Final Fantasy Ugly Sweater Novels & Stories

“Name it.” “Where are my clothes?” “Ah, yes. Clothes.” He tilted his head at her, gave her a sexy, dirty smile. “You don’t actually have any.” “I – what?” “Yeah. No. Your jeans were ripped to shreds by a mountain lion, as you may well recall, and your sweater was soaked through when you were sweating out the fever. You can wash it, if you want, but it’ll take hours to dry.” He paused. “And really, do you want to wear a sweaty sweater? Like, ever again?”

“Manager gave me a final warning. Said if I’m late one more time, I’m fired.” Susie pulled me into a tight hug. “I’m sorry, babe. That’s so unfair.” She pulled back and gave me a small, teasing smile. “But… at least your favorite person in the world came to see you today, right?” Despite everything, a tiny, warm flutter returned to my chest. I bit my lip and nodded, still touching the necklace around my neck. “Yeah… he did.”

The two little heads turned. Still, neither of them let go of Zach. “Mommy!” Max shouted, far too happy for a child who, fifteen minutes ago, had nearly sued Barbie for emotional pollution. “It’s Mr. Shiny Sweater!” Issa nodded quickly. “He used to be Mr. Shiny Suit, but now he’s more casual. Still shiny, just more down-to-earth.” “Shiny earth,” Max added, pleased with his contribution. I walked closer with the cart in front of me, one hand still holding the butcher counter number that now had no spiritual meaning whatsoever.

I’d never expected our reunion to go well, but this… this was a disaster. Alaric clenched his jaw, the muscle ticking as he finally spoke. "This suit is one-of-a-kind," his voice was flat, dangerously calm. "Made of a rare fabric-specifically tailored to me." He scoffed, his gaze still holding mine, chilling me to the bone. "It costs more than you’re worth. “How much?” Amanda pressed in irritation. “Five-hundred thousand. At least,” he said. My jaw dropped, and my heart skipped a beat and then went into overdrive. Half a million dollars?

Not my problem as they weren’t in my continent and anywhere near my territory. I’m not the monster the world paints me out to be. I mean look at Fai, as unbearable as the asshole is now that he has found his mate and became a women’s rights activist. I didn’t feel the sudden urge to end him, even knowing he was a werewolf. He is not the worst of them. “So, will you finally say what is on your mind or do you want to see just how long it takes me to lose my patience?” Killian asked, his face looking like it always did, but he was amused. Literally fighting to hold back his smile.

And also because I really don't want to drag him into all this mess. So I just flip the topic. "This fridge is drier than the desert." Seven chuckles. "Mine is the desert itself!" I grin broadly. "Does that mean you're my date to the supermarket?" 🛒🛒🛒🛒🛒🛒🛒 "Sweatpants were made to look lazy and ugly on girls," says Seven. "But you rock on them like some famous supermodel on the runway." The sweatpants look ugly and buggy on me.

Freya hands me a pair of purple leggings, sneakers and an oversize Christmas sweater that had a Lama on the front wearing a Santa hat and sunglasses. I scowl at the sweater, “What is with all the ugly sweaters?” I look around and even the kids are wearing questionable items. Nothing inappropriate, just… funny, weird and ugly. “Oh, Rocco is the one who provides the clothes, and he thinks they are funny.” She shrugs as she pops a grape into her mouth. “Who?” I don’t remember anyone named Rocco from my memories of the lab. I slip into the leggings and sweater instantly feeling much warmer from the long simple t-shirt I was wearing previously.

He scribbled down the street name, the number on the gate, and a quick sketch of the entrance. As he was doing this, he heard a laughter toward him. He glanced up, and a group of kids; three boys and a girl, were walking along the sidewalk, heading his way. The boy in front was wearing a bright blue sweater that was made with skill. “Man, that sweater is fire,” one of his friends said, pointing at it. The boy grinned proudly and tugged at the sleeve. “Sylvania Scarlet made it. She’s the best, and she lives right there,” he said, nodding toward the same building Sylvania had entered.

Azren goes very still behind me. Oh? Oh, this is interesting. I turn around, holding it up. It's a sweater. A soft, cozy, V-neck knit that's almost... net-like? Slightly loose and airy. And across the front in ridiculous cursive lettering are the words: "SOFT BOYS DESERVE FLOWERS." I blink. Then I look at Azren. He looks like someone just pulled a loaded weapon on him. "No," he says immediately. I grin slowly. "Oh yes."