#vics holiday prompts

[spenglercore]

So, I found out today that my department will no longer exist as of January 1st 2025, and that is all anyone will tell us! Joy!

Anyway, have a bit of fic I managed to bang out in the Michael's parking lot. This is fairly late in the fic, after Vic's family life sort of. Ceased to exist. This is Vic's first year alone for the holidays and Egon can tell it's weighing on her a lot, possibly based on things she's said but also just her overall attitude and body language, I haven't gotten that far yet.

She looked surprised at his invitation to spend the day with him essentially at work, but the expression was fleeting, quickly replaced with the subtly tired, distant look she'd had since the beginning of November.

"You really sure you want to spend the day with me?" She asked.

"Yes."

"You know I'm not exactly good company right now."

Her reply was tinged with a self-disparaging bitterness that made him wish he could punch her father again, and aim to break one or more bones in the man's face this time. In lieu of an assault charge and the legal sundries that usually accompanied such a thing, Egon settled for continuing the present conversation.

"Good or not, you still deserve company. If that's what you want." He quickly tacked on.

Victoria rolled her eyes and scoffed.

"Yeah? In what universe?"

"Mine."

Shit.

He hadn't intended his response to sound that...romantic. His irritation at the source of Victoria's depressive state coupled with his desire to make her feel better had prompted him to reply without the thought he usually gave to his words; to quote a colloquialisim he heard now and then, his heart had gotten in the way of his head.

And now he was left cursing his momentary lapse in self-control and, when Victoria's head snapped up in surprise, scrambling for a way to ensure that his impromptu romantic overture was anything but. She had a place with everyone at the firehouse, not just him, and she quite literally lived with Janine.

That could work...

"And Ray," he continued, after a pause that came too close to being awkward for comfort. "And Peter, and Winston, and Janine, both physically and socially. Ray wasn't being hyperbolic when he said we're your family now; we aren't genetically related, but we don't have to be in order to have empathy and support you as needed."

Victoria opened her mouth, but before she could say anything - likely in protest - he held up his hand to stop her.

"And in my professional opinion, you need support right now."

[newvisionplumbingsolutions]

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[sunflowersteves]

𝒏𝒂𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ❅ 𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒍𝒕

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: Geralt likes to punish you when you’re being naughty.

author’s note: this isn’t very holiday themed but i hope you all still enjoy!

warnings: fluff, afab fic, SMUT!!! a little degradation, dom/sub, edging, semi-public sex in snow dont @ me ok, [18+ only]

holiday prompts m.list

Heavy blankets of snow covered the small village whole, prompting everything to look as though it was a winter wonderland. Even the wood-burning fireplaces couldn’t stop the cold from towering over and leaving valleys full of little snowflakes.

Usually, you and Geralt would be situated in one of the pubs, relaxing with a nice pint of ale. Jaskier would be near you, most likely right beside the fire as he strummed sweet tunes. Yennefer would have her arm around you, swaying gently to the music. 

But that wasn’t tonight, no.

Tonight, you were pressed up against the outside of the pub while the cold air hit the base of your cheeks.

Geralt was peppering kisses up and down your neck, occasionally stopping to bite down on that sensitive spot. 

“What you pulled in there was unacceptable, sweet girl.”

Throughout the whole night, you had been teasing Geralt. It first started with a hand on his knee, occasionally squeezing around him in comfort. Slowly but surely, your hand started to move up to the inside of his thigh. 

He had sent you plenty of glares, but every time you’d act like nothing was wrong. Your hand even got to the point where you kept grazing his semi-hard cock. That’s when he had had enough and practically shoved out of the pub.

And now here you were, back aching from the hard wooden wall and nose runny from the cold. Some snowflakes instantly melted when they hit your hair and skin, while gusts of wind blew through you and your Witcher. 

It wasn’t ideal to be fucking in the middle of a snowstorm, but you didn’t have very many options. At least the powerful storm could hide your desperate pleas and whines. 

But your body still felt fiery, as though the cold wasn’t even there—the heat radiating off of Geralt was practically scorching.

His hands rested on your hips as his tongue ran along your collarbone, sucking just enough to make you whine. 

“I know what you were doing, pretty girl. You wanted me to take you out here in the cold and fuck you senseless, hmm?”

You could only let out a whimper as his hand trails slowly down to your throbbing core. He lifted the ends of your dress, your legs fully wrapped around his waist. His hands explored the crevasses of your legs; the rough calloused hands make you shiver as poke and prod. 

“Answer me.”

You hated how much control he had over you, your body and mind already melting into him as his lips connect just below your jawline. You hated how much you wanted him—needed him, so fiercely that it burned. 

“Yes. I-I wanted you fuck me out here, I—”

His hand was dangerously close to the slit of your entrance. His mind became almost foggy as his abilities picked up the sweet smell of your cunt. His finger teases the beginning of your slit, a gruff moan leaving his lips. You were already so wet. 

“Good. Then that’s what you’ll get.”

He inserts his middle finger, and you yelp in surprise, watching as it easily slides in and out of your folds. You couldn’t believe that he let you go without being punished, just immediately giving you what you want. However, you weren’t going to question it. 

The squelching sounds would normally be louder, but he could hear it, his cock twitching at it. A smirk rests on his lips as he stares into your half-closed eyes. His finger brings you no mercy, just pounding over and over and over again. 

His hands always pleased you to no end, filling you up so nicely. One of his fingers was like three of yours, hitting every single spot you couldn’t. 

Your walls clench around him as he inserts another finger, thick and wide as he fucks you relentlessly. Your hands move to grip his forearm, nails digging into the surface of his skin. You let out garbled sounds, on the edge of being a cross between a moan and a whimper. 

“Geralt, please!”

“What do you say, little flower, hmm?”

You opened your mouth, but it just hung open, whines and whimpers leaving it. You were so unbelievably close, your core aching for some type of relief. Your slick had covered his whole hand, and you could almost see the end, the sweet euphoric end. 

“I’m s-sorry, Geralt. Please, please, let me cum. Please!”

But then, he stops.

You whine loudly, your body thrashing slightly to see if there was any sort of friction. You wanted to hate him so fucking badly. That bastard had taken away your pleasurable bliss. It was all because you had teased him a little in public, and that set fire in your bones. 

“Oh, little flower, did you think you could get out of punishment that easily?”

Your eyes widened, “Geralt, p-please, I’ll be good. I’ll be so good for you and your cock—”

He tsked, pressing sweet little kisses along your chest. But you knew better, you knew it was all a rouse. He was ruthless; he was unrelenting. He gave you everything, all at once, to then take it away like it never happened.

“Please! Please, let me feel your cock inside me. I-I need it!”

He has the audacity to chuckle, “begging won’t get you anywhere this time, little flower.”

He drew achingly slow circles on your clit, letting your desperate whines fill the air. Your body squirmed and wiggled, desperate for anything and everything more than what he was giving you. But he wouldn’t comply, he wouldn’t give into you. 

“You look so divine like that, little flower, just begging for my fingers to get you off.”

It felt like it had been a millennium by the time he started rubbing faster, sometimes pinching and grabbing the swollen nub.

He’d smirk every single time it made you jump; his eyes never left yours. He was intoxicating, the atmosphere around you was completely taken over by him. 

You were getting close again, he could tell. Your face was screwed up, gasps and pants leaving your beautiful lips. Your pleading never ceased, even if you knew it didn’t get you anywhere. You knew he loved it when you begged. 

“Are you close, little flower? Do you want to soak my fingers?” 

You nodded, wantonly mewling at his fingers seemingly deeper and deeper inside of you.

But then he stopped, again.

“Such a pity I won’t let you.”

He let you plead over and over again, the smirk never leaving his features. He watched you beg so desperately that pre-cum spilled onto his trousers. You were such a sight, and yet he didn’t give you what you wanted. 

“You brought this on yourself. You will face the consequences of your actions, little flower.”

He did it five more times, out in the blizzarding cold. Five times of giving you the brink of an orgasm to then take it away like you were just something to play with.

He enjoyed it, that much you could tell. There was a twinkle in his golden eyes when he watched you so utterly dire to feel anything. 

Your body was almost entirely frozen. It probably would have if Geralt’s body heat didn’t protect you. You honestly should probably go inside and get warm again, even drinking some of Jaskier’s hot chocolate to feel the hot spices rest in your belly. 

But gods—you didn’t give a fuck. You didn’t care less if you got frostbite or froze to death. All you wanted was for Geralt to fuck you senseless. You were getting tired; your body was limp now from all of the teasing and tantalizing. 

Your cunt was leaking, slick spread all around your thighs and even on your hiked up dress. Your clit throbbed, your cunt ached. It was torture to feel this way, to feel the pure anguish of Geralt’s punishment.

Tears sprung to your eyes, and Geralt never missed it, a feigned pout on his lips. You started to beg again, but this time your desolation became prevalent and loud.

“Please,” your voice became weak, “No more teasing, Geralt. I need you. I need to feel you. I-I can’t —”

You don’t know when he sprung his hard cock out and shoved it inside of you, but he was pounding into you, fast and hard. You mewl once again, the feeling almost unreal. You were finally getting what you wanted. 

“Have I been too mean to my sweet girl? Was I being too harsh, hmm?”

You nodded as he picked up the pace, slamming into you while you’re trying to grab at his broad, large shoulders to brace yourself. 

“Fuck, you feel so good, so warm and tight.”

Your back was going to hurt tomorrow, you just know it will. You’d been up against it for what felt like an eternity. He was deep inside of you, his eyes darting from the look on your face to watching his cock disappear in your cunt. Your walls clamp around him, nails digging even harder onto his back. 

“Cum for me, my love. I want to feel you cum on my cock.”

Your screams become louder in the air as he hits just the right angle, over and over. You try and brace yourself as your walls flutter. Hearing his low moans of your cunt milking him was getting all too much, the coil immediately snapping. It hits you hard, his name the only thing that comes out of your mouth like it was a prayer. 

Watching you come undone so ferociously and hard made his cock twitch. He knew he wasn’t far behind you. Your screams never ceased as he continued to drive into you, hips slightly stuttering as he released into you. 

Your body was fully limp now on the snowy ground. You didn’t want to move, your eyes becoming heavy. He lets out a small content sigh, trying to clean you up the best he can. He was especially gently over sensitive areas, knowing that it might sting. 

He picks you up into his arms and pressed a light kiss to your temple. The snow falls lightly onto his hair, his warm body just now picking up how cold you’ve become since you laid across the ground. 

His heart soared as you snuggled closer into his chest, “let’s go back inside, little flower.”

witcher: @harrysthiccthighss​ @borkingbarnes​ @dreams-of-sunlight-and-starfire

permanent: @captainchrisstan​ @angstysebfan​ @teenagereadersciencenerd​ @rebekahdawkins​ @hailmary-yramliah​ @buckybarnesplumwhore​ @stardust-galaxies​ @wiccanmetallicrose​ @keithseabrook27​ @hereforthesunrise​

[illicitlimerence-writes]

summer of love | m. verstappen

pairing: max verstappen x singer!actress!reader word count: 3.1k words request: yes by anon: “singer actress reader having a close bond with max's whole family? also his little siblings and nephews 🥺 and max watches on lovingly as she plays with them and realizes that he wants this with her?” prompt: long car rides with the windows down + catching waves + picking up cute seashells from this prompt list. warnings: not proofread! babies! language probably. i don’t know what else lolol it’s 3am and i want to sleep but i just couldn’t wait to finish this. apologies if you find a mac instead of max or a luca instead of luka lol i tried my best but autocorrect is a bitch a/n: we’re done with this!!!!!! i’m so happy!!!!! i hope you all liked these little summer stories<33 also i just can't stop writing for these two. i love them with all my being

my masterlist / summer of love masterlist / part one of the max x singer!actress reader / part two / part three

for the final week of holidays, she and max traveled back to europe, wanting to get used to the time difference. 

they’d rented a villa in spain so max’s family could join them. ever since she met max’s mom and sister, they welcomed her in their lives, first as his friend and then as his everything.

someone who she was excited to meet were his nephews. due to conflicting schedules between all of them she hadn’t had the chance to meet max’s mini twins yet. but from the pictures max had proudly shown her, she was already in love with them. 

“mom says they just landed,” max announced as he walked out to the garden, where she sat by the edge of the pool, her legs in the water. “they’ll be here in like two hours,”

“and the boys?” she asked immediately, her hand reaching for his once he sat next to her. 

“fell asleep during the plane ride, but vic says they’re excited.”

“exicted to see you,” she guessed, a smile making its way to her face. “i can’t wait to meet them. you think they’ll like me?”

“of course they’ll like you!” he chuckled, throwing an arm over her shoulders, “they’re the sweetest boys,”

“i know. and i know you love them to death, that’s why i worry that-”

“you don’t have to worry. they’ll love you. okay?”

“okay,” she nodded, placing her head on max’s shoulder. 

-

she stayed back as she watched max embrace his sister, she looked gorgeous as ever, with her two boys on a double stroller. max let go of her, kneeling in front of his nephews as he undid the belts. victoria went outside to grab her and the boys’ bags just as luka jumped out, wrapping his tiny arms around max’s neck, which caused max to fall on his back with the boy on top of him. she chuckled, noticing how lio wanted to get out of the stroller as well. she walked to him, kneeling next to max and luka as max sat up, and helped lio, placing him on her lap. luka noticed her, and she could feel his curious eyes on her. 

“hi, luka.” she smiled at him, reaching for his hand. the boy leaned against max.

“it’s okay. this is (y/n), she wants to be your friend,” max explained, his voice soft as he spoke to his nephew, meanwhile the youngest boy had taken great interest in her bracelets and was playing with them. luke looked up at max, and her breath got caught in her throat as she saw the resemblance between the two, well, three of them. big blue eyes, chubby cheeks, the same blonde hair.

“friend?” the boy repeated, or tried to, and the two adults nodded. “we play?” he asked.

“of course, we can play whatever you want to.” she smiled, nodding. the baby on her lap started fuzzing, so she had to turn her attention to him. “and i can play with you too, lio. we’ve got time,”

-

the quiet of the villa when it was just the two of them had disappeared. now there was music, laughter and the sound of two small boys playing with their uncle. it had been two days, and her fears of the boys not liking her were long gone. after the shyness of the first meeting, luka had quickly trusted her and handed her toys so she’d play with him. first, max had been there to make sure the boy knew he was safe with her, but with time luka felt enough at ease to do it himself.

things were easier with the younger boy, as long as she kept him entertained, he was fine with spending time with her. 

a few days before their time in spain was up, victoria and her boyfriend announced they had to leave earlier than expected, and (y/n) could tell that max was feeling pretty down about it. just the day before, they’d made plans to take the boys to the beach, just the four of them.

“we’ll have other chances,” she told max, running her fingers through his hair, pushing it away from his face. it was late, everyone was asleep, but max kept turning on the bed, and she knew something was up. 

“i know,” he nodded, “i was just really looking forward to it, and i’d promised them i’d take them. they didn’t even see the things we got them,”

“well, we can still go to the beach just us,” she tried to lift his spirits up, her insides turning at how much he truly cared about keeping his promise to his nephews. “it won’t be the same, i know, but we’ll see them again next week. and the next,” max’s two home races were one after the other, and his whole family agreed to be there to support him. “you should sleep, we’ll figure something out tomorrow. okay?”

“yeah,” he sighed, placing a kiss on her shoulder.

“just remember that the boys will love you even if you don’t take them to the beach,”

“i know,” he sighed, throwing his arm over her, pulling her close so her back was against his chest. 

-

“leave the boys,” was the first thing max told his sister the next morning.

“what?” she frowned, as she zipped up her bag.

“the boys. leave them here, with me and (y/n).”

“and you’re going to take care of them? two boys under two?” she raised her eyebrows.

“i mean… i’ve done it before,” he shrugged.

“for like… fifteen minutes,”

“please! i wanted to take them to the beach today, and we bought them some new toys and stuff for the beach,”

“i don’t know, i-”

“we’ll take good care of them! i promise. they’ll have the best time. and you can take care of whatever you have to without having to worry about them.”

“oh, i will worry,” max rolled his eyes at his sister, making her laugh. “why are you so adamant about this?”

“it’s just… i’ve missed them.” he shrugged, “and they’re starting to open up to (y/n)...”

“and?” his sister urged him to continue, sensing there was still something he wasn’t telling her.

“and i like… seeing her with them. and if we take care of the boys it might… we’ll have some practice- for… our future,”

“max,” the younger verstappen’s eyes went wide, “you want to have kids?” she couldn’t hold back a smile, having children was a topic max always avoided whenever he could, she was surprised that this time he was the one bringing it up.

“i- not right now, obviously. but maybe… one day? if she wants to,”

“but do you want to?”

“i- i… with her, yes. only with her… i want everything with her. and- i know it’s soon, so, so soon, but- i’ve never felt this way before. it’s hard to explain.”

“you’re in love.” she smiled, placing a hand on her brother’s shoulder. 

“i think i’ve loved her since the day i met her, it’s… everything is easy with her. and i feel like as long as she’s by my side i can… do anything. everything.”

“oh, max,” victoria smiled, wrapping her arms around her older brother, “i’m so happy for you. you deserve to be happy, and-”

“vic! vic, vic, i have an idea!” their moment was interrupted by (y/n), who ran into the room, holding both boys in her arms. she in her tracks as she saw the siblings embrace each other. “shit! sorry, i’ll be back later!”

“no, it’s okay. what’s up?” victoria said, keeping an arm around her brother’s shoulders.

“i was thinking… what if we, max and i, take care of the boys for you?” she raised her eyebrows, “that way they can still enjoy the beach and you’ll have a few days to yourselves,” her smile was wide, as if she’d just come up with the greatest plan.

victoria sent her brother a knowing glance.

“i think that’s a wonderful idea. what do you say lio? luka? you’ll stay with uncle max and auntie (y/n)?” 

-

“boys are buckled in. snacks are packed. toys are ready. we’ve got sunscreen, water, diapers. i think we’re ready,” she said, closing the door once she got in. 

“let’s go then. who wants to go to the beach?” max asked his nephews, turning his head back to look at them. he was happy to see them smiling, dressed in swimming shorts, sunglasses on. 

he started the car, the ac blasting on, music playing. she’d added a playlist victoria made of songs the boys liked to her phone, and was surprised to see so many of her own songs in it.

after the first few beats of her song, luke started mumbling, trying to say the words, following the rhythm.

“you like that, luka?” she smiled as she looked back, the boy’s blue eyes shining as he kept singing, his legs kicking in excitement. “oh, you’re my favorite boys!” she turned back to look at max, “he knows my songs!” she chuckled, grabbing her phone to record the moment. “sing it, luka, you too, lio!” she laughed, and started singing too. luka stopped mumbling, a frown on his face as he heard her voice. “it’s me, luka! i’m the one singing,”

“he’s starstruck,” max laughed, checking through the rear-view mirror. “keep singing,” max said as he turned the volume down, “i like hearing you sing, too.” 

“ah, for private performances you need to contact my manager,” she snickered, turning the phone towards max to record his eyeroll. 

“you didn’t say anything last night when we pulled out that performance-”

“max! there are children present,” she laughed, as she stopped recording, looking at him, “i swear,” she shook her head.

“oh, you love it. you love me,” he said, keeping one hand on the wheel, the other one finding hers.

“that i do.” she nodded. she gripped his hand,  looking out the window, seeing the beach approaching. 

-

once they picked a perfect spot on the beach, they got all of their things out, sitting the boys on a large beach towel under a sunshade. a stark difference from their relaxation spot in hawaii.

“don’t you two look adorable! look here, we need proof for your mom that you guys are actually having fun,” she grabbed her phone and started taking pictures and videos of them. “there. see? it’s not that hard!”

“or maybe it’s just they’re the greatest boys ever,” max said as he sat down, grabbing lio and sitting him on his lap. 

“ooh, i think it’s time for presents, what do you think?” she said, grabbing a bag where they’d stuffed everything they’d gotten the boys back in hawaii. floaties, things to play with the sand, and two mini surfboards.

“i think we should test these out,” max said grabbing lio’s green surfboard, the baby slapped his hands on the surface, “he agrees,” he smiled, “i told you they’d like them.”

“yeah, i know,” she nodded, “now come on, everybody, let’s put on sunscreen and we can get in the water.” she clapped her hands, reaching for it. once luka was covered in it, she passed the bottle to max, who struggled a bit more with little lio. “here,” she said, sitting luka on her lap and grabbing lio’s hand. she started singing, which distracted the eight-month-old baby, so max could apply a thick layer of sunscreen to his youngest nephew. “team work. we’ve got this, baby,” she chuckled, leaning forward to place a kiss on max’s cheek. “last ones to reach the water lose,” she rushed the words out, grabbing luka’s orange surfboard and running towards the water.

luka started laughing, his little excited laughter gave her butterflies in her stomach. she’d never been the best with kids, but these two were absolute angels. the resemblance to max was a plus. 

“cheat!” max yelled from behind her, lio’s giggle were so loud too. she dared one look back, seeing them closer than she expected.

“nooo, come on, luka, we’ve gotta beat them,” she said, running faster and holding onto the boy a little tighter. “just a few more steps,” she set the boy down so he could run with her. he squealed at the feeling of the sand against his feet, refusing to keep on walking as he enjoyed the cold sand against his skin. “luka, come on,” she chuckled but the boy sat on his bum, grabbing fistfuls of sand, spreading it over his legs. “looks like we’re playing with sand first,” she smiled, shaking her head as she sat with her legs crossed beneath her. “change of plans,” she looked up to see max and lio approach them.

“luka, let’s go in the water, come on.” max tried to convince his oldest nephew to get up, but he was too enthralled by the cold and wet sand.

“you two go ahead, we’ll play here for a bit, yeah?” she suggested, squinting, having forgotten her sunglasses with the rest of their stuff. 

“you sure? we can all stay here and-” max started, but she shook her head.

“i want to see lio on his surfboard. we’ll meet you there in a bit, yeah?” she stood up, sliding her arms around his waist, max wrapped his free arm around her shoulders, bringing her to him and placing his lips on hers. she hummed into the kiss, but it was cut short by lio slapping their cheeks. “okay, mister, no need to be impatient,” she pinched his cheek. 

she sat next to luka, watching out for him as he played freely. in the water, max was trying to keep lio up as he pulled the board with one hand. 

“look at your brother,” she pointed ahead, luka followed her finger, “yay lio!” she clapped for him, and the oldest boy imitated her. she laughed, leaning forward to kiss his temple. “you’re such a good boy, luka.”

max looked at them, and he felt his chest getting warm. if she was this kind and caring about his nephews he couldn’t imagine how she’d be like with their own little nuggets one day. 

“let’s keep catching waves, lio, we’ll get there.” max ran his hand through his youngest nephew’s hair, keeping him pressed against his chest with that arm, pulling the board with his free hand.

-

hours passed, and at some point during the day they switched kids. they played with the boys in the water, using their toys and fun floaties. when the oldest boy started getting tired max carried him out. after changing him out of his wet clothes, max sat with luka on his lap as the boy ate some watermelon, whilst she walked with lio in her arms. once luka was done eating, he leaned his head against max’s chest, his eyelids getting heavy by the second. 

“you sleepy, buddy?” max asked, kissing the top of his head. luka only cuddled closer to him. “come here, let’s sleep for a bit, yeah?” max lied down on his back, placing his nephew on top of him, max closed his eyes once luka’s breathing got even, deep.

“look at this, lio!” she squealed, placing the boy down and sitting next to him. she moved some sand away, grabbing what she’d spotted. “it’s a seashell! here,” she handed it to him. he wrapped his tiny fingers around it, inspecting it. “it’s pretty, isn’t it?” she smiled as he brought his hand down, chucking some of it away like she’d done. “let’s go find some more, than we can bring some for uncle max and luka, yeah?” she extended her arms, the boy crawling to her. “good boy, lio.” she chuckled when the boy crawled to her lap, his hands on her shoulders. “come on, let’s find more seashells,” 

once the sun started going down she thought it was a good time to head home. after getting a few handfuls of seashells she walked back to the spot where max and luka were waiting for them, with lio perched on her hip.

“they’re asleep, lio,” she whispered to the boy, “don’t they look adorable?” she sighed, noticing max’s protective hand on luka’s back, “i think it’s time for an outfit change and a little snack,” she sat next to the sleeping verstappens, lying the baby on the towel, changing him. after that she sat him on her lap. she reached for the cooler where they were keeping all their food and drinks, taking lio’s water bottle and a jar of baby food out. 

once she was done feeding lio. max stirred, frowning as he opened his eyes.

“hey, sleeping beauty,” she laughed as max pressed his hands against his face, being careful with the sleeping boy on top of him.”i think we’re all a little tired,” she said as the baby on her lap yawned. “think we should call it a day?” she asked.

“yeah, i don’t think i can drive like this, though,” he chuckled, looking at her. “you look really pretty,”

“i’m a mess.” she shook her head. “lio and i picked these for you,” she said as she pointed to the sea shells sitting on the other side of the towel.

“thank you. and no, you look… at peace.”

“after spending the day with two under two running around at the beach?” she chuckled, “i don’t know if i would call it peace. although it wasn’t as bad as i had thought, i had fun. and i think they had fun, too.”

“yeah. i think so too. parenting isn’t that hard after all.” max smiled.

“right? we’ve so got this.”

“yeah, we do.” his smile changed, he pursed his lips, deep in thought. 

“one day, though. not now,”

“yeah. one day.” he agreed.

“good. now… let’s get these boys home, i think the car ride will help them sleep some more.”

“yeah, with the sun and the water, i think they’ll sleep through the entire night.”

“like i said, we’ve so got this parenting thing,” she smiled, proud of herself.

-

once everything was packed in the car, she sat behind the wheel, a still sleepy max next to her. she turned on the car, lowering the volume of the music. the ac started blasting on, but she turned it off, choosing instead to let the breeze cool them all as she pressed a button to roll the windows down.

“smells like salt,” max smiled, turning to face her. 

“you don’t like it?” she asked, he shook his head.

“i do. it’s just… peculiar. for some reason i didn’t notice it until now.”

“that’s cause you were smelling babies all day,” she laughed, leaving the beach behind as she drove away. he didn’t reply, only smiled as he turned the volume up a bit, just loud enough to recognize the song.

max fell asleep to the sound of her singing softly. 

she had to deal with three grumpy verstappens once they got home. 

-

@idkiwantchocolatee @yeolsbubbles @amsofftrack

[alohaemora]

THIRTEEN DAYS OF CHRISTMAS

Not sure what to do with yourself during these strange few days between Christmas and New Year's? Are you a fan of Next Gen Harry Potter fanfic?

Relive the holiday spirit with thirteen days' worth of fun, festive Next Gen goodness — seasonal one-shots for each of the thirteen Weasley-Potter grandkids (including Teddy, of course). All chapters feature artwork by the lovely, talented @thecatisdrawing. 🎄 ❄️ ❤️

READ ON AO3.

⬇️ Chapter Breakdown Below the Cut ⬇️

Day 1: Victoire

Genre: Romance/Family Song Prompt: Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas Snippet: Victoire turned to smile down at her own mug of cocoa. It was bright yellow and ceramic, clearly homemade, uneven and chipped in a few places—one of the mugs Teddy had nicked from his grandmother's kitchen, when he and Victoire had first moved to Islington all those years ago. Painted untidily across the surface, in purple capital letters, was the word 'DORA.'

For a long moment, she gazed down at the mug, gently tracing her fingers over the messy handwriting. She could picture it vividly—a little girl with bright purple hair, perhaps as small as Isaac, her face scrunched up in concentration as she smeared letters on clay with a too-big paintbrush. Victoire pressed her lips together against the lump that emerged in her throat. She knew, in her mind, that they had lived—she had seen the photos, the Order of Merlin medals, the gravestone in Hogsmeade, and she'd heard the nostalgic stories from her parents, aunts, and uncles—but to Victoire, they had always felt most real when she tried to picture the mundane parts of their lives. The life they could have lived.

It probably would have been a lot like hers.

Day 2: James Sirius

Genre: Romance Song Prompt: Cold December Night Snippet: "I've got a date."

Somehow, that got her attention. She didn't look up from her report, but she briefly stilled, her quill pausing over her parchment.

"My cousin Louis sorted it," James continued in a rush, eager to capitalize on the short moment of her awareness he'd snagged. "His wife heard I was single again for the holidays and took pity on me. She's set me up with one of her old school friends from Beauxbat—"

"I should send this poor girl a letter," Alice cut in sardonically. "Warn her what she's gotten herself into."

He waggled his eyebrows at her. "You're just jealous you won't have me here in the office all month."

"You know, I am jealous. Jealous that she hasn't met you yet."

Day 3: Dominique

Genre: Romance/Family Song Prompt: What Are You Doing New Year's Eve? Snippet: She swallowed, averting her gaze from Victoire's. Inexplicably, her thoughts drifted to Malcolm—to his easy smiles at press conferences, his teasing winks and his large hands ruffling her sweaty hair after matches, his friendly nods as he bought her and her teammates drinks at after-parties. She thought of the way her stomach erupted in knots every time he caught her eye, of the white-hot pulsing in her gut when he laughed at her sarcastic jokes—and she thought about how he never seemed to experience even an ounce of the upheaval that overwhelmed her when they were together. Not once had his relaxed grin faltered.

"I just…it's not like that, Vic," Dominique said finally, despising how small her voice sounded. "It's never been anything but bloke-y between us—I mean, for fuck's sake, he asked me to help him find a birthday present for that Ballycastle Beater he was dating last year," she added witheringly.

"He was dating a Ballycastle Beater?" Victoire asked with interest. "Ooh, was it that one Aunt Angelina always complains about—Violet? No, Vivi—"

"Vic! Focus!"

Day 4: Roxanne

Genre: Romance Song Prompt: All I Want for Christmas Is You Snippet: "I just don't know why…you want to marry me," she said at last; the words left an odd taste in her mouth, and Roxanne realized, faintly, that it was the first time she'd said them aloud. She clenched her jaw to keep her tone steady. "I don't understand why you want to sacrifice all these things that—that you probably never imagined a relationship without—all these things that, if you'd had drinks with a different girl in Hogsmeade…you'd probably have by now."

Henry's eyes were wide. "Roxanne, I don't—I have never once—"

"If you'd gone to Hogsmeade with Cecilia Hyslop, you might already be married! You might be buying a house in Maida Vale and having twins in three months!" she cried, her voice cracking. "Why can't you just admit it?"

"Because I don't imagine my life with Cecilia Hyslop!" Henry said loudly. "I never fucking have!"

They were both breathing hard. They looked at each other a second longer; then, in unison, they lunged forward and kissed fiercely.

Day 5: Albus Severus

Genre: Romance/Family Song Prompt: (There's No Place Like) Home for the Holidays Snippet: "My parents might never forgive me if I take your dad's name," he said dryly, glancing past Emily at Zacharias's table. "Difficult as I've made things on Dad over the years, I think I'll draw the line at that."

Emily pressed her lips together against her amusement. "Fair enough."

Albus shook his head, tangling his fingers in Emily's long, dark hair. For a few moments, they sat in contented silence, and he found himself basking, as he always did, in the quiet ease. Everything with Emily had been like that, from the beginning, uncomplicated in a way nothing else had ever felt to him.

Dad had told him once, during one of their Mind Healing sessions, that things had felt like that with Mum, too, back when they were at Hogwarts together. After all the times in his moody teenage years that Albus had wished he could be less like his father, he was nothing but grateful now that this was something they shared.

Day 6: Molly II

Genre: Romance Song Prompt: Last Christmas Snippet: The shop assistant smiled bemusedly, but he leaned down and heaved the enormous gramophone into his arms again. "Will you be wanting some music as well?"

"No need," Molly said quickly, walking behind him to the clerk's counter. "I'm sure my aunt has something I can borrow for Christmas. But, er—thanks—" she glanced at his name tag, "—Desmond." Frowning thoughtfully, she cocked her head to the side. "Irish name, isn't it?"

Desmond set the gramophone down on the counter. "Dunno," he shrugged. "Cardiff, born and raised." As he said it, the lilt in his accent became more pronounced. "My mam just liked the name—from that beetles song."

Beetles song…Molly stared at Desmond, her mind so blank that she couldn't have rubbed two thoughts together if she tried.

Fuck. If this was an official work call, she would have been out a job before Christmas.

Day 7: Lucy

Genre: Romance/Family/Friendship Song Prompt: Please Come Home for Christmas Snippet: "Three years…" Lucy crossed her arms. "It doesn't seem like much now," she said quietly, "but what if he gets—bored?"

Molly frowned. "Has he given you that impression?"

"Well, no, but—"

"Has it seemed like he's looking elsewhere? Keeping his options open?" Molly asked, sounding angry.

"What? No—!"

"Has he been acting shifty? Working late? Throwing out his post? Cutting his hair differently?"

"No—fucking hell, Mol! Of course not…" Lucy trailed off, eyeing Molly with disbelief. "How the hell do you know so much about it?"

Molly snorted, but Lucy thought she saw her sister's expression shutter for a brief second. "I read too many of Mum's sappy Enchanted Encounters novels when I was a teenager—those books always expected you to be shocked the protagonist was about to uncover a shitty boyfriend in the second chapter instead of a surprise proposal."

Day 8: Lily Luna

Genre: Romance/Family Song Prompt: Angels Among Us Snippet: Lily took her husband's hand and together, they made their way into the cottage's cozy sitting room, where Dad had already lit a fire in the fireplace and was now settling into his armchair. Heart racing a little, Lily took a seat on the sofa opposite her father. She felt Jax squeeze her fingers.

"So," Dad smiled across the coffee table at her. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"Well…" Lily said slowly, exchanging a half-glance with Jax. "We have some news."

"News?"

Lily jumped.

Mum had appeared in the sitting room doorway, and there was an expression of mingled hope and fear on her freckled face that was painfully familiar—it was an expression that Lily too had worn, off and on, for the past two years.

Day 9: Hugo

Genre: Romance Song Prompt: Blue Christmas Snippet: "They're all happy and coupled up," Hugo continued bitterly, swilling his drink in his glass. "They don't need me ruining the vibe."

"Hmm," Edgar said slowly. "You know, you sound like a bit of an idiot."

It took a few moments for the words, spoken so plainly, to permeate the hazy curtain of firewhisky around Hugo's brain. At last, he spluttered, sitting upright and gaping at the barman. "Excuse me?"

Edgar was unfazed. Bracing his tattooed arms on the counter, he leaned across the bar toward Hugo. "I bet your family would love to have you, even with all your whinging. Any of 'em reach out?"

Hugo felt his ears burn with heat, and he glowered at the man, opening his mouth angrily—but no words came out. Oh, they had reached out. Of course they had—one could expect nothing less from his enormous, noisy, nosy family. His mum, Rose, and Lily wrote every day, and Roxy and Henry had started popping by his office in Diagon Alley during lunch, as though they could irritate him into coming to their place for Christmas.

Day 10: Freddie

Genre: Friendship/Family Song Prompt: Happy Xmas (War Is Over) Snippet: Every year, for as long as he could remember, Freddie Weasley had spent the evening of the twenty-third of December at Oliver and Katie Wood's cozy cottage in Inverness. His parents called it the annual reunion of the best Gryffindor Quidditch team ever. Freddie preferred to call it an excuse for his parents and their friends to unblushingly work their way through twelve bottles of wine.

Every year, the little gathering played out in exactly the same way. Dad and Lee would start the evening off by testing a new joke shop product on someone—usually Uncle Harry. ("Don't worry, Harry, it won't kill you," Dad would say. "And even if it did, you'd just come back," Lee would add.)

It would take four glasses of wine, precisely, to reduce Mum, Alicia, Katie, and Auntie Ginny to a group of gossipy schoolgirls. The four women would spend the rest of the night giggling furiously whenever their husbands so much as looked their way.

And every, single year, at some point during the night—usually the halfway point, once he'd imbibed enough alcohol—Oliver became very emotional over his last Quidditch match at Hogwarts. He'd spend at least fifteen minutes sobbing into Uncle Harry's collar.

Day 11: Louis

Genre: Romance Song Prompt: Noël à Paris Snippet: "Vairy funny," she muttered, a small flush rising up her cheekbones as she brushed a curl of sweaty red hair back from his forehead. "You 'ave a fever—I do not know if you should see your family tonight."

"I'm not," he whispered gruffly. His eyes fluttered at the feel of her fingers stroking gently through his hair. "My parents and sisters are in Marseilles for Réveillon."

"You did not go with zem?"

"I'm on deadline."

"Why not your grandparents' 'ouse in England, zen?"

"I'm on deadline," he repeated.

"Zat is starting to sound like an excuse."

"It sounds better than 'I'm pining alone because the girl I fancy has ignored half a dozen of my letters,' doesn't it?"

Day 12: Rose

Genre: Romance/Family Song Prompt: I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus Snippet: "Hey," Rose said quietly, reaching out and taking his hand. "Where's this coming from? We're hardly ancient, Scorpius—we're wizards. We've got decades ahead of us."

Scorpius's jaw clenched. Rose peered at him closely, pressing her lips together against the sudden tightness in her throat.

They did not speak often of his mother. Her untimely death had devastated Scorpius—and his father—so thoroughly that Rose could not bear the pain it caused him to remember the many things he had loved about her. Albus had met her a few times, had been there for Scorpius in the very worst days of their third year, but Rose had learned of Astoria mostly in bits and bobs, in odds and ends of old, fond memories—and it had become clear to her, over the years, that the joyful, persistent, fiercely loving man she'd married was every bit Astoria's son.

She was certain that Astoria had loved Christmas, too. That she had roused her grouchy husband in the middle of the night to help her wrap presents for their son. That she had dreamed of many Christmases she'd never made it to.

That Malfoy Manor had become a much quieter place in her absence.

Day 13: Teddy

Genre: Romance Song Prompt: This Christmas Snippet: It took Teddy a good five minutes to realize that the pounding racket in his head was not, in fact, his brain attempting to escape his skull. Rather, it was coming from outside the comfort and security of his closed eyeballs—from the front door of his flat, to be exact. By the time he had come to his senses enough to recognize the sound for what it was, his best friend Travis had begun adding to the din by banging on the wall that separated Teddy's bedroom from their flat's shared bathroom.

"Get the bloody door, Lupin, or I'll bring my hangover into your room!"

Normally, Teddy might have argued. But after seven years of friendship, Teddy knew not to take Travis's threats—or nausea-filled hangovers—lightly. With a long, loud groan, Teddy slowly dragged himself out of his quilts and began staggering down the flat's dark hallway, grumbling under his breath all the while.

"Fucking hell…Boxing Day…some of us like a lie-in…"

Running a hand through his disheveled green hair, Teddy pulled open the front door. His jaw dropped.

"Vic?" he gasped. "I—I thought you were in France!"

[thethreebroomsticksficfest]

home (is wherever i'm with you)

Day 14 is another mod submission, this time from @lazyweekendmornings, read it on AO3 here

Title: home (is wherever i’m with you)

Author: lazyweekendmornings

Pairing: Albus/Scorpius

Warnings: N/A

Prompt: X’s first Weasley jumper

Summary: Scorpius’s first Christmas at the Burrow.

“You’re funny when you’re nervous,” Lily tells Scorpius. She’s curled up opposite him in their compartment on the Hogwarts Express. It’s just the two of them in the compartment: Rosie and Al have left in search of more sweets, and Lorcan and Lysander are in the other compartment with Roxanne and Hugo. Lily hasn’t been talking to them all day - is why she’s sitting with him and Al instead - but Scorpius hasn’t asked why, too afraid to be on the bad side of her temper. 

“I’m not nervous,” Scorpius says. He got dressed in a hurry this morning, and he has a feeling that the jumper he’s wearing is Al’s, not his, but he refuses to admit that it gives him comfort.

“You are,” Lily insists. “Although I don’t know why you would be, you’ve spent the Christmas holidays with us before.”

“But I’ve never visited the Burrow before,” Scorpius mumbles. “Or, you know. Met your grandparents and your entire family at once. It’s enough to make anybody nervous.” 

“So you are nervous, then?” Lily says.

It’s impossible to outsmart a thirteen year old girl. “Well… maybe a tiny bit,” Scorpius admits. 

“I knew it,” Lily says, and then gets to her feet, throwing her long red hair over her shoulder. “I’m going to go find Lorcan, and give him another chance to apologise.” 

“That’s very nice of you,” Scorpius says.

“You don’t have anything to be nervous about, you know  They’ll love you. Everyone does,” Lily says, like it’s obvious. She hugs Scorpius on his way out, and he leans back against the back of his seat once she’s left. He really wishes he had siblings sometimes. 

Teddy’s waiting for them at the station, instead of the Potters. “Vic reckons I could use the driving practice, and Gran wanted to catch up with Harry and Ginny,” he says, leading them out of the station and towards the car.

The problem, Scorpius thinks a bit later on, once they’re settled in the car, is that everything about Albus is lovely. Al’s sitting next to him now in the backseat, with Lily. Teddy’s driving the car, and Jamie’s sitting in the front seat with him.

“So it really depends,” Jamie’s saying, “but we know we want to travel, we’re not sure where we’ll go once we graduate.”

“You should go to Europe,” Lily says. “It’s meant to be so great there. Oh, and you can visit Aunt Fleur’s relatives in France!”

“Europe’s a bit mainstream though, isn’t it?” Jamie says.

Al, in the window seat next to Scorpius, snorts. “You’re the Quidditch Captain for Gryffindor, dating the Head Girl. Your life is already very mainstream, Jamie.”

“He’s right, Jamie, you’re very popular,” Scorpius puts in.

“Yes, but not mainstream, because Leah and I are doing it ironically,” Jamie says.

“Oh, are you?” Teddy asks, amused. 

“Oh, and is Freddie the Head Boy ironically, too?” Al asks.

“Absolutely, yes,” Jamie says.

“I think you should just accept that you’re all very normal and boring,” Al says.

Jamie gasps, very loud and very theatrical, but all Scorpius can look at is Albus. There’s a devious glint in his eyes. The kind he gets when he’s teasing someone. Scorpius doesn’t understand when everyone thinks of Al as reserved or quiet or closed off, because it’s always been so easy to read him. His eyes, bright green and honest, always give him away. It’s one of the reasons Scorpius likes him so much: he’s genuine, down to the bone. 

Which is the problem, because he feels so nervous about spending Christmas with all of Al’s family that he could be sick. He’s spent summers with the Potters before, but never with all of them.

Next to him, Al nudges him. Gentle, subtle, but reassuring. Albus in a nutshell, Scorpius thinks. “You alright?” he whispers to him.

Scorpius looks out of the window, focuses on a fixed point in the distance to try and get himself to calm down. “Yeah,” he says. “Just fine, thank you.”

By the time they get to Grimmauld Place, Scorpius doesn’t feel any better at all.

“You alright, mate?” Jamie says, once they’re all out of the car and Teddy’s fumbling with attempting to open the boot of the car. “Do you get carsick? I suppose they don’t have many cars at Malfoy Manor, do they?” he muses.

“I–um, I guess not, no,” Scorpius mumbles.

Jamie claps Scorpius on the back by way of reassurance. “Do you know when the Portkey’s leaving?” he asks, looking around at the others.

“Oh… no, I don’t,” Scorpius says.

“Oh, sorry, mate, not you. I was asking Teddy,” Jamie says and gives Scorpius an absentminded smile before going over to Teddy’s side. The both of them fall into a conversation too quiet for Scorpius to overhear. Albus is talking to Lily about something, and Scorpius doesn’t want to intrude, so he leans against the car and waits.

“Fuck it, I’ll send your things to the Burrow later, let’s just go in now. Come on, we should hurry or you’ll miss the Portkey,” Teddy calls out, a moment later. Al catches up to him, and offers him a quiet smile that Scorpius does his best to reciprocate.

Mr and Mrs Potter are waiting for them in Grimmauld Place, talking to a woman Scorpius recognises as Mrs Tonks.

“Hi, Gran,” Teddy says cheerfully, going to hug her. 

“Was the drive here alright, then?” Mrs Potter says, at the same time.

“Dad, did you hear the news about what happened in Wales, with the rogue Bludgers during a Quidditch game?” Jamie says.

“When are the others getting to the Burrow?” Lily asks. 

Scorpius turns to look at Al with wide eyes. It’s different, being with the Potters. He’s stayed with them every summer since the summer after first year, but he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get used to it. It’s quiet back home, just him and Mum and Dad, but there’s barely a second to get a word in edgeways with the Potters. It’s not that it’s bad, not at all. It’s just… different from what he’s used to at home, being around the Potters. Al’s not like the rest of the Potters, really. He’s quieter, softer around the edges. It’s one of the reasons that Scorpius likes him so much, really. Part of what makes him so lovely. 

“Alright,” Mr Potter calls out, after a moment or two of overlapping conversation. “Let’s go, we’ve got a Portkey to catch. James, Lily, go with your mum. Al, Scorpius, you’re with me.”

“Wait, what about Teddy?” Jamie demands.

“Gran and I are coming on Christmas Eve, with Vic,” Teddy says. “We’ve both got work until then, so we’re staying in London. Closer to Mungo’s and the Ministry.”

“But you’ll be there for Christmas, right?” Lily asks.

“Course we will, we wouldn’t miss it,” Teddy says.

“Have fun at the Burrow,” Mrs Tonks says.

“We always have fun at the Burrow,” Lily says, leaning in to give Teddy one final hug.

“Not too much fun, though,” Teddy says, amused.

“Oi, don’t go getting all boring on us now that you’re married,” Jamie says.

“One minute,” Mrs Potter says.

Scorpius doesn’t know where to look, or where the Portkey even is, so he looks at Mr Potter. And then Mr Potter gets out what looks like an old quill. “Come on,” he says.

“Come on,” Al echoes, quieter, just for Scorpius, and holds his hand as they both reach out to touch the Portkey, getting their fingers on it just in time.

*

The Portkey drops them off outside, in some kind of orchard. In the distance, Scorpius can see a tall, uneven house. It has the look of a place that’s been added to over the years, and even from a distance, he can see that all the windows are lit up. Scorpius thinks of home, which is large and perfectly decorated and quiet and colder and darker during the winter, and he thinks he understands why it is that the Potters like this place so much.

“They’ll be inside, we might be the last ones to get here,” Mr Potter says.

“I don’t think Freddie’s here yet,” Jamie says.

“How can you be so sure of that?” Al asks.

Jamie snorts. “You’d know if he was here, believe me. Should we wait for them?”

“It’s too cold, let’s wait inside,” Lily says. Without waiting for them, she . “Do you know if Luna’s family is joining us for Christmas?” she asks Mrs Potter.

“I think you’d better ask Mum, but if you want to see Lorcan that badly–”

“It’s not just about Lorcan, Mum!” 

“I’m just saying–”

Scorpius doesn’t attempt to keep up with the conversation; instead, he falls into step next to Albus and Mr Potter. 

Scorpius thought that Grimmauld Place was overwhelming with the Potters, but it’s positively serene compared to the Burrow. They walk inside, and the first thing they’re met with is Mrs Weasley – Al’s gran – who comes up to them and envelopes them all in warm hugs. Scorpius loves his family. Really, he does. But they’re not very… demonstrative. So when Al’s gran leans in and hugs him, he has no idea how to react. His hug is quicker than the ones the rest of the family receives, and he can’t help but notice that. Then again, he isn’t a part of the family, not really. 

“Is everyone here already?” Mr Potter asks Mrs Weasley delightedly.

“No, Ron and Hermione only get here tomorrow morning, and George –”

“George is here,” announces a new voice, and Scorpius turns to see Freddie and Roxanne, and their parents, striding in. 

“George!” Mrs Potter says, and she and Lily rush to hug him immediately.

Jamie goes up to Freddie immediately, and even Al says, “Hi!” 

“How’s the love life going, Freddie?” Mrs Potter says.

“Mum!” Jamie hisses. 

Freddie’s face falls. “Don’t ask,” he says.

Scorpius exchanges a knowing glance with Al. They’re in a different house from Freddie, but despite that, they’ve heard all of the gossip about him. It’s impossible not to hear all of the rumours about the Head Boy; everyone delights in talking about it, especially since the Head Girl has been dating James Potter for years with no trace of scandal. 

“Now,” Mrs Weasley cuts in, before any of them can say anything else, ��Teddy already sent your trunks and things, I’ve sent them to your rooms.”

“Where are we staying?” Lily asks.

“You’re staying with Roxanne, and the others –”

Al nudges Scorpius, diverting his attention from Mrs Weasley. “Do you think we’ll be able to share a room without any of the others?” he whispers.

Scorpius considers it. “Well, we shared a room when you stayed at mine, didn’t we?” he says, and feels his cheeks heat up at the memory. It was a good two weeks, when Al came to stay with him over the summer.

“Yes, but I don’t think –”

“And Albus,” Mrs Weasley says, interrupting Al, “you’re in the old attic bedroom, with Scorpius and James.”

James makes his way over, slings his arm across Scorpius’s shoulders. “It’ll be fun. What are your thoughts on festive Dungbombs?” 

“How is a festive Dungbomb different from a regular Dungbomb?” Scorpius asks tentatively.

Jamie sighs, disappointed. “We clearly haven’t taught you enough. Don’t you think, Freddie?”

“Absolutely. Oh, young Scorpius,” Freddie says, “you’ve got so much to learn about a Weasley family Christmas.”

*

Scorpius can’t sleep that night. It’s been a long day, with trains and cars and Portkey travels, and he’s at Al’s grandparents’ house, the Weasley house, a proper part of their family Christmas, and he’s so exhausted and nervous that he can’t sleep despite the fatigue thrumming under his veins. Next to him, in the camp bed next to his, Al’s snoring softly. Jamie’s missing – in Freddie and Hugo’s room, maybe, or snuck out somewhere, Scorpius isn’t sure.

With the absentminded idea that a cup of tea might help him feel better, Scorpius carefully gets to his feet. He can see Al in the dim moonlight that filters in through the window, a smudge of messy black hair visible over a nest of duvet and blankets. He really is unfairly attractive, Scorpius thinks, not for the first time.

He makes his way downstairs. It’s quite late – nearly midnight, he thinks – and the house seems to be asleep by now. When he gets to the kitchen, though, he can hear voices, voices he recognises at once: Mr Potter, and James. Even before he gets to the doorway, he can hear what they’re saying, clearly.

“Just don’t see why he was allowed to come, Dad,” Jamie’s saying. Scorpius pauses, his hand hovering inches away from the doorknob. Trepidation washes over him; is Jamie saying what he thinks he’s saying? Surely he can’t mean what Scorpius thinks he mean, surely he isn’t talking about–

“I already told you why,” Mr Potter says. 

“You haven’t! And Mum just told me to talk to you about it – it just seems unfair, it’s such a double standard–”

“Look, I understand why you feel that way, but the fact is that Leah’s parents wanted her to join them on their trip to France–” Mr Potter is starting to sound as frustrated, almost as annoyed as Jamie sounds.

“But if you’re going to let Scorpius come, then I don’t see why –”

Something about that, about the way Jamie spits out Scorpius, as if Scorpius is the last person he wants here, gets to him. Scorpius’s blood feels like it’s turned to ice inside his veins. He likes the Potters, but he’s been nervous about coming with them for their family Christmas. He thought it was all in his head but now… now he’s starting to wonder if they want him around here at all. 

He doesn’t need to hear anymore. He can’t. There’s a sick feeling in his stomach, festering and making him feel like he might be physically sick. He doesn’t want to hear more about how James doesn’t want him here. 

He turns around and walks back upstairs, almost as if he’s in a trance. A cup of tea is the last thing on his mind right now. 

*

He feels out of sorts the next day. He does his best to hide it, but Albus can tell. He knows that Al can tell, because somehow, Albus always knows what’s going on in his mind. He’s always known, ever since that first day when they met on the Hogwarts Express, all those years ago. Luckily, Al doesn’t get to confront him, because of everything that seems to always be going on in the Burrow. They wake up to the sound of Jamie and Freddie setting off some sort of explosion in the garden outside, and then it’s a blur of activity: breakfast, everyone but Mrs Weasley and Mrs Potter (who’s working from home, working on her next Quidditch novel, apparently) leaving for work, Hugo and Rosie arriving with their dad. It’s the one time he’s grateful for the chaos of the Potter family Christmas, because it means he doesn’t have to talk to anyone too much.

In the afternoon, too, all of them go to the orchard, shooed out there by Mrs Potter. “It’s a lovely day, go and have some fun. I’d come join you if I didn’t have to reach my infernal word count today,” she said, and Scorpius traipsed dutifully after them all.

“We should play Quidditch,” Jamie says. “Freddie, what do you think? Might cheer you up a bit.”

Freddie sighs. “Alright, fine.”

“I’ll take Al and Lils and Scorp,” Jamie says, “you can take Rosie and Hugo and Roxanne. Potters versus Weasleys.” 

He’s torn between wanting to say he won’t play, and not wanting to draw too much attention to himself. 

“I don’t want to play,” Al says, surprising him. 

“Oh, uh – me neither, I don’t think,” Scorpius says.

Jamie sighs. “Alright, fine. We’ll do three-a-side, then. Lily, you come here, then, and Rose–”

“Are you alright?” Albus asks him, quietly.

Scorpius nods, but his throat feels a little thick, so he doesn’t say anything else. “Fine,” he whispers.

Albus looks at him for a long moment, his green eyes boring into him like he can see right into his soul, and says, “Do you want to take a walk?” 

They don’t go very far; they settle down in the garden, where they have a clear view of both the orchard and the slowly setting sun on the horizon.

Al doesn’t press him for details. Instead, he talks about Transfiguration, telling Scorpius about the meeting he had with Headmistress McGonagall right before the end of of term. 

“So McGonagall thinks I’ll be able to get a good OWL result in it, if I keep it up, which makes me think about whether I can–”

“Of course you can, you’re amazing at Transfiguration,” Scorpius says.

Albus beams at him. “You have to say that, though. It’s a boyfriend thing. And a best friend thing.”

“No, I don’t have to say it. I’d tell you if you weren’t good at it. I mean… we both know you’re rubbish at Herbology,” Scorpius says. 

“Hey, I maintain that that plant killed itself and that Professor Longbottom was wrong!” Albus says, but when Scorpius giggles, Al joins in.

It’s easier to not be so worried about everything now that it’s just him and Al, and they both can fall into the sort of easy conversation that’s never been difficult for Scorpius, no matter his mindset.

“Do you think it’s weird that I’m here?” Scorpius asks suddenly a little while later, when there’s a lull in the conversation. It’s the way Al’s looking at him that gets him to blurt it out. Al looks soft, and concerned, and Scorpius suddenly feels as if he might cry.

“What? No, not at all. Why would you think that?” Al demands, scooting slightly closer to Scorpius on the grass.

“I don’t know. Just… do you think it’s okay with your family?” Scorpius asks, tentatively. Al looks at him, right into his eyes, which gets Scorpius to keep talking. “I kind of heard Jamie talking to your dad yesterday. Saying something about… how it’s a double standard that he let me come here, or something, Kind of seemed like he didn’t want me here,” he finally admits.

Al snorts. “Oh, you don’t have to worry about that. He’s just annoyed that Dad didn’t let him bring his girlfriend here. He wanted to have her stay with us for Christmas, but he and Mum said no. Has nothing to do with you, Scorp.” 

“He seemed really angry, though,” Scorpius says in a small voice. 

“That’s just Jamie though, isn’t it? He gets really angry, but it never lasts too long. It’s just  a storm in a teacup,” Al says, and takes Scorpius’s hand. “I, um. I’m really glad you’re here, for the record,” he says. The tips of his ears have gone pink, and Scorpius can’t help but smile. It’s impossible not to smile when he’s faced with Albus Severus Potter, being sweet and holding his hand.

“Oi,” Jamie calls out, just as Al is leaning in. “Enough time off, you’ve got to come and play now. Team Potter, let’s go.”

“See?” Al whispers, completely ignoring Jamie so he can kiss Scorpius. “Team Potter, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

*

Scorpius does his best not to think about it, for the rest of the holiday. Jamie’s nothing but nice to him, including him in what he and Freddie call the Annual Potter-Weasley Christmas Firework Show.

“It started the Christmas after Uncle Fred passed away,” Freddie tells Scorpius, on the morning of Christmas eve after he wakes up him, Al, and Jamie by thundering into the attic bedroom. 

“Mum and Uncle Ron got Uncle George to do it,” Jamie tells him through a yawn.

“And when Jamie and Freddie were fifteen, they decided to take over the tradition,” Albus says, and rolls over, burying his face in the pillow. “We know.”

“I didn’t know,” Scorpius points out. 

“And it’s important to get young Scorpius used to the Potter traditions,” Freddie says. 

“So that he’ll be able to teach them to your children one day,” Jamie adds solemnly.

Scorpius thinks about a baby with chubby cheeks and Albus’s black hair and green eyes and feels his face heat up. He’s definitely getting ahead of himself. 

“Can’t we sleep in a bit, though. It’s not until evening!” Al says. His face is still hidden by the pillow, so Scorpius has no way of knowing if he feels as suddenly self-conscious as he does.

“No, Al, you’re right. But this year, you and Scorp are helping us, too,” Jamie announces grandly.

 “I’ll help,” he says, mostly so he’ll divert himself from his trail of thought. 

That’s how he finds himself spending the day, with Albus and Freddie and Jamie, organising a fireworks display. The  message that they spell out is different every year, Freddie tells him, and they spend ages deciding what this year’s should be– or, rather, Al and Jamie argue about it, Freddie throws a suggestion in now and then, and Scorpius does his best to stay out of the way. 

Scorpius doesn’t like fireworks too much, as a general rule; they’re loud and overwhelming, two things he doesn’t get on with very much. But he likes the Potters, and the Weasleys, and he wants them to like him. 

“Right,” Freddie says, in the evening. The sun’s just set, and it’s almost time for dinner – which means it’s almost time for the fireworks. “We’ve got it all ready to go. But we should still go get backup fireworks from the shop, just in case.”

“Just in case Albus accidentally gets water on the ones we have and ruins them, you mean?” Jamie says.

“Precisely,” Freddie agrees.

Al makes a very rude gesture at Jamie, which makes Scorpius grin.

“Do you want to come to the shop with me, Scorp?” Freddie asks, slinging his arm around Scorpius’s shoulders. It feels… brotherly, which is strange. Not altogether unpleasant.

“Oh– er. Me?” Scorpius says. 

“Yeah, it’ll be fun,” Freddie says, and looks around, even though it’s just the four of them in the cramped attic room. “If either of you see Roxie, tell her that she couldn’t come because I’m picking up her present, okay?”

“Sure,” Albus says, and gives Scorpius a small smile.

“We’ll deal with things here,  don’t worry. Get me some Nosebleed Nougats, will you?” Jamie says. 

“Will do. Come on, Scorpius, we can Floo,” Freddie says. His arm’s still around Scorpius’s shoulders, and he tugs him downstairs. Scorpius is too nonplussed to do anything but follow. 

“Where are you two young sprogs off to?” Freddie’s dad asks them. He’s sprawled out on the sofa, with an open book propped up, face down, on his chest. 

“To the shop,” Freddie says with no hesitation.

“Going to cause some mischief, are you?”

“That’s the plan,” Freddie confirms.

“That’s my boy. Good to see you getting in on the family mischief, Scorpius,” Freddie’s dad says and then, with a yawn, “If you see your mum, tell her I didn’t approve of this. Got it?”

“See Mum, tell her it was all your idea. Got it,” Freddie says, and throws a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace. “Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, Diagon Alley,” he announces, and tugs Scorpius in with him. The last thing Scorpius sees is Albus at the bottom of the stairs, waving at him with a smile.

“I thought you couldn’t travel with someone if you’re travelling by Floo,” Scorpius says, when he steps out of the fireplace an indeterminable amount of time later. He’s never been to the joke shop after hours before; it’s dark, with only the emergency lighting illuminating the shop, and quieter than he’s ever seen it. He feels a bit sick, the way he always feels after Floo travel, and his nice jumper’s got soot all over it. 

“Oh, Uncle Percy changed the rules,” Freddie says, following Scorpius out. “Apparently there was this incident where Uncle Harry got lost in Knockturn Alley when he Flooed alone for the first time. So now you can take underage wizards with you.”

Scorpius blinks. “Mr Potter got lost?” he says. He can’t imagine it.

“Apparently so,” Freddie says, and points his wand at Scorpius’s jumper. Some sort of steam billows out from his wand, cleaning the soot off Scorpius’s jumper.

“Oh– thank you,” Scorpius says.

“No problem,” Freddie says, putting his wand away and leading them down one of the aisles of the shop.

“Are you looking forward to the firework display?” Scorpius asks.

“Oh, yeah. It should be fun. Get my mind off things a bit,” Freddie says. “Or so Jamie thinks, but then again, he hasn’t met a problem he can’t solve with fireworks or Dungbombs.” 

“Don’t you like fireworks and Dungbombs, too?” Scorpius says, thinking of all the firework shows Freddie and Jamie have been responsible for at Hogwarts. 

Freddie grins. “Course I do. I’m only human, after all. You’d have to be mad not to enjoy some fireworks and Dungbombs. Here we are.” He hands Scorpius a gift-wrapped box. “There we are. That’s Roxie’s present, I hid it in the shop ages ago. And now, we go find the fireworks.”

It takes them longer than Scorpius thought it might to find the specific kind of fireworks Freddie and James had in mind, and they get back just in time for dinner.

“There you are,” Jamie greets them, when Scorpius steps out of the Floo. “We were starting to get worried that you kidnapped Scorpius, Freddie.”

“I thought about it, but then I decided it was too much effort, so I brought him back,” Freddie says.

“Did you have fun, Scorpius?” Jamie asks him.

“Er… yeah, it was fun,” Scorpius says. 

“Good, yeah. That’s great,” Jamie says, and takes the box out of Scorpius’s hands, handing it to Rose. “Come on, then. We saved you a seat, dinner’s in a minute.”

Scorpius wonders why Jamie’s being so warm towards him, and then sees the slightly sheepish smile on Al’s face and wonders if that has anything to do with it.

“Did you talk to Jamie?” he asks Al, later, when they’re all gathered in the garden.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Al says, but he won’t look Scorpius in the eye.

“Al,” Scorpius says.

“It’s starting,” is all Al says, and slips his hand into Scorpius’s.

Scorpius knows what’s coming, but he still grins as he watches the fireworks. Jamie sets them off with his wand, and they go off, zooming into the sky. And then the sky, formerly dark, starry, is absolutely lit up in a blur of bright colours. The red and green lights move together, forming together to form the words Happy Christmas, bitches.

Scorpius hears Al’s gran gasp. And then, in the split second it takes for them all to absorb the messages, the lights rearrange themselves, correcting the message to Happy Christmas, witches (and wizards). 

A pause. And then, everyone gathered in the garden burst into laughter, and when Scorpius turns to look at Al, his face is bright and happy under the lights. 

“Happy Christmas Eve, Al,” he whispers, squeezing his hand.

*

Presents in the Malfoy household are on Christmas morning. They wake up, meet for breakfast downstairs – Scorpius’s dad usually cooks them something – and then open their presents at the breakfast table. 

It’s a completely different scenario at the Burrow, Scorpius finds out. He’s awoken by a pillow to the head. When he blinks his eyes open, heart racing a mile a minute, he’s greeted with the grinning face of Lily.

“Hi,” she says. “Come on. It’s time for presents. Let’s go!” 

Before Scorpius can recover, she goes to wake Al and Jamie up. Jamie, the only morning person among the three of them, joins Lily happily enough, and Al and Scorpius stagger down the stairs sleepily after them. 

“Happy Christmas,” Mr Potter greets them cheerfully. He’s sitting with Mrs Potter and Rose and Hugo’s parents, and he doesn’t get up before he gestures to their pile of presents. Everyone else – Freddie, Roxanne, Rose, Hugo, Freddie’s parents, Al’s granddad – are already up, sitting and sipping from steaming cups. 

Mrs Weasley, Al’s gran, comes bustling into the room, an apron tied around her waist. “Good, you’re all finally awake,” she says, even though the sun hasn’t so much as come up yet. “Hot chocolate, dears?” 

“Ooh, yes please, Gran,” Al says, and sits down right there on the carpet. He tugs Scorpius down with him, and Lily sits down on his other side.

Scorpius opens the first present he sees with his name on it: it’s from his parents, and his eyes light up when he sees the leatherbound journals, engraved with his name on them, and a matching set of eagle feather quills. “This is amazing,” he says.

“Only you’d ask for journals and quills for Christmas,” Al teases.

“They’re very fancy journals and quills, shush,” Scorpius says, grinning at Al.

“Hey, Scorpius, this has your  name on it,” Lily says, tossing Scorpius a present. 

It’s soft, lumpy to the touch, and Scorpius wonders whether his grandmother sent him another set of formal, scratchy dress robes that he needs to pretend to like. When he opens it, though, he sees that it’s not a set of robes, but a jumper. It’s red, hand-knitted, and has a navy blue S on the front. “Oh,” he whispers.

Jamie looks up at him. “Oh, your first Weasley jumper,” he cheers, leaning over and ruffling Scorpius’s hair.

Scorpius, eyes wide, turns to look at Al’s gran, who’s giving him a fond smile. “Happy Christmas, dear,” she says, setting a cup of hot chocolate in front of him. 

Scorpius gets to his feet and leans up, hugging her suddenly. He’s not the hugging kind, not unless it’s his mum or Al, so it feels stiff at first, but also warm, like family.

“Thank you,” he whispers. 

“Of course. You’re family now,” she says.

Scorpius sits back down next to Al, feeling overwhelmed and close to tears, and leans into his side. “Told you,” Al whispers to him, “you had nothing to worry about. Happy Christmas.” 

Scorpius feels– brimming with emotions, close to tears, and so happy that he might explode. He looks up at Al, and thinks I love you I love you I love you. “Happy Christmas,” he whispers. 

*

[amonthofwhump]

Hey, I have several questions:

Can we alter the prompts if they don't fit with the time/circumstances our fic is set on? For example, if it takes place before the invention of television can we change "Favorite Holiday Movies" to a favorite theatre play or something similar?

yes! ooh, a theatre play would make for such a cute fic 🥺

-mod vic

[theinsanecrayonbox]

so, car thinkings from the 3ish+ hours round trip to the airport to get no one in terrible weather...

and because i’m still salty about the missing “Red Xmas” comic from Merry X-Men...

Victor not being one that big on the holidays, cause you know, usually alone. he pulls a Logan and typically goes and hangs out in a bar, alone. but this year he brings Arkady. so the two are dressed down in like flannels, shooting pool in this middle of nowhere bar. Arkady maybe mentioning how he though western holidays were usually more colorful and bright than this, Vic just shrugging that off and wracking up the ball and ordering them some cheap beer. they start playing “20 questions” as they sink shots/win rounds; the joke being it’s 12 questions, because 12 days of Christmas haha. questions range from favorite color, boxers vs briefs, richest person you’ve ever killed, your favorite Stoodge. you know, some easy, nice, relaxing downtime; drinking as they go of course, bottles start piling up to help show the passage of time. then of course, as it always happen, some redneck loudboy has to go off all “we don’t want no mutants in these parts blahblahblah” and with these two, they don’t really need much prompting for a bar fight; in fact the joke goes “ok next question: do you wanna start a bar fight?” “oh hell yes”. so bar fight, a reminder to keep it low collateral and no powers (it’s more fun that way anyways). the fight ends with the two of them laughing coming out of the bar, the loudboys all scattered and unconscious, the barkeep with a stack of cash for the damages. they’re laughing, pointing out cool moves; maybe Arkady slipped on ice and drunk so Vic catches him. Arkady goes “ok one more question; do you see that mistletoe?” and of  course they’re outside, under a light, there isn’t any. but Vic just smirks answering “sure i do”. and then long shot of them silhouetted against the bar sign in the light as snow’s falling i guess.

that could all fit on a page...or two...whatever, merry jingly ^^

have an unrelated edit to catch your eye lol

(ok it’s not completely unrelated...there’s snow...lol)

[bex-la-get]

Asks/Prompt Requests

Ethan Hears Nigella Pronounce Microwave

Jealous Ethan Prompt

Nat Introduces Ethan As Her Boyfriend

The Morning After - A response prompt to Nat Introducing Ethan as her BF

Natalie Settles In - A response prompt to the above asks

The Marriage/Kid Conversation

Vic Meets Ethan

Nat & Ethan Have a Fight

OPH Handwriting Headcanon

Ethan Questions Nat During the fMRI

Ethan’s Reaction to the Superhero Costume (Bk 3)

Nat Wears an Outfit That Makes Ethan Go Crazy

Nat Plans a Relaxing Weekend For Ethan

Ethan’s Reaction to the Hawaii Swimsuit (Bk 3)

Nat & Ethan’s Christmas Gifts for Each Other

Nat’s Music Choices Throughout Pivotal Book Moments

How Would Nat Tell a Stranger/Acquaintance About Ethan?

Sexting At A Family Gathering

Alternate HC of Nat & Ethan’s meeting

Funniest Anecdote About Nat

Ethan’s Favorite Gala Looks Nat Has Worn

Ramsack Headcanons

Who’s the “Naked Neighbor?”

Headcanon Asks

Who gets sick more often?

Who is more protective?

Who believes in soulmates?

Who said ‘I love you’ first?

Who is more affectionate in public? In private?

Physical Affection Prompts

No. 26 (touching feet & screaming/immediately recoiling)

No. 22 (kissing someone’s bruises/cuts/scratches)

No. 14 (play wrestling) *NSFW 18+ only

Nos. 6 & 19 (chasing someone’s lips after they pull away & peppering their face in kisses)

No. 1 (pats on the head)

No. 20 (chest bump)

Nos. 5 & 25 (giggly cuddles & playfully biting someone)

Nos. 7 & 17 (squishing their cheeks & tugging on the bottom of someone’s shirt)

No. 21 (accidentally knocking your head into someone’s chin)

Love Language Prompts

Making and bringing them food

Fixing their jacket collar or hood

Ruffling their hair

Giving them a random hug (TW: death of a patient)

Keeping promises

Asking them about their day

Random Dialogue Prompts

No. 22 - “Don’t be greedy” *NSFW 18+ only

No. 38 - “Of course I’m scared, but I’m also excited”

No. 24 - “I’ll protect you, with my life if necessary.”

No. 17 - “I like your face.”

No. 2 - “We’re either getting married, or we’re breaking up.”

Nos. 5 & 6 - “You look like you just saw a ghost” & “I can’t believe it’s really you, I never thought I’d see you again.”

No. 25 - “What kind of psychopath has 1,273 unread emails?”

No. 32 - “Ooh, seems like I’ve struck a nerve.”

No. 3 - “You’re wrong. So sit there in your wrongness and be wrong.”

Nos. 18 & 20 - “Who knocked you up?” “That would be me. Hi, nice to meet you.” & “Nobody touch me! Except you, you can touch me.”

A Sequel Piece to 32

No. 28 - “Shh! You’re gonna get us caught!” *NSFW 18+ only

Touching Prompts

No. 19 - High Fiving

No. 20 - Bandaging/Stitching Up an Injury

Nos. 10 & 50 - spooning at night & putting a hand over the other’s mouth to shut them up

Character Development Questions

Nos. 30 & 31 

Nos. 2, 12, 21, & 30

Nos. 15, 29, & 34

No. 3

Detailed OC Questions

Nos. 7, 12, 21, 34, 40, & 49 - Ethan & Nat

50 Types of Kisses Prompts

No. 11 - Morning Kisses (Tobias x Dani)

No. 20 - Kissing in a Stairwell (Ethan x Natalie)

No. 19 - Stopping a kiss, asking “Do you want to do this?” and getting kissed more passionately in answer (Ethan x Natalie)

No. 22 - A kiss that’s leading to more but interrupted by a third party (Bryce x Sienna)

No. 41 - Kisses under an umbrella (Ethan x Natalie)

Ship Questions:

5/6/7 in every category

Holiday Couple Prompts:

#2 - Person A is singing Christmas songs all the time and Person B is quite annoyed by that at first. But they don't complain anymore when A finds B humming a Christmas song themselves.

OTP Asks:

Nos. 5, 57, & 68

Nos. 11, 16, 22, 27, & 69

Nos. 12, 26, 35, & 39

Love Confessions Prompts:

No. 20 -  “I can’t lose you again! Please, don’t make me lose you again.”

No. 18 -  “Don’t you see that there are people who care about you? That I care about you?”

No. 13 - “You have to come back to me. Because I cannot do this without you.”

No. 26 -  “You will never lose me. I will always be right here beside you.” (Feat. the Ramsack Kids)

No. 20 - “I love you, okay? I love you!”

Reassurance Starters Prompts:

“If you’re uncomfortable, you can tell me.”

“You’re very cute, you know.” (Tobias x Dani)

“Are you busy? Can I talk to you for a moment?”

“I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.”

“I want you to kiss me.”

“You have me. You’ll always have me.” “Are you okay with being touched?” & “If you’re not ready, we can wait.” *NSFW 18+ only

[plus-size-reader]

Pretty

12 days of Christmas Special 2

Henry Bowers x Plus size!reader (Sister)

Word Count: 1281 words

Warnings: none

Summary: How the Bowers siblings spend Christmas

——————————————————————————————————

Christmas in the Bowers house had always been sort of strange.

Butch had never really cared much for the holidays, and often worked through Christmas eve because of that. He didn’t like Christmas, and since your mom had left, he hated it even more so.

Which left you and Henry alone for most holidays during your childhood, which necessarily wasn’t the worst thing for you.

It was no secret that your brother could be moody and mean on occasion but he wasn’t all bad. You never doubted that Henry loved you, and he proved that even more around the holidays.

Henry didn’t really care for Christmas.

All throughout his childhood, there was basically no Christmas but when you were born, that changed a little for him. He went back and forth on how he felt for you, but overall, he was pretty protective.

...And when it came to Christmas time, he wanted you to have more than he had as a kid.

He knew that Butch tended to ignore the holidays, even now, and wouldn’t do anything for you. Not only that, but if you were lucky, he would ignore the two of you when he’d had too much to drink or a hard day at work.

It had always been that way.

When the two of you were younger, Henry would go out of his way to try and play Santa. He would make you little crafts and toys and wrap them in newspaper so you’d have something under the tree.

However, he didn’t have to do that anymore. Now that the two of you were older, Christmas was easier on you both.

For starters, you didn’t believe in Santa Clause anymore, so he didn’t have to jump through hoops to keep that illusion alive for you. That was for the best, as Henry didn’t have energy to do that anymore.

...And it didn’t hurt that Henry had his own money now.

He didn’t have to make you flimsy Popsicle stick houses and paper dolls anymore. If he wanted too, Henry could go out and pick up whatever he wanted for you, and in that way, Christmas was better.

Though, your father still didn’t want to be a part of it. Butch refused to even get you a Christmas tree this year, because he didn’t want to look at it.

For him, it was nothing more than a nuisance.

Of course, Henry wasn’t going to make you go without a tree. It was a tradition that he knew you loved, something you’d been doing since you were children. You had always gone to the Derry tree lot and picked out a live tree.

It broke your heart to hear that you weren’t going to have one this year, so naturally, Henry took it upon himself to make it all better.

He started by having the boys come in so that they could get it all figured out. Patrick complained at first, but at the end of the day, he decided to just do as he was told without starting a fight with your brother.

While it was no secret that your father hated the holiday season, that didn’t stop the Bowers gang from putting together the perfect christmas for you.

It took a little bit of convincing i.e threatening on Henry’s part to get the boys to help him out but once he did, they all got to work trying to make it all work.

That meant buying ingredients for cookie dough and cutouts, shopping, anything to make your holiday the best that it could be.

...But first, there was one thing you needed.

“Oh hey, I didn’t know you guys would be here” you hummed, shocked that the guys were standing in your kitchen. It may not have been shocking normally, but this was a Saturday at ten in the morning.

You didn’t even know they got up this early.

“Go get dressed, we have plans today” Henry prompted, eyeing you incredulously from where he was standing. You were still wearing your pajamas and that wasn’t going to work for what he had planned today.

There was a strange tone in his voice, something you hadn’t been expecting, but you knew better than to ask questions. Whatever it was, you were sure it wouldn’t take too much time.

Henry would probably drop you off at the house a little later so he could hang out with the guys at the quarry. Even knowing that though, you went to get dressed just as he’d said and didn’t ask where you were going until the car stopped again.

The Trans Am jolted slightly as Belch pulled into a parking space, causing you to lean a little too much into Patrick’s side.

You were going to apologize to him, but before you could, you glanced out the window to see where you were. You didn’t want to get too excited but you couldn’t help yourself.

It was the Christmas tree lot. 

You really didn’t think you’d be able to come here this year but there was no denying it. Every year, the Derry Christmas tree lot stayed the same, and it was perfect.

To you, Christmas wasn’t Christmas without it.

You couldn’t help the small gasp that left your lips when you realized where you were, your eyes snapping up to Henry’s face as if to clarify what you were assuming.

When he nodded, a small smile creeping onto his lips, it was over. You scrambled to get out of the car, urging Vic to get out as quickly as he could so that you could start looking through the aisles.

From where you were sitting, you couldn’t get there quick enough and didn’t even bother to wait for the boys to get out of the car before taking off.

On occasion, the boys would tease Henry for going so far for your benefit but you were his little sister and he had always done this for you.

It was second nature by now.

...And seeing how happy this made you, they understood why this had been so important to him.

“Christmas trees huh? Who knew” Patrick shrugged, watching the way you buzzed around happily, smelling the fresh fir and pine trees and feeling the needles beneath your fingers.

It was funny, of course, but more than anything, each of the four males were just enjoying the obvious happiness this was giving you.

When Henry told them that you liked going to pick out a Christmas tree every year, they never expected you to like it this much.

“We used to go with mom. I think that’s why she likes it so much” Henry shrugged, heading in your direction without much more than that, only to be followed by the rest of them.

You didn’t like talking about your mother, because she hadn’t come to see either of you in years, and there was no reason for you to care about her. However, there were certain things that just brought back those happy memories.

“You find one you like?” Henry asked, coming up behind you. You were looking at a pretty big fir tree, with big full leaves and a bright green color.

It was a nice one, one that you’d have to put in your bedroom to avoid the wrath of your father but a nice one nonetheless. Even if it was going to be a bitch to transport, if this was what you wanted, he’d figure it out.

“Yeah, isn’t this one pretty?” you hummed, gingerly feeling the needles. It was going to be difficult to get home, but at least you’d gotten one thing right.

It was pretty.

[haydensdelvca]

hiiiii can you please write a Tremmett fic of them going camping as like a vacation but it’s anything but that!

Camping - Tremmett

Thanks for the prompt! I'll admit it was a bit challenging at first - it had me looking up everything from camping movies to raccoons. I enjoyed writing it though - I really hope you like it :)

Emmett scrolled through the list '30 Fun Date Ideas during the Pandemic' which he'd found online. Both him and Travis had taken 3 days off to treat themselves to some well needed time together. With the pandemic, and the exhausting shifts they had lately, they needed to get away for a few days.

Ideally, they would've liked to spend their holidays abroad, however the pandemic they were currently in made that a bit difficult.

"What about camping?" Emmett asked casually, eyes still on the screen.

"Um, no."

Emmett, surprised by how quickly Travis had come to that conclusion, looked up at him, "Why not?"

"When I said I wanted a vacation I meant a nice, relaxing resort or hotel near the sea not the woods," Travis complained.

"Well do you have any better ideas? You know, considering the pandemic and all," Emmett replied. They had been sitting there for an hour trying to come up with something and had gotten nowhere, there seemed to be some sort of limitation for every idea.

"Yes!" Travis exclaimed, serious for a few seconds until his face dropped into a pout and said, "No, no I don't."

Emmett laughed, shaking his head at his boyfriend "You know... the last time I went camping two people got attacked by a bear," Travis reminded him.

"Yeah, I'm so glad I wasn't on that trip," Emmett laughed, lucky to have joined the fire station a few weeks later.

"Are we seriously settling on going camping? I mean, no toilets, no electricity, no internet. Not to mention it's uncomfortable sleeping in a tent."

"But you'll be with me."

"Ok fine. On two conditions though, we make smores and cuddle in the tent."

"Deal," Emmett agreed, smiling at his boyfriend's antics.

"Ok I think we're almost there, get the map out so we can find that spot we picked out."

Emmett reached back and rummaged through one of the many bags they had packed full of things they probably wouldn't even touch. "Oh no."

Travis flipped his head around to look at Emmett, saying "Please don't tell me you forgot the map."

Emmett gave him a guilty look, saying "I swear I packed everything. I'll try look it up on my phone."

"We're not gonna have any signal over here." Travis sighed, parking the car. He rested his head on the steering wheel, letting out a fake cry.

"Ok, ok, we'll figure something out. We can just start walking and find a decent spot," Emmett rambled, annoyed their trip already had a rough start.

As they walked along the path, not wanting to deviate too far from their car due to having no map, they looked for a spot to take post.

"Do you recognise any landmarks from the photos we saw of this place?" Travis asked.

"I don't know, all the trees look the same," Emmett shrugged.

Travis turned to look at Emmett, shaking his head at how useless the both of them were at navigating through the woods without a map.

"You know, at least I didn't forget the food or some—" Emmett started until he felt himself falling forward, grasping Travis' arm to stop himself from falling face first.

"What the — are you ok?" Travis asked as he helped him get back to his feet whose boots were now covered in mud.

"I'm ok, I didn't realise the mud was covering up a slope," Emmett replied hastily as he looked down at his legs covered in mud. He looked up at Travis who had gone from being concerned to trying not to laugh. "Oh this is going so well," the blonde said sarcastically.

"Am I allowed to say I told you so?" Travis smirked back at him.

As the sun started to set, Travis and Emmett had set up their tent in a quiet place and arranged all their belongings. They began picking up some wood to set up a campfire near their tent.

Suddenly, they head loud music coming from a few metres away.

"Oh no, not teenagers," Travis grumbled as he caught a glimpse of a few young girls setting up a tent in the distance.

"Looks like they had the same idea as us," Emmett shrugged.

"Did they seriously have to come so close to us? Now we have to listen to this obnoxious music on our trip!"

"I hate this music as much as you do," Emmett replied, wishing they had picked literally any other place to put their tent.

Travis froze, suddenly hearing loud moans coming from one of the tents in the distance, coming to a realisation of what he was hearing.

"You've got to be kidding me."

"If anything is going to make this trip any better it's smores." Travis said as he brought the sticks and marshmallows over to the campfire, sitting next to Emmett on one of their blankets.

Emmett smiled, resting his head on Travis' shoulder. "Hey, at least it's a bit less noisy now," he added, while holding his marshmallow over the fire.

"I have to admit, this definitely tops my last camping trip. We didn't even have marshmallows last time." "What is with your obsession with smores?" Emmett laughed, finding his boyfriend awfully cute when he complained about the smallest things.

"Hey, when we're out in the woods, miles away from our warm, comforting home I like to have something that's warm and comforting ok?" Travis replied playfully, kissing Emmett as they laid down, looking up at the stars.

"Is that a constellation? It looks a bit like a horse." Emmett said, finally feeling more relaxed.

"I'm pretty sure you didn't discover a new constellation babe," Travis looked at Emmett beside him, admiring his beauty under the starry sky.

"True, it might just be my imagination," Emmett chuckled.

"Do you hear that? A rustling noise," Travis said as he sat upright once again, looking around. Upon further inspection, he noticed what seemed to be a small raccoon piercing holes in a familiar set of boxes, rummaging for food.

"Oh my god what do we do? It's taking our food!" Travis shouts as he realises what it was doing.

"What?" Emmett exclaimed as he quickly got up too. "Oh shit, this is bad."

Thankful that they had remembered to pack all their comfortable blankets and pillows to make the sleeping bag in the tent more cosy, they entered the tent at around midnight. Travis cuddled up against Emmett, trying to conserve as much body heat as they could.

Every few minutes or so, Emmett would hear noises from outside, and flinched slightly each time.

Travis, realising that each noise was scaring Emmett, held him more tightly and said, "This was to be expected, considering we are quite literally in nature and all."

"I know, I know, I keep thinking some sort of creature's going to come get us. I probably shouldn't have watched Friday the 13th that night with Vic before we came here."

"You probably shouldn't have," Travis chuckled as he opened his eyes to look at Emmett. "So a raccoon took half of our food, there are a bunch of loud teenagers having sex across from us, and we'll probably get lost finding our way back to our car tomorrow morning."

"Maybe we should cut the trip short and just book an afternoon at a spa resort tomorrow," Emmett admitted that they did indeed encounter some obstacles.

"Good idea," Travis smiled.

"You still had fun though right? We did meet both your conditions - smores and cuddles in the tent," Emmett winked as he ran his fingers through Travis' hair.

"Of course I did - how can I not enjoy myself when I'm with you?" Travis replied, closing his eyes as he rested against the younger man.

[infinites-chaser]

val’s mementos

(or: a working masterlist of my mlqc fics created mostly for my own sanity)

everything on this list has also been posted to my ao3!

currently accepting prompts from this prompt meme~

(while i will do my very best to fill every prompt with writing that i’m proud of pls keep in mind that some may take longer than others for any amount of reasons!)

Lucien

dark night fireworks- my first (published) mlqc fic <333 2nd person and entirely too pretentious (rumor has it even the author doesn’t really know what she was trying to convey except. n e u r o s c i e n c e and MEMORY is cool). slight spoilers for ch.16

watch the universe expand- a long, rambly attempt to explore lucien’s character and also evolutionary biology and evols told through excessive metaphor and bedtime stories. spoilers for lucien’s childhood and ch.13. im proud of this one ^^ though there is a lot of projection involved. also lucien is an enneagram five.

to dwell on- c: lucien and homes and him and mc being soft together that’s it <3 or in more coherent language some bittersweet fluff for lucien’s bday based on moments from his mini-house and his most recent bday karma + date. in hindsight i’ve realized i didn’t use his or MC’s name at all outside of dialogue LOL

king lear and other tragedies- a prompt for the librarian ask meme linked above! im p sure anon prompted me a month before i got around to actually writing an answer hndkslgj but. here we are. shakespeare and tragedies and parallels between characters and a lot of pretentious dialogue, meant to be an extension of/missing scene after lucien’s theater date. this only rly exists bc of a single line in the date mentioning the production being put on was king lear and i took that and ran for all it was worth

Gavin

just a summer thing- a short little scenario that manifested in my head one warm summer night when i should’ve been sleeping and my first foray into domestic!gavin territory <333 i’d say it’s probably one of my lightest fics, if not the lightest ahfksldg (also heavily inspired by the way @belovedstill writes gavin/mc pst basia’s fics are to die for)

under a golden sun- high school era gavin, MC and minor! originally intended for gavin’s bday except (1) i didn’t finish on time LOL and (2) the fic never mentions his bday oops. also in 2nd person though if you asked why i couldn’t tell you it just felt more right. ft. basketball and memories and a bit of bittersweet nostalgia. simultaneously has some of what i think is my weakest writing (in terms of pacing/consistent tone imo) and some of my favorite lines i’ve ever written for a gavin fic and i’ve come to appreciate it more over time bc of that c:

today, this is the whole universe (and that’s okay)- gavin, MC, and domestic, sleepy sundays. and a long ao3 title that’s it that’s the fic (narrator: and then, she never wrote anything purely fluffy ever again). heavily inspired by gavin’s sleepy morning asmr and that one clip of his cn voice actor playing/humming his theme (aka soft soft SOFTEST) also just. i said it already but all of my domestic!gavin is inspired by and exists thanks to the breathtaking writing of @belovedstill <333

in the wind- a semi(?)exploration of gavin’s wind but also just him loving mc bc that’s what he and his evol are all about. short and bittersweet <3 (if anyone’s keeping track i think this is where my writing starts to lean more on the uhhh descriptive side and becomes less dialogue-based? or i feel there’s a diff from this writing style compared to the earlier gavin fics (besides parts of under a golden sun) which is just interesting for me to think about but not relevant to the fic itself ahfklsdf) 

winter’s end- winter world!gavin and mc and a softer, more bittersweet reunion. m a j o r spoilers for ch.22 and what comes before. also gavin’s past. it hurt to write and apparently hurts to read b u t there’s a happy ending. i promise c:

sunrise to noon- a secret santa fic that ended up being less holiday related than I originally intended but like all things domestic and Gavin I think it works well as it is <3 just tender winter mornings and domesticity and the return of my fluff writing

Kiro

falling down the stairs of your smile- this was a prompt for the librarian prompt meme and doesn’t have an official title on the ask but here’s the title in all its long all-lowercase ao3 glory. basically the first few chapters from kiro’s perspective with slight spoilers from his past! kiro is such a joy to write and i love this a lot and im super glad i got the opportunity to write this (the waY i banged this out in one night when i got the ask askfsdkfksl)

[deleted by Key]- i have an idea and i’m s u p e r excited about it but no spoilers except this quote: ‘But that is how a tragedy like ours or King Lear breaks your heart— by making you believe that the ending might still be happy, until the very last minute.’- If We Were Villains, M.L. Rio.

Victor

Of Corgis and Christmas- a secret santa present for a victor stan that conjured some fluffy victor writing from my victor-less heart,,, a christmas miracle aND im lowkey proud of how it turned out but the highlights of the fic are Goldman and Cindy T-T they deserve more screentime and someday. i will write the subplot that got cut where Goldman sends Cindy embarrassing Victor stories to try to impress her and MC helps :>

spend my whole life searching- i combined 2 victor librarian asks from the librarian prompt meme above would u believe he's the only suitor I got twice 😔 this man is so popular and for what (only kidding ahdjdjs we just have a relationship of mutual disapproval dont mind me dragging him just a little i need to compensate for the appreciation I developed for him while writing this :>) this is similar to the kiro librarian fic in that it kinda gives vic's perspective on victor/MC's first in-game meeting with a healthy dose of and they were soulmates and angsty longing™ and also. victor is an enneagram one

Shaw

i started a few things a long time ago for him maybe someday i’ll finish them :’)

[sunflowersteves]

𝒉𝒐𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒄𝒐𝒂 ❅ 𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒍𝒕

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: Geralt can never seem to get enough of your homemade hot cocoa.

author’s note: sorry this is a little late! i kept getting distracted by everything lmao. I hope you enjoy!

warnings: pure tooth-rotting fluff, not edited

holiday prompts m.list

Geralt starts to stir in the bed as a fresh wave of spices and mixtures spring up into his nose. His arm reaches over to the other side of the bed to find your absence, and his breathing becomes quickened.

He looked over to the half-opened window, the night sky shuttered with darkness as light snowflakes fell softly to the ground. A breeze that flew in through that window made him shiver, the cold prickling goosebumps across his skin. The sheets pool around his hips as he sits up, one of his hands coming to move parts of his hair out of his face.

And then he got another whiff of that smell, it was sweet and delicate, but the aroma surged with spices. He grabs the first items of clothing that he sees on the floor and shuffles them on as quickly as he can. He then walks out of the chambers to find the warmth of the fire swirled through his body.

“Where have you gone, my love?”

You peek your head over from where the kitchen sat and run over to him giggling wildly. Out of habit, his arms open in a tender embrace, and you immediately reach up on your tippy-toes to wrap your arms around his neck. A large smile stretches upon his face when you jump slightly, and he catches you instantly, your legs wrapped around his immense torso.

“You’ve awoken, my beloved!”

His heart soars at the little nickname; the slow beating of his mutated heart always did that when you were around or when you spoke with such elegance. He never would’ve thought that someone would want to live a long life with him. He never thought he’d fall in love in the first place either.

“You weren’t there in my arms as I woke. You startled me, my love.”

You pressed light kisses on his cheekbone and slowly led down to the base of his chin. His arms tightened slightly around the small of your back, your toes curling at the sight of one of the softest smiles you’ve ever seen on the man.

“You seemed to be so exhausted from your last adventure. I didn’t want to wake you in your peaceful state.”

He hummed against your temple before giving it a quick kiss. His eyes tipped over to the pot over the fire in curiosity. A smile worms its way onto your face as you feel him stalk over towards the luscious smell of sweet confections.

He breathed in once more to smell the soothing and richness of the chocolate that bubbled in the pot below. His mouth watered at the smell of cinnamon, cloves, and roasted nuts churning around in rich chocolate brew. He took a step back to let you out of his arms and his body already ached for the feeling to be on yours again.

“What have you conjured up, little dove?”

You take the ladle above the fireplace and gently stir the mixture, making sure that nothing would stick to the bottom of the pot. Geralt watches from afar as you take the hot brew to your lips for a taste, the thickening liquid like velvet on your tongue.

“My family used to make hot cocoa on snowy days when we would be outside playing until the sun went down. My mother would always insist that we have at least one cup to get us warm again,” you laughed slightly at the warmed memory, “we would always end up drinking about three cups before passing out near the fire.”

Geralt continues to stare with adoration as you grab a mug from the dining table. Jaskier had bought you the cup on his and Geralt’s travels for a wedding gift. He always knew how much you appreciated the small things.

You placed the steaming chocolate inside the mug and did so until it was full. Geralt offered a smile when you handed him the heated and now full mug. You did the same for yourself and almost laughed at your state from your mouth begging to bet a taste.

When you turned around, you saw that he had moved towards the dining table, and his large thighs dominated the area so much so that they couldn’t fit to where the table legs stood.

You walked over to his broad structure and placed a hand on his shoulder in a loving touch. You watched as he took a small sip of the hot cocoa, his eyes dilating as the thick chocolate hit his tongue. He tasted the tangy darkness of cinnamon and the woody spice of nutmeg, and he savored the light fluttery flavor of vanilla. The spiced treat followed down his gullet, and he could’ve sworn it was the best thing he had ever tasted.

You laughed lightly as he turned to you with a shocked look. You knew he didn’t care much for beverages such as these; the only one he really understood was ale. However, he seemed utterly delighted by your concoction of the treat and your heartbeat wildly as he went in for another sip.

A hand immediately attached itself to your waist to secure you in and pulled you into his lap. A smirk etched onto his lips at your yelp, and it was very fortunate that none of the drink had spilled on the two of you.

“I love you, little dove.”

Your hands press themselves against the sweltering mug, and you relished in the feeling of it heating into your skin. His eyes flickered down to your lips as you take another sip of the spiced cocoa, a small dribble stuck in the corner of your mouth.

His thumb comes up to gently wipe it, a teasing gaze boring into yours as he places it into his mouth and sucks to grab the most of the creamy drink. You smile so brightly at him that warmth spreads out through his whole body, especially when you lean in and whisper the next words.

“I love you too, my beloved.”

witcher: @angelinathebook  @harrysthiccthighss  @borkingbarnes @dreams-of-sunlight-and-starfire

permanent: @captainchrisstan  @angstysebfan  @teenagereadersciencenerd  @rebekahdawkins  @hailmary-yramliah  @buckybarnesplumwhore  @stardust-galaxies  @wiccanmetallicrose  @keithseabrook27 

[anamatics]

Send a ship and I’ll tell you who: Fleurmione 🥺

Here have some stuff form the Teenagers Universe, some spoilers as this is mostly set in the aftermath as that’s what I’m writing now. Slight CW for dealing with the aftermath of trauma.

Gives nose/forehead kisses

Probably Fleur, she's the more affectionate of the two of them, but when Fleur dozes off in the middle of a translation, half-read books of runic poetry scattered across the desk and crumpled bits of parchment scatted on the floor. Hermione drapes a blanket over Fleur's shoulders and gently shakes her awake. "Come to bed," she says. She bends and presses her lips to Fleur's forehead. "The runes will still be there in the morning."

Gets jealous the most

Jealousy was reserved for that one time that Hermione had a maybe-almost-something with Pansy that blossomed into what even Fleur agrees is one of the healthiest friendships either of them has. And besides, Hermione had that mortifying moment with Professor McGonagall that was, well, enlightening for everyone. When Pansy finds out about that during a party she laughs for a good ten minutes before giving Hermione a slow once-over and announcing, “I stand by my point about degenerates and nerds from fifth year.”

Hermione doesn’t hex her, but it’s a close thing.

Picks the other up from the bar when they’re too drunk to drive

So maybe Ron splitches himself once too many, and Hermione’s started to just take the night tube back to White City. It’s easier, honestly. Living in a space that straddles both muggle and wizarding London has left her so accustomed to occupying both spaces that it seems the natural option. When she and Fleur get caught in the turnstiles, and neither of them can quite get their oyster cards to read, they realize that they’re in their late thirties and probably should not be out so late when they have children waiting for them at home. But Pansy throws the best parties and the sitter’s agreed to stay late while they explain to the TFL attendant that they’re not too drunk to get on the train, and no one will get sick. 

Takes care of on sick days

Here’s the thing. Wizards don’t get sick the way muggles do, no, they have ailments of the wizarding kind that Hermione’s got no idea how to deal with them when she first encounters a case of dragon pox on her third day of residency at the Queen Vic’s A&E. She still gets headcolds and a flu shot every year because in the eyes of magic she’s more muggle than witch. Fleur attempts to make soup, and, despite Hermione having (relatively) mastered cooking, she’s still not the best at it. When she ends up disappearing for twenty minutes and coming back with a packet of instant noodles from the corner shop, Hermione just sniffles and smiles woozily at Fleur. “Hate that you can’t catch this.”

“I’d rather you didn’t catch it either,” Fleur replies. “Perhaps this is a lesson about refusing to take the floo or apparating to work?”

“I will die before I floo willingly and you like taking the train as much as I do.” Hermione takes the chopsticks offers her and sits up, frowning at the instant noodles. Even through her clogged nose, Hermione recognizes the scent of peppers. “The Korean one?”

“To clear your sinuses,” Fleur answers. 

Drags the other person out into the water on beach day

Here’s the thing, the water’s cold and Hermione isn’t going to just get in it without prompting. She’s brought a book to read, a fiction book. She’s taking a break from all the academic reading and reading a novel that Pansy’s recommended in the shy, hesitant way that Pansy does anything that matters. She’s been working her way through the wizarding classics, but this novel is new - just published. Pansy’d been insistent, and when it’d arrived in the post Hermione understood why. She’s not a fool, and she recognizes a pseudonym and a barely disguised dedication. 

Fleur’s standing by the water, ankle-deep in the chalk-colored water, waving at her. Hermione sets the book aside moves to join Fleur, their fingers tangling together as they wade out into the water, staring across the channel at the French coast. 

“I can’t believe she kept her hobby a secret,” Hermione comments. “Dunno how she has the time between doing all those proofs for work and taking care of the kids while Hannah works nights.”

“I think she wanted to impress up on the world that no one truly knows her,” Fleur answers. 

“Very Slytherin.”

“Quite.”

Gives unprompted massages

It used to be that touch was something they both craved, having spent so much of their early relationship apart. Now, when Hermione gets home at half ten from a shift at St. Mungo’s that turned into a shift and a half dealing with a magical catastrophe so bad that they’d had to call Andromeda back from Reading to even begin to make sense of what had happened. Near-fatal organ damage from accidental magic was something Hermione was used to dealing with, but this, threaded with something think and dark and particularly nasty that sat like oil amidst the child’s blood was not her area of expertise. She’s dead on her feet, and her patient is barely stabilized by the time she’s comfortable leaving. She collapses on the sofa when she arrives back at Catterlily Place, half asleep as she melts into the soft cushions. 

“How bad?” Fleur asks. She’s got her glasses perched on her nose and is already bending to pull Hermione’s trainers from her feet. Her fingers dig into Hermione’s sore, aching feet, and Hermione cannot say anything at all, knowing full-well that there’s a chance the patient won’t survive the night. 

“We had to call Andy back from Reading.”

“Oh, chérie.” Fleur’s hands still and she pushes herself to her feet, settling next to Hermione and wrapping her arms around Hermione’s shaking shoulders. “You are so, so good at what you do, Hermione. So is Madame Tonks. It’ll be okay.”

Drives/rides shotgun

“I think this is a threat to public safety,” Fleur says as Hermione adjusts the seat and fiddles with the height of the steering wheel. She walks around to the passenger side of their rented hatchback, and climbs awkwardly into the seat. “We could be killed in this deathtrap. We are witches. We do not have to drive anywhere.”

“Fleur,” Hermione says with grave seriousness. “Sometimes things that are easier... are worse.”

As they drive away from Reykjavik and into the Icelandic wilderness, Fleur’s breath catches and Hermione’s smile grows smug. This was going to be a fun holiday.

Brings the other lunch at work

It takes over a year for the goblins to allow Hermione back into Gringotts. She runs into Damien Betz when she’s ducking into Fleur’s office on the second floor with with a bag from Pret and two coffees during her lunch break at the Queen Vic. “Mademoiselle Granger,” Damien says. “Bonjour.”

“Salut Damien,” Hermione says. She tilts her head toward Fleur’s office door. “Is she in?”

He nods, but bends close. He’s clearly just had his line done, as it looks as though a razor has carefully sculpted the shape of his bangs against his forehead. “This morning,” he bites his lip, frowning, “didn’t go well.”

The Blakeley Vault has been a nightmare for the entire curse breaking team for weeks now. “I’ll bear that in mind,” Hermione says. “It was nice to see you, Damien.”

He waves his hand, and Hermione moves toward Fleur’s office with purpose.

Has the better parental relationship

When Paulie drops them back at the hostel, she again offers them a chance to stay at her place with her husband. “It’s no trouble, really,” she says. She drums her fingers on the steering wheel. “I know this hasn’t been an easy day - being surrounded by muggles,” she wrinkles her nose looking the hostel’s shabby exterior over, “does not sound like my kind evening.” 

In her distaste, Hermione is able to look through the haze of sadness that’s come over her to see Pansy in Paulie - the Parkinson upbringing creeping through despite the fact that this woman has a muggleborn witch as a mother, despite the fact that she’s helped Hermione undo all the damage she’s done to her parents, despite the fact that she’s being so kind to two complete strangers,  she’s still a Parkinson at heart. 

“It’s alright, Paulie, thank you though.” Hermione says. “I expect there will be a lot of days like this before things get better.”

Later, Fleur holds her and promises her that it will get better. “At least your mum can stand to look at you,” Hermione says through the tears. 

Tries to start role-playing in bed

“Grab the headboard,” Fleur says. Her hair is mussed, lipstick smeared across her cheek. They’d been out at a ministry function, but all it had taken was one lingering look from Hermione, her lips closing around the olive in her martini, to have Fleur pulling her into a darkened alcove and pushing her up against the wall. Hermione doesn’t mind when this part of Fleur comes out, the part that’s content to kiss her like she’s damnation and salvation at once. Hermione’s hands found their way under Fleur’s tailored jacket (she’d insisted on attempting a menswear look to compliment the dress Hermione’d found while out with Pansy and Ginny a few days back and the final product had Hermione’s mouth dry even before they’d left the house), and she’s whispering about finding somewhere more private. 

Hermione grabs the headboard, and Fleur’s straddling her hips, eyes dark and wild. Fleur reaches for her wand, raises an eyebrow. “Will you let go?” she asks. “If I say you can’t?”

Swallowing, Hermione shakes her head. “I won’t.”

But then Fleur’s using a severing charm on her dress, leaning over her with a sinful smile. She bends to kiss Hermione and the whole world is closing in on that one moment and Hermione can’t breathe, she cant--- When the world relaxes and Hermione’s body starts to untense, she’s sobbing, back in the terrible memory of that night at Malfoy Manor and Fleur’s gathering her up in her arms and apologizing over and over again. 

Embarrassingly drunk dancer

It takes nearly three years before Hermione is comfortable going to a club again. Being trapped in the dark, surrounded by people she can’t see, whose faces are obscured and then illuminated by flashing lights is enough to send Hermione into panics that last two or three days. So they go out to warmly lit pubs full of old men who look them over before shrugging and turning their attention back to their conversations instead. On a warm night, when they’ve shared a pitcher of Pims with Harry, Ron, and Ginny, Fleur gets to unsteady feet and asks Hermione if she’d like to dance to the song that’s playing lowly from the wireless in the corner. To her credit, she nearly manages to execute the proper steps to the dance before they tumble together, clinging to each other as they sway to the music.

“This is so disgustingly adorable I need to get a camera,” Pansy comments, sliding into the seat Hermione’s vacated. There’s a large diamond on her ring finger, which is, ostensibly, the reason they’re all out. Hannah didn’t wait long. She pours the remainder of the pitcher into the final clean glass, fishing out cucumber and crunching on it thoughtfully. “When are you two getting married?”

Hermione shrugs, and Fleur just laughs.

“I mean they sort of are married,” Ron says.

“Totally,” Ginny agrees.

Harry buries his head in his hands and groans. Pansy reaches over and pats him on the back before drawing Ginny into a conversation about the ring. Hermione rests her head on Fleur’s shoulder. “We should do that, you know.”

“Let Pansy have her fun,” Fleur says. She presses a kiss to Hermione’s forehead. “There’s a lifetime for us.” 

Still cries watching Titanic

They go to the cinema not long after the war ends, and Hermione very bluntly asks for the attendant what the longest film that’s playing’s run time is. They’re avoiding her parents, who are desperate to reconnect since she’s retrieved them from Australia, and avoiding Fleur’s, who’ve come across the channel to meet Hermione’s parents. When Fleur’s mother had summarily dismissed them as they all traipsed up from the basement dining room of the charming French restaurant near the National Gallery Hermione’s parents knew, they didn’t need telling twice. The conversation thus far had been mortifying, and they’re both eager to get away form the nightmare that is the combined powers of their parents. They offer to meet back up for tea in a few hours, and disappear off to the cinema, where they sit in the very back row leaning on each other and sob through the ending together.

Firmly believes in couples costumes

Hermione hates fancy dress parties and balls, but after the war they become all the rage within her friends group. Something about going out as someone else appeals to so many of them, as they’ve all been forced to be celebrities despite their best efforts to avoid the spotlight. Harry and Ginny always go as famous quidditch players with period-appropriate gear and think they’re terribly original. Hermione lets herself be talked into floor length gowns and togas and, one memorable time, a full pirate costume by Fleur. She wears what she’s told and when Fleur finds a way to use the costumes to drive her wild throughout the night with slips of skin and lingering touches, Hermione doesn’t have any cause to complain.

Breaks the expensive gift rule during Christmas

The ring, when it does come, is presented on Christmas morning at Fleur’s parents’ house in full view of Fleur’s mother and grandmother. Gabrielle is distracted with a new book from her father and Phillipe has been drawn into explaining some of the diagrams at the back of it. Fleur holds out the small box to Hermione with some trepidation, looking from her mother to grandmother. “Oh just give it to her Fleur,” her grandmother finally snaps. “You’ve waited long enough.”

"Fleur?” Hermione asks. 

“You once gave me the soul of the world,” Fleur says quietly. 

“Because it never ends,” Hermione breathes. Her fingers tremble as she opens the box. The ring is beautiful, and when Fleur puts in on her finger it feels as though Hermione’s come home after a long, long time away.

Makes the other eat breakfast

“You need to eat, chérie,” Fleur says. 

Hermione, where she’s been pacing up and down the length of the flat, looks to where Fleur’s standing in the kitchen holding out an energy bar. “I can’t,” she says. “If I eat I’ll get sick and I have to pass this exam today or I will never get the job at St. Mungo’s.”

Fleur’s lips press together into a thin line. She steps into the path of Hermione’s pacing and places her hands on Hermione’s shoulders. “You already have the job at St. Mungo’s. You know as well as I do that Blacks do not stick their necks out for just anyone. If Andromeda says you’re ready, you’re ready.” 

Hermione opens her mouth to protest, but she knows Fleur’s right. Her teeth click as she closes her mouth. 

Fleur’s expression softens. “Now, please, eat.”

Remembers anniversaries

It’s late February when Hermione suggests they go out somewhere nice. Fleur smiles fondly from her translation. “What’s the occasion?”  

“You kissed me for the first time five years ago today.”

Brings up having kids

“There are potions for that, Healer Granger, if you’re at all interested in such things.”

Hermione splutters, nearly spitting her coffee out as she stares across the breakroom table at Andromeda. “Why Healer Tonks,” she says, picking her words carefully. She’s been lamenting to her colleague that Fleur’s mentioned children for the third time in as many weeks and it’s about to turn into a conversation. “Are you offering to brew for me?”

“Well, I was going to offer my sister’s services,” Andromeda says, sipping her tea. “She’s been complaining to me that she’s bored now that the divorce has gone through.”

Hermione does spit out her coffee this time. “I will not have your sister brewing--” 

“Merlin, Hermione, you’re far too easy.”

[moonlightserenadeeznutz]

This might be over specific feel free to ignore but, Teddy going round to shell cottage to meet Vic and being cornered by Bill, and then later Fleur about how to treat their daughter and Teddy just 👁👄👁? (Also with gender queer teddy if you don't mind?) Once again sorry for how specific this is haha 😅

Definitely won’t ignore it! Thank you for the prompt! Hope you enjoy :)

~ It had been a while since Teddy had been to Shell Cottage. They used to spend summers here all the time as a child, playing on the beach with Victoire, swimming in the sea until the sun grew too hot and the two were called inside for lemonade. But once Teddy left for Hogwarts, they tended to spend holidays with their godparents or at the Burrow when they weren’t with their gran, because they missed Harry and Ginny, and Molly and Arthur. They saw Victoire all the time at Hogwarts. They spent hours with her, in the library or the Hufflepuff common room, or in the courtyard reading and playing gobstones. So Shell Cottage became rather distant.

However, when Teddy and Victoire started dating, they thought that a trip to her parents’ house was long overdue.

They were nervous, naturally, about meeting Vic’s parents, despite the fact that they had known Bill and Fleur for their whole life. But it was different now. Teddy was dating their daughter, and Teddy wasn’t sure if they’d approve.

Teddy was well-loved within the Potter-Weasley family. They were the Golden Child; the older sibling to every cousin; the last trace of Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks, and when they started dating Victoire, no one was surprised. The two had been infatuated with each other since childhood, almost inseparable. A romance between them was frankly inevitable. But still... would Bill and Fleur approve?

When Teddy had come out as pansexual, they were accepted immediately, and Victoire made it clear that nothing had changed between them.

When Teddy came out as non-binary, a few of the older members of the family needed some time to get to grips with what that meant, as well as get used to using they/them pronouns to refer to them, but all in all, they were quickly accepted. And once again, Victoire made it clear that nothing had changed between them.

Their relationship was strong, and Teddy hoped that Bill and Fleur would be able to see that.

When Teddy arrived at Shell Cottage, they were rather pleased to see that hardly anything had changed. The beach was still the same, the house was still the same, even the wind chimes hanging from the front porch were still the same.

Teddy knocked on the door; they had decided to make a proper entrance rather than floo in, so they had apparated just beyond the sand dunes.

Victoire opened the door. Her face lit up when she saw them.

“Teddy!” She hugged them in greeting. Teddy hugged her back, breathing in her sweet perfume. “Come in!” Teddy walked the familiar route from the entrance hall into the kitchen, where Bill was standing over a sizzling pan of something that smelt very good.

“Wotcher, Teddy,” Bill greeted when he saw them. “Good to see you. It’s been ages!”

“Yeah,” replied Teddy. “Sorry about that.”

“That’s alright, we’ve got enough kids to keep track of as it is.” He grinned, and as he did, Fleur walked through the doorway, her usual presence instantly becoming the most noticable thing in the room. She spotted Teddy, and flung her arms out excitedly.

“Teddy! I didn’t know you were coming! Come here, cherie, it is so good to see you!” Teddy had barely taken a step towards her before she smothered them in an embrace and kissed them on both cheeks.

“Calm down, maman, you’ll suffocate them,” joked Victoire. Fleur let go but was still smiling. Victoire cleared her throat. “Now that you’re both here,” she began. “Teddy and I have something to tell you.” Teddy looked at her. Now? They thought. The two had been discussing this for weeks now, but Teddy still felt the desire to put it off for as long as possible. Victoire took no notice of them.

Bill and Fleur gave the couple their full attention, though a slight look of concern flashed across both of their faces, not knowing what Teddy and Victoire were going to tell them.

“You might want to sit down,” said Teddy. Bill and Fleur looked even more worried, but obeyed nonetheless.

“No, you don’t have to,” added Victoire, noting her parents’ tenseness. “Teddy, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“What’s not a big deal?” Asked Bill. Victoire hesitated before spitting it out, and Teddy was grateful that she had done it instead of them.

“Teddy and I are... are dating. We’re a couple.” She said it quickly, and she and Teddy waited in silence for a response.

Bill spoke first.

“Right... okay... I suppose it’s... no surprise...” he ran a hand through his long hair. “How long have you two been dating?”

“Little over two months,” replied Teddy, who felt like they should say something,  if only to not stand there awkwardly.

“Maman? What do you think?” Prompted Victoire. Fleur had yet to say anything, but she cleared her throat, ready to speak.

“Alors, I think zis is very good news. You two, are you... are you ‘appy?”

“Really happy!” Enthused Victoire. Teddy nodded as they put an arm around Victoire’s shoulder.

“Well zen zat is what is important, isn’t it, Bill?”

“Yes, absolutely!” Victoire and Teddy both smiled with relief. It had gone as well as they’d hoped, and now they no longer had to hide their relationship from Victoire’s parents anymore.

Bill stood up.

“Do you mind if I have a word with Teddy for a minute, Vic?” He asked, making Teddy suddenly think that they’d celebrated too early.

“Why?” Said Victoire.

“Don’t look so worried, I’m not going to hurt them,” Bill chuckled. Victoire looked from her father to Teddy, weighing up the options.

“Alright,” she sighed. “But don’t go all dad mode on them.” Bill put up his hands.

“You have my word.” Victoire squeezed Teddy’s hand and left the room.

“I’ll go with her,” offered Fleur, taking the cue from her husband and following her daughter out of the kitchen.

“I’m not in trouble am I?” Asked Teddy feebly, once the two girls were out of ear-shot. Bill was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed lazily against his chest.

“Nah! Come on, mate, how long have you known me? Contrary to what my kids  tell me, I’m pretty chilled out. And I’ve known you your whole life. I knew your parents too. I wouldn’t trust anyone with my daughter as much as I trust you. But I’m still Vic’s dad, and I still have a duty towards her. So I’m here to remind you that she’s young. She’s naive. And she’s trusting. And while that makes her sweet and lovely and what have you, it also makes her vulnerable and impressionable. And at the end of the day, Ted, you’re older than her.”

“I know, sir.” Teddy had never called Bill ‘sir’ before, but they felt that it was appropriate at this point in time.

“I don’t want you to force her to do anything she doesn’t want to do. I don’t imagine you will, because you’re a good kid, but you may get caught up in the moment and forget. So if you ever see Vic getting uncomfortable, you better stop whatever the hell you’re doing.”

“Yes, of course. I’d never make her feel uncomfortable.” Bill nodded.

“I know you won’t, and I trust you won’t, but I swear to Merlin, Ted, if you ever hurt my daughter I won’t hesitate to hex you.” Teddy almost wanted to laugh at the threat, but Bill seemed so genuinely serious that they didn’t think it would be wise.

“I promise I won’t hurt a single hair on her head. If I did I’d hex myself.” Bill let out a shadow of his usual grin, walked over to Teddy and patted them on the shoulder.

“I know, mate,” he said, and the two smiled, a shared bond momentarily passing between them over their love for Victoire Weasley, and Teddy felt closer to Bill than he’d ever done before.

~ Teddy stayed for dinner, and all six of them- including Dominique and Louis- sat round the dining table, laughing and chatting like old times. Dominique and Louis were glad to hear that Teddy and Victoire’s relationship was officially out in the open. They’d already known about it, and were starting to get tired of hiding it from their parents.

After dinner had finished and the plates had been washed up and put away, Teddy decided that they’d better get back to their gran’s house. Dominique and Louis said goodbye, Victoire kissed them and Bill shook their hand.

Fleur caught them in the hall when they were putting their jacket on.

“I assume Bill gave you the the whole look-after-her and don’t-hurt-her speech?” She said. Teddy nodded. “Oui, it is a father’s job. But... seriously. Be careful. She loves you so much. She always has done. If you hurt her, it will break her. Please don’t do that.” Teddy looked at her. She was speaking gently, yet the pleading in her voice was evident. Teddy felt their chest constrict, especially at Fleur’s statement that Victoire loved them. Teddy couldn’t help but hug her.

“I promise. I will never hurt Victoire,” they confidently, and almost fiercely, assured.

“Je sais, cherie,” she replied, hugging them back. “You are a good kid. A very good kid.”

~ This was fun to write! And I’ll start working on your other request too!

[felicia-parker]

Prompt: 01 - “No, come back!”  Fandom: dcau/dc comics  (the huntress/the question) Rating: T TW: none.

He often forgets how Gotham really smells when he returns. It smells like a mix of industrial pollution, brackish water from the harbors, and nothing at all like Hub City. He leaves the train with his head ducked down, hat on his head, no one notices him anyways in the flurry of snow falling in the city for the first time all year. People are already complaining of scraping driveways come morning, but he ignores them all as he passes. His mask is balled up in his pocket, bare face being kissed by flurries. It makes his cheeks match his hair. Vic shoves his hands in his pockets, feeling for his gloves and hastily shoving them on his quickly numbing fingers. 

“I should call…” He mutters to himself, “that’s what you do.” 

He tries to pull up the social cues she has so painstakingly drilled into him on the last six months, twenty-one days, fourteen hours, and thirty-five minutes. She reminds him to call since he refuses to text, there’s too many hands those messages could fall into, cell phones aren’t safe but the Government is slowly killing the payphones making his anonymity harder and harder. Helena gave him a phone, sleek and black, the screen already has a chip from him dropping it after a night of scrolling internet sleuthing led to him falling asleep in his favorite chair, the phone becoming victim to the floor. He only has one contact in it,  one photo, no messages, one voice mail saved-- she had pocket dialed him, her useless mutterings forever recorded on his digital answering machine.

He listens to it when the nights get a little too long and the trains stop running.

Vic pulls out the phone and double taps the little screen. It illuminates amongst the darkness of the city and he stops on the sidewalk to quickly type in a code too long for anyone to memorize, before turning it back off and stuffing it down in his pocket. He decides he doesn’t need to call. If he has anyone tailing him, they can’t know where he’s going. Vic glances over his shoulder.

The paranoia is getting a little worse, but Helena doesn’t seem to mention it anymore. She just sighs and reminds him of how many ‘bad guys’ she’s tossed into gutters. It doesn’t soothe him like she thinks it does, but he lets her brag until she’s content. He crosses the street right over the crosswalk which leads him into a burrow of the city. Tall buildings are illuminated with door lights and street lights that seem to stretch on for an eternity. All of the buildings look the same, except every other one has another color slapped onto the brick. They are all cookie-cutter, cheap apartments, ones that the working class usually fill.

He walks until his feet start to ache, the old dress shoes he’s wearing are worn down, dried blood is caked on the underside of the heels, excellent for remaining invisible, poor for snowy nights in a city that didn’t particularly belong to him.  Vic stops outside of a light gray building on the corner and begins to count the windows. On the sixth floor he sees the light on, the fire escape is decorated with a dying plant and nothing else, window closed and curtains open.  When a shadow passes by the glass, his heart skips a beat and he glances up to the sky overhead. The clouds are thick and dark, no moon, no infamous signal in the sky.

He breathes a sigh of relief and begins to climb. The old iron squeaks every few steps, he notes the rust on the third floor and makes a mental note to not put too much weight there on his way back down and climbs until his breath clouds the window of the sixth floor, corner apartment. The edges of her window are slick with moisture, she must have cooked tonight, filled her apartment with the heat of the kitchen as she worked. His gloved fingers trace over the sill and he moved to lift the glass.  It didn’t budge. She had locked it for once.

The sound of the television vibrates against the window and he peers in with hands cupped around his face to see her stretched out on the couch, papers everywhere, red pen between her lips as she holds a paper above her head. Her hair is spilling over the couch in wave of dark curls and he marvels in the simplicity of it all. She looks absolutely normal.

Helena is anything but normal. He knows this. He dares to even love such an idea, of this woman who is an unstoppable force with no concept of white and black, her world is shades of gray and personal vendettas.  Helena stretches once more on the couch, taking the red pen from her mouth to mark something on the paper with ease.  

He knocks, the pen goes wild over the page as she all but throws herself off of the couch and onto the floor. A momentary flash of fear crosses her face, followed by anger as she pulls her pen up like mini dagger, set to throw it with deadly precision at the window when she recognizes the outline of him. Her shoulders sag and she stomps over to the window. In one quick yank the glass comes up and he’s met with the lingering smell of homemade food, warm and tinged with garlic, but all of it is forgotten as she shouts at him with her voice sharper than any knife.

“You’re supposed to call! I gave you a phone Q!” Helena’s cheeks are flushed red, her teeth are clenched tightly together and he can see the muscle in her jaw is strained. Anger radiates from her form.

“I wanted to…”

“No!” She shouts the word and slams the window back down in his face. It’s a miracle the glass stays in place. She keeps her hand on the window, glaring at him when he takes the step back to leave. A minute ticks by and then a second, a third, and finally he backs up to go back down the escape, shoulders slumping. He should have called, he should have warned her, should have asked if she even wanted to see him after being apart for so long.

His foot touches down on the ladder when he hears the window open back up, “No, come back!”

Her voice isn’t as angry and this time her hand reaches into the cold for his. She manages to grab hold of his coat sleeve, pulling him impatiently over the threshold. Vic stumbles a bit, but once he’s inside she closes the window behind him, putting the lock in place before grabbing at his coat again. Helena is far from gentle. She pulls at his coat until he’s leaning over, close enough for her mouth to find his. She kisses him until he’s gasping for air, until he has to pull back to recover his bearings.

His eyes glance over her  living quarters,  there’s a half-decorated tree in the corner where her desk usually sits, the desk now stowed away for the holidays no doubt, leading to all the school papers being strewn across her coffee table and couch, markers and highlighters all around. The television drones on and on with the nightly news bleeding into a late night talk-show.

“Am I…” He clears his throat, “Not welcome?”

“Don’t be an idiot.” She waves a hand at him, reaching behind him to pull the blinds down, drawing the curtains for privacy. “I just wish you would use that phone.”

“Trackable.”

“Yeah, that’s why I got it for you. I’d like to know when you’re coming here. It’s not like we have…” It’s her turn to trail off and she walks to the kitchen as she does so, opening the fridge and pulling out the leftovers of her dinner to warm up for him. He doesn’t tell her no. Vic learned a long time ago to never reject food from her.  Helena mutters something else and slides the homemade plate of lasagna into the microwave.

“Are you listening?” She asks him.

“Yes. No set schedule.” He nods to her and stands still for a minute too long, feeling like an obscure piece of furniture in her little home. His own home is empty, soulless, untraceable.  Hers is full of art, plates, second-hand furniture, and little things here and there that just fit the woman in the kitchen.

The microwave dings as she’s pulling a glass out of the cabinet and setting him a place at her kitchen bar, “Come, eat.”

He eats like a starving man. A home cooked meal is such a rarity in his life, something he only gets when Helena is around. She refuses to eat an abundance of ready-to-eat frozen meals, instead spending hours in the grocery store to find fresh ingredients, an unnecessary thing in his world.  Helena pours herself another glass of wine, gives him one too but he only sips that, going back to scraping the fork over the plate until it’s all gone.

“Thank you,” He murmurs the soft appreciation, he no longer feels cold, but warmed from the inside out. She crosses behind him and pulls at his coat. Vic lets his arms go limp, lets her pull his coat away. She takes his hat too and hangs both by the door, coming back to pull him free from the bar stool, drawing him towards her couch for more comfort. He lets her lead him around. He can’t seem to stop his feet from following her. He would follow her to the edges of space, hell, and everything in between, but can’t seem to say the words to her. Instead he settles for the silence between them. She sets him on the couch, pulls the blanket from the back of it and tucks it over his shoulders, kisses the top of his hair before making it messy with a ruffle of her fingers.

“I always forget how bright red…” She snickers softly, teasing him for not wearing the mask, for giving himself over to her with no second skin to block the way.

Vic tilts his head up to her own, frowning slightly, “Would you prefer the mask?”

“Don’t be an idiot.” She repeats the words from earlier. Her brows knitting together in concern before she crosses in front of him and takes the place next to him on the couch, gathering up more papers to grade, “Don’t ask that question again.”

“Can I ask another?” He turns his head over, watching her pull her legs up, tucking them under her, pen cap already in her mouth as she begins going down the line of questions, looking for the incorrect answers.

“Mhm,” She hums softly, not glancing up at him. Instead she runs the pen over the top, making a perfect one-hundred in a little loop, following with a little star at the corner of the page. He watches her work with ease, moving onto the next page with her little red pen on the hunt of mistakes.

His mouth forms the words, “Can I stay?”

Her pen scratches an ‘x’ over an answer. He waits for her to put an ‘x’ on him as well, but she does no such thing.  

“I was expecting you to,” she doesn’t look up from the papers still, “I hope you’ll stay for a while.”

Helena shifts now, moving to lay her back against his side, “You hope or want?”

“Does it make a difference to you?”

“Yes.” He answers her matter-of-factly. He wants to hear her say the words. Vic wants her to say she wants him to stay, wants him to be with her even if it’s for such a short time. Christmas is four days away, three nights, he can make the train on the fourth, be back in Hub before she grows too used to his body in her bed.

“Then,” Helena shifts again, this time picking his arm up and sliding under it, she lays now half against him on the couch with her legs stretched to the other end, she smells of floral shampoo and ink, “I want you to stay, but you have to actually stay. You can’t skip breakfast.”

Vic takes a moment as she makes herself comfortable against him before he fully relaxes. He lets his arm slide over her stomach and pulls her into him until there’s no space left, she’s draped comfortably into the curve of him, papers to grade in her hand. His hand twitches for the remote, to turn away from the channel of mind-numbing late-night television, enjoying the warmth of her finally returning to him after months of being away.

“I think I want to stay.”

She marks another one-hundred across the top of the page, adds a little star to the corner before tilting her head back against his chest, the word leaves her with a soft sigh and a curve of her lips, “Stay.”