#deck the halls...or maybe the neighbor

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Christmas Reruns 2024–Day 19: Deck the Halls…Or Maybe the Neighbor

Merry Christmas if you celebrate it and happy holidays if you don’t!  One of the things I love about Christmas is watching reruns of all the old classic Christmas movies–Christmas is a big time for nostalgia.  A few years ago, I decided to incorporate that tradition into my fandom life and post my CS holiday reruns.  So here you go!  Enough holiday (mostly) fluff to get you to New Year’s Day. (With a new story posting on Christmas Day.)

Word Count: 2099

Other chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31

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Notes:  This story was written for my “Christmas with Captain Swan” collection in 2020.

CS Genre: Enemies to Lovers AU

She was going to kill him.  She was going to drive a stake of holly through his heart or strangle him with a strand of Christmas lights or…well, some other holiday themed method of homicide.

Emma worked hard all day chasing down the scum of the earth and hauling their worthless asses back to jail where they belonged.  Was it really too much to ask that she have a little peace and quiet downtime to relax once she got home.

According to the idiot who lived in the apartment directly above hers, apparently so.  Every damn day since Thanksgiving he’d blared his Christmas music loud enough to wake the ghost of Christmas past.  Sometimes he even enthusiastically belted along with it.  (She had to admit his voice wasn’t half bad, but that was entirely beside the point.)

Emma hissed as she dabbed at the cut beside her eye where tonight’s skip had clocked her.  She’d got him in the end; Emma Swan always got her man, but now that the adrenaline of the chase was over, her cuts and bruises and sore muscles were screaming at her.

And the guy in the apartment above had just started singing “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” at the top of his lungs.

Emma growled, tossing the bloody cotton ball into her bathroom trash and getting to her feet.  Enough was enough.  This stopped now.  He could take his merry little Christmas and shove it up his south pole.

Two minutes later, she stood before his apartment.  Pounding on the door felt extremely satisfying if she did say so herself.

The music suddenly stopped, and a moment later the door opened, and for the first time Emma got a glimpse of the man who’d been the bane of her existence for the past two weeks.

Her jaw dropped.  He was drop dead gorgeous, melt-an-entire-population-of-snowmen hot.

“Well hello, there, Love,” he said with an appreciative grin-and in an accent that had her toes curling in her boots.  “How can I help you?”

Emma’s stomach swooped and her heart stuttered and then started racing.  She blinked and the spell was broken.  She wasn’t some teenager who drooled over hot guys.  Especially hot guys that she’d been seriously contemplating murdering five minutes ago.

“If you don’t stop with the Christmas crap, I’m going to punch your stupid, festive face,” she gritted out.

His eyebrows raised.  “Pardon?”

“Your music!” she said.  “Every freaking day, everytime I get home you’re blaring the Christmas music, and it got old about five minutes after you started.  I don’t think it’s too much to ask that I have a little peace and quiet in my own home.”

He huffed a breath.  “Darling, I had no idea anyone was even in the building in the middle of the afternoon.  Did it ever occur to you to come to me and ask me to turn down my music?”

She had to admit he had a point there.  Maybe yelling at him and threatening bodily harm wasn’t the best opening salvo, but it had been a long day, and she was in pain, and she wasn’t in the mood to be reasonable.

“Look, just turn it down,” she said, crossing her arms and glaring at him.

“Your wish is my command,” he said with biting sarcasm, sketching a mock bow.  “Now is there anything else you wish to yell at me about or may I get back to my tasks at hand?”

“Nope.  That’s all,” she said.

“Good,” he said and then tacked on a biting “merry Christmas” before shutting the door in her face.

The next morning, Emma was rather embarrassed about her interaction with Hot Christmas Guy upstairs, as she’d been calling him in her mind.  She’d had a frustrating day–the skip she’d gone after had left his wife and kids just before Christmas, taking every penny of their Christmas fund.  

It hit too close to home for a girl who had grown up with no family, with no one.  Hard to get into the warm and fuzzy Christmas spirit when no one gave a crap about you.

She’d been too harsh with Hot Christmas Guy, but at least the results were in her favor.  He’d been as good as his word, and if he’d continued playing his Christmas music, he’d done it at a low enough volume that she didn’t even hear it.

Emma had only just begun to think she should go upstairs and apologize, when suddenly there was a knock at her door. 

She opened the door to find the man himself, standing there holding a large plate of cookies. Her stomach not only swooped this time; it did cartwheels.  The guy looked even better in the bright light of morning with his slightly disheveled black hair, his reddish scruff, his blue button down that highlighted his even bluer eyes and his black leather jacket.

“I’m afraid we came to rather a bad start, yesterday,” he said.  “Perhaps we might start again, Aye?  My name is Killian Jones, and I’d like to offer you these Christmas cookies as a token of my apology for the excessive volume of my music.”

Emma took a step back and gestured for him to enter her apartment.  “Hey, I’m Emma Swan, and no apology is necessary.  In fact, I kind of think I owe you an apology.  I shouldn’t have just come out swinging like that.”

He smiled at her, the fine lines around his (beautiful) eyes crinkling with the gesture.  “Apology accepted Love.  I’ll leave you to your morning.”

He turned to leave, but suddenly, Emma didn’t want him to go.  “Killian wait!” she said.

Obediently he stopped, eyebrows raised in question.

“Would you like to stay and help me eat these cookies?”

He shot her a skeptical look.  “Dessert at nine in the morning?”

She shrugged.  “Can’t be much more unhealthy than my normal blueberry PopTart.”

Killian laughed then, taking a step back inside.  “Do you at least have milk to wash them down with?”

“Of course.”

Killian ended up staying for two hours, and it amazed Emma how quickly they fell into conversation.  It was like they were old friends catching up rather than relative strangers.  Emma learned that Killian was a novelist.  His music helped him with the creative process, jump started his creativity as it were.

The conversation had then turned to the upcoming holiday.

“Swan, do you not celebrate Christmas?” he’d asked, looking around her apartment.

She shrugged.  “I mean, I guess I do.  I’m not like opposed to Christmas or anything.  Why?”

“I can’t help but notice you have no tree, no decorations of any kind, and your opposition to the music of the season is well established,” he said.

Emma looked around her neat but rather sterile apartment and shrugged.  “I don’t know, I guess I just didn’t see the point of going to all that trouble.  I mean, it’s not like I’m going to have any presents under the tree or anyone to share the holiday with.”

She had expected him to look at her with pity at her admission of just how alone she was, but instead, the look on his face was knowing, understanding.  “The holidays are difficult when you’re alone, aren’t they?”

That surprised her.  Was he speaking from personal experience?

“Aye love,” he said, answering her unasked question, “I suspect we have more in common than you might have supposed.  Ever since my brother passed a decade ago, I’ve been on my own.  The holidays always bring with them a special kind of melancholy.”

“But…” she began, “but you play Christmas music.  From the glimpse I got of your apartment yesterday, you have all the decorations and trappings.  Doesn’t that make the loneliness worse?”

He shook his head.  “It helps me to remember the good memories, and there are always good memories if you dig deep enough.”

The conversation stuck with her long after she and Killian had said goodbye and gone their separate ways.  Maybe…maybe he was right.  Maybe if she let a little Christmas cheer into her life, it would help, even in a small part, to soothe the pain of a lifetime of loneliness.

The next morning, bright and early, there was a knock on Emma’s door.  This time she smiled as she went to the door, knowing instinctively that she’d find Killian on the other side.

What she wasn’t expecting was the large, beautiful, fragrant pine tree he was holding in front of him.

“What’s this?” she asked, opening the door wider so that he could awkwardly maneuver himself and the tree inside.

“This, Swan,” he said with a teasing grin, “is called a Christmas tree.  Traditionally people set them up in their houses this time of year and decorate them with lights and colorful baubles.”

She grinned, rolling her eyes at him and playfully swatting his shoulder.  “I know what it is, smart ass.  I’m wondering why you brought it here.”

He propped the tree against the door, and then reached up to scratch at the spot behind his ear.  “I got to thinking after our conversation yesterday.  I wanted to bring you some of the Christmas joy that has helped me through the season for years.  I hope I’ve not overstepped by bringing this.”

Emma smiled gently, stepping up to place a hand on his arm.  “This is really sweet, Killian,” she said.  “Thanks.”

“It was my pleasure,” he said, stepping outside to gather the boxes of lights, ornaments and tinsel he had waiting for him.  “If you’ve the time and inclination, I thought perhaps we could decorate your apartment together.”

She took one of the boxes from him and set it on her living room floor.  “As it turns out, I have the day off, and decorating a tree sounds like the perfect way to pass the time.  If you play your cards right, I might even let you play some Christmas music while we work.”

They’d spent the entire day together, first decorating her tree, then splitting a pizza from the place down the street, talking, laughing, and genuinely enjoying each other’s company.

The next day he was back, and the day after that she went to his apartment.  Barely a day went by that they didn’t see each other.  Each day brought a new holiday themed activity.  

For the first time she could remember, Emma felt the magic of Christmas.  For the first time she woke up looking forward to what the day might bring–and it was all due to Killian Jones.  It should scare her how comfortable she felt with him.  It should scare her how much she was coming to look forward to their time together, to their daily phone calls and text conversations.

But somehow it didn’t.  She could read people; it’s what made her so good at her job.  And Killian?  She read him loud and clear.  He was the real deal.  She could trust him.

And so it was that when the idea occurred to her she didn’t let herself think too hard, merely acted.

“So I was thinking,” she said, turning toward him on the couch where they sat together watching Christmas movies on Christmas eve.

“Dangerous prospect, love,” he said with a teasing grin.  She smacked his shoulder.

“I think that we should spend Christmas together,” she said.

This shouldn’t be that big of a deal–after all, they’d spent the last two weeks together–but somehow it was.  Somehow spending Christmas together felt huge. Like this-could-be-the-start-of-something-life-changing huge.

Killian’s eyes widened.  He clearly understood how momentous this question really was.  After a moment, his look of surprise softened into a gentle smile, and he reached up and cupped her cheek.  “Emma, I’d like nothing better than to spend Christmas with you.”

The relief, the joy that came over her at his answer overwhelmed her, and so she did the only thing that seemed to make sense in the moment.  She leaned forward and kissed him.

On Christmas, they made plans to spend New Years together, and on New Years, they made plans for Valentine’s Day.

And on the following Christmas, Killian got down on one knee and asked her to make plans with him for the rest of their lives.

It seemed only fitting that for their wedding several months later, they play Christmas music.  After all, without the sounds of the season, the beautiful, perfect life they’d built for themselves may never have begun.

NEXT CHAPTER->

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Hybrid Town (1) | Only Human

In a world filled with humans and hybrids attempting to find balance with one another, you are but a simple human trying to integrate into the town on the property your late grandparent bequeathed to you. The town just so happens to have a small population of farming hybrids, with hardly any other humans around. 

“So you’re the inheritor…(Y/n)? (L/n)?”

“Yes, I have my I.D. if you want to check.”

“..Right….but the owner of the original property was a hybrid…you are not.”

“Not that it matters. But my grandfather’s partner was a Wolf hybrid…They both agreed to give it to me when they both passed.”

“I..see.”

It might be right to call it racism or maybe more accurately it’s specism and the townsfolk aren’t all that keen on hiding it. They openly sneer at you when you do come to town, whispering loudly about what they’ve heard, and rolling their eyes if you have the gall to ask them a question. 

“Can I get these bags of mulch in bulk?”

“...so what are ya talkin’ to me for? Just grab ‘em.”

“Your sign says to ‘ask for more at the front desk.’”

“...Fine dirt monkey. How much?”

It doesn’t bother you…sometimes. You mostly spend your days on your property, having picnics in the open fields you now own. Spending time renovating your cottage with all the custom plumbing and electricity you learn to install yourself. Wouldn’t want some unfriendly technician in town doing it instead. Anyways you get into the routine of sustaining yourself in your lonesome working from home and relying on your savings to help you enjoy your new life. That doesn’t stop until the one fateful day…you’re lounging on your deck when you hear something faint. It sounds like crying. 

“Waaaaa!”

It sounds like a child…which isn’t unfamiliar, after all your neighbors do seem to be a little family. Of course, they don’t want to talk to you but that’s fine.

“Waaaa!”

It sounds pretty intense but you’re sure it’ll stop soon. 

“Waaaaa! Somebody help, please!”

Now it feels wrong to ignore it any longer. You quickly fix yourself to head over, driving the tractor that you ride across your property to the fence that represents the beginning of your neighbor’s property. It was short work to hop over the fence and hear the crying persisting. Running to the back porch of the house, you see a little dog boy crying his heart out. 

“I heard you crying what’s wrong?”

The kid starts blubbering wiping at tears and snot on his face. After some calming pats between the ears and some promises to help you can get a clear picture.

“Mama fell ‘ver and she won’t wake up!”

You run inside to find exactly that. A dog woman face down on the floor while the soup on the stove boils out and whatever’s in the oven beginning to smoke. Stopping the appliances you flip over the woman in search of a heartbeat and breathing. Thankfully you find it and ask the little boy where you can lay her down. He points you to the bedroom down the hall passing by another bedroom and a bathroom. 

Once you’ve laid her down, check her temperature, and decide in your not-so-expert opinion that she’s suffering from a fever. Assuring the little dog boy you have him help you carry some cold water and a rag to place on her head. While making sure she drinks some water, you finally get to talking to the little dog boy who’s started to calm down now.

“That was real brave of you, good job for asking for help.”

“Big brother always said I gotta since I’m too tiny to do much myself.”

“Well, I thought you were very helpful and you don’t seem that tiny to me.”

“Thanks!” 

“No problem! My name’s (Y/n).”

“And my name’s Titan! By the way (Y/n) I’m real hungry!”

That’s how you ended up cleaning the dishes, Titan’s mother started and using what you could to make something new. You stuck with one of your old family recipes, relying on your memory the best you could to avoid another charred disaster. Eventually, you finish up able to set a plate in front of Titan who is more than happy to dig in. 

“More! More!”

“Okay Titan just a little bit more but you can’t eat it all we’ve got to save some.”

“Whyyyy!?”

“Because your mom hasn’t eaten yet and I’m sure your brother will want some when he gets home–”

“But he’s never aroun’ we’ll be waiting forever for him to come!”

Creak.

“Titan who is this?”

The new voice comes from a much larger dog man with a sturdy build, sun-kissed skin, and overalls barely hanging off his shoulders. His ears are narrowed back and his shoulders are hunched as he easily towers over you. With Titan’s help, you explain how you came to help and that his mother had fainted, likely from the fever she had. When you show him to her, his bared teeth and impending growl quiet down. Fussing over her as he checks for any sign that you might be lying. Finding that you’re not, he skeptically accepts the meal you made as you alternate watching over her and entertaining Titan–who’s far too chipper for a pup ready for bed. 

“Hey uh, wanted to apolog’ze for earlier”

“For what?!”

“Fer how I acted when you’re just helpin’ out.”

“Oh, it’s okay! I’m just happy no one’s hurt.”

“I’m also sorry for misjudging you. I think I had the wrong impression bout ya.”

As you continue to chat with the young dog man–Tank you both work together to finish up whatever chores his mom would usually do. Between you both Titan is convinced to finally get some sleep if it’s in your lap close to his mom. Tank suggests you stay over bashfully offering his bed if you need it. You decline, encouraging him to get some much-needed rest considering he was working on the farm tomorrow. 

“A-a-are you sure you don’t want to stay in a bed? I feel like it’s the least we could do.”

“No worries Tank, I’m going to watch over your mom until this fever breaks. Besides I don’t have the heart to move Titan now.”

“Fair I guess. Hopefully, I’ll see ya tomorrow?”

“Yeah if I’m not still here in the morning you can come to my place anytime.”

His fluffy tail wags a lot harder than he likes at that.

“R-really?”

“Yeah, anytime!”

With another ‘thank you’ he’s off to bed. It isn’t until sunrise that the fever breaks and the dog-hybrid mother is coming to. Assuring her that her boys and the food she left in the oven are not burning the house she calms down to thank you.

“Oh thank you thank you I don’t know what I would have done without you!”

Where you’ll have to fight her off from her barrage of kisses, hugs, and propositions to stay long enough for her to cook something for you to take home, as much as you wanted to stay and indulge in her acts of thanks, you missed your bed and it was plenty exhausting now that you were being spoken to positively. Convincing her that you were such a short drive away that she didn’t need to keep you too much longer and after promising that she and her boys were welcome anytime you could finally go home. 

“You promise?”

“Yes, Miss Tiffany I promise, anytime you’d like.”

“Just not now?”

“Yes, not now so please get some rest!”

Back in the comfort of your home, everything is more or less the same except for the recently obsessed friendly neighbors who make all the quiet time you used to have nonexistent. 

“Wake Up! Wake Up! Let’s play!”

“Egh Titan how did you get in here?”

“Through your doggy door!”

“But I don’t have one!”

“Now you do!”

Thus begins the first few to fall for the lone human in this hybrid town. Hardly shy about their newly discovered attraction as they fill their dull hours up with time next to you. Lucky them as your neighbors they’re the only ones privy to your addictive affection and comforting scent. 

“Oh! I was about to drive over to drop off Titan!”

“What a coincidence! We were just coming over to have dinner at yours!”

“Huh?”

“Well, you did say we can come and thank you anytime!”

“So we figured why not now!”

“In fact, maybe every week we come over to yours and you come over to ours!”

“I mean I guess-?”

“Wonderful Titan, Tank clear the kitchen I’m going to make this dinner the best yet!”

“Yes’m!” “Yes’m

The Dog hybrid family next door is all too eager to take up all of your time. Since the moment you moved in they’ve been eager to truly get to know you, woefully settling with the distant wafts of your scent during a favorable breeze. Unlike others in the town their curiosity for the human was a positive one blaming it on their all too friendly instincts they couldn’t deny the urge they got to close to the distance between you two. But alas everyone in the town was so averse to the idea they were pushed off the desire for far too long but after your sweet words and intentions, they’d be foolish not to return the affection. 

“(Y/n) if you’d like me to cut the grass, I don’t mind.”

“That’s really sweet, Tank but I told myself I wouldn’t allow myself to sit back and let others do all the work.”

His tail droops at that. “Ah I see.”

“But you won’t tell me to go away will you (Y/n)? After I made that doggy door and everything.”

“You just chewed a hole in my door and I’m not saying you can’t stop by Tank I just don’t want it to be because you’re doing more work.”

His tail is wagging a mile a minute again. “I don’t mind if it’s for you!”

With your canine hybrid neighbors so close it’s hard to forget you were ever left alone. Now quiet and sometimes confrontational trips are filled with at least one member of the family accompanying you. Willing to bargain at stores for you or impressively growl when the cashier’s being a tad too snippy. It does make you nervous when the tiny Titan politely asks the nosy bird-woman who had the nerve to whisper about you to a ‘nice chat’ in the alley between the store. Returning with tufts of feathers and blood in his baby teeth. Or how Mama Tiff will oh so politely mention her bloodhound heritage at the fox bullies that hang around your car. Or when Tank all too eagerly pulls you into his side when he finds you cornered by the snake librarian.

“Back off my human!”

After any confrontation, you’ll ask your questions. Head on or round about they’ll all only smile at you, tail wagging wildly behind them. As if they’re proud of the slight fear in your eyes when you ask what that was about.

“We just want to protect you! You are only human after all!”

Part 2: It's Here!

[stellasdrafts]

Planting Roots - James Kelly

Summary: you meet your new neighbour… or rather, he catches you staring. (James Kelly x Reader)

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: mild suggestive dialogue, age gap briefly mentioned (reader is in their early 20s, James is in his early 30s), kinda ditzy reader, female reader, no use of Y/N, fun banterrrr.

Notes: in this house, we <3 hayden christensen.

You were so excited to finally have your own place. You worked your ass off throughout high school and college to save up for a nest egg. You survived roommates from hell and even worse dining hall food. The second you got your degree, you decided to leave everything behind and get the hell out of Dodge. That’s how you now find yourself in New Orleans. The house you bought is humble and in a rather shitty neighborhood. But hey, at least you aren’t in your hometown. You surprisingly don’t mind the sketchy neighborhood all that much. Sure, you’ll have to invest in some pepper spray and maybe a crappy security camera system, but at least the space is your own. It’s not like you really plan on socializing with your neighbors, anyway.

So you dragged in your own furniture – all procured locally. You didn’t exactly have the room to pack up your entire life in your car. You dragged the dusty couch you found on the side of the road up the porch steps. You heard scraping, though if that was the underside cloth ripping, the stubby legs getting scratched, or the inevitably termite-infested deck wood falling apart, you weren’t sure. You broke a sweat in the sweltering New Orleans summer moving thrifted tables and chairs and not that many boxes (still too many for your lone liking). All this while feeling some eyes on you. You’re sure you seem like some kind of crazy. Who moves houses entirely by themselves? Whatever, this is a clean slate. Who cares what they think of you? Here, you can be whoever you want to be, no matter how unserious and antisocial. The house isn’t… maximalist, but decoration is a luxury that will come with time. You have your essentials, and that’s what counts. So you get used to the vicious-sounding dogs barking in the middle of the night, hearing couples argue through not-well-insulated walls, and the weird smell lingering outside. After all, this place is your own.

You’re breaking apart boxes on your porch when you hear the loud ruckus of your next-door neighbor yanking open his front and storm doors. He leans against the front of his house and fishes a pack of cigarettes from the back pocket of his oil and grime-stained gray coveralls. You’ve caught glimpses of him around before – mostly during his much too-frequent smoke breaks, and sometimes if you happened to be up when he left for work. Other than that, he keeps to himself. You assume he’s a mechanic from his usual attire and the beat-up old car he likes to tinker with in his driveway.

You’d be lying if you said he isn’t a bit attractive. A lot attractive, actually. Part of you feels a little guilty. He looks to be older than you – maybe around his early to mid-thirties. It’s not age that really bothers you, you’ve shamelessly been attracted to older celebrities before… There’s just something more humbling when it’s a tangible, real-life person whose house happens to be eight feet away from your own. From what you’ve gathered during your little ogling sessions through your windows, he’s tall, with short dark brown hair and a few tattoos. One of which is an intricate design cascading down his right arm and hand, though you’ve never been close enough to quite make it out. It’s that right hand that now flicks on his damaged lighter in a way so natural that you assume he’s done it thousands of times before. For some reason, you’re mesmerized by the way he moves. Now that you get to see him from a bit closer, he truly is fucking h-

“Can I help you?” his voice breaks you out of your trance. He speaks with the cigarette dangling from his pink lips. Shit. Those stormy blue eyes are locked on you as he blows out a puff of smoke, awaiting your response.

Fuck it. Fresh start. You decide to lean into getting caught staring by laying it on thick. It’s not like you usually cross him outside anyway. “I could think of a few ways.”

The handsome stranger’s brows shoot up, surprised by your bold response. A smirk plays at his lips, his left hand in his coveralls’ front pocket. He pulls the cig from his lips between two long, tatted fingers. “Care to list them?”

Oh god, he’s actually going along with this. You did not plan ahead. You feel warmth rise to your cheeks. “No, no. I don’t do harassment.”

“And staring at me isn’t?” He tilts his head and takes another puff.

You can’t help but smile. So the man’s got a sense of humor… “Oh no, that’s just people watching.”

“People watching, huh?” Small whirls of smoke escape him as he speaks. “And what’ve you gathered?” He exhales.

It’s your turn to smirk and tilt your head. You move up closer to the railing of yours facing the side of his house. “You’re on track to contract lung cancer by age forty.”

He chuckles and raises the cancer stick to his lips again, utterly unfazed. “Oh really?” He takes his time to exhale, looking straight into your eyes for all of it. “What other genius observations have you made?”

You hum and purse your lips, deciding on what other information to reveal that won’t seem too much like a stalker. “You live alone… And I’m pretty sure you’re a mechanic.”

He smirks again. “Not bad. You a Sherlock Holmes wannabe or somethin’?”

“Only if you’ll be my John Watson.” You grin.

He chuckles, a small, genuinely amused smile tugging at his lips. He looks you up and down, and it seems like you’ve brushed off on him because he doesn’t bother hiding it before looking back up to your face. “Guess that makes you the smarter one. That’s kinda hot, Sherlock.”

You pretend to be exaggeratedly flattered because, in reality, your heart is pounding out of your chest right now. “Awe, you think?”

“I do.” He walks up to lean on his railing – which, by the way, looks like it’s about to tumble over. “You’re very attractive, you know that?”

You mirror his actions and lean on your own railing. “And what makes you say that?”

He smirks, seeing right through you. “I don’t think you really know what to do with yourself when someone’s givin’ you the attention that you give them.”

Oh, damn. You blow out air. “Well, shit. We were being playful until you went real on me.”

“Ah. I hit the nail right on the head, huh?” He laughs softly.

You laugh as well. “I swear, I’m not a slut or anything. The only reason I opened with a borderline creepy line was because I thought you’d ignore me. I figured I’d at least have some fun out of it.”

The hot neighbour just smirks. “So I’ve noticed.” He takes another slow drag of smoke. “You thought I was gonna ignore a pretty girl in short shorts on her porch?”

So that’s how he’s going to play it… Truth be told, you hadn’t even given much thought to your clothes- some risky denim shorts and a cute little baby tee. You suppose you should now that you live somewhere where the houses are so tight together.  “Ohhh, so you’re the slut out of the two of us-” you feign realization.

“Oh really?” He snickers and looks down, his gaze lingering on your little shorts for a moment. “That’s a bold accusation, Sherlock.”

“You’re not denying it, Watson.”

“Mm. Guess I’m not.” He smiles smugly and flicks some ashes off the cigarette before his eyes wander back up to meet yours again.

The sight makes your ego swell a bit. “Who’s staring now?” you tease.

His smile turns into a wolfish grin. He shifts his weight against the railing, making a point of maintaining eye contact. “Ah. So we’re even.”

“I guess so.” You laugh and offer a genuine smile, truly amused by this man.

His smirk fades for a moment as he notices the authenticity of your beam. It catches him a bit off guard – the way it lights up your face. “Hey, Sherlock?”

“Hmm?”

“Your smile is cute as hell, you know that?”

You try to suppress the joy that fills your chest from the simple compliment. You can’t explain the hold this stranger has on you. “Thanks, Watson.”

“You should smile more.” He leans up straight again as the soft smirk returns to his face.

You smirk right back. “Are you saying that in a creepy guy at the grocery store kinda way or a genuine way?”

“It’s a ‘you look nice and I’m trying to compliment you’ kind of way.” He chuckles lightly.

Your cheeks warm up. “Honestly, I think you’re the only person around here who’s made an effort to talk to me.”

He glances at the neighboring houses. “Yeah, well-” He points at the house across from yours. “That’s Mrs. Dowers – she’s barely sentient. The others don’t really talk much. We’re not exactly a block party bunch… Everyone around here’s kind of an asshole.”

“Ah.” You nod, looking along the road. “Lucky me.”

He just appears to be entertained by your sarcastic responses. His gaze lingers on you a moment before he speaks again. “I’ll be honest, Sherlock. You don’t seem as much of an ass as the others are.”

You shrug with a playful smile. “Give me a few days.”

He laughs again, surprised by how much he’s actually enjoying talking to you. “So you’re secretly a dick, huh?”

“Oh yeah. The full nine inches.”

“Ohhh, impressive.”

It’s your turn to laugh, glad that he’s matching your humor. It’s fun to shoot the shit with this man. “I mean, I don’t go around showing it off to everyone, but-”

He shakes his head, licking his teeth. After a moment, he nods in the direction of the abandoned half-destroyed boxes on your porch. “Pretty thing like you shouldn’t have had to move around heavy boxes and furniture by yourself, you know?”

Your teasing grin returns. “You were lookin’?”

“You weren’t?”

Fair point.

“Your boyfriend wouldn’t help ya?” he continues.

You shoot him a half-hearted glare to let him know you’re onto him. “Don’t have one. I don’t have the most bustling social life at the moment.”

“You sure ‘bout that?”

You cock a brow. “About what? That I’m incredibly boring or painfully single?”

“The second one.” He scoffs. “You not interested?”

“Not actively searching… but not opposed if an opportunity came up.” You feel a sense of relief, recognizing where this conversation is going. It was inevitable, really, with the way you’ve been talking.

He thinks for a second before speaking again. “So, if I said I was interested, what would you say?”

You straighten up from leaning on the railing, suddenly feeling the need to hold yourself with some air of self-regard. “That depends. You like girls who play hard to get or those who get straight to the point?”

“Mm. Guess I prefer getting right to the point. I don’t do too well with hard-to-get.”

You hum. “Then I’d say when and where?”

He grins. “You free tonight?”

Your smile shifts into a more earnest one to let him know you appreciate this. “Yeah.”

He finds himself liking this more sincere side of you that slips through the jokes. His shit-eating grin softens into a warmer smile. “Alright, then. You mind if I come knocking at your door around six? I know a great Chinese place.”

You nod, starting to back up toward your door. Fuck the mess of boxes, you need to start getting ready now. “It’s a date.”

He chuckles, lifting his hands. “You gonna tell me your name?” he calls out.

You laugh. “Isn’t it more fun this way? It’s not like you don’t know where to find me.”

He shakes his head in disbelief for the second time that afternoon and pushes himself off of his railing. It makes his exposed forearms tense. “Fair enough, Sherlock.”

“Later, Watson.” You disappear into your house.

A tree. The tattoo veiling his right hand and arm is of tree roots and its trunk.

Maybe this neighborhood isn’t so bad after all.

Author’s note: I don’t know how to feel about this one 😭 I kinda just went off and had fun with the dialogue so pls don’t take it too serious (gets cringe if u look too hard). I know James is ooc, I see it as more of a fun what-if-u-were-neighbors-and-both-hella-flirty headcanon. Also I like giving my reader characters lil personalities so sorry if it’s one of those “I would never do/say that” instances. We just have fun here. Thanks for reading <333

[lovebugism]

“Remind me why I can’t kill the carolers?” with a grumpy scrooge eddie!! maybe he and reader move into a new neighborhood with friendly neighbors who go all out for christmas and are always caroling? i can’t imagine the people of hawkins showing up at his door lol

ty for requesting :D — the metalhead freak gets stuck with a bunch of carolers and runs to his girl for comfort (established relationship, fluff, eddie "loves being babied" munson, 1.2k)

blurbcember ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

Eddie moves to the nice side of Hawkins with you. Not the suburbs, exactly, but pretty damn close. 

It’s a house with stairs and a sliding back door, both of which only existed in movies for a kid who grew up in a trailer park. The backyard is fenced in, too — big enough for a dog. A couple of them, even. And maybe a pool if his music career takes off. The realtor also told you that the school district is “to die for,” and even though that’s not really an issue right now, Eddie figures it’ll be important sometime soon.

These are all things you’re supposed to care about when you’re settling down with someone you can see a future with. Eddie thinks so, at least. He can see himself getting old with you, in this house and on that front porch. He’ll be holding your hand on your afternoon walks until both of yours are spotted and wrinkly.

The only bad thing about life (halfway) in the suburbs is running into all the assholes he used to know in high school. Vicki Carmichael was walking her too-expensive dog yesterday morning, and the afternoon before that, Tina Burton had the whole cul-de-sac down the street shut down for her kid’s first birthday party. What the hell is a one-year-old even supposed to do with a bouncy house?

It’s totally trippy. 

But Eddie’s been able to avoid them well enough. Or maybe everyone else is avoiding him. Either way, he’s grateful.

“No— where are you going?” you whine as Eddie slides open the glass door of the shower. You’re still getting used to being able to do this with him now that you’ve moved into the new place. The bathroom back at the trailer was barely big enough for one person, let alone two.

“I’m already done, and you’ve barely even started,” he answers, laughing at the dramatic desperation in your voice. 

He steps onto the plush mat outside the tub and wraps a towel around his tattooed hips. Steam flows out, and the outside cold swoops in. It pricks your skin and makes you shiver. You duck under the faucet for warmth until he closes the door behind him.

“You’re gonna be in here forever, and I’m gonna get all pruney,” Eddie insists, right before shaking out his damp curls like a wet dog.

“You usually like it when I take my time,” you joke, laughing when it makes him silent.

Eddie’s brain gets all foggy at your words. Worse than the heavy steam filling up the bathroom. He’s contemplating whether or not to jump back into the shower with you — and really let you “take your time” — but a knock on the door throws a wrench in his plans.

“Can you get the door for me, honey?” you ask just to tease him, ‘cause you know he’s milliseconds away from pressing you against the shower wall.

He listens to you, because he always listens to you, and then ultimately decides he never will again.

Eddie leaves the warmth of the bathroom, shoves on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt that do little to protect him from the bitter cold outside, and finds a number of familiar faces standing on his porch. 

It’s an entire crowd of people who used to bully him in high school — plus a bunch of snotty private school kids — all dressed up in the most horrendous, white-bread Christmas outfits the world has ever seen.

“Oh, shit…” Eddie mumbles under his breath, the evidence of his words leaving in a thin white cloud. He hadn’t even meant to say them out loud. They just sorta spilled out in the moment. Honestly, he thinks he might be dreaming.

The town’s resident metalhead is forced to sit through a botched rendition of Deck the Halls and Holy Night. And since you’re still in the shower, you can’t even swoop in to save him from it all. He just suffers through the half-out-of-tune caroling while his drying hair frizzes, a wavering smile of confusion stagnant on his face. 

When they’re finally gone, Eddie shuts the door with a chest-deflating sigh. He isn’t totally sure he’s taken a single breath since he opened the damn thing.

“Who was that?” you call from the top of the stairs, a fuzzy towel clutched to your chest. The warm scent of your body wash flows from the opened bathroom door and down the steps.

Eddie turns to look up at you from the bottom of them. He feels so suddenly drained. Like he just ran a marathon or pulled an all-nighter — something utterly exhausting that’s taken a piece of his soul. Maybe it’s dramatic, but he feels a little like his suffering has stripped ten years off his life.

“Remind me again why we can’t kill the carolers?” he jokes as he trudges up the stairs, the railing of them lined with glowing garlands.

“Those were carolers?” you gape, eyes wide and brows raised to your hairline.

Answering the door isn’t really Eddie’s thing. Conversations with strangers at the door aren’t really his thing, either. You think he might’ve just lived through one of his greatest fears.

“Yeah,” he scoffs, laughing through an exhausted sigh. He walks to your shared bedroom and flops on the center of the bed. A heavy sigh falls from his lips like he just got done working a twelve-hour shift. 

You’d laugh at his dramatics if you thought they were anything but totally real. So instead, you sit gingerly beside him, careful to keep your towel from falling, and try to comfort him without giggling.

“Shit, babe. I’m sorry,” you mutter, rubbing a palm up and down the length of his back. You’re grateful he can’t see your smile from this angle, lest he think you aren’t taking this seriously.

“Oh, don’t be,” he tells you, muffled into his pillow. Sarcasm drips from his honeyed lips like venom. “It was tons of fun seeing Jason fucking Carver on our doorstep.”

“Jason was out there?” you gape, a little louder than you mean to. Your shock is palpable.

Eddie huffs and turns onto his back. “Yeah— did you know he has a kid now?”

“What?”

“Uh-huh,” he nods with a small smirk. The life returns to the chocolate of his eyes now that he can gossip. “She was a really cute baby, you know, considering. The odds weren’t really in her favor there.”

You tilt your cheek to your shoulder and cup his jaw with a warm hand. Your thumb rubs gently over the flushed apple of it, tinted cold from the outside weather. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to save you,” you tell him, half playful but with a sincere glimmer in your eye.

“No, it’s okay,” he says with a shake of his head. “I’m glad you weren’t there to see that.”

You can’t tell if Eddie knows you’re teasing him or not. Or if he’s joking about the whole thing ‘cause it’s over now. Your boy’s too hard to read for his own good. You decide to keep pitying him anyway. His love language is basically being babied.

“Want me to make you some hot chocolate?”

He nods, a small pout jutting out his rosy lips. “With the mini marshmallows, please?” he mumbles.

You bend at the waist to plant a kiss on his forehead. “Whatever you want, babe,” you promise in a gentle murmur.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

This is such an interesting home- it's also "off market." Not surprising that the 1986 contemporary in Spokane, WA hasn't sold- the interior design is not apt to appeal to many. 4bds, 4ba, $1,091,995. Let's have a look.

Walk thru the entrance double doors and there's an opening for the living room, but the other walls are glass windows. There's another opening down the hall, but inside there are maze-like columns.

The living room has a large window seat and 2 steps up to another area.

The carpet and wood floors look like roads. To the side there's a dining area, but then there's this sitting area with a unique floor.

This is an entertaining area- there's a bar off to the side.

You'll see where it looks down on, later.

The layout here is the kitchen in the middle, dining room to the right, and everyday dining to the left.

Standard white kitchen with a chef's stove.

A den/family room with a nice fireplace and built-ins. Door to the deck. I like the fan. This home is nice, IMO, but there's so much to clean- the carpet.

The deck continues around the side of the house as a terrace.

The primary bedroom is huge with an elevated sitting area.

The en-suite has a glass block wall and one of those annoying step up tubs.

Walk-in closet.

Secondary bedroom is an average size.

It has its own en-suite.

One of the smaller bedrooms is a den.

Rec room beside the indoor pool. Why did they brick up that fireplace?

It's a lap pool. A lot of people want a regular pool. Note the ceiling. Have you seen it before? That's the floor in the living area upstairs, so it's over the pool. Above are windows to the floor above.

The owner has gym equipment off to the side and there's also a hot tub.

The pool room opens to the patio.

One of the other rooms opens to the patio, also, and there's the long terrace above.

.74 acre lot. Maybe if you get friendly w/the neighbors, you can use their pool.

https://www.redfin.com/WA/Spokane/7713-E-Gunning-Ln-99212/home/116240811

[sickandtwisted01]

SIMON “ GHOST “ RILEY x GN CIVI READER

only pronouns used are you!! nicknames ‘lovie’, “pretty little thing”, ‘darling’

Neighbor Simon PT. 1

PURE FLUFFFFF

________________________________

You sit across the man in silence, eyes staring intently at the cards fanned out in your hands. Your gaze scans the cards, then lazily lingers towards Simon. He’s holding a dwindling number of cards in his large hands, staring expectantly at you. There’s a grin pulling at his lips, a rather mocking look swirling around in his eyes as he raises a brow. “Something the matter, lovie?” He almost coos out.

You breathe lightly, grunting gently as you shift in your spot. Your brow crinkles, a soured look crawling onto your features as you rolled your eyes, “Smug prick…” You mutter back under your breath, motioning towards his card deck. “You’ve got to be cheating somehow, Si.” You added with a huff.

“Yeah, or maybe you’re just shit at the game, lovie?” He quips but quickly motions to the deck placed in the middle of you that’s still pretty hefty. “Plus, you’ve got time to bounce back.” He assured, a smile quirking at the edges of his lips as he peers back towards his cards.

You’re sat in the floor, legs curled comfortably underneath your body. You look natural sitting at the coffee table in the middle of Simon’s living room– he, however, does not. His hulking figure hunched over, his lower back flush against the couch, one arm propped over the cushions. He’s always looked large in any context, but he looks like an absolute giant sitting here now. It almost made you laugh when he sat with you, but you were able to hold it in.

There’s a bowl of chips to the left on the coffee table where the cards are, it’s the brand he knows you enjoy– something you weren’t sure you’d fully mentioned. He must’ve figured it out from when you’d first met, in the empty halls of your shared apartment complex at 2:30 in the morning. It was a rather normal night, lazily trudging in from your shift at the bar you worked at. You’d stopped at the corner store that’s about a five minute walk from the complex to get your weekends dinner (four bags of chips, some sodas, ice cream and a whopping three frozen pizzas, one for each day off) in preparation for the first shiftless few days in gods knew how long. You were tired, barely even able to keep your eyes open as you stomped your way down the hallway– even now you’re surprised by the fact that you’d somehow managed to miss and consequently bump into someone as ridiculously massive and loomingly intimidating as Simon.

You’d quite literally crashed into him, a dazed ‘oof’ escaping your lips as the bags in your arms fell. The sounds of crinkling plastic, rustling paper, breaking chips, thudding ice cream against the floor and then his hands reaching out, wrapping around your forearms to stabilize you. You can’t be sure but you’re almost positive you’d blushed as embarrassment blossomed across your features, a stuttering mess as you choked out an apology, a laughed off excuse of, “Oh, shit– I am– I’m so sorry. I just–.. I’m exhausted. I swear I didn’t– honestly, I didn’t even see you, I just– I wasn’t watching where I was going.” You’d laughed out, not even realizing your hands still being on his arms, and his on yours.

He nodded to you, “S’alright. Really.” He’d assured. His touch finally fell from you, eyes shifting your face, “Trust me, faced much worse than a pretty little thing like you runnin’ into me… you’re alright, though?” He’d asked, there was a look of concern on his features, but not a trace of anger.

He’d helped you pick up your items, carry them back home even, told you to watch out and not run into anyone else in the complex and then he mentioned that he lived a floor above you, and that he might see you around. That was… six months ago, roughly. This was the first you’d been in his home– you couldn’t help the way your eyes wondered when you’d first entered the space. How could they not? Simon’s been this sort of… mysterious entity that entered your life and weaved his way in and out of it. You’d see him maybe once a week, twice if you were lucky– always quick, short conversation before he had to make an exit. It’s very… neat, tidy. Not that you’d expected anything less. Your eyes lingered, taking in my surroundings in silence. He has a nice couch, black sectional. His TV sits on a small table that has shelves underneath it, inside are some DVDs, and you think those are…. Maybe photo albums or something like that? He has a bookshelf as well, there’s rows and rows of books. Some of the shelves have a few knicknacks on them, but nothing really stands out. It’s plain, but still cohesive and somehow inviting– it must be the smallest details he added in. The ones that feel like afterthoughts but still aid to the overall comfort of the space, the lamp in the corner of the room that drowns the both of you in this yellowy-orange glow, the throw over the back of the couch and the small pillows on it. The rug underneath us, the essential oil diffuser that lets out the smell of sandalwood and vanilla.

The reality was; despite the six months of knowing him, you really didn’t know much about him but that didn’t change the fact that you felt oddly comfortable with him. The only thing you could guess was that he was military– many people in the building were, the building conveniently close enough to base to become something like home, a cheap place to lay their heads down that wasn’t on base. Simon didn’t offer that information, though and you’d never pressed to ask him. At the start of your friendship with the man, conversations were usually short, not very deep or meaningful but there were quick bits of information you’d told each other that could be considered more than a quick chat. Then, you asked if he wanted to watch a movie with you and time together became more frequent. He started suggesting cards— despite the limited knowledge you had, you said yes.

Your lack of understanding of usual card games was quickly caught on to, and you two had decided that the only logical conclusion was to play Go Fish, instead. Each time one of you ‘got a fish’, so to speak, you were granted a question. Simon had made it a game as a way to satisfy your curiosity about him and you’d just decided to play along, answering his questions, too.

Your eyes scanned your cards, humming gently– your impending failure was sticking in the back of your mind as you thought. “Got any… 4’s?” You questioned, brows raising as your eyes shifted towards Simon’s face.

Simon grunted, shifting in his spot before tossing the card down between you. He was always that way, annoyed that you’d gotten one over on him despite being so far ahead. He watched you, waiting expectantly for your question.

You eyed him for a moment. There was a slightly annoyed look on his features but it dissipated as your gaze swept over him, “Do… you miss home when you’re gone?” You asked hesitantly. The topic of his absences were usually met with, ‘ask something else’, or something along those lines. You knew it was a risky question, but still, you pushed a bit.

Simon thought for a moment, head tilting to one side and then the other as he took a moment of silence. There was something a little bit tenser about this silence than most we shared, “No, I guess not.” He replied simply.

“Really?” You questioned, brows furrowing as you sat up a bit straighter. “You don’t miss home when you’re gone, not even a little bit? You’re gone… all of the time. You never miss home?”

He huffed, shrugging a shoulder loosely as he looked back at his cards, “Guess this doesn’t really feel like home.” His voice holds no emotion, there’s not a twitch in his expression or a look flashing across his face as his eyes shift back to his cards. “Any 7’s?”

I watched intently, studying him as he answered. He gave no indication of anything with the answer— usually, he didn’t. It was hard to read Simon, easy to misinterpret his words or even feel like he wasn’t interested in them. You purse your lips, looking through the cards in your hands. Slender fingers push their way through the cards, manicured nails pinching the edges of the card before pulling it out to place it on the table and slide it across, towards the man sitting opposite of you.

Simon nodded happily at your surrender of the card with a smile as he pulled it closer, stacking it aside. He then looked to you again, thinking for a moment. It was his turn to question now. “Do you miss home?” He questioned, a playful edge to the words– a ‘so there’ subtleness to it..

You grinned, humming gently as you looked down to your hands, brows raising. The fact that you weren’t from the UK was clear– your accent was heavily American but it wasn’t something you’d talked to Simon about. “Ah, got me there, huh?” Your gaze shifted back towards his eyes with a huffed laugh. My lips pursed, brows furrowing lightly, “I… guess so, yeah. Sometimes.” I sighed gently, shoulders lifting a bit. “Didn’t know it’d be so lonely. I mean–... I moved far but… that’s not something you prepare for, I don’t think. How easy it is to slip away from human interaction when you have to make a conscious effort into maintaining it but at the same time.” Your head lifts again, eyes meeting Simon’s as a smile spreads across your lips, “But I also think it’s important to be alone with yourself sometimes… other people can become noise very easily, take you away from what’s important.”

Simon hums gently at your answer, eyes drinking you in. There’s an intenseness to the way he listens– like he’s hanging on every word. He’s silent as you go on your rant, curiosity flashing at your last sentiment “.. And what’s that?”

“To be happy.” You reply simply, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Simon smiles, looking back to his cards to keep himself from staring at you the way he wants to– what a simple philosophy, was the only thing he could think to himself, there was something that screamed innocence about it. The way he actually wanted that for you, the way he wanted something so easy and simple for someone who was already so kind and sweet. “That’s a good way to look at it.” He tells you quietly, unable to keep himself from thinking about the words uttered from those pretty lips of yours. “Do you have any 2’s?” He asks softly.

Your face twists, nose scrunching up as you utter out a defeated, “Go fish” under your breath. You fling your arm out dramatically, yanking a card up to huddled into the bunch in your hand. There’s a look of annoyance at the loss you haven’t even faced yet. Simon studies you for a moment, looking away as he thought of his question to ask.

You watch him, brows raising as he fell silent. His eyes lingered on the table, features even but mind clearly working. He looked like maybe he was contemplating, like he wanted to ask something but wasn’t sure. Slowly, his shoulders relaxed, he shifted a bit as his gaze met yours, “Would you like to go to dinner with me?” He questioned, words even and nonchalant.

You paused, brows furrowing. “What, like–” Your head tilted, blinking heavily as your brows shot up, “You mean like– like a date?”

He nods, chuckling at the confusion blossoming onto your features. The sound booms in his chest, head shaking as he replies, “Mhm, like a date. There’s a nice restaurant we could go to... opened up a few weeks ago, Iv’eard good things about it.” There’s a sort of fizzling at the end of his words, like he’s nervous you might say no.

You smiled, nodding slowly as you took in and settled on the idea of it, “I mean– yeah…. Okay, Simon. That sounds… yes. I’ll go with you to dinner.” You agreed happily, the bubbling of excitement brewing in your stomach as you shifted in your spot a bit.

He smiled back, nodding. “Great… tomorrow, then. I’ll stop by your flat at… 6:45?”

“Sounds good to me.” You told him softly, “I’ll have to wear something extra cute, huh?”

“Wear whatever ‘ya want, darling. You’ll look good in anything… now, let’s get back to the game. I believe I was kicking your ass?”

You glared, scoffing as you rolled your eyes. “Right… whatever… any 9’s?”

[sanders1665]

Deck the Halls

She had me string the lights again,

cheap strands of electric cheer

clinging to the gutters like fake icicles,

and a tree—

some pine sapling dressed in

red and green plastic vomit

that barely hides its $19.99 roots.

She says it makes the neighbors happy.

Jeez, man, happy?

They’re already baking cookies for Jesus,

lining up their SUVs

to buy gift-wrapped joy from Walmart.

What do they care if I toss some blinking crap

on the porch?

Inside, she’s watching It’s a Wonderful Life.

Again.

The thousandth sob

for George Bailey and his stupid damn bridge.

"Need a tissue, dear?"

I mutter from behind my paper,

pretending not to notice her tears.

She doesn’t answer.

Doesn’t need to.

This is her thing,

her season of giving, forgiving,

and remembering what I’ve already forgotten.

Outside, I light a cigarette,

watch the glow pulse in the dark

like the stupid lights above me.

The neighbors wave.

I nod, exhaling.

Hell, maybe I’m more like them

than I want to admit.

[sisterspooky1013]

Gaslight, Chapter 3/58

Rated X | Read it here on AO3

Dana reluctantly steps out of the passenger seat and follows her mother to the front door. Cal keeps his hands in his pockets, bobbing his head at her with a pained smile. They all stand there awkwardly for a beat until Maggie pushes the front door open and steps past the threshold, looking over her shoulder at Dana expectantly.

Dana steps into the foyer and looks around. There’s a staircase immediately in front of her with a hallway running adjacent. To her left is a living room, to her right a dining room. The floors are all hardwood, the walls bordered with crown molding and chair rails. It’s a nice house, one she might have dreamed about living in one day when she was a young woman just setting out in her career. She spots a stuffed elephant at the foot of the stairs and she picks it up, a flush of fear washing through her as she recalls the children.

“The kids are at the neighbors’,” Cal says suddenly, and she turns to see him standing near the front door. “I thought maybe it would be easier for you if they weren’t here right when you got home.” His expression is empathetic but also wounded, and his jaw twitches jerkily to one side like it did at the hospital this morning. One of his shoulders lifts spasmodically and his head tilts toward it, and she looks away.

“Why don’t you give her a tour, Cal?” Maggie suggests, and she can feel them exchanging meaningful looks behind her.

“Good idea, Maggie,” Cal acquiesces, and walks slowly into the room to their left. “This is the formal sitting room,” he says, gesturing around. There’s a small sofa across from an armchair, and a shelf loaded with books. “We don’t really spend much time in here.” He looks at her, clearly expecting some kind of response or recognition, but she feels nothing. He leads her through a set of French doors at the back of the room into another living room. “This is the family room. This is where we usually watch TV or whatever after the kids are in bed.”

She realizes that the we in his statement means the two of them: Dana and Cal. The married couple, working parents of two young children. She looks at the sectional couch and the TV mounted to the wall above the fireplace and tries to imagine them there, curled up with glasses of wine and network TV. She just can’t see it. On the wall beside the fireplace there’s a large family photo mounted in an ornate frame. She glances at it, but she can feel Cal watching her so she looks away.

The back wall of the house is covered in windows, and she can see a generous deck and well maintained yard. At the other end of the great room is a well-appointed kitchen with granite countertops and an island. She walks across the room and runs her palm over the cool stone, wondering how many times she’s prepared dinner here, or baked birthday cakes.

“That hallway leads back to the front door,” Cal says, pointing to a hall between the living and kitchen areas. “And this one over here leads to the dining room. The garage is just through here,” he says with a thumb hitched toward a door near the pantry. She meets his eye briefly and his melancholy tugs at her heart. She feels as though she’s stolen something from him, but she doesn’t know how to give it back. His jaw jerks and his shoulder jumps, and her doctor’s mind begins to wonder. He must see it on her face, because he looks down and sighs heavily. “I have Tourette’s,” he supplies, his tone defeated. “My tics get worse when I’m stressed.”

“Oh,” she answers, stopping short of adding a platitude. She realizes that this is information she should already have, that this is a disclosure he’s made to her already, years ago. She realizes that he went to bed a few days ago with a wife who loved and accepted him exactly as he is, and now has a stranger in his wife’s body standing in his kitchen gawking at his tics. “You have a beautiful home,” she says, trying to break the tension, and Cal lifts his head and looks at her like she slapped him in the face.

“Let’s look upstairs, Dana,” Maggie says, and Dana turns to see her hovering near the hallway that Cal indicated leads to the front door. Dana steals a glance at him but his head is down, so she follows her mother back to the stairwell. “You fell in love with this house the moment you saw it,” Maggie explains as Dana trails behind her to the second floor. “Cal felt like it was too big of an investment, but you insisted.”

The stairs turn and then end at a large landing, and to the right there is an open space that runs along the front of the house. The floor is littered with toys and a dollhouse is pushed against the far wall, and she infers that this area serves as a play space for the children. Maggie stands at the top of the stairs and watches her as she picks up a naked Barbie and smooths its hair down, then sets it in the driver’s seat of a plastic sports car. Dana wanders past her mother to the hallway that runs along the other side of the stairwell. She starts at the furthest room to the left, which hosts a queen bed and neutral decor. A guest room, she assumes, not one occupied by anyone on a regular basis.

The next door opens to a child’s room with green walls and a lofted bed. The floor is a carpet of Hot Wheels, LEGO, and action figures, and wooden letters mounted between the two windows read “Peter.” There’s a poster near the closet of a brown-haired man beside a blue cartoon dog boasting “We just figured out Blue’s Clues because we’re really smart.” She quietly closes the door and moves to the next, which is a bathroom that looks to be shared by the children. The next door is a girl’s room, much neater than Peter’s. The four-poster bed is hung with a white lace canopy, and a fleet of neatly arranged stuffed animals sits atop the carefully made blankets. On a desk near the window there are several sheets of paper with a child’s messy scrawl attempting the same message over and over.

Deer Mommy, I mess you.

Deer Mommy, kum home soon.

Deer Mommy, do not forgit about Jessis birtday.

Dana’s chest feels tight and she walks away from the desk, back into the hallway where Maggie looks at her with a concerned wrinkle of her eyebrows. Dana pauses, taking several steadying breaths, and looks from the final door at the end of the hall back to her mother.

“That’s the master bedroom,” Maggie supplies, and Dana nods.

She steps through cautiously, feeling like an intruder. There’s a king size bed on a maple sleigh frame in the middle of the furthest wall, and a matching dresser opposite. She approaches the bed, picking up a framed photograph on one of the side tables and inspecting it with clinical detachment. In it, she and Cal stand on a beach, sun on their faces and wind pushing her hair around haphazardly. Cal’s arm is extended and the photo is close cropped, indicating they took it themselves. He is smiling broadly and her lips are pressed to his cheek, her eyes closed. She stares at the photo, begging her mind to call forth a memory, a feeling, a sense of recognition. She feels nothing.

She returns the picture and looks over the rest of the items on the table: an alarm clock, a Dean Koontz novel, a set of foam earplugs. She crosses to the other side table and finds a dog-eared copy of Breakfast at Tiffany’s, a bottle of lotion, chapstick, and a pair of reading glasses. While the items are not familiar, it seems clear that this is her side of the bed. She carefully pulls the drawer on the side table open, and almost slams it back closed before she realizes that these are her belongings. A half-used box of condoms, a bottle of KY jelly, and a small egg-shaped device attached to a remote that she has to assume is a vibrator, though it looks nothing like her most recent recollection of such a tool.

She wanders into the master bathroom and feels her first glimpse of a positive emotion when she sees a large soaking tub. There is also a stall shower, and a large walk in closet. She runs her hands over the fabric of her clothes, gathering it up and bringing it to her nose. She does the same with Cal’s clothes, hoping for some kind of spark. It’s all just stuff, neither offensive nor familiar. Just things in a room in a house in a town. Things that could belong to anyone, but somehow belong to her.

She makes her way back to where Maggie is still standing at the top of the stairs. Dana flashes her eyes only briefly at her mother, long enough to watch the hopeful look fall from her face.

“It’s okay, Dana,” Maggie says reassuringly, though Dana can hear the tightness in her throat. She feels like a disappointment, like a letdown. She wishes she knew when she might feel something other than lost.

They find Cal in the kitchen, hunkered down at the island scribbling on a legal pad. He stands when they enter the room, and Dana averts her eyes so she doesn’t have to watch Maggie confirm that no memories were called forth while they were upstairs. She still doesn’t remember. She still doesn’t know who she is.

“I wrote some things down for you,” Cal says hopefully, sliding the legal pad toward her. “Just some basics about me and the kids. Michelle said it might help you remember, or at least feel less confused.”

Dana pushes her mouth into a smile and glances at the paper. At the top it says:

Calvin Michael Rose DOB 05/29/62

Abigail Margaret Rose DOB 12/12/93

Peter Calvin Rose DOB 03/29/96

Beneath the three names, squeezed in as a clear afterthought:

Dana Katherine Rose DOB 2/23/64

“I do remember my own birthday,” she says softly, then looks at Cal and attempts a genuine smile. “So at least I’ve got that going for me.”

Cal hesitates, trying to read her, and then a relieved smile stretches across his face.

“Damn, I was hoping maybe I could get away with forgetting it next year,” he quips half-heartedly, and something that feels a little bit like hope stirs in her chest.

There’s a screech from outside and Dana’s eyes widen.

“That’s the kids,” Maggie says with thinly veiled panic as she hurries to the front door.

Dana stays put, her heart leaping into her throat. Cal gives her a long look and then follows Maggie down the hallway, and Dana listens as they greet the children.

“Grammie!”

“Abby girl, did you grow again since I saw you last? I specifically told you to stop that!”

“I can’t stop growing, Grammie, that’s unpossible.”

“Grammie, I growed a million feet last night!”

“Oh my goodness, you’re right, Pete! How will you fit in your bed?”

A long pause.

“Grammie’s joking, bud, you’ll still fit in your bed.”

“Is Mommy home?”

Another long pause.

“Yes, she is, would you like to say hi?”

“Does she remember me?”

“You know what, kiddo, her brain is still working really hard to remember everything.”

“Mommy doesn’t know us?”

“Of course she knows you, Abby. Her heart knows you, okay? Her brain is just still a little confused from getting bumped on the head.”

The quick tramp of feet skitter down the hall, and Dana braces herself.

“Whoa, Pete, hold on—”

“Mommy, I finded a rock what looks like a dinosaur egg!”

A small boy comes flying into the room, looking around and then making a determined beeline toward her with an outstretched hand. He has dark features and big, protruding ears. She immediately notes how much he looks like Cal, though she’s unsettled by the familiar set of his mouth—one she’s seen in the mirror on many occasions. He steps right up close and holds out a smooth white rock that is speckled with black spots.

“It’s a egg from a T-Rex, Mommy! I finded it in Eric’s yard!” he says proudly, grabbing onto her arm for leverage as he pushes up on his tiptoes to get the rock as close to her face as possible.

“Wow,” she stammers, accepting the proffered rock and examining it. “This is really cool, Pete.”

She looks up and sees Cal and a young girl standing in the doorway of the kitchen. The girl is half-hidden behind Cal’s body, her cheek pressed against his hip. She has long, reddish-brown hair and a fair complexion, and her mouth is twisted into a suspicious scowl.

“Hi, Abby,” she says gently, her heart aching with the knowledge that a known and loved mother has been swapped with a changeling, that being herself. Whatever her own struggle to find her place in this life, she cannot allow these children to lose their parent.

Abby moves further behind Cal, only one of her eyes peeking out around his body. Cal reaches behind his back and tries to encourage her out, pivoting to make himself less useful as a barrier.

“Come on, honey, it’s okay,” he gently coaxes her.

“It’s okay, Cal, don’t force her,” Dana insists, and Cal drops his arms in resignation as Abby presses her face into his lower back and wraps her arms around his hips.

“Mommy, do you know me?” Pete asks, his face screwed up into a comically emphatic expression of doubt.

Dana crouches down so that she is eye level with the child and searches his face. He’s a cute kid: long, dark eyelashes, little chiclet teeth, a button of a nose. She has the distinct impression that she has never before seen him until this moment.

“Of course, you’re Pete!” she says brightly, and the child’s mouth springs into a wide, gummy smile.

“I knowed it!” he declares triumphantly, turning to address his sister. “Mommy knows us, Abby!” he tells her, but the elder child only tightens her grip on her father.

Dana stands and meets Cal’s eye, and he blinks at her somberly as he understands that she is just placating the children.

“Who wants pizza?” he asks with energy in his voice that does not translate to his body.

“Me! I do!” the children squeal, Abby emerging from behind her father to jump up and down with one arm raised.

“Sounds great,” Dana says, though she doubts that she has any room for pizza beside the rock that currently sits heavy in her gut.

-

“I’m only forty minutes away, Dana,” Maggie says as she lowers herself into the driver’s seat of her car.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay for dinner?” Dana asks hopefully, glancing over her shoulder to the house—her house.

“I’ll end up stuck in rush hour traffic if I wait much longer,” Maggie explains.

“Oh…okay,” Dana says, taking one step back so Maggie has room to close the door.

“It’s going to be okay, sweetheart,” Maggie reassures her, and a sudden onslaught of tears thickens Dana’s throat. “I’ll call you in the morning, okay?”

Dana looks at the ground and nods, feeling like a fearful child.

She watches from the driveway until her mother’s car disappears around the corner and out of sight, and then slowly makes her way back into the house. She hears chatter from the kitchen as soon as she steps through the door, and she pauses to listen for a moment.

“Look how long my cheese can stretch,” Abby says with a full mouth.

“Very impressive,” Cal replies.

“What’s that, Daddy?” Pete asks.

“It’s a mushroom, bud.”

“Blech! That’s a-scusting!” Pete shouts dramatically.

“That just means more for me,” Cal retorts, following it with a series of yummy noises as Pete laughs heartily.

Dana makes her way down the hall, standing uncomfortably at one end of the island and surveying the scene. One box of cheese pizza lies open, and another with an assortment of meats and vegetables that doesn’t look especially appetizing. Cal is seated between the two children, and there is an open seat beside Abby that is presumably meant to be hers.

“Sit down,” Cal suggests with a nod toward the open chair. “I got half with no sausage for you.”

Dana takes a plate and selects a slice of pizza sans sausage, then moves carefully toward the seat beside Abby. Abby glances at Cal and he nods softly in reassurance. Dana takes a small bite, pushing it around in her mouth.

“How was your day today, Abby?” she asks, and Abby looks at her like she has three heads.

“Abby had soccer today, right?” Cal prompts her, and Abby stares at her plate.

“I can throw a ball really, really far!” Pete interjects.

“I’d love to see that,” Dana tells him, and the four-year-old beams.

“You’ve already seen him do it a hundred million times,” Abby grumbles.

“Abigail,” Cal warns her sternly.

“It’s okay,” Dana says quietly, giving him a pleading look over Abby’s head.

They finish their meal amiably, with Pete happily taking the spotlight and filling any gaps in conversation. Dana offers to clean the kitchen while Cal takes the children upstairs to get ready for bed, then spends the better part of fifteen minutes trying to find the recycling before she concludes that they must not recycle. Finally, she pads up the stairs and follows the sounds of voices to the half-open door of Abby’s room.

“It’s okay, honey, Mommy just needs some time for her brain to feel better,” Cal says gently, and there is a wet sniff.

“She doesn’t even know who I am, Daddy,” the little girl whines, and Dana’s heart clutches. “She keeps calling me Abby.”

“That’s your name!” Pete points out, and Cal shushes him.

“I know it is, bud, but Mommy always calls Abby her special name, remember?”

“She calls me Peter Peter Punkin Eater,” Pete says sadly.

“Only sometimes, Pete.”

“What if she never, ever remembers us?” Abby asks pleadingly, and there is a long pause.

“I think she will, honey. I don’t know how long it will take, but I know Mommy loves you so much, she could never forget you.”

Another wet sniff and a shuddering inhale.

“Can you read Animal Daddies and My Daddy?” Abby asks.

Dana waits in the formal sitting room until she hears a heavy sigh and Cal’s footsteps on the stairs. She stands abruptly and he startles, then rubs one hand over his face.

“They’re asleep,” he says, and she recognizes the domestic familiarity of the exchange.

“Cal, I’m sorry—” she starts, and he holds up his hand.

“Don’t do that, Dana. It’s not your fault. They’ll be okay, kids are resilient. And I can see—I know you’re trying.” She nods in agreement, and he gives her a long look. “I’m exhausted, I’m just going to grab a few things from our room and I’ll take the guest bed.”

Our room.

“No, please, I hate to kick you out of your own bedroom,” she says, though she is immediately relieved that he hadn’t been expecting to share a bed with her tonight.

Cal stares at her, and she senses that he is debating whether to say what he’s thinking.

“It’s your room too, Dana,” he points out with pain in his voice.

Dana closes her eyes briefly, wondering if she will stop stepping on landmines anytime soon.

“I know, sorry. I’d just feel more comfortable if I take the guest room, if that’s okay,” she tries.

“Sure,” he aquiesces with a sigh. “Why don’t you go up and grab whatever you need? You can use the kid’s bathroom if you want. Whatever feels…best.”

She slips past him up the stairs and rifles through her own belongings in search of what she needs. Thirty minutes later, she pulls back the covers on the guest bed and tries to get comfortable. She feels wrung out and overtired, but her brain keeps buzzing and buzzing, searching for something to hold on to. Something real.

_

Her hands move through hot, soapy water that nearly reaches her elbows. She feels around for something to wash, green countertops bordering her visual field. She’s comfortable, safe, a little bit excited. She feels like this is a place she’s supposed to be. Music pipes in from somewhere nearby and her hips sway along. Suddenly, someone is right behind her, touching her. Hands slide down her arms and beneath the water, fingers intertwining with hers. She steps back, and begins to turn to face the figure—

“Mommy, I finded the clue!”

Dana sits up with a gasp, her heart pounding in her throat. She scans the room, disoriented. Where is she?

“Mr. Salt and Mrs. Pepper didn’t find the clue before me!”

She looks to her right and sees Pete, clad in Superman jammies, clutching a stuffed blue dog to his side.

“Hey, Pete,” she croaks, her heart slowing as she places herself. “You found a clue?”

Pete scrambles up onto the bed and climbs under the blankets beside her.

“Yep, I finded the paw print what Blue left and they didn’t even see it. I figured out Blue’s clue cause I’m really really smart,” Pete explains proudly.

Dana looks down at him, tucked comfortably against her side. While she doesn’t remember him per se, she does feel a maternal tug towards his impish disposition and how readily he’s accepted her. She wraps one arm around his shoulder and gives him a half-hug.

“That’s really cool, Pete. Great job,” she says fondly.

“I’m gonna go see the rest,” Pete says, and just as quickly as he arrived, he disappears from the room.

Dana flops back onto the bed and stares at the ceiling. Her dream is already slipping away, and she tries to cling to the details. She was washing dishes, maybe. Someone else was there. It feels like a memory, but she can’t access the rest of it.

He. He was there. Him. She doesn’t know it by any factual measure, but she knows it in her heart. Where is he? Who is he? She wants to find out so badly it hurts.

Tagging @today-in-fic

[inwintersolitude]

- April 9th 2025 -

Survey About Where You Live

Do you live in a house, townhouse, apartment, trailer, etc.? House.

Do you live in the city, country, suburbs? I'd call it an "exurb." It's a town that's on the very edge of a metropolitan area, but not really part of the suburbs.

Do you live in a small town? It's a medium-sized town.

Do you live in a fairly new housing plan? It's not brand new, but not super old either. Most houses in the neighborhood were built in the late 90s to mid 2000s.

Do you have a lot of neighbors? There are a lot of houses in this neighborhood, probably over 100, but it's spread out and the properties are about 1/3 to 3/4 acre so it's not like there's a ton of neighbors living on top of each other.

Do you like your neighbors? Yes, everyone I've met has been really nice.

Do you have a lot of neighbors your age? No, I don't think so. It seems like most people here are in their 40s-60s. My husband and I are in our mid-30s and we're the youngest people on the street.

Is there a mall where you live? No, not in this town, but there are two malls that are each about 25 minutes away.

Is there a lot to do where you live? There's more to do here than you'd expect in a town this size. There's a historic downtown with lots of little shops and restaurants, tons of parks, hiking/mountain biking trails, the farmer's market in the summer, an arcade, indoor gokarts, bowling… that's about all I can think of.

Do you live near the beach? Not really. The nearest beach is about 45 minutes away.

Do you live near water? Yeah, there are a lot of ponds and lakes and creeks nearby.

Do you live near woods? Yes.

Does a lot of your family live within 15-20 minutes of you? Yeah, my brother and sister-in-law and nephews live about 5 minutes away. And my parents live about 40 minutes away.

Does a lot of your family live within an hour of you? ^

What state, county, city, do you live in? Ohio, United States.

How long have you lived in that area? I've lived in this town for 3.5 years. And I lived in other parts of Northeast Ohio from 1993 til 2013, when my husband and I moved to Northern Virginia.

Does where you live attract a lot of tourists? Just a very small amount, mostly for that weird/niche little museum in town.

Do you like where you live? Yes.

Your House

What kind of house do you live in? Single family house. It's sort of a center-hall colonial revival type of architectural style, maybe a bit Georgian revival.

How many stories is it? Two stories plus a basement.

What color is the outside? Off-white.

Are there bricks? No. I think it would look awesome if it had a brick exterior, though. That would definitely make it have more of a Georgian revival style.

Do you have a big yard? It's about 1/3 acre, so not huge but not tiny either.

Do you have a pool? Nope. I'll never understand why people bother with pools in this climate. It's too cold the majority of the year. A few of our neighbors have pools and it just seems like more upkeep than it's worth.

Do you have a hot tub? No.

Do you have a fence? Yes, the back yard is fenced in.

Is there a sidewalk? Yes.

Are there steps leading up to your front door? Just a few.

Do you have a front porch? Just a small one.

Do you have a deck? Yes.

How many windows are in the front of your house? 11.

Is there a rec. center in your neighborhood? No.

Are you outside a lot? It depends on the weather. I like to go on walks around the neighborhood when it’s nice out.

Are there windows on the sides of the house? Yes.

Is your house close to a main road? It's about half a mile away from the main road into town.

Do you have a big driveway? It's two cars wide, three cars deep. Not tiny, but not huge either.

The Inside

How many rooms are on the first floor? Eight. There's the main foyer, the formal sitting room, the dining room, the family room, the kitchen, a half bath, the laundry room, and the office (but we call it the bird room since it's for our bird lol).

How many rooms are on the second floor? Six. Four bedrooms, the primary bathroom, and the hall bathroom.

How many flights of stairs are there? Two. One going upstairs, and one going down to the basement.

How many bedrooms? Four.

How many bathrooms? Three.

Do you have a basement? Yes.

Do you have a garage? Yes.

A dining room? Yes.

A family room? Yes.

A game room? We use one of the spare bedrooms as a game room/media room.

Do you have any other cool rooms such as movie theatres or salons? Yep, there's the aforementioned game room, and we also have a home gym in the basement. It's just cardio equipment at the moment (elliptical, recumbent bike, stationary bike, treadmill) but we'll eventually add some weights.

In your kitchen, is there hardwood floors or tile? Tile. I’d prefer hardwood, though. During the home inspection, the inspector was oohing and aahing over the "high-end ceramic tile" that the previous owners installed, and I was just like… meh I don't like it THAT much.

Is there always a lot of food? Yes. But I'm mildly into prepping, I always have about 6 weeks worth of food on hand.

Is there any alcohol in your house? Yes, we still have the bottle of champagne that our realtor gifted us when we bought the house.

Do you have a big refrigerator? It's a standard sized fridge.

Living Room

What color are the walls? Beige.

What color is the carpet? The floors are dark brown hardwood. And there's an area rug that's mostly navy blue but also has some tan and sage green.

How many couches are there? We have one big sectional couch.

How many recliners? None.

How many chairs total? No other chairs yet. I want to get a big swivel armchair but I just haven't found the right one yet.

How big is your TV? 60 inches.

Is there a computer in the living room? No. I use my main laptop in either the office or the kitchen. And all the other computers are in the game room.

Is your dining room connected? The dining room is connected to the kitchen and the front foyer.

Is your family room connected? Yeah, it's connected to the kitchen, and there are double pocket doors that connect it to the formal sitting room.

How many pictures are on the walls? A few.

Is there an entertainment center? No, just a regular TV stand. We don't do much TV-watching in the family room, though. Mostly in the game room.

Are there a lot of other decorations on the walls? There are decorations, but not a lot. I don’t like walls to be overcrowded with decor.

Your Room

What size is your bed? The bed in my own bedroom (where I usually sleep) is a twin-size daybed, and the bed in my husband's room (where I sleep the rest of the time) is a queen.

What color are the walls? Beige.

What color is the carpet? Off-white.

Are there hardwood floors? No, the bedrooms are carpeted, but there are hardwood floors in the upstairs hallway.

Are there any rugs? No.

How many windows are there? In my bedroom? Two.

Do you have a TV in your room? No.

Do you have a computer in your room? No. Unless I bring my laptop in there, but that’s not very often.

Do you have any game systems? They’re all in the game room.

Do you have a dvd player? It’s in the game room.

Do you have your own phone? LOL yes of course.

Do you share your room with anyone? My husband and I sometimes sleep in the same room. But we usually sleep in our separate bedrooms, because of his weird work schedule and my insomnia and VERY different mattress/pillow requirements (thanks to my fucked up back/neck/jaw).

Do you have a bunk-bed? Haha no.

How many pictures are on the walls? A few.

What else is on the walls? Some wall art. And on the door from my bathroom into my closet, I have a big poster of a capybara that says "Don't worry, be cappy!"

How many chairs do you have in your room? I have a recliner in there.

What is the square footage? The whole house is just under 4,000 square feet. Around 3,300 if you don't count the unfinished storage rooms in the basement.

Do you have a lot of cds? Nope. Just a few software CDs.

Is there anything else in your room? There's a dresser and a nightstand.

Do you have a walk-in closet? Yes.

Do you have your own bathroom? Yep, I use the bathroom in the main suite, and my husband uses the bathroom that's across the hall from his bedroom.

Do you have a clock? Not in my bedroom. There’s one in the sitting room, and also one in the game room.

Some Other Questions

How many phones are in your house? There’s the two cell phones my husband and I have, and we also still have a bunch of our old ones.

How many TVs? Three, but one is just an old CRT TV from the 90s and we only ever use it when playing our Nintendo 64.

How many dvd players? One.

How many computers? Uhhh, kind of a lot. I have my main laptop, my new MacBook that I haven't even opened yet, my Granddad's old MacBook, my husband's MacBook, my Lenovo gaming laptop, the gaming desktop, and an old Macintosh Performa that we use for retro gaming.

Did you like this survey? Sure.

[cattatonically]

The Geek Who Saved Christmas - Annabeth Albert

Synopsis

His grumpy neighbor needs some holiday sunshine…

Gideon Holiday is the perfect neighbor. Need a cup of sugar? Spare folding chair? Extra batteries? He’s always ready to help. And he’s waited years for his hot, grumpy, silver fox neighbor, Paul, to need him. For anything. But this December, Gideon would be happy if he could just get the Scrooge-like Paul on board with the neighborhood holiday lights fundraiser.

Paul Frost has no intention of decking his halls or blazing any Yule logs. Even if his spunky bowtie-clad neighbor does look perfect for unwrapping, Paul would prefer to hide away until December is done. But when his beloved younger brother announces an unexpected visit, Paul needs all the trimmings for a festive homecoming—and fast.

Luckily, Gideon is there with a color-coded plan to save Christmas. Soon Paul’s hanging lights, trimming trees, and rolling out cookies. And steaming up his new flannel sheets with Gideon. How did that happen?

It’ll take some winter magic to preserve their happiness and keep these rival neighbors together longer than one holiday season.

The Geek Who Saved Christmas is a low-angst m/m holiday romance with a guaranteed happy ending. This grumpy/sunshine, neighbors-to-lovers, found family tale features two heroes in their forties figuring out that maybe their sexily-ever-after was right next door the whole time. It stands alone and is not connected to any of the author’s other universes. However, it does contain a heaping helping of the same emotions and steamy moments readers have come to expect!

My Thoughts

As much as this book was about a colour-coded plan to save Christmas, it was so much more than that. This book was really about healing, with a holiday backdrop.

Paul and Gideon both have very similar baggage and trauma. While they each keep some things close to the chest, they also learn to be open, vulnerable, and honest with each other. They learn about each other, and to understand each other – and in a way, they learn to to understand themselves more, too.

I really enjoyed the growing relationship between them, and how they communicated with each other. Something I value in my own personal life is open, honest communication, and seeing that in the pages of a romance brings me immense joy.

I really enjoyed getting to know this community, and these two characters. I found myself quite charmed with them, and I’ll be on the lookout for a possible series!

While I will always be a grumpy-pants around this time of year, I can certainly enjoy the season vicariously. And if anyone is going to celebrate for me, it will certainly be Mr. Gideon Holiday.

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Christmas Reruns 2023 Day 21: Deck the Halls...or Maybe the Neighbor

Merry Christmas if you celebrate it and happy holidays if you don’t!  One of the things I love about Christmas is watching reruns of all the old classic Christmas movies–Christmas is a big time for nostalgia.  A few years ago, I decided to incorporate that tradition into my fandom life and post my CS holiday reruns.  So here you go!  Enough holiday (mostly) fluff to get you to New Year’s Day. (With a new story posting on Christmas Day.)

Rating: G

Word Count: 2253

Other chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32

Notes:  This story was written for my “Christmas with Captain Swan” collection in 2020.

CS Genre: Enemies to Lovers AU

She was going to kill him.  She was going to drive a stake of holly through his heart or strangle him with a strand of Christmas lights or…well, some other holiday themed method of homicide.

Emma worked hard all day chasing down the scum of the earth and hauling their worthless asses back to jail where they belonged.  Was it really too much to ask that she have a little peace and quiet downtime to relax once she got home.

According to the idiot who lived in the apartment directly above hers, apparently so.  Every damn day since Thanksgiving he’d blared his Christmas music loud enough to wake the ghost of Christmas past.  Sometimes he even enthusiastically belted along with it.  (She had to admit his voice wasn’t half bad, but that was entirely beside the point.)

Emma hissed as she dabbed at the cut beside her eye where tonight’s skip had clocked her.  She’d got him in the end; Emma Swan always got her man, but now that the adrenaline of the chase was over, her cuts and bruises and sore muscles were screaming at her.

And the guy in the apartment above had just started singing “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” at the top of his lungs.

Emma growled, tossing the bloody cotton ball into her bathroom trash and getting to her feet.  Enough was enough.  This stopped now.  He could take his merry little Christmas and shove it up his south pole.

Two minutes later, she stood before his apartment.  Pounding on the door felt extremely satisfying if she did say so herself.

The music suddenly stopped, and a moment later the door opened, and for the first time Emma got a glimpse of the man who’d been the bane of her existence for the past two weeks.

Her jaw dropped.  He was drop dead gorgeous, melt-an-entire-population-of-snowmen hot.

“Well hello, there, Love,” he said with an appreciative grin-and in an accent that had her toes curling in her boots.  “How can I help you?”

Emma’s stomach swooped and her heart stuttered and then started racing.  She blinked and the spell was broken.  She wasn’t some teenager who drooled over hot guys.  Especially hot guys that she’d been seriously contemplating murdering five minutes ago.

“If you don’t stop with the Christmas crap, I’m going to punch your stupid, festive face,” she gritted out.

His eyebrows raised.  “Pardon?”

“Your music!” she said.  “Every freaking day, everytime I get home you’re blaring the Christmas music, and it got old about five minutes after you started.  I don’t think it’s too much to ask that I have a little peace and quiet in my own home.”

He huffed a breath.  “Darling, I had no idea anyone was even in the building in the middle of the afternoon.  Did it ever occur to you to come to me and ask me to turn down my music?”

She had to admit he had a point there.  Maybe yelling at him and threatening bodily harm wasn’t the best opening salvo, but it had been a long day, and she was in pain, and she wasn’t in the mood to be reasonable.

“Look, just turn it down,” she said, crossing her arms and glaring at him.

“Your wish is my command,” he said with biting sarcasm, sketching a mock bow.  “Now is there anything else you wish to yell at me about or may I get back to my tasks at hand?”

“Nope.  That’s all,” she said.

“Good,” he said and then tacked on a biting “merry Christmas” before shutting the door in her face.

The next morning, Emma was rather embarrassed about her interaction with Hot Christmas Guy upstairs, as she’d been calling him in her mind.  She’d had a frustrating day–the skip she’d gone after had left his wife and kids just before Christmas, taking every penny of their Christmas fund.  

It hit too close to home for a girl who had grown up with no family, with no one.  Hard to get into the warm and fuzzy Christmas spirit when no one gave a crap about you.

She’d been too harsh with Hot Christmas Guy, but at least the results were in her favor.  He’d been as good as his word, and if he’d continued playing his Christmas music, he’d done it at a low enough volume that she didn’t even hear it.

Emma had only just begun to think she should go upstairs and apologize, when suddenly there was a knock at her door. 

She opened the door to find the man himself, standing there holding a large plate of cookies. Her stomach not only swooped this time; it did cartwheels.  The guy looked even better in the bright light of morning with his slightly disheveled black hair, his reddish scruff, his blue button down that highlighted his even bluer eyes and his black leather jacket.

“I’m afraid we came to rather a bad start, yesterday,” he said.  “Perhaps we might start again, Aye?  My name is Killian Jones, and I’d like to offer you these Christmas cookies as a token of my apology for the excessive volume of my music.”

Emma took a step back and gestured for him to enter her apartment.  “Hey, I’m Emma Swan, and no apology is necessary.  In fact, I kind of think I owe you an apology.  I shouldn’t have just come out swinging like that.”

He smiled at her, the fine lines around his (beautiful) eyes crinkling with the gesture.  “Apology accepted Love.  I’ll leave you to your morning.”

He turned to leave, but suddenly, Emma didn’t want him to go.  “Killian wait!” she said.

Obediently he stopped, eyebrows raised in question.

“Would you like to stay and help me eat these cookies?”

He shot her a skeptical look.  “Dessert at nine in the morning?”

She shrugged.  “Can’t be much more unhealthy than my normal blueberry PopTart.”

Killian laughed then, taking a step back inside.  “Do you at least have milk to wash them down with?”

“Of course.”

Killian ended up staying for two hours, and it amazed Emma how quickly they fell into conversation.  It was like they were old friends catching up rather than relative strangers.  Emma learned that Killian was a novelist.  His music helped him with the creative process, jump started his creativity as it were.

The conversation had then turned to the upcoming holiday.

“Swan, do you not celebrate Christmas?” he’d asked, looking around her apartment.

She shrugged.  “I mean, I guess I do.  I’m not like opposed to Christmas or anything.  Why?”

“I can’t help but notice you have no tree, no decorations of any kind, and your opposition to the music of the season is well established,” he said.

Emma looked around her neat but rather sterile apartment and shrugged.  “I don’t know, I guess I just didn’t see the point of going to all that trouble.  I mean, it’s not like I’m going to have any presents under the tree or anyone to share the holiday with.”

She had expected him to look at her with pity at her admission of just how alone she was, but instead, the look on his face was knowing, understanding.  “The holidays are difficult when you’re alone, aren’t they?”

That surprised her.  Was he speaking from personal experience?

“Aye love,” he said, answering her unasked question, “I suspect we have more in common than you might have supposed.  Ever since my brother passed a decade ago, I’ve been on my own.  The holidays always bring with them a special kind of melancholy.”

“But…” she began, “but you play Christmas music.  From the glimpse I got of your apartment yesterday, you have all the decorations and trappings.  Doesn’t that make the loneliness worse?”

He shook his head.  “It helps me to remember the good memories, and there are always good memories if you dig deep enough.”

The conversation stuck with her long after she and Killian had said goodbye and gone their separate ways.  Maybe…maybe he was right.  Maybe if she let a little Christmas cheer into her life, it would help, even in a small part, to soothe the pain of a lifetime of loneliness.

The next morning, bright and early, there was a knock on Emma’s door.  This time she smiled as she went to the door, knowing instinctively that she’d find Killian on the other side.

What she wasn’t expecting was the large, beautiful, fragrant pine tree he was holding in front of him.

“What’s this?” she asked, opening the door wider so that he could awkwardly maneuver himself and the tree inside.

“This, Swan,” he said with a teasing grin, “is called a Christmas tree.  Traditionally people set them up in their houses this time of year and decorate them with lights and colorful baubles.”

She grinned, rolling her eyes at him and playfully swatting his shoulder.  “I know what it is, smart ass.  I’m wondering why you brought it here.”

He propped the tree against the door, and then reached up to scratch at the spot behind his ear.  “I got to thinking after our conversation yesterday.  I wanted to bring you some of the Christmas joy that has helped me through the season for years.  I hope I’ve not overstepped by bringing this.”

Emma smiled gently, stepping up to place a hand on his arm.  “This is really sweet, Killian,” she said.  “Thanks.”

“It was my pleasure,” he said, stepping outside to gather the boxes of lights, ornaments and tinsel he had waiting for him.  “If you’ve the time and inclination, I thought perhaps we could decorate your apartment together.”

She took one of the boxes from him and set it on her living room floor.  “As it turns out, I have the day off, and decorating a tree sounds like the perfect way to pass the time.  If you play your cards right, I might even let you play some Christmas music while we work.”

They’d spent the entire day together, first decorating her tree, then splitting a pizza from the place down the street, talking, laughing, and genuinely enjoying each other’s company.

The next day he was back, and the day after that she went to his apartment.  Barely a day went by that they didn’t see each other.  Each day brought a new holiday themed activity.  

For the first time she could remember, Emma felt the magic of Christmas.  For the first time she woke up looking forward to what the day might bring–and it was all due to Killian Jones.  It should scare her how comfortable she felt with him.  It should scare her how much she was coming to look forward to their time together, to their daily phone calls and text conversations.

But somehow it didn’t.  She could read people; it’s what made her so good at her job.  And Killian?  She read him loud and clear.  He was the real deal.  She could trust him.

And so it was that when the idea occurred to her she didn’t let herself think too hard, merely acted.

“So I was thinking,” she said, turning toward him on the couch where they sat together watching Christmas movies on Christmas eve.

“Dangerous prospect, love,” he said with a teasing grin.  She smacked his shoulder.

“I think that we should spend Christmas together,” she said.

This shouldn’t be that big of a deal–after all, they’d spent the last two weeks together–but somehow it was.  Somehow spending Christmas together felt huge. Like this-could-be-the-start-of-something-life-changing huge.

Killian’s eyes widened.  He clearly understood how momentous this question really was.  After a moment, his look of surprise softened into a gentle smile, and he reached up and cupped her cheek.  “Emma, I’d like nothing better than to spend Christmas with you.”

The relief, the joy that came over her at his answer overwhelmed her, and so she did the only thing that seemed to make sense in the moment.  She leaned forward and kissed him.

On Christmas, they made plans to spend New Years together, and on New Years, they made plans for Valentine’s Day.

And on the following Christmas, Killian got down on one knee and asked her to make plans with him for the rest of their lives.

It seemed only fitting that for their wedding several months later, they play Christmas music.  After all, without the sounds of the season, the beautiful, perfect life they’d built for themselves may never have begun.

NEXT CHAPTER->

[dessertwaffles]

Thanks @cricketnationrise for the tag!!

Rules: give us the links to your fic with the most hits, second most kudos, third most comments, fourth most bookmarks, fifth most words, and fic with the least words.

Most hits/third most comments: thinking about last night (Schitt’s Creek)

After their night at Stevie's, Patrick has trouble focusing at work.

Second most kudos: across the hall (Schitt’s Creek)

Neighbors AU. Five times Patrick brings food to David and one time David attempts to make food for Patrick. (Written for Tropefest)

Fourth most bookmarks: maybe tonight (the stars align) (Check, Please!)

Nursey and Dex spend a winter weekend at a lakeside cabin in Maine. (Written for Deck the Haus)

Fifth most words: suddenly this summer it’s clear (Check, Please!)

Nursey and Dex’s developing relationship, as told through their text messages. (Written for Madison & More)

Least words: holiday volcanoes (Schitt’s Creek)

Ray is offering a holiday photo package and Patrick is a troll. (354 words)

Tagging @swiftlythebest @lilythesilly @hullomoon @sweatersinthesummer!

[tbcshrutivemula]

Ava Maple Borivali Bliss Luxurious Lifespaces 1 & 2 BHK Flats

Ava Maple Borivali, situated in the bustling center of Borivali East, provides homeowners with just the right mix of contemporary comfort, ease, and peace. The place is meticulously selected for convenient connectivity to everything significant. Picture starting the day in a spacious 1BHK or 2BHK abode, with sunlight streaming through the interiors and illuminating all in a soft, welcoming sheen. Stepping out of your home, the green expanses and beautifully maintained common spaces provide a setting for a peaceful day.

The morning here is energizing, to say the least. The day begins for the residents with a bracing run or soothing yoga session on the private yoga deck. With the state-of-the-art gymnasium and jogging track, keeping fit is a walkover. With a gym session, a splash of cool water from the large swimming pool makes a perfect morning start. Every nook of the building is designed for well-being and comfort to offer a refreshing and renewing morning routine to transition into a productive day of learning.

Seamless Convenience: A Day Made Easy

Ava LifespacesBorivali is all about convenience, thanks to its strategic location. The building is strategically positioned near facilities, hence making all daily living activities convenient and stress-free. A quick drive to Oberoi Mall for shopping or visiting a nearby school is all convenient. The fact that it is close to major transport centers, such as the Devipada Metro Station and Borivali Railway Station, makes traveling easy and convenient, allowing you to easily travel to work, see friends, or travel around the city.

Throughout the day, the variety of facilities atAva Lifespaces Borivali keeps adding to the lifestyle of its inhabitants. Corporate executives are facilitated by the proximity of offices like Tata Consultancy Services and Cosmos Business Park. Families enjoy the convenience of hospitals and schools within easy reach. The play area for children, library, and multi-purpose hall provide ample space for recreation or relaxation. When you are working or hanging out with family members, the property offers everything that you need for an equitable day.

A Touch of Luxury: Relax and Unwind

Evenings spent at Ava Borivali Bliss provide the perfect ambience to relax after a busy day. The outdoor space with seating in the center of large gardens is the ideal place to unwind with friends or neighbors. At nightfall, the residents can have a serene stroll, appreciating the soothing atmosphere. The complex encourages social contact, and you can meet others amidst the serenity of your home.

For dwellers who want more action, there are indoor games facilities that include facilities like pool and table tennis. Those who wish to exercise in the evenings can avail themselves of the health club and steam rooms for unwinding and rejuvenation. The children may be left behind at the crèche while parents get a bit of me-time. Whichever type of evening you're looking for, relaxed or vibrant, Borivali Bliss is the ideal location to relax and enjoy life.

A Central Hub of Connectivity and Modern Living

The strategic position of Ava Maple places residents in touch with the important places of Mumbai. If one is going to a corporate hub, a medical facility, or a recreational point, all are within reach. The convenience of being close to commercial hubs such as Cosmos Business Park and Axis Bank allows professionals an easy commute. Local hospitals such as Narendra Hospital and Krantijyoti Savitribai Phule Hospital provide a plus point for residents in need of medical care.

The center of proximity, non-stop but still tranquil, is what the property is like. It is only 800 m away from Sanjay Gandhi National Park, and one is able to immediately walk through the green open space, so a rest in harmony with the environment is a matter of a few minutes only. Slightly longer maybe, regular visits to the park with the family or romantic walks through greenery are the times that add to the charm of life. Moreover, the dwelling is just next door to surrounding malls, metro stations, and other venues, so residents will have the chance to get a double dose of pleasure: city living and a quiet getaway.

A Balanced Lifestyle Awaits You

Life at Ava Lifespaces is a perfect blend of contemporary living and ease. Stunning homes, outstanding amenities, and a magnificent location are features of the development that help to make the lives of residents more comfortable, handy, and stress-free. The life here is designed and meant to be the best of every day, from early morning workouts to soul-calming nighttime leisure. Whether relaxation or an active life is what you seek, Ava Borivali Blissis the ideal space for both.

This signature property blends luxury, convenience, and accessibility to such an extent that each day is a satisfying experience. Well designed with wellness, ease of living, and community in mind, the complex has everything you could possibly require for a contented life. Conveniently situated so that you remain close to everything yet provide a serene environment, residing at Ava Maple Borivali is an experience of getting the best of both worlds.

[adamwatchesmovies]

Deck the Halls (2006)

While I didn't enjoy this film, that doesn't mean you won't. No matter what I say, the people involved in this project did it: they actually made a movie. That's something to be applauded. With that established...

Deck the Halls is knit from the same wool as the disastrous Christmas with the Kranks. Ridiculous, pointless, unfunny and filled with lame developments that’ll have you asking countless questions, it takes 93 minutes of your time while offering nothing in return.

In Cloverdale, Massachusetts, self-proclaimed Christmas expert Steve Finch (Matthew Broderick) is preparing for his favourite season when new neighbors move in across the street. Soon, a rivalry forms between Buddy Hall (Danny DeVito) and Steve when the newcomer decides to go all-out with his Christmas lights and build a display you can see from space.

While technically, the film is about Buddy’s attempt to put together the Christmas display to end all Christmas displays while Steve sabotages his efforts, that storyline doesn’t come in for a long, long time. It's the like the film doesn't know what it wants to be about and who should be in the wrong. Buddy and his too-hot-for-him wife Tia (Kristin Chenoweth) immediately make a strange impression upon Steve and his wife, Kelly (Kristin Davis). This makes you think that the Halls are the problem. A few scenes later, it's made clear anyone who calls themselves an expert on Christmas is a bit of a jerk. From there, characters change depending on the scene.

Director John Whitesell's non-comitment to a villain vs. hero story means the film is filled with inconsistencies. We see that Buddy doesn’t have the money needed for a package of Christmas lights that would make Clark Griswald blush. His solution? Steal electricity from across the street. Later on, we see that Buddy is a car salesman superstar that could sell ice at the North Pole. Does he have money, or doesn't he? You think we're building up to something when it’s established that Buddy is the kind of person that doesn’t understand jokes or sarcasm (so much that his ability to sell anything would be questionable), that his twin daughters (played by Sabrina and Kelly Aldridge) are dumb as rocks, that his wife doesn’t know the meaning of “inappropriate”, that Kelly (Kristin Davis) feels like a failure because all she writes are cookbooks composed of pre-existing recipes given slight twists (as opposed to brand new recipes that come out of nowhere?) but then… nothing.

It’s like writers Matt Corman, Chris Ord and Don Rhymer came up with the title and then didn’t know what to do next so they just scribbled a bunch of holiday pratfalls onto a piece of paper. From there, the studio asked the director (responsible for such “gems” as Big Momma’s House 2 & 3, and Holidate) to squeeze this lump of coal until it turned into a diamond. The foreshadowing is as elegant as a fat man sliding down a chimney and the logical holes keep piling up. Buddy’s light show keeps getting bigger and bigger. Obnoxious lights and music are on full blast until 4 in the morning but the only people to have any problems with it are Steve and his wife. Maybe his son for one scene. His daughter played by Alia Shawkat is gone for such long stretches of the picture you practically forget she exists. Later, Buddy's boss scolds him because “his numbers are down”. He’s been there for less than three weeks and on his first day, he sold a car to the boss at sticker price. Which one is it? Is he a selling machine, or incompetent at his job? When it comes time for Steve to complain to the police, he realizes the Sheriff (Gary Chalk) is wearing women’s underwear so he runs away in terror. Why doesn’t just come back to fill in the proper paperwork later? Or is he so triggered, he has no choice but to take the law into his own hands? As we near the mandatory forced sentimentality of the conclusion, displays that would take an entire team a week to put up are done in the blink of an eye. Even if it were possible, what are they being powered by? Magic?

More frustrating than all of these unanswerable questions is knowing you’re wasting your time thinking about them. The people who made Deck the Halls didn’t care. They just looked at their calendar and realized that if they started filming a movie at that time, they’d be done and ready to release it in theaters come November 2006. (December 19, 2021)

[hometoursandotherstuff]

I can't figure this 1905 house in Pittsburgh, PA out. Was it once a church? Is it the industrial look they were going for? The lighthouse look? However, the realtor delusionally describes it as a "sophisticated California Style Contemporary." It has 4bds, 2ba, and they're asking $1.5M. Check this out.

From the front, the doors look like church doors, but thru the window you can see the lighthouse stairs.

The front entrance hall where the first thing you see is the staircase.

Okay, so here we are in the lighthouse portion. Is that an exhaust fan on the lower right? A vent? I've never seen one of those. I wonder what it costs homeowners to have a home completely painted white before they put it on the market.

So, I guess that you go down to the living room. One thing about this home is that it's very angular. So, here's the living room with a fireplace. and the angled wall on the right is the kitchen, so the area alongside the living room must be the dining area?

This is what I mean about it being angular. The door opens to the lower deck in the rear of the home.

Remodeled kitchen with the dated oak cabinets. They removed the doors in the middle and replaced the end one with glass inserts to modernize them a bit. (But why didn't they put glass in the other one?)

Maybe this is supposed to look like a ship?

This is nice. I think it's a bedroom, b/c it's carpeted- the bds. are all carpeted. It opens to the 2nd level deck in the rear.

This is what the decks look like- angles. Notice that the neighbors' decks aren't like that.

This room has a fireplace and wood flooring, so it may be a TV room or den. It also has a door to the deck.

One of the secondary baths with an angled wall.

The top floor view.

I would say that this is the primary bedroom on the 3rd level. It has skylights, a fireplace, a couple of niches and a small door with a storage space.

Open closet space and door to the uppermost deck.

The en-suite has a double sink with a granite top.

This is a shower room, probably counts as the 3rd bath, even though the listing says 2.

Another view from the uppermost floor.

So, there's a porch plus 2 decks.

Look's like there's a yard with bushes and trees, plus a garden.

That's the Ohio River.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/820-Grandview-Ave-Pittsburgh-PA-15211/11363316_zpid/?

[our-flag-means-death-ao3feed]

Deck the Halls Again

by brackenwife, StedesLeftShoe (CravatsAndBonnets)

Ed & Stede, new across-the-street neighbors in a detached condominium development, get a little intense about holiday decor.

"The bright plastic tackiness was part of the appeal for Stede, honestly, and he was annoyed at Nigel for telling him he had to put Snoopy away on a designated date. Surely one could leave Halloween decor through the first week of November! And then to declare that no Christmas decorations could go up before Thanksgiving weekend? Fucker. Fun-hating, no doubt homophobic, childhood ruining fucker."

Words: 729, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Our Flag Means Death (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Blackbeard | Edward Teach, Stede Bonnet, Lucius Spriggs, Fang (Our Flag Means Death), Israel Hands, Black Pete (Our Flag Means Death), Frenchie (Our Flag Means Death), Roach (Our Flag Means Death), Wee John Feeney, Oluwande Boodhari, Jim Jimenez, Crew of the Revenge (Our Flag Means Death), Mary Read, Anne Bonny

Relationships: Blackbeard | Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Social Media, Christmas Fluff, block party, Neighborhood Party, winter holidays, Unspecified Setting, Somewhere on the North American West Coast Maybe, What's Stede's Job? Who Cares!, Good Blackout Shades Make Good Neighbors, Christmas Lights, Holiday Decoration, holiday decorating, inflatables, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Dork4Dork, Nerd4Nerd, they are nerds your honor, Star Trek References, Star Wars References, The Lord of the Rings References, Dad Jokes, Single Parent Stede Bonnet

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/48755203