#BUT IF IT WERE SANTA HE’D BE ALL HOLLY
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Holly Jolly - Ch. 1: Jolly Old St. Nicholas
Joel takes Sarah to meet Santa and meets an overly friendly stranger in line. Chapter one of Holly Jolly, a modern no-outbreak AU TLOU fic.
Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader
Warnings: None really!
Length: 2.6k
AO3 | Main Master List | Next Chapter
Joel Miller had never been big on Christmas.
When he was a kid, it lost the magic pretty damn early. When your parents are just scraping by and are too proud to ask for help, the truth about Santa hits pretty young. From then on, it was just a constant reminder of what he didn’t have. Didn’t have parents who were willing to try to keep the magic alive for him and his brother, didn’t have a mother for his daughter, didn’t have a job that let him take time off to spend at home with her during the holidays.
This year, it was the fact that he didn’t have the money to pull off Christmas at all. At least, not that he could figure out.
“Daddy, look!” Sarah tugged on his fingers that were held tight in her sticky grip as they got in line, a sign that said “North Pole” over their heads. “Elves!”
“Yes, Baby Girl,” he smiled down at her even though he didn’t much feel like it. “Elves, they’re here to make sure you’re a good girl while we wait in line.”
“I’ll be good!” She said, first to him and then to a woman in peppermint striped leggings and a green felt dress. “I’ll be so good, I’ve been so good this year!”
“I bet you have been!” The woman smiled before going back to counting people in line, ending with Joel and Sarah. He checked is watch - the band barely hanging on by a thread and the cheap plastic of the face chipped - and let out a small sigh of relief. They’d just made it, the mall closing in half an hour and the Santa line cut off time coming even sooner.
“Wait!” There was a loud voice from behind him as the elf woman started roping off the line. He turned to see a woman who couldn’t be any older than him running toward the line, a girl about Sarah’s age on her hip. You all but skidded to a stop at the rope, the elf woman still holding the end of it. “Please, I’m so sorry, I got held up at work and it was just crazy tonight, can we still get in? We’ll be so quick, she’s so excited and I’ll buy the biggest photo package you have I promise.”
The elf looked around and then lifted the rope.
“Don’t tell anyone,” she smiled and gave the little girl a wink. “But only because you have been so good this year.”
The little girl gasped as you set her down.
“Aunt Cocoa, how did she know?”
“Because she’s an elf,” you said, taking her hand. “Of course she knows!”
Joel tried to not glare at you. You were wearing leggings that were covered in gingerbread men with a sweater that was the definition of an ugly Christmas sweater, green with tinsel and ornaments and lights hanging off it, a headband with antlers in your hair. He ground his teeth.
Of course, it wasn’t your fault that it was only a week and a half to Christmas and he’d gotten fuck all done. And it wasn’t your fault that the only emotional energy Joel had was going to go toward making sure his daughter had a good night, not placating some childish woman. But damn, it sure seemed like you’d been dropped in front of him just to annoy him, the personification of all the forced cheerfulness that came with the holiday season right where he didn’t want it to be.
“Aunt Cocoa!” The little girl by your side piped up. “Do you hear? It’s Rudolph!”
You turned an ear toward the ceiling and smiled.
“It IS Rudolph!” You said. “Now remind me, who is Rudolph again?”
“He’s a reindeer!” Sarah piped up from her place at Joel’s side. He almost groaned.
“Is he really?” You smiled down at her. “Who’s reindeer is he, do you think?”
“Santa’s!” Sarah and the little girl you were with said at the same time and their faces lit up before they dissolved into giggles.
“Hi!” Sarah smiled hugely, a gap where her front baby tooth had been just a few days earlier. “I’m Sarah!”
“I’m Sharon!” The girl with you smiled back, also missing a tooth. “I’m five, how old are you?”
“I’m five, too!” Sarah gaped at her, as though finding another child her age in line to see Santa was a miracle. “What school do you go to?”
And just like that, they were off, chattering away in rapid fire, high pitched, little kid speak. You smiled at Joel, almost absently smoothing Sharon’s hair down, more like a parent would do than an aunt.
“Hi,” you smiled at him as the kids babbled away to each other. Joel was pretty sure he heard the word Barbie from Sarah at the same time you gave your name.
He frowned.
“Thought your name was Cocoa.”
“Oh,” you laughed. “Yeah, when Sharon was little - well, littler - I’d pick her up for girls’ day and the first stop was always Starbucks where I’d get a latte and she’d get a hot cocoa so I turned into Aunt Cocoa.”
“Right…” Joel moved forward in line.
“And what’s your name, Sarah’s… adult person?” You asked, smiling a little too broadly. There was glitter on your eyelids. Glitter.
“I’m her Dad,” Joel said. “And I’m Joel.”
“Good to meet you, Joel,” you just kept smiling.
He was silent for probably too long before he realized he should probably respond.
“You too.”
Your smile fell a little but was still there and Joel turned to face forward again, Sarah still happily chattering to Sharon.
The line, at least, was moving quickly and, as much as your syrupy tone and ridiculous outfit grated on him, Sarah’s patience for the line was far greater because Sharon was there for her to talk to.
“So,” you were still smiling. How could someone smile that fucking long? Didn’t your face hurt? “These two seem to be getting on like a house on fire.”
“Yup,” Joel said. The family in front of him stepped forward and Joel did, too.
“Want to exchange numbers?” You asked. Joel raised his eyebrows at you and you stammered quickly. “I mean… you know, to try to get them together? Get some of that holiday energy out?”
“If you want to give me her mom’s number,” Joel said, not especially wanting you to have his.
You glanced down quickly at Sharon but she was laughing at something. Sarah laughed, too.
“Well, I can’t…” you flinched a little. It was the first time he’d seen you not smiling like a maniac. “I’m kind of… Sharon lives with me?”
You said it more like a question than a statement.
“Right,” Joel said slowly.
“So we could just trade numbers,” you smiled again. “Maybe the girls can go to a playground or something over the weekend?”
The line moved again.
“Sure,” Joel sighed, getting his phone out of his pocket and unlocking it. He passed it to you and you took it, adding your number.
“Just going to text myself…” you said absently and then handed Joel’s phone back, the message still pulled up. You’d just typed “Santa Joel” with a little heart emoji after it. Joel was still looking at the screen when two messages from you showed up. One was a selfie - one you’d clearly taken another time, no glitter eyelids or antlers in sight - and the other just your name, followed by a heart emoji.
“Smile!” You said and he looked up from his phone to see you taking a picture of him. He frowned and your face fell a little bit. “You know, for the contact picture?”
“Right.”
He looked down at his phone again. When you weren’t dressed like Christmas had thrown up, you were… pretty. Really pretty. Beautiful, actually, with soft eyes and a gentle smile. You looked like the kind of person people just wanted to talk to. Just the kind of person Joel didn’t need in his life.
The line advanced and Joel moved up.
“Excited for Christmas?” You asked after the two of you had been silent for another few minutes and had moved forward more.
Joel glanced down, making sure Sarah was still distracted. Sharon had pulled a small notebook out of her coat pocket and Sarah was looking over her shoulder, carefully reviewing the mass of stickers on the page.
“Sure,” Joel said, not about to say how he actually felt about it with Sarah this close by. He looked you up and down. “Looks like you’re ready for it.”
“Oh,” you laughed a little, looking down at the ridiculous sweater. “Yeah, I guess so! Anything you’re excited for?”
The line moved. Joel could see the leg of the tripod the camera was set up on now, at least.
“The food, I guess,” Joel said, even though that wasn’t really true, either. He usually got some cookie dough from the store so Sarah could decorate and Tommy had volunteered to host Christmas dinner that year but Joel was almost positive that it was going to be a damn disaster. His little brother could barely make mac and cheese, he didn’t see a full feast going well.
“So good, right?” You said. “I love…”
“Look,” Joel said, glancing down at the girls again. “Sure you… mean well and all but we’re getting close to the front of the line and I’d rather just stand here for the next five minutes, alright?”
“Oh,” your face fell a bit. “Right, I’m sorry, I… right. Sorry.”
You looked off to the side and Joel faced forward again.
He almost felt bad for it as they neared the front of the line, but then he heard you humming along with the stupid Christmas song playing on the speakers overhead and he stopped.
“OK!” The elf woman smiled down at Sarah. “Are you all ready to see Santa?”
“Yeah!” Sarah beamed up at her.
“Well that’s good, because you’re next!” She said, looking around the corner toward Santa. “Alright, looks like he’s already for you! Let’s go!”
She lifted the velvet rope and Joel nudged Sarah forward, her face lighting up when she saw the fat, bearded man on his throne. She ran over to him and clambered on his lap.
“I’ve been so good this year!” She said before Santa even got a chance to say hello. He laughed and helped her up.
“I’m sure you have been,” he said. “And what’s your name?
“Sarah!” She smiled her patchwork smile and Joel smiled, too. “I’m five, almost five and a half!”
“That half is very important,” Santa nodded sagely. “And what do you want for Christmas this year, Sarah?”
“A Barbie Dream House!” She said. “And a new Barbie and Ken to live there!”
Santa glanced up at Joel who was trying to not freak out. A fucking Barbie Dream House? That couldn’t be cheap. Money had been tight since he’d bought the house a few months earlier.
It was the worst house he could find in the best school district and he was still house poor as a result of the fucking thing. And, of course, after he closed one of his jobs fell through, so him and Sarah had gotten by on now maxed out credit cards for two months since buying the damn house had wiped out his savings.
He’d just gotten paid for the most recent job the day before, a sharp relief when he deposited the check. He’d been down to $17.87 in his checking account, happy that there’d been a sale on some canned shit a few weeks earlier so the pantry was at least somewhat stocked. How the fuck was he going to afford a Barbie Dream House?
Santa looked back at Sarah.
“We’ll just see what we can do about that,” Santa said kindly. “Do you think you can keep being a good girl for me?”
She nodded eagerly.
“Then I’m sure you’ll have a very happy Christmas,” he said. “Why don’t you look at that camera, we’ll take a picture together.”
Sarah sat up straight and smiled so big her eyes scrunched shut and the camera flashed. She jumped down and Sarah took his hand as they went to the booth to buy the pictures.
“He was so nice!” Sarah said. “And he smelled kind of like the apple pie we had on Thanksgiving and I think he knows that I’ve been real good, Dad.”
“He was nice,” Joel said, looking at the screen with the picture of Sarah on Santa’s lap and then the price list. “And I’m sure he knows how good you’ve been…”
How was it $25 for a print out of a picture and a frame made out of fucking card stock? The whole damn season was a racket.
“Just package A,” Joel said to the man dressed like an elf, pulling out his wallet and handing over his debit card.
“Do you think he can make a Dream House?” She asked, holding onto his fingers. “How do the elves make all those toys, anyway?”
“Well, they work real hard…”
“I’m sorry sir, but your card was declined,” the elf man held Joel’s debit card out to him. “Do you have another card?”
Joel’s chest got tight.
“Can you try it again?” He said.
“Already did,” the man said. “Twice more. It’s declined.”
“Just…” Joel pulled his phone out. “One sec.”
He opened his banking app and looked at his account. The check he’d deposited at the end of the day yesterday was there but still pending, funds not yet available. Fuck.
He only had two credit cards, both of them were maxed out. He opened his wallet, hoping he had a $10 bill he’d forgotten about, then he could do $10 cash and the other $15 on the card… and nothing. Joel took the card back and put it in his wallet.
“Do y’all keep the photos for a few days?” Joel asked. “I can come back tomorrow…”
You were suddenly there in the doorway, Sharon in front of you.
“No, I’m sorry sir,” the man said. “We wipe all the memory cards at the end of the day.”
Joel took a look at the screen, at Sarah’s giant smile, trying to remember it.
“Right,” Joel said, squeezing Sarah’s little hand. “Thanks, anyway.”
Sarah, at least, didn’t seem to even notice, even though Joel wasn’t sure the last time he felt so fucking low. He couldn’t even afford to buy his daughter’s Santa picture, how the fuck was he supposed to make Christmas happen? With a Barbie Dream House no less?
“Joel!” Your voice was loud behind him and he turned to see you running toward him, a plastic bag printed with holly and candy canes held out in front of you, Sharon trailing behind. He frowned as you stopped in front of him, panting for breath. “Sorry, I’ve done more running today than I have all year! Anyway, this is for you.”
You held the bag out and Joel’s frown deepened, taking it and looking inside. It was Sarah’s Santa picture in the stupid card stock frame and an ornament, the same picture encased in plastic.
“It was a great picture,” you smiled. “You should have a copy.”
“I’m not lookin’ for charity.”
“Oh,” your face fell a little. “I wasn’t… It’s not… Just pay it forward when you can, OK? Merry Christmas.”
You didn’t wait for him to respond, just taking Sharon’s hand and walking away.
Next Chapter
#fanfic#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x oc#holly jolly
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player: Virgil van Dijk
words: 798
request: Virgil van Dijk - she / her - 500 - 900 - Virgil and her spending his day off in Christmas pjs while watching Christmas films and drinking hot chocolates, getting some much needed cuddles in <3
Over the years of them dating, she’s made numerous threats to get Virgil in matching Christmas PJs and each time December has rolled around, he’s lived in a soft coated fear that this is the year she’ll make him do it. Because he would because she asked. So far it hasn’t happened and he’d started to suspect it was purely to watch him keep on his toes wondering when it was going to happen and today it’s happened.
Virgil went out to the store, armed with a list of things for the next few days that they needed, including a snack and drink list. And despite him being out of the house, she’d found herself tiptoeing to the spot where she’d hid her purchase and carefully retrieved it and found that now it was time, there was just something naughty about holding it and it even though she could let out her happiness while he wasn’t in, it took everything in her to force back her smile and pull herself together.
She’d gone for a simple design, not wanting it to be “honey i just puked Christmas everywhere” but it certainly couldn’t be mistaken for something else. A soft background made way for cartoon gingerbread men, sprigs of holly and candy canes. Presents were dotted here and there along with Christmas puddings. There were no sleighs, no Santa hats, no trees, no reindeer, no Ho Ho Hos or Merry Christmas variations but it still said HI, I’M A CHRISTMAS PYJAMA proudly and Virgil was going to hate it.
“They were out of those festive shortbreads you wanted,” he calls out when he returns home, a cold breeze sweeps through the foyer before he can close the door and the sound of his keys clunking in the key dish on the sideboard seems to echo throughout. “But I got everything else on the list. It’s busy though, so many people are in a hurry today. A little old lady nearly took my legs from under me on her mobility scooter, she was not messing around.”
The image of her big boyfriend getting his legs knocked from under him by an old aged pensioner made her chuckle out loud and he followed the sound of it until he found her.
“The last few years have treated me too good. What is this, baby?” he asks in disbelief but can’t stop the laugh that sounds. He leaves the carrier bags on the side and steps towards her, drinking it all in. “You look ridiculous.”
“Well that’s not very kind. Imagine yourself in this little get up.”
“I’d rather not.”
“Well, lucky for you, you don’t need to imagine it.” She smiles up at him and watches as his own falters.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Don’t you be like this. Go on, it’s upstairs. Slip into something a little more…comfortable, why don’t you?” She wiggles her eyebrows at him before rummaging through the bags. “Ooooh, they had the spiced cookies though.” she says happily, tearing open the packet as she walks away.
-
The laugh that had burst from her was indescribable. She’d had to clamp a hand over her mouth to try and stop herself.
“I look Ridiculous.” He says, standing in front of the TV like a child being made to stand in front of the door for their “first day back at school” photo.
“Your expression makes you look ridiculous.” She counters, swinging her legs over the side of the couch and leans forward to get a better look at him. “The fit looks good though.”
“Oh well then, as long as the fit looks good,” he huffs and makes his way over to the sofa, sits himself down and swipes at one of the Stroopwafels that he’d picked up earlier. With a chewy caramel centre and one half dipped in a Lotus drip and sprinkled with crushed biscuit, it was a sure fire way to get a smile on his face. Rain was starting to pelt the windows but with the candles lit, the tv casting a warm light and the fake fireplace roaring away, it felt cosy. She’s brought out the Christmas tree patterned blankets and made sure everything is set for a snuggly afternoon.
Two movies in, Virgil had moved from his side of the sofa to laying with his head on her chest as she stroked over his face and through his hair gently.
“Have you forgiven me yet?”“I can’t be mad when they’re this comfy.” he admits with a frown and snuggles a little bit harder, shifting his body until he’s happy again. And though she suspects he was never really annoyed in the first place, she says nothing; she allows him to keep his pride and dignity and goes along with the facade.
#football imagine#football one shot#footballer imagine#footballer one shot#football blurb#football fanfiction#football fanfic#footballer fanfiction#virgil van dijk x reader#virgil van dijk imagine#virgil van dijk drabble#virgil van dijk fanfic#virgil van dijk blurb
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A Mendell Christmas: Part One
A little Christmas short for the holiday season! This occurs toward the end of Team Players, before Aderyn (spoiler alert for Team Players ending!) reveals she's leaving Mendell. (please excuse any errors, I'm not the best editor lol)
Naomi
“Naomi?” A soft, rhythmic knock at the door called for my attention. “It’s me.”
I tugged off my headphones and glanced at the clock. I’d been so knee-deep into online Christmas shopping I didn’t realize the time.
"You ready?" Lincoln was out of breath — undoubtedly from taking the stairs two by two because he couldn’t stand the time it took to climb them.
I smiled at him. His eyes were bright and full of infectious excitement. He bounced on the balls of his feet like he was ready to take action at a moment’s notice.
“For what?” I couldn't help but tease.
“Naomi.” His shoulders sagged and his smile tapered off into near non-existence. “They’re all downstairs right now and in the worst mood ever. We have a job to do and you’re going to tell me you forgot?”
I laughed and got up from my desk to reveal the bottom half of my outfit. Relief smoothed Lincoln’s brow. He chuckled at the spin I did to make my green, tree skirt light up. His bouncing was back.
“You really thought I forgot?” I tugged off my sweatshirt to reveal the ugliest Christmas t-shirt I could find at the local thrift shop. It had reindeer patches, a multitude of Santa Clauses, and enough colorful candy cane to make one feel cross-eyed.
“You’re just so good at bluffing, Sunshine,” Lincoln said and pulled out two Santa hats from his bag. Both were green and trimmed with gold fabric. My name was embroidered in black thread on one.
I gasped and stood still as he placed it on my head carefully as if it were a crown.
“There, now you’re all set,” he said.
“This is so cute! Where did you get it? Wait…do you know how to sew?”
“No, I wish. I just know people who know people who know how to sew.” He nodded in approval at how the hat looked on me and then, placed his own on. “I got one made for all of us. I wanted it to be perfect. A holiday to remember despite…well, you know.”
Lincoln had been planning this for weeks. And as his partner in crime (or elf in crime depending on the level of Christmas spirit), I was committed to helping him.
“It will be perfect,” I promised while adjusting my hat. “They’re going to cheer up and we’re going to make this a time to remember. They’ll be so holly and jolly we’ll probably get sick of them.”
Lincoln laughed. “God, imagine.”
“Anything is possible this time of year,” I said even though seeing Sam, Henrik, and especially Finn more excited than Lincoln and I would be a sight to behold.
“Are we all set?” I grabbed my phone, ready to record reactions for the eventual short film Lincoln wanted to put together. He was going to call it “Our First Christmas.” When I asked if they’d spent holidays together before he said, of course.
“Why first then?” I’d wondered.
“Because you’re here and now, our family’s bigger. It’s our first Christmas together,” he’d said so casually like it was simple and my inclusion vital. I’d cried that day and Finn almost got into it with Lincoln until he realized it was good tears.
“Almost set,” Lincoln answered me. “Just one more thing…”
He tossed a garland around my neck. I snorted but didn’t protest.
“Now you’re perfect!” He grinned. “Remember your cues?”
I rolled my eyes, good-naturedly. “Of course I remember my cues. I’m a professional.”
“That’s what I like to hear.” He started out the room and I followed with an equal amount of pep in my step.
Lincoln had big plans for his Secret Santa event – something of which I didn't originally think needed much of any planning. But in any event Lincoln put together, he committed ten times the necessary energy and focus. And I was lucky enough to also be his second. We wreaked havoc on our household with our combined forces. The guys feigned fear of our events, pretending they hated being roped into the fun. It was a farce they kept up even now as I marched into the living room.
"Uh oh," Henrik teased from his spot on the couch. He closed the book he was reading, using his index finger as a temporary bookmark.
Sam was lying on the loveseat with his legs hanging over the edge of the armrest and a glassed gaze on the ceiling. My heart tugged at the small smile he flashed in my direction. He'd been in a dark place after his relationship with Aderyn had been left in a state of limbo. I couldn't get much out of him but Finn relayed some of his fear. Sam was a large chunk of the reason why Lincoln wanted to go so hard this holiday season. The guys didn't usually exchange gifts but retail therapy was something Lincoln thought could cheer everyone up.
"What's this?" Finn was in the kitchen, loading the last bit of dishes into the dishwasher. He smiled when I twirled once for him to admire the lights on my skirt. I’d been sworn to secrecy about Lincoln’s plans but that didn’t keep me from at least showing my boyfriend the outfit earlier.
Finn loved a lot of things about my skirt…mainly how it clung to my waist and provided easy access for him to do what he wanted. My cheeks burned when I remembered how long we’d spent in our room this morning. How long he insisted on being underneath me.
Finn flashed me a knowing smile before finishing up the dishes.
“Uh…” I cleared my throat, trying to get back on track.
“The lights,” Lincoln whispered from the staircase. He tried to keep out of view, readying for his big entrance. “If I may have your attention and then, the lights.”
Sam laughed at Lincoln’s obvious coaching. Score. It wasn’t his carefree laugh but it was better than his forlorn staring.
Henrik was polite enough to pretend like he didn’t hear Lincoln. He made a noise of wonder when I clapped and the lights went out.
“Since when did we have that?” Sam sat up, completely intrigued.
“Irrelevant,” Lincoln said and then whispered to me, “Tell them it’s irrelevant.”
“I installed them last weekend,” Finn explained.
“You rewired our living room in a weekend?” Sam asked, impressed.
“It didn’t require rewiring,” Finn said.
“Nowadays, sound-sensitive lights are pretty common and simple to install,” Henrik added.
“Irrelevant,” Lincoln repeated, this time it was a plea.
“Right!” I called in a voice louder than usual. The guys jumped and turned their attention back to me. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is our main event.”
“What?” Sam glanced at his friends, searching for explanations. There was enough light from the sun setting outside to bleed into the living room and flood the floor with a warm red. The red painted their faces, revealing similar expressions of curiosity.
“All I know is that she needed sound-sensitive lights.” Finn shrugged and joined Henrik on the couch. “What she needs, I get.”
“Simple and straightforward,” Henrik said when Sam looked at him in exasperation. “Did you expect he’d be anything else?”
Sam chuckled and sighed. “No, I guess not.”
“Gentlemen,” I said and unlocked my phone to start the music. An instrumental version of A Holly Jolly Christmas played. “Tonight is our first annual Mystery Secret Santa.”
“Mystery Secret Santa?” Sam asked. “That feels repetitive. Isn’t Secret Santa already a mystery?’
I frowned. “Okay, are you going to let me finish my introduction or not? We have a dance to get through.”
“Oh, there’s a dance?” Sam’s face lit up. He pulled out his phone, ready to record. “Say less.”
Henrik and Finn tried to hold in their laughter, succeeding only when I shot them silencing glares.
“I would like to present to you this night's host,” I announced with a dramatic gesture of my arm. “Lincoln Hill.”
Henrik set his book to the side and clapped at his friend’s entrance. His smile grew wider when he saw Lincoln’s dramatic fur-lined, red cape and the oversized carpet bag he toted.
“Good evening,” Lincoln started in a deeper voice than usual. He bowed to our audience. That was my cue to turn on the multi-colored, twinkling Christmas lights I’d lined around the living room’s entrance.
Henrik’s clapping got louder and Finn joined in. Even Sam looked impressed, whistling at the light show as he directed his camera to them briefly.
“Taught her that,” Finn said quietly with pride.
I smiled at him and continued, “Mr. Hill will tell you all how our mystery will unfold.”
“Okay, Mr. Hill,” Sam teased. “Let’s see what you got for us.”
“In the two-story house, right off Highbury Lane, lived five very studious university students.” Lincoln walked around the living room as he spoke. With each sentence he said, I lit a candle. Warm light slowly brought life back into the house.
“We live off of a street,” Finn mumbled. “Right?”
“We do,” Sam assured.
“Ssh.” Henrik patted Finn’s shoulder. “It’s fine.”
“All of which,” Lincoln continued, choosing to ignore the interruption. “Had a bloody, red secret.”
“The best kind,” I said.
“Very,” Lincoln agreed and winked at me. “Each secret was written down and hidden to quell their guilt. Due to sacred law, that secret was to be revealed once a year. And during that time, they were cursed to read a fellow housemate's secret. Once the secret was shared, they would temporarily be free of guilt during the holidays. Free to be merry and bright.”
“That’s kind of sad when you think about it,” Finn mused.
“It is.” Henrik hummed in agreement.
“Okay, guys, it’s not supposed to be sad,” Lincoln quickly abandoned his spooky deep voice for his normal tone. “It’s supposed to be fun lore.”
“But we’re cursed,” Henrik teased. “How is that fun?”
“Yeah, since when are curses fun?” Sam wondered.
“I can’t.” Lincoln turned to me with a groan. “They’re so…them.”
I laughed and hurried to his side to unzip the carpet bag. “It’s fine. We’ll just move on to the picking.”
Lincoln sighed, shook out his shoulders, and resumed his narrator's voice. “One sheet for each housemate. One chance to end their guilt by confessing to their murder.”
“You’re first.” I took the bag and hurried over to Sam.
“The broody leader with a heart more tender and kind than he lets on,” Lincoln said.
“Alright, cool it with the titles,” Sam grumbled and dug his hand into the bag.
“Well?” I asked when he opened the sheet.
“Um…I can read it aloud?” he asked.
“Yes, it’s a mere riddle. Something only you and the murderer will connect on,” Lincoln said.
“That makes no sense,” Sam said and shrugged. “But whatever. It says, I murdered in secret. My feet made no sound. I can construct the coffin easily. My hands are skillful enough to handle the ground…What the hell?”
“Next,” I sang and moved to Finn.
He reached into the bag with one hand and snuck his free hand to the back of my knee. I breathed easily under his warm touch as he read his riddle.
“I murdered between jokes. Made a sound like no other. I’m an easy catch. Just remember I’m nobody's brother.”
“Can we trade?” Sam asked. “I think I know that one.”
“No trades!” Lincoln demanded. “The bag has chosen.”
“Your turn.” I smiled at Henrik and he returned it before retrieving his confession.
“I murdered in daylight. I was drowning in yellow. My fingers typed fast. I felt nothing but mellow.” Henrik chuckled. “Cute. I like this one.”
“And you.” I skipped to Lincoln and shook the bag a little. He used a hand to cover his eyes before picking.
“I murdered with a spoon. Or maybe it was a fork? Whatever it was, it happened under the moon. Whatever it was, I didn’t do it for sport.” Lincoln breathed a sigh of relief.
“And me,” I claimed the final sheet. “I murdered determined. I did it first. As a leader, I wasn’t afraid. As a person, I don’t fear any curse.”
I smiled, pleased.
“Well, there you have it,” Lincoln said.
“No, I really don’t.” Finn frowned down at his paper.
“You can get the help of one murderer,” I said. “But only one so choose wisely.”
Lincoln nodded in agreement.
“I got you,” Sam said and Finn sighed with relief. Sam whispered a name into his best friend’s ear and the guy lit up.
“Ah, that makes a lot more sense," Finn said.
“Are we good then?” Lincoln bounced on his feet again, already geared to start his Christmas shopping.
“No, not yet,” Sam said and pulled his camera back up. “We’re going to need that dance you two promised us.”
“Oh right.” I started toward the Bluetooth speaker. Lincoln caught my elbow before I could leave.
“Nope, they don’t deserve our dance.” Lincoln shook his head. “Not unless they stop laughing and appreciate our efforts.”
“No one’s laughing,” Sam said while…well, laughing.
“You're such an asshole,” Lincoln said with a smile. “No dance this time. We will reveal our talents when we know they’ll be appreciated. Right, Naomi?”
“Right, exactly.” I nodded. Finn caught my eye and something in his gaze told me I could be convinced to do a private show later.
“That’s all we have for now, folks,” Lincoln announced. “It’s up to you to do the rest. To figure out your fellow murderer and make sure your present is the best.”
“I do love it when he rhymes,” Henrik noted.
“And I don’t,” Sam joked. “But this is entertaining so I’ll allow it.”
“Come on,” Lincoln said. “Get off your butts and start looking for gifts. You’ve got twenty days until Christmas Eve. Let’s make every one of them count.”
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Holly Jolly (Chapter 2)
Summary - The only thing more frustrating than his snarky comments was how lovely his eyes were in the firelight.
Pairing - Bernard/OC
Word Count - 5049
Previous Chapter -- Next Chapter
Chapter 2 - Chestnuts Roasting
(December 26th, afternoon)
She’d been set up for about a week now, apparently. The week leading up to Christmas, it was horrible timing. Usually a human wouldn’t be able to get this close without some strategic deterrents sent their way to make them want to turn back themselves. Faced with a dangerous storm, a hungry polar bear, or a sudden crack in the sea ice, a human is much more likely to give up and leave. If they think exploring the arctic wasn’t worth it on their own then that tends to be more effective than if someone tries to convince them there’s nothing to see here, curious stubborn creatures that they are.
Bernard typed out a message to the Elfcon team on his watch asking about this obvious oversight. How had this human slipped through?
According to the team, her arrival was noted as she first made camp about 20 miles away and a snowstorm was sent to make conditions uncomfortable enough that she’d leave on her own. The report was sent to his office and he’d signed off on it himself. He could vaguely remember something about that, but he had been busy directing the Core teams on the final stretch to Christmas. An elf scout had been sent out to check on her during the storm; they didn’t want to accidentally freeze her to death after all. But while her tent and supplies were still there, she and her snowmobile were nowhere to be found. With Christmas on the horizon and no reliable way to confirm her departure with radar once the storm started, the elves assumed she had left. Not so, apparently.
She was approximately two miles east of Bernard and the reindeer and over a small ridge of icy cliffs, less than 10 miles away from the entrance to Santa’s Village. The thought of her stumbling onto their little secret was enough to make Bernard break out into a sweat. His head throbbed as he looked at the 8 uncertain reindeer out in the open.
They weren’t quite as far out from the village as they’d normally want to go, but the cliffs blocked her from seeing them here. He hopped off Dancer and told them all that this year they’d have to keep it confined to the small stretch from here to the Village and a southern flat patch that was around 8 miles total. Not nearly as good as they deserved, but this was a delicate situation here. He placed a small tracker on Dancer’s antler and told her to keep close to the other deer so he could find them all if they needed a quick getaway. She nuzzled his face in response and he gave her a pat before heading out on his own towards the cliffs. If this human wouldn’t leave by conventional means, then he’d have to get confrontational about it. An elf’s gotta do what an elf’s gotta do, afterall.
—
Holly was freezing her ass off here. Her pop up tent wasn’t as warm as her main tent at home camp, but luckily she’d found a little divot in the ice cliff she’d stumbled upon in the storm. It was enough to cut the wind at least and offer enough shelter to help her thin little travel tent keep her body heat trapped. She was glad she had the thought to bring her backpack when she saw the storm coming and took off on her snowmobile to find XJ-17’s trail. There were plenty of warm layers, rations, fire starters, and flares. She wasn’t worried about freezing to death, but it certainly was an inconvenience. She had a nice cozy set up at her home camp, which was… somewhere. That was kind of her current problem. When she saw the storm starting, she was so worried it would cover the polar bear tracks she’d found her first day on site. She didn’t even get to properly determine which direction the bear was traveling before snow started falling. She thought if she just rushed out to the last place she saw prints, she could get an idea of where to start when the storm blew over. Alas, the way to hell is paved, yadda yadda.
She got lost almost immediately. None of her radar equipment worked in the storm and surprise, surprise: the one thing she did not have in her backpack? A compass. So onward she’d traveled, practically blind in the storm, looking for something, anything she could use to find her way. When she hit the cliffs she knew she’d definitely not gone the right way and decided to hunker down and wait out the weather. It had been a solid week, if her watch was working correctly, before the storm had finally broken.
Sitting around in a tent shivering doesn’t seem too strenuous, but she was still exhausted. She couldn’t wait to start heading back to her comfortable little set up.
She looked out at the frozen land before her. The cliffs ran a good way into the distance. Across the flat ice, she saw a break in the cliffs that she recognized. Directly east from that break was her home camp. And between her and the camp was the towering jagged ice mountain she’d admired her first day in the arctic. She must have gone around it in her blind panic to find the tracks. But at least she knew how to get back! Step one, down. Those stodgy old professors who said she wouldn’t make it out here on her own could suck it. She was absolutely killing it right now.
Holly turned back towards her humble little temp camp and had to do a double take as she saw a dark figure standing on top of the cliffs above her camp. She choked on a scream as she saw the figure jump from one ledge of the cliffs down to another. That was at least a 15 foot drop!
She felt her breathing speed up as the figure smoothly hopped down two more cliffs with no problems, bringing them just one 30 foot drop away from her and her tent.
She could see them more clearly now. It was definitely a person, they looked small and wore a cloak and hood so it was impossible to make out their features except for two dark eyes peeking over the edge of a crimson scarf. Despite their acrobatics, they didn’t look particularly threatening. Still, a weapon could go a long way and there was nobody to call for help out here. She made the decision to try diplomacy here in the hopes it would at least give her a better idea of the person’s intentions.
“Hi there! That’s some fancy jumping.”
The figure kept their gaze locked on her in silence for a long moment before they suddenly jumped the remaining 30 feet, tucking into a roll before popping up onto their feet again in a practiced fluid motion.
Holly took several steps back at that, keeping a good distance between them should this strange person try to attack. Her body was tense, but she purposely kept her voice light as she exclaimed, “Wow! Very impressive!”
They stood in silence, locked in an uneasy staring contest. Holly took the opportunity to get a better look at the newcomer. Their green cloak looked thick and warm, fur lining the hood and bottom which brushed at the stranger’s knees. Golden tassels attached to the cloak hung down from under a red scarf with golden accents. Long leather boots that also looked fur lined covered what wasn’t hidden by the cloak. Their face was partially covered by the scarf and hood, but Holly could clearly see those sparkling dark eyes, unflinching in their intensity.
“Didn’t think I’d meet a LARPer all the way up here in the arctic circle.”
“What?” The stranger’s voice was deeper than her own, gruff, but with a pleasant tenor that reached her ears over the ambient sounds of wind rushing over the snow drifts, sending a pleasant tingle up her spine. What a strangely musical voice.
“Your clothes? You look like an extra out of Lord of the Rings. Or, considering where we are, maybe one of Santa’s little helpers,” she chuckled.
The stranger lifted their arms, revealing a leather gloved hand from underneath their cloak, and tugged self consciously at their hood. Holly caught a glimpse of a golden inscription stitched down the side of the green cloak, but she didn’t recognize any of the characters.
“I’m Holly, by the way.” She looked expectantly at the stiff figure standing between her and her camp.
“I’m Bernard. Nice to meet you and all, but you need to leave.”
“Oh yeah? And why’s that, Bernard?” She said slightly insulted by his brusque tone.
“You aren’t supposed to be here.”
“I am, actually. I’m with the Hale Company. I’ve been assigned to track a missing polar bear and her new cub for the research division.”
“Your presence will upset the polar bears, you should leave before they eat you.”
This guy was really starting to piss her off. “Listen, buddy—“
“Bernard.”
“—Saint Bernard, more like. If you’re so worried about the bears, then fine,” she growled, marching past him to reach her supplies and rustling around in her backpack before pulling out a folder of laminated pages. She handed him the top piece with a smug look. “See? I’m official. The Hale Company has been tracking these bears for over 20 years, so I’m pretty sure what I’m doing is perfectly fine.”
Bernard scanned the document before him, an annoyed edge crinkling the space between his brows. In a barely audible grumble he said, “Twenty years? That’s nothing. We’ve been keeping track for over 200.”
“Wait, what? Are you with a research team too?”
He started at her words, his eyes widening briefly before returning to a neutral glare. “The Hale Company. Yeah, I’m familiar with it.” His words were rushed. “Fine, but you aren’t supposed to be this far out.”
“We follow the bears, Saint Bernard. Our bear, XJ-17, has taken her cub to the mountains just northwest of here, we think.”
“You must mean Catherine, she’s the only one with a cub right now. She’s a sweet bear.”
“If that’s what your team is calling her, then sure.”
A sweet polar bear? She doubted that.
He ducked his head, seeming conflicted for a moment, before straightening up with squared shoulders. “You’re gonna freeze out here, y’know. Your little campsite here is pathetic.”
She bristled at his tone. “Excuse me? I’ve trained for years for this assignment. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. And this isn’t my main camp, it’s a temp. I got caught out in the storm. I’ll be returning to my home camp just as soon as I can.”
She turned and pointed at the distant break in the ice ridge. “See that opening? If I head that way, my camp is a straight shot east from there.”
Once again, a worried look shadowed his eyes. “You can’t go that way.”
“I have to! I’m not gonna climb the mountain, that’s crazy. I’ll just ride around it. In fact, I should probably get going soon. The storm may have broken for now, but who knows when another will hit.”
“No!” He eyed her snowmobile and the dying embers of her fire, his brows pulled tight. “Uh, I mean, shouldn’t you rest a bit first? You seem tired.”
She had planned to rest some before returning actually, but she was eager to escape the rude pushy man who had appeared from seemingly nowhere.
“Where did you come from anyways? How did you get up on those cliffs?”
“Got anything to eat?”
She was briefly thrown by his sudden inquiry. “Um, yeah, I have some rations. Why? You want something?” She felt a sinking feeling of guilt as she put the pieces together. This guy was slim and short, that much was obvious even with the thick cloak. And his voice sounded pretty young. He probably had gotten turned around in the storm himself and was far from whatever research camp he came from. He couldn’t be younger than 18, there’s no way any team would bring a kid up here with them, even for practical education. But maybe he was an advanced uni student? There were certainly other research teams who had less than ethical requirements. It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility, she supposed. So odds were that he was just a few years younger than her. He was putting on a brave face, but the stress he was under was apparent. Poor guy was probably hungry and cold and scared.
Her remaining anger melted away in an instant and she suddenly felt responsible for this young stranger. “Hey, listen. I’m sorry, okay? How about we get you something to eat and then we can find out where you come from.”
“Uh, yeah. Yeah, that would be great. Food, I mean. Thanks.”
“Of course! Have a seat. I’m out of firewood, I’m afraid, so we’ll need to eat quick and be on our way.”
“Oh, that’s not a problem. I have wood.”
“Wha—you do? Where?”
He shuffled a bit under his cloak and revealed a brown leather bag slung low at his right hip. It wasn’t very big and she started to protest, they’d need wood bigger than whatever he had in there. But her words died on her lips as he pulled several good sized cut logs from inside the bag. She blinked, and his cloak was back in place, covering the bag once again.
…She must have misjudged how big that bag was. She couldn’t believe he’d been hauling around all that wood. His shoulders are probably killing him right now.
They settled down around her new fire pit, the fire now cackling steadily as if laughing at her disgruntled appreciation. Of course he’s an expert at making cozy fires. This kid was unnaturally good at everything, it seemed. Typical young genius. She had to work her ass off the past 8 years in university to get here, and she still had some trouble making a fire by hand. But he got one going in less than a minute.
She watched as he poked the base of the flames, the flickering light reflected in his dark eyes. His eyes were quite distinct, now that she could look without him pinning her in his intimidating glare. Big and brown, deep set but with a sharp edge that kept her on her toes and made her feel uncomfortably seen. His lashes were thick and stark against the tops of his cheeks as he concentrated on his task. As she watched, a small snowflake stuck itself to the edge of his lashes.
“So do you know where ‘Catherine’s’ trail picks up? You seem to know an awful lot about polar bears.” She blurted out to distract herself from that little snowflake and the added sparkle it gave his eyes.
“As a matter of fact, I do. Not that it’s any business of yours. She’s got a cub to care for now, she doesn’t need some girl intruding on her privacy.”
She made note that he, once again, talks about the bear like she’s a sentient person. And talks about Holly like she’s five years old. So maybe he wasn’t a teenager then. But he can’t be much older than, what, mid twenties at the oldest? Her age, but definitely not older. He’s short, and the few features she can see while he’s bundled up look incredibly youthful, but the way he carries himself is more deliberate, not at all marked with the usual teen awkwardness.
He was setting up some sort of bracket. Or maybe a rack? His hands were steady as he used a metal tool to dig a narrow hole through the ice and placed polished wooden sticks in them. That bag of his had all sorts of things stored, apparently. He fastened the poles with a complicated looking tie and knot and moved to adjust the whole thing so it was above the fire.
“That’s why I need to find her! Her cub needs to be registered with our research division. We don’t know how old it is or if it’s healthy. We haven’t even been able to confirm if it’s a male or female.”
“She’s a girl. Her name is Crystal.”
“Okay…Your team sure has some weird naming conventions. But look, I can’t just—”
Holly abruptly cut herself off when she noticed Bernard was removing layers and hanging them over the rack he’d built over the fire. He’d removed his heavy cloak and hood and placed it at the right end of the rack, carefully arranging it so that it wasn’t drooping too far into the flames. Next he unwound his scarf and hung it beside the cloak. For the first time, she was able to get a good look at the tenacious man who had harassed her doggedly the past 2 hours.
Underneath his hood he wore a green beret, decorated with a small medal and ribbon that seemed like real gold, at least it looked that way in the fire light. He pulled it lower on his head and fiddled with its arrangement for a minute, trying to get it to cover his ears. Which she supposed made sense. If he didn’t have any muffs on him then it would be a bit cold to have exposed ears, even by the fireside.
His hair, a shaggy cut of bouncy dark curls, was constantly in motion as he expertly pulled at the fingers of his leather gloves, his intention obviously to place those on the rack next. His figure was clearer now, and her confusion grew as she took in his slim body shape. He wore a tunic with intricately decorated stripes of gold and silver threaded down his torso and cut off partway down by an ostentatious leather belt. Around his neck hung a wide gold necklace with what looked like bells hanging down from it. The whole thing looked almost like a costume but the obvious care put into the craftsmanship of it spoke to it being a genuine outfit. What an odd ensemble for an arctic trek. Despite his strange attire, he was proportional like a man, no gangly limbs here.
But his face was so youthful. Or was it?
His jaw was cut and square, his nose long and proud, but something about his face as a whole didn’t look quite right. His cheeks were so smooth, like he’d never needed to shave a day in his life. They were rosy and plump and she swore as the fire flickered across his face, she saw stars light up on the tops of his cheeks. Strange, but not off putting. There was something unusual about how all of his features came together though. Something otherworldly and ethereal. She brushed it off and decided he was just handsome in a unique way, which he definitely was. The warm fire and beautiful snow must just be tricking her imagination into making things seem more mystical than they actually were.
She took all this in as he placed his gloves on the rack and pushed them over to make more room. In a brief panic, she wondered what else he could possibly be planning to remove next when those sharp eyes flickered up to hers, her silence stretching a touch too long. She realized then that he was leaving room for her clothes to also hang and scrambled to remove her own coat as she continued her argument.
“—I—I can’t just take your word for it. I don’t know who you are or what team you’re with, but if you won’t identify yourself then whatever you claim about XJ—sorry, Catherine—can’t be properly recorded.”
“What does it even matter, I mean, why do you care so much if Crystal is recorded? It’s not necessary, she doesn’t need to be in your records.”
“She does, actually. In case you haven’t noticed, the sea ice is melting at an alarming rate. We need to keep track of every polar bear we can, especially now that their natural habitat is disappearing. Any researcher worth their salt knows that, Saint Bernard.” She bit out the last sentence with some frustration. “What research team did you say you were with again? Russian?”
“I didn’t.” His voice was ice. “And we’re quite aware of the climate change issue, thanks. We’re working on it.”
“You’re working on it? Okay, great, nothing to worry about then since Saint Bernard and his 200 year old research team is working on the whole ‘climate change issue’. And when can we expect a solution, chief?”
“Look, I don’t mean to minimize your work. I’m sure what you’re doing is very helpful—“
“It is, actually. These bears deserve life. Every life on this planet is precious, Bernard, even one’s out here in the remotest place on earth. I don’t know what your teams’ goal is here, but ours—mine—is to preserve habitats for the best life possible for wild animals. Polar bears are struggling and we need to help them. We can’t do that if we don’t know where they are.”
He seemed at a loss for words for a moment, staring her down with an unreadable expression. His cheeks twinkled as one side of his mouth quirked into the first smile she’d seen from him so far. Her stomach flipped at the sight of it, but her determined face remained steadfast. She believed in this with all her heart, and she wasn’t about to give up on her life’s mission just because some handsome stranger from a rival team wanted to scare her off.
“Fine.”
She broke out of her impassioned thoughts at his even tone.
“Huh?”
“I said ‘fine’. I get it. You want to record Crystal, then okay. The polar bears are traveling further and further outside their normal territory, I should have seen this coming, really. But the area they’re in now falls under our jurisdiction. The Morozko Company has precedent here, that’s our registered name by the way, since you keep asking, Morozko.”
He spoke with sure authority and she realized she must have seriously misjudged him to think he was a junior researcher. He definitely seemed like he was in some position of power. She’d been warned about the mysterious Morozko Company. No one knew what nation they were affiliated with or where they got their funding. They were a strictly by the book company and had been heading the field on arctic research for the better part of a century. Very prestigious and very exclusive. She suddenly felt a bit out of her depth here dealing with someone who was probably leagues ahead of her in knowledge and experience.
“Oh, uh, sorry I didn’t know you were Morozko.” She took the opportunity to pry a bit about the legendary team that put fear into the hearts of any unethical arctic explorers. “So are you guys Russian based?”
“Sure. Now listen, I’ll let you track Catherine for as long as you need, but you need to keep to the areas I tell you, okay? The ecosystem here is more delicate than you know.”
Her breath escaped her in a sudden rush. “Oh, wow, thank you! You have no idea how much this means to me. And yes, of course, I’ll keep to the approved areas. I’m not a complete amateur, y’know, I’m very aware of how fragile things are up here. I’ll gladly follow your lead.”
“Great, I’m glad we understand each other.”
They chatted here and there as Holly retrieved and prepared a couple of field rations. Bernard’s face was conspicuously blank as they ate and she wondered what sort of researcher that had the authority to allow her into another team’s territory wouldn’t be long used to eating the dry tasteless field rations that came standard on this sort of expedition. Morozko probably had special high-end rations or something.
He certainly was an odd little fellow. But after breaking the ice earlier, so to speak, he actually made quite good company. He was quick witted and funny and certainly knew his stuff. He gave a quick run down of the trails for quite a few bears that had gone off Holly’s radar months back, including Catherine, drawing everything out on her map for her to reference later. He marked places where she could potentially set up cameras to keep track of the bears and also marked quite a few places off limits, saying the bears didn’t come close to those areas anyways and that his team was in the middle of conducting some very temperamental observation research there. She promised not to interfere, after all, she was here for the bears. Nothing more.
He insisted they get a few hours of sleep before heading out to their respective camps. She just yawned in reply, too tired to argue.
The already light snow stopped falling altogether as they settled into sleeping bags around the fire, Holly’s tent was too small for them both and she was still a bit wary of leaving her supplies out here with a stranger. Luckily she had an extra sleeping bag for him in her snowmobile and the temperature wasn’t too frigid for sleeping with no shelter.
“So Bernard, got a last name?”
“It’s Evergreen. Bernard Evergreen.”
“You really take this LARPing thing seriously, don’t you? No, I mean for real.”
“It is for real. That’s actually my name.”
She blinked at him in mild surprise. “Wow, that’s cool then! Sounds kind of like an elf name.”
“Uh, yeah. So what about you?”
“Oh! Right. I’m called Holly but it’s not my real name. My parents started calling me Holiday when I was seven, because my British aunt said she was ‘going on holiday’ instead of ‘vacation’ and I thought it sounded so cool and fancy, so I started slipping it into any conversation I could. I think I drove everyone a bit crazy with that. Anyways, it eventually evolved into just Holly. As far as nicknames go, it isn’t the worst, I guess.”
“Holiday is a great name, though! Very festive.” He nodded with a slight smirk. “I approve.”
She rolled her eyes a bit, a smile tugging at her lips at his light teasing. “Easy for you to say, you don’t have to live with it. No one back at the station knows that’s why I go by Holly, thank god. ”
”So what’s your real name, then?”
She grimaced as she told him.
He chuckled at her exaggerated expression. “Names are important, no matter how silly it is. I’ll be sure to remember yours.”
Well that sounded ominous. “That sounds ominous as hell, you aren’t secretly a fae are you?” She said with a comically dramatic squint of her eyes. “You are dressed kind of strange, y’know. Maybe you really are one of Santa’s elves come to keep me from discovering his workshop!” She laughed at Bernard’s deadpan expression.
“Funny. Is that a dig at my height?”
“Well, now that you mention it—“
“Shut it, Holly Jolly.”
She burst into laughter at his dry remark, and he joined in with her infectious laughter. His own laugh was as musical as his speaking voice, like ringing bells and she felt like she could almost make out a melody in the lovely sounds that came from the man across the fire. It gave her a warm happy feeling that prolonged the fit of laughter they’d descended into for several minutes, one of them cracking up again and pulling the other back into mirth a few more times before they settled into a comfortable silence.
Holly’s eyes started to droop as she snuggled deeper into her sleeping bag. It had been a very long day. A long week, in fact. She couldn’t wait to get back to her home camp and relax a bit. She could hear the hot water bottle in the bottom of her trunk calling her name.
“Sleep well, Bernard.”
She couldn’t see him clearly anymore hunkered down as she was, but his quiet voice had a comforting tone to it as he answered back.
“You too, Holly.”
—
Bernard watched the human woman’s chest slow to a steady rhythm, waiting for her to fall into a deeper sleep. She was… tolerable. Good company, he had to admit. It was nice to speak to someone who wasn’t intimidated by his position. Curtis never treated him as an authority figure, but he didn’t treat him much like a friend either. More like an older brother he begrudgingly had to admit was in charge while mom and dad were away. And Judy was sweet and professional, she and Bernard had known each other for the better part of millennia. But they just didn’t have the same kind of humor and didn’t often talk about things outside of work. In a lot of ways he appreciated them both for the interaction he got with them. They were the only elves even close to his station of importance. They understood the pressure.
But Holly was sweet and smart and volleyed his comments right back at him with her own spin. She was interesting. He found himself regretting having to leave her so soon. He wouldn’t have minded another couple hours of chatting. But humans need their rest, and the reindeer needed to be brought back to the village before she started her trek. If she had left for the break in the cliffs right then, she could have gotten an eyeful of flying reindeer. This whole situation was too close a call for his comfort.
He pulled himself from the sleeping bag she’d generously provided and quickly dressed himself back into his warmer outside cloak and scarf. He grabbed a pen from her supply bag and wrote a quick note explaining his absence for when she woke up and started tugging his gloves back onto his hands. He watched her peaceful face as he did, and found himself admiring the shine of starlight on her hair. It looked quite soft and pleasant to touch if he had felt so inclined. Which of course, he didn’t. That would be creepy.
Her lips were pouted in sleep. ‘Cute.’ He thought to himself.
She was a nice human, all things considered. Respectful and willing to play by the rules. He could work with that.
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Neris Christmas Hallmark Movie AU
Part Four of Four
Merry Christmas. I hope you've enjoyed this tooth-decay inducing story of two grinches.
A shake jolted her out of sleep. Nesta blinked a few times, trying to will her eyes to adjust to the darkness surrounding them in the small bedroom. Half of the room had unicorns papered to the wall, the other half had dinosaurs. All of the plush toys had ended up piled at the bottom of her bed.
‘Wake up, Nesta. You must have been a good girl because Father Christmas has visited!’
Was Eris always this awake in the mornings? She had debated finding out, but now, she wasn’t so sure she wanted to spend more mornings with him.
‘What are you shouting about?’
A piece of paper torn out from a notebook had been folded beside her pillow. Eris leaned over her bed to draw back the curtain enough to let a sliver of light into the room. Nesta still had to blink to try and focus her eyes in the hard light.
‘What’s this?’ She asked softly.
Amongst a few terrible drawings of Christmas trees and bunches of holly, Eris had written “admit two” in a sloping script.
‘We’re going to the Nutcracker on the twenty-eighth. I bought the tickets last night.’
‘You didn’t have to do that.’
His red hair was messy from sleep. On his top, the Grinch was staring at her too with his massive, yellow eyes. Eris shrugged. ‘It’s Christmas.’
‘No,’ Nesta complained with a dramatic flop back onto the pillows. ‘You’re infected too.’
‘I saw the tears last night. You’ve got the Christmas bug.’
‘No, I’m just a fan of fine cinema,’ she protested weakly.
‘Every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings.’
Nesta burrowed deeper into the blanket. ‘Don’t set me off again. I never cry.’
It had been a beautiful film. One that left her pondering life as she lay in the narrow bed listening to Eris toss and turn beside her.
She tucked the note beneath her pillow for safekeeping, touched that he’d followed through with his suggestion to sit through a ballet with her. ‘I didn’t get you anything.’
Eris sucked in a breath. ‘Haven’t you learned? It’s not about presents. Not really. It's the memories we create.’ He took a sweeping bow. ‘Your presence is a present.’
‘Urgh, Eris. Stop. I’ll throw up. Are you always like this in the mornings?’
‘Maybe you’ll find out.’
Those few words made her pulse judder to a stop. A sudden flush of heat washed over her at the implication of his words.
‘Get out so I can get dressed,’ she muttered, avoiding looking at him.
‘It’s actually a legal requirement that on Christmas Day you can’t wear anything other than pyjamas.’
‘I am in hell,’ Nesta said to herself.
‘Don’t you want to be matching with me? Besties?’
‘Eris,’ she practically shrieked. ‘Enough, Cindy Lou Who.’
On this one special day, Elain had allowed her children to abandon their cereal. Breakfast seemed to be whatever they could lay their hands on – yesterday’s biscuits, chocolate, candy, or mince pies. Nesta settled beside her sister on the couch, coffee clutched in their hands as the children squealed at the sight of snowy footprints leading to the fire place and half-chewed carrots. All of the adults had taken a turn before bed on chowing down on the carrots to encourage the belief while Lucien drizzle flour on the floor in the shape a of a shoe print.
There were messy bed-heads and bleary eyes all around – but so much joy too. The children brandished their gifts with utter delight in complete amazement that Santa Claus had landed right on the money with every present.
‘Now, I need to apologise,’ Lucien began as he handed her a present from beneath the tree. ‘We actually bought you this when we invited you over for the first year in this house – and that was seven years ago – so we can’t even remember what’s in it.’
‘Ha, ha,’ Nesta said with a roll of her eyes.
‘I know you hate your electronic diary,’ explained Elain as Nesta peeled away the paper.
It was a beautiful diary with heaps of stationary and a gorgeous fountain pen. Thought had gone into it – but that really was all Nesta’s personality had become. She’d become a robot who lived to work. Even herself, she could not say what her hobbies were. Examining statistics? Making grown men shrink in their seats when they tried to interrupt her?
‘It’s lovely, thank you. Will you let me know all of the kids’ recitals or important dates – or when you want a babysitter?’
Elain gave her a doubtful look.
‘I mean it. I want to be more present.’
Nesta gave her sister a squeeze then sank back against the couch, watching the rest of the morning unfold.
When it came time to prepare the lunch, Lucien and Elain were glad for babysitters to keep the children entertained so they could bar themselves into the kitchen.
The four of them were trapped in the living room putting batteries into new toys or freeing Barbies from their packaging. Each toy held their attention for roughly four and a half minutes until they moved onto the next thing. Even Eris seemed happy to be swept along by it while the smells of the turkey roasting wafted through the house. Lucy was clipping sections of his hair back then dragging a brush through them, ignorant of the clips tearing at Eris’ roots.
‘You look beautiful,’ Nesta called over the Lego set that Jos was instructing her how to build while he shovelled in marshmallows.
Eris gave a nod. ‘I feel positively radiant.’
There was a call from the children’s grandma during the morning where Eris had to instruct her how to flip the camera around so they could see her face rather than the wall opposite. Nesta always forgot how pretty Lucien’s mother was. Not the grandma from films with grey, permed hair, but young with the same red hair as her sons and a lovely, smiling face. Lucy and Jos showed her all of their presents then delighted at her promise to be there in a few days to visit. There were pictures of her up in the house too, so Nesta knew her promises weren’t empty. Even if Lucien was estranged from his father, his mother still held onto their relationship.
There were not enough chairs at the table for them so Lucien brought in camping chairs from the shed. As unexpected guests, she and Eris insisted on sitting on them but the children thought they were positively brilliant and clamoured to sit on them instead. It meant they were far lower than the rest of them so drizzled gravy down their tops and laps. Elain just looked at the growing pile of washing from the last couple of days then gave a lazy shrug. Kids were kids.
The highlight was definitely when Lucien tried to flambé the Christmas pudding, charred the entire thing and set the smoke alarm off. Nesta laughed so hard that she snorted.
‘I’m so glad I married you,’ smiled Elain as she tugged him down to kiss.
When they were all stuffed to bursting, Eris volunteered that he and Nesta would tackle the mountain of dirty dishes that had piled up. Others might have waved it away, claiming they were guests, but their siblings scurried off to the living room to digest their food slumped on the cushions.
‘I have to admit, you have good ideas sometimes,’ Nesta said as she rinsed off a plate.
‘Which one?’
She slipped her fingers into her pyjamas to demonstrate their flexibility. ‘Elastic waistbands. Game changer.’
‘When this is done, I’m having a nap like a snake who needs to not move to digest its food.’ Eris leaned over her to put the dried glasses away, his chest brushing against her shoulder with the motion. ‘So, do you think you’ll be here next year?’
‘I suppose Christmas isn’t that bad. Not really. I could do without the two-month procession prior, but,’ she sighed through her nose, ‘I’ve enjoyed it.’
The man gave a sharp gasp, eyes going wide. ‘You did? A Christmas miracle.’
He held her gaze a little too long. Long enough for Nesta to hastily turn back to the sink with her pulse echoing in her ear drums. There had been something hungry in it. Something that was catching.
It had been a long, long time since she’d let a man stay the night in her bed. The rare times it had happened, she’d slipped out at dawn, showered, dressed, and put her make up on before he’d even had a chance to roll over. That casual intimacy was too much. It led to a suggestion of other. Of being complacent around each other, being casual and cosy, warts and all. Never in her wildest dreams would she be in matching Grinch pyjamas, hair a mess, no make up on, with a man who she was sleeping in adjacent beds with. And yet Nesta didn’t mind. Her and Eris were in the same boat here - two losers with no other plans on Christmas. He still had fluffy, flamingo clips in his hair – as if he hadn’t realised that they remained – which clashed with the vibrancy of the red. He hadn’t pried into her employment or suggested ways for her to be more efficient. Eris had made this holiday enjoyable – even if he had bruised her on the ice with his disastrous rescue attempt.
With only the radio filling the silence, they went on ploughing their way through the dishes, until Eris spoke.
‘I’d like to see you next Christmas.’
Butterflies fluttered in her stomach at the thought. ‘You’ll see me for the ballet.’
‘Maybe I want to wear matching pyjamas with you next year too.’
She gave a non-committal shrug. ‘Maybe you’ll have a girlfriend next Christmas.’
Aware of his looming presence beside her, Nesta raised her eyes to his face. Stubble was growing through on his sharp features which somehow softened them. In his business attire, Eris was handsome in a pristine, refined sense. This was better – sleepy-eyed and soft with a tuft of hair sticking up on one side.
‘Maybe,’ he replied, not tearing his eyes from her.
When his eyes dropped to her lips, Nesta blurted, ‘Do you want to dance?’
‘In the kitchen?’
She tried to chase away her blush with a scoffing sound. ‘Where else? It’s Christmas after all.’
One hand settled on her waist. Eris gave a slow shake of his head then pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. ‘How could it be so? It came without ribbons. It came without tags. It came without packages, boxes or bags.’
‘Stop rhyming,’ she warned, pressing a finger to his lips. ‘I mean it, Eris.’
‘Maybe Christmas doesn’t come-’
Nesta fought to press her hand against his mouth as he tried to lurch his head upwards and out of her grip.
‘-from a store. Maybe Christmas-’
‘I am going to kill you,’ declared Nesta as she still tried in vain to muffle his words.
Eris seized her, both arms wrapping around her to keep her jailed against him. ‘-perhaps means a little bit more.’
If somebody waved a red flag in front of her then Nesta might have charged out of his arms like a bull. His heart thudded against her body.
‘I didn’t realise you were actually Dr Seuss,’ she said.
Her voice had fallen to a hush due to the closeness of their bodies. She risked a glance up at him. ‘Stop smiling.’
The embrace went tighter. It was not tight enough to crunch her bones, but enough that she could notice the shift in his behaviour from playful to serious - as if that hug meant as much to him as it did to her.
Her arms slipped around his body and her cheek rested against him, face tucked against his neck as they danced slowly in the kitchen.
She had to be insane for this. If Elain or Lucien walked in… Worse, if one of the children did…
It’s Christmas, she thought firmly. Everything can be excused away with Christmas.
Eris stroked her skin back and forth as they moved in time to the music. It was less of a dance, more just two people swaying whilst holding onto each other. His body was warm against her – and she could have stayed nuzzled against him for an age.
‘Isn’t this a break up song?’ He said, grinding to a stop.
‘A Christmas break up,’ Nesta said, scrunching up her nose.
‘Good enough,’ replied Eris before resuming their slow dance.
The song shifted to one they’d need to Charleston to in order to keep pace with it, but they hadn’t broken apart from each other.
‘I wish there was mistletoe here,’ he murmured against her golden hair.
A smile tugged at her lips. ‘You don’t need mistletoe as an excuse to kiss me.’
‘I don’t?’
Her no came out as a whisper as Nesta tilted her head up towards Eris just as he leaned down to kiss her. His lips were soft, pressing against her just enough for her to lean into him, quietly demanding a little more. The warmth from his fingers brushed against her neck as he deepened the kiss.
‘Ooops,’ came Lucien’s voice as he swung into the kitchen then promptly lurched back out of the room.
They leapt away from each other as if they’d been electrocuted.
‘We were just… We were…’ Nesta fumbled.
‘I know exactly what you were doing – I have two kids.’ Lucien strode through the middle of them to brew a fresh pot of coffee so Nesta took that as her moment to scurry into the lounge though her cheeks felt as if they were glowing as red as Rudolph’s nose.
Eris didn’t linger with his brother either, preferring to race after her and sit at the opposite end of the couch with more formality than he had the entire time they’d visited.
She focused harder than ever on the television screen, pretending Lucy’s show was the most riveting thing she had ever witnessed rather than acknowledge Eris’ presence near her.
A tray of coffee was brought in and settled on the table wherever there was space for it. Lucien fumbled in his wallet then handed over twenty dollars to his wife. ‘You win.’
For a moment, Elain puzzled at the money in her hand then her jaw dropped open. Her brown eyes shot to Nesta and Eris. ‘I told you!’
‘Told you what?’ Jos asked.
‘Adult things, baby.’
‘You made a bet?’ Eris asked, a hand going across his heart.
‘Finally,’ Elain exclaimed.
‘We’ve been trying to set you up for seven years.’
Nesta felt her brows pull together. ‘You made a bet seven years ago that we’d kiss?’
‘No,’ Lucien said with a dismissive wave. ‘We made a bet that you would kiss this weekend. But it’s been seven years in the making. Each barbeque and dinner party and birthday, we’ve tried to push you two together but either one of you doesn’t show up or neither of you does. The stars have finally aligned.’
‘You’re perfect for each other.’
Lucien counted out the reasons on his fingers. ‘Both live in the same city, both career driven, both workaholics who act like Scrooge-’
‘Ouch,’ Eris protested.
‘Both big softies at your core,’ he finished. 'It starts with a kiss then it will snowball.'
Jos groaned loudly from the rug on the floor. ‘Why are you talking about kissing?’
Thank goodness for her nephew’s intervention. ‘Jos, have you shown your parents the harmonica auntie Feyre got for you?’
‘She got him a what?’
Even hours later, Nesta was still sure that her cheeks were red enough to lead a sleigh. Well, at least they matched Eris’ hair. She fluffed up the pillow before settling in beneath the quilt. Tomorrow, she would drive back to the city. Most people weren’t back into the office for another day or two – so maybe she’d leave the emails until then too.
In the bed next to her, Eris had been reading until he’d paused to ask, ‘Do you still want to go to the ballet with me?’
‘Why wouldn’t I?’
He rolled onto his side to look at her. ‘I don’t know. You seemed pretty embarrassed about the kiss. We can wave it away with this Christmas nonsense, if that’s what you want.’
‘It wasn’t the kiss. It was the fact your brother walked in on us. I felt like a scandalised teenager being caught in public.’
Eris leaned over to sweep her hair from her face. ‘The next time I kiss you, it will be done in private. I promise.’
‘Idiot.’
A slow smile spread across his face as he burrowed beneath the duvet, book stowed away in No Man’s Land. ‘Merry Christmas, Nesta.’
‘Merry Christmas, Eris.’
'Here's to many more.'
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Shadows Tell Me (If He Really Cares) (1/4)
Summary: For someone whose job title is “spymaster of the Night Court”, Azriel Shadowsinger is surprisingly oblivious to Gwyneth Berdara’s heavy-handed flirtation this Winter Solstice season (or is he?). What will it take for these bumbling fools to get together before the night ends? A mish-mash of Gwynriel holiday fluff (set post-ACOSF).
A gift for @shadowsxgwynriel via @acotargiftexchange!! It was a pleasure getting to know you!! Merry Christmas from Santa!!
Notes: I made a Youtube playlist to go with this fic! I’m sorry I could not fulfill the request for fan art/edits, I simply do not know how to draw, photoshop, or video edit. Please accept this humble playlist as a bonus.
Read: AO3
🎄Two weeks before Solstice🎄
It was technically Emerie’s idea to create Solstice bags for the Illyrian children at Windhaven, but it was Cassian who was most enthused about the whole premise. ‘Twas the night before the event, so the little group of friends were merrily working on the treat bags up in the House of Wind. The group sat cross-legged on soft rugs and pillows, the red walls and golden faelight keeping them cozy on such a cold winter night.
They worked industriously: Emerie putting in the wool socks, Mor the beeswax candle, Gwyn the candies, Nesta the mittens, and Cassian the colored pencils into the burlap bags. The treat bags were tied off with pretty ribbons and adorned with a holly branch.
A draft blew in as Azriel walked into the room. The shadowsinger’s onyx black hair and Illyrian leathers were dusted with snow, indicating he’d returned from a colder climate. “Az, come help us!” Mor called cheerfully.
Azriel cocked his head curiously at the group. “Solstice treat bags?” he asked quietly.
“Yes,” replied Nesta. “Lend Gwyn a hand. She’s holding up the flow.”
“Am not!” Gwyn threw a chocolate across the circle at Nesta, who easily caught it in her mouth. Azriel’s hazel eyes darted to Gwyn, his brows raising slightly at the pretty priestess in her snug wool robes.
“Let me change first,” was all he said. When Azriel returned wearing a fitted gray shirt and soft black pants, Gwyn couldn’t help noticing how his clothes clung to defined abdominal muscles, how nicely shaped his ass was, or how his magnificent wings flared as he walked.
“You and me both, Gwyn,” Cassian quipped, noticing her gawking. Gwyn quickly tore her eyes away from Azriel’s impressive physique.
“What?” Azriel demanded as he wedged himself between Gwyn and Mor. Shadows wreathed his arms like wisps of smoke, two of them darting out to peek at what Gwyn was doing.
“You have a nice rear end, Az,” Cassian smirked. Azriel rolled his eyes and calmly sipped from the cup he was holding.
“Yeah, we were just admiring the view,” Gwyn added with a smile. Azriel choked and sputtered, his face red.
“I’m the Night Court’s spymaster, not eye candy” Azriel grumbled in response. “Hand over the peppermints, you little pervert.” Gwyn grinned cheekily, dragging the heavy sack of hard candies over to him.
“That smells good!” She scooted close to Azriel, pressing her knee against his and peering into his cup. “What are you drinking? Can I have a sip?”
“It’s green tea. You can have some.” Azriel handed Gwyn his mug, keeping his knee pressed against her’s. He watched the priestess closely as she blew softly on the steaming liquid.
“It’s nice. Thanks!” Gwyn went back to dishing candies into the little bags. Azriel nodded, his face neutral as he sipped tea from the same spot Gwyn’s soft lips were just on.
Across the circle, Nesta and Cassian were watching the little interaction like hawks. The mated pair gave each other pointed looks and smirked. “Ahem,” Cassian snickered, failing to hide his grin.
Azriel’s blasé expression dropped at his brother’s teasing. The shadowsinger leaned back so that Gwyn could not see him glaring at Cassian. Shut up, he mouthed, his face turning red again. Cassian’s grin only grew wider. Gwyn, seemingly oblivious, hummed softly beside Azriel as she dropped chocolates into the bags.
Of course, Gwyn knew perfectly well what was going on. She was hypersensitive to everything the spymaster did. She knew his breakfast routine (tea first, eggs, then toast with a bit of jam), knew what color his wings were (dusky brown, amber red in the daylight), felt him blink, felt him sigh…
What started as a little crush several months ago spiraled out of control into…well, insanity.
Gwyn was familiar with crushes; she had crushes before on several Sangravah regulars and males in the next town over. But when she looked at Azriel, she could hardly breathe. Surely other people didn’t notice the hues of emerald and gold in his hazel eyes every time Azriel looked at them, right? Surely the other priestesses didn’t feel electricity through their veins whenever he brushed by them, right?
It was absurd, the way he plagued her thoughts day and night. When it was just the two of them talking late into the night, she felt he knew her better than anyone else. Better than Nesta, Emerie, and even Catrin. When he was away on missions, her anxiety for his safety would keep her up all night and she always said an extra blessing to the Mother for his survival.
And when Gwyn’s pale fingers brushed against Azriel’s scarred ones as she passed him a bag, neither of them flinched. After Sangravah, Gwyn thought she would never be able to stomach physical contact from males ever again. But touching Azriel and being close to him always made her feel alive. Yep. This is utter insanity.
“Anyways…” Cassian began, trying to hold back his chuckles. “Balthazar says he convinced several Illyrians at his war camp to create Solstice treat bags for the children as well. Your ideas are taking off, Emerie.” The general had been in regular contact with the Illyrian male who helped Nesta and Emerie during the Blood Rite.
“That’s good to hear,” Emerie sighed worriedly. “I hope this works out.”
“It will. It’s a great way to foster holiday cheer and friendship,” Mor assured Emerie. “I had a last minute idea. What if we prepared warm cider, snacks, and games for the children”
“I’d like that,” Emerie nodded shyly. Now it was Gwyn and Nesta who exchanged a knowing smirk. Mor had been showing up to more and more training sessions lately, and it certainly wasn’t to spend time with Cassian and Azriel.
“Great! I can bring the supplies when I take you back to Windhaven.” The two females began chatting animatedly about treats the Illyrian children would like most.
Sangravah was the last time Gwyn truly interacted with children, and she wondered where they were now. If they had any recollection of that horrible night. How they were adjusting, three years later. Shadows glided towards her like concerning mother hens. You good? Azriel’s hazel eyes seemed to ask as he noticed the shadows’ behavior.
“So I was wondering,” Emerie broke in, “Azriel, would you like to join us in handing out the bags to the children tomorrow?”
“Probably not. I have some reports I need to write up for Rhys,” he replied casually. The shadows returned to swarming Azriel’s face.
As if, Gwyn thought. Azriel is hardly the procrastinator. She was well aware Azriel avoided Windhaven because of his dislike for his own people. Held captive by his father, burned by his own brothers, mistreated due to his bastard status…he wanted little to do with the Illyrians despite the cobalt siphons he wore and the tattoos inked into his skin.
“Gwyn, how about you?”
Remember what happened the last time you went to Windhaven? The anxiety in her head whispered. Gwyn shoved the brutal memories away. No. She would succeed in breaking out of her comfort zone. If she could go to Nesta and Cassian’s mating ceremony at the River House and visit the Velaris Harvest Festival, she could pass out Solstice treat bags to children.
Cassian and Mor are experienced warriors…they wouldn’t let anything happen to me. And it’s not living if I always take the safe road, Gwyn told herself. I am the rock against which the surf crashes, and I will not be broken. “I’d like to go,” she answered resolutely. “It would be nice to interact with some children again!”
🎄The next day🎄
Liar, liar, shadowsinger. You don’t have any reports to write. Join them tomorrow. You know you want to see our priestess. Why do you deny yourself so?
Azriel’s shadows pestered him all night with incessant whispering until he finally relented. He winnowed into Windhaven shortly after Gwyn and Nesta left, landing just outside of Emerie’s clothing store without a sound. A crowd of Illyrian children had already gathered in front of several tables laden with snacks and games.
His shadows wiggled with glee at the sight of Gwyn standing several yards away, but Azriel promptly dispatched half of them on surveillance duty. They sulkily flew off.
Having female Blood Rite champions—two Carynthian and one Oristian—could draw the wrong sort of crowd. The Valkyries had significantly improved their combat skills since the spring, but he was not taking any chances. And Gwyn was clearly apprehensive about returning to Windhaven. Azriel knew his—the—priestess put on a brave face, but extra protection to make her feel more comfortable wouldn’t hurt.
“I thought you weren’t coming, Az!” Gwyn’s pretty teal eyes held no sign of nervousness as she walked up to him. The priestess had left her robes behind for a wool shirt, thick jacket, and pants. The Valkyrie ribbon fluttered around her arm, and Azriel could spy the faint outline of a dagger under her jacket. Gwyn handed him a cup of steaming cider, which he gratefully took. The blistering winds of the Illyrian Steppes were no joke, and he appreciated every bit of warmth he got.
Azriel shrugged. “I figured you’d need someone to keep the children from beating each other up for the Solstice bags,” he joked wryly. “How are you doing?”
“I’m alright,” she replied. Azriel detected only honesty in her tone. “I thought it would be scary coming back, but the camp is actually very quaint during the day. Having the children around certainly helps.”
“Quaint is…generous,” he muttered, running a hand through his onyx hair. There were only sparse buildings and a cruel wilderness around them. Windhaven was a bittersweet memory for him. It was where he’d escaped his barbaric father and found a true family with Rhys and Cassian. But on the other hand, it was a place of countless brutal fights, of jeers at his scarred hands and his inability to fly as an Illyrian male.
“Did you finish writing your reports?” Gwyn asked. The wind whipped her coppery red hair in her face, and Azriel’s fingers itched to tuck the wayward strands behind her pointed ear.
“Yeah. Stayed up all night to finish them up,” Azriel replied casually.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Gwyn said with a small smile. “I’m sure the children will appreciate it.”
“Sure,” Azriel scoffed. “The children are all scared of me.”
The Valkyrie wrinkled her nose like a bunny. Cute, Azriel thought distractedly, vaguely aware that he was staring at Gwyn openly. “Why would they be scared of you?”
“Good morning, boys and girls!” Emerie interrupted their conversation, clapping her hands to get the rowdy younglings’ attention. The female, with her white Valkyrie ribbon braided into her brown hair, stood tall in her Illyrian training leathers. Making a clear political statement to those around her. “My name is Emerie, and I’m so glad you’re here today! Are we ready to have some fun?”
A chorus of yes, Emerie echoed across the crowd. Azriel had never seen the Illyrian children so excited. A good mix of boys and girls, ranging from the ages of five to thirteen, made up the sea of black hair, warm brown skin, and chubby cheeks. Small leathery wings, with nubby claws on top, excitedly bobbed and flapped.
It was clear who the bastard children were: their faces more gaunt, they sported more visible injuries, and their clothes were threadbare. Azriel’s throat tightened with emotion. I used to be like one of them, he recalled. I wonder if any of them will make it out of this hellish place.
“I need you all to form a line, and take one Solstice bag each!” Emerie continued to announce. “If I catch any whiff of fighting or stealing each others’ treats, we won’t be having treats next year! Is that understood?” Another series of yes, Emerie floated up from the crowd as the younglings eagerly made their way towards the table.
“They’re so cute,” Gwyn leaned over and whispered to Azriel. Her eyes twinkled with affection. “Look at their little wings! I can’t believe you and Cassian were once so small.”
Azriel chuckled. “Don’t be fooled. Illyrian children are mischievous little devils, Berdara.”
“Are you speaking from experience, Shadowsinger?” she teased.
“I’ll have you know I was the do-gooder out of our trio. It was mostly Cassian getting in trouble for stupid shit.”
“Of course it was Cassian. What did I expect?” The priestess laughed softly. “I’m going to go help Emerie and Nesta with the treat bags. See you later, shadowsinger.”
Azriel forced himself to look away from Gwyn’s retreating form. He glanced at Cassian, whose rugged face was gentle as he spoke to the bastard children. The general even allowed them to touch his glowing red Siphons. Across the way, Emerie moved with new confidence while regaling children with stories of her training. While some younglings looked nervous, many others—especially the bastard children and girls—gazed at their general and Valkyrie in awe.
Azriel did not do well with children. He hadn’t a clue how to interact with them, thanks to his formative years being locked away in his father’s dungeon. He couldn’t joke around like Cassian, couldn’t smile freely like Mor. He didn’t command their attention like Rhys. Every interaction with children felt awkward and fake. And it didn’t help that the children were afraid of him, drawing back from his scarred hands and the razor sharp Truth-Teller strapped to his hip.
So he joined Mor at the table to assist with ladling cups of cider and doling out baked sweets. To his surprise, most of the children hung around, chatting with each other and playing games on the ground. Perhaps some things had changed in the last 500 years. The children seemed to have more camaraderie with each other; their faces were kinder, their actions more courteous. Smiles and gleeful laughter were also a pleasant change of scene from the stony-faced war lords he was so used to seeing.
“Az, can you help bring more treat bags from inside Emerie’s shop?” Mor asked him. “We’re running low up front.”
“Sure.” Azriel broke away from the hubbub, ducking into the tidy clothing store to grab a stack of crates from behind the counter. When he walked back out, he was greeted by Gwyn’s melodic giggle.
Gwyn was surrounded by a gaggle of younglings. The beautiful priestess had stooped down so that she was eye-level with a boy of no more than nine. The timid look in his hazel eyes and the bashful tuck of his velvet wings reminded Azriel so much of his younger self, when Rhys and Cassian initially took him in. And to see Gwyn approaching the child with such open gentleness made something in Azriel’s heart crack.
One moment he was staring at Gwyn handing the gift bag to the boy with a charming smile. The next moment he walked right into the display table.
Crash! His shadows scattered in every direction to save the crates of goodies that had gone flying into the air. Not a single one of them cared about Azriel tangling himself in the tablecloth and slamming into the cold ground.
Total silence ensued as the children gawked in disbelief. The graceful spymaster of the Night Court had taken a clumsy tumble, which was something they didn’t see every day. Azriel could feel his face heating up as he picked himself up hastily, shaking off his injured pride with a quick ruffle of his membranous wings. Fuck. Gwyn must’ve seen everything.
Several of the children began to giggle, breaking the silence. “Are you alright, Az?” Mor worriedly asked him as she reset the table with a wave of a hand.
“Yes,” he muttered, shooting a glare at his shadows. Little traitors. Gwyn was hurrying over, a hand over her mouth doing a poor job of hiding her smile.
“You’re never going to live that down, are you?” Azriel grumbled at the laughter in her eyes.
“Oh no, of course not. And I see where your shadows’ priorities lie.” Gwyn nodded at the unscathed crates of Solstice treat bags. She pulled a handkerchief out. “You have a bit of dirt on your face.” She reached up to gently wipe away the smudge on Azriel’s cheek, showing him the smudge on the white cloth.
“Thank you,” he murmured, feeling his skin awaken at her close proximity. All he could smell was Gwyn’s lovely scent of fresh books and lilies.
A little girl standing next to Gwyn curiously looked up at Azriel. “Gwyn, is the spymaster your boyfriend?” the child asked innocently. The children around them perked up, glancing at the two of them with renewed interest.
Gwyn brushed off the question with an awkward laugh. “Oh, no. Mr. Azriel is just a good friend.”
Just a friend. Who knew such soft words could crush his heart so mercilessly?
Azriel wasn’t sure what he was expecting. They were friends, after all. Still, after several weeks of Gwyn’s flirty comments and deliberate touches, he thought she harbored some stronger affections for him. Thought there was some undeniable chemistry and magic between them.
It was flirting, right? Or was it just his wishful thinking?
Azriel was distinctly aware of his shadows mournfully keening by his ears. She does not love us, shadowsinger, they wailed. Our priestess only sees us as friends!
Oh, be quiet, Azriel admonished them silently. We are lucky Gwyn considers me her friend.
“Really?” the little girl asked again. “Then why is he blushing?”
Gods, were children normally so…blunt? The little girl stared up at him with a challenging look in her hazel eyes. Azriel crossed his arms over his chest and stared back with an equally disgruntled expression. The little girl clearly had the Valkyrie spirit, because she shrugged and walked away.
“It seems your fearsome reputation does not extend to all children,” Gwyn laughed.
Read: Chapter 2
#gwynriel#gwyn berdara#azriel shadowsinger#gwynriel fanfiction#gwynriel fluff#acotar gift exchange#acotar secret santa#acotar solstice#acotar secret santa 2022
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ballerina thing for the WIP Game this week, since you said it's almost finished! (but if you finish it, then psych au!)
Ended up putting way more than 3 in the pursuit of finishing this! It still isn't totally done, but it's definitely close enough that it hopefully won't feature on this week's challenge
WIP Wednesday | Make Me Write
“Steve,” Holly buzzes, grabbing his hand with no hesitation, “Fairy Chrissy said that I can be a dancer too! Can Santa bring me shoes like hers?”
Christmas is a week away, if Stever were guessing, he’d say the Wheelers have had Holly’s presents picked out and put away for most of the month. “I don’t know, Hols, Christmas is pretty close and the North Pole is pretty far. Do you think the mailman would have time to get all the way up there in time?”
Her shoulders slump, making Steve immediately feel like the worst person in the universe for crushing her dreams. “He's watching though, so I bet he saw you ask right now,” he does his best to smile, hoping it's comforting since it feels tight-lipped and desperate.
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Phantom Carols
For the @jatp-adventevent prompt: Who likes Christmas the most and the least?
Day Seven: Ghost of Christmas Past <-AO3!
When Luke was a kid, Christmas was his favourite time of year. He loved the food, and the presents, the decorations and the music. Just everything about the whole season made him come alive.
Right after Thanksgiving, his mom would take out the Advent candles, and he would be vibrating, knowing it was time. Slowly the house would be transformed; wreaths of holly, strings of lights, tinsel adorning the large pine in the corner. Brightly coloured paper and bows started covering boxes-all of which he was not allowed to shake-and cards decorated the mantle piece.
He’d watch in wonder as his mom baked up a frenzy, weighing, mixing, measuring each and every ingredient to make cookies galore. Shortbreads, sugar cookies, snowballs, snickerdoodles, little raspberry filled ones, and she always let Luke help. Even if all he got to do was add sprinkles or a dusting of icing sugar, or even just lick the bowl, he delighted in helping her.
As time went on though, Christmas lost some of its magic. First when he learned The Truth About Santa. Then when the gifts became more practical, less fun. Sure he needed new socks, but he missed the years when he got a new Gameboy or a guitar for the holiday over clothes.
Then, as the band starts to take off, it gets bad.
His mom wants him at home, as a family, not playing gigs. It’s not like he was going to play on the day itself, but she wanted him home throughout December, and each time he argued that the band was important, his music was important, she would shout back that the family was important too.
“Not if you can’t support me it’s not!”
“Then go! If you truly don’t care about this family, about this holiday, take your guitar and go!”
Luke won’t ever forget the way the lights from the tree reflected in his mother’s tears as he ran out. Or the way he could still hear the radio blasting Christmas songs as he stormed out, the slamming of the door echoing two broken hearts.
Luke didn’t know that would be his last Christmas alive.
Honestly being a ghost didn’t make it any better. Because he could see his mom putting up those same decorations she always had, still making those same cookies, though she mostly gave them away now. Could see the unopened presents stacked in the closet of his room, collecting dust. Could see the haunted look in her eyes when she looked at the third stocking in the box, and never hung it up.
He longed for the power to haunt her, but she was no Scrooge, and him no Marley. She deserved to grieve how she wanted, to keep celebrating, even as muted as the joy was. Luke wondered if she could even bear to think of that last fight, those last angry words, because they cut him like a knife, repeating in his heart as WHAM! played on in the kitchen.
He wished he could change things, could at least let them know he was okay. Julie had let them know he was sorry, had brought them his song, but he doubted even that could heal the sadness that was sure to linger today.
He watched as his mom hung one last decoration on the tree, a little picture of him as a baby in a cutesy frame. She pressed a kiss to it, whispering, “Merry Christmas Luke.”
Luke sniffled, wiped away the tear streaking down his face, and pressed a kiss to her temple, intangible and cool. “Merry Christmas mom. Wish I could celebrate with you.”
Luke turned away, getting ready to poof back to the garage, back where Christmas didn’t exist because neither Reggie nor Alex were keen to celebrate either, and just prayed they could wait out this holiday without regret eating him alive.
But he still snagged a few cookies to give to Julie and her family. Even if he didn’t want anything to do with this holiday any more, he could still do something nice for them.
He didn’t even notice the tin marked with Julie’s name on it sitting on the kitchen counter. All he saw was the memories of his mom and him, baking together, happy and whole, and never to be again.
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Destiel Month, 7 Nov.: Decorate
"You're welcome," Dean said. Entirely too easy to smile at Cas these days. He kept catching himself doing it.
It kept…not feeling weird.
deancas ust, s9 au + human cas
Shout out and thank you to @clenster for a specific character beat in this one :)
Dean heaved his giant sack from Bullseye onto Cas's bed and grinned. "Check it out – we hit up the clearance aisle and found some good bargains." He felt like Santa bestowing gifts upon orphans as he started to unload his finds, the first of which were three green and white striped beach towels big enough even for his behemoth of a brother.
Cas said, "But those don't match."
"Don't match what?"
"The other towels." Cas's face was a masterpiece of confusion. "The other towels are pale yellow."
"So?"
"The other towels match the shower curtain."
"So?" Dean repeated as he sat down on the bed and snatched back the towel Cas was unfolding with such disdain.
"I thought the colors were all supposed to match." Cas sat too, looking contrite.
Now Dean's stomach cramped with the distinct feeling he'd just kicked a puppy for no good reason. "Who told you that stuff has to match?" he asked, attempting a non-threatening tone of voice.
"There were several magazines about home goods and interiors at the doctor's office last week." Cas began to take more things out of the giant sack. "The nurse who gave vaccines was running late, so I had time to read multiple articles. The houses in them were very, hmm, well coordinated."
"Well, yeah, but those houses are staged. Most people don't live like that – especially when it comes to bath towels, for pity's sake. Folks just buy whatever's on sale. Plus, we're hard on clothes and linens 'round here, so we're probably burning through towels more quickly than some would." Dean helped him unfurl a washable rag rug. "And look: this has all the colors in it. Matches everything."
"For the bathroom?"
"For in here, if you want it. These concrete floors are cold as fuck." Off of the return of Cas's confused eyebrows, Dean shook out the rug onto the floor up by his bedside table. "So when you first put your feet on the floor in the mornings, they don't freeze up completely while you're putting on socks or whatever."
"Oh." Cas toed the rug's fringed edge and smiled at him. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," Dean said. Entirely too easy to smile at Cas these days. He kept catching himself doing it.
It kept…not feeling weird.
He looked at the rest of the items he'd bought while Sam had, arguably more responsibly, bought the bulk of the groceries and toilet paper. The clearance aisle had indeed been magnificent; the holidays were coming, and the store was apparently offloading anything that wasn't covered in holly berries or jingle bells. Dean wasn't an after-season kind of shopper under normal circumstances, or even an any time of year shopper most days of the week, but he'd been slightly like a man possessed in front of so many bins of discounted doodads and widgets.
Note to self, he thought: Investigate whether big box stores employ witchcraft to trick customers into buying more crap than they actually need.
Except – maybe he didn't need a five dollar lamp or a mirror with a classy fake copper frame for the low, low price of $9.99 or two dollars and nineteen cents' worth of tea lights that smelled like apple pie, but there was someone in the bunker who might, or who at least might like having them, need or not.
"Hey, so." Dean pushed the things into a pile. "This stuff was not expensive, and you don't have to take any of it if you don't want to, but um. You're welcome to any or all of it. The lamp would work over by the bed or on top of the chest of drawers. We could replace that plain old mirror over the sink with this oval one – it'd be a little nicer to look at, anyway." He walked over to hold the new mirror overtop the one on the wall in demonstration. "Fancy, huh?"
Cas looked almost shy when he asked, "You're not going to use these?"
"Nope. Yours for the taking."
"Well, I'll pay you back as soon as I can." Cas picked up the lamp and admired the turquoise glass of the base.
"Nah, don't worry about it. And we should see about picking you up a few more things. You could make a list. Lots of comforters and knicknacks out there to be had." Dean bounced a little on the balls of his feet.
"I'd like that." Cas glanced between the lamp and the mirror and the rug on the floor. "You did very well matching these for someone who wasn't even trying to."
Dean snorted, but weirdly, Cas was right. "It's probably 'cause I naturally have impeccable taste."
"Or maybe you were lucky." Cas's words had a bite his expression otherwise didn't, and once more Dean was smiling back before he could stop himself. "Thank you again."
"Sure." Dean started taking the tags off of the towels. "What else did you learn from those articles about decorating?"
He realized after about eight seconds that he didn't care that much about the answer; he just wanted to talk to his best friend in his best friend's bedroom in the home they shared.
Maybe tomorrow they could go shopping.
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Join the Chorus
A Macdonald Hall advent fic, posted daily through Dec.25
Boots likes the holidays. Bruno does not. Boots has to stay at the Hall through Christmas. Bruno does not. Boots absolutely is not crushing on his best friend. Bruno...
December 1
“--and it's an outrage!”
Wilbur casually pushed Bruno’s indignant finger down so he could get to the orange juice. “It’s just Christmas decorations, Bruno.”
Bruno banged his clenched fists on the table top. Elmer, Mark, and Chris lifted their plates just in time to avoid the reverberations. “It’s not just Christmas, Wilbur! It’s not Christmas yet! Thanksgiving turkey leftovers are still in the fridge! There were red satin bows before breakfast this morning! Red satin bows! It’s a capitalist’s wet dream!”
Boots ignored Bruno with the ease of long practice. Seven years of enduring howling tirades over every injustice known to man had made him both completely inoculated and partially deaf. “You don't even get up for breakfast. And Thanksgiving is in October, Bruno.”
“The Americans are losing key ground in the battle! They’re letting Christmas win.”
Boots rolled his eyes. “I like Christmas. It looks nice in here.” He tossed a thumb at the holly boughs along the buffet tables, the icicle tinsel glimmering in the windows. The entire hall was in the process of getting its yearly holiday makeover, and Boots had no complaints. This time of year always made him a little homesick, but the Hall looked great.
“It looks like Santa’s elf tried to win an eating contest against Wilbur,” Bruno countered. “Red and green don’t even go together. It’s basic color theory. I slept through that class and I know that! Chris, tell ‘em!”
Chris shoveled another slice of ham into his mouth. “Mmmph mooulm.”
“Look at it. Just look at it.” Bruno pointed in great disgust across the room to the red bows dancing along the walnut wainscoting. “Sickening.”
Boots hid the sigh. Bruno had complained about the Christmas decorations since their very first year. It was something of a Christmas tradition itself.
It shouldn’t have made him smile.
Unfortunately, it did.
He cleared his throat and went back to lunch. At his elbow, Bruno went back to rabble-rousing.
Everything was as it should be.
~*~
“It’s just not natural. Every time I turn around, I trip over some trailing ribbon. Sidney did after math, so he’s in the infirmary. If we start now, we can–” Bruno shut the door and kicked off his shoes. “What’s with the face?”
Boots picked up his textbook from his chest and began reading again. “It’s my face. What about it?”
Melvin dear, this is a once-in-a-lifetime trip, and there were only two tickets in the prize package. Don’t lots of boys stay the holidays at the Hall? Edward seemed happy enough. Anyway, you boys never want to come home in the summer. Spend some extra time with your friends. It’ll be wonderful, and next year we’ll all do something together.
Bruno eyed him. Boots stared harder at the page. They stewed in silence for a moment, Bruno just inside the door and Boots propped up against both his own pillows and the ones he’d stolen from Bruno’s bed.
Bruno broke just as Boots started to sweat. He hucked his sweater over his head–Boots pretended very much not to see the way Bruno’s thin undershirt ride up– and cannonballed onto his bed. “So I was thinking. All this Christmas bunk. It’s already basically put Rampulsky in the hospital. What if we formed a group–”
“--No–”
“--to take it all down and–”
“--Bruno, no–”
Bruno rattled on, Boots caught up in his wake just as always, and even if his parents had won some fancy vacation package and were ditching him and Edward at the Hall for Christmas, at least he had Bruno for another few days.
Boots O’Neil would do a lot for a little more Bruno Walton.
(This fic follows MacDonald Hall shenanigans through the month of December. I'll post daily here, then compile every five days into a chapter on Ao3. Enjoy!)
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player: Kostas Tsimikas
words: 914
request: Kostas Tsimikas - no pref - 500 - 900 - So Kos and her have been dating for a few months now but no one at the club knows. So when, at the club Christmas party, they end up under the mistletoe (I'm sure Robbo decorated every single doorway with it) and he's like "let's give them a show" and kisses her in a way that steals her breath away
A/N: a huge thank you to @percervall for the help with this one. I am blowing kisses at you, I couldn't have done this without you.
This year, things are being done a little differently at the club. Usually, menial tasks were delegated to anyone and everyone in order to get them accomplished and it doesn’t usually matter who does them, as long as they do. The design of the room and organising it was left to someone that the club paid and it was usually done to the incredibly high standard that you would expect. This year, the players have been tasked with something each.
Kos has the honour of placement cards. She watched him agonising over designs at home - wanting to make sure that the people he knew well enough had something that was tailored to them. He’d purchased a Cricut and made them this way, setting them all out across their dining room table to see how they looked laid out. He’d tweaked them, bought fancy pens and added small flourishes.
It wasn’t something that took over, but he certainly took pride in the ones he made and it showed as he gently laid them out on the carefully decorated tables. The room looks amazing, Virgil and Alisson had done an incredible job, though she does suspect their wives may have had a hand in helping. The colour scheme was spot on and certainly provided the perfect photo opportunity that the club would no doubt be taking.
Out of everything available, she expected Andy to be in charge of Secret Santa, or something fun. Upon finding out that he was in charge of flowers and in turn, mistletoe, she had mixed expectations of how it would end up. And yet, the bouquets that adorn the room and complete the tables are stunning. He walks around now, the usual “Robbo” grin upon his face as he interacts with everyone while wearing his flower crown of holly, berries, mistletoe and a few colour scheme flowers in there too. When he turns around, exposing his back to her, she notices a little sprig of mistletoe tucked in his back pocket for unsuspecting victims.
“He’s going to get us, you know.” She comments, holding her wine glass closer to her chest as she huddles close to Kostas who has approached her far too quickly for her liking. He scrambled through the crowd of people who had been filing in now for the past half an hour and the once empty room they’d entered is now bustling with people and music is now being played through the speakers.
“He doesn’t know. He won’t.” But deep down, Kostas knows that Andy knows. He’s seen the looks being thrown his way and he knows it’s a matter of time before they’re outed. It may not be tonight, but this was the start of it. Robbo would watch their reactions and slowly start to make little comments when they’re back in training. And Kostas knows he’ll struggle to hold it all together but Andy thrives on reactions and he’ll keep at it like a dog on a bone.
“You know what he’s like.”
“I do, and he won’t.”
He wants nothing more than to pull her closer to him by the small of her back, his hand snaking to her waist and press his lips to any part of her that she’ll let him - whether that be her hairline, her temple, the space between her eyebrow and eye, her cheek, nose or of course, her lips.
He tried to get as many kisses as he possibly could before they headed out in separate cars, not wanting to arouse any suspicion because despite the few blissful months of dating, it’s come at the cost of it being in secret. Kostas is certain that no-one at the club would have an issue with their relationship but he didn’t want it out there just yet and initially, she’d wholeheartedly agreed. She’d seen too many relationships collapse once it became public and yet, it was becoming harder to keep it a secret. Not because others were catching on but because neither of them wanted to stay away from one another any more.
“Well, looky what we have here.” Andy’s voice sounds behind them and they both groan in unison. “My favourite “non couple but are so a couple” couple.” he grins as Kostas shoots him a look. “Oh come on. If you keep giving me that look I’ll be forced to bring out the gentleman doth protests too much, methinks line.”
“So leave and we won’t have to give you that look,” she comments, giving Andy a little nudge with her elbow and a crooked smile.
“Oh it’s we now is it? You said that so naturally.” her smile falters and she realises too much has been said. She knows Robbo knows and the look that she spots on Kostas’ face confirms this.
“Fuck it,” her beautiful Greek boyfriend hisses, downing the rest of his drink before he moves quickly, swiping the mistletoe from behind Andy’s back and holds it above her head. “One of the team’s biggest gobshites isn’t going to stop so what do you say? Kiss me?”
“Where did you learn the word gobshite?” Robbo asks but his words are drowning out as she steps forward, toe to toe with her secret boyfriend. Her hands move to his waist and to his nape. When her head turns this way, his turns that way and they give a nervous chuckle to one another as they begin to lean in, noses rubbing together before their lips finally meet.
#kostas tsimikas x reader#kostas tsimikas imagine#kostas tsimikas one shot#kostas tsimikas blurb#kostas tsimikas drabble#kostas tsimikas fanfic#kostas tsimikas fanfiction#football imagine#football one shot#footballer imagine#footballer one shot#football blurb#football fanfiction#football fanfic#football drabble
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How Christian is Christmas? NOT MUCH!
CHRISTMAS: A Christian festival, named after Christ’s mass, celebrating the birth of Jesus. Any fool knows that. Slightly more savvy people are aware that Christ wasn’t born in 1 AD and now that Christmas is actually a cleaned-up version of old rituals. But that’s not the half of it. In fact, Christmas is utterly Pagan.
For a start, there is no evidence that Jesus was born at Christmas. Shepherds would not have had their flocks out in the fields in midwinter, even in Palestine. Nor would the Romans have ordered a census in the winter, the most difficult time of the year for travelling.
As for the twelve days of Christmas, that traditionally the time it took for the three wise men to arrive at the stable in Bethlehem. The fact is that the Roman celebrations around the winter solstice (December 21st), starting with the feast of Saturnalia and ending with the Sol Invictus festival also lasted twelve days. All over the world, the solstice is connected with rebirth, so it made sense for the early Christians to tag on their own ersatz birth-celebration to one that was already around.
Or take Santa Claus. “Santa Claus” is “Saint Nicholas” mispronounced, and Saint Nick is the patron saint of children – as well as merchants and pawnbrokers, which seem rather apt. So how did Saint Nick, who lived in Turkey, end up at the North Pole, driving a sleigh full of reindeer?
It’s claimed that part of the story goes back to the Norse god Odin, who also gave cash to the poor, and who used to ride across the sky. And there’s Cernunnos, the Horned God who led the Wild Hunt, chasing souls through the night sky. Or Freya, another Norse deity, who was supposed to spend the twelve days after the winter solstice driving a chariot pulled by stags, giving presents to the good and punishing the naughty. Whichever of the ancient legends you choose one thing’s for sure: Father Christmas is as Pagan as they come!
He first appeared as a fat bearded bloke in a fur coat in a poem written in 1822 by Clement Clark Moore and a picture drawn by Thomas Nast in 1860 – up to then he’d been anything from a skinny elf to a thinly-disguised version of Cernunnos dressed in green. When in 1931 the Coca-Cola company wanted a figure to represent their drink around the world, they commissioned artist Haddon Sunblum to paint a fat, jolly, human Santa in their corporate colors of red and white, and the rest is history (and marketing).
But red and white is also the color of the fly agaric mushroom, a powerful hallucinogen from northern Europe, where it is the favorite food of reindeer. It used to be a big part of pre-Christian shamanic rituals, and was said to have been formed from the specks of blood and spittle that fell from the mouth of Odin’s horse as he galloped on (TA daaaa!) the winter solstice! And Christmas poet Clement Moore was an expert on European folklore. That’s no coincidence. [Is that where the flying reindeer come from? – John]
Christmas was never a celebration of Christ’s birth – there’s nothing in the Bible to say that Christ’s birth should be celebrated at all, and it wasn’t until 375 AD that the Church fixed it’s date. Instead, it was a way of twisting old beliefs to Christianity’s advantage, making more converts for what was then the new faith on the block. Roman historians realized this: in 230 AD Tertullian wondered why the Christians were so willing to dilute their beliefs with Pagan “superstitions”.
MISTLETOE: Has no Christian significance. It’s an ancient Druid fertility symbol, and people used to do a lot more than kiss under it.
HOLLY: Supposedly something to do with Christ’s crown of thorns. But in fact a lot more to do with the god Saturn and the old Pagan Holly King.
CHRISTMAS TREES: Evergreen trees were a potent symbol of life in the dark winter days. Decorating them was a way of making offerings top the tree’s spirit.
PRESENTS: From the Roman feast of Saturnalia, integrated into Christmas in 375 AD when the church first set Christ’s birthday as December 25th.
YULE LOGS: A Scandinavian tradition, where an oak log was kept burning for 12 days, and a piece of it saved to light the next year’s log. “Yule” is named after Ullr, the Norse god of winter.
BOOZE: The old Greeks celebrated the death and rebirth of Dionysus, the god of wine and wild revelry, for 12 days at the winter solstice. Dionysus’s parents were Zeus and Hera. When the Titans killed him, he was brought back to life and ascended Mount Olympus.
Remind you of anyone?
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It’s December 2nd! For anyone who’s read my fics or seen my profile, you’ll probably know that instead of an advent calendar, this year I’m writing a fic every day this December, each one focusing on a specific Christmas in the life of Charles Lee Ray. Some will be happy, some will be sad, but all of them should be a lot of fun. Yesterday was baby Chucky, so today must be… toddler Chucky! Enjoy it, it’s one of the only remaining light hearted ones.
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Charlie padded down the stairs in his footie pyjamas. It was the early hours of Christmas morning, and for a three year old boy, this was the most dangerous and exciting adventure that he’d ever have.
It was a really hard mission. But he had a plan, and he was gonna succeed. He was going to be the first kid in the world to catch Santa. When he had the Holly Jolly old man, he was gonna get so many toys out of him that no other kid would have anything left to ask for. He might give some of the toys to the kids at his playgroup, if he was feeling nice.
It was hard to be extra quiet, making no sound as he walked. Mama had called this ‘tiptoeing’. When he’d asked her for help in catching Santa, she had told him that only bad boys did that. But she’d told Charlie that he was on the nice list, so that must be a mistake.
He was at the bottom of the stairs now and was about to turn into the living room, where his stocking and the tree were. There was no better place to capture a re- a rec-a reclusive animal (he always struggled with that word) than in it’s natu-natura-natural (that word too) habitat. He’d laid out the most delicious cookies that he’d baked with Mama a couple days ago (he got to lick the bowl!) and the biggest glass of milk he could find (he’d spilled it twice on the way to setting it down on the table).
These delicious treats weren’t to reward the Holly Jolly fellow, oh no, they were to trap him. When he came down the chimney he’d get him. He’d brought his Little League baseball bat and had been practicing his swing for months now. Daddy was knocked over the last time he practiced.
But, the cookies looked so yummy. They had triple chocolate chips and that was his favourite flavour. Surely one little bite, and a couple sips of milk, wouldn’t hurt? Santa wouldn’t even notice…
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He woke up in his bed that morning, milk still around his mouth. There was a note taped to his stocking.
He asked Mama to read it when he managed to coax her out of bed to open the stockings. It read:
“Little boys who stay up late don’t get to see Santa.”
His bottom lip wobbled, but he didn’t cry. But then he opened his stocking. At the very top, mixed in with the small wrapped presents, was a lump of coal.
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Jolly Old Saint Bernard (x Reader) (Chapter 2)
Summary - Bernard’s voice was ice. “And we’re quite aware of the climate change issue, thanks. We’re working on it.”
“You’re working on it? Okay, great, nothing to worry about then since Saint Bernard and his 200 year old research team is working on the whole ‘climate change issue’. And when can we expect a solution, chief?”
Pairing - Bernard x gn!Reader
Word Count - 5004
Looking for Chapter 1? Check the Holly Jolly Masterpost pinned to my blog.
Chapter 2 - Chestnuts Roasting
(December 26th, afternoon)
The human had been set up for about a week now, apparently. The week leading up to Christmas, it was horrible timing. Usually humans wouldn’t be able to get this close without some strategic deterrents sent their way to make them want to turn back themselves. Faced with a dangerous storm, a hungry polar bear, or a sudden crack in the sea ice, a human is much more likely to give up and leave. If they think exploring the arctic wasn’t worth it on their own then that tends to be more effective than if someone tries to convince them there’s nothing to see here, curious stubborn creatures that they are.
Bernard typed out a message to the Elfcon team on his watch asking about this obvious oversight. How had this human slipped through?
According to the team, their arrival was noted as they first made camp about 20 miles away and a snowstorm was sent to make conditions uncomfortable enough that they’d leave on their own. The report was sent to his office and he’d signed off on it himself. He could vaguely remember something about that, but he had been busy directing the Core teams on the final stretch to Christmas. An elf scout had been sent out to check on them during the storm; they didn’t want to accidentally freeze the human to death after all. But while the tent and supplies were still there, they and their snowmobile were nowhere to be found. With Christmas on the horizon and no reliable way to confirm their departure with radar once the storm started, the elves assumed they had left. Not so, apparently.
They were approximately two miles east of Bernard and the reindeer and over a small ridge of icy cliffs, less than 10 miles away from the entrance to Santa’s Village. The thought of a human stumbling onto their little secret was enough to make Bernard break out into a sweat. His head throbbed as he looked at the 8 uncertain reindeer out in the open. They weren’t quite as far out from the Village as they’d normally want to go, but the cliffs blocked the human from seeing them here. He hopped off Dancer and told them all that this year they’d have to keep it confined to the small stretch from here to the Village and a southern flat patch that was around 8 miles total. Not nearly as good as they deserved, but this was a delicate situation here. He placed a small tracker on Dancer’s antler and told her to keep close to the other deer so he could find them all if they needed a quick getaway. She nuzzled his face in response and he gave her a pat before heading out on his own towards the cliffs. If this human wouldn’t leave by conventional means, then he’d have to get confrontational about it. An elf’s gotta do what an elf’s gotta do, afterall.
You were freezing your ass off here. Your pop up tent wasn’t as warm as your main tent at home camp, but luckily you’d found a little divot in the ice cliff you’d stumbled upon in the storm. It was enough to cut the wind at least and offer enough shelter to help your thin little travel tent keep your body heat trapped. You were glad you had the thought to bring your backpack when you had seen the storm coming and took off on your snowmobile to find XJ-17’s trail. There were plenty of warm layers, rations, fire starters, and flares. You weren't worried about freezing to death, but it certainly was an inconvenience. You had a nice cozy set up at your home camp, which was… somewhere. That was kind of your current problem. When you saw the storm starting, you were worried it would cover the polar bear tracks you’d found your first day on site. You didn’t even get to properly determine which direction the bear was traveling before snow started falling. You thought maybe if you just rushed out to the last place you saw prints, you could get an idea of where to start when the storm blew over. Alas, the way to hell is paved, yadda yadda.
You got lost almost immediately.
None of your radar equipment worked in the storm and surprise, surprise: the one thing you did not have in your backpack? A compass. So onward you’d traveled, practically blind in the storm, looking for something, anything you could use to find your way. When you hit the cliffs you knew you’d definitely not gone the right way and decided to hunker down and wait out the weather. It had been a solid week, if your watch was working correctly, before the storm had finally broken.
Sitting around in a tent shivering doesn’t seem too strenuous, but you were still exhausted. You couldn’t wait to start heading back to your comfortable little set up.
Looking out at the frozen land, you could see that the cliffs ran a good way into the distance. Across the flat ice, you saw a break in the cliffs that you recognized. Directly east from that break was your home camp. And between you and the camp was the towering jagged ice mountain you’d admired your first day in the arctic. You must have gone around it in your blind panic to find the tracks. But at least you knew how to get back! Step one, down. Those stodgy old professors who said you wouldn’t make it out here on your own could suck it. You were absolutely killing it right now.
You turned back towards your humble little temp camp and had to do a double take as you saw a dark figure standing on top of the cliffs above your camp. You choked on a scream as you saw the figure jump from one ledge of the cliffs down to another. That was at least a 15 foot drop! Your breathing sped up as the figure smoothly hopped down two more cliffs with no problems, bringing them just one 30 foot drop away from you and your tent.
You could see them more clearly now. It was definitely a person, they looked small and wore a cloak and hood so it was impossible to make out their features except for two dark eyes peeking over the edge of a crimson scarf. Despite their acrobatics, they didn’t look particularly threatening. Still, a weapon could go a long way and there was nobody to call for help out here. You made the decision to keep your cool here in the hopes it would at least give you a better idea of the person’s intentions.
“Hi there! That’s some fancy jumping.”
The figure kept their gaze locked on you in silence for a long moment before they suddenly jumped the remaining 30 feet, tucking into a roll before popping up onto their feet again in a practiced fluid motion.
You took several steps back at that, keeping a good distance between you and the stranger should they try to attack. Your body was tense, but you purposely kept your voice light as you exclaimed, “Wow! Very impressive!”
The both of you stood in silence, locked in an uneasy staring contest. You took the opportunity to get a better look at the newcomer. Their green cloak looked thick and warm, fur lining the hood and bottom which brushed at the stranger’s knees. Golden tassels attached to the cloak hung down from under a red scarf with golden accents. Long leather boots that also looked fur lined covered what wasn’t hidden by the cloak. Their face was partially covered by the scarf and hood, but you could clearly see those sparkling dark eyes, unflinching in their intensity.
“Didn’t think I’d meet a LARPer all the way up here in the arctic circle.”
“What?” The stranger’s voice was deep and gruff, but with a pleasant tenor that caressed your ears over the ambient sounds of the wind rushing over the snow drifts. It sent a pleasant tingle up your spine.
What a strangely musical voice.
“Your clothes? You look like an extra out of Lord of the Rings. Or, considering where we are, maybe one of Santa’s little helpers,” you chuckled.
The stranger lifted their arms revealing a leather gloved hand from underneath their cloak and tugged self consciously at their hood. You caught a glimpse of a golden inscription stitched down the side of the green cloak, but you didn’t recognize any of the characters.
You introduced yourself and looked expectantly at the stiff figure standing between you and your camp.
“I’m Bernard. Nice to meet you and all, but you need to leave.”
“Oh yeah? And why’s that, Bernard?” you said slightly insulted by his brusque tone.
“You aren’t supposed to be here.”
“I am, actually. I’m with the Hale Company. I’ve been assigned to track a missing polar bear and her new cub for the research division.”
“Your presence will upset the polar bears, you should leave before they eat you.”
Okay, this guy was starting to piss you off.
“Listen, buddy—“
“Bernard.”
“—Saint Bernard, more like. If you’re so worried about the bears, then fine,” you growled, marching past him to reach your supplies. After some rustling around in your backpack, you pulled out a folder of laminated pages and handed him the top piece with a smug look. “See? I’m official. The Hale Company has been tracking these bears for over 20 years, so I’m pretty sure what I’m doing is perfectly fine.”
Bernard scanned the document before him, an annoyed edge crinkling the space between his brows. In a barely audible grumble he said, “Twenty years? That’s nothing. We’ve been keeping track for over 200.”
“Wait, what? Are you with a research team too?”
He started at your words, his eyes widening briefly before returning to a neutral glare. “The Hale Company. Yeah, I’m familiar with it.” His words were rushed. “Fine, but you aren’t supposed to be this far out.”
“We follow the bears, Saint Bernard. Our bear, XJ-17, has taken her cub to the mountains just northwest of here, we think.”
“You must mean Catherine, she’s the only one with a cub right now. She’s a sweet bear.”
“If that’s what your team is calling her, then sure.”
A sweet polar bear? You doubted that.
He ducked his head, seeming conflicted for a moment, before straightening up with squared shoulders. “You’re gonna freeze out here, y’know. Your little campsite here is pathetic.”
You bristled at his tone. “Excuse me? I’ve trained for years for this assignment. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. And this isn’t my main camp, it’s a temp. I got caught out in the storm. I’ll be returning to my home camp just as soon as I can.”
You turned and pointed at the distant break in the ice ridge. “See that opening? If I head that way, my camp is a straight shot east from there.”
Once again, a worried look shadowed his eyes.
“You can’t go that way.”
“I have to! I’m not gonna climb the mountain, that’s crazy. I’ll just ride around it. In fact, I should probably get going soon. The storm may have broken for now, but who knows when another will hit.”
“No!” He eyed your snowmobile and the dying embers of your fire, his brows pulled tight. “Uh, I mean, shouldn’t you rest a bit first? You seem tired.”
You had planned to rest some before returning actually, but you were eager to escape the rude pushy man who had appeared from seemingly nowhere.
“Where did you come from anyways? How did you get up on those cliffs?”
“Got anything to eat?”
You were briefly thrown by his sudden inquiry. “Um, yeah, I have some rations. Why? You want something?” You felt a sinking feeling of guilt as you put the pieces together. This guy was slim and short, that much was obvious even with the thick cloak. And his voice sounded pretty young. He probably had gotten turned around in the storm himself and was far from whatever research camp he came from. He couldn’t be younger than 18, there’s no way any team would bring a kid up here with them, even for practical education. But maybe he was an advanced uni student? There were certainly other research teams who had less than ethical requirements. It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility, you supposed. So odds were that he was pretty young. He was putting on a brave face, but the stress he was under was apparent. Poor guy was probably hungry and cold and scared.
Your remaining anger melted away in an instant and you suddenly felt responsible for this young stranger. “Hey, listen. I’m sorry, okay? How about we get you something to eat and then we can find out where you came from.”
“Uh, yeah. Yeah, that would be great. Food, I mean. Thanks.”
“Of course! Have a seat. I’m out of firewood, I’m afraid, so we’ll need to eat quick and be on our way.”
“Oh, that’s not a problem. I have wood.”
“Wha—you do? Where?”
He shuffled a bit under his cloak and revealed a brown leather bag slung low at his right hip. It wasn’t very big and you started to protest. You’d need wood bigger than whatever he had in there. But your words died on your lips as he pulled several good sized cut logs from inside the bag. You blinked, and his cloak was back in place, covering the bag once again.
…You must have misjudged how big that bag was. You couldn’t believe he’d been hauling around all that wood. His shoulders were probably killing him right now.
The two of you settled down around your new fire pit, the fire now cackling steadily as if laughing at your disgruntled appreciation. Of course he’s an expert at making cozy fires. This kid was unnaturally good at everything, it seemed. Typical young genius. You had to work your ass off the past 8 years in university to get here, and you still had some trouble making a fire by hand. But he got one going in less than a minute.
You watched as he poked the base of the flames, the flickering light reflected in his dark eyes. His eyes were quite distinct, now that you could look without him pinning you in his intimidating glare. Big and brown, deep set but with a sharp edge that kept you on your toes and made you feel uncomfortably seen. His lashes were thick and stark against the tops of his cheeks as he concentrated on his task. As you watched, a small snowflake stuck itself to the edge of his lashes.
“So do you know where ‘Catherine’s’ trail picks up? You seem to know an awful lot about polar bears,” you blurted out to distract yourself from that little snowflake and the added sparkle it gave his eyes.
“As a matter of fact, I do. Not that it’s any business of yours. She’s got a cub to care for now, she doesn’t need some amateur researcher barging in on her privacy.”
You made note that he, once again, talks about the bear like she’s a sentient person. And talks about you like you’re five years old. So maybe he wasn’t a teenager then. But he can’t be much older than, what, mid twenties at the oldest? Definitely not older. He’s short, and the few features you can see while he’s bundled up look incredibly youthful, but the way he carries himself is more deliberate, not at all marked with the usual teen awkwardness.
He was setting up some sort of bracket. Or maybe a rack? His hands were steady as he used a metal tool to dig a narrow hole through the ice and placed polished wooden sticks in them. That bag of his had all sorts of things stored, apparently. He fastened the poles with a complicated looking tie and knot and moved to adjust the whole thing so it was above the fire.
“That’s why I need to find her! Her cub needs to be registered with our research division. We don’t know how old it is or if it’s healthy. We haven’t even been able to confirm if it’s a male or female.”
“She’s a girl. Her name is Crystal.”
“Okay…Your team sure has some weird naming conventions. But look, I can’t just—”
You abruptly cut yourself off when you noticed Bernard was removing layers and hanging them over the rack he’d built over the fire. He’d removed his heavy cloak and hood and placed it at the right end of the rack, carefully arranging it so that it wasn’t drooping too far into the flames. Next he unwound his scarf and hung it beside the cloak. For the first time, you were able to get a good look at the tenacious man who had harassed you doggedly the past 2 hours.
Underneath his hood he wore a green beret, decorated with a small medal and ribbon that seemed like real gold, at least it looked that way in the fire light. He pulled it lower on his head and fiddled with its arrangement for a minute, trying to get it to cover his ears. Which you supposed made sense. If he didn’t have any muffs on him then it would be a bit cold to have exposed ears, even by the fireside. His hair, a shaggy cut of bouncy dark curls, was constantly in motion as he expertly pulled at the fingers of his leather gloves, his intention obviously to place those on the rack next. His figure was clearer now, and your confusion grew as you took in his slim body shape. He wore a tunic with intricately decorated stripes of gold and silver threaded down his torso and cut off partway down by an ostentatious leather belt. Around his neck hung a wide gold necklace with what appeared to be bells dangling down from it. The whole thing looked almost like a costume but the obvious care put into the craftsmanship of it spoke to it being a genuine outfit. What an odd ensemble for an arctic trek. Despite his strange attire, he was proportional like a man, no gangly limbs here.
But his face was so youthful. Or was it?
His jaw was cut and square, his nose long and proud, but something about his face as a whole didn’t look quite right. His cheeks were so smooth, like he’d never needed to shave a day in his life. They were rosy and plump and you swore as the fire flickered across his face, you saw stars light up on the tops of his cheeks. Strange, but not off putting. There was something unusual about how all of his features came together though. Something otherworldly and ethereal. You brushed it off and decided he was just handsome in a unique way, which he definitely was. The warm fire and beautiful snow must just be tricking your imagination into making things seem more mystical than they actually were.
You took all this in as he placed his gloves on the rack and pushed them over to make more room. In a brief panic, you wondered what else he could possibly be planning to remove next when those sharp eyes flickered up to yours, the silence stretching a touch too long. You realized then that he was leaving room for your clothes to also hang and scrambled to remove your own coat as you continued your argument.
“—I—I can’t just take your word for it. I don’t know who you are or what team you’re with, but if you won’t identify yourself then whatever you claim about XJ—sorry, Catherine—can’t be properly recorded.”
“What does it even matter, I mean, why do you care so much if Crystal is recorded? It’s not necessary, she doesn't need to be in your records.”
“She does, actually. In case you haven’t noticed, the sea ice is melting at an alarming rate. We need to keep track of every polar bear we can, especially now that their natural habitat is disappearing. Any researcher worth their salt knows that, Saint Bernard.” You bit out the last sentence with some frustration. “What research team did you say you were with again? Russian?”
“I didn’t.” His voice was ice. “And we’re quite aware of the climate change issue, thanks. We’re working on it.”
“You’re working on it? Okay, great, nothing to worry about then since Saint Bernard and his 200 year old research team is working on the whole ‘climate change issue’. And when can we expect a solution, chief?”
“Look, I don’t mean to minimize your work. I’m sure what you’re doing is very helpful—“
“It is, actually. These bears deserve life. Every life on this planet is precious, Bernard, even one’s out here in the remotest place on earth. I don’t know what your teams’ goal is here, but ours—mine—is to preserve habitats for the best life possible for wild animals. Polar bears are struggling and we need to help them. We can’t do that if we don’t know where they are.”
He seemed at a loss for words for a moment, staring you down with an unreadable expression. His cheeks twinkled as one side of his mouth quirked into the first smile you’d seen from him so far. Your stomach flipped at the sight of it, but your stern determined face remained steadfast. You believed in this with all your heart, and you weren't about to give up on your life’s mission just because some handsome stranger from a rival team wanted to scare you off.
“Fine.”
You broke out of your impassioned thoughts at his even tone.
“Huh?”
“I said ‘fine’. I get it. You want to record Crystal, then okay. The polar bears are traveling further and further outside their normal territory, I should have seen this coming, really. But the area they’re in now falls under our jurisdiction. The Morozko Company has precedent here, that’s our registered name by the way, since you keep asking, Morozko.”
He spoke with sure authority and you realized you must have seriously misjudged him to think he was a junior researcher. He definitely seemed like he was in some position of power. You’d been warned about the mysterious Morozko Company. No one knew what nation they were affiliated with or where they got their funding. They were a strictly by the book company and had been heading the field on arctic research for the better part of a century. Very prestigious and very exclusive. You suddenly felt a bit out of your depth here dealing with someone who was probably leagues ahead of you in knowledge and experience.
“Oh, uh, sorry I didn’t know you were Morozko,” you muttered. You decided to take the opportunity to pry a bit about the legendary team that put fear into the hearts of any unethical arctic explorers. “So are you guys Russian based?”
“Sure. Now listen, I’ll let you track Catherine for as long as you need, but you have to keep to the areas I tell you, okay? The ecosystem here is more delicate than you know.”
Your breath escaped you in a sudden rush. “Oh, wow, thank you! You have no idea how much this means to me. And yes, of course, I’ll keep to the approved areas. I’m not a complete amateur—I’m very aware of how fragile things are up here. I’ll gladly follow your lead.”
“Great, I’m glad we understand each other.”
The two of you chatted here and there as you retrieved and prepared a couple of field rations. Bernard’s face was conspicuously blank as you ate together and you wondered what sort of researcher that had the authority to allow you into another team’s territory wouldn’t be long used to eating the dry tasteless field rations that came standard on this sort of expedition. Morozko probably had special high-end rations or something.
He certainly was an odd little fellow. But after breaking the ice earlier, so to speak, he actually made quite good company. He was quick witted and funny and certainly knew his stuff. He gave a quick run down of the trails for quite a few bears that had gone off your radar months back, including Catherine, drawing everything out on your map for you to reference later. He marked places where you could potentially set up cameras to keep track of the bears and also marked quite a few places off limits, saying the bears didn’t come close to those areas anyways and that his team was in the middle of conducting some very temperamental observation research there. You promised not to interfere, after all, you were here for the bears. Nothing more.
He insisted the two of you get a few hours of sleep before heading out to your respective tents. You just yawned in reply, too tired to argue.
The already light snow stopped falling altogether as you settled into sleeping bags around the fire. Your tent was too small for you both and you were still a bit wary of leaving your supplies out here with a stranger. Luckily you had an extra sleeping bag for him in your snowmobile and the temperature wasn’t too frigid for sleeping with no shelter.
“So Bernard, got a last name?”
“It’s Evergreen. Bernard Evergreen.”
“You really take this LARPing thing seriously, don’t you? No, I mean for real.”
“It is for real. That’s actually my name.”
You blinked at him in mild surprise.
“Wow, that’s cool then! Sounds kind of like an elf name.”
“Uh, yeah. So what about you?”
“Oh! Right.” You told him your name, hands fiddling a bit into your sleeping bag as you said it.
“That’s a great name!” He nodded with a slight smirk. “I approve.”
You rolled your eyes a bit, a smile tugging at your lips at his light teasing. “Yeah, it’s alright, I guess. It’s just a name.”
He chuckled at your exaggerated expression.
“Names are important. I’ll be sure to remember yours.”
Well that sounded ominous.
“That sounds ominous, you aren’t secretly a fae are you?” you said with a comically dramatic squint of your eyes. “You are dressed kind of strange, y’know. Maybe you really are one of Santa’s elves come to keep me from discovering his workshop!” you laughed at Bernard’s deadpan expression.
“Funny. Is that a dig at my height?”
“Well, now that you mention it—“
“Shut it, you.”
You burst into laughter at his dry remark, and he very quickly joined in. His own laugh was as musical as his speaking voice—like ringing bells—and you felt like you could almost make out a melody in the lovely sounds that came from the man across the fire. It gave you a warm happy feeling that prolonged the fit of laughter both of you had descended into for several minutes, one of you cracking up again and pulling the other back into mirth a few more times before you settled into a comfortable silence.
Your eyes started to droop as you snuggled deeper into your sleeping bag. It had been a very long day. A long week, in fact. You couldn’t wait to get back to your home camp and relax a bit. You could hear the hot water bottle in the bottom of your trunk calling your name.
“Sleep well, Bernard.”
You couldn’t see him clearly anymore hunkered down as you were, but his quiet voice had a comforting tone to it as he answered back.
“You too.”
Bernard watched the human’s chest slow to a steady rhythm, waiting for them to fall into a deeper sleep. They were… tolerable. Good company, he had to admit. It was nice to speak to someone who wasn’t intimidated by his position. Curtis didn’t often treat him as an authority figure, but he didn’t treat him much like a friend either. More like an older brother he begrudgingly had to admit was in charge while mom and dad were away. And Judy was sweet and professional, she and Bernard had known each other for the better part of millennia. But they just didn’t have the same kind of humor and didn’t often talk about things outside of work. In a lot of ways he appreciated them both for the interaction he got with them. They were the only elves even close to his station of importance. They understood the pressure. But this human was sweet and smart and volleyed his comments right back at him with their own spin. They were interesting. He found himself regretting having to leave so soon. He wouldn’t have minded another couple hours of chatting. But humans need their rest, and the reindeer needed to be brought back to the village before the human started their trek back to camp. If they had left for the break in the cliffs right then, they could have gotten an eyeful of flying reindeer. This whole situation was too close a call for his comfort.
He pulled himself from the sleeping bag he’d generously been provided and quickly dressed himself back into his warmer outside cloak and scarf. He grabbed a pen from a supply bag and wrote a quick note explaining his absence for when the human woke up and started tugging his gloves back onto his hands. He watched their peaceful face as he did, and found himself admiring the shine of starlight on their hair. It looked quite nice and pleasant to touch if he had felt so inclined. Which of course, he didn’t. That would be creepy.
Their lips were pouted in sleep. ‘Cute.’ He thought to himself.
They were a nice human, all things considered. Respectful and willing to play by the rules. He could work with that.
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‧₊˚.𖧧. WINTER ACTIVITIES!
including! — diluc, xiao, kaeya, itto, & zhongli <3
genre/warnings! — fluff, elements of christmas, reader is implied to be shorter than itto, different headcanon style (?) just trying it out, diluc favoritism……..
༉‧₊˚. SYNOPSIS! — acting out several winter activities with some genshin characters!
:: DILUC! ♥︎
. . . parties are not usually his forte, though with promise of you attending, diluc had been begrudgingly persuaded. like a fish on a terribly romantic line, he was hooked as soon as he’d seen you. the overly festive decorations embellishing the favonius halls didn’t necessarily bother him, though when he attempts to make his way through a crowd and is suddenly cornered, with you, under none other than a mistletoe? he’s conflicted on which christmas entity he should embody.
you’re about to greet him before seeing him gazing upward like a deer in headlights. green leaves bundle together under the constraint of a velvet red ribbon, festively colored glitter accentuating the holiday staple. the slow harmonies of the jolly music facilitating your moment sounds all the more romantic now that you’re here with him. you breathe in and he breathes out, the soft, happy grin forming on your face granting him a sporadic confidence boost. a warm, rough hand rests upon your cheek with the most atypical care you’ve ever been privy to, and your lips collide in your gentle holiday kiss.
:: XIAO! ♥︎
. . . snowflakes fall ever so gently from the clouded sky, and xiao is nothing short of amazed. he’s seen snow before, of course, but he’s never seen you with it. how excited it makes you, eyes wide and arms reaching upwards. you’re not necessarily aiming to catch anything, just crooning giddily at how the snow lands, melting on your skin upon impact. you are the sun’s greatest enemy, the brightest light he’s ever been deemed.
you smile and he wants to; he wants to revel in your enthusiasm, spin in circles and parade as though it's a miracle when it’s only snow, savor his own laugh and fall in love with the earth. he remembers something he’s seen humans do before, stick their tongues out and stand like adorable fools waiting for snow to fall. should he take his chances on feeling this joy as you do? making sure you aren’t staring, he hesitantly pokes his tongue out, giving him the cutest pout you’ve possibly ever seen. just don’t make it obvious that you are, in fact, staring.
:: KAEYA! ♥︎
. . . “those look…interesting,” you playfully chide at the appearance of his carefully frosted cookies. at least he says carefully, though you can’t exactly tell if he’s truly got no art for decorating baked goods or otherwise. kaeya looks at you challengingly, his eyepatch discarded and second eye fully on display as you’re in the sanctity of your home. he shrugs, going on about how his designs are simply too abstract for your comprehension.
you giggle, turning away with a teasing shake of your head. a slight shuffle sounds from your side, and when you look back in his direction, a messy dollop of peppermint-flavored frosting adorns your unsuspecting nose. your eyes narrow in faux disapproval, and just when he’s about to begin a terrible anecdote about his decorating skills once more, you snatch the piping bag and return the action. a miscalculation was made, and much more frosting than he’d squeezed onto you adorns the tip of his nose. you mutter an unapologetic oops, scooping the sweet treat with your thumb and licking it off. rolling his eyes with nothing but love, he holds back his laughter and does the same.
:: ITTO! ♥︎
. . . flashes of red, blue, and yellow bounce in several controlled patterns along the branches of your christmas tree. multicolored garland as well as various other ornaments hang within its grooves, and you two marvel at your hard work. itto smiles, big and triumphant, just as his entire presence is. you step back, leaning your head onto his chest as he embraces you from behind. you’re about to pack everything up when he remembers one thing you’ve forgotten, the star! you’ve already returned your step stool, and this tree is taller than all your previous ones, leaving you frustrated.
without a second thought, itto hoists you up by your thighs and places you atop his broad shoulders, gifting you a height much taller than everything in your current view. it doesn’t strain him at all, and he urges you with a pat to your thighs and a light jump (which disorients you because you’re so high up, but forgive him, he’s excited) to place the star so you can see how nice it all appears when it’s completed. reaching forward, you slide the star onto the highest branch and press the button which lights it up. he steps backward, and his giddy laugh vibrates throughout his whole body, contagiously catching onto you as well.
:: ZHONGLI! ♥︎
. . . every city street is decked out with holiday lights, and you’ve dragged zhongli out to see them with you in person. he’d dislike the use of the word dragged, however. he’s always a willing subject to whatever your antics may be. it’s a small feat but there’s something so whimsical about blinking lights when they actually have significance — you just can’t help but be awed. as for him, the astonishment blessing your expression is lovely, so he’ll never complain if the lights will continue to frame you like the portrait you are.
in your excitement, you fumble your phone from your jacket’s pocket, quickly aiming it up at the sky and snapping a selection of blurry and beautiful photos of the lights above. you glue yourself to his side, flipping the camera and also taking a candid shot of the two of you, together. the rose red enveloping his nose from the cold makes him grin as he catches his own lost expression in your picture. “take another,” he urges, and you nod with exuberance filling your form even more. centering your shot, you’re about to take it when he presses his cold lips to your cheek, smiling into it as he knows that as well as the lights you’re in love with were both caught in your photo.
thank you soso much for reading !!! ily & stay safe <3
#THE CHRISTMAS ENTITY JOKE IN DILUC’S#CAN I EXPLAIN IT CAUSE I FELT LIKE A GENIUS#LIKE YKNOW THE GRINCH??? AND LIKE SANTA HKMSELF OBVIOUDLY#SO IF HE WERE TO EMBODY THE GRINCH IT’D BE LIKE GRR CHRISTMAS CAUSE HES NERVOUS ABOUT KISSING YOU#BUT IF IT WERE SANTA HE’D BE ALL HOLLY#AND FUCKING JOLLY BECAUSE AHHHH HE GETS TO KISS YOU#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact imagines#genshin headcanons#genshin fluff#diluc x reader#diluc fluff#diluc headcanons#kaeya x reader#kaeya fluff#kaeya headcanons#xiao x reader#xiao fluff#xiao headcanons#itto x reader#itto fluff#arataki itto x reader#itto headcanons#zhongli x reader#zhongli fluff#zhongli headcanons
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Summary: The towns annual Christmas tree lighting shines a light on an unexpected stranger.
Pairing: Syverson x reader
Word Count: 930
Warnings: Fluff!
A/N: For the lovely @winter2112rose 12 + 1 Christmas Stories writing challenge! Day 1 prompt: Christmas Tree/Decorations. Sorry it took so long to post this!! Kept hitting snags. It’s 9 pm here so it’s still technically day one lol!
Disclaimer: FEEL FREE TO REBLOG IF YOU LIKE THE STORY! Writers live off reblogs! Do not copy any portion of my material to claim as your own. Do not repost my work, or any portions of my work on any site and claim it as your own.
***
It was always a bit warm in our small town in Texas for the holidays; Christmas time was no different. It would cool down at dusk, but never enough to snow. Truthfully, in the four years I’ve lived here I have yet to see it snow.
This year for the town's annual tree lighting our Mayor, otherwise known as the entire town's adopted grandfather Roy, had the idea to blast fake snow over the tree. To really give it that Hallmark moviesque Christmas aesthetic. It actually turned out to be a pretty good idea despite some negative Nancys on the town council.
In the middle of our square, kids of ages were laughing and playing together in the chunky white snowfall. I walked toward the table setup for hot chocolate, coffee and cookies. I overheard Roy talking to his wife Shirley.
“The snow sure was a great idea, Pop.” She was so proud of her husband, proud of us all really. That’s what most people would say.
“Oh, yes! Really outdid myself with this one!”
Shirley looked as if an elf had decorated her along with the tree. Blinking ornaments around her neck, and jingle bells on her wrists. Santa hats decorated her ears, with light up antlers that would make Rudolf green with envy. Roy had gotten away with donning his usual cowboy hat. Although I’m sure the holly sprigs in the band were her idea.
I watched them before pouring myself a cup of coffee. Four years ago I moved here with nothing but a car full of clothes, and bad memories. These two took the time to get to know me, help me get a job and a better home. They were family now. They had four kids, seven grandkids and 2 great grands.
After all the time they’d known each other, they were still head over heels for each other. I went back to my coffee when Roy stepped away to help move some tables around.
“Gram, you look enchanting!” I heard a deep voice I didn’t recognize, “Dickens would be proud! Hey! Pops! Settle down now, before you hurt yourself there.” Looking up after hearing Shirley’s laugh, I see a man helping Roy down from the back of a neighbor's truck, only getting a glimpse of his features before he turned around.
Roy patted his arm and brought him in for a bear hug as soon he’d gotten to the ground. A few guys from town, probably friends of the stranger, walked up as Roy explained that he needed to get to the tree to make his announcements before the lighting.
I’d never seen this man before. He’s tall, rugged, broad as a river and of course now he has his back to me. Ball cap over his head, the thin flannel shirt that was pleading with his shoulders, tucked into his jeans. His jeans, wow.
Before I’d realized how distracted I was, the coffee I was pouring had no place else to go.
“Shit!” Spilling some onto my fingers I managed to sit the cup down instead of dropping it. Grabbing a towel Shirley put the pot back on the warmer for me.
“Oh sweetheart! Are you alright?”
“Yeah, I’m ok.” My eyes flicked around to see who saw me, and see if he’d seen. “A little embarrassed now.” I mutter.
“Darlin’ no! No need for that now!” Shirley was undoubtedly the kindest woman I’d ever met.
“May I?” A deep, smooth southern timber broke my thoughts. I looked to my right, there he was. My breath caught. Behind him the lights of the tree flickered to life casting a brilliant light over everything. The town began to cheer and I was lost. Lost in this handsome stranger's eyes.
He was every bit as large as I thought he’d be. Full, dark beard, blue eyes and the perfect nose. Can a nose be perfect? I’d never wondered that before. the lights shone behind him, giving him almost an ethereal glow.
Did I nod? I must have nodded because he was moving the towel away from my hand, inspecting my fingers closely. I didn’t want to look away. I almost couldn’t tear my eyes away from his perfect features. He sucked in his bottom lip as he touched my palm.
“That hurt?” I shook my head slightly before he looked up at me. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and I may have fainted had it not been for him holding my hand. “Hey Gram, would you hand me a bottle of water that's not cold.”
He never looked away from me. Not once. “Names Sy, by the way. I’m gonna take real good care of you, I promise.”
Sy. Wait, Sy was, “ You’re their grandson in the Army?”
“I am.” He took the water from Shirley’s hand. “This might sting a bit, but it’ll feel better soon.”
Waiting a few minutes after pouring the water over my hand he asked if I was alright.
“I think I’m ok.” My fingers were red but nothing was badly hurt.
Sy stayed by my side the rest of the evening. Turns out that was his first day back home after two extended tours. No matter who came up to greet him, he sat right by me the whole time, occasionally checking on my hand.
I tried to tell him he could leave, that I was fine. He responded with a smile, “If it's alright with you I’d like to stay. I kinda like it here.”
I blushed. Of course it was.
***
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