#also christmas angst

[schmooplesboop]

Perfect Gift

Pairing(s): Clive X Gav, Byron X Eugen, Joshua X ???

Ratings and warnings: Teen, bc there's implied sexy times

My brain has the Big Sad right now so I wrote some Christmas schmoop to cheer myself up. Hope y'all enjoy :)

---

Byron was all in a dither today. Truth be told, he’d been in a dither for the last two weeks, ever since he and Eugen decided to spend Yule together… and introduce their families to each other.

Eugen was bringing his sister and her children, all of whom Byron knew well. He’d been friends with Eudora for some time before she’d introduced him to Eugen all those years ago. They’d remained friends even after young Byron and Eugen had drifted apart, and Eudora and her children had spent many summers in Port Isolde over the years. Byron had invited his nephews, Gav, and Jill, none of whom Eugen knew.

Usually, his Yule parties were loud, noisy, and very crowded affairs with every available friend, colleague, and even some rivals invited. This year’s would be small and quiet, he and Eugen deciding that a more subdued party would be the best setting for everyone to get to know each other.

Byron fussed with the decorations on one of the many Yule trees dotted around the parlor for around the one hundredth time. Usually, these things didn’t bother him, but this was his first Yule with his own family in over two decades and his first Yule with Eugen ever. He wanted everything to be… not perfect, but wonderful, at least.

He probably would’ve driven himself, Rutherford, and the rest of his staff to drink ages ago if Joshua, Clive, Gav, and Torgal hadn’t arrived half a week early to help. Joshua and Torgal kept him distracted, his nephew with conversation, Torgal with demands for scratches behind the ears and rubs for his belly. And though Jill couldn’t attend the Yule celebrations, as she was spending her holiday with her brother and his husband, she also helped distract Byron in her own way. She’d sent a lovely letter and an even lovelier wine, which Byron finished off within a few days. At the manor, Clive assisted Rutherford in ironing out all the little details, and Gav was helping with the ongoing effort to decorate the estate.

And when Byron discovered that the boar he’d procured, the centerpiece of the feast, had spoiled, it’d also been Gav who’d vanished into the forest outside Port Isolde with Torgal in tow, returning nearly eight hours later, both of them splattered in blood and Gav dragging the largest boar Byron had ever seen on a sledge behind him. Even offered to butcher it if the kitchen staff proved too squeamish to do it.

“Hope you’re planning to hold onto that one,” he’d muttered to his nephew as they watched Gav pulling his sledge across the main yard, making Clive’s cheeks turn pink.

“For as long as he’ll have me, Uncle.” Clive muttered back as Gav waved at them enthusiastically, a grin on his bloody face.

Byron flitted from the Yule tree to the fireplace, arranging and rearranging and re-rearranging the festive statues of snow moogles on the mantle. Tomorrow evening. Twenty-four short hours before the Yule celebration, even less before Eugen and his family would arrive. He bustled out of the parlor to make sure the guest rooms were still in order.

❆ ❆ ❆

Despite the dusting of snow they were getting, the main marketplace in Port Isolde was packed with people. Joshua rubbed his cold, gloved hands together and shook the snow from his hair before pulling the hood of his cloak up. He followed along as Clive darted from stall to stall, reminding him very much of their dear uncle. His brother was frantically looking for a Yule gift for Gav.

He hadn’t forgotten, in fact Clive had already bought four different gifts for Gav before they even left for Port Isolde, stashing them all in Byron’s bedchamber after they’d arrived. Now it seemed he was going to buy four more, or perhaps the whole market.

“After everything we’ve survived, you’re going to fret yourself into an early grave, brother.” He teased lightly.

Clive shot him a dark look then hurried to another stall, scrutinizing their wares so intensely the poor vendor started to look concerned, as though Clive was going to wreck the stall or steal everything.

“It has to be perfect. It has to show him how I feel…”

Joshua gave his brother a smile that was both incredulous and amused, “Right, because Gav has no idea how you feel about him. You’ve only told him that you love him, gave him grandfather’s ring to wear, made eyes at him the entire time we were journeying to Port Isolde—”

Clive shot him another look and Joshua raised his hands in mock surrender, holding in laughter. He supposed he could understand why Clive was worked up. They all sorely needed this brief moment of respite, wanting it to go smoothly wasn’t unreasonable. Though he still thought his brother was placing too large a burden on himself. He could give Gav an apple for Yule and the man would love it simply because it was a gift from Clive.

And it isn’t as though the perfect gift even exis—oh. His eye fell on a rather handsome set of silver hairbrushes. Well. Never mind. Those would be perfect for—

“Phoenix’s flaming ass!” Clive exclaimed in frustration before turning a sheepish smile on him. “Sorry, that’s one of Gav’s more innovative curses. He must be rubbing off on me.”

Joshua picked up the hairbrushes, handing some gil over to the vendor. “Better my flaming ass than Ifrit’s bountiful bosom.”

Clive snorted out a laugh, all apprehension over finding a gift momentarily forgotten, “Gav did not say that.”

“Oh, he absolutely did. Granted, he was intoxicated at the time, but he did indeed say it.”

His brother sighed fondly, “I love that man.”

❆ ❆ ❆

Byron had seen Clive and Joshua coming down the lane from his bedroom window, returning from the marketplace no doubt, and went down to the kitchen to make some hot cocoa. It was snowing steadily now and his nephews were likely to be damp and cold.

He’d just finished arranging four wooden mugs of steaming hot cocoa and a plate of cookies on a tray when he heard Torgal barking a happy greeting to Clive and Joshua. He picked the tray up and walked down the hall, peeking into the entrance hall.

Both of his nephews were covered in a powdering of snow. Joshua was looking excited, carrying a set of silver hairbrushes tucked under his arm. Poor Clive looked wet and beleaguered. Byron smiled softly. He had a hunch what was bothering his oldest nephew and had just the solution.

“Welcome back, you two!” He called, holding up the tray as he entered the foyer. “Care to join me for a nosh?”

“We’d be delighted, uncle,” Joshua said brightly as he and Clive removed their cloaks and boots.

Byron held the tray out to Joshua, “Could you take this to the parlor please? Oh, and coax Gav out of the library while you’re passing by, he’s been decorating all afternoon. Clive, could you come with me for a moment? I need you for something.”

Clive nodded distractedly; Byron wouldn’t be surprised if his nephew hadn’t heard a single word he said.

Joshua went off with the tray of goodies and his mission to lure Gav away from his work. Torgal followed closely at Joshua’s heels, likely with his own mission to acquire some cookies. Byron led Clive upstairs to his bedchamber.

He gestured vaguely at the cushy chair in the corner of the room, “Have a seat, my boy. This won’t take long.”

Clive sat, still looking like a lost, sad puppy and Byron dug through his wardrobe, “Having trouble finding a suitable gift for Gav?” He asked as he rifled through his clothes.

That got Clive’s attention, head snapping up as Byron found what he’d been looking for and walked over to him with a bundle in his arms.

“Might I make a suggestion?” When Clive nodded, he placed a fine outdoor cloak, thick black leather and lined with dark silver fur, in his lap. This was one of the many gifts Clive had already bought for Gav and hid in his room upon arriving. It’d sparked this idea the moment he saw it, “I think you should give him this. And… this as well.”

He set a heavy, metal cloak pin on Clive’s knee. It’d been forged in the symbol of his, Byron’s, house. He’d given similar ones to Clive and Joshua nearly the moment after finding out that they still lived. The only difference was this pin was the first one he ever had forged when he had the money to do so. It’d been a little personal celebration… and a thumb of his nose to Father, he’d made his house’s symbol as flamboyant as possible. This particular pin was of great significance to him.

Clive must’ve had an inkling of this, because he looked up at him uncertainly. “Uncle, are you sure?”

He waved an airy hand, “Of course I am, my boy! Let him know he’s part of this family. That’s what you’ve really been fretting about since you got here, is it not?” Byron bounced on the balls of his feet, proud of himself. “I can be observant when I really put my mind to it, you know.”

Byron started a bit as Clive’s arms wrapped around his waist, hugging him tightly. “Thank-you, Uncle Byron. For everything.”

Byron laughed too, patting his nephew on the head. “It’s the least I could do.”

❆ ❆ ❆

Yule was here and the estate was nearly decorated from top to bottom, only a few last-minute touches were needed here and there. Gav was helping the house staff hang clusters of winterberry in nearly every important entranceway, standing on tiptoe atop a slightly rickety wooden stool, tongue pinched between his teeth. He knew how bizarre this would look to Port Isolde’s fancy folk, doing menial tasks, but the thought of just sitting back and letting people wait on him, and do all the work, turned his stomach. He would be as tightly wound as Byron.

Frankly, he only felt truly at ease when he was with Clive and when he'd been out in forest boar hunting. That’d brought back memories of his childhood Yules, waking before the sun was even a peek on the horizon and going hunting with his father for the Yule dinner he and his older brothers would help their mother cook later.

The winterberry, bunches of green frilly leaves and berries like large fat pearls, was tied into a little bouquet with a length of golden twine. He finally got the loop knotted at one end of the twine over the hook suspended overhead, hanging up the last winterberry. He was gazing up at it, making sure it didn’t look crooked, when he felt a familiar hand paw at the curve of his ass before squeezing firmly.

“Clive,” He scolded, failing spectacularly at keeping the smile off his lips and the laughter out of his voice, “That isn’t what you do under the winterberry.”

“Oh?” Clive’s innocent tone was belied by the sly smirk on his face. “It’s been a long time since I’ve celebrated Yule. My memory needs to be refreshed…”

Gav hummed out a quiet laugh, nimbly hopping down from the stool. “Well, first you get beneath it with someone…”

Clive’s hands settled on his hips, pulling him forward a bit so they were both squarely under the little hanging plant. “Done. And then what?”

He traced his fingers lightly over Clive’s jawline before cupping his face, “Then, you plant one on ‘em.”

Gav leaned in, kissing Clive soft and slow and thorough, with a flick of cheeky tongue to cap it off.

Clive’s hands squeezed his hips when he made to draw back, “Show me that last part again, Gav…”

There was a tiny, awkward cough and a high voice interrupted them, “U-um. Sorry, excuse me.” One of Byron’s housekeepers had come up on them as quiet as a mouse, cheeks pink and eyes darting everywhere except in their direction. “Lord Rosfield. Sir Gav. Lord Byron’s guests are coming down the lane. He wishes for you all to greet them in the main yard.”

Clive’s face had gone a brilliant shade of red, amusing Gav to no end. Here was the man who’d been so boldly grabbing his ass just a few minutes ago, blushing like a shy lad about to slip into his First Night bed.

“Thank-you,” he said to the housekeeper, as Clive seemed to have lost his tongue. “We’ll be along right quick.”

The housekeeper gave a nod and hurried off. Alone once more, Gav quickly covered Clive’s warm, flushed face with kisses.

“Memory chugging along yet?” He asked with a grin.

Plainly recovered from his embarrassment, Clive’s arms wrapped tight around his waist, “Getting there. Perhaps just once more…”

❆ ❆ ❆

His palms were sweating. Eugen and his family were still a ways away, but Byron surreptitiously wiped his hands on his trousers. Joshua, Clive, and Gav stood with him, all of them looking on with interest. Torgal was the only one who seemed bored with their approaching guests, having a nap curled up in the newly fallen snow.

Eugen and his nephew reached them first, mounted on massive brown-feathered chocobos. His sister and twin nieces were a little ways back, concealed inside a carriage being pulled by two more chocobos and steered by one of Eugen’s men. A handful of Eugen’s soldiers walked behind the carriage; the roads weren’t safe for travelers these days.

“Eugen!” Byron raised his arms then paused, not entirely sure how Eugen would want to be greeted. He was rather passionate when they were alone, but with their families looking on…

Thankfully, he didn’t have to decide what to do. Eugen approached him, hugged him, and kissed his cheek.

“Byron, you old bastard, I missed you.”

Byron laughed, that was the man he loved alright. “And I missed you, Eugen. I was buzzing like a frantic bee all over the manor this morning.” He gestured to the trio beside him, “Allow me to introduce you—”

It really wasn’t necessary for him to do this, most of Valisthea and certainly all of Rosaria knew these three by now, Clive and Joshua especially, but Byron wanted this evening to be a little slice of normalcy for them. They’d earned—no, they deserved it.

“—These are my nephews, Clive and Joshua Rosfield. And this is Clive’s companion, Gav.”

Clive promptly made sure they understood what sort of companion Byron was talking about by twining his fingers with Gav’s. Byron smiled a little.

Eugen shook each of their hands. “Eugen Havel. Enchanted to finally meet you, boys. Although I think I met you once when you were just a babe,” he said to Clive. “I doubt you remember that, though.”

“Not at all, sir,” Clive replied. “I’m delighted to meet you again all the same.”

Eugen chuckled then looked at Gav, “No second name?”

The lad’s cheeks went a little red, “Common born, sir. We don’t have those. ‘M just Gav from Snowbird Hollow.”

“Ah, the North.”

“Aye.”

Clive was frowning, giving Eugen the eye, like he wasn’t sure if Eugen was judging Gav or not. Byron didn’t blame him. Clive didn’t know Eugen. The man could be brusque but he was far from a snob, just endlessly curious.

The slightly sticky moment passed as the rest of Eugen’s party strolled in through the gate. Both Joshua and Clive tensed slightly when Eugen’s sister emerged from the carriage and Byron immediately understood why. She wore a Yule dress very like the ones their mother once favored and had her hair styled similarly as well.

But Byron knew this woman well and there was no one further from Anabella Rosfield than her. Plump, soft, and round where Anabella was all razor thin sharpness and bony angles. Dark where Anabella was fair. Kind where Anabella was cruel.

She didn’t wait for her brother to make introductions.

“Byron!” She thew her arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug that smelled of powdered sugar and vanilla. “It’s been so long, old friend! I’ve missed you so!” She cast a kind eye over the other three, Clive and Joshua both visibly relaxing. “I’m Eugen’s sister, Eudora. Charmed to meet you, gentlemen!”

“I’ve missed you too, Eudora!” Byron laughed as his nephews and Gav murmured their own polite greetings.

The woman released Byron and grabbed her son by the elbow, pulling him forward so vigorously the poor lad nearly tripped, “This is my son Kasir.”

Kasir was near Joshua’s age, if Byron remembered correctly, perhaps a year younger. Handsome and tall, he had his mother’s golden-brown skin, but his amber eyes were his father’s, Eudora’s first husband.

Kasir had his mother’s charming, roguish smile though, “Enchanted.”

“And these are my twin daughters, Chiara and Melia.”

She brought the sisters forward. The twins would be twenty-two now… again, if his memory wasn’t misleading him. Their father was Eudora’s second husband. Eudora insisted that they could be differentiated, but Byron hadn’t been able to yet. Their skin was a shade lighter than their mother’s, but they had her dark eyes and hair, though their curls were free of the silver strands starting to creep their way into Eudora’s. The twins wore perfectly matching traveler’s dresses and had perfectly matching hairstyles. Byron inwardly shrugged. He still couldn’t tell them apart.

“I call them Chaos and Menace.” Kasir said with his roguish grin, making his sisters squawk in protest.

Byron silently agreed, lips twitching as he suppressed a smile. No one had been safe from the twins and their pranks when they were children. When they’d stayed at the manor one long ago summer Byron finally had to scold them for driving poor Rutherford around the bend.

“Well, isn’t this one pretty,” Chiara murmured as Joshua kissed the back of her hand.

“This one isn’t so bad either,” Melia added, eyeing Clive up and down. Gav seemed amused rather than annoyed by this.

Eudora’s sigh was both loving and long-suffering, “Where are your manners, young ladies? We’re guests here. Behave like it.”

“Told you. Chaos and Menace,” Kasir laughed.

The twins gave perfectly matching long-suffering sighs of their own and curtsied.

“Pleased to meet you all.” They chimed out in unison.

“I hope I’m dressed appropriately,” Eudora said to Byron as she smoothed her hands down the front of her dress. “I got this from that shop you recommended. I bought Yule clothes for my children too, but they’ve refused to wear them until dinner.”

Yule wasn’t widely celebrated in Dhalmekia. Eugen had been to Yule parties thrown by associates and friends before, but this would be a first-time celebration for Eudora and her brood.

“You look resplendent as always, Eudora.”

“Oh, Byron, stop,” She cackled, playfully smacking him on the arm. “My brother is right there. What will he think of you flirting with me?”

“He’ll think that you two haven’t changed a lick in the last thirty years.” Eugen said dryly, making both Byron and Eudora cackle this time. “Shall we head inside?”

“Hold on a moment, dearest Uncle. I’ve been reading all about Yule on the journey here.” Chiara said, dark eyes glittering with a cheerful mischief Byron was all too familiar with. “Is it true that once the families come together the younger generation has a mock battle with snowballs?”

“That custom is usually reserved for young children.” Eugen replied. “But I’ve no issue with you partaking if our host doesn’t.”

“None at all!” Byron said jovially.

Chiara clapped her hands in glee, looking over at his nephews and Gav. “You three game?”

Kasir gave his sister a withering look, “Seriously?”

“Oh, big brother,” Melia sighed, bending down to scoop up some snow. “Where is your sense of wonder?”

“Ah hell, why not. I’m in.” Gav said with a shrug.

Joshua still looked uncertain, but Clive nodded, which surprised Byron not at all. If Gav was in, Clive was in.

“This is ridiculous,” Kasir muttered, still bending down to cup some snow in his gloved hands.

Byron didn’t see who threw the first snowball, but it hit Kasir square in the face. And just like that, the years melted away before Byron’s eyes. They were no longer a group of world-weary adults, but totally unrestrained youth.

Gav and the twins took off running, laughing wildly as they pelted each other with snowballs and tossed a few more Kasir’s way.

“Oh… it’s on,” Kasir spat out a mouthful of snow and chased after them, aiming a snowball at the back of Gav’s head.

Clive immediately charged off to defend his love, shaping a snowball the size of a pumpkin in his large hands. Torgal, awakened from his nap, charged into the fray too, yipping like a puppy and tail wagging madly. With a kind of resigned anxiety on his face, Joshua followed along to make sure no one died by snowball.

“Well,” Byron grinned, watching Clive dunk his massive snowball on Kasir’s head before he could hit Gav. “Shall we leave them to it and have a pre-dinner drink in the parlor?”

Eugen and Eudora did an inadvertent but spot-on impression of the twins, answering in unison, “Excellent idea.”

❆ ❆ ❆

“Don’t laugh,” Gav’s voice said from behind the changing screen.

Dinner would be served soon, and the Yule party would follow immediately after. Clive and Gav were in the guest room they shared, changing into what Gav called their “Lord Fancy Pants outfits.” Soon after they’d first arrived at the manor, they’d spent an uncomfortable afternoon allowing Byron’s tailor to measure them for their Yule clothes. Clive could tell that Gav hated the whole process, but the blonde had endured it for Byron’s sake.

“I would never.” The sincerity in his voice must’ve convinced Gav, because the blonde emerged from behind the screen, tugging uncomfortably at his clothes.

Clive suppressed the urge to let out a low, appreciative whistle. Byron’s seamster had done a splendid job, despite Gav squirming the whole time. Snug, dark trousers accentuated Gav’s long legs and his long-sleeved shirt had a plunging neckline that rivaled Clive’s own. But it was the velvet waistcoat that did it for him. The dark royal blue really brought out the green in Gav’s eye and the cut flattered his trim waist and other… assets.

He licked his lips, “You look…”

“Like Farmer Lord Gav from Snowbird Hollow?”

The way he said it hurt Clive’s heart. He moved close, one hand reaching out to cup Gav’s cheek. “Handsome. Breathtaking. And yes, like Farmer Lord Gav from Snowbird Hollow, because there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.”

Gav’s mouth opened then closed, cheeks turning pink. He leaned into Clive’s hand, “M’sorry. Being silly, huh.”

“Not at all,” He drew Gav close, kissing him gently. He’d been born into this privileged existence and still felt out of place in it. He had a healthy appreciation for how much more overwhelming it’d be for someone born outside of it.

After they parted, Gav’s deft fingers swiftly closed the brass buttons on Clive’s own waistcoat, also velvet but a deep red instead of blue. “You’re lookin’ mighty fine yourself, Clive.”

They kissed again, this time with a little more heat. Clive was just starting to fancy skipping dinner and having Gav instead when the blonde pulled away, wringing a little whimper from Clive’s lips.

Gav laughed softly, thumb tracing over Clive’s lower lip, “Later, love. We’ll have all night.”

Clive sighed but nodded his head. Gav was right, of course. Damn it all.

“…Clive?” Gav was hesitant again.

“Mmn?”

“I know we’re supposed t’ wait until the party for gifts, but your gift is kind of�� unwieldy. Byron gonna mind if I give it to you now?”

“Of course not, my boy!” Clive heard Byron’s jovial response so clearly in his mind it was like his uncle was standing in the room with them, “He won’t mind at all.”

Wondering what this unwieldy gift could be, Clive watched as Gav crossed the room and pulled what looked like something very long and very heavy wrapped in green fabric and tied with gold ribbon from the closet.

“Where—” Clive spluttered as Gav sauntered over, depositing his gift on the bed. It was so heavy it made the mattress bounce. “You didn’t bring that with us, did you…!?” It been hard enough keeping his considerably smaller gifts out of Gav’s sight the entire journey. Where had he been hiding this?

Gav was looking proud of himself, “When you told me Byron invited us to Port Isolde for Yule I had it sent here after it was finished. Told Byron it was coming and it arrived by chocobo cart a few days before we did.”

Clive groaned faintly, he wished he’d thought of that.

“Go on, then,” Gav chirped. “Open it.”

Clive undid the ribbon and unwrapped the fabric.

Father’s greatsword!? Was his first confused thought. But no, his father’s blade was long gone. He knew that. This greatsword was newly forged. It just looked exactly like—

“Had Joshua sketch it from memory,” Gav said softly. “Blackthorne forged it, of course.”

Clive swallowed hard. His chest suddenly tight. He ran his fingers reverently down the hilt and over the flat side of the shining blade.

“Gav, I—” His tongue felt heavy. An overwhelming wave of tenderness toward Gav rolled over him. Tears began to spill down his cheeks.

Vaguely through the barrage of his emotions, he heard Gav frantically apologizing and moved quickly to reassure him.

“No, Gav, don’t apologize…” He took Gav’s hands in his, kissing the backs, his knuckles, the long fingers, “I love it. Thank-you.”

Gav’s arms wrapped securely around him, but his expression was still uncertain, “You sure? If I overstepped—"

“I love it,” He repeated firmly, nuzzling into Gav’s neck, kissing it. “I love you,” He nipped at the skin beneath his lips.

“Love you too, but don’t you leave a mark on me right now, Clive Rosfield.” Gav chuckled weakly, still a little shaken by Clive’s reaction to his gift.

Thwarted again. Clive contented himself with pressing another kiss to Gav’s neck before releasing him. He propped his new blade against the wall in the corner of the room, admiring it briefly before taking Gav by the hand. It was time for dinner.

❆ ❆ ❆

There were only nine of them present, ten including Torgal fervently chewing on a bone in the corner, but dinner was still going to be a noisy affair. Joshua could scarcely hear his own thoughts. Eudora and Byron were the loudest by far, followed by the twins, who Joshua suspected were already a bit tipsy. The wine had been flowing freely. Clive was the quietest, murmuring to Gav, who was looking overwhelmed by the sheer amount of cutlery around his plate.

“Dinner is courtesy of Gav!” Byron announced as the staff began to file in carrying dishes and platters. “Saved the whole Yule feast, he did!”

Gav’s cheeks flushed bright red and he took a hasty gulp of wine. Joshua gave him a smile and his knee an encouraging pat. His brother, sitting on Gav’s other side, did the same.

The food flowed in faster than the wine. Heaps of garlic roasted potatoes, mashed parsnips, tossed gysahl greens, glazed carrots (contrary to popular belief, no longer Joshua’s mortal enemy), thick slices of freshly baked bread, dressed eggs, peas and onions swimming in butter, and of course the boar, roasted to crackling perfection.

Joshua’s mouth watered. Molly, the Hideaway’s cook, did a fine enough job when she put her mind to it, but it’d been a long time since he’d had anything that wasn’t some type of stew or soup. He piled his plate with a bit of everything and asked for a refill on his wine. Clive tossed a generous slice of boar meat to Torgal.

Gav accidentally used the wrong fork for the boar. Joshua and Clive used a randomly chosen fork in solidarity. Joshua chose the dessert fork, imagining the look on his mother’s face if she could see him now.

No. Joshua’s lips pressed firmly together. He was enjoying this evening. He wasn’t going to sour it with thoughts of her.

A foot nudged at Joshua’s under the table and he couldn’t decide if it was Kasir, Chiara, or Melia. All three were giving him the eye from across the table. If he’d been a betting man, he’d put his gil on one of the twins. They had already ambushed him beneath the winterberry hung over the entranceway to the dining hall, sandwiching him between them as they each pressed a kiss to one cheek. Chaos and Menace indeed.

❆ ❆ ❆

Dinner had been for family only, but Byron and Eugen had decided to invite a handful of people to the Yule party. Some of their oldest friends who could be trusted not to harass Clive and Joshua and a few musicians to play, as the twins at the very least would want to dance.

Byron lips twitched in a sympathetic smile as Chiara twirled Joshua around the parlor. His poor nephew was one of the youngest, eligible (at least, Byron thought so, though he did wonder who the hairbrushes were for…) lads there, thus he’d been called upon to dance with Chiara, her sister, and even Kasir time and again. Even some of Byron and Eugen’s friends had coaxed a dance out of him.

Clive remained as tightly coiled as was appropriate in public around Gav, his grim expression meant to scare off anyone who wanted to dance. He’d only consented to dance with Eudora earlier in the evening.

A hand slid into his and Byron looked over to see Eugen standing beside him, smiling as Joshua bowed politely to Chiara and excused himself to hide in a shadowy nook with a cup of wine for a moment.

“This has been wonderful,” he said.

Byron’s heart swelled. That was exactly what he’d been hoping for, “It has.”

“…Would you care to dance?” Eugen asked quietly, gruffly, looking for all the world like the embarrassed teenager who’d asked Byron to kiss him in the garden once many years ago.

“I’d love to, darling.”

Eugen’s hand found the small of his back and he put his own hand Eugen’s shoulder as they slowly glided about the room. Melia walked by them, her gaze firmly set upon Joshua, when Gav smoothly intercepted her, holding one hand out.

“A dance, m’lady?” He asked with a grin.

“I’d be delighted, sir!” She giggled, taking Gav’s hand.

Byron chuckled when he saw his nephew mouth “thank-you” with a grateful sigh.

❆ ❆ ❆

Clive sat on one of the lounge sofas watching Gav dance with Melia, his stomach twisting. It wasn’t jealousy, but nerves making him squirm. He’d retrieved his gift for Gav from under one of the Yule trees, anxiously twisting the ribbon tied about the package around and around his finger as he waited.

Gav had recruited Joshua and Blackthorne to forge his father’s greatsword for him. It seemed they were on the same page in regard to their relationship. So, his gift, wanting to show Gav he was part of their family, wasn’t too much, right?

He turned his gaze and his mind to his uncle instead, trying to distract himself. He smiled as he watched Byron and Eugen dance by the musicians. He hadn’t been sure about Eugen at first, but as the day went on he saw the man beneath the brisk surface. The man who loved Byron dearly. The man Byron had waited decades for.

Clive looked back at Gav, his nerves softening into adoration, relieved he hadn’t had to wait as long for Gav. He would’ve, if he had to, but glad he hadn’t needed to.

The musicians changed to something a little more upbeat. Byron and Eugen continued to dance, and a few of their friends and Eudora joined, but Melia and Gav parted, her curtsying and him giving her a deep bow.

“Had to give poor Joshua a breather. Looked like the lad was going t’ pass out.” Gav said as he rejoined Clive on the lounge, stealing a sip of Clive’s wine.

“Better you than me,” Clive chuckled.

“I thought you were my shield, brother.” Joshua teased as he stepped up behind the lounge.

“You’re not in danger, Joshua.”

“Easy for you to say,” His brother replied. Chiara was now eyeing him from across the parlor. “Your feet aren’t at risk of being danced right off, and you’ve Gav to protect you.”

“He protected you, too.”

“True. Thank-you, Gav.”

The blonde chuckled, “Ah, don’t mention it.”

It was then that Joshua noticed the gift his older brother was clutching in his hands, “Well, I’m going to refill my wine and hide in the library for a while. Wish me luck, gentlemen.”

“Luck,” Gav and Clive said in unison as Joshua walked off.

They sat in silence for a few moments, sharing sips from Clive’s wine, before he finally worked up the courage to set the gift in Gav’s lap.

“Happy Yule, Gav.”

“Aw, Clive,” Gav pulled the ribbon off and unfolded the fabric. He let out a quiet, appreciative whistle when he saw the cloak inside. “No more freezing my arse off on watch—” His eye fell upon the cloak pin and picked it up as though it was made of glass.

Clive held his breath. Waited. He knew Gav, clever and observant, would understand the significance of the pin. He would’ve seen the matching pins on his and Joshua’s cloaks before.

“…This revenge for me makin’ you cry earlier?” Gav asked softly.

Clive huffed an equally soft laugh, moving close to wrap his arm around the blonde’s waist. “No. It’s an offer, and a promise.”

Gav looked at him, his face unreadable. Clive’s heart skipped a beat.

Then he leaned in, pressing a brief, chaste kiss to his lips, making Clive all but melt with relief. “Thank-you, love,” He fastened the pin to his new cloak, smoothing the leather around it. “It’ll look good on me.”

“It will,” Clive agreed, heart soaring. He felt like he could float right off the lounge.

Gav smiled thoughtfully, “Y’know, when I first joined the Hideaway all I wanted was a family. Now I’ve got two. I’m spoiled, me.”

“But I’ll spoil you more than Otto will,” Byron stage whispered as he and Eugen danced by.

“Don’t be rude, dear. They’re having a moment.” Eugen lightly admonished.

“It was not rude—”

Clive and Gav chuckled together as Byron and Eugen danced away again, bickering in the loving way they did.

“And I’ll spoil you more than Otto or Byron will,” Clive murmured. “There’s three more gifts waiting for you…”

“Hells, Clive, you weren’t kidding.” Gav laughed.

No one was looking. Clive snuck in a quick line of kisses up the side of Gav’s neck, his gaze still on Byron and Eugen.

“I want that to be us.” The words just popped out and Clive blushed, realizing what he’d said, but he didn’t take it back. He meant it.

Gav looked at him, smirking slightly. “The bickering or the dancing?”

“Older… together.”

The blonde’s expression softened and he looked down at his gift, fingers tracing the design on the pin. “…I like the sound of that.”

Oh, if only they weren’t in a room full of his uncle’s guests. He wanted to kiss every last inch of Gav.

“Would you like to dance while we’re growing old together?” He asked. It’d have to do until he had Gav to himself.

Gav smiled and stood up, holding his hand out to him, “Love to.”

❆ ❆ ❆

The party was over. Byron and Eugen bundled their friends, all in various stages of inebriation, into their carriages to send them safely home. Clive had to help Kasir carry Chiara and Melia to bed, both sisters too drunk and exhausted to walk. Eudora, also a little tipsy, affectionately pinched Clive on the cheek as thanks before tottering off to bed herself. Byron and Eugen followed soon after. Gav lightly ruffled Joshua’s hair and planted a kiss on the top of Clive’s head before he also sleepily weaved away, leaving Clive and Joshua in the parlor.

The brothers sat together in a couple of wooden chairs facing toward the fireplace. The flames were low but provided enough light and heat that neither of them bothered to move to add more wood. Torgal lay on the rug in front of the hearth, gnawing on what was left of his bone.

Clive was tired, but not as tired as Joshua had to be. Hiding in the library had granted him a small reprieve, but it’d only been half an hour before the twins had found him again. He and Gav had taken a few turns diverting their attention with dances, but it seemed their appetite for Joshua was insatiable.

“I believe my toes have fallen off…” Joshua groaned, pulling one of his boots off so he could massage his foot. “I can’t remember the last time I danced…”

“I can’t remember the last time I celebrated Yule.”

Silence fell between them as they realized the answer together. Before the Night of Flames, of course. A night that simultaneously felt like it was yesterday and centuries ago.

Joshua pulled his other boot off, fingers working at his calf muscle. “How different things could have been if—" He cut himself off, sharply shaking his head, massaging his lower leg a little more aggressively than necessary.

Clive’s mouth twisted bitterly. He knew what Joshua was thinking, because he’d thought it himself a time or two that evening. If only their mother had been someone like Eudora, a woman they’d known for considerably less time, but already adored so much more.

“No,” His younger brother said, more to himself than Clive. “I promised I wouldn’t sour this night.”

“You haven’t—”

Joshua cut him off this time, “For you, dear brother.”

He stood from his chair and dragged a large wooden trunk over to Clive. It seemed Gav hadn’t been the only one with the foresight to send a cumbersome gift ahead of time. He’d have to remember that for next year…

Joshua sat down again with an exhausted sigh as Clive lifted the trunk’s lid to peer inside.

“I know many will consider it a sin, to cover up your chest, but I’ll sleep better knowing your heart is better protected.”

New armor lay within the trunk. Greaves and gauntlets made from dark metal. A chest piece with thick black leather cut in the shape of flames and layered over a metal bodice that glimmered red here and there. It would indeed cover his chest.

“You and Gav have been keeping Blackthorne busy, I see…” Clive murmured, lifting the chest piece out of the trunk, looking it over wonderingly.

“An unfortunate side effect of caring about you.” Joshua replied with a tired chuckle.

“Thank-you, Joshua.”

“You’re most welcome, brother.”

Joshua drained the last of his wine, head lolling back against the chair behind him. Clive didn’t think his brother even heard him get up as he retrieved a bundle from beneath the nearest Yule tree.

“This is from both Gav and I,” Clive set Joshua’s gift in his lap, startling him out of his half-asleep state.

Stifling a yawn, Joshua untied the ribbon and opened the package. Inside he found four thick stacks of bound, blank paper, three ink pots, and three chocobo-feather quills.

He brightened, picking up one of the quills and admiring the tiny, intricate carvings in the wooden shaft. “Gav made these! I’ve been wanting to ask him to make me one ever since I saw the quill he made for Harpocrates.”

Clive nodded, “Ambrosia donated the feathers. Voluntarily, mind you.”

“Thank-you, Clive. This is a fine gift. Thank Gav, too.”

“I will.”

Joshua yawned again and pulled his boots back on, taking a few tries to do it in his exhaustion. Gathering his gift in his arms, he stood from his chair.

“…I am going to bed. If I never see another musician again it will be too soon. Come along, Torgal.”

Clive chuckled, “Goodnight, Joshua.” He rubbed Torgal behind his ears, “Goodnight, boy.”

“Until tomorrow, Clive.”

Joshua left the parlor with Torgal trailing close behind and Clive stretched, his back creaking faintly, before standing up as well. He tucked his gift from Joshua safely beside a Yule tree and made sure the flames in the fireplace were out before heading down the hall to the guest room he shared with Gav.

Clive was mid-yawn when he entered, stopping dead in his tracks at the sight that greeted him. All thoughts of sleep instantly fled from his mind. Gav was posed on the bed, stark naked, with a ribbon delicately wrapped and tied with a neat little bow around his—

“Surprise,” Gav looked very pleased with himself. “Got you more than one gift, too.”

Clive locked the door and beelined for the bed, shedding his clothes as fast as he could.

---

I'll let y'all decide who Joshua bought the hairbrushes for, and if they're platonic or romantic lol

[what-am-i-doing-in-this-fandom]

sweet child, you didn't even stand a chance

[yueebby]

gojo satoru, who kisses you senselessly under the mistletoe (that he had put up) in your dark living room illuminated by the soft glow of the christmas tree while the two of you were supposed to be placing presents underneath the tree for megumi and tsumiki. of course, he is also wearing a santa costume that makes the entire situation quite comical. when you try to break the kiss to remind him of your present-placing mission, he only places a firm hand on your waist and kisses you even deeper. 

“satoru,” you place a hand on his chest and he grins widely.

“ah, ah. it’s santa.” he corrects you. “and santa wants his sugar tonight~”

the two of you fail to notice megumi’s equally surprised and horrified expression as he peeks his head in from the kitchen, the warm glass of milk in hand long forgotten.

[tomfrogisblue]

I just wanna thank cc!Cellbit for fulfilling my personal Wishlist of Fuckery while he was rampaging with Baghera today

Fucking with each member of Fuga Impossível individually ✅️

Searching out Pac specifically with The Voice ✅️

Messing with Ljoga and Malena ✅️

Threatening Natalan ✅️

Generally having fun torturing his friends and strangers alike ✅️

And finally, murdering anyone he wanted ✅️

[twstyuna]

I like to think that Skully's UM turns people into Jack-o-lanterns immediately because he's 16 he's still developing it.

I like to think it gets more horrifying when he's older, and it's more developed. Maybe it turns people into pumpkins slowly, for the sheer fear factor of it. Feet turning into roots and the rest bursting into vines and tough skin and swelling up until you're a pumpkin. Coraline movie other-father kind of thing.

I like to think that if he tried and blew out the light in the jack-o-lantern, it could do anything from weakness/magic loss to fatality.

I like to think the area around him would go dark, or that whoever it's cast upon would get a little blinded, because Scary Night , and leave them to watch in terror as they see themselves (see easily, because of the pumpkin's orange, because of the light), how they twist and turn into grotesque pumpkin people before becoming jack-o-lanterns.

Basically progression to more fearful execution over time.

[abiiors]

under the mistletoe 🎄// ross macdonald x reader (pt 2 of 2)

twelve days of christmas - day 3

a/n: best friends to lovers? no. it's idiots to lovers. this is also part 2 of secret santa cw: kissing, alcohol, very tame and cheesy. there might be typos... wc: 3k

a cheer cuts through the chatter in the room and ross finds himself standing under a mistletoe, liv first in his arms, then standing on her toes and then they’re kissing—sweet, long kisses that make him smile despite the butterflies in his stomach. 

butterflies that should have been a result of the kiss. instead, it feels more like a swarm of bees buzzing in his chest from anticipation. 

ross doesn’t expect to be this nervous. more than that, he doesn’t expect to pull away from the kiss before she does. even when liv looks at him with slight concern. 

he certainly doesn’t expect himself to be so hung up on secret santa. he has bought plenty of gifts for people he cares about before! good ones too; sure, he’s no pro at gift giving but he’s not entirely hopeless. but this time he simply cannot afford to mess up. not when it took him two turns to get the name he really wanted. 

everyone looks festive in some shade of red or green on white—and one silver but charli really pulls it off. liv has a beautiful green velvet dress on, her curly hair piled on top of her head and gold hoops dangling from her ears. liv looks stunning!

it’s her that really takes his breath away—the girl who’s been his best friend for over a decade now. the girl who now stares at him with a tight smile on her face, cheering almost on autopilot with the rest of his friends. she’s in a classic red slip dress and matching red lipstick that contrasts her skin so perfectly that ross almost feels guilty for staring at her longer than necessary. he’s right next to his girlfriend for fucks sake. he needs to focus!

the excitement in the room is off the charts! everyone’s buzzing to get to the main event—the secret santa gifts—and he feels a tiny pit of nervousness at the centre of all his enthusiasm. what if she doesn’t like his gift? what if it’s something she already has or something that’s too personal… too intimate. 

liv breaks his little spiral. 

“you alright?” she slides onto his lap with an easy smile and pecks him softly. 

“yeah, just excited about the gifts! i wonder who got my name.” even with her on his thigh ross can’t stop his knee from bouncing up and down. the weird mixture of anticipation and butterflies is something he’s rarely felt before—not since… well not since her last birthday when he’d gotten her two tickets to the play she’d been dying to go to. 

(if he’s being honest it was not since she’d asked him if he’d like to go with her.)

“me too!” liv beams and it’s as if that’s matty’s cue to announce that they can all finally, finally move to the living room.

the living room is adorned with twinkling lights and tinsel, creating a warm and cozy atmosphere. a decently sized pile of gifts sits under the pretty tree—the current object of everyone’s interest. his nervousness aside, ross feels as giddy as the others do, still like a child on christmas morning about to get the long anticipated pokemon card collection. 

matty gets to the pile and starts calling out names one after the other. 

ross is barely even listening—his mind races with a million different possibilities. what if it’s a shit gift? what if she doesn’t like it or has something similar or doesn’t get the significance of it?

what if she thinks he put no thought into it?

he’s barely even listening when polly coos over the “cutest jumper ever!” or when george cackles over his gag gift or when matty almost goes misty eyed over the vintage book. 

he only snaps out of it when matty calls out her name and envelopes her in a hug. 

“it’s perfect,” he sniffles and ross burns with envy.

not envious of matty. never envious of matty but… a tiny, irrational part of him wishes she were his secret santa instead. that she spent days thinking about him, obsessing over finding the perfect gift just like he had. 

that maybe she spent her nights in bed, wondering a thousand times over if her gift would make him smile (it would, ross thinks. she could get him a £10 bottle of wine and he would still cherish it dearly.)

“ross!” matty calls out and he startles a little. 

matty looks at him with a slightly puzzled expression and wiggles a neatly wrapped gift in front of him. it’s square and thin with a small note attached to it.

he recognises it instantly—a handwriting he’s only recently come to know as liv’s. 

liv. his girlfriend. his secret santa. 

and he’s an awful, awful boyfriend for the feeling of disappointment that rises in him.

his fingers move deftly, tearing apart the wrapping paper until the gift inside becomes visible. the first thing he registers is the word “untitled” printed front and centre in big bold letters. and below it: “divine connection: the last unreleased album”. it dawns on him slowly—the band, their band. the last album from their band. just his and hers. and on autopilot, his gaze snaps up to her.

“ross?”

for the second time that evening liv’s voice cuts through his spiral and he turns around to see her standing at the door to the balcony with a half-drunk champagne flute in her hands. she’s beautiful, he thinks. she’s always been stunning but his heart doesn’t skip a beat when he looks at her. 

“can we talk?” she walks in and stands next to him, shoulders brushing with his. it’s a cold night. it’s silly being outside but he’s in a weird mood. he even kinda prefers it here. 

“yeah of course,” he clears his throat and tries to appear casual. 

“did you like your gift?”

“i did. it was… it was perfect.” at least that much is true. at least that much he can say with 100% certainty. “thank you. really, i mean it.”

“i know you do.”

for a minute she doesn’t say anything but her eyes roam over his face—a scruitinising sort of a look that makes him want to shy away. she’s never been particularly intense but in the few weeks he’s known liv, she’s had a way of guessing his little tells. it takes everything in him to not look away. 

still, he closes his eyes for a minute. 

the scene is still so fresh in his mind—ross opening the gift and looking up. ross staring at her and not liv. ross murmuring “thank you. it’s perfect.” and smiling at her before he even remembered that the gift was supposed to be from liv. 

ross only looks at her, his best friend. and she can’t seem to meet his gaze. 

liv clears her throat and brings him back to the present. she takes another swig of her champagne and offers him the glass. ross studies her lipstick smudge on the rim and accepts the drink gratefully. 

“you’re in love with her, aren’t you?” 

a second sooner and he would have choked on the drink or done a spit-take like a fucking idiot but the question leaves him so speechless that he almost drops the glass. 

“who?”

“don’t play dumb now.” her tone’s a bit sharp but her words aren’t unkind and the thought of being scolded like that makes him blush slightly and straighten up. 

he’s about to speak when she continues. 

“i see how you look at her—how you looked at her when you opened the gift i gave you. you knew it wasn’t from me didn’t you?”

wordlessly, he nods his head. 

“you knew i didn’t think of it. you were right though. i didn’t. i went to her because she’s you best friend.”

“and she told you about the band?”

liv clicks her tongue. “she handed me the record. turns out she had you for secret santa before we picked the names again.”

“oh…”

there’s another beat of loaded silence in which he struggles to maintain eye contact with her and not feel like an utterly shit boyfriend. 

“liv i—”

“i know,” she smiles briefly. “but you can’t string me along, babe. look i like you a lot. i really do and i know… i know you told me you were trying to move on from someone but i assumed that was a past relationship. i didn’t realise you were talking about…your best friend.”

“i’m sorry,” he shakes his head. “i really am. i know that was shitty of me.”

“it was a little.”

none of them speak for a few minutes. ross looks at her champagne again, wishing he’d had a drink with him for this conversation. or maybe not—maybe a clearer head is what he needs. he is getting dumped, after all. 

and yet… there’s no sadness. just a faint sense of disappointment. 

“so this is it i guess?”

in one gulp liv finishes the rest of her champagne and nods. “yeah. this is it. for what it’s worth ross… i have no hard feelings.”

this time when she smiles at him, it’s open and sincere. much to his relief, it’s friendly. liv stands on her toes and presses a kiss to his cheek. it’s chaste and quick—a goodbye, one that he returns by hugging her tightly. 

liv pauses at the threshold just as she’s leaving. 

“why don’t you tell her?”

ross shakes his head in disappointment and feels the familiar ache settle bone deep. the night suddenly seems so much colder than before—no longer the cosy kind that makes you want to snuggle up with a loved one. this feels sharp and biting. 

“can’t,” he shrugs, “i don’t want to ruin years’ worth of friendship.”

he expects liv to understand that. it’s a perfectly normal sentiment—to love someone enough that you’d rather have some of them than none of them. but she just shakes her head at him. 

“wow…” liv sighs, “for a man so smart… you really are fucking dumb.”

and then she leaves him on the balcony, shivering and confused. 

by the time he gets inside, there’s a lull in the party. everyone’s either drunk or loved up or both. well, maybe not everyone. 

ross finds her huddled in front of the fireplace, absently staring at her wrist. at the pearl bracelet he got for her.

a near-perfect match to her beloved pearl necklace from her grandmother.

the fire casts a warm, golden glow on her—on her hair and the curve of her shoulder, the hollow of her throat, and down her chest. he stands transfixed at the threshold, waiting for something to happen. 

maybe matty (passed out on the sofa) will wake up if he moves or polly might need something from him or george and charli might see them and he loves his friends but they have barely any concept of personal space after all these years. maybe he could just do it tomorrow when he’s not half-drunk, half-sober, and fully freaking out. 

“ross?”

too late to hide now. 

“why are you stood there? come on! it’s so cold!” she opens up her blanket cocoon—an invitation for him to join. 

ross, startled by her voice, stumbles into the room. his cheeks flush with embarrassment and he clears his throat, trying to mask the awkwardness that has suddenly enveloped him. 

fuck! she’s pretty. and yes he thinks that every single time he looks at her but it’s moments like these that really hit him like a gut punch. 

liv’s words echo in his mind over and over again. for a man so smart… you really are fucking dumb. was she trying to say what he thinks she was? or is he just delusional and projecting his own feelings onto her. 

her body is soft and warm when ross settles next to her, pulling her into his side and tucking her head under his chin. 

“you were deep in thought.” ross teases a bit, not ready to broach anything serious just yet. what he really wants to ask is about the record—how she’d somehow known his perfect gift before he figured it out himself. 

“just thinking about how good i am at gift giving,” she teases back. “matty was ecstatic.”

she's right but he can’t help but find a different meaning in her words. 

“that you are,” ross murmurs in her hair, resisting the urge to press a little kiss there. it’s too much for him—this intimacy. something like that might just tip him over the edge. 

for a while she doesn’t say anything and ross wonders if she’s fallen asleep. it’s quite late and they’re quite cosy, it won’t be the first time she's fallen asleep on him. maybe, if she is asleep, he might even press that kiss onto her head after all. 

“liv’s not here?” her voice breaks his train of thought. it’s not teasing anymore—she sounds neutral and controlled and… and like she’s trying not to pry. 

“we broke up.”

“what?!”

she almost shrieks and matty stirs slightly but goes back to sleeping again. ross feels guilty for just dumping it on her without any context. 

“i’m so sorry,” she says before he has a chance to speak. “fuck, at a christmas party too! that sucks, love. are you alright?”

“it wasn’t like that. it was…” this is it, he thinks. his one chance to get it right. “i’m perfectly fine. i’m… i’m better than fine. it’s… well she–you… fuck okay!”

he cheeks grow warm. it’s worse now that she’s properly looking at his now, her face a mixture of concern and curiosity; that she’s now an attentive audience to his pathetic flustered words. 

“let me…” he takes a big deep breath and squares his shoulders. “okay. let me get this right. for the next, i don’t know, two minutes, you aren’t allowed to speak, okay? okay. so! liv and i talked.” the skepticism on her face grows and ross tries not to let it deter him. “the gift, the record—”

“was it not good?”

“oi! no speaking, remember? two minutes.” ross scolds lightly and almost laughs at her sheepish face. “as i was saying, the record. it wasn’t her idea, was it? i asked her how she knew and she told me you gave it to her. for me! why didn’t you… why didn’t you give it to me yourself?”

for all her talking a moment ago, now she seems speechless. so much so that she can barely meet his eyes. 

“it was a lovely gift, darling. maybe even one of the best and… i just want to know why, that’s all.”

her cheeks flush a subtle shade of pink, and she fidgets with the edge of the blanket. “i guess i wanted you to have something meaningful without making things awkward. i’d already bought the gift and i didn't want to complicate our friendship with something that felt so… personal, especially with liv being in the picture. and…fuck! if that’s what made you break up, i’m so sorry, i—"

“it didn’t,” he cuts her off firmly. ross can’t help but notice the small details of her face then—the tiny smudges of mascara from no doubt when she sleepily rubbed her eyes, the glitter on her eyelids reflecting the firelight. her big, beautiful eyes and dilated pupils. 

her slightly smudged lipstick…

fuck, it’s the tiny lipstick smudge on the corner of her lips that makes him lose his ability to think straight.

“we broke up because… well there’s someone else,” he speaks in a low volume. subconsciously, she leans forward. 

“someone else?”

the room falls into a heavy silence, broken only by the crackling fire. she waits, her eyes searching his face for any sign that he's joking or playing some elaborate prank. but the sincerity in his expression leaves no room for doubt.

“you’re my best friend,” he says, “and fuck, do i resent that! how am i… darling, how am i meant to pretend you’re just my friend when you’re the fucking focal point of my world?”

her breath catches so audibly that it’s almost a gasp. he waits for her to say something. anything. instead she leans in an presses her lips to his. 

it’s so unsure at first, almost like she freezes and her brain can’t figure out where to go next. the kiss lingers, soft and tentative—both testing the waters of something uncharted. ross's mind races, trying to process the warmth of her lips against his, the subtle taste of her lipstick. 

she pulls away before he’s even had the chance to kiss her back and hides her face in his chest. 

“oh god, that was too soon, wasn’t it! that was–you just broke up and i—”

“love, don't hide your face, don't…” his hands gently cup her flushed face, making her look up at him once again even when she can barely meet his eyes and in that moment he realises he’s never seen someone so beautiful. 

so this time when ross crashes his lips against hers, he makes sure to pull her closer. to hold onto her tightly. his arms are around her, her hands in his hair and oh she fits so perfectly in the crevices of his body. like a perfect puzzle piece. 

by the time they finally pull apart, slightly breathless and grinning uncontrollably, ross hears her giggle. 

“wow, that was my first kiss under a mistletoe…”

“we aren’t—”

“i know, but we’re next to one so it’s almost the same.”

he looks to where she’s pointing, to the little bunch tied above the fireplace. 

“we could do better, darling.”

“yeah?”

“mm-hmm,” he murmurs, stealing another quick kiss from her. “let me take you home.”

and she agrees in a heartbeat.

lemme know what you think <33

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add yourself to the taglist

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Alone on Christmas

1986 wasn't kind to Wayne Munson, even after the strange phenomena following the earthquake settled down and life slowly returned to Hawkins. It didn't matter where he was, if the house was new, if the street was vastly different from the trailer park - he would still see Eddie standing in his kitchen, boiling water for any leftover tea bags they had because the heating wasn't exactly willing and they would wrestle for the last pair of clean warm socks. He would catch a glimpse of a head of dark curls outside and lose his breath, his mind conjuring up an image of his nephew's mischievous grin before it dissolved, revealing a foreign face. A song on the radio that Eddie loved and used to blast throughout the trailer, a leather jacket in a shop window, a forgotten poster calling for Eddie's lynching...the town was unforgiving, even if there was nothing to forgive. Any grieving was difficult, Wayne was no stranger to it, but grieving while not being to talk about who you missed because people refused to believe the person Eddie was...it was a new and imaginative kind of torture. Wayne wasn't a social creature, but he'd never felt so utterly and thoroughly alone.

And if the year itself was painful, Wayne's first Christmas without Eddie hurt beyond belief. The traditions made no sense with Eddie gone, just empty gestures, sparkle with nothing underneath. Of course, Wayne knew that Eddie would have wanted him to celebrate, the boy was kind and ridiculously fond of Christmas even at his age. But even after the kid from Eddie's club, Dustin Henderson, visited Wayne and kept him company before excusing himself for a Christmas dinner with his mother, Wayne just couldn't conjure up a single spark of the festive spirit. After fighting to keep down two mouthfuls of store bought turkey and leaving his hot chocolate untouched long enough to go cold, he gave up. Grabbing his jacket and car keys, Wayne walked out of the door.

He didn't exactly plan where to go, but his body had known the destination long before his brain did. The drive itself was a blur and yeah, it wasn't really safe, the streets of Hawkins were covered with snow and it was already dark, but everyone who had something to live for was inside, sharing food and laughter, so the town might have looked deserted had it not been for the twinkling lights in the windows.

As for Wayne, he found himself in front of the Hawkins cemetery.

With the unbelievable amount of tragedy Hawkins had seen in previous years, it was no surprise that there were candles lit up on the graves, flowers, small presents. For the better or for the worse, people of Hawkins remembered, came to see their loved ones before retreating into the warmth of their own homes. In the dark, the cemetery was quiet and deserted.

Or almost.

At first, Wayne thought he must have been imagining things, but the closer he got to Eddie's gravestone, the more obvious it became that he wasn't the only one who decided that Christmas cheer just wouldn't do it. In the quiet of the snowy evening, the walkman hung over the slab of stone with Eddie's name sounded much louder, almost like a speaker. He couldn't tell the name of the song, but the voice sounded familiar - Dio, he recalled, one of Eddie's favorites. And in the front of the grave, on a thin blanket that must have done nothing to protect from the cold, sat a familiar figure. Steve Harrington.

Wayne knew Steve well enough, he saw him at the graveyard, at the relief center, driving the kids around. He also found him once knocking on his door past midnight, on one of Wayne's rare days off, and spent one of the strangest nights of his life sitting down with him, talking, Steve fidgeting and looking around with panicked eyes. But the boy was determined and slowly, almost apologetically, he told Wayne what exactly happened with Eddie, with Hawkins. "I know it sounds insane, I know it's too much and I'm putting both of us in danger, sir. But you deserve to know. Not some kind of a cover up story they will eventually tell you. You deserve to know what happened to Eddie. I used to think keeping everyone safe was a priority, that maybe it would help if we didn't think about it, but...yeah. You can stop me any time and I'll leave, no questions asked." But Wayne never stopped him and now he knew everything. It was a small consolation and the truth did nothing to soothe his anger and grief, but at least he had the full picture.

And now Steve Harrington was sitting in front of Eddie's gravestone - not a grave, no body to be buried, yet another stake through Wayne's heart - as Dio's voice broke through the silence of the night. He was grasping a mug of hot chocolate, another one leaning against the cool slab of granite, and somehow he even secured a tiny plastic tree, with small baubles and a tiny star at the top. Wayne's throat suddenly felt even tighter.

Steve's shoulders jerked when he heard the crunching of snow under Wayne's feet. He tried to get up, but his legs must have been cold and he fumbled with the fabric, almost crashing into Wayne in the process. "Shit. Sorry, sir, I just-!"

Wayne's large hands grasped his shoulders, stabilizing him. "Easy, boy. And I've told you before, it's Wayne. You happen to have a free spot on that blanket of yours?"

The boy still looked shaken, but he quickly nodded and smoothed out the blanket to allow both of them to fit. It was uncomfortable, way too cold and frankly depressing, but the silence between them felt right. Steve unscrewed the cap off his thermos flask (so that's how he kept the chocolate warm!) and handed it to Wayne. Unlike the cup still waiting on his table at home, Wayne sipped this one and actually enjoyed it.

After a few more minutes of shared quiet and listening to the finishing tones of Holy Diver, Wayne cleared his throat. "Nice tree you got there. You even got the colors right. Eddie loves...loved," he corrected himself, one of the worst habits he'd picked up recently, "the red and gold combo."

"I know." Steve's voice was strained, quiet. "I mean, I didn't know, originally...but I talked to Gareth. You know, the guy who played drums in Eddie's band? He told me...a lot. Well, I also asked a lot, so it's fair. I wanted..." his words trailed off, uncertain. "I guess I wanted to do something nice for him. Even if it's too late."

Wayne smiled into his hot chocolate. "My boy would still appreciate it. I sure do." Looking at the small twinkling tree, he sniffed, maybe not from the cold. "Hell, you did more for him than I did today - I just wanted to see him, easy as that, but you had the whole thing planned. I didn't...I didn't even get him a present."

The shuffling next to him surprised him enough to suppress the bitterness creeping up his throat. When he turned to Steve, the boy was holding a tiny wrapped package. "It can be from you then," he said, dropping the present into his gloved hand. "I didn't know where to set it, thought the snow would ruin the paper, but...maybe you can unwrap it on Eddie's behalf?"

Fucking depressing indeed. But also warm, so terrifyingly warm.

Steve watched as Wayne removed his gloves with his teeth. "Okay, Eddie. Let's see what Santa brought you," he muttered and tore off the paper, revealing a red D20. He glanced at Steve and they both started chuckling at once, finally easing some of heavy atmosphere.

"Dustin said this was like, Eddie's thing. He'd carry them in his pockets all the time" said Steve and swept aside some of the snow so Wayne could set the die down, under the tree.

"Oh you have no idea." Wayne was putting the glove back on and returning to his hot chocolate. Stupid December. "He'd leave those things lying everywhere. Ever stepped on one of these when you've just woken up? That hurts."

They were laughing again, watching the steam rising from Eddie's cup of hot chocolate. It would be cold soon.

But eventually, Wayne had to ask. He turned towards Steve, touched his shoulder. "Not that I don't appreciate the company, Steve, but...why are you here?"

He pressed his lips into a thin line, clenched his jaw. But Wayne knew when to push and when to wait.

Eventually, the silence got to Steve, made him desperate to break it. "I told you. I wanted...I wanted to do something nice for him. So I came here."

Wayne shook his head. The grip on Steve's shoulder never wavered and the boy didn't shake him off. "I get that. You're a good kid, Steve. But no one should be alone on Christmas Eve."

He didn't have to look to tell that Steve's lips were trembling, his breathing uneven. "But Eddie is," he whispered. Then, louder, more stubborn. He met Wayne's eyes. "You are."

If that truth didn't hurt. But Wayne couldn't bring himself to be mad, to flinch at another stab into his heart. Twisting on the blanket, he pulled Steve into a hug. He didn't give many and received even less, but maybe Steve needed it. Maybe they both did. By the ease with which Steve let himself be pulled forward, with the firm grip of Wayne's arms, it was hard to dispute.

"I know, Steve," he muttered against his shoulder. "We're both alone and it sucks, it sucks so much, but there's nothing we can do about it. And you don't have to tell me why you're not with your parents, girlfriend, friends, anyone...but making yourself miserable won't bring Eddie back. It wouldn't make him happy." Patting Steve's heaving back, he continued, staring into the night sky. "You know, if he was here, he'd probably yell at us both. And then he'd have us both drive home and warm up before we lose a limb or two."

Steve chuckled into his thick winter coat. "Not sure about it. He wasn't my biggest fan...until the last week. But even then, I think he'd enjoy watching me squirm a bit."

"Maybe so," said Wayne and glanced at Eddie's name on the gravestone. "But there's one thing I know about my boy, Steve. He saw people for real, how they felt. He just had a knack for it, he could see when you were lonely and that was when he was the loudest, most annoying. If he saw you like this, I don't believe for a second he'd enjoy it. He'd probably annoy the hell out of you to snap you out of it, then adopt you like a puppy or somethin'."

They were laughing again, the sound so foreign that Wayne couldn't believe it was coming from his own mouth.

They would have probably stayed there much longer, but the cassette finished playing and clicked loudly, drawing their attention. Wayne let Steve go, but not too far. He might have not been able to save his own boy, but maybe the adoption thing ran in the family. "Hey, Steve. Could you help me with a thing?"

The boy nodded immediately, not taking a single second to think. "Sure thing, sir- I mean Wayne. What is it?"

Wayne took a good look at him. Even in the darkness of the graveyard, in the flickering light of a candle he kept lit on Eddie's grave, he could see the circles under Steve's eyes, the haunted look he'd seen so many times in Vietnam and after. The lines in his face that weren't supposed to be there. "I have a turkey at home that needs eating. It's not good, mind you, but I hate wasting food."

Steve's mouth hung open. "I...I couldn't possibly..."

But Wayne was already rising to his feet, extending his arm to help Steve up too. "Na-ah, Steve. You already agreed. Now help this old man. I also have some more hot chocolate at home, pretty sure what we have here is still chocolate, but definitely not hot."

He saw how Steve's eyes traveled to the gravestone, the tree, the die underneath. The nearly cold mug. He took a deep breath, then another one. And nodded. "Of course. Let me just pack the blanket."

Wayne smiled and pulled him upwards. "Let me help, son." The word slipped from his mouth, almost automatic, but it wasn't just a phrase. Like this whole meeting, it felt right.

As they shook snow off the blanket, the baubles on Eddie's Christmas tree gleamed, like his smile.

[vanmarkus]

Inspiration Saturday 🎄

Aaand this would be the aforementioned second christmas fic; the rough draft is already done and it's just over 2k so I expect it to total out somewhere around 3-4k. Anyway, please enjoy this tiny snippet:

Buck sat in the waiting room, his eyes vacantly following the line of fairy lights running under the edge of the reception desk. They flickered every now and again.

Well, not just every now and again, but every thirteen seconds. Buck counted it out 67 times already.

He just started again, but he only got to six when he heard the voice he was waiting to hear for nearly 15 minutes now.

tags under the cut 💛

I was tagged by the lovely @daffi-990 @thewolvesof1998 @watchyourbuck @disasterbuckdiaz @giddyupbuck thank you my dears and for all the bunch of people tagging me for FIF too mwuah 💛

✨no pressure tagging: @malewifediaz @spagheddiediaz @jesuisici33 @jeeyuns @ladydorian05 @steadfastsaturnsrings @eowon @heartshapedvows @nmcggg @rainbow-nerdss @jamespearce9-1-1 @evanbegins @eddiebabygirldiaz @theotherbuckley

[nofacednerd]

worlds biggest sigh part 2

[gomzdrawfr]

Back to green profile, though we’re gonna need some red around here for the festiv—

[voidify333]

merry crisis :)

dimensions exactly 1080p

(also PLEASE read the companion fic by my friend and mutual beta reader team_stepladder! this fic answers the question "what happened to those signal samurai action figures?")

[theatrescribbles]

Marigold || Chapter 10 - Christmas at the Bambury's

To say that Sirius was over the moon to be asked to spend Christmas at Violet’s house with James and Marigold, was perhaps the understatement of the century.

“Are you sure?” he asked giddily. 

“Yes Padfoot, unfortunately for the rest of us, Violet insisted on me “dragging you along”.”

Read Chapter 10 on A03

Start from the beginning

James Potter, 26 year old Bachelor, wants to be one thing more than anything else: a father. Therefore, he decides to give foster parenting a shot. He then meets a little girl, who is set to change his life forever.

[spirit-dumps]

Just watched the sixth episode of season 2, oh my gosh my heart my heartttt

[hangmanssunnies]

I wasn't planning on having a breakdown today, but here we are. It's happening.

[saintlesbian]

as for the rest of the ep…

Chalynn truthers we won. we fucking won 🍾🍾🍾

Lois trying to talk Ned into making peace w/ Michael and Drew sounds REAL funny knowing that drew and Michael r still planning on pushing him out of ELQ again. fuck those two forever actually, y’all can make peace in hell

speaking of drewfus, I wish I could be glad he’s leaving but it’s not for very long and crew is gonna be annoying abt it I’m sure. this version of drew is such a shell of himself that anytime hes brought up I just feel disgusted 😖

I’m getting tired of Sonny bringing up Carly when talking to nina it just feels WEIRD… I really don’t wanna see a Carson reunion but it’s starting to feel like the pikeman/cyrus bs might end up being the catalyst for one… sonaritas should we be worried. 😟

also Tolly agreeing to use krissy as the surrogate… wasn’t there literally a whole argument against doing this months back that resulted in tolly icing krissy out for several weeks…? once again I must assert this whole surrogate storyline is a load of barnacles

[fatuismooches]

Poly Harbingers doing Secret Santa except when the names were drawn all of them ignored who they got and brought gifts for you instead. You got so many you had to get a separate room to fit them all. All of them fight with each other over who gave you the best gift.