#i haven't unwrapped presents in a christmas setting in years!!!

[sergeantjessi]

Thinking about the past few days and... This was the first christmas in years that I've felt... actually happy? whoat

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

I love how people are telling you to make your father a sword as if that's 1. An easy thing to do, 2. Feasible before Christmas, or 3. Cheap

Like, I know some hobbyist blacksmiths, and it takes them literally years sometimes to finish projects. At minimum, like, 3 months. It is November. Regardless, materials are not free, and that's not including the price of obtaining and setting up a forge.

Putting aside the fact your dad wouldn't appreciate it, why do people think this is a reasonable gift suggestion for you?

I am getting so many suggestions that make truly wild assumptions about me, my father, and our relationship, as well as my budget and connections in the blacksmithing community. Here's how Christmas is gonna go.

I will hand my dad and my stepmum a package containing a cheap sampler set of cocoa flavours and several inexpensive candles from Target. My stepmum will hand me a package containing probably some socks and whatever useful household products were on sale at the post office where she works (last year it was some unusually durable freezer bags with fun patterns on them) and probably a loose handful of chocolates or something. The card will say that it's from both of them but my father will never have seen these before because he never bothers with gift buying.

We will both unwrap our packages, thank each other, and pretend they were more thoughtful and individual than they actually were. Then we will dump them in the Big Boxes Of Random Chain Store Stuff that we've acquired from all of our presents so we can take them all home later and spend the next two weeks binging on cocoa samplers, loose handfuls of chocolates, and other random acquired consumables. For me this will be more chocolates from my aunt and uncle (possibly with a fun mug or similar household item, possibly without), a collection of calendars, journals and day planners from my cousin to go with the stockpile of stationary from her from the last few Christmases that I haven't gotten through yet, and a twenty dollar note in a card from my grandmother.

Then I will see my mother and stepfather and stepbrother for Christmas dinner, where we will exchange no gifts but I will very likely get to drink some of my brother's truly excellent vodka from his home brewery and my mum will serve a dessert that will cover my entire recommended sugar intake for 2025. And isn't that truly the best present of all.

[buckets-and-trees]

Imagine Bucky coming home to see you wearing nothing but a red ribbon tied in a bow around your waist and can’t help but stare at you while licking his lips. You stand there and say “are you just gonna stand there or are you going to unwrap your present?”

Well...

Would you complain if I added one more thing to this little ask, too?

And this was undoubtedly meant for Christmas, but... my Christmas tree is still up, so maybe other people still have their decorations out, as well...

Collection: The Brooklyn Boys Title: Big Red Bow Characters/Pairings: Bucky x female reader x Steve Word Count: 593

Content Warnings: Steve stays post-endgame, established threesome, periphery/secular reference to the Christmas holiday, nudity, kissing, light fingering

Logistical Notes: Probably fine to read if you haven't read any of the series, because this is legit just spicy fluffy stuf, literally no plot. We just haven't seen these boys in a LONG long time, and I thought this might be nice for them. Dividers from @firefly-graphics and @saradika-graphics.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You take a deep breath as you hear your boys come in the front door. Steve walks past the doorframe, heading down the hallway, his arms laden with bags from their supply run. Bucky, however, glances into the living room, then turns his head back and stops dead in his tracks. He sets his bag down and quietly straightens back up, stepping into the room, eyes riveted on you.

You had been waiting for them, for this, and yet your stomach still flips and your cheeks heat as you see the hungry look wash over him.

He licks his lips, but continues to stare, unmoving from his place in the doorframe.

Your heartbeat is racing, but you will yourself to remain still, kneeling next to the Christmas tree, in front of the fireplace, hands folded delicately in your lap, in nothing but a large red ribbon, painstakingly tied in a bow. You had tied it around your chest, below your breasts so that the large loops of the bow just covered your nipples.

"Did you hear me?" Steve calls back down the hallway to Bucky. "I asked if you know where the–"

"Steve, come here," Bucky cuts him off.

You hear Steve's steps coming back down the hallway. "What? What is - oh," his voice drops when he turns up behind Bucky and spots you waiting for them. "Oh," this time more of a groan, and his tone sends a shiver down your spine.

But when they don't move, you bite your lip and drop your eyes. "Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to unwrap your present?"

"It's past Christmas and New Years, honey," Bucky teases.

You huff. The last two weeks had been so busy, and you'd just thought when you saw the discarded bow from your nephew's bike that it might be fun to play with, but today had presented the first possible moment you finally had time for something like this. "Sorry, it's a little corny."

"Ow." Steve thumps Bucky from behind, and you start to move, but Bucky says, "Stop!" and you do, surprised by his abrupt command. "'I like corny. I'm looking for corny in my life.'"

Immediately comfortable again, you grin and giggle at the very apt quote from The Holiday, which you'd watched twice with them - once after Thanksgiving, and again a few days before Christmas.

They both swiftly approach you now. Steve gets to you first and kneels in front of you, leaning in to capture your lips in an kiss. Kneeling next to you, Bucky trails his fingers over your shoulder and down your arm. He presses his lips along your shoulder and back up to your neck, nudging his way in until Steve moves away, and Bucky steals the chance to claim your lips.

Bucky is quick to lay back on the floor, pulling you to lay on his his chest. You can hear Steve quickly undressing.

"Who says we need to unwrap you in order to play anyway?" Steve asks. Then he's settling in behind you, kneeling in the space between your and Bucky's legs, spreading them wider to accommodate him. He draws his hand down along your spine, over your lower back, and he lets a finger tease down between your cheeks.

You gasp, and Bucky chuckles. "Always so responsive for us, and so pretty like this."

"Mhmm," Steve agrees.

"But I can think of quite a few ways we can use this bow tonight," Bucky adds, grinning over your shoulder up at Steve.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[empthy1]

Best Friend - based on @diyasgarden's betting on loosing dogs cats and her cat headcanons. definitely go check them out if you haven't yet!!

the story of tashi and her childhood best friend (1.86k words)

tw: i have not seen the movie so all my knowledge is via osmosis. writing some of these scenes was cathartic. enjoy me working through my own grief and know my tears wet the keyboard. i may have forgotten about art a little bit but this is tashi centric so im just going to say whoops and move on

Tashi was a lonely child. It was just a fact. Even with siblings wrapped around her and hanging off her arms, she swept through her childhood with few permanent attachments.

She was vibrant, regardless of her seclusion. The bounce of her curls and the seemingly infinite energy she possessed endeared her to teachers and classmates. Bright, sparkling curiosity filled her eyes. The librarian saw the most of her, incidentally. With clumsy fingers and boosted toes, she tipped titles from higher and higher shelves, thicker and thicker books filling her arms and her Princess Aurora backpack.

After playdates, summer camps and schedules packed high with unfamiliar names, her parents finally acquiesced. There would be no friend for their daughter, not one she wanted.

Instead, that Christmas, she received two very special presents. An oddly shaped thing with one blunt, cylindrical end and, on the other side, a curved, flat plane; the other was a larger, rectangular box that mewled periodically, its princess wrapping paper massacred with pinholes. She anguishes when she sees a prick right over the left side of Aurora's shimmering pink dress.

Her parents initially direct her towards the oddly shaped gift, no matter how the mewling box draws her ears. Under the light of the rainbowed tree, the LEDs reflecting their colors over her full face, she unknowingly, and with youthful gusto, unwraps her future.

Her very own tennis racket. The gift included the promise of lessons, starting after her holiday break. She'd been curious about her parents' rackets, the handles much too big for her young, soft palms. Now, she can try it all on her own—emulating the fierce girls she revered on TV.

A whine from the larger box draws her attention again, and eyes shining with anticipation turn to her parents. A single nod, and little legs are scampering across the hardwood as she runs to delicately peel off the paper.

The cardboard box under it is as pricked as the wrapping paper, the top untaped. Reaching past the unassuming packaging, she's jolted when something touches her. Soft, with points as pokey as the needle that made the holes. She's nothing if not fearless, however.

As the cardboard flaps are peeled back one by one, the thing, no, paw that reached out to grab her tugs on the last one. It's small, orange, with tiny claws puncturing shallowly. Her fingers, larger and without as sharp nails, gently pries it off so she can finally open the box.

A kitten. A kitten sits, dwarfed by the size of the box. When she reaches for it, it retreats—sniffing her fingers before deciding her a worthy companion. It's all but eager now, pressing into her hands until she picks it up and cradles it to her chest. Its teensy chest starts to rumble with a crackly purr.

"She's yours." Startles her out of her revere, so absorbed in the little body against hers. Her mother's words are said with a smile. She finally found a friend, one that didn't live in pages. "All yours."

Her father chimes in not long after.

"What's her name, Natasha?"

A pause. Tashi blinks, contemplation in the set of her pout and in the subtle furrow in her brow. Her eyes don't stray from the yellows of her newest companion.

"Serena," comes, the resolve in her tone sounding odd in the heightened pitch of a six-year-old.

She'd grow into it.

She'd soon learned her two favorite sounds: the thwack of a tennis ball and the thundering of Serena's purr.

They were familiar, and borderline ordinary. She heard the first over and over, for hours at a time, multiple times a week. Serena's purr, in the same vein, was the thing that greeted her with the sun and lulled her into sleep. Yet, she thought them spectacular. Whenever they reached her ears, that golden smile appeared.

She was always good. Always spectacular at tennis. Sweeping through matches flooded her veins with sweet adrenaline, sweat that dropped to the court marking her path to the stars. Even when she'd left them all behind, flown far away and was weightless in her tennis shoes, it'd say: I, Tashi Duncan, was here. I won.

The thing that brought her back to Earth was simple. Even with the lure of the stars, the rumbling, crackling purr and sweet meows, like the quake she experienced at eleven and the cracking boom of thunder she'd once feared, grounded her in her emotions. Her feelings, not for boys but for Serena overflowed from her heart and spilled out like a split dam, widening her smiles and filling her mind, motivating her game and keeping her present.

At seventeen she was up-and-coming. Her birthday fell a few days after the US Open, so on her last few days as a child, she bundled up with her familiar friend and boarded the metal plane. It would be her wings, giving her that taste of future freedom, of the sky she reached for.

Her transcendence faded in sleep, leaving just a girl and her cat, sleepy and covered in shed hair and so, so young.

She won. She won the Junior Open.

Everything's set in stone now. She can see her future playing out—at Stanford, tearing through the competition and tearing through the pages of novels (she never quite lost her love for words; instead it evolved from Junie B. Jones to Mary Shelley.) Then, she'd go pro, breaking out into the Grand Slams like a comet blazing by.

Art and Patrick were the unexpected twist.

Zweig and Donaldson. Fire and Ice. The perfect duo. One would be joining her at Stanford. The other? Leaving for the intense performance of the pros with her number stashed in his mobile—left sweating under the stage lights of expectations states away.

Whether he'd buckle under the intensity was to be seen. At least his green crash pad was well in place, waiting to be fallen back on.

Practice was routine.

Art was routine.

Serena was at home, with her parents.

The separation was killing her. Some days, especially hearing the thwack of the ball, she felt the ache of her halved heart. She knew she wouldn't go home to her second (first) favorite sound.

Red. There's a lot of red at Stanford, Tashi noticed. Even in her dorm room, the banner on her wall and poster above her bed, the jacket strewn over her chair and the sweaty shorts discarded on her floor. The red apples of Patrick's cheeks and the pinkening to his lips. She let her eyes close and welcomed their press and the darkness behind her eyelids.

They were good. They were fine. He was fine. Then they weren't.

Tashi always knew her heart was fragmented. Tennis, Serena, Patrick. Each one beat independent, for the most part. When they synced was euphoric.

One of her best memories was during her spring break. Patrick had a break before his next tournament, and they packed up in his dingy car to putter back to her parents'. Spending the week there, lounging like house cats, lobbing lazy forehands back and forth and falling asleep every night to Serena's crackling purr and Patrick's heavy arm over her.

It was the most alive she'd every felt.

The game. The game was all that mattered. Not Patrick flaking. Not the absence of her friend. Just the game. That was the piece of her heart still intact.

Then her knee pops sickeningly, releasing out from under her and all she could see was red.

Stanford fans in the stands and her opponent's flushed cheeks, Art's crimson shirt and the pain red-hot behind her eyelids.

The darkness when her eyes shut was a comfort once again. It hides the sight of her swelling, purpling knee. It doesn't stop the pain.

Maybe she'd slip into a blessed unconsciousness.

100 years, Maleficent proclaimed. The princess shall sleep.

She'd never play tennis again, that much was clear. The doctor been almost certain.

Art tried to make her feel better. All she could think of was a familiar rumble she ached for.

She was released to spend a few weeks at her parents, away from the worry of school and her emotional turmoil. A few weeks with Serena, to get back to their routine, to the purrs on her chest and the weaving beneath her feet.

Serena was a bit more careful staying underfoot after her first smell of her braced knee and the sight of her white crutches.

Maybe she'd log her as an emotional support pet, just so she wouldn't loose her whole heart when she went back.

She didn't get that far. She didn't even have the time to get the paper.

Serena fell from Tashi's bed and broke her pelvis a week in. The howl she made was a new noise. One she never should have made.

They spent the whole day at the emergency vet. Tashi's eyes had never been so red-rimmed. She cried, in that sterile waiting room, as they took Serena back and cooed sadly.

She fell into an exhausted sleep, buried in her mother's side with her lip still caught between her teeth.

The doctor's thought the break was suspicious. Cats are usually springier, the vet had said. Even the older ones, like her. She was kind, and caring. Her green scrubs, pattered with paw prints, slowly became orange with Serena's fur. Her hands were warm when they handed her the lab papers.

Bone cancer, the plain black text said, in it's painfully ordinary font. The type that, apparently, had crept through Serena's body and made itself a home in her lungs. It burrowed, unwanted, in the place that held her life. It infected the space right above her heart. Waiting longer, says the vet, would be cruel.

She didn't even look at the amount of tumors they found. Once she saw the double digits she shattered, just that bit more.

The vet gave her time to say her goodbyes. It was all they really could do.

Thirteen years. Thirteen years they'd grown together.

Serena was once bundled in too-big cardboard, clawing energetically at the walls and sinking pinprick claws into her shirt.

Now, she's swaddled in a soft blanket, looking fat and warm but so, so tired.

Tashi holds her on her aching knee and weeps. She presses warm lips press to the forehead of her first friend, her favorite thing. Slender arms cradle this beautiful baby cat to her chest. Serena is sedated, a little medicine for the pain. Her purr's crackling now, muted and rattling. A soft, small paw presses to Tashi's tear-streaked, tawny cheek.

It's time to go, she hears faintly. It feels like she has her head underwater. Her throat and lungs and fingers squeeze as the needle slides in, past fluffed, orange fur. Serena doesn't even flinch. Yet, Tashi feels like she's drowning.

Her form (little, so little. Her baby—) goes limp in her lap.

How's she supposed to survive with no heart?

The next morning arrives with silence. Not even the chirping of the birds.

She curls tight in a too-empty bed and feels her heart wither in her chest.

[clickerflight]

Kane and Jim - The Final Apology

This is a fanbit that I haven't been able to kick out of my head for months now, so I suppose it must be written. Takes place in @whumpsday 's series about Kane and Jim, a fair amount of years after Jim got Kane from the hunters. It's a little flowery, but everyone deserves to have a bit of flowery writing now and again. (despite the title sounding so final, no one dies XD)

.............................................

Time is a great healer. It was a cliche almost as annoying as a little sister trying to ‘borrow’ your newly unwrapped presents at Christmas, but it was fairly true. There would always be scars, but the wounds would heal. It was slow enough that you probably wouldn’t even notice, until one day you realized they didn’t really hurt anymore only because you could remember how debilitating the pain had once been. 

The evening was warm, and after taking a nap that afternoon to get away from the summer heat, Jim wasn’t ready for bed yet. Instead, he took a stroll out in the garden and then sat down at the patio table, listening to the sounds of the soft wind in the trees and the frogs out in the creek. 

He could hear Kane moving around in the house before coming out, his eyes glinting slightly in the dark as he set a drink down by Jim on the table. 

“Thanks,” Jim murmured as Kane sat down in the other chair. 

“No problem,” Kane replied, leaning back and looking up at the stars. 

Time was a great healer. Jim was no longer so paranoid going outside at night (probably helped by Kane not being out to get him and even protecting him on occasion), the silver door had been removed from Kane’s basement room, and the two were often found outside in the evenings. Jim couldn’t remember the last time he or Kane had accidentally given each other a panic attack. Those days of fear and uncertainty felt like so long ago. 

He was not subservient to Kane, but Kane was no longer timid either, nor did he see Jim as some merciful deity. They were equals. They were equals and just that fact by itself was more satisfying than Jim could have ever imagined. 

As this was an evening for reflecting, it seemed, Kane was thinking along similar lines. He thought back to all of the fear that he’d put Jim through, and all of the torture he himself had been forced to undergo. It had always haunted and plagued him, invading his thoughts as if people were whispering to him every day, telling him that he deserved it or that he would never be worthy. Voices he remembered from captivity.

However, time was a great healer. But it wasn’t the only healer. He was ready. It had taken him years, more than a decade to get to this point, but he was willing to take that last step. Forgiveness had already taken place between the two of them, but forgiving yourself was harder. And the most difficult part was letting it all go. 

“Jim.”

“Yeah?”

Kane turned, able to see his friend clearly in the darkness. “I am truly sorry.”

There was a moment of confusion, and then Jim opened his mouth to brush the apology off as he had done hundreds of times before, but he quickly stopped himself. He could sense the power in the phrase, more meaning behind it than he had even heard on the first day he’d had Kane. Instead of the assurances he offered so many times when that phrase came up, he replied, “I know. Thank you.”

Kane took a deep breath and let it out slowly, along with all the tension in his mind and body, forcing himself to fully and truly let everything go. He wasn’t ever going to fall to old habits, he wasn’t going to harm another person for his own gain, he wasn’t ever going back, so there was no need to keep it all fresh in his mind, as though he needed a reminder to keep from going backwards. He didn’t need it anymore, so he let it go. 

Jim picked up his drink, almost a bit dazed. It was the final apology. It was the true apology. A much younger Jim had daydreamed about killing Kane and making him understand what he had done had been so viscerally awful, that he needed to give his soul to make it up to Jim. He’d wanted to wring that apology from a cold, nearly dead throat, but he’d always known he would never get the apology that way. After seeing Kane after picking him up from the hunters, he had assumed he would never receive that dream apology, but here it was years later given to him with the sounds of frogs and wind. 

Time is the great healer, but it is up to each person to finally let the memory of the injury go and not only be healed, but to be free.

[baycitystygian]

WE ARE SO BACK BABEEEEEEEEEEEYYYYYYY

also my apologies but I literally don't know jack about Robert's personality so I am so so so sorry but I didn't write much of him in here 😭he's there I promise he's just enjoying the vibes..... @fancycolours I tried 😅

"Excuse me for a moment," Paul bashfully interjected, exiting the living room. I smiled to myself- it was go time. Lexie and Robert shared a knowing glance as I turned my attention back to the kids, who were busy coloring.

"Riley, did you make the nice list this year?," I began with a smirk.

"Yes!," she proudly exclaimed.

"Jody, Melissa, how about you? Were you good this year?," Lexie asked.

"Jody's on the naughty list," Melissa immediately replied.

"Missy!" I stifled a laugh. "You and your sister were both very good. I'm sure you're both on the nice list, unless you keep throwing Jojo under the bus like that."

In the garage, Paul was busy changing into his Santa Claus getup as quickly as possible. He scurried out of the garage and around to the front door, then rang the doorbell.

"I wonder who's at the door!," I exclaimed, rushing to open it and feigning surprise when I revealed my husband, the makeshift Santa.

The girls screamed with joy, mobbing Paul before he could take a step inside.

"Santa, when did you start using the front door? I thought you always took the chimney!," I teased.

"One too many cookies... Santa doesn't fit down chimneys anymore," he chuckled, putting on a bellowing, jolly voice that made me giggle. "Excuse me, beautiful lady, but I have some presents to give out to some very good little girls!"

He hurried inside and made himself comfy on the recliner, setting his sack of presents down next to him.

"Now let's see here..." He pulled out a piece of paper from his coat pocket, which had NICE LIST in big bold letters across the top. "Is there a Riley Lamm here?"

"Meeeeee!" Riley rushed over and climbed onto Paul's lap.

"Riley, my elves told me that you wanted a Barbie doll for Christmas, is that right?"

"Yes!" She nodded eagerly.

"I heard a rumor that you might be getting some from your parents, so I got you a little something for your Barbies to live in..."

He pulled out a large wrapped present from the sack, and Riley tore into it in a frenzy.

"A Barbie dream house! Thank you, Santa!"

She gave him a hug, squeezing him so tightly that he made eye contact with me and mouthed "Help!"

"Who's next on your list, Santa?," I interjected.

Riley climbed off of his lap and busied herself with opening her new toy, which Lexie and Robert helped her with.

"I've got Melissa Williams, is Missy here?"

Melissa launched herself onto his lap, none the wiser that she'd snuggled up on that same lap almost every day of her life.

"You can't fit a pony in that bag, Santa," she began.

"Mom and Dad told me you aren't ready for a pony, so we compromised," he responded, amused by her chutzpah. He pulled out another big box, and she unwrapped it just as quickly as Riley had opened her gift. It was, to a child, a huge toy pony.

"Thank you Santa!" She hugged Paul and hopped off of his lap. Jody climbed onto Paul's lap before he could get back to his list.

"And you must be Miss Jody!" He hugged his baby girl, who nodded bashfully. "Help an old man out here... what did you want for Christmas again?"

She shyly shook her head and buried her face into his red, fuzzy jacket.

"Mommy, do you remember what she wanted?"

"I'm sure your elves did, Santa- they haven't missed yet!," I responded.

"Let's see what I brought for you!"

He pulled out an oddly shaped package, and Jody carefully pulled the wrapping paper apart, revealing a stuffed dog that was almost as big as she was tall.

"A doggy!" Our toddler squealed and hugged the stuffed animal, and Paul kissed the top of her head.

"Merry Christmas, girls!," he proudly announced. I scooped up Jody (and her new toy) so that he could stand up. "I have to go finish delivering presents to all the other good boys and girls out there. Now remember... I want you all to make the nice list next year, too!"

"Goodbye, Santa!," Lexie grinned, waving to him.

"Say goodbye, Jojo!," I whispered to Jody, who was still feeling bashful.

Paul closed the front door behind him, scurried back to the garage, and stripped himself of his Santa gear, hurrying to rejoin the party back in the living room.

"What'd I miss?," he innocently began, tousling his hair back into place.

"Only the biggest night of the whole year!" I kissed him and handed Jody over to him. "Santa came over, and wouldn't you know it, he wears aviator glasses, too!"

"Did you get that from Santa, Jo?"

She nodded and hugged him, burying her head into his chest.

"You must've been extra nice this year!"

"No, she was a stinker!," Melissa screeched.

"Maybe so, but she learned how to be a stinker from you," I retorted.

I can imagine us and our hubbies celebrating Christmas together!

should I write a fic about it

(translation: I need to write something fun and sweet and happy and low stakes so fucking bad oh my god I think I can actually fucking do this)

[gertrudepetronella-blog]

The Christmas Present

I haven't had much time to write this week, but here's a silly little holiday Snupin for you guys 🖤 Wishing all my followers a very merry midwinter in whatever way you celebrate 🖤

Summary: Remus gets a little over enthusiastic with his present wrapping.

Warnings: None. Mild innuendo. Lots of fluff.

Pairing: Severus x Remus

A/N: This is set post war. Sev and Remus both live and are married with a baby. No Teddy. Everything else canon compliant.

‘Where’s the baby?’

‘Hmm?’ Remus glances up at his frowning husband. He had just finished wrapping and arranging the vast heap of presents under the tree, and was admiring his handiwork feeling very pleased with himself.

‘Why she’s right here Severus.’ Remus pats the floor behind him, then frowns and twists around. Artemisia had fallen asleep right after her bottle, which had given Remus the opportunity to finish wrapping the presents. Most could be done with a charm, but the more oddly shaped things were best wrapped by hand. Feeling quite overwhelmed by the task ahead, and perhaps a little mushy over their baby, therefore wishing to keep her close, Remus had lain her down in a nearby empty box while he got on with his task… Oh.

‘Oh dear.’ Remus murmurs, glancing up at Severus, then over at the mountain of presents. Severus was not really the Christmassy type – to put it mildly. He suffered through the festivities in his usual scowling, put upon, grump (which Remus found really quite adorable); rolling his eyes at the decorations, and sighing at their guests. But this was going to make him really mad. As well it should, Remus had to admit.

‘Well, it appears Severus, that I may have, er… wrapped up our baby.’

The ensuing silence stretches out as Severus glares at him in a mixture of anger, panic, and perhaps just slightly affectionate disdain.

‘You wrapped up our baby?’ He grits out. ‘Of all the idiotic…’

‘I’m sure she’s fine.’ Remus cuts him off. ‘It was just a cardboard box. And thin wrapping paper. I’m sure there’s enough air…’ He trails off feeling a little worried himself now. Oh Merlin, what if he’s suffocated their baby?! He always knew he’d make a terrible father.

‘Which box is she in?’ Severus cuts off his thoughts, moving past him to begin carefully moving the parcels.

‘I… I don’t know…’ Remus murmurs shakily. ‘A big one.’

‘Really.’ Severus drawls, looking at him like he’s the biggest imbecile to have ever walked the earth.

They both look back at the huge pile of presents. It was rather excessive, Remus has to admit. Severus of course hated having anyone over for Christmas (or any other day of the year frankly), but Remus eventually persuaded him that they should invite Harry because Remus was basically his godfather now, and Harry had been instrumental in clearing Severus’ name after the war.

Of course they couldn’t invite Harry without Ginny, and from there the infection had spread to the rest of the Weasley family and their extended accoutrements. Sometimes Severus joked that he must have died after all, and gone to hell to be tormented by hoards of jolly Weasleys for the rest of time. He tended to spend most of the day cooking – and fighting over said cooking with Molly. Remus always shooed the guests out by 6pm though, before Severus had a complete meltdown. Then he would spend the rest of the night showing his husband exactly how grateful he was for putting up with his shenanigans.

This year however, they had one more family member to join the festivities. If they could find her.

Ten minutes, and several unwrapped present later, they open the flap of a box which had been wrapped in Christmas tree print paper and tied with a large green bow to see their little girl still sleeping peacefully among a nest of blankets.

Severus’ face immediately softens, and his shoulders relax as he reaches in to gently trace a long finger down the side of her plump cheek.

‘I’m sorry Severus.’ Remus murmurs. ‘I would never have forgiven myself if…’ He sighs.

‘No harm done.’ Severus responds. ‘Perhaps… I should help you out next year.’

It is not a jibe that Remus is incapable, but rather an admittance that he tends to leave most of the preparations up to Remus. That had been sort of an unspoken agreement, because if it were up to Severus it would be a quiet day, just the two of them – three now. Two present maximum, and as little fuss as possible. Now he seems to be acknowledging that it may be a little curmudgeonly of him not to at least support his partner, and that he is willing to be a little more involved in future.

‘How about next year we go away somewhere. Just the three of us.’ Remus smiles.

‘You…’ Severus stares at him wide eyed. ‘You would be willing to do that?’

‘Yes. I know how much you hate it. And I know you put up with it for my sake. Perhaps we can compromise; alternate years we can have a big Christmas with family and friends, then a quiet one just the three of us.’ Remus suggests. ‘And in return, you help out a bit more, and try not to fight with Molly over the turkey.’

‘That is my kitchen! And that woman…’

‘Severus.’

‘Oh fine. I accept your terms.’ Severus holds out a hand.

Remus chortles, then takes his husband’s hand to shake it in formal agreement.

‘Now, how much longer do you think she’ll be asleep?’ Severus intones in a deep rumble, pulling Remus towards him, and sliding his hands around his husband’s waist.

‘Oh a good half hour yet at least I should think.’ Remus responds with a smirk.

‘That will have to suffice.’ Severus mutters, and captures Remus’ mouth in a deep kiss.

~~🖤~💀~🖤~~

[No babies were harmed in the making of this fic!]

[itsadamcole]

christmas with benefits

fem!reader x ‘hangman’ adam page

reader and 'Hangman' Adam Page made a deal a few years ago; that if they were single at Christmastime then they would hook up. Christmas with benefits is what they called it, but this year, it's a little different ...

word count: 2.5k+

warnings: smut (friends with benefits, kinda), kinda fluffy, idrk what else :)

— day 25 ... we did it, and i will be going on a short break after this is posted (it’ll probably be around 11 pm est when y’all see this bc i was really late when i began to write this). i hope you enjoyed these christmas / holiday / winter themed imagines bc i enjoyed writing them —

masterlist || request an imagine here

~ 18+ content below - read at your own risk ~

You sit in your bed in your room back in your parents' house in Virginia. You've texted your best friend, the Hangman Adam Page, to come over since he's not that far away.

It's late, almost midnight on Christmas Eve going into Christmas Day. You sit in your Christmas pajamas as you wait. Your parents have gone to sleep so you just wait for the usual "I'm here" text from Adam so you can go open the front door for him.

This has been a thing every Christmas since yours and Adam's Ring of Honor days. Five years ago, five Christmases ago, both you and Adam agreed that if you were both single during the holidays then you'd casually just hook up. No strings attached, no feelings attached. Christmas with benefits is what Adam first called it, and you couldn't help but agree.

Every year, you'd either meet him at his childhood home, he'd meet you at your childhood home, or you'd meet at a motel.

You don't know how it even got to this point. Five years of hooking up on Christmas. Only one Christmas was missed because Adam was technically seeing a woman and didn't want to do the Christmas with benefits that year, which was fine with you.

The led lights that hang around your room are set to a light blue color and you play with the remote as you wait for your phone to go off.

Just before midnight, at 11:48, your phone starts ringing and Adam's contact pops up. You answer.

"Hey," you say. "Almost here?"

Adam says, "Just turned down your street. I hope you don't mind, and I wanted to give you a heads up, but I brought you a present. I don't know the next time we'll see each other so I wanted to make sure that you got it."

You smile and leave your room, walking downstairs. "Yeah, that's fine," you say. "I have something for you too."

It's been a while since you've seen Adam. He works with AEW and you work with WWE. Your schedules just don't allow you to see him except for a few times a year. Especially since you're NXT women's champion right now.

"Yay," Adam says. "I'll see you in a few."

You say your goodbyes and you wait at the door, watching for Adam's car.

This is something you've always looked forward to. It's something about being close to someone who cares for you and who you care for deeply. If it wasn't for the no feelings attached rule then you would have told him how you felt a long time ago.

Adam's car pulls up out from and you open the front door. The cool air hits you and you shiver a bit. You watch him get out of the car in his cowboy Christmas pajamas. He has a bag and a wrapped box.

Another part of your deal is that after the hookup then it's Christmas movies and snacks. Adam has snacks. That's what you assume is in the bag.

He walks up to your front door and smiles when he sees you. "Hi," he says. "I thought that maybe we can open presents before we, um, you know."

You smile and nod, moving aside so he can walk inside. You close and lock the door behind Adam as he walks upstairs to your bedroom. You closely follow him.

Adam sets the bag and the box down on your bed and you sit on the bed. You grab Adam's present off the bedside table under the lamp before you crisscross your legs and look up at him.

He sits in front of you, mirroring your position. He holds out his present and you take it. "Go ahead," he says. "I'm excited to see your reaction."

You giggle and begin to unwrap the gift. You open the box, which is actually kind of big.

Inside the box is an AEW merch shirt, one of the bandannas that Adam's worn during his entrances, and a necklace that you've wanted forever. It has your birthstone inside of a heart.

"Adam," you gasp. "I've been wanting this necklace forever."

He laughs and says, "I know. I figured it was time to buy it for you. Also, I dare you to wear the AEW shirt to work one day."

You laugh and say, "Stop trying to get me fired."

Adam helps you put the necklace on as he says, "Tony Khan already has told me he wants you on the roster so if Vince McMahon fires you then just come to AEW."

His fingers linger on the back of your neck by the necklace clasp a little longer than they probably should. You look back at Adam and say, "We'll see." You smile. "Anyway, it's time for your present. Open the little envelope after you open your gift."

You hold out the medium-sized box and Adam takes it. He unwraps it and opens the box.

Inside the box you gave Adam is a cowboy hat that has the AEW logo on it, one of your merch shirts, and a little silver bracelet with "cowboy shit", which is Adam's thing, and "ice queen", which is your thing, engraved on it.

You're known as NXT's resident "ice queen" because of your cold heart and rude personality. It's your gimmick. You love it, and it sounds kinda cool.

Adam smiles and opens the tiny envelope. You watch as his eyes widen and he says, "I know you didn't give me a yearlong pass to come to any WWE show."

"Of course I did," you say. "Front row, off-camera for the most part. I know we haven't seen much of each other because of conflicting schedules but maybe if you have some free time and are in the same area then you can use this pass to go in and out of the arena. It's completely free so you don't have to waste several hundred dollars just to see me for twenty minutes."

Adam's tried to come to WWE shows, but tickets were always sold out or not where he wanted them because it was always so last minute. You had the idea of the pass a few weeks ago, talked to management, and got it in time for Christmas.

He says, "You are literally the best person on this Earth."

You giggle and say, "That works for literally any WWE event. A Takeover, a regular NXT live show, or even Wrestlemania."

"Thank you, Y/N," Adam says, putting everything back in the box. "Seriously."

You do the same and say, "It's the least I can do. Maybe we'll see each other more than three or four times a year."

Adam looks at you and smiles. "I'll have to use that pass all the time," he says. "I need to see you more than three or four times a year."

You put your gift from Adam on your bedside table and say, "I agree."

He says, "So, about this Christmas with benefits thing."

"I wanted to talk to you about that," you admit.

While you waited for Adam, you decided to tell him how you feel. Screw the no feelings attached rule.

Adam looks at you confused and says, "Okay. What's on that pretty little mind of yours?"

Your face gets flustered a bit as you say, "We agreed that there would be no feelings attached and no strings attached, and we've done well at that for the past few years."

"But?" Adam asks. He knows what's about to happen.

Nervously, you say, "But recently I've been thinking of you as more than my best friend. I just want more out of this besides sex. You already treat me so well, and we've known each other for years, so I thought that maybe we could try to be more than just friends."

He stares at you as you talk. He can't believe this. You've been doing such a good job at hiding this that he had no idea, and he's not mad about it. He can finally tell you how he's been feeling about you.

In one swift movement, Adam cups your face and pulls you toward him. Your lips crash to Adam's and you gasp. You gasp softly but kiss him back.

The kiss lasts for a few moments before you pull back and ask, "What was that for? You've never kissed me except for when we're, you know."

Adam pushes your hair behind your ear as he says, "I thought that I could start kissing you when we're not having sex."

A smile forms on your lips and your face gets a little flustered. "I would, uh, like that," you stammer. "Can we still have our usual Christmas sex?"

He laughs and says, "That was never out of the equation, Y/N."

You giggle and lean in, kissing Adam again. He kisses you back and you crawl onto his lap, straddling his waist. Your hands slide into his curly hair and his hands slide up the back of your pajama top.

Sighs leave your lips when his hands touch your skin. You smile against his lips and push Adam onto his back.

Slowly, you begin to undress Adam underneath you. You kiss Adam's bare chest once his shirt is off. You do leave a couple of marks on his chest.

"The first chance you get, you mark me up," Adam says, looking down at you. You trail your fingers over the marks and down to the waistband of his Christmas pajama pants.

You look up at Adam with your eyes before you say, "You're mine now. I hope."

Nerves rise up within you as Adam says, "I am. I'm yours."

"Thank God," you sigh as Adam smiles.

You pull off Adam's pajama pants right before Adam rolls and lays on top of you.

He stares down at you and attacks your neck with kisses. You sigh and let out a soft moan. Adam's hands roam your body as he kisses your neck.

You pull off your top, leaving your upper body exposed. Adam's eyes are on your body and you bite your lip softly, watching him. After a moment, he leans down and presses kisses to your bare stomach. You sigh softly.

Adam hooks his fingers into your pajama pants waistband and pulls them off your body. He slips his fingers into your panties and runs his fingers through your folds. You gasp and your back arches off the bed.

After a few seconds of this, Adam pulls off your panties. You look down at Adam and find that he's looking up at you with his eyes. Your tongue swipes across your bottom lip as Adam slips a finger into you, moving it shallowly and slowly. You create a little 'O' with your mouth and a moan escapes.

"Baby, you have to be quiet," Adam reminds you. "Your parents are just down the hall."

You giggle and say, "Oops."

He laughs and speeds up his fingers as he begins to play with your clit with his tongue. "Adam," you sigh. "God, don't stop."

Adam smirks and adds a second finger. Your fingers are back in his curly blond hair. He edges you closer and closer to an orgasm. Your back arches off the bed a few times before Adam pins your hips to the mattress.

You feel your walls begin to clench around Adam's fingers, and he realizes this too. "You gonna come, baby?" he asks. You nod eagerly.

"Please," you whine, needing to release.

He nods and says, "Come for me."

So you do. All over Adam's fingers. You softly moan his name as you release. He sucks his fingers clean before coming up to your lips and kissing you. You moan into his mouth as you kiss him back.

While he's distracted with kissing you, you roll so you're straddling Adam's waist. Your lips are still on his.

Adam pulls back from the kiss and asks, "Where did this all of a sudden come from?"

"I wanted to try something new," you say, kissing Adam's jaw and neck. He sighs beneth you.

You slip your hand down to the bulge in his boxer shorts. You rub him gently and he makes a soft growl sound. "Y/N," he says with a soft moan. "Be nice."

In a split second, you decide to be a little tease. You grind down against his bulge and say, "You won't do anything."

He stares up at you as your finally pull off his boxers. You take his erect member and pump him a few times. You line him up with your entrance and he asks, "Are you still taking the pills?"

"I got an implant to make it easier on myself," you admit. "I kept forgetting to take the pills."

Adam laughs and you smile. Adam's laughs turn into soft sighs as you lower yourself onto him, his length slowly beginning to fill you. You throw your head back as you wait a second before you move. Your hands are on his chest to keep your balance as you begin to move.

Both of you let soft sighs leave your lips. Adam's thumb finds it's way to your clit as you move your hips. You moan softly as you move your hips faster. Adam's other hand is on your waist, helping you move.

He sits up a bit, propping himself up on one arm. His thumb is still rubbing your clit. You wrap your arms around his neck and your fingers are in his hair. His lips are on your collarbone.

His lips make their way up to your jaw. He says softly, "Keep going. You're making me feel so good."

Adam’s praises give you the confidence to move faster. His tip hits your g-spot and you gasp.

You lean down and kiss Adam softly as you move.

Your walls clench around Adam’s length. He moans into the kiss softly as you both reach an orgasm.

His name falls from your lips as you release around him and he releases his seed into you. You both fall into the bed beside each other.

The kissing doesn’t stop. You messily makeout with Adam as you both catch your breath. Your hands both roam each other’s bodies as your lips move messily against each other.

Adam is the first to pull away from the messy kiss. You look at him and he says, “So, we’re together now?”

“Take me out on a date first and we’ll see,” you tease.

He laughs and kisses you one more time before he pulls you into his arms. You bury your face into his neck and smile against his skin before dozing off a few moments later. Adam soon follows you and dozes off too.

[ourmiraclealigner]

Easy CO. Holiday Reacts

Gif not mine! Credit to owner.

a/n: happy holidays everyone! i know everyone doesn’t celebrate Christmas, so if you don’t, no specific holiday is mentioned in this so everyone can read :)

warnings: none

taglist: @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @mavysnavy @ivy-miranda-2390 @ya-yeeteth @rayofshanshine @primusk @punkgeekchic @inglourious-imagines @wexhappyxfew @vintagelavenderskies @easy-company-tradition @meteora-fc @teenmagazines @order-of-river-phoenix @contrabandhothead

—————————————-

Richard Winters:

- When the holiday season rolls around, Richard can’t stop the excitement that arises in him.

- It’s not the gifts that excite him, Richard always tells everyone to not get him anything and that he already has everything he needs.

- He’s excited about the time that he gets to spend with you- decorating, cooking, and shopping for presents for friends and family.

- He loves the little break from work he gets, content with getting to sleep in, with you in his arms.

- He knows it’s time he’ll never get back, and he cherishes it more than any gift anyone could possibly get him.

- He finds himself happier than he ever thought he could be when he wakes up with you in his arms, protecting each other from the cold air that is just outside your mess of blankets.

- After a few minutes, he can’t stop himself from pressing light, fleeting kisses to your face, smiling when your eyes flutter open.

Lewis Nixon:

- Unlike Richard, gifts are a big thing for Lewis during the holidays.

- Since he grew up with a wealthy family, he uses his money to show his love.

- He showers you with gifts all month long, handing them to you with a smile, his hands sweaty with anticipation.

- “I know you mentioned wanting this a while ago, I just couldn’t find it anywhere until a few days ago. I’ve been looking all around.”

- He looks at you nervously as you unwrap the box, smiling when you realize it’s a book you had told him you were interested in reading.

- He wraps his arm around you as you thank him, pulling you into his side.

- “I’m glad you like it, sweetheart.” He mumbles as he presses a kiss to your forehead.

Ron Speirs:

- Ron is indifferent when it comes to the holidays.

- He’s not overly excited or overly annoyed by the holiday cheer, he doesn’t care either way.

- He doesn't spoil your fun though, taking you to go see the lights in the city and in your neighborhood.

- You both get bundled up, hands intertwined as you walk around with smiles.

- He’ll kiss your temple whenever your face lights up, mumbling “You like this one? It’s pretty.”

- As you walk back to the car, he’ll unbutton his coat before pulling you into his side, wrapping his arm and half of his coat around you.

- “You’re so cold, baby, let me warm you up.”

Eugene Roe:

- Growing up with a big family, the holidays always meant chaos for Eugene.

- When he went away to fight, he spent too many away from home, experiencing a new kind of chaos.

- So, when you and Gene spent your first December together, he was shocked to find himself relaxed every night.

- He’d sit on the couch, exhausted and eyes half lidded as he watched you hang up the decorations and hum to yourself.

- “Come here.” He’d always end up mumbling, patting the open spot next to him. “I miss you.”

- When you did, he’d wrap his arm around your shoulder, leaning his head against yours as he let his eyes finally shut.

- “Let's keep the decorations up until after the New Year… they’re too cute to take down right away.” He sleepily mumbles, fingers rubbing soft patterns into the skin of your shoulder.

George Luz:

- George loves the holidays, and he’s not afraid to show it.

- Every year he goes above and beyond, coming home with more decorations than the year before.

- He’s always humming some sort of song as he’s working around the house, and even loves to help you in the kitchen.

- He’s always gently tugging on your waist after a few minutes, whining and begging you to slow dance with him.

- When you finally agree, his head immediately nuzzles into your neck as he softly sings whatever song is playing (somehow he knows them all).

- After a few songs he lifts his head, pressing a light kiss to your nose as he mumbles, “I’m so lucky I get to spend another holiday with you.”

- He’ll press a chaste kiss to your lips before pulling away, stepping closer to the counter. “Teach me how to make these.”

Joe Liebgott:

- Joe tries to act like he hates when the holiday season rolls around, but deep down, he loves it.

- He’ll help you decorate, feigning a few sighs as your favorite record plays softly in the background. After some convincing, he’ll start a fire in the fireplace, your small, shared house cozy as his cat hits some of the decorations with their paw.

- “Joe, you really don’t have to help me.” You say softly, “I don’t want you to be miserable.”

- He feels his chest tighten, his cheeks flushing as he realizes how pretty you look as the soft light of the fire hits you.

- “No, no, it’s fine.” He responds, his tone gentle. “It’ll be quicker if I help, right?”

- You chuckle, knowing Joe was having a better time than he was letting on. “Right.”

- He kisses your cheek, hand lingering on your back before he mumbles “Let me help you with this..”

Don Malarkey:

- Don gets quiet during the holidays.

- December always brings back memories he’d like to forget, and he finds it hard to come back after he shuts down.

- But, you brought new life back to the month, replacing the sorrow and dread he felt with love and happiness.

- You prefer to stay in most nights, forgoing endless invitations to dinners and parties to be able to stay inside, exchanging small gifts and kisses as you listen to the radio.

- You stay wrapped inside of a blanket, pressed against his side as he runs his fingers through your hair most nights.

- He’ll quietly sing if he knows the lyrics to whatever song is playing, his deep soothing voice lulling you to sleep.

- And once he realizes you’ve fallen asleep, he’ll gently pick you up and carry you to bed, pressing a kiss to your cheek before slipping in next to you.

Chuck Grant:

- Chuck tries to be home a lot earlier than usual when December rolls around.

- Other months, he finds himself working later than he planned, always feeling guilty when he walks through the door to find you haven't eaten dinner, and were waiting for him.

- So, he makes a point to always close on time in order to be home as you start cooking, so he can talk to you and help you.

- You don’t do much for the holidays, opting to just spend it with your families when the days roll around.

- Of course, you’ll get each other gifts and drive around to see the lights, but nothing much besides that.

- Growing up, Chuck's family never did much for the holidays, so that was what he was used to.

- As you lay in bed, his hand running up and down your side, he’ll mumble “I love doing this with you..just you and me here, nothing to worry about.”

Floyd Talbert:

- You and Floyd are very seldom home or alone during the holiday season.

- You’ve both made a lot of friends, so almost every weekend you’re having dinner or at a party celebrating.

- You spend a lot of time and money on gifts for friends and family, and it seems as if you’re trying to figure out a new dish to bring to every party.

- He still tries to make the month special for you, making sure there’s a few days that you both can just stay home and relax.

- After a few years, though, Floyd gets tired of the constant get togethers, so you both decide not to attend anymore.

- You spend the nights at home, alone together, sometimes venturing into town to see a holiday movie.

- He prefers it this way, always telling you how much he loves being alone with you.

Shifty Powers:

- Shifty prefers to spend his time outside during the holidays.

- As soon as he gets home from work he’s changing into warmer clothes, wanting to get outside as quickly as possible.

- Any winter activities, you’ll end up doing.

- He loves sledding and building snowmen (even though it always ends up in a big snowball fight).

- You went ice skating once, but it ended in a lot of bruises between the both of you as neither of you could keep your balance.

- He prefers somewhere private anyway, as he likes to press kisses to your red nose to try to keep it warm.

- “You look so cold, baby..why don’t we start heading inside?” He’ll always say as the sun begins to set.

Bill Guarnere:

- December means lots of time with Bill’s family.

- It’s quite a stressful month for the both of you, trying to figure out what days to go to his family, what days to go to yours, what gifts you’re going to buy, what dish you’re going to bring, etc.

- Bill is hardly any help, he’s awful at relaying information between you and his mom and sisters.

- He tries, but always forgets by the time he means to tell you.

- He’s used to the holiday stress though, so he doesn’t let it cloud his joy.

- When he sees it start to affect yours, though, he does what he always loved to do as a child- go get candy.

- With a big smile, he takes you to the candy store he often went to as a child, getting a bag full of his favorites and new things to try, so you can both go home and enjoy.

Joe Toye:

- Joe is the only one that genuinely does not like the holiday season.

- He pretends it isn’t happening, and treats the whole month like it was just any other.

- He is clear about not wanting any gifts, and will get upset if you try to give him any.

- Of course, he’ll get you one or two, to try and show how grateful he is for everything you’ve done for him and how you’ve stuck by his side.

- But, there's no decorations, or baking, or strolls through town looking at the lights.

- After a few years, he loosens up, but still has no interest in doing anything except getting gifts and letting you make cookies.

- He’ll always apologize, though, feeling awful for taking away your fun, but hoping you’ll understand.

Babe Heffron:

- Babe’s excitement is up there with George’s, but is not quite as high.

- He loves it more than you, and will spend all month talking about how excited he is, and how much fun he’s having.

- He’s used to getting spoiled by his mother though, so he keeps bugging you to make all of these recipes his mother does until you give in.

- Babe is also constantly slipping and falling on ice, so you’re constantly cleaning and bandaging small cuts and scrapes.

- You swear he comes home with a new one everyday.

- Once you finish, he’ll always press a light kiss to your lips, a soft smile on his face as he looks down at you.

- “Thank you for taking such good care of me, baby.” He’ll softly mumble.

[thewidowsghost]

The Unknown Muggleborn - Chapter 8

3rd Person POV

Later that night, (Y/n) crawls under her covers to go to sleep; Marvel lies her small head on (Y/n)'s chest.

"'Night, girl," (Y/n) murmurs, drowsily scratching behind the cat's ears.

. . .

A few hours later, Marvel lifts her head, nuzzling (Y/n)'s face to try to wake her up. She lets out a whimper, pawing (Y/n)'s face.

The girl was sweating and her neck was resting at an awkward angle. Her breath had quickened and her eyes were moving rapidly under her closed eyelids.

Marvel jumps off the bed and streaks into Hermione's room. Hermione had always been a light sleeper, so when the cat jumped onto her bed, she wakes.

Marvel meows, and Hermione's head tilts in concern.

"What's wrong, Marvel?" Hermione asks and the black-and-white feline paws at Hermione's hand and jumps off the bed, stopping at the door, then looking back at the brunette.

What a peculiar cat, Hermione thinks, throwing back the covers and following the cat across the hall to her sister's room.

Marvel streaks over and onto the bed, her green eyes wide as she tries to nudge her companion awake again.

Realization and fear dawn in Hermione's eyes and she walks across the room and switches on (Y/n)'s bedside slight before placing a hand on her sister's shoulder, shaking it roughly.

"Come on," Hermione murmurs. "You've got to wake up."

(Y/n)'s eyes flash open, and she sits up in her bed, her eyes closed, head leaning against the headboard, her hands trembling.

Hermione sits down on the edge of (Y/n)'s bed, and takes her sister's hands in her own.

(Y/n) looks up, her eyes wide with shock - and a bright silver.

Hermione looks at her sister and (Y/n) subconsciously moves over and Hermione slides under the covers, her back leaning against the other half of (Y/n)'s pillow.

(Y/n) leans against Hermione's shoulder; Hermione, used to these nightmares, remains silent.

After a few minutes, she reaches over and turns off the bedside light.

(Y/n) turns on her side, her head resting on the pillow, and Hermione does the same.

. . .

(Y/n) and Hermione don't talk about the nightmare the night before as the two go about the rest of the break leading up until Christmas.

After breakfast Christmas morning, (Y/n), Hermione, and their parents walk into the living room.

"You girls want to pass out gifts?" Mrs. Granger asks and (Y/n) and Hermione nod.

After passing out the gifts, (Y/n) settles back down at her place in front of the couch. (Y/n) pulls the wrapping paper off one from Fred, and sitting on top was a card. It said:

(Y/n), Somebody got this picture of your first Quidditch match, I thought you'd like it.

- Fred

Lifting up the card, (Y/n) smiles seeing a picture in a frame. It was a picture of Fred and George lifting her up onto their shoulders after her first Quidditch match.

(Y/n) sets the picture and card beside her before picking up a gift from Harry. She smiles when she sees a Advanced Charms book and a book on Magical Creatures.

(Y/n) looks over at Hermione as the brunette at her side opens her gift. (Y/n) had given her sister a copy of Hogwarts: A History.

"I have a copy already," Hermione says, turning to (Y/n).

"There's a charm on it," (Y/n) explains. "Whenever something important in Hogwarts' history, it get's copied down in here. Look," (Y/n) says, opening a page. It says, October 31, 1991 - Hermione Granger, (Y/n) (L/n), Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, defeated a mountain troll in a girls toilet.

Hermione stares down at the book and a smile slowly spreads across her face. "This is really cool! I love it! But that's not how that went," Hermione says.

"Ah, but it's better than what actually happened," (Y/n) argues. "That was not my best birthday."

(Y/n) grabs another gift, pulls the paper off, and finds a box of chocolate frogs from Harry, and she sets them aside, promising to have one later.

One of (Y/n)'s last gifts is a package wrapped in glossy blue paper with wolves printed on it.

(Y/n),

Happy Christmas! I'm very proud of what you have accomplished at Hogwarts in such a short amount of time.

-Love,

Uncle Remus

(Y/n) gazes down at the card, a small smile on her face. Then she sets the card at her side and looks at the contents of the box. Inside was a small stuffed wolf with a tag on it's ear that read - (Y/n)'s first stuffed animal, a gift from Uncle Remus. Under that was a new stack of photos that (Y/n) promises herself to look at later.

(Y/n) opens a package and finds a red sweater with a silver (First Initial) on it. Under the sweater was a large box of homemade fudge and a letter.

(Y/n), My sons Ron, Fred, and George have told me a lot about you. My husband, Arthur, and I wish to meet you soon. Happy Christmas! -Molly Weasley

Grinning, (Y/n) pulls the sweater over her head and the four finishing opening all their gifts, both (Y/n) and Hermione take all their things upstairs.

3rd Person POV - with Harry - A few hours earlier

On Christmas Eve, Harry goes to bed looking forward for the next day for the food and the fun, but not expecting any presents at all. When he wakes early in the morning, however, the first thing he sees is a small pile of packages at the foot of his bed.

"Merry Christmas," says Ron sleepily as Harry scrambles out of bed and pulls on his bathrobe.

"You, too," says Harry. "Will you look at this? I've got some presents!"

"What did you expect, turnips?" says Ron, turning to his own pile, which is a lot bigger than Harry's.

Harry picks up the top parcel. It is wrapped in thick brown paper and and scrawled across it was to Harry, from Hagrid. Inside is a roughly cut wooden flute. Hagrid had obviously whittled it himself; Harry blows it - it sounded a bit like an owl.

A second, very small parcel contains a note. We received your message and enclose your Christmas present. From Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. Taped to the note is a fifty-pence piece.

"That's friendly," says Harry.

Ron seems fascinated by the fifty pence, "Weird!" he exclaims. "What a shape! This is money!"

"You can keep it," says Harry, laughing at how pleased Ron is. "Hagrid and my aunt and uncle - so who sent these?"

"I think I know who that one's from," says Ron, turning a bit pink and pointing to a very lumpy parcel. "My mom. I told her you didn't expect any presents and - oh, no," he groans, "she's made you a Weasley sweater."

Harry had torn open the parcel to find a thick, hand-knitted sweater in emerald green and a large box of homemade fudge.

"Every year she makes us a sweater," says Ron, unwrapping his own, "and mine's always maroon."

"That's really nice of her," says Harry, trying the fudge, which was very tasty.

Harry's next present also contains candy - a large box of Chocolate Frogs from Hermione which Harry thought was kind of funny because he had gotten (Y/n) the same thing.

Harry's next parcel was from (Y/n). Opening it, he sees a small box. Feeling curious, Harry opens the box to see a couple of photos. One was of a raven haired man with amber eyes, Harry's father, and a red haired women with emerald green eyes, his mother. The two are standing with a (M/H/C) haired women, (Y/n)'s mum; all three were smiling.

Harry looks at another picture of two kids, probably about a year old. One was a boy with raven hair and emerald eyes, the other was a girl with (H/C) and green eyes - Harry himself and (Y/n).

Then, Harry sees a piece of paper sitting in the box.

Hey Harry,

I found these pictures in the box my godfather left me and I made a few copies. I figured you'd want them.

-Love,

(Y/n)

Harry smiles and picks up the final present. He picks it up and feels it. It's very light, he thinks, and he unwraps it.

Something fluid and silvery gray goes slithering to the floor where it lies in gleaming folds and Ron gasps.

"What is it?"

Harry picks up the shining, silvery cloth off the floor. It's strange to the touch, like water woven into material.

"It's an Invisibility Cloak," says Ron, a look of awe on his face. "I'm sure it is - try it on."

Harry throws the cloak around his shoulders and Ron gives a yell.

"It is! Look down!"

Harry looks down at his feet, but they are gone. He dashes to the mirror. Sure enough, his reflection looks back at him, just his head suspended in midair, his body completely invisible. He pulls the cloak over his head and his reflection vanishes completely.

"There's a note!" says Ron suddenly. "A note fell out of it!"

Harry pulls off the cloak ans seizes the letter. Written in narrow, loopy writing he had never seen before were the following words:

Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you.

Use it well

A very Merry Christmas to you

There is no signature; Harry stares at the note, while Ron is admiring the cloak.

"I'd give anything for one of these," Ron says. "Anything. What's the matter?"

"Nothing," says Harry. He fells very strange. Who had sent the cloak? Had it really once belonged to his father? he thinks.

Before he can say - or think - of anything else, but the dormitory door is flung open and Fred and George Weasley bounds in. Harry stuffs the cloak quickly out of sight. He doesn't fell like sharing it with anyone else yet.

"Merry Christmas!"

"Hey, look — Harry's got a Weasley sweater, too!"

Fred and George are wearing blue sweaters, one with a large yellow F on it,the other a G.

"Harry's is better than ours, though," says Fred, holding up Harry's sweater. "She obviously makes more of an effort if you're not family."

"Why aren't you wearing yours, Ron?" George demands. "Come on, get it on, they're lovely and warm."

"I hate maroon," Ron moans halfheartedly as he pulls it over his head.

"You haven't got a letter on yours," George observes. "I suppose she thinks you don't forget your name. But we're not stupid — we know we're called Gred and Forge."

"What's all this noise?"

Percy Weasley sticks his head through the door, looking disapproving. He had clearly gotten halfway through unwrapping his presents as he, too, carries a lumpy sweater over his arm, which Fred seizes.

"P for prefect! Get it on, Percy, come on, we're all wearing ours, even Harry got one."

"I — don't — want —" says Percy thickly, as the twins force the sweater over his head, knocking his glasses askew.

"And you're not sitting with the prefects today, either," demands George."Christmas is a time for family."

They frog-march Percy from the room, his arms pinned to his side by his sweater.

Harry had never in all his life had such a Christmas dinner. A hundred fat, roast turkeys; mountains of roast and boiled potatoes; platters of chipolatas;tureens of buttered peas, silver boats of thick, rich gravy and cranberry sauce —and stacks of wizard crackers every few feet along the table. These fantastic party favors were nothing like the feeble Muggle ones the Dursleys usually bought, with their little plastic toys and their flimsy paper hats inside. Harry pulls a wizard cracker with Fred and it didn't just bang, it went off with a blast like a cannon and engulfed them all in a cloud of blue smoke, while from the inside exploded a rear admiral's hat and several live, white mice. Up at the High Table, Dumbledore had swapped his pointed wizard's hat for a flowered bonnet,and is chuckling merrily at a joke Professor Flitwick had just read him.

Flaming Christmas puddings follow the turkey. Percy nearly breaks his teeth on a silver Sickle embedded in his slice. Harry watches Hagrid getting redder and redder in the face as he calls for more wine, finally kissing Professor McGonagall on the cheek, who, to Harry's amazement, giggles and blushes, her top hat lopsided.

When Harry finally leaves the table, he is laden down with a stack of things out of the crackers, including a pack of non-explodable, luminous balloons, a Grow Your-Own-Warts kit, and his own new wizard chess set. The white mice had disappeared and Harry has a nasty feeling they were going to end up as Mrs.Norris's Christmas dinner.

Harry and the Weasleys spent a happy afternoon having a furious snowball fight on the grounds. Then, cold, wet, and gasping for breath, they return to the fire in the Gryffindor common room, where Harry breaks in his new chess set by losing spectacularly to Ron. Harry suspects he wouldn't have lost so badly if Percy hadn't tried to help him so much.

After a meal of turkey sandwiches, crumpets, trifle, and Christmas cake, everyone feels too full and sleepy to do much before bed except sit and watch Percy chase Fred and George all over Gryffindor Tower because they'd stolen his prefect badge.

It had been Harry's best Christmas day ever. Yet something had been nagging at the back of his mind all day. Not until he climbs into bed is he free to think about it: the Invisibility Cloak and whoever had sent it.

Harry leans over the side of his own bed and pulls the cloak out from under it. His father's ... this had been his father's. He lets the material flow over his hands, smoother than silk, light as air. Use it well, the note had said.He has to try it, now. He slips out of bed and wrapped the cloak around himself. Looking down at his legs, he sees only moonlight and shadows. It's a very funny feeling.Use it well.Suddenly, Harry feels wide-awake. The whole of Hogwarts is open to him in this cloak. Excitement floods through him as he stands there in the dark and silence. He can go anywhere in this, anywhere, and Filch would never know.

Ron grunts in his sleep. Should Harry wake him? Something holds him back— his father's cloak — he felt that this time — the first time — he wants to use it alone. Harry creeps out of the dormitory, down the stairs, across the common room, and climbs through the portrait hole.

"Who's there?" squawks the Fat Lady. Harry says nothing. He walks quickly down the corridor.

Harry, his heart racing, and thought. And then it came to him. The Restricted Section in the library. He'd be able to read as long as he liked, as long as it took to find out who Flamel was. He sets off, drawing the Invisibility Cloak tight around him as he walked.The library is pitch-black and very eerie. Harry lights a lamp to see his way along the rows of books. The lamp looks as if it was floating along in midair,and even though Harry can feel his arm supporting it, the sight gives him the creeps.

The Restricted Section is right at the back of the library. Stepping carefully over the rope that separates these books from the rest of the library, he held up his lamp to read the titles. They didn't tell him much. Their peeling, faded gold letters spelled words in languages Harry couldn't understand. Some had no title at all. One book has a dark stain on it that looked horribly like blood. The hairs on the back of Harry's neck prickled. Maybe he was imagining it, maybe not, but he thought a faint whispering was coming from the books, as though they knew someone was there who shouldn't be. Harry had to start somewhere. Setting the lamp down carefully on the floor, he looked along the bottom shelf for an interesting-looking book. A large black and silver volume caught his eye. He pulls it out with difficulty, because it was very heavy, and, balancing it on his knee, lets it fall open.

A piercing, bloodcurdling shriek splits the silence — the book is screaming! Harry snaps it shut, but the shriek goes on and on, one high, unbroken, earsplitting note. He stumbles backward and knocks over his lamp, which went out at once. Panicking, he heard footsteps coming down the corridor outside —stuffing the shrieking book back on the shelf, he runs for it. He passes Filch in the doorway; Filch's pale, wild eyes looked straight through him, and Harry slips under Filch's outstretched arm and streaks off up the corridor, the book's shrieks still ringing in his ears.

Harry comes to a sudden halt in front of a tall suit of armor. He has been so busy getting away from the library, he hadn't paid attention to where he was going.Perhaps because it's dark, he didn't recognize where he was at all. There is a suit of armor near the kitchens, he knew, but he must be five floors above there.

"You asked me to come directly to you, Professor, if anyone was wandering around at night, and somebody's been in the library — Restricted Section."

Harry feels the blood drain out of his face. Wherever he is, Filch must know a shortcut, because his soft, greasy voice is getting nearer, and to his horror, it's Snape who replies, "The Restricted Section? Well, they can't be far, we'll catch them."

Harry stands rooted to the spot as Filch and Snape come around the corner ahead. They can't see him, of course, but it is a narrow corridor and if they come much nearer, they'd knock into him - the cloak didn't stop him from being solid.

Harry backs away as quickly as he can. A door stands ajar to his left. It's my only hope, Harry thinks. He squeezes through it, holding his breath, trying to to move it, and to his relief, he manages to get inside the room without their noticing anything. They walk straight past, and Harry leans against the wall, breathing deeply, listening to their footsteps dying away. They had been close, very close, It is a few seconds before he notices anything about the room he his hidden in.

It looks like an unused classroom. The dark shapes of desks and chairs are piled against the walls, and there is an upturned wastepaper basket — but propped against the wall facing him was something that didn't look as if it belonged there, something that looked as if someone had just put it there to keep it out of the way.

It is a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame,standing on two clawed feet. There is an inscription carved around the top: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.

His panic fading now that there is no sound of Filch and Snape, Harry moves nearer to the mirror, wanting to look at himself but see no reflection again; he steps in front of it.

He has to clap his hands to his mouth to stop himself from screaming. He whirls around, his heart pounding far more furiously than when the book had screamed - for he had not seen only himself in the mirror, but a whole crowd of people standing right behind him.

But the room is empty. Breathing very fast, he turns slowly back to the mirror.

There he is, reflected in it, white ans scared-looking, and there, reflected behind him, are at least ten others. Harry looks over his shoulder - but still, no one is there. Or are they invisible, too? Is his, in fact, in a room full of invisible people and this mirrors trick is that it reflects them, invisible or not?

Harry looks in the mirror again. A woman is standing right behind his reflection is smiling at him and waving. He reaches out a hand and feels the air behind him. If she is really there, he would touch her, their reflections are so close together, but he only feels air - she and the others exist only in the mirror.

She is a very pretty woman. Dark red hair and her eyes, emerald green eyes. Harry edges closer to the to the glass. Bright green - exactly the same shape as Harry's, but then he notices that she is crying; smiling, but crying at the same time. The tall, thin, black-haired man standing next to her put his arm around her. He wears glasses and his hair is very untidy. It sticks up at the back, just as Harry's does.

Harry is so close to the mirror that his nose is nearly touching that of his reflection.

"Mom?" he whispers. "Dad?"

They just look at him, smiling. And slowly, Harry looks into the faces of the other people in the mirror, and sees other pairs of green eyes like his, other noses like his, even a little old man, who looks as though he as Harry's knobbly knees - he is looking at his entire family for the first time in his life.

The Potters smile and wave at Harry and he stares hungrily hack at them, his hands pressed flat against the glass as though he is hopping to fall right through it and reach them. He has a powerful kind of ache inside him, half joy, half terrible sadness.

How long he stands there, he doesn't know. The reflections do not fade and he looks and looks until a distant noise brings him back to his senses. He can't stay here, he has to find a way back to his bed. He tears his eyes away from his mother's face, whispers, "I'll come back," and hurries from the room.

Harry does for the next two nights and Dumbledore had found Harry the last night. Dumbledore had told Harry the purpose of the mirror, to show the deepest desire of their hearts.

Dumbledore had convinced Harry not to go looking for the Mirror of Erised again, and for the rest of the Christmas holidays the Invisibility Cloak stays folded at the bottom of his trunk. Harry wishes he could forget what he'd seen in the mirror as easily, but he can't He starts having nightmares. Over and over a again he dreams of his parents disappearing in a flash of green light, while a high voice crackles with laughter. What Harry didn't know, was that (Y/n) was having the same dreams. Repetition from the one on Christmas Eve night.

"You see, Dumbledore was right, that mirror could drive you mad," says Ron, when Harry tells them about these dreams.

Word Count: 3759 words

[mizutoyama]

🦌🦌🦌 Alice and Charlie!

🦌 - What does this character like to do the night before Christmas? Do they spend it with family, out with friends, wrapping gifts at the very last minute?

Let's start with Charlie. I can imagine Charlie doing some last-minute preparation for the next day's celebration, either it's wrapping gifts at the last minute or having to help his mom prepare things, especially after Bill graduated.

Now Alice. Alice is half-French and half-Irish, but I would say her Christmas traditions come mostly from the French side of her family. This means that the night before Christmas is what is known as the "Réveillon", which is actually when you have the big meal with your family and unwrap presents. Because they don't attend Midnight Mass, the family doesn't eat as late as the usual French tradition. There are also some years where the 24th is more relaxed if her French grandparents are busy attending some fancy Réveillon function back in France, in which case the main event is the 25th and she spends the 24th with her parents (and Jacob when he was around).

Now, as for when Alice and Charlie are a couple... Nothing changes during their school years, and they actually break up right before graduation. Alice maintains her French traditions while in New York, and Charlie shows up at the Burrow on the morning of the 25th, unless his dragons are keeping him so busy that he can't come for Christmas, so the night before is either spent preparing to leave or caring for dragons. Now, when they do get back together, after the Battle of Hogwarts...

That's actually unchartered territory so, I'll just say that both are somewhat set in their ways by that time, but I haven't decided anything yet.

Thanks for the ask!!!

[ashintheairlikesnow]

To love, while all the while my heart was aching through and through for you, sweetheart, and only you for Savvie because we haven't seen that creeper in a while

To love, while all the while my heart was aching through and through for you, sweetheart, and only you 

CW: Creepy whumper intimate whumper, whumper POV, vague references to noncon, noncon touching (nonsexual), noncon kissing, manipulative whumper, shock collar

Jax Gallagher belongs to @comfy-whumpee and is used with permission.

She loves him so, so much.

She loves him so much, and on Christmas morning she wakes him with kisses and her arms around him, only to find he is already awake. He doesn’t gasp his eyes open with surprise, only blinks a few times, looks at her, and answers her murmured good morning with his own.

He takes too long in the shower and always has, but it gives her time to get everything just right and ready, so he comes down in the special red plaid pajamas she insisted he wear to match her, the black shock collar a wide band around his neck, to find Savvie waiting for him.

The Christmas tree in the formal dining room brushes the ceiling, and she and Jax so carefully decorate every single branch. She jokes that the ornaments on the tree are mostly custom and worth more than her uncle paid for him.

Jax doesn’t laugh at her joke.

Savvie doesn’t mind.

She gives him coffee, proud of herself for only adding a tablespoon of the thick peppermint mocha creamer to his, and he thanks her for it, in a soft voice. He knows to thank her for everything, this time. She feeds him a cinnamon roll in bites she puts to his lips herself, and if his face pales a little, and then reddens just slightly, she’s too lost in her perfect merry Christmas to mind.

He’s just blushing.

She loves him so, so much.

Then she moves over to the tree on bare feet, crouching in front of it, glancing over her shoulder to see if he’s looking at the line of her shoulder, the flash of skin along her back. He isn’t, but that’s okay. He’s just distracted by looking out the window at the snow three feet high outside their door. It’s going to snow for three days, they say, and Savvie for one thinks it’s absurdly, perfectly romantic that they will celebrate Christmas together like this.

She places the box in his hand and he jumps, just slightly, turning to look down at it and then back up at her. “Miss Savvie?”

“Open it. It’s yours, Jax. From me to you. Well, one of the things from me to-... open it. I want you to start.” Her eyes are sparkling blue, hair pulled back in an elaborate silver clip and spilling over her shoulders and down her back. Leaning over him in her plaid chemise - matching his pajamas perfectly - with a strap hanging off one shoulder, she looks like she belongs in a romance novel, the protagonist of one of the movies she loves to watch, and she knows it.

Her hair spills forward, brushes against his shoulder, and he shivers a little.

She knows it’s because he loves her hair. Of course he does. 

Half the presents under the tree, she bought for herself, for her uncle and aunt, for her cousins. But there are a few she bought for herself and had him sign, standing behind him with a hand against the small of his back, her eyes focused intensely on every minute flicker of expression as she told him to write Love, Jax.

He had a slight smile on his face all the while, and kept his eyes on the gift tags in front of him, his fingers tight around the pen in his hands, ink bleeding slowly from the nib.

Love, Jax. Love, Jax. Love, Jax.

It’s not like he could have bought things for her on his own, right? What mattered was the thought, it’s the thought that counts, and she has ensured he is allowed to think of no one else.

“Open it,” she repeats, and watches him swallow, as though the coffee has gone down the wrong way, before he sets his mug aside and looks at the box in his other hand, taking a breath. 

“Of course, Miss Savvie. Thank you, Miss Savvie.”

“You haven’t even seen what it is yet, silly. You shouldn’t thank someone if you don’t even know what they got you. What if I picked something you hate?” Her voice is soft and teasing. His eyes move to hers instantly, searching, before he looks back down again. “You have to open it and then say thank you.” 

She puts a hand up, palm against the side of his face, and watches him open the present with entirely too much care. It takes too long, but Savvie doesn’t move. She never stops staring at his face, watching for his reaction.

Looking down, he has unwrapped a small black box. His breath catches in his throat - does he know? Has he guessed what it is yet? The gasp must be from excitement - and after another look up at her, he pops open the box, velvet soft, to show the ring nestled into the silken lining inside.

“M-Miss Savvie-”

“I promised you, didn’t I? I told you I would get you one.” She smiles at him, leaning in, kissing his cheek. With her hand against his face on one side and her mouth pressed to his skin on the other, he must be drowning in her - her hair and her skin and the perfume she was careful to apply before he finished his shower. He is always drowning in her, from when he wakes in her arms in the morning to when she pulls him to her at night.

She loves him so, so, so much.

“Yes, thank you.” His voice is low, and he doesn’t look up. There is still the slight, faint smile on his face. She’s never seen him smile any more than that.

Some people just don’t smile much. She’s used to it by now. She pulls back, all glittering smiles herself, to pull his next present out from the pile and lay it in front of him. 

He swallows, and looks up at her, then. If he seems a little pale, Savvie doesn’t mind. It’s probably just from surprise, he just hadn’t realized she already ordered the ring. “Could you open one, Miss Savvie? I-I just need a second.”

“Of course.” She picks out a present - from him, the tag says, and she knows exactly what’s in this one since she bought and wrapped it herself - and carefully peels the tag away. Inside is the Marchesa dress she’s been coveting for months, swaths of sheer fabric adorned with appliqued florals, the deep ruby red corset-style waist the color of shimmery drying blood. She thanks him with another kiss to his cheek, not noticing the way his left hand is clenched into a fist, now, nails digging into his palms. When she thanks him, he only smiles, just a little, in return.

All Savvie sees is the smile, the nod, the careful attention to everything she says and does. She basks in the attention from him, she bathes in it. She is the center of his world, just as she should be, as she should always have been.

The world was all out of order, for those years she spent in prison. Here, with Jax in her house in her arms in her bed in her heart, it’s all just how it should be.

How it will remain.

She thanks him for all the presents she bought for herself and put his name to, and she makes sure to peel each tag up. She sticks the last one to his chest, just over his heart, and when she laughs, he smiles and doesn’t pull away from the kiss she presses to his lips.

‘“Love, Jax,’” She reads, playfully poking the tag. “It’s like you gave yourself to me. Like you’ve been my real gift all along.”

“Yes, Miss Savvie,” He responds. Slight smile. Empty eyes. 

She doesn’t care.

She loves him so, so much, and she’ll never let him go.

---

@eatyourdamnpears​, I know you’ve been wanting more of her! Also tagging @astrobly​, @slaintetowhump​, @moose-teeth​, @finder-of-rings​, @burtlederp​ who asked to be tagged in everything

[greyfacewhispers]

Christmas Day was just the three of them. Still for lack of the house being full it was no less merry, Jo moved about the house cheerfully while the smells of baking and cooking rose from the kitchen. Grey attempted reindeer shaped pancakes though he couldn't quite get them down they more unfortunately resembled flattened moose with dog noses. The chocolate chips had been a good idea in theory but Grey just hadn't managed to get it like the picture beside the recipe. Breakfast was still sweet and lovely, with fresh maple syrup provided by Grey's special powers of summoning, and soon it was midday. Grey took several pictures of Jo and Nana and a few with himself in it just because the dog looked so cute in her Santa had and little dog sized Christmas vest. It was warm and comfortable and soft.

“Can we open the presents now?” Jo whined. Though they had not bothered with a tree this year their presents to each other and the presents for Nana were neatly stacked in the living room looking no less festive for the lack of an evergreen sheltering them.

Grey laughed. “I'm surprised you waited this long and didn't go tearing into them last night,” He grinned when Jo huffed and swatted at him playfully with the dish towel she had been using to dry her hands. “Let's do Nana's first so she doesn't get impatient yeah?” The big Bernese mountain dog pranced in place, each of her presents being partially unwrapped first by one of her masters then given to her so she could nose and tear her way though the rest of the paper, which this year Grey had made an effort to find eco-friendly and recyclable wrapping paper to create less waste, to her toys. She appeared enamored especially with a stuffed monkey that squeaked when she bit it or pressed on its belly. After several minutes watching and laughing while Nana did everything she could to get the monkey to keep squeaking including bouncing on it like a fox pouncing into heavy snow, Jo clambered over Grey towards their presents.

“M'first this year!” Jo declared, seizing the large present to her from Grey. “Ooh it's heavy.” She felt around the package gently trying to decipher what it was before opening it while Grey sipped his hot chocolate and nibbled on the peppermint and white chocolate bark Jo had made. His stomach was in knots and neither the peppermint nor the warm chocolate was able to soothe the nerves that were twisting it so. Jo looked up at him, eyes shining brightly. “Did you paint me another painting?” She asked clearly fully of joy.

“Well you'll...you have to open it and see won't you?” Grey said, heart racing suddenly. The last painting he had given her of Nana was proudly displayed in their home but this one was so different Grey was suddenly uncertain how Jo would take it. His hands shook as Jo back to carefully peel the paper back.

“It is a painting!” Jo crowed, uncovering one end and opening the end of the box the painting had been put in to protect it then spotting that it was canvas. To his surprise, she stood up and carried the painting back to the couch where he was. Setting it carefully aside Jo threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. “Thank you! I love you so much!”

“You haven't even seen it yet,” Grey said baffled but holding her back lovingly. “What if you don't like it?”

“I'd like anything you painted ya silly man,” Jo purred, cuddling into him warmer than the hot chocolate and more soothing than the peppermint. “You could ne'er paint anything bad. It'll be beautiful. But it's so big!” She released him with a quick peck on the corner of his mouth and turned with her wide brown eyes to the present, lifting it and carefully balancing it on her knees. “The painting of Nana was much littl'r!”

“This painting deserved a bigger canvas,” Grey said, watching her fingers peeling slowly at the wrapping paper and uncovering the plain brown box further. She did not appear to pick up on his nerves the way she was smiling.

“Is it another one of Nana?” She asked, finding the tabs on the side that would allow her to open the box like opening a book and reveal the whole painting at once.

“You'll have to open it to see,” Grey's heart was louder now in his ears.

“Welp then let's get it open then!” Jo said, flipping the cardboard back. She froze looking down at it. Grey also froze, holding his breath. There it was, the portrait of Bill. The subject was looking down and to his left so the viewer's right as he was facing the viewer. He was smiling brightly, Grey thought with some grief that the smile had taken much longer than it should have to get right and he still wasn't sure he had fully captured it. “Oh.” Jo spoke again, one hand leaving the painting to cover her mouth. “Oh it's... it's my dad.”

“Yes,” Grey whispered, heart plummeting when she didn't smile and instead stared at the painting in wide eyed shock. “You-you didn't have any pictures of him and I wanted...” His mouth was dry. “I thought you should have a picture of him. So. I painted one.” Jo had not shifted her eyes from her father's face not one millimeter while he was talking. The hand covering her mouth was beginning to tremble. “Jo?” Grey asked softly.

She quickly but carefully set the painting on the coffee table in front of them on the couch then burst into tears.

For several minutes Grey struggled helplessly in the wash of Jo crying. His questions of if she was all right, if she needed anything, what could he do to help, all went unanswered as Jo cried hard. Sometimes she buried her face in her hands, other points she stared down at the painting as she sobbed, more often though because Grey's immediate instinct had been to hold her Jo cried with her face pressed against his chest or shoulder or neck. The sounds of her pain, the wetness of her tears were agony to Grey and he could do nothing seemingly to staunch the wound he'd opened. Jo cried through his questions and his apologies and his own quiet noises of dismay and sadness. She cried and she clung to him and despite the fact she was doing the clinging Grey felt himself like a shipwrecked sailor haplessly clinging to flotsam while he struggled not to be pulled into the drowning unmerciful depths of a churning sea. Eventually her tears stopped though she was still making hollow dry sobs.

There was a pile of tissues that Grey did not remember creating scattered in an avalanche from the couch to the floor. Their hot chocolate had definitely gone cold and the sun had crested and was on its down slope towards the night. Grey felt like ash inside, as though a fire had burned through him and left a hollow harshness inside. “I'm sorry Jo,” He whispered softly, broken.

“Why do you keep saying that?” Jo asked, pulling back and staring at him with eyes red from crying and a nose red from wiping and cheeks shiny from the tears that had fallen. “Why-why do you keep apologizing? What are you /sorry/ for?”

“I-I made you cry?” Grey blinked, not understanding. “So I'm sorry. I thought it was a good present but-”

Jo stopped him with two fingers hastily placed against his lips. “Please don't apologize for my present. I /love/ my present, this is-” She sobbed again seemingly not able to control it and clutched at Grey, arms around his neck tightly holding him. “This is the most /wonderful/ present I've ever gotten. Please /please/ don't apologize. You gave me such an amazing gift. I love you so much Grey, you do so much for me.” The tears had started again but this time they were slow and less a flood than a soft spring rain on her cheeks. “Hunny, you are the most wonderful man. The most wonderful man ever. Thank you. Thank you so much.” She released him and turned to her painting.

When she touched it it was with reverence. Her fingers hesitantly exploring the canvas, tracing the lines of her father's face. She kept her touch light so as to not greatly effect the oils though they were dry but she could not seem to resist stroking the painting. Her brown eyes looking down were full though the emotion in them was still very mixed, yet Grey did recognize now there was joy there. And love. So much love. Jo lifted the painting, setting it up vertical balanced in her lap across her thighs so it was almost like Bill was looking down at her. “It looks /just/ like him...” She said with wonder. She blinked and turn to Grey, flushed. “Do you understand what you did for me?”

Grey did not and he was hesitant to make a guess so he shook his head slowly. Jo smiled at him, a watery smile but a sincere one. “You made a Christmas miracle. An honest t'God, sure thing Christmas miracle.” The love in her voice was thicker than the syrup they had poured over their breakfast this morning and a thousand times more sweet.

“Then I'm happy,” Grey said finally, reaching out to wipe away a stray tear that had escaped from the corner of her eye and ran down her soft pink cheek. “Merry Christmas Jo. I love you.”

[jacklefay]

lilac & poppy!

[ask list here]

lilac ~ what's something new you want to try?

hmmmm something new that i want to try... i'd like to try larp-ing! that's a form of roleplay that i somehow haven't dug into yet, much to several of my friends surprise ahaha!

poppy ~ what's your favourite tradition you do with friends or family?

oh several. growing up, we'd do a sunday spaghetti dinner with the family and would play cards (usually hearts or uno attack).

and then at christmas we do something kinda similar to the white elephant game, but we call it the dice game. we set up to bowls with two sets of d6s in each.

base rules of the game: if you roll doubles you get to pull a present from the pile in the center of the circle, and if you roll double sixes, you get to roll again. you roll once and then pass the bowl in the same direction it was going. each bowl goes in opposite directions of each other, so sometimes you get both at once.

first round is purely pulling from the center and you go around and around until everything is gone/taken.

second round is stealing! you don't unwrap at all. same rules as pulling, except this time you're stealing from your family member and fighting over unknown presents. time limit is 15 minutes and once that's up, that's it!

then you open whatever you ended up with and can trade for whatever.

there was one year where the family was fighting over this giant heavy box that ended up having a bowl of wax fruit in it lmao

[fratboykate]

“No.”

Lexa firmly tells her wife and passes the drenched dish over for drying.

“But why? You haven’t given me a good reason.”

Clarke begrudges, taking the plate, and haphazardly patting the towel around a few spots before placing it on the pile to her right still mostly wet.

“Because I said no.”

Lexa presents another plate and before even pretending to dry it this time Clarke simply puts it down on the pile prior to turning and facing Lexa. Clarke crosses her arms over her chest and stares at her wife.

“Definitely not a good reason.”

Lexa rolls her eyes and runs her hands overs her jeans a few times in an attempt to get the excess water off as best she can. She steps over Clarke and reaches for the moist cloth that rested on the counter and begins to dry the stack of plates herself.

“Because you’re going to post a million pictures online, at least one of which is going to inevitably get back to my office, and I’m going to have to put up with it for weeks. They cropped all of you out of last year’s pictures and used me dressed as a clown on the invite to our Christmas Party.”

Clarke chuckles at the memory.

“I remember.” Lexa looks up from the plate on her hand to stare at her thirty four year old wife. “I thought it was funny.” Clarke shrugs and smiles.

“Of course you did.” Lexa grabs half a dozen of the plates in front of her, places them on her forearm, and sets off around the kitchen putting them all in their respective cabinets while Clarke watches. “They already call me a cold hearted bitch behind my back. Not giving them visual aid to go with it.”

“How would this give them ‘visual aid’?”

“I’m not doing it Clarke. Pick something else, better yet, pick something just for you guys and leave me out of it.”

“The kids love it when you dress up.”

Clarke all but whimpers in response, knowing full well the children loved Lexa in costume much less than she loved Lexa in costume.

“Let it be.”

Clarke walks up to Lexa and inserts herself between her and the cabinet, forcing the older woman to look at her. Clarke wraps her arms around the thirty seven year old and pulls her close. She knew it was time to use her charm.

“It’s perfect.”

“It’s humiliating.”

“It’s kind of genius actually. I’m Dorothy. You’re the Tin Man because we need to get you a heart. Cos is the Wicked Witch because she’s mean and ruins all the fun. Jake is the Lion because he’s afraid of everything that moves…and somehow also of the things that don’t. Nana is Glinda because she’s the only good kid we made. Turtle is Toto and that one is self-explanatory. It’s perfect.”

“Why do you get to be Dorothy?”

“Because I’m the star of this show. Don’t kid yourself.”

“And Ro is scarecrow because…?”

“Don’t make me say it.”

Lexa shakes her head disapprovingly.

“You’re terrible.”

Clarke runs her hands up Lexa’s chest bringing them to rest around her wife’s neck.

“Shut up. It’s temporary. I’m sure. She has your genes after all. She’ll catch up…eventually…” Clarke grimaces jokingly. “…Hopefully.”

“Mother of the year Clarke. Truly.”

Lexa chastises Clarke.

“Listen, I’m just realistic. I know what we’re working with.”

Lexa rolls her eyes, kisses Clarke’s forehead, and unwraps herself from her wife’s embrace seeing as one of them has to actually finish cleaning the kitchen.

“I’m not being the Tin Man.”

Lexa argues firmly.

“Technically Tin Woman.”

“Still no.”

“Who do you want to be then?”

“The normal adult who stands three feet away in comfortable, warm, non itchy clothes and nods politely at the people who give her children candy.”

“So you want to dress up as "boring”? That’s what you dress up as every day. Mix it up babe.“

Lexa turns around and flips Clarke off.

"Grouchy!”

Clarke mocks her wife with a smile.

“Clarke, I said no. That’s the end of that discussion.”

—

Two weeks later Lexa found herself in the middle of a gelid Central Park, wearing an uncomfortable, scratchy, and not at all warm cardboard box armor thing that still smelled like silver spray paint fumes which were making her more than a little dizzy. Lexa huffs while getting jerked around by Clarke who tries to maneuver the family into what she feels is the appropriate arrangement for the obligatory family pictures - the ones Lexa already knows are going to be passed around the office in a mass email - and she ponders on the mystery of how her wife always manages to get her to do exactly as she pleases.

What would Halloween be like in the CFAU universe? Would Clarke have to force Lexa into a family costume, kids on sugar highs?

I feel like shit today so I won’t do it know but I also know that if I leave this unanswered it’ll just get buried/I’ll forget so remind me sometime before the end of the month and I’ll give you some Spooky content