#this sleepy snowy saturday

[daincrediblegg]

Born to do productive things forced to sit in my little chair being cozy and sleepy and wanting to ride on old irish seaman dick

[libraryofloveletters]

I Spy With My Little Eye

Dominik Szoboszlai x Fem!Reader

Warnings: dom is so cheesy but he also disappeared and you're like ??, a bit plot heavy, so many random tasks, reader thinks dom has lost his mind, major sweetness at the end.

Word Count: 970

Author's Note: dedicated to my fellow dom enthusiast @curiousthyme <3

--

This Christmas was different. Dom made you work for your gift rather than giving it to you; following the clues through the neighbourhood to your final gift.

There was some time before Christmas and Dominik suggested a trip to Germany, the place you two called home for quite a bit of time while he played with Leipzig. You still had your place there as you bounced back and forth between there and Liverpool for work so you two were staying there for a few days.

You felt the mattress dip, your boyfriend's warm hand on your forehead. His lips by your ear, "I've got some errands to run, sweetheart. I'll be back later." he whispers, kissing your head.

A mumble and you feel around, patting his cheek before rolling over and going back to sleep.

It wasn't until an hour later than you got up, finding Dom's side of the bed still empty. There was a note on the pillow, you assumed it was just him reiterating what he had told you before he left, knowing you'd be too sleepy to really listen to him.

You unfolded the page, reading the words he had scribbled down.

check your favourite hiding spot for a gift - xoxo D.

The sun peeked through the curtains, you forced yourself out of bed to go into the living room. The ottoman sat on the rug, you smiled to yourself. Dom never used the ottoman, in fact he hated the thing; it was ugly and clunky but you liked it for some reason so he left it. Plus he knew you used it as a hiding spot because he often forgot it was there.

Pushing the top open, there's a box wrapped up with ribbon and a note tucked under it. The note was opened first.

get ready and head to Julie's for the next note - xoxo D.

You had no idea what he was up to but you folded the page again, taking the lid off of the box to find a dress you had been telling him about for weeks. You haven't been able to find it in stores or online. You're not sure how he did it but you're sure he used his 'connections' as he called it to find it for you.

As the note said, you went through your morning routine and got ready, your coat wrapped around you and boots on as you headed out and into the snow.

The bell rings on the cafe door, the smell of baked goods welcomes you back home. "Y/n!" Julie beamed, you weren't expecting to see her in, especially not on a Saturday morning.

"Hey!" You smiled.

"Here you go," she passed you your usual coffee order and an envelope. You reach for your purse to pay her but she shakes her head, "Dom paid."

You smile, opening the envelope and reading the note.

meet me where we had our first kiss - xoxo D.

It takes you a moment to think back, it feels like a million years ago but then it hits you, the park.

You thank Julie for the coffee and you're off again, making your way through the snow, cursing Dom in your head for choosing a snowy day to do whatever it was that this was. It's a short walk to the park, specifically to the park rangers' office; yes you had your first kiss outside of their office. You were on a walk and it started pouring rain, Dom pulled you there to keep you out of the rain and kissed you for the first time there.

It was more romantic in the morning, but thinking about it now made you giggle.

You looked around for your boyfriend, hoping this would be the last of the walking as your legs were killing you.

Someone pats your shoulder, a park ranger. "Are you y/n?"

"Yeah," you nod, the man hands you yet another envelope. You're a bit annoyed, knowing you'd probably have to walk some more but you open it.

follow the ranger. no more walking, I promise - xo D.

It's as if he read your mind. "Lead the way," you tell the man, he nods and leads you over to one of their little cars.

You knew this path, it led to the gazebo at the edge of the park that overlooked the water. You get out of the car, thanking the man as you walk over to the gazebo. There are candles and flowers everywhere. As you make your way closer, you're expecting to see Dom but you don't.

A bit confused, you look around but then feel someone tap your shoulder; Dominik is on one knee behind you when you turn around.

"Dom.." You look at the man, your jaw hangs open slightly.

"Y/n," he smiles, "the last 5 years have been the best of my life, as cheesy as it sounds. You've been through the good and the bad, stuck to my side no matter what and I can't thank you enough for that. I hope you know how much you mean to me and will always mean to me so," he smiled at you again, opening the small box in his hand.

"Will you do me the honour and marry me?"

You're in shock, nodding but then you remember you actually have to answer him. "Yes!" You lean down, hands on his face as you kiss him. Dom stands, still kissing you for a moment before he pulls away, slipping the ring onto your finger.

Your boyfriend- fiancé, pulls you back into a hug, kissing you as he picks you up, giving you a good squeeze.

"I know you've always wanted a Christmas proposal but not on Christmas." He laughs, forehead pressed to yours.

You smile, tears in your eyes as your hand presses to his face. "It was perfect, perhaps less walking would have been better but still," you giggled, Dom kissed you once more, hugging you.

[fascinationex]

I did a short vampire og fic for ficlet flash exchange recently but, of course, I had to chop it down to ficlet length. This is the longer version.

----

The One With The Vampire Group Chat (Extended Version) (no animals were harmed in the writing of this fic)

Sedgeford was a small, sleepy riverside town. The weather was cold and the humidity was high, and each morning the mist was grey and cool and damp clung to every blade of grass and paving stone. This was the kind of town with a defunct copper mine in the hills, and deep-worn towpaths where horses had once drawn cargo down the ancient canals. There had been a working blacksmith there right up until the 1970s. Now, though, the mines were abandoned and strictly forbidden to wandering children, the towpaths were overgrown with greenery and grasses, and old Mr Smith's son had packed himself off to study agriculture at the university.

The old house had stood in Sedgeford for centuries. It was built into the side of the hill near what had once been the old town centre, but the town centre had shifted a bit, after a terrible fire in the 1890s, and then even further after the closure of the mines. Now, the old house was a lonely pointed silhouette against the sky, soaring above its sagging, long-abandoned brethren.

This old house was occupied.

Meredith liked dark lipstick and geometric jewellery, and she wore her snowy hair short and curled, as had been the style a century ago. She smoked cigarettes from a long, old-fashioned holder, so that a haze of blue-grey smoke followed her around and settled on the sleek fur of her glamourous coats.

More than one child had asked their parents if she was a fairy. "No," they said, "just a very strange old woman."

Meredith, of course, had been an old woman when the oldest grandfather of the town had been a boy. But Sedgeford wasn't the sort of town where you said anything about that. Sedgeford was a misty, quiet place, mostly forgotten by anyone of consequence.

They hadn't really embraced high speed internet, in Sedgeford, but they did well enough to support Meredith's weekly group chat of creatures of the night.

"No! Cassandra is visiting me this weekend. At my age," Meredith was now saying, on her Saturday evening video chat, "one gets so tired of moving all the time. I haven't left Sedgeford in two hundred years, and I'm not about to start."

The two other creatures of the night rolled their eyes right to their cameras.

"Oh yes, at your advanced years," scoffed Etheldred, a short, tawny-haired woman who was herself so old that technically her name was better rendered Æþelðryþe. "You're all of three hundred. Don't blame your laziness on age. I moved last year."

Meredith was nearly four hundred, but saying so would make her seem young indeed. She exhaled a plume of smoke to hang hazy in the air. "And are you still unpacking?"

"Eugh," said Ethel, by which Meredith figured she meant 'yes'.

"Perhaps eventually I'll have to pass away and leave everything I own to my much younger granddaughter who bears a suspicious resemblance to me," sighed Meredith, "but it's all very inconvenient."

"It always is," Nikomachē sympathised. She was combing out her thick dark hair, voice muffled slightly as she turned her head from her microphone. "But better than answering awkward questions about undying women who can't face the sun."

THUMP went the sound of a tiny body colliding with the heavily tinted glass beside Meredith's front door. She looked up from her computer screen and leaned forward so she could just see the door in the welcoming darkness of the house.

Then she clicked her tongue. "Excuse me. She's here, I think."

Meredith got up to wrench open the front door.

Cassandra was there, hunched, wings furled tightly, looking dazed upon the front step. But when the door swung open, she raised her fuzzy little head and used her tiny arms like hiking poles to scuttle right inside.

"You're early," Meredith hissed down, shutting the door with extreme prejudice. "It's a wonder you even got this far without burning to a crisp — it's barely dusk!"

Cassandra didn't turn back into her vampire shape.

She huddled on the carpet instead, shivering sadly in her soft dark fur.

"Huh," said Meredith, smoke leaking from the corner of her lips.

This happened sometimes. Usually only with truly new vampires — ones who were ten, twelve years, or less. Meredith teased Casandra about being basically a foetus sometimes, but the woman was not even a century old.

She poked her with the toe of her shoe.

Cassandra chirped. Maybe the sun had panicked her and she'd lost the knack of transformation?

Meredith scooped her up one-handed, despite her protesting shrieks, and bore her back to the computer, trailing smoke and a swish of furs in her wake. The screen had turned dark. She smacked the space bar three times to wake it up.

"Ladies!" she exclaimed into the stream chat, interrupting their chatter. It didn't include her and therefore it was probably not very important, anyway. "Cass has a problem."

She hoisted the squeaking little bat up in front of the camera. It continued to squeak. It actually tried quite hard to bite her, which Meredith supposed was just the vampire's instinct. They all turned into biters when they panicked, didn't they?

"Oh," said Nikomachē. She put her brush down and peered closer to her own screen. "Well. That," she cleared her throat, clearly trying hard not to laugh, "er, that happens to the best of us."

"It does not," said Meredith. "But it's certainly happening to Cassandra. Do either of you know how to turn her back?"

"Ha," said Ethel. "Yes. I've sired three now. You learn."

"Stop dangling the poor thing," Nikomachē advised. "She must be so embarrassed."

Meredith dropped her to the desk. She smacked into it with a thump and laid there in a daze.

The ritual wasn't that involved — but it was definitely a ritual, and not just a regular little cantrip like they used day to day. The circle had to be drawn in human blood, which was in plentiful supply, so Meredith sacrificed a rug to its necessity. There had to be rosemary to burn, so Meredith had to fetch a parasol and tiptoe outside to cut some. It needed salt and silver and hawthorn berries ("She's bloody lucky it's nearly autumn!") and, most importantly, a vampire to conduct it and show her what shape she should be.

She complained bitterly at every step.

It felt powerful enough: when Meredith did it, she felt that curious sixth sense that had only come upon her after death engage. The air was heavy and damp, and her teeth ached in her skull, singing their siren song to bite, bite, bite.

The bat squeaked at the top of its tiny lungs and flapped its wings wildly, but it did not actually change back into Cassandra.

Meredith turned back to Ethel. "Are you quite certain this was the right ritual?"

Ethel's mouth was slack, her brows knitted together. "Yes...? It's worked the four times I've done it."

"Well, I didn't do it wrong," snapped Meredith.

"Nobody said you did, dear," said Ethel placidly.

Cassandra must have been well and truly stuck, because it wasn't just the first ritual that failed them. The second one, a more elaborate version with six white candles, a bottle of wine and a tiny trickle of sunlight received only a surprised hiss and a squeaky shriek of alarm from their subject.

"Here," said Nikomachē, at last returning to her seat with a large, old book. She took several photos on her phone and sent them to the chat.

Meredith scowled at the ritual. "You want me to use my hair?"

Nikomachē was quiet, fingering her own dark locks and eyeing Cassandra's huddled form like she, too, wasn't sure it was worth it. Then she said: "I don't want you to."

"Nike! Come on, Meredith, it's for a good cause?" Ethel coaxed.

And so it was. Meredith puffed angrily on her cigarette as she took a kitchen knife to her own hair, growling through her pointed teeth.

The hair had to be set alight in the bowl, too, and that stank.

The doorbell rang.

Meredith looked at the ritual circle, where a lock of her own pale hair was still smouldering. The bat shivered in place in its cardboard box.

"Oh, Meredith, that'll be the young reverend doing one of his 'welfare checks' again," crowed Ethel, giggling.

Meredith pulled a face. It very well might be. He was new in town, and persistent about offering his company to the elderly on his hours off. A real old-school man of god, that fellow. He was also her only visitor from the town, most of the time. Meredith had half a mind to just eat him.

"I don't know how you have the patience." Nikomachē's voice was distant because she'd graduated from judgemental stares into the camera to peering into her mirror, tracing the plush shape of her own bow lips.

"Darling, I don't have the patience," sighed Meredith, "I just can't afford to invite a police investigation if I want to avoid moving."

She got up from her crouch on the floor and left Cassandra cowering in her box. Her illusory cantrip fell over her as she came to the door: a frail old woman, wrapped in the glamours of yesteryear to stave off the coming twilight.

She opened the door.

Her cigarette dipped alarmingly when her jaw dropped.

"Cass—Cassandra?" said Meredith. Cassandra was a pretty thing. She was tall like a man, because the women all were these days, and dark eyed with careless hair and make up that gave her wan olive skin the illusion of colour.

She still dressed like Morticia Addams, like someone had given her a floor length wardrobe all in black with her Vampire 101 Starter Pack. But maybe she'd grow out of that.

"You sound surprised to see me," Cassandra noted, leaning in to bump her marble smooth skin against Meredith's jaw. While she was there, she touched a lock of Meredith's brutalized coiffure. "What on earth happened to your hair?"

"... A bad cut. New hairdresser. It'll grow out."

Meredith thought, inevitably, about the bat in its box, in its ritual circle, in her living room, kept under the watchful eyes of her streaming buddies. She met Cassandra's dark eyes.

A wave of mortification washed over Meredith. Her heart gave a single, slightly painful thump, startled to sudden life by pure embarassment.

"Could you give us a moment, darling?" she said in a tone that did not offer an alternative, and then she shut the door right in Cassandra's face.

"Meredith?" Cassandra's muffled voice followed her.

Meredith dashed back to her living room and her computer.

"Cassandra is at my door!" she snarled, dumping the bat out of its box and getting the whole ritual apparatus away by dent of simply rolling the rug into a cylinder and shoving it beneath the couch.

Nikomachē and Ethel went silent.

"Cassandra is... at your door?" Ethel's mouth tugged down in a confused frown. "But darling, who was the bat?"

There was a pause.

Nikomachē coughed. Then she snorted. Then hilarity overcame her and she began to giggle.

Ethel's expression cleared. "Oh, my dear," she said, and joined Nikomachē in her laughter.

"You're useless," Meredith declared. "You're both bloody useless!" and she stabbed her pointer at the red button to end the stream.

She turned on her heel and went back to the door to greet Cassandra properly.

Huddling in its high corner, unobserved and presumably scared out of its tiny mind, the bat gave a feeble squeak.

[becoming-not-became]

COMorning

A snowy Saturday morning greets me with white chillas I slipslowly out awaymaking my way to the fireplace on it goes just as Iand then you are standing there still sleepy yetorange deep redand slow yellow colors all dancing as you kneel down folding into my arms awell read book whispering to me coffee can wait this moment ofthis snowy Colorado morning simply can’t

[keefwho]

November 25 - 2023 Saturday

11:33pm

This morning I watching a Vanoss Lethal Company video while showering. I was torn with what to make for breakfast but I settled on attempting a sausage and pepperjack cheese sandwich with broccoli. It wasn't a very good combination but at least I ate my vegetables. The first thing I decided to work on today was my friendiversary gift. I worked on it while talking with a couple of David's friends in his server. Then Serenitea asked if I wanted to chill in VC so I went there while I finished up. She was up all night apparently. We didn't talk long because she had to go help her grandma make birthday breakfast for her little brother. After working on the gift I started a VR chat liminal world I had planned to get done entirely today. I worked on it on and off because I lost my flow. I ate lunch in the middle of it which was fish sticks, mac n cheese, and a pear cup. I buckled down on it after eating in David's server for a little bit before going solo. I ran into a LOT of problems that probably wasted around an hour of my time. REALLY stupid issues that I still don't know what caused them. Eventually the world was done and I got in VR to hang out with Daisy. I found out that the video player in my world was broken despite it working before so I had to fix it and it took a lot longer than I thought. Some 13 year olds were calling us furries and telling us to kill ourselves so that was classic. For awhile we hung out in my new world after I fixed it and talked about Zelda. Then we hung out in my snowy cabin world waiting to get a world link from Ena which we never got but we found it on our own. We watched an artistic EPCOT documentary which deeply inspired me in a lot of ways. It was just made very beautifully and had me thinking about a lot of things. We got off afterwards and I played Neopets during sleepy time.

Before VR I had taken a small hit which had me mildly panicking while trying to fix my world and dealing with those kids. I shouldn't have taken a hit without being certain of my mood. I was sort of banking on it enhancing my night for me rather than complimenting it.

[bisexualvampires]

i just think that if dean got up one morning sleepy and out of it and cas wordlessly handed him a cup of coffee, dean would kiss him without thinking about it. it’s not until he’s halfway finished drinking that his spidey senses kick in and he realises wtf he just did. cas however has already flown off to tell his gentle friends, the bees, all about it

[thatslikely]

Stowaways - G.W.

Stowaways- George Weasley x Fem!Reader (former Gryffindor)

Warnings: none! just tooth-rotting George fluff :)

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: Sorry this took so long! This is my longest fic to date, and I’m so proud of it. I love Georgie so I’m glad to finally write for him. Hope you guys enjoy this one <3

Just a reminder: Y/N is Your Name and flashbacks/thoughts are in italics.

93 Diagon Alley is a place of wonder, mystique, and above all else, joy. A place where all your best memories are enshrined, a place where you can be your best self, alongside your doting fiery-haired boyfriend, who wears his ginger mop of hair like a halo. Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes occupies most of the address, its orange and purple exterior lightening up Diagon Alley effortlessly.  

Its interior is just as magical, the multiple levels of the shop are engulfed with shelves stocked full of Fred and George’s mischievously ingenious products. Some threatened to transfigure you into an eye-popping xanthic canary, while others could spontaneously spawn a whole swamp in the blink of an eye.

Everything within its walls brings smiles to children of all ages, and it could be argued that George is still one of those kids too.

The store seems to make George truly come alive, even more than he was at Hogwarts just a year prior. The look in his eyes as he skillfully operates the store with Fred reminds you of the glow that your face used to hold as a child as you looked longingly through countless toy-store windows around December.

While the shop is the main source of his pride and joy, even its power couldn’t halt the toll of a busy workweek. Every day, new shipments had been zooming in and out of the store, sales at an all-time high. The new lot of Hogwarts students must have a mischievous streak, for student-sent owl orders in preparation for the school year were arriving daily by the barrel-load.

It was finally Friday evening, and George trudged up the back stairs to the flat, his eyelids droopy and back hunched. His lack of energy, however, couldn’t take away from the playfully handsome purple and brown ensemble he wore. He pitifully fiddled with the keys before finally turning the lock, entering the flat promptly, taking in the familiar home-y aroma.  

He promptly plopped down at the small breakfast table near the kitchen, a tired sigh escaping his lips. He pressed his elbow onto the surface of the table, his arm supporting the weight of his head that his neck couldn’t bear any longer.  

“How was your day?  You look absolutely exhausted,” you asked with concern. You already knew you would have to plan something to cheer poor George up.

“I am simply dying, Y/N,” he said, while pretending to go limp like a corpse, “there’s no hope for me. Tell Mum and Ginny I love ‘em.”

“Not even your own twin brother, huh?” you asked sarcastically. He could only respond with a zombie-esque groan.  

You sarcastically rolled your eyes at his dramatic display, glad to see his lack of energy didn’t affect his sense of humor. You walked over to your tired George, who had his head now resting on the back of his chair, eyes spaced out at the ceiling.

You calmly sat down next to the Titian-haired love of your life and laid your head on his strong shoulder, your arm slowly snaking up his back. The motion of your hand alternated between tracing soothing circles lightly on his strained back muscles and massaging his tense shoulder.

He turned his face to you, painted with a soft and grateful grin, glad to finally be home, especially with you. For a few serene minutes, comfortable silence filled the air.  

George had nearly drifted off before the both of you were disrupted by his stomach emitting a loud growl. “I take it you’re hungry, Georgie?”

“Apparently so,” your boyfriend responded, patting his stomach.  

He languidly started undoing his bright amaranthine purple tie when you asked, “Do you want icky leftovers or yummy takeout? I know what I’m voting for.”

“Such a tough decision…” George responded with a wink.

----

By the time dinner was over, the tired look in George’s eyes remained, but the delicious takeout helped remedy his splitting headache.  

The two of you quickly settled on the comfortable marmalade-hued couch to watch one of your favorite muggle movies (it was a comedy of course). George’s laugh never ceased to make your heart flutter, even after all these years. The way it used to echo so freely through the crimson Gryffindor common room, and now through you two’s cozy flat, couldn’t help but make you fall even more madly in love with him. 

George somehow brought out the kid in you that laid dormant for so many years. With him, the world seemed so vibrant; there was always a little adventure waiting for you both, even in mundane activities like laundry. He would bunch up the freshly-washed paisley and tessellated dress shirts that he wore down to the shop daily, pelting them at you like the snowballs that he enchanted to hit Quirrell all the way back in third year.  

You loved George with all your heart, as did he.

After a while of movie-watching, George drifted off into a light sleep. His hazy dream was filled with thoughts of the school he called home for so long. The smell of the burning logs and pumpkin that would drift through his nostrils every morning as he walked down the steps from his dorm; the sound of first years’ giggles as they messed with one of his pranks.

His brain then swam through the blurry memories to the first time he met you, the real you, drinking Firewhiskey and playing truth or dare in the back of the common room with the Golden Trio and crew after a victorious Quidditch game.  

He thought of your first date, your face scrunched with belly-aching laughter as you tried stuffing in as many sweets as you could on a snowy Saturday at Honeydukes. The way the twisted rainbow lollipops and chocolate frogs made your face uncontrollably grin cemented what he swore the moment he first saw you: he vowed to never stop making you smile.   

He couldn’t live a day without your joy-filled face; it enchanted him like the beautiful glow of fireworks against a smokey black sky, like the addicting feeling of adrenaline from breaking the rules.

----

“Georgie,” you whispered, “Georgie!”  

Your drowsy boyfriend slowly drifted back to reality after hearing your soft whisper, your hands lightly tapping his chest to an invisible rhythm.  

He released a yawn before asking, “What is it, angel?”  His eyes fluttered lazily, and his lips were quirked to the smallest of smiles.

“I just wanted to make sure you didn’t fall asleep on the couch for the night,” you said caringly, “I knew you’d be even sorer in the morning if you did.”

George’s heart warmed at your thoughtfulness. He quickly took in his surroundings, which starkly contrasted his dreamscape. The television softly droning cheap infomercials instead of the muggle movie he fell asleep to, the blinds closed to hide the velvety black sky, and bits of buttery popcorn strewn across his chest and lap.  

He sat up tiredly, swiping his hand carelessly through his vermillion-pigmented locks. He rubbed his umber eyes as you brushed loose kernels from his clothes to the carpet.  

George muttered, “I love you, Y/N,” quietly, thinking you wouldn’t be able to hear it.  

You did, however, and you reciprocated an “I love you, too” sweetly. You stood up from the couch, extending your hand to help droopy-eyed George up. He took your hand and he rose before walking towards the kitchen, drawn to the stark blue light of the refrigerator.  

The fridge doors popped open, revealing tupperware full of picked-at leftovers, a few odds and ends, and a half-drank bottle of Dragon Barrel Brandy. He groaned at the meager scraps of food occupying the fridge, shutting the door disappointedly. The crisp air that surrounded him with a chill dissipated within an instant.  

“Georgie, I think we should go off to bed. Tomorrow's Saturday, and I have a big surprise for you planned,” you said excitedly, coming up behind the man of your dreams, resting your hand steadily on his shoulder. He leaned into your touch as you guided the sleepy boy to the bedroom.

As the two of you laid down to go to sleep, facing one another, George asked in a tired, raspy voice, “What’s the surprise, darling? Or will I have to find out tomorrow?”

“You know I would never spoil a surprise. Don’t worry, you’ll love it.”

----

George awoke to the delectable scent of freshly-fried bacon and eggs wafting from the humble kitchen. The other half of the bed, he noticed, lay empty, the cozy handmade quilt blanket you usually dozed under laying askew. Sunlight poured through the windows, letting his linen covered body bask in golden morning rays.  

After minutes of continuing to peacefully lay under the covers, absorbing the pure morning ambiance, George finally decided to get up and follow the delicious aromas emitting from the kitchen like a bloodhound.  

As he entered, you were bent over the stove, guiding a spatula around in a lightly tarnished pan, appetizing pancakes browning within. You were still in your sleepwear, wearing oversized plaid pants that dragged across the tile and one of George’s shirts, which was huge on you and smelled strongly of his cologne.

He snuck up behind you quietly as a mouse, before unexpectedly poking the sides of your stomach. You let out a shocked, “George!” before bursting into laughter. Your chuckles blended with his effortlessly, creating a beautiful symphony.  

“Morning, darling. I see you’re making breakfast,” George said with a smirk as he surveyed the surrounding food-covered counters. He seemed in a much better state than he was yesterday, his tired eyes replaced with resplendent brown and gold-speckled ones, which were flooded full of energy reminiscent of his adolescence.  

“I am! And I made all your favorites, so get excited! The day’s only getting started.” You sent him a knowing wink, and he responded with a child-like grin. George giddily opened a cupboard, grabbing two shiny ceramic plates. He forked some already-cooked bacon and eggs onto each plate, shaping the food into two adorable smiley faces.  

“What did I ever do to deserve such an amazing girlfriend like you?” George asked after giving your cheek an affectionate peck.  

“The real question is, what didn’t you do? You’re perfect in my eyes, Georgie,” you heartfeltly admitted as you carried a small plate stacked with butter and syrup-coated warm pancakes coated to the table.  

George had beaten you to the breakfast table, waiting patiently until you finally sat down in the chair to his side. He eagerly stabbed a forkful of egg, stuffing it into his mouth. While Ron was usually credited as the biggest food-lover of the Weasleys, there was no way you could deny that George was runner up.  

He gulped down the rest of the meal quickly, sending breakfast-filled smiles in your direction after every bite. After both of your plates were squeaky-clean, you ventured to the bedroom to get ready for the busy day ahead of you. 

You instructed George to wear “something comfortable,” and he happily complied, throwing on a cream-colored, pin-striped short-sleeve oxford with a pair of worn jeans. You selected something equally as comfortable, and adorable.  

You were in the middle of packing a backpack full of snacks and water when George finally asked, “So… when do I get to know where we’re going?”

“We’re going to Hogwarts,” you said promptly with a knowing smile, greatly contrasting George’s look of perplexion.

“And how exactly are we going to manage that, love? Surely they wouldn’t allow an impromptu visit like this, even good ol’ McGonagall?”  

“Well, let’s just say Hogwarts doesn’t actually know we’ll be there.” 

----

Platform 9 ¾ could be seen bustling with life, the delicious taste of magic floating through the air. It sent you back to all of those years you spent before term, pushing a luggage-stacked trolley across the station.

The scarlet express heaved tufts of smoke from its chimney, a piercing shriek occasionally echoing from its whistle. The magical platform was coated with clumps of young witches and wizards and their parents; the brick floor could barely be seen under all the boots.  

You bid goodbye to your parents, ready to start a new (magical) chapter of your life. As you skipped gleefully to the entrance of the enchanted coach, you caught sight of a rufescent sea of wizards bickering and chuckling with each other. There were six carrot-topped wizards in total: a middle-aged and balding father, an equally middle-aged warm and caring mother, a short and freckle-ridden son who appeared to be the oldest, a tall and stuck-up boy with pretentious-looking glasses who was tightening the crimson tie around his neck, and two identical-looking boys who seemed to be first years as well.

One of them could be seen tieing the stuck-up boy’s shoelaces together, a mischievous smirk on his face as he did. The other was distracting the glasses-wearing brother, shooting the knotter an occasional sneaky glance.  

You smiled at the sight before stepping into the train, eager to make new friends. You felt a little less nervous upon seeing students chatting in their compartments; pure joy from students’ laughing and yelling filled the corridor.

You looked around in search of a promising compartment. Finally, after what felt like hours of looking, you settled on a compartment filled with three other first-years. There were two girls and a boy: one of the girls, Angelina, was animatedly recounting a story, the other, Alicia, sprinkled in witty comments, and a smitten-looking boy named Lee was blushing in the corner, listening intently.  

After a while of bonding with your new friends, the train slowly began to chug along the tracks,  rhythmic clanking creating some pleasant background ambiance. The train began to gain speed before your compartment door was slid open by none other than the vexatious redheaded twins.  

The twin who tied his brother’s shoelaces together, who you later learned was named Fred, confidently took a seat next to Lee. They quickly struck up a conversation, seemingly clicking almost instantly. The twin who served as the distraction for his poor older brother, George, sat down next to you timidly.  

At first, George was too shy to say anything other than a meek, “hello”, but as soon as the trolley stacked with sweets rolled around, he became quite talkative. He was very observant; he would enchant you with beautiful descriptions of the most minute details in the most mundane things.  

George was so observant, in fact, that he noticed you didn’t get anything from the trolley, despite the look on your face saying that it wasn’t by choice. He could only afford a single chocolate frog with the spare change his mother gave him, which he handed to you with a toothy grin.

You yanked on George’s long arm, pulling him behind one of the large brick pillars supporting the platform. “Okay, George, for this to work, we can’t be seen by anyone.” You unsheathed your wand from your pocket, preparing to cast a spell.

“I’m going to cast a disillusionment charm, okay? This should make us blend in with our surroundings so we can sneak onto the train.  If I do it correctly, we should be able to see each other just fine, though.”  

After receiving an accepting nod from George, you gave him a light tap on the shoulder with the tip of your wand. Camouflage slowly dripped down his body, as if someone poured some sort of invisibility paint above his head. Just as quickly as he faded into the pillar behind him, he returned back to normal colors. You hoped he was still invisible to everyone else.  

“Wicked,” he uttered, checking out his arms as they turned invisible and back.

You did the same to yourself without hesitation. George watched with curiosity as you blended seamlessly into the platform; he then admired you as your features slowly returned from invisibility. Every eyelash, every blemish, and every inch of your lips never failed to go unnoticed by him.

“What’s the next step of the plan, Captain?” George asked with a salute.

“So, without being seen, once all the students are off the platform and on the train, we need to sneak onto the caboose, where we should be able to ride safely. After that, it’s smooth sailing to Hogwarts!”

“That sounds easy enough… I think,” George said with his hand in his palm, thinking over the steps of the plan intently.  

“Oh trust me, it’ll be great! I mean, if you can set off fireworks during an exam guarded by Umbridge, you can sneak onto a bloody train.” You gave George a reassuring thumbs-up.

“Don’t even remind me of that soul-sucking bright pink nightmare!” George said with a sarcastic eye roll.

As students slowly started filtering into the train, your time to strike inched closer and closer. Finally, the clock struck eleven, and you and George were dashing across the platform to the back of the train with your hands intertwined with one another’s.

You and George leaped onto the back ledge of the train just in time, for the scarlet locomotive slowly started rolling along the tracks just as you latched onto the railing. The both of you broke into cheers of triumph the moment the train was out of the vicinity of the station.  

“Y/N, look at the window, there’s no reflection of us in it. We really are undetectable,” George mentioned, gesturing towards the window.   

It was unsettling to not see your usual features bouncing off the window, but you were thankful that your charm had worked.  

You moved to sit on the ledge of the train, which was small, only about a foot wide. You put your legs through the wide rails so that the soles of your sneakers nearly dragged on the tracks. George took a seat next to you, his lanky legs sitting crisscross.  

The scenery that the express heaved through was breathtaking; it was even better feeling the crisp air on your face. The rolling moss-tinted hills, vibrant green and yellow trees that dotted the horizon, and worn stone archways that cut through the landscape allowing the train to huff on. All of it reminded you of the impressionist paintings in museums.  

The sunlight bashfully peeked through the clouds like the small flashes of vibrant strawberries hiding under their large green leaves on a serene spring day. The air tasted sweet and refreshing; it felt like you hadn’t ever breathed until your lungs were filled with it.

You and George sat peacefully in silence, listening to the noises of the express and the faint chirping of birds, reflecting on the past. Eventually, he said softly, gaze pointed to the scenery, “I can still remember the moment I realized I was in love with you.”

He continued, “It was the start of fifth year, on this very train. The moment you sat down in the compartment next to me, I just knew.  Everything was different. There were so many things I never noticed until then; it was like my eyes were finally open.”

Silence filled the air. You couldn’t think of what to say, and even if you did, you wouldn’t know how to say it.  

“Everything about you looked so beautiful all of a sudden. The way you moved or swished your wand, the way your lips enunciated every heavenly word that fell from your tongue. All of it.”

George turned to you nervously. What if I messed it all up? What if that wasn’t the right thing to say? he thought. You stared down at the track, lost in the depths of your mind. 

Everything George had ever spoken to you danced through your brain like ballet; his words sounded like rich and eloquent poetry, even his simple cheers or quips at teachers. Your heart felt like it was beating a million times the speed of the chugging crimson engine.

You rapidly pivoted your head to him, his uncertain gaze immediately locking deeply with yours’. Your eyes were clouded with determination and passion, which reflected in the kiss that you swiftly pulled him into. His lips felt magical against yours’, still oozing with lively youthfulness as always.  

George tenderly tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, you wrapped one of your hands around the nape of his neck. The kiss softened, becoming something slow and loving. Your other hand intertwined delicately with his’, which lay softly on your thigh.  

After a while of sugary sweet kissing, George’s lips parted, uttering an “I love you,” lightly.

“I love you, too. Promise me you’ll marry me someday?” You asked, still heavily under the angelic ginger’s trance.  

“You know I couldn’t marry anyone but you, Y/N.”

----

The sun slowly retreated behind the horizon, painting the sky a brilliant and fiery orange, which nearly matched the hue of George’s wind-swept hair.  You languidly rested your head on his broad shoulder, staring out in the distance. Your face lingered with euphoria, courtesy of George’s amazing kisses which had just peppered every inch of it.  

The backpack stocked with snacks you perfectly packed was now filled only with empty food wrappers. Most of the various foodstuffs had found a new home safely in your boyfriend’s black hole of a stomach, leaving you with mere crumbs to chew.  

“Georgie… why’d you have to eat all the snacks?  I’m starving,” you asked dramatically, pretending to be skin-and-bones. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t save enough for you, darling. I would give you some but… y’know… they’re in my stomach.” George petted your hair caringly with a regretful smile, his strong fingers gently brushing through your strands, taking in the familiar scent of your shampoo.

As you sat, gaze towards the breathtaking sunset, George mechanically started braiding a small section of your hair. He had always been an expert at braids; Ginny taught him how to fourth year. His mind was elsewhere than your strands, however, for he was plotting something significantly more mischievous.  

George retracted his hands from your hair, the soothing touch of his fingers dissipating from your scalp. He stood up from the cozy spot beside you, turning to peer through the window of the coach. His eyes scanned the corridor like a hawk, his brain spindling abstract ideas into a devious plan reminiscent of the schemes he so often plotted back at Hogwarts. 

“Georgie, what are you doing?” you asked quizzically. 

After one final glance through the coach window (bearing no reflection), he said with a devilishly handsome and mischievous smirk, “I have a plan.”

Before you could interrogate him any further, in one calculated motion, he swung the emergency door open, leaping inside the train full of students.  

If anyone was skilled enough to pull off whatever he was set on doing, it was George. While Fred was often the instigator of the twins’ famous pranks, George was often pulling the weight of the trick.  

You just hoped the disillusionment charm hadn’t worn off yet.  

----

George silently crept through the corridors of each enchanted coach, elaborately dancing around stray students who occasionally ditched their compartments. His face was scrunched with determination as if he were a raider searching for the holy grail.  

It took all his self-control, and more, to resist sneaking into Malfoy’s compartment and giving him a slap across the head; it was even harder resisting giving Ron a friendly spook, along with the other members of the Golden Trio. He decided to stay on track of his mission, for you and you only.  

Every coach he passed through, he became increasingly more irritated and nervous. Now that he was an adult, there wouldn’t just be a simple ten points deducted from Gryffindor, no. Sneaking onto a train full of students and stealing candy from the poor old lady’s trolley of sweets would be a hefty fine. Molly would definitely not be pleased.  

Finally, in the coach closest to the engine (and unfortunately furthest from the back), laid the trolley, luckily unattended. It was practically overflowing with classic sweets that he used to enjoy so much: colorful Berties Botts Every Flavour Beans (he swears he got a booger flavored one once), towering stacks of frosted cauldron cakes, clear-as-glass sugar quills, and chocolate frogs.   

George, of course, knew your favorite anything and everything like the back of his hand. He swiftly grabbed a package of candy from the bottom rack of the trolley, a twinge of guilt hitting him in the heart. The kind old lady would be down one treat. His guilt was quickly alleviated when magically, another perfectly packaged sweet filled the empty space.  

The expedition back to the caboose was a decidedly more risky one; it’s a lot more obvious that someone is invisible when a piece of candy is levitating midair. Luckily, the darker it got outside, the more students opted for the comfort of their cozy compartments, which fostered the perfect environment for sleeping. After all, when he and Fred would pull pranks on the train, this was the hour they’d hit the hardest.  

He was nearly to the back coach when a now sixth year Neville Longbottom emerged from his cabin, a defeated look on his face. A harshly conquered game of wizard’s chess could be seen, Luna Lovegood sitting next to the board with a neutral smile resting on her lips.  

George had tried to dance around Neville, but Longbottom’s clumsiness was no match for him. Not even a second passed before Neville rammed headfirst into George’s chest, falling backward. He laid on the floor for a minute, dumbfounded, before cautiously getting up, reaching for the floating sweet that George grasped high above his head.

George couldn’t help but mutter a low ‘sorry’ to poor Neville before rapidly darting past him towards the door. Neville looked around suspiciously for a minute longer before accepting the fact that he had likely been the subject of another foul prank.  

Finally, unscathed, George returned to the rear of the train, where you lay half sprawled across the ledge sleepily. Your eyes were closed, your ears focused on the calming rhythmic rattling of the wheels on the track.

A small smile couldn’t help but creep onto George’s face at the sight of you asleep. He gently tapped you awake, a soft hum escaping his lips. Your eyes fluttered open, a loving look glazing them.  

“What is it, Georgie?” you asked, taking in your surroundings.  

“Just wanted to make sure that you didn’t fall asleep here. You’d be sore by the time we get to our destination if you did,” George said with a wink. 

He outstretched his hand like Prince Charming, helping you stand up from the floor. Your rubious-haired boyfriend inconspicuously held his other hand behind his back, concealing the candy in his large palm.   

“Where did you go, George? One moment you’re out here with me, next moment you’re off into the train packed full of people!” you questioned curiously, inspecting George from head to toe.

“Well, you said you were hungry, so naturally....” he said, “I had to get you something to eat.”

George held out a single chocolate frog in his hand like a proud little kid. He wore the exact same smile he sported first year: a look radiating innocence and kindness. You gingerly accepted the frog, slowly unwrapping the chocolate and stuffing the card in your pocket for Ron.  

“...just like first year,” you muttered, barely able to make a sound.

You were seated on the tail of the express once again, eyes pointed towards the inky black and star-blemished sky. George quickly mirrored your actions, comfortably sitting next to you. While you munched on your chocolate frog joyfully, George rested his head on your shoulder, even though he was very much taller than you. He momentarily began humming a lullaby he learned as a baby; the vibrations emitted from his voice box resonated comfortingly through your body.  

His angelic humming echoed lovingly through your brain all the way to Hogwarts.

----

The train screeched to a halt at the Hogwarts station behind the school. The soothing rattle of the train ceased, to your dismay, and exuberant students began to flood out of the express like a tidal wave. You and George trailed far behind the various cliques of students, cracking jokes at the expense of the new first years.  

“Look at that poor one!  He’s fixed to become the new Neville!” you said laughing, before getting a playful elbow from George.  

“McGonagall will have quite the handful with those two over there. Reckon they’ll be tricksters like us?” George asked with a nostalgic laugh, pointing at two boys who were sneakily distributing some sort of (surely hexed) candy to their gullible peers. They looked so much like Fred and George did in their first year, down to the very same expression.  

“No doubt about it,” you said confidently, darting your eyes comparatively from the boys to your boyfriend. “It really is quite uncanny.”

Soon enough, the towering main entrance to the castle was opened with a swish, and the distinctly familiar smell flooded your nostrils. You were finally home once again. Not much had changed since you left, besides the absence of all of Umbridge’s devious decrees, replaced with some friendly-looking paintings.  

“Looks the exact same, doesn’t it?” George whispered, careful to be unnoticed by the excited soon-to-be-sorted first years who were guided to the Great Hall. You nodded yes, clenching his hand harder with exhilaration.  

Instead of risking getting caught during the time-honored Sorting Ceremony, you and George walked aimlessly, enjoying the unique ambiance of the school. After a while of galavanting around the halls, you climbed the moving steps towards the Gryffindor tower.

“Open up, it's George,” he whispered to the portrait of the Fat Lady with a smirk, and surprisingly, she obliged with a pleasantly surprised smile. Your stare flickered from George to the portrait, mouth agape.  

“Let’s just say, me and the Fat Lady have a lot of… history. Oh, not like that!” George let out a laugh followed by an adorable wink.

You gravitated towards the comfortable crimson couches which sat by the large and inviting fireplace, dragging George’s hand behind you.  

Your body melted into the red plush of the couch, the soft material much more desirable than the stiff metal rails of the express. Your carrot-topped better half took a seat next to you, his body intertwining with yours.

Gryffindors threatened to flood into the common room any given moment, so you wasted no time pulling George’s soft shirt to your chest for a gentle and loving kiss.  

“Blimey! Get a room you two!” Ron said, walking towards the two of you from the portrait, gagging.

“I guess the charm’s worn off, Georgie.”

“Just in time, too,” he said with a slightly cocky smile.  

You turned to Ron, who reluctantly held his arms out for a hug. You ran to him with all your might, meeting the messy-haired ginger’s chest. “I’m so glad to see you again.  It’s felt like ages.”

“Glad to see you too, Y/N,” he said with a genuine smile.  

Harry and Hermione entered not long after, a matching perplexed expression on their faces.  “Y/N? George? How’d you get in here? Surely McGonagall wouldn’t permit a visit such as this?” Hermione asked, giving you a small but confused hug.  

“Well, the thing is, no one knows we’re actually here,” George said, a grin on his face.  

“How’d you do it? Sneak in here, I mean,” Harry asked, eager to learn a new way to sneak to the school.  

“Snuck onto the express. Brilliant idea and execution courtesy of my dear Y/N. She’s a genius in training. Learning from the best, of course,” George said sarcastically, his thumb pointing to his chest.  

“Very funny, Georgie.  This one was all me.  My magnum opus, some would say.”

----

The ensuing night was amazing. Laughter echoed through the cherry-tinted walls of the common room like a magnificent orchestra; classic games like spin the bottle and truth or dare were played religiously.  

By the time it struck midnight, your mind had nearly escaped to your hazy dreamscape too many times to count. It had been a long day; you started early with cooking a full breakfast, sneaking onto the Hogwarts Express, and partying for hours into the night with the Gryffindors, all with the love of your life. To say you were exhausted was a massive understatement. 

Harry had graciously offered his comfortable bed to you, Ron reluctantly sacrificing his to George. “You owe me one,” he repeatedly grumbled to his older brother, who plastered a sickly innocent smile on in response.  

George took quick notice of the unfathomable exhaustion plastered onto your face from his couch across from you, immediately announcing to the chatting group of friends, “I think it’s time for me and Y/N to turn in for the night. See you all in the morning.”  

‘Goodnights’ drifted in and out of your ears as George picked you up from the couch bridal-style, carrying you light-as-a feather up the steps to the boys’ dorms. He could envision a furious Head Boy Percy demanding, ‘Put her down, George!  Girls sleep in the girls’ dormitories, boys in the boys’!  They have that rule for a reason!’ 

He smiled as he creaked open the sixth year boys’ dorm’s door, laying you peacefully onto Harry’s scarlet four-poster bed. He grabbed some cozy knitted blankets, gently setting them over your body.

“There you are, angel, have a good nights’ sleep. I love you with all my heart,” George cooed.  He turned to Ron’s bed with a smile before you grasped his hand desperately.

“Before you go to bed Georgie, did you have fun today?  I know you super were stressed out yesterday and all,” your words came out slurred and tired, some borderline incoherent.  

“I have fun any time I’m with you, darling,” he said, smoothing your ruffled hair. “But yes, I had the time of my life with you today. Just being with you makes my day infinitely brighter. You’re like my little sunshine.”

“And will you actually marry me someday, Georgie?” you asked, your droopy eyes filled with an unfathomable and everlasting love. You were deep under the heavenly redhead’s spell once again.

“I always keep my word, darling.”

[awritingtree]

Never Enough (2/7)

Sirius Black x daughter!reader

Summary: Y/N Black is back at Hogwarts after running away from her father’s, Sirius Black’s, house during the summer. The year passes by and soon it’s the end of the year, with the OWLS finished. What happens when she finds out that her father was captured by Voldemort?

Words: ~2.5k

Warnings: angst, shitty father-daughter relationship, self-deprecating thoughts.

A/N: I KNOW! I KNOW! I KNOW! I know there isn’t a lot of Sirius x reader interactions in this chapter. There are some indirect interactions - or lack of. But I felt it was important to have this chapter and not skip a whole year from the summer to the end of 5th year. It also allowed to me to give more insight into the reader’s feelings. And I realize some parts seem rushed but like they aren’t really that important so... This chapter was important for the entire plot I have planned because we all know what’s coming in the next chapter :) Anyways I hope you enjoy this filler chapter in the mean time xx

Series Masterlist

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

The rest of your enjoyable summer back home with the Tonks flashed by and the next thing you knew, you were boarding the Hogwarts Express on September 1st. The return to Hogwarts was accompanied by a change in season, the green leaves changing colours ranging from red to orange to yellow; falling, leaving the trees bare. Following autumn came winter, which passed by just as fast. The grounds covered in soft snow, crunching beneath the feet of the various students making their way in and out of the castle.

Christmas arrived sooner than you’d thought. The white layer made the world look so pure, so peaceful. You had opted out of going home for Christmas. Any chance of actually staying home would be impossible with the Order of the Phoenix still in place at 12 Grimmauld Place. Since you hadn’t returned, you had sent Mr. Weasley a get-well-soon present on top of his Christmas gift.

So instead you had spent the holidays at Hogwarts in the company of your Slytherin friends, spending your days reading, enjoying the grand feasts in the Great Hall and catching up on some much-needed sleep. You had expected a gift, but you were left disappointed as you saw the only presents lying at the foot of your bed were from the Tonks, Ginny, Hermione, Mrs. Weasley and your Slytherin friends. Lying in bed that night, your memories took you to a time somewhere around the beginning of November.

“Ew! Could you maybe consider showering before deciding to show up in public?” Parkinson’s whiny voice entered your ears as you ventured into the Great Hall on a Saturday morning.

Your broomstick was tucked in your underarm as you tied off one end of your French-braided hair. You wore your green and silver quidditch uniform messily, having rushed out of bed from waking up late. You had decided not to take a shower beforehand, knowing you’d get filthy all over again in a matter of a few hours. The sleepiness was still visible on your face, eyes drooping with weariness.

“Piss off Parkinson. Go drool over Draco elsewhere if my appearance is bothering you so much,” you sneered, plopping down on the bench, pouring yourself some pumpkin juice.

The arrival of owls stopped Parkinson from cursing you out. You looked up to see a snowy owl make its way towards the Gryffindor table, dropping a letter into the hands of Harry Potter. Upon reading who had sent him a letter, Harry, Ron and Hermione quickly glanced your way before quickly looking away, huddling together to prevent anyone from reading whatever the letter entailed. You sighed looking down solemnly, knowing whose letter would elicit such a reaction from the trio. In this moment you had never hated the snake emblem across the area over your heart more.

You’d cried yourself to sleep that night. Not even the fact that Slytherin would finally have a chance to win the Quidditch House Cup, due to the banning of Gryffindor’s seeker and beaters, had cheered you up. 

Both of those nights you had cried yourself to sleep, beating yourself up for ever expecting, for hoping, that this time away from your father had him changing his opinion on you. You didn’t know why you still cared. You didn’t understand why you craved his love, why you hadn’t given up on having any kind of relationship with him. You didn’t know why you still cared - you shouldn’t. You hated yourself for caring; but a small part of you, the five-year old girl that cried, begging for a chance to go visit her father for a year, still existed. No matter how many times you repeatedly denied it to yourself, you seeked his approval, his love.

You had fallen asleep on both of those nights wondering what you could possibly do to be worthy of his love, wondering why you were never enough.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

Winter had come and gone in a jiffy. May brought sunshine, warmth and the blossoming of new life along with it. By now, the D.A. had been found and disbanded, the Inquisitorial squad was thriving off making every non-Slytherin’s life miserable - all because you, now, had a toad for a headmaster.

Your OWLs were coming up soon, pushing you to study more than you had ever before, distracting you from thinking about anything else.

“I don't understand why you talk to that blood traitor and mudblood.”

“Because they’re my friends, Draco,” you sighed, for what seemed like the millionth time, “And stop calling them that. It’s despicable.”

“You don’t need such friends. You have us,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, friends such as Parkinson, Crabbe, Goyle, and Zabini? I think I’m good,” you replied, scoffing.

Draco pulled you around to face him by your upper arm.

“I’m just trying to look out for you. These times, they aren’t the best. You don’t need to risk putting yourself in danger by associating with such...” he trailed off.

“Such what?” you prompted him, encouraging him to say something he’d regret. He stayed silent, staring at you, trying to say what he couldn’t out loud through his eyes, but your irritation didn’t allow you to see past his words.

“And I don’t need you to look out for me. I don’t need anyone to look for me! I can do that very well on my own, thank you. You’re not my brother,” you exclaimed, wrenching your hand out of his grip.

A series of emotions; hurt, anger, sadness; flashed across his face - gone before you could make anything of it. Your face softened as you realized what you’d said.

“Draco, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that,” you apologized immediately.

Draco moved out of the way just as you were about to lay our hand on his shoulder.

“No you’re right. I’m not your brother, Y/N,” spat Draco before softening his tone, “but I see you as my sister so I will continue to look out for you, no matter how you feel about it.”

He stormed away before you could get a second to respond, leaving you staring at the spot he’d previously occupied with a mixture of feelings.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

OWLs were finished. You couldn’t believe that you were finally done. Your plan was to set off towards the Black Lake right after your last exam, lie back in the grass with your eyes closed to soak up the warmth shining down on your face. You longed to hear the sound of overlapping water from the cool breeze lulling you into a state where for the first time since last year, you’d feel a sense of peace and quiet.

But it seemed the universe hated the idea of you relaxing, which is why you were currently in Umbridge’s - Umbitch as you liked to call her - with the rest of the Inquisitorial squad along with a few former D.A. members. You were all waiting on Professor Snape to make his way to office, upon Umbridge’s order request. In addition to the purrs of the many cat pictures hanging on the horrid pink walls, the office was filled with the sounds of D.A. members trying to pull away from the Inquisitorial Squad’s grips.

“You wanted to see me, Headmistress?” asked Professor Snape entering the room as he eyed the struggling students, unconcerned.

Umbridge stood up smiling widely, almost cynically, “Yes. I would like a bottle of Veritaserum. I wish to interrogate Mr. Potter here.”

“You used up the last of the Veritaserum I had on your previous interrogation with Potter. Surely you didn’t use it all?”

“I’m sure you can make some more,” Umbridge replied with an overly sweet smile that made you want to vomit from the sight of it.

“Unless you wish to poison him - I have the greatest sympathy if you do - I can’t help you, not until it’s ready after a month,” Professor Snape said as he looked towards Harry.

Harry’s face scrunched up, seeming to concentrate on communicating something to Snape but his attempt was futile.

“You’re on probation! You’re deliberately being unhelpful. Now get out of my office!” shrieked Umbridge.

Snape blankly looked at her unbothered before turning to head out of the door.

“He’s got Padfoot! He’s got Padfoot at the place where it’s hidden!”

You felt like you had just been drenched in ice cold water at Harry’s shouts.

‘He? Who is he? It had to be Voldemort. Who else could have Harry in such a terrified state? But no, it couldn’t be possible,’ you thought. 

Ginny’s wince brought you out of your spiralizing thoughts. You loosened your tightening grip on her hand, too panic-stricken to mutter an apology. Your wide eyes drifted from Harry to Professor Snape.

“Padfoot?” exclaimed Umbridge, “What is Padfoot? Where what is hidden? Snape, what do you know about this?”

Snape turned back around to face Harry. His face was unreadable. You just hoped he would get some help, that he understood what Harry was shouting about.

“I have no idea,” he drawled, “Potter is speaking nonsense.”

You watched him walk out the door. Your palms had started to shake and sweat, everything drowned out. The only thing you could concentrate on was Snape, hoping he would give away any sign that he understood, he was going to do something. For once it seemed the universe had your back because just before he shut the door, his eyes made contact with yours as he moved his head, his nod bare visible. Relief flowed through your nerves; help was on the way.

You tuned into the conversation when you heard Hermione’s shrieks, “No! Professor- that’s illegal.”

Umbridge paid no mind to Hermione, raising her wand at Harry. Your hands clenched around your wand, preparing to take any action if needed as Hermione tried to convince Umbridge to stop.

“What Cornelius doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Umbridge said, “Cruc-”

“NO!” your shout was drowned out by Hermione’s.

“Harry, we- we have to tell her,” she cried.

“It seems little Miss Question-all is going to give us some answers! Go on, then,” said Umbridge, triumphantly.

You stared at Hermione questionably. What was she doing? She couldn’t tell that toad anything. The Ministry would surely get your father and then- you didn’t want to think what would happen if they got their hands on him.

“He was trying to speak to Professor Dumbledore,” Hermione said in between her cries.

You felt Ginny tense in your grip in surprise as you suppressed the urge to sigh out loud in relief. Your eyes drifted around the room trying to think of a way to get yourself out of this situation and to Professor Snape. You needed to find a way to leave and help. You think you heard Hermione tell Umbridge about some weapon Dumbledore left in the forbidden forest in between your racing thoughts. You found the perfect opportunity as Umbridge headed out the door with Hermione and Harry. As soon as their footsteps could no longer be heard, all hell broke loose.

Ron slammed his head back into Warrington’s nose. You let go of Ginny, moving to get Crabbe off of Neville Longbottom, as she moved to go help Luna.

“Stupefy!” you yelled, pointing your wand towards Crabbe. You rushed to Neville, crouching down next to him as he caught his breath, “You okay?”

Neville weakly nodded. Satisfied with his nod, you got up to go help the rest. You felt Draco look at you, betrayed that you were helping the others, right before Ginny got him with the Bat-Bogey Hex. You felt a curse fly by you, grazing your cheek as someone pushed you to the side. Blood trickled down your cheek, dripping down staining your robes.

“What in the bloody hell are you doing, Ginny!? She’s one of them!” yelled Ron.

“No she’s not. She-”

“What do you mean? You see that badge, right? You do remember when she was holding you hostage right now? How about all the time she spent trying to catch the D.A.?” he rambled.

Ginny rolled her eyes exasperated, “Oh stop being so dramatic and listen. She’s not one of them. She’s been helping us all along. Why do you think no one patrolled near the seventh-floor corridor on the days we had a D.A. meeting?”

Ron shifted his eyes from Ginny, whose cheek had long scratches much like yours, to you before returning back to his sister, “That’s a load of codswallop.”

“We don’t have the time for this; We need to get going,” you said, impatiently. You did not have the time to convince anyone on whose side you were on. Your father could be dead by now for all you knew, and you had no clue how quick the Order would be informed to make their way towards wherever he was captured.

Ron opened his mouth, preparing to spew out an argument, “I’m sorry. We-”

“Look. Voldemort has my father right now and Salazar knows what he’s doing to him. No matter what has happened, he is my father. And you are not as smart as I give you credit for if you for a second think, I am not coming with you lot.”

“She’s right. We should get going. We’re wasting time,” Neville spoke up.

Ron looked between Ginny, Neville and you before begrudgingly agreeing.

You all quickly made your way out of the castle and towards the Forbidden Forest. You bumped into Harry and Hermione on your way there.

“How’d you get away?” asked Harry, surprised.

“Couple of hexes. Neville threw a good Impediment Jinx. Though, Ginny was the best, she got Malfoy good with a Bat-Bogey Hex. Anyway, what’ve you done with Umbridge?” replied Ron.

“Carried away by a herd of centaurs.”

“They left you behind?” asked a shocked Ginny.

“No, they got chased off by Grawp.”

“Whose Grawp?” questioned Luna, intrigued.

“Hagrid’s little brother,” explained Hermione.

“Never mind that!” interrupted Ron, “What did you find out in the fire? Does You-Know-Who have Sirius or-?”

“Yes” said Harry, “I’m sure Sirius is still alive but I’m not sure how to get there to help him.”

Everyone fell silent, the situation looking hopeless.

“What’s she doing here?” Harry asked, his eyes finally landing on you.

“He’s my father, Harry. Did you really think I was going to let you go alone?” you said, raising an eyebrow in question.

“Why? It’s not like you’ve cared before,” he retaliated causing rage to consume you at his unfiltered and forward words.

‘How dare he say that? I haven’t cared!?’

You opened your mouth to rebuttal, ready to release your wrath on the boy looking at you accusingly before Luna chimed in, paying no attention to the tension in the air.

“Well, we’ll have to fly, won’t we?”

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

General taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore @pregnant-piggy @approved-by-dentists @kashishwrites @remmyswritings @angelinathebook @idont-knowrn @coffee--writes @kinkyduuh @ickle-ronniekins

Never enough taglist: @evilluciferisevil @slyther-inn @bloodyxheaven @gcdric @mycobrakai1972 @loony-loopy-lupinn @the-mighty-bookworm @mads-bri @tessaem @hannah220506 @hariosborn @kpopgirlbtssvt

Lmk if you wanted to be added to either taglist :)

[ineloqueent]

hedgehogs & kisses

Brian May x Reader

synopsis: Brian takes you to see some of his favourite animals— hedgehogs!

warnings: this is so sugary sweet that your teeth might fall out :’)

word count: 1.6k

a/n: i could not for the life of me find a gif of brian from 1974, but i love his expressions in this one, so there :)

see the moodboard here!

⭒

Spring, 1974

“Love, it’s time to get up.”

Fingers curled around your upper arm, and despite their lightness, you buried further down into your pillow, retreating.

“But ‘m so comfortable,” you mumbled, refusing to open your eyes.

Faintly, you registered the sound of Brian’s warm chuckle, and the bed sinking beneath him as he sat down.

“Do you remember what I said we’d do today?” he asked, his touch ghosting your neck as he brushed little hairs from your face.

“Something about getting up horribly early,” you said, squeezing your eyes shut to prove your point.

You could hear the smile in his voice.

“Yes, but I’m sure you’ll agree it’s worth it.”

His fingers caressed your cheek lazily, and you sighed, turning over so that you faced him, and shuffling closer, to wrap your arms around his middle.

You felt cashmere and denim beneath your hands, and knew that he was already dressed, but you nuzzled into his side and pulled him closer.

You nearly succeeded in toppling him back into bed, but he laughed,

“No, I’m not falling for that again. Get up, love.”

You groaned and pulled your pillow over your eyes.

Brian pried the pillow gently from your fingers and set it aside. He leaned down to you, his breaths tickling your skin, and began to kiss down your temple and along your jaw. When he pressed a soft kiss to your mouth, you reciprocated, bringing your arms around his neck.

But he pulled away, after nudging your nose with his.

“C’mon, beautiful.”

When you still didn’t move, he sighed.

Then he slid his hands beneath you and swept you into his arms, hoisting you up.

You gave a cry of surprise, finally opening your eyes to attempt to bat him away.

“Put me down, you fool!”

He smiled down at you, his eyes twinkling. “Absolutely not.”

“What, you gonna carry me the whole way to the woods?”

“Ah, so you do remember.”

You grumbled, “I’d have said I was looking forward to it, if it wasn’t for the fact that it’s currently four o’clock in the morning on a Saturday.”

“We can sleep in tomorrow,” said Brian, and set you down gently. “Now get dressed and we can go. It’s quite cold out, though, so I’d recommend layers.”

You folded your arms. “Thought you said you weren’t gonna put me down.”

“Well, if you don’t get dressed, I really will pick you up again and carry you the whole way to the woods.”

“Not if you can’t catch me!” you said, and hurried down the hall.

Brian called after you, “How old are you, again?”

“Younger than you!” you hollered back.

“Yeah, by a few months.”

You paused at the bathroom door, because he hadn’t followed you. “But you’re not old enough to not chase after me,” you said.

There was a silence. Then,

“Certainly not. You want to find out who can run faster?”

“What?”

Footfalls bounded down the hall and you shrieked with laughter as his arms wound around you again, and he lifted you off the ground to whirl you around.

⭒

A good half-hour later, you were dressed in five layers, because the early spring was still cold. Woolen socks warmed your feet in your faux-fur-padded boots, and a scarf stolen from Brian’s extensive collection adorned your neck. Your collar was pulled up to your chin, and you wore trousers lined with fleece.

You shivered all the same. It was still chilly outside, though the snow had finally begun to melt, and sprigs of bright green grass and bulbs in various colours had started to poke through the surface of the forest floor.

Brian’s cheeks and nose were pink, and his curls fluttered about his face as the wind blew through the trees.

It was a bit of a walk to where you were going, but you didn’t mind, because you were always happy to spend more time with Brian.

Except that it was really very cold.

You shivered again.

Brian glanced over at you, smiled, and took your hand.

“Nearly there, love.”

And as the two of you passed a particularly tall pine tree, Brian suddenly pulled you down behind a log, and shushed your askance of what he was doing.

“Look, there.” He raised his hand and, pressing close to you, pointed directly ahead, to a bush beneath which there seemed to be a hole in the ground. Upon closer scrutiny, you realised that the hole was not only a hole, but a den, inhabited by a black-nosed creature with soft hazel eyes— much like Brian’s— and a fine-tufted tail of orange dipped in snowy white.

“A fox,” you murmured, and Brian smiled.

“Foxes,” he corrected, and when you blinked at him, he nodded in the direction of the den again, and there you saw, not one, not two, but three foxes.

Two of the animals were more brown in the colour of their coats, and looked quite a bit smaller. The third fox seemed to be coercing the first two out of the den.

“Kits,” said Brian, in the soft voice he reserved for stargazing and animals, and for you, when his romanticism got the better of him. “They’re getting ready to leave the den for the first time.”

The smaller foxes still had half-closed eyes, and looked sleepy in the twilight, still rather infant-like.

“So early?”

“They’re a little late, actually. Most kits leave the den within three or four weeks after birth. But those ones must be at least six or seven weeks, with their colouring. They’re getting that red tinge to their coats, see.”

He was right; little patches of red had begun to seep into the brown, like blooming flowers, or a fire spreading.

After watching the foxes for a little while longer, Brian took your hand again.

“Come on,” he whispered. “Some owls might still be up and about.”

“Really?” you asked, as he pulled you up to stand.

He nodded. “Still a little dark out, so probably.”

Swinging your clasped hands between you, he winked, and led you up a small hill.

Letting go of your hand, he lifted both of his to his lips, and through some complicated contortion of his long fingers, made a sound that could easily have been mistaken for the hoot of an actual owl.

Then, without warning, a shadow swept over you, and instinctively, you ducked, turning just in time to see the outline of what looked to be a large barn owl.

Brian laughed, “It went straight for me! Must have mistaken my hair for a nice, cosy spot of moss for a nest, eh?”

You grinned back at him. “It was as attracted to your hair as I was.”

Brian rolled his eyes, a smile still on his lips. The two of you had a running joke that his hair was the only thing he had going for him, though, of course, that was completely false. You told him often how much you loved every part of him, body and soul, with kisses, with words, with a short gaze or a lingering touched. You loved him very dearly, you did.

The warmth in your heart seemed to have made you suddenly sleepy, because you yawned, and Brian canted his head at the sight of you.

“Oh dear,” he said, drawing close to smooth a gentle hand over your hair. “One more thing, and then we’ll get you back to bed, my love.”

You nodded, and Brian wrapped his arm around you as the two of you began to walk again.

It was nearly six in the morning, and light was dawning in the pale sky, fluffy clouds painted in pastels as the sun rose beneath them.

“Here we are,” murmured Brian, after a short walk that had taken you back down the hill and slightly north of the fox den you’d seen earlier. “Unfortunately, I’ve seen no sign of badgers, so that’ll have to wait until another time. But…”

He stooped, and pulled from his jacket pocket a small, burlap pouch. He scattered the contents on the ground beside what looked to be a burrow, then replaced the empty pouch in his pocket, and backed away from the spot, beckoning for you to follow him.

This time, your hiding place was behind a bush, and the two of you crouched quietly, the remnants of snow squeaking beneath your shoes as you settled into a comfortable position.

You waited silently for a few minutes, you yawning repeatedly but trying your best to stay awake, whilst Brian watched with rapt attention the spot he’d left the dried insects.

Then, there came a snuffling sort of sound, and a hedgehog with wide dark eyes and little feet scurried forward, examining the food which Brian had left for it.

Upon seeing the little fellow, you let out a gasp, and Brian glanced over at you, his expression pleased, his eyes alight with a peculiar sort of happiness that seemed almost to define his features more— sharpen the brightness of his irises, broaden the curve of his smile, bring more colour into his cheeks, emphasise the little freckle at the lower half of his lip.

You reached out to take his hand, and his fingers intertwined easily with yours, as you watched the first hedgehog be joined by a second, which appeared to be its mate. You were reminded of yours and Brian’s own little family.

When the hedgehogs had departed once more, some indeterminate minutes later, you were truly beginning to fall asleep.

“Oh, love,” Brian murmured, and pulled you into his arms, placing a brief kiss upon your brow. “Let’s go home.”

You nodded and let him lead you back to the house.

But really, while he was around, you’d been home all along.

[athingthatwantsvirginia]

Not Joyce or Monet

PART THIRTY-NINE OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: major discussions of parent death/death in general, smoking, drinking, plentiful pop culture references

Word Count: 6.3K

Summary: Jess publishes his second book and Ella receives a troubling call from Stars Hollow.

Flopping face-first down onto the bed, Ella breathed a sigh of relief. It would have felt strange not to have a little champagne at Jess’s book launch party. But, she was a lightweight. She was floating somewhere between tipsy, buzzed, and drunk. At least she was still capable of slipping off her shoes before making her way to the bedroom. She’d even managed to change into pajamas, brush her teeth, and wash her face. A far cry from the screwdriver incident at Liz’s baby shower. A heavy winter snow fell outside the windows and a touch of cold air seeped into the draughty apartment. Goosebumps rose lightly on her skin. In her state, they felt nice instead of uncomfortable. She was already dozing when Jess came in, having taken a quick shower. His hair was still damp as he climbed into bed next to her, the movement shaking her from her haze.

“Did you like your party?” she murmured, watching as he shut off the lamp and rolled over to face her.

His face was aglow with the bluish light of the snowy Saturday evening. “Mhm.”

She snickered a bit at his nonchalance. “I know you hate parties, but Chris insisted it was the best way to drum up business. And you do like surprises, Mr. Spontaneity. Matthew and I made it as lowkey as we could.”

“It wasn’t so bad, Eleanor. Really,” he said, shrugging. “You’re remembering that you whispered lines from Catch-22 in my ear all night, right?”

“I figured you’d need some Joseph Heller to make it through,” she explained, slightly sheepish.

Jess smiled. “Of course. And watching Chris and Leo get so drunk they do their acapella version of ‘Under Pressure’ could never be bad.”

“Leo does do a damn good Freddie Mercury,” Ella agreed, chuckling. “I didn’t realize the publishing agents would all go blackout level, too.”

“Oh, yeah. You should’ve seen what Chris did for the Subsect launch. It was like that scene where E.T. gets drunk. But if there were fifty aliens in the movie instead of just one,” Jess said flatly, begrudgingly.

“You must be a little drunk if you’re letting a cheesy eighties movie slip. Or have I finally converted you?” she teased, snuggling deeper into the pillow.

Jess smirked. “Not yet. Chris made me try his Manhattans to see if they ‘tasted too much like gasoline.’”

“I have a sneaking suspicion that they did,” Ella said.

“Someone give the lady a prize,” Jess shot back tiredly. “Good thing we walked there.”

“Yeah. And good thing I got to watch you catch a snowflake with your tongue on the way back.”

“Shut up.”

“Hey, don’t be embarrassed, cutie,” she said, forcing her laughter down. “I’ll be eating my words when you watch me fall on my ass while we’re ice-skating with April.”

She knew if he’d been entirely sober, he wouldn’t have gotten so caught up in his wonderment at the storm. But Ella had also seen him sticking out his tongue awaiting a snowflake in an old, yellowing photo album Liz had shown off during her baby shower. In it, Jess had been no more than three. Dressed in a raggedy winter jacket on some grimy corner of New York City. He and Liz were sticking their tongues out together. Seeing the photo had given Ella’s mouth a bittersweet taste. It was hard to imagine Jess ever feeling so relaxed around his mother. She saw the same rare awe from him on the walk home. Most of the time, he was so weighed down by the world he could barely come up for air. She thought she had never seen him look so young at heart before.

“Can’t wait,” Jess hummed, mocking. It was nearly time for April’s winter break, and Anna had somehow agreed to let her spend it with Luke, Lorelai, and Rory. Ella and Jess had opted to return to Stars Hollow for Christmas, after the bumps in the road on Thanksgiving. Two more days, and they’d be braving the icy roads on their way up to Connecticut. April had already called them to schedule a time for ice-skating. The proper, analytical way the little girl spoke never failed to amuse Ella.

“Me neither,” Ella quipped as her eyelids began to droop again. She could smell the minty scent of Jess’s shampoo.

As he watched her begin to drift off, he leaned in to press a kiss to her forehead. From what Matthew had said, Ella had essentially been put in charge of the party when Chris’s trademark irresponsibility made an appearance. Matthew had jury duty and couldn’t assume his usual role of organizer in the wake of Chris’s chaotic decision-making. What she’d managed to throw together, though, was one of the better parties Jess had ever been to. The publishers they knew usually sent younger employees to the underground press launches, and Chris had ended up making friends with most of the usual suspects at the launch for Jess’s first book. Ella had made sure the guest list only included familiar faces. If they just had to throw him a surprise party, which Chris demanded (normally, she wouldn’t have listened, but if it was a matter of getting his book better exposure, she was willing to risk it), she’d try to make it as comfortable for him as possible. Or, at the very least, bearable.

And she’d just gotten done with finals two days earlier. He could see how tired she was. Her nerves over the possibility of seeing her father during the winter holidays hadn’t helped her sleeping recently either. Though Jess wasn’t sure how it would actually pan out, she claimed she wanted an attempt at apologizing for what she’d said at Adam’s graduation. She was sick of family nonsense, she said. Maybe if she levelled the playing field, they could begin to understand each other again. Ella herself wasn’t sure exactly what had sparked her desire to try again with her family, but suspected it might have been Thanksgiving. Jess, simply put, was someone she admired. Seeing him trying to mend his relationships (even though he didn’t have to, even though it was difficult), made her feel just a little more confident. Maybe not everything turned out bad, after all.

Shutting his own eyes, Jess slipped his hand beneath Ella’s shirt, his fingertips ghosting over her back. She smiled softly at his touch, feather-light. A pleasant shiver rolled through her.

“Thank you for the party,” he said, barely above a whisper.

“Well, thanks for writing my new favorite book,” she answered instantly, sleepy and sincere. “I’m so fucking proud of you.”

.   .   .

There were still a couple hours left until lunchtime when Ella slipped through the door at Truncheon, but it wasn’t entirely uncommon for her to show up and work a little. Especially when she was on break from school and got antsy. Jess had debated giving her the easel he’d bought her for Christmas early, so she would have something new to focus on while he tied up the odds and ends at the book press. But, ultimately, he wanted to wait until the morning after they returned to Philadelphia. It would be far more surprising to wake up and find a Christmas present wrapped up in the living room on the morning of New Year’s Day than on the actual gift-giving holiday.

When he’d left for his last day of work prior to their trip to Connecticut, she’d still been half asleep. Her sketchbook was open on her bedside table, a pencil drawing of a child with hollow eyes having yet to be shaded. She’d been up late working on it the night before, on a roll. He hadn’t even shut the door to the apartment before she was out cold again. He’d been anxious to get back home, to pack and prepare for the trip. In his opinion, there was no use in only opening for a Monday and then closing for the holidays the rest of the week, but Matthew’s stickler spirit won out. Jess wasn’t going to be skipping around the store in merriment as the rest of the world took a vacation, but he also wasn’t moping around like Chris. He was in the midst of diffusing an argument between his two coworkers when Ella arrived.

He wanted to smile when he saw her, and almost did. But then he got a good look at her hazel eyes, and immediately he could tell something was wrong. It wasn’t that she was sleepy, though she looked a bit haggard in with her peacoat tied around her haphazardly and her hair wild, dotted with the snowflakes falling steadily outside. Instead, she looked almost unreachable. His Eleanor who was always so present and vivid and alive, even in the midst of drudgery. And she wasn’t daydreaming, either. She wasn’t off in her own thoughts, thinking of Emily Dickinson or James Joyce or Claude Monet. No; she was simply not there. Not really.

“Hey, honey. You’re early,” he began as she approached him, where he stood in between Matthew and Chris. The two of them didn’t even notice she’d come in until Jess addressed her, still too caught up in their argument over where to place the new books of free-form poetry.

Swallowing harshly, Ella gave a weak smile and raked her fingers through her hair. She walked up to them, wringing her hands together. Jess didn’t need to see her hands to know she had already bitten her nails down to the quick. At the interruption, Chris gave a frustrated huff and turned to Ella.

“Ella, please tell Matthew it makes zero sense to put the free-form poetry anywhere near the sonnets! They should be on opposite ends of the store, as far as I’m concerned,” he exclaimed in exasperation.

Matthew rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest as his jaw clenched. “I’m glad you’re here, Ella. Please tell Chris that we don’t only sell poetry, and free-form or not, it has no business anywhere near science fiction!”

Furrowing her brows, distracted, Ella shook her head. “Um...I don’t know...but I….”

“What?” Jess asked as she gestured slightly with her hands. Her face was pale, and she almost seemed confused, at a loss for words. It didn’t happen to her often, to say the least.

Blowing out a breath, she tried again, jerking her thumb back over her shoulder. “Back at the apartment...I just got a call from my brother. My dad’s dead.”

Jess’s heart dropped into his stomach. “What?”

“Yeah,” Ella said, nodding. As she continued, she took a hair elastic from her wrist and began pulling her locks into a ponytail. “Adam said he was in a car accident this morning. Driving home from some bar in Maryland. If I had to guess, he was still a little drunk from last night. No one else got hurt, which is good. He hit a patch of black ice, and he was going too fast, and I guess he just went right off the road. Into a tree. And he wasn’t wearing his seatbelt.”

Her speech became more urgent with every word, as they heard it sink in for her in real time. But she was never frantic, only determined and stern. The spacey fog was fading from her demeanor, though it remained in her eyes. Only in her eyes. She didn’t give them time to respond, just kept thinking out loud.

“Noah’s already on a plane from Oregon, but I don’t think he’s gonna be any help. And Adam said Fiona’s freaking out, so I’m almost definitely going to have to make the arrangements. I know you guys have work and stuff, but we need to pack up and get there before the rest of the family does, or everything will probably just explode on principle. Fuck! This is just like him. To die a week before Christmas!”

“Whoa, hey, Eleanor, just slow down for a second, okay?” Jess began, taking a hesitant step towards her and grabbing her hand. He squeezed once, hard, hoping to calm her down at least a little.

“Jesus, Ella-” Chris began.

“I’m so sorry,” Matthew said.

Ella shook her head, her face stoic. “Don’t, okay? Don’t be sorry. No one needs to be sorry. He was a fucking drunk, and it finally caught up with him. I just need to get back to Stars Hollow to take care of this, and then maybe Christmas won’t be completely ruined. Sound good?”

“Elle, just hold on. You should sit down and-” Jess said, but she cut him off.

“No, Jess. Seriously, I’m fine. Let’s just go and get it over with, and then it’ll be done,” she said, her hand never leaving his though she didn’t squeeze back. Her tone was tight, clipped, but she didn’t sound angry. He recognized it from the night on the bridge when she’d told him about the days following her mother’s death. The way she held it all together, and blocked it all out. Numb and headstrong.

“Do you want us to come with?” Matthew asked, watching with uncertainty as Ella began to tug Jess towards the door, grabbing his bag for him and handing him his coat.

“What? Of course not,” Ella said, insistent, as though it were obvious. “All I need to do is steal Jess for a few days. You need to do whatever it is you’re gonna do with Mabel. And Chris needs to do whatever it is he’s gonna do with Leo, and you need to tell me about it when we get back. I can pretty much guarantee your stories will be more fun than mine.”

“Are you sure?” Chris chimed in, brow heavy with worry. Her iciness surprised him. He had never heard someone react to a parent’s death quite so flippantly before.

“Yes. Jesus, Chris, keep up,” she replied, in a way which would have spurred a playful argument on a normal day. Again, her nonchalance unnerved all three of them.

Jess interlocked their fingers again instantly once he had his bag and his coat, almost heading out the door already. She was moving too fast for him to process much of anything, only reacting. He hadn’t seen her in such a frenzy in a very long time. “Eleanor, wait. Stop.”

“I can’t stop, Jess. I told you, we’ve gotta get there before my uncle has time to hit on Fiona and before Noah has time to piss off Adam. It’s fine. I promise. I’m fine.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but she pulled him out the front door instead. As they went, she shouted over her shoulder to Matthew and Chris: “Happy holidays! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

And then, she and Jess were gone. Chris and Matthew exchanged concerned, flabbergasted glances.

.   .   .

Flashback was the word that came to the forefront of her mind, as she stared up at the ceiling in the Gilmore living room. Luke and Lorelai were trying, and she appreciated it. They could both tell she didn’t want to talk about it, only wanted a bit of normalcy after the long day. And they’d obliged. After all, they’d had practice. Lorelai knew exactly what to do. She’d had Luke bring dinner home from the diner: turkey sandwiches and sodas. She’d suggested they watch a movie after dinner, something campy horror. Finally, they had settled on The Lost Boys. Ella knew how much Jess hated the movie, especially Kiefer Sutherland’s mullet, but he never complained once. A large part of her wished he would. She wanted it to be the way it was supposed to be. She wanted to have Christmas in Stars Hollow with the people who felt more like her family than her father did. Adam celebrating with one of his school friends in Boston, Fiona with her sister, Noah with his finacée in Oregon. But, of course, things never went as planned. Not in Ella’s experience at least.

At some point during the movie, she’d fallen asleep on the couch. No matter how much she wanted to stay awake until the end, she couldn’t keep her eyes open. Dealing with Fiona’s blubbering and Adam’s silence and Noah’s anger had pretty well exhausted her. Not to mention the business setting up the funeral at the church. She’d spent nearly two hours with the pastor, but the service was only halfway planned. She wished Aunt Julie could arrive sooner, but the girls were in school until Tuesday. Erin had some big recital she was pitching a fit about missing. Ella couldn’t blame her. She wouldn’t want to be there if she didn’t have to be. No, they would arrive on Wednesday morning. Two hours before the funeral, set for noon. At some point before then, Ella would have to sort out the flower arrangements and the music and the programs. At least Luke was providing the food. She assumed he would before he even offered. And she would have to write the eulogy. But she wasn’t even thinking about it yet. Every time the idea of writing it entered her mind, she would start humming a Stevie Nicks song and pointedly ignore it.

It was all too familiar. The planning, the writing, the consoling. Since they’d arrived in Stars Hollow that afternoon, it had been a non stop barrage of tasks and tears. None of it was surprising. And it almost made her want to laugh. The minute she heard that her mother was dead, she had burst out laughing, a nervous reaction she couldn’t control. Granted, the laughter came from deep inside her, and probably resembled a pained shriek more than an actual giggle. But it was laughter nonetheless, and her father had recognized it as such. He’d yelled at her until his voice became hoarse. She knew it wouldn’t happen again. He was the dead one now, after all. But still, she didn’t let the anxious laughter escape. She didn’t let anything escape. After the punishment she’d received for letting go last time, she knew not to do it again. No one was there to smack her, to scream, but she just couldn’t bring herself to forget how it had felt. Like she couldn’t even grieve right. And the best way to grieve became to not grieve at all.

She laid with one hand on her stomach and the other behind her head, analyzing the popcorn ceiling. She’d awoken with the room dim and the TV shut off. A quilt which she hadn’t fallen asleep under was draped over her, and there were hushed whispers in the direction of the kitchen. She hadn’t planned to wake up until morning, but she hadn’t planned to fall asleep there either. They were supposed to be sleeping in the apartment above the diner for the vacation, while Rory and April took the spare beds in the Gilmore house. But neither girl had yet to arrive, and Lorelai insisted Ella and Jess stay over after dinner. It was no use driving over in the snow, even if Luke’s was only about a minute away. Ella couldn’t believe how similar it all was to before. Sleeping alone on the Gilmore couch as others worried over her a few feet away.

She listened, in spite of herself. It was too tempting not to eavesdrop when she’d already heard her name so many times. Luke was concerned about her forgetting to eat. Lorelai was concerned about her shutting everyone out and being overwhelmed by the funeral preparations. And both of them were concerned about her coming to blows with Fiona at some point in the next few days.

Sighing, Ella ran her tongue over her teeth and remembered she hadn’t brushed them. She debated not doing so, but decided to just bite the bullet. With everything else on her mind, she thought it best to eliminate all the outward elements which might impede her from getting back to sleep. She rolled over on her side, preparing to sit up, when she saw Jess. She thought he’d be in the kitchen, talking with Luke and Lorelai. Instead, he sat on the floor with his back against the sofa. His head was near hers, leaned back. His eyes were closed, but he wasn’t snoring. She doubted he was fully asleep, but nonetheless attempted to get past him and rummage through the bag on the armchair to find her toothbrush. Her stealth proved lacking, however, when he began to stir as soon as she reached the bag.

“Hey,” he said quietly, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands and doing his best to seem lively. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she replied, fishing her toothbrush out from the sea of clothes she’d thrown into the duffel before they sped away from the apartment in Philadelphia. “I just forgot to brush my teeth.”

“Oh,” he said, nodding and hoisting himself up. His neck was already sore from the position he’d dozed off in, unwilling to follow Luke and Lorelai into the kitchen with Ella asleep on the couch. “Me too. I’ll come with.”

She nodded back, grabbing his toothbrush as well. The whispers didn’t cease until they made their way into the kitchen, Luke and Lorelai looking up at their entrance. Ella debated using the upstairs bathroom, not disturbing the two of them. But she didn’t have the energy to climb the stairs, and it would be the first time she could get a good look at the new half-bathroom they added next to Rory’s room. The smell of the diner food lingered, and it made Ella’s chest feel just a touch less tight. Lorelai broke out into a small smile at the sight of the two of them.

“You need anything, sweetie?” she asked, speaking only to Ella.

Though she felt a bit uncomfortable under everyone’s gaze, Ella smiled back. There was a warmth in her stomach at Lorelai’s voice. She focused on that feeling, and only that feeling. “No, we’re fine. Just brushing our teeth. The dentist would be pissed at me if I broke the pattern after over twenty years.”

“That’s true. Always best to avoid the Sweeney Todd dentistry possibility,” Lorelai agreed, nodding. Then, she yawned theatrically and looked at Luke, who only rolled his eyes at the dramatics. “I think we’re gonna head upstairs. It’s past our bedtime.”

“Still got those four o’clock deliveries, huh?” Jess asked sullenly, eyeing Luke. Many a morning when he was a teenager, he’d been awoken at half past three by the sound of Luke’s alarm.

Luke sighed. “For the business that housed and fed you for two years? Yeah, I do.”

Ella snorted a laugh, and nudged Jess playfully in the ribs. “Like you’re not always up before the sun, even on Saturday.”

“Where do you think that started?” Jess shot back, pointing an accusatory finger at Luke. “He screwed with my internal clock for life!”

“I think that’s enough fuel for future therapy sessions for tonight,” Lorelai announced, rising from the table, Luke following.

“Agreed,” Luke grumbled.

As they exchanged goodnights, Lorelai gave Ella a kiss on the cheek. Immediately after, she scrunched up her nose and smudged the lipstick from Ella’s freckled skin with her thumb. To Ella’s shock, Lorelai also gave Jess a short hug before making for the stairs. Luke hugged Jess,  too. The two of them still had trouble showing physical affection for each other, as they probably always would. Ella had to stifle a laugh at the awkwardness between them.

When Luke hugged Ella, though, she felt tears prick at her eyes for the first time all day. She recognized his familiar smell, the soft feeling of his flannel, his strong arms around her. Somewhere in her mind, it occurred to her that the way it felt for Luke to hug her was what she had always wanted it to feel like when her own father hugged her. And she knew for sure she would never get it from him. She could finally be certain there was nothing left to do to repair her relationship with him. There was no time left for Jake to make her feel as safe as Luke made her feel. As he never had, even in her childhood. But by the time she and Luke broke apart, she had gathered herself enough. She cleared her throat and blinked away the glassy sheen in her eyes.

Luke ruffled her hair as he stepped back from her. If he saw that she was upset, he didn’t acknowledge it. “Don’t worry, kid. We’ll get everything figured out tomorrow.”

“I know, boss,” she replied.

.   .   .

The cigarette smoke made her a bit nauseous, but it was also comforting in a way she was slightly ashamed of. The winter air was crisp and biting, and her cheeks were frosted roses. Embers glowed orange in the darkness as she took a long drag, burning her lungs. She was already regretting it, but she simply felt too tired to think out the actual consequences of what she was doing. She had tried. She really had. But falling asleep, with Jess snoring softly beneath her as they lay on the couch, was absolutely impossible. Fatigue was weighing down her bones, and there was a perpetual ache throbbing behind her eyes. But each time she got close to sleep, the thought of her father would flash across her mind, and she would be wide awake once more.

Once she gave up, she had managed to sneak outside unnoticed. The wind whispered past her, hollow and haunting. But maybe everything was feeling spookier because death was at the forefront of her mind. Then again, when wasn’t it? Though the shock had certainly hit her with full force when she heard the news, she couldn’t bring herself to be surprised. The other shoe had dropped. She knew it would, just when she let her guard down. The moment she forgot to worry, the universe had knocked her down again. She flicked her cigarette and watched the excess ash melt a small spot in the snow below the steps.

At the sound of the front door creaking open, she startled only a little. For a wild moment, she wanted to put her cigarette out and hide it behind her back, pretending to be innocent. Especially if it was Luke. But she had to remember she was a grown up. And the feeling disappeared entirely when she saw only a disheveled Jess wrapping himself up in his jacket as he came out onto the porch and sat down next to her.

“You’re gonna catch a cold out here,” he remarked, holding her peacoat out to her.

She took it with a trembling hand.

“Thank you,” she said solemnly, breathing out a long stream of smoke as she spoke. The coat was old and cheap, and did little to help a Connecticut winter, but she shrugged it on anyway.

He nodded, chewing on his bottom lip. “Don’t mention it.”

They sat in silence, an owl hooting somewhere in the trees beyond the house. Ella didn’t put the cigarette out until it got so small it began to burn her fingers. After she’d discarded it, her breath still puffed out, along with Jess’s, in frigid white clouds. Flurries of snow fell in scattered sprays, but the night was mostly quiet and overcast. Jess crossed his arms over his chest, waiting.

She spoke, as he knew she eventually would, after a few more minutes. Gesturing down to the crushed cigarette, her tired eyes met his. “Do you want one?”

“No, thanks,” he said, shaking his head. “Where’d you get those in the middle of the night in Stars Hollow, anyway?”

A thin smirk ghosted over her lips. “Snatched ‘em off Bootsy’s newsstand.”

“Really?” he asked, laughing slightly, with eyebrows raised.

She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Don’t act so surprised, Mariano. I was sneaking out of my bedroom window long before you got here.”

“Touché.” His eyes lingered on her, hair glistening golden in the soft light and eyes still far off somewhere miles away. He hesitated before he continued. “Did you walk all the way to Bootsy’s without a coat?”

She shrugged, glancing down at the Doc Martens on her feet. “I’m fine. I had my good shoes on. Besides, it’s only like a minute away.”

“Alright.”

“Seriously, Jess. I’m fine,” she snapped after a moment.

“Okay. I get it,” he said instantly. “You’re fine. You’re not cold.”

Ella ran her hands through her hair. Her body shook as she yawned.

“You wanna go back to bed?” he asked.

“No,” she said with a heavy sigh.

“Are you sure?”

“Jesus, Jess! Stop trying to take care of me! Stop asking me questions! Just let me fucking sit here!” Ella exclaimed, huffing in frustration.

Jess recoiled slightly, and he nodded at her again. He ran a hand over his mouth and swallowed down the million other questions which were rising in his throat. The ones she’d refused to ask on the drive up, and the ones she apparently still wanted to avoid. “Sorry.”

She rolled her eyes, mostly at herself. “No, I’m...I’m sorry. I’m just tired. I couldn’t fall asleep.”

“We don’t have to sleep if you don’t want to. We could watch one of Lorelai’s cassettes in there,” Jess suggested, fighting hard to keep his tone light, bracing for whatever reaction she was going to have.

“I love that she still has cassettes,” Ella said wistfully, though not smiling. Her voice was low and raspy as she stared out ahead of her into the darkness and the lightly falling snow.

He nodded a little. “I know you do.”

Ella’s hands were itching to hold another cigarette, but she fought the urge. The pack which sat on the porch steps next to her would almost certainly be crumpled up and thrown in the trash the moment she reentered the house. Along with the lighter. But it was nice to have them there. If she wanted. They sat wordlessly, listening to the rustle of the wind in the evergreen trees. Jess didn’t make a sound. He was just far away enough not to touch her, almost in silent askance of whether she wanted space. She did. And she didn’t want to talk. She didn’t want to talk almost as much as she didn’t want to write the eulogy. She wanted to be able to push down the sorrow and the rage until they just dissolved and she was as happy as she had been just a day earlier. Yesterday, she may have even been hopeful. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt hopeful about her family. But, now, she had to stop herself from reaching for a cigarette yet again. And she felt herself wanting a drink. A drink stronger than champagne at a book launch. And then the words started flowing before she could overthink them, before she could lock them away in her heart forever.

She swallowed thickly, looking down into her lap at her nail-bitten hands. “This is just like it was the last time.”

“Oh yeah?” he whispered, shifting a bit closer to her.

“Yeah,” she echoed, so quiet he almost couldn’t hear. She sniffed. “I mean, last time my dad was the devastated one instead of Fiona. But Adam still got pissed at Noah, and Noah only got more pissed because Adam was mad at him.”

Noah had only made it to town an hour before Ella left to go back to the Gilmore residence for the night, but he and Adam were at each other’s throats pretty much as soon as they saw each other. Upset that his Christmas vacation was being disrupted, Noah had insisted on staying at a motel instead of at the little blue house in which they had grown up. Adam wasn’t happy about it, accusing Noah of acting as though he was too good for them. In turn, Noah asked Adam why he wasn’t mad at Ella for staying with Lorelai. Adam had shot back immediately, saying Noah had abandoned the entire family the minute he could, while Ella stayed behind. At that point, Ella knew there was no way to diffuse the situation. She’d only offered to walk back with Noah to the motel, leaving Adam to sleep in his old room. Luckily, Fiona’s sister was already in town for the holiday. So, it didn’t wholly fall to any of the three of them to console her.

Jess and Luke had both offered to go over to the house with her after helping with the arrangements, but she’d insisted on meeting her brothers there alone. The surreality of the moment didn’t dawn on her until she saw Adam’s teary eyes and Noah’s flushed face. It was like she had stepped into the past. She’d come back to the Gilmore house to find Jess sitting in the living room, halfway through the Russian novel he’d brought with. In the face of his questions, she’d only given him the liner notes and then fallen mostly silent for the rest of the evening.

“And Lorelai and Luke won’t let me brush my teeth without asking me if I need anything,” Ella continued, with a scoff in her words. “And, I love them. I do. And I’m so fucking grateful that it hurts. But, I’m fine. I’m totally fucking fine.”

“So I’ve heard,” he quipped.

“You’re hilarious.”

“I’ve heard that, too,” he said.

She laughed breathily, lifting her head to look up at the sky. “Shut up.”

“Will do.”

Then, after a moment: “I just wish...I wish it wasn’t like this. I mean, he was a shitty dad. But he was still my dad.”

He watched as she chose her words, carefully. Her voice had more emotion than he’d heard all day. Bringing his arm around her shoulders, he hoped to lessen the trembling of her hands just a little. She leaned into him, letting herself feel his warmth but fighting the wateriness in her voice. Of all the things she didn’t want to do, crying was at the top of the list.

“And now...I don’t have parents. I don’t even have a dad who hates me and never calls,” she continued.

“He didn’t hate you,” Jess interjected.

She shook her head. “Yeah, he did, Jess. He fucking hated me. Because I looked like my mom and I didn’t like Fiona and I wouldn’t quit talking back at the dinner table. But it doesn’t bother me. I hated him most of the time, too.”

He hummed in response, listening.

Her face crumpled for only a moment. But, again, she regained her composure. A couple silent tears threatened to slip over. “But at least I had someone to hate, y’know? Now, it’s just...no one.”

She took in a shaky breath, and Jess began to rub circles over her back. He recognized that her shivering was no longer due to the cold but from the sobs she wouldn’t let loose. Ella’s stomach did a flip, as she clenched her hands into fists. But she just couldn’t hold it in any longer. She let a single wimper pass her lips. And then, the levee broke. She put her head in her hands and finally began to weep, cries from deep within her escaping at last.

“I just...I don’t have p-parents anymore,” she spoke through sobs, trying to get her voice under control but failing miserably. “I’m not anyone’s daughter anymore. I don’t belong to anyone anymore.”

Jess shut his eyes for a moment, feeling a crack in his heart as he heard her anguish. But a part of him was relieved she was finally letting it out. He knew not all of her tears were for her father, but for her mother as well. He’d never seen her cry so hard before, so hard she couldn’t catch her breath and she was beginning to feel sick to her stomach. She stopped being able to talk after a while, only crying, folding in on herself.

“I...I don’t...belong to anyone anymore,” she repeated.

Gnawing on his bottom lip again, Jess smoothed an affectionate hand over her hair. He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. Though he couldn’t see her face, Ella felt her cheeks heat up at his seeing her sob so openly. Jess spoke in a clear, strong tone.

“Listen, Eleanor, I know it feels like you’re alone without them, but that’s not true, okay?” he said.

She let out a tearful scoff.

“Hey, hey, hey, I’m serious,” Jess continued, placing a hand on her damp cheek and turning her face gently so she would look at him.

She wanted to avoid his eyes, embarrassed, but simply couldn’t bring herself to look anywhere else. The sight of him almost made her physically relax.

An earnest crease stood out between his eyebrows when he spoke again. “You belong to me, and I belong to you. That’s how it’s always been, hasn’t it?”

She stared at him for a moment, stunned at his words, as tears kept rolling steadily down her cheeks. But then, her lip began to quiver and she closed her eyes. Jess was worried she was about to get angry again. But instead, she slumped weakly against him. He could feel her tears begin to wet the neckline of his t-shirt as she rested her head on his chest. Breathing out long and slow, Jess wrapped his arms around her. He didn’t know whether his words had helped, but he was doubtful. No amount of talking was going to make her feel any better. He couldn’t crack a joke or start a playful argument or do a magic trick. He could only be there. He simply sat and held her against the wind.

[seagreen-meets-grey]

Cozy

Despite the frosty weather, Christmas time in Berk is all warm colors.

crossposted on ao3 and ff.net

_______________

With the beginning of December, winter made itself at home in Berk.

Cold winds, snow and ice rolled over the small town, holiday spirit in tow. Festive lights illuminated the streets and plazas, Christmas decorations were saved from their dusty existence and put in every window, garden, and on every house front. Large Christmas trees, adorned with stars and glitter and orbs and colors, marked every popular meeting spot.

One of those was the annual Berk Christmas Fair. It started near city hall, stretched all along the snowy streets of downtown Berk and ended on Hooligan Plaza at the outdoor ice rink. Various booths sold all kinds of decorations, crafted goods, sweets, cute little Christmas gifts, and of course mulled wine.

On Saturday night, the fair was especially crowded. Laughter and music filled the air and wafts of Christmas spices floated around.

A group of young women came strolling down a street, bundled up in warm coats, scarfs and gloves. Their ears and faces were red from the cold and the countermeasure of mulled wine alike. Three of them were walking arm in arm, staggering a little and accidentally bumping into the crowd, snickering when they caught each other again.

"D'you really think we should go to the ice rink?" the girl in the middle asked, voice a bit slurry. "We're not exactly good on our feet right now."

"Psh, we're good," one of her friends answered. "We're gonna nail it."

When they emerged from a knot of people gathered around a waffle stand, a third girl pointed somewhere before them with her finger. "Berk VIP alert!"

The second girl's face lit up upon the sight of her mayor and his family. They were standing in front of a small stand that offered spicy wines and Meade, the unmistakable fiery red beard of Mr. Haddock standing out from the crowd.

The girl unhooked her arm from her friend's and skipped toward them, almost slipping on slushy snow.

"Hey, Hiccup!" she called out and the mayor's son turned around.

"Astrid!" His face broke into a wide smile at the sight of his girlfriend. She threw her arms around him and staggered a little, almost taking him down with her. "You guys seem to be having fun," he remarked when she released him from her hug. Her hands still lingered around his neck and her blue eyes were sparkling.

"Told you we would," she said and took another step closer. "You're warm."

"And you're very tipsy."

"Generous assumption." She smirked.

"Hello Astrid," the booming voice of her boyfriend's father greeted her from the side. "Nice to see you."

Astrid returned his warm smile and waved to his wife. "Hi there."

Her friends reached them by the time she told Hiccup's parents she was here with her girls from work, and they engaged the pair in small talk.

Astrid didn’t listen. She was just now realizing exactly how warm it was in Hiccup's arms while snow was gently falling around her, a handful of flakes landing on her skin.

"What are you doing?" Hiccup asked, amusement coating his voice, when she zipped his jacket open. Instead of answering, she slid her hands into his open coat and around his back, hugging him and planting her face on his chest. Humming contentedly, she snuggled into him and closed her eyes. "You're warm," she repeated. She could feel the low vibrations of his chuckle.

He put his chin on her head and tightened his arms around her. He smelled of cinnamon, waffles and Hiccup. Astrid never wanted to leave his embrace.

For a while, they simply enjoyed their hug, only half paying attention to the conversation going on next to them. At some point, it became part of the white noise spectrum that was the Berk Christmas fair.

"Yo, Astrid," her friends pulled her back to reality and made her look up from her cozy place in Hiccup's jacket, "let's keep going."

"The ice rink awaits!"

Sighing, she slowly and a little reluctantly stepped out of the comfy hug and met her boyfriend's eyes, losing herself in them for a short moment. The eye contact and his hands that were still on her waist made her heart skip a beat and a tingling sensation pool in her stomach. She remembered their first kiss one year ago under a mistletoe not far from where they stood right now, and the tingling increased.

At the same moment, she and Hiccup leaned in, eyes closed, and let their lips touch softly. She felt the corners of his mouth go up and her hand moved all on its own to the spot where his heart sat.

"Earth to Astrid, quit being cheesy," a voice yelled in her ear, effectively making her break the kiss by startling her. She glared at her friend but then fully stepped away from Hiccup.

"See you." She waved at his parents and shot him a wide smile before her friends dragged her with them in the direction of the ice rink. She threw one last look back and caught the eyes of her boyfriend. He playfully stuck out his tongue at her and a wave of unrivaled affection spread in her heart.

_______________

It was late when Astrid reached the apartment complex.

Her friends had wanted to convince her to get a cab because it was past 2am and freezing, thick flakes coming down in a never-ending snowfall. But Astrid had simply pulled the hood of her coat up and waved them off. It wouldn't be the first time she’d walked home in the middle of the night.

She'd had to promise her friends to text them, though, as soon as she arrived home. So she took out her phone with freezing fingers and typed in a quick message before fumbling the key out of her pocket.

When she finally opened the door to the apartment, she was hit with warm air and the promise of a cozy bed. As quietly as possible, she took off her jacket and boots, almost falling over while trying to open the zipper of her right boot. Her coat fell from the rack and she flinched at the noise, freezing and listening for a second. When everything stayed quiet, she hung it back up and made her way through the dark apartment and tiptoed into the bedroom.

The only light in the room came from tiny cracks in the blinds and the glowing hands of the clock on the wall. In the dim light, she dressed down to her underwear and blindly reached into the drawer, grabbing the first shirt she found. Pulling it over her head, she tiptoed over to the bed, shivering in the cold and the anticipation of snuggling into the warm covers.

When she lifted the blanket and crawled underneath, the body already occupying the space stirred and the even breathing stopped for a second.

“What the– Astrid?” His voice was sleepy and confused. Astrid hummed and pulled the blanket up to her chin, settling her head on the pillow. “What are you doing here?”

She yawned and snuggled closer to him, taking in his body heat. “Sleeping.”

“Why didn’t you go home?”

“I did, that’s why I’m here.”

Hiccup was quiet for a minute and Astrid thought he’d fallen back asleep, slowly drifting off herself, before he suddenly spoke again.

“How drunk are you?”

“Medium.” She slung a leg over his hip and put her head on his shoulder. A moment later, she felt his arms reach around her, pulling her closer until she was snug against his chest. He still smelled of cinnamon and something akin to fir tree. Astrid breathed him in deeply.

It was quiet for a while. Her breathing slowed and her limbs were finally warmed up again. Almost off to slumber, she couldn’t tell where her body ended and his began. She felt peaceful, like she always did when she was close to him. She never wanted to leave this cloud.

“Hey,” she heard him whisper, his fingers lightly stroking her back.

“Hm?”

“Wanna move in?”

“Hmm.” A sleepy smile spread on her face.

“Yes?”

“Hmm.” She adjusted her head on his shoulder, burying her nose in his shirt. “Now, ssh. Me sleep. Talk later.”

“Okay. Love you.”

A consenting squeeze of his arm was the last she could do before she lost consciousness, disappearing into cozy dreamland.

[vanillaicing1313-blog]

Sleepy snowy Saturday #ollieanddante (at Lake Mohawk, New Jersey) https://www.instagram.com/p/CbAnv_xOWNDZpCvQn5oH4zzD8JZ-jxZYmVENN80/?utm_medium=tumblr

[oh-phineas]

A Wrimo To Wremember | A Hallmark/Christmas Movie AU featuring all of Emma’s characters!

Saturday, November 27 -- The Final Labor: Based on the final task for the labors, write an AU featuring all your characters in a role. Choose an AU, set out a list of goals for yourself based on tropes within that AU (ex. a red shirt has to die if you’re doing Star Trek or someone in the group gets bitten by a zombie and doesn’t tell the rest if you’re doing an apocalypse), then write to your heart’s content! To count, each character must have a role and your tropes must be laid out beforehand. 

Tropes:

Grinch who hates Christmas, trying to destroy the small business:  Aquata

Baker with a magical recipe: Tiana

Someone is royalty: Henry

Trying to save the family business in time for Christmas Eve: Anna

Related to Santa Claus: Tanya

Performs a Christmas song in a meaningful way: Bruce

Travel complications: Phineas

Single parent with a precocious kid: Annie

LET’S DO THIS!!!

Warnings for: tooth-rotting fluff, plot twists so contrived you better buckle your seatbelts, Christmas magic, and yeah, it’s a Hallmark movie, what do you expect?!

Chapter 1: Three Weeks To Christmas

As the helicopter touched down on the freshly-fallen snow just beyond the city limits of Moon Hollow, Aquata Triton sent one last text to her assistant at MetroCorp and groaned as she saw that it stalled. Of course this godforsaken town didn’t have service. 

Aquata had grown up in Moon Hollow, but she wasn’t exactly thrilled to be back. The sleepy little town seemed to have memories creeping out of every nook and cranny: there was the elementary school where Aquata had been pushed in a snowbank at the age of six. There was the movie theater where Aquata had been stood up on her first date one December, and she had watched Love Actually alone, crying into her popcorn. There was the community center where Aquata had fumbled her clarinet recital, turning Hark! The Herald Angels Sing! into a shrieky, squeaky mess. 

It seemed that something had gone wrong every Christmas in Moon Hollow for Aquata, right up to her mother’s death. After that, Aquata had swept out of town, gone to boarding school in New York City, and never looked back. Her Christmases were never magical, but they were never quite so unlucky anymore. And once Aquata sealed this deal and hiked the rent on the property that had been in her family for decades, she would finally be able to say that Moon Hollow had given her something good for Christmas. Wasn’t cold, hard, cash the best gift, after all?

With a click-click-clack, Aquata hurried down the snowy sidewalk, almost slipping on ice at one point. Dratted town. Soon enough, she approached the warm, glowing windows of Sweetbread Coffee House, the current tenant of Aquata’s main street property. 

“I’d like to speak to Anna Sommers!” Aquata announced. A skittish-looking boy behind the counter with a name tag reading “HENRY” looked up at her nervously.

“Erm, hello, what can I get started for you today?” Henry stammered in a refined British accent, looking a bit scared. Small-town people, Aquata thought disdainfully. They just thought everything could move at their slow, leisurely pace.

“Did you hear me? I need to speak to Anna Sommers.”

“Yes, right away.” The boy’s face went bright red and he scampered off to the back room.

Aquata crossed her arms and waited, tapping her heel impatiently. A young woman-- younger than Aquata was expecting-- soon appeared, looking polite but a little disappointed to see Aquata. She knew Aquata was coming, but they had only communicated over the phone and email, never in person. This was going to be quite easy, Aquata thought to herself smugly. It would be so easy to take this kid down.

“Well, it will be official by the 24th of December. If you don’t come up with the money, you’re going to be evicted,” Aquata said, her tone clipped and cold.

Anna’s face fell, her eyes going dull like a string of lights that had just burned out. “But that’s… Christmas Eve…”

“Oh, is it? I didn’t realize,” Aquata replied, dropping the notice she had brought for Anna on the table. “If you can come up with the money or convince me otherwise, be my guest. But by midnight on the 25th, this shop will be mine.” She smiled sinisterly. “Oh, and have that boy make me a triple-shot-espressoccino.”

“Oh, we don’t actually…” Anna blushed.

“Sure you do,” Aquata smirked, and went to go wait for her drink.

***

Anna ran to the back room, wiping away the tears that were quickly starting to fall, and Henry followed, worry etched deep into his features.

“Anna. What is the matter?” Henry asked, once Anna had slammed the door behind them. “I can make the coffee she wanted, it’s okay, I’ve--”

“It’s not about that!” Anna cried, hiccuping as she sobbed into the sleeve of her cardigan.

Henry put an arm around her, handing her a silk handkerchief from his pocket. Under different circumstances, Anna might have questioned why a man who seemed to have no money at all was carrying around a silk handkerchief and offering it so naturally, but in her hysteria, she barely paid it a second glance.

“I’m going to lose the shop. And then we’re all going to lose our jobs. And then… and then… yes, I don’t know how to make a freaking espressocino!”

“Anna,” Henry said again, and Anna looked up through her tears at his understanding eyes. There was something about him that was just so… No, that was cheesy, but… 

“What?”

“I know how to make an espressocino.”

“You do? But I thought you had never had a job before this?”

“I hadn’t, but… The espressocino is the national drink of Charmland. My homeland.”

Anna gasped. “But Charmland…”

“I know,” Henry sighed heavily. “Anna, there’s something you don’t know about me. I’m not just from Charmland. I’m the deposed crown prince of Charmland.”

***

As Tiana reached for her coffee, another hand reached for it, too. She did a double take. “Aquata Triton?” she said, jaw dropping in disbelief. Aquata Triton hadn’t been in town in seven years! And from what Tiana knew about her, she didn’t seem keen on returning to Moon Hollow ever again, now that she had her job in the big city. 

She seemed surprised to see Tiana, too, stumbling over her words. “I-- um-- yeah, that’s me-- that’s my espressocino,” she stammered, and just as quickly as it had dropped, Aquata’s cool, superior expression returned.

“Oh, my b,” Tiana said, noticing what was written on the side of the cup. “Wow, I didn’t think they made those here-- what are you doing back in town?”

“Just had some business to take care of,” Aquata said vaguely, avoiding eye contact. Tiana noticed just a hint of conflict behind her eyes, though. Something was off. Tiana would know, considering she had once spent hours and hours analyzing the many expressions of Aquata Triton… but of course, that was all in the past.

“What kinda business?” she pressed curiously, her expression amused. 

“Real estate. Dealing with some properties I inherited. There are going to be some changes around here.”

“You mean-- you’re not the one who owns this shop, right? Who’s shutting it down?”

Aquata shrugged, still avoiding eye contact. “It’s leaking money. It would be a lot more profitable as a vacation rental.”

“You-- Aquata, what happened to you?” Tiana stared at her in horror. So this was the girl she’d once pined over in AP Calculus? A cold-hearted businesswoman who had little care for the charm of a small-town coffee shop? “I can’t believe you.”

Aquata squirmed uncomfortably. “I’ve got to go.”

And with that, she swept out of Sweetbread Coffee House, her heels click-click-clacking away.

Tiana watched her leave, letting out a low, humorless laugh. “I can’t believe her…” she mused, just as Anna appeared with Tiana’s coffee. 

“I know, right?” Anna said miserably, handing Tiana the coffee. “You’re talking about Aquata?”

“It’s so unfair. Just because she has money now, and she seems hell-bent on getting revenge on this town, doesn’t mean she has to take it out on you.” Suddenly, Tiana was struck with an idea. “You just have to come up with some extra money, right?”

Anna looked at Tiana quizzically. “I mean, it’s easier said than done…”

“Right, but what if I had just the thing? It’s called North Pole Pie.” She dug through her tote bag and pulled out the recipe card that she carried with her everywhere. “It’s the strangest thing, I just found this recipe card wedged into a snowbank one year and I decided to make it, because, you know, I love food and I like messing around with it. And I swear it’s magic-- everyone just loves it. If this doesn’t work, I don’t know what will.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t…” Anna protested, dumbfounded. 

“Nonsense,” Tiana replied with a grin. “Toss me an apron and let’s get to work.

Chapter 2: One Week to Christmas

As Phineas rolled into the little town, just forty-five minutes away from his final destination of his hometown, his truck finally died on him. He had thought this might happen, as the past three hours the wheezy old pickup truck had rattled and complained the whole drive, but Phineas had tried to push her just a little further. The truck, it seemed, had other ideas. 

“You really did it this time,” Phineas sighed, getting out of the truck and slapping the hood. “What am I gonna do with you?”

Seemingly out of nowhere, a tall girl with a beanie pulled low over her ears appeared behind Phineas, snapping her gum. “That looks pretty bad,” she observed, not actually looking too bothered about the whole thing.

Phineas groaned. “Yeah, that’s ‘cause it is pretty bad.”

“Need some help pushing it?”

Phineas was skeptical of this offer. She seemed younger than him, and despite her stature, she didn’t seem particularly strong or athletic. 

“Are you sure…?”

She rolled her eyes and started pushing, and the car, surprisingly to Phineas, actually started rolling forward. “You’re lucky you’re cute. Are you gonna help me with this or what?”

And Phineas, seeing little choice, assented. 

On the walk to the mechanic’s shop, Phineas learned a few things. He learned that this girl’s name was Tanya, and that the town’s name was Moon Hollow. He learned that Moon Hollow was obsessed with Christmas, but Tanya was very not. 

“Wait, why? It’s the best time of year,” Phineas said, pausing.

Tanya kept pushing. “Keep up, Flynn. I mean, it’s fine, but when you grow up with it being your entire life, it gets kinda old.”

“What do you mean, do your parents run a Christmas shop or something?”

A strange look came over Tanya’s face, like she wasn’t sure if she should really say so or not. Which didn’t make sense to Phineas. It seemed like an innocent enough question.

She just smirked and said, “Something like that.”

***

Bruce didn’t exactly have a passion for working on cars, but it paid the bills while he waited for his band to get off the ground. And occasionally, you did meet interesting people doing it. Like this kid, who showed up pushing a clunky old truck and the strange girl who arrived with him and then seemed to vanish without a trace. 

“I think we should be able to get ‘er fixed in the next week,” Bruce assessed. 

“Week?” protested the kid. “But I’m trying to get home for Christmas!”

Bruce hesitated. He didn’t want to make any promises he couldn’t keep. “I think we can make that happen, if we work fast…”

He was just about to get back to work, this time faster than before, when a small child scampered in out of nowhere and grabbed a wrench right out of Bruce’s hand.

“JAXSON!” cried a voice from the street. Bruce whipped around, still not entirely sure what had just happened, when he locked eyes with the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life. He was momentarily frozen, not even realizing his wrench was missing until she stormed into the shop. “Oh, darn it, where did he go?! I’m so, so, so sorry...”

Bruce looked around, finally starting to get his bearings. Right. So a small child had burst into his shop, stolen his wrench, and now it seemed that his mother was looking for him?

He wiped his hands on a towel and got up from where he was kneeling, trying to fix something underneath the car’s engine. “Oh, that’s alright,” he said, chuckling. “S’long as he doesn’t hurt himself, he’s welcome to it. Bruce White. Certified mechanic. What can I do for you?”

Now this woman seemed to be the speechless one. “I-- um-- hi. Annie Tremaine,” she said, making a small gesture like she was about to offer her hand to shake but then thought better of it. “I’m sorry about Jaxson, he’s-- we were just passing by and I guess he wanted to explore. He hasn’t been the same ever since his father…” 

Just then, the small boy returned, brandishing the wrench. “I’m a wizard!” he cried. Annie gave a small, self-conscious smile, but Bruce laughed. “Really, you don’t have to apologize. He’s welcome here any time.”

There was a momentary pause that seemed full of possibility as they stood there, eyes locked, and then Annie finally shook her head and said, “Right, right. Well, we’ll stop bothering you…”

Bruce nodded, wondering if he’d maybe got it wrong. But there was only one way to know for sure. “Listen,” he said, a bit nervously. “My band will be playing at Sweetbread Coffee on Christmas Eve. Maybe you already have plans, but…”

“We, uh, actually don’t,” Annie replied, lighting up. Bruce felt his cheeks go hot. “We’ll see you there.”

Bruce didn’t even notice that Jaxson walked off with the wrench until later.

***

The most magical thing of all about North Pole Pie was that it was so easy to make. Anna had fumbled over pastry in the past, but the dough seemed to roll out, smooth and even, and the filling (a mix of nuts, berries, pumpkin, and chocolate) was all items that Anna already had around the shop. Even Henry, who confessed that he had never baked before in his life because he had servants for that, was only struggling a little bit. 

Still, he was a stubborn man, and when he didn’t master it right away, Anna could see him getting frustrated.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Anna said, putting down the bowl of ingredients she was mixing for the filling and moving to guide his hands over the rolling pin. “Loosen your grip. And relax your shoulders. You’re too tense.”

As her hands moved over his, Anna couldn’t deny there was a sort of electricity to the touch she didn’t expect. Their eyes met, sharing a surprised look as though they had both maybe accidentally done something they shouldn’t. Anna quickly wiped her hands on her apron, turning red.

Henry seemed to pause for a moment, thinking, and then said, “Sorry, I’m not sure I got that. Would you show me again?” There was a sort of mischief to his smile, like this was a joke Anna was a part of too.

Slowly, a smile crept over Anna’s face. “I’d be happy to.”

***

Tanya would know that smell anywhere. Walking by Sweetbread Coffee, her heart clenched. Had they really found her here? All the way in this dinky little town where Tanya was certain nothing ever happened? Unless…

She reached into her pockets and felt around. Peppermints, Tanya swore silently. Had she dropped it? After that whole grand plan to spoil Christmas by stealing the North Pole Pie recipe, someone else had gotten their hands on it?

Fuming, Tanya stormed into Sweetbread Coffee. And she was just about to let the anxious-looking boy behind the counter have it when she saw, grinning right at her, that smug redheaded boy, eating a large slice of North Pole Pie. Because of course he was. 

“Stop eating that!” Tanya demanded, crossing her arms. Why did this boy seem to pop up everywhere?

“Well, seeing as I’m stuck in this town for the next week, I figured I might as well. What do you care?”

“It’s my stupid family’s recipe!” she blurted out, and then realized what she had just said. Oh no. What if Phineas put it all together? The truth about her? The truth about everything?”

Phineas stared at her quizzically. “It’s North Pole Pie, according to the recipe board,” he said, bemused. “What, are you from the North Pole or something?”

Tanya turned bright red, sinking into the chair across from Phineas and rubbing her eyes slowly.

“No… you’re not serious… are you?”

Tanya had assumed nobody would believe her. And yet, somehow, this absolute doofus had figured it out. Slowly, she nodded, mortified. She could have laughed. She could have made fun of him for even believing it. But now Tanya was overwhelmed. What if she was found out for trying to sabotage Christmas by stealing the North Pole Pie recipe?

“But if North Pole Pie is a family recipe, then that must mean…”

“Yup,” Tanya said, her voice dripping with embarrassment. “Santa Claus is my dad. And he’s been a real egotistical jerk, lately, so… I’m sabotaging Christmas.”

Phineas’s jaw dropped, and then suddenly Tanya was explaining everything. How she was next in line for the title (yeah, girls could be Santa Claus too, don’t be sexist, she had told him) and she wasn’t sure she wanted it and she just thought if she ruined Christmas one year, he would see that she wasn’t cut out for the role and find someone else. And she didn’t know why she was explaining all of this, except that she really needed to tell someone, apparently, and as the story came spilling out like a glass of milk for Santa Claus tipped over by an unsuspecting foot, Tanya found herself feeling worlds better.

And she found herself getting just a little lost in this cute redheaded boy’s freckles.

And when she realized that, she dropped her fork abruptly and disappeared, leaving behind a confused Phineas Flynn. Nope, that could not happen. She was here for one reason and one reason only.

But she couldn’t help glancing over her shoulder as she left.

***

Chapter 3: One Day to Christmas

As time went on, it was getting harder and harder for Aquata to do this. She had come to Sweetbread Coffee nearly every day these past three weeks, with the intention of intimidating Anna into giving up the shop once and for all, but the more time she spent here, the more she understood the point of having a little coffee shop in a dead-end town. 

There was something kind of sweet about the way that wimpy little barista looked at Anna, and her tenderness in return. She had found herself chuckling at the antics of that annoying redheaded boy, despite herself, and more than once, Aquata had caught herself watching Tiana come and go from the shop, and then turning bright red when she realized.

But Tiana hated her. And she was always going to hate her. Because Tiana loved Sweetbread Coffee, and she was never going to forgive Aquata for what she was about to do. And Aquata knew she shouldn’t care about that, but there was a small part of her that did. 

Whatever. It was fine. 

A band was starting to set up, and Aquata decided to stay. Might as well. She was just settling in when she felt a presence next to her. 

“Planning the hostile takeover?” Tiana quipped, halfway between amused and deeply disdainful. 

Aquata ignored her. 

***

“Hey, y’all…” Bruce said into the microphone, adjusting the strap on his acoustic guitar and looking around. It didn’t take long for him to find her. Sitting there in the audience, like she had promised. Annie. Smiling back at him with those beautiful eyes. 

Bruce cleared his throat, feeling newly encouraged. “I don’t want a lot for Christmas…” he began, strumming his guitar slowly. It was a soft, acoustic version of the Mariah Carey classic, a departure from the original plan, but as he locked eyes with Annie, the song seemed to take on a new meaning. 

Behind the counter, Anna reached for Henry’s hand. In a far corner, Tanya sank into a seat next to the boy who seemed to pop up everywhere this whole week. And in a table near the front, something in Aquata’s heart started to ache. 

“Thank you,” Bruce said as the song ended, and while it was directed to the whole room, he really meant it for one person in particular. 

There was a heavy silence, and suddenly, Anna appeared on the stage. “Thank you, Bruce,” she said, and looked out onto the crowd with a pained expression on her face. “And thank you all for coming. I… hate to be the bearer of bad news, and especially on Christmas, but I’m afraid that this is the last concert Sweetbread Coffee will hear. Because I’m afraid this is the end of Sweetbread Coffee.”

The crowd erupted into gasps and protests, and Henry’s face fell. Anna bit back tears as she saw his expression. “We couldn’t come up with the money, and this property is under new management. So… thank you all for your support over the years.” 

Aquata shot out of her seat. “Wait!” she said, and the crowd froze, focusing their attention on her. She could feel the intensity of Tiana’s gaze in particular. “I’m… I’m the new management. And I’ve changed my mind. I can’t— I can’t do it. Sweetbread Coffee has built something really special, clearly, and… I think it deserves to stay. We can, um, discuss the details, but… Sweetbread Coffee is here to stay.” 

The room erupted again, this time with cheers, and Aquata sat back down, unsure if she had made the right choice but feeling strangely light since the first time she had arrived in Moon Hollow. 

“Oh my goodness, I could just kiss you right now!” Tiana giggled. 

“Then do it,” Aquata challenged.

And as Tiana leaned across the table to do just that, Bruce took the mic again. 

“This song’s a celebration!” he announced. “Candles burning low, lots of mistletoe…”

A small boy raced across the shop and onto the stage. “Oh no, I’m so sorry!” Annie apologized, following him. But when she saw him dancing to the song and Bruce dancing along with him, she decided to join in. 

And soon the whole room was dancing— Bruce, Annie, and Jaxson in a circle on the stage as Bruce strummed and sang, Tiana twirling Aquata in the audience, Henry teaching Anna a traditional Charmland waltz, and even Tanya, tapping her toes in the back. 

“You wanna dance?” Phineas offered.

Tanya smiled in spite of herself, but she was panicking on the inside as she caught sight of a familiar face in the window. “Wait. I just have to take care of one thing,” she said. 

***

“Dad, how’d you find me?” Tanya complained, leaning against the window that was glowing with life and cheer and music.

He chuckled, a low Ho ho ho. “Did you forget about the Claus sense for Christmas Cheer?” 

Tanya’s eyes widened as she glanced over her shoulder at the scene in Sweetbread Coffee. “But that’s— it’s not—“

“It was very clever of you, Tanya. You’ve discovered the secret.”

“And what’s that?” She looked at him skeptically.

“Christmas cheer isn’t about delivering presents. It’s about bringing people together. And by sharing the North Pole Pie recipe, you’ve done exactly that.” 

“But I didn’t—“ 

“Oh, but you did.” He winked. “I’ll see you later tonight. I think it’s time you came on a sleigh ride with me, started your apprenticeship.”

A week ago, that had sounded horribly intimidating, but seeing all the cheer and good spirits in the shop, Tanya was filled with the sudden desire to keep making memories for these people, maybe even with these people. She thought of that curly-haired boy and his invitation. 

“Mind if I go dance for a little?” she asked, her apprehension melting away. 

“I think we can make that happen.” 

And with the smell of North Pole Pie as heavy in the air as the good cheer that came with friendship, music, delicious pie, and maybe a little bit of love, the clock struck midnight at Sweetbread Coffee. Tanya, out of breath from dancing, took over the microphone. “Merry Christmas to all!” she announced, invoking the magic words that had never felt quite right to her until now. “And to all a good night!”

[benchslappedsports-blog]

If you’re not First you’re Last!

Earlier today I tweeted my picks for each Power Five conference. If you don’t like it, I don’t care, but feel free to tell me about it in the comments.

ACC:Clemson Tigers

Initial thoughts:This should kind of be a no brainer for anyone who follows the sport. What Dabo Swinney has cooking in Clemson, SC is something special, consistency. Few things are more challenging in College Football than to build and maintain a program in a Power Five league, and Dabo has done just that.

Where could they stumble?:Don’t expect Syracuse to get the Tigers this year, that game is in Death Valley and the fans haven’t forgotten what happened last year, they will turn the place into Deaf Valley.

The game in College Station for the ACC vs SEC regular season matchup should be entertaining, but don’t expect the Tigers to go easy on the Aggies.  Dabo and his team play better when the lights are brighter.

Now that those two popular picks for a trip-up-game are out of the way, go ahead and circle November 10th, that is when the Tigers could hurt. They will be playing an afternoon game in Boston, Mass against the Boston College Eagles.  That game has TRAP written all over it.  Clemson is used to playing in warmer weather and average high in Boston in November is 33.  Buckle-up Clemson fans, that game is gunna be rough.

Final Record: 11-1 heading into ACC Championship vs Miami Hurricanes

Big12: TCU Horned Frogs

Initial thoughts: This is a risky pick. Most people are picking Oklahoma because they have owned the conference the last few years, but the Mayfield era is over.  Baker Mayfield was a generational player and there are far too many questions about the Quarterback spot he left behind for me to feel confident picking them in Lincoln Riley’s “pass first, run never” offense. I expect 3 losses for OU.

Gary Patterson had too much of a pep in his step at Big12 media days for him to be worried about his team.  That man is a legend in the making.  He tends to coach the more balanced teams in a conference of one-sided talent. I trust him and his silent confidence. TCU to shock the conference.

Where could they stumble?:The Ohio State game suddenly could be a toss-up when I would have previously handed the win to Urban Meyer and his Buckeyes, but too much is unknown now, maybe this loss is less legitimate.  No matter the outcome, this is an out of conference game, but depending on how high or low the outcome is could impact how they play the following week.  College Football is all about emotions.

November 10th is a big day for TCU to lose too, I have them losing in Morgantown in front of a sellout crowd of toothless hillbillies, I mean, the University of West Virginia faithful. First one to 50 points wins.

Final Record: 10-2 heading into the Big12 Championship vs Texas Longhorns

Big10: Penn State Nittany Lions

Initial thoughts:Penn State sits in probably the strongest division in College Football this season, the Big10 East. So why am I so confident about these guys making it to the top of the mountain? James “motherf*ckin’” Franklin. The guy is an elite coach and will be adding a National Championship to his record books within the next 3 seasons.  Even with the loss of their generation player, this team reloads. With Ohio State turmoil, this could blow the race wide open and I think Penn State is poised to seize the moment, in a white out.

Where could they stumble?:November 10th is the preseason biggest weekend of the year.  Wisconsin rolls into State College, PA and shoves their ground'n'pound game down the high flying Lions’ throats. These two will be two Titans meeting under a snowy night in November and a cold loss for Penn State. No worries though, I have them rematching for the Big10 Championship and Penn State taking revenge.

Michigan State could be a tricky game for the Lions’ as well. I expect them to hold off Sparty, but this rivalry game on October 13th will be fun to watch, but I predict to be the nail in Michigan State’s playoff coffin.

Final Record: 11-1 heading into Big10 Championship vs Wisconsin

Pac12: Washington Huskies

Initial thoughts:By far the most boring conference heading into the season. After the worst bowl season performance of all time, Washington is the only team who carries hope into their season.  Chris Peterson doesn’t have bad teams, I don’t expect the Huskies to make it to the playoffs though.

Where could they stumble?: Where do I begin?

Auburn in primetime week one

Utah September 15th

Oregon on October 13th

Stanford on November 3rd

I see all of those games just as likely a win as they could be a loss for the Huskies.  The team is not bad, but they are not built to run the table.  They are bound to slip up one or three times.

Final Record:10-2 heading into Pac12 Championship vs USC

SEC: Georgia Bulldogs

Initial thoughts: The hottest team last year has been awfully quiet this off-season. People made noise picking them to win the east and face Alabama or Auburn for a rematch but beyond that not much is being made of the Bulldogs. This team has a lot of new names and faces which adds to the skepticism, however, Kirby Smart begins year 3with the best recruits the school has ever had, Jake Fromm takes another step towards greatness, and the fan base ignites a fire under the players to propel them to a title.

Where could they stumble?: A lot of people are warning of an upset in Columbia against the Gamecocks in week two but I think the Bulldogs start looking scary instead. I think the first possible stumble comes September 22nd when Mizzou rolls into town. Since Missouri joined the SEC, UGA and UM have had a heated back and forth. I know the 3rd Tigers have been down the last two years, but don’t expect them to stay down. Drew Locke has the potential to give the Bulldog’s secondary fits.  Pair that with a potential sleepy noon kickoff in Athens? Kirby and the boys might get left stunned.

Georgia should handle Florida at “The World’s Largest Cocktail Party"just fine, but you never know in a rivalry game, especially with a new head coach at the helm in Gainesville. I think Georgia will control the game but don’t be shocked if the ole’ "Quarterback Whisperer” pulls his season one signature win in Jacksonville against the Dawgs.

Auburn vs Georgia is probably the most underrated rivalry in the SEC and top five in the sport. These two have played more years than most programs have even existed. They are the south’s two original football teams and their clash has rocked the deep south for two centuries now.  Auburn got embarrassed on the biggest stage in the conference end of last year in Atlanta and I expect them to march into Athens on (yes, another one) November 10th and give Georgia their best shot.  Expect the Tigers to be undefeated on that Saturday and the Bulldogs to look nervous.

Final Record:12-0 heading into the SEC Championship vs Alabama

Let me know what you guys think of my picks! Think I’m wrong? tell me!  Think I’m the smartest guy in the world? Tell me!

[aethelredism]

snowflakes

Tessa wakes them up at six in the morning, her arrival preceded by the unsteady thump of her little feet on the carpeted floor. Her parents are still sleeping, or trying to, so she wriggles in between them while El pulls the comforter up around her shoulders and Mike drapes an arm over both his girls.

“It’s Saturday,” Tessa reminds them in a loud whisper.

“We know,” El says gently.

“Daddy said he’d play with me on Saturday.”

Mike lets out a small groan. “Let Daddy sleep a little longer.”

But even though Tessa tries, she’s three and squirmy, and it isn’t long before Mike and El give up and get up. They have a sleepy, unhurried breakfast, one where Tessa gets syrup all over herself, and after they’ve wiped her clean and bundled her up, Mike takes her hand and leads her out into the snowy backyard. El watches from the window, still in her pajamas, a warm mug of tea in her hands. She’s taken Tessa out into the snow before, but there’s something special about Daddy doing it. He talks so much more than El, who grew up learning to speak in silence, who only used words as necessities. Mike is the middle child, was always fighting to be heard over his sisters, for his eternally dozing father to wake up and notice him. Talking comes naturally to him. El can’t understand anything he’s saying, but she can see him talking, can see him pointing and explaining while Tessa listens, her eyes wide beneath her hood and scarf.

It’s silly, but even though she can see them and they’re only a few yards away and she sees them every day, El begins to miss her husband and daughter. She knows it’s clingy, but she misses them so much that she puts down her mug and throws on a scarf and coat and boots before wading out to them.

“Mama!” Tessa shouts, waddling towards her mother. El catches her just before she tips over, settles her against her hip and carries her to where Mike is still kneeling in the snow.

“You’ll get cold,” he chastises, but he’s smiling at her and looking at her in that way he always does. Like she’s the most perfect thing he’s ever seen.

“I was lonely.” She sets down Tessa, who waddles off to explore the backyard, and kneels beside Mike, grateful she wore flannel pajamas.

Mike takes her bare hands between his gloved ones, kneads them tenderly. “You’re gonna get sick.”

“You won’t let me get sick.” And it’s true--he won’t. He raises his eyes to hers and El can see snowflakes in his long, perfect lashes. He really is the most beautiful person she’s ever seen. She learned a long time ago that boys--men--don’t like to be called beautiful, that they’re not supposed to be beautiful, but she really does think that he’s beautiful. She thinks that she’s so lucky, to look at this face every day, that it’s the first thing she sees when she wakes up and the last thing she sees before she falls asleep. “You’re perfect,” she says out loud, pure and unabashed.

A long time ago, he would have blushed, but they’ve been together too long and through too much for something so simple and sweet to faze him. He just smiles, says, “So are you,” and then he kisses her like it’s been ages, like it wasn’t less than twenty minutes ago when she wrapped a scarf around his neck. “You should put on warmer clothes,” he says when they pull apart, foreheads and cold noses touching.

“You can warm me up when we get inside.” She gets up, crouches beside Tessa as the little girl pokes at the icicles hanging from the birdbath. El looks over her shoulder and sees Mike, still looking at her like she’s perfect with snowflakes in his lashes.

[ddlc-imagines]

Heyo can I get another set of really gay HCs for a fem-reader (maybe trans girl if you can) and Yuri spending a snowy day inside? Having a pretty shit day today, though honestly these'll make my day better no matter when you're actually able to get them done

Sure thing!!

You were planning on going over to Yuri’s house for brunch one Saturday morning

It was calling for snow, but you figured that it would be okay

After you eat, you start discussing the heavy-handedness of the political metaphors in the book you’ve both just finished, and you get really into the conversation. Before you know it, there’s about five inches of snow piled on the ground with no signs of stopping

You check your phone, and apparently the snow is so bad that the trains have been closed temporarily, so you can’t go back home

Yuri worries, but maintains her composure, saying that it would be irresponsible of her to make you walk home in such conditions, and asks if you want to just stay the rest of the day, and if conditions are still bad you can spend the night if you want to

She makes some more tea, and tells you to go sit in the living room where you two can talk more comfortably

As you’re waiting for her, you notice all the atmospheric touches that make her house so pleasant: the coherent, neutral color scheme, the soft yet bright light coming in from the snowy scene outside, tempered by velvet curtains lining the windows, the permeating scent of chamomile essential oil from her candle diffuser

It’s all so soft, so elegant, so Yuri

When she comes back with two steaming teacups, she gives you one and carefully sits down with the other, and the two of you settle into each other, you leaning down and laying your head in her lap

You enjoy the silence, mostly, feeling your stress melt away as Yuri strokes your hair, feeling and listening to her breathing

She occasionally makes quiet comments about winter, how the snow gives everything a muted, soft feeling, making people feel more introspective and think deeply

“I’ve been thinking about what my parents might say about us, if I still talked to them...” she says, getting a faraway look in her eyes before looking down at you and smiling

“It doesn’t matter what they think, though. I love you, I only care about what you think, what you want...”

She blinks, and asks what you’ve been thinking about, and you tell her. Whatever it is, if you’re happy, she smiles, if you’re stressed or upset, she sighs with you and offers her thoughts

She asks if you want to read, or watch a movie, or something, your pick

You pull out your phone and connect it to the tv, scrolling through netflix to see what looked good, when all of a sudden the power goes out

You’re surprised to realize that it’s already dark outside, a fact apparent because now the only light in the room was coming from the few candles around

Yuri apologizes, but you quiet her, saying that it’s not her fault

You two take some time to light a few more candles, silently agreeing not to use your phones for light, since that would ruin the atmosphere

You admit that you don’t particularly feel like reading, so Yuri suggests that you play a game of chess

You carefully move the candles to the little breakfast nook table you had been eating at earlier, and set up the board

She’s not very good, but you guess that it’s probably because she hardly ever gets to practice playing against someone, since not many of her friends are chess people

After you play for awhile, you dig around the kitchen for something to eat, feeling kind of like an explorer holding your candle for light

After you eat, Yuri lets you take a shower first, saying she would find something for you to wear for pajamas. You can only laugh when she hands you a pastel pink shirt with a rainbow decal on it that had to be at least size XXL

She blushes when you ask where she got it, saying that it was a gift from Sayori when she had came out to her, but Sayori didn’t know what size she was and assumed she would want one in the biggest size they had. Nevertheless, she was glad she had something that would fit you comfortably

You aww at her and she blushes again, but you thank her

She takes a shower, and the two of you go to her room, you sit on the bed as she straightens up a little bit (even though it’s already perfectly clean)

You go ahead and lay down, feeling sleepy after eating, crawling under the blankets to fight how cold it was outside

Yuri selects a book from her shelf and sits next to you, saying that it’s okay if you fall asleep, she’s just going to read a bit then go to bed

You fall asleep to the rhythm of Yuri softly tapping on the cover as she reads