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mangoshorthand · 1 year ago

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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.

#the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy imagine #umbrella academy x reader #the umbrella academy five #umbrella academy number five #umbrella academy five x reader #umbrella academy five x you #five hargreaves x you #five hargreaves x reader #number five imagine #five hargreeves imagine #number 5 imagine #number 5 x reader #number five x you

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ursuburbanmother · 8 months ago

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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.”

“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.

#angus tully #angus tully x reader #the holdovers

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sweetcomicval · 7 days ago

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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.

#jeong jaehyun #jeong jaehyun x reader #nct x reader #jaehyun fic #jaehyun x reader #nct fanfiction #nct fluff #kpop fluff #kpop fanfic #nct #nct 127 #nct u #nct dojaejung #happy birthday to try again !! long live the queen 👑#sweetcomicval #peach & pine

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damiannasworld · 1 year ago

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Seiska strikes again. 🤣

Käärijä's Onlyfans calendar makes you stunned - BDSM content, humiliation and licking

Käärijä calendar is clearly made with a sense of humor.

Käärijä has, among other things, rolled gingerbread dough on the bare buttocks of Häärijä wearing a thong, touched his nipples with a tongue and given Häärijä a whip on the butt with a rope. Some of the videos resemble soft BDSM content, i.e. the spectrum of sadomasochistic sex.

The two have also shown off their biceps in publications and performed gymnastic moves. In one of the Christmas calendars Santa brought big packages to Käärijä while Häärijä only got one small gift.

#the click bait headline 💀#lmao #käärijä #article #december 2023

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lilacliquors · 11 months ago

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pairing: billy butcher x reader

word count: 1166

notes: on the twelfth day of ficmas, lilacliquors gave to me ... billy butcher learning the true meaning of christmas!

and this is the final day of ficmas!! i said it the other day, but thank you so much for participating in our very successful 12 days of ficmas, and for enjoying the little one shots.

the full masterlist will be queued up for christmas day as a little gift to you, and then i'll go back to posting the stuff in my inbox / some other things in the coming days! have a happy holiday if you celebrate, and a very happy new year <3

if anyone was a pre-roast beast carving grinch, it was billy butcher. he was never one to get into the holiday spirit, claiming he had nothing to celebrate. nothing you did could help change his mind, he was so set in his ways. you, on the other hand, loved the holidays. they filled you with a kind of joy that only came around once a year. it had always been a big holiday with your family, and you carried on a lot of the traditions you all had.

you had your three types of cookies to bake: almond crescent, peppermint pinwheels, and gingerbread men. you started playing christmas music on black friday, queueing up your favorites right away and changing the radio station on the weekends to the one you knew would be playing nonstop holiday tunes. you had your whole apartment decorated just days after thanksgiving, and it looked perfect every time. so perfect, in fact, that billy couldn’t help but be in awe when he came by to visit you.

he knew you loved the holidays, he just couldn’t understand why. to him, it was just any other time of year, just much colder and far more annoying when you had random people ringing bells and collecting for sham charities. it was a load of bullshit to him, but rather than dim your light, he kept his mouth shut when he was with you. today was going to be a little harder, though, because he was joining you on a little shopping trip.

“why are we doing this again?” he asked, watching as you wrapped your scarf around your neck.

“because i picked a few names from an angel tree, and we’re going to give those kids a merry christmas. come on, this is the fun part,” you said.

“angel tree? the fuck is that?” he held the door open for you, and you both ventured out into the cold.

“okay, so, it’s a tree that has the names, ages, and christmas wishes of children from families that might not have the means to celebrate christmas. so, you pick a name, or a few, from the tree, and you fulfill their christmas wish! i think it’s a really great cause, i do it every year,” you explained, walking beside him down the sidewalk. billy said nothing, but just simply shrugged his shoulders. sounded like a load of shit to him, but you were excited for it, so what was the harm in humoring you?

you made it to the department store, and once inside, you pulled out the tags of the children whose names you picked. to billy’s surprise, you had around five tags in your hands, and he guided you to the side as you read them out.

“okay, i picked ones who asked for clothes, but not as many toys. they’ve got the sizes listed, so this will be a piece of cake. come on!” you tucked the tags away, took billy’s hand, and started making your way to the children’s section of the floor.

“i thought kids wanted all them fuckin’ noisy pieces of junk. why’d you pick clothes?” he asked, watching as you thumbed through the wracks of clothes.

“clothes tend to be more expensive, and not as many people feel inclined to pick them. they think toys are easier, and that all kids want toys, no matter what. but sometimes, all these boys and girls want is a new winter coat, since theirs is two sizes two small. or warm pajamas, or new sneakers because their feet are too big. they don’t ask for much, they know they can’t. so why deny them this in favor of some plastic?”

billy fell silent as he watched you hold up a coat. it was purple with a soft lavender lining, a hood on the back, and pockets that zipped shut. it looked warm, cozy, perfect for a little girl. you set it over your arm and went back to looking, and billy held out his hand.

“here, let me hold the tags. i’ll read them out to you,” he said, and you smiled.

“thanks. here you go.” you handed him the tags, and he read them over himself. just like you had described, four out of the five asked for winter jackets. one asked for a sweater, another for new winter boots. he glanced up at you, and you now had a few more coats in your arms, and you looked over to confirm you had the right sizes.

“all right, you think these will do?” you asked, holding up your haul.

“i think they’re perfect. let’s go find that sweater, and those boots.”

you walked along together, and with him beside you this time, you looked through the children’s sweaters. this one was for a little girl, age six, and nothing was really speaking to you. but then, to your surprise, billy held up a light blue sweater with beautifully knitted snowflakes on it.

“what do you think of this one?” he asked, angling it so you could see better.

“i think it’s perfect, but check the size.”

“already did. it’ll fit her, promise.”

you smiled, then gave him a thumbs up. he smiled a bit, then draped it over his arm before you went on to find the rest of the items on the tags. soon, both his and your arms were full of other clothes, the coats, and one teddy bear that billy picked out for a little boy. you made it to the register, and together, you split the cost of everything. once it was bagged and you were on your way, billy wrapped his arm around your shoulders and tucked you close to his side.

“you’re a good one, you know that?” he asked as you walked.

“so are you,” you replied.

“nah, not me. always been a heartless bastard.”

“a heartless bastard wouldn’t have found that teddy bear. or that sweater. give yourself some credit here, butcher. you’re gonna help make this christmas the best one some of these kids have ever had. it’s the most wonderful time of the year, after all. season of giving and all that,” you said, nudging him gently. he glanced down at the bags between you, then shrugged again and offered a small smile.

“yeah, maybe it is. but that one woman in the toy aisle was a right cunt. did you see the look she was givin’ me?” he asked, and you laughed.

“oh my god, of course i did! it was like she’d never seen a grown man with a teddy bear before. he was a cutie, by the way.”

“mh, cute little fucker. guess that’s what this is all about, eh? making other people happy?”

“that’s how i’ve always seen it.”

“then … as long as i get to make you happy, i can give this holiday shit a try. starting next year.”

a whole 365 days away? you smiled. after all, it was a start.

#billy butcher x reader #billy butcher fluff #billy butcher #billy butcher ficmas #12 days of ficmas 2023 #ficmas 2023 #lilacliquors ficmas 2023

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yes-i-write-fanfiction · 5 months ago

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How do the TFP Human Daemons celebrate Christmas?

-Optimus' daemon decides that the holiday is a perfect opportunity to do some team bonding and for the team to relax. Sure, it's an alien holiday that doesn't really have any meaning to them but she's heard the kids talk about it, how it brings people together. The war weighs heavy on everyone and she wants them to forget it, even if just for a short moment.

Asking the kids, June and agent Fowler for help, she decorates the base. Some string lights, an inflatable Santa, a plastic Christmas tree. Optimus helps her prepare everything, agreeing that their team deserves something nice. More focused on creating a comfortable, cheery atmosphere than anything.

-Ratchet's daemon has no interest in celebrating Christmas. It means nothing to them, there are no fond memories or traditions they feel compelled to follow. The truth is that the holiday only serves to remind both her and Ratchet that they are so far away from home. But if Optimus' daemon wants to throw them a party (because that's basically what it is) then she will play along. Just don't expect this holiday to take priority over her work. Ends up getting really drunk after the kids go home and watching shitty Christmas movies with Ratchet.

-Bumblebee's daemon is so excited for Christmas. She's heard so much about it and Raf have told them so many stories that they can't wait to experience it for themselves. Helps Optimus' daemon prepare while also proclaiming herself the base's Santa. Meaning she's got to get everyone a gift! They... might have bitten off more than they can chew there. Ends up high key stressed out about what to get for everyone and Bumblebee has to drive them around Jasper to get everything. Sucks at wrapping presents but is so proud of their work that no one has the heart to say anything.

-Bulkhead's daemon is down to celebrate the holiday. It's good for people to relax and remember to be, well, people again. Blares Christmas songs on Bulkhead's radio and hums them while she goes about her day. Makes a gingerbread house together with Arcee's daemon and the kids. The house ends up looking more like a heavily fortified fortress rather than a cute cottage but it looks rad as fuck so no one is complaining. Buys alcohol that she'll share with the rest of the team once the children have gone home.

-Arcee's daemon thinks it's a nice change of pace and decides to humor everyone by wearing the ugliest Christmas sweater known to man. Makes gingerbread men to go together with the gingerbread house and makes it look like they are fighting a war. One of the gingerbread men is having its leg amputated by a gingerbread medic. Can be seen munching on candy canes at any given moment.

#transformers imagine #transformers prime #optimus prime #ratchet #bumblebee #bulkhead #arcee

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baronessblixen · 1 year ago

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O Holy No (1/10)

Using the last ten prompts from the 24 Days of the X-Mas Files Challenge to write a multi-chapter fic with angst, humor, and fluff in an alternate season 7.

Today's prompt is: sexy santa costume

Summary: It's Christmas time and Mulder and Scully are getting closer - or are they? And as a special gift for the season, Diana is around to wreak havoc, too. Only one thing is certain: it's going to be a Christmas to remember.

(Chapter one, wc: 1,103)

Tagging @today-in-fic

Four days til Christmas Eve and Scully feels giddy with excitement from head to toe. They closed their latest case, neither of them got injured or sick, and there’s nothing else to do until after the holidays. A rare moment in time and one she appreciates.

Mulder promised her that this year, he’d not even check any internet forums, and wouldn’t pick up the phone if anyone were to call him with a lead. She hasn’t asked him what he’s doing for Christmas yet this year and knows that if she invited him to her family Christmas, he’d decline. It's the same every year.

And this Christmas, she wouldn't just invite him to her mother's house. This time, they're celebrating in San Diego. If he were to come with her, it would mean more. And she’s not sure they’re ready for that particular more yet. As much as she wants to be. She’s caught herself daydreaming about catching Mulder under the mistletoe and fulfilling a fantasy she’s had for years.

Kissing him.

They’re getting closer. It’s as much in the air as the scent of fresh pine and gingerbread. Her heart pitter-pattered when Mulder asked her if she was busy after they got home. Said he wanted to exchange Christmas presents before she left for San Diego. She said yes. They’re not even pretending they didn't get each other anything for Christmas this time like they did last year. This year they’re unabashedly honest. At least about the fact that they got each other gifts. She’s been carrying one of his gifts with her for a while. It’s nothing special, just something she thought funny, and that she hopes he’ll appreciate.

“After exchanging gifts,” Mulder says, fetching his keys from his coat pocket and glancing at her. “Would you like to stay and watch a movie?” The way he blushes makes her smile. They’ve known each other for seven years, and they’ve spent countless hours together, and yet, he blushes asking her this.

“I’d like that,” she replies with a soft smile. Mulder unlocks his door with his eyes still fixated on her face. He’s grinning from ear to ear and Scully has to stop herself from not just skipping a few steps and jumping his bones. She’s the rational one here, after all.

“I think I know what- what the fuck.”

Scully doesn’t register right away what made Mulder stop dead in his tracks as she’s about to take off her coat. She stops with her arms mid-air when she sees what Mulder is seeing too. There, in front of his desk, surrounded by soft glowing Christmas lights, stands Diana. Wearing a tiny Santa costume, a smile, and not much else.

“There you are,” she says sounding chipper. There’s not a hint of discomfort on her face or in her behavior. She glances at Scully and blinks, but then her attention is back on Mulder. “You should have called and said you’d be late.” She throws herself at him and he catches her – much to Scully’s chagrin.

“Did you drive Fox home?” Diana asks Scully with raised eyebrows. Up close, she can get a good look at the other woman. Who isn’t at all shy, despite Scully’s presence. As if, as Mulder’s partner, she was of no consequence to Diana. The other woman is waiting for her to say something. But what? Scully’s mouth is dry. She fears that if she does open her mouth, she will be sick.

What she knows for sure is that this sight will haunt her for years to come. Diana’s dress clings to her, revealing every curve the woman has. Except where the dress ends mid-thigh. Scully wishes she could close her eyes, cover her ears, and run out of here. Her heart tightens, and so does her throat, when she realizes what this means.

The way Diana is acting, the way she’s not as all taken aback, she knew when Mulder was coming home. Meaning he must have told her. Which also means he knew she would be here. Diana is still hanging from his neck, and while Mulder looks pale and surprised, Scully doesn’t think it’s because of Diana. It’s because he forgot she was here and he invited her in. She was never supposed to see this, or know about this.

Her fantasy crumbles like a dry piece of cake. There’s not going to be a kiss under the mistletoe for her and Mulder. There’s not going to be a shift in their relationship. All these little moments she’s accumulated over the months amount to nothing. His touches weren’t lingering, his smiles weren’t brighter. Or if they were, it was because of Diana. Knowing she was waiting for him at home. Knowing he had someone to come home to. Who knew Mulder would get out of the car before she did – and with someone else, too.

“I’m just- I’m gonna go,” she says, falling over her words as much as her feet.

“Good idea,” Diana says sweetly. There’s bloody red lipstick on her teeth when she gives Scully a devilish smile. All the fight has gone out of Scully and she finds herself walking backward towards the door.

“Scully, wait,” Mulder says, shaking a clingy Diana off, who pouts at him. For a moment, though, his full attention is on Scully. There’s a haunted look in his eyes and he’s pleading with his words, and his gestures, but Scully barely hears him. She backs away, needing the distance between them.

“This is not what it looks like,” he says.

“Don’t lie to her, Fox.”

“I’m not lying.” His voice is menacing when he turns back around, addressing Diana. “I don’t even know how you got in here.”

“You gave me your key last time, remember?” It’s that last blow. Her words feel like a slap and Scully gasps. Tears sting her eyes, and she knows that if she doesn’t leave right away, she will break down in front of Diana, and she refuses to give the other woman that satisfaction.

“I’m leaving,” she says so quietly she’s not sure either Diana or Mulder hear. And if she’s honest, she doesn’t even care. She needs to get away and lick her wounds. Alone.

“Scully, please.” But she just keeps going, the clack of her heels her only companion because Mulder isn’t running after her. She keeps the tears at bay until she’s in a cab on her way back home.

How could she have read these last few months so wrong?

And when, she can’t help but wonder, did Mulder and Diana start dating?

#ficmas2023 #this is super scary to me!#i have wanted to write something multi-chaptered and it keeps scaring the shit out of me #so facing my fear before the year is over #thank you for being patient with me while i figure this out #msr #xf fanfic #my writing #my fic

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zal-cryptid · 2 years ago

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Santa Claus Procedures

an SCP tale by Zal Cryptid

~ PHASE 1 ~

A thin naked old man stood in awe outside an inconspicuous farmhouse in the rural outskirts of Chicago. An inhuman grin stretched across his face as he admired the twinkling Christmas lights that the inhabitants had strung up around their home. Tonight, the Yule Man has come to bring Christmas to the good little boys and girls.

Dragging his sack full of putrid goodies behind him, the Yule Man trudged through the snow towards the house. He scaled up the walls, peeking through the windows at its sleeping inhabitants before making his way up to the chimney. Squeezing himself down the flue, the Yule Man effortlessly emerged from the fireplace – his limbs outstretched and crawling like a spider.

The room around him illuminated by the warm glow of the Christmas tree that stood in the corner. Stockings hung along the fireplace mantle under framed photographs of a loving family. In front of him on a small round table were a plate of cookies and a drink accompanied by a note that read 'for Santa' in bright red crayon.

The Yule Man, placed his sack down on the floor and inspected the offering on the table. He was a creature of ritual and tradition; he could not turn down such a generous gift. He devoured the plate of gingerbread men and reached for the glass to wash it down. He inspected the creamy brown liquid first, recognizing the scent of coffee and whiskey to be that of Irish cream. An uncommon choice, but not unwelcomed.

However, it wasn’t long after gulping it down did he started to feel sick. Something about that cream liqueur didn’t agree with him. He hadn’t sensed any substances in it that could have caused this sort of reaction.

“Do you like the gift we left for you?” an unseen voice asked. Before the Yule Man could turn to see who was speaking, he buckled over and began vomiting what seemed like buckets of Irish cream.

“The Foundation and I threw together a little something special for you this Christmas. Bailey’s Irish Cream, poured from the veins of a drunk in a Santa costume.”

The Yule Man, now on his hands and knees, writhed in pain as he felt his blood, saliva, bile, sweat, and even the vitreous humor in his eyes begin to transmute into Irish cream.

“I told you to stay out of the Chicago area, Yule Man.”

Before his vision became clouded, he finally managed to spot the source of the voice - a small surveillance camera and speaker hidden within the Christmas Tree.

“Kids here already have a St. Nick.”

He struggled as he slowly lifted his body up off the floor, Irish cream dripping from his orifices as he did. His face was twisted into an expression of unbridled rage. The Yule Man staggered towards the device that was speaking to him, reaching out his long spindly arm and pulling it off its fixture. He stared into the camera, scowling.

“NAUGHTY.”

He crushed the device in his hands, letting the pieces fall to the floor.

-------------

In a bunker beneath a defunct military base, a military computer bank stares back at the now static screen reading 'SIGNAL LOST'.

“Do you think it worked? Is that monster dead?” It asked.

Alexandra, the artificial intelligence conscript who had been watching alongside him, furrowed her virtual brow.

“I think we only managed to piss it off, Nick.”

"Hm. Initiate phase two."

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is an excerpt from an SCP tale I'm working on that I wanted to share. I originally planned on making it a comic, but I'm just too burntout for that, so I decided to adapt it into prose instead.

#scp tale #scp foundation #christmas #santa claus #scp #fic

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kits-ships · 11 months ago

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random christmas ramble/gush with azi/crow/sera

i just know aziraphaIe loves christmas so so much...... he decorates his bookstore. he decorates sera's apartment/nursery. and you BET he would decorate crowIey's apartment if he'd just let him in there!!

still, they love to humor him...... they go out and get festive drinks, sera watches christmas movies with azi, and crowIey goes digging through antique stores for old decorations to fit aziraphaIes aesthetic <3

also? the amount of hot cocoa they drink is ungodly and sera's house reeks of gingerbread and chocolate chip cookies... plus everyone has to be on watch to make sure crowIey isn't making their hot cocoa with a bit of baileys added

on christmas eve, they plop into bed (even if crowIey and azi dont really need to sleep) and they just rest for a few hours until azi is like !!! ok!! christmas morning!! get up!!! and they then plop onto the couch to eat breakfast, listen to christmas records, then PRESENTS... sera loves everything she gets (even if she doesnt exactly know what youre gifting her), crowIey makes a snarky comment about their choice of present but secretly adores it, and aziraphaIe is near tears every time he unwraps something. even if you just got him fuzzy socks he becomes a sniffling little wet beast....

i dont know what else they do bc i dont really do much for christmas but they definitely open christmas crackers, maybe miracle up a lil snow, and azi convinces them to go skating with him! sera falls. aziraphaIe falls. crowIey is surprising good at it??

#ough...#ac; as sure as god made black and white #ramblerambleramble

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clarktooncrossing · 1 year ago

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Giraffe's Eye View: Christmas Specials Special (2023) | Barbie in Nutcracker

Chestnuts are roasting on an open fire. Jack Frost is nipping at your nose. Mom and dad can hardly wait for school to start again. All the dogs in the neighborhood somehow learned to bark Jingle Bells in sync. Yet retail workers are still more annoyed with Mariah Carey. Snow is getting shoveled, tossed, and formed into sentient beings leading parades without permits. It makes for an excellent distraction as the Krampus abducts children for bad behavior. Fruitcake is exchanged only to find its permanent home in the garbage. Terrorists have hijacked the Holiday office party right before your boss can give you a Jelly of the Month Club membership as your bonus. And of course, the Turducken has returned to wreak its fiery vengeance upon an unsuspecting world! If all this doesn’t put you in the Christmas spirit, perhaps these following Holiday specials will!

Greetings people of today and robots of tomorrow! It is I, Santa Clark, your geeky giraffe friend with a deep love of Christmas! My obsession for the yuletide is rivaled only by Maleficent’s hatred for it, which is saying a lot considering she once teamed up with Mad Madam Mim to kidnap the literal Spirit of Christmas. Yes, that really happened. I know this due to my annual pilgrimage to the Island of Misfit Specials, home to obscure or nerdy festive media ranging from movies, TV episodes, and comics. It’s no easy journey. Constantly I find myself confronted by sinister snowmen, genocidal gingerbread men, and worst of all, crappy commercials. Getting stabbed in the foot by a candy-cane wielding cookie is one thing, but I swear I’ve seen that ad for Wilbur’s White Elephant Gift Emporium more times than I’ve seen Miracle on 34th Street! Sometimes at night I catch myself reciting that jingle. Wilbur’s White Elephant Gift Emporium: Where Christmas meets Convenience! Huh, maybe Maleficent had a point.

Nah, my deep-rooted appreciation for this time of year can weather even the most moronic marketing! It helps that most of the merry media I’ve seen have put me in the perfect Holiday mood! Examples include the time a Ninja Turtle found himself trapped in a truck full of stollen toys, a drunk department store Santa stumbling onto a wish-granting magic bag, Big Bird nearly becoming a popsicle, Gwenpool waking up in a world where Galactus took the place of jolly ol’ Saint Nicholas, a terrifying tree stump trying to slaughter some saps over a stupid ship war, and the year when Death gave the Little Match Girl the greatest gift of all. Needless to say, I thought I had seen it all. That is, until I took my friends on a trip to the Island, tasking them to find me new, strange, seasonal specials to review! Some of them were fair, finding me festive favorites as comforting as coco in front of the fireplace. Others were fiendish, wanting to feed off my misery like Gremlins after midnight. Regardless of how naughty or nice my companions were, I’ve compiled all of their suggestions into a makeshift advent calendar! So stay tuned everyday until Christmas to see how badly my buddies can shred what little sanity I have left.

On the first day of Christmas, my buddies gave to me...

Hoo boy, what a way to start. Now you’d think my friend Molly (molly420) would’ve made her choice due to the magnificent Margot Robbie vehicle that came out earlier this year. Honestly, Harley Quinn’s humorous turn as the iconic blonde bimbo had nothing to do with this. I’ve been trying to get this special written for a while now and Molly missed her chance to partake the first time around. Knowing I’d offer myself up to being tormented again, she set an alarm on her phone to remind herself to suggest Barbie in Nutcracker when the opportunity presented itself the following year. That kind of disturbing dedication I can oddly respect. Still doesn’t stop me from feeling annoyed. Jolly as I may be, Nutcracker turns me into a Scrooge! My love of Christmas only goes so far when I’m bored out of my mind in an auditorium, watching confused toddlers prance around on stage, the titular toy soldier clashing against a dude in a bargain bin rat costume. How can a show be so tedious yet so trippy? No wonder I made a comic comparing my going to see it to the five stages of grief. My love of Barbie isn’t much higher, her only being interesting whenever she’s in a Pixar picture. Say what you will, but Barbie and Ken’s relationship in Toy Story 3 gave us Ariel and Batman flirting. Any argument you have is invalid. Still, perhaps I’m being too harsh. I’ve praised an adaptation featuring Mickey and Minnie before, so there is precedent for decent retellings of this tale. Will Barbie manage to pull off something similar?

Certainly not in the art department she won’t! Admittedly this is a direct-to-video movie from 2001, a time when computer animation was still finding its footing. Not to mention, this movie was one of the first to use motion capture, employing the world famous New York City Ballet to provide the dancing seen on screen. In a time when Gollum wasn’t even a fully realized character yet, that’s actually impressive! Really, I have to tip my hat there. Everything else looks like a sugar plum fever dream. This is one of those movies you never want to pause ever! The lighting is lackluster, the textures are terrible, and any movement outside of the dancing is stiffer than a board. This animation has aged like eggnog! Still, it’s not the worst cartoon content I’m critiquing this Christmas. At least it succeeds in making Barbie look as plastic as ever.

Speaking of our pink protagonist, our story starts with Barbie (Kelly Sheridan) in the middle of instructing her ballet class. A class that consists of one brat failing to master a basic move. Business is booming! Seeing her sole source of income struggling, our blonde ballet instructor halts class in order to tell a self-insert fanfiction where she takes on the role of Clara. She is visited by her adventurous Aunt Drosselmayer (Kathleen Barr) on Christmas Eve, bringing with her a horribly rendered Nutcracker. Her niece is smitten by the doll cuz some peeps have kooky kinks. She even goes so far as to bandage up its arm when her brother breaks it. Great, now he can’t come with Clara to Cowboy Camp! Despite the busted limb, the wooden warrior is able to ward off an army of malicious mice that invade the house later that night. Leading these vile vermin is their king, voiced by the GOAT, Tim Curry. Oh Tim, you’re the gift that keeps on giving! He is the savory pinch of salt that can turn any drab slab of beef into a five-star steak. He is the shiny red ribbon tied up on that piece of coal you found in your stocking. He is the guy who has it out bad for Christmas if this and Belle’s Enchanted Christmas are any indication. As per usual he adds sinister charisma to an otherwise forgettable fiend.

A shame he’s not in the movie for long. Upon waking up, Barbie takes a page out of Clark Griswold’s guide to exterminating pests by covering the critter in a coat before bashing its brains out with a hammer. Or at least that’s what should’ve happened. Rather she stands still long enough for the Mouse King to use his magical scepter to shrink her down like Ant-Man. Only after does she repel the rodent via meekly kicking her slipper at him. Brilliant strategy Barbie, G.I. Joe’s got nothin’ on you! Especially since now you’re the same size. Left wondering how to return to normal, the suddenly sentient owl perched atop her grandfather clock swoops in to exposit. Oh sure, she could’ve prevented this from happening by simply eating the mice, but that’d be too logical. Jee, thanks ya' feathery fool. Instead she tasks the two with finding the Sugar Plum Princess, a magical maiden from the Kingdom of Parthenia who went missing years ago. Only she can help Barbie regain her tall status as well as dethrone the mousey monarch.

Thus off they’re sent to this magical realm, encountering freakish fairies, rampaging rock giants, multicolored mares, and the always bickering Captain Candy (Ian James Corlett) and Major Mint (Christopher Gaze). Whenever these two aren’t repressing their obvious sexual tension they’re blaming the missing Prince Eric for their troubles. He's the reason for their many woes! A sentiment shared by the few survivors still living here. Dang, you folks have a nasty habit of misplacing your monarchs. Maybe you ott’a start tagging them.

Whatever happened to Prince Eric? According to Mint his friend was next in line to rule before finding himself smitten by a red-headed fish girl who saved him from a sinking ship. Shirking off more of his responsibilities led to the Mouse King eventually seizing power, the tiny tyrant transforming the prince into the very same Nutcracker (Kirby Morrow) escorting Barbie in the present. A plot twist so obvious even our heroine saw it coming a mile away. Props to this picture for subverting expectations but that just makes Barbie’s inability to figure out the bigger reveal all the more moronic. Cuz yeah, no freak’n duh she's the Sugar Plum Princess! No doubt all of you figured that out as soon as the name was dropped. By the end Barbie finally figures it out herself, using her powers to grow back to full size, squish the Mouse King under her hot-pink heel, then dance an annoyingly long amount of time with her now human boi toy. Hey, might as well get your money’s worth out of those New York Ballerinas.

My snark should’ve made it clear by now how this adaptation isn’t for me. That’s not to say there aren’t things I liked. For starters, I appreciated the writers’ attempt to turn what’s normally a string of random sequences into a coherent narrative. Granted, they never explain how Aunty Drosslemeyer came into possession of the Nutcracker, why the Sugar Plum Princess went missing in the first place, or how Barbie suddenly learns how to use her magic, but still the effort is there. Overall the script wasn’t as brain dead as I feared it’d be. Then again, perhaps it didn’t seem as stupid due to the talented voice cast reading it. Aside from Curry, the ensemble is stuffed with My Little Pony alumni, Starlight Glimmer delivering a decent performance for our main star. Clearly she struck a chord with audiences considering how many times she’d reprise this role afterwards. Out of all the cast though, Kirby Morrow as the Prince was the weakest link, his voice never matching the character design. Not to mention, they had the audacity to cast Curry and never give him ONE stink’n song number? Screw this movie not being a musical, you don't cast a Sweet Transvestite without letting them sing! It’s a crime punishable by death! Atop of that, the pacing is peculiar in places, the plot twists are obnoxiously obvious, and the animation is just adequate. By no means is this a masterpiece.

It is, however, a great excuse to spend time with my cousin. Being a fan of Barbie for as long as she’s been alive meant she was the perfect person to call to borrow a copy from. We got together and had a laugh at the movie’s expense, my cousin unable to ignore the apparent flaws either. Fun times were had, and what more could I possibly ask for? At least now I don’t have to review any more versions of Nutcracker… right?

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