#christmas carol x reader

[multi-fandom-imagine]

hiii, i have more ideas!!!

what about if Y/N who is a close worker for scrooge but she's hiding that she's sick and she overworks herself that she collapse outside his office and scrooge is worried and has flashbacks to his sister jen.

so angst to fluff pleaseee

A/n: Yoooo why do you gotta do this to me!

Both of them harbor feelings for one another. Scrooge is just to stubborn / scared and the reader just thinks he hates her.

You did your best to suppress the chill that ran down your spine. You felt hot, everything was hot and your body ached whenever you moved. You had to suppress the urge to not vomit, to took every will power for you not to just sleep.

“Y/n.”

Jolting awake you felt your heart race as you looked around the room. You didn’t even realize you dozed off. Looking up you flinched from the hard gaze your boss gave you.

“I don’t pay you to sleep Y/n.”

Opening your mouth you held back a cough, your chest burning as you gave him a weak smile. “I’m sorry sir. I did not get enough sleep last night…I’ll do better I promise.” You whispered lowering you head, gazing at your lap.

Stepping close, Scrooge held his hand out to touch you. He didn’t mean to sound so harsh, he honestly did not know why he even said something so harsh. Quickly pulling his hand back he nodded his head then turned away from you. “I’ll be back.”

He waited for your usual goodbye, that bright smile of yours that always seem to make him feel better but he received nothing. Lowering his gaze he quickly stepped out of the door.

+•+

Once he was out the door you let yourself go into another coughing fit, seeing that the fire was about to die out you stood up, legs shaking. Everything seemed foggy. Why was it getting so dizzy, taking step forward you let your hands grasped your desk only for you to slump forward, your legs giving out and that’s when everything went back.

Glancing at the bottle of medicine in his hands Scrooge hoped this would help your cough, he wasn’t stupid he knew you were doing your best to hide your cough, he just couldn’t figure out why you were hiding it from him. He would have let you go home, we’re you scared of him, I mean he was trying to work on himself.

“Y/n?” You should have called back to him or at least greeted him by the door, you always greeted him by the door. Rounding the corner his eyes went wide when he spotted your form right outside his office,his heart dropping into his stomach as the bottle of medicine slipped from his fingers as he rushed to your side.

“Y/n!” Kneeling beside you he pulled his hand back, your skin was ice cold but your head was burning up, he tried to squash the fear building inside of him and suddenly he wasn’t seeing you, he was seeing his seeing his sister. He couldn’t let that happen to you, he couldn’t lose you like he lost her. “I’m not.”Biting his tongue he lifted your body as he wished out of his office. He had to get you some place warm, he had to make sure you would survive this. “I will not lose you too.”

+•+

“I do not give a damn!”

Everything felt hazy, like you were trapped in a fog but it was the shouting of a familiar voice that had awoken you.

“I have done all can for her, the rest is up to Y/n. Good Day Mr Scrooge.”

Hearing a closing of a door you flinched then closed your eyes pretending to be sleep as your boss slipped into the room you were sleeping, a room you’ve never seen before”

“Pompous ass.” Muttering under his breath his he knelt beside you. His hand grasping yours gently, seeing you lay in bed like this brought up feelings that he had buried, one’s that didn’t like to think about. He knew he shouldn’t feel this way towards you, his employee but it was so easy to fall for you and now he couldn’t help but think about Belle. His mistake, one of the things he regretted but he was not going to let this chance pass and while you maybe sleeping and while he he would tell you when you were lucid he wanted to get this off his chest.

“Y/n….I am sorry….I am sorry for not noticing your sickness sooner…I’m sorry for being such….for being such a coward…for not admitting my feelings for you…and while you way not be awake to hear this. I love you Y/n.”

You could feel your heart hammering in your chest. You weren’t sure how long you waited for him to fall asleep, how long it was until you listened to his confession but it made you happy. Wincing you shifted your body then glanced over noticing that he had fallen sleep beside the bed you were, the man still clutching your hand and as your eyes adjuster to the darkness you finally spotted Prudence laying by the foot of your bed.

“He took me too his home.” Biting back some laughter you smiled watching him. “I love you too, you silly man.”

[anbadann]

Part 2..

I need something else to do in my life.

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Past Astarion Meets His Future

This is a weird ass idea, but I'm doing it anyway. Some time travel fuckery. But the gist is: What if Astarion, decades before the Mind-flayers captured him, was on his last leg? Just on the verge of doing, what was at the time, his only way out. But what if something a little unworldly stopped him?

TW: Suicidal thoughts. M/F, me phoning it in with the dnd lore, Cazador is evil. Like, torture, physically and mentally, manipulation, literal horror shit. He's here so bad things happen to randos and our poor guy. I'm also using this as the backstory again for why Astarion can be in the sun in the future because it's so god damned convenient for drabbles.

~

Astarion watched the crowded bar with focused eyes, a feigned, relaxed smirk on his lips. But even with the acting, he could feel the smile on his face start to tremble, a tell-tale sign that he was truly on his last leg. It had been a long, horrible night, one that had no end in sight. Cazador was in rare form, demanding multiple warm bodies in the span of less than five hours. Astarion wasn't sure what had angered him this time, but he was taking it on the victims in a particularly savage way.

Twice already he had forced Astarion to stay in the room with the poor souls he'd brought back. And then Cazador... made him watch what he did to them. The monster truly had a knack for keeping them alive until the last possible moment. Beating them, assaulting them, laughing at their cries for help. He drank from them last, feasting on their blood until they were just on the edge of death before tossing to them ground. Then Astarion was dismissed with the order to find another.

He hated it. It was the worst part of his nights by far, not including when he was the one being tortured in their place. It didn't help that he always looked at their faces, full of terror and betrayal.

Why did he always have to look? It was a question he knew the answer to. It was because he did that to them. Perhaps not literally, but what was the difference? Astarion had led them straight into his hands.

That was all he did. His entire existence had been reduced to this. A slave, a rat, scuttling through the streets, only capable of inflicting the same torment on strangers. It was a hell that no one should experience, and one that Astarion had been in for nearly 130 years.

How could he continue like this? What was the point? He'd spent so long living on pure survival instinct, waiting for the impossible day where luck would be on his side. Where Cazador would kill the wrong stranger, where the possibility of his murder could become a reality. It was delusional, a poor excuse to continue clinging to this farce of a life.

But there was another option. There always had been. All he needs to do is wander off and wait for the sun to rise, and everything could finally be over. It's far from the first time he's thought about it. But Astarion is nothing but a coward. He'd seen the pure pain and misery of a death of that nature, your insides boiling from within as your skin turned to dust. It was horrifying, one of the worst ways someone could go. And yet... it was starting to seem like the only reasonable option he had left.

Maybe... maybe today would be the day, the first time he'd seen the sun in decades. And the last time he'd ever take a breath.

"Are you alone?" A voice asked, followed by a gentle touch to his arm.

Astarion turned, that same shallow smile instantly reappearing on his face. It was a man, one that was handsome enough for Astarion to probably not feel completely sick during the deed. Then again... he could always ignore them and go back to his final plan.

Or he could wait it out one more day, and pray for a miracle. Astarion nodded towards him, still slightly torn but willing to at least try. It's not like he could go home empty handed if things turned out that way.

"Come to my room?"

Well this was certainly easy. Astarion didn't even have to take the energy to bite out a subpar pick up line. He just followed the man to his room, a plan forming in his head on how he could convince him back to the manor. Not to mention his own escape if he turned out to have less than savory intentions.

The stranger shut the door behind him, sitting on the side of his bed with his hands folded in his lap, his eyes staring straight ahead. Astarion barely stopped himself from rolling his own. Great. A weirdo. What a lovely way to end the night, spending it seducing a complete freak. But Astarion had dealt with worse. He perched next to him, crossing his legs as he waited to see where this would go.

"I can see it," He finally said, his voice gravelly as he turned to stare at Astarion.

Astarion raised his brow, wondering for the first time if this particular prey had been partaking in some mind altering substances, "And what exactly are you seeing?"

"You."

Suddenly, the man was wrapping a tight hand around Astarion's wrist, his eyes shining with an unnatural green light, "You're close to the edge. Too close. My lord needs you breathing."

Astarion froze, equally parts horrified and confused at what he was alluding to. How on earth did he know his thoughts? What lord? Or the more likely reality; How wasted could one person be?

Astarion tried to pull back, frowning when he realized the grip on his wrist was iron-clad. He could feel a bit of panic start to swell inside him as he struggled, his voice rising, "I have no idea what you're talking about. Let go of me-"

"You must live," He said, the color of his eyes only getting brighter and brighter, near twin flames in the darkness of the room, "There is no other way. Kelemvor has work for you yet."

His confusion was quickly evaporating into rage. He didn't know what this thing wanted from him, nor why the god of death would have any interest in his life. But how dare he insist on Astarion's pathetic existence having meaning. He knew nothing.

His mask was slipping, his righteous anger spilling forth, "Let go. Before I rip your fucking arm off."

But he made no moves to back down. Instead he started to chant, an incantation that had Astarion officially panicking. Whatever magic he was using, it was powerful. Reality was shifting right beneath Astarion's feet, morphing into something different. The next thing he knew they were somewhere else entirely, his reality melting into something new right before his eyes.

The entire thing was so shocking that Astarion didn't even realize he was seeing sunlight. Without a single pain. He frantically looked around, the insane stranger's grip finally loosening as he twisted away. They were on a couch, in the middle of what looked like a brightly lit townhouse, voices spilling out of the other room.

Astarion stood quickly, a hiss escaping him, "Where in the hells are we?"

"Nowhere," The man said cryptically, his eyes still aflame, "Neither the present of the future. We are in nothing but a glimpse, taken and made for you."

That did nothing to answer his question. But it did make his mind go into more reasonable directions. This had to be an illusion, there was no other explanation for why he wasn't being burned alive. But an illusion of what? And for what purpose?

Astarion pinched the bridge of his nose, at a complete loss at what to do. He could try and kill him and pray that that would break the spell. But there was also the chance that he wouldn't live through an altercation with someone who could warp his senses so easily. Or perhaps this whole thing was a nightmare, a horrifying dream he'd cooked up after a night in the torture chamber.

Still at a loss, he settled on asking another question, "Then what is this a glimpse of?"

"Home," The man said simply before slipping off the couch. The cryptic bastard.

He started walking towards the next room towards the unknown voices; Astarion feeling helpless but to follow.

He lingered at the entryway, his eyes widening at the sight of a woman standing there, cooing at a teary-eyed child she had on her hip. They were right in her line of sight, but she had no reaction to their presence, instead calling out into the other room, "Did you find it yet?"

Another voice called back, oddly familiar as it groaned, "If I had, would I still be on my hands and knees here?"

Astarion stepped forward, more than ready to see if he could enlist the help of strangers for his predicament.

"They can not perceive us," The stranger said, interrupting the call for help that was on the tip of Astarion's tongue, "They are not real. Merely copies of what is, what will be."

"Lovely," Astarion growled out, his fingers itching to fight back against this demon of a man, "Now what in the gods' names does this have to do with me?"

"Watch and you will see," He said, his eyes blazing straight ahead, "The Lord of Death works in mysterious ways."

Astarion's theory of this being a torture-induced dream was becoming more and more believable. He didn't even bother questioning it, not when one more inane answer would send him into a tailspin. Instead he stared ahead, waiting for the moment he would wake up.

The baby was still squirming. Annoying whining sounds spilling from its lips, nearly on the edge of crying. But the woman still had a bright smile on her face, calling back "I told you we should have looked for it last night!"

"Well when she threw it across the room I assumed that meant it had fallen out of favor!" That same familiar voice yelled back, followed by an excited ah-ha! sound.

"Isabella's gonna have a fit, isn't she?" The woman sing-songed, bouncing the child on her hip, "I guess Mommy's going to have to let you start sucking on Daddy's hair again, huh?"

"I heard that!" The muffled voice called back, getting clearer and clearer by the moment. And then another man was walking into the room, grinning ear to ear as he held up a pacifier, "And I will not be forgetting it darling. Don't come crying to me the next time she's gnawing on your nose."

He leaned over to kiss the woman on the cheek before popping the pacifier in the girl's mouth, laughing when it instantly made her calm down. He was tall and pale, an elf with piercing red eyes and pure white hair.

No. It couldn't be-

"There. All better," The man sighed, his voice crystal clear in the calmness of the room, "She has quite the arm for a toddler."

It was a voice that Astarion knew, better than anyone else. It was his own.

Astarion watched, wide-eyed as his other self lifted the baby up in his arms, laughing as the child squealed around the pacifier, "She sure is cute for someone who can be such a brat. She takes after her mother doesn't she?"

The woman rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling. Almost like she couldn't help but do anything else as she watched the duo, "Brave words for someone of your nature. Not to mention how she's your twin."

"Nonsense. She looks just like you, we should have named her Tav Jr," Other Astarion playfully argued, taking his other arm to wrap around the woman's shoulders, "I'm only responsible for the corpse-like complexion."

Astarion stared at them, in complete shock. He didn't-why would anyone or anything want to show him this? It didn't make sense. How would it be possible for him to be in the sunlight? Let alone to have a family. Astarion knew that this had to be a lie, there was no other explanation.

But that didn't stop his heart from aching from being forced to witness it. He was too shell-shocked to speak as he followed the duo to the other room, listening as his other self set the child in a crib, still cooing at her, "Auntie Karlach is coming over and you'll need your rest. How else will you be annoying together?"

"Astarion!"

He watched himself laugh as he pulled back, kissing her little forehead before murmuring, "Mommy only says my name like that when she has no comeback, isn't that right princess?"

"You're going to regret telling her everything when she can start talking," The woman, Tav, piped up from next to him, "I hope you realize she'll tell me all of your secrets."

Astarion rolled his eyes before pulling her against him, pressing a sweet and lingering kiss to her lips, "What secrets do I have that you don't know? Please, enlighten me."

What kind of cruel joke was this? Astarion, the real Astarion, had seen enough. He turned to the bastard that had sent him here, growling through gritted teeth, "Why are you doing this to me? Have I not suffered through enough?"

The man offered nothing of value, "We offer you what could be, if you can survive. No more, no less."

No. No, no, no. He wouldn't believe him. He refused to. There was no future for him. There couldn't be. I-It wasn't possible. Not with Cazador looming, not when he couldn't walk in the sun without being burned alive. And especially not when he couldn't even fathom letting himself care form someone enough to have a family with.

But that's what was in front of him. He turned back, his morbid curiosity getting the better of him. Just in time to see the couple standing there, holding each other while they made out like teenagers.

"I love you," His other self sighed happily, the words free and unbidden from his own lips between kisses, "More than anything my sweet."

"With one exception?" Tav asked, her arms wrapped around his neck.

Astarion laughed, nodding towards the crib with a knowing grin, "With one exception."

Astarion stared at them, a horrifying feeling starting to grow in his chest.

Hope.

It's the greatest betrayal he could give himself, an eternity's sentence to his own personal hell on the delusional belief that something better would come. He couldn't give in to it. He wouldn't.

But the question still escapes his lips, "How long?"

"Seventy years until you meet," The stranger said, "You must live to see it. Five more until you're here."

Astarion watched, wide-eyed as the alternate reality started to fade, the stranger's eyes becoming more dull and human-like by the moment. He stared until the last possible moment, trying to commit it all to memory.

But it was difficult. Like thoughts he couldn't quite grasp, slipping through his fingers. Something wasn't right.

"Will I remember this?" He asked, even though he was already on the edge of forgetting.

"No," The man said simply. They were back in the room, sitting on the bed as though nothing had happened, "But you'll remember the hope."

It was the equivalent of a curse, one that Astarion could barely fathom as magic twisted his memories. But he could feel it there, festering in his heart. The yearning for a new life, stronger than ever.

Astarion left Shar's Caress that night feeling dazed and confused. He barely managed to drag a wasted loner back to the manor with him, preying on him in the back aisles. It was startling to think that he'd almost forgotten his original mission considering the consequences. But whatever happened had... done something to him. Something that he couldn't quite name.

But he didn't see the sun that day. Or the next. Or the day after that. Instead he continued to struggle, to suffer at the hands of his sadistic sire with no end in sight. Not until years and years later, when the worst and best thing to ever happen to him occurred. He was kidnapped by mind flayers, but gifted with a disgusting parasite that allowed him to live in the sun.

It wasn't ideal but it was better than being under Cazador's thumb. Not to mention how he found companions relatively quickly. It had been pure luck that you stumbled upon him, even luckier still that you were the type to forgive a man for having a knife to your throat.

He was happy to accompany you. He was happy to do whatever it took to increase his chances of survival, frankly. It helped that he felt... strangely drawn to you. You looked oddly familiar. He didn't know how else to describe it, but it was almost as though he'd met someone from a past life.

[sycamorelibrary754]

Merry Christmas

Summary: It’s the most wonderful time of the year. You and Natasha are off to the annual Stark Christmas Party. Little does the team know that a special surprise awaits them.

Genre: Fluff

Pairings: Natasha x reader, Avengers x reader (platonic).

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: None

A/N: This is part 2 to Happy Thanksgiving! I recommend reading it first, but it can be read as a stand-alone story as well. I hope you enjoy!

“Be down in a minute, malyshka!” Natasha called from the bedroom. 

You were standing in the cozy kitchen, savoring spoonfuls of creamy peanut butter straight from the jar, drizzled with rich chocolate sauce. You jokingly referred to it as your "homemade Reese's." It was your first pregnancy craving, prompting Nat to rush to the corner grocery store at 2 am to procure the duo of ingredients.

"No need to worry, my dear!" I'm all set for Tony's yearly Christmas gathering at the estate. I'm wearing a stunning green Sequin-Lace Halter Twist-Neck Jumpsuit, and my growing baby bump adds an extra glow to the outfit.

Natasha's arrival was announced by the confident click of her high heels. A few moments later, she appeared in a stunning, sleek red midi dress with a scoop-back design, perfectly accentuating her figure.

"Wow, Nat, you look absolutely stunning in red. It's definitely your color," you complimented.

Her smirk grew as she put on her earrings, 'So, you're choosing it over the black?' she teased.

"I never said that, did I?" with a cheeky wink.

"Is the little one loving the homemade Reese’s?" she said, grabbing her clutch.

Absolutely!" I exclaimed, setting aside the tempting chocolate and peanut butter. "How about we whip up some delicious fudge tomorrow?

"Is it because the baby has such a sweet tooth?" Nat playfully teased.

"Absolutely," you giggled coyly.

"Whatever the baby wants, I guess," she said as she enveloped you in a warm embrace, then leaned over to plant a tender kiss on your belly.

"Are you ready to drop the baby bomb tonight?" Patting Nat's head affectionately.

“I'm feeling a bit nervous," she confessed, standing upright. "I remember how everyone reacted when they learned about Clint's family. I can't help but wonder how they'll take this news.

“They will embrace their roles as the wonderful aunts and uncles they were meant to be,” you said, grabbing your wife's hand. “Plus, announcing it with the Christmas crackers is a cute idea.”

"I hope so," she whispered before planting a gentle kiss on your lips. 

Can you believe Yelena still hasn't spilled the beans?” you asked.

"Oh, that's because I warned her that if she told anyone, I would make her run with me every morning at 5 am until the baby is born," Natasha explained.

“Well played,” you replied, high-fiving your wife. 

Thank you," she smiled. "Now, come on, let's go and get into the holiday spirit.

*^~^*

As we drove to the compound, the snowflakes delicately blanketed the landscape, creating a picturesque scene of holiday cheer. Each house we passed was adorned with shimmering Christmas lights, casting a warm, enchanting glow upon the neighborhood. I reached out to hold Natasha's hand, our fingers naturally intertwining as I pressed a tender kiss to the back of her hand, savoring the moment.

Upon our arrival at the compound, a rush of inviting warmth enveloped us as you both stepped into the lobby. Natasha brushed the delicate snowflakes from your hair and coat, her caring touch bringing a sense of comfort. Together, you made our way onto the elevator, where the voice of FRIDAY greeted us, creating a tranquil atmosphere as we continued our journey.

“Ladies, Merry Christmas, and welcome to the annual Stark Christmas party!”

“Merry Christmas, FRIDAY. How’s the party so far?” You asked as the elevator hum carried you up to the living quarters.

“The festivities are in full swing. Mr. Stark is treating the guests to a medley of lively and heartwarming Christmas carols,” FRIDAY explained.

"Of course he is," you chuckled.

“He only plays that baby grand after a few drinks," Nat added. "After our month-long covert op in Romania, we flew back, and he decided to mark the occasion with a tipsy performance of ABBA’s Dancing Queen.”

"Ah, I can't believe I missed it!" you groaned, pretending to be disappointed.

As the elevator doors slid open, the vibrant red and green decorations instantly caught your eye, along with the magnificent 12-foot-tall Noble Fir Christmas tree that stood proudly in the heart of the common area. It was evident that Pepper had poured her heart into adorning the tree, carefully draping it in an array of colored lights and delicate silver and gold ornaments. The festive ambiance filled the air, evoking a sense of warmth and holiday cheer.

"Look who's here - the Romanoff's have arrived!" Clint cheered as his kids eagerly ran over to greet you and Natahsa.

As Nate leaped into your wife's embrace, you welcomed Lila and Cooper with warm hugs. Each time you saw the Barton kids, it became apparent that they had grown a little more. Banner and Cho made carrying a child that would be a combination of both your and Natasha's genes possible. Observing the striking resemblance of Clint and Laura's children to their parents, you eagerly anticipated discovering which traits your little plum would inherit from each of you.

Natasha leaned in and planted a kiss on Nathaniel's cheek. "How's my little namesake?" she grinned. "Have you been practicing those punch and kick combinations I taught you?

"Practicing the what?" Laura asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, nothing,” Natasha flashed a sly smile as Nate burst into laughter.

"You both look amazing! The green and red combination is really working for you," Clint said.

Thanks! I have to say that your Christmas sweater is quite lovely. I really dig Rudolph's glowing nose." You don't see that very often!” You teased.

“Hey, the Barton’s are the cream of the crop when it comes to ugly Christmas sweaters.”

“Clearly,” Nat stated.

"I’ll take your coats," Cooper graciously offered.

"Wow, thank you. What a gentleman," you said with a wink as you handed him yours and Natasha’s pea coats.

Looking around, you spotted Wanda adding the final decorations to trays of delicious Christmas cookies. You put a hand on Nat’s shoulder and motioned toward the kitchen. She gave you a quick nod as you meandered over to the counter. 

"Wanda, Wanda, Wanda... What do we have here?" you inquired with a sly grin.

Y/N! It's so good to see you," she exclaimed, her arms wrapping around me in one of her signature warm and comforting hugs that I always loved. "This is my parents' famous Christmas cookie recipe," she proudly announced, holding up a worn and stained piece of paper. "I managed to convince Tony and Pepper to let me take charge of the desserts this year. So, we've got batches of freshly baked cookies, the decadent Viennese torte chilling in the fridge, and the pumpkin pie just coming out to cool on the counter.

Wow, you've been keeping busy," you said with a smile. "Is there anything I can do to lend a hand?

"Sure, you can take a cookie and go mingle. I'll be finished in a few minutes," she said, handing you a delightful cookie shaped like Santa. As you bit into it, you were amazed. It was the most delicious cookie you had ever tasted.

"Wow, Wanda! This is fantastic!" you exclaimed excitedly.

"That's exactly why I'll always champion homemade goodies over store-bought ones. Now, come on, go join the fun," she said, playfully shooing you away.

You turned around to see your wife, elegantly positioned by the fireplace, conversing with Steve with a champagne glass. As you began crossing the room, Kate and Lucky, adorned in festive attire, intercepted your path.

"Y/N! It's been ages! How have you been?" Kate exclaimed, her face lighting up with excitement.

"Hey, Kate! It's great to see you and Lucky enjoying the party," while giving the Golden Retriever some affectionate pets.

"Kate joyfully exclaimed, "Yes, say hello to Santa Paws and Mrs. Claus!" Sadly, we can't seem to find Yelena. She's our dedicated elf." Kate glanced around the room with concern.

Wait, Yelena is actually dressed as an elf?!" Your eyes widened in surprise. "Oh, that's fantastic.”

“Yeah, if you see her, will you send her our way? We’re supposed to take the photo for our holiday card tonight,” Kate explained.

"Nothing would make me happier," you said with a smirk and a hand resting on Kate's shoulder.

You bid farewell to the young archer and her loyal pup before rejoining your wife.

"Hey detka," Nat greeted, gently wrapping her arm around your waist.

"Y/N, I was just telling your wife that she needs to find her holiday spirit and come Christmas caroling with us next week," Steve stated.

"Natasha singing? I'm not convinced that would do wonders for the community's morale," you quipped.

Nat giggled at the remark, "Says the woman who performs one-woman tributes to Harry Styles in the shower?"

“Hey" you interrupted, "I'll have you know that my performance of Sign of the Times has been receiving high praise.

A moment later, Tony and Pepper joined your little group, with Morgan walking alongside them.

"Hey there, Romanoffs! You've got to taste this amazing Hot Buttered Rum," Tony exclaimed.

I adore Hot Buttered Rum, but I'm in the mood for some sparkling cider tonight," you explained. "I bet Nat would enjoy some, though. Don't you think, sweetheart?”

"Sure," she said, grabbing the glass from Tony's hand. Steve looked back at you curiously.

As you looked down at Morgan, who was sitting on the cozy ottoman next to the crackling fireplace, you couldn't help but feel a deep connection. Ever since you discovered that you were expecting a baby, your heart has been inexplicably drawn to children in a way you had never experienced before.

"Hey there, cutie!" you exclaimed to the young Stark. "You're looking lovely tonight," as you crouched down to her eye level.

"Thank you so much, Aunt Y/N," she said with a big grin.

“Are you getting excited for Christmas?" you inquired. "You're at the top of Santa's nice list this year!

“Really?!” Morgan squealed.

"Definitely! I have a feeling the man in red will bring you some amazing surprises this year," you winked.

Hey, did you catch that, Daddy? Aunt Y/N just told me that I'm at the very top of the nice list!

“I sure did, squirt. I didn’t realize Aunt Y/N was so tight with St. Nick,” Tony said, eyeing you coyly.

"Of course, we're on a first-name basis. I'm amazed you're not," you said with a smirk, looking at the billionaire. You had a strong bond with Tony, treating him like a brother, but you couldn't resist teasing him.

Trust me, Mrs. Romanoff," Tony said with a smirk. "I'm way closer to Santa than you are.

“Do you have a direct line to the North Pole?” You countered.

"Are you getting milk and cookies flown in from Holland? You know those are his absolute favorites," Tony remarked, giving you a knowing look.

"Alright, that's it," your wife said as she touched your shoulders from behind. "You both know Santa. You both have giant egos. Merry Christmas," Nat mocked. "Come on, Tony, let's grab some hors d'oeuvres for our better halves. I'll be right back, detka," she said, leading the billionaire toward the kitchen.

You couldn’t help but admire Natasha as she walked away. Looking back over her shoulder, she smiled at you with all the love in the world. You just about melted right there in front of the fireplace. Snapping out of your love daze, you noticed Pepper grinning at you.

“What?” you asked.

"Oh, nothing. I just can’t help but notice how glowing you look tonight," Pepper said as Morgan pulled her away towards Clint’s kids, while Steve strolled away to join Bucky in conversation with Rhodes.

"Hey, psst... psst!" a voice suddenly whispered.

You suddenly spun around just in time to see a styrofoam snowball hurtling towards your face. With lightning-fast reflexes, you snatched it out of the air smoothly.

"Great snag," a Russian voice exclaimed.

"Yelena, where are you?" You glanced around, but couldn't see my sister-in-law anywhere.

"Over here!" she called out, peeking from behind the towering seven-foot snowman beside the pool table.

"Aww, you look absolutely adorable as an elf," you giggled.

Yelena's voice was barely audible as she uttered, "If you weren't pregnant with my niece or nephew, you would be hanging upside down from the rafters right now."

"Do you know that Kate and Lucky are looking for you?" you asked.

“Why do you think I’m hiding behind the enormous snowman? Kate Bishop forced me to dress in this saccharin American Christmas costume, and now she wants photographic evidence of it.” Yelena said.

"Because she loves you, silly," she said with a smile, arms crossed over her chest.

"Dinner time, detka. Let's go," Natasha called out and then abruptly halted, bursting into laughter at the sight of her sister.

“Tred carefully, sestra,” Yelena threatened. 

Nope, I'm loving this. Isn't this the new mission suit attire?" she said, playfully tapping the bell hanging from her elf hat. "Maybe we can convince Stark to level up this outfit with some Widow Bites action.

“Do you have a death wish?” Yelena sneered.

“Come on, you adorable elf, it’s time for dinner,” you say as you place an arm around your best friend’s shoulder.

*^~^*

As you sat next to your wife at the elegant Astoria Grand Giovani dining table, the soft touch of Natasha's hand sent a gentle warmth through you. You turned to her and caught her shy smile; her cheeks tinged with a rosy, festive blush.

Pepper rose from her seat beside Tony at the head of the lavishly decorated holiday table. With warmth in her voice and a genuine smile, she addressed the gathered guests. "Before we savor this delectable holiday spread, I want to express our deep gratitude for every one of you being here," she said, gently clasping Tony's hand. "Every person in this room understands the preciousness of life, and we cherish every moment together. We want you to know how much we love you, and we wish you all a Merry Christmas."

"Cheers!" Thor exclaimed a few seats away, raising his glass as clinking filled the table.

The festive Christmas feast brought an abundance of delightful dishes to savor. The centerpiece was a perfectly roasted turkey, surrounded by tempting trimmings. Freshly baked bread, creamy mashed potatoes, and garden-fresh vegetables, delicately roasted and complemented with balsamic vinegar, graced the table. Laughter filled the air as the group indulged in cheerful conversation and shared a medley of lighthearted, albeit incredibly corny, jokes.

As the evening progressed, pregnancy mood swings began to intensify. Amidst the gathering, a wave of emotion washed over you as you and your extended family relished the holiday season together.

"Y/N, are you alright?" Carol's eyes held a deep sense of concern as she gazed at you from across the table.

Oh, yeah," you say, dabbing at the corner of your eyes with a napkin. "I'm fine.

"The holidays always tug at her heartstrings," Natasha covered, resting her head on your shoulder.

After your delicious dinner, you assisted Wanda in setting up the dessert spread. Placing the Christmas cookies in the center, you carefully arranged the Viennese torte and the pumpkin pie on either side. As the evening progressed, you passed around coffee and dessert wine; all enjoying the company and the sweet treats.

The room was filled with the cozy warmth of full bellies and slightly sleepy eyes as the group relaxed in the living room. Soft, enchanting Christmas music filled the air, creating the perfect backdrop for the kids' lively discussions about their Christmas wishes and what they hoped Santa would bring them this year.

"Alright, Kate Bishop, let's hurry up with this photo. I can't wait to change into my pajamas," Yelena declared as she reluctantly rose from the couch.

You got it! Stay right there. Come here, Lucky," Kate called out as the dog happily bounded over. "Vision, could you snap the photo for us?

"Of course, Ms. Bishop," he said, confidently taking the Canon EOS R-50 from the archer's hands.

“It is customary to say cheese before a picture, but since it is Christmas time, perhaps you should say mistletoe?” Vision inquired.

"Just take the picture," Yelena said dryly, a hint of impatience in her voice.

Kate's voice echoed through the room, 'Mistletoe!'

"Hey, we're getting one of these cards, right?" you eagerly looked at your wife.

“I had Kate put us down for two,” she smirked.

*^~^*

As darkness descended, you leaned back and rested your tired head on Nat's comforting lap, feeling the soothing sensation of her fingers gently running through your hair.

Natasha glanced at her watch, noting the late hour. "Are you ready to drop the baby bomb?"

"I'm as ready as I'll ever be. I'll grab the Christmas crackers," you declared, getting up from the sofa.

"Hey everyone, Y/N and I have a surprise for you," your wife nervously announced as you handed out the gold and silver novelties to the team.

"Christmas crackers? Seriously? I was expecting something a bit more extravagant… Oww!" Tony complained as Pepper playfully pinched his arm.

You smiled nervously, your heart racing as you reached for Natasha. The snap of the festive crackers echoed merrily across the room, adding to the holiday cheer. Clint's eyes lit up as he was the first to reach inside and carefully remove the tiny gift from the cracker. The little round ceramic white ornament, delicately tied to a vibrant red ribbon, appeared in his hand, reflecting the warm glow of the holiday lights. Lila, Cooper, and Nate, their faces filled with excitement and curiosity, eagerly huddled around their dad to get a glimpse as Clint slowly turned the ornament to read the inscription, a moment of joy and togetherness shared by the entire family.

"Uncle Clint?" he read, looking up at Natasha in complete shock.

Sam couldn't believe it and shouted, "No way!"

As Wanda, Carol, and Kate gazed upon their unique ornaments, they couldn't help but shout a collective scream of joy. Each ornament proudly displayed its name, followed by the cherished title of "Aunt."

Thor exclaimed, 'This is joyous news!'

Pepper jumped to her feet and wrapped you in a bear hug, while Laura did the same with Natasha.

“How far along are you?” Wanda asked.

“Almost three months,” Yelena cut in.

"Wait, you knew?! Why didn't you tell me?" Kate yelled, slapping her girlfriend on the arm.

“Because I want to sleep in!” Yelena shouted.

"Nat, I'm thrilled for you," Steve exclaimed, gently kissing her cheek.

Bucky enveloped you in a warm embrace, planting a soft kiss on your head.

"Are you prepared to take on the role of Uncle Bucky?" You lock eyes with him.

His face froze in sheer panic, like a deer caught in the headlights.

“You’ll be great, Buck,” you chuckled. 

Bruce and Helen wrapped Natasha in a warm, heartfelt embrace, simultaneously holding her close from both sides.

Helen turned to you with a look of relief. "Now that everyone knows, we can openly discuss your pregnancy," she said. "Have you been taking your prenatal vitamins regularly?

"Don't forget, you've got an appointment on Friday," Bruce said.

Without a second thought, you replied, "Yes and yes," as Natasha leaned in to gently kiss your cheek, followed by another on your belly.

Tony swaggered up to you with his trademark smirk playing at the corners of his lips. Bracing yourself for one of his classic Stark one-liners or a cheeky joke, you were entirely taken off guard when he unexpectedly enveloped you in a comforting and heartfelt hug.

“Congratulations, Romanoff,” Tony said. “It looks like you do know Santa best.” 

[fandomnerd9602]

Y/N writes out a letter to Santa…

Y/N: Cmon Carol! Aren’t you gonna write a letter to Santa?

Carol just picks up Y/N’s and reads it…

Carol: why is my name written all over-oh I get it! Flirt!

Y/N: guilty!

Carol: just get over here and kiss me

[pursuitseternal]

“Wrap Me Up:” 🎀 A Merry (NSFW) for the Vampire Lord Astarion, “The Rogue You Were” Christmas Special 🕯️

Ascended Astarion x F!Reader | E | 5.6K of thawing his “Scrooge-ish” heart with bondage and ice play

Based on “A Christmas Carol,” because Astarion would be a total “Scrooge”

Part 2: “Yuletide in Faerûn”

Summary: He hates Yuletide, a time where he is haunted by the ghosts of Yuletides past, but you won’t let him remain so cold, not when all he needs is a little warmth and pleasure to thaw…

CW: Bondage, Ice Play, temperature play, Dom/sub tones, face fucking, nipple play, breast biting, blood kink, sex as healing, face the ghost of Yuletide past, make him look towards the ghosts of Yuletide present and future with you

AO3 link | Read “Rogue You Were” | Masterist

🧊🔥🧊🔥🧊🔥🧊🔥🧊🔥🧊🔥🧊🔥🧊🔥🧊

Cazador was dead to begin with…. His palace redone, reclaimed by your love, your master. No longer some distasteful, neglected home of a miser and monster. It is the toast of Baldur’s Gate, the lavish, decadent crowning jewel of the city, and home to the man all admired and feared. Astarion, Vampire Ascendant.

Your love. Your Master. Your spouse.

But even still, as the streets of the city filled with snow, wet and heavy from the sea, as the air filled with the sights and sounds and smells of Yuletide, your home remained cheerless.

Cazador was dead, and so was the infamous Yule Ball he hosted in his decrepit halls—forbidden by its new lord and master. Astarion had no wish to carry on any of that monster’s legacy. A gala event meant to make his spawn work all the harder for victims at the risk of torture… a night of sumptuous darkness, where victims were aplenty, a prize for their master.

And so… Yuletide was banished. Halls were bright, but no more shining than usual. No evergreens or music or mirth. No gatherings or carols or banquets or dances.

And no… gifts. Those were his orders.

Orders that you understand, but ones that make you grieved. That make you wish to show him the true meaning of Yuletide. And you will show him tonight. To do so, you have been sneaky, subtle, deceptive. And above all… disobedient. But that only makes this plot of yours all the more delicious.

He’s been away all day, corrupting officials and threatening the right people. Turning the powerful into puppets, ensuring everyone pays their tribute to the most powerful being in all the realms. In fact, you think as you begin to peer out the window looking down into the drive, banks of snow scattered to the side and torches flaming to await the master’s arrival, he has been extraordinarily ruthless of late. These last weeks leading into Yuletide, he’s been extorting more money, squeezing favor after favor from the influential, securing all the wealth he could to line his own coffers. And all the while, he grinned that brilliant fang-toothed smile, laughing to be such a menace before the festivities.

Little did he know what you are doing in his absence. Your little secret.

It wasn’t easy to keep. You had to block out his mind, the little ways he liked to check on you from a distance, swirling into your thoughts down your bonded minds as master and bride. You were careful these last few days. Conveniently sending him only thoughts of how much he pleasures you… his hands gripping your ass, his fangs in your throat, his cock shoved to the hilt between your thighs or down your throat, the slick feeling of his cum or its rich and bitter tang….

And once he was satisfied, his presence would leave you, back to your own devices.

Even when he was home of late, he spent much of his time in the treasure vaults, counting and recounting your wealth… until he wandered back to your bed for sweet words of praise and pride in your victories… and for all the carnal ways he loved to consolidate that power with you.

And so, you were free to continue your little plan. You are free to complete your plan.

The eve before Yuletide, and you place a few finishing touches around the library. His favorite place. Not only because he was fond of books, but it is a room all of his own creation. A room free from the ghosts of Cazador’s abuse and violence.

A room all his own.

And now, you made it… festive. The air smells of fresh evergreen and holly, spiced rum punch and sugared sweets, candle smoke and… him. Of citrus and rosemary, that makes your mouth and your cunt wet. Your eyes peer out from the slit in the curtains, watching the snowdrifts billow up in the wind and weather, more flakes of white falling heavy in the night. All that soft, fresh fallen snow muffles the rattle of Astarion’s carriage as it glides up the drive.

Your heart leaps, your hand pulling the curtain back, making sure the light illumines behind you. Making sure he sees you wait for his return, his most beloved spawn in his most beloved room.

He is like shadow incarnate, his black cloak wrapped tightly around his body as it still flaps in the icy winds. Those crimson eyes catch your figure, backlit by the glow within, intrigued, suspicious, his smirking grin makes your quiver, even at this distance.

“Little love… whatever could you be up to?” His voice caresses your mind, sultry and purring to warm your soul.

“Oh, don’t be so cold, my love,” you throw back down the bond of your minds, “why not come and… make yourself warm?”

“Make myself…” he continues to purr even as he strides inside the doors to your palace, “…or permit you to warm me?”

“Come and find out, my darling…”

You can feel his approach, as if you travel as his shadow. Sensing the moment he undoes his clasp, the wet wool of his cloak flopping to the tile. Riding the movement of his legs as he climbs the stairs two at a time. Hearing the sniffs of that aquiline nose that makes a little growl resonate in his throat.

“What have you done?” he hisses into your mind, a pulse of rage and suspicion flaring down your bond.

“It will please you greatly,” you chide in reply, “as long as you overlook my loving disobedience.”

His presence pulls away, only because his hand tears the handle from the library door, the panes of its dark wood flying open to reveal him.

Where he fumes in the entrance.

Crimson eyes glow as he takes in the sight… the fresh scent of spices and sweets and evergreens making his nose turn up in disgust… his gaze scanning from the decorated mantle to the table of sweets, to where you await him near the window.

“My… defiant… little… consort,” he speaks steadily through his grit teeth. “Do you wish to tell me the meaning of all this before I punish you or will it be an extra sweet revelation I pry from you… during…?”

“Or, consider this, my love,” you give him a warm and sultry smile, “you let me, your beloved bride, your treasure, lavish you with some festive joy,” you gesture to the mantle and the table of spiced punch and sweets, “bestow upon you some adoring gifts to show my undying love for you,” you point to the two, small gift wrapped boxes waiting on the table, “and of course some very… merry… entertainment…” You would blush harder if it were possible, your hand tracing down the deep cut of your silken dressing gown. His crimson eyes darkening and dilating as it follows your touch on your own skin.

“You, of all people, my darling should know the dangers involved in tampering with the ghosts of the past that still haunt me…” he crosses the room in what feels like a single bound, his hands closing on your upper arms, his warm touch crushing you against his chest. “You are on some very thin ice… darling. Tread. Very. Carefully.”

“The Rogue I love wouldn’t shy from a fight, even against facing the ghosts that once tormented him,” you smirk up at his enraged face, you can feel his heart racing in a heady mix of emotion, see it throbbing in the veins of his neck. That powerful ascended heart. “Won’t you… at least open my gifts? Let me spoil you for once this Yuletide, as you have never been spoiled before…”

A single brow raises at that. “Well,” he sniffs, tilting his head, eyes falling to the boxes impeccably wrapped before him. “I do rather like being spoiled.” It was a quiet, begrudging sort of acquiescence. “And…” he sighed through his frowning, open mouth, “I suppose you did make a huge effort… even if it was a secret…” he hisses, suddenly giving you that gaze as if you are his next, most delicious meal, “…and disobedient… and deceptive sort of effort for me…”

You smile, such a saccharine look of innocence. “I’m glad you’re beginning to see it, my love.”

His hands fly to your chin, clasping around it before slinking down to claw gently around your neck. “I still expect much from you, darling, to make reparation for your… defiance, as loving as it might be.” You laugh, letting your throat vibrate beneath his touch, as he brings your lips in for a consuming kiss.

However brief.

He presses against your throat, breaking with that dark, conceited grin. “Now, my dearest pet,” he purrs, “impress me with your festive spirit…”

You give him that slightly pouting smile that seems to lower that haze of lust over his eyes. You keep his gaze locked, reaching for the large box,

wrapped in golden paper, tied with golden ribbon. He accepts it into his hands, sifting its weight, shaking it just a touch to feel something hefty sliding inside the container. Then, you see it, almost like the first trickle down an icicle as it starts to melt, the corner of his lips turns just a little higher.

His fingers grip the end of the bow, slowly unraveling it. “What is it?” he asks, a skeptical brow raised.

“The gift to help you chase away the ghost of Yuletide past, my love…” you grin, feeling so confident, so sure of your choices, of your knowledge of him more than he would even admit to his ascended self.

That wins you a twist of those full lips. Those crimson eyes flicker up to yours briefly as his long, dexterous fingers lift open the lid. “Is that a… crown?” pure amusement, voice tickled with the flattery only a perfect gift could give.

You reach your hands in, lifting the metal circlet from its box, the little interwoven strands of dark metal rising into little spikes. “Elegant and vicious,” you hum as you take it between your hands and raise it to rest on his tousle of silver hair. “Just like you, my roguish love.”

“Well if this is your idea of spoiling me with festive cheer…” he raises a brow, turning his head to test out the weight upon his head, “you’re exceeding my expectations.” He turns to the wall behind you, where you have draped boughs of holly leaves and blood red berries around the ornate and gilded mirror on the wall. A fixture in every room now, so he may bask in his own reflection when he wishes. He primps and preens before the glass, turning and twisting to view every angle.

“And I must say, you’ve really captured my power and prestige with something so deadly and…” He pauses lost to the silence as he lavishes in his own reflection, rubbing a finger over the sharpened edges of the points.

You sneak up behind him, where he is lost in his own reflection, that piercing red stare meets yours in the reflection. “A gift, reforged from the past… your old, sadistic master’s dagger, melted down to make you into the sovereign you have always deserved to be…”

He pouts, dramatic and whining and most of all, fake, “A dagger for a crown?” Sighing, he turns quickly to capture you in his arms. “I’ll say, it is the only acceptable repurposing of a blade. You’re lucky I love you so much, if you’re going to be turning my weapons into jewelry…” He presses his lips against your neck, “But even a crown worthy of my handsome head won’t spare you from your own recompense.”

“For my loving disobedience,” you laugh, arching your neck to expose even more of your skin. “And perhaps, you should open your second gift, my love, before you settle on any ideas of exacting such delicious… retribution. Especially now that your chilled heart seems to have thawed.”

“Me?” he rasps into your ear, “cold? Chilled? Cheeky little pup… do you forget that my heart beats now, my skin warmed over as your ascended lord?”

“Hmmmm,” you sigh, “why don’t you open that second gift, a little something to help you embrace the spirit of your Yuletide present and future with me, your own… forever…”

“Oh,” he smirked, wicked and ravenous, “if you’re my gift… and all the many ways I can play with you, I doubt you’ll fit in any little box, darling.” he gave a loud giggle, “but I can imagine how festive you would look… all wrapped up in ribbon…”

You feel his hands wandering over your body, his touch seeping its warmth through the fabric of your dress as he does wrap you in arms and presses you against his unyielding body.

“My little treat, ready to be unwrapped once she’s been very… very… good to me,” he growls in your ear. Shivers racing down your spine as you giggle. Your stomach flips upside down, despite the months of this… of being his, forever. Your body still gives you away with each encounter.

And you grin like a lovesick fool, reaching to the table beside you for that second, smaller package.

He palms its wrapped sides in a single hand, the other remains clutched firmly around your waist with his hand curved hard over the swell of your ass. He smirks, dark and playful, as he bites into the end of the bow and tugs the black silken ribbon apart with those gleaming fangs. The silk slides, no resistance as the bow comes apart in his mouth.

You know that feeling all too well. Of coming apart at the command of those teeth or lips or tongue… You love that feeling. Crave that feeling.

He lets it drop from his teeth to flutter to the floor, a finger flicking open the top of the box to fall to the same fate. Then his brows furrow, he lips drawing in a smile so wide, those perfect teeth glint in the flickering warmth of the firelight.

“My, my…” he purrs, lifting his touch from your backside to fish out the gift within.

It’s coiled, wrapped around itself, this long strand of thick and smooth, a long velvet ribbon, as crimson as his own eyes.

“Perhaps our minds are shared more than the bond formed when you made me, my love,” you taunt, a lilt in your voice as you press into him harder, letting the curves of your breast flatten, the panting of your belly push into his. “Now… are you going to finally let that cold, beating heart of yours be melted by Yuletide warmth?”

He cocks a brow, tilting his crowned head at that rakish angle, hand returning to claw around the base of chin. That free set of eager fingers slipping the gifted ribbon from the box. You gasp as those fingers pull you against his lips. He sucks and caresses with all the hunger that flares under his touch and behind his eyes. “I think I’d rather watch you melt, watch you puddle on my fingers and come when I say, my consort, beloved but also naughty.”

“Sounds like you’re burning to use your gifts, my love…” you growl between his lips. “My lover with the warm touch and the ice in his heart, a bit different than before, my love….” You rake your nails into his hair. “Now I can make you warm all over.”

He chuckles, his grasp easing around your throat, winding to the back of your neck to tilt you open for his tongue all the more. “Sounds like you’re missing that icy touch of your undead rogue, my treasure,” he snaps in return, biting down on your lower lip just enough to draw blood.

“And what are you going to do to remedy that?” you reply, a little moan coloring your voice as his hands begin tearing off your clothes.

“Shh, shh, shh,” he taps his thumb over your swollen lips. “Not a sound, not if you wish to earn my forgiveness, and perhaps receive a little sort of gift of your own in return…” you shudder in his arms, the only reply needed for him to flash you that feral, twisted grin. “Then lay down, my love, and warm yourself by the flames of the fire.”

A hand tugs apart the last laces from your dress, sliding the sleeves from your shoulders. “Oh, and you won’t be needing any of that now…” Your silken gown becomes a silken puddle around your feet. Your skin turns to gooseflesh as he scores his nails down your sides. He snaps his gift, your velvet ribbon, between his hands. “Get comfortable, my treasure, while you still can…”

His gaze scalds you, intensity beyond even your expectations. He is about to enjoy this… and you are too.

He lets you settle on the puddle of furs, the thick white skin of some animal that lines the floor before the fire. Back turned on you, he busies himself at the table of sweets and punch, the clatter of dishes enough to make you smile; he is indulging. You lounge, letting the light flicker over your flesh, letting the fire warm your skin, a cascade of heat over your back and shoulders and ass. One that almost rivals the heat that puddles and pools between your folds.

“Hurry,” you mewl, rubbing your thighs together. “I’m burning for you…”

“Don’t worry, my greedy pet,” he snickers from the table of refreshments, his back to you, purposefully hiding just what he is busying his hands with. You hear the silver spoon stirring the bowl of punch, the clatter of metal and the clacking of ice cubes as he chuckles to himself. “I’m confident there are many ways to cool that lust in your veins, darling.”

He turns slowly, his face leering at you, you see why he has suddenly begun a low rumbling laugh in his chest, a small glass holds a few of the cubes of ice, your velvet ribbon hangs over his wrist, and his eyes glow with that simmering power that crawls beneath his skin. Stalking towards you, you flash him your own fanged smile, running your fingers through the lush fur that cradles your naked form.

Astarion steps over you as you lie on your back, settling down to straddle your belly, making you work for every breath beneath his weight. “Now, for the toughest decision, just what sense to control as your reparation for such a willing… if loving… transgression.” He sets the ice down at his side, the silk of his breeches strained taught with his arousal as he covers you with his body. “Do I take away your sight to awaken all your other senses, do I gag that pretty little mouth of yours to make your screams deeper and richer… or do I bind your hands and make you crave only my touch for your release.”

He trails the soft, fluttering edge of the ribbon up and down your belly, your eyes following it, drawn to the way it makes your gaze flicker to his own straining cock. You snigger, gripping your nails shamelessly into his hips, running them down his thighs hard enough to score his flesh. Stopping only once you cup that erection you crave.

“I guess that seals your fate, my love,” he licks his lips, gripping your offending hands by the wrists to stretch them overhead. The velvet caresses your skin, soft and cool as he snugs it around you, tethering them together and binding them around the leg of the chair nearest you.

It wouldn’t hold you captive, not for real, but this… this was for fun… delightful divertisment to help him rekindle his… festive spirit.

And as he leans over you, satisfied with the work of his skilled fingers to bind your hands above your head, you moan when he slips his legs between yours. Prying you wider, grinding that confined erection against you, the slippery feel of his silken pants soaking with your arousal.

Wet and warm before the fire, every nerve ignites under his attention, flaming with your need to have his skin against yours. “Seems unfair,” you try to whine as your voice ripples more as a whimper, “for me to be so… unwrapped and ready for you to enjoy.”

“You’re going to have to beg and plead more sweetly than that, my darling,” he smirks against your whining mouth, capturing it with his. You taste the burst of flavors on his tongue, the sweet and spices of the punch, his tongue cool in your mouth from having imbibed it.

Just like old times. You shudder and moan to feel it tangle with your own, that flavorful concoction, the tingle of alcohol spiking your senses. “Mmm, delicious,” you moan against his fangs.

“Not as delicious as it will be as I taste you, my pet. Be a good little consort, plead so prettily, and you’ll get everything you desire tonight.” He gives a little extra, hips undulating into your slick, his breeches undoubtably ruined by your arousal. You groan at that ferocity, that untamable hunger. And you, you buck your hips to ride that friction. You give him what he wants, a loud mewl of your pleasure to tickle his punch-coated tongue.

“Very good,” he smirks, raising back to his knees. “I’d ask you to help me…” he taunts, rubbing his hand down the front of his decadently embroidered jacket, slowly letting his buttons free one at a time. “… but you seem already… tied up…”

“Oh, you must be feeling merry to throw such taunting puns at me, my love,” you smile.

“Hush, love,” he grins wickedly, tossing that jacket to the side, the firelight dancing over his ivory skin, rippling over all the rises and ridges of his torso. “Or if you insist on that insolent mouth teasing me, I might just have to find something with which to gag you.”

You smirk, hungry and defiant, as you stick out your tongue. A taunt. And an invitation.

“If you wish,” he growls happily, hands quick to unbutton his breeches. A split second, and he frees that cock, drips of his seed already seeping from its tip. You keep your tongue dangling as he scoots forward straddling your shoulders, until your mouth has nothing more to do than let him in.

With a groan, he thrusts into that familiar wet. Head thrown back, but not so far as to risk that magnificent crown to tumble off. He’s slow, languorous, savoring the way you’ve taken him so well. “Such a good little consort, earning your penance and more…” One hand knots in your hair at the crown of your head, the other you can’t see.

But you hear his movements, that dull clank of ice cubes on glass. And suddenly, you gasp, that frigid cold in his invisible grip, trailing its cold up your thigh. He’s so quick, his face scrutinizing your slacked mouth as he continues to fuck your throat, a twist of total delight on his lips as you shiver.

That is your only warning, the only inkling of his devious intentions before he slips that cube of ice between your folds. His mouth grins so wide, you see every tooth, his pleasure cemented as he thrusts between your moaning lips. Your body fights against his pinning weight. Thrusts begin to accelerate, timed with the swirls of that ice as he circles faster over your clit.

You feel the water beginning to drip, same as your slick, and your body shudders, heated by the fire and his body, frozen between your thighs as he still sweeps the melting ice through your seam.

Wave after wave consumes you, total swept away by the play of hot and cold, the merry dance of ice and fire that crashes through your body. It makes your buck and writhe, panting and choking on his cock between your cheeks. He withdraws a bit to let you savor your pleasure, pouring those praises over you once more, “Perfect, my treasure, coming for me so hard and beautifully.”

He chuckles, stroking his fingers through your long hair, lifting your head for a few really slow, really deep thrusts. Ones that you curve your tongue around and suck hard until you gag.

“Yes…” he growls, taking his cock back in his hand as he withdraws it from your now swollen lips, “good girl, so delicious… I’m sure you’ve learned your lesson of loving disobedience.”

“Savored the fruits of it, more like…” you grin, sultry, desirous, licking your lips clean of his juices that have already snuck out to coat your lips, your tongue.

That ice, so much smaller already, skates up your mound, your belly, settling it in your navel. “Astarion,” you screech as he leaves it there, as the chill settles over where you crave the heat and weight of pelvis, where you wish for him to crush you and fuck you.

“So greedy, little love,” he purrs. “And isn’t I who should be the greedy one? Denied any semblance of Yuletide joy for so long?”

“Then be… greedy… be naughty, and I will be very, very nice,” you giggle, deep in your throat as you watch him sliding down to settle between your burning thighs.

But not before he sneaks another ice cube from the cup. You lose track of it… until he grins with his mouth spread wide, his gleaming teeth biting down on that piece of ice, shining like crystal in the firelight. You shiver in anticipation. Waiting, watching for just what he might do next.

Angling down agonizingly slowly, his eyes lock into yours, his mouth aiming that fragment of ice for your already straining taught nipples. You scream again, bucking and writhing as the cold shoots right through you, racing down your every nerve. He laughs, taking that cube back inside his mouth, swirling that ice-cold tongue now over your flesh, sucking it hard between his lips.

“I will be undone, my love…” you groan, arching under his tongue.

“That’s the point,” he laughs darkly taking out that cube to rub over your other aching nipple as he teases and toys with it, “be undone before you’ll be… unwrapped, my darling.”

It steals your breath, making you writhe and tug against your binds as you feel every shiver down your spine consuming every sensation. Then he sets the ice, nearly gone back in your navel.

Heavy-lidded, Astarion licks his lips, dragging his tongue over his fang, announcing his next desire loud and clear.

“Hungry? Then get to it, greedy love,” you squirm and squeal as he gives a bite on your breast, just enough to bring a little blood to the surface. “Hgnf,” you groan as he drinks from you, those little hums and noises he makes as he feeds bring even more arousal pooling between your thighs.

You feel his cock hardening even more, as if that was possible, the union of your bloods, that tremor down your bond as he feeds from you, chin red with your essence. It makes him grind against your mound, cock twitching, a mind of its own to find that wet and clenching pressure he craves more than anything.

You feel that slow undulation, the tip of his length slipping into your folds, teasing just an inch inside you. The chair above your head scrapes across the floor, the ribbon snapping as you struggle against your binds. “Please,” you beg, “free me. I want you… I need you.”

“And why should I release you early?” he asks, barely raising his head from the pillow of your breast as he still laps at your blood. Eyes closed. As if he is too preoccupied to watch your agony. Even though you feel his smiling lips against your skin. “Just what would you do… if… I set you free?”

“Touch you…” you pant, feeling his cock dipping in and out again, shallowly. But he stills, unsatisfied.

“And?” he goads, slowing his tongue, eyes flickering up briefly at last.

“Cling to those powerful scars on your back, trace them since I know them all…”

Another dip inside your channel, slowly still but deeper as he withdraws equally slow.

“…and?” he smirks, licking his bloodied lips and chin.

You give a laugh, heavy with your need. “Clean your face from my blood, you messy thing…”

“Hmm,” he smirks wider, the lights catching in the red of his eyes as he scans your pale skin, where you pant and squirm beneath him. “Tempting, but…”

“Worship you,” you interrupt, “caress every inch of your ivory skin, grip hard into the clenching power of your ass as you fuck me… finally, run my fingers through your hair to keep that perfect crown on your perfect head…”

His lips twitch just once, a single arm reaching for that ribbon as the velvet release from your wrists. You groan, finally… finally touching him again, your voice rasping in your throat as he sheathes himself in fully. Already he commands a punishing pace, but you are so on fire for him, you crave it. You ride it all, legs wrapped tightly around his hips, your hands clutched into his hair, pinning that crown in place.

A good thing too, his body shaking as he loses all his control. His rhythm is feral and driven, giving no regard to anything other than filling you with his cock and making you burst with his cum. But he watches, arms pressed into the floor as his eyes drink in that sight of you. The way your bosoms sway, coated in his spit and your blood as they glisten in the soft light. The way your eyes lock into his, flickering every now and then to watch the way his pale cock spears harder and harder into you.

You snicker, a wicked idea in your head as you glance to the last cube of ice in the glass. “You wouldn’t dare…” he groans inside your head. But it’s too late. You’ve already snagged that chilling, hard lump, tracing it down the planes of his belly as you reach between you.

“Oh, I would…”

You have to be quick, but he lets you… his flawless reflexes could stop you… if he wants.

But instead he just groans so loudly as you press that ice at the base of his cock. Caressing whatever length of him doesn’t thrust inside as he fucks.

He shivers, his arms shaking as he lowers down on top of you. That crown falls into the furs at your side, but he doesn’t care. His mouth devours yours, his grunts and pants as you bring him to climax deafen you, reverberating inside your mouth.

And as the melting ice drips to your seam, you follow him into that wave of pleasure. Heat and ice, fire and cold blast through your bodies. His thrusts are merciless, slamming hard against the end of your channel, the pain adding to the heady mix that steals your breath and sends his name screaming from your lips.

He stills inside you, your greedy walls squeezing out the last of his cum, working against the twitching pulses of his cock. Resting his hot, damp forehead in the nook of your shoulder, he struggles to catch his breath. Nuzzling closer, you feel his warmth saturating your flesh, your arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders as he lays on you and in you.

“I… should thank you, my love,” he whispers, that tenderness he saves for your ears alone. “You never give up on me, never allow me to remain trapped, haunted by those ghosts of my past… however tormenting they may be. You have… done more than make my heart to beat again, to teach me how to love again. For centuries, at this time of year… I wanted nothing more than to take one of those stalks of holly and ram it like a stake through… his heart.”

Cazador’s. He won’t say it. Can’t say it.

“But with you, perhaps it is something just the two of us may… enjoy. To savor…”

“My love,” you whisper, placing a kiss into those silken, gleaming silver locks, “you don’t need to use Yuletide as a reason to wrap me up in pretty ribbons.”

“It is rather pretty, isn’t it?” he chuckles as he raises his head, “not as magnificent as this, however…” His hand closes around that metal circlet, replacing it crookedly on his silver hair. On that head made for a crown. “Seems like you’ll need one of your own, my little consort.”

“I’m open to all sorts of gifts from you…” you purr, catching his chin to bring his mouth to yours.

“Perhaps you need me to give it to you again, my darling?” he speaks into your lips. “Another lesson for me in finding the warmth of Yuletide? I might still feel a bit frozen in the heart, if you’re not thorough, you know…”

“Avernus would freeze over before I abandon you to such a fate, gods bless it…” you catch his lips in your mouth, a good long suck in that thick lower one as you nip it gently in your fangs. Tasting the richness of his blood, the thrumming of his power that rides his essence.

“Then gods bless it,” he growls, hand catching tightly around your chin, a slight drag of his still hardened cock inside you, “every time.”

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

gif by @r66dus

RJ: Is Santa the only person with a naughty and nice list?

Carol, setting the table: I suppose so.

RJ, beaming: Yay! Uncle Daryl is Santa!

Y/N, chuckling: Why do you say that, RJ?

RJ: Cause he was telling you what a bad girl you’ve been last night!

Y/N: …

Daryl: …

Y/N: ……..

Daryl: …….

Carol, trying to speak through laughter: This is the best gift ever.

💚Happy Holidays❤️

[sweatandwoe]

Scrooge eating pussy you say 👀

yes I do say

Tags: MDNI, Scrooge x Fem!Reader, Scrooge eating pussy, face-sitting, boss/employee relationship, implied other stuff, implied feelings, that's it, that's the fic

clarification: I haven't watched this movie, he's just hot

-

"You're making quite the mess you know."

You're not doing this correctly if he can talk like that, with you hovering over his mouth. Glancing down, you can see those blue eyes staring up at you. And it's true, there is quite a mess running over the bottom half of his face.

"I can't help it."

Hands rise to curl around your thighs, tugging you down closer. Scrooge's voice is tart but there's warmth in it too."I can't have a maid that makes messes. That wouldn't be proper."

Fingers move into his hair. You sometimes forget you were still supposed to come in and clean. Supposed to.

Lately, it has always divulged into something like this instead of proper work though.

Your knees settle on either side of his head, lowering yourself fully before he can speak again. Something he approves of from the groan he gives, and only further confirmed from the half-lidded gaze he fixes you now. Hands dig into the meat of your thighs, while his tongue drags along your cunt.

A gasp rises out of your throat. Your free hand digs into the headboard, and you give a slow roll of your hips down against his face. From the way his fingers dig harder into your thighs, attempting to pull you even closer, you'd say he approves of it.

It's that small encouragement that is all it takes for you to start grinding against his face. Using his nose as leverage against your clit, while he groans up into you. Your forehead rests on the cool headboard after a few more moments, and both hands move down to grip his head while you rub yourself over him, chasing after your pleasure.

When you cum, you can feel him licking at your slit. Lapping you up like a fine meal while you ground yourself against him, gasping and moaning out his name.

You roll off, panting and gasping, your face flushed, and sweat beading on your forehead. A quick glance at him shows he is in a similar state. His hair is a mess and his cheeks are red, but he's grinning. You hadn't seen him this happy in ages, and yet a quick roll with you, he'd be far more relaxed and even smiling at people.

It was a little unnerving still sometimes.

The realization and the implication that your boss just really that intimacy wasn't lost on you, so maybe that's why you had continued to let him do it. Or maybe it was because he simply made you feel good.

There's a horrible amount of mess along his face still too, that even his nose is shining in the evening light. His gaze flicks to you before he's rolling to crawl over. Hiking up your skirts again, he tuts. "Such a mess. I'll have to show you how to properly clean up." His tone is full of mirth, while he lowers his head between your legs once more. His eyes gleam with greed when he eyes your slit once more. "And I will show you, my dear, even if it takes all night."

You have an odd feeling you'll both be messy by the end of the night. And that like the night before, you won't be returning to your shabby apartment. His arms will envelop you, holding you tight once you're both spent.

In his arms, with him snoring behind you, you know the truth of it. Something he won't say, out of his own fears, so you simply rest your hands on his own.

It's a truth you're starting to share too. And someday, you might be even able to tell him.

Because you know he won't ever say those three words first.

[monarchofwings]

Twst A Christmas Carol event with the NRC boys but the whole event is just the boys screaming in terror as the Christmas spirits give them more trauma then any overblot ever would because the Christmas spirits are scary as hell

[nahoney22]

Outcast (part 1/2)

Ebenezer Scrooge X F!Reader

word count: 3.8k

• Gif is mine, please credit if used •

After sitting back and holding your tongue about the way your boss goes about business, one Wintery night left you feeling rather frosty.

warnings: SFW, confrontation, Scrooge is a meany, reader is female and is wearing a dress, employee and boss relationship, mention of debtors, fluff at the end 😚 no use of y/n and not proofread ✍️

A/N sometimes it’s good to stray away from the Star/Clone Wars fandom for a bit and since my new obsession is this film, I couldn’t help myself

Masterlist

Part one | Part two

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙

Another year, another harsh winter. Maybe even more harsh than the last.

Painful pellets of cold snow blister along your features as you walk to your oh-so-lovely work in the early hours of the morning.

Luckily your hat managed to prevent the snow from blinding you completely so you could make out the outline of the Scrooge and Marley building where you had both the fortunate and unfortunate life of working there. Fortunately, it was a means of work so you were occupied, getting paid for something other than being a housemaid or someone who worked in a sweated industry. Supposedly being a secretary wasn’t all too bad yet the unfortunate side… was your boss. Ebenezer Scrooge.

Speaking of which, he was sitting in his office already upon your arrival. His door was closed and you spotted through the small window that he seemed to be in a heated discussion with whoever was on the other side.

At least you had enough time to hang up your coat and hat, brushing off any snow that dusted your clothing before checking the books. You turn to say a quick hello to Bob but frown to see the friendly faced clerk was nowhere to be seen. That is until the door to Scrooge's office bursts open and Bob appears with his face the same colour as his hair. Red.

“Bob? What is it?” You asked worriedly, watching him walk to the coat stand and wrap his scarf around his neck before slamming his hat on his head.

He inhaled a deep sigh and went to open his mouth but stopped when the sound of floorboards creaking interrupted him.

You both turn your heads, looking to see Scrooge stood there with his head high, chest puffed out and hands behind his back. “Still here Cratchit? I was certain I had told you to go to the factory to collect more ink.”

You blink and a frown crosses your features. “But sir, an order came in just last week? It will take Bob three hours to walk all the way there?” You even went ahead to check the books to see if you were correct but Scrooge had already snatched it out of your grasp before you could even flip the page.

“Yes we did. But Cratchit here has a habit of spilling every drop he can.” He gives you a stern look as you slowly pull your hand back, finding his gaze sometimes hard to look at. Especially when he was in one of his moods which gets a little more testy around this time of year. “And in doing so, he has now sacrificed a week's pay.”

With your eyes widening at the seemingly unfair punishment, you look back at your friend whose chest was heaving. Never had you seen him so angry. There was no kinder spirit than Bob Cratchit; a loving man with a just as loving family. You wish you could say the same about a certain someone.

“Sir, I’ll get ill if I go out there in this weather!” He gestures to the window, the snowfall being heavier than usual and you couldn’t even begin to tell him how slippy the pavements are at this time in the morning. “I need to work for my family, my boy. H-he’s ill.”

Your heart panged with sadness as Bob tried to plead with your boss, eyes watering just slightly.

“Well, if you get sick and you need the week off I will allow it. But then you’ll be sacrificing two weeks worth of pay.” He chuckles almost darkly, a daring look on his face as if to say ‘defy me and reap the consequences’.

The shock at his words made you audibly gasp, causing Scrooge to look at you with a questioning glance but all you can do is scoff and shake your head.

He had been cold towards you both in the past but this was taking the cake significantly.

It was a shame, really. Sometimes you did not even mind your boss and had come across his sensitive side maybe once or twice… or just the once. It was the perception of the townspeople that typically swayed one’s opinion on another and he just so happened to have a negative one. Granted he was not so popular yet was all at the same time. To which was a misfortune since you had spent many a time (although you would have thought it was little until Bob pointed it out one day) that you would find yourself gazing at Scrooge in his office. Simply imagining what it would be like to give him just a touch of tenderness as you caressed a hand over his bristled cheek. After all, he was quite a handsome man.

Then, what may be a foolish idea at first, you head straight into his office, ignoring his protesting and swipe up some shillings from his desk.

“What do you think you’re doing? How dare you steal money from me!” You ignored him, purposely brushing past him with the skirt to your dress following swiftly behind and gesture for Bob to stick his hand out.

As he does, you pour the money into his tattered gloved hand. “This is my week's pay. I would like you to have it.”

“Ma’am, I couldn’t possibly-.” He goes to protest, ready to give it back but you closed his hand firmly.

“Yes you can. One of us here has a family and it is not me and it is not Ebenezer,” you glance over your shoulder to gauge your boss's reaction, none short of furious, “you need this. I also do not wish for you to go to the factory as we have plenty of ink in stock here. Go home and get warm. We will see you tomorrow.”

After so many months of sitting back and allowing Scrooge to talk down to folk, you had finally lost your resilience and had to do the right thing. Truthfully, you wish you had done something earlier but who were you to interject in your bosses affairs and clients? However this was aboout Bob; a friend.

So many had left this office with their faces as white as snow, tears streaming down their cheeks and silent sobs bursting from their chests when Scrooge had either denied them money or charged more than they owed. It made you wonder, how many people went hungry that night because of the man you worked for.

Surprisingly, the young man did not even bid a farewell to his boss as he left. You watched him leave into the snow and let out a relieved exhale but your small shift of happiness diminished when you felt a cold presence behind you and it wasn’t from the brief chill that had blown in.

“Who do you think you are?”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, suppressing your laugh of disgust before you finally turn to face him, chin up. “Is something the matter?” Feigning an innocence.

Scrooge's fists clenched by his sides, eye twitching. “How dare you dismiss my staff. How dare you go into my office without my permission, may I add, and pay your wage to them.”

You shake your head at him. “And how dare you almost dismiss him to his death. Do you realise how sick he could become if he made that unnecessary journey?” You move past him, taking Bob’s place on his small desk, shifting and tidying up his notes.

His jaw was so sharp and tight it could cut through paper and he had the nerve to laugh at your words. “His death? Please, he would have been fine.”

You pause the shuffling of some papers and stare right at him, almost through him. Your gaze was strong, powerful and one that almost made his knees buckle. Have you always appeared so fierce? A fire in the winter storm?

“How can you be so selfish?” Your words were slightly hushed. He couldn’t help but feel his face soften for just a mere moment. You didn’t even sound angry, just disappointed as if there was no chance of change for him. “So cruel? Do you get some kind of satisfaction of wanting to be an outcast all your life?” You continue, the flames of the candle by your left light up your eyes and for a second he wasn’t too sure if it was the reflection of the candle at all.

Your words stung, more than he thought they would have but granted, it was about some time someone was willing to put him in his place. He just didn’t think it would be his quiet secretary.

“That still does not give you the right to send Cratchit home. I need him to work today.” He ignores your harsh yet truth-filled words, fixing his shirt collar and tie as if someone had just had their hands round him and tried to knock sense into him.

“And I shall pick up the slack.” You grab yourself a quill and a small ink pot, making small adjusts to the paperwork.

Scrooge raises a brow and smirks a little. “You’re aware you have given up your wages for this week?”

You could almost hear the smirk on his lips without even looking. Feeling something nudge at your legs, you glance down to see Prudence rubbing uk agaisnt you, asking for pats which you gladly gave. “I am aware. I am also aware that given this disagreement and the mere fact you disagree with me helping my fellow colleague that my stuff will have to be cleared out come the morrow?”

He’s taken aback as you look his way once more. There’s no sign of sorrow on your face at the possibility of you losing your job, in fact it seemed that there was expectance.

A small whine from Prudence catches his attention, her puppy-dog eyes almost pleading him in a sense to let you stay.

Agitated, he runs a hand through his greying hair and stands straight with a small stomp of his foot. “I expect a full report of yesterday’s money-lending antics on my desk by the end of the day. I also expect a new order of five ink well pots to make up for the ones that had been spilt this morning.” Then he turns, and leaves through the archway of his office and closes the door behind him.

A wave of relief washes through you and you share a look with Prudence. “I know girl, I know.”

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙

When six o’clock draws near you almost cheer. Scrooge had not spoken a word to you since that morning which for some peculiar reason made the day appear longer than usual.

Every now and again, you would look up from your spot that is usually accompanied by Bob to glance through the window to Scrooge’s office, both horrified and curious to see him already looking back. Once your eyes had locked, he’d quickly look away and shake his head, mumble soemthing to himself and you curse yourself for not being able to read one’s lips.

You collect the reports as requested and make a stand. Your dress had crumbled a little so you straighten it out and rest your hands on hips to have an idle touch of your corset to make sure it was locked properly in place.

What you didn’t see was your boss stealing a glance your way again, his blood running hot and not because he was still angry from this morning. The second you turn back around and he just knew you were coming into his office he almost frantically tided up his desk the second you knock on the door.

“Come in.” He clears his throat, a quill in his hand as he scribbles a whole load of nonsense onto some parchment as if to look ‘busy’.

When you enter, you head straight to his desk and gently place your work of the day ontop

of a small pile already there and take a step back. “Is there anything else I can do before I leave tonight, sir?”

Obviously aware of your presence, he only now looks up at you. His room was dark already, lit by a few candles but you seemed to glow the most. Your face was neutral, soft to touch. He blinks out of his unwelcoming daze, almost disgusted at himself for finding something or someone nice to look at.

“No, that will be all. I expect you same time tomorrow.” He dismissed you with a wave of his hand. As you begin to leave, his curiosity got the better of him and stands to his feet and follows after you before you could leave. “W-wait. May I have a moment of your time?”

You were quite surprised how quick he was to catch up to you and even more surprised how he managed to stand in front of the buildings door before you could even reach the handle. Pausing, you give him a quizzing glance and rest your hands together over your stomach. “You may, Sir.”

“What you did today for Cratchit,” he begins, walking over towards the desk you were previously sitting at, finger trailing along the old wood, “what possessed you to do such a thing? It was not your money to give away.”

There was some shock that hit you that he was willing to discuss this morning again. But alas, you give him your answer. “If you were to hand me the money from your own hand it still would have been mine and regardless, I would have given it to him. He needs the money more than I do.”

He’s stunned but still confused. “And you do not need money? Does your husband, partner have a worthy enough income?”

For some reason you found yourself chuckling at his question and he instantly took offence. “What is so funny about that?”

“Forgive me, I am not laughing at the question. I am simply laughing because for all the time you have known me, you should have realised by now there is no ring on my finger.” You hold up your hand and of course, there was no jewel in sight.

To say the least, he was surprised that you were not for accounted for. “You have never been courted? I am… surprised.”

You shift a little, unsure how the topic of you giving Cratchit money was related to you being unmarried but by the look on his face, he genuinely seemed interested. It made you feel…odd. But in a good way. Maybe you telling him off today may have sunken in. And he’s surprised? You don’t know wether or not to blush but your cheeks naturally warm up anyway.

“If you are to put it like that then yes, I am. Unmarried and never been courted.” You sigh.

“Oh.”

You pull your lips into a tight smile and slowly nod. “So seeing as I only have to care for myself and not my husband nor children, I am stable enough to help a family man.”

“And if you are to go hungry?” He quizzes.

You hum in some kind of ironic amusement, tightening your coat around your body as you hear the wind pick up outside. “Then I will be the same with many of the rabble we take money from.”

He scoffed, thinking you were joking for a second but the look on your face said otherwise. “We do not take money. We lend the money to those in debt and catch them out when they can not pay it back. Their burdens are of their own consequences.”

“And so you must ask them for extra? Knowing they can not pay on time?” You don’t look to him as you speak, hoping to not start up another fight as you were about to leave. You were lucky enough to remain working here after this morning. “Again forgive me Sir, but I have been on the receiving end and during Winter, times are exceptionally hard.”

There was a hint of subtle emotion in your voice and you sigh, shaking it off and look over to him to see an unreadable expression. His eyebrows were furrowed, lips turned downward yet his eyes showed just a little something. Remorse? Guilt? You were unsure. What you were sure of however was that you wanted to get home and curl up in your lonely bed to get away from this cold.

“May I be excused for this evening?”

He closes his eyes, taking in all what you had said but felt conflicted in one’s self. Of course he thought what he was doing was right. People must reap of their consequences but your voice was telling him that one should not suffer because of them. “Yes, very well.”

He steps aside and actually opens the door for you, surprising you at the small gentlemanly notion. “Thank you Sir. Please be careful when walking home, it is rather slippy.” You mention as you step out the door, sliding on your gloves and inhale the crisp and bone-chilling air.

“Goodnight.” Ebenezer quickly adds as you begin to walking down the snow covered steps, pausing to look back his way.

“And to you.”

———

The sound of someone thumping against a wooden door frame was what brought you out of your work, gazing up to see your boss standing in the doorway to his office and looking at you. “Do you have a minute to spare?”

You carefully place your quill back in the ink pot, careful not to drop any spillages on your paperwork before making a stand. He steps into his office, you following and closing the door behind you. “Is everything okay?”

“Quite, yes. I-I’ve been thinking. All last night, I simply could not sleep no matter how hard I tried.” He sounded worrisome and you certainly hoped he had not fallen ill because of the weather. Even if it was a big fat ‘I told you so.’

“Oh Sir,” you walk towards him and hold your chilly hand to his head, completely freezing him and he was certain he didn’t freeze up because of how cold your hands were either, “are you ill?”

“No, ah - I,” he’s stammering awkwardlly, face flushed as you come close to him but gently moves your hand away from his face, “I wanted to express my apologies for how I acted yesterday. I was rude and unkind to my… best workers.”

“…We are your only workers, Sir.” You can’t help but blush and laugh softly. However, you were pleasantly surprised to hear him apologise to you - it was never like him to do so. Gods, did you manage to wear down the Ebenezer Scrooge?

He laughs a little and nods, rubbing the sleeve of his suit on his left arm. “Yes, yes that may be true but I was foolish yesterday. I have you to thank for making me realise how callous I behaved. Therefore, I have a gift for you. And for Cratchit when he returns to work.”

He piques your curiosity, watching as he stuffs his hand into his pocket and pulls out a small pouch and gesturing by the small jingle it held, that meant money. “I would like you to have this, as compensation for my behavior but as well as gratitude for your hard work.” He extends out his hand to where you hesitantly take his offering and almost gasp at how heavy it felt.

He could see you weighing it up in your hand and smiled as your eyes brightened. Clearly, so much relief had fallen from your shoulders. But before you can ask, he interjects quickly. “Fifty pounds.”

Your eyes, which were trained on the pouch, snapped up to meet him with your mouth agape. “F-fifty?”

“Yes.” He nods, holding onto each of the lapels to his dress suit, straightening it out as he stands proud. “And not to worry, Bob will receive the same amount.”

You couldn’t believe what was happening nor could you believe what you were about to do.

You step to the side and place the pouch onto his desk for a second and you could see in his eyes that he is about to question why you’re returning it but before he could open his mouth, your hands found the back of his neck as you pulled yourself in for a warm embrace.

Never had Scrooge felt his life freeze before his very eyes until this moment. He stiffens up like a plank of wood, hands extended to the side pathetically as he takes in the feeling of your chest pressed to his own and your chin resting on his right shoulder.

“Sir, I can not thank you enough. You have bestowed me with enough warmth, room and food for the remainder of Winter and upcoming Spring.” Your breath bristles against his neck, a warmth radiating him and ridding him of all the bad even if just for a mere moment. It sent waves of shock through him.

“W-well, that is quite alright.” Again, his hands stayed to the side. To hear you thank him however ignited the start of a small flame on a fire brewing inside him. Seeing how one person can act to such kindness made him wonder if the same could be said for all the others. “I hope it is a significant fund for you.”

You pull away from him yet your hands now rest on either shoulder, a sweet smile on your lips. “Oh Sir, it’s more than I could have ever asked for.”

He’s looking down at you, trying to ignore the odd sensation in his gut at the proximity. It was improper yet, he could not take his eyes away from you. “Please, call me Ebenezer.”

There was no taking back what you were about to do, but with your heart so full knowing you can live securely for the upcoming months with no hassle, you just had to thank him again.

On the tips of your toes you lean up and place a small lingering kiss to his cheek. Perhaps a little too close to the corner of his lips but as his hands immediately fly to your waist, fingers grazing against the boning of your corset underneath your dress you gathered it was welcome.

As you pull away, your eyes glimmered with innocence and you blushed as you see his eyes were closed, breath a little ragged. Once he opened up again to look at you, he’s breathtaken and you know that maybe it was time to step away.

“Thank you Si- Ebenezer,” as you take a small

step back, his hands had stilled at your waist causing you to stop for a moment, raising an amused brow until he clears his throat and finally lets his hands slip away, “my heart is full.”

He’s speechless, truly. Your lips still lingers on his skin, goosebumps trailing up his arms. As he goes to speak, nothing comes out. So instead, he gives you a smile and a nod of courtesy.

Maybe he will do something nice again for you in the future.

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙

[xxkiller-muffinxx]

Snowball fight

Pairing: Scrooge x reader

Summary: (Y/N) and Scrooge wind up in a Snowball fight

Word count: 779

Warnings:none just fluff

A/N: as my last fanfiction was a learning curve, I needed a little bit of a simple breather, so here's Snowball fight :)

The harsh air swept away most of the crowd, and (Y/N) was no exception to that rule, as she was waiting for her fiancé outside, and the cold air makes her shiver. She’s minding her own business when she heard a few kids playing. She looked over at them, and they’re throwing snowballs left and right. Including Tiny Tim, who’s doing better than ever after getting his medicine.

(Y/N) is so happy to see them having fun she doesn’t see the snowball heading toward her face. When it lands the kids gasp, and a few other kids laugh and cackle. (Y/N) wipes the snow off of her face, and adjusts her coat. She’s still for a moment when (Y/N) leans down, and grabs a snowball. “Don’t stop playing on my account!” (Y/N) throws a snowball at on of the children, obviously missing, and the other kids scream in excitement.

(Y/N) continues tossing the snowballs, and barely hits a few of the scattering children “(Y/N), what’s in the world are you doing?” a voice yells from across the warzone, the kids make an “oooo” sound while (Y/N) simply stops her movement entirely. She hopelessly rubs her foot against the ground, searching for a response.

Tiny Tim spoke up “she was just having fun Mr. Scrooge!” After he spoke to his sister, Katherine joined him. “Yeah! Maybe you should try it!” (Y/N) belted out a laugh and covered her mouth. Scrooge’s displeased expression causes (Y/N) mild dismay, but his smile returns as he looks back at you. “Alright alright. I’ll leave you to it, but if you have a cold you have only yourselves to blame!” He laughs while the kids cheer.

(Y/N) puts her hand in the snow, and the rest of the kids continue fighting while (Y/N) tosses a snowball Scrooge’s way. The unsuspecting Ebenezer flinched as the snow hit his chest. He wipes his coat, and (Y/N) feels dread wash over her. This was her decision however, and she was more than ready to face any consequences.

She watches Scrooge as he stares directly at her, his face molding into a mischievous one. He quickly leans down, and grabs some snow. Cueing (Y/N) to run and hide, but it’s too late, the snowball hits her shoulder. She counters with a snowball back at him. The children join in on either side, the war continuing.

Tiny Tim lands a hit of (Y/N) she gasps loudly, while Scrooge gently ruffles his hair in approval. (Y/N) grabs a snowball, but before she could throw it, she’s hit in the knee by another. So when she can, she takes the chance and throws the snowball hard at Scrooge, but in the process winds up slipping in the snow. Falling into it face first.

The snowball lands on Ebenezer’s face, his smile never fading. At least not until he sees (Y/N) in the snow. He goes over to her, while the kids move their game to keep playing in another area so they can’t hurt (Y/N) any more. She flips over as Scrooge approaches her, standing beside her limp body. “(Y/N)! Are you alright?” She’s speechless.

“(Y/N)?” He goes to kneel down beside her when her hand shoots up and drags him down with her. He grunts as he hits the ground. Lying next to (Y/N) as she cackles loudly at him. “You fell for the oldest trick in the book Ebenezer!” Her laughs die down as Scrooge sits up on his elbow to see her face better. “You’re wrong (Y/N), I fell for you.” He says with a dopey grin.

(Y/N) rolls her eyes at the cheesy joke, Scrooge places a ginger hand on her face. “You’re freezing, we should get going.” He moves to stand, but (Y/N) grabs his tie. She pulls him down to meet her face. “Not just yet, you look good in snow.” She pulls him into a kiss. Ebenezer responds in kind. Holding her face tenderly.

They hold eachother like that for a while, eventually needing to let go. (Y/N) gets help to stand from her fiancé, and Scrooge pulls her close. “I love you, (Y/N). Even if your a little childish.” (Y/N) snickers, fixing her dress and patting off snow. She takes his arm, and leans on his shoulder. “I love you too Ebenezer, and Merry Christmas.” She kisses his cheek.

The two of them continue down the road, and when (Y/N) sneezes Scrooge groans. (Y/N) did in fact get a cold that night. So did Scrooge.

[multi-fandom-imagine]

How would Scrooge react to a younger fem! Reader taking interest in him?

A/n: I’m gonna make these into Headcanons. I am so sorry. If you want a fic of this let me know, I’m just having some really bad writers block.

✨: Would 100% think you are speaking about his nephew, think it’s some kind of joke.

✨: Would try to avoid you at first, doesn’t believe. Does not want to believe a beautiful woman like yourself wants anything to od this him.

✨: Slowly starts to get used to seeing you more, especially after what he went through knowing someone else has their sight set on you.

✨:Is a bit stiff when he tries to woo you, he’s awkward too. The man hasn’t done this in years and even then he was still awkward about it.

✨: Isn’t used to having a young woman by his side, Scrooge rather enjoys when you hold onto his arm.

✨: Sweaty palms when it comes to asking you to marry him, he rather not lose you.

✨: Take him a little while to kissing you in public, you are a lot younger than he is and the man can’t help but feel like he doesn’t deserve you.

✨: You wearing him out a lot, Scooge isn’t used to all this sex.

[a-gal-with-taste]

Certainties & Mistletoe

Summary: Mistletoe, the only decoration the old bastard could bear to stand during the winter-months. You thought it harmless, simple and almost forgettable... but the event it causes, is anything-but.

Ebenezer Scrooge & F!Reader | 2469 Words | AO3

Part 2 | Part 3

Tags: Oneshot, mistletoe-troupe, humor, internal-thoughts, boss/employee relationship, pre-prelationship, first-kiss, pining (??), Scrooge being a grump (shocker), open-ended, haven't watched the movie, just think Scrooge is kinda-

A/N: I have. No excuse. But blame @sweatandwoe and Netflix anyways, because they had no rights, but caused this anyways.

Upmost in certainty, were these three facts:

One, that Ebenezer Scrooge was the richest man in this district of London.

Two, that Ebenezer Scrooge was the most miserable, selfish, cold-hearted miser in the district, possibly in the country, certainly within the distract.

And three, that Ebenezer Scrooge kissed sweetly enough, that one could nearly forget the prior two-facts.

Or, rather... the Master Ebenezer didn't exactly kiss you back. In fact he didn't little much of anything, and remaining-still as you pressed your own lips, delicate as the falling-flecks of white, to his.

Was it a mistake? Undoubtedly.

Foolish? Certainly, you could be out in a slum-house come tomorrow morning, dismissed in disgrace.

But, the mistletoe... oh, it was silly, but the it had looked so inviting! Berries casted soft glow in the nearby light of lanterns, spiked leaves untouched with frost.

The one-decoration the old bastard had enough paitence to withstand, and of course, it had been your demise. Like the temptation of the apple, like the god of hell-itself beckoning, you had almost been eager to lean-forth towards your doom.

Foolish, stupid, silly mistake, one that could ruin you.

And yet, you didn't pull back.

And neither did he.

From the moment you had spoken his name, soft as snow's first-fall on the porch, the sole movement Ebenezer managed, before you cupped a hand over a sturdy, well-trimmed cheek, stood high on the tip of your toes, and sealed your fate by pressing his lips to your own.

He had yet to pull back.

Yet to move entirely, speak, or... frankly, you feared he lost the ability to breathe.

Ironically, it was that fact that finally convinced you to retract from the man. Not the fact this was Master Scrooge, nor even that your future was as uncertain as a ship traversing through rock-laden waters onto certain doom...

But the fact that your simple kiss, had been enough to completely halt the miser entirely.

Heels kiss the ground in silence, as open your eyes to gaze at the looming man, who, indeed, was in some-sort of state of inanimation. More frozen than an hanging-icicle, your gaze flicked from an unrising-chest, tightly-pursed lips, eyes sightlessly staring-forth, and a distinct lack of pale-clouds emanating from mouth or nostrils.

One could almost fear the kiss had been enough to kill him.

You, however, always preferred being of the optimistic-sort, if a bit realistic.

Assuming the less-dire, you took another step back, and spoke as if Ebenezer was still residing well-into the land of conscious thought and reality, and not clearly miles-away in snowy clouds. "Forgive me, sir. That was a poor-choice, and you have my sincerest apology for my action, I... I have no excuse."

Well, there was one excuse. But you could hardly blame a decorative plant.

Speaking of it, though it was a bit of a strain, your fingers tugged the innocent, demonic little pest from the doorway free. The ribbon it was attached to fluttered simply to the ground, but you dared not stoop to pick it up - instead, placing the plant in the certain of your palm, you held it out between yourself and your employer.

A peace offering.

Though this was an event that was anything but peaceful, you still held out the offending object with a brief smile, one that wobbled at the corners. Not just with the shivers of your body, but with the slow-looming knowledge of what you had just done, and what it would cost you.

What was the price, of a simple kiss?

Scrooge, a most professional businessman, would surely be able to tell you. But he seemed rather strained with words, speech made entirely impossible even as life resumes within him, thank God...

He is able to blink. Twice, before his eyes dropped down to yours, than down to what was effectively, the murder-weapon of your current employment in your palm, before his mouth moved to form a single-word:

"What."

"I'm sorry," You said again, shaky smile fading, but the trembling of your lips moved instead to reside your voice. "I-i... there is no excuse. I can only offer an apology, which I do... I do so quite, quite heartily, Mister Scrooge."

Worrying at your bottom lip, your own eyes followed the same trajectory as his own. Darting from his unreadable, unblinking eyes, and those damning plump-red berries held aloft in your gloved-palm.

Something wet, almost burning in comparison to the winter's chill, began to prick at the back of your eyelids, before finally, large and dark-clad gloves decended down onto your hand.

Pinching the culprit between his fingers like a sixpence, when he raised it to eyelevel for inspection, you dropped your own gaze to settle down near the ground. You couldn't help noting how perfectly his boots gleamed in a somber-black, causing the snowflakes that fell upon it to be in a perfect outline.

A distraction. Welcomed, but you roused yourself from it to face reality, even if you kept your gaze well-averted.

"I shall pack upon the morrow, if it suits you," You whispered, words trapped on a small cloud of frigid air, and releasing near-silently between you both. "You shant see me again, Master Scrooge, if it is in your desire... I fear that is the minimal I can offer for my transgression. I'm sorry. P-please... please accept it, as my truest apology."

"... ahem."

You raised your gaze, now truly stinging with the weight of water at your lashes, but a singular blink was quick to ease them away. Despair faded, replaced by confusion at the... oddest expression on the face of Ebenezer Scrooge.

He had turned away from you, unsurprisingly. Perhaps he couldn't stomach the sight of such unruly behavior from an otherwise acceptable-maid, but had a rather fixated-attention on the small branch of green and red in his fingers.

And, apparently, on his collar.

He was adjusting it, clearing his throat periodically, as his attention remained averted from your own growing-bewilderment, and remained steadfast on loosening his tight-cravat.

"... Master?"

Another clearing of his throat. Without the guide of his facial-expression, you were unable to discern his exact emotions at this given-moment, but you deduced that it was a scoff of acknowledgement, and attempted to salvage yourself once-more.

"I... shall guess you will have me return-early, to do a days work before my final departure? Or shall I, perhaps, remain the evening so-as to prepare for my replacement on the morrow-"

Unlikely he would find-one willing enough to work for the miser, even with the steady-promise of coin, but it was a possibility quickly-forgotten with his sudden-snap, like a whip of words.

"What foolishness. You think I shall take-up the duster, the broom in your absence?"

You blinked. The dust had been nearly an inch-thick on your first day of working, you half-imagined the man didn't know such objects of cleaning existed. "I... I only thought-"

"-that I would discard a perfectly-suitable maid?  Bah, don't be absurd." You were not exempt from the trademark scorn that caused many in London to wince at the mere-mention of the name Scrooge, but it was... muted?

Certainly not softer, and lacking even the basics of kindness, but... you did not flinch. Only blinked, and quietly asked the man what he would like you to do now.

The dark, rich leather-gloves creaked as his pinched-fingers tightened sharply on the deep-emerald stalk. Silence reigned, in a muted-world where little existed, save for the soft-falling snow, the two of them, and the mistletoe in his grasp.

Then, after another strange clearing of his throat, Scrooge brought words into the small, trapped-reality the two of you shared.

"What would like, is for you to go home," He commanded sharply. "And ensure my coin is put to good use, by arriving back here on the morrow, on-time."

You blinked. "You... would like me to return? Even after-"

"Was it not what I said?" Ebenezer interrupted, voice even sharper than before... no. Now it bordered on shrill, something choked. "You certainly won't be if you were to catch a chill, a likely consequence if you were to remain-out any longer on this night."

It's a dismissal, but one that barely registers until he jerks his head back, briefly facing you with the gesture.

The sight of cheeks, dusted in a deep-pink besides his well-trimmed salt-and-pepper sideburns, is enough to make you blink. Certaiy, the chill is enough to coax a darker-shade onto one's skin, and you know that you have some frost-nipped skin of your own, but Scrooge's shade was enough to worry you.

Others might dance a jig at the thought of old Ebenezer Scrooge catching a chill, long-standing karma being served at last, but a burst of worry still resides within you.

The thought of ailment or illness befalling the gentleman, even if that gentleman was Scrooge, was enough to grant you concern at the sight of reddened-cheeks. Emotion outfitted sense, as you stepped forward. "Sir, are you quite well-?"

"Go home," He snapped, the sound harsh and reverberating through gritted teeth. More akin to a growl of a hunter than man, causing you, the prey, frozen in your steps with wide-eyes. "I hardly plan to pay you for remaining later-hours, and I will still expect you upon the morrow without delay. It would be, in your upmost best interest, to leave."

A dismissal.

Ebenezer Scrooge was... letting you off, with only a dismissal.A mere be-gone for the evening, no different than any other you have received in the days-past, if a little more scornful than the rest.

You'd be a fool not to take this gift, perhaps the only the old bastard could provide - absolution, an escape from this humiliation transgression.

You would be a fool not to take it. Yet, you're the kind of fool to hesitate.

Not long - you don't have a death-wish, despite recent actions may otherwise suggest - but after another moments' pause to study the man, you hesitated curstied in obedient politeness, gathering your skirts high-enough to step down the ice-slick porch-steps.

You had little fear of falling, having traversed this walk on the daily, but some part of you felt quite uncertain.

As if the axis of the world has shifted, in some form or the other, and you walked down the steps with uncertainty of what exactly it was.

And how different your world would look, come morning.

For the moment, longing to remain in normalcy, you turned and called back your quiet, routine salutations to the Master - or rather his back. He had yet to face you fully.

"Good-night, Mister Scrooge."

Stepping down the lane with a tug of your shawl tighter around you, the streetlamp you pass-by offers temporary warmth, refuge from the uncertainty and the unsteadiness beneath your feet...

"Good-night."

... which became only more unsturdy beneath your heels, at the sound of Ebenezer Scrooge, the most miserable man in town, wishing you a good night.

Unheard of.

Inconceivable.

The gentleman had never provided you with a pleasantry in all the time you've known him, and yet now, it's offered in a way that could almost be described, daresay, as soft.

A sharp turn, harsh pivot, that miraculously doesn't send you sprawling onto the ice-slick path, but it's too late. The click of the cane on cobble is enough to signal his retreat, and the sight of his back, shawl catching on a snowy-breeze, is enough to confirm his escape before you can question it.

Before you can question if it had even happened at all, or if the snow-filled wind carried words as well as ice.

Perhaps you had fallen into madness - surely, the only true explanation for your lapse in good-sense in the first-place.

It was a more pleasing thought, than whatever it could possible mean that Scrooge felt the urge to offer a nicety after such transgression, and one you worked-steadfast of to convincing yourself at, all the way to your small apartment several blocks over.

It was the one-comfort you found, once dressed and tucked beneath your sheets. The solace was well-suited for your buzzing mind, the delusion that his parting-words were merely something of illusion enough to send you into a restful-sleep.

So restful, that you quite nearly forgot the incident entirely upon return to the waking-world.

Certainly, the motification remained in regards to your own-actions, which you were certain had occurred in reality. There came moments when your lips seemed to recall a soft, unfamiliar presence when memories returned of the incident, ensuring you did not forget it.

Apology, one in daylight and well-rehearsed to display true remorse, was well in-order.

You also suspected such would put your mind to ease. While the gentleman had seemed keen to erase the moment in the minutes-following, you resigned to put the event of transgression well-out of your mind, as well as the impossibility of good-night that had followed, and an assurance that such behavior would never transpire-again.

Closing the chapter entirely, and forgetting it's contents.

Including the one where you imagined Ebenezer Scrooge, of all people, wishing you a good-night.

Absurdity!

Such fantasy was only liable and expected to be forgotten entirely, in order to move-forward in life. And when you stepped into his buisness the following-morning, you had intended to do just that. Begin to forget the fact that you had kissed Ebenezer Scrooge, and in response, he had bid you good-night.

That had been your plan.

Your first-step towards normalcy, the first stride back into stability, and you had taken it into his office with an optimistic smile hinting at your face, as you pushed open the door.

Your plan to move-past the incident was foiled immediately, when you opened the door to the man's office.

Catching sight of that same accursed sprig of spiked-green and perfect red-berries, atop Mister Ebenezer Scrooge's otherwise entirely plain-desk, and settle in a filled-glass of water.

Preserving the event with it's allowed continued existence.

And once-more shifting reality into realms uncertain, when steele-blue raise from endless inspection of the cut-plant, to entourage gaze in an examination of equal-intensity.

The gaze neutralized. Becoming safely familiar, even as the words that followed, were not.

"Good morning."

And you realized, it would not be so-easy to return to what reality had been. Before the night prior where you had taken the apple, the hand-to-hell, in the form of following the practice of mistletoe.

Because, there was now no possibility to return from when-once-you-came.

A fact solidified, when you opened your mouth, and whispered in-repeat words you never thought such a miserable man was capable of saying to you...

"Good morning."

... but the fact that he did, was a fact that confirmed that change was here, like the days' fresh-blanket of cool snow upon the city of London.

A change refreshing, despite the uncertainty it held for the winter ahead.

[togrowoldinv]

I’ve been thinking all day about insisting that Carol puts on a holiday sweater and then calling her “A Christmas Carol” all day 🎄

[the-iceni-bitch]

𝓑𝓪𝓻𝓮𝓯𝓸𝓸𝓽 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓦𝓲𝓵𝓭𝓮𝓼𝓽 𝓦𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻, 𝓒𝓪𝓽𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝔂 𝓓𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓱

Relationship: ex!Carol Danvers x female!reader

Words: ~500

Summary: Christmas never felt so blue.

Warnings: grown up words, ANGST! angst angst angst

A/N: I’m still in my feelings, guys. This is super short but I still feel like it ripped my heart out a lil bit. I feel like this was the same couple I wrote in this ask, so I’m just apologizing off the bat for the misery in here.

I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all my latest fics, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications.

Your house doesn’t feel like home anymore.

You lit the candles Carol bought you, you hung her stocking on the mantle, but still you feel so cold. The space under the tree for her gifts is empty since you couldn’t bring yourself to wrap them. They are all still in the chest in the attic where you always hide them and you think they will have to stay there for a while. Maybe someday you will send them to her. She already took everything else with her when she left. You just want to hold on to something of hers a little longer. You wanted to make her happy and you still don’t know why you couldn’t.

Next month you think, you hope you can pack everything up. All of the ornaments you picked out together. All of the memories you made and your plans for the future. The songs that Yelena played for you when you sat in front of the fire while she told you why she loved each one. Since she loved them you loved them too. You could have listened to her tell you about every tiny thing she loved for hours, and now you’ll never get to hear her voice again.

The gingerbread you baked together tastes like nothing. You cannot eat anything, it all tastes like grief. You stare at the plate as you sit in what was you chair, holding the blanket that still smells like her and ignoring the pain of hunger in the pit of your stomach.

Your anguish is overwhelming but still you want her again. You can’t bring myself to plead or beg, but if she showed up at your door and said it was all a mistake you would welcome her. You were willing to work on it then and you’re willing to work on it now. You just want to hear her voice. You want her to talk to you instead of shutting you out. You know you made mistakes but if she loved you the two of you could have fought through it. Why wasn’t she willing to fight for you? Were you not worth it?

She said you should have known that it was coming. Two days before your heart broke you and Carol were smiling and laughing, making tinsel crowns and taking Polaroids together, but you should have known. Maybe you did, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

Everything is hers. Pretending otherwise is futile. She touched everything in this house so you can’t even bear to look at it anymore. The tree and the lights and the decorations you put up make your vision go blurry. So you gaze out the window at the falling snow and let your thoughts go as silent as the white world outside while ignoring your own miserable company. The new year could come and go, and still you would sit in your chair, alone and empty. There was nothing to celebrate without her.

[wilson-the-gay-oncologist]

Cuddle Time! Ebenezer Scrooge X GN! Reader

(Learning How to write gender-neutral because I can only write male readers...)

"Y/N, what is it that you're doing?" Scrooge gave you a look of confusion which looked so sweet and adorable, "Getting ready for cuddles." You piled the pillows onto the bed and smirked.

"Y/N, cuddles?" His face was so full of confusion, you and he didn't usually have cuddle sessions, and never on Christmas Eve. "Come on you big baby!" Scrooge sighed and found comfort in your arms.

You sat next to him and watched as Prudence jumped onto the bed. You pulled out a book and the man smiled, "Y/N," he murmured, sleep crowding his eyes and his voice. "Hmm?" You stopped reading the book aloud and raised an eyebrow, "Merry Christmas," he whispered passing out with his head on your chest.

"Merry Christmas Ebenezer," You blew out the candle and sighed "Merry Christmas."

And to all a good night.