better sweater then, Munson.”

“You know it, sweetheart.”

—-

When Eddie showed up at the Christmas party, he was not wearing a Christmas sweater. Instead,  it was a “holiday” Metallica shirt and jeans. Eddie made his way through the people in your living room, finally finding you in the kitchen with Steve, Robin, Dustin, Mike, Max, and Lucas. 

“That is not a Christmas sweater!” You told Eddie.

“And that is still an ugly sweater.” Eddie countered, pointing at your sweater that he actually adored and loved seeing you in. 

“I think it’s a cute sweater,” Steve said, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side. What the fuck was that?! 

The jealousy filled in Eddie, not knowing if you and Steve were actually a thing or he was just being friendly. But that’s how Eddie was with you, not Steve. So there must be something there. 

“Hand me a beer,” Eddie said harshly, making you raise your brows. Steve tossed him one, and Eddie left the kitchen, on the search for anywhere else to be to conduct his master plan to finally make you his. 

—-

When you finally left the kitchen to socialize with other friends, you noticed the unusual amount of mistletoe hanging everywhere. You questioned whether you hung those up, remembering very clearly that you did not. You caught Eddie out of the corner of your eye by the staircase, making his way up. You followed him, watching as he put a mistletoe under your bedroom door. 

“Why are there so many mistletoe?” You asked, startling Eddie. 

“Fuck, Y/N, you scared me.”

“I thought Eddie Munson doesn’t get scared.” You said, smiling. 

“Only of a few things,” Eddie responded.

“Like what?”

“Mistletoe. You should come over here and protect me from it.” Eddie slightly slurred. 

“Stop trying to get me to walk under the mistletoe.” You joked. “I thought we talked about you not getting drunk tonight.” You said, leading Eddie into your room where you noticed a full water bottle sitting on your nightstand, handing it to Eddie. 

“I don’t recall,” Eddie said, plopping down on your bed. 

“Of course you don’t.” You sat next to him, watching as he chugged the water. “What else are you scared of?” You asked, seeing what drunk Eddie had to say.

“Santa.”

“Santa? Since when?” 

“Since I never got to experience Santa as a kid and one time Wayne took me to the mall and Santa was there and he was disgusting, so clearly I wasn’t missing anything,” Eddie explained. At first, you felt bad for him, then you began laughing at his comment.

“What a shame, I figured we could go sit on Santa’s lap and tell him what we want for Christmas.” You joked. Eddie propped himself up, smirking at you.

“Why sit on Santa’s lap when you can sit on mine?” Eddie said, still smirking, making your eyes go wide.

“Eddie Munson, what is going on with you?” You questioned, laughing. 

“That little shit Dustin, that’s what. He got in my head.” Eddie started explaining, taking off his shoes and curling up in your bed. “He said tonight was my time to say it, but he was wrong. Why do I always listen to that child?” You laughed at Eddie, not really understanding what he was talking about. 

“Is this about that she you were talking about at lunch the other day? Does Eddie Munson have a crush?” You asked, tucking him into your bedding. 

“Not a crush, I’m in love.”

“In love?!” You had never heard anything about this before. Who was he talking about? And why did it make you sting with jealousy?

“Yeah, but I think she’s with Harrington,” Eddie added, completely turned around and under the covers. Well, he wasn’t talking about you then…

“She’s an idiot if she would choose Steve over you.” 

“She’s actually smart,” Eddie said. “And super hot.” 

“Is that so?” 

When you didn’t get an answer from Eddie, you realized he was fast asleep. You got up off your bed, giving Eddie a kiss on his forehead, and turning off your lights before leaving and closing the door. You walked back downstairs to enjoy the party, but not without Eddie’s words repeating in your head the entire night.

—-

Eddie woke up the next morning, drooling all over your pillow, having a huge headache, and craving coffee and pancakes. He slowly got up, rubbing his eyes to adjust to the light in your room. He heard a light snore, looking down to see you sleeping on the floor. Next to where Eddie was sleeping was a trashcan, Tylenol bottle on the nightstand, and two bottles of water. Eddie smiled, realizing it was all for him and you slept next to him to make sure he was fine the whole night.

“Y/N?” Eddie whispered. “Y/N?” Eddie said a little louder. You stirred awake, eyes peaking up at Eddie’s wild morning hair. 

“Pancake mix and coffee are already downstairs, ready to be made.” You told him, already knowing what he liked after a long night. 

“Gosh, you’re the best,” Eddie whispered. “Will you please get in your own bed? I’ll sleep on the floor.” 

“I usually wouldn’t take up your offer, but this floor is super uncomfortable.” You said, getting up and scooching in next to Eddie. "Stay." You told him as he tried getting up to go to the floor. You were facing him, Eddie smiling at you. “Is that drool?!” You exclaimed, noticing the wet stain on your pillowcase. 

“No?” 

“Liar.” You said, closing your eyes. “Do you remember anything you told me last night?” You questioned. 

Shit. What did he say to you last night?

“No… what did I say?” Eddie was worried. He was praying he didn’t tell you how he felt.

“That you’re in love with a girl who is apparently with Steve.” 

“Oh.”

“According to Steve, though, he isn’t seeing anyone right now. So, not sure where you got that info from.” You told Eddie, opening your eyes to meet his worried ones, still laying side by side. 

“He isn’t?” Eddie asked extremely quickly. 

“Nope. So who is she?” 

Eddie didn’t know what to say. Does he tell you and risk ruining your friendship? Does he keep it a secret and let you fall into another guy's arms? He was weighing every option he had, finally deciding to take the jump and would later blame it on the hangover if things go sideways. 

“Fuck it. A new year is about to start, and I can’t go another year hiding this from you.” Eddie started, sitting up and looking down at you. “I was talking about you, Y/N. It’s always been you.” 

“What?” You sat up, directly in front of Eddie. 

“I’ve liked you since freshman year, and everyone kept telling me to go for it, but I didn’t want to ruin anything and lose my best friend. Then at lunch, Dustin told me I should tell you at your party, which freaked me out and I thought, hey, why not get drunk and hang up mistletoe instead? I’m an idiot, I know.” Eddie rambled, making you smile. 

“You are an idiot, yes. But only for thinking I didn’t feel the same and that anything could change me being your best friend.” You told him, placing your hand on his leg. “And for getting drunk when I specifically told you not to.” You added, making both you and Eddie laugh. 

“So Dustin was right for once? You have feelings for me too?”

“Yes, he was, but don’t tell him that.”

“You’re crazy if you think I’d ever let that child know he was right,” Eddie said, laughing. 

“Do you want some pancakes and coffee now? I don’t think I’ll be falling back asleep.” You asked Eddie. 

“Oh my gosh, yes!” Eddie happily exclaimed, rushing out of bed, then getting light-headed. 

“Easy there, speed racer.” 

“Never when your pancakes are involved.”

You and Eddie walked out of your room, Eddie stopping behind you under your door frame. 

“What are you doing?” You questioned. Eddie pointed up, looking at the mistletoe. “I thought I took all of them down.”

“Guess you missed one,” Eddie said, grabbing your waist and pulling you to him. 

Eddie leaned in, gently putting his lips on yours. Your hands cupped his cheeks, his arms wrapping tightly around your body as your lips moved in sync. 

“Can I go brush my teeth?” You asked, pulling away.

“No time for that,” Eddie said, putting his lips back on yours, making you smile through the kiss. 

“Pancakes?” You added, breaking away once more. 

“Pancakes!” Eddie shouted, running down the stairs, leaving you behind. 

“Dumbass.” You said to yourself, turning around to go brush your teeth. 

Once you did so, you made your way downstairs, finding Eddie with a cup of coffee and pouring pancake mix into a bowl.

“You tricked me.” He pouted. 

“You’re the one that likes pancakes more than kissing me.” You teased. 

“Oh really?” Eddie questioned, putting his coffee down and grabbing you, lifting you in the air, making you giggle. 

Eddie twirled you around and then finally put you back on the ground, his arms still securely wrapped around you. His lips found yours once more, and your hands tugged at his hair. Eddie started off with slow, soft, kisses, then rapidly increased speed. His tongue eventually joined the mix, gliding into your mouth with ease. This caused you to moan slightly, adding to Eddie’s growing hard-on. 

Noticing, you pressed against him more, Eddie pushing you against the kitchen counter, him completely pressed against you. He moved from your lips, kissing along your jaw and neck as his hands made their way up your shirt, giving you chills from his rough hands touching your bare skin. 

“Fuck,” Eddie moaned into your neck, still in his morning voice. “I don’t know how fast we’re taking this and I know you’re going to think that I’m crazy… but I have been dreaming of the way you taste and I need to find out,” Eddie said quietly into your ear, you throwing your head back. 

Responding, you took off your shorts, tossing them aside. Eddie didn’t hesitate. He kneeled down, grabbing your leg, and placing it on top of his shoulder, giving him perfect access to you. He kissed up your thighs, teasing you by kissing the outside of your underwear. He hooked his finger around the pair, pulling it aside. 

Eddie didn’t waste a second, he dove right in, his tongue deep into your entrance. He moved his tongue with ease and aggression, making it his goal to soak up every centimeter of your wetness. Your moans grew louder as his thumb moved around your clit, your body building up every second he continued. 

“Fuck, Eds!” You shouted, your hands tugging on his messy hair. Eddie smirked against you, him then increasing speed, determined to taste everything you had to offer. 

—-

“Fuck, I still can’t get over how good at that you are.” You told Eddie, both of you sitting down eating pancakes, finally. 

After Eddie finally got to taste… everything… you made out on the kitchen counter for a while, then after Eddie’s grumbling stomach interrupted, you felt it was finally time to eat. 

“Making pancakes? I know.” Eddie joked, winking.

“Funny.” 

“Can I take you to dinner tomorrow night? I promise I’ll actually wear my Christmas sweater.” Eddie said, smiling.

“I’d love that.” 

“I love you,” Eddie whispered.

“What?” You questioned, not sure you heard him correctly. 

“What?” 

[perpetuallydaydreaming]

it’s christmas!

i’ll be posting christmas themed one shots for the holidays!! sort of a last minute thing actually. literally just thought of it today! anyway the scheduling for the posts is as follows;

december 22, 2022 — sirius black

— i want to decorate the christmas tree!

you try to decorate the christmas tree and sirius is no help. // fluff & smut (ish), established relationship

december 23, 2022 — remus lupin

— you’re my secret santa?

you give remus a gift he thought he’ll never have. // fluff, established relationship

december 24, 2022 — james potter

— you have to kiss under the mistletoe, it’s the rules.

who knew a small bundle of leaves could change everything? // fluff, mutual pining

december 25, 2022 — poly!marauders

— you’re warm.

you like the cold weather. but against your warm boyfriends, you believe you can be convinced otherwise. // fluff, established relationship

[rendy-a]

Holiday Traditions with your Pomefiore Househusband

It’s a Househusband AU fic!  There is just something soft about thinking of your fav as a devoted spouse, waiting for you when you get home.  Please enjoy these small musings about Househusbands.

Vil enjoys choosing a new theme each year and going all out to decorate the house for the holidays.    Like a grand celebrity party, Vil plans the details over weeks to source proper decorations, food and clothing.  Sometimes its even large furniture items that get changed up.  No detail is too large or small for Vil!

Several days leading up to the big reveal, you may be instructed firmly not to go into certain rooms of the house.   He may be retired from the stage, but he is still a showman at heart.  There is no audience he wants to get a reaction out of more than you!  So, won’t you allow him the satisfaction of a big reveal?  That means no sneak peeks!

When every piece of the plan is in place, he’ll wait for you to go to work before starting.  By the time you get home, the whole house is transformed into a themed holiday paradise.  Do let him meet you at the door and show you around.  He has worked so hard to make it perfect, please don’t be shy, let him know what a good job he has done.

As cold as it is, you see your husband Vil waiting outside for you to get home.  You know that today is the big day, and he is excited to see your reaction to every part of the house; that starts with the front door.  You collect your welcome-home kiss and gesture for him to start your traditional holiday tour.  This year’s theme is red and gold, Vil explains as he starts you off at the holiday wreath bedecked in red baubles and gold ribbon. 

Vil holds your hand as he escorts you around the house, pointing out tiny details that may escape your attention.  The pattern on that cloth is a traditional motif from the Shaftlands.  The spices used to scent the potpourri are from the Scalding Sands.  You also look each year for where he has incorporated the Pomefiore dorm symbol.  Vil is awful sentimental about your time together at Night Raven College and likes to remember the old dorm; its where he met you, after all!  This year, you find an ornament carved from applewood on the tree.  You wonder if it was a gift from Epel.

Your tour ends in the master bedroom where you take in a new set of linens adorning the bed.  The thick comforter is in shades of red and gold and reminds you of something you’ve seen before.  “Vil, are these stage curtains?”  He looks at you and asks if you remember that show he was in several years ago.  “The stage designer owed me a favor, so I thought I’d have this surprise prepared for you.”  You give him a seductive smile.  “Well Mr. Schoenheit, I wonder what sort of show you have planned for such a fine stage.”  A knowing smile is all the answer you get.

Rook can’t be content with giving his precious spouse just one gift for the holiday.  You’ll find secret gifts left all over the house for you.  There may be a box of chocolates tucked in your shoe before heading to work.  A book of poems under your pillow.  One year, you do your spring cleaning and find a jewelry box tucked in the couch cushions.  He could have told you, but he says the surprise is part of the gift.

The forest is a second home to your hunter husband, so it’s no surprise that he brings the forest home for the holidays.  There are boughs of pine all around your living space.  The scent of fresh cut pine scents your space and gives it that holiday sparkle.

Of course, the real highlight of the season for Rook is mistletoe.  For the self-proclaimed Le chasseur d'amour, nothing beats luring your spouse under the mistletoe for a sweet kiss.  That’s why Rook keeps no fewer than 3 sprigs of mistletoe in the house at all times.  He moves it around frequently; you never know when he’ll pop up at your side to announce you’ve fallen into his amorous trap.

You were running behind this morning, which always gets you frazzled.  You rush out of your bedroom to the kitchen to grab the lunch Rook has prepared for you to eat at work.  “Mon ange, have you forgotten something?”  You jump at his voice, right at your side.  “I’m sorry dearest, I’m so late today,” you say as you lean over to give him a quick peek on the cheek.  “I’ll make sure I give you a proper kiss next time.”  He smiles at you indulgently.  “I will look forward to that mon amour, but I am speaking of your scarf.”  Oh!  You dash off into your office to grab the missing garment. 

You tie the scarf securely about your next and give yourself one last run-down.  Keys, check! Lunch, check! Coat, check!  All set to go.  You open the door and head outside at last.  “Mon ange!” you hear your husband call out.  You turn to see what he has brought you this time, as you are sure you’ve forgotten something else.  Instead, you see Rook pointing up to where he has secured a bundle of mistletoe above you.  You start to form an apology about how you really don’t have time for that kiss now but before you can speak the words, Rook takes action. 

A hand finds its way to the small of your back and another on your shoulder.  With a sweeping twist, he swings you into a deep dip and places a toe-curling kiss on your lips.  You’re left breathless and gasping by the time your lips part.  “Ah,” you pant, “well, I guess I might have had time for one last kiss after all.” Rook smiles indulgently at you before pulling you back up and sending you on your way to work.  Then he sweeps off his hat and gives a small bow to your neighbor, who seems more taken aback by the sudden production than you.  ‘Oh well, what’s a little more neighborhood gossip?’ you think as you head off to work.  Your fingers lightly brushing your lips and the ghost of your last magnificent kiss.  That will get you through your day.

The holidays get Epel to thinking about family and thinking about family always gets him to thinking about apples.  Don't be surprised to see a sudden jump in the number of carved apples around the house.  Reindeer, snowflakes, stars…whatever catches his fancy.  He might even get crafty some afternoon and dry decorative apple slices to incorporate into your wreaths and garlands. 

Epel is also a fan of popcorn garlands.  Being from such a small town, he isn’t used to going out to a store to buy decorations, he prefers to make them instead.  Sometimes they are straight white kernels and other times he’ll treat them with sugar syrups to give them festive colors.  He’ll string them up while you are at work but, if you want, he’d also be delighted to have his spouse sit down and help them with them.  He says there is just something special about doing a project with your darlin’.

Epel’s favorite holiday tradition though is holiday movies!  Every week, he’ll wait for the end of your workday to pull you over to the couch for a marathon.  He sets you both up on a blanket his me-maw crocheted for you as a wedding gift.  When you are wrapped up tight, it’s movie time!  You always pick classics, like Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer.  Epel picks the same movie every year, Die Hard.  He swears it’s a holiday movie!  Its set in December, after all!  You indulge him in his action movie.

You walk in the door, tired from a long day’s work, and you are tackled in an embrace by your husband, Epel.  “Welcome home!” he shouts, giving you a smacking kiss.  “I hope you are ready for this because I’ve got everything all planned out!”  He takes your jacket and lets you remove your shoes and such yourself.  Then he drags you into the living room, eager to get the night started. 

On the table in front of the TV is a HUGE bowl of popcorn with a smaller bowl of dried apple slices beside it.  There is also a pizza and some plates.  Epel sees the pizza and gives a start, like he wasn’t the one who had ordered the pizza in the first place.  “Eh, well…you don’t mind, I hope, but I was too busy making all the popcorn to cook.” You assure him that pizza is just fine as you give him a kiss on the cheek.  With that, you settle in for your movie night and popcorn-garland making session. 

Epel is excited about the movie and enjoys keeping his hands busy with the craft but honestly, you’ve had a long day and are getting sleepy.  Stringing popcorn while sleepy isn’t the best combination.  As you start nodding off, you prick yourself on the finger.  “Ouch,” you mumble quietly.  Epel decides to cut you off and gently takes your half-finished string from you.  You put up a token effort to insist you can tough it out but are secretly happy when Epel declares you are done.  You smile and pull the blanket closer around you both as Epel goes about his crafts and you lean your head on his shoulder. 

When the exciting climax of the movie starts, Epel turns to remind you that this is the good part! and sees that you are out like a light.  He chuckles to himself and sets his garland aside.  Then he puts a pillow in his lap and lays you down instead.  Taking care of his spouse is far more important than finishing some silly garland.  Plus, when the movie is done, he’ll get to remind you how strong he is by carrying you to bed.  Now he has something even better to look forward to than the end of his favorite movie.

[gojo-mochi]

Softy please - I am drowning in Marco content and I need more. 🌟 please have this star and lemme smooch Marco under the toads of missiles ❤️

He/they, but just have fun with it ^_^ (and I hope you had or are having a delightful holiday )

Happy Holidays!!!!! (marco is still kidna hard for me to write wahh! hope you enjoy another serving of Marco today Quin~ <3)

You and Marco made it a game to see who could catch who first under the mistletoe. Sneaking around corners, avoiding any doorways in the Moby Dick that already have mistletoes on them. You kept a handful of mistletoes in your back pocket, ready to attack at a moment's notice. The other crewmates made some bets on who would win; it was split down the middle, as you and Marco were both fierce in your own rights. You eyed some crewmates warily, though, unsure if Marco had roped them into helping him win this little game.

Speaking of Marco, you haven’t seen hair nor feather of him all day. Making you even more on edge that he could be hiding somewhere, ready for a surprise attack. You decided to make your way to the deck, out in the open sea air. The ship was decorated with plenty of lights and decorations, and some of you even managed to get Pops to dress up like Santa. A Santa who was currently getting wasted on eggnog. The sight made you relax your guard a bit, which was the perfect time for Marco to attack. Attack from above, to be precise; the glow from his blue phoenix form blended in perfectly with the various Christmas-themed lights. 

So you didn’t have a chance of noticing until a mistletoe was placed right on top of your nose. Bumping into your face softly as Marco was hovering right above you, Mistletoe attached to his taloned feet with a string. 

“Caught you, yoi.” He smirks down at you, this time intentionally bumping the Mistletoe into you now. You shake a finger at him. “You’re cheating; you’re using your devil fruit powers!” Marco shrugs. “I don’t remember there being a rule against it, yoi.” The lazy smirk still present on his face as he turns upside down, his face now replacing the earlier Mistletoe, bumping his nose on yours. “I still get my prize for winning now, right?” 

You look at his upside-down face and roll your eyes. “You’re lucky you’re cute, but next year? No using devil fruits.” You gently cup his cheek and lean in for a smooch, which he happily accepted. After the quick kiss, Marco did a small spin and landed upright for a quick second on the ground before scooping you up in his arms. Flying up above the Moby Dick with you in his arms, the ship shone brightly in the endless sea. Like a shining star in the night sky.

Marco rubs his nose against yours, resting his forehead on you as he looks into your eyes. The glow from the flaming feathers and the lights from below twinkle in both of your eyes. His voice is a low, gentle whisper as he leans in for a second kiss.

“Merry Christmas, my love."

[harlowsbby]

Jealous much?

Jack wasn’t a simp or that’s at least what he wanted people to think and believe. When it came to you he dropped anything and everything and would do absolutely anything for you.

When you had brought up the idea of going to the winter wonderland they had put together in Louisville Jack was thrilled to go well until he figured out you had invited Urban, 2fo, Ace and a few of the other guys.

The thing was Jack didn’t mind that they were all coming he just wish you would’ve told him sooner that way he would’ve said no to the matching ugly sweaters. The moment you both got out of the car Urban and Ace were on Jack like white on rice.

“Oh my gosh say this is a joke right now and you have a hoodie or something in the back.” Ace laughed and nudged 2fo’s and Sunni’s shoulder grabbing their attention as well.

“Man are you kidding me?!” Urban doubled over and laughter while Jack stood there awkwardly and with a irritated expression on his face.

“What’s wrong with his sweater? I think it’s cute.” The two of you wore matching green grinch themed sweaters, across Jack’s sweater it said “Her Grinch” and across yours it said “His Grinch”

“I mean nothing is wrong with it Y/N.”

“So what’s the issue?”

“Nothing at all we absolutely love it and you should’ve told us we could’ve all been matching.” One thing about the guys they weren’t ever going to make you feel stupid or upset you over something you’ve done or did for Jack.

“Well we always have Christmas we can all match for Christmas.” You told them before walking forward with Neelam.

“Yeah we always have Christmas guys.” Jack teased and they all groaned.

The Christmas wonderland was amazing you forced Jack to take pictures of you with Santa Claus and Elves even though he didn’t really want to because the guys were teasing him the entire time you weren’t looking.

Jack was full from all of the hot chocolate and cookies he had eaten and you decided to take a little stroll.

Jack and You walked hand in hand just strolling along ahead of everyone just in your own bubble and enjoying one another’s company.

“Did you have a good time today baby?”

“Yes I had a wonderful time thank you for taking me today Jack I needed a little break from reality for a bit.” He smiled and wrapped his arm around you brining him closer to him.

“You don’t mind do anything for you baby anything you want or need just name it and I’ll get it.”

“Where are we going? We’ve been walking this trail for the longest baby.” You smirked you knew exactly why the two of you were walking this fair because in the back of the trail they had nothing but mistletoe’s hanging for couples and of course when you’re under a mistletoe you have no other option but to kiss the person you’re with.

“Look up.” You told him, the minute he looked up he looked back at you with a smile on his mouth. “Oh is this is why we walked this far.”

“You already know so pucker up and give me a kiss.” Jack took your arms and wrapped them around his neck and placed his hands on your hips.

“Gimme me some sugar baby.” “Sugar?” You cringed at his choice of words but kissed him anyways. The two of you were so into your kiss that you didn’t even notice Urban and Ace approach the two of you.

“Well damn not the two of you both about to have a porno with children present.” Ace joked, rolling your eyes you pulled away from Jack.

“You’re just mad you don’t have anybody for the holidays.” You sassed back. Ace raised his hands in defense.

“I’m not here for a fight I just wanna say we truly find your relationship with Jack so adorable I love the way you made him all soft.” Ace teased again, you raised your eyebrow at Urban and Ace. You looked up at Jack who had an annoyed face.

“I feel like the two of you are being sarcastic? Are you two jealous or something don’t be mad over the fact that Jack finally found his other half meanwhile you two are still out here sleeping with every bitch in Louisville and if you don’t mind I’m going to take my man back home and give him so much needed attention if you know what I mean.”

Urban and Ace’s jaws dropped Jack couldn’t help but to laugh.

“I guess she told y’all didn’t she. Now if you don’t mind me I’m going to get some much needed attention, see y’all tomorrow?” Jack laughed while Ace and Urban stood there in complete shock.

“I didn’t know Y/N was capable of snapping like that, remind me to never get on her bad side.” Urban nodded his head in agreement.

( for one 💗 )

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