#target hours christmas eve

[srsumeet]

What’s open and closed on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day 2024?

Read More

Read More

[choking-on-roses]

Here's a thought.

If you want things to "feel" like Christmas, you need to put some effort in.

Put up those Christmas decorations even though it's a chore.

Buy a gift for someone even though the shops are crowded and wrapping gifts sucks.

Make plans with people you care about even if it's a pain in the ass.

Buy a stupid Christmas sweater and wear it. Do some Christmas baking.

And most importantly, go find the people in your life (probably women lbr) and thank them for all the tireless effort they put in to make sure you had a festive Christmas in your childhood.

Don't just sit around and refuse to contribute and then complain that it doesn't "feel" like Christmas.

[miloalli14]

[patriciasnewsblog]

🎄✨ Last-Minute Christmas Day Needs? We’ve Got You Covered!

From grocery runs to quick bites or emergency shopping, discover which stores are open on Christmas Day 2024. Don’t stress—find what you need and keep the holiday spirit alive! 🎁 https://patriciasnewsblog.wordpress.com/2024/12/25/christmas-day-2024-shopping-guide-open-stores-hours/

[kiemiu]

christmas wrapping | ( fem!reader ) fluff + soft hours. established relationship headcanons wc 953 ( kiemiu's fluffmas masterlist )

boyfriend!matt who likes to slow dance to christmas music with you. usually later in the evening when everyone else has shuffled off into their own room and it's just the two of you together. the only light you have illuminates from the decorated christmas tree and the tv that's on a christmas radio station. he'll hold you close under a thick blanket and gently sway in the living room with you. his head deep in the crook of your neck as he hums along to the familiar melody. he'll let out a dreamy sigh before whispering sweet nothings to you, continuing to hold you close and sink into your embrace.

boyfriend!matt who takes you to christmas light shows. he'll drive around different neighborhoods and take you to light shows where you can watch from the comfort of his car. both of you eating warm cinnamon flavored treats while looking at the sparkling lights in awe. both of you pointing out what movies you recognize in the decorations and jokingly setting up your own theories of how high you think their light bill will be.

boyfriend!matt who forces you to watch movies with him everyday. he'll force you to make a joint letterboxd account with him so you can record every christmas movie you watch together throughout the month. you and him both switch every other day to record the holiday movies you watch together. sometimes he'll get a little lazy and just turn on a random holiday classic that plays throughout the christmas season 70 different times, other times he gets really involved in the movies and will sometimes get upset at you if you're on your phone or fall asleep during it. there will be an argument on if 'die hard' is a christmas movie.

boyfriend!matt who likes to make a competition out of everything. whether it's baking, constructing gingerbread houses, building snowmen, or skating faster at the ice rink, it doesn't matter, all of it turns into a competition to see who can do what better. he always mocks and laughs at you when he wins, but ends up silently pouting (and then denying that he's pouting) when he loses. in the end, it's all for fun and he enjoys how you make him feel like a little kid again whenever you play into his antics.

boyfriend!matt who warms you up after your snowball fights. he'll drag you outside just to pelt you with snowballs and then drag you inside to warm you up. he'll take a warm bath with you first, and then when you're all cozy in your pj's, he'll ask you to pick out a good movie while he makes hot chocolate with marshmallows and whipped cream, his excitement evident as he makes his way towards you so he can snuggle deeply under the thick piles of blankets and cuddle with you to a christmas classic.

boyfriend!matt who buys you matching ugly sweaters. he bought them when he was shopping with nick. he saw the cute sweaters and just knew he had to get them for the both of you. he loved how it was decorated with his favorite christmas movie and he knew you'd love the obnoxious lights and tinsel that decorated the sleeves of it. he didn't show you the sweaters until the night of christmas eve and made you wear it with him on christmas day as you unwrapped presents together.

boyfriend!matt who puts his cold hands on exposed parts of your body. any time matt leaves out to do his own thing, and returns with a red nose and freezing hands, the first thing he loves to do is touch you. it annoys you beyond belief which is why he keeps doing it. every time you let out a shrill scream and swat his hands away from you, he'll laugh until his throat hurts and his limbs feel weak, always calling you dramatic but also reacting the exact same way when you do it to him.

boyfriend!matt who adores holiday shopping dates. he'll let you drag him around target as well as every shopping mall you feel the need to explore, there's never a dull moment with you, so he'll happily comply to all of your requests. he loves to go into 'lush' and 'bath and body works' to smell the candles with you, he'll help you pick out a signature holiday scent, but then he'll complain about the headache he gets as you leave the store. when you walk past 'victoria's secret' he likes to make sly comments, joking about 'sexy santa lingerie' , and although he might play it off as a joke, you can tell he secretly likes the idea. he's also just as in involved in the shopping as you are, always picking up random items and asking if you'd think chris or nick would like it as a christmas present.

boyfriend!matt who records you opening your christmas gifts. he records you on his vlog camera as you open your presents. he truly has no intention on posting it, but seeing you burst with excitement while your face lights up over gifts you could only dream of receiving, makes him want to remember this moment for years to come. he gets shy when it's his turn and you record him while he opens his own gifts, but he loves it nonetheless. in the back of his mind he tells himself it'll be a part of a video compilation he plays on the night of your wedding.

boyfriend!matt who whispers to you in the dead of night while you're asleep and tucked under his arm, for many more christmases to experience together.

' 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ' 🎁: @emely9274 @ginswife @chrisstvrns @conspiracy-ash @sturnina @lovetaylorrussellgrr @nervoussagittarius @sacaydia @chrissturnsss @hearts4werka @chrisprincesss @koilaniazul @starsforu @sturn777 @sturniolosiphone @chrisfavoritewhore @sturnsmia @leaningoutthewindow

[janeyseymour]

Christmas Traditions

it's sad girl hours and this was not edited in the slightest but i hope it doesnt suck okay i will go back into my depression pile of blankets bye

Summary: Christmas and the holiday season comes with many traditions. Melissa indulges you, but she springs a few surprises out along the way.

WC: ~4.6k

Christmas and the holiday season has always been one of your favorite times of year. From the time you were a kid all the way up until now, you’ve leaned into every single Christmas tradition that you can find and figure out. It doesn’t matter that some traditions may be a bit different here in America as opposed to the ones that you have back in Ireland- they bring you joy all the same.

This is your fourth year celebrating Christmas in Philly, but it’s your first Christmas living with your girlfriend Melissa. It’s also your first Christmas without your parents flying across the Atlantic to come and be with you. You’re elated to celebrate with the redhead, but you can’t help but be brought down in spirits at the quiet reminders that your parents won’t be joining you. So instead of letting yourself drown in your sorrows, you fully throw yourself into Christmas festivities.

“My love,” Melissa chuckles as she watches the amount of decorations that you’re putting in the cart at Target on Black Friday. “Do we really need all of this stuff?”

“Of course we do!” you reply with a kiss to her cheek. “I still can’t believe that you don’t decorate unless I’m around!”

Your girlfriend goes to say how it just isn’t worth all of the effort, but who is she to ruin your good spirits? Instead of scoffing, she just chuckles and pats your shoulder. “I was just waiting for the girl who would make it all worth it.”

You beam at her words of affection.

By the time you’re finished stocking up on decorations for the house, you’re pushing a cart, and so is Melissa. You hand your card over sheepishly without even looking at the final amount that you owe- you don’t really want to know how much you just spent.

You can only guess that it’s a ridiculous amount of money seeing the way that your girlfriend’s emerald eyes widen as big as saucers, followed by her shaking her head as she pinches the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger.

“Dear God,” the redhead mumbles. “My Christmas bonus better be good this year.”

When the two of you get back to the house and unload the car, Melissa begins to unravel some of the lights. You frantically reach for the bag and begin stuffing the string that she had undone back into the plastic.

“Hun, what?” your girlfriend looks to you.

“It’s tradition that we decorate on the December 8th!” you tell her with a giggle. “I may be in America now, but I do like to keep some of my Irish traditions.”

The redhead, used to having cameras to catch her incredulous looks, turns in search of one, but comes up empty. “What other traditions are there that I haven’t been privy too for the past three years?”

Your eyes twinkle as you explain the many traditions that you followed in your home country, some that she knows you follow, others that she has yet to experience with you. You tell her of the tradition of Midnight mass on Christmas Eve (which usually isn’t actually at Midnight), to which she tells you that’s a tradition for her too. You explain how Ireland loves their Christmas markets filled with merry and bright spirits. Melissa promises she’ll take you to Christmas Village in center city, and if you really want, she’ll venture to take you out to see the various light shows and markets around Philadelphia and the suburbs of Philly. You tell her how your brother used to make you do a Christmas Day Swim with him; you let her know that you will not be participating in that tradition here. You tell her of the boxes of biscuits and how it almost always started a fight in your family because nobody wanted that last cookie to finish off the layer and be able to start the new one. You speak of how your family back in Ireland always puts a ring of Holly on the door as you point to the bag that has the wreath in it. She’s especially excited to partake in your tradition of 12 pubs- and you tell her that you think you might want to do it with the Abbott crew since your family won’t be here to do it with you this year. 

For as much as your eyes were sparkling as you speak of the traditions that you hold back in Ireland, when you reach the one that perhaps means the most to you, a sadness creeps into your eyes.

“And the reason I bought all of those candles…” you trail off quietly. “It’s an old custom, and I- I know my mam has one in each window all year round. It’s to welcome strangers and to remember those who are far from home.” You sniffle quietly. “Mam keeps them there as a reminder that we are always welcome back home.”

Your girlfriend isn’t quite sure how to respond to that, so she settles for just kissing you softly and wiping away the tear that slipped down your cheek.

You laugh just slightly bitterly. “God, this is supposed to be fun. I shouldn’t be sitting here crying.”

“It’s okay to miss your family,” your girlfriend reminds you. “That’s perfectly normal, especially around the holidays.”

“I think I’d rather just throw myself into celebrating and getting into the Christmas spirit here and at Abbott.”

And because you begin to throw yourself into the Christmas spirit to distract yourself from the blues, Melissa finds herself also participating in festivities that she usually wouldn’t do otherwise.

As soon as December hits, you have that silly little elf in your classroom and causing mayhem to entertain your students. When Melissa comes to pick her students up from your art class, her children are instantly asking why you have an elf but she doesn’t- why doesn’t Santa want them to be watched in her class? Your girlfriend sends you a huge glare; she hates that stupid elf tradition, and it will only cause her classroom to be destroyed every day with the mischief that the ‘elf’ will get into. Nevertheless, she promises her students that she knows Santa, and she’ll ask him to send one of his finest workers to her classroom.

You get a text from your lovely girlfriend mere minutes after she’s picked her students up from your class.

I hate you for this, you read.

You chuckle at your phone before typing out, No you don’t. You love me.

Just know that you’re in charge of my elf.

The next morning, her classroom has an elf, and her room has been decorated by ‘Buddy’. Her students are thrilled, and you can’t help but grin brightly when she tells you that her students love the decorations that you put up.

On December 8th, a Sunday, you wake up bright and early. Decorating is something that you have always absolutely adored doing.

“Babe!” you jump on your girlfriend with a grin that morning.

Melissa groans. “Y/N.”

“It’s December 8th! We have to start decorating!”

The redhead only responds by pulling you on top of her. She holds you tightly to her chest and presses a soft kiss to your temple. “Five more minutes.”

“That’s five minutes of time we could spend decorating!” you tell her.

Melissa peels her eyes open and glances at the alarm clock. “Hun, it’s… eight in the morning.”

“And we’re usually up at 6:30 for school,” you tell her matter of factly. “We slept in an hour and a half longer than usual!”

Green eyes roll, but she does allow you to pull her to a sit. “Do you know how lucky you are that I love you?”

“I’m the luckiest girl alive!” you giggle as you kiss her nose. “How about this? I make breakfast and coffee while you wake up, and then we can start decorating?”

When you see the beginning of a head nod, you leap out of bed and practically sprint down to the kitchen.

“Woman has damn near lost her mind,” the second grade teacher grumbles as she pulls herself out of the warm bed and follows you downstairs.

You already have bacon in the pan and the coffee brewing by the time you feel Melissa’s arms wind around your waist. Breakfast is quiet, and then you’re practically bouncing in your seat with excitement to decorate.

“Alright, mi amore,” your girlfriend chuckles. “Let’s get decorating.”

By mid-afternoon, you have just about everything decorated. The banister is wrapped with green, the Christmas tree is up and adorned with lights, tinsel and ornaments with the star sitting atop it’s tip, her flat surfaces are covered in trinkets that make you think of winter and Christmas, the holly is hung on her door. The outside is strung with lights that you know will look stunning at night. Melissa can only chuckle along and indulge in your love of the holidays.

The last thing that you have to do is put up the candles in the windows- something that you don’t necessarily want to do because you know it will bring down your spirits, but it must be done. So with a glint of sadness in your eyes, you line each window in the house with a candle. You know that across the ocean, your mother and father have already decorated, and their candles are out too- a quiet promise that home is always waiting for you when you need it.

As you look at the candle sitting in the front window somewhat longingly, your girlfriend knows what she has to do- somehow, she has to get your parents over here for Christmas. Her arms snake around your shoulders, and she pulls you close to her.

“You did a nice job, mi amore,” Melissa tells you earnestly. “It looks great.”

You lean into her affections, a sad smile on your face. “Can we watch a Christmas movie?”

“You don’t want to go to Christmas Village?” 

“Not today,” you sigh softly. “I’m kind of tired from decorating.”

“Then a Christmas movie sounds great,” your girlfriend smiles as she kisses your cheek. “Go get comfortable.”

It only takes about ten minutes for you to change into your favorite pair of flannel pajama bottoms with the Grinch on them and for the redhead to get popcorn before the two of you are settled in on the couch.

It takes about thirty minutes of laying on the couch with your girlfriend’s fingers weaving through your hair gently for you to fall asleep. Your girlfriend glances at the clock. It’s not too late to call your parents and try to orchestrate getting them here to surprise you for Christmas. She video calls them.

“Hello?” your mother answers.

“Hey,” the redhead smiles into the phone. “It’s Melissa. Listen, I was thinking… you should come join us for Christmas this year.”

Your father furrows his brow. “Is Y/N okay? Where is my girl?”

Melissa pans the camera so your parents can see that you’re sound asleep on top of her. “She’s okay, just a bit down that the two of you aren’t here. We decorated today, and she set out the candle, and it kind of upset her.”

Your mother sighs softly. “My poor girl. We just don’t have the money to fly out this year.”

“What if I offered to pay for your flights, and you can stay with us?” Melissa bargains. “We can surprise her, and I think she’ll want the two of you to be here when I give her her Christmas present.”

Both of your parents brighten at that- they know what you’re getting for Christmas from the redhead. “You think we can pull off surprising her?”

“I think so,” the second grade teacher chuckles. “I doubt she would be onto us, as long as we aren’t too obvious.”

And so, by the time you wake up from your slumber, your parents have a flight to Philly and back for the day before Christmas Eve, a hotel room to stay in for that one night, and a flight back to Ireland after the new year- not that you have any inkling of what’s going to take place.

The next weekend, Melissa takes you out to Christmas Village in center city. You spend the day drinking spiked hot cocoa and hanging off of her. It’s sweet, it’s warm, it’s cozy- it always is as long as you’re with that wonderful girlfriend of yours. Your gloved hand is somehow always in hers, or her arm is wrapped around your waist. You find little trinkets that are all too expensive but purchase them anyway in the spirit of Christmas. It helps lift your spirits, but when you get home, you see those candles again. Your heart sinks just slightly, but you have to admit that you’re quite ready to curl up with your girlfriend in yet another pair of fuzzy pajama pants and watch another Christmas movie.

It feels like December simultaneously goes by like it’s nothing and also drags on as you wait for your favorite holiday. But finally, Winter break is upon you, and you find yourself getting ready to go out for 12 pubs night with the Abbott clan.

“Thank you for doing this for me.” You kiss Melissa’s cheek as the two of you put on ugly sweaters and cozy pajama bottoms to go out in.

“I know how much you love your traditions,” your girlfriend rolls her eyes playfully. “Just know that next year, there ain’t no damn way I’m putting on a ridiculous sweater again to go out.”

“That’s not what I was talking about,” you giggle, but you nod. “I meant thank you for letting the crew come here and stay over if needed after tonight.”

“Oh,” your girlfriend sighs out. “That. I’d rather them stay safe if we’re going to get as hammered as we did last year.”

You laugh at the reminder of what happened last year- you had barely made it home in one piece, your parents hanging off of you, more drunk than you think you had ever seen them.

It isn’t long before your work friends are at your house, dropping their things in various rooms that they’ll be staying in. Jacob grins when he’s allowed to go put his things in what used to be his room before you came into the picture.

As Mr. Johnson wanders in, he makes an offhanded comment about all of your apparel.

“Never thought I’d see the day badass Melissa Schemmenti would be in the ugliest sweater I’ve ever seen,” Ava comments. She turns to you. “You got her wrapped around your little finger.”

“Whipped,” Mr. Johnson grins. “As the kids would say.” He then accompanies his words with a whipping motion and sound effect, much to the displeasure of your girlfriend. 

“So,” Janine bounces on her toes in excitement. “What are the rules?”

“Well,” you smile. “Everyone already did a great job with the first rule of wearing a Christmas jumper. But, we will be going to twelve bars tonight. Each bar has it’s own rule, and if you break a rule, you have to finish off your drink in one go. Additionally, every four bars, we have to drink a pint of water so nobody actually gets hurt doing this…” You shudder at the memory (or lack thereof) of a few Christmases ago. “Finally, we can only be at each bar for thirty minutes.”

“Oh hell yeah,” Mr. Johnson fist pumps. “I was made to win this game.”

“I’m just so glad to be immersing myself in other cultures,” the history teacher smiles.

“Try to keep up boy,” Ava rolls her eyes. “You’ll be on the floor by the fourth bar.”

Janine gives Gregory a nervous glance, but he just wraps am arm around her shoulder and squeezes gently, promising that he’ll cut her off when needed.

And Barb, who somehow managed to find a Christmas sweater with pirates on it, declares that Sea Barbara is coming out tonight. 

At the first bar, you aren’t allowed to use your dominant hand for anything. Jacob forgets quickly and has to down his beer. At the second bar, there is a no swearing rule. Ava’s first word is “fuck” when she sees her ex-boyfriend. She chooses to shotgun her seltzer. At the bar where you aren’t allowed to use nicknames, Melissa calls you “babe” and she calls Barbara “Barb”. With a roll of those striking green eyes, she finishes off her drink. At the bar where nobody is allowed to use their native language, you’re forced to finish off your beer when you give up on trying to perfect your American accent. Once you’ve ordered your waters, Janine declares that she thinks she’s finished drinking for the night- to which Gregory agrees. Jacob informs the group that he believes he maybe has one or two more bars in him, and then he may have to tap out.

Once all of the pints of water are finished, your group races off to the next destination- the one where if you get there last you’ll be forced to sing a Christmas song off the rest of the group’s choosing. Poor Mr. Johnson has to give a terrible performance of “Dominic the Donkey”, complete with the animal noises. Jacob taps out after beer comes out of his nose from laughing so hard. That leaves you, your girlfriend, Barbara, Gregory, Ava, and Mr. Johnson to continue on with this challenge. At the arm pub, Sea Barbara finally comes out, and your girlfriend has to convince her to keep her shoes on because of the near freezing temperatures. Melissa holds your beer, she holds Barb’s, Barb holds Gregory’s, he holds Ava’s (much to her surprise and happiness), and the principal gets tasked with holding Mr. Johnson’s. At the no toilet pub, you all unfortunately lose that challenge, and you’re out of that bar in less than the allotted thirty minutes. Gregory taps out after that one. The eighth bar, you’re all forced to compliment a stranger. You almost lose the fiery principal at this bar because when you look away for one second, her lips are locked with a man’s. Waters are downed quickly. And then you’re onto the final four bars.

You’re drunk, Melissa is getting to the point in her drunkenness where she just wants to hang off of you. Sea Barbara has taken to speaking in an accent- if only you had gone to the accent bar once she had already hit this point. Ava and Mr. Johnson both seem to be doing quite alright though. You’re beginning to wonder if they have been drinking for the last few bars.

At bar nine, you have to take a shot. That’s an easy in and out kind of bar. At the no phone bar, Ava immediately breaks the unspoken rule of no documenting this outing as she goes live on Instagram to show the charades that the five of you are all partaking in. You choose a terrible shot- one that if Ava or Mr. Johnson don’t take, you’ll know. It’s quite clear that they are indeed drinking when you see their faces, and Ava’s voice rings through loudly.

“What the fuck is this shit?” the principal screeches. “Why would you get this for us?”

Melissa just chuckles. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“What the hell you mean that wasn’t-”

Barbara taps out after that one when she begins gagging after the shot goes down. “That was awful.”

And so, at the eleventh and twelfth bar, it’s down to you, Melissa, Ava, and Mr. Johnson.

“Can I have a pint of Heineken please, Guinness?” the four of you ask. And as luck would have it, you’re all served Guinness. Yours is downed easily, having a taste for the Irish drink. Melissa makes a face once hers is gone. Ava once again takes a video of herself drinking the beverage. Mr. Johnson shrugs, and the liquid goes down in one swallow- how he’s able to do that, you don’t think you want to know.

“And on that note,” Melissa wipes the beer that dribbled down her chin with the hem of her sleeve. “I think I’m done.”

“No!” you protest. “You almost completed the challenge! We just have to get to the last bar!”

Your girlfriend stumbles down the road with you to the last bar.

“Everyone has to get a drink at the last bar,” you tell them with a drunken smile. “I’ll even allow you all to choose your own drink so there’s no gagging.”

By some Grace of God, nobody ends up hugging the porcelain that night. The next morning, however, nobody is thrilled to be awake. The eight of you all claim that you’re never drinking again.

“Until New Years!” Ava chimes in as she rubs at her temples.

It takes until about noon for your last guest to head out, and then it’s just you and your girlfriend laying on the couch attempting to revive yourselves from these killer hangovers.

“It was fun though,” you sigh softly.

Melissa groans. “I’m gettin’ to be too old for this shit.”

Christmas Eve finally comes and presents itself, and you find yourself in the midst of a chaotic as ever Schemmenti Christmas dinner. Seeing your girlfriend with your family reminds you of what you’re missing out on this year, and you have to excuse yourself for a few minutes to shed a few tears. Of course, your absence doesn’t go unnoticed by the redhead of the family.

“Mi amore?” you hear your girlfriend before you see her.

You quickly wipe at the tears threatening too escape your eyes. “I’m fine. Just missing my mam and dad right now a little more than I expected to.” Your eyes wander to the candle that’s sitting in the window above your bed.

“You’re allowed to miss them,” Melissa tells you softly as she sits on the bed next to you.

“I know,” you mumble as you lean into her. “I just didn’t think it would hit me this hard. I miss Ireland.”

“Just a few more months, and we’ll be in Dublin for Spring break with your parents,” your girlfriend offers quietly as she kisses your temple. She doesn’t reveal that you’ll be reunited with your parents tonight at Mass once your guests leave.

You hum, wipe your tears, take a steadying breath, and stand. “Alright. I’m good. Let’s get back down there.”

It’s a bit later that you’re cleaning up after the Schemmentis leave for the night. Mass starts at ten, so you have a bit of time to clean up and freshen yourself up before you have to head to your parish. 

The two of you exit the car and walk to the church hand in hand. You’re seated in your pew and chatting quietly with each other when you feel someone tap your shoulder.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?” a voice asks- a voice that you know so well but aren’t expecting to hear.

In an instant, you’re whipping around to look at the person beside you, and there are your parents in the flesh. Your arms are wrapped around them tightly and happy tears flow as you truly grapple with the fact that they’re here in Philly with you for Christmas.

This year is the first and probably only year that you end up missing Christmas Eve mass.

“How- how are you here?” you ask as you practically skip down the street back to your car. “I thought you couldn’t make it work!”

“That girlfriend of yours really loves you,” your father chuckles. “Got us tickets to and from Dublin.”

You practically jump on your girlfriend, kissing her fiercely. “I can’t believe you did this for me!”

Melissa just shrugs with a laugh as she kisses you back gently. “I know what my girl wants.”

It’s a nice and warm Christmas Eve, the four of you drinking beers and catching up on life before you feel your eyes beginning to grow tired. As much as you want to keep your eyes open, you find them drifting as you continue to try to keep up with the conversation.

“Just like you’ve always been,” your mother tells you with soft eyes. “I think it’s time you head up to bed, love.”

With a quiet sigh, you heave yourself up from the couch and make your way into the kitchen. You grab a plate and set a few cookies out on it before reaching for the Heineken that you had bought a bit earlier in the day. You set it on the coffee table with a smile before making your way over to your mother and hugging her tightly.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” you whisper as you kiss her cheek. “Thank you for coming.”

You reach for your father. “In case Santa wants a treat,” you tell him cheekily as you press a kiss to his cheek. “I love you guys. Goodnight.”

You’re asleep almost as soon as your head hits the pillow.

Come Christmas morning, you’re up bright and early with a smile on your face. You practically dance your way down the steps, and you squeal with childlike delight at the half eaten stack of cookies and finished off beer. Melissa can only chuckle at your antics.

The two of you exchange presents quietly as you wait for your parents to wake up. It’s wonderful.

When your mom and dad (finally) make their way down the steps, breakfast is served. Melissa really outdoes herself today. The meal is light and warm, and filled with cheerful conversation. And then the four of you make your way back into the living room, and you settle in your seat by the Christmas tree.

“So, I actually have one more present for you,” your girlfriend tells you.

You raise a brow. “Mel, I thought we said only two gifts each.”

“Well, I think this one is the exception,” she tells you softly.

You don’t notice that your mother had strategically set up her phone to record what is about to take place.

“Okay?” you lean forward with excitement. The redhead hands you the small box wrapped in beautiful gold paper and lined with red ribbon. 

By design, it takes you a few second to get the wrapping paper off of of the box and open it. In that time, your girlfriend subtly slips herself off of the couch, pulls the ring box out of her sweatshirt pocket, and is on one knee.

There’s an ornament in the box, and it has the inscription, “Our first Christmas engaged”.

“What?” you whisper to yourself as you thumb over the beautiful script. “Melissa.” And when you turn to face her on the couch, you don’t see her green eyes like you expect to. You lower your eyesight, and there is the second grade teacher down on her knee.

“Marry me?” she asks simply.

You just stare at her, eyes wide, with your hands clapped over your mouth. You can’t believe that she’s asking you to marry her.

“Say something!” your dad implores you to answer.

“Yes!” You tackle her on the floor in a hug, and your now fiancee can only laugh as she attempts to slip the ring on your finger.

It’s only a few hours later that your parents are asleep on the couch, and you’re laying on top of Melissa by the Christmas tree, admiring the rock that now sits on your finger perfectly.

“Good Christmas?” she asks you softly.

You nod and lean up to kiss her. “The best.”

TAGS:  (and let me know if you want to be included!): @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @sweetcheeksschemmenti @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @a-queen-and-her-throne @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo @m1lflov3rrr @ricejucie @temilyrights @emilynissangtr @squinnchy @dopenightmaretyphoon @emeraldoceansstuff @shinyfaerielights  @blkmxrvel @marvelwomenrule @sarahjohannson @casualfoxwitch @babytakeittothehead @schemmentits

[babejinxy]

Jinx x f!reader special new year

✨ I wasn't going to write a New Year's special, but since I'm nice and you guys wanted it, here it is!!! This is the first part, I'll post the second part soon. I hope you like it!

🌟 English is not my first language, so I apologize if there are any mistakes.

It was the last day of the year and after your behavior on Christmas Eve, your girlfriend Jinx had been watching you the whole time, waiting for you to tease her again. But the truth is that you simply didn't do anything suspicious all day. You stayed in the hideout with Jinx and while she was working on something - which by the way she didn't tell you what it was - you were lying on the bed reading a book or changing your nail polish every half hour.

That night, Jinx also had something in store for you, just as you had for her. Since what you had planned for Christmas had gone a little off the rails, you saved it for tonight. And you started putting your plan into action early on.

While your girlfriend was focused on some project of hers, you got out of bed after changing your nail polish for the fourth time and went to her. You were wearing pajamas, the short shorts showing the edge of your ass. You sat on the edge of her workbench, she noticed you, but she was too focused on her work. “Hey babe, do you like it?” you asked innocently, holding out your hands so she could see your nails, painted blue like hers. You crossed your legs in the process, your shorts riding up, revealing a lot of your legs.

She lifted her head from her work and looked straight at your nails, “You like blue huh?”. “You know I do,” you said, lowering your hands and placing them on either side of your legs, holding onto the edge of the table. “They look amazing, toots,” she said, lifting her head to reach your lips, you lowered your head a little until your lips met hers and you gave a little kiss. Jinx’s eyes wandered over your legs before she went back to work.

“What are you doing?” you asked, jumping off the workbench and wrapping an arm around her. “A little something for later today,” she said grabbing a tool. “What are you planning?” you asked, curious and worried that she was planning to blow up Piltover on the first day of the year. She looked at you, “you’ll see, love,” and then she laughed and went back to doing what she was doing.

You had no idea what your crazy girlfriend was planning this time, but it must have been something big since she had been working on it for exactly a week. What you didn't know was why she had left you out of it this time, you were always up for anything with her and she knew it. But luckily for her, you were too easy-going to insist or get upset that she wasn't involving you in whatever she was up to. So you simply shrugged it off and went to throw darts to pass the time and practice your aim.

You threw the dart a few times and only hit the target once. You were usually a good aimer, but not today. Maybe the anxiety of starting to put your plan into practice was getting in your way. You snorted when you missed for the seventh time. You picked up another dart to try again and prepared to throw it at the target. But before you could throw it, you felt Jinx's left hand on your waist while the other was on your hand that was holding the dart. She adjusted the position of your hand while kissing and lightly biting your neck. "This makes it hard for me to concentrate, babe," you said, smiling and shivering at the sensation. She let go of your neck and looked at the target hanging on the wall. With her hand still in yours, she helped you with the throw and you hit the middle of the target.

“You were putting too much force in, peach,” she said, holding your waist with both hands now and pulling you against her. You felt her lips on your jaw and then on your neck again as she squeezed you with her hands. “Are you done yet?… mhmm,” you asked, closing your eyes and resting your head on her shoulder, giving her more space to kiss and suck on your neck. “I’m almost there… but for now, how about a break, huh?”, she bit your earlobe.

You thought this would be a good time to start putting your plan into action, so you turned to face her and wrapped your arms around her neck and kissed her. Jinx deepened the kiss and squeezed your waist, her hands moving down to your hips. You tangled your fingers in her short hair and she swirled her tongue in yours, dominating the kiss. She bit and pulled your lower lip with her teeth while her hands went to your ass and she squeezed it hard over the fabric of your pajama shorts.

When Jinx walked with you towards the bed, that's when you realized things were going to heat up even more, so before she could throw you on the bed, you broke the kiss and pulled away from her. "Hey wait, what's wrong toots?", she asked with furrowed eyebrows. You just shrugged, "there's nothing wrong, we can do this another time... I don't want to be late for Vi's dinner and you haven't even finished whatever it is you're doing". You walked past her and she pulled you again by the waist, locking you in her arms.

“And why not now? I can be pretty quick baby, you know,” she said, brushing her lips against the skin of your neck. You squeezed your eyes shut and bit your bottom lip, it was hard to resist her, but you were willing to do it. You wanted to tease her, you knew it would cost you a lot later, she would be rough with you, but you wanted it, you liked it. You took her hands off your waist, “not now baby.”

You were playing with luck, you knew that if your girlfriend wanted, she would grab you at any moment and with her strength thanks to the shimmer you couldn't fight her. Fortunately Jinx was different now and she respected your decisions. Although you knew that when she finally had your consent you would be fucked as fuck, very very fucked and you could wet your panties if you kept thinking too much about what she would do to you.

You threw yourself on the bed and picked up your book while Jinx went back to her workbench to finish her invention. She turned on the music and turned up the volume, she said it helped her focus and kept her thoughts away from her troubled mind. It was hard for you to focus on the book with the music blasting in your ears, but you weren't going to ask her to turn it off or lower the volume, you knew she wouldn't do that and she would also get annoyed with you, so you tried to read anyway.

You knew your girlfriend was done with her work when she finally turned down the music. You still had your eyes on your book, but you could see her coming towards you. You felt the mattress dip as she climbed onto the bed and crawled on top of you. She took the book from your hand and threw it in a corner, “I finished my project toots, but I’m not done with you yet,” she said kissing your jaw and bringing her lips up to yours.

The kiss was slow but hot. You brought your hands to her hair while she placed her right hand on your neck and held it firmly, but not tightly, and with the other she squeezed your waist and hips. Her tongue explored every corner of your mouth and she sucked your lower lip and then pulled it with her teeth. You moaned softly between the kiss because you knew it drove her crazy.

Jinx moved her kisses down to your neck where she alternated between kissing and biting. She placed the hand that was previously on your neck on your right breast and squeezed it, making you gasp. She moved her kisses down, making a path from your neck to your belly. She lifted the top of your pajamas a little to expose the skin on your abdomen, then she placed kisses and light bites on it.

She moved back up to your lips and took them against hers once more. But this time the kiss was fiercer, wilder and you knew she was getting really fucking horny. Not that you weren’t too, but you had to stop things before it was too late. So when Jinx dragged her left hand inside your shorts, you broke the kiss and asked breathlessly with your lips brushing hers, “babe, what are you doing?” “What? I can’t fuck my girlfriend?” she said, crashing her lips against yours again.

You placed your hands on her chest trying to push her off of you, she released your lips looking at you with a confused and irritated look, “of course you can love, but not now… I need to get ready for dinner and unfortunately I'm not as fast as you”, you took her hands out of your shorts and pushing her to the side you got up from the bed.

You were making her angry and you knew it, it was what you wanted. You bit your lower lip trying not to laugh as you turned your back to her. “You’re going to regret this behavior later, you know that, right? I won’t be so patient with you toots,” she said, throwing a gear somewhere in the corner of the room. You gave her an innocent look, “Why? Is it a sin if I refuse to have sex with you?” She walked towards you and said close to your ear as she passed you, “ha! baby, sin is what I’m going to do to you…”

Part 2??? 👇🏻🤍

[ang3lc]

Ophan!reader going to johnnies (bf/fiance/hubby) parents to meet them, and is like immediately accepted by his massive family (it’s cliche but cute)

the worms in my brain did a happy dance when I read this omg, ps I listened to all too well 10 min version while writing this

>> fluff, established relationship, Johnny x reader

The jolliest of seasons had arrived with December’s first snowfall. Soft, fluffy flakes floated down, tapping against the windowpane before gathering in a thick, gentle layer over the ground. Outside, string lights stretched from one side of the street to the other, casting a warm glow that made the whole block twinkle like a scene from a holiday postcard. The snow caught in the lights, making it look as though the whole street was dusted in stardust, each flake reflecting the winter wonderland that was forming.

Inside, the cozy warmth made the contrast even sweeter.

You and Johnny were nestled on the couch, wrapped up in each other's warmth as you watched the snow drift quietly outside. The low hum of the TV and the soft crackle of the fireplace were the only sounds in the room, creating a comforting, blissful silence. His warmth beside you, the steady rise and fall of his chest, made you feel safe and perfectly content despite the winter chill just beyond the walls.

"Edinburgh's beautiful this time of year, ya know?" Johnny murmured softly in your ear, his voice a gentle warmth against your skin. Your back was snugly pressed against his chest, the thick blanket you’d crocheted wrapped around the both of you, adding to the cozy cocoon.

"Ah was thinkin'," he continued, his tone a blend of tenderness and hope, "since ah ken how ye get around these times… maybe ye should come with me this year… meet my mam, my family."

You knew what he meant. Christmas. Family, joy, love—the things you’d always kept at a distance. But with Johnny, Christmas had started to feel like something magical, like a season worth celebrating.

"You think so?" you asked, turning to meet his gaze. His cerulean eyes were filled with warmth and certainty, a soft glow in the firelight that made your heart skip.

"Aye, lassie." he whispered, his voice sure and steady, wrapping you in a warmth that reached deeper than the blanket around you both.

By the end of that night, plane tickets were purchased, dates were set, and his family was well informed.

...

It was Christmas Eve, and you and Johnny were pulling into his mother’s driveway. As he parked, you glanced over at him, nerves fluttering in your chest. You worried about what his family might think, unsure of what to expect, how to act—and especially not feeling ready to celebrate Christmas.

You hadn’t known what to get anyone, or even what made a good Christmas gift, but Johnny had guided you through it. What was meant to be a quick trip to Target turned into two hours, $500, and a sack of gifts hefty enough to rival Santa’s.

Sensing your unease, Johnny turned to you, his eyes meeting yours with that familiar warmth. He placed his hand over yours, his steady touch calming the anxious knot in your stomach.

"They’re goin' tae love ye, Bon. Promise," he murmured reassuringly, his voice soft yet certain.

You nodded, exhaling a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. When Johnny saw that you were okay, he flashed you a reassuring smile and stepped out of the car, circling around to open your door. He pulled the massive sack of gifts from the trunk, giving it an amused look.

“Ah think ye overdid it, lass,” he chuckled, his smile so warm it felt like it could bring world peace.

Your cheeks flushed, wondering if maybe you had overdone it. You’d picked out gifts for everyone expected tonight—his parents, grandparents, three sisters, two brothers, and all six nieces and nephews.

“I just hope they like the gifts…” you murmured as he took your hand, balancing the sack over his other shoulder.

The door opened to reveal a petite woman who could only be Johnny’s mother. She had the same deep blue eyes, filled with that unmistakable kindness and warmth.

“Seven hells! Johnny, where ye been hidin' ‘er? Right bonnie lass, ain’t she?” his mother exclaimed, grinning as she stepped aside to welcome you both inside.

“Don' go scarin' 'er away no', Ma,” Johnny laughed, placing a gentle hand on the small of your back as your cheeks flushed. His mother shut the door behind you, mumbling something about keeping the house warm.

The moment Johnny spoke, a lively hum broke out from the living room, where nearly every face you’d bought gifts for was gathered. You braced yourself, expecting everyone to greet Johnny first while you stood awkwardly in the background, but reality couldn’t have been further from that.

Small children, all under ten, dashed over and hugged your legs as three beautiful women (Johnny’s sisters, you assumed) moved to embrace you, pressing warm kisses to your cheeks. They immediately pulled you into the family circle, showering you with questions and heartfelt compliments. It was as if Johnny wasn't even there.

Johnny’s mother could have left the door wide open, letting the winter winds blow through and settle into the bones of the house, and still, nothing could have cooled the warmth spreading through your heart.

mlist

[starryeyedjanai]

words that are hard to swallow

rated: teen | @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt: christmas tags: modern au, christmas gifts, birthday gifts, accidental come ons read on ao3

Steve doesn't know what to get for Eddie for Christmas so he finds an Etsy shop that does custom candles where you can choose the scent and the message on the candle.

Steve puts in the order note that he’s getting this for someone that probably likes woodsy scents and that the message can be the seller’s choice.

He doesn't look at it before wrapping it because it gets to him a day late in the mail, on Christmas Eve when everyone is exchanging gifts, and he barely has time to wrap it before he leaves to meet everyone for dinner.

Everyone exchanges gifts around the tree after dinner and Eddie pauses for a really long moment when he gets to Steve's gift and it makes him nervous.

Does he not like the scent? A candle seemed like a generic gift that anyone would like, but maybe Eddie is particular about his scents.

A minute passes and then Eddie leans over to say, “We should probably talk later,” before putting the candle back in its box.

Steve follows Eddie to his place after dinner, wondering the entire time if he somehow mortally offended him and when they get inside, he asks, “Did you not like it?”

Eddie says, “I mean, it was a weird time to give that to me, don't you think?”

Steve is confused. A weird time to give him a candle?

Eddie sees his confusion and says, “You have no idea what it says, do you?”

Steve shakes his head. “I told the Etsy shop to surprise me.”

Eddie laughs. “Oh, you’ll be surprised alright.”

He takes the candle out of the box and turns it around.

It reads Light me when you want a BJ.

Steve is obviously mortified.

When he goes back to it later, the Etsy listing was apparently for “Candles for Him, Husband, Boyfriend, 18+ Messages.” He thought it meant there were over 18 messages to choose from.

He sighs and vows to pay closer attention to the listing next time.

—

The next time he needs a gift for Eddie is his birthday and he really does mean to pick his gift up earlier because he’s known for a while what he wanted to get him. But he lost track of time and then suddenly Eddie’s sending him a reminder about his birthday dinner and Steve still hasn't gotten the gift.

He heads to Target hoping and praying the Lego set Eddie mentioned a few months ago is in stock.

He finds it, luckily, and heads to the card aisle, but he’s pressed for time, so he just grabs one in the birthday section and hopes the message doesn't have anything age specific in it.

The cashier rings him up and places the card face down on the envelope, asking if he wants it in the bag.

He says no and asks if she has a pen because he doesn't have one in his car.

He grabs the pen from her and writes Hope you have a great birthday! on the inside, shoving it into the envelope and into the bag before taking his credit card out of the reader.

He rushes out of the store and is only a few minutes late to dinner.

He tells Eddie he’ll give him his gift at his apartment since he forgot to get a gift bag, so he meets Eddie at his apartment afterwards and brings the Target bag inside.

Eddie is appropriately surprised and happy, wrapping Steve up in a hug when he sees what’s inside the bag.

“You wanna help me put this together?” Eddie asks, and Steve says yes because that’s also part of why he wanted to give it to Eddie here.

They start putting together the set, the Bomber Starfighter, and it takes hours to get even halfway through, so they call it a night and agree to finish it tomorrow.

When Steve shows up a few hours before his shift the next day to finish it, Eddie opens the door with an envelope in his hand—his card must have fallen to the bottom of the bag when they took the Lego set out.

“So I don't know if this was a ‘haha remember the weird candle I accidentally bought’ thing or a come on, but I nearly choked on my coffee this morning when I found this,” Eddie says, letting Steve inside.

“Oh fuck, what does it say?” Steve asks, cringing.

Eddie turns and looks at him. “No fucking way this was an accident. I’d buy that it was a gag card, but there’s no way you picked this up by accident.”

“I was running late and didn't have time to read through the cards in Target. I just went with one that looked plain and simple,” he says.

Eddie hands him the card.

On the front, it says I LOVE YOU FOR YOUR PERSONALITY, BUT THAT D*CK IS A REALLY NICE BONUS.

“Jesus christ,” Steve says. “Why did Target even have this card?”

Eddie snorts. “Either the universe is trying to tell us something or you have supremely bad luck, my friend.”

Steve looks at him and hesitantly says, “Maybe it’s both?”

Eddie looks taken aback. “Yeah?” he asks with a shy smile.

Steve runs a hand through his hair. “I dunno. I was… thinking about it after the last time, with the candle.”

“Thinking about…?” Eddie trails off, looking at Steve's lips, his eyes going dark.

Steve nods, biting his lip.

Eddie takes a step closer and says, “I don't know if you realized, but I lit that candle last night before you got here. It was burning while we were building the Lego set.”

Steve's breath comes a little bit quicker. “I didn't notice that, no.”

“Do you want me to light it again?” Eddie whispers and Steve doesn't even have to think about it before he nods.

They don't end up getting around to building the rest of the Lego set that day.

[chaotic-scraps]

All I Want For Christmas is You (Part 1)

Inspired by the song version Minor Key All I Want For Christmas is You - Kurt Hugo Schneider with original characters (no names, I'm allergic apparently).

CW: Kidnapping, gun violence

Red and green lights blinked through the window blinds. Christmas music echoed from the street below. Gloved and shaking hands pulled red yarn from tack to tack. Photographs, sticky notes, news articles, emails.

The detective stared. Head pounding. Swigged the cold and bitter coffee. Jittery. Cold.

A month. It'd been more than a month since the thief's last known activity.

It just didn't make sense.

"Where are you," he whispered.

It wasn't like they owed him anything. Not the little gifts they would leave after a heist, nor the postcards mocking him for being one step behind.

Not the flirtatious moments that just… Refused to leave his mind.

They'd given him a souvenir of the last heist, just before disappearing. A thick and heavy gear, uniquely shaped, wrapped in a box. He'd shoved it into his bottom drawer with the other odds and ends the thief brought them.

He scrubbed the sleep out of his eyes. It meant nothing, he tried to tell himself. No news was good news, right? The thief was lying low after kicking the hornet's nest.

It had only been a month. They'd turn up. They always do.

Yet the hours ate away at him. They'd… Promised to stop by on Christmas Eve. Rookie mistake. Never trust a con artist to follow through on their honeyed promises.

Yet…

The thief's last target had been none other than a mob boss. They'd been missing since shortly after the heist.

If… If the detective could find some sign, some single shred of evidence they were okay, that they were safe, he could sleep.

He tried not to think the worst.

He took a shaky breath.

He couldn't sleep. Couldn't focus. Couldn't function.

Time to call on an old family… 'friend'.

Hopefully she was in a good mood.

He pushed through the cold and crowded streets. He went down a much quieter alley to a door with a small and faded sign.

The door to the shop jangled.

"Hey! Look who the rat dragged in," the shopkeep rasped. She hacked a cough and limped over to him.

"C'mere, you!"

She pulled him into a back-cracking hug.

"Ohh! Merry Christmas, sugar plum! I haven't seen you since, what? Last year? You look thin. Have a cookie."

The detective shook his head. "I just need some information, then I'll be out of your hair."

The shopkeep pursed her lips.

"Oh. I see. I'd hate to keep you, mister important detective man. No time to visit your auntie anymore. Not even on Christmas."

"You shot at me last time."

"Warning shots. Ought to teach you not to stick your nose where it don't belong."

"…Yeah." The detective sighed heavy. "I… Speaking of that." He withdrew a photograph and slid it to her. "Recognize this face?"

The shopkeep squinted. "Oh, yeah, that thief character. Stole my favorite mug. Little beagle on the front. Said 'You're the Doggon Best' on it."

Oh. The thief gave him that mug. He used it every day.

He shifted his gaze awkwardly, opening the door to a grandfather clock pendulum.

"Have you seen anything of them recently?" He asked.

"I heard they're not going to be a problem anymore," the shopkeep sniffed. "Quit fiddling with that old clock. You'll break it."

An old and matted cat mewled and stretched, and she scratched his head. "Does Mr. Biscuits want his num nums?" She cooed.

"What does that mean," the detective hissed, stepping between the shopkeep and her cat. "What do you mean, they're not a problem anymore?"

"You get between me and Mr. Biscuits, and we'll have ourselves a problem," the shopkeep growled, pushing past them. "Your friend messed with the wrong people. Forget about them."

"You know something," the detective demanded. "That mob boss has them, right? Where are they?"

"Dead," she rasped. "Dead, as far as you're concerned."

The detective sucked in a breath.

He leaned against the glass display for support.

No. No, they couldn't be dead. If the item the thief stole was worth their life, they wouldn't do away with them until they found said item. They were currently worth more alive.

"I don't believe it. Tell me your sources"

"I don't owe you that. Believe what you want."

"Where…" The detective pulled out a notepad. "Where is the boss's last known location?"

The shopkeep's eyes went wide, nostrils flared.

"No. You're looking for a fool's end, and I want no part in it," she said, walking by and pulling him by the sleeve.

"Take this cookie and get out, you fool boy." The shopkeep pushed a gingerbread into his hands and shoved him out the door.

The streets were colder as the night grew darker. Crowds thinned and the festive lights went out. The detective found a bench to sink into.

Something began to build in his chest. A cold, sad laugh.

He was laughing.

Crying.

God, he needed to get ahold of himself.

"Hey, uh," a voice caught his attention.

The detective hastily scrubbed away his tears.

"Heard you're looking for a friend," the gaunt figure grunted. "I can help."

Their eyes flicked to the cookie, and they swallowed. "For a price."

The detective held out the cookie for them. They blinked wide-eyed, then snatched and scarfed it down. A moan of satisfaction.

"The mob boss is hosting the Christmas party in their cabin." They smacked their lips. "That's just outside of the abandoned diner, cut right after the old winery. You'll find an unmarked path with a fork, go left. Tell em you're making a delivery."

They shoved a package in his hands. Cookies.

"I can't trust myself with 'em." The stranger grinned crookedly. "God, I've been so tempted for a nibble all day. Fresh baked this morning. A special something in the butter. God, just smell that." He sniffed the box deeply. "Tell em Ol' Shakylegs sent you if they ask."

The detective reached the address long after dark. Vehicles parked back to back all the way down the driveway and across the lawn. Anyone parked farther in was stuck. What a nightmare. He parked his motorbike close to the side.

There was a side entrance where staff went in and out. He made his way over and an event planner all but snatched the parcel away.

"You're late," they barked.

"Apologies," the detective said.

"Well? Move it! Clear out!"

"Where's the restroom?"

The planner scoffed. "Second door on your right. There's a line."

The detective nodded. Then went left, towards the party. He slipped into the crowd, eyes darting around for familiar faces.

A hand grabbed his shoulder.

"You're not supposed to be here," a hefty man grunted. "Party guests only."

"I'm a detective, and I found something of interest for your boss," the detective said. He handed a photograph of the gear the thief had left them.

"This looks like junk." The man held the photograph. Squinted. "Stay right here."

The detective peered around the room. Suspicious eyes flicked back. He recognized some. Some recognized him. He waved and forced a smile.

The man returned. "Come with me," he said. He grabbed the detective by the shoulder in an iron grip and pushed him through the murmuring crowd.

He reached a private study and shoved the detective inside. A few more men blocked the door.

"I'm told you have something of mine, detective," the mob boss said, tapping the photograph of the gear. "A Christmas gift, perhaps? This isn't extortion. You're much too smart."

"I need the whereabouts of a certain thief," the detective said. "Tell me where they are, and I'll wrap that gear in a pretty little bow for you before Santa comes to town."

The boss tapped his desk. "I need the blueprints, too."

"Only they have that information." The detective wet his lips. "I can get them to talk. Let me see them."

"Afraid that's not how this is going down." The boss made a gesture and one of the grunts pulled the detective to his knees, gun barrel digging into his temple. "You bring me the gear and the blueprints or my boy's'll make like Picasso with your brains."

Silencer. Plastic wrap on the floors and furniture. Fridge-sized gift box. He wasn't joking.

"Replicating the gear will take years," the detective said, voice stronger than he felt. "You need it now. Let's be reasonable here. Only I know where it's hidden. Blueprints won't help if you don't have all the pieces."

The boss stepped around the desk like a panther stalking for the kill. He looked down at the prone man with a bloodthirsty glint in his eye.

"Do you have family, detective?" The boss asked. "You look like a family man. You have a wife? Husband?"

The detective sucked in a breath.

"No." He looked down. "No, I have no one."

"No." The boss patted his cheek. "No, of course not. You don't know what it takes to raise a family. A happy family. What the cost is."

He gripped the detective's hair and forced him to meet his eyes.

"You get between me and my livelihood, you threaten my family. Understand? You come to me the day before Christmas and you threaten my livelihood with my family just outside--"

"Tell me they're alive," the detective pleaded. "Tell me they're alive. Give me some proof they're alive. Or…"

He took a shaking breath. "Or I won't care what you do to me."

There was a shift. The boss released his grip.

"You care for them," the boss whispered in revelation.

The detective's throat bobbed.

"You came for them… Because you have feelings for them."

"They're all I have," the detective whispered.

"That's why you have the gear," the boss said, everything clicking into place. "They care for you, too."

A pang in the detective's heart. Did they?… They never really confirmed-…

"Bag him. Take him to the basement," the boss said. "I'll deal with him later."

The detective yanked himself out of the grunt's grip and dodged a swing to the back of his head. One hit the other. The boss shot at him, missed and hit the second grunt. The detective grabbed a bottle of brandy and broke it, and held the broken glass to the mob boss's neck. A bead of blood trickled from where he pressed too hard.

"I will destroy you," the mob boss hissed. "I will destroy everything you love."

"You have MORE TO LOSE," the detective roared. "You have a family? I have one person. ONE PERSON I CARE ABOUT! WHAT ELSE CAN YOU TAKE?! TRY ME!!!"

He grabbed at the boss's wrist and bit into it until he released the gun. The boss wailed.

"YOU'RE INSANE!" He screeched.

"Tell me where they are," the detective said. "Tell me where they are now."

"In the abandoned warehouse near the pier," the mob boss said. "But you will never--"

Grunts stormed in from outside. They trained their guns on him.

The detective aimed the gun towards the ceiling, and shot the light. He ducked and rolled in the ensuing chaos.

"He's escaping! Get him! GET HIM, YOU IDIOTS!"

The detective burst into the room filled with festivities and barreled through the back entrance.

"Grab him! SOMEONE GRAB HIM!"

The detective pushed a chocolate fountain over. The grunts skidded and fell behind him.

Shots fired. The staff hit the floor.

Glass shattered. A bullet grazed the detective's side. He ran out the back and mounted the motorbike.

Too many cars parked. The grunts scattered in panic, trying to work a car free.

Precious time lost for them. The detective chuckled. That was a lesson in crowd management.

It was well after midnight when he reached the pier. Someone must've phoned he was coming. Grunts all around the perimeter.

They didn't expect him to be so brazen.

He barreled through a crowd of grunts who dove away with a cry. He shot at the deadbolt, but it held firm. A waste of bullets, a waste of time.

Something hit the back of his head.

The detective came to with a bag over his head. Hands tied behind his back, feet tied to a chair.

"Detective? You awake?"

His heart fluttered.

The thief's voice.

"I… It's you," the detective was overcome with emotion. "I heard you were dead."

"You came looking for me anyway?" The thief huffed. "You… Why would you do that? For me?"

"No, I was just looking for my wallet," the detective said. "You stole it again, remember?"

Laughter. "Lot of trouble for a wallet," the thief said. "You know you can request new cards--"

The detective drew in a sharp breath.

"What? What is it?" The thief sounded worried. "Did they hurt you? What?"

"N-nothing," the detective said, voice rough. "I…"

Thought I'd never see you again, he couldn't say.

"Merry Christmas," he said instead.

The thief snorted. "Yeah. Merry Christmas."

A click.

"Touching reunion," the mob boss said. "You two seem close. Let's test that relationship."

[fionajames]

Christmas with the Clone Wars

A/N: HEYY GUYSSS! This is basically some headcanons about Christmas for the Clones in my fix-it au on and about Nay Mets!!!! So sorry for being so horrible and slow about updating :/ Enjoy, and send some requests please! And ofc, MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!!!! (from Australia!!!)

Ahsoka

Ahsoka is Christmas crazy.

Basically reverts back to how she was at fourteen years old.

Obsessed with everything, proper Christmas fanatic.

Spends hours and hours in Kmart or Target or whatever looking through stuff for Christmas presents. Buys most people soft toys and ends up stealing the one she buys Anakin a lot.

Badly singing Christmas songs.

Woke Anakin up on December 1st (I know that's not true really, because the dates are different, but imagine it that way anywhere) by blasting ‘All I Want for Christmas is You’ at 6am.

Literally a ball of absolutely chaotic excitement on Christmas days. 

Anakin

Threw the cup of water usually by his bedside table on Ahsoka when she woke him up with Mariah Carey.

Badly sings Christmas songs with Ahsoka, and gets all up in Obi-Wan’s face when he does.

Super excited for Christmas, but forgets to do anything for it and ends up at the local retail store at 8pm buying random shit.

Wraps everything at 11pm on Christmas Eve.

Cheap supermarket christmas cards with weird cartoons on them for EVERYONE. Inside is messily scribbled ‘To {INSERT NAME},’ the printed, ‘Merry Christmas and Season's Greetings!’ message and then, even messier ‘From Anakin.’

Very happy though, just joyful because there were holidays like this on Tatooine, but he never really got to appreciate them because of being enslaved.

Obi-Wan

Needs a coffee. So bad.

He is so organised though. Had everyone's gifts and wrapped like a week before Christmas, and all of them are actually good, thoughtful and all.

Did most of the decorating, and all the event organising.

He’s not upset though, he’s pleased.

Goes to church for Midnight Mass alone and thinks Qui-Gon would have loved it, and Christmas overall.

Tries to make everything as amazing as possible for the others, especially Ahsoka and Anakin.

Rex

Does a lot of the Christmas cooking and baking. Absolutely menace in the kitchen, creates masterpieces but is also hitting people with wooden spoons and spatulas to get out of his way.

Insists on helping Obi-Wan, does all the lighting, and does it so wonderfully it’s shocking.

Decently prepared, buys good gifts, and wraps them on the 23rd.

Writes every short and sweet cards.

Cries. You know he does. Too bloody happy.

Takes great joy in seeing how happy Ahsoka is.

Cody

Another normal gift giver, thankfully.

Loves the actually good-quality Christmas films.

Helps a lot with all the organising. Very calming for when Obi-Wan gets too stressed.

Makes huge batches of hot chocolate that taste so bloody good, and everyone loves it.

Enjoys Christmas, loves the way everyone comes together for it.

Keeps the fire stocked and amazing, just contently enjoying everything.

A/N: TYSM, I HOPE YOU ENJOYED, I LOVE YOU ALL!!! AND MERRY CHRISTMASSSSSSSSSSSS

(taglist: @techs-goggles9902, @skellymom)

[viric-dreams]

The Brass Embassy

After several months of correspondence back and forth with his "surface fiancée," Suzette, the pair finally receive word from their boss to meet together to discuss an upcoming mission .

Jones is running uncharacteristically late, and rushes in the door seconds after its start only to come face-to-face with the man he'd drunkenly hooked up with on Christmas Eve, in the midst of his post-breakup morality crisis. Despite how alcohol-hazed the memories are, that's clearly got to be him, because he's making the exact same face as he is right now from the moment the first word left Jones' mouth. This is Suzette?

If "Suzette" was a part of the Game, then maybe he was put in his path to spy on him, to keep a close eye on his movements when he'd started slipping at work those weeks in December. He knew he was on thin ice with the Game since this start. Moreover, he'd asked "Suzette" for information on an entirety personal matter, Elias Leroux and their connection to the Chessboard. It's technically a grey zone, but a misuse of Game resources could also be seen as a blunder. They could be preparing to take him off of the board again after all, as they'd once threatened.

"Suzette," as it turns out, is named Shaw.

Their boss is explaining their mission, but he's not listening to a word she's saying, still trying to figure out what the angle here is. When their boss leaves and they're alone, well, he's a professional, isn't he? They jump straight into work.

Jones does not do field missions. It is not his forte and the Game knows this. The reason, it turns out, he's been dragged in here is his connection to the diplomats of the Brass Embassy. He and Shaw are in charge of extracting sensitive documents from the Embassy.

It doesn't take long to discover that the two of them work spectacularly well together. They seem to seamlessly be able to operate on exactly the same wavelength. Putting personal mistrust aside (and again, he will, because he's a professional), he's able to work with Shaw so easily and comfortably.

He can't ignore the mistrust forever, however. It's two day later when they're on their surveillance mission that he finally breaks. Jones does not do well with silence. They make it an hour in before he's finally forced to ask. Did Shaw know? Did he know who he was when they'd slept together?

Shaw seems thrown by the question. He didn't, he insists. Or at least that's what Jones thinks he's saying, his usual diction is suddenly hard to parse. Jones finds that he believes it. Perhaps it really was some strange coincidence.

They find their target, The Brimstone-Scented Attaché, but they're too quick for the two of them to act and the Attaché disappears into the Embassy.

Rather than an ambush, the Mission has now become a heist. They're going to need to infiltrate the Brass Embassy. This is absolutely not what Jones signed up for. But Shaw seems to know what he's doing, and despite his initial personal misgivings, he trusts Shaw on a professional level.

Their entry goes well. Jones' social engineering gets them through the door with minimal trouble. All seems to be going according to plan, and they should be able to locate the documents and leave before they're spotted.

At least that was the plan. Fate, however, seemed to have other ideas, and the pair find themselves locked in a break room trying to plan an escape before the devil can alert security. The whole time, a jazz ballad blares from the gramophone in the corner, adding to the dissonance of the situation. The music is making it hard to think.

He doesn't like how still Shaw is, clearly thinking when they should be doing... something. He, however, does not intend to stick around long enough for that door to open again, because the prospect that waits on the other side is a one way trip back to prison, sans trial. He spent fourteen years in a cell and does not intend to spend a minute longer. He makes this clear to Shaw as he opens a third story window.

The shimmy across the building's ledge is precarious, but he's able to make it to an adjacent window of an empty room and unlock the door from the outside. They know where the briefcase is located. They need to get it and get out as quickly as possible. Except...

Jones needs to make a detour back into the room. He catches up with Shaw soon enough though.

They get the suitcase and run for it, run as fast as they possibly can out the door and down alleyways, hoping the treachery of London's streets will aid them in dodging their pursuers.

What feels like ages later, they come to a stop, breathless. They did it. They succeeded. Jones holds the briefcase in his hand, contemplating the innocuous weight of it, compared to the sheer weight of the information it contains. He's part way through saying something when a voice stops him in his tracks.

The Brimstone-Scented Attaché stands in the mouth of the alleyway, knife pressed up against Shaw's throat. Hand over the briefcase.

He's not sure what happens next. He has the gun in his hand. Shaw's saying something to him but he can't make out any of the words. He knows he has to take the shot. Or to run. To ensure the briefcase stays in his possession at any cost. But he can't. He's frozen to the cobblestones, cycling through hundreds of options, everything that could go wrong. Shaw's mouth is moving but he can't hear anything over the blood rushing in his ears. Then Shaw jerks and the devil recoils with a howl. It happens so fast he barely registers what's happening. There's Shaw, on top of them, driving a knife into their body again and again until the devil finally stops moving.

There's something within the papier-mâché skin, trying to crawl out, and Jones comes back to himself, grabbing the body and dragging it out of eyesight of any passersby whilst Shaw stomps on any of the bees that attempt to emerge. He moves on autopilot, dismembering the skinsuit, whilst crushing any bees that get within range. When he turns around again, he notices Shaw looking at him, a bloodied handkerchief pressed against his neck. The undercurrent of discomfort is palpable. When he ultimately speaks, his voice is quiet. What happened back there?

There's no hiding from this. He knew this might happen the moment they decided to send him into the field. He's not cut out for this, and his deficiency has consequences. Regardless of what those may be, he owes Shaw honesty. That's the only way to be able to successfully work together.

I'm sorry. I panicked. There was... so much happening. And it would've been so easy to miss. And then there were the implications of killing them, of not killing them, of killing you. I... I froze. I'm sorry for that. It's not professional, and there's no good excuse for it. There's a reason I'm not usually in the field. He hopes it's enough.

No, no. It's alright... It was quite overwhelming. Shaw doesn't appear judgmental, nor angry. If anything... worried. Either way, It’s been handled - and wouldn’t have been able to do all that if they hadn’t been focused on you. So, try not to dwell on it.

He tries. It's only then that he realises just how blood-soaked Shaw's handkerchief has gotten. No chemical, Neathy or surface-sourced could possibly save it at this point. He takes out his own, offering it to Shaw. It's only at this moment that Shaw appears to become aware of the extent of the injury. Perhaps he should get home. Jones can walk him there, he doesn't live so far, from what he recalls, though Jones only has a vague recollection of where (he tries not to think of why he has this knowledge).

He slips his arm around Shaw, and pulls him close, carefully tilting his hat to cast the bloodstained collar of his shirt into shadow. To the casual observer they would simply look like a couple enjoying an evening stroll. Shaw leans into the illusion, up until the point they arrive at his front door. It's clear from the shift in the air that he remembers the last time they were both here. Jones wishes him a good evening, set to turn around and dispose of the body more permanently. They can have their post mortem after they've both slept.

It's only when Shaw pulls away from his side that Jones feels the bump of the object against his torso and remembers.

Wait, hold on. Slowly, he slides the pilfered record out from the inner lining of his jacket and presents his ill-gotten gains to Shaw, using force of will to keep his face perfectly blank.

Shaw breaks into delirious laughter.

[esmedelacroix]

12 days til' Christmas

christmas day at the military base tending to könig's wounds ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

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

Most people in the world didn’t have to spend all of Christmas Eve and Christmas morning fighting on the front lines and interrogating captured enemies but once the job was all done most of your fellow troops were gathered in the cafeteria drinking their hearts away.

At KorTac there were no such things as Christmas vacation or going back to your family for the Holidays.

In a world ridden with war, pain, and suffering, conflicts didn’t stop themselves from happening for the Holidays. You arrived at base a few hours ago, you had taken two hours interrogating enemies and one hour showering.

No one ever got to shower for that long but what the hell? It was Christmas. No one was going to stop you from getting a decent shower. The water was hot today and you were content.

You told yourself that you wouldn’t go and drink tonight because you didn’t want your sleazy and very much married colleagues to try and grope and/or flirt with you as always.

For the sake of their spouses, girlfriends, and your sanity you never entertained their advances. That was why most of the men in KorTac didn’t like you. That was the intention anyway. You didn't need any of them to like you. You just needed your best friend to like you.

More than ten troops from each group died every day you were in battle. When you all went out for battle it felt more like a death sentence because you didn’t know if you were going to make it out.

After spending your whole life in this brutal system you made it a habit to not make any friends. You couldn’t beat the pain of losing another.

König was an operator alongside you and a few others. You met him when you were very young. An older general had saved you from what troops assumed to be a ghost town. You were found in a building almost crumbling apart. Hiding from anyone who might come in and hurt you while war was happening less than two miles away.

They found you when you were six years old. They planned to take you to an orphanage and put you up for adoption. But there was something strange about you they thought to be intriguing. At six-years-old you picked up your first gun and shot a target almost perfectly.

Ever since then, you have been used as a war weapon. You were eager to make yourself useful to the people who saved you because truthfully, you had no family to go to. You had watched them die from the crack of the little closet you were hiding in. When you turned fifteen, you met König. He was 17 at the time and he was an outstanding troop. Almost better than you.

Naturally, you and König became the bestest of friends. You were the only young ones in KorTac for a while so no one really talked to you other than the general that saved you years before. He was like a father to you.

Your friendship with König started with competition but with time the two of you became an unstoppable team. König was still out on his battlefield today, you couldn’t help but wonder if everything was okay, his team usually didn’t take this much time.

You tried your hardest to convince yourself not to go to get a drink but you found yourself walking down the hall to the dining room while braiding your wet hair to the side.

As you made your way to the dining room you heard a sudden commotion. Your nosey ass decided to go outside and see what it was.

Just then you saw König’s crew arrive in their rucks as they came out each and every one of them had a major injury. They were all being rushed to the med bay. Most of them couldn’t even walk.

Just then you saw König step out of his truck. He had a huge gash on his leg. They had attempted to stop the bleeding but the cloth on his leg was a violent red and soaked with blood.

Even with his critical condition, he was still running around to help his colleagues get to the med bay. You found yourself helping out as well naturally.

As the last of the troops were being treated there were no nurses available to help König and he had nowhere to rest either.

“Let me help you take care of these wounds,” you said to him. It was more of a command though and König knew that it was in his best interest to comply. He didn’t want to though. If there was one thing that König didn’t like about you, it was that you didn’t mind seeing him in a vulnerable position.

In silence, he followed you to your room where he already had his onset of clothing for when you tended to his wounds. He took a seat on your bed that he barely fit on as you took all your supplies out. You took your balaclava off and took a seat in front of him.

Masks and balaclavas when used to conceal identities. It wasn’t common for troops to show their faces to each other no matter how close they were. You and König didn’t mind the unspoken rule at all and were maskless around each other all the time.

When König took his mask off he thankfully only had one small cut. He was a very handsome man. He didn't exactly think so, but you thought he was one of the most handsome faces you had ever seen. "What did they do to this beautiful face of yours?" you asked as you began to dab the cut with rubbing alcohol.

König didn't respond flustered by the sudden compliment. You chuckled to yourself at his reaction. You placed your hand on his cheek feeling his prickly 5 o'clock shadow. Looking deep into his eyes you brought your face closer to his and kissed his scars.

"You know you don't have to do that every time. I mean, why kiss the ugliest part of me?" he asked.

"I'll kiss them until you call these scars beautiful and not ugly," you said as you helped him take his gear and his shirt off.

The two of you regularly tended to each other's wounds. So you had naturally seen each other half-naked before. He thankfully had no deep cuts on his torso. You gave him ice to use on a bruise that formed after his vest was shot.

König was a bit nervous about being indecent around you even after all these years. He sat there in just his boxers after you left the room to "use the bathroom" when you were really just giving him privacy to take his pants off.

You unwrapped the shirt that was barely helping with the huge gash on his leg. You brought him to the bathroom where you cleaned his wound with clean tap water. You used an antibiotic ointment. König occasionally groaned in pain.

The pain increased even more when you started ding his stitches. You occasionally blew on the injury and apologized continuously. You finally finished and covered the injury with a sterile bandage.

"There, all done," you said letting out a long sigh relieved that you hadn't made a mistake.

"Thank you for always taking care of me," König said.

"Of course, anything for you," you said, giving him a sweet smile.

"Let me get something really quickly," König said, getting up and rushing out of your room with a light limp.

You took this as the perfect moment to take out the Christmas gift that you made for König. The two of you often picked up random hobbies together. This month's hobby was knitting. You knitted him a light pink scarf. No one would see it under the shirt he draped over his head anyway.

König came back hiding something behind his back and you hid his gift behind your back as well. At the same time you both revealed your gifts to each other. You both exchanged gifts.

You opened your gift and in the box lay a pair of black knitted mittens, König opened his to see a pink knitted scarf.

The two of you laughed at how similar your gifts were. “Thank you König, really. I love these,” you said, hugging him.

“Oh course, meine taube[my dove], Merry Christmas,” he said, patting your head.

“What do you see we join those verlierern[losers] for a drink?” he asks as he puts his scarf on and puts his mask back on.

“Sure why not?” you said putting your mask on as well.

The two of you drank until you were completely wasted and König was feeling a bit tipsy. Which was impressive on his part because you lost count of how many runs on the rocks he drank. Meanwhile, you were spent after four gin and tonics.

König carried you to your room and played you down on the bed. Just as he was about to walk away you grabbed onto his pants. König’s drunken habit was to be quieter but yours was clinginess. “Please don’t go, Teddy, you’re so warm,” you whined pulling him closer to you.

He smiled at the nickname you gave him that stemmed from when he let you drink when you turned 21 and you ended up clinging to him calling him a teddy bear.

“Cmon not tonight, prinzessin[princess],” he cooed.

“Please don’t leave me, Teddy,” you begged, pulling him right next to you in your bed.

“Wie kann ich Nein zu dir sagen?[How can I say no to you?]” he asks himself as he cautiously gets in bed next to you.

You wrapped your arms around his big torso and snuggled into his chest. Your breath naturally keeps time with your heartbeat.

“I love you, Teddy,” you say as you hurl almost vomiting all the contents of your stomach again.

You give his cheek and neck a few kisses. König felt the heat rise on his face as your sudden affection.

“I love you more, goodnight, meine süße[my sweet one],” König murmured as he planted a kiss on your temple and took in your sweet scent.

He held you in his arms for the rest of the chilly Christmas night. He was sure to help you when your huge hangover hit you in the morning.

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

taglist:

@aripet22

[ask-missparker]

—

~ Merry Christmas Eve folks! 🎄

I’m in the middle of tracking a target in Kingston, to locate the Rising Tide member who’s going around slipping information this holiday season. They were hacking access cards and putting bombs into toys as a present.

Two words — Toys & Criminals

Maria Hill was gonna send @calmbeforezero on this one but i decided I’ll go instead. He deserves a break. I’ve been this mission since 48 hours ago…

Why can’t criminals take a break on Christmas huh?! It’s cold here and well, snowing/raining too, but it’s not so bad due to the holiday playing music. I was able to locate the idiot with Melissa and send the location to the correct address so our teammates can catch him.

So far everything is running smoothly.

Well…I slipped the fell on ice earlier after chasing one of the guys down, but I’ll live, aside from the burning feeling on my leg. I am going to need a nice HOT shower when I get back.

Speaking of get back home? I’ll be back soon more or less. Probably by midnight tonight, fingers crossed.

Oh Melissa and the others say hi! 👋🏼

——

———

Tags: @ask-starrk @missstrawbs2001 1 @purpleprincessonfyre @wizzzardofoz z @thechoooooosenone @rickb-chaos @luna-d-marsh h h @marvelsfavoriteuncle @elzabeth-stark @sci-fi-lexcon @jackiequick @blueboirick @gcthvile @aidanxsophxoxo @meiramel l @trulysummersprivate @sadiesadieagentlady

[thgfanfictionlibrary]

General Rated Fics Masterlist (27)

Parts 1-19 / Part 20 / Part 21 / Part 22 / Part 23 / Part 24 / Part 25 / Part 26 

Created: May 12th, 2024

Last Checked: —-

Guess Who's Coming to Dinner-JLaLa (ao3) Summary: "My son is going to marry Katniss Everdeen." If only it was that simple. The Mellarks and Everdeens have dinner. The past and present collide. From Mr. Mellark's POV. Little blank windows-keeptheearthbelow (ao3) Summary: Prompt: Peeta's locket. My awkward take on how Peeta got the picture of Gale before the Quarter Quell. Local flavor-keeptheearthbelow (ao3) Summary: It's a love song you sing with your mouth full (100% fluff.) Long Story Short-VanillaCottonCandy (ao3) Summary: “I love you, Katniss,” he softly proclaims with that glint in his eye that I know well. The one that tells me, wordlessly, that he adores me. That even on days when I feel like scum of the Earth, he openly reveres and cherishes me for just being who I am. / Collection of Everlark drabbles I’ve written based on prompts given. Mama-VanillaCottonCandy (ao3) Summary: “I’m not your baby,” I’d shouted at her years ago. I was so angry with her. I was so angry and so righteous and for what? For something she couldn’t control and couldn’t take back? For something she clearly needed help to manage? I thought I knew everything when I was twelve. I thought I was the strongest person on earth. / Katniss and her mother bond a few days after she comes home from the games. Set between The Hunger Games and Catching Fire. Of Spilled Popcorn and Gender Roles-icbiwf (ao3) Summary: Katniss has opinions about strong, capable women. Peeta has opinions about one strong, capable woman in particular. Peeta The Nutcracker Prince-JHsgf82 (ao3) Summary: (AU) Peeta tells a fantastical tale to his children at bedtime on Christmas Eve about how he and their Mama met and fell in love. Is it true? Or is it merely one of Peeta’s beguiling stories? Ribbons and Bows and a Cat-JHsgf82 (ao3) Summary: Canon-compliant-ish. Post-MJ. Growing Back Together period. Peeta attempts to wrap a gift for Katniss with Buttercup around. Shot Through the Heart-JHsgf82 (ao3) Summary: Finnick, the god of love, tasks goddess, Katniss, with taking over for him for the day, so he can spend time with his beloved. Little does Katniss know that her mortal target will have quite the effect on her. Simmers And Sparks-VanillaCottonCandy (ao3) Summary: “When he told me hours ago about his mental evaluation being only a few days from now—meaning he had to leave the morning after next—I was shocked and maybe slightly upset. When I found out it was Peeta himself who requested it take place next week, I was downright hurt. Hurt and confused.“ / Requested Oneshot for Katniss and Peeta to fight and then make up on the couch before bed. Set Post-Canon.

[all-eyes-lead-to-the-truth]

All Eyes Lead to the Truth | How the Ghosts Stole Christmas (6x06)

‘Twas the night before Christmas on Larkspur Lane;

Ev’ry corner held loneliness, sadness and pain.

The house reeked of sorrow beyond all compare.

Indeed, ‘twas a time of dark, dark despair.

For many a moon we stayed dormant and still,

Awaiting some guests to our house on the hill,

For this singular night, yes– the one night all year

We’d be given a chance to spread holiday cheer.

But as the clock ticked further into the eve,

We worried that there might be none to receive;

Maurice in his topcoat and I, pale and gaunt, 

Lamented a Christmas with no one to haunt. 

When, what to our wondering eyes should appear 

But two such lonely souls (also suckers, my dear)!

They searched through the mansion, as their flashlights beamed

For ghosts —but in truth, for each other, it seemed. 

Our grayed, ghoulish faces grew flush with delight

As they crept through the hall —how delicious a sight!  

Foolishly thinking themselves to be brave,

They were perfect, exactly the targets we craved!

The one with red hair, spouting theories a-flurry

Was doing her best to get out in a hurry,

While her partner (so handsome!) wanted not a thing more

Than to keep her nearby for just one more dark floor.

In eighty long years, I’d never quite seen

Two hearts locked at impasse like these two had been;

Denying their feelings, year after year

Out of loneliness, pride, and a good dose of fear.

At eleven o'clock, the grandfather did chime,

Giving we two just an hour of time

To trap these poor souls in their own lovers’ pact —

Like Maurice and me, there’d be no going back.

Maurice took the tall man; I, Lyda, the dame,

As we worked to uncover their secrets and shame.

You see, ghosts can’t do much but mess with the mind,

And these two were a challenge with so little time.

Maurice began prodding him– Mulder, his name —

To help find the answers he couldn’t explain;

Run down his issues, a glum inventory

(All of them paramasturbatory)

I, Lyda, found Scully, the lass of the two,

A bundle of pent-up neuroses, ‘twas true;

Her unconscious yearning, though present, was faint

For her partner, displaying impressive restraint.

I had to give credit, for weakness she lacked;

Resisting that man was a heroic act!

But… in love with a gent who would only see ghosts?

A lovers’ pact? Please. These two had no hope.

We considered retreating back up to our beds

While the agents ran into brick walls in their heads.

But something about them had told us instead

These two star-crossed lovers were better off dead.

(You might fairly ask why a couple of ghosts

Would decide to become such abom’nable hosts,

But ‘ere you judge us for what happened that night,

Remember: they trespassed, thus earning our spite.)

A wee little push, then, was all they would need,

And eventually they’d watch the other one bleed.

We’d need all our tricks, it was well understood,

To get Dana and Fox ‘neath our floorboards for good.

Getting him to believe was a simple first leap,

Then surely she’d follow, like a redheaded sheep;

‘Twas easy as shooting two fish in a barrel

Or singing a well-trodden old Yuletide carol.

With glee we did watch as they squirmed on the floor,

Covered in blood, all trust broken, for sure.

Our events set in motion that one day they’d see

How amazing a true partnership could be!

But then, in a twinkling, we heard Mulder speak

In a voice that grew strong after starting out weak:

“You’re not shot,” he told Scully, to greatest avail,

And they both got up, leaving our fine plan to fail!

Grabbing her hand, they took off like the lark,

Sprinting away, lost to us in the dark.

Maurice was upset, and I, Lyda, distraught;

Our scheme to turn foursome had all been for naught.

But the spirit of Christmas, alas, was not lost

As my love took my own hand, whatever the cost;

‘Twas a night to remember, although it was done…

What more’s there to say? Even ghosts should have fun!

Read the Rest of All Eyes Lead to the Truth on Archive of Our Own!

@admiralty-xfd