#it’s so hard to keep a straight face in a silly Santa hat

[cod-thoughts]

What about silly pricenik?

This is great i love sharing dumb headcanons ive got hehe. Heres some i have in my notes! These are most of them! Rest is under the cut there was...a lot 0_0

Nikolai

Despite being a fantastic pilot, Nik has a horrible sense of direction on the ground. He once got lost in a massive tesco's and refused to ask for help, claiming he was “scouting the exits.”

Nik insists on making every departure as dramatic as possible. Helicopter pickups? Cue the music. Leaving a room? He slams the door just right so it echoes.

Nik’s sense of humour is as dry as the desert, and he can deliver the most absurd statements with a completely straight face. Soap once believed for an entire day that Nik had a pet bear named Boris. Nik gifts Soap a stuffed bear with a note that says his name is Boris for secret santa two years later too.

Nik collects tiny, odd souvenirs from missions—a bottle cap, a rusty coin, a piece of scrap metal. His pockets are always jingling, and Price swears he’s part magpie.

Nik is surprisingly good at poker and never misses a chance to challenge the team. His poker face is so good that even Ghost has a hard time reading him.

He won’t admit it, but Nik has a soft spot for cheesy romantic comedies. He does drag Price to watch the opera, theatre or musicals and Price loves it because Nik is so happy there however, Price refuses to watch a single rom-com "Sorry, Nik, love can only do so much."

Nik can MacGyver his way out of almost anything. Once built a makeshift flare gun out of a broken torch and a rubber band. It worked—just barely.

Nik’s rucksack is always bursting with random things—extra batteries, half a loaf of bread, a flask, and tools for a job no one asked for. Somehow, it all ends up being useful.

He has an entire list of mission rituals he swears by, like tapping the side of the helicopter before takeoff or wearing the same lucky socks on dangerous ops.

His voice booms like he’s addressing a crowd. Gaz calls him “The Walking Megaphone.”

Nik has a habit of keeping little mementos—like the first time Price scrawled mission coordinates on a scrap of paper for him, which Nik still keeps in his jacket pocket.

He once made a playlist for Price that was entirely love songs in Russian, claiming, “It’s all about the vibe.” (yeah, sure nik. Price looked up some of the lyrics and blushed furiously before finding nik and making some of the lyrics come to life...)

Even in the worst situations, Nik finds a way to keep spirits up. He once cracked a joke mid-firefight that had even Ghost smirking.

Wherever they go, Nik seems to have a knack for charming the locals. Whether it’s his booming laugh or his easy smile, he somehow ends up with an invitation to dinner by the end of every mission.

NikPrice

Nik insists on picking Price up for missions in the most inconvenient places possible (when he can)—like rooftops, narrow alleyways, or middle-of-nowhere fields. Price grumbles about it every time, but Nik calls it “adventure pickup.” The boys love it just because it annoys Price.

They’ve worked together so long they don’t need words to communicate during a mission. Nik swears it’s because they’re “two halves of one operational brain,” to which Price always mutters, “God help us all.”

Nik once stole Price’s hat during a mission and refused to return it until Price called him “the best pilot in the world.” Price begrudgingly complied, but Nik still teases him about it.

Nik has a habit of doing absurdly dramatic favours for Price, like flying halfway across the world to deliver a forgotten map. When asked why, he always shrugs and says, “For you, John? Anything.” (Price eventually realises its not cause Nik can, its cause Nik wants to and he finally puts them both out of their misery and asks him out. Price thinks this will stop Nik, it in fact does not)

Their comms during missions are half professional, half flirting banter. Soap and Gaz are constantly muting their headsets to avoid laughing during stealth ops. Ghost is just used to it at this point.

Despite the chaos of missions, Nik has a way of carving out small, quiet moments with Price—whether it’s a cup of tea at dawn or sitting shoulder-to-shoulder in silence on a rooftop, sharing a flask.

Nik isn’t overly demonstrative in professional settings, but his gestures still speak volumes—brushing a speck of dust off Price’s shoulder without a pause from Price, straightening his collar too, or resting a hand on his lower back as they move through crowded spaces. When it's just them or them and the team though? Nik is all over Price, extremely touchy, does not care if Price is bright red or the team make fun of them for acting like teenagers. He is touching his Captain.

Nik knows every scar on Price’s body and has a story for each one. Price doesn’t like talking about his injuries, but with Nik, he doesn’t mind. Nik tells him his own tales in return, trading battle marks like old soldiers comparing medals.

Nik insists Price’s coat is impractical for cold weather and always drapes his heavier jacket over Price’s shoulders without asking. Price protests half-heartedly, but he never takes it off, it smells like Nik and leather, what's he supposed to do? Not tuck his nose into the collar and smell the familiar scent of his partner?

Their eyes do most of the talking. On missions, one look is all it takes to communicate everything—from reassurance to affection to, occasionally, “I’m going to kill you for that stunt later.”

[demonwifey]

Mommy’s Kissing Who?🎄🎅🏻

Hey guys! Hope you all had a safe and amazing holiday! So this idea literally came to me right after listening to “I Saw Mommy Kissing Beetlejuice” and knew I had to post it for you guys to see. While you’re reading this just keep in mind I didn’t make the reader’s daughter Skye even though she was the one signing it. I’m bad at names so you’ll see the daughter go by she and her for the entire thing. Think about if you had a daughter and what you would name her. Hope you guys enjoy!💚💜🖤  

Beetlejuice x black+fem!reader

Warnings: cursing, hints of sexual themes

Word count: 3,688

“I can’t believe I’m gonna ask this but, Beej, just please try to be on your best behavior.” You practically begged, clasping your hands together near your chest for added effect. 

The demon man let out a hearty laugh before snapping his suspenders against his chest. His costume was like a mix between his normal suit and an actual Santa costume: red and white striped, his regular boots, and a Santa hat to top it off. You thought his overgrown green beard would’ve been a giveaway to your child at least. 

“Come on, babes. Give me a little credit! I’m gonna be the best damn Santa these twerps have ever seen.” He reassured you. His confidence should’ve made you feel at ease but it didn’t. No that it mattered, it was too late to turn back now. You both looked up as the Scout Leader announced his arrival from outside the small room you two were in, basically queuing him to come out. 

“It’s Showtime, babes.” He said to you and gave a flirtatious wink before walking out to the young girls yelling in excitement. 

You watched as they all scurried to huddle around him. You watched your daughter closely, thankfully she didn’t recognize Beej and the other girls didn’t notice anything off. Maybe he was right, you should’ve given him more credit. You straightened your dress and fixed your hair out before making your way over the other parents as they all watched with joy. 

“HO HO HO! Merry Christmas, you little shits!” You heard him yell loudly across the room. 

You stopped in your tracks and your eyes widened almost comically at the sentence you just heard. You prayed to any other worldly being out there that it was only your imagination. When you looked up at the other parents, you could see it wasn’t. Their faces matched yours and they quickly turned their eyes towards you. Yeah, this was going to be one long night. 

****

You didn’t know how you could’ve ended up in a worse position. You were in charge of one thing for the Girl Scout’s Christmas party: get someone to play Santa Claus and have him hand out the girls merit badges. All the other parent’s handled things like food, decorations, etc. It’s not like it was a hard task for you to do. Hell, you found and booked a guy at the beginning of the month. Everything was fine on your end, until two days ago. Your Santa Claus called saying he was sick with the flu. You’d already had a few mishaps with Girl Scout events in the past, so this was your chance to show the other parents that you weren’t a total screw up. Yet here you were on your laptop, scrambling through different websites to try and find a new person to play Santa. 

“Hey Mommy, which shoes should I wear for the party tomorrow?” You heard your daughter’s perky voice ask from behind you. As a reflex, you quickly slammed your laptop screen down and looked at her with wide eyes. She stood behind the couch with each hand holding one shoe from a different pair. 

“Hmm, I think I like the black ones better. They’ll match your badge belt.” You faked a casual tone. 

She looked at the shoe you chose, like she was thinking for a moment, before nodding in excited agreement and running back to her room. You strained a smile as you watched her go before letting out a frustrated sigh and once you heard her door close. You were doing this, not just for the other girls, but for her as well. Your daughter always got so excited when someone mentioned Santa. How shitty would you feel if you had to watch her face turn to disappointment when they were all told Santa wasn’t coming? The mental image alone made your heart sink to the floor. You leaned forward to drop your head into your hands and let out another sigh; this one being much louder. 

“Hey, keep making noises like that and I’m gonna get turned on, babes.” You heard a familiar voice coming from the side of you. 

You didn’t even need to move your head to know it was Beetlejuice. You loved the demon to death but right now, you were in no mood to joke around. You could tell he sensed that when you didn’t respond. You didn’t see, but he awkwardly scratched the back of his head before sitting next to you. He placed an equally awkward hand on your back and started rubbing circles on it. 

“Uh, you’re not gonna start crying are you? I’ve always been bad with that sort of thing. I mean, I had to watch The Notebook with Adam and Barbara one time and I had no idea what to do. They just started sobbing and saying “If you’re a bird, I’m a bird” to each other and it was the stupidest thing I’d seen-” And you stopped him before he could finish. 

“No, Beej, I’m not gonna start crying. But, God, do I want to.” You said while sitting up, his hand still rubbing circles on your back. “It’s like I had one job and it went straight to shit in one day. I’ve looked everywhere for someone to play Santa last minute but they’re all booked! And I don’t have any family members or friends that are free either. Ugh, as if they’d actually do it.” 

The room fell silent for a moment. There was no point in even opening up your laptop again. Not to say you gave up...but you basically gave up. 

“What about the kid’s sperm donor? Maybe the Christmas spirit has him feeling less like a piece of shit.” Beetlejuice spoke; half joking, half serious. You scoffed but then let out an actual laugh. He moved his hand to around your shoulder before and you laid his chest. Your fingers started absentmindedly playing with his tie.  

“If you’re referring to her father, he hasn’t been around since she was one. I doubt anything would make him less of a piece of shit.” You responded. You hated the guy for running out on you and your daughter but you’d never have him around Beetlejuice. You already knew Beej would have murder in his eyes as soon as he’d walk through the door. You moved your neck upward to give him a quick kiss on the cheek, showing that you appreciated his attempt to make you feel better.

“Well, at least this'll be an excuse to ruin Santa for her. Just walk in and say “SANTA ISN’T COMING BECAUSE SANTA ISN’T REAL!”. Rip the band aid off. It’ll be great.” He joked, looking down at you with a sinister grin on his face. There was no doubt in your mind that he wasn’t joking. 

You let out a defeated giggle before flipping his tie up to hit him in the face. You were about to give him another kiss before you heard your daughter’s voice again. 

“Beetlejuice!” She screamed before running around the couch to jump between you two. You both laughed at her sudden presence before Beetlejuice placed a hand on her head. 

“What’s up, anklebiter? Have too many sugar packets before bed?” He joked and her own laughter wasn’t far behind. She quickly climbed on top of his lap and pulled out two of her favorite scrunchies from her pocket. 

“No, silly! I need your opinion. Which scrunchie would look better for my hair tomorrow?” She asked, much like asked you about the shoes before. 

Beetlejuice was always so good around your daughter. Most guys you knew ran for the hills when they found out you had a kid, but somehow, this rude and crude demon didn’t. Maybe it was all the time he’d spent with Lydia but he fell into the ‘cool dad/uncle’ role very quickly. Not that you were begging to have that figure in her life, it was still nice to watch them interact so naturally. You laughed as Beetlejuice plucked the different color scrunchies out of her hand and examined them closely. 

“Nope, neither one will do.” He twisted his face at them before tossing them both to the side. Your daughter only blinked in confusion as she watched Beetlejuice reach into one of his jacket pockets. 

“This one is way more suitable!” Suddenly he pulled out a black and white striped scrunchie with a glitter covered green and black tulle bow at the center. You’d been with Beetlejuice for a while so thankfully the both of you were used to his magic. Your daughter squealed in excitement and grabbed the scrunchie out of his hand.  

“Beej, you can’t keep giving her presents before Christmas.” You laughed, still watching her as she gawked at her new accessory. The demon man ignored you, knowing he was only winning her heart more and more each day. “Alright, now what do we say?” You asked, giving her a knowing look.

“Thank you, so much BJ! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” The child didn’t hold back her enthusiasm as she jumped to give him a tight hug. Beetlejuice let out his usual scratchy laugh while giving her a few pats on the back. 

You watched their interaction before squinting, an idea popping into your head. 

“There’s no way...” You thought to yourself, but the image stuck in your head. Once you saw it, you couldn’t unsee it. From his perfect chubby body to his earthy laugh, you could tell he was the perfect fit for your idea.

“Alright, mini me, time for bed.” You shook yourself away from your thoughts and placed a hand on her head. She turned to face you with a large pout on her face. You stopped her before she could even protest. “Teeth and pajamas, now. I’ll be in to help with your hair in a minute.” You said softly but sternly. 

The girl turned to Beej for help but he only shrugged, already knowing not to protest against you. She dropped her shoulders in defeat before saying thank you one last time and giving him her own cheek kiss. She soon shuffled away to get ready for bed, still giggling about the scrunchie.

“Ya’know, doll. I like it when you get tough. It really does something to me.” The demon man wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. You rolled your eyes before making your way over to him. You swung one leg over his lap and straddled him, using your hands to hold and squish his cheeks together. Beetlejuice didn’t waste time using one hand to hold your thigh and the other to grab your ass. 

“Beej....” You started, staring into his golden eyes with a look that was nothing less than seductive. It didn’t take long for Beetlejuice to be wrapped around your finger. His hands started rubbing slowly in their respective spots as you moved down to pace soft kisses on his neck. “....how would you like to do me a BIG favor?” You asked.

****

Being the amazing boyfriend that he was, Beetlejuice said yes to your favor of him being the replacement Santa, at the cost of you being a wreck the entire event. Did you ever stop sweating? No. You were so used to Beej’s crass behavior at home that you didn’t think about how bad it would be to have him around other people. He started telling you all the ‘fun’ party tricks he had planned for the night. As soon as he mentioned giving the girls candy bags full of dead bugs, you realized the mistake you might’ve made. 

There were more lows than highs throughout the night. Beetlejuice would make crude jokes every chance he got. Most of these jokes went over the girls heads, but their parents didn't find them very amusing. Even in your panicked state, you would have to divert Beetlejuice back to his original task. God, don’t even mention when you got close to him. It’s like he’d lose track of what was even happening to openly flirt and make lewd comments about you, in front of everyone. You lost count of how many times you had to say “haha Santa I don’t think Mrs. Claus would like that” before pinching him and making him get back on track. When it was time for food, he ate the scouts’ precious trope hamster. He played it up as a gimmick but you knew the gruesome reality of it all. The glares and stares from the adults in the room burned deep holes into your back. If you had the option to let the ground swallow you whole, you would’ve taken it.

When it finally came time to pass out the Scouts’ merit badges, that surprisingly went with minimal ease. Again, he was making odd jokes but it wasn’t the worst thing to happen all night. When he got down to your daughter, he was a lot more kind with his words than he was with the other girls. You thought he would’ve blown his cover to her as he went on a 10 minute long speech about how great and deserving she was. He was eventually stopped by the scout leader who cleared her throat to get her attention. You weren’t sure if it was the anxiety you’d been feeling all night, the sweet gesture from Beej, or the look of joy on your daughter’s face, but you were just about on the verge of tears. Despite the craziness of the night and the emotions that were flooding your brain, seeing the two of them laugh together made it all worth it.

****

After a long night out, you were finally back to your apartment. You shuffled through the door with her fast asleep on your shoulder. As soon as you got her in the car, she was out like a light. Now all you had to do was get her into pajamas and put her to bed. As you tucked her in, you could already hear Beej calling in his invisible state. 

“Babydoll~ Told ya’ I was gonna be the best Santa ever. Come on, say my name. Say it so you can sit on Santa’s lap and tell him what you want for Christmas~” His scratchy voice echoed from behind you. 

It took everything in you not to roll your eyes. Thankfully your daughter was fast asleep so she wouldn’t hear anymore of Beej’s lewd humor for the night. You stroked her hair for a second before getting up to walk out of her room, making sure to leave a slight crack in the door. You weren’t free from Beej’s voice as you put some things away and tidied up your living room. He was practically begging for you to say his name. Sure, you were being petty but he put you through hell tonight. A little payback never hurt anyone. Especially when you knew it helped fuel a little feral anger him. Angry Beej was your favorite Beej. 

After about 30 minutes, you could feel the air in the room growing a little warm. You smiled to yourself, finally feeling as though you’d tortured him enough. You whispered his name slowly and sensual as you possibly could. As soon as you finished with the last syllable, you didn’t have time to swat away the thick green smoke surrounding your face before you felt his arms wrap around your waist. His nose was practically touching yours and you noticed the mischievous grin on his face.  It didn’t surprise you that he still had on the Santa costume and soon you felt him pepper quick kisses on your neck. 

“So tell me little girl, have you been naughty or nice this year?” He asked in between kisses. You let out a light giggle as the hairs on his beard tickles your neck. 

“Aren’t you supposed to know that already, Santa?” You asked with added sarcasm on the name. He ignored you as he started nipping at your neck. “Anyway,” You stopped him by grabbing his cheeks with your hands. The way his face looked squished between your hands was too adorable for you to handle. 

“Even though you were giving me anxiety all night, I still wanna say thank you for doing me this favor. It really means a lot.” With your words, you used one thumb to gently rub against his cheek. He didn’t even try to hide the goofy smile that filled his face. The only thing missing from his costume was the Santa hat so you could see the baby pink color that started to creep up strands of his hair.  

“Aw, don’t sweat it, doll. You know I’d do anything for you and the kid.” He said so nonchalantly. It wasn’t until you gave him a fond smile that he realized what he said. It was rare for Beetlejuice to be anything less than crass. Whenever he showed moments of sincerity, it made your heart feel warm. His hair only got pinker as you looked at him with hearts in your eyes. 

“I still want to show my appreciation. Seriously, what can I do to say thanks?” You asked, already knowing the type of answer he’d give. You watched as he acted like he was thinking for a moment. Just as his lip twisted back until an evil smirk, you felt one of his cold hands make his way down to your ass and give a gentle squeeze. 

“Wellllll, how about a kiss under the mistletoe, babes?” He leaned in closer to your face. 

You assumed he would’ve made one appear over you because you didn’t have one hanging anywhere in your apartment. A small puff of green smoke appeared in front of you but when you looked above, there wasn’t mistletoe to be found. Beej still had the arrogant smirk on his face as he watched you look around in confusion. After a second, it finally hit you. You made the mistake of looking down to see said mistletoe resting on the belt above his crotch. When you looked back at him, he wiggled his eyebrows. The annoyed sigh you let out could’ve been heard throughout the whole building. God, this guy was such a dumbass. 

“Well? You gonna thank me or what?” The demon man asked, giving your ass a harder squeeze. You ignored his question and reached down. He seemed to get excited, but you disregarded his expectations that when you plucked the mistletoe off of his belt and held it above your heads. 

“Don’t get too cocky, dweeb.” You saw that he was about to protest but you pushed your lips against his before he could. 

Kissing Beetlejuice was nothing new but somehow this was a little different. You just remembered how sweet he was to your daughter and the interactions they’ve had. You thought about how you loved seeing them together. You thought about how much you loved the three of you being together like a family, like the family you’ve secretly wanted for so long. You put all of those thoughts into the kiss. All the love you had for Beetlejuice, you put into your kiss. 

He was a little flustered at first, but eventually got in sync with you. He could tell you were putting your all into the kiss and was determined to do the same. You dropped the mistletoe to the floor and wrapped your arms around the man’s neck, pulling your bodies closer together. Beej let out a small grunt as you let your tongue slip it’s way into his mouth. You knew exactly what you were getting yourself into with that. Not long after did Beetlejuice shove his own freakishly large tongue until your mouth, and later down your throat. You tried your hardest not to let out a loud moan once you felt the wetness fill up your mouth, but you knew that’s exactly what Beej wanted to hear. 

Even though you wanted to go longer, it would’ve been easier to finish what you started in the bedroom. Your daughter never caught you and Beej in the act, thank God, but there have been times where it was a close call. You hesitantly pulled away from the demon man, and it took a second for his tongue to leave from your throat. You gasped for air as your hands rested on his chest. You could see the ready-to-go feral look on his face as he rested his forehead on yours. 

“Was that a good enough thank you?” You asked, letting out a slight laugh. Beetlejuice let out a heartier laugh as his golden eyes glowed bright like stars. 

“I think I could use a little more convincing.” His scratchy voice echoed through your ears as he leaned down to wrap his arms around your thighs. You didn’t have a second to think as he lifted your body off of the ground and threw you over his shoulder with ease; one hand rested on your thigh and the other held a tight grip on your ass. You tried not to laugh too loudly as he carried your to your bedroom, ending the night in hours and hours of lovemaking. 

With being so wrapped up in each other, you didn’t see your daughter peeking from around the hallway corner. Even though you thought she was fast asleep, Beetlejuice’s presence had woken her up while she tucked you in. She snuck out to watch in both joy and disgust as you two basically made out in the living room. She was glad to see you happy but it was still gross to see her parental figures kissing at all. With Beetlejuice still being in his Santa costume, she was able to put two and two together. She didn’t necessarily stop believing in Santa but she was glad Beetlejuice played the part for her. 

The young girl scurried her way back into her room and gently closed the door so you two wouldn’t hear. Boy, was she gonna have a story to tell her fellow Girl Scouts.

Thank you guys so much for reading! See you guys in the New Year!💚💜🖤 🎉

[fataziraphale]

The Best and Wisest Man Whom I Have Ever Known (A Good Omens Secret Santa)

Happy holidays, @ditherwings!!! I was your Good Omens Secret Santa! I had oodles of fun writing this—I too adore literary history and Aziraphale being a dork. You have excellent taste! I hope your holidays are wonderful and you enjoy this offering from me.

When Aziraphale sent a letter to cancel their dinner plans, Crowley dropped a potted plant in shock, scattering ceramic shards all over his kitchen floor. Aziraphale never turned down the Café Royal. He relished in running into all those authors he was fond of, like the unsettlingly tall one who flirted a bit too much for Crowley’s taste. Plus—and this generally piqued Aziraphale’s interest even more—their French patisserie was to die for.

Perhaps more alarming, Aziraphale’s elegantly looped handwriting announced he was cancelling dinner because he was currently in mourning.

In mourning? For a human, then? It didn’t seem in-character. Among their other arrangements, Crowley and Aziraphale had made a pact, some drunken night in 1431, that they weren’t going to love any specific humans. Sure, it was all right for Aziraphale to go the salons and debate the merits of various magazine poems, or be on a first-name basis with his local baker. It was another matter entirely for him to become attached.

It all got too messy. They’d agreed on that. They’d practically emptied out a winery after Boccaccio died—Aziraphale because the man had made such incredible contributions to the literary canon, Crowley because he’d inspired a whole generation of women to take up masturbating, but both because Giovanni was a friend. They knew what happened to humans after they died, they knew the man’s soul would live on until at least Armageddon, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that they would miss him, and they couldn’t keep going on like this, becoming blubbery messes incapable of doing their duties every time a good drinking buddy got ill. So they’d decided not to. They’d promised.

So then who the dev—who was Aziraphale mourning now?

Miffed at Aziraphale going back on his word (and certainly not worried about the angel, don’t be daft), Crowley fetched his hat and coat and set off into the streets of London. Carriages crowded the road, humans weaving in and out of the foggy air. Crowley flagged a cab and rattled off Aziraphale’s address, tapping his foot against the carriage floor as it bumped against the cobblestones.

It was awfully inconvenient, relying on humans for transport, but he had never been particularly good with horses. He’d read in the paper about a German woman who’d traveled a great distance in some sort of horseless carriage. He’d been thinking of heading to the continent to see what the fuss was for himself. He wondered if Aziraphale would like to come along—they could go hear that new Brahms piano thing everyone and their mother raved about.

But no. Aziraphale was in mourning.

Not for the first time, Crowley wondered if it wasn’t simply a euphemism. If Aziraphale wasn’t angry with Crowley but too polite to say so. Sure, they’d had that tiff in the 60s over holy water, but Crowley had thought they’d patched things up. He’d bought Aziraphale his weight in apology chocolate. So what could be the matter now?

Yet as he exited the cab onto Aziraphale’s street, Crowley couldn’t help but notice a pattern: young men sporting black armbands. Yes, there were bucketloads of them—this one hurrying into his apartment, that one buying flowers from a stand on the roadside, those two comforting a weeping woman. Crowley remembered himself just enough to push one mourner into the street, making sure to do so when no carriages where heading his way.

The bookshop was closed, but that was normal for Tuesdays. Crowley rang the bell and, when no one answered, willed the knob to turn.

The angel Aziraphale sat his desk, sniffling over a copy of The Strand.

Crowley stared at him. Indeed, Aziraphale did appear to be mourning—he wore a black crêpe around his upper arm, and another adorned the hat hanging on his hat stand. He put down the magazine with a sigh that came from the very depths of his soul, if angels had that sort of thing (Crowley wasn’t entirely sure). He removed his spectacles from his nose, tucked them into his pocket, and caught eyes with Crowley across the room.

“Oh, my dear boy,” Aziraphale murmured. “You’ve read it, haven’t you? Do sit down. Would you like some tea? No, you’ll likely need something stronger.”

Mystified, Crowley lowered himself into a chair, stopping first to lift a heap of books off its seat and onto the floor. “Read what? I saw the men in the streets. Who died? Is it someone important?” His eyes widened. “They didn’t catch that friend of yours, did they? That author who wears all those gaudy green flowers?”

Aziraphale shook his head. “Oscar is perfectly sound, though I’m not sure A Woman of No Importance was his tightest work. Perhaps he should stick with prose rather than drama.”

“Then what’s this about? Someone from your gentleman’s club? No, it’s got to be some famous bugger if everyone’s gutted about it.” Crowley cast his eyes around for inspiration. “It’s not the Queen. I would have heard if it were the bloody Queen.”

Aziraphale drew a handkerchief and dabbed at his eyes. Crowley had never known Aziraphale to be a crier, but now he was getting the disturbing impulse to start saying things like “There, there” and “It’ll all be all right in the end.”

“He was a great man,” said Aziraphale. “Perhaps Britain’s finest. Crowley, I simply don’t know how I will go on without him.”

Crowley had already reached across the desk for Aziraphale’s hand before he remembered he was supposed to be a demon. “I thought we said we weren’t going to do this. Not after Joan. We weren’t going to get close to humans.”

“Oh, he and I aren’t close. Goodness, though, I should think I’m going to write the man a very stern letter. You simply can’t go playing with people’s emotions like that!”

“It probably wasn’t his fault,” Crowley said. “You know, dying. Humans tend to do it whether they want to or not.”

“But humans can choose not to murder a beloved cultural figure!”

This caught Crowley’s attention. Murder wasn’t always the work of his side, but it was certainly more in his wheelhouse than the angel’s.

“Do you want revenge, angel?” Crowley tried his best to snarl, but his tone came out more like sympathy. “Because I can help you with that. I can turn the murderer’s… undergarments into ants. I don’t know, give me time to think of something really devious, I’m a bit rusty.”

“Perhaps you could write him a letter too,” said Aziraphale, and then his eyes lit up. Something inside him clicked, and a smile lifted his chubby cheeks to Heaven—just as it had when he’d first tried bread back in Mesopotamia, or last week when he’d showed off his charmingly bad gavotte.

“We could start a movement,” Aziraphale gushed. Crowley’s heart, despite not strictly needing to beat, threatened to give out altogether. “Yes, I believe we could! One letter might not sway the man, but twenty? Fifty? One hundred? We could rally the men in the streets! Tape up posters in Trafalgar Square! I could make a picket sign! I’ve always wanted to make a picket sign.” He stood up, raising a triumphant fist as he glared righteously at a stack of encyclopedias. “Why, if we put enough pressure on the man, he’ll have to cave! He’ll bring the dead back to life in no time at all!”

“Er,” said Crowley. “I’m not sure that’s how that works.”

“Don’t be silly, dear. If anyone can think of a way to bring back the world’s greatest detective, it’s Mr. Arthur Conan Doyle.”

“Why would this Conan Doyle bloke kill a detective? Did he do a crime he wants covered up? Does the detective owe him money?”

“What? Oh, Crowley.” Aziraphale chuckled. Crowley could feel his cheeks growing pink for at least three reasons. “Sherlock Holmes is fictional. He’s Doyle’s literary creation.” He frowned. “I gave you The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes last Christmas. Did you not read it?”

Crowley stared. “Do you mean to tell me, all this time, you’ve been planning to skip out on dinner because you’re mourning someone fictional?”

“He’s a very good detective.”

“I don’t believe this! Angel, I thought you were actually depressed!”

“I am depressed!” Aziraphale scoffed. “And it’s perfectly reasonable to be affected by literature! Why, just last year, I closed my bookshop for a month to recover from The Picture of Dorian Gray!”

“I thought you just didn’t fancy dealing with customers!”

“And you, my dear.” Aziraphale jabbed a finger in his direction. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten you! 1806 BC! You cried after reading The Epic of Gilgamesh! At seeing the humans’ first attempt at truly great literature!”

“Angel, those were tears of laughter! That guy Enkidu had a hard-on for two bloody weeks! Could you keep a straight face reading that?”

“There’s no need to be crass.” Aziraphale coughed into his handkerchief, but Crowley could recognize those upturned lips anywhere. “Anyway, I’m hardly alone in this. Plenty of readers lived for the Holmes stories. It’s a true pity there won’t be any more.”

“Good. Oodles of angry humans. Doyle did my job for me.” Crowley was already mentally drafting a very threatening letter. Naming the man’s children should do the trick. In the off-chance he didn’t have any children, well, the replacing Doyle’s undergarments with ants idea was growing on him.

“But you see, this is why I mustn’t go to dinner with you.” Aziraphale assumed his most sincere expression. “It would be disrespectful to be seen lavishly dining and carrying on when such a tragedy has befallen the literary world. Why, none of my friends there would let me hear the end of it.” He gazed forlornly into an empty mug, rimmed around the top with cocoa stains.

“What about lunch?”

Aziraphale’s head snapped up. “Oh, excellent. I’m simply starving. And a man must eat. No one could blame me for that.”

Crowley’s mouth curled into a devilish grin. He held out his hand, and Aziraphale took it. “I won’t tell any of your author friends if you don’t bring up me and Gilgamesh.”

“Perhaps only in private.”

“It’s a funny poem! The bloke had sex for two weeks!”

“Ah, that reminds me. If you truly don’t want your first edition Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, may I have it back? It would make an excellent addition to my collection.”

“You devious bastard. You only bought me that bloody book because you wanted it.”

Crowley weaved between dusty stacks of hardbacks and emerged blinking onto the Soho street. Remembering the mourner with his arm around his compatriot, Crowley vaguely thought of putting an arm around Aziraphale.

But that wasn’t the way their love language worked. Crowley’s love was showing up. Was badgering Mr. Arthur Conan Doyle to a bloody pulp until he brought Sherlock Holmes back to life, logic be damned. Was giving Aziraphale an excuse to pig out on French pastry. Was hailing a cab and taking Aziraphale’s hand to pull him up inside.

As Aziraphale’s plushy hip pressed into Crowley’s, he thought of the new electric lights they’d shown off at the Paris Exposition. He could feel that current now, running through the angel’s body into his.

He realized Aziraphale had only broken his promise if their pact not to love humans extended to fictional ones. At any rate, if it included falling in love with angels, Crowley was in an awful lot of trouble, and he owed Aziraphale about £15.

Perhaps some promises were made to be broken.

[let-the-sparks-fly]

🎁 🙈

WHO: Wally West (E-49) and Donna Troy ( @donna-darkstar )WHAT: Christmas Ask Memes - 🙈  for our muses to stay up waiting for santa &  🎁  for my muse to try & guess what yours got them for christmas

🙈  for our muses to stay up waiting for santa & 🎁  for my muse to try & guess what yours got them for christmas

“Why are we doing this again?” came the yawned question from Donna as she snuggled close to her favorite ginger’s side.

“Because it’s fun.” Wally grinned, wrapping an arm around her, eyes glued to the night sky outside. They had rearranged Donna’s apartment slightly, moving the sofa close to the large window on a whim the redhead had to stay up and catch a glimpse of Santa. Both knew it was ridiculous but they were having fun.

“Look! Is that him?” Wally continued, pointing with his free hand to something outside.

Donna laughed, recognizing what he was pointing at straight away. “Wally, you dork, that’s the light on top of the building next door to signal to planes to not fly so low.”

“So? Santa could totally use that as a homing beacon. See that light and go, ‘Oh yeah, need to visit those apartments, that’s a safe place to land the sleigh’.” Wally countered, clearly having thought about the whole Santa thing one too many times before. 

Another yawn escaped Donna as she hummed in agreement to Wally’s childlike ideas. It had been a long week at work for her, having to work doubly hard as some of the other photographers had taken time off over the holidays. However, the news never slept and Donna didn’t mind the extra work, it was just catching up with her now that she was finally still.

Knowing she was tired and not wanting to keep her up just because of his childish whim, Wally shifted and grabbed a box from under the small Christmas tree. “Go on. You can’t open it yet because it’s not midnight. But you can try and guess what’s inside.”

Donna had sat up when Wally shifted away to get the present, a renewed bit of energy flowed through her at the excitement of getting a gift. “Is it a sweater?” she asked, taking the box and playing along.

Wally shook his head, grinning again with joy at her incorrect guess.

“A fry pan?”

It was a random guess but Donna took great delight in the laugh that erupted from her friend. “You were closer with the first guess.” Wally chuckled through his mirth.

“So clothes?” Donna pondered for a moment as Wally confirmed that guess. It didn’t really narrow it down all that much and she couldn’t remember ever pointing out any clothing to Wally when they helped each other with Christmas shopping a few weeks ago. “A hat?”

“Nope. But you are better at this guessing thing than others.”

“Wally, it’s like three minutes to midnight. Can’t I just open it?” Donna looked at him with somewhat pleading big blue eyes. Wally nodded; he had never been able to resist that look and Donna knew it. She opened the box and peered inside, a warm smile coming to her face at the pair of knee high socks - black with white stars on them, similar theme to her hero costume. 

“Thanks Wally. I love them.” Her gratitude was genuine as she reached for him to give him a hug.

“Er... there’s more.” He held back, running a hand up the back of his neck and tangling his fingers in his wild red locks in a nervous gesture.

Donna looked back in the box and gasped. Setting the socks aside, she pulled the other item out of the box - a framed picture of the team she had been dreaming about. “Wally... is this? Are they...?”

“The Titans, yeah.” Wally shuffled his feet, still not sure if the second part of Donna’s present was silly or overstepping or something. He decided to explain further. “The guys at S.T.A.R Labs were able to repair the some of damage that the coms in my suit sustained when I traveled here. Took a while, but hey, other things took priority.” He shrugged as if things personal to him didn’t matter. And they didn’t when the safety of the world was at stake - the sacrifice of a hero. “Anyway, they couldn’t save everything but there was enough data to save that photo. I thought you might like it on a count of your dreams so I got you a copy made. Sorry if that’s like weird and overstepping.”

“No, not at all.” Donna smiled, reassuring her friend. “I love it. Look how little you are.” Wally sighed in relief and sat back down next to Donna, explaining to her who was who and telling stories until they both fell asleep.

[clapclaphoney]

Eldarya Secret Santa 2018

Dear @oatmealasianraisin

I wish you a wonderful magical Christmas, with lots of love, hugs, and kisses. May you spend the holidays with the people you most love. I really hope you like the little fic I wrote and I hope I have captured the personality of your beautiful Lian Mae as you imagine her.

All the best, hugs and kisses clapclaphoney.

Merry Christmas!

Lian pushed back her black hair, that had fallen into her face as she laughed so hard that she couldn't keep the tears from rolling down her face. Nevra, who was in front of her, danced barmily, jumping from one foot to the other, clapping his hands rhythmically to the music. It was definitely a mistake to tell Nev about Santa Claus, the sleigh with the reindeers and above all about the little Christmas elves living with Santa at the North pole helping him make the toys in his workshop. Now Nevra was wearing pointy red shoes, ringed red and white socks, green shorts with a matching blouse and to round the whole outfit up a pointed red hat. He looked hilarious. Lian curled, holding her stomach, gasping desperately for some air. "Mercy...please stop!" she pleaded repeatedly, bearly controlling her shaking body. Breathless she whipped away tears of laughter that kept coming the instant she took them away. "Please..." Eventually, Nevra stoped his screamingly funny performance by taking a deep graceful bow. "Well, you two seem to enjoy yourselves quite a lot." Both Lian and Nevra froze in place. Their smiling faces faded into catch red-handed shock. Ezarel was leaning, arms crossed, on the door frame of the cantine, which was decorated with twigs of spruce and golden baubles. Nevra, who had his back toward Ez turned in one swift move, ripping the pointed hat off of his head. "Hey, buddy!" He greeted. "You want to join? We made punch and cookies." The merry decoration contrasted with Ez's grim expression so much that Lian had to gulp. Her mouth was dry as the Sahara desert. Nev pointed out the steaming punch on the counter and the platters loaded with different sorts of cookies. But Ez didn't even dignify they their hours of work with so much as a glance, instead, his hard stare wandered from Lian to Nevra and back. "Ez he was just making fun!" Lian tried to sooth the situation. "Yes! Indeed he was making fun! HAHA, can't you see how hilarious this is." His cold and forced smile never reached his eyes making the girl shiver. She wished Ez would take the pranking as equanimity as he pranked, but he didn't, and he never would. His hard, daggers shooting stare was still resting on her until he finally turned to leave without another word. Lian wanted to say something, anything to stop her boyfriend from leaving but the words were stuck in her throat and refused to come out. She followed his retreating figure in silence and narrowed her thick dark lashes when he was gone. She felt terrible. Normally she would ignore the feeling, would keep her distance from Ez until his temper had cooled down and afterward, in a few days, they would naturally move on without talking about it ever again. She hated displeasing confrontations of that kind and was lucky enough that Ez obviously shared her disinclination to talk these things through. But today was different. Today was Christmas and there was no one, really no one she wanted to spend this holiday more than with Ezarel. She loved him dearly, even though she sometimes couldn't express her feelings openly.

She excused herself, giving Nevra an apologetic smile. Lian would love to spend more time with Nev but she just had to go after him. It was like an invisible string was pulling her toward the blue-headed elve. She hesitated before she knocked on his door. Three short knocks echoed down the hall- Silence. Was he somewhere else? Lab maybe? She decided not to give up so easily. "Coming in." She declared. There was no turning back now, she drew one last breath to encourage herself before she pushed down the doorknob. Ezarel was sitting on his bed, his back towards the door. "Ez..." she began and stopped right after his nick-name passed her lips. She didn't know what to say. Was there even something to say? It had been a joke, nothing more nothing less. A little revenge form Halloween, nothing serious. But here he was sulking on the bed. And somehow, she couldn't help but love him even more for his childish behavior. Was he just mad at Nev for pulling something like this on his people or was he mad at her for laughing about the silly way Nevra had danced in his costume, Both? - Probably. She walked slowly around his bed without taking her eyes off of him. He was sitting straight and stiff like a charged bow. The window he was facing was the only source of light in his small room. The decreasing light indicated that the sun was about to disappear behind the horizon. She finally sat down next to him, her movement hesitant and careful. "What do you want Lian Mae?" He asked sharply before she even had her full weight on the mattress. The coldness in his words, the way he pressed her full name out of his mouth made her shiver.- Ok, both! Definitely Both! Maybe he was even angrier at her then he was at Nevra...

I'm sorry I laughed. I want to be with you. Was what she wanted to say, what she needed to say to end this hick-hack. But she couldn't overcome her inner barrier. Her thoughts were racing, some of them even revolved around running for good. She hated this. Everything about the feeling she had when Ez was mad at her and was giving her the cold shoulder treatment. Gathering every bit of courage she could possibly muster she leaned in on him, hugging him sideways, his muscles clearly stiffening under her touch. "What are you doing?" he asked shocked.  The coldness in his voice replaced by a mix of embarrassed and surprised. "I'm hugging you...", "Huh?" "I'm hugging you!" she repeated her face that she buried in his shoulder bright red with embarrassment. "You asked what I wanted to and I... I wanted to hug you!" After cruelly slow passing seconds, his stiffness faded and gave in to gentle warmness. If Lian had the courage to look up, to raise her head, she would have seen that Ezraels face was at least as red as hers, but she kept her face stubbornly pressed to his shoulder plate facing the opposite way. After minutes of silence, Ez shifted his upper body to hug her back. Gently he wrapped his arms around her waist to pull her closer. He placed her between his legs, his one arm rested on her waist the other around her shoulders. Like this, they stayed for long minutes. Savoring each others warmth, each other's nearness that was so dear to them. Eventually, they moved on the bed, lying down without saying a word. It wasn't needed. Lian had rested her head on his chest, harken to the sound of his slow rhythmic heartbeat, tracing with a soft fingertip the seam of his white and blue jacket. The sun had long disappeared and gave way to cloudless, crystal-clear darkness, sparkled with millions of bright stars. Ez had his long soothing fingers in Lian's hair, combing and waving his fingers through the sea of pitch black velvet, humming quietly a charming and pleasant melody in the gentle silver light of the night. "Merry Christmas" she finally whispered squeezing him with shy resolve. "Merry Christmas, love." He replied, placing a tender kiss on the crown of her head. It was the Christmas Lian Mae had wished for.

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

The Not So Hidden Kiss

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Wife Reader

CW: Alcohol consumption, secular celebration of Christmas

When You Have Forever Masterlist

--

Even his skin felt drunk.

It’s possible to sweat out alcohol, even though it’s not scientifically proven to make a hangover end quicker. Hangovers are for tomorrow, tonight is for having to squint when looking at his wife because you’re so bright and beautiful you’re hard to look at. It might be the alcohol that makes him feel dizzy, or it just might be you. Either way Spencer, as he sits in the chair, banned from moving because he’s too drunk and will hurt himself stumbling over the presents, watches you carefully.

Unable to help the smile that spreads across his face, he claps his hands clumsily as Derek and Penelope take their turns singing festive songs. He was never one for Christmastime. It was the time of year when William left them and his mom always seemed to have more trouble when it got darker earlier. The cold weather and dark days, before you, were lonely and empty.

But now, he’s happily drunk, wearing a Santa's Elf hat watching the love of his life dance around their living room singing out of tune Christmas music with Derek.

“Spence!” you shout above Penelope’s old record player, “Please come dance, goose,”

Spencer blushes at the name, you’re clearly drunk too otherwise wouldn’t have used it in front of your friends. He tries to wave you off with a straight-laced smile, but it’s futile. You march over, your movements awkward and excited and your eyes glossy from drinking. Seeing you like this, so happy, so carefree, Spencer finds himself falling in love again and again. It’s part of the reason he hardly drinks, he gets too emotional.

“You know I can’t dance. Besides I thought you said I was banned from moving,” Spencer says, his drunken-whisper coming out more as a shout. You giggle, kissing his nose as heat spreads across his cheeks.

“Please, Spence?” you ask, knowing well that Spencer can hardly resist you when he’s sober, but especially when he’s drunk, “For me. I’ll hold you so tight so that we both don’t fall” she adds, sealing the deal as you goes on your tiptoes to plant a kiss on his forehead.

“You’re a handful,” Spencer says, holding your face in your hands as you smile brightly.

“Your handful,” you say, sheepishly, kissing the palm of your hand. Gracefully, he brings his hands to yours, moving them from his face to his lips as he kisses the back of your hand gently, “There’s no one else who’s handful I’d rather be,” you add, closing your eyes as you plant a quick, chaste kiss on his forehead.

Spencer, not caring that Derek and Penelope are gigging in the corner, takes your hands and twirls you around and around the living room. He’s laughing watching you spin about the room uncoordinatedly as the Christmas music plays and the alcohol flows.

The music slows and so do you and Spencer. The song changes into a quieter, softer tune. Spencer brings his hands to your waist, gently holding you as you sway to the music. He’s not sure if it’s because Penelope’s eggnog was heavy-handed with the liquor or if he just has two left feet. But if Spencer had to bet, he’d place money on it being butterflies. How can he be anything but nervous when your head comes to lay against his chest? You hold them both steady as you dance, keeping your promise of holding him tight.

“See,” you whisper, pressing a quick kiss to his chest, “you can dance,”

He feels a little silly blushing at his own wife sweet talking him in front of their friends. It’s just something that he can’t quite get used to, despite how much it happens. As guarded as Spencer is, you're a flowing river of love and affection.

The song ends and they stop swaying. And somehow Spencer misses it, but he knows that you’ll have all the days to dance. Penelope and Derek mill about in the kitchen, leaving Spencer and you alone in the living room.

Brazen and drunk on something stronger than what’s in Penelope’s bar cart, Spencer grips your waist. You let out a surprised yelp, but once Spencer’s warm hands hold your jaw you melt into his touch. He’ll never grow tired of that. The way you let him just hold you like he’s the one person in his entire universe you trust with your entire being.

“Spence!”

He quiets you with a kiss. You kiss him back in the perfect way that you only can. Spencer’s not so sure why he feels nervous; they’ve done this thousands of times before. He has the curve of you lips memorized, the taste of your against his mouth committed to memory, the softness of you skin in his hands is embedded in his brain.

All the synapses fire at once in Spencer’s mind as he kisses you. He guesses that the wine from dinner and the cocktails from earlier make this kiss more magical than it should be. But then again, that just might be you. Every kiss with you, even the ones shared with drunk in Penelope’s living room are magical.

“Jesus you two, we go into the kitchen for a second and you too are going at it like-” Derek says, coming from the kitchen carrying a bowl of popcorn to share.

“Please don’t finish that sentence, Derek,” Spencer begs, his face bright red, but smiling as you wrap your arms around his waist holding him tight.

Much to Derek’s amusement and Spencer’s thinly veiled embarrassment, you frantically peppers kisses on his face, turning it an even brighter red. Spencer can feel his skin grow hot from the attention and warmth fill his entire being. He’s never been one for Christmas, the coldness and loneliness of the holiday often made him feel even more alone. But now, shielding his face from your kisses and fighting off Derek’s teasing Spencer doesn’t think he can ever not like Christmas.

That’s for another day, just one day, of countless days you’ll share. Because when you have forever, another day is just that.

TAGLIST! I really really appreciate you all! Thank you for your wonderful comments and thoughtful reblogs! It's so encouraging to see your little messages <3

@pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @shemarmooresfedora @reidslibrarybook @fandomfriend33 @folkreid @the-chaotic-cow @muffin-cup @jswessie187 @fbivestreid @emilyprentisswif3 @doctorspenceryeet @alexrosex99 @alexontheinternet @cncos-baby @reidslovely @strawberryspence @drayshadow @navs-bhat @mimischaos @nomajdetective @xoxospencerreid @gspenc @ssa-uglywhore27 @alexxavicry @simmonsmilf@reidsmilf @spencerreidat3am @reidsacademia

[ladyknightleyisundercover]

Game, Set and Match

Dear Kat ( @ronaldswheezy ), a little bird suggested that you might enjoy a little present of your own as a thank you for all the hard work you put into the Romione Secret Santa once again. I couldn’t agree more – please consider this nonsense feat. your faves a HUGE thank you from me! I hope you have a wonderful rest of the festive period :)

Yesterday, Hermione Granger had received her second ever Weasley Christmas jumper. It had been hand-knitted, of course, by Mrs Weasley out of wool that was a gorgeous shade of lilac, almost identical to the dress she’d worn to Bill and Fleur’s wedding. She had been delighted. Everything the jumper stood for was representative of what she had received from the Weasley family over the years: love, care, kindness, and acceptance into a second family.

All the symbolism was lovely, of course. But today, all she cared for was the fact that the jumper was warm. She was, as her dear, sweet, loving boyfriend would have put it, bloody freezing. She snuggled further into the jumper, wrapped the hideous orange scarf (which clashed with everything) more tightly around her neck, and checked her watch again, letting out the tiniest of sighs. She pointed her wand at her feet, silently casting another warming charm and wondering if her toes would thaw out before June, or if even that was too much to hope for.

It was a good job she thought her boyfriend was sweet and loving and all those other things, because if he wasn’t, she struggled to think of a reason why she would be spending her Boxing Day watching the Chuddley Cannons play Quidditch. Actually, she had very little interest in watching any team play Quidditch on any day of the year. She made an honourable exception for matches in which Ginny played, but although she’d never tell her, she quite often found those boring, too. Everyone played so fast it was hard to tell who was doing what, and she often had to rely on the faces of those she was watching the match with to school her own reactions. But she loved Ron very much, so she had agreed to come with him to watch the Cannons play the Tornados the day after Christmas.

Truthfully, she had only come because the rest of the Weasleys’ ribbing of him (and prior experience) had led her to believe they would be back home within half an hour, and she could be tucked up on the sofa with one of the many lovely new books she had received yesterday and maybe a nice hot chocolate made from the Honeydukes’ secret recipe. The Cannons could be relied upon for very little, except their ability to be beaten in less than forty-five minutes.

Unfortunately, four of the Tornados first team members had overindulged in one way or another at Christmas Dinner, and thus were unable to play. Hermione supposed this was actually fortunate for some—including the novice reserve players who had been drafted in to play the Cannons, on the grounds that, well, come on, it was the Cannons—but for her, this was a bad turn of events indeed. They’d been there for an hour and a half, there had been no sight of the Snitch and to make matters worse, the Tornados had only managed to score two goals. She’d been there when they’d played the Harpies, who had scored twenty-five goals in twenty minutes and had only stopped (Ginny told them afterwards) because they’d taken pity on the fans.

Not only had there been very little action, she hadn’t even taken a proper warm outfit, despite the thick layer of frost, thinking they’d be home before she felt the cold. That’d teach her. Her Weasley jumper was good, but it wasn’t going to cut it much longer. She glanced over at Ron, who was wearing a Cannons t shirt (and bobble hat) but seemed to be unaffected by the cold, and was instead staring intently up at something going on on the pitch. He really was very enraptured by it all. And it was nice for him, she supposed, to see the Cannons actually playing well. Bloody hell, though. She hoped it would all be over soon. She was so bored.

Hermione glanced at her Weasley jumper again. The sleeves were really quite roomy; ideal for burying your hands in. Or burying other things... She glanced at her handbag. She was never without a book, and with so many nice new ones to read, well, she hadn’t bothered deciding which to take with her today, she’d just chucked them all in there. Thank Merlin she’d perfected that Undetectable Extension Charm. Keeping her eyes on Ron the whole time—a trial, really—she reached over and pulled out the first one her hands came to.

Oh, excellent. It was the biography of the first female Minister of Magic. A paperback, too! With a few quick magical alterations to the jumper, she was able to arrange it so that it was tucked up one sleeve, with enough room, just about, for her to read. Okay, so it wasn’t the easiest or most comfortable reading position ever. But it would suffice for now, and she’d had worse...

Half an hour later, she was a good fifty pages in, and really enjoying it. She must remember to thank George and Angelina again for gifting it (and Ginny, for her suggestion that she simply distribute her reading list to friends and family like a wedding registry). She was hardly noticing the cold any more, and she’d just gotten to a really good bit when she heard a cough. And then another, slightly more pointed one. She looked up. “Oh,” she said sheepishly.

Ron was looking at her with what was clearly meant to be a very disappointed expression, but even he couldn’t manage to keep a straight face. “Honestly,” he said. “I take you out to the most exciting match the Cannons have played in decades and you’re reading!”

Hermione was, for once, lost for words. “I...it’s educational?” she managed in the end. Ron scoffed. “I’m sorry!” she said. “I was cold!”

“And reading helps warm you up?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Um...it increases the blood flow to the brain?” she tried.

“And in doing so removes it from your extremities?” he replied. She conceded defeat. “Honestly, why didn’t you say you were cold? I’d’ve given you—”

“Your t shirt? You’d get hypothermia!” she said. “Don’t be silly, I’ll be fine.”

“If I’d got hypothermia, you’d be forced to warm me up, though,” he said mischievously.

“As we stand,” she said, “I’m very much afraid you’ll be forced to do that to me, when we get back.”

“A trial, I’m sure,” he said, stepping closer to her.

“It will be awful,” she said, wrapping an arm around him.

“Very unpleasant for all involved,” he said, pulling her closer.

“I’m just dreading it,” she breathed and then—then he kissed her.

It was reasonably chaste—they were in public, after all—and it wasn’t like it was the first time. When they’d first started dating, she’d counted every kiss, unable to believe that, finally, they were together. That he loved her back. That he wanted to do these things with her. Now, of course, they’d been together over eighteen months and she’d stopped counting. Their kisses had become routine, commonplace. So had...well, a lot more. But his kisses still took her breath away every time.

She forgot about her cold toes, forgot the book that was stuffed uncomfortably up her sleeve. Forgot about everything except Ron, and here, and now.

And...cheering? Getting louder? They broke apart, exchanging confused glances for a second.

“Ladies and Gentleman!” boomed the announcer, sounding like she couldn’t believe what her own mouth was saying. “For the first time in, I believe, one hundred and forty-seven years, the Chuddley Cannons have caught the Snitch!”

Ron turned pale.

Almost of its own accord, Hermione found her arm rising slowly, one hand covering the mouth that was gaping open. All around them, the crowd was going absolutely wild. Even the Tornados fans were excited, having witnessed such an historic win. Someone in the row behind them hugged Ron, cheering wildly; someone else slapped her on the back. The Cannons fans were cheering louder than she’d ever heard...and still Ron had barely moved.

“Please say something,” she begged a moment later. He turned to face her, and the look on his face was so similar to the look of utter shock he’d worn the first time she’d kissed him, she thought for one wild moment they were back in the Room of Requirement. “Ron, please say something,” she said, a slightly hysterical giggle escaping before she could help it.

She slapped her hand back over her mouth, in case another should burst out, and reached out to him with her other hand. “Ron?”

“Oh, bloody hell!”

[canadian-buckbeaver]

Don’t Hat on the ComicBerry

A late Christmas gift for @soloshikigami , commissioned by @battre-la-rage , based off of Battre’s picture.

Merry Christmas!

Sans had to chuckle as he watched the other version of him dragging the two Papyruses around the mall.  The little version of Sans was like a tugboat, propelling the other two forward and through the ‘tides’ of the mall.  It was the final countdown to Christmas, and naturally the building was packed with humans and even the occasional monster, all trying to get that last-minute shopping done in time.  He followed lazily behind them, keeping a wary eye on the humans that were passing them, pressing close to them.  They had already ‘lost’ one wallet in such crowds, he didn’t want to lose another one.  So he followed behind them like a short, stout bodyguard.  It was an easy job as long as he kept his magical blue iris activated.  No one ever came too close to them then.  And he was able to stay close to the others.  Not close enough to them to be stifling, but just close enough that he could hear Blue’s overexcited tones exclaiming over everything in the windows that they passed.  Just close enough to catch the occasional glimpse of those wide, beautiful eyes, sparkling brightly in joy and wonder.  To see those cheekbones slightly dusted with the palest blue blush with enthusiasm…

He is positively adorable, Sans thought to himself, already for the countless time that day.  His grin relaxed, a small, long-forgotten sparkle appearing momentarily to his own eye lights as he watched them.  For a while now, he had tried to deny his feelings.  He had tried telling himself that Blue reminded him of Paps, a much, much smaller version of Paps, perhaps when the skeleton was a baby bones.  Both skeletons were energetic, shared similar goals, hated their brothers puns and loved cooking after all.  He also tried saying that Blue was legitimately another version of him from another universe, so of course he would be curious about him, wanting to know more… wanting to hang around him…

But no more lying, not to his friends, or to himself anymore.

Sans was positively taken with Blue.  Infatuated with his energy, his caring, his constant belief that everyone can do a little better if they tried hard enough, and how he cared for Stretch, his own lazy brother, and how quickly he had bonded with Sans and Paps.

Speaking of Stretch, the orange hoodied skeleton was jogging right alongside Blue, holding tight to his hand, acting as a very bony anchor to keep him from wandering off too far and too fast.  Sans’ own brother, Paps, held Blue’s other hand, just as eager and excited as his smaller companion, but had been on his best behaviour since they had first arrived at the mall.  Together the two energetic skeletons had ooed and ahhed over the flickering Christmas lights, over the fake snow in the windows, and especially over the toy train that puffed real steam.  Stretch, the Blue’s older brother, chuckled at their reactions, smiling back Sans, shooting him a knowing wink.  Their brothers really were the coolest.

Sans sighed softly, smiling at them.  They really were the coolest of the cool.  He carefully eyed Blue, making sure that Stretch didn’t catch any of the soft looks that he would sometimes shoot at the oblivious skeleton.  Stretch had already warned him about being too forward with his brother…

His very innocent brother.

* * * * *

It was only a few short weeks ago that Stretch had asked him to join him for supper.  As they settled in their favourite booth at Grillby’s, Stretch had cut directly to the chase.

“I thought I would approach you as a friend first.  I like you a lot, Sans, and would hate to lose our friendship over it.” Stretch had told him, pulling the sugar stick from his mouth and sticking it in his pullover’s pocket.  “But it is my brother that we are talking about.   He’s… not experienced in any sense of their word.  So, to protect him, let him approach you, not the other way around.  He’s read his dating manual numerous times, probably knows the thing cover to cover, but that is the only experience he has with dating.  Excluding the little play dates that he had with Chara of course.  Let him decide what he really wants with you, a relationship or friendship, without the little hints or nudges.”  Stretch had peered down at Sans, his one iris sparking to life so quickly that the magic startled a nearby beaver and rabbit monster.  “Or you’ll be in for a bad time. Got it?”

Sans had a lot of respect for Stretch.  Not only because he was another judge monster, one that had been chosen by the Creator to judge the human for the sins and STATS, but also as a fellow monster.  It had taken a lot of balls (heh!) to say that to Sans’ face, to risk a friendship to protect his brother.  So he had agreed to the conditions.  He would let Blue decide what he wanted with Sans, and Stretch wouldn’t interfere with the outcome.  It was a good deal, perhaps a better one than he deserved.  He nodded and promised Stretch.

* * * * *

So that brings us back to today.  Blue had somehow been able to convince the three of them to finish Christmas shopping in possibly one of the worst times to shop.  Humans were crammed into every store like sardines, standing shoulder to shoulder and pushing, the monsters trapped right there with them.  To say the least, it was quite the experience.

A couple hours later and Sans was quite done with the whole experience of it all.  They had all been pushed and shoved more times than they could count, been hit with bags, and one monster bigot tried to start a fight.  Stretch too looked tired, even Paps looked ready for a rest.  Blue was still rearing to go, full of boundless energy.

Sans was slightly jealous.  He would love to have that much energy, keep up with him.

“Come on guys!  One more shop and then we can stop for lunch!” Blue said, attempting to cheer them on.

Stretch shook his head.  “Sorry bro… I’m all burnt out…  I need a couple minutes to rest…”

To Sans’ surprise, Paps nodded.  “I must agree with the lazier version of me.  I also need a few minutes to rest.”

Blue looked downcast.  He longingly turned to Sans, his eyes large and watery.  It reminded him of the anime that Alphys and Undyne of both their universes liked to watch, or those cat videos that Papyrus showed him from time to time.  He could feel his soul pound slightly.  He needed to protect this baby…. He was so precious, so cute… “I can still go with you Blue.” he heard himself saying, a small sigh escaping his mouth.

Paps and Stretch looked at him in surprise as Blue looked at him with complete and utter joy, his pupils turning to stars.  “Sans, are you sure?  Usually you have had a nap and eaten lunch by now…” Paps said worried.

“I know, but I’m fine.  Go on guys, we’ll catch up.” he said, nodding to Stretch and Paps.  He could already knew what would happen.  Stretch would go for a quick smoke break, perhaps even drag Paps into a sweet shop or bakery.  He would try and check up on them every so far but…

This perhaps was the best opportunity that Sans had to spend some alone time with Blue.

But then again, he was starting to get tired.  Maybe he should rest first.  He was nothing but a lazy bones after all.

The next moment, hood was seized and he was being pulled backwards, away from the brothers.  “We’ll back soon!” Blue sang, leaving Sans to shrug helplessly at the Papyruses.

“Do you think that they will be ok?” Paps asked Stretch.

The lazy skeleton nodded.  “Blue looks sweet and innocent but he has been trained by Alphys, much like you and Undyne.  He won’t hesitate to protect himself against random humans.  And he has your brother with him.  Sans will protect him if anything happens.”  Stretch was already patting at his pockets, searching for his cigarettes.

* * * * *

Sans had to admit that skipping his break was worth it.  He had insisted on grabbing a quick cup of coffee, just something to keep him going, but other than that they were non-stop.  Ducking into one shop, then the next.  Occasionally buying the odd doo-dad but, just enjoying their time together.  Sans felt his guard begin to drop, his smile relax.  He found himself having a great time.  Having Blue’s energy concentrated solely on him was, well, it was indescribable. Those blue eyes were his alone, that infectious smile and giggle were his…

He was truly hooked on this skeleton.

“Ooh! Sans!  Look at the hat shop!” Blue said suddenly, roughly pulling Sans’ arm to the side.  Sure enough there was a little hat in the corner of the mall.  There were many mannequins and heads in the windows, all sporting some sort hat of every era.  “Let’s look in here quickly!” Blue said.

Sans couldn’t say no.

The shop was completely dead, not a soul to be seen.  Sans supposed that hats weren’t the hot commodity of the year.  The salesclerk looked bored, taping away at the computer, peeking up interestedly at the two skeletons entering the shop.  She was delighted with the two of them.  Gushing about them, she was amazed with the two of them.  Of course she was a student doctor with a biology major, so seeing two skeletons walk in, no flesh or muscles or organs to see or speak of… Sans and Blue now knew what celebrities felt like.

They tried on every hat of the store it seemed like.  From the pirate’s long feathered felt hat, to the biking helmet, even the strange propeller hat.

Blue and Sans giggled at themselves as they tried on the final two hats.  Sans had gone with the classic Santa hat, guaranteed to replenish the Christmas spirit in any scrooge.  Blue on the other hand, had found a silly toque with fox ears.  Sans glanced at Blue, taking in the sight.  The red-brown of the fur should have clashed with Blue’s blue scarf and coat but, instead he found that it brought out his eyes that much more.

“You guys look absolutely amazing!” the clerk said.  “You guys will be the best looking skeletons on your date!”

…..

Wait.  Did the clerk just assume that he and Blue were dating?  Sans wanted to argue with her, set the record straight (heh!), but his soul warmed at the thought of the thought of this little outing being their first date.

Blue smiled at her.  “Thank you very much, Human Sarah!” he laughed his signature mweh heh heh.  “We thank you for your help in choosing the perfect hats!”

Sarah giggled and began to pick up the extra hats, replacing them on their heads and shelves.  Sans looked down at Blue’s mitted hand and gently took it, squeezing the hand softly.  Blue looked up at him, a soft blush lighting up his cheekbones as he smiled back up at him.  Sans led the way to the register, taking out his card and paying for the hats.

After all, a gentleman always pays on the first date.

* * * * *

Blue was still holding tight to Sans’ hand as they traveled the length of the mall, the both of them not letting go of each other.  They were happy and content, their souls thumping in unison.  They were quiet, just enjoying the moment.  Blue quickly waved to another monster, one that looked similar to Sans’ NiceCream Man.  The tall bunny had quickly waved back but continued on their way.  He must be in a hurry…

“Hey look. A photo booth.” Blue pointed out.  “I first heard of them when I was still down in UnderSwap. They are used to take lots of fun, happy photos of humans.  To remember certain events or memories.  I’ve never tried them before… Do you want to try it with me?”

Of course Sans couldn’t say no to him.

Plugging in the coins, he joined Blue inside the little booth.  For the first three shots, they smiled largely at the camera, their eye lights wide and joyful.

For the last picture Sans couldn’t help himself.  The frame was perfect for the holidays, surrounded by ribbon and a piece of virtual mistletoe hanging between them.  As the camera whirled to life, he quickly bent over and kissed Blue’s cheek.  His teeth landed with a small little clank, blue magic sparking between them.  At the sensation Blue’s eye lights became wide and shiny, sparkling.

The picture snapped.

[robronsecretsanta]

Fanfic: in all the worlds, our lights still twinkle:

my secret santa gift for the incredible @vicbartons, have a very merry christmas everyone!

‘and i’ll have a blue, blue christmas.’

The day is ruined.

He didn’t think he’d actually be kicked out on Christmas Day over one comment.

A comment he didn’t really mean to come across as too insulting in the first place, but the next thing he heard was a hard slap, and then he felt a sting, and then his cheek was bright red and he was being hurled up from his seat and out the door.

He should have expected it, because he went for Andy, and dad was sitting only a few feet away from them, and he’d always take his side anyway.

And it was all, “If you can’t behave yourself today then you can sling your hook!”

He’s not even got a coat on, knows that his nose is probably flushed pink and in need of a scarf to warm it up but he can’t possibly go back to the farm now.

So instead, he’s walking towards the village and wondering if anything is open.

When nothing is, he cautiously decides to sit on one of the pub benches and get used to the sleet which is suddenly all over his jeans and cooling him even further.

He manages to think darkly after a few seconds and so his mind jumps to thinking of his mum and how she would have never let this happen to him. She would have pulled him into a hug despite his eighteen years, and kissed his head and told Jack to pipe down and ignore his silly lad.

It makes tears begin to swell in his eyes and then he’s hearing the sound of feet trudging towards him over the snow and suddenly he fucking remembers where he dared to sit.

“You alright?”

Robert looks up and Aaron’s there. Aaron Dingle.

The popular lad with the mates and the football captain badge and the muscles.

Robert can’t help the way he stares at him, because annoyingly it’s become this awful habit of his and he’s loathed to call it a crush on the Dingle, but yeah, it is.

It’s a crush on a boy, and that’s new and different and even stranger but it’s not like he can help it.

Because Aaron, he smiled, and he doesn’t usually smile but when he did -

(“Sorry mate.” He said, voice deep, clear at the same time.

Robert’s eyes widened, this heart flowing through him and he had his mouth hanging open like a fish as he looked at how blue his eyes were and Aaron bent down, started picking up all his nerdy shit.

He shook his head slowly. “It’s alright.” He said after a few seconds. “My fault really.” And then he was standing up and practically running to his next class.

He didn’t even dare to look back.)

He knows it is, has known since he bumped straight into him and Aaron placed his hand on Robert’s shoulder for a flipping second and Robert felt his knees grow weak.

(It’s more than a crush, he knows.)

But he can deal with it, because Aaron doesn’t even know who he is really. He knows Vic of course, because she’s all over his best mate Adam. But Robert’s just the brother who’s awkwardly a year older than them all so it doesn’t matter.

Only now it does, because he’s speaking to him and Robert can’t even think straight.

“Uh - yeah fine.” He says, can’t even bring himself to raise his head and look at the boy with the blue eyes and the soft hair and the -

He comes even closer, shudders as he hugs at his big black jacket. “You want a pint? Because it’s closed today -”

“I’m fine.” Robert snaps, wants to be buried suddenly because Aaron’s just being Aaron, being kind, nice, but he shouldn’t be because it’s only Robert and he doesn’t have to still be here.

So he feels sorry for you, great.

Aaron makes a small sound and then frowns. “You’re Vic’s brother?” He says, all confident, like he doesn’t even need to try and Robert secretly hates him a little.

Robert gulps hard, realises that he has to raise his head and look at him now. Only when he does Aaron’s got a half smile on his face and Robert instantly looks back down towards the snow. “Yeah. You wouldn’t know -”

“Robert?” He says, and something makes Robert’s eyes flicker uncontrollably.

Just hearing him say his name, it’s weird, so strange and inviting and it’s -

“Yeah. The one not into cows and tractors.” Robert admits to, pokes fun at Andy and doesn’t expect Aaron to laugh the way he does. Then he’s noticing the cans in his hands.

Two, almost like he knew Robert was outside and wanted to share a drink with him.

It’s almost too much and then Aaron’s just waving one out towards him and Robert is nodding slowly until they’re sipping beer side by side on the bench with their knees touching and he can’t really breathe.

“Suppose you don’t want to tell me why you’re out here on your own then?” Aaron says, voice heavy with something Robert thinks is concern.

It makes him gulp hard. “Not a fan of Christmas,” he says slowly. “Not the same without my mum.”

And it feels like he’s known this popular stud of Dingle for years and years, and that’s why he’s talking about Sarah, and that’s why he doesn’t mind when Aaron says he’s sorry to hear that.

“You could always help me deal with my lot in there?” And almost on cue there’s a cackle of laughter and Robert knows that it’s Chas.

For a second he wonders what Jack would say about his son being with the Dingles for Christmas, probably something about slumming it with them.

And then he’s watching the softness on Aaron’s face, the lad who barely barely knows him really and he can’t help but wonder -

“Why?” He’s asking, a little blunt, and Aaron’s suddenly all reserved now. He just lets out a shrug and he’s jumping off the bench, playing with the snow and building a ball in his hands.

“Does there have to be a reason?” He replies.

Robert frowns, “There does when - when uh - when you barely know me.” And he’s all shy and ridiculous again. “Why would anyone want me around for -”

He’s feeling sorry for himself one minute and then feeling a snowball land across his face the next.

It makes him gasp and then he’s throwing one back and Aaron’s laughing his head off and it’s the best sound in the entire world.

It makes him feel young, makes him feel like there’s nothing to really hold him down and make him feel sad.

Because Aaron’s fucking noticing him and they’re acting like actual teenagers in the snow until Robert’s loosing his balance and it’s like something out of a movie as Aaron holds his hand out and ends up falling on Robert’s chest instead.

They’re still laughing as they face each other and Robert can’t even believe this gets to be real.

“You coming inside then?” Aaron’s asking, still asking, and it can’t be pity, it must be -

“Yeah.” Robert whispers out, and he gets to have a Christmas.

He gets to have a jumper thrown over him by Chas, a towel to dry himself off first. He gets to play a board game with Aaron’s little sister and his a million and one cousins.

And then he hears -

“That’s Robert.” Liv says, eyes almost sparkly as she nudges at Aaron’s side and Robert can hear them speaking from across the room.

It makes something bubble inside him as he has April on his lap drawing something.

“Yes.” Aaron hisses back, and Robert can hear him over he sound of giggling and music. “Saw him outside, all on his own.” He says, voice all heavy.

“Almost fate that.” Liv teases, “Didn’t have to go over there and wish him Merry Christmas after all.”

Robert’s eyes widen, and he can’t believe what he’s hearing.

Aaron was going to -

Aaron actually -

Robert fights a smile, is suddenly in awe of how well Aaron can play it cool. And when he looks over at him, his cheeks are red and he looks embarrassed because Paddy is teasing him too now and Robert is more than a little overwhelmed.

And then they’re sitting next to each other during a proper rowdy Christmas dinner and Robert’s got a yellow paper hat on.

“Thank you, for letting me in.” Robert whispers to Aaron above the noise of the room.

And Aaron looks towards him and shrugs. “It’s fine.” He says and for the first time Robert can see past the coolness and see a little nervousness behind a smile.

It makes Robert smile too.

And then Aaron’s slowly, so fucking cautiously sliding a hand into Robert’s and it doesn’t matter that it’s clammy and that this room is stuffy.

Because they’ll escape outside soon and he’ll finally kiss Aaron Dingle on Christmas Day.

So he squeezes back and watches Aaron’s face relax into something Robert dares to call something along the lines of love.

And so, the day won’t be too much of a waste after all.

~*~

‘last christmas i gave you my heart’

Vic’s calling it a soiree and it’s ridiculous really considering Adam’s in the corner with his fingers poking into the cheesy nibbles without a care in the world and there’s shitty Christmas music on in the background.

Aaron’s got a hand around a can of beer, it’s cold and he likes how it keeps him awake almost. That as well as the flickering lights which won’t stop making his eyes twitch.

“Oi, you gonna crack a smile tonight?” He hears, and he doesn’t mean to whip his head up as quickly as he does. It makes Ed look at him all concerned and that’s the last thing he needs right now. “Are you alright?” He’s asking and Aaron gulps hard.

He knows he’s hardly said a word, and that’s because this fancy Christmas party hosted by one of his most unfancy best mates isn’t ideal.

Because *he could arrive any second really.

“I’m fine.” Aaron lies, “Just a bit stuffy in here.” He says, and Ed does what he always does, just lets it go. Aaron welcomes it, smiles softly as Ed nods his head.

“We don’t have to stay for long.” Only Ed would stay for hours more, because he’s the chatter box, he’s the life and soul and Aaron’s already sick of hearing about how lucky he is to have bagged a rugby player with a personality.

Only, cruelly it doesn’t feel like that. Because Ed came along when Aaron was in the worst headspace in the world, he was fucking heartbroken and he allowed himself to be wined and dined and before he knew it they were together.

It happened so fast, but Ed was so good, and so nothing else seemed to really matter.

“Yeah.” Aaron drags out, and then Ed’s going on about something.

Only Aaron can’t even hear, because the door is going and Vic is laughing and welcoming someone and he’s there.

The one person who Aaron has avoided all year.

Robert Sugden.

He’s reminded of when he first properly spoke to him, a gobby teenager with an unhealthy habit of messing his sister about.

(“You clearing off then or do I need to get your lot round here to drag you home?”

And Aaron was hit by a sudden feeling, watched Robert with his dark jeans and white top stand in front of him with a frown on his face.

“Uh I - yeah I should be heading home sorry.” He said, almost couldn’t be sarky with him and he knew it meant something bad.

Because then Robert smiled at him for just a second and something inside him turned to jelly. )

The sight of him there in his long grey coat, patterned shirt, expensive shoes and bottle of red, makes Aaron feel like he’s back there again.

Back to last Christmas, back amongst the snow and shouting confessions of feelings and kissing and -

( “I’m not being difficult you prick, I’m in love with ya!”

And that happened meant to come out, but it had.

And they were standing in the middle of the village, snow falling around them and stars twinkling and Aaron had lost it.

Because Robert just didn’t seem to get it.

But then he was turning around slowly and blinking out a shocked expression, one of true disbelief.

“You -”

And Aaron looked away.

“You just said that you -”

“I know!” Aaron shouted, eyes watering.

“Take it back then.” Robert said, like he was a child, like it could fix it.

“I can’t.” Aaron told him and then suddenly Robert was charging up to him and -

They were kissing just like that, hot and passionate and it was heavy with all this feeling and lust.

And Aaron was in heaven. )

Then it was just over, just like that.

One second, Aaron was shouting that he was in love with Robert, the older brother of Vic’s who he had secretly loved since he was sixteen, and Robert was kissing him harshly and passionately and everything was almost okay.

And then the next, Robert wasn’t in his bed anymore, he was gone and Vic was telling him that he had gone back to his fiancé for Christmas instead.

And everything was lost.

He’s still standing there by the time Ed calls Aaron’s name, but he doesn’t even try to hear. He’s just looking at him, and thinking about how much of his heart he gave to the man.

The man who hugged him when he was seventeen and told him that being gay wasn’t that big of deal.

The man who taught him how to drive.

The man who listened for hours as Aaron explained how he had this crush on someone he shouldn’t, gave him advice Aaron knew he couldn’t act on.

The man who was just everything.

And he bolts, he’s out of the house before Vic calls his name and tells him that her stupid brother has arrived to hurt Aaron all over again.

He goes towards the playground and is suddenly thankful that it isn’t snowing this year so he can sit on the swings.

He rocks himself back and forth, eyes looking up towards the velvet sky cluttered with silver specs of beauty. It makes him close his eyes, breathe out slowly and almost pained because it’s all back again and his heart can’t even begin to forget.

When he opens his eyes again, he’s there next to him.

He’s got a dark grey scarf on and he’s just staring straight into Aaron’s fucking soul.

“Hello.” He says, and for the first time, he seems small in Aaron’s eyes. The four years between them is suddenly disappearing and Aaron can’t quite believe it.

He doesn’t know what to do, just digs his feet into the ground to stop himself swinging and huffs out a sigh.

“Didn’t think you’d be here tonight.” Robert says, and Aaron knows what that means. He knows that Robert wasn’t expecting to have to face the awkward situation head on.

“Well I am. Sorry to disappoint.” Aaron says, and he hates it, how cold and distant his voice is.

Because Robert used to make him warm, used to make him feel things he didn’t think were actually possible.

And then he told him, after so many years of being so afraid, and Robert left him anyway.

“You never disappoint me.” Robert whispers, and Aaron watches him edge closer and holds his breath. “Aaron?”

And somehow it makes Aaron explode, he’s standing up and charging away until he’s by the church and he hears the bell’s ringing.

“Leave me alone.” Aaron shouts back, but Robert’s too close and their lips nearly touch.

It makes Aaron’s legs feel funny and he gulps hard.

“Don’t be like this.”

“Like this?” Aaron says, stunned. “What? Cold, distant, hurt?” He doesn’t mean to say the last word but he can’t help it.

Robert looks away. “I never meant to hurt you.” He says, slowly. “Come on Aaron, I’ve known you for years.”

And the way he says it, it’s like they’re nothing but old friends. But it’s not like that, because Robert led them to bed, Robert kissed him and stripped him and they had sex on flipping Christmas Day last year.

“We had sex.” Aaron hisses, cuts to the chase. “You let me think you felt the same.” He whispers, eyes watering. “When we were -” he blinks quickly. “I thought ‘this is amazing because he actually wants me, he actually feels how I do after all this time of worrying he wouldn’t’. And then you were gone.”

It’s clear, the shame written all over Robert’s face and the way it crumbles away.

“I was scared of what was happening okay?” Robert tells him, bites his lip hard and sighs. “Because - you were always - always there and - I shouldn’t have felt the way I did when I first saw you.” Robert looks like he’s thinking back to the moment, all chavvy suits and a bad attitude. “I wanted you to like me.” Robert almost laughs. “How weird is that?”

And Aaron finds himself softening a little, can’t help how he frowns. “Not weird at all.”

Robert shakes his head. “So I realised - I had feelings for ya, feelings that I shouldn’t feel for the bloke who was meant to be chasing my sister.” And that’s how it was. “So I locked it away until that night, and I couldn’t control it anymore.”

Aaron shivers, remembers the passion and how it lasted for hours and hours.

“Because you wanted me too.” Robert says, nose pink from the cold as he speaks.

Aaron gulps hard. “So why didn’t you stick around? We’re both adults now Rob, you could have just spoke to me and -”

“I was petrified.” Robert blurts out. “I hadn’t - you were the first - first guy to make - make me feel weird shit.” He shrugs, a hand through his hair as he speaks. “When we slept together, I’ve never felt like that before.”

And it makes Aaron tingle, almost thaw. “So why - why couldn’t you just -”

“I was with someone.”

“I know!” Aaron snaps, Chrissie entering his mind as he remembers Vic mention her name in passing over the year.

Robert looks ashamed of himself, “I was going to tell her.” He says. “Then she - we - there was a pregnancy scare.” And Aaron’s eyes widen. “She thought she was and - and when she wasn’t I felt like it was my way to you, to have you properly. So I told her the truth.”

There’s this heaviness between them.

“And I was five minutes away before I saw you with him.”

Him, Ed.

Aaron feels something swirl in his chest.

“You were laughing, looked so happy and -” Robert shrugs. “It’s not like you needed me.”

Aaron frowns harshly. “Of course I did.” He whispers, comes closer. “I love you, you stupid, self-centred, idiotic …” Robert looks down to Aaron’s lips and his eyes glisten a little. It makes Aaron’s chin wobble. “Amazing, thoughtful, beautiful twat.” He heaves out, nose touching Robert’s.

They stand so close to each other for seconds and seconds.

“You’ve never spoken so much.” Robert whispers, and then Aaron’s shaking his head, telling him to shut up and then they’re kissing.

Aaron wraps a hand around Roberts back and deepens it instantly as he tugs at the older man’s hair and feels him stroke a hand down Aaron’s wait over and over again.

It’s soft, the space between them sparking out energy which they know means only one thing.

Robert says it, has the balls to now apparently.

“I love you.” All heavy, filled with such sincerity. “Have done for - fucking years.” He says nervously, “And I know I hurt you, but I want ya, properly, finally just us. If you’ll have me?”

And it’s music to Aaron’s ears as he sees the Christmas tree in the village flickering gently.

“Have you?” Aaron says nervously, and Robert looks away.

“You’re - you’re with him aren’t ya?” He says, something twisting in his chest as he backs away. “And I’m just messin’ with your head. I’m sorry, I’ll -”

“He’s not the man I’ve loved since I was sixteen.” Aaron stops him. “He’s - he’s not you.” He whispers, and then he’s holding Robert’s face and smiling. “I’ll have you, I’ll have only you.”

And Robert looks like he can’t believe it. “Really?” He asks, and it’s only getting colder but they don’t really care.

“Really really.” Aaron whispers, “Just don’t hurt me again.” He says, because it was awful, because he couldn’t have it happen again.

Robert looks all serious and nods. “Never.” He says, and then he’s biting his lip.

“Stay for Christmas.” Aaron blurts out, can’t help but want it despite the mess he’ll have to deal with when it comes to Ed.

Robert gulps, “Are you sure?” He’s asking.

And Aaron kisses him softly. “I’m sure.” He says, “Just want ya.” He mumbles as Robert holds him against his chest.

“Well I’m here, always have been really.” Robert says, and all Aaron’s Christmases roll into one.

~*~

‘and i’ll be home for christmas’

Aaron nearly burns himself on the oven and jumps back quickly as he feels the impact of the heat against his skin.

He’s a nervous mess of a man and he’s only really blaming one person.

Robert flipping Sugden.

“Oi, chill out will ya.” He hears, turns around and sees Vic holding Jacob in her arms. “You’ll upset the baby.” She’s saying,  "And for absolutely no reason because his dad is coming home for Christmas.“

And he should be, but it’s not that simple.

It never has been has it?

Not when it came to Robert.

They met nearly six whole years ago on a cold November night, Aaron had been out on the town with Adam, mumbled something like 'fuck me’ after nearly being sick in the loos and then there was Robert offering to take him out on a date before they got round to that.

They flirted, and laughed and jumped into bed and -

The rest seemed to be history really.

Aaron likes to think of the good times like that, instead of when he found Robert’s uniform shoved into a battered brown bag the next day and he had to pretend like it didn’t matter.

( "Didn’t I mention that?” Robert had yawned out, “Been in the army since I was nineteen.”

Aaron gulped hard and felt a twist of something inside him, he’d only just spent the night with Robert and yet felt strangely  protective and scared for him.

He pulled himself up on the bed and stared at the man with the blonde hair and the mass of freckles covering his back.

“Oh.” He said, “Sounds dangerous.”

But Robert lit up. “Nah, it’s exciting innit?” He said, “Doing something that actually makes a difference, means something.”

Aaron nodded his head, had a hand placed on Robert’s chest and pressing his finger against the soft skin.

“I take it you’re on leave?” Aaron dared to say, minutes later when Robert was talking about having to get back to his flat.

“Yeah. Two more days.” He said, and Aaron frowned instantly, felt used almost, like a quick fix or something. “You up for me taking you out for some dinner or something tomorrow?”

And Aaron somehow didn’t expect that, had his mouth open a little until Robert smiled at him.

“I don’t usually …” He gulped and shook at his hair. “I get it if you’re not up for anything serious considering I’m -”

“Sounds good.” Aaron said, despite everything inside him saying that this would only end in him crying into the bottom of a pint glass.

Robert looked almost surprised, awkwardly fucking so too and then he nodded. “Good.” He said, picking up his jacket and bag and then sliding on his army hat just to make Aaron laugh.

“See you later then soldier.” Aaron said, like it was just all fun and games, like he wasn’t already imagining Robert dead somewhere.

The door clicked shut and Aaron slammed down on his bed, naked with the sheets barely warming him, hating himself for starting something he knew he already had know control over. )

“Is he though?” Aaron snaps, looks towards Annie who’s twirling around on the spot and wearing her best red sparkly dress for the day. “She doesn’t deserve this.” And it’s true, because she’s only three years old and she deserves to have both her dads with her every night.

Vic bites at her lip and Jacob wriggles in her arms, pulls an arm out and Aaron settles him in his arms.

“And neither does he.” Aaron whispers, looks down at how beautiful their baby boy is and he can’t help but want to cry because everything was so perfect only a few months ago.

Because they were this family and then it all came crashing down around them.

Robert wasn’t meant to leave again, they were meant to be passed the tears and the goodbyes and the crying.

( “I wished you didn’t have to go.” Aaron whispered, and yeah he knew the score. It wasn’t like the first time.

Robert had left after the two days, and he’d somehow managed to find Aaron’s address and write to him, and then they couldn’t stop writing to each other and Aaron was waking up to find Robert on his doorstep three weeks later.

Robert gulped hard and pressed a kiss to Aaron’s head. “Me either.” He said, and Aaron frowned.

“You don’t mean that, you love your job.” And Aaron loved that about Robert, didn’t want to ever take that away from him and be that selfish.

“I don’t want you sad.” He said, all serious suddenly and Aaron felt awful.

Because it was clear that the whole no strings attached thing was long forgotten about, because he’d already told Robert things he shouldn’t have, because he was already in love -

“Don’t worry about me.” Aaron lied. “Go, and make sure to write back okay?”

And just like that, Robert was gone, once again. )

“This wasn’t supposed to happen Vic.” Aaron tells her openly. “He wasn’t meant to miss our boy’s first Christmas. I thought -” he tries to hold back tears. “I thought we were passed that.”

Only, one call managed to make everything miserable again.

( “Well what do you mean you’re being called back?” Aaron’s voice was high, this feeling of dread running through him as he waited for Robert to reply.

Robert, who was bent over the desk with a hand covering his face, a hand fucking trembling.

“Six months, same place as usual.” Robert said coldly after a few seconds had passed.

He tried to leave but Aaron pushed at his chest and frowned. “No!” He screamed, only Annie and Jacob on his mind as he blinked quickly. “You can’t, you - you gave it up.” He told Robert.

Robert looked away, almost ashamed. “There was always a chance I could get called again, I just didn’t want to worry you because it was only a small one and -”

“You let us have kids?” Aaron whispered, face red and tears streaming down his face. “You let - let it happen when you knew -”

And Robert just broke down into this mess and Aaron had to hold him up, let the older man cry into his chest.

“You stupid idiot.” Aaron cried into Robert’s shoulder, hugging him close.

“Don’t leave me.” Robert pleaded. “Please don’t take the kids from me.” He said and Aaron lifted his head, promised that wouldn’t happen.

And the world went quiet for a second. )

“He loves you.” Vic shrugs out, “He never came home before because he didn’t have what he has now.”

Aaron thinks about it for a second whilst he rocks Jacob and then he bites his lip and is hit with a memory.

( “I can’t keep doing this.” Aaron had admitted, five months too late really.

Robert frowned at him, untangled himself from the sheets. “What do you mean?”

And Aaron meant this, Robert going off for weeks on end and them having a single passion filled and desperate fuck and sharing stories and then Robert doing a disappearing act again.

“This.” He said heavily, could barely look at Robert as he spoke. “You know I’ve not slept with anyone else since that first night, with you?”

And Robert looked away, almost like he didn’t want to know, almost like it would mean so much to him.

“Aaron -”

“Because - I don’t want anyone else.” He shrugs. “Just you.”

It was massive to actually say and Aaron thought he’d made a mistake. He knew he had.

All he had to do was look at Robert’s face.

He was just silent, just looking towards the sheets with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Say something.” Aaron begged.

Then Robert looked up, “I told you how it’d be.” He said, “I thought you knew.”

Only, a mumbling of 'it’s not like we’re together’ one night didn’t mean they talked about anything.

Aaron tried to hide his face but failed. “So, you’ve slept with other people?” And Robert’s face gave it away, he hadn’t, he actually hadn’t.

“No.” He said slowly, “I -”

“Haven’t had the time.” Aaron said, more hurtful towards himself than anyone else but that’s what he did.

“No.” He said, looked offended. “I don’t want anyone -”

“You don’t want me.” Aaron said, and then he stood up and shuddered because he hadn’t planned on saying this in his boxers. “And that’s why I can’t stay.”

Robert frowned. “Aaron, wait -”

“I can’t! That’s the problem.” Aaron shouted, didn’t mean to but suddenly he had tears in his eyes and he was bright red.

“Wait for what?” Robert asked and Aaron made the mistake of looking at him. He was all soft skin and blonde hair and freckles and plumped lips and -

“I need to go.” He whispered, dragging his jumper towards him and then gulping hard.

“What can’t you fucking wait -”

“You to realise I’m in love with you!” Aaron shouted, threat almost sore from it and a panic in his eyes.

And everything suddenly hurt because Robert was just looking at him with his mouth wide open.

“I’m - I love you.” Aaron whispered, and then he was running towards the door, running from whatever he thought him and Robert had, could be.

And then Robert was reaching out and pulling at his arm and Aaron was falling onto the bed and Robert was kissing him hard on the lips.

Again and again and again and -

“I love you too.”

Big grin and absolute kid at heart really.

And they laughed about how long they’d felt the way they did all night.

Until Aaron had tears in his eyes and bit his lip, “So now what?”

And neither of them knew the answer. )

Vic comes forward. “He’s got his own family. Why wouldn’t he make it home?”

Aaron just shakes his head and rocks Jacob nervously. “We had a row though.” He admits and Vic closes her eyes slowly.

And it had been an ugly one, all raised voices and hissing down the phone and Aaron hadn’t ever cried like that after he threw the phone against the wall.

( “So what? You can’t come home then?” Aaron snapped, walking down the path in the park with Annie running ahead and Jacob in his pram wailing away. “It’s Jacob’s first -”

“I’m fucking aware of that thanks father of the year.” And it was mean, nasty almost and Aaron was taken aback by it.

But then again Robert always seemed on edge whenever they spoke now.

“Well sorry.” Aaron hissed back, “It’s just hard being here on my own looking after two small kids whilst you -”

“Sip champagne on the Eiffel Tower.”

Annie ran out a little too ahead and Aaron swore before calling her name.

“Is she alright?” Robert asked, voice suddenly softer.

Her blonde hair caught Aaron’s eye and he waved at her to come back before scoffing down the phone. “Like you give a toss.”

And it was a horrible thing to say, but they seemed like they were both up for hurting each other as much as they could.

It was scary, how much they could hurt as well as love each other so deeply.

“Of course I do.” Robert said, voice so heavy and filled with a pain Aaron couldn’t ever understand.

“If you did, you’d be here.” Aaron shouted, “You wouldn’t have left us all, you wouldn’t have been able to.”

There was silence for the longest while before Aaron heard Robert sniffling. “So you’re better off without me then.”

And Aaron, heart hammering in his chest and a harshness in his tongue, couldn’t help but say -

“Yeah. Pretty much.”

Before the line went dead and he was hurling his phone towards the floor and Annie was wiping his tears and telling him that it would be okay. )

“Nothing is going to stop him from coming home for Christmas.” Vic is so adamant and Aaron doesn’t even know what to think of it all.

“And then he’s going to go again.” Aaron whispers, hugs at Jacob a little. “He’s growing so fast and - Robert hasn’t seen him grow up Vic.”

And that hurts so much, must haunt Robert daily.

Because he wanted kids, Aaron was scared of the idea but it was Robert who said it all.

( Robert was home for good, or so Aaron thought.

And they were laying on Aaron’s sofa, watching shitty television and eating popcorn.

Robert was looking at Aaron all funny and suddenly just blurted it out.

“Can we have kids?”

And Aaron was stunned into this awkward smile.

“Don’t think biologically it’s really possible but -”

Sweaty palms and all that, Robert grabbed at Aaron’s hands. “I’m serious.”

And it had come out to nowhere really yet seemed a logical step in the Adult World.

They’d had the most dysfunctional wedding, Robert nearly dying and Aaron marrying him at his bedside and Vic crying the whole way through that and then their summer blessing too.

“You are aren’t you?” Aaron said, met with sudden realisation as Robert nodded. “I’d be a shit dad Rob.”

And Robert just kissed him. “I don’t want to have kids with anyone else in the world.” He said, stroking Aaron’s hair. “You’ll be - fucking legendary.”

Aaron’s eyes flickered and his stomach flipped.

He’d seen a future with Robert, kids and all that, never thought it could actually happen.

“So will you.” Aaron told him, and it meant a yes, and then they got down to 'baby making’ all night. )

Vic places a hand on Aaron’s and smiles. “I promise you, he’ll be here in time for Christmas dinner tomorrow.”

Only, the time it rolled round Robert was still a no show.

Annie had ripped through all her presents and was wearing another one of her beautiful dresses and was full of questions about where daddy was.

“He’s - he’s helping people again, remember?” Aaron tells her, rocks Jacob in his arms as he kisses her head.

She pouts. “Can’t he stop helping them for just a little while.”

Aaron smiles sadly at her. “I wish he could.” He says, “But he’s too much of a good man.”

And that’s what it comes down too.

It makes Aaron have a little cry in the corner whilst he deals with the gravy and hears Vic and his mum help the kids pull the crackers.

'He should be here.

It’s what his mind is screaming and then his phone is vibrating and it’s Robert.

“Hello?” Aaron’s breathing out quickly, they haven’t spoke to each other since they argued and Robert blows out a soft breath.

“It’s so good to hear your voice, do you know that?” Robert says, and he sounds like he’s trying not to cry. “I’m sorry for how horrible I was before - I didn’t - I didn’t mean it.”

And Aaron knows he didn’t. “Me too.” He whispers, “Rob -”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come.” Robert tells him, and Aaron looks towards a picture of him and Robert and Annie and Jacob, all smiles.

It makes him mourn what could have been.

“I know you are.” Aaron whispers hollowly.

“I got something though, look outside.” Robert’s saying, and Aaron frowns before shuffling towards the door.

At first he can’t see anything other than darkness, but then he’s blinking quicker and -

Robert’s standing there in his uniform, a mistletoe over his head and his nose all pink from the cold.

“Alright smiler?” He says and Aaron’s reminded of this ancient nickname he had and -

It takes seconds for Aaron to jump on Robert and wrap his arms around him.

He’s a mess of emotions, crying his eyes out as Robert holds his head and strokes.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.” Aaron tells him, kisses at his lips before pulling away and wiping the tears away from Robert’s face. “You came back?”

Robert nods, tugs at Aaron’s waist. “As if I could stay away.” He says, “Merry Christmas Mr Sugden.” He teases and Aaron kisses him hard before Annie’s pulling the door open and Robert drops to his knees.

She’s running into his arms and screaming about him being home and Vic starts crying near the door too.

“Daddy! Daddy giant! Daddy’s here!” And Aaron’s eyes flutter lovingly before Robert kisses her head.

“I’ve missed you more than you’ll ever know my beautiful girl.” He says, fresh tears falling.

And then Aaron’s passing Jacob over to him and Robert shudders.

“He’s got bigger.” He whispers, strokes at his son’s nose and smiles. “Oh my boy.” He hugs at his little body and Jacob starts gurgling like he’s having a catch up with his father.

And it’s so soft, it’s almost achingly beautiful.

::

“I’m not going back.” Robert tells Aaron, fire burning against the logs in the living room, Christmas dinner long forgotten and the kids asleep over them.

Aaron frowns. “But you said -”

“Six months yeah but -” Robert shrugs. “You’re my family, you’re the only thing that matters to me.” He says, presses his forehead against Aaron’s. “You’re my husband and I let you down.” And Aaron can see him welling up, because it’s so easy for Robert to hate himself.

Aaron shakes his head, “Oi, don’t get upset. Please Rob.”

Robert blows out a breath. “I’m officially retired from the force.” He says, pulls out some crumbled official document which Aaron wants to frame.

He’s waited so long to see it. He’s waited so so long.

“You’re ours now, fully, forever.” Aaron whispers, looks towards a sleepy Annie and Jacob.

Robert looks fucking thrilled by the prospect. “Yours. Forever, I promise.” He tells his husband before holding his hand and resting his head against his shoulder lovingly. “Didn’t even get him a present.” He tuts, “I’m sorry.”

Aaron laughs, all warm and filled with a softness he didn’t know he still had in him.

“What?” Robert asks, suddenly confused.

“You’re here and you’re staying.” He says, “Best present I could ask for Mr Dingle.” He’s got tears in his eyes and he smiles.

Robert kisses him gently. “My present is years and years of boring normality husband dearest.” He says and Aaron looks at the mounds of tinsel and presents and the way Jacob’s little finger is firm around Robert’s pinky and -

“I could get used to that.”

‘and with love in my heart, snow falling gently, and you next to me -

it’s a very merry christmas my love, for now and eternity.’

[hmstarrynight]

Present for @quietaria from @fandomfanficsgalore

My giftee requested something with Kyle and Barrett, so here’s so fluff! :) Merry Christmas!!

–

“I think it’s… cute.”

“….Cute?”

“Okay. Adorable.”

“…Shut up.”

Kyle tossed his head back and laughed, relishing in the rare pink flush across Barrett’s cheeks. They marched together through the snow on their way to the church, where Doug and Gordon were throwing the annual Christmas party. They were going to be late because of a certain spat between them—mostly centered around the bright red and white hat that sat atop Barrett’s frosted hair.

Kyle grinned, and Barrett gave him a light glare. The former squeezed the man’s arm.

“Thank you for wearing it,” he said genuinely, his cheeks red from the cold and from laughter. The snow refused to keep coming, piling inches further up their ankles as they walked.

Barrett sighed, his breath forming a white cloud of steam, and his gloved hand found Kyle’s.

“Whatever. You’re lucky I like you.”

Kyle laughed again, and he didn’t miss the small flicker of Barrett’s lips.

When they arrived, Barrett shoved the door open without knocking and the two practically fell through, pink-cheeked and shivering. Warmth flooded from inside and cheers erupted. Mana swept forward, helping them out of their coats white Jake closed the door behind them with a grumble.

Once Kyle began to thaw and move freely, he was swept up by the others, handed eggnog and wrapped in warm, enthusiastic hugs. Music filled the air and Tanya was already glazed-eyed from drinking. Cami and Roy ran about, both dressed like elves, while Doug and Gordon laughed at them.

After about an hour, Kyle glanced around, spotting a familiar red Santa hat through the crowd, and almost burst into laughter.

Barrett stood off to the side, clutching an eggnog cup and talking politely with Jake, the silly hat still perched dutifully on his head.

Kyle grinned and weaved his way through the crowd. Barrett spotted him and welcomed Kyle’s hand in his own.

“Hey, Jake,” Kyle greeted.

“Human,” Jake muttered pleasantly, taking a sip from his eggnog, which judging from the redness of his cheeks and the burn in Kyle’s own belly, he was beginning to suspect was spiked.

Kyle turned to Barrett with a smile.

“Are you guys having fun?” he murmured.

“Better now,” Barrett stated, squeezing his fingers. Kyle’s smile widened.

Ceci appeared then, her eyes lighting on Jake. She looked gorgeous as always, her fiery hair pulled back from her face and her lips painted red.

“Jake, come on! Let’s dance!”

Before he could protest, she grabbed his wrist and yanked him away into the crowd.

Kyle laughed after them, feeling Barrett’s eyes. He turned to meet them, his eyes dancing.

“Yes?” Kyle asked innocently.

Barrett observed them.

“You’re drunk.”

Kyle giggled.

“Not drunk. Tipsy.” Kyle tugged on his hand. “Dance with me?”

Barrett hesitated, and Kyle began to frown before Barrett nodded and set his and Kyle’s drink aside. Kyle beamed as Barrett lead him over to the other dancing couples and drew him into his arms. Kyle placed a hand on Barrett’s shoulder, blushing when the man’s warm hand rested on his lower back. They began to sway to a sappy Christmas song, and Kyle once again giggled.

Barrett sent him a questioning look.

“You just look so… festive.”

Barrett’s eyes turned hard and he raised a hand, as if to snatch the hat off. Kyle caught his arm with a yelp.

“No, please, keep it! I love it.”

Barrett reluctantly agreed.

“You’re lucky I like you,” he repeated.

Kyle giggled.

On the way home, it was even colder than before. Gordon tried to convince them to stay, but Barrett assured him that they would be alright. Kyle was more than tipsy at this point, and he stumbled along in the snow, shivering from where he was tucked into Barrett’s side.

“So much fun,” Kyle slurred, “You look so cute.”

He giggled. Barrett shook his head, but didn’t answer.

They finally made it home, and Kyle waggled his eyebrows as Barrett undressed him. To his amusement, Barrett managed to keep a straight face the entire time, and once the fire was started and they were both in their pajamas, Barrett slid into bed next to him. Kyle immediately curled up into the other man, and Barrett wrapped an arm around the farmer’s tan shoulders. Kyle’s lips pressed against Barrett’s collarbone as his eyelids dropped, burrowing into the familiar warmth of the man’s body.

“Thank you,” Kyle murmured.

Barrett pressed a kiss to his forehead and Kyle’s eyes fell shut.

“You’re just lucky I love you, Kyle.”

Kyle grinned, relaxing before he finally fell asleep.

“I know.”

[thisisheffner]

MEREDITH MUSIC FESTIVAL 2019

Don’t Ever Doubt Aunty, She Knows How To Throw A Party

Words: Bec Grech and Sally Lewis Photos: Chelsea King

This is Bec’s fourth and Sal’s first Meredith Music Festival. Here is who and what they saw during a wonderfully wacky weekend at the coveted Supernatural Amphitheatre. 

FRIDAY

Cleansing smoke from the smoking ceremony filled the Supernatural Amphitheatre, signalling the start of Meredith Music Festival in its 29th edition, held on the land of the Wadawurrung. In a MMF first, Uncle Barry Gilson along with other traditional custodians of the land performed a beautiful Welcome To Country. Stories, singing and dancing. In a minutes silence, the Sup’ stood in solidarity to pay respect to their recently lost Elder, Aunty Mary. Thank you Uncle Barry and the Wadawurrung people for sharing your stunning land with us for the weekend and welcoming us all with open hearts. 

Photo: Meredith punters walking through the Smoking Ceremony held by Wadawurrung people, the traditional custodians of the land on which Meredith takes place.

Jesswar opened the festival with an explosive, tough as nails performance. Her hard-going hip hop had all the bad bitches move to the front. And move to the front, we did.

Karate Boogaloo, the funky and oh-so funny four-piece served up a set of their finest and fruitiest jams. Sweet, sticky, ooey-gooey goodness. Kay-Bee’s unconventional funk and fusions of psych and RnB, had the Sup’ swaying and smiling ear-to-ear. Carn the Boogers! 

With housekeeping out of the way (courtesy of FEE B2 and Shania Twain), Julia Jacklin instantly warmed and wowed the crowd. Equally composed and expressive, Jacklin’s voice has the power to deliver a performance that can be simply summarised as, stunning. Singalongs to ‘Pressure To Party’, ‘Don’t Know How To Keep Loving You’ and ‘Pool Party’ had our hands to our hearts. 

Aunty Meredith, thank you for putting together a lineup with set times that allow us to jump from the dreamy, indie pop of Julia Jacklin to the electric rockabilly of Tokyo’s Stompin’ Riffraffs. Seriously, the screams, the masks, the blazing theremin solos. Unreal. Check them out. 

I was quite perplexed by the disregard of Meredith’s ‘No Dickhead Policy’ when Liam Gallagher was announced as a headliner… After a couple of tracks I swapped out his set for some downtime at the Ecoplex Cinema and was witness to an odd Christmas movie where Santa hosted an international kindergarten rock eisteddfod inside a grand organ, then proceeded to invade an innocent child’s dreams that were influenced by Satan. I was happy with my decision, but hey, I’m sure most people in the Sup’ were having the time of their lives, and that’s great too. I stayed for the Friday night headliner and the set was, strange? With two decent enough albums behind him, Liam Gallagher surprisingly leaned heavy on the Oasis classics but not the ones I was expecting. ‘Wonderwall’ of course came out, as did ‘Cigarettes And Alcohol’, ‘Rock N Roll Star’ and ‘Stand By Me’, but Gallagher chose to skip over a huge mix of mega hits. Admittedly I may have fallen asleep in the deep comforts of a cosy couch as Gallagher played, but I suppose there’s something cool about being woken up to a crowd of festival goers singing along to some iconic 90s Brit-pop. Special mention to the unaware punter yelling “play Wonderwall!” as Gallagher and his band were belting out that man’s very request right in front of him. “Who are you looking forward to seeing at Meredith?” they all asked. My instant reply, “Close Counters”. The Tasmanian duo played their biggest crowd to date and utilised their deep synths and drilling basslines to get the Friday night party started with their crazy good fusion of house, jazz and soul. Mmmm Moog synths rule. Elle Shimada also made an appearance to slay the violin, as well as Francesca Gonzales who leant her vocals.

Logic1000 whose debut EP dropped only weeks before our supernatural adventures carried us into the early morning, floating between deep house and ambient electronic moments. Oops! Bed time for me. Closing out the night was Vanessa Worm. I was meters away from my tent when Vanessa’s wacky vocals permeated through the campsite. It sounded too good to be true, and impossible to miss. I made the trip back to the dance floor to witness her set in the flesh. Gritty electronic beats provided a background to some incredibly silly vocal stylings that appeared to be emanating from a puppet who had gained awareness of it’s strings and was making every attempt to rid itself of it’s puppet master. They definitely expelled some of their inner demons. Fantastic, I wanted to put my boot up but held onto it for some strange reason, which I have now come to regret. 

“Time for you to be still” – listening to Vanessa Worm, I hit the hay too.

SATURDAY

Scott and Charlene’s Wedding was the most wonderful soundtrack to waiting in line for coffee. A very blissful morning indeed.

U-Bahn was up next and boy, not only did they look good (hats off to outfit coordination and killer eye makeup) they sounded bloody brilliant. Having caught these synth-punks around Melbourne town a few times previously, their moment on the Sup’ stage may just be my favourite performance of theirs yet. 

“Where are you camping?” is apparently every third question asked at Meredith, so for the sake of this article.. I ran back to our castle/camp at Bluegums to refuel and unfortunately missed seeing River Yarra, but thanks to there only being one super loud stage, I was able to listen to their pops of percussion fuelled, experimental electronica. Wobbly, wonky, I liked what I heard.

Cate Le Bon on a sweet Saturday afternoon was sublime. Uniquely impassive in their own kooky fashion, Le Bon and her band in their performance slip in twinkles of magic and stubborn eccentrics. It was truly dazzling and full of heart. Plenty of boots up in the air for this set.

It seemed like the entire festival flooded the amphitheatre for DJ Koze on Saturday afternoon. An incredible turn out for a last minute addition to the lineup. Koze must have raided the local Meredith nursery, going full bush on the set design – it looked and sounded amazing. Potentially the crowd favourite? Sally, please blast ‘Pick Up’ as you scatter my ashes through a forest somewhere. 

Can do! Bec and I both gave our boot to the German DJ, as we boogied our bums off to Koze’s impeccable selection of beats and bangers. I’m having flashbacks. Might go cry to the memories of Meredith right now… 

Following Koze’s wild hour and a half were some marvellous afro house beats, courtesy of Digital Afrika. I didn’t realise just how much dancing could be squeezed into one afternoon. The Eqyptian Lover then whipped the crowd into a frenzy with their powerful stage antics. Forcing the crowd to scream “eight oh, motha effin, eight”. They proceeded to play nothing but that drum machine for fifteen minutes straight while thousands of smiling faces ferociously shook their booties. 

I was also one of those booty shakers and I aspire to dance as The Egyptian Lover dances… He’s got the moves I tell ya. *Flicks hands left and right*. Viagra Boys. WOW. The five-piece punkers from Stockholm, Sweden, had everyone in the palms of their hands as they bashed through their catalogue of witty post-punk belters. Frontman Sebastian Murphy is a crazy character, he threw himself around the crowd and all about the stage as he sang and shouted his lampoons on life. Push ups into a microphone as he yelled “sports!” during the ‘Sports’ outro, very, very impressive. Special shoutout to the saxophonist of the band who bloody slayed that thing all set long. I admire a punk band who indulge in using bongos. Absolutely wild times. I may have given DJ Koze my boot but Viagra Boys have my heart.

Photo: Viagra Boys frontman Sebastian Murphy singing into the front row of people. 

Dead Prez were up next, who blew us all out of the park. Gangsta Brooklyn political-rap pairs very nicely with samples of Red Hot Chili Peppers and Pink Floyd.

Amyl and the Sniffers came in stinkin’ hot (and slightly late) with an ARIA tucked under their mullets. Two years ago the local punks opened Meredith on Friday night. This year they cut loose during a headline time slot. My. Oh. My. They delivered. A set equally as punchy and wild as it was wholesome. In between heavy breaths the band made it pretty clear how special it was for them to be playing another Meredith. Props to Amy for creating a safe space in the mosh for everybody except creeps. She is a force to be reckoned with. Footage of buff kangaroos fighting while Amy sung “I wanna be your little angel” along with a live Chat Roulette video stream displayed throughout the set, sent me (and I’m sure many others) into fits of laughter. The joy of short and sharp punk songs is that nearly every single Amyl and the Sniffers hit can be squeezed into a 45 minute set; ‘70 Street Munchies’, ‘I’m Not A Loser’, ‘Monsoon Rock’, ‘Gacked On Anger’, ‘Cup Of Destiny’. All killer no filler.

Photo: Amy Taylor of Amyl and The Sniffers on stage during their Saturday night headline slot.

Irish alt-pop/disco sensation Roisin Murphy who you’d recognise from Moloko (‘Sing It Back’) blew us away with an impeccably controlled vocal delivery and performance. It was a real treat to see her delve into the sonic world of her solo endeavours – swaying between chiming, glittery, lush synths and the squelchier sounds of ‘Overpowered’. Upwards of 4 costume changes? What a party. There was also some kind of silver alien that Murphy hugged and danced with. It was confusing but I loved it. After that, I only remember dancing. 

Two hours of solid dancing to incredible house followed, soundtracked by Eric Powell. Thank you. Just, thank you. German producer and DJ Helena Hauff, whose appearance at Meredith had been years in the works, mixed the entirety of their set on vinyl. Starting dark and brooding, we were quickly plunged into dark, fast and heavy selections accompanied by intensely curated visuals. “Are you ready to RAMBL?!” … No, I’m so sorry but by body can’t do it. Dancing for upwards of 15 hours had me beat. I did however enjoy the local DJ’s diverse mixes of house, disco, funk and techno from the comforts of my tent AND as I woke back up at 7am for a cheeky run to the loo. There was no better way to wake up Sunday morning than with another lil’ dance.

SUNDAY

We all rolled out of our tents slowly late Sunday morning with sore heads, full hearts, and dropped jaws, recovering from the breathtaking talent that graced the Amphitheatre the night before and we headed down to catch Gordon Koang. As much as he insisted he loved the crowd very much, I think we loved him more. Koang had the amphitheatre standing up and clapping their hands (despite how rough we all undoubtedly were feeling at this point in the weekend) before he even played ‘Stand Up (Clap Your Hands)’ which on stage featured a string of the cutest dancers possible. Two disco ball headed dancers also joined the party on stage and now I need a disco ball head toot sweet. 

I’m not going to lie, I had no idea what The Gift was. I didn’t even think to ask. Holy. Moly. Not only is the Sup’ the perfect place to let your hair down but also, your pants. Nude racing around the Amphitheatre by those with brave souls and bare bums. Meredith truly is a magical place. Speaking of…

MAGICAL MOMENTS

Interstitial DJs – the unsung heroes of the dancefloor. Adriana selects the most wonderful international boogie gems and only FEE B2 can get away with mixing ‘Come on Eileen’, into drum and bass, into disco.

The People – Ingrained in its philosophy, everyone is welcome at MMF. With open arms Aunty Meredith and the Wadawurrung people allow festival goers to indulge themselves in music, art and community. The people at MMF are united bunch of loose bananas who have the best fun, and who importantly look after each other while doing so. No dickheads. No worries. 

The amount of ‘overheards’ and ‘seen ats’ could be endless. I loved seeing the endless array of dolled up punters and groups of friends in highly coordinated outfits; women in 80s business attire passing around a cheese board in the midst of a Swedish punk set, a crew dressed in life jackets and helmets carrying their mate on an inflatable raft who paddled and parted the Sup’ like the sea, netballers, cricketers, flight attendants, birds, disco dancers, you name it and someone was probably dressed like it at Meredith. The Return of Doof Sticks – This year the doof sticky things were removed from the banned items list (as long as their heads were no larger than that of a cauliflower). They lined the Sup’s horizon to make a spectacle of lights and crafty work. Even some cauliflowers on sticks were spotted. The Boot – My first time at Meredith, I was relieved and heart-warmed by the concept of giving an act your boot/shoe. Thankfully not a suggestion of a shoey, but an act of admiration. 

Cricket – Who doesn’t love an impromptu game of bat n’ ball in the rise of the Sup’? Meredith is the only place the police and punters sporting ‘eff the police’ shirts can come together for an over. Couches – How have I survived past music festivals without one? A place to chill out and enjoy the music from afar, or dance on top of, or start a party at, or make as a meeting point. Genius. Also, I hope the guy we found asleep on our couch Sunday morning is doing fine and found his friend Sarah.

FINAL THOUGHTS

Despite comments in the lead up that MMF 2019’s lineup wasn’t as strong as previous years (which we never once bought into) and the ticket swapping page being swamped with heavily discounted tickets – it is pretty damn clear by the success of the weekend that; 1) don’t ever doubt Aunty, 2) She knows how to throw a party, and 3) those who sold their tickets missed out on a stellar weekend. During every set there were boots being held up left right and center. With every twist and turn someone beside you was having the time of their life.The Supernatural Amphitheatre is without a doubt the most magical place for live music in Australia.

Thank you Aunty Meredith. Thank you to the Wadawurrung people for sharing your land. Thank you to the lovely friends we met and made. We are already counting down the days ‘til Golden Plains.

The post MEREDITH MUSIC FESTIVAL 2019 appeared first on SYN Media.

This content was originally published here.

[japanheart88-blog]

Elf'd Up

We welcomed our mischievous little elf into our home about 6 years ago.  Over the last six years, I've realized this little trickster sure is the cause for quite a bit of controversy. 

You either:

A)  Hate the elf and keep him far away from you and your family.

B)  Think he's too creepy for Christmas

C) Feel like it's cruel to tell your kids the elf is watching them I mean, after all, they should want to behave on their own merit, right?!  If you're using him as leverage, you're doing something wrong as a parent, right?!

D)  Want to punch all the "bored moms with nothing better to do" in the throat for going to such elaborate lengths to position the elf in such ways that make you feel like a slacker

E) Have feelings about the elf that can only be explained through expletives

F) Love the idea, but not the trickery...ain't nobdy got time to stage the elf and pick up his mess 

OR...

G)  You're all about getting elf'd up...bring on the creepy faced little nugget and all his elf'in shenanigans :)

Let me just tell you that I've pretty much experienced all of the above.  

For the last few years, I fall into category G.  I am that "bored" mom with "nothing better to do" than place my little elf into mischievous situations every (ahem...ALMOST every) night before I go to bed.  

And I do it for two simple reasons...

These two :)

They get SUCH a kick out of the elf.  They anxiously wake up every morning and scour the house for his hiding places.  They can't wait to see what crazy thing he does next.  Sometimes our elf doesn't move and the boys typically assume he's too tired to fly.  We try not to make a huge deal about it.  Our elf is for FUN.  He's become one of our favorite Christmas "traditions" can I count him as a tradition?!?!?  

He doesn't go back to Santa and report...he just flies back to the North Pole to rest and give Santa hugs, drink syrup, and play reindeer games.  And when the holiday crazies set in, I'm not ashamed to admit that I use him as leverage..."do y'all think y'all should do that?!  Y'all don't want Elfabet to tell Santa tonight, do you?!" ...but those times are few and far between.  Not because they're angels...lawd, no.  But we've always wanted him to be just something fun...and magical... for the boys.  He really does make our holidays extra magical.  Just one of the fun little things for my boys to add to their Christmas memories :)

Our elf's name is ELFABET.  My oldest named him when he first arrived at our house.  That's a teacher's kid for ya ;)  Here are a few things he's done over the years.  Maybe he'll give you some new ideas?!?!  Or prove how bored I really am?!?!  Or maybe you just want to punch him in the throat.  

Elfabet arrives every December 1st and brings the boys breakfast, random trinkets, and pajamas straight from the North Pole (aka:  North Pole Breakfast). 

You can check out this years breakfast HERE.

Below are the elf ideas I shared with you last year, but before you get to those I wanted to share what he's been up to in the few days he's been here this year :)

Snap, crackle.....ELF?!  (I found this one to be particulary creepy, but funny nonetheless)

A little game of Pie Face for the win.  I used Cortizone cream for the whipped cream so that I wouldn't wake up to a milky mess come morning.  The boys always wake up before we do and there's no way I was going to wake up early to stage this one. 

It took the boys forever to find the elf in the fridge.  In fact, they woke up at 6:30, scoured the house, and said they figured he was too tired to fly back to our house so they gave up.  It wasn't until we woke up and went to the fridge for breakfast stuff that we alerted them to his hiding spot.  Haha.

And yes...Elfabet needs a bath.  In a bad, bad way.  How disgustingly dirty is his hat?!  Gross.

This right here is the boy's all time favorite .  They still talk about it to this day!

Elfabet got a hold of my phone and went around the house snapping elfie selfies with all of us sleeping.  He left the boys a note  (and some cookies) telling them to look through the camera roll.  If you could've heard their laughs this morning, ohmiword.  Best alarm ever.    They were in hysterics!  He even changed the wallpaper on my phone!  Sneaky son of a gun.  

This is what he got into last year that had the boys in stitches...

Left to right:

He packed the boys a nutritious lunch full of syrup, chocolate syrup, icing, sprinkles, and junk food.  All the essentials for a delicious meal.  And one night he couldn't quite make it to the bathroom in time so he left a little mess on our coffee table.  SO disgusting and so hilarious all in the same breath.  I live in a house full of boys and the potty humor even makes me laugh :) 

And finally there was one night he decided to help himself to some cookies, but he realized how awful those tasted and left a note for the boys letting them know he didn't like them at all.  Silly Elfabet!  Dog biscuits are for DOGS!!  Hahahaha

1.  Elfabet always arrives with a North Pole breakfast.  He brings Christmas socks, Christmas jammies, a Christmas book, and a Christmas movie.  And candy canes, too :)  The menu always consists of hot chocolate and snow covered donuts.

2.  He got into mommy's jingle juice.

3.  Drinking syrup in the pantry...after all, it's one of the 4 main food groups :)

4.  He turned the milk green...and my husband refused to drink it (and we wonder why my oldest is so picky?!?! ;))

5.  He rode a reindeer into town and didn't want to get off.

6.  He loves sugar and processed food as much as we do!

7.  Bless.  He's stuck outside!!!

8.  Reading to his Smurfs.  Smart little fella.

9.  He strung a clothesline from the Christmas tree to the drapes.   Then he hung up the boys underwear and himself...upside down!  This was one of their favorites!

10.  Drawing a picture of he and the boys.  Ha.

11.  Drawing faces on the boys in their Santa picture.  This is the one that scarred my youngest...FREAKED him right the heck out.  He pretty much screamed...then cried...and the picture came down.  This is when I was feeling like option E above.

12.  Wrapped the tree with toilet paper.  I felt like option F and decided this wouldn't be something we do again...once was enough :)

13.  Elfabet is a big fan of The Office, so he made himself a bowl of marshmallows and some hot cocoa while he watched.

14.  "The best way to spread Christmas cheer is singing loud for all to hear."...singing while wrapped up in Christmas sheet music.  See what I did there?!

15.  Taking a bath in a sink full of marshmallows.  When I woke up, my boys were helping themselves to a few for breakfast.

16.  Stuck under a glass in our cabinets.  He stayed there for a couple of days.

17.  The boys were worried he wouldn't follow us to Indiana for Christmas, so he wrote them a letter telling them he'd be there.  Reassurance :)

18.  Another ride on the reindeer...he likes riding in style.

19.  Watching "Elf" under the covers :)

20.  He got into the leftover Halloween candy...and then we had to throw it all away thanks, Elfabet!

21.  He made a shoe mountain and climbed to the top.

22.  Fishing for goldfish in the potty.  With a candy cane.  Landon's personal favorite.

23.  Made himself a little TP hammock in between the boys' stockings.

24.  Coloring a little something special for the boys.

25.  It was a particularly rough day at school for me, so Elfabet hopped in a cop car and pulled over a school bus :)

26.  Even Elfabet knows the real reason for the season.  He stayed here for a few days, too.

27.  A marshmallow message to remind the boys why we celebrate Christmas.

28. Ziplining on tulle right for the tree.

29.  He hung the boys undies on the tree.  They laughed like crazy, and then they were all, "are you gonna take those down before people come over?!?!?!"  Ha.

30.  He was tired of coming up with ideas, so he hung upside down from the chandelier.

31.  Telling Santa what the boys want for Christmas.

32.  He hung the boys Christmas pajama pants from the stocking holders.  This was the year the boys would walk by the display and run their hands along the pants.  Then the stocking holders fell over and all broke.  That was a last for that idea. feeling like option E again...dang elf!!!!

33.  Okay.  This one was a family favorite.  We all laughed pretty hard.  Elfabet stuffed himself inside of a roll of toilet paper and rolled down the stairs.  Hahahaha.

34.  He set out the M&M's for our Christmas cookies and decided to eat a few, too.

35.  See boys, it IS cool to do chores!!!!!  However, please don't use Soft Scrub on my mirrors.

35.  A little Christmas camouflage.

36.  Reading under the Christmas tree.  We recycled quite  few ideas :)

37.  Sack races with the other stuffed animals!

38.  I don't even know where to go with this one.  Mr. SPouse was all, "why would a Purdue guy do that to Elfabet???"  Ha.

39.  Instead of hanging from the chandelier, he hung from a wreath and dropped down a line of candy canes.  

40.  A little underwear swingin' next to the Christmas cards.

41.  Elfabet likes chalk art, too!

If these ideas are lame, head on over to my Elf'd Up Pinterest board and see what I've been pinning over there!  A few new...and pretty darn funny...ideas!!  

Source: http://pearls-handcuffs-happyhour.blogspot.com/2016/12/elfd-up.html