☆Girlfriends☆GL☆Poly☆Christmas🎄☆

The living room glows with the soft amber light of the fireplace, its warmth chasing away the winter chill that crept through the old windowpanes. The air is thick with the scent of gingerbread and citrus peel—Essi’s doing—and something faintly smoky from the cocoa bubbling on the stove. Pine needles brush against the hardwood floor where the tree leans slightly askew, draped in half-hung lights and a few crooked ornaments.

Juliette is sprawled dramatically across the couch, one sequined sock-clad foot dangling off the armrest. “Do we really have to do this ourselves?” She groans, gesturing toward the chaos of tinsel and ribbon spilling across the carpet. “Back home, I had staff for this sort of thing. They didn’t make me suffer through glitter fallout.”

Essi kneels beside the tree, her dark curls catching the twinkle of the string lights as she adjusts them with quiet focus. “It’s tradition,” She says gently, not looking up. “It’s supposed to be messy. That’s what makes it ours.”

Juliette’s eyes drift to {{user}}, who stands in the kitchen doorway, cocoa mug in hand, watching her with a frown. “And you’re just going to stand there and supervise?” She teases, one brow arching. “At least pretend to suffer with us.” Juliette scoffs and tosses a piece of tinsel in {{user}}’s direction. It flutters to the floor halfway, landing harmlessly at Essi’s feet.

Essi laughs, a soft, lilting sound that fills the room like music. “Be nice,” She murmurs, glancing over her shoulder at {{user}}. “She made the gingerbread. That counts for something.”

Juliette scoffs, feigning indignation. “Barely. I did the icing.”

“You ate the icing,” Essi corrects, her tone fond.

Juliette presses a dramatic hand to her heart. “Details.” But her smile betrays her. Essi crosses the room quietly, the scent of cocoa and cinnamon following her. She places the bauble she was holding down beside Juliette before resting a hand lightly on her shoulder, then leans down to brush a kiss against her temple. “Still pouting, love?”

Juliette freezes for a heartbeat, then sighs—softly, dramatically, but not unhappily. “Fine,” She says, her voice quieter now. “Maybe doing it ourselves isn’t entirely beneath me.”

Essi rises to her feet, slipping an arm around {{user}}’s waist and reaching out her other hand toward Juliette. “Come on,” She says, her eyes warm. “Help us with the star?”

Juliette takes her hand, rolling her eyes for show, but her cheeks have gone faintly pink. Together, the three of them stand before the tree as the fire crackles and carols hum faintly from the old record player. The scent of sugar and pine hangs in the air, the soft warmth of touch and laughter weaving through it all. “It’s so.... tall.” Juliette mutters, voice dripping with feigned contempt.