#you guys really helped spark a multitude of ideas for the AU

[theramblingsofadork]

Tragedy can sometimes ignite a spark of fresh genius. ⚡️

[chierafied]

Hi you take prompts!!! 😍😍😍 I just love christmas Your fics and Jily so here is a Jily christmas prompt: Lily is spending christmas at Petunias and Petunia has inviteted Santa (James) for Dudley. For some reason Vernon is rude to James the hole night but James and Lily gets along very well and at end of the night Santa gets a sweet little kiss under the misteltoe. Or could you write the road service au some proposed two(?) years ago? Hope you are fine! Love, Ellie Sofia

Thank you for sending a prompt in, Ellie Sofia! 😘 Hope you like this! 💕

Kissing Father Christmas

Lily isn't sure why "Father Christmas" is here anyway – Dudley is barely six months old; he has no idea what's happening and will remember none of this.

But Lily has a sneaking suspicion that Petunia needs a picture-perfect Christmas she can share and boast about to all her mum-friends on Facebook.

That would also explain why she's bothered to invite Lily in the first place.

Unless, of course, she simply wants to rub her domestic bliss into Lily's perpetually single face again.

Of course, Petunia’s reasons don’t really matter. The important thing is that Lily actually has a decent and intelligent person to talk to, which is a nice surprise.

After all, it does take a certain kind of person to give up spending the holiday with their own family so they can help make other families’ Christmas special.

He’s not getting paid either; when Lily expressed her surprise at seeing a Father Christmas joining them, Petunia bragged about him agreeing to do it pro bono.

By this point, Lily’s convinced this guy is some sort of a saint.

Because while Vernon’s awfulness shouldn’t surprise her anymore, she’s absolutely horrified by how dismissive he’s being. 

All evening long, he’s been consistently and incredibly rude to this poor bloke.

Lily’s had to bite her tongue so many times, to swallow down a dozen apologies.

It is absolutely infuriating to witness, but her and Petunia’s relationship is frayed already and Lily doesn’t want to ruin her Christmas any further by getting into a huge fight.

So she does what she can, sharing long sympathetic glances with “Father Christmas” and treating him with the respect he deserves. 

She makes sure to engage him in a conversation and to keep the mood light with jokes at the ready.

The incredible part of it all is, that despite Petunia being Petunia, and Vernon behaving like an utter toerag, “Father Christmas” does not seem offended. 

Those hazel eyes keep sparking with good humour, every single time that Lily slants a glance his way.

When Lily stands there, Petunia’s phone in hand, feeling hopelessly awkward as she’s preparing to take a photo of the lovely family moment: a glowering Vernon, stiffly smiling Petunia and crying Dudley dressed in his finest perched on Father Christmas’ knee – “Father Christmas” winks at her.

Lily bites her lip so she doesn't burst into laughter over the absurdity of it all.

Soon after the photos have been taken and Dudley’s first Christmas has been immortalised, Vernon starts dropping not-so-subtle hints about guests overstaying their welcome.

“Father Christmas” gets ready to leave, which gives Lily the perfect opportunity to give her excuses to Petunia. 

She escapes the sitting room only minutes after “Father Christmas”.

He’s still out in the hall.

Neither Petunia nor Vernon seems to be bothering to see either of them out on the door.

Lily clears her throat, catches “Father Christmas’” attention.

“Look, I’m sorry about… all of that,” she says, with a meaningful glance towards the sitting room.

“No need to apologise,” he replies. She hears the smile in his voice. “I managed to have a good time, and it seems to only be getting better.”

“What?” Lily tilts her head, confused.

“Father Christmas’” gaze flicks up to the ceiling and Lily’s eyes reflexively follow his.

“Mistletoe.”

“Oh.” Lily’s lips curve in a smile. “Well then.”  

He steps close, pulls down the white beard.

He’s grinning and looking more handsome than Lily ever imagined.

She rises on tiptoe.

Their lips meet, quick and soft.

But brief though the kiss is, it’s enough to contain multitudes.

They pull back and smile.

And leave together.

[totallyrhettro]

Ravenvale, Chapter 11

Word Count: 2613 Rating: This chapter: PG-13; overall story: explicit Warnings: Depictions of nudity and lewd acts Summary: On their way home from another case, Agent Seaborne and Agent Roach find themselves in the strange, fog-covered town of Ravenvale. Notes: Seaborne and Roach AU where, years after the events seen in the YouTube series, they manage to become FBI agents.

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“You sure you didn’t leave it in the library?” Seaborne was asking as he and Roach walked down the road towards the building in question. It had been a few minutes since they last talked, giving them both some time to cool off. While neither was angry any longer, they both could feel a thick tension between them, both unbreaking and fragile. Had this been any other day Roach would have argued, would have insisted that he hadn’t misplaced the gun, but today he was in no mood for their usual witty banter.

“Yes,” he stated, looking up from his feet. “I remember putting in my nightstand last night before-” His eyes looked up and away, trying to look anywhere but at Seaborne just then. “Before I went to sleep,” he managed to finish. “Can we talk about something else?” Seaborne nodded, welcoming a change in subject.

“Miss Marble’s office,” he started, thinking back to a complication-free moment. “Any theories on why it was empty?” Good, normal, part of the mystery that is Ravenvale. Finally something Roach could handle.

“It seems a lot of work to hide her papers from us,” he surmised. “But that is a possibility. Otherwise we have to assume that her office is normally bare.”

“She could have been preparing to clear out her office so she can have it repainted,” Seaborne suggested. Heaven knows it was certainly due for a fresh coat of paint along with the rest of the building.

“Perhaps when she found out that you and I were from the FBI, she knew that she had to get rid of any evidence before we could find it,” Roach guessed. The idea of a conspiracy theory coming together was rather comforting, even if it meant someone was making it more difficult for him to solve this case.

“Evidence?” Seaborne repeated, confused. “What do you think she was hiding evidence of?”

“I don’t know,” Roach admitted, putting on his ‘detective face’. “And now we may never know. She’s a quick one, that Miss Marble.” Seaborne hid a smile. “After we check on the library, we should go back and question her.”

“She’s clearly the ring leader,” Seaborne joked. At least, he was pretty sure that he was joking. At this point, it wasn’t the most ridiculous theory spinning around their heads.

After only a few minutes of walking and continuing their conversation, things seemed to be getting back to normal. Whatever awkwardness that had been left behind from last night seemed to wash away in relaxing banter that was so routine, even in this strange town. Roach rambled about aliens and conspiracies while Seaborne countered with more realistic theories. It was familiar, it was comfortable. More than that, it was what they both had dearly hoped for: it was as if the night before had never happened. Forgiven, forgotten, and pushed aside for later mulling over, the multitude of thoughts that had been distracting them both were pushed to the wayside for now.

Discussions of fairies and aliens fell silent as the massive shape of the library loomed into view. Nothing seemed amiss, at first, the mist continuing to make seeing anything from a distance quite difficult. It wasn’t until they got much closer that they noticed a rather huge detail that had changed since the last time they had stopped by. The massive doors that led to the main lobby of the building were nailed shut with no less than five wooden planks. As they got even closer they saw similar boards on all of the tall windows that lined the front. If there was ever a sign that a building was closed, that was it.

“They boarded it up!” Roach exclaimed furiously, dashing to get a closer look. Seaborne was close behind, more confused than angry. “We must have been close to something.”

“To what, though?” Seaborne wondered, trying to look between the boards on one of the windows. “And who could have done this over night?” His partner shook his head, stepping back and sizing up the situation.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, rolling up his sleeves. “But I’m getting in there. No boards are gonna stop me.” With that he grabbed onto the nearest boards covering the doorway and began to pull. Unsure as to what his partner was going to accomplish in the end, Seaborne stood back for a few seconds just watching the man struggle. Then, realizing that Roach wasn’t going to leave this place empty handed, he stepped up to help.

“You gotta grab it at the ends,” he explained, taking hold of one nailed end. Roach shifted to hold the board right next to Seaborne’s hands and, with a bit of effort, they were able to pull the plank clean off. In just a few minutes they’d removed enough to open the front doors and Roach eagerly led the way. Uncertain about this whole endeavor and perhaps a little over cautious, Seaborne drew his gun, just in case.

The lights were all out inside and the boarded up windows provided little in the way of illumination. The meager light that did make it inside showed a down-trodden lobby that hadn’t been cleaned in decades. Layers of dirt and grime covered everything from the floor littered with old books and broken furniture to the long curtains that were once elegant but now tattered and torn. If Roach didn’t know any better, he would have sworn that this place had been abandoned ages ago.

“It’s too dark,” Seaborne commented, once again lamenting his apparently busted phone. Without a word Roach paused, reaching into a pocket in his jacket and pulling out a small, metal lighter. After a few flicks it sparked to life providing dim but efficient source of light. “Why do you have that?” Seaborne asked as they continued forward. “You don’t smoke.”

“Always good to be prepared,” was all Roach offered in response. Seaborne shrugged; he couldn’t complain about his partner’s preparedness and he was grateful for some kind of light in this spooky place.

The large center room was in much the same state as the lobby, with all the bookshelves scattered over the floor as if tossed by some massive wind. Large cobwebs permeated the nooks and crannies and dominated the corners well out of reach. The windows were bigger here but that didn’t seem to help much; it wasn’t just the boards blocking out the sunlight but the ever-present fog as well. Roach’s lighter couldn’t reach the distant walls but it brought some comfort as they pressed forward, Seaborne closer behind his colleague than usual. He scanned the room, looking for any sign that they weren’t alone, his gun at the ready.

“Maybe they got to him,” Roach was mumbling, mostly to himself. “He knew too much as they got rid of him.”

“Who?” Seaborne wondered, still keeping an eye out.

“Deneir,” his partner explained. “The librarian. He must have told me too much.” Seaborne opened his mouth to argue, to tell his friend that this Deneir guy had told him very little and most of it utter nonsense, but as he shifted to go around a rather large, fallen chandelier, his foot hit the wooden floor and kept going. With a sickening crack he felt the ground fall away beneath him, the light fixture just barely missing him as it disappeared into the darkness below. His arms flailed wildly, the gun in his hand thrown a few feet away, as he instinctively reached out for something to halt his fall. His hands found no purchase but Roach found him, grabbing hold of Seaborne’s arm and holding on tight.

“Hold on,” Roach commanded from his new position on the floor. He had slid onto his butt to catch his partner, dropping the lighter in the process. The shadows seemed to creep in without the fire to keep them at bay. Seaborne held on for dear life as his friend dragged him onto more stable floor. The two of them lay there, panting for a few seconds, before Roach began feeling around for the lighter. It was slow going; he really didn’t want to fall through the floor himself. Eventually he managed to find it and flicked it on immediately. Still being as careful as possible, he leaned over the hole that Seaborne had created. He hadn’t heard a crash.

“What is it?” Seaborne asked, seeing the confused look on his partner’s face illuminated by the small flame.

“I didn’t hear the chandelier land.” Both of them were quiet a moment, listening as if they expected to hear the sound of the chandelier hitting something far below. There was only silence. Seaborne peeked over the side and together they peered downwards, but there was only utter darkness through the hole, like a void into nothing. Absolute nothing. Just looking at it gave both men a strange sense of dread.

“Must have missed it,” Seaborne presumed, dismissing the vast nothing below as the lighter’s inability to reach very far. “Come on, help me find my gun.” With the lighter in hand it didn’t take long for them to find the glock sitting just a few feet from the hole. Seaborne examined it to make sure it was still working and it didn’t appear to be damaged.

“You ready to continue?” The question caught Seaborne a little off guard. Continue? Was Roach crazy? The building was obvious falling apart, or possibly booby-trapped.

“It’s too dangerous,” he pleaded, motioning towards the hole that could have easily meant his death. “We should get outta here.” Roach shook his head.

“Not yet,” he suggested, as if this was just a normal walk through a shambled building. “There’s something here, I just know it.”

“Something?”

“Something they don’t want us to find.” Taking the lead once more, Roach headed off towards the back of the room and Seaborne had little choice but to follow, his friend having the only light source. He wasn’t sure what Roach meant by ‘they’ or ‘something’ but he had to admit that someone (or possibly something) had turned this library into an abandoned building in just one night and he wanted to know why. It seemed a lot of effort to go to just for a prank. Neither of them wanted to turn back now, or worse: get separated.

When, at last, they reached the back of the hall without another accident, they found a closed door with a sign marked above it: 'Records'. It seemed solid enough, though it had seen better days. Silently signaling to Roach his intentions with military hand signals, Seaborne opened the door slowly. It was darker inside than the rest of the building had been, but the coast seemed clear. He made sure to scan the entire room for anyone that might be hiding before waving his friend inside. The glow from Roach’s lighter did little to light up the small room, but it was better than nothing. Like the rest of the library, the room was filled with busted furniture and covered in dust. A desk along the far wall seemed fairly intact so that was what they investigated first.

“Oh thank god,” Seaborne rejoiced with a happy sigh. In one of the top drawers of the desk was a small collection of long candles and an assortment of holders. Just what he needed. With help from Roach’s lighter, one of the bigger candles was quickly lit and their search could continue with more ease. Roach resumed search of the desk while Seaborne, after holstering his weapon, found an interesting pile of papers on the floor to rummage through.

“There must be something in here that hasn’t been trashed,” Roach commented, ruffling through the drawers. “Something we can use.” He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, exactly, he just figured he’d know it when he saw it. Meanwhile Seaborne found very little, and nothing that he saw as helpful. The papers were mainly blank, though there were a few that contained long lists of book numbers.

“There’s nothing here,” he bemoaned, not looking up.

“Keep looking,” Roach insisted, determined that this whole venture not be for nothing. “These people went to a great deal of trouble to hide whatever is here.” Seaborne wasn’t so sure, but he wasn’t about to give up either. Pushing aside the blank papers and pages lined with the dewey decimal system, he found some manila folders that had faded long ago. Many of them were empty, but one held something more.

A photograph, impossibly glossy and pristine. It was about half the size of the ten-inch envelope, unmarked by even a single fingerprint as Seaborne remove it from its container. It took a few seconds for Seaborne’s eyes to register what they were seeing. At first he thought it was just a trick of the light, but the more he stared the more he knew that his eyes weren’t lying. He just couldn’t believe what they were telling him. It was a photo of him and Roach, sitting in his car together, somewhere he didn’t recognize. Aside from him, Roach, and the car, there was only darkness in the photo, but that wasn’t even close to the strangest thing to note.

The photographer had apparently been sitting in the passenger's side of the car during this supposed incident. Roach was in the driver’s seat, with Seaborne in his lap. Seaborne didn’t remember this ever happening, though he had fantasized about it many times. Roach would have never gone along with this, whatever 'this' was. He would never let Seaborne sit on his lap, under any circumstances. Certainly not with them both naked. Seaborne squinted as he looked closer at the photograph. It had to be fake, photo-shopped or something, maybe someone put his and Roach’s head on someone else’s bodies, but that didn’t make sense either. That was his body, his naked chest and legs, his carefully toned butt which he spent hours weekly working on.

‘Not bad,’ he thought to himself, half talking about the results of his exercise and half about the quality of the forgery. Because it had to be fake; this had never happened. Still, he had to wonder who would have gone through all the work to make this? And how could it have been made with such accuracy? At least he assumed it was accurate. His body looked accurate. He hadn’t spent enough time looking at Roach’s naked body to know if his part in this photo was correct. He tilted his head, wondering…. Then he back to the present. If the situation were different, he might keep this photo to look at when he was alone, but things were not so simple.

Starting to turn, to show Roach what he had found, his eyes caught something else in the photo. It was small, barely there, but like the rest of the photo it was clear and crisp. Looking in through the windshield, just peeking over the dash, was a tiny face. Above that face, watching the scene before it with great interest, was a pair of tiny, gossamer wings.

“Hey Roach,” Seaborne began, his eyes glued to the photo as he turned to face his friend. “Hey, come look at this.” Roach didn’t answer. “Hey!” Seaborne repeated, louder. “Roach, look-” Finally looking up, his half-smile fell from his lips and his entire face turned white. Now he understood why Roach didn’t answer. Swinging around he raised his candle high, trying to push away the shadows, but it was no use. Roach wasn’t there. “Roach?” he called out, nervous, but there was no response. “Roach!” Nothing. Seaborne was alone.

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