[starting this off which a good old cliché Christmas story, inspired by a prompt I found at paperbooks in Instagram (⬆️). If you read the prompt above it will contain some spoilers, obviously, but it's your choice.]

"Wake up!" My brother called from outside of my bedroom door, banging against it a few more times for good measure.

"Alright!" I groaned back, but smiled once I remembered why he thought that waking me up at an ungodly hour of the morning was a good idea.

"Merry Christmas!" I added, but I had already heard his feet thunder down the staircase.

I gave myself a moment or so longer to fully wake up, sitting up and stretching with a loud yawn, before reaching over the edge of the bed for my fluffy dressing gown. It was red, to match the tartan pajama set my mother had gotten me this year (it's a family tradition - a new set of pajamas for Christmas Eve every year - that meant I basically only had Christmas-themed pajamas all throughout my childhood. I had then convinced my parents to get festive but I-could-wear-this-throughout-the-year colors and patterns instead), and it reached almost down to my ankles. With a heavy, content sigh I had left the room, sparing a glance at my unmade bed before deciding 'screw it, it's Christmas morning; It might as well be international make-a-mess day'.

Oh if only I had known what sight would have greeted me from beneath the tree I might have considered heading into the bathroom to freshen up first. But no, I walked downstairs without a care in the world for my appearance because I could always get a hold of Mom's phone and delete the pictures in which I looked particularly dead, like I do every year whilst she plates dinner. If only I had known what was at the bottom of the steps...

"Oh good, your finally awake." She said in place of a greeting, and I froze on the staircase, one foot on the step below the other. There, beneath the tree - or, maybe beside would be a better description - was a face I not only recognized, but one which I never imagined I'd see in my house, on Christmas morning; never in a million years. It was the face of the woman I'd been shamelessly, and very openly, crushing on for a long ass time; It was just a harmless celebrity crush, after all. Apparently not, because there she sat cross-legged on the floor, dressed in a pajama set similar to mine, with a red bow perched on the left side of her forehead, sat Lauren. Fricking. Jauregui.

And that's how I found myself desperately trying to fix my hair, my feet still refusing to move from where they have rooted themselves to the staircase.

"No, no you're hair looks fine." She chuckles, and I feel myself blush furiously as she diverts her green-eyes gaze to the floor whilst she tries to unstick the bow from her head. After a few attempts, it's in her hands and her eyes have snapped back onto mine.

There's a moment of silence- no, more than a moment. There was a long pause of any type of sound or movement, apart from that of our eyes as they dance across one another; mine to ensure she's real and her to, well, probably to accustom herself to the creep whose family had somehow gotten her to visit them for Christmas. I wonder how much they'd payed her. It must've been a hell of a lot. I didn't even know we had that kind of money.

"I like your pajamas." She comments, raising a brow as I look back at her eyes.

"Th-thanks." I stutter, and my cheeks turned an even more-furious shade of crimson, "I, uh..." Crap! Hey mouth, now would be a great time to start working normally. "I like your face." I mutter.

But she hears it, and she scrunches her nose as she giggles, and it's even cuter in real life, and I'm close to passing out when someone clears their throat from the sofa.

"Merry Christmas, y/n." My brother rolls his eyes from where he sits at in the living room. My parents sit beside him, mugs of coffee in their hands as she smile warmly at me.

"Hi." I mumble, before finally coming back to my senses, "Hi! Oh, Merry Christmas!"

My family laughs, probably at the way I've been behaving this whole time, and my feet decided this would be the perfect moment to make me trip down the stairs.

Thanks a lot. I think as I pick myself up from the floor, accepting the hand that had reached down to help me up only to realize, once I was back to standing, that it is hers. I am face to face with the woman I'd seen only through a screen, and she was breathtaking.

"I like your face, too." She whispers in my ear, making it look like she was just pulling me into a hug. Then she does hug me, and I'm pretty sure that's when I swooned.

...

Well, that was the start of this Imagines book. Let me know what you think, and should I do a part II?

Also check out my Camila Cabello Imagines and Oneshots book!

Love you all,

- M. x