#like okay then scrooge (love you mum!!!!)

[okifyouinsist]

saying merry christmas eve to everyone who crosses my path without a single christian bone in my body i love my life

[seriesxwriting]

Merry scroogemas

Paring- Rafe Cameron X kook reader

Series- Outer banks

Summary- You hate Christmas with everything in you but Rafe try’s to change that.

Warnings- Kissing.

Requests are open :)

Obviously- like usual my Christmas post is posted after Christmas…!

December the 1st

"How excited are you then?" Rafe came and sat down on my bed. I turned my phone off and rolled my head over to look at him. "It's December the first- it's about to be our first Christmas together- to be honest I thought you'd already have your tree up" he laughed but soon lost it once he saw my face. "What's wrong..." he asked me putting his hand out to pull me up. I sat up and shuffled closer to him, trying to figure out what to reply with.

"Rafe- I don't like Christmas" I told him avoiding eye contact at all costs. "Okay scrooge" he chuckled thinking I was joking. "it's my least favourite time of the year" I shrugged my shoulders looking up at him now, so he knew I was being serious. "You're being serious- nobody hates Christmas?" "I do..." I told him pulling back a little now. I know it was a very unpopular opinion- but it was my opinion.

"Come back" he wrapped an arm around my shoulders pulling me closer to him. "Can I ask why?" he whispered seeing that it was clearly effecting me. "That depends- if you wanna get deep or not" I shrugged my shoulders at my boyfriend. "Only with you my love" he nodded his head keenly and then laid a soft kiss on my forehead in comfort. "Well- my parents would often be so busy that Christmas was never a family thing, when I was little I went to a boarding school and- they never came and collected me on holidays" I began explaining.

Rafe never took his eye off me, he made it obvious he was taking note of everything I said. "When I reached upper school they took me out of my boarding school and sent me to our school- but nothing changed..." my eyes began to start filling up with salty tears. "They were always on long business trips over Christmas, and because i'm an only child I ended up being alone again- just in the house this time" I shrugged trying to shake off the tears. "Oh y/n" Rafe whispered closing his eyes.

'"Last year- my mum was at home for Christmas- dad had flown to Brazil for businness- I thought it was going to be different- but she didn't leave her office more than twice the whole day". "I'm so sorry- I had no idea..." he told me looking sad himself now. "No one does- no one knows- don't get me wrong my parents didn't do it because they don't love me- they just think that me having the material presents they get me is what Christmas is about, they didn't have presents when they were younger because they grew up on the cut" I replied to him.

"Have you ever spoken to them about it?" Rafe questioned but that just made me giggle. "Rafe suggesting communication? what have I turned you into" "I don't know- i'm shocked too to be honest" he joined in with my laughter. "But no- I haven't- money changed them they are very materialistic, their life is their work and nothing I say is going to change that". "I think I might need a strong drink after that, because you've just shattered my heart" "Oh Rafe" I sighed smiling.

"Ive grown very used to it" "You know you're making it worse don't you?" he swept his hand under my arms and pulled me against his body into a hug. "What's happening this year?" he whispered in my ear while holding me tight. "My dads already on a two month business trip and mum leaves on the 16th and comes back on new years" I told him, and then held my breath waiting for the sympathy about how pathetic it was to roll in.

"Then my house is your home from the 16th until new years" Rafe called out making me jerk away from him so I could see his expression. “No- Rafe I cannot impose like and especially not on Christmas” I shook my head vigorously. “Oh come on you’re not imposing y/n you’re family and family are supposed to be together on Christmas” he replied making his face go soft.

“Rafe- I don’t like Christmas- I’ll just bring the spirit down” I answered him sadly. “You light rooms up- you could never bring anything down”. I blushed under his gaze but still wasn’t sure. “I won’t enjoy the day knowing you’re home on your own” “but Rafe you don’t understand- I’m used to it it doesn’t effect me now- I like being on my own because I don’t like Christmas” I explained to him slowly so that he’d understand how serious I was.

“Will you think about it?” He turned his head and put it on his shoulder. “Yeah alright” I nodded giving him a weak smile. “Thank you” he whispered leaning in and kissing me gently. “I love you” rage murmured against my lips. “Not as much as I love you” I returned giving him a peck on the lips.

December the 3rd

“Hello handsome” I smiled as I opened the door. He stood there with a giant smile across his face as if he was plotting something. “Hello my love, you ready?” “Where are you taking me Rafe cameron?” I smirked stepping down onto my front door step to join him. Rafe embraced me and kissed my forehead. I loved how affectionate he’d been with me lately. It took him a while to come out of his shell but now he was always touching me.

“It’s a surprise, come on” he smiled taking my hand in his and leading me to his car. It was pretty dark now and Rafe had told me he had plans for us. But what possible plans could he have for us at 8pm on a Monday. He closed my door for me and then got into the drivers seat. As he began driving he asked me about my day and I asked him about his.

I hadn’t seen him since his offer to spend Christmas at his. We’d both been busy seeing friends and doing work. I enjoyed talking to him but I was also watching the road to see where he was taking us. But it seemed to be into town. Rafe parked in one of the car parks, it was rammed with people and cars. “I wonder why it’s so busy tonight?” I looked at him as we both climbed out the car.

“It’s a mystery” Rafe wiggled his eyebrows, I gave him a funny look wondering what he was up to. “Come here” he put his hand out and I clasped his one as we made our way into town. “It’s packed” I muttered looking around. “There’s top” I pointed through the mass of people. “Oh yeah” Rafe smiled seeing his friend, but he just squeezed my hand and we walked past the group of boys.

“Did you not wanna say hello?” I questioned confused for a second. “No my love, I’m here with you my attention is on you” he told me smiling down at me. “What’s the time?” Rafe asked me, distracting me from blushing. “Erm, twenty past eight” I told him looking at my watch. “Perfect, we made good timing”. “What time do we need to be there for?” “Starts at half eight” Rafe replied as we weaved through the crowds.

As we came to the main square a huge Christmas tree stood, it was unlit but there were loads of people crowed round it. “Rafe” I looked up at him with a raised eyebrow knowing what was going on now. “Yes gorgeous” he answered catching onto my tone. “Is today what I think it is?” I questioned as we came to a stop. “Depends what you think it is” he smirked knowing I knew what we were up to now.

“It’s the Christmas switch on huh”, Rafe chuckled nodding his head and pulling me close to his body. “Yes- I thought it might get you a little more spirited” “I see the Christmas lights every year Rafe, they’re always the same”. Rafe let out a little laugh again “well they might be a little different this year” “I can’t bet you fifty quid they won’t be” I sang back to him. Rafe put his arm round my shoulders and turned us towards the tree.

Soon everyone began counting down Rafe joined in with a huge grin on his face. I felt a wave of sadness that I didn’t feel the same excitement about the season. I felt like I was just brining him down. But my mind was distracted when the lights turned on. There was only one word for it. Gorgeous.

The lights reached all around the tree and the buildings, all different colours twinkling in the night. There were so many more this year, so many different shapes on the street lamps, snowflakes, Christmas puddings, Santa faces. The lights swirled round the drain pipes, and the guttering. I gazed around in amazement, the lights reflected in my eyes. I caught sight of Rafe, he wasn’t staring at the lights he was staring at me.

“How’d you know they were going to be different this year?” I laughed throwing my arms round his neck. “I may have pulled a few strings to make it a little more magical for you this year”. My eyes widened “Rafe Cameron” I shook my head in disbelief. “You know I’d do anything for you, I want you to experience a different Christmas this year” “does that mean you have some more tricks up your sleeve” I chuckled pushing up on my tip toes to get close to his face.

“Lots” he whispered giving me a small kiss. “Come on- I’ve lit up the whole town for you, let’s go walk down some streets” Rafe suggested putting his hand out for me to hold. I gave him a warm smile and grabbed onto his bicep as we began to walk round. I can’t believe he did this for me.

December the 7th

I knocked on Rafes door eyeing up the giant reef attached to the knocker. “Hello my love” he smiled opening the door for me and stepping backwards. “Hey handsome” I gave him a kiss as entered the house and began taking my shoes off. “I’ve told you you don’t need to knock anymore y/n, you’ve been around long enough to just come in- the house is yours” he told me pulling my coat off me gently and hanging it u for me.

“I know I know- but then i wouldn’t get my lovely greeting from you”. Rafe laughed at me shaking his head, “come on I set some stuff up for us” he said, I watched as an excitement flickered in his eyes. What christmasy task has he got for us to do now. I trailed behind rafe as we strode into the kitchen, ward was in there with rose and they both turned and smiled at me. “Hey y/n, how are you” Ward twinkle waving at me.

“Oh I’m okay thank you, how are yous” I smiled back leaning against the island. “Yeah not bad- just trying to organise Christmas as well as keep up with work” Ward rolled his eyes playfully. “We hear you might be joining us this year” rose joined in moving her eyes from me to Rafe. “Oh um…” “she’s still thinking about it” Rafe said for me, putting an arm round my waist. “Well, it would be lovely to have you here hunny, you’re always welcome” Rose nodded rubbing her husbands arm.

“Thank you- you don’t know what that means to me” I expressed watching them smile at each other. “We will leave you to it” ward nodded at the island table. I turned my head round seeing a huge box on the table. Rafe had taken everything out the box and opened the packaging. “Gingerbread house?” I looked at him shocked. “Yeah?” “I’ve never made one before” I blinked walking round to take a look at the box.

“Well I haven’t since I was a kid” rafe scratched the back of his head. “I guess it’s a little childish but it might be fun” “Rafe- I love it” I walked over rubbing his arm. “Thank you” I smiled getting excited now. “I just thought because you like doing your little craft stuff you might make a masterpiece” he joined me sitting down and we both got started picking up the pieces. The actual making of the gingerbread house I kinda sat back talking about what i’d been up to since I last saw him at the light switch on and let Rafe do the work. He seemed to know what he was doing.

But the decorating I was in charge of. We put icing all on the roof and the walls as well and sticking little treats on. Rafe had brought little sweets for us to use too, but we ended up eating half of them before they even made it onto the house. In the end it looked pretty good, we’d done a good job, I’d even go as far as saying it looked better than the boxes one. “Right, let’s take some pictures then we can make hot chocolate and eat it” Rafe rubbed his hands together.

“Mm- yeah sounds good” I nodded getting my phone out. “Smile handsome” I called out at him. We took some together and he took some of me, before Rafe went off to make us our drinks. I watched him smiling the whole time, wondering how I got so fucking lucky.

December the 15th

“Hello my love” I smiled at Rafe as I walked down the stairs, he was talking to my mum in the hall way. “Hello beautiful- you look lovely” he gazed up at me. “Thanks hun” I gave him a kiss on the cheek. “What you two up to tonight?” My mum wondered putting her hands behind her back. “I have no clue, Rafe seems to like surprises this month” I giggled, his hand wrapped round my waist. “She’ll like it, but it’s a bit of a drive so we better get going” “okay darlings, well I’ll probably have left for the airport hotel by the time you get back” she told me.

“Well have a great trip mum” she walked closer to hug me goodbye. “Merry Christmas darling, all your presents are under the tree, you’ll love them this year” she rubbed my arms. “Yeah- thank you” I nodded taking a step back. “Yours will be waiting for you when you get back” I told her feeling Rafe’s arm squeezed round me again. “Oh y/n me and your father don’t want anything off you” she shook her head. “It’s just something little- but we better get going- I’ll see you on new years”.

“Yes- you two enjoy yourself, I’ll see you later Rafe” she waved him off and walked off upstairs. And we left as quick as possible. “Wow- I can’t believe she’s that blind to how it makes you feel” Rafe shook his head baffled at my mum’s behaviour. “Christmas just isn’t a big thing in my family Rafe- it’s okay, she thinks she’s doing the right thing she’s going to work and buying me everything I could ever want” I shrugged my shoulders.

“I suppose” he sighed turning on the car. The drive was quite a while away, we again just spoke about what we’d been up to since we last saw each other on the 7th. Christmas wasn’t far now, and because my mum left tomorrow I had a feeling Rafe was going to want an answer tonight at some point. We drove about an hour away from home, and I really couldn’t put my finger on what we were doing tonight. Rafe parked in another car park, there were lots of people in this one too.

“What are we up to then” “come on” Rafe laughed throwing his arm round my neck. “You don’t have to wait much longer. Rafe lead me through the edge of town to the main streets and before my eyes stood a huge Christmas market flowing all the way down the street. There were stalls everywhere, loud Christmas music coming from the speakers. The lights weren’t as pretty as the ones back home but the market stalls made it very cute. “I’ve never been to a Christmas market”.

“Well I’m honoured to take you to your first one” Rafe rubbed his thumb across my hand. “Anything that catches your eye, it’s yours” “Rafe- you don’t have to do that I have my own money” I told him as we began the walk into the town center. “I took you here so I could spoil you, so anything you want my love, it’s yours”. “Well- we should probably get a drink while we’re walking around” pointing at a stall with a large sign.

“I’ll get a hot chocolate- what do you fancy?” He asked me turning us toward the line. “I’ll have a mulled wine since it’s Christmas”. As soon as the words came out my mouth I frowned to myself. Why was I going along with Christmas traditions? Maybe Christmas wasn’t so bad with the right people. “Of course gorgeous” Rafe answered me taking his wallet out, but I watched the smirk on his face, he looked proud of himself. He knew I was sliding over to his side.

Me and Rafe walked around all the stalls, trying things on, trying samples, buying things. Rafe got some every strong rum and he brought me a load of different trinkets. Jewellery, crochet animals, plants, little paintings, candela. We eventually had walked around and had brought everything we wanted, so we stopped off to get some food from one of the stalls and headed over to some benches to scran it.

“Rafe- I really enjoyed the Christmas markets” I smiled up at him holding my burger in my hands. “Correction- Rafe I really enjoyed spending your money”. I laughed nudging him “how dare you I offered to pay”, he joined in with the laughing. “You will never pay for anything while I’m around” he shook his head and stopped laughing. “So- have you thought anymore about my offer?”. I bit my lip staring at my food. “Okay Rafe- I’ll spend Christmas with you”. His eyes told me everything I needed to know.

He was so excited and that warmed my heart and soul. “You won’t regret it, you’ll have the best Christmas with us” he told me, practically bouncing in his seat. “I know handsome- thank you for everything you’ve done this month”, “well was i successful?- do you like Christmas a little more now?” Rafe slimmed his eyes at me. “Well- I’ve loved spending time with you and if that’s what Christmas is about then yes, you were successful” I nodded my head, it was impossible to stop my smile.

“I’ll take that”, Rafe leant in and softly kiss my cheek. “I love you Rafe- Merry Christmas”. His eyes widened in shock at my words but he still smiled. “I love you y/n, merry Christmas my love”.

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[imagitory]

So my mum and I were revisiting one of our all-time favorite Christmas movies, The Muppet Christmas Carol, and I think maybe -- just maybe -- there's some really fun symbolism we've all been missing out on. And it all has to do with our main character Scrooge and the color red.

Okay, so at the beginning of the film, Scrooge is in all black, from head to toe. It makes him this wonderful dark shadow over the rest of the cast, and also makes him immediately stand out when he's in public, since everyone else is much more colorfully dressed.

Contrast this especially to the people who are closest to him, Bob Crachit and his nephew Fred.

Well, well, isn't this interesting...both of them have red in their costumes. Even later on, at Fred's Christmas party, we see his wife also wearing red.

The Ghost of Christmas Present -- the ghost who in this film arguably influences Scrooge the most out of all of them -- has a bright red beard...

Oh yes, and we mustn't forget that our favorite narrator "Charles Dickens" is also wearing a bright red coat. (Even his friend Rizzo has some red in his scarf.)

Red as a color can mean lots of different things symbolically -- violence, passion, anger, courage, danger...but I think the one most relevant to this reading is love and warmth. Why? Because even when we see Scrooge as a young man prior to the "all black" treatment, his definitive color is a dark blue.

Notice how much cooler young Scrooge's overall color palette is compared to the much flashier, rosier Fozziwig. (And yes, I think that rosy palette is on purpose -- in the film, Scrooge even describes Fozziwig as being "as hard and as ruthless as a rose petal.") It also makes it so that when Scrooge meets Belle (at this point dressed in pale green with pink rose details), their palettes compliment each other a little bit more, even if Belle's look is still softer, lighter, and warmer in tone to Scrooge's cool, serious ensemble.

But when Belle and Scrooge part ways, we see them wearing colors that contrast much more. Scrooge is still in cool, detached blue, but Belle is in...

Red. Specifically, like Bob and Fred, she has red right around her neck, in the form of her bonnet's ribbon. And it's presumed that over time, after losing Belle and withdrawing more into himself and his own greedy self interest, that Scrooge lost the remaining color of his life and became the cold, black-hearted moneylender we see in the film.

Then of course Scrooge goes through this radical transformation thanks to the Ghosts of Christmas, as we all know...and the very first Christmas present he receives, as a thank you for his charity, is from one of the charity workers, played by Beaker. What is it?

A red scarf.

It's a gift given in the spur of the moment, and yet from Scrooge's reaction, we can tell it's something foreign to him. It's likely it's been ages since he's received such a modest, and yet heartfelt gift from anyone. Scrooge feels the warmth of the gesture, not just because a scarf keeps one's neck warm, but because it was given out of such sincere gratitude and kindness. And as startled as he is by it, he responds with such sincere joy, and wears it happily for the rest of the day. He wears that warmth as easily as Fred and Bob wore it earlier in the film -- as if it's become a part of him. And in a strange way, it has.

For the first time, arguably in his whole life, Scrooge has a true understanding of selfless, loving warmth. The warmth that he should and does feel for the people most central to his life and identity -- his nephew and niece-in-law, his loyal subordinate, his first employer, his first love...even the Spirits who taught him the true "meaning of the season." A kind, generous warmth that permeates the entire story of A Christmas Carol because it's what Charles Dickens loved so much about the holiday season and so wished to spark in his audience.

[rom-e-o]

Imagine one of little pups or Sundrops finding out about their father's past and perhaps even their mother's (at least, the uncharitable , gossipy interpretations of their pasts) before their parents got the chance to explain it to them. They're still young, probably just double digits, maybe not quite that even, and are maybe running around a holiday party the Scrooge's are throwing. Maybe this is a slightly more business associate filled party, and the little ones overhear some badmouthing about their parents from some more pompous and snooty attendees.

Or maybe some of the associates' children playing with them make some comments.

"My dad says your dad is a heartless monster who steals and hides away money like a rat bastard."

"That's not true! The only thing my dad ever stole is my mum's heart. He doesn't steal money!"

"Sure he did. My dad says there was even a time when all of London feared your dad because if they didn't give him the money he wanted from them he'd take everything else they had instead."

"That's a lie!"

"No it isn't. My dad said so, and my dad's right about everything."

"My dad isn't a heartless monster!"

"Sure he is."

"No, he isn't! My dad helps people! He builds things to help people in need and gives money to people who need it! And he loves me and my mama!"

"He doesn't love your mum, he just uses her to keep his bed warm--that's what my mum says. She says your mum is nothing but a Yankee whore and needed a place to stay and someone to take care of her, so she spread her legs for your dad."

"You're lying! You're lying! You don't know my mum and dad! You're just a big, stupid bully who doesn't know anything! And your mum and dad are just big, stupid bullies too!"

Cue child-sized brouhaha.

Oh deaaaar. It was only a matter of time before that gossip that the couples deal with from the paparazzi reaches the kids as a result of trickle down from their parents.

And, of course, it all comes to a head at a Christmas party that these ‘friends’ were invited to for merriment and to celebrate the holiday season.

And the poor Pups and Sundrops. It’s a delicate conversation, and there is LOTS of nuance. All four adults have PASTS, filled with some very difficult traumas and things that kids, teens, and young adults alike (hell, all adults) struggle to cope with. They’re not quite old enough for it, but of course, people talk … and their kids talk.

Let’s face it, these kids are probably miserable as jealous of the the Scrooge brothers and their families as their parents are. They see the wealth, the galas, the cars the fathers drive and the clothes they all wear. Hell, the party is a showcase of their big pocketbooks (in a fun and elegant way for guests, not as a vulgar display). They don’t understand how much they give to charity, not do they care.

The Pups and Sundrops, however, SEE all the work and charity their parents do.

“You’re just jealous!” they yell.

“Jealous of your whore mum and your crooked dad? Ha!”

As the kids fight, it draws the attention of the other partygoers. People start to whisper and gossip, watching (and not intervening). Once the kids start hitting each other is around the time the parents get wind and rush over.

The other children’s parents run in and try to make excuses out of it to Wolf/Adonis, while Bess/Connie hold their child.

“Sweetheart-“

“They were LYING, mum/mama! They said all these terrible things! They called you and papa terrible names, a-and I hit them! Because they were lying! Lying, lying!”

“Shhh, shhhhh, it’s okay, honey.”

Later on, after the hubbub calms down, I imagine there is … quite the conversation. First, about not hitting. Secondly, bout their father and mother’s past. I don’t think either couple would go into full detail about EVERYTHING (that’s a 18+conversation) but they do thrive them the overview.

“For a long time, I … was not a kind man, my child. It’s true.”

“I-It’s true? B-But it can’t be!”

“I’ve worked very hard to try and make up for my mistakes, but you cannot run from your past. I was not a very nice man for many years - I worked people to the bone, and hounded people for the money they owed. I need you to know, my child, that I regret those days with all my heart. I take accountability for those times, but I assure you, I am not the man I was, and I continue to strive to be better.”

“…(sniff) A-And mum/mama, you’re… you didn’t just marry papa for money, right?”

“No, darling. I fell in love with your father’s wonderful heart. I saw all the money he gives to charities, and that made me admire him even more.”

“…I’m sorry.”

“Darling, we appreciate you defending us, but please…never endanger yourself for us. We love you too much, okay? Your safety is more important than the opinions of some (whispers) stupid bullies, okay?”

“Hehe. O-Okay.” 🥹💕

[starlightshadowsworld]

There are scenes that essays could be written about.

And the first one that pops into my head is in Duck tales 2017 when the boys, Huey, Dewey and Luey learn what happened to their mum.

They find out that she stole the rocket Scoorge had made for her as a suprise.

And her signal got lost.

David Tennats rent must've been due because that man's voice in that episode fucking ripped my heart out.

Seeing Scrooge get on the defensive, the boys angry and grieving.

Scrooge pushing everyone away and them leaving him.

And just the flashbacks that he did everything he could to bring Della back.

But it wasn't enough.

Scrooge ends the episode where he began the season.

Sitting on his chair in the dark.

All alone.

"Well you've successfully pushed everyone you love and your family away, again. I hope your happy."

"I am."

He says through tears.

He had one chance to have it all and it's gone.

You just sit and remember that, that broke him.

Almost litterally.

But that was the last time he and Donald had seen each other.

Until 10 years later with the boys.

Della's sons.

I tell you I went into the next episode like I know everything's gonna be okay... But is it... 🥺?

[harrysfolklore]

putting the christmas tree with harry !!

this is my entry for @watchmegetobsessed’s fanficmas 2022 !! i hope you like it 💕

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NAUGHTY LIST

The calendar marked that it was December the 19, and you and Harry still didn't have a single Christmas decoration up in your house.

To be fair, you just spent the past month travelling across South America for Harry's last shows of 2022, but now after a quick stop in Los Angeles, you were finally home in London.

So after complaining about how your house looked so sad and dragging Harry to the nearest store to buy some decorations and a tree, your plan of the evening that consisted on getting your house in the Christmas mood started.

"It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas, everywhere you go." you and Harry sang along to Michael Bublé's voice that played on the speakers.

"Oh Christmas songs, I am your slave." Harry said as he passed you a couple of ornaments to hang on the tree.

"Did you just quote your tweet from 2014?" You turned around to look at him with a small smile, he was wearing a red jumper with brown corduroy pants and everything about him looked cuddly.

You loved being home with him.

"I don't know, maybe," he shrugged before continuing, "Mum called, wants to know if we're still coming this weekend."

"Of course we are, Christmas with the Styles for the second year, I wouldn't miss that for anything." you happily said, over the two years you and Harry have been together, his family had become your second one, they received you with open arms last Christmas and made you feel like one of them.

"Remember how nervous you were last year?" a smile made its way to Harry's face as he remembered last year's Christmas, since you and Harry started dating during his 2021 tour, you only had the chance to meet his mum and sister once when they visited him for one of his shows in LA, and Christmas was going to be your second meeting.

"Give me a break, okay? It was my second time meeting your mom and I was going to crash in her house for the holidays, of course I was going to be nervous." you told him as you hung more ornaments and decorations in your tree, it was almost done and you were very happy with the results.

"And they ended up loving you, baby, just like I told you," he moved to stand behind you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, pressing a few kisses to the side of your face, making you lean into him "Tree looks good, we did a great job." he kissed the side of your face again, lingering his lips there for a minute.

"We? Harry I basically did all of that on my own while you sang Christmas songs the entire time." you playfully complained, turning around to face him and place your hands on his stomach, the material of his jumper soft in your hands.

"Heyyyy! That was mean!" he made his typical 'Heyyy' face, making you throw your head back as you laughed.

“I’m so happy to be spending the holidays with you again,” you ignored his complaints and decided to be soft for a minute. It was the perfect season for it, after all, “This year was just amazing, and I can't wait to see what next year has for us, if you'll still have me, of course."

"Baby! Of course I'll have you, I'm wrapped around your little finger and you know that," he kissed your nose sweetly, making you scrunch your face a little, "Besides, who's going to put up my tree next Christmas if you're not around? I'm going to turn into Scrooge!" you rolled your eyes with affection before speaking.

"So that's the only reason why we're dating? Because I put together amazing Christmas trees?" you decided to play along with him.

"That and your fantastic arse." he placed his hands in your bum making you squeal and laugh.

"Wish I could said that your arse is fantastic too but," he raised his brow, waiting for you to finish your sentence, "I was taught not to lie to others."

"Oh come on, my arse is spectacular and you know it," you laughed at his antics again, he could be such a man-child sometimes, "You're being so mean to me today, I might have to do something about it."

"Yeah? Like what?" it was your turn to raise your brow and tilt your head, waiting for his answer.

"I'm putting you on my naughty list." he grabbed you by the hips, making your chest collide with his, you instantly moved your hands to place them on his neck.

"You have a naughty list? Who else is there?" your eyes moved to his lips for a moment, dying to taste the red wine he had been drinking from them.

"Just you, actually." he smirked and finally kissed your lips, happiness filling both of you to be home for the holidays.

taglist: @cucciolafaerie @eleanordaisy @sunflowersndpeaches @golden-hoax @alienorknight @daydreamingofmatilda @sunflowervolume66 @vanteguccir @ivyproblems @ayeshathestyles @stylesmygucci @gimsaysay @rosaliedepp @dontworrysunflower @milfrrynation @manifestrry @iceebabies @harrystylesrecs @pleasingrryyy @harianaswhore @leadmetogarden @abeanontoast @grapejuice-rry @vrittivsanghavi @msolbesg @tati813 @sad1esgf @ivegotparticulartaste @eviesaurusrex @itsgabbysblog @theekyliepage @gumballavocadoharry @watermelonsugacry @be-with-me-so-happily @a-strange-familiar @reveriehs @musicforcinemas @harrybabyyyyyyy @tinydeskwriter @noooovaaaaa @tenaciousperfectionunknown @mxltifxnd0m @rach2602 @balletdancerry @b-reads-things @juiceboxrry @lomlolivia @itsgigikay

[laurfilijames]

A Present Without A Bow

Pairing: Anders Johnson x female reader

Words: 4,349

Warnings: Rated E 18+. rough oral sex (M receiving), unprotected intercourse (M/F), slight asphyxiation, some family angst, Anders has feelings

Summary: Anders hates Christmas, but you’re about to change his mind when you deliver a very special gift to his apartment. Still, he continues to do what he does best, using sex to bury his true feelings for you.

A/N: gifs in the moodboard courtesy of my dear friend @enchantzz ! This fic is inspired by two of Kacey Musgraves’ Christmas songs; A Present Without A Bow and Christmas Makes Me Cry. I’ve often wondered what Christmas would have been like for the Johnson brothers after their parents both left them, and I can’t imagine it always being happy times, no doubt resulting in Anders being less than enthusiastic about the holiday.

———

Anders spun around on his chair to face the brick wall rather than the screen of his laptop that had been mocking him with a thousand things he wasn't accomplishing any of and ran his hand over his face. Was it too much to ask for him to just fall asleep tonight and wake up in the New Year?

Dawn was mumbling about something he couldn't quite make out, and with a heaving sigh he decided that she had been at work long enough on the night before Christmas.

"Dawn, go home. You've done more than your fair share of work," he called out loudly to overpower her complaints that were still spewing out of her mouth from her side of the office. "and I'm bloody tired of hearing about it…" he mumbled to himself as she walked with purpose over to his desk, her blonde hair swaying with the movement of her head that she shook at him.

"I am well aware of just how much I've done, Anders! I only wish you could say the same!" Her arms folded across her chest as she gave him a pointed look and he opened his mouth to defend himself but was stopped when she continued. "How on earth are you going to manage to finish all of this yourself before the end of the year?" she accosted, not knowing that he planned to simply Bragi his way out of every last minute situation with these persistent and very needy clients.

"Dawn, listen to me," he began, his voice lowering to that familiar octave that made her eyes glaze over at once and soak in every word that fell off his silver tongue. "Go home to Ty, to your mum. Enjoy your Christmas. There isn't a thing for you to worry your pretty little head over until after the holidays are done." He really didn't love using his powers on her, he thought as soon as his lips stopped dripping with their influence, especially after the amount of times Ty had begged him not to, but this was for a good reason.

"Right, okay," she easily agreed, spinning on her heel with a slight hesitation as to how her mind had been changed so effortlessly.

"Oh, and Dawn?" Anders called back to her, standing from his chair and holding a card out for her to take. "For you. Merry Christmas. Hopefully you don't think I'm as big of an asshole as everyone else does."

With a weak smile she accepted the envelope, turning it over in her hands. "I don't think you're an asshole. All the time," she added with a smile which made him laugh. "Thank you, Anders."

She walked over to her desk, the hefty bonus she now had in her hand making her walk with a spring in her step, and bent to retrieve her purse from the floor beside it. "Won't I be seeing you at Christmas dinner tomorrow?" she asked just as he convinced himself in his mind that he wasn't as bad as Scrooge for making his employee work on Christmas Eve.

Anders moved to sit on his desk, tucking his bottom lip in his teeth as he chuckled slightly out of his amusement of the situation.

"No." He looked up at her and when he saw her expression that encouraged him to continue, he did. "As you could imagine I'm not really big on the whole 'hugs and merriment' bullshit," he gestured with his hands before bracing one on his thigh. She began to give him a disappointed look and he knew she would try to argue that he was always welcome with his family, but she would never understand half of the issues that hindered the Johnson family. "I've got better plans, anyway," he lied in an attempt to prevent more of an inquiry. She didn't need to know he would be spending it alone.

"If you say so," she sing-songed, her desire not to know of what he could possibly get up to clear as she turned and walked to the door. "Merry Christmas, Anders," she wished, holding the handle and smiling at him warmly before making her exit.

The door closed shut and he hung his head down, his disappointment given a voice when he sucked his cheek in through his teeth and released it with a clicking sound as he thought of what he would do to pass the time. He dreaded the loneliness that would come from not going to dinner, but he was far too stubborn to actually make an appearance and have Mike look down at him from his high horse all day because of it.

He thought of the girls he could call, but then remembered it was of course Christmas and everyone would be with their families, and probably husbands and boyfriends anyway. Even if they were available to keep him entertained, that wasn't at all what he wanted. He wanted you.

You had been equally as busy with work so no plans were made to see each other over the holiday, and the thought gave him a sinking feeling in his gut. He missed you.

He reached for his phone to check if you had sent him a text in the time since he had last checked, a frown drawing over his lips when his screen came up blank. Tucking his phone in his pocket, he grabbed his keys and flicked off the lamp on his desk, deciding to ignore everything that still needed doing and to just go home instead. He needed a drink.

Approximately ten minutes had passed since you let yourself into Anders' apartment using the key Ty had so generously lent you when he dropped a parcel off at your office, giving you enough time to flick on a few lights and take in the rooms you were beginning to become familiar with. Not a single thing in the entire place gave evidence of it being Christmas at all, everything exactly how it was for the other three hundred and sixty-four days of the year. It didn't surprise you, but still the absence of a tree or lights or anything festive made you even happier that you decided to do this for him.

Now you stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom that was joined to his bedroom and tightened a sash of red silk ribbon around your waist, a smile forming on your face as you admired your otherwise naked self, praying this would be the kind of surprise he needed after a hellish week. He'd been so stressed lately, your last hookup together cut short due to his work, and between both of your schedules you hadn't had a chance to see each other again let alone talk, the most contact you had being a few brief texts between meetings. So what better way to treat him than having him come home to you naked and waiting? You knew him well enough by now to know the way to his heart was through his cock and you intended to let him use you as his playtoy until he fell into a well-earned sleep and you could slip out before morning.

Your only hope now was that Anders chose to come home at a reasonable hour and didn't stop anywhere on his way.

Within no time at all you heard the door unlock and creak open, the heavy sound of his confident steps walking from the entrance into the kitchen.

Positioning yourself on your side on his bed, you eagerly waited for him to make his way in to find you, trying so hard to contain your excitement at the thrill of hearing his hesitation as he came to realize that someone was in his apartment and had turned on some lights he was sure he hadn't left on.

It was difficult to imagine someone looking more handsome than him, you thought, watching him stride casually through the bathroom to stop at the bed before you, his strut and searing gaze making you press your thighs together. His eyes sparkled with mischief and his grin hinted at a playful promise; this was the exact reaction you had hoped for.

"Ho, ho, ho," he said, his voice dripping with lust and approval, drinking the sight of you in. "Christmas came early."

"Let's hope not too early," you replied, grinning when he hummed out a loud chuckle that made his belly expand and chest puff out, his reaction true and genuine.

"Oh, you'll be waiting for your turn to come, don't worry."

Anders tugged to loosen his tie at the same time he kicked off his shoes, a malicious smirk playing on his inviting lips.

"I don't think I deserve to be punished for giving you your gift early," you chided with mock offense, shifting slightly to present yourself to him more.

"Punishment is exactly the thing you deserve for breaking and entering, baby."

"Hmm, and here I was about to let you do whatever you wanted with me…"

He cocked his head to the side and squinted with that infamous smug look that made more wetness pool between your legs, "Do I not do what I want with you already?"

What a bastard, you thought, but giggled with pure delight as he joined you on the bed, pushing you onto your back and crawling over your body, his mouth covering yours with an eagerness you wished all day for him to have.

You pulled at his tie to bring his still-clothed body closer to yours, desperate to feel his heated skin against you, all while knowing he wasn't going to make it that easy for you to get what you wanted. Your hips lifted to make contact with the very hard and prominent bulge in his pants, eliciting a sharp groan out of him, causing your own breath to hitch.

"Let me feel you," you requested in a whine as Anders attacked your neck with his lips, his stubble scratching your skin with how rough he was rubbing against you.

"As you wish," he grinned, moving to look at you with darkened eyes and dimples caving in on his cheeks.

But of course he didn't do what you had in mind. Instead of undressing completely, Anders kneeled back on the bed and pulled his belt from his pants, giving it a threatening snap before throwing it onto the floor and unfastened his trousers to free his enlarged cock. "You're welcome to feel this all you want, but only with your mouth," he purred, looking down at you with malice that made your mouth water and more arousal to collect in your folds.

Giving himself a few strokes while you brought yourself to your hands and knees, Anders thought how he couldn't imagine anything better than you being with him right now, surprising him like this, the gesture making his heart sing and cock throb.

Looking up at him with innocent eyes, you brought your mouth to the tip of his cock and closed your lips around it, swirling your tongue to capture the drop of cum that leaked out before slowly moving your head toward his torso to take all of him into your mouth.

"Fuck, baby," he hissed, his hips thrusting forward slightly to meet your movement, making you gag and peel back a little. Your tongue licked the smooth length of him from head to the base where your nose tickled in his dark blond hairs, the smell of him intoxicating you and encouraging you to take him into the very back of your throat again.

You looked up to see him watching you with the most pleased look on his face, his eyes meeting yours for only a moment before traveling down your body to your ass that was stuck up in the air, one of his hands moving to smooth down your back and give your bum a smack as you dragged your teeth carefully along his shaft before hollowing out your cheeks to suck with perfect pressure.

A drawn-out moan crooned out of you, the act of giving him this pleasure drowning you in your own, your slick beginning to drip from you as you bobbed back and forth on his cock.

Anders of course took notice of your state and bucked into your wet warmth, seeing how far he could push your limit, a satisfied noise leaving him when you sputtered around him, tears springing from your eyes, your nipples hardening into stiff peaks.

Letting your jaw go slack as you focused on your breathing, you allowed Anders to fuck your mouth, his bulbous head slamming into the back of your throat with every thrust. You reached one of your hands up to cup his sack, applying gentle squeezes that you knew he loved, massaging him gently to help send him over the edge.

But that wasn't how he wanted this to end.

Anders raked his fingers through your hair and pulled back, tilting your head up and off of his cock, an excited laugh echoing above you.

"Christ, you nearly sucked the life out of me," he snickered, releasing your hair and holding your chin in his hand as he wiped the saliva from your panting lips. He bent down to kiss you, ghosting his lips over yours when he broke contact and whispered lowly, "That's not how I want to fill you up though."

The pulsing intensified between your legs and you rubbed them together when you sat up in an attempt to get some friction where you needed it most. It was easy to see how satisfied he was in watching you struggle, a small grin pulling at his lips as he unbuttoned his shirt and discarded his tie, standing from the bed to remove his pants that hung under his ass.

He placed his hands on his bare hips and tilted his head to the side, "What to do with my gift now…" he wondered aloud, your mind racing and heart beating furiously at the possibilities he could be drumming up. Nothing was ever out of the question with Anders, all of which added to the allure of being with him. He excited you, challenged you, and gave you the most extreme moments of ecstasy you would never be able to erase.

The truth was that Anders didn't know what he wanted from you next. His thrumming heart was urging him to lock his lips against yours and not let go, to take his time in savouring you while his mind and cock were working as a team and telling him to fuck you senseless and ignore the plea of his silenced emotions.

So he did what he knew best; taking a step toward the bed he pressed his lips against yours furiously, his hand gently wrapping around your neck to stroke it slowly.

You whimpered, your head falling back as he followed the path of where his hand had just applied pressure on your throat with his searing lips, his hands traveling lower across every curve on your body, stopping to yank on the bow to ensure it was still secured around your waist.

His tongue licked a wet stripe over the crest of your breast and flicked at your nipple, making you spread your legs further apart in hopes he would touch your impatient core next, leaving you disappointed when he abandoned you completely and rested his hands on either side of your legs on the mattress. You opened your eyes to see his turned to a flaming, wicked blue, his face hovering inches from yours, the way his arms were braced around you making the muscles in his chest and shoulders flex and distract you.

"I'm not going to go easy on you," he warned, his voice so calm and quiet it could be mistaken that he said something lovely and kind if you didn't hear the words.

All you could do was lick your lips, everything suddenly feeling dry, giving Anders the tiniest nod of your head in confirmation that you would be happy to have him treat you with as much ruthlessness as he had many times before.

"Good girl," he softly assured, standing up tall to look down at you. "Now turn around." He barked this time, sending a shiver down your spine at the sharpness of his order. Spinning on your knees, you planted your hands firmly on the bed, fisting the sheets to try to steady yourself for what was to come.

"Look how ready you are for me," he praised, a gasp of breath blowing out of your lungs that you'd been holding when he cupped your heated mound from behind, his hand dragging over your folds teasingly. "So desperate for it," he murmured to himself while he pushed two thick fingers through your slick, giving you only a small sense of relief as he moved them in and out of you a few times.

"Anders," you cried out weakly, moving your body back toward him so he entered you deeper still which only made him retreat from you to circle your aching clit with his thumb and press onto it as you writhed to his touch.

He wanted to make you cum, to send you into oblivion and hear you scream through the pleasure only he could give you as you collapsed around him. To watch every blurred emotion cross your features while having you spread out below and facing him like the perfect gift you were, but he couldn't tease his heart like that. He was already teetering on the edge of falling for you in a way he couldn't come back from, and he wasn't at all willing to give you those shattered pieces of himself. Anders knelt behind you on the bed, lined up to your soaking heat and drove his thick member deep inside you until he reached the hilt, his loud groan mixing with your cries which helped to drown out the pestering in his chest. The pace he set right away was so hard that the bed shook against the wall, his hips slapping on your rear with each blow, and if he didn't slow down he wouldn't last much longer.

You turned to look over your shoulder at him, causing Anders to close his eyes to feign away his temptation to stare into yours that were so brilliant and no doubt the portal to your heart that beckoned him to show you his own. You deserved better, he thought, trying to focus on how good you felt making his cock wet and squeezing it in time with his pumps. He was broken, and you were, well, you were flawless. His pace slowed for a moment, your soft moans bringing him back to you, the heat of your smooth skin sending warmth through to the coldest depths of his soul.

No, it couldn't happen, he convinced himself yet again, tightening his grip around you and clenching his teeth together as he pounded you harder this time, sweat dripping down his body, your own skin glistening with moisture from both pleasure and pain.

As time went on his tempo kept changing, rushed and then unhurried, his heart and mind battling each other with alternating indecision, the neglected organ in his chest beginning to take the lead.

You begged beneath him, your body slowly making its way to lay on the sheets, his blind fury taking everything out of you as you waited for your release. Unable to deny you any longer, Anders reached between your body and the bed and found your pulsing clit, a few brushes of his fingers in addition to his cock slamming against your g-spot finally letting you come undone in a sightless epiphany. Your walls strangled him, a fresh wave of arousal soaking him that tossed him through to his own end, blurry visions of your shuddering body still tied with the red ribbon distinguishable through white spots of pure rapture.

Curses flew from him as he collapsed over your body, both of you panting and gasping for a normal breath as you tried to recover from the intense highs you provided each other. He covered your upper back in kisses, trailing all the way up to your neck, brushing your hair to the side to get it out of your face where it stuck to your sweat. Rolling his hips against you one more time, he pulled out of you and fell beside you, resting one arm up over his head and looking over at your smiling face still hazed from pleasure.

Your eyes fluttered closed and he took a moment to appreciate just how stunning you were, especially when you were like this; exposed and on-display in every sense, your hair a mess and your makeup no longer as neat as it usually is, yet purely glowing from the effects he had on you.

Not able to keep from you any longer, he reached for you and pulled you into his side, kissing your temple, your hums of approval sparking a happiness inside him that he hadn't experienced on a Christmas Eve since before he could remember.

He would always hate Christmas, he thought as he caressed your arms and waist, but already you were starting to change his mind. The image of you laid out for him wearing the red bow his fingers kept catching on now was going to outweigh every bad one that resonated in his mind. All the years of fighting with Mike and Ty on Christmas morning, Axl sobbing loudly beside a tree with a scarce few gifts under it and the pain of having their parents abandon them would no longer be in the forefront of his memories.

How had he become so lucky? Only hours ago he thought he would be spending Christmas Eve alone for yet another year, and here you were; the most precious gift he could ask for wrapped up for him in the most appealing packaging, giving pieces of yourselves to each other that meant more to him than any stupid gift money could buy.

"Thank you," Anders said with a crack in his voice, shifting to make you roll onto your back, him on his side leaning partially on top of you.

"For what?" you asked faintly, surprised at how much his expression had changed from the untamed version that took dominance mere moments ago.

"For this, being here. Being the best present ever."

His lips melted against yours, the tenderness of his kiss sending a sense of awe through you, revealing a more vulnerable side of him you were only ever able to catch glimpses of before. Unsure of what to say in response when he pulled away from you, you licked the taste of him from your lips and admired the way his eyes held a gentler tone of blue to them, and your heart ached at the sadness that lingered so close on the other side.

As if sensing your silent evaluation, he blinked twice and looked down at your waist, his fingers fiddling with the ribbon.

"I guess you never properly unwrapped your gift, did you?"

"Hm," he laughed gingerly, "No, I guess not."

Pulling at the ends of the ribbon, the bow slowly unraveled, his fingers separating the material from your skin to finish revealing what little parts were only barely covered by it, a sated smile decorating his face as he officially opened his gift.

He was like a present without a bow, he thought, the idea sobering and filling him with shame. Nothing but a shell of a shallow man, a vessel of a god who's broken heart still has broken parts, just wrapped in pretty paper.

To disguise his unsettling thoughts, Anders leaned into you again, his eyes closing shut to hide his turmoil from your knowing glance, demanding entrance to your mouth with his tongue again in an intense kiss.

Anders had always felt like one of the misfits from that god-awful claymation movie that he would watch over and over again with Axl, holding him close to his side so his littlest brother would fall asleep to that instead of crying himself to sleep.

Him and his family carried so much baggage, most of it you would never be able to know. There was so much of himself he had to hide away, and what he could share was tattered and torn.

Would you accept what little he did have to offer?

This loaded question wouldn't be an easy one for you to answer, let alone for him to ask, so he went with what seemed easier and ground his revived erection against you and muttered in a raspy voice against your lips; "Will you stay and have Christmas with me tomorrow?"

It was shocking, no doubt, and while it was rare that he would ask for you to stay the night, you had a feeling this invitation went far beyond the opportunity to make up for lost time and have lots of mind-numbing sex.

"Won't you be seeing your family?" The question came bursting past your lips as the one out of many you were willing to ask out loud.

His head shook back and forth and his dimples deepened once more as he smiled at you. "You're much more fun than they are."

His laugh sounded true as he covered your neck with a pattern of kisses, feeling your pulse beating to a tune that would let Anders take the time he needed to be able to one day show you the scars that plagued his heart.

His stiff cock pressed against your tender but greedy core, causing you to arch up into him in an invitation to fill you again.

Once more you found yourself intoxicated by his hands all over your body, allowing your hearts and minds to drift away as you melted into cloudy, physical desire, both of you happy to be creating your own special Christmas tradition.

———

Taglist:

Everything: @guardianofrivendell @midearthwritings @cassiabaggins @lilith15000 @trishthedishofreis @linasofia @unbeatablecurlgirl @the-poldarkian @lathalea @enchantzz @blairsanne @legolaslovely @shalinizhara @middleearthpixie @i-did-not-mean-to @sketch-and-write-lover

[rason-rodd]

The Boy Who Didn’t Like Christmas - Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: You decide to surprise Jason with a Christmas tree but things don’t go as planed. Did he really just call you a friend? 

Warning : Fluff, Humor, Slight Angst  

Author’s note: A new Bat-Christmas one shot, this time with Jason (the last one will be with Dick). I tried to make Reader as general neutral as possible. Hope you’ll like it

“You’re clearly not from the Hill … or the Narrows.” You were pretty certain the rebuke would have hurt ten times more if Dana Harlowe had said everything she was keeping well hidden in her badass heart. But there was no need to say more. It was clear she didn’t hold you close to her heart.       To her, you were the pain in the ass from Uptown Gotham, the one who certainly knew nothing about striving to get out of the dirt and who had certainly always get what she wanted by simply twitching her nose. In a nutshell, everything she was happy not to be. But you had one thing in common. Or at least, one person. Jason Todd.         Dana had known him for over a decade. You had known him for a couple of months. But you as well as she had learned to deeply care about him, except that one of you had let things go way beyond friendship quite a couple of times. That one being you.     “I was just suggesting bringing Jason a Christmas tree to decorate his apartment, Dana. That’s it.” You tried to defend yourself as you buried you hands in your pocket.           “And how many times should I tell you that Jason hates Christmas?” You sighed as you both could barely keep your annoyance to yourself anymore. “No one really hates Christmas.” “So what you’re going to show up to his place with a goddamn tree, all dolled up, flutter your eyelashes and hope he won’t be mad at you?”     You shrugged. “That’s an idea”

***

And Dana hadn’t been able to stop you. So, one Sunday afternoon you showed up to Jason’s place with a bag filled with brand new Christmas decorations and a heavy tree that had made you sweat streams to carry in the old staircases and, with a tired sigh, you rang at Jason’s door. He opened it without waiting or looking through the spyhole, apparently not thinking (or caring) about the possibility of a lunatic waiting on his doorstep with a deadly weapon. “You know I could have been a very angry elf with a gun. You should use that little peephole”     “ Y/N” He looked astonished to see you here, especially with all that Christmas stuff “I…” “By the way, you should also write your co-ownership trustee and ask for an elevator. Yours stairs are a living hell.” You declared to make sure he wouldn’t have time to realise or protest against what you were planning to do. “Give me a hand, would you?” You asked as you tried to drag the tree by the crown inside the apartment, sprinkling the ancient wooden floor with pine needles.     “Explain.” Jason demanded as he helped you carry the Christmas tree to the corner of his living room and erect it. “There! Perfect.” You clapped your hands, proud that the tree was still looking good despite the mistreatment you have given it and also because it was standing in Jason’s apartment, contradicting all of Dana’s sayings that “a Christmas tree will never cross Jason Todd’s doorstep”. “Suck it, Dana!”         “Alright. You’re weird today. What’s with the tree?” Jason’s face seemed a bit twisted, as he didn’t know if he should smile or be worried. “Next week, it’s Christmas. You can’t celebrate Christmas without a Christmas tree.”       He frowned, definitely looking for the right words in his beautiful yet tortured head of his to be sure he would not kill your excitement or hurt your feelings. “Y/N. I wasn’t planning on celebrating Christmas this year.” “I know. Dana told me about you being Scrooge Jr.” You joked, not caring at all, as you opened the plastic bag full of decorations to empty it on the couch. “That’s a bit overstating things.” Jason scratched his head. He had never heard anyone compare him to Dicken’s famous character. “I mean. Not liking Christmas doesn’t make me a miserly bitter old man.”       “Were you planning on spending Christmas alone sitting on your couch with cold noodles, watching Netflix and calling Christmas humbug?” He waited before answering, trying to see how he could debunk you little argument. But there was no way. “Not Netflix. Cutthroat Kitchen.”           “Oh my god. You’re Scrooge.” You sighed, exasperated before showing a beautiful transparent Christmas ball with little snowflakes inside. “Look how cute!” Your enthusiasm made him smile discreetly but not discreetly enough to go unnoticed. “I guess there’s no way I’m gonna stop you, right?” You shook your head. “You can still try but no. I’m going to give you some Christmas spirit, choke you with it if I must and I won’t leave this place until you love it. And mark my word, I will use string lights if needed” You threatened as you showed him the lights. “You would really tie me up to the tree? You know BDSM is not my thing.”           “ No I would tie myself to the tree. Because as much as I know you can throw that tree away once I’m gone, I’m sure you won’t be able do so if I’m tied to it.”             “And why so?” He smirked, curious to know your reason. “Cause you like me too much.” Was he really an open book? He never thought so but there was something with you, something weird and unusual that could make him act in strange ways. Perhaps was he getting soft. “And also, because you wouldn’t get my very special gift if you kick me out.” Jason squinted and you played with your eyebrows as you bit your lower lip so that he would get the naughty message. That eventually made him laugh and he tried to remember when was the last time he thought sexy could be funny.         “Ah. The things I would do for you.” He kissed the top of your head softly, making your shiver and close your eyes and for a second you tried to resist the sudden urge to catch him by the neck and kiss him on the lips. Not that he would have minded, you thought. But there was a difference between occasional sex and displays of affection. “Let’s do this. Before you decide to make me sing Mariah Carey.”       “Oh …” You pretended to think about the idea with a finger over your lips. “Don’t push it.”

And so you ended up decorating the Christmas together, laughing and chatting about some random stuff until you dared ask. “Why don’t you like Christmas?” Jason froze for a moment and you saw him close his eyes to take a deep breath. “Well it’s difficult to like Christmas when you’ve got a family like mine.” He finally declared as he hung a Christmas ball on a branch.         “You mean Bruce …” You supposed though you were not sure of you should continue this conversation. “If only there was just Bruce.” You decided to be quiet when you noticed his sudden bitterness but he chose to keep talking. “I never had a proper Christmas as a kid. When mum wasn’t completely stoned on the bathroom floor, dad was in jail. And when we were finally together, well … Let’s say Christmas spirit wasn’t something the Todd family knew about.”             “I’m sorry.” You said, wondering if you should hug him or at least caress his arm as a sign of comfort. “Don’t be. Plus, it’s not like I cared that much about Christmas as a kid anyway.” You could tell it was a lie, a huge bad lie only made to mask some deep-rooted wound, a lie Jason had learned by heart as if it was a mere line and had probably served to anyone around him for as long as he could remember. It wasn’t hard to guess. You just had to see how hurt he looked deep down in his beautiful tortured eyes. “I mean, there are other days to offer gifts.”       “Sure.” You had a light smile and you focused again on the decoration of your tree. “But I appreciate what you’re doing, Y/N”       “By what I’m doing, you mean … making you celebrate the event you hate the most without complaining?” You tried to joke. “That.” He chuckled. “And being a good friend.” A friend? Was friend really the right word? Well, maybe … in a way … or not. After all, what friends occasionally end up fucking when the sexual tension becomes too hard to handle?     “I know you’re doing this because of your permanent worry about me. But you don’t need to worry. I’m fine.”           “I’m sure you are.” You sighed and Jason caught your hands in his. “Hey. I’m a tough guy. I’ve got thunder thighs and sharp abs. You said it yourself”. You chuckled briefly, remembering the time when you told him this. Pretty sure you were naked and drunk by the way.           “I know you’re tough Jason. Actually, you’re certainly the toughest person I know. But I’m not stupid. And I know there are things that you’re hiding from me.” He suddenly frowned and you felt his grip around your hands loosening, as if he was ready to run away from you. “And I’m not asking you to tell me what it is. I understand that you have your secrets. I do to. I just … I just want you to be honest with me, to tell me when you feel low, when you need me.” You added as you grabbed his arms to keep him close. “We’re … friends after all, aren’t we?” You hated that argument but you decided to use anyway, just to see his reaction.     “Yeah. Yeah, sure.” Jason whispered after a second of heavy silence. “We’re friends.” Not the reaction you wanted.   “Good.” You let go of him and went back to hanging Christmas balls but you both could feel the weird tension, the awkwardness and you couldn’t help but blame yourself for ruining that moment which had begun so well. You should have listened to Dana. “Maybe I should go.” You declared as you resigned yourself to get the hell out of here before making things worse between you two.     “No!” Jason almost shouted. “No. We … Let’s finish the tree first okay? Please” You sighed. “Plus you mentioned a gift, right?” Normally that comment would have made you smirk but not today, not now. “That’s not a gift you give friends, Jason”

***

“You played the friends card? Not cool.” Jason suddenly remembered the little mental note he had left for himself the last time he had talked to Dick about his love life. ‘Never again.’ But Roy was gone and so were Artemis and Bizarro or any other friends he could have confessed to. “But we are friends.” He tried to justify himself. “I think.”     Dick shook his head, slightly exasperated yet amused by his little brother. “You saying ‘I think’ makes me believe you don’t see Y/N as a friend.”             “Why does it have to be so complicated?” Jason sighed as he tried to remember when was the last time he had seen you as merely a friend.       “Because it’s love and nothing is ever simple when it comes to love. No need to be a relationship expert to know this.” Jason glanced at Dick who was smiling at him. “I hope you don’t consider yourself an expert considering the failure that is your love life and your on and off relationship with Babs.” Dick shrugged. Yes, apparently he was. Cocky boy wonder. “I’m expert enough to know you don’t call someone you have sex with a friend.” “Oh come on! Ever heard of friends with benefits?” Jason harrumphed, slightly annoyed by his predecessor’s judgemental attitude right now.   “Jason please. You guys are not friends with benefits and you know why? Cause your relationship is not platonic at all. You like Y/N and Y/N likes you. But you are too unconfident or too scared to admit it so you end up having sex when you don’t know how to handle your feelings anymore. Now can we take care of that bunch of lousy criminals before they escape with the money?”             As much as it hurt Jason to admit it, Dick was right. He liked you. He liked you a lot. Maybe he was in love with you even, he didn’t know. But what he really knew right now was that he had screwed up, bad, and that he wanted to fix things between you two.

***

You turned your key in the keyhole, exhausted by your long day at work and blaming the snow that had literally frozen your toes and fingers on your way back home. “Maybe I should ask for a ugly pair of Uggs for Christ…mas”           You couldn’t move, your limbs as frozen as your fingers and toes or maybe worse. Eyes widened you looked around you and at the thousands colourful lights illuminating your entire apartment and the Christmas decorations scattered all over the furniture. “What the hell happened here?”             “Do you like it?” You yelled and jumped and, out of pure reflex and fear, punched hard the person standing right behind you before you could realise it was actually Jason. “Oh my god, Jay.” He groaned and put a hand over his nose to calm the pain. “Damn. I think you broke it.”   “Let me see.” You tried to remove his hand from his face to see how badly injured he was. “No! Don’t touch it. Don’t touch it.” He cried out as a sign of protest but eventually let you take him inside right to your couch where you left him an instant to go fetch some ice in the freezer. “What are you doing here that late?” You asked as you came back to sit by his side. “I wanted to surprise you. I guess it worked.” He hissed as you finally put the small bag of ice against his nose.             “You did this?” You asked as you looked again around you. There were probably at least dozens of flickering string lights hanging from the ceiling above your head as well as fake snow all over the floor of the living room and miniature Christmas trees and other lovely decorations carefully placed on the furniture. “Yeah.”           “How? When?” You couldn’t believe he had done this.             “This afternoon while you were gone. I entered by the window. You know you should check if they’re close before leaving.” You smile when you understood the nod to what you had told him last you saw each other. “Why?”     “ Well. Because it’s dangerous of course. I mean a lunatic could enter and turn your place into a Christmas shop. Oops too late.”     “ No, I mean. Why did you do this?” You asked again, not really in the mood to laugh at his joke right now. “It’s Christmas, isn’t it? … And I like you” He said while looking at you right in the eye. “And not as a friend. Cause clearly we’re not friends and we’re not …” You dropped the bag of ice to catch Jason by the neck and kiss him passionately. How long have you waited for him to finally say it. “Ow. Ow. Easy.” Jason complained right against your lips when your nose pressed too hard against his. “Sorry.” You whispered with a smile. “Don’t smile at my pain. I’m really hurt.”   “Aren’t you a tough guy?” You teased, using his own arguments against him.         “Not when I’m with you.” He confessed and approached your face again, slowly and carefully, to kiss your soft lips with a delicacy that made you shiver. “There are so many things I want to tell you, Y/N.”       “ Then say them.” You whispered still close to his face, feeling his hot breath against your skin. “It would ruin Christmas’ spirit.”   “I thought you didn’t like Christmas.”       “I lied.”

[drummergirl231-2]

"It's good to have you home" with Donald, Della and Scrooge, please?

[link to AO3]“Maybe we’ll discoverwhat we shoulda known all along! Yeah,One way or another,together’s where we both belong!”

 Della started up the dishwasher while singingalong to Powerline. What a great day to be alive! They’d returned frominvestigating the ghost lights of the everglades the night before, she’d justhad the best omelet she’d ever made and only briefly set the kitchen on fire atiny bit, she had her old favorite songs playing on a new phone that she wasfinally getting used to, and best of all, she and her whole family were homeand accounted for.

She turned to go look for her boys,ready to jam out to the chorus of “Eye to Eye,” but she stopped in hertracks. Louie was peering into the kitchen with one hand on the door frame. Hejumped the moment they locked eyes.

Della pulled the earbuds from her ears. “Happy Sunday, my littlepunkin’-noodle-apple-face!”

“Uh… yeah… Happy Sunday.”

Oh, she knew he was up to something…hiding something, looking for something, spying on her for whatever reason, butshe didn’t mind. She loved everything about her boys, even their mischief.

“Whatcha up to, leaning all sneakilylike that?”

“I’m not leaning sneakily…” he lied. Hestraightened up but positioned himself so only the right half of his body wasvisible in the doorway.

“Uh-huh. Sure,” she grinned. “Well, d’youwant any breakfast? I’m getting way better at not setting the kitchen ablaze!”

Louie cocked his brow and looked over tothe stove covered in fire extinguisher foam. Della followed his eyes.

“No really, it’s an improvement!” shesaid. Aw, who am I kidding? “…or I could… get you some fruit orsomething…”

“I’ll, uh… eat later. I was looking forUncle Donald. He wasn’t on the houseboat.”

“Oh, he’s helping Uncle Scrooge in theattic!”

“Which attic?”

“The one with no kids living in it and lotsa boxes. We’re gonna see what stuffof mine is up there! I guess Uncle Scrooge kept my room the way it was for awhile, but after Mrs. B. became the housekeeper, he had her pack everything up.I was just gonna go find you and your brothers to see if you wanna help!”

“Yeah… coooool… Good idea, Mom! You findHuey and Dewey, and I’ll go straight up to the attic…” He inched his way to theleft as he spoke, and she knew he was going to turn and run for it – as much ashe hated running – as soon as he was done speaking. It was like he was tryingto hide his left side from her… and wasn’t his mosquito bite from the nightbefore on his left shin? The bite that got so puffy so quickly?

“How’s your mosquito bite, by the way?”she asked just as he turned.

Louie stopped. “Uh… fine! Totally fine.”

“Lemme see.”

Louie’s brow furrowed and he darted hiseyes to his left and right and around the kitchen, looking for an excuse to notshow her.

“If you try to run, I will chase you,and I will catch you. Don’t underestimate the speed of a cyborg mama.”

Louie sighed in defeat and stepped intothe kitchen, and Della gasped at the angry, swollen red bite an inch indiameter surrounded by pink-tinted skin wrapping nearly all the way around his skinnylittle leg.

“Oh, Honey!” she knelt before him to geta closer look. Before he’d gone to bed, Donald had drawn a line with a blue penaround the entire bite – the red and the pink - and now the red center alonewas creeping past the line. “Does it hurt?”

“Only a little bit.”

“Does it itch?”

“Yeah, pretty bad.”

“Have you been scratching it?”

“No. Then I wouldn’t be able to tell howmuch of the redness was from the bite and how much was from me scratching it.”

Della smiled at her clever boy, but onlyfor a moment. That meant none of the redness had to do with him messing withit. The bite was that bad all on its own.

“Can I touch it? I won’t press downhard.”

“I… guess…”

Della pressed her fingertips to thebite, avoiding the exact spot the mosquito must have bitten him. His leg feltwarm to the touch. Just to double check, she pressed her left fingers to hisother leg in the same spot. Cool as a cucumber by comparison.

“Right. Okay. We’re gonna go get yourUncle Donald.”

A few minutes later, Della poked herhead into the attic and looked around. She could hear Scrooge and Donald, butshe couldn’t see them.

“Donald?” she called. “Come look at yournephew’s bug bite!” Did that sound toopanicky? she asked herself. Gotta notpanic. Can’t scare Louie. Keep it light.

“Coming!” Donald called back.

Della climbed back down the ladder towait with Louie. She was about to ask him how he was feeling other than thebite on his leg when a loud crash and a “WAAAAK!” rang out above them.

“Ugh, tatter me tartan! Watch yerself,Lad!”

“Oh, boy… that’s all we need, to takethe both of you to Urgent Caretoday…”

“Wait wait wait, ‘Urgent Care?!’” Louie asked. “I gotta go to Urgent Care?!”

Goodgoin’, Del. So much for keeping him calm. “Well… all the normal doctors’ offices are closed today, Sweetie. It’sSunday.”

“But I gotta go today? I can’t go tomorrow? Why’s it urgent? Is it that bad?!”

“Don’t you want something for theitching?” she reasoned.

“We… have the pink stuff…”

“Oh, doctors have way better stuff thanthe pink stuff. That garbage is about as useful for itching as rubbing Pepto onyour skin.”

She seemed to have struck a chord. Louiestopped debating and leaned against the wall with a half-shrug as Donald andScrooge finally made it down the ladder.

“Louie? How’s your bug… awww, phooey…”Donald said when he caught sight of it.

“Great Scott! Is that only fromyesterday?” Scrooge asked.

“Yeah, and it’s warm to the touch. I’mthinking it might be cellulitis.”

“‘Cellulitis?’” Louie asked. “I thoughtthat was those dimples people get on the backs of their legs.”

Della chuckled. “That’s cellulite.”

“Then what’s cellulitis?” Louie asked asDonald knelt in front of him to examine the bite.

“An infection under the skin,” Scroogeanswered. “Nothing te panic about, as long as ye get it seen to quickly.”

Donald put the back of his hand againstLouie’s forehead and Della mentally kicked herself. Checking for a fever! I shoulda thought of that! Then Donald puthis finger tips under Louie’s chin and felt his neck. Ugh and checking his lymph nodes! I never would’ve thought of that!Dangit!

Louie made a little gagging noise toprotest Donald checking his neck and Donald stopped.

“The good news is, it looks like wecaught it early,” Donald said. “But we’ve gotta get you in to a doctor.”

“But what’s the doctor gonna do?!”

Maybesome lighthearted joking will calm him down? Della thought. “Well, he’ll probably have to chop it…but hey! Then we’ll match!”

Louie let out a slow whine like a sirenand wrapped his arms around Donald, sobbing into his shirt.

“Oh geez… oh, Honey I’m sorry; I wasjust teasing. Mommy has a dark sense of humor. Oh gosh you’re not used to thatyet… I’m so sorry. No baby, he’s not gonna chop it.”

When she glanced up at Donald, sheexpected him to be glaring at her disapprovingly, but instead she saw the faceof empathy… which, because she was feeling so awkward, was sort of anuncomfortable cringe. Scrooge on the other hand was doing his best to keep fromlaughing at her failed attempt to comfort her son. It must be nice to have thegrandparent role. All Scrooge had to do was sit back and watch her mess up herkids, then tell her stories of the way he messed up when they were little toteach her lessons she really could have used earlier.

“It’s okay,” Donald told Louie, strokingthe feathers on the back of his head. “The doctor will probably just give yousome antibiotics. Piece of cake.”

It hit Della why Louie wanted to showDonald his bug bite but not her… Louie was such a perceptive kid. He probablyknew Donald would be able to comfort him much better than she could. He didn’ttrust her. And seeing him cry into Donald’s shirt made her feel he was rightnot to trust her. She’d been home all this time, and as far as she could tell,she was still doing a terrible job.

“The nearest Urgent Care opens at nine,”Donald said. “If we leave now we can get there when they open, before it’sbusy. Have you had breakfast?”

“Uh-uh,” Louie shook his head and wipedhis face on his sleeve.

“Let’s grab something quick you can eaton the way.”

Donald ushered Louie back down the hallto head for the kitchen and Della stared after them a moment. Donald knewexactly what to do to take care of the kids when they were sick or scared. And I only make things worse...

“Good catch, Lass,” Scrooge interruptedher thoughts.

“Huh?”

“You spotted that infection before itmade him terribly sick. You’re getting him help.”

“And stressing him out instead ofcomforting him.”

“Well, that’s the tricky thing aboutkids… the same things can comfort some, but scare others. Joke about amputationif Dewey ever gets cellulitis. I’m sure he’d love te match his mum,” hechuckled. “But Louie… he’s a bit more… well, like Donald was.”

“Ah… yeah, that clears a few things up.”

Scrooge patted Della on the shoulder.

“Well, if you kids are going to thedoctor, I’m going te see if I can recruit the others to help in the attic. I’llsee ye when you get back.”

They were only behind one other personwhen they arrived at Urgent Care, so it wasn’t long before a nurse called Louieback and started taking his vitals and asking Donald and Della the reason forthe visit, whether he was allergic to any medications, whether he’d been tothis Urgent Care before, etc. Thank goodness for Donald… Della had no idea ifthe boys were allergic to any medications or if they’d been to this Urgent Careor not. There was so much she didn’t know about her boys’ childhoods andmedical histories.

The nurse left them alone, and a coupledull rounds of I-Spy later, the doctor came in. It didn’t take him long to cometo the same conclusion as Della.

“Yup, that’s cellulitis, alright… but hedoesn’t have a fever, so that’s good… no red line going up the leg… but I amconcerned with how fast it’s spreading, so in addition to oral and topicalantibiotics, I’m also going to give him a ceftriaxone injection.”

“‘Injection?!’”Louie’s eyes widened with terror and he scooted back on the exam table, thepaper beneath him crinkling in protest.

At the same time, Donald had leapt outof the chair beside Della’s and rushed to Louie’s side, holding his arms openfor Louie.

“It’s okay…” he tried to console him.

But this time, Louie didn’t seek comfortin his Uncle’s arms. “It’s not okay! He said ‘injection!’ That means needle!”He looked around Donald at the door and Donald shifted a few inches to blockhis view. He tried to look over Donald’s other shoulder, but Donald shiftedback. As Della watched them, she realized Donald didn’t rush to Louie’s sidewith arms outstretched to offer him a hug… Louie was a bolter.

When the doctor left to get theantibiotic, Louie slipped off the other side of the exam table.

“Louie…” Donald started.

“No! You can’t make me!”

Della stared at the base of the examtable where she knew Louie was curled up in fear just on the other side.Everything in her urged her to try and help, but how? What could she do? Shedidn’t want to make things worse all over again��� maybe the best thing to do wasto watch Donald and learn.

Donald didn’t think so. He pointed ather and nodded toward the door. Maintaining eye contact with her, he took astep like he was going to try going around the table to the other side. He wasgonna try to grab Louie but knew Louie would try to make a break for it.

Della exhaled silently and nodded, thentook her place by the door. Louiewould’ve heard that, she thought. Can’texactly be silent as a cat with a metal leg on a linoleum floor…

She hardly had time to wonder what Louiemight do instead of bolting out the door, but neither did Louie. Donald dashedto the other side of the table and reached for him. Louie screamed and ranstraight at Della in sheer panic, hands outstretched to grab the door handle.She bent down and wrapped her arms around him, but he squirmed wildly to getfree. Next thing Della knew, Donald was pulling Louie out of her arms.

“Thanks, I got ‘im,” he breathed.

But then Louie stepped hard on his foot.

“OW!”

Louie managed to grab the door handle,but Donald grabbed him. As he pulled Louie back, the door opened and Louiescreamed.

“HELP! HELP! THEY’RE GONNA STAB ME! IDON’T WANT A NEEDLE! I AM NOT CONSENTING TO THIS FORM OF TREATMENT!”

“Let go of the door!” Donald orderedwith his arms wrapped around Louie’s torso and legs, but as he pulled back, Louieonly opened the door wider, so he called for backup. “Della!”

“Baby, let go of the door…” she tried tosay in a tone as soothing as she could manage as she began to try pryingLouie’s fingers off the door handle. Dang,this kid is determined…

She managed to get one hand pried off,but as soon as she grabbed the second, he grabbed the door handle again withhis recently pried-off hand.

If only she could convince him the doorhandle was disgustingly germy, or… wait,that’s it!

She leaned over and licked the back ofhis hands.

“EW, GROSS! MOM GERMS!” he pulled hishands back. The door slammed shut and Donald swung him up on to the exam tableand held him down. Della ran around to the other side.

“Licking your kid’s hands in a doctor’soffice?” Donald asked her incredulously. She could tell he was impressed,though. “Isn’t that a health hazard?”

“How? What has he touched with the backs of his hands since we got here?”

Louie still fought against his uncle’shold on him. “I don’t want a needle! I don’t want it! Get me outta here!”

The door opened behind Donald and Louiecried and twisted to get free as the doctor stepped back in with a small traycontaining a syringe.

“LEMME GO LEMME GO LEMME GO!”

“Help me hold him!” Donald said.

Della’s chest ached seeing Louie in somuch distress. As tears dripped over the sides of his bill, her eyes began tosting, too.

“Della!”

She shook her head and tried to pushpast the pain of seeing her child like this. “Louie, baby, it’s okay…” shecooed as she reached for his arms. The plan was to hold his wrists and use herforearm to help hold down his torso, but the minute she gripped his arms, hescreamed.

“OW! YOU’RE HURTING ME!”

Della recoiled, but barely had enoughtime to wonder how that amount of pressure could have hurt him before Donaldsaid, “He’s lying! Don’t listen to him!”

Ofcourse he was… how could I have fallen for that? But as she looked back at his tear-dampened face, itdidn’t matter if he was lying about her hurting him. It wasn’t a lie that hewas scared out of his mind. Her insides twisted with every motion he made toget free.

“Okay, can you turn him over?” thedoctor asked.

“Wait, WHAT?!” Louie stopped jerking fora split second and Donald used that time to flip him onto his stomach. “ITHOUGHT IT’D BE A LEG SHOT OR AN ARM SHOT! YOU DIDN’T TELL ME IT WAS A BUTTSHOT!”

Della leaned over to hug Louie, but alsoto keep his upper body still while Donald held down his legs.

“It’s only a couple seconds, and thenyour bug bite’s gonna start getting better, okay?”

The smell of rubbing alcohol met hernose as the doctor cleaned the area around the intended injection site. As soonas he was done, Louie stopped fighting but continued to cry. She knew he wasn’tany calmer; he’d only switched from fight to freeze, possibly because he wasafraid of moving right as the doctor gave him the injection. Nevertheless,Della wanted to praise him for holding still.

“There you go, you’re doing great…”

“I THOUGHT YOU LOVED ME!”

Della gasped as though an ice colddagger pierced her heart, and then Louie screamed bloody murder as the doctoradministered the injection.

“All done!” the doctor said.

Louie continued to cry on the table. “Ithurts!”

“You’re all done, though,” Donald said,straightening up. “No more needles.”

Louie turned his head toward him. “Promise?”

“Promise.” Donald leaned over to kisshis forehead.

Della wanted to join in, but what couldshe say? Her son didn’t even think she loved him. Would he listen to anythingshe said? Or… maybe it had been just another trick of Louie’s? …but what if it hadn’t been?

The doctor told them what antibiotics hewas prescribing and when to give them to him, and Della tried to listen… butshe wasn’t catching any of what he said. Atleast the instructions will be on the tubes or bottles, she told herself.How Louie was feeling was far more important to her now.

She put her hand on his arm and heturned his head toward her, then rolled onto his side.

“It hurts,” he said again.

“I know it does.” She used her sleeve towipe away a tear on his cheek. “We’re gonna go home soon. We’ll get you somefood, a little ibuprofen, and Uncle Donald will pick up your medicine and youcan be lazy all day. How does that sound?”

He took a shuddering breath. “I don’twanna move…”

“Been there… when I was nine I had anallergic reaction to I-don’t-even-know, and I had to have a hydrocortisone shotin my butt, and Uncle Scrooge had to carry me afterwards.” She held her armsout to see if he wanted her to carry him.

Louie looked down at her arms, then backup at her. She was just starting to feel foolish and wondering if she shouldhave told him Donald could carry him instead when he reached out his armstoward her.

Back at home, Donald and Della got Louiesettled in his room with some lunch and gave him children’s ibuprofen. ThenDella put a folded bath towel under his leg and got a bowl of warm water, awash cloth, and a bit of soap to wash the infected area while Donald went topick up his medicine from the pharmacy. She drew two new lines – one around thered area and another around the pink, and she sat with him until Donald gotback. Donald gave Louie his first dose of the oral antibiotic as Della applieda liberal amount of prescription ointment to the bite. All the while, Louiecomplained about the injection site being sore. Donald checked the site, justto the left of Louie’s tail feathers, and he didn’t see any discoloration orcause for concern. Just to be safe though, he looked up this particularantibiotic injection online and found that aching and burning at the site andsurrounding area was a common side-effect.

“Yeah, and I already looked it up on myphone, too!” Louie said. “And apparently you don’t even need it if you treatcellulitis early! So thanks for putting me through all that for nothing!”

That evening, Donald found Dellawatching TV.

“Whatcha watchin’?” he asked. It hadbeen a commercial break, but it switched back immediately following hisquestion. “Oh… Ottoman Empire, huh?”

“Yeah. I’m trying to get into it sincethe boys like it so much, but… ottomans?”

Donald chuckled and sat on her right. “Aaaaandyou’re eating ice cream out of a tiny carton because…?”

“There were only like two scoops worthof ice cream left in the container.” She could feel Donald’s eyes on herthough, and when she looked up at him he had his brow raised. “Okay, fine! I’meating my feelings!” she shoveled the last couple spoonfuls into her mouth andthen grabbed her head. “GAHHH!” She spit the ice cream back into the container.

“Blech!” Donald recoiled. “Take it easy,you can’t eat that many feelings at once!”

Della groaned with her tongue pressed tothe roof of her mouth to fix her brain freeze.

“What feelings are you eating, anyway?”

“Mint chocolate chip.”

“Della…”

Della sighed. There wasn’t much usehiding stuff from Donald… not when it had to do with the boys. “I just… I hatenot having all this mom stuff figured out.” She set her ice cream on the coffeetable and brought her knees up. Donald brought his knees up, too until they wereboth nearly curled into the fetal position side-by-side, and she leaned againsthim. “It’s good to have you home.”

“Me?” Donald laughed.

“Yes you! Donald, it was awful… thefizzy rocks, and the gilded man, and then one time Huey lent me his JWG tocheck out all the cool things he added but then I lost it for a little bit andhis brain broke, and… how ‘bout neither of us ever go to the Moon again?”

“Deal,” he said, wrapping an arm aroundher. “It’s good to have you home, too… for a million reasons… but for today? I don’t think I could’ve managedLouie on my own. He’s getting bigger, and stronger, and I was really glad to haveyour help at the doctor’s office.”

“Aw, look at you two,” Scrooge said bythe armchair. Della turned her head. “Curled up together like ye were beforeyou hatched…”

Della hadn’t even realized she’d curledup against Donald. It was such a natural and instinctual thing for them to dowhile stressed. But gosh, did she miss it. She thought of the bench in front ofthe blackboard on the Spear of Seleneand how she used to sit on it sideways, curled up with her right side againstthe back as she held her family photo, and it just wasn’t the same.

“Louie seems te be improving,” Scroogelet them know as he took his seat in the armchair. “He’s up and getting readyfor bed, and he says it doesnae hurt that much to walk anymore. You both did agood job today.”

“So he’s not mad at me anymore?” Dellaasked.

“Well, of course he’s still mad! That’show ye know you’re doing something right!”

Della groaned and sat up to grab her icecream carton. “I am soooo gonna get fat during their teenage years,” she saidbefore eating a half-melted spoonful, nestled against Donald’s side.

“Not the way you burn calories, you spaz,” Donald said.

“Listen, Lass,” Scrooge said. “Ye cannaeaim to keep your kids happy with ye all the time. Sometimes when you do what’sbest for them, it makes them unhappy. Do what’s best anyway. Bottom line is,you two working together saved Louie’s life today, an’ I’m proud of ye.”

Della had finished her last bit of icecream, but held the spoon in her mouth for a few seconds as her eyes welled up.She couldn’t hold her tears back for long, however, and she dropped her spoonin the empty carton and wiped her eyes on her sleeve.

“Aww… come now, Della,” Scrooge said asDonald wrapped both his arms around her and rested his head on hers. She andDonald both curled up tighter. “What are ye crying for?”

“You gave me more feelings and I ran outof the edible kind!” she held the empty carton aloft.

But she wasn’t complaining. The truthwas, in that moment, she felt she belonged… and that all was right in theworld. And she wanted to cherish that moment as long as she could.

Author’s Notes:lol You and @alliterative-albatross sent the same prompt. XD That made things easier.This wound up being a much longer fic than I thought, but I had the idea for this in my head a while so I figured, why not?

[kelpiesedge]

Calling all YA fans! We have a special early Christmas present for you! Award-winning author Claire McFall has written a brand new chapter in the Ferryman saga! Read on to find out what exactly happened at Dylan’s Christmas Dance. 

Look out for the series finale, Outcasts, in March 2019!

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It was snowing. Not the beautiful, pristine blanket of white that glistened in Christmas movies; this was more wet, slushy, gross snow, churned up and muddied by cars on the road and then spat onto the pavement. Which was why Dylan was wearing a glittering, purple party dress… and wellingtons.

She had her shoes in a plastic bag, though, her fingers clinging to the handles and slowly going numb thanks to the cold night air. Her other hand was toasty warm, tucked into Tristan’s. Dylan peeked at him out of the corner of her eye. She’d tried to talk him into hiring a kilt for the dance, but he’d balked at the idea of donning “a skirt” and instead was dressed in his black school trousers and a dark blue shirt that made his eyes seem to glow in an unearthly way. He’d hacked at his long hair the week before, instructing a barber to cut it tight to the sides of his head, leaving a deliberate disarray of spikes on top. Dylan had been horrified as she’d sat in the waiting area of the hairdressers – she loved running her fingers through his hair – but Tristan said he was sick of it getting in the way. It had been a shock at first, but now that Dylan had grown accustomed to his new shorn look, she had to admit it suited him. It emphasised the angles of his face, gave him a leaner, fiercer look.

She grinned, shaking her head at him when he eyed her quizzically. She wanted to pinch herself. She, Dylan McKenzie, was heading to a Christmas dance, hand in hand with the best-looking boy at school; the best-looking boy in Glasgow (or anywhere, really). Loving that fact was shallow, and she’d never admit it out loud – she pressed her lips together tightly and just smiled when Tristan followed up his look with a questioning squeeze of her hand – but she did love it. A year ago she’d never have dreamt she could experience this kind of happiness.

The only thing marring her evening was she couldn’t tell anyone the boy beside her was all hers. To everyone else at Kaithshall Academy, she and Tristan were cousins.

As they got close to the school, she gently disengaged their fingers. And felt the loss immediately – not just because it was cold. Tristan tried to regain her hand, but she dodged his searching fingers.

“People will see,” she murmured.

“So?” Tristan replied, though she knew he wasn’t serious. They’d had this discussion several times before.

There was a queue to get into the school, tickets once again being carefully checked – and rechecked – by the industrious McManus. He glowered indiscriminately, Scrooge standing in the way of all the Christmas fun.

“What’s in the bag?” he demanded when it was Dylan and Tristan’s turn to present their tickets. “Are you trying to sneak alcohol into a school event, young lady?”

“It’s my shoes,” Dylan answered, holding the bag open for him to inspect.

He peered in, like the contents might jump out and attack him, pursing his lips disapprovingly at the pair of spike-heeled sandals that Dylan had bought in a moment of madness and was now dreading having to dance in.

“Hmmm. And you?” He scowled at Tristan, who was wearing a thin jacket over his shirt. Tristan just stared back at him, refusing to be cowed – or searched – and to Dylan’s delight McManus backed down first, raising a disgruntled arm towards the entrance. Dylan suppressed her smile as they hurried inside. She had the feeling the bad-tempered history teacher considered every pupil he was forced to admit a personal affront.

A giant Christmas tree dominated the school’s reception area. It stood at a slightly drunken angle, and the baubles and tinsel had been thrown on in a haphazard, uneven fashion, but the lights twinkled merrily. Along with the jaunty Christmas music filtering in from the assembly hall, it gave Dylan a sparkly, festive feeling.

Or maybe that was the glass of very spiked eggnog that her dad had slipped into both their hands while her mum tried to organise pictures in front of the fireplace.

“Come on,” Dylan said, grabbing Tristan’s arm and tugging him along towards the cloakroom. They both ditched their jackets and Dylan yanked off her wellingtons with relief. Hanging on to Tristan for balance, she slipped her shoes on and stood up in them experimentally. They’d been fine in the confines of her bedroom and she thought she’d be okay – so long as she stayed in this exact spot and didn’t try to make any sudden movements.

“These may have been a mistake,” she admitted to Tristan.

“It’s all right,” he grinned back at her. “I’ll stay close by, so that if you fall, it’ll be straight into my arms.”

Dylan snorted. “That’s an awful line,” she grimaced.

“Sorry.” Tristan’s eyes twinkled, completely unrepentant. “I blame your dad’s eggnog. What the hell was in that?”

“Brandy,” Dylan told him. “Eggs and cream… but mostly brandy. Come on, let’s go check out the hall.”

The music got louder as they entered, belted-out Slade lyrics competing with the din of several-hundred teenagers crammed into the space.

“I thought you said this would be country dancing?” Tristan shouted.

Though most of the young people in the hall were crowded around the chairs that lined the room, a fair few – mostly girls – were in the middle, moving, well, more accurately, gyrating to the music. The headteacher, standing by the refreshments table like a bouncer, was looking distinctly pale, probably at the thought of wading into the middle of the scantily clad group and trying to enforce school-appropriate dance moves. Good luck with that, Dylan thought.

“It is,” Dylan shouted back, taking wicked delight in crushing the relief on Tristan’s face. “See?” she pointed, “The ceilidh band’s setting up. It’ll start in a minute.”

“Great,” Tristan monotoned, and Dylan laughed.

“Say it like you mean it!” she told him, amused.

They’d had several country dancing lessons in PE over the last few weeks. For Dylan, who’d been forced to practise the set pieces since primary school, it was nothing new, or special. She was just delighted to have someone to dance with – the people who couldn’t find a partner had to pair up with a teacher. Tristan, on the other hand, hated it.

It was strange. Normally, he moved confidently, gracefully; he was at ease with his body. At the Halloween dance, he’d burled Dylan around like he’d spent every day doing it. But apparently, doing a pas de basque was completely beyond him, and the progressive dances – where you had to keep changing partners – utterly baffled him. Dylan found it endearing – and hilarious. For once, she was the leader and not the klutz.

“Promise me I’ll only have to dance with you,” Tristan pleaded.

“I promise,” Dylan replied, “I don’t think it would be right to inflict you on anyone else anyway!”

She certainly didn’t want him dancing with Cheryl, or Steph, or any of their moronic friends. The whole bunch of them were, of course, in the thick of the writhing, dancing bodies.

The song ended and, instead of the thumping bass of another pop song, the screech of fiddles and an accordion pierced the sudden quiet.

“All right!” Mrs Peters, the Head of PE, clambered up onto the stage, microphone in hand. “Pairs on the dance floor for a Gay Gordon!”

“You know this one!” Dylan exclaimed.

“Yippee!” Tristan deadpanned.

Feeling light and happy enough that she was all but bouncing on her overly high heels, Dylan hauled Tristan onto the dance floor. Positioning herself in front of him, she grabbed his hands, placing one down by her side and the other over her shoulder.

“Just watch everybody else and do what they do,” she instructed. “You’ll be fine.”

Tristan nodded, expression grim. He looked like a prisoner about to face the walk to the executioner’s chair.

“I love you,” she told him, unable to contain her smile in the face of his misery.

“Humph,” he said.

If they weren’t surrounded by half the school – and if they weren’t supposedly cousins – she’d have kissed him.

The music changed into the rhythm for the dance and they started forwards.

“Forward two, three, four.” She twisted, tugging Tristan’s hands to make him do the same. “Back two, three, four. Forward two, three, four.” Twist. “Back two, three, four. Now,” she dropped one of his hands, “just walk.” Putting all of her weight on the ball of her foot, she spun beneath Tristan’s arm. “Okay, waltz! Round and round and round we go, ready to start again!”

By the third time through, Tristan had it, and Dylan was able to stop her muttered instructions and just enjoy the flow of dancing with him. His warm hands, the strength of his body when he held her, his martyred expression…

“See?” she commented when the music stopped. “You can do it!”

“Great. Please tell me we can spend the rest of the night sitting on one of those lovely comfy chairs over there. Or better yet, find some quiet, dark corner where we can—”

“Right folks, next up is a Strip the Willow. Everybody into sets of eight, please.”

Strip the Willow – Dylan’s absolute favourite. Spinning, twirling and burling – and if your feet didn’t leave the floor you weren’t doing it right. She bit her lip and eyed Tristan hopefully. He looked at her, then at the chairs, then at the dance floor. Heaving a sigh, he turned and wordlessly led her towards the chaos of pupils trying to get into position.

Dylan got Tristan through a Strip the Willow, a Canadian Barn Dance and even a Dashing White Sergeant, though he was clearly unimpressed that he had to share her with Robbie Muldoon from their science class for that one.

The next dance, a quickstep, was a progressive and Dylan gave in to the horrified (and terrified) look on Tristan’s face and let him drag her out of the hall. They bypassed the queue for the toilets and Tristan tugged her a little way up the technical corridor. This was out of bounds, the lights off, but he shouldered through the double doors until they were encased in near-night darkness.

“Tristan! What are we doing here?”

“Guess,” Tristan replied, nudging Dylan over until her back was to the wall and he was towering over her. “I want to collect my reward.”

Dylan smiled, her hands finding Tristan’s in the dark. That was how she’d enticed him here in the first place, promising a kiss for every dance he survived.

“If we get caught—”

“We won’t,” he promised. “Now, by my count that was four dances, and I think I deserve double for that last one.”

“Hmmm. Maybe…” Dylan lifted herself up until her nose was level with his chin – Tristan was too tall for her to get any higher.

“Will this convince you?” He pulled something out of his pocket and dangled it above Dylan’s head.

“What on earth is it?” Dylan peered in the dark.

“Mistletoe,” Tristan said, looking pleased with himself.

“Where did you get mistletoe?” Dylan snatched it out of the air, felt the hard, unyielding shape of it. “This is plastic! It totally doesn’t count!”

“Use your imagination,” Tristan insisted. He plucked it out of her hand and held it once more over her head, his expression aggrieved.  

“You’re adorable,” Dylan told him, grinning. She kissed his jaw, all she could reach until he dropped his head and pressed his mouth to hers. He kissed her until she ran out of breath and was forced to pull away.

“Merry Christmas,” she whispered. “Your first Christmas,” a bubble of laughter, “and your first Christmas dance.”

“Merry Christmas,” he whispered back. “My first Christmas… and hopefully my last Christmas dance!”

“We’ll see,” Dylan hedged. “I’ll sneak you more eggnog when we get home.”

“I’ll need it,” he grumbled.

The soft strains of music changed and Dylan turned her head.  

“Tristan!” she said. “It’s the Flying Scotsman. Come on, we have to do this one! Please!”

He groaned, burying his face in her neck, but he let her lead him back down to the hall and out onto the floor where they joined the throng preparing for the dance.

Her heart lifted at the whirling to come. Standing opposite Tristan, waiting to start, Dylan felt her throat tighten and her eyes glisten. He looked stoic, resigned… and pretty miserable. And he was doing it for her, because he loved her. It was a gift beyond measure. 

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Hungry for more? Both Trespassers and Ferryman are available to buy now! Get your copy for Christmas here! 

(And look out for the series finale, Outcasts, in March 2019!

[robronsecretsanta]

Every Day’s a Holiday When I’m Near to You

For @aarobron. Merry Christmas, darling!

“Now I know what a fool I’ve been, but if you kissed me now I know you’d fool me again!”

Aaron squeezed his eyes tightly, fighting against the pull of the day’s beginning as he dropped his face to the dining table and groaned. This was the fifth day in a row that Aaron had been woken up by the overly cheery music and warbled voice coming from his neighbor’s flat.

It wouldn’t be so bad if it were just the music. Aaron actually quite liked holiday music, so long as it didn’t start well before December. And with Christmas only a few days away, he’d do well with letting it set the mood.

But no. There had to be singing. Loud, out-of-tune singing with the lyrics mixed around every which way that barely resembled the song that played along. He thought once or twice about going over there and telling the bloke to shut it off, but according to Belle that made him a “scrooge” that was set out to “ruin Christmas.” Plus, it wasn’t like this was an irregular occurrence. 12B had been blasting music since October, and while Aaron had begged for it to be a phase, it seemed more likely the guy had just gotten too comfortable.

Honestly, Aaron felt worse for whoever lived in 12A below the bloke. While the singing was bad, Aaron would bet his life’s savings that he was almost certainly dancing along, and Aaron wouldn’t wish that particular rendition of Stomp the Yard on anyone.

So he was dealing with it.

Really. He was absolutely –

“I really can’t stay – But baby, it’s cold outside –”

– 100% –

“I’ve got to go away – But baby, it’s cold outside –”

– without a doubt –

“This evening has – Been hopin’ that you’d – So very ni- I’ll hold your hands…”

– not dealing with this shit.

He pushed himself away from the table, his dining chair squeaking against the linoleum as he abandoned the cereal he had been attempting to eat, and made a bee-line out into the hall. He barely paid any mind to the fact that he was technically still in his pajamas – socked feet and all – as he pounded on the door. From the hallway, Aaron could only just hear the faint crooning of Dean Martin – a far cry from the 24/7 rave he did not sign up for being channeled through to his own flat.

He waited a beat, and then another, before raising his fist again, nearly clocking the guy when the door finally opened.

“Whoa!” the man said, leaning back to avoid contact. His eyes widened with the movement and Aaron could barely register enough to drop his hand awkwardly to his side as he looked the man over.

Aaron had seen him before – of course he had. They lived next door to each other, it was bound to happen – but for whatever reason he never really looked at him. He mustn’t have because there is no way Aaron would’ve forgotten that face.

He was pretty, in a way. Not immediately feminine in his features, but something about the way his face relaxed into a confused smile and the slope of his hair which contradicted with his broad shoulders and obvious presence he exuded short-circuited Aaron’s brain and all he could think was pretty.

And then the music floated out into the hallway and the annoyance crept back in. “Do you know what time it is?” Aaron asked, and the confused smile on pretty boy’s face turned into a small frown as he blinked at Aaron.

“Sorry?” he asked, and great even his speaking voice was pretty.

Pull yourself together, he thought to himself as he jut his chin out.

“It’s half 8 in the morning, mate. What are you doin’ listenin’ to music this loud this early?”

Suddenly, like a switch had been flicked, pretty’s boy’s face got decidedly less pretty and much more like the cat that got the cream as he stood to his full height and leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms. “Oh, sorry. Am I bothering you?” he asked sardonically, and now it was Aaron’s turn to look confused.

“No, actually. I quite like being woken up to three different versions of Sleigh Bells on me day off when it’s two below,” Aaron bit back. He’d never been one to hold back his sarcasm - he was too much like his mum that way – but something about this man made him want to both tear off all his clothes and also rip him a new one, and it’d only been two minutes.

The mad nodded slowly, taking his turn to look Aaron up and down before leaning in just enough for Aaron to unconsciously lean forward with him. “Then it looks like it’s finally worked,” the man stage-whispered as if he were revealing a long-held secret to Aaron.

Aaron shifted in place, the chill from the empty hallway nipping at his fingertips. “Worked? What worked?”

“D'you know these walls,” the man started, knocking the wall beside him, “work both ways?” Aaron was silent, but the man didn’t leave much time for Aaron to answer anyway. “You fidget when you talk on the phone, for starters. And, you know, that shouldn’t bother me seeing as I’m not in the room with you, yet you still manage to make it my problem. You kick the baseboards and scrape God knows what across the walls. You’ve nearly put a hole through the wall twice from what I can only assume is a game controller. And on top of it all, every single time I’ve tried to make conversation with you, you put those damn earbuds in,” the man ranted, gesturing vaguely at Aaron throughout.

And, okay, maybe Aaron did tend to kick the dirt off his shoes by thumping his heel against the wall and maybe he had gotten into the bad habit of scraping capped pens and Sharpies across the wall as he paced while he cooked dinner. And, hey, technically both of the Wii incidents were his mates getting far too into virtual bowling, not him.

But the headphones?

“You’ve never said two words to me before now, don’t start,” he argued.

“Just yesterday I said hello to you after I held the front door open and you just stuffed those earbuds in and jogged off.”

Aaron spluttered. “No, you were arguing with someone over your Bluetooth and barely paying me any mind.”

“Doesn’t mean I didn’t still say hello!” the man said, now defensive.

“What does it matter anyway? Turn your music down,” Aaron ordered, stepping back to shuffle back to his own flat.

“I’ve only got this music on because I figured it was the only thing you cared about.”

Aaron paused. “What d'you mean by that?”

“Well, not only are your earbuds rude, they also leak. Heard you listenin’ to that Joywave song a while back. Had to Google it, actually. ’S not bad.” The man paused and Aaron stared at him blankly. The man rolled his eyes. “Anyway, so I started playing it over my speakers. Didn’t know what genre you liked, so I sampled it all.”

Aaron was quiet for a moment, running the conversation back through before he settled on asking, “So all that Bret Michaels from before?”

“Awful,” the man confessed.

“And the Amy Winehouse back in November?” Aaron asked, a smile slowly taking over as he came to his realization.

“I actually quite liked that.”

“Huh, thought you were just going through some bad breakup or summat. Called it your ‘blue period,’” Aaron teased, and the other man’s smile widened along.

“And now this,” his neighbor said, gesturing behind himself to his flat. “Who knew all it’d take for you to talk to me was driving myself slowly insane with the same five Christmas songs over and over?”

Aaron frowned. “You thought I’d like Bret Michaels?” Aaron questioned, somehow less appalled than he felt he should have been.

“How was I supposed to know?” he defended.

Aaron tucked his chin to his chest as he huffed a laugh, squeezing his arms as he crossed them over his chest. The cold was getting too much, and even the warmth of his neighbor’s accompanying laugh couldn’t make up for it.

Lifting his gaze, he pointed at the other man. “Turn it down. For both of our sakes.” He turned finally, catching the shout, “I’m Robert, by the way!” and sending his own, “Aaron!” back before shutting his door, thumping the conjoining wall once when the music finally turned down.

********

The following days passed without much fanfare. Aaron would exaggeratedly pull out his earbuds whenever they passed each other on the stairs, and Robert would give him a pointed “Good morning, Aaron” but nothing more.

Aaron was alright with taking this – whatever this was – slowly. Robert was exciting in a way so many people couldn’t compare to. He didn’t know how he hadn’t noticed before, but Robert filled every space he existed in.

The cramped stairwell would echo with his voice as the wood saturated with the hints of his cologne. The walls would speak to him with Robert’s movements throughout his own flat and the much softer music that flowed through the spaces between them.

He almost regretted that he was going home for Christmas. He had just gotten a taste for what a world with Robert in it felt like, he wasn’t ready to be rid of it for two weeks.

And as if the gods had heard him, Aaron’s phone rang just as he was lacing up his shoes for his evening jog.

“Hiya, mum,” Aaron answered as he plopped himself down on the floor.

“Aaron! How are you, love? You alright?” Chas asked, cheery as ever.

“Fine, yeah. Can’t wait to go home, though. It’s not felt like Christmas yet without you.”

“Right,” Chas said, her voice now hesitant and saccharine, “about that.”

“No, mum-” Aaron started, his shoulders already dropping as he prepared himself for whatever excuse she was about to give him. He should’ve expected it, really. Ever since his mum had gotten that new 30 something boyfriend, she’d been harder to catch than smoke.

“Oh, it’s just that he’s surprised me with tickets to the Canary Islands is all! Proper romantic he is,” Chas gushed.

“What about me, then? What am I meant to do?” Aaron asked, his voice getting whiny in a way that only his mother knew how to bring out.

“You can still come home, love! Lisa and the rest of the lot will be more than happy to see you, you know that.”

“It’s not the same without you, you know that,” Aaron countered.

“Then go see Liv! She’s up with Sandra this year, yeah?” Chas suggested but Aaron just rolled his eyes and muttered out a “no thanks.”

“Oh, love. I’m sorry about this. But I’ll make it up to you for your birthday, don’t you worry!” Chas said, her tone now turning whiny itself as she begged for Aaron to understand.

“Yeah, alright. Well I’ll see you next year then,” Aaron said, already having given up. With a few more platitudes and promises, Aaron finally ended the call and laid himself flat on the floor, tossing his phone at the wall. After a few seconds, a small knock came from Robert’s side, and without a word, Aaron knew what it meant.

Are you okay?

I’m fine, Aaron said back with a knock of his own, biting his tongue against words he wished he could have said instead.

********

Waking up Christmas Eve to a silent flat was eerie. For 24 years he’d been greeted by the front door opening and closing 50 times over as family members he forgot he even had made their way home for the holidays, paired with obnoxiously loud voices and the screams of the youngest children at all the attention they received. Christmas was cacophonous and overwhelming and filled with more love than Aaron could even comprehend.

But this? This was a room shrouded in shadows that sent a buzz through his ears, with limbs too cold to shift more than an inch out of place. Part of him kicked himself for chiding Robert for his music. He hadn’t realized how dependent he had become on Robert’s garbled singing – wailing, more like – and now the silence felt tangible.

He’d barely gotten the idea into his head before he was throwing on his socks and hoodie and making the now familiar shuffle from his front door to Robert’s. He leaned in to listen closely for footsteps when the beats between lasted too long, and knocked again, much too loud for the lazy Sunday morning. A crash from inside Robert’s flat startled him before the door opened, a wide-eyed and  –  

Oh.

– wet Robert answered the door, his hair flat against his forehead and towel wrapped haphazardly around his waist.

“Uh-” Aaron started but Robert cut him off.

“What’re you doin’ knocking like that? Bloody thought it was the SWAT team busting their way in!” Robert said, moving back into his flat, apparently expecting Aaron to follow him inside. Aaron, now completely incoherent and nearly cracking his jaw to keep it clenched, stepped in, his eyes darting everywhere from the minimalist deco, Robert’s chest, the single vanilla candle lit on the dining table, the droplets falling from Robert’s hair as he turned with a mumble back into the bathroom, and the complete lack of anything festive throughout the whole of the space.

Aaron shook himself and frowned at the emptiness of the room. Making up his mind, he turned about-face right out the door, shutting it softly behind himself. Before he knew it, he had made his way to Homebase and was now carting about discounted tinsel and baubles and a plastic evergreen that reached to his chest.

Two hours later Aaron was making his way back up to Robert’s doorstep, dumping the overflown bags down with a thud as he panted, knocking much more civilly on the door. When Robert answered, Aaron pushed past him into the flat, dragging the bags along with him, the baubles rattling along with the movement. He felt a hand on his arm before he was spun around, Robert’s hands now on either shoulder as he looked him up and down.

“What’re you doin’?” Aaron asked, feeling his skin prickle from the attention.

“Checking you over. You left here so quickly I thought you’d been Raptured,” Robert said, tone obviously sarcastic but still with a hint of hesitance in the softness of his voice.

Aaron felt dizzy from the warmth of Robert’s hands on his still-chilled arms, and with the mix of vanilla and aftershave that Aaron was growing to identify as purely Robert, he put on a grin and ducked out of his hold. “Brought you these,” he said, kicking the side of one of the bags gently before bending down to rifle through them.

The tree had been the heaviest. It broke down into three pieces that Aaron would need to assemble, but the box itself was awkward and had ripped one of the bags on the car ride back. He dragged his key over the Sellotape that held the box together, cutting it open and got to work.

“Honestly, mate. Even I’ve got a tabletop tree and an advent up. This place is just sad,” Aaron said, gesturing to the whole of Robert’s living room.

“You bought me Christmas decorations?” Robert asked incredulously, reaching over Aaron to hold up the package of string lights Aaron had bought at 50% off.

Aaron stopped fiddling with the branches to look up at Robert, suddenly acutely aware that he was sitting on Robert’s floor, getting bits of tinsel and glitter on the carpet. “Sorry, I just – I just assumed you weren’t doin’ anythin’ for Christmas tomorrow seein’ as you’re here alone and not off with your family or anyone.” Aaron looked down at himself, feeling the embarrassment crawl up his spine. “I, err –” Aaron stuttered, pushing himself up and pulled everything back into their respective bags.

“Aaron,” Robert said, but Aaron barely gave himself a chance to think as he shoved everything away.

“I’m so sorry –”

“Aaron,” Robert said again with more force, and something about the smile in his voice made Aaron stop and look over at him again.

Robert took the half-undone top of the tree from Aaron with a breathy laugh. “Thank you, for all this. I mean it,” Robert said when Aaron went to interrupt. “You’re right, I was planning on ordering in Chinese and marathoning old episodes of Strictly. I’d much prefer to do it in the company of these lights.”

Aaron let out a breath quietly, steadying himself from the sincerity in Robert’s eyes. “This is the first year I’m not goin’ home for Christmas. I figured I would try to at least make it better for you.”

Before Aaron could even think to react, Robert leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek, almost nothing more than the scratch of Aaron’s stubble against his lips before Robert pulled back. Robert laughed at himself nervously before holding the tree back up. “Need help with this?” he asked, and Aaron was grateful for the chance to breathe as Robert turned around and fiddled with the tree stand.

Minutes passed of silent unboxing and unraveling before Robert turned on his infamous Christmas playlist, and Aaron felt the tension ease away from his body until he was nudging Robert with socked feet after one-too-many horrible puns, the scent of vanilla surrounding him as they took turns shoddily pinning the lights to Robert’s wall with thumbtacks and turning the flat into a gaudy mess. Aaron had slumped himself down onto Robert’s couch as he watched the sun set and cast shadows around Robert’s silhouette as the other man took photos of his tree to send to his sister.

“I love my sister and all, but she’s got two kids and a husband she’s way too good for. Didn’t really fancy spending my holiday with that, ta,” Robert had explained when Aaron rose an eyebrow at the mention of Victoria.

He felt himself blinking slowly, and knew he needed to leave before he started yawning. He righted himself and walked to Robert, grazing his hand on his hip in passing. “I’m gonna get out of here. Any longer I might pass out your couch,” Aaron said.

“Well my bed’s fine too, if you’d prefer that,” Robert said lowly.

“Bants,” Aaron said with a roll of his eyes. “But really, Merry Christmas an’ all.”

Aaron made his way through Robert’s flat before he heard Robert call out, “If you aren’t busy tomorrow, you should come over. Don’t want to put all this to waste.” Robert gestured around himself and Aaron let himself take in the sight.

Robert wore jogging bottoms and a plain t-shirt – having changed his clothes when Aaron complained that he was making Aaron feel stuffy – and his face was cast in a yellow glow from the string lights above him, giving him a halo effect as it broke through his hair. He looked younger like this, still very much a presence, but one that didn’t command the space as much as Aaron was used to. Aaron gave him a wink before heading back to his own flat, pretending not to notice the way the shadows here didn’t speak to him like they had just 20 steps away.

********

“Headphones?” Aaron asked as he looked the box in his hands over, the gift wrapping discarded to the floor. He was sat cross-legged on Robert’s couch, not having bothered to change out of his pajamas before coming over Christmas morning. Robert sat on the floor in front of him, rising to his knees to look the present over with Aaron.

“Noise-cancelling. Your other ones were cheap and anyone passing could hear your music. These should be secure enough for you to still jog with if you’d like without broadcasting to the world your music tastes,” Robert clarified.

“When’d you buy these?” Aaron asked as he struggled with the packaging, ultimately laying it onto the seat beside him to worry about later.

“Err, day after you came over here harassing me for my music,” Robert answered, and Aaron gave him a pointed look but said nothing about his word choice.

They were listening to said music now, Michael Bublé butchering the lyrics to Santa Baby as Aaron pulled the sleeves of his hoodie over his hands while he watched Robert unwrap his own gift.

“A flashdrive?” Robert questioned.

“Go on, then. Plug it in,” Aaron urged, jutting his chin out to Robert’s laptop.

“Alright, but if this is some sort of super virus, I promise all I’ve got on this thing are spreadsheets and pictures of my nieces,” Robert said as he plugged the USB in.

“Nah, I’m planning more of a long-con on you. You’re safe for now,” Aaron teased, biting down on a smile when Robert lifted his brow in mock-suspicion.

They spent the rest of the morning listening to bits of the music Aaron had uploaded to the drive –

“Are you trying to tell me something with this?” Robert had asked as he scrolled down the song list.

“If I’m meant to hear your music into the new year, might as well have it be good music.”

“Are you saying my music isn’t good enough for you?”

“I’m sayin’ if I leave you alone with this, I’ll be listening to that Call Me Maybe song on repeat,” Aaron had answered, and Robert had feigned shock.

“Carly Rae Jepsen is the new queen of pop. Or, so I’ve been told, I mean,” Robert clarified as his voice had dropped to a mumble.

– while leaning against each other on the floor, propped up against the couch.

It wasn’t what Aaron was used to. Christmas had always meant screaming children, way too much food, paper hats that his family insisted he wear, and more shouting and booze to last a normal family an entire year. But this? With Robert’s knees knocking into his own as they teased and fought over his laptop with the promise of something more hanging on every glance?

Aaron wouldn’t mind making new traditions for this.

[blueboxesandtrafficcones]

Light in the Dark

Day 9 of 31 Days of Ficmas!  @doctorroseprompts  Thanks to @paigenotblank for the prompt!  I hope this is enough ‘…’ for you, lol. NSFW

@timepetalsprompts bingo squares - Piper - tongue-touched smile; characters - Capaldi’s eyebrows, every Doctor loving Rose

Ficmas Masterlist 2017, Day 9

AO3

“Bloody hell, you’re a Scrooge this time around,” Rose glared across the galley table at her husband, who glared right back.

“Rose, the TARDIS exists throughout all of time – I don’t see why we have to celebrate Christmas next week on board.  We can stop by any Christmas any time you like, but must we decorate?”

Arms folded on the table, he leaned forward, possibly trying to look more intimidating.  Though his eyebrows could cow almost anyone, they’d been together long enough for her to barely notice even them.

“Yes.  I promised Mum – stop it – I promised I would still celebrate our traditions and the holidays, on a reasonably annual basis.  I know it’s been at least two years since we last did, and I want to now.”

“No.”

They had a short staring contest, before Rose caved.

“Fine.  I’m going to go read.”

“I’ve got some maintenance to do.”  Satisfied the matter was resolved in his favor, he kissed his wife and headed for the console room.

“Idiot,” she smirked, watching him go.  It amused her that after all this time, he still could be so oblivious, especially when she gave in so easily.

Whistling, she headed off in the direction of their bedroom, already working on a plan.

-

“Rose?”

Two hours later, the Doctor slunk into their bedroom in surrender.  The TARDIS had weighed in on their debate, and unsurprisingly taken Rose’s side; the entire time he tried to work she played nothing but the most cheerful Christmas carols possible, shocking him often.  He could badger one or the other into submission, but not both, and he knew when he was beat.  “I’m sorry love, I’ve changed my mind.  You can decorate, if you like.  Within reason.”

Looking up from his wedding ring, the first thing he saw was the hundreds of Christmas lights strung all around the room.  There were two rows along the wall and the doorways to the bathroom and closet were outlined, as was all the furniture, including their four poster bed.

Turning his attention to it, his jaw dropped to see his wife kneeling at the end of the mattress, wearing… something.

It appeared to be no more than several sheer pieces of fabric in a red and white pattern, hiding absolutely nothing.  There was a Santa hat with a bell perched jauntily on her head, and it jingled when she moved.

“Oh, all right.  Guess I won’t need to persuade you, then,” Rose sighed, sitting back on her heels and reaching up to take off the hat.

“No!” he blurted, crossing the room in several quick strides to grab her hand and hold it in place above her head.

Rose looked up at him, tongue poking out the side of her mouth.  “What?”

He groaned softly at the sight, uncomfortably aroused.

“Doctor, what?”  She looked at him with wide, innocent eyes that directly contrasted her skimpy attire.

“You’re right, you don’t need to persuade me,” he murmured, voice husky as he ran his hungry gaze over her.

“Which means I don’t need the outfit anymore,” she mused.

“Let me help you take it off,” he offered generously, finally letting go of her hand to bring both of his to her hips, fingertips rubbing light circles on her skin through the material.

Rose threw her head back and laughed with delight, and he was mesmerized at how her breasts jiggled in the flimsy cups of the outfit.

“You’re so gorgeous,” the Doctor told her softly, one hand moving to massage her breast.

“I can’t say anything to your face, cause look at your face,” she muttered back, bursting into another round of giggles at his blank look.  “It’s a song,” she told him, and he rolled his eyes.

“Rose.”

“All right,” she agreed, rising back up on her knees to kiss him.

“All right what?”  He asked, long seconds later when she had to pull back for air.

“You can take it off me.” She rained kisses over his face, pressing her chest against his.

“Okay.”  He blinked his eyes, trying to focus on anything other than her mouth.  “Right.”

Bringing his hands up from her hips, the Doctor roamed them across her back and sides, searching for a seam.

“You just pull it over my head,” Rose told him, raising her hands in the air.  He did so, leaving her naked but for the tiny thong.

“I like this,” he commented as he balled the material up and tossed it over his shoulder.

“Thought you might,” she smirked, reaching up to remove the hat.

“No, keep it,” he carefully readjusted it, bringing his hands down to cover her breasts, kneading softly at the flesh.

“Kinky,” she teased, arching her back and pressing her chest into his hands.

“Maybe,” he allowed, “but I don’t care – do you?”

“Nope.”  She shook her head, making the bell on the hat jangle cheerfully.

He leaned forward, kissing her softly as he touched her, lips and tongues meeting again and again as the passion built.  Shuffling forward to the very end of the bed, Rose pressed her hips against her husband’s, delighting in the feel of him hardening against her stomach.  Reaching down, she squeezed him through his trousers, wrenching a groan from him.

“You’re wearing too much clothing,” Rose told him, rubbing at him.

“Then do something about it,” he retorted, moving one hand around her back before sliding it down and over her buttocks to caress her from behind, sliding the string aside to coat his fingers in her slickness.

She grunted, rocking her hips slightly in an attempt to get his fingers where she wanted them as she undid his trousers, pushing them and his pants down his hips until he bobbed free.

In thanks he slid his hand forward, easing two fingers inside her; she reciprocated by taking him in hand again,  pumping with a light fist as their hips began to rock against each other.

The room was silent but for their sighs and moans, and the wet sound of his fingers pumping inside of her. Rolling her shoulders back, Rose closed her eyes and focused on pleasing her husband even as she ground down on his fingers.

It wasn’t long until she began to let out a continuous whine, her hand stuttering against him as her focus shifted to the pleasure building inside her.  No longer being distracted, the Doctor devoted his attention to get Rose off, bringing his other hand down between them to rub at her. The combined sensations sent her hurtling over the edge, slumping against him with a cry as she came.

Panting harshly against the Doctor’s shoulder, Rose slowly came down to earth to realize he was thrusting into her light fist, desperately searching for his own relief.  Not moving from her position against his shoulder, she tightened her grip and began working him in earnest, quickly bringing him to his own release against her stomach.

“Wow,” he groaned, settling his hands back on her hips.

“Yeah,” she agreed breathlessly.  “You should strip.”

“Uh huh.”  He didn’t move for several seconds, before pulling away with a sigh and removing his clothing until he was naked in front of her.

The Doctor moved back towards her, but she stopped him with a raised hand, taking the time to study his body.  It hadn’t been too long at all since he regenerated, and she hadn’t had much opportunity to explore his new body.

“Everything all right?” He eventually asked, watching her stare at his cock.  Just her gaze was enough to bring it back to life.

“Perfect,” she smiled, looking up at him.  “As a matter of fact,” she trailed off, climbing down off the bed to kneel in front of him, “I think we still need to do some bonding.”

“Is that so?”  He reached out one hand to steady himself against the bedpost, the other holding her head through the hat.

“Mmhmm.”  She leaned forward to press soft kisses along his length, tongue occasionally darting out to taste him.

“I think it would like that,” he managed, unable to tear his eyes away from her mouth.

“I live to please,” she joked, not waiting for a response before she slid her mouth over him.

Just as she’d hoped, he instantly started a litany of filthy curses mixed with her name, living up to his accent’s reputation.  With every movement of her head the bell chimed, mixing with the wet sound of her mouth against him.

Still learning what this new body liked, Rose experimented with different techniques, noting which ones he responded well to and those he didn’t, working tirelessly until he spilled in her mouth with a great shout of her name.

Pulling back, she wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand before smiling brightly up at him. “So, we’re decorating for Christmas?”

He began to laugh, wondering not for the first, or even thousandth, time how he’d managed to win the heart of this wonderful woman.

“Love, you can put up as many Christmas lights as you like,” he told her, helping her to her feet. “As soon as I’m finished with you, of course.”

“Brilliant,” she told him with a smirk, kissing him before turning around and bending over, bracing herself on the bed as he lowered to his knees behind her.

“Oh, yes,” he agreed, eyeing his prize.  “Brilliant.”

[tenroseforeverandever]

Dear Father Christmas Chapter 6: 24th December, 2021

MASTERPOST

Characters:  Tentoo; Rose Tyler; Jackie Tyler; Pete Tyler; Tony Tyler; OC Hope Tyler-Noble; OC Charlotte Tyler-Noble; OC Wilfred Tyler-Noble

Rated: Teen

Tags: Family!Fic; Kid!Fic; Pete’s World; Letters to Santa; Christmas Fic; Family; Fluff; Hurt/Comfort; Angst; Romance; Love

Summary: When Rose Tyler was little, she always wrote a Christmas wish list to Father Christmas. As she grew older, the wish list became more of a letter to someone she could confide in once a year, but she fell out of the habit somewhere along the way. Now, as a new mum, celebrating her daughter’s first Christmas, Rose takes up writing her Christmas letter to Father Christmas once again.

Rose’s Christmas letters are excerpts from her life with her beloved Tentoo and their children in Pete’s World, written once a year, for each of 31 years.

Chapter Summary: Rose is beyond frustrated when the children’s creative intelligence results in an explosion of melted candy canes.

Notes: As always, my thanks to my darling betas mrsbertucci and @rose--nebula for offering their unstinting support and insightful comments. ((((hugs, ladies))))

Thanks to @doctorroseprompts for their 31 Days of Ficmas prompts. A reminder that I am using the prompts very much out of order, but I intend to use them all. The prompt I used today was Candy Canes.

Also read at: AO3; FF.net; Teaspoon

December 24th, 2021

Dear Father Christmas,

Ooooooh, some days I just want to tear my hair out. Today, in case you couldn’t guess, is one of them. It was completely mad! The Doctor aggroed (full Oncoming Bah Humbug), the TARDIS is in a snit, the children are in solitary lock-up until the foreseeable future (imposed by aggro-Doctor), and I have candy cane melted into my hair. The smell of burned sugar is everywhere! And on top of all that we’re expected at Mum and Dad’s in a few hours for Christmas Eve, and I’m not even sure we can pilot the TARDIS in her current state. We’ve been travelling this past week, so Mum suggested we could stay at the mansion overnight tonight and open pressies with them Christmas morning. Honestly I just want to go to bed and stay there for a very, very long time.

Even though it’s completely against everything me and the Doctor agreed on, this is one of those days when it’s really tempting to consider cheating a little with the timelines and stealing a few hours to give us a chance to get it together. It’ll never happen, but it’s sure nice to think about.

Actually, the whole of autumn has been a bit of a challenge, if I’m being completely honest. We decided to do try something new this year. When the school year began in September, we enrolled Hope at her own age level to help her to socialize (that’s another story! Let’s just say, some attitude adjustment was necessary.) That meant taking the TARDIS out on the weekends to explore and educate the children, Doctor-style, which was lovely. But, it also meant the two kiddies left at home during the week whilst Hope was at school weren’t having their intelligence challenged as much as would be considered ideal… for them. It’s a constant battle trying to keep on top of them to figure out what they’ll get into next.

I don’t quite remember why we didn’t enroll them in the Torchwood Nursery… Some nonsense about me needing to be home to do the school-run, morning and afternoon, and since they had each other for company, they might as well stay home too and drive me mental while they were at it. I mean, don’t get me wrong, Santa, it was a mutual decision between me and the Doctor. We talked it over and decided since he’s enjoying working in the Torchwood labs so much, he should keep doing it, and he relieves me whenever I really need it. It’s just some days I find myself questioning my life choices...

Anyway, the upshot of it is, this past week, we thought we’d give ourselves a nice break. We took Hope out of school a week early for a few days of hols before settling back to Earth-life over Christmas. It started out great, exploring cave life on Naotol-ri-Pibol one day and observing the process of the Grand Canyon gradually forming over eons from the TARDIS doors the next. (That little trick always floors me: to have the TARDIS hover in one point in space, but move through time, so the evolution of the planet plays out like a time-lapse film before your eyes! Brilliant!) But our final stop, yesterday, was the absolute best Christmas planet in either universe: 63rd Century Yultidia! I know, I know, the name is cheesier than my mum’s festive nutty cheese ball, but it sure makes up for it in many wonderful ways.

You’d love Yultidia, Santa, for a chance to get away. It’s completely impractical and over-the-top, not at all suited for building toys, but still everything’s decked out in Christmas cheer. And there’s so much to do: reindeer-pulled sleigh rides (not that that’s anything special for you), shops, carnivals and amusement parks, ice skating, sledding, and all kinds of other winter sports. There’s brilliant, posh hotels and restaurants, the ultimate hot chocolate, and the most wonderful spas… ever! You can guess where I spent most of my time. You and Mrs. Claus should come and treat yourselves to a post-Christmas massage some year. You deserve it!

(I could bloody use another massage, myself, right about now.)

So, while I was enjoying my day at the spa, the Doctor and the brood went exploring. They went snow tubing and they each got to ride a reindeer. And then they went shopping…

Hope, being the most diplomatic of them all (and not just because she’s the eldest… it’s just her nature) convinced her pushover of a Daddy (she has him wound around every single one of her little fingers) to allow the three of them to buy, in addition to a soft toy each, Christmas decorations to add to Gran and Grandad’s setup this year. Of course they chose the tackiest, most garish multicoloured garland possible. Now I’m not talking about tinsel-garland, yeah. I’m talking about fake metallic tree branches in every shade of the rainbow and then some. A bit naff. Not that Mum would mind one little bit. Even though she’s gone a bit posh, living in luxury these last few years, she could never be accused of being particularly sophisticated in her decorating tastes. And besides if her grandkids want something, her grandkids get it.

They also bought a huge box of candy canes to hang from the garland, and no doubt from other places as well, given the quantity of them. I’m not quite sure what the Doctor had been thinking, allowing them to buy so many. Probably thinking with his sweet tooth instead of his brain.

Anyway, they picked me up from the spa, and we all went to a restaurant to have our tea. Soooo good! They have Christmas Chips! I can’t begin to explain the flavour. Gooorgeous! So after enjoying some hot chocolate and mince pies for dessert we all headed back to the TARDIS. Me and the Doctor left the three kids to play in the console room. They were looking all innocent, oohing and awing over their purchases and plotting where they would hang everything when they got to the mansion. Basically, they seemed content, so we headed down to the family room to watch some Scrooge. Biggest mistake ever… but we wouldn’t know that until this afternoon.

In retrospect, we should have known. The three of them were being awfully quiet for children who were “playing”, but we were just so happy to have a quiet evening to snuggle together, we didn’t want to jinx it. When the movie was over, I went to get them ready for bed. They had already tidied up the garland and candy canes, and Wilf was nodding off, hugging his new stuffie reindeer. I got them all into a bath to wash the glitter off them, then into their new Christmas jimjams and straight to bed. Nothing seemed amiss. Same this morning when I made banana pancakes in Christmas shapes for breakfast, although there was rather a little too much chatter about them getting to see Father Christmas (you!) hiding pressies under the tree this year.

We decided to spend a little longer on Yultidia. They all wanted me to go tubing with them! So much bloody fun! Then we had lunch and bought a pile of Christmas goodies for Mum, Dad, and Tony, and gifts for Hope’s teachers and the folks at Torchwood. They’d get them a little late, but that’s okay. I know you’re thinking “time machine”, Santa, but remember, me and the Doctor agreed not to cheat with the timelines, and anyway, those sweets are worth the wait.  

We all bundled back into the TARDIS, and got ready to go: the kids were all buckled in and squirming, so excited to show Gran the garland. The Doctor did his usual dance around the console switching switches and pushing buttons, and I followed behind, making sure everything was set just right, then both of us once again. I know it sounds tedious, but these days… safety first!

Then, the Doctor’s running his hands through his hair and telling me “Something doesn’t feel quite right. Something’s off. I just can’t put my finger on it.” And as he’s fishing for his sonic, I can’t help but see our three little angels giving each other guilty looks and biting their little lower lips. And all I can think is “Oh, bloody hell…”

Next thing I hear is the buzz of the sonic, then a violent rumbling coming from the candy cane box under the console, and I’m throwing myself between it and the children as fast as I can. Flames come shooting out of the box, and the Doctor’s just standing there gawping and saying “What?” over and over. I mean, at this point, Doctor, does it matter?

Suddenly the whole thing explodes, bits of melted and burning candy cane go soaring around the console room, sticking to everything. And believe me, hot candy cane burns are not to be taken lightly. The stuff was everywhere, in our hair, on our clothes (the kids had managed to come out of it with only a little stickiness, thank goodness.) But, worst of all, some of the molten sweet had seeped into the TARDIS controls.

The Doctor lost it. Completely lost it. I could see he was scared shitless. Things could have been so much worse, and he was over-reacting as a result. Like I said earlier, he put the kids in solitary time-out rooms. They were blubbering and apologizing and begging. At least Hope and Charlie were. Poor Wilfred, was just sobbing and sucking his thumb, really frightened and not quite realizing why his Daddy was so angry.

After the kids were settled, the Doctor gingerly ran his sonic over the TARDIS console and deemed it would be hours before she’d be ready to fly again. She just grumbled and dimmed her lights. I wonder if she would enjoy a nice spa treatment…?

Anyway, the Doctor just went down to interrogate the little hooligans, so I’m taking the time to record my letter to you now.

Holy crap! Hang on just a minute, Santa! Now, that plonker is crowing away to the kids about how brilliant they are. Like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, he is! And they’re all laughing and talking some bloody technobabble language I swear they all made up. I’ll make them laugh, all right! I’ll be right back. Looks like Mummy Scrooge is going to have to step in after all.

--ooOoo--

I’m back! Honestly, that man is such a pushover! If I hadn’t stepped in… The brood may be little but they’re definitely smart enough to learn that they have to be held accountable for their actions. I saw their faces when Daddy thought there was something wrong, and they knew it was probably their doing. So accountability! No matter how clever their little invention was!

So, right now, they’re giving the TARDIS her “day at the spa”. They damaged her, and they can fix her up again. They’re polishing and buffing her, and the Doctor is helping them take apart the damaged bits and they’re all putting them back together. The Doctor’s even letting Hope use his sonic for the really stuck-on candy, and the TARDIS is humming in appreciation. My lovely, baby TARDIS. She’s such an important part of our family and it doesn’t hurt for us to remember that once in a while.

In case you’re wondering, it turns out the little inventors were devising a surveillance system to watch for you coming down the chimney. They had rigged each and every candy cane with miniature cameras they found in one of their father’s storage cabinets. (To answer the burning question that must be on your mind: no, I don’t know why he had them. I think it must have been from when Hope was small and he wanted to be able to keep an eye on her everywhere she went.) Anyway, long story short, they rigged them up incorrectly (they were a bit dodgy to begin with, mind) using some wiring they had pinched from under the TARDIS console that was completely incompatible. So, when the Doctor activated his sonic, he ended up reversing the polarity of the neutron flow (or some rubbish like that) and BLAM! Candy cane fireworks!

All I can say, is thank goodness we found out about it before we got to Mum and Dad’s. Can you just imagine Mum’s reaction to having peppermint-scented goo all over her living room? Blimey, what a nightmare that would have been!

Well, it’s time for everyone to get bathed and dressed again (right into their jimjams, I’m thinking.) Then off to the mansion to put up some rather naff garland (minus the candy canes!), hang some stockings, and as it’s been a very long day, a quick tea and off to bed.

Happy Christmas! Love to all, Santa. And here’s hoping you don’t encounter any exploding candy canes on your travels tonight!

love, Rose

[vateacancameos]

The Forest for the Trees, Part 3

Sherlock | Fanfic | Johnlock | Unilock | Asexual Sherlock | 5K words | 4 Parts | ao3 link

December

Convincing John to come home with Sherlock for Christmas turned out to be easier than expected. Sherlock mentioned it casually one evening in mid-December, and John had replied with a lovely smile and an “Of course, if you want me to.” As if Sherlock could want anything else. His pining had increased exponentially in the past few months, but he’d somehow managed to keep it hidden from his friend. John was smart, but he sometimes missed the most obvious clues. Sherlock found it a bit charming.

John coming home with him for Christmas killed several birds with one stone. One, John’s only family was his sister Harry, and she’d be spending the winter hols with her girlfriend in Liverpool. If he didn’t come with Sherlock, he’d be home alone. And that was just not on. Two, Mummy went a bit… mad over Christmas. With John around to share the load, Sherlock would be forced into less holiday spirit than usual. With John’s romantic nature, he was inclined to actually enjoy Christmas anyway. He and Mummy could natter on about holiday silliness together and leave Sherlock out of it. Three, most importantly, Sherlock couldn’t bear to spend that much time apart from John.

They were practically attached at the hip now. The possibility of a boyfriend was mere memory, and any hours not spent sleeping or going to class were spent together. So not only would Sherlock be at a loss if he didn’t have John around to joke with and keep the boredom at bay, he just couldn’t bear the thought of going so many days without seeing John’s happy smile, feeling his warm hands, or hearing his contagious laugh.

The time between end of term and Christmas seemed to rush by, and suddenly they were home. Mummy plied them with cider, mulled wine, and nibbles, Dad showed them his latest wood carvings, and Mycroft rolled his eyes a lot from the sofa his arse seemed to be married to. He had just started working as an aide to a public servant of one sort or another and apparently thought himself better than everyone else. John seemed not to care that he had taken over the burden of Mycroft’s holiday chores, always saying he didn’t mind at all, that he liked being needed.

Mummy was ecstatic that Sherlock finally had a friend and couldn’t stop commenting on how amazing the man was. Though Sherlock agreed with her assessment, he thought her raptures were getting out of hand. He didn’t understand it for what it was until late on Christmas Eve after a game of Scrabble (Sherlock had won, and John had come second, but likely only because Mummy only cared about numbers and Mycroft was glued to his new work phone).

They were having their final round of drinks when Mummy pulled out the camera and forced the family in front of the tree for pictures. She started off with the usual: she and Dad, Sherlock and Mycroft, all four of them. Then she told John to jump in as well. At first, Sherlock thought she just didn’t want John to feel left out (even though he seemed perfectly content pressing camera buttons), but after the group pictures were done, Mummy shooed Sherlock and John back in front of the tree.

“Every couple should have a picture in front of the tree,” she had explained as she posed them.

Sherlock stiffened. Oh. She thought they were together. He wasn’t sure what gave her that idea, since he had never once called John his boyfriend (out loud). They hadn’t kissed or even touched too often. They just acted like friends. Close friends, yes. Best friends. But that was all.

He was about to refute their relationship status when John put his arm around Sherlock’s waist and leaned in. “Oh, come on, Scrooge. It’s Christmas. Indulge your mum just this once.”

John’s breath was a soft puff on Sherlock’s neck, his arm a warm band around his waist, and Sherlock suddenly didn’t have it in him to fight. It felt so nice, so right, being here like this, being a couple. And John was right. He rarely saw his parents. It wasn’t difficult letting her win just this once. He would have to call her after the trip, though, and explain why she was wrong in her assumption.

So Sherlock relaxed and leaned in a bit to John. John hummed contentedly, then pinched him with his free hand to get him to smile. Not a bad way to spend Christmas Eve.

* * *

“I’m, um, sorry about Mother and the thing with the photos,” Sherlock apologized later that night. Everyone was in bed but the two of them, who had stayed up to watch Die Hard, apparently the “best Christmas ever made.” Given the holiday schlock usually found on the television, Sherlock had to agree. Still, the movie had been rather ridiculous. But it had been fun. John had let Sherlock scoff all he wanted, and only hushed him during the “important bits.”

Now they were curled up on the sofa, enjoying the quiet of the house and the warmth of the last of a fire. John had announced he needed sleep, but Sherlock couldn’t let him go without apologizing for the embarrassment that was his mother. It had felt nice that John didn’t mind pretending they were a couple for his mum, but Sherlock still needed to show his appreciation.

John shook his head and smiled. “It’s fine, Sherlock. She’s a mum; they’re meant to be exuberant.”

“But still–”

“Sherlock, really, I don’t mind. It was kind of nice, actually. You’re lucky to have a mother who can fawn over you, silly as it may seem. I would give anything to have my mum…” He trailed off, his face scrunched in sorrow. John’s mum had died when he was sixteen, at the beginning of his dating years. Sherlock reckoned he could understand wanting to experience that motherly silliness, if even it was based on a faulty assumption.

He was also doubly glad he’d asked John to come home with him. Even if it had hurt a bit to pretend, John had had a moment of family normalcy. And though Sherlock couldn’t understand wanting that at all, he understood where John was coming from. He knew John craved that bit of normalcy, despite being rather extraordinary himself.

“Well, then,” Sherlock replied. “I’m glad you were able to have that.”

John smiled softly. “This is the best Christmas I’ve had in ages. Than you, Sherlock.”

Just then, the clock struck two, and John raised his brows in surprise. “I really should get to bed if I’m going to be worth anything in the morning.”

Sherlock didn’t like the idea of John leaving yet. He rolled his eyes, trying to look annoyed rather than bereft. “It’s not as if you must to get up early. We’re not children, needing to tear into gifts at four in the morning.”

“I’m not going to be the slothful guest, Sherlock.” He rolled his head to the side so that it knocked gently against Sherlock’s. Sherlock liked that. “Merry Christmas, you mad man.” He then put his hand on Sherlock leg to lever himself to standing. “Don’t stay up too late, okay? I might find your surliness kind of adorable, but most people shouldn’t have to deal with it, family included.” He yawned and headed for the stairs.

Still processing the fact that John found something about Sherlock adorable, Sherlock didn’t realize he’d forgot to reply until John was halfway up to the first floor. “Merry Christmas, John,” he said, just loudly enough to be heard by his friend. He had to agree, this was the best Christmas he’d had in years.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

[youhadmeathohoho]

Does this movie have a good name?

No.

I’ll tell you what does have a good name though: the butler. He’s called Gerard. Gerard the Butler. Classic! And if you think that’s funny, well, erm, actually you’re going to be disappointed, because that’s it for this movie’s attempts at LOLs. Shame.

Are we located in a small, picturesque, snow-covered town?

If we are, we don’t get to see it; because today, my friends, we are enduring the sub-genre I like to call “Haughty Holiday House”, in which a lovely young lady’s career takes her to a cavernous, forbidding mansion, whose frosty inhabitants learn to find joy again with our heroine’s assistance.

We spend pretty much the entire duration of this movie inside Ashford, an allegedly magnificent house, or on its supposedly splendid grounds. Location-wise, I do not sense that the production managed to secure a magnificent house, so instead they pray that having people ascend staircases regularly will give us a sense of grandeur. Other than that, it’s down to the props department, who I think you’ll agree have made valiant efforts:

Is the lead character’s name festive?

She’s called Lizzie Richfield, which is not festive, but instead has a regal / upper class vibe. And that’s odd, because Lizzie is a down-to earth type who suddenly finds herself mingling in high society when she takes a job as “house manager” at a local mansion. So why is Lizzie’s surname “Richfield”? Come on, guys, I think you mean “Poorfield”.

(Meanwhile, the haughty family’s surname is Marley, which is perhaps a subtle reference to “A Christmas Carol.” Oh Hallmark! This is no time for subtlety! Just call these people Scrooge and get on with it!)

How busy is said lady?

Not even slightly.

SAY WHAT???

See, Lizzie has just been made redundant, so at the start of proceedings she’s basically hanging out in her PJs all day, eating Nutella straight from the jar, watching repeats of “Homes under the Hammer” - until her sister hands her the gig at the mansion. Then she gets pretty busy, arranging shiz connected to the sale of the house, while also thawing out Gerard (the) Butler, Glacial Grandma, and of course her love interest, Repressed Robert.

Recognise anyone?

Yes: Danica McKellar (Lizzie) is at this point better known for starring in Hallmark Christmas movies than for having played Winnie - Kevin Arnold’s number one crush - on 80s yearn-fest “The Wonder Years”.

And I thought I recognised her potential beau, Repressed Robert, and was perplexed by my feelings of goodwill towards him, until eventually I realised that he just really resembles crooner Will Young.

How are everyone’s Christmas Spirit levels?

Lizzie loves Christmas because of her dead dad. Repressed Robert doesn’t love Christmas because of his dead mum and dad.

I guess people are complex.

Does anything magical or supernatural happen?

Despite all the odds, a humble tin of Folger’s Classic Roast Coffee makes it big in Hollywood!

Does a misunderstanding threaten the lady’s path to Happy Ever After with the man?

Okay, so Repressed Robert has a rival for Lizzie’s affections - his very own brother! He’s called Kip, wears a leather jacket, and is modelled on Prince Harry:

At the party organised by Lizzie a.k.a. the Final Ever Annual Marley Family Christmas Gala, Repressed Robert is dancing with Lizzie - and is about to tell her he wants to drink Folger’s with her 4eva - when Kip drags her away to deal with a ‘dessert emergency’!

But when they get outside, he reveals that there is no ‘dessert emergency’! OH NO HE DIDN’T!! Turns out the rascal just wanted to steal her away from Repressed Robert so that he could, in a classic playboy move, invite her to jet off to Athens with him.

Next, some fabulous Bad-At-Overhearing ensues:

LIZZIE: I would love nothing more than to go to Athens with you!

ROBERT overhears badly and skulks off

LIZZIE: But I can’t! My heart belongs to someone else.

Is there a twiiiist?

It turns out that the reason meanie Repressed Robert is trying to sell the mansion is not that he scoffs at family history, but because in fact Glacial Grandma is not in the best of health, and all the stairs are too much for her. Why this needs to be kept secret from everyone else is not clear. Also, at the end of the movie he decides not to sell the mansion because he learned about love and family and whatever, and I guess is totally over Gma’s staircase struggles?

Is this movie bang on trend?

Lizzie uses the world wide web to hunt for a job. She also announces that she will “need GPS to find my way around this house.”

Any missed opportunities?

• When we first meet Lizzie, she has lost her job in insurance and there’s a lot of talk about needing to find her true vocation. We learn that she studied Art History, which is what makes her qualified to work in a Really Haughty House. Then she organises a party, and everyone decides she should be a professional party planner. I think that, given her Art History background, it would be better if she’d ended up as some kind of curator of Really Haughty Houses. Maybe opening them up to normal peasants, so as to neutralise their haughtiness.

• I think one of the writers once watched one-third of a Pride and Prejudice adaptation, and got some vague ideas about a romantic hero needing to be aloof:

And sure, Repressed Robert is kind of awkward and not great at expressing his feelings, but they should have gone way further. He should have started off being genuinely rude and dismissive to Lizzie, so that she could despise him and preferably announce to someone that she wouldn’t marry Robert if he were the last man on Earth. This would make their journey to smooching far more satisfying.

• Gerard (the) Butler slowly loosens up and becomes one of Lizzie’s allies. But why doesn’t he get a bit too relaxed at the Gala and do a comedy dance? And get flirty with the housekeeper while he’s at it?

Best dialogue?

“Come on! Give chance a chance!”

On reflection, is this movie about Christmas?

There are a lot of Christmas decorations everywhere, so I suppose yes.

Overall rating?

[jameslilyfest-blog]

Round One Masterlist: Fics

Please see under the cut for all fics, ordered by first posting day down to last.

Title: Whiskey & Orange Juice Author: @wotcherpotter Prompt: Scenario #7 Holiday Party Pairing(s)/Characters: James Potter/Lily Evans Rating: General Audiences Spoilers/Warnings: N/A Summary: Lily’s mum had always said, ‘the way you started the New Year was a reflection of how your year would pan out’ and she did not want to be moping for a full 365 days. Notes: AU - College, AU - Modern

Title: Defeating the Grinch Author: Chie/ @chierafied Prompt: Scenario #4 – Ice-skating Pairing(s)/Characters: James&Lily; James, Remus, Sirius, Peter, Mary, Marlene, Lily Rating: T Warnings: Some drinking, tipsiness and mild swearing Summary: Lily has lost her holiday spirit - and her mother. But luckily she has friends who want to remind her that she is not alone. Notes: Thanks for @gryffindormischief and Maz for beta-reading! ♥

Title: All I Want For Christmas Is You Author: @siriuslynerdy32 Prompt: Image #5 Pairing(s)/Characters: James Potter/Lily Evans Rating: General Audience Spoilers/Warnings: No spoilers/warnings Summary: During the chilly Christmas, Lily Evans finds the hearth to keep her warm. Notes: Jily Muggle Neighbours AU! Unadulterated fluff

Title: A Game of Thrones Author: @wearingaberetinparis Prompt: Quote #2 “Winter is coming.” - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones Pairings: James Potter/Lily Evans Rating: M Spoilers/Warnings: None Summary: Lily Evans had never imagined she would meet Prince James, but when she does at St Andrews’ annual Christmas Pub Crawl, her whole world is turned upside down. For who thought that a girl like her - with a sister that reads “Hello” magazine like it’s the Bible - would end up with a prince like him? Notes: A Jily Royalty/University/Modern Setting AU.

Title: Eight After Eights Author: @bantasticbeasts Prompt: Quote #10 “Happy birthday, Jesus. Sorry your party’s so lame.” - The Office Pairing(s)/Characters: James Potter/Lily Evans Rating: Not rated Spoilers/Warnings: No warnings Summary: “You know James met Jeremy Paxman and he was so awestruck that he cried?” Sirius tells her, through a mouthful of chip sandwich. “First of all,” says James, eyes not leaving the screen, “I was eight, so jot that down. I was meeting my hero, I think I was entitled to a few tears. Secondly—” “Your hero when you were eight was Jeremy Paxman?” Lily grins. “I’ve literally never been less surprised to learn anything.” Notes: special love to rhiannon, grace and ria for reassuring me that this is okay and encouraging me through this x

Title: James Potter, Arrogant Tosser Author: JannaElizabeth93/ @bengaliprincess Prompt: Image #3 Pairing(s)/Characters: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter Rating: General Audiences Spoilers/Warnings: none Summary: James Potter, Arrogant Tosser, missed a few days of class in December 1976 Notes: none

Title: Snowbody Like You Author: @our-daily-struggle Prompt: Sleigh bells ring, are you listenin’/In the lane, snow is glistening/A beautiful sight, we’re happy tonight/Walking in a winter wonderland - “Winter Wonderland” - Richard B. Smith Pairing(s)/Characters: James Potter/Lily Evans Rating: Teen Spoilers/Warnings: mild language Summary: Their last Christmas at Hogwarts was one filled with cheer and joy and ‘to new beginnings’. So why is Lily Evans not in the Christmas spirit, but rather waging a war in her own head? And how is Potter, again, the root of all her problems? Notes: A MASSIVE thank you to my wonderful and amazing beta-reader @wearingaberetinparis for proof reading my story, i can’t thank you enough! This is dedicated to Mary, my new gorgeous, HP-GoT loving friend :) And to everyone else who loves and adores Jily!

Title: An English Witch In Newark Author: @attinaadellaalana/PeridotLionheart Prompt: Secret Santa Pairing(s)/Characters: James Potter/Lily Evans Rating: Not Rated Spoilers/Warnings: I suppose Order of the Phoenix and Half Blood Prince. Mentions of blood might squick people out. Summary: A festivity is happening after a grand adventure. Will Lily and James finally admit what is going on between them? Notes: Special thanks to @bengaliprincess and a friend for beta reading!

Title: Prongs and the Hot Chocolate Incident Author: ashkar (@sass-and-ambition) Prompt: Word #3 Hot Chocolate Pairing(s)/Characters: James Potter, Lily Evans, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, James/Lily Rating: General audience Warnings: none Summary: James is nice to Lily for once, and it has a profound impact on him.

Title: So Just Act Like You Love Me Author: twilightstargazer ( @hiddenpolkadots​) Prompt: Quote#3 ‘At Christmas tea is compulsory, relatives are optional’ - Robert Godden Pairing/Chraacters: James Potter/ Lily Evans; James Potter, Lily Evans, Sirius Black, Petunia Evans Dursley Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Spoilers/ Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Alternate Universe- Modern, Fake/ Pretend Relationship Summary: “Petunia knows Sirius, but she doesn’t know you,” she says, and her voice doesn’t wobble even once. He doesn’t seem to catch it, but Sirius is staring at her with his eyebrows raised, just a little. She ignores it and trudges forward, steeling herself for what’s to come. “Petunia doesn’t know you. She doesn’t know that we’re just friends or that we argue like nothing else so–” A flicker of understanding flares to life in his eyes and his jaw almost falls open. “Oh god.” or, Lily was looking forward to a nice, quiet Christmas by herself. Instead she’s heading back home for her sister’s engagement party with a fake boyfriend in tow. Notes: thank you to @gxldentrio​, @prongsno​, and @tamilprongspotter for putting up with my chat based yelling.

Title: Snow Angels Author: @grhffindores Prompt: Word#8 Snow Pairing(s)/Characters: James Potter/ Lily Evans; James Potter, Lily Evans, mentions of Marauders Rating: no warnings apply Spoilers/Warnings: minor spoilers about the first war. Summary: Snow blurs the line between friends and lovers, but that’s okay because they kind of don’t care anyways.

Title: it’s all perception Author: @missgoalie75 Prompt: Image #9 Pairing(s)/Characters: Lily/James Rating: T Warnings: None Disclaimer: Title is from “Young” by The Paper Kites. Summary: Lily and James’ last five holidays. Notes: Thank you to @firstbreaths for co-running this fest with me and being the best beta in the entire world.

Title: to hope to be Author: Paradise_of_Mary_Jane/ @pdfcct Prompt: Quote #5  "It’s Christmas Eve.  It’s the one night of the year when we all act a little nicer, we smile a little easier, we cheer a little more. For a couple of hours out of the whole year we are the people we always hoped we would be.“ - Scrooged Pairing(s)/Characters: James/Lily; James Potter, Lily Evans; Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew Rating: T Warnings: None Summary:Their guests arrive at a quarter past five, a full hour before they’re meant to. It’s a testament to James’ powers of persuasion and desperation that Remus and Sirius arrive together, and that Peter arrives at all. Still, Lily can’t help but frowning playfully when she sees them come through the fireplace. She adjusts the hold she has on Harry so that she’ll see them better. “You’re early,” she says. “Dinner’s not ready yet.” Notes: A huge thanks to the mods of jameslilyfest and to my beta wotcherpotter for making this fic possible!! You guys are amazing<33