Izzie Stevens. *

You woke up to the faint sound of Mariah Carey's "All I Want for Christmas Is You" blaring in the living room. At first, you thought you were dreaming—no one was feeling this festive this early.

Except Izzie Stevens.

You shuffled out, bleary-eyed, and paused in the doorway. The apartment felt like it was bursting with Christmas cheer. Wreaths hung from every surface. A crooked little tree glittered in the corner. And there, standing on the coffee table in fuzzy reindeer socks, was Izzie.

"Good morning!" She beamed, mid-dance, holding a cup with "Santa's Favorite" scrawled on it in glitter. "Guess who made peppermint pancakes?"

"You?" you croaked, your voice still hoarse from sleep.

"With crushed candy canes in the dough!"

You rubbed your eyes. "It's December 3rd."

Exactly! We have to start off strong. We're going to have a party to decorate the tree, build a gingerbread house, and watch every cheesy Hallmark movie in existence...

You walked over and hugged her waist mid-conversation, pulling her down from the table. She squealed in surprise and settled against your chest, warm and soft, still vibrating with the energy of a sugar rush.

Can I have some coffee first? you murmured, resting your forehead against his.

He laughed, giving you a kiss on the cheek. Okay. But only if you wear the ugly sweater I lent you.

You groaned. The one with Santa surfing?

Lights up.

You sighed dramatically. Just because I love you.

Izzie lit up brighter than the tree. I knew you'd say that. Now hurry. We have to conquer Christmas.

• And despite yourself, you smiled. Loud, chaotic, glitter-filled mornings weren't your thing, but Izzie's joy? Now that was magic.

Idk