#festive fred is yeah

[twisty-little-passages]

the Fred express

[agreeeeeeeeeee]

A Christmas Gift | G.W.

“That's what happens when you love someone,” George replied, smiling. “You want to protect them from anything that might hurt them, even if you know you can't.”

feat. George Weasley x fem!reader

SUMMARY: You go to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes to pick out a Christmas gift for your ailing little brother, who adored the shop (and the twins) before he became too ill to go. You find a gift and so much more than you ever dreamed of.

CW: this is really emotional, i’m sorry, but i pinky promise that it has a happyish ending. fred is dead, grief, hurt/comfort, hospital visits, sick sibling/children, some swearing, but also some fun and lightheartedness, plenty of christmasy fluff, first kisses

AN: last Christmas fic of the season!

The early morning snow buffeted at your back as you stepped into Weasely Wizard Wheezes. The store had just opened, you saw someone turn the sign as you finished your breakfast at the Three Broomsticks, but you wanted to beat the holiday rush so you could really take your time.

The smell of cinnamon and woodsmoke, plastic toys and what could only be described as joy, welcomed you inside. An enormous Christmas tree hung upside down from the ceiling, decorated in orange, purple, and gold, with handmade ornaments over every branch and popcorn strings strewn around it. Every shelf was stocked and festively decorated, and soft Christmas music played from the speakers.

You stopped in the doorway, tears welling in your eyes. Your brother would love this. You had hoped that he’d be having a good day today, that maybe, by some miracle, he’d be well enough to come with you. But he’d spiked a fever late last night, and was going in for some imaging today to ensure he hadn’t caught pneumonia…again.

“Morning,” a voice called to you, and you looked up, hastily wiping tears on your sleeve. George Weasley, a man you’d never met but would recognize anywhere, was halfway down the spiral staircase, a cup of coffee in hand. He was dressed in the iconic pinstripe suit, his copper hair a little longer than the last time you’d seen him two years prior, not that he’d remember.

The only reason you remembered was because of your brothers obsession with the Weasley twins. He’d asked to have his hair cut and dyed orange that same afternoon.

More tears welled up, and you cursed yourself, turning away to hide your face. “I’m sorry,” you sniffled, trying to take a deep breath. “I promise I’m not insane.”

You heard him move the rest of the way down the stairs, then approach you, his tall frame taking him across the store in a few strides. He had a bright purple handkerchief in his hand, the triple W embroidered on the corner.

“That’s okay, we like a little insanity around here. What’s your name?” he asked, his voice soft.

“Y/n.” You accepted the handkerchief with a watery smile and dabbed your eyes.

“George. Are you alright, y/n?” he asked.

You sighed, twisting the fabric in your hands. “The holiday’s are just hard.”

He nodded, his jaw flexing, eyes averting from your face to the floor. “Yeah,” he said, his voice rougher than it had been a moment before. You noticed then the dark circles under his eyes, the air of heaviness around his shoulders. “Can I help you find something?” he asked, pivoting quickly.

“Yes, actually. I’m, uh, looking for a gift for my little brother. But he—it has to be something he can play with in bed. Nothing too loud or messy.” Your heart ached as you said it, knowing he would actually love something loud, messy, destructive, as little boys do, but such things weren’t allowed at St. Mungo’s.

George raised an eyebrow. “Strict parents?”

You shook your head, swallowing around the lump in your throat. “He’s in hospital,” you murmured, hating saying the words aloud.

George’s face fell. “Oh—Merlin, I’m really sorry.”

A flicker of understanding passed between you, your broken hearts beating at the same rhythm for a moment. You knew about the death of his twin, Fred, everyone did, and now he knew your pain as well. That knowledge weaved an invisible string of connection between you, forged in empathy.

“We can absolutely find something for him,” George said, his voice painfully sincere. He offered you his arm and you accepted, needing a bit of steadiness. “What kind of things does he like?”

You started to walk through the store, looking around the towering shelves, at a bit of a loss. “Well, he loves Whizz-bangs, and your Pyrotechtrix.”

George smiled, chuckling to himself. “Fun, but not exactly suitable for a hospital.”

“Exactly. But honestly, anything you recommended, he’d absolutely adore, so long as I told him you recommended it.”

“Oh yeah?” George raised an eyebrow, glancing down at you.

Saints, he’s handsome.

“Yeah, he’s a big fan. He used to beg us to stop in every time we came to Diagon Alley so he could watch your demonstrations.”

George’s smile widened, a flush creeping up his neck. “Well, ah, that’s really—” he scratched the back of his head, clearly flustered by the revelation. “That’s very kind,” he managed with a breathy chuckle.

The door jingled as another customer came in and you tensed, George’s eye flicking towards the new customer, then back down to you.

You moved to slip your arm from his. “I can look around, you go ahead—”

“Oi, Ron!” George shouted, a hand cupped around his mouth, his arm tightening around yours so you stayed put.

“What? I’m sorting inventory!” Ron Weasley shouted back, appearing from the back of the store with arms full of boxes. His eyes quickly scanned over you, your joined arms, then back to George, who was nodding his head towards the door. “Welcome to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes!” Ron turned greeted the customer, dropping the boxes where he stood.

You chuckled, leaning a bit closer to George, grateful that he didn’t abandon you.

“You’re my first priority today,” he murmured to you, close enough that you could smell his amber cologne, and you felt your anxiety unspool for the first time in weeks. For this one thing, this small, Christmas gift hunt, you weren’t alone.

You spent the rest of the morning with George, wandering through aisle after aisle as he talked you through every product you showed an interest in. At first, he seemed reluctant to talk about products with stories tied to Fred, like prodding a sore wound, but eventually he was telling story after story, grinning and laughing at the memories of their countless antics.

He encouraged you to share about your brother as well, and by the end, you were both in stitches from laughing, cheeks sore and eyes watery with tears. It warmed your heart to see him light up at the his brother’s memory, to see the love between them still very much burning, and soothed a bit of your fear.

No matter what happened, the love and the memories would remain.

You finally settled on an Aviatomobile and a few muggle magic tricks, nothing explosive, sticky, or illness-causing. George carried the items to the counter, setting them gently on surface, but hesitated when he reached for the register.

He turned, grabbing a gift box from beneath the counter. Carefully, he wrapped each item in branded tissue paper and nestled them into the box, then rearranged them once, then twice, before finally placing the lid and tying an orange bow around it. Then, he grabbed one of the paper ornaments from the counter, where kids could write little messages or drawings to hang on the gravity-defying Christmas tree, and scribbled something on it before securing it to the bow.

“There we go,” he said, pushing it towards you with a sheepish smile.

You reached for you wallet. “How much do I—”

He shook his head, waving you off. “It’s on me. Least I can do for an avid supporter.”

Tears burned behind your eyes again, caught off guard by his generosity. “George, I can’t—”

“Please, just—let me do this for your brother.” George’s eyes held yours, soft around the corners. “It’s what Fred would do.”

You nodded, unable to speak through the lump in your throat.

“Would you want to, uh, maybe get a drink later? Or coffee?” He asked, rubbing the back of his neck, freckled cheeks flushing pink.

You smiled, your heart flipping in your chest. “I’d love to. We could get ice cream at Fortescue's?” You offered.

He smiled back. “Perfect. 7 o’clock?”

“Perfect,” you repeated, fighting a nervous giggle. “I’ll see you later, then.” You hefted the box in your arms and waved goodbye, hurrying out before you said anything embarrassing, or melted into a puddle of goo on the floor.

Halfway down the street, you finally glanced at the paper ornament George attached to the gift.

Sorry, mate. No explosive’s. Sister’s orders. But I’ve got a stash in the back waiting for you when you’re ready. Merry Christmas. - GW

You were fizzing with excitement as you approached the ice cream shop, a soft flurry of snowflakes dancing int the twinkle lights strew across Diagon Alley. Vendors were at every corner, selling steaming beverages, candied nuts, and fried dough. Shoppers wandered from glowing door to glowing door, bundled in thick coats and arms laden with bags. A choir sang Christmas carols on the steps of Gringotts, toads wearing Santa hats cradled in their arms, and you paused to listen while they sang “Carol of the Bells”, trying to collect your scattered mind.

You hadn’t stopped thinking about George for a moment, so wound up that you started getting ready three hours early for a simple ice cream date. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt so giddy, so hopeful.

“I like this song,” a familiar voice murmured in your ear and you looked up, finding George standing beside you watching the carolers, the lights reflecting in his brown eyes. He was dressed in a brown wool coat with a Gryffindor scarf around his neck, a white, cable knit sweater and jeans underneath, patches on the knees.

“Me too,” you replied, biting your lips to stop the grin threatening to rise. “How was your day?”

“Chaos. I left Ron to deal with the stragglers. We were supposed to close around six…” he trailed off, his eyes catching on a group of wizards. You followed his eye, and were appalled to find them muttering and pointing at him. And when you looked around, you noticed several groups were doing the same.

Instinctively, you moved closer to him, as if you could shield him somehow.

His fingers twined with yours, warm and calloused. “It’s alright,” he said, turning you to face him. “M’used to it.”

“It’s not alright,” you said, raising your voice and directing a pointed glare at the noisy folks. “It’s rude!”

He chuckled, tugging you away from the carolers. “Easy, love. It doesn’t bother me much anymore. Don’t give them any of your attention.”

You sighed, falling into step beside him, hands still clasped together. “I’m sorry they treat you like that,” you said, glaring daggers at anyone that even glanced in his direction while you walked towards Fortescue's.

“It was worse when we first reopened the shop.” His thumb swiped back and forth across yours, soothing the irritation itching under your skin. “They would come in just to get a look at me. Like my grief was some kind of spectator sport.”

“I can’t imagine having that kind of loss broadcast to the entire world,” you said, glancing at a newspaper stand plastered in the Daily Prophet.

“It’s inhumane,” he replied, stopping in front of the ice cream shop. “But, I’m grateful for it too.”

You raised an eyebrow, facing him in the warm glow of the window.

“Everyone knows how amazing he was,” he murmured, his voice thickening with emotion. He looked down at your joined hands, playing with your fingers. “He’s a hero.”

You squeezed his hand, prompting him to look up at you. “So are you, George," you said, inflecting as much sincerity as you could into your voice. "Y’know, I was there that day, when you and Fred left Hogwarts?”

His eyes widened. “You were?”

You nodded. “I was two years under you, we wouldn’t have crossed paths,” you said, trying to assuage the needless guilt that crossed his face. “But I’ll never forget that moment, watching you guys reclaim the magic that makes Hogwarts, well, Hogwarts. You inspired all of us left behind.”

He gave you a sad smile, his eyes shiny with unshed tears, and brought your knuckles to his lips, brushing a kiss across them. “Thank you for telling me that,” he whispered. “You didn’t get burned, did you?” He asked, worry suddenly creasing his brow.

You giggled. “No, no. No one was hurt besides Umbridge's ego.”

He exhaled, flashing a relieved smile. “Okay, good. Because that would have been a terrible first impression.” He opened the door to the ice cream shop, gesturing for you to step inside.

“My first impression was when you turned Ms. Norris purple during the Halloween feast,” you said, stepping past him and into line, the smell of waffle cones and caramel wafting over you.

George barked a laugh, his head falling back with the force of it, and you smiled. “Better, I suppose.”

“It’s not like I made a great first impression on you, weeping like a sap as soon as I stepped into your store,” you joked, too busy gazing up at his smiling face to notice the line move forward without you.

He shook his head, still chuckling. “No, it was a perfect first impression.”

You ordered your bowls of ice cream, Peppermint Marshmallow Mayhem for George and Gingerbread Dreams for you, and sat at a corner booth by the window, talking about nothing in particular for awhile while you ate.

“So, how’s your brother doing today? You mentioned he had some imaging this afternoon?” George asked, genuine concern creasing his brow.

“He’s doing well, actually. No pneumonia, by Godric’s grace, and his fever broke this afternoon. Still not sure what caused it, but hopefully nothing of concern,” you answered, you heart lifting at his relieved smile.

“Good, I’m really glad to hear that. Now, let me try your ice cream.” He waggled his spoon and you laughed, sliding it towards him. He took the tiniest spoonful, flipping it over to lick it off, and your cheeks warmed at the way his tongue caressed the curve of the spoon.

You knew you were caught when he smirked around the utensil, but he let it slide.

“Here, try mine.” He dug a spoonful out of his bowl, holding it out for you to take a bite with a borderline sinful look in his eye.

“George Weasley,” you teased, shaking your head. “You are such a flirt.”

“Can you blame me? I’m sitting across from my dream woman,” he replied, grinning.

Now your cheeks were really warming, and you leaned forward to take a small bite off the edge of his spoon. Sugary peppermint and creamy marshmallow coated your tongue, and you moaned.

“Good?” he asked, raising a brow.

“Delicious,” you giggled, watching as he ate the rest of the spoonful, and wondered how it would taste on his tongue.

After ice cream, you continued wandering around Diagon Alley, peeking in all the shop windows and sipping warm butter beer, until your noses were pink from the chill, your hair full of glittering snow.

You stopped outside of his shop, the sign flipped to ‘closed’ and only a few lights on inside along with the exterior holiday decor, presumably left on for George.

“I have a confession to make,” he said, stepping a little closer to you.

Your heart pounded in your chest, a thrill of excitement pulsing through you. “What?” You asked, picking invisible lint of his lapel just to have something to do with your hands.

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you since I saw you watching the carolers,” he murmured, sliding his glove off and reaching out to cradle your face, his touch gentle, giving you every opportunity to pull away.

You leaned your head into his large palm, gazing up at him, freckled, flushed, and starry-eyed. You’d never seen someone look at you with adoration before, and it made your soul sing.

Instead of saying anything, you rose onto your toes and pressed your lips to his, a quick, airy peck. But when you went to move back, his hand held you in place, lips just barely touching.

“Again,” he breathed, his other hand coming around to rest on your lower back. “Please?”

You gave the tiniest nod, feeling like your heart might burst out of your chest, and his lips connected with yours again in a slow, languid kiss, the taste of ice cream and butter beer and him making your head go a little fuzzy, your right foot popping up behind you as you leaned into his embrace.

His tongue caressed the seam of your mouth, but he didn’t push further, just a small tease before winding the kiss down until it ended the way it started, with a few barely-there pecks in reluctant departure.

You sighed against him, lowering back onto flat feet, and he smiled, drawing you into his chest for hug. You slipped you arms under his coat, feeling the softness of his sweater and the warmth of his body envelop you.

“Thank you for this,” you murmured. “I really, really needed it.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his arms tight around your body. “So did I. Can we do it again tomorrow? Breakfast? Sunrise picnic?”

You chuckled, tilting your chin up to rest on his sternum. “Breakfast sounds great.”

George beamed, dropping a warm kiss to the frozen tip of your nose. “I’ll pick you up at nine?”

“It’s a date.” You stole one last kiss before slipping away, practically skipping.

You and George saw each other every day for the next week, whether it was to wander around Diagon Alley, looking at the lights and festivities, or grabbing a quick cup of tea between busy shifts. Neither of you could stand being apart for more than a few hours at a time.

Tonight, George invited you to his flat for dinner and muggle Christmas films, and you were dressed in the ugliest Christmas sweater you could find. With a timid hand, you knocked on his door.

It opened under you fist, revealing George on the other side, wearing a maroon sweater with a giant ‘G’ on the front of it and a sauce splattered apron.

“Hey, love.” He tugged you inside, pressing an eager kiss to your lips before ushering you down the hall, his deft fingers unraveling your scarf from your neck and peeling the coat from your shoulders. You laughed at his haste, spinning and hopping as he removed your boots. He stopped only when he finally saw your sweater. “Oh, darling. You look ravishing.” His hands fell to your waist and he pulled you into his chest, a mischievous grin on his face. “Very fashion forward.”

“Thank you, baby,” you giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck. You hadn’t called him that before, but it just rolled right off your tongue, natural as breathing.

He loosed a pleased hum, leaning forward to capture your lips in another, slower kiss. “Like hearin’ you call me baby,” he mumbled against your mouth.

The oven beeped loudly, startling you both.

“Hungry?” He asked with a shy smile.

“Starved.”

He showed you to the dining room, a round table with a vase of flowers at the center, candles strewn on every surface. He pulled a chair out for you and you sat, accepting a kiss on the cheek before he dashed back into the kitchen.

You looked around, having been too caught up in his frantic greeting to take in the space. The rest of the flat was sparsely decorated, purely functional, besides a sagging bookshelf in the living room, and a few photos along the hallway. Not a Christmas decoration was in sight.

George returned with two glasses of wine, the bottle tucked under his arm. “Here we go, a little Pinot Noir for my gorgeous girl.” He set the glasses down then finally sat down in his chair.

“Thank you, baby,” you teased, and he smirked, withdrawing his wand from his apron and waving it towards the kitchen. A moment later, a giant bowl full of pasta, a basket of bread, a salad bowl, and two plates came hovering out of the kitchen, arranging themselves neatly on the table.

“Bon appetite.” He raised his wine glass, a shy little smile on his face, and you raised yours to cheers, so charmed you could cry.

Two hours later, you were curled up on George’s couch, half enjoying Home Alone, half enjoying the feel of each other’s skin under your sweaters, the rich taste of wine on each other’s tongues.

“How come you haven't decorated for Christmas?” You mumbled between languid pecks, his soft lips moving to trail over your jaw.

“Didn't much feel like celebrating this year,” he replied, kissing down your neck, his tongue tracing your pulse.

“And yet here we are, watching corny holiday films,” you chuckled and felt him smile against your neck.

“Things changed.” He lifted his head, capturing your lips in a heavy, open-mouthed kiss that made your blood warm, your heart beat a little quicker in your chest.

Suddenly, something slammed against the window, a frantic scrabbling against glass that had George springing up like something electrocuted him.

“Errol?” George moved toward the window. “No, what the fuck—”

“Oh my god, what are you doing here?!” You cried, jumping up and throwing open the window. Your family owl flew in, landing on the back of the couch. Fear pumped through you and you snatched the letter from his beak, rougher than the poor bird deserved in your panic.

“What is it?” George rested his hands on your hips as you tore it open.

The words on the card made your heart stop.

Mungo’s now, Mum

“George,” you whimpered, sagging against him as terror rocked through you.

He took the letter from your hand and skimmed it. “Go get your coat on, I’ll take you.”

“I—” You were frozen, darkness pulsing at the edges of your vision.

His hands came up to hold your face, shaking you gently. “Honey, we have to go. I’m going to be right here with you, okay? We’re going together. But we have to move now.”

You nodded, clawing through the sludge of fear and clinging to the thread of stability he offered. He helped you into your coat and shooed the owl out, not even bothering to lock up before he was ushering you into his chest.

“Hold onto me,” he ordered, and you did, and suddenly the world was sucked away, a dizzying, horrible tornado of space, and then it spit you back out on the front steps of St. Mungo’s.

“Holy shit,” you gagged, clutching onto George and he held you upright.

“Sorry, love. Never apparated before?” He asked, rubbing your back.

You shook your head.

“Y/n!”

George stiffened, his hands tightening on you, and you looked up.

“Mum!” You cried, rushing to her.

“Oh, hun. I’m sorry to frighten you, he’s okay. Just a scare. I’m so sorry, darling,” she cried, clinging to you.

“Sh, no, it’s alright. I should be here,” you soothed, squeezing your eyes shut to stop the tears from falling. “What happened?”

“He couldn’t breathe, his lungs—pneumonia again,” your mom hiccuped, wiping at her cheeks. “Who’s that?” She asked, looking over your shoulder.

George was were you had left him, hands stuffed in his pockets, his eyes bouncing from you and your mom to the strangers mingling on the sidewalk. You could tell his hackles were raised, some protective instinct roused when he’d been startled by the owl.

You waved him over. “Mum, this is George Weasley. George, this is my mum.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” George said, offering her a hand and a shy smile.

She clutched his hand hard and you both winced. “I-you-Weasley—The George Weasley?” She gasped.

“Just George is fine,” he said with a nervous chuckle.

“Oh my, I just can't believe—”

“Mum, can we go see him now?” You interrupted, anxious to see that he was well yourself. “I promise you'll have a proper introduction later.”

“Yes, of course. This way.” She released George and grabbed your hand, pulling you towards the hospital.

George hesitated, until you reached your hand out to him. He immediately threaded your fingers together, falling into step with your frantic mother.

A few moments later, you rushed into your brother's room, finding him upright and smiling, some new tubes in his little nose, but all together looking well.

“Mum, I said to leave her alone!” He argued, crossing his arms over his reindeer pj's.

“Hush you,” you scolded lightly, wrapping him up in a hug and kissing his forehead, noting his lingering fever. “How are you feeling, darling?” You asked, pulling back to hold his face.

“M'okay. They let me have some ice lollies earlier!” He chirped, sticking out his neon blue tongue.

You grinned. “I see, that's excellent.”

He opened his mouth to say something else, but then you saw his eyes widen, mouth falling open in shock. You turned to see what he was looking at and realized it was George, who was loitering in the doorway.

“Is that—” your brother started, and George looked up. “Wizard—Wizard Wheezes!”

George’s solemn expression shattered into a wide smile as he stepped into the room, his energy shifting instantly. “Hello, mate! I’m George. Heard your not feeling so good?” George reached out to shake his little hand, and he took it, his fingers dwarfed by George's palm.

“No, no. I'm fine!” Your brother replied, shock melting into excitement. “What are you doing here?”

George glanced down at you. “Your sister has been telling me all about you, and how strong you've been lately,” he said, crouching down beside the bed. “She loves you a lot, y’know?”

You stepped out of the way, tears starting to burn behind your eyes. Your mother slipped her hand into yours, watching the interaction with a hand pressed to her mouth.

“I know, but she worries too much,” your brother answered, and George burst out laughing.

“That's what happens when you love someone,” George replied, smiling. “You want to protect them from anything that might hurt them, even if you know you can't.”

“I’m big like you, I don't need protecting!” He argued.

George nodded, pressing a hand to his chest apologetically. “I can tell. But that doesn't mean they don't want to try anyways. And big guys like us have to protect them in return, yeah?”

Your brother nodded, puffing up his chest. “I'll never let anything happen to my sister. I promise!”

You blew him a kiss, and George gave him a high five.

“That's my buddy. Now, let's see if I've got anything special for heroes like you.” George fished around in his pocket, making dramatic faces while he rummaged in what you thought was an empty pocket.

But then he withdrew what appeared to be a toy airplane that would in no way, shape, or form fit in that pocket without magic. Your brothers face lit up when George threw it in the air and it started to fly, ducking and whizzing around the room.

“Hm, that wasn't what I was looking for,” George said with a dramatic frown, and you giggled. He glanced over his shoulder at you, breaking his frown to smirk at your reaction, and started fishing around in his pockets again.

He pulled out a bouncing ball, then a rubber chicken, a set of chattering teeth, a stuffed teddy bear. Item after item came out of his pockets until your brothers bed was covered in toys and gag items, and a dozen nurses were watching in amazement from the hallway. You and your mom were fighting through silent tears, your heart so big you felt it might explode out of your chest.

Most importantly, your brother was ecstatic, playing with this and that and chattering away at George about the different products and teaching him how to do magic tricks George himself had invented.

But half an hour later, your brother’s nurse came in to administer some of his medication and get him ready for bed. He tried to protest, but his new best friend, George, managed to talk him into not only compliance, but eager acceptance of his medicine.

You stole George away into the now quiet hall, Christmas lights illuminating the dark corridor, and threw your arms around his shoulders, burying your face into his neck, needing to feel him close, to ground you through the onslaught of emotions.

He wrapped his arms around you, his head turning to kiss your temple. “Need some air?” He murmured, and you shook your head no.

“Just need you,” you whispered, holding him tighter.

He let you cry into his shoulder, rubbing soothing circles onto your back and murmuring reassurances into your hair. When you'd exhausted yourself, you pulled back and he reached up to hold your face, wiping your tears with his thumbs.

“Thank you for doing that,” you sniffled, sliding your hands down his chest, his sweater soft beneath your palms.

“It was my pleasure, love,” he replied, looking you in the eye. “You—him—this, I needed this. Needed you,” he breathed, voice tightening. “I forgot why we did it all, what all the sacrifices were for, and you reminded me. He reminded me.”

You rose on your toes to press a kiss to his lips, not knowing how else to express how you were feeling that wasn't, well, insanely soon.

He kissed you back, passionate enough to steal your breath, but released you when the door to your brother's room opened.

“Darling—oh, I'm sorry. Darling, would you like to come get a cup of coffee with me?” Your mother asked, clearly fighting a grin at discovering you.

“Sure, mum,” you exhaled, reluctantly stepping away from George. “You okay for a minute?”

“Absolutely, I'll keep an eye on him.” He pressed a kiss to your knuckles before releasing you to your mother, a soft smile on his face.

When you returned twenty minutes later, you found George stretched out in the arm chair pulled up right next to your brother’s bed, Rudolph on the television.

“—Fred managed to get the deer into the kitchen with some carrots and loaf of banana bread, and kept him distracted while I tied bells and ornaments—mom’s favorite’s, of course—to it’s antlers.”

Your brother was giggling, curled up with the stuffed bear George conjured earlier, his eyes heavy as he fought to stay awake to hear the story.

“But then we ran out of banana bread and Fred tried to give it some cookies, but by then the deer had discovered the Christmas tree in the corner, with the popcorn strings and cranberries and salt dough ornaments, y’know? So the deer started eating the bloody Christmas tree and we cannot get it out of the house now. It’s found the best sodding snack on earth. So by the time my mom get’s home, half the tree is gone, there’s shi—dirt all over the house, dishes are broken, holes in the walls—”

“What did she do?” Your mom asked, laughing. “I would have sent you out to live with the deer and it’s family.”

George grinned. “We ate nothing but carrots and banana bread for a week. Even for Christmas dinner. It was torture,” he chuckled, turning back to your brother, only to find him sound asleep. “That boring, huh?” He joked, rising from the chair so your mom could take it. But instead, she pulled him in for a hug, surprising him.

“Thank you for doing this, and I’m so sorry about your brother. But I know he’d be so proud of you today,” she murmured, and you saw George’s eyes well, his jaw flexing as he tried to fight it. Your mom pulled back, pressing a kiss to his cheek, then smoothing away her lipstick with her thumb. “You’re a wonderful, wonderful man, George Weasley. And I’m so glad you’re here.”

He nodded, a tear streaking down his face. “Thank you, ma’am. That’s very k-kind.”

Your mother passed him to you, his hand gripping your tightly as he fought to keep his composure. “Goodnight, mum. I’ll see you in the morning?”

Your mother nodded, waving you away while she kissed your brothers cheek.

You led George out of the room and down the hall, finding an empty room to slip into. As soon as the door closed behind you, he sank to his knees, great, heaving sobs wracking his body. You lowered yourself to the ground with him, pulling his head into your shoulder and rocking him back and forth, his tears soaking through your sweater and shaking your whole body.

“I miss him,” George gasped like he was in pain, his grip almost bruising around your body.

“I know, baby. I know you do,” you said into his hair, holding his head against your chest. Your own tears began to spill then, for him, for you, for your family, and his, and you clung to one another as the overwhelming grief took it’s pound of flesh.

Slowly, he began to settle, breathing labored, but his tears subsiding. He lifted his head, looking at you through tear-brightened eyes, his lashes dark and spiked with moisture. You leaned forward, kissing away the droplets on his cheeks and jaw, until you felt him start to smile.

“I-it’s been so long since I—” he cleared his throat, reaching up to cup your face, wiping away your tears with his thumb. “I was numb for awhile, so long I sort of forgot what anything else felt like. I meant what I said earlier, you reminded me of what I’d lost, but in the best way.” Tears welled up again, but he smiled through them. “He would have been so fucking jealous that I got you. But Merlin, he would have loved you so much.”

You huffed a laugh, lower lip trembling as your heart soared. “George,” was all you could manage, and he leaned forward to kiss you, rising onto his knees and pulling into into his chest.

Then, that wild spinning sensation enveloped you again, and in a blink you were back on his couch, exactly as you were before, the credits to the movie rolling on the screen, your glasses of wine exactly where you left them.

“Stay with me tonight,” he asked, trailing kisses down your neck as you reoriented yourself. “Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve, we could spend it together.” He lifted his head to look you in the eyes, and you nodded eagerly.

“Yeah,” you said, laughing as he rained kisses over your face. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Thank you so much for reading!

I hope you have the most wonderful holiday season and start of the new year <3

[raekensluver]

moonlit confessions

description: connecting with theodore nott after escaping the chaos of a slytherin rager.

pairing: theodore nott x fem!reader

contains: partying, late night confessions, drinking, mentions of alcohol, smoking.

song rec: i'm yours by isabel larosa- "nervous, trip over my words, you're so pretty it hurts."

w.c: 1.4k

an: in my slump era....

the room was a blur of motion and color, the air thick with the scent of spilled alcohol and the haze of cigarette smoke. the pulse of the music thrummed through the floorboards, setting a rhythm that seemed to dictate the movements of the slytherin students as they danced and cheered. you leaned against the cool stone wall, watching the game of beer pong unfold with a detached amusement. mattheo and blaise were a formidable team, their laughter echoing off the walls as they scored point after point, while pansy and draco's competitive banter added a sharp edge to the atmosphere. it was the kind of party that you used to love, but tonight, it all felt a bit too much.

you decided to take a break from the chaos, making your way through the crowded room, looking for a familiar face. your eyes scanned over the faces, some flushed with excitement, others with the beginnings of a hangover. lorenzo berkshire caught your gaze from across the room, his dark eyes twinkling as he leaned in to whisper something to the girl he was flirting with. you rolled your eyes and continued your search for theo, wondering if he had retreated to one of the quieter corners to escape the cacophony.

as you moved through the party, the twins, fred and george, intercepted you with mischievous grins. "looking for someone?" fred asked, his hand offering you a beer. you took it, smiling politely. "theo nott," you replied. "ah, the mysterious one," george said with a wink. "last we saw, he was playing hide and seek with a group of his adoring fans." they both chuckled, their playful teasing a welcome distraction.

you thanked them and continued your search, the music's bassline vibrating in your chest. the party was in full swing, but theo's usual charm and presence were nowhere to be found. the crowd grew denser, a mix of laughter and shouts as the game grew more intense. you felt a gentle tug on your sleeve and turned to see luna lovegood, her eyes wide with curiosity. "have you seen theo?" you asked, raising your voice over the din. she tilted her head, considering for a moment before pointing towards the balcony doors. "i think he went outside," she said, her voice delicate as ever.

you pushed through the crowd and stepped into the cool night air, the stark contrast from the stuffy room making you gasp for breath. the moon was high and full, casting a soft glow over the grounds. you spotted theo immediately, leaning against the castle wall, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. he looked lost in thought, his eyes fixed on the distant horizon.

his posture was relaxed, but there was a tension in his shoulders that spoke of his discomfort with the raucous festivities inside. you approached him slowly, the gravel crunching under your feet. "mind if i join?" you called out, your voice low and gentle. he glanced over, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "thought you'd be in there, cheering for the champs," he said, nodding towards the party.

you took a seat beside him, the cold stone wall biting into your back. "not really my scene tonight," you confessed, taking a sip of the beer that had grown warm in your hand. "yeah, me neither," theo said, taking a long drag of his cigarette. the silence between you grew comfortable, filled only by the distant sound of the party and the occasional hoot of an owl.

theo's eyes flickered to you, the embers of his cigarette casting a warm glow on his face. "you okay?" he asked, his voice genuinely concerned. you shrugged, feeling the weight of the night's expectations lifting. "just needed some fresh air," you replied, watching as he exhaled a plume of smoke. the air around you felt charged, as if the very molecules were holding their breath.

his gaze searched yours for a moment before he spoke again. "it's not easy, is it?" theo said, breaking the silence. "keeping up with all of this." you knew he wasn't just talking about the party. the unspoken understanding between you grew stronger with every shared glance. "sometimes i feel like i'm drowning," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

he nodded, taking another drag of his cigarette. "i know what you mean," he said, his eyes never leaving yours. the warmth of his hand found yours, and for a moment, you felt like you weren't alone in the sea of noise and expectations. "theo," you began, but he leaned in, cutting off your words with a kiss.

his lips were warm and firm, the taste of tobacco faint on his breath. his ring clad hand slid up to grip the back of your neck, pulling you closer as if he was afraid you would slip away. you felt your heart stutter in your chest, the suddenness of the kiss taking you by surprise. but you didn't pull away. instead, you melted into him, the warmth of his embrace a comfort you hadn't realized you needed.

his thumb traced gentle circles on your skin, sending shivers down your spine. theo's other hand rested on your hip, grounding you as the world around you faded away. the music and the laughter were just a distant echo, the only sounds that of your mingled breaths and the crackle of the cigarette between you. it was a moment of pure, unadulterated intimacy, a stark contrast to the chaos of the party just a few feet away.

you pulled back, your cheeks flushed and your eyes wide with surprise. "theo," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. he looked at you, his own eyes dark with something unreadable. "yeah?" he responded, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a smirk that was all too familiar.

you opened your mouth to speak, but the words got tangled in your throat. his beauty had always been a silent punch to the gut, leaving you struggling to breathe, let alone form coherent sentences. "you're just… so pretty," you stumbled out, your eyes flicking down to his chest, where his shirt lay open, revealing a hint of his collarbones. it was a clumsy compliment, but it was all you could manage.

theo chuckled, the sound low and rumbling. "thanks," he said, his eyes never leaving yours. he took another drag of his cigarette, the orange ember burning brightly in the dark. "you're not so bad yourself," he added with a wink. the confidence in his voice made your cheeks burn even hotter.

you fidgeted with the hem of your shirt, suddenly aware of how close you were sitting to him. the warmth of his body was intoxicating, and you found yourself leaning into it, craving more of his touch. his hand on your neck had left a trail of fire, and you couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like if he kissed you again.

the silence stretched out, filled with unspoken thoughts and racing hearts. you felt your cheeks heat up as you stumbled over your words, trying to find the right ones to express the tumult of emotions churning inside you. "theo, i… i just…" your voice trailed off, and you bit your lower lip, feeling your heart thud in your chest.

his smirk softened into a gentle smile, and he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. the touch sent an electric jolt through you, and you leaned into it, your eyes searching his for any sign of what he was thinking. "i know," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate in your very soul. "i feel the same."

you took a deep breath, the scent of his cologne and the night air swirling around you. it was a heady combination, making you feel both lightheaded and grounded at the same time. the party inside beckoned, the music and laughter a siren's call that you couldn't ignore. "we should get back," you murmured, not really wanting to leave the sanctuary of his arms but knowing that you couldn't hide away forever.

theo nodded, stubbing out his cigarette against the wall before standing up. his hand found yours, the warmth of his skin sending a jolt through you as he pulled you to your feet. "yeah, we don't want to miss the grand finale," he said, his voice teasing. you couldn't help but laugh, the tension between you easing slightly as you allowed him to lead you back into the mayhem of the party.

[deatheaterv]

MASKED DANCE

pairing : fred weasley x fem!reader

genre : fluff

summary : at the yule ball, you find yourself standing alone, feeling left out. until a masked stranger sweeps you onto the dance floor. the mystery deepens as his charm and teasing draw you in, making the night unforgettable.

the yule ball was everything you had imagined it would be. the entire hall was glowing with candles, the scent of perfume and roses filling the air. students were dancing, laughing, and chatting, but despite the festivities, you felt like an outsider.

you were standing by the punch bowl, quietly observing the swirling crowd, feeling your heart sink with every passing minute. no one had asked you to dance.

sure, you weren’t exactly the most outgoing, but you had hoped someone would at least ask you for a dance. but as the hours went by, it became clear that it wasn’t happening.

you sighed, trying not to let it show. you loved your friends, but at times like this, it was hard not to feel a little left out.

just then, a shadow loomed beside you. you glanced up, half-expecting another pitying glance, but this time it was different.a figure in a simple yet striking mask stood before you, his presence bold and confident.

“care for a dance?” the voice was unfamiliar, yet oddly comforting.

“who—” you started, but the person cut you off with a soft chuckle.

“does it matter?” he said, a playful note in their voice.

without giving you a chance to answer, the masked figure offered his hand, and with a slight hesitation, you took it.

he led you to the dance floor, your heart skipping a beat at the sudden closeness. the music swirled around you as the two of you moved effortlessly in sync.

you couldn’t help but wonder who this person was. his movements were smooth, his touch gentle but firm. yet there was a playfulness to him, a sense of freedom that made you smile.

“so, what’s your name?” you asked, trying to fill the silence.

“does it matter?” he replied again, that teasing tone in their voice.

“i suppose not,” you said, laughing softly. you found yourself at ease, the nerves melting away as you continued to dance.

the stranger seemed to be having as much fun as you, his laughter light and infectious.

after a long pause, the masked figure spoke again, his voice low, almost shy this time. “it's fred,” he said.

“ou blinked in surprise. “fred?”

“yeah, fred weasley,” he confirmed, his voice playful as ever.

the name sent a spark through your heart. it clicked. you had seen that cheeky grin a thousand times on his face, but now, behind the mask, you realized just how much you had been missing.

“fred, huh?” you said, smiling up at him.

“figured it was time you knew,” he said with a wink, spinning you lightly in his arms, making your heart race.

the music carried on, the two of you moving together as though you had danced a thousand times before. it felt so right, so easy.

as the night wore on, you felt lighter than you had all evening. fred was nothing like you’d expected and everything you hadn’t known you were looking for.

as the song came to an end, he pulled back, looking down at you with a playful grin.

“i’m afraid this is where i must leave you,” he said.

you frowned, disappointment washing over you. “are you leaving?”

“yeah,” he said, but there was a hint of regret in his tone.

before you could say anything else, he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. “thank you for the dance, pretty,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

you stood there for a moment, heart racing, completely stunned. the warmth from the kiss lingered on your cheek as you watched fred disappear into the crowd, leaving you breathless and dazed.

as you looked around the room, you smiled, trying to gather yourself. you hadn’t just danced with someone mysterious; you had danced with fred weasley. one of the most mischievous people you knew.

the night felt magical, and though you didn’t know when or if you’d ever see him again, something told you this wouldn’t be the last time. and as the music played on, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you would be seeing him. but maybe, just maybe, next time he’d be without the mask.

[polo-drone-055]

The Golden Army meets The Polo Drones: Part 1

Written at the command of and in collaboration with @hypnogold

Sitting in a coffee shop looking stressed is Richard the captain of the Golden Army Football Club.

Richard calls a close confidant. His stress getting the best of him Richard is speaking loudly.

“It was worse than you can imagine.”

“No! The Silver Collective didn’t win the match. We gave it to them on their own silver platter. We weren’t united. We lacked focus. Had no energy. What’s worse is that this was predictable. I should have acted sooner.”

"Yeah, I saw the red flags. The past few weeks I noticed the Bros off the field were eating rich foods at restaurants, smoking, attending all the festivals and going to late night movies."

"They were beginning to sleep in, miss workouts, and spend more time talking about their accomplishments on the pitch than actually focusing on their drills. I used our beach outing to try and bring back discipline, unity, and ambition. Obviously it didn’t work."

"Then there is our new wingback. Christian! #55."

"I have no idea what to do with that situation."

"If most of the team is losing focus he is overly ambitious. You saw how he stayed up too often, despite my instructions, allowed space out wide for Silver to fill letting them score and losing us the match."

"Now the media and fans are out for him. The headlines are nonstop: “Christian is worthless!” “Sack #55!" “This guy is crap!” The fans throw beer, food, drinks and all sorts of stuff at him. When out about the city he is constantly cursed at."

"He feels awful and has apologized repeatedly to the Bros."

"Christian is working extra hard to refine his skills but does not seem to be improving. No matter how much I and the Bros encourage him, work with him, and give him shoulders to lean on things are not changing."

"Bro, thanks for letting me get this off my chest. You’re the best."

"No, I’m not giving up. We will rise and conquer. We are Golden strong! Later Bro!"

As Richard finishes the call a man who had been standing at the counter behind him approaches saying “Excuse me, I could not help but hear your conversation.”

Startled by the interruption Richard looks up and is taken aback by the man wearing a black Fred Perry polo with distinctive yellow details including a laurel wreath embroidered on the chest with the top button fastened. The fabric had a glossy sheen to it, almost rubbery or latex-like.

Dazed, Richard responds “What?”

“I heard your conversation and can feel your frustration. I know you are trying your hardest.”

Staring at the polo and only half listening Richard mumbles “Yeah Bro”

“Your Golden Army Club is top of the league.”

Richard nods.

While speaking the man sits down and touches Richard whose golden spiral appears in his eyes.

“Everything will work out. It will be okay.”

As Richard’s arm and gold jersey brush against the polo a warmth and peace comes over him. His golden spiral which had been dim begins to brighten.

“We can help you be more focused, more intense, more synchronized. Your mates will once again work as a team, a unit. You will not be defeated again. Feel your confidence return.”

The man moves closer so that more of the smooth slick sheen of the polo is rubbing against Richard who can’t resist running his palms over it. The feel is tantalizing.

“Yes, feel it. Feel the intensity come over you. Do you like how it feels?"

"Yeah Bro," Richard says with more focus and intensity.

"I have another one you want it?" The man holds out the polo for Richard to see.

"Feel it. Feel the strength, confidence and conviction exuding from it. Imagine possessing all those traits yourself forever."

Without hesitation Richard viciously grabs the polo and puts it on. The immediate sensation of being tightly wrapped and constricted is immense. The smooth slick surface feels both isolating and sensual.

"Oh Bro!!!!" Richard exclaims running his hands all over his torso experiencing sensations as never before. “We will improve. We will grow” His voice becoming monotone and robotic as he speaks. “We will defeat. We will improve. We will grow. We will defeat.

With every repetition Richard’s strength, confidence and conviction deepens. The gold within accepts that to be on the top, to be the best it must be more focused, more intense, more synchronized. It must unite with polo.

Totally in sync with absolute confidence and conviction of their purpose the two leave the coffee shop heading for Club Pulse where Christian is waiting.

[b4mpyre-k1zz3s]

Hii i was so in love with ur ville fic 🖤 I was wondering if you wanted to write something like ville x musician!fem! reader? Like they’re playing in a festival together and she can’t place why ville is nice to everybody but her but he’s just having a hard time expressing that he likes herrr? Tysm 🖤

You’re So Cold

Once Y/N discovers the reasons behind Ville’s cold, disattached behavior, she finds herself fascinated with this twisted game the two of them play.

Ville Valo X Fem!Reader

(Fluff, angst)

1.7k Words

Warnings: Suggestive content, smoking, alcohol

An: Thank you so much for the request!! I’m really surprised how well my Ville fics are doing because I didn’t expect him to have the sort of reach my other fics might! I actually received annother request while writing this that I used to create this fic so I included the one I didn’t reply to directly but still used below! Nonetheless, I adore writing for him and would love to write more for him in the future! Anyways, thank you for the request and please keep sending more in!

Nürburg, 2001- brushing shoulders with the likes of Godsmack, Papa Roach, and Linkin Park was you, and you’d never felt more out of place. See, the issue arose with the fact that while your music was popular, it wasn’t that kind of popular, and especially not outside of Europe. Surrounded by so many musicians that you yourself loved and respected, you started to feel a little out of place after you nearly stumbled into someone backstage that you were pretty sure was Alanis Morissette. It also didn’t help that, due to traffic that morning, you were cutting it pretty close for such a large event so you had to hurry onstage just before call time. Still, you held yourself together; anyone in your position would be over the moon to be performing at the Rock Am Ring, so you took a deep breath and stepped out onto that stage, looking out at the imposing sea of people in front of you- tens of thousands of them. But it was as if all of that anxiety melted away with that first surge of adrenaline. In that moment, you were feeling pretty damn invincible.

That performance is what drew Ville to you. The passion you had for your music was palpable- he could feel it, all the way from where the rest of the bands were chilling out backstage. They were drinking and laughing, blatantly ignoring the enchanting performance that the woman on stage was putting on. What idiots. Taking a sip of his beer, Ville cocked his head a little to get a better look at you, “Who’s that?” Sitting across from him, on a riser cluttered with gear with his own drink in hand, one of the other performing artists- Fred Durst of Limp Bizkit fame- glanced over to the stage and spoke up, “You mean that chick?” With a raise of an eyebrow, he gestured towards you with a tilt of the bottle he was holding. “Oh, that’s Y/N. I ran into her earlier- seems pretty cool.” His words went in one of Ville’s ears and out the other, too enraptured with you to really pay attention, “Yeah, cool…”

Now, this isn’t something you’d easily admit, but you were a fan of Ville; I mean, if you were living in Europe in the 2000s, it was kind of hard not to be a fan of HIM. Point is, once you got offstage and was greeted by the obligatory high fives and the ‘nice job up there’s that follow a show put on well, you were pretty excited to meet him. Sitting down next to Ville, you chuckled a little to yourself as Chester Bennington- yes, that Chester Bennington handed you a beer. Being among all these real deal artists made you feel that you really made it. Using one of your rings to pop the cap off your beer, you tried not to sound like a total fangirl when you made small talk with Ville, “So, how’d your set go?” But instead of saying it went well and asking you how things went for you, he didn’t even dignify you with a response. Thinking he didn’t hear you, you decided to introduce yourself, “Hey, I’m Y/N! It's really awesome t’meet you, man.”

There was a cold, unamused look on Ville’s face as he murmured a response, “I’m aware.” However, underneath that particularly unapproachable mask he was putting on, far from anything he let bubble to the surface, there were fireworks going off in his head. God, this woman seems so relaxed, so genuine around him- usually, women become overexcited chihuahuas in his presence. And she smelled really nice too, which he had to wonder about if that was a weird thing to think about someone you only just talked to for the first time. Point is, even though he saw himself as concealing his emotions very well here, everyone who he was being all cordial with right before you showed up could see through that charade.

During the festival, you and the rest of the performers were staying in the same hotel for security reasons, and by that I mean the entire place was rented out for the weekend you were staying at- not just a couple floors, the entire hotel. Sure, the place was small but shit, presidents don’t even get this kind of treatment, so you didn’t complain. Despite the disappointing lack of typical rockstar behavior during your stay (you only saw one TV get thrown through a window the whole time), you were having a spectacular time listening to wild tour stories and sharing ideas with like minded artists. Well, except with Ville. Whenever you were hanging out in a group with him, he’d be all cool and relaxed, discussing poetry or niche literature or whatever intelligent assholes like him care about, but as soon as you tried to chime in with your input, he’d get quiet and act as if you weren't even there. Being written off so fast by a guy you respected felt like a blow to the gut, even if you pretended to shrug it off as behavior typical of a man who has women fainting when he passes by on the street.

Since attending wild ragers wasn't exactly Ville’s scene, he usually spent his evenings holed up at the hotel bar, and it was there that one of his band mates, Linde, decided to address the brooding little prince of darkness in the room, “Why don’t you just tell her you like her?” It was painfully obvious to everyone around Ville- everyone except you, and that’s where the problem lay. Despite the image of the confident, sensitive romantic that he projected to the world, he was never too good at expressing emotions because he never really had to be. But you were different. There was this air that followed you wherever you went- this mystique that had him by the neck. So, instead of running the risk of fucking things up, he kept his distance. “If only it were that simple.” Esoteric as always, Ville lit up a cigarette and thought about how lucky he is that you weren't there to hear what he was confessing.

But the funny thing is that you were. In fact, you were sitting at a table not twenty feet away from where this conversation was happening. You would’ve thought he’d realize you were there given the fact that the bar really wasn’t all that busy that night. Still, completely oblivious, Ville went on about how he was so utterly transfixed by your mere presence and that he felt like an utter fool for being unable to muster up the courage to even talk to you as if he were some clumsy teenager. Raking a hand through his hair with a sigh, his throat was tense with traces of silent worry, “I’m going to make an idiot of myself…” The irony of this whole situation captivated you: here you were, needing to force every interaction like pulling teeth under the assumption he couldn’t stand you, while in reality Ville had been quietly agonizing over you the entire time.

It was a happy, stupidly coincidental confluence of events, like a plot point in a cheesy rom-com. A smile gnawed at the corners of your lips and you decided to take things into your own hands, seeing as he couldn’t. Oh so quietly creeping over to where Ville sat at the bar the way a lynx would stalk a canary, you slipped onto the stool next to him, making your presence known. “How about you buy me a drink?” No matter how cool he tried to play, you could tell he nearly jumped out of his skin at the purr of your voice from the way Ville’s eyes flashed wide for a moment before he turned to you. The amused glint in your gaze, that confident smirk on your lips- you were making his willpower melt away like wet merengue. Ville cleared his throat, keeping his cool as well as he could, “Oh, sure. What’s your poison?”

And sure, you made some small talk with him, but that was more so an excuse for you to watch him squirm in so many subtle ways. Notice the gentle flush creeping up his neck when you mentioned that you were a fan of his, the way he subtly fiddled with the label of his beer as the sound of his suave demeanor cracking sounded like music to your ears. But when the bartender came back with your drink, you quietly palmed the short glass with ice and slipped away, leaving the man with the unshakable resolve at the bar to contemplate what the hell just happened. Surprised at your boldness, Linde summed up what Ville was thinking with one word. “Wow…”

It was only when you left to retire to your room that night that you ran into him again. Mentally occupying yourself with wondering what tomorrow may bring, what with the forced proximity between you both, you didn’t notice Ville’s presence until you saw a thin, ring-clad hand dart out to stop the closing elevator doors. “You know,” nimbly slipping into the cab, he drawled in that beautiful Finnish accent, “usually when someone buys you a drink, it’s customary to stick around a little while.” Looking Ville up and down from, leaning against the opposite wall with arms folded, a smirk crossed your face as you hit the button for your floor. The elevator buzzed to life as you conceded your teasing, “Alright, I get it. How about I buy you a drink?” Taking a few steps forward, you closed the little distance between the two of you, standing nearly chest to chest with him, “Perhaps…a nightcap in my room?” You were so close that you could see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, meeting your gaze with a slight smile, “Ah…Well, it’s not like I could say no to that.”

[loviingpedri]

scooby doo - joao felix

warnings: cursing, halloween decorations such as fake blood being mentioned, drinking, grammar issues

prompt: halloween special with joao.

“joao! our costumes came in. come try it on. i even got floki something.”

“what are we even suppose to be?” joao picked up the white shirt and orange fabric in confusion. he was trying to piece the idea together, but it didn’t make sense.

“how do you not know what scooby doo is?” looking at him in pure disgust for not knowing the most iconic show.

“isn’t it that one show with that dog and haunted house stuff.” he got the idea, but he still seemed unsure.

“yeah it is. look, i even got floki the collar that scooby wears. try on your outfit!” halloween being a close second to your favorite holiday. mostly for dressing up without any embarrassment. and, spending it while hanging out with your soulmate.

this year was your turn to host the halloween party. fake hand prints of blood on all of your walls. brownies with zombie hands with skeleton cake pops. this event was too good to only happen once every year. little toy spiders hanging that cause floki to bark. stickers of bats that seem to lead inside the house from the front door.

without joao, your ideas would’ve never made it out of your head. it seemed only right you were celebrating a festive day with someone who matched your energy.

“our house is nice. we did good.” joao stood next to you with his hand on your waist. admiring the house in your couples costume. “you know what’s nicer?”

interrupting your thoughts, “what?” you thought you messed something up for a second.

“how good you look in purple.”

you quickly turn flustered at his words. laughing off his flirtatious comment, it was still time to get the house prepared for your guests and trick-or-treaters.

joao put on floki’s scooby doo collar as you made sure the drinks were cold for the night.

—————

more guests flowed in throughout the night. both you and joao taking shots for entertainment, careful not to get drunk so easily.

beer pong being a popular game. it reminded you of college, except you didn’t have to rush to class the next day. everyone was so happy, making you even happier.

setting aside with your boyfriend. it was finally time for some pictures. modeling for the camera as he held onto you tightly.

“i wish i could pause time right now.” he spoke gently, but loud enough for you to hear.

“how come?”

“i don’t think any other halloween can compete with this one.” joao was never the type to really sink in with the decorations. he only admired you being happy. you were glad he understood where the deep connection came from.

the door bell rang. more trick-or-treaters were coming often. opening the door as joao was getting the bucket of candy, you weren’t ready for the surprise.

joao almost dropped the bucket as in front of the door were two kids also dressed as fred and daphne. making eye contact with your boyfriend, you could only see what he was thinking about.

“trick or treat!” the two kids yelled as your heart melted.

“it’s our twins. very nice costume young man.” joao bent down to give them extra candy for their costumes. something about the kids warmed your heart.

as they said their thank you and you closed the door. you and joao shared a smile, knowing that you both wanted to spend the rest of your life together.

[ghxstlly]

Bah Humbug!

2199 words, Trial by Fire (Attorney AU)

Mr. Poole tries to have a casual chat with Mr. Becker before the holidays roll around, and learns something that, all things considered, he really shouldn't be all that surprised by lol

Takes place before they got together c:

—

“He—llo, Ira!”

The chipper voice put an immediate stop to Mr. Becker’s train of thought.

Scowling at the interruption, the movements of his pen stuttering as it scratched furiously across his legal pad, Becker didn’t look up— didn’t need to.

“...Poole.” He addressed the other lawyer awkwardly shuffling about in his peripheral with a curt sigh, annoyed by the conversation before it could even begin.

On the other side of the cafeteria table, Mr. Poole was not at all daunted, seeming almost oblivious to Becker’s antisocial demeanor as he seated himself in a vacant plastic chair.

“L—Looks like our lunch recesses lined up today, that’s neat!” He remarked with a friendly, albeit slightly shaky smile, clasping his hands over the table and awkwardly chuckling when Becker didn’t reply. “That never... N—Never usually happens, heh... I mean, not unless we’re... on the same... A—Anyway— uhm, how’s your day been so far?”

Again, Becker sighed, briefly squeezing his eyes shut against the threat of an oncoming migraine. He’d been hoping to spend his break alone— clearly, that wasn’t in the cards today.

“Fine.” He forced his answer through gritted teeth, lifting his gaze to fix the other lawyer with an impatient glare. “So far.”

“...I’m, uh... I—I’m glad!” Nodding eagerly to punctuate, or perhaps to try and mask his nervousness, Poole grinned. “I hope it stays that way— o—or gets better, even! It’s always good to... or, uhm... it’s nice when a... it— it’s a good thing if the d—day you have is... er... yeah.”

Arching a brow, Becker watched Poole immediately cringe, noticeably embarrassed by his own incoherency as he sheepishly cleared his throat and lifted a hand to tug on his collar. It was then that his obnoxious red and green bowtie— designed to look like holiday gift wrap— caught Becker’s attention. Though he grimaced, he managed to resist overtly rolling his eyes.

How the Hell did this guy manage to become a lawyer?

“...Sure.” Becker scoffed, taking note of the light dusting of blush that had appeared on the timid lawyer’s face for a moment before his attention returned to the legal pad in front of him. 

Immediately, he heard Poole breathe a tiny, shaky sigh, heard his knee start to bounce under the table, and for a moment, he couldn’t help but wonder why he always sought him out like this if it made him so nervous.

Even so, Becker chose not to linger on the thought— having learned better than to attempt to understand the disaster that was Freddie Poole some time ago— as he went on with work, trying to ignore the way the other lawyer fidgeted and stole shy glances, waiting, Becker supposed, for an invitation or opportunity that he wasn’t going to give.

Mercifully, he was quiet— at least for a little while. Though he peered occasionally at Becker’s writing and incessantly bounced his knee, it was surprisingly easy for Becker to pay him no mind— at least until the tense, awkward silence hanging between them apparently all at once became too much for him to bear.

“S—Say, Ira—!” Poole blurted, abrupt enough that Becker visibly startled, his pen skidding across the page. “Is this— I mean, is this your last session for the year?”

“For fuck’s sake, Fred, yes.” Sucking a sharp breath through gritted teeth in a bid to maintain his composure, Becker leaned back a little in his seat and pinched the space between his eyes. “Do you mind?”

“Mine too!” Whether or not Poole heard the question, or even noticed Becker’s agitation, surely obvious by now, he didn’t let on as he went on, his voice uneven and shaky with nervous enthusiasm. “G—Gosh, eighty-nine sure flew by, didn’t it? Feels like just yesterday it was summertime, and now it’s all s—snowy and festive, hmh! Do you, uhm... Do you have any f—fun plans for Christmas?”

Dropping his hand from his face to glare tiredly down at his work, Becker scoffed derisively before he could stop himself.

“I don’t do Christmas.”

Though his answer was more than anything meant to discourage further questioning, Becker regretted it almost immediately as Poole’s fidgeting abruptly ceased, a brief moment of thoughtful silence falling over the both of them.

You should’ve just said ‘no.’

“...Huh?” Breathing a small, nervous laugh, Poole tipped his head to the side, searching Becker’s expression with puzzled sincerity. “You don’t... observe Christmas? Not even a little? H—How come?”

“Because.” Becker grumbled almost under his breath, his scowl deepening. “It’s a stupid, asinine excuse for a holiday, that’s how come.”

It was a startled, vaguely worried noise that escaped Poole, then, his scandalized reaction clearly visible even in Becker’s peripheral.

“Aw— c—come on, it isn’t stupid!” The timid lawyer argued, sounding almost offended. “I mean— I do kind of get why you might think that, since I know it’s really... uhm, commercialized nowadays, but I think— a—at least in my opinion— the real meaning behind it is the important part, the part worth celebrating. You know, like the spirit of—”

“Don’t gimme that Hallmark movie bullshit.” Interrupting him with a harsh growl, Becker snapped his pen down onto the table and jabbed a finger at Poole almost accusingly. “You and I both know that nobody actually cares about any of that garbage, and even you ought to have a little more dignity than to try and sell it to me.”

“Wh—What’s that supposed to mean?” Poole countered after a short, indignant pause, crossing his arms. “I’m not trying to sell it— I happen to believe it, thank you very much.”

“Oh, I’m sure. Still believe in Santa Claus, too, right?”

“N— objection, relevance! I’m being serious here, Ira, I—I’m talking about giving, sharing— you know, being good to people! L—Letting people know that they’re cared for! That’s what Christmas is about!”

Despite himself, Becker bristled. He didn’t want to argue— didn’t want to be having this conversation in the first place— but something about the naive earnestness with which Poole spoke to him just then pricked unpleasantly at his fraying nerves.

“Gimme a fucking break, Fred, do you hear yourself?” He snapped, hardly noticing the volume of his voice as it began to rise, nor the way the other lawyer flinched at the sudden harshness of his tone. “You need to grow up and join the rest of us in the real world already. Christmas isn’t about being generous or grateful, it’s all one big delusion— a scam designed to guilt-trip seasonally depressed assholes into spending money they don’t have on shit nobody wants so they can feel better about their lousy, self-absorbed lives for a few miserable weeks a year.

“It’s fake. Every goddamn bit of it, from the hollow smile you get from the cashier at the grocery store to the unsigned card you get from your landlord, and no amount of tinsel, candy canes or wishful thinking is going to change that. So if you wanna continue to waste your time pretending that anyone else in this city gives a fuck about the so-called ‘real meaning’ of Christmas, fine— knock yourself out, just leave me out of it.”

Gaping at him from across the table, looking altogether dumbstruck by the brief but scathing tirade, Poole didn't immediately respond, his stunned expression slowly dampening into a frown as he processed what he’d just heard.

“...Geez.” He eventually mumbled. “T—Talk about bah humbug.”

At that remark, Becker narrowed his eyes, levelling Poole with an unamused glower— a silent warning for him not to push his luck. And although Poole immediately winced, swallowing audibly, he didn’t seem quite ready to concede, his shoulders drawing up in an indignant shrug.

“W—Well! I’m sorry, but it’s true! You’re entitled to your opinion, obviously— you don’t have to like it, but I’m gonna— I—I’m maintaining my stance, here! I mean— come on, Ira, there’s gotta be at least one thing that you enjoy about it, right? Don’t you have a family that you like spending the holidays with? People you love?”

It was a simple question— an innocent question. 

There was no judgement, no contempt, no mockery or ulterior motive in timid lawyer’s tone whatsoever, and yet for a short, jarring moment, Becker, stiff in his chair, felt strangely exposed, like Poole was reading his mind.

“Tch— like Hell.” Dispelling the feeling with a quick scoff, Becker rolled his eyes. “There’s a million things I’d rather do than give any amount of my hard-earned time to those assholes. I spend the holidays the same way I spend all my days off— at home, by myself, so I can get some goddamn peace and quiet.”

“Wh—... O—Oh.” Poole stammered, having opened his mouth as if prepared to immediately make another objection, only to falter at just how casually Becker had spat such a bitter statement. “...You... spend Christmas alone—?”

“Isn’t that what I just fucking said? Yes, alone— just me, myself and I, that’s the way I like it.”

Stunned, Poole merely stared at him, seeming, for once, at a loss for words.

More than once, he opened and closed his mouth, his expression strangely unreadable as his eyes clouded over with something that Becker, suddenly overcome by a hot surge of irritation and discomfort, couldn’t help but quickly look away from— pity.

It made him angry— infuriated him, in fact, the way the timid lawyer was looking at him, now, like he was a victim, a charity case. He could almost hear the other lawyer saying it in his mind, clear and nagging as if the words had been spoken aloud— Oh, poor Ira, no wonder he’s so miserable!

…And yet, despite feeling so suddenly demeaned, belittled by the softness in Poole’s eyes, Becker couldn’t find it in him to explode, his inner fire smothered by something else entirely, something dull and cold.

You shouldn’t have told him anything, idiot.

“...Uhm—” Seeming hesitant to break the tense silence, the quiet little breath Poole took before he finally spoke again was shallow and shaky, betraying his nerves. Distantly, Becker realized he’d begun to fidget again. “I… I’m sorry, uhm… doesn’t that ever get… lonely?...”

“Oh, for the love of— are you deaf?” Willing himself not to grimace, not to appear weak, not even for an instant, Becker met the soft question with what nearly came out as a snarl, an alarmingly defensive tone he struggled, uselessly, to temper. “I just told you— that’s how I like it. Maybe you need other people around all the time to get your sorry ass through the week, but for some of us, the most enjoyable thing in the entire world is solitude. 

“I live alone, I work alone, and no one gives enough of a fuck to try and change that, which is exactly the way I prefer to keep it. So excuse me if I find it just a teensy fucking bit patronizing when you of all people try to pretend like you know anything at all about how I actually feel.”

In his peripheral, he saw Poole immediately deflate, looking all but crestfallen as he sank in his seat, and despite himself, the dejected slump of the timid lawyer’s shoulders made some deeply buried part of Becker feel somewhat guilty, though only for the briefest of moments.

“Now listen, Fred, ‘cause I’m only gonna say this once.” He went on, raising his eyes to fix Poole with a steely glare. “As captivating as this conversation has been, I’ve got fifteen minutes before I gotta be back in the courtroom, and I don’t intend to spend a second more sitting here getting probed by the likes of you. If I wanted to talk to a psychiatrist, I’d go pay for one. So if ya don’t mind, get lost. Go irritate someone else for a change.”

And with that, Becker, finally at his wit’s end with the interaction, snatched his pen off of the table and resumed writing without another word, doing his best to ignore the odd mixture of frustration and humiliation that now churned ferociously in the pit of his stomach.

Across from him, Poole was quiet and still for what felt like hours. Becker could feel his eyes on him, could picture perfectly in his mind the stricken, dejected look that he must have been wearing on his face, and was more eager than ever to be rid of his presence.

When at last the timid lawyer stood, it was, surprisingly, in silence. Neatly tucking his chair in with shaking hands, smoothing over his blazer, Poole didn’t speak, never offered so much as an apology or a goodbye, and though silence was what Becker wanted all along, something about it unsettled him, now.

He did hear Poole sigh, however— softly, resignedly, just as he cast his gaze over him one final time, eyes full of longing, as if there were so many things he wished he could say.

“...Ira,” He murmured after a moment, so quietly that Becker almost didn’t hear him. “I… I’m sure that… s—someone cares that you’re alone, somewhere.”

He turned, then, missing the subtle, involuntary twitch of the other lawyer’s eye, the tightness that became of his jaw.

“Merry Christmas.”

[remuslupinsdaughter]

Christmas

Dad Remus x daughter

Christmas fluff with the family

It’s cold here today so I’m going home instantly festive

It was a cold Christmas Eve at Grimmauld place, Iris was decorating the tree with the twins, Ginny and Hermione, she carefully placed the glass baubles on the branches of the tree, “ok now we just need to get the star on top” Iris said picking up the star and reaching up, stretching on her tip toes but not being quite tall enough to reach. “I need a chair” Iris said turning to grab one then was stopped by Remus, “nonsense we just need a bit of teamwork” he said smiling, Iris laughed and climbed onto her fathers shoulders squealing and laughing as he stood up and she tried to keep her balance, Hermione quickly snapped a Polaroid as Iris placed the star on the top of the tree and Remus put her down again. “Now that is a good looking tree” Fred said looking at it, “still think it would’ve been quicker to just use magic” Ron grumbled, “now where’s the Christmas spirit in that?!” Iris said smiling, Ron just rolled his eyes.

“I’m home troops!” Arthur shouted as he walked through the doors, “and I bring muggle gifts!” Everyone gathered round to see what Arthur had brought home with him, George picked up a case of four drinks, “woah what are these” he said, “J…2…0? What a weird name” Fred said reading the label, “it’s shiny!” Ginny said pointing at the liquid inside the bottles, “is it a potion dad?” Fred asked shaking the bottle, “it’s glitter guys look” Iris said looking at the label, “glitter berry” “these are really good I stole one once when I was at the Dursleys one year” Harry said, “right you lot move out the way, go and set the table” Molly said shooing them out the kitchen.

Iris snuck upstairs with Hermione to finish wrapping presents, “hi Kreacher” Iris greeted the grumpy house elf as she skipped up the stairs, she often felt sorry for the house elf and tried to be nice to him whenever she could, even if she only got a growl in response. Just as Iris began wrapping up her dads present the door opened, “DON’T COME IN” Iris and Hermione shouted in unison, “why what are you up to in there? Are you ok?” Remus said as he started to push the door open more, Iris jumped to her feet and pushed the door back, “we’re wrapping presents and you’ll ruin your surprise so shoo” she said pushing the door fully closed, Remus scoffed a laugh and walked back downstairs.

After dinner everyone was settled in front of the fire talking and laughing, Fred and George were stealing wine from the kitchen and Hermione was plaiting Ginny’s hair. Iris sat next to her dad and leant into his side, Remus put his arm around her and carried on chatting to Sirius and Arthur, they started talking about the order to which Iris groaned and rolled her eyes, Remus looked down at her “everything alright?” He asked, “no order talk it’s Christmas for gods sake! I bet even you know who has a little tree and a mulled wine in whatever creepy hole he’s hiding in” she said to them in an irritated tone, Sirius stifled a laugh, “sorry little wolf, I promise no more order talk” he said with a wink.

“Right you lot! It’s late off to bed” Arthur said clapping his hands, everyone groaned, “come on dad it’s Christmas Eve” Ginny whined, “yeah come on Arthur half an hour longer please” Iris pleaded, “I gave you that nearly two hours ago” he said, Ginny and Iris slouched in their seats, Remus chuckled, “come on do as Arthur says, off to bed”, Iris grumbled up at him and stood up following the others up to bed, “goodnight, and lights out! If you start talking we’ll hear you!” Molly called after them. Iris, Hermione and Ginny walked in their shared room giggling excitedly about tomorrow, “I’m so excited I can’t sleep!” Ginny said changing into her pyjamas and climbing into bed, “me too” Iris said sitting up in her bed, “I hope it snows tonight” Iris says smiling, Hermione gasps “oh I hope so! I’ve never had a white Christmas”.

Soon enough Christmas Day rolled around, Iris and Ginny woke up first and were whispering excitedly, they checked the time, seven am, “that’s not too early right?” Ginny whispered, “I think we’re being quite generous” Iris replied laughing, “I’ll wake my brothers up you wake up your dad and uncle” Ginny says then throws a pillow at Hermione, “what” she groans, “wake up sleepyhead it’s Christmas” Iris says giggling, Hermione laughs tiredly, “come on we need your help waking everyone up” Ginny said pulling on her slippers.

They tiptoed out the room, Hermione and Ginny creeping up the stairs to the boys rooms and Iris snuck into her fathers room just down the hall from hers, she leapt onto his bed and hugged him as tight as she could “merry Christmas dad” she said giggling, Remus smiled, his eyes still shut and wrapped his arm around her, “merry Christmas sweetheart” he said his voice still thick with sleep, he squished her close to his chest and faked a snore, Iris laughed “noooo I still need to wake up uncle Pads” she said trying to break out of his grip, Remus reluctantly released his grip on her and Iris leapt out the bed before he changed his mind, “meet us downstairs” she said and ran out the room, she was greeted by a yawning Ron thumping down the stairs, “dads awake, just getting Sirius now” she said grinning at Hermione who smiled back and nodded.

Iris carefully opened the door but Sirius was already awake, “oh uncle Pads you’re awake” Iris said as she saw Sirius sat fully dressed in the large armchair in the corner of his room by the window smoking a cigar. He smiled up at her and extended his arm at her, she skipped over and sat with him in the armchair snuggling into his side, “are you ok uncle Pads?” She asked looking up at him, “Christmas wasn’t as fun for me when I was a child, brings back some memories which aren’t as nice” he says looking out the window and tapping the excess ash off his cigar. “Well this Christmas is going to be your best one ever, we got you a stocking and presents” Iris said grinning up at him, Sirius smiled back and ruffled her hair gently, Iris stood up, “I’ll see you downstairs I need to organise the presents into piles” she said and ran out the room.

Iris sprinted down the stairs and was pulled to a stop by her dad, “Iris don’t run you’ll hurt yourself” he said sternly, Iris took off running again shouting a “sorry!” As she sped off towards the living room where the tree is, Iris started to organise the presents into piles for each person laying their stockings next to them, “breakfast everyone!” Molly shouted from the kitchen, Iris finished the piles and went to the kitchen, everyone except Sirius was there, Iris made sure to set aside a cup of tea and some eggs and bacon for him, everyone wolfed breakfast down as the parents were dragged to the presents by their children. Iris told everyone where to sit in front of their present piles, she frowned when Sirius still hadn’t appeared.

Everyone began opening their stockings that were full of sweets and chocolates and small zonko products. Just as Iris was about to lose hope and put Sirius’ things back under the tree, he appeared, Iris grinned and grabbed the tea and plate of breakfast off the side, she gave them to him, “I saved you some breakfast before the twins scoffed it” Sirius smiled and took his spot next to his pile, he teared up slightly but shook it off. “Merry Christmas uncle Pads” Iris said smiling at him, “merry Christmas little wolf”.

[wizardingworldlibrary]

Multi Pairings (2) Masterlist

part one

25 Years of Christmas (ao3) - AlindaKB draco/harry, hermione/ron, luna/pansy T, 26k

Summary: Draco, who hates Christmas, spots Harry among some spruce trees when he’s out to find the perfect Christmas Tree with his friends Pansy and Blaise. Over the years they find themselves drifting together and building a life together. And somewhere along the way, Draco finds out that he loves Christmas.

Après Ski (ao3) - scullymurphy hermione/draco, harry/ginny, daphne/theodore, neville/blaise M, 9k

Summary: Ginny’s let a ski chalet in Switzerland for a pre-Christmas weekend with friends. It’s beautiful, cozy and festive, but there aren’t enough beds, which means Hermione and Draco will (reluctantly) have to share. And then, of course, they get snowed in…

A Very Pregnant Birthday (ao3) - lostonplatform934 harry/ginny, hermione/ron, arthur/molly M, 7k

Summary: A very pregnant Ginny Potter celebrates her 23rd birthday with her family (and has some one-on-one celebrations with Harry).

A Weasley Homecoming (ao3) - Beccax95 hermione/fred, pansy/ron, harry/ginny T, 4k

Summary: Sent away on a mission by Minister Kingsley Shaklebolt; Ron Weasley finds himself missing out on five years of his Friends and Families lives. Alot can happen in five years; such as your best friend marrying one of your twin brothers. Join Ron as he reunites with his family and Friends on Fred and George’s Birthday.

Easter Fools (ao3) - storyplease snape/hermione, parvati/lavender, ron/cedric, harry/ginny T, 4k

Summary: It’s Easter Morning…and also April Fools morning…and…well…it’s a bit of both in the Wizarding World. Yeah, I know, I’m posting this a day late *grumble grumble* but I blame the plot bunnies…heh.

Get Your Skates On (ao3) - JulietsEmoPhase draco/harry, seamus/dean, hermione/ron E, 8k

Summary: Christmas Drarry! When he and his friends return to school to complete their final year, Harry doesn’t expect such a strong sense of cheer and goodwill to permeate the student body. But whilst everyone else is having fun, he notices a certain someone holding themselves back, and that just won’t do at all.

Harry Lord of Slytherin (ao3) - Graydove71 sirius/remus, draco/fred, george/blaise T, 109k

Summary: After blowing up his Aunt Marge Harry spend the rest of the summer before his Third Year in Diagon Alley. Having heard about Inheritance Test he decided to take one only learns about the betrayals from his friends. Only to find out that what they had done caused even more harm they could imagine.

In That Heart Courage (ao3) - nlli peter/sirius, james/lily, harry/hermione M, 34k

Summary: Peter Pettigrew was many things in his short life. A Gryffindor and a coward. A friend and a Judas. A Phoenix and a Death Eater. What sort of person contains such opposites? What kind of man can be built from these mismatched pieces? This is the story of the Marauders’ story, and of the misunderstood boy who became a rat, and stood at the centre of it all.

Lily’s Boy (ao3) - SomewheresSword draco/harry, remus/snape, neville/ginny, sirius/charlie E, 746k

Summary: Before his third year of Hogwarts has even begun, Harry faces three whole weeks of unsupervised time in Diagon Alley. In that time he takes a trip to Gringotts - and that changes everything.Burdened with the knowledge that Dumbledore has been blocking his family magic, and manipulating far more than he ever thought possible, Harry doesn’t know who he can trust; but he knows he can’t keep going that way. There’s a whole world of lore and politics and history to catch up on, and the more he learns, the more Harry realises his true place in the world, and how much is being kept hidden from him. All the while, Dumbledore’s twinkling eyes are constantly watching, and Harry can’t let on how much he knows.With help from unexpected places, Harry starts on a journey to end the war, and reshape the wizarding world. With how much he looks like James Potter, people have forgotten one important thing about him - he is Lily Evans’ son, and she was one hell of a witch.

Little Healer (ao3) - dayday344 lucius/narcissa, marauders/narcissa, regulus/snape, tom/snape T, 6k

Summary: The Marauders discover secrets about the house of slytherin that gives them a whole new perspective.

Particularly about one lone slytherin.

love came far too easily (i was just in denial) (ao3) - anonymitea draco/harry, lucius/narcissa, regulus/james, sirius/remus E, 4k

Summary: Draco Malfoy, a top omega model, returns to England after six years in France at his father’s request.

He never expected to get into an arranged marriage with his younger, childhood friend, Harry Potter.

& May Your Days be Merry and Bright (ao3) - mllenoire lucius/narcissa G, 1k

Summary: Their first Christmas, the very first one, was a white one. Lucius takes Narcissa to find their first family tree.

New Year’s Desire (ao3) - WildKitsune pansy/harry, hermione/draco, ginny/blaise E, 9k

Summary: Someone spikes the champagne at the Ministry New Year’s party, and things get a bit complicated. They all find something they didn’t know they needed.

Serpent’s Ascending (ao3) - Madriddler harry/tom, draco/blaise, daphne/theodore, sirius/remus E, 326k

Summary: Harry was seven when he first met Voldemort. The Dark Lord was less than a wraith, but he could see the potential in Harry, a darkness that begged to be nourished. Now his mentor, Voldemort shows Harry the true beauty of the wizarding world and the finer workings of the Dark Arts. Will Hogwarts be ready for this changed Harry? Will the Wizarding World?

Through The Fire (ao3) - SongAngel draco/harry, sirius/remus, hermione/fred, viktor/ron, neville/blaise M, 212k

Summary: Minerva McGonagall checks up on little Harry Potter and finds that not all is as it should be. She makes a decision that will change everything for the Boy Who Lives.

Winter Mornings and Peppermint Kisses (ao3) - Beccax95 hermione/fred, harry/ginny, luna/ron, angelina/george T, 1k

Summary: On a cold winter morning after a bad night; Fred’s presence brings comfort and peppermint kisses, making everything feel a little bit brighter for Hermione.

[racfoam]

hi rac how r u???, i want to know if we could have a a jealousy scene???

I’m good, thank you!

Okay, about time I reveal another fic idea. Also, how dare you use Stitch against me? Look at his teary eyes, he’s so cute, how could I say no to Stitch?!

This is set in an older wizarding society, the time of kings and whatnot. Think about Merlin TV show era? Yeah, that one! Though magic isn't outlawed and the kingdom itself is magical, too. So, how about Voldemort is the dark wizard who takes over as king of the most powerful kingdom and takes the throne, and wants to marry Harry, who he’s keeping imprisoned in the castle?

Harry used to like balls. She always had her friends to dance with, but now there were no familiar, comforting faces of Hermione, Ron, Fred or George anywhere. Most of the faces were families of the dark magic Houses, all pureblood.

Then again, a ball celebrating the Dark Lord’s birthday wasn’t Harry’s idea of fun. Maybe that was the problem with this ball. It felt like it was held just for Voldemort to enjoy while everyone kisses his robes.

So, despite the beautiful green dress the tailoes weaved with magic, Harry shied away into the corners of the room, hoping to avoid dancing with anyone, including Voldemort.

Harry refused to believe Voldemort was human. No human had red, cat-like eyes, no human had slits for nostrils and no nose, and no human had a snake-like face. No human was hairless like he was. No human moved like him, either.

No, Voldemort couldn't be human. He was some half-thing, something between a skeleton, human and a snake. There was no other explanation.

The mere thought of Voldemort passed a terrible judder down Harry’s spine.

“Harry?”

Startled, Harry leapt.

The handsome face and grey eyes of Cedric Diggory stared back at her.

“Ce-Lord Diggory,” breathed Harry. “What're you doing here?”

“I was invited,” said Cedric. “Would've been rude to ignore summons from the king.”

The ugliest king in the history of kings. thought Harry bitterly, understanding between the lines. Voldemort would probably take offence and go to slaughter Cedric’s family.

“Cho and I married,” said Cedric, breaking the silence.

“That’s nice,” said Harry, trying to sound happy. She offered a polite, strained smile. She hasn't smiled except when going horse-riding around the estate with Hedwig, and it felt like she was pulling her muscles in the wrong directions. “Congratulations.”

At least you get to choose. Voldemort will probably marry me off to a dark magic House when he gets bored of tormenting me.

“Harriet.”

That voice froze the blood in Harry's veins. It came from behind her. Behind her stood a hooded, tall man, with eyes that glowed red in the shadow of the hood.

The air around Voldemort was dark, suffocating, his red eyes set on Cedric, staring down sharply at him.

Cedric bowed immediately. “My Lord. My congratulations on your birth day.”

“Lord Diggory,” greeted Voldemort calmly. “I remember. I remember everyone I invite into my home.”

Not your home, you thief.

Voldemort's fingers settled around Harry’s shoulder, possessive. They were bony, spindly, too long, but their touch was warm, burning like a brand. The hairs on Harry’s arms prickled.

“I hope you enjoy the festivities. I’m afraid I must steal dear Harriet away.”

Cedric nodded. Harry was impressed by how well he concealed his fear.

“It was nice to see you again, Lady Potter,” said Cedric. He bowed, adding to Voldemort, “My Lord.”

Voldemort hummed noncomitally. “Come, Harriet. Gift me with a dance.” With that same hand around her shoulder keeping her imprisoned and locked tight beside him, Voldemort pulled Harry away from the table, and through the crowd.

Harry wished she would just die already.

[angelic-writer]

The Mimicry Project - Merry Christmas!

Day 14 of @augusnippets

Prompts: Toys/gifts/celebration

Christmas had always been a good day for the Flammias. When they lived in Florida, their parents gave them many toys, giving them many smiles. As they grew older, people were expected to give up their toys. They were expected to grow up and face adult life.

The Flammias, however, still kept their toys even as they entered high school. People sneered at them saying "You're getting too old for these baby toys!"

"Have you considered getting a job?"

"Grow up! You're too old to be watching cartoons!"

That planted doubts in the littlest one's mind. Catherine Flammia thought 'Am I getting too old for these toys? I don't wanna get rid of them. They're too important.'

They still had friends they could rely on from all walks of life. From twin sisters to an odd boy who was too strong for his own good, it's safe to say the Flammias were content to be who they are around them. However, when they moved to Crestwood to investigate the mimic situation, they had to leave their friends behind.

They were alone. Alone in a strange state, a strange county with no one but their parents and older siblings. Then, they met a new group. High school kids who were trying their best to live their lives while protecting themselves from the mimics. The Flammias had their doubts, but they slowly grew to trust them.

Although, deep down, they were waiting to be forgotten. They were waiting for their new friends to leave them.

One Christmas morning, when Cathy, Fred and George went downstairs, they saw the usual pile of presents from their parents. The day went by as usual with them getting their toys. It was later in the day when their friends walked through the door, carrying with them... gifts for the family?

Mavis and Carter both got them silly socks as well as Hello Kitty plushs, Julia gave them cookies that were allergen free, Gavin gave Cathy the newest Pokemon game, Tyler gave them individual Pokemon plushies and so on.

They blinked, trying to understand why they did all of this. Cyrus put his hand on Cathy's shoulder. "We wanted to give you guys something for Christmas. Y'know, since you helped us so much."

"Yeah! Even if it's just in a small way, you guys have made our lives so much better." Sean chimed in.

"Really...?" Cathy could only say.

"Yep! Merry Christmas!"

And that was it. It was confirmation that the friends the triplets made were here to stay. As the snow began to fall, the friend group began the festivities.

[rocksandrobots]

PotP Ch 51 - Therapy, Tempers, and Triangles: Part 5

 "You have got to be kidding me."

 Varian parked the car and stared out at the fake looking plaster castle before him. A big tacky looking sign read 'Renaissance Times' on the front in big bold red letters above the faux drawbridge and gate.  

 Hiro could only shrug. "You know Sam. He's really into those high fantasy role playing games and such."

 "Oh this is going to be torture, isn't?"

 Hiro grabbed his present and got out of the car before answering. "I think the torture room is closed for renovations. But hey, at least the food on the menu sounded good."

 Varian also grabbed his present that they had stopped to pick up on the way over, and got out of the car. "Unless they're selling mead, then this won't be a true Renaissance banquet."

 "Mead?"

 "Mead is a wine made from honey." Baymax helpfully stated.

 Hiro gave Varian a stern glare. "No wine."

 Varian burst out laughing.

 "I was joking." He dismissed, as they entered the building.

 They were met with a crowd of people milling about a great hall, made to look like an old fashioned tavern. There was a bar, tables, rough wood hewn chairs, and a gigantic stone fireplace in one corner. A welcoming sight on a cold December night, with most of the patrons huddled around the blazing fire. The mantel above was decorated in swords and shields, and woven tapestries hung all around.

 There was both something nostalgic and alien about the whole set up. On the one hand, the people wandering around in blue jeans and tee-shirts would be anachronistic to the time period they were all play-acting at. There was also an air of the theatrical with the sets and what few costumes people chose to wear. Details were off, materials were wrong, and pieces were missing. Women went without camisoles under their dresses and the men still wore tennis shoes over their stockings. The tapestries looked printed instead of woven. The weapons hanging up and the ones little kids waved around were obviously plastic; some even lit up with LEDs. Even the wooden beer steins and ivory horns people were drinking out of were nothing but plastic!

 Despite this unnatural blending of the old and new, Varian couldn't help but note the familiarity of it all. Regardless of the costumes and the fake set pieces, the scene wasn't that far removed from cold winter nights spent in his own castle's hall. Where the village would gather during festivals, town meetings, and particularly bad storms. There too, everyone would be huddled around the large fireplace, eating from the banquet tables, or filling their drinks from the kegs behind the bar that led to the kitchens. Turns out people were still people no matter what time period they were from.

 Varian also noticed music playing, the kind that he grew up on, and turned to see someone actually playing the lute upon a short stage. That's where their friends were gathered now, listening to the bard.

 Sam spotted them first, and a wide grin broke upon his face.

 "Hey you made it! We were worried that you were going to miss dinner!" He greeted them warmly; his plastic birthday crown threatening to fall off at any second as he walked over to meet them.

 Varian's heart began to pound in his ears as the rest of their little group was made aware of him being there. He tried to hide this with a smile and handed Sam the package in his hand.

 "Happy birthday, Sam."

 "Ah, you didn't have to get me anything, but thanks guys."

 Wasabi and the rest joined them as Sam took the presents.

 "Hey buddy!" He greeted Varian with a smile.

 "Glad you could make it!" Fred added.

 Gogo was a little more hesitant however. "Soooo... are you two good?"

 Hiro and Varian shared a look before Hiro answered back. "Yeah, we're good now."

 This seemed to be the permission that Honey Lemon was waiting for and she bounded forward to wrap Varian in a big hug.

 "Ooooh, I'm so happy you two made up, and I'm soooo glad that you're here, and I'm so, so, so, so sorry that we ever fought to begin with. I hope you and Sal... wait... where is Salma? Didn't she get the invite?"

 "She, uh.... Her brother came to town unexpectedly. She's spending the day with him."

 It wasn't a lie, not really, but it was a simple enough answer that avoided any further explanations.

 That's when Varian noticed Tadashi hanging back from the group, his arm still in a sling.

 Varian's stomach dropped.

 Almost sensing the awkwardness themselves, his friends parted back to give the two brothers space.

 Tadashi seemed to hesitate on what to say, the barest sliver of a frown creased the corner of his lips. Then just as suddenly, he arched an eyebrow and gave one his usual disarming smiles.

 "So how many red lights did you run to get here on time?" He joked.

 The tension around them dissipated almost instantly, but Varian still felt nervous.

 "All of them." Hiro answered smugly, stepping in between them. "I told Varian he should have let me drive instead."

 Tadashi gave a hearty laugh. "Oh that would have been a thousand times worse. It's amazing you got here in one piece."

 Hiro looked back and saw Varian standing stock still, wide eyed, and nervously biting his lip. Hiro decided to break the ice for him.

 "Uh, Varian was in such a rush because he wanted to speak with you before dinner. Didn't you?" He said as he gave Varian a gentle nudge forward.

 "Uh.. yeah... c-can we talk... elsewhere?" Varian stuttered.

 Just then a voice announced over a speaker that the dining room was now opening for guests.

 Tadashi gave a quick glance around the hall. He then jerked his thumb towards a side door with a nod of his head.

 "We'll catch up with you later." He told the rest of the guys as the crowd made its way towards the dinning arena.

                                                  -------------------

  "Ugh... I knew this was going to be torture." Varian commented as the three of them entered the disused room.

 The walls were lined with antique devices on display, all designed to inflict pain of some kind. A sign at one end proudly announced that they were in 'The Dungeons'; complete with a fake skeleton, and yellow ticker tape telling them not to touch anything.

 "Stay out here Baymax and let us know if anyone comes by." Hiro ordered his faithful robot before closing the door behind them.

 "So what did you want to talk about?" Tadashi asked, though he could have already guessed the answer.

 "I'm... I'm sorry." Varian said, looking at his toes. "I shouldn't have pushed you like that."

 "Okay... anything else?"

 "Ummm... and I promise to work on managing my anger more."

 "Well, that's a start." Tadashi sighed, and Varian suddenly felt a white hot flash of anger burn within him.

 He threw his step brother a look of contempt, but he fought down his urge to hurl himself at the other guy.

 "You could apologize too, you know." He snapped instead.

 "Oh really? And just what should I be apologizing for?"

 Tadashi's voice dripped with incredulity and Varian found himself balling his hands into fists.

 Hiro rushed in between them before another fight could break out.

 "The amber." He explained. "I know it was my idea to borrow it without asking, b-but we all went along with it.... and we shouldn't have. I'm sorry Varian."

 Both the older teens visibly relaxed.

 "You're right Hiro." Tadashi agreed. "That and the Mindtrap.... We should have listened to you, Varian. Sorry."

 Varian was unsure of what to say to that. As nice as it was to have them acknowledge how wrong they were to mess with the deadly stones, he now realized it wasn't really what he wanted to hear.

 "This is about more than just taking the amber...."

 "Okay, then, what is it?" Tadashi challenged.

 "Why can't you just trust me?"

 Tadashi was visibly taken aback by the question, but Varian wouldn't let him recover as he pushed on.

 "I know more about what's going on than anybody else, why can't you just trust my judgment and listen when I tell you not to do something instead of prying?"

 "Why can't you trust us with the truth, then?" was Tadashi's answer.

 Both men stared the other down and Hiro nervously shifted his feet. This wasn't how things were supposed to go.

 "What 'truth'!?" Varian yelled back. "What is it you need to know so badly that you won't just drop the matter when asked!?"

 "I've already told you!" Tadhasi shouted back.

 It was rare to hear his brother yell, Hiro thought, and he only grew even more nervous.

 "That's your own fault!" Varian shot back. "If you had just listened to me from the start then none of this would be happening!?"

 "Wouldn't it!?" Tadashi sighed. "You don't think that those people from Corona still would have came all the way here to kidnap you had we never met Cardinist?"

 Varian shook his head in exasperation. "Rapunzel doesn't matter. She can't do anything. They can't force me to go back."

 "Why bother forcing you? You're planning on going back there yourself anyway."

 "I'm just going to get Dad and come back!"

 "Then why not let us help you!?"

 "Because it's dangerous!"

 "Exactly! You don't need to be doing dangerous stunts like that without backup!"

 "It's not a 'stunt', and I know what I'm doing!"

 "No! You! Don't!"

 For the first time Varian was stunned into silence. He stood there, his eyes wide, as the one thing he wouldn't let himself consider was flung into his face.

 Tadashi took the opportunity.

 "You may know more about the rocks, and Corona. You may even be the world's leading expert in quantum physics and portal technology. But you don't seem to understand risks or consequences."

 Varian gave Tadashi a long, hard glare.

 "Just because you regret running into that fire doesn't mean I'm making a mistake."

 That gave Tadashi pause.

 "Come on guys.... you weren't supposed to start another argument." Hiro pleaded.

 He was ignored.

 "So you don't think leaving everyone behind is a mistake?"

 "I'm not leaving anyone behind. Nothing bad is going to happ-"

 "You said it was dangerous."

 "Yes... it is, b-but... I know what those dangers are. I grew up with them. I know how to handle them; you don't! I'm not rushing in, Tadashi! I'm just going home, and then I'm coming right back."

 "How are you going to handle them then?"

 "What?"

 "These dangers, you're talking about. What's your plan for handling them?"

 "Well.. ummm... avoid them... mostly. If-if I can."

 "And if you can't? What's your plan if they come after you Varian? What happens if that Rapunzel woman shows up?"

 "I'll fight them." He growled.

 "By yourself?" Tadashi questioned, clearly skeptical.

 "I've done it before." Varian said, coolly.

 "Isn't she a princess though? Doesn't she have like a whole army she could send after you if she wants?"

 Varian didn't reply.

 "You think you can take on an entire army by yourself?" Tadashi pressed.

 Varian still didn't answer.

 "Let us help you."

 "No."

 "We can fight too."

 "No. There won't be any fight. I won't be there long enough for there to be any fighting."

 "Then what does it hurt if we come along?"

 Varian avoided his brothers' judgemental gaze, as he tried to think of an excuse.

 He didn't have one... well not one that would be acceptable to them.

 Tadashi studied him intently before finally asking... "Tell me, is this really about protecting anybody?"

 "What's that supposed to mean?"

 "You're hiding something."

 Varian frowned at that, but he didn't deny it.

 "You're hiding something from us," Tadashi pressed, "and you're afraid that if we come with you, we'll find out what it is."

 "So what if I am…" his voice shook. "What does it matter? It's nothing to do with you anyways."

 Tadashi gave him the most judgemental look.

 "You talk a lot about trust, for someone who never gives it."

 Varian's mouth worked furiously, as he tried and failed to voice his indignation.

 "I… wha..  you… what do you mean I don't trust you!?" He finally sputtered. "I trust you, I trust all of you, with my life! I've trusted you with more of my past than anyone… Why isn't that enough?"

 "I don't know Varian? Why aren't      we     enough?"

 Varian blinked, confused.

 Tadashi sighed, and rubbed his eyes with his still good hand.

 "You have a home here… People that care about you… I know how much your dad means to you, and I want him to be safe too, believe me… but… …. It's like you're obsessed with this idea that you have to do it all on your own. That you alone have to be the one to fix everything. Like you have to be the one to solve everyone else's problems on top of your own. But you don't… or at least you wouldn't have to if you'd just let us help you."

 Varian turned away at that. He stared fixedly at the opposite wall, as if the fake paper-mache stones were the most important things in the world.

 Tadashi only shrugged his shoulders. "Look, I don't know where else to go from here. It's like we're just running in circles. I accept your apology. I'm glad you're working on things, and I promise not go through your stuff anymore. Now, I'm heading out to meet with the others, cause I'm hungry, and I'm sure we can pick this argument back up later."

 He turned to open the door, and paused.

 "You coming, Hiro?"

 Hiro didn't know what to do. This hadn't gone the way he had planned. He looked back to Varian first and then back to Tadashi. How could he get his brothers to reconcile?

 "It's my responsibility." Varian's voice broke though his indecision, and both Hiro and Tadashi turned to look at him.

 "You want to know why I have to do this on my own? It's because it's my responsibility and no one else's."

 Tadashi let go of the door handle. "Are you talking about the rocks or your dad?"

 "Both." He said as he finally faced him. "The rocks, Dad, my village… they're all my responsibility. Not yours, not Hiro's, not any of our friends… and I won't shoulder my burden onto others."

 "Okay, first off, it's not as much of a burden if you're sharing it with others, and second off, you're not forcing your problems onto us, we're offering to help."

 "B-but it's my mess."

 "And you're our brother."

 ….

 "Tadashi's right." Hiro agreed. "You're family, and family sticks together, and saving your dad is as every bit as important to us as it is for you. We're not going to just give up."

 "... I can't lose anyone else." He whispered.

 "Neither can we." Tadashi said. "We know what it's like to lose someone."

 "And what's it like to fight to get them back," Hiro added.

 "But you weren't the one that started the fire." Varian told them. "And you weren't the one driving that truck that crashed into you."

 Hiro and Tadashi stood there, momentarily stunned.

 "Wha… what's supposed to mean-"

 Tadashi interrupted Hiro by laying a hand on his shoulder.

 "Y-you think you're actually 'responsible' for what happened to your Dad… to your entire village?" He questioned.

 Varian backpedaled away. "No… I… I just meant… Oh go- Please can we drop this topic? I'm sorry for losing my temper… let's just leave things there like you said… j-just don't mess with the amber… or even mention it… or-"

 His rambling was cut short as Tadashi wrapped him in a tight hug.

 "Hey… It's not your fault."

 Varian broke down completely at those words. Oh how he wished they were true!

 Instead of explaining this though, he just returned the hug and cried harder.

 He felt Hiro join them, making it a brotherly group hug. Varian only cried all the more.

 "There, there."

 The only thing that gave Varian pause in his tears, was Baymax suddenly patting him on the head. He look to the marshmallowly robot in surprise, before softly laughing at the absurdity of the situation.

 "Thank you Baymax." He sniffled.

 Hiro hastily wiped his own eyes, "Hey Baymax, weren't you supposed to keep a lookout?"

 "I was, but then the security guard has asked for us to vacate the area "

 The robot turned to the side and the three teens saw a woman dressed in a khaki uniform impatiently tapping her feet while glaring at them.

 "Ummm… I think we better go join Sam and the others in the dining hall now." Tadashi said.

 He didn't get any argument this time.

                                                 -------------------

 "Hmmm...'

 The dean of the school peered over her glasses at the paper in her hand, as she clicked her red ink pen in thought.

 Her two nervous students stood opposite her desk, holding their breaths as she made her decision.

 "Passable."

 She finally said and both boys sighed with relief.

 "It's not the most eloquent of essays I've ever read, but the science is sound. I'll be submitting this to be peer-reviewed as soon as possible."

 She stood up and opened the door to her office. "You're free to go. I hope both you boys enjoy your winter break."

 "Thanks Miss Granville." Hiro said as he and Varian left. "We're just going to clean out our labs and go."

 "Yeah, thanks for everything," Varian echoed, " and I'm sorry about losing my cool back there the other day."

 "It's alright Mr. Quirinson... I understand that your career is not your biggest priority at the moment, and I can not truly say that you are wrong for that. But I am glad that you've decided to not give up wholly on the endeavor."

 Granville carefully said and laid a hand on Varian's shoulder. "I apologize if I pushed you too hard. It's just, you and your brothers have such amazing potential it's easy to get, well, carried away sometimes."

 "It's okay, Miss Granville."

 "Does this mean you'll go easier on us next semester?" Hiro cheekily asked.

 Granville broke out into boisterous laughter. "Very funny Mr. Hamada. Expect your most challenging semester yet this spring."

 Both boys side eyed each other but didn't say anything as the professor ushered them out into the hall.

 "I have to finish grading papers today, so I'll be here till six if you need me. You boys go on and finish cleaning up, oh and Happy Holidays!"

 She gave them one of her rare smiles as she bid them farewell.

                                                 -------------------

 "Is this the last box?" Varian asked as Honey Lemon placed a third cardboard container full of files on top of the other two boxes he was carrying.

 "Almost." Wasabi said, placing a fourth box on top. Thankfully this one was much smaller.

 Varian pressed his lips tight in annoyance but didn't complain. He was the strongest member of the team, besides Baymax, and so he'd been entrusted to carry most of the boxes out of the lab. It was only logical, but it didn't prevent him from eyeing Gogo with envy as she toted a single bag of papers under her arm.

 "Shall we put this in your car, or Varian's?" Tadashi asked as he lugged two boxes of his own.

 "Mine." Wasabi answered as he pulled his keys out of his pocket. "Here let me come with you to unlock the trunk."

                                                 -------------------

 As the gang of college students made their trek to the parking lot carrying their assortment of equipment, textbooks, and project files, Varian spotted a figure standing on the green of the quad watching them.

 She was dressed all in black.

 "Salma." Varian breathed.

 He quickly handed off his packages to Baymax to load in the car.

 "I'll catch up with you in a minute." He promised his friends as he ran over to meet the girl.

 Salma waited for him to approach, nervously wringing her hands.

 "Hey." He greeted with a nervous smile.  

 "Hey." She softly replied.

 There was a pause as they both searched for the next thing to say.

 "I'm... I'm sorry for what happened. I shouldn't broken in like that." Varian finally admitted.

 "No, you really shouldn't have."

 Her voice was perhaps sharper then she intended but Varian internally flinched anyways.

 Slama sighed deeply. "But, I can't stay mad at you. Not after everything else."

 Hope filled Varian anew.

 "So, h-how's your brother?"

 "Better."

 "That's good."

 "In fact, he's already talking about returning to duty soon."

 "Ahhh... I see" Varian nodded as he realized what that entailed.

 "I don't want him to go."

 "I can understand that."

 "But he says that we can't just give up on our home."

 "I can also understand that." Varian said knowingly.

 "I know we agreed on no questions but... what made you quit? Maybe you know of a way to reach him."

 Varian shook his head. "I can't convince him of anything. You know that."

 Salma nodded and lowered her eyes, tears threatening to spill from them.

 Varian fought against the gnawing guilt in the pit of his stomach.

 "Listen, I'm really not the person to ask advice on this, be-because the truth is, I haven't quit. I'm trying to go back home too. It's just difficult getting there."

 Salma looked up at him with justifiable horror.

 "You're going back to fight?"

 "No... no. I'm done fighting. I'm going back to save my father. He's still trapped there."

 Salma pouted, but didn't press the matter. Her eyes swept past Varian back towards the parking lot. Amir was leaning against a white truck with a trailer attached to the back. It was loaded up with furniture.

 "Are y-you taking a trip?" Varian asked.

 "We're going to our aunt's in New York."

 "With all your stuff? I mean it's a nice couch but-"

 "I put in a transfer to NYCU."

 "Oh..."

 Another awkward pause followed as the enormity of those words sunk in.

 Salma once again avoided his gaze as she fiddled with her hands.

 "I thought about what you said," she slowly continued. "About needing to be with people… So I talked to the counselor at school and they said it would be possible for me to keep my scholarship. I also talked to Dr. Brown and he recommended a therapist in New York that he trusts… And the rest of our family is flying in for the winter break. I at the very least got Amir to promise not to do anything, well, rash until he met with the rest of the family."

 "S-sounds like you pretty much have everything in order."

 Varian fought back the lump in his throat as Salma looked at him sadly.

 "Can… can I call you when you get there?"

 Salma pursed her lips and Varian already knew the answer before she ever said it.

 "I… I don't think that would be for the best."

 Varian's breath hitched. "Al..alright… text then? You'll let me know that you made it there safe, at least."

 "Varian…" she sighed and he thought he might cry then and there.

 "You're still mad at me then. "

 "No… I just think it's better to say goodbye now… so that it's not harder to do later."

 He didn't know how she remained so calm about it. He couldn't refute her reasoning, and technically she had already dumped him, but this still hurt.

 But if she wasn't going to shed any tears then neither would he, not in front of her at least.

 He sucked in his breath and squared his shoulders, and without knowing what else to do, he offered her a handshake.

 "Then...Goodbye."

 She took his hand in both her own, and held it there tenderly, and Varian couldn't help but regret what could have been between them.

 "Goodbye…. And thank you." The tiniest crack in her voice at the end, was the only indication that she was hurting just as much as he was. But she soon covered it with a warm small smile, before walking away.

 Varian watched her meet her brother, now waiting in the truck. She turned to give him one last look as she opened the car door. He vainly waved at her before she entered the vehicle, and they drove away.

                                                 -------------------

 Varian made sure his eyes were dry before entering the lab. He opened the door, and found most of the stuff already cleared out.

 Only Honey Lemon was left, as she packed away one last small box.

 "Is that everything?" He asked.

 "I think so."

 She sat the box down on a table and then turned to pick up her purse and a three ring binder.

 "Ok, I'm ready to g-" She paused and suddenly looked at Varian with concern. "Is everything alright, querido?"

 Varian blinked in surprise.

 He hadn't planned on telling his friends about his recent break up, but somehow Honey Lemon could just sense his heartbreak.

 "I… I was saying goodbye to Salma." He shrugged and went to pick up the other box.

 "Oh? Where is she going?"

 "She's moving to New York." He said this calmly, but he avoided eye contact as he carefully taped the box securely.

 He felt Honey Lemon rest a hand upon his shoulder.

 "Oh, I'm sorry querdio."

 He shrugged this off as well. "Don't be. She's going there to live with her aunt. She'll be with her family. It.. it's for the best."

 "Well it's good that she'll be closer to her family, and maybe you can't still talk on the phone or text, or even face-"

 "We broke up."

 "Oh." She frowned, unsure how to spin this new revelation into a positive thing.

 "It's okay though… I mean, she's right, it's too difficult trying to keep up a long distance relationship, and it's probably for the best to end things now before it gets any harder."

 "Probably… … …It still hurts though."

 "Yeah." Varian sighed in defeat.

 Once again Honey Lemon reached out to him, and this time he didn't remove her hand from his shoulder.

 "I know what it's like to end a relationship because of distance. Break ups just… well, they just suck."

 Varian had to stifle a laugh at Honey Lemon's rarely seen negativity.

 "Now there's an understatement."

 All she could do was shrug in defeat. "Okay, yeah, I know. But… but it does get better. I promise."

 Varian allowed himself to sadly smile at that. "I know it will… it's just what do you do in the meantime?"

 Now it was Honey Lemon's turn to sigh as she leaned on the table.

 "I guess, just stay busy. Hang out with friends. Focus on school…"

 "And maybe try again later?"

 "Well… yeah… there's that too."

 "Do you still miss him?"

 "Andre?" Honey Lemon pouted in thought, and then shook her head. "No, I guess not. I think… I think I just miss that feeling though. You know, that feeling you get when you're dating and they make you feel like you're the most special person in the world."

 "You      are     special though."

 Honey Lemon did a double take at this. Varian was staring at her intensely and his voice was forceful. Like he was offended that she had ever dared to suggest that she wasn't magnificent.

 "Well that's very sweet of you to say, querdio, bu-"

 "But I'm not just saying it. It's the truth. You don't need Andre, or anyone else, to make you feel special, because you      are     special. Wonderful even!"

 Honey Lemon didn't know what to do with this statement. On the one hand it was nice to hear such a compliment, but on the other hand, the earnestness with which it was said, like it was some fundamental unrefuted fact, knocked her for a loop.

 "Oookaaay… thank you?"

 Varian paused as if he realized he had said the wrong thing.

 He hastily picked up the box.

 "You said this was the last one?"

 Without waiting for an answer he turned to leave, but stopped when he felt Honey Lemon's hand on his arm.

 "You're pretty special too, you know."

 Varian's heart soared at these words.

 "Y-yeah?"

 "Yeah." She blushed, and timidly held out her hand.

 Varian smiled and took it, shifting the weight of the box under his other arm.

 They walked out the lab together, hand in hand.

[darksaiyangoku]

RWBY x DMC: Protective Nephew

Yang walked the down halls of Beacon Academy with a big smile on her face. Several of the students waved af her, including 3 second year students; Colton Winchester, Aaron Zest and Fred Yún.

Yang: I hope you boys are ready for Combat Class later today. I'm counting on you representing Vale for the Vytal Festival.

Colton: You've got nothing to worry about, Mrs Ren. We'll give it our all!

Aaron/Fred: Yeah!

Yang: Now that's what I like to hear! *smiles* I'll see you and your teams soon. Right now, I got papers to grade. So long!

Colton: See you later, Mrs Ren. *smirks*

Aaron: Aw man, did you see her ass just now?

Fred: I know, right? What about those tits? Absolutely gorgeous!

Colton: Oh what I wouldn't give to have my own, private combat lesson with her. Pinning her down to the ground and- gah!

Before Colton could finish, he was slammed into a wall. He looked up to find a younger student glaring angrily at him. Blonde hair and silver eyes, it was Vergil Rose-Arc.

Vergil: You make one more comment about my aunt and I'll carve you up like a Thanksgiving turkey.

Colton: Hehe... y-you're bluffing.

Vergil: *draws Tsukiyomi and slashes the wall*

Colton: *squeals*

Vergil: Do we understand each other?

Colton: ...Y-Yes, sir. C-Come on guys, we better get going.

All 3 boys ran off screaming at the top of their lungs. Vergil sheathed his sword and smirked proudly.

Ren: I must say that was quite a show. I'm sure these boys won't bother Mrs Ren again.

Vergil: No sir. *laughs*

Ren: But you do have 2 weeks of detention.

Vergil; *turns around* W-What?! Why?!

Ren: *points to wall* For damaging school property.

Vergil: ...fuck.

Ren: Make that 3 weeks.

[spacerockwriting]

The Gallavich Disney Saga

Not done, but here are some Disney World bits from part 3 of my fic Soft Bitch. Thank you to all my lovelies who helped with the ideas. Almost every bit was used, or will be used. :)

Some notes: Franny goes by Finn. Idk what the fuck happened to Lip and Tami's other kid. Carl is chaos.

--

It takes a quick minute, but with Finn’s hair tied back into the usual ponytail, she beams, putting on a matching Hawaiian shirt, just like Mickey’s.

Ian comes out of the shower, q-tip in his ear. “God, there’s two of them.” He’s joking, but it still makes him laugh. Finn had insisted on wearing a matching one with Mickey, and Ian swears if she were to ever dye her hair black, she’d be a mini-Mick. Not so much in looks, but in personality.

“We’re here to wreck things up,” Finn says, grinning. She knows not to swear around the twins, especially with Ally being pretty repetitive. Around Ian and Mickey, she’s allowed, but not as much as they do.

--

Carl comes back from the bathrooms, staring straight at Finn and Mickey. “Shit,” he says, turning to Ian. “Aren’t gays supposed to be good at fashion and shit?”

Lip snorts, hiding his smirk.

“That’s a stereotype, Asshole,” Mickey snips. “Like cops supposedly being smart.”

--

“My waffles,” Finn says, rather dramatically. “You’re freaking them out by being gross.”

--

“Good job, Kid.”  He plops the hat on Ally’s head. He looks down at Monnie and over at Ian. “If I’m getting a hat, so are you.”

“We should get matching ones,” Ian tells Mickey.

Mickey snorts. “That’s the gayest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“C’mon, Mick.”

“None of that girly shit.”

“Okay.”

“I pick ‘em out.”

“Okay,” Ian agrees.

...

“So now I’ve got two of these hats,” Mickey says, scowling. “And a dumbass husband.”

“Look at the festive family!” Tami says, finding Ian and Mickey in the shop. “You’ve got matching ones? I’m trying to get Lip to just get one.”

“So you’re that couple now,” Lip deadpans.

“I like my husband.”

“I think they were always that couple,” Liam adds.

--

“Hey Little Man, you look cool.” He holds his fist out to Ally who just blinks in confusion. “Think I’m going to get Toy Story so I can tell people I got a woody and that there’s a snake in my boot.”

Liam puts that hat back. “That’s one childhood movie that has now been ruined. “

--

“Can we get Uncle Lip a princess hat?” Finn smirks.

“Hell yeah we can.” Tami smirks.

“Uncle Lip’s my favorite princess,” Finn says, grinning at Mickey.

--

Out of what felt like nowhere, Carl emerges with Liam. Liam shakes his head. “I think driving with Carl is a deathwish.”

“Shit,” Mickeys says, adjusting his hat. “I think Finn’s got a knack for runaway cars.”

Lip gets out of line and shakes his head. “Drive with Fred. Won’t go above what, two miles?”

“Okay,” Ian says. He’s smirking. “C’mon, Lip,” Ian says, dragging his brother’s hand. “We’re going to go on the teacups until we puke.”

“Ian, are you fucking serious?”

“You promised.”

“I—“ Lip then starts laughing. “That fucking promise I made when I was what, seven? Eight?”

“So you do remember.”

--

Ian does not throw up, but Lip almost does. Laughing, Ian gives his brother a light nudge. “Worth it.”

Lip’s eyes soften just a bit. “Okay, yeah. It wasn’t as shit as I thought.” But in reality, seeing his little brother laugh like that was something Lip hadn’t seen in what felt like years. It probably was years, looking back on everything. Back before girls, and boys, and when they were LipandIan. Lip stands up on his toes to kiss his brother’s forehead.

--

“I’m gonna sit with my husband, is that okay?” Ian asks, and Finn sighs.

“If you kiss, you’ll scare away everybody.”

--

“Ten outta ten, would bang Snow White,” Carl says, when they get out the cart.

-

That's all the previews for now!

[soliti]

SOLITI 2023: THE END OF YEAR LISTS

Aleksi Pahkala (Local Al, Gim Kordon, The Duplo!)

2023 was a good and busy year. I started finally to record Local Al’s debut album, still working on it, but hopefully soon we will get some new singles out to the world, my only release was Local Al’s version of Markus Krunegård’s Miss Joensuu, that was a great one of course!

What kept me busy was our own label All That Plazz and I also continued to book artists for Helsinki Festival etc. So lotsa good stuff! Also my Päivän Biisit blog and playlist was active as always.

Best summer song of all year 2023: Lala Salama – Summer Love

Most genius remix of 2023: Yeah Yeah Yeahs & Perfume Genius – Spitting Off The Edge of The World – Lush Version

Best feel easy song of 2023: Hög Sjö – Vem kan segla

Best folk song of 2023: Markus Krunegård – Jumalan terve

Best debut rock single of 2023: Kaksipäinen Koira – Kuolema voittaa aina

Biggest mainstream banger of 2023: Skrillex, Fred again… & Flowdan – Rumble

Best electronic feel good tune of 2023: henri – talk

Best feel good dance song of 2023: Knife Girl – Eat You Alive

Best punkrockin’ hit of 2023: moshimoshi – These Days

Best indierock hit of 2023: bar italia – my little tony

Bonus: Local Al Remix