#let N make a scarf that he adds a new row to every year

[roseofhybrids]

For the godhood au I think most of them would be wearing lounge wear while in the bunker the way papa titan does

With N having embroidery on a robe that just a really goofy dog doing something cool and a cap V made for him

The thought about their outifts did cross my mind

I mean, it's been several hundred years, even if they didn't want new ones, those other clothes would have disintegrated after being worn that long. So they've all likely had to change to new default outfits a few times.

perhaps they all have something formal/semiformal they wear when they leave the bunker. But then, back home, dress are comfortably as they want. The workers outside likely bring then clothing as tribute on occasion. So I think it would be funny if one of them got something either really fancy, or really "divine robe"-y, and they wear that to lie around in. Because at this point they have no reason to care about wrinkling a fancy suit jacket

need to give the exact styles of each of them some more thought, though. But I do think it would be nice if each one had at least one hand-made part of their outfits that one of the other two made for them

currently thinking, a shawl for Uzi made by N

a scarf for V made by either Uzi or N

and maybe a sweater? for N made by Uzi I'm not 100% sure with his what the exact thing will be. But Uzi made it, and didn't do a great job since it was her first attempt, but he still insists on wearing it all the time

[professorrw]

All I Want, Remus Lupin Fanfiction

Chapter Twenty-Two (The End)

Warnings: FLUFF, smut, death, violence, swearing, age gap, slight angst, major spoilers for Deathly Hallows

A/N: It’s the last chapter!!!! This is the first fanfiction I’ve ever posted on anything and I can’t believe how well it’s done! I also just hit 100 followers on here too! Thank you to everyone that’s read this series, I genuinely hope you enjoyed it! If you’d like to be tagged in future works message me or comment what franchise or character you want to be tagged in and I’ll add you!

As the winter holidays arrived, the castle found itself empty. Students departed to be with family, leaving only a handful behind with the teachers. Snow covered the castle and it's grounds, creating a winter wonderland for those that remained. The weather was extremely cold, although beautiful at the same time. Most stayed inside though, relaxing near a fire while drinking from hot mugs.

Students and teachers alike switched to casual attire for the holidays. Everyone in the castle was wrapped up in thick sweaters, trying to keep cozy. On Christmas night the Great Hall was lit with hundreds of candles, illuminating the room with a warm glow. Christmas trees, decorated with ornaments and garlands, lined the walls. For the few people that remained, a feast of turkey, potatoes, cranberry sauce, and other enticing items appeared on the tables.

Teachers ditched formalities and moved to sit with the students, who had all joined at the Gryffindor table. Since Voldemort's death, dislike and prejudice between houses had dwindled. Many of the former Death Eaters' children didn't return to school so most Slytherins were innocent students that just happened to be placed there. You, Remus, and Minerva chatted with Luna, who was going on about the new things her father had planned for the Quibbler.

Hermione and Ginny both decided to go to the Burrow to celebrate the holidays. Like you, they were both in new relationships. Just as you predicted, Harry and Ginny got back together, and Hermione and Ron finally confessed their feelings for one another. A while after the battle Hermione informed you of the impromptu kiss between her and Ron which caused them to realize their mutual feelings.

Harry and Ron were both starting their training to become Aurors, which made Hermione feel better that they weren't attending school. Things were moving forward in the blink of an eye. The battle felt like it was just yesterday, yet it had been more than half a year. It was nearly foreign to you that things could be calm for this long, but this was the new normal.

Remus squeezed your hand under the table. You smiled fondly at him as he began to stroke the back of your hand with his thumb. The sensation made your whole body go fuzzy, that was the effect Remus had on you, even now. Over a year ago you both departed from the Burrow to be safe. Who would have known things would end up like this?

Even with the small crowd, dinner lasted longer than usual. Almost everyone was spending more time socializing than actually trying to eat. There was no need to be in a hurry, so you and your fellow teachers enjoyed the company of each other and the students.

Over an hour after the feast started, people began to leave the Great Hall and head to wherever they pleased. You and Remus were the last remaining in the Hall. You were about to leave as well when Remus stopped you, tugging on your hand to get your attention.

"Let's go on a walk."

It was lightly snowing outside and was getting dark, but the street lamps of Hogsmeade were wrapped in twinkling lights. The shops were open, allowing lone witches and wizards to stop by for something to drink and someone to talk to on Christmas. You had added gloves and a scarf to your already warm outfit and Remus had done the same. No matter how beautiful it was, you didn't want to catch a cold out there.

You and Remus strolled past the storefronts and stopped a little ways away from the end of the path. The light from the street lamps created a soft glow on Remus' face as he gazed at you. Your fingers of one of your hands were intertwined with Remus' and he brought that hand up to his lips and pressed a soft kiss against your gloved knuckles.

You couldn't help but notice how quiet he was being. He didn't speak too much normally but as you walked he didn't talk and he still wasn't.

"Remus are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm just thinking."

"About what?"

"I've been through a lot in my life yet, I would go through it all again if this were the outcome. Being with you... is all I could ever wish for. You are the light in my dark life. I have lost so much, so many people. Never again will I waste the time I have with the people I love. Y/N I know we haven't been together long, but you are everything to me. I would be a fool to not do this."

Remus stops talking and gets down on his knee. You're filled with emotions as you realize what's happening. He pulls a velvet box from his pocket and opens it in front of you. Inside lies the most beautiful ring you've ever seen.

"Y/N Y/L/N, I promise to always be by your side, no matter the circumstances. I want to be yours for the rest of time. I will cherish every moment spent with you as if it were my last. Will you marry me?"

You sink on your knees and wrap your arms around Remus. Tears stream from your eyes as he returns the embrace. "Of course I will."

He gives you a long kiss before taking your hand in his. He pulls the glove off your hand and slips the ring on your finger. Everything felt so perfect. Nothing could possibly make this moment more special. No words could describe the pure joy you felt.

......

The next few months leading up to your wedding was a whirlwind. You and Mrs. Weasley corresponded daily making arrangements leading up to the wedding in June. You and Remus agreed you wanted to get married as soon as possible.

You sat in your bedroom with Hermione and Ginny, your maids of honor. They were dressed in beautiful champagne colored dresses that you picked out together. Your stomach was doing flips inside of you. In just a few minutes you would walk down the aisle, Remus at the end of it. The thought made your heart flutter.

There was a light knock on the door. Mr. Weasley poked his head in, "The music is starting girls. Harry and Ron are waiting at the door for you two."

Harry was Remus' best man and Ron was his groomsman. You walked down the hall and to the double doors that led to your backyard. In front of you Harry and Ginny linked arms and began to walk out. Trailing after them was Hermione and Ron. Mr. Weasley held his arm out for you to take and looked over at you.

"You've grown so much. Your parents would be proud."

You replied with a warm smile. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were like your second parents. Being close to their kids caused it. During the holidays you and your parents would go to the Burrow to celebrate with the Weasleys. It felt like ages since the last time you spent Christmas all together. You were all very close, so it felt right to have Mr. Weasley walk you down the aisle. He was glad to do it too.

You and Arthur walked out of the doorway together and began to walk. A few yards away was Remus, tears glistening in his eyes. He looked magnificent in his suit and tie. As the distance between you was closed, your eyes never left Remus'. You couldn't stop yourself from smiling. The nerves you felt before dissipated. As you got to the end of the path, Remus took your hands in his.

You both listened and got through vows and the wedding ring exchange as rehearsed.

"I now pronounce you Mr. and Mrs. Remus and Y/N Lupin. May now kiss the bride." The officiator steps out of the way and a camera flashes as you kiss. The small crowd of yours and Remus' friends cheered and stood as you both walked back down the rose petal covered path to the house. Looking around you saw Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, George, Bill, Fleur, and Victoire in the second row. Mrs. Weasley had tears in her eyes as she clapped. George gave you a thumbs up, which made you laugh.

You made it through the double doors and back into the house. You cupped Remus' cheek as you kissed him again, more passionately this time. His forehead rested against yours as he whispered, "Mrs. Lupin.?"

"Mr. Lupin?"

"I love you."

"I love you too." You kissed Lupin on the cheek and then went back outside to find that your backyard had been transformed. In the center was a dance floor and off to the sides were tables so everyone could eat. Beige drapes hung on posts over the dance floor. Twinkling lights were wrapped around the trees and hung from their branches. Garlands were placed in the center of the tables along with white roses in vases.

All the Weasleys, Luna and her father, Harry, Hermione, Minerva, Hagrid, Kingsley, and Tonks were seated, awaiting you both to return.

The music started again and Remus pulled you onto the dance floor for your first dance. He pulled you into him and wrapped his arms around your waist. You pressed your cheek to his chest as your arms went around his neck.

You sighed, thinking about everything you went through to get to this point. Remus sensed your unease.

"What's wrong dear?"

"It's just... we've been through so much. We've lost so many people along the way."

"I know darling. There's nothing that can bring them back, but gaining you is a blessing I won't take for granted."

It was true. They had faced enough pain and loss to last lifetimes. In the past two decades Remus had lost his best friends. In the past two years Y/N lost her parents and one of her best friends. Nothing could bring them back but being together would heal so many other wounds. Together, you could mend the holes that had been left behind.

As you two swayed in time with the music and gazed into each others' eyes, anyone could see that you were looking at your universes. Because no matter what, nothing could break the bond that had flourished between you.

......

Nine months later you would welcome a new life into the world, your son, Farris Lupin, who was named after your father. You and Remus were both granted leave from teaching until the new school semester so you had plenty of uninterrupted time to spend with Farris.

One night, a few months after he was born, you went into Farris' bedroom. Sitting in a large leather chair was Remus and Farris. Farris was laying on Remus' chest, sleeping soundlessly. Remus too was asleep, the book he was reading to him lying in his lap.

Extra: (this happened at your wedding)

As the night began to wind down, you were sitting with George at a table. You both sipped out of your glasses, reminiscing on your adventures at Hogwarts.

"Hey Y/N?"

"Yeah Georgie?"

"Me and Fred had a bet."

"Oh really?" You were surprised George was freely talking about Fred. After his death, George broke down for weeks. Anything related to Fred was a sore topic for you both. You three were best friends all through school, and even past it. So close in fact, that Mrs. Weasley secretly thought you would marry one of them.

"Yeah. I just won it today." George looked down at his fire whiskey and tossed it back, downing it in one gulp.

"What... What was it about?"

"I promised Fred I wouldn't tell you." George would never break that promise, and it was possibly for the better. The bet was made in their fourth year, and would stay a secret for the rest of time.

Taglist: @bellamy1998 @sxsalvatore @ottjord @lina1945

[geordiewrites]

I Did Something Bad | James Potter

A/N: Before reading, I just want to say this story is based around cheating, so simply if you don’t like that, don’t read it! It’s also really bad, but I need to get back into the swing of regular writing for my mental health’s sake, and this was my way of doing it so please don’t be too harsh reading it. I’m still v new to this shit, and v Geordie too so if I’m using words you don’t get or smth like that, just lemme know.

Summary: Y/N has been in love with James Potter for who knows how long... the only problem is when something happens between them, he’s in a relationship with someone else.

Warning: Infidelity, cheating, mentions of sex, angst, shit writing, shit characters, just don’t expect much okay?

“I have to tell you something.” Y/N says, fiddling awkwardly with the now frayed hem of her mustard-yellow jumper, fingers fumbling as she tries to speak.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” Marlene, her best friend, asks worriedly, but Y/N just shakes her head, tears beginning to spring in her eyes. Seeing this, Marlene quickly rushes to sit next to Y/N on the edge of her bed in their gold and crimson adorned dormitory. She just stares blankly out of the window, trying and miserably failing to hide the fact that all she wants to do is rush out of Hogwarts and never return.

“I don’t even know where to start, Marls.” She mewls between choked sobs. “There’s so much I haven’t told anybody.”

“You can tell me.” Marlene continues, throwing a comforting arm over her friend’s shoulders with ease. Her face is twisted with worry, the kind of anxiousness that Marlene has never seen before and frankly is terrified by. “Just start at the beginning, I suppose. Who’s all this about anyway? Do I need to beat anyone up?” Marlene says frantically, and Y/N lets out a humourless laugh.

“No. Me, perhaps. Just promise if I tell you, you won’t tell Lily about it?” Her voice breaks more and more with every syllable.

“Why would I need to keep something from Lily?”

“Because it’s about James. Me and James.” Y/N whispers, pressing her face into her trembling hands.

“You and James?” She questions just a little too satirically, causing Y/N to send her a withering glare. “What is it you need to tell me?”

“I slept with him, Marlene.” Y/N cries before she finally collapses into a flummox of tears and loud cries that fill the dormitory with a tense, thick silence as the information settles in.

“When?” Only one word is managed from Marlene, said in a half shocked, half angry tone. Y/N feels Marlene’s arm shift off of her shoulder as she moves to sit cross legged on the floor. Away. Away from Y/N.

“The night of the party in September when they had that huge row because he got drunk when they had agreed not to.” She replied, her throat dry and hoarse making speaking physically painful, but she had to tell somebody. Anybody who would listen and wouldn’t judge her too harshly. Unfortunately however for Marlene, this burden fell to her since everyone else was out that day including both Lily and James, leaving no chance of being overheard.

“How did it happen?” Merlin, Y/N, why did it fucking happen?” Marlene said angrily, looking for something to throw across the room just to watch it smash into millions of irreparable pieces.

“You know bloody why, Marls.” Y/N snapped crossly, earning something close to a sympathetic look from Marlene.

~

Y/N couldn’t remember a time she had felt so lonely as to when James was kissing her.

It was strange really, since she had been madly in love with him for who knows how long at this point. But there, with their clandestine kiss captured into fracturing moonlight in the middle of her otherwise empty dorm room, with his hands travelling softly past her waist and to her hips, lips moving against hers in the way she had dreamed of, Y/N felt more solitary than ever. Perhaps it was because she knew he didn’t love her, that to him it was just completely physical. Maybe it was because he loved another, and someone she had been friends with for years at that. Deep down she knew it was simply because it was James.

James. James who used to carry her books because he was a whole head taller than her, and therefore claimed she needed a prince to save her. James who played Quidditch with her even though she was hopeless at it, and in return she waved a Gryffindor scarf for him at his games. Sometimes he even claimed it was the reason he won. James who told her that Lily was the love of his life while crying into her shoulder, unknowing that Y/N wanted nothing more than to hear those words about herself. But she wouldn’t, couldn’t, ever.

She could taste alcohol on his tongue as it moved expertly against her own, dark and bitter and sweet all at the same time. He carried a beautiful aroma of cigarette smoke, just slightly stale, and strangely oranges and the overly expensive cologne he always wore because Lily told Marlene she liked it four years previous. Everything about him screamed his love for Lily. From tousled hair to mirror her celebrity crush, to the way his eyes lit up every time the redhead walked into a room. And then there was Y/N, hopeless and drowning in an unrequited affection.

James and Lily were the Romeo and Juliet of Hogwarts, the epitome of a saccharine love story stretching over the expanse of seven years. Seeing them together was to be in the presence of true love, at least that was what almost everyone said. Nevertheless, only Y/N seemed to notice otherwise. The longing looks at other girls from James, the way they barely ever held hands, the fact they never kissed in public... although she had brushed this all aside, convincing herself she only saw it because he was looking, and that it wasn’t actually there at all.

But there James was, about to sleep with Y/N and throw that supposedly perfect relationship with the girl he had fawned over for years into turmoil. Some selfish part of Y/N wanted just that, perhaps that was the biggest reason when he whispered an “Are you sure?” against the skin of her jawline, she replied with a definite yes.

The rest of the night passed in a haze of afterglow and skin against skin, and for the most part, Y/N felt oddly sad. James’ touch felt hot enough to let her very skin on fire where he had touched her, and yet she still felt cold knowing he didn’t love her. He didn’t spend his nights dreaming of the colour of her eyes, but she knew his were a shining hazel with tiny flecks of green interspersed within them. She knew his birthday, his favourite colours and lessons and movies and stupid muggle bands... useless details really. They didn’t mean anything except to remind her of what she didn’t have, and of what Lily did.

And of what Y/N was now taking away from her.

~

“He was sad and we were drunk out of our minds. I remember finding him alone in the corridor. I remember talking to him about Lily for awhile, and then suddenly we were kissing and I couldn’t bring myself to say no.” Y/N explained slowly, the hazy memories of that night becoming more and more clear with each passing second.

“I can’t believe this.” Marlene said, raking fingers through her honey hair and pulling on the roots in shock. “I can’t believe it, Y/N.” She repeated, over and over and over until it seemed just a little more plausible. A little more tangible. A little more real. “I don’t blame you, you know.”

“What?!” Y/N exclaimed, an icy surprise erupting in her veins and sending a cold chill throughout her body.

Marlene smiled painfully. “What you did was awful, but he was the one in a relationship.”

“‘Suppose so. What should I do?” She blurted desperately, running her hands over the burgundy silk of her duvet as she anxiously stood up.

“You have to tell Lily.”

“I can’t.”

“You have to, Y/N. He cheated on her with you!” Marlene shouted, previously calm voice rising with exasperation.

“You don’t think I know that?” Y/N hissed back, venom beginning to seep into her voice but it wasn’t even aimed at Marlene. It was aimed at James, and at herself. “I fucking know I fucked up, Marls. But I can’t tell Lily - the literal sweetest person - that I shagged her boyfriend and that I’ve been in love with him since James learned who she even was. And he’ll never feel that way about me. Ever. He saw a quick fuck when he looked at me that night and a future wife when he saw Lily. Why do you think they’re still together? Because he doesn’t care.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so, so very sorry. But James isn’t going to tell her, and she has to know-!”

“Maybe he will.” Y/N interrupted.

“We both know that’s a lie. Somebody has to tell her, and it’s going to have to be you.”

“Please Marlene.” She begged, heart aching within her chest as a million unkempt memories flashed through her mind in the space of a mere moment.

~

“Come on, Y/N, truth or dare?” James asks through laughter.

“I should never have agreed to play one-on-one truth or dare with you.” Y/N replies irritably, although it’s stupidly short lived when he sends her that shit eating grin, and all over again she feels like a thirteen year old with a crush. Deep down she still is, underneath the makeup and the fake laughter, she’s still the same little girl who thinks she doesn’t deserve love. “But fine, I choose truth.”

“Good choice. Alright, who was the first person you ever shagged?” James asks curiously.

“Wow, James, way to make it seem as though I’ve done a hundred people.”

“Apologies, but go on.”

“Fine.” Y/N shifts awkwardly. “It was you, actually. Back in fifth year.”

“Oh.” He replies after a long pause, which to Y/N feels as though it will never end.

“I don’t really remember it if I’m being honest.” She adds in an attempt to dispel the thick tension that has built up. It doesn’t, and James can barely meet her eyes. “We were drunk, I think.”

“I often am when I spend time with you.”

~

And that was the moment it hit Y/N. The moment when he started giggling at her confession. The moment when she knew she hated him almost just as much as she loved him, because she had let that infatuation with him consume her. The moment when he told her in return that he only needed her for drunken sex, after she had lied about remembering it. Because she did remember it, so well in fact that it may as well have been etched into her skin with scarring inks. Where he touched her, how it felt that first night. And how it felt the one they wrecked his relationship.

That day, sitting with Marlene in her dormitory having just told her of the worst crime Y/N had ever committed, it hurt just the same. And now she was stuck with this pain, this awful, selfish feeling every time she saw him and Lily together that she just wished something would happen to her and James could be together.

Y/N never expecting it to be through cheating, but perhaps that was all it would ever be.

A one night stand, forever kept in the darkest part of her mind with the rest of her regrets. Regretting never telling James of her love for him. Regretting not asking him years ago to kiss her age fourteen, maybe she could’ve had a chance to get over him then. It felt like she never had that. It was a hookup, a torrid, illicit affair.

And that was all it would ever be. But perhaps that was what she deserved.

As Y/N walked down towards the Gryffindor common room, she could only think of a few things. How Lily could possibly react, how James would react to her telling Lily because he didn’t. Both had thousands of answers, none of which she could possibly predict in the moment. Step by step down the mahogany staircase leading to the plush, homey centre room the Gryffindors adored so much, Y/N inhaled and exhaled sharp breaths, planning out exactly what she was going to say to Lily in her mind.

All of that went away when she saw them together, curled up on the red velvet sofa in front of the dying embers of a once roaring fire, just watching it flicker away with their hands intertwined. Just sat there, staring hopelessly into one another’s eyes, so deep in love they didn’t even notice her step in the room. While she expected tears to spring in her eyes, they didn’t, the usual feeling of suffocation she felt around them had suddenly disappeared.

And as Y/N watched them, it finally hit her that what James did wasn’t some way of trying to communicate a discontent in their relationship, it was a stupid, pathetic mistake. But that’s all it was: a mistake.

And they would just have to live with that.

~

Nancy xx (again, apologies for how crap this is but it’s my first attempt at writing in a loooong time)!

[silverkoushi]

blue scarf ; sugawara koushi

haikyuu!! one shot

⇢ scenario: in which you forget to bring a scarf on the way to school, but running into him suddenly makes the cold, chilly air dissipate away with your feelings for him burning in your chest instead. ⇢ feat. : suga (karasuno) x you (f!reader) ⇢ genre : fluff, meet-cute, self indulgent lbr ⇢  wc & warnings: 2.8k, none ʕ·ᴥ·ʔ lmk what you think! i’m considering a 2nd part for this :-)

Sugawara Koushi didn’t have much to look forward to during his weekday mornings going to school. He is neither an early riser nor a person who absolutely abhors waking up before noon. He usually gets up before his first alarm turns off, and readies himself for the day ahead. He’ll chug a scalding hot cup of coffee sometimes, munch on an energy bar with half-lidded eyelids or perhaps snooze away whilst leaning against the wall in the bathroom as he brushes his teeth — but that’s all routine to Suga, there isn’t much to think about things you do on a daily basis for so many years now. 

But that fateful day on a winter morning, well into his second year of high school, Koushi didn’t think there could be anything mildly interesting about his routine on the way to Karasuno.

Until he met you.

“Good morning,” he mutters, a friendly nod towards you. You quickly whip your head to the sound of his muffled voice underneath the blue scarf wrapped around his neck snugly. Half of his face was covered, probably in an attempt to keep exposed skin warm but for some reason, you can hear the smile in his tone. 

“M-morning,” you stutter, reddened cheeks the only heat your face is emitting against the cold wind hitting the air around you. You had gone out forgetting your own scarf again, only to have remembered once you’ve already turned so many streets away from your house. 

There is that logical voice in the back of your head encouraging you to return home and grab it, maybe two so you can chuck it in your locker in case this happens three more times in a row — but the early morning lecture from your mother would have been an inevitable reason of frustration for you eventually. So, you swallowed your pride and the sense of feeling anything on your face as you braved the biting winter season welcoming the streets of Miyagi. 

Unfortunately for you, Koushi had detected the shivering in your words as well as your shoulders, watching the way your hands wrap themselves around you. He knew you went to the same school given the shared colors of your uniform, but for the past year and a half he spent in it, he’s bewildered by the fact that he’s never noticed you before today. 

“Do you have something to keep you warm?” He asks, concern laced in his soft spoken manner. 

Your steps naturally slow down to match his but as his body inches closer to you, the more you feel your feet side stepping two inches away. You were still very much in a state of freezing cold at this point, but having the Sugawara Koushi walk to school with you at the same time, greet you a good morning, and realize how stuipid you must have looked walking around with nothing to defend yourself from the weather? 

Your body would probably give out first due to embarrassment rather than hypothermia. 

“N-no,” you bite your lower lip in a futile attempt to keep the chattering of your teeth to a minimum, but the sudden breeze attacking your face made you come to a halt. Hair suddenly all over the place, you sacrifice the warmth your hands were exuding off your sleeve-clad arms to fix the flyaways atop your head. In your peripheral vision, Sugawara pauses with you, eyes trained at your actions with an indistinguishable expression— thanks to his scarf. 

You panic inwardly, making haste with flattening out the pesky strands of hair without so much help as a mirror to see if you’re actually making it look better or way, way worse. 

Curse him, you think with your eyes closing tight for a second. If there was anyone in the world — or at least the 3rd year batch in Karasuno — who had the messiest, most unkempt hairstyle you’ve ever seen: it’s Sugawara. And yet, it’s what gives the guy so much charm to his appearance without even getting to know his personality yet. 

Admittedly, it was one of the first reasons why you harbor indescribable feelings towards him since you moved to his school just a few months ago. Your feelings had only deepened even more so in the bottomless pit of your heart once you have (eavesdropped) on the many anecdotes a lot of his friends from your class had said about him. (Particularly the student with a manbun named… it escapes you).

“Sorry, y-you can g-go ahead,” you let him know, shoulders shivering from the lack of heat source as little as your hands have given them. Sugawara continued to look at you with those gentle hazel eyes, studying every minute twitch of your body, and hands nervously tucking the last stray bangs out of your face. 

“I’ll probably just go back h-home to get m-my scarf and b-be late for class—” you don’t know why you’re explaining your inner defeat out loud to him, but it was soon interrupted by the very blue scarf that hugged his neck being stretched out to you. 

With your hands falling to your sides, your eyes held its nervous gaze upon kinder ones; and there is no telling how similar to a tomato your whole face had been colored by now. Sugawara urges the scarf closer to you, his tight lipped grin finally exposed for you to witness, for the world only just waking up to see for itself. . 

“I think you need it more than I do,” he chuckles lightly, and before his arm gets numb from reaching over to you, you grasp the blue scarf with utmost care. It’s soft, just like you imagined. You feel nervous putting it around you while having an audience of one for at least three minutes now, but it would be rude to make Sugawara wait. 

As you let the scarf engulf you in its small yet snug embrace, sudden notes of what smells like gingerbread cookies invite your senses to inhale it all in. To your side, you hear Sugawara laugh a little louder and longer this time, but it didn’t sound mean at all. You still look at him curiously, the lingering holiday-esque scent keeping you more wide awake than you actually were. 

“My perfume probably rubbed off on the scarf,” he explains as if reading your mind (your eyes probably told it all, though). “It was an early Christmas present from my younger brother.” 

“Oh,” you respond meekly, appreciating the tiny detail of his family life shared to you in the most unexpected of ways. “He has good taste,” you add, smiling shyly against the fabric. 

“Right? My friends say it smells childish and too sugary,” Sugawara nods his head one too many times in agreement, pouting his lips at the end. “I think Daichi and Asahi just need to feel like a kid again more often.” 

“I like gingerbread cookies, so this is right up my alley,” you comment, falling into step once more with Sugawara right next to you. If a few minutes ago your feet seemed to be magnetically pulling you away from him, this time you revel in the feeling of his arm brushing against yours every so often as you walk along the path to school.

He didn’t seem to notice— or maybe he didn’t mind? Either way, you masterfully calculated how wide your steps needed to be in order to accidentally mismatch his, and so the faux touching happens and your fast heart thudding in a never ending race.

“Ah, how could I forget to introduce myself?” He perks up in an instant, brows up in surprise while he puts a hand behind his neck for comfort. “I’m Sugawara Koushi, a third year in Karasuno.” 

And I already knew that, and have been infatuated with you way before I heard your name, you confess in your mind, careful not to let the embarrassed squirm on your lips protrude from the scarf. Sugawara waits for your name expectantly, blinking up at you. Without hesitation, you blurt out yours, adding on that you’re in the same year as him. 

“Is that so? Which class are you in?” 

“3-2. I just transferred a couple months into the year, so I’m fairly new…” 

“That explains why,” Sugawara hums to himself, grabbing hold of his chin as if to ponder over this information. You grip the handles of your backpack a little too tightly, not knowing what was there to outwardly think about you being new to the school, and the area. It’s not like it mattered too much to him, right?

“I’ve never seen anyone from my school walk the same way I do in the mornings, apparently they all live on the other side of town. Just like my friends,” Sugawara grins, and you couldn’t help yourself but to take in the endearing sight before you. 

You wish the walk was an endless path, but soon enough your eyes can make out the exterior structure of the high school building, as well as the many trees surrounding its gate. Most of them had quickly shed off their leaves the past few days, and others are dusted with soft, plush snowflakes overnight. It was truly a sight to behold, entering the winter season away from the air pollution of the city where you used to live. 

And also, the sight of Sugawara Koushi admiring the very same surroundings, his mole highlighting the beauty that his face radiated this early in the day. 

Since you’re closing in on school grounds, a couple more students enter your field of vision; in groups of three, five or those who keep to themselves. Unconsciously, you dip into the gingerbread scented scarf further, nose scrunching at the possibility of returning the source of warmth to its owner sooner than you realize. 

Having reached the gate, you begin to unwrap what has become your most favorite temporary prized possession from your neck, but the man in question (and always on your mind) physically stops your hand. His fingertips touch the back of your palm ever so slightly, sending tingles along your arm. 

You jump from the sensation, taking Sugawara aback with you but he was quicker on his reflexes and keeps the same calm, gentle expression you love to daydream about. 

“You can keep it, I’m sure the cold would be even more bothersome after school,” he urges. 

Shaking your head, you protest, “No, no. I couldn’t— how about you? You’re walking home, too…” 

“I have my volleyball jacket to keep me warm!” He chirps, sounding rather proud with the mention of his club uniform. With the scarf hanging down from your face, your smile lets itself out warmly this time. You’ve always wanted to watch him play upon hearing of his vice captain role in Karasuno’s volleyball team. There hasn’t been any official matches yet as far as you’re concerned, but going to their practices after school without any relation to the members whatsoever just deemed suspicious to you, so you kept the image of Sugawara tossing the ball and wearing his jersey and shorts and his messy hair even more out of place all to yourself. For now. 

“I insist, though, you can keep it until you buy a scarf of your own,” Sugawara snaps you out of your reverie, a teasing tone seeping through his words. It takes you a second to realize this, noticing how his smirk turns into a goofy smile in an instant. 

He’s teasing you, and you sure are wrapped around his slender, pretty finger. 

“I— I have my own scarf! I just forgot it at home,” your first reaction is to pout, crossing your arms defensively at the lighthearted accusation. “I’ll take the scarf home tonight to wash it and give it back to you!” you huff once more, watching how Sugawara chuckles at your serious demeanor. 

“Understood,” he responds with a mock salute, opening the door for you. You bow your head to thank him, awkwardly shuffling your feet to get you inside the somewhat less cold temperature in the school lobby. You proceed to change your shoes with your locker being a few steps away from Sugawara, and you contemplate whether or not it was okay to wait up for him. You share the same floor after all, but was this supposed to be the end of your interaction for today?

“Ready to go up?” Sugawara calls your name for the first time, looking back at you as he approaches the staircase. 

You blink back, the worries swirling in your head slowly disappearing just by looking at him smile at you. And he said your name. You take the stairs to the third floor, a couple of students you recognize from your year in the hallways have said their quick hellos and nods towards the volleyball player, and you see him reply back in earnest grins and high fives. 

Upon reaching your classroom first, Sugawara stands by the open door, right in front of you. 

“Thanks for the company, it was a nice change of pace for me,” he tells you, the mole on his left eye crinkling in the way he smiles. You nod your head, ears heating up at the way he focuses all of his attention towards you — it’s a nerve wracking feeling but nevertheless something you’d want to experience again. 

“Thank you for the scarf, I’ll make sure to return it in good condition,” you promise. “Have a good rest of your day, Sugawara-san.” 

He opens his mouth slightly as if to correct you, but closes it at the next second when another boy screams his name at the top of his lungs at the other end of the hallway. 

“Suga-san!!” A boy with a clean, shaven head runs up to him in a skidding halt, almost toppling over you. You flinch at this volume instinctively, wary of the fact that the situation between you and Sugawara would be misconstrued at this moment. In reality, he barely recognized your presence, wide eyes glowing at his friend instead. 

“Have you seen Kiyoko-san? I need to talk to her!” He cries out loud, hands clasped tight. 

Sugawara shakes his head no, places a hand on his friend’s shoulder to calm him down. “I haven’t, Tanaka. I just got here. What do you need her for?”

“I forgot to tell her how beautiful she looked yesterday after practice, and I feel like I had done the worst crime ever known to man,” Tanaka groans in frustration, a dramatic hand wiping at non-existent tears. As if on cue, you and Sugawara stifle a laugh, and that’s when he finally sees you. He takes a step back, points at your figure, then at Sugawara, mouth hanging open. 

You’re certain he stopped functioning, so you squeak out, “Um.. hi.” 

“Suga-senpai, you didn’t tell me you were taken! Does Daichi-san know? Asahi-san? Why are you leaving all of us behind like that— and keeping it a secret, too! I thought we were close buddies on the team!”

“Tanaka, shut up!” Sugawara had gravitated his hand over to the loud mouthed guy’s lips, clamping it shut. He tries to blabber some more but his words become incoherent, and you wouldn’t have been able to process them anyway with your cheeks rising to the heat, and your head getting dizzy due to his assumption about you two. 

Sugawara isn’t less fazed, sweat oozing out his temples as he looks at you with an apologetic expression. “Sorry about my teammate here, he’s uh— he doesn’t have a filter, even with people he doesn’t know.” 

“It’s okay!”

“I— I’ll see you later, then, yeah? Good luck in your classes today! Fighting!” He hurriedly tells you, dragging the Tanaka boy alongside him. You watch Sugawara push him on his back, almost tumbling down the stairs with the way he kept struggling from his grasp. You concur that Tanaka would have been a second year if they had went a floor down. Thankfully, students out and about had minded their own business, so you finally rush inside the classroom and took in everything that happened ever since you realized you forgot your scarf. 

As your trembling heart beats at a normal pace, you finally become aware of the scarf you’re still using even when seated at your desk. The scent of Christmas cookies and Sugawara become one to you, and you feel utterly lucky to have been given a piece of him albeit it was out of his kindness (so you think). 

“Hey, mornin’! Nice scarf,” your friend arrives with a few minutes before class starts, and you wave at her hello. You hadn’t taken it off yet. 

“You still feelin’ cold in here? I think it’s pretty toasty actually,” she comments, placing her bag underneath her desk and making herself comfortable in the seat next to yours. You don’t respond, only bury yourself in the comfort of Suga’s scarf. She begins to share her morning festivities, and you listen with half a mind thinking about the next time you’re going to face Sugawara again. 

You wish it was already tomorrow. 

[cheadle-yorkshire]

[fanfiction] Hunter x Hunter - This Year Of Mine

Title: This Year Of Mine Pairing: Ging x Pariston, Ging x Pariston x Cheadle, slight Ging x Cheadle Word Count: 2551 Summary: It is the Year of the Rat. Each year, when it is their turn, it is customary to allow the members of the Zodiac Twelve the chance to indulge in some personal manner. The occasion means something different to each of them, and not all of them celebrate in the same way. Pariston has some ideas about the tradition. A/N: I'm back, and with something new! :D I've missed the Zodiac Twelve so much. It's been so long since I've written for them!! But I've always wanted to write something for the Zodiacs to celebrate the Lunar New Year, and since it's the Year of the Rat, there's no better time! Takes place post-Should You Choose To Accept It. I hope you enjoy! [Ao3]

This Year Of Mine

It's early in the morning, rain misting over listless gray clouds, the weather unusually tepid. What traffic fills the streets of Swaldani City is sluggish as if to match. Meetings have been called for all of the members of the Zodiac Twelve to appear, and those that are early congregate in the halls with cups of coffee or stale donuts left over from the previous day.

For once, they don't have to chase down Ging Freecs. The boar of the Zodiac is seated in his chair, head bowed, likely in the middle of a nap. The others do not bother him, but from the doorway Cheadle regards him with an uncharacteristically doleful expression. The energy in the Hunter Association headquarters is an odd combination of elements—some lifeless, some peculiarly energetic. It's almost enough for everyone to forget that it is actually something of a holiday. Not all of them celebrate the occasion, and not all in the same way—but for each of the Zodiacs, when it is their turn, it is customary to allow them to indulge in some personal way. Piyon, more than any of them, takes the opportunity to fill the space with conversation.

“I have lots of weekend plans,” she is saying to the others around her. “I'm going to a concert, and I have dinner reservations at this new place opening downtown by some of the embassies. Lots of Gourmet Hunters are going, and I got an invite through them.”

“Some of us like to eat, too.” Saiyuu looks up from his phone for the few seconds it takes to speak, then cants his neck back down to keep scrolling. He's leaning, his posture horribly slumped, against the wall outside the main conference room. “You shouldn't say things like that if you're not going to invite everyone.”

“—And I was thinking about catching a movie. The weather's dreadful for being outside,” Piyon continues, undeterred. “What about you?”

Beside her, Cluck balances a stack of folders under one arm, the other clutching a paper plate rimmed with overdrawn flowers against a blue plaid backdrop. The donut she selected is square and plain-looking, the top folded in a style popular from the countries to the north.

“Several years ago, I attended some cultural festivals held around this time. I remember it was fun,” Cluck says. “I might go again. I haven't decided.”

She takes a large bite. Saiyuu's face creases, as if remembering something unpleasant.

“That's right,” he says, more to himself than the others. “I threw a lunch, when it was my year.” The corners of his mouth pull down even further. “Didn't I get in trouble for that?”

“You expensed a lunch,” Piyon reminds him cheerfully. “From that awful Eastern Yorubian place you like so much.”

“I put the leftovers in the fridge.” He scratches at his chin. “I ate well for a week.”

“The communal fridge,” Piyon adds, with a far more sour tone. “When it's my turn, I think I'll do something different. But I do like the idea of a party.”

Cluck takes a few more smaller bite of her donut before coming to a consensus.

“I hate the jelly kind,” she says to Piyon, who has a sugar-encrusted donut stuffed in a napkin to keep from getting powder on her fingers or clothes. “It's too sweet. I'm really not feeling it today, either.”

From the doorway, Cheadle's ears twitch.

“Did Ging do anything last year to celebrate the Lunar New Year?” Piyon asks. “I can't remember.”

“No.” Saiyuu coughs into one elbow, then clears his throat. Cluck wrinkles her nose.

“Ging's boring,” she agrees. “He doesn't celebrate anything. Birthdays, holidays. It's a miracle he's here at all, really. I expected we'd have to drag him in by that unwashed scarf of his.”

“It was an ordinary day,” Saiyuu says, exhaling loudly. “There are so many of those.”

Cheadle's ears twitch again. She adjusts her posture to let Botobai and Geru pass by as they enter the conference room.

“There's an expectation you do something,” Cluck continues. “It's your animal, after all.”

“He doesn't dress up. He hasn't changed his face. It's no surprise he wouldn't celebrate the year of the boar.” Piyon shrugs before taking delicate bites of her donut.

“I remember—this was before you were a member, Piyon—when it was Botobai's turn, he threw a massive party at his family's compound, outside Swaldani. It was a picnic—even his great-grandchildren were there! We all spent the time eating together and having fun. There was no talk of business, or meetings, or boring politics. And don't give me that look, Saiyuu! All politics are boring! And at least I put up some decorations, my year. It's been awhile since we've had something truly memorable, is all. I know we've been holding our breath waiting to see what the Rat will do, but I think we deserve a little celebrating, once in a while. We work so hard.”

Cluck ends her speech by folding her arms across her chest and looking satisfied. A bit of crumbs fall off of her jostled plate and onto the floor.

Piyon suddenly tilts her head, the ears on her headband swinging. “Speaking of,” she says. “Has anyone seen Pariston?”

“Uhh...”

“I wasn't looking.” Saiyuu clears his throat again and shrugs.

Cluck dusts more crumbs from the bands that cover her forearms. “We can't start without him, as much as we'd like to.”

“I'll go looking for him.” Cheadle's voice calls out, but before she can take a step Ging is there, his hand at her elbow.

“Let me.” He adopts an easy smile, but his eyes are hard as he glances at each of them in turn. He's never been one for gossip, they know, and while he doesn't care to judge them for it, it becomes very clear he had been listening to every word.

“I'll find our Vice-Chairman,” he says, and begins to amble down the hallway. “It's not like him to be late to anything.”

The path to Pariston Hill's office—the obvious first place to start—takes him up several floors and down another long hallway. Here, the walls and doors are covered with extensive layers of molding, painted white, and the carpeting is patterned and bordered like that of an ostentatious area rug. He comes to a set of double doors, thrown wide open. Inside, a figure stands facing the windows, bedecked in extravagant layers. He turns upon sensing movement, and bestows upon Ging a wide, beaming smile.

Ging takes it all in. “I expected nothing less from you.”

“Really?” Pariston holds his arms out, his thin wrists poised above oversized sleeves. “Do you like it?”

“You're bright as ever, Paris,” Ging says.

“Now, Ging.” Pariston's eyes are dark. “You sound like you mean that.”

“You're keeping everyone waiting.” Ging continues idly, as if Pariston's words had no effect on him. As if they hadn't yet even reached his ears. “You shouldn't.”

“And why is that? I wanted to make an entrance. It is the Year of the Rat, after all. Mine doesn't come around but once every twelve years. It is something to celebrate, is it not?”

“Some of us have things to do.” Ging steps further into the office, adjusting the drape of his tabard across his shoulders. “Places to be.”

“Something that could hold even your fickle attention?” Pariston asks. “Now what would that be?”

Ging's mouth ticks up, his eyes shadowed by the brim of his hat as he ducks his head. The gesture is something automatic, instead of an attempt to hide the expression that overcomes him as he seems to remember something with great fondness.

“The migration of the Giant Lachian Elk. I thought I'd go and hunt them.” At Pariston's cluelessness, he continues. “The creatures live deep in the forest. They're almost impossible to find on their own. But once in their lifetime, the entire adult population will journey as one across the Lachian mountain range for natal philopatry, to reach the flank vent of a volcano. You can't hunt them there, either—the air is too caustic for humans to breathe. I think it will make quite a challenge.”

“Giant elk?”

“They're easily twice as tall as you are,” he says. “Dense, and horned. Not what one would expect. The last migration took place over a decade ago.”

“I see.” Pariston once more adjusts his voluminous sleeves. “You really do things your own way, don't you?”

“I always have.” Ging seems affronted for a moment, but relaxes again as Pariston softens his approach. “I see no reason to do it any other way.”

He pauses, and his eyes catch on something beyond Ging's shoulders. “Some would call that selfish.”

Ging only shrugs. Then, he straightens, turning, just quick enough to catch the last few footsteps before Cheadle Yorkshire enters the office. He has a front-row seat to the way her face drops upon catching sight of Pariston's attire.

He is dressed in a haori of impossibly golden fabric, draped perfectly across his body and belted with cloth in a slightly darker, but no less resplendent color. The nagajuban underneath the haori is a matte, almost bloody red, worn higher on the neck than is typical. Her eyes drop to his throat, then rise back up to take in the full ensemble again.

It could almost match his hair, but then he moves and Cheadle catches sight of the metallic thread woven into the fabric. Her forehead twitches.

“You're late,” she says, and her voice comes out strangled. “...Rat.”

Pariston bestows a sunny smile upon Cheadle, and steps more fully around the side of the desk so that she can see him better.

“But of course! Fashionably late, I hope.”

“You're wearing...that...to the meeting?” The desk behind him holds rows of red bags patterned with wishes for the New Years. Cheadle counts eleven among them.

She points an accusing finger at him, then sweeps it towards the bags. “What are those?”

“I know many of us have adopted only the most passing of customs related to this holiday, but I wanted to take the opportunity to celebrate in the traditional way. These are gifts, of course, for the rest of the Zodiacs! They are typically given to more junior members of a family or business, and as I am the Vice-Chairman, you all are my juniors, are you not?”

Pariston laughs, something overly orchestrated, and turns towards Ging. “There is one for you as well, Ging! I had hoped some of you would track me down, so you can help me with carrying them to the office. I could always ask some of the assistants to help, though. I've given the rest of the building's staff their presents already, of course.”

Cheadle is still trying to stifle a scowl as Pariston continues with his speech.

“Envelopes are traditionally used, but my presents were a little bigger than what one could hold! I hope you like them—I picked things out with you all in mind. The envelopes would be kept under your pillow and slept on for seven nights before opening, supposedly to promote good luck and good fortune. I could try to insist everyone sleeps on these, but knowing my coworkers, I don't think anyone would actually do it.”

He pouts, and then brightens. “On the seventh day, everyone grows one year older! Isn't that something?”

“I thought you didn't like this sort of thing,” Ging says to her, shifting on his feet at the sudden attention focused on him, and the affective way Cheadle reacts. “You seem upset.”

“You weren't there, Ging, but our dear Cheadle elected not to celebrate the Year of the Dog, two years ago.”

He seems surprised. “You did nothing?”

“No. I did not.” Her hands are fists at her sides. “Ging.”

“But you wanted to?” His voice is steady, and he tries to catch her gaze, even as her own wavers.

“Yes.”

“Why?” he asks.

“I felt, at the time, that there was pressure to maintain—I mean to say, to keep such frivolous pursuits from interfering with our work. It is easier for you, Pariston—no one expects you to take things so seriously. It was different for me. So I let it pass by.”

She exhales through clenched teeth, and for a moment there is silence. Cheadle collects herself, her face reddening, as if suddenly aware of just what she has said and who she has said it to. Then, she takes another breath, as if emboldened by conviction.

“The passage of time,” Cheadle says at last, “is something to be celebrated. And yet, it feels like loss, sometimes, doesn't it?”

“Sometimes,” Ging echoes.

Cheadle sets her jaw more firmly. “I don't like celebrating that loss.”

Pariston has another placid, fathomless expression on his face, but he turns to his desk and plucks one of the bags from its surface. Characters are drawn on them as if with brushstrokes, but they are otherwise unlabeled, and he draws it into the air with gusto and places it into Cheadle's hands.

“For you. With all of my blessings for the future.” He waits until she takes it to let go.

“Thank you.” She stumbles over the words, as if they taste sour. “Rat.”

He beams at that, and reaches for a second bag to hand to Ging. The other man has already headed towards the doors, both hands shoved in his pockets. “Come on, Cheadle. The Vice-Chairman can surely manage all of those on his own, don't you think?”

“What?” Pariston is despondent, and holds up an armful of bags as they depart; Cheadle feels the beginnings of a laugh forming in her throat.

“Friends! Come back! My grand entrance-! I had plans—”

As they walk, side by side, Ging glances at her out of the corner of his eye. “You know,” he says, after a pause. “You don't need any of these things for good fortune. Traditions provide structure. But friends, and family, and purpose, above all else, do the rest of the work. Do you see that?”

“I'm starting to.” She folds her arms around the bag, its contents shifting. The shape is awkward, and she tries several different ways to carry it before finally hefting it higher in her arms.

“Good luck with your hunt,” she says to him, adding her customary salutation. “Ging.”

“And you as well,” he says.

“What? I'm not hunting anything right now.”

“Then you must. And your fortune will change. That'd be my wish for you, at least.”

This time, the words come much more easily. “Thank you.”

Despite the gloomy weather, and the melancholy she once felt at the arrival of another year, there is instead a feeling of anticipation—an urge to astonish, like Pariston, and a desire to do things her own way, like Ging. She does not like things that are uncertain, and if there is one thing more unknowable than all else, it is the future. But for now, there is a feeling of excitement for what the future will bring, and a sudden warmth in her heart from her surroundings and the encouragement, however offbeat and unexpected, from her friends.

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

Notes:

1) Lachian is a reference to the Lachin Corridor, a mountain range in Azerbaijan. Natal philopatry is the practice of creatures like salmons and loggerhead turtles to return to the place of their birth to breed. There's no recorded evidence of larger animals doing this, but for the Hunter World it'd hardly be the strangest thing out there, lol. Everything else was made up.

2) My knowledge of traditions related to the Lunar New Year is nowhere near exhaustive and here they're meant to be more analogous to a Hunter World counterpart and not a real-life equivalent. According to the order of the Zodiac Twelve, the four years prior to the Year of the Rat would've been Ging, Cheadle, Cluck, and Saiyuu. Post-Pariston would be Mizaistom, Kanzai, and then Piyon, which is why I chose the characters I did to converse in the beginning.

3) The story was inspired by this HxH mobage game picture of Pariston:

4) Thank you for reading! I would appreciate and value your comments.

[writingwitchly]

A matter of… toe?

Can I ask for a oneshot with Sirius with the convo: B: You got a new lip balm? A: Yeah. It smells like strawberries too! Want to smell? B: Sure! *walks closer to kiss her/him* A: *just as B is few inches away* *pulls out the balm in front, making it cover B's nose* Please!! Love you😘 ~ @miss-nerd0905

Pairing: Sirius Black x reader

Word count: 4,1k 

AU: Where the biggest concern sare late Xmas shopping and love. So no war, but still wizards. 

A/N: I will not rant about my writing bc it’s Xmas… Vase Darling, I hope you like it!! I wanted this to be vv Christmassy for you!! tbh, I didn’t fully stick to the prompt (this might be veryyy different from what you expected), but the lip balm’s there lol. Have a jolly holiday!

***

Like every December 23rd, you type Lily’s number on the phone, and hum a jolly tune as the dial tone echoes in your ear.

Ever since you’ve moved on your own in London, going late Christmas shopping with your best friend has become a tradition. Together, you go from shop to shop, searching even the most unknown and hidden ones, to get the most perfect gifts for your friends. And, modestly, you nail every single one, to the point where everyone in your circle of Christmas guests call you the “jingle bell rocking team.”

You let your eyes wander on the gray sky outside through the window, and make a mental note of bringing your scarf along, right as a click announces that someone has picked up the call.

“Hello?”

You were going to scream at your friend in excitement to hurry up, but something in the voice that answered makes it… not hers. It’s deep and raucous.

“Lily?”

A crack, then a pause. Some air faintly blows in the mike, and you perceive that the phone must be moving.

“Y/N?” Now, you do recognize Lily’s voice. Although it still sounds off. And nasal.

“Lily!”

“Y/N…” A cough echoes in the background, so the owner of the other voice must still be in proximity.

“Um… Are you okay?” You risk the stupid question, dreading the obvious answer.

“Well,” She tries to laugh, but her lungs seem to resist the act. “Not really. I… James managed to pass me his flu, this year. But don’t worry, I’ll wear some additional coat and we’ll still go, I’ll be there in-”

Her boyfriend protests in the back, but is stopped by another wave of coughing.

An “oh” escapes your throat, longer than you wanted it. “It wouldn’t be wise to go shopping, if you’re in that state, Lils.” For a moment, she seems to hesitate, so you add, “We want to have you guys whole and in perfect shape for the Christmas Eve party.”

You hope your regret isn’t too evident in your tone.

“James wants to make it alive until then, he’s planned a little fly dressed all in red and whi-”

The raucous voice resounds in the background, clearly irritated, and Lily laughs again, “Seems like I’ve ruined the surprise. Don’t tell anyone,” She giggles again. “Um- Sorry to leave you alone on that.”

“Uh?” Imagining James flying, dressed as Santa Claus, has made you forget anything else for a couple of seconds. “Oh, you mean the shopping. Don’t worry,” You’re not sure the last two words sounded very convincing, but you still continue, “I’ll ask someone else to come. Maybe Dorcas.”

“Er- Her and Mary have choir rehearsal for the fundraising,” Lily reminds you.

The sky outside seems to become a little darker.

“Shoot. Remus then.”

“You know that today-”

“He works until late. And Marlene’s at her family’s until tomorrow.” You bite your lip, “Peter?”

“Is it grocery shopping you plan to do?”

Peter and his love for Christmas sweets… He’d stop you at every corner to get a new type of candy.

“Kingsley?”

But you erase that possibility on your own: he isn’t one to walk the whole day around looking for funny socks or the perfect make up set.

You sight in exasperation. This is why it’s always Lily and you who take care of the holiday shopping.

Half as a joke, half out of desperation, you suggest, “Dumbledore?”

There is a loud snort -- which sounded more like a snore -- surely from James, and then Lily mutters something that you can’t hear.

“Lily?”

Shuffling in the background.

“I- James says- He says that you should probably ask Sirius to come.”

“Sirius?” you repeat, not convinced to have heard right. You hope you haven’t.

You’re not 100% sure, but you heard James repeat his mate’s name at the same time as you, and in the exact same surprised tone.

After a second, the man’s laughter is muffled by Lily’s hand on the mike. She tells him something, and he answers back between two sneezes, but you can’t understand anything except for ‘-toe.’

“Toe?”

Lily’s voice comes back, “What?”

“Nothing,” you mutter, this time convinced that you have heard wrong. “So, you guys say, Sirius?”

No, no, no.

“Well, yeah. Usually, he can’t go because he takes care of James’ seasonal flu, but now I can do that…”

“Mmmm…”

“Call him, Y/N, he’s your last hope. I’ll manage to take care of my boyfriend and resist the urge to hex him.”

“Are you sure that Sirius is the right guy to give advice on Muggle shopping?”

And that I won’t make a fool of myself around him?

“I- Uh…” Lily stutters, and pauses a second to hear what James has to say. “Well, if you say so, Potter.” She focuses back on you, “James is positive about it, Y/N,” Which one? The shopping thing, or the fool thing? You’d like to be sure about the latter. “And- I left some soup on the stove,  so- we don’t want the house burning down, do we. Gotta go!”

Is it you, or does her voice sound much healthier than before? “Wait, Lily-!”

“We’ll see you guys tomorrow!”

Before she hangs up, James’ voice reaches you, but very confusedly.

Again, did he say toe?

***

Getting Sirius to come shopping with you was easier than you thought. A call, and he apparated on the front step before you had a chance to put your boots on. Even keeping your composure in his presence is revealing itself quite easy, despite the fact that you’re alone with him for the first occasion in a very long time.

The tough stuff is making him follow you through Muggle London without losing him in the crowd.

“What about that?” you ask, eyeing a novel with a bright blue cover. It reads ‘In Love With an Idiot’, and Lily would absolutely wheeze only at the title. “Do you think that James would be offe- Sirius?” You shoot a glance behind your shoulder, only to discover that the man has disappeared again. “Oh, for Merlin’s sake.”

Struggling to hold the multiple packs under your arms, you move to the side of the pedestrian street, and climb on a bench, under the glare of an old lady. Feeling dizzy because of the bright passing scarves and hats, you lose one good minute in finding the mane of black locks that towers above the surrounding passerbys.

Completely obvious of the world around him, the boy’s observing the vitrine of a toy shop, whose sign’s colorful light reflects on his recently shaved cheeks.

“Sirius!” Your cry of frustration scares the glaring old lady away, but at least it’s successful in making your friend come back to reality.

Smirking, Sirius makes his way back to you, pushing people aside with the dozens of bags he carries, and attracting himself many dark looks.

“Afraid I’d leave you, Y/N?”

“No,” you sigh, wondering at what age Sirius has stopped growing up mentally, “Afraid to lose half of the gifts. What were you looking at?”

“Crazy how the Muggles manage to make things move without magic. There was a small train riding on its own!” His grin widens, and you have to tilt your head up to have a good sight of his childish expression.

Godric, he’s so tall. And so handsome.

Shut up, Y/N.

“But it looked quite unrealistic,” he continues, unaware of your internal dialogue, “There was no smoke.”

“It’s normal,” you say, “It works with batteries, a clever way of producing energy without-”

But Sirius craning his neck in direction of another shop stops you mid-sentence. It won’t be long until he goes off your sight again.

Merlin, he’s worse than Peter.

“No, Black, no such thing again. We’re almost done, I don’t plan on spending the night here.”

To prevent him from going away again, and prevent the lost of the dozen of bags he carries, you link an arm with his. And immediately feel your cheeks lighting up.

Thankfully, he looks away. And you badly hope it’s not because he saw you blushing.

“Nice weather,” he mutters, right as you say, “It’s freezing cold.”

Had it happened earlier, you would have laughed and argued, but now a strange tension seems to have fallen on the two of you.

“So er- those… baggeries,” he says hesitantly. “Do Muggles use them only for tiny trains or-”

You smile shyly, relieved by his clumsy attempt at building a conversation, but suddenly find yourself unable to explain anything about bagge- batteries. So you just correct his pronunciation and laugh the question away.

Something in the way Sirius looks and behaves has changed since your Hogwarts years. He is much more mature, and much less of a troublemaker. He hasn’t lost his mischievous sparkle, of course -- not even after death will he --, but he uses it more consciously.

The last time you two have been alone together before today was… three years and a half ago?

During the graduation party, you had found yourself sitting alongside the dance floor, immersed in nostalgic flashes of your school years, when Sirius had come to ask you for a dance. He saw it as only another moment of fun, but something clicked in your head when he grabbed you by the waist.

You saw memories of how you had started liking him in first year, how his sarcastic remarks were actually something you looked forward to get angry at everyday, how his lousy humor and deep sense of loyalty were his most attracting traits, how his hair falling on his eyes made you daydream.

You also saw the fact that you were about to step in the adults’ world, and maybe part ways.

So, drunk in melancholy and honeywine, you were about to tell him what you had hid for seven years in a row.

But, right at that moment, a group of girls passed by, eyeing him shamelessly and giggling like three-years-olds. It was already hard to swallow the fact that you were infatuated with the most popular guy in a range of ten kilometers, but when he asked you, in the middle of the song, if you’d mind if he invited one of them to dance, you lost your breath.

“Of course not,” you answered, surprising yourself at how easy the lie had come out of your mouth.

He had paused, looked at you for a second, and left you alone in the middle of the room to join the group of girls.

At that moment, lost in your feelings, you had seen through his: you were nothing more than a friend to him.

Some heavy darkness had engulfed you, and that had been the last time you’d accepted to be alone with him. Until today.

You have spent three years muffling your heart’s complaints under tons of good will, in the name of your friendship, and in respect for his opinion.

Caught in the worry of not being able to buy your friends their gifts, you did not think twice about it, earlier, but now…

It seems dangerous to walk next to him.

Around you, the street is getting busier of other people who, like you, have opted for a last-minute gift-search. Fake Santas shake their bells, making teens giggle, and women with babies look in adoration at them. A couple of parents hold their children by the hand, dragging them toward a house shop, while the kids clearly feel like stopping in front of a cozy bar. There is a Frank Sinatra song playing somewhere near the place at the end of the way, and the crispy notes of his deep voice fill every corner of the jolly atmosphere.

A draught of winter air caresses your face, making you shiver.

“About time to go, don’t you think?” you suggests, tightening the scarf around your neck.

“Well- De we have everything we need?” Sirius hesitates, so you start recounting the bags,

“We’ve got Marlene’s sweater, Alice’s scented candles, Kingsley’s sock set-”

“A complete,” Sirius interrupts you “collection of Queen’s best hits for James - that sucker better repay me later, this costed like one of my eyes - a maxi sized pot of skittles for Dumbledore, a horrible pair of socks for Frank, and some catnip for Minnie. Remus’-”

“Catnip?” you raise an eyebrow. “Oh please, don’t tell me you’ve-”

“No, I haven’t left the tea behind, we have that too. I just thought it’d be nice to add some catnip,” he finishes, with a big grin stamped across his face, and you roll your eyes.

“I checked everything on the  list that Lily and I have made, so we have everything. I think we can stop.”

“Are you sure?” Sirius asks, and you think you discern some deception in his words. Is it really possible that-

But your running imagination must be tricking you.

“Quite sure, I-” You slap a hand on your forehead, attracting a curious look from a seven-years-old passing by.  “I was forgetting, as always!” you claim, “We’re not done yet.”

Sirius eyes you, and you see a reflection of the little boy’s expression on his face. And maybe a brighter twinkle in his stare.

“We were forgetting about our own gifts,” you explain, to which he breaks into a snort.

“What’s the plan, then? We choose our gift, and we’ll act as if it’s a surprise on Eve’s dinner?” he asks.

You shake your head. “You choose something for me, I’ll pick something for you. No right to show the other, so-” You realize what you’re going to say, and regret it a bit. “So- It’s better if we part ways now, anyway. I have- I have to meet Mary and Dorcas for a trip to the library,” you say, raising your stare from the floor to look at him straight in the eyes.

Sirius’ lips purse in a thin line, and he nods in understanding.

You slow your pace down, and come to a halt. After a second of uncomfortable pause, you unlink your arm from his, and, for a moment, you face each other, unsure of how to say goodbye.

“See you tomorrow, then,” Sirius half-heartedly says.

“Yeah,” you respond.

The crazy thought of a hug crosses your mind, but you turn on your heels before giving in to the temptation. 

You’re already a good fifteen meters away, when his voice flies to you, “It was a nice shopping session, Y/N! Thank you!”

You swing around, and smile before the crowd swallows him.

***

“You tricked me.”

Zipping her golden top, Lily doesn’t deign you of a look. “I don’t see what you’re talking about, darling.”

“Spare me your terrible lying capacity, Lily. Just- Let’s set aside the fact that you’ve broken our tradition, and that I felt treasoned, but-” You run a hand on your face, looking for proper words to make you sound less lame than what you are. “You know that it’s hard for me to be in the same room as him, and you made it more awkward by setting this up.”

“I didn’t s-”

“Oh come on!” you cry, frustrated. “He was ready when I called! And you do sound like you healed very quickly.”

The decorations on the walls and the snow falling outside make Lily and James’ living room look like a gigantic snowball.

“I- Ok, I’m not as sick as I was yesterday morning, but… I th-”

“You have no right to play the matchmaker, Lily... You know very well how much I struggled to make the pain go away!”

“The both of your are so much more mature recently.”

“So? I can’t make him fancy me, if he doesn’t want to! No matter if he gets as mature as Remus.”

“You’re so stubborn, Y/N! If you don’t try, you’ll never get anything!”

From the doorframe, James chuckles, “Take me as an example: I managed to date my fierce redhead after seven years of-”

“James!” you both scream, and the man raises his hands in defence, going back to drinking his medicinal tea. He can barely stand up, wrapped in the tons of coverts that are supposed to protect his fragile health from yet another cold, but he wouldn’t miss your discussion if he got paid for it: you get better than his favorite telenovellas, when you’re in that mood.

“If you ever tell him any of this-” you look at him, menacing.

With his mouth full of the infusion, James mimics somebody promising, and then walks out of the room, in look of a more peaceful environment. He does that every time he senses the storm going toward him.

“All I want is you to be happy, Y/N. I swear you need to be blind not to notice that Sirius likes you.”

“I’m- Please, don’t make it harder, Lily. I appreciate your encouragements, but I worked hard on making these feelings disappear, and-”

“We both know you still like him, Y/N. How many times will I have to tell you.” She rolls her eyes. “I am going to get you two together before this New Year, or I’ll rename myself Gertrudis. And you can’t change my mind.”

With nothing to answer to that, you sigh, only waiting for the moment when you’ll get to call your best friend Gertrudis.

***

“Nothing better than a sweet gathering with friends for Christmas,” Remus says as he pops the bottle of honeywine open. Behind him, the fire cracks in the chimney.

From across the living room, Frank, his arm around Alice’s shoulders, laughs, “You say that every year, Rems.”

Kingsley comes in the scarred boy’s defence, “It’s worth repeating, Longbottom. Anyway, I’d rather hear Remus say it a thousand more times than to have to listen to James’ drunk jokes at the end of the meal.”

The mentioned boy fakes a pout, and Sirius, who’s lying on the floor at his feet, plays with a red cap, that will be useless this year: Flying Santa Potter Show has been moved to next year, because of ‘health issues’, to Peter’s great regret.

“I wonder how you’re still sneezing enough to make that whole building fall down, James, while Lily’s wearing a mini skirt.” The bitterness in your voice can only be understood by James, and by his girlfriend. “From how she sounded on the phone yesterday, she was about to die.”

At those words, Lily gets out of the kitchen, followed by Dorcas, and shoots you a smile, “Onion soup does miracles on me,” she winks, and turns toward the man spread on the carpet, “Sirius, please be a sweetheart, and give Y/N a hand to bring the rest of the starters on the table.”

And here we go again.

Noticing your annoyed groan, Marlene slightly smiles.

“I hope the floor’s clean,” she murmurs to Lily, “Because I have that feeling that we’ll have to pick the starters up from the tiles. What did you do to piss her off?”

“Just wait,” the redhead whispers back, “And you’ll see.”

***

In the background, Celestina Warbeck threatens to drown you all in a cauldron full of hot love.

Sirius is handing you some plastic plates, on which you lay tiny canapes. The only reason that prevents you from dropping them on the floor in vengeance is their very appetizing look. And the fact that you’ve spent hours dressing them.

The soft buzzing of conversation coming from the living room warms your heart: having friends like yours is the highlight of your life. Ruining the mood by confronting romantical feelings to just friendship would be… awfully wrong.

“Any plans for New Year’s Eve, Y/N?”

“Uh?”

Sirius smiles at you from the other side of the table, a plate full of mini croissants in each hand. “Do you have plans for New Year’s Eve?”

You tilt your head. “Just- our usual gathering. Why?”

The man shrugs. “Maybe you wanted to do something different, I don’t know.” And he grins again. “You tell me, if you want some change, okay?”

“Sure.”

Perplex because of his strange request, you come back in the core room of the party a little distracted, sensing that something is weird.

You scan your friends’ faces, but don’t notice anything out of place, so give up  your strange presentment.

***

Soon, it’s time to unwrap.

As everyone discovers their gifts -- and shares drunk jokes, much to Kingsley’s dismay -- you step in a corner, holding a pink package in the palm of your hand. The ribbon itself is bigger than the box.

“What is it?” Sirius’ sudden presence behind your back makes you start.

“What do you mean, what is it?” From the corner of your eye, you notice Lily staring at you, and then whispering something in James’ ear. “Didn’t you buy it?”

The man scratches his neck. “I’m not the best at choosing Muggle gifts, let along for a girl. So I asked the salesgirl to give me the cutest item she had and-” He points to the half-unwrapped box in your hands. “I’m about to discover what it is at the same time as you.”

His breath on your neck makes your fingers tremble, but you rip the remnants of colorful paper off the present, and reveal a-

“Lip balm?” you ask, surprised.

Sirius only nods, with half a smile. “Looks like it.”

Carefully, you extract the round container from the wrapping, grinning at how cute it is, indeed. You delicately brush a finger on the surface, and press it to your lips.

“Mmm… It smells like strawberries!”

“Really?” Sirius casually steps closer to you.

“Uh- Want to smell?” you ask, trying to remain composed.

“Sure!”

You were about to pass him the container. You were about to. 

But, under your unbelieving stare, Sirius leans forward, until he’s only inches apart from your mouth, and closes his eyes.

A little lamp lights up in your head: that something that was wrong when you exited the kitchen, James’ repeated mention of a ‘toe’ during yesterday’s call… Right above your head, you see it.

It happens all so fast, that you can barely register your own movements.

***

“You what?”

Lily, shivering in her skirt, is gaping at you. She ran after you as soon as you left the apartment in a hurry, and managed to catch you right as you were exiting the building.

“I panicked” You cry, still shocked yourself, and starting to feel like the dumbest person ever, ever, ever.

Your best friend blinks very slowly. “You- Are you doing this to make me lose the bet? Because that’s the only explanation I will accept, Y/N!”

The scene repeats itself endlessly in your mind as the snowflakes sprinkle your hair. Sirius, centimeters away from your lips. The balm suddenly put in front of him, covering his nose. His surprised look. Your run away.

“I don’t know, I-”

“You don’t know?” Her eyes clearly say ‘I’m about to kill you if you don’t give me a good reason for leaving the perfect romantical scene out of the blue’.

“Listen! If I wasn’t sure that he now thinks I’m the most idiotic fool in this world, I’d run back upstairs and kiss him right where I left him!” you scream.

You hope that none of the neighbors had planned to go to bed early.

“Glad you would-” A voice comes from an open window, three floors above. A pair of large glasses is looking down at you, surrounded by all your friend’s faces.

“James! Fucking get inside, don’t make your flu even worse!” shouts Lily.

“- because,” her boyfriend ignores her, “I doubt he’d be happy to have ran down the stairs for nothing!”

Right as he finishes his sentence, the building’s door opens, and lets out a very confused Sirius. Quickly, Lily disappears inside.

The world stops spinning, and you lose the capacity to breathe. Your knees threaten to give up under the weight of the tension that installs itself on your shoulders.

Merlin, if I could die right on the spot.

“I’m sorry if I-” Sirius takes a step forward, but stops right away, and lowers his head. “It was stupid of me, I’m very sorry.”

Seemingly unable to distinguish between what happens in your head, and what you’re actually doing in this moment, you walk toward him.

“What do you mean, you’re sorry?” The temperature of your cheeks climbs up vertiginously, and it costs you an incredible effort to articulate. “I’m the one who ran away.”

And you’re standing in front of him, close enough to see the grey of his eyes reflecting the streetlamp light.

“I like you a lot, you know.” His soft whisper knocks the air out of you. “I think I’ve liked you since Hogwarts, but I was too busy being a jerk to notice it.”

Before the moment has a chance to vanish, like a dream, you reach for his lips with yours, standing on your tiptoes.

As Sirius wraps his arms around your waist and deepens the kiss, you can hear the dance of the snowflakes, chorusing with the beating of your hearts. Your breaths become the same mist, and your bodies tell the same story. The story of two young people in love.

Above your heads, a green branch has been fixed with some tape from a windowsill of the third floor, and is gently being hugged by the breeze.

“Look at those two,” Winter seems to whisper, “Finally kissing under the mistletoe.”

***

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