#Gingerbread Christmas Humor

[noisycowboyglitter]

"Everything Fine" Funny Christmas Gingerbread: A Unique Holiday Tradition

Everything's Fine: A Gingerbread Crisis

Who says gingerbread men are always cheerful? Our "Everything's Fine" gingerbread collection flips the script on the classic holiday treat. With a mischievous grin and a hint of panic, our gingerbread characters perfectly capture the chaotic spirit of the holiday season.

Buy now:19.95$

Imagine a gingerbread man clutching his head in despair, surrounded by a crumbling gingerbread house. Or perhaps a gingerbread woman with a "Keep Calm and Eat Gingerbread" apron, trying to maintain composure amidst the sugar-induced frenzy. These designs are the perfect blend of humor and holiday charm.

Whether you're a fan of dark humor or simply looking for a unique and quirky Christmas gift, our "Everything's Fine" gingerbread collection is sure to delight. Share the laughter with friends and family as you embrace the absurdity of the holidays.

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So, the next time you're feeling overwhelmed by the holiday hustle and bustle, remember our gingerbread friends and know that you're not alone. After all, "everything's fine" is just a matter of perspective!

Cute Christmas Gifts: Spread Joy and Warmth

Looking to spread some extra cheer this Christmas? Cute gifts are the perfect way to brighten someone’s day. Whether you're shopping for a friend, family member, or a special someone, there's a delightful option out there.  

Buy now

From adorable plush toys and cuddly blankets to charming home decor and whimsical accessories, the possibilities are endless. Consider personalized gifts like custom mugs, jewelry, or photo albums to add a touch of heartfelt sentiment. For the sweet tooth, indulge in chocolates, candies, or baked goods adorned with festive designs.

Don't forget about the power of small gestures. Cute stocking stuffers can be just as meaningful as larger presents. Think about mini-sized skincare products, fun stationery, or quirky gadgets.

Buy now

Remember, the key to a perfect cute gift is to choose something that reflects the recipient’s personality and brings a smile to their face. Let your imagination run wild and create lasting memories with your adorable gift choices.

Spread the joy with cute and cuddly Christmas gifts!

[scampthecorgi]

On the fifth day of Christmas, my corgi gave to me…

Fiiiiive tiny wreaths!

Four frosted windows,

Three hungry helpers,

Two bags of icing,

And a gingerbread house to decorate!

[what-marsha-eats]

[lithiumseven]

POV: fighting for your life trying to stick the walls of a gingerbread house together

[jepergola]

https://theskewedlife.blogspot.com

New story today: "The Fall From Summer"

[clown-license-distributor]

Imagine if all the cookies that we give to Santa was caused by a myth caused by like 19th century capitalists trying to kill him with heart disease because they didn't like him and he was like "my Christmas magic is unclogged arteries" and continued girlbossing every Christmas eve anyways

[jamilynfx]

Do You Wanna Build a Snowman? (No, the fuck, I don't)

This is part 2 of this post 💖

Summary: Winter has come to New York and that means only two things: being cold and putting up with Wade's obsession with the movie Frozen.

Pairings: Logan Howlett x Wade Wilson x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.6K

Warnings: sexual humor, mentions of oral sex, referenced drug use

Winter. 

A time for singing carols, decorating a Christmas tree and eating unhealthy amounts of gingerbread. For some, an ideal season for various, cold-oriented activities that include skiing, snowball fighting or drinking hot chocolate right after ice-skating on the overpriced ice-rinks in the city center. 

You hate it all passionately.

Well, maybe decorating a Christmas tree is somewhat enjoyable and worth looking forward to but other activities that require being outside during winter are a hard no for you. 

Which brings you to the problem you encounter every other time that the weather decides it’s high time to spawn tons of snow in the city, or, more accurately, a problem with Wade’s obsession over that godforsaken children’s movie.

“Do you wanna build a snooooowmaaan?! COME ON, LET’S GO AND PLAY.”

Logan growls for, what seems to be, the hundredth time in an hour. Al looks defeated and only Laura completely ignores Wade’s crazy bouncing and twirling in favor of cutting out a perfect circle out of the cookie dough.

“Shut the fuck up, bub. No one wants to build a snowman with you,” Logan grumbles lowly, getting the volume all the way up on the TV, since it’s difficult to hear anything through Wade’s singing. 

Laura makes a face. 

“Ouch, that was a bit harsh, even for you.” 

“Sorry if I’ve had enough of this performance that’s going on for two hours now!” he exclaims heatedly but without real irritation behind it. That’s his way of saying that Wade really got on his nerves and he’s almost reached his daily limit for Wade’s bullshit.

“It’s fine, Lo, don’t shout,” you say with love, cutting out your own shape in a dough, a crooked star with rough, uneven edges. Making cookies is something that you enjoy doing, mostly because it’s all done inside the house, not outside, where all hell breaks loose. “Why don’t you go by yourself, Wade?” 

He looks kinda cute with Elsa’s costume he’s thrown on his suit and a plastic tiara set atop a blond wig he’s stitched to his head but hearing the same song being performed over and over again starts to tug on your nerves, too, especially when you know Wade is completely serious in saying he wants to build a snowman.      

“Because it’s BOOOORING! I would ask Al, but, well, she can’t fucking see, can you imagine what the snowman would look like if I did that with her? A fucking carrot up his ass, that’s what would happen! And the only snow she likes ain’t the one outside, hot pups.”

Al, sitting beside Logan on the couch, sighs loudly and nudges Logan’s side with her elbow. 

“What’s on now?”

“Hot pups?” you question, raising your brows and smiling at Laura, who tries not to laugh.

“That’s new,” Logan comments on a nickname that Wade’s just made up, simultaneously switching between the channels. “A western, soap opera or reality…”

“Reality!” Both Al and Laura are unanimous on this one. Logan changes the channel to trash reality tv without any protest.

“Exactly, hot pups or baby girl, that’s basically the same thing. Anyway, I’m not asking Laura because she’s our guest and I for sure won’t ask peanut, don’t wanna end up with that claws up my ass today. Something else would be fine, tho.” Wade winks to Logan who only rolls his eyes, not once looking in Wade’s direction. “I was gonna ask you but you hate winter activities, besides that one time when you sucked my dick in the park after we went to a Jonas Brothers concert.”

You almost get a whiplash from the way your head turns to look at him, your cheeks immediately turning a deep shade of red. 

“Wade!”  

Althea looks visibly disgusted, Laura blinks a few times muttering damn under her breath and Logan stares at you with and you haven’t done that to me? look on his face. You stifle an urge to run to the bathroom and not come out for the rest of the evening, covering your face with your hands.

“Motherfucker, I wish I was deaf,” Al laments out loud with Wade’s sick laughter as her background before he starts do you wanna build a snowman all over again. 

“Someone has to go out and build that damn snowman with him, I can’t hear a fucking thing!” Logan shouts abuse, his patience running thin judging by the way his claws unsheathe in his left hand. 

“Rock, paper, scissors?” Laura suggests good-naturedly for you to only whine in surrender. That’s enough chaos for this evening.  

“No, I’ll go with him,” you sigh with exasperation and get up to go get dressed. “But you’re soooo going down on me after this, Wade!” 

As soon as the sentence leaves your mouth, Wade squeaks excitedly, running to get his brand-new Frozen mittens, which he managed to yank out of a little girl’s hands while you were at the thrift store last week. 

“You got it, baby girl!” he exclaims and high-fives Laura on his way out, not waiting for you to catch up. You can only hear his do you wanna build a snowman while he hurries down the stairs of your compound.

Al, Laura and Logan all seem to breathe out in relief, focusing all their attention on the TV show that’s currently on. 

Even Mary doesn’t perk up from Logan’s lap and you can’t help but feel a little bit betrayed. 

______________

You have to admit, it’s not all that bad.

Wade does everything in his power to make it enjoyable for you, despite the low temperature and cold wind that blows in your face every other minute. There’s a lot of snow outside which makes for a really long snowman-building session, turning Wade into a literal five year old, but he still manages to make you laugh multiple times. You can’t really be cross with him when he’s having such a good time and, after your initial reluctance, you find yourself having a great time, too. 

The snowman turns out really cute and quite big, three sizable balls of snow each atop of the other, now standing guard in front of the entrance to your building. Somewhere between creating the top ball and sticking branches into the snowman’s sides to imitate arms, Laura comes down and says goodbye, reminding you both how late it is and that you should probably wrap the whole thing up. 

Now, you’re so cold it’s difficult to think straight. Your hands are shaking, teeth clattering and you’re sure that your lips have the color of a ripe plum. 

“We’ve made one hell of a snowman together, baby girl.” 

Your body trembles involuntarily but you smile happily, once again inspecting your work. 

“Yeah, we did.”

Wade hugs you closely and kisses your forehead, then your blue lips. 

“Come on, hot pups, let’s get you back to the warmth.”

Thank god you don’t have to go far. As soon as you’re back in the apartment, you ditch your shoes and outside clothes, which makes you feel even colder than when you were outside. It’s quiet inside, which means that Al is probably already asleep. Wade is somewhere behind you when you find Logan already in bed, Mary snuggled in between his legs, your old man reading a book. 

“All done? How was it?” he asks, setting the book aside and immediately raising the covers for you to join him. 

“COLD! Fuck!” 

You jump on the bed, choosing the quickest way to find yourself in Logan’s warm arms. Mary definitely doesn’t approve, getting her little ass up and pattering towards Wade, who has just entered the room. 

“Fuckin’ A, that’s what our snowman is, peanut,” he says, taking Mary up into his arms, kissing her and then setting her back on the bed to undress properly. Logan gives him a foul look.  

“She’s freezing, you idiot,” he grumbles at Wade, then smiles at you encouragingly. “Come ‘ere, bub,” Logan spurs you on, opening his arms for you and offering his chest to be your private pillow. You gladly accept, letting your body tremble and your teeth clatter as much as they want to while snuggling up in Logan’s embrace, your cold arms finding their way onto his back, your head falling into place half on his shoulder and half on his chest, allowing you to glue the front of your cold body to his heated one. He weaves his fingers into your hair while his other palm comes to rest on your waist, pulling you as close as it’s physically possible. 

Wade follows quickly behind to lock you in between them. When glorious heat starts radiating from both of them, enveloping you on both sides, you sigh contentedly, kissing up Logan’s chest, then finding the best slot for your cheek and straight up fawning on Logan.  

“I still want that head, asshole,” you mumble already half-asleep, feeling Wade’s hands roam over your legs and belly when he’s aligning himself with your back, covering your body with his and slowly heating you up from behind, making you melt against him. He throws his arm over your body to reach Logan, who growls warningly. 

“One day, I’m biting it off, you fucker.”

“Yeah, do it, it’s gonna grow back anyway, Wolvie,” Wade says mockingly, then trails the kisses behind your ear. “I’ll wake you up with it, snookums. Deal?” he asks, his low tone is making you shiver but this time it’s not out of cold. 

You smile dreamily, pressing your butt into his hips.

“Deal.”

[wordsarelife]

harry potter masterlist

fluff (f), angst (a), suggestive (s), platonic (p), wound (w), humor (c)

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❛ 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢’𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 ❜

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𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐨 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 (20.6k)

this love (0.5k) — mattheo finally asks you to be his girlfriend (f, s)

willow (0.8k) — mattheo has a brilliant date idea.. not (s)

the game (3.5k) — after a night with you mattheo can’t get you out of his head, sadly you don’t like him like that (s, a, f)

merry christmas (1.2k) — two times you surprised mattheo with a cute ‘tradition’ and the one time he surprised you (f)

christmas love (2.3k) — it was no secret that mattheo riddle annoyed the hell out of you, but you did grow concerned when you suddenly didn’t mind it anymore (f, s)

winter wonderland (0.5k) — you drag mattheo outside to build a snowman with you (f)

white christmas (0.5k) — mattheo is sad and you cheer him up (f,a)

starlight (2.1k) — mattheo had been liking you for years and when you loose your cat, it's finally his time to prove how good of a boyfriend he would be (f)

gorgeous (3k) — being in love with your best friend might be a bad idea, but drowning your sorrows in alcohol might be your worst one yet (s,f)

endgame (3.7k) — mattheo is absolutely in love with you, but now it seems like he spent a bit too long not telling you that (s,f,c)

we are never ever getting back together (0.6k) — you’re a swiftie, mattheo isn’t (f,c)

you’re not sorry (1.4k)— you and mattheo run into each other years after your relationship has ended (p,f,a)

miss americana and the heartbreak prince (0.5k) — headcanons about mattheo dating a foreign exchange student from america (f)

august () — is he really yours when there is someone who could love him better? (a,f)

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𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐭 (30.6k)

i‘m only me when i’m with you (0.3k) — you steal theo‘s clothes and he finds out about it (f)

you are in love (1.4k) — after a lovely visit with umbridge, theo must prove that the words carved into your skin are the opposite of the truth (a,f,w)

call it what you want (0.7k) — in a school full of people treating them like celebrities, y/n and theo try to keep their relationship private (f)

-> there will be more following the couple -> feel free to request

we wish you a merry christmas (0.6k) — theo meets your family for the first time during christmas (f)

a nonsense christmas (0.8k) — you and theo are only friends.. right? (f,s)

jingle bells (0.8k) — you and theo bake gingerbread cookies for christmas (f)

karma (2.8k) — karma is the way you wear his jersey, making sure his teams will lose the game (s,f,w)

forever winter (1.9k) — theo pulls away from you and you’re worried about his well being (f,a)

so high school (3.8k) — he knows how to ball, you know aristotle and your friends know you’re a perfect match (f,c)

superman (2.7k) — theo won’t leave you alone after you broke your leg, you’re not sure you appreciate it that much (f,c)

bigger than the whole sky (1.6k) — you get bad news and theo is conflicted about it being his fault (a,f)

long story short (2.3k) — you survived a violent person before, knowing well enough that you wouldn’t ever tolerate going through that again (a,w,f)

the black dog (4.4k) — the war awakes something in theo you hadn't thought was even there. you battle with your feelings of heartbreak, while you try to forget his everlasting presence in your life. (a,w)

twenty-two (1k) — you try to make theo a swiftie (and succeed). (f,c)

mine (5.5k) — theo’s and your relationship throughout the years (f,a,w,c)

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𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐟𝐨𝐲 (5.2k)

it’s the most wonderful time of the year (0.5k) — draco and you spent the best christmas together (f,a)

timeless (3k) — draco malfoy wouldn’t have thought to come across you in a dark magic shop or how eager he would be to marry you (f,a)

anti-hero (1.7k) — you hate that you’re so emotional about everything, but draco secretly loves you for it (f,a)

style () — draco and you come always back to each other, until you can’t bare to keep it a secret any longer (f,a,s)

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groups (2.2k)

feliz navidad (0.6k) — the reader, who is obsessed with christmas wants to do something her friends aren't particularly happy about (f,p) //slytherin!group x reader

what christmas means to me (1.2k) — when you don't turn up for breakfast one morning, your friends go on a scavenger hunt to find you (f,p,a) //slytherin group x reader

happy xmas (0.4k) — you spend christmas in hogwarts, with your best friends (f,p) //marauders x reader

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series

don't blame me — theo nott x fem!reader

-> theo is the lead singer of the band cursed legacy and also the one who you hate most in the world. easy enough right? things only get complicated when theo puts out a rude song about you, the band starts to rise to fame and one single accident might ruin everything they worked for so hard. eventually theo is forced to ask for your help, but you wouldn’t be you if you would say yes without a very important rule: theo can’t play his most famous song: the one he wrote about you.

wordcount: 8 parts (32k)

no body no crime — theo nott x fem!potter!reader

-> hogwarts murder mystery (coming soon !)

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44 works

[disarraydoodlez]

Christmas List Erased Day 17: Gingerbread Construction worker Howie! Ngl, I'd love a 3 hour audio track of Howie detailing how to build a gingerbread house, cycling between citing baking steps like safety laws and yelling at people off-screen.

Like I'd prolly pay money for Justice saying things like:

"Alright, now that everyone has there necessary safety equipment, each of you are gonna have to follow my orders explicitly. We ran out of all the white frosting after that stinkin' kid ran in her and drank it all, so we're only left with yellow. Now I know in that context this may be seen as humorous, but we're being paid to build, not laugh. Trixie, your gonna hand me building materials as I plaster the walls together. Molly, I need you to make sure everything is level, because if even a crumb is outta place then this all might come out of our materials budget. Pheonica, you shoul- ..... a... are you EATIN' all our SUPPORT BEAMS?!?....... Trixie, I'm going to need a few drainage rocks"

Trixie: "Your mean the Coco puffs or the Fruity pebbles?"

Howie: "Hand me the PEBBLES"

[mangoshorthand]

Twelve Feet Away from the Mistletoe - Part 2 | Five Hargreeves / F Reader (Angst/Fluff) Words 3k

Requested by @fiannee. I managed to stop myself writing smut through the simple expedient of fading to black. #personalgrowth

<< Read Part 1

On Christmas Eve, he opened the front door looking a million dollars. He stood straight and authoritative in what must have been his best suit. Its clean lines skimmed and accentuated the breadth of his shoulders, his trim waist, and the shape of his legs.

You stared, dumbstruck for a moment, snow settling on the shoulders of your coat. 

Five looked like he’d been dressed by Gianni Versace himself, and you were standing in out in the snow wearing a lumpy sweater featuring candy cane striped arms and a horrified looking gingerbread man with a huge bite out of his head.

“Nice sweater,” he said, apparently too distracted by the small glimpse not obscured by your coat to say anything else.

“Thanks,” you said, embarrassed. 

You looked up at him for a second, there on the Academy steps, laden down by a large bag of Christmas gifts in your hand and a bag of clothes on your back, the cold air at your back rushing into the warmth of the entrance hall. You were suddenly unsure how to proceed. He was smiling welcome, but there was still a moment of uncertainty. 

You’d had no contact with him since that night. How to greet him after what happened? A handshake? A hug? Surely a kiss was too - 

But Five stepped back from the door and gestured you through it. 

“Come in,” he said, “we’re about to order Chinese food.”

“Sounds good,” you said, smiling awkwardly as you maneuvered your lumpy bag of gifts through the door. 

You stood in front of him for a second or so, waiting for the hug or handshake or whatever, but it never came. Instead, he closed the door behind you and went to lead you into the living room where signs of movement made it clear that his siblings sat. 

You hesitated, and it made him notice your bag of gifts for the first time. He looked curiously down into the bag. 

“Are these for-?”

“Just some gifts for you all,” you said, waving a hand to disclaim their importance. “I was just going to go dump them in the room I’m sleeping in and then-”

“Sure, sure,” he nodded towards the stairs, “you go do that. It’s the same one as last time,” he finished, answering your unarticulated question.

***

Alone in the spare room you’d been sleeping in last time you stayed, you looked in the full length mirror. 

With Five looking like he’d fallen from heaven, the sweater suddenly felt like a bad move. Why did you always have to hide behind a veneer of childish humor? Why, when you came here hoping to be swept off your feet, did you dress like an idiot? 

Ever since that kiss, he’d polluted your thoughts. Memories of the sensation of his lips on yours and the occasional touch of his tongue had always been followed by whether you should try to see him before christmas, whether to buy him a gift and exactly how you should pitch that gift. You’d agonized over it until you bought everyone a gift just so that buying him one wouldn’t stand out too much. 

All in all, the last couple of weeks had been a mess of doubt and nerves. 

Mentally shaking yourself, you pushed these thoughts aside. You kissed under the mistletoe once: it was hardly grounds to expect romance. Maybe his invitation to come for Christmas had been friendly, and the kiss was just a bit of fun in the moment. There was mild mutual attraction and there was mistletoe, but outside that little bit of holiday mischief, you were just his brother’s friend.

Fuck it. You liked this sweater and you weren’t going to change it for a man. And you’d be damned if you let yourself get hung up on a man this fickle. Squaring your shoulders, you left the bedroom.

***

“I thought I heard your voice.”

Viktor’s smile from one of the armchairs was one of welcome, but surprise. Luther, Sloane, Klaus, Diego and Lila were watching you too, looking welcoming themselves but oddly expectant somehow. Five was nowhere to be found.

You felt the enquiry in their looks. 

“Uh - am I early? Five said Christmas Eve but he didn’t say when.”

“Huh?” Diego said, uncomprehending. Their eyes on you felt uncomfortable.

“H-he told me to come over on Christmas Eve and stay a couple of nights. Did he not tell-?”

“Wait:” Lila said, loudly, “you’re telling us Five invited you for Christmas?”

“Yes,” you all but whispered, heat rising to your cheeks, “did he not tell you?”

“First I’m hearing of it.” Lila said, amused, “The sly old git.”

Putting two and two together, Viktor stepped in to cover your feeling of intruding on them.

“Sorry, I forgot to mention it to you guys. We invited her to come before she moved into her new place.”

“No problem here,” Klaus said, shrugging and throwing his sequined ankle boots up onto the table, “nice to have a different face to look at.”

After the other inhabitants of the room made sounds of agreement, or stated their welcome, you took a place beside Viktor.

When a bottle of champagne had been popped and poured by Sloane and quiet chat reestablished, Viktor leaned towards you.

“So are you and he-?”

“No.” you said, hurriedly, as a wiggle of Viktor’s eyebrows suggested what you and Five might be up to, “He didn’t really tell you he invited me, did he?”

“No,” he sniggered, But seriously - what’s going on? When did he ask?”

“My last night here,” you began, uncertainly, “you were asleep on the couch and -” you cast around for how to explain it, and then promptly chickened out, “- he asked me then.”

Viktor looked as if he knew this was far from the full story, but made no further comment.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here. I’m sorry I didn’t ask you. I should have done.”

You shook your head to indicate that his apology was unnecessary, but were too preoccupied with one question to do more.

“Where did Five go, anyway?”

“Beats me.” Viktor shrugged. “We were about to order dinner but he disappeared.”

Disappeared?” you repeated, surprised into speaking more loudly than you intended. 

This attracted the attention of Klaus, who watched you with interest from over his champagne glass.

Don’t get hung up on him. Don’t. 

“Yeah,” Viktor said, clearly as confused as you, “he blinked away.” 

“And we were just about to order food,” Klaus said, airily, “let’s give him fifteen and if he doesn’t come back, we order without him.”

You gave him an hour. And then you did order without him. And, by the time the meal came, he still wasn’t back. And, another two hours later, the portion of satay and fried rice Viktor had ordered for him was still sitting on the coffee table, completely cold.

You tried not to let it get to you. You tried not to let yourself dwell. You remembered the sensible conclusion you’d come to in your third-floor bedroom but still, a mixture of confusion, hurt and irritation began to fight for the upper hand in your feelings. 

Even as you enjoyed the company of his siblings, joined in with their banter and laughed at their jokes, half your mind was engaged battling over their brother. 

What had you done to make him leave like this? Why invite you over at all if he clearly didn’t want to spend time with you?  Did he take one look at you and regret that kiss? Did you spend days agonizing about whether you should buy him that gift just for him to make other plans as soon as you arrived?

Fuck him. And fuck his mixed signals too.

You looked up at the felt mistletoe above the fireplace. Cheap and fake, just like that kiss apparently.

As the evening wore on, the snow got heavier and heavier outside, until snowflakes were falling in thick, heavy clumps past the windows, melting into slush as they came into contact with damp, dirty sidewalks and tarmac laid with grit.

And Five’s meal was still left uneaten, even when Luther began to campaign hard to get everyone to watch The Muppet Christmas Carol. 

“Five would agree with me,” Luther said, earnestly, “he loved it when we were kids.”

“Only because it was the only Christmas video tape we had.” Viktor replied.

“And he was six years old,” Deigo interjected, “you’re the only one who hasn’t matured since then.”

“You guys are grinches,” Luther said, sulkily. And then, face changing to curiosity as soon as the thought occurred: “where the hell is Five, anyway?”

“Search me,” Viktor replied. 

“Should we be worried?” you asked, as Luther lost interest and continued to extol the Muppets’ many adaptational virtues.

“Nah,” Klaus said, “I’m more worried for the folks wherever he is.”

“Does he do this often?” you pressed.

“Oh yes. Cinco’s a little...unpredictable. Probably wanted to avoid being sociable. Probably couldn’t face Luther’s whining about this shitty movie.”

Pleading tiredness, you headed to bed before the movie began, Luther cross-legged in front of the TV accompanied by an equally excited Lila. As you bade them all goodnight, Viktor watched you with a look of mild concern. 

“See you in the morning,” you said, trying to smile at him and put his mind at ease, but unsure if you were successful given that your brain had been a mush of rage and recriminations for the last four hours at least.

His sympathetic smile back was slightly too knowing for you to be comfortable.

So much for not getting hung up on him. 

***

Quite how you woke up in Five’s bed the next morning, you would never know. And, as his warmth shifted beside you ahd he whispered a sleepy: “Merry Christmas,” into your ear, you found that you didn’t much care how it happened, only that it did.

It started with you alone in your room, having changed into your pajamas; still hurt, still angry and even angrier at yourself for being so.

How could you let one kiss do this to you? How could you let this man get under your skin? 

Because how could you forget? How could you go back now, knowing the feel of his hair, the feel of his breath feathering across your lips? How could any kiss ever again live up to the one he’d given you so carelessly?

That bastard. That smooth-skinned, perfect-jawed, green-eyed bastard. 

Muffled above your head, came a sound you nevertheless recognised: the static whoosh that signaled one of Five’s blinks. 

So he’d been up in his room all this time? Perhaps using his powers to avoid you?

No. Fuck that noise. 

As if you yourself had blinked there from your bedroom, you found yourself marching up the attic stairs and knocking insistently on his door.

“Yeah?” came his slightly irritated voice from inside.

That tone was like a red rag to a bull already butting against his confines. You thrust the door open and were over the threshold before he could acknowledge you.

“Why did you invite me here?” you demanded.

Clearly, Five’s response to your knock had not meant that it was fine to come in. He stood there in the center of the room, naked from the waist up, a sopping wet shirt falling from his hands onto the floor. 

You felt your face heat up like a whoosh from a gas furnace. You didn’t stare, but the second or so you looked gave you enough of a glimpse of a firm stomach, subtly toned abdominals, and dusk-rose nipples erect in the chill of the attic room. 

“Sorry,” you said, looking briefly down at your feet to give him a chance to dress himself.

“No problem,” he replied, briskly, though making no move to cover himself.

Eventually you looked back up at his face, careful to avoid your eyes lingering elsewhere. 

“Why are you wet?” you asked, as he brushed away a drip of water running down his nose from his drenched, tousled hair. 

“I’ve been out,” he said, as if this were obvious, “It’s snowing. It’s heavy sleet really. Almost rain by now.”

“Where?” you pressed, embarrassment quickly replaced by the irritation you’d come here with “And why did you invite me over just to fuck off all night?”

His lips tightened, shifting in apparent discomfort.

“I needed to run an errand.” he said, after a short pause.

“An errand?” you said, skepticism dripping from every syllable, “Come on. Don't bullshit me.”

“I needed to run an errand.” he repeated, simply and deliberately, “Take it or leave it.”

He raised his eyebrows and folded his arms across his chest in a way that made the veins and muscle definition of his forearms look borderline pornographic. It was just like this asshole, to look so infuriatingly sexy when you were trying to yell at him.

You let out an angry huff of breath through your nostrils.

“Why did you invite me tonight?” you asked, again, more insistently this time.

“Because I wanted to see you for Christmas!” he said, frustratedly, as if this were obvious, “I wanted to see if you and I were going anywhere!”

“What?” you yelped, wrongfooted and jolted unexpectedly out of anger.

He stepped towards you.

“We kissed. I wanted to see if -” he gestured frustratedly between you, as if to indicate a connection in question, “-And when you turned up tonight, with all those gifts, I had to…”

His face worked, chewing his lips.

“I had to buy you a gift too.” he said, reluctantly.

You blinked, and he continued.

“Ever since that night, I’ve been thinking it over. Whether I should get you a gift and show you I’m serious about us trying something together, but I decided not to in case it scared you off. And then, tonight, when I saw a gift to me in your bag, I…”

He tailed off.

You let out a single breath: half laugh and half sigh. You could feel yourself trembling as you smiled at him.

“Viktor and I don’t usually do gifts,” you said, softly. 

He looked confused at this apparent non sequitur, but his eyes crinkled into a smile as you continued, “I only got gifts for him and the others to make it look less weird to get you one. I didn’t want to scare you off.”

A breathy laugh escaped his perfect lips.

“So what have we learned?” he asked, expectantly.

“That we’re both weird and intense?”

“Correct,” he nodded, taking another step forward, and tilting his head insolently. “but it also shows that neither of us scare easy.”

He was effortlessly, devastatingly sexy. 

You took a step towards him in turn. 

“So we can be as weird and intense as we want to be?”

Your voice came out husky, now no more than a foot away from his perfect, half-naked form. 

“Exactly,” he whispered. 

And, leaning forward, he closed the door behind you with a decisive click.

Your mouth was on his before he could react. The whole world was his lips, his warm breath and the smell of his damp skin. Your hands sprang to his freezing torso, feeling gooseflesh as well as muscle beneath your fingers.

“You’re so cold,” you breathed, breaking the kiss.

“Then warm me up,” he growled, a wolfish version of his cocky, know-it-all smile curling his lips.

And you would have obliged him: you would have rushed him and ravished him. You would have pulled his hair and pushed him roughly onto his own bed…

Except he got there first. His nose crashed into yours, resuming the kiss roughly. Groaning low in his throat as you responded in kind. 

All the restraint you’d sensed in his kiss beneath the mistletoe had clearly been abandoned, because now was all teeth, tongue and roaming hands as he steered you towards the bed. 

***

You rolled over, a blissful smile on your face, and came to rest on Five’s shoulder. 

“Happy Christmas,” you replied to his whispered greeting. 

He leaned in for a kiss, a loving one this time, and then sat up in bed. He leaned over to reach for his abandoned, soaked jacket of the previous evening, rummaging around in it on the floor, inelegantly stretched across the rug, half in and half out of bed.

“What are you-”

“There we go,” he said, locating whatever he’d been searching for. He heaved himself back on the bed, a small black box in hand.

“It’s your Christmas gift,” he said, matter-of-factly, “It’s Christmas morning. That’s traditionally when you open gifts.”

Your eyes were fixed on the box.

“Oh god, it’s not jewelry is it?”

“Yes,” he said, eyebrows contracting.

You interpreted his expression correctly and tried to assuage his worry.

“No - no, I mean, I like jewelry, it’s just that - oh, give it here.”

You took the box from him and opened it. Inside was a delicate, gold mistletoe pendant hanging off a matching chain. 

“Fuck,” you said, distractedly.

“So…wrong move?” he said, worriedly.

“No. No. It’s beautiful. It’s gorgeous, Five. It’s just that -” you looked up at him, face the picture of agony, I only got you a bottle of scotch!”

He broke into a broad, relieved smile. 

“Which scotch?” he asked, curiously.

“It seems so stupid now," you moaned, mortified, “but I remembered you talking to Klaus about being in Edinburgh in 1988 and drinking -” “Glen Moray 12?” he asked, eyes lighting up. 

“I didn’t even get the right year!” you whined, oblivious to the pleasure that would have been obvious to anyone else,  “I could only get one bottled in 1987.”

He gave an incredulous, pleased chuckle, smile broadening even more.

“That’s perfect. My god, you’ve been hanging off my every word, haven’t you?”

“Shut up,” you muttered, feeling your face heat up as his smile became slightly smug. 

“That’s pretty weird and intense,” he teased.

“No more weird and intense than buying a gold necklace for a girl you kissed once,” you shot back, finally catching his mood and teasing him in turn.

“Touché.” he conceded, and leaned his forehead affectionately against yours, "But is it acceptable now I've kissed you much more than once?"

"Hm," you said, in mock thought, "I'll reserve judgment."

Request masterlist >> HERE

Tag list: (please comment to be added or removed): @thebearmage, @nevbrooke-555, @fiannee, @abeeabee6969

NOTE: I take Five requests, I'm fairly versatile in what I write (fluff, smut, angst, psychological character study- I'll try it all) but I will consider them on a case by case basis. See masterlist for request status and more.

[ursuburbanmother]

I’m On Fire, But I’m Trying Not to Show It || Chapter Three

Pairing: Angus Tully x fem!reader

a/n: Mothers and daughters?? Fathers and sons?!?

Word Count: ~4k

Find: Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

Enjoy!

December 23, 1970

You’ve been stuck in your own mind all day. It's decided to shut down like a panic room and you can see Angus try to crack it open with his attempts at small talk. Mary and Mr. Hunham share uncomfortable glances at each other, slightly humored about the quiet lunch they are having that would usually be filled by chatter from you two.

Angus leans in close to your ear, “You said we would talk today.”

“After this,” you murmur, sinking into the wooden chair.

“If this is about yesterday, it was just a weird moment, it didn’t mean anything.”

“Stop talking,” you say as nicely as you can when you see Mary's eyebrow quirk up at Angus’s comment.

“I have a surprise,” Mr. Hunham suddenly announces. Your eyes snap to him, embracing the distraction. He brings out a platter full of Christmas cookies and places them on the table. “These were a gift to me, and I would like to share them with both of you.”

Angus is unimpressed and by the way he is scowling, he's upset too. “Look at them. Look at all the festive shapes. Snowflakes and gingerbread men. A tree. A little mitten,” Mr. Hunham picks up the red and white frosted cookie and takes a bite. “Mmm,” he looks pleasantly surprised.

“Thank you, Mister. This is really nice,” You reach for the snowflake. You’re not sure how well sloppy joe and sugar will settle in your stomach but you're willing to gamble on it. Mr. Hunham gives you a thin smile.

“May I go to the bathroom, sir?” Angus asks, already pushing away his dish and getting up from his chair.

“You may,” he sighs, watching the boy walk away.

“Well, I’m trying,” he says to the group, defeated.

You give him a weak grin, “These are good cookies though. If that means anything to you.”

Mary chuckles at your exchange. Mr. Hunham gets up and goes the same direction Angus had exited. Your eyes follow him until it is impossible for you to see him without breaking your neck. You turn to Mary who is close to finishing her cigarette. She blows the smoke away from your direction and pushes the packet towards you.

“Want one?”

“Oh. No thanks. That's Angus’s thing.”

“Alright. But don’t go asking for one later.”

“I won’t,” you laugh quietly. You hear voices in the hallway get louder. Angus shouts something you can’t make out and Mr. Hunham's response follows shortly after. Their noise fades away and you rub your tired eyes to snap you awake. You never could get enough sleep. You swear you could sleep for twenty-four hours and still feel groggy.

“What's going on with you two?” Mary asks.

“Angus and I?”

“No. You and the ghost that haunts the infirmary,” she took a sip of her coffee while shaking her head in amusement.

“My mother says I'm a bit of a blabbermouth. I don’t know if you want to hear the details,” you warn.

“Give me the reader's digest,” she pats the seat next to her. Bringing your coca-cola with you, you go cross over to her side of the table. “Okay. Tell me if you think I’m crazy-”

“I will.”

“-But Angus has been acting so weird. One second, he's all moody, a regular Holden Claufield, and the next he’s nice and being the Angus I’ve known all my life. I don’t know… Maybe he’s at the stage where his feelings swing around like a pendulum.”

“That's all-teenagers sweethearts. Even at adulthood, that pendulum never stops swinging. At some point it may slow down only for a gust of wind to return it into motion.”

“I mean he’s always been a little short-tempered, just never towards me. Yesterday,” you wonder if you are getting too personal now, “he called me selfish.”

“Selfish? The girl that just scarfed down a cookie to make an old man feel better.”

You shrug. You never knew how to take compliments. “I know I should just ask him what's really going on, but I don’t want him to blow up on me again.”

“If he does come to me. I’ll whip him into shape for you.”

“Thank you,” you giggle. “What do you think happened out there?” You tilt you heard towards the doors.

“Their usual bickering. That boy is probably paying the price for cursing Hunham out right now.”

“How long have you known Mr. Hunham?”

She paused before answering, “A while now.”

“Has he always been this… strong-willed?”

“Stubborn as a mule you mean? Yes, he has. Although the years have certainly hardened him more.”

“Why’s that?"

“Not sure. He’s a private man. I haven’t been able to pry anything out of him.”

“Not even when he’s,” you make your hand into a fist, extending the pink and thumb. You move it back and forth to mimic drinking from a bottle.

Mary cackles. “Not even then.”

…

The stupidest thing Angus had done was what he had done to you yesterday. He doesn’t know why he said it, why he had called you selfish. It just tumbled out. It was like he was a man possessed. But launching off a springboard in the gym in an act of rebellion was a close second.

He numbed the pain thinking of you. Granted if you were here, you would be lecturing him non-stop and telling him how he should have known better. But at least you would have been here, and he wouldn’t have to watch Mr. Hunham marinate in his misery. At least you would have been there to hold his hand as they popped his arm back into its socket.

Although his mouth had gotten him in trouble the last few days, it had been helpful in getting them out of the hospital insurance issue. And it was about to get him a free burger now too.

They had arrived at the local watering hole. It was jam packed with people getting tipsy with beer. He could hear the clink of billiards and the white noise on the TV.

“I think I’ll start with a beer. How about you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Mr. Tully. Get your cheeseburger.”

“They’ve got Miller High Life. The Champagne of Beers.”

“Oh?” Mr. Hunham said, but Angus could tell he was just trying to amuse him.

Angus shut the menu as their waitress came up the stairs to their little booth. “Okay, you ready to order? Oh!” she gasped as she turned to his teacher.

“Miss Crane,” Hunham touched his chest, “As I live and breathe. What-, what are you doing here?”

“Oh hi guys! Yeah, I always pick up a little extra work over Thanksgiving and Christmas,” Miss Crane explained.

It looked as if Mr. Hunham had been snapped awake, “Well, um, this is Mr. Tully,” he motioned his hand towards him.”

“Sure, I know you and your little girlfriend. You two are always glued together like gum on a pole,” Miss Crane said teasingly.

“Y/n L/n," he beamed, "she goes to the girl's school and we’re just friends. But um, we met outside Dr. Woodrup’s office. I was wrongly accused of blowing up a toilet,” he smiled as innocently as he could.

“I didn’t know about the wrongly part,” she shares a laugh with Hunham.

“He’ll have a cheeseburger,” he orders for Angus.

“And a Miller High Life please,” Angus adds quickly.

“Uh. No you will not,” Hunham says sternly.

“Where do you stand on Miller High Life, Miss Crane?”

“Well, like they say, it’s the Champagne of Beers.”

Angus turns to Hunham, “And she’s a professional.”

“Okay, one cheeseburger,” Miss Crane waits for him to fill the blank.

He relents and orders reluctantly, “And a Coke.”

“I’ll have a cheeseburger as well,” Hunham smiled.

“Two cheeseburgers,” she jots down the order on her notepad

“And a Jim Beam. On the rocks. Please.”

“Okay, you got it guys,” She smiles at them before exiting. Paul watches her go and Angus grins at the scene.

“Ouch. You two have chemistry,” he shakes his hand like he had touched a hot plate.

“Okay. That’s the Percodan talking,” Hunham dismisses.

“I don’t know. Seeing her like this, I think she’s pretty attractive,” he hopes his teacher will take the bait.

“Listen, you hormonal vulgarian, that woman deserves your respect, not your erotic speculation.”

Angus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Well, may I at least go to the bathroom? Sir?”

“You mean the payphone?”

They have a stare off before he runs off to the back of the restaurant. Angus scours any leftover change in his back pocket of his jeans. He finds enough to make a call. He scans the room, making sure that Mr. Hunham isn’t hunting him down like last time. He dials the number to the Barton infirmary and hopes you are lounging in your room.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” he chants under his breath. Instead he gets the dial tone. He curses and slams the phone back to its original place.

…

You haven’t seen Angus since the morning. You've been spending all afternoon with Mary instead. You helped with the lunch dishes and are preparing the potatoes for supper later. Mary had a radio in the kitchen which you happily hummed to. Christmas music flooded your ears and reminded you of the holiday. In the halls of Barton there were no decorations, and one could probably convince a kid that the Grinch had stolen them in the dead of night.

“Mary, I'm done,” you proudly show her the bowl of potatoes. In your house most of the cooking was done by private chefs who came in and out so irregularly that you could never learn their names. Understandably, they didn’t have time to entertain a ten-year-olds insistent questions about what it meant to julienne a vegetable.

“Great. Why don’t you start boiling them and get started on chopping those mushrooms.”

“Okay,” you add water to a pot before adding the chomped potato. You find the mushrooms and cut them as thinly as you can. After you place them on the counter next to Mary who has already prepared everything else.

You admire as she adds them to a pan of melted butter. She drops salt, pepper, Italian dressing and other spices you can’t name, without even having to use measuring tools. “You’re Julia Child!” You praise.

“Just years of practice.”

“Hey, when do I get to sauté and mix things?” You get on your tiptoes to get a better look at the mushrooms turning a dark brown.

“When I know you won’t hurt yourself doing it,” she gave a pointed look at the bandaids on your fingers. You may have cut yourself in your first attempts at handling a knife. You hide the hand behind your back. “Sorry.”

You go to sit in a stool by the oven. You open a borrowed copy of a Kerouac book that Angus had in his suitcase. The Subterraneans, written in three days apparently and no offense to Jack but it shows. Mary notices your squinting as you go try to make sense of the writing, inching your face closer and closer to the paper.

“Are you planning to do something with that? The books.” Mary stops her stirring and lowers the heat of the stove. She walks over to you and glances at pages.

“What? Like with writing?” You ask, “I’m not sure. I know I should have figured it out by now but I just never got one of those woosh moments,” you sway your hands in the air.

“Woosh moment?”

“It's like what we talked about with the pendulum. I feel like I've been hanging still and waiting for the wind to send me on my way. I wait for it to push me with the strength of a tornado. Woosh. Almost to flood me with a feeling of knowing? I’m not the best at words…” you trail off.

“You're telling me nothing interests you?” She raised her eyebrow.

“No, a lot of things do. I want to do everything. Right now, for example, I feel like becoming a renowned chef,” you pick up a random bowl and start stirring it slowly.

“Try learning how to handle a knife right first,” she tuts.

“Practice makes perfect Mary,” you smile and look down into the chocolate substance you were messing with. “Cake or brownies?”

“Neither actually. It's more doughy than liquid honey,” she lectures you kindly.

“Right,” you say sheepishly, “I swear I’m smarter when it comes to other things. You should see me in civics class.”

“I believe you,” she winks, “Now get to preheating the oven, Betty Crocker.”

…

Angus goes off to play a game on the Pinball machine and to take his mind off you. It certainly helps him. Avoiding the prospect of getting beat up by locals and injuring another part of his body allows him to momentarily forget the stress he feels when he remembers how pissed you are at him.

Mr. Hunham and Angus eat their burgers quickly. To repay Mr. Hunham for saving his ass, Angus keeps his mouth shut every time he orders a Jim Beam. They leave after Hunham drops a rather generous tip for Miss Crane.

They're walking towards Hunhams car and Angus can’t resist the urge to ask, “Why’d you buy those guys beer? They’re assholes.”

“That’s one way to look at it. Hey. Catch,” he tosses his keys at Angus, who catches them on instinct.

“How many boys do you know who have had their hands blown off? Barton boys don’t go to Vietnam. No, they go to Yale or Dartmouth or Cornell, whether they deserve to or not."

“Except for Curtis Lamb.”

“Except for Curtis Lamb.”

“Were you ever in the military?” Angus’s curiosity peaked.

“I tried to enlist in ‘41, but was rejected,” Mr. Hunham pointed at his eye, as if to say obviously. He tries to unlock the door of the driver's side to no avail. He points towards Angus,“I have to get in through there. Anyways, they made me an air raid warden. Gave me a whistle and everything. Helmet. Arm band.”

Angus opens the door, handing the keys off as Mr. Hunham slides in. He catches a whiff of Mr. Hunham unmentioned scent.

“Before we get going, can I be candid with you?”

“Mm-hmm,”

“You smell,” he states bluntly and Mr. Hunham deflates. Angus joins him inside the Nova, “Like fish. And it’s really noticeable toward the end of the day. I even smell it on your coat. Mind if I crack the window?”

“Trimethylaminuria.”

“Huh?” Angus frowns.

“Trimethylaminuria. Means my body can’t break down trimethylamine. That’s the smell. And, uh, yes, more toward the end of the day.

“Wow. Your whole life? No wonder you’re afraid of women,” he concludes.

“I am not afraid of women,” Hunham says, clearly offended. “Jesus H. Christ.”

“I shouldn’t have said anything. Dr. Gertler says I don’t always give consideration to my audience,” Angus exhales.

“Who’s Dr. Gertler?’’

“My shrink,” Angus wants to disappear.

“Has Dr. Gertler ever tried a swift kick in the ass?”

Angus figures he ought to level the playing field. “Okay, all right, now your turn. Go ahead, tell me something about me. Something negative.”

“Something negative about you?”

“Sure. Just one thing.

“Just one?”

Angus nods and he probably should be offended that he is taking an awful long time to say anything.

“You’re obtuse about your social relationship.”

“What the hell is that supposed mean?”

“You didn’t say I had to elaborate Mr. Tully.”

“Okay well now I want you to. Spit it out.”

“No,” he backs out of his parking spot and hits the road.

“Come on! Explain,” Angus tugs on Hunhams jacket.

“I hope you don’t plan to pester me all the way to Barton. It'll be an awfully long ride.”

He presses down harder on the gas pedal.

…

You had burned the cookies. Not that you could tell when you took a bite of it. The cocoa had disguised it and you had just finished patting your back when you had to spit the whole thing out into the sink. Mary relishes your misery and apologizes through her laughs, wiping the tears in the corner of her eyes.

So your two-course meal had been reduced to just an entree. After thirty minutes of searching and waiting on Angus and Mr. Hunham, you ladies decided to leave the capacious mess hall and have a TV dinner. If your mother could see you now you were sure she would have you arrested by the etiquette police.

Mary was flipping through the channels to tune in to her daily rewatch of the Newlywed Game. You stopped her suddenly, your hand on top of hers to stop her from operating the remote.

“Cactus Flower! I love this movie. Please can we watch it?” You beg, clasping and shaking your hands together.

“What’s it about?” She asks hesitantly, clearly wary about abandoning her favorite program.

“You’ll love it! Ingrid Berman has to pretend to be her boss's wife because he lied to his lover about being married and having kids and shit-,”

“Language.”

“-Sorry. And so now he has to pull off this big con, so she won’t leave his lying as-, butt,” you correct yourself. “Goldie Hawn is sooo good in this. She won an Oscar I think.”

“I supposed I could give it a try. If it bores me we are switching right back though.”

“Deal,” you giggle and scoot the plate balancing on your lap closer so you can dig in.

For the next hour, Mary seems content in watching the characters in the movie ignore and miscommunicate their feelings. Even shaking her head when they do something she finds ridiculous. Your eyes get heavy as the ending nears, your stomach warm and content with the meal you had and the glare of the television tiring your vision. You lean your head back into the couch cushion and close your eyelids. Distantly you hear Ingrid Berman and Walter Matthau confess their love before your world goes dark.

Slumped against Mary, you wake up for the second time that week by the same hands. Angus is shaking your shoulder gently. Your gaze falls immediately to the sling his arm is in.

“Angus! What the hell?” You whisper- shout, fixing your posture and wiping the potential drool off your face. You check to make sure you didn’t wake up Mary.

“It's okay, it's okay,” he reassures. “It’s not broken, or anything just dislocated.”

“What happened?’’ Your arm trails down from where the sling starts to where his hand hangs lazily out. "Is this why you weren’t at dinner tonight? Hunham too?”

“Uh yeah. I jumped off a springboard in the new gym,” he answers bashfully.

“Wow… you are so stupid sometimes.”

“I prefer spontaneous thank you,” he sits down next to you on the couch and lets out a sigh. Using his good arm, he lifts a plastic bag. “We went out to eat and I got you something.”

“Ooh,” You snatch the bag and open it as quietly as you can without crinkling the plastic. Inside the Styrofoam box there's a half-eaten burger with some cold fries. You snack on it anyway offering some to Angus who shakes his head.

“Mr. Hunham thought buying another would be wasteful. He assumed you and Mary would have probably eaten by then so I saved what I could.”

“We did and,” you motion to the plates, “I helped cook it!”

“Really?” Angus's eyes widened, “I’m sorry I missed it.”

“I saved you some cookies,” You pick up the dish of the burnt dessert. You have brought them over believing you had been exaggerating the taste.

You hadn't.

He takes one, clueless, and bites almost half the cookie off. You see him wince but still he continues to chew. He chokes it down and nods, “Not bad?”

“You’re such a liar,” you shove his head lightly. “I forgot to turn on the timer.”

“Yeah I can tell,” he takes your confession as his cue to spit the rest out into a nearby napkin.

“Thanks for this though,” you take a bite of the burger, “I had forgotten what fast food tasted like.”

“Don’t tell him I let you have it. Or that you saw me in fact. The whole arm thing is supposed to be secret.”

“Got it,” you extended your pinky for him to intertwine. He takes it but doesn’t remove his pinky after, instead he lets your connected hands fall between the both of you.

The TV is still on, except the volume is lower and an old black-and-white movie is on. You finish the burger and put the trash aside to throw away in the morning.

“Where is Mr. Hunham now?”

“Crashed as soon as his head hit the pillow.”

“So you want to talk now?” You look up at him.

“Umm, somewhere private though. Incase Mary wakes up,” he gets up, still connected to you by your fingers and pulls you alongside him. You pick up a discarded blanket along with you

“Okay. Where do you want to go?”

He walks you two out of the staff common room and you let him take the lead. Barton is cold even without all the large windows closed. It’s like walking through a haunted mansion, passing by old dusty trophy cases and pictures of past alumni. When you enter what you recognize to be the auditorium, thanks to the plaque next to the door, Angus strolls you two over to the stage. You sit on the piano bench and when he joins you, you cover him with your blanket.

You hear Angus let out a shaky breath and then see the winter air turn it into a small cloud of smoke.

Angus starts to speak, a tremble in his voice, “You’re the only person who thinks of me first know? Even when we were little, and we had a free pass to be totally self-centered you still never-. Like in middle school when you’d give me biology answers, or just now with the blanket! I have a jacket! I should be giving you the entire blanket. In fact, let me give you -, your just-.”

“It’s alright Angus,” you stop his rapid rambling, holding his face between your hands. “I already forgave you a long time ago.”

“Didn’t feel like it,” he chuckles, trying to divert his gaze but the soft hold you have on him keeps him still.

“I forgave you the second you walked in looking like a kicked puppy.”

He laughs at your words.

“Although I just want to ask what has been going on with you? I know you hate school and you're not incredibly fond of Stanely marrying your mom, but I feel like something has been bothering you. Something big.”

“I need to go to Boston Y/n,” he admits, hitting some random piano keys. The notes echo around the room.

“Okay,” you bite the inside of your cheek, “why?”

“It's snowing outside but it doesn’t feel like Christmas. But my dad, he would make it feel that way. So I need to see him and my mom had promised but you see how that turned out.”

“Oh Angus. This is why you kept bringing it up,” you gasp. “Jesus. And I had called you stupid, I’m the dense one for not connecting the dots.”

“No no. You’re not. I was being evasive. I guess I didn’t want you to worry.”

“I would have stolen Jason Smith's car keys had I known! We could be there by now, eating Clam Chowder by the bay. ”

“Nuh-uh. You’re way too of a goody-two shoe for that.”

“Well I would have followed you. Given an hour's notice, of course, to build my confidence.”

“I don't know,” Angus hits a few more keys, “Maybe this was fate like you said. It definitely didn’t deal me a cruel hand having me holdover here with you.”

“Yeah, the universe was certainly on our side for this one,” you move closer to him and put your head on his shoulder. “Hey, you think you can still play even with only one working hand?”

“I’m willing to try it,” he stretches his fingers, “What shall I serenade you with?”

“Something Beach Boys. In My Room?”

“You got it L/n.”

He plays much slower and his jaw is sharp, fully determined to get through the song for your enjoyment. He plays so gracefully you don’t even notice when he slips on occasion. You don’t mind it. It’s almost as sweet as a lullaby.

[noisycowboyglitter]

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The phrase "Oh Snap" adds a contemporary, humorous touch to the timeless gingerbread tradition. It could be interpreted in multiple ways:

As a reaction to a gingerbread house collapsing or a cookie breaking, turning a potential baking disaster into a moment of laughter.

A clever design on holiday merchandise, featuring a gingerbread man or house with the phrase "Oh Snap" incorporated.

The theme for a holiday party or event that combines gingerbread-making activities with modern games or entertainment.

This concept could inspire various products and activities, such as quirky Christmas sweaters, novelty baking aprons, or themed party games. It might also be used in social media campaigns or advertising to appeal to a younger or more humor-oriented audience.

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"Oh Snap Gingerbread Christmas" represents a blend of traditional holiday elements with contemporary pop culture, creating a fresh and entertaining approach to seasonal festivities. It's perfect for those who enjoy their Christmas celebrations with a side of humor and whimsy.

A Christmas gift is a token of love, appreciation, and holiday cheer given during the festive season. These presents come in various forms, from carefully wrapped packages under the tree to thoughtful gestures and experiences shared with loved ones.

Christmas gifts can range from practical items to luxury indulgences, handmade crafts to store-bought treasures. They often reflect the giver's understanding of the recipient's tastes, needs, or desires. Popular choices include electronics, clothing, books, toys, jewelry, and gift cards.

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The act of giving Christmas gifts is deeply rooted in tradition, symbolizing the generosity of St. Nicholas and the biblical Magi. It's a way to spread joy, strengthen bonds, and create lasting memories.

For many, the true value of a Christmas gift lies not in its monetary worth, but in the thought, effort, and sentiment behind it. The exchange of gifts is a cherished part of holiday celebrations worldwide.

Funny Secret Santa ideas add a dose of humor and creativity to the traditional gift exchange. These gifts aim to surprise and amuse recipients, often incorporating elements of playful mischief or gentle teasing. Popular options include quirky gadgets like a desktop zen garden for stressed colleagues, novelty items such as bacon-scented

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candles or unicorn meat in a can, and humorous books or games. Personalized gag gifts tailored to the recipient's interests or inside jokes can be particularly entertaining. Some ideas push boundaries with silly adult-themed presents, while others focus on practical items with a funny twist, like animal-shaped oven mitts or punny mugs. The key is to choose gifts that provoke laughter without offense, ensuring a lighthearted and memorable Secret Santa experience for all participants.

[scampthecorgi]

On the eighth day of Christmas, my corgi gave to me…

Eight rows of shingles,

Seven gingerbread men,

Six-sided snowflakes,

Fiiiiive tiny wreaths!

Four frosted windows,

Three hungry helpers,

Two bags of icing,

And a gingerbread house to decorate!

[lovelytsunoda]

the christmas collection 2024!

also this year i will be attempting some small smut fics for smut-mas the way i did kinktober (i intended to do more than two lmao but only two ending up materializing) also knowing me, there are probably going to be fics not on this list that i end up writing as well (like 'still alive' or 'you've got me under your spell' from the previous holiday collection!)! stay tuned, i hope you guys enjoy it

sugar, spice and everything nice | liam lawson | slice of life, romance, humorous

whoever said assembling a gingerbread house was easy should probably be shot

sweet sounds of heaven | logan sargeant | smut, rivals to lovers

when a winter storm traps two rival bookstore employees inside together during a power outage, tempers flare high and lines get crossed.

love, actually | robert 'bob' floyd | romance, au!

following the storyline of the magnificent hugh grant in the film 'love, actually', shows robert floyd as the nervous and newly minted admiral of the pacific fleet, and follows his shy, gentle romance with his secretary, proving that love actually *is* all around

tbd | lando norris | established relationship, slice of life

lando spends his first christmas with his girlfriend's family, and she really wants to get him out of that ugly christmas sweater

lost at the christmas market | yuki tsunoda | smau, comedy

y/n loses her boyfriend at the christmas market. chaos ensues.

jack frost nipping at your nose | charles leclerc | comedy, slice of life, romance, married life!

the coldest night of the year is not the night you want your husband to forget how to light the fireplace

who is this diva? | tbd | smau, comedy, black friday mayhem

the internet is set alight when a world-renowned race car driver is spotted fighting a social media microinfluencer for a lego set. is this a lawsuit waitng to happen or a recipe for romance? (this one is likely to be alex albon but im not sure yet!)

[sweetcomicval]

A collection of Christmas tales featuring holiday adventures and cherished traditions shared with your husband, Jaehyun, and your four-year-old son, Teo.

PAIRING: Jeong Jaehyun x fem!reader

GENRE: fluff, humor, slice of life

every part will be posted at 2 pm UTC 🫶🏼 spotify playlist 🤎

🧸 COMING HOME | Dec. 1st

You and Teo start December while Jaehyun is away on tour and you both miss him more than ever.

🧸 TIS THE SEASON | Dec. 3rd

Jaehyun is finally back home, and the family begins decorating the house and tree, with a few funny mishaps along the way.

🧸 LETTERS TO SANTA | Dec. 5th

Teo’s curiosity about writing to Santa led to a trip for paper and stickers. Afterward, Teo, Jaehyun, and you all wrote heartfelt letters to Santa.

🧸 BY GOSH, BY GOLLY! | Dec. 7th

On the seventh day of Christmas, Jaehyun bought his loving dad a swiss watch, and two matching bracelets for him and his wife.

🧸O LITTLE STAR! | Dec. 9th

You and Jaehyun help Teo prepare for his talent show, where he charms the audience with his performance, and the both of you feel incredibly proud of him.

🧸 ARE YOU DOWN TO RIDE? | Dec. 11th

Uncle Johnny comes over for a holiday photoshoot with your family, capturing lovely moments with Teo to create cards for your relatives and friends.

🧸SLEIGH RIDE | Dec. 13th

The family is excited to spend the weekend at a ski resort, enjoying the beauty of the snow and the fun of the mountain slopes.

🧸 MERRY AND BRIGHT | Dec. 15th

After the ski trip, Teo catches a cold. To cheer him up, you and Jaehyun plan a movie night featuring The Polar Express.

🧸 LUMPS OF COAL | Dec. 17th

You and Jaehyun join Teo at his Secret Santa party at daycare. The day is filled with holiday cheer, laughter, and there’s surprise encounter with a little admirer.

🧸 JINGLE BELLS, TOFU SMELLS | Dec. 19th

You suggest a vegan Christmas to Jaehyun, who is hesitant about it. He eventually agrees and the three of you go grocery shopping.

🧸 NEO CHRISTMAS TIME | Dec. 21st

The family goes to Taeyong’s pajama party. The three of you show up in cute matching pajamas and spend a lovely evening with your friends and their families.

🧸 GINGERBREAD | Dec. 23rd

On the day before Christmas Eve, the family prepares to visit Jaehyun’s parents for a special holiday gathering.

🧸 MERRY LITTLE CHRISTMAS | Dec. 25th

It’s finally Christmas day and the three of you spend the day preparing dinner for Jaehyun’s special guests. However, much to Teo’s dismay, Jaehyun makes him wait until dinner to open his gifts.

[drakewyne]

nancy got a massive star anise in that turkish coffee blend an iraqi man had brought her from a trip abroad — that’s fine, she doesn’t mind strong flavors and she likes the shape. ba’athist baghdad in the ‘70s would still be their meeting spot.

“would you believe christmas is one of my favorite holidays?”

she takes a sip. it tastes sharp ended like stars.

“actually the way i’ve been acting, i wouldn’t believe it either.”

and this is a godless season.

( cw: sad )

tim recompenses by making a gingerbread man walk over her hand. he has dark chocolate buttons and a royal icing smile. he looks a little stupid, but pleased. nancy squishes a cheek in her hand and wonders what the little cookie’s secret is.

“you have the opposite of seasonal affective disorder,” she comments while tim whistles the vince guaraldi trio, “you have seasonal disaffective disorder.”

“‘please eat me, it’s all i live for. it’s all i fucking live for.’” tim moves the cookie around.

she clicks her tongue: “at least he says it out loud.”

“i always actually felt like christmas kinda made up for the bleak 0 for 8 nature of chanukah,” tim answers, “so this part of the season’s like a reward in and of itself.”

nancy thinks and then snaps off the gingerbread man’s stupid head.

“sorry for shitting all over your pageantry then.”

“i’ve seen bigger shits.”

she separates the eyes and the smile between perfected teeth.

“it’s not your fault,” he mumbles, “everyone gets that this is kinda a bullshit time for you.”

“well,” she frowns, “i’m not really so sentimental.”

“annie.”

she swallows and turns her head to watch the plush snow falling outside. the cottony sound of the fat drops hitting the window fills her mouth with cold sponge cake. her brow pulls, as she’s tried to swallow that too.

“okay,” she begrudgingly admits, “so i’m a little sentimental.”

“and you’re taking this feeling out of place thing a little personally.”

“that’s the most personal feeling you could’ve described.”

“trust me,” tim pops both arms in his mouth, “i know.”

the gingerbread man’s down to a torso and legs, his chocolate buttoned suit delineated with icing.

nancy sips her espresso and lays both hands flat on the table, dark button eyes boring into the wood. when the sheer force of her gaze leaves no exit wounds, she softens up and feels embarrasingly weepy in the throat.

“i can’t really blame anyone,” she admits quietly, “it’s totally all my fault. that’s neutral, i think, it is what it is . . . ”

tim hands her the left leg. she thanks him and takes it in her slim hand.

“everything kinda slows down in winter anyway,” tim explains, “it’s just too quiet a season for you.”

“and for you?”

“are you kidding? i get free reign when it’s quiet like this- i go ice skating and everything.”

nancy huffs, humored. then she looks at him, and something in his eyes is sheer crystal truth. she angles her head.

“no way.”

��i actually do.”

“are you good?”

“i’m alright.”

“shut the hell up,” she shakes her head, “i hate when you do that. it means you’re actually dead good.”

“you know everyone was happy that you showed. don’t feel bad about psyching them out a little.”

there’s a star on top of the christmas tree. she thinks about the angel that used to top hers.

“if we had a pool for every time we weren’t sure if someone was showing,” tim leans back, “dick’d make the top spot every year.”

they got a fresh tree every year. and there’s a new family in that house. the angel topper?

“you can take your time. wouldn’t even matter if we split- you’d still get an invite for next year.”

she’s not totally sure where it went off to.

“hey, don’t cry-”

“i’m not,” she blinked, surprised by the accusation, “i’m not.”

then she touched beneath her eyes and realized she was.

she explained briefly that she got her dad a safe, soft balsa wood model plane and the truth was simply that he actually liked it, he was slightly excited, he loves planes. did she ever tell him that? no? oh, well, he loves planes and understands them in a way that feels bigger than what they are.

and the truth was simply that she loved him and understood him in a way that was bigger than his six feet and five inches.

both of them would prefer that the thing they love not hold them to it.

nancy and tim in his old room. she pushes the clutch ( removes her makeup ) and he pulls the choke ( unwinds her scarf from her neck ). she hates being weepy like this. she thinks it’s disgustingly indelicate and slightly rude of her considering the fanfare. she looks around at his walls and feels so much of him in the dark paint and the boyish bedspread. quintessential adolescent. blue and grey checkered and everything. he had a sony stereo right above it with headphones waiting for him to come back.

“what were you last listening to in here?” she asks.

tim presses the disc eject and scrutinizes the cd. “slowdive. souvlaki. banger album.”

“when was that?”

“don’t remember putting a cd in here recently,” he shrugs, “so i guess five years ago or so.”

she sits on the bedspread and the mattress catches her weight. from below, there’s a muffled degree of cheerful noise. his curtains are open, and the white flurries around outside.

“i don’t think i can get you out of here,” he wincingly admits, “storm’s getting too gnarly to drive in.”

“do you know where alfred would’ve taken my bags?”

“probably just by the coats.”

“can you bring them? i just want my sweater.”

he does. he watches her pull her clothes off and finds it slightly even more intimate to watch nancy put a sweater on.

“i turn into this big baby when i’m the littlest bit jetlagged,” she brushes it off, putting lotion on her peachy face after taking out her contacts, “i just get super ridiculous.”

“have you tried puking? i just puke.”

“i like the efficiency in that. get it all out.”

“i move fast.”

“i actually really like your room,” nancy looks up at the ceiling, “it’s cute you put stars up there.”

he lay beside her, squinting: “forgot i did that. anyway you’re wrong and it’s actually metal. these are the constellations you see from apokolips — where darkseid lives. it’s in this dimension that you need a boom tube to get to.”

“oh my god,” nancy sighs, shutting her eyes, “you had such a fucked up childhood.”

“my bad.”

she touches his hand and he turns his palm up to make it easier. she was just curious, just wondering, but did he ever hold hands in this room like this? no. too many people and too little respect for closed doors and too much urgency. he was making moves without a home field advantage. a panicky adolescent bravery.

“not to mention, my room wasn’t ever really suitable for visitors.”

“it still isn’t back at yours.”

“then i guess there is no stopping sister nancy after all. i’m glad they made that song real.”

she laughs lightly, low and slow and dizzy. then she apologizes quietly for being a pain about everything. then she asks him to tell everyone that she really appreciates the invitation, but she can’t hang. he will.

he says, “hey, before you go to sleep.”

tim has likely been eating his body weight in gingerbread all night, but she likes strong flavors and it feels sharp ended like stars. his hair crushed against her head and this was an unfamiliar, surprising custom that she blinked over. this closeness. this buoy knocking of skulls.

“nobody thinks there’s a way you’re supposed to feel about anything, but i’ll still leave out the part where you started crying.”

kissing would be easier. would at least give her something to do with her hands.

“the patience’s actually kinda annoying,” he admits, “give it a few hours over breakfast and you’ll be begging to get called out.”

yet as is historically true for her, the long way out is objectively the best way.

“you think it’s a little stupid, right?” she asks hesitantly.

tim doesn’t give her what she wants. he keeps his face the same.

“how you feel doesn’t have anything to do with what’s stupid or not.”

“i know better.”

“how you feel doesn’t have anything to do with knowing shit either.”

“tim,” she shuts her bird egg eyes, “do you remember what happened?”

“i remember what i think happened.”

“well, i remember everything. i remember it all super clearly.”

“ . . . i believe you.”

she opens her eyes.