#i want get at least one good christmassy photo of him

[prettyboy-remi]

1800-ARE-YOU-CROMCHING

[holdmymallowsweet]

Captured Memories

Words: 3,117, also on AO3

My contribution to the Sebinis Prompt Fest 2024

The prompt was: Sebastian is a photographer, and Ominis is his favorite subject, by the amazing, wonderful, lovely @pr0serpinas ❤️

I absolutely love the prompt, and I thought a lot about what to do with it, since there were so many possibilities... in the end, it turned into something sweet and christmassy (with some smut).

Warnings: Smut (Frottage)

(non-magic modern AU, but not too modern because photography was more romantic when people still had to develop film and put their pictures in photo albums)

Sometimes Sebastian wondered when it had started. 

Maybe with him slowly forgetting what his parents looked like. When he’d found it more difficult to recall their faces, then realised his mind had started to replace their features with those of his teachers, the postman, the nice lady from the bakery across the street.

It was all his Uncle’s fault. 

Sebastian wished they would have had more pictures taken before they died, but how could they have known their children would have to grow up without them? Not that it would have made any difference, Uncle Solomon probably would have lost those too, just like he’d lost the only good ones they had of them when they moved, the summer right before he met Ominis.

He’d never forgiven him for it. 

So when Anne and Solomon (who he suspected had only agreed to spend the money to put an end to Sebastian’s sulking) had gifted him his first cheap second hand camera for his eleventh birthday, he’d fallen in love with it. Took it everywhere, made sure it was never out of reach, until years later he’d managed to save up and replace it with a better model.

Anne had once joked that she was surprised he didn’t take it to bed with him.

Sebastian couldn’t help it.

It was his way of greedily holding on to small, precious moments, before time could erode them in his mind and take them away from him again.

And he’d make sure to capture memories of everything. Anne, of course. Their house, school, stray cats. Even Uncle Solomon, once, when he’d been too engrossed in his gardening to notice.

Then Ominis came along, and he’d discovered that there was nothing and no one he’d rather take pictures of.

And no one he was more scared to forget.

So he’d make sure he remembered.

He remembered when Ominis turned twelve, and they’d given him his first proper birthday party. With messy, self baked cake and sloppily wrapped presents and a loud, off-key rendition of the happy birthday song, instead of the stiff, formal dinners full of quietly judging old relatives Ominis was used to. 

Sebastian knew then that he’d cherish the look of unbridled joy on Ominis’ face forever, and he did. It was still one of his favourite pictures, one of those he pulled out and looked at when his house felt too cold and lonely.

He remembered when ominis grew his first awkward patch of facial hair on his chin, and how he tried to get at least one decent picture of it before Ominis would learn to shave it off.

He remembered staring at that picture for hours.

He’d placed it in a box, along with the others, because putting them in an album felt weird. One after the other, until eventually there was no more space. 

He remembered sitting on the floor, holding that box.

He remembered that being the moment he’d realised he’d never thought of Ominis as only a friend. 

It had been horrifying.

For hours, he’d been torn between running to the phone to confess and spill it all, and just throwing the box into the fireplace, as if getting rid of the evidence would erase his feelings as well.

In the end he’d quietly pulled out a second box and decided it was pointless to agonise about it anymore. Enjoy and treasure what he could get, because what he’d truly always wanted would likely forever be out of reach.

At least what he could get wasn’t half bad. Ominis smiling, happily nibbling on one of the cinnamon flavoured biscuits Sebastian had bought him at one of the stalls at the christmas market. Holding onto his arm because it had been difficult for him to navigate the crowd with his cane, and much tighter than strictly necessary, probably because of the cold. 

Sebastian shamelessly enjoyed it. There weren’t many days left until Christmas, but perhaps he’d find a few more excuses to take Ominis out until then.

He seriously considered taking a detour on their way back to his house, maybe to underneath a mistletoe somewhere, for an entirely friendly, platonic peck on the cheek.

Shame he wasn’t that bold.

“Could you hurry up? I’m freezing.” Ominis rubbed his hands together in an attempt to warm them up, cane stashed under his arm, waiting for Sebastian to finish fumbling with the keys.

“Almost got it,” Sebastian answered, but even once he had the key ready, he shamelessly took another few moments to just stop and stare. Not too long, because frostbite would be a terrible christmas gift, just long enough to feel a small, stinging ache in his heart.

Ominis’ breath came out in clouds, disappearing into the cold winter air. The little impatient crease between his eyebrows deepened.

Sebastian had left his camera at home, at Ominis’ request, but now he wished he hadn’t.

Once inside, he went straight for it as soon as he’d kicked off his boots. He always liked to make sure it was within reach whenever Ominis came over, which was almost every day, now that they’d graduated.

He came back just in time to watch Ominis take off his winter jacket, hanging it next to Sebastian’s. He’d even bothered to collect Sebastians’ boots and put them neatly next to his own. There was something so familiar and domestic about the scene, it warmed him from the inside out. 

Ominis nose and cheeks were slightly red from the cold, his own were probably too. But Sebastian suspected he didn’t look nearly as ravishing. His hands moved almost by themself.

Ominis jumped at the clicking noise.

"I told you to warn me before you do that."

"Your face goes weird when I tell you. They never turn out any good."

"Do they turn out good when you startle me with the noise?"

Sebastian looked ruefully at the camera. They probably wouldn't, but he wouldn't find out until he'd developed them the next morning. Or maybe he'd stay up late, he usually couldn’t sleep for a while whenever Ominis left and he was alone with his thoughts again.

"Tea?" he asked, while Ominis settled himself on the seat in the bay window.

Ominis made a noise that probably meant “yes”- he’d be less grumpy and more talkative once he’d thawed out.

Smiling to himself, Sebastian was halfway through the door to the kitchen when Ominis found his voice after all.

“My mother wants me to stay at home for Christmas.”

“And will you?”

“Are you out of your mind? They’re barely tolerable any other time of the year.”

There was no need for further questions. They both knew where Ominis would be spending Christmas instead.

Things were good between them. Everything was fine. They could keep going like this. But Sebastian’s smile still dissipated as he filled the kettle and waited for the water to boil. 

Ominis stayed at his house more than his own, but it wasn’t much of an escape. Regardless of what Ominis said, they both knew he’d have to show his face at the Gaunt Christmas dinner, at least briefly. And lately, the word “marriage” had come up during family dinners.

How many more Christmases would there be, until he was no longer Ominis sanctuary when he needed a break from his horrid relatives, until Ominis finally had the courage to leave them for good and make a life of his own, somewhere far away from him?

Until the only pictures he'd get to see of Ominis weren't the ones he took, but on Christmas cards taken of some happy family, involving the man he loved and a wife he didn't know, sent from some remote place in the world.

Probably with horrible lighting and from an unflattering angle.

The whistling of the kettle mercifully put an end to his thoughts. He poured the water in two cups and added the teabags. 

When he came back to the sitting room, he found Ominis still perched on the window seat, legs tucked in and munching on his leftover biscuits again, illuminated by the afternoon sun streaming through the window.

He took a detour to the sitting room table where he’d left his camera and switched it for his own teacup, just in case.

“There you go. Careful, it’s hot.” Sebastian made sure to guide Ominis’ fingers to the handle, even as he burned his own fingertips a bit. 

“It’s good,” Ominis said after taking a careful sip. Sebastian knew it wasn’t, not compared to what Ominis was used to- freelance photography didn’t pay that well. But he knew Ominis meant it. 

They sat in silence for a while, Ominis sipping his tea, Sebastian mostly just staring, again, occasionally stealing a biscuit or two- he dimly remembered his own teacup sitting out of reach, but he didn’t care enough to get up.

He sometimes wondered if Ominis could feel his eyes on him, somehow. If he did, he never said anything. Sebastian knew he should feel at least a little bad for taking advantage of him like that, but that proved difficult when he could get lost in counting the pores on his skin instead, or the little lines next to his eyes that became more pronounced when he smiled.

He was in love with the way Ominis’ nose was ever so slightly crooked towards the left. He’d never figure out why, because if he wanted to, he’d have to ask- and he’d never say anything to Ominis that would make him believe he was less than perfect. The most perfect thing in the world. The only thing that was, and would ever be.

Ominis turned his head, and the way the light caught on his cheekbones made Sebastian’s stomach flip.

Without thinking, his hands came up again.

He couldn’t help it.

Ominis jumped again, almost spilled his cup, frowned in annoyance in spite of Sebastian’s quickly muttered apology.

“I honestly don’t know what there is to take pictures of in your own house. Has it changed in the five minutes you’ve been in the kitchen?”

“There’s you.”

“Again? I haven’t changed in the last five minutes either.”

Sebastian didn’t know what came over him. He should have laughed it off, changed the subject. Maybe it was the Christmas spirit that came over him. Maybe it was because the second box was starting to run out of space.

“I don’t want to forget,” he said softly.

Ominis frowned. “Forget what?”

“You.” Sebastian’s heart threatened to beat out of his chest. If he kept going, he’d eventually reach a point of no return, there would be no taking it back once he spilled it all.

“I don’t know how damaged your brain would have to be, we’re never apart for more than a few hours. We haven’t been since we were children.” 

“Sure, but It won’t be like that forever, will it?” Sebastian asked. He didn’t know why, when he was so scared of the answer.

“Who says it won’t?” Ominis turned fully towards him now, the look on his face almost defiant. “I’m not going anywhere. If anything changes, it will be because of you.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Sebastian, please. I thought that’d be obvious.”

He’d never seen that expression on Ominis’ face, it wasn’t in any of the pictures he ever took, but he knew it would be forever burned in his mind regardless. 

Time slowed down to a crawl, and Sebastian didn’t know what to say, until the sound of his heartbeat in the oppressive silence forced the first stupid question he could think of out of his mouth.

“For how long?”

Ominis shrugged, turned towards the window. Sebastian suspected that the flush on his cheeks was no longer from the cold.

“For as long as I can remember, really. Maybe since the day we met.”

Was this real? What if it wasn’t, what if this was a huge, stupid misunderstanding, what if there was something in the damn biscuits and they were both hallucinating-

“Do you mean it?” 

“Yes.”

Sebastian inched closer, curling his fingertips in the hem of Ominis’ sweater. Close enough to count his absurdly long eyelashes. Close enough not to miss the sudden shadow of nervousness and insecurity.

“I’m going to kiss you. This is your last chance to tell me this is a joke.”

“Just do it, you-”

Sebastian wouldn’t find out what he was.

Ominis’ lips were so soft it felt criminal, slightly chapped from the cold where they parted, and he tasted overwhelmingly like cinnamon biscuits.

It was all Sebastian ever wanted, and yet somehow still not enough. Before he knew what he was doing, he’d climbed on top of him, pressing Ominis up against the cold window. One of his knees ended up in between his thighs, and their lips kept moving against each other until they had to break apart because Sebastian stupidly forgot how to breathe through his nose.

“Sebastian-”

“Sorry, I’m sorry, I know this is too sudden-”

“No, the tea.”

Oh.

Ominis held his cup at an awkward angle, trying not to spill anything and not in a position to put it down anywhere, still caged in between Sebastian’s body and the window.

Sebastian took it and set it down on the floor in one swift motion, spilling half of it on the window seat cushion, but Ominis didn’t need to know. 

“You’ll step on it later.”

“I honestly couldn’t care less.”

He didn’t even realise that his hand was still clutching Ominis’ sweater, until Ominis took it, guided it to his cheek, from where it wandered on its own. To the back of Ominis’ neck, then weaving through the strands of his hair, messing it up like he’d always wanted to.

There was nothing but the sound of their ragged breaths in the silence that followed. Both of them knew there was a conversation begging to be had, about what this meant, what would change, what were they now?

But their lips only moved to devour each other again.

And again.

Until Ominis took off his sweater. “Because it’s too hot,” he said, but the second it left his body, the last remnants of Sebastian’s sanity went with it. 

His skin was as soft as it looked, pale and flecked with little beauty marks he could trace, straight down to-

It was ridiculous how quickly he’d gotten painfully hard, but Ominis clearly didn’t mind one bit, pulled him closer, let him feel how much he enjoyed it too.

Their kisses were getting sloppier by the second, with more tongue and teeth, mainly Ominis’, while Sebastian traced along the waistband of Ominis’ trousers. Slowly, hesitantly.

“I want you,” Ominis sighed, after a final bite on Sebastian’s lower lip.

Sebastian didn’t dare to ask how, exactly, or move, and it was Ominis who eventually broke the awkward silence. 

“Do you have any, you know.” He seemed to struggle with the word. “...uhm, lube?��

Sebastian briefly choked on his own spit. “Lube? Why would I, I wasn’t expecting anything like this in my wildest dreams.”

It was too much all of a sudden, he hadn’t even thought about how far he wanted to take this, at least not as much as Ominis apparently had. 

Ominis. Who’d bitten his lips raw, told him he’d never leave him, held onto him as they’d walked to his house- memories upon memories he could pull out of his mind like beads on a string, going further back in time, all little signs he’d missed because he’d been too self- absorbed, too busy feeling sorry for himself, dreading the loss of something he thought he’d never have, when all he ever wanted had been there, waiting for him-

Sebastian tried to awkwardly get up, just to clear his head for a second, but Ominis held onto him so tight he was sure he’d be left with finger shaped bruises as a memento.

“Don’t- just stay, keep going. I won’t last long anyway. Please.”

Of course he’d stay. He’d give him anything in the world, if he asked.

He kissed the little moles next to Ominis eyes, the ones he’d stared at thousands of times through the lens, never having dared to dream that he’d one day be allowed this close, to touch him, worship him like he deserved. 

“If you’d rather wait-”

“No.” Sebastian finally made up his mind. “I’ve waited long enough.”

He pressed his hips into Ominis again, bit his own lip now, as he groaned from the pleasure.

Ominis’ hand was suddenly gone, reappeared a second later, squished between them, and before Sebastian could comprehend what he was trying to do, he felt his trouser button open.

All he could do was stare empty headed at Ominis face. Brows furrowed in concentration, eyes half shut as if in a trance, he’d never before looked this beautiful.

The first contact of skin almost finished him. 

Sebastian pressed them together, chasing that feeling again and again, and then the world dissolved into nothing but Ominis bruising grip on his hips, their bodies moving together, sticky precum and his breath fogging up the window pane.

“Sebastian, I’m close-”

“Not yet.” Sebastian fumbled around for the camera, got sloppy in his movements and it made Ominis whine deliciously.

“Wait for me, just a moment.” He almost dropped it.

“Can’t-”

Seeing Ominis come undone because of him was the most beautiful moment in his life. Head tilted back, face screwed up in pure pleasure, back arched and releasing the filthiest moan.

He wanted this moment, their first time, just this once. 

Then he followed him over the edge.

They laid tangled together, their combined release on Ominis stomach seeping into Sebastian’s shirt. He shot a guilty glance to his camera, knew he shouldn’t have done it, but it was just for him- no one else would ever know, or see.

“Will you get some?” Ominis asked sleepily.

“Hmm?”

“Lube. For next time.”

Next time. “I’ll make it your Christmas gift.”

Ominis gave him a slap on the arm. 

“...that’s needlessly violent,” Sebastian complained, making sure to put an extra amount of pout in his voice.

“It’s nothing compared to what you’ll get if this-” Ominis flicked at the camera, “-ever sees the light of day.”

“Ah. You noticed?” Sebastian asked sheepishly.

“I wasn’t born yesterday.”

Sebastian snorted. “Fair enough. Probably didn’t turn out good anyway.” That earned him another slap, but he just laughed and buried his face in the crook of Ominis neck.

He’d just have to burn these moments into his memory, without the aid of his camera.

It was about time he learned to live in the present, anyway.

a/n: Thanks for reading! And Pina, I don’t know if this is at all what you had in mind, but I hope you liked it, because you’re the best and I love you ❤️ (also this is my first attempt at writing smut and I’m dying on the inside, I hope it was alright)

[phantasticworks]

Take a Picture (It'll Last Longer)

hi guys! so it occurred to me that i completely forgot to post the newest part of my new fic on tumblr when i posted it to ao3 the other day so here it is! I hope you guys enjoy this one! I've had a lot of fun working on it!

read on ao3

Words: 18.9k

Summary: Dan and Phil continue their arrangement, but are things changing?

Warnings: swearing, explicit smut, light angst

“We should go Christmas shopping,” Phil announces one afternoon. They were laying in his bed after giving each other blowjobs, and Dan was half-asleep.

“Mmf,” Dan huffs. It’s not exactly an answer. It’s not even really a response.

“Dan,” Phil whines, prodding his chest. “C’mon, it would be fun. We could go into town, get a festive drink, let the spirit of Christmas enter us.”

Dan cracks one eye open at that, giving Phil a smirk. “I don’t think I want the spirit of Christmas to be the one entering me tonight,” he says, his voice smooth.

Phil breaks out into a very predictable blush, but it’s still one of the cutest things Dan’s ever seen. “Dan!” he nearly screeches, swatting at him.

“What?” Dan cackles.

“That’s awful!” Phil shakes his head like he’s disappointed, but his eyes have gone a little wide, and Dan knows he’s thinking about what Dan has just suggested.

It’s the one thing they hadn’t yet done together. They’ve fooled around in every other possible way, but penetration has just been off the table. Until now.

“Do you want to?” Dan asks after he’s done laughing. His voice is unintentionally small. It’s not like he’s particularly nervous about this particular sex act; he’s fucked and been fucked before, but never by someone he cares this deeply for. And the part that hurts the most is that they aren’t even like that, not really.

He watches as Phil swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing against the pale skin of his neck. “Fuck,” he swears under his breath. He glances at Dan quickly, like he hadn’t mean to say it at all. “I mean- God, yeah, of course I want to,” he says.

Dan smiles, scooting closer to him and swinging a leg over Phil’s, as if they didn’t just have sex half an hour ago. “I’d let you, if you want,” he murmurs, trying for seductive. He’s not sure he’s really hit the target in his tone, but Phil swallows again, and he reckons he’s close enough.

“We should go out for dinner,” Phil blurts suddenly.

Dan pulls away a little, blinking at him. “Er… okay?”

“Yeah, we should go eat dinner, and then do some shopping, yeah?” Phil sounds nervous, and Dan can’t for the life of him figure out why. They have dinner together all the time nowadays. In fact, almost every time they see each other they wind up sharing a meal somewhere. It’s not usually at a restaurant, he concedes, the both of them horrible introverts who would much rather be inside the comfort of one of their flats, but still, it has happened.

“Sure,” Dan agrees easily. If he’s honest, dinner is the last thing on his mind.

If he can’t have Phil in the real way, in the way he so desperately wants, then he’ll take this: casual sex and friendship, until Phil no longer has a use for him. The fact that all of this has an expiration date tears at the tattered threads of Dan’s heart more and more each day, but it’s a pain he’s learning to cope with nonetheless.

He’s so deep in his own thoughts that he barely notices when Phil climbs out of the bed and makes his way to his closet. “Um, what are you doing?” Dan asks stupidly when he sees Phil pulling out what looks to be a nicer outfit.

Phil turns and gives him a look like he is stupid. “We have to get dressed if we’re going out!” he says, like it’s obvious.

“We’re going out tonight?” Dan squawks, still mostly naked and covered in slowly-drying bodily fluids.

“Yes,” Phil says, voice full of exasperation. “Go on, go take a shower, I’ll pick something out for you.” He sounds excited, but Dan can’t help but be weary.

“Phil…” He starts.

“No, no!” Phil protests. “Just go, I promise it’ll be good, I won’t pick anything you wouldn’t wear yourself!” It’s probably an empty promise, but his bright eyes and the way he dances on the balls of his feet have Dan convinced.

“Fine,” he says with a sigh, giving in. He stands to go jump in the shower, and he doesn’t miss the way Phil takes a long look at his body. “But I swear to god if you try to put me in color, I’m gonna actually kill you.”

“Fine, whatever,” Phil says, waving him off. “Go, go shower, smelly boy. Your fairy godmother needs some space to think about your outfit.”

Dan feels a tug in his chest when Phil smiles at him. He can’t help but step close and kiss him, just once, to dull the pain a little. “You’re on thin ice,” he whispers, his lips still a breath away from Phil’s.

“You have semen in your hair,” Phil murmurs back, pecking his lips.

Dan flips him off as he stomps off to the shower.

~~~

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Dan says nearly half an hour later, staring at the clothes Phil has so charitably laid out for him. The jeans are fine, black skinnies with rips new enough that he knows Phil hardly wears them. His problem lies entirely with the sweater.

The red, sparkly sweater.

“What?” Phil asks, voice pitched high in false confusion. “It’s nice!”

“I’m not wearing that,” Dan says vehemently.

“But Dan, it’s Christmas! Red is a very Christmassy color!”

“Red is Christmassy,” Dan spits. “This is- that’s fucking-“

“I call it ‘ladybird chic’,” Phil says, unhelpfully.

Dan turns, very slowly, to glare at him. “Absolutely not.”

Phil pouts. “It’ll look really good if I take any photos this evening.”

Dan swears under his breath. Stupid Phil with his stupid soft, kissable lips with their perfect Cupid’s bow. “I’m wearing a coat over it,” he says haughtily.

Phil grins proudly. “Of course,” he nods. “It’s not exactly my warmest sweater, and I don’t want you to get cold.”

Something about that makes Dan’s stomach twist sharply, a feeling he can’t name taking up all the space in his chest as he watches Phil search for a coat. He makes it so hard, sometimes, to not confess that he’s in love with him. Dan isn’t too stupid to think he’ll let himself go that far- he does have some dignity- but god Phil makes it hard.

“Will this work?” Phil asks, returning with a simple but warm-looking black coat.

Dan nods, taking it from him and setting it on the bed next to the outfit. “Thanks,” he says, his voice soft.

Phil smiles at him when he glances up. “No problem,” he says warmly, leaning in and planting a kiss on Dan’s temple. “I’m gonna hop in the shower, I’ll be right back,” he says, leaving Dan with the lingering feeling of lips and warmth.

~~~

Phil looks amazing.

That’s probably the understatement of the year, Dan thinks, but he’s at a loss for words when Phil steps into the lounge, fully dressed.

He’s got black skinny jeans on as usual, but he’s gone for a really nice grey sweater and his glasses, something Dan is always, always enamored with. He figures he’s probably fully staring at him, but Phil doesn’t seem to mind, so Dan sees no reason why he should look away. In fact, Phil seems to like it, if his smirk is anything to go by.

“Ready to go?” He asks, completely ignoring the way Dan is practically undressing him with his eyes.

“Sure,” Dan says, his voice coming out a little garbled. He clears his throat, flushing. “Let’s go.”

~~~

They end up at an Italian place, one that Dan’s never been to. It’s nice, nicer than he expected when Phil suggested they go out to dinner. It almost feels like a date, if Dan lets himself think too much about it. But he knows better than that, so of course he doesn’t let himself think about it at all.

Instead, he convinces Phil to order wine.

“Come on, I’m almost done with classes, and it’s a Friday. Shouldn’t we celebrate the end of the week?” Dan says, batting his eyelashes to really sell it. The truth is he doesn’t think he can keep his mind from drifting off into romance land if he’s not at least slightly inebriated.

Phil sighs, but nods. “Fine.” He gestures for the waitress to come back over, then points to something on the wine menu. “We’ll each do a glass of the Cabernet Sauvignon, please,” he says, tapping the name.

The waitress nods before disappearing, and Dan watches Phil as he fiddles with the menu, biting his lip in thought. “You sounded like some proper wine connoisseur, just then,” Dan says mildly, glancing over his own menu. He already knows he’s likely to get the same thing he always does at Italian restaurants, but he feels weird staring at Phil when he isn’t looking back.

Phil snorts. “Not hardly,” Phil says dryly. “Cabernet‘s just the happy medium.”

Dan tilts his head at that. “How so?” He asks.

Phil glances up at him, and his lips twitch into a smile. “Well, you like wine that’s bitter, and I like sweeter wine. You always order something with mushrooms when we do Italian, and I usually do some type of tomato-sauce pasta, so...” The waitress returns then with the bottle of wine, and Phil smiles at her. “So Cabernet is the happy medium for us.”

Dan blinks at him. Phil asks the waitress a question about something on the menu, looking completely casual, as if he didn’t just send Dan’s heart spinning. As if they just know each other that well- just fit together that well, without ever even acknowledging it.

He’s still lost in thought when the waitress turns to him with a smile. “And for you, sir?” She asks.

Dan shakes his head in an effort to clear it. “Uhh...” His mind is cloudy at the moment, and he can’t really see the menu.

“They have the mushroom risotto you like,” Phil says softly. “Is that okay?”

Dan nods dumbly. “Yeah,” he says weakly. “That’s fine, thanks.”

The waitress nods, taking their menus before leaving the table. It’s quiet then, and Dan jumps a little when he feels Phil’s foot brush against his. “Sorry,” Phil says, frowning. “Are you okay?”

Dan nods. It’s not a lie, exactly. He thinks maybe he is okay, but everything feels stilted and weird now, and the traitorous, lonely part of his brain is trying to convince him that this- this thing between him and Phil- means more than it does. “I’m fine,” he says quickly, nodding again. “Just tired, I guess.”

A brief flash of something like disbelief flashes across Phil’s face, but it’s gone in a blink. “We can just go back home after dinner, if you don’t feel like shopping.”

The word “home” plays on loop in Dan’s brain until he processes the rest of the words. “No, no, it’s fine. I’ll feel better after we eat,” he says, shrugging it off.

Phil nods, and they fall into silence again. They’ve known each other long enough now that it’s not uncomfortable, but Dan’s skin still itches with the quiet. He’s trying to think of something to say when he feels something brush his ankle. He glances up to find Phil smirking at him.

Dan quirks a brow. “Can I help you?” he asks, barely hiding a smile.

The smirk on Phil’s face just deepens, and he rubs his ankle against Dan’s. It shouldn’t feel as good as it does, but Dan’s long past the point of being surprised that everything feels better with Phil. “Nope,” Phil says, biting back a laugh.

Dan rolls his eyes. He takes a sneaky glance around them, and finds that no one is paying any attention to them. He takes that confirmation of almost-privacy and decides to be cheeky. Taking a sip of his water, he shifts his legs, trailing his foot up the length of Phil’s leg teasingly slow. He watches as Phil’s face flushes, the smirk dropping away to a look of surprise.

“Dan,” he hisses.

“What?” Dan says innocently. “You started this.”

Phil shakes his head, his hand disappearing below the table and catching Dan’s ankle in his hand before Dan can reach his destination. “Not now,” Phil murmurs.

That sends a little thrill through Dan. There’s an unspoken “later” in the air between them, and Dan recalls suddenly what he had offered earlier, when they were getting ready to leave. His blood rushes through his veins hot and fast, making him light headed.

“Are we still going to...” he trails off when the waitress approaches with their food, giving her a fake smile.

She makes sure they’re comfortable and have everything they need before leaving the table again, and by then Dan’s too distracted by his food to return to what he wanted to say.

“Fuck,” he moans around the first bite. “This is delicious.” He’s trying to mind his table manners, but the food is hot and sort of amazing, and he hasn’t eaten anything since breakfast. He really can’t help the sounds that fall from his mouth at that point.

He takes a sip of his wine to wash it down and finally glances over at Phil. His entire face is red, and he’s staring down at his plate with pursed lips. Dan blushes, realizing exactly what he sounded like. Then, he remembers their current situation, and the fact that it really shouldn’t bother Phil, hearing Dan make sexual noises. After all, they’ve been getting each other off for the past month or so, so he’s surely used to it by now.

“Sorry,” he says, despite himself. “Got a little too excited about dinner,” he explains, flickering his eyes between Phil and his plate.

Phil nods, avoiding eye contact. “Right, yeah,” he says, his voice sounding hoarse.

Dan smirks down at his plate, but decides to give Phil a break. “How’s the photo series going? Are we almost done taking photos?”

Phil looks relieved at the change of subject, and his eyes are bright when he looks up at Dan. He’s so enthusiastic about this project, just like he is with everything that he really cares about. Dan can’t help but find it ridiculously endearing.

“Almost, yeah. We’ve gotten some really great shots for experiential, but I don’t think I’ve gotten like the perfect shot for each of the other categories,” Phil says. His eyebrows furrow as he looks down, looking more than a little bothered by that.

“What’re the other categories again?”

“Intellectual, emotional, and er- sexual,” Phil says with a deep blush.

Dan smirks. “Sounds like we can knock that last one out pretty easily,” he says, only sort of teasing.

Phil’s nose goes a little pink, but he’s got a guarded look in his eye as he chases a bite of pasta around his plate. “I don’t know if I want that one to be like...” he trails off, glancing up at Dan with something soft in his eyes.

“Like...?” Dan prompts, confused.

“Like... genuine,” Phil says.

Dan blinks. “Why?”

Phil clears his throat, looking down again. “I don’t- I just- I just want you to be comfortable, yeah? And if it would make you uncomfortable to-“

“It wouldn’t,” Dan interrupts. His face immediately warms when he realizes how that must sound. “I mean... it’s what we’ve been doing this whole time, right? I’ll be no more vulnerable naked than I have been for every other candid shot you’ve done.”

Phil looks almost- disappointed, in a way. Dan can’t think of a reason why he would be, so he convinces himself that he’s probably just imagining it, that Phil is probably just thinking about the best way to shoot the more explicit photographs.

“Sure,” he says eventually, downing a few gulps of his wine. “We’ll work on that stuff- later, yeah?”

“Sure,” Dan echoes, sipping his own wine.

‘Later’ is starting to have a lot of weight.

~~~

After they’ve finished their meal and Phil has ignored Dan trying to pay for the check, they head out to see what the shops have to offer. Everything is so bright with all the twinkling lights and decorations, and Dan’s feeling just a little bit warm and fuzzy with it all. Maybe that’s why he reaches for Phil’s hand, he thinks to himself absently. It’s probably just the overwhelming excitement of it all forcing him to reach out for something to ground himself. Definitely not his deep attraction and infatuation with his best friend.

Right?

Either way, for whatever reason on both their parts, Phil doesn’t pull away at the touch. Instead he laces their fingers together, swinging their hands between them as they meander down the busy streets. It feels safe, with so many strangers surrounding them, to share a touch like this in public. No one here knows them, any looks cast their way are forgotten the moment the gawker looks away.

“Ooh, mulled wine!” Phil announces after a while of aimless wandering. He tugs Dan in the direction of the stall he’s laid his eye on, and Dan allows himself to be dragged. “Do you like mulled wine?” Phil asks as they stand in line to order.

Dan shrugs. “Yeah, it’s alright.” He wants to say something about how it would taste better coming from Phil’s lips, but he thankfully restrains himself from going that far.

Phil rambles on about something that happened to him a few years ago, something about spilling cider all over a guy he worked with that he also had a crush on. Dan’s trying to listen but he keeps getting distracted by the rosy patches on Phil’s face, his frostbitten cheeks looking more kissable than ever.

“We’ll have two mulled wines, please,” Phil says to the sweet older lady tending the booth.

She smiles and nods as she goes about preparing them, and Dan doesn’t even have the chance to reach for his wallet before Phil is sliding a few notes across to her. “Have a good evening! Happy Christmas!” the shop lady says with a happy wave after she hands them their drinks.

“Thanks, you too,” Phil replies with a smile, taking Dan’s hand again and leading them over to a set of benches situated around a massive tree. “Mm, this is really good for the spot,” Phil hums happily, slurping on his mulled wine.

Dan gives him an odd look as they sit together. “Good for the spot?” he repeats.

Phil nods. “Yeah, you know. That thing people say when something tastes good.” He looks so sure of himself, and Dan sort of hates to burst his bubble, but it’s basically his duty as a citizen to do so.

“You mean “hits the spot,” right?”

Phil blinks. “Er...” He seems to consider it for a lot longer than Dan thinks is necessary, and finally he shrugs. “Okay, maybe. Maybe that’s what I meant.”

Dan cackles out a laugh at this, dropping his head back with unabashed glee. “Oh god,” he giggles. “You’re such an idiot.”

Luckily they’ve grown comfortable enough with each other that Phil’s not really offended. He pretends, though, knocking their shoulders together with a pout. “You have to be nice to be. I bought you dinner and mulled wine.”

That makes Dan’s skin prickle just a bit. “Right...” he says, looking down. He knows Phil didn’t say that with the intentions of making him feel guilty, but he can’t help what he feels. “About that, actually,” Dan starts.

“Hm?”

“I wish you’d let me pay for something. Like dinner, or the wine, or something, you know?” He looks down at his hands wrapped around his cup, flicking the plastic lid with his thumbnail. “I’m not entirely useless.”

Phil makes a startled, hurt noise in his throat. “Dan, I never said you were. I don’t- listen, I paid because... well, I dragged you here, didn’t I?” He shifts awkwardly, and won’t meet Dan’s eye. If Dan didn’t know any better, he’d say Phil seemed sort of nervous.

“You hardly did any dragging,” Dan says with a roll of his eyes. “I wanted to come. Believe it or not, I genuinely enjoy spending time with you.”

Phil looks surprised, and Dan snorts. He feels like it’s really hardly a shock that he enjoys spending time with him; if Phil was only slightly less oblivious, he’d have already realized that Dan’s got feelings for him.

“Oh,” Phil says, stupidly.

Dan knocks their shoulders together. “Yeah, oh,” he mocks, his voice gentler than he meant it to be. “I’m just saying, you should let me pay for stuff now and again. It’s not going to break me.”

Phil nods, but looks down, mumbling something under his breath. It sounded like “I like taking care of you,” and that sends Dan’s heart beating so fast that he can’t even ask Phil to repeat himself. If that wasn’t what he said, well, Dan wants to be ignorant for now, and live in that bliss.

“Shall we do some shopping?” Dan asks, changing the subject. He’s drained nearly half his mulled wine already, and the warmth of the alcohol is making its way to his veins, making him giddy with energy.

“Yeah, but first...” He hands Dan his cup, which is almost completely empty already, and grabs his camera.

Dan rolls his eyes. “Is this really a photo-worthy moment?” he asks, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Phil smirks at him over the camera. “Of course it is. Now smile!”

Dan looks directly over the camera, straight into Phil’s eyes. He’s not really smiling, but he’s not frowning either. He’s just... looking at him. The camera flashes once, then twice, and then Phil lowers it, looking back at Dan with something almost wild in his eyes. Dan hands him his cup back silently, and purposefully brushes their fingers together. Something settles in Phil’s expression then, and he gives Dan a soft look before downing the rest of his drink.

“Shall we?” he says as he stands, holding a hand out for Dan to take. The smile he gives him when Dan does is gorgeous and makes every photo worth it.

~~~

Dan allows himself to be led in and out of shops for the next two hours, and Phil takes plenty of photos along the way. He takes photos of Dan window shopping, walking, admiring decorations; basically any move Dan makes, Phil captures. And Dan knows he agreed to this, he knows that it’s all for Phil’s project, but after a while, he grows tired of it.

Eventually, Dan turns to him and gives him a withering look. “Can we put the camera away and just be us for a little while?” He doesn’t intend for his voice to be so soft, but he can barely hear it as it floats in the air between them.

Phil lowers the camera with a strange look on his face. “Yeah?” he asks, like he’s surprised.

Dan nods, and before he can think twice about it, he reaches out and laces their fingers together. “C’mon, I saw a nerd shop over there that I want to check out.”

Before he gets the chance to turn away, Phil darts into his space, kissing the corner of his mouth softly. It’s over so quickly that Dan almost thinks he may have imagined it, simply because Phil looks so calm and confident afterwards. He simply squeezes Dan’s hand and leads him in the direction of the shop, and Dan feels like he’s been left to play catch-up, not for the first time today.

“Hey, look at this,” Phil says suddenly, when they’re almost to the shop. He slows to a stop, his eyes scanning over a bulletin board posted on the bit of brick wall between the windows of the game shop and the bakery next door. “Dan, look!” He taps Dan’s arm excitedly as he speaks, as if Dan’s not already looking at the poster.

“Open Auditions” it announces at the top. Dan’s heart quickens, just slightly. A quick scan of information confirms what he’d already gathered: a local theatre company is holding open auditions for their upcoming performance of Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice.

Dan’s heart races and his vision has gone slightly fuzzy as he tries to take in the information. He can barely focus on anything, his ears ringing with the possibilities. This could be it, a little voice in his head mocks. An escape from the life you don’t want, a chance to be more.

It takes him a minute to come back to his senses, and when he does Phil is rambling excitedly beside him. “-great this is, Dan, you’ve got to audition, this would be perfect for you!”

Dan shakes his head slowly, trying to clear the cloud of fantasy that’s infiltrated his mind. “No,” he says eventually. He forces himself to look away, reminds himself that life isn’t a fairytale. He chose this shitty career and this shitty life, he can’t just back out now. His parents may have raised a socially awkward, queer procrastinator but they didn’t raise a quitter.

“No?” Phil says the word like it’s foreign. “What do you mean, I thought you wanted to act again if you got the chance?” He sounds confused.

Dan shrugs, avoiding eye contact with Phil as he shuffles his feet, moving further from the bright poster. “Yeah, but... come on, this? It’s not very responsible, is it?”

Phil blinks at him, glancing at the poster like it has the answers he needs. “Er- how do you mean?” he asks carefully.

Dan hates that. He hates that he’s ruining their nice day with his bullshit. “Well, I’ve got class, don’t I? And like, work, and shit. I can’t - I don’t have time for this.”

There’s a brief moment of pause where Phil looks at him, then studies the poster again, clearly thinking hard about something. “The auditions are next week, so I bet the rehearsals start after you’re done with classes.”

Dan tells that little stirring of hope in his chest to pipe down. Instead, he shrugs, like he couldn’t care less about the whole thing. “Whatever. Are we going in? It’s fucking freezing out here.”

Phil nods and gestures to the store, so Dan turns to lead the way. He notices Phil doesn’t move to hold his hand again, and he pretends that doesn’t hurt his feelings. When he opens the door he glances behind him, and Phil is still a few steps away, like he’d stood there for a minute before following after Dan. Dan can’t imagine why, and decides it’s better not to think about that at all.

He waves Phil in ahead of him, and spares one last look at the poster before following after Phil and into the shop.

~~~

Dan would love to pretend that he stops thinking about the audition flyer by the time they make it back to Phil’s place, but it would be a lie. It’s still there, in the back of his mind, mocking him with the possibilities.

So he does what any reasonable adult would do.

He immediately jumps at the opportunity to get in Phil’s pants.

It’s not like it’s difficult at this point in their... situation, but he still finds part of him is reluctant to be the one to make the first move, if only because he’s scared of rejection. But this time, like so many times before, Phil indulges him.

“Oh,” Phil laughs as Dan pushes at his coat, his voice deep and sexy like it always is at the end of a long day, when he’s truly worn out. Dan can’t believe he has the privilege of knowing exactly what this sounds like. “Eager, are we?”

Dan latches his mouth onto Phil’s jaw, sucking gently as he shoves the stupid coat off of Phil’s shoulders. “Wanna fuck you,” he mumbles against Phil’s chin, loving the prickly feeling of almost-beard under his mouth.

Phil makes a good noise then, a horny one that Dan doesn’t get to hear nearly often enough. “Can we- bed?” he mumbles out around Dan’s mouth, which has finally found its way to Phil’s.

“Mhm,” Dan mumbles, guiding Phil backwards blindly.

This proves to be a bad idea when he leads him into a wall approximately five seconds later, but luckily, Phil is able to laugh it off. “I’m fine,” he mumbles, pulling Dan back against him once more and kissing across his cheeks. “Let me lead,” he whispers.

Dan allows that, following Phil as he shuffles them backwards down the hall towards his bedroom, their lips barely parting the whole way there. It’s sloppy and messy, but it’s hot, too, unbearably so. Dan is so turned on by the time they step foot in Phil’s room, he’s half afraid he won’t even make it to the good part.

Luckily, Phil trips right before they reach the bed, and the resulting stumble-almost-fall is enough to calm Dan down a little. He’s giggling against Phil’s mouth as they right themselves, and Phil is struggling to mumble an apology around the kisses he’s receiving.

“Dan,” he manages, thumping on Dan’s chest a little, just enough to get Dan’s attention and make him pull away for a second. Phil catches his breath and then smiles at Dan, a wide, gorgeous thing. “Slow down, baby. We’ve got all night.”

It’s said so softly, so lovingly, that Dan thinks he’s going to cry. So, instead of listening, he throws that caution to the wind and leans in for another kiss, his hands dropping to undo Phil’s belt. Phil makes a little noise in his throat, and Dan feels gentle hands pull at his wrists, pulling his hands away from where they’re struggling to undo the fasteners on Phil’s jeans. Dan whines and tugs at the grip, trying to free his hands, but he hears a soft shushing noise as Phil breaks the kiss.

Dan doesn’t realize it at first, but when they’re no longer kissing, he feels a dampness on his cheeks. Frustrated, he wipes at the traitorous tears, but at the same time, Phil’s hands come into view, gently wiping the tears away as he murmurs soft words. Dan struggles to make them out at first, his breathing gone hard and ragged. He tries to settle himself, and Phil tugs at his hand, settling it on his own chest like he wants Dan to copy his breathing. He does, and when he finally calms down, Dan can make out what Phil’s saying.

“Shh, there we go. It’s okay, baby. You’re okay. You’re okay.”

It’s said in such a soft, soothing voice that Dan almost starts crying again. This can’t be meaningless. Even though he knows Phil doesn’t feel anything for him like that, some part of him is just begging for this moment to have some kind of meaning, something that means Phil wants him. But wishing can’t change the truth, and he knows that.

“I’m sorry,” he says eventually, his voice raw.

Phil makes a startled noise. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” he says. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I know, but like... crying is so not sexy.” Dan feels embarrassed just to say it.

“I don’t know,” Phil muses. “I think showing your emotions is kinda hot.” He gives Dan a smirk then, and Dan barely refrains from pushing him off the bed. The only reason he doesn’t is because of how much he craves the closeness.

“Did I ruin the mood?” Dan asks timidly, sitting up in Phil’s lap to give him some space.

Phil smiles, but shakes his head. “I don’t think so. Do you still want to...” His face flushes then, like he can’t even bring himself to say the words.

Dan grins. “I definitely still want to fuck you. If you still want that.”

“I do,” Phil says quickly. Dan smirks and Phil blushes. “I just... it’s been a while since I’ve done that, so...”

Dan nods easily. “Do you need some space to get ready?”

Phil looks relieved. “Please?”

Nodding again, Dan leans down and kisses him sweetly. “Of course. I’ll go sit in the lounge while you do what you need to do.”

“Thank you,” Phil says softly, leaning up to peck Dan’s lips once more. “I won’t be long.”

With that reassurance, and a dismissive pat on the bum, Dan sees himself out of the room, going to wait in the lounge like he’d promised while Phil showers and does whatever else he needs to do to feel comfortable with how the evening is proceeding.

~~~

“Dan?”

Phil’s voice is more than welcome in the quiet of the lounge, but it still makes Dan jump a bit. He’d been lost in thought again, pondering over the amount of time they’ve spent together lately and trying to count in his head how many nights he’d spent at Phil’s over the last month. He’d just made it to thirteen when he hears Phil’s voice.

“Yeah?” Dan calls back, already rising from the sofa.

“Can you come here?” Phil replies, his voice a bit quieter. If Dan didn’t know any better, he’d almost say he sounded nervous.

When Dan steps into Phil’s bedroom, he nearly coos. Phil’s turned the overhead light off and lit a couple of candles, and he’s even got music playing from somewhere. It’s all very relaxing, and something about it feels sort of romantic. Dan bats that thought away immediately before it does something stupid, like settle in his already lovesick mind.

“Is this okay?” Phil asks, and Dan’s gaze snaps over to where Phil’s sat at the edge of the bed. Dan hadn’t even registered him sitting there at first, his mind trying to wrap around the way the room is set up. Phil definitely looks nervous, tugging at the hem of his sushi-printed boxers and avoiding eye contact. “I just thought... I don’t know, actually.”

“It’s nice,” Dan murmurs, going to join Phil on the bed. He’s trying to be considerate of the conversation they’re having, but honestly it’s a little hard considering Phil is practically naked, and god Dan loves to look at him. He nudges Phil’s knee with his own, prompting him to make eye contact. “It’s really lovely.”

Phil smiles, pleased. Something darkens in his gaze then, and before Dan has a chance to decipher that look, Phil is climbing onto his lap and gently pushing him to lay flat against the mattress. “This okay?” He murmurs as he kisses his way across Dan’s jaw.

Dan swallows hard, the kissing and weight of Phil on his lap sending heat to his groin. “Yeah,” he chokes out. “This is... fuck, this is perfect.”

Phil makes a humming sort of noise before finally pressing his lips to Dan’s, swiping his tongue against Dan’s bottom lip. Of course Dan opens up for him, feeling that tongue slip in easily. This is possibly Dan’s favorite kind of kissing, the kind that’s wet and maybe a little bit messy. It just feels good, in a way most things don’t.

Eventually, Dan’s hands trail over Phil’s pale back, tracing shapes down his spine with a featherlight touch before reaching his destination. Dan isn’t like, a hundred percent sure, but he’s actually pretty positive that Phil’s got the nicest bum in the world. It’s thick and soft and gives easily under the pressure of his kneading fingers.

“You’ve got the nicest ass,” Dan murmurs to Phil, pulling away just enough to get the words out properly.

Phil laughs against Dan’s neck, and Dan can’t help the full body tremor that happens when he feels pressure on the sensitive skin. “Do you want to fuck it?” Phil asks, in a voice that’s almost innocent.

Dan groans, kneading his cheeks with more purpose. “God. Yeah, I do. Can I?” He knows they’ve sort of already discussed this, but Phil’s allowed to change his mind.

“Of course,” Phil says with a little smile. He leans back, trailing his hands down Dan’s clothed chest before tucking his hands under his borrowed sweater and stroking the skin there. “Take your clothes off, babe.”

Dan feels a tingle down to his toes at the pet name, and has to remind himself very quickly to get a fucking grip. They’re just friends, this is just a friendly fuck. A mutual benefits kind of deal.

Maybe if he says it enough in his head, he’ll start to believe it.

He’s quick to discard of Phil’s stupid ladybird sweater, throwing it across the room blindly, which unsurprisingly earns him a pinch to the hip. “Don’t be rude to my favorite jumper, Daniel,” Phil chastises, a smile in his voice.

Dan’s got a retort on the tip of his tongue, but he bites it in favor of arching up into the way Phil’s stroking his chest, his thumbs catching on Dan’s nipples repeatedly. “Fuck. C’mere,” Dan mumbles, tugging Phil down by his neck. They’ve had enough sex together for Phil to know what he wants, so he goes easily, latching that wonderful mouth around a pink nub and sucking gently.

The sounds that fall out of Dan’s mouth are too loud in the quiet of the room, but if Phil wants him to be quiet, he’s got a funny way of showing it. Instead he reaches for Dan’s jeans, thumbing at the zipper without looking. He’s got them unlatched in seconds, pushing at the material like it offends him.

“Let me-“ Dan mumbles, pushing at Phil’s shoulders. Phil bites down on his nipple then, and Dan keens. It’s never felt so good before, but when they’re like this, it’s never better. “Fuck, fuck,” Dan chants, holding onto his willpower by a thread.

“You will,” Phil mumbles against his skin, kissing his way across to Dan’s other nipple, which has been quite ignored so far. In a feat of coordination Dan wouldn’t have thought him capable of, Phil manages to shuffle his lower half enough to yank Dan’s jeans down past his thighs without stopping the movements of his mouth.

If Dan wasn’t so stupidly turned on, he’d probably say something about how impressed he is.

Phil massages Dan’s thighs with gentle pressure for a while, kissing and sucking and biting at Dan’s nipple all the while. Dan is leaking through his pants at this point, and he makes a very pathetic sort of noise when Phil brushes a hand over his cock.

When Phil pulls away, it gives Dan just a brief moment to recover, but he still squirms under the heat of Phil’s gaze. “What?” Dan finally asks, when Phil won’t stop staring at him.

Phil shakes his head slowly, blinking like he’s coming out of a dream. Dan is positive that it shouldn't be as hot as it actually is. “You’re so gorgeous,” Phil murmurs, rubbing gently over Dan’s thigh.

Dan covers his blushing face with a squeak. He’ll never get used to this naked appreciation that Phil has for his body. A traitorous corner of his mind reminds him that he better not get used to something he’s not even allowed to keep. Dan clears his throat, twitching his head like he can shake the thought away.

“You know...” he starts slowly, a certain conversation coming back to him. “You said that part of the photo series was about sex, right?”

Phil freezes a little then. He’s quick to recover, but not quick enough for Dan not to notice it. “Sexual intimacy,” he corrects, his voice soft. “What about it?”

Dan shifts his hips pointedly. “I think this might be prime photo taking time, bub,” he jokes.

Something shifts in Phil’s face, and he stares down at Dan like he’s grown a second head. “You want me to take them now?” He asks.

Dan shrugs. “Might as well. We’re horny, and all. Kind of makes sense, doesn’t it?”

Phil draws his hands away from Dan’s thighs, and Dan immediately craves his touch again. “I thought you... I thought we were going to...”

“Fuck? Well, that’s the plan, yeah. Doesn’t mean you can’t get your photo thing done too. Two birds, one stone.” Dan doesn’t intend to sound so tetchy, but Phil’s hesitation is getting under his skin. Has he changed his mind? Is Dan’s body not good enough to be photographed in the light of intimacy? His head swirls with self doubt as he sits up. “Look, we don’t have to, but-“

Phil stops him with a hand on his shoulder. “No, we... that’s okay. I’ll, um... let me grab my camera.” His voice sounds wobbly all of a sudden, and Dan frowns.

“Phil, I-“

“It’s fine,” Phil interrupts, climbing off the bed. His face is horribly neutral, and Dan feels a churning, the bad kind, in his stomach.

He watches, wordlessly, as Phil leaves the room, returning a few minutes later with the fancy camera he totes around with them nearly everywhere they go. Dan tries not to glare at the stupid thing. Phil climbs back onto the bed and goes to straddle Dan’s lap again, clicking different things on the camera before holding it up. “Tilt your head,” he says softly.

Dan does, but Phil makes a tutting noise like it’s not what he wanted. Before Dan can ask for better instructions, Phil shifts forward, the movement effectively causing their hips to grind together. Dan can’t help his very human response, tossing his head back with a quiet moan. He hears the camera shutter, and for some reason his skin crawls. He tries to ignore it in favor of grinding up for more of that delicious pressure, reaching out blindly to grip Phil’s hips and pull him closer.

The camera goes off a few more times, but eventually Phil leans away and Dan hears the sound of it being set gently onto Phil’s bedside table. Dan opens his eyes, glancing around until he catches Phil’s gaze. Something has changed. Phil’s got a guarded look in his eye, and Dan feels his stomach clenching with nerves.

“Phil,” he whispers, reaching up and stroking Phil’s cheek gently. He watches as Phil’s eyes slip shut and he leans into the touch. Dan breathes out a sigh of relief at that. It’s a gamble, sometimes, showing even the slightest amount of affection. Because no matter how Phil reacts, Dan has to remember to keep his guard up, protect himself first and worry about the consequences of it all later.

“I want you,” Phil breathes against Dan’s palm.

“You have me,” is Dan’s immediate response. Even if it’s a lie, it’s a lie he feels comfortable telling, as long as it settles whatever is making Phil look so despondent.

Phil blinks at him, raising an eyebrow like a question. Dan nods. It’s worth it for the smile it puts on Phil’s face, for the way he looks down at Dan like he’s given him the world. It’s worth it even though it tears a hole in Dan’s chest. Phil presses a gentle kiss to Dan’s palm then, and Dan knows he’s absolutely fucked.

“How do you normally like it?” Phil asks, pulling away and doing an odd little wiggle to free himself from his pants. Even as ridiculous as he looks, Dan is naturally very distracted at the sight of his cock, and it takes him a second to process what Phil said.

“Oh, uh,” Dan says stupidly. Phil is looking at him with a smug little smirk, and Dan begs his brain to stop being so fucking gay, for like two seconds. “I’m not picky,” he eventually comes up with.

Phil’s lips twitch. “Really?”

Dan nods, watching the way Phil sits up on his knees and begins tugging at Dan’s jeans, which until this moment, Dan had honestly forgotten he was still wearing. “I’m easy,” he says, trying for a flirty tone but not quite getting there.

Phil snorts. He finally pushes the jeans down to Dan’s ankles, leaving Dan to finish kicking them off, paying no mind to how they crumple to the floor in a sad little heap. “Do you think you can handle it if I ride you?” Phil asks, tilting his head.

Dan’s not sure if he wants to laugh or moan. “Uh, yeah,” he stutters out stupidly.

“You sure?” Phil gives him a doubtful look. Dan almost bristles, but then Phil’s hand is diving under the band of his pants and wrapping around his hardness, and Dan can’t find it in himself to even be mildly offended.

“Fuck,” Dan whines. “Yes, just let me-” Dan wiggles helplessly, trying to push his pants off with the use of only one hand. His other is clutching Phil’s thigh, trying to keep himself under control while Phil wanks him.

Phil laughs quietly as he watches Dan struggle but he finally pushes at Dan’s pants, freeing him from them at last. “Are you comfy there?”

Dan nods, but flails an arm above his head in search of a pillow. Phil rolls his eyes and reaches out, tugging on the pillow Dan normally uses when he sleeps over. He pats at Dan’s shoulder to get him to sit up, and when he does, Phil gently places the pillow under his head before pushing his shoulders back down. “Better?” Phil asks.

“Yeah,” Dan says with a smile. “C’mere.” He tugs at Phil’s body, trying to manhandle him onto himself. Phil giggles, like actually giggles, as he complies, straddling Dan’s hips like before. Their nakedness is hard to ignore now, especially when Phil settles, their cocks rubbing together without a barrier between them. Dan groans, squeezing his eyes shut at the feeling.

“You okay?” Phil asks, rocking his hips gently.

Dan swats at him lightly, with absolutely no force behind it. “Don’t be a tease, you know I hate that,” he complains.

Phil grins. “I know you pretend to hate it,” he says, leaning down and kissing Dan’s mouth wetly.

Dan loses himself in it for a bit, forgetting to defend himself entirely. Instead he arches into the kiss and strokes his hands down Phil’s back, trailing his fingers down until he reaches the small of Phil’s back. He pauses there, stroking his fingertips up and down, but Phil arches, making a needy little noise in his throat, and Dan grins, pulling away from the kiss to speak. “Yeah?”

Phil nods, his eyelids fluttering shut. “Yeah. Touch me.”

Dan certainly doesn’t have to be told twice. He pushes his hands down further, kneading Phil’s ass cheeks with a firm hand. Phil groans, pressing back into the touch, and Dan feels a hot surge of arousal in his gut. It’s so beyond sexy for Phil to be on top of him like this, and then for him to be making those noises... Dan can hardly stand it.

“Condom?” He breathes against Phil’s jaw, trailing wet kisses along the smooth expanse of skin. Part of Dan wishes it was a bit stubbled, and then he’s wishing that he’d had the foresight to ask for something a little different. He’s never personally experienced it, but he’s heard good things about being rimmed by someone with facial hair, and he thinks if Phil put off shaving for a couple days, he’d be well on his way to a decent beard.

Dan shakes himself out of his horny fantasy when Phil moves off his lap. The whine that comes out of Dan’s mouth is embarrassing at best, and Phil rolls his eyes when Dan makes grabby hands for him. “Calm down, you actual goblin,” Phil chastises as he looks through the top drawer of his nightstand.

When he finds what he’s looking for he makes a little trumpet noise. Dan’s so endeared with him that it’s actually kind of ridiculous. Phil smiles at him with the same little happy grin he gets sometimes when he makes Dan smile, and Dan reaches out for him. His hand finds Phil’s thigh, and Dan scratches at the hair there while he watches Phil fight with the corner of the condom package.

“Need some help?” Dan asks, his voice softer than he’d intended.

Phil huffs, but shoves the packet into Dan’s hand with an adorably frustrated noise. “Stupid plastic,” he mumbles.

Dan nods as he rips the corner off easily. “Bad for the turtles,” he says mindlessly.

When he glances up, Phil is smiling at him stupidly. “Yeah,” he says, his tone affectionate. “Bad for the turtles.”

Dan grins and gets to work rolling the condom on, squinting when he realizes that it’s a bright blue color. “Uh, is this gonna like dye my dick blue or something, mate?”

Phil scrunches his face up in adorable disgust at that. “Okay, first of all- ew. Don’t call me “mate” when we’re...” he gestures between them pointedly, making eyes at Dan’s penis. “Secondly, no, you weirdo. Your dick will be fine, I just thought they were neat.”

He’s got a little flush on his cheeks when he’s finished with his rant, and Dan has to bite his tongue to keep himself from cooing at him. “Okay, babe, whatever you say,” Dan says, mostly teasing.

Phil bites his lip, but Dan can tell that the pet name does something to him. It may just come from a point of arousal instead of affection, but Dan will take what he can get. “Here,” Phil says, grabbing Dan’s hand and putting something in it.

When Dan looks down, he’s met with a bottle of lube, and he smirks. “You don’t want to put it on me?”

It was meant as a joke, but Phil’s nose crinkles like the idea disgusts him. Dan tries not to take offense. “I don’t like the texture,” he admits. “That’s why I prefer to, like, prepare in the shower. It’s cleaner and I can just wash the lube off my hands right there.”

Dan nods in understanding. Phil was a bit peculiar about textures of things that he touched. “Maybe next time I can help you out with that?” He means for it to come out as a sexy suggestion, but halfway through the sentence he loses his nerve and it comes out as more of a nervous question.

Phil leans down and kisses his shoulder. “Yeah,” he says simply. Then he nudges Dan’s hand. “Alright, get to work, I’m not getting any younger.” He waggles his eyebrows as he says this, making Dan snort.

“Bossy,” he mumbles as he pours a dollop of lube onto his hand. He tries not to feel watched as he covers himself with it, but he can feel Phil’s eyes on him like a touch. Instead of psyching himself out, he leans into the feeling, giving himself a couple good wanks before drawing his hand back. “Reckon that’s enough?” He asks as Phil settles in his lap again.

Phil shrugs. “You can add more if it isn’t,” he says with a cheeky grin.

Dan rolls his eyes, but Phil’s already sitting up and looking at him expectantly, so Dan reaches down, carefully guiding himself to Phil’s waiting hole. He grips Phil’s hip with his free hand, smiling when Phil reaches down to grip his wrist in a loose hold. They’re both quiet when Dan presses into Phil for the first time, almost holding their breath. It takes Dan a second to realize that Phil actually is holding his breath and he moves his hand to hold Phil’s, squeezing gently.

“Breathe, baby.”

Phil takes in a noisy breath, and his body relaxes enough for Dan to push inside past the first tight ring of muscle. He’s already sweating, the pressure he feels around the head of his cock absolutely maddening already. “Thrust up a bit,” Phil whispers, balancing himself with one hand on Dan’s chest, his other still kept in Dan’s grip.

Dan immediately obliges, pausing only to decipher the noise Phil makes when he bottoms out. “You okay?” He whispers, reaching up and stroking Phil’s chest in a soothing sort of way.

“Yeah,” Phil breathes, nodding. “It’s just, like... been a while.”

It’s stupid how happy those words make Dan. “Same,” he murmurs, trailing his hand up and petting at Phil’s collarbones.

Phil smiles down at him, shifting his hips a little to get used to the stretch. He leans down slowly, taking care not to disrupt the position, and peppers Dan’s face with kisses, only some of them landing on his lips. It feels like so much, all of this affection while he’s buried balls deep inside his best friend, and as much as Dan craves it, he can feel himself beginning to suffocate underneath it all.

Gently, so as not to hurt or surprise Phil, Dan reaches down to grip his hips, pulling out a little ways and thrusting back in. Phil moans against his cheek, and Dan smiles. “Good?” He asks, just to make sure.

“Yes,” Phil whispers. “Right- right there!” He nearly squeals the last part as Dan thrusts a few more times, keeping his angle. He must’ve managed to find Phil’s prostate like this, so he reaches one hand up to grip the back of Phil’s neck, holding him in place.

“You feel so good,” Dan whispers. It’s the truth, Phil always feels good whether they’re sharing a kiss, giving each other blowjobs, or just brushing shoulders as they sit on the couch watching a film. He realizes with a start that as incredible as this is, this isn’t even his favorite way to feel Phil, not by far.

“Mm,” Phil moans, barely coherent. Dan looks at him and smirks when he sees how out of it Phil is, watery, hooded eyes and his teeth digging into his bottom lip in a very Dan-esque fashion. “Meant to be riding you, though,” Phil finds enough brain cells to mutter.

Dan pulls him in for a wet kiss. He can’t not, not with Phil looking like this sat on his cock. When he releases him, he does so completely, tossing his arms over his head to rest on the pillow. He settles Phil with a challenging look. “Okay, so what am I doing all of the work for?”

Phil narrows his eyes at him as he sits up. “You lazy git,” he says, with no bite in his voice.

Dan smirks. “I could say the same about you.”

“Pft.” Phil seems to take this as a personal challenge, steadying himself on Dan’s chest with both hands before he begins moving his hips, doing little bounces at first before eventually abandoning that to grind in tight little circles.

Dan moans. Loudly.

“Fuck.”

“Shh, my neighbors will hear us,” Phil chastises.

Dan groans. “Fuck the fucking neighbors.” He grips Phil’s hips, digging his thumbs in a bit harder than he normally would, and he would probably feel bad if he had the brain capacity to think about it.

“Nah, I don’t think I will,” Phil says smugly.

Dan wants to roll his eyes in annoyance, but Phil just feels too good. He can’t focus on anything but tight, wet heat and searing blue eyes. “God. Make me come,” he grunts, grinding up into Phil. They’d been having sex together long enough that Dan knows Phil doesn’t mind him being a little bossy.

Phil shakes his head though, grinning. “Me first,” he says, grabbing Dan’s hand and pulling it over to his neglected cock. Dan’s pleasantly surprised to find that it’s only flagged a little, still mostly hard. It only takes him a couple of strokes to get him back to full hardness, but then Phil whines like he’s in pain.

“What?” Dan asks, immediately releasing him and stilling his hips. “Are you okay?”

Phil pouts. “It’s getting all tacky and drying out,” he complains.

It takes Dan’s horn-driven brain a second to understand what he’s talking about. “Oh, hang on, let me-“ he reaches blindly until his hand discovers the discarded bottle of lube, and he pats Phil’s hip with his dry hand so he’ll climb off for a second. As Dan’s lathering himself back up, he notices Phil rubbing at his thighs. “You alright?

“Yeah. Little tired though. My thighs hurt.” Phil gives him an apologetic smile.

Dan returns the smile easily. “That’s fine. Do you wanna try this a different way?”

Phil gives him a sheepish look. “Do you mind?”

He’s so considerate. Dan cares for him more than he wants to admit. “Not at all. How about...” he shuffles around on the bed, moving the pillow further up so that it’s out of the way. “Do you want to lay down or would you be okay on all fours?”

It’s funny, the horny expression that crosses Phil’s face as he considers the options. “I think... for now I think I'll lay down. I’m so out of shape, and my legs already feel a bit like jelly.”

Dan giggles. “Alright. Well, get comfy, then.”

As Phil settles himself on his back, he seems to be mulling something over. “I do want to try the- the other one. Like, some other time, obviously, but I do want to try it like that as well.” He sounds nervous, even shy, and Dan feels it settle somewhere in his chest.

“Sure,” he says quietly. He settles himself between Phil’s legs, running his hands up Phil’s calves and stopping at his knees. “You think you can be flexible for me?”

Phil nods. Dan helps him settle back, then brings both of his legs over Dan’s shoulders. Phil looks a little ridiculous, but he grins up at Dan, so Dan smiles back, tilting his head to kiss his knee. He curses himself afterwards, at the soft look Phil gives him. He’s probably already thinking of ways to distance himself from Dan, to tell Dan that they really should just finish the stupid photo series then never speak to each other again.

At least, that’s what’s running through Dan’s head at first. After a moment, however, Phil distracts him again by speaking in a soft voice.

“Are you okay?”

Dan can’t help but smile down at him. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

Phil tilts his head. He looks like a curious puppy. Dan keeps that thought to himself.

“About what?”

Dan nearly freezes at the innocent question, but reminds himself to stay calm to avoid suspicion. Instead of telling the whole truth, he smirks, reaching down to press his fingers to Phil’s perineum. “You,” he half-lies.

Phil smiles, his eyelids fluttering shut as Dan applies gentle pressure. “Mm. Might wanna start doing me instead of thinking about me, Howell. Running out of time, here.”

Dan knows that Phil’s just joking about it being late, but that cuts deep. He really is running out of time, already. This may be the last time he ever gets to have Phil like this, even if it’s technically the first.

“Hey,” Phil murmurs. Dan’s eyes refocus on him, and Phil smiles, a little twitch of his lips. “Come back,” he says.

Dan smiles at him. “I’m here,” he replies.

Phil reaches up, stroking Dan’s arms in gentle sweeps. “No. You were stuck in your head. Get out of there, come be with me for a little while.”

It’s stupid, but for a moment Dan thinks he might cry.

Instead, he leans down, pressing a kiss to Phil’s mouth. “I’m with you,” he murmurs, reaching down to line himself back up.

Phil gasps against his mouth when Dan presses back inside, but it’s a good noise, Dan thinks. “Mm,” Phil hums. “This is better.”

“Yeah?” Dan asks, grinning.

Phil nods, twirling his fingers around a curling piece of Dan’s hair. “I can feel you even deeper like this,” he murmurs, sounding inexplicably fond.

Dan makes a noise that’s somewhere between a whine and a whimper, and Phil tugs at his hair, pulling him down for a kiss. Dan slows his thrusting to a grind so they don’t knock their teeth together too much, and Phil opens his mouth up for him with a soft noise.

It’s softer like this, Dan realizes. They’re slow and careful as they drag fingers over damp skin and press kisses to any place they can reach. Dan’s never been a fan of the term, but this feels more like making love than anything he’s ever heard described in any movie or book.

He’s quick to bat that thought away though. If there’s one thing he understands about their arrangement, it’s that this is temporary.

He doesn’t want to think about that right now, though. Not when Phil is squeezing around him so tightly and he’s making these sounds, like he feels just as good as Dan does. So instead he does what any sensible person would do, sitting up and reaching down to take Phil’s dripping cock in his hand.

Phil keens, and Dan hides his pleased smile against Phil’s knee. “Good?” He asks softly.

Phil nods jerkily. “Really good,” he breathes. “Just, ah-“ he flaps his hand vaguely. “Bit dry.”

“Oh, hang on.” Dan pulls his hand away in search of the lube, but keeps idly thrusting his hips while he searches the sheets for it. Phil whines, and Dan glances down at him with a smirk. “There it is,” he says, brandishing the little bottle triumphantly when he spots it near Phil’s shoulder.

“Pour some more on you, too,” Phil says, reaching up to hold his thighs close to his chest so Dan can pull out.

Dan nods, resting a hand against the back of one of Phil’s thighs as he dribbles a bit over the length of his cock, pushing back in gently and glancing up at Phil to gauge his reaction. “Is that good enough?” He asks.

“Yeah,” Phil nods, gripping at his own hair. “I just don’t like the drag when it starts drying out.”

Dan smiles. He loves learning all these little intricacies about his favorite person. “You like it wet, no shame in that,” he teases, pouring a dollop on his hand and tossing the bottle to the side before wrapping Phil up in a tight grip. He’s learned a few things about how Phil likes to have his dick touched over the weeks that they’ve been doing this, and nothing is better than getting to practice them all.

Phil blushes at what Dan said, but doesn’t argue. “God,” he murmurs instead. “I’m getting really close, baby.”

Dan’s whole body tingles at the pet name. “Okay,” he murmurs, using his free hand to drag Phil’s legs back over his shoulders. He kisses Phil’s knee, trailing across to nip gently at a bit of thigh. Phil jerks, and Dan smiles down at him innocently.

“Cannibal,” Phil says affectionately.

“You like it,” Dan argues.

Phil doesn’t deny it. Instead, he shifts his hips to grind up against Dan, his eyes fluttering closed as Dan tightens his grip, wanking Phil’s cock with purpose. Phil sighs, a little punched out noise that has Dan feeling desperate, his hips driving in faster and harder to reach that place that Phil’s at.

It doesn’t take long. Listening to Phil’s noises and feeling his tight, wet heat around Dan’s cock are recipes for an early finish, but Dan is still a little impressed at how long he’s managed to hold out. Still, he feels a little bad for how quickly he’s approaching that finish line, with Phil still whining and twitching beneath him, like he can’t quite reach it himself.

“C’mon, bub,” Dan breathes, nipping at Phil’s thigh again and twisting his wrist on an upstroke. “I want you to come first.”

“I’m trying,” Phil whines. “It’s- it’s too much, too-“

Dan gets a weird idea. Weird, because, well, it feels incredible to be buried inside Phil’s body like this, as close as two people can be, and honestly someone would have to fight to pull him away from that any other time.

So it’s weird that instead, he pulls out gently, shushing Phil’s noise of protest as he crawls down Phil’s body so that he’s level with Phil’s cock. “Oh,” Phil breathes when Dan ghosts his lips over the tip, dragging his mouth down lower to kiss and suck at his balls. His hands go exploring, searching lower until he finds exactly what he’s looking for.

Phil groans when Dan pushes two fingers inside, and Dan hears the complaint before Phil has a chance to make it. “Your hand’s too dry, Danny.”

“Shh, I know,” Dan placates him, pulling his hand out after a gentle prod around. He glances up at Phil for a second, and when he sees that Phil’s got his eyes closed, head thrown back, Dan grins. Phil’s a little on the shy side about certain parts of sex, and so he’s not sure how Phil would feel about this particular idea if Dan were to ask him.

So instead of asking with words, Dan gives a last gentle kiss to Phil’s balls, then kisses further down, slow enough that Phil could stop him if he wanted.

He doesn’t.

Dan reaches his destination and places a light kiss to the pink puffy rim before him, and he hears Phil’s sharp intake of breath.

“Dan,” he breathes, his voice tight.

“Can I?” Dan asks, excited. He loves doing this for people, even though it wasn’t something he was often allowed.

Phil seems to be struggling to decide. “I...”

Dan kisses him there again, gently. “I’ll be gentle, I promise,” he says softly, looking up at Phil with what he hopes are perfect puppy eyes.

Phil reaches down, brushing Dan’s damp, curling hair out of his eyes. “Yeah,” he agrees after a moment. “Just...” He looks embarrassed.

Dan thinks he gets that. He’s not usually shy about sex like Phil is, but he understands how nerve wracking this particular sex act is, especially with a new partner. “I’ll make it good for you,” he promises, grabbing Phil’s hand and pressing a quick kiss to his palm.

Phil rubs his thumb over Dan’s lips. “I know,” he says softly. He shifts to give Dan more room, and Dan takes that as an invitation.

He dives back in, gentle, just like he promised. He starts with kisses at first, just gentle brushes of his lips while one hand reaches up to wank Phil’s cock, which is still rock hard and hot. Dan slowly introduces a bit of tongue, just an occasional brush against Phil’s rim until he hears him whimper. Dan can tell without looking that it’s a good noise, Phil’s legs shaking with pleasure.

After that, Dan’s a little less cautious. He’s basically making out with Phil’s hole, so he fully commits to it, pressing his tongue in as far as it’ll go, using one hand to hold Phil in place. He struggles to get the position right at first, but then Phil’s hands appear, reaching down to hold himself open, giving Dan plenty of space to work. Dan glances up at him with a grin and a wink. “Thanks,” he mumbles against Phil’s puffy hole as he dives back in.

He laps and sucks and fucks him with his tongue, and eventually Phil is grabbing his hair, moaning loudly above him. Dan will pat himself on the back for this later, but right now he just really, really wants to make Phil come.

“Close,” Phil breathes. “Really fucking close.”

Dan doubles his efforts, wanking him fast and sucking hard and it takes just two, three strokes, and then Phil’s body is seizing up, tight like a wire before he finally releases with a long sigh.

Dan kisses his hole once more, nuzzling his thigh gently before kissing his way back up, lapping at the come cooling on Phil’s stomach just a bit, just enough that Phil groans and squeezes his eyes shut when he looks down and sees him.

Then, Dan decides it’s his turn. He’s hard and aching and ready to burst, but he’s polite enough to give Phil some space to recover. For a moment, at least, and then he’s tugging the condom off and swinging his legs over Phil, rutting his cock against the come smeared all over his stomach.

“Fuck, Dan,” Phil groans. “You’re gonna make me hard again.”

Dan shrugs. “That’s fine. We can go again. Maybe you can fuck me this time,” he says with a cheeky grin. He’s mostly kidding. He’s already feeling exhausted, and at this point he just wants to come his brains out and then immediately pass the fuck out for the night.

Phil seems to be on the same page. “Maybe another night,” he says vaguely, reaching forward and gripping Dan’s hips. “Come here, I’ll blow you the rest of the way.”

Dan smiles and crawls up Phil’s body to straddle his chest, holding his cock to Phil’s lips. “Here comes the airplane,” Dan says in a stupid voice.

“Shut up,” Phil laughs. He tugs Dan forward by his ass, holding his mouth open like a baby bird.

Dan really needs to stop with the childish references before he gives himself a complex.

Instead, he focuses on the feeling of Phil’s mouth. Dan thinks that he’s got this down to a science by now, knows all the right places Dan likes to have touched when he’s getting a blowjob, knows the exact pressure he can use when sucking to really make Dan’s eyes roll back in his head. It’s kind of perfect, if he’s being completely honest.

It doesn’t take him long, not with how long he’s been aching to come, and when he does it’s with a long whine and a full-body shiver. Phil swallows and gives his cock a sweet little kiss, looking up at him with this adoring smile.

“I love it when you do that,” he says.

Dan quirks an eyebrow. “Do what? Come in your mouth?” He smirks.

Phil rolls his eyes, pinching his naked hip in reprimand. “No. That cute little shiver thing you do when you come. It makes me feel like I did a good job.”

And that’s... really adorable, that Phil would even be worried about that.

Dan scoots himself down Phil’s chest so that he’s laying flat on top of him, then smashes their lips together messily. He can taste himself on Phil’s tongue, sharp and salty and a little bit gross. He still likes it though, probably more than he should. So he lets himself indulge for a while, relaxing his weight onto Phil’s body and plying him with kisses.

Eventually, Phil pushes him away a bit. “I’m covered in semen,” he says matter-of-factly.

Dan sits up, looking down at the mess now smeared across both of their chests. “I suppose we both are,” he observes. “Wonder what we ought to do about that.”

Phil smiles tiredly. “Can we just do a quick wash up? I’m really tired.”

“Sure,” Dan nods. He goes to climb off of Phil’s lap, when a thought hits him. “Should we do some more photos?”

Phil flinches. “Now?”

Dan shrugs. “Yeah. I mean... I’m all debauched, I reckon that’s what you’re going for, right?”

Phil stares at him for a long time. Dan feels his gaze like a brand, and it makes him twitch. Finally, Phil shakes his head. “No. I got enough photos for that part.”

“Oh,” Dan says slowly. “Okay.”

There’s a moment of silence as they stare at each other, and then Phil leans back, closing his eyes. “Can you go get something to clean us up with?” His voice is flat.

Dan’s heart squeezes. “Sure,” he whispers. He feels chastised, even if Phil really hadn’t said anything out of order. He climbs off of Phil gingerly, being careful not to touch him more than necessary. It feels wrong, now, to be this naked together, and Dan makes sure to grab his pants from the floor on his way out, as well a random shirt. It’s probably not his, but they’ve fallen into a habit of sharing clothes a lot lately so there’s a good chance that it might be.

He goes to the bathroom and wets a cloth, carefully cleaning himself up and dressing in silence. His heart is racing all of a sudden, like he’s two seconds away from a panic attack, and he really, really doesn’t want to deal with that on top of everything else right now.

Quietly, he returns to Phil’s bedroom with the damp cloth, hovering by the bed awkwardly, looking down at Phil, whose eyes are still closed. His breathing is too uneven for him to be asleep, but Dan feels strange, like he’s not supposed to speak to him when he’s like this. He tries not to think about which part of his childhood instilled this particular behavior.

“I can feel you staring at me,” Phil says suddenly, interrupting the weird, tense silence.

“Sorry,” Dan mumbles.

Phil blinks up at him, and Dan’s never seen him look so tired. Like the weight of the universe is clinging to his shoulders. “Clean me up?” He asks, voice soft.

Dan’s shoulders relax and he lets out a breath. “Yeah, course,” he murmurs. He drags the cloth over Phil’s chest and stomach, wiping away all the evidence of their activities, then carefully cleans up around his dick before going lower. Phil hisses, and Dan stops immediately. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just sensitive. Be gentle.” Phil looks at him with kind eyes, like he already knows that Dan will do his best.

“Yeah,” Dan agrees. He carefully cleans up the tacky, drying lube, and when he’s finished, he holds the cloth in his hand, slightly disgusted.

“Just toss it wherever,” Phil says, flapping a hand, uncaring. “It’ll get into the wash eventually.”

Dan at least has the decency to drop it far enough from the bed that there’s very little chance that either of them will step on it, but with empty hands, he’s suddenly unsure of his purpose. He shifts awkwardly near the door, hesitating. He wants to stay, but he’s not sure if he’s allowed. They don’t always sleep together after, well, sleeping together, but tonight... Dan really fucking wants to.

“Are you coming to bed or are you just going to stand there creeping?” Phil asks eventually, looking over at Dan like he’s gone crazy.

Dan could crumple with relief at that. “Yeah,” he says, making his way back across the room and sliding into bed next to Phil. “I wasn’t sure if, like, you wanted me to stay.”

Phil snorts. Dan tries not to be offended, since he doesn’t really know the reason for the rather unattractive sound. “I always want you to stay,” Phil mumbles, wrapping around Dan like an octopus once he’s settled.

“Me too,” Dan whispers, wrapping his arms around Phil’s waist. He’s clinging, but Phil is too, a bit, so Dan doesn’t feel too guilty. He does realize, however, that Phil is still naked. This feels like it needs to be said. “You’re naked,” he says softly, stroking Phil’s shoulder with gentle sweeps.

“Mm,” Phil hums. “Yeah. That okay?”

Dan snorts. “Of course. As long as you’re comfy.”

Phil nuzzles him then, like a proper nuzzle, and Dan knows he’s not going to be able to escape his very real feelings for much longer.

“Dan?” Phil says eventually, breaking the lull of almost-sleep Dan has fallen into.

“Hm?” Dan mumbles, his eyes already closed.

Phil’s quiet for long enough that Dan is mostly asleep when he speaks again. “You like me, don’t you?”

Dan hums, a sleep-drunk noise that’s barely coherent.

“Dan,” Phil says again, nudging him. “You do, right?”

“Mhm,” Dan mumbles, sighing noisily and snuggling in close to Phil. “Like you best,” he says nonsensically.

Phil makes a noise then, that Dan’s mostly-asleep brain deciphers as a pleased noise. He whispers something against Dan’s hair, but Dan loses it to the clutches of sleep.

~~~

When Dan wakes up, he knows something is wrong. It’s still dark out, but the bed is empty and the sheets are cold, and even as he tries to claw his way out of the haze of sleep, he knows that something about that should raise some alarm.

“Phil?” He calls, patting around on the bed for his phone. The screen is too bright when it powers on, showing a hideous three a.m. that makes Dan want to gag. But part of him, the part that’s spent maybe fourteen nights with Phil so far, is very concerned about this turn of events.

Quietly, as if there’s someone to wake, he crawls out of the bed, shivering in the chilled air. He quickly grabs a random blanket that’s thrown over the back of Phil’s desk chair, wrapping it around his shoulders as he goes in search of Phil.

A peek into the bathroom and kitchen has him coming up empty, so he journeys into the lounge, unnerved by how quiet and dark everything is. He shivers as he turns slowly in the space, and his breath catches when he sees movement out on the balcony.

He relaxes when he realizes that it’s Phil, and paces over to see what the fuck has him out of bed and in the cold, half-dressed at three in the morning. Dan taps on the glass door before he slides it open, making sure Phil isn’t startled by his presence.

It appears he needn’t have bothered, as Phil barely glances at him when Dan steps out on the balcony. Instead, he stares out at the sky before him, not sparing Dan a single look.

Dan can’t take the silence for long. “Having a nice freeze?” He jokes quietly.

Phil doesn’t laugh. His lips barely twitch. “Yeah,” he says flatly.

Dan shuffles, looking down at his feet. He’s already freezing, and he’s got far more layers on than Phil. Phil, who is only wearing a t-shirt and Sonic-printed pants that peek out from under his shirt just a bit. “Are you cold?” He asks softly.

“Why’re you out of bed?” Phil asks, ignoring his question.

Dan startles a bit at his tone. “I was looking for you,” he says, almost petulant. “I woke up alone, and I wanted to know where you were.”

“Well, you found me,” he says. He still doesn’t look at Dan.

“Yeah,” Dan says slowly. “Wishing I didn’t, to be honest.”

Phil finally glances at him, quirking an eyebrow. “Hm,” is all he says.

“Why’re you being a dick?” Dan asks bluntly. He’s always been one to get straight to the point, as he’s been told by many people in his life.

Phil sighs, settling back in his chair and closing his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice low. “I don’t mean to be. I’m just tired.”

Dan takes a risk, stepping forward to stand between Phil’s knees. “So come back to bed,” he mumbles, nudging Phil’s knee playfully with his own.

Phil’s lips twitch in an almost-real smile, and Dan savors that victory while he can. This turns out to be a good thing, because when Phil opens his mouth, it’s not what Dan wants to hear. “You can go back to bed. I’m sorry if I woke you up.”

Dan frowns. “I don’t want to go back to bed unless you come too.” He sounds like a child, but he can’t help it.

Apparently Phil picks up on the whiny tone, as well. “Dan, I’m really not in the mood,” he sighs.

“In the mood for what?” Dan demands, his temper flaring.

Phil rolls his eyes. That pisses Dan off even more, if it’s possible. “To argue. Just, go to sleep, or watch tv, or something.”

Dan hates himself for it, but he feels rejected. “I’m not trying to argue with you,” he starts, wrapping his arms around himself as a gust of wind blows over the balcony. Phil shivers, and Dan’s heart clenches. “You’re cold,” he says gently.

“I’m fine.”

“Right.”

“Dan, just...” Phil sighs, rubbing his eyes.

Dan doesn’t want to hear what he’s about to say. “Do you want me to leave?” He asks suddenly, his stomach twisting with the thought. London at three in the morning was a terrifying place.

“Of course not,” Phil replies vehemently. “I want you to stay, I just...” he sighs, running his hands through his hair and making it stand up at funny angles. “My head’s being loud,” he murmurs eventually.

“Oh,” Dan replies. This is really the first time Phil has shared this side of himself, this side that feels pain and annoyance and discomfort.

“Yeah,” Phil says. “So I came out here to try and clear it.”

Dan feels guilty, suddenly. “And then I came out here and made it worse,” he fills in.

Phil shakes his head immediately, reaching out for Dan and gripping his hip. “No, you didn’t. I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

“It’s okay,” Dan mumbles. He hates his body’s natural reaction to this kind of stress, as he can feel hot tears pinpricking his eyes. He blinks rapidly, hoping Phil won’t notice.

Of course, Phil notices. “Come here,” he murmurs, pulling Dan in to sit on his lap.

Dan goes willingly, settling into Phil’s arms that wrap around him, one hand coming up to rub his back in gentle sweeps. “Sorry,” Dan mumbles, wiping at his eyes with the edge of the blanket.

“It’s okay,” Phil says softly. “I’m sorry I upset you.”

“You didn’t,” Dan immediately says. It’s a lie, but his natural instinct is apparently protect Phil first and then feel guilty about it later.

Phil kisses his cheek. “I know that I did,” he says gently. “I’m sorry.”

Dan stays quiet, nuzzling against Phil’s neck, curling up as if he can make himself smaller by sheer will alone.

They sit in silence for a long while and then eventually, Phil sighs. “We should go back to bed.”

“Is your head still loud?” Dan asks.

Phil pats his back, prompting him to climb off his lap. “It is, but it’s fine. I’ll go to sleep eventually.”

Dan doesn’t move from his spot, chewing on his lip as he considers something. He turns so that he’s facing Phil, offering a timid grin. “I think I have a better idea.”

~~~

“This is not exactly what I thought you had in mind,” Phil says, his voice sounding very skeptical.

Dan huffs. “Quit being a hater,” he says, snuggling back against Phil. They’re sat on the sofa, Phil leaning back against the arm with Dan tucked between his legs, his back pressed to Phil’s chest.

Phil kisses his neck. “Sorry. What’re we doing again?” He wraps his arms around Dan’s waist, squeezing him like a teddy bear. Dan doesn’t mind being that teddy bear at all.

“You’re gonna help me decorate my island and my house on the new Animal Crossing game,” Dan informs him, leaving no room for debate.

“And why are we doing this instead of sleeping?”

“Because you said you probably wouldn’t be able to sleep,” Dan says, rolling his eyes.

Phil kisses his neck again, and nuzzles at his shoulder, biting gently and playfully. “Okay, so instead of not-sleeping,” he says, a certain lilt to his voice. “Why are we doing this?”

Dan tilts his head to give him a look. “Because this is just a mindless little video game, and I think it would make you feel better to focus on something unimportant for right now. Something that’ll keep your brain busy but not in a bad way, you know?”

Phil looks at him for what feels like a long time before finally nodding. He kisses Dan’s cheek softly, lingering just a little. “Okay, fine. Let’s check out this island, then.”

~~~

“That is so tacky,” Dan complains.

“It’s not!”

“Phil, it doesn’t match.”

“So?”

Dan groans, crossing his arms petulantly. He’d handed the switch over to Phil when he realized that Phil was already familiar with the concept of Animal Crossing. He hadn’t played New Horizons yet, though, so Dan thought this was a perfect opportunity to get a taste of the game before he committed to buying it for himself.

“I’m gonna have so much to fix when you get done playing,” Dan complains.

Phil pinches his thigh. “Shut up, rat. Now where can I go with all these fossils? Should we sell them?”

Dan screeches, a fair impression of a pterodactyl. “No! Take them to the museum, you tit.”

Phil giggles behind him, and Dan feels it vibrate against his back. “Fine, fine. Where’s the museum?”

Sighing loudly in a very put-upon way, Dan guides him through the game to where his museum is located, screeching and complaining when Phil gets his lefts and rights confused and can’t figure it out. By the time Phil gets there, they’re both giggling uncontrollably, poking at each other repeatedly just to start laughing again. It’s so nice, Dan thinks. This is just what they needed. Even if it is nearly five in the morning and they’ve gotten absolutely no sleep, this is what they needed.

“Hey,” Phil says softly after a few minutes, once they’ve mostly settled down.

“Hm?” Dan replies, watching the screen as Phil makes Dan’s character run around in circles.

“Thank you, for this.” Phil’s voice is quiet, and it almost feels like too much, there in the darkness when they’re wrapped around each other like this.

“Of course,” Dan murmurs to him, tilting his head back and puckering his lips for a kiss. Phil grants him with a gentle peck, and Dan turns back to the game, pretending that the pointless kiss didn’t send an army of butterflies raging through his chest.

“You really knew exactly what I needed to calm down,” Phil says, sounding almost in awe of the fact.

Dan snorts. “Of course. You’re my best friend, Phil.” He hesitates, then, nervous that he may have crossed a line that he’s not ready to cross. “I mean- I may not be yours, and like, that’s fine, I just-“

“You’re mine, too,” Phil says quickly. Dan glances up in time to see Phil blushing. “You’re my best friend.”

They stare at each other for a minute that feels like forever, and then Dan clears his throat. “Right. Glad we got that cleared up,” he says, trying to joke.

Phil tightens his grip on Dan’s waist, and Dan tries to pretend that it doesn’t make his heart pound. “Should we go back to bed?” Phil says softly.

Dan smirks at that. “Round two?”

He feels a laugh vibrate against his back and a kiss pressed to the top of his head. “Don’t know about that, babe. I’m actually kind of exhausted.”

“Yeah,” Dan agrees. “It’s getting late. Or early, depending on how you look at it.”

Phil sighs, nodding. “And I’ve got to meet Martyn in the morning.” For all the time Dan has known him, Phil has never sounded so upset about meeting up with his brother.

“Well we definitely need to hit the sack, then,” Dan says. He pats Phil’s arm that’s wrapped around his waist and sits up. “C’mon, bub. To bed, to bed.”

Phil allows himself to be pulled off the sofa and down the hall into his room. Dan tugs Phil’s shirt off with no other intention than making Phil more comfortable, and Phil’s got a soft look on his face when his head emerges. Dan brings a hand up to rest at Phil’s neck, rubbing his thumb over his pulse gently. It’s a moment that feels like it’s suspended in time, their breaths evening out to match. Dan thinks that maybe, maybe this is what it would feel like if they were actually together. Maybe this hot air balloon feeling would be comfortable someday, if he was allowed to grow more used to it. As it is now, it’s so unfamiliar that Dan feels like he might choke with how overwhelming his feelings are.

“Dan,” Phil breathes in the limited space between their lips.

The moment is shattered, and Dan forces himself to pull away. “I’m tired,” he says. His voice is flat.

He doesn’t miss the hurt on Phil’s face, for the flash of a second that it’s there. It’s gone before he gets the chance to feel properly guilty over it, and Phil’s turning away, crawling under the sheets without a word.

Dan settles on the side he’s come to think of as his own, but there’s an undeniable tension in the air between them now. He pretends there’s not, reaching out and turning off the bedside lamp. “Goodnight,” he whispers once he resettles.

He’s greeted with silence.

~~~

The next morning, Dan wakes up alone.

The light is streaming in through Phil’s shitty blinds, and Dan groans out his discomfort, flailing about like he can will the sunshine away by sheer force alone. It doesn’t work, obviously, but his flailing about does bring his attention to the emptiness of the bed.

He sits up, rubbing the exhaustion out of his eyes with sleep-numb fingers. “Phil?” he calls out. His voice echoes in the quiet of the room.

When he doesn’t immediately hear a reply, Dan starts worrying, because of course he does. He’s never woken up totally alone in Phil’s flat. On the rare occasions when Phil isn’t still in bed with him, Dan always finds him in the kitchen or bathroom, or somewhere. But a quick search of the flat has him coming up empty and he’s trying not to panic, really he is, but he actually can’t help it.

He calms down a little when he notices a note pinned to the fridge. It’s a little ridiculous how relieved he is when he pulls it down to read it.

Dan- I would’ve texted but I didn’t want to wake you up. I’m just out to breakfast with Martyn. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen. I hope you’ll still be there when I get home. Phil

He’s signed the note with a heart beside his name, and Dan refuses to think about how that makes him feel. Instead he focuses on the last part. I hope you’ll still be there when I get home. The idea that Phil would still want to see him again, after the awkwardness of the night before, makes his heart pound. He feels almost sick with guilt over how he’d acted. But he had been so overwhelmed, with the sex and the emotions that came with it. It was no surprise that he was pushing Phil away by the end of the night.

Dan sighs, folding the note carefully and making his way back to Phil’s bedroom. He tucks the note into his backpack, and then he just sort of stops. He’s not sure what to do, alone in Phil’s flat. It’s not something that’s ever happened before, he realizes with a start. Of course he’s spent the night with Phil before, several times by now, but this is the first time he’s found himself waking up alone on a Saturday in the other man’s flat, with no real idea of when he’s coming back. It’s probably stupid, how much he’s already missing Phil, when he’s got no idea how long he’s even been gone.

It takes Dan a few minutes of searching, but eventually he finds his phone amidst the sheets, and he sighs when he doesn’t see any notifications. He debates with himself for a minute or two, but ultimately decides that yes, he is that pathetic, and opens his chat with Phil. All he does is type out a quick “good morning” before going to find a phone plug, a mocking thirteen percent glaring at him from the top of his screen.

He’s barely gotten the phone plugged in when it vibrates with a notification. It buzzes two more times before Dan manages to swipe over to the messages, and he grins when he sees what’s there.

Phil: hi! Phil: why did we stay up so late 😭 Phil: I swear I have some sort of weird sober hangover

Dan grins as he types out a response, leaning awkwardly on Phil’s desk as he does.

Dan: Idk bub I guess maybe you should’ve stayed in bed Dan: you know, instead of abandoning me

Phil: I had to meet my brother!

Dan: I’m naked though

It’s sort of a lie, since Dan is wearing a pair of Phil’s pants, but he could easily be naked, if he was so inclined.

Phil: ..... okay maybe I should’ve stayed at home

Dan smirks to himself. This part of their arrangement, at least, is easy.

Dan: where r u guys at

Phil: That cafe close to the park Phil: The one you said had hipster vibes

Dan: ew of course martyn would like that place

Dan’s never actually met him but from what he hears from Phil, Martyn’s definitely the hipster-y type.

Phil: You wanna come meet us? Martyn keeps asking about you

Dan: you want me to meet your brother?

He’s trying to be normal about this. Because really, that’s a normal thing. Friends do that. Friends meet their friends’ siblings and families all the time.

It’s the “friends” part that Dan is having trouble with, actually.

Phil: Yes.

Dan hesitates. That does sound kind of nice, actually, but something in him doesn’t really know what his answer should be. He knows what he wants it to be, of course. He definitely knows that.

He must take too long to answer, because suddenly his phone is vibrating in his hand, the constant vibrate of an incoming call. Of course it’s Phil, and of course Dan answers almost immediately.

“I still can’t believe you’re the kind of person who just calls when they don’t get a text back,” Dan says in lieu of a hello.

Phil sounds like he’s smiling when he replies. “Come to the cafe. I’ll buy you breakfast.”

Dan makes a considering noise, as if he’s not already digging around Phil’s dresser for something to wear. “Alright, fine. But I’m not putting out.”

Phil laughs. “Yes you will,” he says quietly. Dan wonders if Martyn can hear both sides of this conversation. “Now hurry up. I want another croissant, but I don’t wanna order twice.”

“Okay but I’m borrowing your clothes,” Dan says, tugging on a pair of dark grey sweats. He goes to the closet, looking through the selection with pursed lips.

“Fine,” Phil says, unbothered. “Wear something warm, it’s cold out.”

Dan smiles. “Okay. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Bye, Dan.” The call disconnects with a click, leaving Dan to select a shirt in silence. He debates with himself for all of a minute before tugging at Phil’s hoodie from his university days, tugging it over his head easily. It’s hideous, but it makes him feel warm when he wears it, both literally and figuratively. It’s well worn with all the years of use it’s seen, but it also makes Dan feel a little possessive. As if anyone who sees him will somehow assume that he belongs to someone just because of a stupid sweater, with a university insignia on it that’s not his own.

He tells his brain to shut the hell up as he makes his way out of Phil’s flat, locking the door behind him with the spare key Phil keeps above the door. He considers slipping it into his pocket but figures that if he comes back it’ll be with Phil anyway, so it would be pointless to pocket the key.

It’s a short walk to the cafe he’s headed for, but he still tucks his AirPods in and scrolls through one of his many pretentiously named playlists until he finds one of his favorite Frank Ocean songs, one that’s really good to listen to while he walks. He hums along as he walks, stuffing his hands in his borrowed hoodie pocket. Phil wasn’t joking about the weather, and Dan’s already regretting his lack of undershirt as the wind nips at every bit of exposed skin.

When the cafe comes into sight, it’s a very welcome thing, and Dan stuffs his AirPods back in their case as he pushes the door open. There’s no happy little bell ringing out the sound of his arrival, not like the little cafe that he and Phil always go to on their own. Still, it’s a warm building, and somewhere in it is the promise of food and Phil, so Dan is pleased to be there anyway.

It doesn’t take him long to spot Phil and his brother sitting at a table towards the back of the cafe. And from the goofy look on Phil’s face, it didn’t take them long to spot him either.

“Hi,” he says when he reaches the table. He didn’t realize it until now, as he’s face to face with the infamous older Lester brother, but he’s nervous. He’s so nervous to meet someone that he knows is so important to a person who’s so important to him.

“Hi,” Phil parrots, sliding over and patting the space of booth next to him. “Cute top,” he smirks as he looks over Dan’s outfit, making Dan’s cheeks flame in mild embarrassment.

When Dan slides in, he offers a smile to the stranger across from them, unsure what to say. He turns to Phil with the intentions of making some sort of joke, but he’s thrown off track by Phil leaning in, planting a short kiss right on his mouth. Dan startles away, his heart racing as he shoots a panicked glance over to Phil’s brother.

Martyn looks completely unbothered, and more unsurprised than Dan thinks he’s really got a right to. “So you must be Dan,” he says, his tone neutral. He’s got a smirk on his face, or what Dan thinks might be one if his eyes weren’t also a bit smiley. “Unless my brother is just in the habit of kissing strange boys.” He sends Phil a funny look, his mouth doing a mimicry of Phil’s precious tongue bite thing.

“Er-“ Dan says with an awkward laugh. “Yeah, I’m Dan.”

Martyn reaches his hand across the table, and Dan accepts the handshake, still a little shaken by the weirdness of the whole encounter. He’s trying not to think about the other reason he feels a little shaken, or the way his lips feel decidedly tingly from Phil’s kiss.

“I’m Martyn, his brother. It’s nice to finally meet you,” Martyn is saying. Dan forces himself to pay attention. “Phil never shuts up about you.”

“Martyn,” Phil hisses. There’s a thudding noise and Martyn winces. Dan knows without asking that Phil just kicked him. Phil smiles sweetly at Dan, and Dan can’t help but lean into the warmth of his gaze. “What would you like for breakfast?”

“Hm,” Dan hums thoughtfully. “There was mention of croissants?”

Phil rolls his eyes, but nods. “I’ll go get you your usual carb selection. Scooch.”

Dan dimples up at him as he slides out of the booth so that Phil can get up to go order. As Phil passes him, Dan makes a split-second decision and kisses his cheek, his body desperate to release some of the affectionate energy he’s got stored up from a morning without him. “Get me something sweet too?” Dan requests as he slides back into the booth.

Phil grins at him. “You’ve already got me, though!”

Martyn makes a retching noise and Dan feels himself blush as Phil trots over to the counter to order their food. Dan forgets to be nervous about being left alone with Phil’s brother for a second, so wrapped up in watching the awkward hand gestures Phil makes as he selects an array of croissants and muffins for them.

His brief reverie is ruined when he hears Martyn clear his throat from across the table. Dan jerks at the noise, startled. Martyn sends him an apologetic smile, and Dan finds himself relaxing. Martyn really isn’t that scary in person.

“If he wasn’t so tall, I’d swear he’s a hobbit,” Martyn says, nodding towards his brother.

It takes Dan a minute to think about it, but he grins when it clicks. “Are we on second breakfast or elevensies?” he jokes.

Martyn laughs, seemingly pleased that Dan understood the reference. “Definitely elevensies,” he says.

Dan smiles, shaking his head in fond exasperation as he sneaks another glance at Phil. “He eats like he’s been starved for twelve years. I don’t know where he puts it all,” Dan jokes, rolling his eyes.

Martyn grins. “One of the world’s greatest mysteries,” he agrees. He glances over at Phil for a second, like he’s checking that he’s still preoccupied, and then he’s turning back to Dan, a thoughtful look on his face. “Phil seems really happy these days.”

“Yeah?” Dan says lightly, trying his hardest not to let that go to his head. He can’t hide the smile it causes though, but he tries, biting down on his lip hard.

“Yeah,” Martyn confirms. He taps the table a little, peeking over his shoulder at Phil again. Phil’s chatting with the barista as they prepare the drinks, and Dan just knows that Phil is trying to tell some weird coffee joke that he tells every time he’s in a coffee shop. Dan’s attention is brought back to Martyn when he speaks again, his voice quieter than before. “We never thought he’d get over his ex-boyfriend, to be honest with you. He was so hung up over him, even after the breakup.” Martyn shakes his head, taking a sip of his coffee with a pained look in his eyes.

Dan feels like he’s been doused in cold water all of a sudden, the thought of there being some other man, some other partner before him... But then again, he reminds himself bitterly, they aren’t partners. They’re just friends who... friends who sleep together sometimes. And that’s enough for Dan. But if that’s all they are, he can’t bear this- hearing about some ex-boyfriend that left Phil broken and obsessed. Some person out there that’s been lucky enough to have the parts of Phil that Dan himself isn’t allowed to have, and then wasted it. He can’t handle it.

Martyn doesn’t seem to notice the breakdown Dan is having, steamrolling right over the topic like it’s nothing. “So I’m sure you can imagine my surprise when Phil told me that he met someone.”

Dan startles at that. The way he phrased it makes it sound like Martyn has a very different perspective on their situation. Almost like Phil told him they were...

“Freshly made breakfast, per your request,” Phil announces as he appears beside the table, his arms laden with various treats and pastries.

“You say that like we don’t know they’re thawed out of a freezer every morning and then chucked in a microwave,” Martyn says, grinning.

“Well... they smell delicious, so surely that counts for something,” Phil says, flapping a hand, completely unbothered by Martyn’s comment. He starts sorting out the food, and Dan doesn’t realize he’s staring until Phil turns to speak to him, freezing when he catches the undoubtedly intense look on Dan’s face. “Are you okay?” Phil asks, his voice dropping to something soft.

Dan nods, trying to shake himself out of it. It’s fine. Everything is fine, so he needs to get a grip and get over himself. “Did you forget our coffee?” He asks, looking pointedly at the table.

Phil makes an offended noise, immediately followed by an “oh- yeah.”

Dan rolls his eyes, looking over at Martyn and shaking his head with a mocking thumb pointed in Phil’s direction. Dan can’t help but grin when Martyn laughs at that. “Scoot over, I’ll go get the coffee,” Dan says, patting Phil’s thigh.

Before he gets the chance to get up, a barista is appearing at their table with two cups of coffee, a small smile on their face. “You forgot your coffee,” they say pleasantly.

Phil looks embarrassed, but nods. “Thank you so much.” He pushes Dan’s cup to him as he gestures at his own head vaguely, saying, “one brain cell, and all that.”

The barista laughs and nods. “Same. Have a lovely day, guys.”

Dan waits until they walk back to the counter and out of earshot before he looks over at Martyn, nodding his head in Phil’s direction. “I can’t believe he told them he had one whole brain cell.” His voice is dripping with false disappointment, and he ignores the noise of protest from Phil.

Martyn grins though, clearly finding this banter delightful. “Right? He’s obviously only got half of one.”

“Hey!” Phil whines. “You can’t team up against me. It’s not fair.”

Dan reaches over and squeezes his knee, letting his hand linger for much longer than is actually necessary. “Don’t worry, bub. I have the other half.”

Phil looks surprised for a second, and Dan revels in the way that look melts into one of delighted affection. Turning to his brother, Phil sticks his tongue out childishly.

Martyn rolls his eyes, reaching over and snatching a croissant, dipping it in his coffee in a decidedly Lester fashion. “You’re a child,” he tells Phil mockingly.

Of course, Phil, ever the younger brother, retorts with a truly impressive: “I know you are but what am I?”

~~~

It’s nearly an hour later when Martyn makes his exit. He apologizes but says he’s got to get back home to his girlfriend, who has some kind of stomach flu. Phil mocks him for leaving her alone all morning, but Martyn has this oddly unbothered look, waving it off and saying, “she’s fine. Corny is a tough bird. She doesn’t need or want me to coddle her.” Phil says he can’t really argue with him there, and they laugh about it, making it clear that there’s something to this Cornelia person that Dan doesn’t quite get, having never met her.

They all clear off their trash and dishes from the table before Phil and Dan follow Martyn to the door. They pause as they stand outside, Martyn and Phil making plans to hang out again sometime the next week. Dan feels sort of awkward stood there, as they haven’t included him in this bit of the conversation, so he pulls his phone out, messing about on Twitter until he hears his name. He tunes back in, glancing up to find Martyn looking at him with a smile.

“Sorry, what?” he asks, feeling his face flush with embarrassment. God, way to look stupid in front of a stranger.

“I just asked if you’d be coming with Phil, when we go out next weekend,” Martyn says, with the air of someone who is not used to accepting no for an answer.

“Oh, er...” Dan looks to Phil helplessly, but Phil just shrugs. He’s smiling encouragingly, like he wants Dan to say yes, so Dan gives Martyn an awkward, uncertain nod. “Uh, sure. Where are you guys going?”

“We’re going with Martyn and Cornelia to have dinner and maybe clubbing a little bit,” Phil replies, giving Dan an apologetic look. He knows how Dan feels about clubbing, and something about that fills Dan with such an ooey-gooey warmth that he finds himself agreeing to it easily, despite how much he despises the club scene.

“Sure, I’m in. Sounds fun,” Dan says with a smile.

Martyn looks pleased, and Dan is surprised when he holds his arms out for a hug. “Cool. Listen, it was nice meeting you, mate. Be good to my little brother, okay?”

“O-kay,” Dan says, stuttering through the word just a bit. He can’t hide his surprise, though, and it only melts into confusion when Martyn pulls away with a wink.

“Bye, Phil,” Martyn says, hugging Phil next. He mumbles something in his ear that Dan doesn’t catch, but Phil’s ears go pink, and Dan decides that he’ll be pestering Phil about it immediately after Martyn leaves.

“Goodbye, Martyn,” Phil says, a little bit strained. He waves his brother off, reaching out and catching Dan’s wrist with the one not waving. Dan thinks he probably means to hold his hand but just doesn’t have the coordination to do both at once.

Dan watches Martyn walk away, then turns to look at Phil. “Your flat is also that way,” he points out, unnecessarily, probably, considering Phil looks like he’d rather choke than have to walk with his brother. Dan’s dying to ask what Martyn could’ve possibly said that would make Phil react like this, but he’s going to give it a moment.

“I know,” Phil says, petulant. He’s a lip twitch away from a full-on pout.

“So... shouldn’t we also be going that way?” Dan teases.

Phil suddenly shakes his head, turning and tugging Dan in the opposite direction. “Nope. We’re going to the park.”

“Are we?” Dan laughs, letting himself be towed along.

“Yep,” Phil says, popping the ‘p’ as he says it. “Gonna buy some bread and feed some ducks.”

Dan shakes his head, adjusting the grip their hands are locked in so that their fingers are properly laced together. He tugs a little on Phil’s arm, slowing Phil down from where he’s walking a pace and a half quicker than Dan. “Bread is bad for ducks,” Dan remarks mindlessly.

“Hm,” Phil hums. He sounds distracted. “Fine, we’ll just look at the ducks.”

Dan shrugs. “Okay.” He waits for a beat. When it’s clear that Phil isn’t going to look at him or speak, Dan cracks. “So what did Martyn say?”

Phil’s face immediately flushes, an incredibly big tell for him. Dan bites back a laugh, squeezing Phil’s fingers reassuringly. “Nothing,” he says quickly. Another tell, and clearly he doesn’t know Dan very well if he thinks that Dan is just going to let it go.

“Come on,” Dan whines, tugging on Phil’s hand. “Tell me! I won’t leave you alone until you tell me.”

Phil rolls his eyes, tugging his hand out of Dan’s grip. Dan feels mildly offended for a moment, but he recovers quickly when he feels Phil’s arm wrap around his shoulders instead. “You’re not wearing anything under this, are you?” Phil asks as he tugs at a hoodie string, ignoring Dan’s pestering entirely.

“No, I’m not,” Dan says quickly, batting Phil’s hand away. “Quit trying to change the subject, I wanna know what he said.”

“It’s really cold out, Dan, you should’ve worn a t-shirt or something underneath this,” Phil continues, a little frown tugging at his lips.

Dan huffs. “I think you’re stalling,” he says.

Phil shrugs, looking away. His ears are still pink, and not the kind you only get from the cold. “I’m not,” he mumbles half-heartedly.

“Was it about me?” Dan asks, excited. He already knows it was, but the way Phil blushes confirms it for him. “It was! What was it?”

Phil sighs deeply. “If I tell you will you drop it?”

Dan nods, holding out his pinky for a sacred pinky-promise. Phil rolls his eyes, but locks their pinkies together anyway. “So?” Dan asks, giddy.

Phil’s quiet for a moment, pulling his arm away from Dan to shove his hands in his coat pockets. Dan feels the loss of his warmth immediately, and leans into his space to get a little of it back. “He told me that he was happy to see me happy,” Phil says quietly.

Dan’s heart squeezes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Phil says with a nod. “And...” he glanced over at Dan, looking away quickly with another flush to his cheeks. “He told me not to screw it up this time.”

At first, Dan is surprised that Martyn would tell him not to screw this up, considering he clearly doesn’t understand the arrangement they have, but then his brain processes the implications of that. Martyn had told Dan that Phil had gone through a terrible breakup, that they thought he’d never get over it... but what he said to Phil makes it sound like he was the one at fault. And despite the fact that they aren’t actually dating, that Dan doesn’t actually really know how Phil is in a romantic relationship, Dan just knows that this cannot be true.

“You couldn’t,” Dan says, leaving very little room for argument.

Phil gives him a strange look. “What?”

Dan clears his throat. “You couldn’t screw this up. You know that, right?”

Phil looks at him like he doesn’t quite agree, but shrugs. “I thought that last time, too,” he mumbles.

Dan’s heart jumps. Phil’s never told him about his previous relationships, and this feels like that might be where this conversation is headed. Dan doesn’t know if he can stand that. It was bad enough to hear Martyn tell it, Dan thinks he might actually be sick if he has to hear Phil tell it as well.

“Phil,” Dan murmurs, reaching out and touching his arm.

“It’s fine,” Phil says with a shrug. “This time will be different.” He turns to look at Dan, a little smile tugging at his lips. “Because you’re different.”

Dan has to pretend that doesn’t make his insides set alight, but oh god, it does. “Right,” Dan murmurs. He doesn’t even know what Phil meant by it, really. Is this different because they aren’t actually dating? Is it different because Dan isn’t like Phil’s mysterious ex? Dan is desperate to know, but he’s afraid to ask.

He didn’t realize how far they’d walked, but his spiral of ruinous thoughts is cut off by Phil tugging at his arm and pointing. “Look! Ducks!”

Dan still has questions, he still wants to know if there’s something else going on between them, but for now he decides to ignore it. There will inevitably come a day where he can’t ignore it, but he decides that today is not that day, and instead allows Phil to drag him over to where the family of ducks is quacking about near the pond.

~

[blu-joons]

Secret Santa ~ Kim Seokjin

Every year the company Secret Santa was one of the things everyone looked forward to the most, everyone gathered around in the main office on the last day before the Christmas break and exchanged presents, Christmas was never the same without it.

You took your seat around the table, placing your present into the black sack that Namjoon walked around with, grabbing yourself a drink from the middle of the table that had been prepared. Spirits were high as the holidays came closer, and best of all; you all got a few days off work!

The last people to enter were Jin and Yoongi, not that anyone was surprised. Your eyes watched the present Jin put in the bag especially, it was much bigger than all the others that had been put in, making it easy to guess who’s his was.

One by one once everyone was in, Namjoon called out the names on the presents for people to pick up to get on with unwrapping.

“Jin!” Namjoon yelled, as your hand came up to cover your mouth trying to hide your smile as you watched the present you bought be handed to him.

He was tentative as he took the present and went back to his seat, whilst you sat back, Jin was clueless as to who could have bought for him. You continued to watch on as he unwrapped the present, seeing his eyes light up.

“This is amazing!”

“Let the rest of us see then!” Jimin yelled, earning himself a glare.

Jin proudly lifted up the gift you’d bought for him, it wasn’t much, just an old remake of one of the games you remembered him mentioning that he played when he was younger. As soon as you saw it, you knew that Jin would love it as such an avid gamer.

A few more passed by before finally your name was called. As you stood up, you watched Namjoon pull out the huge present you’d seen Jin add to the bag, barely able to hold it for the sheer weight of it.

“Someone must really love you,” you overheard Soobin exclaim.

“I must have been really good to Santa this year,” you teased, placing the present on the table.

All eyes were on you as you untied the bow that was wrapped around it before tearing the wrapping down either side of it. Your breath was taken as you unwrapped the present to find a huge hamper of things that would fit inside your home.

You had mentioned to Jin just a few weeks prior that you’d recently moved into a new place, and that your job for the start of the New Year was to begin getting decorations for it, but now you had plenty to choose from.

As you glanced around the room, Jin was sure to keep his eyes away from yours, yet he failed to hide the bright red glow on his cheeks.

“Thank you to whoever bought this, it’s amazing,” you smiled, carefully looking through each item that was placed inside.

One thing you couldn’t knock Jin for was his choice of décor, everything he picked was beautiful, from a soap dispenser to a photo frame, to most it didn’t seem that Christmassy, but for you, it was exactly what you wanted.

It showed how much he cared and listened, when at times you wondered if he was ever really listening to you or if he just liked to pretend.

You sat back down as the rest of the presents were handed around, glancing over at Jin every so often, but still he tried hard to avoid your gaze.

His heart was pounding in his chest with relief as he watched you open his present, glad that he’d picked out things that you liked. It was a risk for him, but he wanted to make sure your present was perfect for what you would’ve wanted.

Once the presents were exchanged, the room began to split off into smaller groups to catch up and talk about what everyone had planned for the holidays.

You watched carefully as Jin walked out of the room, excusing yourself from those who tried to start a conversation with you to follow him outside. You paused for a moment as he pulled out his phone before walking across to stand right by his side.

Your presence made him jump as he turned to face you, this time he had nowhere else to look but at you.

“I know it was you Jin.”

His body tensed up as you spoke, slowly his smile grew as he saw how happy you were to have received his gift. “I didn’t really make it subtle, did I?” He asked, to which your head shook. “I just thought I’d get something I knew you’d like.”

“I love it, thank you so much.”

“My present was pretty cool too,” he teased, nudging his hip against your own, “don’t even try and tell me that it wasn’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But he knew just as well as you did, that you knew exactly what he was going on about. As soon as he opened the present, he remembered the conversation he’d had with you about games, and after putting two and two together, he knew who was responsible.

“Don’t be like that, I really loved the present. I can’t wait to go home and play on it; it’s been years since I played something as old as that. It must have cost you a lot of money though.”

Your shoulders shrugged, the cost of it all simply didn’t matter, Christmas was a time for giving, and nothing would have ever have been as perfect as that game to give Jin for Christmas, and seeing his reaction made it all worth it.

“I wanted to get you something special to say thank you for all the help you’ve given us this year,” Jin softly whispered, “you’ve been really good to me, I was so happy when I saw you were my Secret Santa.”

You smiled back at him, “if I told you that you were my favourite artist to manage, then I think that makes us even. I was pretty relieved to get you too, at least I knew things that you liked.”

“I’m surprised you even listened, not many people do,” he scoffed, “I guess that’s what makes you such a good manager, you genuinely care for everyone that you work for. There aren’t many managers as good as you are Y/N.”

As your eyes met his you felt the butterflies in your tummy, feeling his hand rest against your arm. You shyly looked away as he let go of a giggle, feeling his hand pinch lightly against you to try and bring your eyes back to him.

“What are you doing to me Jin?” You blushed.

“I think this is my really roundabout way of trying to tell you I like you,” he admitted, “I hoped maybe the present would tell you everything, because I really do care about you. To everyone else you’re just a manager, but to me you’re someone who listens and supports me, and I’ll always be really grateful to you for that.”

“I’m happy I know how you feel now,” you mumbled, bringing your hand up to the side of his face, closing the distance between you both, resting your forehead against his. “Because I think I’m falling for you too Jin.”

“Are you really?”

You chuckled, feeling his hand rest over yours, “no one else makes me smile like you do, I look forward to coming into work every morning because I get to see you. You say that I listen, but you listen to me too, and no one ever really bothers listening to me.”

“Seeing you in the mornings makes the early starts worth it,” he complimented, moving closer towards you so his nose brushed against yours.

“Someone might see us,” you whispered, trying to look away.

Jin’s shoulders shrugged, making sure he kept you in position. “I don’t care if anyone sees us, no one understands me like you do, so I don’t care what they have to say. I’m not going to pretend, especially when I know that you like me too Y/N.”

Before you had the chance to speak, you felt his soft lips press to your own, your eyes fluttered shut as Jin held you closely into him. You could feel the blush flow on your cheeks, but none of that mattered as you savoured the taste of Jin’s lips.

“That was a pretty good present,” you teased as you pulled away.

“I know exactly what I want for Christmas now,” he responded, pecking your lips once more.

“What’s that?” You asked, moving your hands down to wrap against his waist, as his own rested against your hips.

“You.”

---

Masterlist

[tomhiddlestonfanfic]

A Different Christmas

CHAPTER NUMBER/ONE SHOT: One shot WHICH TOM CHARACTER: Actor Tom PAIRING: Tom Hiddleston/Reader GENRE: Romance AUTHOR’S NOTE: Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! Thanks for reading!

A Different Christmas

2020 was a strange and difficult year due to the outbreak of Covid-19. With the social distancing directives, you had never been as isolated from your family and friends as you were now. Because of the virus, you and your family had agreed that this Christmas would have to be different than all the others. So it happened that for the first time you were going to spend Christmas all alone. Well, not completely alone. Your neighbour's dog Bobby was there with you. You loved your furry friend and gladly spent the holidays in his company. But you did miss the human contact.

Since you were going to be alone anyway, you didn’t bother to make any Christmas dinner. You made sure to buy Bobby a meat bone and wrap it in Christmas paper, and of course he had to have a new toy as well. You bought him a stuffed Santa, it was very ugly but you were certain he would love it anyway.

When you had just come back from a walk with Bobby and was about to get started on your not so christmassy dinner, the doorbell rang. It was Bobby’s owner, your neighbour Tom. The painfully handsome and incredibly nice, successful actor who had starstruck you the first time you met. You had become friends through your mutual love for dogs. You had always wanted a dog, but your dad had been allergic and now you had work getting in the way, so you were always more than happy to spend time with Bobby whenever you got the chance.

“Oh, look Bobby! Daddy’s here!” you told your four legged friend excitedly and he came running towards you with his tail wagging. Oh, how you loved the sound of his little paws against your floor as he ran. You were going to miss it. Then you blushed slightly as you realised that you had just referred to Tom as ‘daddy’. He smiled warmly at you as he bent down to pet Bobby.

“Thank you for having him,” Tom said appreciatively.

“Oh, trust me. The pleasure is all mine. Without him, I would have been alone all Christmas,” you told him.

“You’ve been alone all day?” Tom asked, surprisedly raising his eyebrows at you. “That’s unacceptable, it’s Christmas. Have you had dinner yet?”

“No, I was just about to make some,” you told him.

“Well, I’ve got tons of leftover Christmas food that my mother sent home with me. How about coming over to my place for dinner?” Tom offered.

“That’s incredibly nice of you, Tom. Are you sure?” you asked him.

“Of course I’m sure,” Tom told you smilingly. “Come on. I’ve got a Christmas gift for you, but I forgot it at home.”

“Oh, you really didn’t have to,” you said blushingly. “I actually have something for you too. It’s from me and Bobby, mostly Bobby actually.”

You had made Tom a gift you thought he might like. You had ordered a mug with a photograph of him and Bobby together that you had taken a while back. It had the text ‘World’s Best Dad’ on it and a print of Bobby’s paw, which you had used a photo of his paw to make.

“Really?” Tom asked surprisedly, looking intrigued. “I’m really excited to see what it is.”

You smiled in response before getting his and Bobby’s Christmas gifts to bring with you to his place. You had been there a couple of times before and really liked the atmosphere there, it was neat and homey at the same time.

You and Tom had leftover Christmas dinner together and shared a bottle of fine wine. You could feel your cheeks grow warm, but wasn’t sure whether it was the effect of the alcohol or merely Tom’s presence. He often made you flustered, seemingly effortlessly.

When it was time to exchange Christmas gifts, you both smiled at each other while Bobby was running around your legs excitedly. You threw his brand new stuffed santa for him and he soon came back with it, wagging his tail.

“He loves it,” Tom told you happily and leaned in to whisper in your ear, so Bobby wouldn’t hear. “But it’s a bit ugly, isn’t it?” You laughed at his comment.

“How superficial of you,” you playfully admonished him. “At least Bobby sees him for what’s on the inside.”

“Cotton? I’m sure he does,” Tom laughed. “Go on, open your gift.”

“Open yours first,” you told him.

“Let’s open them at the same time,” Tom suggested and you agreed.

As you unwrapped your gift and realised that it was in a box with the exact same size as the box you had just handed to Tom, your heart skipped a beat. It couldn’t be. But it was! You felt tears fill your eyes as you saw the picture on the mug of you and Bobby and the text ‘World’s Best Dog Sitter’ on it. It was the sweetest gift you had ever received. You looked up at Tom to thank him and noticed that he too was staring at his gift with watery eyes.

“I love it,” Tom told you and brought you into a hug.

“I love it too,” you replied as you hugged him back hard. “More than you can imagine.”

“I’m so glad to hear,” Tom replied. You parted from the hug and both admired your gifts for a moment when the central figure of the evening reappeared with the ugly santa in his mouth. You both knelt down to pet him. Bobby was wagging his tail from excitement and looked at the two of you expectantly. Tom grabbed the toy that Bobby had put on the floor in front of you and threw it across the room. As you both turned back from looking at him run, your faces were just centimetres away from each other.

“We’re not so good at keeping a distance, are we?” you joked blushingly as he looked you in the eyes. He smiled at you and you at him.

“I suppose we’re not,” he agreed, but made no effort to move away from you. You could feel the smell of his cologne and felt a shrill of excitement run down your spine. “Since the damage has probably already been done,” he added and leaned in to kiss you. You deepened the kiss as you shut your eyes and put your arms around his neck. He tasted of the wine you had just had and you absolutely loved it. Before you could go full makeout session, there was a playful bark coming from right next to you. You and Tom instantly parted from each other and looked at the playful Bobby. “How about a Christmas walk in the park?” Tom suggested.

“‘I would love to,” you replied with a smile. It had been a very different Christmas this year, but thanks to Tom and Bobby, it had been different in the best way possible.

[imagine-darksiders]

Would make a short of Strife rescuing a tiny human? Please ?

Short?

Hi guys, so I was writing this reply when it suddenly occurred to me that I’ve been neglecting you and I owe you, at the very least, a 6000+ word, Strife centric Christmas present. So although it’s isn’t a Christmassy piece per se, it all I have at the moment. 

Thank you so much for being patient with me. XXXX 

—

The photograph stands on a tiny, pink dresser, its edges cut back just enough so that it fits inside a silver frame, out of which peer three humans, their grinning faces never changing as they keep a quiet vigil of the bedroom and its otherworldly visitor, who – in turn – finds his sharp gaze frequently returning to the little, paper snapshot.

A pair of eyes, golden and glowing in the lightless bedroom, screw themselves shut tightly for a moment as their owner heaves a sigh and tries not think about what had happened to the trio of humans. He especially refuses to dwell on the youngest; the little boy in overalls and wellington boots who rides happily on his father’s shoulders in the photo, but who also so, so closely resembles the tiny, emaciated corpse twisted up in a wardrobe nearby.

These are the moments during supply runs that Strife hates the most – where he stumbles across the sad, broken remains of humans, all whilst he rummages through their homes and helps himself to what was once theirs with his only consolation being the humans back at the maker tree, who would survive just a little longer thanks to his pilfering.

If he thought too hard about it, he would be troubled, and the horseman could not afford that. Best to put it from his mind and move on, as he always has. As experience has taught him.

Peeling his eyes open again, Strife turns his back on the photograph and continues stuffing a dishevelled, cuddly pony into one of the leather pouches that hangs from his side.

’Just the essentials,’ he reminds himself before every supply run. ’Food, water and ammunition being top priority.’

But then, Ulthane had brought that kid to the tree and she’d cried all night, asking where her caretakers were and complaining how she couldn’t possibly sleep without a ‘Mister Bear’ and…

The horseman strokes a finger over the toy’s stringy mane before he withdraws his hand and fastens the pack up again, safely sealing it inside.

’In this instance’, he reasons, ’a soft toy is an essential.’

Besides, he’s already gathered plenty of food for today at least, and if he doesn’t get back soon, Ulthane and the other humans will start to worry where he is.

“Where Jones is,” he corrects himself aloud with a bitter frown.

He’s beyond the point of believing they’d care about Strife the horseman in the same manner they care about his human disguise.

Casting one last, solemn glance at the corner wardrobe, Strife once more finds himself fighting to put the humans’ fate from his mind.

It was so much easier when he thought – as many other species still do – that humanity was little more than a savage society with no ambition beyond killing and consuming to survive. Then, he actually met the little species and found everything he thought he knew about them to be a lie. His eyes had been opened, and he’d been left sadder, but wiser.

Humans had been treated like dirt for so many centuries.

And he hadn’t really cared.

Deciding that he’s spent more than enough time among ghosts, Strife steps back over the bedroom’s threshold. 

Moving towards a set of rickety stairs, he reaches out to place a hand on the banister when he suddenly freezes in his tracks, his keen senses honing in on a sound coming from somewhere further down the landing.

A scuffle, then a snort followed by the scrabble of claws on a hard surface.

For several moments, the horseman remains at a standstill as he listens with rapt attention to the pants and growls he’d pin to a Goreclaw, if he had to take a wild guess.

The damn thing sounds as though it’s stuck. That, or it’s looking for something. Either way, it will be sufficiently distracted and chances are likely it doesn’t even know a horseman is in the vicinity.

Mercy’s grip sticks invitingly up from within its holster and Strife runs a thumb over the smooth surface, thinking.

He could just leave. It is only one demon after all.

But then…

The horseman’s mind drifts back to the little body in the wardrobe and his jaw immediately sets.

No way in Hell is he about to let that thing get at it. Dead or not, a kid doesn’t deserve to be reduced to marrow by a hell-dog. Strife could spare him that, at the very least.

Shaking his head and wondering when he’d become so sentimental, he draws his pistol and steps back onto the landing. Following the sounds of guttural snarls, he stalks through the crumbling apartment until he comes upon a broken doorway, torn off its hinges at some point by a hand greater than a human’s. Strife halts just shy of the entrance and presses his back up against the wall before inching his head around the corner, golden eyes narrowed dangerously as he scans the room beyond.

Far be it from him to err on the side of caution but he is curious to know what the demon is up to. His earlier assumption had been spot on. It’s a Goreclaw alright, currently in the midst of trying to shove its long talons underneath a chest-of-drawers, teeth snapping and drool flying from its snout.

“What the Hell are you doing?” he wonders quietly, observing while it retracts its foreleg and presses its nose up to the slim gap beneath the furniture.

He’s only ever seen the dogs get this excited when they’re on the trail of prey.

For a split second, the horseman’s blood runs cold at the thought of a human being trapped under there, though he soon shakes that notion off. No matter how tiny, there isn’t a human alive that could stuff themselves underneath there. Not with barely two inches of space between floor and wood.

Through the window, he’s distantly aware that the sun is no longer shining through a gap in the curtains, having sunk well below a building on the opposite side of the street, heralding the swift approach of night.

Aware that he’s burning daylight, and desperate to put a bullet in something, Strife obnoxiously clears his throat, rounds the corner and aims a cocksure grin at the startled demon when it whirls about to face him.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he says cheerfully, “Just wanted to stop by and tell you, there’s something on your face.”

A roar of outrage shatters the relative peace as the demon crouches, ready to pounce. It barely manages to plant its hind legs however, before a bullet tears out of Mercy’s chamber and buries itself directly in the Goreclaw’s skull.

“Ope, never mind, I got it,” Strife gloats, a smirk lifting his lips. The demon crumples to the ground, gurgling and twitching for a moment until it eventually lays still, dead on the floral print carpet. “Huh…I was hoping that’d be a little more satisfying.”

With his grim duty taken care of, the horseman turns on his heel to leave. However something nags at the back of his mind and he stops mid-stride, a frown pulling at his brows.

Just what had that demon been so desperate to get at?

Beneath his helm, Strife chews pensively on his lip, turning back to face the unassuming chest of drawers. After a moment’s deliberation, he gives in to curiosity, a newfound trait he wholly blames on the humans he’s been sharing a tree with for the past several weeks. Every one of them has a penchant for sticking their noses into strange situations, and it seems their behaviour has rubbed off on the horseman somewhat.

An obnoxious huff escapes Strife as he grabs each side of the dresser and picks it up effortlessly, as if it weighed no more than a feather and moves it aside to peer down at the dustless rectangle that had been left in its wake. It isn’t long before his sharp gaze lands on something out of the ordinary, a patch of colour in the otherwise murky grey.

“What the?…” Dumping the chest of drawers down to his right, the horseman squats to get a better look at what appears at first glance to be just another child’s toy.

“All that fuss for a doll?” he wonders aloud, reaching slowly down with a finger to prod at it.

Just then, before he can utter anything further, he almost jumps out of his skin as the ‘doll’ springs to life.

Rather, it suddenly leaps to its feet and darts sideways, gunning straight along the wall’s skirting with two, little legs pumping along like a steam engine.

“Hey! Woah there!” Caught off guard, Strife doesn’t think before he shoots out a hand towards the fleeing creature.

It can’t quite skid to a halt in time to keep from colliding with the horseman’s gauntleted palm that abruptly slams to the ground in front of it, and with a soft ‘plink,’ the human-shaped thing collides with his hand and falls back onto its rump so jarringly, Strife can’t suppress a wince. “Oooh, sorry about that,” he says, wasting no time in pinching his thumb and forefinger against the collar of a thin, brown shirt and plucking it up off the floor. “Now, what do we have here?”

Dangling his prize in front of his silver helm, he squints, head tipping to one side so he can get a good look at what he’s caught.

He very nearly drops it again when he realises what he’s peering at.

It’s a human. A boy, to be precise, and a fairly young one at that, clothed in nothing more than a ratty shirt and a pair of equally dishevelled shorts that hang low on his waist, too baggy to fit on his near skeletal form. They’ve even been tied in place by a strip of green twine.

Hanging limply from the horseman’s grasp, the little human tries to work his shirt loose, twisting this way and that but impeded by violent trembles that wrack his body. Realising that thrashing is doing him no good, he opts to reach up with miniature fists and attempt to tear the shirt free, tiny grunts leaving even tinier lips.

“You’re a human!” Strife blurts out, eyes flashing interestedly.

At the sound of his booming voice, the boy flinches and cries out, abandoning his prospects of escape in favour of clamping both arms over his head and curling in on himself, a meagre method of protection against his titanic captor.

Standing back up to his full height, the horseman continues to study his handful whilst planting his free hand on a cocked hip. “Well damn me, I didn’t think human kids could get this small,” he murmurs. Suddenly, his ears perk up at the sound of a diminutive squeak that emanates from the boy currently hanging from his fingers. ”What was that, kid?”

Shivering, his arms still shielding his head, the tiny boy swallows and raises his voice loud enough to be heard. “I-I ain’t a human!” he claims shrilly. Then, after a small pause, he adds, “And I ain’t no kid neither!”

“Not a human, huh? Well, you sure look like one.” Strife chuffs and raises a claw-tipped finger, prodding the boy in his stomach and eliciting a squawk of indignation. “Sure sound like one too…Kind of on the skinny side though, aren’t you?”

His words cause the boy to turn rigid and his arms peel back slightly to give Strife a view of ebony hair and wide, brown eyes. “What…what’s that s'posed to mean!?” he whimpers, “You’re not gonna…you’re not gonna eat me, are you!?”

“Mmm, haven’t decided yet,” the horseman playfully responds, tapping his chin in mock thought. “Doesn’t look like you’ve got much meat on you…Then again, I am pretty hungry.”

Behind his mask, he grins, though the expression promptly blinks out of existence when he notices a wetness has gathered on the boy’s cheeks.

“Uh oh.” That wasn’t supposed to happen. He’d been sure human kids loved jokes! Hell, Ulthane had playfully threatened to eat some of the younglings back at the tree and they’d all thought it was a great game, even laughed their heads off when he made a slow swipe at them with one of his meaty paws.

“Oh, hey, no – I – Ah, damnit.” Like a flipped switch, Strife’s tone loses its teasing lilt and slips to something gentler. “Hey, ease off the waterworks, okay, pint-size? I was kidding.” Borderline desperate, the horseman lowers his catch into a sturdy palm and lets go of his shirt, even smoothing down the back of it with the pad of a careful finger for good measure although as he does, he becomes aware of just how prominently the boy’s spine protrudes. Human anatomy varies, sure, but that doesn’t feel right.

Jerking away from the encroaching finger, the ‘not’ human swipes furiously at his eyes, smearing tears across reddened cheeks. In spite of the horseman’s reassurance, he doesn’t appear convinced, eyeing the palm beneath him with about as much trust as he’d give a hungry snake, half expecting it to spring to life and squeeze the soul out of him. Truthfully, he hasn’t seen much of the world, even before monsters fell out of the sky, but he knows enough to tell that this metal-clad behemoth is most assuredly not human.

Human eyes don’t glow like liquid gold.

In the meantime, Strife gives himself a mental kick for making the child cry.

“So, uh,” he clears his throat awkwardly, “You… got a name, kid?”

“What do you care?” the boy sniffs, all pretence of bravery made redundant by his trembling, “You’re just gonna drop me or – or squash me or something.”

Drawing his head back, the horseman frowns. “C'mon, you’re like – what? - three inches tall? Be kind of a dick move for me to hurt someone smaller than my thumb.”

Cautious surprise flickers across the youngster’s face and he swipes the back of a wrist under his nose, chin lifting to shoot a suspicious squint at his captor. “But…but ain’t you one of them demons?”

Strife bristles despite his best efforts. “Do I look like a demon to you?”

Ducking his head, the boy gulps but still balls his hands into fists and squeezes out, “Well, I dunno… You big'uns all look alike from down here.” He risks a mistrustful glare at Strife’s luminous eyes. “Like monsters.”

Apparently the Horseman has been spending too much time around humans because that sent an unpleasant pang bolting through his chest.

“Yeah, well…Speaking from experience, not everyone who’s bigger than you is a monster, kid,” he murmurs gently.

The boy blinks, caught off guard by the sober tone of voice he hadn’t expected to hear from this gargantuan, metal man. All his life, he’d had drummed into his head the mantra that if a big one caught him, they’d more than likely kill him. And those that didn’t would shove him in a jar or underneath a microscope - that last one had happened to his great, great grandfather. Or so he has been lead to believe.

And yet so far, there’s no jar, no microscope, and although he knows it’s far too early to be letting his guard down, the longer he goes without becoming a sticky mess under the heel of a boot, the more his nerves relax the strangle-hold they have on his heart.  

Outside, the city grows steadily darker and with the absence of sunlight, a chill seeps its way through the broken window.

Drawing up his knees and hugging them to his chest, the boy falls victim to an involuntary shudder.

“Cold?”

The suddenness of the giant’s voice reverberating overhead causes him to jump and snatch his gaze up from where it had wandered down to his shoeless feet. On impulse, he blurts out a stubborn, “No,” and clenches his jaw shut again to stop it from quaking.

Strife raises an eyebrow and though his skepticism is hidden under a helm, it manages to saturate his voice. “Uh huh. I can see you shivering, kid.” Slowly, his fingers creep a few centimetres closer to the boy. 

“I told you, I’m not a kid,” his handful mutters, “I’m nearly eleven.”

A snort of laughter bursts out of Strife before he can catch it, earning himself an icy glare. “Now, I’m no expert,” he chuckles, bouncing his hand slightly, much to his passenger’s horror, “But I’d’ve said eleven was well in the range of what a ‘kid’ oughtta be.”

“Kids can’t take care of themselves,” the boy explains, agitated, “I can.”

Strife draws his head back in mock surprise. “Oh hoh! Can you now? S'that why I found you seconds away from becoming a demon’s snack?”

Huffing, the boy averts his gaze from the dazzling yellow eyes overhead and mumbles, “I’d have been fine.”

“Whatever you say, half-pint.” The corners of Strife’s lips tilt up as he inspects the boy’s grumpy pout. “You know, you’re pretty feisty for such a little guy. Didn’t your parents ever teach you not to go picking fights with demons a hundred times your size?”

Despite his far larger stature, the horseman can pinpoint the exact moment he’d said the wrong thing. The word 'parents’ has barely slipped off his tongue before the boy’s eyes suddenly clamp shut and his back goes rigid against Strife’s fingers. Understanding dawns at once and the horseman’s eyes lose some of that preternatural glow as he exhales softly through his nose. “Oh….Your folks’re not in the picture anymore, huh?”

Face now pressed into his knees, the boy shakes his head.

“Was it a demon?”

This time, Strife receives a slow nod, confirming his suspicions.

Blowing out a puff of hot air, he scratches at his neck and offers, “Damn. I’m…. sorry, kid.”

What else could he possibly say?

“…Hamish.”

Strife blinks, lifting the youngling closer to his eyes and peering down at him. “What’d you say?” he murmurs, giving the boy a gentle nudge with his thumb in the hopes of coaxing the words out again.

Luckily, he’s rewarded when his passenger finally looks up at him with a pair of drooping, brown eyes, their edges tinged red. “My name,” he tries, louder this time, “It’s not kid. It’s Hamish.”

The metal mask does little to conceal its wearer’s pleased grin.

“Hamish, huh?” He decides not to make a fuss about the tears rolling down the kid’s cheeks. “S'good to meet you. Name’s Strife.”

Confusion sweeps across Hamish’s features and he carefully extracts himself from his knees, scrubbing away the fresh teardrops. “Strife?” He hesitates for a moment to scrunch up his nose even further, and the horseman can’t help but notice that when he does, he bears an uncanny resemblance to Yarin after the humans tried explaining the concept of a computer to him. Strife’s grin widens of its own accord at the fond memory whilst its wearer waits patiently for Hamish to finish scrutinising him.

Eventually, the boy appears to come to some sort of conclusion as he huffs and rubs tiredly at one of his eyes, though Strife suspects it has more to do with not wanting to meet the horseman’s gaze when he says matter-of-factly, “That’s a weird name.”

Glad that his little acquaintance has at least stopped crying, Strife feigns offence. “It’s a Nephilim name,” he explains, “and - for the record - how do you know I don’t think Hamish is a weird name?”

The boy gulps, apparently mistaking the giant’s playful banter for real displeasure, after all, he had just insulted an unstoppable behemoth’s name. Eager to move the conversation along, he stammers out, “U-Uh, what’s a…a nephilim?”

The horseman, making note of Hamish’s renewed trembling, softens his tone. “A Nephilim is…It’s, uh…” Something stops him mid-sentence. Is he really about to tell this kid about the Nephilim? A brutal race of bloodthirsty, world-conquering titans? Of which Strife himself was a member? The horseman clamps his mouth shut. What if explaining who the Nephilim were prompts Hamish to start asking questions? Creator forbid the boy discover that the man holding him in his palm was one of four responsible for the total eradication of their own species.

With a hard blink, Strife focuses back on Hamish and notices the boy’s eyes are nervously darting all over his mask. The suffocating spell of silence had lasted longer than the horseman intended. Thinking quickly, he stumbles over an answer that he hopes will satisfy the boy. “It’s…Well, s'just what I am.”

Perhaps it’s only because Hamish has spent his entire life keeping his existence a secret, but the giant’s vague response doesn’t bother him half as much as it ought to. He gets it. The man probably doesn’t want anyone knowing about his existence. Hamish finds the feeling is mutual.

So, instead of calling Strife out on his blatant avoidance, the boy simply offers him a nod and says, “I knew you weren’t human.”

“Ha, only when I need to be,” the horseman chimes secretively, and before Hamish can ponder what he means by that, he’s unexpectedly bounced up into the air, letting out a startled yelp before he lands in the centre of the giant palm again.

“Anyway,” Strife begins, shooting a cursory glance out the window and wincing upon finding it utterly obscured by the ink of night, “There’ll be plenty of time to get to know each other once I get you to safety.”

Hamish’s fingers twitch against the tough gauntlet, a trickling cold slipping into his stomach. “Wait, what?”

“Well, today’s your lucky day, kid!” Strife puffs out his chest and jabs it with a thumb, proudly declaring, “I am gonna take you someplace safe.” Pausing for a moment to let that sink in, he watches the boy’s eyes grow wide, feeling a sense of accomplishment at seeing what he imagines can only be excitement, so he carries on, “It’s warm, away from demons, there’s lots of humans and enough food to last you a lifetime.” He stresses his point by poking Hamish’s belly with a careful fingertip. “By the looks of things, you could use a good meal. So, what do you say? How’s that sound?”

The boy remains silent for several seconds as he processes what he’s being told.

Then, to the horseman’s shock, rather than elation or relief, he’s met with a face full of horror and before he can ask what’s wrong, the boy leaps unsteadily to his feet and bellows, “NO!” at the top of his lungs.

Taken aback, Strife snaps his other hand up to close Hamish in a loose fist when it looks as though he’s about to jump off the horseman’s palm. “Hey! Easy there! What’s the matter?”

Hamish begins pounding ardently on the fingers holding him hostage, kicking his legs to no avail. This hulking stranger wants to take him away from his family home – the place he’s lived and loved and known his whole life - and dump him with a bunch of humans? Not a chance. “Let me go!” he cries, terrified at the prospect of being uprooted, “I’m not going with you!”

Baffled, the horseman tips his head to one side and frowns at the ferocity behind each blow on his metal gauntlet. “Stop that, you’re gonna hurt yourself!” He reaches up and catches one of the boy’s arms, holding it gingerly between two fingers. “Why don’t you want to come with me?”

“Because! This is – It’s my home!” Hamish all but sobs, pushing furiously at Strife’s metal thumb.

“Kid, this is gonna be your tomb if you stay here much longer,” the horseman tries to reason, “I mean, look at you, if a demon doesn’t get you, something else will. You’re skin and bone.”

“I’d rather take my chances out here than be surrounded by humans!” Hamish gives a final heave before collapsing over the enormous thumb, with one arm still held above his head, caught in a firm but gentle grip.

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Strife almost laughs aloud at the thought of the humans at the tree hurting anyone. Three of them had actually cried after they discovered a dead bird outside the entrance. But even still, he has to put the boy’s mind at ease. At last relinquishing his hold on the skeletal arm, he sighs, “Listen, kid. Nobody’ll hurt you, okay? They’re good people. Besides – no offence – but I think they’ve got more important things to focus on than antagonising you.”

Unfortunately, Hamish either isn’t listening, or he just doesn’t care.

Glancing up at the giant, fresh tears streaming in a never-ending torrent down his face, he puts on the bravest voice he can muster and yells, “I’m staying here!”  

“No, you’re coming with me.”

“No, I’m not! You can’t make me!”

Golden eyes flash brightly at the challenge. “Oh, you don’t think so?” Strife smirks, and without warning, begins to lower Hamish towards one of the pouches on his belt.

As soon as he spots where he’s headed, the boy’s struggling becomes increasingly wild. “No, no, no!”

“Sorry, kid,” the horseman murmurs, steeling his heart against the frightened wailing, “M'not leaving you here.” Using his free hand, Strife fumbles with the pouch’s leather strap and is just about to get it open when Hamish suddenly cries out, “Wait, wait! Just – I’ll go with you, okay? Just stop!”

The horseman pauses, considering the boy for a moment before lifting him back up to his helm. “What’s up? You claustrophobic or something?”

Little fingers dig imploringly into the gaps of Strife’s gauntlet as Hamish shakes his head. “No, I – I just…If you have to take me, then….at least let me get my things first.”

“Your things?” he echoes, squinting down at the kid and noting, with some semblance of relief, that he’s no longer putting up a fight. “Where are they?”

Shrinking underneath the giant’s dazzling stare, Hamish swallows noisily but manages to raise a shaking finger and points it over his shoulder. “In the walls.”

Puzzled, Strife glances to where he’s indicating. “You….lived in the walls?” He sees Hamish nod from the corner of his eye.

“There’s an, um…like a little crack in the skirting board, over there.”

Once again, the horseman follows a tiny finger as it points down to the bottom of the wall, where there is indeed a hole, just large enough to grant entry to a mouse, or perhaps someone else who stands just a few inches off the ground.

For several seconds, Strife deliberates the situation, his gaze flicking between the dark window, the hole and Hamish until eventually, he blows out a huff and shakes his head, turning back towards the doorway and lowering the boy to his hip once again. “Sorry, kid, but whatever it is, it can’t be that -”

“There’s something in there that belonged to mum and dad!”

Strife’s steps falter and he squeezes his eyes shut with a sigh.

Sensing his captor’s hesitation, Hamish prods, “Please? I don’t want to leave without it! It’s all I have left of my family…”

Family. The word plucks insistently at Strife’s heartstrings and he briefly laments the younger, colder version of himself that wouldn’t have flinched if he’d heard it. For some time, the horseman wrestles with himself, teeth grinding together until at last, he lets out a groan and stomps over to the hole in the wall. “Alright, fine.” Pausing to lift the boy up to his mask again, he levels a stern glare at him and adds, “But you gotta be in and out of there in one minute, okay?”

Hamish’s face brightens and he squirms restlessly as Strife lowers himself onto one knee and places his hand on the ground.. “O-okay, mister!”

Barely even waiting for the appendage to stop moving, Hamish all but dives off as soon as the fingers uncurl themselves, landing on the ground and haring for the wall, but before he can get too far, he finds himself jerked to a halt when the waistband of his trousers is pinched between two, enormous fingertips. Craning his head back, he stares anxiously at the horseman, flinching when a gruff voice booms, “I mean it, kid. In and out.”

“I-I got it!” Hamish replies hurriedly, desperate to put some distance between himself and the metal giant.

After giving him one last, calculating look, Strife finally relents, letting the boy go and leaning back to watch him scurry into the wall as fast as his little legs can carry him. Snorting softly, the horseman eases back onto his haunches, content for the time being to wait for his discovery to reemerge. “And here I thought I’d seen everything,” he muses.

——-

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to Strife, a similar thought is occurring to Hamish as he races through the intricate maze of tunnels his ancestors had dug out of the house’s stone foundations. Spiderwebs threaten to catch the boy’s flimsy shirt and hold him back, but a lifetime of memorising every twisting, dust-choked tunnel meant that Hamish could navigate his way through each obstacle without even having to slow down. In almost no time, he’s scaled up the wall’s interior and burst through the tiny, wooden door that leads to his family home.

Slightly winded, Hamish takes a moment to collect himself, peering about at the candlelit kitchen and trying to decide where best to hide because he has no intention of going back to the clutches of that giant. To do so would be in complete violation of everything his family had ever taught him, and if he could do nothing else, at least Hamish could carry their lessons with him. Perhaps his mother would even be proud of him for tricking the giant into letting him go free, had she still been alive. Pressing his lips together, Hamish slumps heavily against the doorframe and exhales roughly through his nose, determined not to cry again.

All of a sudden, his whole world shudders as a thunderous boom hits the wall beside him, threatening to knock him off his feet. Crying out, Hamish drops instinctively to his knees whilst two more booms follow the first, one after the other, rocking the entire foundations of his home and raining dust down into his already grubby hair. Fear of being crushed by falling debris compels him to move, so he crawls across the still shivering room, every now and again having to doge pots and pans that are flung from their hooks on the ceiling until he gets close enough to the kitchen table to throw himself underneath it.

Then, as soon as they’d begun, the booms stop and everything grows silent, save for the clinking of a cup that rolls across the ground before coming to a stop just beside Hamish’s hiding spot.

“Hey, kid! You get the stuff yet?” Strife’s muffled voice calls from outside.

To his irritation, the horseman sounds entirely oblivious to the abject terror he’d just put him through – is still putting him through. Unaware that he’s balled his hands into fists, Hamish aims a harsh scowl at the wall, behind which the voice had come from and, in as brave a tone as he can summon, yells, “GO AWAY!”

There’s a pregnant pause, a heavy stillness that hangs in the air like a lead weight over his head and Hamish is just beginning to wonder if Strife had actually obliged him, when the horseman’s voice cuts through the brick again, considerably softer this time. “You know I can’t do that, little man.”

The boy scoffs aloud. “Yes, you can,” he retorts, “You just have to turn around and leave.”

“Hamish.” The pointed use of his name isn’t lost on the boy. “I am trying to look after you. Now would you come back out here so I can actually do that?”

The voice sounds closer now, as though Strife is speaking directly next to the wall outside his hiding spot and Hamish realises too late what a stupid move it had been to shout and give away his position. So, with lips pursed and arms crossed, he offers the horseman a stubborn silence. A full minute passes before he hears a low sigh from the other side of the wall.

He expects Strife to continue banging on the wall until the sound becomes so annoying, it drives him out. He expects the horseman to at least pretend to leave, then snatch him up again the second he steps from the mouse hole. What Hamish doesn’t expect, however, is for the wall of his kitchen to suddenly explode inwards.

A cacophony of sound beats on his eardrums and in a desperate bid to avoid being deafened, Hamish throws his arms over his head and presses himself into the floor, his scream swallowed by chunks of plaster and brick showering down all around him. When the dust settles, he still doesn’t move, not even when silence is all he can hear aside from the blood pounding through his eardrum.

Then, movement. Not from Hamish, but from the gaping hole that has appeared in the brick and cement, exposing his kitchen – his home – to the world outside. Choking on the fear that weighs down on him as surely as the ceiling above, Hamish raises his head and peeks out between trembling arms to see a colossal fist slowly dislodge itself from the tight confines of his kitchen wall, fragments of which tumble down around it, plinking off metallic plating and leaving a coat of dust in their wake. With a final tug, the fist breaks free, retreating enough so that what little light is left can spill through the gap and illuminate the hovel. As Hamish watches, too rigid with anxiety to move his limbs, a familiar pair of luminous, yellow eyes loom out of the dust and peer inside, swiftly finding him cowered underneath the kitchen table. Their gazes lock and they stare at one another, the boy’s eyes widening as a direct contrast to Strife’s, which narrow at the sight of him.

“You know, I don’t appreciate being lied to,” the horseman grumbles before adding curtly, “I thought we had a deal?”

Pinned helplessly beneath that glare, Hamish attempts to shuffle backwards further under the table, though his limbs have locked up and refuse to cooperate with his intentions. However, his mouth hasn’t suffered the same petrification. “I-I don’t make deals with giants!” The words tumble out before he can catch them. “I’m not going, so just!- Just leave me alone!” As he speaks, he continues to shimmy away until he emerges from beneath the table, all the while his every move is followed intently by an unwavering, yellow gaze.

An entrance to one of the many tunnels his family had built into the walls is just to Hamish’s left – shrouded in darkness and invitingly safe. If he could just reach it, he’d be able to disappear into the brickwork.

Taking a fairly solid guess on the boy’s next course of action, Strife growls out a warning steeped in thinly veiled concern. “Come on, kid. Don’t make me do this.”

With the deliberate slowness of one who doesn’t wish to provoke a predator, Hamish gets to his feet and in utter silence, they stare each other down, one defiant and the other dejected.

Then, the horseman eyes squeeze shut just for the briefest of instances, as if in pain.

It’s all the opening Hamish needs.

Like a rabbit with a fox at his heels, he bolts sideways in a mad dash for the tunnel entrance, his mind fixated on one thing only: Escape.

Although he’d always been the youngest family member, he could boast an impressive swiftness, outpacing even his mother and father as they raced through the apartment in playful capers.

His father had once said that Hamish’s speed would keep him safe.

His father was wrong.

The enclosed doorframe comes within reach and another round of adrenaline fizzes across his brain at the the tantalising prospect of freedom, so close it puts a hopeful smile on his face. He would not be made to leave his home. Fingers grasp the wooden edge of the door and Hamish readies to propel himself those last, precious few feet through the gap. He’s so focused on where he’s going, he doesn’t notice the rush air that whizzes past him, nor that it’s soon followed by a large, ominous shape sliding past his body in the darkness and curling into his path. However, he does notice when he slams against a solid wall of metal and leather - a wall that begins to gently scoop him backwards, away from the door, away from the safety of the apartment’s labyrinthian tunnels and straight towards a home-wrecking giant.

“No!” he shrieks like a banshee as strong fingers fasten around his midsection, ensuring him that this time, there will be no escape. The horseman will not be duped again. All too soon, Hamish finds himself dangling back in front of that avian mask and shying away from the palpable disappointment radiating from beneath it.

“Okay,” the low, unimpressed voice chimes, “I can tell there’re gonna be some trust issues between us.” Before continuing, Strife holds an admonishing finger up right in front of the boy’s face. “But you need to understand that you can’t just run off like that, kid! What if you’d gotten hurt?”

Reflecting on what he’d said, the horseman has to suppress a shudder. ’Shit, I’m starting to sound like Death.’  

“What do you care if I get hurt!?” the boy challenges, “You’re the one who’s kidnapping me!”  

Bridling at the accusation, Strife sets his jaw and snaps, “You got duskwings in your belfry, kid? I’m trying to protect you!”

“I don’t need you protecting me! I was doing just fine on my own!” Hamish bellows, balling his hands into fists and throwing them wildly in the direction of Strife’s mask, more as a show of defiance than anything else. He’s borderline hysterical now, barely sucking down enough air to keep himself conscious during the throes of panic.

Meanwhile, the horseman watches his display, taking in the boy’s skinny frame, the shorts that barely cling to his narrow hips, the dark bags hanging under his eyes and the grime covering his skin and clothes. “No,” he says with an air of finality, “You weren’t.”

There’s no further opportunity for Hamish to retort because he’s promptly swept in a downwards arch towards the horseman’s pouches once again. No amount of pleading, thrashing or crying garners a reaction out of the stone-faced giant who has turned a deaf ear to his tiny captive. Only when he lifts the flap of his frontmost pocket and lowers Hamish inside does he speak, simply to say, “This is for your own good.”

The boy’s backside touches something soft and fuzzy and he balks, inadvertently grasping at the fingers that unfurl from around him, as though they would pull him out of the very prison they’d slipped him into. The last thing he sees before his world is plunged into darkness is a now familiar pair of amber eyes gleaming down at him and pulling a whimper off his lips.

—

Strife expels a hot breath as he fastens the clasp on his pouch and finally allows himself an indulgent second to relax. Then, giving the bottom of the pouch a few, gentle pats, he turns once more towards the pitch black hallway, smirking when a minuscule foot kicks against his palm. 

[cynicalrainbows]

The Next Best Thing Chapter 10

Next chapter!

Comments always very welcome and encouraged please!

(And Cathy will mellow towards Anna soon, I promise! Just...y’know, friendship politics are complex when you’re 7.)

Just as Cathy suspected, they hear all about the sleepovers Anna has been on with her friends back in Germany: Greta, who has a swimming pool in the garden that a hedgehog drowned in, and Greta’s Vati had to get it out with a stick, and Hedda, who’s Mutti let them make chocolate crispy cakes for supper, and Sofie, who has an older brother called Mortiz who let them stay in the room while he watched a scary, scary film about a clown that lived in the drain (until Sofie’s Mutti saw what they were watching and gave them popsicles in exchange for promising not to tell their own parents).

It all sounds amazing, except that nothing like that will happen at Anne’s sleepover, Cathy knows.

Anne’s family doesn’t have a pool. Also, Anne’s Mum doesn’t let them in the kitchen (Jane lets Anne bake with her sometimes but the sleepover isn’t at Jane’s house, so that’s no good), and although Anne has an older brother (called George), he doesn’t live with them.

(George lives in London. Cathy has never seen him but she knows that he goes to the Royal College of Art, which is like a school you go to when you’re grown up.

It sounded quite exciting when he first went because it sounded like he was going to paint pictures for a king or a queen, and she and Anne wondered if maybe they’d get to visit him and meet a prince or a princess….but it’s actually nothing like that at all.

Not only does George not paint pictures for anyone even a little bit royal, he doesn’t paint pictures at all.

 Instead, he makes sculptures, which are like people made of clay, except Anne hasn’t seen any of them apart from a picture of one she saw by accident that George had sent in a letter.  Anne said that the clay person didn’t have any clothes on at all, but that she didn’t really see it properly because her Dad saw she was looking at it and snatched it away and made her go up to her room.

She and Cathy giggled all day at the thought of George spending all his time in London making things like that (it’s more evidence that grown ups are really very strange) but Anne’s Mum and Dad don’t find it funny at all, Anne says.

They do lots of cross sighing about waste of money and terrible life choices and utterly obscene whenever Jane asks about him or when he sends them a Christmas card.

 The cards always have pictures that aren’t in the LEAST bit Christmassy on them- once, there was just a photo of a dead cow in a tank- and Anne’s mum and Dad sighed and shook their heads and then put the card in a drawer. 

Once, Anne snuck one out for Jane to read to her because George’s handwriting is too scrawly-small for her to decipher.

 Happy Holidays and all that jazz to little sis, don’t let them grind you down, and tell Janey thanks for her ceaseless efforts to try and smooth stuff over, stay cool x

She thinks Jane left some bits out because the card was full of writing, written all smudgy like the pen has been pressed too hard into the page, that would have surely meant more words. 

But Jane just says the rest is grown up stuff that she shouldn’t worry about.

George hasn’t sent a card for a while though. So chances of him being around to let them watch a scary clown film are low.)

It makes Cathy worried that the lack of older-brothers-with-scary-films and/or swimming pools is going to make Anna turn up her nose at Anne’s sleepover- but she seems just as excited as they are when they’re talking about it.

She shows them both where she’s made a little tally of days to tick off until Saturday in her News book (because the sleepover is sort of like news- it’s news-before-it-happens) and after a while, Cathy gets caught up enough in planning the pillow fortress they’ll make that she stops thinking about how annoying it is that Anna talks about Germany All. The. Time. and thinks about how much fun it will be instead.

Because it will be fun.

Even if Anna is there.

Or maybe because Anna will be there because annoyingly….Anna does have some good ideas.

Sometimes.

And as much as she doesn’t want to, as much as she wants to just hope that Anna goes back to Germany one day soon (or at least to another school)...she actually finds that sometimes, she’s really glad Anna is at their school and not at another.

It’s Anna, after all, who has the idea of excavating the big bit of rock that’s sticking half way out of the school field to see if it’s a dinosaur bone that they’ll be able to sell to a museum for lots of money.

(They don’t get very far, because they have to use twigs instead of proper little trowels and brushes but it’s still exciting to think that maybe that IS what it is and to talk about what it would be like to be famous.)

And it’s Anna who teaches the whole class ‘Feur, Wasser, Blitz, Sturm’ which they get to play instead of normal P.E, and they spend the hour flinging themselves flat to avoid the ‘feur’ (which means ‘fire’) and scrambling up the climbing ropes to escape the ‘wasser’ (which is water), and Cathy thinks it’s a thousand times more fun than having to demonstrate again and again that no matter how hard she tries, she cannot do a cartwheel OR stand on her head for the hundredth time.

So.

Having Anna at the school isn’t ALL bad.

Still, it’s very confusing, and Catalina, for once, is no help at all.

She is in fact annoyingly insistent on telling her that she is to always be ‘nice’ to Anna, and she reminds her lots of times that while she doesn’t have to play with Anna if she doesn’t want to, she is absolutely not allowed to stop Anne from playing with her or from ever discouraging Anna from playing with Anne and I mean it, mija.

She actually looks quite stern and serious when she says it, and it’s a bit uncomfortable to have Catalina look at her like that, so she promises that she won’t.

Still.

It is very confusing.

*

The days drag until the weekend but eventually, Saturday comes.

She’s so excited she can’t finish her breakfast, so excited that she can barely sit still.

(She’s going to a sleepover like a- well, not a grown up but like one of the older girls at school, like one of the characters on television. It’s breathtakingly thrilling.)

Catalina walks her to Anne’s parents house and reminds her about brushing her teeth and saying please and thank you, then hugs her so tightly that she nearly can’t breathe.

‘It’s going to be strange not having you in the flat tonight, mija.’

Cathy thinks that’s a funny thing to say when not all that long ago she was never in the flat at all- but before she can say it, she realises she sort of understands what Catalina means. 

It’s exciting because she’s going to stay at Anne’s house ALL night….but also, she realises now….that means she’s not going to be sleeping in her own room.

The thought of sleeping somewhere else- now that she’s thinking about it- is strange. 

Not bad exactly, but...different, and she realises that her bedroom in the flat has become her room rather than her-room-at-Catalina’s-flat without her even noticing it. 

She wonders, if she was to sleep in the bedroom of her old house now, whether that would feel like going home or whether it would feel strange. 

She wonders if somehow, by some bit of magic or maybe a genie, she was able to sleep in her old bedroom and have everything back to how it was- Mum and Dad in their room down the hall and all her old books, the copies that Catalina didn’t buy back for her, and the clothes that didn’t fit anymore and that got left behind when she was having to pack her things and the toy farm that she didn’t really play with anymore but that she missed the shape of all the same….she wonders if it would feel normal.

Would it feel normal or would she find herself missing Catalina kissing her goodnight and making sure to close the curtains so that there isn’t even the tiniest gap that a scary face could peep through?

 (Catalina once asked her what constitutes a scary face.

 ‘Like a monster, mija?’

 She said no because monsters aren’t real obviously but that not being real doesn’t also mean that they couldn’t look through her window if they wanted to and that monster or not, any face looking through her curtains in the dark would be a scary face.

Catalina nodded and said that since the flat is on the fifth floor, she can see how anything at all looking through her window could be rather disconcerting and that she will make sure to always shut her curtains specially tight to keep out any and all mysterious faces.

She likes that Catalina never tries to use adult explanations to make her not be scared of things, she never tells her that she’s being wrong or silly, even when she knows it is, a bit.)

‘Will you miss me?’

(She wonders suddenly if Catalina will enjoy having the flat back to how it was, if it will make her miss not Cathy but her old life.)

But Catalina nods emphatically before the worry has really had a chance to take hold.

‘Of course, querida. But you shall have such a wonderful time and tell me all about it tomorrow, yes?’

She nods.

‘And you’ll be able to give Anne her birthday present too.’

(She refused to make a card for Anne- although she normally would: card making still makes her feel a bit sick. But she’s proud of how fancy her writing inside the shop brought card looks- all in joined up writing and written with Catalina’s special expensive heavy fountain pen. And she’s proud of the wrapping paper- green with little red dinosaurs all over it- and of the green ribbon it’s tied up with (and of how she managed to curl the ends with scissors all by herself) and she’s most proud of the present itself.

It’s hard picking out presents for Anne, just because she gets new toys a LOT. 

(Kitty does too but she often doesn’t play with them because according to Kitty, Pink Kitty would be sad. For some reason, she prefers hunching up in the playhouse Jane made her out of a fridge box with Pink Kitty to riding in her tiny pink electric car. 

Neither Cathy nor Anne can understand this.)

Anne doesn’t have loyalties like that- she likes getting new things. 

Not just for her birthday or Christmas- last year, Anne got a big new dollhouse for no reason at all and it was the best surprise ever because it just turned up one day in the playroom without a word being said. 

It did spoil it just a tiny bit that getting the dollhouse meant she didn’t get anything for her birthday a week later (because apparently only very greedy little girls would have expected another present after getting the dolls house, according to Anne’s mum) but the dollhouse itself was still excellent, with its lights that turned on and off and all the furniture that matched.

It does make it hard to choose presents for Anne though, because she has so much stuff.

Still. She’s very proud of this present.

They’re standing on the doorstep for all of this, and they haven’t knocked yet, so it’s a surprise when the door opens right up and Catalina gives a very little scream and puts her hand to her chest.

‘Catalina! And Cathy! How are you both?’

Jane is standing in front of them, smiling delightedly, and there’s a small pink Kitty-sized figure holding onto her hand. 

Cathy waves at her and Kitty hides her face in Jane’s skirt.

‘Anne will be so happy you’re here, Cathy! And-’ Jane lowers her voice slightly, turning to Catalina. ‘It’s so good to be able to say thank you again. For-….’

‘Oh it was nothing-’ Catalina waves her hand, and with it, waves away all the scariness from last week. ‘No trouble at all.’ She cranes her neck a little to look behind Jane. ‘Hello, Kitty.’

Kitty presses herself further into Jane, whimpering until Jane picks her up.

‘Can you hello nicely to Catalina, Kitty-Kat?’

It does not seem, from the lack of response, like she can.

‘She isn’t scary!’ Cathy adds earnestly. She’s trying to be helpful but both Jane and Catalina smile as if she’s said something funny, and then Jane’s smile fades.

‘Sorry, she’s just going through a-’

‘It’s completely fine-’ 

‘Strangers are just-’

‘Honestly, don’t worry-’

‘We’re working on it-’

While they’re talking, Kitty risks peeking out at them all- and then stares, transfixed.

After a moment, they all follow her gaze- to the necklace Catalina is wearing. It’s a little silver tiger on a chain- one of Cathy’s favourites and she can see immediately why Kitty is taken with it too.

‘Do you like it, Kitty?’

Kitty flinches back at Catalina talking to her directly- but then pauses before burying her face in Jane’s neck again, as if she’s weighed up her options and chosen to keep looking at this new and wonderful thing.

She nods solemnly, not taking her eyes off it.

‘Would you like to hold it?’

She nods again.

‘You don’t have to-’ Jane interrupts. ‘It’s kind of you to offer but please don’t feel like you have to- We can look with our eyes not our hands, sweetheart.’

‘Oh it’s alright, it wasn’t at all expensive.’ Catalina unclasps the necklace and takes it from around her neck. ‘And I’m sure Kitty will be very, very gentle.’ She pauses. ‘Won’t you?’

There’s a little pause- and Cathy wonders if Kitty has exhausted her communicative powers for the day, maybe she isn’t even going to nod anymore. 

Then- ‘Yes’ Kitty replies, in a very tiny voice. 

She looks up into Catalina’s face for the first time and, when Catalina nods a Go Ahead nod, holds out a hand to gently stroke the tiny tigers little head.

‘Good girl.’ Catalina keeps hold of the chain, but holds it loosely so that Kitty can thoroughly investigate the silver charm with her own small fingers.

She turns it over and over, looks into the tiny face and mews experimentally and then gently strokes it with her forefinger like she’s petting a very tiny cat.

After a moment, she leans back and whispers something to Jane, who smiles and shakes her head.

‘I don’t know, darling. Why don’t you ask Catalina?’

Kitty’s voice is tinier than the tiger. ‘What’s it called?’

Catalina smiles at her. ‘She doesn’t have a name yet. I never thought to give her one.’

Cathy opens her mouth to correct her- it’s true Catalina never gave her tiger necklace a name herself but only because Cathy asked her the same question when she was around Kitty’s age.

She’s just about to tell Kitty that the tiger's name is Stripey, when Catalina gives her hand a quick, tiny squeeze, and she knows, just knows, somehow, without anyone saying anything, that she shouldn’t say a word.

‘What do you think would be a good name for her?’ 

Kitty hesitates for a moment, thinking hard. ‘Silver Kitty’ she says at last. Her voice is a tiny bit stronger.

Catalina nods decisively. ‘Then Silver Kitty she is.’

‘Give her back now, Kitty Kat’ Jane says, and Kitty reluctantly lets go.

‘What do we say to Catalina?’

‘Thank you.’

‘And thank you for the excellent name.’ Catalina says, scooping her hair out of the way to fasten the necklace back on.

Jane is smiling and blinking a bit too much. She sets Kitty back on her feet so that she can help Catalina fumble with the tiny clasp and Cathy catches her whisper.

‘-first time she’s- ever since- thank you so much-’

Catalina murmurs a quick ‘You’re welcome’ back, and then raises her voice slightly and says they should probably let the girls get started with the sleepover and Jane says yes, yes, she’s sorry to have held them up and would Catalina like to pop in for a cup of tea at her own house next door, and Catalina says yes, that would be lovely-

-and then Anne is pulling open the door wearing a new tshirt made of very shiny green fabric that is almost like scales and Catalina is giving her a last kiss goodbye and Anne is grabbing Cathy’s hand and pulling her inside, to where there is already music playing and the tempting smell of birthday cake.

[aroworlds]

Fiction: The Pride Conspiracy, Part Two

December isn't the best time of year for a trans aromantic like Rowan Ross, although—unlike his relatives—his co-workers probably won't give him gift cards to women's clothing shops. How does he explain to cis people that while golf balls don't trigger his dysphoria, he wants to be seen as more than a masculine stereotype? Nonetheless, he thinks he has this teeth-gritted endurance thing figured out: cissexism means he needn't fear his relatives asking him about dating, and he has the perfect idea for Melanie in the office gift exchange. He can survive gifts and kin, right? Isn't playing along with expectation better than enduring unexpected consequences?

Rowan, however, isn't the only aromantic in the office planning to surprise a co-worker.

To survive the onslaught of ribbon and cellophane, Rowan's going to have to get comfortable with embracing the unknown.

Contains: A trans allo-frayro trying to grit his teeth through the holidays, scheming aro co-workers, a whole lot of cross-stitch, another moment of aromantic discovery, and many, many mugs.

Content Advisory: A story that focuses on some of the ways Western gift-giving culture enables cissexism and a rigid gender binary, taking place in the context of commercialised, secular-but-with-very-Christian-underpinnings Christmas. Please expect many references to said holiday in an office where Damien hasn't figured out how to run a gift exchange without subjecting everyone to Santa, along with characters who have work to do in recognising that not everybody celebrates Christmas.

There are no depictions or mentions of sexual attraction beyond the words "allosexual" and "bisexual" and a passing reference to allo-aro antagonism, but there are non-detailed references to Rowan's previous experiences with and attitudes towards romance and romantic attraction as a frayromantic. Please also expect casual references to amatonormativity and other shapes of cissexism.

This section contains multiple depictions of platonic physical intimacy.

Length: 4, 789 words (part two of two).

I’ll have a pride coat! And nobody will have the least idea what it means!

On the last working day of the year, Rowan staggers into the office holding a plate of homemade shortbread—the top layer of plastic wrap bearing the Sharpie-written words “NOT FOR HOUSEMATES BUY YOUR OWN FUCKING BISCUITS”, his mood sour. On the one hand, he’s free until January (although he’ll prefer that circumstance more should this be a paid break). On the other hand, Christmas and its family awfulness tag-team with the heat to curse him with mind-racing, restless 4 AM wakefulness.

He chose right. Didn’t he?

In six days, he’ll have survived the family dinner and his housemates will be with their people or travelling for the holiday. He can bag up his presents for their customary donating, buy something online and spend the day baking food he doesn’t have to share or hide.

Christmas will be an exercise in endurance, but it’s a known terrible. Better to suffer one day of hell and leave than to poke the hydra in each of its eyes and allow it, enraged, to hunt him across the earth. Right?

“Rowan!” Melanie greets him at the door, today wearing a silky blouse with a poinsettia print, a pendant shaped like a miniature tree bauble, and stocking-shaped earrings of the heavy, dangly kind. A Santa hat trimmed with silver sequins and a large golden bell sits atop her short hair. “Merry Christmas!”

“Uh … back at you?”

“You didn’t wear anything Christmassy!” Melanie flutters her hands at him: she painted her glossy crimson nails with white and green stripes like the fancier sort of candy cane. “Can’t you get anything in your size?”

“No...” Rowan glances at his usual outfit: dress shoes, jeans black enough to resemble slacks on forgot-to-do-laundry days, navy shirt.  

Couldn’t he have worn his cherry-red Docs?  

Her suggestion gives him a convenient out, but isn’t he trying to be honest about his feelings? “I didn’t look. Christmas … isn’t that exciting when you’re enduring family.” He barks a laugh, hoping Melanie understands. “At least being trans, nobody asks me if I’m dating anyone or when I’m going to bring someone home to meet the family, because they don’t want to think about trans people in a relationship.” He steps sideways, hoping to navigate around her, put his plate down and move the conversation towards something less fraught. “I made shortbread. Do you like shortbread?”

He stiffens, trying not to panic, when Melanie envelops him in a bear hug, smushing Rowan’s chest and one arm against her necklace. “You spend Christmas with your family?”

“Don’t most people who celebrate it?” He shuffles out of her embrace to slide his cling-filmed plate onto Shelby’s desk beside a plastic container of pizza scrolls. He slips the ingredients card from his jeans pocket, straightens the creases and rests it by the plate. “Uh … is cling-film better or worse for the environment than biscuits in a freezer bag? I had a set of clip-seal containers, but my housemates left me two condiment-sized ones in the cupboard. I could use a bit of plastic or defrost frozen stir fry, except I didn’t know what I’d put that in if I used the stir fry container for the shortbread...”

Rowan realises he’s rambling and presses his lips together before he rants on how his containers must be growing five types of mould in the bottom of Matt’s backpack.

“Happy Holidays, everyone!” Shelby, both arms burdened by plastic cake containers, enters wearing a red T-shirt with the legend “All I Want for Christmas Is a Unicorn”, a glittery ribbon tied around the end of her braid. Only twice before has he seen her without a blazer. “Mel! Your earrings! Millers?”

Rowan swallows a laugh and, freed from awkwardness, heads for the relative comfort of his desk.

A party day, he soon realises, possesses a distressing lack of work. He acquires plates and spoons from the kitchenette, he works on a few photos from last week, he sorts his emails. He notices Melanie pulling Damien aside to talk about something that requires the waving of candy-cane fingernails, but, before he can start to wonder, the volunteer ropes him into a conversation about a loving family with unusual pavlova-eating habits. Shelby saves him from that oddity only to tell the story of her family’s chipping in to get her granddaughter a four-hundred-dollar dollhouse. “My parents wouldn’t have spent that much on a toy! How can anyone charge four hundred dollars for plastic?”

That seems like a good time to head over to the food table.

Shelby does make a good chocolate cake.

“Rowan.” Damien heads towards him, his approach signalled by a trailing, bell-ringing Melanie. “A minute?”

Nothing good has ever been heralded by this question. Nothing.

Rowan nods and follows them over to the whiteboard, standing in front of the List.

“Do you,” Damien says, at least doing the decent thing of asking straight out, “need somewhere to go for Christmas?”

Oh, god. What provoked this horror? Melanie?

Why...?

“We’d non-romantically love to have you.” Melanie’s smile beams as bright as her nails—her lips a close match for their glossy crimson basecoat. “Me and my daughter and her partner, I mean—not me and Damien together. It won’t be anything fancy, but you’re welcome to come.”

“My wife said my telling her about being recipro makes so much sense, and she’d like to ask questions of someone who actually knows things.” Damien nods, his holiday cheer demonstrated in the absence of a tie, rolled-up shirtsleeves and reflectively-shiny shoes. “And I make beer batter fritters.”

Never has Rowan heard Damien speak in aromantic-identity terms with that much casual fluidity, and he would smile but for two co-workers waiting, expectantly, for his answer.

How does he express appreciation for their kindness while explaining that he can’t not go home for Christmas?

A few moments pass before Rowan’s lips and tongue produce sounds that aren’t “I”, “uh” and “I … uh”. “Thanks? But … well, I’d be fine being alone on Christmas and I'm not doing that because … that’d be bad, so... And, you know, family? And I want to see my dog? So ... thanks, but...”

“But you’re one of us,” Melanie says with unusual solemnity, resting a hand on Rowan’s shoulder. “Just like Damien’s now one of—wait, we need to get you a mug! Why didn’t we get Damien a mug?”

“Well, actually...” Rowan, thanking the Aro Gods for Melanie’s willingness to head down any conversational tangent, darts towards his desk and satchel, the latter housing a heavy tissue-wrapped box. Pinkish-red, of course. “Here. Have a mug.”

“Oh! You should have told me!” Melanie’s lips tremble as she and Damien follow him back across the room. “I would have gotten a mug with you!”

Rowan rests the box on his lap, startled. Why didn’t he think to tell Melanie that he bought Damien a mug? (How else does one welcome another into aromantic kinship?) Why didn’t he wait until Damien was busy and order a mug with Melanie, instead of buying one on his phone on the train home from work?

Rowan owns skill in list-making, cross-stitch, baking, fixing other people’s photos and designing his own leaflets. He’s quietly proud of the many arts in which he dabbles with varying degrees of success. He’s mastered, too, survival on the fringes of other people’s lives, survival in a world where few are worth trusting. That ability though, makes him a man too comfortable in isolation. It makes him, in ways that have nothing to do with allosexual frayromanticism beyond his living in an aromantic-antagonistic world, a man who doesn’t know how to welcome other people into the house behind his five-metre fence.

He keeps everyone at arm’s length, even when—perhaps especially when—he plies his crafts for their benefit.

Does everyone experience acute flashes of insight at inconvenient times, the irrevocable sense that their personhood is one bewildering state of immeasurably fucked up?

“I’m sorry. Really.” He passes the mug to Damien, looking at Melanie. “I’m used to doing things on my own. I should have thought, but I didn’t.”

“We do realise that,” Damien says, tearing both wrapping paper and the box lid in a sharp tug. “You got the green-stripe one—oh, wait, it’s got both?” His hands render the mug’s size almost laughable, but Rowan couldn’t find soup-sized variants from a store willing to custom print aromantic flags on crockery. “Mel, there’s both. The recipromantic-only one and the shared one. Thank you!”

Is Rowan imagining that hint of passive-aggression? “You realise...?”

“That you’re independent, that’d you’d rather suffer alone than risk asking for help, even when it causes problems for you. That you’re only comfortable with people when you’re in a position of knowledge or authority. We learnt early on that you work best when we get out of your way.” Damien sets the mug on the desk with a soft clink. “I’m not completely useless in my job, so try harder to stop rolling your eyes over my photos.”

“They’re terrible,” Melanie says, squeezing Rowan’s forearm—apparently forgiven. “You know that, right?”

“The next person to say they can do better has to prove it—”

“My dog photos prove it!”

“At an event! Not in your backyard!”

For a reason likely tied up in internalised ableism, Rowan thought anxiety his designated, annoyance-causing personality failing. His tendency to overreact, freak out, let things get to him; his tendency to shaking hands and rambling incoherence. He didn’t consider that, in the company of people more inclined to decency and less inclined to avoid criticism on deadnaming and cissexism by casting him as the problem, they may find something else frustrating or difficult.

“Is this...” Rowan halts, thinking better of it, before he says the words “being fired just before Christmas”. Even he doubts Damien capable of inviting someone to join him for the holiday only to retaliate with a firing on Rowan’s refusal, although logic doesn’t still his hands. What’s the good of logic if my anxiety still ignores it? “What is this?”

Damien shrugs, tapping a finger against his new mug. “Yearly performance evaluation, maybe? Shame that I’ll have to write it down. I’d rather just call this sort—”

“What’d you say on mine?” Melanie blurts, clapping her hands.

Damien raises both eyebrows. “As if I’d answer that sober!” He shakes his head; Melanie trills her laughter. “We realise that there’s reasons, Rowan. It isn’t a real problem for us, but it may be one for you. If you find yourself in the company of a therapist at some point, consider mentioning it?”

Reining in Melanie wasn’t the reason Damien asked her to work with Rowan, he realises in yet another dizzying, revelatory moment, but that isn’t the cause of Rowan’s spluttering. “If? You think it’s only if? I’d have more aro shit on my desk if I weren’t paying a psychiatrist and a psychologist!” He sighs and nods. “January. I see them January.”

“I don’t like to assume.” Damien shrugs again; Rowan guesses it his attempt at conveying casualness. “Given that this isn’t quite the … er, situation for this conversation, I should—”

“I’m fine,” Rowan says, thinking Melanie’s heedless interrupting a contagious quality. “Really. It’s good. Like actually...” He doesn’t know how to voice this feeling that, for the first time in his life, someone has voiced a critique that doesn’t feel like he’s being disdained or unravelled. “Melanie … again, I’m sorry.” He thinks the time right for another distraction and grabs the second parcel from his bag—tissue paper tied with strands of aro-coloured embroidery floss. “Here. I’ve been working on this. I got your name.”

Melanie lunges for the parcel, struggling to untie the knot with her long fingernails until Shelby—was she close by?—hands over a pair of scissors. Blades click shut; Melanie pulls away the paper.

Twenty square embroidered patches in the purples and greens of many aro-ace and aromantic pride flags cascade from Melanie’s hands onto the worn carpet.

Melanie has always been given to laughter, but the way she bends over, resting her elbows on her knees as though she can’t hold herself up, has Rowan fearing that he’s given her a heart attack via pride patches.

“Aro-ace! Are these all of them?” She draws a shaking breath and carefully kneels, gathering patches. “I didn’t know there were this many!”

“Aro and aro-ace. The ones I know about, anyway. There’s probably a few I don’t.”

“Did you make all these?” Shelby asks. “You should sell them!”

Rowan considers explaining why he’ll never make even minimum wage selling hand-embroidered patches in aro pride flag colours, but Melanie’s pulling him into another grasping hug has him scarce able to breathe, never mind speak. He doesn’t know for how long Melanie smothers him, just that she, like an eventual retreating tide, steps back, leaving Rowan bewildered and giddy. Perhaps this is too much?

“You’re a liar, and this must have taken forever, and you shouldn’t have. I can’t believe you sew!” Melanie shakes her head, shuffling through the patches. “There’s the aro-ace flag with blue and orange, and a combined one, and one without black stripes—oh, thank you!”

Rowan shrugs, relieved that she seems happy. “Do you have something to put them on?”

“I have a coat. I’ll have a pride coat! And nobody will have the least idea what it means!” Melanie grins, shaking her head, before leaning over to tap Damien on the forearm. “Should the rest of us swap gifts now?”

Damien settles himself down on the closest chair. “Good idea. Do you want to—”

“We’re doing Secret Santa now!” Melanie stands on her tiptoes, waving the hand not clutching a handful of patches. “Find your person and give your gift, and then come here and show me what you got! Rowan made me aro-ace patches! All the aro-ace patches!”

“You know your evaluation says ‘needs to stop interrupt—’”

“Quickly, because Damien’s nattering on about performance evaluations!”

Damien sighs, shakes his head and leans back on his chair, looking up at the ceiling. “Lord give me—is that mould up there?”

“Probably,” Rowan says, hoping that he doesn’t look like a man expecting to open a set of golf balls. Did Shelby get him and lie about Melanie? Does that explain the voice recording? “Does the janitor have a step ladder? It’d be easier to tell if we got up close.”

“She does, because of the lighting.” Damien shakes his head. “Remind me first week back to get someone in to look at that. Or to write it on the whiteboard before we leave.” He reaches inside his left trouser pocket, removes a small card-sized parcel held between thumb and pointer finger, and flips it onto Rowan’s lap with surprising deftness. “I think this will be appropriate? While I didn’t know what you planned for Melanie, I saw you working on the train one evening. You had earbuds in and were too busy looking at your hands to notice, but I guessed then you’d made your bag’s patches.”

“It’s hard to cross-stitch on a moving train,” Rowan says by way of apology, a shade confused: what gift needs this explanation? “Hard to cross-stitch well. Not so hard if you don’t care about neatness.” He peels back the tape—Damien wrapped the card the way he presses his suits, the edges inhumanly crisp—and finds a gift card for his local sewing store. Rowan stares, drops the card on his lap and slides his hands under his legs, doubtful he can say anything comprehensible past this isn’t a gift pack of golf balls.

“That’s what you got him? A gift card?” Melanie shakes her head and pokes Damien in the shoulder with startling vehemence; only Damien’s size and his feet, firmly planted on the ground, keep him from falling. “Did you put any thought into that? I don’t like to be that oldie—” She stops, scowling: Rowan can’t hold back his spluttering laughter. “As I was saying, gift cards are the laziest way to—Rowan’s laughing at me, isn’t he?”

Damien tucks his hands behind his head and leans further back in his chair, grinning up at the popcorn ceiling.

Moments—in which Shelby gives Damien a six pack of fancy-looking artisanal beer—pass before Rowan’s ribcage resumes its regular pattern of movement. Finally, he manages to rasp an explanation: “Buying a gift card for a department store? Impersonal, but okay if they shop there. Buying a gift card for a trans man at a clothing shop where every tag has woman on the label? Hateful, unless you know he wants it. Buying a gift card related to someone’s interests so they can pick what they want? Good. And I need fabric, so … thank you.”

“Did someone get you a Millers gift card?” Melanie asks, her hands raised to cover her mouth. “That’s horrible!”

“That’s Aunt Laura,” Rowan mutters. Melanie’s expression of horror, Damien’s surprising evaluation and the wonder of a good, useful present leaves him inclined to truth: “That’s the most considerate gift I’ll get. One with thought that isn’t ‘outright cissexism’ or ‘you’re a man so we’ll ignore your personality to give you the most generically-male of generically-male items’.” He places the gift card and paper on his desk before nodding at Damien, who continues his overgrown Cheshire Cat impression. “Really, thank you.”

Even though Rowan isn’t standing atop his desk to blather about names, the room falls into an uncomfortable quiet.

Shouldn’t someone rustle some wrapping paper? Bite into a biscuit? Thank somebody for their gift? Why aren’t they making noise?

Melanie breaks into a broad smile, threading her fingers together like a self-congratulatory cartoon villain. “Oh, I don’t know about that.”

Rowan’s body, ever alert to strangeness in the people around him, stiffens long before his brain concurs that this change in conversational direction is at minimum odd and veering towards confronting with a high likelihood of I’m so not going to like it.

Damien jerks upright, chair creaking. “Didn’t we talk about how to do this—”

“His aunt gave him a Millers gift card!” Melanie grabs Shelby by the arm and drags her towards the meeting room like an illegal firework gone out of control.

Damien isn’t much an arbiter of this office’s brand of chaos, but he’s the closest thing to a pillar of stability inside this mouse-scented bewilderment and therefore the person at which Rowan directs his questioning: “What...?”

“You know how Melanie gets all enthusiastic?” Damien runs both hands through his already-mussed hair. “She comes up with plans and you can’t so much stop her as guide her in the safest direction and hope you’re alive come the landing?”

Does Damien know that is the worst answer anyone can give to a man with more than one anxiety disorder? At least short of pronouncements like “we volunteered you to give year 12 biology students a seminar on recessive genes and you’re starting right now”? Wasn’t that something to do with the monk who grew beans? Hendel? Mendel? Or did he just grow beans at a monastery for some reason? Or was it peas?

“What...?” Rowan croaks, staring at the dark meeting room like a man waiting to face a starving tyrannosaurus.

“She thought we should demonstrate our acceptance of you, after our failures in this. And then she realised Christmas isn’t a great time of year for you, which made her even more … uh, enthusiastic. I made her promise she’d do this after everyone else left, but...”

Melanie staggers out of the meeting room with a large basket held in both hands, a basket covered with glinting cellophane and decorated with a mix of blue and green ribbons.

Shelby trails after her, clasping another pair of scissors.

Rowan will never understand, never mind be able to explain, the thought processes leading to his diving off his chair for the sanctuary underneath his desk—just that one moment he’s sitting on his chair and the next he’s crouching beside computer cables and a lid from someone’s Pikachu lunch box. Some primeval sense of cave as safety, perhaps … but didn’t prehistoric humanity fear cave bears and cave lions? Aren’t large, bright spaces, with visibility and room to run, safer than small, dark places concealing unknowable predators? What about drought, then? Or deserts? Are there any safe places, really...?

Melanie holds no respect for the ancient tenets of let the hiding man hide undisturbed until he’s ready to stop hiding, but she does rest the basket on the ground at the entrance of Rowan’s desk-cave, blocking legs and chairs from sight. “Merry Christmas,” she warbles from behind the mountain of cellophane and wicker. “We hope there’s something there that you like!”

“Happy Holidays!” Shelby echoes, followed by a few more rounds from the rest of the office. “Do you want scissors? Melanie wraps things like she’s paid to use sticky tape by the metre.”

“We only have cheap tape in the office! It won’t stick unless you use heaps!” A thunking sound echoes from above Rowan’s head, and then Melanie’s candy-striped hand reaches around the leg of his desk, offering Shelby’s scissors. “Here. You’ll ... probably need them.”

There’s something to be said for this workplace’s willingness to treat escapades atop and beneath office furniture as normal, Rowan thinks. Breathe. “Than—uh—thanks.” He takes the scissors, staring at the back of shining cellophane; a miscellany of shapes wrapped in green paper sit within like an aromantic dragon’s treasure hoard.

“Damien, can you make them give us better tape next year?”

“We can have good tape if we stop spending the stationery money on good coffee and your fancy teas?”

“The tape’s fine,” Melanie announces before changing the subject: “Rowan? Are you opening anything? You have to tell us what you’re opening if you’re going to do it down there. Oh, do be careful—I think Liam used to shove his chewing gum under the table.”

Rowan shudders, but better his hair brushing old chewing gum over seeing his gift-opening become the focus of everyone’s attention! He draws a steadying breath, tells himself delay won’t help and slits the cellophane until he can draw out a wrapped box, one suspiciously weighty. At least fifty pieces of tape fasten the flaps on each end; Rowan promises himself that he’ll wrap everything in string and tea towels from now on before ripping into the paper. A mug with five horizontal bands wrapped around its body, the trans flag fading into the aro flag—blue into green, pink into green, white unchanged, pink into grey, blue into black.

Shelby, he thinks in disbelief, the non-existent golf balls making their appearance inside his throat. He rests the mug in his lap before reaching through the cellophane with shaking, sweating hands for another box. Another box with the same dimensions and weight...

“Oh, god,” he whispers.

His co-workers got him a basket of pride mugs for Christmas.

Melanie breaks into ringing laughter.

He needs a moment to find his voice, a moment in which he unwraps a mug with a gradient allo-aro design and another with the aromantic flag on one side and the bisexual flag on the other. “Did you  … did you … uh, get me any coffee to go with all my mugs?”

“It’s on the bottom!” Melanie trills. “And it isn’t just mugs!”

“Mostly mugs,” Damien says.

After another couple of minutes, a gradient frayromantic and a frayromantic-and-allo-aro mug join the collection precariously balanced on Rowan’s thighs. He sighs in relief when the next item in the basket feels soft, flat and light, something rustling underneath the wrapping paper, but a second lot of golf balls settle in his throat when he spots the pink and blue stripes, the drape of fabric: a trans pride flag.  

He can’t swallow, can’t lessen the burn in his eyes or ease the stiffness in his jaw and neck; his fingers fight to tear, peel and grasp. Bewildered to the point of dizziness, he finds an aromantic flag with its glorious green stripes, a frayromantic-and-bisexual mug and the expensive coffee Rowan permits himself on special occasions.  

He scoops wrapping paper and boxes back into the basket before hugging his clinking pile of mugs and flags.

Inchoate feeling abounds: a tangle, a knot of emotion with trailing threads of pleasure and overwhelm, surprise and gratitude, guilt and shame ... and something like the shock of being slapped across the face. They shouldn’t have done this! He shouldn’t be like this! Why is this too much? Why can’t he say “thank you” and express a normal, sensible gratitude for these people doing what Rowan’s family can’t ... instead of struggling with the feeling that Rowan, ungrateful and demanding, doesn’t deserve anything from people who have provoked his annoyance, frustration and alienation?

Mugs. Mugs and flags.

Why does something this wondrous have to hurt so much?

After a few moments, the only sound from him the chink of shifting crockery, someone moves the basket. Melanie sits on the floor and wriggles herself backwards underneath the table, grunting, to sit beside him. For once, she doesn’t speak; she rests a hand around his shoulder and lets him be a shivering mass of man clasping mugs.

Finally, Rowan’s rasping, croaking voice manages a few words: “Is this why Shelby recorded me ... talking about my identities?”

“I told you he thought it was suspicious!” Shelby crawls to Rowan’s other side, her braid trailing over the carpet. “Mel said you’d think it was just me being old—no, nobody does that!” She clasps his forearm, squeezing like a vice on wood. “Mel tried seeing if you’ve got a … all those accounts that aren’t Facebook, where you might say what you are? But she couldn’t find you, so I had my granddaughter show me how to record you. We knew we wouldn’t remember if you just said them.”

“I don’t know all the flags yet,” Melanie says in apologetic tones. “And I thought if I made the others check, they’d learn more about us!”

Part of Rowan feels a habitual spike of terror at the thought of offline people finding his social media accounts; part of him feels a quiet pride at Melanie’s using him to educate others in aromanticism. Most of him, fearing a blubbering breakdown, clings to the lifeline of asking questions: “And why Damien started that whole conversation?”

“We had to know where your mug seller was.” Damien bends down to peer underneath the desk and, at Melanie’s brow-arched stare, adds: “I’m not getting under there! You’ll have to call the SES to cut me out!”

Rowan nods and draws a breath. “I … I...”

“You’re very welcome.” Shelby squeezes his arm again. “Can I have your shortbread recipe? They’re good!”

“Yeah. Bag. Front pocket, left-hand side. People ask, so...” Rowan tries for another slow inhale. It’s supposed to help. Supposed.  

His family expects gratitude said clearly and directly, even when undeserving; they’ll never take emotional speechlessness as its shorthand. They want the formula followed, interactions never deviating from the same narrow structure: gift given, thanks provided, everything right in their world where it’s the thought that counts justifies disrespect of another’s personhood. They avoid messiness and honesty; they fear navigating and acknowledging mistakes and missteps.

They won’t see him as a man, or understand the pain they cause in believing his masculinity something he can put aside for their comfort, because they fear a world with unpredictability and fluidity.

Mum and Dad will never conspire to give him a gift like this. They’ll never want to get to know Rowan well enough to try. They’ll never put his needs ahead of their comfort. They’ll never speak of challenges or difficulties with Damien’s kind casualness. They’ll never want to acknowledge their failures. They’ll never give him an awkward, chaotic Christmas that veers from their notions of how things are supposed to be.

Does he want to endure their narrowness, now that he knows what better looks like?

Does he want to endure their truth that Rowan Ross isn’t a real man to them—and won’t be a real person until he remembers his deadname and the stereotypical trappings of the gender presumed to accompany it?

Or does he want to expect and get something else?

Maybe he doesn’t want a world so predictable his erasure becomes acceptable collateral damage for sticking to the pattern.

Maybe, despite his anxiety, he wants a world where people can surprise him.

“Melanie? Damien?” Rowan, shaking, pokes his head out from underneath the desk. “Can I … can I still spend Christmas with one of you?”

[imagine-that-100]

Drunk | Part 7 |

Description of Part 1: Matty Healy x Reader (Female) | When you come back home to Manchester from University, you get invited to a house party filled with your old friends from high school. You hadn’t seen most of them for 4 years and the house brings back some old memories of the parties you once attended. Getting drunk with old friends ends up being better than you imagined.

Warnings: Cheating

Word Count: 11.4k

A/N: I am so sorry. Please don’t hate me.

Thanks for reading and love you all! Let me know if you want to be tagged x

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| MASTERLIST IN BIO | 

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New Year’s Eve 2011 was one of the happiest days of yours and Matty’s relationship so far. You’d been going out with him now officially for 3 and a half months and you’d honestly had the happiest few months of your life.

New Year’s had to be the weirdest one you’d ever experienced. You were both on your way back from the mini Christmas break that Matty (and Denise) had gotten you for Christmas driving back up from Heathrow Airport.

You don’t know what you did to deserve it, but he’d booked the both of you a couple’s holiday to Paris. And when he told you on Christmas Day, you couldn’t contain your excitement.

You couldn’t stop jumping around your room as he sat on your bed and told you all the details.

“We’re going on the 27th and we come back on the 31st. So, we can still get back for George’s party” Matty told you with a massive grin.

“And we’re doing everything and anything you want” Matty said watching your eyes get wider.

You stopped in front of him and shook your head, not believing him fully. 

“Are you joking right now?” You asked the messy haired brunette.

He shook his head at you and chuckled, “I’ve even booked us in for a couples spa thing at the hotel”

You giggled at that and bit your lip looking at the adorable cross-legged guy sat on your bed. God, he spoiled you rotten, you don’t know what you’ve done to deserve him.

“I can’t believe you” You grin getting up onto your bed to join him.

You manoeuvred yourself onto the bed, so you were straddling him and Matty’s arms went around your waist and he held lower back. Your hands clasped around the back of your neck and smiled at him.

“Why can’t you believe me?” Matty smiled at you, thinking to himself how beautiful he was today.

He hadn’t been this happy on Christmas Day since he was a kid. Growing up was shit but you’d somehow brought a bit of light back to a holiday that previously Matty didn’t like that much anymore.

The only thing Matty still enjoyed about the holiday was Louis’ reaction to everything. He thought that without Louis, he would have stopped celebrating it a long time ago.

But because of you, Matty was having one of the best Christmas’ of his life. You’d both spent the mornings with your own families and Matty had seen his Dad again. And you’d finally got the chance to meet him later on in the afternoon along with a few other people in Matty’s family.

They were lovely people and you enjoyed the time that you got to spend with them. But the real highlight of your day was when you got to give Louis his present.

You’d heard him talking about a new game recently that was for one of his consoles that you had no idea how to work. You found it for him and got it him as a surprise. Along with a load of different chocolate and sweets that you made him promise he would only share it with you.

Louis had given you the biggest hug and made everyone who watched the interaction coo over the two of you. You honestly loved him like a little brother. That’d be why you’d always treat him as one. 

After that though, Matty managed to escape his family and have you all to himself to exchange gifts with you at your house. And he was loving your reaction so far.

“I don’t know, I just don’t believe that you booked the spa for us... I think you fancied getting pampered like the woman you are and are using it as an excuse” You grinned at him.

Matty laughed looked at you with so much admiration and he loved how happy you’d been all day. Not even just in this moment. You were lightning up the whole day for him with your bright smile.

Matty’s arms tightened around you as he said, “You actually do know me too well. I hate it”

At that you giggled before leaning in and pecking his lips thanking him for his joint present with his family. You were completely outdone this Christmas and you felt quite bad when you thought about his presents but there was no turning back now, he was asking for them.

“So, come on then. Ignore my shit present. What did you get me?” Matty asked you cheekily.

You shook your head at his bluntness and started, “I got you a few things actually, but they aren’t as good as Paris”

Matty gave you a look that said, ’Shut the fuck up’ and you tried and failed not to giggle. He looked so cute sat there in the Christmas jumper his Mum forced upon him.

“Okay so you have three different things, but you have to pick what order you want them in” You explained with your own cheeky smile.

Matty frowned a little then, sending you a curious look when you said that. You’d obviously put a lot of thought into this and he was very much looking forward to it.

You continued on to explain, “You have one that’s to do with the band, one to do with me, and one for you but I wanna join in when you got around to it”

Matty sent you a suggestive look when you said the last one and you couldn’t help the giggle that left your lips. You shook your head signifying that the last definitely wasn’t what he thought it was.

Matty took a second, then started of by asking a question.

“Okay, is the one to do with you what I think it is?” Matty asked you with a flirty knowing look.

It couldn’t not be something presumptuous knowing you.

You grinned and giggled, “Maybe”

At that Matty got a bit excited and his grip on you tightened which caused your giggle to continue as he muttered under his breath, “I fucking knew it”

When he started concentrating again, Matty continued, “Right, well that’s gotta be last then because we won’t get around to anything else if we start with that”

You giggled again and nodded. He was definitely right, so you asked him what he wanted first.

“Let’s go with the band thing first. Then it can be just about us afterwards” Matty smiled sweetly but his grip on your hips tightened.

“Don’t get me too excited just yet, like you said babe… You want your other presents first” You grin before kissing Matty’s lips for a good few seconds. 

Matty of course tries to carry the gesture onto something further but you don’t let him have his way this time. You pull away and then stood back up to get his presents from their hiding spot.

Matty couldn’t help but watch as you did so. You looked so adorable and pretty today. 

You were wearing a lovely red long-sleeved dress that flowed down to your mid-thigh with black tights on underneath. Matty thought you looked so Christmassy and so beautiful at the same time. 

You wore your Y/H/C hair down and Matty just wanted to cuddle you for the whole night. Ever since he saw how happy you were when you came around to his house earlier in the day, that was all he’d wanted to do.

He hugged you tightly throughout the day because he just couldn’t stop himself. All he wanted to do the whole day was keep you close. You just looked so innocent and precious and Matty just wanted you all to himself.

You came back over and sat on the side of your bed and offered him the first gift. The first was in a gift bag because it was cute and small. 

You’d gotten him an engraved glass plaque of the bands logo. It was the box with one of the first The 1975 logo’s that they’d created. It had the 3 dots underneath and it was a simple and elegant design that you were glad the band had chosen. At least until Matty changed his mind again.

You also got their signatures engraved into the inside of the box. You’d managed to get a good enough photo of their old Drive Like I Do CD which the person you bought it off online happily included their signatures onto the plaque.

You watched as Matty opened it and you could tell he loved it. You thought that you would explain a bit of your thinking behind the present. “I thought you would be self-absorbed enough to put it up in your room”

Matty let out a loud laugh at your comment and he nodded. “Yeah I really am… Thank you I love it!” He said before pulling you into a hug.

You hugged him back tightly and you just needed a little bit of confirmation from him. That one was the one you’d been most excited to give him, so you just had to ask “Do you like it?”

“Yeah, I love it so much. Thank you!” Matty excitedly said down your ear, before he started pecking your cheek with kisses.

You pulled away with a little giggle and you sat looking at him admiring the gift. His curls were down over his face and he was running his fingers over the engraving.

You smiled, “It’s okay, I just saw that someone made them and I knew I needed to get something band related for you”

“Well it’s amazing. Thank you” Matty said before pecking your lips.

You smiled, enjoying the sweet gesture before moving onto the next gift that was sort of for the both of you. You pulled out a hamper that you’d made for him. 

Inside it was a bunch of Quentin Tarantino movies that you knew Matty liked purely because of the director alone. The hamper was also full of different treats. It had all of his favourite snacks in there and a load of popcorn that you honestly couldn’t wait to crack open in the new year.

You also got him two cinema night’s for two at the local one in Wilmslow called The Rex. All this along with some money that you knew he’d been trying to save for to save up for the guitar he wanted.

Matty got excited looking at every little thing you’d included. He got really excited when he saw all of his favourite sweets in there. You couldn’t stop giggling when he got really excited over a bag of Skittles.

When he’d calmed himself down after seeing all the different things in your hamper, he moved his gifts onto your desk, so they were out of the way. When he sat back down on your bed, he pulled you onto his lap, so you were straddling him again.

It was an innocent act though he just wanted you close and your arms were wrapped around his neck and his were around your back. He hugged you so tightly your heart swelled.

You genuinely loved him so much and you just wanted to tell him, but you held yourself back. You in no way wanted to scare him off because you did really like him and wanted the good times with him to continue.

“Thank you so much. For everything” You softly tell him, moving back slightly so you could look into his bright brown eyes.

“No thank you. I’ve literally had the best Christmas in a long time and that’s down to you, so thank you” Matty said and you can’t help but kiss him quickly.

Matty kissed you back with a lot of emotion. You felt how genuine it was and you honestly got lost in the moment. Your fingers found their way into Matty’s curls and his arms tightened around your body, so you were pressed against him.

Things progressed and Matty’s tongue ran over your bottom lip and you smiled into the kiss, not letting him have his way straight away. You wanted to keep him waiting a second longer.

But Matty grew slightly impatient with that so he brought his right hand up and held your throat with it. You groaned immediately when he applied the bit of pressure, he knew you loved. His tongue found his way into your mouth where he then proceeded to get you into the mood that the night was quickly turning to.

But you still couldn’t wait for him to see what else you had in store for him. You pulled away when he dropped his hand from your throat, and you smiled at him.

“Do you want your last present?” You asked him seductively.

Matty gazed at you with lust filled eyes before nodding his head like an excited little boy. You giggled down at him and kissed him slowly a few more times before you pulled away and lent back on his lap so he could see you a bit more.

“Unwrap your last gift then” You smirked down at Matty before biting your lip.

You watched as he hesitated looking for where to start. You helped him out a little bit and unclasped his arms from around your back and moved them, so they were resting on your thighs.

You pushed his hands down so they were below where your dress ended and then lifted them back up, so his fingertips started to go underneath your red dress.

Matty then got to grips with himself and started pushing your dress higher up your body. He did it slowly though, as if taking in everything that he definitely didn’t expect to be under the dress.

Matty thought you were wearing tights originally but no. You were wearing stockings that were being held up by the straps that were connected to your new lingerie.

Matty’s face was a picture. As soon as his eyes looked at the straps you saw the excitement in his eyes.

The palms of his hands brushed up your thighs and you were getting excited just by his touch alone. You knew when he saw what was hidden underneath you were going to have one of the best nights of your life.

When your dress bunched you and Matty’s eyes landed on your lingerie you saw the excitement in his eyes turned to lust. And at that point as Matty kept slowly lifting your dress higher and higher.

Matty was just expecting some new lingerie but no you’d gone the extra mile. Matty felt himself get uncomfortably excited when he saw the leather body harness that you were wearing underneath your innocent outfit.

When he lifted your dress high enough, you took over and lifted it over your head. Once it was removed, you smiled down at Matty who now didn’t know where to look.

He looked like a kid in a sweet shop. He didn’t know where to start. 

You smirked at him when he groaned a, “Fuck me” whilst trying to process everything he was seeing.

“Okay” You smirked as you pushed him backwards onto the bed.

~*~*~

Paris with Matty was amazing. You’d never had a holiday like it.

To be honest though, you’d never been on a couple’s holiday, so that was an experience in itself. Matty had definitely enjoyed the spa day more than you but you’d had an amazing time.

You did enjoy yourself in the spa, but you were holding back laughter the entire time because of how much you knew Matty was loving it.

Whilst you were in Paris, you did so much. The day you got there you both settled into the hotel with ease and Matty tried to get you into bed sooner rather than later. However, you dragged him out to explore.

You were in a different country for the first time in years. You wanted to explore and have your own adventure with him.

The trip was amazing. You did everything that you wanted to do and even did the corny couple’s stuff that you always wished you’d secretly do.

You kissed on top of the Eiffel Tower which was one of the most magical moments of your relationship so far. You got your picture taken together below it and whilst you were there, Matty made you take a picture of him trying to ‘hold’ the tower.

It was so funny because he wouldn’t let you off until it was perfect. You joked that you were never going to go to Pisa with him and he told you to fuck off whilst laughing away.

All of the failed attempts were hilarious but the one where he got it right was the best. He looked so happy it just made your heart swell.

On one of the days you went sightseeing with him and you both had a really fun time. Matty loved watching how excited you were getting at every little thing.

At one point you got emotional because you saw a building that you saw in a film once and Matty started bullying you for it. He couldn’t keep a straight face as you teared up getting yourself that excited, because you’d seen a building in real life that you’d seen on TV.

Other than the slight bullying, you both had an amazing time. Matty was in complete awe of you the whole time. You were so happy about everything and when you looked towards him your smile only ever got bigger.

Matty had noticed that no one had ever looked at him the way you did. All he saw in your eyes was pure happiness and he was fairly certain he could look into your beautiful Y/E/C eyes and never get bored. He’d probably even say that they were even prettier than the sights around him.

When the time came, you both didn’t really want to come home. The 3 and a bit days just wasn’t long enough and you definitely wanted to go back again with him at some point.

But you’d both had the best time and despite getting back to the UK at 1pm in the afternoon you had your favourite day with him.

You were flying back into Heathrow because that was the only flight that would get you back home earlier enough to be at Georges Party. You don’t know why there was a set time that you had to be back but the boy wanted both of you there.

It was New Year’s Eve. To you, the only time you needed to be back for was midnight.

But you and Matty had planned ahead for this. You’d hired a car so you could both have a road trip back home, and, in the end, you were really glad it happened.

Matty started the driving back home and you happily controlled the music from the passenger’s seat. The 5 hours it took you to drive back home was really the best 5 hours of your holiday.

It was just the both of you being yourselves. About halfway home, you were chatting shit about literally nothing after you swapped over at a service station.

You were on the motorway driving back and you just finished chatting about the holiday and you were currently singing along to one of your favourite songs.

You were nodding your head singing along to Bulletproof by La Roux when you could feel Matty’s eyes on you. You glanced over at him keeping most of your attention on the road, but you caught a few glimpses of him and you saw that he was smiling at you.

“What?” You asked with an embarrassed smile.

Out of the corner of your eye you could see him shake his messy head at you, but the smile was still on his face.

“Nothing” He told you.

You glanced at him sceptically but for some reason you couldn’t stop smiling. You glanced at him again saying, “It’s gotta be something?”

“I just love you” Matty admits, which makes your eyes go wide. 

You never thought for one minute that Matty would be the one to say it first. You’d wanted to say it so many times on the holiday, but you just thought it would scare him off, so you kept it to yourself.

You looked towards him with a pleasantly surprised face. You weren’t shocked per say because of how different things were with the both of you compared to the way things started.

For example, Matty was different. He was a better version of himself. 

He seemed happier and more relaxed and that was always amazing to witness because no matter how carefree he seemed to be you knew him very well and he seemed genuinely happy around you.

He also wasn’t drinking as often and wasn’t doing as many drugs as you knew he typically did. He was a lot healthier in his mind and in himself.

Things had also been different between the both of you. Both emotionally and physically. The sex was no longer all or nothing, it had become more intimate and you never thought it would, but it made everything better.

Yes, sometimes you were both down for a good fuck but Matty had been taking things slowly and pacing it out. It was so intimate, and you genuinely loved it when he was sensitive. He honestly sometimes seemed like he was just admiring every single part of your body.

“Do you actually?” You asked Matty genuinely. 

Not in a way that seemed like you didn’t believe him. It was more for your own reassurance, but the look on your face just confirmed to Matty what he had just said.

He truly did love you and watching your contently singing your heart out after a wonderful time away together seemed like it was just as good of a time as any to tell you. 


“Yeah, I really do” Matty grinned as he could see how happy you looked.

“Awh! I love you too” You coo doing your best to keep your eyes on both him and the road. He looked so unbelievably happy in this moment, It warmed your heart.

“Really?” Matty asked looking excited.

“Of course I do. I’ve been trying not to say it for weeks because I didn’t wanna scare you off” You grinned and couldn’t help but Matty chuckle.

“I can’t believe you told me whilst we were driving though. I wanna kiss you so much right now” You admit pulling a sad face because all you genuinely wanted to do right now was kiss him until you both lost your breath.

Matty chuckled at that and softly apologised but he couldn’t help himself. Watching your sing in your own little world just solidified that he needed to just tell you the truth.

Matty lent to the side and grabbed the side of your face and brought your cheek to his lips. He held you there for 10 seconds or so as you giggled at his behaviour.

“You are without a doubt the best thing that’s happened to me Y/N Y/L/N. I love you” Matty told you and you wanted to cry hearing that.

You struggled with your reply because you wanted to get so many words out but also express your emotions through your actions. 

“I love you too Matthew Healy” You bare your heart to him, trying not to tear up.

“Oh no, have you seen another building from a TV show, or have I made you cry?” Matty asked, taking a hold of your hand that you weren’t currently using to drive.

You chuckled and blinked a few times trying to clear the tears from your vision. You shook your head and joked, “I hate you”

Matty scoffed, “I thought you loved me?” And you giggled at his joke.

“I really really do” You reassured him, giving his hand a tight squeeze. You glanced over at him and you shared the most adorable moment of pure adoration.

On that drive home you were the happiest you’d been. You didn’t things could get better than Christmas Day or Paris, but he’d literally just made you the happiest woman alive.

And later on at Georges Party, you kissed your boyfriend at the stroke of midnight. Instead of celebrating moving into 2012 the first thing you both admitted when you parted was, “I love you” 

~*~*~*~*~*~

The same time, exactly a year later, you were at another party but this one was much more important. New Year’s Eve 2012 was probably one of the most important days in Matty’s and the bands lives. They were finally releasing their first studio album out to the world.

When midnight struck Matty’s lips were on yours again the same time as last year and a second later you heard The City started blaring out of the loud speakers.

You were at their album release party and you were so so proud of all 4 of your boys. Over the past year you’d seen how much they had grown as artists and you were beyond proud of them.

They had worked so hard to get their first 2 EP’s out and you honestly loved it when they were released. You watched all of Matty’s hard work pay off and all the low times you’d experienced the past year were worth it because it got him to the high moment that was the release dates of the 2 EP’s.

The Facedown EP got released in August and you loved it with the whole of your heart. On that one you loved Antichrist so much. It was one of you favourites of theirs but Matty never sang it for you. You loved your boyfriend but sometimes he was a stubborn prick.

In the November they released the EP that you believed was Matty’s favourite and to be fair to him the Sex EP was amazing. He had worked so hard on it that sometimes he literally called you up when they were down in London recording because he just needed an outlet.

Sometimes he just needed to vent, and you were always there for him much like he was there for you.

You’d heard a lot about the recording that the boys had done in London over the year but after almost every session Matty always phoned you up and told you what went down. You both did really miss each other when he went away.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t experience everything with him. You had your commitments to your job at your old school and you honestly loved what you did.

But it did mean that you had to miss some of the slightly more important things to do with Matty’s unfolding career. Matty, however, was always too excited about everything which meant that you never really missed anything.

And you honestly loved it when he called you up to tell you about what happened. You remembered when they released the EP for Sex too which was an amazing night.

Matty had been so nervous he stayed on the phone to you for hours, but you were on your laptop looking through what people were saying about their music. And the majority of the responses were amazing.  

Everyone really seemed to be loving it, just like you were, and you couldn’t stop telling Matty how proud of him you were.

So, when the album came out you couldn’t contain your excitement. You were so proud of them and you had it playing everywhere. There wasn’t a song on it that you didn’t enjoy.

The album release was probably one of the most exciting parties you’d been to with the band. It had so many important people there for them and you teared up when the boys gave their speech thanking everyone for everything.

The party was a huge success and so was the album. Everyone seemed to love it and it was a great way to start off 2013.

The boys started touring in March and you missed your man like crazy. They were going away for god knows how long and you were so gutted you couldn’t go with them because of work.

Matty of course understood because he fully supported you with your work over the past 19 months that you’d been officially seeing each other. He got you through the really difficult times you’d had when you felt like you were shit at your job because a few students seemed to be getting worse not better.

Their health and wellbeing was one of the most important things to you, so some days you would come home feeling completely defeated when you felt like you didn’t help anyone.

You loved the kids that you helped so it really hurt your heart when you felt like you weren’t giving them what they needed.

If Matty was in Manchester, he would be the first over to comfort you despite your friends from high school and now Ava all living close by. He held you when you got emotional about it and tried his best to cheer you up when you were feeling down.

He always had a welcome distraction planned for you and if he was in London, he did the same. He would distract you by Skyping you and he would show you everything he’d been up to whilst he’d been away.

You made the relationship work despite the distance between you. And you grew more in love with him every day.

In a way, you thought that the distance also helped your relationship to because whenever Matty came home you felt like you got to fall in love with him all over again. You were always hit with the wave of positive and loving emotions when you were finally in his embrace again and you loved it.

You guessed distance really did make the heart grow fonder.

The 1975’s tour started off with a shorter run of gigs. It was their first tour after all, and Jamie and Dirty Hit had been so accommodating for them you were jealous you couldn’t experience it with them.

Of course, you went to their Manchester gig when they started the tour off and wished them all good luck and reluctantly said your goodbyes to them after the show finished. You and Matty said a long goodbye to each other before he got on the tour bus.

You really did miss him when he went away but you wouldn’t sacrifice his dream for anything.

He was finally getting what he wanted, and both of your dreams were taking off. You were happy in a secure job and Matty was going on the tour of his life. He was becoming the Rockstar he always said he would be.

And you were so proud of him.

They seemed to be having such a good time. You followed all their social medias and you obviously got sent videos of them and you were so happy seeing your boys on stage. They were definitely meant to be up there.

They were finishing the gigs off in London at the end of April and you’d booked the Friday off work so you could go down and surprise Matty.

You hadn’t seen him in person for 2 months and because of both of your work you hadn’t chatted as much as you wish you did like before they were being asked to do longer sets and in bigger venues.

The last time Matty had called you he told you that because of the public’s demand for their show’s they were doing another UK tour almost straight after. This time the venues would again be bigger, and more fans could get in to enjoy their incredible music.

You were over the moon for them because this is what they had all wanted for so long. It had quite literally been Matty’s lifelong goal to get to a place where they were selling out venues and here, they were.

They were easily selling out the O2 Apollo in Manchester and you had no doubt they would one day sell out Manchester Arena and quite possibly even the O2 in London.

The only person you told that you were coming down to surprise them was Adam because you knew he was the only reliable one of the group and he would actually keep it a secret.

So, you texted Adam once you parked up somewhere near Brixton academy. You’d got there an hour and a half before the boys were due on stage and you couldn’t wait to be at the front cheering them on, just like you were in Manchester the previous month.

Adam came at met you at the back entrance and he let you in after giving him a massive hug. You loved Adam so much and thanked him for keeping it a secret from Matty and the rest of the boys.

Adam told you that it was fine, and that he was just glad for you to be back around again. He explained that he was hoping you’d get Matty back to normal and bring him down a peg or two.

Apparently, Matty had been thinking he was the shit. Like his ego had grown more than the boys had ever thought possible so when you told Adam you were coming, he jokingly pleaded with you to come earlier and whip him back into shape.

You, of course, would definitely remind Matty that he was just a normal guy and that he was no one special. He was still the same kid from Wilmslow who was in a band they’d started when they were 13.

Just because they were selling out venues didn’t mean the person on the inside was any different.

Adam led you to a room that he thought both Ross and George were in first to surprise them but unfortunately only Ross was in there. George must have gone out exploring because you only had Ross to surprise in that specific room.

He was thrilled to see you though. He jumped right up and gave you a massive hug with the biggest smile on his face. 



“I can’t believe you’re here” Ross said giving you the best hug you’d had in ages.

You hugged him back tightly, “I couldn’t miss this one! Ava was gunna come but she got called into work last minute… So she’s really sorry but told me to give you a big kiss from her anyway”

You then proceeded to plant a kiss on his cheek which made Ross chuckle when he released you. Adam was called away by a tech guy who needed to ask him something about the set-up of his guitar, so you reluctantly said goodbye to him for the time being.

You asked Ross where everyone was, and he told you that George said he would be back in a minute, but he had no clue about Matty. He presumed he would be in one of the other dressing rooms getting himself emo’d up, which wouldn’t surprise you in the slightest.

You’d walked into his room at home multiple of times to see him putting on his black nail polish or some eyeliner. He did it more than you did which made you laugh on multiple occasions.

After 5 minutes though, George still hadn’t returned so Ross suggested that you both go and try to find Matty which you agreed to. You honestly couldn’t wait to see him and give him the biggest hug and kiss.

You’d had a shitty time apart recently, just because you were missing him so much. So you were really eager to surprise him.

You thought that it would be just what the both of you needed. You loved him so much, you couldn’t wait to cheer him on and be in his arms later tonight.

After trying the first two dressing rooms and not finding anyone, Ross told you that he knew he would be in the next one, so you allowed yourself get really excited.

“I can tell you’ve missed me as much as you’ve missed him” Ross joked as you walked through the corridor.

You were quite clearly ecstatic to be seeing Matty again. Ross had never seen you this bubbly or excited. 

“Shut up you. You know I’ve missed you loads! I just love him and feel like I haven’t seen him in a year” You told him, and Ross of course understood.

Ross pointed to the room that he knew Matty would be in. He really wouldn’t be surprised if Matty was in there applying make-up or if he was passed out asleep on the sofa.  

Either way Ross could see how excited you were and instructed you to go in first. You sent Ross a quick smile and pushed the door open with a spring to your step.

You were so eager to see Matty it was unreal. To you it really felt like you hadn’t seen him in forever.

You’d been so stressed with work and you’d really missed him.

But apparently that was a one-sided ordeal because when you walked into the room you stopped dead and your blood ran cold. You felt Ross walk into you behind you, but you’d already gone numb and felt sick.

Ross looked down at you wondering why you’d stopped so suddenly but then he raised his eyes.

Matty’s tongue was in a brunette’s mouth and they were both shirtless. The pair on the sofa were on each other like animals and you’d started to tear up looking at the sight in front of you.

You felt your heart shatter into a million pieces as soon as your eyes landed on the scene that was playing out in front of you. Your vision was getting blurrier by the second, but you couldn’t take your eyes away.

You willed yourself to wake up from the godawful nightmare that you were experiencing. There was no other explanation for it.

You literally spoke to Matty 2 days ago on Skype and he wouldn’t stop telling you how much he loved and missed you. You just didn’t understand.

The only thing that knocked you out of your shocked state was when Ross shouted from behind you, “What the fuck?!”

This seemed to shock everyone in the room because Matty broke away from the girl and looked around the room to find where Ross’ voice had come from. But his face changed to one of complete shock when he saw you stood there, looking like you’d just seen a ghost.

Matty could see the tears in your eyes from where he was, and his face immediately dropped. He went from looking excited to deflated in a matter of seconds. Probably the same way you were excited to see him but now your world was completely shattered.

The tears had already started to fall and it didn’t help that everyone was just stood there frozen in place. But that didn’t last long.

Matty made a move to come towards you and you unfroze immediately, backing yourself up into Ross. The apology didn’t form in your mouth, but you pushed yourself back against him to slip back out of the door.

“Y/N/N” You heard Ross say softly but you needed to leave. 

You couldn’t stay. Not after seeing that.

You hastily walked down the corridor and you could vaguely hear Ross following behind you. You turned the next corner and pushed through the door.

You didn’t even go the way you knew you could get out you kept walking around the labyrinth that was backstage of the venue with tears streaming down your face.

You didn’t know where the next door would take you but it led you down another corridor, but you heard your name being called from in front of you.

“Oh my god Y/N. What are you doing here?” George grinned, jogging his way towards you, opening his arms towards you for a hug.

You ran into his arms and a sob immediately ripped through you. You felt like you were about to collapse. Your heart hurt so much, and your chest felt empty but so heavy at the same time.

You just didn’t understand why it was happening. You loved Matty so so much and the more you thought about what you just witnessed, the more hysterical you got. When you didn’t reply to George though, he realised you were sobbing and starting to hyperventilate.

“Shit Y/N/N, what’s wrong?” George asked worriedly. 

He’d never seen you like this before and the fact that you were here out of the blue scared him even more.

You looked up at him and tried to make words form but you were really struggling, and George could see that. But then you heard shouting and the doors that you just walked through slam open.

George looked up and saw Ross and Matty shouting abuse at each other but then he looked back down to you realising you were about to say something to him.

“He’s cheated on me George” You managed to get out before another sob caused you to choke up and you hugged yourself back into his chest.

You didn’t see it, but George’s face turned to one of pure anger. As soon as his eyes connected with Matty’s, he got the angriest he’s ever been at his best friend.

“Get him the fuck away from her right now” George told Ross with venom laced in his voice. Ross knew it wasn’t directed at him, but the anger laced in his voice scared him.

Ross didn’t even want to think what fear that would have instilled into Matty. George hugged you closer to him not fully understanding what happened, but he believed you without a second thought. And his own heart broke for you.

“Y/N” Matty shouted but George just felt you sob again and hug him tighter. 

It was like you were holding onto him for dear life. He literally thought you were about to break in his arms, and he guessed you already sort of were which hurt him more.

“You better fuck off before I hit you” George shouted at Matty seeing red.

And something about it actually caused Matty to pause enough for Ross to physically move him. Matty didn’t know if it was because if it was the drugs or that George was genuinely fucking scary at that moment.

“I need to speak to her” Matty shouted back stopping in front of Ross.

“You can do that when she wants to. Move now” Ross said pushing against him again.

George had started moving you down to the opposite direction. You don’t remember getting there but the next time you move your head away from George’s chest you are in a room with just him.

You don’t remember sitting down but you find that your sat next to him crying into his chest. You pick your head up off his chest and looking at Georges face just makes you want to cry again.

You were embarrassed and just wanted to hide away and never see anyone again. You were literally crying into Matty’s best friends’ chest, why was this your life.

“Hey, come on” George cooed, moving his arms from around you to your face so he could wipe the tears away for you.

He’d never seen someone so distraught in his entire life and when your lip started wobbling, he knew you were about to break again.

“I love him so much George. Why would he do this to me?” You barely managed to get out. Your heart hurt so much it was hard for you to breathe and get everything out.

“I don’t know” George said honestly. 

He’d not even noticed Matty becoming distant from his relationship with you. Yes, they were down in London a lot, but George knew the effort you made to keep in contact.

“I just don’t get it” You cry, wiping your tears away and calming down for a second.

But that quickly changed when your voice cracked, “He was all over her George”

Listening to that, George’s heart hurt for you. He couldn’t even imagine what you were going through.

Your chest was tight, and it hurt so much. All you wanted to do was sob until you had no tears left. You felt completely broken.

“I just walked in and they were both half naked and he was all over her and I can’t get it out of my head” You rambled through your tears.

George shushed you gently pulling you back into him so he could be your shoulder to cry on again.

After about 20 minutes, George had magically calmed you down so you weren’t crying as much anymore. Your chest still felt horrendously tight and your breath was shaky, but you weren’t crying as much.

Your brain was working a bit more and you were able to process what was actually happening. George was keeping you calm by his presence alone, but you had t get something off your chest.

“I don’t know why you’re here with me George. I know were friends but he’s your family” You said standing up wiping the few tears that fell.

George stood up to and put his hands on your shoulders saying “Woah Y/N…”

“Don’t you ever think that I would stick up for him when he’s done this. I’ve been looking about for you a lot longer than that fucker out there” George said, and he saw your eyes well up again.

“Y/N/N come here” He said hugging you into him again.

You felt him run a hand up and down your back giving you the comfort you so desperately needed right now. 

“Thank you” You whispered into his body and held you closer.

After a minute of staying like that in George’s arms you pulled away and said, “I need to speak to him, don’t I?”

“Not tonight you don’t. Not if you don’t want to anyway” George told you. 

You could tell he was getting himself angry at the thought of Matty again.

“I think I need to Georgie” You told him but then there was a knock at your door.

It was Ross saying that the gig was starting in 10. He came in and gave you the biggest hug apologising for everything, but nothing was his fault. It was Matty’s and Matty’s alone.

George got one of the crew that he’d recently become friends with to drive your car and drop you off at his and Matty’s shared flat. You were in no fit state to currently drive so George was glad you didn’t go against him on that.

You obviously didn’t want to stay and watch the gig and you wouldn’t let George cancel it despite his protests.

You said you would wait there to speak to Matty and to be honest you could definitely use the alone time to get your emotions out and gather your thoughts. George saw you out and gave you the keys to their flat and him and Ross gave you the biggest hugs before you left.

George reluctantly walked back into the building, feeling like pure shit. He walked back with Ross to a room that Matty was situated in.

When Matty saw George, he stood up and made his way towards him. George could smell the weed from the door so when he got closer it was almost unbearable.

And that was saying something. George smoked it a fair amount but everything about his best mate in front of him was wrong. He was completely pissed and high as fuck.

“Where is she? I need to see her” Matty asked, trying to get past George.

“Sit the fuck back down. You’re not seeing her right now” George said not moving an inch.

“George come on, I need to sort it out” Matty tried again this time trying to push past him.

This just caused George to see red once more. “She doesn’t want to see you right now. She’ll see you back at ours after the show to talk”

Matty looked relieved at this information and placed a hand on George’s shoulder. “Thank you so much mate”

George shrugged his hand away and said “Don’t fucking touch me. The only reason you aren’t on the ground right now is because we’ve got a gig to do”

George then proceeded to walk past Matty, barging into his shoulder as he did so.

~*~*~*~

After hours of collecting your thoughts at Matty and George’s flat, you felt prepared for what you had to say to Matty when they arrived back.

But of course, things never turn out as planned when your emotions start running high. As soon as Matty came back into the same room as you the tears started burning your eyes again.

And about 10 minutes of Matty apologising you’d had enough.

“Stop apologising now. If you were actually sorry you wouldn’t have done what you did in the first place” You said trying to hold back the tears.

After that you sighed and sat back down on their sofa. Matty didn’t seem to know what to reply to that, but you then started up again as the tears started falling down your face.

“I love you and you know how hard it was to let myself do that… And you let me believe you loved me. For over a year. Which is worse” You told him quietly.

Matty looked at you out of the corner of his eye and quietly returned, “But I do love you”

Lies, you thought. You shook your head letting the tears fall. 

“No, you fucking don’t. You wouldn’t have done this to me if you loved me”

“Y/N” He started, and he tried to come near you but you flinched away.

You shook your head, “No”

“Don’t” You told him.

“I don’t want you to come anywhere near me” You said sternly.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you” Matty told you staying in his spot in front of you.

“No, you didn’t mean to hurt me, did you?” You scoffed wanting to throw something you were getting that angry.

“You didn’t mean to hurt me because you were just gunna come back home and fuck me like you’d fucked no one else in-between” You said stating the truth because that is what would have happened.

It hurt to think about but if you hadn’t interrupted there’s no way it wouldn’t have happened. And you would have been the doting clueless girlfriend waiting at home for her man to come back.

“It wouldn’t have hurt me because you weren’t going to tell me” You stated.

“Y/N, I’m sorry. Please please forgive me” Matty tried again but you shook your head.

“No” You told him. “You don’t get to cheat on me and expect to be forgiven for it”

“You’re just sorry that you were caught” You told him and Matty couldn’t even look you in the eye. 

That action itself, spoke volumes.

You put your head in your hands so you could hide yourself. You also tried to contain the sob that was dying to come out. You took a deep breath and sighed.

You went silent for a minute and then you let out a juddery breath. Leaning back against the settee, you closed your eyes and whispered to yourself, “I just can’t believe it’s happened again” 

Matty looked at you and asked, “What do you mean ‘again’?”

“You’ve done the same thing that Miles did” You said remembering back to your first real relationship before University.

Miles was your first proper boyfriend, but he was a year old than you so when he went to Uni the year before you did, things became difficult.

“He left to go to Uni and cheated on me because he couldn’t wait until he came back home” You clarified to Matty for the first time.

When you’d previously spoken about your past relationship, you just told him that you’d been cheated on and didn’t really want to talk about it. Because what else was there to say? 

You’d let someone in and they had disappointed you. Just like Matty had done now.

Hearing those words fall from your lips causes Matty to have a lightbulb moment.

It finally clicked what you said just over two years ago now back at your university. The memory came back to Matty of you saying why you only wanted a relationship when you got back home from Uni and not one whilst you were still in Leeds.

He’d always meant to ask you about it but always forgot when the memory came back. You’d said that ‘People don’t tend to wait for what they want’ and Matty’s gut dropped at the realisation. He really was a fucking dickhead.

At that point Matty looked at you and dropped onto his knees right in front of you and begged, “Y/N, please forgive me”

The messy haired boy continued, “I was drunk and high. I didn’t know what I was doing. I’m not like him, you know I’m not”

“Well you fucking are! You think that getting completely wasted gives you the fucking excuse to cheat on me and make me feel like a worthless piece of shit. No, it fucking doesn’t Matty. You’re a fucking prick” You started again picking yourself up of the sofa.

“Y/N please. I love you so much, don’t do this” Matty said, throwing those words around again and you rolled your eyes as he stood himself up.

“No, you don’t love me Matty. You just don’t... George loves Jess. You do not love me” You reiterate trying to spell it out for him.

“What do they have to do with anything?” He asked and you looked at him like he was thick.

“Can’t you understand it? George would never do this to Jess because he loves her so fucking much. So just stop lying… Stop saying you love me because you don’t” You told him, and you could hear the seriousness in your voice.

“They aren’t us” Matty tried but you just him off.

You shouted at him then, “No, they are fucking better! Because George wouldn’t do this or make anyone feel like this”

“I didn’t mean to. I really fucking do love you.” 

Those words again. 

Lies.

“No, you don’t!” You yelled and the tears started falling again. “If you loved me like I actually love you, there’s no way you would even look at someone else, let alone touch them”

When you said that Matty walked toward you, grabbing your hand in hopes to pull you back. “Y/N she meant nothing. She’s not you. I love you” 

Lies.

You turned around and slaped him across the face, hard. You hand fucking hurt and it was throbbing after your skin connected with his.

You hand was currently causing you more pain than your chest and that was saying a lot. At least it distracted you from the pain of a broken heart.

George must have heard it because he came into the room and slowly closed the door behind him. He just wanted to make sure you were okay and definitely wanted to make sure Matty didn’t retaliate.

Matty twisted his head back around to look at you and you could see the water pooling in his eyes. It obviously hurt him because you’d never seen Matty tear up over anything. Not even at his gigs because he was so horrendously out of touch with his emotions.

But at least his eyes let you know that he was in some sort of pain. And at least you knew that was true.

“You’re a cunt Matty. We are fucking done! Stop throwing those useless words around because you do not love me!” You shouted at him whilst more tears spilled down your face.

You moved away from him and grabbed your coat from the side and picked up your bag. You couldn’t even look at him whilst you calmly said, “You ruined this. This is your fucking fault and I hate you for it”

You walked towards George who had already opened the door for you to leave. You turned back to Matty and saw his watery eyes and your red handprint on his face.

“Don’t you ever speak to me again” You told the boy you loved before you hastily left, George hot on your tail.

He’d obviously heard everything, and you didn’t even care. All you wanted to do was go home and cry.

It was 12:30am and you were adamant you were driving yourself back home. You didn’t care about the time. You’d already anticipated that you would be staying up late anyway.

You just assumed it would be catching up with your boyfriend and having a bit of fun with him. Not driving back home in the middle of the night.

You managed to persuade George to let you drive back because it would clear your head and that the traffic would have been quieter because no one would be on the road. He really didn’t want to let you, but he could see you pleading with your eyes.

You don’t know how but you managed to collect yourself enough to drive back home. You couldn’t even say proper goodbyes to the other boys because all you were itching to do was get yourself home because you were seeking the comfort it brought you.

For the long drive back, you managed to block everything from your mind and just focus on the driving that you had to do. You didn’t need to accidentally kill yourself on the motorway to prove a point.

You were going to prove your point by rising above him and getting on with your life. But you needed to get over it first and that was definitely easier said than done.

When you got home you cried yourself to sleep and you’d never been happier for an empty house. You ugly cried into your bedding and eventually calmed down enough to fall asleep.

When you woke up the next day you texted Denise asking if you could come around the following day. Of course, she said yes because you were like family and had been round a few times to babysit Louis for her whilst Matty had been away.

When you got there, she knew something was wrong straight away. You put it down to the face that you’d made no effort at all and your face was probably puffy.

She brought you in and sat you down as she could see the tears forming in your eyes.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” She asked you and you released a shaky breath.

“I just wanted to come around and tell you myself…” You started, swallowing down the lump in your throat.

Denise sat quietly waiting for you to continue but from watching you she already knew what you were about to say. Her heart broke seeing you like this.

“Me and Matty aren’t together anymore” You told her, and your heart sank seeing the sad smile appear on her face.

“Aw honey” She cooed sadly, before giving you a hug because she saw the tears begin to fall down your face.

You hugged tightly as you didn’t know when your last hug would be with her. And you did love her, she was your second Mum. She’d always been so lovely and warm with you that you it broke you a bit more that you wouldn’t see her as much.

You took a deep breath before pulling away from her to wipe your cheeks and you gave her a sad smile. Denise sat herself down on the bar stool next to you again and she watch you collect yourself until she knew you were ready to talk again.

“Can I ask what happened? I haven’t heard of Matty in days, so I don’t know anything” She asked you cautiously.

You pressed your lips together to think of how to tell her in the nicest way possible. You weren’t going to cover up what he’d done. You couldn’t. No matter how much you loved Denise, you wouldn’t lie to her about what he’d done to you.

You nodded slightly and started, “I went down to London to surprise him but when I got there me and Ross walked in on him cheating on me”

A tear rolled down your cheek when you said that, and you couldn’t stop looking at her reaction. Her eyes went wide and she looked away from you for a second as if she needed a second to process what you told her.

She sighed and looked back to you, “Please tell me you’re joking”

You tried to smile at her, but your eyes blurred up with tears again and you shook your head.

“I wish I was” You admit, blinking away the fuzziness and you felt the tears run down your face, along with the lump in your throat returning.

She shook her head, “Y/N, I’m so sorry”

“I promise you I didn’t raise him to behave in that way. I’m so sorry” She apologises, taking your face in her hands and wiping your tears away for you.

You smiled at her kindness. 

“It’s definitely not your fault. You’re one of the nicest people I know Denise. He’s lucky to have you” You said honestly.

“He’s going to wish he didn’t have me when I finish speaking to him on the phone later” Denise told you honestly with anger in her voice. 

You couldn’t help but let out a little laugh at it though and she chuckled to releasing your tear strained face to hold one of your hands.

“I’m being serious though. The next time I see him I might slap him” She said squeezing your hand tightly.

You returned the gesture and tell her honestly, “I won’t lie to you, I’ve already done that”

“Good. He fucking deserves it” She nods, and you were thankful she didn’t hate you.

You wiped the tears from your face with the sleeve of your hoodie and Denise kept talking to you which you were thankful for. She treated you like her own daughter which you were so grateful for.

You could tell she genuinely cared about your happiness. You vented all your feeling to her, and she listened and understood every single word you said.

“I really do love him, I just want you to know that. And I love you and Louis too. I just don’t think I could lose all three of you at once which is why I wanted to come and see you” You told as you started to tear up again.

“And we love you too, honey. And nothing’s changed on that front. You are and always will be welcomed here with open arms” She tells you and you feel the lump rising in your throat again.  

You just couldn’t believe how kind she was being with you. But at the same time, you could. She was one of the most amazing people you’d ever met.

“And me and Louis don’t want to lose you at all. I have no doubt he would love for you to look after him when I go out if you still want to do that. Of course, I understand if you don’t, but you know how much he loves it when you come around” She said.

This made you break down again and the tears started falling again. You’d forgot that a breakup wasn’t only between two people. It was like losing a whole other part of your life. A whole other family.

You considered Matty, Denise and Louis family. And it broke you that you wouldn’t be seeing them as much. It was a prime example of how one person’s actions could affect multiple other people down the line.

“I’d love that, thank you” You shakily said and Denise gave you a warm smile.

“God,” You sighed, wiping your tears, “I didn’t even think about having to tell Louis. I think that’s going to be the worse bit” 

“Darling you don’t have to do that. I’ll tell him for you” Denise squeezed your hand as you started tearing up again.

But you shook your head. “Thank you but the least I can do is tell him why I won’t be around a lot anymore. I won’t tell him everything though I promise”

“You’re too kind Y/N. You know that you are always welcome here, don’t you? Probably more welcome than my actual son” She told you which made the both of you giggle.

Denise made you a cup of tea and invited you to stay for tea which you reluctantly agreed to. But after you told Louis, that was the only thing that seemed to make him smile.

When you told Louis that you broke up with Matty, he slowly broke down. He started crying and you had to comfort him, and it broke your heart even more. Louis himself looked broken-hearted which made you want to cry but you stopped yourself.

You promised him you would still be around, and you arranged a day out with him in a fortnight that Denise approved of entirely. Both you and Denise did everything to cheer to cheer Louis back up and by the time he went to bed he seemed relatively like his normal self again.

After that you’d asked Denise if you could go and grab a few things out of Matty’s room. She of course said yes, and you went around the room that you’d grown to love the past year and a half and collected your belongings.

You had clothes in his wardrobe. Your make up on his desk. Discarded hoodies that Denise had definitely folded away when you were both out. You took just about everything that you knew was yours.

You only left the things that you weren’t too sure about. You mostly just shared everything so the picking and choose what might have been yours or not was really started to hurt your heart.

You had another mini breakdown in his room and silently cried into his pillow for a good few minutes. That was until you got a grip of yourself and went downstairs to say goodbye to Denise.

When you got back home you had another good cry and relished in your empty house. You wanted something to alleviate the pain, so you cracked open a bottle of vodka and started drinking the night away.

But when drunk and emotional no one made the best decisions and tonight you definitely didn’t. You called Matty up and waited as the dialling tone rang out.

“Of course, you didn’t answer your phone” You sighed into your phone when it told you to leave a message.

“You really are that much of a pussy” You say seriously but then drunkenly giggle.

You’re still laughing as you say “Aw god, I fucking hate you”

You go quiet for a second and let out a breath. “I really fucking hate you” You say calmly and then go quiet for a moment.

“You know… I had to sit down today and explain to Louis why I won’t see him anymore”

“He started crying and it broke me even more so well done… You didn’t just break my heart; you broke your little brothers too” You said started to tear up remembering Louis’ reaction. 

That probably hurt you more than the actual break up.

“You’re a fucking vile human being Matty. I just want you to know that... You need to sort yourself out because no one’s going to go anywhere near someone who can’t keep their dick in their pants because they’ve done some drugs.” You said sternly, but then your drunken self-changed your tone.

“And one day, I hope you do. I hope you find someone that makes you as happy as you made me” You admit before having a mini pause.

Because you did love him. You wanted him to be happy one day, even if it wasn’t with you.

“But for now, I fucking hate you” You continue calmly. “You made me tell your family how you broke my heart and I had to sit there and comfort your brother and lie about why…” 

Your voice broke at the end, causing you to swallow the lump you felt in your throat away.

“I had to sit there and pretend that I didn’t love you anymore which I wish was true” You spill your feelings into the phone, and you started to cry again.

“I fucking wish I hated you… But I don’t. I love you and that’s why I’m broke” You managed to get out and you sniffled again for a second before you got control of yourself.

“But you can get fucked” You said as if you’d said it to him in person.

“You’re not gunna ruin my life like you’re ruining your own” You said in the most serious voice after it. There was no hint of joking to it at all.

“So, fuck you. Fuck getting someone to love. Fuck the relationship that I thought I needed with you” You can feel yourself getting angry about it.

“You’re a twat and I hope you know it... No matter how big and famous you get, you’ll always be that arsehole druggie who can’t keep it in his pants” You said, and you could feel the anger rising in your chest.

You go silent for a good moment until you take a deep breath and release it. “Right well… I’ve had my rant. I think we can agree you’re a prick and I hope you have a shit time for a long time”

You said that but then the tears started to come back. You did still love him, no matter how much you said you hated him, and you did want him to be happy.

It hurt that you were calling him all these names. At one point you wouldn’t let anyone say anything bad about him at all. But after what he’s done, things obviously changed.

The tears fell and you sniffed up to stop your nose from running again. 

“Bye” You whispered, and you knew that this was the point that you’d but it to rest.

You were in no way over it. But you weren’t going to let yourself fall back down.

This was your lowest point and now, the only way to happiness, was to pick yourself back up.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

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Super Mario Christmas Plushies by Banpresto

Super Mario Christmas merchandise isn’t exactly uncommon, there’s actually a decent amount out there. However a lot of it is either not really Christmas themed, overpriced or bootlegs. Some understandably so like if the merchandise is very old but I’m not spending ten quid on wrapping paper. BUT there is something that I think is absolutely worth having if you are a collector of Mario merchandise and want something Christmassy.

From what I could gather about these three little cuties, they were by the company Banpresto. Banpresto has been responsible for several Mario themed merchandise but seemed to be a particularly popular choice for the 90s in Japan. Not only were these Japanese exclusives from the 90s, they were also arcade machine exclusives that were not sold in shops.

For a while these were extremely difficult to find due to the above factors despite them being stuff I really wanted, especially Luigi. Funny story, several years ago I saw Luigi on eBay for 100 quid in a mostly good condition. Unfortunately the person who was selling it couldn’t ship outside of their country. My parents actually contacted him and tried to persuade the seller but he couldn’t do it, though he seemed nice enough.

But now I am very thankful that I didn’t get that one, these plushies were about 25-35 quid each and in mostly good condition. They’re easier to find on eBay as well recently but the state they’re in can vary.

Before we get into the whole thing, there is something else I need to point out. This isn’t the full collection as I’m missing one more, Angel Princess Peach. These photos were from Google images. As of now I haven’t found her and the ones I have found were either way more expensive or were in a more used state yet at the same price. I have heard there are a couple of collectors saying that some Peach merchandise can be more valuable than other characters from the same set due to Peach having a dedicated fan base.

With all of that said, let’s get a closer look at the plushies I do have!

Starting off with Mario in a Santa Claus costume, way before Mario Odyssey! Though it makes sense for Mario to dress as another jolly, fat man with facial hair who wears red. He's got a Santa hat with his emblem on, a big white beard, a belt and even a sack. All of the essentials to dress as Santa. And just look at him, he's absolutely adorable! I love the little waving hand and the smile on his face.

He's also decently well made. Perfection isn't really expected for what are suppose to be cheap arcade plushies but this nice. Parts of it were made of felt like Mario's face, hair, facial hair and belt. Other parts are more velvet-like such as the hat and coat. The bag is more like a cotton-type material. The eyes are plastic and seem to be glued onto the plush. Fortunately most of this has been made by sewing or using really strong superglue... Well all except for the emblem on Mario's hat which is unfortunately iron on or some kind of sticker. I hate when this technique is used, it means these elements are more prone to cracking. But other than that, a really nice Mario plushie. Now onto Santa and Mario's most reliable animal companions, Rudolph being played by-

... Luigi? Yeah, this was an odd choice. You would have thought Yoshi would be dressed as a reindeer, in fact Yoshi does have a reindeer costume in Mario Kart Tour and plenty of promo art.

However this is still really cute! It's like Luigi's got a reindeer power up! After all this was after the frog, tanooki and hammer bro power ups were introduced so the Mario bros wearing animal costumes was nothing new.

I also really like Luigi's pose and face, it's like he's got a scared/surprised expression. Keep in mind this was way before Luigi's Mansion yet this along with many other examples were precursors to Luigi's lovable coward persona.

Yet despite Luigi's distinct expression, pose and overall design, it's still odd that they felt the need to put Luigi's emblem on his tummy. Did they think people wouldn't distinguish it as Luigi?... I guess this was before he was as popular as he is now. Also, yeah, the nose on his reindeer hat has been frayed. Not too surprising and it isn't too much of a downside. He's otherwise intact, including the iron on emblem on his tummy.

Fortunately Luigi does have something that Mario does not have which has been beautifully executed, the tag!

Typically the tags aren't anything special on plushies but not only are these ones connected to the plush with nice, golden strings, they have original art on them depicting the plushies by a log cabin. Such a wonderful attention detail that wasn't needed but very much appreciated. It's surprising that these tags haven't been posted online properly sooner.

Last but not least, we've got Yoshi! There is something distinct and unique about 90s Yoshi merchandise. He's always looking so chill with his eyes half closed, mainly due to the official Mario World promo art. Yet again, very adorable. I love the idea of him making himself warm and cosy in a giant Christmas stocking with the Santa hat emphasising the Christmas aspect of this plush. There's also a nice Christmas-themed print on the fabric used for the stocking, even if it's not necessarily Mario themed. Though between Angel Peach and the fact that the stocking has a church with a cross on top, this is probably the most religious Mario merchandise.

I love any type of merchandise that is unique. Something that seems like it would actually spice up my collection and actually add something different. This is definitely an example of that. For one the fact that the characters have a chibi design definitely makes them stand out compared to more recent Mario plushies that try to keep the characters more on model. In a way these remind me of the Mario and Luigi Nendoroids that came out many years later and I wish we got more stuff like that. But more importantly, the fact that Banpresto were allowed to experiment and create a set that isn't directly based on anything from the games. Santa Mario was never in a Mario game until Mario Odyssey and even Reindeer Luigi or Stocking Yoshi aren't based on anything. I love it! It makes them stand out more! It's a shame we don't get more stuff like this from Nintendo, but I really hope this does change. Game Freak lets Pokemon get recent Christmas and Halloween merchandise, why not stuff for Nintendo's series?

Anyways, if I don’t get the chance to say this later on, I hope everyone has happy holidays no matter what you celebrate!

[malecsecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @just-another-lightwood-bane!

Read on AO3

*****

The Perfect Christmas Gift

Christmas

Magnus laughed as he opened his door and Dot showered him in white confetti; the tiny pieces of paper settling on his shoulders and in his hair.

“I know you’re craving snow for Christmas Magnus, but I cant promise you any so I got some artificially for you!” She said, smiling as she reached out to brush away a few pieces.

“It’s lovely, Dot,” he replied, staring in awe around his apartment, which she had filled with decorations; at the centre a tall tree - branches heaving with baubles and lights.

“Well, it’s your first Christmas in California, and I don’t want you to feel like you have to miss out on everything.” Then she pressed a steaming cup of mulled wine into his hand, the richness of the spices and orange making his heart ache for his mother.

He sank into his soft sofa, pulling a Christmassy themed throw over his lap and patting the space beside him for his oldest friend.

They clinked mugs and toasted to one another and then Dot flipped on Netflix and loaded ‘Let It Snow!’

“Let’s watch a bad Christmas movie and drink away our worries,” she smiled, snuggling into his side, “Maybe it will inspire us to go out and do some cheesy things to find love this Christmas?!”

Beside her, Magnus managed a genuine smile as Joan Cusack began her voice over.

---------------------------------------------

Across town, Alec Lightwood was wrestling with a string of fairy lights in his sister’s flat.

“Why can’t you wind them up properly, Iz? Every year I have to spend my time unwinding them and checking every bulb and it’s so annoying!” he moaned.

“Oh come on Alec, you know you secretly love it! It means you get to spend extra time with me, your favourititist person in the whole world! Plus, you’re doing your one good deed for the year!” she laughed as she reached over and pinched his arm.

“Ow! Stop making words up, you know how much it annoys me. And what do you mean, my one good deed? You think I’m that horrible?”

Isabelle watched as he started to fiddle with the lights in his hand and her heart dropped. He was serious. And he thought she was too.

“Oh Alec!” She grabbed his upper arm and pulled him over to her enormous, bright orange couch, dragging him down on to it. “You are not horrible! You’re kind and generous and caring and you always look after me, even when I’m making terrible choices - like this ugly couch!”

“I like this ugly couch.” He grunted and then gave her one of his trademark wicked grins as she leaned over and punched his shoulder.

“Oi! That’s only cos Clary doesn’t like it…” she laughed

“It’s not! S’not anything to do with that.” He moaned.

“Sure it is! You’d do anything to be contrary towards her! Remember that time you said you hated M n M’s even though they’re your favourite just because Clary loves them? You’re just determined to be the complete opposite to her.”

Alec shoved his face into his sister’s shoulder and let out a deep groan, “Isabelle! I don’t do that...do I?”

“It’s not a bad thing, Alec. At least you’re engaging with our brother’s girlfriend. If you weren’t even acknowledging her that would be bad!” Isabelle ran a hand through his thick hair, “Time for a Christmas haircut I think, make yourself look good for the Christmas party and see if you can catch the eye of some hunk!”

“Izzy!” Alec moaned, sitting up, “I’m not looking for some hunk! I just want to get through this holiday season without making a fool of myself.”

“Which you will, I know last year was really harsh with Raj being a dick to you and all, but this year won’t be like that. He’s gone now and there’s no-one who will be mean to you like that again I’m sure.”

“Okay, I’ll get a haircut, but I’m still not looking for a hunk! And I don’t hate Clary, I just need to be sure she’s serious about Jace.” Alec said as he started wrestling with the lights again, Isabelle watching him with a frown.

-----------------------------------

“Magnus!” Clary yelled, waving her tiny hand as he crested the corner of the beauty hall. “I’m here!”

“Biscuit!” Magnus scooped the firey red-head into his arms and then held her at arm’s length as he took in her glowing cheeks, “Being in love certainly suits you!”

“I can’t even deny it, Magnus! It’s so true. Jace is amazing and I really love him. I’m so lucky I found him. But how are you? I know it can’t be easy with the holidays arriving.” They stepped towards a display of Christmassy nail polishes, and Magnus picked up a dark red, holding it against his skin to see how it looked.

“I’m okay, Clary. Dot decorated for me and my place looks like a winter wonderland, so I’ve got something to distract me a little. Plus you’re here and we’re shopping! Nothing better for the soul. Now, you said it was urgent? So what are we looking for?”

Clary pulled him away from the polishes and into the main section of the store, indicating the menswear area. “I need to get Jace’s brother something special for Christmas. I haven’t known him long and he’s pretty hard to read so I just have no clue what to buy him. I really need a man’s perspective.”

Magnus looked down at his friend, taking in the urgency with which she spoke, “You really love Jace don’t you? Spiky brother and all, you want all the Lightwoods in your life. I’m so happy for you, you found the one!”

Clary looked up at him, berry blush staining her cheeks, “Yes! I really want Alec to like me, because…” she paused, “I want to propose to Jace at Christmas!”

Magnus shrieked with delight, pulling Clary into his arms and rocking them back and forth in excitement, “Oh my god! You’re serious! This is amazing!”

They pulled back and Clary gazed up at him, eyes alight, “I just don’t want to be a cliche and wait for him. We’ve talked a little about our future and he knows he’s it for me, and he says I’m the one for him, but I don’t want to wait. We might not be too old, but I want him by my side for every new excitement and I want to be married to him. Is that very old fashioned of me?”

“Not at all, darling. I can see the pair of you married, sharing everything in your future as one. I get why you want this. Have you chosen a ring?”

“I made one!” She confided, then she released his arm and flicked through the photos on her phone to show him the design. His jaw dropped as he stared at it.

“Wow! Biscuit, it’s amazing!”

Clary dragged him further into the store, “This is why I need your help. I have to win Alec over, he and Jace are so close. But he doesn’t like me. He even said he hated M n M’s once because I said I liked them, when I know they’re his favourite! It’s so hard. Their sister, Izzy, is brilliant and we get on so well, but Alec’s like a cactus, he won’t let me close.”

Magnus scanned the store around them, taking in the different areas, wondering if there was anything in here to win over a spiky brother-in-law to be. “Maybe you should paint him something, Clary. Something to catch his attention and make him realise that you want to be friends and allies. What does he like?”

Clary gave him a sad smile, “I thought of that, but Magnus, he’s never honest with me. He sees me as some kind of brazen hussy who is here to steal his brother away and I can’t get close enough to him to find out what he actually enjoys or likes. So, that’s why I need you.”

“Okay, well, describe him and maybe I can find a nice sweater or some gloves or something…” Magnus trailed off as his attention was caught by a tall, dark haired man in the shirt section, holding up various prints and shaking his head. He was incredibly handsome, with tousled dark hair and a stubbled jaw line that Magnus wanted to stroke his fingers over.

“Well…” Clary began, voice full of mischief, “Actually, I don’t really want you to pick out a sweater or anything. I kind of want you to go meet him and work your magic and find out for me.” She pointed with a finger, indicating the man that Magnus had just been slavering over.

“Him, Biscuit? Really?” Clary nodded, “Are you sure that’s Jace’s brother, they look nothing alike!”

“Adopted brother,” Clary insisted, suddenly vanishing into a rail of clothes as Alec looked up and spotted Magnus.

The dark haired man stared over at him for a long beat, then his cheeks flushed and he looked back at the checked shirt he was holding in his hands. Magnus couldn’t make his eyes move away. The man was so deliciously attractive that he wanted to drink in the sight of him forever. Damn Clary and her nefarious plans!

From below, Clary coughed to get his attention and Magnus looked down. “Biscuit? When did you plan this?”

“Umm, Izzy helped me. She’s here somewhere, she’s supposed to be helping him choose, but she said she’d have an emergency and leave him alone. Then I thought you could swoop in and save the day, Izzy said he’s rubbish at choosing clothes.”

Magnus gave her a stern look. “This is very sneaky, even for you Clary.”

“I know. I know. But I can’t propose to Jace at Christmas with Alec standing there, if I haven’t even made him happy with the Christmas gift I gave him. I just want...want to get on with him and make sure Jace is happy too. Please help me!”

Magnus stared at her. She was serious, he could tell. And he could never refuse his Biscuit. “Okay, okay. I’ll do it. But you owe me big time!”

“The sun painting you love so much? That’s yours Magnus!” She reached out and hugged his legs. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Magnus gave her a wry grin and then turned back to his target - this was going to be interesting.

----------------------------

Alec felt the man’s presence before he spoke and whirled around just as he stepped into his personal space.

The shirt he was holding whipped the man’s arms and Alec dropped it as he became a flustered mess. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he stuttered out, gazing into warm brown eyes.

“That’s okay,” said a voice that sent a shiver of little thrills through Alec’s chest, “Here,” and then the shirt was being pressed back into Alec’s hands, fingertips grazing his, “Not sure it’s really your colour though?”

Alec stared at the man, unable to stop himself from looking. He was unbearably handsome, a chiselled face, prominent adam’s apple and artfully painted eyes. “Actually, I didn’t really know what was my colour if I’m honest. You don’t happen to work here do you? I really could do with some help.”

Magnus couldn’t help but be taken with Alec. He was a tall man with a large frame, yet he seemed to be trying to take up as little space as possible which screamed ‘insecure’ at Magnus. His words only strengthened that feeling, and Magnus immediately felt like he understood why Alec was so resistant to Clary. He was probably terrified about being replaced in his brother’s life.

“No, I’m sorry, I don’t…” Alec’s face dropped and he lowered the shirt in his arms, “But,” Magnus went on, “I am rather fashionable,” he indicated his own outfit with a little shimmy and enjoyed the way Alec’s eyes widened, “So I’d be happy to give you a hand, if you’d like?”

It took a little while for Alec to reply, eyes darting around as though he wanted to be somewhere else, “I couldn’t possibly ask you to do that,” he said, voice dulled with his disappointment.

“Sure you could,” Magnus insisted, holding out his hand to Alec, “My name’s Magnus and I’m really happy to be of assistance.”

Alec stared at his hand and then squared his shoulders and held out his own, “Alec Lightwood, really in need of assistance!”

They grinned at each other and Magnus felt like he could lose himself in the deep hazel of Alec’s eyes. “Right then, put that shirt down - that combination of pink and green checks should not be seen on anybody! Even I couldn’t pull that off, I guarantee it’ll be in the sale come Christmas Eve!”

Alec laughed a little as he dropped the hanger back on the rail. As he did, Magnus spotted Clary giving him a huge thumbs up from a little distance away, a dark haired girl beside her that must be Isabelle. He shared a grin with her for a second, before they both ducked back down behind the rails as Alec straightened up.

“Right,” Magnus said, steering Alec with a hand on his shoulder, “Let’s look at stripes, much more your scene I think!”

--------------------------

Almost twenty minutes later, Magnus and Alec had selected a few things for him to try on and were headed for the fitting room. They had bonded over their hatred for the garish paisley shirts, laughed at the tuxedo pants with the neon orange stripes down the side, and enjoyed a conversation with a shop assistant who was insisting they would both look amazing in the hideous checked shirt they had started with.

“Oh my goodness Magnus, we really should have gotten that shirt in both our sizes and tried it on, it would have been hilarious!” Alec said as they arrived at the fitting room. He was completely surprised at how well they were getting on, but he was out of breath from all the fun they’d been having and he felt euphoric!

“Well, Alexander,” (Magnus had taken to calling him his full name since he had guessed it between the hideous sick coloured green trousers and the bright purple shorts that only hit mid thigh) “What would you say if…”

Then he produced a pair of checked shirts from behind his back and held one out towards Alec, who started to laugh, huge belly laughs of joy!

“Brilliant Magnus! That’s awesome!” He said, grabbing the shirt and pulling it to his chest.

“I am brilliant, aren’t I?” Magnus replied, grinning.

Beside them, the fitting room staff exchanged grins and ushered them into cubicles to change.

When they stepped out in the matching shirts, both girls swooned at the sight of the happy couple. “You two look adorable together, those are perfect for Christmas Day!”

“Definitely, you’re the cutest couple ever!” The other girl chimed in.

Magnus and Alec stared at each other, each one with a slightly horrified expression at the hideousness of the shirts, but both of them with a secret wish that the girls were right and they were actually a couple.

“I don’t know darling,” Magnus said, winking at Alec. “I’m not sure that’s quite your color?”

Alec gave him a blinding grin, “ But sweetheart, it looks amazing on you! Perhaps it won’t matter so much how I look because everyone will be cooing over you?”

The shop girls swooned again as Magnus stepped over to Alec and smoothed his hands over his shoulders, “But we need to look amazing together at Christmas. I insist we get something we both suit otherwise it might spoil all the pictures…”

He trailed off, giving Alec a beseeching look.

“Pictures?” Alec said on cue. “What are you planning honey?”

“Oh nothing! Don’t worry your sexy little head about it, now go try on the stripes! Please?”

As Alec moved back into the changing room, Magnus turned to the shop girls and engaged them with a winning smile as he decided to play with them. “It’s a very special Christmas this year, if you know what I mean,” He said, waggling his eyebrows.

The girls melted into giggles as he turned to head back into the cubicle to finally get out of the hideous shirt.

When he emerged, the shop girls were cooing around Alec, who was looking pretty terrified by the attention, so Magnus strode over and flapped his hands to wave them away. Then he rested his hands on Alec’s broad shoulders and stared up into his eyes, “You okay?” he asked in a low voice, giving Alec a quick once over and appreciating the way the striped shirt stretched over his muscled chest.

“I am now… they kept asking me about us and our relationship and did I think you were the one… which seemed quite intimate to me…”

“Oh!” Magnus laughed, glint of excitement in his eye, “That might be my fault since I implied that I was planning to propose!”

Alec’s whole face lit up like a fire and he spluttered as he replied, “What do you mean propose?”

But he said it far too loudly, and it caught the girls attention and both their heads shot up like rabbits in headlights.

“Oh my god!” they chorused, “Did you just do it here in our changing room? Oh my goodness! Are you engaged?”

The two men stared at each other, one shocked, the other finding it all rather amusing. Magnus locked his eyes on Alec’s, question painted in them. After a beat, Alec grinned and slowly nodded.

“We are! I did! He said yes!” Magnus exclaimed, turning around to face the pair, dropping his hands from Alec’s shoulders and looping one around his waist instead. Beside him, Alec dropped an arm around Magnus too, letting his fingers rest casually on his hip.

Magnus shivered at the touch and snuggled a little closer to the warmth beside him.

“Oh my goodness! You two are the sweetest couple ever! We’re so lucky to have witnessed this! Shall I take a picture for you so you can remember it forever?”

Alec’s head dropped onto Magnus’ shoulder and he hid away. Magnus could feel him shaking a little, which either meant he was crying at the painful thought of marrying Magnus, or he was laughing at their predicament.

Mustering a grin, Magnus looked at the girls and said in his most enthusiastic voice, “That’d be lovely!”

As he was handing over his phone, a burly man strode into the changing area, face tightening into a smirk as he noticed the two girls who were clearly not working.

“Jessica, Anya! What are you doing just standing around - help these customers!”

“We were Sir. Actually, they just got engaged, right here in the store!”

The man’s eyes lit up! “Engaged, in my store? This is brilliant! Oh my goodness, congratulations!”

“Thank you,” Magnus said, turning to look up at Alec who had a small smirk on his lips as he twisted at that exact second so that their eyes locked on one another’s. As hazel stared at chocolate, Magnus felt little tremors from the arm hooked around him and a thrum of excitement ran through him.

Alec was looking at him like a man in love. Either he was a really good actor… or…

“You must let us offer you something special to commemorate this exciting day!” the burly man went on, eyes alight at the thought of all the publicity he could generate, “That shirt for a start sir, which I must say suits you perfectly!”

“See, I told you you looked good in stripes, Alexander,” Magnus whispered as Alec’s eyes widened where they were still gazing at each other. Suddenly, Alec’s cheeks flushed a brilliant pink and he dropped his head, breaking their eye contact. But at the same time, his grip tightened on Magnus’ waist and he pulled him a little closer.

“Champagne!” The man suddenly yelled, hand flapping between the pair of them. “But first, how about a picture of the proposal, it would be a wonderful story to share with the world - a true tale of Christmas joy!”

Magnus shook his head, “No, not yet - we haven’t even told our friends and family yet.”

But even as he spoke, there was a shriek from the doorway and Isabelle and Clary barrelled in, “Magnus! Alec! What’s happening, what haven’t you told us?” Izzy said loudly, looking back and forth between the pair of them.

“Nothing,” Alec hissed, hand dropping from Magnus’ hip. Immediately, it felt colder in the fitting room.

“They just got engaged!” the two girls said, giggling.

“Engaged?” Isabelle’s surprise was genuine as she stared between her brother and Magnus, “En…”

“Of course you did!” Clary cut her off, rushing to Magnus and leaning in to hug him. “Engaged?” she whispered.

“Tell you later Biscuit,” he replied.

As they pulled away, Izzy rushed over to her brother and pulled him into her arms. “What’s going on Alec?” she asked him. He didn’t reply immediately, and when they pulled back she could see that he looked quite embarrassed.

“I was about to offer them some of our finest champagne,” the store manager cut in, “Since they got engaged here!”

“That sounds delicious,” Isabelle said, smiling kindly at the man, then tugging on her brother’s hand, “Come on Alec, let’s go find that champagne!”

They all traipsed out of the dressing room, the manager, then Magnus and Clary, Izzy and Alec and the giggling shop assistants at the rear.

On their way, the manager paused at the jewellery counter and said, “I would be honoured if you would choose an engagement ring here. We have a wide selection.”

Alec coughed nervously and Magnus cut in, “Oh no, actually, I’ve already had one designed.”

Alec stared at him, eyes widening slightly at the blush on the other man’s cheeks. “Oh really?” He asked, eyes alight now with mischief.

“Of course, darling, I would never give you a random ring from just any shop… show him, Biscuit!”

Clary stared at her friend for a long time, then pulled her phone from her pocket and flicked to a picture which she showed the siblings. They both gasped in surprise.

“That’s incredible, Magnus!” Isabelle said, eyeing her new ‘brother-in-law-to-be’, “How organised of you!”

Alec just stared at the picture, unable to look away. It was intricate and incredible. Two colours of metal twisted together. “I can’t…” he began, then was unable to get any more words out.

Suddenly, Magnus was in his arms, holding him tight. The other man was shaking slightly, “It’s for Jace isn’t it?” he whispered into Magnus’ neck, “Clary’s going to propose to him, right?”

“It’s not my secret to tell…”

Alec lifted his head and stared hard at Magnus.

“But you guessed! So yes… it is.”

Alec took a deep breath, then pulled away from Magnus and stepped over to Clary.

They looked at each other for a long time. Then suddenly, Alec pulled her into his arms, lifting her from the floor. She automatically wrapped her arms around him too, shooting a quizzical glance over his shoulder at Magnus and Izzy.

“Thank you,” Alec said softly, “Thank you for loving my brother. He’s lucky to have you and he’s going to say yes!”

When they pulled back, tears were sliding down Clary’s cheeks and she reached out a hand and slipped it into Alec’s, squeezing it tightly.

Izzy clutched Magnus’ arm tightly, the hugest grin on her face. The sound of a champagne cork popping, brought the whole group back to their senses and they realised that a huge crowd of staff had gathered around them.

“For you!” The manager shouted, handing around glasses of bubbling liquid, “Congratulations on your engagement at Foster and Stewarts! May we wish you years of happy marriage! Hip Hip…”

“Hooray!” The whole crowd yelled, then began to chant, “Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss…”

Alec looked over at Magnus, whose eyes were alight with laughter. He raised his eyebrows, nose dancing with them…

Alec stepped forward. Magnus stepped forward. Magnus nodded at him and then Alec leant down and pressed their lips together in a perfect first kiss.

They pulled away in unison, eyes locked on each others, then Alec’s eyes dropped back to Magnus’ lips and Magnus surged up, arms circling Alec’s shoulders as he angled his head and met Alec again in another soft kiss.

Around them the crowd cheered and whooped with excitement as the two men deepened the kiss, lips carressing each others. Only Izzy, coughing discretely reminded them of where they were and then they pulled back, eyes shining with joy, Magnus’ arm looped around Alec.

The whole crowd raised their glasses and then they all drank, ‘To Magnus and Alec!’

Later, as they were leaving the store, bags of goodies on their arms, Alec turned to Magnus and shyly offered him his hand.

“Well, Alec,” Clary said, looking between the pair, “I asked Magnus to help me find you the perfect Christmas gift…” she paused, “And I guess he did?”

Alec smiled at her, “You found me the perfect Christmas gift together! Magnus will you be my Christmas present?”

Magnus laughed, eyes alight with mischief as he leaned up towards the taller man, “Only if you’ll unwrap me later?”

As Alec’s cheeks blushed a firey red, Izzy and Clary giggled together and skipped off down the road. Then Magnus hooked a hand around Alec’s neck and pulled him down for a brief kiss. “You are the best thing I could have wished for this year, Alexander, I hope you want to be my gift next year too.”

Their lips met in the perfect embrace as snow started to fall softly around them.

The End.

[thetravellingvagrant]

Day 16- Brno/Salzburg: In Which I Have A Bewildering Experience In A Lidl

My train to Salzburg was at a nice, relaxed 11:30am, thus I thought I would treat myself to the vagrant equivalent to a lie-in. I thought I would, but I didn't. This was due, entirely, to the Chinese girl, who not only had failed to turn her phone down during the night but had also thought it entirely acceptable behaviour to to get up at quarter to nine in the morning and carry out a phone conversation at full volume in a crowded room full of sleeping people, despite our dorm having a separate, unoccupied common room, just outside. Okay, whatever. It's fine. I'd just re-swap my earplugs for headphones and work on my blog. It's fine. It was fine.

I did just that for a while and  ended up leaving in surprising and uncharacteristically good time to catch my train. But like, super good time. Like I was was the station for an hour and a half before it arrived. Still, at least I wasn't in a room with those people any more, so I couldn't really complain.

I bibbled around on the platform, filling my time feeding pigeons and taking photos

sometimes taking photos OF pigeons.

and soon my train pulled in. I hopped on board and took a seat. This vagranting thing is easy.

This particular train would take me to Vienna, where I would need to change services in order to head to Salzburg, my final destination of the day. I had spotted on my ticket, not long after buying it that the window to make this connection was three minutes long. The train I was currently on had arrived five minutes late to Brno. I was not confident that I would make this connection. Fortunately, I happened to know that trains from Vienna to Salzburg run every hour, so, at absolute worst, I figured I would just have to kill some time in Wien; the worst place in europe.

When I arrived there, though, my vagrant sense went crazy. I stepped off the first train and had all but resigned myself to chilling for an hour when something beeped, loudly in my brain.

“That's your train on the platform across from you, that is.”

Tiny brain vagrant, that's really unlikely; the chances of just stumbling onto the right train, which just so happens to be directly across from the one I was just on, on the same platform a full minute after it was supposed to depart is really, really unlikely.

“...That's your train, that is” the voice repeated, but more passive aggressively

Jesus, okay, calm down, mate... I'll check. The voice in my head made a contented gurgle, which I'll be honest struck even me as quite odd.

I hopped over to the opposing platform and checked the destination of the tr- oh, it is the right train... I darted on board literally as the doors were closing and took a seat while tiny brain vagrant sung a little song about how right he was. No one likes a smart-ass, TBV.

I pulled into Salzburg some hours afterwards and marched manfully towards my accommodation, the amusingly named, and even more amusingly pronounced in an Austrian accent, Yoho hostel.

The Yoho hostel was one of these big, faceless, trendy places that tend to pop up a lot more frequently the further west into europe you go. The sort of places I really hate staying in, though unfortunately I had no choice in this instance, given that it was literally the only hostel with any free rooms in the entire city. I approached the front desk, it was manned by a chap that I would charitably call a preening tosser.  He bumbled through the typical hostel schpiel, stopping no less than twice to take phone calls in the middle of our brief conversation and handed me a check-in card to fill out. I was a little confused- isn't filling in these things like...one of your two jobs as a hostel receptionist? Okay, fine, whatever, I'll do it...

I filled the card in, including entering my own passport number, which I am one hundred percent certain is not something I am meant to do and handed it back to him. In return, he handed me the keycard to my room, while slicking his hair back. Cool.

I dumped my stuff on my bed (the lower bunk for once!) and headed straight back out to get some food, given that I had eaten one small sandwich throughout my day thus far. I decided to not faff around with getting anything fancy and to once again check out the Christmas markets, which, I had been told, were pretty effing delightful in Salzburg.

I strolled around finding many, many little mini markets dotted throughout the city, though each of them more concerned with selling small wooden trinkets in the shapes of angels and Gluhwine than they were with selling food. After a quick google, I discovered that the main-event of christmas markets took place in the cathedral square in old town and so, walked there immediately.

I think I must have still been in Czechia mode when I decided that eating at the market would be cost effective, because it just wasn't. Much more used to seeing prices along the lines of £2/3 for more food than my body could handle, it came as a shock to see prices increase to nearly £10 for rather paltry plates of knackerbrod or boxes of calamari (truly the most Christmassy of all foods.)

“I could have a full, sit-down meal for these prices...” I mused in horrified awe.

I decided to do just that and turned to leave. As I did, a magazine was thrust into my hands. I glanced down at it, it had some weird photoshopped picture of a plane dropping bombs or something on its cover along with some German, which I didn't understand, though seemed political in nature. I looked up at the person that had given me it. A rather dishevelled, middle eastern looking man.

“uhh?” I babbled.

He spoke to me in German and held out a little pot, which he presumably wanted me to put money in.

“No, sorry” I said, legitimately having no change, not wanting his awful magazine which I couldn't even read and fully resenting the obvious scam of putting the thing in my hands and refusing to take it back when I offered it to him, so I'd feel awkward and just pay him for it anyway.

He repeated the same thing, except more pleading. Rule of thumb for any tramps reading; if you want my money, be nice and don't try and scam me, because I'm sharp, I'm paranoid and I'm one hundred percent willing to throw your shitty magazine or plastic flower on the ground and walk away, if I feel like you're trying to trick me.

I tried to hand the magazine back to the man. He would not take it, obviously. He held his little cup up to me and repeated the German phrase one more time

“I do not want this.” I said to him, my eyes fixed on his.

He tried one more time and I told him no, again. All the warmth vanished from his face, he called me something which I'm sure I would find very offensive if I understood the language and snatched the magazine out of my hands. Because I'm a dick, I held on to it when he did, for just a split second. Just long enough to make it awkward. Any guilt I had felt for not giving this man money had immediately dissipated and I left the Christmas market in a bad mood.

I bought myself a burrito, which was...fairly bland, though not unpleasant and soon cheered up, though. Afterwards, I wasn't quite ready to return to my hostel and fancied getting myself something a little sweet. I made the decision then, to walk to Lidl.

Lidl was some distance away, though I was confident it would have them good Lidl doughnuts so I decided to go anyway. At the very least, walking through the city for forty five minutes would give me a nice overview of the place. Or at least it would have, if google had planned my route to go through the old town or along the river or something and not, as it did, through Salzburgian suburbia and along yet more not-quite-ringroads (resolution still in tact).

As it turned out, Lidl didn't actually even have that great a selection of doughnuts, making me wonder if it was worth the lengthy trek, there. Regardless I got myself a thing that translated into English as a “nut snail” and stood in line to pay. While in this line (which was for a long time, owing to the fact that there was only one man on the tills and most of his attention was taken up by an irate customer), there was an incredibly loud, almost deafening bang and immediately after it, three people in the queue behind me, without speaking, calmly abandoned their shopping and just walked out...I had no idea what was going on, but damned if I was walking all this way to leave without a nut snail, so I stuck it out, paid for my crap and left speedily, to face the thirty minute walk back to my hostel. I still have no idea what happened in that shop.

By the time I had arrived back, my feet had begin to blister quite badly. I'm not sure why they had decided to do this now; perhaps my sock was wet or bunched up or something, but it was really getting pretty bad. At the point of writing this I have still yet to put any significant pressure on my food and so can't tell how well it has healed overnight (at the time of posting this, I since have, and it was fine. Spoilers), though I worry I may be in for an uncomfortable day... (I wasn't.)

I limped back into my dorm and flumped onto my bed. Soon, I was joined by an Asian man, of which, there are just an incredible amount in this neck of the woods. He came in, said hello to me and asked if I had any water he could have. Not overjoyed at the prospect of sharing my precious water- this hostel not really having anything approaching a kitchen in which I could refill the bottle- but unable to tell him no as it was sitting in plain view, right next to me, I allowed him to decant some of it into his bottle. He thanked me and handed my bottle back.

“So, where you from?” he asked

“Oh, uh, Scotland.” I replied, not really expecting any more conversation.

“Ah, Scotlan...” he mused. “I heard about that.”

...He...heard about that? I wondered if he meant something specific that he had heard had happened, concerning Scotland, or that he had just heard about the country in general. Either answer seemed a bit weird.

“oh, right. Cool!” I offered as a stock reply.

“Ye, it like...England, right?”

“...it's next to England, sure”

“yeah, like...” he mimed a map of the British isles with his hands and pointed to the Scottish bit “England-lite, yes?”

...No the fuck you didn't. I scanned his face to see if he was teasing. It didn't appear so. Disappointing.

“Uh...” I laughed “Not...REALLY, no.”

He laughed too, though I sensed more because I was laughing and less because he thought he had made a joke.

“How about you?” I asked in return

“I'm from South Korea.”

“Ah, I've heard about that, too” I replied, perhaps slightly cheekily, though he didn't notice.

“Oh, you heard about it?”

“yeah....” I drifted off as I attempted to control the screaming desire that every fibre in my body felt to refer to it as North-Korea-Lite. Apparently I was doing this for longer than I thought and by the time I had swallowed these urges down and returned my mind to actual conversation mode, he had already clambered into his bunk and gone to sleep.

I fucked around for a few more hours, lackadaisically switching between procrastinating and Christmas shopping before finally, following suite and also turning in for the evening.

[devilishdewitt]

Ladies of Burlesque, December 2019

Anja Pavlova is back to host, perform and celebrate her birthday in the festive edition of the show of her dreams,  Ladies of Burlesque!

Did the show weave a winter spell or left us alone under the mistletoe?

Read on, darling!

Before we dive into the glitter,

Here’s the most important point of everything I do - 

~The Eternal Manifesto~

It is hereby declared that this little nook of the world wide web shall be devoted to the praise & critique of the art of burlesque, specifically in Russia.

Let it also be known that I am first and foremost a benevolent force, and every single criticism is documented solely for the purpose of evolution, growth and inspiration, darling.

Never forget - it is fantastic that the burlesque scene in Russia has grown so much in the last few years. Brava, ladies! As a fact and a statement, it is absolutely fabulous.

However, I volunteer to wear the heavy crown of expertise, having seen many a show in many a place, and having a keen eye for detail and a heart hungry for that wow factor. I always come with an open heart, am quite easily entertained, and know how hard the craft is - I can overlook many a fault when there’s stage presence, charisma and that fire of passion. Oh, and self-irony.

All is sickly without self-irony.

Now, onwards! To fabulousness!

Short summary: I do it because I love you all and want you to excel.

Also, allow me to share a wonderful review by Party Parrot!

 https://lazy-boogie.livejournal.com/3435.html

Thank you ever so for the wink and the nod - what a pleasant surprise! Thrilled that your inspiration lead to write such a brilliant summary of the night. Perhaps my tiny endeavours might create a movement of sharp-eyed, truly grateful audience members! After all, we can’t all be blocked, right? (read on, darling...)

The Venue

The place of action was Cеребряный Век (Silver Age) restaurant, a classic among burlesque events (it even hosted the Moscow Burlesque Festival). It is indeed pure glamour, opulence dripping off every detail! I mean, look at the pool room!

Just look at the pool room!

The second you entered, the atmosphere enveloped you with it’s gilded velvet glory. Of course, there were columns (this is Moscow after all, it’s near impossible to find a venue without columns), but thanks to the high stage and spacious room everyone had a pretty good view. I do wonder if the dressing room was as luxurious as the rest of the place!

If only my accolades extended to the food, but alas! We are spoiled rotten by Michel, and the tiny portions, uninspired recipes and stale presentation were not worthy of the non-negotiable deposit (which was almost as expensive as the tickets!). But we did not come to eat, oh no, darling - we came for a feast, but one for the eyes!

The Performances

Darling, it was a beautiful night. It was a dazzling, glittering, bejewelled, vajazzled (not really) night. My heart melted - and not just because Pavlova was back, but because it was legitimately a beautiful - beautiful show.

The Chorus Line Jazz Dancers were stunning! Their number was so gloriously joyous, for the first time they legitimately looked like they were having fun. Every beat was greeted with a tap, clap or other inspired move, and the joy was infectious! They looked stunning, danced wonderfully well and energised the whole room. 

Marie Weinberg appeared not once, not twice, but four times - and looked stunning every single time. Every single song sounded exactly the same, but that’s her strength - she sounds exactly like a 1930′s record. She is a perfect pin-up model, her photos are always flawless. She does not currently have an arsenal of stage choices (perhaps she doesn’t need it), but she did find her niche and she is gently charming in it. 

We got to see the famous blue showgirl ensemble of Jeva Noir! She presented a classic number - no gimmicks, no emotions, just good ol’ undressing. What strikes me every time I see her is how majestically beautiful she is - she has a unique type of beauty, like an actual Titaness, but doesn’t use it in her acts at all. We are always stunned by her looks, but never by the performance - perhaps because there is no harmony between them. A hawk does not excel when posing as a sparrow.

However, the general public got to see a new side of her talent - Jeva is a marvellous seamstress, and she brought her first collection for everyone to view and purchase! Every single lady left that room with a desire to own the velvety, feathery, dreamy ensembles made by Lady Noir. 

Tamasinushka looked utterly stunning - as usual. And her act was exactly how her acts are every single time - luxuriously languid, entrancingly self-focused, glittering and poised. Was it the most exciting or memorable act of the night? No, but it was gorgeous. When her magic works, she truly does change the flow of time in the room. Quite excited to see her emerge in 2020 with new energy and new renditions of beloved acts. 

Ellisha Fox graced the stage in his blue and white ensemble, and was an absolute treasure. He is an astonishing dancer, his charisma and stage presence are indeed unique. Looking forward to the moment when he finds even more freedom on stage and lets himself dissolve in the moment - it does sometimes feel like he’s participating in a dance competition, focusing hard on the moves and slightly loses the connection with the audience...but being a boylesque performer, all eyes will be on him regardless. I always sing the song of the benefits of self-irony!...But I am nitpicking, darling - because I can see him becoming an international superstar and want him to excel. 

Katerina Sahara brought her Desert Sun and Dragon acts (not quite the most Christmassy/wintery choices, but we didn’t really mind). It is impossible to look away when she’s on stage, but I must say that this particular combination of acts doesn’t really work - they are incredibly similar (if not equal) in tempo and atmosphere, so putting them together within one show doesn’t make either one shine particularly bright. Again, both are flawlessly gorgeous, it’s not a critique on the acts themselves - more on the directorial decisions of the show. Hope she does not overwork her wondrous self, for she seems to have fully joined the ranks of Bezhetskaya’s belles.

Radmila Rocky Zombie - well, it’s been a while since the vivacious mistress of Haunted Cathouse graced the Moscow stage! She brought her Americana fantasy cowgirl ensemble, and it was pure fun - she enjoyed it, the audience enjoyed it, everyone had a good time. Where the act lacked polish, it made up plenty with its ebullient bounciness. 

Sadly, our mullet marvel blocked me on Instagram - understandable, darling! What can be more horrible than constructive criticism and adoration? Quite flattered, never thought my humble self would get this much attention!

Konfetki looked fabulous - especially at the curtain call. Fantastic dress!

Helen! Helen the heavenly stage kitten! I swear to all the Glamour Gods, every single show that lady has a glow-up. Her Burlesque Santa outfit leaves me speechless - me, darling! Speechless! Flawless.

Blanche de Moscou brought her Sweet Kink act to the stage, and it was as beguiling as usual, but that’s not what I want to talk about. There’s a new act. The new act is phenomenal. It’s inspired by an act that her stunning mother directed in the 90′s, and it’s a whole spy-robot-Blade Runner extravaganza! Jaws dropped to the floor the second that luxurious umbrella appeared, and every new costume reveal was even more hypnotising. Her sense of rhythm is impeccable, and the way she marries complete immersion in the atmosphere of the act and her signature humour is spectacular. And the glitter gun! It was not a gun, it was a bazooka!

This was a true showstopper, and really would make more sense at the last act of the show (energetically and logistically - all that glitter!). I think this might be the most impressive act I’ve seen in this country.

Anja Pavlova, the one and only Swan Queen, oh how we’ve missed you. Lady Pavlova brought a myriad of costume changes and two acts, a classic Jazz Age one, and a premiere - Snow Maiden! Her forte truly is her emotional range. When is on that stage, she lives and breathes the music, and takes the audience on the ride with her. The way she catches every bit is ingenius, and she truly floats. Even this old heart had to wipe off a few secret tears...She is a pure delight. And she sang! And she knows exactly where her strength is, so she invited Marie to sing with her and went for acting and engaging with the audience. Her voice can not boast strength, but the sweetness, tenderness and sincerity made it soar.  If I were to make one comment, it would be about the hosting. Each act completely mesmerised and transported us into a magical land of pure glamour...and the hosting was more Earth-bound. Can’t claim that it’s a negative, but when I noticed it, it did create a slight imbalance. 

We want to dive deep into the magic, uninterrupted, darling!

Dearest reader, do yourself a favour and have a look at these superb photos. Dive into the atmosphere, honey! No words of mine will truly convey the joy of the evening.

The Verdict

The show truly was a showcase of ladies - and how different they can be.

 It was utterly delightful and stunningly beautiful.

Ladies of Burlesque remains the most elegant and polished burlesque show in Moscow - at least when Pavlova is around to keep an eye on things.

Bar Burlesque is taking place on January 10th, you can secure your sweet spot here.

[lesbian-sora]

Hogwarts Christmas Fic Part 4

Summary: Dan finally gets to spend his first Christmas with the Lesters. Previous part here!

Genre: Fluff

Words: 3.2K (It’s so much longer than the others wow.)

Warnings: Just some swearing for you to worry about!

Author’s note: So yeah, this was supposed to be published 173 days ago. Whoops. Well, people asked for the conclusion so I wrote a Christmas fic in June. It’s fine. Anyway, I’m still doing prompts every Friday so send them on over here!

Dan honestly wasn’t expecting too much on Christmas morning. He figured he would slowly wake up around nine or ten like he did on all the days he didn’t have a schedule to keep. Afterwards he would open the presents the House Elves had delivered (he was kind of hoping they would at least nibble the cookies he left for them as he was a little bummed out over missing the family tradition of Santa cookies this year) and then wander down stairs for breakfast, either meeting Phil in the Great Hall or hunting him down afterwards. Then there would be a bit of wandering about a Christmassy Hogwarts until it was time to go to Phil’s family home. They’d be there for a bit for Christmas tea and present swapping for the Lesters while Dan sweet talked Katherine Lester into liking him even more than she already did. After that they’d make it back to the castle for the famous Hogwarts Christmas Feast where he and Phil would sit with their students and pop some crackers and enjoy themselves. The evening would finish off with yet another wandering of the corridors, but this time they’d be a bit more tipsy and eager to find little nooks donned with mistletoe. All in all an absolutely wonderful Christmas, and a perfect one for his first Christmas as Phil’s boyfriend.

Phil, apparently, had other ideas.

“Dan! Dan, wake up! It’s Christmas!” Phil shouted, bouncing on Dan’s bed and shaking him. “Come on, then! You can’t just sleep the day away!”

Dan groaned and stuffed his head under his pillow. “Nooo,” he whined. “Why are you even awake? It’s so early you’re always a grump before noon.”

“Not on Christmas!”

Dan did eventually emerge from his pillowy fortress to glare at his boyfriend. Unfortunately, Phil was still in his PJs and a santa hat and was just in general too unfairly adorable for Dan to stay irritated at him. “Alright, alright, I’m up. Now give me my presents, please.”

Phil beamed and handed Dan six presents, keeping five for himself. Dan quickly sorted through his gifts going through the givers’ names in his head. Mum and Dad, Adrien, Louise, PJ, Bryony, and Felix and Marzia. Wait a second. “There’s not a present from you in here,” he said, then flushed slightly over how childish he sounded.

Phil just laughed, obviously not offended. “That’s because I didn’t give the House Elves my present to you. Your present is safely at my parents’ house along with all the other ones.”

“Oh,” Dan pouted. “Well, I did have yours delivered, so you’re not allowed to open it until I do.”

“Fair enough,” Phil said with a shrug, then without another word he dove straight into ripping open his packages, and Dan did the same.

From his parents he got a very heavy book about stars that combined Muggle and Wizard knowledge showing everything from the different constellations between the worlds and explaining how the science of Muggles could explain just how they impacted magic and how magic explained things science couldn’t. Adrien’s gift was a little silly but also wonderfully sentimental as it was a small photo book full of nothing but pictures of their dog whom Dan freely admitted to missing the most while away. Louise had gotten him a wonderful quill that refilled itself with ink, PJ had painted a beautiful picture of Dan flying through space, Bryony had gotten him a giant box of sweets with a note saying “Phil’s box is different so share, boys ;)” and Felix and Marzia had gotten him a nice set of attachments to go on his telescope.

“Good haul?” Phil asked, grinning and surrounded by the presents he had opened along with Dan’s which remained unopened.

“Yeah, you?”

Phil nodded, clearly quite happy. “Did PJ give you a painting, too? He left me a note that said the paintings would interact.”

“I didn’t get a note,” Dan pouted.

“Did you check the back?”

“No? Oh, there it is.” Doing as the note instructed, Dan and Phil sat their paintings up right next to each other and waited. Sure enough, as soon as painting Dan realized there was another painting he flew across and landed in painting Phil’s jungle. Upon meeting, the painting Dan and Phil threw their arms in the air and embraced, making strange almost squeaking sounds. “I wonder why they can’t talk right,” Dan pondered.

“I think it’s PJ’s art style,” Phil said. “It’s less realism and more impressionist so when the paintings talk we can just get an impression of what they’re trying to say.”

“Oh, well, they sound happy.”

“Yeah, I can imagine they are.” Phil sounded a little odd, so Dan glanced at him, but quickly looked away with a red face when he saw that Phil was just staring at him a dopey, lovestruck smile.

“Come on, let’s go get breakfast, I’m starving,” Dan said quickly, standing up to hide his blush.

Phil nodded and stood as well, taking time to grab Dan’s hand and tug him along. “Yeah, we’d best be going, we’ve got a bit of a tight schedule.”

“What are you talking about?”

Phil glanced at him, looking almost as confused as he was. “My parents’ house, remember? We’re supposed to be there around ten and it’s already a quarter of nine.”

“What?”

Phil looked even more confused and now a little hurt. “We said yesterday that we’d go to my parents’ before the feast. Do… Do you not want to go anymore?”

“Of course I still want to go,” Dan said quickly. “I’m just really surprised we’re going that early. I thought we were getting back just in time for the feast.”

“Oh, we are.”

Dan’s eyes kind of bulged. “We’re going to be at your house for six hours?”

“Uh, yeah?” Phil said nervously. “That’s what I usually do on Christmas?”

“Oh, my god, I thought it was only going to be for like two or three hours,” Dan fretted. “Phil, how am I supposed to make a good impression for six hours?”

“You don’t need to make a good impression,” Phil laughed. “You’ve met my family before and they all love you.”

“But I’m your boyfriend now,” Dan pointed out. “They’re going to judge me different.”

“Nah, they all know I’ve basically been in love with you since we first met, so they’ll all be thrilled,” Phil shrugged. Then he suddenly realized what he just said and his face flushed to match the same maroon Dan’s was. “I mean, um. Don’t worry, they like you.”

Dan smiled almost shyly, looking at Phil through his lashes. “I’m glad,” he said softly.

Phil smiled that same love struck smile he had given Dan earlier before suddenly clearing his throat and shaking his head. “Er, right. Breakfast then?”

Breakfast passed with little to no excitement. They sat up at the teachers’ table in their normal spots right next to one another as it appeared that all of the students were either still in their dorms or scarfing down their breakfast to get back to their dorms. There was one instance where John Browning from Slytherin was eating too quickly and started choking but the Charms professor, Lucy Grove, lazily waved her wand which caused the toast John was choking on to fly out of his mouth and bop him on the head before scolding him to slow down. There were the normal breakfast foods like sausages and porridge, but apparently the House Elves were warming up for the main show that evening because there were also gooey cinnamon rolls and smoked salmon and big fluffy pancakes. Dan was more than tempted to gorge himself on everything available, but Phil warned him that his mum would be making a Christmas lunch that deserved plenty of room. After breakfast they parted ways to get properly dressed with an agreement to meet back in Phil’s office as soon as they were done to take the fireplace to the Lester residence.

“You ready?” Phil asked when Dan finally made it to the office.

“Do I look ready?” Dan asked, then elaborated. “That was a serious question, by the way. Do I look alright?”

“You look great,” Phil chuckled, wrapping his arms around Dan’s waist. Dan made a small noise of disbelief so he pressed on. “No, really, you do. Just know that mum is going to put you in a sweater as soon as we get there.”

“I’d look great in anything she makes,” Dan scoffed.

“Honestly you would,” Phil agreed easily. He then tossed a pinch of Floo Powder into the flames, turning them a bright green, and offered Dan a hand which he gladly took. They stepped into the fireplace hand in hand and Phil said in a loud, clear voice, “Highwood Manor!”

As always when traveling by Floo, Dan screwed his eyes shut and allowed Phil to lead the way. When they did suddenly come to a stop, he reached out a hand to catch Phil who, again as always, was about to fall out of the fireplace. “We’ve really got to work on your landings,” Dan admonished gently as he righted Phil’s balance.

“Phil, you’re here! And you brought Dan!”

This was the only warning Dan got before he was being swept up in a tight hug along with Phil. “Hello, Mrs. Lester,” he wheezed, once again marveling at her incredibly strong grip.

“Oh, you always get so dusty when you use Phil’s fireplace,” she frowned. “Why don’t you two use yours, Dan? Yours is always so neat and tidy.”

“You just think that because whenever you come to visit at his house he always goes into a frenzy to super clean everything,” Phil smirked.

“Phil!” Dan squawked while Mrs. Lester just laughed. “You can’t just go around telling secrets like that!”

“Oh, nevermind him, dear,” Mrs. Lester smiled. “Come on, we’re going to open presents now that you two are here.” Phil absolutely beamed and dragged Dan along to the parlor.

As always when he visited the Lester family home, Dan was amazed at the sheer size of it. As with a lot of Pureblood families, the Lesters had managed to accumulate a good deal of wealth along with a big ass manor to match. Seeing as Dan had grown up in a tiny three bedroom townhouse outside of Wokingham with a lounge smaller than one of the guest bedrooms, he never could wrap his head around being a kid in a place this large or how the Lesters somehow made the high ceilings and marble floors somehow seem cozy. He silently thanked whatever gods that were out there for making Phil the younger son and not the one who’d inherit the estate so he’d never have to move in and try to fill the place himself. Then he scolded himself for thinking way too far down the line of his and Phil’s relationship.

“Dan, you’re here!” Martyn said cheerfully, clapping a hand down on his shoulder. “All Phil’s wanted to talk about for the last month was how you were going to be at Hogwarts for Christmas, but I didn’t think he’d ever get the guts to actually invite you.”

“Oh, shove it,” Phil scowled, shoving his brother in attempts to distract from the pink coloring his cheeks.

“Come sit with me, Dan!” Cornelia called, waving him over. Once he was sat down in the squishy love seat with her she smiled, showing all her teeth. “I swear Lesters are the absolute worst people in the world, it’s good to have someone on my side.” She cast a glance around and stage whispered, “It’s also good to have someone who actually knows how Muggles act to talk to for once.”

Dan snickered at the mildly offended looks Martyn and Phil gave them. Dan honestly didn’t know how she managed to spend any time at all with the Lesters; he was only Muggle Born, he couldn’t imagine what it was like trying to chase down a wizard like Martyn while being a Muggle. “Would you believe me if I told you Phil didn’t know about Santa before I told him?”

“Absolutely, yes!” she snorted. “You should have seen the look on Martyn’s face when I told him.” She pulled a comically horrified face and mockingly said, “‘I can’t believe you tell Muggle kids there’s a magic man watching through the year-’”

“‘That’s an absolutely terrifying thought and you blackmail them into behaving!’” Dan finished. “Phil said the exact same thing!”

She snickered a bit and grinned at him. “It’s going to be nice being able to spend Christmas with at least one half sane person.”

“Mrs. Lester isn’t that bad.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re her favorite.”

“Shut up! Am not!” Dan mumbled, hiding his flushing face in his hands.

He was dragged out of his misery by Mrs. Lester nudging him on the arm and offering him a cookie with a sly wink. “Alright, you two. Presents time.”

“I’d like to sit next to my girlfriend again, if you don’t mind,” Martyn said, raising his eyebrows.

“Too bad I’ve decided I want to sit next to Dan,” Cornelia declared, looping her arm through Dan’s. Martyn responded with a faux offended scoff before trying to squirm his way between them while Cornelia laughed.

Quickly deciding he didn’t want to get caught up in that mess, Dan escaped to sit on a comfy tartan chair a few feet away. Phil soon joined him, sitting on the floor and leaning on Dan’s legs, and Dan smiled down at him and started absently running his fingers through his black finge. “Are my presents for your family here?” he double checked in a whisper.

Phil fondly rolled his eyes. “Yes, they’re here. I brought them over two weeks ago when you gave them to me.”

Dan was about to respond when he was interrupted by a present nudging him in the forehead. He looked up to see Mr. and Mrs. Lester with their wands out directing the presents to float over to their owner and hover in the air around them. “First round!” Mr. Lester said. “Everyone grab your present from Martyn!”

Dan quickly shuffled through his gifts until he found one labeled “To: Dan From: The Real Best Lester And You Know It.” He gently tore off the paper to find an incredibly detailed star map that moved when he tapped it with his wand and said a date. He peered over Phil’s shoulder and smiled when he saw him investigating a self-functioning watering can so he wouldn’t forget.

“Okay, my turn to pick who goes,” Martyn said. “I think we all know mum needs to go next.”

Mrs. Lester laughed merrily as everyone tore into identical squishy, lumpy squares. Dan beamed down at the handsome black sweater covered in sparkling silver stars, and without instruction pulled it on over his head. “Told you you’d look great,” Phil said, looking up at him with a dopey smile, wearing his own purple sweater.

“Actually, I believe I told you I’d look great,” Dan smirked.

“Yeah, but I agreed with you.”

“Okay, is everyone ready?” Mrs. Lester beamed. “Because it’s Tom’s turn!”

Things went on like that for Mr. Lester and Cornelia, and Dan received a big bottle of firewhiskey from Mr. Lester and a Blu-Ray set of several classic Christmas movies from Cornelia with a note that said “For when you want to feel a bit more Muggle this Christmas ;)”.

“I think it’s Dan’s turn!” Cornelia said with a grin when everyone had finished their presents from her.

Dan did his best not to flush and hide his face when everyone started opening his gifts. There were several oohs and thanks going around the circle, but Dan’s attention was solely focused on Phil who was tearing off the paper with abandon. In his lap was a tiny plant that snapped at his finger whenever it got too close Phil blinked down at it in awe for a moment then cooed at it before looking up at Dan like he hung the moon. “Thanks, Dan.”

Dan really did blush then and looked away, trying to casually cover his pink nose with his hand. “Shut up. It was nothing. Let’s quickly move on and open Phil’s gifts now.”

“You’re last this year, Phil,” Mrs. Lester smiled. “That means he gets to pick who starts us off next year,” she explained for Dan’s benefit.

Dan nodded, and tore into the present Phil had gotten him. Inside was a scarf, but not just any scarf. Dan looked at it in wonder as he ran his fingers over the silky smooth surface and watched as it seemed to flow around his fingers like water, while the stars that decorated it seemed to twinkle at him as they passed by. Almost hesitantly, he wrapped it around his neck and his eyes widened. As his neck was very sensitive he was very picky about his scarves, but this one was perfectly warm and hung around him like it was made to be worn by him.

“Do you like it?” Dan looked down at Phil who was biting his lip and staring up at him like he had anything in the world to be nervous about.

Dan just stared at him for a moment before his cheeks split into a smile wider than Dan had previously thought possible. “It’s brilliant,” he breathed, bending over to give Phil an upside down kiss.

“Holy shit!”

Dan snapped his head up to see Martyn gawking at them like a child seeing a dragon for the first time. “When the fuck did this happen, then?” he demanded, gesturing and Dan and Phil.

“Martyn, don’t use that kind of language at family Christmas,” Mr. Lester scolded.

“Sorry, dad. Okay, when the frick did this happen?”

“Umm, about two days ago?” Phil chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck.

“Well, it certainly is a Christmas miracle.”

“Mum!”

Dan just stayed silent with his hands over his face and tried to melt into the chair while the Lesters all shouted at one another about the very sudden change in Dan and Phil’s relationship. “Okay, look, it doesn’t matter!” Phil decided. “Dan and I are dating now, but we’re still working on things.”

“Oh, we’re just so happy for you is all, dear,” Mrs. Lester gushed.

“Yeah, I know, mum,” Phil smiled. “I think Dan and I are gonna go take a walk now, though. We’ll see you guys in a bit.”

He gently untangled Dan from the ball he had curled up in and gently escorted him outside after they bundled up in the coats he’d had the foresight to bring. They were silent for a while as they walked the snowy grounds side by side until Phil looked up at Dan from beneath his lashes. “So, that was your first Christmas with the Lesters.”

“Yeah,” Dan agreed blankly, staring straight ahead.

Phil bit his lower lip. “Did you- erm. Uh, how’d you like it.”

Dan stopped in his tracks and turned to Phil with a wide grin. “It was perfect.” Then he grabbed Phil by the ears and pulled him in for a kiss they were both too busy smiling to enjoy.

So there it is. The long awaited conclusion to the Hogwarts Christmas fic. Was it worth six months of waiting? Ehhhh, that’s for you to decide. 

First Part!

Previous Part!

Prompt me!

[lizzielambwriter]

It is my pleasure to welcome Sharon Booth to my blog. Sharon and I ‘found’ each other via Facebook and the Romantic Novelists’ Association. Sharon is a hardworking and inspired novelist and a generous supporter of other writers.

      We met ‘in the flesh’ for the first time last year at the RNA Afternoon Tea in York. Sharon is every bit as warm and friendly as I’d imagined. Take it away, Sharon . . .

I write contemporary romance, with a generous sprinkling of humour thrown in for good measure. For many years, I tried to write big, dramatic, historical sagas, as I’d grown up reading Catherine Cookson novels, and thought that was the sort of thing I should be writing. It took me quite some time to realise that, as wonderful as those books are, they’re not the sort of books I need to write. I started to create contemporary stories, filled with heroines I would happily hang out with, and heroes I fell in love with. Now, I have nine books published! Two of those books started life as People’s Friend pocket novels, which was a dream come true, as it meant my work was actually on the shelves in supermarkets and WH Smith.

I have also sold the large-print rights for the pocket novels, to Ulverscroft, and the first one was published last April, as part of its Linford Romance Library, with the second one coming out in March. This means I also have books in libraries.

I live in East Yorkshire with my husband and German Shepherd dog. I have five grown-up children and seven grandchildren.  I’m one tenth of the blogging group, The Write Romantics. I’m shamefully prone to developing huge crushes on fictional heroes, and I never lose hope that, one day, I will hear the sound of those Tardis engines …

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A Q and A session with Sharon. I’m sure you’ll find her answers and inspirational.

advice for fledgling authors

If you really want to write, do it. Don’t wait until you “have the time” or until inspiration strikes. Pick up a pen, or sit at that computer, and start. I’ve been told, many times, by various people, that they would love to write a book “if they had the time”. The fact is, you have to make the time. I have a family and a day job. If you want to write, you will push everything else aside and do it.

Seek out other writers. It’s a very lonely business if you don’t make contact, and the writing community is so supportive. Join a writing group, or make online connections. Maybe join the Romantic Novelists’ Association if your genre is romance.

Read the genre you write in. Read how-to-write books. If you can afford it, take writing courses.

Be prepared for rejection and develop a skin like a rhinoceros hide – or, at least, pretend to.

Don’t expect to get rich. Keep writing. Don’t give up. If you want this, you must make it happen.

Be kind to other writers. It’s a tough world out there, so share their news, encourage, support and congratulate. Learn to promote your own stuff, but don’t be afraid to promote other people’s. There’s room for everyone.

Most of all, don’t forget to enjoy it. Writing is a job, and it’s undoubtedly hard work. You started writing because you love it, never lose sight of that.

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Who or what has inspired you the most to become a writer?

Enid Blyton, whose stories sparked my love for books and reading, which, in turn, made me want to write my own stories.

My English teacher, from the age of thirteen until I left school. My English teacher was so encouraging and supportive, really making me believe that this was something I could do. For the first time in my life, I began to think that writing was a gift, and that I should nurture it and be proud of it.

A BBC programme, Reader, I Married Him, back in 2008, or thereabouts, ignited that flame of hope again, after years spent raising children, and writing nothing more exciting than shopping lists.

Jane Wenham-Jones’s book, Wannabe a Writer? convinced me that, yes, I really, really did, and led me to study creative writing, read numerous how-to books, and eventually join the Romantic Novelists’ Association New Writers’ Scheme.

Milly Johnson and Sue Townsend. Reading books by these two wonderful writers, about people I knew and understood, I finally realised that I could write about people like me, and that books could be funny, too.

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If not a writer – then what?

I do have a day job, working for the NHS. If I’m honest, though, that’s not a path I chose, exactly.  I’d already given up on the idea of university, as I’d been assured that it wasn’t for “people like us”. I wanted to be a primary school teacher at one point, in my early thirties, and took a further education course aimed at women keen to return to work after having children. A careers guide visited us, and suggested I should aim lower, and try to be a teaching assistant instead. My already fragile confidence was shattered. I spent a few more years floundering, before finally gathering my courage and signing up for a degree in literature with the Open University,  graduating with honours in my mid-forties. I want people to know that it’s never too late to realise your dreams,  don’t listen to the doubters.

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Tell us a little bit about where you set your novels

I set my novels in Yorkshire – which is such a huge and diverse county. My Kearton Bay novels are set on the North Yorkshire coast, in a little village that bears a remarkable resemblance to Robin Hood’s Bay. Bit by bit, I’ve built up a whole world around that village, spreading out into the Yorkshire Moors and creating a network of villages and towns that also feature in my Moorland Heroes and Bramblewick series. The Skimmerdale series, on the other hand, is set over in the stunningly beautiful Yorkshire Dales. I have another series in my mind, which will take place in the Yorkshire Wolds, which is an area on my doorstep – the Wolds Way actually starts in my home town of Hessle, right by the Humber Bridge. It’s an underrated area, often overlooked as people rave about the Moors and Dales. I absolutely love Yorkshire, and like nothing more than heading out for the day to take in the stunning views or ancient buildings. We’ve got plenty of castles and abbeys to choose from, that’s for sure.

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My current book is Saving Mr Scrooge, the second in my Moorland Heroes series – the first being https://read.amazon.co.uk/kp/card?asin=B071P54ZFX&preview=inline&linkCode=kpe&ref_=cm_sw_r_kb_dp_40ZuAbW97SJ7J“>Resisting Mr Rochester.

It’s the time of peace on earth and goodwill to all men, but at Carroll’s Confectionary, the meaning of Christmas seems to have been forgotten. New boss, Kit Carroll, is hardly winning friends with his high-handed attitude, his foolhardy approach to production, and his tight-fisted treatment of the factory’s employees. Marley Jacobs, his self-styled PA, is determined to make him see the error of his ways, and return the festive spirit to Carroll’s Confectionary.

Unfortunately, the little matter of their previous relationship, along with Kit’s callous treatment of her when they were teenage sweethearts, keeps getting in the way of her good intentions. With encouragement from co-worker Don, romantic sister Olivia, and — astonishingly — the usually sceptical Great Uncle Charles, Marley decides to save this modern-day Mr Scrooge from himself, despite having no well-meaning ghosts to help her.

But revisiting the past doesn’t just stir things up for Kit. As Marley struggles to deal with bittersweet memories, present-day events take a surprising turn. Can the future be changed, after all? And is it only Kit who needs saving?

“Sharon Booth’s writing just gets better and better…” Review of Saving Mr Scrooge: Being Anne Book Blog.

“Everything you want in a Christmassy book”. Review of Christmas at the Country Practice: Writer up the Hill.

“A terrific book from a terrific author”. Review of Resisting Mr Rochester: Antrim Cycle

“There Must Be an Angel is one of those delightful stories that grabs you by the hand on page one”. Review of There Must Be an Angel: Jaffa Reads Too.

“A hugely entertaining jaunt of a novel through the Yorkshire dales”. Review of This Other Eden: Random Badger.

      Photo by Joanna Kosinska on Unsplash

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I’m currently working on the second in my Skimmerdale series, the sequel to This Other Eden. I’m very much enjoying revisiting my gorgeous Yorkshire Dales sheep farmer, Eliot! I’m also working on the third Bramblewick novel, which continues the story of the village surgery, and the medical and reception staff who work there.

You can find out more about Sharon and her book here – www.sharonboothwriter.com

**featured image – Whitby, Yorks – https://unsplash.com/@grafiklee

Guest Post – Welcome Sharon Booth – It is my pleasure to welcome Sharon Booth to my blog. Sharon and I 'found' each other via Facebook and the…