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candywife333 · 11 months

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Wife Is Life

PART 3 of Fish-wife or No wife

Summary: Did Jungkook have a wife? The rumor mill had been churning for years, divided on this one topic. He was a successful worldwide pop star who was always seen with a different lady on his arm, as he flitted from country to country enjoying his prolific career. The reason for the lingering suspicion was a cryptic social media post showing a picture of 2 kids who shared the same exact eyes and smile as him. So in fact, if he truly did have a wife, who was she? And why had the public never seen her? Perhaps she didn't wish to be seen.

Description : famous pop-star/idol jungkook x chubby y/n , might be two-shot or trilogy

Disclaimer: The character of Jungkook shown in this fanfic does not accurately represent Jungkook's true personality or actions. Please treat this story as fiction.

Sorry for the little to no proofreading, have a lot more works lined up to post

Will have more drabbles of this couple lined up though this is the last official part.

It was 7 PM when I was startled awake by loud snoring. Damn, the man snored like a hibernating bear. I can't believe I let him touch my body. I should not have done that. Mentally reprimanding myself for poor decision making (though I truly did have little decision in the matter), I pried myself from his hold and went to take a quick shower. After a refreshing shower consisting of washing out all the cum he had pumped into me, I walked to the kitchen to see Mrs. Jeon reading a book on the couch.

"Hello auntie, how is your book so far?", I timidly asked. She smiled real wide as she saw me, pulling my hand to sit next to her, "Going well dear. Have been wanting to read it for ages but never got around to it till now". I nodded with a small smile on my face. "Auntie, I will be going out to briefly check up on the house in this neighborhood. It is just a quick 5 minute walk. Can you just take care of the kids in case they get up in between"?

Mrs. Jeon quirked her eyebrow slightly up, quietly whispering," Do you not trust them with Jungkook?" I smiled at her in a perfunctory manner, feeling a little soulless, "I honestly am not sure. He seems to only be interested in them for the time being. I don't think I can count on him to be a true father since he has not shown up for either of them consistently. I will be getting everything ready to shift into the linden house tomorrow morning". I sighed, feeling weary all of a sudden staring into Mrs. Jeon's eyes with resignation and acceptance, "I knew this marriage was a farce from the very beginning, so I never expected anything from him. I just hoped that he would visit the kids regularly. That was honestly it. You see Mrs. Jeon, ours is not a typical marriage. We just fulfilled each of our needs at the time. He found me, to take care of Iro. And I took his help to gain financial stability and have children that I could call my own".

She pensively stared back at me, with a sadness reflected in her eyes, face frowning slightly. I smiled in a reassuring manner and pivoted to grab my phone and wallet, walking out of the house to briefly check up on how ready it was. After seeing the house in perfect condition since my brief visit last month, I did some cursory cleaning so the kids and I wouldn't suffer allergies. It was a two story house with 5 massive bedrooms, a gym room, cute well equipped kitchen, and beautiful views of trees through all the windows. Imagine a house that looked like a winter wonderland, waiting for Christmas to blanket it; enveloped by berry, maple, and fir trees.

Walking back into the Jeon's house, Mr. Jeon opened the door for me with a soft smile. And to my distinct surprise, I saw Jungkook feeding or shall I say, attempting to feed Mari and Iro some pumpkin pudding that Mrs. Jeon had made. I walked in silently, and patted him on the shoulder , "Thanks for helping feed them. Both of them sleep early, so it is truly perfect that you are feeding them right now". He stared at me as if he were deciphering the contents of my soul, even as Mari jabbed her tiny finger (honestly resembling a claw at this point) into his sturdy chest. "Of course Y/N, it really is no big deal". I ate a light dinner , a bowl of lamb and potato stew with udon noodles.

Grabbing the kids from my Jungkook, I walked back to the bedroom. The kids easily fell asleep as they usually tend to once they are fed. Brushing and getting ready for bed in some shorts and a tank top, I slipped beneath the covers ready to doze off. Before I knew it , I had drifted off to sleep.

I woke up to Jungkook's heavily muscled arm wrapped around my waist, and his legs trapped between mine. His head was laid up on my left breast and I could feel his breathing on my nipple. Arousal was starting to pool in my underwear and my left nipple stiffened with the warm air of his breath flooding it. To make matters worse, his groin was rubbing against my wet core. I gasped as the small pleasure started to build in my core.

I had to get out of his grasp no matter what. I carefully detached myself from him. He had the notion that he could seamlessly slip into my life when our arrangement never included physical love. Even if he became a proper dad to the kids, I was not letting him fuck with me. The man showed how irresponsible and inconsistent he was. Actions speak louder than words. I quickly wrapped my hair into a bun, brushed, splashed my face with water, and changed into a blue cotton sundress.

I hadn't unpacked much at all, so I shoved whatever was out back into the two suitcases I had brought. Grabbing Mari as she slept, I gently woke up Iro and cleaned his face. Thank god Iro was a quiet child. We slipped out the bedroom with the suitcases and saw Mr. and Mrs. Jeon making breakfast.

I grinned, "Good morning auntie and uncle, just going to shift over to the linden house. I will feed the kids breakfast and we will go over there. You guys should come over for lunch, I will have a whole gourmet selection ready for you ". They laughed at my demand. After getting Iro to eat something and shoveling down some oatmeal myself, I packed some food for Mari and drove over to the linden house with the luggage.

Mari got up in between and I bathed both the kids as soon as we walked in. I let out a huge breath in relief, finally I would have my own breathing space. Mr. and Mrs. Jeon were lovely, but I did not want to constantly be around Jungkook. He had taken yesterday's advances, as a way to weasel into my bed. I started working on making shrimp stew, rice, fried omelettes, tonkatsu and some curry.

I was used to cooking since I was 16. It was a therapeutic activity for me. Finishing in a record time of 2.5 hrs, I took a quick shower myself and called Mrs. Jeon over. I didn't know that a hectic hodgepodge of erratic events were happening in the Jeon house in between.

Mrs. Jeon wacked Jungkook with a broom handle, "Get UP YOU LAZY BOY!!!!! GET UP!!! GET UP!!! Go get yourself cleaned up and read for lunch. You have a wife and kids to get back". She sneered , menacingly at him as slowly got up in a confused state, doe eyes wide open, puzzled by what his mother meant. "What do you mean mom? Aren't Y/N and the kids at home. Where would they have gone?"

Mrs. Jeon shook her head in disappointment, a frown on her face, lips pinched in irritation, "Your Y/N is a very independent, reliable girl. She bought the linden house before coming here and she moved into it with the kids this morning itself. She invited your father and I over for lunch. Clearly she wants to keep family bonds, but you are a miserable father and husband. If you didn't want to be a good husband, you could've at least been a good father. But no, you chose to fail on both counts". Ceaselessly shaking her head, she walked away before yelling, "YOU BETTER GET YOUR RANK ASS SHOWERED AND READY FOR LUNCH. SHE DIDN'T INVITE YOU FYI, BUT YOU ARE GOING ANYWAY, WE ARE NOT MAKING LUNCH AT HOME"!

With those biting remarks, Mrs. Jeon left Jungkook alone with his dismal thoughts. His wife had clearly not accepted him back, even as a father to the kids. He scoffed , of course she wouldn't. He had been such a horrible dad, not seeing his kids as they were growing up. Even when he was told that Mari was born by her sister Wei, he wasn't bothered at the time. He almost wanted to sit there crying the rest of the day, remembering her cute toothless little chubby face.

He showered rapidly, running to the door as his parents planned on walking over with a basket of red bean filled pastries. Y/N opened the door in a light pastel yellow dress littered with a pattern of violets, and simple diamond studs. She was classic, a beauty , and she was the moment. Her curled hair cascaded down her backless sundress. Jungkook swore his mother slightly gasped when she first saw Y/N. As soon as Y/N saw Jungkook, her beaming smile faded into an indifferent nod. He hated that he had made her that way.

She pushed his parents toward the massive oak table with a beautiful view of the garden. The entire house was filled with paintings of forests and gardens, with a small collection of creepers winding around the staircase leading up stairs. The views were also ridiculously impressive, with trees looking close to a hundred years old shading the entire house, yet still allowing sunlight in. Jungkook could tell this property was super expensive, more so than the one he had bought just from the interiors and the 3 acre garden encompassing the entire circumference of the house.

Y/N had made bank, and she might not need him anymore. He started perspiring , beads of sweat lining his forehead as he frantically thought of how easy it would be for her to delete him from her life. She was emotionally stable, mentally strong, had his parents on her side, and financially rock solid. She could easily marry a more reliable, doting husband and leave him out of the picture.

Not able to control his panic, Jungkook was barely able to eat a spoon of the stew before he excused himself with a trembling voice, "I need to use the bathroom, one minute". He booked it to the bathroom, not even able to take his eyes from the ostentatiously furnished restroom complete with a settee and potpourri. Since when were bathrooms so big that they contained sofas and potpourri?!!

Y/N was confused at his abrupt exit from the dining table. It had been five minutes since Jungkook had stumbled away in a hurry. Y/N decided she would check on him in case he needed anything. "Give me one minute auntie and uncle, let me just check on Jungkook". They nodded , consumed in eating their food and feeding the kids. Y/N walked over to the bathroom and rapped on the door, "You ok there Jungkook? Need any help finding toiletries"?

Before she could take in another breath, the door opened with a frantic Jungkook who was shirtless, pants loose. An extremely defined arm grabbed her around her waist and whisked her inside the bathroom before she could even yell. Hitting on his tan glistening chest, Y/N sharply demanded "What the hell are you doing? Let me go. What is your damn problem? Did nobody teach you manners growing up?"

Jungkook grimaced, seating Y/N on his lap, her dress shoved up all the way to her waist, chest heaving, hair in disarray, " No Y/N nobody did. That is why I cannot resist you and am driven to utter distraction by you. Ever since I saw you at the door with Mari in your arms, I have been spellbound by you. You are an enchanting, gorgeous woman and I should've seen that earlier. I used to hate on you and shame you for your body to my Hyungs. But the minute I felt you in my arms, and saw you with my babies, I wanted to kill myself for my senseless and false words".

Even as I continued beating on his chest to release me, angered by him body shaming me in the past, he fixed me to his lap, restraining my arms making me grind on his lap, his hips guiding me into a blinding rhythm. I bit out with sheer venom, "Then why don't you divorce me and marry a model instead? I don't need your money anymore, and we can share custody of the kids. If seeing my body disgusts you, there is no point continuing this". Hearing those words broke Jungkook, how could he leave this beautiful caring woman alone for some vapid shallow model? Was she so stupid that she couldn't understand how much she meant to him?

Clearly he had never verbalized enough how much she drove him nuts. When Jungkook was in a depression after breaking up with the Spanish model and having Iro at his doorstep, Y/N had swooped in to the save day. Seeing her treat Iro as if he were her own son for two years had made him love Y/n so much. He had just never wanted to get close to her and get hurt. He knew in his soul that if anyone would break him, it would be Y/N. When he married Y/N, he never even touched a woman after that. He would have escorts who he would take to galas and work parties, the tabloids going nuts at his hired companions.

Finally having Y/N in his arms, he couldn't hold back anymore. Tears streaming down his face, he undid Y/N's dress zipper throwing it over her head. Y/N couldn't even fight back against his skilled quick movements. Making too much noise would alert his parents and her kids. He desperately shoved his face wet with tears between her breasts. His calloused hands squeezed the perfect globes of her butt, getting her to slowly grind on his cock.

Y/N couldn't hold back as the sensations overtook her. She moaned quietly as she could feel Jungkook kneading at her waist as his tongue traced her collarbones, littering tiny bits all over them. Y/N attempted refusing, putting hands on his shoulders to push him away, "No Jungkook we can't do this. I don't know how many women you have been with". Jungkook warbled back , "No Y/N, you are the only one since I have married you. I tried avoiding you, but seeing the kids and you have made that impossible. I was a horrible father and husband but I will make it up to you and the kids no matter what".

Not able to control himself, Jungkook came in his pants with Y/N heavily panting on top of his lap ,completely naked. He stared at his wife, amazed at her beauty. He would never leave her or the kids again. Y/N retorted back with a quirk of her lips, eyes shining with promise and mischief, "So is that it? That was all you had for me after so many years"?

Jungkook growled back , black eyes shining into hers, mouth smirking, grabbing her hair in his hand to bring her face closer to his, "Of course not my darling", kissing her in the mouth thrusting his tongue into hers, "This is just the beginning".

#bts #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #smut #bts x plus size reader #chubby reader #self love #curvy reader #angst #jk x reader #jk x y/n #jungkook x chubby reader #jungkook x plus size reader #bts x chubby reader #bts x curvy reader #needy jungkook

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mondaymelon · 9 months

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MOOTIES !!

comment here for a special gift for you on christmas day <33

or lmao in the case of shadowban. stares at snob. rb <3

sorry for the tag !!

@absolutelyobsessedkiya, @mrcrazyvillainvillainn, @lume-nosity, @the-white-void, @pale-value, @yuan4i, @snobwaffles, @papiliotao, @stcrfeesh, @ilyuu, @vennnnn-diagram, @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @kaelily, @astrinityy, @micheya, @dustofthedailylife, @yelshin, @solxima, @falors, @circyexistforcontent, @haliyarobin, @yinyinggie, @kaeffeinee, @danijaci, @soleillunne, @anonbinaryweirdo, @lillonvia, @whats-it-mean, @mhiieee, @realkavehgf, @auroratumbles, @bluespring-love, @emphasisondrvgs

#★ ˎˊ˗ melonrambles!#!!!!#staring at allof yyou #its not something cusred i promise #just comment with ur name and a character you like pretty pleaes <33 #for no reason at all <333 #mwah mwah love you guys mwah

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lethalrexie · 6 days

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so a lil bout me if anyone wants to be moots: (i also have a backup in case i lose this acct, it’s the same username but the “e” in lethal is 3)

you 1,000% do not need to read all of this, however i truly think it is super helpful considering i was raised by a dietitian.

im pro-recovery JUST BY CHOICE NOT FORCE. so PLS JUST BLOCK DONT REPORT. we all have backups and backups for our backups. so it’s pointless. you’re breaking up a community where we get support. so fvck u if u report.

my “rexie tips n tricks” losing weight healthily yada yada yada is below the cut if you’re interested!

cw: 180lxs 81kg (i know it got out of hand 🥲)

gw: 130lxs 58kg (doing everything i can to get here by christmas)

ugw: not sure, just wanna see my b0nes. maybe 111lxs (50kg)? (gimme that angel number baybeee)

lw: 145lxs 65kg

so basically, if you do these things i can guarantee you 100% will lose weight. if you’ve plateaued, if you’re just starting out, if you’re trying to take it slow after relapsing, even if you’re petite and need a metab boost to start loosing lxs again, i’m not saying it’s good to be apart of this community but im along this ride w ya so. here u go.

1. keep your e@ting window as small as possible aka eat to live don’t live to eat (the r3xie motto 🤪). i’m f@sting minimum 16:8 and i try to extend that. but major thing is don’t beat yourself up if you can’t make it 16hrs and be happy the days you can make it longer!! esp if your just starting out.

2. stay low c@l. i’m trying my best to stay under 500 c@l/day. and consume that how it works for you. if five 100 c@l snacks over 8 hrs work best some days that’s ok. if OMAD works best, great! my mom is a dietitian and i promise, eating a little of each food group (dairy, carb ik scary, protein, veg & fruit) will help your metab which in the long run will help you l0se more weight. sometimes just having one protein bar mid day works 4 me. others i need a full meal. fuel your body or you will burn muscle which leads to organ damage.

3. don’t do LONG term fasts. i’d say up to a week with heavy liquids is okay. and not just water, incorporate broths, mio, even sugar free jello is good (if it’s clear typically it’s ok) but long term fasts can lower your metabolism, deplete electrolytes, and sodium, which long term is going to bloat you, keep weight on (or make you gain it back quickly), and overall make you feel like shit (which could lead to hospitalization)

4. don’t eat refined sugar or refined foods. do literally AS MUCH AS YOU CAN to eat sugar free and whole foods. i have a major sweet tooth so i turn to sugar free jello/pudding, sf caramels, halo top ice cream if i REALLY need it. otherwise i do sweet fruits and veggie based substitutions for carbs. i use cauliflower rice, zucchini noodles, or there’s these great hearts of palm noodles.

5. eat tons of fiber!! laxatives will help momentarily, consistent fiber will keep your 💩 regular thus keeping your body from holding onto it aka extra lxs. i add unflavored benefiber to a lot of my drinks (the flavored ones have added sugar). i honestly could promise you that fiber will help with shedding !bs.

6. drink as much water as you possibly can. yes you can become over-hydrated so add electrolytes or legit just a lil salt to your water here n there. but your body is going to retain water (!bs), and bloat if you are dehydrated. #1 thing to remember is you are depleting your body of what it wants. finding a way to basically trick it makes it easier and quicker to lose fat.

7. stay distracted! discipline and hunger may hurt now, regret and guilt are going to hurt 50x worse later. a grumbly tummy is not worth it. get some motivational phrases, tactics, distractions, that work for you and RELY ON THEM. water, i use mio in mine when i’m desperate, gum, diet soda, bubbly water, reading, tv, ANYTHING. i have other reblogs with some good motivational tactics. i also look at th!nspø as well as pics of my own body multiple times per day to keep me on track. YOU ARE NOT ALWAYS GOING TO BE MOTIVATED SO YOU MUST BE DISCIPLINED. i repeat that to myself 100000 times a day.

8. incorporate foods/drinks that speed up your metab. coffee, green tea, spicy foods (pepper, cayenne pepper), cinnamon, B12 there’s sooo many. and this goes hand in hand with making sure you’re getting your vitamins. picking up a general multivitamin will help make it so your body doesn’t want to cling onto every last cal it’s fed.

9. exercise if you are mentally & physically able to. i have some other limiting factors which make me unable to go to the gym or get as many steps in as id like. an avg day is 2k-5k steps for me rotting on the couch. i PROMISE like 100% money back guarantee (srry bad joke i swear im not a damn ana coach 🙄) your diet is 1,000,000x more important than any exercise you’re going to get in. exercise will help with toning so i try to get some laying ones done on the couch but dude you burn calories just existing. so if you eat lower than that which is 1k-2k (you can look it up it’s your TDEE) you will lose weight. it may be slightly slower than if you walked 20k steps/day or worked out 5 hrs every day but give it time.

literal str8 up proof of this^^^ is my father. he’s a gym junkie like going every morning at 4am (insanity but not my kind), but was eating a lot, and garbage. high carb and sugar intake. and even though he was working out A TON with a lot of steps/day he was gaining fat. he came to me and i told him str8 up to eat less and stop treating his body like a dumpster. eat healthier. homie is shedding lxs.

so besides all that, if you wanna be moots ill probs just vent and post th!nspø

SORRY IM A CERTIFIED YAPPER

#⭐️vation goals #4n@diary #st4rv1ng #light as a 🪶#starv3 #tw ana bløg #@n@ diary

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copperbadge · 10 months

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I want to fuel your quest for brown cheese a little. Did you know we get special Christmas varieties in Norway?

The dark one is a very dark, almost burnt caramel with a smooth finish and hints of sourness. The lighter one is sweeter and has cardamom added to it. Also smooth, but drier. Both go extremely well with toasted raisin buns, but they're also good with butter on sourdough and other toothy breads. Add apple slices if you want contrast and crunch.

[photo id: Two brown cheeses in a plastic container, dark Bestemorost to the left, wrapped in blue, Julebrunost to the right, wrapped in red. A slice has been cut from the cheese to the left, with a Norwegian cheese slicer tool.]

Ah man, I can't even get the blue wrapper cheese and you're getting seasonal variants! Also thank you very much for doing a photo ID. :D

There must be a cheese shop in Chicago that either stocks or would order gjetost or brunost or bestermorost (best name) or Julebrunost -- which, that's "Yule Brunost" yes? Like my figgy pudding Spam that I turned into a christmas ornament last year. I just need to find them. I was in Whole Foods on Saturday and looked in the cheese case but they only had the Ski Queen red package. :/

Okay. I made it a mission in Europe, I can make it a mission here. I'm adding it officially to the To Do list.

#food #cheese #brunost

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damagedintellect · 1 year

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Trafalgar Law x reader

💌 Fake it till you make it: Chapter 13 💌

Summary: To avoid an arranged marriage set up by Doflamingo, Law needs to bring home a girlfriend during the Christmas break and you just so happen to be a theatre major in the same dorm at One Piece University. What could possibly go wrong?

Tropes: College AU, Fake Dating, Idiots in love

Chapter Navigation: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12][You are here]

💌 Word count: 3,792 💌 <= Previous Chapter | Next Chapter =>

Sabo had been pacing back and forth going over the information he got from Ivankov like a crazy person. He's barely gotten any sleep over the past few days and Koala was starting to worry but continued to fill his mug with straight black coffee. He was unraveling Joker at the seams but he couldn’t use any of the information he had to arrest Doflamingo, yet. It was all technically still a hunch because he had no solid evidence. An extremely lucky guess on the true identity of “Joker” that would hold no weight in the court of law. He needed something, anything to tie up the loose ends to form a proper case. Law’s first disappearance, the engagement, Corazon’s shooting, (Y/N)’s threat, everything was suspicious and he had a feeling it wasn’t all a coincidence. He needed to catch him in the act and he knew just how to do it.

Before everyone was preparing to leave for the wedding, he talked to Dragon about what he’s compiled. He had a bad feeling that something was going to happen at the wedding, to his friends and to his brother. Surprisingly Dragon didn’t try to stop him from going on this little stakeout. Although in turn he had to go alone. He had gotten there before anyone else to find the perfect spot to be inconspicuous and watched as both guests and family members arrived.

That’s why he was sitting outside of the Charlotte family villa at this ungodly hour. He had been drifting in and out of sleep when he heard the faint sound of a car starting. That immediately caught his attention as he scrambled to wake up enough to investigate the sudden noise. He couldn’t see through the tinted windows and he didn’t want to give himself away by getting too close to the action. His best bet was to simply, not lose sight of the car without raising suspicion. When Doflamingo rolled up the day prior Sabo had the foresight to jot down his license plate and send them to Koala. They were fake. If he lost sight of this car now there would be little to no way to trance it back to Doflamingo. Sabo grit his teeth when they finally got to their destination. It was the chapel where the wedding was taking place.

He needed to get closer, he couldn't see shit from where he was. As soon as the vehicle was out of the line of sight Sabo made his move. By the time he had a good vantage point someone was already unloading the car. They were moving a rather large rug around the back of the chapel. The first thing glaringly obvious was that the man wasn’t Doflamingo. Their face was obscured with a hat and glasses but judging by the build and the overall look of the glasses Sabo would guess it was Vergo. Of all the Donquixote’s, Vergo was seemingly the only one to stay out of the public eye. There were only maybe a handful of events the man attended, so it begs the question, why was he moving a rug at this hour. Sabo didn’t have enough time to make it back to his car as the other vehicle headed back in the direction of the villa. He supposed this would be fine for now if anything he knew Sanji had an extra invite. He was going to get to the bottom of this.

—

Pudding had a hard time getting to sleep after her beach walk with Sanji. It was a big day after all but the tossing and turning wasn't doing her any good. If anything it was just knotting up her hair. She had slept for a few hours and she did plan on getting up early. She wondered if anyone was awake right now. If she had to guess, judging by the time on the clock she knew of one other person that would be getting up right about now. She put on some slippers and a robe and walked to (Y/N)’s room. She knocked lightly but when she heard no movement from the other side she decided to peek in. (Y/N) was nowhere to be seen. Her bed looked like she had been here a moment ago but left for some reason. Each of the guest rooms had a bathroom attached so she couldn’t have gone wandering around for that. There was a half full bottle of water on the night stand as well so that's not it either. The only other place Pudding could think of was to check Law’s room but (Y/N) wouldn’t be that stupid would she? Not when Doflamingo was in close proximity. That would also be too tacky and make Pudding gag if that was the case but it was worth a shot. Although the room Law was staying in was on the other side of the manor for a reason. It was bad luck for the bride and groom to see each other before the wedding. She frowned.

In the end Pudding decided it wasn’t worth it and tried to go back to bed but as the rest of the estate woke up with high spirits there was still no sign of her maid of honor. It was weird considering no one else batted an eye at the disappearance. When she questioned Monet and Baby 5 about it neither of them had a clue where (Y/N) could have gone or why she would have left. Monet only offered that maybe she couldn’t stand seeing her ex get married. She then left to handle the tasks that (Y/N) should have been taking care of, if she was still here. Contacting the florists, the stylists, caterers, and making sure everything was running smoothly. From the looks of it, Law’s sisters were managing it all just fine. Almost as if it was rehearsed. Pudding swallowed harshly, thinking about the possibility that this was a part of Doflamingo’s plan all along. Of course this would be the outcome now that she started viewing (Y/N) as a friend. Had this been a few weeks ago she would have scoffed and brushed it off but now that she cared, her level of concern was worrying. She had to let someone know.

—

When Law read the group message he nearly threw his phone across the room. (Y/N) had been missing in action. All of her stuff was left untouched in her guest room, which suggests she didn’t leave on her own account. She had to have been taken. Law raked his hands through his hair. This was all his fault. He was a fool for believing that Doflamingo would just let things run their course and now she was nowhere to be found. Law knows the kind of power the blonde has and it terrifies him. The incoming messages were scrolling too fast for his eyes to follow and his mind was going a mile a minute. He couldn’t even hear Shachi or Penguin trying to talk him down as they tried to reassure him that the strawhats had a plan. His spiraling accelerated as he thought about Corazon’s condition, so much so that he didn’t even hear Bepo’s apology before he felt the other’s hand connect with his cheek. Being backhanded finally snapped him out of his stupor as Bepo shook him violently, well violently for Bepo.

“It’s not over yet! If you give up now then Doffy wins!”

Law sat dumbfounded as Bepo’s words sunk into his thick skull. He needed to get it together otherwise Doflamingo would get away with it. He still had a role to play in all of this and if anything he believed in Luffy. Not to mention, criminal investigation was Sabo’s field of interest. He needed to maintain an air that none of this was affecting him. Law couldn’t give Doflamingo the satisfaction no matter how much it hurt. He took a deep breath to steel his nerves. Law was determined to end this if not for his sake then for everyone else’s. If he were to fall here, he would at least take the old man with him. His eyes filled with a fiery determination as his groomsmen regained their confident smiles and handed him his discarded phone. They were nakama and they could do this together. He wasn’t alone anymore.

—

The moment Sanji was messaged he added Pudding to the group chat and when Luffy read the message, he called Sabo immediately. Naturally Sabo didn't tell anyone he was going undercover so when he picked up the call to a screaming Luffy, he tailed it as fast as he could to the Vinsmoke estate. It shocked everyone that Sabo was even in the area but they knew that the blonde had a knack for knowing when he was needed.

"Let me get this straight, (Y/N) is missing?" Sabo repeated in disbelief thinking back to what he witnessed earlier that morning. "When did Pudding notice her disappearance? Did anyone get in contact with her after the rehearsal dinner?" He was trying to pinpoint a time frame to work with.

"The last time any of us had contact was at the rehearsal dinner. Pudding found her room empty at around five-ish."

That means no one's seen her all night. Sabo had watched everyone arrive back at the villa but he doesn't recall anyone leaving other than that car. Which could only mean that it wasn’t a rug that "Vergo" was smuggling. At least that was his guess; the only way to confirm his suspicion was to scout out the chapel to find the rug in question but that still wouldn’t solve anything, unless.

"With luck she's probably being kept at the chapel. I saw a car transporting a rug there at around three-forty. That is unless she's still at the manor." Sabo sighed. The first 48 hours of a missing person case were the most crucial in finding the person. This complicates things with how they were going to dissolve the wedding at the same time. They’d have to split up into teams and hopefully not get caught.

Sanji shook his head "Pudding said she had her older brother search the place. She said Katakuri wouldn't lie to her." At least they had a lead but still. The event would be crawling with people, sanctioned reporters and who knows what the security will be like. Sabo didn’t like this one bit, it was like he and Doflamingo were playing chess. They were already in check with Law being pinned down and (Y/N) being taken was like losing their queen but they weren’t down for the count yet. After all, any pawn can become a queen.

“So here’s the plan.”

—

Pudding and the girls were already getting their hair and make up done by the stylist when she stopped looking at her phone. She didn’t stay in the groupchat long enough to hear the full plan but she got the gist and she knew how to play her part. She’d just have to act natural and hope that things went smoothly on everyone else’s end. Pudding watched Monet and Baby 5 closely. She didn’t feel the need to observe Sugar as harshly since she seemed to constantly be in her own little world. That and she had the least amount of contact with Doflamingo all morning. Speaking of the toymaker, he was currently outside the room having a conversation with Big Mom. Pudding was getting her makeup done first, that way by the time the photographer arrived they could get some lovely "Final Moment" shots of her getting her hair done. Pudding thought it was all pointless but this wasn’t about her and after overhearing the conversation just outside the door, it never was. She was just a convenient pawn for her mother to utilize after Lola ran away. She sees that now. Pudding peered at the clock, there was only so much time left, she might as well enjoy the peace while it lasted.

It wasn’t long until the guests were allowed to arrive at the venue. Pudding had arranged for Katakuri to be the one to greet the Vinesmoke’s. While Sanji’s brothers, Nami, and Robin handled the pleasantries, Reiju and Zoro would be lookouts, Katakuri would help Sabo with the investigation and Luffy and Sanji were to act as decoys for their venture. Making sure that all eyes would be on Luffy wasn’t that hard. He often found himself at the center of most commotions. Luffy wanted to take Doflamingo head on but he seemed to be making his rounds in front of the media and Sanji wouldn’t allow it. The last thing they needed was for all of them to get kicked out before anyone could accomplish their mission. They had roughly 30 minutes before the ceremony began, for now they would buy Sabo time. Although Sanji agreed that it would be foolish to take him on, he wanted to beat the shit out of Doflamingo too. All of this family business nonsense had been something he had dealt with personally as a kid and he was sick of it. He might not be close friends with Law but he could emphasize with the surgeon.

“Curly brow, you got company” Zoro’s dumb nickname for the cook could be heard through the earpiece he was wearing. Everyone but Luffy had one. He wouldn't listen to it anyhow so why bother giving it to him. Sanji glanced around his peripherals to locate their target. Once he found Doffy he grabbed Luffy by the arm, suspiciously made a show of whispering into Luffy’s ear, and made their way down a corridor hoping that Doflamingo would take the bait.

“Doflamingo’s all yours. Make sure Luffy doesn’t do anything too stupid. The rest of us will move on to phase two.” This time it was Reiju’s voice checking in. The rest of the group would be mingling with Doflamingo’s executives, keeping them pinned for as long as possible. Having Doflamingo isolated was ideal but there were still no eyes on Vergo. Which wasn’t that surprising given his track record but with luck if they found Vergo they would also find (Y/N). Hopefully.

___

Sabo was getting impatient with how long it took to move about the chapel. In his opinion Katakuri was being too thorough, taking the time to make sure the coast was clear before waving Sabo over. It's not like they had seen anyone in the past few minutes. He understands that it’s better to air on the side of caution but they needed to check every room that currently wasn’t being used for the ceremony. They weren’t having much luck and they were running out of time. That's when they came across a room that had a sign on it. It just read “Not an Exit” which was strange and felt out of place. Sabo jiggled the handle. It was locked. He pressed his ear against the door but all that accomplished was making his ear cold. There weren’t many rooms left for them to check but they'd have to make their way upstairs next. Looking down the other side of the hallway was a window that casted light down the way they just came. If this sign had been on this door for a while the ink should have faded on the paper yet it looks freshly printed like it was just hung recently. Sure they could have hung it for the event but how many people were they expecting to be wandering around this far into the chapel. Sometimes the most difficult things to find are hidden in plain sight.

Sabo hummed, turning to Katakuri “Does anyone have keys to these doors?”

“I could get a staff member to open the door but we don’t have much time left.”

Sabo bit his thumb. It would be too difficult to carry the body/rug combo up the stairs in the amount of time he lost sight of Vergo for. This was the only suspicious door they didn’t get to check and it was relatively close to the back entrance. This had to be it or else they were in trouble. If he was wrong here, then all their efforts would grind to a halt. It was a tough call and they would be down to the wire regardless of their decision. If they were going to do something they had to act now Katakuri was also the one walking Pudding down the aisle. It was now or never and waiting for the faculty key made Sabo tap his foot out of distress but in the back of his mind he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was on the right track.

Once they got the door open everything happened in a flash of still images. In the simple broom closet (Y/N) was on the floor bound by duct tape. Their back was facing Vergo who was slumped in a chair facing the door. The scene burned itself inside of Sabo’s head as he made swift work with (Y/N)’s restraints leaving Katakuri to immobilize Vergo. His reactions were lagged ever so slightly suggesting the man was half asleep, giving them a fortunate attack of opportunity that kept the struggle to a minimum. Although Sabo would still have his work cut out for him when drafting up the police reports. His top priority at the moment was making sure (Y/N)’s abscond would go unnoticed by Doflamingo. Taking her into protective custody now would prove to be difficult without help, incidentally Pudding of all people already had a contingency plan in mind.

—

Law paced back and forth as the time counted down. He would be the one left completely in the dark. Bepo and the others had tried to calm him down but it didn’t do much to calm his nerves. Luckily Doflamingo hasn’t come to check on him yet. Actually now that he thought about it, no one has tried to check on him at all. The surgeon is aware that he’s always been the family's volatile misfit but he figured that someone would be sent to keep an eye on him to make sure he didn’t attempt any last minute shenanigans. That could only mean that everything was going according to plan, right? That he had nothing to worry about, right? As one of the staff members ushered him out of the room, the ceremony began. For the first time in months he genuinely believed that things would be different this time. Leaving the walk down the aisle was the last thing on his mind.

The music faded up softly as Pudding stood beside her brother and as she joined him at the altar her expression was difficult to interpret but Law was notoriously deficient in the art of reading people.

“Dearly beloved and honored guests,” the officiate addressed the room “We are gathered together here to join Trafalgar D. Water Law and Charlotte Pudding in the union of marriage. This contract is not to be entered into lightly, but thoughtfully and seriously, and with a deep realization of its obligations and responsibilities.”

He paused briefly and Law had expected him to say the famous “Speak now or forever hold your peace.” quote that is featured in nearly every movie involving a wedding but the man said no such thing.

Gesturing to Law he continued “Do you, Law, take Pudding, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part."

He could feel the sweat drop down the side of his face. Taking a glance at the guests made him swallow hard. He couldn’t locate any of the strawhats and (Y/N) was still missing in action but so was Doflamingo. It was the end of the line and there was no getting out of this. Law had no faith and no hope left to spare as the words fell softly from his lips.

“I do…”

He lost. Everyone gave it their all and even Luffy couldn’t perform a miracle to save him from this fate. He took a shaky breath looking at Pudding. Law was so frantically absorbed in his own self preservation that he hadn’t even acknowledged Pudding's almost uncharacteristic expression. He was surprised to see something almost human in her eyes as she looked in awe at him. It puzzled him greatly as the ceremony continued. Did he miss something?

"And do you, Pudding, take Law, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part."

Pudding debated what to say. When she walked into the building she already knew what her answer was going to be but she stood there in disbelief at Law's actions. God she wanted what they had so bad and maybe one day she could. She leaned in to whisper to Law "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I finally understand what (Y/N) sees in you and you better treat her right or I'll kick your ass" this just made Law more confused but before he could ask what she was on about Pudding slipped a small paper in his hand and stepped forward to face the audience.

"I apologize for my actions today and I understand how this will reflect on my family but I can not continue this union." Pudding bows as she continues "I take full responsibility for the repercussions since I am the one at fault. I can not marry today because I am in love with someone else and it would be unfair to Law and a mockery of this establishment to wed someone in this way."

Law watched the room fall into chaos as Pudding stormed back down the aisle with a fierce unshakable confidence ignoring reporters and family members. While everyone was preoccupied with Pudding Law read the note. His sisters took up the task of pushing back the crowd that was trying to come up to the altar to question Law. Bepo, Shachi and Penguin surrounded him, noticing the paper in his hands.

"Well? What are you waiting for captain?"

"Go find her already!"

"We've got this covered."

They waved him off while they distracted some reporters who were trying to get Law’s input as he slipped through the back doors. He couldn't help the grin that plastered itself across his face as he bolted down the corridor.

___

Chapter Navigation: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12][You are here]

#one piece x reader #onepiece x reader #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar law x y/n #my op brainrot is showing #I apologize for the brutal chapter 12 cliffhanger but here you go for all the hungry Law simps!!!

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bitterkarella · 2 years

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Midnight Pals: Terfsmas Feast

JK Rowling: hello children Rowling: I just sssstopped in to wish you all a merry terfmassss King: Poe: Barker: Koontz: Rowling: alssso a happy terfannukah Rowling: a kwazy terfzaa Rowling: tip top tert Rowling: and a ssssolemn and dignified terfadann

King: oh I’ve never heard of terfmas, is that a new holiday? Rowling: yesss it’s a tradition I just made it up King: oh wait what King: you can do that? Barker: no Poe: well in a sense all traditions are made up so Barker: oh my god edgar stop being a nerd

Rowling: everyone knowssss terfsssmasss Rowling: it’s that joyoussss day when jolly old sssaint nick Rowling: visssitsss all good little boysss and girlssss Rowling: (and there’sss only thossse two things by the way) Rowling: and examinesss their genitalsss to make ssssure they’re sssleeping in the right big communal bed with their namessss on the headboard

Rowling: we gather around the yule log Rowling: and sssing traditional terfssssmasss ssssongsss Rowling: like ‘Rudolph the gender conforming reindeer’ Rowling: and ‘all I want for terfsssmasss is the defeat of the Scottish Gender Recognition Reform’

Rowling: and we make the traditional terfsssmasss plum pudding Rowling: according to legend, the pudding should be prepared with 13 ingredients to represent Alison Bailey and the 12 jurors involved in her legal victory over stonewall King: oh I thought she lost that case Poe: well she did say ‘according to legend’

Rowling: after that, we have the traditional burning of tala the alien in effigy Rowling: and the traditional burning of jessie gender in effigy Rowling: and possibly in person if we can catch her

King: this whole holiday seems kinda mean spirited Rowling: no no not at all Rowling: you jussst don’t undersssstand my culture King: what culture is that? Rowling: british Rowling: sssteve you jussst don't get it Rowling: you will be vissssited by three gender critical ssspirits tonight Rowling: the ssspirit of innate biology, the ssspirit of we can always tell, and the ssspirit of intersssex erasssure Rowling: to sssshow you the error of your wayssss Rowling: expect the firsssst ssspirit when the bell tollssss one King: oh that won’t work for me, I’ll be asleep Rowling: King: I got an early day tomorrow you know King: it being Christmas and all

Mary Shelley: sup fuckers King: JK Rowling was just explaining to us the meaning of terfsmas Shelley: haha what King: it’s a new holiday Shelley: a new holiday huh? Shelley: well it sounds like Shelley: it’s time for Shelley: [cracking knuckles] the war on terfsmas

#midnight pals #midnight society #the midnight society #jk rowling #stephen king #edgar allan poe #clive barker #mary shelley

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kikiwooo · 9 months

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🎄 | Christmas with them pt.2 | 🎄

Part 1 in case you missed.

| reblogs and comments are very much appreciated |

Lancelot.

Despite the freezing yet comforting weather, Lancelot swung his sword in the air. Cutting the cool breeze with perfect movements. Though, being good with sword wasn't Lancelot's only ability, he was also good at ice-skating. He could skate to as he was born to glide across the frozen lake with a swan's grace.

Lancelot held your hands in his, guiding you through the frozen lake, despite your shaky movements he was so chill and wanted you to be as comfortable as he is but of course..this was your first time on the ice. Lancelot couldn't help but to broke into a wide smile, his heart pounded against his chest, he was so happy..so lucky to spend this moments with you...

"I'll catch you if you fall."

Lancelot's words brought some assurance to you, it's not that you didn't trust him it's just..

Ah.

It all took a wrong step for you to lose your balance but Lancelot was quick on his feet to catch you into his arms. He gave you a smile, a wide genuine and affectionate one and squeezed you lightly.

"I caught you."

Faramis.

Faramis loved freezing cold weathers like this, it has always brought him nice feelings. Faramis was a cold person, his temperature I mean. Not freezing but touching or feeling him is like a breath of fresh air.

"Ah, the air is quite refreshing."

He'd want to continue his research with his stable mind in this nice weather but he also can't say no to you having fun in snow. Maybe a game of snowball will interest you? If it doesn't, his slightly growing smirk will. Please smash a snowball right onto his face.

Faramis is gifted in kitchen, so there's no way you will get sick and suffer from it. Even if you did get sick, it would literally only last for a day, two if it's so bad. What would you like, a warm nice soup? Hot, still burning puddings maybe? If not those, let us have some warm, stomach filling drinks while looking out to the snowing lands.

"Care to join me for a cup of hot tea?"

Hayabusa.

Winter season with Hayabusa is never cold, he always takes you to to hot springs because it's the most effective way to stay warm during the cold weather. All you need to do is get in the burning hot water and enjoy yourself, he'll get everything you both need.

Despite the water being warm enough to lean against somewhere and enjoy yourself, you find yourself leaning against to Hayabusa and staring at the scene. Hayabusa cocked a brow, watching you. He slowly wrapped his arm around you, pulling you slightly closer and pressing his lips against your forehead.

"Enjoying yourself so far?"

You could only nod and sigh pleasantly, hearing him chuckle and pressing you onto his side more.

"Let's get out before your start to complain that hands get wrinkly."

Clint.

Clint was one of those types who spends hours to clean in front of the house from the snow, waking up at five in the morning and start to clean. Not even eating or drinking anything at all he could only depend on you to wake up and bring him something to snack on whilst he worked.

Clint sighed heavily stopping for a minute to lean against the shovel. He's sure it has been at least three hours that he started to shovel the snow and he was determined to finish it all but it kept snowing. He wiped the sweat from his forehead as he breath down hard. A door unlocked behind him as he heard your voice calling out for him to come inside.

He was going to deny that before he noticed himself literally becoming a snowman, he didn't noticed that his nose was cherry red as snow landed onto his jacket. He sighed before turning around and slowly walking to you, his lips spread to a smile seeing that you held two cups of hot drink.

"I was sure that I could clean it all but.. guess another time it is then."

#mlbb #mlbb x reader #mobile legends #mobile legends bang bang #mobile legends x reader #mobile legends bang bang x reader #gn reader #lancelot #mlbb lancelot #faramis #mlbb faramis #hayabusa #mlbb hayabusa #clint #mlbb clint #fanfiction #christmas

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foundtherightwords · 10 months

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Irresistibly Contagious

Pairing: Arthur Havisham (Dickensian) x OFC (Elsie from "The Road Forgotten")

Summary: Arthur discovers the joy of Christmas with some help from Elsie and two unexpected guests.

A/N: This was written for the JQ Holiday Ficathon. Since Dickensianis a Christmas show, I've wanted to write a Christmas fic for Arthur for a while, but as I was in the middle of my longer WIP, I thought I wouldn't be able to finish it in time, but I did! It's technically a sequel to "The Road Forgotten", though you can more or less read it as a standalone.

And of course, I had to have some references to Dickens in here. The title is a quote from "A Christmas Carol" ("There is nothing in the world so irresistibly contagious as laughter and good humor.") The quote about family ("Not merely those with whom we share blood...") is a paraphrase from "Nicholas Nickleby".

Warnings: None! There are some very brief mentions of psychological trauma and infertility, but other than that, it's the fluffiest of fluff fics.

Word count: 7k

The village of Oakley lay at the foot of the Surrey Hills, a handful of cottages clustered together, overlooked by a church at one end and a manor house at the other, with a little thoroughfare called the High Street by its inhabitants with a touching, if slightly inflated, sense of pride. As it is usually the case with an English village, especially one of this size, everybody tends to know everybody's business. They take great satisfaction in it. When Mr. Babcock made his first visit to the doctor in twenty years, his illness was known around the village by lunchtime. When Mrs. Shackleton bought marmalade at the village shop, it meant her mother-in-law was visiting and she couldn't bring out her homemade preserves for fear of the old woman's reproach. When young Stanley Milford went to the West Indies for five years and came back with a native wife in tow, the story of exactly where and how he'd acquired her was quickly discovered and whispered over teapots and shop counters for days.

This is not to say that the people of Oakley are a censorious, meddlesome lot, far from it. They care for their neighbors. Thanks to them, Mr. Babcock's son was able to come back from Scotland and saw his father one last time before the old man passed away. Mr. Sidwell, the grocer, knew to keep a pot of marmalade on the side for Mrs. Shackleton whenever he saw her going to meet the stagecoach. And despite their initial wariness, they eventually made Mrs. Milford feel welcomed. No, the people of Oakley are good and kind. They simply think that lending one's neighbor a cup of sugar is an excellent opportunity to find out what they are having for pudding, that's all.

So when some people moved into the old Avery cottage on the edge of the village, they caused quite a ripple in the still pond of Oakley. The newcomers were a young couple, though they didn't have the bright, eager look of the newly married about to build a life together. They looked rather world-weary, like those who had been through a lot and only wanted to settle down to a quiet existence. That contradiction was enough to pique the village's curiosity.

The husband, a pale, boyish young man, was called Arthur. The villagers couldn't seem to find out what his christened name was. The wife, handsome rather than pretty, was Elizabeth, or Elsie, as her husband could be heard calling her. So they became known as the Arthurs. Supposedly they used to live in London and came to Surrey for Mr. Arthur's health. When the villagers heard of this, they nodded sagely, for Mr. Sidwell, whose son worked as a clerk in London, never missed an opportunity to regal his customers with tales of the horrors of the big city. Anyone who moved away from that den of vice and pollution was bound to have a lot of good senses.

But some uneasiness remained. Truth be told, the couple did nothing to disrupt the quiet life of the village. They kept to themselves, worked hard to turn the old dilapidated cottage into a cozy, homey place, and were affectionate with each other and cordial to their neighbors. Their biggest fault, however, was something the people of Oakley could not overlook: they did not celebrate Christmas.

For a small village, Oakley took Christmas very seriously. Every year, as December rolled around, the village positively dripped with evergreens, pine boughs and ivy vines and holly branches adorned every door and window, Mr. Sidwell's shelves burst with chocolate and oranges and other good food, people talked of little else but the Christmas feast that the Squire gave every year at the Assembly Hall, and children could be seen gawking at the toys on display in the window of the village shop or racing after the fattened geese as they marched through the village on their way to the Christmas Market in London.

Through it all, the old cottage at the edge of the village stood quiet and closed off. No wreaths decorated its front door, no cheerful carols came through the window, no enticing smell of roast goose or plum pudding rose from the chimney. The Arthurs, who went to church as regularly as the rest of the village, made no appearance at the Christmas service, bought no Christmas present or provision, and although the Squire extended to them an invitation to the feast on the very first Christmas since they arrived, every year they politely declined. There were always excuses. They had just moved in and couldn't prepare in time. Mr. Arthur wasn't feeling well enough. They were away visiting families (Mrs. Shackleton, whose house was closest to the old Avery place, went by to check that year, and indeed, they seemed to be away during the day but were certainly back in time for the feast that evening.)

Since the Arthurs seemed in every other way pleasant and humble, the villagers agreed that this was not a snub to the Squire or the village itself. The only reason they could think of was that the young couple, inexplicably, objected to the very idea of Christmas itself.

But the young couple didn't object to the idea of Christmas, or at least, only one of them did.

"I ran into Mrs. Shackleton at the shop today," Elsie told Arthur as they walked down the path that led from the woods behind their cottage to the back gate of Langton Asylum. This was a shortcut they had discovered shortly after moving to Oakley. It was a rather pretty walk in the spring and summer, through dells and glades filled with bluebells and other wildflowers, and shaved off nearly half a mile from the main road, for which Arthur was grateful. It had been nearly four years, but his bullet wound still troubled him sometimes.

And more importantly, the shortcut shielded them and their weekly visit to Elsie's sister, Marianne, from the prying eyes of the likes of Mrs. Shackleton. Arthur knew Elsie had worked hard to keep Marianne's existence a secret, not because she was ashamed in any way, but because she knew how the villagers would talk if they found out she had a sister in a lunatic asylum, and talk was something both Arthur and Elsie wished to avoid.

"What did she say?" Arthur groaned. He was more sensitive to gossip than Elsie, having been subjected to it most of his life, and had had to avoid even going out into the garden for the past few days for fear of being accosted by Mrs. Shackleton. He had a very good guess as to what that good lady had to say.

"Oh, she asked what I was going to wear to the Christmas feast." Elsie glanced at him questioningly, and Arthur braced himself for the inevitable. "I told her I haven't decided yet," Elsie continued. "Are we going?"

Arthur sighed. "Elsie, you know I don't want to."

"I know." Elsie tucked her arm through his. "Only this would be the fourth year in a row, and I do believe Mrs. Shackleton would come to our door to personally drag us to the feast if we decline again. We may need a plan of escape."

Arthur smiled but felt no amusement. When they first came to Oakley, he had been recovering from his injury, and with the roof leaking everywhere and the rest of the cottage barely fit to be inhabited, Elsie had gone along with his decision to not join the Christmas feast. But when he had declined again the year after that and showed no wish to celebrate Christmas at home either, Elsie had been at first surprised, then indignant, and then, when Arthur had refused to explain it, she had dropped the question, but it became a sore subject for them ever since.

From her gentle teasing, Arthur knew Elsie was trying to make light of the matter. He also knew he was being selfish, and unfair to her.

"You can go, if you wish," he told her.

"I'm not going alone. How would that look?" Elsie replied, aghast. She peered at him, her green eyes slightly hurt but still full of sympathy, trying to understand. "What is it, Arthur? Why don't you like Christmas?"

"I have nothing against Christmas," Arthur said with a scowl. "I simply think it's silly to spend money on a tree that you're going to throw away and overpriced gifts!"

"What about love, compassion, good cheers, and all that?"

"Those are just pretty words, made up to sell chocolate and sugar biscuits."

Elsie stopped in her tracks, her arm slipping out of his. "You sound like a bitter old man. What about family?"

"Family?!" Arthur exploded. "What family? Our parents are gone, your sister is in an asylum, and mine has locked herself away in a crumbling old house. What sort of family do you call that?"

As soon as those words were out of his mouth, he realized how horrible and hateful they were. He could only watch helplessly as Elsie reared back, looking like he'd just struck her across the face.

"Elsie, I—I'm sorry—" he said, reaching for her hand.

Elsie stood still, not moving away from him, but not responding to his touch either. "Aren't we a family?" she said with a quietness that hurt him a thousand times more than her rage. "Or am I not enough for you?"

Arthur silently cursed himself. How could he have been so stupid? When they had first become intimate, Elsie had told him of an accident during her years of working at a bawdyhouse, which had left her unable to bear a child. Although Arthur had reassured her again and again that it made no difference to him, he knew she still keenly felt the pain, the void. And here he was, reminding her of that void all over again.

"We are," he said, drawing her into an embrace. "And you are. More than enough." He kissed her to show her how much he meant it.

Elsie's stiff back slowly relaxed under his hands. Encouraged by her response, he took a deep breath and revealed the painful truth. "I know this doesn't excuse what I said, but the last Christmas I had with my sister—with Amelia—that was right after our father died. The beginning of the end. Compeyson had wormed his way into that party, tainting its memory. From then on, I could never celebrate Christmas without feeling like I was making a mockery out of everything."

Elsie's eyes softened. "Why didn't you tell me this before?"

Arthur shook his head miserably. "I didn't want you to think Compeyson still had any influence on our lives." Damn Compeyson. Damn him to Hell. Arthur could never utter that name without tasting bile in the back of his throat. It seemed they could never be rid of that fiend.

"But he's in prison," Elsie reminded him. She cradled his face between her palms, her touch both fierce and comforting. "If we avoid mentioning him, we will always have to live in fear of him. He is gone, Arthur. And we must continue with our lives."

Arthur nodded, wishing he had her conviction. They went on their way, Arthur slipping his arm around Elsie's waist to hold her close. From time to time, he caught her looking at him with a thoughtful expression, but she said nothing.

By the time they arrived at Langton and an orderly had brought Marianne out, Elsie seemed to have forgotten the fight, turning her focus on her sister. They gave Marianne a bag of oranges and some chocolate—though they didn't celebrate Christmas, they always brought little gifts for her. Marianne exclaimed over them with the delight of a child, which she was, still, mentally and emotionally. Elsie stood a little further back, watching, as was her habit—Marianne had improved a great deal over the years, but she was still in danger of a relapse if she was reminded of the past, and sadly, that included Elsie. The look on Elsie's face, half of love, half of fear, whenever she turned to her sister, put a twinge in Arthur's heart. A visit to Marianne was always bittersweet for Elsie, and he wanted to kick himself for piling on her pain with that pointless fight.

While they sat with Marianne outside—it was cold, but the snow was yet to arrive, and the garden gave them a reprise from the constant moans and screams of the asylum—Arthur saw, curiously, two children running around, a girl of about seven or eight and the boy of three or four. They didn't make a lot of noise, but their lively movements and quiet giggles struck an incongruous note amongst the sedate inmates of Langton. This was no workhouse, so where had these children come from? Were they with a visitor?

Arthur soon had his answer. A woman, dazed and frail-looking, was led into the garden by an orderly, and the children ran up to her—or rather, only the little boy ran to her, showing her all sorts of things he'd found, from a pretty pebble to a piece of string. Meanwhile, his older sister stood back, looking at the woman with the same exact expression that Elsie had whenever she looked at Marianne. It was painful to see such a grown-up look on a child's face. The woman didn't respond to the boy. She didn't even seem aware of either child.

Marianne gave the children some chocolate, which they took gratefully. The little boy clearly wanted more, and Marianne offered him the rest of the bag, but his older sister held his hand back. "That's enough, Simon," she said sternly. "Remember what Mama says. You mustn't be greedy. Save some for Marianne."

Elsie and Arthur smiled at her bossy tone, though Arthur felt an echo of guilt in his heart, faint but never faded, like an old scar. Those children reminded him of another girl and another little boy, running around Satis House a long, long time ago. He hadn't heard any news of Amelia in nearly two years, since their lawyer, Jaggers, informed them that Amelia had adopted a little girl, whom she named Estella. Arthur hoped that Estella could bring his sister, if not happiness, then at least some comfort.

Later, as they took their leave, little Simon ran up to Elsie and shyly presented her with a branch of holly, its red berries shining like rubies amongst the shiny green leaves.

"Why, thank you," Elsie said, sticking the holly to the brim of her bonnet. "Do I look ready for the Christmas pageant now?"

The boy only smiled at her. Arthur wondered if he could talk at all.

A voice called behind them, "Simon! Betsy! Stop bothering the visitors and go inside now, it's time for your tea." They turned around to find Mrs. Gordon, the matron, striding toward them. The children took off running.

"Is the asylum now taking on the children of patients as well, Mrs. Gordon?" Elsie asked, after they had exchanged greetings.

Mrs. Gordon shook her head with a sigh. "No, these are special circumstances." She dropped her voice. "Their father was killed in a mine collapse right after Simon was born. The shock was too much for their mother." She indicated the frail woman, who was still walking around the garden in short, jerky steps, leaning on the orderly's arms. "She can no longer take care of them. A benefactress has arranged for her to come here and the children to be put into an orphanage, but it is too close to Christmas, the orphanage cannot take them yet. I'm letting them stay with me in the meantime, but you both know that this is no place for children—"

As if to prove her words, a long, mournful wail sounded from somewhere in the depths of the building. A moment later, the children came running out again, their faces pale.

"Mrs. Gordon," said the girl, Betsy. "Daisy did it again. She called Simon her son and grabbed at him." Simon clung to the matron's skirt, his sleeve hiked up to reveal a reddened wrist.

Mrs. Gordon gave Elsie and Arthur a long-suffering look. "All right, dearies," she said, absently patting Simon's head. "You stay here and have tea with me."

"Which orphanage, do you know?" Arthur asked her in a low voice, so the children wouldn't hear.

"I don't know. I only know it's in London. It's been all arranged."

Arthur fell quiet. During his time in London, he'd seen enough of those orphanages and workhouses, like the one ran by the Bumbles, not far from where he used to live, to know what their conditions were like. He looked down and saw little Simon's brown eyes staring up at him. He tried to remember if he'd ever looked like that once, so trusting and full of hope. He must have.

"Arthur, can I have a word with you in private, please?" Elsie said, drawing him away.

Arthur knew what she had in mind even before she could open her mouth. He could see his own thoughts reflected on her face. "Elsie, no."

"I haven't said anything yet!"

"I know what you were going to say. We can't."

"It's only for Christmas!"

"Let Mrs. Gordon take care of them."

"She has her hands full with all the patients. And you see it yourself, it's not safe for them."

"We don't have the space."

"There's the spare room."

"They're children, not some stray dogs or cats we pick up from the street—"

"Exactly." Elsie looked straight at him. "They're children, Arthur. And they have no one. Just like us."

"We have each other."

"We found each other. And now they've found us."

She took his hand and laced her fingers through his. When she held his hand like that and looked at him with those green eyes, so bright and beseeching, he would've given her the world. He relented. "Well, if you can convince them—"

A quick smile lit up Elsie's face. "Mrs. Gordon," she said. "Would you trust the care of these children to us? They can stay with us during Christmas, and once the—once they are ready to leave, we shall deliver them back to you."

"Could you?" Mrs. Gordon said in relief. "That would be a great weight off my shoulders. We're always short-staffed around the holidays, I can't spare anyone to watch them too."

Elsie turned to the children and asked, "How would you like to stay with us for a few days? We live in a cottage not far from here."

Simon let go of Mrs. Gordon and tugged at Elsie's sleeve, pointing to her reticule, where she'd kept the chocolate. Elsie laughed. "No more chocolate for you, young sir," she said, "though you can have cake for tea if you want."

That seemed good enough for the boy, but his sister was more circumspect. Her eyes, of a darker brown than her brother's, regarded Arthur and Elsie with suspicion.

"You told us we can stay with Mama until after Christmas," she said to Mrs. Gordon, accusingly.

Mrs. Gordon cleared her throat, uncomfortable. Elsie crouched down until her face was level with the girl's. "You are Betsy, aren't you?" she said.

"My name is Elizabeth," the girl said, lifting her chin, "but Mama calls me Betsy."

"That's my name too, except I'm called Elsie. This is Arthur. And I believe you know my sister, Marianne." The girl nodded, still full of wariness. "Now, I promise you, Betsy, that you and your brother can come visit your mama any time you want. And if you don't like staying with us, we'll bring you back here to Mrs. Gordon right away. Do we have an agreement?"

She extended a hand. After a moment's hesitation, Betsy placed her own small hand in Elsie's, and they shook.

Soon, Arthur and Elsie were leading the children down the path back to Oakley, Arthur carrying the two small valises containing their things. Elise took Simon's hand, but Betsy stood at the start of the path with her arms crossed, refusing to move.

"Why are we going through the woods?" she asked.

"It's a shortcut," replied Elsie.

"A shortcut?" Doubt flitted across the girl's face. "I don't believe you. Is it some sort of trick?"

"It's not a trick, Betsy," Elsie said, her eyes twinkling. "We live in a cottage made out of gingerbread, and this is the only way to get to it."

Simon's jaw dropped. Betsy rolled her eyes with all the exasperation and contempt of a big sister, which Arthur instantly recognized from his childhood memories of Amelia. Elsie must have recognized it in herself as well, for she turned away to hide a grin.

"There is no such thing as a gingerbread cottage, Simon," Betsy said. "It's only a story."

Arthur was close to leaving the girl in the woods at this point, but Elsie's patience knew no bounds. She simply said, "Well, why don't you come along and find out then?" and went on her way.

Betsy scowled, but eventually, she followed them, running ahead to take Simon's other hand, not wanting Elsie to command his entire attention.

Back at the cottage, while Elsie busied herself making up the bed in the spare room, Arthur stirred up the fire in the kitchen and put the kettle on. He brought out the seed cake Elsie had baked the previous day, which went a long way toward lessening little Simon's disappointment that the cottage was not made out of gingerbread. The cake even managed to smooth out some of the furrow between Betsy's eyes as well.

"You don't have any Christmas decorations," the girl pointed out.

"Oh, we don't—" Arthur began, but he didn't have a chance to finish, for Elsie had appeared in the doorway and smoothly interjected.

"We don't have time to put them up yet," she said. "Do you want to help?"

The children's eyes both lit up eagerly.

"Then eat up and have a good night's sleep," Elsie continued, "and we'll start early tomorrow, shall we?"

As the children stuffed themselves on the cake and scones and preserves, Arthur went into the spare room on the pretext of helping Elsie. He grumbled, "I know what you're trying to do."

"I'm not trying anything," she said evenly, spreading a quilt on the little bed. "I only see some poor, lost children, and I'm doing my best to give them a happy Christmas. You don't have to be such a grouch about it."

Arthur didn't ask if she was including him as one of those poor, lost children as well.

***

The next morning, Arthur was awakened by Simon's excited scream—the snow had finally arrived, and the cottage and the garden were covered in a white blanket, as though a giant baker had passed by during the night and given everything a dusting of icing sugar. Arthur grudgingly admitted to himself that it was the perfect Christmas scene.

After breakfast, Elsie took her old coat off the peg by the kitchen door and turned to the children. "Which one of you would like to go with me and pick out a tree?"

Simon jumped up, waving his arm.

"And where are you going to find this tree?" Arthur asked.

"In the woods," said Elsie. She went out the back door and picked up the axe lying by their wood pile.

The thought of her trampling through the cold and the snow while he sat at home with his feet by the fire was more than Arthur could bear. He snatched the axe out of her hands. "You'll do no such thing. I'll go."

"But—your wound—in this cold—"

"I was shot through the collarbone, not my lungs. I'll be fine."

A small smile played around Elsie's lips as she watched Arthur shrug on his coat, while she buttoned little Simon into his jacket. She then wrapped a scarf around Arthur's neck and tucked the ends into his coat.

"Find us a pretty tree, won't you, my dear?" she said, giving him a peck on the lips.

"You'll find that my taste in Christmas trees is impeccable. And don't call me 'my dear'," Arthur said, trying to scowl and failing utterly. "You sounded like that old crook Fagin."

They set out into that world of white, Arthur slowing his stride to match Simon's short one. The boy said nothing. The silence between them was peaceful, not uncomfortable, broken only by the crunch of the snow under their feet and Simon's occasional tuneless but contented humming. Arthur was thankful for that, for he had no idea what to say to Simon. He didn't have Elsie's easy way with children, and there was no one he could have looked to as a model. His father had been both harsh and distant; Arthur's only memories of him were of his many reproaches and punishments.

They managed to find a little fir tree of just the right size in the woods behind the cottage. "What do you think?" Arthur asked. "Is that pretty enough for Elsie?"

Simon nodded, his eyes shining.

They dragged the tree back to the cottage and set it up by the fireplace in the parlor. Bare as it was, it already gave the room a Christmassy look. Elsie was in the kitchen, rolling out gingerbread dough and cutting it with a knife under Betsy's critical eye.

"What are you doing?" Arthur asked, hanging up his and Simon's coats.

"Making gingerbread biscuits. We can hang them up on the trees, and eat them afterwards."

"What's that supposed to be?" He glanced at the shape Elsie was cutting.

"A bird," Elsie said, sounding peeved. "Isn't it obvious?"

"You don't say. I would think it's a mushroom."

Betsy hid her giggle behind her hand. Elsie glared at Arthur. "All right, so I might have skipped a drawing lesson or two in school. I'd like to see you try!"

Arthur was not artistic, but at least he'd had a few more drawing lessons than Elsie. While he cut the dough into birds, houses, stars, and men, Elsie taught the children to make garlands out of dried apple slices and stick cloves into fresh oranges to make pretty patterns. Soon, the gingerbread was in the oven, and the warm, spicy fragrance of ginger and cloves were added to the sweet smell of the fruits. Arthur shared the offcuts with the children, and when Elsie chided him for setting a bad example by eating raw dough, he only winked at them and popped another piece into his mouth.

Since that morning, Arthur had existed in a state of fearful anticipation. After Elsie had told him she was determined to have a Christmas celebration for the children whether he wanted to or not, he had been waiting for something to go wrong, for the old feeling of dread and guilt to come creeping back like a thief in the night. But it never came. It helped that Elsie kept him busy so he had no time to think about the past, and what they were doing was so different from what he was used to. He didn't remember much of his childhood Christmases, and after he came of age, Christmas had always been a day of gaming and whoring and drinking, until, inebriated, he would crawl back to Satis House in time to make an appearance at the Christmas ball and be reminded of what a disgrace he was to the Havisham name.

There was none of that in their little cottage. No scandalized whispers behind gloved hands, no cold looks of disapproval and disappointment, no harsh words of reprimand. There was only the soft swishing of Elsie's skirt as she moved from the table to the oven, the sound of her humming while she bent over a task, and the children's laughs. The sole note of discord was when Betsy told Simon he had put too many cloves into his orange and it looked like a hedgehog, and Simon stuck his tongue out at her, and even then, their argument felt tranquil, comforting in its triviality. The knot in Arthur's stomach slowly loosened, to be replaced by a little warmth. How much of that was due to Elsie's gingerbread and how much was due to her presence, he couldn't say.

After the gingerbread had finished baking and cooled, Elsie iced them with sugar, put a piece of red ribbon through each, and together, they hung the shapes on the tree—Arthur managing to sneak a few more bites—and wound the garland of dried apple slices around it. Arthur draped some ivy on the mantelpiece. Elsie placed the clove-studded oranges amongst the green leaves, and they all stepped back to admire the effect.

"Well, Betsy?" Elsie asked. "What do you think of our Christmas decorations?"

"'s nice," Betsy said, discerning as ever. "But the top of the tree is missing." She turned and ran into the spare room.

Arthur and Elsie exchanged puzzled looks, but they soon had their answer, for Betsy returned presently, bearing an angel with a wooden head and a skirt and wings made out of gold foil.

"How pretty!" Elsie cried. "Where did it come from?"

"Papa and I made it," Betsy said, cradling the angel in her hands like a precious treasure. "He painted the face and cut out her wings and I made her skirt. He said for Simon's first Christmas, he would let Simon put her on top of the tree, but..." She sniffed and wiped furiously at her nose. "He never got to. And we never had a tree again."

Elsie looked close to tears herself. She reached out a hesitant hand, and when Betsy didn't move away, gave the girl's shoulder a comforting squeeze. "Oh, sweetheart..."

Betsy said nothing, just stood with her head bent over the angel, and kept sniffling.

"Well, we have a tree now," Arthur said, "and we can certainly have Simon put the angel on top of it, can't we?"

He held out a handkerchief to Betsy. She obediently blew her nose and gave him a tentative smile. Arthur couldn't help smiling back. "Where's Simon?" he asked.

"He's probably cleaning up the last of the gingerbread," Elsie said, stepping into the kitchen. "I'll bring him."

She returned a mere moment later, eyes wide. "I can't find him."

"He must be around here somewhere," said Arthur.

"I was just in the bedroom, he wasn't there," Betsy reminded them.

Elsie ran to their own bedroom and quickly came back, shaking her head. Arthur's stomach dropped. The cottage was tiny—only the parlor, the kitchen, and the two bedrooms. There was nowhere to hide. And if Simon had gone outside, surely they would've seen him, wouldn't they? Unless he'd used the backdoor...

"Simon!" he called. "Where are you?"

"If you're hiding, it's not funny!" Betsy chimed in.

Elsie wasted no time. She went through all the rooms, opened every cupboard, and looked under every piece of furniture. When this yielded no sign of the boy, she threw on a coat and went outside. Arthur and Betsy followed her.

The snow, which had stopped while Arthur and Simon had been in the woods, was coming back, a spinning, churning curtain of white. Usually, such a scene would compel Arthur to stop whatever he was doing and marvel at the beauty of nature, but now, all he could think was how this fresh snow had covered up any footsteps Simon might have left. They spread out around the garden, calling for the boy, their voices sounding thin and reedy, muffled by the snow.

"Simon!"

"You don't—you don't think he's gone into the woods, do you?" Elsie said to Arthur, her lips trembling slightly.

"No," Arthur replied with a conviction he did not feel, trying to reassure her. "It's dark and frightening. Why would he go there?" All the while, he kept thinking that everything had gone wrong again. There may be no Compeyson darkening their doorstep, but this could be worse, much worse.

"Simon!"

They were in the back garden now. The woods, which had looked so lovely and inviting that morning when they went in to cut the tree, now stretched out cold and forbidding in the gathering gloom. If Simon had indeed wandered in there, how could they ever hope to find the boy with the snow coming down thicker and faster every minute? Arthur peered into the snow-covered grove, trying in vain to spot something that didn't belong. He realized he didn't even know what Simon was wearing. Why hadn't he kept a closer eye on the boy? How long had he been gone? How long could a little boy like that survive in the woods? Some guardian he was...

"Simon!"

"We can't go into the woods by ourselves," Elsie said, trembling either from the cold or fear. "We have to alert the neighbors, rouse a search party—"

"Miss-toe," said a voice from above, interrupting her.

They all looked up. The old apple tree was spreading its limbs over their heads, and there, perched on one of the topmost branches, was Simon. He was reaching for a clump of mistletoe at the very end of the branch, a defiant spot of bright green on the gray bare tree, the pearl-like berries gleaming here and there amongst the leaves.

"Miss-toe," Simon said again.

"Oh my goodness!" Elsie cried, arms outstretched even though Simon was far out of her reach. "Simon, sweetheart, don't move! Arthur, get the ladder!"

The ladder was already there, leaning against the tree—it must have been how Simon had managed to get on the tree in the first place. Arthur quickly climbed up and grabbed Simon, holding the boy tight to his chest for a moment, breathing in the warm gingerbread smell from his hair, feeling weak with relief. Then, carefully tucking the boy against him, he made his way down the ladder again.

The moment Arthur and Simon were back on the ground, Betsy was upon Simon, shaking him. "You idiot!" she screamed. "Didn't you hear us shouting for you?"

Elsie came to Simon's rescue, sweeping both him and Betsy into her arms in a tight hug. "Hush, Betsy," she said. "Everything's all right now."

Betsy buried her face in Elsie's shoulder, her rage quieting down into relieved sobs. Arthur knelt down and found himself enveloped in the hug as well.

Simon, oblivious to all the alarm and fear he'd caused, leaned out of Elsie's arm to point at the mistletoe again. "Now kiss," he commanded.

Elsie laughed. "You're a slyboots, aren't you?" She obliged anyway, and then, because they were all under the mistletoe, Betsy and Arthur each got a kiss as well. They sat there for a while, holding each other. The snow, big, ponderous flakes that did not so much fall as swirl majestically through the air, kept landing on their head, brushing their cheeks and their eyelashes with icy kisses, but Arthur hardly felt the cold. The warmth inside him grew, slowly but steadily, like the first spark of a fire.

***

Arthur put his gifts under the tree, a book of poetry and a little brooch for Elsie. Other gifts were already there, a silk cravat he'd seen Elsie working on for some time, a little hair bow, and a box of wooden blocks carefully sanded smooth and painted with colorful letters, things she must have made the previous night, after they'd decided to have the children stay with them. That was Elsie all over, always thinking of others, always taking care of everyone.

Looking over their parlor, he could hardly recognize it from the little room he was used to. It had always been cozy, if a little cluttered, but now, with the Christmas tree, completed with its gleaming candles and the angel on top—Arthur had lifted Simon up so he could put it in place—by the side of the fireplace, providing a spot of light and glitter, and the branches of holly and ivy draped on the mantelpiece and wound around the windows, it looked... festive. Cheerful. They hadn't discussed attending the village Christmas feast yet, but Arthur felt he could face it now, and perhaps even enjoy it as well.

In the spare room, Elsie was putting Betsy and Simon to bed. Arthur came to stand at the doorway and watched while she plumped their pillows and tucked the quilt more closely around them, murmuring some gentleness. Simon, tired after a day of excitement and his adventure with the mistletoe, fell asleep right away, but Betsy was still awake. She said, in a small voice, "Elsie?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Are we going to see Mama tomorrow?"

"Of course. You and Simon have to give her your presents, don't you?" That evening, Elsie had helped Betsy bake a little cake, and Arthur had managed to cut down some of the mistletoe after all, so Simon could wrap a bunch of it in a red ribbon as his present.

"And—and—are we—"

"What is it, Betsy?"

It came out in a rush. "Are we to stay with Mrs. Gordon until she takes us to the orphanage? Or can we stay with you?"

Elsie hesitated. "You can stay with us as long as you like," eventually she said.

"They're going to separate us in the orphanage, you know," Betsy said, as Elsie was getting to her feet.

Elsie froze. "Where did you hear that?" she asked.

Betsy shrugged. "Everybody knows they keep boys and girls separate there," she said with an air of resignation that seemed much older than her eight years. "But how'd Simon get on without me? He doesn't talk much. They'll think he's strange. And what if he wets the bed? He still does." She added, with loyalty, "Only sometimes though."

Elsie turned around and met Arthur's eyes. On her face, he saw reflected the agony in his heart. Then she turned back to Betsy and tried to put on a cheerful voice. "Come, let's don't worry about that tonight, shall we?" she said. "Now go to sleep, or you won't get your gifts in the morning."

Only after she'd closed the door to the spare room that Elsie fell into Arthur's arms and allowed her tears to flow. He held her close, rocking her against his shoulder. "Don't cry," he said softly. "You're doing a wonderful thing for those children."

"But is it enough?"

Arthur thought of how Simon had looked at him when Mrs. Gordon mentioned the orphanage, and how the boy's eyes had shone when they found the tree, when he found the mistletoe. He thought of how the four of them had held on to each other in the snow. They had felt like a family. He hadn't felt that sense of belonging in a long time, had never felt it until he met Elsie. Perhaps this is what family is. Not merely those with whom we share blood, but those for whom we would give our blood as well. The warmth inside him grew into a flame, bright and glowing, and with it, a decision formed in his mind.

"We could do more," he told Elsie. "We could keep them here, with us. We could take care of them, and have them close to their mother."

Elsie lifted her tear-stained face to look at him, understanding dawning, mingled with disbelief and trepidation.

"Could we?" she said.

"I'm sure it can be arranged. I shall ask Jaggers. He's arranged for Amelia to adopt Estella."

"No, I didn't mean the legality of it. I mean—could we take care of them?"

"We have been taking care of them."

"It's been only one day, and Simon almost broke his neck."

"He didn't, did he?"

Elsie still seemed unconvinced. "But could we do this for years and years and years?"

Arthur looked into her eyes and entwined their fingers together, finding his strength from their touches, their connection, as always.

"We can," he said simply, but that was enough for her.

"If you'd promise not to eat any more raw biscuit dough," she said.

"If it's as good as your gingerbread?" Arthur said in mock consternation. "I can't possibly stay away!"

They both laughed then, and Arthur leaned in to give Elsie a kiss, a long, lingering one that was an apology, an expression of gratitude, and a promise, all wrapped up into one. There was no mistletoe above them—they'd decided to leave the rest of it on the apple tree, for next year—but Arthur didn't need the mistletoe as an excuse to kiss Elsie.

"Merry Christmas, Miss Bradford," he whispered.

"Merry Christmas, Mr. Havisham," she said, kissing him back.

***

The next day, the villagers of Oakley got the shock of their lives when the Arthurs arrived in church just in time for Christmas service, bringing with them two little children, smiling shyly at their neighbors as they slipped into a pew. Gone was the weary, wary look on the young couple's faces, and as they looked at each other and at the children, whose hands they were holding, their eyes shone with such hope that the villagers felt this was a more eloquent picture of the Christmas spirit than all the decorations and gifts and feasts in the world.

Of course, Mrs. Shackleton took all the credit for herself, claiming she had finally convinced the couple down with her neighborly solicitude and persuasion. The rest of the villagers, on the other hand, simply chalked it up to a Christmas miracle.

THE END

#arthur havisham #dickensian #arthur havisham fic #arthur havisham x ofc #joseph quinn fic #joseph quinn #12 days of joemas #holiday ficathon #its beginning to look a lot like quinnmas

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ineffabletwaddle13 · 1 year

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Holmes and Watson comfort their client and when she says she doesn't have much money Holmes says "nevermind, there's no fee"

*me metaphorically shutting the prison door hatch on unkind Holmes adaptations*

#Holmes is kind!#1954 sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes #ronald howard holmes #ronald howard #holmes and watson #doctor watson #221b baker street #the case of the Christmas pudding #the case of the jolly hangman

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blatentmisinformation · 2 months

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Black pudding is so named due to its resemblance to Christmas pudding, especially in round casing.

#black pudding #food facts #british cuisine #christmas pudding

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maxverstappensflatbrim · 9 months

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Show Me Yours

Christmas Blurb Three - Presents

December 22nd 2014

“Okay… sit… sit, Button. Sit-”

Tommie groans as the front door opens and Button runs to Adam who balances things on his arm. “Adam!” Carly yells as she appears around the corner wiping her hands in a tea towel, “What did I tell you about slamming the doors?”

“Sorry, Carls.”

“Okay, Button, let’s try again.”

“What are you doing?”

Adam looks down but then sighs as he sees the dog dressed in a pudding outfit with a little santa hat, he places all the wrapped presents onto one of the arm chairs and crouches down to the dog, “What’s she doing to you, hmm?”

“She loves it,” Tommie says watching Button fall onto her back for some belly scratches, “She keeps bringing it to me to put it on.”

“I’m sure this is animal cruelty.”

“You’re just jealous because she looks better than you.”

Adam rolls his eyes but the grin on his face doesn’t leave as he scratches Button’s head. “What have you gotten me for Christmas?” She asks, smiling down at him with her puppy dog eyes.

“Not telling.”

“Aw come on, it’s not as if I’m five years old expecting Santa to come down the chimney in a few days.”

“Still not telling. You’ll have to wait.”

“But-” He says getting something out of his bag, “This was on the porch for you. Not sure who it’s from.”

Tommie knows. The moment she reads the little label that says ‘To Baby’ she knows who the gift is from.

“I’m gonna go chuck my jamas on.”

“Okay, don’t be long,” Carly calls from the kitchen, “We’re gonna watch Home Alone.”

When alone in the spare bedroom of Carly and Adam’s home she sits on the bed cross legged and tears open the wrapping paper.

Inside is a small CD case, on the front is a picture of the band when they first did a gig together. It’s a picture after the show, George and Ross are holding Tommie up by her legs and Matty’s crouching under her to stop her from falling. You can see the top of Adam’s head over Ross’ shoulder, he’d been behind her so she didn’t fall backwards.

She turns it over, the back is a picture of the stars with the contents of the CD written in Matty’s messy handwriting.

Woman

Me (Tommie’s Vocals)

Lostmyhead

Antichrist

Lost Boys // 28 (Tommie’s Vocals)

Robbers (Matty ad Tommie’s Vocals)

Chocolate (Single Version)

It’s then she realises that it’s their first recording session, the one they’d spent weeks perfecting for the EP. She pulls it out and glances around, she doesn’t have a CD player, so she rushes downstairs and grabs her car keys with a promise of returning with more wine.

She drives until she finds a secluded pull in near the old rugby pitch they’d mess around in. Then sits and listens to the CD until Carly’s calling her for the fifth time to check in. Even then she lingers in the parked car to listen once more.

#show me yours matty healy #matty healy x oc #matty healy x reader #the 1975 x oc

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the-prince-of-professors · 9 months

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❄️Baker Street Christmas Watchalong Friday 22/12!❄️

Me and @tremendousdetectivetheorist thought that we should have a little get-together this Christmas! On Friday at 19:00 GMT we will head over to 221B Baker Street for some Victorian holiday mystery solving, and anyone is welcome to join! We will begin the evening with Howard Holmes's "The Case of the Christmas Pudding" (~30 min), then move on to Granada's "The Blue Carbuncle" (~50 min), and then end with some carol singing from Holmes and Watson with good wishes!

When: Friday 22/12 at 19:00 London time (Time zone converter)

Where: Caracal.club (signup not necessary, but will allow you to display a user name!)

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lykegenia · 9 months

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Unicorns And Mistletoe

The Wayhaven Chronicles Nate Sewell x Leah Kingston No warnings except, as always, Rebecca being parent of the year

Read it on AO3!

She’s three, and old enough to know it’s part of the punishment. She still has yet to understand what the punishment is for, but she knows that if she can just work it out then her mummy will come back and everything will be alright again. The people she left her with – kind, smiling, smelling of gingerbread – are nice, and their warm house is nice, and all the Christmas lights twinkle together in a confusion of reds and greens and golds, and they told her the guest of honour gets to add a bobble – no, bauble – to the Christmas tree. They clapped and smiled when she picked the sparkly plastic reindeer from the box and hung it on the highest branch she could reach, and told her that was the surest way to summon Christmas magic.

They’ve left her alone now, though, because she said that she wanted to look out of the window, and they’re kind people so they set her up with a cushion and a cookie and milk in a plastic glass with a fairy on it. There’s a creeping feeling in her chest that it was the wrong choice, that she’s not doing what she’s supposed to, because every so often she hears footsteps and then a pause, and then they shuffle away again and murmur between themselves in way she’s come to learn signifies pity. But nobody stops her, so she doesn’t turn around. She sits by the window and stares out and eats the cookie slowly and puzzles over how to make the Christmas magic work so that everything stops being her fault.

She’s seven, watching the rush of her classmates burst out into the playground like a torrent of water from a leaky dam, straight for the line of parents waiting just beyond the gates. She herself goes at a steadier pace, the better to observe the crush of adults huddled under scarves and thick winter coats just in case there’s one she recognises. She’s a clever child, however – all her teachers say so – and she learnt quickly not to expect too much. The others are shouting and laughing, and holding up the Christmas decorations they made for proud inspection. Her own pinecone, dangling from one gloved hand like a talisman, has silver glitter and blue sequins to represent snow – like a glass one she saw on the TV – and has a length of silver ribbon that she tied around the top of it herself so it can hang on the tree. The other children needed the teacher to do it for them.

As she tears her gaze away, she notices an older couple all smiles as they wave at her, and suddenly it feels like she’s walking in treacle. The Wrights are nice. She has to repeat it to herself. Mrs Wright wears a woolly hat shaped like a Christmas pudding, complete with knitted holly leaves and two red pom-poms for the berries, and Mr Wright’s puffer jacket is unzipped over a green jumper decorated with snowflakes and reindeer.

“Where’s Mum?” she asks when she reaches them, although the answer doesn’t really matter beyond the obvious.

“We’re sorry, Leah.” Mrs Wright shakes her head. “Your mum tried to get back in time, but you know work keeps her very busy. She should be here tomorrow, and in the meantime, we can have a sleepover! I need your big strong arms to help me stir the Christmas cake.”

“Did you enjoy your last day at school?” Mr Wright asks.

She shrugs one shoulder, her eyes on a robin foraging for worms under the nearby hedge. There’s one in her garden that will come so close that she can sit next to it while it gobbles up the bacon fat she cuts into tiny pieces and sets on the wall, but she hasn’t yet persuaded it to eat out of her palm.

Mr Wright tries again and points to her hand. “What’s that you’ve got there?”

She stuffs the pinecone into her pocket. “Nothing.”

“Ah, well. Let’s get you home to pick up your night bag, and then we’ll get the magic started.”

“We haven’t put up our decorations yet, you know,” Mrs Wright adds. “Would you like to help?”

She shrugs again. “S’pose.”

When they get to her house, she sneaks away and puts the pinecone on the kitchen counter, balanced on its end with the glitteriest side towards the door so her mother will see it when she comes in.

She’s thirteen. Dusty, cold, but pleased with herself. She’s spent the day scouring the house, teetering on the ladder up to the loft and digging through the junk in the garage, and now there are three boxes lumped on the living room carpet. They read ‘XDecs’ in unfamiliar handwriting, and they’re so old that the tape on the edges is starting to disintegrate, but she found them.

She unboxes the tree first, brushes the dust off the plastic branches and works out how the pieces fit together, then fishes about for lights and tinsel. The longest garland she takes to wrap around the stair banister, the second longest drapes over the mantle, and then – through trial and error and a lot of sideways squinting to make sure it looks right – she daubs the tree with ornaments in what she hopes is a tasteful array of festive cheer. The pinecone she made when she was little isn’t among the baubles, but it doesn’t matter. It probably would have spoiled the aesthetic anyway.

There’s just enough time to clear away the empty boxes and vacuum stray bits of tinsel of the floor before an engine growls to a stop on the slushy driveway.

“Leah?” her mother’s voice calls from the back of the house.

“In here!”

She stands in the middle of the room with fists bunched, waiting for the big reveal. The crisp click of her mother’s high heels slow as they reach the hall. When she appears in the doorway, her face is drawn into a frown as she watches her daughter sidestep awkwardly to one side with a vague gesture to the lit-up Christmas tree.

“Surprise!”

A pause.

“Where did you get all this?” her mother asks.

She shifts under the scrutiny. “… Found it.”

“Where?” When there’s no answer, her mother sighs. “From the loft? Leah, you know you’re not allowed up there. It’s dangerous. What if something had happened?”

“Well it didn’t,” she counters. “And I knew you wouldn’t have time to decorate, so I thought…”

She scuttles backwards as her mother strides into the room, glancing to the tree and back again as if it’s an unruly pet one accident away from being sent to the rescue shelter. The critical eye her mother casts over the decorations makes her sullen, but there’s something else there as well, a wistfulness as a slow hand reaches up to cup a sphere of clouded blue glass etched with the words Baby’s First Christmas in elegant gold cursive.

“It’s very… thoughtful.” Her mother sighs again and drops the memory. “It’s been a long day, and there’s shopping in the car. I need a shower – can you fetch it in?”

“I guess.”

Her mother gives a prim nod of acknowledgement and slides from the room like snow off an overladen branch, only to pause in the doorway. “Don’t forget, you’re going to the Wrights tomorrow, so make sure you have everything ready – and make sure all of this is unplugged so there’s not an accident. Those lights are far too old to be safe.”

She deflates, and doesn’t bother to answer, and after a moment lunges for the socket to cut off the lurid glitter of the Christmas lights.

She’s nineteen, and ignoring half-drunk texts from her friends asking why she isn’t at the campus party. She’d turn her phone off completely if not for the unlikely case of an emergency, but she’s not even bothering to open the messages anymore. Instead, she hunkers down in the armchair, annoyed to find that the hot chocolate at her elbow hasn’t magically refilled itself. She’ll have to buy another one soon or the café owner might throw her out. She decides it can wait until the end of the chapter she’s reading.

“No way – Leah?”

She looks up. The boy smiling at her is in her class. He’s handsome in a roguish sort of way, but they’ve never really talked.

“Couldn’t be bothered with the party?” he asks. “Shame. I hear WelSoc managed to get a boost for the budget.”

“Why aren’t you there, then?” she retorts, confused. She doesn’t hear about the antics of the Welfare Society – the university’s main student organisation – all that often, and she would have thought Bobby would have been there to report on it for the student newspaper if nothing else.

He shrugs and flops down in the armchair on the opposite side of the table. “I might go later. It’s always more fun to be fashionably late. Besides, by that point people will be nice and drunk and happy to spill all their secrets.”

“What secrets?”

“Oh, you know, gossip and stuff. Why aren’t you there?”

“I’m not really a Christmas person,” she answers, turning back to her book.

“Oh?”

“It feels like wasted effort most of the time.”

To her surprise, he smiles. “I’ve never looked at it that way, but you have a point. All that excess just to roll around with indigestion for a week.”

“Putting up decorations just to take them down again,” she agrees, wrinkling her nose. “And most of them are tacky anyway.”

“Ah, you’re a woman of taste, then.”

She doesn’t quite know how to respond to that, but he waves her away with a private laugh and jumps to his feet.

“I’ll not inflict my presence on you any longer, in that case, but if you do decide to go to the party I hope you’ll say hello.” He winks. “Merry Christmas.”

“Oh, yeah – Merry Christmas.”

Still confused, she watches him saunter back outside, only pausing briefly to pick up something from the barista before the clipped view from the café window cuts off the sight of him. A little while later, when she gets up for another hot chocolate to go with her book, the woman smiles and waves away her bank card.

“That guy you were talking to already paid,” she explains.

“What do you mean?”

“He paid for your drink – it’s on the house.”

She snaps her gaze to the window, as if Bobby might be standing there staring in, with a big sign informing her that it’s an elaborate prank. But all she can see are the indifferent shadows of passing shoppers hurrying about in the last of the daylight, wrapped up in their own concerns.

“Oh,” she says, and smiles at the barista because it’s polite, and takes the hot chocolate back to the rest of her things.

She’s twenty-six and alone in her apartment. Tina thinks she’s with the Wrights, and she told them she’s celebrating with Tina. She hasn’t even needed to invent an excuse to fob off Rebecca. In front of her is a spread of ingredients for homemade tacos, and a stack of DVDs that are old favourites. There’s not a bough of holly or the twinkle of a fairy light in sight.

She decides that she’s content.

She’s thirty-one. Staring at the monstrous fir Felix has somehow managed to sneak into the warehouse.

“How did you even get it in here?” she blurts. She has to crane her neck upwards to take in the full might of the thing.

“I didn’t,” Felix replies, proud. “I got some delivery people to do it while we were out – for the extra surprise factor.”

The rest of Unit Bravo sidle forward, as awed by the presence of the tree as she is, though the levels of enthusiasm vary.

“I thought we could decorate it together,” he continues, flinging open the first of several boxes that have been left at the foot of the tree, “you know, since we get so little time to do things as a family.”

That appears to be the magic word. Adam answers Mason’s pleading look with a minute shake of his head, and Nate is already striding forward to help unpack the ornaments. It leaves her with an uncomfortable itch between her shoulder blades, as if she’s suddenly wearing clothes that belong to someone else. Years of memories come bubbling up like rising damp under paint, phantom emotions she’s tried for so many years to bury and which now burrow so easily through her flesh.

“Leah?” Nate asks, with his hands curled around a string of coloured glass beads.

She smiles. It feels wooden. “Are you sure we can reach the whole way up?”

“I’m sure we’ll manage with us all working together,” he says, and beckons her to his side with a chaste kiss to her cheek.

Felix has already draped a length of tinsel around his neck like it’s a feather boa, and grins wide as he turns to her. “Where do we start? I bet you’ve had loads of practice.”

It stings.

“Put the lights up the centre of the tree,” she suggests, grateful for Nate’s touch. “That way they’ll reflect off the baubles.”

“Great!”

The vampires take to their task rather well. The military precision with which Adam lays the lights is matched by the haphazard way that Mason – obviously unhappy with the glow – drapes the outer branches in tinsel to hide as much of it as possible. Nate, meanwhile, is trying to bring a bit of coordination to the chaos that is Felix’s method of flinging baubles on the tree with no care for size or colour.

“But it’s festive,” the younger vampire protests, as a shiny green chilli pepper is swapped with a more tasteful globe of frosted golden glass.

“I just think it will look better up here, because it’s smaller.”

“You mean because it’s somewhere I can’t reach to move it somewhere more fun. I can get a stepladder, you know.”

She smiles at that, content to watch the banter. The variety of ornaments that have been procured cover a dizzying array of styles, from traditional to psychedelic to things like the chilli pepper that she knows Felix bought because he found them amusing. It’s not quite the same as the Wrights’ collection, which they’d once told her had been built up over years gathering trinkets on holiday or been gifted from friends and family, but the effect is similar.

“Leah, you agree with me, don’t you?” Nate pleads, his eyes wide and helpless.

She smiles. “A little disorder gives it personality, don’t you think?”

“But…”

“Ooooh I think that counts as a top ten anime betrayal,” Felix cackles.

“What’s anime?”

“Never you mind,” comes the haughty reply as the younger vampire holds out his hand. “I’ll be taking my pepper back now, thank you.”

There’s a groan as Nate passes it over, and she gets the feeling his defeat is not as final as he’s pretending, but before she can voice the suspicion, he comes to fold his long legs down next to her on the carpet.

“You haven’t put anything on the tree yet,” he notes, brushing a loose strand of hair back from her face.

She shrugs. The ornament turning in her hands is a tiny wooden reindeer with a bell around its neck. It’s not sparkly like the one when she was three, but it’s similar enough for a wave of guilt to wash over her for all the years she turned down the invitation from the Wrights because she didn’t want to be reminded of that pitied, unwanted little kid who was once dropped on their doorstep.

“Hey…”

“I’m not a big Christmas person,” she murmurs, though she knows the other vampires could easily listen in if they choose to. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I have horrible memories, but part of me always felt left out of that holiday magic, you know?”

With the Christmas tree lights reflecting off the sympathy in his brown eyes, he curls a gentle hand around hers and lifts her knuckles to his lips. “I’m sorry your past experiences weren’t what they should have been… though I hope you don’t feel left out now?”

It’s impossible to feel anything but dizzy with him so close, and yet as her gaze falls to his lips she wants nothing more than to be closer still.

“I’ve never felt more at home,” she tells him, smiling at the way confession makes his breath stutter.

The pad of his thumb brushes her cheek.

“You have no idea how much it delights me to – what are you doing?”

He pulls away to frown at Felix, who snuck up from behind to stretch out a bunch of mistletoe above their heads, the white berries and green foliage made richer by a ribbon of deep maroon.

“It’s Christmas,” the younger vampire explains. “Kissing under mistletoe is tradition.”

“You really think they need mistletoe to be going at it?” Mason calls from the other side of the room.

“Is that sort of language really necessary?” Nate demands.

“Not denying it though, are you?”

Mortified, he rubs a hand across his brow, and though her own cheeks are surely crimson by now, she keeps her fingers tangled into his to make sure he won’t pull away for good.

“You were so close you were practically on top of each other,” Felix offers, though whether he’s trying to be helpful or embarrass them both further is difficult to say.

“I was merely…” Nate clears his throat, tries again. “Why don’t you finish decorating the tree?”

Felix rolls his eyes, discarding the mistletoe on the sofa as he goes. The moment of heat has passed, but with attention gradually sliding off them, Nate inches close enough to wrap an arm around her waist. She snuggles into his side, ear over his heart, content to soak in the atmosphere of the room. Crackling fire, twinkling lights, and the good-natured bickering between Mason and Felix. She can feel Nate wince with every tacky bauble added to the tree, but torn as he is between protecting his décor and keeping her company, not even the glittery unicorn with the neon-pink mane and glowing horn stirs him to fully intervene, and she presses a kiss to the back of his hand to show her sympathy.

It's later, when the fire has burned down to embers and even the wind outside has fallen quiet, that she approaches the tree with the little wooden reindeer. There’s no ribbon loop to hang it on a branch, but she finds a bare spot in between a garish purple raspberry and an intricate crystal snowflake, and jams its legs on either side of the stem, like it’s leaping through a forest.

“It looks good there,” Nate murmurs, coming to stand at her back. He presses a kiss to the top of her head as his arms wind around her waist. “Are you sure I can’t just –”

“I’ll tell Adam it was you,” she warns. “Is it worth it for the wounded, puppy-dog look Felix will give you when he notices you’ve moved them?”

A sigh heaves through him that ruffles her hair. “For you, I suppose I can live with it, but I may have to stage a disappearing act in time for next year.”

“Even for the unicorn?”

“Especially for the unicorn.”

Chuckling, she turns in his arms. “It sounds like you could use a distraction.”

“What did you have in mind?” he asks, though with the way his voice lowers and his fingertips toy with the hem of her shirt, he already has some ideas of his own.

She licks her lips. His own part in response.

Instead of indulging him, however, she dodges the kiss and steps around him to where the mistletoe lies in a crumpled heap on the sofa. The room is warm, the lights in the Christmas tree like the glitter of a galaxy in the void of space, the weight of his gaze heavy enough to send a shiver across her shoulders as she plucks up the greenery with nimble fingers.

#the wayhaven chronicles #twc holiday magic #nate sewell #twc detective #unit bravo #n sewell #nate sewell x detective #detective leah kingston

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