#this cookie is ugly but all of the pretty ones are gone :(

[spacestationstorybook]

everything reminds me of her

[bi-writes]

bestfriend!rooommate!simon finds out you've been lying.

more bff!roommate!simon (part 8/?)

cw: mature language and content, suggestive language and content, mean!simon (verbally), size kink (simon can move the reader easily, described as much bigger), praise kink, the mask doesn't come off, oral (m!receiving), fem!receiving touching, cumplay, soft!dom!simon, reader uses simon to get herself off (because there is no universe in which simon doesn't return his girl's favor), pet names (including pet and kitty)

you lied.

if simon had his gloves off, his knuckles would be stark white from how hard he was gripping the mail in his hands.

neither of you had checked your mailbox in a while--simon had only returned a few days ago from the harsh winter of northern russia after weeks away, and you seemingly had been busy with work. so busy, simon noticed very quickly, that you spent morning to late at night in your red and white uniform, coming home in the dead of night just to crash and do it all again the next morning.

now he held all the letters in his hand. stacks of them, with angry red stamps bleeding into the white of the envelopes.

NOTICE

WARNING

PAST DUE

LAST NOTICE

he stopped breathing for a moment. he spread the letters out on the table, flipping through each of them. he didn't open them, of course but these were all your bills. cell phone, last month's half of the rent, credit cards, your name written on the back and ugly red warnings pasted over it.

simon had spoken to you while he was gone. he had called you once, twice at least, and all he remembered was your soft voice telling him you missed him, to be careful, that you screwed up a new cookie recipe that you promised you would perfect before he got home.

you hadn't said a thing. your voice had been even and gentle as always. your voice had been comforting, saying only encouraging words. if simon was honest, your voice put him at ease; you always told him something to calm him, something to uplift him.

"i'm so proud of you, simon."

"i hate that you're gone, but there's no one else that could do what you do."

"um...hah...love you. be careful."

you hadn't said a word. your voice didn't reveal an ounce of the stress and the weight that must've been hanging over your head. there was no falter in your words, no strain as you spoke. just pretty, perfect, beautiful you, easing simon's demons while you battled some of your own.

simon crumpled one of the envelopes in his hands. it was thick with papers, but he still forced it into a ball, tossing it back onto the table angrily. he gripped the edge of the table, white knuckling it until he heard the key in the lock.

it was quiet as you came inside. you shut the door and locked it behind you, setting down your bag and taking off your jacket. it was morning; you had worked the night shift. your eyes were drawn low, tired and a dull. you said nothing as you toed off your shoes, letting your sneakers settle under the table. it was then that you noticed simon just sitting there, still, with his hands folded in front of him.

and all of your bills scattered around him.

you sucked in a shaky breath, looking up into his eyes. they were trained low, on the letters surrounding him, but he glared, boring a whole through them. he didn't know where to focus his anger; you were precious, you could do no wrong, you were soft and warm and his, and it wasn't your fault that everything was so expensive, that you were struggling.

but it was your fault that you hadn't said a thing--that you hadn't asked for help.

"simon, i...i-i can explain."

"no. y'r not gonna talk, luv." you had never heard his voice this way. so low and gravelly, an eerie lilt to it that reeked of disappointment and somehow betrayal. "y'r gonna sit down. now."

simon roughly pulled the chair from beside him out, an unspoken command for you to take a seat. your bottom lip trembled as you slumped into the chair, watery eyes avoiding his.

"how long?"

"simon--"

you jumped as he slammed a hand down on the table. the entirety of it shook, the papers ruffling and the dishes clattering loudly.

"a few months! a-a few months, just--"

"no!" simon snapped. "y'lied to me. y'lied to me! i asked! how many times have i asked?! how many times have i looked you in the fuckin' eye and asked you if everythin' was in order, how many fuckin' times?!"

you couldn't keep it in. the tears were hot, running down your cheeks and putting salt on your lips and a dryness in your throat. you were embarrassed. embarrassed that you needed help, ashamed that you were being scolded like a child, afraid of his loud voice and his terrible anger and the way he looked at you. when you decided to live together, you weren't meant to be his burden. you didn't intend to be his problem.

"i-i'm sorry, simon--i'm sorry..." you met his eyes. "i'm taking extra shifts. i-i'm gonna pay the bills, i-i'm gonna make it right, i-i swear--"

"is that what you think this is?"

he narrowed his eyes at you, two dark slits, and then as if a switch flipped, it was gone. his face softened, his eyes widening, and the tension seemed to dissipate just enough to let you breathe a little easier. you couldn't decipher this change, and you couldn't read what was in his eyes, not this time. all you could was sit there and try not to let your cries make any sound.

"do y'think i'm angry because y'didn't pay? is that what y'think?"

you shook your head, shrugging, not understanding his question.

"what...what other reason is there, s-simon?" you hiccuped. "i screwed..." more tears, they wouldn't stop falling, "i-i screwed up, simon, i-i'm so sorry, i-i--"

you jumped when his chair screeched against the floor. he stood up fast, taking a step to round the table to crouch beside your chair. he looked up at you, making himself smaller, and you looked down.

"simon, i'm sorry--"

"stop! stop fuckin' apologizing, fuck," simon interrupted you. his voice was gentle, trying not to scare you, and you closed your mouth, taking in deep, shaking breaths to try and center yourself. "'m angry because you didn't talk to me, luv--" your face fell when he reached up, two gloved hands cupping your puffy cheeks, "--why didn't you say anything? why didn't you tell me? why didn't you ask me for help?"

you sniffled, reaching up and caressing his wrists gently. you played with the edges of his gloves, your fingers skimming the hem of his sleeves and just barely teasing the bare skin under it.

"simon...how could i?" you asked, as if it was obvious. "after everything that's happened...after everything we've been through...h-how could i ask that of you?" "how could you not?" simon spit back, and when you tried to pull away, he tightened his grip on your cheeks. "no, no--look at me--" he rose up on his knees, pressing your forehead to his, "look at me."

your expression was pained, struggling to do as he asked, but eventually your eyes fluttered, meeting his own, and he grunted as he gripped the back of your neck and held you there.

nowhere to go. nowhere to run. no one else.

"y'r not my problem. not my burden," he muttered. "y'r m'responsibility. mine to take care of."

"i-i don't want you to have to do that--"

"what the fuck do y'think this is?" he breathed. "what we have, what this is, this is forever, has that not gotten through y'r bloody head?" you whimpered when he shook you a little, his hand in your hair as he pulled it tight. "y'r as good as mine. not up for discussion."

you swallowed hard as his hands came down, wiping the tears off your face. he brushed your hair back and away, so he could see you, and you smiled at him sadly, eyes glossy and bright.

"'m gonna take care of the flat from now on, yeah?" simon murmured. "'m gonna take care of everything."

your body visibly relaxed. your shoulders fell, your body sinking a little more into the chair, and there was something sweet in your eyes--something hopeful. simon's tone was definite, and there was no room for arguing. you nodded finally, leaning in slowly, pressing a delicate kiss to where his lips would be under the mask. his thumb swiped over your cheek, falling to trace the line of your jaw, and then you both closed your eyes at the same time.

there was an understanding here. it was as if simon was washing you clean--something refreshing and warm and gentle running down the length of you, rinsing whatever was hurting you right down some sort of sickening void that had gripped you so tightly. and he did it so easily--he did it without even blinking.

and it was easy. simon never hesitated with you. his money rotted in an account anyways--it sat and stared at him, reminding him of the kind of hell he had gone through just to get it. it reminded him of the half of him that was someone, the half of him that he hated, the half of his being that came from a wretched, horrid, terrifying thing that manifested itself somewhere in his blood.

simon was half of something foul, and maybe he couldn't make up for the part of him that he didn't think was human, but he could make up for this, make up for you, make up for whatever half of you had left you here. because that was what you deserved--you deserved to be taken care of, you deserved not to worry, you deserved to sleep in soft sheets and eat until your belly was full and smile so much that your cheeks ached, and if simon had to become someone else just to give it to you, if simon had to die and come back again, then that was exactly what he would do.

simon had died once already. simon had seen it--seen how empty and unfulfilling and quiet it had been. simon had seen another side, and you didn't belong there. you belonged somewhere warm. somewhere a little noisy, a little bright, familiar.

it hadn't always been this way. when simon first met you, it hadn't been a good day--simon wore bruises, and you wore blood, and it was in that instant moment of understanding that made it clear you would be bound forever.

something invisible threaded you together. and simon had pulled himself out of his early grave, and after he had done it, you were the only thing that remained. and he hated himself--he hated himself for thanking some unspoken thing, because his entire family was gone, but you weren't gone, you were still here, there was still sunlight in your eyes and laughter in your voice and you were still warm.

it should've tasted sour to be grateful for it. he wanted to hate himself for this feeling. he deserved to die again and not return, but then he wouldn't get to see you anymore, and the selfish part of him, the other half of him, would never give you up willingly.

this love was visceral. this love was going to kill him. he was going to die with you on his mind, but maybe that would be the only thing worth really dying for.

because there you are. big, pretty eyes gazing up at him--fuck, why does she look at me like that?

why does she look at me like i mean something?

why isn't she afraid?

why can't i push her away?

what the fuck is wrong with me?

his beautiful girl. his pretty little roommate. the woman with flowers for eyes and silk as skin and a mind filled with starlight. the sweetheart pushing him to sit, forcing him backwards, getting on her knees in between his legs. and then her hands were on his thighs, sliding up against the rough denim as she laid one side of her face against it, those petals in her eyes trained on the way that his pants seemed to get tighter with every drag of her delicate fingers up his thighs.

and then she was pushing up his hoodie, exposing the relaxed muscle of his stomach, and then she was kissing it. soft lips warming the solid middle of him, a knowing smile growing on her face as she felt him twitch and jump and grunt. and then those beautiful eyes were looking back up at him, her neck tilted back as she undid his jeans and nestled the hem of them just low enough for her to reach in and fuck--

you knew simon was beautiful everywhere. you knew that there was no part of him that wasn't perfect. you couldn't remember being particularly religious, but kneeling in front of him felt like devotion--and you had much to confess.

he was thick, heavy, a weight in your hand that had you drooling without so much as seeing him. you were looking at the red tip of him with eyes half-lidded, and it took everything in you not to take him all at once. but this was simon, this was your version of perfect, and you needed to show simon how much you felt because words were not enough.

words would never be enough.

you started slow. you dipped your head, your eyes flicking up to watch him as you caressed the base of him with a wet kiss. you squeezed your legs together when you noticed his dark eyes roll back into his head for a second, a pained, pleasured reaction, and then you did it again.

a soft lick, the edge of your tongue sliding over a protruding vein on the underside of his length, and you closed your own eyes for a moment to revel in the deep groan that simon uttered. you sighed deeply, keeping your thighs squeezed together to relieve the sudden ache between them, before flattening your tongue and guiding it up his length. simon cursed under his breath, his hands gripping his thighs tight--but one of his hands flew to the back of your head when your greedy little mouth sucked the tip of him into your mouth.

you moaned softly, tasting the edge of him, something so simon and pleasant. a little precum, warm, flowing onto your tongue. you whimpered when you felt his fingers tangle into your hair, gripping you for stability as you sucked him in.

"christ, luv--" just the sound of him so pleased was enough to have you dripping, "fuck--'s so good, 's perfect--"

she was so beautiful. she was perfect. of course she would be good at sucking him off, of course she would have the prettiest tongue and the warmest mouth, and of course she would have one hand wrapping around the base of him as the other slipped between her legs--

"fuck--y'r gettin' off on this, yeah?" he grunted, his eyes flashing with something dark. "'f course you are, such a good girl--"

good girl, good girl, i'm a good girl--

just as slow as it began, as quick as you became. one moment you were cool, composed, watching simon's eyes and listening to his voice as you tried to memorize what pleasure sounded like when it came from him, and the next moment you were sliding him further into your mouth, drool dripping down your jaw as precum spread across your teeth. he was so big--so much to take, but the strain in your jaw tomorrow would have to be a welcome side effect to making lieutenant simon riley cum down your throat.

so sloppy, what a mess you were making. simon's hand now cupped the side of your head, your hair in some makeshift updo as he guided you along his length. the sounds were filthy--soft, slobbering noises as you took simon just a little further down your throat, your tongue being careful to tease the slit of him, slipping between the fold of it to illicit the most gorgeous of moans out of him.

"fuckin' hell--the mouth of a fuckin' angel--"

"such a pretty girl...such a pretty sight...makin' such a mess, sweetheart..."

"y'like it, yeah? y'like it...y'r so pretty...s'pretty, luv, nnngh--th's it, just like that--"

and now you were bouncing pathetically onto your hand. you pressed your hand into the floor, trapping your thighs over it as you tried desperately to grind down on something as you sucked warmly on simon's length. just as you let out a frustrated whine, simon's boot knocked your hand out of the way, slipping the steel toe of it right there, right--oh!

you cried out as the tip of his boot pushed right up against your cunt. the perfect spot, right against your aching clit, because simon never missed--simon always hit his target, whether it was between the eyes of some muppet who had his gun aimed at johnny or exactly where to touch his girl to make her drool. and drool she did--with her mouth stuffed full of him, with her slick wetting her thighs, with that look in her eyes that could make any man lose his fucking mind.

and simon was losing it, he was crazy. he soothed the back of your neck, grunting and hissing and wetting the fabric of his mask with the way he spat and cursed for you. but how could he help himself? the most beautiful girl in the world was on her knees, looking at him like she was at the alter. confessing her sins, receiving her absolution, taking every bit of it like the good girl she was, is.

he was so pretty. he tasted so good. you could only see his eyes, but it was more than enough, you didn't need anything more. the way he scrunched them open and shut, the low drawl of his voice as he said your name--he was perfect. his cock filled your mouth so nicely; he was using you, but you didn't feel used.

you wanted this. you wanted him. you wanted him to put you between his legs, wanted him to finally feel something other than that sick, twisted ache in his bones.

you lifted your hand, the one that had been buried between your thighs, and you cupped the underside of him with them. the wet, sticky warmth of your fingers had simon choking on a breath, hissing when you began to work the length of him that you couldn't fit in your mouth.

"jesus fuckin' christ--!"

his chest was heaving, rising up and down as he scratched at your scalp and cupped the underside of your jaw. then he bent low, smoothing a gloved hand down your throat, needing to feel the way it constricted, the way you swallowed, the feel of your skin and the vibrations as you whimpered and moaned around the thick of him.

you were suckling so sweetly, letting pools of drool and precum slip past your lips and drip along your chin, your hands, against his boot. simon was getting close--you could tell by the way he tugged on your hair and the faltering of his breaths. and he was talking--talking so much, blubbering.

"aye, sweetheart--th's it..."

"fuckin' hell...nnnghh...feel like bloody heaven..."

"...see you in m'dreams, luv...aghh! fuck--fuck, fuck, fuck--"

you didn't think there was anything more attractive than watching simon lose control. but you weren't doing much better. as you sucked the salt from his cock, you slid your hips over his boot to relieve the ache between your thighs even just a little. you thought maybe it was a pathetic sight, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. you fit your cunt right up against him, nestling the tip of his toes against your clit so you could rock back and forth, soaking the leather with you.

simon grunted, chuckling a bit to himself as you watched you suck a little harder, a little sloppier, move your hips a little messier. you were like a sweet, doe-eyed puppy--all big eyes and soft mewls and nothing inside your head except suck, suck, suck--

you whined when he came into your mouth. you held out your tongue, massaging the middle of his cock as he dripped along your mouth, your lips, under your tongue, against your chin. and like the messy little girl you were, you kept suckling on the tip until simon gripped you by the back of the head and lifted you up off the ground, grunting as he roughly manhandled you into his lap.

"little kitty can't help herself...what a fuckin' mouth on ya..."

and then his fingers were gathering the cum on your face and slipping it back into your mouth--just as the fingers on his other hand plunged inside of you.

he was deep, thick gloved fingers taking up even more space, stretching your pulsing, gummy cunt as you gripped his shoulders and cried. little tears coming down your face as you chased that blissful high, begging simon to give it, give it, you need it.

it didn't take much. just a few rough touches of your puffy clit, and you were soaking his gloves, whining as you pressed your cheek to his and mumbled how good he felt, how everything hurt so nice.

a pounding, aching thing that was gone in a matter of seconds, throwing you in a pleasure-drunk mood, with your head rest against his shoulder and your breaths coming out heavy and languid.

your eyes fluttered, but your vision was just clear enough that you could see simon lift the front of his mask. you caught the line of deep scar, something a healed and vicious against his pretty face. then it was gone, replaced by the sight of him slipping his gloved fingers into his mouth and sucking on them, pink tongue coming out to taste them as he slurped at the gooey mess you made on them.

you saw the slightest hint of a smirk before the fabric came back down again.

"'s alright, pet--" simon's voice was low, a drawl to it that made his accent a bit more pronounced. and just as your eyes fluttered shut completely--

"'m right here, kitty."

[mosaickiwi]

Little "Love" Notes

Angel should really tell someone if they think somebody’s breaking in but instead they do… this? For some reason.

very good idea

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

💜🖤💜🖤💜🖤

Quiet and quick as could be, [REDACTED] slowly opened your window by the fire escape. He climbed in carefully, a little astonished that you still weren’t bothering to lock it after all these months. Their boots hardly made a sound as he took practiced steps over the hardwood floor of your apartment and headed straight to the kitchen. He didn’t need to see to know which floorboards would creak or groan underfoot.

Just as they expected, the usual sight that had him even more excited to go on his now almost nightly break-ins was there to greet him. A handful of hastily scrawled, bright pink sticky notes were slapped across various surfaces.

At some point or another you'd gotten sick of things going missing. Sure, most of them turned up after a while—and always right where you thought you'd left them—but even still it annoyed you. So you started leaving silly messages for your supposed burglar. He chose to read them as love notes.

“Don't take anything in here you BITCH I'll be so mad!!” screamed one from its place on a kitchen cabinet. Your writing there was a little illegible from how fast you surely wrote it, but he found it endearing.

Another, on the side of some faded plastic-ware read, “I made these cookies for a friend but a lot of them came out wrong. You may have the burnt ones.”

“Give that ugly red shirt back it doesn't belong to me.” That was the last one he could find in the room for now, left on top of the counter next to the notepad and pen you always used.

As much as he wished to, the hacker usually didn’t respond for fear of confirming your needless worries. They'd never want to harm you like a real burglar. But he always followed the instructions when he could. And he could do some of those tonight.

Since you'd so nicely asked, he left the bottom cabinet alone. They already knew what you kept in there anyway. He wouldn’t tell a soul.

He took a few burnt cookies out of the container left on the counter—not enough that you'd notice. Some to eat once he left, and one to keep. It was another thing you offered up to him, after all. 

But the sorry excuse of a shirt that your (worst) childhood friend had left behind was long gone. [REDACTED] had already given it a much needed vacation to the bottom of Lake Bluemoss, along with some other items that Leon had dared to leave among your belongings.

With the notes in the kitchen mostly taken care of, he set off towards your laundry closet. Only to find the small sliding door in the hallway closed shut with a note of its own smack dab in the middle. 

“Please don't take my comfy clothes anymore :c I know you always give them back but it'll be getting cold soon!! You don’t want me freezing in the middle of the night, do you? Won't you forgive me? Pretty please? ♥ ♥”

Mind going a mile a minute, [REDACTED] had to read your beautiful handwriting again and again as if decoding a different language. Those tiny, black inked hearts at the end of the note were all he could understand in the moment. Your sweetly written, pleading love letter finally sunk in once he managed to shake away the haze you’d unknowingly swept him into.

This one was a risk that he was willing to take. Of course they wanted you to be comfortable. He gently peeled the note off so it wouldn’t tear, and folded it away to tuck into his jeans.

Then, the dark haired man began to tug his favorite hoodie up and over his shoulders.

💜🖤💜🖤💜🖤

You lazily pulled the folding door open in search of a blanket. It was just a little bit colder for some reason when you woke up this morning, so you needed something to keep you cozy while you waited for Violet to come over later that afternoon. You reached up to the middle shelf where you normally kept extra blankets, but something just below it caught your eye.

A huge, black hoodie sat folded on top of the pile of clean towels you forgot to take care of days ago.

You didn't recognize it, but it had to belong to one of your friends, right? They all formed a habit of leaving stuff with you once you moved back to town. Jae still hadn’t picked up the roller skates he got for Maple—they were only used the one time.

Ignoring the blanket you meant to grab, you picked up the hoodie and slipped it on. The giant thing practically swallowed you, sleeves enveloping your hands and the hem falling well past your hips. The garish horror design that decorated its front didn't seem to be anything your friends were into, either.

But it was warmer than you thought possible. Plus, it smelled nice, like cherries and a little familiar comfort of something you couldn't place. Whoever it belonged to surely wouldn't mind if you kept it for a while.

You didn't bother to spare it another thought and hurried off to check the kitchen. Hopefully the cookies you'd painstakingly baked yesterday were still there.

[sincere1ystar]

Endgame

billy the kid x fem! reader

You and Billy have been friends since childhood, having gone through everything together. One day he sees you with another man and he finally realizes his feelings for you.

For as long as Billy could remember you were his oldest friend. You were there with him thorough it all. You were there when he lost his ma and little brother to that awful disease, when he moved from town to town, and even when he lost track of his morals and who he was you were still there.

Being friends since childhood meant that the two of you saw all sides of each other, the pretty and the ugly. Still despite everything, Billy was grateful to have the privelage to call you a friend.

Friends who truely knew each other inside and out. Friends who took care of each other in times where internal wounds bled into external ones. Friends who were bonded together for life after the horrors they experienced together. The term friend had a nice ring to it. Atleast that’s what he thought before he saw some guy flirting at the market.

It had been routine at this point. At the start of each day, you would go off to sell goods at the town marketplace while Billy would go off to do work of his own.

It shouldnt have bothered him as much as it did, you were single after all. Sometime he forgot that although he considered himself yours, you werent exactly his… yet.

Instead of storming in and demanding that the guy get away from you, he holds himself back. Billy definitely underestimated how badly that would hurt, and the worst part was that he couldn’t even do anything about it since you weren’t even his to begin with.

That day you and Billy walk back home from the market like you always do during the evenings, except this time you’re far too giggly.

“What’s gotten you all smiley?” He asks even though he has a good idea of what the reason is.

“You know that new guy in town? John? He’s mighty kind ain’t he”, you respond with that same giddy tone you always had.

“John huh?… Y’know he seems okay at best, I jus’ don’t think he’s all that”. He tries his best to conceal his jealousy but unfortunately it’s as obvious as a fish in the water.

That night sleep doesn’t come easy to Billy as thoughts of you and this newcomer John plague his mind. He decides to get a cup of water to clear his mind, a remedy that his ma would always give him whenever he had nightmares as a kid. Back then there was a pinch of childhood innocence thrown into the mix so his Ma’s “remedy” used to work , and the next day he was worry free and ready to frolic in the fields with you and the other children in the neighborhood.

He remembers those days even now as he’s staring at the ceiling as sleep runs further and further away from him. His ma would always tease the two of you as kids. He reminisces one day in particular when he was just a boy and his Ma made cookies. You’ve always had a sweet tooth so he decided to save one for you.

“Awww how cute is that supposed to be a lil’ gift for her? Well would ya look at that you have a crush don’t ya?”, his Ma would tease.

“Eww Ma!! No I do not!!!!”, Billy would respond the same everytime.

Billy’s mind then wanders to another past memory where him and his Pa were stargazing one night. Neither of them could sleep and the stars always held a sort of comfort.

He remembers asking his father how he chose to settle down with his mother. His Pa chuckled at the question and answered it along the lines of: “Well, you see Billy what your Ma and I had was true love”.

“True love?”, Billy was far too young at the time to understand the concept but was still curious as ever.

“Yup son. True love. True love is when someone who’ll stick with you no matter what…”

Just like how you stuck by him when he was hopeless after losing everyone, barely having the motivation to get up in the morning yet you still stayed.

“…True love is when someone sees the light in you even when you’re blinded by the darkness…”

Just like how you still saw the good in him even when he was struggling to find honest work.

“…True love is tough to find son. Once ya find it ya can’t doubt it ‘kay? Jus’ go for it”.

Just like how you were truely one in a million. Since childhood he could truely say that he has never met anyone that could even compare to you.

After revisiting the past, sleep comes and embraces Billy with open arms. He wakes up the next morning not only refreshed from a good night’s sleep, but also determined. The first beam of sunlight that hits his face is as he makes his way to your place. You two have always made it a tradition of sorts to have breakfast together, it reminds you two of the past back when you still had a grip on the innocence of childhood.

Usually Billy would have to knock on your door over and over again until the noise became to annoying to bear. It was the only way to get you to of bed since you were not a morning person.

Today was different though, you weren’t inside like usually you were. Instead you were sitting on the porch looking defeated with your eyes wet from tears.

“Hey…”, Billy approached you slowly, “What’s the matter? Somethin’ happen?”

“It’s John”, you respond with your lip trembling, “He didn’t wanna actually be with me.. It was just a bet between him an’ his buddies. I feel like an idiot..No I am an idiot”.

Billy stops you right there, not being fond of you talking down on yourself. “Woah woah don’t say that okay? You ain’t an idiot, if anythin’ he’s the idiot”.

You two sit in a silence for a bear after that before Billy starts again, “You know a real man wouldn’t treat ya like that… You should be with a real man?”

“Like who? I know everyone in this town, and everyone’s found someone so I must be some sort of lost cause!!” The hurt in your tone has now morphed into an anger of sorts. You’re too upset over what happened with John to realize that the man that you’ve been looking for is right in front of you.

“Like me”. His response is clear leaving no confusion over the fact that he’s just confessed the love he’s had for you since childhood.

As much as you try to hide it, his words take you aback. Sure you’ve considered the possibility of Billy as your lover but for him to say it so clearly. Thats a man who knows what he wants. If you were still a girl you would have been all giddy and probably would have ran off and told the fireflies about it.

Oh how you used to dream for moments like these. After seeing all your friends conquer their own romantic relationships while you remained along yourself, you had deemed yourself as unlovable. It seemed to be the only label that fit you, for no man’s last name did.

But now.. now love didn’t sound so foreign after all. It didn’t feel new either, maybe because it wasn’t. Throughout your shared youth and all the losses the two of you experienced, love was what got the two of you through it. Billy truely believed he could get through anything as long as if you were by his side. If you were ever taken from him then the world would truely know what it meant to see the Billy the Kid lose it.

But for right now you were here alive and well in front of him, willing to love him and allow him to be yours. He doesn’t waste a moment and when Billy’s lips met yours, you quickly learned that the syrup on your pancakes wasn’t the only sweet thing you would be tasting that morning.

[werecreature-addicted]

I WANT A HALLMARK HALLOWEEN MOVIE. Put in the same energy as they do in their Christmas ones.

Like I know they did do Halloween movies a couple years ago but it’s not what the people want.

Those are like almond mom Christian movies that take the fun out of the spooky month.

I want coco to be replaced by pumpkin spice. Snow replaced by fallen leaves.

Girl moving into a small town and somehow finds herself at the widowed lumberjacks barn who turns out to be Frankensteins monster or moth-man.

I don’t want a Christmas prince! I want a Halloween prince. Where we get married on Halloween and by some lazy writing our baby is born on Halloween!

Decorating the Christmas tree with the town bad boy? I want to carve pumpkins with the loner werewolf.

I want that corny romance stuff. With a sprinkle of Halloween spirit of spooky miracle. Idfk.

I doesn’t even have to be hallmark that does it. There are tons of other small studios that make those kinds of movies. I just Halloween girlies to feel special.

busy businesswoman from New York City is back home for her small hometown's annual Halloween Festival/ Parade/ Celebration. She thinks Halloween is corny and for kids but also her birthday is October 31st- a fact she tries to keep secret from the rest of the town although her family eventually lets it slip.

she has a meet ugly where the town handyman jump scares her with a plastic skeleton Halloween decoration and she trips back and falls into a puddle of mud ruining her busy business suit! the man isn't a bad guy though and he gives her a change of clothes and hey- she actually looks better dressed down out of that stuffy suit.

She's still pissed though and is in the middle of threatening him with the dry cleaning bill when her Execntic Uncle/ grandpa/ town old man walks in and officially introduces the two. Definitely not a werewolfman, who's been doing all this work setting up the town Halloween festival and Female Lead Back from the big city for the holiday and for some convoluted business reason too. even though they might not like each other now they have to at least be polite for the sake of this weird random old man they both know.

It becomes clear that Definitely Not a werewolfman is too kind for his own good and keeps trying to make everyone happy by promising impossible things at the Halloween festival and puts off planning and arranging things to play with kids and drink warm apple cider with old ladies so Female Lead has to step in with her busy business skills and get things in order, things start to fall into place and hey- they make a pretty good team. and even if Werewolfman isn't as serious as her new york boys...maybe that's a good thing.

They spend the night eating pumpkin spice cookies and drinking hot chocolate while making paper bat banners for a parade float and share a kiss. things are going great until oh no!! it turns out he's a werewolf and transforms in front of her.

she is inraged he never told her this huge secret over the week that they've known each other. She doesn't care that he's a werewolf- she cares that he lied to her and the town. Then she gets a call from Business Inc. back in New York. they need her back in town TOMORROW but- tomorrow is Halloween. what will she do? will she choose the town that accepted her and the Halloween festival she worked so hard on? or job?

Werewolf man sets off the festival and it's a huge hit but the whole time he's looking for Female Lead but can't find her...she must have gone back to NEEEEEW york... but then someone jumps out at him with a plastic skeleton it's Female Lead!! she staid after all and has been at the party in a Halloween costume. something she swore she'd never wear. he apologizes for hiding the fact he's a werewolf from someone he's known for less than a month. she says she's quit her job and is staying in town with him. they kiss and say i love you. then he pulls her away from the party to make a wish on a small cupcake with a candle on it- it is her birthday after all.

The cammera pans out to a shot of the old man from before who winks at the camera. he was the spirit of Halloween magic all along (sorry there's no Halloween equivalent of Santa)

[gretavanlace]

Poppins (part 5)

Josh/Jake Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, language, slight angst, etc

Sleep doesn’t plan on dropping in to visit you tonight, that much is clear. Still, it doesn’t stop you from staring up at the ceiling, longing for it.

If you could just quiet the storm inside your head, if only for a moment or two, you might be able to drift away.

All hope is lost completely when your phone begins to vibrate on the night stand beside you. It crosses your mind to ignore it, but no one calls at this hour for no good reason.

With an exasperated sigh, you roll to your side and grab it up.

“Perfect.” You mutter upon seeing Jake’s name displayed on the screen. Yet another facet stepping up to complicate this shit show of a night even further.

“This better be good.” 3 am phone calls don’t lend themselves to a proper greeting in your book.

“Well, hello to you, too, pretty girl.” He laughs, clearly bright eyed and full of piss and vinegar.

“I’m sleeping, Jacob.” You huff, flopping onto your back once again.

He calls your bluff. Of course he does. “No you’re not. You sound wide awake, and I need someone to keep me company.”

“No pretty young thing to follow you home from your gig tonight?” You ask, though you certainly don’t actually want to know.

He makes a sound in the negative, and then adds, “But if I get really hard up, I can just pop my head out the door and flag down one of the hookers that are loitering around this shit hole of a motel.”

“That bad?”

“I’ll put it this way,” he breathes a wisp of a laugh, “If I were to look under the bed and find a dead body, I wouldn’t be shocked. Not even a little bit.”

“Yikes.” You genuinely feel for him. Hotels and their germs freak you out as it is, you can’t fathom being expected to sleep in an establishment as fine as the one he’s describing.

“Make sure you check for bed bugs before you go to sleep.” It breaks your heart to think of him slumbering fitfully while tiny monsters feast away.

“You think I’m going anywhere near that bed?” He sounds offended, but you know better. “I’m sleeping in the fucking bathtub. I wish you were here, though.”

“So, you’d have me suffer through a night in hotel hell just so you’d have someone to keep you company? Narcissist.”

That halting laugh of his, the one you’re completely smitten with, makes an appearance, but his reply comes gently. “No. There’s just something about the thought of seeing something so beautiful surrounded by all this ugliness…I don’t know.”

That, you hadn’t expected.

He glosses over his honesty and begins telling you about the bar he’s playing. About how it used to be a speakeasy. How there are still scattered bullet holes in the walls from a raid. Al Capone once visited, he tells you animatedly, and broke a bartender's nose for speaking without respect…

On and on he prattles, and you let him, paying close attention to his every word. This isn’t your first time being ‘Jaked’ in the middle of the night.

And if you’re being honest, maybe your attentiveness has more to do with the fact that you miss him already. It’s good to hear his voice, that calming, soft rasp. His idiosyncratic tendencies - ‘you know’ as a place filler as he gathers his thoughts, interesting, suppose, it’s all so jake, and it makes you feel safe in the strangest way.

You ask questions in all the right places, not enough to interrupt, but just enough to encourage the stream of thoughts he has decided to share with you.

That is, until he catches on. “Are we whispering because it’s late, or because you’re at my brother’s?”

You pluck at the blanket thrown over you, chagrined. A child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “He was out of sorts with you gone, so I stayed. You know how he gets.”

“I get that way, too.” He points out softly. “Who babies me?”

You shrug, though he can’t see you “A girl in every port?”

“Would you stop with that?” He suddenly sounds sad, and it’s so unlike him you’re shocked into momentary silence.

It stretches on for a while, with you now staring at the wall as the tree outside lends the shadows of its leaves to dance and flutter in the night. And Jake, cooped up in some depressing, filthy room god knows where, breathing in stagnant air and mold spores.

He slices through it first, “Hey, poppins?”

“Hmm?” How easily can make your heart ache and pound without effort. They both can.

“Do you miss me?”

The hopefulness in his query makes you smile. He sounds almost…vulnerable?

“I do, Jake. I always miss you when you go away.”

A discreet hum of satisfaction is his only reply before the quiet returns. Then…

“Why are you at my brother’s, babe? Is this a ‘when the cats away the mice will play’ situation?”

Why is he always so calm and collected? Tipping his hand just enough to stoke the flames of your curiosity. And why is it so sexy?

“Are you the cat?” You ask softly, avoiding his actual question.

He sees your bet and raises the stakes “Are you two the mice?”

Still unwilling to hand over your secrets, you ask a question of your own. “What is this? You both really do get off on the competition of it all, don’t you? Is there a scorecard hidden away somewhere? Because I —“

“Hey,” he soothes, voice comforting like a warm, much loved quilt. “There’s no scorecard. We actually have a scoreboard. It lights up and everything. Cost a shit load.”

He successfully tugs a giggle out of you, plucking the thorn out of your side effortlessly. Seconds later, however, you’re right back where you started.

“Why, then? Sometimes I feel like I’m caught in sibling rivalry crossfire. Like I’m constantly ducking and dodging Kiszka bullets.”

“No such thing.” He’s trying his best to lighten things up. “We Kiszkas are noble and peaceful people.”

He desperately would like to be let off the hook… instead, you keep him dangling on the line. “I’m serious.”

At last, he gives in. “Alright, alright. The thing is, you can’t really blame us. Sometimes it’s unavoidable and that’s just science.”

“Science.” You repeat, unimpressed.

“Yes. Science. Identical twins, such as myself and my lesser half, share nearly indistinguishable brain wave patterns, and —“

“Jesus, do you two carry around some big book of twin factoids everywhere you go?”

Brushing your flippancy aside without comment, he continues on. “So, shared brain waves and 99.9% identical DNA means we view the world around us in much the same way. That’s why you hear those crazy stories about separated twins finding each other later only to discover they’ve been living parallel lives. Essentially, we’re the same person.”

“Is this where I come in?” You ask, trying hard to conceal the fascination hiding behind your nonchalance.

“Possibly.” In your mind's eye, you picture his fingers running over his lips in a gentle pinching motion. An endearing habit of his when he’s feeling contemplative. “But, sometimes I think it has very little to do with all of that. Sometimes I think it’s just you.”

“Me?’

“You’re the lighthouse, poppins…” his voice is soft and thoughtful. “And he and I are the ships. Question is, who will run ashore first?”

“Something happened between Josh and I tonight.” You confess. “And I honestly don’t know why I’m telling you. I just felt like you should know.”

“Doesn’t that make you think?” He questions, backing you into an invisible corner.

“Doesn’t what make me think?”

“The fact that you felt the need to tell me. It’s interesting, isn’t it?”

You’re not sure what to say to that, so you choose the easiest path and say nothing at all.

“Jealousy isn’t a character flaw I struggle with. Never has been.” You listen to the creaking groan of the likely cheap and worn chair he is repositioning himself in. “Territorial? I’ll own that, but almost never with Josh. So you have your fun, love. Get him out of your system. You and I both know which ship your light shines a little brighter for.”

He ends the call with little room for argument on your part. You consider calling him back to tell him he’s wrong (is he wrong?). Instead, you slip out of bed and pad down the hall towards Josh’s room, light and hushed on your feet.

~

Josh is dreaming of you. Lost in turquoise waters that lull him deeper and deeper, down down down. You’re everywhere. Your voice, echoing and purring with the delicate current. He is tangled in your silken hair. It glows in otherworldly shades of bioluminescent purple and he longs to touch it, but each lock dissolves into blinding glitter the moment he reaches for it. Closer to the floor of your sea he drifts, as your soft moans grow louder, accompanied by the alien mournful song of whales calling to one another, his unconscious world shifts…

Now you lie beneath him, twisted in wrinkled sheets, clinging to him as he rocks into you deeply. Your nails sting as they bite into and drag across his back and he hopes it burns forever. He likes it better here. Bathing in your ocean was bliss, but here he can touch your face. Here he can search your eyes for their secrets and taste your skin. He can hear the desire thrumming in your hummingbird heart. Here you are his.

He always thinks you’re beautiful, but like this, you are celestial. A supernova captured in his arms.

You call his name, but your eyes are cast over his shoulder. He knows without question who has come to dismantle his perfect world.

“Tell him to go.”

You shake your head languidly with a Mona Lisa smile, “I’d like him to stay.”

Squeezing around him just right, you run your fingertip down the bridge of his nose…

…and he startles awake with a curse.

~

His door isn’t closed, but merely pushed to…still, you lift a loose fist to knock lightly. A faint moan in the dark stops you.

It’s a tranquil sound, one you might expect to enjoy while caught up in slow and easy early morning sex. And while it isn’t overtly obscene, it steals the air from your lungs all the same.

He’s sleeping, your eyes have adjusted to the darkness enough to know that, but he breathes another sigh into the air, and then…your name.

Can a sound be poetic? Can inflection be art? Because that is the only way to describe the way your name sounds on his tongue.

He’s dreaming…and whatever world he has faded into holds some version of you inside of it as well. What is going on inside that brilliant, beautiful mind of yours, Joshua?

This is wrong. You should go back to bed and pretend this never happened…but the angel on your shoulder has taken the night off, leaving the shameless devil in charge, plotting nefariously.

A harsh hiss of “Fuck!” bites out of him, startling you. He sounds frustrated and furious. He is awake, and very unhappy about it.

Standing still as a statue, you wonder ridiculously if he can hear the wild beat of your heart.

Knock now, you think. Pretend you’ve just arrived at his door. For the second time, you raise your hand to knock, and for the second time, you stop in your tracks when you see it.

His hand slips beneath the sheets as a shutter of pleasure ripples out of his chest. It’s no more than a strangled gasp, but your body explodes into heated pins and needles.

The drag of his fist against the linens keeps time with the airy moans he is panting into the night. It’s fucking intoxicating and you so badly want to go to him.

Instead, you back slowly away from the crack into the door, retreating further back in the hall. You’ll slink back to bed and it’ll be like this never even happened —

A floorboard creaks. An inanimate object groaning to tattle tale and shine a spotlight on your presence.

He stops instantly as you clamp your eyes shut tightly for a split second…if I can’t see you, you can’t see me mentality.

And while you pray with your whole soul to disappear like smoke in the air, he rises, tucks himself back into his sweats, and confidently closes the space between the two of you.

Before you can process, his fingers lace around your wrist and pull you into the room. Your body is pressed against the door, his breath warm on your neck as he reaches behind you to twist the lock.

A single finger traces along your cheek before tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear. “Were you watching me?”

“I…” You stammer, guilty as sin. “I was just getting ready to knock and…”

His hand slides between your legs to tease his fingers over soaked cotton. “Oh,” he tilts his head, smug and pleased with his discovery. “Someone was enjoying the show. My sweet little thing has ruined her pretty panties.”

He finds your clit and presses against it, remaining still, taunting you with the delicious pressure of his touch. “Do you like to watch?”

You nod, the shame of being caught slowly seeping from your veins.

“Yeah?” He slips into your panties from the side and teases two fingers inside you, curling upward until your thighs are shaking. “You wanna watch me cum?”

A whine of desire trembles out of you, telling him all he needs to know.

His fucks his fingers into you just a hint faster. Building you up nice and easy, creating a heavenly push and pull that you never want to end. “Some other time, sweetheart. I’m far too in love with this soft little cunt of yours right now. Pink as cotton candy and just as sweet.”

Your hands are fisted into the shoulders of his worn out t shirt, steadying yourself as your hips rock to meet him.

“Jake called.” The words leave you as barely a whisper.

“Did he?” There is a conversational edge to his cadence. As though you might be discussing the weather while you clench and drip into the palm of his hand. “Missing you already?”

“I don’t know, he— oh, fuck…right there.”

“Right there?” You catch a glimpse of the cocky smirk playing over his lips in the dark. “I'll touch you right there, sweet girl. I’ll take care of you. Just relax and let me.”

Your back arches away from the door to bring your body nearer to his. You want him pressed against you, skin to skin. You want to melt into him and live there forever, surrounded by his warm light.

“You look so fucking pretty in this light.” The moon is filtering in through the window, cool and blue. You think of winter, and he mirrors your thoughts. “Like a snow angel.”

Your hand delves beneath his waistband of his tattered sweats. A chill races up his spine when you wrap your soft hand around him. “That’s it, sweetheart. Take what you want…good girl.”

You coil and quiver around his fingers, giving yourself away.

“You like that?” He nips his perfect teeth into your bottom lip. “You want to be my good girl? A perfect princess to make my cock hard and my heart ache?’

Tightening your grip, you stroke him faster, earning a groan, long and low, deep within his chest as he fucks you closer and closer to the edge with just his hand.

“Josh, please,” the air feels charged, the way it does just before a vicious summer storm unleashes. “I’m so close. Don’t stop.”

“Not gonna stop,” he rocks into your hand a little faster to catch up with you. ‘Not until I have what’s mine. Let go for me. Show me how beautiful you look when you cum.”

With another practiced twist of his hand, he drags you under, free hand covering your mouth to quiet your cries, though he wishes he could let you scream until you were hoarse and spent.

He chases after you, burying his face in the crook of your neck to muffle his own cries as he spills over your hand, tiny rivers of warmth that tickle your skin until your eyes flutter closed to savor the feeling.

It’s peaceful for a stretch, but when the words come, you don’t swallow them down like maybe you should. You speak them into existence like maybe you shouldn’t.

“He says you’re in love with me.”

His lips ghost over your cheek, light as the softest feather. “I am.”

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @paleshadow-ofadragon @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightjaketastic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @paintmyhouse @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @jordierama @calumspretty

[sanguineterrain]

✦steve with glasses and his messy hair looking so pretty as he tries to read and maybe study, pushing his glasses over the bridge of his nose, lips pursing when he tries to concentrate and his tongue poking out when he writes and scribbles down some notes <3

*heavy breathing* m.... m what have you done...

insecure!steve, slight make out, absolutely feral reader (it's me. I'm the reader.)

****

Steve is hunched over his kitchen table when you come in. He hasn't heard you yet, or he would've perked up and sought you out for kisses.

You set the tin of homemade cookies on the counter. You know Steve probably hasn't thought to eat much; ever since he threw himself into college applications, he's been somewhat of a hermit. He won't even let you help with his essays, which is very strange, but you don't question it. It's Steve's process, and whatever he needs from you, you're happy to provide.

But also: you haven't seen each other in two days, and you might go insane if you don't curl up with him on the couch soon.

You move quietly, not wanting to disturb his concentration. You place a few cookies on a plate and pour some milk from the fridge. You'd made snickerdoodles: Steve's favorite.

You pad over to the kitchen table. Steve's back faces you, shoulders curved inwards.

"Baby," you say softly, setting down the snack next to him. "You'll hurt your neck sitting like that."

You slip your hands over his shoulders and dip down to kiss his face and—oh.

You blink. Steve has... glasses?

"Hey," you start. "Where did—"

They're gone in a flash. Steve tears them off and shoves them into his pocket. His cheeks are dusted pink. You frown.

"Why'd you take 'em off, sweetie?"

Steve shakes his head.

"Didn't want you to know."

"Didn't want me to know... you wear glasses? Why not?"

Steve pushes hair behind his ear and fiddles with his pencil.

"'S stupid," he says.

"No," you reply immediately. "It's not stupid if it's making you feel bad. Tell me, baby, please?"

You sit in the adjacent chair and lean in to hold Steve's hand. You squeeze encouragingly. Steve swallows.

"People made fun 'f me," he admits quietly. "My–my dad said only weak men wear glasses."

"What? What the fuck does he know? God, what a—"

You catch yourself. Right. This is about Steve, not his prick father.

"Sorry, honey," you say. "Go on."

Steve shrugs. He's wound tightly, poised like he's ready to bolt any second.

"I've needed glasses since sixth grade. I just didn't wear them 'cause Tommy teased me. And some girls said I looked better without 'em. So I just never wore 'em. But now—" Steve swallows. "I—I guess the stuff with the Upside-Down made my vision worse 'cause the letters are too blurry for me to see without glasses."

Steve stops then. He looks at your neck, not your eyes. You realize he's waiting for you to pass judgment.

"Baby," you say. "Can you show me your glasses?"

Steve looks a little green at the request. You kiss his cheek, petting his face.

"I bet you look really cute," you add. "Bet I'll wanna kiss you till your glasses fog up."

Steve snorts at that.

"Smooth," he says. "Which one of us was the king in high school?"

You grin.

"What're you talking about, Stevie? Obviously, I ruled the school and you got all shy when I charmed your pants off."

Steve really does go shy at that. You prod his arm.

"Please, baby? I promise it's okay. Promise I won't make fun of you or laugh at you. You know I'd never do that."

Steve heaves a sigh. Then he reaches into his pocket and puts on the glasses.

The lenses are a little thick, and make Steve's big eyes even bigger. They're clear, thin frames that sit delicately on Steve's nose.

You have a visceral reaction because holy shit. Whoever said Steve looked ugly in glasses had stew for brains.

"Oh," you breathe.

"What?" Steve panics, reaching for the glasses. "What? They're bad, right? I knew I shouldn't have trusted that guy at the doctor's. He said everybody's wearing these, but—"

You stop him by his wrists. Steve looks at you, eyes wide with confusion.

"You look so good," you say.

Steve's ears go red. He ducks his head.

"You don't—you don't have to say that stuff, Y/N. I know they're dorky and—"

"No, Steve. I—fuck. You're so fucking cute."

You stand and situate yourself on his lap, straddling one thigh. You cup his face, feeling the soft skin.

"Such a pretty boy," you coo. "So, so pretty."

You take him for a proper kiss before he can argue. He follows along clumsily like maybe you really did rule the school instead of him, soft and pliant underneath.

You feel rabid. Of course, you hadn't expected Steve to look ugly in the glasses. Steve is handsome in everything. But...

You pull away. Steve's lips are swollen. His glasses are fogged up. You grin.

"Oh, baby. You've been holding out on me."

You tuck your hands behind his neck and twirl the shorter hairs there. Steve holds your hips, half-lidded.

"They really look good?" he asks, voice a little stronger.

"Yeah, sweetie. They really do. My handsome boy."

Steve swallows hard. You give him a chaste kiss on his nose and then reach behind to bring a cookie to his lips. He pouts.

"Eat," you order.

"But..." Steve openly stares at your lips.

"Eat," you say, leaning in. "And I'll fog up your glasses all you want. 'Kay?"

Steve takes the cookie.

[monikafilefan]

Jingle Bells and Jealousy 1

I realized I never shared my newest fic I wrote on Christmas Eve here. There’s 2 chapters: 1 in Mulder’s pov and 2 in Scully’s.

Have yourself a merry little Christmas

Let your heart be light

From now on, our troubles will be out of sight

Mulder scoffs as he draws the final insidious lines onto the smiling image of Santa Claus in front of him.

“Better,” he chuckles wryly.

The black ballpoint’s ink bleeds through the red and white dessert plate where the now new and improved Santa stares up at him. He blows cookie crumbs and remnants of pecan pie off his paper plate to get a good look at his masterpiece. The cookies were bland, but the pie hit the spot.

He feels overdressed and uncomfortable next to coworkers in ugly Christmas sweaters surrounded by tinsel by the pound. Good pie just might be the highlight of the night, Mulder muses sourly.

In a surprising turn of events while wrapping up a post X-File department budget meeting with Skinner this morning, Scully had confirmed that, yes, she was planning to attend the Bureau’s annual Christmas party for the first time in a long time. Mulder almost laughed at her joke — seeing as how they’d both agreed years ago that holiday parties could only serve to further ridicule their spooky department of two — before Skinner boldly stated that he’d hoped to see her there with her plus one. And to Mulder’s utter shock, Scully had blushed, avoided his probing gaze, and nodded. Scully had a date? His jaw had clenched so hard his teeth hurt. From there, Mulder’s plans to spend a quiet Christmas break on his couch with his pretty partner and a carton of Beijing beef had crumbled quicker than the pie crust now littering his lap.

Through the years, we all will be together

If the fates allow

Sinatra croons about fated happiness throughout the Hoover’s reception hall as Mulder slumps further in his seat. He’s only been here a half an hour and already regrets coming. The only plus side is that Diana and Spender are out of town on a case — an X-File, and aren’t here to silently mock his bullpen misery. If Scully hadn’t dropped a last minute bomb about attending this bureaucratic shindig, he sure as hell wouldn’t have either. Should have saved himself the embarrassment, he knows. He should’ve gone for a run instead of stewing in his apartment for three hours before changing his mind and frantically dusting off his tux he didn’t need for front row seats to a waking nightmare cheerfully playing out in front of him.

He isn’t sure his heart can handle what his eyes cannot get enough of: Dana Scully is absolutely gorgeous. Though, she’s always been pretty to him. Even when she emerges from her one star motel room at five a.m., sleepy-eyed and grumpy, rolling her eyes at his new case glee, Fox Mulder is wholly enamored.

But now… Christ. It must be his sorrow kicking him while he’s down again, because Scully has never been more beautiful. The green, form fitting cashmere cardigan looks so good on her with its top two buttons undone and something red and lacy peeking out underneath. It’s festive, flirty. The fine lines of her collarbones rise and fall in time with her shoulders as she sips her wine amongst the crowd. But her luminous appearance is hardly the attribute that attracts him to his partner the most. Her mind, her stubbornness, her heart… all of her has made him fall foolishly and dangerously in love.

And she looks happy without him.

Mulder sighs, sick to his stomach. He doesn’t deserve her attention anyway. His attitude pretty much proved that in the bullpen earlier tonight…

They leave the meeting with Skinner in a blur as Mulder silently reels at the implication of Scully dating, feeling the invisible noose of self-deprecation squeezing tighter.

“I thought you were going to conveniently miss that budget meeting,” Scully comments when they enter the nearly empty bullpen. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Where you, go I go,” he casually admits, trying not to sound as possessive as he feels right now. Because it’s the truth and the promise he’d silently made on his knees as he’d sobbed by her bedside in the Oncology ward.

She huffs a laugh. “Is that an early New Year’s resolution?”

“Not really new.” Mulder flops down in his chair and contemplates further, watching her fiddling with the mess on his tiny desk. He wants to just ask if she’s seeing someone. If she’s finally gotten sick of his shit and moved on, but for the first time in his life, he isn’t sure he wants the truth. “So you’ve decided to attend the Christmas party this year?”

Scully stops stacking files of neglected background checks and gives him a meaningful look. “I have.”

“You don’t think this is just another way to punish us, or you, if you go?” He whispers while pointing a pencil toward Kersh’s office across the hall. “You know how they operate up here.”

“Does enjoying a little Christmas music and conversation really seem like discipline to you?”

“Yes,” he says immediately.

“There’s pie,” she teases, pulling his discarded invitation he never read from the recycling bin and sliding it enticingly across the desk.

As much as he is itching to know more about her party plans, playing cool, calm, and collected feels less desperate. So he feigns disinterest and shrugs, “You know I’m picky about pie.”

Scully cocks her head and crosses her arms. “There’s me.”

“And you’re standing right here like always,” he offhandedly adds, hating his forced indifference more with every dismissive word that rolls off his tongue.

“Like always,” she mumbles. And out of the corner of his eye, he sees her shoulders slump, her arms falling limply to her sides. “Where I go, you go, but not if it includes socializing above subterranean territory?”

Something about the snide way she says that irritates him. Scully’s been just as pissed off about their reassignment to shit duty as he is and has never complained about being in the bowels of the basement with him. Not once.

Whatever reign he’d had on his internal turmoil snaps.

He spins around in his chair and points the pencil at her accusingly. “Am I too much of a loner for you now, is that why you’re bringing a plus one?” he hisses. “A date?”

“Excuse me?” A wave of anger rises within her sea blue eyes. Brow arched, she opens her mouth to rip him a new one he definitely deserves, but then seemingly reconsiders within earshot of others, tilting her head instead. “So what if I am?” she prods, sharp as a scalpel.

It’s unfair, he knows. His agitation and accusation. She’s never mentioned dating anyone before. Has never given him a reason to ask if she was, but the sudden white-hot flare of jealousy in his chest hurts more than her “oh brother” response to his recent love confession than he could have imagined.

Scully is staring at him like she wants to shove him against a wall and choke him with his tie. Mulder’s gut twists.

He tosses the pencil and stands. “Scully, I’m sorr-”

She holds up a halting hand.

“I’m going to the party tonight, Mulder.” Her voice is soft, a little shaky. “With or without you.”

Before Mulder can say another word, Scully turns on her heel and walks out of the bullpen, leaving him alone with a lump in his throat.

Now, Mulder’s heart hammers in time with the beat of the “Little Drummer Boy” echoing off the Bureau’s walls.

He had thought he could handle this soul-crushing feeling of heartbreak when he’d decided to come. He’d told himself he could push his own feelings aside for Scully’s happiness and show up to prove to her he’s really not a hermit intentionally holding her back in life. To remind her that he will do any thing for her. But now, confronted with the reality of her hand caressing another man’s forearm in a room riddled with mistletoe, he finds the sight of it is like a tabloid headline at a gas station checkout people are too ashamed to buy but can’t help indulging in a quick flip-through. Goddammit! His fists clench along the snowflake tablecloth. Like a train wreck, he cannot look away.

“Devil horns on Santa Claus, Mulder?” A.D. Skinner scolds wearily from over his shoulder.

Mulder startles and tears his eyes away from the woman he loves. He should have known he couldn’t wallow at a party in peace. “It’s Krampus, sir.”

“Looks about as cheerful as you do,” Skinner retorts.

Mulder pushes his defiled plate aside. “If I hear one more song about old Saint Nick, I might stuff my ears with marshmallows.”

“As much as you may deserve it after blowing the quarterly budget; again, a party isn’t a punishment, Mulder. Even when you’re off the files.”

The increasing ache in Mulder’s chest disagrees.

“You sound like Scully.”

“Then maybe you should listen.” Skinner nods toward Scully at the opposite side of the room. She’s smiling brightly as the same good-looking agent with dark skin and a gleaming grin hands her a glass of wine. “Agent Scully seems to be enjoying herself.”

“She deserves it,” Mulder mumbles moodily, doing a piss-poor job of ignoring the green-eyed Grinch gnawing a hole in his gut. And it doesn’t make it any less true, his closest, most cherished friend deserves the best.

“She’s said the same thing about you, you know,” Skinner huffs and shakes his head. The twinkling lights decorating the reception hall reflect off his boss’s scalp like a skin-colored disco ball. “Go on, show your tux a good time. Drink some eggnog, make some bullpen buddies. You know, live a little.”

“Dunno, Skinman. Sounds like a bad idea to me.”

“Jesus, Mulder.” Skinner reaches over and snags one of the bundles of mistletoe taped to the hall’s wall and shoves it into Mulder's palm. “Here, consider it my gift to you.”

“Uh,” Mulder blinks. “You shouldn’t have, sir.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Skinner rolls his eyes and pokes at the plastic flower. “For your partner. You know, the woman who — by some miracle, insists on defending you at every turn over the last six years. The same woman I overheard decline multiple dance offers already because of you.”

“How much punch have you had, sir? Because I saw Tom Colton pour a bottle of Jim Beam in there earlier.” Still, his hopeful eyes scan the crowd in search of Scully’s beckoning ones. But her back is turned, her date brazenly tucking a loose tendril of hair behind her ear. Mulder’s heart sinks to his shoes. “She couldn’t have said that about me.”

“Does she really have to?” Skinner asks incredulously.

Mulder tsks and flicks a stray chocolate chip across the table. “Considering she’s here with someone else and has ignored me since I walked in, I’d say so.”

“Well, even I know when your partner’s annoyed with you. More than usual, anyway.” Mulder can only shrug at the big man’s statement. He’s not wrong. “You didn’t tell her you were coming, did you?”

“No, I wasn’t planning to show up at all. Not until-” Mulder stops and groans, his last vestige of hope fading faster than his will to be here.

“Until you were you and jumped to conclusions without supporting evidence? Can’t say I’m surprised.”

“The supporting evidence is currently palming my partner’s back,” Mulder grumbles under his breath as dark thoughts invade his brain. “You heard her in your office,” he says loud enough for Skinner to hear this time. “She’d planned to bring a date before I even knew she was coming.”

Skinner side eyes him. “How do you know she wasn’t talking about you?”

Mulder ponders that prospect as the festive music makes his head pound. He and Scully are in an emotional stalemate as of late. Both treading lightly, trying not to hurt each other, and he fears he's doing a shit job of it. It’s been a domino of disasters between Antarctica and his heated hallway confession, being booted from the files, the Diana debacle, and with Kersh breathing down their necks more and more has undoubtedly tugged hard on their tethered partnership. Mulder would be lying if he said he isn’t worried about losing her more than ever.

“Look, Scully and I are friends,” he responds solemnly. “Best friends. And yeah, I… well, you seem to already know,” he admits in defeat. Somehow, Mulder isn’t embarrassed to confess the unplatonic pull toward his partner to Skinner. His endless love for Scully is practically screaming at this point. “But I’m me. And she…”

“You’re too smart to be this stupid,” Skinner mutters, exasperated.

“Hey,” Mulder scoffs. “She has a date who looks to be the exact kind of man her family would love to see sweep her off her feet. Anyway, I don’t ever want to be the reason she can’t have what makes her happy.”

“For Christ’s sake, Mulder,” Skinner leans down close. “Last month Agent Scully put her ass — and mine — on the line without a second thought to rescue yours from the Bermuda Triangle for a reason. And that’s just one of the recent stunts she's pulled that could’ve cost her her job, and her life. The crazy thing is, I don’t think she cares as long as you’re by her side in the end.”

Mulder clears his rapidly thickening throat to speak, but Skinner shoots him his Shut The Hell Up And Listen look.

“And you’re sulking?” Skinner continues, chuckling to himself. “I know you’re angry about your reassignment. Rightfully so, but now is not the time to show it. You’ve gone head to head with Cancer Man, jumped off a bridge and onto a moving train — and whatever other insane things you’ve done behind my back, let alone Kersh’s, so I know you’re brave enough to haul your ass across this room and enjoy yourself.”

Mulder can’t help but smirk. “Now that’s a pep talk.”

Skinner loosens his candy cane striped tie as his eyes search the crowded room.

“I’ve never known two people so irritatingly stubborn in my life. Consider this my gift to you. Go ask Agent Scully to dance, and apologize for… well, everything, and use that mistletoe for God’s sake.” He slaps a heavy hand on Mulder’s shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “She’s waiting for you to pull your head out of your ass. Don’t blow it.”

Mulder’s mouth hangs open as the A.D. saunters off through the crowd with an unusual pep in his step. If Mulder didn’t know better, he’d think his boss just offered him fatherly advice. He scrubs his hands over his eyes and catches a familiar flash of red hair across the room, feeling a rush of renewed bravery take hold. The big man is right. What the hell is he doing torturing himself instead of seeking out the reason he’s come here?

He wipes the crumbs from his lap and weaves his way through the throng of buzzed and festive Feds. It looks like Kris Kringle threw up Christmas itself here. There are decorations everywhere. As Mulder rounds a corner to follow Scully out into the hallway, an upbeat song blares through the speaker near his ear.

Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock

Jingle bells chime in jingle bell time

A group of women in red velvet and green lace bump into him and ask him to dance, tell him how good he looks in a tux, but Mulder doesn’t care. Not when Scully is fifteen feet in front of him, talking awfully close with the man Mulder now recognizes as another new agent in the lab. Her handsome, science nerd date with his hands gently cupping Scully’s arms, smiling sweetly at her as she nods up at him. Mulder freezes. With breath caught in his chest, he watches by the wayside in horror as the man seemingly leans down and presses a lingering kiss to Scully’s upturned lips.

What a bright time, it's the right time

To rock the night away

Mulder’s heart nearly stops.

An explosion of emotion flares in his gut. Frustration, sadness, disappointment… Anger. Anger at himself, at the lucky bastard kissing his one in five billion. He grits his teeth, swallows hard against the molten burn of it all, and turns around before Scully sees the misery on his face.

Mix and a-mingle in the jingling feet

That's the jingle bell

Maybe this is what was supposed to happen tonight: fate telling him he deserves whatever shitty cards he’s dealt. But fuck, he loves her. He loves her fiercely and wants her to be happy. Whether it’s with him, or someone else, it shouldn’t matter as long as she’s living a life she chooses. A life she deserves.

It shouldn’t matter, but goddammit, it does.

So Mulder tamps down tears, and walks away.

That’s the jingle bell

He stalks out of the hall and bursts his way through the double doors, relieved to escape into the snow covered streets. He frantically searches his pockets for his car keys when his fingers get caught on the mistletoe’s hard plastic petals. Instantly, his nose stings and eyes water. He’s not sure if it’s from the pain of his heart shattering or the icy December air. He doubts it matters.

He doubts anything does, anymore.

That’s the jingle bell rooock

[onstrangerthighs]

The Ugly Truth

Despite wishing her mother good night thirty minutes ago, Nancy’s eyes refuse to shut. Whenever she starts to drift off, she sees Barb crawling out from underground to blame her for what happened that night. Nancy would argue her case, but there’s no defense. She failed her friend. Barb hadn’t even wanted to go along in the first place! 

I’m going insane just lying here. Maybe some warm milk will calm me down.

She passes the bathroom on the way to the stairs. Mom’s not in the tub? I didn’t hear the water go off. Huh. 

The front door is open, and there’s the boy from Tina’s party who came speeding into Hawkins High School’s parking lot with his car radio on full blast. The boy Steve keeps staring at like a stunned fish. She’s shit with remembering names. Ben… something? 

Curiosity gets the better of her. She stays very still on the second step, ears and eyes peeled. 

Mom answered the door in her bathrobe? Nancy shifts her attention to Ben- no Billy, his name’s Billy. He seems… tense. Fidgety. 

“I’m Nancy’s mother.” 

“No.” 

For some reason, Billy saying that in a clearly sarcastic tone makes her mother twirl her hair and giggle, “Yes” like a schoolgirl with a crush. 

You’ve never acted this way with Dad. 

“Mrs. Wheeler.” 

“Um, I’m sorry, and you are?”

“Billy. Billy Hargrove.” He extends a hand for her to shake, and when she does, he puts his other hand over hers.

What the fuck is happening? Why aren’t you pulling away? 

“You must be here for Nancy.” 

“Nancy? No, no, no.”

One no would’ve done the trick. 

“Not my type.” 

Nancy snorts into her hand. 

“Uh… No, actually I am looking for my little sister Max. Goes by Maxine. She’s been missing all day, and, uh, to be honest with you, I’ve been worried sick, you know, so…”

“Oh.” 

You sound almost… disappointed. Why would you be, unless… No. Surely not. 

“I thought she was at Lucas’, but Mrs. Sinclair said your house is the…the designated hangout, so, you know… Here I am.” 

This has got to be the worst pretend pickup line I’ve ever heard. He’s got no interest in you, Mom. You know that, don’t you? 

Billy comes in, and if he notices Nancy lurking at the top of the stairs as he goes into the kitchen, he doesn’t say anything. 

“Their driveway is pretty dark this time of night,” Mom says, scribbling down an address for him. “So drive slowly.”

“Always.” He pockets the address and takes an extra bitter oatmeal cookie for the road. 

Under the kitchen light, her mother dies, and all she sees is Karen Wheeler biting her bottom lip as she watches him walk away, her eyes glued to his ass. 

Nancy doesn’t remember when her gun appeared in her hands, but her brain is surprisingly clear when she pulls the trigger. A bullet goes right between Karen’s eyes. 

Killing people is surprisingly easy when you see who they really are. 

Billy lies flat on the floor, hands cupped over his ears. 

“I’m not going to shoot you.” 

“You killed… your mother. God, Hicktown is fuckin’ crazy!” 

Boy, he really catches on quick. 

“You don’t know the half of it.” Nancy steps over Karen’s body and dials the number of Hopper’s secretary. She’s more likely to pick up than the Chief himself. “Hi, this is Nancy Wheeler. I need to talk to Chief Hopper. It’s important.”

She hears a grunt, and prepares the crocodile tears. Billy stares at her with a mix of awe and horror as her lower lip begins to tremble. “My mother st-started acting really strange. She turned the air conditioner down because she “liked it cold”. She-she loved the house being warm. Her voice came out all-all deep and empty. I looked into her eyes, and I knew my mother wasn’t…” she takes a shaky breath for added effect, then continues, “I knew she was gone. So I… I shot her. I don’t want to go to jail! I’m so scared, Chief.” 

“You did the right thing, calling me. I’ll stop by your house and take care of things, okay? Do you have anywhere else to go tonight?”

“I’m not sure. I-”

 Billy’s not on the floor anymore. His headlights are on. Crap.

I need to make sure he knows not to say anything. 

Nancy gets into the passenger seat and he sends her a dirty look. 

“You should really start locking your doors. It’s a safety precaution.”

“... I will keep that in mind. Now get out of my car.” 

“You said you were looking for your sister, right?”

“She’s not my sister.”

“But you said-” “I know what I said. Look, I’d prefer to forget everything said and done in your freakshow house, Wheeler.”

“Nancy.” 

“Fine. Nancy.” 

“I know where Max is.” 

“I’m not giving you shit in exchange for that information.” 

“Well I should hope not.” Has this sort of thing happened to him before?

“I know how to keep a secret. I just… why did you do it?” 

“We were always arguing. She never heard me. What pushed me over the edge was how she was with you. It made me want to puke. She should’ve stuck to her own age group.” 

Billy goes eerily quiet, hands gripping his steering wheel until his knuckles turn white. His shoulders slacken, and he unclenches his jaw to offer her a weary, appreciative smile. 

“Max is at the Byers’ house. Mike’s there, too. I can’t take him back to that house. He didn’t know… I don’t suppose you have room where you live?” Billy tenses up again. 

She takes that as a no.”

“I’ll be your guide to the Byers’. I’m sure Mrs. Byers wouldn’t mind us staying over.” 

He gives her a terse nod.

“Us includes you, Bonnie.”

Billy blinks several times, temporarily breaking out of his grim state. “Bonnie? Hold on, why the fuck am I not Clyde? Clyde’s a man.”

Nancy lets out a long sigh. “Do you actually care about that crap?”

“... No. I don’t,” he admits. “Bonnie has better hair anyway, so it fits.” 

“You think you’re funny, huh.” 

“I think I’m a fucking riot.” 

“Humor is subjective.”

“It was your joke!” 

****** “Am I dreaming, or is that you, Harrington?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Don’t cream your pants.” 

Okay, now I wish I’d shot myself instead. 

“Nancy???” Steve exclaims, dragging his eyes away from Billy’s chest. 

So that’s why Billy took his jacket off. 

She snickers, shaking her head. Steve Alexander Harrington, you haven’t changed one bit. 

Billy seems to be glowing from Steve’s attention. Dorks. 

“What’re you doing here, amigo?”

“Yeah, I could ask you the same thing, amigo.” 

Oh, Steve, you’re not fooling anyone. 

“Looking for my stepsister. A little birdie told me she was here.”

Nancy awkwardly waves. I doubt they’re even aware I exist. 

“Huh. That’s weird. I don’t know her.”

“Small, redhead, bit of a bitch?”

“I heard that!” a girl yells from inside the house. 

“I wanted you to!” 

“You guys are going to wake up the whole neighborhood!” Nancy yells.

“I think we’re a little quieter than a gu- guy who’s bangin’ his wife.” 

“Are you two… friends or something?” Steve says, squinting like he’s come face to face with an impossible math problem. 

“Amigos in crime.” 

“You didn’t tell him any embarrassing stories about me, did you? Nance?” 

“Stories? What stories?” 

“It’s a school night. We should all head inside and get some rest.”

“Nance!” 

“Shut up, Steve.”

“Yeah, shut up, Pretty Boy.” 

“Keep the flirting to a minimum, there are children present.”

Steve’s jaw drops. “WHAT? FLIRTING?”

Billy cackles, slapping his knee, his face matching the color of his shirt. 

New hobby unlocked. 

*****

“Does Mrs. Byers have any grub around here? I’m gonna check the fridge.”

“Billy, I wouldn’t do that if I were you-"

“WHAT THE FUCK-”

[kittenwalker]

Christmas hdcs with the evans?!

notes : hey sorry i took so long to write this request but i wanted to write this when the festive day is arriving so here’s a little something to get you into the Christmas mood if you’re not already :) love you all enjoy!

Evan Peters : 

- Christmas with him is like a dream, everything you could wish for.

- You wanted to go shopping but Evan decided to stay back, quoting, ‘ I hate shopping ‘ . Oh well no company for you I guess, so you just went alone.

- You came back about 2 hours later, giving time for Evan to secretly decorate the whole house. Making it feel like you were in Santa’s work shop.

- You came back and opened the door to see the house all lit up with candles and stockings up at the chimney, there was even a plain Christmas tree waiting for you.

- ‘ Woah so this is why Evan didn’t want to shop with you, sneaky little boy. ‘ Evan then came up to you with a cup of hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows. What a cutie he is, him smiling like a fool with his adorable dimples

- “ I didn’t do the Christmas tree yet, I knew you’d like to do it with me. “ He said taking a sip of the hot cocoa. It was true, you loved decorating the tree and making it look pretty. 

- He also made a little scavenger hunt around the house to make you find your present. Evan really put in a lot of effort into this relationship and it was really sweet.

- You ended up finding your gift in the... shower? It had a weird shape to it, you curiously ripped open the present. And it was something really naughty, a dildo. It had a sticky note on it saying ‘ made sure you wouldn’t feel alone while I’m gone, think of me while using it 😉 ‘. You felt a little hot already thinking about using it, and as if Evan read your mind, he leaned down and whispered. “ I can teach you how to use it now you know? “ 

- Let’s just say you couldn’t walk the next day.

Tate Langdon : 

- Tate acts like a cool bad boy but he secretly has a soft spot for Christmas 

- Especially when after you arrived at the house, he enjoyed all of the holidays better as he had company and a meaning to celebrate it. (you can decided if you’re dead or still alive)

- Tate loves Christmas deep down because he can feel like a child again, getting presents, watching light-hearted movies, and drinking hot cocoa. Making him forget about his terrible past and mistakes he made.

- Tate would be the one to initiate the ideas of watching Christmas movies and wearing ugly sweaters, because he’s the more festive one between the two of you.

- The only thing he won’t do is karaoke to Christmas songs, though you persuade him somehow. ( with a mouth and a few strokes 😏 )

- You and Tate would be the one decorating the Christmas tree, with Moira's help, while Vivian and Ben helped choose out the ornaments. 

- You’d also drag Tate out into the backyard and play with the snow, you would jokingly throw snow at him but it would result in a snowball fight. You’d end up getting tired of chasing Tate around the house and would collapse onto the snow, with Tate joining you. The two of you would just be there as you closed your eyes, sharing an earpiece with Tate and listening to the classic Nirvana no matter what occasion it was. Laying down there with your love, listening to great music while snow was falling onto the both of you.

- Safe to say Christmas was both their favourite time of the year.

Kit Walker :

- You and Kit would celebrate this day with your two kids.

- The kids would traditionally leave one cookie and a glass of milk for Santa, before going to sleep.

- Kit would rush the kids to sleep early so the both of you can secretly place the gifts under the tree, and then eat the cookie with the milk. Then in the morning you would make up a story of how Santa came down from the chimney and ate the cookie while gifting the amazing presents.

- Sometimes when you are in the festive mood, you would want to bake a pie with Kit. Dragging him to the supermarket to get the ingredients so you can make the blueberry pie from scratch.

- You'd turn on the radio and switch it to a channel where there was some festive music playing, swaying your hips to the music while baking. The kids would smell the making of the delicious pie and would whine to help you stir the mixture, and you would pass it to them, letting them have their fun while you and kit made the blueberry jam.

- The whole family would be together in the kitchen, happily baking.

- After making the pie, Kit would switch on The Nightmare Before Christmas in the living room television. The family would then move to the couch with a slice of pie on their plate and a glass of milk. 

- Each parent would have one child on their lap, cuddling with them while watching the movie.

- After the movie finished, it would be about 11 pm which was way past the kids' bedtime. So you and Kit would bring them to brush their teeth and tuck them into bed, giving them each a kiss on their foreheads.

- You would stay up for a while more with Kit just chatting and surprising him with his own gift you had gotten him, he himself had one for you too. You went first and surprised him with a watch he had been whining to get for himself. Kit was thrilled when he saw what you had bought him, he wore it to work everyday.

- Now for your gift, Kit got you a pair of dark red lingerie. They were really pretty and were a nice new pair to add to your collection. But when you looked up you saw Kit smirking at you, leaning in he whispered. “ Why don’t you give a try-on show now? “, heat crept up onto your face as you felt wet already.

- Would up with a hot, steamy, and seggsy time 😉

Frat boy Kyle Spencer :

- Of course Kyle’s fraternity brothers would invite him to have a party over at their house, but he would reject the idea because he wants to spend the day with you.

- Kyle would wake up early and plan the day ahead on what to do with you. He woke up at 8 am, walking up to the window to see the whole ground covered in snow. Making a smile appear on his lips, he loved winter where it was always chilly and pretty and the vibes were immaculate.

- Feeling Kyle’s warmth missing in bed, you woke up worried about where he had gone. Rubbing the blur away from your eyes, you turned your head around until you found Kyle dazing out at the window, with a real happy smile plastered onto his face. 

- Looking at him smiling like a child made you chuckle, seeing him so interested in something he likes is really cute. He always got that inner child in him that didn’t get to fulfil all the childish things. Not letting the moment go, you quickly grabbed your phone and snapped the cute moment, saving it as a memory forever.

- Following the day, Kyle would make you wear an ugly Christmas sweater and bring you to the mall to get some gingerbread houses. You and Kyle got a little carried away with the shopping and ended with more than what was needed. Kyle got two Santa hats and a Santa beard  for himself, you on the other hand got a few Christmas candles that were on sale. 

- Coming back home, you lit up the fire-pit and the few candles that you have bought to make it have the warm and christmassy feel in the room. After that Kyle would play Mariah Carey’s Merry Christmas Album on his computer, connecting it to the speaker, jamming out to it while you both were decorating gingerbread houses. 

- Laughter filled the room as you laughed at the result of Kyle’s attempt at making his house. It was all slobbly and messing, the piping bag exploded on him and icing went everywhere. A blob of it on his house and some smeared all over his hands. 

- You’d clean up the cookie crumbles and icing on the counter then watch a movie in Kyle’s room while snuggling together. You would probably fall asleep halfway through the movie, seeing that you did, Kyle would switch off the movie and give you a kiss on the temple. Saying his nightly ‘ I love you ‘ before bringing you closer and falling asleep in the crook of your neck.

Frankin Kyle spencer : 

- Two hands shook you from your slumber, making your eyes open to the sight of Kyle shaking your arms. Looking over at your bedside desk, you saw the time, 7.36 am. God, what was Kyle doing waking you up so early?  “ C-Christmas Y/n, it’s Christmas t-today. '' Oh shoot that’s right, you revised so many spells last night you had forgotten that today was Kyle’s favourite time of the year. 

- Knowing Kyle, he woke you up so early this morning to go revive Bob the snowman. Last year you and Kyle made a cute snowman outside of the academy, but of course some douche bag killed Mr. Snowman which made Kyle really devastated. So I made him a deal to bring back Bob every Christmas. 

- Today being the special day, you brought its black hat, a carrot, and a few buttons. You dressed Kyle up warmly so he wouldn’t catch a cold while being outside in this type of weather. Going out to the snow, Kyle rushed to a spot and started rolling up balls of snow to make its body. 

- After that you stacked up the three balls up according to size and decorated the snowman. Giving him his eyes, nose, hands, and buttons. You let Kyle do the honours of putting his hat on and completing his beloved child. 

- Kyle was so glad to see his friend back and wanted to keep him company forever, until Miss Cordelia caught us in the snow and called us back in as being out there for too long would make us sick.

- Miss Cordelia would offer the both of you a cup of hot cocoa and you would gladly accept the warm drink. You would sit there and chat with Cordelia until Kyle began to whine because he was bored. Excusing the two of you, you brought Kyle upstairs and took out some extra board games you had in your cabinets.

- You began playing the game, giggles coming left and right as the game progressed. Kyle managed to win every round, which made you shocked, you couldn’t even win one round of your favourite game. Kyle was too good at this, and because he won all the rounds, you were going to reward him with some snacks.

- Telling Kyle to stay in your room as you made the surprise delights. Making pre-made cookies and s'mores, Kyle’s favourites with a glass of milk. Making it as quick as possible to not keep the impatient Kyle waiting. One plate for cookies, one plate for s’mores and a cup of milk. Juggling them in your hands, you struggled to hold all of them. Kicking open the door, you heard a snoring Kyle in your bed. Oh no, you made him wait for too long. You placed the food on your bedside desk and joined him into bed, being the bigger spoon as you fell into deep sleep as soon as you laid down due to waking up too early.

- Christmas is always a day of cuddles and immaculate vibes with your cute love.

Jimmy Darling : 

- To follow the event, you and your other friends in the freakshow will help decorate the whole area of the main tent including the entrance. Making it have the christmassy feeling, Jimmy would also chop down a nice tree and place it in the main tent as well. You, Pepper, and Eve would be the ones decorating it since it’s something you all enjoy doing.

- The amount of ‘ freaks ‘ in the show is too big to get everyone gifts, plus you all weren’t really financially stable to get too much. So Eve made up the idea of doing Secret Santa to keep up with the festivities.

- Everyone would write their names on a slip of paper and put it in a Santa hat, passing it around to let everyone draw a name. You got Bette and Dot, so that means you had to get two separate gifts as they were two completely different people. You didn’t mind spending a little more than you should as you really loved the twins, they were your best friends.

- And it seems like a little someone got your name, Jimmy Darling. The most charming guy you have ever met, and the first guy that has been nice to you or befriended you for being who you are. Of course you started falling for him, who wouldn’t when a man like him is kind, caring, and handsome. Though you kept your distance with him ever since you saw him flirting with Maggie. 

- You brought your sunglasses with you before you went out of your caravan. As you had two different coloured eyes that everyone always made fun of, calling you a dimbo. You walked to the mall and went shopping for the twins.

- You went in the mall and quickly went back to the freakshow as you noticed the sky getting dark and a lady like you shouldn’t be out, especially with a kidnapper out and about. Leaving the mall feeling confident of what you got for the twins, knowing they would love it. You got Dot a set of watercolours as she has been getting into arts & crafts and you think she should pursue it. Then you got Bette a pair of flower earrings with a couple of makeup products as she was the beauty queen. Finally you bought a new matching headband set for the two of them to match. You definitely spent way over budget but they were friends and most importantly, family.

- Safely reaching back into your caravan, you wrapped up the gifts and wrote a note to each of them before placing it into a paper bag.

- God were you excited for tomorrow, you got to be with your family and spend time with them. You loved every ‘ freak ‘ so dearly.

- Everyone was passing the gifts to the person they got and opening them, in excitement. The main tent filled with happy laughter and chatting and sounds of ripping wrapping paper. You gave your gifts to Bette and Dot and watched as they unravelled the paper off of it. You watched as a smile popped up on both their faces, seeming thrilled and pleased with their presents. “ Oh thank you Y/n, this is really such a lovely gift. “ Dot smiled towards you as Bette was still in a daze, smiling gleefully at her new make-up.

- Feeling a tap on your shoulder, you turned to your right side, seeing Jimmy standing beside you while holding out a poorly wrapped gift. It didn’t matter because it was the effort that counted and plus it was by Jimmy, you were already flattered he got you something.

- Your eyes glistened as you took the gift from Jimmy’s hands, unwrapping the red packaging. You took out the circled shaped object, placing it in your hands as you inspected it. God it was the perfume you always wore everyday, but it was sold out. How did Jimmy get it?  “ Jimmy, where did you find this!? I went everywhere and could never get my hands on it. “ You beamed at him. “ Let’s just say I have my ways. “ He winked at you as a shade of pink crept up to your face. 

- You thanked him and gave him a warm hug with a kiss on the cheek. You swore when you kissed him, he froze for a split second, turning red. But you might be hallucinating as well.

- After all the joy with presents, Elsa suggests to end off the celebration with a fun game of never have I ever, but with a twist. Instead of putting down a finger, you take a shot. Safe to say, you were really wasted after the game as it seems everyone was trying to sabotage you to drink. Well they won, you were completely out that Jimmy had to carry you back to your trailer.

- “ Jimmy, jim jim jimmy. You are so lovely, I wish I could kiss you! “ You screamed a melody as he was getting you ready for bed but froze as you said those words. “ Did you actually mean those words? “ He questioned. “ Of course, silly! I have liked you since the first day, you were just so nice unlike any guy I’ve met… “ You slurred.

- Jimmy was star struck because of what was coming out of your mouth as he liked you too. Though he wanted to kiss and make love with you in this instance, you were under the influence and he was a gentleman, so instead of fooling around in your pants. He laid you down and placed a ibuprofen pill with a glass of water on the desk for your hangover the next morning. Placing a kiss on your forehead whispering ‘ I like you too doll ‘ before leaving your trailer. 

- Little did he know, you were awake and what he said had sobered you up immediately. Making you toss and turn, squirming about what he had said. 

- Best Christmas ever.

James Patrick March : 

- Of course James was never a big fan of the most adored day of the year. It didn’t bring him joy seeing all those people being happy, he wanted to just squeeze the living out of them. So Christmas was always any other ordinary day for him, until he met you.

- The countess wasn’t giving him much attention anymore and had so many affairs with other men, he decided to move on and find a new love. James was walking through the halls of rooms, to find his chute so he could dispose of his fresh dead body. He stumbled upon you, killing someone.

- You shared the same interest as James, liking a bit of killing yourself. It just brought you joy to see them bleed and fall to their death below your knees or watch them beg for you to spare them, such fools.

- Long story short, love at first murder sight you could say. Both of you were doing something criminal before falling in love with each other.

- James would always just spend his Christmas like his regular days, but you actually liked this time of the month. The only moment when you could feel like a child again, and because you were James’ dearest, he would do anything you requested for.

- Today you woke up to a bed in breakfast, eating with James was such a pleasure as he would always be gone in the morning. After that you'd take a shower and put on a long black dress from your gorgeous closet.  

- James treated you like an absolute queen on Christmas or like everyday, but on this special day he spoiled you the most. You didn’t really want fancy things though, just wanted to spend the day with him, doing what everyone else would do on Christmas.

- But of course James being James he had to get you a present, a shiny delicate diamond necklace. Not much, just something simplistic which suited your style. You too got him something, a new tie that would complete a full look with his suit that matched with it.

- You’d always go to Liz’s bar first thing in the morning, no matter what occasion, you needed her amazing whiskey every time you woke up.

- James would offer his hand and you’d gladly accept it, he kissed the back of your hand before leading you to the bar hand in hand like an olden day couple.

- You’d then gossip about Liz’s love life while drinking the liquor, until you wanted to do the first Christmas activity on your list.

- Drinking eggnog and decorating your room with fairy lights, tinsel and a small Christmas tree. James has never heard of what eggnog was and thought it was absurd until he tried it and gave in that it was delicious.

- Iris provided the decorations from the back storage, you and James started making the room more joyful and welcoming with all the lights and tinsel. 

-  You both had a glass of eggnog in one hand as you put up the decorations, taking a sip once in a while. James would get some on his moustache making you giggle, he had double the moustache now. 

- After making the room all cosy, you brought out the next activity to keep you both busy before the sun sets.

- Making ugly Christmas sweaters, you bought two plain black sweaters and had some glitter and funfetti to glamour it up 

- James would just end up painting blood dripping with some tinsel tracing around it, for someone like James, it was pretty impressive. You on the other hand decided to goof around a little. On the front you stuck some letters with glue, it said ‘ Y/n is the best wife I could ever ask for! ‘. You made him wear it the whole day of today no matter where he went, that had to be his choice of clothing ( mwahahahaha 😈 )

- To end the night off, you just watched a simple Christmas movie with hot chocolate. Until midway of the movie you had one more surprise for James. “ Love, close your eyes, I have something I want to surprise you with. “ You smiled excitedly. “ Dearest this better not be one of those pranks you call. “ James shook his head. You assured him it wasn’t and he trusted you, closing his eyes. Leaving the bed, you went and grabbed a mistletoe. Climbing back up to the warm bed and holding up the plant above the two of you.

- “ Alright open your eyes “. James nervously opened them and was relieved to only see an innocent mistletoe above them. But he was confused on why you were just holding up the leaf, clearly the 90s didn’t do this. “ We kiss under the mistletoe James! Now where’s my smooch “ You puckered up your lips in a funny manner till he pulled you in, shocking you at how rough he was. James sucks and passionately kissed you, but with him you knew this type of kiss never ended innocently as it should.

- Mhmmm end the Christmas day with some smegxy heated time 😜

Kai Anderson : 

- He would usually be too busy with planning on his world domination so he’d just buy you an advent calendar to keep you occupied once a day.

- Though if you are lucky and something big he planned was successful, he’d bring you out to celebrate Christmas.

- You’d want to go ice skating with him, but of course he didn’t like bringing you out into the public. So he’d find a frozen lake and buy you some skates. He himself wouldn’t participant in that so he just sits down there and admired you having fun.

- Kai would think that is enough outing for the day and brings you back into his house. Though you did continue having fun, he even agreed to play scrabble with you. Kai actually looked like he was having true fun, away from all the psychoticness and back into his normal self. And you liked that, but it’s of course not going to last.

-  He brought you to visit his parents, especially to wish his mother a Merry Christmas.

- Kai unexpectedly got a little emotional while talking to her mother so you thought it was best to give him space. So you went to hang out with Winter while Kai was doing his business. 

- You and Winter would just sit on her bed as you both gossiped about her new fling. She was your long lost sister you’ve always craved for, you could tell her all your thoughts and she would respectfully listen. 

- She even got you a present in celebration of Christmas, sadly you couldn’t get her anything because you were always forced to be stuck in this house.

- Tearing open the paper, you reached the gift. God Winter got your old phone back! Kai confiscated it saying the internet rots your brains, and you thought that was the last you’d seen of it. Who knew Winter would recover your phone back, you missed it dearly.

- Shoot you’d definitely have to hide this from Kai, if he found out he’d kill Winter. That’s not happening under your watch though. Someone knocked on the door and you quickly hid the phone away, seeing that it was Kai.

- “ Come Y/n let’s go watch a movie in the basement. “ A movie!? This day couldn’t get any better. Giving Winter one last hug before following Kai out the door and down the basement.

- He switched on a horror show and snuggled up with you on the couch with fluffy blankets.

- You could definitely get used to this.

god i’m sorry if this was bad :,) 

[gatheringfiki]

The following ficlet was written by @lazysaturdayonthebeach based on this photoset.

Fili/Kili, Rating TBC.

You might also be able to read this story on AO3.

If you’ve enjoyed this story, please leave a comment either in replies or on AO3. :)

---

Kili took the news solemnly. The jump gate was down for repairs and no one wanted to work on Christmas Eve.

Fili made him his favorite coffee with eggnog, a cinnamon stick, and a large swirl of whipped cream, but even that didn’t earn him a smile. He wrapped the younger man in his favorite blanket and let him stare out the window morosely until he was ready to talk.

On his way back to the cockpit, he adjusted the heat in his sleek black flight suit. It was getting a bit chilly in their little shuttle. The environmental systems were conserving power. They carried extra provisions and fuel, but a one week journey stretched to almost three weeks challenged their reserves.

Their delivery mission to Ceti Alpha 5 was supposed to be a seven day round trip. If things had gone as planned, they would have been home a whole week before Christmas to make cookies, wrap presents, decorate, watch the pageants and parades, and drink coffee with eggnog to their hearts’ content. Instead, they had been stuck in orbit while a huge sandstorm raged for four days. They spent the next three days helping with rescue efforts before finally making their delivery on the twenty-first. If they were very lucky, they might make it home for New Year’s Eve Eve with enough power to stay comfortable.

More importantly, they were running out of the food Bilbo had packed and forced to eat their emergency rations. There was no danger of going hungry, but the prospect of potato soup for Christmas dinner was depressing. At home, there would be roast beast, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, macaroni and cheese, deviled eggs, sweet potatoes, and stuffed mushrooms. And that didn’t include all the potluck desserts like bread pudding, fruitcake, rum balls, gingerbread dwarves, rice pudding, chocolate chip cookies, pecan crescents, and spritz cookies that guests would bring.

Fili slumped into the pilot seat and distracted his stomach with the thought of the silver hair clasp he had made for Kili. No braids ever stayed in his wild luxurious mane, but a well-crafted clasp could keep it under just enough control to be respectable for important outings. Not that Kili cared about that, or the gift. He would be just as happy with an ugly Christmas sweater as a mithril archery glove. Had he seen Ori knitting sweaters for everyone this year? He rubbed his brow and hoped Ori would use a color found in nature. Maybe he could suggest a rainbow set for the family Christmas picture for next year. He giggled at the image.

What did he have here that he could fashion into a gift? It’s not the gift but the giving that was important. Surely he could think of something. Not for the first time, Fili wished he was better at origami. He really didn’t think a cup or a hat would work though. Could he write a poem? No. Cookies! They had oatmeal. Surely he could make something. He grabbed his tablet and started searching for a recipe that might work.

After half an hour of changing search parameters to be more and more specific, he found a recipe for banana oatmeal cookies with walnuts. He was ecstatic! Two ripe bananas, a cup of oatmeal and some walnuts was all he needed. Mix ‘em, scoop ‘em, bake ‘em in a pan for fifteen minutes at 350 degrees. Fili practically skipped off to the tiny galley to hide the bananas before Kili had the same idea.

Kili, meanwhile, had similar plans. Instead of cookies, however, he was crafting a virtual Christmas. Using the holographic navigation system, he loaded pictures of snowy lanes near their home where they went riding, reindeer, old Christmas pictures, ornaments they had made as children, pretty much everything Christmasy in the family cloud. If they couldn’t get home, he’d bring home to them.

Even with the last banana and a half safety hidden, an idea niggled Fili’s thoughts. While searching for snowball cookie recipes, Fili had stumbled across information about Rigel 7 and its current snowball glaciation. The residents there had moved into the oceans and used the currents to create a power supply. Nothing could stop the grinding of the glaciers, yet life was finding a way. They had a thriving tourist industry, too. Understandably, space was limited and reservations were mandatory. Still, it was within a day’s travel. Maybe they would take pity on a couple of stranded sailors at Christmas. He sent off a message and started working out the route. The navigation system was acting weird and slow. He sighed and wondered what else could go wrong.

Rigel Excursions Cooperative messaged Fili back within an hour. They did not have accommodations available, but they did have docking space and room for them on a Christmas Day tour. There was even a dinner reservation available. Screw the cookies! He was taking Kili to Rigel 7. Gimli would be so jealous.

While Fili excitedly confirmed details with REC, every scrap of non-essential paper onboard was rapidly becoming paper chains and snowflakes in Kili’s careful hands. There wasn’t much, but by making them thin and small, he was able to create enough to decorate the small living space. The shuttle was really just a studio apartment with a cockpit, an observation port, and a tiny engine room.

Humming from the galley drew Kili’s attention. Fili was making two mugs of coffee with the last of the eggnog. What was he thinking? Kili was saving that for tomorrow’s celebration. Before he could complain, Fili pulled him into a tight hug.

Over their coffees, Fili explained the trip to Rigel 7. If they had to have Christmas alone, they might as well do it in style and have a great story to tell when they got home. He finally got to see the smile Kili had been hiding all day and reveled in the joy.

Christmas morning started with snow blanketing their viewscreen. They really didn’t have the proper clothing for the tour, so they opted to wear their flight suits under their slacks, shirts, sweaters, and jackets. The tour vehicle would be heated, of course, but neither of them was taking any chances with the health and safety of the other. They bought hats in the gift shop and grinned at each other from under knitted snowballs.

Kili plastered himself against the window for the entire trip. Fili leaned against him, watching the scenery and Kili. Besides the pristine expanse of endless snow where wooly mammals made occasional appearances, they also toured some of the underwater facilities. The variety of fish, cephalopods, jellyfish, and even some cetaceans was astounding.

On the way to their dinner reservation, Kili ordered a dozen more hats boxed up as souvenirs for the family. The clerk even offered to wrap them. He was definitely getting a picture of the whole family in those.

Their Christmas meal turned out to be at the finest restaurant in the resort. The buffet was huge. Diners in holiday dress mingled as they refilled their plates with wild-caught seafood, fruits and vegetables from the resort’s underwater greenhouses, pasta dishes, pastries, and even ice cream. They were so full that by the time they got back to their shuttle, they fell into bed and a sound sleep.

When Fili woke, Kili had strung the decorations and had the hologram running. It was almost like being home, minus the over excited children screaming and running everywhere. Indeed, the first thing they heard when they used the Rigel communications link to call home was screaming children. Bombur’s brood seemed to be using Bombur and Dwalin as steeds to race around the room.

They laughed and chatted for many minutes. They reassured Bilbo that they has purchased several excursion baskets from the resort caterer and would eat well on the trip home. As soon as the gate opened, they would be home in three days. Thorin promised that the family would host Second Christmas as soon as they arrived. Most of the presents under the tree, except for the children’s, were awaiting their arrival. Christmas just wasn’t Christmas with them missing. Everyone teared up and the call ended before any actual tears started to flow.

Kili bumped his shoulder into Fili. “What now?”

“Want to eat all the cookies and go back to bed until we get the call for our turn at the gate?” Fili suggested. Both giggled and started digging through the food boxes.

They did make it home for New Year’s Eve Eve. The party lasted three days.

[quill-pen]

Personally, I hate Valentine's Day for a variety of reasons, but I know Bess likes it. So let's think about her today with...

💌Valentines Through the Eras; A Timeless Scroogeverse Reminiscing

💝George Era:

Bess loves Valentine's, but not when it comes to celebrating it in school. The kindergarten Valentine's Day party completely ruined that for her when all her classmates tore up and threw her Powerpuff Girl themed Valentine cards away while laughing in her face.

Then of course she opened her own to find them all defaced with graffiti insulting her. Barbie in scribbled on facial hair and stink-lines telling her she smelled. Bratz with huge freckles, declaring how ugly she was. My Little Pony characters saying they didn't want to be her friends. Power Rangers, Spider-Man, and TMNT all boasting altered messages about how dumb, gross, and weird she was, and wishing her a bad Valentine's.

Along with the Valentine's were crumbled cookies, broken and ruined toys, half-eaten, sticky candies. Her Valentine's box was defaced with scribbled artwork of a large, brown smudge, labelled as "pOOp", as if she couldn't guess what it was meant to be.

Bess went home in tears that day, ruined box and all its contents in hand to show her mother proof of how mean her class was to her. Bea never believed her when Bess reported bullying stories to her. She didn't believe Bess even with the evidence. Or if she did, she didn't care, just like always.

It wasn't until George came over that night to take Bea out for supper and saw Bess' puffy eyes, tear-stained face, and the box that Bess received any sort of comfort: a promise that they would get a Valentine's Day do-over tomorrow, just the two of them.

And he held true to that promise, picking her up early and taking the little girl out for a special breakfast of any-flavored, heart-shaped pancakes. He gave her a big Valentine in the shape of the stuffed horse she'd had her eye on for a long while. He took her to the zoo and to the children's museum where he played with her. He took her shopping to get whatever she wanted: a new Barbie and a couple Barbie playsets, one big and one small. He showered her with affection and words of affirmation, telling her how pretty, nice, smart, funny, sweet, etc. she was.

George let his little Mudpuppy know she was loved, special, and wanted. He let her know she mattered, and she deserved to be treated with kindness.

From that Valentine's on, George always made sure he was around to help Bess play hooky on the day of the class party and take her out on the town to treat her.

Bess never knew what happened to her Valentine's boxes or Valentine's afterward because they were always gone from the classroom the next day. But she didn't care. Valentine's Day dates with George were a million times better than anything she could have gotten from her classmates.

Eventually, unfortunately, due to many factors of life, those dates with George ground to a halt.

Of course, Bess was a bit sad, but she didn't mind all that much with little siblings to love on and receive love from in turn now as well as George.

And George always still managed to get her something and/or treat her to a meal.

But still, Bess wanted to have a tradition like those all-day Valentine's dates again with somebody. Maybe make them romantic this time around.

💝Oliver Era:

When Oliver came into the picture, Bess thought, for a very brief time, that this was something that could happen with him. After all, they were officially a couple. Even if it wasn't a full day of celebration, even just a nice evening dedicated solely to them and their relationship, would have been amazing.

Bess quickly learned better on that first Valentine's Day of their relationship.

Oliver took her to breakfast in the same greasy little cafe off campus that he always took her to when they decided to eat out for breakfast.

Bess had never been a particularly picky person when it came to food or where she ate, but this place never failed to turn her stomach sour with anything she ate there. Oliver knew that, but always insisted on them going there anyway: It was "his spot" where he knew everything, everyone, and had "never had a bad meal". Bess begged to differ.

Knowing making a fuss would only upset Oliver and put him in a terrible mood the rest of the day, Bess endured, thinking maybe she could just have some yogurt with fruit and a coffee (that she'd turn to syrup with sugar to try and choke it down).

Oliver immediately changed that plan by insisting her order for her. "It's Valentine's Day, after all," he pointed out. "Let me treat my little woman." His smile was probably meant to be sweet, but it felt belittling and mocking.

Bess knew she should have felt anything other than the dread she did.

Her stomach was already churning by the time the waiter walked away with their order, both at the thought of the food coming her way and the way Oliver had kept referring to her as his "little woman". But that was true, wasn't it? She was his girlfriend. Why did it make her skin crawl?

"You do have money with you, right?" Oliver asked expectantly.

"I thought you were treating me."

"I did. I drove you here and ordered for you. And I'll cover the tip if you want."

Bess sighed and rolled her eyes, but made no further comment. They'd hardly been together six months, and she was already exhausted and exasperated with this boy. But nothing was ever perfect, right? Every relationship had its ups and downs and flaws. This relationship just needed some work.

After a breakfast of burnt bacon, undercooked omelettes, and half-raw hashbrowns dripping with grease that smells like fish, Oliver took her to class, promising something extra special that night. For some reason, Bess didn't feel so enthusiastic. Her already lacking enthusiasm drops even lower when Oliver refused to kiss her goodbye: "People are watching, Specks."

Unsurprisingly, it was right for Bess to feel wary of the night's activities: Oliver's "extra special" night was just inviting her over to his dorm to have a movie night with his buddies.

The movies? A marathon of bad, Valentine's-themed b-movies. All of them horror--Bess' least favorite genre. She had to walk out about 15 minutes into the second film (a Valentine's rip-off of the Halloween franchise with more gratuitous debauchery and a Michael Meyers stand-in dressed like Cupid... who still wore the weird mask for some reason?). Oliver didn't even realize she left--none of the guys did.

Bess went home and ended Valentine's Day alone (Debbie was out with her boyfriend) with no flowers, treats, cards, or even so much as a Valentine's text from her boyfriend. She quietly cried herself to sleep from the disappointment.

The years went by with Oliver and Valentine's Days never got better. Even when Bess tried to make something out of the day, it ended up being a complete disaster as something was never right according to Oliver.

Eventually, Bess just gave up on her dream of ever having a romantic Valentine's Day. Or a romantic anything, honestly. Perhaps romance just wasn't in her cards; maybe she didn't get to be swept off her feet and treated like a queen. After all, no one gets everything they want. "But I hardly ever get anything I want."

Their last Valentine's Day together wasn't even acknowledged. Admittedly, Bess waited all day to see if Oliver would make any sort of comment about how she didn't get him something, as she always went out of her way to get him a little gift or treat for the holiday, even when he never did for her. He never did.

What he did do, however, was "complain" to her about how he'd kept getting handed Valentine's and secret notes from bridal party members and wedding guests from the wedding he'd been second shooter at all day. "I just couldn't believe it--all these total babes just handing over stuff like that to me! I mean, I was all like, 'Ladies, please! I'm a professional at work here. Not that I'm not flattered, but I gotta concentrate on my art here. I don't have time for hookups in the storage closet." "Also you're kinda, ya know, engaged." "Hmm? Oh, yeah, right, whatever."

Bess gave up any hopes of ever feeling happy or truly loved in this relationship.

💝Gal Pals Era:

The first Valentine's in London was rough. Not only was Bess far away from home and family (that she knew well), she was also working.

Being kept busy in the maternity ward did help take her mind off of things, however, and there were a few beautiful little babies born that night. So Bess couldn't claim the holiday as bad one. (Though she did have to talk a father down from naming his son 'Valentine' as the mother was too out of it after surgery to do it herself but had made it clear on previous visits that she did not want that to be the child's name.)

That second time around though, was a much different story.

By the second London's Valentine's Bess, Connie, Addie, and Gal had all found each other, and the 1843D girls had bonded together tighter than a Gordian knot. They were bound to make the most of that bond.

Undeterred by the lack of beaus in their lives, the girls took it upon themselves to turn their first Valentine's all together into a celebration to be remembered.

"A Galentine's!" Connie had exclaimed one morning out of the blue. She'd come running from the bathroom with toothbrush in hand and frothy, minty lips. "Let's have a Galentine's! We'll all dress up for each other and go out together!"

The idea was a perfect one, and plans were immediately put into play. Bookings were made, new outfits were purchased, and work shifts were made sure to be filled in.

The evening of, after spending the afternoon sequestered away in rooms at the Dowager Countess of Calloway's (better known as Granny FeFe's) townhouse, readying themselves, all four girls presented themselves to both FeFe and their beloved landlord and surrogate grandfather Michael Pippersnipe, making grand entrances down the grand staircase of the Dowager's front hall.

According to FeFe and Pippersnipe, they had never seen more beautiful young ladies in all of their long years.

It was clear to see, they were being anything but facetious.

London has never known such celebration of sisterhood until that night. All four girls ate and drank their fill, danced and sang to their heart's content, celebrated both themselves and each other.

"A toast!" Addie declared at some time in the night, dashing a champagne glass to the heavens as though it were a golden chalice claimed in victory. Perhaps it was far greater than that.

"A toast to the bonds of sisterhood and friendship! Such loves are often overlooked and underestimated to be lesser than most. But it's been made clear to me in this year of trials and tribulations, of ending the old and beginning the new, that sisterhood and friendship are some of the most powerful and wonderful bonds the world has to offer. After all, what is a friend? A single soul, dwelling in two bodies."

"Aristotle," Connie remarked with a soft smile.

Gal chortled: "'n' t'at's why she be t'e writer."

Smirking, Bess stood and raised her glass as she began reciting: "I'll be there for you when the rain starts to pour. I'll be there for you, like I've been there before. I'll be there for you, 'cuz you're there for me too."

She cast a goofy smile around the table. "The 'Friends' theme song."

The table broke into fits of giggles and good natured groans at that. And then everyone was raising their glasses in toast. "To sisterhood!" The sound of crystal glass clinking together tinkled out through the night.

A night made for lovers and romance taken over by the love and joy of found family.

It was truly a Valentine's never to be forgotten.

And I think we're going to stop it here because, I know me, and I know when I dive into the Wolf era it is likely to get long and graphic.😅. So we'll just wait on that, and keep this cute and wholesome for now!

@rom-e-o I will probably dive in at some point to actually turn Galentine's into a fleshed out ficlet at some point, so if you want to add ideas, go right ahead.☺️

[stardropsandrain]

Do you got anymore obey me with trans reader/mc hc or anything like that? Really liked that Lucifer one a lot and would love to see other characters.

Beelzebub HC w/ trans masc MC

TW!!; Mentions of dysphoria, l-bomb, overbinding, period

Warning; Pre surgery and pre t

Please do enjoy

I have to start with dysphoria because this demon is pro at doing everything to try and make you feel better

Brings you your favourite food and lets you steal any shirts, hoodies, etc you want, as long as he gets to steal one of yours back.

Calls you pretty/handsome/lovely etc and gives you all the adoration and love he can

"You're so lovely," A kiss on the nose "I love you."

There's no way you'd be able to over bind with this demon around. You'll get home and he'll immediately coax you out of it

"I'll give you a cookie if you take it off," He'll offer, taking a bite of his offering right after. But how can you deny that face. He'll help you get comfortable and make some snacks

Having a really bad dysphoria day? He's at your beck and call. Anything you need he's there

You've been in your bed all day, ugly intrusive thoughts and lack of motivation keeping you there "Bee can you grab me a water pl-" he's already gone and comes back with two water bottles and a glass of ice all he wants in return is maybe a kiss but he's happy to do it for free

"Bee, can I have a hug?" Oh my gods this man would SMOTHER you "Of course!" And now your trapped in the most bone crushing, heart filling hug ever. What dysphoria? All that's on your mind is this amazing demon (that's a joke I know how bad dysphoria is)

He'll tell anything you want to hear as well. "You're amazing, I love you so much. I know how hard this is but if anyone can make it, you can handsome." Literally has you melting into a puddle of goo in bed

He also has food relating nicknames and pet names. "Hey cupcake," He'll mumbled into your chest, if you allow him to rest there, if not, your stomach while cuddling "I like your cologne."

You call him Bee, Beez, Beebs, Zebby and the normal assortment of love, honey and dear. And a few food themed ones too, but usually they joke names

"Hey frosted flakes," You'll greet Beelzebub as he enters the kitchen. He'll pout and huff "Cupcake that name is stupid..."

He loves cuddles, he loves nuzzling into your stomach if you don't like him on you chest, which he understands completely

If you're on your period he has a burger themed heated bead pillow for your stomach, craving foods at the ready, and lots of affirmations and kisses

Now he definitely struggles, but he does leave you alone if you ask "Beez, I need some alone time." "oh..., okay," He'll be sad, but perk up to not make you feel bad "That's okay! Take as long as you need!" And be on his way. But he'll sulk around when his brother see him "Whats wrong with him," Satan asked Belphegor while Beelzebub sat over a tub of ice cream with a frown "His 'cupcake' asked for some alone time and he's sad."

When you have had enough cool down, or just alone, time and he comes back he immediately "I love you, that was agony," He'll wine and kiss all over your face "are you feeling better?" You'll laugh and kiss his forehead before nodding "Thank you for being understanding Beez."

A/N; I literally love Bee writing for him is so easy he's such a sweetheart. I love doing requests too, so thank you so much anon for requesting!!

Good riddance and stay safe 🖤🖤🖤

[indigo-corvus]

Banana Splits Christmas Headcanons, GO! Spew em’ out! Even if it’s the eve of christmas- but oh well- I’ll reblog your respose with my silly ol’ headcanons in return in the tags.

*CRACKS KNUCKLES* Here we go!

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

- The Splits always decorate the clubhouse a day or two after Thanksgiving (depending on how full they are)

-Fleegle, (naturally) takes the lead in decorating, deciding where and when things should be hung.

-Fleegle and Snorky make sure no corner goes undecorated! There's tinsel and garlands everywhere, bows above every window, etc.

-Snorky loves all of the lights, and will sometimes sleep in the main room of the clubhouse to watch them blink as he drifts off to sleep.

-Bingo on the other hand, loves the decorations, but Hates being the one to put them up. He just likes putting the star up on the tree and then marveling at "all his hard work".

-The caroling begins literally the second the star lights up, and doesn't stop until January.

-It's mostly Snorky, Drooper, and Fleegle that do it All Day Every Day, but if he is in the room, Bingo will often be persuaded to join in. Their harmony is amazing, since they're so used to singing/recording together!

-Fleegle likes to read The Night Before Christmas to everyone on the 24th. He sits in the armchair and they all gather 'round.

-Bingo watches The Nightmare Before Christmas every year, even though Fleegle INSISTS it's a Halloween movie only. This "fight" happens Every Year. (It's more like a silly back and forth)

-Snorky goes Full Baking Mode, and pumps out 2 dozen cookies every other day. (He knows that the gang can't resist his famous snickerdoodles and decorated sugar cookies)

- Sometimes the boys help him out with the cookie decorating and turn it into a party! (It's always a good time with the Splits around!)

-Drooper is always extra careful with his tail this time of year! He doesn't want it to be confused for a garland, or to mess up any of the decorations they worked so hard on.

-Bingo makes The Best eggnog ever! (Family recipe!) It's spiced and creamy, and it's always gone the same day he makes it. (Sometimes he adds a little bit of rum to his nog when nobody's looking!)

-Drooper loves the old school Rankin Bass Christmas specials! His favorite is the Rudolph and he likes the Burl Ives snowman.

-Snorky loves hosting ugly Christmas sweater parties! He makes his own sweater every year. :)

-Fleegle is a very practical gift giver! He will gift something he knows will be useful, that is related to the gang's interests. (Paintbrush sets, cameras, etc)

-Snorky is a sentimental gifter! He will give a picture of everyone hanging out in a really pretty frame, a scrapbook, or something else that has a lot of meaning behind it, with a very heartfelt letter of friendship.

-Bingo is a silly gift giver, and will often get gag gifts followed by an actual gift. Snakes in a fake peanut brittle can with a nice quality sweater, 6 individually wrapped copies of Space Jam with a movie that one of them actually wants to see, one soap that smells like buttered popcorn and one that smells like honey or whatever.

-Drooper is all about the music, and will gift an instrument that the other hasn't tried to play yet. (Hard to do, since they are all fabulous musicians and try new instruments all the time!)

-Snorky and Drooper are the gift wrappers. Fleegle and Bingo are just terrible at it lol. Fleegle over complicates the wrapping, and Bingo is a very messy present wrapper lol.

-Every year they leave out a plate of milk and cookies, and every year, Ogre sneaks out and eats them. The gang always thinks it's Santa.

Happy holidays everyone! Happy Yule, Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, etc!

May your next year be merry and bright!

[artisticbunny]

I wrote a thing for a writing contest minigame for the DCASS discord!!!

It's just a silly little thing and it's not super long but I thought I'd share on here now that the voting is over :3

One shot under cut!!! :D

You were making cookies. It was a winter holiday staple, so of course you absolutely had to.

Your house was quiet, save for the music playing from your phone in the other room and your own quiet singing along with it.

You lived alone, and had been for a while. You'd occasionally see your friends and family, but they all lived pretty far away.

Not to mention your tendency to self-isolate.

Despite this, you were pretty lonely. The baking was helping to distract you, though, so that's what you decided to focus on.

That's how it started, anyway.

You made all sorts of cookies- chocolate chip, peanut butter blossoms, snickerdoodles… and gingerbread.

You'd just started decorating them when you got a call on the cellphone from the room over.

You'd only left the kitchen for a second. What could've possibly gone wrong?

A lot, apparently.

The two gingerbread cookies you just finished were missing from the plate you just put them on. There were a few crumbs on the table next to it, but other than that, they'd vanished without a trace.

Confused, you look around the kitchen.

You didn't have any pets that would be able to steal food from the counter… Did you eat them absent-mindedly?

You didn't have the lingering taste of gingerbread or icing on your tongue.

Where could they have gone?

The only two gingerbread men you cut out have suddenly disappeared, leaving you only little trees, stars, snowflakes, and candy canes.

Honestly, you were quite upset.

You were really proud of how those came out, and you at least wanted a picture of them before anything happened to them.

You made them celestial themed, something you naturally found yourself drawn to. You thought it would be cute to have them be opposites. One themed after the sun, and one themed after the moon.

You used some leftover candy corn from Halloween as little sun rays, and made a little blue Santa hat for the moon themed one with icing and tiny marshmallows like the ones you could find in hot chocolate packets. It looked far too plain without it.

Not that it really mattered now, you thought.

You sighed.

They were so cute, you really wished you could have gotten that picture.

You picked up your red piping bag and started finishing the candy cane cookie you started before you got that call.

You started slowly laying down the outline of the next red stripe. Slow and steady for a smooth line.

Until you were startled by a spoon falling off the table behind you.

The red icing bled a little too far into the white, ruining the effect of a swirling red pattern around the cookie and leaving behind an ugly splotch.

“Man-”

As you went to pick up the spoon you caught a glimpse of something orange dart behind one of the containers you had out.

What was that?

You peeked behind the Tupperware only to find your two gingerbread men.

Standing.

Staring back at you.

It felt like your brain short circuited. You could not come up with any response, not to mention a coherent one.

What. Was going on.

The moon themed one stepped forward in front of the other protectively.

It held a brave face, but you could tell it was trembling.

“Where are we? What do you want with us?”

It could speak!?

“..I- you… you're in my house… you're a cookie.” You stated, a little unsure if this was reality.

It looked down at itself and back up to you.

“...A cookie?”

“They're… you're a sweet food that people eat-”

Both of their little frosting eyes widened at that.

“You're gonna eat us!?” Screeched the sun-themed one.

“What!? No! I mean not now,” you ran your fingers through your hair, “I didn't know you were alive.”

Were the other cookies alive? How many lives did you start and end just because you were craving a sweet treat?

The cookies shared a glance between each other.

You sigh,

“Ok. Come here.” You stick your hand out for them.

“I won't hurt you, I promise.”

It took a second for either of them to move at first, but the sun one took a tentative step forward.

“If you aren't going to eat us… then what are you going to do with us?”

“Probably try to figure out how this happened so I don't accidentally do this again, but other than that, I have no clue.”

It (he?) hesitated before stepping lightly onto your palm. He was still a little warm from the oven.

“Are you going to get rid of us?” He asked as you lifted your hand from the table, setting the other near the moon one. He shied away slightly with a growl.

“I… don't know. I don't really know anything about what's going on or why or how you're alive or how to keep you that way. Like… do you eat? Will you get stale? Can you get sick?”

You thought for a second.

“I… might like it if you two stayed, though. And I don't know what would happen to you if I kicked you out.” You grimaced at the thought.

“Why do you even care what happens to us? You literally were going to eat us before.” The moon one remarked snarkily.

“I literally did not know you were alive or even could be alive before. Besides… it might be nice to have someone else around the house.”

He glared at you suspiciously as the sun one leaned forward in interest.

“You'd let us stay?”

“...I might�� but we have to figure this thing out together. You guys gotta tell me what you need when you need it. I don't want you hiding something from me and getting hurt over it, alright?”

The sun one turned to the moon one, who stared back for a moment before relenting.

“Fine. But try anything funny and you won't like what happens next.”

“Deal.” You smiled.

You turned back to your piles of other, probably non-sapient cookies.

Would it be rude or insulting to eat these now? Would it even be morally correct?

“So like… what am I supposed to do with all of these?”

[littleperilstories]

Fen & Freddie: Wherever You Find Love, It Feels Like Christmas

Warnings: a few references to the events of Whumptober's Fen & Freddie, like Fredde's hand getting impaled and Fen being kidnapped and tortured; difficult parental relationship; lying about going to therapy; implied ptsd; weird government shenanigans/getting a tracking implant. honestly it's not really whumpy unless you count Bridget angsting all over the place.

Less serious warning: I wrote this pretty fast and didn't do a whole lot of editing. I've no doubt there are typos and bad sentences. 😂 Enjoy!

Fen & Freddie Masterlist

Word count: 3543 || Approx reading time: 14 mins

Teaser: Bridget hadn’t always hated the holiday season. No, this was a relatively recent phenomenon, born last year—an awful Christmas, the worst she’d ever had and would ever have, she was certain. The one that fell only a month and a half after Fen and her boyfriend got out of the hospital, still trying to recover from everything Kain Brockhurst had done to them.

Bridget pressed her face into the steering wheel, groaning into the metal logo in its centre. The metal letters dug into her forehead, cool and sharp.

Get me off this highway.

Of course she was here, of all places. Of course she was living out the second-worst of holiday clichés: being stuck in gridlocked traffic, crawling along a four-lane highway at a snail’s pace, with no relief or accessible off-ramps in sight.

The only thing she could see to be grateful for was that it wasn’t snowing.

Wailing in frustration as the radio blared the fourth rendition of “Winter Wonderland” she’d heard in her hour-and-a-half -and-still-counting drive, she turned the volume to its lowest level and felt around on the cluttered passenger seat for her phone. Using the device while driving was, of course, illegal, but the car barely counted as “in motion,” and if she had to listen to one more a capella, glee-club style cover of a Christmas song, she was going to purposely ram her car into the one in front of her.

Once her blissfully un-festive playlist was blasting through the speakers, Bridget heaved a sigh of relief.

She hadn’t always hated the holiday season. No, this was a relatively recent phenomenon, born last year—an awful Christmas, the worst she’d ever had and would ever have, she was certain. The one that fell only a month and a half after Fen and her boyfriend got out of the hospital, still trying to recover from everything Kain Brockhurst had done to them.

Fen, her gorgeous, sweet, kind-hearted, innocent sister.

Freddie, the adorable if dopey love-struck idiot who’d gone running after her and nearly died for his courage.

Bridget could only assume last Christmas had been more of a nightmare for them than it had been for her, but she couldn’t know for sure. How would she? Her mother had told her, in no uncertain terms, that she wasn’t welcome in their house for the holiday. Or, in fact, any other day.

Bridget had been entirely prepared for another Christmas alone—no Fen, no Starr, no nothing—but this year, her sister had intervened.

You’re coming for dinner on the 25th, read a text that had lit up Bridget’s phone only a week ago. No ifs, ands, or buts. Bring cookies.

The message and its unspoken implication—I talked to Mom, and she said it’s okay for you to be here—had sent Bridget spiralling into sobs for a good half an hour. She’d been straight-up ugly crying: wailing sobs, face buried in a pillow, nose streaming in a slimy, hideous mess.

Now Bridget glanced at the stack of cookie boxes piled precariously on the back seat, emotions in check, at least for now. She’d meant to bake some treats from scratch, she really had. But that had been before the last-minute plans that had transpired in the days after Fen’s text. A secret encrypted message arrived in her email with a time and place,and she’d enjoyed a few days away from home with the friends who meant the most to her. Then, though, there had been the subsequent phone call from her federal agent, Donna, that resulted in a non-negotiable, unskippable appointment downtown. “I know it’s Christmas. And I don’t care. You missed a check-in, Bridget. You knew what the deal was, and you broke it. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Bridget’s gaze roamed from the baked goods to the fresh scar on her wrist, barely an inch long, and her stomach contracted.

Well, so what if Donna and the feds could always keep tabs on her, know where she was, for the rest of her life? They were already doing that, anyway. The little procedure yesterday had just made it more official.

But seeing Starr and Jeff for the first time in months had been worth it.

And being back at her parents’ house, seeing Fen smiling and happy and whole, that would be worth it, too. Worth the diabolical traffic, the trek across town—to multiple supermarkets—to buy cookies, the thirty-minute-plus waits in line.

And whatever frosty glare her mom threw at her from across the room, or whatever argument born of blame and bitterness she started over the dinner table—the number one winner for terrible Christmas clichés—seeing Fen smile would be worth that, too.

~~~

Darkness already blanketed the street when Bridget pulled into the driveway behind her mom’s grey SUV. She sucked in a breath as she stepped out, stretching her cramped muscles, and stole a glance toward the yellow glow seeping from behind the curtains. Was everyone already inside and waiting for her? What was the reaction going to be like once she walked through the door? Fen and her dad, she usually saw about once a month. Freddie, only in the pictures Fen posted online. Her mom…

The incision spot on her wrist twinged in protest as she rubbed it nervously. What was she afraid of? What was the worst her mom could do to her? If anyone hurled a turkey leg or a gravy boat at her, what did it matter? One, she’d heal the bump or burn away in no time. Two, she deserved it.

Balancing the mountain of cookie boxes in her arms, Bridget dragged her feet up to the front door and hesitated. Moment of truth…

Before she could knock, Fen whipped the door open.

“You made it!”

Suddenly, Bridget was inside the foyer, her arms were relieved of their burden of baked goods, and Fen was wrapping her in a hug.

“Yeah!” Bridget cringed. She’d meant to sound bright and enthusiastic. Instead, the word came out sounding like she had a severe stomachache and desperately needed the bathroom.

Whispering in her ear, Fen said, “I know you’d still be standing out there if I hadn’t opened the door. Don’t be nervous. It’s gonna be fine.”

The reassurance did not quite have its intended effect; it made Bridget want to throw up. How utterly backwards it seemed for Fen to be comforting her.

“Okay.” Needing to change the subject, Bridget inspected her sister once they’d pulled apart. “You look nice.”

Fen grinned. “I found the sweater secondhand with the tags still on! Can you believe it?” She did a twirl to show off her outfit. She’d gone for an understated Christmas look: a deep, pine-green knit sweater with gold sequined details; a pair of skinny jeans she’d had since high school and which, infuriatingly, still looked incredible; gold stud earrings; and a satin headband printed with gingerbread houses. Bridget was keenly aware of, and a little embarrassed by, the baggy Christmas sweater, patterned with faded candy canes and reindeer, that she’d dug out of a box under her bed that morning before she hit the road. No amount of fabric freshener had been able to quite banish the musty smell clinging to the wool.

“I feel a little underdressed.” A flush crept into her cheeks as soon as the words left her mouth. Had she really said that? Was that really what she was going to complain about? What was wrong with her?

“Don’t be silly.” Fen rolled her eyes. “Freddie matches you. He’s wearing an ugly Christmas sweater, too.”

As if on cue, a figure appeared at the top of the stairs. “Hi, Bridget. M-Merry Christmas.”

Well, there was no enthusiasm in Freddie’s tone. His green eyes were serious. But there didn’t seem to be much bitterness in his face, either. And while the smile he gave her was small—it was still a smile.

It was ridiculous how happy Bridget was to see the enormous snowman splashed across his chest. A stupid amount of relief that she wasn’t the only one wearing a goofy sweater. God, why do I even care? “Hey, Freddie. Nice sweater. Merry Christmas.”

She had to concentrate on that garish snowman, because if she didn't, she’d stare at his hand—once shattered by Kain Brockhurst and then reconstructed by Bridget’s own healing gift—or his face, surely haunted by the horrors Kain had put him through.

“I can take these to the kitchen,” he said, descending the stairs to retrieve the stack of boxes. “See you in a minute.”

Bridget waited until he’d disappeared to speak. “If it’s going to be awkward, I can go. I—I get it.”

Fen grabbed her hand. “Bridget.”

Tears were already prickling the back of Bridget’s eyes, and Fen hadn’t even said anything yet.

“I want you here.”

Bridget squeezed her eyes closed. What had she done to deserve a sister like Fen? Nothing. “You shouldn’t, though. And I know Mom doesn’t. Not really.”

How Fen had found it in her heart to forgive her for what had happened was beyond her understanding. If Bridget had never stolen Kain’s formula, then he never would have kidnapped and tortured her sister. If she’d kept a better eye on Freddie, he never would have snuck out and gotten captured and nearly murdered—poisoned. And if she’d given up the formula as soon as Kain asked for it, or gone to the government earlier, then so much of their pain could have been avoided.

Yet here was Fen, gazing at her with sorrow in her eyes, but no blame. “B…” She choked on the old nickname. No one used it anymore. Not since Kain had ruined it for everyone. “Listen to me. I want you here.”

Bridget flung her arms around her sister. Why did it feel like her heart was cracking down the centre, when her sister was being nothing but kind? “I know. I’m sorry. I want to be here, too. I swear.”

“Good.” Fen wiped a tear from her own eye, sniffing dramatically. “You’re going to make me ruin my mascara. Then you’ll really be sorry.”

Bridget snorted. “When did you get so vain?”

Fen chuckled but didn’t answer. Bridget held onto her hand, not ready to let go of the moment. Not yet.

“Fen…” She swallowed. “Will you tell me, seriously? Are you doing okay?” It was a stupid question, a preposterous question. Maybe even a little disgusting that Bridget needed to ask when she should have just known. But Fen was back in school, and when they met up for brief coffee dates, they never talked about what had happened. Just about papers and exams and commutes and work and other awful, mundane things.

Fen’s gaze softened, turned distant, roving absently over the paintings on the foyer wall. “I… really am.”

Squeezing her sister’s fingers, Bridget said, “For real?”

With a gentle nod, Fen squeezed back. “It… I… It’s taken some time. It has. Taking the winter semester off last year… That was a good idea. I needed that, um, time. And rest. But it was also really good once I went back to school. All the papers keep me busy. I still have bad dreams sometimes, but..” She glanced up the stairs, at the space where Freddie had been standing. “I mean, I think he might have it harder. He still has nightmares, too. And the stutter comes back more often now. You remember when it was really strong in high school?” Bridget nodded. “And, you know, other stuff. He’s a little sad.”

As she finished speaking, a faintly stricken look crossed Fen’s face. “Don’t repeat any of that, okay? Like, I know it wasn’t… bad or anything… but don’t mention it. Please. I’m trusting you.”

“I promise,” Bridget said, halting a shudder as it attempted to travel down her body. Her gut was churning; she could only imagine the nightmares Freddie had been left with. “Is he talking to someone?”

Fen nodded. “We both are. We all are, actually.”

Bridget blinked. “Mom?”

“Yup.”

The thought of trying to explain the context—the comic-book-fodder drama—to someone unfamiliar with Kain Brockhurst and the lab that had turned him into what he was now made Bridget dizzy. The thought of their mother talking to a therapist nearly knocked her to the floor.

Fen raised her eyebrows. “Did you make any appointments yet?” She tapped her foot against the floor.

“In the New Year, actually.” Bridget kept her voice light, hoping Fen wouldn't detect the lie.

Her sister’s eyes narrowed, and Bridget knew she hadn’t gotten away with it, but Fen didn’t press the matter. “Good…” She paused. “Yeah. Good. Come on. Let’s go upstairs.”

Their dad was by the kitchen table, dancing along to “Jingle Bell Rock,” which seemed to be causing difficulties as he poured himself a glass of eggnog. Bridget smiled. The sloshing against the side of the glass and over its rim wasn’t deterring Dave Bailey from his dance at all.

“Hey, Dad,” Bridget said, giggling despite the knot in her stomach.

He nearly dropped the carton. “Bridget! I didn’t hear the door!” He flung his arms around her, pulling her in tight. “I’ve missed you, kiddo.”

I've missed you too, Dad.

“Don’t stay away so long next time.” He brushed a piece of hair out of her face, then grinned and gestured toward the eggnog. “You want some?”

Only if you’re adding some rum to it. She opted not to say that out loud.

“I’ll get you a glass,” Freddie said. He’d just reappeared, but he ducked away again, heading for the cupboard.

“Where’s Mom?” Bridget’s voice was flat, and she hated herself for it. Mrs. Fiona Song was nowhere to be seen.

“Oh… you know. Doing Christmas things. Running around.” Her dad accepted the glass Freddie handed him and began to pour.

Avoiding me.

“I have something for everyone,” Fen said before Bridget could accidentally verbalize her thought. “Ready?”

Even Freddie’s eyebrows drifted upwards. Apparently, whatever Fen was about to bring out, it was a surprise to him, too.

A grin swept across Bridget’s face as Fen grabbed a glittery, oversized red stocking that had been resting in a corner of the room. “Dad first!” From within, she pulled the ugliest, gaudiest Santa hat ever to exist, complete with a jingling bell at its tip.

Dave burst into laughter. “Wow! It’s what I’ve always wanted.” He accepted the gift with a flourish and tugged it over his ears, snorting when it just barely fit.

“Freddie next.” Fen’s cheeks pinkened as he crossed the room to stand next to her, his fingers grazing hers. He also received a Santa hat in his outstretched hand, this one bright green. Her next words were an almost-conspiratorial whisper, meant for him but audible to everyone. “It matches your eyes.”

Freddie’s face turned bright red as he leaned down to let Fen crown him with the ridiculous hat. “I love it.” He was smiling, though the flush still stained his skin all the way to his neck as he brushed his lips against Fen’s. “It’s p-perfect.”

Had it been anyone else, any other time, Bridget would have been rolling her eyes and pretending to gag. PDA, even when it was subtle, was so not her thing.

But with these two, it was hard to get annoyed.

Eyes alight, Fen turned to Bridget. “Your turn.” Excitement radiated from every inch of her, from her beaming face and bouncing feet. “Here you go!”

Bridget braced herself for her own Santa hat. What awful, hard-on-the-eyes colour had her sister chosen for her?

Her breath caught in her chest. It wasn’t a goofy hat that Fen pulled from her stocking. The gift in her hands was a satin headband, adorned with gingerbread houses—a perfect twin to the one she was wearing in her dark hair.

A lump grew in Bridget’s throat. “Thank… thank you.” Was she whispering? She hadn’t meant to. “It’s… It’s so….” She swallowed. “It matches yours.”

“Put it on!” Fen gave her a gentle nudge with her hip. “I wanna see what it looks like.”

With trembling fingers, Bridget tugged her hair out of its messy ponytail, gave it a half-hearted finger comb, and slipped the headband behind her ears. “I’m sure it looks cuter on you.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Fen said. “It looks awesome. Doesn’t it, Freddie?”

The corners of Freddie’s mouth quirked upward, and Bridget appreciated his answer even though it was clear what his true opinion was. “It looks great on b-both of you.”

Soft, slippered footsteps scritched across the floor in the hallway, heralding the arrival Bridget had been waiting for yet dreading. Every muscle in her body, relaxed and easy for a solid three and a half minutes, tensed again.

“Hi, Mom.” She’d forgotten to take the tag off the end of the headband, and it was cutting into her skin, stinging and itching at once. May as well be the one to make an effort. “Merry…”

God, she felt stupid, in this ridiculous Christmas sweater and this silly gingerbread headband, and it was hot in here, and when she glanced away, it was Freddie’s hand on her sister’s arm that caught her gaze, the shiny pinkish-white scar in the centre of his hand and the horrific memories that accompanied it—

“... Christmas.” Every drop of moisture was gone from her mouth.

Fiona stood in the doorway, still half in the hall. “Hi, Bridget.”

Bridget held her breath.

Slowly, as if she were approaching an undetonated mine, her mother inched closer. “Glad you made it safely.” A long pause. “How was traffic?”

Spinning, rumbling fractures rumbled beneath Bridget’s feet, resonating from the earth’s crust. This is really happening. She’s actually talking to me. Her mother wasn’t kicking her out. Wasn’t throwing a frying pan at her face. Wasn’t even shouting.

“It was, um, awful.” A nervous giggle slipped out of her, and the honest answer came out before she could think of something less true but more positive. “I thought I’d be on the highway forever.”

“Typical holiday traffic.” Her mother shifted her weight, shuffling in place for a few moments before she turned to the oven. “I should check the turkey.”

“Wait!” Fen bolted across the room. “You still need yours!”

“My what?” Their mom was stiff, her voice hard, but her gaze softened when she looked over at her younger daughter. Who, despite everything, was smiling. Laughing. Giving out silly gifts as if, a year ago, she hadn’t been bucking off the ropes of trauma that had tried so hard to tie her down.

“Your present, obviously.” Fen reached into her stocking and whipped out the last item. Bridget choked. It was the most ridiculous one of all.

“Oh, Fen, really?”

Fen ignored the weak protest in her mother’s voice and slipped the headband, decorated with sequined antlers, onto Fiona’s head. “You look beautiful.”

Bridget bit her lip, not sure if she wanted to laugh or cry, and waited for their mom to sigh and tug the antlers off. “They look good, Mom.”

“They’ll get in the way when I lean down to get the bird,” Fiona said, looking a little helpless.

“I’ll check it,” Freddie said, his voice quiet, his mouth still turned slightly up. And in what was perhaps a Christmas miracle, Fiona didn’t argue with him or rip the silly headband off her head.

“Well,” said their dad with a wicked grin, turning on the heat beneath the steamer pot that housed a mountain or broccoli, “if Freddie’s handling the food, let’s go see what movies are on the TV.”

Freddie shot him a baleful look at the implication that he was now in charge of the entire Christmas dinner.

“Yeah,” said Fen, her eyes sparkling, “thanks, honey, for volunteering. See you later. Maybe the Grinch is on.”

“Hilarious.” But when Freddie stood upon straight again, waving steam away from his face, he was smiling. “How’s this?” He pulled the roasting pan’s lid free. “How’s it looking, in your expert opinion?”

Fiona peered over the pan, examining the skin with a discerning eye. “Few more minutes. What about the Brussels sprouts? They doing okay?”

Freddie returned the turkey to the oven and pulled out the vegetables. “They look good to me.”

Not even wincing from the heat when her fingertips plucked a glistening sprout from the tray, Fiona took a bite. “Perfect.”

And it was, Bridget realized. Not the stupid Brussels sprouts—she hated the damn things—but this. This Christmas. Her mother being stiff and standoffish, but actually looking at her. Freddie stuttering and keeping his distance, but wearing forgiveness in his gaze. Her dad cracking jokes and downing eggnog that might or might not have had a few glugs of rum stirred in. Fen pulling out her phone and dragging everyone to the Christmas tree for a truly embarrassing set of selfies.

Bridget grinned as the iPhone light flashed. Even with the ever-present knot in her belly and brand-new tracking chip in her arm, this Christmas was already a hundred times better than last year’s.

“Glad you came after all?” Fen whispered in her ear, handing off the phone to Freddie so he could hold it in his longer arms to get everyone in the picture.

Blinking away tears, Bridget nodded. “Yeah. I really am.”

“I know I already said it, but…” Fen bit her lip, her eyes also shimmering. “Merry Christmas, B. I love you.”

“Merry Christmas.” Bridget wrapped her arms around her little sister. “I love you, too.”