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internetgremlin-writes · 1 year

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The Twelve Drivers of Christmas: Day Two

Movie night had been a long-standing affair between yourself and George. You couldn’t remember exactly when it had started, after a bad race at Williams when he was still just a rookie with big shiny eyes and the world at his feet. When crashing felt like the end of the world and seeking comfort was deeply embarrassing.

You’d found him curled up in his driver’s room and after virtually carrying him through the most painful round of interviews you’d had to sit through since you’d started your job several years ago as a PR girl he’d slunk off back to the hotel. Something about the way those blue eyes seemed to swim with heartbreak mellowed something inside of you and before you knew it you were knocking on the door of his hotel room at midnight and barging your way in. Maybe you couldn’t remember the date but you remembered forcing him to watch Legally Blonde, because he had no idea what a ‘comfort movie’ even was.

After that, movie night became a bit of an unspoken tradition. After a particularly tough day George would appear at your hotel room door with a bag of popcorn and eyes you couldn’t refuse and you’d let him pick out a film and snuggle down in your bed and forget the brutal world he came from for a few hours.

You moved to Mercedes for him, your job role morphing from his media manager to personal assistant. You both grew up, grew into the world you’d entered so young. Bad races no longer felt like the end of the world, but you were both so used to the routine that you never questioned it when he still turned up and he never missed an opportunity.

It was in Abu Dhabi, for the final race of the season where everything changed. George was ending his best season yet, and still riding high off the rush of his first ever win just a week prior. Everyone was out celebrating, and you were in your hotel room putting on the finishing touches of your makeup before you went out to join them when an unexpected knock at the door made you jump.

“Aren’t you supposed to be out?”

“Hello to you, too,” George looked only mildly put out at your greeting, but when you’ve just beaten your 7-time World Champion teammate to overall 4th place in the driver’s championship, you can’t look too sad about anything. “Can I come in?” You left the door open and retreated back to where you were sat in response. You heard the door click shut behind you and the quiet shuffle of George removing his shoes told you he’d followed you in.

“You look great,” You sent him a closed-eyes smile over your shoulder.

“Thanks,” He was sitting on the egde of your bed, hands folded neatly in his lap as he watched you swipe a layer of shiny gloss across your lips and make a playful kissy face at yourself in the mirror before finally turning to face him.

“Did you wanna head down together?” You asked, head cocked slightly to the side. George didn’t usually attend parties with you, even team events you tended to just find each other there. He shook his head at you.

“C’mon, last one of the season?”

“Georgie boy, you’re aware everyone else has been partying for several hours already?”

“Pick a short one then,” He’d shuffled back so he was propped up against your pillows, leaving you to crawl over and mimic his body language until you collapsed next to him. He handed over the remote control to the TV with flamboyant circumstance and let you flick through the aimless pages of Netflix until something cheesy and terrible caught your eye.

“It’s November,” You reasoned at his raised eyebrow in response to the movie splashed across the screen. George simply rolled his eyes and nodded, gesturing for you to press play as he settled down besides you.

An hour into a cheesy brainrot Christmas film you’d already forgotten the name of and you were starting to feel the error of your choice. After being steadily single for the last two years the gaudy couple finally getting together on screen were not as soothing as the bend-and-snap scene always felt.

“What?”

“What?” George was looking down at you, somewhere between confusion and amusement written across his pristine features.

“You’re sighing,”

“Am not,”

“You are,”

“These people make me sick,”

“They’re characters,” He reasoned, a grin starting to tug at the corner of his lips.

“So? They’re making me think about another year with every Aunt, Uncle and random Cousin asking me where my new boyfriend is. My family are obsessed,” George made a noise at the back of his throat that you hoped was at least somewhat deep in thought.

“Mine are the same,”

“Ugh,” He nudged you playfully.

“Ugh indeed,”

*****

It wasn’t until two weeks later you were reminded of the mid-movie conversation by George.

I have an idea.

Four words had never frightened and intrigued you so much. You met him at a cafe the next week. He was wearing a cream jumper and sipping on a coffee like he owned the place.

“Go on then,” You started, only once a gingerbread latte was situated in front of you, accompanied by an obnoxiously sweet pastry. “What’s your grand idea?”

“Me and you,” You raised an eyebrow at him, not following why he looked so pleased with himself over something that had been long, long established. “Okay, listen, I’ve thought about it a lot and it makes sense. What if I come with you to your Christmas and you come with me to mine? We’ve worked together for so long, it’s not hard to imagine us stretching to dating is it? I trust you, I like hanging out with you, what’s the harm in letting the annoying aunts and uncles believing there’s a bit more to it?”

For starters, you could name several harmful things that could hatch from George’s plan. But he was looking at you with ocean eyes and batting those lashes you couldn’t pay to get close to and you already knew you were going to cave and give in, because, you could be honest, who wouldn’t want to walk into Christmas day with 6’1 of drop dead gorgeous Formula One driver draped over you?

And that’s how you found yourself over a month later, George’s fingers intertwined with yours and resting on your thigh, a gesture that had become alarmingly familiar over the last few weeks. You were currently attending your fifth and final family event as a ‘couple’. It was a New Years Day party, something only a family like the Russels would hold. You were perfectly content to sit in your hangover and feel deep, deep shame for whatever things you’d gotten up to the night before under the influence of tequila shots, but no. George’s family were up at 9am, you’d already been out on an intensive dog walk that involved nothing short of scaling the side of a hill. George had taken your jacket (you were sweating too much to be able to wear it, even if it was two degrees) and then had virtually carried you up the final few meters to save face at the top. You’d giggled and twisted in his arms and called him ‘babe’ and all the things you were supposed to do.

You’d had a large dinner and to wash it down the family were sat around the fire sipping whiskey and slowly getting louder and looser. The weight of George’s hand on your lap was grounding you, bringing you back to reality as you were passed another drink, a gin for the ladies. He squeezed gently as you thanked his great-aunt Gretel for the tipple and that sudden, shameful feeling snuck back into the pit of your stomach.

You’d noticed it creeping up more and more frequently over the month. It was almost predictable, because it always happened when George did something so natural you forgot for a moment you weren’t dating and your mind leapt to the possibility of it being real and tangible. You’d never felt anything like that for him before, and you still weren’t sure you did. But you couldn’t deny the way your stomach would swoop when he touched the small of your back as you walked ahead of him, when his eyes found yours through a crowded room just to check you were okay, when you caught him chatting to your mum as if they were old friends.

The fire was dying, you were exhasuted, two weeks of rich food and strong drinks finally catching up with you. Most people had gone to bed, and it was just George and a handful of people left, they were speculating over the testing for the next season. It was all talk you’d heard a million times before and you were happy to let the words wash over you, the fire and a labrador’s head on your feet leaving you feeling fuzzy and content in a home that wasn’t yours. You allowed your head to drop onto George’s shoulder, the material of his jumper soft against your cheek.

You felt him turn to glance at you, before letting out a low chuckle and wrapping his free arm around your waist, allowing you to relax further into his body as he continued to talk.

The physical contact was a new thing too. You wondered if it would have always felt so good to have him so close? Had you missed out on years of cuddling against him during movie night, always separated by the invisible barrier of friendship? He was a good sleeper, too. That had been an awkward obstacle at first, there’s a certain expectation that when you bring your partner home that you’ll be sharing a bed, especially during the visiting season. The first night George had tried to sleep in the armchair in your room, but when you’d woken up at one o’clock to see him still awake you’d invited him in. It had started off normal enough, backs facing each other and just ignoring the warm weight of another person right besides you. You’d woken up with George’s face buried in your neck, his arms wrapped around you and holding you tight against his chest. You didn’t talk about it, but the pair of you just got into bed together, and you let him spoon you from the start.

“Hey,” He nudged you gently, just enough to stir you from the cozy half-sleep you’d been in.

“Hi,”

“Come on, we’re the last ones up, let’s go to bed,” You nodded sleepily, standing up and stretching lazily, letting the sleeves of his jumper flop back over your hands. They never stayed rolled up for long on your anyway. The dog at your feet rose and stretched in time with you, you gave her a scratch on her head before she quietly padded over and flopped into the bed by the fire, which George had quietly put out.

You followed him up the wooden staircase, trying not to giggle too much at the creeks.

“It’s a good job they put the deaf ones by the stairs,” he whispered, head titled in the direction of the spare room a set of his grandparents were currently staying in. George had a big family, and you loved it. Yours wasn’t big, but it was close. It was nice to feel surrounded by people who loved him so dearly, and by extension, you.

You nearly walked into George, who’d stopped in the small patch of landing at the top of the stairs.

“What are you doing?”

“Look,” He pointed upwards. Hanging off the lights was a wizened bunch of mistletoe. “Mum always forgets to take one down,”

George’s mum was obsessed with mistletoe. You’d learnt that the hard way, and many (far too many for your liking) cheek kisses had been placed for the explicit entertainment of distant relatives.

“If you drool on my cheek again I’ll punch you in the stomach,” you warned him, referencing the last kiss, that had been encouraged by milky-eyed Greta. It was a good job she was losing her sight because George had thought himself funny enough to end the kiss by licking a stripe along your cheek.

You hadn’t payed attention to the way his arms had snaked around your wasit.

“What are you doing?” He was too close, it was triggering that swooping feeling again. You could hardly make out his eyes in the dimly lit gloom of the darkened house.

“Would it be so bad if I kissed you?”

You couldn’t answer even if you’d wanted to. George was fogging your mind and he was leaning closer and closer and the only thing you wanted was to taste him.

“No,” You whispered, so close your lips were already brushing as you gave him the word. His arms tightened around you, pulling you closer as he kissed you properly.

It was sweet, chaste almost. It felt revered and special and not at all how kissing your best friend should feel, you thought as your eyes fluttered shut and the swooping intensified into a surge and your whole mind and body ached for him. He pulled away too soon, wet eyes and dopey smile giving him away.

He didn’t kiss you again until you were settled in bed, facing each other for the first time. He let you shuffle as close as you could get, brushing a hand through his hair as he rubbed patterns along your hip.

“I’ve got an idea,” he whispered against your lips.

“No more ideas, George,”

“You’ll like this one,” he held your cheek so tenderly it made you want to cry.

“Tell me,” you told him between ineffectuate pecks at his lips.

“What if it’s real, you and me?”

“I think it has been a bit real,” it’s funny how the dark lets you admit things you’d never normally.

“What if it carries on, being real, after Christmas? After the break?” He was kissing your cheeks, your nose, anywhere he could reach on your face.

“I think I’d like that,”

You fell asleep against his mouth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Okay I never thought I'd be into George but this was so much fun to write and fake dating warms my s o u l

it's pretty late so i'm gonna leave you guys with this and pop in tomorrow to edit and check in

Mr Pierre Gasly is next up on Tuesday 06/12!

#12 drivers of christmas #12DOC #george russel #x reader #fic #fanfiction #imagine #oneshot #fake dating #mistletoe #formula one #f1 #mercedes #williams

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cariantha · 1 year

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Special thanks to the lovely @jamespotterthefirst for hosting this holiday reblog game.

📷Picta Post/Story 📱Text Message 🖼️Manip 📽️Video

🍐Day One

🕊️Day Two 📷

🐔Day Three 📷

🐦Day Four 📷

💍Day Five 📱(🔥NSFW)

🦆Day Six 🖼️

🦢Day Seven

🐄Day Eight 📽️

💃🏼Day Nine 📷

🕺🏽Day Ten 📷

🎺Day Eleven 📱 (🔥NSFW)

🥁Day Twelve 🖼️

#12doc #manips #open heart #open heart choices #open heart fanfic #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x mc #ethan x sawyer #choices stories you play #choices open heart #playchoices #masterlist

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mysticalgalaxysstuff · 1 year

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🎄☃️12 Days of Christmas🎄☃️

(hosted by @/jamespotterthefirst)

💚 Day 1 -> Distracted

❤️ Day 2 -> Red

💚 Day 3 -> Date & Decor

❤️ Day 4 -> Green Christmas

💚 Day 5 -> Gliding

❤️ Day 6 -> Snow Retreat

💚 Day 7 -> Wish Come True

❤️ Day 8 -> The Elf-ing Problem

💚 Day 9 -> Do you want to make a Snowman?

❤️ Day 10 -> The Gingerbread Houses Battle

💚 Day 11 -> Christmas Eve

❤️ Day 12 -> Christmas Date

#ethan ramsey #marissa sanders #ethan x marissa #12DOC #mini masterlist

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peonyblossom · 7 months

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okay i know it's only september, but as i was looking through some Choices assets i found something that reminded me of the earmuffs i picked as Sydney's fave winter accessory for @jamespotterthefirst's 12 days of christmas game so...

ta da!

#playchoices #playchoices edit #open heart #sydney valentine #sydney valentine edit #12doc #12 days of christmas

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jerzwriter · 1 year

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Are you doing the rest of the 12 days of Christmas?

Yes, I am. I'm just in a very busy time at work, and of course, getting ready for the holidays. Helping run a big gift-giving event tomorrow, and have a friend staying over for a couple of days because of a canceled flight.

So... hasn't allowed for a lot of time, and I don't like doing it half-assed. So, hopefully, on Friday, I'll start having some time to sit back and enjoy myself doing them and also looking at everyone else's. I love to do that.

#12DOC #asks answered

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finnofamerica · 2 years

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god im so fuckin excited for 12 days of christmass 2022

#finn talks #personal #12doc #12 days of christmas #im not drunk

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namorian · 4 months

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#and i mean this in the most unkind way #doctor who hell #12doc hell #love michelle gomez but i want to hit moffat's characterization of the master to death with hammers #why would the master call himself MISSY this is just nonsense like no i'm sorry #and being so desperate for the doctor in a different kind of unhinged way that's like ONLY used on women is so vile #like yeah the master is always a Massive Freak about the doctor but this is only being written LIKE THIS bc she's a women now #moffat villains who give off the same rancid dogshit vibes #his run thus far in doctor who has been less shit than i'd anticipated i now see how people got tricked into thinking sherlock was good #it's less blatantly bad than i'd thought it be it's more insidious in it's dogshit writing but now that missy's actually Doing Things #i can see the seams more and more and not even doctor who being a trashy camp scifi hodgepodge can save it

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jamespotterthefirst · 1 year

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12 Days of Christmas: Day 02

Prompts:

Keeping warm

Holiday drink

All Red Everything

You can choose one, two, or all three prompts. Feel free to reblog with any type of content you wish. These can be pictures, social media edits, HCs— anything your heart desires!

#ethan ramsey #open heart #ethan x mc #12doc

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internetgremlin-writes · 1 year

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The Twelve Drivers Of Christmas: Day One

“You are aware that this is the exact opposite of what you’re supposed to do at Christmas?”

“Laney, what the hell are you talking about?” You snapped down the phone at your assistant.

“In the movies! You’re supposed to move to the quaint village in the country, not away from it and into the city!” You rolled your eyes, your gate had just opened and you didn’t have time for this.

“This isn’t a movie, okay? I need a break. You need to go home, I’ll talk to you in the new year,” You put the phone down, partly because you loved a dramatic exit and mainly because handing your passport and boarding pass over to the flight attendant wasn’t going well one-handed.

Once you were finally settled in your business class seat, noise cancelling headphones fitted on your eyes, silk sleep mask on your eyes and the perfect playlist keeping you occupied, Laney’s words floated back to you. You weren’t moving away, not yet anyway, this was just a city break. Was it contraversial to take yourself on holiday alone at Christmas? Maybe, but you didn’t really care.

Small town life wasn’t for you. Hell, you’d tried. You’d tried so, so hard to make it work, to fit in, to play your part. You’d built up your parents small business, but lost favour when you’d become so successful you started expanding it into consultancy, dealing with much larger companies from multiple countries. Up until a year ago you had the boyfriend, quarterback and star pupil of your high school, you the shining gem on his arm. Not quite a cheerleader, but the beauty of the academic decathlon team and track athlete on the side. You knew everyone in your town, it wasn’t your fault you disliked most of them.

Maybe you saw too much, too aware of how backwards life was. You’d always been drawn to life in the fast lane. Faster paced, more money, more people, more places, more things. You’d been obsessed with New York since a family holiday you’d had when you were eight, but unlike every other kid who wanted to be a Broadway star or a mysteriously rich woman, you idolised the business people. The men in perfectly tailored suits, women who carried a bespoke leather briefcase with an air of confidence your immature mind had never known, that’s what you wanted to be like.

You landed in New York a few short hours later. You could have driven really, should have if you’d stopped to think about the environment for a second, but you’d been given another one of those - dare you say it - pitying looks from your mother at your indifference to the Christmas tree she’d picked out and the itch to leave finally overwhelmed you. You’d booked tickets for a flight that evening and left without saying goodbye.

It was cold. Much colder than you were used to. You should have known better by now, but it always surprised you how you were a few states north and suddenly the pleasant chill in the air was bitter and cruel, sucking the breath from your lungs and freezing it in front of your face. Your ears and nose stung, your hands finding new homes for themselves deep in the lined pockets of your best coat. Maybe it was a sign that you’d never minded the cold, you liked the way it made you feel alive.

You had no immediate plans, you’d booked to be there long enough you’d be spending both Christmas and the New Year in the penthouse hotel suite, but you hadn’t planned what you’d do once you’d actually arrived. Dropping your bags off felt sensible, to say the least, so you checked yourself into your hotel, added a few more layers to your outfit and found yourself heading back out into the darkening sky.

It was early in the afternoon to be getting dark, but you thought nothing of it as you looked up at the continuous whiteout of sky that was greying with the day. You bought a pretzel and went to Central Park.

The first flakes of snow were magical. Maybe you hated Christmas, but you loved winter and those few snow days you’d manage to rack up each year were the memories you cherished the most. You sat on a bench and watched as the park slowly began to white out, a powder dust settling around you. You liked the way that snowfall brought with it a dampening of all sound. Even in New York everything stilled, the rumble of traffic fading further away and the voices of people sharing the park with you distanced, until finally you were gifted the space you were craving. Allowed to be completely and totally alone.

You were so lost in your mind that you didn’t notice the powdering of snow turning into a storm, a thick blanket replacing the sugarcoating. You also didn’t realise you’d been wandering aimlessly around Central Park and now everything was rounded and washed by the snow you came to the realisation that you were completely and totally lost.

Trying not to panic too much at the thought of having survived less than three hours as an independent adult in New York before you had to face your inevitable death you pulled your big coat tighter against your body and began to retrace your steps, head down and eyes trained on the crisp outlines of your shoes that were rapidly filling in as the steady fall of snow showed no signs of letting up.

You were doing pretty well too, until you power-walked head-first into another body coming towards you. You couldn’t help yourself from scoffing out loud, it felt like a cruel trick by the universe that these sickening cliches seemed to happen to you and not someone like Laney, who by now would have been besides herself with glee and convinced she’d just met her soulmate. In your train of thoughts you’d completely forgotten about the person you’d hit.

“Well you could watch where you’re going you know?”

“What?” You found yourself totally takenaback at the man in front of you. He was scowling, brushing away the snow that was gathering on his expensive looking grey peacot as quickly as it was landing.

“You walked into me,” You blinked in shock at the blunt response.

“Yeah I know, I’m sorry,” His face instantly changed, the sulky look lifted and something almost smug replacing it.

“See? Wasn’t so hard,” That threw you.

“What the fuck? I just apologised, no need to be such an asshole about it,” The scowl was back. He had a thick mop of dark hair that fell just before his eyes, full eyebrows and long lashes to match. Dark brown eyes were narrowed in your direction. He was taller than you, forcing him to tilt his head dwon and you noticed snow was collecting in his hair. He shrugged, shoulders tense.

“Watch where you’re going next time,” You rolled your eyes.

“Like you have any right to the trail path. It’s not my fault I have no idea where I am,” You grumbled, no longer interested in entertaining the moody stranger and went to push past him, your shoulder knocking against his elbow. The few moments stationary were enough of a reminder that you’d experience the shift from chilly to bitterly cold.

A gloved hand caught your elbow, and before you could snap a warning to be left alone, you found yourself once again with the man in the expensive coat in front of you.

“Are you lost?”

“No,”

“You just said-”

“It doesn’t matter,”

“But I know-”

“I don’t care what you do or don’t know,”

“Just- wait!” He caught you, your attempt to pull away and storm off once again thwarted. He was faster than he looked for a rich boy. “That’s the wrong way,”

“You don’t even know where I’m going,”

“I assume you don’t want to be going deeper into the park right now,”

“Maybe I do,” You challenged, disgusing tucking your hands into your armpits for warmth as an irritated fold of your arms.

“If you wanna freeze out here, sure,” Something in you broke a little. It really was cold. Maybe something gave in your face, because he finally released his vice grip on your arm.

“My name is Lance,”

“Y/N,”

“Okay, Y/N, can I at least get you back to the road?” You thought of your warm hotel bed, and more accurately, the clawfoot bath you’d been looking forward to soaking in.

“Fine,” You fell into step beside him, pliantly following as he branched up a fork in the trail onto a pathway covered in virgin snow. “How do I know you’re not leading me the wrong way so you can murder me?” It was a half-formed thought, only really spoken because you were always one to think aloud and because there was something about getting under the stranger’s skin that gave you a sick little kick. He turned to frown at you, eyebrows so tight they almost touched in the middle, but there was a small smirk playing at the corners of his full lips.

“Ha, I don’t think that would be good for my image,” Of course, he had a stupid answer.

“Your image,” you mocked “What are you, some kind of celebrity?” He shrugged, but the smile that broke out across his face gave him away. His canine teeth were a little pointed. It was almost cute.

“Kinda,”

“That’s not an answer,” You pointed out as you followed half a pace behind him through another turn you’d missed before. The trees were starting to thin out.

“I’m an athlete,”

“Professional?” It wasn’t really a question, if he was an athlete and thought he was some kind of a celebrity he had to be a professional, or have the biggest head in the world. He nodded.

“Shouldn’t you be on a beach on a private island somewhere then?” He laughed. You’d never heard anyone laugh like him before, making three clear “ha” sounds but somehow also sounding genuine.

“I’m from Canada. Beaches aren’t really my thing,” So that was why he looked so comfortable in what could only be described now as a blizzard.

“Me neither,” You agreed. “Always preferred the city,”

“You live here?” You shook your head.

“I wish, I’m just visiting,”

“You got a fancy penthouse somewhere then? Whole family gathered around for Christmas in New York?” There was no way you could hide the bitter undertone in your voice, even if you had tried to be making gentle conversation. Lance scoffed, and kicked out at a pile of snow in front of him with the toe of a polished leather boot.

“Yeah right,”

“What?” You’d missed something. You knew it was rude to intrude but you couldn’t help yourself, his string of vague answers had somewhat piqued your curiosity and you couldn’t deny the fact that you wanted to know more about him.

“My family - my dad - we, uh, we don’t see eye to eye all the time. It’s hard when you work together all year, I needed a break,” You hadn’t been expected to be hit smack in the chest with such honesty, and you definitely weren’t prepared for the way brown eyes were suddenly trained on you, wide and vulnerable and almost pleading.

“I- I’m on my own too,” You managed, chest suddenly tight and the words of admission getting caught in your throat. Part of you felt guilty that there was no drama you were escaping from, you were just bored. Sick of people who loved you wholly and unconditionally and bored. Lance seemed to understand your half-confession for what you wanted it to be; an agreement.

You realised you’d stopped walking. You were stood on the sidewalk, beside a sludgy road full of drivers cursing the weather. He was watching you as if he was waiting for something.

“Thanks, for getting me out of there,” you smiled, genuine for the first time in a long time. “And for the company,” you added as an afterthought. Something about the snow seemed to invite honesty hour.

“Hey,” The singular word was enough for you to turn to face the Canadian once more. There was a streetlight behind him, illuminating him in a soft orange glow. You didn’t know how an hour could change someone entirely from a miserable, rude man to what you could only describe as an angel on earth.

“Can I take you out for a drink tomorrow?”

“It’s Christmas tomorrow,”

“You’re not doing anything,” He countered. “Neither am I,”

Honestly? Fuck it. It was the only thought in your head. You’d flown out to New York for change, for time to yourself, for anything to break up the monotony of your small town life. It seemed silly to turn down the first chance you got for exactly that.

“Yeah, okay,”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Is it even an Iggy fic if it's not posted late?

Anyway, here is the first of the F1 Christmas minifics. Lance was surprisingly challenging to write for and that combined with an upsettingly busy week meant I put it off for a little bit too long.

I'm kinda pleased with this one, and there will be a spicier part two coming out after Christmas. Next up and putting us back on schedule is George, also coming out tonight!

Follow the hashtag 12DOC for all fics and updates as they come out!

#12 drivers of christmas #lance stroll #x reader #fic #fanfiction #winter #snow #meet cute #grumpy x grumpy #f1 #formula one #aston martin #lawrence stroll mention #12DOC

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abiiors · 5 months

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we went to winter wonderland 🎄// matty healy x reader

twelve days of christmas - day 2

a/n: i've been slightly sad about...everything and writing is hard atm but i also don't want to abandon 12doc so have something that's loosely based on my irl relationship. it's really short, sorry :( cw: none, just fluff wc: 1k

the last ever winter they spend apart is quite shit to put it bluntly.

matty’s a million kilometres away in LA where winter’s only a concept while she’s in their bed, alone and begrudgingly cuddling his hoodie in lieu of him and cussing out her boss and her boss’ boss and so on all the way to the top until she’s googled the ceo of the parent company that owns her firm and cussed him out too. matty laughs shamelessly the whole time. one, because she looks as threatening as a baby penguin all angry and swaddled in blankets, and two, because it’s her.

she’s never failed to make him laugh. ever.

“baby…” he tries to pacify, “it’s alright.”

“no it’s not!” her tone is firm. "i should be with you in LA! not rotting here in our bed because work got in the way."

her nose is slightly red from being out in the cold (it was the first snow of the season after all, matty knew she would be out) but he tells her to get tea regardless. and now, armed with a steaming mug of herbal tea and the saddest pout a girl could have, she looks all the more cuddly.

“okay how about this,” he suggests, “you have your switch don’t you? go get it.”

her face contorts in confusion. “you don’t have yours.”

“i’ll just steal hann’s.”

“matthew!”

but she gets up regardless, even if it’s after a few grumbles of “ugh, i just got cosy!”

matty, through their facetime call, wanders through the house with her. he has to admit—it’s lonely and quiet without him there. their home—perfect for two and too big for just her. he can’t wait to get back though. even sunny LA is a touch too cold without her there.

“what do you wanna play?” she asks once she settles in bed again and matty’s ready with the answer.

“animal crossing.”

“babe… we haven’t played that in ages, it’s gonna be so shit!”

he frowns at her stubbornness. “just turn it on will you? it will have snowed on there. you always love making those anatomically challenged snowmen!”

there’s a small giggle that follows. she’s well aware of what he’s referring to—they almost have a competition of sorts about who can make the most deranged-looking animal crossing snowman.

as predicted, it’s weeds and more weeds everywhere the minute the game turns on. her little avatar exits her house, looking dishevelled and still in curated summer clothes. oh well…

matty grins. “so i was thinking…”

“yeah?”

“we won’t get to go to a winter wonderland this year!”

“yeah,” she pouts again.

“i was thinking we could make one.”

“in animal crossing?”

“in animal crossing!”

for a moment she’s quiet and matty worries that it’s a stupid idea. it is a little lame if he’s honest but there’s not much they can do with an entire ocean between them. but just as he feels his grin slipping, hers widens on her face.

“matty! you are brilliant! i love you.”

“what was that?” he teases, laughing when she pokes her tongue out.

“last to finish is the loser,” she declares. and before he’s even had a chance to plan a heist for adam’s switch, she’s shouting “go!” amidst protests from him and maniacal laughter from her.

matty doesn’t care though—this is almost a complete 180 turnaround in her mood in quite a few days.

two hours and a worrying amount of bickering later, they’re ready for the grand reveal.

“mine is so much better!” she declares as soon as matty’s little avatar lands on her island. even her fucking avatar looks adorable, all bundled up in a big coat and matty’s ready to declare her the winner right there. still, he indulges her.

he already knows it—hers is so much better! she’s always had an eye for all things cute (him included) but he stays and he listens.

soft snow falls behind her on the facetime call and it’s clearly visible through the giant windows and the switch almost casts a perfect glow on her. not that matty’s entirely focussing on her tour of her animal crossing winter wonderland; he’d much rather stare at her while she’s talking but it’s over far too soon and before he knows it, her avatar is on his (hann’s) island and she’s laughing hysterically at his attempt of a wonderland.

“matty!” she shrieks. “baby, this is so bad”

“what? how dare you, take that back!”

“there are weeds in the middle of your ‘skating rink’.”

“uhhhh…” matty ends up shrugging much to her amusement.

“yours is so shit!” she teases. “we agree that i’m the winner, right?”

“got you out of your grumpy mood though, didn’t i? so who’s the real winner here?”

“still me!”

and so he relents. two hours and a shit in game winter wonderland is a fantastic trade to make in exchange for her laugh.

ten more minutes and she gets a little emotional again because of course she does. matty watches some of the joy in her eyes drain away, replaced by a tinge of the same sadness from before.

“i hate being without you, especially during winters! it gets so cold.” the corners of her mouth turn down and a soft ache fills his chest.

“i know, darling… i hate missing christmas but you’ll be with me next month, yeah?”

“yeah.”

much to his relief she doesn’t let it get her down this time, she tries to change the topic and talk about everything she’s been up to and all the plans she has with her friends. matty’s mind is made up though—this is the last winter he's willing to spend without her. come january, the ring hidden in his suitcase will find its place on her finger.

lemme know what you think <33

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canon-transgender-virgil · 2 years

Text

SANDERS SIDES SPOILERS AHEAD, YOU'VE BEEN WARNED

Hey yeah I'm overanalyzing their rooms now that we cANONICALLY KNOW WHAT EACH OF THEIR ROOMS LOOKS LIKE????? (if i miss anything while combing through these picture lmk!)

First up, Patton's room!

Lots of plushies! Lovely touch, not that surprised cuz it's, you know, Patton.

Cat statue! (lamp? I can't tell jdjsjsj)

And a cat poster right above his head!

I can't tell what picture that is on his desk :(

But I can tell that his glasses are on there, as well as a plate of two cookies (love that callback) and... A bible. Specifically the Bible Patton swore his oath on in SvS. Interesting touch...

And lastly, the card Virgil gave him during 12DOC (which I find interesting because, to me at least, this symbolizes that Patton still views Virgil as or believes Virgil to still be his best friend which is, uh... Not quite the case right now).

Also notably, Patton doesn't wear his onesie to sleep here?

Alright, next up is Roman!

Right off the bat, THAT IS A FACE MASK PEOPLE, ROMAN CANONICALLY HAS A SKINCARE ROUTINE ‼️

Next, his katana right next to his bed which I imagine he uses fairly often because if you'll look in the bottom left hand corner, you can see Remus stealing one of Roman's crocheted (knitted?) stars off of his desk

After that is his poster, which says Adventure Is Out There (maybe an Up poster? I can't find the exact one but knowing Roman it's probably that)

And speaking of Disney, I just noticed that he's sleeping in his Beauty and the Beast onesie oh my gosh

I love the amount of Roman toys he has in his room idjshshs

I can't tell what that bottle is right behind the Roman Youtooz, if anyone can, can you let me know?

[EDIT FOR ABOVE: People have told me that the bottle is pillow spray which, yeah, makes sense for Roman jdjdjsjs]

And finally, the bulletin board! Two pictures of himself, one of Leslie Odom Jr., and 3 Post-Its that read (from top to bottom): "TAKE DANCE CLASSES AGAIN", "YOU GOT THIS PAL", and "WWLOJD?" (which I realized far too late means "What Would Leslie Odom Jr. Do?" idjdjsjs)

Alright, Virgil's room now!!

It is. So dark. I had to turn my phone's brightness up to max to even be able to see half of it ksjsjsjsj

First off, Virgil wears a Green Day shirt and Thomas's black jacket to sleep! (If you don't remember, this is the same jacket Thomas wore during parts 1 and 2 of Accepting Anxiety and in Working Through Intrusive Thoughts!)

If you'll look right behind Virgil, there's a laptop open to... A YouTube lyric video. Dude listens to emo music without headphones to go to sleep, oh my God /pos

[EDIT ABOVE: According to Thomas, he's watching a Jack the Ripper conspiracy video, not a lyric video! Still, incredibly fitting for Virgil kdjdjsjs]

Now to the darker parts of the room:

He has a whiteboard that says "[Number (it's actually a pound sign but i don't want this to end up as a hashtag jdjsjsj)] of days since last total disaster", with 5 being the number of days. Does this mean that this video takes place five days after WTIT, or is it just an insignificant number?

I literally can't tell what all is on Virgil's desk so if anyone does please let me know, but what I can tell is that he's got an expo marker (for the whiteboard) and (presumably) melatonin, which (alongside the tossing and turning) I imagine confirms that Virgil has trouble sleeping

[EDIT FOR ABOVE: He also has a spider plush, a book of Grimm's Fairytale, fake candles(?) and Patton's card pinned underneath it! That's fascinating to me and I've taken it to mean that Virgil doesn't want to complete throw away his friendship with Patton but he's nowhere near "buddy buddy" with him anymore]

And finally, Logan!

Look at his blue ass bed and matching pjs and sleep mask I freaking love him

He's got a periodic table poster over his bed!!!

Now let's check out his desk

He has all five plushies with him!!! Everyone else just had theirs but he has all five! (Angst writers come get your food pspspsps)

They're all sitting on a notebook (presumably the one Logan uses to write down when someone says something stupid?) which is on top of the fanfic Roman gave him for Christmas which i freaking love 😭

His solved Rubix cube is sitting on what looks to be a crossword of the day calendar sort of thing?

EMPTY CROFTERS JAR BEHIND EVERYTHING HE CANONICALLY EATS IT IN HIS ROOM

Oh my God that is the 10th Doctor Funko Pop right by the plushies

And his flashcards are under his glasses!

[EDIT FOR ABOVE: The notebook above the script is a Journal 3 notebook from Gravity Falls and he also has a TARDIS behind the plushies and a smart lamp! (Hence the clapping)]

Again, if i missed something someone let me know jdjdhs

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #ts logan #ts roman #ts virgil #ts patton #tss spoilers #ts spoilers

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