#fic: beneath the mistletoe screaming

[rose-n-gunses]

for the fic asks: beneath the mistletoe screaming - questions 4, 5, & 9 💕 

Hi babe thanks for playing! And omg beneath the mistletoe screaming was so fun to write I'm so happy you picked this one

4 - What's your favorite line of dialogue?

Oh man there's so many! There's not much dialogue in this piece as a whole but since I have to choose, I'm quite fond of Wayne's comment to Eddie where he says "Maybe all this Santa business is good for you, kid. Seems to have turned you into one jolly son of a bitch."

5 - What part was hardest to write?

Probably the scene with Jason since I had already written that part in detail in the first part of the series. It was kind of difficult to portray the same scene from a different point of view without repeating all of the same dialogue, so I had really think to come up with whatever insights Eddie would have about it.

9 - Were there any alternate versions of this fic?

Not so much alternate versions as different parts of the same story told from different POVs. The first part in the series (mentioned above) is thrilling christmas, trembling fear, which is from Jason's pov (for those of you that haven't read them) and I haven't started it yet I don't think BUT I *am* planning on writing a third installation from Chrissy's pov about her joining the Munsons for dinner.

Send me an ask about my fics!

[tears-and-smiles-ao3]

Loki Series fanfic masterlist

Gen fics

A romantic surprise

Lokius. Light angst

Loki wants to surprise Mobius with a lovely candlelight dinner. Mobius is sure it’s a trick, but it’s not. It’s love.

Baby’s First Yuletide

Lokius, Loki and family. Family feels

Loki, Mobius and baby Frida spend their first Yuletide with Loki’s family. Gifts, traditions and fluff ensue.

Brothers reunited

Loki and Thor. Family feels

Loki visits Thor, uttering the phrase “the sun will shine on us again”. The only problem for Thor? It’s night time.

Caged

Lokius. Emotional hurt and comfort

Loki is angry at being caged in that same Asgardian cell one again, but this time he is with Mobius and the agent knows exactly how to handle his lover’s explosive temper.

Dear Lover

Lokius. 172 words. Love poetry.

Imperfectly Perfect

Lokius. Light angst, panic

Loki just wants everything to be perfect for Mobius’ birthday, but when he accidentally sets his hair on fire, he freaks out. Luckily, he has people on hand to help him calm down, sort out his hair and get things ready before Mobius comes home.

Much Ado About Lokius

Lokius. 1971 words. Theatre, Shakespeare, Loki in a dress, feelings realisation, first kiss.

Loki and Mobius go on a mission to hunt down a variant hiding in the middle of a Shakespeare play audition. To blend in, Loki transformed his and Mobius' outfits to match the actors. The result: Mobius realising some feelings and giving into temptation.

Teen fics

Afterwards

Lokius Angst, Self-Worth Issues, Self-Hatred, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Nonbinary Loki.

Loki’s spirals after getting together with Mobius, their mind screaming hateful things at them. They run, because they always do, but Mobius finds them.

A Kiss Like No Other

Lokius. Kissing

Loki and Mobius meet after the events of episode 6, and they kiss. It’s raining. That’s it. That’s the fic.

All I See Is You

Lokius. Sexual tension and pining

Mobius watches Loki dancing at the TVA’s first Christmas party, happy to stay in the sidelines until Ravonna firmly pushes him onto the dancefloor.

Beneath the Stars

Lokius. Angst, peril

Loki searches through the timelines looking for his Mobius. It may take visiting a million timelines, but he’s determined he will find him, and when he does, they’ll spend a romantic night under the stars.

Best Laid Plans

Lokius. Light angst

Mobius wants to surprise Loki with a kiss under the mistletoe. Too bad he forgot about that one Norse myth.

Drawn to the light

Lokius and baby. Post-partum depression, comfort

After the baby is born, Loki struggles with motherhood but Mobius is there every step of the way to help, even stringing up soothing fairy lights around Frida’s room.

From Past Experiences

Lokius. Angst, fear

Loki is pregnant when he arrives in the TVA and he intends to keep that a secret until he escapes. He doesn't trust easily but a certain Mobius M. Mobius seems intent in being someone who can keep him safe.

Green Brings Out Your Eyes

Lokius. Sexual tension, pining

Loki and Mobius get dressed for a Christmas party. Mobius can’t believe how gorgeous Loki looks when he steps out of his room, and Loki makes sure to flirt and tease the agent, who can’t stop blushing.

Keeping Hope Alive

Mobius & Ravonna. 3,539 words. Missions gone wrong, guns, violence.

Mobius was stuck on a timeline with no escape when he stumbled into Ravonna. They have to put aside their past conflict and team up to fight against Kang’s forces, but will they manage to escape?

Kneel

Lokius. Religious themes, implied sexual acts

Mobius kneels before a statue of Loki in prayer, wishing that Loki was really there with him.

Let Time Pass

Lokius. Post S2. Angst, reunions.

Mobius tries to settle down, to live his life, but years pass and he still misses Loki dearly. So, Loki appears and they are reunited once more. They kiss, and Mobius goes with Loki to the end of time.

Manipulation tactics

Lokius. Implied sex for favours, kissing

Drabble. Loki takes matters into his own hands to get the upper hand, but his plans don’t go the way he thought they would.

One On The Way

Lokius. 3807 words. Mpreg, medical examinations.

Loki discovers he's pregnant, but doesn't know how he's going to tell Mobius.

One’s a wish, two’s a kiss

Lokius. Kissing

Loki doesn’t want to let Mobius go without showing him how much he means to him. While hugging Mobius, he plucks up the courage to kiss him for the first time.

Preparing for a new arrival

Lokius and baby. Mpreg

That ass

While knitting a sleepsuit for his expectant child, Loki looks back at how he tried and failed to hide his pregnancy from Mobius.

Tell Me Some Things Last

Mobius and Sylvie. Angst with a happy ending. Hurt/comfort. References to self-harm.

Mobius is paralyzed by his grief after Loki sacrificed himself to save the multiverse. It will take Sylvie helping him to face his emotions to give him his own happy ending.

Lokius. Sexual attraction, light angst, mild hurt/comfort, implied/referenced sex

Five (5) times Loki checked out Mobius’ ass and got caught and one (1) time Mobius did something about it.

The Valentine’s Dance

Lokius. Light angst, kissing

Loki is in love with his best friend, Mobius, who he is pretty sure doesn’t return his feelings. Unknown to Loki, Mobius has plans to show his true feelings at the Valentine’s dance.

The Words That Scar The Heart

Lokius, Loki and Thor. Emotional hurt, comfort

Loki meets a Thor variant and his words leave him rattled to the core. It takes him a while to open up about how he feels but when he does, Mobius is there to comfort him.

Watch It Burn

Lokius. 3,449 words. Angst, feels, first kiss, getting together, implied/referenced suicide.

Mobius said goodbye to Loki to go on his own journey to burn the TVA to the ground. As with all things set on fire, he doesn’t expect to ever see Loki again, but when the timelines branch past the red line, some familiar footsteps approach from behind.

A retelling of canon with a little divergence told from Mobius’ point of view, from the end of episode 5 and all through episode 6.

While The World Falls Apart

Lokius. 1,340 words. First kiss, missions gone wrong, major character injury.

As Kang’s forces surround them with no hope of escape, Loki decides to kiss Mobius for the first time.

Mature fics

All In A Day's Work

Lokius. 904 words. Inappropriate workplace behaviour, cockwarming.

HR manager Mobius is fed up of Loki being sent to see him every day for his inappropriate comments to co-workers, so he comes up with a solution that suits them both.

A Prayer

Lokius. Sex, sacrilegious themes

Priest Mobius’ groans of pleasure are a prayer to the God of Mischief.

Are You Jealous? (6/?)

Lokius. Pining, angst, depression, hurt

Loki decides to make Mobius jealous as a way to get his attention. It doesn’t go well.

Eating Out Of His Hand

Lokius. Hand feeding, no sex

Loki and Mobius spend an evening enjoying a kink they both discovered they liked.

His Love Stings

Lokius. Emotional hurt, hopeful ending

Loki and Mobius are sleeping together, but they aren’t in a relationship. They barely talk about what’s between them, until they are forced together on a mission gone wrong.

Still Not Sorry

Lokius. Public sexual verbal teasing

Loki teases Mobius by apologising to him while at work. A short scene that takes place after the events of Sorry, Not Sorry.

Playing With Fire (Safely)

Lokius Wax play, no sex

Mobius and Loki explore wax play together, using red, white and green soy candles.

The Tears of a Trickster

Lokius. Dacryphilia, peril, first kiss.

Mobius gets turned on by Loki crying despite the sacred timeline unravelling around them. Alternative ending to Loki episode 6.

You're beautiful

Lokius. 46 words. Love poetry, spanking.

Loki looks too damn good on his knees for Mobius.

Explicit fics

Closeness

Lokius. Sex

Loki and Mobius get stuck in a small closet while on a mission. Things get heated.

Don't ever stop

Lokius. Desk sex

Loki fantasised about bending Mobius over the desk from the very first time the agent had sat him down here to watch TVA propaganda.

Dream Of Me

Lokius. Post S2. Dream sex, magical impregnation.

Mobius falls asleep in his motel bed and disappears into his dreams to find Loki. When he gets there, they share a night of pleasure, and Mobius leaves something of himself behind.

Going down in the elevator

Lokius. Elevator sex, oral sex, hand jobs

Loki and Mobius have some fun in the elevator. It’s exactly what you think it is.

Putting Up The Decorations

Lokius. Inappropriate use of decorations, bondage, anal sex, daddy kink

Mobius wants to decorate for Christmas. Loki didn’t expect that it would be him decorated with fairy lights and baubles.

Riding Herd On (2/3)

Lokius. Slight dub con, foursome, bikinis, bondage, light D/s

Loki has been good. Very good. So good that Mobius agrees to give him a treat. He’s just surprised that Loki chose this specific party. Sure, he knew about this event and, yes, Loki had talked about Mobius wearing this very outfit while they fucked, but it was still a lot to be faced with those black and white outfits.

Sorry, Not Sorry

Lokius. Apology kink, sex

When Loki apologised during sex, Mobius learns he has an apology kink. Loki uses this to his advantage.

Spank You Very Much

Lokius. Bratty behaviour, spanking, light D/s

Loki loves playing pranks, not just because he’s the God of Mischief, but because Mobius will bend him over his knee and spank him. Mobius loves Loki playing pranks, not just because he gets to spank him, but because the trickster will tell him he’s sorry over and over again.

When blue meets green

Lokius. Oral sex, anal sex

When a strange looking Mobius variant enters his election trailer, President Loki has no idea why the time agent is here in the Void and why he wants to talk to him. It turns out talking is not what he’s here for.

[chaneajoyyy]

Who’s writing new BP fics? It’s feeling kinda dry out here

Oh you gotta keep looking cause they out here!!!

NEW/NEW-ISH BP FICS

- winter wonderland series (25 days of christmas challenge), Chunk series (updated)- @ghostfacekill-monger

- you better watch out series (25 days of christmas challenge), baby daddy series- @teakturn

- couple’s getaway series, message therapist erik, erik and you have relationship issues that need to be resolved, incubus erik x reader series, gamer erik humiliates his girl, christmas wishes & mistletoe kisses series, all vampire eriks stories, drug dealer erik gets ino an entaglement with a married woman series, erik teaching his daughter how to love her dark skin, assassin erik and his girl london make up for lost time-   @nahimjustfeelingit-writes

- all i want series- @thadelightfulone

- the jabari that stole christmas, misfit wakandans, er*k in a box, t’challa’s 12 days of christmas, the jabari-cracker, christmas even will find erik, the coffee prince series (updated), song of stevens (not new but do read), will the bell ring? (updated)-  @eerythingisshaka

- chrismasing with you-  @ceeverse

- mama is wild, how he acts when he’s sick: m’baku “mama’s other baby’ jabari, peaches, how he acts whe he’s sick: erik “i can do it myself” stevens, how he acts when he’s sick: t’challa i’m fine” udaku, final decision, body pillow, the most dangerous game-  @akimi-youngblood

- his majesty, my king series; he chosen bride, a jabari wedding (not so new but do read), he wasn’t mad enough for me, clean-up woman, i wish you would, mistletoe series, dadmonger series- @snowbaku

- what if...?, without question, polaroids, the temple series, queen shuri, wh you are series-  @tchallasbabymama

- biggest puddle ever, crab legs, play fighting, the fight, let me tell you a story, stop, got it bad, what would you do series, sugar babe series, poetic justice, messing w/ erik while he’s playing the game, erik had a reputation of being a fuckboy. tha meant you had to be careful around him. guard your heart. it was a solid plan until he came in and ruined all your plans- @dreamingofmilk

- our christmas, how to feel, warm colors series (not so new but do read), thanksgiving w/ mr. stevens, valentine’s gumbo (sequel to thankgiving with mr. stevens)-  @mermaidchansons

- she likes me, huh? nuh uh, cute enough to eat, screams in the night series (updated), open up, autumn leave & cookie thieves, one way or another, mr. telephone series, you ain’t hear that?- @supersizemeplz (check masterlist)

- anniversary blues, the chosen one series (updated), the sweetest thing series, in the light series-  @devnicolee

- the arrival series, boxer!baku series (updated), fireflies and foot races, sessions-  @muse-of-mbaku

- 85 “you can’t cum unless i say so” & 89 “you’re drooling. you really don’t deserve it though, do you?”, seventy-three, “29, 75 & 82″, “5, 13, & 69″- @marvelmaree

- subconscious- @freddiefcknmercury

- shameful series- @iwrite4poc

- only forever series, what lies beneath series,bunme takes new york (part of space between series)- @dramaqueeenamby

- letters for my love series, just for this moment series, she’s mine series, abiona au series- @sarcastic-sunshines

- redemption series (updated), starlight series, dress up- @airis-paris14

- new start series (with “reader meets erik who is a single father”), round 2 series, reader sleeping over a erik’s, “erik and reader are opposites- like she’s so nice, calm and soft, and erik is mean... as always and his family is so confused on how they’re dating”, imagine where erik and the reader has heir firs date and when he get home he’s super excited and tell his friends how happy and in love he is?, erik with goofy reader on a mission, reader catching erik using her expensice skincare products afer she told him it’s off limit, hug time, erik ghosting after a fight with his gf & she hears he’s out acting single so she decide she’s single too. but he shows up & all like “who said we broke up?”,  reader is not answering her phone and erik is worried/irrirated because the day before he was mean to her and she left his house crying?, an imagine where erik finding out the reader is powerful (like a mutant), erik & mbaku fighting over the reader, found you series, erik helping his need tomboy bff get a makeover & he starts to get jealous of how much attention she starts to get from other guys,  vulnerable soft erik where he and the reader get into an argument and later that night he’s trying to sleep but can’t because she’s refusing to come to bed with him and he has to be vulnerable with her and tells her “you know i can’t sleep without you”?, “short imagine or headcanon ha erik finds out his girlfriend has more body’s then him or his a mafia leader, something between those lines. but instead of being upset for her not telling him he’s actually cool with it”, erik comforting the reader after finding out she lost a loved one and he had a good day, reader learns she’s pregnant and comes up with a creative way to tell erik , erik and the reader are set up on a blind date by mutual friends, “reader is studying for her upcoming test and she is frustrated with the amount of studying she has to do.  erik notices she has been studying for a long time, and tries to do everything to relax her mind”, erik takes reader to wakanda for the first time, erik sees his girl still sleep with a stuffed animal and by kinda makes fun of her but when she puts it up he sees she struggles withouth it?, “imagine with erik inspired by the somg caretaker by dram and sza, like maybe the reader is feeling a bit ill/nauseous and erik to take care of her”, diaper change, sofboi erik where he asks the reader to marry him, hc of erik being jealous of his girl is too close to t’challa? always texting/wanting to hang out when they visit, back to you series, readering driving erik nuts with cravings & mood swings. ex: interrupting his sleep for food runs only to say she doesn’t want that anymore when he returns & demand something else, “ whatever you’re trying to butter me up for, the answer is no”?, how did he meet his love?, life together, your first time, hurting, fears, sick day, jealous series, when you’re sick, night fights, two lines, opening up, newborn, comfort, some love, insecure, first steps, it’s time series, cool down time, first day back- @killmongerdrabbles

- back & forth-  @supremethunda

- baby mama series, again, move, guess, night, nsfw alphabet, bow- @woahitslucyylu

- reactions o their girl’s wap (with erik), erik and reader being petty in the house after an argument-  @tastingmellow

- next lifetime series, days off with erik, girls trip series (updated),the way you make me feel- @theficplug

-  only then am i human series,a little vacation- @opalsandlace

-faded series, waves series, concrete cowboys series, black boys bloom thors first series (volume 3)- @uzumaki-rebellion

- black tie event-  @laketaj24

- genuine, numb- @taterfics

- city boy and his country girl series, wake up, meet the furys- @blackmissfrizzle

- come thru, this lil’ game we play-  @writetimes

- in between the lines series- @melodyofmbaku

- him, her and us series; conversations and coffee trips series, dancing around each oher series, mrs., you again series, where are we now?, cold coffee, here we are again series, summer love (could be any of the marvel men including t’challa); love, apps, and attitudes series; give me a reason (search for t’challa x reader)-  @iliketowrite1996

- homewrecker series (updated), family reunion- @shaekingshitup

- unexpected things happen in the clucky’s drive-thru, where you going: a quarantine quickie, halloween, delicate series, the best man-  @majesticbrownjawn

- i like tha series (updated), shea butter (baby) series  @nachtaiwrites

- the spririt of christmas, dentist series (updated), waiting to get home, best friends series, line love series, hell loves satin: tales of a mascochist, tattoo party- @hearteyes-for-killmonger

- uncharted series (updated), metamorphasis series, the remodel series, the boy is mine series (collab with @dashhoney25), sweet heat, quarantine bae, throttle, sugar, toxic, fair is fair, work boo (updated)-  @soufcakmistress

- caught up series- @twistedcharismaaa

- homebody series- @truglori

- roadtrip series- @cecereads209

- lights out, a better man- @reelwriter19

- you mean it? series, haunted series- @heykillmongerluhme

- end in flames series, my health- @bvlckgirlmvgix (not so new but do check out!)

***PLEASE HIT ME UP TO ADD YOUR STORIES!!!***

[codewordpumpkin]

A Very Denny Christmas

Merry Christmas, @heart4hawkeye​ !! I’m so sorry I couldn’t post this sooner! I don’t even know if you’ve ever watched Boston Legal before, but hopefully, you’ll enjoy this little fic nonetheless!!

“Really, Reddington? Your Blacklister couldn’t wait until after the holidays? It’s Christmas Eve, for god’s sake.”

“I’m sorry, Donald, did you have something better planned? Well, don’t pout or shout just yet. If you’ve been a particularly good boy this year, you may just find a gift from Santa waiting for you at home… or on your doorstep if you’d prefer the illusion of security—I know the FBI loves that.”

Cooper’s brows furrowed as his temples began to throb. “Reddington.”

Red was adept at picking his battles.

“Denny Crane,” he said, as if the name alone was explanation enough.

“The CEO of Flamingo Corp.?” Elizabeth asked.

“The one and only.”

“I still don’t get how he thought that’d be a good name for an arms company,” Aram said from his spot behind his computer.

“Don’t try to get into the head of Denny Crane—it’ll only make yours ache.”

Hands on his hips, Ressler asked, “Is he the next person on the Blacklist?”

“Heavens, no! Denny is a dear associate of mine, and he is to remain untouched by you ham-fisted lot.”

“Get on with it, Red.”

“Relax, Harold. I was, as you so eloquently put it, getting there.” Brushing imaginary lint off his pristine vest, the infuriating man smiled blandly, reveling in the glares burning holes in his suit as he took his sweet time to elaborate. “The man has a memory of a goldfish, hence why he carries around a voice recorder everywhere he goes. That is the key to our next Blacklister.”

“Are you going to tell us who this Blacklister is?”

“All in due time, Samar. All in due time.”

“How are we going to get our hands on this recorder?”

“You mean, your hands. Really, Elizabeth, modesty doesn’t become you.” Before she could snap a retort, he continued, “Denny is hosting a Christmas party this evening. I am invited, as is my plus one, and I have no doubt we’ll have at least one server slipping on banana peels tonight.”

“All right, then,” Cooper exhaled slowly, “brief Agent Keen on her cover, and—”

“Actually, Harold, I was thinking Agent Navabi should accompany me this time.”

That caught everyone’s attention.

“And why is that?”

“Ah, well, I know how much Elizabeth loathes dressing up for these things, so I thought, why not give her a little break—”

“I’ll take a break once we get this over with, Reddington,” Liz said, trying to will down the flush spreading across her cheeks. She hoped the tinge of hurt in her voice had gone undetected.

Cooper turned to Red, an expectant look on his weary face.

“Well, then,” he nodded, clearly displeased, “you’ll need a dress.”

***

“Raymond!”

“Denny!”

Elizabeth watched with mild amusement as the two men exchanged an enthusiastic bear hug. With sparkling eyes and stretched cheeks, they greeted each other rather boisterously, falling into a chatter as if they had never been apart. She was certain they were speaking English, but for the life of her, couldn’t understand what in the world they were actually saying.

“Well, well, well, well, well, and who might this goddess be?”

The stout, rosy-faced man openly leered at her, scrutinizing her from the toes of her strappy heels to the top of her styled head, then dipping back down to gaze at her modest curves. She, too, took the time to scan his appearance, glancing at his expensive tux only fleetingly before zeroing in on the ridiculous headband that held a conspicuously tall sprig of mistletoe.

“Ah,” Red acted as though he had forgotten her very existence, “Denny, meet Elizabeth. Elizabeth, meet Denny.”

Smiling politely, she reached out her hand—which Denny immediately grasped, stamping a kiss just beneath her knuckles. “I’m sure it’s a pleasure to meet me, Lizzie,” he said so smoothly that, for a second, she thought she had misheard him. She also had to apply considerable force to tug her hand out of his stubborn grip. “Denny Crane.”

She wasn’t sure whether Red’s twitch was a result of Crane calling her Lizzie, or if it was because of his overly friendly touch. Either way, his reaction didn’t bother her. In fact, she could admit to herself, she rather liked it.

“Of course,” she finally responded.

Turning to Red, he said in a stage whisper, “You sly dog, still got the touch, eh? But, say… isn’t she a bit old for you? What say I take—”

“Keep your pants where they are, Denny,” Red cut him off, his smile no longer reaching his eyes. “Did I mention Elizabeth’s a vegan?”

She blinked.

Denny blinked.

“What the hell is that?” his associate asked, genuinely confused. “Listen, there aren’t many kinks I don’t know about, but kids today—”

“It means, she not only doesn’t eat meat,” he continued to lie, “she doesn’t consume any animal products at all.”

Gasping, Denny snapped, “Now why the hell would you do that? What, is she anti-gun, too?”

“Careful, Denny,” he warned gravely, “just the word g-u-n is enough to get her shaking in her heels. Point a water-gun in her face, and she’ll scream bloody murder.”

Where the hell was he going with this?

“A veggie and a communist! Where’d you pick this one up, Red? Los Angeles?” Before Red could respond, he waved a dismissive hand. “Well, whatever. You must keep her around for a reason…” He waggled his brows, then winked as if she wasn’t right there. Straightening his bow, he offered her his hand. “Care for a dance, sweetheart? I’ll show you just how well my body moves… Denny Crane.”

“Actually—”

“Sure,” she shot Red a meaningful look, hoping he understood what she was trying to convey, “I’d love to.”

Just before they left for the dance floor, Denny again stage-whispered, “There’s a g-u-n in my pants I’d bet my life she—”

“Denny—”

By then, the egotistical, borderline-predator flirt was too far away for him to strangle. Or gut. Or maim.

Trying not to let Raymond’s withering glare distract her from her task, she brought one of her hands up to rest on Denny’s puffed chest. “So, how did you meet Raymond?” she casually asked, doing her best to maintain a respectable distance between them—which was easier said than done, considering he was doing his best to plaster their bodies together. On the bright side, that meant he was too preoccupied to notice her wandering fingers.

“Why talk about that fat cat when we can talk about Denny Crane? Go ahead, ask me anything.” He continued before she could. “Why, yes, I’m very giving in bed. I’ll go down—”

“To the bar,” Red said, appearing from out of nowhere just as Denny was about to grope her ass. “There was a leggy blonde looking for you.”

“Leggy, you say? How many legs are we talking here? You know, my father once said that the best sex—”

“She won’t be waiting all night, Denny. I’d run as fast as I can if I were you.”

Was she imagining the threat laced in his words?

“We’ll have to continue this later, Lizzie.” Dropping her like a hot potato, he licked his lips and turned to dash. Looking over his shoulder, he bid, “Keep her warm for me, Ray.”  

Luckily for him, he was surprisingly fast.

“I got the recorder,” she quietly confirmed to Red, assuming that was the reason he had interrupted her dance with Denny. “I’ll just pass it to Ressler or Samar—”

“The song isn’t over yet, Lizzie,” he said, reclaiming his nickname for her with a glint of… something in his eyes, his voice.

With one hand in hers and the other low on her back, he encouraged her to fall into step with him, their movements easy and natural. But even when the song ended and changed, they didn’t stop, instead slowing further and sinking into the lulling rhythm of the music.

She wasn’t aware of when or how it had happened, but she belatedly realized just how close their faces were. A mere inch forward would allow her to graze her nose against his smooth skin, inhale the clean, unique scent of him. A little closer, and she would be able to taste the champagne on his lips. With a gentle pressure, a slight gasp, she could so easily—

They jumped apart at the sound of a loud crash.

It didn’t take long for them to discern where the commotion was coming from, as there was already a loose crowd forming near the bar—and at the very center of it was none other than Denny Crane.

He was standing across from a scowling man and a tall blonde woman…

Raymond and Elizabeth both had a feeling they knew what had started this mess.

“I didn’t proposition her. I just asked her to have sex with me,” Denny announced, as if that was a perfectly acceptable thing to say.

The man’s face flushed with a worrisome shade of crimson, and to everyone’s horror, revealed that he was seriously armed. Before he could do anything with it, however, a loud bang shocked everyone still.

On his previously unblemished pants, right in the middle of his thigh, was a bright blob of yellow… paint?

“Oops. Wrong one.” Bending down, Denny retrieved a small gun that had been strapped to his ankle. “Denny Crane doesn’t get shot at,” he yelled, aiming at the man’s other thigh and pulling the trigger without hesitation. “Denny Crane shoots!”

Chaos commenced as the two literally engaged in a gun fight. Bullets whizzed, screams erupted, glass shattered. People ran this way and that, tripping over dresses, abandoning stilettos, and doing their best to escape with their flesh in tact.

“I was a sniper in the Navy!… Or was I a helicopter pilot?” Now with a gun in each hand, Denny shot bullet after bullet, shouting as he ducked and spun. “I have an erection. Lock and load, baby! Denny Crane!”

“That’s our cue to leave,” Red said in her ear, practically dragging her by the elbow. On their way out, he released her briefly to stop Ressler from getting involved. Something on the ground caught her eye, and she used the few seconds she had to take it, attempting not to get trampled on in the process. “Lizzie. Now.”

This time, they didn’t stop walking until they were safely encased in the back of his car, Dembe driving them out into the night.

Keeping her stolen object carefully hidden, she turned to Red and smirked. “Well, that was interesting.”

“That’s one way of saying it,” he said, chuckling.

He leaned back, settling into the seat and closing his eyes. Knowing an opportunity when she saw one, she gripped the accessory from beside her hip and placed it on his head, refusing to move away as he jerked and snapped his eyes back open.

She didn’t give him a chance to question her.

She didn’t give herself the chance.

Not wanting to waste another second, she pressed her mouth to his.

The kiss was chaste, but it lingered—long enough for her to notice just how soft his lips were. And although she had always been more of a wine girl, she reveled in the fact that she really could taste the remnants of champagne, the crisp flavor blending with subtle, intoxicating notes that could only be described as him.

Finally, after seconds or minutes—time was irrelevant to her at that moment—she pulled back, still close enough to feel his radiating heat and sense his racing pulse. Just as his thumb had stroked the small of her back, she used hers to brush his lips, his jaw, before reaching up to flick the mistletoe hanging above them.

“Merry Christmas, Red,” she said, just as softly as her smile.

Pushing his tongue against the inside of his cheek, slowly gathering his wits, he tentatively reached for her hand and tangled their fingers together. “Merry Christmas, Lizzie.”

Neither of them spoke for the rest of the ride, but both knew that they didn’t need to.

Words could wait.

For now, they had each other.

Finally.

[opalescent-cheetah]

Christmas Sweater (Witney)

For @artificialperidot for the @rpdrficexchange. Merry Christmas! I hope you enjoy this fic <33

Two prompts inspired this story: “Character A loses a bet and has to wear a different ugly Christmas sweater every day till Christmas. Character B works at a clothes store” and “Character A doesn’t feel the Christmas spirit but Character B, who lives above them, keeps playing Christmas carols really loud”.

Huge thanks to @veronicasanders for betaing - you’re amazing!

Willam can still hear Alaska’s gleeful laugh in her mind.

She can’t believe she’s doing this, but she’s not the type to back down. Not even after losing a bet she was at least ninety percent sure she was going to win. No, wait – especially not after losing a bet like that. Willam’s going to wear these god-awful sweaters every day until Christmas and look so good Alaska’s going to wonder what she got herself into.

Well, that’s not exactly true, Willam thinks as she grimaces down at her basket of ugly Christmas sweaters. They’re misshapen and baggy, and far too colourful, even for her. The collection is nothing short of an eyesore. Five days shouldn’t feel like a long time, but when Willam has to picture herself walking around looking like a sentient Christmas tree, it might as well be an eternity. She’s never liked Christmas much to begin with, and these ridiculous sweaters are only going to make the holiday season that much more dreadful. 

She rifles through the rack of garish designs to pick out another of the slightly more bearable sweaters. It’s red and white, patterned with snowflakes and stripes and little reindeer standing so close together they look like they’re about to kiss. It’s the fifth and final one; she shoves it into her basket and turns to walk towards the cash register. The cashier looks away quickly, hiding an amused smile behind her hand, and red-hot embarrassment floods through Willam when she realises that she had been watching the entire time.

She marches resolutely up to the counter, trying not to look as disgruntled as she feels. The cashier – Courtney, according to her nametag – offers her a dazzling smile as Willam places the basket between them. Willam refuses to look her in the eye, partly because she doesn’t want to see the quietly amused gleam she knows she’ll find there, and partly because Courtney is fucking gorgeous and, in a situation like this, Willam doesn’t quite know what to do with herself. If they were at a club, she would be boundlessly more confident, but here – when Courtney is struggling to stifle a smile as she scans the tags of each sweater – she feels a little bit like a baby animal, wobbly and unsure.

“Oh, this is one of my favourites,” Courtney says, holding up the red-and-white reindeer sweater and jolting Willam out of her reverie. “You’re really getting into the Christmas spirit, hmm?”

“I, uh… no,” Willam manages. “They’re for my family.” The lie comes quickly enough, and Willam is thankful for it.

Courtney just smiles sweetly, knowingly, and something shifts deep in Willam’s chest. She leans on the counter, forces it back down, as Courtney nods and scans the tag. “That’s very nice of you,” she comments, folding up the sweater with dextrous familiarity before gently placing it in a brown paper bag.

Willam pays quickly, itching to get out of the store as soon as possible. This experience is twisting her up in knots – she just wants to get home and verbally slap Alaska through the phone. She can feel Courtney’s eyes on her as she leaves, and, against the more rational side of her mind screaming at her to just go, she looks over her shoulder just in time to catch Courtney waving. She simply inclines her head in acknowledgement, the image of Courtney’s gentle, cheerful smile burned into the back of her mind.

 ~

 Everything on the television is boring.

Willam’s skin is prickling with restlessness as she sits sideways in her armchair, limbs spilling out over its edges. The distant click, click as she scrolls through shows blends into background noise, merging with the quiet humming of the heater. She’s curled up in one of the sweaters – the red-and-white reindeer one, which she has to admit is probably her favourite of the whole tasteless lot – and it’s surprisingly warm and cosy, wrapping around her like a warm hug.

And then the singing starts again.

Willam’s been hearing it on and off all night, through the roof from the apartment upstairs. Her skin crawls with irritation; sure, it’s Christmas Eve, but would a quiet evening be too much to ask? The person singing may have an incredible voice, but they’re still being so loud.

After a moment of stewing in her own exasperation, Willam realises the song she’s hearing through the roof is unfamiliar. At first, she’d thought it must’ve been one of those overplayed Christmas songs (especially considering the time of year) but the tune isn’t something she recognises.

She stills, quieting the shuffling of the cushions beneath her restless body, and lets herself listen. As soon as she catches the words mistletoe and Santa, she realises the song is, in fact, in theme with the season, and her irritation floods right back.

Willam has never been a Christmas person. It’s never been much more than another day of dealing with drunk extended family and being forced to help fish the Christmas tree out of the swimming pool. She likes buying gifts for people – the pile of neatly wrapped presents under the miniature tree Alaska gave her will attest to that – but the rest of the holiday has always seemed like a lot of wasted effort.

Whoever’s singing still hasn’t shut up, and Willam has decided that she has had enough. Flinging the remote onto the cushions, she marches out of her apartment and up the stairs, shivering at the cold touch of tile beneath her bare feet.

It isn’t difficult to locate the singer’s apartment. Willam knocks loudly, crossing her arms as she waits. The singing is abruptly cut off before it is replaced by the shuffling of footsteps.

When the door opens, Willam isn’t sure whether she wants to laugh or cry: standing before her is none other than Courtney, the cashier from the clothing store. She’s even more startlingly beautiful than Willam remembers – perhaps it’s the surprised glint in her green eyes, or the slight quirk at the corner of her lips. Willam wants to sink into the ground at the sight of her.

“Hey, I know you. You bought all those sweaters last week,” Courtney says by way of a greeting, her eyes sweeping over Willam’s body before she raises a hand to her face, hiding her smile. “Decided not to give that one to your family, I see.”

Willam feels immediately too big for her skin, her embarrassment running red-hot through her veins. She swallows, forcing her expression to remain neutral and unbothered.

“You were singing very loudly,” she says simply, feeling her confidence trickle back in when Courtney visibly flushes.

“I’m so sorry! I had no idea the walls were so thin.” Courtney looks abashed – and rightfully so, Willam thinks, but that doesn’t stop her heart from thrumming just that little bit faster when Courtney offers her a nervous smile, peering at her from under her lashes.

The silence that follows is awkward. After shuffling her feet for a moment, Willam makes to leave, but Courtney jumps in before she gets a chance to speak.

“Well, uh… since we’re neighbours, I suppose I should formally introduce myself,” she says. “I’m Courtney.”

“Willam.”

“Willam…” Courtney rolls the word around on her tongue, trying it out, and Willam likes how her name sounds in her lilting accent. “Anyways, Willam… now that you’re here, would you like to stay for dinner?” Courtney offers before she pauses suddenly, looking flustered. “O-Only if you’re free, of course! I made myself Christmas dinner but I think I made too much.”

Courtney looks adorable when she’s blushing. 

“I’m free,” Willam tells her, failing to bite back a grin.

“You look really cute in that sweater, by the way.” There’s a cheeky glint in Courtney’s eyes, and Willam’s insides melt under her gaze, unsure whether she should take it as a compliment or a friendly jab.

“I know. I look good in everything,” she manages to reply breezily, stepping over the threshold.

“I won’t argue with that.” Courtney winks, playful, before turning to lead the way into the kitchen, where she pulls out a seat at the dining table and gestures for Willam to sit.

“You learning to be a waitress?” Willam teases when Courtney pushes the chair in under her. “Do I have to give you a tip for helping me into my seat?”

“Wow, who knew I could be rewarded for good manners?” Courtney replies, and Willam grins. She’s liking Courtney more and more with every second she spends in her apartment.

Courtney then disappears behind the kitchen counter, and Willam hears the clatter of plates and cutlery. She fiddles with the edge of her sweater, twisting it up in her fingers, before she asks, “so what were you singing, anyways?”

Courtney’s head bobs back up and she slides dinnerware onto the countertop. “Nothing, really,” she says, and Willam likes the rosy tint of her cheeks. “Just a song I’m writing.”

“You write songs?” Willam can’t help but be impressed. “Sing me a line or two.”

“Are you sure? Couldn’t you hear it the entire time anyways?”

“Yeah, but I’m sure it’ll be nicer when I’m not hearing it through the roof.”

Courtney murmurs her agreement, and part of Willam regrets berating her for the noise. The other part doesn’t – otherwise she wouldn’t be here, sitting in Courtney’s kitchen waiting to share dinner with her.

She watches as Courtney taps the countertop with her fingertips, hears her gently clear her throat before she starts to sing.

“From head to mistletoe

I’ll never let you go

You’re what I’m wishing for

Santa keep me warm tonight…”

She sounds even better in person. Courtney trails off shyly, and Willam starts to clap, a smile tugging at the corners of her face.

“How was that?” Courtney asks, voice soft.

“Bitch, that was fucking amazing. I regret telling you to shut up.”

Courtney giggles. “Probably better that it was you and not the guy that lives upstairs. He scares me.”

Willam has no idea who she’s talking about, but she nods anyways. She watches quietly as Courtney sets the table before bringing out dishes of food, delicious but unfamiliar smells wafting to Willam’s nose.

“Holy shit. You really did overcook,” she mutters, peering at the dishes lined up on the table. There’s mashed potato, a variety of vegetables ranging from cauliflower through to carrots, and something that looks like dry scrambled eggs but smells like curry. “What’s this?” she asks, gesturing to the mystery dish.

“Curried tofu scramble,” Courtney replies. “I’m vegan, so… sorry if you were expecting a turkey.”

“Nah. Turkeys are overrated. I’m lactose, anyways, so at least this means I can eat your mashed potatoes.”

Courtney smiles. “That works out then. Do you drink?”

“’Course. What’ve you got?”

“I’m making my friend Vanity’s Christmas cocktail. If you could call it that, anyways – it’s really just champagne and orange juice, but it’s nice.” Courtney swirls the bottle of juice around for emphasis. “Do you want some?”

“‘Christmas cocktail?’ Just sounds to me like your friend thinks she invented mimosas,” Willam tells her wryly.

Courtney’s standing in the open door of the freezer now, surrounded by icy smoke like dragon’s breath. “Technically, you’re right, but” – she digs around, pulling out a plastic container – “we put sorbet in ours.”

“Sorbet?” Willam asks, startled. “It’s fucking freezing and you’re eating sorbet?”

“Trust me, I know,” Courtney laughs. “But it’s the middle of summer in Australia right now.” 

So that’s where her accent is from. The foreign lilt to her words only makes her more endearing.

“I’ll give it a shot,” she tells Courtney, who puts a generous scoop of sorbet in two glasses.

They make small talk during dinner, and more often than not, Willam catches herself staring: she likes the way Courtney smiles when she speaks, her eyes alight with a wistful joy. Her gaze keeps drifting back to Courtney’s glossy lips, and every time, she has to force herself to look away. She feels tender and relaxed – perhaps it’s the champagne in her drink, but Willam’s pretty sure it’s Courtney.

They discuss their family Christmas traditions; Willam learns that this is Courtney’s first December away from home, that Courtney had called her parents earlier that evening because it’s already Christmas Day in Australia. She listens as Courtney recalls fond memories of summer days on the beach, tanning in the hot December sun and sharing Christmas cocktails with her best friend, Vanity. Willam can’t get the image of Courtney in a bikini, skin glowing gold against the sand, out of her head, and she fights the blush that threatens to creep up her neck.

Courtney asks about Christmas in Pennsylvania, and Willam tells her about the year the Christmas tree ended up bobbing in the pool, about sneaking liquor while her family was cooking, and about sledding down hills thick with snow. Courtney listens with wide-eyed intrigue, and it makes Willam feel important – like what she’s saying really means something.

“That sounds like so much fun,” Courtney says. “Did you really get that much snow every year?”

Willam shrugs. “Most years, I guess.” Her chest warms at the glow in Courtney’s eyes, and she wonders suddenly if she should invite her to Alaska’s Christmas party tomorrow. Courtney’s presence alone would make the small talk and the boring holiday traditions that much more tolerable, but above all, Willam would love to see her again. She can feel the doubtful part of her stirring in the back of her mind, whispering that it’s too forward, that Courtney will say no. 

And then Willam remembers that she’s the kind of person who usually doesn’t have doubts – or, if she does, she ignores them – but as she turns back to Courtney, she realises her gaze is now somewhere else, her focus abruptly torn from Willam. 

“Willam,” she whispers, sounding awestruck, “it’s snowing!”

“No way. This is LA – it never snows,” Willam says dubiously, but when she spins in her seat to face the window, she sees hundreds of tiny white flakes drifting, as light as bubbles, through the air. 

Courtney has already jumped up from her seat, her face pressed against the windowpane as it fogs up with her breath. “It’s a Christmas miracle,” she gasps, clearly enthralled. Willam joins her at the window, standing just close enough for their elbows to brush, and peers outside.

“Nope. Just a snow machine.” She points upwards, where the edge of the machine is just visible. “People like to make things look more festive than they really are.”

“You’re such a party pooper,” Courtney pouts, but Willam can see in her eyes that she isn’t really serious.

“Yeah, and you’re gullible,” Willam replies, deadpan. Courtney giggles, shoving her away playfully, and Willam feels her face break out into a smile. She isn’t sure whether to love or hate what Courtney’s doing to her; it’s like snow is falling softly in her chest, feather-light flakes brushing her ribs, but when they touch her they melt into warmth.

They move to the couch after that, and Courtney pulls a blanket over their legs. They sit and talk whilst Courtney absentmindedly traces the shapes of the reindeer on Willam’s sleeve. Willam’s arms tingle at every touch, goosebumps shivering up her skin despite the comfort of her sweater.

Willam loses track of time, huddled beside Courtney; all she’s aware of is Courtney’s presence, the excitement in her voice as she rambles. She has never been so enamoured by someone before, and she wants to treasure this entire evening. She’s going to wrap it up like a Christmas gift, preserve it, so that she can open it later and feel this delicate warmth all over again. This isn’t like her, and she knows it – but something about Courtney has drawn her in, made her soft.

And then Willam catches sight of the clock, ticking quietly on Courtney’s wall. It’s nearly eleven – for a dinner with someone she’s just met, she’s long overstayed her welcome.

“It’s getting late,” she says abruptly, pushing the blanket aside and getting to her feet. “I – I should probably go.”

Courtney’s eyes dart towards the clock, and she lets out a quiet gasp. “Wow, I had no idea we were talking for that long.” She stands beside Willam, wraps her in a careful hug. “Thanks for spending Christmas Eve with me, Willam,” she says, breath hot against Willam’s cheek. “Will I see you again sometime?”

Courtney’s cheeks are rosy with hopeful sincerity, and Willam starts talking before she can second-guess herself again. “Actually… my friend Alaska is hosting a Christmas party tomorrow, from three till ten pm. Do you wanna be my plus-one?”

She is rewarded with the immediate brightening of Courtney’s eyes. “I’d love to! Here I was expecting that this Christmas was going to be boring… thank goodness you showed up when you did.” She giggles, and Willam smiles.

“I’m a miracle-worker, I know.” She flips her hair over her shoulder, feigning arrogance. “No need to tell me twice.”

Courtney snickers. “You certainly don’t need to hear it twice, you dog!”

“I prefer ‘classy and elegant goddess’, thank you very much.”

“Oh my god, you are too much!” Courtney laughs as she follows Willam to the door. “I can’t believe I agreed to spending an entire afternoon with you tomorrow.”

“Girl, you know you love me,” Willam winks.

“I’m not going to give you the satisfaction of hearing me agree to that.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Willam sings as she steps over the threshold, back into the cold of the hallway. When she arrived here hours ago, she was restless and irritated; now, she’s leaving with a new number in her phone and a smile on her face.

She turns to wave, and Courtney grins, pointing at her chest. “You should wear that more often, by the way. It suits you.”

Warmth blooms behind Willam’s ribs. Maybe she can pull off ugly Christmas sweaters after all.

 ~

 Courtney’s already waiting downstairs.

Willam sees her through the elevator glass as it descends. She’s leaning back into the leather upholstery of the couch, legs crossed at the knee, absent-mindedly drumming her fingers as she watches the passers-by. She looks lovely in her rose-grey coat, blonde hair spilling out beneath a pink beanie. There’s a white scarf wound around her neck and Willam imagines tugging it gently to pull her closer, close enough to kiss.

She shakes the thought from her mind immediately.

Courtney glances over, suddenly alert, when the elevator pings. Her eyes light up when she sees Willam before she abruptly bursts into laughter.

“What are you laughing at, ma’am?” Willam asks wryly as she strides across the tiled floor, stopping mere inches from the couch, where Courtney stands to greet her.

“Lovely choice of outfit today,” Courtney snickers in response. “I see you’re going to have to rethink some of those family gifts.”

Shit. Willam had forgotten she was wearing the final ugly sweater under her unbuttoned coat – after close to a week it had almost become monotonous. This one is far less preferable to yesterday’s reindeer, and Willam marvels at her own stupidity for leaving it for Christmas Day. It looks like a patchwork quilt in the shape of a sweater: pieces of red, white and green are held together by white borders like frosting. Miscellaneous images decorate the garment, and Willam isn’t even sure if half of them are relevant: there’s a bag of flour and an eye surrounded by rainbow sequins, among other odd things. The sweater is an ugly amalgamation of neon-bright colours and bold shapes; in short, it is an eyesore.

“Oh, shut up,” she tells Courtney.

Courtney straightens the collar of Willam’s jacket, her eyes gleaming mischievously. “I’m intrigued,” she says. “If you’re so embarrassed, why are you wearing it?”

“I was cold! You want me to freeze to death, bitch?”

The corner of Courtney’s mouth quirks upwards in amusement. “So, of all the things you could’ve chosen, you decided to wear this?”

“I can’t believe I’ve only known you a day and you’re already bullying me,” Willam deadpans, avoiding the question.

“Two days!”

“Okay. So we’re counting that time you laughed at me while I was shopping.”

“I wasn’t laughing at you, I was–”

“Bitch, you so were! I have eyes, you know!” Willam shrieks in laughter, pushing playfully at Courtney’s shoulder.

“Okay, okay, so maybe I thought you were kinda funny,” Courtney admits. “But you still haven’t answered my question!”

Willam sighs, defeated – Courtney clearly is not going to let the matter drop. “Fine. I lost a bet to Alaska, and she made me wear a different sweater every day until Christmas. You happy now?”

Courtney lets out a laugh. “I knew it was something like that! What did you bet on?”

“I’m not going to answer that,” Willam tells Courtney sagely, turning on her heel and striding towards the door to wait for their Uber. Courtney giggles, heels clicking as she follows.

They don’t have to wait long. Willam slides into the backseat beside Courtney, who primly folds her hands in her lap. She remains silent, distracted, even after Willam speaks to the driver and the car departs. It takes Willam a moment to realise she’s humming under her breath, forehead creased in concentration.

“Hey, is that your song?” Willam asks. The tune is quiet but familiar, taking her back to her evening in Courtney’s kitchen.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” Courtney’s cheeks are pink. “I���m just a bit stuck on a lyric.”

“Sing it for me,” Willam prompts her. 

“Okay. It’s the first verse that I can’t figure out, but this is what I have so far,” Courtney says, before launching into song.

“I never thought that I would be

Your gift under the Christmas tree

Unwrap me ’cause it’s Christmas Eve…”

She trails off into a hum after that, quietly tapping her fingers to the beat of the song.

“I’ll do you one better,” Willam says when Courtney goes quiet. She clears her throat, singing, “Come eat me out, it’s Christmas Eve…”

“Willam! You filthy dog!” Courtney shrieks, mouth agape, and Willam dissolves into hearty, seal-like laughter. It’s the perfect way for her to drop hints that she’s a lesbian, and be funny at the same time – although Courtney isn’t laughing, not yet.

“What is it with you and calling people dogs?” Willam retorts, still gasping in amusement.

“Well, it’s better than ‘drongo’, isn’t it? I’m trying to be polite!” Courtney looks like she’s trying very hard – and failing miserably – to hold back a smile, and it only makes Willam laugh harder. She doesn’t even know what a drongo is, but Courtney’s Australian accent was so raw when she said it that Willam can’t help herself.

“Either way,” she tells Courtney when she’s calmed down, “if there’s any filthy dog in this car, it’s definitely you.”

Courtney swats her over the arm for that, but she’s smiling now, green eyes glittering with repressed amusement. Willam feels a spark of triumph, blazing bright behind her ribcage.

“That was lovely, but do you have any serious ideas?” Courtney asks her, leaning back into her seat.

Willam grins at her, not quite apologetically. “Mind singing the tune for me again?”

She listens quietly as Courtney hums. Thinking for a moment, she blurts out the first thing to come to mind. “Everyone’s sleeping, but… uh…”

“But we’re far from dreaming!” Courtney exclaims, as if she’s won a jackpot. “You genius!”

“I am, thank you for noticing,” Willam replies, pleased. She watches as Courtney types it into her phone and adds, “well, that’s one line down, and however many left to go.”

“Yeah. I’m thinking, for the rest of it, that the other person is dressed up as Santa,” Courtney says, pocketing her phone, “so I want there to be some… Santa-themed lines, if that makes sense.”

Willam nods distantly. Person. She can’t help but pay close attention to Courtney’s word choices.

“Willam?” Courtney snaps her fingers in Willam’s face, jolting her back to reality. “Did you hear me?”

“I – yes. Yeah, I was just thinking.” A pause. “Reindeer.”

Like yesterday’s sweater. The one Courtney said she liked the best when she was at the checkout.

Oh, how Willam wishes she’d worn it today instead of this ugly thing. At least it had been bearable. In fact, now that she’s come to associate it with Courtney, she’s even started to like it. Just a little.

“Reindeer,” Courtney murmurs thoughtfully. “Rudolph. Sleigh… sleigh bells?”

“That’s all great, but it’s not a coherent sentence,” Willam reminds her.

“Shush. This stuff takes time, you know,” she retorts, but her lips are quirked in the beginnings of a smile, and Willam can tell that Courtney enjoys this playful banter just as much as she does. She watches as Courtney thinks, mumbling soft phrases under her breath, and wonders how someone can manage to be so adorable.

“Give me more,” Courtney suddenly says, and Willam wrinkles her nose in distracted confusion.

“More what? Reindeer?”

This time she gets a laugh. “No, you idiot, Christmas words. I need more to work with.”

“Bitch, you know I’m not a Christmassy person,” Willam huffs. “Fine. Uh. Snow. Snowmen? Fuck, um, carrots. Cookies… cookies and milk.” She pauses, looking around for ideas, inspiration, anything. But what would she find in an Uber?

Her gaze drifts to her hands, clasped together in her lap, and it hits her. Her sweater!

She rolls up the sleeves of her coat to reveal more of the colourful patterns, and begins listing the things she sees. “The Virgin Mary and Baby Jesus. Uh, a glittery eyeball? Flour. And… cocaine.”

Courtney sputters out a laugh. “Cocaine? Where did you get cocaine from? That list was a train wreck and a half!”

Willam points to the lines of white wool bordering each patch. “Cocaine. Snort snort, bitch.”

Courtney shrieks with gleeful amusement. “Oh my god. I am not putting cocaine in my Christmas song.”

“Okay. How about weed?” Willam offers, feigning complete seriousness, and Courtney’s laughter starts up all over again.

“We’re here.” The driver interrupts them before Willam can think of more ways to make Courtney smile.

“Thank you kindly, and have a lovely day!” Courtney says as she steps out of the car.

“Ew. You are disgustingly polite,” Willam tells her.

“Well, you offered to tip me for it yesterday, so I’m not complaining.” Courtney bats her eyelashes, and Willam has to look away – she’s so cute it’s making her heart hurt.

Suddenly, there’s the clicking of heels on tarmac, and an excited voice calls out Willam’s name. She turns just in time to see Alaska’s arms fly around her shoulders, crushing her in a tight hug.

“Girl, you look fucking ridiculous,” Alaska tells Willam as she inspects her outfit. “And I love it.”

“Well, you better, because you’re the reason I look this stupid.”

Alaska chuckles, her gaze flicking briefly to Courtney. “Wow, and who’s this lovely woman? You could get some fashion tips from her, Willam.”

Courtney giggles, extending her hand to Alaska to shake. “I’m Courtney. Willam and I live in the same apartment block.”

“Lovely,” Alaska drawls, smiling jovially. “I’m Alaska, and that’s my girlfriend, Katya.” She waves at a blonde woman standing by the door, dressed from head to toe in bright red. Instead of waving back, Katya pulls out a rubber chicken and begins sucking loudly on it. Willam can hear the grotesque squelching noises from where she’s standing.

“Where the fuck was she even keeping that?” she asks, although she knows she shouldn’t be surprised in the slightest. It’s Katya, after all.

“Probably up her ass,” Alaska jokes, hiding a smile behind her hand before she calls out to Katya. “I can’t believe that chicken is getting more action than I am!”

Katya grins around the chicken, sensually pulling it out of her mouth. “Mama, when you’re busy, I have to find other ways to satisfy myself, you know!”

Alaska opens her mouth to respond, but Willam nudges her before she can say a word. 

“Let’s go in already,” she butts in. “It’s fucking freezing.”

Alaska murmurs her agreement, turning to lead them both inside. Courtney shoots Willam an excited grin as they follow, and Willam’s heart somersaults in her chest.

A small crowd of people has already arrived, and they mill about, swirling drinks in their hands as they chat. Alaska guides Willam, Courtney and Katya – who joined them at the door – through to the bar, where she pours them all drinks before taking a seat on a nearby couch.

“So tell me,” Alaska drawls, leaning back against the cushions with one arm around Katya’s shoulders. “Did you two meet recently? I’m surprised I haven’t heard about you yet,” she adds to Courtney.

“I was working the counter when Willam bought her sweaters,” Courtney explains. “Wait, are you the same Alaska she lost her bet to?”

“Girl, how many Alaskas do you think I know?” Willam scoffs. “Of course this is the one.”

“Has Willam told you the story yet?” Alaska asks, an eager gleam in her eye. “Or was she too embarrassed?”

“Too embarrassed,” Courtney laughs, and Willam huffs beside her.

“Would you like to hear it?” Alaska prompts, looking far too excited to share. Courtney nods eagerly, and Alaska launches into the story.

“Ok, so, Willam’s been really into fitness lately, and the other day, she challenged me to, like, a pull-up competition,” Alaska explains, grinning when she sees the miffed look on Willam’s face. “I upped the stakes by saying that whoever did less had to wear five different ugly Christmas sweaters, one for each day until Christmas.”

“I can already guess what happens next,” Courtney giggles.  

“Yeah. As you can tell, I obviously won,” Alaska beams, smug. “Willam was fucking pissed. She was so sure she had it in the bag.”

“Well, yeah. I mean, just look at those noodle arms!” Willam exclaims, gesturing wildly to Alaska’s spindly limbs. “You literally have no muscle mass. Zero. Zilch. Nada.”

“I mean, clearly there’s something here, otherwise you wouldn’t be wearing that awful repurposed patchwork quilt,” Alaska comments, flexing under her coat. Katya giggles, pulling a comically exaggerated smirk as she squeezes Alaska’s arm, and Alaska licks her cheek in response before they both dissolve into hysterics.

“I have to deal with this all the time,” Willam stage-whispers to Courtney with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “I’m the ultimate third-wheeler. The fucking best. I could make a career out of it.”

“Well, there’s a bet you won’t lose, at least,” Courtney snickers back.

“Fucking bitch,” Willam grins.

“Anyways, Willam,” Alaska says suddenly, hand still resting on Katya’s leg, “you should thank me, you know. If it weren’t for my incredible strength, you wouldn’t have met this gorgeous woman right here.” She gestures casually to Courtney. 

“Nah, I would’ve. She was singing loud enough to wake the dead last night.”

“Oh, and that’s why you heard,” Alaska quips. Beside her, Katya flails her arms in laughter, wriggling in her seat.

They talk for a little longer before Willam excuses herself to go to the bathroom, and Courtney leaves to pour herself another drink. Alaska and Katya sit in silence for several heartbeats, watching as they leave.

“Romance is afoot, Alaska! I can just smell it!” Katya says emphatically once they’re out of earshot, tugging at Alaska’s arm.

“I think you might be right,” Alaska replies, slow and thoughtful. “Maybe we should give them a little… nudge in the right direction?”

 ~

 Alaska and Katya have disappeared by the time Willam gets back from the bathroom. She glances around quizzically, but she can’t even spot Katya’s bright scarlet clothing in the crowd of partygoers.

“Did you see where they went?” she asks Courtney. It’s unlike Alaska to up and leave like that, but then again, she’s the host of the party. Willam’s sure she has plenty of other people she needs to talk to.

Courtney shakes her head. “I just went to get a drink. Turned around and they were gone.”

Willam shrugs, secretly pleased she gets to talk to Courtney one-on-one again. “It’s whatever. They’ll come back. In the meantime, we can chill.” She flops back into the couch cushions, and Courtney takes a delicate seat beside her.

Willam doesn’t get a chance to say anything else: something falls just in front of her face, and for the briefest of moments she thinks it’s a spider and nearly jumps out of her skin. Courtney, too, looks alarmed; her drink has sloshed over the rim of her glass and is dripping down its neck. When she looks again, Willam realises that the item is, in fact, a sprig of mistletoe, crudely tied to a string.

“Oh no,” a familiar voice suddenly drawls, and Willam whirls around to find Alaska crouching behind the couch, Katya bubbling with barely-contained laughter just beside her. “Where did this mistletoe come from? Oh my god, now you have to kiss! There’s no way out of it!”

“Alaska,” Willam growls through gritted teeth, “I hate you so fucking much.”

“You’ll thank me later,” she purrs, winking deviously.

“Fuck off,” Willam sighs before turning to Courtney, who is smiling awkwardly.

“This is… quite the interesting situation we’ve found ourselves in,” Courtney mumbles, tucking a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “If you don’t want to–”

“Willam never backs down from anything, ever,” Katya whispers to her, just loud enough for Willam to hear. “You know, I would just go with it… I’ve heard she’s pretty good with that mouth of hers.”

Courtney immediately turns beet red, and Willam’s heart beats faster, thudding rhythmically against her chest. She has to force it to slow, force her muscles to relax; she tells herself that this isn’t anything new. She’s kissed plenty of women in her time.

But none of them were Courtney, and that makes all the difference. Willam has never wanted someone like this; this is softer, like the brush of a feather or the first touch of snow. This want is warm and heavy in her chest. It feels more permanent, somehow, and Willam wants to be careful with it.

The sprig of mistletoe trembles before her eyes, bobbing in the air like a dancer. Alaska’s shaking the stick, silently urging Willam on, and it’s like a prod in the side; Willam leans forward, charged with nerves, skin hot and prickly under her sweater. Every touch is like fire.

Her lips meet Courtney’s and they are soft and warm. She can taste the strawberry in her lip gloss, smell the artificial sweetness of her shampoo. Willam feels like she is glowing from the inside out; like someone flipped a switch, and all the Christmas tree lights came on at once.

Then they’re drawing apart, huffing quietly, their cheeks rosy and warm. Willam loses herself in Courtney’s eyes, enveloped in a moment of bliss. But it’s tainted with awkwardness; these are hardly suitable circumstances for a first kiss. Definitely not with Alaska and Katya watching, hissing at each other to shut up and stop giggling.

“We should do that again sometime,” Willam manages with a false air of casualness, shattering the moment. Katya wheezes with glee, and Willam watches Courtney turn an even darker shade of crimson.

“You know where to find me,” she responds, smiling coyly, and something warm and soft stirs deep within Willam’s chest.

[katie-dub]

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year: The Tackiest Wreath Competition

Emma and Killian are tricked into a festive wreath making blind date.

Thank you for your continued lovely support for these fics - I’m still taking prompts if you’d like to send me one of your own!

AO3

Day 1 |  Day 2 |  Day 3 |  Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | Day 8 | Day 9

The Tackiest Wreath Competition

Killian was not sure what possessed Belle to suggest that they should do a wreath making class and he had even less idea what possessed him to accept. Him and wreath making were just incompatible: only having one hand made arts and crafts challenging and his idea of Christmas spirit was a good bottle of rum.

But Belle had begged him and he was always powerless to resist the call of a damsel in distress. Particularly when said damsel was his charming best friend.

So he was especially irritated when he arrived at the designated florists and took off his coat only to see a text message from Belle:

I’m so sorry, I’m not feeling well. Don’t worry, I’ve sent my friend Emma Swan along in my place so you won’t be there alone.x

His eyes narrowed as he read the message. This had “set up” written all over it. Belle had been hinting about him meeting her friend Emma for weeks now, and this perfectly timed message seemed suspicious. She must have known she was too ill to attend long before now if she’d lined up a replacement, but she’d sent the message at exactly the right point to ensure that he would already be at the florists when it would be bad form to leave.

He looked around the room curiously. In all of Belle’s chattering about Emma, she’d failed to mention what the girl looked like. There were a few promising candidates - including a blonde who was scowling at her phone - he thought he could see her mouthing “son of a bitch” at it.

He kind of hoped that was her. He liked a girl who didn’t take any crap.

The thought had no sooner crossed his mind when his phone buzzed in his hand. Belle had sent him a picture of a blonde goddess. The same blonde goddess he’d just spied swearing at her phone. This is Emma. Be nice x  was the caption.

Well hello, Miss Swan.

He was still irked by the subterfuge, but perhaps an evening with this girl wouldn’t be terrible. He made his way over to her and coughed to get her attention.

“Emma Swan, I presume?”

“Killian Jones?” she asked, one eyebrow arched. Killian could see his own face smiling out from Emma’s phone along with the caption: This is Killian. Be nice x “Are you buying this?” Emma asked, holding her phone up for him to see. Sure enough he could see almost the exact same apologetic message that he had received on her phone.

He smirked. “You know, I’m a little disappointed in Belle, she’s such a smart woman, tricking us into a date seems beneath her.”

“Yeah, it’s like she thought we wouldn’t actually talk to each other?”

“Well, you are a very beautiful woman, perhaps she thought I’d be unable to form sentences around you? Or that we’d take one look at each other and fall straight into bed?”

Emma rolled her eyes - although whether it was at his words, Belle’s behaviour, or both, he couldn’t be entirely sure. “Right. Well, you’re clearly still chatty and sorry, but I don’t ... pillage and plunder on a first horribly awkward set up, so she’s wrong on both counts.”

Killian laughed, he knew that he’d been right to hope his date for the night was her. “That’s because you’ve never been on a horribly awkward set up with me before.”

“You say that like this isn’t your first?”

“Belle is my best friend. Although honestly, she’s usually more subtle than this. Perhaps she was worried that I might die a bitter old maid.”

“Sounds like my best friend Mary Margaret. If I have to hear one more hope speech about the power of true love I’m going to hunt down Cupid and use his bow and arrow to kill her.” Killian snorted with laughter. “So, are you any good at this?”

“Blind dates? You’ll have to tell me,” he answered with a laugh.

“Christmas art activities,” Emma clarified, “because I suck at anything artistic and you have to give me a lot of alcohol before I could be considered evenly vaguely ‘festive’”

“Are you asking me to get you drunk? Because if so…” He pulled his flask from his pocket and swung it between his fingers invitingly. “I may be able to help.”

Emma’s eyes lit up. “You know, I think they’re serving eggnog, perhaps we can give it a little extra Christmas spirit?”

He ran his tongue along his teeth and looked her straight in the eye. “You’re a woman after my own heart, Swan.”

It was several hours and many cups of industrial-strength eggnog later and Killian was helping Emma to carry her wreath to her door.

Despite their lack of creative talent and scoffing at the Christmas cheeriness of the occasion (“Seriously, was this a last-ditch attempt to save our love lives or to convert us to the joys of the festive season?” Emma had asked with a laugh at one point.) they’d had a great time.

Admittedly, when they first spied the buckets of festive greenery and Christmas ornaments they had both turned a little pale. But then Emma had whispered, “tackiest wreath competition? Loser buys the drinks.” and Killian’s joy had turned to despair.

“I love a challenge - when are you planning to buy these drinks?”

“Play your cards right and you can buy me drinks on our next horribly awkward set up.”

He had grinned and set to work creating a monstrosity of neon clashing colours, fake snow and glitter. He used the weirdest ornaments he could find and delighted in the shrieks of laughter they drew from Emma. It was even more fun when the poor woman organising the workshop attempted to appear genuinely impressed by their festive creations, offering up a weak “they’re very ... unique,” as she couldn’t hide the slight look of horror in her eyes.

They’d decided to call their competition a draw - and Killian was hoping that meant another two dates with Emma Swan, one where she paid, one where he did. For now though, he would just be happy to have a second.

She unlocked the door and stepped inside, pointing out the table where he could place her wreath. He set it down and grinned at her. “Tonight was…”

“A lot of fun,” Emma finished. “When can we do it again?”

“I’ll have to check with the delightful Belle that she hasn’t scheduled me in for any other blind dates. I can only assume that she needs to know I’ll have someone to kiss on New Year’s so that she doesn’t forget that she’s dating Ruby and pounce on me.”

Emma laughed. “Knowing Ruby, she’d be quite happy to watch.”Killian’s eyebrows flew up at the thought, and he awkwardly laughed it off.

There was a moment’s silence between them. Emma brought a hand to his cheek and rubbed at it. “Glitter,” she explained, biting her lip and glancing up above his head. He followed her line of sight and spied “mistletoe?”

“Mary Margaret,” she replied. “I would never force people to kiss because of a festive weed.”

“Still. It’d be a shame to disappoint the mistletoe, don’t you think?” He asked, licking his lips.

“Oh, absolutely,” Emma replied, swaying closer to him. “We can’t make it feel unwanted.” And she kissed him.

It was soft and sweet and everything he had hoped kissing her would be. A part of him was screaming at him to tug her closer and just consume her. But they’d both had a lot to drink and he was a gentleman, he wanted to do this right. Still, it was so hard to let her go...

“Emma, is that you?” a voice called from behind them and they sprang apart. Probably just as well, he thought with a sigh.

“Hey Mary Margaret, this is Killian.” He looked up in time to see Emma’s roommate blush bright red at the sight of him.

“Oh, I’m sorry, was I interrupting something?” she asked, eyes wide. They both shook their heads.

“No, it’s fine. Killian just helped me bring my wreath inside.” Emma gestured to the wreath and Mary Margaret’s eyes widened in horror. “What do you think Ms? I made it especially for us to hang on our door, I know how much you love Christmas!”

Mary Margaret’s face was frozen, apparently unable to express how much she hated the thought of hanging it on the door. Killian bit his lip so as not to smile.

“Well, it’s certainly … it’s very … um. Wow, Emma, do you think this is too special to hang up outside? We wouldn’t want it to get damaged out there.”

Killian chose that moment to take pity on Mary Margaret. He had no doubt Emma was going to start up the teasing again the moment he left, but still, he could give her chance to regroup.

“Swan? I should go, but I’ll call you,” he said and leaned down to give her a brief kiss.

“You better,” she replied with a grin.

“Nice to meet you Mary Margaret,” Killian called out with a wave and left.

When he came to pick Emma up for their second date, her hideous wreath was hanging on the door and he couldn’t help but tease her for it. Still, she got her own back when they went back to his that night and she saw that he too had hung up his wreath on his door. Perhaps they both were finally getting into the true spirit of Christmas.

[chimhyung]

Fic Rec #4!☆

Jikook;

Constraint by Harlot { ohmygod this fic!!! I’m a fucking emotional wreck }

On Patrol by Ragi { this is the cutest thing in the world!! }

two sides; same story by namjoone

under the mistletoe (with you) by decompositionbooks

Oblivious by NaHe

Feeling Chubby by jikookielove

sweet like cinnamon by cloudyjimin

this must be a blooper (but it feels a bit too perfect) by kamuu

Vmin;

morning, noon, and night by kaythebest { This is everything I ever wanted!! I’m screaming and crying at the same time!! }

beneath the blue sky, this skyline (say lalalalala) by sheepishfiction { I love this too much ❤ ❤ ❤ }

oh, gimme a time machine by namakemono

baby i’m the one (and you’re the only one) by causeitsred

that tv doesn’t need any more screws (but i do) by sheepishfiction

Definitions by cest_what

we don’t believe what’s on tv by chahans

you were everything i dreamed by 7lightning

Yoonmin; 

just like a tattoo (i’ll always have you) by yururin

The Bitter Taste of Life (and Coffee) by bangtanpiggies