#Thanksgiving Birthday Decorations

[lovesinlife]

[bee-in-a-box]

I need someone to tell me if I'm being an asshole. Reddit AITA moment okay?

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Jolly Holidays

Dean and Sam Winchester x little sister!reader

Requested by anonymous

Synopsis: Reader likes to celebrate every holiday, no matter how small

“Where’d you get that?” Sam asked, trying desperately to put on a stern face, but unable to hide his smile when you placed the birthday cake on the table.

“The store,” you said innocently.

“And how did you pay for it?” Sam asked, but just then he noticed the lettering on the cake. “Happy Birthday…Samantha?”

You winced. “Ok, so maybe it wasn’t exactly meant for me, but it was just so close to your name that I couldn’t pass up the opportunity.”

“And Samantha?” Sam asked.

You shrugged, “Should’ve picked up her cake on time.”

Sam rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. He leaned over and hugged you.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

You grinned.

“Happy Birthday, Sammy.”

…

“We need this.”

Dean just stared at you, not moving to put the item in his basket.

“Why?”

“Because it’s Thanksgiving,” you scoffed, reaching around Dean’s arm and dropping the small plastic container in his basket. “So we need turkey.”

“That’s Deli meat, it barely qualifies.”

“It’s not like we’re ever gonna get one of those,” you gestured to a display of large frozen turkeys. “So this’ll have to do.”

“What are we arguing about over here?” Sam stuck his head in between two aisles to join the conversation.

“Thanksgiving dinner,” you told him. He stared at the items in Dean’s basket.

“Deli meat, licorice, and a six pack of beer?”

“Hey, if we’re doing Thanksgiving, then I’m getting pie,” Dean declared, wandering off to another aisle.

“You’re never gonna get Thanksgiving to be a big thing, no matter how many years you try,” Sam told you after Dean was gone.

“It doesn’t have to be a big thing,” you assured him. “This is enough.”

…

“Y/N, please go to bed.”

You ignored Sam’s request, opting to remain sitting at the motel window, staring out into the night.

“I don’t even know if he’s gonna be home tonight, it might be tomorrow.”

“Just let her be,” Dean insisted from his bed. “If she wants to wait a little longer it’s fine.”

You stayed silent throughout your brother’s conversation, too intent on your own thoughts. You didn’t often wait up for John, mostly because you knew he was usually late. But today, today was different. Today you really wanted him to be on time.

“Sweetheart, please-“

“He’s here!” Your outburst when you saw John’s car pull into the motel startled both brothers.

The moment that John stepped into the motel room, he was forced back when you threw yourself into his arms.

“Whoa, hey,” he greeted, confused and more than a little exhausted. “Why are you still awake?”

“She insisted on waiting for you,” Sam explained while you stepped away from your dad and ran over to the fridge.

“Why? Kid, you should be in b-“ John cut himself off when you emerged from the small fridge with a sloppily decorated chocolate cake in your hands and a huge grin on your face.

“What’s this?” He asked softly.

“Happy birthday,” you sing-songed, placing the cake in the middle of the tiny motel table.

“You made this?” John’s voice was still uncharacteristically quiet.

“Yeah,” your grin faltered a little. “Well, mostly, I mean it’s from a box mix, but I figured since this motel has an actual oven that…” you stopped, suddenly self conscious. “Is this ok? I mean I know you don’t really do birthdays but I tho-“

You were cut off when John wrapped you in his arms, and you relaxed in his tight embrace.

He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to.

“Happy birthday, dad.”

…

“Ouch! What was that for?” Sam grumbled when you leaned over and pinched his arm.

“Wasn’t me,” you said innocently. “It was a leprechaun. They do that when you don’t wear green on this sacred day.”

“Sacred day? It’s just Saint Patrick’s Day, no one celebrates that,” Dean insisted. “And if you even think about pinching me, I’m gonna punch you in the face.”

You huffed, leaning back in your seat.

“You guys are no fun.”

Dean laughed, leaning back in his seat and reaching back to ruffle your hair.

“Better luck next year, leprechaun.”

…

“I’m telling you, something’s wrong.”

“I don’t know, Dean. She seems fine.”

“She didn’t even get one of those little plastic candle things for Hanukkah.”

“Maybe because we’re not Jewish,” Sam scoffed.

“That’s never stopped her before.”

“So she’s growing out of the holiday thing, what do you want me to do about it?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know, you’re usually the one who wants to talk about feelings,” Dean grumbled. “I figured you’d have an idea.”

“Well, I’m not even convinced that something’s wrong,” Sam argued, but at the look on Dean’s face he began to relent. “Do you really think something’s wrong?”

“Yeah. I think it’s this search for dad, man. It’s wearing on her. I wanna do something about it, she’s been acting weird for a couple of weeks now.”

“I mean, she’s been quiet, but-“

“Look, Sam, I don’t think you get it. You were gone for a while-“ Dean held up his hands innocently when Sam opened his mouth to protest. “And I’m not about to argue about that again. I’m just saying, maybe you don’t see it because you haven’t spent as much time with her. I just need you to trust me on this, we gotta do something.”

“Ok,” Sam sighed. “Ok, I have an idea.”

…

“They didn’t have coke so I grabbed…” your voice trailed off as you entered the hotel room. “What’s this?”

“Christmas,” Dean grinned at you from under a Santa hat.

“You guys…decorated for Christmas?” You looked around in awe. “Like…the two of you? No threats, no gun to your head?”

“Well, you didn’t seem in the mood so we did it for you,” Sam explained. “What do you think?”

You were silent for several moments while you took it all in; a little plastic tree on the table, a couple of red and green balloons, Sam and Dean wearing matching Santa hats, and even a couple of newspaper-wrapped presents under the tiny tree.

“I think I wanna Santa hat,” your voice came out quietly, almost reverently, like if you spoke too loud you would wake up.

“They only had two,” Dean said, reaching into his bag, “but we did get you this!” He pulled out a headband with pointy plastic ears, and a cardboard green elf hat sticking out of the top. You giggled and snatched it from his hand, placing it on your head.

“Even better.”

The three of you spent that night opening gifts and drinking hot chocolate, before ending the night with you falling asleep to Elf.

Dean carried you to bed when the movie was over, setting you on one side while he climbed in on the other, pulling the blankets over the both of you. Sam came over to the bed you and Dean were sharing to give you a good night kiss on the forehead, before he went over to his own bed and quickly fell asleep.

“Dean?” You whispered sleepily.

“Yeah baby?”

“Merry Christmas.”

Dean grinned, leaning over to press a kiss to your head, and when he laid back down you scooted closer to him, and he wrapped you in his arms.

“Merry Christmas, little sister.”

[gyllenhaalstories]

BODIES IN THE SAND — ELWOOD DALTON 🎂

summary: it’s your birthday and dalton wanted to make it special.

warnings: eating, mostly fluff & smut (making out, thigh riding). 18+ NO MINORS.

word count: 2730

gifs credits: me @/gyllenhaalstories / divider credits: @/firefly-graphics

notes: today is my birthday and i am, for the fourth year in a row, making it everyone’s problem with a (very boring) self indulgent fic. 🎈 thank you for reading & REMEMBER TO REBLOG!

The dock master waved at you when you passed by. You did not leave him enough time to repeat his speech about watching out for the damn crocs like a broken record. You had visited the Glass Key Marina so many times since meeting Dalton, one could think the old man would spare you the lecture. Whatever. This time, you ignored him. You stormed towards the wooden pier on a mission.

Dalton, now confident in Billy and Reef's abilities to handle the unruly patrons on their own (if they remembered to lift with their knees), allowed himself a night off from time to time. The pay as the bouncer of the roadhouse supported him plenty anyway. He did not splurge much, judging by the fishing box overflowing with stacks of cash. When he did spend his money, he would buy all the books Charlie recommended to him or he would treat you to his new favourite food, conch chowder.

You were usually the first person to know about his sporadic vacations, except for today. You drove to the roadhouse and Laura greeted you with a perplexed smile as to why you were there without Dalton. Frankie walked down the stairs from her office and expressed the same level of confusion. "Dalton called, said he's sick. I think the boat dreams are getting to him. Took him long enough." She explained before helping her employees to get the bar ready for another night. Dalton, sick? You stormed out of the bar with the same determination that made you beeline to The Boat.

"There you are." Dalton, who sat on the railing of the boat, stood up and turned around to greet you. The look on your face, painted with surprise, satisfied him, it was worth spending the entire afternoon decorating his corner of the marina. "Happy birthday."

You stood on a creaky wood plank and took in the scene. Orange balloons matched the colours of the sky as the early sunset reflected on the water. There were garlands and streamers, basically anything that could make the dock look festive. You scoffed at the Happy Thanksgiving banner attached to the back of the boat that clashed with the rest.

Dalton quickly justified. "I know... 'Was all Charlie could find." He worked on the ribbon of the balloon he had previously secured on the railing and held on it tight. He raised his leg to get off the boat, but you interrupted.

"I appreciate the thought. This looks so..." You spun on your heels and admired the decorations for a few more seconds. "This looks really nice. But that still won't get me to climb on that thing. It's literally sinking." You pointed at the rusty boat that the dock master constantly referred to as a frying pan. You wholeheartedly agreed with the older man.

"It's not sinking." He leaped from the boat to the dock. The tone of his voice failed to convince you. "... Yet." You both nodded in agreement. Not yet. Soon enough, Dalton would be taking a nap with the crocodile.

You let him come to you.

He tilted his head, eyes squinting at you. "You know, those little footsteps of yours sounded furious. Everything okay?" He clenched his jaw, already bracing up for bad news. It was all he seemed to attract: bad news.

"I should be asking you! Are you okay? I went to the bar and Frankie said you were sick."

"I don't get sick." He shook his head lightly.

"Then why did she tell me that?"

"Oh, I asked her to." He marked a pause, as if that was enough information. You pressed him to grant you with more details. "I thought it was a good excuse." There was a hint of pride in his grin.

"A good excuse that worried me a lot." Your attempt at reprimanding him failed miserably, especially when his grin widened while he stepped closer to you.

Dalton carefully tied the ribbon of the balloon around your right wrist. He then flicked the balloon, watching it bop. "Charlie and I have been planning this for a little while. Couldn't find a proper banner in time." His chin pointed at the Thanksgiving wishes.

"You can say something cheesy to make up for it." You suggested with a chuckle.

"I'm thankful that you're born?" Although he said it like a question, he was certain in the sincerity behind his words.

"That does the job." You both exchanged a moment of laughter. "Thank you for taking the time to decorate for my birthday."

"There's more." He guided you off the dock and through the makeshift path to the beach, always hovering a hand over your lower back to make sure he would be quick to react if you fell.

You let Dalton walk by the shore. Although you did not mind feeling the water run over your feet and ankles, he had insisted enough times that it was safer for you to stay on the other side. So you just let him do what he wanted. Your hand brushed over his a few times and you caught sight of the smirk on his lips.

He also noticed your head was turned towards the water so he pulled you to stand in front of him. He lost no time to hold your hand when you reached behind to grab his. Dalton mouthed a quiet wow when he took in just how beautiful you looked with the pink sunset sky.

Things were simple with Dalton. He did not talk much about what lead him to Glass Key, but you learned enough snippets of his life to know he wanted things to remain this way: simple. He liked the way you weaved yourself through the routine he built since working at the roadhouse. You'd visit before work, at work, after... You would hang out at the bookstore with Charlie, you would sit by the bar with Laura. It all felt simple. He did not hide his appreciation for the time you shared. He showed honesty in his intentions with you when a kiss turned into a lot more one too many times. Plenty of whispered praises, plenty of love filled gazes. You took it one day at a time with Dalton. And today was a special day in more ways than one.

Dalton bumped against you when you stopped walking abruptly at the sight of the makeshift picnic set up. Beach towels laid on the sand and held in place by a bunch of rocks and a pretty conch shell. It looked a little funky but he knew you could not care less. "After my first shift at the bar, Frankie told me this whole sales pitch about the place." He let go of your hand so you could wander towards the beach towels. "She said this was a beautiful spot to have a drink with someone special." Frankie was talking about the roadhouse, not the beach at the back of the marina but... It was close enough.

"She must be right." You sat down on the towel, Dalton joined you. He attempted to say something else, but the balloon floating in the evening breeze distracted him. You watched him intently as he untied the ribbon from your wrist and attached it to the handle of the cooler.

You exchanged a smile and enjoyed more of the sunset. You wondered to yourself how people could live in a beautiful place such as this and forget to pay attention. How could someone get used to a view like this? You certainly could never. You knew Dalton felt the same.

And Dalton knew what you were thinking about. He had travelled quite a bit, both for work and to escape it. He faced the same reflection time after time. "I don't know." He broke the silence, answering your unspoken question. "Maybe they don't have the right person by their side to remind them to appreciate the moment."

"I like the sound of that." You shifted closer to him and his hand slid along your lower back to find its place on your hip. "It's romantic."

"Wait 'til you hear about what I baked for your birthday..." He let out a small grunt when he stretched his arm towards the cooler to pull it closer.

"You can bake?"

"Nope." He opened the cooler and tilted in your direction. "But Charlie can." Kind of. He let you take a peak inside to admire the cupcakes that he prepared with the teenager and with Stephen on supervision duty.

You found it so endearing how he formed a bond with Charlie. Dalton even grew to like her comparisons to western novels and cowboy boots wearing broody heroes. You leaned in to admire the desserts and chuckled at the sight. "They're all squished."

"Shit." Dalton whispered at the sight of the dozen of misshapen cupcakes. He pulled out the tray and set it on the beach towel. He selected one that sort of held its shape during the transport from Charlie and Stephen's house to the beach. "I swear, I frosted them all nice for you." He grinned apologetically.

You grabbed the cupcake from his hand and took a bite. You swallowed thickly and tried to contain a funny face. "These are..."

"Burnt as hell." He stole a bite from the same cupcake and grimaced. He looked down at the rest of the desserts and began to explain that he was sorry, that he really tried to make your birthday special.

You interrupted him with a kiss on the corner of his mouth. "There was frosting." It was not entirely false, but you hoped this would stop the train of thoughts.

He still looked unsure, he worried that he had messed up.

So you kissed him again, on the same spot. You would usually let him lead and make the the first move so he would not feel trapped, but you wanted to reassure him. "Spending time with you is a nice gift on its own. So this?" You gestured around you. "This is great. And this." You held his head in your hands for a few moments, waiting for his lips to curl into a smile. "It's all I need to have a good time."

The smile stayed glued on his face even when you pulled away. You reached for the cupcake again and Dalton took it from your hand to put it back on the tray, slamming the cooler shut for good.

"You can't waste the cupcakes, you worked so hard to bake them for me." You would have eaten a couple of the sweets had he not stopped you, you wanted Dalton to know you liked the gesture.

"Then the crocodile can have them." You nodded, agreeing with his idea.

"Maybe he'll spare you for another night."

The sound of yours and Dalton's laughter blended together as one. "That's exactly what I was thinking." He replied.

"I know I just said I'm having a good time, but..." You crawled to kneel between his legs. You sat back, keeping a safe distance to let Dalton decide. "We can make it even better."

He considered the implications of your offer. Now, he felt like he was the one being celebrated. You were a real treat, kneeling before him with a gaze he had seen many times before. You wanted more... You wanted him. Dalton leaned in, glancing between your eyes and your lips.

You let him come closer until your mouths met in a gentle kiss, mirroring what you did moments ago.

His nose brushed against yours while he left you longing for another kiss. The small nod of his head told you everything you needed to know.

You erased the distance completely and kissed him again with your head tilted to the side.

Dalton's fingertips caressed along your arms and guided you to wrap them around his neck. He deepened the kiss when he felt one of your hands cradling the back of his head.

You hummed when his hands began to explore your body. The gentle touching up and down your back grew in eagerness.

Dalton's hands gripped firmly on your hips, pulling you closer. He placed a hand under your thigh and positioned you how he wanted. He took it slow, one step at a time. His hand travelled back up to the curve of your ass that he squeezed a little bit harsher than you expected.

The whimper you let out only encouraged him to keep going while his feverish touches fuelled you to take this further. Your tongue traced his lips before he parted his mouth open.

Your tongues danced together while he let go of you briefly to unbutton his shirt. Immediately after, your hands were all over him. Your fingertips followed the shape of his collarbone down to the curve of his pecs to end on the valley between his abs. You printed each and every detail of Dalton in your mind.

Your loving touch spread goosebumps on his skin, or perhaps it was the breeze getting cooler. The sunset reached its last instants, the sun appeared to be swallowed by the ocean far beyond the horizon. The marina was peaceful, but not quiet. Soft whimpers and grunts filled the silence as the waves slowly hit the sand.

You paused to catch your breath, Dalton could not take his eyes off your kiss swollen lips. "Wanna make you feel good." He whispered against your lips before leaning in again to let his tongue invade your mouth. His hands rested on your hips, squeezing the flesh and making your body move back and forth.

You ached from the lack of direct contact with him, you needed to feel him. But, again, you wanted to respect how far he seemed willing to go.

So he put his words into actions. Dalton made you straddle his thigh, trying to adjust the best he could to make sure you were comfortable. With his hands on your ass again, he began to make you grind on him. At first the movements were tentative, he let you adjust to the friction between your core and the clothes. But when you moaned at his ear, he could no longer hold back.

You rocked your hips back and forth, succumbing to the ever-growing hunger for more. More of this heated intimacy, more of Dalton's warm skin on yours... More.

Every time a door opened, Dalton closed it by repeating that you were a nice person, that you did not want to know him in that way, that you did not want to get close to him.

Yet, you waited. You showed him you had all the patience in the world for him. You showed that you were not out to get him, that you simply wanted to make Dalton feel good too.

You succeeded. The more you waited and reassured him that you would respect his boundaries, the more Dalton wanted to explore what lied beyond those limits.

"I don't want to stop." You murmured at his ear, trailing kisses from his ear and along his jaw until your lips connected again.

"I don't wanna stop either." His grip tightened on your hips, forcing you to slow down. "But since you refuse to get on the boat with me..."

You remained categorical, he would never convince you to step foot in that death trap. "We can go back to my place."

"Oh yeah?" Dalton kept you immobile, pressed down on his thigh. Your whine of complaint sounded like music to his ears. "You think you can wait that long?" It was quite the drive between the beach and your home. If either of you had the genuine intention to leave, you would have done in a while ago. "I'm not too sure about that."

You scoffed at his assumption. "Can you wait?"

Dalton answered your question by capturing your lips with his in a rough kiss. He slowly, carefully, helped you to lay on your back. He guided your legs apart to make space, his gaze meeting yours while his hands caressed your thighs. He let the tension build, he needed you to give him one more sign that you wanted this just as much as he did. When your hips bucked forward, your body pressing more against his, he grinned. "I've waited long enough."

[czennieszn]

the magic of christmastime | l. castellan ❆

part 1: s(mitten) for you, luke castellan

child of aphrodite reader (Y/N) x luke castellan (fluff, a bit of angst, some anxiety)

It's Christmastime, the season of magic, miracles, and snow in the city. Celebrating their first Christmas together as a couple, Luke and Y/N are eager to participate in Christmas traditions. And what better way to get in Christmas spirit than going shopping in the Big Red Apple, the splendid New York City. There is only one problem, getting the permission of Chiron and Mr. D.

w.c. 2.5K (let me know if you would fancy a part 2!

______________________________________________________________

I love Christmastime. From the flurry of people that crowd the malls of New York City, to the actual flurries of soft white snow that encase the concrete, making the Big Apple look like a giant snow globe, it's safe to say that Christmastime sparked a little bit of magic in you. Every year after Thanksgiving, a silent countdown would begin; the countdown until Christmas. Thirty days. Twenty-nine days. Twenty-eight days. Time didn't move any slower. But during these thirty days, the Christmas traditions got you through the month.

Baking and decorating Christmas cookies, wearing matching sweaters, drinking hot cocoa, and watching Christmas movies on your old DVD player, were things that you were anticipating doing this Christmas. Except, this Christmas would be different. It would be a little bit more magical, because this Christmas, you had the golden-eyed curly-haired Hermes boy with a crooked smile to spend it with. And you were delighted.

"Luke..." you gently nudged your boyfriend, teasing him with a smile. He was lying on your bed with his hands stretched out, your monthly subscription to Vogue magazine in his hands. Even under the dimly lit florescent fairy lights, Luke looked magical.  His lips were pursed in concentration, and his faint freckles were dotted across his nose. Eyebrows furrowed, he diverged his attention to you.

"Yes Y/N..." he responded in an equally teasing tone. Turning his head, you softly played with his curls as he rested in your lap. He twinkled his eyes like a newborn puppy, a look he knew was impossible to resist. You tried to endure the nonchalant disposition on your face, but the corner of your mouth gave you away. Smiling gently, you looked away and giggled. The effect this boy had on you couldn't be explained by science, it couldn't be explained by the gods. Gods, you were so in love with each other.

"What if we-" you began to say. He jokingly rolled his eyes. "I can't wait for another one of your "grand ideas" again Y/N. The last time you started with "what if we", we ended up in trouble with Mr. D and had to spend two months on stable duty," Luke laughed.

"No wait I'm serious! I promise we won't have to shovel horse shit ever again!" You said, trying not to laugh. 

"That was miserable, never again," Luke mocked you.

"I'm genuinely being serious, here me out!" You playfully eyed him.

"Okay Princess, what is it?" Luke whispered as he stared at your lips.

"What if we go into the city for some Christmas shopping..." you trailed off, unsure whether he would be willing to go with you. 

"Hmm," Luke closed the magazine and returned it to the magazine rack that Aphrodite gave you for your sixteenth birthday. You remember how elated when your mother met with you on your sweet sixteenth and winked at you, urging you to pursue Luke. Now here you were, two years later, with her advice fully followed through. 

There was a pregnant pause as Luke played with your fingers. "I hope you don't mean Christmas shopping at the camp gift shop," he jokingly said.  You shook your head quickly while you laughed, your curtain bangs swinging from side to side. "I've kind of had enough of the Stoll brothers and their practical jokes on these not-so-practical gifts." Rolling your eyes, you recalled last year when the Stoll brothers had slipped you two love potions, giving you googly eyes for Chiron and Luke groveling at Mr. D. It was a whole fiasco, leaving you and Luke thoroughly embarrassed for a minimum of two weeks.

"Noooo," you dragged on the word as you tilted your head. "I mean like, what if we went into the city to go shopping? Wouldn't that be fun," you suggested. "Do you think Chiron would let us?" You lightly breathed.

"Well, there's no way we'll know if we don't ask," Luke grinned. 

"Wait so you'd be willing to go shopping with me?" you held your breath. 

"Of course, anything for you Princess," Luke caressed your face. You were leaping with joy, and you practically ran out of the Aphrodite cabin to stalk Chiron for his permission. 

"Let's go, let's go!" You attempted to drag Luke as he groaned. "I'm comfy here, can we wait until tomorrow to find Chiron," Luke attacked you with his puppy-like eyes. Nope, you weren't going to fall for that now, no matter how impossible it was. 

"Please Luke we should go now, tomorrow morning is in twelve hours, something bad could happen and he may not let us go," you flashed him your best smile in retaliation. Playfully rolling his eyes, he tugged your hand and you fell onto the mattress. Squealing, you lay on top of him, what a goof. But you are so into this goof. Cheekily smiling, he smothered you in kisses: on your face, on your neck, on your collarbone. Peppering all surface areas of your body with love. 

You were violently blushing, turning a shade of red from your cheeks down to your neck at the sudden PDA. All of a sudden, you were self-conscious of your siblings in the cabin. But, they certainly paid you two no attention as they were used to the displays of affection. Awake and animated, Luke's eyes momentarily flickered animalistically, but they quickly returned to his typical soft-golden retriever demeanor. You both knew what he wanted at that moment, but given the circumstances, ew, gross.

"Okay," he whispered, satisfied at the reaction he got out of you. "Let's go," and he tugged you up suddenly as you guys ran out the door. The run eventually turned into the light jog because (a) you guys had just finished dinner and didn't want indigestion and (b) you had already exercised enough for today (the Apollo kids had run an archery obstacle course that was grueling, leaving a dull ache in your arms and feet)

"Chiron!" Luke called out into the distance, as we saw a faint outline of the centaur's shadow. He was going into the big house, probably to put curlers in his tail before he retired to his bed for the evening (Grover's words, not mine). Before he disappeared into the shadows, he gestured to us, letting us know to enter the Big House. Panting, as you were nearly exhausted at this point (don't get me wrong, I'm not unathletic, but the distance from the Aphrodite cabin to the Big House is quite far) At this point, you were going to get appendicitis before you could step into the Big Apple.

"Luke, wait a minute," you said, running out of breath. For a powerful demigod, you certainly had limited endurance.

"Are you okay Y/N," Luke dramatically gasped as he held your hand.

"I'm perfectly okay, just a tad out of shape," you sighed.

"Well Princess, just a few more steps and then we are there," Luke softly replied. Silently nodding your head to Luke's words of encouragement, you two approached the Big House. Unconsciously, you began to peel your cuticles, and Luke gently pried your hands away from your delicate, beaten skin. You deeply appreciated when he did things like that, paying attention to every detail, focusing on you, and double-checking that you were healthy and mentally okay.

The waning crescent that brightly illuminated the night sky depicted your mood; the fading of a bright idea in an endless world. This feeling wasn't new to you, and you could feel your energy waning. All the bravado that you had previously shown to Luke had wilted. Instead, you were now left uneasy, waiting for Chiron and Dionysus to chagrin you for your dangerously silly idea. A sinking pit of anxiety settled in your stomach. Damn, for how often my anxiety just shows up, it may as well start paying rent, you thought, trying to ease the war of emotions swimming in your mind.

Are you sure that you are okay? Luke bent down his head so he could be at eye level with you.

Yes, hopefully, you silently blinked back. He understood the scope of your anxiety, and during the especially bad days when you were left hugging yourself and biting at your nails, he would hug you instead and play with your fingers. Besides being a great boyfriend, he was an even more understanding person, and you loved that part of him.

Alright, gametime, Luke winked to you, as you two crossed the boundary between fun! rainbows! camp! and imminent doom featuring half a horse and an overgrown drunk toddler. The floorboard creaked as you two entered the Big House. Mustering up the remainder of your confidence, you took a deep breath and entered a book room where Chiron and Dionysus were sitting.

"We have a proposal for-," you gestured before being rudely interrupted by Mr. D slurping his diet coke. He raised an eyebrow, challenging you to continue. You momentarily glared at him before resuming your composure.

"Like I said, Luke and I have been thinking of-," you continued before being rudely interrupted for the second time by the overgrown diet coke-addicted toddler.

"Please, Dionysus, respect for the demigods for once," Chiron rolled his eyes, partially annoyed at Mr. D for acting childish, and possibly because we had interrupted his nighttime routine. Hey, if someone asked me to do something if I was in the middle of a manicure, I would also be thoroughly annoyed.

"To state the point that was never said," you pointedly glared at Mr. D and he tilted his head back at you to say fair point, "Luke and I were thinking of going into the city for one day to do some Christmas shopping."

The room was silent. All you could hear was the crackling of the fireplace, and even then as every log burned a hiss of malice escaped the chimney's base. Then Dionysus let out a big guffaw, startling everyone in the room.

"Oh my gosh you're joking are you? You came all the way to tell us that?" Mr. D gasped for breath and wiped his tears as he was laughing too hard. 

Dead silence echoed (can silence echo?) throughout the room. We were serious (for once). Mr. D could sense that no one else in the room was in a playful mood, and soon shut his mouth, a rare occasion. Under different circumstances, I would have probably pointed that out to Luke and given him a sly look, but tonight was not the night.

"Wait, you two are serious," Mr. D gestured to both of us while giving us both a pointed look of disappointment.

"Please Mr. D, we promise to be safe-" Luke began.

"For two senior counselors who have been at camp for a very long time, might I add, you two surely haven't gained any knowledge for all the time that you've been here," Mr. D frowned. 

"Please, we haven't gone anywhere in years. We promise to be safe and take any precautions needed," you pleaded. You just wanted this one thing. It might have been selfish, putting your lives in danger for a silly whimsical idea of yours, but it would make your first Christmas spent with Luke magical.

"You two are year-long campers for a reason," Mr. D firmly stated. He was correct in that respect, powerful campers like you two attracted monsters from far and wide. With your powerful charm speaking abilities and ability to create illusions of someone's greatest desires, and Luke's incredible sword fighting abilities, and not to mention his ability to bend the air in ripples as a traveling method, you two were quite a dynamic couple.

"Chiron," You pleaded, as you turned to Chiron. Chiron seemed deep in thought, as he pensively stroked his goatee (do I call it a horse-tee? centaur-tee?).

"These two of our campers are some of our best campers. They know how to adequately defend themselves in any situation tossed their way, am I correct?" Chiron turned to you two, the right corner of his mouth fighting a smile. You had never been so grateful for Chiron's existence until that moment (putting aside that time that he taught you the full extent of your illusional abilities, that was amazing of him).

"Yes, yes Chiron," Luke said, as you vigorously nodded your head.

"Yes, we will carry golden drachmas and Iris message you in case anything goes wrong," I tried to persuade them. "Not that we will inherently cause anything to go wrong," you trailed off.

"We will also bring weapons, just in case anything happens," Luke jumped in right away. "We will take care of ourselves, we promise."

"Think of this like a test, if we come back, we live, if not, well, we die. If we can't even handle the city that surrounds us, if we get called to a quest, well, that means we are screwed," you joked, also not joking at the same time. Hoping that this would persuade Mr. D, you gave Chiron a quick thumbs up, a symbol of your gratitude for having trust in you two.

"Hmm," Mr. D hummed for a while. You hoped he wasn't asleep, it was past that groggy toddler's bedtime.

"Well I permit Luke Castellan and Y/N L/N to spend the day in New York City tomorrow, granted they come back with gifts for me as well," Chiron winked.

"Oh yes, yes!" You excitedly said, a wide smile spread across your face.

"Of course, we will buy gifts for you Chiron, and for you as well Mr. D," Luke continued.

"Hmm, alright. And you two promise that you will stay safe?" Mr. D questioned.

"Yes sir," you two responded stoically.

"And within reach at all times?" Mr. D continued.

"Yes sir," you two nodded.

"Well I permit Lukas Clarkson and Y/nN La/N to spend the day in New York City tomorrow, granted they come back with gifts for me as well," Mr. D retorted, horribly butchering our names. Neither Luke nor I corrected him, fearful that he could suddenly have a change of heart and change his mind.

"Thank you so so so much!" You grinned.

"Have a great night!" Luke said, as he practically dragged you out the door.

"We did it! Oh my gosh, we are so good!" You excitedly hugged Luke the moment you exited the Big House. Hugging you and lifting you in the air, you two laughed joyously as you two landed on the lawn. Landing on top of Luke, you played with his hair. You hadn't left Camp Half-Blood without your mother, who would whisk you to some location in New York City for a day-trip gossip session.

"We did amazing, Princess," Luke smiled up at you. He squeezed your waist, causing a tornado of butterflies to travel up your navel.

"Well, we better get a long night's sleep tonight. We have an extremely long day tomorrow," you shyly smiled.

"Great idea babe, but first," Luke cheekily grinned, as he flipped you upside down. Startled, your eyes widened as Luke began to unabashedly pepper kisses across your face, neck, and collarbone. You didn't care that you two were in public, you were just grateful to have a wonderful boyfriend and wonderful people who could trust you two. You couldn't wait for tomorrow. 

comment to be a part of the taglist for part 2!

xoxo, cznszn 𐙚₊❤︎

© czennieszn on tumblr. do not repost, translate, plagiarize, or claim any of my works as your own.

[killthewhisperingart]

Baby It's Cold Outside

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader

Word Count: 1,208

Summary: For the first few years of you and Bradley's relationship, a mission would pull him away right as the air started to chill. This typically would lead to you spending Christmas alone; not that you minded that is. But now it's the first Christmas you can spend together, and Bradley insists on making it as good as he possibly can.

This is a part of @sailor-aviator 's Christmas Writing Challenge, using the prompt "Eggnog"

Warning(s): Fluff and hints of Angst

I am an 18+ blog.

A/N: This is my first writing challenge

It was you and Bradley's first Christmas together. You had been dating for a few years, but every year he was conveniently placed on a mission during the holidays. You had never truly enjoyed the holidays regardless, and the two of you would celebrate a different way when he finally got home. In fact, it wasn't specific to the end of the year holidays. There were times when Valentines Day was celebrated two months later, birthdays celebrated six weeks in advance.

Knowing this was the first time the two of you would be celebrating Christmas together on the day, Bradley was excited. The house was decorated, the scent of cinnamon wafting through the air, only interrupted by the smell of the pine tree he had bought the day after Thanksgiving. A wreath hung on the door, and lights were perfectly placed on the outside of the house. You barely did anything, he insisted you relax.

Though, he did start to run into some issues. Issues you were absolutely not allowed to help with. First, the lights he had pulled from the attic, were duds, which he did not know until after he hung them on the Christmas tree. One trip to the store later, he comes home and drops an entire box of ornaments. It seemed like every venture, had a surprise for Bradley.

So now you're here, sitting atop the counter as Bradley stands in front of the stove. His phone is open to a webpage explaining an eggnog recipe, while your laptop is sitting to the side with a YouTube video of someone making eggnog. The ingredients are scattered across the counter, a bottle of rum half empty, and a carton of eggs with several cracked shells still remaining.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" You ask, peaking over at the mess in front of him. "That's... a lot of rum."

"Yes." He insists, turning to look at you, brows furrowed. "Don't you trust your man?"

"I trust my man to fly planes," You pull your lip up and raise an eyebrow at the thick concoction in front of him. "You don't even like eggnog, you can throw in the towel whenever you want."

"No." He rolls his eyes dramatically, tossing a sprinkle of nutmeg into the liquid.

It's not that you didn't trust Bradley in the kitchen. He had been living by himself for years and knew how to cook a decent meal long before you entered his life. Hell, you preferred him in the kitchen rather than yourself a majority of the time. But as you looked at the boiling pot, you started to question his abilities.

"See?" He turns the burner off, motioning towards the pot. "Now it just has to..." He leans down to squint at the phone, then turns with a smile. "Refrigerate overnight." He grins wide, eyes closed as he raises his arms, clearly expecting praise.

"Mmhm," You hop off the counter, kissing his cheek, and as his eyes open widely you're already standing over the stove. "Maybe I judged you too harshly-"

"You did." He hums.

"But, we won't really know until tomorrow." You spin around to look at him.

Christmas Day hit like a train. You slid out of bed earlier than what was typical for you, placing a soft kiss to Bradley's cheek before going about your morning routine. Coffee was replaced with a mug of hot cocoa as you tucked your legs beneath you on the couch, making sure you were the first to message, "Merry Christmas!" in your family's group chat.

You sigh, adjusting the throw blanket over yourself as a chill runs through your home. Your hands are warm as they're wrapped around your mug, the sound of Frank Sinatra echoing from the record player.

"Merry Christmas,"

You turn to look over your shoulder at Bradley as he comes from the direction of the kitchen, a mug in each hand. His hair is untamed and his sweatpants hanging low on his hips, as if he rolled out of bed to immediately search for you.

"Merry Christmas honey." You whisper back, leaning into the kiss he plants on your cheek. You put your hot cocoa on the coffee table, immediately accepting the mug of eggnog he deposits into your fingers. He sits close to you, moving your legs to sit atop his thighs. You clink your mugs, before both taking a sip of the homemade eggnog.

The liquid burns your tongue and feels like razors down your throat as you swallow. You try to hide your cringe as your nose scrunches, delivering Bradley a half baked smile. He is worse at hiding his distaste, immediately coughing, and spitting it back into the mug.

"It's good!" You admonish, chuckling as he wipes his hand from his moustache to his chin.

"Honey no it is not!" He scrunches his face, setting the mug on the table, forcefully taking yours and placing it next to his.

"No, baby it's the best eggnog I've ever had," You giggle, scooting closer, kissing his cheek.

"You're just saying that," He looks up at you through his eyelashes. His eyes shine, reflecting the light from the Christmas tree, his eyebrows are pinched slightly. "I'm sorry."

"For the eggnog?" You scoff with a chuckle, kissing his cheek. "I don't even like eggnog that much, it doesn't matter."

"It's not the eggnog." He sighs, leaning his head against your shoulder. "It's the lights, the ornaments, the ice on the porch-"

"Where is all of this coming from?" You interrupt softly, running a hand through his hair.

"It's our first Christmas." He reminds you, as if this makes everything obvious. You stare blankly at him for a moment, eyebrows knitted together as you silently ask for him to continue his thought. "And I keep ruining it."

"What?" You furrow your eyebrows, not understanding where this came from. "How are you ruining it?"

"I keep messing up."

You exhale, pulling him closer.

"I don't think you're ruining anything."

"Baby, I keep-"

"Bradley." You admonish, he lifts his head to look at you. "Do you know what I've done in these past few years, during Christmas?" He slowly shakes his head. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" He repeats incredulously.

"I haven't done a damn thing for Christmas since before we were even together." You admit, a bit sheepish. "It never felt right, to celebrate without you. So I never decorated, all I ever did was call my family. And I let you believe that I was just really quick at putting the decorations away."

"Honey-"

"I say this, not to make you feel bad, but," You exhale. "Honey. This is the best Christmas I've had in years. Because you're here." You hold his jaw in your hands, smiling as you stare into his warm eyes. His eyes flutter close, his lashes against his warm skin as you lean in, kissing him softly. "You have made this the best Christmas ever, because you are with me."

"Can't imagine being anywhere else..." He whispers against your cheek, his hot breath tickling your skin. "I miss you when I'm gone, and my mind is filled with you when I fly."

"I'm glad you're here." You smile.

"Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Bradley."

[cockdestroyer32]

it's rotten work.

peter b. parker x fem!reader

word count: 2615

summary: Peter's been a wreck after his divorce with MJ. Thankfully, you're there to look after him.

aka me just fantasizing about taking care of peter b. parker when he needed it and giving him the love he so very deserves.

a/n: yeah I write abt this loser now

Two months. That’s how long it’s been since Peter and MJ’s divorce. Two months of countless pizza orders and late-night fast food trips. You tried your best, of course, most days making lunch and dinner for Peter, but it still wouldn’t help his insurmountable need to shove oily fries drenched in high amounts of salt down his throat. Though he would gladly take them. His hand finding yours on the table, giving you a knowing look with his sad, tired eyes that you’d gotten used to seeing so damn often on him. His own way of a thank you. Two months of coming home to Peter’s place to find him sprawled out on his couch, his head lying on his own arm and still wearing shoes. The TV would be on playing the most random channel. He’d be staring at it, but if you turned it off he wouldn’t even blink. Two months of trying your best to be there for him.

You were still getting used to the new apartment. For as long as you could remember, Peter and MJ lived in the same house for the past 15 years. You’d gotten used to it. It was nice. Two stories, wooden floors, big dining room. They’d have Thanksgivings there, it was almost a tradition. The turkey was served and everyone gathered around, talking and laughing about nothing. Peter was happy then, at least most of the time.

This apartment was none of that. It was way smaller, one small cube covering kitchen, living room and bedroom, with a room to the left including the tiny bathroom- which has a bathtub? You never quite understood that, what is it with Americans and putting bathtubs in their already tiny bathrooms?- not to mention it was unkept. The dishes practically overflowing, two pizza boxes, one awkwardly thrown to the counter, not even closed, its gaping mouth allowing you to spy the damp spots the hot pizza left on the cardboard box, and the other shoved inside the trash, which was also nearly overflowing. A barely-eaten cereal bowl rested on the sad excuse of a dining table, some colorful circles creeping out of the white liquid. It was more milk than cereal. And both ingredients also stood there, not put back on their respective places. 

Peter does not have enough money to just waste perfectly good milk. 

You grab the carton and open the refrigerator, the light illuminating the kitchen/living room/bedroom area. God, even the refrigerator was sad. An already open can of soda standing lonely to the side, feeling unsafe on the grids of the shelf, a container of cheese at the top, four eggs to the side, and untouched lettuce to the middle. You place the milk inside, now making company to the lonely soda, and shut the refrigerator door, making your way back to the couch. As you do you pass by the wall of the apartment that includes Peter’s attempt at decorating, one only possible after much pleading by you that the place might feel more like home if he did so. 

They were pictures. Pictures on the wall. Four to be specific. All taped to the wall with double-sided tape. They were all scattered like corn and asymmetrical. How and why did he manage to do that? You don’t know. Was it awful? Yes. 

But you were still excited when you’d shown up to his place and found them there. 

This was only a fraction of the pictures he had back in his place with MJ. Their old living room had once been full of pictures of them and the memories they made together. But these were the ones he took and remained. The middle picture was one of you and Peter, back when you traveled to Barbados. You stood behind him, hugging him with one arm from behind, your chin resting on his shoulder as you both smiled at the camera. The one to the side was a picture he took of you on your birthday, you wore one of those birthday headbands, a huge smile spreading across your face as you saw one of your other friends bringing you your cake. It was slightly blurry, not one you’d usually have on your wall but beautiful regardless. When you’d seen that picture, your finger reached out to touch it, surprised it was there, and you turned around to look at Peter, who refused to look at you, clearly embarrassed. The third one is a picture of May, 2 years before she died, her grey hair perfectly framing her smiling face, and the fourth one of Peter and May, sitting on her couch, his arm wrapped around her shoulder and his head on hers.

Peter sits on the couch, his ankles extended out, looking like he wanted to trip someone. He wore the same grey sweatpants he always wore, and his sweatshirt was stained. The bags under his eyes were prominent, and his eyebrows were furrowed. His gaze was fixated on the TV, but he actually seemed to be paying attention this time, so that’s progress…right?

You threw your body on the couch beside his, letting out a sigh and looking at the screen. He was watching a documentary on…pandas? You don’t comment on it. Or on his stained shirt. Or on the cereal bowl. Or on the milk. You just stare at the TV.

“I’m fine,” He says, his voice raspy.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.”

You don’t reply. He’s used to you asking the same question, and you’re used to hearing the same answer. You both know he’s not fine, that he hasn’t been fine in a while, but that there’s not much you can do but let time pass, to let the wound heal as best as it can, leaving only a scar, that at least won’t sting as much anymore. You know Peter. You’ve known him for years. You know his moods, you know what makes him laugh, what makes him angry, his mannerisms and what they mean, his favorite foods, his favorite flavor of cake…you know when he needs love. 

Except for on days like this. On days where he’s grumpy and barely speaks at all. Days where his arms are crossed and he’s always tapping his foot. Sometimes he just wants to be left alone, sometimes he wants as much physical affection as possible. You don’t know. 

So, you leave a hint.

You place your hand next to his on the couch- they have always been so rough, so calloused, yet always felt nice- and you lift your pinky, it grazing across the back of his hand. Up, and down. You do that once before stopping it at the bottom of his hand, just next to his pinky. If he wants to take it, he can take it, if not, he doesn’t have do anything. 

You feel the back of his hand being taken away from the tip of your finger, before his palm finds yours and he entwines your fingers together, giving your hand a light squeeze. Yours is smaller than his, and certainly softer. You don’t look at each other, you don’t have to. You keep your eyes on the panda eating bamboo and feel his thumb caress the side of your hand. 

If that wasn’t clear, it’s been a rough two months. And you’ve been there for rough months. You were there for when Peter and MJ would have tough arguments, for when being Spider-Man started being just a little too much for him, for when he couldn’t save everyone, for when Aunt May died. But this? This was bad. Almost as much as May’s death. He just…fell into a hole. And you don’t blame him either. He’d been married to Mary Jane for fifteen years. Fifteen years. Having to separate from someone you spent more than a decade with must be one of the hardest things ever, and you couldn’t exactly say you understood.

It wasn’t all bad though. One time, you decided to watch a movie together. You let Peter choose the movie. Horror. You were never quite used to it, but were you gonna say no to him? No, and he knew it. About 40 minutes in, there was a scene where the main character was inspecting his house after having heard a strange noise. He walks around for a while, letting the tension build until suddenly the monster rises behind him. It’d been about 11pm at that point and you let out a loud yelp, followed by your hand slapping over your mouth as you realize what you did. You did a slow turn towards Peter, finding his eyebrows raised and his mouth slightly agape, before he burst out into laughter. The sound rang through your ears like your favorite song. God, it’d been so long since you heard that laugh. If you knew it’d happen you’d grabbed your phone and started recording it immediately. But at that point it’d been enough, and you couldn’t help but start laughing too.

Now, you feel Peter’s grip slowly loosening on yours and you turn your head towards him. His eyes are closed, and his eyebrows are more relaxed now, though he’s not asleep just yet. From this angle you could perfectly see his roman nose, the bridge sticking out in all of its wonder, and the little bend to the side, where he’d broken it so many times his healing factors had just given up. He hated it. You always loved it, and he knew it. You leaned in slightly.

“Pete…” You whisper, “Pete, let’s get you to bed.”

He murmured some nonsense. A chuckle leaves your lips and you reach for his arm.

“Pete, if you wanna sleep we gotta get you to bed, come on.”

“O…kay…” You get up from the couch and place both hands on his arms, motioning for him to get up. When he does he rests his head on yours, and you drape your arm over his shoulder, leading him to his bed. He drops his body on it and oh he looks adorable. His arms curved in front of him almost in a praying motion, and his knees slightly bent. You notice his shoes are still on and reach to take them off, he doesn’t even move as you do so, and you set them down neatly on the floor. You know what’s next, you’ve gotten used to it: you crawl on the bed beside him, and wrap an arm around him from behind, the other creeping from under his body so you can hug him properly. You bury your face on his shoulder and squeeze him tight, your legs lying just behind his. 

Peter likes being the little spoon. You wonder if he’s always been like this or if it was born out of an extreme need to receive the physical affection he lost after his divorce. Those thoughts are quickly brushed off but everlasting, you probably shouldn’t be thinking about that. This happens every night now, to the point Peter doesn’t sleep without you anymore. If you take too long to crawl into bed, he tells you in a groggy voice, “Come hereeeee…”

One time you got up in the middle of the night to drink some water, and in comes Peter, wearing his grey pajama shirt, rubbing his eyes as he sleepily asks you, “Why'd you go?”

The first time you fell asleep cuddled together was a little over a month ago. Peter’d been quiet that entire day and you left him alone, figuring he just wanted time for his thoughts, until eventually you lifted a gentle hand, resting it against his shoulder as you asked, “You alright? Wanna talk?” And a few minutes later you found yourself holding a sobbing Peter, his hands desperately clutching to your back as you rubbed his, his face pressed against your chest as his own heaved. Wet trailings ran down your body and made your shirt damp, trailings that’d grow salty and sticky on your skin, but that’d you pay no attention to. 

You don’t even know how long that lasted, you just held him for as long as he needed, until his weeping subsided and the sobs were replaced only by the shuddering breaths one gets after crying so desperately. Then even those went away, Peter’s breath completely evened out and calm. You noticed he was heavier in your arms, and whispered his name as you leaned your head down, looking for his face, only to be met with one of a sleeping Peter. His lashes were wet and eyes were shut and relaxed, as if he hadn’t just had a full breakdown in your arms. You stayed like this for a moment, wondering if he’d wake up, and knowing you didn’t have the heart to do it. Eventually you leaned back on the couch, your back resting against it as your head was placed awkwardly on its stiff arm. He slid down on your body a bit as you did, his face now at your stomach, and he tightened his grip and pressed his nose into your skin. You still don’t know if he remembered he did that.

And now Peter has you climbing into bed beside him every night, trying your best to envelop his body with yours even though your frame is much tinier.

You turn your head to him as you feel him shift and take a breath.

“I wanna…be big spoon…” You can barely make out the words due to his raspy mumbling, and before you could even process them, Peter was turning around and grabbing your arm, flipping you on your side as he wrapped his arms tightly around you. Tight as if to ensure you wouldn’t try to escape his grip.

Woah. Is this what MJ felt every night when she was with Peter? Again, probably not something you should be thinking about, but still. This? This comfortable? 

If you were MJ you would have never given up on this. Ever. No matter what.

God, he’s strong. I mean, you knew he was strong, he’s Spider-Man for crying out loud. But you’d never thought about how that came into play in moments like this, where he could wrap his arms around you with such a firm yet tender grip that it felt like absolutely nothing could tear you two apart.

Though you were still quite a bit frozen. Peter had never done that before. This was new and sudden. And slowly you could feel that information seep back into Peter’s presumably more awake mind as well, with the way he turned his head slowly to the left, and his body straightened and stiffened on your back.

“Uhh, is this okay?” He asked.

“Yeah, it’s alright,” You replied. He was probably awake right now, mortified by his own actions but too comfortable and scared to pull away. And so were you. So you placed your hand on his arm, and gently ran it back and forth, telling him you really were okay with this, and if anything you wanted him to keep it up. His body remained frozen for at least 3 seconds until he lifted his arm from under your hand, and placed his palm over it, enlacing your fingers together. He pressed your arm in the front of your body and buried his nose in your neck. It sent a few shivers down your spine, you won’t lie. But you just took a deep breath and toughed it out, closing your eyes as well and relaxing. His breath on your neck slowly lulled you to sleep.

Hopefully, this is your new night routine.

[goldenbuckyyy]

MATILDA

Summary: During the holiday season, Harry helps you realize that it’s okay to build your own family.

Pairings: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Word count: 3.5kish

Warnings: Mentions of past childhood neglect, slight smut mentioned, angst, crying, anything else?? Let me know!!

A/N: hi!!! Merry Christmas to all of you!! I wanted to post this earlier today, but ended up spending the holidays with my family! I got this request by someone anonymous and I loved the idea!! Hopefully you all do as well. Inspired by: “Matilda” by Harry Styles.

All mistakes are my own. Please do not repost or translate my fics on any other site nor this one.

I appreciate any likes, reblogs, messages, and interactions.

Masterlist

Today is the day before your birthday. 

It’s Christmas Eve. 

And you are not a fan of the holidays. 

You didn’t particularly enjoy any of them. 

Mostly because you’ve never had a chance to ever actually celebrate them. 

You’ve never had an Easter egg hunt on Easter Sunday. You’ve never popped loud fireworks on the 4th of July. You’ve never had a warm turkey dinner on Thanksgiving. You’ve never even decorated a Christmas Tree for Christmas holidays. 

You’ve never even had Christmas presents waiting for you under the tree on Christmas Morning. 

It doesn’t help the fact that your birthday is on Christmas Day. 

Every memory you had of a holiday was tainted with the background noise of your parents fighting and you crying yourself to sleep. 

One of your earliest memories was when you were eight and your godmother, Eva, gifted you a brand new pretty pink bicycle. You loved that bike from the moment you saw it. You remember the way your heart felt so full at that age and the overpowering feeling of excitement overcame you. 

You learned how to ride it with her cheering you on for your birthday, you remember laughing so loud in happiness that your belly hurt, and when you yelled for your mom to watch you… she was reading the newspaper and waved you away with her hand as she said “It’s no big deal.” 

You remember the instant dread you felt in the pit of your belly, the way your happiness was instantly stripped away from you, the way tears immediately filled your eyes which caused your vision to haze, your hands to shake, and it made you lose control of your brand new pretty bike. 

Then, you fell. You scraped your knees which turned into a bloody mess, bruising all your legs and arms, and you spent the entire time crying. Only Eva helped you. You remember hearing her scold your mother, but she didn’t care. 

The tainted memory stayed with you forever. The scar on your knees proves it. 

You never rode that bike again. 

After that, you only focused on school. You remember only focusing on your grades and your after school activities. You wanted to get the highest grades and the highest praises so you could go to the best college. You wanted to do whatever you could do to get away from your family. 

You wanted to get out of this small town in this forgettable state and move far far away from here. You didn’t care about how you did it. You just had to do it. 

Turns out.. you had a hidden talent for singing and songwriting. One hit song when you were seventeen right after graduation ended up landing you the record deal of the year. You had gotten lucky and you felt grateful every day since. 

That song and album won you three Grammys in your very first year in the spotlight. It felt overwhelming. 

Suddenly, you were being pulled in different directions. You had millions of fans. You performed sold out shows in the biggest arenas in the United States and all abroad. You were living the life you had never thought you would have ever wanted. But it made you happy. 

You were the happiest you had been in years. In your whole life, maybe. 

And you never went back home. Especially for your birthday. You didn’t enjoy celebrating it because everything about Christmas time reminded you of your horrible childhood. 

So.. yeah. You weren’t a fan of the holidays. 

And it didn’t help that your wonderful, loving, teddy bear of a boyfriend loved them. He absolutely loved Christmas time. 

He was the type to hire decorators to decorate the outside of the house and then to come inside and go the full nine yards in here, too. 

You admit.. it made you happy seeing him happy. It made your heart tug a little bit and all you wanted was for him to be happy. But this year, you were both going to celebrate in your shared New York City penthouse. 

Harry said Anne and Gemma were aching to spend the holidays up here. 

You had somehow managed to get out of the Christmas holidays the past three years. Always scheduling something so you wouldn’t be home, but Harry begged you to not plan anything this year. That he wanted to celebrate with you and finally be together for your birthday, here at home. With him. You love him and you know how much this means to him.  You want to make him happy, so you agreed. He’s your entire world. 

Harry came into your life like a bulldozer. Fast, unexpectedly, and it was life changing. He had reached out to you back in 2018 during the holiday season. 

You remember seeing “Harry Styles just sent you a Direct Message” on your notification and you about had a heart attack. Of course you knew who freaking Harry Styles was. You had basically grown up with One Direction, but with you focusing on school.. you didn’t really have time to obsess over them. But you did know them and occasionally listened to their music. 

So yeah, you knew who Harry Styles was. Young, devilishly handsome, and surprisingly single. And he was messaging you. Gushing about how much he loved your music and admired the way you carried yourself in your interviews. You had just released your second album at the age of twenty one and were about to start touring for it. He was already touring for his first solo album. (Which you loved) 

He wanted to come to one of your shows. You gave him a seat in the family and friends section and a backstage pass. 

You had been messaging back and forth since his first message a couple months back. You had spent all of your free time texting him and if your timing aligned with his time.. then you’d talk for hours on the phone. 

 It felt almost like you knew him. The connection that you felt with Harry was something you had never experienced before. And it felt crazy to you. This was all new to you and it was exciting. And a little scary. 

And finally, he was able to get away from his own tour to come see you. 

And he met you backstage after your show and immediately pulled you into his arms, praised you with his words, and the way you felt in his arms made you cry. 

It was overwhelming and pretty embarrassing. It felt safe. Harry’s embrace made you feel safe. And you don’t even remember the last time you had ever felt that way. If you had ever even felt that way before that moment. 

When Harry noticed, he immediately ordered everybody in the room to get out and the look on his face… he looked so worried. So sincere. So honest. 

It made you incredibly emotional and you profusely apologized for ruining his shirt with your tears. And he said he didn’t care about his shirt. 

That he cared about you. 

And ever since the day you met him, that’s the one main thing Harry has always made sure you feel. That you feel safe. 

It did take some time for you to open up to Harry about your childhood, but when you did.. you felt grateful. It felt good to finally talk to someone other than your therapist about everything you had gone through. He had always wondered why you never talked about your family or why he hadn’t met anyone other than Eva in the year of you guys dating. And when he finally knew, he held you and didn’t let you go for hours. 

Harry felt like home. 

Now it was the day before Christmas Eve 2021.  You and Harry were cuddling on the comfy gray couch in the living room that overlooked the NYC skyline and the Christmas tree that you had both decorated together at the beginning of December was glimmering in the darkness. All the awaiting presents under it make you smile.

Anne and Gemma had already settled into bed for the night. They stated they needed some more sleep to adjust to the time difference and you couldn’t agree more. You and Harry had decided to stay up a little longer. 

You cuddled into Harry’s chest as he held you while a Christmas movie played for you guys. You guys are watching ‘Elf’ and you admit it’s a good Christmas movie. No wonder it’s one of Harry’s favorites. 

Harry feels extremely warm underneath you and it makes you want to stay here forever. 

He’s rubbing your scalp gently with the tips of his fingers and your hand is underneath his sweater. Gently rubbing your own fingers on his almost non existent little belly. 

But his body always held into a tiny little pouch under his belly button and you secretly loved it. You played with the happy trail there and ran your fingers over his abs slowly as well. 

The atmosphere around you feels peaceful. It feels entirely calm and it’s a feeling that sinks deep into your bones. 

You just weren’t used to this over the holidays and it felt almost weird to allow yourself to enjoy this. 

Suddenly, Harry gets a slight hold of your chin and tilts your head up to meet his lips. His kiss surprises you, but you melt into him. He kisses you softly and lets his tongue slip into your mouth slightly. You smile into the kiss and hum in content when he pulls away from you. 

Meeting his eyes, “What was that for?” You whisper as you wipe his bottom lip with your thumb. 

His eyes twinkle with happiness and his arms wrap around you tightly, pulling you to sit on his lap completely, and he smiles so sweetly. 

You let your hair fall over your shoulders as you look down at him. He’s so handsome. 

“Happy birthday, my sun.” 

You intertwine your hands in his own, glancing at the clock next to you that shows it’s exactly midnight, and you smile sheepishly at Harry. You lean down and kiss him again. 

“Thank you, honey.” 

“Let’s go to bed,” Harry says with a teasing smile as he holds onto your waist with one arm, shuts off the tv with his free hand, and easily lifts you up into the air. 

“H!” You shriek with a giggle as you koala hug him to not fall down. He laughs lowly, “I’ll never drop you, sun.” 

You both giggle until you fall into the mattress in your room, locking the door in a rush, but then Harry takes his time taking you apart and letting you come undone. 

Helping you fall apart with his fingers, his tongue, and then with his cock. 

And when he has to clamp his hand over your mouth tightly to keep you from screaming out during your orgasm, he’ll do that all night long just to make you happy. 

••• 

You wake up the next morning, slowly, and to the wonderful smell of bacon in the air. 

You inhale the scent with a small smile as you stretch your limbs awake. You sit down on your bed, pulling the white comforter over your naked torso, and looking around for Harry. The floor to ceiling windows are cloudy with the Christmas chill, but it sends a wave of comfort throughout the room. 

And it’s as if he knew you were searching for him. 

Because he walks into the bedroom with a bed tray stacked with food. 

You instantly perk up with a smile, ���Hi.” 

Harry leans down and kisses you, “Hi. Happy birthday, my sun.” 

You giggle and shush him. “You already wished me a happy birthday.” 

“I’m going to keep wishing my wonderful girlfriend a happy birthday all day long,” he says teasingly with a smirk as he sets down the tray in front of you. 

You adjust yourself in the bed and admire the yummy food in front of you. “Did you do all of this for me?” 

Your heart fills with warm love and your cheeks flush. 

“Mom did. She made all of your favorites.” 

Now his cheeks are flushing bright pink and you’re instantly overcome with a sense of love. 

“She made all of this for me?” You ask in shock as you look at the chocolate chip pancakes, sunny side up eyes, fresh fruit, and amazing smelling bacon. 

“Of course, sun. She loves you,” he says with a kiss to your forehead. 

“Shouldn’t we go eat with them in the dining room?” 

“Nah. You love eating in bed and today’s all about you,” he says as he starts cutting up your pancakes. 

“But—“ 

“No buts.” 

You shut your mouth with a smile as he feeds you the pancakes and takes some for himself with a teasing grin.

“We’re only doing what you love today. That’s all.”  

And that’s how the rest of the day goes with Harry pampering you and only letting you do something if you truly want to do it. 

You felt so lucky. 

Now it’s the afternoon, you’re all gathered in the living room after eating a yummy and fulfilling dinner in your matching Christmas pajamas. Harry bought them for all of you guys and they’re grinch themed. You have to admit that seeing Harry so giddy and excited filled your heart with so much warmth and love. You truly felt so happy today. 

You all had already exchanged gifts with each other. You two had gotten Anne and Gemma a full paid trip to Paris for a little winding down when you and Harry were going to go next summer. And you had framed two of your favorite pictures of the four of you together and gifted them each one. They loved it. 

Anne had gifted you and Harry two homemade sweaters that she had knitted herself and it meant so much to you. Way more than any other money made gift. 

Gemma gifted you a homemade shirt that she had stitched a quote for your favorite show and she had made Harry a matching one as well. 

It was something cheesy, “you’re my lobster” and Harry immediately loved it. You did as well. 

You have to admit that this felt insanely weird. You and Harry always exchanged gifts, but it was never in this type of setting. With his mom and sister. 

It felt so intimate and loving. 

So intimidating that it felt scary, but this was something that you didn’t know you needed. 

“I wrote something for you,” Harry states as he gets the guitar from Gemma. It’s one of his favorites. It’s the one that was gifted to him from a friend. It’s the one with the starry design. 

“You wrote me a song?” You ask with a grin as you grip onto your hot chocolate while you adjust yourself on the couch cushion. 

“Another one?” Gemma says jokingly and Anne sushes her with a jab. 

You see Harry’s cheeks blush faintly as he sits down on a small stool he pulled out from the pantry. 

He slowly starts to make sure his cords are in key and he lets out a shaky breathe. He looks up to meet your eyes. 

“This song… is for you. Completely and utterly for you. I hope you like it, my sun.” 

There’s so much honesty in his eyes that it makes you feel completely warm and full inside. 

He slowly starts to strum his guitar. 

You were riding your bike to the sound of "It's No Big Deal"

A small gasp leaves your lips as your fingers grip into the mug. Instant tears fill your eyes as you hear the first sentence of your song. 

And you're trying to lift off the ground on those old two wheels

Harry gives you a small smile as you stare at him with a wavering expression. 

Nothing about the way that you were treated ever seemed especially alarming 'til now

Your bottom lip is quivering. 

So you tie up your hair and you smile like it's no big deal

You can feel your water line filled with tears and you slowly set your mug down on the side table. You watch Harry intently. 

You can let it go

You can throw a party full of everyone you know

And not invite your family, 'cause they never showed you love

You don't have to be sorry for leaving and growing up, mmh

You shut your eyes for a second, allowing his words fill your body, tears slowly start falling down your cheeks, and you allow yourself to feel the emotions. Allowing yourself to finally feel the emotions you’ve been keeping pilled down deep. 

You feel someone sit by you and grip your hand in theirs. You open your eyes to see Anne next to you, smiling so sweetly at you, and hold your hand tightly in her own. Her own tears filling her eyes as she holds you. Her love these past years have shown you what your own mother couldn’t.  

A mothers love. 

Matilda, you talk of the pain like it's all alright

But I know that you feel like a piece of you's dead inside

Harry gives you a small smile as his own tears fill his eyes. The childhood movie you loved to watch fills your mind as it used to help you escape. You frown at the memories and grip onto Anne’s hand harder.  

You showed me a power that is strong enough to bring sun to the darkest days

It's none of my business, but it's just been on my mind

You can let it go

You can throw a party full of everyone you know

And not invite your family, 'cause they never showed you love

You don't have to be sorry for leaving and growing up

Images of the last years rush through your mind. Everything you’ve managed to accomplish. 

You can see the world, following the seasons

Anywhere you go, you don't need a reason

'Cause they never showed you love

You don't have to be sorry for doing it on your own

Harry lets his guitar rest on the space next to him on the floor and he reaches for your hand. You grip onto his hand with your free one and he continues to sing. His beautiful angelic voice filled the entire room. His raw voice fills your ears like heaven. 

You're just in time, make your tea and your toast

His voice cracks and slow tears fall down his cheeks. 

You framed all your posters and dyed your clothes, ooh

You don't have to go

You don't have to go home

Oh, there's a long way to go

Gemma walks out of the room and into the kitchen. 

I don't believe that time will change your mind

In other words

I know they won't hurt you anymore as long as you can let them go

You can let it go

Harry kisses each one of your knuckles and holds your hand against his cheek, his smile wavering as he continues to sing. 

You can throw a party full of everyone you know

You can start a family who will always show you love

You don't have to be sorry for doing it on your own

You can let it go

You see Gemma walking into the room with a beautiful baby pink cake with colorful sprinkles all over the top and matching long candles that are glowing in the dark night. You cry even harder. 

You can throw a party full of everyone you know

You can start a family who will always show you love

You don't have to be sorry, no

Tears filled your eyes as you looked around the room. A wavering smile on your lips as you watched everyone in front of you wearing a giant smile and matching tears. 

And just for a second… it was quiet. 

There wasn’t any loud voices behind you yelling at each other. There weren’t any doors being slammed shut nor glasses being thrown to the floor or the walls. 

All you could hear was the wood crackling in the fireplace, the soft sound of the Christmas music playing on the record player, the small sniffs of the people around you trying to hold in their tears as you let your own fall freely, and you could hear your own heart silently patching itself back together. 

You sniffle as you watch Harry reach for the cake and he proceeds to move the cake at your eye level. 

His beautiful green eyes rimmed red, nose tinted pink, and he’s smiling at you. 

“Make a wish, my love.” 

Anne’s hand lets go of your own and she instead starts rubbing your back in comfort. You wrap your own hands delicately around Harry's wrists as you let the candle's warmth coat your face so lightly. 

“You’ve already made all of them come true,” you whisper as you slowly blow out the candles. 

Your only wish is to only ever feel this way for the next holidays. 

[wambsgansshoelaces]

Something Sweet; Chapter 1

read the prologue here, and chapter 2 here! please leave your thoughts- I’d love to improve! Enjoy!

word count: 1,700+

Black Friday is no different than Thanksgiving for your bakery. Nobody really comes in- it’s just a day of experimentation for you. You have a cake to decorate for tomorrow, anyway, so you’re happily occupied for the day.

You think about the guy from yesterday a lot. You hope that he’s okay, and that he got himself to wherever he was going safely. You catch yourself thinking about him a little too often- you have to admit, you did find him cute.

The cake you’ve been commissioned to make is for some little kid’s birthday party, and your instructions were to make it explicitly Spider-Man themed. You’ve been caught up on the MCU for quite some time- it’s not that good anymore, to be honest- but the Spider-Verse movies were some of the best you’d seen in recent years. You spend the morning dying buttercream red while the sponge cake itself chills in the freezer.

You must be a little too absorbed in it, however, because somebody calls “Hello?” into the back.

When you see him, your heart gives a happy little flutter. “You.”

He looks much better than yesterday. The bags under his eyes are lighter, he isn’t as fidgety, and there’s an air of sobriety about him. “Yeah. Me. I realize we never introduced ourselves..” You can hear paper crinkle in his hands, but you can’t see what he’s holding from over the pastry display. Maybe you were wrong about the fidgeting bit.

“I’m Kendall. Kendall Roy.” He sticks his hand over the counter, and you shake it.

“So that’s how I know you.” His grip is firm, despite his otherwise raggedy appearance. It’s what you’d expect of a Roy. “I’m Y/N. I own the place.”

“Um, can we…?” he gestures back to a booth. You round the counter and you both settle across from each other like yesterday. You can see what Kendall was fidgeting with now- a tiny bouquet of lillies held together by a sloppily tied pink ribbon. “For you. Because I was freeloading yesterday.”

You take the flowers and set them in your lap, smiling softly. “You really didn’t need to. You needed some help yesterday, so I gave it to you.”

He looks down into his hands. He’s not dressed as nicely as he was yesterday- no watch, no dress pants, just sweats and a hoodie. “I have those episodes sometimes, and the wrong people always get caught in them. I really do want to make it up to you.”

“Again, you really did nothing wrong. I mean, sure, whatever you were on yesterday probably wasn’t a good idea, but we live and we learn, right?” You stand, holding the flowers to your torso. “Want coffee?”

“I’ll pay for one, yes.”

You round the counter again, setting the bouquet somewhere safe and you start the coffee machine with some coffee bits you ground that morning. “No, you won’t.”

“I’m being serious.” Kendall hadn’t followed you into the back, peeping over the counter like a puppy separated from its mother. “I have the money to spare.”

“We’re friends. I really don’t mind, Kendall.”

His name, you realize, sounds perfect off your tongue.

“But I do, Y/N.” He peers up at the menus hanging from your ceiling. “You only charge $2 for a coffee? You’re a saint.” He takes out his wallet and tosses a wad of twenties across the counter.

“I’m not taking that,” you say over your shoulder, pouring coffee into two separate cups. “Do you want cream or sugar? Or maybe you’re a honey and milk guy?”

“Just some honey, please. And I don’t care. You’re keeping the change.”

You don’t say anything, sliding him a cup.

જ⁀➴

You’d argued over who’d take the money for another ten minutes before you kicked him out of the bakery for impudence. Kendall, accepting defeat, had scribbled his number on a napkin and pressed it into your hand, and now here you sat trying to figure out what to text him.

Eventually, you settle on keeping it simple; hey kendall, it’s y/n !

He responds almost immediately.

It’s good to hear from you.

A pause.

I thought you wouldn’t text me.

He texts the way he talks, you think.

what makes you think that? i think you’re fun

Well, my first impression on you wasn’t really good, was it?

clearly it was, otherwise i’d have burned the napkin

Ha.

Another pause.

You’re a good sport for taking the money.

what? but i didn’t

Check your purse.

The minute you get the message, you grab your purse from the ground where you’d unceremoniously dumped it on the ground when you got home. All you had to do was unzip it to find the same wad of twenties from before. That bastard.

you’re not serious

It’s there, isn’t it?

how much is this? coffee is $2, you really shouldn’t have

I felt like it. Count it out.

You take a moment to do just that- and end at $5,000.

kendall, this is crazy

Is it? I owe you.

i keep telling you, you don’t owe me anything. at this point, i owe you

Don’t worry about it.

You sit there, blankly staring at your phone. Sure, you knew the Roys were mega millionaires and owned helicopters and yachts and probably seventy different properties, but you would have never expected one of them to drop $5,000 on you so easily. Why you? You’re a baker just barely surviving- what even brought him to your place, anyway?

Actually- are you free this Christmas?

always am

Would you cater dessert for my family’s dinner? You’d get paid well. Then you could actually afford to keep your coffee $2. Ha.

You didn’t know whether to be offended or not.

seriously?

My dad fired the last one after an incident with a pineapple. Besides, your baking is heavenly.

you only had a cupcake, kenny

I had my assistant come by this morning. I’m thorough.

You think back on the morning. Someone had come by and ordered an obscene amount… you’d just taken it as some Thanksgiving work party.

You’d probably have to come in and do a test run. He’s picky.

if you’re serious…

Perfect. Am I allowed another favor?

i think i owe you a hit after all this

Let me take you out to dinner after. And kill any of my siblings. Then we’re even.

જ⁀➴

You wake up the next morning feeling like you stuck a fork into an electrical socket. You’re nervous, excited, nauseous. You root around in your closet for your lucky apron and shove it into your tote for the day. You slide around the hardwood flooring in your socks, organizing things for your day. You and Kendall agreed that he’d come get you at ten and take you to the supermarket for whatever it is his father would request.

Were you worried? Not about Logan, no. You were more nervous about the date you had with Kendall than you were about baking. All he had said was to bring something nice to wear after.

The flowers he brought you yesterday sit comfortably on your kitchen counter. They were handed to you perfectly prepared for a vase.

While some part of you wants this to be a romantic date, the other, more rational part thinks this is just him and his ‘I owe you’ mindset.

You live in a townhouse pasted to the back of your bakery. It was great, in your opinion. You don’t need to pay rent- only make payment on the bakery -and you can never really be late for work. It makes your life much easier, and you’re grateful you were able to nab it when you did.

There’s a sharp, sort of erratic knock at your door. You gather all of your stuff, put on your shoes, and greet a Kendall who’s obviously high. He smells faintly of weed, which years in pastry school helped you pick up.

“What the fuck?” is the first thing out of your mouth. “You drove here?”

He blinked. “What? No. Chauffer.”

While you didn’t claim to know anything about Kendall, you could use your critical thinking skills and assume that this was a normal occurrence. What was he trying to take the edge off of? He didn’t seem like the type to do drugs for the fun of it. He was running one of the biggest conglomerates in the nation, even the world. What made him turn to drugs? You feel like you should say something, but you decide on figuring that out later.

Kendall flat-out gives you his phone, saying something about how his father wanted a key-lime pie and he found a recipe if you needed. High Kendall, you note, is much more droll and glum than sober Kendall. Sober Kendall was sweet, witty, and funny, in his own way. It’s like his mind is on autopilot. He stares out of the window blankly.

The car pulls up to the local grocery store and you glance at Kendall sitting next to you. “Are you coming?”

He blinks again, processing. “Yeah. Sure.” You scurry through the store, making Kendall carry the ingredients you picked out for the pie crust and key-lime filling. He follows mindlessly, only offering the occasional ‘yeah’ or ‘maybe this one, it’s bigger’ when picking out fruit.

When you’re back in the car, surrounded by plastic bags, you turn to Kendall. The driver abruptly slams the breaks, and Kendall’s arm shoots out in front of you and keeps you reasonably still, keeping himself from blasting through the windshield by bracing his other arm on the seat in front of him.

“Fuck, calm down!” He peers out of the window. “Cyclists are an epidemic,” he mutters.

“People still do that in the street?” you ask, following his gaze.

“Only dicks. They’re like chihuahuas. They think they’re cars.”

You can’t contain your awe when you pull up to the Roy townhouse. “It’s gorgeous,” you murmur.

“Gets uglier when you meet who’s in it.”

“Okay, Kendall, you’re very encouraging.”

He stops you as you try gather the plastic bags of groceries to take upstairs with you. “Don’t bother. You’ll be great. Go up, Marcia will meet you. I’ll see you later?”

You step out of the car and stare up at the townhouse. You look back over your shoulder and give Kendall a wave, who returns it awkwardly before you make the quick journey up the complex in the elevator.

Marcia greats you with a smile on her face. “Y/N, correct? How lovely to meet you.” She beckons you into the home, heading straight to the kitchen. Other servants have brought up the groceries, and you fish out your apron from your own tote.

You have no idea how you got here, but you’re excited to see where you go.

[trulybetty]

oct' 26 x jack-o-lanterns

Prompt: jack-o-lanterns (something sweet this way comes p.II) Pairing: marcus pike x f!Reader Word Count: 3,305 Warnings: barely beta'd is the name of the game, all mistakes are my own. mentions of baking, a tiny dash of spice, no spoilers here 💕 Summary: maplewood, a small town nestled in northern bc where people flock to see the changing blossom trees and celebrate the fall season. after losing your job you find yourself a part of the community which includes the towns baker who left a less than stellar impression on you. AO3: linked

x. masterlist | something sweet this way comes part I

Something Sweet, This Way Comes Part II | Jack-o-Lanterns

The preparations for the Trick or Treat Parade were well underway, it was an annual celebration in the town’s main square, outside the town hall. Maplewood, while a small community, serviced a great deal of people outside the town. Many of its inhabitants lived rurally, meaning trick-or-treating wasn't feasible for many of the children.

However, before that could happen the mid month tradition of the Jack-O-Lantern Hunt took place. Businesses and landmark buildings alike all decorated or carved their own pumpkins and people would follow the trail visiting each location on their maps. It was a way to encourage business and bolster the festivities after Thanksgiving had passed.

Black Cat Books was no exception, Libby had been putting the final touches to the store's pumpkin when the bell rang above the door signalling a customer.

“Marcus!” she called out, “what do we owe this please?”

You rolled your eyes as the enthused cheeriness of your friend, you were currently engrossed in the latest shipment of fall mystery novels and the scanning of them into the POS system.

“Evening,” he greeted, looking a little out of his element in the quiet bookstore. “Actually, I was looking for a gift.” 

“I can help you with that,” Libby remarked standing from her stool, “who is it for?”

“Sarah actually.”

“What’s the occasion? Her birthday isn’t until the summer isn’t it?” Libby asked, making her way around the counter.

You watched Marcus out of the corner of your eye as he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, “Not her birthday no, she broke her arm on the weekend at her soccer match down in Fort Nelson.”

“No!” Libby exclaimed, “poor girl, she lives and breathes soccer.”

“I know, so I thought I’d get her something to cheer her up. She’s always talking about her visits here. I was hoping you’d be able to recommend a book maybe?”

Libby looked thoughtful for a moment, “Hm, I’m not entirely sure.”

Before you could catch yourself you cleared your throat and grabbed a book off of the shelf behind you, “This one,” you said as you tried to be as nonchalant as you could handing it to Marcus, “Sarah was debating on this one the last time she was in here but said she was going to wait until she got paid.”

Marcus accepted the book, a soft smile on his face as he looked at the cover, “Thank you.”

“You're welcome,” you said, your eyes meeting his for a fleeting second before you turned your attention back to your work.

“So how are you managing at the bakery with Sarah out of commission? Isn’t Maria on vacation too?” Libby asked, referring to the bakeries' part-time weekday employee.

Marcus let out a sigh. “It's been a bit chaotic, to be honest. She was going to be right hand for front-of-house operations this week, and with the Jack-O-Lantern Hunt coming up, it's been really hectic trying to juggle everything.”

Libby took the book and got started on wrapping it, “What are you going to do? The hunt is this weekend.”

Marcus sighed, “I honestly don't know. We're already falling behind on orders, and there's so much to prepare for the parade at the end of the month on top of the pumpkin hunt.”

It was at that point that Libby, forever the matchmaker and opportunist, seized the moment. “You know, my friend here is pretty nifty with her customer service skills.  Maybe she could lend a hand?" she said nonchalantly as she tied the final knot on the gift ribbon.

You choked on your own breath almost dropping the stack of books in your hands, “What? Me? Bu- but you need me here, Libby.”

Libby waved you off with a grin, “Nonsense. It's been pretty manageable here. And besides,” she gave you a pointed look, “it's a good opportunity for you to get to know the town better.” she finished with a not so discreet nod in the direction of Marcus.

You and Marcus exchanged an awkward glance, the tension palpable but it was vastly different than it has been in the past. 

“Think about it,” Libby nudged as Marcus paid and took his wrapped book, thanking her.

He looked at you, a question in his eyes, “Would you consider it? I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t really need the help.”

You really wanted to decline, find some excuse, any excuse. But as Marcus stood there, looking genuinely in need and a bit vulnerable, you felt something shift.

“I'll think about it,” you said, realizing even as you spoke that your curiosity was already tipping the scales. Marcus nodded, a hint of relief crossing his features.

“Thank you, either way,” he said, exiting the bookstore with a small wave to the both of you.

As the door closed behind him, you looked at Libby, who was practically beaming.

“What are you up to Libby?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you volunteering to help him?”

“I think you might have more in common with him than you think.”

“Well, aren't you the little cupid,” you said, a bit sarcastically but not without warmth.

Libby shrugged, “When the universe gives you a nudge, sometimes you have to nudge back.”

“You really need to let up on those horoscopes.”

Libby gave you a weary eye roll, “Plus is it such a terrible thing? Baked goods and coffee on tap?”

The next morning guilt had you dragging your feet across to the bakery, with a good shove from Libby, to tell Marcus you’d help him with the front of house operations for the remainder of the week while he looked at finding someone else to fill Sarah’s position a little more permanently. 

As he’d walked you through the point of sale system he used you realised it was the exact same setup Libby had and soon were able to catch on pretty fast. 

“Seems like you're a natural at this,” Marcus said with a grin as you smoothly rang up a customer's order. “If you ever get tired of helping Libby out, you're welcome here anytime.”

As the days progressed it turned out Marcus mostly worked in the back, managing the oven, mixers, and other kitchen duties, which left you mainly responsible for front-of-house operations. This was a relief in some ways, reducing the awkward tension that had started building up between the two of you.

Marcus had said you could read between customers if you wanted to, but the bakery was so busy you barely had a chance to open the book you'd brought along. People were in a constant stream, some coming in to pick up pre-orders, others dropping by for their daily fix of coffee and pastries, and still, others had come out of curiosity, intrigued by the upcoming festivities. 

Despite the business, you couldn't help but notice how different each customer interaction was compared to the bookstore. Whereas Black Cat Books was a haven for the introverted, the bakery was a social hub. Children would come in giggling, pulling their parents behind them as they pointed to the cookies and cupcakes in the display case. Old friends would bump into each other in line and strike up conversations as if no time had passed. 

And everyone, it seemed, knew Marcus.

As each customer came and went, most had something kind to say about Marcus.

“Tell Marcus that the apple tarts were divine, would you?”

“Marcus helped fix my flat tire last week. Can you make sure he gets this thank you card?”

“Ah, Marcus makes the best chocolate cake. Did I tell you he was a lifesaver during the snowstorm last year? Cleared both my driveway and sidewalk.”

The anecdotes were small, simple moments that seemed to paint a portrait of Marcus you hadn't considered. Your previous reservations, based largely on a whole lot of stubborn pride, started to seem trivial in the face of what you were hearing.

While you had been busy contemplating whether he was too good to be true, he was, in fact, doing good in the community you were both a part of. Your wariness was beginning to wane, being replaced by a blossoming curiosity and a tiny little bit of a newfound respect for the man you'd initially written off.

Around mid-afternoon a couple of days later, Marcus finally emerged from the back, carrying a tray of freshly baked pumpkin bread. The smell wafted through the shop, and you inhaled deeply, feeling a sense of comfort that only a bakery could provide.

“How's it going out here?” he asked, placing the tray on a display counter.

“Busy,” you replied, “I haven't even had a chance to crack open my book.”

Marcus glanced at the book lying beside the cash register, “Well, I hope that's a good thing.”

“It is,” you found yourself smiling, “it's nice to be busy. Keeps the time flying.”

Marcus looked pleased, “I'm glad to hear that. I was worried you might find it overwhelming. Between the start of fall, Thanksgiving, Harvest, the Jack-O-Lantern hunt, then Halloween - it’s almost as busy as the Holidays around here.”

“You know, I’ve never heard of so many celebrations stuffed into one month.”

Marcus laughed softly while he continued to work on the display, “I know how you feel; I felt that way when I first got here. But it's a great way to bring people together and share some happiness. Who doesn't need more of that?” 

“Speaking of community, they’ve all got something to say about you it seems Mr. Pike.”

“Oh?” Marcus raised an eyebrow, “Good things I hope?”

You hesitated for a moment, choosing your words carefully, “Let's just say I'm learning that you're very well-liked around here. People appreciate what you do, both in and out of this bakery.”

Marcus looked genuinely surprised, and then his face broke into a warm, appreciative smile. “Well, that's kind of them to say. I just try to do my part, you know? Small town, tight-knit community—it's what makes Maplewood special.”

Friday soon came around and Marcus had let you know that morning that the weekend was taken care of. Maria was back in town and had said she’d work Sarah’s shift that weekend, meaning it was your last day helping out at the bakery.

Despite your reservations at the start of the week, you had felt a little pang of disappointment when he’d made the announcement after you’d arrived that morning.

You were wiping down the counters when Marcus came out from the back again, looking a little flour-dusted but otherwise no worse for wear.

“How'd it go?” he asked, washing his hands in the sink.

“Busy,” you replied, “but good busy. I think I successfully managed to not ruin your business.”

He took the cloth from you, “It’s okay, I’ve got this, you can head out.”

You shook your head and took it back, “It’s okay, Libby has book club tonight, the less time I have to be there for the better.”

Marcus laughed as he crossed the floor to the shop's door, locking it, “In that case, knock yourself out.”

Marcus flipped the sign to close and you paused, realizing Marcus was watching you, “What?” You ask with a grin, unsure why he was giving you such attention.

He laughed to himself and shook his head, “If you’re not wanting to head out any time soon, how do you feel about lending a hand with a bit of baking?”

“You trust me?”

“I think you can handle it, I’ll do the heavy lifting.” he finished with a wink and before you knew it you were following him to the back of the shop.

Once you were both in the back kitchen, Marcus started gathering ingredients from various shelves and corners of the room. “We're making cinnamon rolls, a seasonal special.” he said, placing butter, flour, sugar, and a variety of spices on the counter. You also noticed a small bottle of orange food colouring and a bag of pecans.

“Cinnamon rolls? Not sure what's so seasonal about them,” you said, intrigued by the setup.

Marcus chuckled, “Ah, but these aren't just any cinnamon rolls. They're pumpkin spice rolls with pecans and an orange-coloured spiced glaze. Trust me; these are special.”

“Wow, sounds delicious,” you replied, starting to feel excited about the baking adventure.

Marcus handed you an apron, and you couldn't help but notice how his eyes lingered on you as you tied it around your waist. “You look good in that,” he remarked as he passed by to pull down a mixing bowl.

“Thanks,” you replied, unable to keep a smile from spreading across your face.

Marcus began weighing flour and pouring it into a large mixing bowl and explained the steps as he went along. “First, we make the dough, then we let it rise. After that, we roll it out, sprinkle the filling, roll it up, and then cut it into pieces. Easy as pie, or in this case, rolls.”

After you'd mixed the dough ingredients, Marcus instructed you on the proper way to knead it. To your surprise, he positioned himself behind you, placed his hands over yours, and began guiding your movements on the dough.

“Use the heel of your hand to push and fold the dough back on itself,” he said, his voice soft and close to your ear. “It's all in the wrist.”

You felt a wave of heat rise to your cheeks, your heart racing as Marcus's hands continued to guide yours in perfect harmony. You had been so wary of him just a few days ago, but now, the intimacy of this simple act was breaking down any remaining barriers. You were becoming acutely aware of the magnetic pull towards him you’d been trying so hard to ignore.

Finally, Marcus pulled away, and you took a moment to catch your breath. 

“You're a quick learner,” Marcus finally said, pulling a baking sheet from one of the cabinets.

“Good teacher,” you mumbled, unable to meet his eye, feeling your face grow hot.

After rolling the dough, sprinkling the filling, and neatly lining the rolls on the baking sheet, Marcus popped them into the oven. While they baked, he mixed the orange-coloured spiced glaze, occasionally stealing glances at you and smiling.

“Want to try a taste?” he asked, offering out a spoon he’d practically made appear out of nowhere, or you’d been that focused on his hands as he stirred the ingredients. 

Nodding, you leaned in to taste the glaze from the spoon Marcus was holding. As you did, a drop of the orange-coloured icing escaped, landing on your lower lip. Marcus looked at you, his gaze dropping to your lips. Time seemed to slow down.

“Hold on, you’ve got a little…” His voice trailed off as he gently reached up and brushed away the drop of glaze with his thumb.

Your heart pounded in your chest as Marcus took a step closer to you as he licked off the icing from his thumb. His eyes met yours, asking for permission, before flicking down to your lips. You felt the air grow thick with tension, a magnetic pull drawing you closer together.

“Is this okay?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Before you could answer, a sudden knock on the front door of the bakery shattered the moment. You both jumped, startled out of the intimate bubble you’d been in.

Marcus looked as confused as you felt, but then you took it as an opportunity to try and shake some sense into yourself. “I should go,” you said, quickly removing your apron and folding it on the counter.

Before Marcus could respond, another impatient knock echoed from the front. “Hold on!” he called out towards the door, his eyes meeting yours one more time as if to say 'don't go.'

But you were already moving, grabbing your purse and jacket. The spell was broken, but the lingering feelings remained as you felt the ghost of Marcus’ touch on your lips.

As pulled on your jacket you heard Marcus greet the knocker. “Bill, you know it’s past closing, right?”

“It’s an emergency, Marcus, I swear! I need a pie, I saw the lights on out the back and you’re the only one in town who can save me.”

You heard Marcus laugh, his attention now fully on Bill, who was from the art store down the street. Feeling like an intruder on the scene, you took your chance to slip out of the bakery with a quick wave to the two men, the bell jingling softly as you opened and then closed the door behind you.

You didn’t look back as you pulled your jacket tighter against the cold wind that swept down the highstreet, if you had you would have seen Marcus watching you as you looked both ways before you scurried across the street to the bookshop. 

Once inside, you took a moment to catch your breath, leaning against the door. What was that all about? You had a swirl of emotions rushing through your head, none of which made any sense when applied to Marcus. You were still pondering it as you locked up the shop and made your way upstairs to the apartment you shared with Libby.

When you walked in, you found Libby sitting on the sofa, flipping through a magazine with a cup of tea by her side. “You're late,” she noted, her eyes still fixed on the glossy pages before her. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, just lost track of time helping Marcus close,” you said, trying to keep your voice casual as you hung your jacket and kicked off your shoes.

“What were you doing, making out with Marcus in the back of the bakery?" Libby quipped, laughing to herself as she flipped another page.

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the suggestion, but managed to roll your eyes and offer a sarcastic laugh. “Please, I still don't see the appeal.”

“That's funny,” Libby said, raising an eyebrow as she set her magazine aside. “Because I haven't heard you say one bad thing about Marcus since you started helping out at the bakery.”

Caught off guard, you felt a quiet panic settle in your chest. You were usually so transparent to Libby, it made you uncomfortable how easily she could read you. “Well, I've been busy. No time for chit-chat when you're up to your elbows in doughnuts and the gossip of the neighbourhood watch.”

Libby eyed you suspiciously but said nothing more. “If you say so.”

“I do say so,” you affirmed, perhaps a bit too quickly. “Anyway, I'm going to take a shower.”

As you stepped into the warm stream of water, you let it wash over you, hoping it would also rinse away the tangled web of emotions that had sprung up so unexpectedly. Your mind replayed the almost-kiss, Marcus' eyes looking into yours, the touch of his hands over yours as you kneaded dough, and you felt a pang of something you couldn't quite place. Was it regret? Longing? It was too confusing to sort out, so you shut off the water, wrapping yourself in a towel in hope of pushing it all out of your mind.

As you looked at your reflection in the steamed-up bathroom mirror, you felt a mixture of relief and disappointment. Whatever it was that had happened at the bakery, it was over now. Tomorrow was a new day, and you would go back to your normal routine, back to your safe, familiar life you’d made for yourself in Maplewood.

But as you crawled into bed that night, the nagging feeling refused to leave you and you resolved to resume your long discarded search for job vacancies in Toronto in the morning. 

Maplewood suddenly felt stiflingly small.

[delurkr]

The lonely little pilgrim dude on Anthony's desk is really funny, like there's just the one but he was 100% part of a set of Thanksgiving table decorations where there was at least a pilgrim woman to go with him and maybe a turkey or something.

I think there would be more little figurines if Anthony was a collector unless he just started collecting like a week ago, so I think Dennis bought that thing at a five and dime store for Anthony's birthday last November (Thanksgiving season) and he thought that was a solid choice, a brilliant one in fact, because Dennis is just not good at selecting gifts. (He threw out the turkey but he's saving the woman for next year)

[the-jewel-catalogue]

As today would have been the late Queen Elizabeth II’s 98th birthday, let’s take a look back at her 80th birthday celebrations in 2006.

The whole family were out in force for the multiple celebrations which included a private family dinner at Kew Palace where a few interesting jewels were worn.

Starting with the birthday girl herself, the Queen wore her King Khaled diamond necklace and four (FOUR!!) diamond rings, including her engagement ring.

Princess Anne also brought out an interesting pair of diamond and pearl earrings. We haven’t been able to find these anywhere else so far so we don’t have any information on the provenance of them.

Additionally, Sophie wore a few interesting pieces. On the straps of her dress, there’s an interesting decoration. It may be a pair of brooches but as we don’t think they’ve been seen since, we’re leaning towards them being part of the dress. As well, she’s wearing a trilogy ruby and diamond ring.

If you’d like to see more arrivals at the party and the fireworks the royals watched in the evening, here’s a video link from AP https://youtu.be/E8mwRY4OgD8?si=522rTxAWg17nzzr2

The royals also attended a thanksgiving service at St Paul’s Cathedral where Camilla wore a beautiful emerald and diamond brooch said to have belonged to the Queen Mother.

As Charles inherited a lot of his late grandmother’s jewellery, this is possibly a piece that was in that inheritance.

[beaker1636]

I'll Be Home For Christmas - Ricky Angst

AN: I am really proud of how this one came out, I genuinely love it! Thank you for the request @tearfallpixie ! I hope you enjoy it as much as I do!

“What do you mean that you won’t be here in time for Christmas?! This is why I didn’t want you to book a flight home on fucking Christmas eve?” 

You want to yell, to scream out your frustration and grief towards your boyfriend, who is telling you yet again that he is missing something important to you but instead you find yourself getting quieter, almost in a whisper as you fight back your tears from his news.

“You-you promised me that you would be home for Christmas after having to miss our anniversary, my birthday, Halloween, and Thanksgiving. Rick, you fucking promised me,” you mumble, lip trembling as you try to keep your tears back.

“I know I did baby, we’re all currently trying to figure out how to get home.  It’s not our fault that the flight was canceled, it just happens unfortunately.  In fact Chris is currently fighting with someone trying to figure out what the fuck we can all do to get home. Ryan, Vin, Chris and I were all booked on this flight and are stuck here.  I know I promised you to be back for your favorite holiday, I’m so fucking sorry and wish I could do more right now,” you can hear the remorse and frustration in his voice, that he was just as upset as you are.

You let out a sigh before responding, “It’s part of being with you, I have to accept that, I am working on accepting that, but it’s hard Rick it is really hard.”

“I know baby, I know.  At least we are taking time off after the holidays for our next album so I will be home for a while,” he says, sounding sad as well which just makes you feel worse.

“Yeah, I hope you make it home soon.  Rick, I’ve got to go, mom is calling me,” you say softly. “I love you.”

“I love you too baby, I’ll keep you updated,” he answers before hanging up.

Your mother isn't really calling, you just need to end the call before you say something that you will regret during your emotions at the time.  You have to take some time to think about what is going on in your mind before you speak about it, not wanting to take your frustrations out on your boyfriend. 

You make your way to your bed, laying down on his side before you give in, letting your tears finally escape your eyes as a couple sobs escape as it all finally hits you.  Grief from missing him so much the last couple months Anger because he is missing another important thing. Anger because he promised you and broke it. Frustration from spending your favorite holiday alone. But most important, and probably the hardest thing is the loneliness that you feel.  

Your anger winds up winning as everything runs through your head, angry at yourself for trusting his words when he has failed you before.  And angry at yourself because he failed at keeping his promise.

You groan in annoyance, getting up and finding yourself in your living room.  Glaring at all the decorations that are mocking you, at the tree you had to decorate yourself this year.  You let out a growl before you begin ripping all of the ornaments off the tree, crying and frustrated.  Letting a couple break as you drop them while throwing them in a bag so you can be rid of the thing.  When that is done you tear the tree back down, taking it and the ornaments back down into the basement.  You wind up taking everything down in a fury, pissed off and annoyed and hurt.  So fucking hurt, you debated going home with your family but he fucking promised you.

You thought taking everything down would make you feel better, because then you wouldn’t have to sit and look at them when you know you won’t enjoy your Christmas now.. But instead it has made everything feel more real, breaking your heart even more as you sit on the floor where your tree once stood bawling, questioning if your love for Rick will always be enough to get you through the loneliness and heartbreak that you feel so deep.

Meanwhile

Chris walks back to the group, looking a little less pissed off than he was when he went up to the poor lady working the desk, but also frustrated.

“Okay, I got somewhere with her, we may still have a chance at getting home.  The airline has a flight to Philadelphia that leaves in 6 hours out of an airport that is a 4 hour drive away and she was able to get the four of us on it.  So if we can get a rental car, drive to the other airport in time, take the flight we would land in Philly at about 2 in the morning and would all get home around 430 if we can get someone to meet us at that airport to drive us home.  So let’s all start calling all the rental car places around here and see if we can find one last minute on a holiday and make this happen,” Chris says, giving a hopeful smile to his bandmates and friends.

Rick lets out a sigh, praying to a god he doesn’t believe in that they can somehow make this happen and get home for Christmas before pulling out his phone and starting to make calls.

They have no luck and now 15 minutes later Ryan is calling the last place, all feeling defeated and awful when he finally has a breakthrough.

“I’ve got one, it’s a car so we will be cramped with all of us and our luggage but it’s better than nothing.  They are holding it for me so let’s get a taxi and get there before its too late,” he exclaims, getting up from his seat.

Everyone cheers, thankful that they finally found something that will work, hoping everything goes as planned and despite the fact they’ll all be exhausted they will finally be on their way.  Eventually getting to the rental place and now on their way, Ryan drives.

Everyone’s moods have lifted at the prospect that they may have pulled this off and be home in time to be with their families.

While sitting in the car headed towards the new airport Rick’s mind wanders towards you, he tried calling you but you didn’t answer him.  He hopes that you are alright, able to hear you trembling when you speak and it really hurts him to know that you were hurting, especially when he feels like it is all his fault. But the part that killed him the most, that broke his own heart was when you said that it was part of being with him, that you have to accept that.  He honestly hates that he puts you through that, it is hard on him but he knows it is worse on you because you are stuck at home alone when he is off.  You had moved away from your family for him, so you are truly alone and he feels awful that he might not even be there for you at the holidays.  He would do anything if he knew he could erase all your pain and grief, but he knows he can’t.

He hopes that you aren’t taking it too badly, that you will be happy when he surprises you in the morning.  He also selfishly hopes that you are sleeping when he arrives home, that you will wake up and find him in your bed and get the gift he knows that you want the most this year, himself.

Back To You

You find yourself sitting on the couch, feeling a little numb as you continue to look around the room at the emptiness.  You and Rick should be getting home from the airport about now and instead you are sitting here, waiting for him to arrive but knowing he probably won’t tonight, which brings you back to your sorrow. 

You had things all planned for tomorrow, knowing he would be tired and sleep in, you planned to make a big breakfast for him in bed with all his favorites, but not until later in the day.  The two of you would have a lazy day, watching movies curled up together before enjoying a nice dinner.  You had already picked up both his and your favorite Christmas movie from the store, had bought everything, hell you even got some new lingerie for that night once the two of you were relaxed and ready to ahem spend time together.  You had everything figured out for a nice holiday and now you are alone. 

Your mother even begged you to come home for the holiday and you said no because you wanted a nice time with Rick, being his first day home from tour and now you wasted what could be a nice trip home. 

You get a call from him but you don’t answer it, given the time you figure it is bad and that you’ll be disappointed all over again, plus you just don’t want to for a moment, needing this time to figure out what you want.

You finally give up, deciding that you want to go to bed and forget about everything.  You can deal with this tomorrow, maybe if you are lucky he will be home tomorrow night and it won’t be a complete waste of the day.

The Next Morning 

Rick finally arrives home around 5 in the morning, thanks to Vinny's mom who spent her night picking them up from the airport and giving everyone a ride to their houses.  He makes sure to give her a smile and huge hug as thanks before grabbing his bag and making his way up the walkway.  He lets out a huff, before trying his hardest to unlock the door quietly so that he doesn’t wake you up.  He stops in his tracks when he notices that there is no tree up, no decorations anymore, and he knows how much time you spent putting everything up.  You facetimed him the entire time to try and make him still feel like he had a part in it with you. He sighs in disappointment before making his way into the bedroom to be with you.

His heart breaks when he sees you sleeping on his side of the bed, holding his pillow to your chest. He can tell that you were crying, your eyes slightly red and puffy in your sleep.  He shuffles out of his jeans and shirt, quietly sliding on a pair of sweatpants to sleep in before laying down behind you and wrapping his arm around you, smiling when you instinctively roll over and nuzzle your face in his neck but not waking up.  

When you wake up around 9 you are confused at first, you can tell someone is holding you before you even open your eyes.  You shoot up, concerned that someone has broken in, or who knows what but then you notice it is Rick and can’t help the excited squeal that escapes your mouth.

You can’t believe he made it on time, he told you he wouldn’t and you thought you would be alone.  You just watch him sleep for a while, not wanting to move and risk waking him up because you know he had to have arrived late.  But also because you can’t believe that he is currently home, in bed with you.

He stirs after a while, slowly stretching before opening his eyes and looking at you where you lay curled up in his side.  Rather than speaking he moves some of your hair, which is a mess from sleeping, out of your face before leaning in and giving you a soft kiss, both of you lingering in the kiss, not wanting to separate after finally seeing you for the first time in a long time before he finally sleepily pulls away with a smile.

“Merry Christmas Y/N,” he says quietly, neither of you moving nor having the desire to.  He just gave you your favorite Christmas gift, himself, and you couldn’t be happier to be laying here with him, having a lazy morning.  It may not have been the big breakfast and everything you had originally planned but this?  This is better.

[spidermasc]

we know Rhiannon doesn’t have many (or any) friends, much less a partner (yet 😍)….and let’s just say she doesn’t get along with her parents very well either. whether it be she fights a lot with them, they don’t see her as successful, she has too many siblings and they forgot about her for most of her life, or they just plain forgot they had a daughter in general.

so don’t think about how she returns home every night from her job to an silent, empty trailer. don’t think about all the meals she’s eaten by herself. definitely don’t think about all the Valentines Days Halloweens, Thanksgivings, Christmases, New Years countdowns, and birthdays she’s spent alone, by herself.

don’t think about her setting out a bowl of candy for kids on Halloween that always goes untouched because everyone forgets to stop by her trailer, no matter how decorated it is. don’t think about her having to take that untouched bowl back inside the day after either.

don’t think about her eating Thanksgiving dinners or waking up on Christmas day alone. don’t think about how every holiday movie she watches, no matter how evil or bad the main character is in the start, they always end up surrounded by their family and friends (Home Alone, The Grinch Who Stole Christmas, etc.), while she sits alone on her couch year after year.

don’t think about her baking herself a cake on her birthday and blowing out the candles by herself. don’t think about her buying herself a birthday gift and even wrapping it just so she can unwrap something on her birthday, even if she already knows what it is.

don’t think about her watching the ball drop on New Year’s Eve and cheering, only to look around and realize there’s no one to celebrate with her.

don’t think about how she’s been doing these things, alone, for YEARS. she’s stopped eagerly waiting to see if someone, anyone, will finally notice it’s her birthday and say Happy Birthday to her, because she knows everyone will forget. she’s stopped decorating her trailer and setting out candy because the kids never take any. she’s stopped waiting by her phone for the text or call that will never come.

so don’t think about how she just sits by herself in that empty trailer, doomed forever to be alone.

-💋

(SIKEEEEEE READER SWOOPS IN AND MAKES SURE SHES NEVER ALONE AGAIN — thought/fic idea coming soon)

you will pay for what you did..... this is so depressing.

rhiannon who always sends her parents letters in the mail asking how they are and giving updates in her life but she never gets anything back... no birthday cards no nothing! not even birthday cards from her co-workers when she makes it her mission to let everyone know weeks in advance and is excited when she sees a paper on her desk when she walks in on the day only to find it is a list of emails she needs to write today :/

coworker!reader becoming her secret admirer and leaving her notes around the office saying how you much you like her hair when it's up and OMG. office halloween party where you 'meet' each other but you're wearing a mask so she can't tell who you are........waiittttt...

[heavyhitterheaux]

All I Want For Christmas is..... a Telfar bag

First Lady of Private Garden Fic

AN: fluff from our favorite babies 😘💕

Synopsis: This is your first Christmas as a couple and you want to get the perfect gifts for each other

Pairing: Baby!Jack Harlow x Baby!Reader

Requested by: my darling @neon-lights-and-glitter and multiple anons 🥰💖

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

First Lady of Private Garden Masterlist

To say that you were stressed was an understatement.

This would be your first Christmas that you had a boyfriend and you had no idea what to get him and you wanted for your gift to be perfect. 

When you had originally asked Jack right after Thanksgiving, he said that he didn’t care what you had gotten him and that he was focusing on you since your birthday was the first week of December.

That’s how he was, always thinking about you before himself. 

You hated that he gave you that as his answer.

So of course that’s where Urban was going to be of help to you.

You quickly sent him a text asking for suggestions on what to get his best friend. It helped since he had known him a lot longer than you have. 

You- Urby!

Urban- What?

You- I will slap you through the phone, don’t you what me!

Urban- Hello, best friend. How can I be of assistance to you today?

You- That’s more like it. I need help deciding on a Christmas gift for Jack

Urban- Stick a bow on top of your head and put yourself under the tree. He’ll fold.

You- URBAN HENRY BE SERIOUS PLEASE!

Urban- I was being serious! All he probably wants for Christmas is you!

You- Cut the shit Mariah Carey

Urban- Well the one thing that I can think of that he’s been wanting is a pair of new balances

You- Hmm, that’s a thought. I could probably do that.

Urban- I already know what he got you

You- SPILL IT WYATT

Urban- Gotta go. Byeeeee.

You- GET BACK HERE!

Urban- See you at school on Monday!

Just then Jack was calling you on facetime and you quickly answered.

“Boo bear!” You exclaimed as you saw his face come on the screen and immediately smiled.

“Hey gorgeous, what are you up to?”

“Trying to decide on the perfect gift to get you. I asked Urban and he told me to stick a bow on top of my head and lay underneath the tree.”

“That might be the smartest thing that he’s ever said.”

“SERIOUSLY?! What am I going to do with the two of you?”

“Absolutely nothing. You’re stuck with us. Anyway, I have a surprise for you if you’re up for it.”

“I’m listening.”

“I just have to get my mom to drive us, but be ready by 7 and I’ll come and get you.”

“Can I have a hint as to what it is?”

“Nope. Get ready and I’ll see you soon.”

You quickly took a shower and decided on an outfit that would hopefully keep you warm. It was only about 20 degrees outside. 

It was 6:55 when you heard the doorbell ring and flew down the steps in order to open the door for your boyfriend.

You quickly embraced him as he leaned down to kiss you and you couldn’t do anything but smile.

“Hi.”

“Hi, baby girl. You ready to go?”

You eagerly nodded your head and Jack grabbed your hand in order to lead you to where Maggie’s car was.

“Hi mama Maggie!” You greeted her as you and Jack slid into the backseat and she immediately smiled at you.

“Hi sweetheart! You two ready?”

Both of you nodded as she started driving.

You were fascinated with the Christmas decorations passing you by before deciding to ask Jack where he was taking you. 

“Now can you tell me what it is?” You curiously asked as you grabbed Jack’s hand. 

“Remember how you said that you wanted to go ice skating but it would get too warm in Atlanta so you were never able to do it?”

“Yes?”

“We’re going ice skating.”

You instantly got a look of panic on your face.

“I’m going to fall right on my face.”

“No you won’t. I promise to hold onto you the entire time.”

“I have no idea how to even do it!”

“I’m going to be with you and I won’t let anything happen to you!”

“Just make sure my mom’s number is on speed dial, better yet make that 911.”

“Y/N, we aren’t going to need the paramedics.”

“Speak for yourself.”

Jack was currently helping you lace up your skates as Urban, Quiiso, Ace, 2fo, and Shloob were doing laps around the rink.

“Jack, are you sure these are tight enough?”

“Yes, babe. I promise. You ready?”

You were beyond terrified but knew that he wouldn’t let anything happen to you. 

“I guess.”

“COME ON Y/N!” Urban yelled and you quickly stuck up your middle finger at him. 

“SHUT UP URBY!”

“Baby, you have to stand up in order for us to be able to skate.” Jack said while looking at you. 

“Oh, I guess you’re right.”

Jack helped you stand up and make your way over to the entrance of the rink. Jack stepped onto the ice first before turning around to help you.

“I got you, baby. I promise.”

You nodded your head as you took your first step onto the ice and Jack quickly grabbed both of your hands.

“See? Not so bad right?”

“No, not so bad.”

Just then 2fo glided past the two of you.

“It’s about time, lovebirds!”

“I had to make sure my girl was good! She doesn’t want to be around yall anyway!” Jack said while shaking his head at him before turning back to you.

“Ready?”

You simply nodded as Jack held onto your hand and the two of you began to make your way around the rink.

“You sure you haven’t done this before?”

“I’m sure, not as scary as I thought it was going to be.” You added being completely honest.

“And you were over here thinking that we would need the paramedics.”

“Nothing wrong with being prepared!”

Just then Urban came on the other side of you and was skating backwards.

“Showoff. I hope you fall.” You said as you rolled your eyes at him. 

“Look, this date was my idea so stop being an ass. Your boyfriend asked for my help.” 

“Date? How is it a date when the rest of yall big headed selves are here?” You curiously asked while looking around at all of them. 

“I HEARD THAT!” 2fo yelled from behind you and you simply rolled your eyes.

“Besides, you know you love being around us.”

“Correction. I love being around my boyfriend.”

“Oh! Y/N! Did you get my gift yet?” You heard Shloob ask and you rolled your eyes.

“Your gift is about to be my foot up your ass! Now stop distracting me so that I don’t fall!”

“Like Jack will ever let that happen.”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

“BABY!”

“Oh, did I say that out loud?”

“That’s it. No hot chocolate for you.”

“Wait! I take it back!”

—-

It was now December 25th at midnight and Jack had told you the week prior that he wanted to do the first one to give you your Christmas gift and he was hoping that you liked it.

You didn’t care what he had gotten you at this point.

You were fine with a hug and a kiss.

So there you two were in your matching pajamas in your room since Jack had climbed up to your window a few minutes before ready to hand over your gifts to each other.

“Here, babe. I hope you like it.” Jack handed you a pink box with a white bow on top and you couldn’t help but to be excited. 

“I know I will because you bought it for me.” You responded being completely honest.

You opened the box to see a pink Telfar bag staring back at you.

“Babe, no you fucking didn’t.” You said being floored.

Telfar bags definitely were not cheap and he had to have saved up his allowance in order to buy it for you.

“Yes, I fucking did because I know my baby wanted this. You would talk about getting one nonstop and I know you said that you only wanted the small one, but I figured why not get you the bigger one so you can fit more things in it. I’ve seen your purse and I’m convinced that Clay could fit in there.”

“Jack….” You said while your eyes were starting to water.

“Babe, don’t cry!”

“I CAN’T HELP IT!”

Jack then slid you onto his lap in order to get you to calm down and you simply handed him his gift.

“I’m okay! I’m okay! Here, open yours.”

Jack ripped off the wrapping paper to see that it was a New Balance shoe box staring back at him.

“Are these the new 550’s?!?”

“You aren’t going to know until you open the box!”

Jack finally opened the box to see the latest version of the 550’s staring back at him.

“BABE!”

“I know you always mention how the 550’s are your favorite so I knew I had the perfect gift idea.”

“Thank you for this.”

“And thank you for my bag.”

“And one more thing.”

“What’s that?”

Jack reached into his pocket to pull out a mini mistletoe and hung it above the both of you.

“I could use a Christmas kiss.”

“Anything for my boo bear.”

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[pinkglacierz]

Thanksgiving Platters {Decor} ♡

MHMMM, YA'LL KNOW HOW I'M COMING !! November Is My FAVORITE Month ! 

Not Only Is It Thanksgiving But My Birthday Is Also In November & Sometimes Lands On Thanksgiving ! ♡

Item Description :

- ALL LODS

- Found In Decor/Clutter/Misc.

- 7 Thanksgiving Platters

Foods Included :

- Baked Mac & Cheese

- Cornbread

- Collard Greens

- Potato Salad

- Roasted Turkey Slices

- Sweet Potatoes w. Marshmallows

- Mashed Potatoes w. Gravy

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