đşDominic's POV - Christmas Morning
Agh! The cum is all crispy now over my stomach.
Great. Just great. Gotta shower before the damn wolf simp shows up.
I wake up to noise.
Not the normal kind of morning noise-like birds, or the heater, or my own grumbling stomach. No. This is worse. This is humming. Off-key, squeaky, chaotically festive humming.
My wolf brain is still half-asleep, but even in this state I can tell someone's butchering a Christmas carol two doors down.
I groan, drag a pillow over my face, and mutter, "Why... why the hell do I live with a chaotic elf sparkle-goblin in glitter pajamas..."
Of course, the humming gets louder.
And then the jingling starts.
Bells! Actual bells!
Before I can even sit up, my door slams open-and in bursts Lean. Wearing something shiny. Jingling like a possessed reindeer. Bouncing around like he just snorted an entire bag of powdered sugar.
I salvage my last scrap of dignity by yanking up the bedsheet.
"Puppers!! WAKE UP! It's Christmas morning!!"
I squint at him. "...Why are you like this? And why can't you knock?!"
Seriously. I need to teach this vampire human manners. Are all of his kind this crackhead, or is this one specifically malfunctioning?
"Presents!! We gotta open them!"
"What presents?!"
I glance toward the tree in the living room from my bed, then back at him. "Where the hell did those even come from? I didn't buy anything. You didn't either."
He puffs up like I just insulted his religion. "Santa brought them, duh."
"...Santa isn't real. What are you, five?"
Lean gasps so loudly you'd think I punted a puppy. "Blasphemy! Puppers, don't you know Santa is real? But only for people who believe. You, my poor skeptical wolf, have been on the naughty list since birth."
I glare. He wiggles his brows.
"What the fuck-you mean this thing is real?" I'm genuinely concerned someone broke in last night and planted bombs under my tree, and this dumbass thinks it's Santa.
"Well, in the world of monsters, everything is real yet illusion, sweetheart!" he grins, smug as hell.
And damn it, those wide, sparkly puppy eyes... I sigh. "Fine. Let's get this over with. But... how the hell did you even-fuck, leave it."
So apparently, yeah. Santa Claus is real. And I'm learning at 23 that all you need is blind belief. Is this... a cult?
---
The first gift shoved into my hands is a sweater. Not just any sweater. A bright red monstrosity with "BIG BAD WOLF #DADDY PUPPERS!!" stitched across the chest in glittery gold thread.
I stare at it. Then at him. Then back at it.
He beams. "Santa told me you needed it!!"
"...Santa needs to mind his own damn business."
Still, I pull it on. Just to shut him up. It's itchy. It's embarrassing. He looks like he might cry from happiness. And, well... maybe I don't totally hate it.
I AM THE ULTIMATE DADDY PUPPERS!!
Then he pulls out a bone. A massive, ancient-looking bone. With a note attached:
"To Lean. You were a good kid last year and helped many. I heard you lost your family, but a werewolf took you in. Though he is on Santa's bloody bastard list, I'm sending you this bone for your wolf who's been taking care of you. With love, Mrs. Claus."
What. The. Fuck.
Did that old lady rob a museum? Is this a goddamn T-Rex femur? Why does everyone think I'm a damn dog?! I'm an alpha wolf!
...Not to mention that bone does look pretty tempting. Might chew it later.
Next, Lean drags out his own gift-a massive stuffed wolf that looks suspiciously like me. My hackles rise instantly.
"Why do you need that thing?" I snap.
He cuddles it dramatically, burying his face in the fur. "Because someone won't let me sleep in his bed. Soooo... now I have Mini-Puppers to hug at night!"
"...Mini-Puppers?!"
He nods innocently while squeezing the life out of it.
My wolf bristles. I hate it. I hate that stupid toy. And I hate how stupidly jealous I feel of it. Toy, get ready to die.
---
Then comes breakfast.
I nearly collapse in horror when he proudly presents his "Christmas masterpiece."
"Ta-da! Snowman pancakes!!"
They look less like snowmen and more like... snowmen who died tragically in a car accident. Twice. And were peed on by a raccoon.
I clutch my chest. My poor kitchen. "HOW MANY DAMN TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU TO STAY A MILE AWAY FROM MY KITCHEN?!"
"But you liked the chicken soup ball I made last time!" (Okay, that was suspiciously delicious...)
"Also I cried a whole night mourning my kitchen!!" I snap.
He just grins, waiting for me to try one. Doesn't care what I say.
I brace myself, take a bite... and begrudgingly admit it's not awful. Sweet, burnt around the edges, but edible.
He claps like I just won Olympic gold. "See!! I told you I can cook!!"
I grunt. "Don't push your luck."
Still, when he beams at me across the table-glitter sweater, messy gold hair, syrup on his chin-something in my chest tightens.
Wait isn't he allergic to syrup? He touched that for me, huh.
Maybe Christmas isn't so bad.
đ§ââď¸Lean's POV - Christmas Morning
I leap out of bed before my brain even registers consciousness. The frost outside sparkles like someone spilled sugar across the world, and I need to share this joy immediately.
I yank the curtains open in my room and laugh to myself. Which vampire doesn't want to soak in warm sunshine on Christmas morning? (Okay, every other vampire except me=sun-toasted corpses,
Those aren't festive. But I'm immune. Thanks, Mom.)
Straight to the kitchen I go. (Technically, I'm not allowed there. Do I care? No.)
"Let's bake some snowman pancakes," I huff. I used to make them with Mom. Toss in flour. Some salt. A little sugar. (Okay, a lot.) Crack three eggs. Add some random sparkly things from the counter. Mix, mix! Shape it! Shove it in the microwave!
The microwave is... making noises. It looks like it's about to puke. (Okay, I may have spilled too much batter while having a crusade with the electric whisk.) Whatever. Festivity waits for no man-or wolf.
I burst into his room.
The wolf-my wolf-is groaning from his nest of blankets like the ultimate grump of the North Pole. Honestly, how does someone that handsome look so annoyed first thing in the morning? It's practically a Christmas miracle.
I fling open his curtains dramatically. "Good morning, Puppers! Merry Christmas!!"
He grumbles something unintelligible, burying his face in a pillow like he's refusing to acknowledge the holiday. I can practically hear him thinking: Why do I live with a chaotic elf sparkle goblin in glitter pajamas? Hah. Bingo.
I dash over, jingling my bells, waving tiny gifts, bouncing around like a sugar-high reindeer. "Presents!! Come on, you have to open them with me!"
He squints, suspicious. "Where the hell did these come from?"
Santa, of course. "Santa! Duh. Only for people who believe. And I believe. So naturally, he left gifts for me... and you."
His face twists like I just told him I replaced his tail with spaghetti. "...Santa's real? What are you, five?"
I grin, twirling a candy cane. "Blasphemy! Puppers, don't you know Santa is real? But only for people who believe. You, my poor skeptical wolf, have been on the naughty list since birth."
I flash my widest, most puppy-eyed grin. He groans, yet his ears twitch, tail flicking. I've got him already.
Gifts are unwrapped. His sweater-glittery, obnoxious, perfect-is on him before he can protest. His eyes betray him: he hates it, but also... he doesn't. I snap a quick picture because this memory deserves a permanent place in the chaos chronicles.
Then a sweet gift from granny Claus, a big bone for Puppers, I am literally seeing him drooling to chew, what a DOG!
Then I present my own gift: a massive stuffed wolf, practically his doppelganger. He's furious. "Why do you need that thing?!"
"Because someone won't let me sleep in his bed!" I declare, burying my face in it dramatically. "Mini-Puppers is mine now!"
His growl almost melts me. Almost. He is jealous and I know it so damn well. Face it, grump.
Next comes my culinary masterpiece: Christmas breakfast. Snowman pancakes. They might look like roadkill, but I made them with love! And syrup. Definitely syrup.
He's suspicious at first but takes a bite... then another. The wolf approves. My heart does a happy jig.
My Alpha Wolf loves it.
đşDominic's POV: (Afternoon Chaos)
I don't know why the hell I let him drag me out like this.
It's freezing, my scarf feels like a noose, and I'm wearing the damn glitter-bomb sweater Santa cursed me with. Every step I take, the threads itch against my skin like I'm being punished for crimes against Christmas.
Meanwhile, the vampire menace beside me? Dressed like Santa's drug-dealer elf. Glitter boots, candy cane coat, bells jingling with every bounce. He's practically glowing, waving at every living thing.
"Merry Christmas, lady with the poodle!! Merry Christmas, hotdog man!! MERRY CHRISTMAS RACCOON chasing the ice cream kid, look at him go!!"
I want to melt into the sidewalk. Do werewolves die of second-hand embarrassment? Asking for myself.
Can some spare me some Silver Bullets I wanna shoot myself!!
"Vamps," I mutter, tugging my scarf higher, "can you not-"
"Puppers, look!! The world loves me!!" He twirls, bells jingling. Strangers are staring. I pray for spontaneous combustion.
---
Of course, he spots the frozen pond. Of course.
"ICE SKUTINGGG!" he shrieks like an unholy banshee.
"It's Skating not Shuking you Dumb Bird!!" I wheeze.
"Well if you go that way! Birds are Aves! Me the Bat? I am a flying Mammal!!" He delivers it like some biologists!
"You are a flying Dumbfuck!"
Before I can argue, he's already dragging me over. One second later, chaos. The vampire can't skate to save his unlife. He's flailing, screeching, arms pinwheeling like a drunk windmill.
I grab him before he breaks his face. "For god's sake-stand still!"
"CAN'T!! LEGS BETRAY ME!!" he howls, clinging to me like a barnacle.
Next thing I know, he "accidentally" collapses right onto my chest, spread out dramatically like some tragic ice prince.
I blink down at him. His smirk says it wasn't an accident. My ears twitch. My tail-damn it-my tail flicks out before I can control it. Great. Half the lake probably saw.
"ITS A THEME CHRISTMAS PARTY COSTUME!!!" I am screaming so people don't chase me with buring touch to burn the werewolf!! I am gonna cry now!!
I haul him upright, gripping his hands.
Ok his waist....
Don't judge me how else you would do it!!! *violently blushing*
"Fine. I'll guide you. Stop falling on me before I launch you into the snowbank."
He blushes. I hate how cute it is. Together, we wobble into something resembling skating. Elegant swans? No. More like a drunk wolf dragging a hyperactive Vampire. But his laugh rings against the winter air, and... my chest warms. Then he sneezes right into my face!!
We swril through the snow, like performing some ancient dance of bees around the wild flowers dripping with sweet nectar....
What? I am an arts student, English major, I read too many middle age pathetic authors and poets. I am not poetic!!
---
Next stop: hot chocolate stall.
The gremlin immediately dives face-first into whipped cream. One sip, and his entire face is frosted like Santa's beard.
I groan. "You look like a rabid snowman."
He beams. "Clean me, Puppers!"
I wipe his mouth with my thumb. Mistake. Big mistake. Because now people are watching. Some old lady actually coos. A couple snaps a photo like we're their new OTP.
I growl low in my throat-half bark, half warning-and the humans scatter like pigeons. Good.
Not to mention I lick up the whipped cream off My fingers...what I am not wasting food!!
"Puppers! Rude!!" Lean scolds, licking cocoa foam off his lip. Then he shoves a gingerbread cookie at my mouth. "Say ahhh~"
"I swear-" He doesn't care. Shoves it in anyway. And somehow, it tastes better because it's from him. I am gonna combust if some in the college finds these snaps on insta!
---
Then he drags me to the massive Christmas tree plaza. Lights, carolers, people everywhere.
"PHOTO TIME!!"
"No."
"Yes!!"
Before I can escape, he's yanking me in front of the glowing tree. I end up standing there, scowling, while he grins like the happiest vampire alive. Camera clicks. My arm betrays me-slides around his shoulders protectively. His smugness triples.
Later, while he's distracted with candy canes, I slip off to a stall. Buy matching little party accessories-something stupid but festive. He blinks when I hand it over.
"Wait-where'd you even get money?? Didn't your mom cut you off?"
I scratch my neck, looking away. "...Dad sent me some. For Christmas."
He goes quiet. Too quiet. Then he smiles, soft in a way that hits right in my ribs.
---
Finally, I huffs. "Enough chaos. We're going home before you set the whole town on fire."
He smirks like that disaster girl meme.
It's spooky.
He skips beside me all the way back, jingling bells, humming carols, smug as hell.
Lunch ends up being bubble tea for him (obviously) and a KFC bucket we devour together. By the time we're sitting there, grease on my fingers, chocolate pearls stuck in his teeth, I realize something terrifying.
Christmas morning was bad enough. But Christmas afternoon with him?
...was kinda perfect.
đ§ââď¸ Lean's POV:
Okay. So. Christmas morning? A success.
Christmas afternoon? Oh, baby, it's about to be my personal Broadway show.
I burst out the door looking like a candy cane had a fabulous love child with a disco ball. Red glitter boots? Check. Coat that jingles like Santa's sleigh on caffeine? Double check. And next to me-there's Dom. Poor, grumpy, sweater-suffering Dom. My wolf looks like he's serving "kid forced into Christmas photo by his mom" realness.
The scarf is strangling him. His expression says "kill me." I, of course, find this adorable.
"Merry Christmas, lady with the poodle!! Merry Christmas, hotdog man!! MERRY CHRISTMAS RACCOON chasing the ice cream kid..."
Puppers looks ready to dig a grave and lie in it.
"Vamps," he grumbles through his scarf, "can you not-"
"Puppers, look!! The world loves me!!" I twirl dramatically. Bells jingling, coat flaring, strangers smiling. Gurl I live for this. He looks like he's rethinking every life decision that led him here.
---
And then I see it.
The pond. The frozen wonderland. The destiny calling my name. I am gonna be Elsa!
"ICE SKUTINGGG!!!" I announce to all living creatures within a five-mile radius.
"It's skating, you dumb bird!!" he wheezes.
"Birds are aves, Puppers! I'm a flying mammal!" Satan how come he not know basic biology?
"You're a flying dumbfuck!"
Oh, the Spicy romance. Shakespeare could never.
Before he can stop me, I'm on the ice. Bad idea. My legs betray me immediately. I am a flailing, chaotic noodle in vampire form. My wings where are they.
He catches me-growling, strong arms steadying me, face all red. His eyes dart down. His ears twitch. And then-tail. Oh yes. His tail pops out like boop, surprise!
I scream. He screams.
"IT'S A THEME COSTUME!!" he yells at the humans staring. I'm dying. Tears streaming. "Sure, Puppers," I whisper, "sure."
Then he grips my hands-warm, rough, trembling just slightly.
"Fine," he mutters. "I'll guide you. Stop falling on me before I launch you into the snowbank."
He says that. But his hands stay tight on mine. His cheeks stay pink.
Then my waist! Ok...ok...I am raised! I am done!!! I am gonna combust!!!!!!!!
And when we start skating-well, more like surviving-I swear time slows down. The world blurs, the snow glows, and I can feel his heartbeat through our gloves.
Then I sneeze. Directly. Into his face.
Romance is alive and well, folks.
Ok he tried to bite me!
---
After we somehow survive the ice apocalypse, we hit the cocoa stall. Heaven in a cup. I drown my sorrows in whipped cream. And I might have... accidentally created a Santa beard on my face.
Dom looks at me like I'm an alien. "You look like a rabid snowman."
"Clean me, Puppers!"
He sighs. Wipes my mouth. Thumb grazing my lip. Oh. Suddenly my entire nervous system short-circuits. And then he licks the whipped cream off his own finger.
My brain: ERROR 404. Vampire.exe crashed.
My heart: "We are going to marry him."
I shove a gingerbread cookie at his mouth to hide my fluster. "Say ahhh~"
He glares. I grin. The cookie wins.
---
Then-Christmas Tree Plaza.
I demand a photo. He refuses. Naturally, I drag him in anyway.
The photo ends up perfect: me smiling like sunshine, him scowling like thunder-but his arm's around me, protective, instinctive, warm. I don't mention it, but I feel it long after.
While I'm distracted, he sneaks away. Comes back with a small gift bag.
"Matching accessories," he mumbles, awkward.
I blink. "Wait-how did you even pay for that? Didn't your mom-"
He looks away. "Dad sent me money. For Christmas."
Oh.
For a second, I don't joke. I just... smile. Quietly. "He did good, Puppers."
He snorts, trying to hide how soft he looks. I could kiss that nose. (I don't. Yet.)
---
By the time we're heading home, he's muttering about chaos and fires, but I can feel how relaxed he is. His steps are lighter. His eyes aren't so tired.
We get bubble tea and KFC, like some weird sitcom couple. He devours the chicken, I stab pearls through my straw and giggle.
He stares at me like I'm the strangest, most infuriating thing alive.
And yet-he doesn't look away.
Christmas morning gave me a grumpy wolf in a bad sweater.
Christmas afternoon?
It gave me the best memory I've ever had.
And tonight...?
Heh. Tonight's Christmas night.
And I've got plans for the party!!. đđ
Ok truth to be told, I have no idea about the Party or it's host.
He just told me....he will be taking me with him.
---